Berdoues Cologne Grand Cru Assam of India: fragrance review

If travel-inspired fragrances usually hint at the region via their name mainly, then Assam of India corresponds to...India, naturally. As one might surmise it's an evocation of black Assam tea, typical to India, in this case aromatized by a tantalizingly mouthwatering citrus top note that evokes the bergamot addition of Earl Grey tea. Being a firm devotee of this very aromatic blend, the lacing of the southern Europe citrus fruit a welcome addition to the peaty scent of classic black tea, Assam of India by Berdoues didn't have to fight an arduous fight to earn a place of pride on the vanity table.

The perfumer set out in search of these black Assam tea leaves grown at a very low altitude – sea level – that reveal an exceptional character that mirrors India. It is the result of the unique blend of citron from Menton, tea from India and sandalwood from Mysore. The citron from Menton is characterised by very fruitful branches that bear up to twice as many lemons as other varieties. Its half-acid, bitterless flavour gives its essence intense aromas.

Berdoues Assam of India is exactly the sort of thing to pick up on a hot and sweltering day, spraying from head to toe to revel in the tannic and citric notes that cut through the humidity like a scimitar. Beautiful, extremely cute bottle too!

Berdoues Cologne Grand Cru "Scorza di Sicilia": fragrance review

Maison Berdoues is well known for their classic violet fragrance, Violettes de Toulouse, as de rigeur retro as a finicky collector would demand of their collection. But modernization, and Scorza di Sicilia is part of that project, is the name of the game for an old company to survive the times. Berdoues have been busy producing a collection of colognes, called grand cru to reflect wine phraseology, in order to catch the attention of the niche buying perfume lovers with an eye to heritage.

via

There's a dearth of fragrance reviews in the year that has been put between the original release of the grand cru colognes, 2015, and today, so I took it upon myself to write some on them having tested the line in detail recently. And so I'm beginning with Scorza di Sicilia, i.e. Sicilian rind. 

Contrary to the gorgeous sliced citruses painted on the columnar bottles (truly nice in person as well as in the photos) Scorza di Sicilia is not about citrus per se, even though the citrus is perceptible throughout. In fact the scent's character is quite floral indeed, taking lily of the valley as the sharp floral note that assembles the references that an Italian summer fragrance would normally evoke: the sun, the breeze, the lightness, the clarity...We all need a slice of sunshine in our lives, don't we.

Lily of the valley with its sharpness, clean aspect and green underpinning can act as an effortless bond between the bergamot top note (a Calabrian, if not Sicilian, reference) and the grassy-woody coolness of the vetiver of the base. I suspect white musk makes for the same cohesive glue, giving Maison Berdoues Scorza di Sicilia the starched, fresh aura that makes it so very amenable to a hot day somewhere where the houses are white-washed and the roofs tiled rather than thatched.

A note on terminology: Though "cologne" might evoke either short lasting power (and citruses are notorious for that) or a masculine effect I assure you that neither is applicable in this case. It's a rather decent eau de toilette duration scent that could be worn by either men or women in warm weather (I suspect it'd get drowned in the cold).

Histoires de Parfums Petroleum (Edition Rare): fragrance review

All the colors of a bruise: black and blue, teal green edging out in purple, fading to rosy, ending in ochre yellow like ancient parchment.

The electrical buzz of arc-welding, fiery orange sparks filling out the skies, the rusty mine of the shipwreck. The air filled with a mineral, scorched feel. The plank-plank of cork wedges hitting the iron ore at the loading decks.

A leather cloth, all smeared with wax. The musty smell of the hold of an old ship. He had his hair loose and oily with sweat and ambery brilliantine. My hand aching from trying to hold tight onto the lower mast. I said "I'm hurt". He should have said, "honey, let me heal it", like Bruce. Only he never said it; not in so many words.

John Klingel

Petroleum by Histoires de Parfums is Gerald Ghislain's story on oudh, the prophylactic defensive rot on Aquillaria trees and its resinous, nutty, woody, complex scent. Infused with fizzy orange, musty patchouli and a prolonged furry, white musk aftertaste, lasting hours, purring after the roar, Petroleum is the gift of the earth in an unassuming bottle. This oudh étude surpasses many others, in a masterful cadenza of chromatic tonalities: from black and blue, teal green edging out in purple, fading to rosy, ending in ochre yellow like ancient parchment. The chromatics in a drop of "liquid gold", in an old bruise that still aches when pressed.

DSH Parfums de Beaux Arts -Passport a Paris (from Passport to Paris Collection): fragrance review

The Passport to Paris Collection is a trio of perfumes exploring the fin de siècle (that is, the 19th century's prolonged swan song) which perfumer and painter Dawn Spencer Hurwitz produced in collaboration with the Denver Art Museum celebrating La Belle Epoque. Passport à Paris, primus inter pares, is Dawn's homage to the growling fougères of the late 19th century, namely Guerlain's Jicky and Houbigant's Fougère Royale; in a way closer to the real thing than one would expect, especially since the slimming regime the former has gone through via the rationing of civet. Indeed experiencing  Passport à Paris I'm left with the agonizing realization that this is the kind of perfumery we have been lamenting for lost, only we haven't quite understood that its salvation can only come through artisanship and a rebellious spirit coming not from the Old World, but from the New one.

Fittingly, the fragrance was inspired by a famous painting from the late 19th century, the eerily alienating, ennui filled Beach at Tourville by Claude Monet. In it a world of repressions the simple beachside pleasures are encapsulated with a silent tension (a sort of oil painting rendition of Edith Wharton's Age of Innocence), faces like a smear of paint, an impressionistic image of boredom or unfulfilled desires. In a way the perfume genre that got invented with the thrashing of the powerful new synthetics is a rebellious antithesis to that same ennui.

I'm not in the habit of oooh-ing and aaah-ing as I walk about the rooms in my home, but to my amazement I found myself doing just that (to the incredulous gaze of my significant other) as I had sprayed my wrists and neck with Dawn's magnificent animalic perfume Passport à Paris. Lovers of vintage Jicky, please take note. This is good stuff. This is amazing stuff. No hyperbole. A bit more lemony, citrusy up top maybe than the Guerlain classic, especially in the modern form, but soon opening to a gorgeous meowling heart of lavender, dark jasmine and rich civet paste, smooth, hay-like and plush thanks to the conspiracy of vanillin and coumarin, an orientalized unisex more than just a masculine trope reminiscent of shaving cream (if that's your idea of fougère, that's not it by a mile).
Passport à Paris is also tremendously lasting on the skin and, really, just beautiful.

I'm of the belief that too many words cheapen the experience of savoring a sensual pleasure for yourself; a bit of "analysis-paralysis", if you will. So I'm leaving you with one directive and one directive only: try it. Like, right now!


