Guerlain Apres L'Ondee: fragrance review

What's in a name? What's in a material? Shakespeare's immortal line has a lot to account for. Lots of scents with heliotrope pose as "almond" or "marzipan" or "powder with tonka". These are all scents with a kinship that runs deeper than initially thought of. The synthesized material that is dosed into compositions that take heliotrope as a starting point is quite strong and can be an overwhelming molecule to work with if one isn't careful and discreet. One of the first major fragrances to make judicious use of it, in a light enough composition, so as to wear it inconspicuously, was Après l'Ondée by Guerlain, "after the spring shower" as the name implies.  

"Ça se porte léger" (this wears lightly) is the motto behind the concept of these Guerlain creations that aim to offer gouaches rather than oil paintings. It's more akin to the pale, hazy colorations on a Monet sky than the almost fauve brushwork and vivid color palette on a Van Gogh, to bring an art analogue. If one were to look for a fauve heliotrope, one would rather turn to Cacharel's Loulou.

Zaira Alfaro on Flickr via

I personally find Après l'Ondée a rather quiet fragrance indeed, almost timid, with a sweetish air that is not immediately thought of as feminine (quite different than the airs that current feminines exhibit!), with lots of heliotropin to stand for cassie, which is the predominant element. Some heliotrope scents also recall cherry pie, or lilac and powder, but not Après l'Ondée. Even the almond is not particularly identified as almond, it's a haze of lightly warmed, blurred, hazy notes, a cloud of a distant scent.

The violets, like you might have heard, are quite fleeting in this Guerlain perfume, especially in more recent incarnations which are warmer and cuddlier than the older ones, notably the extrait de parfum in the Louis XV style bottle. The anisic note on the top note is also a brilliant addition (created through the use of benzylaldehyde, it would be recreated more forcibly in L'heure Bleue some years later), since it brings a chill cooling off the first spray and balances the warmer, almond paste flavor of the heliotrope in the heart.

Après l'Ondée is also rather less known than L'Heure Bleue, so even Guerlain wearers on the street might not identify it right off, which is always a good thing in my books; it would also obliterate your qualms about it being perceived as solely feminine.

Guerlain Apres l'Ondee: fragrance review & a bit of perfume history

Lots of scents with heliotrope pose as "almond" or "marzipan" or "powder with tonka". These are all scents with a kinship that runs deeper than initially thought of, like matryoshka dolls that peel one after the other, each one revealing a smaller version of the same idea. Après l'Ondée by Guerlain feels like the great grandmother of them all, if only judging by chronology, if not adherence to the exact formula from 1906.

via

The synthesized material that is dosed into compositions that take heliotrope as a starting point is quite strong and can be an overwhelming molecule to work with if one isn't careful and discreet. One of the first major fragrances to make judicious use of it, in a light enough composition, so as to wear it inconspicuously, was Après l'Ondée by Guerlain. "Ça se porte léger" (this wears lightly) is the motto behind the concept of these Guerlain creations that aim to offer gouaches rather than oil paintings. In fact the composition was largely inspired by a former Guerlain fragrance, Voilette de Madame, which according to fragrant Guerlain lore served as the fragrance to scent a lady's veil. In those times of the cusp between the 19th and 20th century perfume worn on the skin was considered rather scandalous. It recalled les grandes horizontales, kept women of the demimonde like La Bella Otero or Marie Duplessis. Lightness was therefore a requisite for proper ladies; never mind that the subtle animalic undercurrent of Voilette de Madame is antithetical to our modern scrubbed down notion of how a perfume behaves.

I personally find Après l'Ondée a rather quiet fragrance, almost timid, with a sweetish air that is not immediately thought of as feminine (quite different than the airs that current feminines exhibit!), with lots of heliotropin to stand for cassie, which is the predominant element. Some heliotrope scents also recall cherry pie or lilac and powder, but not Après l'Ondée. Even the almond is not particularly identified as almond, it's a haze of lightly warmed, blurred, hazy notes.

The violets, like you might have read in evocations of gardens "after the shower" (the literal translation of its French name), are quite fleeting in this Guerlain scent, especially in more recent incarnations which are warmer and cuddlier than the older ones. The anisic note on the top note is also a brilliant addition (created through the use of benzylaldehyde, it would be recreated more forcibly in L'heure Bleue some years later) since it brings a chill cooling off the first spray and balances the warmer, almond paste flavor of the heliotrope in the heart.

Après l'Ondée is also rather less known than L'Heure Bleue, so even Guerlain wearers on the street might not identify it right off, which is always a good thing in my books; it would also obliterate your qualms about it being perceived as solely feminine.


Related reading on PerfumeShrine:

The Guerlain Series: perfume reviews and history of the French House
Guerlain Re-issues 4 Archived Fragrances for their Heritage Collection
Guerlain Chypre 53: an unknown photo-chypre, perfume history
The history of the Guerlinade accord and the modern Guerlinade fragrance

Bacchic, anisic-tasting cookies: Mediterranean Fennel biscuits

You may find similar recipes under “Bacchus Biscuits” because the followers of Bacchus carried a stalk of wild fennel with them; an image rather suggestive, if you think about the symbolism of the god. Irrespective of sexual connotations fennel is very popular around the Meditternanean where anisic flavours (such as the aroma present in aperitifs such as pastis, tsipouro and ouzo) are very familiar and beloved since infancy; even bread is often peppered with anise, paired with black olives and a slice of good cheese for a light supper. These fennel biscuits are crunchy, not soft (though they're never supposed to be gritty), a popular notion with the Greeks, maybe because the arid climate allows for a coordination with the local cuisine; you would never associate mulch stuff with Mare Nostrum. In addition there's a lightly sweet aspect to fennel which is at the same time quite refreshing, further enhanced by the richness of butter and the finishing of salt. 

Whatever the secret is Fennel biscuits make for a perfect accompaniment to strong flavorful coffee (a good Greek coffee made in the traditional copper "briki" or a dark roast espresso) in the morning or in the afternoon, preferably after a brief siesta, when life seems anew full of promise and earthy pleasures. Ah...

