Oriental Arabesque for Oud Palao by Diptyque

The newest fragrance by French niche brand Diptyque is called Oud Palao and is -you guessed it- inspired by the mega-trend that is oud. It also incorporates perfume notes of Bulgarian rose, camphor, labdanum,  rum, tobacco, patchouli, Madagascar vanilla, and sandalwood.

But what is most memorable is the gorgeous, eye-catching illustration motif. After all Diptyque started as a quirky design brand of textiles and scents...

Santa Maria Novella Gardenia: fragrance review

“The house smelled musty and damp, and a little sweet, as if it were haunted by the ghosts of long-dead cookies.”
~Neil Gaiman, American Gods

Smelling the little known Gardenia by the Florentine pharmacy brand of Santa Maria Novella, thanks to the inquisitive generosity of a special reader, I am reminded not of cookies exactly, but of cachous, the French candies that are composed of minty, bitter elements (minus their licorice), and of another candy conflated, popular with elder ladies, those chalky rounds flavored with violet and aniseed but seemingly without much sugar. Gardenia, you see, has the rare ability to go for the effect of not one, but two candies at the same time, eschewing allusions to syrupy delights, as it goes about its business; more the ghost of candies past than real ones.

Domenico Ghirlandaio, detail from Visitation, at Capella Tornabuoni at Santa Maria Novella, Florence

But that's half the story. In Gardenia there's detectable camphor on top, a hint of mothballs, surely lent by either a small tuberose facet (close kin to natural gardenia, but its advantage is that contrary to gardenia it can be sufficiently extracted), or via organic chemistry.
The mushroom dampness that evolves in a potted gardenia plant surfaces too in the Santa Maria Novella perfume (much like it did in the since discontinued Velvet Gardenia in Tom Ford's Private Line of fragrances), the earthiness of the soil in which the stems grow, the greenery, the humid air of the tropics that is its natural habitat. The end result smells little of the total that makes a lifelike gardenia perfume (all the more so a soliflore, a fragrance imitating the scent of a single flower), highlighting in odd focus elements of the live gardenia, like a super-sized vision through a microscope, germs appearing like monsters of the abyss or engulfing other micro-organisms via tentacle-like arms and legs: the green, the undergrowth, the musty note, the camphor….they're there in giga size. It also adds elements that are unfamiliar to our perception of the gardenia plant, copious ionones, smelling like violets & wood, and anethole (the molecule recognizable in anise).

It feels green & mauve, not white. It's demure long dresses in dove grey rather than a silky top over a hugging the curves pencil skirt. It's unkempt chestnut hair in matted tresses rather than glossy waves licking bronzed shoulders. It's John Dowland's I saw my lady weep, not Manuel de Falla. It's melancholy with a dash of neglect and abandonment, rather than boiling passions. To me at least.

For a photo-realistic gardenia fragrance you need to access either the discontinued Yves Rocher Pur Desir de Gardenia (in which the effect is rendered via jasmolactones) or Estee Lauder's Private Collection Tuberose Gardenia (in which the latter floral effectively upstages the usually diva- esque former one). Santa Maria Novella's Gardenia is an atypical one, a "difficult" to get scent but quite interesting all the same, and probably better appreciated as an earthy, non sweet violet scent trampled in undergrowth than the waxy petaled white flower of the tropics that induces ultra-romantic reverie.
(For one such, read a different take by Jane Daly)

Definition: Terpenic, Phenolic & Camphoraceous in Fragrances

Perfume vocabulary is diverse and often confusing. Therefore we have compiled an extensive reference on Perfume Shrine, analysing the various perfume terms applied by perfumers with examples of actual perfumes. Today's terms comprise some of the more "acquired taste" definitions on fragrant materials &finished compositions. More perfume jargon than marketing copy, the sheer force and almost visceral effect they have leaves no one indifferent.

copal with trapped insects (wikimedia commons)

If you haven't caught on the Perfumery Definitions series till now, please visit:

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

Terpenic, Phenolic and Camphorous are not terms you'd see brandished in a general discussion about fragrance or in the promotional material handed out by perfume companies. More smell-specific and objective definitions than subjective terms ~relating to appreciation rather than factual knowledge, such as sharp, soft, ambrosial, tart, pungent or zesty~ they form a cluster of nuances within a more general smell group, namely citrus, leather and green respectively. Let's see them one by one.

