Burning the end at both candles: Boujee Bougies Gilt and Elemis Regency Library - a "cold throw" mini-review, and coming up for air

This Christmas was a marked improvement on last year, when the months of trapped nerve pain in my neck managed to segue seamlessly into Covid. This year (apart from an alleged shadow on the lung, of which more anon) I was in much better shape, and de-stressed the big day by opting for a high welfare chicken rather than a turkey, not even one in a conveniently legless and bacon-draped format. I had to traipse round four supermarkets, mind, to find a chicken that had had anything remotely approaching a reasonable life, which was in itself a bit stressful. Also, the only one I could find in the end fed 7-8, and there were only three of us for dinner, including a vegetarian. Looking back, I would still declare the meal to have been a resounding success, because everything came together on time, notwithstanding the usual musical-baking-tins-on-oven-shelves malarkey; my perennially teetotal elderly friend downed two Snowballs, and the only thing I burnt was my hand. The day was additionally bookended by breakfast and supper at a friend's round the corner, and midnight saw me bin diving for lobster in the alley behind her house. With the owner's permission I should add, as she had found it texturally disappointing and overly labour-intensive, which is fair enough.

Then I don't know about you, but I always buy myself a clutch of small presents and put them unwrapped under the tree, as a sort of self-gifting comfort blanket, I suppose. (Did I say "gifting"?!? Feel free to take me out and shoot me, as I swore I never would never stoop to using the cringe-making verbified form.) This year my purchases included some socks, a box of Turkish Delight, which somehow managed to become two, a Thermos flask to replace the one I foolishly put soup in that smelt strongly of onions, several bars of sandalwood soap, a pre-owned pocket Filofax, an elephant key ring, and two candles. I had thought of buying a 30ml travel spray of Boujee Bougies Gilded on a blind basis (another shooting offence, as we all know!), but decided on balance that that was too risky, and defaulted to the safety of the smaller candle instead - a 60ml baby one in Gilt. I have only just caught up with the fact that the candle and perfume have different yet confusingly similar names, hehe, and Pia from Boujee Bougies kindly pointed out the distinction: 

"In Gilded perfume, the drydown smells similar to the hot throw of the candle. The top note of the perfume (of aldehydes and saffron) might seem startlingly different. Spice / aldehydes / incense / amber is the perfume."

So now I want to know what a hot throw is, and whether it is a point on the trajectory of a burning candle that you might easily miss, like an eclipse, or a meteor shower?

Aha, here we go...;)

"Hot throw: The term used to describe the strength of fragrance while a candle is burning. This evaluation is typically done after the candle has been burning for at least two hours but no more than four. Cold throw: In contrast, describes the strength of fragrance before a candle has been burned for the first time."

So all those times I have sniffed candles in T K Maxx, I have been smelling their cold throws!

Speaking of T K Maxx, that is where I bought the Elemis Regency Library candle. It retails at £42, but I got it for £19.99 as it was boxless. Not only that, but the label on the top was misspelt - the three fragrance notes were listed as Cade, Cedarwood and Sandlewood. My gain. So while the Elemis candle - or should that be candal?? - is nearly four times as big as the Boujee Bougies one, the Gilt mini does smell very refined and high end, or high altar indeed, for its scent is distinctly ecclesiastical. Its cold throw is so mesmerising in fact that I can't see how its hot one could top it. The Elemis is also a cut above most of the candles I sampled in T K Maxx - much as its spa body products are for that matter - but it is a "colder" scent, partly due I sense to its cooler blue label compared to the golden livery of the Gilt.

Now if I were a proper reviewer I would light them both and report back, but I can't bring myself to do that yet - I have other candles on the go I feel I should finish first, not least my Roja Dove one from years ago that I scored (rather aptly!) in some kind of fire sale. 

