Eau d'Italie
GRAINE DE JOIE
What a suprise--Graine de Joie is incredibly pretty. A fruity-floral that is beautifully done. It's interesting how the tangy pomegranate seamlessly segues into a very realistic, fresh bouquet of freesia. Freesia is a note that rarely rings true to the flower, but this is about as realalistic of a freesia as I have ever smelled.
Graine de Joie smells like the most amazing shampoo at first. Clean, fresh, bright, just a tad fruity--but not chemical.
As soon as you see "praline" in the notes, you might expect it to go into gourmand territory. But is is never truly gourmand at any point. For the first few hours, you know the praline is there, but it's subtle. It anchors the fragrance and provides some substance, some heft, to it. Praline also prevents the notes from becoming too screechy and sour. The interplay between all of the notes is quite a beautiful balancing act.
At times, it conjures the holidays because the tangy pomegranate could pass for cranberry. Mixed with praline, it reminds me of a warm and cozy holiday party, like when you walk into a home, and the oven has been on for hours, and there is a sweet scent in the air (pies, sweet potatoes...)
Several hours into wear is when the fruit and florals fade significantly. What remains on my skin smells like fruity chocolate, as though I took a red currant truffle and rubbed it into my wrist. At that point it's almost gone from my skin and time to reapply, so if gourmands aren't "your thing," you need not worry as Graine de Joie remains firmly in the fruity-floral category, and it's truly one of the nicest in that genre.
What a suprise--Graine de Joie is incredibly pretty. A fruity-floral that is beautifully done. It's interesting how the tangy pomegranate seamlessly segues into a very realistic, fresh bouquet of freesia. Freesia is a note that rarely rings true to the flower, but this is about as realalistic of a freesia as I have ever smelled.
Graine de Joie smells like the most amazing shampoo at first. Clean, fresh, bright, just a tad fruity--but not chemical.
As soon as you see "praline" in the notes, you might expect it to go into gourmand territory. But is is never truly gourmand at any point. For the first few hours, you know the praline is there, but it's subtle. It anchors the fragrance and provides some substance, some heft, to it. Praline also prevents the notes from becoming too screechy and sour. The interplay between all of the notes is quite a beautiful balancing act.
At times, it conjures the holidays because the tangy pomegranate could pass for cranberry. Mixed with praline, it reminds me of a warm and cozy holiday party, like when you walk into a home, and the oven has been on for hours, and there is a sweet scent in the air (pies, sweet potatoes...)
Several hours into wear is when the fruit and florals fade significantly. What remains on my skin smells like fruity chocolate, as though I took a red currant truffle and rubbed it into my wrist. At that point it's almost gone from my skin and time to reapply, so if gourmands aren't "your thing," you need not worry as Graine de Joie remains firmly in the fruity-floral category, and it's truly one of the nicest in that genre.
MORN TO DUSK
Morn to Dusk initially strikes me as a delicious sugary vanilla. Have you ever eaten a good danish pastry with a very thin layer of icing on it such that the icing crunches when you sink your teeth into it? Morn to Dusk smells like that kind of icing infused with vanilla beans. I can't get enough of it! The scent is sweet, but it is not thick, creamy, nor cloying as vanilla can be. I am tempted to call it sheer. The perfume contains a distinct, bright, juicy note of bergamot and just a trace of an elusive and delicate floral that is so faint as to be nearly imperceptible, but it gives the fragrance a certain elegance that elevates it from pastry to perfume.
The house advertises Morn to Dusk as "the Italian way to do vanilla", and I totally agree. I keep imagining this perfume on a handsome Italian man wearing a linen suit, walking along a Positano beach at sunset while licking his gelato di riso.
Hmmm...the more I think about it, the more I realize that I didn't just make this up this scene by myself. I have seen it before in the form of Raoul Bova in Under the Tuscan Sun.
Dawn to Dusk is a vanilla perfume that works well all year long. It is not cloying, so it should work well in the warmer months, and it is also an easy choice in cooler months when the air is still a little crisp and the flowers are in bloom.
Dawn to Dusk is linear on my skin. I never lose the strong note of bergamot (the perfume lasts about 5 hours before I feel the urge to touch up). While it is rare that I enjoy a perfume in which the citric top notes never dissipate, I actually love it here. It is perfectly juicy without causing the perfume to smell sour. I have been bored with vanilla perfumes for some time now, but I have been craving this perfume daily since I first smelled it.
Sillage begins fairly strong, and it becomes a skin scent after 30 minutes or so. Years ago, I used to love monstrous sillage. These days, not so much. I don't want my perfumes to announce my presence in a room, but I do enjoy it when I reach for something, or I move suddenly, and I catch the scent radiating from my pulse points. That is what I get with Dawn to Dusk.
At the end of the day, I think this is a very pleasing and uncommon take on vanilla. Love it!
-------------------
Update: It's been months since I wrote this, and I just found out that the creators of this perfume house are based in Positano. I am amazed that I thought of a Positano beach when smelling it!
Morn to Dusk initially strikes me as a delicious sugary vanilla. Have you ever eaten a good danish pastry with a very thin layer of icing on it such that the icing crunches when you sink your teeth into it? Morn to Dusk smells like that kind of icing infused with vanilla beans. I can't get enough of it! The scent is sweet, but it is not thick, creamy, nor cloying as vanilla can be. I am tempted to call it sheer. The perfume contains a distinct, bright, juicy note of bergamot and just a trace of an elusive and delicate floral that is so faint as to be nearly imperceptible, but it gives the fragrance a certain elegance that elevates it from pastry to perfume.
The house advertises Morn to Dusk as "the Italian way to do vanilla", and I totally agree. I keep imagining this perfume on a handsome Italian man wearing a linen suit, walking along a Positano beach at sunset while licking his gelato di riso.
Hmmm...the more I think about it, the more I realize that I didn't just make this up this scene by myself. I have seen it before in the form of Raoul Bova in Under the Tuscan Sun.
Dawn to Dusk is a vanilla perfume that works well all year long. It is not cloying, so it should work well in the warmer months, and it is also an easy choice in cooler months when the air is still a little crisp and the flowers are in bloom.
Dawn to Dusk is linear on my skin. I never lose the strong note of bergamot (the perfume lasts about 5 hours before I feel the urge to touch up). While it is rare that I enjoy a perfume in which the citric top notes never dissipate, I actually love it here. It is perfectly juicy without causing the perfume to smell sour. I have been bored with vanilla perfumes for some time now, but I have been craving this perfume daily since I first smelled it.
Sillage begins fairly strong, and it becomes a skin scent after 30 minutes or so. Years ago, I used to love monstrous sillage. These days, not so much. I don't want my perfumes to announce my presence in a room, but I do enjoy it when I reach for something, or I move suddenly, and I catch the scent radiating from my pulse points. That is what I get with Dawn to Dusk.
At the end of the day, I think this is a very pleasing and uncommon take on vanilla. Love it!
-------------------
Update: It's been months since I wrote this, and I just found out that the creators of this perfume house are based in Positano. I am amazed that I thought of a Positano beach when smelling it!
