Boss Bottled Elixir: fragrance review

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

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

YSL La Nuit de l'Homme: fragrance review

"Sexy as hell" is what our Hellenic readers hail this cologne as. An enthusiastic endorsement from people who do actually enjoy a wide array of male colognes, La Nuit de l'homme has been YSL's best release in their masculine section for quite some time. Recents batches have become decidedly weaker, but the magic of the spicy woody notes persists.

via

Woody scents are typically manly, mainly due to a lack of distracting elements from their solid "watch me chop the wood, I'm a lumberjack" impression. But the cunning in La Nuit de l'Homme lies in interweaving a coolish tinge of spicy cardamom which interplays with the traditional barber-shop lavender to give a juxtaposition of cleanliness and mysterious exoticism. It's definitely one to wear when out flirting. There are very few women who don't like this one.

Serge Lutens Arabie: fragrance review

Arabie is a virtual stroll amidst the exotic Al Halili bazaar at noon, rows and rows of succulent dried fruits and colorful, piquant, pungent spices; a kaleidoscopic vision seen in vermilion and saffron red. Women and men could get entangled in its nectarous, densely woven web, especially when the weather is cool and the mood is festive.

via

Temperamentally sweet, luminous, golden, reminiscent of fruit & spice compotes and as mysterious as the East itself, Arabie is a sinfully rich fragrance for those who are not afraid to get their fingers inside the cookie jar!

Created in 2000.
Fragrance Family: Oriental Spicy

Top notes: candied mandarin, dried fig, dates.
Heart: cardamom, nutmeg, cumin, bay leaf, clove.
Base: Tonka bean, Siamese benzoin, myrrh.

The Case for a Good Drag of Smoke: Korres Premium II L'Eau de Parfum

Poor Jon Hamm had to smoke 74 herbal cigarettes in the pilot of Mad Men alone, such is our modern shunning of smoking, even more so on screen, where it's strictly seen as "period work." And yet ... You can do lots of things with a cigarette on hand: gain time, use that sharp intake of smoke as a decisive battle cry, fill that hanging silence of exhaling with something to look into, occupy your hands, offer to light a damsel-in-distress's own cigarette ... smoking has its own language and codes.

Which nicely brings me to our matter at hand. A gorgeous tobacco fragrance for men. Those old-cut ones, like Richard Widmark. Widmark looked quite a bit like my own grandfather, who wore Tabac Original by Mauer & Wirtz; there's poetic justice in the lives of perfumephiles, you see.

via

Thus goes my review of the Premium II L'Eau de Parfum by Greek brand Korres. Issued in late 2014 and among the very good surprises of the beginning of this year, I realize that it's not exactly summer material (though you could wear it, why not), more of a flannel suit and fedora hat affair, yet it beckoned last week when the heatwave made everything smell so very intensely that I was sure I was either smelling fragrances from three blocks away or experiencing a case of phantosmia (sensing phantom smells). Please find my full review of this beautiful tobacco and woods cologne on this link. As always you're welcome to comment either here or there or both.

Aedes de Venustas Copal Azur: fragrance review & samples giveaway

How can a strictly indoors smell, that of burning incense, so tied to wooden pegs and tight clusters of people, gain an outdoorsy veneer? The French perfume school has long thrived on the exploration of indoor scents; from the culinary scents of hot butter, peachy and plummy compotes and pain d'épices fused into classic chypres and orientals, to the introspective scents of the church and the literary salon, full of incense, beeswax and the scent of the paper-knife between paper leaves, the ink that dots the pages... These reflect the traditions that have built France's reputation as the seat of good food and decent banter. But the great outdoors, a less Parisian perhaps, yet not entirely distant destination, was left uncharted right till the bucolic greeneries introduced with Vent Vert and the athletic agility of the 1990s marines. And then the outdoors came sweeping one day, sailing on.

Copal Azur by Aedes de Venustas & Bertrand Duchaufour isn't strictly a ....but.click to read my full review on Fragrantica grabbing a nice fluffy mohair blanket and a chocolate bar.
And enter a comment to be eligible for one of the 5 samples I'm giving away. Draw is open internationally till Sunday 23rd noon.

Ayala Moriel Parfums Musk Malabi: fragrance review

Originally released to coincide with the spring equinox and Nowruz (the Persian New Year), the intoxicating floral confection Musk Malabi by Ayala Moriel is unabashedly feminine, subtly exotic and hopelessly romantic, evoking for the wearer a sensory experience not unlike a passionate love affair. Musk Malabi was inspired by and named after a traditional Middle Eastern dessert, malabi—a milk-based pudding or custard, thickened with rice flour, which israelikitchen.com describes as "You'll taste rose-flavored sweetness and a light, creamy texture that keeps you dipping your spoon back in till the Malabi's all gone". (Actually the artisan perfumer has a recipe for Malabi on her blog!).

