Monday, June 14: Ugh, the humidity is dreadful. You walk outside and start sweating… we usually don’t get this kind of humidity until August. SOTD: L’Artisan Nuit de Tubereuse. Which I can’t make up my mind about, except that it’s fascinating and, well, weird. Wore Tom Ford Black Orchid Voile de Fleur to bed, mostly because it’s so pretty and I needed a pretty scent for relaxing. VdF is not exactly uncomplicated, but I didn’t get any talons out of it this time, and I’m wondering if it only appears fresh and virginal compared to NdT.
Tuesday, June 15: Hot and humid, threatening rain. Thought the boys’ baseball games would get rained out, but they weren’t. SOTD: L’A Nuit de Tubereuse again. Review of this one soon – and I got a compliment today. The small spritz I put on the back of my left hand was noticeable from four feet away, apparently. (One spritz on one spot, on one hand. Four hours after application, too.) A woman I work with told me that I smelled nice. “Clean,” she added, and while tuberose is not usually my idea of “clean,” it is definitely my idea of heavenly.
The mower’s fixed. Haven’t got the $4000 bill for it yet, but it’s running, so The CEO and the guy that works for him have been mowing/raking/baling hay fairly nonstop.
Wednesday, June 16: Hot and humid, 91F. OTOH, it’s not Washington, thank heavens. SOTD: Yves Rocher Rose Absolue, which is not your typical rose soliflore. It’s an ambery rose that starts out with some spiced rose-berry jam, very sweet and piquant, meanders through a nice simple rose heart (composed of three different types of roses, but simple nonetheless) and then flops headlong into a really pleasant labdanum-tonka featherbed. I had listed it in the Bouquet of Roses post as a soliflore, but I moved it to the Ambery Rose category. Sadly, it doesn’t last as long as it should – it’s an edp but wears more like an edt on me, lasting only about three hours. Surprising when you consider all those base notes in there; tonka typically lasts a long time on me. It might last better when oversprayed (the “spray until wet” technique), but I only have a sample vial. (Note to Guerlain: Yves Rocher just ate your lunch, in comparison to Rose Barbare. No disrespect to Rocher, but in a just universe, this should not happen.)
Good thing it didn’t last, too, because Bookworm made jambalaya for dinner (I supervised), and the kitchen smells are rather overwhelming. I mean, dinner smelled GREAT – jambalaya is but an excuse to combine shrimp, chicken, and smoked sausage in the same dish – but not very compatible with sweet florals. Urgh. SOTE, once the jambalaya was safely stored in the fridge: Coty L’Aimant.
Thursday, June 17: A little cooler today, mid-80s. Wearing Nuit de Tubereuse again. Sometimes I think I really like it, and then sometimes it makes me feel a bit queasy. Once the earthy-rooty-mildewy thing has worn off and it’s mostly tuberose and woods, I’m fine. Tonight is the last of the regular-season baseball games. (Thank goodness. The constant running is making me crazy.)
Friday, June 18: Mid-80s again today. The CEO and Jeff, the “hired guy,” are making hay like there’s no tomorrow, or rather like there were going to be a lot of tomorrows before the cows can eat fresh grass again. (We typically feed cows hay for four months in the winter, but this past winter we had a lot of snow and fed out more than usual. Replenishment of hay inventory is essential.) SOTD: No. 5 Eau Premiere, because I left the house without spritzing, and EP was the only thing I had in my purse. I admit I’ve never regretted putting it on.
The CEO and I had to tag-team the boys’ tournament ballgames. Taz was with me at one field, and Gaze with The CEO at the other. Gaze’s team lost. Taz’s team was losing, badly, 11-4, when the coach of their opponent team suddenly realized that they’d have too few players to play the tournament game on Saturday. So with one out left in the game, they forfeited.
SOTE: my little split of Parfums DelRae Coup de Foudre, which came in the mail today. I won’t say a lot about it yet since I’m preparing a review, but the split host commented, “Rose lovers will not be disappointed,” and she’s absolutely right. It is very lovely.
Saturday, June 19: Taz’s team won. I’m stunned. I was expecting to lose today – this was a very good team they were playing, and the game was pretty close up until the third inning, and then it wasn’t. Dang it. I thought we were done with this. SOTD: Nothing. Too busy.
