fruitybeauty

The Smelly Girl Club.

As we all know, one isn't a TRUE star until one has posed for an astronomically-priced photographer for a small bottle of scented liquid. This honour means you automatically become a member of the Smelly Girls Club, a kind of super elite club that's almost as highly regarded as the backseat of a high school bus.

So! Let's meet the new smelly girls!

Naomi Watts has just been signed on as the face of Thierry Mugler's Angel. Old mate Mugler is renown for splendid campaigns, so I quite look forward to seeing Wattsy in these ads. I personally smell like a small child who has been rolling around in icing sugar when I wear Angel, however, one of my friends wears it and it's hot as on her. I much much prefer his more recent scent, Alien.  It's sexy and uniquey and compliment getty.

  

Erykah Badu, probably one of my most adored singers, is set to be the face of Tom Ford's new scent. (Hope she reads that contract properly, Tom has quite the penchant for thighs and breasts and crotches in his ads. See here and here for the smutty proof, but be warned, these ads are 100 per cent NSFW.)

That delightful little pocket rocket, Audrey Tautou (Audrey Hepburn Version 2.0)  has just nicked Nicole Kidman's Chanel No. 5 crown. (Nicole probably knows where she lives, or has people that do, so, uh, Audrey, you'd better watch your back.)

Beryl Watson from Tasmania has been announced as the face of Prada's new fragrance, which is as yet unnamed.

On today's news, five women suddenly become very excited after reading fruitybeauty

Q: On a scale of one to 100 on how blown away was I by the 96 entries I got for this competition?

A: 96. (Four more fruits was all it would've taken, JUST FOUR MORE FRUITS.)

But really, I'm so thrilled, and chuffed and stoked that all of you took time to be clever and funny and enter. Thank you.

Ok. Now. Drum roll. (Or sausage roll, I don't mind.)

And the runners up-er-ers aare...

Two women in a bathroom:
(because we all know that the best compliments come from other women)

"You smell the way I always imagined an Italian love affair - exotic, sensual and highly addictive. May I have a spray?"

Posted by: michelle | September 19, 2007 at 05:19 PM

Smells like the sun

And oh so sweet,

Your scents so fun

We should meet.

It's intoxicating

This smell now owns me,

Don’t keep me waiting

Give me Missoni...

Posted by: Claire M | September 19, 2007 at 11:15 PM

From a stranger: "That fragrance should be worn by you and only you." Bliss.

Posted by: Susan | September 19, 2007 at 01:22 PM

Your bottom looks smaller in that scent.

Posted by: Art | September 20, 2007 at 11:03 PM

And the winner of the beautiful towel and fragrance combo iiiiis, (and shut up, it's not name bias, because I didn't judge the competition, Beverly did, so there)...

You passed... and I turned... for you had surely just emerged, intoxicatingly fresh, from crisp crystal waters; radiant as sunlight glinting from an aqua sea.

Posted by: Zoe Clark | September 21, 2007 at 08:01 AM

Now, my lucky little Missoni melons, send me an email with your address and we'll get this scent show on the road.

Wahoo, and again, to all of you, thank you.

A rub free zone.

What a dingin' response!
You're mad as for your Missoni, aren't you my little pipped and peely ones?
Almost time to announce for me to announce the winners, but until then, let me tell you of a big fat perfume NO NO NO NO.

I always, always see people do this:

Spray perfume, smell, rub wrists.

Here's one part that is right:

Spray perfume.

Here's another:

Smell.

Here's one that is wrong:

Rub wrists.

And here's why:

When you rub one wrist on another, you bruise all of those glorious, expensive, exquisite flowers that give the fragrance its unique scent. You kind of ruin the way its intended to slowly, gently unwind and reveal all of it's depth and beauty basically.

So don't rub.
No more rub.
Ban the rub.
Make your wrists (or neck) a rub free zone.

Margherita Missoni can swim in whatever she damn-well likes.

I get obsessed with people I've never even met sometimes.

Right now it's this little Italian pocket rocket, Margherita Missoni.

She's the heiress to one of my favourite brands, Versace, I mean Missoni, Missoni, she is a sartorial master, she hangs with her family a lot and takes pictures of herself with them because they're all wearing brightly-coloured knits and it's adorable, she's tight with Zac Posen, she can wear even the gaudiest of Missoni gear and makes it look ravishing, plus she's cute and looks friendly and has good hair, and you know, she's all cool and pretty and stuff.

Here she is with her mum Angela, Missoni's designer.
Hi Ange.

Anyway, you know she was the face of the first Missoni fragrance, right? (Hint: Yes, you do.)

