Who is questioning the Guide?

No fragrance company has taken an official stance on "Perfumes The Guide" yet. Nevertheless, at least a handful have personally contacted me with questions on what was mentioned about their products following my review of the new guide by Luca Turin and Tania Sanchez. Therefore I am deducing that it's still early and developments will follow. Hopefully those will be for the greater good of the dedicated perfume lover and not to the detriment of free expression and critique.

However upon perusing perfume boards and especially those who are not as simpatico to Luca as Perfume of Life is, such as the huge fragrance board of Makeupalley and the populous forum of Basenotes, I came across this scathing questioning which provided pause for thought.

Upon discussing the authors' opinions on current Caron perfumes, someone asked just what exactly happened to Caron to which this is the reply.

"They don't go into many details {about reformulations}. They just say that everything has been given a "soapy rose drydown" and is now thin and wan.
Both assertions are untrue.
And last week I tested four new Carons on my skin and let them dry down for hours. Not a trace of "soapy rose"!
Yep, and they claim that it's happened very recently (within the last year). Well, last week I went to the boutique in New York myself and compared the current perfumes with some older (1-3 years old) samples and decants that I have.
There was no difference. They haven't been "ruined" at all. It's a lie".

~posted by MizLiz211 (an avid Caron collector) on 4/15/2008 12:02PM on MUA

The criticism of Richard Fraysse's work on the Carons is worth pondering on, especially in light of Turin's raves on the recent reformulation of Mitsouko by Edouard Flechier for Guerlain; a reformulation which had most of the perfume lovers up at arms about it ruining the iconic chypre by seriously reducing the oakmoss base due to restrictions on the material's use by IFRA and the EU.

Hot on the heels of the above quote, comes this one, which I think applies to much more on the Net than the issue at hand (but let's not digress):

"An opportunity to rant: Have you noticed how often in LT's writing it turns out that something you will never be able to sniff (Nombre Noir, original Whatever) is the VERY BEST, transcendent, fabulous, and what you can buy now is SWILL?
Perhaps this is in fact true. Perhaps everything gets ruined.

But also perhaps:

1. Memory is faulty, even LT's memory.
2. Some things do get improved.

And isn't it convenient that I, the reader, cannot sniff LT's comparison for myself and therefore judge whether he has rocks in his head or not?
I think LT is a very very gifted writer -- I wish I could write as well. I'm thrilled that perfumes are being given the attention they deserve - if people are going to make money assessing wines, why not perfumes?

But the only sort of guide I'm interested in right now is something that would tell me what to buy now that Violette Precieuse has been changed. (Worsened? Depends on what you like. It happens to not have been changed in a direction I want to wear. But is it worse? Dunno.)"

~posted by Sarasotagirl (herself a book critic and journalist) on 4/15/2008 11:44AM on MUA

These are some serious doubts and they are stated by respected members of the fragrance board on Makeupalley, a place which Tania Sanchez credits as an infinite source of fragrance education.
It would be really enlightening and useful if the authors chimed in to clarify and reply to them and I am giving them the opportunity here, if they wish to pursuit it.

To be fair and striving for impartiality, as is customary to Perfume Shrine, I have to point out that in this truly Titan task they undertook, they reviewed almost 1500fragrances. Doing the math and supposing it would suffice if they didn't try them all out on both their skins, that's 700 each in less than 1.5 year! Some relative haste had to be in action if only to be professionally on time for the deadlines of the editor.
Furthermore, someone could question the memory of any individual ~and certainly in some cases it transpires through the writing that not all different concentrations of certain perfumes had been put to the test, such as was the case with Chanel No.5 till very recently per Luca's admission, or still remains so with certain others). But, and this is a big but, I wouldn't doubt the gas chromatograph and mass spectrometer on Luca's side. An objective and definitive test to be sure! Then again, it wouldn't be easy to run all classics in different batches through it to ascertain differences with the current versions.
The matter is terribly complicated.

Perhaps after all is said nothing sinister is at play and simply expectations are set very high because Luca Turin has earned the position of authority in fragrant matters and members on perfume boards act in proviso to that.

Now that Turin is leaving Flexitral after patenting several molecules to pursue a different path we wish him to go ahead and sell the innovations to the fragrance industry, if that means that a sufficient quality level would be attained to please us all. Because that is the crux of the matter which unites us all.

One silly question remains: what will they do with all those bottles they have accumulated (almost 2000 bottles per Tania's words)? Do they have a contingency plan?

Pic courtesy of Athinorama

Optical Scentsibilities: the Hug

What better way to show affection, protectiveness and love than a hug? In that spirit, the pose of a woman hugging a perfume bottle has been used a lot in advertising and it is our study subject for today.

A hug can be maternal and protective of a precious entity, signifying tenderness. As in Fidji by Guy Laroche.


And the Mother and Child by G.Klimt.



A hug can also signify daydreaming, and in it the freedom to be what one trully is. As in Caron's tender and contemplative Fleur de Rocaille.



Or in this art print in 60s style.



A hug can also be slightly provocative, sensually tantalising and promising escapades of an amorous sort. As in this ad of Senso by Ungaro featuring Nastassja Kinski from the 1980s.

Or in this famous illustration by Mel Ramos Hunts for the Best (1981), where the model suggestivelly embraces the topmost of the ketchup bottle.

Additionaly there is the semi-hug, a way of displaying the fragrance bottle than actually bringing it close to one's bosom, which can mean that it is prized loot; like in this ad for Covet by Sarah Jessica Parker. If you had followed Perfume Shrine, you will remember the wonderfully witty commercial for the scent, directed by J.P Goude.

It can also signify contemplation of the value of what its true essence means to you, like once again in the exotic shores of Fidji. The perfume becomes you, as the tagline said: "Every woman is an isle. Fidji is her perfume".

It can be your true essence itself, the magical elixir that transforms the woman into a plummed bird such as the Coco ads with Vanessa Paradis as a paradise bird (ingenious). Thus hugging the bottle is embracing the last frontier of imagination...



And finally, when something is as iconic and a mythos of its own, like Chanel No.5 is, it simply demands to be carried on the bosom as the insignia of excellence and the true arbiter of taste. Gigantic in its message as well as its physical size, it becomes bigger than life, fit to be hugged by only another living myth: Catherine Deneuve.

Which one is your favourite hug?

Pics from okadi, parfumdepub, ebay, allposters.com and art.com

The Quest for the Great Dry Citrus

Perfumeshrine receives lots of mail from readers. Some with kind words of admiration, some with suggestions (which are much appreciated), some with questions on various matters. The latter usually make me ponder and try to come up with thoughtful answers, which I am not always sure make the grade and help along, except when people do follow up and thank me. But it's worth the effort every time, I think.

This is one such email I got recently:

"Dear all,

I am a man fascinated with fragrances.

