A spritzing blitz in London with Tara and Undina: Day 2 - Ormonde Jayne, Selfridges, Les Senteurs, & opaque bottle overload

Avery scent animals

Day 2 of my London trip dawned sunny and warm. Obviously, in my windowless room I learnt this from my phone, not empirical evidence. I was due to meet Undina and her vSO at their Airbnb flat at whatever time we all surfaced, a relaxed arrangement of which I heartily approved. Just as well really, for having ascertained that it was in fact morning, and with devices fully charged, I soon ran into another logistical snag: the mirror in the bathroom misted up following my shower, and in the absence of ventilation took over half an hour to clear again, rendering makeup application a hit and miss affair involving a compact mirror propped up on a pillow. The cord of the hair dryer wouldn't have stretched as far as the en suite anyway, so I cut my losses and blow dried my hair from memory. It didn't look too bad, considering, albeit the ends were all pointing the same way - as in towards the hotel exit.

It was about 10.30am by the time I arrived at Undina's and her vSO's place, luggage in tow. Having stashed it in a corner of their living room, we sat down to an impromptu breakfast of cheese, crackers and truffles (I like the cut of their culinary jib!), washed down by two mugs of most superior Earl Grey. I was intrigued to see Undina put marmalade in her tea, which I hadn't come across before, but a spot of googling confirms it as a thing. Then I was excited to note that their accommodation had the exact same make and model of bathtub (Carron Delta!) as in my bathroom, along with towels the colour of the woodwork - Purbeck Stone, to any Farrow & Ball fans out there - which made me feel even more at home.

Before we set off, Undina helped rationalise my bags and applied a prophylactic blister cream to my heels, as I wasn't wearing any form of hosiery that day. I did say in Part 1 that I love being 'straightened out' by Undina, and I really meant it! I think I was quite good during the day at keeping my one remaining bag shut (and safe from robbers, a tip I learnt from Undina in Paris), but my persistent habit of walking fast and/or jaywalking between parked cars needed periodic reining in. Undina's vSO came with us, and did his usual thoughtful peeling off trick in search of blokey emporia at each of our perfume destinations.

Royal Arcade, Old Bond Street

Ormonde Jayne

First up was Ormonde Jayne's original store in Royal Arcade, Old Bond Street, where we quickly got chatting to two ladies from South Carolina - serious fragrance lovers who were just off the plane and ready to pound the pavements between perfumeries on a major acquisition offensive. Undina was able to help them out with information on reclaming VAT and/or getting their purchases past customs - I was only listening with half an ear at this point, as it didn't apply to me - and they were fulsome in their thanks for her seasoned advice.

At Ormonde Jayne, Undina was keen to sniff Jardin d'Ombre again - on skin this time - though it can only be bought at Fortnum & Mason. Meanwhile, my wrist was deployed as a scent mule for Ambre Royal, a Harrods exclusive. Jardin d'Ombre seemed promising to begin with - a citrusy green floral reminiscent of Tiare - but as the day wore on, it collapsed down to a nondescript blur of cleanish musk. Ambre Royal was a pleasant fuzzy amber, but we both felt we had that box ticked already in our respective collections, so it too was ruled out of our inquiries, along with Sensual Lover and Passionate Lover. The names alone of that pair might have done it for me, to be fair. And I speak as a huge admirer of Ormonde Jayne, one of the brands with which I have historically had the best 'strike rate'. I once likened their original range to a fragrance capsule wardrobe. I even thought up actual outfits to go with each one. ;) And Ta'if is possibly in my top two fragrances of all time - certainly my top five. However, Ormonde Jayne's range seems to have mushroomed since I last looked, as well as adopting an exclusive positioning (in terms of both distribution and pricing) on certain fragrances, and I must confess I find it harder to relate to the brand these days.

While in the Ormonde Jayne store we also sniffed the powdery, slightly oudy oriental, Rose Gold, which we both liked, even though it costs a wallet-whittling £345 for 120ml. Its manly counterpart, Black Gold, weighs in at a hefty £420 for 120ml, which would be exorbitant if it had in fact been actual oil. At Selfridges, our next stop, we encountered the third scent in the trilogy, White Gold, which was upcoming at the time of our spritzing blitz, but which has now been officially launched in that store, also on an exclusive basis. I liked White Gold even more than Rose Gold, to the extent that I shall post its notes, collated from Now Smell This.

