Opus IX Amouage

Desirability: Full bottle

Source: pinterest

"But I, I took the sweet life and never knew I'd be bitter from the sweet

I spent my life exploring the subtle whoring that cost too much to be free

Hey lady, I've been to paradise, but I've never been to me"

 Charlene - I've Never Been To Me (lyrics stolen from MetroLyrics )

Opus IX in a song. 

I've long been in love with Greta Garbo and the dashingly handsome Robert Taylor in the film Camille, based on Alexandre Dumas' La Dame aux Camélias, which  Giuseppe Verdi turned into the opera La Traviata. 

Unlike Hester Prynne forced to don the scarlet letter, Opus IX wears her flaming red cloak with pride and much beauty. I am a big fan of Amouage (more correctly a fan of their dramatic and tempestuous creations that fly in the face of polite crowd-pleasers), a lover of jasmine and "stinky" scents as well as a complete sucker for romance ( I grew up on a diet of Judith McNaught). The animal is much alive in Opus IX but instead of grappling for world domination, it blends beautifully with a honeyed jasmine which provides just the right amount of floral sweetness and does magic up images of the snowy white camellias that Camille was never without, whether splurging on a massive bouquet or a stem tucked into a sash. A light layer of fine pepper breaks the lull created by the blissful union between the flowers and animals but Opus IX comes nowhere near as spicily aromatic as Nuit Noire nor as lusty. Opus IX focuses more on the highs and lows of the romance as compared to the never ending bondage session of Nuit Noire. From the first moment the scent caresses the skin so does the story unfold with bright flashes of vivacity and joy interspersed with shadows of melancholy that weigh heavily on the soul. 

I didn't delve into the story behind the creation of Opus IX before trying it on or writing this but now that I know that the inspiration came from La Traviata, it makes perfect sense . A scent of passionate love and hideous heartache that only too often go hand in hand. Artfully captured in the alluring yet tragic Opus IX. Massive projection and good longevity. This goes on the birthday wish list. 

Source: pinterest

Labdanum 18 Le Labo

This was my last birthday gift to myself and came shipped from Luckyscent via an amazing perfume-friend. I adore the skank Rose 31, the super leathery Patchouli 24, the hyper-realistic Lys 41, the gorgeous woody Belle du Soir, Santal 33 my favorite happy sandalwood and I was ready to be impressed by Labdanum 18.

I'm not wowed off my feet, but I'll say it's a good SKIN SCENT. It's so soft, it's practically made of fairies' wings. Not something I expected with labdanum and civet amongst its notes. 

I sprayed a copious amount on my sleeve and finally met Labdanum 18. It's a smoky, Oriental musk, with a hint of animals hiding behind the trees. Not as smoky like Le Labo's broody Vetyver 46, it's more resinous than a wood fire. 

So it didn't win the sweepstakes in projection but it's rather long-lasting, I could still detect its balmy sweetness eight hours on if I stick my nose to my arm. Good for days you want to remain discreet in office meetings before you have a rendezvous with your lover after, it's guaranteed he/she will respond amorously to this musky "like skin" but "skin rolled in animal funk and incense" scent. 

I've heard it compared to Musc Ravageur by Frederic Malle. I would say there are similarities but they are not identical twins, maybe fraternal. First I can actually smell Musc Ravageur after one spray (sorry for the repeated gripe), secondly Musc Ravageur has this potent, obvious spiciness about it that is not present in Labdanum 18. Musc Ravageur is provocative, in your face wantonness whereas Labdanum 18 is quietly alluring. Ok, Musc Ravageur would be Angelina Jolie (how could you miss all that sex appeal starting from the lips right?) versus the gamine Audrey Tautou as Labdanum 18 (watch Amelie then go watch Hors de prix). At the end of the day, it depends on who or what you want to channel.