Thanks everyone for the enthusiastic participation and till the next one!
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Thursday, January 31, 2013
The winner of the draw...
....for the upcoming Malle scent is TBC89. Congratulations and please email me using Contact with your shipping data so I can have this in the mail for you soon.
Wednesday, January 30, 2013
Perfume Primers: The Much Maligned Fruity Floral for Beginners & Beyond
With dismissive waves of the hand denoting "not another one" (there are at least 1840 of them and growing) and soured lips forming an inaudible "urgh" brought on by the sheer boredom of having to hear about the nth launch of yet another fruity floral, it's no wonder anyone seriously gnawing their teeth on perfumery is anxious to get to know other fragrance families instead; the smart chypre fragrances, the ladylike aldehydic florals, the opulent khol-eyed Orientals, even the succulent, "edible" gourmands (a sub-genre of the oriental family sprung out of marketing) promise more than the often unfortunate effect of the mix of shampoo & hard candy scents of the average humble fruity floral on the counter... Nevertheless, to dismiss a whole genre with the blanket characterisation of "dull" and "unexciting" is akin to discouraging a cinephile from watching Blade Runner or 2001 Space Odyssey because they don't like science fiction! Though the simile clearly suffers from fruity floral fragrances rarely reaching that iconic status of significance in their respective field, one can't deny that there are indeed interesting/stimulating examples among them, which merit further exploration from the discerning perfume lover. But what makes a fruity floral, which perfume was the first fruity floral and how fruity florals ended up taking the market prisoner and dominating it?
Definition of a Fruity Floral Perfume & Differentiation from Citrus Scents
The citruses and Eaux de Cologne sing gayly on their trip from the Mediterranean, fetching their joie de vivre and simple ~but never simplistic~ elegance to everyone they touch. One of the oldest essences in perfumery, exactly because contrary to other fruits they do yield an abundant essential oil (hard pressed or cold pressed from the thick rind of the citrus fruit, which you can test for yourself when squeezing an orange seeing the droplets spray on your hands), hesperidia/citruses are almost a universal pleaser, thanks to their uplifting, happy, fresh and zesty character. However, exactly because citruses have been such a classical component of fragrances for centuries (with the traditional Eau de Cologne "recipe" the prominent example where they shine, but also featured in Orientals, florals and chypres) their inclusion in a blend does not a fruity floral make!
Citruses are almost a genre unto themselves (certainly as classified by Michael Edwards in his Fragrances of the World, being part of the "fresh" segment which also comprises "green" and "water" arcs), sometimes called "the citrus family". Herein are included such light and uplifting fragrances as Guerlain Eau de Cologne Imperiale (1860), Acqua di Parma Colonia (1916), D'Orsay Etiquette Bleue (1830, relaunched 2008), Dior Eau Sauvage (1966), Annick Goutal Eau d'Hadrien (1981) or cK One (1994).
The fruity floral on the other hand is a fragrance based on a floral basic skeleton with a light woody/white musk underpinning for longevity and copious amounts of fruits OTHER than hespirides for succulent accents throughout. Patently a relatively recent trend, the trope was established in the last 20 years or so. In fact the first fruity floral came out in 1993; it was Chiffon Sorbet by Escada, the first limited edition summer fragrance by the German brand, which issued a new one each summer onwards. Chiffon Sorbet was based on a passion fruit accord, but it also evoked notes of mango, ripe fig, apples, raspberries and other summery delights, thanks to analytical chemistry and various spins on the Fructone molecule. Fruits, apart from citruses, cannot be expressed or distilled, due to their high water content, and only a synthesized replication in the laboratory can offer illusions of the fruit bowl. The rise in aromachemicals was also signaling the success of the fruity notes.
The timing of Chiffon Sorbet incidentally proves just how innovative the 1990s were in terms of perfumery horizons: not only it signaled the birth of the fruity floral, but also of the "aquatics/marines" (the innovator being New West in 1990, but the trend becoming identifiable with L'Eau d'Issey in 1992) and the "gourmands" (with the launch of Angel, also in 1992).
History of Fruity Florals: Innovators and Prototypes
Exactly because the fruity floral perfumes are such a recent trend it makes the search for percursors or a true classic in the genre a difficult task. Yet, the rich saturation of the fruity chypres hints at what can be considered the great grandmother of the little girls: the prune heft of Rochas Femme, the peach skin note of Guerlain's Mitsouko, the ripe melon impression in Roudnitska-authored* Diors (Diorella, Eau Fraiche) show the possibilities...Let's not forget the pineapple in Patou's 1930s Colony either! This historically important family is so delicious in its overripe fruity notes that it can almost confuse us, taking what are modern yet true "fruity chypres" (such as Deci-Delà by Ricci, or Champagne/Yvresse by Yves Saint Laurent) for fruity florals; they're not.
*I am again tempted to include Le Parfum de Thérèse (a Roudnitska-penned hymn to his wife, kept private for decades and only released by Editions des Parfums Frédéric Malle in 2000) because of the signature melon accord, but it could be argued that it is instead a proto-aquatic.
Early proto-fruity florals, with a tentative focus on the fruit but without the candied aspect or the intense freshness, include the pear-folded Petite Chérie and the blackcurrant jam notes of Eau de Charlotte, both by Annick Goutal. These are playful, innocent, childlike fragrances (indeed they were dedicated to Annick's own two daughters) that might suit certain body chemistries to a T. They're light and airy and lack the syrupy vulgarity of much of the contemporary forgettable crop. Mariella Burani's Il Bacio (1993) is an early and worthwhile fragrance which highlights the nectarous qualities of succulent fruits, but also shimmers with the sheen of a classic floriental; its texture is nuanced and never boring.
Berries are an especially pliant fruity note in perfumes; no less because a certain group of synthetic musks has a berry undertone. The classic Mûre et Musc by L'Artisan Parfumeur paved the way in as early as 1978. The passionfruit focus of Escada's own Chiffon Sorbet didn't come out of the blue either: Guerlain's Nahéma (1978) brought a saturated fruity mantle to the central rose lending sonorous timbre.
What Gave Wings to the Fruity Florals
I would venture the theory that the best-selling status of Lancome's Trésor (1990, a fragrance minimalistically composed by perfumer Sophia Grojsman to maximalistic effect) was the Rubicon in the rising popularity of the fruity floral in the 1990s: the lactonic density and creaminess of the apricot note allied to her favourite rose, underscored with tons of Galaxolide (a synth musk) made for a huge commercial hit. Even simple shower gels, hairsprays, shampoos and functional products lost their former "perfumey" odour profile (invariably either aldehydic soapy/powdery smelling à la Chanel No.5 or musky-deep Poison-reminiscent) ; these functional products turned into fuzzy, peachy things that sang in pop tunes in the scale of Fruit.
Dior's Poison was an interesting cultural "bridge": although built as a musky oriental with an intense tuberose heart, it also boasted a very discernible grape Kool Aid "accord" that was hard to miss; one can argue it paved the way with its mega-popularity during the 1980s. By the mid-90s the die was cast: the fruity floral was the way to go! Maybe Baby by Benefit and Exclamation! (by Grojsman herself) showed that the peachy/apricoty floral especially had legs.
Grojsman later put a spin onto plum and locust and there came Boucheron's Jaipur for women, arguably a less influential release. Prescriptives Calyx is a lasting, bracing grapefruit with helpings of mango and passionfruit to good effect. It came out much earlier, in 1986. It's also another Grojsman creation. Modern fragrances sometimes exhibit merit in the genre. Gucci II Eau de Parfum by Gucci is the modern equivalent of a decent "berry fruity" as introduced by the L'Artisan "mure": tangy berries on top, clean yet skin-friendly musk, no big sweetness, all around wearability. Raspberry and strawberry make the top note of Hot Couture by Givenchy such a playful little minx while berries are the fruity tanginess in Guerlain Insolence, modernising a classic violet floral structure.
But it took another huge best-seller, the influential Dior J'Adore, coming out in 1999 composed by Calice Becker, to cement the trend; Calyx was launched by a makeup brand with a specific demographic, Chiffon Sorbet was all too brief a launch to register at the time, Trésor was influential true, but still, it took a major luxury fashion house such as Dior to imprint it to collective memory. From then on everything was game: the contemporary Azzura (Azzaro), Be Delicious by DKNY, Pleasures Exotic (Lauder), Burberry Brit, Cacharel Amor Amor....they're countless!
Coupled with the maturing of the "gourmand" trend (fragrances inspired by edible smells, usually desserts with a sweet vanillic undercurrent), which tipped the scales to an increasingly sweet spectrum, the fruity floral became bolder & bolder in its "freshness" and increasingly sugared, reminiscent of Life Savers in various shades. Escada, the unsung "designer" innovator, seems to have excelled into producing a pleiad of limited editions to follow the discontinued Chiffon Sorbet, forever identifying the fragrance group with the mood for flip flops and sundresses. Bath & Body Works and Victoria's Secret also made the trend their bread & butter, starting at the 1990s with "single fruit" evocations in alcohol form, ultimately vulgarising the trend. Celebrity scents were the nail on the coffin of sophistication, opting for the hugely commercialised category, sealing the deal: Fruity florals were everywhere by the late-2000s; and we haven't seen the last of them! Or have we?
Un-sung Fruity Florals: Niche and Mainstream
Modern niche houses are understandably reluctant to offer fruity florals; it's all a matter of appealing to connoisseurs and differentiating from the mainstream. Still they can surprise us sometimes with their artistry amidst the tired genre: Breath of God has been hailed by the most difficult critics as a quality product. Pêche Cardinal by MCDI is chokeful of peach over flowers, but the peachiness is singing in a non straining soprano. Maître Parfumeur & Gantier has Fraiche Passiflore with raspberry, peach and passionfruit giving a tropical touch to the naturally banana-faceted jasmine (and the brand had several experimental fruity mixes in their line in the 1980s). Frangipani by Ormonde Jayne takes on fruity nuances of lime and plum to compliment the naturally fruity facets of the tropical white flower that is the frangipani blossom. Patricia de Nicolai's Cococabana takes things to the tropical max: nothing less than coconut. Even all-naturals-perfumery can indulge in the joyful, playful nature of the fruity floral via illusion: Anya's Garden Riverside (later renamed River Cali) and Ayala Moriel's Altruism are such cases.
Amongst the tide of fruity florals I need to point out some that are unfaily unsung despite their exuberant mood packaged in elegant deportment: Patou's Sublime -at least- used to be a sunny, happy smell with a balanced heart of gold, leaning into chypre, something that his Sira des Indes with its gorgeous banana note is not. Birmane by Van Cleef & Arpels takes the unusual note of kumquat (an opening like the sugared bitter peel of this small fruit prepared in Corfu, Greece) and folds it in chocolaty warmth and flowers. Byblos by Byblos (1990) has a helping of strawberry and mimosa sprinkled with pepper; it's delicious and unusual, composed by Elias Ermenidis, a Greek perfumer with more briefs won under his belt than he can count. Jungle L'Eléphant by Kenzo is a rich spicy fruity floral: the cornucopia including mandarin, prune, pineapple, and mango is accented with exotic spices resulting in a very individual scent which flopped commercially; perhaps it was too much for the tastes of 1996; it could stand in any niche house's portfolio just fine nowadays. Eden by Cacharel infused fruits (pineapple, mandarin, melon) and flowers (hawthorn and mimosa) into an aquatic environment with water lily and broke new ground in 1994. Personally I especially love the unripeness of the mango in Un Jardin sur le Nil by Hermès: it gives the impression of grapefruit, such is the tanginess and elegant bitter aftertaste, though it leans into the woody more than the floral.
But the gist is, as they say, "never say never again".
Definition of a Fruity Floral Perfume & Differentiation from Citrus Scents
The citruses and Eaux de Cologne sing gayly on their trip from the Mediterranean, fetching their joie de vivre and simple ~but never simplistic~ elegance to everyone they touch. One of the oldest essences in perfumery, exactly because contrary to other fruits they do yield an abundant essential oil (hard pressed or cold pressed from the thick rind of the citrus fruit, which you can test for yourself when squeezing an orange seeing the droplets spray on your hands), hesperidia/citruses are almost a universal pleaser, thanks to their uplifting, happy, fresh and zesty character. However, exactly because citruses have been such a classical component of fragrances for centuries (with the traditional Eau de Cologne "recipe" the prominent example where they shine, but also featured in Orientals, florals and chypres) their inclusion in a blend does not a fruity floral make!
