Narciso Rodriguez Essence: fragrance review

Narciso For Her by young, hip and understated designer Narciso Rodriguez had me at hello all those years ago with its delicious musky trail that is too sexy for words, yet polished enough to pass off as classy; ever since the brand has me curious as to what they come up with next. Proving to be a mega-trendsetter ever since its launch, Narciso for Her catapulted the market into a gene-pool sharing the same musks and "clean" synthesized patchouli bases shaped into the beautiful but traitorous dress of the "modern chypré"; in moments of truth and Sundays' waking up too late after a night partying next to delicious-looking strangers those scents shed that pretentious dress for the comfortable and more accurate flannel PJs of "woody florals with musks" and that's perfectly all right by me. But I digress... Luckily for all of us, the tremendous success of Narciso For Her didn't wind the Rodriguez brand into mechanically and pacingly launching myriads of "flankers"; with the exception of slight differences between the original range itself (eau de toilette vs eau de parfum vs parful roll-on vs Musk For Her oil) and the masculine counterpart issued one year ago, they have restrained themselves into an elegant rhythm which I respect.

Essence, Rodriguez's newest feminine fragrance, didn't grab me as much as Narciso For Her initially did, but that doesn't mean it is a bad fragrance; on the contrary it has a strangely insidious, undercurrent appeal of being made by very skilled hands who were given a not-too-precise-brief and although I am snobishly trying to write it off as repetitive and trite, I can't really. In Essence Rodriguez collaborated again with Beauté Prestige International, the Paris-based fragrance division of the Shiseido Cosmetics Corporation, aiming to capture a "sensual and luminous fragrance with a modern heart of musc enhanced by radiant notes of rose petals, powder notes of iris and hints of amber resulting in a floral, powdery musc fragrance". It doesn't sound terribly exciting, it utilizes the same well-known notes that Narciso Rodriguez obviously loves and I bet that the Spanish-born perfumer Alberto Morillas of Firmenich ~at once a classicist and a modernist and amazingly prolific in his almost 40-years-long career~ could have provided the formula with both hands tied behind his back and blindfolded at the drop of a hat! A recipient of numerous awards, among them the coveted Prix Francois Coty in 2003, Alberto Morillas is responsible for such bestsellers as Armani's Sensi and Aqua di Gio, Bulgari Blu, Omnia and Thé Blanc, Carolina Herrera Chic and 212, Cartier's Le Baiser du Dragon , M7 for YSL, Marc Jacobs Daisy and of course another huge influence on the market: Flower by Kenzo. The man knows how to attract the audience's loyalty, therefore enough said.

The overall effect of Narciso Rodriguez Essence is a clean unctuous almost soapy/aldehydic scent with classical mementos of White Linen minus some of the sharpness and Chanel No.5 minus the sweet florals or the skanky sexiness of lacy panties underneath prim suits, yet with an eerily reminiscent warm-skin-feel that the original Narciso for Her possessed as well. The clean musks featured, with their lathery bubbliness, have their lineage in Morillas's 212 and Daisy, while the powdery segment takes a page off Flower. Little development happens from the initial dryer-sheet sharply aliphatic and abstractly floral opening to the polite muskiness skin-like effect of probably Ambroxan*, (wishful-thinking) Muscenone** and Habanolide**. For what is worth the current modern white musk accord was first created by Alberto Morillas himself in Emporio Armani White for Her (combining Habanolide to Helvetolide**) and he used Muscenone in both Flower and Vanille 44 for niche brand Le Labo. The whole pared-down approach reminds me of the Escentric Molecules line. Although the powdery hazy effect is often attributed to iris, I do not detect any of its melancholic earthiness in the composition, same as with Infusion d'Iris by Prada which utilized a similar approach to the upscale-shampoo-latheriness vibe which seems to be all the rage now (judging by even such offerings as Chanel's Beige from Les Exclusifs). Luckily for the anosmiacs to Narciso For Her it seems to be rather different, enough to maybe give a jolt to their hypothalamus and be discernable to them.

Rodriguez wanted Essence to represent duality: "the intense and the ethereal, the simple and the complex" with an emphasis on "sun's purity" which reminds me of the "solar musks" accord of his first feminine perfume. I guess it's shorthand for "clean and warm" which Essence most certainly is. Lovers of that unperfume-y aspect as well as adventurers of all things delicately musky should flock to at least try it, the rest might find it non remarkable or even unpleasant in its screechy soapy tonalities which overstay their welcome impressively. It's pleasant enough for people into that genre, quite unisex and rather fun (for the price asked) to wear when that Sunday in flannels comes around once in a while, although not as enjoyably fulfilling as the original Narciso for Her is.

The bottle glows from within its mirrored core, round in its glass curvaceousness, created by noted industrial designer Ross Lovegrove (recipient of the prize Royal Designer for Industry in 2004 and art-exhibitor at MOMA and Guggenheim Museum in New York, the Centre Pompidou in Paris as well as the Design Museum in London). The eye-catching design is almost a futuristic, rounded interpretation of the original solid and austere Narciso For Her flacon.
The advertising campaign shot by the lens of Inez van Lamsweerde and Vinoodh Matadin
features supermodel Catherine MacNeil to whom Narciso "was drawn to instinctively".

Notes for Narciso Rodriguez Essence:
iris, rose, benzoin, modern musks


Narciso Rodriguez Essence is available in Eau de Parfum 50ml/1.7oz and 100ml/3.4oz exclusively at Saks Fifth Avenue from March and globally in April.
Ancilary products include a body lotion, a bath and shower cream and a deodorant spray.

Ad pic via fibre2fashion.com , soap courtesy of sassylicious.com.au

*Abroxan is a synthetic aromachemical mimicking the ambergris sensuous note.
**Muscenone, Habanolide, Helvetolide are gtrademark names for different varieties of synthetic musks.

Vega by Guerlain: fragrance review (vintage vs.re-issue)

Véga was originally created in the 1930's, in 1936 to be precise, by Jacques Guerlain. It was such a loaded year: the Berlin Olympics, the Nobel for Eugene O' Neil and cinematically speaking My man Godfrey with Carole Lombard who could wear this perfume effortlessly. The recreation was undertaken by Jean Paul Guerlain for the opening of the renovated Boutique Guerlain in 2005 and bears his mark alongside the well-known Guerlinade base. It entered the Legacy collection, known under the name Il était une fois (=once upon a time). Belonging to the family of aldehydic florals that first took off with the infamous introduction of Chanel No.5 in 1921 by Ernest Beaux, Véga has the fizzying, sparkling element of the aldehydic opening, that can sometimes smell waxy or even soapy.