So instead I will reprise a selection of the intriguing things I learnt about candle usage from a previous purchase of Aldi's Jo Malone dupes - full post here:

"First and foremost, we are advised: "WARNING: CANDLES CAN CAUSE FIRES". Crikey, I would never have considered that. But that is just the start of it...We are also told:

"May produce an allergic reaction"

"Harmful to aquatic life with long lasting effects"

"Avoid release to the environment"

But hold on, how does one go about burning a candle in the first place without releasing its smoke / emissions to the 'environment' of one's living room? Or does the advice relate to the great outdoors? Are they saying it is okay to gas yourself and your goldfish quietly in the comfort and fragrant ambiance of your own home, but not to allow noxious particles to escape in your street for passers by to inhale? It's a conundrum. Interestingly, Red Roses is NOT deemed harmful to aquatic life. I just toss that titbit out there in case you were considering investing in a three pack and splitting it with friends. Give the fish owners the rose one, that would be the smart move."

The warning on the box of Gilt is along similar lines in terms of allergies, risk to fish and to the environment. I daresay it would be on the Regency Library candle too if it had a box. I learnt on the Gilt packaging that you should burn a candle all the way to the edge, from between two to four hours. When you think of all the Christmas house parties taking place up and down the land, how many hosts -especially after necking a few too many glasses of Cava and mushroom vol-au-vents - remember to keep a note of their candle burning hours? And five years on from that post I quoted, I have still not got to grips with wick trimming, snuffing, or the proper placement of "hot bottoms".

Which leads me lastly onto the notion of burning things and lung care...At the end of November I was recalled for a routine chest X-Ray as part of the panel of investigative tests I am undergoing for Sjogren's Syndrome (or Sjogren's Disease, as it is more properly known now, and which should also have two dots over the "o"). The X-Ray purported to find a "ring shadow" on my lung, so I was sent to another hospital for a CT scan a fortnight later. The extremely harrowing parking situation at that hospital easily took several years off my life, never mind my putative pulmonary problems, and I missed the appointment by some margin; luckily the staff at the mobile scanning unit were able to squeeze me in within half an hour.

 From the time I was told about the shadow till the letter arrived saying that the second scan had shown "no concerning or untoward features" - a period of three weeks or so - I had ample time to look back on my relationship with lung irritants down the years...there's the open wood fire in my French house, which billows black smoke into the room like the cooling towers of a condemned power station; there's a smattering of passive smoking around mainly musician friends, there's my joss stick habit - I fear that I always stayed in the same room as the incense to enjoy it rather than stepping outside while it burned or keeping it next to an open window ;) - and my much more occasional use of scented candles. Could I really have done some mischief to my lungs, and if I had, how would I change my home fragrance behaviour "going forward"? I realised that I would find it hard to give up joss sticks in particular, and also candles now and again, because of the sense of calm and well-being they confer. As with so many things in life, something can be both beneficial and hazardous for health at the same time. I've also started to burn logs in the grate in the front room, which surely can't be ideal, but it feels so cosy - and warm!

So yes, moderation in all things is probably the best policy, and you can't go through life being scared of every possible risk to health or you would go mad. Just as I burnt the candle at both ends socially over Christmas, and didn't once think of the Covid risk from gatherings, as I might once have done. Yes, life is for living,and fragrance in all its forms is very much part of that...

How Do You Make Tom Ford Santal Blush? Slap On A Bit Of Jasmin Rouge...!

Blink and you miss it.

You know how it is when people call you over to see a beautiful sunset (in this case, the view from my hotel room in Italy - the one with the rectangular toilet!), and by the time you get there the egg yolk orb of the sun is just dipping below the horizon, suffusing the sky with a delicate pink, which soon fades to grey? Well, I am sorry to say that that appears to be the problem with Tom Ford's new release, Santal Blush, of which I had the highest hopes, not least because of its evocative name. The choice of the French word "santal" is always a good start: two syllables are easier on the ear than the three in "sandalwood". Follow that with a wistful descriptor like "blush" and you've got a scent name dream team...

Then "Blush" is in fact the shade of wool I am knitting a cardigan with for a fumehead friend's baby; it also makes me think of pastel pink Cadbury's mini-eggs - and it is of course the colour of the scent itself! Hmm, thinking about that pink juice, you could be forgiven for mistaking Santal Blush for a high class Zinfandel - that's until you tried an experimental spritz down the old hatch. Which, after my incident with the 2.5ml glass atomiser, I wouldn't recommend.