Citruses are almost a genre unto themselves (certainly as classified by Michael Edwards in his Fragrances of the World, being part of the "fresh" segment which also comprises "green" and "water" arcs), sometimes called "the citrus family". Herein are included such light and uplifting fragrances as Guerlain Eau de Cologne Imperiale (1860), Acqua di Parma Colonia (1916), D'Orsay Etiquette Bleue (1830, relaunched 2008), Dior Eau Sauvage (1966), Annick Goutal Eau d'Hadrien (1981) or cK One (1994).
The fruity floral on the other hand is a fragrance based on a floral basic skeleton with a light woody/white musk underpinning for longevity and copious amounts of fruits OTHER than hespirides for succulent accents throughout. Patently a relatively recent trend, the trope was established in the last 20 years or so. In fact the first fruity floral came out in 1993; it was Chiffon Sorbet by Escada, the first limited edition summer fragrance by the German brand, which issued a new one each summer onwards. Chiffon Sorbet was based on a passion fruit accord, but it also evoked notes of mango, ripe fig, apples, raspberries and other summery delights, thanks to analytical chemistry and various spins on the Fructone molecule. Fruits, apart from citruses, cannot be expressed or distilled, due to their high water content, and only a synthesized replication in the laboratory can offer illusions of the fruit bowl. The rise in aromachemicals was also signaling the success of the fruity notes.
The timing of Chiffon Sorbet incidentally proves just how innovative the 1990s were in terms of perfumery horizons: not only it signaled the birth of the fruity floral, but also of the "aquatics/marines" (the innovator being New West in 1990, but the trend becoming identifiable with L'Eau d'Issey in 1992) and the "gourmands" (with the launch of Angel, also in 1992).
 |
| via ebay |
History of Fruity Florals: Innovators and Prototypes
Exactly because the fruity floral perfumes are such a recent trend it makes the search for percursors or a true classic in the genre a difficult task. Yet, the rich saturation of the fruity chypres hints at what can be considered the great grandmother of the little girls: the prune heft of Rochas Femme, the peach skin note of Guerlain's Mitsouko, the ripe melon impression in Roudnitska-authored* Diors (Diorella, Eau Fraiche) show the possibilities...Let's not forget the pineapple in Patou's 1930s Colony either! This historically important family is so delicious in its overripe fruity notes that it can almost confuse us, taking what are modern yet true "fruity chypres" (such as Deci-Delà by Ricci, or Champagne/Yvresse by Yves Saint Laurent) for fruity florals; they're not.
*I am again tempted to include Le Parfum de Thérèse (a Roudnitska-penned hymn to his wife, kept private for decades and only released by Editions des Parfums Frédéric Malle in 2000) because of the signature melon accord, but it could be argued that it is instead a proto-aquatic.
Early proto-fruity florals, with a tentative focus on the fruit but without the candied aspect or the intense freshness, include the pear-folded Petite Chérie and the blackcurrant jam notes of Eau de Charlotte, both by Annick Goutal. These are playful, innocent, childlike fragrances (indeed they were dedicated to Annick's own two daughters) that might suit certain body chemistries to a T. They're light and airy and lack the syrupy vulgarity of much of the contemporary forgettable crop. Mariella Burani's Il Bacio (1993) is an early and worthwhile fragrance which highlights the nectarous qualities of succulent fruits, but also shimmers with the sheen of a classic floriental; its texture is nuanced and never boring.
Berries are an especially pliant fruity note in perfumes; no less because a certain group of synthetic musks has a berry undertone. The classic Mûre et Musc by L'Artisan Parfumeur paved the way in as early as 1978. The passionfruit focus of Escada's own Chiffon Sorbet didn't come out of the blue either: Guerlain's Nahéma (1978) brought a saturated fruity mantle to the central rose lending sonorous timbre.
What Gave Wings to the Fruity Florals
I would venture the theory that the best-selling status of Lancome's Trésor (1990, a fragrance minimalistically composed by perfumer Sophia Grojsman to maximalistic effect) was the Rubicon in the rising popularity of the fruity floral in the 1990s: the lactonic density and creaminess of the apricot note allied to her favourite rose, underscored with tons of Galaxolide (a synth musk) made for a huge commercial hit. Even simple shower gels, hairsprays, shampoos and functional products lost their former "perfumey" odour profile (invariably either aldehydic soapy/powdery smelling à la Chanel No.5 or musky-deep Poison-reminiscent) ; these functional products turned into fuzzy, peachy things that sang in pop tunes in the scale of Fruit.
Dior's Poison was an interesting cultural "bridge": although built as a musky oriental with an intense tuberose heart, it also boasted a very discernible grape Kool Aid "accord" that was hard to miss; one can argue it paved the way with its mega-popularity during the 1980s. By the mid-90s the die was cast: the fruity floral was the way to go! Maybe Baby by Benefit and Exclamation! (by Grojsman herself) showed that the peachy/apricoty floral especially had legs.
Grojsman later put a spin onto plum and locust and there came Boucheron's Jaipur for women, arguably a less influential release. Prescriptives Calyx is a lasting, bracing grapefruit with helpings of mango and passionfruit to good effect. It came out much earlier, in 1986. It's also another Grojsman creation. Modern fragrances sometimes exhibit merit in the genre. Gucci II Eau de Parfum by Gucci is the modern equivalent of a decent "berry fruity" as introduced by the L'Artisan "mure": tangy berries on top, clean yet skin-friendly musk, no big sweetness, all around wearability. Raspberry and strawberry make the top note of Hot Couture by Givenchy such a playful little minx while berries are the fruity tanginess in Guerlain Insolence, modernising a classic violet floral structure.
But it took another huge best-seller, the influential Dior J'Adore, coming out in 1999 composed by Calice Becker, to cement the trend; Calyx was launched by a makeup brand with a specific demographic, Chiffon Sorbet was all too brief a launch to register at the time, Trésor was influential true, but still, it took a major luxury fashion house such as Dior to imprint it to collective memory. From then on everything was game: the contemporary Azzura (Azzaro), Be Delicious by DKNY, Pleasures Exotic (Lauder), Burberry Brit, Cacharel Amor Amor....they're countless!
Coupled with the maturing of the "gourmand" trend (fragrances inspired by edible smells, usually desserts with a sweet vanillic undercurrent), which tipped the scales to an increasingly sweet spectrum, the fruity floral became bolder & bolder in its "freshness" and increasingly sugared, reminiscent of Life Savers in various shades. Escada, the unsung "designer" innovator, seems to have excelled into producing a pleiad of limited editions to follow the discontinued Chiffon Sorbet, forever identifying the fragrance group with the mood for flip flops and sundresses. Bath & Body Works and Victoria's Secret also made the trend their bread & butter, starting at the 1990s with "single fruit" evocations in alcohol form, ultimately vulgarising the trend. Celebrity scents were the nail on the coffin of sophistication, opting for the hugely commercialised category, sealing the deal: Fruity florals were everywhere by the late-2000s; and we haven't seen the last of them! Or have we?
Un-sung Fruity Florals: Niche and Mainstream
Modern niche houses are understandably reluctant to offer fruity florals; it's all a matter of appealing to connoisseurs and differentiating from the mainstream. Still they can surprise us sometimes with their artistry amidst the tired genre: Breath of God has been hailed by the most difficult critics as a quality product. Pêche Cardinal by MCDI is chokeful of peach over flowers, but the peachiness is singing in a non straining soprano. Maître Parfumeur & Gantier has Fraiche Passiflore with raspberry, peach and passionfruit giving a tropical touch to the naturally banana-faceted jasmine (and the brand had several experimental fruity mixes in their line in the 1980s). Frangipani by Ormonde Jayne takes on fruity nuances of lime and plum to compliment the naturally fruity facets of the tropical white flower that is the frangipani blossom. Patricia de Nicolai's Cococabana takes things to the tropical max: nothing less than coconut. Even all-naturals-perfumery can indulge in the joyful, playful nature of the fruity floral via illusion: Anya's Garden Riverside (later renamed River Cali) and Ayala Moriel's Altruism are such cases.
Amongst the tide of fruity florals I need to point out some that are unfaily unsung despite their exuberant mood packaged in elegant deportment: Patou's Sublime -at least- used to be a sunny, happy smell with a balanced heart of gold, leaning into chypre, something that his Sira des Indes with its gorgeous banana note is not. Birmane by Van Cleef & Arpels takes the unusual note of kumquat (an opening like the sugared bitter peel of this small fruit prepared in Corfu, Greece) and folds it in chocolaty warmth and flowers. Byblos by Byblos (1990) has a helping of strawberry and mimosa sprinkled with pepper; it's delicious and unusual, composed by Elias Ermenidis, a Greek perfumer with more briefs won under his belt than he can count. Jungle L'Eléphant by Kenzo is a rich spicy fruity floral: the cornucopia including mandarin, prune, pineapple, and mango is accented with exotic spices resulting in a very individual scent which flopped commercially; perhaps it was too much for the tastes of 1996; it could stand in any niche house's portfolio just fine nowadays. Eden by Cacharel infused fruits (pineapple, mandarin, melon) and flowers (hawthorn and mimosa) into an aquatic environment with water lily and broke new ground in 1994. Personally I especially love the unripeness of the mango in Un Jardin sur le Nil by Hermès: it gives the impression of grapefruit, such is the tanginess and elegant bitter aftertaste, though it leans into the woody more than the floral.
But the gist is, as they say, "never say never again".
Tuesday, January 29, 2013
Rouge Bunny Rouge Chatoyant, Vespers, Lilt: fragrance reviews
I had promised you in my Best of 2012 in Perfume & Style recap late last year that I would return with my views on the very new Rouge Bunny Rouge fragrances, because they're quite promising for a make-up brand. Indeed, the cultish brand -known for excellent products with a fairy-tale sprinkling- doesn't disappoint in delivering credible jus despite the hyperbolic ad copy on the site. All three of their fragrances, Chatoyant, Vespers and Lilt, wear well and convey attention to detail. They might not instigate wilder fantasies of some of the Lutens, but they don't smell like the chemical mess of many contemporary mainstreams either, straddling in fact a few tropes of niche (the fig scents) and clutching onto a few of the modern classics' strings too (the Narciso-begat "nouveau chypres"). All in all, not bad at all!
Instantly attractive, Chatoyant is a rich blend with a mix of floral, woody and fruity aromas that draw attention and at the same time glow with the sweet attraction of brocade in warm shades. The creamy core of Chatoyant, lightly vanillic, creamily woody with a discernible coconut touch, seemingly composed of lactonic (from the Latin for milk) notes, makes it a lightly sweet mantle, an aura on top of one's being, what the French call à fleur de peau. The rich rosiness smooths the composition, giving the other floral impressions, notably the powdery orchid "note" something to adhere to.
The creamy and yet bitterish fig leaves and milky sap impression of Lilt is tender and green, a fantasy of shaded moments of tranquility, of human skin, of repose, of calm. Fig scents are one of my favorite genres for several reasons. Their reference speaks to the Mediterranean in me with the pang of sweet nostalgia, the promise of an eternal summer, of careless days spent under the shady solace of the fig tree which these fragrances recreate with almost photorealistic accuracy. The apricot-y, coconut-y nuances are lightly sweet in nature and their creaminess makes them extremely simpatico to the natural scent of human skin, which is rich in apocrine glands partly exuding a comparable aroma. The intimacy of the serene woodiness of Lilt, peppered by the more angular notes of the fig leaves with their dusty, citrusy tang and indelible bitterness, is wrapped in other skin-compatible notes such as musk.