via pinterest

The scent of Moriel's Musk Malabi is a rich, milky-smelling, lactonic musk with a lightly coolish top note, sweetly petering out to rosewater and orange flower water. The result is a succulent and sensual confection that can only be enjoyed in the context of one loving sheer, plush, sensuous scents meant to be shared between lovers; spoonful by spoonful, preferably as the final courting phase before other things happen or as an intimate refueling of energy… Although this description might tend to stigmatize a musk fragrance as being a tad too intimate for comfort (if you know what I mean), there is no such danger with Musk Malabi, because the succulence outweighs the usual funky scent of "musk". The fusion of vegetal sourced musk-smelling materials is an intricate but rewarding experience for the perfumer who ends up with a mix that alternates between warm and cool and complements perfectly with the milkier (like sandalwood inflected rose) and fluffier notes (imagine a downy soft note of orris and vanilla, even though I'm not sure orris is included in the official set of notes)

Having grown up in Israel, the sights, sounds, and smells of the Mediterranean have always been a source of inspiration for Canadian based indie perfumer Ayala Moriel. "What has always captured my imagination about malabi is its soft, evocative-sounding name, and its unique fragrant combination of rosewater and neroli water," explains Ayala. "Rose and orange blossom are such noble flowers yet oh so different."

Tunisian neroli and Turkish rose meet with musk in the heart of Musk Malabi, creating an unusual and mesmerizing triad. This botanical musk, designed to smell as close as possible to deer musk, brings an effortless fluidity to this magnetic fragrance, playing the role of Cupid in the fragrance and drawing the lovers (rose and neroli) together. There is also cardamom, coriander and blood orange on top.
As with all Ayala Moriel perfumes, Musk Malabi is all-natural and free of animal cruelty, created entirely of botanical essences. The top and heart notes of this sensual fragrance rest on a silky bed of atlas cedarwood, botanical musk and Tahitian vanilla.

Good deed bonus in purchasing: Ayala Moriel Parfums is donating 10% of sales to aid Syrian refugees.

Musk Malabi is available in eau de parfum 4 ml ($49) and 15 ml ($119) bottles on the official website of Ayala Moriel Parfums and the Vancouver Giving Gifts & Company.

Related reading on Perfume Shrine: Scented Musketeers: musk fragrances reviews

Providence Perfume Samarinda: fragrance review

Samarinda was an unexpected surprise in my mailbox replete with an eco-benefit (more on which below) and it was a pleasant one which prompted this review. Independent perfumers come with the benefit of being able to both experiment with no concern of focus groups and with the passion that comes with doing what you believe you should do instead of what you know you should do in order to sell well. Not that artisanal perfumers are beyond the scope of a true business, if they have leaped off the amateur description concocting elixirs in their back kitchen, but you know what I mean; wouldn't you rather have someone disregard trends, likability stakes, IFRA restrictions and focus on what seems "like a good idea, let's try it out and see"? Charna Ethier of Providence Perfume Co. is one such.

Ethier is a botanical perfumer, working with natural essences and what I believe are extractions from materials not common in mainstream (and even niche) perfumery, such as choya nakh, a roasted seashell  essence which is truly unique and which I personally find captivating thanks to its evocation of the animalic marine world. Samarinda is using this essence, alongside many others which initially seem incongruous (the above mentioned choya nakh side by side with Sumatran coffee alongside jasmine rice, oakwood, leather, rum ether and flowers), but the blend is quite astonishingly tempered and uplifting. The cardamom note on top is so fitting to coffee that it transports me instantly to a warm morning sipping a demitasse in a middle-eastern setting. But there's further along the map that this perfume can take us…

The sweetish floriental has a delectable boozy (richly rum-like for armchair travelers on the high seas seeking pearls in oysters down the depths of the Indian Ocean) and a lightly smoky vibe which engulfs you with none of the intensely floral  -and then magically dissipating- pong of some all natural perfumes. Maybe the choice to do an orientalized take on Indonesia, as Samarinda aimed to do, is a wise choice olfactory-speaking, or maybe Ethier came up with just the right balance in her palette; the result is that Samarinda is a joy to wear on skin from the lightly spicy, juicy opening with its vanillic underpinning right down to the  smoky-warm woods of the drydown. It's certainly smelling better than actual Indonesia with its yeasty trail in the air.

And what's the eco-benefit? 5% of all sales of Samarinda will be donated to the World Wildlife Fund to promote the protection efforts in Borneo and Sumatra, home of hundreds of endangered rhinos, tigers, elephants and orangutans and thousands of identified and as yet unidentified plants.

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

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.

