Scenting a Book Fair, Part 1

There’s a book fair for local authors coming up in May, and I’ll be there with stacks of my cozy mysteries, Killer Sillage and Savage Gourmand. Since my stories are set in a perfume store, I thought I'd bring a bit of that atmosphere to the table. And no, I’m not going to attack people with atomizers. I’m thinking smaller: pre-sprayed blotters that a customer can pick up and sniff, or not.

I thought that finding a scent for Killer Sillage would be the easy part. The central fragrance, Lycoctonum, is all dark roses, damp green things, and a bit of leather. It’s moody, elegant, and solvable. There has to be something out there already that would fit the bill. Right? Right?

Savage Gourmand seemed like it could be far more difficult to scent. Not that there's any shortage of gourmand fragrances on the market at the moment, but I wanted something specific. In the book, there’s a recurring scent called Queen of Dreams, which is supposed to evoke kouign-amann, that buttery, caramelized crown of laminated dough originally from Breton. In my thirty-ish years of fragrance collecting experience, I've encountered few gourmand scents that actually smell like pastry. Oh, sure, there are plenty of vanilla cupcake and roasted marshmallow clones out there in perfume-world, but how many of them also have the essential bready, yeasty quality that actual pastries possess? Um, none? At least none that I've encountered.

While I already have a ridiculous collection of perfumes and samples, including those with the rose, leather, green, and gourmand notes I would need to create my book fair scents, I thought I would also ask for expert opinions. First, I wrote to Sean Colbert, founder and perfumer of Buchart Colbert, a US-based fragrance house that has six very lovely fragrances (which I wrote about here). He responded that while gourmands weren't his field of expertise, he did have some suggestions for Lycoctonum. 

I also requested a perfume prescription from the lovely fragrance mavens from the On the Scent podcast, Suzy Nightingale and Nicola Bonn. They quickly put together a list of candidates for both Queen of Dreams and Lycoctonum. 

Once I had their lists, I ordered samples from Scent Split and Surrender to Chance, and a couple of roll-on perfume oils from Demeter. 

 

This was going to be easy. Right? 

Stay tuned!

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Posted by theminx on Minxstinks
Note: this post is my opinion. I am not affiliated with the companies mentioned in this post or any other companies.

Regrets, I Have a Few

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Many of my perfume regrets have one thing in common: I never smelled them first. I trusted the people who wrote the descriptions. I believed the copy, the reviews, the poetic shorthand that promised restraint, balance, or “just enough sweetness.” I assumed that when multiple experienced noses agreed on how something behaved, it would behave that way on me.  It turns out that trust was often misplaced, and my shelves are littered with the ghosts of blind buys that arrived sounding beautiful and left me disappointed.

Blind buys aren't the only perfume purchases I have bemoaned. Regret comes in many forms, including the heartbreak of lost or leaked bottles, the exasperation of customer-service nightmares, or simply the fading of excitement over time, as well as the betrayal of advertising copy.

Balmain Ambre Gris is Exhibit A in my shrine of blind-buy horrors. When it launched in 2008, it was spoken of as a salty amber, mysterious and coveted. I managed to snag a bottle from a discounter for about $60, a minor miracle, but the victory was short-lived. On my skin, Ambre Gris didn’t whisper elegance. It screamed bad breath. I’m talking the kind of olfactory assault that makes you imagine the scent of someone who forgot to brush, floss, and maybe even rinse for a week.

What I do not regret is selling that bottle on eBay for $250. The market may be irrational, but at least my nose is safe from smelling that smell on my skin again. Ambre Gris taught me two things: first, that blind-buy hubris can backfire spectacularly, and second, that capitalism has a sense of humor. (And, I must admit, that nearly 20 years later, the scent improved considerably, though not enough to keep it.) 