Notes: jasmine absolute, white musk, orchids, leaf green molecule, pink pepper, mandarin, bergamot, clary sage, carnation, orris, freesia, vanilla, ambrette, cashmeran, amber, moss, tonka, labdanum, opoponax, vetiver and cedar.

Selfridges

We had estimated half an hour to 'do' Selfridges' - now even more extensive perfume halls than when I was last there - but thanks to the indefatigable patience of Undina's vSO, managed to renegotiate this to nearer an hour. In that time we scored samples of Rose Gold (Undina) and White Gold (me), and I was able to study the opaque bottles of this trilogy for the first time. Rose Gold was in a hot pink bottle that wouldn't look out of place on a Bond No 9, and which was also not dissimilar to my small pink knitting indeed. My views on opaque bottles are well documented elsewhere on Bonkers, but it doesn't stop me loving Amouage Honour Woman, say, and it wouldn't put me off White Gold either, had the price been right.

Editor's note: A reader has kindly pointed out that the bottle in the centre of this display in in fact ONE. I think the SA must have whipped a tester of White Gold out from behind the counter.

There was heaps more of interest in Selfridges, not least these animal-themed ceramic scent diffusers offered by Avery. (See also the pair of dogs at the top of the post. Undina and I scoured the fixtures in vain in search of a cat.)

Avery turned out to be the surprise stable for a host of brands, including ROADS Fragrances, which I have reviewed on the blog. I should point out that throughout the day, Undina had far more stamina than me for the actual business of sniffing, mainly from nozzles and on card. From time to time she would encourage me to join her in appraising something she considered of interest, or to ask my opinion on the notes we were smelling. (Tara would have been a better person to approach, had she been with us!) And here and there I got a rush of blood to the nose and got stuck in myself, notably when we came across the highly original - and punning! - Italian concept brand, Jusbox, whose bottles, sleeve notes, blotters, and assorted promotional material were based around the theme of vinyl records, the whole thing executed with gloriously whimsical attention to detail.

Undina and I were deeply impressed by the novelty of this brand, which had an extra resonance for me on account of my musical connections, and we tried them all on record-peeping-coyly-out-of-its- sleeve-shaped cards.

I initially thought I liked a spicy number called 14Hour Dream, but was quickly troubled by a phantom heliotrope note that I still seem to smell on the card some 10 days later.

We both liked Black Powder best, which is inspired by the 90s Grunge scene and its iconic spokesman, the late Kurt Cobain, and both came away with a sample. The blackcurrant top note caught Undina's fancy - no surprises there!

Notes: blackcurrant, apple, pimento, suede, tobacco leaf, olibanum, sandalwood, tonka bean, patchouli

We also swung by the Jo Malone concession briefly, where Undina public-spiritedly paused to refresh the 'tester stoppers' of one or two of their scents. I reminded myself how much I like Mimosa & Cardamom, and noted in passing that 30ml now costs £44 instead of £30 odd back in the day. I don't know if that is down to rising costs of ingredients or general opportunism, but prices of niche (I use the term loosely) seem to have increased across the board in recent years, with Roja Dove's line famously seeing the price uplift equivalent of a Harrier Jump Jet taking off from a warship. And being a bit of a born again tuberose lover, I also tried Tuberose Angelica, part of the Cologne Intense range, but it was too intense, sadly, despite a flurry of card wafting attempts to quieten it down.

Other highlights from our Selfridges session were the male fragrances, Layton and Pegasus from Parfums Marly, though I was found the fussy pink livery of the top-selling feminine scent, Delina, a tad disturbing.

It reminded me of talcum powder or those rather garish opaque Xerjoff bottles, and to my eye looked cheap, to be perfectly honest.

Source: essezna-nobile.de

Just around the fixture, I fell hard for Amouage Blossom Love, despite its also coming in a pink opaque bottle! The opening notes were like being in a pillow fight of orange-inflected petals, and again I feel moved to document the notes:

Notes: bergamot, heliotrope, amaretto, ylang, rose, cherry blossom, amber, tonka bean, vanilla and suede

Source: fragrantica

Well, well, I see there's an actual heliotrope note and it didn't bother me at all. Colour me inconsistent! We also smelt Bracken - again in Undina's case - and whilst I found it interesting, it was absolutely not my thing, and got progressively 'strange fruit-ier' as it wore on.

