Profumum Dambrosia

More fig goodness- because it's the end of summer and because these perfumes are bottled happiness.

The simple note list for Profumum's Dambrosia sounds downright scary: almond, pear, fig and sandalwood. Just add brown sugar and bake- something like this pear and fig crisp. I actually researched some recipes, and the combination of figs and pears is rare even for desserts. It seems a bit too much.

The opening of Dambrosia is decidedly fruity, but not in a bad way and it doesn't resemble any of the mainstream pear scents (Gwen Stefani's L or the Marc Jacobs Pear body splash in all its synthetic glory). Instead, I get a round, honeyed fruit note with more than a hint of its green skin, without crossing the line into fresh territory. That's also where a very sheer almond note can be detected. It's not dominant and isn't very sweet- definitely more green almonds than sugary marzipan, which makes sense considering the fruity theme. None of these notes lasts long, though.

The heart and the drydown are intertwined in an interesting way. Most of the perfume's development is about figs and sandalwood. At times, one note dominates only to make way to the other one. The creaminess of sandalwood (think Tam Dao) is used here the way you often find milky coconut paired with green fig, but instead of the tropical result of those scents, Dambrosia feels darker and more grownup. If you wear L'Artisan's Premier Figuier during the day, you might like Dambrosia for night. It certainly feels sexy.

There aren't any other notes listed, but I think I smell some spices- nutmeg and maybe coriander seed, which go well with the cake idea of this lovely and satisfying scent. The lasting power is massive. I easily get 12 hours and more, especially when some cling to my clothes. A scarf that got sprayed would remain lightly perfumed for days.

In the US, Profumum fragrances are exclusive to Luckyscent/Scent Bar in Los Angeles, samples are also available from The Perfumed Court.

Art: Fig Tree by Paul Klee

Eau de Eww

This hasn't been the best of weeks as far as fragrance sampling goes, and not for lack of trying. The two new-to-me scents that I tested ended up being horrible scrubbers, of the kind that still linger even after you actually scrubbed yourself silly, and their memory is enough to make me shudder. We all know that fragrance is all about body chemistry and that there's a skin for every scent. I'm just not sure that I want to meet the skin that can make those two work.

Heeley- Spirit of the Tiger
The problem begins with the inspiration for this scent, the Chinese pain relief ointment Tiger Balm, which is more or less like Bengay. Do you want to smell like Bengay? Didn't think so. What made the noses and minds at Heeley think that this was a wonderful idea? Your guess is as good as mine.
The fragrance starts with sharp mint oil that is soon joined by camphor, to give you that medicinal touch. And if that wasn't enough, there's nothing warm and spicy in the clove note. I love clove when it's either in a gourmand gingerbread-like blend or accompanies carnation, but here it smells exactly like my late grandfather's dentistry clinic. A perfume that makes me think of the drill and of backache is definitely not a good thing.


Profumum- Fumidus
There's no nice way to say this: I hate this one. The listed notes sound quite lovely: Essence of distilled scotch, vetiver root and birch bark. The reality is that this is liquid smoke. The babble on the website says something about castles and owning a forest. The only forest here is a forest fire, and it stinks to high heaven. It was very persistent and took some work to scrub. A trace of really bad bbq remained for a while.

I think I'm going to be wearing some sweet and feminine stuff in the next few days.

On a Bad Note

I've mostly given up on trying to predict a reaction to a scent based on a single note (or notes) that I supposedly like or dislike. At this point, the only fragrance element that has never let me down is fig, and I was really hesitant in writing this sentence. Just watch how the next celeb to come out with a fragrance would be someone of a Kimberly Stewart caliber and the scent would be as comparable to great fig scents as Kim is to Stella McCartney.

But this isn't about figs. It's about oranges. Orange in its many incarnations appear as a note in many perfumes and defies classification. It can be a heady bloom or a rich fruit. It can smell sharp and spicy or comforting and sweet, candied or fresh. The options are many and there's an orange for everyone.

Apparently, it can also be cloyingly sweet. Lately, I've been coming across way too many of those. It began with Tocca's Stella. I've written about it here (scroll down a little to get to the part about Tocca). Stella's middle notes were of the orange creamsicle variety. It wasn't bad, just boring.


Next came Diptyque's Eau d'Elide. From the first whiff until the scent disintegrates and disappears completely (20-30 minutes later), the note I'm getting is of the candied orange peels my mother used to make. The listed note is of bitter orange combined with wild lavender and aromatic shrubs. On my skin, it moves from the very candied and sweet with a tinge of the bitterness of the peel to the soapy and cleaner lavender, but the sweetness is always there in the background. I don't hate it, but I don't like smelling like a candied anything.

The worst of the bunch to my nose is Dulcis in Fundo by Profumum. The listed notes are citrus fruits and Mexican Vanilla, and I'm willing to believe that this is all there is to this heavy, cloying pudding-like concoction. It smells completely edible, like an orange dessert, maybe a rich ice cream, until the vanilla cream drydown takes over (it lasts, close to the skin, for several hours).

I like vanilla in many fragrances and there are several rich gourmand scents that I enjoy. This isn't one of them. Smelling like a pastry shop isn't my idea of a good personal fragrance. I want something that blends several elements, that flirts with my personality as well as with my skin. Marshmallow simply doesn't make me feel sophisticated.