Monday, June 30, 2008
Patou Ma Collection: part 6 ~Colony, L'Heure Attendue, Caline reviews
“The exotic image of the deepest jungle, lush vegetation, powerful spices borne over amethyst seas and strange girls in distant sun-kissed ports.” Thus is described Colony in the booklet which accompanies Patou’s Ma Collection.
In 1938, amid the threat of impending war, Jean Patou chose Colony to evoke the tropics and to suggest a carefree, more prosperous time. A fetid and round fruity chypre, Patou’s Colony is comprised of succulent and non-sweet pineapple as well as heady ylang ylang from Nossi-Be starting on an almost herbal, boozy accord pinching your nose, which needs humidity and the warmth of skin to open up. Under the thick netting covering fruits one can feel unfolding earthy tonalities juxtaposed with what seems like leather and musk in a game of chiaroscuro.
The languorous Colony prowls like Lauren Bacall did in "To Have and Have Not", as Marie "Slim" Browning, a resistance sympathizer and a sassy singer in a Martinique club; the perfect “strange girl in distant sun-kissed ports”. Curvaceous clothes cinched at the waist hold her graceful gazelle form as she leans her long neck to give a sideways aloof look at those who catch her attention.
And she knows full well how to entice Steve: “You know you don't have to act with me, Steve. You don't have to say anything, and you don't have to do anything. Not a thing. Oh, maybe just whistle. You know how to whistle, don't you, Steve? You just put your lips together and... blow”.
Colony by Patou possesses that same husky and nostalgic voice which beckons you to whistle invitingly.
Notes for Colony: fruits, pineapple, ylang ylang, iris, carnation, oakmoss, vetiver and spices.
On the other hand, L'heure Attendue is more like the wistful Ilsa played by Ingrid Bergman in "Casablanca". When the Nazi occupation of Paris came indeed at an end, Jean Patou celebrated with “the longed-for hour”, L’heure Attendue; a soft, rather sweet, powdery and woody perfume with creamy taste, embodying elegance, restraint and dutiful sacrifice; it speaks in the melodious tones of a warm-hearted woman.
With shades of Almeras's style in the heart, L'Heure Attendue is sober yet sparkling, all big expressive eyes, smiling yet with a melancholy of realising what all this entailed. The flowers, interweaved into an inseparable posy, are creamy and tender unfolding into a spicy/woodsy drydown which epitomizes classic elegance. One can imagine it worn with the perfect classic tailleur or trench coat, a broad-brimmed hat perched on smooth hair atop softly arched eyebrows. Inside its core a warm, loving heart will forever be pulsating in the beat of happy days spent in Paris.
Notes for L’Heure Attendue: lily of the valley, geranium, lilac; ylang-ylang, jasmine, rose, opopanax; Mysore sandalwood, vanilla, patchouli.
Câline, composed by then in-house perfumer Henri Giboulet, was released by Jean Patou in 1964 as “the first perfume dedicated to teenage girls”. Which means it is unfathomable on anyone who is considered so today! This unblushing aphorism might provoke a flood of inner dialogue in which two sides of consience passionately argue about older and younger mores and how times have irrevocably changed. But the epoch from which Câline hails was by all accounts the era in which young girls aspired to become mature ladies pretty soon, not pigtailed 50-year-olds who carry Hello Kitty bags. There was validation in becoming a grown-up, an antithetical mood to the hysteria of the youth cult which catapulted itself into our consiousness after the 60s. There was nothing apologetic about being older, like there wasn’t either about being younger. Angst and ennui were notions that were just beginning to morph in a world which had healed at long last its WWII scars and envisioned a prosperous future full of the latest technological advancements.
The greenly fresh aldehydic sophistication and malleable primness of Patou’s Câline remind me of Audrey Hepburn in Sabrina, after her European trip in which she becomes a proper “lady”, almost unrecognizable to those who knew her as merely the chauffer’s daughter to the rich family. That je ne sais quoi, which her stay in Paris to amend her broken heart polished her with, is reflected in the refined and discreet trail that Câline leaves behind like a reminder of decorum; or the murmur of enchanting and yet bounded femininity expressed in shadowy iris and insouciant orange blossom, underscored by earthy mossy tones which simultaneously recall shades of Ma Griffe and Ivoire. The piquancy of a basil spicy-like note along with coriander put the finishing touch in its image: It’s poised, ladylike in her kitten-heels and too eager to don the classic pearl necklace with a desire that borders on the ironically saucy.
Not to be confused with Gres Caline from 2005 (nor its flankers, Caline Night and Caline Sweet Appeal)
Notes for Câline: green citrus, spices, jasmin, ylang-ylang, cedarwood, moss, musk.
Clip originally uploaded by zegoar on Youtube. Lauren Bacall and Casablanca pic via Wikipedia. Audrey Hepburn pic via Audrey1. Bottle pics courtesy of Basenotes.
Labels:
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caline,
chypre,
colony,
fragrance history,
fruity,
l'heure attendue,
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pineapple,
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youtube
Friday, June 27, 2008
Patou Ma Collection: part 5 ~Vacances review
This painting of Marc Chagall, Lovers in the Lilacs, has always striken me as the quintessential mark of an unanswered question which both love and flowers wear like a corona: how can the ephemeral be coaxed to last?
Lilacs especially live and die for all too brief a season, creating the yearning that short-lived pleasures know how to taunt us with, reminding us of our own mortality.
Vacances by Patou, a fragrance which tries to make them last, was composed by Henri Alméras in 1936 to celebrate the first paid vacations in France (“vacances” in French). Coincidentally it was the same year that Jean Patou himself died of apoplexy at the young age of 49, immersed in business worries and anxious for the future of his house. It seems that his touch on the pulse of trends wasn’t as firmly set in the 1930s as it had been in the 1920s. Luckily the house was saved by Raymond Barbas, his brother-in-law, who would persist and would be commisioning other fragrances to his in-house perfumers Henri Alméras and Henri Giboulet: Colony in 1938, then L’heure Attendue in 1946, and Câline in 1964, as well as other less-known ones such as the 1956 Lasso, Makila, Délices…
Patou himself would have loved to see the deep appreciation lilac and hyacinth lovers feel for his wonderful fragrance, however. Vacances is the best showcase for the simultaneously green, oily and metallic aspects of hyacinth, but also for the richest lilac note one could wish for in a fragrance this side of respectable. And I am saying this because lilac blossoms are profoundly dirty-smelling really, but with such beauty, such wistfulness and such abandon that they know how to play with my heartstrings.
The elusiveness of lilac is due to its resistance to yielding a sufficient essence for use in perfumery, making it the par excellence recreated note, which so often recalls housecleaning products or air-fresheners (the molecule hydroxycitronellal which is also used to recreate muguet/lily of the valley is often the culprit, as well as Terpineol) The IFF Lyral base has also been used in lilac perfumes. On some occasions, perfumers go for an unexpected combination to provide a needed counterpoint, like the aqueous note along with yeast for En Passant by Olivia Giacobetti for F.Malle; or the modern dusty take of Ineke in After my Own Heart.
But immerse your soul into Vacances and you will understand that the message of the lilac panicles is more fulsome, beckoning you to oblivion. The rays of spring sun fall on flowers as if for the first time. But despite its allegiance to spring it can be worn year round.
The starkly green opening of galbanum in Patou's Vacances is the frame to the opaque jade and peppery spice of hyacinth, with its wet green stems smashed. And then the full force of oily-sweet indolic lilac, pretty and dirty like puce-pink knickers dusted with pollen, worn for a day too long and a shower too short. The golden muskiness that remains is subtle yet definitely there, posing a gigantic question mark seeking an answer that will never come.
Notes for Vacances: galbanum, hyacinth, hawthorn, lilac, mimosa, musk, woods
Although Vacances outlived Patou himself, it got to know a hiatus until 1984 when it was re-issued as part of Ma Collection by then in-house perfumer Jean Kerléo. In a coup of inexplicable tragedy, all the scents in Ma Collection however have been discontinued and are quite hard to find. Let’s fervently pray the masterminds at Patou ~and P&G who own them~ bring it back from the dead into the realm of the living where it so passionately belongs.
"Lovers in the Lilacs" by Marc Chagall, courtesy of abcgallery.com. Bottle pic by Frances Ann Ade via Basenotes.
Lilacs especially live and die for all too brief a season, creating the yearning that short-lived pleasures know how to taunt us with, reminding us of our own mortality.
Vacances by Patou, a fragrance which tries to make them last, was composed by Henri Alméras in 1936 to celebrate the first paid vacations in France (“vacances” in French). Coincidentally it was the same year that Jean Patou himself died of apoplexy at the young age of 49, immersed in business worries and anxious for the future of his house. It seems that his touch on the pulse of trends wasn’t as firmly set in the 1930s as it had been in the 1920s. Luckily the house was saved by Raymond Barbas, his brother-in-law, who would persist and would be commisioning other fragrances to his in-house perfumers Henri Alméras and Henri Giboulet: Colony in 1938, then L’heure Attendue in 1946, and Câline in 1964, as well as other less-known ones such as the 1956 Lasso, Makila, Délices…
Patou himself would have loved to see the deep appreciation lilac and hyacinth lovers feel for his wonderful fragrance, however. Vacances is the best showcase for the simultaneously green, oily and metallic aspects of hyacinth, but also for the richest lilac note one could wish for in a fragrance this side of respectable. And I am saying this because lilac blossoms are profoundly dirty-smelling really, but with such beauty, such wistfulness and such abandon that they know how to play with my heartstrings.
The elusiveness of lilac is due to its resistance to yielding a sufficient essence for use in perfumery, making it the par excellence recreated note, which so often recalls housecleaning products or air-fresheners (the molecule hydroxycitronellal which is also used to recreate muguet/lily of the valley is often the culprit, as well as Terpineol) The IFF Lyral base has also been used in lilac perfumes. On some occasions, perfumers go for an unexpected combination to provide a needed counterpoint, like the aqueous note along with yeast for En Passant by Olivia Giacobetti for F.Malle; or the modern dusty take of Ineke in After my Own Heart.