Don't ask!

It was way past lunchtime by now, and so we popped into the cafe on the corner by Les Senteurs for a quick snack to fortify us for the final leg of our sniffathon. And here we had another of those comedy moments when Undina and I discovered we were both carrying Dior lipsticks...in Paris it had been a case of 'Burberry bingo'. What are the chances of that? So obviously Undina's vSO had to photograph this uncanny coincidence...

'I'll raise you Pisanelle Pink!'

Les Senteurs

Undina's vSO sat on the famous stripey sofa to the rear of the store that is the ideal base for resting spouses, while Undina and I went for one last testing 'push', aided by the chatty and helpful Harley, who turned out to be proprietor Claire's niece. I daubed myself in Superstitious, the much talked about new release from Frederic Malle, in the hope that it would come up as prettily as on Tara; an hour or so into its development Undina and I remained to be convinced. I did come away with a sample to try further at my leisure, ditto one of ELDO's Fils de Dieu du Riz et des Agrumes, a bottle of which I definitely see in my future. Or more likely a split bottle with my friend Rachael Potts. I was also delighted to introduce Undina to Caron's Parfum Sacre, which I was hopeful she would like, and so it proved.

By five-ish we really were all sniffed out - okay, speaking for myself, I mean - for back at base, Undina went on to roll up a trouser leg and spray a sample I had brought for her to try on her knee (one of the few remaining clear spots left), before quickly rustling up a reviving meal of salmon and sour cream tortilla wraps. I will definitely try replicating that back home. I also extracted all Undina's blotters from between the leaves of my notebook where I was keeping them carefully separated for her, collected my luggage, and said my goodbyes. It was a real wrench, no question.

Not the ones we ate, but we discussed all meanings of 'tortilla'

Unfortunately, due to a conspicuous absence of tubes at Bayswater, I missed my (specific!) train back to Stafford. It took me eight conversations with staff at two rail companies and London Underground to extract a chit that confirmed the delay on the Circle Line (which they vehemently denied, but gave me the benefit of the doubt anyway!) to get my non-transferable ticket authorised for use on the next service, so I didn't have to buy a whole new single for the same money as my return. So that was a result, and only added an extra hour to my journey time.

So what did I learn over the course of the two days about the stage I am at in this hobby? Well, that I am somewhat less eager to try new scents than I was a few years ago, probably because I have so many things I feel I should use up first. However, I still have the capacity to get excited about new perfumes (and even crave bottles of them), though I might struggle to integrate them into my oversized collection without pangs of guilt.

And I also had further confirmation - not that it was needed - that it's the people in our perfume world who matter most. And that while fragrance is the catalyst for our bonding, if you took it away, the friendships would still have a momentum of their own...

NB Val gave me this bunny via Tara. It didn't make it beyond Rugby.

Blistering heat with matching feet: Tara, Val and I 'stick together' on a London sniffathon

The Gang of Three at Les Senteurs ~ Photo by Callum on Val's phone

Last week saw the return to London of Val the Cookie Queen of APJ - she was over in England (which I am flattered to report she calls 'home') for a week's holiday, staying with friends in North London.  Tara hooked up with Val on both Wednesday and Thursday (her report is now up on Olfactoria's Travels!), while I joined the pair at lunchtime on Day Two for an eight hour perfumery crawl. Okay, that is rather a grand term for a visit to Penhaligon's and Les Senteurs, but Tara and Val had done a lot more crawling that morning, as you will learn.

The day started quite early for me, with only a minor clothing crisis by the standard of Val's last visit in February (the bedroom devastation scene on that occasion was captured here). It has been so hot lately that I was naturally drawn to a tiny sub-section of my wardrobe, namely my most insubstantial (while not overly revealing) outfits. This is quite a tricky combination to pull off as it turned out, 'pull off' being the operative term. In the end I went for an apricot, cream and black patterned sundress I bought in Majorca in 2007, which I had only ever worn once! I was particularly gratified to find a use at last for an...ahem...foundation garment featuring apricot coloured straps. That item of clothing has been waiting 20 years or more to come into its own, and last Thursday was the day. On the flip side, my matching cream shoes were chafing terribly before I even made it to the station, prompting an earlier than expected switch to the emergency footwear I had packed in my rucksack for just such an eventuality - a pair of black plimsolls that rather undermined the floaty tea dress look I was going for, but which were endlessly forgiving on the feet.