The cool, elegant sex-appeal of Vespers reminds me of the shimmering beauty of Narciso for Her. The intensely musky woodiness at the heart of this fragrance is only momentarily obscured by the lightly peppered bouquet of abstract, indefinable flowers opening under the snow. The juxtaposition of cool and warm notes, with the austerity of pencil shavings and the fuzz of Cashmeran, is the secret behind this scents' lure. As a dedicated fan of the genre it wasn't difficult for me to like Vespers and if you're a fan of fragrances like Narciso, SJP Lovely, Lanvin Rumeur, or Guerlain Idylle, with their marrying a floral note (like rose, orange blossom or lily of the valley) that is clear and crystalline with the woody sweetness of a non-heady patchouli, chances are you might like this one too; it's within those parameters without smelling exactly the same.
Alas, it has been rather difficult to access longevity and sillage in the Fragrant Confections line, as the amount I received for reviewing purposes was either so tiny or it had significantly evaporated in transit, that it only allowed me to test these for a single wearing. The cards sprayed with the fragrances however did retain the scent for days (though you realize we're not made out of paper.)
All Rouge Bunny Rouge fragrances are available on the official site. I believe Zuneta in the UK might cater (if they don't already) to those who are not covered by the shipping by the brand directly.
In the interests of disclosure I was sent samples via PR.
Instantly attractive, Chatoyant is a rich blend with a mix of floral, woody and fruity aromas that draw attention and at the same time glow with the sweet attraction of brocade in warm shades. The creamy core of Chatoyant, lightly vanillic, creamily woody with a discernible coconut touch, seemingly composed of lactonic (from the Latin for milk) notes, makes it a lightly sweet mantle, an aura on top of one's being, what the French call à fleur de peau. The rich rosiness smooths the composition, giving the other floral impressions, notably the powdery orchid "note" something to adhere to.
The creamy and yet bitterish fig leaves and milky sap impression of Lilt is tender and green, a fantasy of shaded moments of tranquility, of human skin, of repose, of calm. Fig scents are one of my favorite genres for several reasons. Their reference speaks to the Mediterranean in me with the pang of sweet nostalgia, the promise of an eternal summer, of careless days spent under the shady solace of the fig tree which these fragrances recreate with almost photorealistic accuracy. The apricot-y, coconut-y nuances are lightly sweet in nature and their creaminess makes them extremely simpatico to the natural scent of human skin, which is rich in apocrine glands partly exuding a comparable aroma. The intimacy of the serene woodiness of Lilt, peppered by the more angular notes of the fig leaves with their dusty, citrusy tang and indelible bitterness, is wrapped in other skin-compatible notes such as musk.
The cool, elegant sex-appeal of Vespers reminds me of the shimmering beauty of Narciso for Her. The intensely musky woodiness at the heart of this fragrance is only momentarily obscured by the lightly peppered bouquet of abstract, indefinable flowers opening under the snow. The juxtaposition of cool and warm notes, with the austerity of pencil shavings and the fuzz of Cashmeran, is the secret behind this scents' lure. As a dedicated fan of the genre it wasn't difficult for me to like Vespers and if you're a fan of fragrances like Narciso, SJP Lovely, Lanvin Rumeur, or Guerlain Idylle, with their marrying a floral note (like rose, orange blossom or lily of the valley) that is clear and crystalline with the woody sweetness of a non-heady patchouli, chances are you might like this one too; it's within those parameters without smelling exactly the same.
Alas, it has been rather difficult to access longevity and sillage in the Fragrant Confections line, as the amount I received for reviewing purposes was either so tiny or it had significantly evaporated in transit, that it only allowed me to test these for a single wearing. The cards sprayed with the fragrances however did retain the scent for days (though you realize we're not made out of paper.)
All Rouge Bunny Rouge fragrances are available on the official site. I believe Zuneta in the UK might cater (if they don't already) to those who are not covered by the shipping by the brand directly.
In the interests of disclosure I was sent samples via PR.
Sunday, January 27, 2013
Dries van Noten par Frederic Malle: new fragrance & draw
Frédéric Malle has a few tricks up his elegant sleeve for catering to jaded perfume lovers still. In a new project involving collaborating with various designers, offering his editorial skills and his liaisons with the best perfumers in the business, I learned that Malle is going to launch a line of eponymous designer scents that go off the beaten path. The first fruit of this collaboration is a fragrance for Dries Van Noten, one of the pioneers of the Antwerp "School of Six". The collaboration isn't that out of the blue as one would think: Van noten distributes fragrances in the Éditions de Parfums Frédéric Malle in his boutiques for some time now; Dries Van Noten par Frédéric Malle is the natural outcome.
Although the formula was being developed for the past year and was originally set for an autumn 2012 launch the perfectionism of Malle prevailed and the launch is set for February 15th. But that's not all.
Not only is the collaboration with a fashion designer news, it's also an innovation on the formula front, as the new Malle perfume is touted to be inclusive of a new, natural Indian sandalwood from a sustainable source. Indian sandalwood, for those who didn't know, had essentially been eradicated from perfumery in the last 20 years or so, due to concerns and regulations on the sustainability of the Mysore sandalwood. The news therefore is a leap of hope for the industry in general and sure to create a real peak of interest in the heart of every perfume fan out there. The new fragrance is an oriental woody, smooth and polished like the designs of Van Noten.
The composition has been undertaken by rising perfumer Bruno Jovanovich of International Flavors and Fragrances (IFF) The fragrance notes for the upcoming Dries van Noten par Frédéric Malle are citron, sandalwood, guaiac wood, saffron, Spanish jasmine, tonka beans, Cashmeran/blonde woods, vanilla and musk.
As you can see the presentation of the bottle is also different than the rest of the Malle portfolio, as this is a separate line.
A lab batch sample is trickling my way and after a percursory sniff I'd love to offer it to one of our readers before its official launch. Please enter a comment with any of your thoughts on the Malle line or on sandalwood, or anything perfume related and I will draw a winner on Thursday.
Although the formula was being developed for the past year and was originally set for an autumn 2012 launch the perfectionism of Malle prevailed and the launch is set for February 15th. But that's not all.
Not only is the collaboration with a fashion designer news, it's also an innovation on the formula front, as the new Malle perfume is touted to be inclusive of a new, natural Indian sandalwood from a sustainable source. Indian sandalwood, for those who didn't know, had essentially been eradicated from perfumery in the last 20 years or so, due to concerns and regulations on the sustainability of the Mysore sandalwood. The news therefore is a leap of hope for the industry in general and sure to create a real peak of interest in the heart of every perfume fan out there. The new fragrance is an oriental woody, smooth and polished like the designs of Van Noten.
The composition has been undertaken by rising perfumer Bruno Jovanovich of International Flavors and Fragrances (IFF) The fragrance notes for the upcoming Dries van Noten par Frédéric Malle are citron, sandalwood, guaiac wood, saffron, Spanish jasmine, tonka beans, Cashmeran/blonde woods, vanilla and musk.
As you can see the presentation of the bottle is also different than the rest of the Malle portfolio, as this is a separate line.
A lab batch sample is trickling my way and after a percursory sniff I'd love to offer it to one of our readers before its official launch. Please enter a comment with any of your thoughts on the Malle line or on sandalwood, or anything perfume related and I will draw a winner on Thursday.
Friday, January 25, 2013
82 New Allergens in Perfumes: The Death Toll on Fragrances as we Know Them
Although I'm not one for the sensationalist approach, the escalation of concerns for the potentially allergenic properties of perfumery compounds looks very grim indeed for every perfume lover out there. The classic Miss Dior, Shalimar, Mitsouko and many Guerlains, Angel, Opium, Bellodgia, perfumes with tonka beans and anything with lots of citral (look out for lemon and tangerine "notes") are to be irrevocably changed. If there is something that you absolutely love (and get no adverse reaction from) in its current -already reduced- state, better stock up, because within 2013 lots of fragrances are in for a major rehaul.
If you thought that oakmoss only, i.e. evernia prunastri, was the crux of the matter, you're in for a major surprise. Treemoss, i.e. evernia furfuracea (which acted as mossy note in the post-2008 reformulated chypres that demanded it) is coming into axing and the low-atranol versions of oakmoss have not really managed to convince perfumers of its ability to pose convincingly for what is lost in translation from the older formulae.
Of course one could argue that some classics are already semi-ruined: The classic 1947 Miss Dior (now sold as Miss Dior L'original) is already sent to the back-burner Peoria of limited distribution, but its upstart (the renamed Miss Dior Cherie) isn't safe either; the youthful cheekiness has been effaced and the best-selling Dior smells more like Chanel's Coco Mademoiselle than its own self. The famous YSL Opium, already in transvestite gear, is set to become a eunuch, due to the eradication of eugenol and isoeugenol, spicy molecules naturally present in cloves, mace, bay leaves, rose oil, basil and other plants. As to Chanel No. 5, which raised the flag of the press, thanks to its constant on the front of everyone's mind when thinking "perfume", the truth is it has been so attenuated through the years that any claim on Grasse jasmine and adherence to the 1921 formula sounds perfectly ridiculous to anyone who has some vintage bottles stashed in their fragrance closet. If a shiver of fear went down your spine reading that jasmine and rose are to be restricted as well, fear not: most commercial perfumery (even the very best brands) just use hedione and phenyl ethyl alcohol with citronellol for those two notes respectively, with a garland of something else to boost them this way or that; I have already stated how the industry uses the same 20 ingredients over and over resulting in fragrance sameness....It's no accident.
Although the fervor with which the European Commission is inspecting scented products instead of some of its rotten political realities, which have effectively created a chasm between North and South and have posed a risk for the very solidarity of the European Union, seems misplaced, the issue isn't totally without scientific basis.
"Based on the review available and on multiple cases of allergy reported by dermatologists, the SCCS [Scientific Community on Consumer Safety] identified 82 substances (54 chemicals and 28 natural extracts) that can be categorised as 'established contact allergens' in humans, including the 26 that were already on the list." The document goes on to highlight that, based on the combined results from animal experiments and the analysis of their chemical structure, 26 other individual chemicals where categorised as “likely contact allergens”. The SCCS also reveals that in addition, 35 individual chemicals and 13 natural extracts were also categorised as “possible contact allergens” with three further specific substances recognized as being “potent allergens” and not considered safe in consumer products." [source: SCCS publishes fragrance allergen fact sheet]
The above showcases one common misconception concerning the restrictions of certain ingredients in perfume & scented products manufacturing (including skin care, detergents, hair dyes and the like), namely that it is natural extracts that are being axed due to reasons of high costs. This is plainly NOT the case. It's much more complex than that and litigation as well as technical problems within the industry, as mentioned before, factor in. As you can see above, by the numbers given, plenty of synthesized molecules (nature-identical or synthetic) are also being axed; in fact the synthetics to be eradicated outnumber the naturals greatly (54 to 28)!
What is most alarming is that this is showing no signs of stopping there: 26 other individual chemicals are categorized as "likely contact allergens". In addition 35 individual chemicals and 13 natural extracts are also categorized as possible contact allergens with 3 further specific substances recognized as being "potent allergens" not considered safe in consumer products.
Although ever since 2003 there has been a series of 26 individual ingredients which have been identified as allergenic and are required by law in the EU and in the US to be mentioned on the label (things like coumarin, hydroxycitronellal, Lilial, citronellol, etc), the percentage of people with some form of allergic sensitivity to consumer products with a scent is calculated to be 1 in every 3 Europeans.
Even though the usual repercussion of skin contact with these questionable ingredients in perfumes usually results in topical redness and a rash, it can escalate to eczema, a more severe allergic immune system reaction which even when treated can remain dormant for a lifetime, waiting to be re-triggered via another exposure to the allergen that first made it erupt. It is important to note that even though some ingredients do not cause a reaction in vitro, they can potentially do so in vivo thanks to the interaction with sunlight, air or even the body's own biological processes which turn them into allergens. But there is an inconsistency.
‘While I do think the consumer’s health and wellbeing should always be our first priority, imagine if Brussels authorised for all nut products to be banned or restricted because a few people are allergic,’ Roja Dove, a prime industry figure and a manufacturer of luxury niche fragrances, says. ‘Just look at basil. I have to list it on the back of packaging if I use more than a certain percentage because it’s one of the original list of 26 the European Commission decided must be declared. ‘But a chef can take a huge bunch of basil, chop it up and sprinkle it over food, and their hands will be covered with basil oil. There are no guidelines there.’