Eau de Boujee Verdant is Exhibit B. I am a sucker for green fragrances that are lush, leafy, and fresh, but I had completely forgotten that the “cactus” note in Verdant was actually crafted with Calone, a chemical I personally find horrid. The real reason I bought it? FOMO. I’d heard the On the Scent Podcast hosts raving about this British brand and felt like I needed to own something from Eau de Boujee. Shipping from the UK was $50, so I decided to go big: a full bottle of Verdant, travel sprays of the other three scents, and a candle. I wanted a taste of the hype, but what I got was a punch of synthetic cucumber and the faint, mocking laughter of my own impulses. (Two of the other scents remain in my collection, as does the candle, so all was not lost.)

Slice Society Snif is Exhibit C, and it broke my heart. The promise? Pizza. A fragrance that would summon mozzarella, dough, tomato sauce... all the comforting, greasy magic of a proper slice. What arrived instead was a cruel joke. For about ten glorious seconds, it hinted at tomato sauce, a fleeting whisper of what might have been. Then came a yeasty note that smelled far more like beer than bread, as if some sad tavern ghost had wandered into my bottle. And then, just when I thought it might recover, BAM! Tart blackcurrants hit, merciless and uninvited, leaving not a trace of pizza behind. I wore it once and never touched it again. Now I'm even afraid to try fragrances with a prominent blackcurrant note.

Akro Awake is Exhibit D, the coffee fragrance that should have awakened my senses but instead gave me nothing but regret. It’s technically accurate: the promised coffee, cardamom, and lemon notes are all present, but the vetiver dominates with the subtlety of a jackhammer. Wearing it felt like enduring a caffeine headache trapped in a glass bottle. It was sharp, spiky, and totally relentless. Every inhale reminded me that just because a fragrance hits all the right notes on paper doesn’t mean your nose will agree. I sampled it, thought I liked it, bought it, and realized my nose had been playing a joke on me.

Guerlain Spiritueuse Double Vanille is Exhibit E, a regret of the heartbreakingly subtle variety. I adored this smoky, rich vanilla so much that I treated it like a treasure: kept it in its original box, stored carefully in a plastic bin alongside other fragrances, and decanted in tiny amounts into a smaller bottle to use at will. But eventually, life got busy, and I didn’t touch it for a while. When I was ready to decant a little more, I discovered the horror. The screw cap had betrayed me and the liquid had leaked, leaving nothing but a smear of residue in the bottle. Years of love, care, and obsessive rationing, gone! (Yes, I cried.) 

I thought this fragrance was expensive when I bought it, but it now costs twice as much. Sadly, it will never again be part of my collection--unless some rich benefactor comes my way.

Ormonde Jayne Ambre Royal is Exhibit F, and its regret lies not in the scent itself but in the Kafkaesque nightmare of getting it. I had smelled the line years ago and remembered loving Ambre Royal, so when a coupon made a 30ml bottle affordable, I snapped it up. Shipping from the UK was fast, but my excitement curdled the moment I opened the package and found that they sent the wrong fragrance.

The website promised a smooth exchange if I notified them within 14 days. I emailed the same day. Five days later, nothing. I emailed again. Five more days later, the message had been read but ignored. Third email. A few days after that, I finally got a reply. They’d agree to exchange it. Around the same time, Black Friday sales started, and I realized 50ml of Ambre Royal was now $30 cheaper than the 30ml I had not yet received. I tried negotiating a creative solution: send me the 50ml plus another fragrance at the sale price, bill me the difference.

By the time the correct order arrived, about a month and a half later, after approximately 18 emails, I no longer wanted it. I haven’t even worn it. Ambre Royal remains, unopened, a trophy of bureaucracy and lost enthusiasm.

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Posted by theminx on Minxstinks
Note: this post is my opinion. I am not affiliated with the companies mentioned in this post or any other companies.

Good News! Sorta...

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When I was in New York in January, I noticed that Macy's not only had a Guerlain counter, but a Guerlain counter that offered their super pricey L'Art & la Matière collection. As I wandered, I noticed other high-end brands like Byredo, Acqua di Parma, and Balmain. I was impressed.

