Although it’s apparently a cult favorite, I hadn’t previously heard of today’s Advent calendar offering: Child. It was created by Susan Owens for her own use in 1988 and launched as a product available to others in 1990. Fragrantica lists its notes as: Lilac, Magnolia, Vanilla and Citruses (top); Jasmine, Tuberose and Violet (middle); Musk, Woodsy Notes, Mimosa and Rose (base). The Child Perfume website also lists orange flower, which is clearly present right from the start. The original formulation of Child was a roll-on perfume oil, but it is also available as an extrait de parfum. The sample in my Advent calendar is the oil, evident because of the sheen it leaves on my skin when I apply it.
To me, Child smells like a grown-up, more sophisticated Coppertone lotion. I believe Coppertone’s white flower notes are mostly described as orange flower; the fundamental “tropical flower” scent is present in both and may come from a substance like benzyl salicylate, an ingredient originally used in sunscreen because it both absorbs UV light and smells good.
Vintage Coppertone ad
I find Child to be more sophisticated because as it develops on my skin, the scent evolves away from the white floral, Coppertone accord and becomes more herbal, while new floral notes emerge. At the start, most of what I smell is orange blossom, jasmine, and tuberose standing in for “white flowers”, with a tinge of tangy citrus. As those fade, I smell something a bit more astringent, a bit less sweet, which could be a mimosa accord mingled with woody notes, but there’s also a slightly aromatic accord that isn’t accounted for in the notes list. The musky base also appears during the middle stage, and it lends a softness to the overall scent.
The combination of accords is very clever and appealing if you like beachy scents. For me, it evokes the late afternoon of a day spent at the beach, when one’s skin still smells of suntan lotion, the scent mingling with that of the sun-warmed vegetation nearby, while the temperature cools enough that one seeks a warm wrap of some kind to throw over one’s shoulders. Slanting sunlight begins to throw lengthening shadows, but no one wants to go home just yet.
I’m happy to say that today’s little Advent surprise, from my fragrance Advent calendar, is delightful. It is Mendittorosa’s Omega, one of the original three scents that launched this independent niche brand in 2012; it was created by perfumer Amélie Bourgeois. The other two scents are Alfa and Id; the brand says that the three, called The Trilogy, can be worn together:
Alfa, Omega and Id. Because in opposites we find balance, three perfumes were created to complement each other and complete journeys. Alfa and Omega are two faces of the same coin. Id (from Iddu, a local dialect word) represents the pure eternal energy of Stromboli, the active volcano off the northern coast of Sicily and spiritual Mendittorosa home for Brand Owner Stefania Squeglia. The Trilogy compositions are can be worn solo, or layered to achieve a truly personal effect.
According to the website, Omega has notes of Egyptian cumin (top); jasmine, violet, iris, rosewood (heart); and a leather accord (made with resin and oud), incense, Virginia cedar, white musk, and vanilla (base). Two notes on this list gave me pause, the cumin and the oud; but I can report that neither is dominant or even obvious, to my nose. In fact, if you had asked me whether there was either cumin or oud in Omega, I would probably have said no before reading the notes list. What I smelled first was a soft combination of iris, vanilla, a hint of violet, and a bit of leather. Right away, I perceive that the iris ingredient is of a very high quality; it smells buttery, smooth, and rich, and I love it. After the first half-hour, the leather accord has faded into the background, but other reviews suggest it may come roaring back later in the scent’s development.
Interestingly, I wonder whether Omega has been altered from its original formula, just because my perception of it varies quite a bit from the reviews when it was launched. Those reviews mention more smokiness and more jasmine, and on my skin it’s all about iris and vanilla, with some musk. The bottle design also differs from the one shown in earlier reviews (I prefer the current one, with a cap that looks like a silvery pebble from the sea).
Mendittorosa is known for its artistic packaging; the bottles are little works of art, with distinctive sculpture-like bottles and caps. I find the Trilogy bottles very attractive, including Omega‘s:
Omega eau de parfum by Mendittorosa; image from mendittorosa.com.
I’m very glad to have the chance to try Omega as I don’t recall having previously tried Mendittorosa’s scents. If Omega is a reliable example of their quality, I’ll have to seek some out! Luca Turin and Tania Sanchez famously awarded the brand’s Le Mat five stars in their most recent book, “Perfumes: The Guide 2018.” Have you tried any? Do you have any favorites?
