Beware the ill-fitting top

Day 29 of the Heapnose Perfume Diary. Today I’m wearing Saks 5th Avenue by Bond No. 9.

I’m not cool. And I generally disapprove of people who are cool. Years of labouring under the weight of a mono-brow, followed by years of labouring under the weight of excess weight, followed by such socially alienating stints as “Debate Team Captain”  and “German Song Contributor” did not really lend themselves to being part of the in-crowd. As my mother often observes.

“…it was the dressing up like a camel part that was the real clincher”

Heapnose Age 17 (Centre)

So i’m surprised, and not a little disappointed to find myself embracing a perfume brand which epitomizes New York cool. From their uber-trendy headquarters in “NoHo” Bond No.9 have launched a collection of fragrances with the dual purpose of “restoring artistry to New York” and to “mark every New York neighbourhood with a scent of its own.”

Now how exactly Saks 5th Avenue could qualify as a “New York” neighbourhood worthy of its own scent, is a bit of a head scratcher. More vexing still, is how this might serve to “[restore] artistry to New York”

Happily Deborah Walters, Senior Vice President and General Merchandise Manager Cosmetics and Fragrances clears things up with her statement that “Saks Fifth Avenue is excited to be collaborating with Bond No.9 on Saks Fifth Avenue for Her…Everyone here is thrilled to be part of such a unique fragrance collection of New York neighbourhoods and feel it is such an honor to have two fragrances dedicated to our New York flagship”

To be honest with prices starting at $125 plus an additional $150 to ship overseas (TO CANADA!!!) I’d be pretty bloody excited and honoured too. Thank goodness that Beardy has a mother who not only spends considerable time in the US but also thinks transporting over-priced perfumes across the US / Canadian border is a valuable use of both time and luggage allowance.

And so do I. If I were to pick a dessert island scent, this would undoubtedly be the front runner. Its longevity is astonishing, its versatility (both seasonal and occasional) is incomparable , and the scent itself is absolutely divine. A true white scent, this is the best use of Gardenia since Carolina Hererra’s 212 – notes of jasmine, tuberose and vanilla are offset by a smoky vetiver which keeps it from being too sickly. It is by far the most commented-on perfume of my (significant) collection, and the ONLY fragrance in my possession which I would replace without a moment’s hesitation. Preferably on Feb 14th, Beardy, if you’re reading.

Happily, although I firmly hold that fragrance maketh the woman,  wearing such a self-conciously trendy brand has not turned me into a fedora wearing twat. Yet. I think there’s still a couple more German songs in me still.

Heapnose age 27

Love

Heapnose x

Created in 2005 by Olivier Creed, this was the first fragrance to be released by the House of Creed in five years. Apparently they’re still riding the “we made perfumes for Queen Victoria” wave. Sad, really.

Anyway, Olivier boasts that he travelled all seven seas (and indeed all five continents) to handpick each and every one of the ingredients: A journey which took him five years. On his yacht.

Frankly, I’d have preferred it if Olivier had seen fit to do a bit of hostel hopping, and knocked 50 odd quid off the price tag. Starting at about £85 for 30ml, this fragrance is bone chillingly expensive. Much like spending 5 years on a yacht I should imagine.

Still, Olivier’s search of the seven seas yielded the following ingredients

“Orange zest from Southern Spain, white jasmine from the Italian Coast, daffodil from the French Riviera, sandalwood from Mysore India, young rice husk from Tonkin, iris from Egypt, magnolia from the Guatemalan Mountains and vanilla from the Island of Java.”

Call me sceptical, but somehow I can’t imagine Olivier Creed, the yacht owning, seven-sea sailing heir to the substantial Creed fortune, scrambling up the side of a Guatemalan mountain, in search of the perfect Magnolia… It’s a bit like when I tell Beardy that our fabric softener came from the eco-tent at the farmers’ market. He knows it came from Wallmart. I know it came from Wallmart – but as long as his smalls stay soft and there’s a picture of a happy tree on the bottle, he’s not going to kick up a stink.

