More Lagniappe Oaks

Back to NOLA and her perfumes, as promised.* I found a couple of surprises in Lagniappe Oaks' Jazz Ensemble, both good and bad.

Jazz Royale: A classic fougere, similar to Bourbon French's Carre, but a bit less butch. I think I could get away with wearing this one around Dave, who frowns on girls in boy perfume. If you love a lavender/oakmoss combo and don't have a barbershop phobia, this one would be likely to please you.

Jazebelle: A faintly shrill white floral, and I mean that in a good way. I get the usual mix of orange blossom, gardenia and tuberose underneath a prominent white ginger note. The base seems to be a very light musk. Jazebelle suits its name, and IMO is the only thing from Lagniappe Oaks that carries the slightest air of femme fatale. As floral screamers go, however, it's pretty subdued. It won't call the dogs from across a parking lot.

Jazmine: What a disappointment. I love jasmine, but it often doesn't love me, so I am always on the lookout for tame-yet-interesting versions of the flower. I was sure this would be one, given the general tone of the perfumery's output. Jazmine, alas, smells nothing like real jasmine in any form I recognize. All I get from it is that awful laundry room note that ruins Wisteria & Lace, with a touch of drugstore plastic jasmine underneath. Would probably make a fine air freshener.

Jazzelle: This one is a surprise of the delightful kind. I was sure I would hate it. It's a chocolate scent, and I am very much in the camp that says chocolate should be eaten, not spritzed. I might get the occasional urge to smear myself with cocoa butter in the winter, but I regard that desire as faintly perverse and embarrassing. Why would I want to leave my house smelling as if I'm wearing edible panties? The great thing about Jazzelle is that it opens with such a brazen, over-the-top chocolate note that all my resistance is overwhelmed by the surge of feel-good neurochemicals it induces. Jazzelle them rewards my weakness with some unexpected, and very pretty, floral notes. This may be love.


The Heirloom Collection is for those days when you're ready for some serious past life regression. These are scents to please your grandmother's grandmother.

Lady Evangeline: The website calls this a vanilla scent, but my thought on first sniff was "heliotrope and musk." Actually, it is rich in vanilla, but it's a true vanilla, rather fresh and light, as opposed to the resinous vanillic notes that come from benzoin and amber. Faintly sweet and powdery, this scent is just too wide-eyed for me to wear alone. It does, however, layer well with just about anything you want to soften or sweeten. It even works with Jazz Royale above.

Mignonette: I confess I have never smelled real mignonette, so I have no idea how true Lagniappe Oaks' version is to the flower. Other supposed mignonette perfumes I've smelled have been sweeter and much more powdery than this one. That said, it's probably my favorite scent in the whole line. It's difficult to describe, but if you imagine a slightly herbaceous, powdery heliotrope, you'll get the idea. It has a decidedly Victorian character. I've got the edt and the lotion, and I've had great success with layering both of them, especially with white florals. Mignonette is quite wearable on its own, however, especially if you're not planning to handle power tools or confront troublesome persons.

Victorian Lace: Basically, a muguet and stephanotis scent. Not powdery or sweet, not terribly green, either. Soapy in what I consider to be a good way. It would make a wonderful scent for a very young girl, but I'd be happy to wear it any time I wanted something clean and unobtrusive.

Lilac & Lace: Like the name says, lilacs, freshened with muguet and a mere whisper of that cotton note that keeps turning up. I actually like it here, because it works against the cloying quality that often ruins lilac scents for me. This is another one you wouldn't mind dabbing on your first-grader or yourself. Very unlikely to draw complaints.




*I meant to say a word in the prior post about the rather precious marketing of the New Orleans perfumeries. I'm sure it's a bit of a turn-off for some--hell, it's a bit of a turn-off for me, and I love New Orleans. If you're at all curious about the scents, I'd really encourage you to forget the twee names and try the perfumes with an open mind. We manage to overlook the obnoxious antics of Tom Ford, don't we?



Photo of Jackson Square from Wikimedia Commons