Notes for Parfums de Beaux Arts Passport à Paris:
Lemon, bergamot, French lavender, rosewood, mandarin, grandiflorum jasmine, Bulgarian rose, orris root CO2, Clover, Australian sandalwood, amber, vanillin, coumarin, ambergris, East Indian patchouli, civet

Available in the DSH e-boutique (samples start at just 5$)

In the interests of disclosure I was sent a sample by the perfumer. 

Acqua di Parma Colonia Assoluta 10th anniversary Editione Speciale 2013: fragrance review & free perfume bottle givaway

Husks of cardamom, crashed and fragrant, in my pocket. A window opening up to a vista of green pines overlooking the Mediterranean azure blue under the crisp but smiling sun of noon. The scent of clean linen dried in the fresh air in the breeze and the human warmth of a worn wool sweater approaching. Zesty citrus as when you scrap a bitter orange with your nails. Scattered writings on the desk, unfinished phrases, small notes of random thoughts. Pencil shavings in an ashtray, abandonded and lonely. A beautiful stem of jasmine cut and browning by the hour. Safety. Serenity. Solace.

When in 2003 the formidable collaboration of perfumers Jean Claude Ellena and Bertrand Duchaufour came up with the original Colonia Assoluta for Acqua di Parma the feat wasn't announced with fanfare. But now that the classical Cologne has re-emerged from the attic as the eternal sine qua non of Southern European elegance and proper grooming, when totally modern spins on this time-honored genre, such as GS03 (Biehl Parfumkunstwerke), as well as more traditional ones, like Chanel Eau de Cologne, draw our attention, rediscovering this refined gem in a gorgeous presentation for its 10th anniversary is occasion for rejoicing.

Acqua di Parma assures us that more than ten ingredients are of a natural origin in their Colonia Assoluta: Calabrian bergamot, red orange, orange blossom, jasmine, lavender, rosemary, Virginia cedar and sandalwood. Less citrusy than the original Colonia, more emphatically aromatic and mossier, the way Cartier Declaration is mossy under the cardamom cool spiciness, Colonia Assoluta is everything I picture a graceful man (or a woman who loves using shared fragrances) of my culture wearing.

The bottle design for the Colonia Assoluta 10th anniversary isn't just random: This special edition decorated with graphic signs is inspired by the moving spokes of a bicycle. The original pattern was designed by Acqua di Parma to convey the contemporary feel of this particular Eau de Cologne and its users, modern men around town, atop their bicycle. The original motif is reproduced in the bottle and case with the spokes stretching across the surface in silver hues, the distinctive colour of Colonia Assoluta. It is through a special craft that the spokes are engraved on the glass surface in order to create light and dark contrasts serving as an elegant expression of the sophisticated scent itself. Light contrasts keep changing with every motion of the large sized 180ml bottle, offered in the refillable version to last in time. 

Notes for Acqua di Parma Colonia Assoluta:
Top: bergamot, bitter orange, sweet orange and lemon verbena
Heart: jasmine, vetiver, ylang-ylang, cedar, cardamom, pink pepper and paprika
Base: patchouli, oakmoss, white musk, sandalwood and resins

Please note this isn't the first special edition for Colonia Assoluta: there is also Editione Riviera (2007), Editione Speciale 2011 and Colonia Assoluta in Villa (2009). This 10th anniversary edition is code-named Colonia Assoluta Editione Speciale 2013.

To make this 180ml/6oz bottle you see in the picture yours, please post a comment saying whether you bicycle or not (and why) and if you have any favorite associations with bicycles. Mine will forever be Ladri di Biciclette by Vittorio de Sica.
Draw is open internationally till Sunday 10th October midnight and the winner will be announced on Monday.

Le Labo Limette 37 (San Francisco exclusive): fragrance review

One of my better English teachers was a longtime resident of San Francisco; in fact she had met her husband in the City by the Bay, which, given the place's gaydar and the couple's subsequent breakup -due to his not wanting children, ever- might have been an ominous sign she might have noticed beforehand. But the fact remains -and I was reminded of it recently coming across Limette 37 by Le Labo- that I was tenderly and gingerly spoon-fed from a very young age the pure magic that this most cinematic of American cities presents: the Golden Bay bridge, the roads going up & down, perfect for car chase scenes such as in Bullitt, Basic Instinct and Jade, the small cafes, the buildings charmingly retro (and almost never do they hide a wacko like in Pacific Heights), the fishermen and the earthquakes (that last bit so eerily familiar to my Greek existence that I felt like kin) and of course the dolly zoom distorted views from Vertigo...Ah, my heart sighs.

Come to think of it, and with the eyes of a foreigner, it's always amazing how much a film depiction of a place creates an impression that is different and yet at the same time somehow captive of its innermost charm (Admit it, didn't any of you fall all over in love again with London upon watching this scene from The Parent Trap with the lovely The Las song in the background? OK, I digress, but...)
So, if like me you have always dreamt of San Francisco as an impossible ectoplasm rather than a real place you can step your foot on, you might have had higher expectations from a fragrance sold exclusively there. You might have even though it would "represent" this eidolon, though obviously Le Labo didn't (and wouldn't) go there. {The folks state it so ever so clearly on their site, man: "Don't expect Le Labo's San Francisco exclusive to be a chilly summer fog essence or the Golden Gate in a bottle. Limette 37's reference to The City is abstract"}

Limette 37 is certainly not unpleasant; in fact it is quite pleasant indeed (and absolutely unisex in feel) and I bet it would go down well with lots of people and have random folks pronounce "you smell good!" blah blah blah. The opening is nicely cologne-y with bergamot and petit-grain, slightly bitter and surprisingly softened with coolish vetiver. A small segment of warmth is peeping through, a touch of spice, a little sweetness reminding me of innocent linden flowers, just so. Upon drying down Limette 37 reveals lots of subtle, creamy clean musks that have a humming tenacity (and which are almost the only thing left at the mark of 2 hours's wear, perfect cover-up if you have seriously embraced the hippie "naturalness" popular in SF in the 1960s if you know what I mean, and a pain in the butt if you require your expensive perfumes to smell for longer than that).

My gripe is that you can probably achieve that effect with lots of other scents on the market (see our Skin Scents article for more fragrance suggestions, including some from the same company), without forking the big bucks for an exclusive release, nor having to jump through hoops to get to San Francisco to buy this latest Le Labo fragrance. In fact being sandwiched into the summer 2013 release trio by Le Labo, the other two being the excellent Ylang 49 and Lys 41, Limette 37 is even more leaving something to be desired.