Ever since my brother, working at our small town perfume shop dressing up windows, brought home little bottles (called testers I found out much later) of fragrances. It was in the early 80s and I still remember that I was impressed with Cacharel's Yatagan {correction of editor: this comes from Caron} and Dior's Eau Savage {sic} .

My love affair with fragrances continued in a distance, until in the late 80s early 90s when I desired to have a bottle of CK's Obsession. We got it from Canada from a relative of my first love. I used it for some time; sometimes intoxicated by its power sometimes disturbed. Next there came the CK One again from Canada (!). That was a big bottle and we happily shared it with my second bigger love. I was happy with CK's freshness and cleanliness.

Then something powdery came in the market and it was a bit nostalgic of childhood smells around loveable old aunts... I bought my first fragrance... a set of Le Male. This must have been in 1994 or 1995. Years passed by with some Sander's Simple, some Kouros, even some Lanvin to discover 6 years ago, due to a new big love, the fragrance collection of Comme des Garcons. I chose my first CDG after asking their Paris flagstore to post me scented papers of Odeur 53 and 71. By that time I was already far away from my hometown. I chose 71 and accompanied it with Dry Clean by CDG. These were my fragrances for three years. Then there came 53. Now I am in my 2nd bottle of 53. Meanwhile this last summer I wore Eau de Lalique which I found to be quite impressive for an eau and look forward for a bottle more. I have been researching for the great dry citrus fragrance for a few months and that is how I came across Eau de Lalique. It took me 10 days to decide on it and I was happy I found it. In the meantime I tried CDG's Play on paper and my skin. It was disappointing. I received also a sample booklet of luxuriously put together perfumes by Serge Lutens; not my cup of tea I must admit as I am rather picky with my teas nowadays. I haven't tried the Guerlen' s {sic} Eau, with citrus. I am afraid that, that too is going to be too sweet.

My kindest regards.

A devoted fragrance lover.

Michail"

A couple of comments, first:
I gather this was sent to more than one person, there are a couple of mistakes that might be attributed to a newcomer to fragrance lingo or not and there is no direct question. Also I am a little perplexed that the writer was not able to find Clavin Klein fragrances where he is, considering they were available in department stores, as far as I recall.
But I reckon the question is the quest for the great dry citrus. Which is valid enough. Therefore dry citrus recs should follow.

Dear Michail,
thank you for choosing Perfume Shrine to ask this question.
I think you have dabbled in a cornucopia of perfumes that are not strictly confined to citrusy smells, so your tastes are really more varied than you might think.
Congrats on the daring appreciation of Yatagan too; a scent that not many would brave. I really did laugh out on the Lutens comment, as those are very much revered and somehow your outlook on them came as a surprising and I might say unaffected, refreshing change. And yes, they are rather sweet perfumes to begin with, per general consensus, so it's all right.

Considering that citrus scents are so popular and varied, sourcing their top notes from various fruits that invariably have a different odour profile and therefore different sweetness level, I would venture to recommend a few that to my nose seem like what you are looking for. Orange and mandarin render sweeter notes than lemon or lime (such as in CKOne) and begamot is a more classic bittersweet note. Neroli has a more floral tonality as it is distilled from flowers, while petitgrain is another ingredient that might remind you of citrusy and lightly green notes. Therefore reading what the notes for each fragrance are might help you in your quest.

The Eau Imperiale de Guerlain you are referring to is not too sweet, if you are hesitant to try it. It is however very fleeting and that might disappoint you if you are accustomed to such tenacious and potent fragrances as those you mention.
A good choice for a dry lemon with the background of cypress wood is the now classic Eau d'Hadrien by Annick Goutal. A smaller brand that you can however find where you are.

A tenacious and easier to procure citrus is O by Lancome, a scent that is marketed to women, but which has been borrowed by men since it launched in the late 1960s. The crushed lemon leaves of the beginning get anchored down by a little sandalwood, which lends a sensual touch to the more acerbic opening.

In that vein I would also recommend Eau Dynamissante from Clarins, a skincake brand that has produced this as their first aromatic foray, claiming aromatheurapeutic benefits from its use as well. It's bracing, cool and quite dry and would satisfy your summer needs admirably.

For a grapefuit fix may I suggest Citrus Paradisi by Czech and Speake. It's a clean and realistic smell with a little smokiness in the background. Also Vie de Chateau by Patricia de Nicolai is another bracing cologne, technically not just citrusy, but more green and woody, that you might enjoy nevertheless. Originally conceived for a prince (prince Sigalas) by de Nicolai who is related to the family Guerlain it is a classy composition that encompasses many acerbic notes allied to herbs and aromatic grasses that lend a distinguished dryness.
Another unisex easily got scent is Un Jardin sur le Nil by Hermes, opening on what they say is green mango, yet I perceive as tart grapefruit. It segues to woody notes and a little whiff of incense. It might be a little less dry than Vie de Chateau though.

Another confident De Nicolai scent is New York which combines bergamot and Sicilain lemon with spice and some amber to produce a scent that is trully mellow and polished.
Douro(formerly Lords) by Penhaligon's is a more powdery, sharp and soapy rendition of citrus notes on a woody, aromatic base and you might find it to your liking.

For the more obscure fragrances, please refer to this excellent and most reliable site (to which I am not affiliated, by the way): Aus Liebe Zum Duft/ First in Fragrance.

I hope you do get to find what you are looking for.

Regards,
Perfume Shrine



Dear readers, if you have any more recommendations, please mention them in the comments section. Thanks!

Next week we review chypre fragrances of the enchanted kind!...
Pics come from Luckyscent and Garden.co.uk

Coty Chypre: fragrant pilgrimage and review

By guest writer Denyse Beaulieu/Carmancanada

When friends complained to Pablo Picasso that the portrait of Gertrude Stein he’d just painted didn’t look like her, he answered something along the lines of: “Don’t worry. It will.”

Though the famous portrait was executed in 1904, well before Coty even dreamt of his mythical Chypre – he’d only just come out with his first fragrance, La Rose Jacqueminot, well anchored in the figurative tradition of perfumery at the time – it is what comes to mind when I try to analyse his 1917 Chypre. Does it in any way resemble its long and illustrious line of descendants, from the me-too Millot Crêpe de Chine or Chypre Sauzé to Jacques Guerlain’s two-tiered answer to his rival, Mitsouko and Sous le Vent, the 1946 double-whammy of Germaine Cellier’s leather-laden Bandit and Edmond Roudnitska’s rich, mulled-spice Femme, on to Christian Dior’s masterful trilogy of Miss Dior (Paul Vacher), Diorling and Diorama (both by Roudnitska), culminating it the very épure of Chypre-ity that is Yves Saint Laurent’s first namesake fragrance, Y…
It would. It will.

Smell Coty Chypre as you would scrutinize the sepia photograph of an ancestor and, yes, you will find the bone structure: bergamot, floral heart, oakmoss and labdanum. But the expression of the face, the inscrutable screen of these eyes and what they were gazing upon, what film passed in front of them as the model posed, how can you penetrate that otherness, sunk in another time?

