Cosmic Harmonies

When Solange Azagury Patridge came out with her first perfume, Stoned, I was curious to sample it. It-jeweller to the London stars Elton John, David Furnish and Bella Freud and creative director for Boucheron, Solange had all the makings of a hip-celeb in her respective field and the news of her launching a fragrance seemed like a nice idea for someone who had obviously good taste and an eye for imaginative design in jewellery. Then I learned the name of the scent: Stoned. It recalled images of Amy Winehouse, not of glamour. Let's just say it wasn't very appealing, even though I belatedly found out it was simply named thus for a girl who likes stones. Heftily priced/prized ones, that is...
Later on I found out it actually had finely milled diamond-dust in it. And on the heels of that, the price. OK, by then I was ready to hate it! But surprisingly it was not a bad perfume, this smooth oriental, even if lots of the money asked went to the bottle and the diamond dust. Stoned took a year to break even, business speaking, which in light of the above hardly comes as a surprise, does it.

Now Cosmic came to the scene and it was rumoured to be a modern chypre. This got me in a mode of at leasting wanting to try. Both Solange scents were developed by Lynn Harris of Miller Harris, which to me ensured at least a standard of quality ingredients and concept.
The name Cosmic is taken from the Cosmic zodiac jewellery collection by Solange in which each piece is unique.
Of course again the bottle and the name suggest something that is otherwordly to what is actually hiding in the bottle: a likeable green velvety skin-scent. What I mean by a skin scent: not that the fragrance reminds of the smell of your-skin-but-better, that alloy of synthetic musks that is so favoured in very recent perfumery. No, I mean that it stays close to the skin and doesn't project like some extraterrestrial entity that has landed on you proclaiming its scheme to conquer the earth. It's too well-mannered for that.


According to Solange:

A shooting star falls to earth revealing its meteoric and potent charms. Following on from her parfum Stoned, Solange has thrown her imagination out to the furthest corners of the universe and created the exquisite Cosmic-- an intergalactic liquid jewel enclosed in a star-faceted silver orb. The bottle's shimmering surface glints and winks from every angle, literally a Cosmic addition to every girl’s dressing table.

Cosmic is a modern Chypre that weaves together a milky-way of magical essences, combining Solange’s own sweet candy accord with an airy top note of bergamot, sparkling aldehydes and galbanum. The heart of the fragrance beats with classic blossoming rose, jasmine absolute and rare iris. Base notes of earthy vetiver, opoponax from Peru, myrrh from Somalia, and sweetly addictive vanilla add layers of sensual aroma. To further embellish these earth-based substances, Meteorites have been specially ground down to create a fine Stardust for the fragrance. The heady combination of essence, cosmos and ether simply takes you out of this world...

Cosmic by Solange goes into its own little twists and turns keeping a smooth harmony in which it's hard to discern particular ingredients, they're weaved in tightly. Initially there is the herbal hit of galbanum with a minty overlay of aldehydic sparkle, seguing on to a smooth lightly sweeted heart of soft heaps of flowers. One would be hard-pressed to pinpoint their little heads. The sweetness reminds me of ionones (gamma-methylionone, alpha-ionone)and mint leaves on a cool champagne sorbet, melting into a serene moment to yourself. You might be contemplating the stars or wondering how your lucky stars might help you actually buy this indulgence.
In a way Cosmic has traces of both Satyr by Armando Martinez and Alice in Wonderland by Konstantin Mihov, two indie perfumers which have been featured in these pages; and perhaps also a shade of Maboussin, another fragrance issued by jewellers.
In Cosmic the smoothness and sweetness are rounding out the initial jolt of galbanum and are beautifully accompagnied by the persistence of a little resin and earthy notes such as vetiver and patchouli like a basso continuo you find yourself noticing more and more.
I call this success, don't you?


Cosmic notes
Bergamot, Galbanum, Rose, Jasmine Absolute, Iris Absolute, Patchouli, Vetiver, Labdanum, Opoponax, Myrrh, Vanilla

Cosmic comes in a silvery metallic star-embossed bottle of Eau de Parfum 50ml/1.7oz and retails at 200 euros or 285$.
Cosmic is available at First in Fragrance and Luckyscent.




Following posts will feature lots of surprises and articles inspired by my trips. Stay tuned!

Pic of moons sent to me by mail unaacredited. Pic of bottles: Stoned on the left, Cosmic on the right, from official Solange site.

Jacques Polge for Chanel

A clip with Jacques Polge, in-house perfumer of Chanel, in which he explains the necessity of perfume.
You can also see the procedure of securing the neck of the extrait de parfum bottles with thread and a wax seal, properly called baudruchage (the coiling of the silk thread),barbichage and brossage (the following steps into securing the neck and seperating the ends of the thread). The whole process might take up to an hour.



Please check back later for the first blog review of Solange Cosmic.

Clip through Captain Lucas Inc.

Montana Parfum de Peau: fragrance review

On an ordinary morning on an ordinary weekday in Paris this past June, a rumour started to ripple through the mirrored design studios, the gilded, glossy magazine offices and the cramped workrooms of the French fashion industry. "Have you heard?" whispered voices ominous with impending ill news."The police found a body on Rue de Bellechasse this morning." "Have you heard?" they whispered, "about the death of Wallis Montana?"

~ Marion Hurne, Node Magazine Australia August/September 1996

Parfum de Peau, also known as Montana de Montana, as was its original name, is usually described as sexy, assertive, dirty, and sultry. It is all those things! But it is also tinged with tragedy as it was inspired by style guru Wallis Francken and the strange androgyny of her public persona. Together with Claude, they formed a weird couple and this is a weird perfume that can be easily imagined to be worn by people who love making a statement.
Almost unsufferably potent and single-minded in its assault, Parfum de Peau was given to me as a gift when I was a teenager. I wonder if the gifter was trying to tell me something. Because this zest has stuck. Did I always project a certain drama? Was that drama merely a plea for attention like every dutiful teenager does? All I remember is behind its bursting, blinding fruitiness peppered with spice it taught me what a furry little animal smells like when it’s hot and it lies dead on the street and one has the strange craving to go pick it up and lull it to sleep. There is the bitter and sweet odour of Thanatos which weaves such a strange net to lure us into a false sense of security.

Claude Montana, “king of the shoulder pads” and butch leather-man wearer is half-Spanish, half-German and began his career as a jewelry maker that got him recognition through Vogue coverage; that in turn helped him settle for a job at cutting and grading leathers at McDouglas, a Parisian firm in 1970. It would take some shows at Angelina’s Tea Room until he would start his own company in 1979 designing Amazonian, emasculating clothes for women. Those caused some ruckus with their inferred image of being reminiscent of Nazi uniforms. The Constructivism risus sardonicus that runs through his collections animates gyrating proportions with the addition of a peplum over narrow, wasp-waisted skirts. He greatly admired Mme Gres and Balenciaga which comes as no surprise. That kind of trapeze designs with the emphasis on shoulders and the power with which a silhouette moves in them was both reflected and bouncing back in his personal life.

His 1989 admission "I'm like a battlefield inside, a mass of contradictions" merely confirms the rumours of erratic behaviour and troubled inner life. He had married his muse, the German-American angular model Wallis Franken, 18 years after meeting her, when they were both 43. She, already a mother and a grandmother, always striking, always rail thin, knew all about the strange affairs of Claude. That warm July day, three years before the tragedy, she “gave up and yielded and went to Susa on foot to the monarch Artaxerxes”: she went on to be a wife ~"Oh, you know, cooking in the kitchen, fixing the dinner, lighting the candles..."
She was decked in an organza pant suit and white cowboy boots on that day. She was a vision.

