I Fell for Le Labo's Santal 33 Just Like the Rest of the World and I Don't Care if That Makes Me a Sucker
I mean, even Justin frickin' BEIBER wears it.
The first house I lived in was on a cul-de-sac in South Plainfield, New Jersey. I lived there for 15 years, and it was a truly lovely place to grow up. Part of the charm was the closeness of all the neighbors (many of whom I'm still in touch with today), but much of it could be attributed to--as silly as this may seem--foliage.
My backyard had what my friends and I believed to be the biggest evergreen tree in town--appropriate because the street I lived on was called Evergreen Lane--and I always dreamt that one day the Rockefeller Center people would come take it away and use it for their Christmas tree (even though I grew up in a Jewish family).
But the trees on our property that meant the most to be were the two dogwood trees. There was one in the backyard and one in the front, which I considered my father's and mine, respectively. I can't remember why. Kids are weird.
One of the ways I was an especially weird kid: Sometimes, if I was just hanging out outside by myself (are kids still allowed to do that?), I would eat the petals off the dogwood tree blossoms. I have no idea if that was potentially poisonous, but it may or may not explain why I got even weirder with age.
My bizarre relationship with dogwood trees may also explain why I was immediately drawn to Royal Apothic's new fragrance, Dogwood Blossom.
Stunningly packaged, it doesn't remind me of the taste of dogwood petals, which is probably a good thing. Instead, it blends notes of the titular flower with tobacco flower, amber, ginger, cocoa, honey, tonka bean and teakwood. It smells good enough to drink, but I'm going to employ my grownup temptation-resisting skills.
I gave a bottle of it to my most fragrance-articulate friend, Colleen, who texted me to declare her love for it. So I asked her to provide her own mini-review:
I think it smells like a rich, gender-bending pipe-smoking gentleman. It's very masculine, with just a slight edge of sweetness; something I imagine Kevin Spacey in Midnight in the Garden of Good & Evil would wear, or perhaps even that old man in Narnia--OMG, HIS NAME IS DIGORY KIRKE. It is a bit musty, in an old-tweed-jacket-leather-chair-tobacco sort of way, but also mysterious and intriguing. Someone who loves to travel but finds interest in even the most mundane. I found it truly special.
She has a way with perfume words, no?
If the scent--made exclusively for Anthropologie by the Los Angeles- and London-based brand--appeals to you, but not in a wear-it-on-my-skin kind of way, it's also available in a beautiful candle.
I'd give it to my dad, but I think Colleen will appreciate it more, don't you?