For that reason, Limette 37 can't go into my "must own" list. Whether it will go into yours is a question of means (in both senses of the word) vs. opportunity. Currently and only up till October 15th, the Le Labo city exclusives are available online at the Le Labo site.

Official notes for Le Labo Limette 37: bergamot, petit-grain, jasmine, clove, vetiver, musk, tonka bean.

For those paying attention to visuals: stills are (of course) from top to bottom from the films Bullitt, Jade, Vertigo and Basic Instinct. I decided to use some of the less predictable shots from those (opting for black & white in two cases), in order to convey the non representative nature of it all. The scent is nothing like the reputation of either film and is its own thing. I just plead to be allowed to have my fun, that's all. 

Hermes Hermessence Epice Marine: new fragrance preview

The sea accord is sweet. The smell coming from the bed of the ocean and the misty fog in Brittany is not. To evoke therefore the changing scenery of Mont Saint Michel which recalls seascapes by Turner and pirate adventures full of spices, wooden floors and smoked woods, in house Hermès perfumer Jean Claude Ellena pairs an algae & smoky whisky accord with spices to render a "spicy marine" fragrance, namely Epice Marine (which translates exactly like that). Marine fragrances are the anathema of many a hard-core perfume aficionado, mainly due to the prevailing of this genre during the 1990s, a landmark for perfumery which created with its deeply artificial nuance as many foes as it did acolytes. But if there is one illusionist able to shutter biases and make perfumephiles see things anew, it is without doubt Ellena. And that's what he does in his latest Hermessence; beyond the sea, but not far from it all the same.

Epice Marine, the 11th Hermessence fragrance, is inspired on the one hand by the Saint-Malo milieu, full of celtic traditions and the marine songs of the changing scenery of Mont Saint Michel, that is so familiar to Olivier Roellinger (3 stars Michelin chef & owner of Maisons de Bricourt in Cancale) and on the other hand by the Provencal countryside of Cabris where Hermès perfumer Jean Claude Ellena spends his days immersed in the serene Mediterranean blue. The conversation between these two opposing, and yet converging worlds, took the course of a passionate and prolonged epistolary exchange of views between the two men during the course of many months, starting with Roellinger's invitation to Ellena in october 2011 to come over at Cancale at La Maison du Voyager (the voyager's mansion) where the chef grew up and keeps his spice & savory archives for his restaurants.

pic provided to PerfumeShrine via Hermes

An idea begins to take shape in Ellena's mind as he listens to his friend recount the seafaring adventures required to amass and distribute green cardamom and Sichuan pepper on the Spice Route during the 16th century and the trafficking conducted by pirates. Contrary to bourgeois perfumery, which uses several accords and complicated combinations "to render an effect", Ellena likes to zero-in on the essentials, rendered in an artistic way which allows to highlight unexpected facets.

Toasted cumin grains, sent from Cancale to Cabri, seal the deal for the new concept: Epice Marine will focus on this polarizing note which is central to the adventures of seafaring. But contrary to the usual cumin essence which has a tendency to recall human sweat to some people, this toasted cumin variety renders an aromatic oil which is human-smelling all the same, carnal and skin-like, as Ellena divulges, but in a very sensual tonality. Ellena has this spice distilled to render an essential oil which encompasses notes of toasted bread, hazelnut, sesame; these nuances are deeply exciting to Ellena, who proceeds to write to Roellinger to relay his appreciation and to inform him that he is continuing, with a bigger order for the toasted spice, allied with cinnamon and cardamom.

via aromo.ru

Epice Marine by Hermès also uses a generous helping of bergamot to give a vibrant start. To that he has added a synthetic molecule which recalls algae, a more oceanic feel than the sea accord. This is done intentionally as the "sea" note is sweeter than the ocean at Brittany (la Bretagne), which is drier, saltier, more savory. The coupling of the algae note with the spice manages to evoke that. But one thing is missing... The scent of the marine mist, that deep humid scent that comes out of the seabed. This is the definitive accent, provided by a smoky, peaty note of whisky constructed anew by Ellena himself, specifically inspired by the Bruichladdich whisky (a gorgeous single malt from the Hebrides with elegant floral notes). It evokes the boiled buckwheat and the North-East winds of the foggy Brittany.

After 24 mods, the perfumer is still not satisfied with the development of the composition. The smokiness and the oceanic notes seem a little flat to him. He reworks the oakmoss essence variety used in the base, deducts the vetiver variety used previously, and works on a source water "note" to lessen the salty aspect of the fragrance. It is now March 2012. In two months the finished fragrance will be ready but it will take a while to see the light of day: in September 2013 Epice Marine will hit the boutiques. The adventure begins...

 certain notes thanks to Sybille Grandchamp of Vanity Fair France, translated by the author.

Tauer Perfumes Noontide Petals: fragrance review & draw for (unreleased yet) samples

From the noontide sun depart
Here belov'd awhile repose
And the murmurings of my heart
Let me tenderly disclose,
to my forest rose.[1]

Alles ist Licht (Everything is light)

Source: google.com via Perfumshrinee on Pinterest

Writing the first review on Noontide Petals, the as yet unreleased newest Tauer perfume, means I get to -in a way- shape how the fragrance might be examined by those who will experience it next. So if I were to give a direct image it would be light, blinding light scattered through a vitrail pane with geometrical designs, imbuing everything in its path, softening the delineations of objects, creating a haze of happy numbness. It was Luca who had long ago envisioned an apparition of light in regards to a Bernand Chant composition: seraphic angels singing a concert of clean notes with bits of an organic chemistry treatise and a woman dressed in white, with an impeccable silvery blow-dry, descending from the skies smiling, like an Atlantis TV-hostess. Different though the scent in question may be, the impression is nonetheless simpatico to the one that Noontide Petals created in me upon smelling it. This hugely aldehydic floral fragrance is simultaneously clean, very floral and sweetish in the White Linen, Estee by Lauder (a Bernand Chant composition, by the way) and Chanel No.22 mold, with that impeccably "coifed" feel of retro aldehydics, of which Tauer's Miriam fragrance was one great paradigm. In fact the turn that Noontide Petals takes for a while after the initial spray is referencing a segment off Miriam, with an even more retro, more sparkling soapy manner than the rather more soft-spoken Miriam.