If Chypre had a gaze, it would have seen the last remnants of the ancient order falling apart. The 19th century rotting in the charnel trenches of the Great War still being fought as it was being composed, bottled and sold; as it adorned the wrists and napes of the last Belle Époque beauties.

Yes, with hindsight, Chypre would come to resemble the family to which it gave its name. But it is set in a world lost to us; a world where heavy blows had already been dealt to our vision of things; the blows out of which the 20th century would emerge. And so it hovers between the old, figurative, narrative order of scent and the invention of modern perfumery – of which François Coty can be said to be the father.

Cubism was already going full steam in 1917. Did Coty like the art? His social and political values would express themselves a few years later, when he bought the daily Le Figaro and used it to express his loathing of communism and his admiration for fascism, Italian style. Though Italian Fascism did, at the outset, attract Modernist movements in art and literature, it would repudiate them for the monumental, pompous art favoured by totalitarian regimes. Perhaps Coty, a powerfully instinctive man as well as a visionary industrialist, had no truck with the Cubists and the Fauves who were the toast of Paris but he did, thanks to his intuition, latch on to the same gesture as his artistic contemporaries. He went primitive; he exhumed the archaic to find the face of modern perfumery. Chypre is not a name chosen by chance: apart from being an island with a powerful perfume tradition (something that the Corsican Coty may well have known), it is the abode of the mighty Aphrodite. Neither the naughty philanderer of late Greek and Roman mythology, nor the slender marble nymph of Classic Greek statuary, or the pearly-fleshed shepherdess of 18th century boudoirs: but the old, stern, primitive, man-eating mistress of the spring renewal of vegetation, the impulse to spring life fed on the death of winter. She sleeps on a bed of earthy moss and pungent herbs, anointed with thick redolent oils of jasmine, bathed in the fumes of sizzling golden resin.

But the goddess is also absolutely modern, in the way that Picasso’s Demoiselles d’Avignon are modern, with their hybrid, primitive African masks and lascivious bordello line-up. François Coty was one of the first – not the first, certainly, for the Guerlains father and son had already used coumarin and vanillin – to fully use the properties of the new synthetics. What’s more, his Chypre is the first step towards abstraction in perfume, which would reach its full expression in Chanel N°5. It doesn’t represent a flower or any other natural odorant; it doesn’t tell a story – unlike its contemporaries, say Guerlain Pois de Senteur or Caron N’Aimez que moi, both launched the same year. Coty had already explored that avenue with his wildly successful L’Origan, mother of the floral orientals, with its methyl-ionone (violet) and dianthine (carnation) accord on an “ambréine” base made of coumarin and vanillin. Edmond Roudnitska called it (I paraphrase, having lost the original reference), “the first modern, brutal perfume”.

Chypre belongs to the same brutal, neo-primitive aesthetics. In the flanks of the 1950s sealed flacon I was lucky enough to acquire, the time-distilled, resinous juice releases a scent that only hints to the later developments of the family. The hesperidic top notes have vanished decades ago, leaving the starring role in the “débouché” – to reprise Roudnitska’s beautiful term – to aromatic herbs, kitchen herbs, really: sage and thyme, and quite possibly vetiver. The floral absolute is jasmine, and it is weighed down with concentrated oils, further pulled into the unctuous base of labdanum, patchouli and oakmoss. In this version, and in the condition it is in, the labdanum’s honeyed, amber notes predominate to pull the composition towards the oriental end of the spectrum. But even in the more modern executions – the 60s eau de cologne, for instance – the amber has pride of place, reinforced by the the vanillin and the hay-like sweetness coumarin. The bitterness and fungus-earthiness of the oakmoss hasn’t yet reached the peak it would when exasperated by isobutyl-quinoline (as in Bandit); or perhaps the vanished bergamot provided the balance between tartness and earthiness. Aphrodite, she of the many guises, is a vegetal goddess: infinitely seductive with her sweet, dizzying fragrances, and willing to take on the adornments of modern chemistry to present a new mask. Her archaic ruthlessness is never far, however, from this attractive surface: Chypre is not a dazzlingly smooth composition like her tawny-flanked daughter Femme would be three decades on, but an assemblage of broad contrasting strokes, grounded on an oriental pedestal of remote antiquity. In a way, it’s amazing that she has given so very different children to so many brilliant perfumers… But she crossed the Mediterranean to visit François Coty in Paris. Perhaps, while kissing him, she bestowed the poisonous gift of hubris, the “sin” (though the term was unknown in Ancient Greece) of exceeding measure and reason through ambition… His disastrous far-right politics and catastrophic divorce ruined Coty, once one of the richest men in the world. He died a pauper. And his Chypre lives on only as a myth – the one scent the majority of perfume lovers dream of seeing risen from the mausoleum of discontinued perfumes – and through her abundant spawn. When you bow your head through time to inhale her essences, it is her daughters you seek. She will come to resemble them. But they can never go back to her utter, arrogant statement.
Pic of Maria Callas from the film by Pasolini "Medea".

Read on the rest of the Chypre Series on Perfume Shrine following the links:

Part 1: origin of chypre fragrances

Part 2: chypre fragrance ingredients and formulae

Part 3: "nouveau chypres" or modern "chypre" fragrances

Part 4: chypre perfume aesthetics

Part 5: chypre perfume chronology and the zeitgeist

Part 6: masculine chypres

Part 7: chypre fragrances time forgot

Marble image of Aphrodite, Artemis and Apollo from the Treasure of Siphnians in Delphi, Greece circa 525BC courtesy of arthist.cla.umn.edu

London Calling...part 4: at Roja Dove's place

When one is faced with greatness it manifests itself in no uncertain terms. Awe, amazement and a feeling of having tingles down the spine greet you upon entering one of the sacred altars of perfume, Roja Dove’s Haute Parfumerie on the 5th floor of Harrod’s, the Titanic of all stores: impressive, astounding in fact and certain to lead you to your doom. Financially speaking, that is.

Roja Dove is no stranger to perfume and his very special place in that Mecca of shoppers is magnificent. Formerly professeur de parfums at Guerlain (a title he gave himself, when they were at a loss on how to call him, as he is not a “nose” ~meaning a practicing perfumer) he is in reality a Roger who spelled his name the way it is pronounced in a heavy-set aristocratic English accent.
Haute Parfumerie was a concept near and dear to his heart, as it is meant to work like a museum and a shop combined: among the myriads of vintage bottles in opulent Bacarrat crystals there are many recreations and infinitesimal versions of favourite smells for customers to pick and choose, so that they are guaranteed to find their perfect holy grail scent or just the latest fling with which to dance the night away. All subject to their taste.