Thankfully it is claimed that an exposure level in cosmetic products of less than 0,01% (or 10 mg/100g of cosmetic product) would prevent allergic reactions in the majority of cases. As such, the use of kojic acid (a skin lightener for cosmetic use on melasma and age spots) for instance is considered safe in concentrations of 1% in compound of leave-on creams for use on face and hands.
According to The Times, the European Commission are expected to propose new regulations within the fragrance industry in January 2014, when considerations of both the economic importance of perfume (earning £1.5 billion a year for France alone) and the actual number of perfume-induced allergies occurring might be put into perspective. The sheer process of re-evaluating all the formulae currently on the market and reformulating all those perfumes at no monetary compensation should definitely sting for all the fragrance companies.
It remains to be seen whether a subtle visual twist in packaging (as before) or an augmented list of allergens on the label will be the deciding factor in signaling the changed formula of any given perfume. At any rate, consider yourselves warned.
.jpg) |
| via lefigaro.madame.fr |
If you thought that oakmoss only, i.e. evernia prunastri, was the crux of the matter, you're in for a major surprise. Treemoss, i.e. evernia furfuracea (which acted as mossy note in the post-2008 reformulated chypres that demanded it) is coming into axing and the low-atranol versions of oakmoss have not really managed to convince perfumers of its ability to pose convincingly for what is lost in translation from the older formulae.
Of course one could argue that some classics are already semi-ruined: The classic 1947 Miss Dior (now sold as Miss Dior L'original) is already sent to the back-burner Peoria of limited distribution, but its upstart (the renamed Miss Dior Cherie) isn't safe either; the youthful cheekiness has been effaced and the best-selling Dior smells more like Chanel's Coco Mademoiselle than its own self. The famous YSL Opium, already in transvestite gear, is set to become a eunuch, due to the eradication of eugenol and isoeugenol, spicy molecules naturally present in cloves, mace, bay leaves, rose oil, basil and other plants. As to Chanel No. 5, which raised the flag of the press, thanks to its constant on the front of everyone's mind when thinking "perfume", the truth is it has been so attenuated through the years that any claim on Grasse jasmine and adherence to the 1921 formula sounds perfectly ridiculous to anyone who has some vintage bottles stashed in their fragrance closet. If a shiver of fear went down your spine reading that jasmine and rose are to be restricted as well, fear not: most commercial perfumery (even the very best brands) just use hedione and phenyl ethyl alcohol with citronellol for those two notes respectively, with a garland of something else to boost them this way or that; I have already stated how the industry uses the same 20 ingredients over and over resulting in fragrance sameness....It's no accident.
Although the fervor with which the European Commission is inspecting scented products instead of some of its rotten political realities, which have effectively created a chasm between North and South and have posed a risk for the very solidarity of the European Union, seems misplaced, the issue isn't totally without scientific basis.
"Based on the review available and on multiple cases of allergy reported by dermatologists, the SCCS [Scientific Community on Consumer Safety] identified 82 substances (54 chemicals and 28 natural extracts) that can be categorised as 'established contact allergens' in humans, including the 26 that were already on the list." The document goes on to highlight that, based on the combined results from animal experiments and the analysis of their chemical structure, 26 other individual chemicals where categorised as “likely contact allergens”. The SCCS also reveals that in addition, 35 individual chemicals and 13 natural extracts were also categorised as “possible contact allergens” with three further specific substances recognized as being “potent allergens” and not considered safe in consumer products." [source: SCCS publishes fragrance allergen fact sheet]
The above showcases one common misconception concerning the restrictions of certain ingredients in perfume & scented products manufacturing (including skin care, detergents, hair dyes and the like), namely that it is natural extracts that are being axed due to reasons of high costs. This is plainly NOT the case. It's much more complex than that and litigation as well as technical problems within the industry, as mentioned before, factor in. As you can see above, by the numbers given, plenty of synthesized molecules (nature-identical or synthetic) are also being axed; in fact the synthetics to be eradicated outnumber the naturals greatly (54 to 28)!
What is most alarming is that this is showing no signs of stopping there: 26 other individual chemicals are categorized as "likely contact allergens". In addition 35 individual chemicals and 13 natural extracts are also categorized as possible contact allergens with 3 further specific substances recognized as being "potent allergens" not considered safe in consumer products.
Although ever since 2003 there has been a series of 26 individual ingredients which have been identified as allergenic and are required by law in the EU and in the US to be mentioned on the label (things like coumarin, hydroxycitronellal, Lilial, citronellol, etc), the percentage of people with some form of allergic sensitivity to consumer products with a scent is calculated to be 1 in every 3 Europeans.
Even though the usual repercussion of skin contact with these questionable ingredients in perfumes usually results in topical redness and a rash, it can escalate to eczema, a more severe allergic immune system reaction which even when treated can remain dormant for a lifetime, waiting to be re-triggered via another exposure to the allergen that first made it erupt. It is important to note that even though some ingredients do not cause a reaction in vitro, they can potentially do so in vivo thanks to the interaction with sunlight, air or even the body's own biological processes which turn them into allergens. But there is an inconsistency.
‘While I do think the consumer’s health and wellbeing should always be our first priority, imagine if Brussels authorised for all nut products to be banned or restricted because a few people are allergic,’ Roja Dove, a prime industry figure and a manufacturer of luxury niche fragrances, says. ‘Just look at basil. I have to list it on the back of packaging if I use more than a certain percentage because it’s one of the original list of 26 the European Commission decided must be declared. ‘But a chef can take a huge bunch of basil, chop it up and sprinkle it over food, and their hands will be covered with basil oil. There are no guidelines there.’
Thankfully it is claimed that an exposure level in cosmetic products of less than 0,01% (or 10 mg/100g of cosmetic product) would prevent allergic reactions in the majority of cases. As such, the use of kojic acid (a skin lightener for cosmetic use on melasma and age spots) for instance is considered safe in concentrations of 1% in compound of leave-on creams for use on face and hands.
According to The Times, the European Commission are expected to propose new regulations within the fragrance industry in January 2014, when considerations of both the economic importance of perfume (earning £1.5 billion a year for France alone) and the actual number of perfume-induced allergies occurring might be put into perspective. The sheer process of re-evaluating all the formulae currently on the market and reformulating all those perfumes at no monetary compensation should definitely sting for all the fragrance companies.
It remains to be seen whether a subtle visual twist in packaging (as before) or an augmented list of allergens on the label will be the deciding factor in signaling the changed formula of any given perfume. At any rate, consider yourselves warned.
Thursday, January 24, 2013
M.Micallef Royal Vintage: new fragrance
At the beginning of February, French niche house Parfums M.Micallef launches a new fragrance for man, ROYAL VINTAGE. It is a perfume aimed for men with timeless, sophisticated elegance.
Head note: Pink berries and bergamot
Heart note: Cypress and leather
Base note: Patchouly and musk.
“… For this atypical fragrance in our collection, I wanted to reinterpret the EXCLUSIVE bottle using the design codes of these beautiful vintage cars… " says Martine Micallef. "
The design of the ROYAL VINTAGE bottle was inspired by glamorous and iconographic images from the classic cinema universe: beautiful vintage cars adorned with glittering chrome bumpers. For this atypical fragrance in our collection, I wanted to reinterpret the EXCLUSIVE bottle using the design codes of these beautiful vintage cars, "says Martine Micallef. In the authentic French tradition of crafts and luxury, the M.Micallef Company gives priority to qualitative and natural ingredients in its fragrances and magnifies each bottle in its art studio. The glass bottle of ROYAL VINTAGE is covered with a chrome color metallization with a black ring hand affixed in the middle and is wearing a matte black metal cap.
quotes via press release 
Spray bottle in eau de parfum concentration, 30 and 100 ml retailing at 76 € and 175 € respectively.
Head note: Pink berries and bergamot
Heart note: Cypress and leather
Base note: Patchouly and musk.
“… For this atypical fragrance in our collection, I wanted to reinterpret the EXCLUSIVE bottle using the design codes of these beautiful vintage cars… " says Martine Micallef. "
The design of the ROYAL VINTAGE bottle was inspired by glamorous and iconographic images from the classic cinema universe: beautiful vintage cars adorned with glittering chrome bumpers. For this atypical fragrance in our collection, I wanted to reinterpret the EXCLUSIVE bottle using the design codes of these beautiful vintage cars, "says Martine Micallef. In the authentic French tradition of crafts and luxury, the M.Micallef Company gives priority to qualitative and natural ingredients in its fragrances and magnifies each bottle in its art studio. The glass bottle of ROYAL VINTAGE is covered with a chrome color metallization with a black ring hand affixed in the middle and is wearing a matte black metal cap.
quotes via press release 
Spray bottle in eau de parfum concentration, 30 and 100 ml retailing at 76 € and 175 € respectively.
Wednesday, January 23, 2013
M.Micallef Ylang in Gold: fragrance review
Does the mental association of airheads frying on the beach to attain a lizard-worthy tan, replete with tons of sweet oily stuff smeared within an inch of their lives come into your mind when you hear the word "coconut scent"?. Or is the scent of artificial "tropics" enacted via those atrocious derelict-cab-dangling "deo" yellowish pine-trees that are enough to only get a glimpse of for one's stomach to turn? Coconut-laced tropical floral scents are a risky affair lest they end up smelling vulgar. Luckily for all, Ylang in Gold by niche French brand M.Micallef not only isn't so, but passes muster on projecting as totally refined, golden, gorgeous and genuinely pretty.
The hints of boozy richness in Ylang in Gold recall saturated hues of rust and copper, done in a heavy silk drape, subtly changing with the play of the light upon the threads. I can feel—rather than see—the soft shimmer, like the trompe l'oeil of beige eyeshadow edged in taupe with a champagne highlighter gives the illusion of deeper, larger and more alluring eyes. This is a luxurious fragrance that is as delicious as a lemon-tinged vanilla pudding, taking a page off Casmir by Chopard, focused on the lusciousness of ylang in the floral heart.
The golden incandescence of Ylang in Gold lives up to the name, being a salicylate-rich floral (salicylate is that tropical floral element that is so prominent in the Ambre Solaire sunscreens) with a delicious floral tenacity that mysteriously intensifies the longer the perfume stays on skin. That treatment of ylang reminds me of the lily facets revealed by the subtle vanilla-salicylate accord of Vanille Galante by Hermes. Whereas there the vanilla thus emerged smelling like lily, here the vanillic tonality is a cross between milky sandalwood, suntan lotion and coconut water. Here the brûlée nuance is more "gourmand," a little thick, but done with elegance and restraint nevertheless. Without aiming to technically innovate or open new artistic pathways, the perfumer created a very pretty, very fetching fragrance to enjoy all year long. Its Orientalism is doe-eyed and contemporary enough to pull it through.
Notes for Ylang in Gold by M. Micallef:
Top notes: Tangerine orange, geranium, artemisia
Heart notes: Ylang-ylang, rose, sandalwood, lily-of-the-valley, magnolia
Base notes: Coconut, vanilla, musk.
The hints of boozy richness in Ylang in Gold recall saturated hues of rust and copper, done in a heavy silk drape, subtly changing with the play of the light upon the threads. I can feel—rather than see—the soft shimmer, like the trompe l'oeil of beige eyeshadow edged in taupe with a champagne highlighter gives the illusion of deeper, larger and more alluring eyes. This is a luxurious fragrance that is as delicious as a lemon-tinged vanilla pudding, taking a page off Casmir by Chopard, focused on the lusciousness of ylang in the floral heart.