Vega is such a beautiful name: being the brightest star in the α Lyra constellation and the 5th brightest star we can see in the sky, it has 58 times the brilliance of the sun, although scientists tell us that they are full of cosmic dust. The name however evokes luminosity and the perspective of cosmos: In 1936 Paris was indeed the capital of Light, the chic metropolis of every emerging trend, the place to be!

The original jazzy Véga in vintage Eau de Toilette traipses along the classic school of aldehydics with a luminous, expansive quality and softly powdery rosey and iris notes that support the warmth of sweet flowers ~notably the piecingly sweet ylang- ylang~ and the familiar vanillic touch of the Guerlinade base that takes a creamy nuance: the lustre of big pearls worn at the open neckline of a soft cloak under marcelled hair to go out for a night of folly.
Perhaps that aldehydic arpeggio is a nod to the take-off in Chanel's No.22 as well. The notes sing in a beautiful choral that hums melodiously.
According to toutenparfum in 1995 or 1997 according to other sources (later which would co-incide with the 1996 LVMH takeover and therefore seems more probable), Véga was briefly re-introduced and swiftly disappeared again. The bottle was short and cylindrical with a bulby cap, resembling the original inkwell flacon shown in the above vintage print ad.

In the 2005 re-issue of Véga those diffusive soapy-powdery notes are softened, to suit modern tastes who have arguably distanced themselves from the more perfume-y tastes of yore. However that is not to the detriment of the perfume at all. Rather it emphasises the rich floral heart while the two versions are not dramatically different. The ylang ylang is the predominant note in the new composition, a jasmine-like scented flower with a somewhat fruity aspect; jasmine and orange blossom come along too from the wings as supporting players. Véga also features fleur de cassie (acacia farnesiana) with its rich smell, like cat's paws immersed in milk, a whiff of heliotrope. Although iris and rosewood are listed, they were not to be found in the re-issue, at least not in the usual earthy version I come to witness in most true iris perfumes, like Luten's Iris Silver Mist or Hiris. That sweet floral heart in combination with the Guerlain vanillic warmth and the plush vetiver-amber base reminds me of the fond of Vol de Nuit and Shalimar at the same time without the smokey den ambienace of the vintage forms of the latter. That is to say Véga definitely has an animalic musky tonality in it that would potentially drive off people not attuned to full, hazy florals. It is not a perfume for shying violets!
Although the heart and base have elements of Chanel No.5, especially in its parfum version, Véga is at once less naughty and woodier. That darker, more serious element is a great attribute of the creation and although it is only an idea of darkness really, it still manages to make the perfume rise above merely pretty. Guerlain has always had an affinity for making likeable and wearable perfumes, often taking inspiration from other compositions and "making them laugh", like Jacques Guerlain did with Shalimar and Mitsouko (inspired in part by Coty Emeraude and Chypre respectively). Guerlain's other aldehydic floral from the period between the two World Wars, Liù, was another one inspired by Chanel No.5, but in comparison to Véga the latter seems soapier and more angular. They both have a bourgeois sensibility that makes for generally very "French"-smelling perfumes; at least in what is considered French in the collective unconscious, France being a vast country embracing many different cultural stimuli. This is the case here with Véga and this aldehydic may be a wonderful alternative for people who cannot enjoy Chanel No.5 or Arpège or even the fabulous Editions des parfums Frédéric Malle Iris Poudre.

The vintage parfum circulated in the inkwell-shaped bottle, while the Eau de Toilette is to be found in the large oval bottles (as depicted) on Ebay. There seemed to be also an Eau de Parfum version which however I have not tried yet. The 2005 re-issue of Véga is currently available exclusively at boutiques Guerlain and the Bergdorf Goodman's éspace Guerlain in Eau de Toilette in a 125ml splash cylindrical bottle tied with a gold thread on the neck and the Guerlain seal flat on the cap.


Notes for Véga:
Top: aldehydes, bergamot, orange blossom
Middle: jasmine, rose, ylang-ylang, fleur de cassie, rose, carnation, rosewood, iris
Bottom: sandalwood, amber, vanilla

Please read another review in French on Ambre Gris.

Pic of Vega ad courtesy of euart.com. Bottle pics through etna.borda.ru, Victoria's Own and mr.Guerlain (collector).

Liu by Guerlain: fragrance review (vintage vs re-issue)

The Princess Turandot presents her first riddle: "What is born each night and dies each dawn?" Prince Calàf correctly replies "Hope." Unnerved, she presents her second riddle: "What flickers red and warm like a flame, but is not fire?" He thinks a bit: "Blood". Turandot is shaken and angry so she presents her third riddle: "What is like ice, but burns like fire?" He suddenly cries out victoriously and announces "Turandot!"

Guerlain has often been inspired by dramatic stories and exotic places in the onomastics of their illustrious line and Liù takes its pride of place among them. Named after the heroine Liù in Puccini's opera Turandot, it's inspired by the juxtaposition of two different characters who make a jarring comparison: Princess Turandot is cold and cruel, elegant but prideful, not believing in love yet finally conquered by it; her maid Liù on the other hand is kind, pitiful and gentle but also passionate, and although she has true love in her heart for her lord, Prince Calàf, she willingly sacrifices herself for the sake of it. Connected by a man, they provide a stunning portrait of antithetical pieces of the same puzzle ~a women's heart and the passions that rock it. That duality of woman must have been a never-ending source of inspiration for Guerlain, as it is reprised in another fragrance: the 1979 fiery Nahéma (sisters with her opposite Mahané) from the 1001 Nights tale.