But Creed do have one of the most credible reputations in the industry. A father / son business since 1760, they have fragranced some of the classiest wrists in the business. Laura Bush, Michelle Obama and Angelina Jolie (post-sex dungeon, brother-snogging era),  are all said to be huge fans of this particular fragrance and it’s not hard to see why. It’s the sensory equivalent of dunking your head in fresh spring water and finding lilies and cream beneath the surface. I’m completely smitten.

Unusually for such a complex fragrance, there’s no journey to be made. It starts exactly as it ends – but its impressive longevity (at least 5 hours with a fair wind) more than compensate for its static nature. I do maintain, however that no fragrance is worth close to a £100 for a 30ml. And frankly if you’re still boasting that the Empress Sissi of Austro-Hungary is one of your best-known clients boys, then I’d say it’s time to update your website.

There’s a fantastically romantic story behind my acquisition of this scent, the ingredients of which are a long distance relationship, a lovesick boyfriend and a Transatlantic treasure hunt involving fragrant clues which were mailed to me in lengthy love-notes. But why bore you with all of that when I could instead tell you about the most World’s Most Homosexual Party which I attended a few weeks ago, Sisley in tow.

My friend Sisley is the fragrance that I bust out when I know I don’t look that good, or, as in the case of the World’s Most Homosexual Party, when nobody is going to notice what I look like anyway. It’s the sensory equivalent of control underwear – a reassuring confidence booster in a cold, hostile world. For one simple reason. Men Love It.

Green scents are not traditionally regarded as knock outs. Released in the early 90s, and forced to jostle for position amongst throat ticklers such as Samsara, Poison and the dreaded Chanel No.5, Eau Du Soir, unlike its contemporaries was not regarded as a mainstay on the nineties power-suit / big eyebrows scene. But, this Chypre-based fragrance out-classes all of them. Turning the traditionally weak concept of a green fragrance upside down and quite literally entering the room before its wearer, this is THE head turner of the nineties. Thankfully, its somewhat overpowering introductory notes mean that 20 years on it’s failed to capture the public imagination. It didn’t belong to the nineties, and it certainly isn’t fashionable now, but it’s the fragrance that I get asked about over and over again. And it is the only fragrance that needs no topping up. 8am to 6pm – it just keeps getting better.

Which is how I knew that this was quite simply the only perfume which could possibly be worn to the World’s Most Homosexual Party.

As expected, I was the fattest person there. Or, as my (homosexual) companion generously observed “…there was like totally one guy there that weighed more than you.” I was also the most clothed. Though, it being a male underwear launch, one can hardly gripe. But my goodness did I smell good. Even as I plowed through my eighth  barbecued chicken leg (well, nobody else was going to eat them) Sisley remained, defiant in a sea of oiled torsos and over-worked facial topiary.

Three compliments. From three nearly-naked homosexuals. A good day’s work.

Apologies for the recent Heapnose hiatus readers…It’s been a busy few months, and, well, Canadians are less generous with their  perfume samples than the Brits, despite their claims of a higher standard of living.

Christmas recommendations coming soon…If you’d pass them on to my boyfriend, I’d be much obliged.

Love Heapnose x

Not a euphemism. Actually happened.

Day 26 of the Heapnose perfume diary. Today I am wearing Tom Ford’s Black Orchid.

There are some perfumes I wear because they make me feel pretty. Others I wear because they make me feel sexy. There are a few (a very select few), mostly reserved for job interviews and airplane travel that make me feel powerful. There is only one perfume that I wear, simply because I fancy the arse off the designer.

God Bless Tom Ford.

Is it the well groomed brows, or the expensive manicure? Perhaps it’s the uncompromising approach to tailoring in a world where flip flops at the office have become de rigeur. Or maybe it’s just the infinite and unparalleled success. Everything he touches turns to gold.

Tom Ford has his own Black Orchid, He’s (imaginatively) named it “Tom Ford’s Black Orchid.” Given that there exist only four in the world, that’s pretty impressive. Given that Tom Ford owns one quarter of the world’s total supply of Black Orchids, one would have hoped he could have come up with a better name for it. Like Stuart. Or Gomez.

