Holiday in NYC, Part 3

"A new scent--unrecognizable but exquisite. In its wake came Lita Wyant, half-dancing, half-drifting, fastening a necklace, humming a tune, her little round head, with the goldfish-colored hair, the mother-of-pearl complexion and screwed-up auburn eyes, turning sideways like a bird's on her long throat."

That passage from Edith Wharton's Jazz Age novel, Twilight Sleep, popped into my head as we entered Aedes de Venustas, perhaps because the shop's gloomy interior made me think of the black decor of Lita's boudoir, considered mildly shocking by her proper in-laws. Lita, who was lured by all things fashionable, would certainly be an Aedes regular if she were magically transported to 21st century New York. I could almost see her sniffing delicately at the MPG line.

Dave and I worked our way down to Christopher Street after having spent the morning in Caron and Takashimaya, so I was just about sniffed out--at least, I thought I was. I seem to have unlimited olfactory stamina when conditions are right, and they were right in Aedes. We were the only customers, and Robin (hope I'm spelling that correctly) was the perfect unobtrusive helper as I made my way around the store.

I reacquainted myself with Chergui, SL's great amber-tobacco elixir. It's one of the few Lutens scents I find easy to love. I had one of those familiar bad perfumista/good perfumista inner dialogues:

"It's so beautiful, you know you want a bottle. What else smells like this? You're on a roll here, and Dave's buying. Go for it."

"Please, don't be stupid. Sure, it's tempting, but how often would you actually wear it? Tennessee has about 9 months of summer, and you couldn't bear it in the heat. Don't cave, you'll regret it tomorrow."

Fortunately--or unfortunately, depending on which perfumista you heed--the Chergui was out of stock. The hurdle of having to wait for an order was enough to dim its appeal.

I huffed a few Annick Goutals--Encens Flamboyant, Myrrhe Ardente, etc. Perfectly attractive, but no chemistry there. I actually would have liked to douse Dave in Myrrhe Ardente, but I had already subjected him to Yatagan and Santos. (Did I mention our Sephora stop?) I figured I'd better give him a little breathing room, literally.

I moved on to the Creeds, hoping against hope that they might have some Aubepine Acacia, or at least be able to acquire it in something other than the bloated 250 ml bottle. But no, alas. That was my first heartbreak in Aedes. I have been wanting a bottle of AA for a long time, but I just cannot bring myself to buy a small vat of the stuff. Ounce for ounce, of course, it's actually cheaper than the smaller Creed bottles, but something about the excess of that presentation offends me. The hedonist in me occasionally gives way to the puritan. I did nab a little bottle of Tubereuse Indiana, but I regard that as a practical investment, like buying clothes for work. TI is one of those all-purpose scents I know won't go to waste.

The second heartbreak was meeting Amouage Jubilation. Oh my god--so exquisite, so classic, so perfect for me...and so fucking expensive. It's actually just a smidgen more than the Creeds and SLs, but we had been on such a spree, it was time to put the brakes on. Plus, I had already fallen into bed with a scent I just met, i.e., Ginger Ciao. How many times can you do that in one day? Even when it's your 47th birthday and you feel death approaching, you shouldn't just abandon all sanity, should you?

Robin kindly made me a little sample of the Jubilation. I'm hoping I'll hate it on next sniff, but the odds are against it. I'm not as fickle as Lita.


Photo from Aedes de Venustas