Woudacieux Mousse d'Arbre Gris: Fragrance Review

 

There are few things I appreciate more than stumbling upon a clever word play which intrigues my mind and excites my hopes for something unusual. Mousse d'Arbre Gris was one such thing in the perfume world, and it caught me by surprise, since I had not heard of the Woudacieux Haute Parfumerie brand before. Lucky for me, the Internet and its wonders has a way of introducing me to all sort of bright ideas. And so, on I plunged and tried the fragrances.

 

Mousse d'Arbre Gris immediately impressed me. The wordplay lies in arbre being tree in French, while ambregris is grey amber, the notorious perfumery ingredient from sperm whales. And mousse is froth, foam, the fluffy texture of a dessert or lather. In short, it's not what it seems, it's so much more. 

All the Woudacieux fragrances I tried give the sensation of high ratio of natural extracts in them. They have this herbal, primal quality about them. The initial spray of Mousse d'Arbre Gris is redolent of jatamansi, or spikenard (the Latin name Nardostachys jatamansi indicates being part of the honeysuckle family). Native to the Alpine Himalayas and mentioned in the traditional medicine system of Ayurveda, jatamansi/spikenard is precious and important.

The scent of Mousse d'Arbre Gris is both green, herbal, resinous, between salty and warm-powdery -it gives mysterious and welcoming vibes of the vegetal and earthy kind.
The brand as a whole has a hippy-classy quality about them, the fragrances are vegan and produced in limited batches (2000 were created for this one). The illustrations speak of an affinity for botanical sketches on old books, and the fairies that seem to be dancing on the labels give an impression of a Victorian album.

It's a quiet and introspective scent that projects moderately and creates a sense of allure about its wearer. The synergy of synthesized castoreum,civet and ambregris gives a rich body behind the greener and floral touches of the top. It's supple and soft, ambery, non invasive yet still very there. The company introduces it as "an introductory turn on for both sexes" and it really is.

The 20% concentration of compound in the Eau de Parfum ensures a great lasting power to the mix and a value for money application. You only need a couple of sprays I found to fulfill the frothy mix of mossy-herbal softness aura around you. The bottle can be found on the official website. You can see images of the brand on their Pinterest account.

 

Acqua di Parma Colonia Ambra: fragrance review & draw

Tucked among the crags of western Portofino Promontory is the town of Camogli, which the novelist Charles Dickens once declared "the saltiest, roughest, most piratical little place. " Its sea dog mercenaries were sought after to rival the fleet of the ally city state Genoa. Ambergris, that adventure in a bottle for armchair mariners, is at the very core of inspiration for Colonia Ambra by Acqua di Parma, which I discovered this year and immediately liked.

via

That's not coincidental, as ambergris, the prized animal exudation from sperm whales for perfume, is a scent I could (and do) wear neat on my skin in alcohol tincture. Dedicated to a gentleman who loves to travel and explore new cultures, Colonia Ambra is part of the "ingredients themed editions" of the classic Colonia by Acqua di Parma (The other two editions include Colonia Leather and Colonia Oud, also good).

The mention of the other editions is not without merit; if you like Colonia Oud, this edition, Colonia Ambra, is like the oud base has been stripped off but the smoky woody goodness remains, layered rich and thick and nuzzling on the skin. The cypriol addition makes its presence known (as does patchouli) and the warm materials shift the direction into a woody oriental, milder and softer than Colonia Oud. I could very well wear this frequently; it's refined and lasting without elbowing anyone out of the way, yet it is no wallflower either.

Although the skeleton for the classic Colonia is one of stark freshness, the citrus fruits in Colonia Ambra have purposefully lost their sparkle in order to solely render a "lift" to the warm, musky aura of ambergris, musk and patchouli which are at the very nucleus of this composition. One can't really describe the notes one by one, as the blend is relatively tight and the overall effect is one much more refined than the allusion to Camogli would suggest.

Fans of amber and vanilla scents in men's fragrances should explore Colonia Ambra. This is marketed to men, but I find that it can be shared by women perfectly, like boyfriend jeans or a nice velvet jacket for evenings over one's chiffon top to keep the chill out.
The projection and sillage are moderate, but the staying power is very satisfying given the posh price.

Fragrance Notes for Colonia Ambra by Acqua di Parma:
Top Notes: Orange, bergamot, petit grain
Heart Notes: Rose accord, cypriol, virginia cedarwood, patchouli
Base Notes: Ambergris, sandalwood, cistus labdanum, vanilla, musk

This is what Acqua di Parma says about the scent of Colonia Ambra:

"An original, elegant fragrance inspired by the distinctive combination of two olfactory themes that are bursting with personality - the citrus notes of Colonia blend with deep sensuality of Ambergris, an ancient essence that is extremely rare and precious. Its characteristic scent is owed by the effect of the ocean and the wind, shaping and caressing this precious substance for many years before casting it ashore on the world’s beaches. The zesty citrus top notes of orange and bergamot evolves into a warm heart with cedar wood, rose and patchouli. Sublimated by the perfect harmony of Ambergris with sandalwood, warmed by the soft accents of vanilla, this new Eau de Cologne Concentrée reveals its unique personality in base notes of inimitable elegance and refinement."

This edition of Colonia Ambra comes as a natural spray of Eau de Cologne Concentrée, encased in a beautiful luxurious fabric-covered box, available in a 100ml or 180ml size.

One lucky reader will receive a 5ml vial by leaving a comment below this post, stating their views on fragrances inspired by animal essences. Draw is international and ends Wednesday 23rd midnight. 

Related reading on PerfumeShrine:
Ambergris: Definition and Musings on "Whale Vomit" (?) 
Perfumes with Ambergris, the mysterious "grey amber" note
Acqua di Parma: fragrance reviews & news
Frequent Perfumery Questions on Perfume Shrine
Cypriol/Nagarmotha: Smokiness of Wood

Arte di Profumi Harem Soiree: fragrance review

The ember glow of a dying fire shining through the window of the yalı, the iodine assault of intensely animalic ingredients brought in by the breeze, medicinal unguents resting atop a mahogany shelf at the darüşşifa, eroticism beyond coy or playful, an arrow heading straight to the heart, drama unfolded in one astounding act. The prelude of an unforgettable moment. Far too wild to be tamed and loaded with panache, its presence is unmistakeable. Its name? Harem Soirée.

