Serge Lutens Vetiver Oriental: Tendrils of Earthy Green

photo copyright Elena Vosnaki

I cannot shake the impression that the task of scaling down, of attenuating the formula of Vetiver Oriental to the richness and sumptuousness of the material's roots is an algebraic challenge, a piano étude aimed at perfecting a specific agilité that is not in tune with the Lutensian way of usual opulence. And yet...and yet the result speaks in hushed, nocturnal voices of a decadent drawl; a few chiseled citrusy consonants, a little rubbery-smoky with the rosiness of gaiacwood, surprisingly sweet-spoken licorice-like (deriving from lots of anisaldehyde) with the earthy bitter edge of dry cocoa and loads and loads of polished woods, almost laminated... Read my full on fragrance review of Vetiver Oriental by Serge Lutens on THIS link.

The Tender Music of Guerlain Chant d'Aromes

Photograph copyright by Elena Vosnaki

  

Chant d’Arômes does not aim to be a link in the Guerlain chain, but making a fresh, ever young start it takes us into the realm of the eternally sunny. Although officially classified as a chypre floral by Guerlain, I find that its chypré qualities do not make it difficult, but on the contrary it serves as the perfect choice between floral and chypre for those who do not like the extremes of either category. Its innocence fondles the mystery of youth.

You can find my full length fragrance review on Guerlain Chant d’Arômes on THIS link. 

It's the perfect sweet melding of summer into autumn.

Points of Contrition: What Makes a Modern Fragrance Tick?

 Several fragrances flummox the shelves of department stores nowadays, more than at any other time in history; greed is a sin. But few of those survive or make their presence memorable enough to warrant having fans mention them after their afterglow has subsided. I began wondering: what makes a contemporary fragrance tick? What makes for its saving grace?

I made a list of some of the mainstream perfumes of the last few years which really stick and explain the reasons why, in my opinion, they deserve their well-earned redemption. 

Bottega Veneta Eau de Parfum is unquestionably among the finest releases of its time; if not the best, then definitely among the top 5 best mainstream fragrance releases of the last decade. The densely fruity compote of plums recalls fruity chypres of yore, in the frame of Femme and Mitsouko, while the leathery base lends refinement and self-confidence in a way that's sensuous and alluring.  

There are four key notes in Bottega Veneta's Eau de Parfum: jasmine sambac, Brazilian pink peppercorn, bergamot, and Indian patchouli; not particularly "dirty", but richly mature. The citrus and leather are recognizable from the start, while the perfume warms increasingly with candied plum notes fanning the floral heart of jasmine, on a resinous backdrop of caramelic notes and earthy oak moss. Bottega Veneta gains in patchouli strength, nuttier and sweeter, boosted by the humming leather, the longer it stays on. By no means a powerhouse, but the sillage and tenacity are undeniably very good, always creating that spark of dreamy wonder from strangers and friends alike that is the hallmark of a great scent: "which perfume are you wearing?"

Twilly by Hermes, as I have analysed in its "sparring" with Chanel's Gabrielle, hits all the right spots with street smarts coupled with an impressive pedigree; it basically had Gabrielle for lunch. But that's beside the point when it comes to its composite elements that help make it memorable. The ginger is treated like a gauze. It's never scathing or too hot to handle and its interlacing with the white floralcy of tuberose seems novel and familiar all at once. It's impossible not to like it. Twilly's success on the market will probably be used as a focus group litmus test for other perfumes to come... so its ginger note is one that begs attention. 

The fragrance looks like a kaleidoscope of green, floral, and even earthy and woody nuances, passing before your nostrils in quick succession, as if buoyed by the golden light of a glorious afternoon full of grace when everything seems to happily melt unto itself.

Twilly by Hermes doesn't remind me of any other fragrance I know, which is admirable in today's market, and it's witty enough, light enough to appeal to younger women without appearing condescending in the least.

Nomade by Chloé is a specimen of "everything old is new again". A total surprise, probably the best mainstream release of 2018 and for all the right reasons: It is different than anything else on the roster right now, it lasts exceptionally well, it projects in a civilized but definitely perceptible way, and it unites the past with the future thanks to its alliance of an old school concept executed in an achingly contemporary way.

 

What starts in Nomade Eau de Parfum as a fragrance to suggest traveling forth in place, is actually a scent to take you traveling back & forth in time. The retro inclusion of a significant portion of oakmoss-smelling materials, some of them cutting edge modern analogous stuff amassed by Quentin Bisch, makes for an "a-ha" moment.