Today’s post about the SOTD from my Advent calendar will be brief, because it’s a scent I don’t like very much, and I don’t like to write a lot about scents I don’t like. It is Amber Aoud, from Roja Dove. First, I don’t much care for oud except in very small doses, and I’m tired of how omnipresent it seems to be, both as an ingredient and in the names of fragrances. Sadly, I suspect that the reason it is omnipresent and the reason I don’t like most of what I’ve encountered are the same: chemists have come up with some cheap synthetic molecules meant to imitate the real, expensive substance, which probably smells much better and more interesting.
Second, I react to Roja Dove’s fragrances much as I do to Tom Ford‘s: there are some very nice scents among them, but the hype and the prices are too much. I’ve enjoyed visiting a Roja Dove boutique in London, in the Burlington Arcade, and I’ve occasionally stopped by the counter in Neiman Marcus to test, but I’ve never been tempted to buy one of his fragrances. There are just so many other, equally (if not more) appealing, less expensive options.
But, to briefly address Amber Aoud, the first note that hits my nose is in fact “oud” that smells very chemical and synthetic to me. It smells smoky but not in a way that I enjoy; I’m sure that more sensitive noses would experience it as “burning.” It does turn into something sweeter and more pleasant, but for the life of me I can’t detect the rose it is supposed to contain as a major note, or any fig. It doesn’t smell particularly like “amber” either, or at least any of the accords I’ve learned to identify with “amber.” The full list of notes on Fragrantica is: Top notes of Bergamot, Lime and Lemon; middle notes of Rose, Fig, Ylang-Ylang and Jasmine; base notes of Agarwood (Oud), Ambergris, Saffron, Cinnamon, Birch, Civet, Orris Root, Musk, Oakmoss, Sandalwood and Patchouli. I don’t smell any of the citrus top notes at all (but this may be an older sample where they’ve evaporated). The sweetness I sense after the initial smoke may be coming from ylang-ylang, but it’s very hard to tell. As to the base notes, I smell “oud” and birch tar, and maybe a hint of the orris root.
So that’s me and Amber Aoud. Sorry to disappoint any fans — your mileage may vary! If you know and like this one, please share your thoughts in the comments. I’m looking forward to something different in tomorrow’s Advent calendar surprise! Which is one of the fun aspects of Advent calendars — a little surprise every day.
So after yesterday’s “angelic” scent, today we have Tom Ford’s F**king Fabulous as the daily sample from my Advent calendar. I must say, without the calendar and a sample that was a gift, I don’t think I would ever have tried it, because I dislike the name so much. I mean, who is the intended buyer — middle school boys, sniggering at dirty words? Please.
However — gonna go out on a limb here and say, I like it. Thankfully, it’s not a “love it, must have it” kind of like. I really do like some of Tom Ford’s fragrances, but I resist the whole fashion marketing schtick, the snob chic, and I think the prices are ridiculously high. There, I said it! I hope I haven’t given offense. Back to the SOTD, which I’ll refer to as Fabulous. It was released in 2017 and it was hyped to the max. Fragrantica characterizes it as a leather fragrance, but the leather isn’t a heavy one, to my nose. Notes listed on Fragrantica include: Top notes of Clary Sage and Lavender; middle notes of Bitter Almond, Leather, Vanilla and Orris; base notes of Leather, Tonka Bean, Cashmeran, White Woods and Amber. It’s an unusual and successful combination, especially that herbal opening with sage and lavender, which I enjoy very much. That leather note in the middle stage is, to my nose, more like suede; it’s very soft. It blends well with the vanilla and orris notes. I think the bitter almond accord is what some commenters have perceived as a smoky rubber scent. I don’t smell burning rubber, but I can sense how it might smell that way to someone else. If I had to sum up this fragrance in two words, they would be “lavender suede.”
Lavender suede
Others have commented that the leather smells powdery to them, and I get that too, probably from the orris, plus the soft, warm base notes; Fabulous is unexpectedly cozy and cuddly. Many commenters talked about a similarity to baby wipes, but I think that’s really because many traditional baby product scents include lavender and vanilla, both of which are in evidence in Fabulous.
That’s pretty much my experience with it! I enjoyed sampling it, but I won’t be seeking it out. Have you tried it? What did you think? And how do you react to some of the names of TF fragrances that appear chosen to titillate, if not offend?