Geranium and ylang ylang are commonly used as modifiers to leverage the intensity of the fatty aldehydes in classic fragrances. The trick works; a ton of aldehydes is almost too much to stomach without it, such is their engine combustion for flight that you feel like you're straddling the side wing of a Boeing 747. This sheen opens up the flowers, giving them the propensity to unfurl unto the ether. A giant rose is immediately perceived in Noontide Petals, much like in White Linen or No.22, soapy and warm, bright yellow [2] and strikingly spring-like under the winter sun. The citrusy touch on top serves as balance to the sweet floralcy of white petals (natural jasmine and tuberose), cradled into a soft, perfume, posh base with a warm, very lightly smoky effect that recalls things like Chanel, Van Cleef & Arpels and other insignia of class and refinement of another era. Simply put, Noontide Petals makes me want to press my jeans, break out the Hermès scarfs and the long, 20s sautoirs of shiny pearls and go out for a morning sip of champagne for breakfast and laugh and laugh with spirited company.

copyright Andy Tauer for Tauer Perfumes

In short, if you're a lover of aldehydes in perfumes and have been longing for a good, potent, gorgeous dosage to hit you over the head in infinite style, look no further than Noontide Petals. If you have a problem with aldehydic florals you should also try it for the heck of it: it's definitely an impressive fragrance, very well crafted. For those of you who have identified a "Tauerade" base common in most of Andy's work, I can see no sign of it here, as I couldn't see it in Miriam either. In that way these are fragrant releases apart. But none the less beautiful for it!

For our readers, 3 samples of the unreleased fragrance by Tauer: Enter a comment, saying what you would most like or dislike about aldehydes, and I will draw three winners. Draw is open internationally till Tuesday 19th midnight. Winner will be announced on Wednesday.

[1]Rexford, George C., compiler and arranger; Lover, S.; Woodburry, I. B.; Thomas, J. R.; Wurzel, G. F.; Lavenu. Beadle's Dime School Melodist: A Choice Selection of Familiar and Beautiful Songs, Duets, Trios, Etc. Arranged in a Simple Manner for School Singing, with Elementary Instructions Suited to Children of the Most Tender Age . New York: Irwin P. Beadle and Co., 1860. [format: book], [genre: song]. Permission: Newberry Library Persistent link to this document: http://lincoln.lib.niu.edu/file.php?file=beadle.html
[2]It could be Pantone 7404

Gucci Premiere: fragrance review

Gucci Première represents the culmination of perfumery catering to those, on the one hand, sick of too candy-like creations, but, on the other hand, not yet ready to step into more challenging stuff. At all times pleasant, bon chic bon genre, and discreet like the perfect secretary, it adds itself to the category of woody musky fragrances with citrus overtones. The latter might tempt men sharing the bottle as well despite the feminine focus of the images accompanying it. Without being dated, Première isn't ground-breaking new, but I bet that might prompt it being picked for gift giving; it's hard to beat something that offends no one! This of course can be a serious drawback too: One can end up pleasing no one enough.

The official description stresses the glamorous element, but Gucci Première seems to me the kind of fragrance that gets one through every day, a sort of "I don't think about it too much" perfume layer that becomes part of you rather than pronouncing its presence via a complicated, intellectualized plot. To cut a long story short, it's the sort of thing that doesn't make any demands on you, take it or leave it, it's rather expected and -dare I say it- a bit boring. The dominating notes are bergamot and clean musks, clean like the ambassadress who represents it in the 40s-glamorous advertising photos, Blake Lively.
Woods and warm ambery musks coat-tail the crystalline floral chord (with a hint of white petal lily) under the first impression of fresh citrus and settle down on the skin with a softness that is surprising for such a composition. After all, the genre begat by Narciso Rodriguez For Her isn't known for its low sillage! Gucci Première however, for better or for worse, depending on your particular viewpoint, remains at all times subtle, even fleeting (it has the lasting power of an eau de toilette rather than what it is presented as, which is eau de parfum). No harshness in the leather note at all either, to the point where it shouldn't raise a brow by the cuir-o-phobics, i.e. those with a problematic relationship with the pungent leather fragrances. More's the pity for us leather fiends!

Beautiful bottle in gold with the familiar charms by Gucci.

According to the official blurb on Escentual, where the new Gucci fragrance is available: "Inspired by the Gucci Première Couture collection that debuted at the 2010 Cannes Film Festival, Creative Director Frida Giannini conceived a new fragrance legend in the iconic and sophisticated form of Gucci Première. Première is the scent of a woman who is accustomed to coming first, whether in her career or in her love life. She makes the same exceptional demands of her perfume, wanting only the very best for every occasion. Just as a leading lady graces the red carpet with her couture Gucci gown, so every woman deserves her Gucci Première moment".

Notes for Gucci Première eau de parfum:
Top Notes: Bergamot, Orange Blossom
Heart Notes: White Flowers, Musk
Base Notes: Leather, Wood

Parfums Weil Chunga: fragrance review & history

To understand the demise of Chunga is to realize that it is truly unmarketable in today's world: For a feminine perfume it flunks the test of being traditionally pretty or particularly becoming, demanding too much out of its wearer in both intelligence and attitude (After all it was advertised with the slogan "for women who want the world"). For a masculine (and men would be wise to try it if they can get their hands on some) it is an alien thing, being neither fresh -as is the majority of aquatic and aromatic fougeres around-, nor sexy -as are the orientalized woodies with succulent tonka and lots of sweet amber in the base. Maybe only Philip K. Dick replicas can wear Chunga by Weil right now, aside from dedicated perfumistas that is, which misses marketability points big time. But it's a shame, I can tell you that, because Chunga is a great fragrance coming from a great perfume house, the Weil fourruriers. (champions of the parfum fourrure notion)

The name comes from Micaela Flores Amaya, a Romani-born flamenco dancer known as "La Chunga" which translates as "the difficult woman"...and indeed the fragrance is somewhat "difficult" alright.
Introduced in 1977, Chunga comes in a string of great chypres with green elements and aldehydes that are elegantly assertive and resolutely determined: Chanel No.19, Lauder's Knowing, Coriandre by Jean Couturier, the first Jean Louis Scherrer fragrance. And thus lovers of the afore-mentioned perfumes are advised to seek out some Chunga for their collection.
In the print advertisements Chunga was targeting literally every woman and that included all races and all skin colors. A pioneering thought for a traditional French house! "Comme un nouvel horizon"...like a new horizon, which marked a new interest in encompassing more ethnicities in the game of perfume, reaping the benefits of feminine emancipation alongside the "black power" that emerged in the 1970s. Another set of print ads is tagged "et la fete commence" (i.e. and the celebration begins), showing a more typical couple in black tie in the midst of some dancing move, a more or less expected extension of perfume as a fashion accessory for a night out.