The golden incandescence of Ylang in Gold lives up to the name, being a salicylate-rich floral (salicylate is that tropical floral element that is so prominent in the Ambre Solaire sunscreens) with a delicious floral tenacity that mysteriously intensifies the longer the perfume stays on skin. That treatment of ylang reminds me of the lily facets revealed by the subtle vanilla-salicylate accord of Vanille Galante by Hermes. Whereas there the vanilla thus emerged smelling like lily, here the vanillic tonality is a cross between milky sandalwood, suntan lotion and coconut water. Here the brûlée nuance is more "gourmand," a little thick, but done with elegance and restraint nevertheless. Without aiming to technically innovate or open new artistic pathways, the perfumer created a very pretty, very fetching fragrance to enjoy all year long. Its Orientalism is doe-eyed and contemporary enough to pull it through.
Notes for Ylang in Gold by M. Micallef:
Top notes: Tangerine orange, geranium, artemisia
Heart notes: Ylang-ylang, rose, sandalwood, lily-of-the-valley, magnolia
Base notes: Coconut, vanilla, musk.
Tuesday, January 22, 2013
Andree Putman Preparation Parfumee: fragrance review
Andrée Putman's fragrance is not easy to review, exactly because it eschews traditional classification, much like the acclaimed designer opted to for her work as well. From home interiors to furniture to tableware, her work is sans pareil. It was only natural that her eponymous fragrance would be too; an aqueous woody with a different feeling of freshness than the screechy scratch of "marines", at a time of launch (2001) a mini revolution. Doubly so if one considers for a moment that it was she who was responsible for the renovation of the flagship Guerlain boutique at Champs-Elysées in 2005, replete with the luminous chandeliers which refract light in a million rays. Her eponymous perfume bears absolutely no relation with a classic Guerlain!
Damp woods are harmoniously paired to spices and refined notes reminiscent of dewy stems and petals in Preparation Parfumée; more of a protective amulet than a potion of seduction, as evidenced by the name too (i.e. scented preparation) The Andrée Putman fragrance was composed by Olivia Giacobetti, a perfumer known for her transparent, limpid accords and her quirky, individual style ~as showcased in Premier Figuier (1994), Drôle de Rose (1995), Thé Pour Un Eté (1996), Philosykos (1996), L’Eau du Fleuriste (1997), Navegar (1998), Dzing! (1999), Passage d'Enfer (1999), Hiris (1999), Tea for Two (2000), Essence of John Galliano, En Passant (2000) or Thé des Sables (2001). The building up to Preparation Parfumée Andrée Putman (2001) bears olfactory kinship with another perfume composed by Giacobetti, Navegar for L'Artisan Parfumeur, a scent of blanched pebbles and driftwood on a river's delta. No wonder that Putman OK-ed the austere and economical use of a few elements to convey a potent message; it was she who had famously said: "I love America, and I love American women. But there is one thing that deeply shocks me - American closets. I cannot believe one can dress well when you have so much."
Preparation Parfumée begins with a spicy top note that reminds me of bay leaves and their oil, although I know they are not listed, that slightly bittersweet & hot eugenol-rich spice that we use in lentils soup. The fragrance however is not heavy nor strong, never a singeing feeling. Then along with that a very aqueous accord follows retaining the earthy smell of petrichor for a long long time. It reminds me of wood branches washed on the shore of a river of gigantic proportions after a storm, drenched in mud and bog water. This earthy, elemental force is fundamental to its appeal. Rather than mountains and forests, due to lack of the resinous quality I associate with those, this image creates another kind of serenity.
Would that be a scent to dampen one's spirits though with all its damp wood and such? It depends….It’s not “pretty” for sure , neither “elegant” and "feminine" in the traditional sense, but it retains an air of mystery and nostalgic quality for those friendly to introspection.
 |
| via habituallychic.blogspot.com |
Preparation Parfumée begins with a spicy top note that reminds me of bay leaves and their oil, although I know they are not listed, that slightly bittersweet & hot eugenol-rich spice that we use in lentils soup. The fragrance however is not heavy nor strong, never a singeing feeling. Then along with that a very aqueous accord follows retaining the earthy smell of petrichor for a long long time. It reminds me of wood branches washed on the shore of a river of gigantic proportions after a storm, drenched in mud and bog water. This earthy, elemental force is fundamental to its appeal. Rather than mountains and forests, due to lack of the resinous quality I associate with those, this image creates another kind of serenity.
Would that be a scent to dampen one's spirits though with all its damp wood and such? It depends….It’s not “pretty” for sure , neither “elegant” and "feminine" in the traditional sense, but it retains an air of mystery and nostalgic quality for those friendly to introspection.
Andree Putman: 1925-2013
Andrée Putman, the "grande dame" of design, died in the age of 87. Introduced to American audiences with the renovation of hotel Morgans on Madison Avenue, exhibiting her clear, astute, elegant style, Putman brought in a new modernity in the world of interior design. Her chief characteristics in her work were luminosity and spaciousness. Her aphorisms are inimitable. ""Unless you have a feeling for that secret knowledge that modest things can be more beautiful than anything expensive, you will never have style."
In honor of her opus, there is going to be a review of her eponymous fragrance Preparation Parfumée Andrée Putman on these pages shortly. Stay tuned!
Monday, January 21, 2013
Tuberose: Carnal Floralcy & Drama Note
No note in perfumery is more surprisingly carnal, creamier or contradicting than that of tuberose. The multi-petalled flower is a mix of flower shop freshness and velvety opulence. Which is why it is the perennial polarizing flower note having as many ardent fans as passionate detractors. The Victorians must have been among the latter: they forbade young girls of inhaling the scent of tuberose in the fear they might have a spontaneous orgasm! Roja Dove is right when he says that tuberose is really loose, the "harlot of perfumery".
Polianthes tuberosa doesn't have any botanical or olfactory relation to roses, despite the name. This small white blossom flowering plant is its own thing, a "white floral" (in the same class as jasmine and orange blossom) with an intensity and creaminess beyond any other: Though the scent can be likened to that of orange blossom and gardenia, tuberose has interesting facets of camphor in the opening (comparable to - but not quite that green - as budding gardenias), of dewy mushroom and earth when in bloom and then of rot and bloody meat when browning. Buttery, rubbery and even metallic facets also emerge if one searches for them.
The natural blossoms are so powerful they can fill a room and continue to exude their scent for days after picking. In fact this is why tuberose had been a prime candidate for the enfleurage technique ever since its introduction in Grasse, in the south of France in the 17th century ("Enfleurage" is the traditional and now almost defunct technique of enrobing flowers in fat, letting them wilt in it for days, releasing their scent, and then treating the resulting pomade with solvents to render a very precious absolute). The tuberose blossoms are actually still in bud when picked, so that they can give off their full spectrum of scent as they wilt. It takes over 1200 kilos of buds to render 200gr. of tuberose absolute, which makes tuberose one of the most costly natural raw materials to use.
It therefore comes as no surprise that most tuberose in commercial perfumery is synthesized in the lab rather than natural. Though this cuts down on the cost factor and facilitates picking up one facet over another in the context of a given concept (say, emphasizing the creaminess over the camphorous, or the sweet floral over the indolic rot), the synthesized aroma is removed from the complex and at once fresh and carnal natural.
Thus a tuberose note in perfume can appear sickly and almost sticky, cloying, sledgehammering you over the head with its intense message. We can trace this as far back as 1980s if not before, as Giorgio, one of the defining perfumes of the decade, was using tuberose with all the subtlety of nails on a chalkboard. The effect was bombastic, powerfully floral, appearing as showing off one's affluence, just held in check by a base of vetiver that muted all the neon brightness. In contrast the natural oil rendered from good Indian tuberose varieties (or from the now very small fields left in Grasse) brings out all the base notes: ranging from buttery to leathery, from menthol to rubber and earth, all the way to woman's skin and even Chamonix orange cake! A good example of tuberose oil being used with naturalistic effect is Carnal Flower in the Frederic Malle niche line Editions des Parfums. This is the fragrance with the highest percentage of tuberose in the formula currently in the market.
If you want to get a good sniff of tuberose in isolation at a more affordable price to see if the scent agrees with your, you can resort to the Tubereuse candle/room spray in the Diptyque line. It should give you an idea.
THE HISTORICAL MILESTONES
The uber-classic reference for tuberose fragrances has always been (and will always be, it seems...) Fracas by Robert Piguet: the tuberose against which all other tuberoses measure up, influencing as diverse things as Chloe by Karl Lagerfeld, Jardins de Bagatelle by Guerlain and Amarige by Givenchy. Fracas, a transliteration of effect in name if there ever was one, judging by the derisive reception it has on people smelling it, came out in 1948, composed by Germaine Cellier; this maverick and iconoclast of a perfumer considered carefully conceived disruptive effects more important than over-ornamentalisation in her craft. The mastery of Fracas is that it achieves the creamiest, most calorific and lush floral effect (combining jonquil and orange blossom to tuberose to give a green and cleaner edge) while at the same time retaining a modicum of balance through a herbal top note and an abstract drydown of powder and woods. It's striking, dramatic, overpowering even sometimes, like a Callas aria, but it is full of beauty and emotion all the same. It takes a diva to carry it off successfully, which is why lesser mortals fail and attach a stigma to the fragrance; it's not the fragrance's fault!
It's fun to consider Amarige by Givenchy (1991) the other face of Janus: the two fragrances form two neat bookends; one loud but beautiful, the other loud and over the top. Givenchy enrolled Dominique Ropion to the task and he seems to have been so intent on at least matching the drama of Fracas (and his own godmother, Germaine Cellier) that he produced the highest-pitched tuberose in existence.
The radiance of Amarige is felt for miles, a fact that is not always appreciated and the creaminess and greenery of tuberose is substituted by the popular for the time frame synthetic base of cassis (a big element in 1980s perfumery) and a cluster of -right about that time emerging as soon to be popular- fruity notes. If tuberose is a diva overshadowing a full symphonic orchestra, Amarige put her on speakers too. But Ropion didn't match Fracas with Amarige, nor did he surpass it artistically. He fared much better when he was free of commercial restraints for his stint for F.Malle and Carnal Flower; this solar floral is choke-full of all the natural elements inherent in the living flower itself. The camphor qualities are exploited to the max via a eucalyptus note to render a life-like hologram, while the coconut tinge and the salicylates (ingredients that appear in some tropical flowers and also in suntan lotions) remind us that tuberose is really a tropical flower coming from warm climates and pelvis-tilting-friendly cultures.
But there's something for everybody and where there's noise and animated conversation there can also be some quiet and silken promises whispered in the dark. Serge Lutens, aided by his perfumer ally Christopher Sheldrake, composed the most gothic tuberose in existence and a historical landmark in the treatment of this capricious note: Tubereuse Criminelle is an etude in the polished facets of the flower with a most disconcerting top note of Vicks vapo-rub, an aberrant chill which takes you by surprise but subsides in the first 10 minutes. The contrast between the camphor and the flower are echoed in Carnal Flower (F.Malle), its successor, but the shadowy, menacing character of the Lutens perfume is not poised as natural as in the Malle, but as a solidly, cleverly manufactured effect that you perceive as a vignette of Expressionism or the fangs of a vampire slicing through vibrant flesh. This fire & ice game is as good as a thinking woman's (or man's) kinky romp in the bedroom. Rounding the attempts at competition, attrition and infatuation with Fracas, there's nothing left but a sincere homage and the one who paid her respects more convincingly was none other than perfumer Calice Becker for the niche brand By Kilian in her Beyond Love. It admittedly smells close to Fracas, but on the other hand its more refined trail of the best Indian tuberose and Egyptian jasmine absolutes presents something new. The perfumer's reference was not only the aromatic oil but also the living flower and in her perfume composition she tried to bridge the two into an harmonious melody. The womanly skin like note marries to the gourmand note of Chamonix orange cake and the effect is nothing short of truly beautiful and, curiously enough, more natural smelling than Fracas. Perhaps a pixelized installation of the Mona Lisa at the MoMa and not the prototype, but still a work of art on its very own.