The grand staircase that recalls an Egyptian tomb fit for a Pharaoh in a modern version of Liz Taylor’s "Cleopatra"is nowhere near possible to describe without being unjust and the evocative lighting of the space is akin to entering a shrine to the high priest of perfume indeed. Rows and rows of vintage bottles with impressive names stand in aloof poise, among them the Bacarrat rarity Les Larmes Sacrees de Thebes (=sacred tears of Thebes ~fit for the Egyptian theme!), Nina Ricci’s discontinued classic Coeur Joie (=heart of joy), Ombre Rose by Jean Charles Brosseau with its rich powdery hay and oppoponax base or the individual Caron masterpiece of Ernest Daltroff En Avion, dedicated to aviation and its brave first steps. Indeed they do have many of the Caron urn perfumes: those are the pure parfum/extrait perfumes that the venerable French house only sells from big crystal “vats” at their boutiques by request.
They also have the rare gems of Christian Dior from the days of their illustrious past: Diorama and Diorling. They are too beautiful to dismiss in a single expletive, so they deserve their own space and time in the near future to which you will be treated shortly.

Additionally Roja has created some individual scents for selling there, as I found out for about £2000 a bottle. The price being prohibitive I was reluctant to even try them out for fear I might have to break down and put a little mortgage to acquire one of them. On the other hand he is also launching three more moderately priced yet quality superior feminine scents for the upcoming season (October to be precise). They are based around one fragrance family each and they are named Scandal (a rich white floral), Enslaved(an oriental) and Unspoken (a chypre).

Roja’s theory of why smell is so important to us is interesting though and worth recounting. He maintains that the part of the brain that deals with odour is empty when we are born and we spend the first years of our lives (well into our puberty and beyond, I get to understand) forming preferences and distastes. This might be the reason why babies and small children often do not have a notion of “bad” smells and they venture into skatole-filled adventures that would make us shudder. It might also explain why there are definite preferences in certain aromas when we grow up that we can’t seem to shake off: they just move us on a deeper level, reminiscing of our childhood experiences and memories.

Roja elaborates that this is what is called an “odour profile”, sounding very much like a special FBI agent intent on capturing a serial killer, and in a way, you might want to think that smell is a serial killer, the way it strikes again and again and again with shocking results every single time. This odour profile constitutes what we find appealing and what not and also pinpoints which fragrance families tend to attract us more, giving a glimpse into our personalities in the process. This also coincides with what Mandy Aftel has to say when creating a bespoke fragrance for a client, by the way. She maintains that you can judge somewhat the tendencies of a personality according to the basenotes they choose for their tailor-made fragrance: shy or conventional types go for vanilla; hell-cats go for hay or blond tobacco and so on.
It’s an interesting thought, to be sure.

To revert to the subject at hand though, Roja continues by elaborating on how to choose an appropriate scent for oneself, using the odour profile. First there is some testing to determine which fragrance family is most appealing in general. For general purposes this is three-fold, encompassing floral, chypre and oriental. It is essential to clarify at this point that this is not meant to exclude one from the other or indeed disregard the nuances of cross-pollination that very often happen across families. It is simply a matter of simplifying a basic tendency that might produce more recommendations that would be most suitable. It doesn’t mean that a person can’t very well enjoy certain fragrances from all those families above.
Indeed after establishing a preference, one then goes through a process of elimination and specification that involves smelling separate notes. This is done through the use of scented candles, Diptyque it was from what I recall, and they let you smell the glasses they came in and share your impressions, as those particular candles are single-note based. My own preference for Oak, Oeillet, Jasmine and Pomander resulted in recommendations of Bellodgia, Mitsouko, Bal a Versailles and Coup de Fouet. Oh, dear, I already knew that…, I inwardly think.
Still, the process is fascinating, especially as there is no divulging of what you are smelling till after you have proffered an opinion. Which maintains the quintessential factors of a good test: objectivity and no influence by advertising or packaging.
I highly recommend the trip!

Pic "Favourably inclined" originally uploaded by cishikilauren /flickr

London Calling...part 1

The way of the pilgrim is long and arduous like that in a Chaucer tale, the sound of the Clash, echoing memories flowing in furrows inside my mind. London was calling. And with the low brow of a pilgrim I followed the call.

The UK has been in the whirlwind of unforeseeable events: what with the floods, the temperamental climate that exceeded all previous recollections of caprice I had, the bovine disease resurgence... And yet, the Albion is still there, still making me reminiscence of youth days spent in alternative laziness and studious frenzy.
Not to mention the shopping opportunities. Of which you are about to share a slice.

The inside of Les Senteurs (020 7730 2322, Les scenteurs link) is no stranger to its posh Belgravia residence in the centre of London, as row upon row of glass bottles in various sizes and colours shine like jewels under a magician’s hand or the rose panes of an old cathedral lit under a northern sky .
A kid in a candystore, Alice in Wonderland and let’s see how deep the rabbit hole gets. Men with suave manners and heavy- set rings are there to help you along in choosing the mystical passage to your inner core, the fragrant touch that will put the z to your pizzazz, the (French pronounced) h to your panache.

There lay some rare Caron treasures to try: Narcisse Noir, which has proven to be so temperamental like a shrewd that never quite became tame despite the undoubted charm she possesses that makes me try again and again and again; or N’aimez que moi(=love only me), the sine qua non of old-fashioned femininity, even in eau de parfum concentration which is no small feat.

I want brightness, light, exhilaration in liquid form. To these demands Neroli sauvage (=wild neroli) by Creed and Virgin Island Water are presented. Although the former is intended for the stronger (or is it?) sex I find that its zestful combination of bergamot, petitgrain, hesperides, neroli and verbena on a base of sandalwood and ambergris give a metallic tonality that is both clean, slightly floral and subtly sensual. Lovers would love to partake of a shared ritual. I am torn. I like this.
Virgin Island Water on the other hand is much more a beach scent in a city with no beaches, unlike my own. A beach scent with jasmine laced with white bergamot and a pinch of coconut for the tropical feel that makes it somehow more mainstream than it would like to be for its own good.

And then comes Tubereuse Indiana which is curiously a revelation: smooth and intense, very floral, yet truly different than most tuberoses I have tried. Created in 1980, it is non indicative of the decade of excess, certainly not of said flower’s intense profile and it does not scream its lovers over the rooftops in hysterical fashion in the manner of –say- Fracas. The curious juxtaposition of rose with a little unidentified fruit enhances the smoothness without adding powderiness and the typical musk and ambergris background of most Creed fragrances lies there like the remnants of long forgotten sins. A slight whiff of amber rounds it off warmly and invitingly. Maybe the climate in London is very much agreeable to it…

Whatever you do, if in London, Les Scenteurs is a must. Not just the Cartier perfume, but truly: so much more.


Next installement with more perfume discoveries to follow shortly...

Pic of Creed display courtesy of their official site

Incense week: 7.Pyrocaustic deep incense for Easter's Eve

 Editor's preface: If you haven't the faintest idea why a series of posts on incense scents mentions religious stuff and cultural associations, please refer to the first post of this Incense Week series to understand my concept. 