Well, she's the face (and, uh, breasts) of the second too.

It's called Missoni Acqua, it's not out until September, but gosh, is it a beautiful summery juice. It smells like a cocktail by the sea and it will go real good with your tan sandals and your slinky little denim shorties, sugar.

Here's the new ad.



Ouch.
Sizzle.
Sizzle.
Sizzle.

The guys at Estee Lauder (Missoni fragrance's mum and dad) said that the shot was taken at the end of the shoot, when little Margie had had a gutful of the heat, and dived into the pool into her $10, 000 Missoni frock. (You can do that when your family owns the company, you know.)

They snapped it as she was getting out.

Clever marketing story or Just a Girl Who Looks Too Good When She Exits a Pool in Full Makeup and Evening Gown, I don't care: I am pro Margherita. I am pro Missoni. And I would very much like this Missoni rug for my birthday which is in nine days please.

Many thanks.

Mmm, what's that scent you're wearing?

Went to a Cardiac Arrest 30th on the weekend (surprise doesn't quite sum up how the poor little monkey reacted) and as you do, I got chatting to the girl next to me about beauty products.

Specifically, my chosen fragrance for the evening.

Her: Michael Kors, right?
Me : Yes!
Her: Know it anywhere. My favourite, too.
Me: You just get too many compliments not to wear it, don't you? My cab driver even commented on the way here. And Boyfriend, too.
Her: Agree.
Mother of Birthday Boy: Hi girls!
Me: Oh, hello Frances, say, amazing party you've thrown here. Wow. And, congrats on the secret staying secrety.
Julie: Thank you! Mmmm, what's that scent you're wearing?*
Me: Michael Kors.
Julie: Micheal who?
Me: Kors.
Leans down to sniff me a little closer.
Julie: It's exquisite! Is that tuberose?
Me: Good game woman! Well spotted!
Julie: Jack! Come here please.
Jack shuffles over, scotch in hand.
Julie: Can you smell that? I would like this perfume for my birthday please.
Jack awkwardly smells the wrist I hold out.
Jack: 'Snice. Get the name.
Julie: Micheal Kor.
Me: Kors.
Julie: It's just beautiful, isn't it Ja-
Jack, having lost interest has already started walking away.
Me: You'll never get so many compliments as with this perfume. Seriously. It's mental.
Julie: Ooh, Karen's arrived!...
Walks away.
Her: Hey, can I ask which mascara you're wearing?
Me: YSL False Lashes, it's amazing, I just discovered it, you just do a coat and your eyes go..
Her/Me: Bing!
Her: I KNOW! How GOOD is it?
Me: So good.

Of course, we started discussing carbon emissions and quantum physics shortly after.
Shut UP, we did!

*Note: She is clearly a lady of class and elegance, for it is perfect etiquette to ask which "scent" someone is wearing, over which "perfume". I learned that in my Debrett's Guide To Etiquette book last night. I suggest we all take it on board.

SJP Covet: One phone call is all you get.

S to the J to the P's first scent, Lovely, went ballistic. But I don't need to tell you guys that, you were the ones who couldn't get enough of that sweet musky stuff.

Well, hold on to your custard apples, because her follow-up fragrance Covet, (latin for 'Christian Lacroix Haute Couture-dressed criminal') will be on sale July 23. And, you know what, it's a really nice juice. Cause I was sent it to photograph for The Magazine, and when I tested it so I could write about it, its sexy, fruity flavour lasted on my arm all, all day. But more on the juice when it's on sale, cause teasing is a revolting thing to do. (Also, the bottle is unreal - the lid is like a wee, jewelled bracelet for the bottle. Adorable.)

Oh look! The campaign!

Go SJ, GO! Break that glass with your heel and GET THAT PERFUME. After all, you made it and it's got your name on it.

Ohmygosh: You got caught?... You're in prison?.... Well, this is awkward. I mean, you're a mother for goodness sake! What will become of your children? Why won't SOMEBODY THINK OF THE CHILDREN! Ok. Get a grip, let's all just get a grip. Ok. You should probably call Matthew. And stop looking so happy! The press will be onto this any moment, and let me tell you, it will not be good for your career young lady. Remember what happened to Winona? Yes, well. Let us learn from that. Don't expect 'Free SJP' t-shirts as a rite of passage, either.

The bendy bits.

After yesterday's post about naughty neck spraying, some fruits wanted to know where they're allowed to spray their fragrance, seeing as though necks (sun damage) and clothes (the alcohol in the juice can stain and interfere with the dyes in your pretty threads) and hair (dries it out) are out.

I'll tell you where.
It's the Bendy Bits.