But immerse your soul into Vacances and you will understand that the message of the lilac panicles is more fulsome, beckoning you to oblivion. The rays of spring sun fall on flowers as if for the first time. But despite its allegiance to spring it can be worn year round.
The starkly green opening of galbanum in Patou's Vacances is the frame to the opaque jade and peppery spice of hyacinth, with its wet green stems smashed. And then the full force of oily-sweet indolic lilac, pretty and dirty like puce-pink knickers dusted with pollen, worn for a day too long and a shower too short. The golden muskiness that remains is subtle yet definitely there, posing a gigantic question mark seeking an answer that will never come.
Notes for Vacances: galbanum, hyacinth, hawthorn, lilac, mimosa, musk, woods
Although Vacances outlived Patou himself, it got to know a hiatus until 1984 when it was re-issued as part of Ma Collection by then in-house perfumer Jean Kerléo. In a coup of inexplicable tragedy, all the scents in Ma Collection however have been discontinued and are quite hard to find. Let’s fervently pray the masterminds at Patou ~and P&G who own them~ bring it back from the dead into the realm of the living where it so passionately belongs.
"Lovers in the Lilacs" by Marc Chagall, courtesy of abcgallery.com. Bottle pic by Frances Ann Ade via Basenotes.
Labels:
fragrance history,
hyacinth,
lilac,
ma collection,
patou,
review,
vacances
Thursday, June 26, 2008
New Frederic Malle fragrance!
Because we like to keep abreast of things and congratulate a smart girl when she gets a great scoop, please visit The Non-Blonde for the news on a new Frederic Malle scent, Dans tes Bras (in your arms) by nose Maurice Roucel (of Musc Ravageur fame). Exciting!!!
Patou Ma Collection: part 4 ~Divine Folie, Normandie reviews
The Great Crash of 1929 brought the US on its knees. The glamorous lifestyle of those who vacationed to sunny places, yachting and swimming in the trendiest swimming-suits with stripes and bare midriffs after the Chaldée ideal wasn’t at an end, but destitute people were a common occurrence across the country with diverse results as a consequence. Its echo was heard even across the Atlantic, to France where Patou saw many of his American clients diminish their orders in the throes of the Great Depression. In an era of tight economy, however, everyone tried to cope or fake it. "In times of crisis, we shorten the skirts"; a famous Parisian couturier has been known to say. And the best way to impart a little luxury is enjoying the more affordable items of a designer’s brand, such as lipstick or indeed fragrance.
Jean Patou who had devised Joy as “the costliest perfume in the world” at exactly this time, shocking the system, was well cognizant of that axiom: fragrance was still more affordable than couture, even if that fragrance was the “costliest” in the world. The extravagance which any period of crisis brings out in people was reflected in the trends of the 30s.
In 1933 Patou came out with an invitation to “a party mood of exquisite madness” to reflect that extravagance, with his Divine Folie (Divine Folly); an ambery fragrance with a powdery feel, a scattering of slightly sour, oily blooms and a spicy note to give it piquancy. That clove-y carnation whiff reminds me of Adieu Sagesse and the two share the overture but they part ways in the coda: Divine Folie is more ambery and powdery, with a pronounced vanilla veil. It has the nostalgic feel of old-fashioned putty makeup put on to convey a gaiety that is not really felt in the heart, desperation of seeing the end looming after what seemed like the promise of happiness: a little skewed a little flawed, einmal ist keinmal.
Divine Folie resembles Sophie in Maugham’s "The Razor’s Edge", a happy life shattered by tragedy, trickling into the doom of drink, opium and the promiscuity of “dumb but beautiful” sailors. Her decadent façade merely a vitrine, putty make-up to hide the wounds of her soul, her mascara-shoot tears black rivulets betraying the better side of promise.
Notes for Divine Folie: Neroli, Ylang Ylang, Iris, Rose, Jasmine, Musk, Vanilla
In contrast Normandie is Isabel, the proper but not without passion fiancée of Larry who settles for a married rich life instead of pursuing the path to spiritual enlightment with him. Her own disillusionment after the Great Crash and her re-evaluation of her life are aspects which have not yet being explored in Normandie. The fragrance is still the emblem of the good life, of yachting, of cruising, of travelling the world over in defiance of poverty or misery. How extravagant indeed to name a fragrance after a cruise liner! Perfectly fitting the megalomaniac tendencies of the Patou brand, Normandie the liner which showcased some of the most celebrated art nouveau décor in the world and its maiden voyage in 1935 was to be commemorated through Normandie the fragrance.
“The grandiose crossing of the Atlantic. An amber perfume with a pronounced oriental note. A fragrance full of character, mingling jasmine, rose and moss” is how Jean Kérleo chose to present it in the "Ma Collection" booklet. The charming gesture of presenting each passenger aboard the ship with a sample, slot in the funnel of a stylized metal steamer was the ne plus ultra in extravagant launches, on a par with parachuting Paris with Ma Griffe samples.
Normandie blends the prettiest powdery flowers in a picture-perfect bouquet of carnation, jasmine and soapy rose that rests on a table of rich mahogany, the smell of balsam in the background. Much like Ombre Rose or 24 Faubourg, Normandie is a sumptuous, expensive, woody floral with slightly sweet vanillic base which personifies the meaning of good taste and restraint. Exactly like Isabel: well mannered, beautiful yet subtle, an excellent conversationalist, it makes for witty small-talk about the latest gossip if you wish it, but also a discussion about Götterdämmerung. The question is whether she will find the chance to dwelve in the latter and that chance you have to provide for her yourself.
Notes for Normandie: carnation, jasmine, rose, opoponax, tree moss, vanilla, benzoin
Pic of Bonnie and Clyde film courtesy of athinorama.gr, of bottles courtesy of fragranceglobe and netstoreusa.us
Jean Patou who had devised Joy as “the costliest perfume in the world” at exactly this time, shocking the system, was well cognizant of that axiom: fragrance was still more affordable than couture, even if that fragrance was the “costliest” in the world. The extravagance which any period of crisis brings out in people was reflected in the trends of the 30s.
In 1933 Patou came out with an invitation to “a party mood of exquisite madness” to reflect that extravagance, with his Divine Folie (Divine Folly); an ambery fragrance with a powdery feel, a scattering of slightly sour, oily blooms and a spicy note to give it piquancy. That clove-y carnation whiff reminds me of Adieu Sagesse and the two share the overture but they part ways in the coda: Divine Folie is more ambery and powdery, with a pronounced vanilla veil. It has the nostalgic feel of old-fashioned putty makeup put on to convey a gaiety that is not really felt in the heart, desperation of seeing the end looming after what seemed like the promise of happiness: a little skewed a little flawed, einmal ist keinmal.
Divine Folie resembles Sophie in Maugham’s "The Razor’s Edge", a happy life shattered by tragedy, trickling into the doom of drink, opium and the promiscuity of “dumb but beautiful” sailors. Her decadent façade merely a vitrine, putty make-up to hide the wounds of her soul, her mascara-shoot tears black rivulets betraying the better side of promise.
Notes for Divine Folie: Neroli, Ylang Ylang, Iris, Rose, Jasmine, Musk, Vanilla
In contrast Normandie is Isabel, the proper but not without passion fiancée of Larry who settles for a married rich life instead of pursuing the path to spiritual enlightment with him. Her own disillusionment after the Great Crash and her re-evaluation of her life are aspects which have not yet being explored in Normandie. The fragrance is still the emblem of the good life, of yachting, of cruising, of travelling the world over in defiance of poverty or misery. How extravagant indeed to name a fragrance after a cruise liner! Perfectly fitting the megalomaniac tendencies of the Patou brand, Normandie the liner which showcased some of the most celebrated art nouveau décor in the world and its maiden voyage in 1935 was to be commemorated through Normandie the fragrance.
“The grandiose crossing of the Atlantic. An amber perfume with a pronounced oriental note. A fragrance full of character, mingling jasmine, rose and moss” is how Jean Kérleo chose to present it in the "Ma Collection" booklet. The charming gesture of presenting each passenger aboard the ship with a sample, slot in the funnel of a stylized metal steamer was the ne plus ultra in extravagant launches, on a par with parachuting Paris with Ma Griffe samples.
Normandie blends the prettiest powdery flowers in a picture-perfect bouquet of carnation, jasmine and soapy rose that rests on a table of rich mahogany, the smell of balsam in the background. Much like Ombre Rose or 24 Faubourg, Normandie is a sumptuous, expensive, woody floral with slightly sweet vanillic base which personifies the meaning of good taste and restraint. Exactly like Isabel: well mannered, beautiful yet subtle, an excellent conversationalist, it makes for witty small-talk about the latest gossip if you wish it, but also a discussion about Götterdämmerung. The question is whether she will find the chance to dwelve in the latter and that chance you have to provide for her yourself.
Notes for Normandie: carnation, jasmine, rose, opoponax, tree moss, vanilla, benzoin
Pic of Bonnie and Clyde film courtesy of athinorama.gr, of bottles courtesy of fragranceglobe and netstoreusa.us
Wednesday, June 25, 2008
Patou Ma Collection: part 3 ~Moment Supreme, Cocktail reviews
There are moments when one is forced to face their demons and try to tame those things one believes to be most antithetical to their nature. Lavender has for a long time eluded me as an aroma to be savored in perfumery, mostly due to its cliché status in many masculine fragrances and secondarily due to its ~I thought~ unimaginative medicinal-ity.
But sometimes one is taken aback: Moment Suprême and Cocktail, both by Patou from the "Ma Collection" set, are linked by their lavender opening, which is treated in two different ways, like the two faces of Janus. While they both present a unisex feeling thanks to the emblematic use of lavender, showing its striking cheekbones and decisive jawline with pride, in Moment Suprême the composition interweaves lavender through its thicker sweet brocade, while in Cocktail it serves as a sparkling top which resembles the brass tromboni in the opening of Stravinsky’s "Sacrificial Dance" from "Rite of Spring".
Moment Suprême came out in 1929, composed by in-house perfumer Henri Alméras, although some give a 1933 date for its introduction. At some point it was incorporated into the love story coffret with the other three beauties: Amour Amour, Que sais-je? and Adieu Sagesse.