Mala Fatra, Slovakia, 1963, Vilem Heckel. Czech (1918 - 1970)
via

Harem means the forbidden and beyond the feverished Western Europeans'* dreams of physical love conducted in exotic locales of Eastern promise, it signified the living quarters of the Sultan and his family during the Ottoman rule, a place where no access was granted to outsiders.
[*such as J.A.D.Ingres, Pierre Loti or Lord Byron]

Harem Soirée is tied to ambergris (all Arte di Profumi Roma fragrances have a "star" ingredient featured on the label) but that's clearly not the whole story. Besides being profoundly animalic, the daring scent is full of the concentrated essence of labdanum, with only a very distant hint of that other "amber" ingredient, vanilla. The treatment of this iconic oriental chord is pitch black, resinous smelling, dark as the cloth of the night, dangerous and medicinal as if stemming from prophylactic pharmacopeia, vaguely reminiscent in mood of Ambre Sultan, but even darker and denser with bittersweet myrrh; cuffs of lead rather than iron. Its very austere and dramatic character, with no concessions to the fruity bowl or the dessert trolley, make Harem Soirée a perfect backdrop for discerning gentlemen or women with the rush of adventure fanning their wings.

The name is referencing the shows put by women dancers as well as the 1999 Turkish film by the same name (Harem Suare).

The perfume along the rest of the Arte di Profumi Roma line is available from Jovoy Paris and Ausliebezumduft online.

La Via del Profumo Milano Caffe & Venezia Giardini Secreti: fragrance reviews & free bottles giveaway

I'm starting with the really spectacular: We have a giveaway on Perfume Shrine, one winner will win TWO free perfume bottles of the newest creations by La Via del Profumo straight from Italy, one of Milano Caffé and one of Venezia Giardini Secreti (the first two fragrances in the new Italian Series). The draw is open to all till Wednesday 19th midnight and all you need to do is comment in the comment section below to be eligible. The winner will be announced on Thursday.

Now that we got this off our chest, let's concentrate on the gorgeous fragrances themselves!

La via del Profumo, an authentically artisanal line of exquisitely crafted fragrances, composed by natural perfumer Abdes Salaam Attar (Dominique Dubrana) in Italy, is proud to present the new "Italian Series," an homage to five great Italian cities (Milan, Venice, Florence, Rome and Naples) and the Italian country as a whole.

MILANO CAFFE

A sybarite fragrance needs the proper mind-frame to work and Italy with its languid climate and smooth contours of land naturally lends itself to it. The pervading and intoxicating scent of freshly ground coffee is one small part of this luxury of letting time slip by. The mingling of chocolate in the composition of Milano Caffé recalls the dusting of cocoa powder on the white "caplet" of a hearty and filling cappuccino, drunk leisurely with a view of the impressive Duomo before taking a stroll down the Via Montenapoleone for some serious window shopping. The Milanese are nothing if not sticklers for detail, from their dog's collar to their impeccable shoes, and I can feel in Milano Caffé the vibrancy of the elegant woody and spicy background which hums underneath the culinary notes of the top. Coffee is naturally a complex smell, comprised of caramelized & smoky/acrid facets on one end, of woody, like freshly sharpened pencils, on the other.

via virtualtourist

The dry quality of the fragrance despite the tonka bean and ambery richness elevates the composition into classic resinous-balsamic level; one mistakes smelling Milano Caffé for a full-bodied vintage that peels layer after layer after layer. In fact, what is most surprising is finding a hint of the cocoa-facet of orris and something which reminds me of the fluff, the flou quality of the resin opoponax, amidst the proceedings. This caress under the dark and bitterish flavor of coffee only serves to consolidate the infiltrating appeal of that highly prized bean, that elixir of life, the coffea arabica, cutting its slightly acidic character. Although the spicy woodiness might make Milano Caffé more conventionally masculine in direction, its richness and cuddly chocolate note makes it a great choice for the woman who doesn't follow trends but rather sets them herself. After all, it is no accident that coffee and coffee shops were seen as the nursery of revolution and of anarchy, and that both Ottoman Turkey in the 17th century and the Ethiopian church banned the exotic bean's secular consumption; it's that stimulating!

VENEZIA GIARDINI SECRETI

Venezia Giardini Secreti is inspired by the small "pockets" within Venice and the tales of the very popular in Italy Corto Maltese cartoon books, specifically "Favola di Venezia" ("Tale of Venice"). Venice is also the abode of Chevalier de Seingalt, more commonly known as the greatest womanizer of them all...

The solace of the shady gardens breeds flights of fancy and the escape of the intrigue of the political world: "When the Venetians are tired of the constituted authorities, they hid in these three secret places, these doors at the bottom of the secret passages opening to beautiful places and other stories ..." Whatever the story is, Venezia Giardini Secreti is redolent of the sweetly intoxicating scent of blooming jasmine and of rose blossoming in the summertime, allied to the mysticism and the marine signature of ambergris, an emblem of the naval tradition of "La Republicca Marinara".

via 

In a way there is a kinship between Tawaf, La Via del Profumo's jasmine fragrance from the Arabian Series, which is redolent of the jasmine sambac variety, rich, heady, like an aching pleasure and a call of beauty, and the latest offering in the Italian Series. And yet in Venezia Giardini Segreti the direction veers into less of a resinous floriental, with the anchoring of the base providing the softest pungency, an animalic hint more than a mysterious, apocryphal rite. For all the secrecy of the passages under the canals—which lead to gardens of a hundred delights and of the erotically charged tales of Casanova—the elegance and grace of Venezia Giardini Segreti is manifested in a touch of soft leather, a hint of motherly milk, a whiff of salty sea ...

Creed Green Irish Tweed (1985): Fragrance Review

~by guest writer AlbertCAN

 This is my tenth year, in various capacities, within the fragrance industry. One does not come this far without hearing a tall tale or two over the years. Some printable; some unfortunately aren’t. Thus imagine my amusement a few years ago when George Clooney’s negotiation for fragrance licensing with Coty fell through, in part, because the asking fee was $30 million dollars.

Now don’t get me wrong: I’m sure Clooney had his sound rationales, and $30 million dollars would surely come in handy when buying a more secluded villa in Lake Como, with the privacy he had sorely missed when vacationing. With this being said it’s doubtful that I would need a copy of bottled George in the first place, for when I am compelled to take after the leading man —along with other cultural icons such as David Beckham, Russell Crowe, Pierce Brosnan, among others— I pull out my copy of Green Irish Tweed.

actor David Kelly in his green irish tweeds

Officially Green Irish Tweed was created by master perfumer Pierre Bourdon for yet another leading man among leading men —Cary Grant. The chronology gets fuzzy beyond this point, however. He supposedly used it, though Grant would kick the bucket within a year after the fragrance introduction. Carbon dating the scent through its olfactory blueprint would be somewhat futile in this case, for it’s a green aromatic fougère that subtly influenced the masculine market for years, pointing to the future rather than its past. (But more on that later.)

