Tag Archives: Givenchy Amarige

Welcome to Mood Scent Four: First Love Perfumes!

The Good Old Days- photo from youbeauty.com

Do you remember your first love? I’m talking about perfume of course, not Morten Harket or Patrick Swayze (Just me? Surely not!).

Fragrance has been proven to give your memory a powerful jolt  and one sniff of these first loves and I can tell you what I was wearing, where I was going and what I was doing as far back as the late eighties.

Welcome to Mood Scent 4!

MoodScent 4 is a blogging collaboration in which four perfume bloggers from four different countries write on the same theme. My colleagues are meganinsaintemaxime, Tara from ABottled Rose, and Esperanza from L’Esperessence.  Follow the links to find out what their first loves were ( except dear esperanza, who has sadly had to sit this one out. Get well soon!).  Here are mine. Do  any of them match yours?

 

Avon Pretty Peach

The very first fragrance I ever owned was Avon Pretty Peach.  I had a little splash bottle, and splash I did. I must only have been around six or seven years old, but I thought I was the kitten’s mittens smelling of fresh peaches and wearing my very own perfume.  Check out the gorgeous packaging. Who could resist?  Not me!

Avon Eau Givree

In my early teens, it was another Avon fragrance that scented several formative years of uncertainty, crushes and trying to imagine a future where we all wore silver space suits. Space 1999 was on the telly and it felt utterly possible, folks.

Avon had a beautiful green hesperide scent out around this time that was called Eau Givree. It had a frosted pale green bottle, a black lid and silver lettering.  Long since discontinued, my retrospective nose would guess that it was full of grapefruit, bergamot and lemon. Divine in summer!

The Good Old Days- photo from youbeauty.com

The Body Shop White Musk

Surely the scent of every High Street and college in the 1980s, along with the ubiquitous Dewberry! I  remember every bus in Exeter smelling of Dewberry around this time. Personally, I was a Body Shop White Musk girl, and to this day I am never without a bottle. I much prefer the oil to any of the sprays, and find a little goes a long way, not to mention the nostalgia it evokes in men my age!

LouLou. Oui? C’est Moi.

Once I hit seventeen, Cacharel LouLou was invented and I would wear half a bottle at a time (sorry train passengers!) and replace it as casually as if it were shampoo. I still love that plummy aniseed tuberose and the wonderful art deco bottle.

Givenchy Amarige

Towards the end of my LouLou era (I’ve still got a bottle), I experimented with high street launches of thee early nineties and enjoyed a whole summer smelling of Givenchy Amarige.  With its massive sillage, its huge bouquets of jasmine and tuberose, and that soapy green tobacco accord, Amarige still offers much to enjoy, although I  find today’s version a little thinner than the old cloying blousy days of it.

Chanel Cristalle

Once my experimental phase was over, I settled down with Chanel Cristalle from the age of 21 until I was 36. After that I entered a period of olfactory promiscuity and a blog was born. These days? I have a wandering eye and Pretty Peach and Eau Givree have long since gone, along with the bespectacled daydreamer who wore them.

How about you?

What were your first perfume loves? Do you still wear them? Or have they long gone now? I’d love to know.

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A Trio of Worth: Miss Worth

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Like Miss Balmain and Miss Dior, Miss Worth has a certain ring to it. It evokes images of a single gal about town, all independence and confidence and style.  Launched much later than its cohorts, Miss Worth was created in 1977. The bottle I have in front of me is very a la mode for that era. A chunky bottle and a plastic lid.

Miss Worth has 30 notes, and although I recoiled when I saw the dreaded Peach, I calmed down when I realised there is no Peach in this (it’s listed but I could not detect it).  In fact my very first off the cuff, unedited impression of this was “ budget Amarige”.  If you reformulated Amarige ten times, reducing the budget on each occasion, this is what you get. There is Jasmine and Tuberose, just like Amarige. There is Ylang and Orange Blossom, and a woody base, just like Amarige. However, there is also a shrillness and a lack of longevity, unlike Amarige. It’s not bad, but since I own Amarige, it cannot  quite compare.  It’s like fake pearls next to the real thing.  They both look classy until the paint peels off the  imposter.

Where Amarige stays nuclear for hours, Miss Worth throws in the towel within the hour and goes home, knowing her richer sister will get the guy.

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Givenchy Amarige: Jasmine via Megaphone

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Twenty years ago, I bought my first bottle of Givenchy Amarige and didn’t bother using it sparingly. Loud, proud, and distinctive, Amarige is instantly recognisable.

It claims that “  It is so opulent and floral that it seems like its composition includes all the beautiful flowers that exist in the world.”

amarige

Launched in 1991 by our old friend Dominique Ropion, I was 21 when I bought my first, second and third bottles. There followed a hiatus in my love affair with Amarige, possibly because I met and fell in love with another fragrance, the quieter, greener Chanel Cristalle, to whom I was faithful for many years.

Recently, on my holiday sojourn (or staycation since I stayed in the UK and holidayed on the coast), I found Amarige in a sale for only 22GBP and Oops I bought it. The memories came rushing back. However, the 21 year old me, is very different to the me of today (although naturally we look the same age *cough*).

And it is.

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With more notes than an opera, Amarige has everything you could imagine:  Neroli, Mimosa, Jasmine, Gardenia, Yellow Flowers, Oranges, Peaches (thankfully light), Roses, Tuberose, Carnation, Woods, Amber, Vanilla, Cedar, Violet…you name it, it’s in there.  In the wrong hands, this could be a generic mess, but Dominique Ropion has fiddled with the dials until everything is just at the right volume. My youthful self  was right on one point, it certainly does smell more expensive than it is. Luca Turin nearly gave it four stars, despite disliking it.  In fact, in Perfumes The Guide he states “ If you are reading this because it is your darling fragrance, please wear it at home exclusively, and tape the windows shut.”

He calls this a “soapy-green tobacco-tuberose”. I really don’t know where to categorize it on my dressing table (my bottles stand in groups).  Despite the valid criticisms of it, I can’t help liking it, and can’t stop sniffing my wrists today as it whooshes me back to the early Nineties.

Divisive ain’t the word. There is an Amarige review on Fragrantica that makes me chuckle every time, It is written by a man whose ex girlfriend practically marinated herself in it to the maximum degree, despite his pleas to stop.  Dear crazykoffee you did give me a laugh as well as giving us all a sobering lesson on how NOT to use perfume! It is a brilliantly expressed review  and is a good balance to my gushing.

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Amarige is a distinct classic, with Tuberose and Jasmine rooted in a deep and redolent base. The Yellow flower notes remind me a little of Chloe Narcisse, a fragrance only suitable for bees.  At the same time it’s playful and sweet, without being candy-sugary. It beds down into a floral woodiness, and lasts for ages, even as an EDT. I can’t help liking it, but I promise never to wear it over breakfast.

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