Upon cracking the bottle of Moment Suprême open, having observed the pale celadon of the juice, you’re taken with the vintage feel it evokes: lavender showing its medicinal character while just as quickly the plush of amber and vanilla along with a bouquet of flowers peek through. For about half an hour this is the story, when later on there is a delectable hint of spice, like carnation which was so enticing in Adieu Sagesse, makes its solo appearance before retreating to the wings; but leaving the stage lights open to an empty scene which has retained the warmth of the people who have performed. The character of the composition is elegant, defiant and businesslike with a distinct warmth underneath that speaks of silky undergarments.
Notes for Moment Suprême: bergamot, lemon, neroli, mandarin, lavender, May rose, clove, ylang, lilac, jonquil, orris, vanilla, sandal, musk, honey, heliotrope, civet, moss, and benzoin.
The story of Cocktail is fitting to its name, recalling rich patrons sipping dry Martinis and Gibsons while listening to Benny Goodman’s swing clarinet, Prohibition laws making it a naughty affair to get a decent drink.
In his couture shop at 7, rue Saint-Florentin, Jean Patou had the brilliant idea of creating a cocktail bar where men could drink and small-talk while their women shopped for their dresses. In 1930, Patou decided that this could be converted into a veritable perfume bar and Henri Alméas was instructed to create "cocktail" fragrances. The results were the original, Cocktail Dry, Cocktail Sweet, and Cocktail Bitter Sweet.
Cocktail takes crisp lavender and utilizes it like angostura bitters to set off the rest of the intoxicating dryness of this heady drink you’re about to consume. Sharp at first, subtle upon closer inspection, it sparkles with the greeness of herbal aromas like the juniper berries in gin to later whisper with the dry powder of hazy blossoms seen through netting, as if in a drunk stupor. But the point is you could do a lot worse than getting high on Patou’s Cocktail!
In a strike of either ironic coincidence or elective affinity, twenty-five years later perfumer Henri Giboulet created a "cocktail" perfume for Lubin, Gin Fizz. When Henri Alméras retired, Henri Giboulet became in-house perfumer for Patou.
Notes for Cocktail: lavender, geranium, clove, rose and jasmine.
Pics courtesy of mooseyscountrygarden, tout en parfum, netshopusa.us
But sometimes one is taken aback: Moment Suprême and Cocktail, both by Patou from the "Ma Collection" set, are linked by their lavender opening, which is treated in two different ways, like the two faces of Janus. While they both present a unisex feeling thanks to the emblematic use of lavender, showing its striking cheekbones and decisive jawline with pride, in Moment Suprême the composition interweaves lavender through its thicker sweet brocade, while in Cocktail it serves as a sparkling top which resembles the brass tromboni in the opening of Stravinsky’s "Sacrificial Dance" from "Rite of Spring".
Moment Suprême came out in 1929, composed by in-house perfumer Henri Alméras, although some give a 1933 date for its introduction. At some point it was incorporated into the love story coffret with the other three beauties: Amour Amour, Que sais-je? and Adieu Sagesse.
Upon cracking the bottle of Moment Suprême open, having observed the pale celadon of the juice, you’re taken with the vintage feel it evokes: lavender showing its medicinal character while just as quickly the plush of amber and vanilla along with a bouquet of flowers peek through. For about half an hour this is the story, when later on there is a delectable hint of spice, like carnation which was so enticing in Adieu Sagesse, makes its solo appearance before retreating to the wings; but leaving the stage lights open to an empty scene which has retained the warmth of the people who have performed. The character of the composition is elegant, defiant and businesslike with a distinct warmth underneath that speaks of silky undergarments.
Notes for Moment Suprême: bergamot, lemon, neroli, mandarin, lavender, May rose, clove, ylang, lilac, jonquil, orris, vanilla, sandal, musk, honey, heliotrope, civet, moss, and benzoin.
The story of Cocktail is fitting to its name, recalling rich patrons sipping dry Martinis and Gibsons while listening to Benny Goodman’s swing clarinet, Prohibition laws making it a naughty affair to get a decent drink.
In his couture shop at 7, rue Saint-Florentin, Jean Patou had the brilliant idea of creating a cocktail bar where men could drink and small-talk while their women shopped for their dresses. In 1930, Patou decided that this could be converted into a veritable perfume bar and Henri Alméas was instructed to create "cocktail" fragrances. The results were the original, Cocktail Dry, Cocktail Sweet, and Cocktail Bitter Sweet.
Cocktail takes crisp lavender and utilizes it like angostura bitters to set off the rest of the intoxicating dryness of this heady drink you’re about to consume. Sharp at first, subtle upon closer inspection, it sparkles with the greeness of herbal aromas like the juniper berries in gin to later whisper with the dry powder of hazy blossoms seen through netting, as if in a drunk stupor. But the point is you could do a lot worse than getting high on Patou’s Cocktail!
In a strike of either ironic coincidence or elective affinity, twenty-five years later perfumer Henri Giboulet created a "cocktail" perfume for Lubin, Gin Fizz. When Henri Alméras retired, Henri Giboulet became in-house perfumer for Patou.
Notes for Cocktail: lavender, geranium, clove, rose and jasmine.
Pics courtesy of mooseyscountrygarden, tout en parfum, netshopusa.us
Labels:
cocktail,
ma collection,
moment supreme,
patou,
review
Tuesday, June 24, 2008
Patou Ma Collection: part 2 ~Chaldee review
In a roundabout way it was Coco Chanel, Patou’s main rival, that upon returning from vacation tanned as a sailor made sun-bathing fashionable and ultimately desirable inducing Patou to mastermind a fragrance, Chaldée, inspired by the new trend. Sun-worship was to witness resurgence after eons of absentia since its pagan days of idolatry.
For millennia ancient Sumerians, Egyptians, Greeks and Incas embraced the sun’s warm rays as the giver of life. And then even before western society abandoned slavery it embraced distinct social ranking which manifested itself through a very simple means: light skin meant less time spent out in the sun, which was the destiny of workers of the fields and the low classes in general. Thus an Odyssey began for women around the world employing poisons such as lead or arsenic in their quest for the unattainable pale ideal. Until Niels Finsen, that is, who introduced his Light Therapy in 1903 with purported health benefits, creating a mini-revolution, at least amid the scientific community.
But it was Chanel’s finger on the pulse of fashion that brought things full circle. A 1920s accidental tan while cruising from Paris to Cannes aboard the Duke of Westminster's yacht was quickly transformed into a trend-setting fad that was unprecedented. Tanning became a sign of leisure, of wealth, the sign that someone was able to take a vacation, preferably in a warm sunny place. The idolatry angle of the golden sun’s effect was also to manifest itself through the adoration of Josephine Baker who, with her outré style of performance and caramel skin, mesmerized Parisians into wanting to emulate her. Famous fashion photographer Cecil Beaton describes the Duchess of Penaranda in the pages of Vogue magazine:
Jean Patou could not let this new ideal slip through his grasp like grains of sand between a sunbather’s fingers: he acted fast with Huile de Chaldée, one of the first sun-tanning oils which Henri Alméras, then in-house perfumer to Patou, re-interpreted in fine fragrance simply named Chaldée in 1927. The chosen name was to recall an ancient Babylonian region famed for its amber-skinned beauties. Chaldée with its deap, oily-smelling ambery character bears no relation to modern aspirations to being a Bronze Goddess, no matter how pleasant those might be.
A terrible dawn is showing through the parapets of Chaldea and, as the initial darkness of the night ~heavy with the fatty smell of hyacinths~ lifts, slowly you see upon the ziggurat the woman, adorned in candied tones of orange blossoms; her warm, pulsating flesh offered as an oracle and sacrifice to the all consuming Shamash. Her skin deeply bronzed, emanating all the aromas of Arabia, resiny, intimate, fetid. You can see the furtive but excited looks of the common folk awaiting, smell their humanness. The great knife is raised and swoosh… there flows the blood; scarlet, young, full of life, spent to join Nergal.
Today we know better than to sacrifice our flesh on the altar of Sun almighty in order to achieve the bronze looks and feel of powdered warmth the sun gives us. Yet as author Naomi Wolf notes in her controversial book, "The Beauty Myth", in 1991
In the meantime slip out a bottle of Chaldée, immerse yourself into its golden nectar and imagine yourself a bloodless Sun-offer.
Notes for Chaldee: orange blossom, hyacinth, jasmine, daffodil, lily of the valley, vanilla, opopanax, amber.
Pic of carnelian stamp seal, Neo-Babylonian Dynasty, about 700-550 BC from Babylon, southern Iraq, courtesy of the British Museum. Pic of Chaldee courtesy of fragranceglobe.com
For millennia ancient Sumerians, Egyptians, Greeks and Incas embraced the sun’s warm rays as the giver of life. And then even before western society abandoned slavery it embraced distinct social ranking which manifested itself through a very simple means: light skin meant less time spent out in the sun, which was the destiny of workers of the fields and the low classes in general. Thus an Odyssey began for women around the world employing poisons such as lead or arsenic in their quest for the unattainable pale ideal. Until Niels Finsen, that is, who introduced his Light Therapy in 1903 with purported health benefits, creating a mini-revolution, at least amid the scientific community.
But it was Chanel’s finger on the pulse of fashion that brought things full circle. A 1920s accidental tan while cruising from Paris to Cannes aboard the Duke of Westminster's yacht was quickly transformed into a trend-setting fad that was unprecedented. Tanning became a sign of leisure, of wealth, the sign that someone was able to take a vacation, preferably in a warm sunny place. The idolatry angle of the golden sun’s effect was also to manifest itself through the adoration of Josephine Baker who, with her outré style of performance and caramel skin, mesmerized Parisians into wanting to emulate her. Famous fashion photographer Cecil Beaton describes the Duchess of Penaranda in the pages of Vogue magazine:
"She wore sunburn stockings with white satin shoes...the duchess's complexion matched her stockings, for she was burned by the sun to a deep shade of iodine."