Recipe for 25 cookies

Ingredients:

• 1/2 cup soft butter (salted)
• 3/4 cup sugar
• 1 tablespoon fennel seeds (ground)
• 1 whole egg
• 1 3/4 cups plain flour
• 3 tablespoons cornmeal
• 1 1/2 teaspoons baking powder

Directions:

1. Cream the butter and sugar together in a large bowl. Add the fennel seeds and the egg and beat. In another bowl, mix the flour, with cornmeal and baking powder, and whisk.

2. Stirring all the time, start adding the flour mix to the butter mix, slowly . When smooth and starting to come off the edges of the bowl, shape the dough into a log with floured hands, cover in plastic wrap and refrigerate overnight.

3. The next day, preheat the oven to 375 degrees F. Slice off the log into small cylinders of the log, roll them into a ball, then press them lightly with a glass to flatten again; you can also cut them with coupe-pâte. Arrange the slices on a bake-sheet in your baking pan. 

4. Bake until they begin to color on the edges, about 10-12 minutes (according to how thin the "slices" you cut were). Remove and cool on a rack. They can keep in a biscuit tin for up to a month. For further effect you can sprinkle aniseed when serving. 

 Song is "Σταλιά σταλιά" (i.e. drop by drop [and insatiably I drink your kisses]), written by Georgios Zabetas and sung by Marinella.

Etsy photo

Patricia de Nicolai Kiss Me Tender: fragrance review

Heliotrope is at once deep, soft and mysterious, a note traversing the rainbow from the yellow of vanilla pods and almond, to the light blue and green of anise right to newly mown hay. Kiss Me Tender by Parisian niche brand Patricia de Nicolaï feels like being submerged in a warm bathtub on a cool evening, the translucence of water clouded by the full range of the delicate, powdered notes of heliotrope.

The simplicity of structure in Kiss Me Tender shouldn't fool us into believing there is no skill involved. Heliotrope might be a full perfume in itself, but De Nicolaï weaves it both subtly and deliciously, a hint of retro without ever falling into the pit of dated. If you always liked the powdered aniseed core of the classic L'Heure Bleue perfume but found it too mature, rejoice: the main components ~anise, orange blossom and synthetic heliotropin (for heliotrope notes, as the flower cannot be extracted)~ are present in both the classic Guerlain and the newer Patricia de Nicolaï; it might all be in the genes, the woman derives from Guerlain stock after all! (For those who don't know, she's the grand-daughter of Pierre Guerlain). But it's more than that just modernising and streamlining a beloved structure and one of the quintessentially Guerlain notes. It's underscoring it with a freshness and tenderness like never before.

The almondy facets in Kiss Me Tender bolstered by vanilla overlap into the gourmand oriental fragrance group; tempered, good-mannered sweet, a touch of white pastry confectionary like marzipan accented with spicy bites that are just this side of edgy. The hay facet is clearly discernible, over abstract solar notes (salicylates) of ylang ylang and non-indolic jasmine, floating on a watery pong, the two woven in the ethereal way of Hermès Vanille Galante.

More delicate and subtle with skin-soft musky notes than livilier interpretations of the note (such as the latest versions of Guerlain's Apres L'Ondée which are eclipsing the violet in lieu of heliotropin) Kiss Me Tender comes closer to the feel of being wrapped by goose down in L'Eau d'Hiver (F.Malle) or the lighter interpetations of Shalimar and Habit Rouge; after all it shares the flou, hazy base of opoponax resin with the latter two. The deviant, fresh and slightly green, minty-anisic top note takes Kiss Me Tender on a different track than the usually opressive routes of other gourmand or floriental fragrances built on almond and gives it a unisex aspect that men might enjoy too. (The trick of coupling anise with vanilla for lightening the latter is working for Jo Malone in Vanilla & Anise as well.)
For its elegance and versatility, Kiss Me Tender is a must-try for those who always sought for a discreet daytime heliotrope fragrance but probably a bit too pastel for those who like their floral orientals hard-core and khol-eyed.

Notes for Patricia de Nicolai Kiss Me Tender:
vanilla, aniseed, almond, heliotrope, fresh cut hay

Kiss Me Tender is available in 30ml/1oz for 39 euros or 100ml/3.4oz for 99 euros of Eau de Parfum available on the official Patricia de Nicolaï site and select stockists.

Cacharel Loulou: fragrance review

When Cacharel Loulou first came out in 1987, there was a wonderful TV ad set to the romantic Pavane, Opus 50 by Gabriel Fauré and veiled in the mysterious bluish tones of the print ad. It featured a slip of a girl in a classic 20’s bob haircut dressed in a dark stretch dress (so Parisian at the time, very Azzedine Alaia!), swaying hurriedly through space on what seemed a film set, and when a voice called out “Loulou”, she turned to us –the viewers- replying “Oui, c’est moi” (i.e.yes, that’s me). It transported the Cacharel-trademark hazy contours and grainy shots of photographer Sarah Moon to the next level: a Lolitesque seduction. It has haunted me ever since...

The inspiration of Loulou by Cacharel: Loulou was meant to evoke the great film actress Louise Brooks and her Lulu role in the silent 1928 Pabst film Pandora’s Box (tamer than its title would hint at, but not by much considering). Louise Brooks has captured the imagination of discerning cinephiles ever since. Her trademark haircut (that actually recalls Cleopatra herself) has inspired many women and men alike. In fact Guido Crepax, the Italian sketch artist of “Valentina”, fashioned his notorious heroine of a vivid imagination and lush posterior attributes on her. The comic book had been turned into a RAI miniseries back in the late 80’s starring Demetra Hampton. The erotic TV-series was heavy in cultural referencing; indeed one episode was called ..."Lulu", reprising the Brooks character.

Loulou the Cacharel fragrance is almost forgotten today, although slightly less than those episodes, although it hasn’t been discontinued. In an age that pushes celebrity scents to an apotheosis, the natural urge of the perfume fanatic would be to turn to niche scents and/or classics from the distant past. Indeed this has been the case with many, as current literature on the subject indicates. That leaves many lovely perfumes of a more recent crop to the shade. Pity if you think about it. I had used the perfume for a while back, enjoying the wink in the eye it provided, the naiveté, the pure élan. It was perfection for those times!