What happened still remains a mystery: Wallis fell out of the balcony. Pushed or not? Out of her own accord or due to drug intoxication? The grim underbelly of fashion life in ne plus ultra Paris was just a hair away from being revealed. But it never did. It remained an agreement of silence: hushed, whispered in corridors but never out in the open.
What remains is one of her last public performances as an extra in the Madonna clip Justify my Love shot by Jean-Baptiste Mondino at Hôtel Ritz in Paris. I can smell the atmosphere in those rooms ~they reek of Parfum de Peau; they reek of contradiction and need; they reek of the desire to transcend death.

{Warning: uncensored version; unsuitable for office enviroment!}

(uploaded by nicubuleasa)

Parfum de Peau was originally composed in 1986 by Jean Guichard (Fifi, Deci Dela, Obsession, Loulou, Eau d’Eden) and was later reformulated with synthetic castoreum by the great Edouard Flechier (Poison, Tendre Poison, Une Rose, Lys Méditerranée, C’est la Vie). Not to be confused with the second feminine perfume of the house, Parfum d’Elle (1989) in a similar, shorter bottle.
The original Montana de Montana came in a breathtaking, award-winning helix-shaped bottle designed by Serge Mansau, inspired by the swirling fall of a winged sycamore seed as seen by a strobe light. It was encased in a cobalt blue box in both Eau de Toilette and Eau de Parfum versions.
The older versions had a packaging with the name Montana writ big, while the newer versions have a silhouette torse recalling the bottle on the outside of the box in orange, with the name Montana in smaller script underneath it.

Notes: green note, pepper, cassis, plum, peach, cardamom, ginger, rose, carnation, sandalwood, jasmine, tuberose, yalng-ylang, narcissus, patchouli, castoreum, civet, vetiver, olibanum, musk, amber.


Collage of Wallis Francken originally uploaded by Superchic1966 at Msn groups. Pic of ad from parfum de pub.

A poem ouverture...

As I was thinking about perfumed matters in general and Parfum de Peau in particular (whose review will run shortly, check back later on!), with its very relevant maladjusted story behind its creators, a poem by a well-loved voice whispered to my ear...

The Satrapy

What a misfortune, although you are made
for fine and great works
this unjust fate of yours always
denies you encouragement and success;
that base customs should block you;
and pettiness and indifference.
And how terrible the day when you yield
(the day when you give up and yield),
and you leave on foot for Susa,
and you go to the monarch Artaxerxes
who favorably places you in his court,
and offers you satrapies and the like.
And you accept them with despair
these things that you do not want.
Your soul seeks other things, weeps for other things;
the praise of the public and the Sophists,
the hard-won and inestimable Well Done;
the Agora, the Theater, and the Laurels.
How can Artaxerxes give you these,
where will you find these in a satrapy;
and what life can you live without these.

~Constantine P. Cavafy (1910)

Originally uploaded on this page.

Leather Series 11: the Big Bruisers

Perfume directions often go the way of fashion trends and lifestyle choices, which sometimes translates as going the way of the dodo, and this is nowhere more obvious than in the leather scents that emerged in the late 70s and during the 80s. After the brief optimism of the mid-60s, the world entered a grim period of oil crisis, economic downfall and the threat of the planet suffering nuclear annihilation. So what emerged from this situation? Consumerism, the cult of the ego, striving for quick wealth and excessive partying all rolled into one big cigar! Bret Easton Ellis wasn’t far off in his American Psycho: there was some degree of paranoia running through the course of that era and the leathery scents that graced it partook of it in some degree.

Many of those big, nasty bruisers that emerged owe a lot to the intense patchouli high of such scents as Aramis (1965). Composed by Bernand Chant who would follow with equally patchouli-laden Aromatics Elixir, Aramis, arguably the male version of same nose’s oeuvre Cabochard, made it OK to leave a bombastic luxurious sillage announcing itself in Wagnerian ouvertures that demanded their own Brunhilde following.

But it was Estée Lauder’s Azurée which was continuing the noble lineage of leathers in 1969. With its rather masculine edge despite its feminine gardenia aspirations, submerged into deceptive aldehydes or cyclamen and jasmine aromas, it opens on dark, musty oakmoss that grabs you and makes you pay attention. In a way though its leatheriness does not possess the striking green slap-across-the-cheek of Bandit or the smooth caress of a gloved hand that is Diorling; resulting in diminished revenue in today’s currency.

Caron’s Yatagan by nez Vincent Marcello came out in 1976 to a striking ad campaign brandishing a man with a giant curved Ottoman sword, the yatagan in question. On a par with Djedi in its uniqueness and otherworldiness it conjures up visions of fierce Tatars roaming through the steppes, stomping over jade artemisia and dark pine needles and keeping the meat for their meal under the saddle, imbuing it with the horse’s dense sweat. Its odour of livestock is peculiar, in an accord with liquor that has gone rancid. The culinary image of steak tartare with its weird vibe of sour, bitter and metallic is embossed in the fluxes of memory and never fails to raise its head when I am thinking about this arresting, avant-garde and trully brave scent which inspired and is still inspiring many niche perfumers, even today.

One of the first masculine scents I purposely tried to locate and wear was Jules by Christian Dior. It came out in 1980 and for years it kept a low profile saleswise, until suddenly it stopped being carried by my local store. It was at that minute that the quest for it became an impossibility and therefore (predictably) a semi-obsession: how could they do this to me? Discontinue it when I hadn’t even paid enough attention to it in its darkly aged-tobacco-ish flacon? It was de trop! I was determined to locate it! Of course decisions and determination often culminate in materialisation years later and such was the case with Jules. My encounter with it was sudden, brisk and like seeing a familiar face which I hadn’t thought of for a long time: Cuir de Russie amped up via a peppery accord like bell peppers getting cut in front of me.

Cartier made their own pilgrimage in 1981 through the cult of the watch: the leather wristbands of their Santos watches, inspired by aviator Santos Dumont, and on a second level the bomber jackets of the first days of aviation gave cue to Santos the fragrance. One of my personal favourites it is perhaps too butch, yet its mesmerising nutmeg and cumin spice pas de deux hidden in the effluvium of dark and dank patchouli and rich castoreum never fail to captivate me. Strange as it might sound, Santos has all too often served as a personal ambience scent for centering: How many happy hours have I stooped over historical documents and textbooks trying to think of this or that relation between cause and effect while the gentle remnants of Santos on little silk cushions were wafting their magic…
Santos was followed with many flankers, one of the most memorable ones being the Concentrée version which mollifies the spice duo and renders the greener aspect more intense.

But Santos was not alone: that same year Chanel gave Jacques Polge the brief to come up with a new masculine that would make waves and he succeeded with the intense sweaty macho maleness of Antaeus with its unusual honeycomb accord in the deep drydown and the strength of its mythological inspiration.

On the vein of the intense Van Cleef & Arpels homme, Trussardi Uomo (which came out in 1983) was for one brief moon the scent of choice of my father, its crocodile-print flask bottle garnering pride of place on the bathroom sill. Spice along with tobacco is prominent in this one as well, highlighting my predilection for such materials, with a passing touch of serene incense. But on re-smelling the fragrance for the purposes of this article I came upon a distinctly sour note that has a pin-and-needles effect up the nostrils which I didn’t recall in my father’s morning ritual. A little research quickly yielded its unsavoury results: there has been a reformulation which happened around 1995 when the bottles were redesigned. Too bad!

Guerlain is no stranger to leather and Derby, a masculine leather fougère, is one of the most elegant and debonair fragrances in the genre one could hope for. First issued in 1985 by nose Jean Paul Guerlain, it got re-issued for the removation of La Boutique Guerlain in 2005 to great and deserved critical acclaim. The leather notes rest atop the moss and minty herbs, with a very thick, spicy clove introduction. After some time a floral phase of carnation and jasmine peek under the clove and give a smooth richness that then goes into the forest floor of a traditional men’s fougère and the leather note of a battered jacket that has withstood the elements in a battle at some far away place.

