Estee Lauder Sensuous Noir: fragrance review

This discontinued gem is shining in a deep purple bottle of sumptuous line that would match a wonderful smoky eye that looks so at ease on an autumnal night out. Sensuous Noir takes the good parts of Lauder's Sensuous (that idea of woody notes enhancing the natural scent of the skin) and taking it up a notch, adding patchouli with its dark sweetness interlaced like a shadow on said skin. More voluptuous, more intense, more sensual than the original version of Sensuous, the second version by Estee Lauder - Sensuous Noir includes characteristic wooden tones, an abstract floral hint and soft aromas of cozy oriental balsams that carry the entire composition.

Sensuous Noir has a stronger, more intoxicating and more seductive scent than the prior fragrance by Estee Lauder with half the same name, although the latter is also quite sensuous and silky and worth your time and money.

The top notes include a floral blend of purple rose, jasmine, rose oil, black pepper and spices. The heart focuses on the warm wooden notes, typical for this scent, with the use of the innovative Nature Print technology. The smell of "dissolved wood" in the concept, generated by pine tree and guaiac wood merging, was captured exactly by this technology, and used as a seductive note that was first used as a sensory note and complemented by the innovative Noir cream, lily flowers and patchouli notes. The base notes include benzoin, amber and soft vanilla with an amber overall scent. The final feeling is one of absolute self-confidence!


Please visit Estee Lauder fragrance reviews and news on the PerfumeShrine.com using this link.

Manos Gerakinis Immortelle: Treackly Burnt Sugar - fragrance review

The name Immortelle comes from the golden-hued plant of everlasting flowers (immortelle in French) or helichrysum. The scent of immortelle absolute in its raw state is difficult to describe, somewhat similar to sweet fenugreek and curcuma, spices used in Indian curry, with a maple-like facet. Quite logical, if you consider the fact that the substance contains alpha, beta and gamma curcumene. Manos Gerakinis, a niche Greek line that is aiming ambitiously and delivers in sillage and lasting power most admirably, tried to harness exactly this precious oil, the one from everlasting flowers.

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A cross between burnt sugar and dry straw is a rather valiant effort at conveying immortelle's nuanced profile, but the more the immortelle oil warms up on the skin, the more it reveals human-like, supple nuances of honeyed notes, waxy, intimate... It pairs well in chypres and oriental fragrances, where it is placed next to labdanum, clove, citruses, chamomille, lavender and rose essences.

In Manos Gerakinis's Immortelle niche offering, the immortelle accord takes on a sweet and deep aspect, with spicy accents, a dark gourmand. The cinnamon is pronounced, making me passingly think of a Middle Eastern dessert carré. The result is resinous without becoming heavy, nor suffocating, nevertheless. Benzoin, a resin with caramelic aspects, pairs with the rustic roughness of immortelle that recalls the Corsican maquis and Greek insular landscape.

There are some ways in which Immortelle reminds me of Goutal's classic Sables (probably the reference point for immortelle scents, for daring to be the first one seriously highlighting it) and of Serge Lutens's Jeux de Peau with its whiff of toasted bread and its subtly caramelized notes. People who love L de Lolita Lempicka and Frederic Malle Musc Ravageur might also find in Immortelle a trusty ally for their moments of daytime sensuous abandon.

The Manos Gerakinis brand has an official website by that name, where all the shopping options are mentioned clearly with international presence in the Middle East and Russia.

Annick Goutal Myrrhe Ardente: fragrance review

Amidst perfumes with dominant myrrh Myrrhe Ardente makes for sharp contrast. Indeed Myrrhe Ardente (perfervid myrrh) by Annick Goutal had a totally different approach than either Serge Lutens La Myrrhe or Keiko Mecheri Myrrhe et Merveilles. There was no attempt of dressing an apocryphal smell into classic tailoring to render it wearable by a modern sensibility.

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On the contrary, the element of myrrh was taken as a significant nod to the sweeping genre of Orientalism that marked the late 19th century and which almost singlehandedly - if we count Guerlain and Houbigant as those influenced by it -  gave us modern perfumery.

Camille Goutal then and her perfumer Isabelle Doyen began with a beautiful thesis proposition in 2007: how would oriental bath rituals of the harems (as seen in paintings by Ingres and the rest of the masters of the times) translate into scents? The sensuous Les Orientalistes line was born; initially a line of three fragrances for women or men which included Ambre Fetiche, Myrrhe Ardente and Encens Flamboyant. By the next year, another addition to the line increased the number by one: Musc Nomade; a vegetal musk which I count among my most favorites, built on ambrette seed.
They're all sensual fumes, molding themselves into the idea we have of the Orient and it seems to me (only a casual observation which might be proven wrong) that people seem to prefer either the opulent Ambre or the densely smoky Encens out of the quartet. My own preference lies to the outsiders.

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The Goutal fragrance implores us to look upon myrrh with eyes sooted with the blackest black of the lamp which burns lighting up the harem and to adorn our body with oils which speak of a thousand caravans carrying mysterious cargo across the Middle East. It makes me think of Loti; not Plato. The sweet facets brought out by the addition of benzoin and beeswax bring out a sticky "cola" note which is not at all at odds with the natural shade of the essential oil of myrrh. The gentle smokiness rendered by the earthy woody notes of vetiver is a welcome reminder that we're dealing with something that harkens back to the roots of perfumery; "through smoke".

Serge Lutens A La Nuit: fragrance review and musings

Dedicated to the night and voluptuous, feminine women everywhere, A la Nuit by Serge Lutens is probably the most life-like rendition of night-blooming jasmine in all of perfumery. The narcotic, star-petalled flower hypnotizes all who come into contact with it on a warm summer's evening, when the air is filled with promise of romance and sensual abandon. Heady, sweet, laced with honeyed and resinous notes that weave their own web of seduction, A la Nuit employs several different varieties of jasmine: Moroccan, Egyptian and Indian. Surrendering yourself to its temptation is akin to reaching erotic zenith...

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Jasmine is plentiful in southern Europe and northern Africa from where Lutens was inspired; lush, narcotic, dense with clotted cream at night-time, making the heart ache with its sweetness, fresh and bubble-gum worthy with green dewiness in the mornings. But while we, perfume lovers, like to mock and taunt each other about the fecal reminiscent particulars in it, specifically the combination of moth-balls indole and peachy-creamy lactones, plus many other wonderful and weird chemical additions that talk to our sensitive human hormones, hearing it being invoked by your beloved in an intimate setting can turn into unsettling quickly. How stimulating is the invocation of #2 in the bedroom? Not particularly for most, I'd wager. Let this be a lesson to test this glorious specimen of true jasmine first, before plunging headlong into it.

