Neroli is the essential oil of the orange blossom drawn using steam distillation from the bitter orange tree. Orange blossom also comes from the bitter orange tree, from the same blossom, but via enfleurage, which is the application of fat solids to pull out fragrance compounds from an item. Petitgrain is from the same tree but is made from steam distillation of the twigs and leaves. (Thanks Jessica Murphy from NST and Perfume Professor for that info. Also shout-out to Brooklyn Brainery because even when I look through the list of classes in their email newsletter like “I am not free for ANY of this” I’m still like “what is shibori even though” and “maybe I should start wool-working and also make a puff representation of my dog.”)
You’re so lame mom, please don’t.
I’m not the biggest fan of neroli. Most of the purer forms of it remind me too much of Froot Loops and I just don’t have any fun memories that would make the smell of neroli as significant to me as it is unique. During sniff-tests I’m usually standing next to neroli lovers, lovers of the Italian coastline, lovers of the Spanish coastline who are smiling and talking about their grandparents and their past trips and trips they want to take and saying absolutely nothing, smiling with them, appreciating the fragrance as objectively as I can, and swallowing down cereal jokes until that part of the conversation is over.
Mr. Chokkattu, being the wonderful, amazing, and very attractive young man he is, gave me a bottle of Penhaligon’s Equinox Bloom for our one year anniversary even though he should have saved his money now that he has to pay rent, gas, and internet and left the frivolous spending to the girl who can save a little under half her tiny paycheck and still have enough to eat hipster-priced foods and ask for tea instead of water.
Photo and formatting credit to Mr. Chokkattu
The first box of choices didn’t impress me a ton but I got an e-mail about their Spring 2016 line and there was a pair in an ad on Facebook that I felt the need to have so…a second box it is! Photo credit to Mr. Chokkattu, bonus credit goes to my new Yesstyle convertible scarf.
A picture Mr. Chokkattu took of me while we were on a kayak.
This will be my last post explicitly about Iceland!
So we all know now that I adored the country of Iceland, and I want to go back some day really, really badly, with maybe a job long enough to support me for a few months or just some more cash in my pocket. And that the scenery is beautiful and the landscape breathtaking, etc. But I have to share some of the specifics I jotted down. Some of them are important, some of them are surprising, some are less about Iceland and more about trips in general, and some are pretty stupid but whatever they seemed important enough to write down at the time. This list is a little long, so let’s get started:
This will be quick because our day’s already started, but I just wanted to finally share some of the things I saw Thursday now that I have some decent Wifi. I don’t have a chance to edit, so you’ll see my awkward photography skills in all their raw glory (check out Mr. Chokkattu’s blog for better pictures)! Names and everything should show up in the captions, I hope you all enjoy!
And for my scented folk; I’ve been wearing Annick Goutal’s Eau de Camille this entire time. Light, crisp, beautiful, and slightly sweet; just the thing to counteract the Seltun sulfur field and blend in with the grassy meadows and stony fields around us! Also, there’s a lot of lavender in Iceland, so while you’re walking through the fields, you’ll randomly get hits of sweet and spicy real lavender. It’s gorgeous.
Onto the pictures!
Before I begin, I will say that these are probably my current favorite fragrances, and thank you Twisted Lily for introducing me to Apoketer Tepe (though I wish I could stroll into Harlem and talk to the source, but perhaps that’s an ambition for another day) Apoketer Tepe’s After the Flood is a new darling, but I have no idea what took me so long to write about L’Artisan’s Tea for Two. They remind me of the best quiet emotions of spring and autumn. Having one on each wrist brings me some odd solace that only makes sense if you’re as obsessed as I am about the physical portrayals of transitions as a literary motif.
Annick Goutal Eau de Camille
- Wet: wet grass, dandelion, honeysuckle, chamomile
- Dry: honeysuckle, chamomile, dandelion, grass with roots