As much as I enjoy wearing perfume and am fascinated by the science and art behind it, I made the decision earlier this year to step back from the fraghead community and the constant exposure to new fragrances. I have a curated collection that offers something for every season and mood, so there is no need for me to keep looking for the ‘next thing’. As I mentioned in my last post, I also generally prefer fragrances of older vintage, which tend to get less attention in the community than current and new releases. And being happy with my current collection, it seemed to only make sense to stop buying perfume.

Well, unless the thrift gods dangle something too tempting to resist in front of my nose.

Which brings me to today’s subjects — a true mix bag, if there ever was one.

Under the “old” rubric, I randomly stumbled on a perfume that had caught my attention months ago, while reading Luca Turin’s original guidebook. Turin and his co-reviewer Tania Sanchez are economical with their 5-star reviews, so I usually end up doing a little extra research into the perfumes that land one of them. Beyond Paradise from Estee Lauder was released in 2003, so it fits right into the timeframe of most of my favourite perfumes. It’s a white floral fragrance created by Calice Becker, with top notes of Hyacinth, orange blossom, grapefruit, bergamot and lemon; middle notes of jasmine, gardenia, honeysuckle and orchid; and base notes of hibiscus, plum wood, and amber. It has since been reformulated and reissued, but the internet consensus is that the current version doesn’t really smell like the original. Bottles of the original are pretty expensive on the resale market, and while I was intrigued by Sanchez & Turin’s descriptions of the fragrance, I wasn’t convinced it was something I needed to try.

But I was very pleased when I came across a travel size rollerball of it for less than $20. I knew it was the OG formulation because the glass had the distinctive rainbow ombre effect of the original bottle design.

I have a feeling that the ‘juice’ in my rollerball has suffered a bit from the effects of time (though it came in a box, so it was likely not over-exposed to light, the main culprit in the denaturation of perfumes); it is not as potent as Beyond Paradise is described in reviews to have been. That being said, it’s a really lovely fragrance. The fruity notes are well blended with the floral ones, giving it a tropical vibe. I am tempted to compare it to Calyx, which also blends fruits and florals in a tropical way, but they are interestingly different; Calyx smells greener and more humid/aquatic, but less sweet, than Beyond Paradise. That being said, and despite the tropical vibe, Beyond Paradise is not an overly sweet or heady fragrance but rather a very elegant, understated floral. There are definite similarities with Estee Lauder Pleasures as well, though this one is fruitier.

Under the ‘new’ rubric, and on the other end of the brand scale, there is Sweet Melon:

I picked this up purely based on a quick sniff test: despite the name, it’s a cherry-forward fragrance, which is something I had wanted to add to my collection. After some googling, I was able to determine that Sweet Melon is made by a “dupe” brand, specializing in perfumes that smell like various popular designer fragrances. I believe Sweet Melon is intended to be a dupe of Tom Ford’s Lost Cherry. Having subsequently had the opportunity to test Lost Cherry at Sephora, and I can attest that the two do, in fact, smell very similar. I have no idea what the notes in Sweet Melon are, because it doesn’t pop up in Fragrantica or similar websites, but they must include cherry and sandalwood. There is a pleasant woody smokiness that takes the cherry from candy-like to something a little darker. It’s not an overly sweet perfume, and the cherry doesn’t veer into medicinal territory as far as my nose is concerned. (Online reviews are mixed on this.) The potency and longevity are pretty poor — this is NOT a two-spray perfume, more of a spray-liberally one — but for the price, one can hardly complain. I paid $10 at the thrift, and I’m pretty sure that’s its regular retail price as well.

Lastly, there is Hypnose by Lancome:

Released in 2005 and created by Annick Menardo (who also created the original Lolita Lempicka perfume, another fave of mine) and Thierry Wasser, Hypnose is the same vintage as Beyond Paradise; unlike the latter, however, it is still around in more or less the same formulation. It’s listed as having passionflower as a top note; jasmine and gardenia as middle notes, and vanilla and vetiver as base notes. The best way I can describe it is as a pillowy cloud of vanilla marshmallow. It’s soooo smooth and soothing. It has the sweetness of a gourmand fragrance without any heaviness, and without smelling like actual dessert. There is a creamy, dreamy vibe that, well, I just can’t get enough of. To me, it’s a vanilla-forward fragrance that doesn’t smell like a run-of-the-mill vanilla-forward fragrance. Maybe it’s the passionflower, but there is something unusual, out of the ordinary about Hypnose. I wear it to bed a lot, and also on days when I want to feel relaxed and happy.