Nomade not only smells, but also lasts, like perfumes of yore, with a powdery and earthy dry down, in that it has the backbone and solidity of older fragrances, yet it's transparent on top and airy, the way contemporary fragrances project. Most young women would nowadays find it rather masculine smelling, but I admit I find it intriguing and hopeful. The opening with its tingling note of hesperidia and peppery jolt is full of motion. But it's the alliance of the apricoty-peachy heart note, which is the marvel that causes the original Eau de Parfum concentration to make me sit up and notice in particular. 

There is the good news that Nomade has been updated in recent months with an Eau de Τoilette version of the already critically acclaimed eau de parfum.

 A floral fragrance is usually associated with romantic feelings and more prim personalities who personify all that is stereotypically feminine. Cartier, who fairly recently brought out Carat, is a very classy brand and their woman perfumer-in-house, Mathilde Laurent, is anything but stereotypical, so her latest feminine fragrance might seem like a prim and proper offering, but it is much more than simply that. This shiny little gem of a bottle hides a very fetching floral fragrance that would satisfy those after a cool-type floral with softness and ladylike projection.

Cartier Carat is a soft fragrance (the way Baiser Vole by Cartier also is), but manages to project in a very piercing, prismatic manner that unfolds the floral notes one by one, with lily and hyacinth predominant on my skin.

The scent of Estee Lauder Sensuous is also rather clever, even if not particularly ground-breaking, but again balances all the ingredients and chords in an effect that would make you feel, like one reviewer said, "the victim of your own fragrance snobbery." We tend to bypass mainstream releases in favor of niche, and yet there are some mainstream releases which make us wonder what we have been neglecting, or viewing with unwarranted contempt, and Sensuous is one of those scents.
 
Sensuous was moving the boundaries from already well known Estee Lauder floral notes towards an opulent oriental woodsy-amber concept, to praise the beauty and sensuality of women all ages, a decade back.

Lightly spicy and quite creamy, the original Sensuous gives me a warm, soft, just right impression of lightly scented skin, in a way paying homage to the creations of Lutens (though less spicy-sweet), but also winking in the direction of Tom Ford's personal favorite Santal Blush, which is also a very creamy and smooth skin scent if you let it dry down. The sandalwood is what is most prominent on my skin, totally a creative attempt at giving that old mainstay of perfumery a valiant effort, but quite effective and very indulgent; it's skin-like at the same time as it's clean and polished, perhaps with a distant whiff of smokiness in the background.

Guerlain Cuir Intense (Les Absolus d'Orient): fragrance review

For the latest release of the Les Absolus d'Orient collection, Cuir Intense, in-house perfumer Thierry Wasser creates a bewitching fragrance with the powerful leather note, while the osmanthus flower brings a sweet and apricot facet. The Virginian cedarwood adds structure to the deep and mysterious creation with a woody note that sublimates and unveils the diversity between the raw materials.

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 Those who expect a very suave training-bra leather, in the manner of Guerlain's previous and quite popular vanillic Cuir Beluga, will be astonished by the bite of Cuir Intense, although the name should have warned them somewhat. The leather facet is much drier, tar-like, with a spicy undertone that is cinnamic-clove-y in nature. The beautiful apricoty note of osmanthus reinforces the leathery impression in Cuir Intense and smothers the harshness in confident arpegios of projection. Much like Chanel's emblematic Cuir de Russie, there is a floral note that recalls jasmine-like tonalities in the heart, but Guerlain's is overall thicker. What is also important is a facet of violet-like undercurrent, if I'm not mistaken, before, or rather in tandem with, the woody-musky backdrop. I found that an intial sampling of Guerlain's Cuir Intense lasted very well on my skin and exceptionally well on a blotter, probably thanks to the intensity of the musks in the formula.

 It is very much on point in the Absolu series, as it translates well the concept of a dense oriental elixir, the way we Westerners imagine those things through, no doubt, rose-tinted glasses (or shall I say "noir-tinted glasses"?) Most would find it leans more masculine than feminine, although as with all the fragrances in the line, Cuir Intense is aimed at both sexes. It's certainly interesting enough to warrant sampling for all Guerlain fans and then some.

Serge Lutens Sarrasins: fragrance review

The beast cradles the jasmine vine in the garden and its salty-dirty stench of its hide, as well as the warmth of its fur, only serve to enhance the character of this not so innocent blossom. Smelling Sarrasins I'm momentarily reminded of horse saddles, India ink (no doubt aided in my allusion to it by the deep purple of the mysterious liquid in the bell jar bottle,) ripe fruit that sweetens the breath like apricot pulp, camphor, everything and the kitchen sink; but it's all an illusion.  