Timeless doesn’t even begin to describe this scent, for Green Irish Tweed is working incredibly well for men of all ages. Just like the same Shakespearean passage could be interpreted so many different mannerisms and contexts, Green Irish Tweed somehow manages to give off a different spark in different situations: on a young lad, the vibrant and brash green opening; on a middle-aged businessman, the all-purpose aromatic earnest; and the golden men, the classic fougère base. That’s not to say that GIT lacks character, as it opens with a bracing rush of green and citrus elements such as lemon verbena. True to namesake fabric the nuances from the crunchy green really maintain the requisite masculine ruggedness; it’s as if one is meeting a true aristocrat, but instead of in the drawing room of his ancestral home it’s a chance meeting right before his polo match, brimming with confidence and vigor. Somehow I suspect geranium is in the mix, having picked up its presence among other similarly structured colognes, yet it’s not listed in the official notes: instead we have an interesting bunch consisting of violet leaves and vetiver making rounds before settling on the aforementioned fougère base along with sandalwood, ambergris and modern musk. Iris is in the mix too, although truth be told I still cannot decide its place: Creed lists it as a top note, whereas it's more of a heart note to my nose.

Now at this point readers with a modern olfactory palette would need some contexts before smelling this fragrance for the first time, for its idioms have been widely utilized ever since. The bookends of this fragrance, the green and the fougère, was to me referenced in Chanel Platinum Egoiste (1993), albeit in an arguably more acrid, slightly more high-pitched incarnation. Of course, Bourdon would also famously reprise the structural integrity of GIT by plugging in Calone into the mix, producing the watershed Cool Water for Men in 1988, just three short years after the release of the Creed.

Comparing Green Irish Tweed with Cool Water for Men is indeed a gentlemen pursuit worth partaking, for the differences are quite interesting. To me GIT is gentler in character, less intrusive than its marine sibling. Both perform quite well in diffusion and sillage, although Cool Water for Men balances out the freshness from Calone with a more assertive base in my humble opinion. Now much has been said about the use of Calone, the synthetic chemical first discovered by Pfizer in 1966 but left on the shelves for decades due to its bizarre slant: in high concentration its scent has been described as oyster like! Yet at a lower pitch it gives off a fresh marine impression with, depending on the context, melon or cucumber with a slightly saline dent. Yet Calone isn’t the magic pill within Cool Water for Men, as its similarities with the Creed imply. Of course, the Davidoff is more budget conscious, done with broader brush brushstrokes, but Bourdon’s signature touches are decidedly present in both. After all, the instrument alone doesn’t make a concert: neither in perfumery does the overdose of a novel ingredient take away from the thought process. We also pay for the perfumer’s time, not just for the sum of the bottled ingredients.

One notable difference, however: GIT layers very well with other masculine scents, not only with eaux de colognes but also quite interestingly with MUMAs. Because it doesn’t come in deodorants I tend to combine it with Terre d'Hermès deodorant stick. Mind you, I have even layered it beautifully with Chergui by Serge Lutens, with Chergui at the base and GIT right above, though looking back the combination is a tad assertive for my taste, fortifying the amber of the Lutens to an opulent, diffusive place I don’t normally venture—but then again conventional rules are out of the door at Lutens; I just dare not go that far.

For more information please refer to Creed’s official website.

Guerlain Encens Mythique d'Orient: fragrance review

The main criticism upon announcing the news on the Arabian inspired triptych by Guerlain, affectionately termed "Les Deserts d'Orient", has been that should this exclusive-laced foray into Middle Eastern market tastes prove successful, it would herald a stop to French companies offering "French-smelling" perfumes. Having the privilege of savoring the new fragrances at leisure, thanks to the generosity of my Middle East readers, I'm in the happy position to let you know this is not the case and wouldn't be, if Guerlain continues in the direction they've taken with Encens Mythique d'Orient especially. The perfume is redolent of the splendor and richness of the east, yes, but it firmly holds on the patrimonies of the west as well, translating as a very decadent, European-geared animalic oriental with mossy proclivities.

 

 It comes as a sort of an exquisite shock to see that whereas Guerlain new head perfumer Thierry Wasser had been taxed with selling Guerlain short in the first couple of releases under his name -which were baptism by fire for him- he has proven now that he's capable of both refinement and modernization without eschewing tradition (as in the solar floral Lys Soleia) as well as in offering the baroque treatment with the taste for exquisite balance and quality for which Guerlain perfumes had become famous the world over. Much like Shalimar, Mitsouko or Vol de Nuit before it, Encens Mythique d'Orient is inspired by exoticism but it retains at heart a core of tradition which distinguishes it from upstarts to the throne (Montale etc.) Wasser has found a balance between what the Arabs will find somewhat familiar, yet tinged with the desirable Franco-laced "western cachet" and what the Westerners, flocking to the flagship boutique on Champs Elysees for precious juice, will find inspired by the 1001 Nights.

 Even though Encens Mythique d'Orient is allegedly inspired by frankincense, there is little of the ecclesiastical citrus-laced, terpenic smoke we have come to associate with high mass or niche fragrances aimed at aficionados of this pious, somber ambience. Rather ambergris is the real protagonist, in what smells like a real tincture of the rare greyish matter, with all its nutty, buttery, smoky and salty intimate nuances intact, blooming on the skin like a hundred kisses from the soft lips of a handsome sheik. The mood is animalic, sexy, decadent and very "there" without becoming skanky or vulgar, though I expect hyper-sensitive to intimate acts of pleasure individuals upon smelling it will be clutching their pudenda self-consciously pronto.

 Guerlain gives what incense is there the Guerlain treatment (with a nod to Lutens as well) and weaves richness and depth in their typical patisserie way, full of billows of raw materials which fuse East and West into an amalgam, a tapestry with a million themes. The opening of Encens Mythique is reminiscent of retro shaving foam, part retro fern-like and mossy, part musky sweet, with a very decadent, rich feel to it that stems from an oriental Damask rose. The rosiness is allied to saffron, a classical combination that exalts the bittersweet facets of the spice into a warm embrace. But it is the coalescence of ambergris and muskiness which "makes" the perfume a true Guerlain and at the same time a reverie into the Middle East.

 The sillage and lasting power are great; you certainly get your buck's worth in investing in this fragrance. I'm smitten!

 

The Guerlain perfume bottles of Les Deserts d'Orient are adorned with Arab-cript calligraphy down one side, the French names down the other side. They are the tall, architectural style of the collection L'Art et la Matière with the antique gold overlay on the sides holding 75ml of perfume. The concentration of the fragrances is Eau de Parfum for tenacity. Prices are set for 190euros/AED990 per bottle. The perfume was aimed to be available exclusively in the UAE and the Guerlain flagship store. Also via the connections of Wim in Parfumerie Place Vendome in Brussels, and in the UK in Harrods for 160GBP.

 Painting by Norman Lindsay, Languor or the Pink Drape (1934)

Christian Dior Dioressence: fragrance review

The advertisements read: "Exuberant. Smouldering.Uninhibited".  It was all that and more. Mink coats, cigarette-holders, lightly smeared eyeliner after a hard night. Dioressence launched as "le parfum barbare" (a barbaric perfume); the ready-to-wear fur collection by Dior in 1970 was orchestrated to give a powerful image of women as Venus in Furs. Commanding, aloof, demanding, even a dominatrix. The fragrance first launched as a bath oil product, reinforcing the name, i.e. Dior's Essence, the house's nucleus in liquid form; Dior wanted to write history. It later came as a stand alone alcoholic perfume, the first composed by perfumer Guy Robert for Dior and history it wrote indeed. A new breed of parfum fourrure was born!