The olfactory structure of Chunga unfolds like a secret drawer within a drawer: The opening is aggressive, with its citric tang of bergamot and lemony tones sparkling like marble, with the particularly sharp incision of a scalpel, shiny and new and you think that it will remain arid and bitter and gloriously ingestible till the end, until the tables are turned and a second stage emerges. The base of Weil's Chunga is redolent of powdery amber, vetiver and a slightly urinous, honeyed, sweetish musky note that is quite retro; a throwback to days when bodies weren't deodorized to within an inch of their lives and hairy regions were much hairier than recent memory...on both sexes, that is.
The comparison with Weil's more popular and well-known, still-circulating-in-some-version-or-other Antilope perfume is not without its own value: Whereas Antilope is lady-like and more properly floral and feminine in the heart notes, Chunga like its name is butcher, more incisive, with elements that translate as more masculine or sharper. My own bottle is marked Parfum de Toilette, which nicely puts in it the early 1980s.

Chunga was the last fragrance issued by the house in Weil in 1977 and has since become a discontinued rarity. For those with an interest in chronicling the arc of the green, aldehydic, perfume-y chypre, it's incomparable and worth the investment.

Notes for Weil Chunga: aldehydes, bergamot, lemon, peach, clove, jasmine, lily of the valley, linden blossom, orris, ylang-ylang, amber, honey, Tonka bean, vanilla, vetiver, musk 

 pics via hprints.com, museodelparfum.com and punmiris.com

Chloe L'Eau de Chloe: fragrance review

Cast your eye back to the days when you were a kid in a floral print sundress, pig-tails hanging down the sides of your face, flowers pinned carefully on the hair by an older sister or attentive mother, and selling lemonade off a kiosk outside your school or terraced porch to amass money for summer camp (or something along those lines). I hear this gets done a lot in America. I can only tell you that I hadn't had any of those experiences, but lemonade drinking I did as a kid. A lot. It was the official drink of summer (along with sour cherry juice which is just as delicious, if not more) and gulping it down, all thirsty after a run in the fields cutting off wild roses & poppies or a swim in the sea, was one of the major joys of careless late spring and summer days. Perhaps there's something of that ~childhood-reminiscent, innocent and eager about it all~ that is so very refreshing and uplifting when we encounter a citrusy smell. Perhaps that's also why perfume companies are sure to bring forth a slew of citrusy colognes and fragrances into the market with the regularity of a Swiss clock, each spring as soon as the caterpillars turn into butterflies. There's just something optimistic, open and joyous about them, isn't there. Which is where L’Eau de Chloé comes in; from its frozen lemonade top note into its rosewater heart and down to its cooling, mossy base, it's an improvement on the previous Chloe edition* and a scent which instantly puts a smile on my face, even if it doesn't really mesh with my style, having no dark nor serious intentions.

Nikiforos Lytras, The Kiss

The recent "madness" for Eaux
Perfumer Michel Almairac was commissioned with a citrusy built on "clean" rose with a dewy character. Eaux are big as a variant in existing fragrance lines lately, rather than just a rehash of the citrus-herbal Eau de Cologne recipe, with predictably good results; especially at Dior (who had it all with their classic Eau Fraîche) with their Miss Dior Chérie L'Eau and J'Adore L'Eau Florale. Other contestants in this revamped "eau" game include Chanel Cristalle Eau Verte, Chanel Chance Eau Tendre and Chance Eau Fraîche, the three Ô de Lancôme, Eau de Shalimar by Guerlain (a different attitude as this is a complex citrusy oriental rather than just a citrusy, fresh, uncomplicated splash on), Hermes Eau de Gentiane Blanche and Eau de Pamplemousse Rose, even Serge Lutens with his L'Eau Froide and the previous L'Eau de Serge Lutens. It's a good alternative for warm weather wearing when you live in a hot climate.

Perfume impressions and formula structuring
Almairac used the transparent, luminous and at the same time lightly sweet and delectable natural note of rosewater (a distillate from rose petals) in L’Eau de Chloé to counterpoint and at the same time accent, via the common elements, the tart lemonade opening and the lemony magnolia blossom in the core. What was less easy to accomplish was how to stabilize it into a formula that would retain structure. The perfumer opted thus for a mossy-musky base accord which simmers with the angular, lightly bitter beauty of chypre via patchouli and woody ambers (ambrox). The fragrance belongs in the genre of Versace Versence or a modernised/watered down Coriandre by Jean Couturier.
The effect is that of a fizzy, sparkling, tingling the nose grapefruit and citron opening, vivid, spicy and refreshing at the same time with the gusto of carbonated fizz drinks bursting on your face which is prolonged into the proceedings. The peppery, crisp freshness evolves into the bold rosy heart of L’Eau de Chloé, balanced between powdery-minty and retro; non obtrusive for casual day wear, but with enough presence to uphold itself throughout a romantic afternoon. It's because of this that the fragrance projects more as a feminine than a citrusy unisex, which might create its own little problems (i.e. usually unisex citruses are the best). The mossy, patchouli-trailing with a warm, inviting "clean musk" vibe about it is discreet and rather short-lived (as is natural for the genre) and I would definitely prefer it to be darker and more sinister, but the fragrance overall serves as a reminder that small miracles are what we're  thankful for these days.

Advertising images
L’Eau de Chloé utilizes the familiar girl in a field of grass imagery in its advertising, first used by Balmain's classic Vent Vert (which did have something very meadow-like about it!) and perpetuated into recent releases; I'm reminding of Daisy Eau So Fresh by Marc Jacobs for instance. The young sprite is mythologically loaded, reminiscent of nubile teenagers in Greek classical myth deflowered by philandering gods, and it remains a feminist concern thanks to its sheer helplessness (who will hear your cries in the distance?). But perhaps we're injecting too much into it. Perhaps just rolling on a field on a warm, sunny day is a joy into itself and in this land of perfume fantasy all the big bad wolves are programmatically kept at bay or exitinguished with a squirt of a well chosen perfume sprayer. It's a thought...

Notes for L'Eau de Chloé: lemon, peach, violet, natural rosewater, patchouli, cedar.
Available from major department stores.

*NB: I'm hereby referring to the screechy laundry-detergent like Chloé Eau de Parfum by Chloé (2008) and not the excellent, violet-tinged nostalgic powdery fragrance Love, Chloé.

Model: Camille Rowe-Pourcheresse. Shot by Mario Sorenti, Music: Lissy Trullie / Ready for the floor.
More at www.chloe.com/eau

Painting by Greek painter Nikiforos Lytras, The Kiss.

On Lubin's Black Jade: a Perfume Fit for Marie-Antoinette

Parfums Lubin has been a rekindled fragrance brand, after the old house was brought into new ownership some years ago, when the niche market first boomed around the mid 2000s. Engaging Olivia Giacobetti was the first step, issuing and re-issuing fragrances was the second, crucial one; from the legendary Gin Fizz and Idole to the modern Vetiver, as well as the recent crop of releases Bluff, Figaro, Itasca, Inedite. The latest Lubin fragrance release, named Black Jade, is based on Marie Antoinette's signature scent, created by royal nose Jean-Louis Fargeon and inspired by the doomed queen's beloved Trianon gardens in Versailles.  