Piazza pitstop purveying pricey but perfect bagels

Just before the appointed time of 1.30pm, I emerged from Covent Garden tube station to find Tara and Val already outside waiting for me. After ginger hugs all round (on account of our generalised stickiness), we repaired to the nearest eaterie, an al fresco Italian restaurant in a prime spot (read 'tourist trap') on the square. Privately we were all thinking: 'Bring on the robdog prices!', but frankly no one really minded what it was going to cost, so grateful were we for shade, fluid and food, in approximately that order. Oh, and a toilet, mentioning no names... As it happens, our predictably expensive snacks were extremely good - Tara and I had the absolute non-pareil of smoked salmon and cream cheese bagels, and I have tasted a few non-pareil pretenders in my time. As it happened, Val's very generous husband treated us to lunch - and yes, it was indeed one of those 'card holder not present' scenarios. His card was actually present, but not the holder. Thanks, Val and Herr Sperrer!

Revictualled and revitalised, at my instigation we decided to track down the stand of British perfumer Tom Kosmala, whose Rose Amber Musk perfume I featured in a recent post. His address was listed as 'Apple Tree Market', which refers to a collection of stalls under cover, bang in the centre of the Covent Garden complex. We systematically walked the length and breadth of the market, but there was absolutely no sign of the man - or his stand. I checked the opening hours on my phone, in case it was 'Sunday to Tuesday' rather than 'Tuesday to Sunday', but no, this was technically a day when he should have been there. What can I say?  The man is chronically elusive, with his light-as-a-feather Google footprint and conspicuous absence on the ground. Maybe it is all part of a marketing ploy, to whip perfumistas up into a frenzy of pent up curiosity? Meanwhile, the three of us shrugged and ambled into Penhaligon's instead.

The Covent Garden branch of Penhaligon's - formerly a L'Artisan Parfumeur store which I visited two years ago almost to the day for the launch of Séville a l'aube! - is a thing of great beauty.  I am not sure I have ever set foot inside a more lovingly curated and aesthetically pleasing retail space. It has been merchandised to within an inch of its life, with exquisite attention to detail and quirky architectural motifs and artefacts at every turn.

Penhaligon's perfume bottle pendant lamps!

I could have stood there all day, gazing at the fixtures both upstairs and downstairs, a womblike subterranean cavern that serves as both office space and a customer 'lounge' where people can sit down at a long mirrored table to sample the entire range at their leisure. Fellow fumehead Nick Gilbert works for Penhaligon's of course, as their Fragrance Ambassador and Events Manager. He greeted us warmly and invited us to have a sniff of any of the recent releases we might have missed - it was Val's first trial of Tralala, for example, which is shaping up to be a full bottle lemming of mine - at this rate I might even have to make my peace with the scary doll's head. ;)

We also got to try the newest addition to the Penhaligon's stable, Bayolea. Bayolea is the colognic(?) - don't lose the 'g'! - centrepiece of Penhaligon's first ever men's grooming range. It is a reformulated classic scent from the company's archives, in which the citrus aspect has been amped up and the 'barber's shop' vibe toned down. All the products in the range are in fact scented with Bayolea, which is billed by Penhaligon's as 'zesty and invigorating'. And while the rest of the line may be aimed at men, we all agreed that Bayolea the fragrance could work just fine on a woman. It is probably worth a review in its own right once I have caught up with a sample, but while in store we sniffed it on our own and on Nick's skin, and it was variously lovely all round. On me it resembled Tauer's Cologne du Maghreb, with a similar lemon verbena brightness and herbal undertow. It really hit the spot on such a hot day.

Top notes: lemongrass, mandarin, tangerine
Heart notes: cardamom, black pepper, neroli, lavender
Base notes; cedarwood, sandalwood, musk, moss, patchouli, amber

Downstairs, we parked ourselves at the long table, catching up on the latest news and gossip on the perfume scene, such as Nick's recent trip to Paris where he got to hang out in Bertrand Duchaufour's lab - dream job or what?!