The formula was composed by perfumer Jean Guichard, who is also responsible for Obsession (another 80’s hit), Eden (another forgotten Cacharel), and Deci Dela ( the delectable light chypre by Nina Ricci). Loulou bears the mark of the decade’s excess : lush and rich, it would seem completely out of place up until ten years ago when gourmands entered the scene. Somewhere between floral and oriental and with a similar feel to both Oscar de la Renta and Poison, Cacharel Loulou can also be viewed as a distant cousin of Guerlain's L’Heure Bleue. The sweet and a little melancholic heliotrope plus anise ties them together. The Cacharel fragrance opens on the characteristic note of cassis, a synthetically recreated berry base, quite sweet. This may become overwhelming on some, but the assistance of bergamot and aniseed manage to soften the blow of the top notes. Violet, mace and plum add their smooth nuances along with an armful of ylang-ylang, jasmine, marigold and a smidgen of tiare (that tropical flower of Tahiti), although one would be hard pressed to locate any of those individually, except for heliotrope perhaps which has a soft almondy scent, imparting a powdery aura along with the earthy orris: The feeling is almost retro, much like the whole ambience of the scent is after all. The fragrance lasts and lasts on the skin, suffused with musks and woods, with the insistence of tonka bean, a hay-like vanillic seed of a West African tree.

The bottle of Loulou looks best in the parfum or splash version (as depicted in the ad): a turquoise polygonal opaline that continues the house’s love affair with opaline (later to be reprised in green for Eden) topped with a dark red pointy stopper and garlanded with a burgundy red tassel : the contrast of colours is daring and unique, the concept vaguely inspired by Poison according to Michael Edwards. The Eau de parfum sprayer is sadly not as pretty.
To me Loulou will always remain the smell to match the young girl that had first caught my eye in the TV ads and myself back then : insouciant , oblivious to her own seductiveness. A wonderful fragrance, if rather sweet for everyday.



The commercial still produces a sigh of delightful and wistful reminiscence in me, like a dog who is sighing, her paws tucked in and her ears down at the completion of a tender, sad patting as if to part forever.

Photo of Demetra Hampton as Valentina via facebook. Loulou ad via Parfum de Pub. Louis Brooks in Pandora's Box via seraphicpress.com

Balenciaga La Fuite des Heures (Fleeting Moment): fragrance review

There is no question that Germaine Cellier was a formidable woman and an innovative perfumer mapping history with her Balmain and Piguet creations. Hers is nevertheless the lesser known, but none the less majestic, La Fuite des Heures (pronounced la-fou-EET dez-erh and translating as Fleeting Moment) for Balenciaga in 1949; a Provençal herbs and jasmine formula of great radiance and tenacity.
There is an interesting snippet of fashion and perfume history pertaining to this Balenciaga fragrance, which was the second to be issued by the house: Initially composed by Cellier at Roure for the French market, it was modeled after the aldehydics established at the time (and hence in chasm with her bombastic creations for Piguet such as Fracas and Bandit).

Why is that? No.5 by Chanel was the prototype of the genre (and still is) due to its commercial success, especially after WWII when soldiers returning from the European battle-fronts had popularised it in the conscience of American bourgeoisie as the pinacle of French chic and the porthole of aspirational status. Let's not forget that even historic French houses, such as Guerlain, had followed the paradigm with their own creations, namely Liù (although the latter's history is a little more gossipy that that!). Balenciaga had already issued a fragrance, Le Dix (10), his first foray into scent, named after the address of his couture studio at 10 Avenue George V. Not unexpectedly, that one also happened to be a floral aldehydic! Another version of La Fuite des Heures, specifically aimed at the American market, was issued in the beginning of the 1960s, the Camelot days of the USA when "Parisian" didn't seem as far fetched as before. And as they say the rest is history...

The fragrance was available as an Eau de Cologne in tall cylindrical ribbed bottles with simple pastic caps and black labels with white simple lettering. My own extrait de parfum of Balenciaga's La Fuite des Heures in its shagreen container, (probably from the 60s) is well aged, thick and dark as its blobs ooze from the crystal stoppered flacon. Yet the suave jasmine and ylang-ylang glory with sweet accents of light amber in the base is still there.
The piquant herbs (anise? thyme?) and greens notes (vetiver?) along with an aldehydic vibrance (a little soapy & orris powdery the way Chanel No.5 is soapy & powdery) have mellowed significantly; they give way to the more tenacious woody and above all musky elements, a reality all too often met with when dealing with vintage perfumes. The drydown is fused with some of the most glorious musks this side of pre-banning of several valuable ingredients.
Despite its approximation to vintage forms of No.5 (such as the magnificent Eau de Cologne version), La Fuite des Heures stands alone sufficiently well and even presents itself as a most wearable specimen of an elegant creation of yore. Like a couture gown by the great Spanish master himself, lose the hat, the gloves and the pose and you might wear the lace ruffled dress with your modern stilettos soled in red and an air of bon chic bon genre socialite.

Related reading on Perfumeshrine: Balenciaga news & reviews, Vintage scents reviews

Balenciaga couture lace dress via fashionmodel.mtx5.com. Balenciaga La Fuite des Heures bottle pic by Elena Vosnaki

Jo Malone Vanilla & Anise: fragrance review

In contemplating the newest Jo Malone fragrance, Vanilla & Anise, one reverts to an overview of the brand, originally founded by one resourceful English woman and now owned by the gigantic Lauder group.

One of the ~superficial, you might judge~ attractions of the Jo Malone brand for me personally has always been that delicious waffle-toned packaging with the black, scented tissue paper and the matching ribbon-tied rectangular boxes: pure class and understated luxury at the drop of (the exactly right) panama hat. No big logos on the carrier bag, no glaring exhibits of glitz. The stacked-up bottles in the boutiques (like the one I had visited in London) make for the deeply satisfying feeling one gets when they manage to uniformly bind a collection of books in personally initialized leather: arguably my own library needs some work towards that end, as only a fraction has received that treatment yet, but I live in hope! Still Jo Malone's library of fragrances presents the same expectations: classy exteriors with contents to be savouringly explored.