Neela Vermeire Creations Mohur: fragrance review

Perfumery was so developed during the Mogul era in india that the most powerful empress of the Mughal dynasty, Noor Jahan popularly known as Mehrunissa, devoted herself to perfecting it during her days of confinement after the death of her husband, emperor Jehangir.  Mohur (pronounced mə-ˈhu̇r) by niche perfume line Neela Vermeire Créations is inspired by this period and named after the golden coin minted during the Moghal and the British rule of the country. In fact, one can still see the largest mohur coin ever smithed displayed at the British Museum, a 1000 mohur from the reign of Jehangir (1605-1628).  I'm saying all this to confirm that Mohur is a regal perfume; majestic, opulent, marmoreal, founded  in powdery rose and oud, yes, but buoyed by spices (cardamom), a note of smooth suede (via saffron) and light, vegetal musk. The rosy blossom performs double duty: symbol of the territories around the Middle East, but also synonymous with the "English rose".

Source: aashhi.tumblr.com via Glorynn on Pinterest

The magnificence of Neela's Mohur lies in its surpassing and transcendence of olfactory tropes: where rose usually reads as dusty, like pot pouri, it is in Mohur elevated into jammy and lightly powdery; where oud in contemporary fragrances usually smells like Band Aids, here it is discreet and only reinforces the earthiness; and finally where the two combined would end up feeling deja vu, a classical tradition seen a hundred  times  over  thanks to every niche (and some non niche) firm of the last decade, this marriage by perfumer Bertrand Duchaufour feels neoteric. Although the composition feels radiant and classically French at moments (I was briefly reminded of the feel of the classic Madame Rochas perfume and of aubepine aldehyde, then more potently of the rose and saffron in the original Agent Provocateur eau de parfum), with a lightly soapy facet, Mohur satisfies both the lover of soft woody florals and the one who is after an orientalized take on rose. The richness of the floral accords creates the rich facade of a temple where the vibrancy of the tiles beckons you to come closer to fully experience them. The depth of the spicy and earthy notes recalls mendhi decorations on the nimble hands of Shriya Saran. And the plush is evocative of silk cushions at some old palace in Rajastan where the British find themselves mesmerized strangers to a mysterious land.

Interestingly, the dabbing method yields more of the saffron rose impression of Mohur, while the spraying method accounts for the French soapy aldehydic segment which is less detectable on dried down skin. Less predictably exotic than Trayee and Bombay Bling, but nevertheless a refined, golden fragrance for those who can appreciate the mastery of true artists. It was enough to have my rose-hesitant heart ambushed and kept captive.

Mohur is part of the original trio of fragrances issued by Neela Vermeire Créations which also includes Trayee and Bombay Bling (the fourth instalment, Ashoka, is launching soon). These Indian inspired perfumes, like Chants of India, draw upon the tradition, history and cultural milieu of that vast Eastern sub-continent in which Neela herself has roots. These are truly "transparent orientals", modern and wearable, and therefore it comes as no surprise that Neela commissioned Bertrand Duchaufour to compose them for her niche line.

Notes for Neela Vermeire Creations Mohur:
Cardamom, coriander, ambrette, carrot, black pepper, elemi, Turkish rose oil, jasmine, orris, hawthorn, almond milk accord, leather, sandalwood, amber, patchouli, oudh Palao from Laos, benzoin, vanilla, tonka bean



Mohur is available as an Eau de Parfum 55ml (in refillable flacons), available at select stockists and on www.neelavermeire.com, where you can find a discovery set. As of mid-2013 a new parfum version of Mohur will be available as well.

Disclosure: I was sent a sample by Neela.

Guerlain Songe d'un Bois d'Ete: fragrance review

Songe d' un Bois d'Été is perfumer Thierry Wasser's offer to the chthonian deities, a prophylactic philter for safekeeping from all miasmata. Simply wonderful rendition of the oud/aoudh perfume raw material, with none of the synthetic Band-Aid note that often creeps us in modern compositions touting the precious essence as a protagonist, Songe d' un Bois d'Été (i.e. Dreaming of a Summery Wood, part of Les Deserts d'Orient trio) is balanced and magnificent from all angles and can become a special man's ~or a woman's who loves woody somber compositions~ scented amulet.

Straddling the line between contemporaneous sensibilities and antique exotic traditions, it has the patina of aged woods and bronze artifacts hiding in some cave in the desert, yet its Frenchiness is undeniably there too; its exceptional craftsmanship is immediately evident, its restrained balance the work of experienced hands and a Swiss organized mind. You can read Guerlain in the fine print, even if the capitalization is in Arab calligraphy. There is no excess, no overindulgence, but an ornate "abaya" cloth which hints at the contours it hides, an oil painting in saturated burnished tones. Like Encens Mythique d'Orient, it proves Wasser's maturity and heralds good things for Guerlain.