Dioressence: A Wild, Untamed Fragrance
The fragrance of Dioressence itself, in part the brief being a depart from Guy Robert's refined style, was the love affair of ambergris (a 100% natural essence at the time) with the original 1947 Miss Dior, a chypre animalic perfume, itself laced with the animal notes of leathery castoreum in the base, so the two elements fused into each other most compatibly. Ambergris is lightly salty and nutty-smelling, creating a lived-in aura, while leather notes are sharper and harsher, especially when coming from castoreum, an animal essence from beavers with an intense almost death-like stink. The two give a pungent note.
In Miss Dior this is politely glossed over by a powdery gardenia on top. The animalicistic eroticism is only perceptible in the drydown. In Dioressence the sexiness is felt from the very start, only briefly mocked by a fruity lemony touch, and it only gains from further exposure to notes that lend themeslves to it: rich spices, dirty grasses, opulent resins, sensuous musk. In a way if Cinnabar and Opium (roughly contemporaries) modernised the message of the balsamic oriental classic Youth Dew, Dioressence gave both a run for their money, being bolder like the Lauder predecessor, yet in a rather greener scale. 

The intensity of the animalistic accord in Dioressence was boosted even further by the copious carnation-patchouli chord (much like in Jean Carles sexy Tabu), spiced even further with cinnamics (cinnamon notes) and given a glossy glamour with lots of natural jasmine. The greenery over the oriental-chypre basenotes is like the veneer of manners over the killer instinct. Still the Guy Robert treatment produced something that was totally French in style. You can't help but feel it's more tailored, more formal than any modern fragrance, perhaps what a power-woman of the early 1980s would wear to power-lunch, even indulging in some footie work under the table if she feels like it, but its wild undercurrent is almost foreshadowing the contemporary taste for niche.

Why Dioressence Changed...to the Worse
Alas the perfume after a brief career fell into the rabbit-hole of a teethering house (The Marcel Boussac Group bankrupted in 1978 and it was purchased by the Willot house, which also bankrupted in 1981). Not only had the vogue for big orientals been swung in a "cleaner", starchier direction in the meantime (Opium, Cinnabar, Giorgio), but the management hadn't really pushed the glam factor of Dior as much as Karl Lagerfeld had revolutionized, nay re-animated the house of Chanel (the effect in the mid-80s of that latter move was analogous to the miraculous push Tom Ford gave to Gucci in the late 90s; nothing sort of spectacular). Dior would need almost a whole decade to get its act together, bring out Poison (1985) and find its financial compass under the LVMH aegis. By then it was down to familiar LVMH accounting bean-counting and therefore marvels like Dior-Dior perfume and Dioressence were either axed (former) or given catastrophical face-lifts (latter). Same happened with the ill-fated, yet brilliant Dior masculine Jules, which had launched in those limbo years (1980 in fact).

Comparing Vintage vs.Modern Dioressence
I well recall the old formula of Dioressence, back when it was a mighty animalic-smelling oriental with moss in the base because it was alongside (vintage) Cabochard my mother's favorite perfume. She was neither particularly exuberant, not knowingly smouldering and rather inhibited, come to think of it. She was a real lady, through and through, and yet she loved Dioressence, le parfum barbare! (and her other choice isn't particularly blinkered either, is it?) There's really a dark id that is coming throuh perfume and allows us to role-play; what's more fun than that? The Non Blonde calls this Dior "Miss Dior's Casual Friday outfit" and I can see her point; it's letting your hair down, preferably for acts of passion to follow.

The modern version of Dioressence (at least since the early 2000s) has been thinned beyond recognition, the naturals completely substituted with synthetic replications, till my mother 's soul departed from the bottle, never to return. The new Dioressence on counters is a somewhat better chypre than recent memory, with a harsher mossy profile, a bit like a "cougar" on the prowl not noticing she's a bit too thin for her own good, all bones, no flesh. Still, an improvement over the catastrophic post-2005 and pre-2009 versions.
Dioressence first came out as a bath oil in 1969 (advertisements from 1973 bear testament to that) and then as a "real" perfume in the same year. Perfumer credited is Guy Robert, although Max Gavarry is also mentioned by Turin as implicated in the process. The newest version (introduced in 2010, reworked by Francois Demachy) is in the uniform Creations de Monsieur Dior bottles with the silver mock-string around the neck in white packaging, just like Diorissimo, Forever and Ever, Diorella and Dior's Eau Fraiche.

The Full Story of the Creation of Dioressence

In Emperor of Scent, author and scent critic Chandler Burr quotes Luca Turin: "The best Guy Robert story is this. The House of Dior started making perfumes in the 1940s. Very small scale. The first two, of which Diorama was one and Miss Dior the other, were made by Edmond Roudnitska, a Ukrainian émigré who'd studied with Ernest Beaux in Saint Petersburg because Beaux was the perfumer to the czars. So Dior approached Guy Robert-they invite him to dinner, they're talking over the cheese course, no sterile meeting rooms, this is a brief among gentlemen-and they said, 'We're doing a new perfume we want to call Dioressence, for women, but we want it very animalic. The slogan will be le parfum barbare, so propose something to us.' Oh boy. Guy can hardly wait. Of course he wants a Dior commission. And the challenge of mixing the florals of the traditional Dior fragrances into an animal scent (because this isn't just any animalic, this is a Dior animalic, if you can imagine such a bizarre thing) is just a bewitching challenge, who else would have the guts to attempt joining those two. So he gets right to work, plunges in, and he tries all sorts of things. And he's getting nowhere. Nothing's working. He's frustrated, he doesn't like anything he's doing.

"In the middle of this, someone in the industry calls him, and they say, 'There's a guy with a huge lump of ambergris for sale in London-get up here and check it out for us.' Ambergris is the whale equivalent of a fur ball, all the undigested crap they have in their stomachs. The whale eats indigestible stuff, and every once in a while it belches a pack of it back up[1]. It's mostly oily stuff, so it floats, and ambergris isn't considered any good unless it's floated around on the ocean for ten years or so. It starts out white and the sun creates the odorant properties by photochemistry, which means that it's become rancid, the molecules are breaking up, and you get an incredibly complex olfactory result. So Guy gets on a plane and flies up to see the dealer, and they bring out the chunk of ambergris. It looks like black butter. This chunk was about two feet square, thirty kilos or something. Huge. A brick like that can power Chanel's ambergris needs for twenty years. This chunk is worth a half million pounds.