Created in 2000. Fragrance Family: Floral Oriental 
Perfumer: Chris Sheldrake 
Fragrance Notes A La Nuit by Serge Lutens: jasmine, grenadine, beeswax, musk and benzoin. 

Clinique Aromatics in White: fragrance review

It's easy to get immersed in the White Bear Problem while reading Clinique's laconic message for their newer fragrance Aromatics in White.

 Pretty. Intense.

 What does your mind "read"? Pretty intense, right?

As Dostoevsky wrote in 1863, "Try to pose for yourself this task: not to think of a polar bear, and you will see that the cursed thing will come to mind every minute."

In a way Aromatics in White is both things; both at once, but not one stressing itself upon the other.
It's a quite decent and very contemporary modernization of what has been the Great Dragon of the Clinique stable of thoroughbreds, Aromatics Elixir. The company is of course owned by the Lauder Group and the same IFF perfumers, like the legendary Bernand Chant have worked for both outfits ~the archetype is his handiwork, as is Aramis for men -another Lauder offshoot-, Lauder's own Azuree perfume and Alliage.


The classic Aromatics Elixir, is the scent that half of Athens, Greece, smells of. (The other half smells of car exhaust, lush jasmine vines, roasted coffee and charcoal smoke from diners. It'd make a pretty intense and pretty great perfume; indie perfumers take note!) Its commercial success is uncanny, for decades on end; it can't be just a generational thing, but something much more ingrained in the country and its cultural "chypre" heritage. After all history is a hard subject to shoot down...

Hardcore chypres are nothing if not head-strong, and thus the original is much derided, polarizing its audience; from mad love to "old lady" slurs of disgust, "a dream to some, a nightmare to others!".
The need for what I call "chypres nouveaux" was therefore latent all through the 2000s and the smashing success of Narciso Rodriguez for Her recalibrated what we consider a "modern chypre fragrance". (It's basically a floral woody musky and if you have guessed by now that Aromatics in White is one, you'd be more or less correct).

Consequently the senior Aromatics, with its dynamite rose-n'-patchouli core, had already been lightened with Aromatics Elixir Sheer Velvet Philtre Sensuel (try saying that quickly three times) from 2006 and Aromatics Elixir Perfumer's Reserve from 2011. The arrival of the new edition couldn't skip the sophisticated contemporary style that recently begat things like Si perfume by Armani or La Panthere by Cartier.

"I have always been fascinated with the magic of Aromatics Elixir and its attraction on the skin. I wanted to convey that feeling with a new, modern composition," stated perfumer Nicolas Beaulieu on the occasion of creating Aromatics in White.

Aromatics in White is particularly musky (and I'm glad fellow blogger Persolaise agrees), intensely patcoulisized and quite sweet in a sort of arabesque way, though not quite (no leaden "amber note"). Notice the prolonged, very pleasant powdery-soapy drydown that is simple but not simplistic. Its volume is turned down, yet its impact is keenly felt. And if you think you're not smelling it after a while, lean in cause it keeps itself alive on clothes like crazy.
All of these definitely put Aromatics in White into the contemporary map of worth-whiles (and the fluid, mother-of-pearl like austerity of the bottle is a bonus), but it might never really surpass the Sacred Beast that speaks the Charm of Making. Some things are immortal, even if they're not for everyone.


Fragrance Notes for Clinique Aromatics in White:
Top: Sichuan pepper, violet leaves, labdanum
Heart: rose, orange blossom, patchouli
Base: leather, musk, grey amber, benzoin, vanilla. 

The Different Company Une Nuit Magnetique: fragrance review

“But then fall comes, kicking summer out on its treacherous ass as it always does one day sometime after the midpoint of September, it stays awhile like an old friend that you have missed. It settles in the way an old friend will settle into your favorite chair and take out his pipe and light it and then fill the afternoon with stories of places he has been and things he has done since last he saw you.”
― Stephen King, 'Salem's Lot'

Even though the temperatures are nowhere close to bringing out the woolen-patch jodhpurs, the heavy jumpers and the nautical pea-coat I associate with a chair by the fire, I have played with a little light, merino wool scarf these past few crisp early mornings before the sun would rise high on the sky making me tie it on my purse's handle. Sprayed with The Different Company's latest launch, Une Nuit Magnetique, felt indeed like an old friend that I had missed. In more ways than one.

Une Nuit Magnetique by The Different Company looks dense and heavy on paper, as floral orientals sometimes do, but becomes a warm alcove of ambery woods on the skin, no rough edges, no hyper-sexualized dirty tricks. It bears the signature style of plush yet lightweight compositions for which its composer, the perfumer Christine Nagel, is acclaimed for. The sensuality of the cozier notes is unmistakeable, never cloying, a transparent "oriental" chord built on benzoin and rose with quite a bit of musk and a hint of what feels like the famous Prunol base, that enveloping material that gives a sort of raisin and mulled-in-sweet-wine plums tinge to so many classic masterpieces, from Rochas Femme to Shiseido/Serge Lutens Feminite du Bois, and on to modern iterations (see Mon Parfum Cheri par Camille by the brand of Annick Goutal where it's coupled with a very strong patchouli note). However the character of Une Nuit Magnetique remains ultimately undecipherable, despite the familiarity, almost an enemy to parsing.

I have just published a full review on Fragrantica on this link.

Fragrance notes for TDC Une Nuit Magnetique: 
Top: ginger, bergamot and blueberry;
middle: Egyptian jasmine, Turkish rose, tuberose and plum;
base: benzoin, patchouli, amber, musk and woody notes.

Jacoglu Oud Prestige: fragrance review

Finding a composition that manages to bypass the ennui of too many generic "ouds" on the market is a relief (for a small sample of just how many oud fragrances have launched in the last few years -1 in every 8 they say!- please consult the link). This I found in Jacoglu's Oud Prestige, a new entry, art directed in 2013 by the young and charismatic Jacques Jacoglu, by Parfums Jacoglu, based in Paris on the Champs Elysées.

The story of the inspiration behind Oud Prestige reads like something different from the usual flowery prose which garlands press releases with the asphyxiating tentacles of pretense. Rather Jacoglu was a valet in his early days in the Champs Elysées spot, where mysteriously scented Middle Eastern women went by, trailing behind them a tale of "A Thousand and One Nights" which beguiled him. Honest, eh? Jacques Jacoglu himself, judging by the last name, must derive lineage from the Eastern Mediterranean, which places his olfactory perception and acuity on a high level. Oud Prestige was something waiting to happen and indeed it is Parfums Jacoglu's first fragrance, so I'm looking forward to the next.