Originally created in 1929 by Jacques Guerlain, Liù is a floral aldehydic of tasteful elegance and delicately sensual seduction that puzzles with its impersonating skills. In many ways it acts as the mirror image of the world-famous No.5 by Chanel, but with an added sheen of warm comfort and minus some of the sexpot wiles of the latter. One story wants it to have been created for Rose Fitzerald Kennedy who loved the smell of Chanel's No.5, yet considered wearing it an anathema due to her husband having had an affair with Gabrielle Chanel (although it's his affair with Gloria Swanson during his Hollywood reign between 1926-1929 that is documented). Therefore Guerlain was contacted and they made a fragrance inspired by her prefered scent especially for her. The fact is that Rose kept her favourite fragrance a secret all her life; it was only after her death that it was revealed it was her signature scent. Another story , perhaps more plausible and comparable to that of Chant d’Arômes, has Jacques Guerlain furious at his wife liking and wearing the fragrance of the rival house, Chanel No.5, prompting him in hopes of diverting her from wearing the products of his competitors to create his own interpretation of aldehydes over white flowers on a musky base ~Liù, poured inside an Art-Deco bottle, a masterpiece of geometric artistry, tucked in a box that echoed the architectural design of the bottle.

Whichever of those versions is correct, the fact remains that the two perfumes smell remarkably close, especially in their initial stages. The aldehydes that provide that tingling and soapy/waxy impression are immediately apparent along with a very fresh bergamot and citrusy overture. The fragrance then segues into plush decedent jasmine of an intense femininity. Once it settles on skin however, Liù becomes its own. Musk or sandalwood are not unmistakably obvious as they are in No.5. Rose is very much woven into the fabric of the scent to peak out just enough; it only hints at the velours, sensuously powdery quality which is intensified through the iris and vanillic notes. This version of powdery is detached from the talcum-animalic-vanilla of vintage Shalimar and is more reminiscent of a gentle lady who has freshly powdered her nose to enjoy an afternoon tea with other ladies in the Club, surrounded by bushes in fragrant bloom. There is also the hint of some dried fruit, a whisper in the wind, the culinary touch that is so ingrained in the Guerlain tradition. The Guerlinade base reveals subtly earthy iris, comforting tonka bean and resinous vanilla, finishing it off in a soft-focus lens style that is timelessly elegant while at the same time very much in tempo with the era when aldehydic florals reigned: the 1950s and 1960s. The whole is even close to another Jacques Guerlain creation of the 1930s, Véga, but it's less woody or unconventionaly feminine than the latter.

In the vintage extrait de parfum concentration I have deliciously melding on my skin the darkish vanilla softens the aldehydes, rendering it quite sultry and not too sweet or soapy. Once upon a time, even a luxurious Hair Oil existed which must have been the dream of many a long-tressed lady such as myself and I would love to have been able to try it. In the Eau de Toilette on the other hand the aldehydes are more pronounced, making it more diffusive. In the current Eau de Parfum the similarity with the newer batches of Chanel No.5 are very evident, accounting for a soapy nuance which projects and lasts very well.

Notes for Liù:
Top: aldehydes, bergamot, neroli
Heart: jasmine, May rose, iris
Base: woody notes, vanilla, amber

Liù was discontinued after Rose Kennedy's death and briefly reissued in 2005 by Jean Paul Guerlain in the Eau de Toilette concentration only, and then discontinued again with no explanation. Soon afterwards however it entered Les Parisiennes line, the exclusive line-up at Boutique Guerlain, in Eau de Parfum concentration and double the price, where it remains to this day (hopefully for good!). The re-issue of Liù in Eau de Parfum can be found in the big bee bottles at the Guerlain boutiques and at Bergdorf Goodman. The vintage parfum makes sporadic appearences on Ebay.

Pictures courtesy of Okadi, La Myrrhe, Sarah's Perfumes and Ebay.

Chant d'Aromes by Guerlain: fragrance review

As I lay my hands on the black and ivory keyboard of my Pleyel, fingering Le Lac de Côme, I can't but feel the optimism and bright sunshine of a summer's day that Chant d’Arômes by Guerlain evokes in me as well. One of the lesser known Guerlains, it is akin to an innocent young love that is blossoming into the happiness of womanhood. This summer I happily rediscovered this old flame of mine and have been enjoying its tender peachiness and delicate, caressing powderiness anew.

Chant d’Arômes was created in 1962 by young Jean Paul Guerlain for his future wife, who was so loyal to her favorite Ma Griffe by Carven that she didn't wear any of the fragrances of the house her fiancé was about to inherit! In a getting even roundabout way, Jean Paul created this peachy, lactonic, floral chypre to lure her into wearing a Guerlain and thus made his first foray into the illustrious line of creations of the historical house.
Erroneously translated as "Language of Flowers" sometimes, its French name in fact has the elegiac meaning of "Song of Aromas" which beautifully echoes its oneiric musical cadenzas.

The translucent opening of Chant d’Arômes ~with what seems like a dash of mandarin~ is not unlike the older version of Ma Griffe which was much brighter due to lots of bergamot and aldehydes or Chanel No.22 with its incense touch, lending a sparkling and intriguing character to the composition. It very soon melts into the embrace of the undecalactone of peach skin ~soft, fuzzy and completely mesmerising; tender like the hand of a mother, loving like the gaze of a lover in the first throes of romance. The flowers are all subdued and well blended into a medley of harmonious arpeggios, revealing little hints of this or that at the most unexpected turns, never heady, never loud. Through it all, there sings the brassy contralto of cinnamon, accountable to benzoin, but also reminiscent of the styrax ambience of vintage Ma Griffe's drydown. You would be hard pressed to distinguish any single ingredient as they all sing together with the smoothness of a choir performing Pachelbel's Canon in D; optimistic, lightly sweet, but with the slightest mossy autumnal background, a debt to the unsurpassable Vol de Nuit.
And yet 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.



According to Luca Turin in Perfumes, the Guide, it got reformulated in the early 90s to an aldehydic floral of less distinguished nuances, but it has reverted to almost full its peachy glory in 2007 in the famous bee bottles.
Extrait de Parfum was discontinued at one point but is now available at the Paris flagship boutique in Les Parisiennes line; worth pursueing for those who find that the Eau de Toilette lacks the desired staying power.
I have found that the latter performs much better in the sunny and warm weather it naturally evokes, rather than the colder days of the year, and it never fails to put me in a bright and happy mood no matter what might have intervened.

Notes:
top: mirabelle, gardenia, aldehydes, fruits
heart: rose, jasmine, honeysuckle, ylang-ylang
base: benzoin, musk, vetiver, heliotrope, moss, olibanum

Clip "Le Lac de Come" by C.Galos, Op.24, originally uploaded by PSearPianist on Youtube. Pic originally uploaded by MizLiz211 on MUA.