Terpenic: Perversely Fresh, Rosy Citrus with Hints of Turpentine
Terpenic comes from terpenes, a large and diverse class of organic compounds (ten carbon alcohols), produced by conifers (and a few insects) for protective reasons, as they are strong-smelling, reminiscent of turpentine. You're more familiar with terpenes than you think: The aroma and flavor of hops, a prime constituent in select beers, comes from terpenes. Vitamin A and squalene are also terpenes and so are their derivative.
In fragrances, however, the term is associated with conifer-deriving essences, particularly pine (which contains a-pinene and b-pinene alonside the combined molecule terpineol) and fir. Copal, a tree resin that is particularly identified with the aromatic resins used by the cultures of pre-Columbian Mesoamerica as ceremonially burned incense and other purposes, is also rather more acrid than most other resins (though resins can have terpenic facets, especially frankincense/olibanum) and therefore requires its own little footnote.

Various terpenes are present in a variety of plants emitting fresh scent: farnesol is present in many essential oils such as citronella, neroli, lemon grass, tuberose, rose, and tolu balsam; geraniol (which smells rosy in isolation) is the primary part of rose oil, palmarosa oil, and Javanese citronella oil; limonene is the dominant terpene in lemon peel. Citing these examples it's easy to see how terpenic stands for fresh & dry, bitter citrusy with a background of a petrol and winery note. Serge Lutens Fille en Aiguilles is a beautiful exaple that combines the terpenic facets of pine into a smooth base with sweeter elements. Caron's Alpona is a "dry as a bone", clean, refreshing and bitter rendition of the citrus peel note.

pine resin (wikimedia commons)

Phenolic: Tar-Like and Acrid
Phenolic comes from phenol (carbolic acid and phenic acid), an organic compound in white crystal form which possesses a very pungent, acrid, smoky scent that is very dry and can veer into tarry-smelling, even like bitumen and hot tarmac. Fitting considering that -like many perfumery ingredients- phenol was first isolated from coal tar. Tar came from the pyrolysation of pine trees and from peat. The latter is often used as a term to describe certain whiskeys (peaty tasting) and it's incomphrehensible to most who wouldn't dream how peat tastes like. But think of it as tarry and you're there!
Natural sources include tea, coffee and chocolate and yerba maté, but even fruits such as pomegranates and blackcurrant can be refered to as having phenolic facets (in the case of the fruits behind the tangy top notes); phenol is leaning into acidic rather than alcaline. In perfumery castoreum, birch tar and narcissus all exhibit their barnyard and smoky black tea tar-like facets in various fragrances.

Usually phenolic is a term we use to describe leathery fragrances, such as Chanel Cuir de Russie, Etro Gomma, Knize Ten, Bvlgari Black. The Chanel fragrance is an interesting example as it combines a de iuro resinous note (birch tar) with phenolic facets. Birch tar is poised to me between resinous and phenolic: rather think of phenolic as a sub-dividion of a more generalised resin group, much like terpenic is a more nuanced division under the citrus & resin groups.
A beautiful, truly "phenolic fragrance" that sets the example for this kind of thing is the scarce & super exclusive Eau de Fier by Annick Goutal. Another interpretation comes in leathery fragrances, especially hard-core ones, such as Lonestar Memories by Tauer Perfumes. Gaucho by Ayala Moriel takes the more yerba maté like note as its departure point in a fougère fragrance composition full of coumarin.
L'Artisan Parfumeur explores the leathery, phenolic facets of narcissus in their harvest fragrance Fleur de Narcisse. 

Vapor Rub via pos-ftiaxnetai.blogspot.com

Camphorous/Camphoraceous: Cool, Sharp Green
Seen with both spellings, the scent of camphor is familiar to us from common "moth balls" which utilize the white crystalls for moth repelling. However the cooling, sharp and pungent scent of camphor which triggers the trigeminal nerve in the nose (hence the intense repulsion it can produce to sensitive individuals) is also a constituent, small but very significant of certain fragrant plants: Eycalyptus and the camphor laurel (from which camphor is often derived, though not exclusively as it can be made synthetically as well) are the obvious suspects, but camphoraceous smells also include one end of the lavender essence spectrum (that medicinal top note, the other end is caramelic), patchouli and the top note of tuberose and gardenia.