Black Jade thus contains rose, jasmine, and bergamot, Marie-Antoinette's signature notes. The name for the new fragrance, Black Jade, was inspired by the lore that the queen carried the fragrance with her in a black jade bottle at all times, even when she was imprisoned in the Temple Tower of Paris. It was only before her beheading that she confided it to the Marquise de Tourzel, whose descendants are reportedly still in possession of the original flacon.

Lubin is no stranger to French history: Pierre François Lubin founded the company in 1798 when he began supplying scented ribbons, rice powderballs and masks to "Les Merveilleuses," socially exulted women who frequented Thermidorian drawing rooms of Napoleonic France; and the "Incroyables," members of the subculture that mixed fashion and propaganda which emerged following the terror that was the immediate aftermath of the French Revolution of 1789.

The 2011 edition of Lubin Black Jade has been launched by fragrance company Aedes de Venustas, the well-known niche perfumery which holds a special place in the heart of New York perfumistas. In addition to the original focus on rose, jasmine and bergamot, perfumer Thomas Fontaine infused Lubin's Black Jade 2011 version with galbanum, cardamom, incense, cinnamon, Indian sandalwood, patchouli, vanilla, tonka bean, and amber notes. It belongs to the chypre floral family of fragrances.

This is not the first attempt to recreate Marie Antoinette's scent however: Le Château de Versailles had hired Francis Kurkdjian to create the orange blossom-based M.A. Sillage de la Reine and L'Artisan Parfumeur was inspired for the jasmine-rich  La Haie Fleurie du Hameau, composed by renowned perfumer Jean-Claude Ellena , by the French queen's fated passion for beauty and flowers.

Guerlain Shalimar Parfum Initial: fragrance review

Much as I was predisposed to at least enjoy the unashamedly girly Idylle Duet and dislike the sanctimonious (I thought) Shalimar Parfum Initial, both new releases by the historic house of Guerlain, the perfume gods tipped the scales off and landed me into a case of reverse hubris: I found myself being quite lukewarm on the former, while enjoying very much the latter! How's that for irony?

Indeed Shalimar Parfum Initial, credited to perfumer Thierry Wasser as well, is in almost an unrecognisable style to the other feminine release of this year: rich, satisfying, with a smoothly polished texture like silk moiré, it bears little relation to the anaemic and maudlin composition of Idylle Duet. A sufficient dose of healthy scepticism had struck me like a ton of bricks upon setting eyes on the press release images of the new flanker to the iconic Shalimar: a pink Shalimar, for Christ's sake? Isn't anything sacred? My eyebrows were reaching the roots of my hair in exasperation! But upon testing the actual jus on my skin and letting the blotters, lavishly soaked with it,  on my desk for some days I realised that, corny as it might sound, we're not to judge a book by its cover. Shalimar Parfum Initial is the brave, valiant and well-crafted effort of Wasser and Guerlain to present the house with their own Eau Première, much like Chanel did with their own numeric monstre. After all, much of Guerlain's prestige resides indeed with such venerable classics as Mitsouko and Shalimar.So, what's wrong with "Mon Premier Shalimar", the tagline for this flanker fragrance, assuming the juice is good? Absolutely nothing, that's what.

From a marketing angle, everything is set for success with Shalimar Parfum Initial, aiming at the target Guerlain is so keen on attracting, the fashionable 20-something to 30-something woman with money to spare: The warm pink-fleshy tint of the liquid is familiar to consumers of fruity and gourmand perfumes, attracting them by the token that the colour of the juice is indicative of something more than just a pretty shade. The boosting of citrusy notes up top (the synthetic bergamot is not wildly different than the one used in the reformulated classic, yet it smells more vivid and more vibrant here) give the necessary "freshness" that is a sine qua non for modern audiences. The lush vanilla and tonka ensure that the trademark sultriness of the seductive original is not lost nevertheless.
The beautiful bottle (much sleeker in real life than in images) is tactile, friendly, yet imposing too; its deep blue cap with a tiny ribbon attached an homage to the classic design but also a pretty object that presents itself as something novel. Naked Natalia Vodianova posing in the advertisements of the perfume, shot by Paolo Roversi, is testament to the fact that both men and women stop to stare (and occasionally ogle) at a beautiful supermodel who promises sex at the wink of an otherwise nubile eye.All boxes checked for the marketing team, thank you very much!

The composition of Shalimar Parfum Initial focuses on a precarious balance: the standard oriental accord of bergamot and vanilla is fused with zesty orangeyand light notes which "lift" the base up much like Shalimar Light did with its lemon cupcake opening modernising the old standby admired on grandmas and mamas, but shyed away from my the daughters. Still, what would Shalimar be without the come hither? Guerlain quotes rose petals and jasmine for the floral elements, but it's essential to note that should you be searching for florals, you should look elsewhere: this is a wonderful and wonderfully oriental specimen with little flowery prose; all heaving, all sighing, with the seductive warmth of tonka beans (rich in the cut grass and hay note of coumarin) and of rich, caramelic vanilla pods on woods and what seems like the resinous opoponax. The addition of fresh, warm and sweetish white musk is something that would be polarising for the standard perfumista in search of more complex, "dirtier" musk, but the growling part is transmitted through the low hum of the smoky base that is as animalistically seductive as a rutting beast, just hiding beneath the subtle eroticism promised by the top notes. If I were to find a fault with Shalimar Parfum Initial it is that in essence it is no less than the 4th re-twinkinling of the tried & true Shalimar Light Eau Legere recipe in search of a frontman presenting it to the public now that Jean Paul Guerlain is exiled from his own house...

Shalimar Parfum Initial is available as 40ml, 60ml and 100ml of Eau de Parfum concentration, available from major department stores.

Related reading on Perfume Shrine: Guerlain fragrance reviews, Oriental fragrance reviews

Flankers/derivative versions of Shalimar by Guerlain (with linked reviews & comparison with original):

Shalimar Eau Legere/Shalimar Light

Eau de Shalimar

Shalimar Ode a la Vanille

Shalimar Parfum Initial

Shalimar Parfum Initial L'Eau

Limited editions of Shalimar (without change in the perfume formula itself):

Eau de Shalimar Flower

Shalimar Charms edition & Eau de Shalimar Charms edition

Shalimar Fourreau du Soir

Shalimar extrait de parfum in Bacarrat quadrilobe flacon 2011 edition

The music in the commercial clip is Initials BB by Serge Gainsbourg.