So where are we so far? Someone crapped in my back garden last night. Tom Ford owns a Black Orchid. I fancy Tom Ford. The, perfume, of course, the perfume.

Suffice to say it’s exquisite. Absolutely exquisite. It oozes expense, sophistication and strength. It is unlike anything else currently available, effortlessly fusing the vintage credibility of the ancient French parfumeurie, with the glamour and sophistication of present day New York. The sensory equivalent of a really first rate dining experience: Dripping with guilt and wildly overpriced.

Somebody crapped in my back garden last night. Here is another picture of Tom Ford.

Love

Heapnose x

But before I begin this review, let’s all take a moment to reflect upon the exquisitely understated ad campaign

Blimey.

I’ve long been a fan of Marc Jacobs’s fragrances…both female and male. Yes, there were a few dodgy ones in the early 2000s that smelled a bit like grass and rain (in fact I think they may have been called “grass” and “rain” respectively) but when MJ wants to bring out a big hitter, frankly he is in a league of his own.

This fragrance is smoking hot. Described by Marc Jacobs as “An explosion of pepper wrapped in warm, sensual woods” this, my friends, is how I imagine Indiana Jones might smell. Pink and black peppercorns sparkle against a backdrop of woody notes: It’s strong, fresh, and  unashamedly masculine.

The discreet young man in the ad campaign is, actually Mr Jacobs himself. In fact, our friend Marc has been hitting the campaign trail hard with this compelling tale of how he came to be the spokesmodel for his own fragrance

” [My business partner Robert said ] ‘Marc, you look so great now – you should be the model for men’s fragrance.’ My immediate reaction was, I don’t know. But then I came to see that it made sense.”

I have generously spared you the remainder of this pithy narrative. Suffice to say there was much oscillating between posing and not posing, culminating in the eventual decision to pose, take all his clothes off, and position a “flacon” between his legs.

More sensitive readers in our midst will be relieved to known that the Middle Eastern version of the ad features the flacon positioned on delicately on Mr Jacobs’s ear, while in the American Mid-Western Campaign, the flacon is perched on the designer’s shoulder. The fifteenth most powerful homosexual man in the world (official) seemingly does know his market territories.

Fortunately, Mr Jacobs’s skills as a parfumeur vastly outweigh his knack for storytelling and he has produced an absolute winner. A warning however  - this is not one for the poets in our midst. If you’re faint of heart, light of touch, or you know, French or something – stay away. This is a scent for the Heathcliff not the Edgar, for the McSteamy not the McDreamy, for the Hilary Swank not the Justin Bieber.

Currently enjoying a limited release in the UK, Marc Jacobs Bang will be available Worldwide from September. Beardy, expect a bottle imminently.

Much Love

Heapnose x

15 years ago Pat Heap and I visited a boutique  parfumerie in Grasse, France. There we witnessed the miracle of perfume production. There too, my hapless father witnesses the miracle of perfume consumption. This was our first encounter with Miranda. 3 months and many happy outings later, she was all but gone.

15 long years passed before our unexpected reconciliation last week, at the foot of Montmartre in Paris. I suppose it should have occurred to us, at least once during those 15 long years to visit the website, google the parfumerie, or to make enquiries during one of our bi-annual visits to France. Alas no. Somehow 3 years of a law degree and 5 years of working as a researcher for a television company failed to equip me with the initiative necessary for such an arduous task.

So imagine my joy when I stepped through the doors of the (not that newly opened) Fragonard parfumerie in Paris. Imagine my surprise when my (male) companions stepped through the doors of the pub next door with instructions to “find my own way home”. Imagine my delight when I, silver tongued linguist of the city of lights, recounted, in word perfect French, the fascinating tale of my 15 year search, to the fascinated parfumeur. Imagine my disappointment when the fascinated parfumeur  happily informed me that they’d been retailing online for nigh on ten years – and that there was free delivery on all overseas purchases. Imagine his disappointment, when, confidence buoyed by lunchtime’s bottle of wine, and by my resulting grasp of the French language I happily reeled off  the details of my school timetable, replete with pertinent asides about my favourite subjects (I was careful to give reasons for my answers). What an exchange indeed.