Mona di Orio’s Bohea Bohème is today’s Advent calendar scent. As soon as I dabbed it on my wrist, I thought, “Mmm, incense?”. It’s not really an incense scent, but it has many of the facets that make up a good incense, such as resins, fragrant woods, spices. It is built around a tea accord that evokes Bohea oolong tea from China, which is smoked with pinewood; a few floral notes are added (iris, osmanthus, geranium). The complete notes list on Fragrantica is: bergamot, cardamom, Florentine iris, chamomile, balsam fir, boxwood, geranium, black tea, juniper, smoke, oak, sandalwood, beeswax, bay leaf, benzoin, vanilla absolute, poplar buds.
That last one is unfamiliar to me; it is said to bring “a peculiar balsamic green and bitter-sweet scent” to a fragrance. It turns out, though, that I’ve encountered it before, in Tom Ford’s Vert des Bois, which was one of his quartet of green fragrances launched in 2016. Bohea Bohème was also launched in 2016, but was created by a different perfumer, Fredrik Dalman, while the perfumer who created Vert des Bois is Olivier Gillotin. Cafleurebon’s interview with Fredrik, linked above, is well worth reading; he is Swedish, though traditionally trained in France, and he prizes the scent of cardamom, a common ingredient in spiced Swedish recipes (I myself make an excellent Glögg, a Swedish mulled wine, with cardamom, using a recipe that was handed down through the family of a Scandinavian friend). The interview also includes his hilarious story of dressing up as Santa for the flagship store of L’Artisan Parfumeur, the company where he was apprenticed to master perfumer Bertrand Duchaufour. He went back upstairs to the lab on his break to continue working on a formula before returning to Santa duties, and was found there by his startled mentor.
Fredrik Dalman as Santa; image from cafleurebon.com.
I am loving Bohea Bohème! It is masterfully blended, so that the floral notes emerge slowly as the spicier opening fades. The notes list on the brand website is shorter than the one on Fragrantica: Black tea oil, Florentine Iris, Blue Chamomile, Poplar Bud Absolute, Fir Balsam Fraction, Smoked Juniper, Oakwood absolute, Beeswax Absolute. I love spices in fragrance, but there are some I can only take in very limited quantities (cinnamon and cloves, I’m looking at you!). Bohea Bohème is perfectly spiced, and it feels to me like a perfect holiday fragrance, with its combination of cardamom, balsam, scented wood, and a smoke as gentle as candlelight. Truly, as the website says, it is a “luxurious woody fragrance with a balsamic vibrato, unconventional and seductive.”
Do you have any favorites from Mona di Orio? Also, don’t forget to join me and my collaborators tomorrow for “Scent Semantics“! We have a particularly nice holiday word and reflections for you.
Bohea Bohème, by Mona di Orio; image from monadiorio.com.
Day 4’s Advent SOTD is an odd one: it is Monoscent G, from A Lab On Fire. It is literally a wearable version of a synthetic scent molecule, Galaxolide S, in a denatured alcohol solution. A Lab On Fire first launched it as a stand-alone fragrance in 2015 or 2016, then re-launched it in 2019 with different packaging and in a larger size. Galaxolide S is an IFF “captive molecule”, i.e. IFF created it and owns the rights to it (as well as the original Galaxolide). I really can’t explain it any better than A Lab On Fire‘s website:
BACKGROUND The original Galaxolide® was discovered by IFF’s Dr. Beets in 1957. Trying to simulate the odor of Nitro-musks it took many years of research to get from an idea to a commercial ingredient. The resulting Galaxolide® proved to be an outstanding musk with a very good price performance ratio.
FUN FACT The 1990s launch of Trésor, which marked a turning point for the personalization of perfume, kickstarted galaxolide’s worldwide success.
AN EVOLUTION OF THE EPONYMOUSLY NAMED SYNTHETIC MUSK Introduced internally at IFF in 2007, the Galaxolide S molecule is an evolution the long-lasting and clean properties that made the original the most popular fragrance in the world. It boosts product quality by offering tremendous performance in all categories. Particularly in fragrance, it is able to fill out fragrances.
Interestingly, Fragrantica quotes a study as saying that about 3 in 10 people are anosmic to this molecule, i.e. they can’t smell it. I’m not one of those people, I can smell it on my wrist. Apparently it is used to add “bloom, lift, and longevity” to a wide range of fragrance accords.