So how does Santal Blush smell exactly and what's with the sunset analogy?

Notes: ylang ylang, cumin, cinnamon bark, carrot seed, jasmine, rose, cedarwood, Australian sandalwood, oud, musk and benzoin.

Okay, so for a full fifteen minutes, Santal Blush lived up to my expectations. The opening is woody in a faintly raw, packing-case-splinter kind of way, which is doubtless due to the cedar wood, which I always find more rufty tufty than the smooth operating sandalwood with which it is paired. I get a slight dusting of spice and something that I would characterise as vaguely "rosy". Thanks to my synaesthetic training at the Le Labo workship earlier this year, I can most definitely declare this smell to be pink!

On reflection, it's a bit like FM Portrait of a Lady for wimps. And it turns out there is also oud in there, though goodness knows the composition doesn't need any more types of wood - even the cinnamon is described as "bark"...; - ) The beleaguered rose note is woefully lacking in staying power and in no time at all it is like that disappearing sunset or some poor consumptive in a Bronte novel, fading away before your very nostrils.

I could also liken it to those "hint of" fruit drinks that are 99.3% carbonated water, but declare pomegranate and blueberry prominently on the label, which is - annoyingly - perfectly legal. I know, because I challenged Schweppes on this very point. But at least with those kind of drinks you can taste the ingredients in question at all times. In Santal Blush - in addition to this issue of the vanishing rose note - if ylang-ylang (a favourite note of mine) and jasmine did show up, I swear they were hiding behind a tree (and there's enough to chose from).

Which is such a shame, because in terms of its texture, once it gets going Santal Blush is as smooth as the drydown of Violet Blonde, if not smoother. And to achieve that whilst using not one but three woody notes, which can so easily veer into scratchiness in my experience, is quite masterly on the part of Yann Vasnier, the nose behind both fragrances.

Yes, I am afraid that apart from the first quarter of an hour, Santal Blush is merely a milky woody bass line, in need of a rosy melody. As well as being a bit like a pared down version of Portrait of a Lady, it also strikes me as a buffed up, sanded down version of Diptyque's Tam Dao (my original "trapped in a tea chest" scent), with a side order of cream.

Now I have gone on record many times as saying that no perfume could be too minimalist to appeal to me. "Send all your bland monotone scents in my direction", I have commented on blogs, "I'll give 'em a loving home." I am now going to have to eat my words, because there simply isn't enough going on with Santal Blush for me: the note pyramid is too bottom heavy, the rose too elusive and evanescent.

I am aware that it may well be my skin which is at fault, for I have a hunch that it amplifies wood notes to the exclusion of all else, especially cedar. In complete contrast, Octavian of 1000 Fragrances raves about Santal Blush, and his nose picks out all sorts of nuances and activity. I could easily believe that it is a combination of wayward skin and amateurish nose that prevents me from discerning the complexity of this fragrance, but that is just the way it goes!

So...in summary then, top marks for a flawlessly smooth foundation, but in my view Santal Blush seriously needs some colour in its cheeks to mitigate its woody pallor - now where's my pot of Bourjois?




Photo of Santal Blush from coolspotters.com, photo of Blush Eco Baby wool from modernknitting.co.uk, photo of Zinfandel from corkingwines.com, photo of model from Bourjois.co.uk, photo of blusher from montpellier-beauty.co.uk, sunset photo my own.

Roger & Gallet Sandalwood Soap - For Suds That Smoulder...

Roger & Gallet is a well known brand of toiletries comprising perfumes, "fragrant water", solid and liquid soaps, body lotion, hand cream, shower and shaving gels, and scented candles. Ever since I was a child, back in the distant heyday of Bronnley lemon soap, Baededas bubble bath and Yardley talc, Roger & Gallet soaps exuded an air of luxury and were the ultimate aspirational gift. Today I would probably accord that status to small leather goods from Aspinal or a silver locket from Penhaligon's, however, I would still place Roger & Gallet solid soaps pretty high in the gift list pecking order.