"The way you test ambergris is to rub it with both hands and then rub your hands together and smell them. It's a very peculiar smell, marine, sealike, slightly sweet, and ultrasmooth. So there he is, he rubs his hands in this black oily mess and smells them, and it's terrific ambergris. He says, Great, sold. He goes to the bathroom to wash his hands 'cause he's got to get on an airplane. He picks up some little sliver of dirty soap that's lying around there and washes his hands. He leaves. He gets on the plane, and he's sitting there, and that's when he happens to smell his hands. The combination of the soap and ambergris has somehow created exactly the animalic Dior he's been desperately looking for. But what the hell does that soap smell like? He's got to have that goddamn piece of soap. The second he lands in France, he sprints to a phone, his heart pounding, and calls the dealer in England and says, 'Do exactly as I say: go to your bathroom, take the piece of soap that's in there, put it in an envelope, and mail it to me.' And the guy says, 'No problem.' And then he adds, 'By the way, that soap? You know, it was perfumed with some Miss Dior knockoff.'

"So Guy put them together, and got the commission, and made, literally, an animalic Dior. Dioressence was created from a cheap Miss Dior soap knockoff base, chypric, fruity aldehydic, plus a giant cube of rancid whale vomit[2]. And it is one of the greatest perfumes ever made."

[1] [2]Actually that's not quite true. Ambergris comes out the other end of the whale, not the mouth. Read Christopher Kemp's Floating Gold.

Notes for Dior Dioressence:
Aldehydes, Bergamot, Orange, Jasmine, Violet, Rosebud, Ylang ylang, Geranium, Cinnamon, Patchouli, Orris Root, Ambergris, Oakmoss, Benzoin, Musk, Styrax.

Related reading on Perfume Shrine: The Dior fragrance reviews Series

ad collage via jeanette-soartfulchallenges.blogspot.com, Dior fur via coutureallure.com

Tauer Perfumes Pentachords ~White, Auburn, Verdant: fragrance reviews

Indie perfumer Andy Tauer gets inspired by music scales into arranging his newest line of fragrances we're exclusively previewing on Perfume Shrine today on pentachords, that is to say 5 consecutive notes on the diatonic scale. Pentachords® by Tauer Perfumes (White, Auburn and Verdant) are arranged as elusively simple, but not simplistic, harmonies resembling rather pentagram chords: the whole only becomes powerful when each part falls into place. Or think of a pentagram in the place of the classic French fragrance pyramid; "an accord that changes from one corner of the scent’s pentagon over time".

In a way it's minimalism and music theoretics pushed to an elegant extreme, a concept that is refuted by some; Tauer's bravura if successful, a big risk if not. "The compression and limitation an incentive" as he says. How many ingredients are necessary for a satisfying perfume? Tauer can whip up something with only five molecules and the results are satiating enough to fool you into believing there's more than meets the eye; kinda like full-cream premium ice-cream composed by only a handful ingredients, instead of tons of frilly additives.
Andy envisioned them (back in February 2009)  like "a fragrance built around 5 pillars. The line of thought moved on towards a pentachord fragrance. A fragrance, or an entire line of fragrances, built with 5 components only that are one chord, a pentachord." [...] "For me, this is art in its purest form: mirroring nature, bringing it into a concept, and by doing so thinking about it and invite others to think about it and enjoy it."

The long-lasting nature of the Pentachord fragrances (easily 10 hours or more) also speaks of picking elements with deft selection: sorting out the formula must be difficult when you have to ditch something that creates a striking effect, but doesn't translate well in structure or tenacity, and vice versa. You also have to choose good, expensive ingredients to yield their best properties into the concept. Lovers of the familiar Tauer signature will find things to like, especially in Auburn, which takes the ambery depths of his more resinous fragrances to date (Le Maroc pour Elle, L'air du desert Marocain), but I predict he will get new fans in Verdant and White which present striking effects poised between lightness and darkness. They both made an instant impression on me due to their juxtaposition of freshness against meaty earthiness.
All of them could be worn by either sex easily, though you'd have to like soft, gentle fragrances to appreciate White and to handle the metallic-woody top notes of modern masculine fougeres to unlock the secrets of  Verdant.

• White (a floral woody musk) is built on "the clear melody of royal Iris" and you do get it, but it's so much more as well. The concept of Pentachords White fragrance began while the perfumer was jogging in the snowy landscape of the woods near Zurich: "we thought about violet, orris root, ambergris, wood, vanilla", he admits. If this combination sounds inviting, the fragrance should get you all excited!
  The intense beauty of very expensive Irone Alpha (6-methyl alpha ionone) by Givaudan vibrates at the cusp of orris root and violet flowers, creating a silvery, expansive imagescape: A fragrance of either the crack of dawn or the crepuscular drawing of a prolonged cool afternoon, the contrast between light and shadow. The unusual element in the White Pentachord lies into manipulating the powdery, wistful and yet also "fleshy" character of orris into a fluffy embrace, in this case built on vanilla (methylvanillin to my nose, a phenolic aldehyde) and clean musk with a hint of ambergris/ambrox (a beloved "note" in the Tauer Canon for its skin compatibility properties): The subtle, gentle warmth of the latter elements balances the sadness and coolness of the former into an uplifting arpeggio, like the first or last rays of sun flickering on sheets of white. The sweetness of the fruity edges of the irone and the vanilla are most detectable in the middle of the fragrance's progression, while the more the fragrance stays on skin, the more the woody-iris facets of the molecule reveal themselves. It's innocent and supremely soft, but not maudlin. In fact it might have been inspired by a classic hazy scent which Andy loves to wear: Habit Rouge, a cloud transported from the skies on the wings of opoponax. Here Tauer substitutes the core opoponax for the amazing Alpha Irone which dominates the fragrance and creates a comparable "flou" ambience.
  Tauer's White has me hankering for things I did not know I had a hankering for: Jogging in the cold-ringing air at the crack of dawn trying to catch the first rays reflected in the white-spotted trees, warm milk in my thermos, or putting on warm pyjamas in bed, sipping violet pastilles and bringing down my teddy-bears again for a little cuddling session, years after they moved to the attic. It's a truly lovable fragrance that is sure to have many enamoured of it.

• Auburn (a spicy oriental) is presented as "the cupric warmth of cinnamon" and lovers of the compositions where Tauer smacks opposite his beloved mandarin citrus note resins (such as in L'air du desert Marocain, Une rose Vermeille, Incense Rosé) will smile with a smile of cognition: This is familiar ground, pared down to the necessities for this occasion. Amyl cinnamyl acetate gives a cinnamon note, while the amber-tobacco effect reinforces the oriental impression. It feels coppery and juicy. The citrus note is succulent, sweet rather than tangy, reminiscent of Orange Star, the heart sports hydroxycitronellal for expansion and a honeyed linden blossom note, while the background is deep, woody and ambery; a statement fragrance in the mold of modern orientals. Even though Auburn reads pleaurable as always ~Tauer is a master in arranging resinous, labdamum oriental accords~ it feels like already treaded ground and gives me the impression it was the last one to get developed; possibly as a need to tally the line into three different style offerings, or as a choice between some more additions that felt less representative of varying families and were thus kept for the follow-up. But that is only my guess and it does not detract from the fun that loyals to the "Tauerade" base will derive from it.