The less controversial Bel Ami by Hermès was brought out in 1986 and it placed leather firmly in the map with all the determination of the purveyors of fine saddles since 1837. Leather was cool by then. It wasn’t the mark of the daring individual a la Yatagan, but a distinguished mark of sophistication all over again.

But the two most legendary ones are intended for women: Paco Rabanne’s long defunct La Nuit (1985) and Claude Montana’s Parfum de Peau (1986). The quintessential bruisers, both scents sport an unapologetic dash of panache which prowls across the room, across the corridor and probably over down the street as well.
As to La Nuit and its amazing drydown despite the unasuming opening, I am leaving you to enraptured Luca Turin on his take ~which probably caused a stampede to try and locate some of the elusive juice:

“This is the warmest, sultriest perfume imaginable. To think I hated it when it came out ! My extenuating circumstance was that at the time (1985) I lived in Nice, where women can be toe-curlingly vulgar, and it was a big hit. La Nuit is probably the most animalic perfume ever made by a major firm, and I don’t just mean musky à la Koublai Khan, or castoreum as in Tabac Blond, but something beyond that, almost urinous/sweaty, “wrong” and truly wonderful. Spray Tabu on a horse, and you’ll get the idea. I wrote a disparaging review of it in 1992, apologized for it in 1994 and only recently treated myself to a bottle. Now that the Niçoises have moved on, I see it for what it was all along: the sexiest fragrance since Cabochard”.

Parfum de Peau was my major introduction to castoreum, of which it features copious amounts, and thus merits its own full review shortly.

Pic of Glen Ford originally uploaded by spuzzlightyear on livejournal. Pic of La Nuit and Jules ads courtesy of parfum de pub.

Winner announcement!

Ooops, I forgot! I have to announce the winner for the Quiz from last week.

The winner is DONANICOLA who nailed it with her first guess. Congrats! Send me your data, please, so I can mail a decant of the vintage I have on hand to try it out.
The fragrance in question was indeed Parure: from the venerable house of Guerlain, reformulated sometime during the last few years and then very recently discontinued altogether. It is also the signature scent of Kim Catrall and belongs to a family I enjoy: chypres.

Thanks for participating and for the wonderfully clever guesses.
Stay tuned for the next one! ;-)

What fragrance would these Oscar winners wear?

You do realise this is a post from the storehouse, don't you! What I mean: Oscar weekend came and went by the time you'll be reading this and I have no idea what fragrances the Oscar winners and nominees for 2008 chose to wear and if they were their favourites, but it had seemed a great idea to me last week. The Yahoo movie page must be filled with all the details about the winners by now (hope my pics did them justice) and the world will be abuzz with the fashion choices of the celebrities. Perfume Shrine couldn't ignore this little bonfire of the vanities...

In a way it's become unglamorous. Like Julie Christie exclaimed:

"It's product placement now. 'Who are you wearing, from where have you borrowed your jewels?' I don't know where the 'glamour' is in admitting you've borrowed your jewelry, or you've been put together by a stylist. How about not wearing jewels? Would that be so terrible? And what's wrong with fakes? They glitter, that's the point, isn't it?"

Herself she proudly wears two antique rings of unidentified make.


I have to admit she does have a point! For someone who is so level-headed about it, despite her enormous body of work and being a 60s icon, I was always curious to find out what fragrance she wears. This is one of the most famous and popular Perfume Shrine projects. Alas, she has never divulged. And so we are left to our own devices to choose one for her!
It's rather interesting that a famous Dior commercial, J'adore ~with Charlize Theron dropping her clothes one by one entering that mansion~ is directly inspired by a famous Julie Christie scene in the film "Darling". But this is not the fragrance I would imagine Julie to revel in. For her very feminine personality I imagine her in something sensuous, deeply floral loaded with reminiscences, like Estee Lauder Private Collection Tuberose Gardenia. Or Boucheron Femme.

Marion Cotillard is such a cute gamine face that I bet one of those petulant but nice, perky fragrances with a little twist, would suit her to a T.
I propose to you (and her!) Passage d'enfer, an incense executed in watercolours, the savoury/sweet Pleasures Delight or the ultra-cosy Amber Splash by Marc Jacobs. Her own favourite however is Après l'Ondée, which is so wonderful melancholic...
However her role in La Vie en Rose would demand at least some identification with the character of Edith Piaf or -am I very unimaginative in suggesting this?- some rosiness. For her ethereal physique and sprity spirit I would love to propose Un Zest de Rose by Les Parfums de Rosine as a fitting scent.

When it comes to Cate Blanchett, one is spoilt for choice as she has expressed fondness for a whole array of perfumes from the enigmatically mossy Aromatics Elixir to crowd pleaser gourmand Burberry Brit, to the more individual Mure et Musc by L'artisan and Kisu by Tann Roka.

Ellen Page and Laura Linney on the other hand are entities unknown to the demystifying of their fragrance choices world. The former is very new in the game, while the latter is probably not much in the celebrity watch radar to register as an endorser of perfumes. But she did grace the Donna Karan Gold party launch and I would think that she grabbed a goody bag or two. Which might serve her rather well: What do you think?

Men nominees and winners are even more difficult to assign fragrances to. Basically because, despite their outstanding thespian qualities, three out of five are either too unglamorous for such concepts (Tommy Lee Jones) or too immersed into their own little indie universe (Daniel Day Lewis, Viggo Mortensen). However, there are some established favourites for two of them: Zino by Davidoff for Johnny Depp whereas George Clooney has admitted to a predilection for Io Carthusia and Green Irish Tweed.
Which is rather fun.

I don't know if these tidbits of info add or detract from these Oscar actors' and actresses' allure, but you're free to suggest what they should wear in your opinion! I am looking forward to reading your views and comments on Oscars' night.


Hold the press (just saw this!): please take a minute to check The Non-Blonde for witty and pithy commentary on the Oscars.

Pic of Daniel Day Lewis courtesy of Moviemarket. Pics of Julie Christie and Mario Cottilard originally uploaded on MUA. Pic of Johhny Depp sent to me by email unnacredited.

I'm back!

It has been simply fab albeit tiring. The Quiz is closed and thank you for your participation and your very clever guesses! It was a joy skimming through them.


Please check back later for an announcement on the winner and a post for the day which I hope you will find fun!

Sailing off for a bit...and a Quiz

Poised like a lady with a trunk between travel and work, so there is no review or fragrant article for Friday. But that does not mean that I will neglect Perfume Shrine! The agenda is filled with things to experience and I am looking forward to sharing some of the fascinating things that will fill my next few days, upon my return.

In the interim, to thank you for the dedication which you have shown and the impressive pick up in hits, I have a LUCKY QUIZ for you which will demand your creative guessing and which will award the winner with a decant of the precious fragrance in question.
I smelled it after a long time on a supremely elegant colleague, while we were having a spot of unruly weather these past few days, and it brought back all the wonderful feelings I had of it. I don't know why I had been neglecting it myself! It's from a well-known house, quite unusual, has been reformulated and ultimately discontinued (NB: it has no relation to the pic).

Cast your votes then (as many as you want! the quiz will run till I get back) and if Internet connection doesn't fail me, I will check back to perhaps give an additional clue and declare the lucky winner.

So the game is afoot! Best of luck!

