Costes

I find myself gravitating (back) to scents that I sampled or owned, in 2004-2005, and immediately, or later, ditched, despite the “niche”-hype surrounding them at the time. I wasn’t ready for the love of Costes yet, and so I sold my little 50ml bottle back then, after a few uses, and I eschewed my now-near-obsessive olfactory love, L’air du Desert, and also Idole....all released around the same time—2000–2005, great years for music, scent, design... I trip up memory lane a lot, not with regret, but with fondness...plus a dash of melancholy, which greases the cogs of creativity, that in turn, keep me from occasionally bashing my own head in. I’m revisiting Costes, with a 100ml bottle, as it’s not wallet-bustingly pricey, and I reapply it in near-soaking doses, because I love it with the same abandon that I douse myself in it. THIS is what a 19th century Turkish bath would smell like; copious armloads of lavender, pollinated by fat bees under a Spanish sun, Bulgarian rose petals so red, they’re almost black, spiky, grey-green bay leaves, steaming in clean wet cotton, until their cinnamon-oily aroma mingles with peppered smoke, trailing from hot stones and pine embers. Costes is simultaneously cool, warm, hot, demure, sexy, clean, spicy, deep, airy, feminine, masculine, a passionate sonnet in hushed tones; there’s literally NO ONE who couldn’t, or shouldn’t wear it; it’s universal, and although there are a few others in the same vein, it’s unlike anything else. You may not get noticed for its scent trail, but you’ll stand apart for the slight smile it will bring to play upon your lips. I can’t imagine what I didn’t like about it over a decade ago, but it may have had something to do with the intense, sweet bay (laurel) accord, as it instantly conjures the same image that L’air du Desert, and Idole, had: My late, and immensely missed father, who passed too soon, in 1978. He was the only person who ever loved me with abandon, unconditionally, and without question or judgement, enveloped my crooked spirit and body, wholly, in warmth, and although we had no money, I was more secure with him, my first love, than with any other human, and certainly than I ever was on my own. He was 6’5”, with dark, wavy hair and a beard, so handsome, very stylish, and he always smelled of Royal Copenhagen, Bay Rhum, Pierre Cardin, and a fragrance by Avon, that came in a novelty bottle, shaped like a pheasant—which, in hindsight, may have been too cheesy for him, but the contents were, just, Dad. He taught me how to never be bored, no matter how little money there is. It’s a sliver of days from the 40th anniversary of his death, and not a single, 24-hour period has passed in that time without my thinking of him. Yes, I tried, in my dry-well-bottom-scraping moments, to cut the threads that keep the memories sown into every pocket; mental clips that run fast and hot, like oil and meteor-tails. And not to “join” him, or to punish the living, or “end it”, whatever “it” is. No...it’s when you feel so small you could fit into a mailbox, that it seems an easy task to quiet the ghosts of regrets, maybes, and should-haves, and whys. Maybe it was my escape into the looking glass that’s the rolling green of England, feeling one ocean closer and one farther, or maybe I’m too tired to raise a fuss anymore, the time for re-opening well-licked wounds has passed, and I can see beyond my head and heart. Could it be that I’ve “found” myself, and it just doesn’t matter, and never did? Either way, I’m spinning a new web, holding memories, and the smells of them, like lamplight in my hands....illuminating my path, and if not loving, at least not dreading, every pebble in my shoe. And man, I smell great. Thanks for reading. Now go and get yourself some Costes.

Costes smells like an expensive and beautiful lavender infused gin. My partner had this. It reminds me of when I first met him. The Laurels come forward in a beautiful manner but the juniper and lavender are the stars of the show. the whole thing is very light and incensed and beautiful, Woodsy and floral. Im pleased to own a bottle myself now. Very beautiful. I found myself thinking about it often when his ran out. It makes me think of him. If I wasn't a collector it could be an easy signature. If I had bought this at the start of my journey it would have ended here. Incredible. Just a PSA If you buy a bottle. The 125ml on the website is a round neck. No spray. So keep that in mind. Its very traditional in its bottle design. The 100ml is a spray. The 125 is not. Same price for 25ml more but theres no spray. So im going to buy a pipette and a decanter. Or just use it traditionally.

Very cinnamon on me and my mom, we both love it, its a rich and deep perfume but all can smell is delicious spiced cinnamon and a little amber. I just ordered her her own bottle :) My roommate said it smelled just like big red and I completely see the resemblance, its the most spot on cinnamon gum I have ever smelled but the amber and sandalwood gives it a little grown up edge. If you are looking for something cinnamonny I suggest this! The room spray is much more masculine, less cinnamon and an entirely diff frag, I do not suggest, it is not as good as the edp.

Costes is like a spicy incense bar of soap. It smells like clove and musk, two of my favorite notes, so I am glad I stumbled upon it. I love the woody, herbal undertones. I can see why it is used to scent the hotel's own toiletries, as it smells like expensive soap and smells quite sexy. It's hard to imagine anybody finding Costes objectionable.

I found this gem when I was looking for something similar to Diptique L'Eau that I have fallen in love with, and which was unavailable when I tried to make a purchase. Costes Costes was recommended to me, and also, it was a love at first sniff. And I dont know what it is about it, but there is something that makes it a percect winter (and Christmas) scent. Costes for me is, above all, a wonderful, spicy rose. I love all sorts of roses, in Costes it is presented to us with an air of smokiness. The incense is not too strong, but it creates an aura of mystery. it makes me think of an old room with heavy, red curtains, dim light, jazz music coming from next room, quiet laughs, quick footsteps. Pepper and coriander are responsible for this spicy, dry feeling Costes has to it. Everytime I spray it on myself I think of gingerbread, but not the moist, chocolaty one; Costes is not gourmand. I think of Christmas tree, maybe because of th woody notes, I think of cheerful atmosphere, elegance, something refined. I would compare it to dry (red) wine- might not be to everyone's taste, I sometimes need something a bit sweeter, nevertheless, there are times when I am really enjoying it.