Here you can find post 2, post 3, post 4, post 5 and post 6 before final 7th post below.

Holy Saturday is the day between Jesus’ death and His resurrection, so the day is full of watchful expectation, mourning slowly transformed into joy. The day embodies in the fullest possible sense a joyful-sadness. On Great and Holy Saturday morning, the Orthodox Church commemorates Christ’s decent into Hades and the releasing of the souls of all who were held captive by death. An explosion takes place, the Hymns tell us that "Hades lets out a groan", as the doors to Hades (the otherworld of greek mythology) are blown open and the "locks and chains" used to imprison the souls are tossed aside and rendered useless as Jesus raises the dead and resurrects them all.

The hymnographer of the Church has penetrated this profound mystery through the following poetic dialogue that he has devised between Jesus and His Mother:

“Weep not for me, O Mother, beholding in the sepulcher the Son whom thou hast conceived without seed in thy womb. For I shall rise and shall be glorified, and as God I shall exalt in everlasting glory those who magnify thee with faith and love.”
"O Son without beginning, in ways surpassing nature was I blessed at Thy strange birth, for I was spared all travail. But now beholding Thee, my God, a lifeless corpse, I am pierced by the sword of bitter sorrow. But arise, that I may be magnified."
"By mine own will the earth covers me, O Mother, but the gatekeepers of hell tremble as they see me, clothed in the blood-stained garment of vengeance: for on the Cross as God have I struck down mine enemies, and I shall rise again and magnify thee."

Christ might also be seen as observing a Sabbath rest in the tomb.

What is even more interesting and justifies the choices of perfumes for this special day is the way Easter is celebrated in Greece in particular. Easter and the promise of resurrection were from ancient times tied to the pagan spring fests that celebrated the god Dionysus. However during the Ottoman occupation for all those long centuries, when religion was a binding force between communities, the meaning of resurrection got another nuance: that of an upcoming revolution against the foreign oppressor. The underground revolutionaries of the 18th century that were preparing the National Revolution that would start in 1821 were using the code words said on Easter’s Eve from one Christian to the other: “Christ is Risen!” (Christos anesti) to which the reply is till now “ Truly He is Risen!” (aleethos anesti). That promise of an up rise kept them going. And when finally they did easter was celebrated with gunsshots and fireworks and crackers and lots of noise, just like the tradition remains today almost 2 centuries after that to still remind us of the joy over the double resurrection: that of Christ and of Greece.


So on Easter’s Eve, there is one of the most characteristic celebrations of the nation: the midnight service marks the beginning of celebration as hundreds of crackers and fireworks burst in the cool night air for the people watching gathered outside the church, waiting to hear the priest utter the magical phrase: “Christ has risen!” and the bells starting to toll happily and loudly alongside the crackers. At that moment everyone kisses each other and wishes them Happy Easter with a smile; they light their long white candles and lanterns with the holy light which is brought out from the church. Hundreds of people in the middle of the night, cradling those tiny flames, the flames they are supposed to bring back home, to illuminate it with holy light, the lux that is so revered and so in the core of greek life, as it also recalls the Olympic flame which was lit with a mirror in ancient Olympia in honour of the life giving god Apollo.
A mystical happy procession of people walking back, ready to sit at the table with family and friends and click their red eggs saying those old code words of the revolution and eating the traditional dish “mayiritsa”, a very yummy soup made of lamb innards/guts (liver, spleen and lung) seasoned with dill, fresh shallots and onion in a juice of lemon and eggs; the official end of Lent.
You can get a glimpse and a recipe here.

On Corfu island in particular there is this popular tradition that is a sight for all foreigners visiting:
The most famous tradition is taking place all over the Island, in the Holy Saturday at 11 a.m. when the first bell of the First Resurrection is heard. At that time local people throw pots out of their windows, smashing them onto the streets below. Those special made ceramic pots, called "botides" can be more than 1 meter tall and they are filled with water to make a louder crash. The noisy custom lasts for 3-5 minutes and is watched by thousands of people, mostly tourists, as Corfu is the most popular destination in Greece for Easter holidays.
There are different theories about the origin and the explanation of this custom. The first explanation for the custom has a religious meaning, as a representation of the Evangelic books that refers to the resurrection of Jesus Christ with the words: "Resurrect o Lord and crush them as ceramic utensils". The second explanation gives to the custom a Venetian origin, as Venetians ruled the Island in 15th and 16th century : it is a variation of an old Venetian custom of new years eve, where they used to through old stuff from the window, so that the new year will bring then new ones. And the third one gives it a pagan provenance, as Easter time is the time when nature starts its new year and re-awakens after winter.(from www.panoramas.dk)
On the island of Spetses, there is a re-enactement of the victorious burning of the turkish fleet by greek revolutionaries, a spectacle of great interest.


For such a special night I have chosen incense perfumes that bear a relation with the night, with bonfires, with fireworks, with the joy of celebration and the awe instilled by the sense of remembrance.

Essence of John Galliano by Diptyque: Exactly the pyrocaustic smell of bonfires and fireworks, burned wood and light processions of people on the night’s breeze. Created by Olivia Giacobetti with the collaboration of John Galliano himself (who would have thought it of him?) and a great success in my opinion. Although technically a room spray, accompanied in the line’s catalogue by a matching candle, I have used this as a personal fragrance on the back of my hands with no ill results. At least I am still alive to tell the tale….
Deep, dark, smoky embers still illuminated from an inner spark, a little musty and with lots of backbone, it reminds me of the celebrations of midnight. The invocation of church is there, incense taking a turn for the bittersweet, lots of woody ambience, like standing with a candle close to freshly waxed wooden pegs (don’t tentatively burn them to see how they smell though if you’re to be thought of as a good Christian!). Dried bitter orange leaves like the ones scattered on the church floor for the congregation to pick up and get back home to put tucked at the backside of Byzantine icons with austere and spiritual faces. Completely unisex and individual for brave souls who want to venture the extra mile and raise a few eyebrows in the process. A favourite!


Messe de Minuit by Etro: Although this is traditionally thought of as cold and detached, I have noticed that it blooms best in warmer weather in which it reveals a herbal and spicy character that is not present in colder climes.
It starts very damp and musty and even citrus , with a scent that reminds me of raw pleurotus mushrooms left in the fridge for a while It becomes quite spicy and deeper with myrrh (or is it amber?) and sweetens considerably. And it also becomes earthy and “dirty” The incense note is not very evident as such to me. At least it’s not like any incense I am used to which I have described in Avignon. It doesn’t have that rich and resiny, sweet but smoky quality that I usually associate incense with. It is as if the remnants of incense smoke have settled down and been dampened in a old paleochristianic temple. No holy smell, no passage of angels, no spiritual elevation. On the contrary, this is an abandoned abode, a lonely place deserted by man and God that has been festering demons and evil spirits , unhealthy and perverse, vampiric even like a character from an Anne Rice novel . I can definitely see the face of the Antichrist in the background….
Which begs the question why pick such an evil association for such a day…Well, but it is the day of entering Hades after all. And the name which means Midnight service in French is exactly when I wear it, which makes it all the more poignant and introspective full of devoutness despite its intentions. Supposedly loved by Sophia Loren and I can understand how an Italian lady would also like this for those occasions.

