Tags

, ,

I often times write with music in the background. So get the full experience and click here to listen to the Lady Gaga track I was listening to while writing this.

Q: What do you think the following people have in common:

A very handsome middle-aged  litigation attorney in an elevator ride to his San Francisco office,
A gorgeous voluptuous big lipped  red hair woman at an antique sale,
A sexy married indian man dancing with me at a party,
A young and dynamic saleswoman following me around in a hip clothing store,
My “no-words-in-the-book-to-describe-him” husband, Michael, every time he gets a chance,
And countless others…

A: They all whispered to my ear: “What is your perfume? It is driving me crazy!”. I smile with delight and whisper back “Poême” (de Lancôme).

Poême has been my most reliable companion since 2002, while on one of my many trips to Tahiti. I worship Tahiti for the incomparable beauty of her islands and magic of her people. Anytime Life throws a big challenge at me, that is where I go to regroup and recharge before fighting back.

I never understood my attachment to Poême. It is even more strange given I could not even tell you what it smells like (I can’ smell it on me anymore), but I would recognize its scent out of a million! Michael is convinced that the chemistry between the two scents (Poême and my skin), creates an even more wonderful and unique smell.

In the end, this review of Poême could have come from me for I so relate to it:

I’ve recently rediscovered this 1995 release by perfumer Jacques Cavallier (via Now Smell This) and it’s just as sumptuous as I’d remembered it. It’s not the most well loved of Lancome fragrances, and small wonder at that. For all the thick, cozy warmth, it’s nevertheless so strong that it hits some folks like a bitchslap in a mitten. Poeme’s composition is so chock full o’ notes that it reminds me of how Givenchy’s Amarige can be received: No two people will notice the exact same notes at any one time. On me, Poeme seems front-loaded with peach and tuberose, with a distinctly smokey undertone of woody amber and what I keep imagining is “violet leaf.” My nose lies to me, because I think my “violet leaf” is supposed to “vetiver.” I like my husband’s impression of Poeme best; When asked his opinion of it on my wrist, he shook his head ruefully and said, “That is what you wear to crush the competition in a room.” Ha! And maybe that’s why I like it. Screw the girl power of the 90s, give me some woman power.” More here.”