Wrists.
Behind the knees.
Ankles.
Inside the elbows.
Probably not under the arms as it may irritate the skin there, which you shave and wax and IPL and laser.
Neck (if it's night time or you dab right up behind your ears).
Waist, as one fruit suggested and which I liked.

Why we do this, is because Bendy Bits tend to be warm areas, (wrists aside) and perfume lasts longer when it's applied on warm areas. You'll diffuse the scent nicely all throughout the day if you do Bendy Bits. And hey, don't discount the knees and ankles because when your scent wears off your wrists and the thin skin behind your ears, your leglets will keep the dream alive.

All this talk of perfume makes me want to bring up my Juice of The Moment: Badgley Mischka.

It's the first foray into fragrance by the Olsen's designers of choice, Mark Badgley and James Mischka. It's a lush, spicy, warm, foody fragrance and has notes of caramel, peach, wild berries, amber, patchouli and jasmine among others, and work mates and Boyfriend like it much. (Which counts. A lot.)

I fear it's not on sale yet, but keep an eye out for it fruits, as it's a roaring CG (Compliments Getter.)

You don't spray perfume on your NECK, do you?

Well, not in the day time at least.
I sincerely hope not.

Why?

Because get this: When  you spray perfume on your neck, and the sun hits it, you may as well have a neon sign up to the sun saying:

Please burn me and cause skin cancer and cause pigmentation! I would love you to! Pleeeease? I long for a neck that is shriveled and has brown spots! I would like nothing more than for people to mistake me for a wild turkey! I want more neck wrinkles! PLEASE, SUN, WON'T YOU GIVE ME JUST THIS ONE, SMALL, FAVOUR?!

I learned this scary fact from a wonderful facialist called Nicole B-Kovacs, who is the head trainer magician person at Gatineau and who gives the kind of facial that makes you float out of the room, only without the actual feet off the floor part.

The reason is because perfume has alcohol in it, which attracts the sun and magnifies its burning and aging effect. Think about it - you happily spritz your juice on your neck, you drive your car or walk to the shops and bang, without you even knowing, your lovely new fragrance is amplifying the sun's already terrible effect on your sweet, delicate neck skin. (And you know how I feel about the neck and chest - treat it as though it were your face.)

Nasty little combo, sun and perfume.
You can still do it at night, of course, but through the day if you're going to be outside?
Uh-uh.
Nope.
Not any more, champ.

The Duff's perfume: Iz nayce.

Sniffed out Hilary's perfume yet? No? FOOL.

Carn, giyse a kiss, Darl.

"
* Retail version of perfume is obviously not this size. It's bigger.


"Darl" is precisly what one Kylie Minogue doesn't want her first dabble into fragrance, Darling, to be abbreviated to. But understands it may happen.

Cause, y'know, she's 'Strayan; we're 'Strayan, and even though Darl's right up there with 'Pet' and 'Sweetart' as one of the most Irritating Nicknames People Give To Other People that Sometimes They Don't Even Know And Are Merely Selling a Newspaper To, chances are, someone out there, probably someone wearing elasticised clothing and minimal rubber footwear, will call her fragrance Darl.

Bless them in their totally innocent devastation of her perfume's name. They mean no harm.

I had the luck/pleasure/fun of frolicking to a super luxe mansion in the real posh like area of Sydney for the launch of Darling last night. We even got driven to the secret location in a convoy of tricycles!

Vans, vans, I mean vans.

Kylie was there, which was the Very Exciting Part, and she glowed as she stood on stage in front of an audience full of women that have secretly loved every single song she has ever released and probably danced to most of the inappropriately at family weddings, too.

We were an easy audience, you might say. Except for the man up the back who aggressively demanded to know why the fragrance wasn't called Locomotion. I'm lying. There was no such man.

She wasn't on stage for long.
She is little and radiant.
She was very girly and self-deprecating.
She had Definitely Excellent dark nail polish on.

I had already smelled the juice a while back because Coty sent me one to shoot and then send straight-back-immediately-if-not-sooner, but i'd forgotten what it smelled like, other than 'nice'.

It's sweet. It's violently wearable, in the way you could buy it for your sister for Christmas and she'll wear it, unlike that nasty fake Red Door you bought her from Perfume Bargains last year. It's a floral, but not one of those pansy florals. No, this is the kind that might order a steak sandwhich at  the pub. I know we're not supposed to play comparisons, but it kind of, a little bit reminded me of Curious.

I like it.

And if i didn't leave it in its shiny holographic box on my lounge, i'd have worn it today.

Because no one else has it yet.

And i'm the kind of chump who gets excited by that.