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The jarring introduction fuses citric elements (grapefruit to be exact) with blackcurrant, followed by a sustained woody heart of oud. The familiarity with the oud bases thankfully didn't detract me from the fact that the treatment here is mysteriously woven into a seductive trail rather than a sledgehammer of bitterness hitting you on the head like a ton of Band Aids for an hypothetically polytraumatized kid where that sort of thing would do any difference. Don't get me wrong: Oud Prestige is not an apologetic "I'm wearing nothing scented" kind of fragrance for when you are having that job interview or hanging out with the girlfriend "with allergies."

The oud woodiness is noticeable and long-lasting. If you're pooh-poohing heavy hitters and only opt for fruity florals or sweetish stuff, you should probably stay away, but women with a penchant for woody and oriental scents as well as men with an adventurous streak who won't be sidetracked by the marketing towards women will recognize that Oud Prestige is worth testing out by both oud lovers and those who have been having problems with oud scentss; a revelation of benzoin-laced goodness awaits.

The salty skin effect of ambergris chord in the base and the musky aura on the whole contribute to mollify and smoothe out any rough edges, creating a sostenuto which trails along, making people want to lean closer to catch a whiff and think about what they're smelling: is it you, is it something on your clothes, your exotic aura which bewitches?

Chanel Coco by Chanel: fragrance review

Coco by Chanel must be among a handful of fragrances on the market to have not only one, but two flankers without being a spectacular market success to begin with. Flankers are supporting fragrances coat-tailing on the success of the original perfume, borrowing part of the name of the original as well as the bottle mould, but differing in scent and target demographics. Coco has two: Coco Mademoiselle, an alarmingly successful best-seller for youngish women that has far eclipsed the original, and Coco Noir, a woody fragrance of recent crop with dubious presence on the market as yet. Today Coco seems old fashioned and aimed only at mature women, fading-to-market-black, but soon after it came out it profited of a marketing campaign that positioned it as a sexy debutante scent, fronted by then teenager Vanessa Paradis! Funny how perceptions change and we used to wear Ungaro Diva and the like when not yet out of high school, right?

The most astounding personal association I have with Coco has always been one that pertains to its market share, not the scent itself: In all my many years of perfume observation & appreciation I have never met in real life a person owning a bottle of Coco, a fact which had always struck me as weird considering the continued presence of the perfume on the counters. Chanel No.19 is also an undivided presence on the local counters (and a steady seller according to SAs), but I actually know people who wear it, I smell it on the street from time to time and I have seen bathroom shelves with a bottle of it proudly displayed more than once or twice. Someone must be buying Coco too, then, right?
But let's take things at the top.

Aiming to capture a more Baroque side of Chanel, taking the sobriquet given to Gabrielle Chanel by her escapee father and inspired by Gabrielle's Rue Cambon apartment with its casket-like rooms full of Venetian glass, Chinoiserie panels and leather bound books, house perfumer Jacques Polge set out to compose a true 1980s perfume following the commercial smash hit of YSL Opium: bold, brash, take no prisoners. And he succeeded in the most part.

The fragrant secrets of Coco by Chanel
One of the peculiarities of Coco is that it was among the first perfumes to be conceived not as an extrait de parfum first but rather envisioned in its diluted form of eau de parfum. The market had gone away from the more discreet, more intimate use of parfum extrait and demanded a really powerful spray that would announced the wearer before she was seen; ergo the eau de parfum (and sometimes the parfum de toilette) concentration, less expensive than extrait but rivaling its lasting power, while at the same time being extra loud thanks to the volatility boost via the spraying mechanism.

The secret ingredient in the formula of Coco by Chanel is the inclusion of the base Prunol*, a rich and dark "dried fruits & spices" mélange famously exalted in Rochas Femme by Edmond Roudnitska, which gives Coco a burnished hint of raisin. The cascade of honeyed spices immediately asserts itself: pimento, cardamom, cinnamon, cumin and clove, while the overall feeling is one of amber plush and resinous warmth (with a wink of leather) with the flowers folded into a rich batter and undiscernable. The patchouli (tucked into the Prunol base) gives a whiff of chocolate, though, in the words of Susan Irvine, not even a fashion innovator of the magnitude of Chanel would have considered a note reminiscent of a bedtime drink as worthy of consideration in fine fragrance. (One would perversely wish she had lived through present fruitchouli-infested times to see how she'd chuckle under her smartly cuffed sleeve.)

A Perfume Apart
Coco by Chanel enjoys something of a revered status among perfumistas, so it's not clear whether it should be considered an "underrated perfume" in the first place, but my inclusion in the Underrated Perfume Day series isn't totally random as it would appear on first sight nevertheless. First of all it was demanded by quite a lot of readers. Secondly, this is the kind of perfume that I should be theoretically crazy about (a spicy oriental in the mold of my beloved YSL vintage Opium, Cinnabar, Feminité du Bois and Krizia Teatro alla Scala) and yet I am not. Indeed I have been trying it on and off for decades now.

However when married with a huge bottle of Coco (extrait de parfum in spray no less) I had the following peculiar problem, for something so -allegedly- admired: I could NOT swap it with other interested perfumephiles no matter what! I tried everything: stooping to suggesting I'd trade for inexpensive eaux de toilette from mainstream brands, offering to supplement with generous niche samples, pleading "please take it off my hands, it's a shame it should collect dust, just take it already". No one wanted it. I finally gifted it off to a women's shelter where its whereabouts have been lost to me. The perfume lover who had sold it to me in the first place recounted to me the exact same problem: "I spent two years trying to get this thing off my hands; when you came along and showed an interest I couldn't believe it".

Is Coco by Chanel something that perfumistas like to reference but rarely -if ever- wear? Are its wearers merely nostalgic for the 1980s, a time they were young and more optimistic, and therefore owning a little bottle is just that, a memento of carefree times? Is it, finally, past its due and not that spectacular to begin with? I think a bit of all those things. One thing however that it did magnificently well was its advertising by Jean Paul Goude: Vanessa Paradis as an exotic bird in a cage whistling to the meowing of a big greedy cat outside and "l' ésprit de Chanel" as the tag line. Coco Chanel would have been proud.

For more perfume reviews of such fragrances check out the Underrated Perfume Day feature and scroll for more musings. 

*For modern takes on the Prunol type base in perfumes, look no further than Bottega Veneta eau de parfum, Chinatown by Bond no.9 and Mon Parfum Chéri by Camille (Annick Goutal).

