Jo Malone "Pomegranate Noir"

(In a shifty nod to the economic disaster, note I'm now displaying a 30ml bottle. Ahem.)

I had no expectations for this scent. I don't really go shopping for pomegranates at the market, and though I do spend a good 30% of every earth day in total darkness, who knows what "noir" means? Will a gruff man in a fedora appear on my doorstep, call me sweetie, and then spend the next 2 hours struggling with a drink problem and a crime syndicate? (And is it worrying that I find that strangely tempting?)

So all I had to go on was the fact that I know Jo Malone's citrus stuff really doesn't work on me, but her rich florals and fruits do. To the scent lab!

[later, in living room]

Well, gosh, this somehow isn't what I expected. When I first put it on, there was a sort of "oh, holy god" reaction, the feeling that that small spritz certainly packed a punch. It takes a few minutes to untangle what's going on here, and even then I can't really isolate the notes, I can just get a feeling. This is pine forests and lichen and candied plums, velvet and fragrant woods. The pomegranate's in here too, freshly split in half and lovely, and I think that might be what saves the scent from being too strange and heady and incense-thick.

I know I'm going to have to put this scent back into my cabinet and wear it this autumn, probably in October. Initially I thought I'd just say this is a Christmas scent, but the longer I wear it, the less I want to pigeonhole it. There's a gentle time in New England, when the leaves have all fallen but are still fresh on the ground, and the night begins to fall very quickly, seemingly 10 minutes earlier by the day. And I remember walking home from friends' houses in that unexpected dark, with a chill in the air that heightened the pine and dampened sound so that I was just this warm live young note, walking through a stillness that seemed almost mystical.

That quiet satisfaction somehow carries through to this scent. The difference is that it feels more knowing: the same quiet night, but an adult woman with dark flowing hair and a long burgundy coat in the distance, walking into mist. (Test before you buy, though -- this doesn't stay long on me unless I'm wearing enough layers for it to really simmer against my skin.)

EDIT: Well, that's unexpected. I thought the perfume was gone, and then boom -- pomegranate juice. Like it's been boiled down to a syrup, then drizzled on my wrist. Longevity? This doesn't fade, at ALL. But it really is a much different scent two hours in, and to be honest, I'm not sure I could sleep with it on. Pomegranate juice is very, very very sweet, and there's not much else happening at the last stage. Yikes.

Verdict: Wonderful for the start of cool weather -- when everyone else is wilting from the lack of sun and sullenly wrapping up, this lush scent wards off any chill from within. But when the scent turns syrupy... Well, I'm not sure I can take it.

Public Service Announcement

Attention Jo Malone shoppers:

I just got an email notifying me that you can get 25% Jo Malone products. It only lasts until the 11th because it's a Valentine's promotion (accursed holiday!), but try this link and see if it's still in action.

Quoth the rules:

OFFER VALID ONLY AT JOMALONE.COM (NOT VALID AT JO MALONE SHOPS OR DEPARTMENT STORE LOCATIONS). VALID FROM 2/10/2009 - 2/11/2009 ONLY ON JOMALONE.COM. VALID ON IN-STOCK MERCHANDISE ONLY. NOT VALID ON PURCHASE OF GIFT CARDS, EGIFT CARDS OR CUSTOM GIFT SETS. NOT VALID ON PENDING PURCHASES OR PURCHASES MADE BEFORE OR AFTER 2/11/2009. ALL PURCHASES ARE SUBJECT TO BANK AUTHORIZATION PRIOR TO PROCESSING. ONLY AUTHORIZED PURCHASES WILL BE PROCESSED AND SHIPPED. WE RESERVE THE RIGHT TO CANCEL ANY ORDER DUE TO UNAUTHORIZED, ALTERED, OR INELIGIBLE USE OF OFFER AND TO MODIFY OR CANCEL THIS PROMOTION DUE TO SYSTEM ERRORS OR UNFORESEEN PROBLEMS.

Obviously, I've got a bit of a soft spot for this particular retailer, so that's making this temptation particularly acute.... Mmmm, Jo Malone. Here's a roll call of the Scents & Sensibility reviews of Jo Malone products:

Red Roses

Nectarine Blossom & Honey

Lime Blossom

Amber & Lavender

Orange Blossom

Vintage Gardenia

DKNY "Be Delicious"

It took me a while, but I finally got my hands on a tester of DKNY's "Be Delicious" (no the real one, not the impostor).