Pic Lady with a Trunk by lemank/flickr

Almost a Miss ~Miss Balmain by Balmain: fragrance review

"Did I disappoint you or let you down?
Should I be feeling guilty or let the judges frown?
'Cause I saw the end before we'd begun,
Yes, I saw you were blinded and I knew I had won.
So I took what's mine by eternal right.
Shared your dreams and shared your bed. I know you well, I know your smell".

~James Blunt, Goodbye my lover

A name that combines two contrasting elements : the girly (Miss) and the chic (the Balmain house, the one who dressed Katherine Hepburn, Marlene Dietrich, and Brigitte Bardot, no less): Miss Balmain.
This fragrance by Harry Cutler is "girly" however only in the sense that it has an eternal playfulness in its intentions , not in its smell. Unless one is magically transported back in the 60's ~since this was created in 1967: the Summer of Love, the summer of anything is possible. And oh, didn't you love your defunct innocence!

However, chic and simultaneously quirky it definitely remains. A young gal with a mischievous animalisric wink, ready to drop her knickers at the sound of a good riff and roll on the fluffy carpet laughing the big O.
An "It" girl is donning her new nappa leather jacket of tabac-coloured smooth material (the castoreum ,leather and patchouli note) alongside her light=coloured mini skirt and kitten-heeled slingbacks with bright daisies on them (the fresh and prim coriander paired with aldehydes and citrus). She fumbles with her long, loose scarf at the neck, it bothers her, so off it goes soon leaving her young sternum bare (the smooth florals of gardenia and jonquil).

What remains is a younger interpretation of both Cabochard and Miss Dior ~at least the vintage compositions.
Miss Balmain is less strident in the opening to me, less potent in the drydown than either, but not less valued nonetheless. The shock is a mirage revealed in a tear: the girl is not promiscuous and comes from good stock.

Would it be something of a signature scent? Not for me, it wouldn't. Too difficult to pull off in hot weather or casual surroundings alongside girls with pierced navels wearing hoodies, despite its playful character. And for those occassions when one wants to stand apart and confirm one's aloofness and defiance one might as well go after the artilery of uber-feminine Cabochard or prickly Bandit. But for light amunition that is really more vulnerable than what one might think, I'd love to designate it to Penny Lane. Which is so very 1967...


(uploaded by nemivicious)

Pic of Lou Doillon courtesy of Hollywood celebrity pics

Lament for a Fragrance in Sepia ~Cabochard by Gres: fragrance review

“Headstrong” or “stubborn” is not the first thing that comes to mind when I contemplate on my mother’s personality. Yet it was the formidable, petulant perfume thus named, Cabochard, that had won her heart and ~along with Dioressence~ became her insignia. The Grecian-inspired fluted designs of Madame Grès which were cut directly on the body would have suited the Dorian drama of her beauty. Her dreamy flair for romanticism however betrayed appearences and made a fascinating juxtaposition with her bombshell fragrances. Thus the merest whiff out of her now almost empty bottle never fails to bring back poignant memories of my childhood with a Proustian rush. Talking about it dews my eyes like writing the obituary on an era: trying to recapture those sepia memories like a faded vignette is doomed to fail due to the fragrance being irrecovably changed.

Cabochard comes from the old French word “caboche”, meaning "headstrong" or "self-willed", according to the Petit Robert dictionary. It was Alix Grès, neé Germaine Emilie Krebs and formally trained as a sculptress, who opted for it, to accompany the independent nature of her couture. Alix Barton was her first business pseydonum. But she later took her husband’s ~Serge Czerefkov, a Russian painter ~ first name and with a partial anagram settled on Grès, opening la maison Grès in 1942, amidst the German occupation of Paris. Soon she was dressing everyone, from the Dutchess of Windsor to Marlen Dietrich and Greta Garbo.

The story of creating Cabochard
The credit into making Cabochard a success is attributed to Guy Leyssène, who met Madame Grès at a dinner part two years prior to the perfume’s launch, per Michael Edwards. It was Guy's suggestion that she should issue one because it was a profitable enterprise which all the other fashion designers of the times had embarked on. It took only a month for Grès to ask him to help her create her own perfume. {interestingly, according to history of fashion.com the first perfume was called Muse in 1946}. However, nothing is as simple as it might look. "Cabochard is a miracle of complexity […] the secret life of a Parisian woman with no age and no illusions" wrote Luca Turin about its scent in 1994 and its story is just as complex.

The perfume that was in works was a composition by legendary perfumer Guy Robert, called Chouda. Robert was young and under the guidance of mentor Andrée Castanié, then editor of L'Officiel de la Mode et de la Couture, had been introduced to Mme Grès in 1956. But it took a trip to India, the land of exoticism, which prompted Alix Grès to further her plans on the house’s fragrance. The visit had begun innocuously, invited by the Ford Foundation to assess Indian brocades. It was there that Alix Grès discovered water hyacinth: a flower she became enraptured with. It has a sweet odour, rich like tuberose, yet with a fresher top and slightly warmer. The experimentation of Guy Robert yeilded rich fruits: Alix loved it, however Chouda was almost exclusively used by her (only five litres of Chouda were ever made) as it was too flowery for the tastes of the 50s which veered towards classic chypres. She launched another fragrance under the pressure of public input: the mod of what was to become Cabochard, made by Bernand Chant of IFF, was received much more favourably and thus the plan to push Chouda was ultimately abandoned, although the two were issued almost simultaneously in 1959. It comes as a surprise that there were focus groups even back then, but it is a fact that puts things into perspective: public reception is (and will always be) the moniker of how things work in a sector that, although hinges on art, is also largely a business.


The story of the bottle for Cabochard, as well as Chouda, is also extraordinary in that it was the already made and discarded stock of Guighard, a small glass manufacturer later acquired by Pochet. They had made the bottles for another company who never bought them and in order to save costs, Grès bought all 500 of them for both perfumes. The difference was the little bow that adorned the pharmaceutical stopper: grey for Cabochard, green for Chouda. The Cabochard success (it sold 250 bottles in the first week of its launch alone!) secured numerous backorders to the glass manufacturer. In a way, the commercial success owed to the enthusiasm with which it was promoted by a commission salesman formerly working for Piguet (whose biggest seller at the time was Bandit). According to Leyssène the demand was so pressing the sales were doubled each year for the following ten years!

Scent Considerations: A Leathery Chypre Marvel
Cabochard utilised the same aromachemical with Bandit: isobutyl quinoline, a harsh green and pungent, dry leather aroma, yet fanning expensive, precious, sweet flowers over it. Inspired by the archetype it muted the smokiness until the drydown. Cabochard offers a capricious bitter orange opening instead, with the illusion of wading through wild bracken catching a distant whiff of clove and hairspray. The crackling leather, powdery afterfeel of face cosmetics was sustained for hours on skin, emitting grace and confidence in a similar manner to Chanel’s Cuir de Russie, although with rather more sweetness and less birch. To Gres it recalled a walk along a deserted Indian beach:

“the crispness of the early morning air, the warmth of sandalwood, a hint of far-off flowers, and the dry caress of sea breezes”.

The parfum sitting on the dresser of my mother ever since I can remember was so warm and rich than mere drops were enough to scent her hair and garments, retaining the essence of who she was into my heart of hearts. The eau de parfum in older versions is also exceptionally good, while the eau de toilette has a lighter but sharper quality.

The difference between the vintage and the recent re-editions can be traced back to 1984 when Beecham Cosmetics acquired British American Cosmetics, who had bought the Grès brand in the interim after Alix closed the couture house. To celebrate Cabochard's twenty-fifth anniversary, they changed the grey velvet bow into frosted glass, encased the bottle in a black instead of a black-and-white one and brightened the citrus top while also restraining the animalic accord. The 40th anniversary of Cabochard was celebrated in 1999 with a Bacarrat crystal flacon, designed by Serge Mansau and what seems yet another re-formulation which finally put the tombstone on one of the best in my opinion perfumes of the 20th century.