• Verdant (an aromatic green) represents "the lush green of ivy forests" and if you have ever dreamt of living in one of those country houses festooned with climbing ivy, shading it and keeping it cool, you're right there. The effect is photorealistic, from the water drops gleaming on the verdure, to the tangled growth & soil underneath replete with the gardener wearing leather gloves while trimming the branches. But what is most interesting to me in Pentachord Verdant is that in fact I smell an effect that strongly reminds me of woody vetiver fragrances: a nutty, oily rich, tobacco-laced earthy note which contrasts and compliments at the same time the greenery and grassy feel. It reminds me of Vertofix coeur (methyl cedryl ketone, a IFF ingredient) with its leathery vetiver facets, with an added sweet hay note of coumarin and rum-licorice which goes exceptionally well. The violet leaves come off metallic and bluish at the beginning, a tad sharp and androgynous (in the manner of Balenciaga Paris or Verte Violette), a jarring striking contrast, while the progression veers into warmer, ambery-leathery tonalities that create a warm pipe fantasy. If you like Vetiver Tonka and apreciate the sharp violet leaf freshness of modern masculines/unisex scents, this is a conversational piece to get you started in an engrossing discussion on modern perfumery. I find it a very interesting fragrance indeed.

The flacons for the Tauer Pentachords follow the pentagram design he already has introduced with Zeta, Orange Star and the rest of the latest releases, but in transparent glass with varying hues of coloured labels in white, copper and petrol green. The Pentachords line by Tauer Perfumes is only available at Campomarzio in Rome at the moment. They will launch more widely after the Pitti fragrance exhibition in September 2011.

Painting on top by Claude Monet. Pic of bottles via duftarchive.de In the interests of full disclosure, I got sent trial samples from the distributor.

Frequent Questions: Amber or Ambergris?

Perfume companies and their ad copy often end up confusing the consumer. Whether they do it inadvertedly or on purpose is to be examined. The point is several people raise questions: "Is amber and ambergris (i.e. grey amber) the same thing?" "Why is amber so sweet?" "Why do some ambers smell sweet while some smell savoury or even salty?" "Is it just me?" Let's disentangle the confusion.

Amber and ambergris are two completely different things, at least in theory as several companies tend to mix the terms to great confusion.

Amber usually refers to a resinous mix, a medley of base notes (usually a specific mix of only three amply suffices, read our extensive article on the differences) with a sweet, almost powdery tone (smell Histoires de Parfums Ambre 114 for instance) and an oriental theme due to the very nature of the resins used which hail from the East. Hence the ~usually in French~ terminology/classification of orientalised perfumes as "parfums ambrés". For instance CK Obsession, Shalimar by Guerlain or Moschino by Moschino (the original) are examples of perfumes "ambrés"; they're warm, inviting, a little powdery, soft, cuddly, mysterious...

The concept of "amber" is in fact an olfactory convention of the late 19th century and became a perfume "genre" at that time with the invention of vanillin (synthetic vanilla, as known from patisserie to most of us) added to the time-honored use of labdanum.

It's interesting to note that the most common raw materials for creating an amber accord for most perfumers are labdanum (resinous substance from Cistus Ladaniferus or "rock rose", possessing a leathery, deep, pungently bitterish smell), benzoin (a balsam from Styrax Tonkiniensis with a sweetish, caramel and vanillic facet) and styrax (resin of Liquidambar Orientalis tree with a scent reminiscent of glue and cinnamon) with the inclusion of vanillin.
Since vanilla naturally compliments the sweeter facets of benzoin and since it's both considered a universal pleaser (especially so in the huge US market) and a semi-aphrodisiac (according to some perfumers' beliefs, notably Guerlain) it's used to boost the effect rendering most ambers quite sweet. Four notable examples of non sweet ambers, to escape that surypy effect, while still remaining "parfums ambrés", are Ambre Sultan by Lutens (the golden standard, mixing a pungently herbal top note including bay leaf and oregano), Ambra del Nepal by I Profumi di Firenze (using naturally cool and citrusy frankincense to put the sostenuto on amber), Ambre Fétiche by Goutal (drier than most thanks to Russian leather base) and Ambre Précieux by Maitre Parfumer et Gantier (beautifully balanced with aromatic top).

Ambergris on the other hand refers to the intenstines product of the sperm whale. Ambergris (also called "grey amber" and ambregris in French) is a substance that the wild sperm whale (Physeter macrocephalus Lin=P.catodon) regurgitates naturally, a sort of cetacean furball to cleanse its digestive track of remnants of indigested cuttlefish (quid beaks mainly). "Only, if you thought it was got rid of through the mouth, think again: it comes out the other end...[Kemp Chris., Floating Gold: A Natural (and Unnatural) History of Ambergris]

"It’s hard not to fall in love with ambergris. Here is a solid lump of whale feces, weathered down—oxidized by salt water, degraded by sunlight, and eroded by waves — from the tarry mass to something that smells, depending on the piece and whom you’re talking to, like musk, violets, fresh-hewn wood, tobacco, dirt, Brazil nut, fern-copse, damp woods, new-mown hay, seaweed in the sun, the wood of old churches, or pretty much any other sweet-but-earthy scent". [Kemp Chris., Floating Gold: A Natural (and Unnatural) History of Ambergris]

 
The ingredient is rather sticky and gelatinous like, like a fat lump of grey color at first; while when it dries it becomes harder like a fragile but hard resin. When it is fresh, ambergris has nearly no value because its smell is extremely fecal (like "scented cow dung") and it has no value for perfumery. But let it float on the ocean for some years and it gains a beautiful patina that famously chemist Gunther Ohloff described as “humid, earthy, fecal, marine, algoid, tobacco-like, sandalwood-like, sweet, animal, musky and radiant”. Other people have dscribed it as having the scent of  wood in old churches or Brazil nuts.

To Christopher Ash in Whaler's Eye (George Allen & Unwin Lts.1964, p.254): "It always reminds me of a cool English wood in spring, and the scent you smell when you tear up the moss to uncover the dark soil underneath".

"Nor indeed can the whale possibly be otherwise than fragrant, when, as a general thing, he enjoys such high health; taking abundance of exercise; always out of doors; though, it is true, seldom in the open air. I say, that the motion of a Sperm Whale's flukes above water dispenses a perfume, as when a musk-scented lady rustles her dress in a warm parlor. What then shall I liken the Sperm Whale to for fragrance, considering his magnitude? Must it not be to that famous elephant, with jewelled tusks, and redolent with myrrh, which was led out of an Indian town to do honour to Alexander the Great?" (H.Melville, Moby Dick, ch.20)

The process of production is usually non harmful to the animal; not exactly "whale vomit" as purpetuated, more of the equivalent of a furball which floats on the ocean for years.