Oscar de la Renta Oscar (original, 1977): fragrance review

Some perfumes the minute you put them on feel like you've slipped into a pair of black satin slingbacks or a silk peignoir in ivory. Oscar by Oscar de la Renta had felt that way to me for the better bulk of my adult life. In fact I used to adore the way it smelled on my mother, no stranger to spectacular perfumes, such as her favorites Cabochard and Dioressence. 

The original Oscar (1977) is a remarkably complex perfume, quite attenuated in its current formula compared to the grand dame that was the vintage juice from the 1970s and 1980s, which shows a remarkable kinship (and debt) to Coty's L'Origan and Guerlain's L'Heure Bleue. For this reason, but also for the way it extrapolates past and fuses it into the future, beyond mere nostalgia, it is of great historical value to see what makes it tick.

via parfumdepub.net

Oscar de la Renta's original perfume: a complex composition 

In many ways the introduction of Oscar by Oscar de la Renta on the market in 1977 meant a revival of the floriental bittersweet genre that the two classics had paved after many years of inertia. Despite L'Origan being formulated around perfumer's bases (i.e. ready made blocks of "smells" composed for perfumers skirting the issue of reinventing the wheel each time), both the Coty and the La Renta perfumes are resting on a basic chord of carnation (the spicy constituent eugenol is a key component of the perfume), orris, violet (methyl ionone), orange blossom and ambreine, all ingredients in about equal measure but for the ionone (which is doubly dosaged compared to the rest). Jean Louis Sieuzac, the perfumer of Opium (YSL), Farenheit, Bel Ami and Dune (Dior), sure knew a thing or fifty about how to create a frisson of excitement!

The floral heart however is particularly complex in Oscar de la Renta: the jasmine core (resting on both hedione and Jessemal), with rose, hyacinth and ylang-ylang included as well, produce a particularly sweet floralcy. The tuberose fragrance note is the mule's kick; purposeful, corrupt, expansive, can't miss it. Accessorizing notes of heliotrope, coumarin (the tonka bean note), musk ketone, benzoin and opoponax give a resinous, powdery and sweetish character that veers both compositions into the floriental genre (In fact L'Origan can be claimed to have historically introduced the genre in the first place!). The heliotrope and "powder" with a contrasting top (anisic in L'Heure Bleue, spicy in Oscar) are the basis of the tension that is so compelling in the Guerlain perfume as well. It's not hard to see how both can be memorable.

The addition of Vertofix (woody note close to cedar) in Oscar provides the woody background, with a small footnote of sandalwood and a mossy base reminiscent of the famous Mousse de Saxe "base" popularized by Caron. The powdery character is further reinforced through the resinous orris note and the mossiness. This contracts with the fresh top note comprising citruses (orange, bergamot and mandarin), basil, linalool and a fruity accord.

The above review pertains to the original composition which was prevalent throughout the 1980s and 1990s. Nowadays, somewhat attenuated due to "corrective surgery" (aka reformulation), Oscar is less smooth, with a harsher feel that doesn't lure in the way the vintage did, and less of its tuberose kick; in a sea of fruity floral sameness it retains some of its retro vibe, but it can come across as somewhat dated rather than wow, though the drydown phase is pretty good still. Lately the Oscar de la Renta house shows encouraging signs of picking up with its Esprit d'Oscar fragrance and its more "exclusive" collection of Luxuries fragrances, so I'm hopeful that where the botox failed the new generation fillers might prove successful. It remains to be seen.

The perfume's imprint

The progeny of Oscar de la Renta itself isn't without merit: Loulou by Cacharel (1987) owes a debt to the development of its tuberose and oriental notes to Oscar's floriental formula. The side by side testing of both gives an interesting glimpse into the intertextuality that is perfume creation; quotes of past things are happening in later perfumes all the time. Vanderbilt (an American classic from 1981) is also influenced, a sweet floral with white flowers in the heat (honeyed orange blossom, jasmine), heliotrope, vanillin, abstract woods (provided by aromachemical Iso-E Super) and musk in the base and a contrasting citrus and green fruity top note, but with no spice and very little coumarin or ylang-ylang to speak of.  The contrasting nuances help make the perfume memorable.

Etat Libre d'Orange The Afternoon of a Faun & Dangerous Complicity: new fragrances

Etat Libre d'Orange have stunned us with Jasmin et Cigarette and Like This. They have surprised us pleasantly with Fils de Dieu du Riz et des Agrumes and Archives 69. They have had our jaw dropped on the floor with Secretions Magnifiques in a most memorable way. And now, set for release for October 2012, the French niche brand is issuing something that has me reminiscing of the days when I was practicing for piano solos at the Conservatoire, listening from the adjoining rooms all the other musicians practicing as well; namely a fragrance inspired by a most famous musical piece, L'apres midi d'un faune by Claude Debussy set into a ballet infamously by Nijinsky.
And to follow, there's yet another fragrance launched in autumn 2012 stepped in the myth of original sin...

The symphonic poem by Debussy derives its theme of the wanderings of a mythological creature, a faun, symbol of the wild forest life, from another source too: the erotically charged poem by Stéphane Mallarmé, The Afternoon of a Faun (1876).

 "The pomegranates burst and murmur with bees; 
And our blood, aflame for her who will take it, 
Flows for all the eternal swarm of desire. 
At the hour when this wood's dyed with gold and with ashes. 
A festival glows in the leafage extinguished: 
Etna! 'tis amid you, visited by Venus 
On your lava fields placing her candid feet, 
When a sad stillness thunders wherein the flame dies." [excerpt]

The new Etat Libre d'Orange fragrance romantically named The Afternoon of a Faun is composed by perfumer is Ralf Schwieger (of Lipstick Rose fame) and will include notes of bergamot, pepper, cinnamon, incense, immortelle (everlasting flower), orris, myrrh, leather, benzoin. Sounds like the erotic dream of the amorous faun is passed on into the olfactory domain now...



 Etat Libre d'Orange also issues another fragrance, Dangerous Complicity, inspired by Adam and Eve and their loaded story in the garden of Eden; a charged olfactory composition that will create talk thanks to its ingredients if nothing else. Perfume Violaine Collas combined Rum Jungle Essence by Mane, ginger JE, coconut JE, bay essence, calamus essence, osmanthus absolute, Egyptian jasmine absolute, ylang ylang essence, lorenox (an aromatic woody-leathery base developed by Mane), patchouli essence, a leather accord, sandalwood, and Cashmeran.

music: Prélude à l'après-midi d'un faune, L'Orchestre symphonique de Montréal, directed by Charles Édouard Dutoit.