Then I spoke to the sales associates.

At the Guerlain counter, I asked if they had any Eau de Coton, from the Les Matières Confidentielles line. The SA looked confused. Scanned the bottles on display. Opened a few drawers and had me look inside them. "Do you see it?" She pointed to a couple bottle of Les Colognes that were tucked away. "Are these it?"

No. They weren't it.

At the Acqua di Parma counter, I was excited to finally try Buongiorno, a bright herbal-citrus scent. The SA was excited to have a customer, so he kept offering to spray different scents on blotters for me. (Note to SAs everywhere--most of us are perfectly capable of doing that ourselves.) Unfortunately, I had no idea what he was spraying, because he butchered the pronunciation of every single one of them.

Annoyed, I drifted off and spotted Balmain. I had already sniffed their scents at Bergdorf Goodman last summer, but thought I'd give them another go. 

I asked the SA if Balmain was part of the store's expansion of high-end brands, or if they had brought them in because Balmain Beauty was part of the Estee Lauder empire. He didn't know that Balmain Beauty was an EL company and waved that off as "some new gossip going around." (The collaboration between the two companies started in 2022.) He also didn't know that Ivoire had originally been launched in 1979. Sadly, the Ivoire launched in 2024 in no way resembles the original. The same is true of Vent Vert, which now opens with an almost rotten-smelling vegetal note, which may just be how my nose interprets the chemical Calypsone. (Which, according to Frangrantica, "smells ozonic, like sea breeze, with fruity watermelon nuances." Sounds like Calone to me, and we all know how much I like that one. [puking emoji])

I walked out of Macy’s irritated, not dazzled. Yes, it’s impressive that they’re carrying luxury fragrance now, at least at the New York flagship, but it’s hard to take the effort seriously when no one behind the counter seems to know what they’re selling.

High-end perfume isn’t just a price tag and a glossy display. If Macy’s wants to play in the luxury space, they need to do more than stock expensive bottles and hope for the best. Train your sales associates. Teach them the names, the lines, the legacies. Otherwise, this isn’t a luxury experience. It’s just a very expensive scavenger hunt, staffed by people who don’t know what they’re looking for either.

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Posted by theminx on Minxstinks
Note: this post is my opinion. I am not affiliated with the companies mentioned in this post or any other companies.

The Year in Perfume: 2025

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Looking back at 2025 through the fragrances I wore feels a little like reading a diary written in scent. I tracked every spray, sample, decant, and layering combination and was surprised to find which scents I reached for most often. Not surprisingly--as I tend to wear warmer scents in the winter and lighter ones in summer--some weeks were vanilla and warm, others bright, green, and a bit tomato-y. 

What was most interesting to me was that my most-grabbed scents were all purchased in 2025. Byredo Gypsy Water (15 wears) was my number one scent of the year, followed by 1907 Vanilla Dry and Liis Ethereal Wave (12 wears each), and Chanel Paris-Edimbourg and Escentric Molecules Molecule 01+Mandarin (8 wears each). These kept showing up, week after week, season after season. They were comforting, reliable companions, and both Paris-Edimbourg and Molecule 01+Mandarin layer fabulously. 

Amusingly, I didn't even like Vanilla Dry or Ethereal Wave when I first tried them. One sample test each and they were rejected. Months later, I gave them second tries and fell in love. Funny how that happens.

I also flirted a lot. Some perfumes I wore only a couple of times: Marissa Zappas Annabel’s Birthday Cake, Lush Turmeric Latte, Bond No.9 Andy Warhol Silver Factory. Not because I don't love them. I recently purchased the Zappas scent and plan to wear it more in the winter. I bought the Lush scent just before Spring and found it too rich to wear in warm weather. I tucked it away with my holiday-appropriate fragrances and realized in December that it will be perfect to wear in the upcoming months. As for the Bond scent, well, I fall in love with it every time I put it on. I just don't know why that doesn't happen particularly frequently. 

