Boss Bottled Elixir: fragrance review

Although we tend to overlook Boss fragrances, if only because of their ubiquitousness and confusing names, apparently, they still possess the power to surprise us. Color me impressed, then, upon discovering that Boss Bottled Elixir is nothing short of an anomaly in the usual Boss range.

It's exciting, atypical in the roster, certainly night-time material, and with a dark streak that defies the 'fitting in' average guy profile we tend to associate with the brand. Call it a prejudice, but it's nice demolishing these with the hammer of Thor sometimes, isn't it? Boss Bottled Elixir was conceived by Annick Menardo, a beloved perfumer of cult hits, and Suzy le Helley, and that explains some things. The intersection of incense and cedar is a direct quote from the niche segment, while cardamom, with its cooling aura, lifts the darker elements of the labdanum base. Yet the dark base is unmistakably there throughout. It's booming like a bass coming from a car's sound system far away. The resinous-patchouli-turned-soil chord is dominant and deliciously done. Its smoky elements come through via the smokey facet of patchouli and vetiver coupled and reflected by the smoky aspect of incense. Perfect for nights out and great overall.

Christian Dior Hypnotic Poison: fragrance review and musings

The original formula of Hypnotic Poison by Dior was presented in a red rubber bottle (much like the 1990s Bvlgari Black fragrance, there was something about rubber in 1998, it seems), and I was expecting something similar to Bvlgari's potion at the time. The fetishy matte of the bottle was a nice touch; it felt odd in the palm of one's hand, as if it wouldn't "roll" enough. The smell nevertheless is what initially frightened me. The bitter almond was too strong for me, too medicinal, the wrong side of medicinal actually. This was not the medicinal chypre perfume of my memories of Clinique Aromatics Elixir (perfume review HERE), which I adored even as a child. After all, I'm no shy violet when it comes to Strange Smells. It felt heavily vanillic with something suffocating too in the mix; later on I discovered the culprit was the combo with coconut.

credit: suzumechan at deviant.art.com via

Coconut is forever tied in my mind with those horrible dangling trees that cabs used to come with. Back then when I was a child and we used cabs for travelling across the country from time to time, smoking IN the car, and with a child IN the car no less, was not frowned upon. The drivers therefore used to pack the most powerful scents available in the dangling trees car freshener horror: either coconut or vanilla which are weapons of mass destruction in the heat of Greek summer. Needless to say the memory of nausea follows me to this day haunting coconut scents ever since.

On the other hand, Hypnotic Poison is intensely powdery, a quality associated with dryness and grooming (more on powdery fragrances HERE). It therefore evokes a sense of pampering and cleanness, highly appreciated in warmer climates. Hypnotic Poison is a huge commercial success in both France and Greece, for what it's worth. What made it a definitive best-seller in Europe, and especially the souther countries (Greece, Spain, France...) is the fact that in a completely novel way, it reweaves the basic idea of grooming: that things should be inedible. It sounds contradictory when the main component is actually a bitter almond note, recalling liqueurs like Amaretto, but the intense powder in Dior's Hypnotic Poison suggests grooming and not stuffing one's mouth with pastries made of marzipan paste. Maybe a very naughty talcum powder to powder one's latex skirt before venturing out night-clubbing? The thing is, it works. Exceptionally so.

Hypnotic Poison is a perfect fragrance for fall and winter. It's seductive, yet not easy to decipher. Men seem to love it. Perfume lovers wink at you knowingly when you mention it. It's full of character. It's also approachable because of the almond, vanilla and coconut. It's also too effing much sometimes!

