It seems like every publication out there has a perfume review column now—The NY Times, The Topeka Booger, numberless zines—that it's about time WFMU had one. And if it already does, it could stand another. So I, Ed Shepp, senior perfumer for the Swedish American Futurimagineering Institut, am stepping up to provide one. And probably just ONE, since I'm very busy with my bringing lazy back and all you know. Anyway, let's get started, and as a once-in-a-lifetime gesture of kindness, I'll be uncharacteristically brief.
Let's review some stanky stuff.
http://www.dialformen.com/d4m/dfm.html] They have another product in the line called Dial Magnetic, which they bill as "attraction enhancing body wash." That's some slogan, but I'm curious what one attracts with it—Bugs? Mold? Metal? People who believe in things like 'attraction enhancing body wash?') So that's what I did. After first smelling the bodywash, which was like a blast of cedar-on-steroids, I chose the subtler bar soap, which had a clear and predictable citrus character over the woods. My roommate with the reptile sense of smell remarked that it smelled "very manly," and I took that to mean she didn't like it. The 3D aspect of it is thus: 1) it cleans your skin, 2) it destroys odor (I thought the first two were the same) and 3) it defends against odor creeping up on you. The defense part is where it gets interesting: Obviously the soap has an antibacterial agent, triclocarban. According to Wikipedia, this chemical is thought to be an endocrine disruptor, but not in the usual make-everything-female way—supposedly this chemical enhances testosterone, at least in rats. So maybe there's more reason for marketing this as "men's soap" than just the smell! Final verdict after testing: it's an inoffensive soap in the shower, its scent doesn't linger (even though the soap leaves a filmy finish), and at the end of the day I didn't stink. But then, I'm not homeless, so of course I didn't stink. So if you want to 1) not stink, 2) do your part to contribute to germ resistance and 3) make a man out of your pet rat, go with the 3D.
http://www.leffingwell.com/Coumarin%20-%20the%20real%20story%20update2.pdf] —sweet-nutty-vanillic-herbal like hay or autumn sunlight. Of course, you expect that typical fabric softener smell as well, but you hope the almond will glimmer through. It doesn't. This smells like any other fabric softener, if maybe less strident. Admittedly, when I have my nosed buried in the box (!) I feel like I get an almond note, but I'm convinced that's an illusion created by the color and imagery from the box. It's a shame, too, because almondy-coumarinic dryer sheets would be fantastisk for two reasons: one, they would just smell good and harmonize well with other personal scents. And two, they would be particularly useful for putting in your shoes. My thinking here is that almond-cream, unlike more typical fabric softener scents, would blend strategically well with "cheesy feet" smell. Mix "mountain fresh" with that and you get "stinky laundry"; mix almond-cream and you get crème anglaise. Or at least a highfalutin French-type cheese. Alas, the world will have to wait for dryer sheets that transform your feet into custardy pastries. Once again I realize that I was born too soon.
Lastly, mention should be made of Febreze NOTICEables: Moroccan Bazaar: Ginger & Nutmeg. I'm referring here to the plug-in formulation with two chambers containing different fragrances that alternate in an attempt to cheat nose fatigue. Don't plug this one in, however; more on that inna minnut. Let's talk about the aromas of the individual chambers. First, the nutmeg: nothing to scent blog about. It's like Bath and Body Works' Creamy Nutmeg with 2% milk instead of heavy cream. The ginger chamber is where the magic happens. Usually "ginger" in air freshenerese means "akin to gingerbread." When it doesn't, it refers to the sharp, almost lemony smell of ginger root. In this product ginger attempts an entirely new definition. The scent, whatever it's intended (or not) to mimic in nature, smells exceptionally good, though not like any ginger I know. There's something about it that I can only describe as cherry Slurpee. Not cherry, but cherry Slurpee. Kind of like how some floral scents have a component that smells like Smarteez candy. Surely there's more to the fragrance, but I find the Slurpee note so pleasant that I focus only on it. You may be wondering how to use it to get the ginger scent alone, especially without plugging it in. Simple: open the top for the ginger chamber (it's obvious which one it is when you smell it), turn it upside down and allow a few drops of the oil to fall on a tissue or piece of cloth. Do not use a cherished relative—that could be dangerous. Place the tissue in the middle of the room. The oil is powerful and persistent; its smell will fill the room and linger. Now, this may seem like a janky way to use air freshener, but remember, I'm from Florida. Moreover, when your bathtub lies just a thin door away from a litter box, you need to think creatively with your odor management.
Well that's this installment of Scent Notes for the Downtrodden. I hope you've enjoyed it; if you haven't, then you can go sit on a durian.
All my love,