Nonetheless, I emerged 50 Euro down, clutching two bottles of the splendid Miranda and Fragonard’s web address written carefully on the back of my hand.

I spent the remainder of my trip to Paris glued to the Fragonard website which, incidentally, reliably informs me that Miranda

“…has the gentle warmth of the trade winds, wafting sweet-smelling vanilla and smooth coconut from distant isles mixed with amber and an echo of brilliant flowers. A harmony with an exotic resonance, like the wide blue yonder beckoning.”

- I know, it’s not the best description, but, well, they are French, and not naturally pre-disposed to whimsy. Plus, they’ve only had ten years or so to work on their website.

I can happily concede that this perfume is not for everyone. Beardy will hate it. Beardy already hates it after receiving three emails, and two long distance phone calls recounting my 15 year search. In French. My office companions are  beginning to complain of “allergies” and despite my accusations of middle class affectations, I will own that this perfume is far too sweet for most people. If you love vanilla, have a sweet tooth, and like to knock out the opposition from ten paces, this is the one for you. Apparently you can buy it online now too…Who knew?

http://www.fragonard.com/parfums_grasse/perfumes/miranda-c-119.htm

Love x Heapnose x

THE HEAPNOSE QUESTIONNAIRE OF GREATNESS AND ALSO DESPAIR

1. What is your name?

A: John

2. What do you do for a living?

A: Civil Servant

3. How are you?

A: Shipshape and Shiny

4. Which fragrance have you elected to test on behalf of www.heapnose.com?

A: Polo  (Black) by Ralph Lauren

5. Why did you elect to review this fragrance on behalf of www.heapnose.com?

A: Because you told me you would give me the fragrance for nothing if I elected to review it on behalf of www.heapnose.com

6. Have you ever worn a male fragrance before?

A: Yes, regularly from circa 1993 when i began wearing Lynx and Physio Sport

[Them were dark times my friend...Heapnose]

7. If Mathew Fox is a fox, and Michael J Fox is a silver fox, and Richard Armitage is an honorary fox by virtue of being quite the fox, which animal are you and why? [NB you may not choose fox]

A: Honey Badger

8. How did you hear about www.heapnose.com?

A: Your incessant badgering, which whilst entirely charmless was nothing if not persistent

9. “Heapnose is to perfume what Ian Hislop is to satire” Discuss

A: No

10. Do you feel more attractive when you smell nice?

A: Yes

11. Have you been solicited by anyone except that dancer you were “seeing” since you started wearing Ralph Lauren Polo (Black) for Men

A: Yes

12. If [yes] above, who?

A: By  you, mostly. And by a rogue heroin addict at work

13. Shall I send the boys round?

A: Please do

14. If you hadn’t received this fragrance for nothing from a nice PR lady named Raj, would you buy it?

A: Possibly

15. Why / Why Not?

A: Because I’m hoping you will provide me with free fragrances for the rest of my living days

16. Do you think the guy in the Ralph Lauren Polo (Black) ad campaign looks a bit like Beardy if you squint and imagine him with a beard, and glasses, and earrings, and a more cheerful demeanour, and humming a tune by the Grateful Dead and eating a vegetarian Burrito?

A: It’s almost uncanny. Isn’t your boyfriend white though?

17. Do you like Beardy?

A: I love him but not the same way you do

18. Why / Why Not?

A: I’ve always liked your dad and he is very very very similar

19. What should a man smell of?

A: I dunno Heap, you’re the expert.

20. What does happiness smell like?

A: To you, it smells like a quarter pounder with cheese

21.  Do you think that Ralph Lauren Polo (Black) is  fragrance for all seasons?

A: Not for all seasons no, the bottle isn’t big enough. Unless you have more samples

22. I find you very attractive right now.

A: You have bad hair.

