10 Dec
From Beth of Perfume Smellin’ Things:
“Daphne by the Lords Jester himself, Adam Gottschalk, is a very sexy femme-fatale fragrance that is surprising too…not at all what you’d expect from a perfume that includes such lovelies as grapefruit, jasmine, rose and frangipani. When I put it on the scent was immediately lovely and then I found myself completely intrigued. I couldn’t escape the leathery sweet and subtlely smoky base and I was reminded immediately of one of the men in my past. He was devilish, he always smelled of opium (not the perfume!) and he was sexy as hell. I think that Daphne could be worn well by a man and in some cases could be as physically arresting to the senses as Johnny Depp’s masterful gypsy in Chocolat. I enjoy wearing Daphne myself, but if my husband wore it I’d be continuously distracted so I’ve hid the sample!”
My next two projects, which are maturing now, are my osmanthus perfume, Phoebe, and my immortelle perfume, Chronos. Both are complex compositions; they’re not just osmanthus and immortelle. Each contain notes I have determined to add body and depth, 18 notes in each. In examining each of the formulas, one thing is clear: these are very different perfumes, just by way of changing a few of the parts. Ambrette and ambergris? In both. Rose and jasmine? In both. Rosewood and juniper? In both. However, they couldn’t smell more different. They’re both on the darker side, as is my wont, whereas they smell like two sides to the same coin, like honey on the one hand and maple candy on the other. Then again, I do have a rather whimsical take on the olfactory.
Neither of them is as sweet as all that. I’m sure many of you would smell them and be reminded of nothing of the sort. To be quite honest, I think of Phoebe as being an amber perfume, with the addition of osmanthus, and Chronos as being fundamentally dark, like dark at its core. This is not to say you wouldn’t be prompted to recall something entirely different, maybe from summers when you were a child, a forest, or even a beach (immortelle happens to grow on beaches in France). The odd thing is that Phoebe smells anything like honey, or that Chronos smells like anything but flowers; they each betray a sense of something “other worldly,” a feeling of belonging, an idea about what is and isn’t right in the world. Maybe that’s just take on it; in fact, I know it is. Such is the conundrum of those with a “unique” nose.

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