Etat Libre d'Orange Bijou Romantique: fragrance review

~You let yourself be impressed by that sailor with the pierced ear?

~But no...

Caïn to Pandora Groosvenore (nicknamed "bijou romantique" by said sailor) in Hugo Pratt's La ballata del mare salato/ La ballade de la mer salee comics book starring Corto Maltese

The French have a saying "le parfum bijou" denoting both the literal sense (a perfume carried in a jewel receptible) and the metaphorical (a fragrance that adorns and highlights the beauty of its wearer). Bijou Romantique by Etat Libre d'Orange comes with little of the irreverence that the French brand exhibits and plenty of the beautyfying factor. I'd call it féérique myself (fairy-like, fairy-made). It's delicate, lovely, and oddly savoury, breaking the impression we have of oriental gourmand (i.e. dessert-like) perfumes into tiny slivers, much as it was done with Etat Libre d'Orange Fils de Dieu, their other new release for 2012. Bijou Romantique stops just short of being "skanky" or "dirty" (in a good way) -see Amaranthine by Penhaligon's- offering a deceptive "bombshell" fragrance for those women (and the adventurous men sharing it) who demand that their perfume acts as morale boosting for those approaching them. An appeal as timeless as the beauty whose virtue has a "price far above rubies", a Scriptures phrase that serves as the motto for the company.

Composed by perfumer Mathilde Bijaoui it's no wonder; it was Mathilde who signed the critically acclaimed Tilda Swinton Like This, you see, and she's also the composer of that controversial ~but eminently interesting~ accord of fig and caviar in Thierry Mugler's Womanity.

With Bijou Romantique Bijaoui offers a nuanced composition that hovers on the precipice between savory and sweet, rich and satisfying, exploiting the subtle chocolate-like facets of iris and vetiver and contrasting them with the natural creaminess of vanilla and benzoin resin with a fresh lemony top note. Laboratoire Mane’s captive Evee ® molecule bridges the gap between the sweet elements and the soft rosy spices. As Bijaoui explains herself in an interview on French TV: "My luck at Mane is to have an important team of researchers constantly developing new molecules and finalizing new extraction techniques. Thanks to their extraction technique called "Jungle Essence" we perfumers at Mane, were able to create a new olfactory family, the sweet/savory family. The Jungle Essence technology allowed us to extract scents never extracted before: fig and caviar. Jungle Essence offers new possibilities, new scents, using ingredients non extractable through conventional methods. (nuts, coconut…) The Jungle Essence process produces a natural extract. This extract can be directly used in perfumed or flavoured compositions."
In Bijou Romantique the proceedings take on a darker, more complex character in the main plot, thanks to the inclusion of a musky-woody background where the sweet-liquorice note of patchouli is clearly detectable. Patchouli is of course a beloved niche fragrances element, coming back from the hippie 1960s with a vengeance, but in contrast to Nobril Immense by the same company where it's too potent, too sweet, here it's nuanced with the protagonist: the ripe fruity note of tropical ylang ylang and the soft rosy nuance of pink pepper.

Tender, inviting and multi-facetted, Bijou Romantique is like a nostalgic cameo pinned on the edge of a low neckline. Farewell Pandora!

The transparency and cozy gourmand factor of Bijou Romantique is sure to entice those who liked The Different Company's Oriental Lounge or Fendi's discontinued (but marvellous) Theorema and might be of interest for anyone exploring niche gourmand perfumes (such as the Micallef line Les Notes Gourmandes or those by Les Néréides)

Notes for Etat Libre d'Orange Bijou Romantique:

Bergamot, Italian lemon, pink pepper essence, ylang-ylang, clary sage, Tuscan iris, Jungle Essence coconut, Haitian vetiver, patchouli, benzoin, vanilla.

Bijour Romantique is available as Eau de Parfum 50ml at the official site, Henri Bendels, MiN New York and online from Luckyscent and Les Santeurs.

pic via http://ilmioblog-lu.blogspot.com and http://avozportalegrense.blogspot.com

Maria Candida Gentile Hanbury: fragrance review

The mouillettes by Maria Candida Gentile have been lying on my desk for several weeks now, aromatizing the air with their delicious mélange, making me nostalgise about the mystical splendor of wintertime Venice. They all speak in mellifluous voices that you really want to follow into the echoing cobblestone alleyways, over the silent canals. Hanbury, arguably the most immediately feminine among the niche line, presented with no sex barriers, exudes the uniques of Calycanthus praecox, one of the few flowers in blossom during winter time in the North of Italy. (Indeed its other name Chimonanthus literally means "winter flower" in Greek)

Honeyed, rich, with an intimacy that is reminiscent of early childhood games discovering one's sensuality, due to mimosa's sweet muskiness, it nevertheless stands a little apart from both other calycanthus fragrances (Santa Maria Novella, Acca Kappa) or cassie ones (Une Fleur de Cassie, Farnesiana). Hanbury is its own thing, a staggering vista of a Mediterranean garden; sweetly citrusy on top, lushly floral and nectarous in the heart, wonderfully understated and elegant in its base.

The name of the fragrance derives from The Hanbury Villa in the northern Italy city of Ventimiglia, which lies by the blue sea that has seen pirates and sailors crossing it for millenia. As if it smiled through it all, its garden grows beautiful mimosas that scatter the landscape with yellow pop-pops of joy at the drawing of each winter into spring. The charming Dorothy Hanbury still gathers the flowers for precious essences production.

Signora Gentile uses a very high ratio of natural essences as a perfumer, no doubt thanks to her Grasse training which coaxes perfumers into appreciating the palette of superb materials produced there. These are vibrant, quality materials which bring on what the human nose can only recognize as richness, opulence, lushness and this is evident in her whole line, from the balmy woody amber of Sideris, to the spicy decadent rose of Cinabre all the way to the light-hearted vagabond heart with leathery nuances of Barry Linton, inspired by Thakeray's character. These fragrances shimmer and present rounded, masterful portraits, as if lighted from within.

The intensely femme blend of Hanbury, poised on mimosa and calycanthus, is taking honeyed facets, with a sprinkling of sweet hesperidic top notes and a tiny caramelic note, softly balsamic, kept in check by the deliriously happy, clean essence of neroli. Hanbury keeps the floral element into a lightly musky sostenuto, which persists for a very long time on the skin; almost as long as a Med garden is in bloom.