This is why often such perfumes are curedly described as "smelling like moth-balls". They can also have positive connotations, memory associations with the smell of Vicks vaporub (or not, depending on how often and how much your parents used to use on you as a kid!).

The beautiful vibrancy that camphor brings to a composition can be seen in intense patchouli fragrances, as Clinique Aromatics Elixir or Voleur de Roses by L'Artisan Parfumeur, as well as some "modern classic" tuberose fragrances, such as Frederic Malle Carnal Flower and Gardenia Passion by Annick Goutal. Ylang ylang flower (cananga odorata) apart from the salicylates facet it has can also take camphorous nuances, as evidenced by another Goutal fragrance, Passion.

L'Artisan Parfumeur Voleur de Roses: fragrance review

In Oscar Wilde's tale "The Nightingale and the Rose", drawing upon an ancient Sufi tradition, roses are dark red like blood, bearing the price of sacrifice for the sake of beauty and love. In L'Artisan Parfumeur Voleur de Roses we witness the dark, earthier aspects of a nightime rose garden which blossoms, dense with foliage, only when true love manifests itself and a nightingale sings ever so sweetly as its pierces its heart upon the thorns.

Even though men are not known for typically wearing roses in the Western world, in Arabian countries they embrace those dark, almost gothic roses flanked by pungent woody notes like oud and patchouli. For those men and women with an adventurous heart, L'Artisan Parfumeur created almost two decades ago one of the most characteristic combination of those two polarising essences: the brutal yet tender collision of rose and patchouli.

Voleur de Roses (Roses' Thief) is like the granpa of niche patchoulis on the market, as it came out as early as 1993, composed by perfumer Michel Almairac (well known for his work on Chopard Casmir, Gucci Rush, several Bond no.9 scents such as Fire Island and The Scent of Peace, the new Chloe and the re-orchestration of Zen into a springly fruity floral). Subsequently all brands jumped onto the bandwagon of patchouli revival (it had been a dormant note since its heyday in the 1960s) and now it has not only swept the market as a protagonist in the new "pink chypres" (faux woody florals that substitute the base of moss with patchouli and vetiver) but also the much maligned -but deservedly most of the time- "fruitchoulis". Imagine a current bestseller, Chanel's Coco Mademoiselle, without the accord of the soiled petals gathered off the ground which made it so contemporary and attractive to young women: it would have been impossible without a forebearer providing the skeleton of the idea, such as Voleur de Roses. Patchouli and rose is nothing new, as the dark, deep and sweet earthiness of the former seems to make the essence of the latter smell like petals unfurling into infinity. All perfumers know that. But in the L'Artisan scent this notion was put front and center, united in an accord which projects with both strength and sensuality. The rose is not sour and it feels natural, not like a photorealistic rose on the stem, but rather true to the rich liqueur-like essence; boozy and contrasting warmth with coolness.

Although built upon two distinct and contrasting elements, the structure of Voleur de Roses is a powerful synergy of these antithetical forces, uniting into a stentorian voice which denies rose of all its archetypal attributes: romanticism, femininity, delicate elegance, softness. Instead this fragrance is like the torrent that ripped rose bushes off their petals and leaves (hence Voleur!) and left the premises like a patchouli-wheeled tractor ran through them repeatedly. If you do not like patchouli as a note (and if you're a reader who didn't live under a rock for the past 15 years you'd recognise it from overexposure in many contemporary fragrances) you're advised to back slowly away and never look back or you'll turn to salt like Lot's wife. This is a direct, over patchouli scent which gains in that odd camphoraceousness that patchouli soli-scents exhibit as time passes ~Borneo 1834 or Prada Intense are good examples of that sort of thing. It figures that L'Artisan featured a stand-alone Patchouli (later substituted by Patchouli Patch) on their catalogue previously: it's the stuff that niche fragraces capitalised on; focus on the raw materials themselves, far away references, emphasizing different facets of the essences.
Voleur de Roses is a fusion of two essential elements that comprise over 3/4 of total number of fragrances in both feminine and masculine perfumery, from floral chypres and masculine woodies via floral woodies and from Chanel through Guerlain. But the formula in this L'Artisan is also a careful framing (rather than ornamentation) of that skeleton with fruity accents (hints of strawberry, a whiff of plum) and a slightly musky-salty note. The composition is linear and a love-it-or-hate-it opus, one clear message in a perfectly coherent chord reverbarated into eternity into a hollow stone-built church. I personally like it very much indeed...but then I am a devotee of the sweet earthiness of aged patchouli that is reminiscent of burying one's hands in wet black soil...