Patou Ma Collection: part 6 ~Colony, L'Heure Attendue, Caline reviews

“The exotic image of the deepest jungle, lush vegetation, powerful spices borne over amethyst seas and strange girls in distant sun-kissed ports.” Thus is described Colony in the booklet which accompanies Patou’s Ma Collection.

In 1938, amid the threat of impending war, Jean Patou chose Colony to evoke the tropics and to suggest a carefree, more prosperous time. A fetid and round fruity chypre, Patou’s Colony is comprised of succulent and non-sweet pineapple as well as heady ylang ylang from Nossi-Be starting on an almost herbal, boozy accord pinching your nose, which needs humidity and the warmth of skin to open up. Under the thick netting covering fruits one can feel unfolding earthy tonalities juxtaposed with what seems like leather and musk in a game of chiaroscuro.

The languorous Colony prowls like Lauren Bacall did in "To Have and Have Not", as Marie "Slim" Browning, a resistance sympathizer and a sassy singer in a Martinique club; the perfect “strange girl in distant sun-kissed ports”. Curvaceous clothes cinched at the waist hold her graceful gazelle form as she leans her long neck to give a sideways aloof look at those who catch her attention.
And she knows full well how to entice Steve: “You know you don't have to act with me, Steve. You don't have to say anything, and you don't have to do anything. Not a thing. Oh, maybe just whistle. You know how to whistle, don't you, Steve? You just put your lips together and... blow”.



Colony by Patou possesses that same husky and nostalgic voice which beckons you to whistle invitingly.
Notes for Colony: fruits, pineapple, ylang ylang, iris, carnation, oakmoss, vetiver and spices.

On the other hand, L'heure Attendue is more like the wistful Ilsa played by Ingrid Bergman in "Casablanca". When the Nazi occupation of Paris came indeed at an end, Jean Patou celebrated with “the longed-for hour”, L’heure Attendue; a soft, rather sweet, powdery and woody perfume with creamy taste, embodying elegance, restraint and dutiful sacrifice; it speaks in the melodious tones of a warm-hearted woman.

With shades of Almeras's style in the heart, L'Heure Attendue is sober yet sparkling, all big expressive eyes, smiling yet with a melancholy of realising what all this entailed. The flowers, interweaved into an inseparable posy, are creamy and tender unfolding into a spicy/woodsy drydown which epitomizes classic elegance. One can imagine it worn with the perfect classic tailleur or trench coat, a broad-brimmed hat perched on smooth hair atop softly arched eyebrows. Inside its core a warm, loving heart will forever be pulsating in the beat of happy days spent in Paris.

Notes for L’Heure Attendue: lily of the valley, geranium, lilac; ylang-ylang, jasmine, rose, opopanax; Mysore sandalwood, vanilla, patchouli.

Câline, composed by then in-house perfumer Henri Giboulet, was released by Jean Patou in 1964 as “the first perfume dedicated to teenage girls”. Which means it is unfathomable on anyone who is considered so today! This unblushing aphorism might provoke a flood of inner dialogue in which two sides of consience passionately argue about older and younger mores and how times have irrevocably changed. But the epoch from which Câline hails was by all accounts the era in which young girls aspired to become mature ladies pretty soon, not pigtailed 50-year-olds who carry Hello Kitty bags. There was validation in becoming a grown-up, an antithetical mood to the hysteria of the youth cult which catapulted itself into our consiousness after the 60s. There was nothing apologetic about being older, like there wasn’t either about being younger. Angst and ennui were notions that were just beginning to morph in a world which had healed at long last its WWII scars and envisioned a prosperous future full of the latest technological advancements.

The greenly fresh aldehydic sophistication and malleable primness of Patou’s Câline remind me of Audrey Hepburn in Sabrina, after her European trip in which she becomes a proper “lady”, almost unrecognizable to those who knew her as merely the chauffer’s daughter to the rich family. That je ne sais quoi, which her stay in Paris to amend her broken heart polished her with, is reflected in the refined and discreet trail that Câline leaves behind like a reminder of decorum; or the murmur of enchanting and yet bounded femininity expressed in shadowy iris and insouciant orange blossom, underscored by earthy mossy tones which simultaneously recall shades of Ma Griffe and Ivoire. The piquancy of a basil spicy-like note along with coriander put the finishing touch in its image: It’s poised, ladylike in her kitten-heels and too eager to don the classic pearl necklace with a desire that borders on the ironically saucy.

Not to be confused with Gres Caline from 2005 (nor its flankers, Caline Night and Caline Sweet Appeal)

Notes for Câline: green citrus, spices, jasmin, ylang-ylang, cedarwood, moss, musk.

Clip originally uploaded by zegoar on Youtube. Lauren Bacall and Casablanca pic via Wikipedia. Audrey Hepburn pic via Audrey1. Bottle pics courtesy of Basenotes.

The Spy who Came In from the Cold ~Rive Gauche by Saint Laurent: fragrance review

“What KGB agents would have worn to seduce James Bond”* is not a bad description for any fragrance. But when it applies to an Yves Saint Laurent one you know it has the pedigree and the icy demeanor of Daniela Bianchi in From Russia with Love. Ian Flemming was no shrinking violet when it came to assigning fragrances to his literary heroines, starting with Vent Vert{1} and Guerlain’s Ode{2} and progressing to Chanel No.5{3} and Caron’s Muguet{4}. It would be intriguing to imagine Rive Gauche among the arsenal of his femmes exceptionelles!

Rive Gauche came out in 1971, aimed as the griffe of Laurent’s ready-to-wear line by the same name, meaning “left bank”. Left of the Seine of course, the place of abode for young bohemians and artists at the time. Created by Jacques Polge when his Chanel in-house position was perhaps but a distant dream (Henri Robert was composing the fragrances of Chanel at the time, specifically No.19) Rive Gauche was directly influenced by the ground-breaking Calandre (1969) by Paco Rabanne (which took its name from a car’s radiator grill in French breaking ties with romantic traditions). Like its predecessor it was a modern take on aldehydic fragrances. Contrary to the take-off note of aldehydes in Chanel No.22, where they shine with all the might of a soprano coloratura to extreme sweetness, in Rive Gauche, as well as in Calandre, the aldehydic hit upon spraying is snowy-cold, drier and with all the paradox of the Brave New World ahead: the two fragrances share a metallic rose of frosty petals that tingles the nose rendering that most romantic of blossoms into a hologram of a flower, underscored with the touch of green powder in the form of cool iris and vetiver, the enigma of the spy who came in from the cold.