The line has so far presented a division of sorts in its pleiad of offerings: there are the Jane Austens, full of sunlight, social banter and light character studies (French Lime Blossom, Lime Basil and Mandarin, Jasmine & Honeysuckle); and there are the Dostoyevsky-wannabes (Pomegranate Noir, 154, Wild Fig & Cassis, Nutmeg & Ginger). Unfortunately sometimes the latter resemble The Gambler, a dare of the Russian master to write up a novella in a month while simultaneously immersed in his famous masterpiece: they take place in Roulettenberg! Vanilla & Anise is placed someplace between the two: its intentions and onoma allude to the latter while the scent itself to the former.

Vanilla as a note seems to be experiencing a revival in niche and upscale brands with the innovative and ultra-luxurious Vanille Galante by Hermès {review link}, along with the newest Havana Vanille by L'Artisan {info here}, a reworking on their vanilla notion, many years after the candy-cotton ethylmaltol innovation of their ice-cream cone hologram Vanilia. I am saying a revival in the niche and upscale brands specifically, because the mainstream sector never abandonded their romantic notions of vanilla being an aphrodisiac; a snowballing concept to be brought to its rightful source: Guerlain and their great classics. The rewoking of vanilla in modern creations is a fresh approach of cleverly interwoven cool and warm facets, resembling changeant fabrics and eschewing the simplistic ice-cream flavourings that have occupied the lower end of the market for more than a decade now.

Per Jo Malone Vanilla & Anise is intended to “transport you to the floral valleys of Madagascar the moment that vanilla orchids bloom at day-break” since regardless of the fact that the vanilla orchid originated in Mexico, it is Madagascar which is today’s largest producer of vanilla. Curiously enough the scent isn't dominated by either vanilla or (star) anise, no matter the gourmand allusions these two might insinuate by their culinary proclivities. The surprise hiding under one of Malone's most successful creations, Lime Basil and Mandarin, has always been the peeking of an unexpected edginess under the greeting familiarity and this element has sneaked its way in Vanilla & Anise as well. In this case it is the bittersweet effect of the oleander note (and perhaps coumarinic accents) alongside the intense citrus touches (bergamot, neroli) clearly discernible, giving a decidedly summer feeling of vacationing at a resort someplace warm. If Hermès hadn't already issued the magnificent Vanille Galante one season ago with its predominatly lily-esque petal softness, I would have been marvelling at the new approach and applauding the delicate, meringue treatment rendered here, all crispy exteriors and airy insides. Nevertheless, given the fact that they already have in a most successful way artistically, I am less impressed the second time around.
Still, Vanilla & Anise should please those hankering after a luminous, air-spun lightly sweet fragrance with discreet floral touches, especially if they nostalgise about summery pleasures in the heart of winter. Those who prefer their vanillas folded into Dr.Oetker baking mixes or alternatively those who want them smokey-eyed and showing some hint of tushie beneath black see-through should go look for something else.

Notes for Jo Malone Vanilla & Anise:
Top Notes: Sicilian Bergamot, Tunisian Neroli, Wild Fennel Flower, Star Anise
Middle Notes: Oleander, Tuberose, Frangipani, Purple Vanilla Orchid
Base Notes: Madagascar Clove, White Amber, Vetiver Bourbon, Vanilla Bourbon Absolute, Tonka.

International launch for Vanilla & Anise is expected in September, but the scent has already reached Nordstorm, the 100ml costs £64, 30ml is £32. Visit the official Jo Malone site here.

Related reading on Perfume Shrine: Anise, wormwood and absinthe series

Painting by Colette Calascione via formfiftyfive.com

Break This Bittersweet Spell on Me ~Douce Amere by Lutens: fragrance review

Douce Amère's sonorous name, meaning "bittersweet" in French, brings back memories of childhood with a Prustian rush: the precarious balance of bitter and sweet like a poisonous plant, like bitter sightshade; the smell of danger and dare of a bitters sip coupled with the comfort of a vanillic dessert consumed long after playing truant and getting grounded for it. Or even the strange macaroon-style cookies my mother baked comprising of coconut, dusting sugar and strong ouzo: a recipe concocted in hell, I'm sure, but tasting like a fresh slice of heaven. Bitter food and drink have the perverse tendency to make you yearn for them several years later and this is no exception.

Yet Douce Amère remains one of the most underappreciated fragrances in the Lutens oeuvre for some reason, even though it came out in 2000; 8 years ago, enough time to make its mark and lure in accolytes.

Jean Poiret, a French actor and playwright who wrote and starred in the original 1973 Paris production of La Cage aux folles, is the author of Douce Amère , a comedy written in 1970.
However upon looking around a bit, I also found another synonymous theatrical happening:

"[...]Madame Douce-Amere (Mrs. Bitter-Sweet) is a female Marcel Marceau, whose curious antics and invisible dog take her beyond the walls of her home and into the laps of the audience. Madame invites you to help yourself to her hot chocolate and cookies and then sit back to watch the fun".

~through Theatrehorizon.org

I am not sure if Serge Lutens was inspired by either (or even by the Solanum Dulcamara "nightshade" plant) nudging "nose" Chris Sheldrake into embottling the satyrical and funny along with the poignant. But it would have been interesting to contemplate that he would. His fragrances often evoke heavy costumed dramas to me, with secondary actors in the wings, getting a quick turn on the stage for some precious moments before they disappear like in a Euripedean episode.

Cinnamon fondles the herbal constituents of Douce Amere into submission while the naughtier peppermint-like accents along with what seems like citrusy oils raise their naughty head from time to time in wistful yet tantalizing temptation. The medicinal opening of aromatic wormwood -the plant that gives absinthe drink its green pungency- belies the hedonistic, Epicurian progression into a velvety gourmand meant for gustatory appraisal. Soft, woody accords finish it off in a kiss of sweet departure.

In a way, Keiko Mecheri's Paname is a poor man's substitute for Douce Amère (and the line has been criticized for drawing heavily on the Lutens line for inspiration). They have a very similar start, but ultimately the Lutens fragrance remains more compelling. Paname has a sharper, more astringent tone with heavier sweetness in the coda, unlike the infinite tenderness of the Lutens's base.
The liquorice feel of Douce Amère also recalls a grown up, tipsy Lolita Lempicka after a round of absinthe cocktails; while its sweetness is vaguely reminiscent of the pudding notes of Casmir by Chopard, although much more airier, less clotted.
Unlike many in the Lutens canon, Douce Amère never veers into the amber highway to the orientalised Silk Road and remains an enigma, perched like a Prodikean Hercules on the brink of two roads. Or one party of unrequited love with equal parts happiness and despair.