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The jasmine is laced with spice, notes of cardamom, star anise and cinnamon, which all sounds like a natural course for Lutens, wedding the Arabian cuisine condiments & spices to single materials of his liking, like he did with Chypre Rouge and Rousse. But truth be told, spices are only alluded to in Sarrasins, with a pong of sweaty cumin and a cool mantle of cardamom, while jasmine clutches them fiercely.  Essentially, no pun intended, Sarrasins is a big jasmine fragrance, natural essence off-notes of petrol and all, molested against the wall by animalic notes: the salty-dirty pong of civet, the skanky smell of musk, even a tamer musk which silkens out the feline quality of this superb scent.

Always, always, in the best creations by the tiny Frenchman, whom we love to affectionately call "uncle Serge," we're dealing with Beauty and the Beast, to reference that other Frenchman, Jean Cocteau. The beast cradles the jasmine vine in the garden and we dearly hope that small children have reverted to their beds for a nightmare-free nap.

Gucci Bloom Gocce di Fiori (2019): fragrance review

The interpretation of tuberose floralcy in Gucci Bloom Gocce di Fiori is beautifully lighter, cooler and altogether more stereotypically "pretty" than all the previous editions. Gocce is plural for goccia in Italian, the perfume's name meaning "drops of flowers." And it is!

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The honeysuckle impression is quite pronounced in this flanker fragrance, reminding me of one of my favorite honeysuckle fragrances, the extremely cute Petals by Lili Bermuda Perfumery, a burst of refreshing, nectarous, piercingly sweet blossoms floating in the suspended air of a mild springtime afternoon.

A lighter and fresher variant of the original "vintage" floral perfume, Gocce di Fiori brings an atmosphere of the beginning of spring. Instead of the classical scented composition of the top, middle and base notes, Gocce di Fiori opens with trio of highly concentrated noble ingredients: jasmine bud, natural tuberose absolute and Chinese honeysuckle flower (Rangoon Creeper).



The fragrance circulates as an Eau de Toilette, as compared with Nettare di Fiori which is Eau de Parfum Intense and the original Gucci Bloom which is Eau de Parfum concentration.

Gucci Bloom Nettare di Fiori (2018): fragrance review

"Intensely sensual and feminine, Gucci Bloom Nettare di Fiori celebrates the intimate and authentic character of a woman. Rose and Osmanthus flower resonate in an enigmatic, woodier blend together with the notes of the original Gucci Bloom." This is what the company says about Gucci Bloom Nettare Di Fiori Eau de Parfum Intense (2018) composed by perfumer Alberto Morillas who developed both the original Gucci Bloom and Gucci Bloom Acqua di Fiori.

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Gucci Bloom Nettare Di Fiori is a sensual and darker interpretation of the original, with additional notes of rose, ginger, osmanthus, and patchouli. Don't take that darker claim too seriously, now, though. Gucci Bloom Nettare di Fiori is admittedly not as airy and sentimental as the lighter interpretations of Acqua di Fiori and Gocce di Fiori (for which you will have to read on to find out what it's about), but it's not really sinister, nor dangerous. The concept remains a modern and feminine patchouli-sprinkled scent of white flowers with a good intersection of a prune-peachy base chord with a salty musky hint, that might have been extracted from an older fragrance, but not quite. The balance leans into the contemporary, with only a hint of retro.

Although both tuberose and patchouli share mentholated facets, and the tuberose in the original Gucci Bloom is certainly mentholated on top, not a blanket statement for all tuberose fragrances in the market, in Nettare di Fiori the effect is mild and subdued. There is no risk of alienating anyone with the suspicion of mothballs emanating from your clothes.

Gucci Bloom Acqua di Fiori (2018): fragrance review

The funny thing with tuberose is that in its complex glory it's a blossom that hides an intensely green facet. Its top note is a mentholated cool blast of frosty air to surprise your sinuses, before the meaty and juicy facets reveal themselves. How could this green element be extended from the original Gucci Bloom into a lighter interpretion?

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Alberto Morillas thought about this and confidently injected a galbanum resin top note which braces without cutting. The slightly fruity and at once ammoniac feel of cassis should round out the green in a sour-sweet note which provides the characteristic freshness in Bloom Acqua di Fiori. The fragrance sweetens after the opening, comfortably retreating into the familiar white floral bouquet of the original.