Aimed at the young, Rive Gauche projected the audacious profile of a chic woman always dressed in electric blue like the silver-banded canister itself. One who flirts freely with a touch of bravado. Yet the fragrance now seems a little caught in the whirlwind of its era although its appeal never fades: it smells classy, not raunchy; mysteriously blue floral, yet non romantic English bone-china-pattern-style ~it’s flinty! And its amazingly salient characteristic is smelling fabulous on just about anyone: any difference of opinion is accountable down to perception and personal taste.

Rive Gauche for Women was savagely altered in a reformulation during the Tom Ford tenure as artistic director of Yves Saint Laurent, with some difference in packaging. A men’s version was introduced in 2003 (in my opinion redundant as the feminine could be worn by a man of confidence), a “formule Intense” which reportedly is closer to the original and thus worth testing if you have fond memories of the latter. The 2004 Rive Gauche Light for women is but a pale shadow of itself, while the non-alcoholic Rive Gauche Fraîcheur from 1995 is a hazy watercolor interpretation that I am sad to report is terribly fleeting.

Notes:Aldehydes, leaf note, galbanum, gardenia, narcissus, jasmine, rose, orris, honeysuckle, sandalwood, oakmoss, vetiver, tonka bean.

Ref:
*Susan Irvine in "The Perfume Guide".
{1: in Live and Let Die, Goldfinger}
{2: in On Her Majesty’s Secret Service}
{3: in The Man with the Golden Gun}
{4: in Goldfinger}

Pic of Bjork by Jean Baptiste Mondino courtesy of MondinoUpdate.net. Pic of Rive Gauche ad courtesy of parfumdepub.

Who's the Chypriest of Them All? ~Y by Saint Laurent: fragrance review

I can recall down to the minute when I became entangled into Yves Saint Laurent’s vision. It was even before I saw his amazing couture on Betty Catroux and Talitha Getty in the photos of the glossy magazines that my mother used to buy and cut out clippings of when she deemed beautiful; and before I leafed through my father’s art-books with the colorful, geometrical Mondrian and trapezoid Braque paintings.

Specifically the trigger had been an olfactory one: stepping into a taxi out of which a woman wearing Opium had just left. My puerile ears had the good fortune of catching the driver’s phrase “My God, this Opium scent is everywhere and it’s so strong!” My mother nodded her beautiful head in silent demi-assent as she always did when she was too polite to disagree or further an argument. Myself I was not yet capable of discerning nuances of speech so as to differentiate a positive from a negative one. I only seem to recall that that was the most exquisite scent I had ever smelled, I was straining to absorb every single molecule I could attach to my nostrils’ Velcro and I was already seriously longing for it as soon as I stepped out of that taxi. I can’t really recall where we were going, whether our purpose was a practical or social one or what we were wearing or how the driver looked like. My memory obliterated all those things, choosing to cherish only the precious memento of first smelling Opium off the sillage of a complete stranger. Such is the power of fragrance!
It haunted me for years and as soon as I had pocket money or could request gifts of beauty I knew what my little heart desired: the forbidden elixir encased in the cinnabar bottle with the black tassel. Other perfumes came and went and I amassed whatever I could lay my hands on, but Yves Saint Laurent became my first fashion icon through Opium.

Blossoming into a woman I personally discovered other creations of his, which brightened my life with their beauty and style. One of them was Y, his first fragrance for women. Named after his initial, I imagine it also allied to the French pronoun for “there”, since it is definitely very much there: it imposed its presence with elegance and the endurance of a true classic.
Y was issued in 1964 (2 years after Yves's first YSL collection) and was composed by nose Jean Amic in a beautiful, solid, architectural bottle designed by Pierre Dinard.

Exactly two years before Yves was rocking the catwalks with the Norman Smock, a garment debuting more than 1,000 years ago but serving as an inspiration for YSL peasant-looking shirts, Russian tunics, Chinese coats, boho artist's jacket, or even the jacket of a gabardine pantsuit over the years: Yves was already doing what he considered style ~the reference that provides a solidarity to one’s wardrobe away from the dictations of currency. Clothes should be made to last and speak through the years.
Much like his fluid fashions of 1964, with languorous gowns, gracious pantsuits and flowing tunics that draped curves rather than suppressed them, Y the fragrance became the emblem of la maison Laurent: flamboyant if you look at the prism from an angle that the sun catches it producing a vivid rainbow on the wall, restrained if you look at it from an angle where it shines with the natural incandescence of clear crystal.

In many ways Y was a departure from the prim and tasteful aldehydic fragrances of the times such as Le Dix or Madame Rochas, proposing a greener, more subversive, emancipated chypre that would herald the onset of the powerful chypres of the 70s. And yet it did so with elegance, without the shock value of Bandit or the intensity of Aromatics Elixir, yet without betraying the bedrock of the genre’s character. “Which is the chypriest of them all?” And possibly the chirpiest…
Y took the powdery aldehydic notes of previous beauties and gave them a retouch of bluish grey dense brushstrokes of shadow-y depth that mollify the sparkling honeysuckle and the heady hyacinth heart into something that approximates Marc Franz paintings: the striking and angular happily coexist with the curvaceous. Above all, Y highlights oakmoss in perhaps the last composition –up to the time of writing- to retain some semblance of fidelity to the rotting frisée of the parasitic lichen that laces itself upon the mighty oak. Its animalic but classy echo is heard through the urban forests to the pursuit of discerning suitors.
If you have loved Ma Griffe for its spicy emerald song, Chanel No.19 for its audacious herbal iris, the vintage Miss Dior for its naughty seduction under wraps and 31 Rue Cambon as a bastard descendant of the greats who pays a visit when the need strikes and you haven’t tested Y by Yves Saint Laurent yet, serious amiss should be amended before it is utterly ruined.

Notes:
Top: aldehydes, peach, gardenia, mirabelle and honey suckle.
Middle: Bulgarian rose, jasmine, tuberose, ylang ylang, orris and hyacinth.
Base: oak moss, amber, patchouli, sandalwood, vetiver, civet, benzoin and styrax.

Y by Yves Saint Laurent is easily available at department stores and online.