Notes (provided by Serge Lutens.blogspot): artemisia absinthium, anise, cinnamon, marigold, foamflower*, jasmine, lily, tagetes, vanilla, musk, cedar.

*Foamflower is scientifically called Tiarella cordifolia or Tiarella trifoliata (two separate species within the same genus).


Douce Amère comes in a 50ml/1.7oz bottle of Eau de Parfum and is available through Aedes, Luckyscent, the Perfume Shoppe, Escentual.co.uk and select department stores around the world.




The title of the post comes from the song "Bittersweet" on the clip above.

Clip: Apocalyptica featuring Ville Vallo (from HIM) and Lauri Ylönen (from The Rasmus) "Bittersweet" , originally uploaded by xxtasteofinkxx on Youtube.
Pic Scent of Green by Bolandrotor/Flickr.

Absinthe Series 4: Fragrances of Anisic Goodness

Today we continue our project of organising fragrances with anise inspired by one of the herbs that aromatize absinthe and offer a distinction between those who draw upon aniseed and those who explore facets of the chinese spice star anise. The two are not interchangeable:

"Aniseed is a member of the parsley family and native to the Eastern Mediterranean. Nowadays it grows in all warm climates. Anethole is the oil that accounts for the distinctive sweet-licorice taste. Both the leaves and the seeds have this flavoring, which is used in breads, cakes, and confections in parts of Europe and the Middle East, in curry and seafood dishes in India and neighboring countries, in various dishes in Southeast Asia, and as the flavoring of such alcoholic drinks as the French pastis and Greek ouzo.[...]Star anise is the fruit of a small evergreen tree native to southwest China, and now also grown in Japan and Southeast Asia. The plant puts out a small star-shaped fruit with (generally) eight points, and a seed is contained in each of the points. Star anise can be used whole as a flavoring, its seeds can be used as a flavoring, and both can be ground. It is the dominant flavor in Chinese five-spice powder. It has been used in Asia to flavor pork and chicken, in teas, and as a seasoning.[...]Like aniseed, its flavor comes primarily from the anethole oil, but it is considered more bitter than aniseed".

~Through Ochef.com

Scents with Anise and/or Licorice:

*Aimez-moi by Caron: A violet fragrance on a powdery vanillic backdrop, it profits from the slightest touch of anisic piquancy to lift it from the usual.

*Alpine Lily by Crown: Anise leaves over a floral composition, resulting in a fresh and young interpretation. Very "clean".

*Ambre Sultan by Serge Lutens (nose Chris Shledrake): This back to the roots of oriental perfumery legend has the interlay of various herbs, such as bay, oregano and anise which give it a dusty, kitchen cupboard smell that deviates from the crowd-pleaser little ambers out there. Individual and unsurpassed it has been likened to a woman's sexual juices. You have been warned!

*Anice by Etro (nose Jacques Flori): The success of Anice is that it maintains its headstrong persistence in smelling anisic till the very end. According to Luca Turin the heart uses cis-jasmone (which has a smell of fennel and contributes to natural jasmine aroma) along with fennel seed and a macrocyclic musk that also has an anisic ambrette character. Whatever! It's a lovely fragrance if you yearn for that liquor-like note.

*Anisia Bella in Aqua Allegoria line by Guerlain: Another single-minded fragrance that focuses on smelling mostly like anise and a rather pleasant example of the Aqua Allegoria line before all the flavours of chewing gum took over.

*Après l'ondée by Guerlain (nose Jacques Guerlain): What is it that makes this so nostalgic, trembling with delight after the shower which its name hints at? Is it its heliotropin soft powderiness married to melancholic iris like a smooth-faced Ophelia contemplating the joys of the river? No, it's probably what is more culinary and which confirms that reputation of Guerlain as a grand chef of French perfumery: provencal herbs and spices of which anise is more pronounced give a glimpse of the sun forming a rainbow over dewy petals. A 1906 classic.

*Acqua e Zucchero by Profumum: A scent that one would be hard pressed to detect anise, it combines orange blossom to berries and vanilla to render a sweet fragrance. The slight hint of anise/licorice is a welcome inclusion, but the whole is too close to Pink Sugar to justify the price.

*Black Annis by BPAL: In the familiar tone of Black Phoenix Alchemy Lab scents, this is seriously strong and pungent with the eponymous aroma and what seems like catty civet. Part of the Diabolus series with notes of "damp cave lichen and oak leaf with a hint of vetiver, civet and anise".

*Confetto by Profumum: Very sweet almond fragrance with a touch of anise. I am amazed though that it demands such high prices for something that Hypnotic Poison or even Jour de Fete does better.

*Duel by Annick Goutal (nose Annick Goutal, Isabel Doyen): One of the more individual fragrances in a line of limpid and lucid watercolours, it is a masculine with an original touch.

*Etra by Etro: A soft, aromatic composition of woods and florals, very ethereal and rather soapy on top, more shady later on with spice and cedar. The whole reminds me of eating fruity pie while sipping ouzo, which is as strange a gastronomic combination as any, but somehow works: I have seriously mellowed on the fruity note of it, I was much more dismissive before. All those horrible fruity florals out to compare must have helped.

*Hypnôse by Lancôme (noses Thierry Wasser and Annick Menardo): For something that is so obviously inspired by the recent gourmand crop following into the footsteps of Angel a touch of anise is unexpected but not enough to redeem it in my eyes. Too derivative.

*Hypnotic poison by Dior (nose Annick Menanrdo): I recall the first time I smelled it with dread: a spectator in front of me had ruined an exceptional Genet performance in an art-house theatre one evening a long time ago with the cough suryp fumes emanating from her heavy sweater. I had thus shunned it for years. Finally, a litle while ago I tested the eau de toilette in a store prepared to hate it and finally it dawned on me. It's trippy, yes, but oh so good! The anisic touch with the bitter powder of coumarin makes it soar.

