Mardi Gras
Olympic Orchids (2015)

There is so much going on with Mardi Gras that it is induced vertigo. Sugary casablanca lilies wrapped in sweat and beeswax, incontinent vanilla, furry butt covered in sticky benzoin and halitosis orange blossoms breathing heavily so that I feel under duress by this macabre pageant. It's oily dirty crust-punks having messy sex on a mattress imbued with stale spilled beer. Dirty, musty head shops selling incense sticks, some that have sat there since Clinton's first term in office.

There is a fine line between a fragrance that can strongly suggest dirty, carnal, and skanky and one that is just outright raunchy. This is raunchy. I can't dig it.

Mardi Gras is what I'd call a sexy-but-weird perfume. It's a floral for Goths and non-conformists. A quick read of the notes – vanilla, orange blossom, honey, civet, and benzoin – might make you think that this is going to be standard floral fare, but it's anything but. Rather than go the usual soapy and sugared route with orange blossom, Mardi Gras smears a fistful of withered, leathery flower petals over the dusty flagstones of a temple, allowing them to evaporate into the heat like spores off rotting fruit.

Anybody in love with the smell of aging wood, paper, and flagstone in ancient churches or castles will experience a thrill of recognition here; at times, the perfume seems resolutely un-floral, with a mustiness so deep it's capable of blocking out the orange blossom. At other times, powder puffs of honeyed civet poke through the orange blossom, turning it into a bathtub gin version of Bal à Versailles. Central to its character, I suspect, is benzoin, responsible for the spicy, medicated foot powder texture that makes it so unusual.

If you're in the market for a come-hither scent that's sexy in a slightly gritty, bohemian-messy way, then roll the dice on Mardi Gras. It's the kind of fragrance that's flashes its boobs at you whether you throw a necklace or not.

Oooh. Musk, citrus and powdery soft vanilla come out in an intoxicating opening. On the surface, there's a light-heartedness to this fragrance: orange blossom and florals and an airy, celebratory sweetness. But lurking in the background, that animalistic civet and incense: darker avenues in the backdrop await underneath. Like breathtaking Bat, Ellen Covey has a complex multilayered scent that's a two sided coin: a regal traditional Oriental fragrance combined with dark, raw notes in the base. As it begins to dry down, the neroli comes forward with the orange to brighten it a bit as the party reaches its climax and masks are unveiled, with dark dry woody notes remaining throughout.

The longevity on this is good: 6-7 hours. The projection on this is above average as well. I'm not usually a fan of the family of powdery Orientals, but to limit this fragrance to such a compartmentalized definition would not do it the justice it deserves. Perfectly unisex and perfect for just about any occasion. So good.

9/10