Official notes for Madame Gres Cabochard:
Top: aldehydes, bergamot, mandarin, galbanum, spice
Heart: jasmine, rosa damscena, geranium, ylang-ylang, iris
Base: patchouli, leather, vetiver, castoreum, oakmoss, tobacco, musk, labdanum, sandalwood

Pic of bottle from official Gres site

Leather Series 10: Les Gamines

As far as leather scents are concerned, the image prevailing in the first half of the 20th century was either one of emancipation and amazonesque flair or of luxurious leather goods and upholstery of posh venues catering to the tastes of the upper classes. Little by little something emerged from the fashion and cinematic world: a new frame of mind that distanced itself from the more traditionally sexualised images of the 50s a la Marilyn, but also patently different from the emancipated flappers of the 20s. Talking this over with my friend Denyse, she suggested the Gamine term and we pondered on it in order to describe the evolving cultural sensibilities in relation to fashion, olfaction and art in general.

Generally the term Gamine (feminine to French gamin) is translated in English as "urchin" or "waif". But despite its use in the English vernacular ever since the middle of the 19th century (appearing in Thackeray) it only approximated the French equivalent in the mid-20th century gaining popularity through various strata of society. The gamine has to be sort of a tease, but good-natured; a young sprite of a woman that will wink at you and be a little mischievous. Never too sexual or femme though, never aggressive, ultimately never dangerous in the Freudian sense.

It is an accepted fact that the modern iconography of popular culture derives its idols from the matinee as well as the fashion glossies. Early exempla of gamines could be argued to go back as far as Louise Brooks or Mary Pickford, but to me the former was too restless and independent for the tag, the latter too sweet and accomodating. Maybe Paulette Goddard in Modern Times by Charlie Chaplin is closer to the notion.

The optical, if not auditory, resemblance to the word “game” alludes to playfulness and naughtiness , which is transpiring through the iconic cinamatic gamines of the 50s such as Audrey Hepburn, Leslie Caron or Jean Seberg (especially in her Bonjour Tristesse and À bout de souffle roles). Interestingly, the musical that made Leslie Caron famous was preceded by a stage production in which Gigi was played by none other than Audrey Hepburn; personally chosen by the author, no less, the indomitable Colette, whose Claudine series of novels also wink towards the subtly sensual gamine.

Hepburn had been described by Don Macpherson as “overpoweringly chic” citing her “naïveté which did not rule out sophistication”, such as in her role in Funny Face. Thus she inaugurated a trend and a new perception in elegance. All those women were the pioneers paving the way to the waif look of 60s British models such as Jean Shrimpton and Twiggy, manifested in their “swinging London” image.

In the spirit of this new sensibility, fragrance trends followed and the piquantly feminine aldehydics and pretty, powdery florals of the early 60s attest to that seguing from the floral chypres of the 50s. Leather scents were never very popular in those days, due to reasons already discussed when revising the vogues of the 1950s, with only the most noble and suave among them denoting luxury and tradition, such as Doblis. However, there is at least one that could be classified as the arch-gamine one: Miss Balmain by Pierre Balmain, a sister scent to Jolie Madame, much younger and lighter in spirit.

Perhaps the dark Rennaisance angel that is Diorling could also crop her hair into a pixie cut and with butterfly-shaped sunglasses atop her head send you a naughty kiss across the room when no one is looking.

I contemplated long and hard whether the precursor to this phase was Cabochard by Grès, issued in 1959. In the end I decided against it, not because the fragrance is not insolent, audacious and mischievous, because it is. But because Cabochard has a certain exoticism and gravitas that seems to be dragging down the featherlight load of the gamine, imbuding it with expectations beyond its capabilities. Only a naughty and light leathery scent would fit the image I have in mind when thinking of those icons. Yet Cabochard is such an emblem in the pantheon of leather fragrances and such an utterly ruined recomposition that it merits its own obituary following this post.

Pic of Audrey Hepburn from Audrey1 fan site, pic of Jean Shrimpton from Vogue.uk

Art by Women: an Equal Opportunity Manifestation?

Through the course of history, men have left a more prominent relief on the gauze that seperates present from past deeds. Even the term "history" is arguably problematic, a priori denoting a heightened importance to gender.
Expanding this thought into the realm of art and more specifically perfumery, it is easy to see that the emblematic fragrances of modern perfumery have been mostly conceived and composed by men, with the notable exceptions of pioneers Germaine Cellier (nose behind Vent Vert, Fracas, Bandit and Jolie Madame, among others) or Joséphine Catapano (the true creator of Youth Dew, despite tales to the contrary). Later on of course women took the reins and composed many interesting fragrances. I was inspired to think on those matters for today's post by the very interesting interviews of women perfumers hosted by Osmoz, which brought many facets of le métier into focus.

Before proceeding, however, one has to think about art by women: Is it any different in its structure and message than men's? And more importantly, should it be and why/why not? Is there some substance into the differentiation of feminine vs masculine produced Art?

In my opinion, which I had the chance to find out is also shared by Václav Havel, leader writer of the Velvet Revolution, it should not and should it do it ultimately becomes inferior Art. Because appreciation should focus on the content and not the creator it does not, in my opinion, make a lot of difference whether the artist is a woman or a man. I am personally no more lenient to art created by women and/or for women than I am with the equivalent by men (interestingly, you never see that latter advertised as addressing mainly men, do you?) This might explain why I do not generally read chic lit (the term is mirth-producing), but perhaps this is besides the point.

To revert to our question: Does a fragrance created by a woman reverberate into some subconsious desire and need di femina that is mostly incommunicado to men? Do women perfumers hold the secret to what other women desire in this most effervescent of arts?

Dutch-Canadian Ineke Rühland, founder of the INEKE line, is adamant on that point: "I honestly don’t see gender as being a major influence on my work", seguing to elaborate that the only difference is in her creating process for masculine fragrance ~she envisions how she would like men to smell rather than guessing how they themselves want to smell like. Clara Molloy of Memo fragrances agrees:

"I think it’s quite difficult to assign a gender to fragrances, characters,behaviors…It’s a very cultural thing. When you’re very sensitive, even the weather can influence you. Putting on a fragrance is an infinitely precious, delicate and intimate gesture that implies taking one’s time, letting oneself go, being gentle and languorous. Which can all be considered masculine too… "

On the other hand, Annie Byzantian of Firmenich, the creator of mega-blockbuster Aqua di Gio and co-author of Pleasures and Safari pour Homme, disagrees. To her, in contrast with the afore mentioned creators, being a woman plays a role in interpreting the goal of any given fragrance creation.

Perhaps the common thread running through the fabric of those artists' thinking process when creating is the importance of emotion.

Sarah Horowitz Thran of Creative Scentualisation brings the multi-sensory experience to the table, focusing on the inherent acceptance of sensuality in girls growing up. Indeed little boys are not as encouraged or condoned in their exploration of the sensual world, at least in my experience. I was especially interested by Sarah's comment that this appreciation and inspiration by the natural world has been heightened ever since becoming a mother: this is a true differentiation between women and men and as such it poses its own fascinating little questions.

Isabelle Doyen, resident nose at Annick Goutal and creator of 3 Les Nez perfumes, places highest importance to the creative effort above other things. In contrast to Nathalie Larson (who prefers soft, rounded compositions, often with rosy-woody accord, more traditionally feminine), Isabelle goes for the shorter formulae. They instigate a certain idea in no uncertain terms right from the start and thus she describes this effect as "a little brutal". Of course, anyone familiar with the Annick Goutal line might take this last bit in a less literal sense. Nevertheless I deduce that what Isabelle means is that she strives for a clear, hard-hitting vision that is immediately perceptible without roundabouts and frilly details. Quick to admit her own admiration for colleagues' oeuvre however she mentions the infamous Mousse de Saxe base used in the Caron fragrances by laboratoires Laire, but shuns the sensibility of most men's fougère scents. In this instance we could argue that her feminine disposition is showing through.