Update on reformulation: the newest Eau de toilette bottles have a gold cap and the Y straight up and down versus a white cap and an italicised Y for the older ones. The name on the bottom of the bottle is Sanofi Beaute for the older ones, the group that YSL Parfums joined in 1993. Sanofi Beaute however was acquired by Gucci Group in 1999 and Yves Saint Laurent has been recently acquired by L'oreal, heralding further tampering with the formula.

Pics provided by "Armanis", posted in fond admiration

Chypre series 2: Ingredients

Perfume lovers are well aware of the fact that "notes" in perfume denote only the feel that certain ingredients emote and not necessarily the exact ingredients that go into the composition of the final product. Such is the case with chypre perfumes as well.
Although we described the traditional elements inherent to the tradition of chypre perfumes in the previous article in the series, this serves only as a guidance to constituents playing a greater or smaller part in the art of composing. Each variant highlights a slightly different note or places emphasis on something that distinguishes it from other members of its class.

Modern synthetic aromachemicals also play a part in this process. The conventional notes of bergamot, oakmoss, civet, rose, neroli, vetiver, angelica, sandalwood and the herbal touches of thyme, tarragon and basil are joined thus by linalyl acetate, amyl salicylate and the characteristic note of safrole or isosafrole. The latter is a composition of the German firm Heine, circulating under the name Product EM.
This note has been called the very thing that assures the perfume's success and it is based on oakmoss, labdanum, liquidambar, linalyl acetate and possibly several floral essences that give that special abstract florancy characteristic to chypre compositions.

Although most people marginally into perfume tend to view chypres as the equivalent of a J.S.Bach fugue, all complicated themes recurring as the perfume evolves on the skin making for a formula that is highly sophisticated and which demands originality and expert handling from the perfumer, it has been proposed that in fact the contrary is much more the case.

The formula of a chypre is strict and allows less of a leeway for producing something that would risk being an abject failure, so a lack of imagination might be attributed to houses that might bring out new perfumes in the genre falling back on what is more or less a "safe bet". This is what prompted Maurice Chevron to remark: "It is simply beef stake". The culinary comment denoting that it is something standard, proper, always good with whatever twist you make it.

Chypre perfumes according to the elements that they highlight are classified into subcategories, named after the element they bring into the flesh on the classic chypre skeleton.
Therefore according to the French Society of Perfumers the basic subcategories are:
Floral chypre
Floral aldehydic chypre
Green chypre
Fruity chypre
Aromatic chypre
Leathery chypre

Another category, termed "coniferous chypre" might be included, encompassing heavier use of resins. And one might argue that leather/cuir is a category on its own (which it is), leaving legends such as Bandit by Piguet, Cabochard by Gres or Cuir de Russie by Chanel into a chypre limbo. For the purposes of this series, we will give those leathery compositions permission to rest into chypre heaven and play the harp to the skies. Or hell, in select cases...

To understand what goes into the production of each category one might glimpse the lists stated in professional handbooks. I therefore present you with some examples from an older textbook on the subject.
In the interests of journalistic ethics/deontology the exact measurements have been ommitted in the following breakdowns.

The ingredients below form the body of an aldehydic chypre (the name of aromachemical company that produces the ingredient in parenthesis):

Rose No.1
Ysminia (Firmenich)
Jasmin absolute
Oakmoss absolute superessence, Yugoslav (Schmoller)
Bergamot oil
Oakmoss absolute (Camilli)
Jasmin No.1
Geranium sur rose oil
Methyl ionone
Vetiver oil
Sandalwool oil
Linalool ex bois de rose
Dianthine (Firmenich)
Eugenol
Hydroxycitronellal
Gardenia 9058 (Givaudan)
Costus absolute 10%
Mace oil
Florizia (Firmenich)
Tincture of Musk, 3%
Tincute of Civet, 3%
Musk ambrette
Musk ketone
Coumarin
Vanillin
Aldehyde C.10, 1%
Aldehyde C.11 (undecyclenic) 1%
Aldehyde C.12 (MNA) 10%


Another characteristic chypre base contains the following:

Coumarin
Vanillin
Ethyl vanillin
Heliotropin
Methyl ionone
Musk ketone
Rose H
Orange oil, bitter, Guinea
Geraniol extra
Bois de Rhodes oil (Chiris-UOP)
Noisette (de Laire)
Sandalwood oil
Benzoin Supergomodor (Chiris-UOP)
Liquidambar II
Labdanum Clair (Lautier)
Linalool ex bois de rose Cayenne
Linalyl acetate ex bois de rose
Terpinyl acetate
Benzyl acetate
Vetiver acetate
Estragon (tarragon) oil 5%
isoButylquinolin 5%
Ysminia (Firmenich)
Bergamot oil, sesquiterpeneless
Bergamot oil

And here there is a distinctively 'animal' note in a chypre base.

Oakmoss absolute hyperessence (Charabot)
Jasmin absolute
Musc VH (Ets. Hasslauer) 10%
Musc baume epure (Payan & Bertrand)10%
Ambergris tincture
Civet tincture
Musk ketone
alpha-Methyl ionone
Sandalwood oil
Vetiver oil
Bergamot oil
Rose No.3
Bouvardia CNC (Firmenich)
Carrot Clair (Lautier) 10%
Celery Clair (Lautier) 10%
Tobacco W (I.F.F.)
Aldehyde C.11 (undecylenic) 10%
Cyclopentadecanolide 1%
Orange oil superdèterpenèe (Charabot)
Celery seed oil
Angelica root oil

This formula is for a modified chypre perfume with a peach top note. Does this remind you of anything?


Ysminia (Firmenich)
Wardia (Firmenich)
Benzyl acetate
Orange oil, sweet
Jasmin absolute
Vetiveryl acetate
Cedryl acetate (Givaudan)
Sandalwood oil (Mysore)
Lavender oil, Barrême 42% esters
isoEugenol
Amyl salicylate
Bergamot oil
Lemon oil, Guinea
Methyl ionone
Ylang-ylang oil
Oakmoss decolorèe (Robertet)
Patchouli oil
Petitgrain oil, paraguay
Indole
Citral
Aurantiol
Dimethyl benzyl carbinol
Hydroxycitronellal
I-citronellol
Geranium extra
Fennel oil
Black pepper oil
Coumarin
Musk ketone
Civettone
Ambrettozone (Haarmann & Reimer)
Ambrarome Absolute (Synarome)
Clove bud oil
Aldehyde (pseudo) C.18, 10%
Aldehyde (pseudo) C.16, 10%
Aldehyde C.14 ('peach'), 10%

Of course there are several restrictions on ingredients, both natural and synthetic, some caused by concerns on their allergenic nature or possibility for producing a hives reaction on certain skins. Eugenol, coumarin, geraniol to name but a few are clearly stated in the ingredients on the package by law. Some others have even been linked to cancers, such as musk ketone, and therefore heavily axed.
And of course there have been several others that have been cut out simply due to unavailability, ethics or extreme cost, such as natural animalic notes in the vein of castoreum, civet, deer musk and natural ambergris.