Gucci Bloom Acqua Di Fiori is therefore a greener interpretation of the original.The perfumer took the original delicately spicy-floral composition of tuberose, jasmine and Chinese honeysuckle (Rangoon creeper), the red-flowered vine that premiered in perfume design, and made it fresher by introducing green accords. The drydown is woody and musky, made to convey warmth and depth. It is said to be an invigorating and radiant, lightly green and floral fragrance of highly concentrated ingredients.

Top notes: galbanum leaf, cassis bud
Heart: tuberose, jasmine, rangoon creeper
Base: sandalwood, musk

Which fragrances does the president of the Fragrance Foundation choose?

In a very comprehensive, and quite extensive, coverage in In the Cut, Jane Larkworthy tackles that rather intriguing subject, Linda G.Levy, the president of The Fragrance Foundation since 2017.

She seems to have a quite extensive collection, naturally, as would be expected, with the occasional renegade choice or two in there, but not extremely deviating from the norm of the niche buying public.
As ms.Levy herself states, "my selection includes — but is definitely not limited to — Frederic Malle Portrait of A Lady, Diptyque Philoskykos, Le Labo Bergamot, Creed Floralie, Cartier Carat, Bond No. 9 Little Italy, Narciso Rodriguez, Diana Vreeland Staggeringly Beautiful, Tom Ford Neroli Portofino, and Atelier Cologne Iris Rebelle. I always have a travel size bottle or two in my purse."

Scent does seem to be of genuine interest to her, extending to indoors surroundings, with the choice of scented candles, with her favorites being Otherland Kindling, Nest Bamboo, and Cire Trudon Salta.

You can read the entire article in the link.

Hermes Le Jardin de Monsieur Li: fragrance review

Musing by Guest Writer AlbertCAN

创新是什么? 可以吃吗？
What is innovation? Is it edible?
—Contemporary Mandarin humour*

和谐 (Trad. 和諧)
Pinyin: hé xié
1. harmonious; harmony
2. (euphemism) to censor

Of all the celebutantes the fragrance world has attributed to—Jicky, Madame Rochas, Misia, Monsieur de Givenchy, Liù, just to name a few—I have a particular affinity to Monsieur Li, an eponymous personality penned by Jean-Claude Ellena, the now-emeritus master perfumer for the iconic French design house Hermès.

As with everything in life, timing is everything: I have befriended Li in the spring of 2015, during an relocation to Vancouver’s historic Chinatown district, not only working as a financier to a heritage bank, but also living mere blocks away from Dr. Sun Yat-Sen Classical Chinese Garden, the first Suzhou-style garden established outside of China and aptly named after the Father of the Nation in the Republic. Corner office befitting a financier? Check. Tasteful requisite objets d'art for a banking office? Of course. (Can you expect any less?) Ambient scent of choice, in the heart of Chinatown ? Hermès Le Jardin de Monsieur Li (2015).

At this juncture of the musing let’s get something out of the way: This Monsieur Li is a fictional character. And to any native Chinese speaker, this man is a gentle synecdoche to Mainland China . Please do not reduce this surname as an exercise in economy—any native Mandarin would instantly attribute this man as a Mainlander. (As opposed to Lee, who are most likely not.) In fact, under such context, this gentleman is somewhat of an everyday man, arguably China ’s cultural equivalent of Mr. Smith from North America, Monsieur Durand France . Given such logic, the name for this fragrance betrays a poetic subtext: A Garden of Everyman.

Hermès, Everyman? As I can hear the gentle murmur amongst you, dear audience. Ringing the affirmative is the answer. If I shall name one outstanding quality of Monsieur Li, incredible sociability comes to mind. Master perfumer Ellena has selected gentle note contrasts as the foundation of his jardin compositions, and this citrus aromatic is no exception. The garden here opens with kumquat, a beguiling citrus the Chinese often fondly savour during happier times—as confits during Lunar New Year, even serving along a variety of preserved foods from lotus to coconut, melon, ginger to the all important Chinese deities, as a mean to sweeten their tongues (lest them bad-mouth the mortals upon returning to celestial abodes for the holiday). Kumquat trees are also often a staple in Chinese and Vietnamese Lunar New Year celebrations, as they symbolize good fortune and prosperity. The inclusion of jasmine here, of course, is somewhat of a foregone conclusion, given the exalted status of the flora in China . Although, mind you, this jasmine is also resoundingly à propos in its political correctness, arguably not just because of the utilization of Hedione High Cis: I suspect any concrete conjuring of the real deal may be misinterpreted as a reminder of the Thou-Shall-Not-Be-Named failed coup d'état, with its moniker attributed possibly related to the flora in question.** White musk and mint round off the harmonious bouquet. The overall sillage persistently optimistic, the mellow diffusion a study of calibrated cheerfulness. The aromatic bone structure murmurs excellent breeding. Its gentility evident; its silken elegance aplenty.