Notes for Maria Candida Gentile Hanbury:
top: lime, bitter orange and orange
middle: mimosa and white honey
base: musk and benzoin

M.C.G. besides her fine fragrances sold at her online shop is the creator of some really exclusive and rare fragrances. Among them the Pinede des Princes for princess Caroline of Monaco; the La Posta Vecchia signature fragrance for one of the oldest and most acclaimed hotels in Italy; Satine, a custom blend for the yacht of Tarak Ben Ammar (first president of free Tunisia) and a custom fragrance for the Eco del Mare resort.

pic via hortusitalicus.blogspot.com

Guerlain Habit Rouge: fragrance review

Sensual, warm, elegant, Habit Rouge was conceived by master perfumer Jean Paul Guerlain in 1965 when faced with a surprising and novel problem. Men who loved Shalimar perfume on their wives and lovers wanted a comparable powdery composition translated into a virile structure they would claim as their own. Thus Habit Rouge was born, the name alluding to the red jacket landed gentry loved to don on hunting days in the countryside and henceforth adopted for riding competitions.

Guerlain of course wasn't the first to associate horses with perfumes: Hermes was there before (beginning as saddlers), but it set an example for others later on, namely Ralph Lauren. The important thing is Habit Rouge quickly became a Guerlain classic, the exact antithesis of Guerlain's Vetiver in spirit and stance; a  concept best encapsulated in a vintage ad proclaiming: "The Body, The Soul, a Guerlain cologne is for both" where the scents are described thus: "the agressive boldness of Habit Rouge, the understated elegance of Imperiale, or the subtle, penetrating depths of Vetiver".

The Scent and Structure of Habit Rouge
The magic synergy in Habit Rouge, a combination of resins and tree gums such as benzoin and opoponax, creates the photographic effect of a hazy glow all around the subject in an old black & white photograph. These resinous scents have the ability to deepen the voice, the equivalent of a lion's growl reverbrating over many kilometres to effortlessly mark its territory. Those elements form the basic oriental core of this formal, somewhat flamboyant but ultimately humanly sensual fragrance, lifted by traditional citrus notes in the opening (lemon, bergamot and mandarin alongside orange blossom) to mirror the idea in Shalimar, deepened with the spicy notes of cinnamon and carnation and burnished by the pungency of a little leather, which takes on suede smoothness rather than harsher or fetishistic nuances of hard-core leather fragrances. The whole smells like sweet orange talc, powdery and somewhat sweet. 
Habit Rouge is mature and dense, yes, but such a wonderful aristocratic classic that its acquaintance simply should be made by younger generations.

On a woman, it can be deeply alluring!

Packaging
Habit Rouge follows the Vetiver presentation until 2000. (This was the year the latter changed its looks dramatically) Habit Rouge took the simple travel container and red-capped sixties style atomizers. In 1988 it changed into the briefcase-inspired Eau de Toilette flacon design by Robert Granai. It has stayed there ever since, its red label modernised by a slight simplification.

2002 ad for Habit Rouge

Reformulations and Comparison of Concentrations & Batches
Habit Rouge was recognisably reformulated in 2003, as evidenced by the change in packaging, coinciding with the launch of the Eau de Parfum concentration. It's still a great fragrance however in all its forms and worth chewing one's teeth on, man or woman.
Comparing Eau de Parfum (one of the rare masculine fragrances to come in such a concentration) to the most well-known form of Habit Rouge, the long-standing Eau de Toilette, the two almost overlap in the initial 20 minutes, with the citrus & orange blossom notes  lingering somewhat more in the EDP. But after that phase the two diverge, with the EDP losing the orange blossom (which can give a soapy, clean feel), becoming spicier and muskier as it dries down with the addition of a modern "oud" note and a chocolate tinge, while the EDT retains the lighter "flou" character all the way through, making the EDT the perfect signature scent choice for any time, with the EDP being a bit heavier and therefore more reserved for formal evenings. It's also the most "modern" of all concentrations, somewhat skewing the retro feel of the Habit Rouge fragrance, so purists might want to consider that. The Eau de Toilette boast a big lemon-neroli accord o in the beginning and a soft, smooth suede note in the background, while on the whole it's the most powdery/dusty incarnation of the fragrance.
If you can find it, buy the limited edition Habit Rouge Parfum which tones down the powder and "cleaner" qualities in favour of a muskier, more leathery and camphor-nuanced scent like the vintage Shalimar meets Vol de Nuit.
Of special note is the traditional and vintage Eau de Cologne concentration, the original thing, which is the least "dusty" for those concerned with the powdery aspect of the scent, becoming crisper and more flesh-like vanilla oriental. The sensual aura of the Habit Rouge Eau de Cologne is surprisingly lasting, easily 6 hours on skin and therefore this is a concentration to acquaint yourself with if you're serious about perfume.

Habit Rouge also circulates in various limited editions (Beau Cavalier etc), on which we have posted news on these pages. According to Mr.Guerlain the batches come from: 1965, Dry '67, EdT '88, EdP 2003, Légère '05, Parfum '08, Sport '09, and L'Eau '11.

You can watch the official Habit Rouge L'Eau clip here.

Notes for Guerlain Habit Rouge:
Top: Lemon, Sweet Lime, Bitter Orange, Mandarin, Bergamot, Rosewood
Middle: Cinnamom, Patchouli, Pimento, Basil, Cedar, Carnation, Lavender
Base Note: Vanilla, Amber, Leather, Benzoin, Labdanum, Olibanum, Sandalwood, Leather accord.

pic Degas, Cavalier en Habit Rouge

Definition: Resinous & Balsamic Fragrances

One of the most elusive terms in fragrance terminology appears to be -according to readers' comments- "resinous" and "balsamic", as relating to perfumes. The raw materials falling under the umbrella of resins and balsams are among the most ancient components of perfumes, often the basis of the Oriental family of scents and lending their soothing opulence and depth to other families, such as the Chypres. They make their appearence known in any category though: florals, fougères, hesperidics also benefit from a touch here and there.

The distinction between resin and balsam is one of form, on a fundamental level: Simply put and generalising, resinous materials come in the form of solidified, gum-like "tears" seeping from the elixir vitae circulating into the bark of big trees, such as the Boswellia Carteri (which produces frankincense). Balsams on the other hand are trickly materials, not necessarily tree secretions, often coming as they do from flower pods or bushy twigs (such as vanilla orchids or the Mediterranean rockrose). But there are exceptions to every rule: Opopanax, though resinous smelling itself, actually comes from a herb, opopanax chironium.
So the real focus when referencing balsamic and resinous terminology is how the materials actually smell and how they're different or common in scent, rather than what their origin is. 
Therefore, for ease, resinous & balsamic materials are classified into 3 distinct olfactory profiles according to their aromatic properties first and foremost.