A Taste of Bergamot

While travelling on scented adventures across the globe I distinctly recall the uplifting properties that a rind of bergamot tucked in my pocket for difficult moments imparted on my nausated self. A brief whiff of its aromatherapeutic properties was my lucky charm to aliviate the stress of traveling and make me focus. It was only much later I learned that it was the traveller of travellers, Christopher Columbus, who first brought the tree to the Caribbean, where it was popularly used in voodoo rituals to protect against misfortune and that it's still used in in hoodoo rootwork, to control or command individuals!

Antonio Familiari, an 80-year-old former school teacher who tends bergamot groves off Calabria's coast in Italy is definite on the subject:"The bergamot is an intelligent creature. Its arrival in Calabria is shrouded in mystery, and even though it grows elsewhere, only in this area does it give us the essential oil", while his nails claw on a bergamot releasing the little stream of droplets that posses a soft orange undertone under the lemon sharpness. Ezio Pizzi, a 62-year-old former lawyer who returned to his family's bergamot plot after his father died a decade ago is equally enthralled by the fruit: "When I think about the possibilities for bergamot fruit, I get goosebumps." On the outskirts of Reggio di Calabria, Francesco Crispo, director of the state-founded Consortium of Bergamot Growers, has a plan for a 1,500-square metre, seven million-euro institute of perfumery.
But apart from the established role of bergamot in perfumery, is there some way of utilizing this heavenly scent into something that combines the aromatherapeutic with the gluttony? As in food and drink?

The stimulating and pleasantly refined aroma of bergamot has always been a companion in my black tea, in the form of beloved Earl Grey, possibly the best-known incarnation for most people. Its distinctive flavour and aroma derives from the addition of oil extracted from the rind of the bergamot orange; the name on the other hand derives from the 2nd Earl of Grey, British Prime Minister (1830-1834) and author of the Reform Bill of 1832, who reputedly received the aromatized tea and the recipe as a diplomatic gift by a Chinese nobleman who thus thanked him for saving his life. History proves otherwise, but that shouldn't deter you from enjoying a full cup nevertheless! Twinings, one of the loose leaves black tea brands I buy out of tradition, still has the emblem of the Earl on their nostalgic, metallic canisters. Their newest addition Lady Grey is a little pale for my tastes, but you might like it. Fortnum & Mason has a superior Earl Grey blend in their loose leaves tins and is a purchase that won't break the bank. Clearly the many drinkers of Earl Grey have been enjoying this rich, elegant richness above all else and one of the loveliest blends you can try is Adagio Earl Grey Bravo (or Aristocrate), while I also like the balanced approach of Upton Teas Earl Grey Ceylon Select. Perhaps the best novel idea I can give you is to actually ice the tea and drink it for refreshment in the summer: much more invigorating and satisfying than plain black tea with lemon!

Yet bergamot has other uses in flavourful incarnations, even though the fruit is inedible, prompting the owner of this small garden on Zante island to proclaim on this funny placard on his midget trees "they're bergamots, not lemons", to deter poachers from cutting off the fruit to use in their kitchen.

One of the loveliest and easiest ideas is to aromatize a white liquor with the washed, peeled rind. Just peel the fruit, remove the white underside, cut in small rolls and press them inside the neck of a bottle of alcholic drink. Leave them be for a couple of weeks and you will see. The idea is not drastically creative, as Triple Sec has been using citrus essences on a base of brandy distillation to act as a digestif for decades. But it's good to expand. The idea works well with Italian Grappa as well as Vino Greco and I have personally used it with good results in light white rum and local ρακί/raki. The resulting potion can be used in cocktails, imparting a delicately bitter fruity flavour.

The most traditional and devilishly tempting proposition of them all however is the Greek Bergamot spoonful treat: a single spoonful of candied fruit dessert that is served on very small crystal plates and chased down with an icy cold glass of water. The flavour is so concentrated and intense that you won't need another one. And although it's so full of sugar it has no fat whatsoever, rending it a very healthy dessert. You can buy them ready-made, but they're breezily easy to make, so here is a handed-down recipe.

Recipe for Bergamot Spoonful Sweet
You will need:

7 fresh bergamots
white sugar, as much in weight as the bergamots
water
juice of 1 lemon
1 and 1/2 cup of water for the final boil
juice of 1/2 lemon for the final boil
toothpicks
clean, boiled jar with tight-fitting lid

1. Wash the bergamots, wipe and using a kitchen scrub pad scrub until outer becomes bright yellow.
2. Cut a little off the top and the bottom and score with a sharp knife into three or four parts. With the tip of the knife, remove the skin and throw away the inner part. Remove as much white pith from the bergamot peels as possible, because it's very bitter.
3.Pick the rolls of rind and roll them securing them with the toothpicks. Place them in a large saucepan and cover them in water.
4. Bring to boiling point for 2 – 3 minutes. Remove the water and substitute with fresh. Repeath Step 4 for 3-4 times. This can be done on consecutive days or on the same day to remove some of the bitterness. The more diaphanous the water becomes, the less bitter it has got.
5.On the last boiling procedure empty hot water, add fresh cold water and the juice of 1 lemon. Put them again to boil for 10 minutes. Remove from stove and leave until the water cools. Drain them and put them on the pot again.
6.Now add the sugar and the water. Leave them for half an hour and then boil. Lower heat to medium for 15 minutes. Remove from heat and leave for a while.
Bring the bergamots again to a boil, simmer for about an hour, or until the liquid becomes clear and thick (You'll know it's ready when it forms "set" droplets that leave the spoon reluctantly when dropped). Finally add the other lemon juice, stir and leave to cool completely.
7. Place the fruit in clean jars with a lid, close tightly and place them upside down for a couple of minutes. You can keep them in a cupboard for a year.


Related reading on PerfumeShrine: the Bergamot Series, Aromatic Cuisine (scented escapades in the kitchen)

Photos copyright by PerfumeShrine and via Gayot.com

Bergamot in Fragrances and in Eau de Cologne: a Match made in Heaven

The use of bergamot in the Mediterranean fragrant waters is something of a tradition, even to this day. My mother, same as lots of men and women in my culture, used to carry a small splash bottle of fragrant alcoholic “eau” in her purse at all times, to refresh her hands or handkerchief during the day with a swift and effective “pick me up” and to even quick-cleanse mine in the absence of water and soap as a small child, thus killing two birds with one stone: eliminating some bacteria from casual contact with dirt and making me a fragrance aficionado ever since!


