In Dans tes Bras, Maurice Roucel brings up the unspeakable topic of intimacy. Intimacy is something that is difficult to describe, but easily felt. It's a subtle emotion and a state of mind that occurs when we somehow connect to another person on the deepest level through closeness or proximity. It's one of those strange connections between spirit and matter: looking into someone's eyes and having a glimpse into their soul; being so close you can hear their heartbeat and sense their breath on your skin and breathing in the invisible scent of their skin.

Seemingly, there is nothing unusual about Dans tes Bras. It is very perfumey at first: violet accord that is both powdery like orris and wet and woody like cassie underlined by noticeable dosage of heliotropin - that vanillic molecule that makes heliotrope smells so sweet, almondy and plasticky all at once.

It is not until a few hours in that the intimate aspects of Dans tes Bras reveal themselves. At which point, technically speaking the woody base notes (most notably patchouli) are exposed, along with foreign molecules which I’ve never smelled separately and which create the sensation of minerals and salt on hot skin. From a more sentimental point of view, this is the point where Dans tes Bras begins to smell like perfumed skin that has been immaturely washed away in a warm salty ocean, but not completely. Whatever is left on the skin is going to dry out in the hot sand and sun and become only a vague memory of that violet perfume but an even stronger memory of that sunny afternoon on the beach. But if you wait till the morning, you will wake up to remnants of Nag Champa incense smoke that has stuck to your clothes, sheets and everything you've ever possessed.

Top notes: bergamot, clove

Heart notes: violet, jasmine, cassie, orris

Base notes: sandalwood, patchouli, incense, cashmeran, heliotrope, white musk

The moment I lifted up the lid of Velvet Gardenia to unveil its fragrance, I was swept into an unfamiliar territory, resting somewhere between dusk and twilight. A perfume simultaneously soft and diffusive like the performance of a soft-focused old-Hollywood starlet. The subtle and demure expressions are delivered by features that were intensified with false lashes and blood-red lipstick.

Velvet Gardenia will strike a nostalgic chord for anyone familiar with this heady flower; yet not in the least the conventionally pretty gardenia soliflore favoured by the Southern Belle. This gardenia was grown by candle light, deeming it somewhat waxy and distinctively darker and spicier than any other gardenia-themed perfume. Its dusky complexity stems from combining wine-like top notes, the spiciness of ginger lily and the underlining honeyed sweetness of labdanum. There is absolutely nothing tropical about it; it would be useless on the beach but perfect through a blizzard paired with a fur coat.

Notes: Gardenia, Ginger Lily, Orange Blossom, Honey, Labdanum, Incense

While temperatures drop rapidly, and the rain drapes the city skyline with a crystalline persistence, I turn my nose towards flowers that never bloom in the wintertime.

And rather than reach for one flower at a time, I am enjoying the concept of pairing them together and getting different whiffs from different directions. Here are a few examples of what I’m talking about:

Farnesiana parfum + Yasmin creme parfum
A double treat: wearing Farnesiana parfum extrait from Caron, while wearing perfumed jewelry filled with Yasmin solid perfume (I’ve just recently filled myself a poison ring with Yasmin). While Farnesiana is very cozy and on the gourmand-side, with it’s almondy heliotropin, it’s like a rich desert in an afternoon tea; Yasmin brings the vivacity of jasmines in full bloom in the summer time. There is something about jasmines that just makes me smile when I smell them. And if it wasn’t for my friend HR I wouldn’t have thought of wearing it in the winter time. She likes to wear it in the snow, and she’s absolutely right about doing so. It brings out the best of the perfume, the animalic aspect of jasmine yet in a very subdued way - and counterbalances the windchill factor.

Floral Candles:
While I have been (impatiently) awaiting my first batch of White Potion candles, I’ve been experimenting with Dyptique’s floral candle gift box. The box contains three candles: Tubereuse, Mimosa and Choisya (Mexican orange blossom). In the cold throw, snuggled up in their white box, all three are magical. Burning them together is overwhelmingly pretty and fresh in a springtime cheerfulness of flowers awakening to the sun after morning showers. I find these to be a tad too sweet and overpowering, so perhaps just one candle at a time would suffice even though they are really small.

KenzoAmour Le Parfum:
This full-bodied version of KenzoAmour is more concentrated (even though it comes in a spray bottle) and says out loud everything that I wanted to hear when it just came out. There is more frangipani, more depth overall, and the only thing that I’m still not getting enough of is the rice steam.

Velvet Gardenia:
I never though it would be possible for me to fall in love with anything that Tom Ford makes after his shameful men’s fragrance campaign; but the Private Blend line has just magically appeared at Holt Renfrew and from all the dark, resinous, incensey scents (from first sniff, they all smelled like various variation on the Tom Ford concept of what an expensive perfume should smell like) - Velvet Gardenia made a real impact on me. It smells like a macro version of gardenia’s heady scent, amplified but filtered to create some softness. It’s realistic and magical at once. It’s interesting even though it is a soliflore. And it is not as loud as white florals often get. A through review is in order.