Hypnose was not a thrift find, but rather a birthday gift from my dad. I thought it would be a nice tradition to create for us; perfume is what my dad would often buy for my mom for birthdays and Christmases, and it’s easier for him to do the same for me than try to figure out a different present every year. I chose Hypnose (and told him about it) because it had stuck with me for months after I sampled it. I like to think it’s a perfume my mom would have loved too, and it reminds me of both of them when I wear it.

Details: Bozzolo top (retail), Pelican Cover shirt, Jil Sander coat, Emmanuel belt, Ralph Lauren skirt, Storey’s shoes (all thrifted), Dooney bag (Poshmark)

Thoughts: Trying out olive green paired with camel, and I think I’m a fan. Layered outfits like this one represent my favourite styling approach for cool weather dressing. A relatively lightweight cashmere jacket can be sufficiently warm when paired with 2-3 thinner layers (cotton and wool, ideally). I will go to any lengths to minimize the amount of time I need to spend swaddled in my heavy-duty coats … and layering doesn’t require me to take too drastic measures. Plus, it allows me to wear more of my clothes, which is a bonus because I have a lot of clothes to wear 😉

Details: French Connection sweater, DKNY blazer, Gap belt, Calvin Klein jeans, vintage bag (all thrifted), Mia shoes (retail)

Thoughts: This might seem a relatively basic outfit — minimal layering involved, simple colour palette — but I loved how beautifully all the individual pieces came together. The wood bead necklace and the bag tie everything together, and also provide visual interest. Something for the eye to pause upon and delight in. Which is the only way I can embrace any semblance of minimalism.

Details: Ralph Lauren sweater & trench, Do+Be skirt, Storey’s shoes (all thrifted)

Thoughts: Still rocking this leopard print skirt and having fun exploring its styling possibilities. This time, I paired it with brown-and-cream stripes. I’m trying to stay away from using too much black in these outfits, because I want to dial back the contrast. (A black bag was my sole exception, and a special one at that as this is one of my mom’s old bags.) To create depth and richness, I mixed different shades in the same colour family: dark brown and camel; cream and beige.

Details: J. Crew shirt, Lord & Taylor sweater, Gap jacket, Fossil belt, Eddie Bauer pants (all thrifted)

Thoughts: The idea behind this outfit was pretty simple: brown and blue (one of my fave combos) and textural contrast. Again, you’ll notice that I mixed 2 different shades: light blue and cerulean; chocolate brown and whiskey brown. I think this helps make the outfit “pop” more than sticking to a strictly binary colour scheme, but still creates the impression of a harmonious minimalist palette.

Details: Jeanne Pierre sweater, DKNY blazer, Dolce & Gabbana skirt (all thrifted), Manolo Blahnik shoes (eBay)

Thoughts: I don’t buy (or wear) knee-length pencil skirts these days, but I had to make an exception for this one because I could not resist that beautiful tulip pattern. (It was an exception in more ways than one, because I also don’t usually buy or support D&G as a brand. I have mixed feelings about making that exception, but ultimately decided to go ahead since I was not directly putting money into the brand’s hands.) I paired it with a vintage longline blazer and sleeveless turtleneck for a look that, to me, feels very “Y2K corporate chic”. I have a nostalgic appreciation for it, but I am not sure if it feels very “me”. Next time, I think I’m going to try adjusting the proportions of the skirt, probably by rolling the waistband a little bit so the hem comes up above the knee. I don’t want to permanently commit to making it a mini skirt, however; it’s possible that I’ll come back around to knee-length skirts again in the future, or else I may pass it on to someone who prefers it as-is.

Details: Club Monaco turtleneck (retail), Danier vest, Kate Hewko skirt, Ermo bag, Ann Marino shoes (all thrifted

Thoughts: Here is another red and navy pairing, with plum picking up a minor supporting role. That would be the turtleneck, which I assure you is not black, though it may look like it is. In fact, the only black to be found in this outfit is on my feet; these shoes are black and navy, which is a handy combination for footwear (much like brown and black) because it allows one to wear the said footwear with either colour as the base neutral. The star attraction, however, is that fabulous vintage suede vest (featuring my new favourite shade of red) and that no less fabulous velvet bag (ditto).

Details: vintage sweater, Danier jacket, Donna Karan belt (all thrifted), Banana Republic pants (retail)

Thoughts: More vintage suede! I love the cut of this jacket — it’s serving some Jackie O vibes, I think. I didn’t want to go full “first lady” mode with this outfit, so I paired the jacket with pieces that have a more casual vibe thanks to their fabrics (corduroy and chenille). The palette is, once again, mostly brown — in different shades, natch, to keep things interesting as well as cohesive. That cream belt came in clutch, and not for the first time — nor last, I should imagine.

