It is not very fashionable, au courant, hip, now, with it, happening, fly ... to be a rose fragrance lover. To many perfume aficionados, rose is so yesterday. On some, it manifests as the original Old Lady Fragrance. (AAACCCKKKKK! Composes self.)

Me, I love rose fragrances. I mean, I try to be discriminating ... but just about any slatternly overt rose fragrance can turn my head.

Of course, if it's a subtle and well balanced scent, ideally with some amber surfacing in it at some point, I'm even happier.

But I'm not that discriminating really.

So, this morning I pull out my box of rose samples (Lurid details: a large, square, tupperware-like container filled with florist foam, in which approximately 100 vials of scent are upended. And I have two more, just like this, with different kinds of perfume. Heh. That's like keeping a bunch of cats, isn't it. Well, I know people with a lot more cats. I mean, samples.)

I close my eyes, stick my hand in and pull out ... Keiko Mecheri Mogador.

The notes? Turkish rose, Bulgarian rose, Dades rose absolute AND night blooming jasmine. (I truly hope no day blooming jasmine found its way in here.)

It's nice. It's simple. It's an uncomplicated (to my simple nose) sweetly rosy scent cut through at the end with jasmine.

I think this was one of my "looking for love in all the wrong places" attempts to find Rich Hippie Wild Thing for less than $600 a bottle.

And this is very, very nice. Not Wild Thing. But nice.

I continue my search, but I'm smelling good as I do it. What can I tell you? I'm a rose-lovin' fool.