If we are talking about ethically harvested ambergris as opposed to ambergris from slaughtered whales ( that goes through a man-made maturing process) it is tremendously rare. It was one of the most prized findings of sailors (There is a mention of it in the seafaring adventure film “Master and Commander: far side of the world” when sailors contemplate capturing a whaler merchant ship.)

Its greatest attribute is its capacity for rendering a composition rounder, especially in oriental perfumes or in floral compositions where it melds the notes into one and brings out their best qualities. It clings on to fabric too, through repeated washings even, becoming ever sweeter with time. Therefore it is prized for its fixative power: the ability to anchor more volatile notes and make them last.
Most commercial perfumes today use a synthetic substitute, because the real thing is so expensive. 
Dior Dioressence used to use real ambergris back in the day. Eau de Merveilles by Hermes is suppossedly one of the few that contain some raw ambergris (debatable) , which is usually used in tincture form in perfumery due to its sheer potency. Creed is also insisting that they use real ambergris in their perfumes. Natural perfumers use beach harvested ambergris in some of their more exclusive or bespoke fragrances.


Natural ambergris doesn't smell sweet at all to me; in fact it's salty, almost dry, a little oily. A very different variant on sensual which I personally lean to with a passion. Smell Isabelle Doyen's L'Antimatière by Les Nez to get a feel of what natural ambergris smells like: it's choke-full.
[For a much more elaborate breakdown of the raw materials and perfume terms "amber" and "ambergris" as well as the synthetics used to replicate an amber note in perfumery you can read more on this link. ]

To revert to the confusion instigated by perfume companies, let's illustrate with some examples.
Some perfumes do use the term "amber" in their puramid notes to stand for "ambergris", Eau de Merveilles by perfumers Ralf Schwieger and Nathalie Feisthauer being a case in point in some online lists of notes. The fragrance smells saline, salty, almost briny, discreet, definitely not sweet. Prada's L'Eau Ambrée is another example along those lines: I had described the drydown as smelling of ambergris, of salty skin. Clearly not an "ambré" perfume in the sense described above!

Balmain's Ambre Gris on the other hand does exactly the opposite: The whole ad copy is a marketing ploy based on the "myth" of ambergris:
« L’ambre gris, proche du mythe, un ingrédient rare et précieux à l’odeur somptueuse. » (While in fact the natural is very rarely used nowadays and only in very select, very expensive cases).
The scent itself is based on amber synthetics and is indeed sweet (typical cinnamon-vanilla accord). But the name and corresponding colour co-ordinated packaging work on the premise of "grey amber" and the elusive "pearl" of the sea: The cap is shaped like a huge South Sea pearl, its surface scattered with dots that look like Sevruga caviar "boules" from afar (thus further evoking luxury and the ocean), the colour scheme is greyish, mysterious, non bronzed oriental.

Perfumery is an intricate language that traps the mind into perceptions that trick the nose...

Resin drop trapping an insect inside via wikimedia commons, photograph of Ambre Gris by Balmain bottle via Stress & the Country

Andy Tauer Orange Star: fragrance review & draw

The newest Andy Tauer fragrance, Orange Star, is based on his previous soap-making for Christmas-giving for which he produced Mandarins Ambrées, a lovely, yummy concoction of mandarin and clementine essences steeped into ambregris tincture (or so it seemed to me). Rest assured that if you liked that soap (I did), you'll love the fragrance too!

Andy had written on his blog about that soap back in November 2007: "It took me a while and quite some fiddling around to get this ambergris hint, the little woody vibrant touch that I wanted to be there, lifting the green mandarins without transforming the bathroom into Givaudan’s Okoumal* production facility. In a sense, the ambergris line shall bring out the colours, point the nose to a mandarin that is fresh, green, clean.Les Mandarines ambrées have survived an extensive bathroom test for weeks in Zurich, they pleased the eye and the nose and the skin as well."

*Okoumal is a Givaudan aroma-chemical smelling ambery and fresh with powdery and mushroom-y nuances.

Orange Star , the fragrance which transforms that concept into a proper, complex fragrance, is an intensely sunny, citrusy (but never cologne-y) composition with lots of coumarinic tonka beans for warmth and comfort, fanning out the cheery glow of the fruits. The tenacity of ambregris is skin-like, a wee bit dry under the natural sweetness of the hesperides, but what I call the coup de grace is the inclusion of a fine spicy note (halg peppery, half clove-y) which makes the whole quite piquant instead of soapy blah. There's some floral element in there (orange blossom, violet, some lily-ofthe-valley for sudsy) but it's never overshadowing the main character. The base material, Ambreine, derived from cistus labdanum, is truly beautiful (but more on to that later, I'm promising you something spectacular!) In all, recognisably Tauer, high naturals ratio, good tenacity.

Spraying vs. dabbing makes for an expansive experience, the spicy note ringing truer, the mandarin juice dribbling more succulent.

Official notes for Andy Tauer Orange Star:
Head: Fresh citrus accord with mandarines and clementines
Heart: Juicy lemongrass, clean orange flowers
Body: Rich ambergris base with tonka beans and hints of vanilla

The best bit is that the bottle and presentation box looks truly gorgeous in deep cobalt blue (as far as I can see from the pictures and from the Milan exhibition) and is a definite redemption for the previous packaging that has been criticized as "cheap-looking" in the past (Le Maroc pour Elle, I'm looking at you!) As Tauer's business has flourished, going from one success to another, so did the budget and the new design showcases we have to deal with an artifact that has the exterior presentation it deserves. Bravo!

For our readers Tauer has provided a generous deluxe sample for a lucky reader. Andy will be at the Scent Bar (Luckyscent's brick and mortar store in LA) on Saturday 17th from 1-4 p.m , but you have your chance to try it out for yourself even if you can't make it to Los Angeles! Please state your interest in the comments. Draw will be open till Sunday 18th midnight. Draw is now closed, thank you for participating!
Samples and pre-orders for bottles will begin sometime before May 1, 2010 at Luckyscent

In the interests of full disclosure, I was provided with two samples directly from Tauer Perfumes: one for myself, one for the giveaway.
Painting Swimmer, 1998, by Colette Calascione via coilhouse.net

Prada L'Eau Ambree: fragrance review

L'Eau Ambrée, maestra Miuccia’s latest fragrance, talks with the whispers of a ghost; an ectoplasmic take on the dry woody, patchouli and ~most imporantly~ ambery core of the original Prada fragrance mingled with the saline note of Eau de Merveilles that reproduced the scent of ambergris rather than sweet resinous amber (For more on the differences between amber and ambergris read this article). Ghost-like in its evanescence, gossamer-light, leaving behind but the memory of someone living in a grey-hued photograph that captures its ether.