Lolita Lempicka eau de parfum by Lolita Lempicka: fragrance review

The playing field of fairy tale and dangerous complicity has brought us the poisoned apple. THE emblematic symbol of sexual provocation, thanks to Eve and the serpent, literally or metaphorically poisoned-laced apples have featured in a cohort of fairy tales to suggest a provocation leading to knowing one in the biblical sense; just not spelled out for kids' sake, you know.

via lulufrost.tumblr.com

Apple shaped bottles in perfumery are many, from Nina Ricci's 1952 fittingly named Fille d'Eve to Joop's All About Eve. The most recognizable ones are the Poison fragrances issued by Dior, the original cunningly colored to look like a cursed object. Hypnotic Poison amongst the line-up purposefully recalls the tale of Snow White, with its demonically bittersweet almond in the top note, which suggests something dubiously edible; would he bite or would he not?

It is the irony of the gods of perfumery that Annick Menardo is the driving force behind not only this bittersweet Angelica's Ring of a scent, but also of the second most popular fragrance in an apple-shaped bottle. Lolita Lempicka original eau de parfum was the first Angel-spawn to deviate from the Parisian amusement fair of chocolate-patchouli and cotton candy froth into an arpeggio that played pipes in the far away forest.

Beckoning you ever closer into the danger zone, with its violet heart candied with licorice, and shaded by intricate coils of climbing ivy which threatened to imprison you. It smells medicinal and weird. But also oddly appealing!

Not coincidentally, the apple has been a reference for Menardo herself who has confessed being introduced to perfumes via another, contrastingly innocent and tame fragrance by Max Factor. She puts a hint in her work here and there. In Lolita Lempicka EDP she overdosed the licorice with its anise-like tonalities to hide the juiciness of the apple in order to render a perversely mischievous nymph that entices you...just like Eve. It plays the little girl, but she's corrupted by the knowledge of the biblical sense. As marauders lie in ambush for a victim, so do bands of perfumers apparently.

Le Labo Gaiac 10: fragrance review

Perfumer Annick Ménardo does a Marc Buxton on us with Le Labo Gaiac 10; a sensual, diaphanous and creamy season-less woody fragrance with just the barest hint of soft, sweet musks and comforting, meditative incense in the drydown. Why so? Because Annick shares the beloved mixture of Ambroxan and Iso-E Super of Buxton's famous woody incenses and fluffies his somber yet clean style with the infusion of a hint of sweetness that lends come hither charm to the proceedings.: a delicate balance fit for an experienced trapeze artist.

Gaïac is a very hard greenish wood that isn’t as dry as cedar and that is subtle, profound, and stable. Le Labo’s GAIAC 10, a perfume extract that has been developed in partnership with cult perfumer Annick Ménardo (Bulgari Black, Lolita Lempicka, Patchouli 24) in 2008, is a tense formula built on gaïac wood and surrounded by muscs (4 different synthetic musk types in all), with hints of cedar and olibanum (incense). If you like the meditative, cool Eastern incense vibe of Kyoto by Comme de Garçons, you have good chances to appreciate that element in the Le Labo offering. The musks are the "clean" variety, lightly sweet with a faintly fruity tonality, with no funk or sweat involved. The woody background with a light peppery nuance is reminiscent of the base notes treatment in Poivre Samarkande for Hermessences and Bang by Marc Jacobs. (So we know it's Iso E Super that's doing the trick). And of course there's incense. Subtle, coolish, lightly smoky incense, contemplative and serene.

Essentially monochromatic, entirely linear but pleasurably so, I find that Gaiac 10 projects as a secret aura more than a fragrance: It's the type of scent to wear when you desire people to spontaneously exclaim "you smell good" instead of "your fragrance smells good".

The lasting power of Le Labo Gaiac 10 is amazingly good, about 12 hours and going on my skin, while the perfume wears close to the body, yet still enough to be noticeable at all times during a hug or a kiss. Marketed as a masculine, I believe it is in reality a shared fragrance and it would be ultra neat for lovers to share; just imagine the possibilities, assuming that the steep price point is not a deterrent! It is available in the standard basic apothecary style bottle and label of Le Labo, customized per customer and only available in Tokyo; unless you get the opportunity to catch this in the course of Japan Relief while supplies last online for a limited time only (find out more on the link).