Does Hermès Le Jardin de Monsieur Li, complete with its effortless joy, complement the Les Jardins series? Yes. Can this Monsieur Li potentially be a kissing cousin to another? That’s also a yes.

“Why are you choosing my signature fragrance as your office scent?” 

Soon after debuting my ambient choice a Financial Planner discreetly confronting me so. The issue? Her signature scent in question is Green Tea by Elizabeth Arden. That discussion eventually turning into a passionate side-by-side scent development mini symposium—amongst two financiers, no less. (The absurdity of that situation is completely lost upon me.)

Years after that rhapsodic episode the underlying issue is worth a sombre second thought here. This garden is not the Chinese of yore. Ellena can choose from a wide range of Chinese landmarks—many of which UNESCO certified to boot—yet this isn’t the case. The aromatic elements mentioned are of Chinese origin, yet under different contexts they can also be interpreted in a very modern fashion. In fact, this fragrance is decidedly modern—androgynous, versatile—and there’s a delicate sexual fluidity underneath its aromatic pulse. (A scent referencing a gender, however unisex, cannot be devoid of sexuality altogether, no?) Likewise, the garden of Li is neither composed of imperial peonies nor sandalwood. Simply put, this is for Modern China, period.

Style wise I actually consider this fragrance to be in complete alignment with Rhythm of China (2007), the first ever Chinese-themed Hermès silk scarf designed by a Chinese artist. Just look at it. There’s an air of electricity permeating throughout. Perhaps the traffic lights during the day, or is it neon lights by night—perhaps both? And yet, wrapping it around a Kelly or a Birkin bag, or simply wearing it as is, the jolt transforms into something else, something decorative. There’s something harmonious about such ambiguity.

It’s no accident that we have referenced the concept of harmony, or hé xié in Mandarin, several times throughout this article. While it’s an important principle of design in its own right, harmony is no trifle matter within contemporary Chinese culture. I am going to reference Wikipedia here, since it succinctly summarizes the heart of this matter:

The "Socialist Harmonious Society" concept represents a new direction of Chinese communist leadership that signified the transition between Jiang Zemin and Hu Jintao. Although on the surface, "socialist harmonious society" seems benign, many scholars believe that General Secretary Hu has a vision for a deeper reform of the political system in China . In addition, the idea of scientific development stresses on scientific discovery and technological advance, engines for sustainable growth in the long run. Sustainable growth is a concept in macroeconomics that signifies GDP at potential (i.e. all that is produced is being consumed and there is no cyclical unemployment) for years to come.

In addition, the Socialist Harmonious Society concept was a response to the problem of social inequality/ wealth gap, which if not dealt with immediately, could lead to social unrest and even turmoil. A key reason contributing to a widening wealth gap was social injustice, which features collusion between entrepreneurs and officials. Through collusion, entrepreneurs were able to buy land from farmers and then sell it at high prices. Furthermore, with the protection of local officials, private coal mine owners ignored safety regulations to cut production costs. As a result, thousands of miners are killed in accidents.

Since the Tiananmen Square protests of 1989, the leadership has been extremely sensitive about maintaining stability. General Secretary Hu's focus on stability and openness is the central model addressed in the book The J Curve: A New Way to Understand Why Nations Rise and Fall by Ian Bremmer. According to Bremmer, the Chinese government is trying carefully to avoid instability by jumping from a controlled social environment on one end to complete openness on the other. The "J Curve" model is applicable to the political development of most nations and presents a choice between stability and openness. The concept of "Socialist Harmonious Society" is said to include both elements of the model. Hence, Hu's "socialist harmonious society" has an underlying message of establishing political reform as well as safeguarding social justice and equality.***

So how does this affect the aesthetics of Monsieur Li? Further notation from the same article:

While initially the public's reaction to the idea was positive, over the years "Harmonious Society" has emerged as a euphemism for "stability at all costs," and has garnered its share of critics. The government often uses "Harmonious Society" to justify the suppression of dissent and the tight control on information in China . Some social commentators have pointed out the irony that in building a "harmonious society" the country has become less just, less equal, and less fair. Meanwhile, some of Hu's critics say that application of the "Socialist Harmonious Society" concept has resulted in anything but itself. China scholar Cheng Li said that Hu's failure in implementing the Socialist Harmonious Society program has been his "gravest pitfall" during his tenure. Critics cite the increased wealth gap, higher internal security budgets, and unprecedented corruption in state-owned industries as evidence that Socialist Harmonious Society has failed in practice.

