Monday, April 13, 2009

Chanel No. 22

I have some new samples. And one of them is a mililiter of Chanel No. 22.

But first, an interlude.

Some years ago, I was living in London, attending rabbinic school for a year (long story), and I made friends with a woman who'd made a lot of money as an antiques dealer and was living now in a beautiful apartment in Mayfair--very chichi.

She invited me over to her 'flat' for a New Year's Eve get together. Beautiful place, occupied by two happy cats who were collaborating to destroy a bazillion-dollar couch together, nice food. At some point in the evening I went to the bathroom.

Her whole countertop was taken up by GIANT bottles of Chanel perfumes. The big, big classic splash bottles. And they all had numbers.

I was fascinated. I knew about Chanel No. 5, because it's incredibly famous. I hadn't realized that there were other numbers. I also hadn't realized that you could get perfume in bottles that big. I examined them (without touching), for several minutes, and then forgot all about them.

Twelve years later...

I dab the left wrist with Chanel No. 22, and go sort of swoony. It starts off somewhat powdery, and a little floral--I can smell the lilac in the first moments--and is full of incense--and is awfully familiar from somewhere. I've been sniffing and sniffing, and cannot track the smell-memory down. I suspect it dates back to childhood, and I sniffed this, or something similar, somewhere, probably on an older female relative.

The powderiness subsides as the drydown proceeds, and the incensiness progresses. About five hours into the process, I now have a smooth, lovely, white incense with just a touch of powder and a touch of floral.

This is really really good smelling, one of those things where you dab and then you keep smelling and smelling and smelling. I think I want a bottleful.

Tuesday, April 7, 2009

Zeste de Rose

It's spring now--alternately warm and rainy--so I stepped out in Rosine's Zeste de Rose yesterday. It's perfect for a cool and sunny spring day. There's something old-fashioned about it, and yet not at all cloying. Cool. Sweet. Rosy.