This scent is more feminine and more excessive than past launches. It has an explosion of joie de vivre that is quite unique for us, and uses a lot more color...

Up until now, we have explored the more traditional and classic side of Prada, but the brand is much more than that.¹

Prada Candy incarnates the new Prada woman: she's daring, sensual, full of life and implosive. The perfume is named after this seductive and joyful girl who is running wild.

The first two statements about the new Prada Candy were made by representatives from Puig, the company that holds the fragrance license for Prada. The third is from the scent's description at Neiman Marcus, which has exclusive rights on the fragrance (for the US, anyway) until October. If a seductive and joyful girl running wild — and flashing her hot pink undies, no less — doesn't sound like the Prada that perfumistas know and love, hey, the times they are a-'changin, and you probably already guessed that from the name and the packaging and the advertising, all of which is a departure from the muted elegance the perfume house has long been known for.

So I figured I'd detest Prada Candy, but I was pleasantly surprised. They stuck with perfumer Daniela Andrier, who developed most of the Prada fragrance line, and she's done something that might reasonably be called Candy without being a complete pander-to-the-masses sellout. In fact, while I don't adore Candy, and it isn't going straight onto my buy list, I enjoyed wearing it considerably more than the last two feminine efforts from Prada...

Boadicea the Victorious is one of those perfume houses that I've managed to ignore for a while. It happens to be an easy line to ignore, because it has such limited availability; moreover, something about Boadicea has always irritated me. Maybe it's the cumbersomely large range of scents (does anyone really need to start a new line with forty-plus fragrances?), the strenuous emphasis on "luxury" and "heritage," or the single-adjective fragrance names that are hard to distinguish from one another as well as difficult to read on Boadicea's small, black-on-black labels.

When I finally stopped by Henri Bendel to try a few Boadicea the Victorious fragrances, I was joined by a sales associate who turned out to be well versed in the line. After I had picked up a few bottles, spritzed a few paper blotters, and decided that neither Romantic, nor Inspiring, nor Delicate (which seems like a knock-off of Penhaligon's Bluebell) were making any strong impression on me, the sales associate suggested that I try Exotic. Fragrances with the word "exotic" in their descriptive text rarely appeal to me, and I would not describe myself as "exotic" by any means, but I took the newly sprayed blotter from her and inhaled. Then I tested Exotic on my wrist, and I ended up savoring it for the rest of the afternoon; and when I later got my hands on a sample vial of Exotic, I enjoyed it all over again...

Les Senteurs Gourmandes by Laurence Dumont is one of those lines that often slips my mind for no particular reason. It used to be stocked at Sephora, where I have a hard time concentrating anyway (due to the crowds, the glaring lighting, and the loud music), but it's not there anymore; and when I do spot this brand somewhere else, I briefly wonder, who exactly is Laurence Dumont? and, am I really in the mood for vanilla today? before my attention wanders elsewhere. Well, I actually am in the mood for gourmand fragrances this fall, and now that I've sampled a few fragrances from the line, I've found myself enjoying them.

My current favorite from Les Senteurs Gourmandes is Tendre Madeleine, part of the brand's "Childhood Memories" fragrance family. Tendre Madeleine is described as "sweet, warm, and gourmet, a tempting treat from morning till night," and its notes are listed as bergamot, cannelle [cinnamon], almond, vanilla, white musk and precious wood. Like many of this line's fragrances, Tendre Madeleine is indeed dessert-inspired, but it's soft and light enough to be wearable in most situations. It begins as a dusting of spice, just as much nutmeg as cinnamon, over a buttery sponge cake. There's a suggestion of candied orange from the bergamot. The almond-marzipan note does have a hint of the so-called "Play-Doh" effect, but that's something I enjoy in small quantities. The vanilla becomes most noticeable on its own in the late dry down...