Parfum Sacre by Caron: The modern take on what Or et Noir was in the classic line-up of Caron, as discussed yesterday and a bit more festive than the former, hence my inclusion of it here today. The bracing top of evident pepper and lemony tones give way to spices such as mace and cardamom with their middle-eastern ambience, while discreet garlands of rose, jasmine and orange blossom make a swift appearance, then surrender to the plush embrace of dominant myrrh and frankincense with lashings of civet, rosewood, cedar and a little vanilla.
In short one of the few Carons that like me because I do not get the musty rose accord that becomes insufferable on my skin. The whole smells mystical, sophisticated and quite elegant with a touch of the festive, a slight powdery feel like that encountered in classic Guerlains or Chanel fragrances. Really vintage in feel, because who would have thought this came out in the 1990’s? Terrifically long lasting in eau de parfum as well and with a sillage that remains good-mannered but will get you elegantly noticed. Recommended.


Top pic courtesy of trekearth.com, bottom pic by greekcity.com.au

Incense week: 6.Solemn, mournful incense for Good Friday

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This day is marked by solemn observations in memory of Jesus' crucifixion. Christians believe that Jesus thus accomplished reconciliation between God and man. Accordingly the crucified image of Jesus or, even the cross itself, came to be regarded as the main symbol of faith for Christians.
Roman Catholics as well as Orthodoxs observe the day through fast and abstinence to commemorate the pains and sufferings Jesus underwent on the cross so it is a day of mourning. The communion of the Eucharist is suspended.

Good Friday first came to be observed as a separate occasion in early 4th century. Before this, an annual celebration was held as Christian Passover, or, Pascha (deriving from the Hebrew Pesach), to mark both Christ's death on Cross and the Resurrection.
Our Lord is crucified. In the iconography of the crucifixion there is a number of people that are often depicted together: three women together with the Theotokos (=mother of god) ~Saint Mary Magdalene, Mary the mother of James and Joses, and the mother of Zebedee's children (Matthew 27:56)
Saint John the Beloved Disciple is usually placed right of the cross. While Saint Longinus the Centurion, the Roman centurion mentioned in Saint Mark's Gospel account of the Crucifixion (Mark 15:39) can also be present. There is an inscription on the top bar of the Cross that reads I.N.B.I., the initials of the Greek words meaning "Jesus of Nazareth, King of the Jews." While at the foot of the Cross, we can see often a skull because Golgotha, the Mount of the Crucifixion, means 'the place of the skull." Tradition relates that the Cross of Christ stood directly above the grave of Adam.

In orthodox tradition evening service concerns the recounting of the 12 Gospel lessons. The first one, from the Gospel of John (13.21-18), relates the account of the Lord’s discourse with the disciples at the Last Supper. The next ten Gospel readings deal with accounts of the Lord’s sufferings as told by the apostles. The last one gives an account of the Lord’s burial and the sealing of the Tomb. The response after each gospel reading is a variation of the usual one: "Glory to Your forbearance, Lord, Glory to You."
On the morning of the day each church makes its own epitaph bed for the dead Jesus: a cradle of icons and fresh spring flowers that young women have gathered and put on it: in cities and towns these are roses, lilies and freesias. In country churches it is usually lilacs and violets. People come in the church during the morning to pay their respects and the atmosphere is heavy with the heady blooms, head spinning from the incense burning and the flowers exuding their last breaths on the death bed.
In cities the epitaph exits the church on an evening parade to be joined with other epitaph beds from other parishes on a common meeting point, where people gather holding dark yellow beeswax candles as the only source of light, awaiting. The procession comes holding the holy symbols first, the epitaph bed next full of flowers that are sprinkled on the congregation and the mayor’s band last playing solemn funeral marches as people sing the ancient lament “ Oh, my sweet spring”; supposedly the lament of the Virgin Mary for her son on the cross, one of the most beautiful of greek orthodox hymnography, recalling the death of nature and its subsequent resurgence upon spring's awakening.

"Oh my sweet spring, my most sweet child,
where did your beauty set?"
You can listen to it or clicking here. or directly here:



In Salonica the town’s band customarily plays Funeral March by Chopin before that.

It is also usual in country churches to go through an elaborate and mystical procession before reading the twelfth gospel lesson at the evening service. The experience is really hair raising and deeply moving, even if one is not religious. The procession of the holy symbols, the cross and the icons carried on long poles, followed by the epitaph bed, by young people dressed in black exits the church and the great gates are firmly closed. They remain outside until the reading of the twelfth gospel lesson, upon which they knock on the gate representing Jesus knocking on the gates of Death, three times. On each knock a blessing is heard from the priest inside who denies however entrance. Utter silence in the congregation, who is watching solemnly in the cold evening spring air. As the last uttering from the priest inside is heard, the head of the procession opens the gate entering saying in a high voice “Open for the king of life”.

It is also interesting to note one particular custom on the island of Santorini (and other islands on the Aegean): as the up most parts of the isles had fortified villages, “castra”,for fear of pirates pillaging through the land in medieval times, (just like in Pyrgos on said island), those have narrow pathways of winding roads that have only one exit and entrance. On the corners of the streets, up on the barricades, great lanterns and bonfires are lit while every other light is turned off so that the whole village seems to have sprung up from Polanski’s The Ninth Gate. The sight is bewitching and breathtaking…

For such a powerfully symbolic day I chose sad, mournful incense fragrances with a deep floral background to them to reminiscence of all those associations I have with the day.

Avignon by Comme des Garcons: What could be more appropriate, more solemn, more sad and elating at the same time than this completely realistic catholic/orthodox incense smell? Named after the French city in which there was a second Pope instituted after an inside dispute in the Catholic Church in the middle-ages, it evokes phantasms of such a dark time. Full of the aroma of pure frankincense it is redolent of childhood memories of smoke rising from the censers, priests dressed in all black, Byzantine churches hidden under the barricades of an old city-fort and the far away smell of flowers in the night air. Beautifully contemplating, deeply moving, heady in its thickness. It is rather difficult to wear as a personal scent, because of its pungency and potency, at least the ordinary way (spritz, spritz, woosh…) but it can be dabbed a little on hands to make one fit the mood of such a day or sprayed lightly in the room to bring a glimpse of High Mass with them. It represents the pic I chose like nothing else can.