The most controversial though has been oakmoss, a natural tree lichen that grows on oak trees and which forms the backbone of a traditional chypre. For more in depth info on this ingredient and the controversy it has spawned recently due to the IFRA guidelines for the production of perfume as well as the EU laws, I guide you to my previous article, on which Luca Turin had the good grace to comment on.
You can access it by clicking here.



Next installement will occupy itself with another interesting aspect of chypre perfumery.

Top pic sent to me by mail unaccredited, second pic courtesy of athinorama.gr

Detchema by Revillon: fragrance review

If you have ever been wondering what lost innocence is made of, look no further than Roman Polanski’s 1968 Rosemary's Baby film classic and the floral romantic trail that accompanied the sweet and tender young protagonist Mia Farrow: Detchema by Revillon. Of course if you peeked a bit at Milton you wouldn’t be far off either, but I leave that for another post with more profound existentialist tendencies.
In the film of which a little glimpse you can catch clicking here Mia Farrow is destined to be the mother of the devil’s child, married to what seems like a great guy (played by John Cassavetes) who belongs to a sect of Satan worshipers, intent on bringing their devious plans about domination to fruition through the means of a Madonna in reverse. Everything seems normal on the surface, while deep down the ploy is getting on very well and no one suspects a thing until…..
The crucial toll of the bell comes too late for poor Mia who is hypnotized by all sorts of devious people into believing they’re all catering for her own good, hers and the child’s. Little does she know….or indeed do we all.

So her scent of choice is not far off: Detchema is indeed a gentle unassuming, powdery aldehydic floral of the 50s, introduced in 1953, a time when the ladylike florals and chypres reigned supreme.
Detchema took the theme of the aldehydic floral with a lactonic tenderness interwoven and got it to new heights along with Le Dix de Balenciaga. Less sensual than Chanel no.5, the iconic prototype of the aldehydic fragrance and somehow a bit more soapy (well, acrually quite a bit) than the gorgeous Le Dix, it still possessed professionalism and clean cut, ladylike images to recommend it. It projects a freshness of someone soignée and decked out in everyday chic the way they did it the old days.
It could also be likened to effect that the soapy Nocturnes or the tender Fleurs de Rocaille by Caron have on the psyche: instant transport into a different world.
Of course for those exact reasons it cannot claim any great demands on originality and innovation. She is one of the entourage, never the shinning star of the marquise, yet for what it is it is quite fetching.

All through the 60s and 70s this little gem had been revered and worn with pride by women while the bursting into scene of the orientals with a vengeance after the introduction of the mighty Opium in 1977 signaled the death toll. It never disappeared yet the reformulation during the 90s was inevitable to survive in a market where the vintage has been deemed old-fashioned and passé. And perhaps it is. Yet the lingering halo of innocence and timeless elegance this fragrance imparts to the wearer is reminding us of the youthful physique of Mia Farrow in this film, traipsing along New York, trapped inside the Dakota building.

The sweet armloads of ylang ylang with discernible hyacinth and the warmth of a little carnation get the treatment of a lovely and fresh peach note that along with neroli raises this into the territory of eternal sunshine. Yet the peach never becomes too pronounced, while the burst of putting this onto skin is akin to a refreshing mist on a body that is full of activity and life.
Powdered orris and tonka provide the tender drop on which the whole rests like the clean sheets of the bed on which Mia conceives baby Satan. Thanks to the inclusion of some earthy notes the whole never veers into too sweet avenues, remaining beautifully balanced.

The eau de toilette is especially powdery in the vintage while the parfum/extrait is the superior form with a smoothness that is precise and clear. The choice of Eau de parfum whom was a lucky inclusion in a package by a Canadian friend (to which I am grateful) is a happy medium and it will satisfy those who seek an insistent sillage eminently. It also lasts amazingly well. The vintage comes in a black box with gold filigree which is again fitting the visual reference I picked for it and it would be recommended to track it down in that form, although the new one is not badly made either.
Wear it and be prepared to lose your marbles. Or keep them if you’re smart enough.

Official fragrance notes: Peach, Neroli, Hyacinth, Bergamot, Ylang-Ylang, Jasmine, Carnation, Lily of the valley, Orris, Sandal, Vetiver, and Tonka.

Bottles of Detchema are on FragranceX and the Perfume House of Portland (taking mail orders)
Pic of the bottle courtesy of fragrancex, clip from youtube, song "Evil" by Interpol

A re-orchestration: Baghari by Piguet, fragrance review and comparison

Reformulation seems to be the new name du jour for perfume companies. They sometimes miss terribly (Dioressence) while sometimes they invent something amazing (Femme). Baghari by Piguet seems to stand at the middle, being neither atrocious or disloyal to the original, nor the innovative masterpiece that could be the be all and end all. Taking that into account however it stands as a perfectly lovely little aldehydic floral that is sure to be enjoyed by lots of people. Not what one expects from the house of Piguet, who has churned out such controversial fumes as the lethal white femme of Fracas and the leathered dominatrix rolled in grass of Bandit.

The original, now vintage, Baghari was created in 1950 by Francis Fabron, creator of Nina Ricci L’Air du Temps (1948), Balenciaga Le Dix (1947) and Givenchy L’Interdit (1957). This venerable french "nose" composed elegant scents with polished and powdery notes echoing an aura of romanticism and the feel of the feminine New Look that had been introduced just 3 years prior by Christian Dior. The vogue became one of feminity packaged as a lady who lunches discreetly with crinoline skirts a little below the knee, cinched waists, little hats and gloves for all occasions. Baghari was marketed in 1950 as a discreet and fresh fragrance for a young lady, but of course perceptions have changed so much (not to mention fashion trends) that it is impossible to imagine what the audience of BlackEyed Peas or the consumers of Miami Glow might find elegant anymore. Nevertheless, this is not an affirmation written in an attempt to look down on our day and age as is so prevalent among perfume boards, blogs and articles. Our age has also got its classics (Narciso for its loveliness, Angel for its innovation, Voleur de Roses for its unusual mix of rose and patchouli and a few others). Their time of reverence will come...