Soft balsamic smelling ingredients include:

• vanilla (from the vanilla orchid, the rich pod having a more complex rum-like note than the popular synthetic ethyl vanillin)

• benzoin gum (from Styrax Tonkiniensis with a sweetish, caramel and vanillic facet; benzoin Siam or benzoin Sumatra are used in perfumery)

• Peru balsam (coming from the Myroxylon, ~literally "fragrant wood" in Greek~ or Quina/Balsamo, a different species of which also produces Tolu balsam)

• Tolu balsam (close to Peru balsam, but a little sweeter and fresher)

• cistus labdanum (leathery, ambery, deep, coming from the rockrose bush and traditionally harvested from the hairs of goats who had grazed on the rockrose).

These materials have a gentle tone, while at the same time they're softly enveloping and have a pronounced character. They fix flowers into lasting longer and thanks to their properties when used in large quantities produce the semi-Orientals or the florientals (in conjunction with rich floral essences). 
A great example of a fragrance featuring copious amounts of Tolu balsam is Tolu perfume by Ormonde Jayne. The opulence of the balsamic note mollifies the rest of the composition, giving the golden sheen of a multi-faceted citrine. Tolu also makes floral notes more candied: in Fracas by Piguet it acts on the tuberose, on Gold by Donna Karan it enhances the ambery lily.
Compare and contrast with the balsamic base of Guerlain's Vol de Nuit which features a generous helping of Peru balsam; the oriental accord gives it its opulence under the green top note. In Ambre Sultan by Lutens, Peru balsam pairs with its traditional counterpart, an oriental amber accord. Elixir des Merveilles is another one which features balsam of Peru for its sweetly grounding qualities.

For labdanum, grab Donna Karan Labdanum, L'Air du desert Marocain by Andy Tauer, La Labo Labdanum 18 or Madame X by Ava Luxe: they're full of it.
The purest incarnation of benzoin in non gum form is Papier d'Armenie, the traditional scented little papers in a cute notebook, which burnt produce a clearing, anti-microbial atmosphere to one's home. Short of that, if you don't travel to Europe often, you can get a sample of Bois d'Armenie by Guerlain, or Prada Candy. Benzoin is very versatile spanning the fragrance families from citrus to woods and florals and its heft is therefore used frequently as it complements the other notes beautifully. Chanel's Coromandel fuses the vanilla-cinnamon notes of benzoin with a white chocolate note to render a delicious and sophisticated gourmand fragrance. Both benzoin and Tolu balsam make up the surprisingly monastic backdrop of Bal a Versailles by Jean Desprez, allied to the austerity of cedar.

If you are seeking a lush balsamic composition with multi-nuanced orientalia, seek no further than Mecca Balsam by La via del Profumo; it features labdanum, real oud and franckincense as well, so it's a composite that allows one to see how categories can be combined.

Vanillic fragrances are of course widely understood by everyone, so another article of a different scope, focusing on their merits and faults, is in order.

Resinous balsamic smelling ingredients include:

• opoponax/opopanax (also called "sweet myrrh" ~though no relation~ from the Opopanax chironium herb, scented between lavender & amber)

• frankincense/olibanum (the lemony-top, smoky smelling "tears" of the Boswellia carteri tree, called lubbān in Arabic)

• myrrh gum (a waxy oleoresin with a bitterish profile from the Commiphora myrrha)

• birch tar (from "cooked" birch wood, tar-smelling)

• elemi (a peppery, lemony, pine-like yellow oil coming from the steam-distilled or treated with volatile solvents resin of the Canarium Lizonicum)

• styrax (resin from the Liquidambar Orientalis tree, with a scent reminiscent of glue and cinnamon)

Valued since antiquity, resins have been widely used in incense and perfumery. Highly fragrant and antiseptic resins and resin-containing perfumes have been used by many cultures as medicines for a large variety of ailments. It's no coincidence that the three Magi gave baby Jesus the gifts of Frankincense, Myrrh and Gold. Traditionally used to make incense (King Solomon regarded opoponax as the noblest incense gum), even nowadays in the Middle East and the Mediterranean basin frankincense and myrrh "tears" are the incense par excellence still. These materials are deeper, with a lingering trail which adds originality and projection to a composition. Since they themselves typically come from the bark of trees in the form of crystalised resin "tears", they pair very well with woody scents.

If you want to get a taste of how some of the more "esoteric" of these smell, , say opoponax grab yourself the Diptyque Opopanax scent in either room spray or candle, as well as their Myrrh candle. They provide the scent in isolation. The iconic Shalimar as well as the masculine counterpart Habit Rouge owe their "flou" hazy effect in opoponax allied to orange blossom. For myrrh, Myrrhe Ardente in Les Orientalistes line by Annick Goutal and La Myrrhe by Serge Lutens provide two nuanced and quite different "readings" of the myrrh gum in complex compositions.
Athonite frankincense in the black variety is pure frankincense/olibanum gum (it's pliable when you rub it, like chewing gum), rising in clean, citrusy-smoky ringlets on the air; I burn it on small coal tablets regularly. There are many frankincense fragrances in the niche market, the truer perhaps being Avignon by Comme des Garcons, but the whole Incense Series is to be explored for the truly interested perfume lover.
Tauer's Incense Extrême is a good starting place for frankincense variants, based as it is on the Boswellia serrata (Indian incense) at a 25% concentration.

Birch tar is easily detected in compositions of the Cuir de Russie type (from Chanel Cuir de Russie to Piver's and Guerlain Cuir de Russie). This is also a material that can be classified in the sub-group of phenolic smells. It is pungent and dark.
Elemi is often used in masculine blends to give at the same time cooling piquancy and warmth thanks to its peppery top note: try Gucci by Gucci, notice the top note of L'Instant pour Homme (Guerlain) and the unique Eau de Naphe by Comptoir Sud Pacifique. For styrax, remember that the resin has a leathery facet with incense tonalities (and has been an important supporting player in "Cuir de Russie" compositions, such as Chanel's). Notice it in the drydown of Carven's Ma Griffe, in Poivre 23 by Le Labo and in No.11 Cuir Styrax by Prada. Lutens uses it beautifully in several of his scents, notably in the base note of Tubereuse Criminelle and Cuir Mauresque.

Nota bene that even though fir, pine and copal essences come from coniferous trees themselves,  I am not including them in the resinous and balsamic classification as they're really terpenic-smelling (a perfume definition to be elaborated on in a subsequent article).