OTHER WORTHWHILE TUBEROSE-HIGHLIGHTING FRAGRANCES:
Estee Lauder Private Collection Tuberose Gardenia (more of the gardenia part, for those reluctant for the full dosage of tuberose)
Annick Goutal Gardenia Passion (traitorously to the name, this is actually a tuberose)
Annick Goutal Tubereuse (a very high percentage of natural tuberose in this one)
Caron Tubereuse (an extrait of tuberose, with the glorious richness of Caron parfums)
Diptyque Do Son (a diluted but fresh and naturalistic tuberose for the shy, more concentrated and satisfying in the new eau de parfum)
Dior Poison 1980s vintage (a potently musky tuberose with grape notes on top)
Madonna Truth or Dare (another homage to Fracas, surprisingly pleasant and grown up for a celebrity scent)
L'Artisan Parfumeur Nuit de Tubereuse (a romantic and nuanced take, deeper in scent than usual for the brand)
Guerlain Jardins de Bagatelle (a fantasy of a garden with prominent tuberoses and other white florals) Honore des Pres Vamp a New York (the most playful tuberose on the market, fun and candied like bubble-gum and a great one to wear even casually)
Calvin Klein Beauty (a delicate and restrained, yet non timid tuberose with a polished sheen)
La Prairie Life Threads Silver (razor sharp pitch over buttery base notes)
Guerlain very rare Marie-Claire (a beautiful tuberose fragrance with lots of ylang ylang)
Balenciaga vintage Michelle (a very elegant and complex tuberose blend)
Dior Passage No.9 (a creamy tuberose with sparkly qualities)
La Via del Profumo Mona Lisa (an animalic and sexy tuberose with skin-like properties)
Polianthes tuberosa doesn't have any botanical or olfactory relation to roses, despite the name. This small white blossom flowering plant is its own thing, a "white floral" (in the same class as jasmine and orange blossom) with an intensity and creaminess beyond any other: Though the scent can be likened to that of orange blossom and gardenia, tuberose has interesting facets of camphor in the opening (comparable to - but not quite that green - as budding gardenias), of dewy mushroom and earth when in bloom and then of rot and bloody meat when browning. Buttery, rubbery and even metallic facets also emerge if one searches for them.
The natural blossoms are so powerful they can fill a room and continue to exude their scent for days after picking. In fact this is why tuberose had been a prime candidate for the enfleurage technique ever since its introduction in Grasse, in the south of France in the 17th century ("Enfleurage" is the traditional and now almost defunct technique of enrobing flowers in fat, letting them wilt in it for days, releasing their scent, and then treating the resulting pomade with solvents to render a very precious absolute). The tuberose blossoms are actually still in bud when picked, so that they can give off their full spectrum of scent as they wilt. It takes over 1200 kilos of buds to render 200gr. of tuberose absolute, which makes tuberose one of the most costly natural raw materials to use.
It therefore comes as no surprise that most tuberose in commercial perfumery is synthesized in the lab rather than natural. Though this cuts down on the cost factor and facilitates picking up one facet over another in the context of a given concept (say, emphasizing the creaminess over the camphorous, or the sweet floral over the indolic rot), the synthesized aroma is removed from the complex and at once fresh and carnal natural.
Thus a tuberose note in perfume can appear sickly and almost sticky, cloying, sledgehammering you over the head with its intense message. We can trace this as far back as 1980s if not before, as Giorgio, one of the defining perfumes of the decade, was using tuberose with all the subtlety of nails on a chalkboard. The effect was bombastic, powerfully floral, appearing as showing off one's affluence, just held in check by a base of vetiver that muted all the neon brightness. In contrast the natural oil rendered from good Indian tuberose varieties (or from the now very small fields left in Grasse) brings out all the base notes: ranging from buttery to leathery, from menthol to rubber and earth, all the way to woman's skin and even Chamonix orange cake! A good example of tuberose oil being used with naturalistic effect is Carnal Flower in the Frederic Malle niche line Editions des Parfums. This is the fragrance with the highest percentage of tuberose in the formula currently in the market.
If you want to get a good sniff of tuberose in isolation at a more affordable price to see if the scent agrees with your, you can resort to the Tubereuse candle/room spray in the Diptyque line. It should give you an idea.
THE HISTORICAL MILESTONES
The uber-classic reference for tuberose fragrances has always been (and will always be, it seems...) Fracas by Robert Piguet: the tuberose against which all other tuberoses measure up, influencing as diverse things as Chloe by Karl Lagerfeld, Jardins de Bagatelle by Guerlain and Amarige by Givenchy. Fracas, a transliteration of effect in name if there ever was one, judging by the derisive reception it has on people smelling it, came out in 1948, composed by Germaine Cellier; this maverick and iconoclast of a perfumer considered carefully conceived disruptive effects more important than over-ornamentalisation in her craft. The mastery of Fracas is that it achieves the creamiest, most calorific and lush floral effect (combining jonquil and orange blossom to tuberose to give a green and cleaner edge) while at the same time retaining a modicum of balance through a herbal top note and an abstract drydown of powder and woods. It's striking, dramatic, overpowering even sometimes, like a Callas aria, but it is full of beauty and emotion all the same. It takes a diva to carry it off successfully, which is why lesser mortals fail and attach a stigma to the fragrance; it's not the fragrance's fault!
It's fun to consider Amarige by Givenchy (1991) the other face of Janus: the two fragrances form two neat bookends; one loud but beautiful, the other loud and over the top. Givenchy enrolled Dominique Ropion to the task and he seems to have been so intent on at least matching the drama of Fracas (and his own godmother, Germaine Cellier) that he produced the highest-pitched tuberose in existence.
The radiance of Amarige is felt for miles, a fact that is not always appreciated and the creaminess and greenery of tuberose is substituted by the popular for the time frame synthetic base of cassis (a big element in 1980s perfumery) and a cluster of -right about that time emerging as soon to be popular- fruity notes. If tuberose is a diva overshadowing a full symphonic orchestra, Amarige put her on speakers too. But Ropion didn't match Fracas with Amarige, nor did he surpass it artistically. He fared much better when he was free of commercial restraints for his stint for F.Malle and Carnal Flower; this solar floral is choke-full of all the natural elements inherent in the living flower itself. The camphor qualities are exploited to the max via a eucalyptus note to render a life-like hologram, while the coconut tinge and the salicylates (ingredients that appear in some tropical flowers and also in suntan lotions) remind us that tuberose is really a tropical flower coming from warm climates and pelvis-tilting-friendly cultures.
But there's something for everybody and where there's noise and animated conversation there can also be some quiet and silken promises whispered in the dark. Serge Lutens, aided by his perfumer ally Christopher Sheldrake, composed the most gothic tuberose in existence and a historical landmark in the treatment of this capricious note: Tubereuse Criminelle is an etude in the polished facets of the flower with a most disconcerting top note of Vicks vapo-rub, an aberrant chill which takes you by surprise but subsides in the first 10 minutes. The contrast between the camphor and the flower are echoed in Carnal Flower (F.Malle), its successor, but the shadowy, menacing character of the Lutens perfume is not poised as natural as in the Malle, but as a solidly, cleverly manufactured effect that you perceive as a vignette of Expressionism or the fangs of a vampire slicing through vibrant flesh. This fire & ice game is as good as a thinking woman's (or man's) kinky romp in the bedroom. Rounding the attempts at competition, attrition and infatuation with Fracas, there's nothing left but a sincere homage and the one who paid her respects more convincingly was none other than perfumer Calice Becker for the niche brand By Kilian in her Beyond Love. It admittedly smells close to Fracas, but on the other hand its more refined trail of the best Indian tuberose and Egyptian jasmine absolutes presents something new. The perfumer's reference was not only the aromatic oil but also the living flower and in her perfume composition she tried to bridge the two into an harmonious melody. The womanly skin like note marries to the gourmand note of Chamonix orange cake and the effect is nothing short of truly beautiful and, curiously enough, more natural smelling than Fracas. Perhaps a pixelized installation of the Mona Lisa at the MoMa and not the prototype, but still a work of art on its very own.
OTHER WORTHWHILE TUBEROSE-HIGHLIGHTING FRAGRANCES:
Estee Lauder Private Collection Tuberose Gardenia (more of the gardenia part, for those reluctant for the full dosage of tuberose)
Annick Goutal Gardenia Passion (traitorously to the name, this is actually a tuberose)
Annick Goutal Tubereuse (a very high percentage of natural tuberose in this one)
Caron Tubereuse (an extrait of tuberose, with the glorious richness of Caron parfums)
Diptyque Do Son (a diluted but fresh and naturalistic tuberose for the shy, more concentrated and satisfying in the new eau de parfum)
Dior Poison 1980s vintage (a potently musky tuberose with grape notes on top)
Madonna Truth or Dare (another homage to Fracas, surprisingly pleasant and grown up for a celebrity scent)
L'Artisan Parfumeur Nuit de Tubereuse (a romantic and nuanced take, deeper in scent than usual for the brand)
Guerlain Jardins de Bagatelle (a fantasy of a garden with prominent tuberoses and other white florals) Honore des Pres Vamp a New York (the most playful tuberose on the market, fun and candied like bubble-gum and a great one to wear even casually)
Calvin Klein Beauty (a delicate and restrained, yet non timid tuberose with a polished sheen)
La Prairie Life Threads Silver (razor sharp pitch over buttery base notes)
Guerlain very rare Marie-Claire (a beautiful tuberose fragrance with lots of ylang ylang)
Balenciaga vintage Michelle (a very elegant and complex tuberose blend)
Dior Passage No.9 (a creamy tuberose with sparkly qualities)
La Via del Profumo Mona Lisa (an animalic and sexy tuberose with skin-like properties)
Friday, January 18, 2013
Procuring Ancient Arabian Essences
One of the delights of being a historian and a perfume writer is coming across excerpts which combine these two subjects. The Histories by Herodotus, the Greek "father of history", had been among my most beloved childhood readings; the wrapping of detailed cultural observations and travelogues (Herodotus was a great traveller) into the grander scheme of the clash of two civilizations and the ideals they represented had been especially exciting to my impressionable mind. Releafing through them for another project I again come across the passage about Arabia and the ancient aromatic essences produced in this most fragrant of lands.
Let's hear it from the man himself:
*Cassia and cinnamon come from the same tree, the only difference being that cinnamon is properly the branch with the bark on, whereas cassia is the bark without the branch. Ever since the former ceased to be traded, the latter has usurped the name, therefore "our" cinnamon is the cassia of the ancients. Pliny's description of the cassia agrees with the real cinnamon. (Therefore the "cinnamon" mentioned by Herodotys if not altogether a fable should be the calamus, or aromatic reed, mentioned by Diodorus and in Exodus.) The Phoenician word was probably identical with the Hebrew, cinamom, hence the Greek κινάμμωμον, and the Latin 'cinnamum'.
Samuel Bochart [Geographia Sacra seu Phaleg et Canaan (Caen 1646) II.iii] observes that all Greek names of spices are of Semitic origin. As the Phoenicians imported all those spices into Greece they would naturally be known to the Greeks by their Phoenician names.
Let's hear it from the man himself:
"Again, the most southerly country is Arabia; and Arabia is the only place that produces frankincense, myrrh, cassia, cinnamon and the gum called ledanon. All these, except myrrh, cause the Arabians a lot of trouble to collect. When they gather frankincense, they burn styrax (the gum which is brought into Greece by the Phoenicians) in order to raise a smoke to drive off the flying snakes; these snakes, the same which attempt to invade Egypt, are small in size and of various colors, and great umbers of them keep guard over the trees which bear the frankincense, and the only way to get rid of them is by smoking them out with storax. [...]
When the Arabians go out to collect cassia*, they cover their bodies and faces, all but their eyes, with ox-hides and other skins. The plant grows in a shallow lake, which together with the ground about it, is infested by winged creatures very like bats, which screech alarmingly and are very pugnacious. They have to be kept from attacking the men's eyes while they are cutting the cassia. [...]
The process of collecting cinnamon* is still more remarkable. Where it comes from, and what country produces it, they do not know; the best some of them can do is to make a fair guess that it grows somewhere in the region that Dionysus was brought ip.What they say is that the dry sticks, which we have learned from the Phoenicians to call cinnamon, are brought by large birds, which carry them to their nests, made of mud, on mountain precipices, which no man can climb, and that the method the Arabians have invented for getting hold of them is to cut up the bodies of dead oxen or donkeys, or dead animals into large joints, which they carry to the spot in question and leave on the ground near the nests. Then they retire to a safe distance and the birds fly down and carry off the joints of meat to their nests, which not bring strong enough to bear the weight, break and fall to the ground. Then the men come along and pick up the cinnamon, which is subsequently exported to other countries. [...]