23. Would you feel comfortable wearing this fragrance to a wedding or other formal occassion?

A: Yes I would. Although I wore Jo Malone’s  Blue Agava and Cacao [A Heapnose recommendation...Heapnose] to my brother’s wedding and it was very well received. I was propositioned by two members of staff [via his mother...Heapnose]

24. Would you recommend this perfume to other men, say in the pub or playing golf?

A: Yes

25. Isn’t that a bit gay?

A: I am a bit gay

26. Are you a homosexual?

A: See 25 above. You outed me to a church congregation [accidentally...Heapnose] and you outed me in the pub [again, accidentally..Heapnose] so, in the name of forging new frontiers and all that, why not out me on the internet?

27. Will you continue to wear this fragrance after finishing this questionnaire?

A: If we ever do finish this questionnaire…

28. Please rate Ralph Lauren Polo (Black) in terms of faces (Happy Face / Sad Face / Indifferent Face)

A: Happy Face. I really like it.

29. Am I prettier than Cheryl Cole?

A: In some respects. Despite your bad hair, you’re reasonably good company

30. What about if I had her hairdresser?

A: What do you mean by “had?”

31. Did you enjoy the Heapnose Questionnaire of Greatness and Also Despair.

A: I’m staggered. Are you honestly putting this tosh on Heapnose?

Bad Perfumes fall into two categories. The superficial, tacky confections of the high street and b-list celebrity “designers”;  and the insipid, listless, watery spritzes of the “recessionista” parfumeur –  which, once sprayed, vanish like a fart on the breeze. Rarely (if ever) does a fragrance manage to fall into both categories. Until there was Remix.

In what can only be described as an acrobatic display of awfulness, Emporio Armani She Remix successfully straddles both camps – managing to be at the one time, both utterly offensive and entirely devoid of any discernible scent in one graceless swoop. The talent, one can presume, must be in the timing. A quick hit of cheap, fruity, sweets and then…gone.

On balance, I think the longevity issue pisses me off more than the sub-standard scent. Emporio Armani was conceived as the affordable alternative to Giorgio…you don’t go to McDonald’s expecting Cordon Bleu (unless you happen to be my ex-history teacher Miss P, who was actually overheard ordering “a scone and a nice cup of tea” at the drive thru. But that’s an aside.) But you do expect something; Some degree of satisfaction, some semblance of a fair exchange for the old dollar.  Very few things hack me off more than a perfume which won’t stay put. It’s like buying a DVD boxset and only being allowed to watch the first disk. And Emporio Armani does it time and time again. I’ve worn Emporio Armani She. I’ve worn Emporio Armani She Night. I’ve worn Emporio Armani She White. And now I’m wearing Emporio Armani She Remix. That’s a a hundred odd quid I’ve spent on air and water. I could have bought a bottle of Tom Ford Tobacco Vanille with that money and still had a tenner left over to see StreetDance the movie. In 3-D. With the proper glasses. I could have even had a bag of Haribo. Or maybe a McDonald’s scone and a nice cup of tea at the drive-thru. What a colossal waste of a life.

It must be that Megan Fox. And the nice tin bottles. Bewitching bastards, both.

Until next time noses

xxxx

Today, as well you know, is Day 21 of the Heapnose perfume diary, penned by Heapnose, for the exclusive use of the popular website www.heapnose.com, devised, written and edited by Heapnose. Day 21 finds your humble blogger in the throes of the summer fragrance season, suitably beguiled by popular spring/summer releases, from, amongst others Balenciaga, Giorgio Armani, and…Jennifer Aniston, and finding herself as ever, swayed by a more classic pallet, a reputable parfumeur, and an impressive track record of not being shit . Swayed too, by the fact that I received your Cinema (Eau D’Ete) for nothing, from an employee of the sister of an online fragrance distributor. (Yes, Yves, they’re giving away your scents. Never fear, it’s probably just a blip. We’re all feeling the effects of the recession.)

Might I be so bold as to presume therefore, that in light of the inclement economic climate, some cutting of the proverbial corners has occured chez vous? How else to explain the advent of Cinema (Eau D’Ete) by Yves Saint Laurent a scent which is, to all intents and purposes an exact replica of Cinema by Yves Saint Laurent, but is one part fragrance to three parts water?