And then there was layering. The early months of the year were almost ridiculous, thanks to ChatGPT offering some surprisingly good (and occasionally disastrous) suggestions. Poivre Piquant over Trudon Revolution and Indult Rêve en Cuir? Definitely…a lot.

Seasonally, my rotation tells its own story. Winter was vanilla, amber, and gourmands, for that cozy and comforting feel. Spring brought florals, lighter musks, and a bit of freshness. Summer smelled of citrus, green, and light woody scents. Fall really marked the transition between the warmer temperatures of September and the chill of December. 

Looking at it all together, I realized that perfume doesn't just decorate life, it marks time, mood, and memory. Some weeks were vanilla and warm, some bright and citrusy, some layered beyond reason, but all of them were uniquely mine. Perfume didn’t tell the whole story of 2025, but it told a quieter, smellier one—and sometimes that’s the one I prefer.

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Posted by theminx on Minxstinks
Note: this post is my opinion. I am not affiliated with the companies mentioned in this post or any other companies.

A Favorite: Chanel Les Exclusifs No. 18

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Chanel Les Exclusifs No. 18

Ambrette (Musk Mallow), Iris, Rose, Geranium, White Musk

I have to admit, Chanel No. 18 isn’t a fragrance that comes up in everyday conversation. It’s one of those Les Exclusifs gems that hides in plain sight. It's less famous than No. 5, Coco, or No. 19, but quietly brilliant. And after spending some serious time with it over the last several years, I can see why.

No. 18 is a musky, aromatic, slightly metallic fragrance that feels both classic and modern. It’s perfect for anyone who likes their perfume refined, intimate, and a little unexpected. This scent is built around ambrette seed, a musky, slightly carrot-y ingredient that smells clean, luminous, and very skin-like. Add iris, and you get this cool, slightly metallic shimmer that lifts the musk without softening it too much. The result is a fragrance that is cold, clean, entirely unisex, and never feels like it’s trying too hard. 

What’s most striking about No. 18 is its subtlety. It’s never loud or flashy. If it was a color, it would be a silvery grey. It’s the type of scent that rewards close attention, an intimate fragrance that you don’t notice across the room, but when you do, it lingers in your memory. Some people even call it “like freshly washed skin,” and I’d argue that’s not far off. But it’s also luminous, and just a little mysterious.

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Posted by theminx on Minxstinks

Note: this post is my opinion. I am not affiliated with the companies mentioned in this post or any other companies.

2025 Purchases

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If you’re on TikTok, you’ve probably seen those end-of-month videos where fragrance lovers confess everything they bought in the last thirty days. I didn’t make that many perfume purchases in 2025, so instead of monthly reckonings, here’s one full accounting of the year.

All told, I added 29 fragrances to my collection. I’m not counting anything I bought for my husband, and I’m also excluding samples and travel sprays--this list is full bottles only. Paying full retail isn’t really my thing, so most of these came from discounters, coupon codes, or overseas vendors (at least before the de minimis exemption met its untimely demise). There were seven purchases made at a brick-and-mortar boutiques where retail prices were unavoidable, but the rest were bought at a discount.

Here’s the damage:

• 1907 Vanilla Dry — $136.89

• 4160 Tuesdays Rhubarb & Custard — $180

• Al-Rehab French Coffee — $7.99

• Buchart Colbert Faison D'Or — $148

• Byredo Gypsy Water — $174.99

• Calvin Klein Obsession — $19.19

• Chanel Paris-Edimbourg — $123

• Dolce & Gabbana The Only One EDP Intense — $62.99

• D.S. & Durga Wear at Maximum Volume — $250

• Diptyque L’Eau Papier — $102.66

• Gallagher Mists of Time — $115

• Heeley Palm — $156.60

• Hellenist Les Bras de Morphée — $48

• Henrik Vibskov L’Eau Rouge Nature — $127

• Hermès Barénia — $73.38

• J-Scent On a Cloud — $79.50

• Kerosene Winter of ’99 — $164

• Liis Ethereal Wave — $175

• Marissa Zappas Annabel’s Birthday Cake — $131.25

• Memo Eau de Memo — $99.70

• Miller et Bertaux Tulsivivah! — $124.20

• Nasomatto Absinth — $89.99

• Odin 01 Sundara — $165

• Oriza L. Legrand Empire des Indes — $178.50

• Escentric Molecules Molecule 01 + Mandarin — $129.19

• Perfumer H Rain Wood — $146.66

• Pineward Tome — $80

• Sarah Baker Peach’s Revenge — $265

• Trudon Bruma — $205.33

The total comes to approximately $3,759, assuming I didn’t fat-finger the calculator (entirely possible). That may sound like a lot, but I know people who spend that in a single month. I will not be naming names.

There’s another side to this ledger, though. In 2025, I sold 25 rare and discontinued fragrances on eBay, grossing just over $5,000. After taxes, shipping, and fees took their cut, the actual payout landed at $3,453. If I treat that resale income as my fragrance budget, then my out-of-pocket cost for all those new bottles was just $306.

By that math, I did pretty well in 2025.

Unfortunately, this particular trick won’t work again in 2026. I’ve already sold off just about every bottle in my collection that anyone might reasonably want to pay serious money for. Which means next year’s tally, if there is one, will look very different.

And probably much more painful. 

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Posted by theminx on Minxstinks
Note: this post is my opinion. I am not affiliated with the companies mentioned in this post or any other companies.

Sorry and Sorry

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I want to apologize to my readers for neglecting this blog in the second half of 2025. 

One reason is that I've been very busy with my new side hustle as novelist. Since June of 2025, I have written nearly 140,000 words, which includes two complete novels and a novella. The first book, Killer Sillage, came out in September, and is available in both paperback and Kindle format. The second book, Savage Gourmand, is slated to be released in April, though I have not yet listed it for pre-order. The novella, Season's Greedy, was serialized on my author Substack, LaGue's Clues. I am also currently plotting book three in the Good Scents series of cozy mysteries. The hope is that A Murderous Accord will be published in September of 2026.

(You see what I did there with the titles, don't you? The protagonists in this series run a perfume shop in the Fells Point neighborhood of Baltimore, Maryland. If you're into fragrance--and you might be if you're reading this blog--you might enjoy them.)

Another reason is less fun to talk about. The current political climate has caused me to withdraw from things like social media. I still participate in Instagram and Facebook, but not to the extent I once did. I’ve unfollowed everything that reliably pisses me off. (And yet, I joined TikTok. Apart from a couple of fellow perfume lovers, Angie and Lois, pretty much everything about that platform also pisses me off.)

As I get older, I’ve realized I don’t want to be angry all the time. I don’t want to argue with strangers or marinate in outrage. Avoiding potential triggers feels less like disengagement and more like self-preservation. While my blogs are fully under my control, and contentious comments are rare, I still found myself avoiding them.

Maybe it's not healthy that I've retreated into my own fictional world of perfume shop owners and dead bodies, but it sure beats the realization that I can no longer order perfumes from Nose or Jovoy in Paris and 50-ML in Milan, or supplies for my jewelry business from China, because of tariffs. 

So if Minxstinks went a little quiet, consider this my apology—and my explanation. I haven’t fallen out of love with perfume; I’ve just been hiding in it. Stepping back wasn’t about disengaging so much as choosing what deserves my attention. Perfume still does. Writing does too. And this blog, when I let it be a place of pleasure rather than pressure, does as well. Thank you for sticking around and for coming back when I do.

Here's to a happy 2026 (fingers crossed).

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Posted by theminx on Minxstinks
Note: this post is my opinion. I am not affiliated with the companies mentioned in this post or any other companies.