Right off, this smells like a long, twirling peel of granny smith apple. When my dad made cobbler in the summer, he'd put all the apple peelings in a dish and we'd snack on them like they were potato chips. They were chewy and waxy and made the inside of your mouth feel a little prickly if you had too many, but they were also the only thing to tide you over until the cobbler got out of the oven. It's a good smell for me, and the first spray was clean and bright and fresh.

So maybe my expectations are memory-based, and when I don't get a follow-on of baked apple or sugar or cinnamon, I'm confused. Instead, the drydown on me is... salty. A heavy, steamy saltiness that's hard to describe. Like peeling an apple in a saltwater sauna. And then trying to eat slices of the apple, now coated in this hot-rock salt mist. Am I making this sound gross? Because on me, this smells gross.

I'm going to give this another shot in summer, I think, just in case this is getting smothered under winter clothes and a heating system. Because I just can't take the idea that my skin curdles citrus AND salts fresh fruit!

Verdict: Regrettably, for me this is a bad apple.

State of Play

Dear reader,

Well. Things have not precisely gone as expected.

For one, I started working at a corporation where perfume in the office was not exactly banned, but certainly not encouraged. The mix of coworkers at the office changed too -- I was used to like-minded people around my age, and suddenly found myself the youngest member of a team full of married workaholics. It was also a corporation where I sat 9 hours a day at a desk, staring at a screen, and feeling as though my soul was steadily being drained dry. And did I mention that it qualified as a "finanical", aka the corporations that were particularly damaged in the economic collapse? Going to work got to the point where it was like reporting for detention... or an execution. When you're at a job like that, it has the effect of bleeding everything else in your life dry too; you come home and have no energy to write or cook or think or do anything more than slump in a chair and watch cable news or crime procedurals. You lose all sense of perspective, and it all gets rather unhealthy.

And so it went, for 10 long months. And then? Then my company downsized, and I was unemployed. Strange, isn't it, that it took losing my job to wake up?

So now I'm back. Luckily, I wasn't in a total coma over the past year; I managed to amass quite a range of samples, as well as a few local perfumes that are truly a breed apart (not always a good thing, though always interesting). So I'll be able to start posting sample reviews pretty swiftly. Now that I have time to kill and need to save money, I'm also posting on a slightly more off-topic blog, Hobo Kitchen, which is about budget cooking. Make of it what you will.

Check in when you can, and I know it's a tough job market out there and people have all sorts of responsibilities to keep in mind, but -- man. I can't tell you how much better my mental state is now that I'm not at that job anymore. It wasn't my choice to leave, and I miss the income, but it might have saved my mind.

Eliza

Jo Malone "Red Roses"

Every time I saw this scent described, people referred to it as a "young rose". I did not know what that meant. It made me think of the waxy roses your boyfriend gave you on Valentine's Day when you were fifteen, the ones that smelled both watery and sharply sweet (mostly likely due to the plant feed dumped into the buckets of bouquets at the local supermarket). And if that was what a "young rose" is all about, no thank you. I'll stick with other memories.

But in December, as I was returning from a fabulous trip to the UK, I found myself wandering past the Heathrow Jo Malone store. I was a bit high off the absurdly advantageous exchange rate, and so splurged on an entire bottle of "Red Roses" without even taking a spritz (never a good idea to apply an unknown perfume before a transatlantic flight -- might have an "Angel"ic experience). As soon as I landed I broke out the bottle, and I've been wearing it frequently ever since.

I get what they mean by "young rose". This is like waking up early, putting on the teakettle and wandering outside while there's still dew on everything. It's still cold out and everything's slightly chill to the touch, but you bring out your tea and a book and settle at a table on the patio right by a rosebush. And as the sun rises and everything warms, a gentle, soft warmth of rose builds in the air mixed with dew drying on greenery and that very clear smell of early morning.

This isn't a big bloomy scent that brings to mind velvet and dusk and the Phantom of the Opera, and that's why it's something I can wear frequently. Not to get graphic, but some rose scents can be a little porny on a 20 year old woman, but might be perfectly appropriate on a 50 year old -- it's a sensuality and depth I think older women have earned and can balance, while on a younger woman it tips over into neon sign territory. There are occasions to wear a scent that shouts "lush" and "ripe", but... I prefer to choose those moments carefully.

"Red Roses" doesn't cause that sort of confusion. It's no simple bud rose in a vase, or even a gorgeous storebought bouquet. It's living, breathing roses all around you, distilled into liquid form -- full of potential, and one of my favourites.

Verdict: If you're the type who loves spending time in hedge mazes and gardens, this one's for you. Lovely and classy, possibly a rose scent for people who can't find the right rose.