Val, Nick and Russian doll-effect Tara

A major highlight of the visit for me was a close encounter with this gorgeous French sink. Apparently the Regent Street branch of Penhaligon's boasts equally splendid sanitaryware from a venerable English manufacturer called Chadder. Well, given my keen interest in bathroom fixtures at the moment, it was an unexpected bonus, and from now on I vowed to pay more attention to this fundamental aspect of perfumery fixtures...

Me, starstruck by sanitaryware

From Penhaligon's we headed over to Nick's previous workplace, the Seymour Place branch of Les Senteurs. Liz Moore's Papillon Perfumery range had recently arrived, and was prominently displayed on a dear little perspex podium, which I signally failed to photograph.  I was too hot and bothered by this stage to do very much sniffing, though my nose was momentarily distracted by a new Creed called Vetiver Geranium, which may well appeal to my vetiver-loving teacher friend, Sheila.

Barefoot Val and no-foot Tara at Les Senteurs

The most enjoyable aspect of our visit to Les Senteurs was flopping on the regal looking sofa and chatting to Callum, the perfumery's Digital Marketing Manager. Val sprang for a bottle of the new Frédéric Malle, Eau de Magnolia, and on the spot gave Tara and me generous decants from her treasured purchase. Though not until she had (quite rightly) copiously anointed herself with the opening spray (or three). It is as beautiful a scent as I was expecting, and now that I have tried it for myself, I can wholeheartedly endorse Tara's evocative review. The comfy sofa also gave me an opportunity to discreetly attend to T's own emerging blister collection with scissors and bandage I had thought to bring along - well, she did have one angry-looking patch on her right? heel. (For anyone studying the photo above, Tara does have feet really...!)

Callum of Les Senteurs

By now, Val's coffee deficit was reaching critical levels, so we legged it round the corner to a cafe, where Tara treated us to the pick-me-up beverage of our choice - a big pot of tea in my case.  Here we chatted about life in general and got to know one another better. As is so often the way in Perfume Land, you could take our hobby away from us all and we would still have loads in common and ample foundation for a good friendship. Then it wasn't long till the first hunger pangs stirred, so we introduced Val to Roti Chai, the modern Indian restaurant round the corner, which a bunch of us had frequented on the night of Neil Chapman's talk on vanilla for Perfume Lovers London back in March. The food didn't disappoint this time round - Tara and I had the chicken curry I really rated from that earlier visit, while Val opted for a spicy dish involving chilli and paneer.

Tara at Roti Chai

Val also tipped me off about the pretty groovy Ladies toilet downstairs, and so it proved. The compact sink was by the sleekly modern brand Duravit - oh, the one at Les Senteurs was by Laufen if anyone is curious, and there was additionally an amusing sign over the toilet which I resisted the urge to feature here...;)

Generous edge for putting stuff on this Duravit sink!

In no time at all, it was the parting of the ways again and I reluctantly headed back to Stafford.  As in February, the presence of a (by now half eaten) cookie on the train home reminded me that the day's events had not all been a pleasant dream.

Well, not just a cookie, even, for between the pair of them I had taken receipt of a number of decants and samples, a tea towel (Portia, what have you started?) and a tube of Bergsalz from Austria (mountain salt). Goodness, I have just read the label and it turns out to be very ancient stuff indeed. If I looked that bright and sparkly after 150 million years buried deep in the Alps, I'd be well pleased.

So yes, a big thank you to Tara and Val, Nick and Callum for a hot, happy and fragrant day out that I will remember for a long time to come...let's do it all again soon!

A fishy fumehead encounter, featuring Val the Cookie Queen and Portia Turbot-Gear

Val and Thomas at Bloom, with Michael and half of Nigel in the background

Readers may well have been following the adventures of irrepressible Antipodean drag queen Portia of APJ and her urbane fellow contributor Michael as they have been on a bit of a world tour in recent weeks. This has taken in Austria, Germany and France, to name just the countries I have clocked in blog posts and Facebook updates.  In the final leg of her travels, Portia blew into London the other day, as did another member of the APJ crew, Val the Cookie Queen, accompanied by her daughter.  Portia and Michael had already visited Val and family in Austria, as well as hooking up with Birgit and Sandra of Olfactoria's Travels in Vienna for - amongst other things - that all-important tea towel handover. Yesterday, a group of about ten perfumistas (mostly bloggers, in the event) foregathered in the Spitalfields district of London for a mini-perfumery crawl and hearty fish and chip lunch.  Which doesn't have quite the same ring to it as 'fish and chip supper', but there you go.