The dessert course has never been among my many vices. I can track a fresh bowl of heavily buttered popcorn from several blocks away, but the Triple Brownie Blackout cake has never called my name. Of course, I like chocolate — those people who claim not to like it always make me suspicious — but it must be very dark, and in fact, I will happily eat that 98% cocoa solids stuff with the consistency of chalk. Unfortunately, I do still drink pop, although I blame the carbonation there: I choose mineral water when it’s available. I love traveling in the U.S. because of the wide availability of brewed, unsweetened iced tea. (In Canada, if you are foolish enough to ask for an ice tea, you will likely get a syrup-based product out of a drink gun. If you can finish it, you are a better person than I am.) When I am cajoled into a dessert, ice cream or coffee bar by one of the many sugar-addicted members of my family, my first question to the server is always: “Which option would you say is the least sweet?”

This is usually my first question to a perfume sales assistant, too. I self-identify as a lover of bitter, salty, herbal and spicy smells. Looking over my fragrance collection, however, I am forced to contemplate the possibility I have been deluding myself...

So this review won't follow the usual Demeter pattern of yep, it smells just like its name. Demeter Egg Nog smells like sweet egg-y milk, reminiscent of their Condensed Milk scent, and as with the Condensed Milk, it reminds me of flan or egg custard. In this case, a flan spiked with a healthy dose of holiday spices (cinnamon and nutmeg) and vanilla.

There is a splash of rum in the top notes, but it doesn't last. The rest of it lasts for a surprisingly long time for a Demeter though, and it maintains its spicy kick well into the dry down. Like last week's Un Crime Exotique from Parfumerie Generale, it would make a perfect fragrance to wear on Christmas morning. Unlike that one, it is cheap enough that you could buy a half dozen of the small splash bottles for stocking stuffers...

But I don't love everything iris. Angela recently wrote a lovely appreciation of Le Labo's Iris 39, and I was very glad she did because I had nothing nice to say about it. And while I get the idea behind Frederic Malle's Iris Poudre, I have no desire to wear it. Same goes for Dior's justifiably lauded Dior Homme.

Iris Ganache, which was added to Guerlain's L'Art et la Matière range (see Cuir Beluga, Rose Barbare, Angelique Noire and Bois d'Armenie) earlier this year, sounded like it might not be my sort of iris...

Not surprisingly, my favorite from this set is Hot Fudge Sundae, the only one of the 6 that isn't particularly fruity. Here is the jelly bean recipe...

Eating one Jelly Belly jelly bean at a time is yummy, but Jelly Belly aficionados know the pleasure of combining different flavors to create "recipe" combinations for new gourmet taste sensations. Devised with definite flavors and proportions in mind, Jelly Belly jelly bean recipes provided the inspiration for creating the Jelly Belly Collection by Demeter Fragrance Library.

There are six fragrances...

One more day of comfort fragrances, then we're moving on; anyway, this is less a review than a brief news flash, and it is old news at that: Molinard Iles d'Or, as has been pointed out on several of the fragrance forums, is virtually identical to Molinard Tendre Friandise. Or at least, the version of Iles d'Or in the newish Molinard 1849 collection is; I haven't tried any of the older versions. If I had to guess, I'd say that it probably isn't the same stuff as the original Iles d'Or, which was released in the 1930s. This does not smell like a classic 1930s perfume. It smells like a modern candied fruity floral, and is one of very few such scents that I really like...

I've slowly been working my way through the many recommendations I got the last few times I posted about Demeter scents, and so far, the clear winner is Gingerale.

As with any Demeter review, this will be brief: it is not a complicated fragrance, and does not require any lengthy description. Still, some of the Demeters are better than others at evoking whatever it is they are supposed to evoke. This one is perfect. It smells like — drum roll, please — ginger ale, and the opening is almost astonishingly effective at calling up the carbonated part; it literally tickles the nose. Admittedly, the fizz part is not long lasting, but the dry down is far from dull. It is a soft but bright ginger...