Still more surprising is the way to get ledanon -or ladanum, as the Arabians call it. Sweet-smelling substance thought it is, it is found in a most malodorous place; sticking, namely, like glue in the beards of he-goats who have been browsing in the bushes. It is used as an ingredient in many kinds of perfume, and is what the Arabians chiefly burn as incense. So much for perfumes; let me only add that the whole country exhales an odor marvelously sweet. "
~Herodotus, The Histories, book III. (Translation in English by Aubrey de Selincourt)
*Cassia and cinnamon come from the same tree, the only difference being that cinnamon is properly the branch with the bark on, whereas cassia is the bark without the branch. Ever since the former ceased to be traded, the latter has usurped the name, therefore "our" cinnamon is the cassia of the ancients. Pliny's description of the cassia agrees with the real cinnamon. (Therefore the "cinnamon" mentioned by Herodotys if not altogether a fable should be the calamus, or aromatic reed, mentioned by Diodorus and in Exodus.) The Phoenician word was probably identical with the Hebrew, cinamom, hence the Greek κινάμμωμον, and the Latin 'cinnamum'.
Samuel Bochart [Geographia Sacra seu Phaleg et Canaan (Caen 1646) II.iii] observes that all Greek names of spices are of Semitic origin. As the Phoenicians imported all those spices into Greece they would naturally be known to the Greeks by their Phoenician names.
Wednesday, January 16, 2013
Perfume Primers: Chypre Fragrances for Newbies
No other fragrance category is so shrouded in confusion and wrapped into such awe as chypres. From the pronunciation (listen to this file) to the ingredients constituting a classic chypre perfume, it all sounds too sophisticated for dummies. Or isn't it so? Chypre fragrances have an irresistible pull, making us appreciate perfumery all the more so, because they expertly hinge on both intellectual and sensual qualities. So let's make chypres easy for everyone!
The History of Chypre Perfumes in Simple Terms
Chypre means Cyprus in French, the island in the Eastern Mediterranean where the oldest perfume factory of the world was discovered in Pyrgos Mavrorachi (the name means "fortress on the black slope" in Greek) dating to 2000BC, well before the Egyptian analogues. Cyprus has been instrumental in European history too: It has been a stronghold of Greek civilization since antiquity (the continuity of art styles and language suggests so) with a flourishing trade exchange with Egypt and later with the Roman conquerors; plus it has been the prime port of call of Eastern merchant routes between Europe and the Middle East, thanks to its strategic geopolitical position, and therefore supremely prized (and seized) by many foreign powers in the course of its millenia-long turmoiled history, starting with the Crusades and going...
But the name "chypre" (chypvra etc), apart from any geographical connotations, had travelled in aromatic stanzas throughout the Middle Ages, Renaissance and the Age of Enlightenment thanks to the vigorous commerce of the enterprising Cypriots who dabbled in a feminine product with an added scent: their famous "Cipria" powder, a cosmetic face powder -presented by various different local "houses"- which was further aromatized with the cypriot aromatic blends they had excelled at for centuries (And which, by all accounts, judging by the later specimens circulating into the 20th century, smelled not far off what we consider a chypre fragrance today!)
The vogue for powdered wigs in western Europe in the 17th century made Cipria one of the most widely used cosmetic products and the name is still referenced in Italian to this day for cosmetic powder. Let's not forget Cyprus is the mythological birthplace of Aphrodite/Venus, so the connection with beauty & grooming rituals was there all along. What better place then to sprout forth a product appealing to women (and the men who smell them) everywhere?
Therefore Cyprus and its "Cipria" had created a solid scent tradition. It was that tradition that the legendary François Coty-a Mediterranean merchant himself, hailing from Corsica- decided to put to good use. It is neverthless a myth that the first modern "chypre" was Coty's Chypre in 1917. Contrary to popular perception, François Coty was not the first to associate the name Chypre with a particular perfume. Guerlain's Chypre de Paris preceded him by 8 years, issued in as early as 1909. Chypre d'Orsay was the next one to be introduced in 1912. We can only attribute these names to the tradition of the "Cipria" echoed in these fragrances.
However it was Coty indeed (also dabbling in cosmetics) who first realized the familiarity of the chypre aroma of the Cipria would help make a fragrance drawing inspiration from it a commercial success. Even Chypre's packaging utilized motifs of cosmetics. His Chypre really took off and became an instant hit that created traction and a vogue for such "heavy" "green" perfumes. The rest, as they say, is history.
What makes a chypre "chypre", though?
In modern perfumery as established by Coty (and all subsequent chypres followed the scaffold he laid out) the basic structure of the chypre perfume is an harmony, an "accord", between 3 key ingredients: bergamot (a citrus fruit that grows all around the Mediterranean) - oakmoss (a tree lichen that grows on oaks mainly in the Balkans) - labdanum (a resinoid from cistus ladaniferus, or rockrose, a plant which grows in the Mediterranean basin, especially in Crete and Cyprus which was traditionally amassed off the hair of the goats that grazed on the bush). Three basic, common Mediterranean products, three Cypriot references for Chypre! Whatever other notes the sites/guides mention, those three must be in there for the fragrance at hand to qualify as a "classic chypre", a true descendant of Coty's Chypre from 1917. These "true/pure chypres" include such later perfumes as Carven Ma Griffe (1946) or E.Lauder's Knowing (1988)!
The tension between the fresh citrusy note and the pungent, earthy odor of oakmoss and of labdanum creates an aesthetic effect that is decidedly inedible (much like the masculine equivalent of fougère fragrances), denoting perfect grooming, always smelling "perfumey", polished, and often powdery. Which makes total sense given the background of the face powder it originated from! It also explains why chypres are extremely popular regardless of fashions in southern Europe as opposed to other countries.
Exactly because they smell like perfume, i.e. an add-on in no uncertain terms, they project an image of luxury, sophistication, status. They can be cerebral, cool and aloof, a The Times reader rather than chic lit browser, or they can be womanly and intimate like effluvium wafting off the boudoir, but whatever the case chypres always remain steeped in their Aphrodite-originating beauty.
Chypre fragrances often include patchouli and other woody notes, or animalic essences, for added intensity and mystery, while the heart of the perfume is always more or less floral. Although patchouli is ubiquitously included in chypres, it is a very common raw material for other families as well (such as the Orientals and many florals) and is therefore non conclusive as to the classification of any given fragrance ~barring very recent ones, more on which in a moment).
Because chypres are the sophisticated fragrance family par excellence it's very tempting to overreach and classify just any elegant and perfume-y fragrance in the genre!
It is especially common to confuse them with heavily woody Orientals (parfums Babani was on to something mixing the exoticism of Egypt with the chypre coolness in Chypre Egyptien back in 1923!) or with green woody florals such as Chanel No.19 (which is really a separate case, to which I will come back with a detailed breakdown.) or Silences (Jacomo), its logical godchild.
Sub-categories of Chypres
The beauty of the chypre is that it's a strict fragrance structure, but on this basic scaffolding the perfumer can add accent pieces that make the perfume lean into this or that direction. Like a basic "little black dress", you can accessorize with heels or with boots, with pearls or with chunky gold chains, with a fur stole or a colorful velvet shawl and create dazzlingly different looks.
Add green notes of grasses, herbs and green-smelling florals (such as hyacinth) and you have "green chypres" (Diorella, Givenchy III, Chanel Cristalle Eau de parfum, Shiseido Koto, E.Lauder Aliage, Jean Couturier Coriandre, Balenciaga Cialenga, Ayalitta by Ayala Moriel, the Deneuve perfume for Avon). Emphasize the woodier notes of patchouli, vetiver, pine needles and you have "woody chypres (Niki de Saint Phalle, the classic Halston by Halston, La Perla, Aromatics Elixir). Wrap everything in the succulence of ripe fruits -such as plum or peach- and you get the historically important "fruity chypres" league (Guerlain Mitsouko, Rochas Femme, the vintage Dior Diorama, Nina Ricci Deci Dela, Yves Saint Laurent Champagne/Yvresse, Amouage Jubilation 25, Ayala Moriel Autumn, Balenciaga Quadrille, Lutens Chypre Rouge).* Smother lots of discernible flowers and you get "floral chypres"(Ungaro Diva, Zibeline by Weil, Antilope by Weil, Charlie by Revlon, L'Arte de Gucci, E.Lauder Private Collection, Guerlain Parure, Tauer Une Rose Chypree, Agent Provocateur eau de parfum, DSH Parfum de Grasse, K de Krizia, Germaine Monteil Royal Secret, Armani Pour Femme "classic" by Armani, Esteban Classic Chypre). Sparkling aldehydes on top can further the claim that Caleche by Hermes is an "aldehydic chypre" (it's really poised between two categories that one, aldehydic floral and aldehydic chypre). Put the growl of a cat-in-heat via copious animal ingredients and "animalic chypres" appear (Miss Dior by Dior, Montana Parfum de Peau, Balmain Jolie Madame, Paloma Picasso).
Finally, although technically a separate family according to La Société Française des Parfumeurs (whose sub-classification I follow above as well) called "cuir"/"leather fragrances", there are a few perfumes that mingle notes reminiscent of leather goods with the general elements of a chypre, such as Chanel Cuir de Russie, Cabochard by Gres, Piguet Bandit, Caron Tabac Blond, vintage Dior Diorling.
*Although Le Parfum de Therese by Edmond Roudnitska (circulating in the F.Malle line) has fruity elements on the basic skeleton of a chypre, it has been argued that it is in fact a proto-aquatic, therefore I do not include it in this category on purpose.
In the Michael Edwards classification system (inspired by Firmenich charts and his own consultant job in the industry), chypres fall mostly into the "mossy woods" category, as Edwards doesn't include a "chypre" family per se as per tradition dictates, but rather intersperses them between woods and orientals (and moving leather fragrances into the "dry woods" category in his 2010 edition following new studies in odor perception). It's one way of viewing things that is more accessible to the consumer.
If orientals have traditionally built on a rose floral nucleus to further create smoothness, chypres have been traditionally constructed around a white flowers core (jasmine, tuberose etc), with the all important lily of the valley "opening" the bouquet, just like uncorking a bottle of wine a few minutes prior to drinking lets the aroma develop better. Specifically the more traditional floral "core" was constructed around an impression of gardenia (Another Cypriot reference as the ripe, narcotic blossom grows well on the warm shores of the island). The classic reference for that is the original Miss Dior (from 1947), now circulating as Miss Dior L'Original.
'Modern chypres' that "don't smell like chypres"
Even though years have passed and chypres fell out of vogue in the 1990s and early 2000s, there was a renewed interest in them after Narciso for Her eau de toilette was introduced into the market in 2004 (launched as a youthful chypre) and became a modern classic that influenced every other house. Basically these fragrances, which I call "nouveau chypres" (read more on them on this article of mine) are NOT technically chypres, but "woody floral musks" fragrances, with a "clean" non hippy-shop patchouli and vetiver base standing in for the reduced ratio of oakmoss allowed by modern industry regulations in regard to allergens (oakmoss is considered a skin sensitizer and therefore greatly reduced, which accounts for the reformulation -and thus unrecognizable state- of many classics). These include Gucci de Gucci, Lovely by SJP, Guerlain Idylle and Chypre Fatal, L'Eau de Chloe, Miss Dior Chérie, Chance by Chanel and countless others. A few however do manage to smell credible such as the underrated Private Collection Jasmine White Moss by E.Lauder; although totally modern, it doesn't betray the genre and smells like true progeny. Issey Miyake A Scent is taking the greener, airier stance of green chypres.
Although the term "chypre" nowadays means little to nothing to the modern consumer, as attested by the countless questions I receive when consulting, the industry insists on keeping it. The soft pink shade of these modern juices does make us think of the soft powdery color referenced as "cipria". Femininity, softness, cosmetics and Aphrodite rolled into a modern packaging. Or perhaps it's because chypre has at least 4000 years of history behind it...