Jean Patou could not let this new ideal slip through his grasp like grains of sand between a sunbather’s fingers: he acted fast with Huile de Chaldée, one of the first sun-tanning oils which Henri Alméras, then in-house perfumer to Patou, re-interpreted in fine fragrance simply named Chaldée in 1927. The chosen name was to recall an ancient Babylonian region famed for its amber-skinned beauties. Chaldée with its deap, oily-smelling ambery character bears no relation to modern aspirations to being a Bronze Goddess, no matter how pleasant those might be.
A terrible dawn is showing through the parapets of Chaldea and, as the initial darkness of the night ~heavy with the fatty smell of hyacinths~ lifts, slowly you see upon the ziggurat the woman, adorned in candied tones of orange blossoms; her warm, pulsating flesh offered as an oracle and sacrifice to the all consuming Shamash. Her skin deeply bronzed, emanating all the aromas of Arabia, resiny, intimate, fetid. You can see the furtive but excited looks of the common folk awaiting, smell their humanness. The great knife is raised and swoosh… there flows the blood; scarlet, young, full of life, spent to join Nergal.
Today we know better than to sacrifice our flesh on the altar of Sun almighty in order to achieve the bronze looks and feel of powdered warmth the sun gives us. Yet as author Naomi Wolf notes in her controversial book, "The Beauty Myth", in 1991
"the discovery of photo-aging has created a phobia of the sun entirely unrelated to the risk of skin cancer [...]turning nature into a fearsome enemy from the male tradition's point of view [...]which stimulates women's fears of lookingWorth pondering on...
older in order to drive us in the opposite direction: indoors once more...the
proper place for women in every culture that most oppresses us."
In the meantime slip out a bottle of Chaldée, immerse yourself into its golden nectar and imagine yourself a bloodless Sun-offer.
Notes for Chaldee: orange blossom, hyacinth, jasmine, daffodil, lily of the valley, vanilla, opopanax, amber.
Pic of carnelian stamp seal, Neo-Babylonian Dynasty, about 700-550 BC from Babylon, southern Iraq, courtesy of the British Museum. Pic of Chaldee courtesy of fragranceglobe.com
Labels:
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ma collection,
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Monday, June 23, 2008
Patou Ma Collection: part 1 ~Amour Amour,Que Sais Je, Adieu Sagesse reviews
With poetic and mischievous names such as Adieu Sagesse (goodbye wisdom) or Divine Folie (divine folly) the twelve fragrances comprising Jean Patou’s “Ma Collection” pose their own little enigmas for the modern perfumphile to decipher. “Ma Collection” consists of twelve perfumes originally launched between 1925 and 1964, then re-released in 1984 under the wing of Jean Kérleo, then in-house perfumer at Patou (1967-1997) and now president of L’Osmothèque.
The formulae were reputedly reproduced faithfully to the degree that it was realistically possible, making them fascinating facets of their era in more ways than one, but earning them alas the misfortune of ultimately getting discontinued.
Despite Patou’s fame for perennial Joy, the house’s history mainly stood upon his amazing grasp of the mood of the times, translating into fashion visions, a trait also eminently apparent in “Ma Collection”. Many of the "Ma Collection" perfumes along with other 20s fragrances share an aromatic base which threads common tonalities among them. Although olfactory gems, these are scents very much embedded in their time frame. A vast ocean of difference divides them from today's fragrances.
Born in 1887 in Normandy and dead in 1936, Jean Patou was the son of a tanner and nephew of a fur-maker, joining the latter in 1907. In a few years he had moved to Paris at the small Maison Parry where he became a dressmaker earning the loyalty of a devoted clientele and opening his own house in 1914. After a stint as Captain of Zouaves during WWI, he launched his first couture collection under his own name in 1919. Success prompted him to open a New York office to cater to the demand of his numerous American clients. Impressed by the long legs of the Americans, he brought back with him 6 models (after auditioning 500), causing uproar in the French press. Later he expanded into a Coin des Sports in 1925 (with a separate space for each sport), as well as shops in the resorts of Deauville and Biarritz.
Understanding the 1920s ideal, youthful and physically fit, and admiring the American simple cuts and architectural seam lines, he was the first to introduce the casual elegance of sportswear for women and complementary accessories with his JP monogram outlined on pockets. Suzanne Lenglen, tennis Wimbledon star, wore Patou clothes on and off the court, while Ruth Elder, the American aviator, was another client. Women everywhere suddenly wanted to emulate the new lank look. But his flamboyant interpretation of contemporary art movements, such as Cubism, was the headstart for imaginative creations such as the iconic cubist sweaters. His younger sister Madeleine, an active, modern woman, also provided inspiration. His rivalry with iconoclast Chanel was of epic proportions, becoming a legend, yet it was Patou who dropped the hemline and raised the waistline, with Coco following suit.
Patou like Chanel was also among the first couturiers to include perfumes as part of a collection, a vehicle to instigate a sense of coherence to fashion houses, founding the fragrance division in 1923. He introduced his first three together in 1925, with the help of Paul Poiret's perfumer, Henri Alméras. According to Jean de Moüy, Patou’s great-nephew, they were inspired by the stages of a love affair and interestingly each was conceived for a woman of specific hair colour: Amour Amour, symbolizing the whirlwind start when heart first beats, was created for blondes; Que sais je? (What do I know?), intended for brunettes, represents the questioning whether to act upon one’s feelings; while Adieu Sagesse (goodbye wisdom), fit for redheads, signals the decision of abandonement into eros.
The bottles were designed by architect Louis Süe who also created the bottle of Joy while illustrations were by André Mare.
Upon encountering the romantic nature of Patou's Amour Amour one realises that it serves as the precursor of the floral symphony in Joy. The similarity is more pronounced at the start, with the dominance of sweet jasmine and delicate rose, while later on Amour flies into brighter, soapier arpegios of lily of the valley with a slight touch of Hesperides and salty ambergris recalling a striking gouache in sunny colours.
Although it was allegedly claimed by Marcel Billot, its true creators are Alméras and also Marius Reboul from Givaudan who contributed with the 30% inclusion of one of his bases*.
Notes for Amour Amour: bergamot, strawberry, lemon, ylang-ylang, rose, lily, carnation, heliotrope, vetiver, civet, honey, ambergris.
Que sais je? would be my choice out of this magnificent trio by Patou and not only for chromatically matching reasons; a decadent chypre with a peachy-plummy opening and a nutty aspect. Discreet touches of gourmand delights err on the side of honey and spices with a heart of generous orange blossom seguing into mossy and animalic notes which hint at some naughty affair. Resembling liquid citrines or ambery topaz mounted in gold, Que sais-je is a luxury that should be savoured in measured quantities like exquisite jewels that exhibit themselves best on black velvet.
Luca Turin likens it to Gianduja, a type of nutty chocolate candy first prepared by Pierre Paul Caffarel and recommends it for those who dislike the vanilla in Shalimar. However it is mostly reminiscent of Femme, especially the reformulated version with its sexier character including sweaty cumin. Was Olivier Cresp, responsible for the latter, inwardly influenced by Que Sais-je? I can also see it being a distant inspiration for the playful hazelnut accord in Deci Delà by Nina Ricci.
Notes for Que sais-je?: peach, honey, hazelnut wood
Dabbing a little Adieu Sagesse is akin to forgetting my everyday existence and imagining myself as a heroine in "Tender is the Night", replete with villa at the South of France and a disturbing yet intriguing background story. A crisp floral centered on the headiness of narcissus with a generous spicy eugenol accord recalling cloves and carnations and warm powdery notes due to opoponax, Patou's Adieu Sagesse shares a mysterious quality with the other two fragrances and dries into a sexy odour like a fur stole that has been kept at a carnation-filled boudoir.
Notes for Adieu Sagesse: bergamot, blackcurrant, daffodil, neroli, lily, jonquil, lily of the valley, carnation, tuberose, rose, jasmine, vetiver, musk, civet.
The "Ma Collection" fragrances are now sadly discontinued, but some of them appear online from time to time (such as on Fragrance Globe), or in shops with overstock. Eaux de Toilette come in splash or spray. The Parfum comes in 30 ml/1oz. flacon wrapped in a silk pochette. All twelve of the fragrances are sold together as collectible Eaux de Toilette minis.
Readers who will comment on the posts of the Patou “Ma Collection” Series enter the draw for a complete set of samples of all 12 fragrances.
To be continued...
Pics from ebay,1st perfume, perfumeshop.com and fragranceglobe.com.
*Info & ad provided by Octavian Coiffan
The formulae were reputedly reproduced faithfully to the degree that it was realistically possible, making them fascinating facets of their era in more ways than one, but earning them alas the misfortune of ultimately getting discontinued.
Despite Patou’s fame for perennial Joy, the house’s history mainly stood upon his amazing grasp of the mood of the times, translating into fashion visions, a trait also eminently apparent in “Ma Collection”. Many of the "Ma Collection" perfumes along with other 20s fragrances share an aromatic base which threads common tonalities among them. Although olfactory gems, these are scents very much embedded in their time frame. A vast ocean of difference divides them from today's fragrances.
Born in 1887 in Normandy and dead in 1936, Jean Patou was the son of a tanner and nephew of a fur-maker, joining the latter in 1907. In a few years he had moved to Paris at the small Maison Parry where he became a dressmaker earning the loyalty of a devoted clientele and opening his own house in 1914. After a stint as Captain of Zouaves during WWI, he launched his first couture collection under his own name in 1919. Success prompted him to open a New York office to cater to the demand of his numerous American clients. Impressed by the long legs of the Americans, he brought back with him 6 models (after auditioning 500), causing uproar in the French press. Later he expanded into a Coin des Sports in 1925 (with a separate space for each sport), as well as shops in the resorts of Deauville and Biarritz.
Understanding the 1920s ideal, youthful and physically fit, and admiring the American simple cuts and architectural seam lines, he was the first to introduce the casual elegance of sportswear for women and complementary accessories with his JP monogram outlined on pockets. Suzanne Lenglen, tennis Wimbledon star, wore Patou clothes on and off the court, while Ruth Elder, the American aviator, was another client. Women everywhere suddenly wanted to emulate the new lank look. But his flamboyant interpretation of contemporary art movements, such as Cubism, was the headstart for imaginative creations such as the iconic cubist sweaters. His younger sister Madeleine, an active, modern woman, also provided inspiration. His rivalry with iconoclast Chanel was of epic proportions, becoming a legend, yet it was Patou who dropped the hemline and raised the waistline, with Coco following suit.