I say 'blew in', not just because both Portia and Val are live wires, which they are in spades (do spades have wires? Of course they do!), but because it was unfeasibly windy that day.  Umbrella-thrapingly so, if I had had the foresight to bring one with me, topped off with a side order of cold lashing rain.  Now we have had gales all last week where I live, but I don't expect such dismal weather when I come down to London. Why, London is practically in the tropics as far as I am concerned, and I expect my full thermal value - I had even doffed my winter vest in anticipation! - but it was signally lacking yesterday.

Spillover clothing crisis in the office

I don't know if the weather had anything to do with it, but I nearly missed my train in the morning, owing to a clothing crisis of unprecedented proportions that lasted a full hour and laid waste to several rooms (by no means all of them bedrooms).   It seemed impossible to pick out a single outfit that went even some way towards a harmonious union of colour, shoe comfort, fabric type (including any day/night connotations), trouser length, weatherproofing, warmth, and flexibility of warmth.Trying to add a fashionable element into the mix would have tipped me into complete meltdown, if indeed I had owned garments that nodded in that direction. But eventually, reason prevailed and I settled on a tunic top and suit trousers, flat shoes - and no vest!

Epicentre of the clothing carnage

When the train reached Milton Keynes, I hooked up with Thomas, The Candy Perfume Boy, and his soon-to-be-husband Nigel, though not before I had sewn up not one but two knitted hats!  Nothing like a wifi coldspot for prompting the completion of an abandoned crafting project.  The three of us made our way to Aldgate East tube station, where we had arranged to meet Tara.  There we spent the obligatory ten minutes being royally flummoxed by 'multiple exit syndrome', before fortuitously popping up at Exit 3, where Tara was waiting for us, looking serene and lovely as ever - and not the least bit buffeted or rainswept.

We struck out intially in the wrong direction, but Thomas quickly google mapped us back on track, and we wove our way deftly through the narrow streets around Brick Lane.  I stuck closely to him, not least because he was emitting beguiling whiffs of Tom Ford Shanghai Lily, which I had briefly sampled in Paris in June, yet somehow its spicy floral glory had failed to woo me till now.  I may have offered to marry Thomas at one point, possibly within earshot of Nigel.

My new scent squeeze ~ Source: harveynichols.com

When we arrived at Bloom in Spitalfields, it was already packed out with a lively throng of fumeheads in full sniffing mode, including Val and Portia, Michael, Nick Gilbert (Fragrant Reviews) and Joshua Ang (The Smelly Vagabond). Freddie Albrighton (Smellythoughts), whose train had been delayed, joined us shortly afterwards.)  Introductions over, a small flurry of mutual present giving ensued.  I gave Val a poster of The Monochrome Set and a purse for keeping samples in; she gave me cookies of her own manufacture (yay!) and an antique silver button hook, which belonged to her grandmother.  Tara copped for a hat(!) - my hat knitting compulsion having lately escalated to the point where I have exhausted the pool of potential recipients in Stafford - while Portia took custody of a pair of minuscule notebooks and a slightly broached box of fudge that was briefly pre-owned - or at the very least funded - by Tom Cruise. Thereby hangs a tale which will feature in Bonkers in due course, along with its Portia-enabled sequel...

Nick in classic raised forearm pose, with mischievous grin (not pictured)

Oh, and I did remember to do a bit of sniffing, but only a couple of things.  For example, I finally caught up with the new rose release from Parfumerie Generale - No 26 Isparta.  When Pierre Guillaume kissed me(!) after the talk at Les Senteurs in 2012, he also whispered in my ear that he was working on a rose scent. Well, all I can say is that it's been a long time coming, and as Nick pointed out, it does smell somewhat similar to Portrait of a Lady - you might be forgiven for thinking that in the space of two years PG might have taken his composition in a more original direction, but apparently not.  So no new lemming there, thankfully.

The lovely Tara, pictured with her 'To Sniff' list?

Soon it was time to repair next door to Poppies, a retro diner famous for its prize-winning fish and chips. The table assigned to us wasn't quite big enough, but by sheer force of numbers and a bit of strategic staring we quickly saw off the two couples at adjacent tables, and suddenly had ample room to accommodate our own substantial party.