Curiously, I don't feel the same about the other products in the range, least of all the perfumes. This may be due to the fact that they are extensively stocked in my local department store, which I regard as the kiss of death to all things fashionable and in good taste. To my mind, the other problem with the brand is that it has wide distribution in pharmacies, where it takes its chances alongside the depilatory creams, lip salve and dental floss.

Ah, I hear you say, but the perfumes in Boots also live cheek by jowl next to a motley assortment of corn plasters, Frizz-ease and cotton wool balls, so is the fragrance section of Boots also to be written off on account of its chemist-y contiguity? No indeed, for the perfume counter in Boots is big enough to square up to the rest of the store and its array of glamorous and not-so-glamorous medicaments and toiletry staples.

But the distribution of Roger & Gallet products through independent chemists troubles me for some reason, and undermines the credibility of its perfumes. Though not, crucially, that of the soaps...

Bois de Santal (Sandalwood) is my personal favourite. Many perfumistas are on a permanent quest to find the ultimate sandalwood fragrance. I believe I have found it in Damien Bash Lucifer No 3 - or I have until something better comes along - which I doubt it will. But for anyone still out there chasing their HGSS (Holy Grail Sandalwood Scent), there is a lot to be said for cutting your losses, aborting the quest - Damien Bash has discontinued its perfumes anyway - and sniffing this soap instead.

For Roger & Gallet is without question the ne plus ultra of sandalwood soaps - and I speak from a position of some authority, as we are a two brand sandalwood soap household, the other make being Taylor's of London. Taylor's is also round, and teasingly wrapped in that familiar ruched paper spiral, secured by a central circular label. Moreover it does smell somewhat of sandalwood - admittedly, more when it was new - for the scent seems to have faded in use.

Yes, the Roger & Gallet has the more robust sandalwood fragrance of the two. It is richer and more woody, incensey even, which makes the experience of pressing your nose to the paper almost meditative. You don't even need to take the paper off to get an uplifting lungful. And that way you can also savour the conspiratorial crackle of its wrapping. This is the Musc Khoublai Khan of the sandalwood soap scene. I almost feel like a member of a secret sect when I sniff it...

Now my special bond with this soap may be enhanced by associations with someone from my past. I don't wish to overplay this connection, because he also used another soap from the R & G range which didn't move me especially, from which I deduce that the primary appeal remains the sandalwood itself.

Mr Bonkers, meanwhile, has a much more matter of fact approach to soap, and has never to my knowledge cared for a specific soap fragrance, let alone been bowled over by its smoulder. His main requirement of a bar of soap is that it should be free of particulates (petals, lavender sprigs, poppy seeds and other "encrustacea"), not smell too "poncy" (frangipani, lily of the valley, magnolia, rose) or too "weird" (hemp, black pepper, tar, algae, olive oil, also anything dark and inherently sinister, not forgetting bile - see photo below), and most importantly that it should produce a good lather. I agree with him about the particulates, and my other two bêtes noires are strongly scented soaps of any kind, and ones that either crack, or conversely, turn to mush.

For although I may reserve the right to turn to mush emotionally when sniffing this transcendental rendition of the sandalwood note, it is imperative that the soap itself stays firm, right down to the last little sliver...Which this bar of Roger & Gallet has every chance of doing, since it has never been in contact with water, and only briefly came out of its handy plastic carrying case long enough for me to write this post.


Photo of Roger & Gallet soap from garden.co.uk, photo of a chemist from chemistanddruggist.co.uk, photo of Taylor's soap from the company's website, photo of gall soap from Wikimedia Commons.

Damien Bash Lucifer No 3 - One Helluva Great Sandalwood Scent

According to my blog stats, two posts which have attracted a disproportionate amount of hits in recent months have been the ones about Suddenly d'Or, the own label perfume from discount grocery chain Lidl, and about Jasper Conran Woman, a poor man's Cristalle which I believe deserves greater acclaim. What these two scents have in common that could explain their high "traffic" is the fact that they are relatively uncommon - or more exactly, that there are few reviews, if any, about them in the blogosphere.