Sunday, June 20: Happy Father’s Day to my favorite dads: Ron, Joe, Paul, Bill, J.T., Bob, and Kevin. A hot, sticky one today – 93F and humid. SOTMorning: Vamp a NY, which everyone except for Gaze likes. (I don’t know why he doesn’t like it – he generally likes tuberose.) We celebrated the day with a minor league baseball game, and since my Vamp vamoosed between 1 and 4 pm, I pulled out a sample of Santa Maria Novella Melograno that a friend was so kind as to send me and spritzed it on. This is one weird little scent: tons of aldehydes up top – dry, powdery ones – and then incense. It’s not particularly girly, and it’s not all that friendly, either. Not a single pomegranate-y note in the mix, so why the name? Irony? Oh, and didn’t James Bond discover a bottle of this in the recently-deceased Vesper Lynd’s effects? Innnnnteresting. I think I’m going to have to wear it again. I can see why this friend is, as he says, “wearing the heck out of it” in the heat, though: it’s as cool and dry as a bracingly-scented talcum powder. It doesn’t really smell like Old Spice, but there’s an echo there somewhere. To be honest, it may be because my father used to use Old Spice talc.
Topic: The Smell of My Dad. Discuss, if you wish. My father used to smell of shaving cream and Old Spice aftershave and Mennen deodorant. He wore Old Spice talc for some time, and then switched to Shower to Shower when I was in college. He gave up aftershave in the last decade, since Mom bought him that electric razor, and now smells simply of shaving cream and clean laundry: reliable, thoughtful, quietly pleasant smells that seem to suit him.
Dad, thanks for more things than I could shake a stick at: for the basic necessities, the hugs, horsey rides on your knee, the wildly inventive bedtime stories about talking circus elephants who long for tennis shoes and married rats that live in the house of the Eek-Eek Lady. Thanks for bike-riding lessons, roller-skating lessons, driving lessons (and no, I did not ruin the gearbox on the 1980 Volkswagen 4-speed diesel Rabbit in 1988 – Consumer Reports said VW used to be prone to that little problem, and because, anyway, it was already slipping and even Mom said so), financial advice, college tuition, and for simply sticking around for everything. Thanks for teaching me that a real man takes care of his family. Thanks for really getting to know your grandchildren individually.
I forgive you for missing my swim meets and poetry readings (you made it to my choir concerts and piano recitals). I forgive you for not teaching me to change a tire and use a lawnmower (you can be dead sure that all my kids will get lessons in those things). I forgive you for putting off that DisneyWorld trip. I forgive you for monopolizing the TV by falling asleep in front of NASCAR on Sunday afternoons. I forgive you for telling me I needed to get a degree that would set me up in a profession, instead of studying what I wanted.
I know that when you say, “I think you need a new left front tire on your van,” you really mean, “I love you.” I love you too, Dad.
Image is from parfumgott at flickr.
It has been blisteringly hot here, too. It sure seems like August weather in my neck of the woods. It is supposed to be a bit cooler this week. I’ve been wearing all my eaux … Eau de Rochas, Eaux de Caron Fraiche, PdN Eau d’Ete, etc.
What a lovely end to your post. I’ve been melancholy for a few days as this day (Father’s Day) approached as I miss my dad so much. He was such a gentle man. I loved his quiet demeanor and dry wit. He was incredibly kind and loved to help others whenever he could and instilled that in three of us despite all the hardships he went through in his life.
But the smell of my dad was Guerlain’s Eau de Cologne Imperial. It wasn’t his daily scent but it was the only scent I recall him wearing when he dressed up for an occasion, be it a rare dinner out or a get together of some sort or just because it was Sunday! As a little girl, I remember seeing that Bee bottle and thinking it was so pretty. Whenever I get a whiff of this scent if I’m out and about I quietly smile and tell him I love him. Truly blessed am I to have had him for the time I did.
I wish everyone a lovely week!
Connie, it does feel like August, doesn’t it? Bleah. I don’t care much for colognes and eaux – it’s probably the citrus in there. I’d far rather eat citrus than wear it. That’s an embarrassing thing to admit – it’s like saying you don’t like jazz… (I don’t like jazz, either, unless it’s the early stuff like Billie Holliday – modern jazz just utterly depresses me and I don’t really know why.)
What a nice story about your dad! I know you’re pleased to get that sweet little reminder of him from time to time.
I’m sure that “your father’s smell” means many different things to different people, based on their relationships with their own fathers… I’m lucky to still have mine around.
Oooh, a “labadnum-tonka featherbed” sounds fabulous. It’s not anything like Stella, is it?
Well, I’m not all that familiar with Stella except having smelled it on a tester, but I seem to remember some patchouli in Stella. (Bear in mind that I’m the patch-amper.) No patch in YR Rose Absolue. It’s rather friendly.
Completely agree that tuberose is not ‘clean’ smelling. Are you sure that’s what your admirer was smelling? Perhaps you just naturally have a delightful clean aroma.
Well, I’m pretty sure she was smelling *me* – it’s a fairly wafty scent. And Nuit de Tubereuse is an unusual tuberose scent in that it’s not heavily tubey. It goes: Earthy mildew – sour fruit – pink pepper – jungle leaves – tuberose very far away – and incense.
But I think she was just being nice with the “clean” comment since the current fashion is for not-very-perfumey fragrances.