The most Arabian-inspired in the newest Guerlain trio, this intensely woody fragrance smells alternatively parched and sweetish, revealing different facets throughout the duration on the skin; somewhat medicinal at times too, yes, but with smiling mien following the sobriety, like dark leathers laid in the sun underneath hanging dried herbs (I smell laurel and myrtle). Indeed the opening of Songe d' un Bois d'Été is balmy, pinching the nose with its herbal, aromatic, sunny quality, balancing the powerful woody elements of oud and leather pungency to follow. There is an indeterminate spicy, ashy-green segment, reminiscent of crushed cardamom pods that enter Arabian coffee and chocolate desserts (indeed a hint of chocolate can be attributed to the rising of patchouli from the base) and a stamen or two of leathery saffron (reminiscent of the treatment in Cuir de Lancome).
Mingling with the aromatic top notes, this spiciness provides the piquancy needed to lift the composition. The progression is somber, diffusive and saturated, (burnished cedar and Iso-E Super take a big percentage of the formula), with intense notes of oud chips burning (the note is reminiscent of the Mona di Orio perfumes oud ingredient), myrrh resin and lush jasmine sambac; the latter lightly sweetens the proceedings with its narcotic floral facets. Not necessarily the most innovative or driest leather fragrance (that would be Guerlain's Djedi), nor the greatest woody to ever come out of the house (that distinction probably belongs to Derby), but it is so carefully composed one can't help but admire it.

Songe d' un Bois d'Été is that rare thing: an predominantly oud wood fragrance that doesn't need to be unpleasant and bitter to tout its exoticism, to mark its seal of connoisseurship, to establish itself as niche. It simply exhales quality and mastery all around and is a delightful addition to any discerning perfume wardrobe. Admittedly a little bit masculine for most women''s tastes, but none the worse for it.



The Guerlain perfume bottles of Les Deserts d'Orient are adorned with Arab-cript calligraphy down one side, the French names down the other side. They are the tall, architectural style of the collection L'Art et la Matière with the antique gold overlay on the sides holding 75ml of perfume. The concentration of the fragrances is Eau de Parfum for tenacity. Prices are set for 190euros/AED990 per bottle. The perfume is available exclusive in the UAE and the Guerlain flagship store. Also via the connections of Wim in Parfumerie Place Vendome in Brussels.

Painting by Corrodi Hermann David Salomon, Arab Carpet Merchants

Penhaligon's Amaranthine: fragrance review

I had included Amaranthine by Penhaligon's in my Top 10 Scents that Sing Spring for 2010 a while ago with the following words: "Its name denotes the eternally beautiful and unfading. The perfume, just like the name (from the Greek αμάραντος), evokes a deep purple red, a "corrupted" floral oriental with plenty of "dirty" aspects combining spiced (clovey) ylang-ylang and jasmine on a milky sandalwood and musky base. Fetish-phobics should better shy away, but those worth their salt in immersing themselves head-long into intimate scents (ooops!) will rejoice that the meadows and the flowers do not only smell of the sterile florist's or Alpine tops. As shocking ~coming from such an upper-stiff-lip British brand~ as discovering that our favourite nanny, Julie Andrews, has a va jay jay ~and a wee hole~ after all!"

So why am I back reviewing this? Probably because I have been pondering these past few weeks on how it came as an utter shock into the Miss Charm school of the Penhaligon's line-up, smiling like characters out of a Jane Austen novel with no success in hiding this Edna Pontellier amongst them! Like other outspoken feminine florals, like Passion or Grand Amour by Annick Goutal, DelRae's Amoureuse and Vero Profumo Rubj, this is a case of not being afraid to shout off the rooftops its deliciously carnal intent. An intent that is rendered like it's the most natural thing in the world!
Penhaligon’s website says “Amaranthine [part of the new Anthology series] is a corrupted floral oriental for those private moments when everything is anticipation” and by that line alone one would surmiss they're up to no good: Which they're not, in the best possible sense. Yet it was March at Perfume Posse who put the apocalyptical size of the shock value in proper terms: "Immediately and humorously nicknamed Amaranthigh by perfumistas, Amaranthine was a shot across the bow in terms of our expectations from staid Penhaligon’s. Bertrand Duchaufour’s bizarre, refulgent twist on a boudoir scent would have been about the last thing I expected from the house, and I wasn’t alone there".

Like a modern time Léonce, a callous patriach who is unshakable in his views, I was eternally stuck on how Penhaligon's as a fragrance house amounted to instant Victoriana with doilles put under the TV-set and little floral mats on the arm-rests of the couches, in a house that smelled of crushed lavender and butter-foiled scones for tea, always a little stale. Pretty as a picture and nostalgic possibly, but would I live there? No if I had any hopes of saving my jaw muscles from overexertion from the smile that would plague my face translating its ecumenical acceptance and patience.
I had only managed to be interested in Malabah, Hammam Bouquet and Castile from the house's classics previously and in Lily & Spice from the newer range; my itinerary (stopping at the outskirts of Coventry and never intending to go all the way up to Leeds) was cut short: The train was abtruptly stopped at junction "Eyes Glazing Over Victorian Posy" with a disastrous detour via "Bluebell" which had nothing to do with blue and plenty to do with Bells of Hell going ting-a-ling-a-ling.