*Insolence by Guerlain (nose Maurice Roucel): The old-fashioned take of L'Heure Bleue, merely dressed as lamb with a strobo light on top. Everything exterior belies its contents and I for one liked it from the very first.

*Iris Pallida 2007 by L’artisan (nose Anne Flipo): A woody iris for a very demanding price, encased like a precious vintage wine, it uses anise to highlight the dry softness of the rest of the composition.

*Jasmine de Nuit by The Different Company (nose Céline Ellena): A dirty, spicy jasmine fragrance which mesmerises by its feral power and animalic prowl. It begs to be taken on a date with naughty intentions. All this and a touch of anisic goodness too!

*Jil Sander No.4 by Jil Sander: I always liked this deep oriental from almost 2 decades ago. I don't know why I relied on decants and minis all this time. It projects, it envelops, it brings about questions as to what I am wearing.

*Krizia by Krizia: A great chyprish fragrance that is seriously underrated. A touch of anise with all that cool moss makes it supremely elegant and confident.

*L'heure bleue by Guerlain (nose Jacques Guerlain): The archetypal anisic floral, it poses an enigma for serious perfume lovers: to wear or not to wear? It's an undisputed work of art, very characteristic of both its times and the artistry of Guerlain. However I could never since find the exact formulation that made me appreciate it about 15 years ago. Which is a pity: nothing comes close to what I had smelled that glorious afternoon strolling around the perfume boutiques of my city, with all the elation of my own hard-earned money in my pocket.

*Lolita Au masculin by Lolita Lempicka: The masculine interpretation of the feminine Lolita Lempicka fragrance with a touch of violets and for me even better. It is succulent but restrained in its sugared stakes and it proves to be extremely wearable through its licorice kept in blood-sugar check.

*Lolita Lempicka and Lolita Midnight (nose Annick Menardo): One of the few fragrances in the wake of Angel to leave their own mark. Intensely liquorice-like, herbal in its pungency and with a gorgeous bottle the shape of an enchanted poisoned apple it has become a little cult of its own with a fairy tale advertising campaign. The limited edition Midnight bottle is in darker bluish hues and completely covetable. They also do some of the most darling limited editions sets every once in a while.

*LouLou by Cacharel (nose Jean Guichard): A great underrated overly sweet fragrance hailing from the 80s, heavy on cassis (a synthetic so characteristic of that decade) over plums and heliotrope, it has an aniseed top note which gives it a piquant salty-sweet air there for a second (like those bands of licorice that refuse to budge), tantalising you to smell it again and again. It helps that it evokes so influential feminine icons.

*Mandragore by Annick Goutal (nose Annick Goutal, Isabel Doyen): To me it's not particularly evocative of dark medieval practices of uprooting a magical root under the feet of hanged men. It is mostly bergamot to my nose, although a good rendition, no doubt. A slight anisic touch is very welcome and I can see this being a great choice for warm weather for both sexes.

*Perfect Twilight by Creative Scentualisation (nose Sarah Horwitz) : Violets sprinkled with aniseed. No doubt inspired by L'Heure Bleue and Apres l'ondee, but simpler, more streamlined and ergo less of an art work.

*Pink Sugar by Aquolina: The brilliance of such a juvenile concoction lies in the details. A strong liquorice-like accent on what is basically ripe strawberries buried into the plush of burnt cotton candy reverts one to a mental state of My Little Pony, but if you're above average IQ anyway it will be seen as a terribly clever turn!

*Piper Negrum by Lorenzo Villoresi (nose Lorenzo Villoresi): Mostly strong pepper to my nose with a touch of anise for good measure. It has its fans and I like Villoresi's use of pepper in his other fragrances, but this is too thick for me.

*Poison by Dior (nose Edouard Flechier): A classic oriental encased in a poisonous apple of Cinderella tale bottle, it is greatly responsible along with other usual suspects of so many people's distrust of perfume. And yet it is a grand fruity oriental which uses anise to reinforce the spicy accord which juxtaposes the rich plum, tuberose and the berries and make it an grenade for olfactory amunition.

*Pomegranate Anise Fresh Index: Like its name suggests, two notes, one fragrance. An aquatic fruity with a liquorice touch due to aniseed and weirdly enough a grapefruit top. Index describes this fragrance as 'a crisp winter kiss'. I think not.

*Quand vient la pluie by Guerlain (nose Jean Paul Guerlain): Tied to the tradition of L'Heure Bleue, more than the similarly named After the Shower (QVLP means "when rain comes") it draws upon the anisic floral composition of the former in an effort to remodernize it with a fresh lime top-note on a bed of heliotrope, iris and licorice. Lovely, if a little too sweet for me to become a signature.

*Raving by Etro: Spicy (with nutmeg) and sweet (a touch of coconut) with a salty and iodine aroma which makes it completely offbeat and unisex. It might also make a good substitute for the intense spicy oriental Kenzo Jungle L'elephant.

*Rose d'argent by Rosine: An unconventional rose fragrance with a cool anisic touch and spicy geranium notes over warmer amber. It takes some getting used to, much like Caron's Or et Noir. The antithesis of cool and warm is magnificent to experience, like drinking a glass of water after chewing a cinnamon-mint gum.

*Shiso in Leaves Series by Comme Des Garçons: A trully bizarre, therefore typical CDG scent that recalls mint leaves on which animals have smeared their furry behinds. Cumin and anise dominate after the mint.

*Simply by Clinique: Roasted cereals without being too sweet with a touch of anise-bread just like local bakeries like to make. It was destined not to be a success.

*Tarot the Chariot by BPAL: Inspired by the deck of Tarot Cards, this represents the Chariot, which I am told represents the recognition of Karmic issues. I don't know if I have some of those, but sniffing fruity florals like this makes me think maybe I do. A touch of anise might save my unredeemed soul.

*Timbuktu by L’artisan (nose Bertrand Duchaufour): A wonderfully individual unisex woody with spices and incense, utilising the rare Indian essential oil Cypriol. I like how it interplays anisic tonalities in there and remains tremendously fresh while definitely redolent of human warmth.

*Yvresse by YSL (nose Sophia Grosjman): It's hard to imagine that formerly named Champagne came out in the aqueous 1990s: it's so loud! However among Grosjman's oeuvre, it's one of those who take a classic form (fruity chypre) and give it a modern twist that somehow smells contemporary. If only it came in a more diluted form, it would have been fab! As it is, it needs good spritz control.