Not to divert from the point however, the new Baghari is a playful spin on the original. It was reorchestrated in 2006 by Aurélien Guichard of Givaudan, famous for his acclaimed Bond no.9Chinatown. The main difference with the vintage is in the top notes and less at the base. The stark glaring white aldehyde of the original is replaced in part with sweeter notes, encompasing a little violet, a note which is witnessing a rebirth this year after eons of exile in the darkest corners of the perfume hall of fame. On a blotter it has a slightly spicy note that is deceptive. It really properly blooms only on the skin.

The notes for the original are: aldehydes, bergamot, orange blossom, lemon, rose, lilac, ylang-ylang, lily of the valley, jasmine, Bourbon vetiver, benzoin, musk, amber, vanilla.
In contrast the new one has: bergamot, neroli, aldehydes, violet, jasmine, orange blossom, rose Damascena, rose Centifolia, iris, vetiver, amber, musk, vanilla.

As the new Baghari unfolds its secrets there is a clean, almost soapy smell that is very becoming, like crispy linen on a laundry day, starched collars and preppy shirts laid out on the bed for inspection before donning them. It then sweetness considerably with the full revelation of the jasmine and orange blossom heart. The dance of rose with jasmine and violet is never ending, going on and on and on, into the territory of romantic and old-fashioned elegance of wisps of satin petticoats underneath. This is most definitely a floral for soft personalities, a little shy perhaps, a little wistful. There is a silent lucidity about it, that resembles a piece by Debussy. Full of emotion that is expressed in a tender and innocent, shining way; shielding our core and our memories from the ravages of the mundane, affording us a slow drive to sunny gardens.
The woodiness of the base has a hefty dose of powdery iris, a very expensive ingredient, lending an earthy dry afterfeel that lingers like the memory of a kiss on one's flesh, a skin-like aroma that seals the deal and makes this one reformulation worthy of its launch.
The comparison with Chanel #5, Le Dix by Balenciaga, Guerlain's Vega or Liu is not far off and indeed somehow Baghari seems a little redundant to me, since I already own Chanel #5 in parfum/extrait, which is a little muskier and woodier than this one, making it more seductive and secretive in my mind. But that's not to mean that the new Baghari isn't a lovely scent.

It can be had in a bottle of 50ml/1.7oz of Eau de Parfum at Bergdorf Goodman, Neiman Marcus, Harvey Nichols (UK) and Les printemps (France).

Pic courtesy of touteenparfum.

Maquillage: the sweet scent of makeup

It’s always so gratifying to get samples from less known perfumers who put their heart into their perfume instead of marketing analysis and assorted research and development findings. Such is the case with Maquillage, the very likeable scent by amateur perfumer Armando Martinez. Over the few months I have been writing my blog, people have been asking me to review perfumes for their reading enjoyment, reviews that maybe they wouldn't see in any other perfume blog in some cases as the perfumes were not known and the sources were obscure and did not list notes. It has been my joy and pride to do so for them. This however is not such a case. In fact I was the one who asked tentatively if I could sample this perfume when I heard about it and Armando obligingly sent a sample along.

Armando has been dabbling with oils and essences and some synthetic aromatic materials as a hobby for a long time, being interested in the magical world of perfume for years. The scented memories of his life have been fodder for his experiments and his love for the vintage masterpieces of yesterday such as My Sin, Scandal, Tabac Blond or Shocking de Schiaparelli has not been eclipsed by his ardent love for all things nouveau niche such as Lutens’ Ambre Sultan, Chergui or Bond no.9 New Haarlem.

His fragrance for women was baptized Maquillage from the French word for makeup and is redolent of his love for perfume in general. In an early first effort that was a homage to Jean Paul Gaultier's Classique, sweet scent of femininty trapped in the torso bottle that has in turn been inspired in looks by Shocking, Armando has captured the essence of a lady’s makeup paraphernalia and more prominently the aroma of face powder and satin cream lipstick in old bullet-style packaging. Oh, so elegant and glamorous, the times of bygones brought back with a nonchalant flick of the puff.

As I picked up the little bottle with the clear and oily liquid sample of the perfume my mind strayed into the avenue of a reminiscence of my own. I thought about the glamour of my grandmother’s trousse de toilette, all gold gilded bottles, often brought back from Paris. This was one hell of a glamorous grandma who used to order her clothes to the best tailors in town and her evening gowns to French ateliers, lavishing Madame Rochas and Miss Dior parfum with elegant gusto on her unstoppable person.

Maquillage would fit such a person. It begins its soft glamorous and nostalgic journey on a very soft, citrusy, bright and lightly sweet rose and honey note that is soon aligned to the candied scent of violet. Such a combination has a very feminine and cuddly smell, redolent of the mood that L’artisan’s Drole de Rose recalls. Frederic Malle’s Lipstick Rose is another rose-violet combo that could be referenced, and yet, Maquillage is not as sweet neither is it as penetrating making it infinitely more wearable in my opinion (because I prefer more subtle florals); although its great flaw is the lack of staying power compared with the monstrous tenacity of Lipstick Rose. The fact that Maquillage has a slightly oily texture indicates that it is not a lack of the proper aromatic materials, as I generally perceive this as a good sign, but maybe a matter of dilution which needs to be lower.
The drydown phase after about 20 minutes on my skin is a very soft musky powdery affair of the amorous pairing of iris and musk of a synthetic nature that warms up the whole, making it soft and pretty, with the merest touch of vanillic nature, just enough to render it charming and winsome.

The official notes are: lemon, lime, linden, honey, peach, rose, jasmine, violet, musk, iris, vanilla.

For a first foray into perfume, Maquillage is a very nice composition that would certainly benefit from an eau de parfum concentration. I think there is the promise of a bright future ahead of Armando Martinez if he wants to pursue it!

You can ask info and order samples of Maquillage directly from Armando by emailing at mandocmartinez@yahoo.com or on the First in Fragrance/ Aus Liebe zum Duft site.


Photo by Spyros Panayiotopoulos (courtesy of eikastikon)