Incensi by Lorenzo Villoresi: A rich and pungent incense scent that is very churchy in a delightful way, laced with sweet and dry notes throughout. Church pews and freshly waxed floors, golden chandeliers and low light reflections on the somber faces on the icons, this is an Italian incense to be sure and it shows. The opening is rather dry with a touch of bergamot and probably elemi, coming to the fore, while the unfolding upon drying down on the skin is full of drama and with a discernible touch of spice in the form of beloved cinnamon and ginger with powdery accents, Incensi floats in the night air like the spell of another world, luring us into a world of mysticism and apocryphal meanings. Although this one has no apparent floral notes, its character reminds me of church processions and the mournful music they’re accompanied with, hence I include it.
The gorgeous blue bottle it comes in is like the window pane of a cathedral, all shine and mystery. Very long lasting, so it is a good investment despite the high price.

Or et Noir by Caron: The predecessor of modern Parfum Sacrι, Or et Noir is a classic Caron that makes no compromises on the challenging accords of must and powder in its rendition of the rose. Opening on a strong note of geranium this is garlanded with intense oily rose, some lilac, spicy carnation and a whisper of incense to render the whole quite close to an epitaph procession, young girls raining tear soaked petals upon the bystanders who whisper blessings along the way.
The name might be a little far-fetched as it is neither gold (Or) nor dark (noir) really compared to other incense fragrances, however its contemplative nature and deep character are very pronounced.
Chanel #22 is also a floral with a hint of incense in the background, but where that one is a light and airy, cheerful, lovely composition, this one is sacred and deep with a much more mature character.
Available only in parfum concentration in the Caron urns (those Baccarat crystal samovars that contain the precious essences) at the boutiques, it is hard to find and maybe challenging to wear for most, however no Good Friday procession would be complete without it.



Pyrocaustic incense for bonfires for our next instalment.
Pic is from the Knights Templar castle that surrounds the medieval city in Rhodes, Greece.

Fragrance review: Avicenna by Annette Neuffer

Annette Neuffer is a multi-talented lady you have not come across associated with fragrance yet. But you sure will. Not only is she an accomplished jazz musician with a quintet after her own name, performing all around the world, she has also stepped into the perilous world of perfumery using all natural essences to render her wild imaginings palpable and tangible for us.
Her generosity in sending me her labour of love was astounding and I am honoured to have been at the receiving end. To tell you the truth, I begin all those samplings with no expectations at all (since I don’t want to be prejudiced one way or another), but usually they prove very pleasant and sometimes even gripping to my surprise.

Annette’s most accomplished foray into the art of composing perfume so far is Avicenna, a sumptuous oriental of a deep ambery golden colour like a monastic liqueur. A complex and dark mix of several expensive rose essences of various origin (Bulgarian, Turkish, Russian, Moroccan), jasmine, broom, pepper, honey, sandalwood, amber, vanilla and musks.
The name alone enticed me as soon as I heard about it: Avicenna or more accurately Abu Ali al-Husain ibn Abdallah ibn Sina (born in Isfahan, the legendary city in 980AD), was the famous researcher, scientist and philosopher of Islam who was responsible for cracking the secret of rose distillation in the 10th century. Islam is a culture stepped deep into the cult of the rose. For them rose is the essence of beauty, holiness and spirituality. It appears in many facets of everyday life and plays an important part in religious ceremonies. The thick plush petals that resemble velvet hold a fascination for the denizens of the anhydrous regions of the Middle East and its heavy narcotic feel lulls the mind into a reverie.
Annette Neuffer was inspired by these historical details and strove to create something with an ancient feel to it, something that would lend some small magical touch in our everyday preparation to face the perilous world out there, a fragrant talisman for our protection.

The spicy cascade Avicenna opens with takes you by the throat and forces you to pay attention as caustic pepper singes and swirls around floral essences, perhaps a tad too stringently. Ginger and cardamom are also apprarent, while cinnamon does not make a too noticeable appearence, certainly not what you're accustomed to from its ubiquitous use in pot-pourri. The garland of rose unfolds on the skin majestically, like a thousand petals crushed underfoot in a medieval palace in Tehran. Myriads of nuances of rose take on mellow hues lent by smooth saffron and the bracken and honey feel of broom as the progression of the maturing of the precious and quite potent essence is continuing. It is very apparent that those sensations have their feet firmly in the sensual world of the material world of Nature rather than the white-coat lab of an urban conglomerate technician. There is no sharp note or that high pitched aluminium and glass feel of modern perfumes that one can smell at a department store. It’s cobbled alleys and dirt instead.
The underlying mustiness has reminded me of the famous Caron accord that is so evident in most of the venerable firm’s offerings. Their Poivre, Parfum Sacre and Rose parfums all contribute elements that can be traced later on in Avicenna.
As I inhale deeply I am transported to Top Kapi, the Constantinople palace where draperies of heavy damask hide Byzantine secrets and languorous kohl-eyed sultanas take a break from their more carnal occupations to revel in the romanticized florancy of rose and the piercing sweetness of natural jasmine in the lazy hours of a never ending afternoon.
Aromatic resins such as erotic labdanum and mellow benzoin anchor the composition with restraint so that it never becomes too sweet, as one might fear judging by the notes; although they do lend tremendous fixation and staying power to it. The final phase recalls the deep and dull colour of large amber beads threaded together in a komboloi (playing beads), one ticking the other incessantly, as time elapses lazily until all aromas on skin very, very slowly exit with a sigh.

The official notes are as follows:

Head

Black Pepper, Cinnamon Bark, Cardamom, Ginger, Macis, Mandarin, Bergamot, Tunisian Neroli

Heart
Saffron Absolute, Tunisian Orange Blossom absolute, Turkish and Bulgarian Rose Otto and absolute, Moroccan Rose Absolute, Russian Rose Absolute, Jasminum Grandiflorum Egypt, Acacia Farnesiana, Indian Tuberose, Broom Absolute

Base
Beeswax Absolute Supιrieur, Oppoponax, Elemi, Labdanum, Benzoin, Vanilla Absolute, Mysore Sandalwood, Copaiva Balsam, Hibiscus Abelmoschus


Annette Neuffer might not be as experienced as some other established perfumers, but her passion and interest in the world of natural essences is at least engaging and worth exploring for yourself.
I highly recommend you visit her Perfume Page here, where you can get info, request samples and possibly order.
You can also contact her directly at: info@naturparfum.net



Pic is of Blue Mosque in Constantinople/Istanbul courtesy of pbase.com

What is Chic ?

The human brain needs small incentive to go on a day dreaming track when provoked. A casual question on a perfume forum made me think about what constitutes chic in perfume. The unanimous response reigning supreme was Chanel #19, a scent I personally love and consider very chic indeed. Other chypres also featured prominently. However the issue deserves pondering on and not just writing it off with a few predictable recommendations.
Antisthenes the famous Greek philosopher, has a saying attributed to him, by which I have abided all my life: roughly translated, the beginning of wisdom lies in exploring meanings. So what is chic? I have thought about that, first of all.

via tubearc.blogspot.com

People have different definitions: some consider chic equals “confidence, timelessness...fragrances that are effortlessly stylish”, others say that it “means fashionable, to be sure, but also stylish in a kind of lean 'n' mean, insolent, provocative way” and cites models of a certain designer house as examples.
Ayala, a perfumer herself had this to offer: “timelessly stylish (as opposed to the passing fashion-du-jour). There must be something about it just a little bit cool or aloof in a way - as if there is no real attachment to the scent (or the fashion item), and they are just used as a tool...”