Scents with star anise:

*Casanova 1725 by Histoire des parfums: Naming perfumes after historical personages, especially those who have a naughty reputation is a sure instigator of interest for Perfume Shrine. We succumbed and promptly ordered a sample of Casanova, after loving Marquis de Sade 1740 when exploring Leather scents. Casanova is surprisingly airy and delicate with "head notes of Italian bergamot and lemon, grapefruit, French armoise, lavender, tarragon, and rosemary; the heart notes of star anise, lavender, and geranium, and base notes of vanilla, sweet almond, sandalwood, cedar, and amber". Nice...

*Donna by Lorenzo Villoresi (nose Lorenzo Villoresi): A musky rose with a nail products top note, it is strangely pleasant, although a little sour perhaps at times. The musky background is very fetching to me, if a little standard.

*Energising Fragrance by Shiseido (nose Claudette Bernavis): A fresh spice accord that manages to be uplifting and -yes- energising. It's quite nice!

*Fire Opal by DSH (nose Dawn Spencer Hurwitz): One is at a loss regarding the sheer choice of DSH oils and fragrances. Someone sent me this sample and it registered as a gently spicy affair worth of inclusion in this line-up.

*Fraîche Badiane by Maître Parfumer et Gantier: If you want a cool, bright summery scent to wear under azure skies, this is very pleasant. Like drinking cool lemonade while snacking on star anise-flavored cookies after a hot day in the countryside.

*Iris Nobile By Aqua di Parma: This citrusy iris is one of the most elegant around and if you're bored with irises smelling like carrots, you should try this one. The star anise gives just a hint of warmth. I love it!

*Jean Paul Gaultier Classique (nose Jacques Cavallier): Drenched in orange blossom of the synthetic variety that can become cloying, it is backed by copious vanilla and musks and it makes me wonder why it has been such a best seller all these years. It does have a great advertising campaign though, which is so witty as to render the contents of lesser importance to the eyes of the public.

*Méchant Loup by L'artisan (nose Bertraand Duchaufour): A woody oriental for men with the unusual heart of hazelnut, only it doesn't marry it to chocolate to get the perfect Nutella. Which is a shame, if you ask me...A spicy touch comes from star anise.

*Navegar by L'artisan (nose Olivia Giacobetti): A watery interpretation that doesn't go for the usual marine notes. Fresh and reminiscent of the high seas, I could wear this in summer. Notes: red pepper, ginger, lime, absolute rum, black pepper, incense, star anise, juniper, cedar wood, guaiac wood.

*Rive Gauche pour homme by YSL (nose Jacques Cavallier): Purpotedly "a warm blend of bergamot, star anise and rosemary, centered around a masculine heart of soothing lavender, geranium leaves, and clove bud, spiked with modern essences of vetiver, patchouli and Gaiac wood." Now that the feminine is not as I remember, I could make friends with this one, despite its whiff of cigarette smoke. Or is it because of it?

*Un parfum d'ailleurs et fleurs by The Different Company (nose Céline Ellena): I had reviewed it among its sister scents ending on the note that "the whole is inspired by a French style garden which if you know anything about gardening you will know is about submitting nature to man's will; although the moniker of the company is talking about an ode to the virginal purity and the tentative voluptuousness of nature". It's a pleasant citrusy floral with a subtle touch.

*Very Irresistible and Very Irresistible Sensual by Givenchy: For some reason I remain sorely unimpressed with the synthetic rosiness of both fragrances. It's good that the spiciness of star anise makes a brief appearence but does it suffice to save to day? The Sensual version adds strawberry with what seems like patchouli. I didn't need this and neither do you.

Painting Old Absinthe House (1933) by Guy Pène du Bois and Paris Rainy Days by Gustave Caillebotte, both courtesy of wikimedia commons. Pic of L'heure bleue ad through parfum de pub and of Mandragore bottle through Annick Goutal site.

New Series: Absinthe, Anise and Wormwood

Our new Series takes you into the realm of the forbidden and the bohemian, the realm of the "green fairy that lives in the absinthe" and all the terrors and fascinations she produces in art and perfumery. Perfume Shrine has already tentatively shown a glimpse of its bittersweet, mind-altering magic through a music video by Nine Inch Nails a few days ago, which consolidated the idea of devoting a series to Absinthe and the herbs that aromatize it.
To do that, as usual, we take the long road to explore matters in depth.

Absinthe or "devil in a bottle" is a distilled, anise-flavored, high-proof spirit produced by distilling anise, wormwood (Artemisia absinthium) and various herbs (mainly florence fennel, as well as melissa, hyssop, petite wormwood or artemisia pontica, and angelica root). Its name derives from the Greek αψίνθιον, which is the name of wormwood, but is also interestingly tied etymologically to the Greek goddess of the hunt and the forests, Artemis.
In tracing the historical roots, one comes upon the medical use of wormwood in ancient Egypt (mentioned in the Ebers Papyrus, circa 1550 BC).
Hyssop, a usual ingredient in absinthe, is also referenced in the Bible: "Purge me with hyssop, and I shall be clean: wash me, and I shall be whiter than snow". (Psalms 51:7) There is however the hypothesis that the hyssop mentioned, used in bunches for purificatory rites and ritual cleansing of lepers by the ancient Hebrews, is probably not hyssopus officinalis used in the spirit, but a similar plant, capparis spirosa.
There are references to wormwood/la'anah as well: Deuteronomy 29:18; Proverbs 5:4; Jeremiah 9:15; Jeremiah 23:15; Lamentations 3:15, Lamentations 3:19; Amos 5:7; Amos 6:12 as well as the mention of "apsinthos" in Revelation 8:11.

What the Hebrew la'anah may have been is obscure; it is clear it was a bitter substance and it is usually associated with "gall"; in the Septuagint it is variously translated, but never by apsinthos, "wormwood." Nevertheless all ancient tradition supports the English Versions of the Bible translation. The genus Artemisia (Natural Order Compositae), "wormwood," has five species of shrubs or herbs found in Palestine (Post), any one of which may furnish a bitter taste. The name is derived from the property of many species acting as anthelmintics, while other varieties are used in the manufacture of absinthe.

