The little ananas seller, originally uploaded by gobou.

Resisting the shortening of days and the decreasing temperatures, there is one thing this season that can help create the illusion of summer: fresh pineapples from Hawaii. Contradictory to most of what I read and thought I know about pineapples, Fall seems to be the best time to get them here, and Vancouver is apparently close enough to Hawaii so that they get here fresh and fragrant. So much so, that the entire fruit store smells like deliciously juicy pineapples throughout the fall. I would buy an entire pineapple and leave it on the table like a vase with flowers, the only thing keeping me from eating it, is the knowledge that the longer I wait – the longer my home will smell like a tropical island. This fragrance is unmatched by any floral bouquet I have ever smelled.

Vanille-Pineapple smells not so much like fresh pineapples as it portrays the idea of pineapples as we know it through the flavoring industry. Nevertheless, I like it. A lot. The beginning is so juicy and sweet, it feels just like sucking the sugary fluids out of a pale-coloured pineapple-flavoured popsicle. And while I am at it – if you ever make it to Israel, you must try this delicacy, which costs less than a quarter and is the best treat on a hot day (my other favourite flavour is lemon – the classic). The fragrance is intensely sugary-sweet, to the point that it feels as if it is underlined by warm melted chocolate, but than it mellows down. The icy sugary syrup than becomes more like chewing on a pina-colada flavoured bubbled gum - a really good one that makes huge bubbles! – and still very sweet and mouthwatering.

Once this sugary pineapple phase cools down, it becomes smoother and less juicy, as milky aspects start soothing their way through – coconut milk, and the slightly chalky, yet comforting oatmeal milk, which than warms up almost to an oatmeal porridge with a hint of cinnamon. This simplistic baby-phase is really fun, and gives an interesting spin on the pineapple theme, as it doesn’t stick to a tropical cliché too much.

The powdery oat milk becomes smoother as the base notes take over, as if boiled down into a caramely, thick sweetness. The caramel is flavored with vanilla and for extra warmth and sweetness; a shot of rum was sneaked into the base. The dry down is more vanillic, with some musk. Sounds like we smelled this before? Yes, but not quite. Some trails of pineapple tartness remain at the base.

Vanille Pineapple is a fun fragrance to wear, the type of scent that adds a smiley sunlight into an otherwise grey day. It might be too sweet for the summer though, so when it’s hot an you crave a pineapple fragrance my recommendation will be the slightly more tart, green and powdery Ananas Fizz by l’Artisan.

Kenzo Amour starts with a confusing floral bouquet – nondescript, abstract, utterly synthetic florals labeled as frangipani and cherry blossom. I smell a hint of rose and powder that is a faint déjà vu of FlowerbyKenzo – one of Kenzo’s greatest hits. There is an underlining of powder and musk. The heart notes dive into a concoction of cherries and steamed rice, in a dessert connotation such as rice dumpling or a fluffy coconut bun sprinkled with crushed raw peanuts; And a rather gentle suggestion of cherries – somewhat like a subdued version of Lutens’ Rahat Loukum. What saves me from drowning in sweetness is a slightly tart note, which I cannot quite place my nose on, and might be the white tea notes.

I was really expecting for something truly new from Kenzo Amour, and instead I got quotes from different perfumes: The base is powdery musk and vanilla, as in Flower, or the signature dry down of the Ormonde Jayne line (The tartness of Amour reminds me of the pink pepper and dates notes in Ta’if, and the steam rice recalls the basmati rice in Champaca). Also, it is also not far off from other mass-marketed scents such as Armani’s Mania and Code.

As for the beautiful packaging and bottles - this is quite a clever marketing stunt: three bottles of the same fragrance, in three different colours and slightly different shapes. These look great next to each other in the ads. But in reality, they look like an interesting take on clean Scandinavian and/or Japanese design gone affordable and sold at IKEA, after being molded into cheap plastic or ceramics, or worst yet – adapted into leather couches. I almost bought into it, and first bought the large freesia coloured bottle, only to discover that in this size it looks more like a vase than a perfume flacon – and the colour is all wrong, it’s orange and plasticky looking (anyways, when displayed on its own…). I suggest starting small, with the fuchsia bottle, which is truly adorable. However, when it comes to functionality, these beautiful designs can act rather odd: the elongated neck of the lid creates the peculiar feeling of gabbing onto a drumstick, prepared for a juicy bite… (well, it is juicy, actually…).

haiku, originally uploaded by torontofotobug.

When I first enter Chinatown, my attention is immediately drawn to the apothecaries and tea shops that are like no other: the famous five-spice blend, ginseng roots, dried rosebuds, dehydrated fungi, lizards, seafood and occasional flying dragons, and green teas from every type and breed and roast. Than my eye catches the colourfully irresistible fruit stands – with white peaches, nectarines and mangos, durian and and litchis. Chinatown perfume opens similarly with a dusty-sweet cloud of medicinal yet sweet smelling Five Spice, accompanied by an overwhelmingly syrupy sweet peach.

Next I am dazzled by the fabrics – satin, brocade, silk and simple cotton. A tapestry of colours and floral patterns that is very much like the bouquet of exotic florals at the heart of Chinatown – mostly gardenia, but also the spiciness of Chinese peonies, drawn on the back of a sandalwood-carved fan. Added to these are the gunpowder-like hot and dry Szechuan pepper.

As the scent progresses on the skin, it leads me lower and deeper, into cellars and basements dimly lit by paper lanterns and filled with fragrant antique furniture – camphor and mothballs aside, the scent of wood dominates, and besides the waves from the ornamental sandalwood fan, and through the gardenia wafts and the smoke from Buddhist sandalwood joss-sticks, there is an underlining coarse-voiced murmur of patchouli – like the secret writing of an ancient man. It’s dirty and dry and earthy and musky – but also ancient, with the texture of ink calligraphy on rice paper.

Once Chinatown settles on the skin, it is softened by the powdery sweetness of vanilla and musk, and the dry down of very dry, pencil-like cedarwood, and the hints of smoky, rosy and honeyed guiacwood.

Comfortable yet strange; pretty yet bizarre; juicy from hints of a lusciously sweet peach and also slightly fishy, like the dried exotic seafood sold by the merchants in Chinatown. While the scent is an abstract rather than realistic portrayal of a Chinatown experience – it does, in its own charming way, bring together elements – both visual, sensual and smellsual, that recall a day of wondering and discovery in a Chinese cultural gem that is contained in many North American cities.

Chinatown might need some time getting used to and is an unusual scent that contains many conflicts that surprisingly (and naturally…) resolve themselves just by existing, in a the manner of Zen: medicinal vs. sensual; sweet vs. dry; modern vs. traditional. Everything in this perfume, from the brocade inspired bottle, to the phases of fragrance development on the skin, is a phenomenal experience that is veiled with alluring mystery.

Top notes: Five Spice, Peach

Heart notes: Gardenia, Tuberose, Peony, Szechuan Pepper

Base notes: Patchouli, Sandalwood, Guiacwood, Cedarwood, Vanilla

Image of Chinatown bottle courtesy of Bond No. 9