Patou like Chanel was also among the first couturiers to include perfumes as part of a collection, a vehicle to instigate a sense of coherence to fashion houses, founding the fragrance division in 1923. He introduced his first three together in 1925, with the help of Paul Poiret's perfumer, Henri Alméras. According to Jean de Moüy, Patou’s great-nephew, they were inspired by the stages of a love affair and interestingly each was conceived for a woman of specific hair colour: Amour Amour, symbolizing the whirlwind start when heart first beats, was created for blondes; Que sais je? (What do I know?), intended for brunettes, represents the questioning whether to act upon one’s feelings; while Adieu Sagesse (goodbye wisdom), fit for redheads, signals the decision of abandonement into eros.
The bottles were designed by architect Louis Süe who also created the bottle of Joy while illustrations were by André Mare.
Upon encountering the romantic nature of Patou's Amour Amour one realises that it serves as the precursor of the floral symphony in Joy. The similarity is more pronounced at the start, with the dominance of sweet jasmine and delicate rose, while later on Amour flies into brighter, soapier arpegios of lily of the valley with a slight touch of Hesperides and salty ambergris recalling a striking gouache in sunny colours.
Although it was allegedly claimed by Marcel Billot, its true creators are Alméras and also Marius Reboul from Givaudan who contributed with the 30% inclusion of one of his bases*.
Notes for Amour Amour: bergamot, strawberry, lemon, ylang-ylang, rose, lily, carnation, heliotrope, vetiver, civet, honey, ambergris.
Que sais je? would be my choice out of this magnificent trio by Patou and not only for chromatically matching reasons; a decadent chypre with a peachy-plummy opening and a nutty aspect. Discreet touches of gourmand delights err on the side of honey and spices with a heart of generous orange blossom seguing into mossy and animalic notes which hint at some naughty affair. Resembling liquid citrines or ambery topaz mounted in gold, Que sais-je is a luxury that should be savoured in measured quantities like exquisite jewels that exhibit themselves best on black velvet.
Luca Turin likens it to Gianduja, a type of nutty chocolate candy first prepared by Pierre Paul Caffarel and recommends it for those who dislike the vanilla in Shalimar. However it is mostly reminiscent of Femme, especially the reformulated version with its sexier character including sweaty cumin. Was Olivier Cresp, responsible for the latter, inwardly influenced by Que Sais-je? I can also see it being a distant inspiration for the playful hazelnut accord in Deci Delà by Nina Ricci.
Notes for Que sais-je?: peach, honey, hazelnut wood
Dabbing a little Adieu Sagesse is akin to forgetting my everyday existence and imagining myself as a heroine in "Tender is the Night", replete with villa at the South of France and a disturbing yet intriguing background story. A crisp floral centered on the headiness of narcissus with a generous spicy eugenol accord recalling cloves and carnations and warm powdery notes due to opoponax, Patou's Adieu Sagesse shares a mysterious quality with the other two fragrances and dries into a sexy odour like a fur stole that has been kept at a carnation-filled boudoir.
Notes for Adieu Sagesse: bergamot, blackcurrant, daffodil, neroli, lily, jonquil, lily of the valley, carnation, tuberose, rose, jasmine, vetiver, musk, civet.
The "Ma Collection" fragrances are now sadly discontinued, but some of them appear online from time to time (such as on Fragrance Globe), or in shops with overstock. Eaux de Toilette come in splash or spray. The Parfum comes in 30 ml/1oz. flacon wrapped in a silk pochette. All twelve of the fragrances are sold together as collectible Eaux de Toilette minis.
Readers who will comment on the posts of the Patou “Ma Collection” Series enter the draw for a complete set of samples of all 12 fragrances.
To be continued...
Pics from ebay,1st perfume, perfumeshop.com and fragranceglobe.com.
*Info & ad provided by Octavian Coiffan
Sunday, June 22, 2008
Optical Scentsibilities: Guerlain Vintage Ads
Perfume Shrine has always been greatly interested in the visualisation of fragrance and the aesthetics which dictate the delivery of any fragrance's message. In that regard one of the most intriguing houses is that of Guerlain, both for its historical scope which allows to monitor the progression of social and artistic expectations of what a perfume advertisment should entail and for its use of talented illustrators such as Vassi, Leonard, E.Darcy, Charnotet, Mik and Nikasinovich.
A great collection of mainly 1930s Guerlain advertising is collected in this wonderful link via L'express.fr, with the inclusion of the magnificent and coherent "Are you her type?" 1935 series by Elise Darcy for each of the great feminins of the time.
And those that were missing from that, well, we added ourselves!
Click here for a slideshow of precious, vintage Guerlain advertisements.
Pics through femina.fr , beautyandthedirt.co.uk and mr.guerlain
A great collection of mainly 1930s Guerlain advertising is collected in this wonderful link via L'express.fr, with the inclusion of the magnificent and coherent "Are you her type?" 1935 series by Elise Darcy for each of the great feminins of the time.
And those that were missing from that, well, we added ourselves!
Click here for a slideshow of precious, vintage Guerlain advertisements.
Pics through femina.fr , beautyandthedirt.co.uk and mr.guerlain
Baby Doll Limited Edition Goodies
Yves Saint Laurent Beauté is releasing a very limited edition of its famous Baby Doll Perfumed Body Powder. They entice us with this: "Leave your skin delicately scented with a sparkling body powder – perfect for pampering, and impossible to resist, the Baby Doll woman has never been so seductive!" It is available for $32 on YSL US Official Online Store which you can see clicking here.
A mini set of limited edition coloured bottles of Baby Doll is also available for the same price:
Click here to see the set. Either would make a fun gift.
And while you're there, take a moment to see the fragrance section for women and for men. Beautifully done!
A mini set of limited edition coloured bottles of Baby Doll is also available for the same price:
Playful and chic, these Baby Doll Miniatures are decorated with greedy colors (pale pink, strawberry-pink, pale blue and orange) and displayed in small colored paper cases, like chocolates. The soft-pink box decorated with a precious gold décor is inspired by traditional macaroons boxes. Witty and chic, the scent is fresh and appetizing with a mischievous trail. A fruity floral harmony. ~Opening: Grapefruit, Character: Wild Rose, Red Currant, Grenadine, Structure: Cedarwood
Click here to see the set. Either would make a fun gift.
And while you're there, take a moment to see the fragrance section for women and for men. Beautifully done!
Friday, June 20, 2008
Why do Fragrances Smell the Same?
Why do fragrances smell the same? This is a question that many people ask themselves when they're sampling fragrances spanning the spectrum from mainstream to selective distribution to niche to drugstore and of course knock-offs. Because professionals "shoot" the juice! This is industry-speak for analysing the formula (the "recipe" so to speak) of any bestseller or indeed any new perfume on the market using a gas chromatograph. The gas chromatogaph is a machine that separates the individual molecules that make up a fragrance, puts them on a sort of conveyor belt and then identifies them one by one. In tandem with a mass spectrometer they analyse what goes into a given fragrance which then allows technicians to replicate any formula, rendering it common knowledge and no longer secret.
But why are formulae secret in the first place, if it is so simple to break them down like a secret WWII code broken by the Enigma? The answer is two-fold.
First, because the perfumery world works in conservative, traditional mores, some would almost say obsolete: it was the custom of the medieval societies and guilds such as the gantiers et perfumers (those are the precursors of formal perfumers as they were scenting the leather gloves of the aristocracy to get rid of the smell of raw hide and then progressed into producing seperate fragrances for the body). They kept the formulae secret because in an age of low technological advancement it meant that their clients would have to get back to them to have their perfume replenished when they ran out, ensuring them a prosperous business.
Secondly, because in an equally anachronistic twist no one has contracts to protect themselves. It's true that the big brands, for example Gucci, Yves Saint Laurent or Givenchy, do not have possession of their own formulae for their perfumes. Those form intellectual property of the big aromachemical companies which produce the actual juice for them, such as IFF or Givaudan or Symrise etc.
But here's the catch: those perfume-making companies do not have a specific contract with the customer companies who own those brands (for instance LVMH who owns Givenchy). Therefore said company could very well take the "shot" juice to another perfume-making company and ask them to do a miniscule twist (say change a 0.1% of the formula, which will mean that the consumer will never understand the difference in smelling the finished product) and go on producing it more cheaply and make more money in the process! Should the first company ever take them to court ~which they never in a million years do because it would mean that they would lose all subsequent briefs from that gigantic customer~ they would de iuro lose the case, because of that little twist. Technically it just wouldn't be exactly the same. And legalese is very bent on the "technically" part.
Therefore the formulae theoretically are secret but in practice they circulate behind backs (no one admits it openly!) and get copied almost instantly: within days of actual release.
Of course in business terms, unless we are talking about knock-offs which by definition aim to be photocopies of the original, there wouldn't be much point in making something exactly the same as something else on the market. You could of course, in light of the above, but why would you? It would be even better to give a twist in the top-notes so as to fool the consumer into thinking they're buying something else, when in fact the core of the formula is the same. Repackage, rename, relaunch with a different image and you got yourself a hit. If not as big as the original one, then at least a very lucrative one that basks in the glow of the success of the first one.
Is there no way to get out of this mess, you'd be asking yourselves by now. It has been intimated to me that certain smart perfumers, of who I am in no liberty to reveal their names, have devised little tricks to fool the gas chromatograph by including red herrings. Those in essence are minute amounts of materials that do not actually contribute to the formula's olfactory result but act as decoys. And in order to accomplish that, those materials are naturals; because naturals contain hundreds of molecules instead of the single molecule or in any case much simpler contruction of aromachemicals. Yet, what one man constructs, another finds a way to break down. Lab technicians understand that the quantities are exceedingly small and although it slows them down, in the end with a little creative twinkering they still manage to come up with a quite plausible copy.