One of the most illuminating comments was made by Nathalie Larson, creator of Bulgari Pour Femme, Encre Noir and Perles by Lalique as well as Kate Moss:

"as a woman, some brands’ images suit me better than others"

This is something that has to do with the prevalent objectification of women in many mainstream brands that capitalize on a raw sexuality for the sake of shock-value; but also, I surmise, with the concern about brands projecting images that could be safely emulated by women instead of unrealistic ideals of men-imagined archetypes.


It is also interesting to note that when asked to name some of the fragrances that have made an indelible impression on them and which they would have liked to have created themselves, the choices named are composed by male perfumers. But to round out things, ending on the same note as we began, that might have to do with men gaining recognition more easily than women in the past anyway.

For two interviews with women perfumers on Perfume Shrine click here for Anya McCoy and here for Vero Kern.


I would be very interested to hear your thoughts on those questions posed.

Pics of Isabelle Doyen and Clara Molloy courtesy of Osmoz

Better Butter? Doblis by Hermes: fragrance review

At Hermès, craftsmen work with various luxurious materials: Barenia calfskin, Mysore goat (chèvre Mysore), and taurillon Clémence, as well as lizard, ostrich and crocodile skins. One of them is "Veau velours Doblis" suede. This suede comes from a variety of cowhide that is treated in such a way as to render the most velvety, buttery tactile feel on the hand.

As I pass outside the boutique Hermès at the buzzing city center, I swift on my heels to catch a passing glimpse on the shop window at the corner, opposite the jewelry stores of hefty carats and heavy industrialists. The version of the Birkin bag in marron glacé especially is trully breathtaking, reserved for someone who commissioned it, catching my eye inadvertedly ~despite my realization that the prices of those bags are so obscene as to sound almost unethical in a world of hunger and pain. The covetability of the item as an almost obligatory status symbol in recent years, referenced and ultimately spoofed in pop culture, demeans the sheer beauty of the noble materials and the superb craftmanship and makes me view it with added apprehension. It does pose a big question mark over such an object of abject, materialistic excess and it leaves me with a bitter taste in my mouth.

In the words of Comité Colbert, however, an organisation for the protection and patronage of luxury French brands:

“It’s not a crime to love luxury and talk about it. Even if people have their doubts because it can go hand in hand with excess; even if luxury is often confused with wealth and today does not suggest rarity so much as products, corporations and industry.”

So let’s talk about Doblis: The rare gem that shines in the milky way of scents, this time!

Trés elégante, Doblis the fragrance has the pedigree not to shout its aristocratic lineage. Instead it whispers seductively of good taste, restraint, moderation and sheer quality. It is bon chic, bon genre always, just like the silk scarves of the house, and it smells like old money.
Doblis was conceived in the fertile imagination of perfumer Guy Robert in 1955, a perfumer who has worked on emblematic Hermès fragrances such as Calèche and Equipage; both echoing the tradition of the saddle –making luxury brand first established in 1837. Doblis was re-arranged and festively re-issued in winter 2005 to commemorate 50 years of its launch by Guy's son François Robert (according to French Osmoz) who has also worked on many of the modern Parfums de Rosine (the latter incidentally do not bear any relation to the inspiration of Paul Poiret who first issued the line).

Coming across Doblis I am reminded of sniffing an upholstery catalogue of leather and suede swatches as a child. A family lineage of architects, among other things, meant an early familiarity with the materials used in interior decoration. Those alternatively buttery and acrid pieces of treated hides held a secret of initiation: Codes like P25, P5, P12 and P2; and dreamy names like cinnabar, parchment, stone and oyster to correspond…


There are elements of the aldehydic soapy waxiness of both Calèche and Madame Rochas, other revered Guy Robert perfume creations, but in Doblis the effect I get is warmer than the former and less prim than the latter with the addition of an herbal accent. The floral touches of noble Grasseois rose and jasmine blossoms meld right into the skin; they do not stand out, merging with the leathery touch that makes its presence instantly known.
Comparing the current extrait de parfum on my wrists with my tincture of natural deer musk with its warm, almost urinous smell, asserts that the natural component does not make an appearance. Yet there is a refined animalistic streak running through the background of Doblis with an orientalised feel that takes some inspiration from the warmth of Shalimar. The finely sweet aspect of a leather accord in this fragrance might suggest inclusion of styrax and the suaveness of sandalwood. Its smoothness is only comparable with the seamlessness of the rather more easily procured Diorling. Still, it is an indulgence that will leave me sad when it runs out.

Official notes:Chamomille, coriander, thyme, rose absolute, jasmine absolute, leather, moss, musk infusion.

The bottle of Doblis is inspired by a lanterne de calèche, the lantern on an exquisite type of horse-drawn carriage {you can see a comparable model clicking here and many more antique looking models if you're so inclined here}.
A cabouchon cap wrapped with a leather cord of Doblis suede velours crowns it. Only 1000 numbered, collectible bottles of extrait de parfum were issued in 50ml/1.7oz and they make infrequent and extravagant appearences on Ebay. Samples, however, are available at The Perfumed Court.

Painting Alphonse De Toulouse-Lautrec-Monfa (1838-1913) Driving his Mail-Coach in Nice, 1881 courtesy of allposters. Pic of bottle from Osmoz.

Valentine's Day Wishes

Perfume Shrine grabs this opportunity to wish its readers the best that life can give: true, unconditioned love. The way we pictured it when we had childish, idealistic eyes.
May this day, as well as all the subsequent ones, be filled with the passion that rocks the leaves of a young-in-spirit heart.




Please check back later for a surprise post concerning a true gem!

Pic courtesy of devaneiosdacordoceu

The Case of the Jolie-Laide Madame ~Jolie Madame by Balmain: fragrance review

"A writer should write with his eyes and a painter paint with his ears".

~Getrude Stein

It is perhaps fitting that a review of Jolie Madame, the leathery fragrance by Germain Cellier created for couturier Pierre Balmain in 1953 should start with a quote by one of his famous clients who graced this perfume with her preference over others* [*actually this last bit isn't conclusive as Stein died in 1946 as pointed out by our readers, assuming the fragrance was originally created in 1953, and not before, for her own use].

Like Stein herself, Jolie Madame bypasses jolie (=pretty) for stunning and makes you experience it with other senses than the designated one.

I personally remember first smelling it from an almost empty little bottle of parfum on my grandmother’s dresser: a woman who had a way with poetry as well and spoke no less than 7 languages.

On meeting Stein, Alice B.Toklas, her longtime companion and her Paris confidante, wrote:

“She was a golden brown presence, burned by the Tuscan sun and with a golden glint in her warm brown hair. She was dressed in a warm brown corduroy suit. She wore a large round coral brooch and when she talked, very little, or laughed, a good deal, I thought her voice came from this brooch. It was unlike anyone else's voice--deep, full, velvety, like a great contralto's, like two voices”.

~Mellow, 1974, p. 107-08

It is this sound coming in a stream of conciousness as I think of the sonorous merging of violets and leather that is at the verdant core of Jolie Madame: two voices, the pitch of a deep contralto.
Cellier was an iconoclast working with essences and concepts that were rejected by other perfumers because they weren’t au goût du jour: her hyperbole of galbanum dosage in the vintage Vent Vert (a Balmain creation that trully is the antipode of everything Jolie Madame stands for), the assertion of isobutyl quinoline rendering the leathery note in Bandit, the rubbery nuances of tuberose in Fracas that has an almost trigeminal effect to our brain.