Although she kept her precious exotic perfumes at home, the bergamot, lemon or even pine-infused eau de Cologne travelled with her, refreshing many a time a weary travelling companion and alleviating a stuffy atmosphere of a couped- up car on a long drive across Europe. The citrus base of such waters has left an indelible mark on my conscious making me hanker after the smell of bergamot as the one cure to prevent nausea. But the history of Eau de Cologne and its inclusion of bergamot goes far, far back...
Although technically neroli (the essence rendered by the steam distillation of orange blossoms) is the prime constituent of an Eau de Cologne "type" of fragrance, bergamot gives it a finishing joyfulness and polish like no other thing.

The most influential scent of the 18th century and the court of Louis XV (nicknamed la cour parfumée due to the dictation of wearing a different scent every day) was Aqua Admirabilis, a composition by Gian Paolo Feminis. G.P.Feminis blended grape spirits (instead of today's undrinkable perfumer's alcohol), along with essences of neroli, lavender and rosemary adding the basic component of freshness, bergamot essential oil, thus creating the first recipe for what would later become celebrated by another name: Eau de Cologne. When Feminis moved from his native Italy to Köln/Cologne, in Germany, his nephew Jean Marie Farina from Santa Maria Maggiore Valle Vigezzo, in Italy, tweaked the refreshing elixir, which then became known by its place of production as Eau de Cologne or more specifically “Johann Maria Farina gegenüber dem Jülichs-Platz” (John Maria Farina opposite the Jülichs place) ~the address of the world's oldest Eau de Cologne and perfume factory.

In 1708, Farina had written to his brother Jean Baptiste: “I have created a perfume which is reminiscent of a spring morning following a soft shower where fragrances of wild narcissi combine to that of sweet orange flowers. This perfume refreshes me and stimulates both my senses and imagination...” [1]. In June 1709 Johann Baptist Farina travelled to Cologne where his younger brother Johann Maria Farina had been working for his uncle since 1708. And so on the 13th of July Johann Baptist founded the company G.B.Farina, its production uninterupted ever since. Such was the popularity of the scent that according to records, 3700 bottles were delivered to a total of 39 addresses between 1730 and 1739! [2] Small papier-mâché boxes aromatized with bergamot were used to keep small precious mementos like locks of hair and billets doux wich showed bergamot's already established popularity. So the fragrance of the new "water" delighted the upper nobility and soon became a royal and imperial favourite. The red seal bearing the family crest which appeared on all products was a token of quality and authenticity. The bottles were moreover accompanied by a signed document with directions for use as “Eau de Cologne” wasn’t exclusively for exterior use. It was recommended for dental hygiene, a cure against bad breath and a way of avoiding infectious diseases! A panacea in disguise!
Napoleon Bonaparte who favoured Brown Windsor soap (which included lavender, bergamot and clove oils) used Eau de Cologne by the gallon, going through a bottle a day and consuming sugar cubes dipped in it. The German composer Richard Wagner on the other hand is credited with this quote in his correspondence: “I expect to use one liter of Eau de Cologne per month. Please send me three liters for one quarter so we can see how we manage”
Other Eaux de Cologne, such as the famous Cologne 4711 (Echt Kölnisch Wasser), named after its location at "Glockengasse No. 4711", share the name in common but not the formula. Before retiring, Farina sold the formula to Léonce Collas, while in 1806 Jean Marie Joseph Farina, a grand-grand-nephew of Giovanni Maria Farina (1685-1766), sold the rights to Armand Roger and Charles Gallet in 1862, the duo behind the Roger & Gallet brand [3], who produce the Eau de Cologne Extra Vielle in contrast to the Original Eau de Cologne from Cologne.

The suaveness and complexity of bergamot make it a supreme choice for inclusion in many an aromatic blend, not only for Eaux de Cologne, where it pairs with neroli (the par excellence ingredient in the Eau de Cologne blends), but other fragrances as well. Apart from the classic chypre accord and its ubiquitness in the olfactory family of “mossy woods”/chypres, bergamot adds its magic in a plethora of fragrances from other families as well, both for men as for women. It's especially welcome in leather scents, where its suaveness provides the perfect pairing for the pungent hide notes or bitter greens of quinolines.

Here is a small (by no means all inclusive) list of fragrances in which bergamot is clearly discernible:

Antica Farmacista Alonissos,
Antica Farmacista Mediterranean,
Aramis Aramis,Aqua di Genova Colonia,
Aqua di Parma Colonia and Colonia Intensa,
Bois 1920 “1920 Extreme,”
Boucheron Boucheron femme and Boucheron homme,
Calvin Klein CKone,
Cerrutti 1881,
Chanel Allure,
Chanel Allure Sensuelle,
Chanel Bois des Iles,
Chanel Coco Mademoiselle,
Chanel Cristalle (both EDT and EDP),
Chanel No. 19,
Chanel Pour Monsieur,Christian Dior Miss Dior,
Christian Dior Diorling,
Christian Dior Diorama,Creed Amalfi Flowers,
Estee Lauder Azurée,Etro Palais Jamais,
Fabergé Brut,
Floris Cefiro,
Gianfranco Ferré Bergamotto Marino,
Guerlain Aqua Allegoria Orange Magnifica,
Guerlain Cologne du 68,
Guerlain Derby,
Guerlain Jicky,
Guerlain Les Eaux : Eau de Coq, Eau Impériale, Eau De Fleurs De Cedrat, Eau de Guerlain,
Guerlain Mitsouko,
Guerlain Parure,Guerlain Rose Barbare,
Guerlain Shalimar,
Hermès Amazone,
Histoires de Parfums 1740 Marquis de Sade,
Institut Tres Bien Cologne à l'Italienne,
Jean Paul Gaultier Le Male,
Jo Malone 154,
by Kilian Cruel Intentions,
Knize Knize Ten,Lanvin Arpège,
Lancôme Cuir (2007 re-issue),Ormonde Jayne Ormonde Man,
Parfums de Nicolaï Cologne Sologne (a citrus explosion with lime and lemon too),
Ralph Lauren Safari for Men,
Rancé 1795 Eugénie,
Robert Piguet Bandit,Sisley Eau de Soir,
Sisley Soir de Lune,
The Different Company Divine Bergamote,
Visconti di Modrone Aqua di Selva,
Yardley Gentleman,
Yves Saint Laurent Y

Sources:
[1]Markus Eckstein, Eau de Cologne, J.P. Bachem Verlag 2006, Cologne
[2]http://www.farina1709.com/
[3]Edwin T. Morris, Fragrance: The Story of Perfume from Cleopatra to Chanel. E.T. Morris and Co. 1984, New York.
Pic Gates of Handax, Crete taken by Tsoublekas/flickr
Pic of Risoli flacon of Farina Eau de Cologne via wikimedia commons