Because the Caldey Island Lavender wore off so quickly, I was able to get up this morning and try a new perfume right away without showering (yes, it’s summer, but I have an AC and am unemployed so I don’t have to shower till about an hour before my boyfriend gets out of work). I decided to try Hermes Brin de Reglisse, not remembering what it was supposed to smell like. I received three Hermessence samples, and I knew only that this was one of them.
When I first sprayed it on my wrists, I thought… “ew, what is this smell?” It smelled familiar but I couldn’t quite pinpoint it. I decided it smelled like curry and baked goods, like some kind of curry danish. Ew. After a few minutes this ugly smell faded into the all-consuming smell of pipe tobacco. At this point I looked up the perfume again, wondering what the hell was going on (curried pipe tobacco? Did I really choose this? Did they label it wrong?).
Lee over at Perfume Posse described Brin de Réglisse as “a series of diaphanous veils, one lifted or completely removed to reveal more fully the next transparent layer”, and that is perfectly apt; it doesn’t seem to follow the typical pyramid structure so much as it seems to change course entirely several times over the course of its development.
I wouldn’t describe this as a “series of diaphanous veils” (“diaphanous”? hardly) but more like going to an open-air market where each stall has a different scent. Luckily, by about a half hour in, I reached the lavender stall.
The lavender of this perfume is a deep, smoky, sultry lavender, like you’ve been dragged into lavender’s poorly lit basement to engage in some kind of sex scandal. Depending on how long it lasts on my skin and whether it goes through any more olfactory shape-shifts (I’ll update later tonight), this may be the one. I can stand a few minutes of preliminary shop-talk for a trip to the basement.
Although this perfume required a second application later in the day, it grew on me– and not only did it grow on me, it overtook me with its complexity and made me passionately desire it. It’s unaffordable, but may be a “special perfume” to purchase a larger sample of for special occasions (when I was younger, my “special occasion” perfume was Oscar de la Renta’s Oscar, inherited as a small amount left in my mother’s discarded bottle… maybe I should try that again, too).