L'Artisan Parfumeur - Dzing!

Rubber, black leather, motorcycle goggles, sawdust, moist paper pulp. Affecting and odd, like Sylvia Bourdon's trysts on a Harley-Davidson, the death-defying stunts of the visitor in Radley Metzger's The Lickerish Quartet, and the hallucinations of the acid-soaked Girl On a Motorcycle. Petrol, danger, sweaty palms gripping shiny handles. In an hour heady benzoin and caramel notes emerge - the olfactory equivalent of a Victorian topsy-turvy doll. 7/10.

Serge Lutens - Miel de Bois

My compliments to Christopher Sheldrake for making this astonishing beauty, which resembles no other perfume on earth. I'm still literally catching my breath, so my words will come out all scattershot . . . Honey removed of all its Winnie-the-Pooh connotations, it's honey made from hemlock and toxins, nux vomica, folktales of wooden babies turned into ravenous monsters (see Otesanek), wooden teeth gnashing you to bits, ohmygod I can't believe this exists, STING STING STING, I'm going to bathe in this by the vatful, OH! but I am in love.

Thierry Mugler - Ice*Men

Well-lubricated ass.
It all dissipates after 30 seconds and dries down into sport-deodorant mode, but that top-note is one of the oddest and most sordid imaginable.

Thierry Mugler - A*Men and A*Men Pure Coffee

What piqued my interest in A*Men was its supposed resemblance to my beloved Borneo 1834, in that it had notes of patchouli and chocolate. Would this be a more price-reasonable alternative to my rare-as-hen's-teeth paramour? Alas, no. A*Men smells exactly like that species of male that goes clubbing, blinds your eyes with a permatanned oily sheen, is hirsute, has chains a-clanking, and has a ridiculously groomed goatee. The kind that likes to see desperate straight girls kiss for attention in between body shots and Brazilian waxes. This is a laughable little nubbins, a goofy adolescent horndog with a permanent hard-on. A very, very small one.
A*Men Pure Coffee is wan, a malformed foam heart on a too-weak latte made by an incompetent, 17-year-old barista in training.

Serge Lutens - Arabie

O Tannenbaum, o Tannenbaum,
wie treu sind deine Blätter!
Du grünst nicht nur
zur Sommerzeit, Nein auch im Winter, wenn es schneit.
O Tannenbaum, o Tannenbaum,
wie treu sind deine Blätter!
O Tannenbaum, o Tannenbaum!
Du kannst mir sehr gefallen!Wie oft hat nicht zur Weihnachtszeit
Ein Baum von dir mich hoch erfreut!
O Tannenbaum, o Tannenbaum!
Du kannst mir sehr gefallen!
O Tannenbaum, o Tannenbaum!
Dein Kleid will mich
was lehren:
Die Hoffnung und Beständigkeit
Gibt Trost und Kraft
zu jeder Zeit.
O Tannenbaum, o Tannenbaum!
Das soll dein Kleid
mich lehren.

Heeley - Cardinal

Instead of the cold, stony majesty of Comme des Garcons' Avignon, this is the radiance of the sun filtering through a rose window. Lighter and sweeter than most incense fragrances, this is the Sister Sourire of the school.

Guerlain - Herba Fresca (Aqua Allegoria)

Vaguely nauseating tisane that reminds me of being six and waiting for my sister at her orthodontist's office. Smells like a folklore abortifacient.