There is also a sub-set of powdery balsamic smelling ingredients which do not come in resin or balsam form, therefore they are not classified into this category via origin at all, but rather via their scent profile alone. This includes: orris root (the Iris Pallida rhizome and also the synthetic irones-rich reproductions), several musks of synthetic origin, and carrot seed oil (which can give an orris scent in itself).
Amber mixes (refer to what amber is and its difference from ambergris on this link) can also be powdery balsamic smelling: the inclusion of benzoin (which gives a sweetish, baby talc note) and vanilla in the mix of ingredients in amber is the culprit. In French terminology/classification of orientalised perfumes they're refered to as "parfums ambrés" (even when not entirely focused on amber). For instance Obsession, the original Magie Noire (not the reformulated which is greener, more chypre) or Moschino by Moschino (again the original from 1987) are examples of perfumes "ambrés". It is important NOT to confuse between a balsamic/ambery powdery ambience (which is typically sweeter) and one which is powdery/dry (such as in Aromatics Elixir, Ma Griffe, Flower by Kenzo, DK Cashmere Mist): the two terms though very close are not interchangeable.

In concluding, the necessity of establishing a common language for scent among people who talk about the same perfumes increasingly arises. Even though we commonly use subjective terms to denote our feelings, the proper terminology, in accordance to how perfumers talk among themselves, aids a thorough understanding  and enhances our communicating our impressions on an immediately graspable context. It is this need which we try to address with our articles on Perfume Vocabulary and Definition on PerfumeShrine. If you haven't caught up with our relevant articles, here's what you might have missed:

• Definition: Indolic vs. Non Indolic
• Definition: Lactonic, Creamy, Milky, Butyric
• Definition: Powdery & Dry in Fragrances
• Definition: Soapy in Fragrances
• Definition: Phenolic, Terpenic, Camphoraceous scents
• Definition: Which Material Produces Which Note/Effect?

Photo of resin drops, some rights reserved by flod/flickr, censer pic via St.Dunstan's Priory

Prada Candy: fragrance review

It's been called "Werther's Original in a bottle". It's been called "Infusion de benjoin". It's been called "a vat of Polish fudge made of condensed milk" or "cajeta". To my mind, it's neither, though I can see where the assessments are coming from. Prada Candy is simply the most unexpected launch of this autumn coming from the most blasé designer brand. I defy anyone to smell it and come up with a definitive verdict in less than a week's testing. It just keeps you guessing, is this for real? 

There's something inherently sophisticated about the Prada fragrance line (the apotheosis being L'Eau Ambrée; in contrast some of the Infusions are limp-wristed to me) and though at first glance ~or rather, sniff~ that's not apparent in Candy, in the end you realize that it could have been Pink Sugar, but it's not. It resembles the best-selling Aquolina scent in some respects; the strawberry-flavoured caramel being melted in a hot plastic cup, at some intergalaxial fun fair where waitresses are clad in A-line skirts embossed with lip prints in pastel hues. That doesn't mean that Candy is not a departure for the brand; something by  that name in a pop canister resembling a pink-edged coffee press is meant to be sweet and teeny-bopper and not coming out of the mind of Miuccia with her Communism background, right? Is catering to lower instincts like hunger and lust an opium for the people?

But there's thankfully a certain comfort factor about the new Prada fragrance instead of just dessert sweet, thanks to the deft of hand of perfumer Daniela Andrier; it's a complex gourmand oriental with a balsamic, drizzling, sexy background that holds it from becoming a total "teenagers-don't-know-any-better" mess. I'm not entirely convinced it's the best fit the brand could come up with (and it's not "me", which might be influencing me), but it's got a certain pull-in factor despite the identity crisis (Watching the commercial with Léa Seydoux I don't know if I'm supposed to laugh or hide my eyes out of shame on the protagonists' behalf). In short, Prada Candy is that confusing phenomenon: a fragrance that doesn't fit with Prada's image (much like L'Artisan's original Vanilia with its "simplistic" ice-cream cone scent was incongruous with the hippy, boho style of the rest of the brand), but somehow manages to appeal all the same.Of course one could argue that Prada might slap their label over a bottle of water and it would still sell like hot bread. True.

The composition features elegant musks up top with the intense flavour of milky, creamy caramel mixed in, some of the caramelic accents reminding me of the upper edges of lavender's spectrum. That caramelic note takes almost licorice & tonka facets, complex, abstract, like a passing kinship with the original Lolita Lempicka perfume. There is benzoin resin in the lower range of notes (much like in their best-selling Infusion d'Iris scent), purported to be as much as 12% of the formula -which I find hard to totally believe as benzoin is a known sensitizer- that creates a moiré effect between cozy and powdery. Benzoin naturally possesses facets like copal, a smell between medicinal and sweet, with earthier components (Smell Guerlain Bois d'Arménie which is full of it) . This characterises the drydown (i.e.the final phase of persistence) of Prada Candy on the skin after the first half hour following spritzing. The musky "dirty diapers" note, like baby urine, creates a background of soft suede and darkness reminiscent of a lot of vintage fragrances (it's the sexy note in Shalimar). A sneaky wink. And this is exactly why Candy is not dumping the brand or just aiming at a younger demographic, as one would be quick to cauterize at first "reading" of this launch.
The sillage is nice and cozy and the lasting power very satisfactory, after a while it becomes a skin scent.
I don't think I will be buying a full bottle, but I will tuck in  many samples in my bag for when I want to (contendedly) get down and silly. Nothing wrong with that!

Prada Candy is available at Eau de Parfum concentration at major department stores, starting from £40 for 30ml/1oz. and online (check the selection of discount fragrances for even better deals)
ETA: A new flanker, Candy L'Eau, a lighter interpretation, is introduced in spring 2013. 





Photo of dulce de leche via pinterest.com

Prada Candy: new fragrance

A new mainstream perfume by Prada is always reason to perk up one's ears. The Prada line, masterminded by perfumer Daniela Andrier is full of elegant, sleek compositions that meld with the wearer's skin; modern, but not out there; restrained but not insipid; in fact some of the best no brainers for people with brains.

The latest seems incongruent going by the name only, being named Prada Candy (Odd decision! Imagine the Google searches!).

But the composition sounds rather promising all the same: elegant musks up top, benzoin resin in the lower range of notes (much like in their best-selling Infusion d'Iris scent) and a caramel drydown which probably is the reference point for the name. I hypothesize it will be meant as a skin scent, much like most in the line-up is (especially the lovely Prada L'Eau Ambrée) and not a tooth-aching gourmand.

The bottle reminds me of a coffee press pot for filtered coffee. Very Bodum!
Prada Candy will hit stores in August 2011.