Over the years, I’ve been told I smell like 1.) a Christmas tree, 2.) an ashtray, 3.) a sacristy, and 4.) an “ethnic” gift shop. On each of those “occasions” I was wearing an incense fragrance.

I’ve never reached the saturation point with incense-centered colognes. I love incense (and incense perfume) in all seasons. The aromas of frankincense, sandalwood, halmaddi, agarwood, kyphi, and copal can take me on a sensory journey from chilly European cathedrals to steamy Southeast Asian temples, from ancient North African and Mesoamerican pyramids to the high and dry deserts of the American Southwest. For me, incense evokes rites, festivals and magical landscapes.

Montale Full Incense includes notes of cedar, labdanum, patchouli, elemi, and frankincense...

I’ve been called a fruitcake and I’ve been called a fruit — but not because I smell fruity. Men’s and unisex fragrances rarely feature a sustained stream of natural-smelling (non-citrus) fruit aromas, so my perfume cabinet has always had an empty space where I could lodge a FRUIT FRAGRANCE or two — but that situation may soon change.

Last weekend, there was an unseasonably hot (over 75 degrees Fahrenheit!) day here in the Northwest and I stayed outside to feel the warm sun, to smell the saucer magnolias, wallflowers, hyacinths and clematis that are in bloom, and to enjoy the fragrant sea breeze blowing in from the west. The beautiful day made me think of the coming summer and I felt ‘summery’ myself; I reached for an untried perfume sample that sounded perfect for such a glorious day: Montale’s Fruits of the Musk...

Continuing with the jasmine fest, here are a few more worthy of consideration...

Jasmin Eau de Parfum by L'Orientaliste took me by surprise — I don't know much about this line, but now I'd like to try more. Jasmin is a sort of middle-of-the-road soliflore, not so heavy and rich as Serge Lutens A La Nuit or Bruno Acampora Jasmin, nor so light and summery as the Chantecaille under consideration yesterday. The base is woody and warm and has a nice earthy finish, and a hint of spice in the dry down gives it a sultry feel after an hour or so. It is not a terribly complex fragrance, and I wouldn't call it a powerhouse in terms of lasting power, but it is very nicely done and reasonably priced at $56 for 50 ml. If you've tried anything else by L'Orientaliste, do comment...

White Aoud starts out sweet. It probably only counts as very sweet in comparison to the bone-dry Black Aoud, but still, the sweetness masks most of the medicinal notes in the opening...

The French niche line Montale specializes in oudh perfumes, and their Aoud Roses Petals is a favorite of mine. Aoud Roses Petals is a study in contrasts — a light, dewy rose brightens deeper wood notes of agarwood, teak and cedar. It is rich and spicy but not at all overwhelming, and the later dry down is beautifully soft and enveloping.

Black Aoud also features rose and oudh, but the notes are handled quite differently here. As with many agarwood perfumes, a bitter medicinal haze (rather like medicated bandages) seems to float over the top notes; here, the medicinal notes are joined by heavy leather. Unless you adore leather, and the more of it the better, you may find that the first 10 minutes are rather hard to take. The blend softens considerably as the opening notes dissipate and are joined by sandalwood and rose. In keeping with the general noir atmosphere, the rose here is a dark, murky rose, nothing at all like the fresh, rosewater-ish rose of Aoud Roses Petals...

My prepubescent self was inhibited and stubborn, but also kinder than the "Teen-to-Come" — I would actually do things to please others. My father loved fishing and wanted me to love it too, so I humored him and always said "yes" when he asked me to go on fishing trips. I didn’t like handling the smelly crabmeat bait or seeing and hearing fish struggle after being caught, or getting seasick as monstrous swells would almost capsize the boat, but I enjoyed the fragrant sea breezes, the warm sun, the boat rides, navigating around old buoys and isolated lighthouses, seeing the herons, hawks and ducks that flew near us.

Today, I live far from those fishing grounds and the only boats I ride are ferries, but when I smell Montale’s Blue Amber fragrance I am reminded of those childhood fishing trips by an olfactory jolt...

Vanille Tonka was released in 1997, and has notes of tangerine, lime, cinnamon, Mexican vanilla, tonka bean and frankincense. It starts with dry citrus, very heavy on the lime. The citrus notes fade into a cinnamon sugar accord; the vanilla and tonka bean intensify over the next hour, and are joined by smoky swirls of frankincense...

I have posted about gardenia perfumes before (see Kai, Jo Malone Vintage Gardenia, and a few more gardenia fragrances). Here are a few more that I tried recently:

Dawn Spencer Hurwitz Pink Gardenia: In the Beaux Arts line, with notes of bergamot, gardenia, tuberose, ambergris and musk. It starts very light, with a touch of bergamot. The gardenia note comes on next, but stays very soft and low, then fades into a tuberose blend with a warm musky dry down. Much softer than all the white flowers might lead you to assume, and nicely done, although I prefer her Nouveau Gardenia...

I have tried quite a few Montale fragrances since I posted about Patchouli Leaves back in March, but have learned nothing more about the house or its history, so can only repeat what I said then: Montale is a Paris-based perfumer with two lines: an oudh line based on the precious oudh (or agar) wood frequently used in Middle Eastern fragrances, and a regular perfume line. Today I am wearing Aoud Roses Petals, which features notes of oudh, teak, and rose.

Roses Petals starts with a delicate and soft rosewater, which is almost instantly buried under a haze of oudh. The first blast of oudh is often described as medicinal, and that is probably accurate although I don’t find it unpleasant exactly. Certainly it is pungent...