Perfumer Bertrand Duchaufour has managed to shake this ~in hindsight~ passé notion and thrust it out of the window of that very same train. (Actually he also did a complete redecoration of that English cottage above, ushering a little French deco amidst all that plaid and floral. One can have too much of a picturtesque thing, after all). Amaranthine is travelling from station to station between fruity-ladden vines that sprout banana-bubblegum tones of quality jasmine (and lush ylang ylang) and a gently green but spicy blend of cardamom and coriander recalling not yet fully fermented tea aromatized the Middle Eastern way. And when it stops, it takes you to someplace where proper good buttery English toffee is still made (creamy sandalwood, warm musk, milky caramel tones), so not everything British is lost. Two beauties, one English, one French, are having a tryst. Simply spectacular!

Notes for Penhaligon's Amaranthine: green tea, freesia, banana leaf, coriander, cardamom, rose, carnation, clove, orange blossom, ylang ylang, Egyptian jasmine, musk, vanilla, sandalwood, condensed milk, tonka bean.

Availability and Limited editions on this link.

A special thanks to Joe for introducing me to this gem.

Photo of a nude Brigitte Bardot and an equally nude Jane Birkin via The Moly Doily blog. Claudya photo by Bettina Rheims from the Female Troubles Series

Hermes Voyage d'Hermes: fragrance review

Hermès has gained the sense of olfactive consistency that Guerlain once had back in the day thanks to its head perfumer, Jean Claude Ellena. Their latest unisex, Voyage d'Hermès , is a recapitulation, a déjà vu and a voyage not only through the body of work of Jean Claude himself, but of the house of Hermès as an entity! It's as if Voyage is a passport into the world of Hermès: Small little snippets of numerous fragrances hide beneath a hazy cloud of a formula that must have been laborious to construct without falling apart. Yet what has Jean Claude succeeded in doing, at this point in his career, is creating his own syntax and his own vocabulary for communicating which translates as perfectly leggible and intermixable, even in snippets of conversation that all mingle together harmoniously.

In order to appreciate Voyage d'Hermès on whether it succeeds to convey the vision behind it, we need to access the perfumer's technique in rapport with the values dictated by a mass-marketed but still prestigious Hermès fragrance such as Voyage.

Starting by the latter, we're "stumbling" on the mega-success of Terre d'Hermès, a masculine which is -according to the month in question- the first or second best-selling fragrance in France and terribly popular throughout the world as well. Its mineral & airy interpretation of the Mediterranean coast-line, full of fresh breeze, the whisper of citrus groves from afar and vegetal waste rotting on the hard rock, is the transfiguration of an lived-in impression into a scent (aided by a generous helping of IsoE Super, a synthetic which turns the intriguing aromata into a legible abstraction). A new mainstream release would not want to disrupt the commercial success of Terre, but at the same time, it should bring in women too (sharing thus the desirable facets of Terre) and consolidate the past and future of the house into the consience of everyone. In many ways, it feels to me that Hermès was simplifying its historical codes into an Esperanto of signs for everyone. To that degree they have certainly succeeded.

Ellena himself communicated his aim in composing Voyage d'Hermès, not as the desire to create a figurative or programmatic ~to borrow a term from music~ fragrance "but to create abstract art. A play on paradoxes. Complementary elements. No, this perfume would not smell of a kind of wood, a flower, a particular raw material, but of the unknown in all its glory. To express its nuances and unexpected pairings. Familiar, surprising. Energy, comfort. Masculine, feminine. An infectious mixing of genres. A woody fresh, musky fragrance." Ellena's style (and so is Olivia Giacobetti's in a similar vein) is the quiet, yet subtly intricate music for a quartet, rather than the bustle of a Wagnerian symphony with brass horns and full percussion joining. This is an aesthetic choice, not the result of simplistic or unchallenging incompetence. Comparing ~say~ a traditional Guerlain or 1930s Patou to a modern Hermès composed by Ellena would therefore be a futile exercise in omphaloskepsis. One either likes one style or not, but that doesn't mean that the two are poised on the same plane of existence; they're actually poles apart.
In that regard, Ellena in Voyage d'Hermès is reffarming his signature touch and on top of that creates something that cannot be pinpointed into anything familiar in nature; because there are plenty of familiar accents in the formula itself, as we'll see.