Nick, Freddie, Portia Turbot-Gear (sic!) and Michael

Inevitably, we couldn't stop passing round bottles and samples for one another to sniff, and I got to try the new Dita Von Teese Erotique - which was exactly the 'teesingly' spicy, sandalwoody number Thomas had described in his review - also Vero Profumo Mito Voile d'Extrait, which is less acerbic and more floral than the original EDP, thanks to the addition of tuberose.  I sprayed it liberally on my front, then later wiped the overspray from my Zelda bottle (from when I was making samples for other people) on the back of my neck.  I felt like a scented version of Janus!

Tara, Joshua and Nigel

Our food came pretty quickly, so we had to clear away some of our perfume tackle to make way for huge plates of fish and bottles of condiments.  Not only was its flesh as white as a Hollywood smile, but my haddock was intriguingly upended on its side, though I had to knock it over in order to set about eating it. Sarah, another perfumista who joined us at the restaurant, also had vertical fish, which is not a style of presentation I had previously encountered.

Sarah's fish standing to attention

Replete from our big meals, our slightly bedraggled gaggle braved the weather again to make our way to - no, not Angela Flounders as you might very well imagine, with it being in the immediate vicinity - but Les Senteurs in Seymour Place. As we walked I chatted to Portia a bit about his time in London some 20 years ago, and mentioned that I had also been to Sydney and owned a koala called Mosman.  Only a toy, obviously, but the real things are, after all, not markedly more lively.  Or not the ones living in Canberra Zoo in late 1993.  Portia endeared himself to me by guessing that he was the eldest in our group, when he is fact nine years my - and Val's - junior.  Also by describing me as 'glamorous', which I mistakenly heard as 'cadaverous', to people's amusement.

The By Kilian invasion

Since my last visit, Les Senteurs had been rather taken over by By Kilian, to which an entire wall had been devoted. I ignored the whole fixture and instead made a beeline for the opposite, more diversely stocked wall, where I tried Atelier Cologne's Silver Iris.  It was every bit as likable as the reviews had suggested, and - like The Monochrome Set's penultimate album - its shiny silver surface could have doubled up in a pinch as an emergency compact mirror, however, I think I have enough irises in my collection.

Val, 'valiantly' keeping the FM red lippie theme going

I also tried Sybarite by Cloon Keen Atelier - the Ateliers were out in force yesterday, as you can tell - but couldn't place the scent and it registered as neither overtly pleasant or otherwise.  A little bit like YSL Nu EDT, if I had to think of any remote point of comparison.  Major props for the name though - I love the word 'sybarite' in all its variants. Maybe I should have tried it on skin, as the composition sounds much more congenial than I remember it smelling.  The top notes of incense and bergamot may not have worked for me, though.

Michael and Freddie at Les Senteurs

Then Freddie drew my attention to Mona di Orio's Eau Absolue, an unusual citrus and honey scent with an animalic base.  It grabbed my attention much more, even on card, and we both agreed that this was a treatment of honey that was more to our liking than Viktoria Minya's Hedonist.  Portia had meanwhile ensconced herself at the back of the shop, looking rather grandee-like amongst the rococo furniture and gilt mirrors.  As well as describing me as glamorous, he told Tara she had great legs, prompting me to call him a 'caution', prompting me in turn to explain what this peculiarly British term means.  I just looked it up and it is classified as 'informal' and 'dated', with a meaning of 'amusing' and 'surprising'.  Well, Portia's sense of humour is certainly both of those! ;-)

Portia striking a pose, possibly involving the sniffing of a mobile phone

All too soon it was time to make tracks and catch my train back.  Thomas and Nigel set off for Euston with me, but we had to part company at the tube station when Nigel got his ticket stuck in the lining of his jacket. ;-)  Before I knew it I was speeding north and back to normal life - the excitement of the day's events had assumed an almost dreamlike quality.  Though the two cookies Val had given me - which didn't make it past Watford Junction - said otherwise...

