Showing posts with label coconut. Show all posts
Showing posts with label coconut. Show all posts

Thursday, 6 September 2007

Virgin Island Water (Creed, 2006, Olivier & Erwin Creed)


Coconut, lime, musk, bergamot, mandarin, ylang ylang, jasmine.

I loved the initial citric zing that came out of the bottle. I loved the distinctly Caribbean pina colada smell when it was on my skin. I was delighted half an hour later when I felt surrounded by coconut, tropical woods and man-sweat. "This is amazing!" I thought. "I really do smell like the Virgin Islands!"

And yet, two hours later and I smell... not really so good. There's still pina colada, but it smells plasticky and cheap, like Superdrug hair gel. It isn't unpleasant, but somehow, it just doesn't smell real. In fact, it smells an awful lot like the coconut fragrance that they pipe into The Mirage casino in Las Vegas, except less sweet, more bitter. I don't hate it... but I don't like it much, either.

I won't be buying a bottle of this any time soon.

Sunday, 2 September 2007

Carnal Flower (Frédéric Malle Editions de Parfums, 2005, Dominique Ropion)


Tuberose, coconut, bergamot, jasmine, orange blossom, musk. Inspired by actor Candice Bergen. Contains the largest amount of tuberose absolute in any fragrance.

I've always had a love/hate relationship with tuberose. When I was a teenager I absolutely loved it and couldn't get enough of tuberose scented candles; a few years later I suddenly found it disgustingly sweet and couldn't go near the stuff. It's odd, then, that after a long fascination with the scent, yesterday I finally caved and bought a bottle of Carnal Flower.

Why would I buy a bottle of a smell I don't really like? I'm not sure. It's definitely sweet and heavily floral: two things that instantly put me off a perfume. And yet I like it, and I'm not sure why. Maybe it's because it's a bit dirty and musky; maybe it's because the coconut and jasmine make me think of long, relaxed evenings in warm climates. I don't know, but tonight, after a day walking around in the heat, I smell quite extraordinary: like you'd imagine tuberose-scattered bedsheets to smell after a night of sin, when all the flowers are starting to rot.

Right now, I really, really love this fragrance. But I wouldn't be surprised if, a few months down the road, I'll sniff myself and suddenly feel a bit sick. And then I'll have to give the bottle to somebody who likes florals.