This And That

Good Reads:

• The new face, according to the NY Magazine. I don't know if I should run to find a plastic surgeon or just hide under my bed.


• The nose doesn't forget, according to the NY Times. A scientific explanation to why smelling Colours by Benetton still makes me misty eyed.

Fragrance:

• I tested the new Estee Lauder Sensuous three times so far. It's not interesting enough to me for an actual review, but I see why it has a mass appeal. It's not a typical Lauder and it's better done than most of the things you'd find in Macy's. I just can't get excited about a sugar-glazed wood. Maybe I'll try again when the parfum version comes out.
  
• Lancome Magnifique- I smelled, I shrugged, I forgot. Anne Hathaway deserves better than this (seems to be the theme of her life lately).

Skin Care:

Speaking of Lancome, they have launched a new serum in the Secret de Vie range. The moisturizer is still my holy grail, so I might have to get it. I tried it at Saks today and it seemed nice. And despite what the SA told me, you can get it directly from Lancome. The Saks exclusivity was her excuse for the lack of samples. I'm getting seriously fed up with department stores and their employees. Thankfully, there's always online shopping.

Makeup:

• Among all the new collections for fall, some older and worthy makeup items are going to the great makeup counter in the sky. Alison Raffaele is discontinuing a whole bunch of makeup products and brushes. If, like me, you're a fan of her soft glosses, this is the time to stock up and hoard. Too bad there's no special discount. Besame Cosmetics, on the other hand, offer all their discontinued items (labeled Au Revoir) at amazingly low prices. With the adorable packaging and exceptional quality, this is one good bargain. The website doesn't make it easier to find them, though, so you'll need to search each category.
  
  
• At the total opposite end of the spectrum you'll find Giorgio Armani's fall makeup collection. The Python Palette is giving me a bad case of coveting. It's gorgeous, but is it $100 gorgeous?

Celebrities:
Katie Holmes is bringing ugly back. Who would have thought we'd ever see the tight rolls making a comeback? And, yes, it does make your butt look bigger.

Images: Go Fug Yourself, stOOpidgErL

In which I shave a leg

I haven't shaved my legs in 20 years.

Before you take my Beauty Ninja badge away, the reason for it is that I'm a devoted user of those electrical gadgets that pluck the hair and the roots, resulting in a smoother skin and a less frequent need for touch-ups. I've gone through several of them, different makers and models, and I plan to keep using them until something new and fabulous comes along. I still shave my armpits, though, so it's not like I've been completely out of touch with the world of shaving since mid 1988.


The package containing the new eos ultra moisturizing shave cream (am I the only one annoyed by products and brands that insist on using lower case for names?) had perfect timing: I have just squeezed the very last drops of shaving gel from the very last hoarded bottle I had of Gillette's Satin Care in the old plastic soft-grip bottles. At one time I had an army of them in the cabinet under the bathroom sink, but it's been a long time since they disappeared from the shelves, leaving us with the regular Satin Care in metallic canisters that leave those horrible rust rings wherever you put them and send me into a Joan Crawford-like rage.

The plastic bottles with the easy to grip design have won me even before using the first drop, and continued to impress me when testing. It's a very rich cream that makes shaving even the shortest pit bristles into an easy, smooth affair.

Now comes the part where I prove to you what a dedicated blogger I am. Or that I'm a scary, scary person: I wanted to give eos a better testing. So I decided to grow out a patch of leg hair and do what I haven't done in twenty years. It took a couple of weeks until I had something worth shaving (another benefit of the electrical gadget is that hair grows sparse and lackadaisical), but the day came that I could give my hairy leg a good shave.

The shaving cream did a great job. It was a much more pleasant experience than I remembered (hey, last time that part of me saw a razor, Ronald Reagan was in the White House and George Michael still wanted my sex). My skin felt smooth and moisturized, the hair was easily removed and no trauma was recorded.

eos ultra moisturizing shave cream comes in three scents. Pomegranate Raspberry is your average death by plastic fruit thing. Vanilla Bliss is a pleasant enough gourmand, but I have a problem with pit pudding. Still, I suspect most of you would like it best. Island Blue is one of those synthetic clean marine scents that I hate everywhere else but find perfect for the purpose of shaving my armpits. It has no presence, no staying power and won't distract you from your other bathroom scent indulgences.

eos ultra moisturizing shave cream is available from select drugstores (though my local Target doesn't carry it at the moment) and Drugstore.com for $5.49. I got it as a PR freebie.

art: Declan McCullagh Photography

The Aquatic Melon And The Disgusted Husband

There's a stage in the perfume obsession journey when one becomes acutely aware that behind every bottle there's an artist, the professional nose. It happens sometime after you get confident enough to say which notes and accords are more likely to please you than others (and you already know enough as to not make sweeping generalizations and allow exceptions for every rule), and your perfume identity begins to take a defined shape.

You start remembering more and more names of important noses and several of their creations. Suddenly, you learn to identify their "signatures" and can make a semi-learned observation about unique styles. You get excited for future releases from your favorite perfumers, but also develop an attitude about those whose work is most likely to leave you cold (or nauseous). And if you're me, you also get snarky.

It's not exactly a secret that there are a bunch of perfumers whom I'd like to take home with me. There's a shelf in my perfume cabinet that should be named the Christopher Sheldrake shrine. My love for Andy Tauer and Pierre Guillaume is well documented here, and I have a serious girl crush on Olivia Giacobetti.

At the same time, there are noses who tend to produce scents I consider Kryptonite.

I own one perfume by Jean-Claude Ellena: Elixir de Marveilles. I'm also quite fond of his creations for Frederic Malle, even if none of them is wearable on my skin, and of his Bois Farine. But it stops there. I can place most of his work on a scale between "why bother?" and "kill me, now". The first category includes all those transparent, watery scents that have no teeth or staying power and seem to thrive on a culture of perfume that desperately tries to smell like absolutely nothing (The Vert is a perfect example). Personally, it drives me nuts. Then there are the scents that upon contact with my skin turn sour and sickly, like Kelly Caleche, Cartier Declaration and the Malles. But the biggest offenders are the one I perceive as vile just from sniffing the bottle and get homicidal every time I dare try them on. Hermes Jardin Sur Le Nil is the stuff of nightmares (and, yes, I know it's one of the most beloved scents across blogs and message boards). Rumba (Balenciaga) has tried to kill me on more than one occasion, and I hope to live the rest of my life without the Van Cleef & Arpels.

This was my way of admitting that I'm not very objective when it comes to a Jean-Claude Ellena perfume. So when it was first announced that his newest release in the Hermes Jardin series was going to be an aquatic melon, you could have heard me making obnoxious and very unladylike gagging noises from here to Paris.

Still, I love perfume and I blog about it. The same curiosity that made me stick my nose and finger into a bottle of Secretion Magnifique led me to give my wrist a hefty spray of Jardin Apres La Mousson and hope for the best. However, I needed an unbiased nose to make the call.

Enter a long-suffering, unsuspecting husband. Since he shares my views on all things aquatic and melonic and is also aware of my anti-Ellena views, I didn't tell him what it was when I smiled sweetly and stuck my contaminated wrist under his nose. I wish I could take a picture of that moment. The look on his face was priceless.

Then he said, "Please don't make me smell this thing again. Ever ".

This thing sells like hot cakes. Make of it what you want.

Image: Pepino Melon And Hyacinth Beans by Jeanie Chadwick.