As an only child, I experienced a not-insignificant amount of wistful longing for a sibling while growing up. Above all, I wanted a sister – though, in truth, what I wanted was a built-in best friend. Because it’s hard to make friends when you’re an introvert and a teenager and your life is entirely uprooted not once but twice within the space of a few years. Of course, having a sibling is no guarantee of harmonious companionship, but I didn’t know that at the time, what with being an only child and having no friends. There is nothing to say that, had I had a sister, we would have (happily) shared the same interests or opinions. Much less the same closet, although I dreamed that dream for a long time. In any event, my idealized expectations of female bonding rituals, nourished by books, magazines, and TV, never had the chance to rub up against prosaic realities. My mom was never especially interested in fashion or makeup, and I never lived with roommates (until I met my husband, whose interest in those things is also essentially nil.) For more than 30 years, I was the undisputed queen of my realm. And by realm, I mean my closet. I loved fashion and I painstakingly built a little universe around it. OK, maybe not so little. And if there was nobody in my day-to-day life with whom I could share bits of that universe, well … that’s what this blog was for — whose added bonus is that none of you have ever asked to borrow a pair of shoes and forgotten to return it.

And then I had a daughter.

There were many reasons why, before she was born, I hoped to have a daughter. I wouldn’t say that they were bad reasons but, for the most part, those reasons are not the same reasons why, today, I am grateful that I have a daughter. Life teaches you things you had no idea that you didn’t know or understand – not just about the world and what’s important in it, but about yourself. (Maybe those are two sides of the same coin.) One of things I had hoped for, before my daughter was born, was that we might share the sort of connection that my mom and I didn’t really have when I was growing up – one forged in common interests and experiences. I knew that it wasn’t a given simply by virtue of biology, but that didn’t stop me from hoping it might happen.

The answer wasn’t obvious from the jump, as such things rarely are. One of the joys of parenthood has been watching my kids’ personalities slowly unfold before my eyes. As a parent, one’s role in that process is a curious one: not wholly a spectator, not unilaterally a director, often on the spot but never in the spotlight. Something of a Jill-of-all-trades, hoping always for the best and being frequently surprised by what ends up transpiring during the performance – because there’s no dress rehearsal, of course. Anyway, in the fullness of time, it became clear that I had been granted my wish. My daughter is a chip off the old block; that block being me, to be precise. She loves to draw and read, and her “happy place” is the library; she has a weakness for accessories and plans her outfit the night before. We are two peas in a pod.

Well, sort of.

One of the most emotionally fraught transitions of parenthood – less immediately tumultuous than the arrival of a brand-new human being in one’s life, but no less profound in consequence – is the emergence of boundaries. For the first few years of their lives, my kids felt as much a part of me as they had been while in utero. Like an extra appendage tacked onto my body, sometimes quite literally. I don’t know exactly when this started to change; it happened so gradually, I hardly noticed. But there came a day when it hit me: my kids are people. I know that sounds silly – what else would they be? – but the reality of that, as a parent, is different from the abstract concept. So, then: my daughter is a person, with her own opinions and her own perspective on things … including those things that we have in common. She loves books, but she likes different books from me. She loves clothes, but she doesn’t like wearing all the same things I do. (She also likes leaving her, and some of my, clothes on the floor, which gives me the vapours, but I digress.) Our convergences bring me joy but so, too, do our divergences. She is her own person, and getting to know that person is a delight and a privilege. She is constantly surprising me, testing and enriching my view of the world.

And that is the reality against which my childhood dream of “playing closet” with a confidant is unfolding. It’s fun and it’s challenging all at the same time because, unlike the imaginary sister I used to conjure up in my mind when I was young, my actual daughter isn’t always agreeable to playing by my rules. The things she wants to borrow from me are only sometimes the things I’m willing to lend, and almost never the things I would pick out for her. Her track record of returning things in a timely manner is spotty, and I expect it will only get worse with time. Occasionally, she asks for my opinion or help with her outfits, and sometimes she even implements it. I can foresee a day, in the not-so-distant future, when I’ll be on the receiving end of an (unsolicited) opinion on my outfit, and I am hard at work mentally preparing myself for that particular paradigm shift.

But I love it. I love seeing her explore her identity and her creativity. I love hearing her opinions, and the way in which she expresses them. It’s wonderful, and it’s bittersweet. She is my daughter and she is becoming herself. In the clothes we share, we have a common language. We are writing our story, but also our own stories. It’s not precisely what I had dreamed of, all those years ago — it’s infinitely better.