Still from the film Der Himmel über Berlin (Wings of Desire) by Wim Wenders (1987).

Bvlgari Black: Eating Asphalt ~fragrance review

The car analogy on my previous post and today’s pic had been lurking in my mind allied to a particular scent and what with mr.Duirez doing a commercial for Lexus (Duriez is nose in Patou house), brought to my attention by Karol, one of my readers, and everything, this is as good a time as any to bring it up. I had referred to this perfume as a Mercedes S-class its rubber tires eating asphalt in a metropolis setting in my Scent of a Man list a few days ago and the comparison now seems anachronistic somehow, but scripta manent, therefore I am to remain blameless.
Bvlgari (or Bulgari, whichever way you want to spell it) Black is the weird oriental for men (and women; it’s one of those euphemistically called “shared” frags) who want something modern, sleek, original, definitely not the spawn of any other department store fragrance. Yet it is easily accessible, which adds an intrinsic value to people who live in places far away from hip Barneys, Les Senteurs or Body&Soul stores, so the poor chaps might actually test the stuff before commiting the monthly allotment reserved for perfume.


In Black’s case sniffing might be in order if you are unfamiliar with the modern perfume niche market. However under no circumstances is it strange or unappealing to wear. Polarising as it might be, due to the perceived hot rubber tires accord, I find it soft and vanillic, which is perhaps sounding like an oxymoron next to the "supreme exponent of the metropolitan concept", as Bvlgari wants to call it.
Created by Annick Menardo, the talented Cannes-born nose behind Lolita Lempicka, Lolita au masculine, Kouros Body, Hypnotic Poison, Boss and a co-perpetrator for Hypnôse (well, I am no fan, sorry), it was a 1998 sensation even if it never reached the upper echelons sales-wise. Although Dzing! by L’artisan created by nez extraordinaire Olivia Giacobetti launched in 1999 and is quite close to Black, it segues into other avenues of weirdness and wondrousness, enough to make it stand apart.

The bottle is a very fetish-y matte rubbery surface like the rubber watchband from their supreme collection, encasing a glass bottle within that is crowned by a steel top with the Bvlgari Bvlgari logo of their eponymous collection that twists and sprays. There are ON and OFF positions on it, in an attempt to make it look like a gadget or a driving equipment. The idea is brilliant, however people have been reporting that the mechanism has been found a bit wanting, since it can have a tendency to jam or leak if you try too hard. They’d better ameliorate this aspect. The current version exists in 40 and 75ml bottles.

Upon spraying this on skin a warm citrus/bergamot note greets you, soon to be rounded and smoked by the black veil of lapsang souchong tea leaves notes. Tea scents have been something of a trademark for Bvlgari, because it was them that introduced the accord with their Bvlgari Femme perfume and the tradition persisted along in Eau parfumée au thé vert (green tea), then thé blanc (white tea) and finally thé rouge (red tea). Seems tea is coming out in all colours of the rainbow, after all, and pity me who had underestimated it through my teenager years as the drink to consume while sick. Little did I know then.
Along with tea a strange and wonderful resiny aroma rises up from heated skin like smoke signs by stressed executives in their offices to the object of their affection along the hall. Has life become so hectic that we communicate in new ways and with new signals after all? Does perfume hold a special place in this new language? I think it does.
Proof positive that pretty soon the warm hug of rich vanilla envelops the cool smokiness and the whole nests in a woody embrace created by the combination of sandalwood, cedar and amber. No single wood is discernible for what it is, because the mingling is seamless and vanilla and some musk seem to overpower the rest.

Although Bvlgari insist to list oakmoss as one of the ingredients I have never smelled it in this and I doubt that now with the new IFRA regulations it will be included anymore.

Anyway, the fact remains; do you have an object of affection across the hall? Are her or his antennae tuned in to perfume? Black might help you deliver that message you have been wanting to across.


Pic by HelmutNewton.edu