I have traditionally enjoyed Cinema by Yves Saint Laurent – a scent which, i am reliably informed has since been discontinued . Tom Ford’s fusion of floral and oriental offset by a powdery base is a commendable melange, and one which a trail of disciples have failed to emulate with any degree of success (Klein – you dick). Although, in truth, Tom Ford could happily fuse axel grease with sheep shit and I would gladly snap up his fragrant offering. That guy is smoking hot.

I digress.

Yves, I get it, I really do. It’s been a tough year for all of us. But when a High Street store can cobble together a longer lasting summer replica of your own fragrance (“Theatre!”) and (“Summer Theatre”) than you yourself can muster, I fear you’re in trouble my friend. Which is why I’ve banished you to the bedroom. I’ll stick with you Yves, we’ll ride out the storm together, but only between the sheets. You’re a great combatant to the dreaded “fake tan on pyjamas” problem, and a nifty little distraction from my partner’s “summer feet” but we will never go on a date, I’m not going to introduce you to my girlfriends, and you will never meet my mother.

Come on Yves, I mean, you must have seen this coming. I dragged you along to church last week, but let’s face it, you weren’t really “there”. And I think we both knew that I was taking someone else to the Baftas…someone who could stick with me all night, fill a gap in conversation, and stay for breakfast the morning after.

Sorry Yves, that’s what you get for being cheap. It’s a valuable lesson.

Luv and Hugs

Heapnose x

Day 20 of the Heapnose Perfume Diary. Today I’m wearing Acqua di Gioia by Armani.

In 1996 Giorgio Armani released what would arguably become his most famous fragrances – Acqua Di Gio for him and Acqua Di Gio for her. The former fast became, and remains still the world’s top selling men’s fragrance, adorning the artfully whiskered jaw lines of unimaginative plebs the world over. The latter, facing stiff competition from the nineties trinity of Klein, Hilfiger and Lauren, failed to set the ladies alight, and quietly faded into obscurity: Last seen at the Duty Free Counter in Luton Airport – the elephant graveyard of the perfume world.

14 years later, Giorgio remains determined to right this perfume wrong…to give us girls our aquatic fragrance back. Hell, we got the right to vote, to go to University, to demand equal pay, to wear trousers, and according to one Heapnose reader, to cook in bigger ovens: We’ve surely earned the right to smell good as we smash through those glass ceilings. And so Armani gives us “Acqua di Gioia” a fragrance which “…celebrates woman and nature”.

Inspired by a Mojito (good start) the fragrance is underpinned by the feeling of female independence – hence the deliberate absence of a man in the (concededly beautiful) ad campaign. The pro-girl power message is blurred somewhat however by the 19 year old supermodel who writhes on beaches, frolicks with horses (plural), and drinks from fresh water pools in a leafy jungle. Now admittedly I’m no trail blazer, but none of the above bear any sort of correlation with my plans for the long weekend. Woman and nature might be better represented by a pallid 26year old, sans makeup, shuffling sluggishly around Roath Park Lake, rueing the previous night’s 11th mojito, spurred forth only by the promise of an M&S Hoi Sin Duck Wrap and an evening of searching Richard Armitage on YouTube. Still.

Idole D’Armani – the last Giorgio release reviewed by your faithful nose, was elevated above High Street status by its impressive longevity, even in the face of a self loathing biscuit binge. Acqua Di Gioia fails to live up to any such standards of longevity – expect a couple of hours from this, at best. However, given the onset of summer, and the subsequent need for something a bit lighter, for once, I’m not holding that against our friend G. On a humid day in the office, or a hot day in the city, when fragrance is forced to co-exist with the twin scepters of summer; man-feet and man-pits – a refreshing fragrance, is, well, refreshing. It’s not insipid either. For all the talk of aquatics, there’s a warm, brown sugar base to this one that gives it a bit more gusto. Pat Heap really likes it, and aided by my recent acquisition (appropriation) of (someone else’s) desk fan (aka the fragrance fairy) the smell has been much commented on by office visitors. It’s not a classic – and if Giorgio was aiming as such then it falls short of the mark. But as a summer handbag mainstay, it’s great. Don’t expect the earth, and don’t pay full price for it – and you won’t be disappointed.

Available from July