Voyage d'Hermès feels like a composition created on two tiers: The first movement is a flute, oboe and glockenspiel trio, namely the grapefruit-citrus chord he excells at (see Rose Ikebana, Un Jardin sur le Nil, Terre d'Hermès, even Cologne Bigarrade) with a touch of icy artemisia (see Angeliques sous la Pluie with their perfect gin & tonic bitterness) alongside the spicy suaveness of cardamom (diaphanous as in Un Jardin apres la Mousson, yet also a little sweaty as in Déclaration). To that musical line respond clarinets of other spices: some pepper, some ginger. On skin the spices are much more pronounced on the whole, with a small sub-facet (pungent, even a bit leathery) that personally reminds me of Eau d'Hermès.
The second movement is constructed on a basso continuo (the Iso E Super, perceived by many as cedar, alongside an incredibly lasting cluster of musks) with a lightly underlining phrase by a viola, the floral note of hedione (or an analogous material) giving a nod to Dior's Eau Sauvage and an elegant amber-ambergris base recalling Eau de Merveilles. This second movement is most alike Poivre Samarkande from the Hermessences, with its overdose of Iso-E Super. Seeing as Poivre Samarkande is the uncontesatble best-seller in the Hermès boutique in Athens, Greece, ever since the line's introduction, it makes sense that Hermès wanted for a Voyage composition a formula that has already been OK-ed by a warm Mediterranean country: After all, the very term Voyage makes us unconsiously dream of vacations, doesn't it? The two Roudnitska homages (Eau d'Hermès and Eau Sauvage), on the other hand, are unifying two houses and two perfumers into one style uniquely its own.

This clarion call of style, ensured, affirmed, self-reliant, is the fragrance's moot point: It means that if you like previous Jean Claude Ellena fragrances, you will like Voyage d'Hermes. If you don't, there are very little chances that it will change your mind. It also means that if you have all the segmentated make-up-pieces in your perfume collection, you might not be tempted to sort out the Visa and buy the new fragrance. But seeing as this is a mainstream release meant for everyone, not just maniacal collectors, those people will be few and far between.

The bottle design is spectacular: pure Hermès, both classic, inspired by la petite maroquinairie ~and specifically the Evelyne coin purse~ but also subtly modern high-tech too, reminiscent of USB sticks to put in one's computer (formerly known as "travel sticks, because you took them along while travelling, is it any coincidence?) or of a shiny silvery iPod, blasting a daydreaming Debussy tune. The promotional video shows a bird flying towards a horse running in the sea, showing ice, desert and water: an analogy of the segments that the fragrance goes through as well.

Notes for Voyage d'Hermès: citron, bergamot, coriander, ginger, artemisia, cardamom, black pepper, tea, birch, white musk, amber and cedar.

Available in 35ml, 100ml & 150ml bottles, available at major department stores carrying Hermès.
For those registered on the mailing list of Hermès, please use this link to see the promotional video.


Music: "Divertimento for Flute, Oboe and Clarinet" by Malcolm Arnold with Meera Gudipati, flute; Steven Robles, oboe; and James Calix, clarinet.
Print by Nhyen Phan Chanh (1932). Hermes official Voyage d'Hermes ad.

Christian Dior Escale a Pondichery: fragrance review

If the idea of travelling to far away, sweaty places full of the pungency of warm bodies, overripe fruit at the marketplace, mud and animals' dung appeals to you more than the actual travelling, there is the escapism of travelogue fragrance snippets meant to ignite your olfactory nerve in stictly non-offensive ways. Escale à Pondichéry is the latest release from parfums Christian Dior following Escale à Portofino from 2008. The new cologne is a tribute to the erstwhile ex-French Colony in India and is the second instalment in the series "les escales de Dior" (Dior's ports-of-call), initiated and composed by François Demachy, Senior vice president of olfactive development of perfumes for the LVMH group(he created Fahrenheit 32 for Dior as well). And is appropriately accompanied by a make-up follow-up in a Rose Pondichery nude-rose gloss to go with it (don't ever let anyone tell you you're not matchy-matchy, huh?)


According to the Hindu Business Line, Dior scheduled the official fragrance launch at The Dune Eco Beach Hotel in Puduchery in a move of almost parochial emphasis. The celebration took 3 days and 40 journalists from around the world staying at the popular 36-acre eco-friendly resort.

The Eau-de-Cologne-with-a-twist interpretation of the Escales de Dior series blossomed into pleasantly appealing local folklore in last year's Escale à Portofino with its Italian accents of bergamot, citron, petitgrain, glorious orange blossoms and bitter almonds, all part of the local flora. The pneuma of those colognes is expressed by the link between the raw materials and the chosen destinations, lands of culture and fragant history. François Demachy next chose India, inspired by the fragrances from Pondicherry and Kerala, to unravel the exotic fragrances of India and the raw materials we have come associate with the peninsula: Jasmine, sandalwood and tea. According to the press release "The perfumer has selected a black tea enwrapped in a fresh and light signature that harmonizes with a spirit of happy insouciance".

The idea of a light cologne in an Indian setting has been previously explored in the perplexing yet astute Un Jardin après la Mousson by Jean Claude Ellena for Hermès. Boucheron created Jaipur, a different beast, a fruity oriental inspired by the legendary city of jewels; Patou featured the banana note of ylang- ylang and jasmine in the floriental Sira des Indes; while Kenzo Amour Indian Holi even has "holi hai" written on the red bottle in Hindi! Even Cabochard was inspired by memories of a soujourn of Madame Grès at the exotic peninsula. And of course there's always Shalimar... India has never been short of pefumes dedicated to its olfactory traditions!