And this dear readers is why your new fragrance is smelling so much like the one you had in your cupboard all along and why the market is saturated with endless versions of the same recipes over and over again to the point of fatigue. In a high-tech market that worships sameness for the sake of familiarity, since psychology teaches us that the familiar creates a sense a security and comfort resulting in the desired sales, there is sadly no light at the end of the tunnel.
Pic of WWII poster via history1990s.about.com
But why are formulae secret in the first place, if it is so simple to break them down like a secret WWII code broken by the Enigma? The answer is two-fold.
First, because the perfumery world works in conservative, traditional mores, some would almost say obsolete: it was the custom of the medieval societies and guilds such as the gantiers et perfumers (those are the precursors of formal perfumers as they were scenting the leather gloves of the aristocracy to get rid of the smell of raw hide and then progressed into producing seperate fragrances for the body). They kept the formulae secret because in an age of low technological advancement it meant that their clients would have to get back to them to have their perfume replenished when they ran out, ensuring them a prosperous business.
Secondly, because in an equally anachronistic twist no one has contracts to protect themselves. It's true that the big brands, for example Gucci, Yves Saint Laurent or Givenchy, do not have possession of their own formulae for their perfumes. Those form intellectual property of the big aromachemical companies which produce the actual juice for them, such as IFF or Givaudan or Symrise etc.
But here's the catch: those perfume-making companies do not have a specific contract with the customer companies who own those brands (for instance LVMH who owns Givenchy). Therefore said company could very well take the "shot" juice to another perfume-making company and ask them to do a miniscule twist (say change a 0.1% of the formula, which will mean that the consumer will never understand the difference in smelling the finished product) and go on producing it more cheaply and make more money in the process! Should the first company ever take them to court ~which they never in a million years do because it would mean that they would lose all subsequent briefs from that gigantic customer~ they would de iuro lose the case, because of that little twist. Technically it just wouldn't be exactly the same. And legalese is very bent on the "technically" part.
Therefore the formulae theoretically are secret but in practice they circulate behind backs (no one admits it openly!) and get copied almost instantly: within days of actual release.
Of course in business terms, unless we are talking about knock-offs which by definition aim to be photocopies of the original, there wouldn't be much point in making something exactly the same as something else on the market. You could of course, in light of the above, but why would you? It would be even better to give a twist in the top-notes so as to fool the consumer into thinking they're buying something else, when in fact the core of the formula is the same. Repackage, rename, relaunch with a different image and you got yourself a hit. If not as big as the original one, then at least a very lucrative one that basks in the glow of the success of the first one.
Is there no way to get out of this mess, you'd be asking yourselves by now. It has been intimated to me that certain smart perfumers, of who I am in no liberty to reveal their names, have devised little tricks to fool the gas chromatograph by including red herrings. Those in essence are minute amounts of materials that do not actually contribute to the formula's olfactory result but act as decoys. And in order to accomplish that, those materials are naturals; because naturals contain hundreds of molecules instead of the single molecule or in any case much simpler contruction of aromachemicals. Yet, what one man constructs, another finds a way to break down. Lab technicians understand that the quantities are exceedingly small and although it slows them down, in the end with a little creative twinkering they still manage to come up with a quite plausible copy.
And this dear readers is why your new fragrance is smelling so much like the one you had in your cupboard all along and why the market is saturated with endless versions of the same recipes over and over again to the point of fatigue. In a high-tech market that worships sameness for the sake of familiarity, since psychology teaches us that the familiar creates a sense a security and comfort resulting in the desired sales, there is sadly no light at the end of the tunnel.
Pic of WWII poster via history1990s.about.com
Thursday, June 19, 2008
Twin Peaks: Un Lys and DK Gold
I had written that Un Lys by Serge Lutens represents the dying breath of an angel in heaven. Such is its poetic licence that you have to approach it with sacred awe.
Donna Karan strived for a comparative effect with her Gold fragrance for women in 2006. Its mix of vibrant lily with animalic profundity puts Gold on a pedestral of worship, that of a stony goddess who demands the coming of Choephoroi.
The fragrance necessitated no less than 3 perfumers of the caliber of Yann Vasnier, Calice Becker and Rodrigo-Flores Roux. Usually that would be a recipe for disaster (too many opinions and twinkering often lead to an incoherent vision), yet in Gold the result is none the worse for trying.
The main accord focuses on bright, trembling with life lily, suave woods plus musk, effecting a round and creamy composition accented with discernable jasmine adding its indolic glory.
The opening of Donna Karan Gold has the dewy freshness of green tonalities of muguet, vaguely reminiscent of the green overture of Annick Goutal's Des Lys (another floriental focusing on Casablanca lilies) and the sharper start of Lys Mediteranée by F.Malle. Although the floral phase is clearly discernible from the start, the more the scent dries down the more the sensuous aspects reveal themselves beneath the droplets of lucid coolness.
Underneath a camphoreous scent is peeking through, like a riddle on the edge of the screenshot in a Greenaway film: now you see it and now you don't.
The development of Gold in the Eau de Parfum adds a very alluring animalic submantle which hints at ductile leather and ambergris rather than the traditional resinous amber mentioned, yet it doesn't do so with too much rebelliousness, remaining a sensual touch warming the proceedings and adding gravitas. Perhaps Gold, although certainly not ground-breaking, is a knowing wink of Donna Karan to her first perfume, the long discontinued Donna Karan New York in the phallic black bottle, which utilized lily, amber and suede to great effect.
Compared to Serge Lutens Un Lys with its mellifluous vanilla merging flowers with a dancing cloud, cherubically ethereal and featherbed soft at the same time, Gold stands as a drier, less sweet composition; but for those with no access to the exclusive Lutens it's a good alternative.
Notes for Un Lys: lily, musk, vanilla.
For DK Gold: Casablanca Lily, Amber, Acacia, White Clove, Golden Balsam*, Gold Pollen and Patchouli.
*a mix of Peru tolu balsam, olibanum, benzoin, vanilla, and cistus
Please note that Donna Karan Gold comes in Eau de Parfum concentration, which is warmer and much more complex than the more aqueous and linear Eau de Toilette, as well as a Sparkling Eau de Toilette. Between those versions Eau de Parfum is highly recommended per above. Parfum amplifies the cistus and incense with more vanilla.
The elegant bottle is created by jewellery designer Robert Lee Morris.
Un Lys , being a non-export fragrance, is only sold at Les Salons du Palais Royal Shiseido, who ship across Europe, while a few remaining bottles of the limited edition in export oblong bottles can be found at select few Lutens sellers.
Pic of Gold bottles courtesy of Donna Karan Beauty
Donna Karan strived for a comparative effect with her Gold fragrance for women in 2006. Its mix of vibrant lily with animalic profundity puts Gold on a pedestral of worship, that of a stony goddess who demands the coming of Choephoroi.
The fragrance necessitated no less than 3 perfumers of the caliber of Yann Vasnier, Calice Becker and Rodrigo-Flores Roux. Usually that would be a recipe for disaster (too many opinions and twinkering often lead to an incoherent vision), yet in Gold the result is none the worse for trying.
The main accord focuses on bright, trembling with life lily, suave woods plus musk, effecting a round and creamy composition accented with discernable jasmine adding its indolic glory.
The opening of Donna Karan Gold has the dewy freshness of green tonalities of muguet, vaguely reminiscent of the green overture of Annick Goutal's Des Lys (another floriental focusing on Casablanca lilies) and the sharper start of Lys Mediteranée by F.Malle. Although the floral phase is clearly discernible from the start, the more the scent dries down the more the sensuous aspects reveal themselves beneath the droplets of lucid coolness.
Underneath a camphoreous scent is peeking through, like a riddle on the edge of the screenshot in a Greenaway film: now you see it and now you don't.
The development of Gold in the Eau de Parfum adds a very alluring animalic submantle which hints at ductile leather and ambergris rather than the traditional resinous amber mentioned, yet it doesn't do so with too much rebelliousness, remaining a sensual touch warming the proceedings and adding gravitas. Perhaps Gold, although certainly not ground-breaking, is a knowing wink of Donna Karan to her first perfume, the long discontinued Donna Karan New York in the phallic black bottle, which utilized lily, amber and suede to great effect.
Compared to Serge Lutens Un Lys with its mellifluous vanilla merging flowers with a dancing cloud, cherubically ethereal and featherbed soft at the same time, Gold stands as a drier, less sweet composition; but for those with no access to the exclusive Lutens it's a good alternative.
Notes for Un Lys: lily, musk, vanilla.
For DK Gold: Casablanca Lily, Amber, Acacia, White Clove, Golden Balsam*, Gold Pollen and Patchouli.
*a mix of Peru tolu balsam, olibanum, benzoin, vanilla, and cistus
Please note that Donna Karan Gold comes in Eau de Parfum concentration, which is warmer and much more complex than the more aqueous and linear Eau de Toilette, as well as a Sparkling Eau de Toilette. Between those versions Eau de Parfum is highly recommended per above. Parfum amplifies the cistus and incense with more vanilla.
The elegant bottle is created by jewellery designer Robert Lee Morris.
Un Lys , being a non-export fragrance, is only sold at Les Salons du Palais Royal Shiseido, who ship across Europe, while a few remaining bottles of the limited edition in export oblong bottles can be found at select few Lutens sellers.
Pic of Gold bottles courtesy of Donna Karan Beauty
Labels:
Donna Karan,
gold,
review,
serge lutens,
smell alike,
twin peaks,
un lys
Wednesday, June 18, 2008
Histoires de Parfums Colette 1873: fragrance review
"If I can't have too many truffles, I'll do without truffles", Colette used to say. Although earthy truffles do not feature in the confines of 1873 Colette by Histoires de Parfums, the fragrance inspired by her personality, her sense of abandon to the sensuous side of life is clearly manifested in its wake.
I can very well remember the days when I was a fledging young miss, still a schoolgirl learning French at L’Institut Français reading the semi-autobiographical Claudine novels which to my young eyes (and those of La Belle Epoque too) seemed naughty and mischievous. How innocent my childish eyes were! Re-reading them as an adult I find them rather tame yet utterly charming and revealing of the character of Colette, the woman.