~E. W. G. Masterman, International Stnadard Bible Encyclopedia (Bibletools.org)

Wormwood extracts were definitely employed by the ancient Greeks, who also consumed a wormwood-flavored wine, called absinthites oinos. The latter can be tied to Dionysus, for whom people masqueraded in an ecstatic frenzy during the god's celebrations in early spring. Anise plays an important role in Greek culture even to this day, through the similar preparation for ouzo: an anisic spirit into which water or ice is added producing a cloudy effect and "opening up" the bouquet of herbs.

Absinthe spirit originated in Switzerland, by Dr. Pierre Ordinaire, a French doctor living in Couvet in the 1790s, but it mostly became popular in France. Major Dubied acquired the formula from the Henriot sisters and in 1797, with son Marcellin and son-in-law Henry-Louis Pernod, opened the first absinthe distillery, Dubied Père et Fils. In 1805 a second distillery was built outside Switzerland, in Pontarlier, France, named Maison Pernod Fils. Absinthe's popularity largely ended with a ban in France in 1915, due to its neurotoxic properties that earned it the reputation of a psychoactive drug due to the chemical thujone, a strong heart stimulant present in small quantities in commercial absinthe. However no evidence exists that it is more harmful than ordinary liquer. Absinthe has known a resurgence in the 1990s, when countries in the European Union began to reauthorize its manufacture and sale resulting in over 200 brands circulating, although it is still controversial in the USA.

Although the absinthe distillate can be bottled clear, to produce a Blanche or la Bleue absinthe, the traditional colour has always been green, due to the chlorophyll in the herbal constituents in secondary maceration. Bohemian-style (alternatively known as Czech-style or anise-free absinthe), or just absinth (with no final e) is really wormwood bitters, produced mainly in the Czech Republic and is artificially enriched with absinthin.

Absinthe's notable role in the fine art movements of Impressionism, Post-impressionism, Surrealism, Modernism, Cubism and in the corresponding literary movements has been an inspiration for perfumers, helping them shape their creations and giving breath to la fée verte producing the 'lucid drunkenness' so coveted by artists. It is no accident that it had been the drink of choice for the "damned poets" and bohemians of the 19th century.
As a first tentative taste of the wormwood liquor attests, there is a journey to be had there!
But it is also intriguing to think that the name Chernobyl, the nuclear factory reactor which was responsible for the biggest nuclear accident in history, also means "wormwood", rounding out the biblical prophecy!

"And the third angel sounded, and there fell a great star from heaven, burning as it were a lamp, and it fell upon the third part of the rivers, and upon the fountains of waters; And the name of the star is called Wormwood: and the third part of the waters became wormwood; and many men died of the waters, because they were made bitter."

~Revelation 8:10-11

Ernest Dowson, the English poet famous for coining the phrase 'Absinthe makes the tart grow fonder' wrote his Absinthia Taetra on a trip to Paris. Here it is from La Fée absinthe site:

Absinthia Taetra

Green changed to white, emerald to opal; nothing was changed.
The man let the water trickle gently into his glass, and as the green clouded, a mist fell from his mind.
Then he drank opaline.

Memories and terrors beset him. The past tore after him like a panther and through the blackness of the present he saw the luminous tiger eyes of the things to be.
But he drank opaline.

And that obscure night of the soul, and the valley of humiliation, through which he stumbled, were forgotten. He saw blue vistas of undiscovered countries, high prospects and a quiet, caressing sea. The past shed its perfume over him, to-day held his hand as if it were a little child, and to-morrow shone like a white star: nothing was changed.
He drank opaline.

The man had known the obscure night of the soul, and lay even now in the valley of humiliation; and the tiger menace of the things to be was red in the skies. But for a little while he had forgotten.
Green changed to white, emerald to opal; nothing was changed.

In Francis Ford Coppola's Bram Stoker's Draculathe hypnotic effect of absinthe preparation leading to seduction is set to a mesmerising score by Polish composer Wojciech Kilar. (you can get it here)


The ritual of serving the bitter green liquid is clearly half its charm. The spirit is poured into a glass over which a specially designed slotted spoon is placed. A sugar cube is then deposited on the spoon and ice-cold water is poured or dripped over the sugar, diluting it to preference. Adding sugar is essential as absinthe is extremely bitter and the essential oils so prized can't come out of suspension by themselves. The non-soluble in water components, mainly those from anise, fennel, and star anise, come out of solution with the water addition resulting in a milky opalescence called the louche (French for “shady”), common in other anisic drinks as well, such as ouzo.

Other films focus on the green spirit as well: Moulin Rouge's absinthe scene is inspired by painter and patron Toulouse Lautrec's own habit of absinthe drinking in the historical music-hall of Paris housed in an old windmill.La fée verte takes the shape of Kylie Minogue, talking with the voice of Ozzy Osbourne.
In From Hell Johnny Depp as Frederick Abberline in pursuit of Jack the Ripper succumbs to the charms of absinthe and laudanum (tinctura opii). But its reputation for being an aphrodisiac is what influenced the scriptwriter for Alfie to include it in a scene in which a sexually voracious older woman (Susan Sarandon) introduces the womaniser into both absinthe and a taste of his own drug.
Lust for Life,a film with Kirk Douglas, also features lots of absinthe consuming scenes, as allegedly the drink was at the root of the painter Van Gogh's madness. In Manon of the Spring glimpses of the practice set in the French countryside can also be seen.

But possibly the film which most accurately references absinthe and wormwood in relation to those who actually made it a trademark, the 19th century "damned poets", is Total Eclipse, the story of the torrid, tempestuous relationship between Paul Verlaine and Arthur Rimbaud. Perhaps an unsuccessful film, it holds its special interest for those who are interested in the minutiae of 19th century style and mores.

Adding:An interesting article on modern day absinthe in the US can be found via The New York Times.


To be continued on that note with an exploration of such themes in art and literature and the olfactory pictures they conjure.

Pic of Johnny Depp from film From Hell , as well as label of Dubied Père et Fils courtesy of the wormwoodsociety. Dracula clip uploaded by Richardcontact1962