Painting The Town Red With Katie Puckrik - Part 1: Another Lippie Epiphany

Regular readers - or should I refer to you as irregular readers, as my posting frequency has been decidedly erratic since the house move - may recall that for a long time now I have been on a quest to find Holy Grail lipsticks in a variety of shades. I think I found the perfect nude-browny-pink in Burberry Nude Rose, and the perfect nude-and-not-too-vivid-or-trashy-pink in Dior Pisanelle Pink. However, the perfect red (or even a half-decent red that doesn't make me look like a clown, a hooker or Cruella de Ville) continued to elude me. Back in September, Katie Puckrik, a bit of a make up guru on the quiet, took up the discarded gauntlet / cudgels? on my behalf, and on the occasion of one of our whistlestop meetings at a cafe near Euston, her first act was to upend her handbag and spill a good dozen red lipsticks and lip glosses onto the table. (I wish I had taken a photograph of that!)

As a direct outcome of that testing session (on skin and on Katie in what I can best describe as the lipstick equivalent of a series of lightning costume changes), I went home and bought Revlon Sizzle Lip Gloss and Revlon Lip Butter in Candy Apple. Despite their being on Katie's shortlist of possible contenders for me, I couldn't quite believe in them myself. For I have a real mental block about red lipstick suiting me, partly based on my sallow colouring, but also to do with the relative thinness of my lips compared to Katie's pillowy pout. Somewhere I have taken on board the notion that red lipstick can be unflattering on mature skin. Sharon Stone gives the lie to that supposed "rule" here, but then I am not Sharon Stone, just her age.

KATIE, LOOKING EFFORTLESSLY GLAMOROUS IN A BEANIE

And then at the end of November, I was down in London again, and Katie kindly took me on a make up sampling spree in Selfridges before we headed off for dinner and the evening's (partly unscheduled) entertainment, of which more in Part 2. Sniffing wasn't so much on the agenda, as we had done a bit of that at Les Senteurs where we met up, but we did swing by the Dior display specifically so I could try Grand Bal. I am currently on a jasmine hunt for my Scandal- and Fracas-loving friend Sharon. She is a born-again tuberose lover, who is looking to branch out into other heady white soliflores, of which jasmine seemed as good an example as any. Anyway, I thought Grand Bal very pretty, like a quieter version of By Kilian Love & Tears, maybe. It was of necessity just a fleeting impression, because the sales assistant had no samples to give away. This surprised me, as Dior had always been pretty good bet for doling out those little 4ml pots in the past - hey, between me and Tara, who assiduously scored them on my behalf every time she was up the West End, I must have at least four of New Look alone!

No, the main objective of our dive into Selfridges was to slay this red lippie lemming of mine once and for all, and after a quick scope of every high end beauty counter from Yves St Laurent and Tom Ford to Benefit and Illamasqua, we narrowed the choices to Laura Mercier Crimson Tint and an Armani Sheer Red lipstick, the name of which escapes me. I plumped for the Laura Mercier in the end a) because Katie swore black, blue, white and red that it suited me, b) because it was cheaper than the Armani - I never actually got as far as inquiring, but you just know that it had to be! - and c) because my natural dark pink lip tone kept dragging the Armani red back to pinky-neutral YLBB territory. This was as unhelpful as looking foolishly scarlet, especially at that price, whatever it may have been.

ME WEARING LAURA MERCIER CRIMSON TINT, WHICH LOOKS STRANGELY HOT PINK IN THIS PHOTO

Some weeks have passed, and it is dawning on me that if I can carry off the Laura Mercier, I must have suited the other lipsticks all along, which are in similar vein really. The Revlon Sizzle is perhaps a slightly warmer, more orange-y red, while the Candy Apple is in the same sheer mid-red territory as the Laura Mercier. Crucially not too blue on my olive skin. So the upshot of all of this is that I have been wearing overtly red lipstick in public on a number of occasions since my outing with Katie. Nobody has screamed and recoiled in horror, not a single small child has pointed at me and sniggered, and no one has refused to serve me in a shop. This Christmas I may finally have overcome my irrational hang up about red lippie after all, just in time to accessorise the holly.

ME WEARING REVLON SIZZLE LIP GLOSS, WHICH LOOKS NEAR AS DAMMIT THE SAME STRANGE HOT PINK AS ABOVE, BUT REALLY ISN'T

NB Bonus points to anyone who spots Bloody Frida's pennants in the background!

Coming up in Part 2: The press night of The Card Shark Show, and an entertaining detour en route.


Photo of Dior perfume counter from speirsandmajor.com, other photos my own