This new gouache of an oriental is possibly the most skin-scent-like Prada ever issued, even more so than Infusion d'iris. One could even consider it an embryo of the idea of an "oriental" for the next decade and beyond: Will it induce hallucinations of orientalia beneath the gauzy veil to the modern day sylphids who worship at the altar of austere Prada? It remains to be seen. I see it as a step in that direction and the beginning of a new trend in perfumery.
Lovers of diaphanous ambergris creations and those able to smell Isabelle Doyen's L'Antimatière by Les Nez might find something to take them through every eventuality: The fragrance enters the scene in a light-through-the-tunnel vista, all hazy linings, via its refreshing top (which isn't quite as citrusy as purported nor is it rosy, but it's certainly cypress-like and with a micro-facet of white flowers tucked in someplace inside). And then it takes on a little tone of sweet, slightly salty sweat musk, not a tetrapod's raunchy howl, but the smell of seashore in spring and the bodies that lie down on its fluffy texture (cozy musks with no big sweetness have this effect). Yet the refinement of the drydown is so delicate that it could find its way along with your Prada frames and eponymous canvas tote to the office. And surprisingly for such a light scent it lasts too with a lingering trail, which as March put it: "It dries down and fades away but has a habit of popping up again and again, all day long".
According to Prada, 'L’Eau Ambrée is a perfume that ‘imposes itself discreetly with the perfect balance of classic influences and of modernity that is characteristic of Prada fragrances. This eau ‘twines complexity, freshness and harmony’ around a sleek, contemporary amber'.

L'Eau Ambrée, the latest in the Prada amber-based perfumes (amber is in the original Prada, as well as in Prada pour homme) was developed by perfumer Daniela Andrier and was launched this past September, with the expectation to be a permanent mainstay in the line unlike the ephemeron Infusion de Fleurs d'oranger.
Prada’s original bottle has taken a dark mantle here, adorned with a golden plaque instead of the silver of the original.

Prada L'Eau Ambrée is available through major department stores in Eau de Parfum 1oz/30ml, 1.7oz/50ml and 2.7oz/100ml.; Eau de parfum Deluxe refillable atomizer (with spray bulb) 2.7 oz/100ml and 2.7-oz./100ml refill; Body Lotion 6.8 oz./200ml; Bath & Shower Gel 6.8 oz./200ml; Body Cream 6.8 oz./200ml; Powder with powder puff 3.5 oz/100ml.

Notes for Prada L’Eau Ambrée:
Top: Citron, citrus, mandarin from Italy
Heart: Rose, gardenia jasminoides, patchouli
Base: Amber, vanilla, oppoponax

The advertisments are lovingly retro in an almost frieze-reprising way: a cheeky manner of eschewing the sexy-mania of other houses, a deliberate abhoring of seduction that comes from the mind of a true Marxist designer not interested in the man-hunting games of the western tradition, Miuccia Prada.





Michigan Central Station ghost, photo by Nicole Rork via michpics.wordpress.com
Acropolis Parthenon Hydrophoroi scene from the East frieze. Clips originally uploaded by gottalovebirds and stylistaonline on youtube

L'antimatiere by Les Nez: fragrance review

In "The Fisherman and his Soul" by Oscar Wilde a fisherman falls in love with a mermaid and eschews everything, even his very soul to go and live with her under the sea. After proposals of wisdom and wealth in order to re-unite with his immortal part fail to entice him back to land, he returns to see the beautiful legs of a dancing girl.

If you have wondered how it would be even possible to make love to a mermaid, then L'antimatière might provide an olfactory accompaniment to the age-old enigma.

"Thou shall not cheat the customer with a misleading headnote", the motto behind the concept, should have been the cardinal rule of perfume making. Alas, to the chagrin of myriads it is not usually so. All too often there is some initial first impression when testing fragrances which sways our best intentions and make up deposit our hard-earned cash for something that will disappoint once we fully test it at home (but it's too late by then!) Les Nez decided to abandon top notes completely for their L'antimatière. This is the reason for the initial shock which might leave you with mouth open, as the fragrance goes from alcohol to seemingly nothing. Yet give it a couple of minutes and it starts to "bloom" in ways unexpected.

L'antimatière means "anti-matter" which "is the extension of the concept of the antiparticle to matter, where antimatter is composed of antiparticles in the same way that normal matter is composed of particles"[...] the apparent asymmetry of matter and antimatter in the visible universe one of the greatest unsolved problems in physics".
In archaeology, we are accustomed to bagging every trace found in an effort to protect remains from cosmic radiation, much like the forensics experts do to protect evidence from physical tampering. I have never really detected any ill-effect caused by cosmic radiation although I have seen plenty due to mishandling, but this is another point for another day. Suffice to our discussion is that L'antimatière acts as anti-matter: It's a game of prestidigitation!

L'antimatière belongs to the Les Nez (parfums d'auteurs) line, a niche brand from Klingnau, Switzerland founded by perfume lover René Schifferle, and was composed in 2006 by Isabelle Doyen, along with the rest of the triptych, Let me Play the Lion and The Unicorn Spell. She presents it thus: "An invisible ink that leaves a trace, foreseen rather than felt, persistent yet whispered, of creased bed linen wandering along your curves".

From the slightly Band-Aid smelling opening to the mineral quality that reminds me of some highly-diluted vetiver varieties, L'antimatière is on the whole the closest thing I have ever smelled to natural ambergris tincture and it shares the sensuous undercurrent that belies the process of formation of that priceless, rare ingredient. Natural ambergris has a wonderful tinge of saltiness, almost brine-y, encompassing elements of skin-like musky tones, and even a subtly sweetish accent. Of all the natural animalic ingredients it is the one which could be worn neat and the only one which can be harvested in a completely ethical (non animal-cruel) way, as whales resurgitate the material in the sea where it floats for years before being deposited on the shores. L'antimatière, although not divulged as such, must surely contain copious amounts of this precious ingredient, as the comparison with the natural is so telling. The unexpected lack of top notes means that it swiftly goes for the memory of times past instead of the flirting stages.

Due to its very nature of subtly caressing, smoothing out, suave character, it might be very discreet to the point of practically undetectable to noses accustomed to stronger commercial perfumes or fans of concentrated "full bodied" fragrances in the old style; and spritzing instead of dabbing is highly recommended anyway. It also tends to have a different nuance according to the spot applied, which I am hypothesizing is its reactioon to the natural warmth of the skin. This element might discourage the majority from splurging on a full bottle, and indeed I am fairly certain that Les Nez issued it as a dare. However, for all that, for anyone who has smelled real ambergris and is appreciative or anyone who hasn't and is curious, this is emninetly sample-worthy!

L'antimatière is available as a 50ml/1.7oz Eau de Toilette, directly from the Les Nez website, through Aus Liebe zum Duft or Luckyscent.

Related reading on Perfume Shrine: Les Nez fragrances, Amber & Ambergris.

In the interests of disclosure I got sent a carded sample of each fragrance from Les Nez as part of their sample giveaway upon launching Manoumalia.

Photo: Bob Carlos Clarke exhibition via 20ltd..