The term "River crab" (Chinese: 河蟹; pinyin: héxiè) has been adopted as internet slang in Mainland China in reference to Internet censorship. The word river crab sounds similar to the word "harmonious" in Mandarin Chinese. In addition, the word "harmonious" can itself also be the placeholder verb for "to censor", most often referring to posts on a forum that have been deleted because of its unacceptable content, or the censorship of stories reporting sensitive issues in the press. Something that has been censored in this manner is often referred to as having been "harmonized" (被和谐了).***

Yet I have digressed. Let’s talk corporate bottom line, shall me?

Ellena, no matter how much of an exalted figure in perfumery, could not afford to miss boat here. Especially after Un Jardin après la Mousson (2008). And with this Chinese garden being one of his swan songs, a failure to launch would have been disastrous. This is really not the time to experiment, to innovate.

Traditional China might sound romantic to some, but that crowd has never been the core of the Hermès growth—it’s the nouveau riche that has kept the financial engine humming.

There’s no doubt in my mind that Ellena’s stature in perfumery is reassuringly beyond reproach. At this same time, as much as we would like to think that the Mida’s touch is in spades, this launch is stacking up to be much too expensive for a risk. What it’s all said and done, harmony reigns supreme.

Now I am really not in a position to surmise development details of the Hermès Le Jardin de Monsieur Li, though I often wonder if its lack of assertion ends up serving as a footnote on the general zeitgeist of Modern China, however breath-taking its metamorphosis may be.

Often when I visit this Chinese garden, I wonder what my friend Monsieur Li looks like. Willowy of course, impeccably decked in Hermès no doubt. Graciously open-minded yes, perhaps generous to a fault. Good looking, yet with a somewhat forgetful ordinarity about his charm. However personable he may be, his words are diplomatic, action always calibrated. I think there’s a fluidity in his way, but I think he keeps it out of joint. Never putting his heart on his sleeves, never speaking his mind directly to anyone.

Hermès Le Jardin de Monsieur Li is a Citrus Aromatic fragrance for woman and men, and available in select Hermès boutiques and Point of Sales worldwide.

This fragrance review is based on a sample personally purchased by the writer in 2015 at an Hermès boutique.

Photos by Hermès and Wikipedia Common.

* Any arbitrary concept can be substituted into this modern sarcasm, to denote the futility of a particular idea—especially since sustenance is the cornerstone of Chinese culture.

** I’m absolutely in no position to comment on anything related to this matter. Googling “jasmine contraband New York Times” shall suffice—should your region allows so.

*** https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Harmonious_Society

Collection photographs

All pictures by Elena Vosnaki.

Hermes Un Jardin sur la Lagune: fragrance review

In old novels, in the time of Balzac and thereabouts (as I have written in detail before), or even prior to that time, there is the well-known trope of the poor relative, usually female, who receives the second hand clothes of their elders and betters in social status, with the acceptance of keen appreciation of their circumstances. Governesses, school mistresses, nurses, or beneficiaries of a small income of a few pounds or francs a year, thanks to the generosity and sense of due of an almost unknown yet benevolent antecedent. In the world of perfumes, this situation is usual and usually ignites the same condescending acceptance: "close, but no cigar; divested of the elements which make the original truly flamboyant or plush, bon pour l'Orient."

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It's with great pleasure that I found out that Un Jardin sur la Lagune by Hermes (a spring 2019 launch) is an exception to that scenario. One of my favourite and closest to heart fragrances, Lys Méditerranée by perfumer Edouard Fléchier for the niche brand of Frédéric Malle, has a little cousin; one who does not ape the greater one, nor does it deign to wear the elder's hand-me-downs, Un Jardin sur la Lagune by Hermes.

An abstract feeling of petals from flowers of another dimension, of champaca and bliss, unfolds into space like cones which embraces with arms opens wide, with the piquant joy of citrusy touches and the blissful cocoon of white musk.

In Un Jardin sur la Lagune, inspired by a secret Venetian garden which Christine Nagel, in-house perfumer for Hermes, discovered thanks to the writings of a blogger, the feeling of solace and silent contentment is palpable.

The scent of far away algae is delicate in Un Jardin sur la Lagune yet there, the salty water which hits the lonely craggy shore or the foundations of an old building immersed into the water, possesses that sort of introspection, a very humane sense of disorganisation and an ironic look on the state of the Human Condition that even Balzac would be jealous of.