It seems however that travel destinations are very popular right now with big companies (judging by the travelogue of the Guerlain scents which we were the first to reveal back in August last year or the travel exclusives of Lauder and Lancôme) as are Eaux de Cologne in general (from the new Hermès Cologne collection including Eau de Pamplemousse Rose and Eau de Gentiane Blanche to the Chanel Exclusif Eau de Cologne which pre-emptied the trend).

India however has not been unknown to the Christian Dior fashion house: Chandernagore/Chandannagar, another Indian town of French colonisation, was referenced as early as in Dior's Fall-Winter 1947 collection! In 1962, Dior held two shows in Delhi and Mumbai and the last creation presented was ‘Voyage en Inde’ (Voyage to India). And of course the Dune hotel nicely references the now classic Dune fragance by Dior, a non-ozone "marine" for the 90s. However Goa, the ulta-popular destination for the new generation of India-travellers was eschewed in favour of Pondichéry, “a distant and exotic destination, an ideal of escapism and travel”, according to Demachy.

In Dior's Escale à Pondichry the diaphanous, almost colourless juice ~in the matelassé glass bottle that is meant to transcend the collection~ delivers a shot of refreshing and nicely bittersweet aroma meant to act as a journey carnet in very simple strokes. Four major Indian ingredients went into the making of this perfume and they're mingled into the composition with delicate mannerisms that should please without aspirations of symphonic cadenzas. Demachy lists them as Cardamom Essence in the top; Jasmine Sambac Absolute in the heart; Sandalwood Essence in the bottom; and Black Tea Extract as a "fil rouge" (common thread). Although one almost expects by default some spice in a composition inspired by India, the graceful weaving through of cardamom, used to aromatize both coffee and tea, is the protagonist in the delicate and contemporary take on a refreshing cologne of citrus opening with a pleasingly dry base and very transparent floral accents. The composition doesn't especially smell of the tannic facets of stong brews of black tea (and aren't there enough tea fragrances on the market already?), but more of an abstract idea of ambery woodiness and lightly smoky powder (probably due to synthetic musks). Will it prove as popular as Escale à Portofino did? It remains to be seen. The demographic is the same, but I predict that this one might attract more men without being too masculine in scent.

From a visual point of view the advertisements with the big-straw hat blonde Edita , all decked in white bat-sleeves and pop sunglasses bring to mind more of Estée Lauder or Elizabeth Arden cruise-style collections for WASP ladies than the exotic locales of India or the boho-chic tourists that pilgrimage. And it leaves one in aporia as to why Kalyani Chawla (the indian face of Dior) wasn't appropriate for this project of all projects! But the marketing angle is thus apparent and who can blame them? The modern consumer of globalised galivanting is far removed from the Ravi Shankar apprentices who followed en route to the spiritual. Perhaps taking that last observartion in mind might ellucidate the facets that surface in the latest fragrance.


Escale à Pondichéry launched in India on Saturday March 21st, launches in European boutiques on May 28th and is expected to arrive on the US shores in July 2009. It will be available in 75ml bottles of Eau de Toilette for 64,95€ .

Oh and if Dior is taking ideas, might I suggest the next escale is inspired by Assos in Cephalonia, Greece? (click for pic here)

Pics via Dune hotel blog and fr.bkrw.com.

Declaration by Cartier: fragrance review & comparison with L'essence and Bois Bleu

In horror fiction phantoms are creatures who consume other life forms as sustenance, and are able to perfectly mimic any creature they consume. Déclaration by Cartier is perfumer's Jean Claude Ellena's own homage to a phantom's mental connotations and in its turn the propagator of legion of phantoms in modern perfumery. But like its namesake aviation F-4 counterpart (affectionately called "the rhinoceros", although its first proposed ~and quickly rejected~ names were Satan or Mithra) it has done everything in a stealth of silent power!
Largely unsung and not given the proper attention it so richly deserves, almost taken for granted, it is nothing short of an absolute masterpiece of fusing cutting-edge modernity into a classical aromatic cologne formula for men. Eau d'Hermès (a 1951 Edmond Roudnitska creation) has been haunting Jean Claude Ellena's subconsious for ages, it seems. Its fantastically ripe, "skanky" interweaving of cedar, cumin, birchwood and moss manages to provide snippets of Jean Claude's insignia in almost everything he touches, interpreted and sieved through the most minutiae-capable colander; in Déclaration we see the student at once pay homage to the teacher and further the cause in most confident and spiritual brushstrokes of a mature Sōsho calligraphy. So much so that Jean Claude himself has admitted a partiality to this one out of his scented progeny. But whereas Eau d'Hermès went for the leathery, Jean Claude opted for the dry woody, injecting a large dollop of woody synthetic Iso-E Super, a material with which he has been experimenting for years to impressive effect.