Those who find they'd like the idea of rose and earthy notes/patchouli combined should also try Agent Provocateur's original scent in the pink "egg", Une Rose by F.Malle, Parfums de Rosine Une Folie de Rose (a lighter and easier interpretation) as well as Rose d'Homme by the same company (a decidedly masculine take on the idea), and also the more chypre-leaning Rose de Nuit by Serge Lutens.

Notes for L'Artisan Voleur de Roses:
bergamot, rose, plum, patchouli

Perfectly unisex, although originally marketed as masculine (at least going by what the older bottles read on the top of the cardboard box), Voleur de Roses is available online at L'Artisan and at boutiques specializing in L'Artisan scents.

illustration by Charles Robinson for the Oscar Wilde fairy tale

Benefactor from Parfums d'Armando Martinez: fragrance review

There is an underappreciated quality when judging perfume, especially among people who love it. That quality is wearability.
It might sound like a dirty word when every other fragrance release from the major companies is akin to putting on a mass-marketed piece of clothing that is being produced in Bangladesh, bearing the insignia of a well-known commercial designer no less. But I assure you that wearability is much more than what meets the eye. It is precisely this quality, often elusive in the niche arena of scents, that accounts for the success of Armando Martinez's perfumes.

From his first foray into Perfume Shrine with the powdery rose and violet honeyed tones of Maquillage, to his masterpiece aldehydic, pearly white floral Pillow of Flowers, Armando has been playing with good quality natural ingredients and aromachemicals that are blended in an ultimate caress of softness and plushness that would never alienate the lover of pleasant aromas. His creations do not lack uniqueness and to wit one could very well mention the mould-breaking herbal Satyr which is certainly different and stranger than most similar attempts on the market. Yet even then, there is a base element that ties loose ends with a pacifying tone like a familiar lullaby one has been carrying in one's mind since childhood.

And it is in this context that Armando's latest fragrance, a shared scent that can be worn by both sexes, Benefactor, is entering the scene; a glimpse of Salome's veils for the delectation of oriental lovers everywhere.

"Benefactor, a scent that envelopes the wearer in a cloak of roses, vanilla and agarwood. A modern take on the age old arabic perfume. An oriental that is unisex.
Benefactor's notes include: bergamot, camphor, turkish rose, saffron, vetiver, atlas cedarwood, vanilla, and agarwood".

(quote from Armando Martinez site).

Although a camphoric opening might predispose one for The Agony and the Ecstasy of none other than the perverse beauty of Tubereuse Criminelle by Lutens or even his equally strange yet lovely Borneo, in Benefactor the effect is subdued and short-lived enough to not jolt you into shock, yet challenge the nostrils with its peculiar aroma paired with a little culinary saffron, that spice that colours Middle Eastern dishes with its rich golden hues. As the camphoric note dissipates, a sweet and powdery rosiness like that in loukhoums emerges swan-down like from the mélange of notes with a little vanillic underscoring. At this stage the cosiness and softness is eminently beautiful without ever becoming insipid, with agarwood/oudh, that weird wood also appearing in the comparable Black Aoudh by Montale, so prized in arabian perfumery, playing the role of basso continuo all the while; providing the austere backdrop that veers the whole into the unisex universe of scents.
A simple composition that never loses its charm, it has the benefit of making one feel at once warm, cuddly and familiar with just the right touch of opulence, daydreaming of a harem in the Arabian Nights.

If interested in purchasing a 2 ounce spray bottle or requesting samples, Mando is charging $65.00 a bottle for each of his creations, directly from his site: Click here.
They are currently for sale also in Europe on First in Fragrance/Aus liebe zum Duft website. Click here for details.

Painting of Harem comes from travelinstyle.com