Inside her family garden of Bourgogne, young Sidonie Gabrielle Colette experienced her first steps as a writer, surrounded by roses and field flowers. Although she is famous for saying that a happy childhood is poor preparation for human contacts, she seems to have flourished on the latter, from her first marriage to "Willy" who got her into writing, penning the Claudine series under his name, to her affairs with women, another with her stepson from her second marriage, her third husband and finally her friendship with her famous neighbour Jean Cocteau in the Jardins du Palais-Royal.
Having chosen her surname as a pen name, she was to become an admired literary woman, famous for both her literary and sensual freedom.
Reflecting this fizzy woman, 1873 Colette is a gourmand yet refined hesperidic fragrance, in which unsettling white flowers blossom in a light bubble, sparkling with tangerine and lemon.
The opening of 1873 Colette unmistakeably reminds me of candied kumquat, which is by turn inextricably tied to my mind with Nymphes (numphs) on the Greek island of Corfu, whose shores lap the waves of the Ioanian sea and the Adriatic. The succulent delicacy possesses a contrast of flavours that surprises the taste buds with its journey from bitter and sweet to the sour of the core and the crystallised crust of white sugar around that cracks under the bite of teeth. The wonderful liquer made of kumquats has a honeyed touch reminiscent of ripe orange blossoms with their fresh yet indolic aroma when they are about to swoon dying on a white sheet before exuding their last breath of scent for the benefit of an amateur enfleurage.
This delicious aroma persists for most of the length of time 1873 Colette stays poised on the skin, later flanked by the delectable orange blossoms and the never too sweet caramelised aspects of lavender with a subtle vanillic touch, imparting a desire to stick your nose to your wrists with a glutton's eagerness in front of his favourite dishes.
The collection Histoires de Parfums created by Gérald Ghislain is governed by no rules other than inspiration. This loquacious individual with roots in the Mediterranean chose to bring his literary heroes to life in perfume, a sensitive and sensual medium: authors, books and materials become stories which unfold on skin, to be read by those sensitive enough to appreciate this flight of fancy.
Notes:
Top: all the citrus fruits from sunshine countries
Heart: orange blossom, lily of the valley, lavender
Base: vanilla, white musks, caramel
1873 Colette by Histoires de parfums comes in Eau de Parfum:
120 ml for 130 € / 4oz for $115.00 (yes, it is cheaper in the US!)
The US site features the older bottle, while the European sites feature the new edition bottle.
You can buy directly from Histoires de parfums, First in Fragrance and MioMia.
Fabulous price on the sampler pack: set of 12 vials for 5€ on the official site.
Pic of Colette by Irvin Penn (1951) via the photographer's archive.
I can very well remember the days when I was a fledging young miss, still a schoolgirl learning French at L’Institut Français reading the semi-autobiographical Claudine novels which to my young eyes (and those of La Belle Epoque too) seemed naughty and mischievous. How innocent my childish eyes were! Re-reading them as an adult I find them rather tame yet utterly charming and revealing of the character of Colette, the woman.
Inside her family garden of Bourgogne, young Sidonie Gabrielle Colette experienced her first steps as a writer, surrounded by roses and field flowers. Although she is famous for saying that a happy childhood is poor preparation for human contacts, she seems to have flourished on the latter, from her first marriage to "Willy" who got her into writing, penning the Claudine series under his name, to her affairs with women, another with her stepson from her second marriage, her third husband and finally her friendship with her famous neighbour Jean Cocteau in the Jardins du Palais-Royal.
Having chosen her surname as a pen name, she was to become an admired literary woman, famous for both her literary and sensual freedom.
Reflecting this fizzy woman, 1873 Colette is a gourmand yet refined hesperidic fragrance, in which unsettling white flowers blossom in a light bubble, sparkling with tangerine and lemon.
The opening of 1873 Colette unmistakeably reminds me of candied kumquat, which is by turn inextricably tied to my mind with Nymphes (numphs) on the Greek island of Corfu, whose shores lap the waves of the Ioanian sea and the Adriatic. The succulent delicacy possesses a contrast of flavours that surprises the taste buds with its journey from bitter and sweet to the sour of the core and the crystallised crust of white sugar around that cracks under the bite of teeth. The wonderful liquer made of kumquats has a honeyed touch reminiscent of ripe orange blossoms with their fresh yet indolic aroma when they are about to swoon dying on a white sheet before exuding their last breath of scent for the benefit of an amateur enfleurage.
This delicious aroma persists for most of the length of time 1873 Colette stays poised on the skin, later flanked by the delectable orange blossoms and the never too sweet caramelised aspects of lavender with a subtle vanillic touch, imparting a desire to stick your nose to your wrists with a glutton's eagerness in front of his favourite dishes.
The collection Histoires de Parfums created by Gérald Ghislain is governed by no rules other than inspiration. This loquacious individual with roots in the Mediterranean chose to bring his literary heroes to life in perfume, a sensitive and sensual medium: authors, books and materials become stories which unfold on skin, to be read by those sensitive enough to appreciate this flight of fancy.
Notes:
Top: all the citrus fruits from sunshine countries
Heart: orange blossom, lily of the valley, lavender
Base: vanilla, white musks, caramel
1873 Colette by Histoires de parfums comes in Eau de Parfum:
120 ml for 130 € / 4oz for $115.00 (yes, it is cheaper in the US!)
The US site features the older bottle, while the European sites feature the new edition bottle.
You can buy directly from Histoires de parfums, First in Fragrance and MioMia.
Fabulous price on the sampler pack: set of 12 vials for 5€ on the official site.
Pic of Colette by Irvin Penn (1951) via the photographer's archive.
Labels:
colette,
fruity,
histoires de parfums,
kumquat,
review
Tuesday, June 17, 2008
When Pigs Start to Fly
Remember when a couple of days ago we -as everyone else, I gather- reported that Emma Watson would be the new face of Chanel for Coco Mademoiselle, replacing Keira Knigthly?
Well, bogus, Chanel publicists tell us... The Daily Mail (surely not the bastion of journalistic integrity) have probably got carried away with their hypothesis based on the fact that Emma had been wearing Chanel in all formal events lately (and why not?). It did seem rather too soon, one has to admit.
An anonymous reader of Perfume Shrine, who is obviously a Keira loyal fan, opened our eyes with their entertaining comments to this latest news. What can I say? Nice pic you chose, though, Daily Mail!
So, discuss among yourselves: Why the face of a new perfume is so important as to instigate false rumours? Why is it circulated in the press? How could the consumer identify with anyone, really, as the face of something abstract like a fragrance?
And a reminder: there are still samples available for Tulipano on the Hilde Soliani post, so comment there if you want to get the few remaining ones.
Pic of flying pig (cute!) from Anastrophe and Cheese.
Well, bogus, Chanel publicists tell us... The Daily Mail (surely not the bastion of journalistic integrity) have probably got carried away with their hypothesis based on the fact that Emma had been wearing Chanel in all formal events lately (and why not?). It did seem rather too soon, one has to admit.
An anonymous reader of Perfume Shrine, who is obviously a Keira loyal fan, opened our eyes with their entertaining comments to this latest news. What can I say? Nice pic you chose, though, Daily Mail!
So, discuss among yourselves: Why the face of a new perfume is so important as to instigate false rumours? Why is it circulated in the press? How could the consumer identify with anyone, really, as the face of something abstract like a fragrance?
And a reminder: there are still samples available for Tulipano on the Hilde Soliani post, so comment there if you want to get the few remaining ones.
Pic of flying pig (cute!) from Anastrophe and Cheese.
Labels:
chanel,
emma watson,
keira knightly,
rumour
Monday, June 16, 2008
Ti Amo, Amore Mio!
Living in Italy, Parma especially with its tradition of Verdi's operas, is like surrounding yourself by culture the way other people in other places are surrounded by skyscrapers, Taco Bells or hay fields full of cows. It just isn't quite the same!
Italian artist and jewellery designer Hilde Soliani is one such person, lucky to live and breathe around quality.
She has created five original perfumes inspired by five flowers, communicating universal love through an acronym for "I love you" (Ti Amo in Italian):
T.ulipano (red bottle- floral fruity woody - unisex)
I. ris (lilac bottle- floral woody musk- feminine)
A.nemone (orange bottle- woody aromatic- unisex)
M.argherita (blue bottle- floral- feminine)
O.rtensia (pink bottle- floral woody musk- feminine)
Just how she started designing fragrances recalls La Forza del Destino: a journalist seeded the idea. Hilde is primarily an artist ~she designs jewellery, she paints, she plays in the Parma theatre, using her voice and her body to convey her feelings. What started in jest and on a dare however, essentially a private hobby, has now become her "job".
Each "flower" is an abstract rendition, rather than a faithful representation of nature (a couple of them don't even have a particular scent and she is not interested in a photorealistic approximation by her own admission). Each reminds Hilde of a precious memory: Tulipano is a memento of her father's voice and warmth. Iris stands for Italian elegance. Anemone recalls the scent of the Parman theatre. Margherita symbolises her happy childhood. Ortensia reminds her of the kiss of her beloved grandmother.
The scents also tell a fairy tale, "La Mia Daisy", inspired by Soliani's grandmother's daisy creation: the fictional story of a girl named Daisy, a five-act play with the happy ending of a discovery of an enchanted place: a touch that makes us dream again, like children. As Hilde says: “I want to bring art into daily life.” She enjoys art which expresses itself in a childlike, playful character.
Tulips are often taken to be scentless, however the deep yellow varieties do possess a hint of primrose odor about them, which makes them not entirely wasted on those who hanker after odoriferous rather than merely decorative blooms. Upon smelling Tulipano I was surprised to find that it was described as a fruity floral; it had an intriguing bitter edge to it to make it truly unique. Luckily the usual aspect of most commercial fruity florals is missing. In our conversation, instigated by my interest in the line, she told me she likes to produce what she likes, not what focus grousp want, loyal to artisanal values. Hilde's vision of a tulip inspired by the Vulcano island in Sicily and its black beaches scattered with little red wildflowers has elements of freesia and blackcurrant, which is an interesting mix that plays upon the tart bitterness of the fruit to bring balance with the underscoring of sandalwood and cool vetiver, making it a fiery fragrance fit to be shared by both sexes.