"Created for men, but also enjoyed by women, Cartier's Déclaration was created for those who are in love, have an appreciation of openness, and feel passion". The fragrance erupted on the scene in 1998 like the ripples of lava slowly coming down the mountain: it has since consumed everything in its trail, influencing major players in its aromatic wake and pre-empting the new sharp, dry woody masculines like Colonia Intensa for Aqua di Parma (also by Jean Claude Ellena), Cipresso di Toscana by Aqua di Parma, Gucci by Gucci, John Varvatos Vintage and the newest niche masculine by Ormonde Jayne, Zizan; fragrances which gracefully followed the dearth of marines inaugurated by Bourdon's Cool Water two decades ago. And not a moment too soon!
My own personal encounter with it was buying it for myself upon launch, lured by the sexily fresh-sweat-vibe it exuded and then having my other half smelling it on me, usurping it most decisively, claiming it and making it his own ever since, to the most delicious effects which are better left to the reader's fertile imagination. It makes him feel refreshed , as if he's seeing the dawn for the first time opening windows which give on a view of the autumn forest, he says. Needless to say Déclaration occupies a very special segment of my olfactory cortex!

My friend Dane described it in a conversation as "a taxi driver in a forest" the other day and he couldn't be more accurate. If he had likened Déclaration to chantey, that would be close as well: The sweaty side married to the freshness of open horizons, all obeying a rhythmical discipline that engulfs you. The marriage of lucid clarity and sous-bois depth prove its masterful treatment of contrasting elements.
The jolting cumin opening is often feared as coming across as sweaty and indeed this is no scent for Waspy brokers who want to exude the prolonged latheriness of a morning shower-blast topped with a hundred grooming products à la Bret Easton Ellis heroes. On the contrary, this is very à la française, a scent for men the old style. Not caricatures of manufactured virility, you comprehend, but men who breathe and live and wear T-shits or wife-beater vests with a little humidity on their chest hair; a little overbearing or even narcissitic at times but passionate and sincere nonetheless. The idiosyncratic bitter citrusy elements (bergamot and bitter orange) and the green artemisia recall the comparable treatment Ellena reserved for his lustruous bitter-orange and limes themed Cologne Bigarade and Bigarade Concentrée for the Frédéric Malle line. But the real coup de grace comes in the guise of another exotic spice, cardamom, which makes me envision a slightly cocky chap in pressed chinos enjoying his aromatized inky tea taken in long, sensuous sips while checking the atractive passerbys.
This is Ellena's nod to Bulgari's tea-themed creations he authored previously, Eau Parfumée au Thé Vert (1992) and Eau Parfumée au Thé Vert Extrême (1996). What is left is the ambience of a lasting warmth, not rendered easily by laundry musks but fanned out on dry, luxurious, slightly smoky woods, which manage to not obscure the composition but play upon light and shadow like a black & white photograph of a compelling and charismatic French actor.

The bottle reprises the watch mechanism of Cartier watches' winding section with its cap (You have to pull the little metal holder down to let the sprayer free, just like releasing the security of a watch winder). The glass part looks as if two parts of a whole have been cut and re-assembled at an angle creating a small heart on the shoulders if looked from above, which gives a playful and even eerily girly vibe (and which bodes well with the unisex concept).

Notes for Déclaration by Cartier
Top: bergamot, bitter orange, birchwood
Middle: cardamom, wormwood, juniper wood, artemesia
Bottom: vetiver, oakmoss, cedarwood

Déclaration by Cartier is available at major department stores around the world.

Two flankers exist, both created by Jean Claude Ellena: L'essence de Déclaration (2001), a minimally different version on the original with the addition of rosewood, immortelle, a little amber and a lightening up of the slightly medicinal aspects of the original, encased in the same design bottle in teal glass; and Déclaration Bois Bleu (limited edition in 2001), which is a "fresher" interpretation in a light blue bottle (which to me is usually foreboding of "sporty" things for people not into sports, really). For the latter Chandler Burr commented: "This one is PG-13, but that simply means the cuminic body odor is gone (some will miss it; more will not). Its personality has been smoothed and calmed and de-Frenchified". Personally I'd rather have the original, as I feel the aquatic addition skews it in a direction I am not sure I'd want to stalk.
There is also Déclaration Eau Genereuse (a Limited edition from 2003), of which "generous water" the concept of is reportedly a re-working in Eau de Cologne style.
Cartier went on and produced Roadster for men recently. Which is pretty nice, but no match for the strange allure of Déclaration, despite aiming at roughly the same demographic.

Related reading on Perfume Shrine: Jean Claude Ellena scents and opinions, Masculine fragrances.

Pics via Couleur parfum and Parfum de pub. Vincent Cassel photographed by Vincent Peters.