I’m actually quite happy to try a sample of this, because I’ve been somewhat curious about these so-called molecular scents, but I’m afraid I don’t really get it. I’ll have to wave my wrist around my husband’s nose to see if 1) he can smell it, and 2) he perceives it as an appealing scent. I may also try layering it with something else, maybe one of the light Zara Emotions line, to see if it has any effect.
Have you tried any of the scents that are basically a captive molecule in solution? What do you think of them?
Galaxolide molecule, by IFF; image from scentspiracy.com.
Today’s Scented Advent SOTD is Tom Ford’s Ombré Leather 16. (Aha! I remembered, with help from Google, how to put an accent aigu over an e!). I rarely seek out leather-based fragrances, the exceptions being Cabochard and Zara’s Vibrant Leather, so it’s actually a good thing to try this one in a small sample, as a surprise in my Advent calendar.
Tom Ford Ombré Leather; image from whatmenshouldsmelllike.com.
As soon as I dab it on my wrist, I smell that smoky, tarry scent we have come to associate with “leather” in fragrances. It’s not overpowering, but then again, I was dabbing from a small sample vial. I imagine that if one were spraying, one would have to be careful not to overdo it. Many commenters online, including the great fragrance blogger Kafkaesque, have concluded that Ombre Leather 16 is a lighter sibling of Tom Ford’s mega-hit fragrance Tuscan Leather. I don’t know, as I haven’t tried Tuscan Leather, but if Kafkaesque says so, I’m inclined to defer to her!
Created by Sonia Constant and launched in 2016, this leather has notes of leather, violet leaf, oakmoss, cardamom, jasmine sambac, and patchouli. Some commenters smell the violet leaf right away; I don’t. What I get right away is the smoky, tarry leather; then it fades (but doesn’t disappear) just enough to reveal the other notes. Apparently the leather note is based on an older synthetic molecule with a distinguished perfume history, isobutyl quinoline. Overall, the additional impression is dry and a bit green, thanks to the violet leaf, cardamom, oakmoss, and patchouli. The way the leather appears strongly at the outset, then slowly retreats, really does give the impression of ombré fabric — very clever! It becomes very slightly sweeter during its drydown, but it is not fruity, to my nose.
About an hour into wearing it, I’m really enjoying Ombré Leather 2016, though it’s not something I would buy for myself (full disclosure — I wouldn’t buy most Tom Ford fragrances, as I think they’re ridiculously overpriced). It has been reformulated, also by Sonia Constant, and there is also now a parfum version, launched this year, which is said to be a more floral leather. I might like it a lot on my husband, though; I’ll have to try my sample on him!
What Men Should Smell Like has a terrific analysis of Ombré Leather; the featured image is borrowed from that review. As Friday is usually Perfume Chat Room day, please feel free to chat about anything in the comments!
It’s the second day of Advent (and the second day of final exams at the university where I work — ugh). As regular readers here know, some of us were chatting back and forth about Advent calendars on our blogs, and lo! a plan was born. I have a refillable Advent calendar, and I have placed in it some of the surprise samples sent by a kind perfumista, only looking to make sure the samples will fit in the little drawers. So I don’t know what I’m going to get on any given day!
Today’s SOTD is Diptyque’s Eau Duelle, in the eau de toilette fomulation, created by Fabrice Pellegrin and launched in 2010. Wow, vanilla! I like this a lot, because it’s not a very sweet vanilla; it smells more botanical than gourmand. The website lists only vanilla, pink peppercorn, and cypriol as “raw materials”. Fragrantica lists its notes as: Bourbon vanilla, elemi resin, cardamom, juniper, pink pepper, olibanum, black tea, ambergris, bergamot, saffron, musk. The brand also describes it as “an ode to travel and vanilla. Along the spice route, the vanilla at the heart of Eau Duelle takes on new aromas: luminous, addictive accents of calamus and dark, smoky nuances of cypriol. Travelling through time and over borders, Bourbon vanilla from Madagascar reveals itself between darkness and light.”
Cypriol is a fascinating substance. It comes from the root of an ancient plant in the same family as papyrus. The Society of Scent describes its aroma as a combination of vetiver, patchouli, and cedar, with hints of pepper and bay leaf. That would explain the non-gourmand aspect of Eau Duelle; it really is more botanical — an herbal vanilla. When I first applied some to my wrist, most of what I smelled was a gust of vanilla, and that remains strong throughout. As it dries down, though, more and more of the herbal and woody facets of this fragrance emerge, in a pleasant, cozy way. One commenter has said that wearing Eau Duelle is like wrapping yourself in a cashmere blanket; I would add that you’re also drinking a cup of vanilla chai or other spiced tea while wrapped in said blanket.