Luca Turin addressed the issue in a humorous way in The Emperor of Scent:

“Chic is first when you don’t have to prove you have money, either because
you have lots, so it doesn’t matter or because you don’t have and it doesn’t
matter. Chic is not aspirational. Chic is the most impossible thing to define.
Luxury is a humorless thing, largely and when humor happens in luxury it happens
involuntarily. Chic is all about humor. Which means chic is about intelligence.
And there has to be oddness –most luxury is conformist and chic cannot be. Chic
must be polite and not incommode others, but within that it can be as weird as
it wants.”

By that same token, Madame Clouzot, sister to film director Henri-Georges Clouzot in talking about French perfumery she deemed only two houses as really great French perfumers. She then ascribed Guerlain to cocottes (=kept women), while Caron was for duchesses (proper, proper chic). What the French consider chic nowadays is “a sort of kept-woman vulgarity”, luxury that shows. So I do find myself simpatico with that opinion expressed above. 

Many times women’s glossy magazines, fashion editors and coffee table books devoted to style do spreads with images alluding to the following ladies: Jackie Kennedy-Onassis, Audrey Hepburn, Grace Kelly - and Katherine Hepburn if the editor is having a good day...More subversive personalities, like Diane Vreeland or D.Furstenberg, are considered exceptions that consolidate the rule. In that light, chic at some point deteriorated to certain "style-icons" of Western perception and scope.
A pearl necklace, a camel coat and black leather pumps look. You know what I mean. Timeless, classic, a little preppy. (I am having a difficult time imagining in those terms what would be chic in India, for instance, if one takes into consideration clothes’ tradition and climatic differences) But what was it that equated chic with that look? Is this chic? Not if a hundred women out there go out and copy it; because isn't chic supposed to be sophisticated? And what is so sophisticated and individual in following in the footsteps of someone else, someone as well known as the style icons just mentioned? I mean, everyone would expect it. Hmmmm...

In the interests of objectivity I searched the term online too.

The Free Dictionary had this to offer:

adj. chic•er, chic•est
1. Conforming to the current fashion; stylish:
chic clothes; a chic boutique.
2. Adopting or setting current fashions and
styles; sophisticated: chic, well-dressed young executives. See Synonyms at
fashionable.
noun
1. The quality or state of being stylish;
fashionableness.
2. Sophistication in dress and manner; elegance.

By that definition, chic has a stylish air, a contemporary element (not something obsolete) and yet possesses elegance aplenty.
Also there is this definition by Wikipedia: “means stylish or smart, as reflected in styles of fashion such as heroin chic or boho-chic”. This leaves much more leeway, though, for almost anything.

via goldgorgeous.blogspot.com

So what are the perfumes that personify all the elements of chic? What is elegant, contemporary, sophisticated, non aspirational, confident, insouciant, and humourous?
Maybe it can be better defined by what is not in that league.

Too much luxury has an effect of “blinding” the sensory receptors, registering as bordering on show-off. Cascades of costly ingredients, rich velvet feel, gold tinged nuances: all that points to the direction that the wearer wants to be perceived as wearing a rich perfume (why that would be desirable, enough to make it to a beauty magazine such as Allure with the corresponding views of Frédéric Malle -the head of “ Éditions de parfums”- in the article "How to smell discreetly rich", is perhaps the theme of another article). What could be included in this super-luxe category? Obviously the Clive Christian and Amouage perfumes, which are so costly they surely stand as the olfactory equivalent of a Hèrmes Birkin bag -in crocodile skin, no less; costs as much as a small car and has a waiting list of at least two years. I’d rather give my money to charity, thank you.

Unfortunately, although not as pretentious, there are other perfumes, lovely, gorgeous perfumes that bring to mind lush plush and starched banknotes: Joy, Shalimar, Boucheron femme and homme, 24 Faubourg. They don’t smell un-chic. But they do smell conformist, like someone who wants others to know he/she has good taste. Alas many oriental fragrances suffer from this affliction.

Too much sexuality is also anathema to chic, not because very sexual beings are not chic per se (they can be, as proven by some), but because advertising one’s sexuality with perfume might border on the desperate. So hairy-chested, virile, traditional male aftershaves that purport their attractant properties like Kouros pheromonic experiments and perfumes that have the dubious fame of resembling odorata sexualis (such as Musc Ravageur, Boudoir, Shocking, Obsession or Ambre Sultan to name but a few) bring to mind catcalls to carnality and cannot be seen as insouciant. Sorry…They do serve their other purposes admirably, though.
Too much experimentation on the other hand, that avant garde that is so prevalent among niche brands with unusual synthetic ingredients that mimic everyday objects of sometimes even an unpleasant nature, are also removed from the elegant part of the equation. Comme des garηons is a prime candidate, although I love their Incense series.
Obsolete creations that have withstood a myriad incarnations or bring on the reminiscence of another era can also be excluded. They do attach themselves to ageist jokes of a cruel nature and this is sadly to their detriment as well as to the joker’s. I am afraid Quelques Fleurs suffers from this fate, along with certain old lavenders, such as Yardley English Lavender. It’s not a fault of the perfume; it’s just that they seem far-away and not intended for a major revival.
And there is no need for me to elaborate on why fragrances that smell too much like food do not have associations with chic, now is there?

So what does that leave? I find iris scents and non invasive chypres chic. Some aldehydics can be too, if they don't conform too much. Even some select orientals could, if one wears Opium the way I do: very casually. Yes, Chanel #19 is very chic, exactly because it never shows off and is never more or less than a lady. Miss Dior is also playfully audacious and naughty under the effluvium of floral notes. Rive Gauche vintage is so coldly steely it can cut a swath in a room and make everyone wonder without ever becoming bothersome. Bois des iles is wonderfully composed to sit equally well on men and women, in formal or informal attire. Tauer’s L’air du desert worn by a discerning male could be very chic. Defiant. Mitsouko in all its veiled mystery can be chic, simply because it never elicits the instant recognition compliments and is sexual in a most intriguing, never obvious way. Guerlain Vetiver is always chic; dicreet but individual. Alpona or Jicky on a man could be all those things as well. I would like to put Madame Rochas in its older incarnation in this league, along with modern ones like Voleur de roses, Timbuktu, Fumerie Turque, Tubereuse Criminelle and Iris Poudre. Possibly there are others too.

Does perfume play such a major part in grafting chic-ness onto an individual? Is that even possible? I don’t know for certain. All I know is that chic needs humour. So maybe even the least expected perfume can be viewed as chic on a person who has the wit to make it his/her own.