"I am very gourmand and it is a nice experience to find the smell of coffee or something to eat inside flowers", Hilde divulged during our discussion. Her point is amply revealed in the opening accord of Iris, a fantasy suave mix of delectable Sicilian almond with the soft touch of iris and sandalwood, producing an easy, comforting fragrance which smiles a little inwardly and could even nibble on a macaroon or two. In the direction that Iris Ganache cemented with its gourmand touch on what is essentialy a bulby, earthy smell (that of iris root) and by smoothing out the rough, too bitter edges of popular Hypnotic Poison without resorting to too sweet however, Iris by Soliani manages to have a disposition that bypasses the metallic aspects of the raw material for an abstract powdery effect that makes even non almond-lovers, such as myself, swoon. Musky and almost vanillic, lightly honeyed accords surface making Iris particularly suited to people who have had bad luck with traditional iris scents.
I didn't need to hear that Margherita was inspired by a happy childhood. The fact projects from every pore. A solar, happy scent, much like intended, with its garlands of orange blossom and green-smelling muguet along with shamrock-like leaves which sing basking the sun. It never missed the chance to put me in a good mood ever time I wore my sample with its slightly carnation-like/ivy feel about it that could entice those who like an innuendo of spice. Pronouncely musky in a modern way it lends itself easily to a variety of occasions, making it a perfect everyday scent for when one wants to let their hair down and relax.
I found Ortensia a little sweet for my taste, with an emphasis on the sweeter aspect of white florals, white musks and cosy Cashmere Woods providing a green touch surprisingly upon drying down, yet pleasant as well.
Notes:
Tulipano: Bergamot, blackberry, lime, peach, kiwi, passion fruit, freesia, lily of the valley, jasmine, vetiver, sandal, oak musk, white musk.
Iris: lily of the valley, green accord, iris, jasmine, mimosa, sandalwood, white musk
Anemone: Orange blossom, tulip, ivy and galbanum, tuberose, lily of the valley, jasmine and cyclamen, white musk, vetiver and sandalwood.
Margherita (Daisy): Orange flowers, ivy leaves, galbanum, bluebell, honeysuckle, jasmine, lily of the valley, rose, tuberose, white musk, and ambregris.
Ortensia: Green accord, hortensia, ylang ylang, jasmine orange flowers, lily of the valley, rose, white musk, cashmere wood, and cedar wood.
The fragrances come in Eau de Parfum concentration with 14% essence and last very well. The boxes reproduce Hilde's paintings: a lively mixture of chromatic packages made with new print technologies on special paper. On one side of each Hilde has written her fairy tale, La Mia Daisy. The bottles bear the designer's elegant handwriting.
The Ti Amo line is currently sold exclusively at New London Pharmacy NYC (tel:212.243.4987 / 800.941.0490): 50ml for 75$
Hilde Soliani samples are now available for : 1 ml $3.50, 2.5 ml $7.00, 5 ml $12.00, 8 ml $19.20 at Fishbone Fragrances.
I can provide a couple of Tulipano samples for those who are quick enough to comment and claim them!
Perfume Shrine exclusive on the even more exciting Soliani New Line inspired by Teatro Reggio Parma: Soon on these pages!
Artwork by Hilde Soliani via the artist and artprocess.net
Italian artist and jewellery designer Hilde Soliani is one such person, lucky to live and breathe around quality.
She has created five original perfumes inspired by five flowers, communicating universal love through an acronym for "I love you" (Ti Amo in Italian):
T.ulipano (red bottle- floral fruity woody - unisex)
I. ris (lilac bottle- floral woody musk- feminine)
A.nemone (orange bottle- woody aromatic- unisex)
M.argherita (blue bottle- floral- feminine)
O.rtensia (pink bottle- floral woody musk- feminine)
Just how she started designing fragrances recalls La Forza del Destino: a journalist seeded the idea. Hilde is primarily an artist ~she designs jewellery, she paints, she plays in the Parma theatre, using her voice and her body to convey her feelings. What started in jest and on a dare however, essentially a private hobby, has now become her "job".
“During a press conference for my first line of jewellery, I showed a line of candles for Valentine’s Day that each included a gold and diamond daisy necklace inside. To wear it you would have to burn half of the candle. The journalistThat put the idea in her head and after a few years her dream was realised in a line inspired by flowers. Flowers talked to Hilde because they made her feel good, they made her house special. The dice was cast and the Ti Amo line began in earnest {for those who read Italian, click to read a great interview}.
asked me if the candle was perfumed and of course it wasn’t.”
Each "flower" is an abstract rendition, rather than a faithful representation of nature (a couple of them don't even have a particular scent and she is not interested in a photorealistic approximation by her own admission). Each reminds Hilde of a precious memory: Tulipano is a memento of her father's voice and warmth. Iris stands for Italian elegance. Anemone recalls the scent of the Parman theatre. Margherita symbolises her happy childhood. Ortensia reminds her of the kiss of her beloved grandmother.
The scents also tell a fairy tale, "La Mia Daisy", inspired by Soliani's grandmother's daisy creation: the fictional story of a girl named Daisy, a five-act play with the happy ending of a discovery of an enchanted place: a touch that makes us dream again, like children. As Hilde says: “I want to bring art into daily life.” She enjoys art which expresses itself in a childlike, playful character.
"My grandmother, who made fragrances herself, teached me how to smell and create fragrance since I was a child. During my business travells I always had nice experiences, nice emotions. I try to capture them by pictures but they don't smell of anything: that's why I wanted to recreate those feelings in scent".Hilde art-directs the fragrances with the help of experienced perfumers in Milano and Grasse.
Tulips are often taken to be scentless, however the deep yellow varieties do possess a hint of primrose odor about them, which makes them not entirely wasted on those who hanker after odoriferous rather than merely decorative blooms. Upon smelling Tulipano I was surprised to find that it was described as a fruity floral; it had an intriguing bitter edge to it to make it truly unique. Luckily the usual aspect of most commercial fruity florals is missing. In our conversation, instigated by my interest in the line, she told me she likes to produce what she likes, not what focus grousp want, loyal to artisanal values. Hilde's vision of a tulip inspired by the Vulcano island in Sicily and its black beaches scattered with little red wildflowers has elements of freesia and blackcurrant, which is an interesting mix that plays upon the tart bitterness of the fruit to bring balance with the underscoring of sandalwood and cool vetiver, making it a fiery fragrance fit to be shared by both sexes.
"I am very gourmand and it is a nice experience to find the smell of coffee or something to eat inside flowers", Hilde divulged during our discussion. Her point is amply revealed in the opening accord of Iris, a fantasy suave mix of delectable Sicilian almond with the soft touch of iris and sandalwood, producing an easy, comforting fragrance which smiles a little inwardly and could even nibble on a macaroon or two. In the direction that Iris Ganache cemented with its gourmand touch on what is essentialy a bulby, earthy smell (that of iris root) and by smoothing out the rough, too bitter edges of popular Hypnotic Poison without resorting to too sweet however, Iris by Soliani manages to have a disposition that bypasses the metallic aspects of the raw material for an abstract powdery effect that makes even non almond-lovers, such as myself, swoon. Musky and almost vanillic, lightly honeyed accords surface making Iris particularly suited to people who have had bad luck with traditional iris scents.
I didn't need to hear that Margherita was inspired by a happy childhood. The fact projects from every pore. A solar, happy scent, much like intended, with its garlands of orange blossom and green-smelling muguet along with shamrock-like leaves which sing basking the sun. It never missed the chance to put me in a good mood ever time I wore my sample with its slightly carnation-like/ivy feel about it that could entice those who like an innuendo of spice. Pronouncely musky in a modern way it lends itself easily to a variety of occasions, making it a perfect everyday scent for when one wants to let their hair down and relax.
I found Ortensia a little sweet for my taste, with an emphasis on the sweeter aspect of white florals, white musks and cosy Cashmere Woods providing a green touch surprisingly upon drying down, yet pleasant as well.
Notes:
Tulipano: Bergamot, blackberry, lime, peach, kiwi, passion fruit, freesia, lily of the valley, jasmine, vetiver, sandal, oak musk, white musk.
Iris: lily of the valley, green accord, iris, jasmine, mimosa, sandalwood, white musk
Anemone: Orange blossom, tulip, ivy and galbanum, tuberose, lily of the valley, jasmine and cyclamen, white musk, vetiver and sandalwood.
Margherita (Daisy): Orange flowers, ivy leaves, galbanum, bluebell, honeysuckle, jasmine, lily of the valley, rose, tuberose, white musk, and ambregris.
Ortensia: Green accord, hortensia, ylang ylang, jasmine orange flowers, lily of the valley, rose, white musk, cashmere wood, and cedar wood.
The fragrances come in Eau de Parfum concentration with 14% essence and last very well. The boxes reproduce Hilde's paintings: a lively mixture of chromatic packages made with new print technologies on special paper. On one side of each Hilde has written her fairy tale, La Mia Daisy. The bottles bear the designer's elegant handwriting.
The Ti Amo line is currently sold exclusively at New London Pharmacy NYC (tel:212.243.4987 / 800.941.0490): 50ml for 75$
Hilde Soliani samples are now available for : 1 ml $3.50, 2.5 ml $7.00, 5 ml $12.00, 8 ml $19.20 at Fishbone Fragrances.
I can provide a couple of Tulipano samples for those who are quick enough to comment and claim them!
Perfume Shrine exclusive on the even more exciting Soliani New Line inspired by Teatro Reggio Parma: Soon on these pages!
Artwork by Hilde Soliani via the artist and artprocess.net
Labels:
anemone,
exclusive,
hilde soliani,
hortensia,
iris,
marghertita,
niche,
review,
ti amo,
tulipano
Bali Dream (travel exclusive) Winner!
The winner of the lucky draw for a sample of the new Bali Dream by Estee Lauder is none other than Elve.
Please send me your info in an email so I can send this out to you!
Thank you all for participating and prepare for another lucky draw of rare samples soon!
Please send me your info in an email so I can send this out to you!
Thank you all for participating and prepare for another lucky draw of rare samples soon!
Sunday, June 15, 2008
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