Bourbon vanilla beans and extract; image from nativevanilla.com
I can’t distinguish all the notes listed on Fragrantica, but I do pick up hints of cardamom and juniper. The website also mentions calamus, both in its description and as an “olfactory accident”, whatever that means. Calamus is another ancient plant; Egyptians wrote about it as early as 1300, when it may have been used in perfumes. In our own literary history, the poet Walt Whitman used it as a symbol of homosexual love between men, and his masterpiece “Leaves of Grass” includes a series of poems known as the “Calamus Poems” or “Calamus Sequence.” Its odor is said to be warm, spicy, woody, with green notes. It’s entirely possible that the many notes listed by Fragrantica are really different aspects of just two substances: cypriol and calamus.
I could definitely see myself getting a travel spray of Eau Duelle some day. I’ll be interested to see, once I’m out and about more, whether I get any comments on it; there’s something about vanilla notes that really attracts people. It reminds me of Le Couvent des Missions’ original Eau des Missions cologne, a cult favorite with many perfumistas. Interestingly, it came out just a year after Eau Duelle, in 2011. If you’re yearning for that long-discontinued scent, try Eau Duelle.
I know some of you have been drooling, as have I, over the luxurious Advent calendars several cosmetic and fragrance brands sell as this time of year. Some of us were chatting back and forth about this on our blogs, and lo! a plan was born. I have a refillable Advent calendar, and I have placed in it some of the surprise samples sent by a kind perfumista — the remnants of a “traveling box” of perfumes that circulated among a group of enthusiasts, each adding some to send on the the next recipient. So I won’t know what I’m going to get on any given day, since I won’t look (I promise!) other than to make sure it will fit.
My fragrance Advent calendar
I’m going to try to write an Advent blog entry every day of December until Christmas, about the surprise fragrance of the day from the calendar. Wish me luck! They will be short posts, out of necessity. I love the Advent season, when the Christian world awaits the arrival of Baby Jesus and the renewal of hope. I love everything about it: the floral and evergreen decorations wafting their scents through the air; the special foods; the outdoor lights; the glorious music; Christmas trees! Now I have one more reason to enjoy the season.
Day 1’s scent is Nice Bergamote, from Essential Parfums. Created by Antoine Maisondieu and launched in 2018, it is classified by Fragrantica as a “citrus aromatic.” Notes listed there include bergamot, jasmine, ylang-ylang, cedar and tonka bean; the brand website also mentions rose petals.
Nice Bergamote, by Essential Parfums; image from brand website.
At first sniff on my skin, this is a very pleasing bergamot-centered fragrance. I think it would appeal equally to women and men, on themselves and on each other. I wouldn’t call it highly distinctive, though. As soon as I sniffed, I thought “I’ve smelled this before — where?” Alas, I haven’t been able to dredge up a specific scent that this resembles, but it might be Commodity’s Bergamot. Be that as it may, Nice Bergamote is clearly a high-quality fragrance with a terrific juicy opening and a pleasant dry-down.
The fresh bergamot note lasts a surprisingly long time on my skin; those citrus top notes usually leap out of the gate, make their presence known, and gallop off in a froth of lightness after as little as ten minutes. I think there’s an herbal note in this structure, not listed, that has the effect of extending the longevity of the bergamot top note, with its green astringency. It’s a bit like basil, but it’s not basil.
Advent Day 1 summary: Nice Bergamote is nice, but I don’t feel the need to rush out and buy a bottle. I’m very glad to have this sample to try, though! And if I did yearn for a full bottle, the price is very reasonable: 72 euros for 100 ml, which includes a 20% VAT. The brand also sells 10 ml travel sprays, which I always appreciate. Nice work, Essential Parfums!
I’ve always liked the scent of marigold flowers, that green, slightly bitter, yellow floral scent that to me smells like summertime. I think that association comes from helping my father in his vegetable garden as a child; he planted marigolds among the vegetables, a practice I now know is “companion planting” to ward off certain pests; the scent of marigolds is said to attract beneficial insects who eat pests like aphids, and to repel pests like cabbage worms. I don’t remember him ever explaining that to me, I learned it years later when I myself became a gardener and read many books on the subject.