If your interest has peaked and you want to find out more about chypre fragrances, please refer to Perfume Shrine's extensive series on Chypres:
Part 1: The origins of Chypre
Part 2: Chypre fragrance ingredients & formulae
Part 3: "Nouveau chypres" or "pink chypres" (modern chypre fragrances)
Part 4: Chypre perfume aesthetics
Part 5: Chypre perfume chronology and the zeitgeist
Part 6: Masculine Chypres: Does such a thing exist?
Part 7: The Chypres time forgot
Related reading on Perfume Shrine: Perfume Primers for Beginners & Beyond
For those who read French, a wonderful essay on the origins of the Cypriot strain of Cipria and chypre on this and that link. Also refer to "Aromata Cipria - Cyprus Perfumes" by. P.Flourentzos, M.R.Belgiorno, A.Lentini (dbas.sciant.unifi.it)
painting: Herbert James Draper "Pearls of Aphrodite"
The History of Chypre Perfumes in Simple Terms
Chypre means Cyprus in French, the island in the Eastern Mediterranean where the oldest perfume factory of the world was discovered in Pyrgos Mavrorachi (the name means "fortress on the black slope" in Greek) dating to 2000BC, well before the Egyptian analogues. Cyprus has been instrumental in European history too: It has been a stronghold of Greek civilization since antiquity (the continuity of art styles and language suggests so) with a flourishing trade exchange with Egypt and later with the Roman conquerors; plus it has been the prime port of call of Eastern merchant routes between Europe and the Middle East, thanks to its strategic geopolitical position, and therefore supremely prized (and seized) by many foreign powers in the course of its millenia-long turmoiled history, starting with the Crusades and going...
But the name "chypre" (chypvra etc), apart from any geographical connotations, had travelled in aromatic stanzas throughout the Middle Ages, Renaissance and the Age of Enlightenment thanks to the vigorous commerce of the enterprising Cypriots who dabbled in a feminine product with an added scent: their famous "Cipria" powder, a cosmetic face powder -presented by various different local "houses"- which was further aromatized with the cypriot aromatic blends they had excelled at for centuries (And which, by all accounts, judging by the later specimens circulating into the 20th century, smelled not far off what we consider a chypre fragrance today!)
The vogue for powdered wigs in western Europe in the 17th century made Cipria one of the most widely used cosmetic products and the name is still referenced in Italian to this day for cosmetic powder. Let's not forget Cyprus is the mythological birthplace of Aphrodite/Venus, so the connection with beauty & grooming rituals was there all along. What better place then to sprout forth a product appealing to women (and the men who smell them) everywhere?
Therefore Cyprus and its "Cipria" had created a solid scent tradition. It was that tradition that the legendary François Coty-a Mediterranean merchant himself, hailing from Corsica- decided to put to good use. It is neverthless a myth that the first modern "chypre" was Coty's Chypre in 1917. Contrary to popular perception, François Coty was not the first to associate the name Chypre with a particular perfume. Guerlain's Chypre de Paris preceded him by 8 years, issued in as early as 1909. Chypre d'Orsay was the next one to be introduced in 1912. We can only attribute these names to the tradition of the "Cipria" echoed in these fragrances.
However it was Coty indeed (also dabbling in cosmetics) who first realized the familiarity of the chypre aroma of the Cipria would help make a fragrance drawing inspiration from it a commercial success. Even Chypre's packaging utilized motifs of cosmetics. His Chypre really took off and became an instant hit that created traction and a vogue for such "heavy" "green" perfumes. The rest, as they say, is history.
What makes a chypre "chypre", though?
In modern perfumery as established by Coty (and all subsequent chypres followed the scaffold he laid out) the basic structure of the chypre perfume is an harmony, an "accord", between 3 key ingredients: bergamot (a citrus fruit that grows all around the Mediterranean) - oakmoss (a tree lichen that grows on oaks mainly in the Balkans) - labdanum (a resinoid from cistus ladaniferus, or rockrose, a plant which grows in the Mediterranean basin, especially in Crete and Cyprus which was traditionally amassed off the hair of the goats that grazed on the bush). Three basic, common Mediterranean products, three Cypriot references for Chypre! Whatever other notes the sites/guides mention, those three must be in there for the fragrance at hand to qualify as a "classic chypre", a true descendant of Coty's Chypre from 1917. These "true/pure chypres" include such later perfumes as Carven Ma Griffe (1946) or E.Lauder's Knowing (1988)!
The tension between the fresh citrusy note and the pungent, earthy odor of oakmoss and of labdanum creates an aesthetic effect that is decidedly inedible (much like the masculine equivalent of fougère fragrances), denoting perfect grooming, always smelling "perfumey", polished, and often powdery. Which makes total sense given the background of the face powder it originated from! It also explains why chypres are extremely popular regardless of fashions in southern Europe as opposed to other countries.Exactly because they smell like perfume, i.e. an add-on in no uncertain terms, they project an image of luxury, sophistication, status. They can be cerebral, cool and aloof, a The Times reader rather than chic lit browser, or they can be womanly and intimate like effluvium wafting off the boudoir, but whatever the case chypres always remain steeped in their Aphrodite-originating beauty.
Chypre fragrances often include patchouli and other woody notes, or animalic essences, for added intensity and mystery, while the heart of the perfume is always more or less floral. Although patchouli is ubiquitously included in chypres, it is a very common raw material for other families as well (such as the Orientals and many florals) and is therefore non conclusive as to the classification of any given fragrance ~barring very recent ones, more on which in a moment).
Because chypres are the sophisticated fragrance family par excellence it's very tempting to overreach and classify just any elegant and perfume-y fragrance in the genre!
It is especially common to confuse them with heavily woody Orientals (parfums Babani was on to something mixing the exoticism of Egypt with the chypre coolness in Chypre Egyptien back in 1923!) or with green woody florals such as Chanel No.19 (which is really a separate case, to which I will come back with a detailed breakdown.) or Silences (Jacomo), its logical godchild.
Sub-categories of Chypres
The beauty of the chypre is that it's a strict fragrance structure, but on this basic scaffolding the perfumer can add accent pieces that make the perfume lean into this or that direction. Like a basic "little black dress", you can accessorize with heels or with boots, with pearls or with chunky gold chains, with a fur stole or a colorful velvet shawl and create dazzlingly different looks.
Add green notes of grasses, herbs and green-smelling florals (such as hyacinth) and you have "green chypres" (Diorella, Givenchy III, Chanel Cristalle Eau de parfum, Shiseido Koto, E.Lauder Aliage, Jean Couturier Coriandre, Balenciaga Cialenga, Ayalitta by Ayala Moriel, the Deneuve perfume for Avon). Emphasize the woodier notes of patchouli, vetiver, pine needles and you have "woody chypres (Niki de Saint Phalle, the classic Halston by Halston, La Perla, Aromatics Elixir). Wrap everything in the succulence of ripe fruits -such as plum or peach- and you get the historically important "fruity chypres" league (Guerlain Mitsouko, Rochas Femme, the vintage Dior Diorama, Nina Ricci Deci Dela, Yves Saint Laurent Champagne/Yvresse, Amouage Jubilation 25, Ayala Moriel Autumn, Balenciaga Quadrille, Lutens Chypre Rouge).* Smother lots of discernible flowers and you get "floral chypres"(Ungaro Diva, Zibeline by Weil, Antilope by Weil, Charlie by Revlon, L'Arte de Gucci, E.Lauder Private Collection, Guerlain Parure, Tauer Une Rose Chypree, Agent Provocateur eau de parfum, DSH Parfum de Grasse, K de Krizia, Germaine Monteil Royal Secret, Armani Pour Femme "classic" by Armani, Esteban Classic Chypre). Sparkling aldehydes on top can further the claim that Caleche by Hermes is an "aldehydic chypre" (it's really poised between two categories that one, aldehydic floral and aldehydic chypre). Put the growl of a cat-in-heat via copious animal ingredients and "animalic chypres" appear (Miss Dior by Dior, Montana Parfum de Peau, Balmain Jolie Madame, Paloma Picasso).
Finally, although technically a separate family according to La Société Française des Parfumeurs (whose sub-classification I follow above as well) called "cuir"/"leather fragrances", there are a few perfumes that mingle notes reminiscent of leather goods with the general elements of a chypre, such as Chanel Cuir de Russie, Cabochard by Gres, Piguet Bandit, Caron Tabac Blond, vintage Dior Diorling.
*Although Le Parfum de Therese by Edmond Roudnitska (circulating in the F.Malle line) has fruity elements on the basic skeleton of a chypre, it has been argued that it is in fact a proto-aquatic, therefore I do not include it in this category on purpose.
In the Michael Edwards classification system (inspired by Firmenich charts and his own consultant job in the industry), chypres fall mostly into the "mossy woods" category, as Edwards doesn't include a "chypre" family per se as per tradition dictates, but rather intersperses them between woods and orientals (and moving leather fragrances into the "dry woods" category in his 2010 edition following new studies in odor perception). It's one way of viewing things that is more accessible to the consumer.
If orientals have traditionally built on a rose floral nucleus to further create smoothness, chypres have been traditionally constructed around a white flowers core (jasmine, tuberose etc), with the all important lily of the valley "opening" the bouquet, just like uncorking a bottle of wine a few minutes prior to drinking lets the aroma develop better. Specifically the more traditional floral "core" was constructed around an impression of gardenia (Another Cypriot reference as the ripe, narcotic blossom grows well on the warm shores of the island). The classic reference for that is the original Miss Dior (from 1947), now circulating as Miss Dior L'Original.
'Modern chypres' that "don't smell like chypres"
Even though years have passed and chypres fell out of vogue in the 1990s and early 2000s, there was a renewed interest in them after Narciso for Her eau de toilette was introduced into the market in 2004 (launched as a youthful chypre) and became a modern classic that influenced every other house. Basically these fragrances, which I call "nouveau chypres" (read more on them on this article of mine) are NOT technically chypres, but "woody floral musks" fragrances, with a "clean" non hippy-shop patchouli and vetiver base standing in for the reduced ratio of oakmoss allowed by modern industry regulations in regard to allergens (oakmoss is considered a skin sensitizer and therefore greatly reduced, which accounts for the reformulation -and thus unrecognizable state- of many classics). These include Gucci de Gucci, Lovely by SJP, Guerlain Idylle and Chypre Fatal, L'Eau de Chloe, Miss Dior Chérie, Chance by Chanel and countless others. A few however do manage to smell credible such as the underrated Private Collection Jasmine White Moss by E.Lauder; although totally modern, it doesn't betray the genre and smells like true progeny. Issey Miyake A Scent is taking the greener, airier stance of green chypres.
Although the term "chypre" nowadays means little to nothing to the modern consumer, as attested by the countless questions I receive when consulting, the industry insists on keeping it. The soft pink shade of these modern juices does make us think of the soft powdery color referenced as "cipria". Femininity, softness, cosmetics and Aphrodite rolled into a modern packaging. Or perhaps it's because chypre has at least 4000 years of history behind it...
If your interest has peaked and you want to find out more about chypre fragrances, please refer to Perfume Shrine's extensive series on Chypres:
Part 1: The origins of Chypre
Part 2: Chypre fragrance ingredients & formulae
Part 3: "Nouveau chypres" or "pink chypres" (modern chypre fragrances)
Part 4: Chypre perfume aesthetics
Part 5: Chypre perfume chronology and the zeitgeist
Part 6: Masculine Chypres: Does such a thing exist?
Part 7: The Chypres time forgot
Related reading on Perfume Shrine: Perfume Primers for Beginners & Beyond
For those who read French, a wonderful essay on the origins of the Cypriot strain of Cipria and chypre on this and that link. Also refer to "Aromata Cipria - Cyprus Perfumes" by. P.Flourentzos, M.R.Belgiorno, A.Lentini (dbas.sciant.unifi.it)
painting: Herbert James Draper "Pearls of Aphrodite"
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