Les Jardins series in the Hermes portfolio is a line of easy and lightweight fragrances which began its course in 2003 with Un Jardin sur la Méditerranée, the impression of a mediterranean garden where people nibble on freshly cut figs. Next came Un Jardin sur le Nil (2005), inspired by a trip to Assouan, in Egypt; then Un Jardin apres la Mousson (2008), evoking the watery landscape of Kerala, India, after the passing of the monsoon; Un Jardin sur le Toit (2011), inspired by the war-time garden on the terrace of the flagship Hermes boutique in Paris, and Le Jardin de Monsieur Li (2015), a minty citrus evoking a special eastern garden. 
All prior Jardin fragrances have been composed by legendary perfumer Jean Claude Ellena (an interview of whom I had the honour of taking HERE), and therefore Un Jardin sur la Lagune is Christine Nagel's first entry in the series. 

Cerruti 1881: fragrance review

The realm of soapy fragrances is huge, probably because "cleanliness is next to godliness" in several cultures. Therefore buying at least one fragrance that would prolong that feeling of freshness and would broadcast one's good intentions and respectability all around is probably necessary in an inclusive and nuanced fragrance wardrobe.

Fenella Chudoba by Zhang Jingna via

Within this vast field there is a spectrum: some soapy nuances come from fatty aldehydes, accounting for classic aldehydic florals like Chanel no.5 and Arpege, some come with powdery accents like Caleche, while some with their own dry but at the same time soothing, innocent elements. Cerruti 1881 belongs to this latter category with "flour de lin" its signature core note, as per perfumer Claire Cain.

The note of chamomile is the dominant one, however, throughout Cerruti 1881 For Women, a soothing note of German chamomile tisane, almost soporific, though the dryness of the composition retains it from becoming too juvenile and keeps it in the adult world.  Herbal without being green or aromatic, it projects like an imaginary linen flower, tactile and smooth.
A section of iris projects starchy and ironed, like a shirt that has been pressed, while the accompanying, powerful note of mimosa is that touch of innocence that prolongs the feeling of the chamomile. Mimosa has light heliotrope-like and honeyed-sugared aspects, and it naturally includes farnesol which acts as an insect pheromone within the blossom, but as a fixative and floralizer in perfumery. It almost gives a linden tree impression, which further reinforces the soothing properties of chamomile.

In short, it's hard to be seen as dangerous in something like Cerruti 1881, but its dry elegance makes it a suitable fragrance for innocuous occasions and office wear. Its light, starched florals quality makes for an easy like from most people.

Three Graces in the Bathroom

photo by Elena Vosnaki (copyright)

Let this be a lesson on consuming liquid pleasure. 

L'Artisan Parfumeur Dzing!: fragrance review

Which scent is capable of bringing out your inner Cat People? Have you ever wondered? This old specimen from the time when L'Artisan Parfumeur was a niche perfumes pioneer , Dzing!, is a strange amalgalm of animal hide and animal waste plus the compelling smell of old paper.

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Smelling old books and that particular feeling of abstract fluff that is industrial cardboard used for moving boxes have some things in common: they have a starchy, almost vanillic nuance to them, but flat and non sweet, like a cake that lacks sugar but still retains the sweetish tinge of a comforting spice.

Dzing! by L'Artisan Parfumeur was inspired by the zoo, by the sawdust and the animals, the fun and festive air that surrounds a performance, but also the comforting feel of a childhood memory. It's probably not a surprise that vanilla is so closely tied to childhood memories. Dzing! does not immediately recall vanilla, it actually smells like a cross between moving boxes, sawdust and old books, all of this sprinkled with the slightly unsettling hint of animal musk in the distance; this thing is heaving. The light leather tinge is sexy and intimate, musky soft-smelling; a synergy between a saffron note with something birch-derived or musky-suede, rather than the rough isoquinolines in butch scent variations of leather fragrances. The overall impression is not sweet as the given notes might suggest, only in that register that skin and fur smells a tad sweetish and lightly salty.

But that's probably what a person who appreciates smells odder than the standard cake vanilla would find themselves peering into, with an upturned eyebrow and a keen interest in their eye; count me among them. Dzing! isn't very easy to wear but the experience is rewarding. Just imagine what people with keen noses might think and be too embarrassed to mention. Priceless.

Fragrance notes for L'Artisan Parfumeur Dzing!: leather, ginger, tonka bean, musk, white woods, caramel, saffron, toffee, candy apple and cotton candy.