My father favored the large, blowsy marigolds — the ones with the huge, heavy heads that were completely out of proportion to their stems and leaves, that inevitably lost their balance and toppled over sideways as much as any plant with its roots in the ground can topple. He also had a penchant for gladioli, those tall spears of flowers in colors that can be gorgeous or garish — sometimes both. Now that I think about it, his love for garish flowers was so uncharacteristic of most of his WASPy life, which included a New England boarding school, an Ivy League education, and a long career in the oil industry. Perhaps his love for the blowsiest of marigolds was like his love of opera: an acceptable outlet for the expression of over-the-top emotions that he felt his daily life did not permit.
These and other memories came rushing into my consciousness upon trying one of Scent Trunk’s original edition fragrances, Marigold. According to the website, its notes are: Salt Water, Saffron, Rose Petals, Carnation, Tagetes, Cedar, Sandalwood, Musk. It is a collaboration between two South Asian artists: Tanais, a novelist and essayist from Bangladesh; and Shyama Golden, a visual artist from Sri Lanka, focusing on their shared “love of psychedelic color palettes, sensuous botanicals and inspirationsdrawn from their respective motherlands.” Scent Trunk partners with artists in various fields as well as established perfumers to create its original scents, often centered on a particular ingredient or scent accord — in this case, Tagetes erecta.
Scent Trunk’s fragrance Marigold; image from scenttrunk.com.
Tagetes is the botanical name for marigolds of all kinds — the blowsy “African marigolds” (Tagetes erecta) beloved of my father, and the smaller, more elegant French marigolds (Tagetes patula) I like to plant. It is the dominant note in Marigold, though the fragrance doesn’t replicate the smell of the actual flower. When I first spritz Marigold on my wrist, the top notes create an intriguing brightness, and I definitely smell fragrant saffron, the queen of spices and the key ingredient in so many treasured culinary dishes from the Mediterranean and South Asia (Milanese risotto, Spanish paella, Indian biryani, etc.). Is it coincidence that several of them are among my favorite foods? I used to dream, in the most lifelike way, about a particular biryani served by a restaurant in my hometown in New England, and the clouds of fragrant steam it released when uncovered at the table and served.
Saffron is a particularly good companion for marigolds, as they both have a pungent yet sweetish scent that is distinctive but pleasant (at least to my nose). Saffron also comes from a particular flower, Crocus sativus, or autumn crocus, whose stigma and styles are harvested and dried to create the spice. Iran, formerly known as Persia, is a major producer of saffron for the world market, and the spice is a favorite in traditional Persian recipes; one chef/blogger calls it “the beloved jewel of Persian cuisine.”
Threads of saffron with crocus sativus
As the saffron retreats, the smell of tagetes becomes stronger. My nose briefly glimpses a shy rose peeking out from behind an equally reticent carnation. Those scents are present, but they are handmaidens to Lady Marigold. Scent Trunk notes the symbolism of this floral dance:
At the heart of this composition is an accord of sacred South Asian flowers that commemorate life, love and death — marigold, rose and carnation — notes abloom a base of sandalwood, saltwater, coastal pine and musk, recalling the river mouths releasing in the Bay of Bengal. Saffron threads, as iconic as marigold blooms, offer a wisp of Kashmiri spice to this watery, woody, floral summer monsoon perfume.
In India, marigold flowers symbolize happiness and the sun; they are often used in decorations for festivals and weddings, draped in long, fragrant garlands over walls and doors. India is also a major source of marigolds in cultivation, as is Bali, although the flower originated in Mexico and Central America (another fragrance featuring marigold is Arquiste’s Flor y Canto, which seeks to evoke Aztec festivals and uses other flowers like Mexican tuberose).
Marigold retains that pungent floral note of tagetes throughout its development, but the other floral heart notes are gradually replaced by sandalwood and musk, both soft and warm. There is a tinge of cedar but it is very light; it really serves to heighten the effect of the sandalwood. I can’t confidently identify the saltwater accord, but there is a stage when Marigold does remind me of Un Jardin Sur La Lagune, and that may be the shared reference to salt or sea water.
I like Marigold very much — enough to order a small bottle of it so I’ll have that when my small travel spray is depleted. Scent Trunk offers a sensible 5 ml spray of all its fragrances, which is plenty to sample thoroughly. I have several of the different travel sprays, and they are all interesting. Have you tried any of their original editions, or any of the DIY Bespoke line?
Serenity Now Scents and Sensibilities 