What I've Been Wearing in 2025 - September through December

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I thought it would be fun (and a little nerdy) to keep counting what I actually wore as the year wound down. From September through December, I surprised to see that I wore 88 different fragrances, 22 more than the prior period. As usual, plenty of those were one-offs, samples, or brief flirtations. But a few scents clearly wanted more time on my skin, and one in particular made a convincing case for emotional-support status.

J-Scent On a Cloud, worn seven times, was the clear standout. It's soft, milky, and quietly comforting. It's not flashy, not seasonal cosplay, just consistently right. Close behind was Trudon Bruma, with four wears, a peppery, warm iris that is an excellent bridge between seasons. After all, the word bruma refers to the winter solstice in Latin.

A small group of fragrances showed up three times each, quietly anchoring the season: Guerlain's new Shalimar L’Essence, Buchart Colbert Faison D'Or, Celine Saint-Germain-des-Pres, Acqua di Parma Mandorlo di Sicilia, Chanel Paris-Edimbourg, Molecule 01 + Mandarin, Ellis Brooklyn Salt, and Miller et Bertaux Tulsivivah! These neatly sum up my fall preferences, balancing classic warmth, gentle sweetness, and aromatic depth.

Several others earned repeat appearances (two wears apiece), including Liis Ethereal Wave, Memo Eau de Memo, Sana Jardin Air of Aquarius, Estee Lauder Azuree Soleil, Buchart Colbert Le Bain de Lulu, Lubin Idole, 1907 Vanilla Dry, Bruno Acampora Musc, Une Nuit Nomade Sugar Leather, Guerlain Eau Secrète, Frapin 1270, Lush Turmeric Latte, ELDO Noël au Balcon, Marissa Zappas Annabel’s Birthday Cake, Chabaud Lait et Chocolat, Bamford Gray, Maison Louis Marie Bois de Balincourt, and Pineward White Fir. Everything else in the log made a single appearance.

There was a definite seasonal arc. 

September leaned light and citrussy, with airy woods, aromatics, and transparent musks. These were fragrances that lifted off the skin rather than hugged it: Hermes Jardin sur le Nil, Laboratorio Olfattivo Pampelmo, 19-69 Capri, alongside Escentric Molecules Molecule 01 + Mandarin, Byredo Gypsy Water, and Maison Louis Marie Bois de Balincourt. Even when warmth appeared, it was sunlit rather than cozy. 

October acted as a hinge month, holding onto freshness while introducing amber, spice, and soft vanilla as texture rather than dessert. I did more layering in this month, too. By November, the log shows a clear turn toward resins, musks, ambers, and spiced woods.

December was definitely all about the holidays. Several fragrances evoked the season explicitly. Pineward White Fir, worn on both Christmas Eve and Christmas Day, balances evergreen, spice, and a touch of orange. It's festive without being a novelty scent. ELDO Noël au Balcon shares some of that DNA but is quieter, honeyed and spiced, missing the evergreen. The spicy-gourmand department is rounded out by two scents that make me think of gingerbread: my old favorite, Fendi Theorema (classic, spicy gingerbread) and a new one, Kerosene Winter of 99, which is molasses-forward, rich and nostalgic.

Even On a Cloud, my most-worn scent, fits neatly into this palette: peppermint meringue, airy and sweet, like candy canes rather than cake. It's light, festive, cozy, but needs to be layered with something like Bath & Body Works Twisted Peppermint body cream to extend the wear.

 

As we move into the new year, I’m curious whether this cozy, festive streak will deepen or loosen its grip. Will On a Cloud keep its crown? (Though it evokes candy canes, I think peppermint might be nice in January, too.) Or will a surprise fragrance break through? Either way, I’ll be counting, and I hope you'll be here to read.

Happy 2026!

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Posted by theminx on Minxstinks
Note: this post is my opinion. I am not affiliated with the companies mentioned in this post or any other companies.