So today I decided to write about another little known perfume which could probably do with a bit of PR - Damien Bash Lucifer No 3. I was tipped off about Lucifer No 3 by a Swedish perfumista friend, who was trawling The Perfumed Court for the ultimate sandalwood scent - when she came across Damien Bash, she decided to look no further...

I found a few reviews on Basenotes and MUA, a mini-review by Nathan Branch and - most interestingly - long reviews on TWO Polish blogs, of which more later.

Without further ado, here are the notes:

"Rose, jasmine, frankincense, black pepper, sandalwood, myrrh, labdanum, ylang ylang, and elemi."

Ylang ylang - I had no idea! Another one to add back in...

Now elemi is an ingredient I always have to look up. It is a fragrant resin with a honey-like consistency distilled from a tree native to the Philippines. Its smell is described as a cross between pine and lemon. I found a number of its aromatherapy uses for conditions such as bronchitis and excessive phlegm, but it was the industrial applications mentioned on Wisegeek.com that really caught my attention:

"The resin is mainly used in commercial lacquers and varnishes. Many boat caulks contain the resin as well. In addition, some inks also contain the resin. In China, it is used to make transparent paper."

I smell of boat caulks, how great is that? "Caulks" is as offbeat a term as Lucifer No 3 is a perfume...

So how does Lucifer No 3 smell exactly? Well, the first thing to say is that it is not as dark and sinister as the name suggests. It is about as dark as PG L'Ombre Fauve, which does have the word "shadow" in the title, so let's say we are talking some dappled shade but not pitch black darkness. And Satan doesn't put in an appearance at any stage of the scent's development.

The opening features a pronounced ylang ylang note, yet I managed to miss this entirely(!), perhaps because it is swaddled in a resinous cocoon. For me the opening salvo is generically "medicinal", as with L'Ombre Fauve and SIP Magazine Street. Gradually the frankincense, myrrh and sandalwood notes come to the fore, and it is this latter stage with which my friend was so smitten. Lucifer No 3 is a dreamy, meditative blend of incense and woods - creamy and almost vanillic rather than smoky or rasping - doubtless thanks to the balsamic quality of the resins. It is stronger than a skin scent, but the drydown is beautifully soft relative to the harsh opening.

Several of the few reviewers I found of Lucifer No 3 - mostly men, I infer - complain about the fleeting nature of this scent, but it has tremendous staying power on my skin.

I haven't smelt any of the others from this line, but I get the impression that No 3 is the most biddable.

And would you like to hear Mr Bonkers' thoughts on Lucifer No 3? Of course you would! Well, he declared it to be "the toilet cleaner they use (in the customer toilets) at the craft shop". And given that elemi has a piney fragrance, that is a pretty creditable effort on his part.

Now as mentioned earlier, there are comprehensive reviews of this scent on two Polish blogs: Profumo and Co W Nosie Kreci. I risked an automatic translation tool on the Profumo review and the result was predictably random - the comparison to Opium just about survives the unintentionally humorous mangling by the Google software:

"If I had Lucifer No. 3 compared to an odor, it would be very YSL Opium and its summer limitowanki."

After "caulks", "limitowanki" is the other verbal delight of the day! I own a bottle of Opium Fleur de Shanghai and that is a good analogy in terms of the overall vibe of the perfume, although I'd say No 3 is more incensey and less floral.

Further on, we read:

"Lucifer No. 3 with its aroma of cloves, smooth wood sandałowym ideal to wear for every occasion. Extremely addictive opiumopodobny smell nice golden glow surrounds the vector of spices."

"Opiumopodobny" means "Opium-like" according to the Free Dictionary, in case anyone was wondering if it was a Polish cousin of oppoponax. And yes, this scent is indeed extremely addictive, and you will want to spend the day with nose glued to wrist. If, after eight hours, you have a Devil of a job prising your nose off your wrist, you will understand just why elemi is so popular in caulking.
: - )