Directly inspired by her previous work in Bandit and to a lesser degree in Fracas, Cellier set out to create something for Balmain that would smother leather with an unexpected accord: the duskiness and powderiness of violet.
Violet has an old-fashioned, Victorian connotation, because historically that was the zenith of their popularity. Violets also have a reputation of an aphrodisiac effect, albeit a tempered one. And for that reason they have been featured in pastilles as well as other edible treats. However the surprising fact is that it was the sweet, powdery flowers which were prized then, whereas it is the greener-smelling leaves which are now used in commercial perfumery. As the floral absolute is labour intensive and therefore prohibitedly expensive the recreation of a violet accord is composed with 2,6-nonadienal, beta-ionone, dihydro-beta-ionone and alpha-ionone in addition to other elements.

Jolie Madame marries violet with the ingredient which lends Bandit its harsh, demonic character: quinoline. But whereas Bandit is un parfum figuratif, trying to give the rendition of quinoline’s acid pungency, Jolie Madame is not as much. Instead alongside violets it takes some elements of the gardenia chypres that were popular at the times, yet pushing the envelope all the way. Lots of the chypres in that genre began as a mossy composition embracing a heart of gardenia rendered by styrallyl acetate, a substance naturally found in gardenia buds. Featured in Ma Griffe, which was at the time considered the pre-eminent debutante fragrance, as well as in Miss Dior, it bestows its feminine, oily fattiness to the proceedings attracting women who still kept a little girl hiding someplace in their hearts. Leather scents, on the other hand, whether they were strictly adhering to the chypre structure or not, were not as well-received and popular in a time of traditional values and fashion sense (the 1950s) as the gardenia chypres.

Jolie Madame therefore took a risk: a calculated one, given Balmain’s fashion apotheosis in that decade in the halcyon days of Paris fashion dominance, but still a dare. It was unapologetically the scent of a woman, not a debutante, and it mirrored Stein’s words who claimed Paris was her hometown as much as America was her country:

“…in our American life where there is no coercion in custom and it is our right to change our vocation so often as we have desire and opportunity, it is a common experience that our youth extends through the whole first twenty-nine years of our life and it is not till we reach thirty that we find at last that vocation for which we feel ourselves fit and to which we willingly devote continued labor”.

~Mellow, 1974, p.67-68

Indeed, much as I try, I would find some difficulty in gifting a very young woman with the wonder that is Jolie Madame. The acrid opening of artemisia that vibrates at an emerald frequency is otherworldly and trully awesome. It has a passing resemblance to the minty top of Halston, a scent that came two decades later, at the time of the resurgence of emancipated chypres.
Less strident than brigant Bandit, not as dry as Chanel’s Cuir de Russie but with a more animalic streak running into alleys of deep castoreum and womanly civet, Jolie Madame opens up to reveal a vista of patchouli and moss-laden powdered hides. Its roguish leatheriness stays on throughout, lasting exeptionally well even in the modern eau de toilette. To reference Luca Turin, everything in Jolie Madame is mature, powdery, evolved.

On that note it bears mentioning that the reformulations have not been tremendously respectful to the original and in fact there have been at least two of those: one occuring about 3 years ago and one in the late 90s. I can’t profess an opinion on the most recent edition other than I have heard it described as more aldehydic and with a more pronounced iris heart while trully different than the version which I enjoy; the latter is deeply mossy and leathery, uninhibited rather than demure.
The lighter-coloured version comes in the rectangular bottle with grey label surfacing on many online stores. The vintage is coloured like fine thyme honey and encased in a bottle as the one depicted.

Pic by Migr.

The Dirty Secrets of the Grey Market & Fakes

In addition to the revelations of the exceedingly low costs of several fragrances on the market that we discussed recently, Perfume Shrine continues to be inspired by the juicy behind-the-scenes reportage by Chandler Burr in The Perfect Scent. Unfortunately it corroborates all our worst suspicions and the hush hush gossip we have been hearing from people in the know: "The biggest, dirtiest secret is that you have to sell your products to yourself" as one French executive had revealed. Now that it is in the open, we feel at liberty to discuss this.

The parallel market is what is at the bottom of all this. Burr brings the example of Chanel France who makes the products and has to sell to Chanel USA (there goes the myth, then, dear readers!), who in turn sell the products to the distributors ~where you go and buy your fragrances.
This official practice however is supplemented by them selling to the Arabian Peninsula as well ~Dubai. Which is lawful of course, but which leaves the margin of the latter liquidating the products at some indeterminate moment to dirty little stores on less respectable avenues. Something that was not intended by the headquarters.
This is what happened with the cheap bottles of normally expensive Creed fragrances that so often raise their heads in Ebay or certain sellers online: the grey market. {click for a coherent explanation of how this works}.

Basically valid when the dollar is stronger than other currencies, the grey market operates on

"goods that are legitimately imported from abroad, carry a recognizable trademark or brand name, and are sold at significant discounts outside of the manufacturer's normal channels of distribution".

To restraint such disreputable practices that mar the cachet of any prestigious brand, companies try to shut down those distributors, but more importantly they try to control diverting by marking their product. This practice also protects the consumer from the cheap fakes which circulate as well, usually made in the Far East, more of which later on.
The lot numbering on Chanel bottles started for this exact purpose and they marked the boxes with the country they would sell to (such as, indeed, Dubai). Apart from the etching on the bottom of the glass, Chanel bottles bear a four digit code on the back side of the bottle, just over the base: very discreetly, but there, able to be traced. However diverters soon realised that it was possible to open the boxes, alter the numbers and re-shrinkwrap them. The answer by the legitimate producer was to use invisible ink, but it is a universal thuth alas that anything one devises, another is able to crack...

What is perhaps more intriguing still is that now there is a new technological breakthrough that like a version of Brave New World gone tangibly real it manages to genetically imprint the juice with a recognisable substance that is readable by a gunlike machine which picks up its signal. Very futuristic, no?
Of course this is not very useful to the consumer, who does not possess such a machine, nor is he/she privy to the fact that there is such a process in practice anyway!
To give you an example, this is one method that Jean Paul Gaultier parfums (and therefore Givaudan who produce them) are known to go through. In those beautiful torso bottles there is some genetic stuff floating around that is identifying the juice as the genuine article; something we hadn't thought of when we dabbed the fragrant liquid on our skin.
Other companies such as Chanel do equally well in protecting themselves, with their own methods. Others yet, like the Louis Vuitton Moet Hennesy group (which includes Dior, Givenchy, Guerlain, Kenzo, Lowe and Aqua di Parma parfums) do less well apparently, per the industry gossip.

The following info is especially eye-opening:

"If you take all the sales, 50% are sold in these parallel markets. It helps Chanel France's bottom line, but it hurts Chanel USA's bottom line. Nowadays it's such a common practice it's become uncontrollable. And even the parallel market is in its worst state everywhere because heads of companies have to make their yearly numbers, and so at the end of the year they get desperate and start pouring product into the legitimate markets, which then overflow into the parallel market, which right now is actually flooded".

~Chandler Burr, The Perfect Scent, Holt 2008, p.156

Which brings us back to the matter of fakes as well. Parallel market presence is indavertedly a sign of recognition of a brand's recognisability as much as the production of fakes is a sign of desiribility of the original product.
It is no accident that Chanel is the brand whose products from cosmetics to fragrances have been most copied and faked: it is universally the most recognisable beauty brand and enjoys iconic status accounting for much of its sales.

