Liquid Night

I love it when a fragrance house offers the choice of small bottles. My last purchase was a 10 ml travel spray of Musc Ravageur, bought on the spot after wearing it for only a few minutes. I dismiss the pea counters (German for nit pickers)  who keep on telling me that the price per ml is such a bad bargain. I'm not buying a sack of potatoes to feed an army here, I just want to own a piece of something beautiful, and if it's a small piece, so be it. If I love it enough to empty the travel sized one I'm very probably going to buy a bigger amount as a result, and I wish more companies would see the benefit of  'small is beautiful'. Another one that does, albeit  with a very limited distribution, is US based A Lab on Fire, which also adopted a similar editorial style concept to FM. (But who doesn't, these days?)

Liquid Night wasn't an instant love; I had come to the achingly hip Paris department store 

Colette to try A Lab on Fire's "What we do in Paris is secret", but that was sadly out of stock. I liked LN though, and 20 something Euros for a 15 ml bottle was a good enough offer to buy it. I thought. And then it sat on the shelf for months, unloved and collecting dust. I still liked it, in theory, but never got round to wear it. And then suddenly a few weeks ago, I just didn't know what to try...and gave it a go.

Liquid Night, my visualisation

Surprise, surprise: this time I love it. It immediately grabs me with an effortlessly chic aesthetic that is totally wearable but unique enough not to be boring. A creamy saffron note binds dry hinoki woods to aromatics and abstract floral accords and everything dries down to a subtle vanilla. Despite the name, it's actually a rather clear cut fragrance, not sharp, but not floating either. When I created its image I started with very fluid and organic shapes, but after hours working on it and not getting it right I realised what it needed was a very simple geometric structure to emphasise on the contemporary elegance. I took inspiration from neon lights glistening and sparkling on wet asphalt. My colours are very muted, but in principal it's a cold green/warm pink perfume. I find it incredibly suited for this in-between-two-seasons-weather we're having, where spring is on the cards and a few daffs are out, but the wind is still icy and biting enough to wear a big comfy scarf. 

Some reviews complain about the synthetic nature of Liquid Night. I personally couldn't care less. As long as they don't charge me Roja Dove prices for a bottle of ISOE super, I can live with a bit of chemical wizardry in my fragrances. 

How and where to wear:

Not so much a how or where, but with what this time.... my newest fashion find and love is German brand Oska and Liquid Night is a perfect match. A bit of a Japanese influence, urban and edgy, but incredibly comfortable.

Felanilla, languid and luxurious

Adding a new perfume bottle to your collection is always exciting, but sometimes there is a level of anxiety involved. Will I still like it? What if it smells suddenly different from the sample (has happended!) Was it really worth the money? 

My Full Bottle wish list is usually quite short and also short lived; scents appear on it for a few weeks or months and then get chucked out and replaced by something else. Apart from the odd "bargain" buy, I can wait pretty long before I make a commitment. Last week, the list had Hasu no Hana (longest ever contender, on there for a year, which is no surprise, given the price tag), Atkinson's Odd Fellow and/or Fashion Decree and Parfumerie Generale's Felanilla on it. Thanks to London's Bloom perfumery and their lovely little Halloween game, Felanilla is off the list and on my shelf now. A 28% discount is not to be sniffed at. But as I said at the beginning, receiving a new bottle can be a bit stressful. It has been a few months since I last smelled it. Will I still love it?

My visual interpretation of Felanilla

Thankfully, I do, although it does smell ever so slightly different from how I remembered it. The animalic aspect is not as pronounced as I had previously thought. Not that it ever was a civet feast, but it had an element of strokeable furryness that I can't find for now. It's still there, I'm sure, I just have to wait. What is unmissable in this creation is a wonderfully softened wood base over which a purple iris and a powdery vanilla hover in a gentle embrace. All the warmth comes from the spicy saffron and the wood (banana, according to the note list). Both the iris and the vanilla feel cool and, at least for the first few hours, "refreshing" on top of it. The iris is the first to exit the party, leaving all the fun to a gloriously dry vanilla that makes me want to bite, not lick my wrists. Because despite me not really spotting the animal, it is most definitely hiding there somewhere. Felanilla is a proper grown up vanilla, not one for the kids. Its uncomplicated and simple structure gives it a natural, barefoot luxury feel that I often associate with easy going tropical holidays. Languid, subtle but deeply erotic.

How and where to wear:

A  daybed on a veranda overlooking the jungle. A knackered old fan is doing its best to cool down the hot and humid air.