Related reading on PerfumeShrine:

Modern Leather Fragrances short reviews
Perfumes and Fur, les perfumes fourrure and the intimacy of furry stuff
Animalic Notes: the skanky scent of sexy

Jo Malone Honeysuckle & Davana: fragrance review

Jo Malone's latest fragrance launch Honeysuckle & Davana is advertised as a happy smell and it most definitely is a happy smell. One that feels like fortunate news spreading through the peals of countryside church bells into the distance; smiles in a nursery when the little one first stretches his/her facial muscles into that endearing way that has caretakers have their heart aflutter; or of long lost friends meeting at a long awaited rendez-vous. The brand's choice to illustrate the fragrance with the girl with the canary is spot on, even if canaries do not dot the English countryside by any stretch of the imagination.

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Honeysuckle & Davana is quite fresh and honeyed at the same time, and at that intriguing intersection between warm and cool which I find very alluring. There is an oscillating ribbon of white florals right in the middle of the scent, further cementing that freshness which blooms when the scent is sprayed liberally. This is a fragrance that reveals facets when used in excess, much like their previous Mimosa & Cardamom needs the bigger spray rather than the applying with a small wand on skin testing technique to fully reveal its pretty message. Compared with that other honeysuckle fragrance in the Jo Malone catalogue, Honeysuckle & Jasmine (1999), which used to be quite charming in its naturalistic impression of a fragrant garden at dusk somewhere south, the newer edition is more upbeat, with interesting facets that differentiate it from the white florals that are so screechingly taking over perfume counters as the "immediate femininity" index when the whole isn't hoarding under tons of syrupy sweetness...

In the drydown of Honeysuckle & Davana, we come up with a mix of an earthy note that might be attributed to Evernyl, but which is also mixed with clean, starched white musks (and which provides the very tenacious part, however those who are anosmic to some musks might find this undetectable, so try before you buy).

The madness of good ol' times...

Back when I bought almost each and every one Serge Lutens fragrance launch.
I also have a few bell jars (subsequent post about those) and 2 spare bottles of Fleurs d'Οranger in the bathroom for sustenance in times of need. :)

Now let me see: What shall I wear?

photograph copyright by Elena Vosnaki, from my own fragrance collection

A Merry, Merry Christmas...

To all my PerfumeShrine readers, who still check the page regularly, even if they do not comment, may this be your most lovely Christmas yet! May the world be at peace if possible, and may people at large feel content.


Music: O come, o come Emanuel from The Piano Guys.

In Memoriam: Vero Kern

It was with a sad heart (and some surprise) I learned of Vero Kern's passing.
It was an honor communicating with her, getting to know her kind nature, and experiencing her lovely fragrances, which proved beyond doubt that one can change course in life at any age. She will be missed.

And we will be longing for her creations, I bet, in the years to come. May someone pick up the line after her, to commemorate her talent and her generosity of spirit.

Caron Parfum Sacre Intense eau de parfum: fragrance review

Back when I was a teenager I developed a strong belief that "real" perfume was supposed to harken to its oriental roots and smell of the East; or at least what my west-laden eyes of the mind imagined a mythical East to be like. Parfum Sacre (sacred perfume, the quintessential notion of eastern scent), launched in 1991, at the cusp of the transition into the blander part of mainstream perfumery after a clashing cacophony of too many loud perfumes worn all together in the 1980s, and it sort of flopped commercially. But it was such a good execution that they have kept it. And when the Parfum Sacre Intense version rolled over by Parfums Caron in 2010 I admit I was greatly intrigued.

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There was a 1925 fragrance called Mystikum, by perfume Scherk, tagged "the mystery of flowers" of all things, and accompanied by a full range of body products in the coming years, but surely the name would fit Caron's perfume perfectly as well.

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I own a quite large decant of Caron's Parfum Sacre Intense (more like a purse spray), and I should quickly upgrade to a full bottle, but each time I use it I feel like a goddess on a pedestal, receiving rites of peppery spices and rosy sacrifices upon a sacrificial altar, while myrrh fills the atmosphere with the solemnity of religion. The myrrh is especially warm, bittersweet, with no powdery after-effects, so it doesn't project as "clean" or "groomed" rather than sombre and liturgical, but it's the alliance of spicy rose with musk which makes the real message of devotion to a higher being. For once, rose sheds its prim guise and reveals a throbbing heart full of thorns.

I dig this kind of ritual and therefore Parfum Sacre Intense aims for the sweet spot. Touchée.

I just wish they hadn't changed the bottle, from the glorious deep purple with the peppercorns into the blander columnar ones they have used when revamping the line a couple of years ago...