But time to get practical for the benefit of the customer. In order to differentiate a fake from the original product one has to pay attention to certain details: Usually the cap and lid are not quite right and less luxurious than they should. There is no engraving on the bottom of the bottle but rather a stick-on label, or else the etching is badly made. The logo isn't as sharp as the one on official product in stores, denoting lack of the proper equipement to implement it in the first place. The glass can be a little streaky, not uniform, a sign of inferior quality. And of course in a fake too often the smell is off, with overwhelming alcoholic opening or a stickiness later on, and the colour is not as it should be.
For those reasons, perhaps despite the elevated prices it might be a good idea to purchase your Chanel bottles at a regular store.
But as always whatever you do, it is in your interest to be informed. For this purpose, Perfume Shrine recommends those two Ebay guides for spotting fake Chanel perfumes.
Here is the first one focusing on specific bottles and here is another one about Coco Mademoiselle in particular with info on the box as well.

Accompanied with pics, they are a little nudge to let you make the right choice.

Pic of Eiga Japan from Ebay sent to me by mail by a friend :)

Valentine's preparation: movie and a fragrance

Valentine's Day might seem rather corny to you (and to me): after all, isn't the point in celebrating love every day? But the pleasure-factor of watching a romantic film hand in hand with your loved one, silently hunched onto each other in a dark theater or at the abode of one's home and enjoying an accompanying fragrance shouldn't be shunned due to such esthete concepts as mentioned above. It gives us a wonderful excuse to indulge into a little cinematic game, of which Perfume Shrine never tires. Hopefully, neither have you, dear readers.

So, without further ado, here is what I came up with for today: Let's pick some trully romantic movies, watch the clips I selected and match the mood they exude with a perfume to wear. Shall we?

One might as well begin with the sacred cow that is Casablanca: not because of its screenplay and acting so much (although they too are wonderful), but due to its superb direction and editing, it should be taught in every film school. And it is. The final shots of Ilsa boarding the plane should be taught in every fashion school as well, but I digress. The story is eternal, the repercussions of such decisions echo in eternity and any other ending would be colosally less brilliant.


(uploaded by kayjae)


There is really nothing that can be worn lightly in view of such a torrid affair as the drumroll of war is marching on. Perhaps the introspection and melancholy of Après L'ondée by Guerlain suits the mood more than other scents. Another choice would be the suave 31 Rue Cambon from Chanel Les Exclusifs with its inherent veil of elegance over human warmth and tenderness or the white, heartbreaking beauty of Un Lys by Serge Lutens. All trully Parisian scents, the Paris they will forever cherish in their hearts.

One of the lighter, funnier romantic comedies I have been enjoying every chance I get has been Down with Love with Renee Zellwegger and Ewan McGregor from 2003: a superb homage to the Doris Day-Rock Hudson movies.
In a very accurate (down to the last detail!) retro early-60s-style it tells the story of Barbara Novak. A feminist advice author, she shuns love only to get caught under the spell of Catcher Block, a playboy who, disappointed when no longer able to pursue his affairs due to her book's success, goes undercover in an attempt to "break" her and prove the falacy of her axiom. I will leave the end for you to discover if you haven't yet.
Pure unadulterated, unapologetic fun and with the usual amazing singing by Ewan, who could be an excellent singer any day.


(uploaded by catalinadarling)

Since this is about the eternal battle of the sexes and so firmly set in the 60s I suggest you watch it with a good swooooosh of nearly unisex Eau Sauvage by Christian Dior. This light, citrusy spell with a fresh whiff of jasmine aroma will have you longing for spring days of love.
Or you could go for Parfumerie Generale Eau de Circe, a potion for a light-hearted hip seductress and Pillow of Flowers by Parfums Armando Martinez which is as luminous as a string of pearls over a colourful, tailored shift dress.

The way we were (1973) by Sydney Pollack is arguably one of the better known tearjerkers in cinematic history as we all feel a pang of silent pain as we watch the determined heroine unexpectedly meet the object of her younger days adoration in the arms of another woman years later, simply stating: "Your girl is lovely, Hubbell". Their separation due to different goals in life holds a moral tale: Jewish Katie with her leftish views doesn't quite fit on the arm of WASP Hubbell who is a promising writer who ultimately compromises his talent. But as her personality shines through in the duration of the film, his own shortcomings, despite the smashing looks, become poignently apparent.
However I chose not to show you a clip of the film in question, but off the beaten track rather go for a glorious reference of it in pop culture: from the finale of season 2 of Sex and the City , in which Carrie identifies with the heroine. Be sure to watch this in its entirety, it is trully funny and sensitive.


(uploaded by denysa25)

If you want to pop in the DVD and watch it (again or for the first time), might I suggest you bring out the quite good scent by Sarah Jessica Parker herself, Lovely: musky but refined, it doesn't quite fit the last lines, but it is very pretty. As much as Sarah Jessica's gown with all those blonde curls are in the final scene.
If you are after the wild mood suggested by the final line however, you should choose Vero Profumo Onda: a beast of a scent that is trully untamed!



Romantic tales couldn't be left without one of the most lyrical films in the history of cinema: Elvira Madigan (1967), a Swedish film of the doomed affair of a circus acrobat and a married lieutenant with kids. Set to the ethereal 1st movement of Mozart's piano concerto No.21 it utilizes the beauty of swedish midsummer nature as the backdrop of its beautiful heroes.

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Dzing! would be the obvious choice if you want to evoke the atmosphere of the circus, yet somehow the scenery is too beautiful for such a quirky (albeit fabulous) scent. The hay stacks, the summer skies, the youthfulness of both protagonists' features call for Extrait de Songe/L'ete en douce (the name it has recirculated under) by L'artisan Parfumeur. Perhaps the tragic tale behind Fleur de Narcisse, the limited edition of L'artisan from 2006 is even better suited to the fateful end of the two lovers.


Sometimes, romance comes with the feeling of a well-worn slipper. What I mean: Sometimes, love is under our own nose and is someone we're taking for granted. Just like Harry and Sally and their meeting. Or rather series of meetings which culminate into genuine friendship. And then romance. And then...
But surely, you have watched this modern classic about relationships!


(uploaded by agizemk)

And there is even a perfume reference in the very end: "I love that after I spend the day with you, I can still smell your perfume on my clothes". What other declaration of true love could you ask for?
A fragrance that can be worn casually, with conviction and flair, secure in the knowledge it suits you like your favourite sweater, then. Like Marc Jacobs Amber Splash. Or Tauer's Reverie au Jardin, the softly envelopping of fresh lavender by velvety musk, which can be shared between you two.

Last but certainly not least, my own favourite: the fourth story in the Greek classic film The counterfeit sovereign (Kalpiki lira) from 1955 by Yiorgos Javellas/ In four chapters a counterfeit sovereign is made by an honest engraver guiled by a dishonest seductress to fall into the hands of a beggar and a prostitute and then to a wealthy miser.
In the final chapter, with a gut wrenching performance by Elli Lambeti and Dimitris Horn, a young struggling artist falls in love with a rich girl when they meet at said miser's New Year Eve's dinner when they win a gold sovereign while cutting the traditional lucky pie of the day: upon it they pledge their love, never to sell it and decide to marry. He paints her portrait when he is inspired by her casual "I love you" one day. But hardships come their way and they split, for her to remarry in line with her social class this time. We can feel the bitterness as the former husband says in the gallery: "Unlike the model that posed for it, this is not for sale! This is all mine."
Years later they meet again:
-"The sovereign on which we pledged our love was.....
-Counterfeit.
-Counterfeit...But our love was true, Paul."


(uploaded by elliniki kardia)It never fails to move me...The yearning and poignancy remind me of the delicate silk faille of Pontevecchio W by Nobile 1942...and of course the eternal Mitsouko.



What fragrance would you choose to match the mood of these or your own favourite romantic films?
I'd love to hear.