How the Gods trick us into hubris ~Alpona by Caron: fragrance review

I distinctly recall the first time I tested Alpona: it was the holiday season of 2006 and I had come very late to the cult, considering my perfume habit dates back to the time I was collecting minis and mixing (nay, ruining) my mother's expensive perfumes as a child. Having tested myriads of fragrances by then and having almost exhausted the Caron subject studiously and laboriously as most of them were not available to my country, with only a few sitting pretty on my skin, my nose and my sensibilities (the rose accords have to be a certain way for me to be moved) I had almost no hope of liking Alpona.
How the Gods trick us into hubris...

I had read of it described as a bitter chypre and I imagined it as very harsh and wasted a la Cabochard reformulated, one of the major disappointments of my perfume life because of the precious memories it had held for me personally.
Leafing through hefty tomes of arcane perfume lore I had come across authors describing it as fruity perfume as well and it was at that moment that I became convinced that I wouldn't like it in a million years, given my antithesis to such proclivities. Yet , the desire to test it even to formally and terminally "diss" it was persistent. I was a snob in reverse on the hunt of the elusive: Alpona had been created as extrait de parfum and those were only available through the "urns", Baccarat crystal fountains of liquid gold to be had at the Boutique Caron in Paris and New York City.

It was in a friendly exchange with a lovely lady that I had been able to procure some, opening the little bottle with trepidation not unlike the one shown by the bishop annointing France's Charles VII Dauphin upon his crowning in Reims with Clovis' Sacred Ampoule holding the Holy Oil.

And then.....I put it on! And it took only seconds for me to not only like it , but to positively love it for its peculiarity, its dry and sweet mingle, its character, its depth. Its weird grapefruit-rind note and the rich oakmoss marriage. These two elements dominate the composition. Another devotee was at that very minute approaching the Altar of Alpona, shyly skirting the edges of the marble, gingerly grasping the golden handrail, laying bouquets of piety at the Goddess' feet. And it solaced my soul that she forgave and welcomed me into the Order like a deflowered Vestal Virgin who has entered the priesthood of a secret cult.

Caron launched Alpona in 1939, in tandem with the New York Exposition, inspired by the Garden of the Hesperides. Hercules according to the Greek mythology defied the nymphs Hesperides, guardians of the garden, and stole from the Greek gods the secret of immortality, the "golden apples". Alpona was the first acclaimed fragrance to combine flowers with lemon and grapefruit inaugaurating the “Hespéridé” family. These tart citrus fruits (known as "hesperideans") give the perfume its modernity. Sun-ripened fruits basking in an orchard in the last foothills of the Alps with considerable darkness and richness underneath thanks to the inclusion of oakmoss and the infamous Mousse de Saxe base was at the mind of its creator Ernest Daltroff.
Alpona is recommended according to Caron "for immoderate indulgence by every woman who wants to get the juice out of life".

My fallacy that it would turn for the sour were dispelled by the reality of it unfolding its fruit rind swirls on skin. Alpona is actually quite sweet in the drydown, rich and full-bodied.
It has personality. Backbone!
Alpona smells like a weird holiday in the mountains, but not the snowy Alps, there is no cool snow theme here, despite the name. It's as if you are squeezing grapefruits and oranges for the morning juice, drinking it in a lichen-overgrown attic on the slopes of an autumnal mountain lodge; gorging the sunrays coming through the open window, basking in their warmth, with a little plate of candied orange and bergamot rind by your side, leafing through old textbooks of your granny who was learning Russian as a hobby. Decked in light woolies and breathing in the moist air, the trampled upon tree branches and just dead leaves, sighing with pleasure and abandonment, savouring the spicy dryness, Alpona is like discovering long-forgotten trinkets and family heirlooms in a cedar chest tucked away in the attic.

According to the official Caron site:
Notes: Lemon, Grapefruit, Bergamot, Rose, Orange, Jasmine, Orchid, Thyme, Patchouli, Myrrh, Cedar, Sandalwood, Musk, Oakmoss

I will never again say I won't like something just because. That's a promise Alpona made me give. I will sorely miss it now that they discontinuing it...
You can still get it at NYC boutique located in the Phyto Universe day spa on Lexington Avenue at West 58th Street, so take your chance while supplies last.
HOT FROM THE PRESS:
Paris Caron boutique representative refutes the rumours on discontinuation. Please note that this is not definitive and it might mean that they will keep it only in Paris or the plans are for later on.

Painting by John William Waterhouse, Diogenes

Une Histoire de Chypre by Molinard and Aedes

If there is one fragrance family that has a very specific history and timeline to its emergence it is the chypre one. Perfume Shrine has explored the historical intricasies shrouding the chypre genre as well as its classifications and production, so readers who have been following us know what to expect by now. {for those who haven’t click the links}

Une histoire de Chypre by Aedes collaborating with Molinard is faithful to its name: it encompasses all the traditional elements that contribute to a classic, elegant, warm chypre. Those fragrances have the rare quality of provoking intense reactions to people who come into contact with them and account for an olfactory souvenir that is imbued in the essence of poignancy.

Molinard allowed delving into their Grasse formulae compedium and the Grassois perfumer Dominique Camilli came up with a 1920s recipe which in turn inspired a composition with genuine reverence to the classic genre. Une Histoire de Chypre was about to be born: a limited edition exclusively for Aedes de Venustas who commissioned it, the uber-fabulous boutique of niche aromawonders pioneered by Karl Bradl and Robert Gerstner.

According to the Aedes catalogue, Camilli was first introduced to Aedes through an article in the December 4, 2005 edition of Style Magazine (a supplement to The New York Times).
At the time Aedes wasn’t the established, well-known perfume afficionado Mekha yet, so the concept of such a boutique seemed like the wildest dream come true. Very soon the idea of collaboration came up over lunch in West Village and the concept of the new fragrance began to take its kismet-kissed shape. Camilli’s father, also a perfumer, was an acquaintance of Coty, the pioneer who helped popularize the modern Chypre in 1917 (although not the first one to introduce one!) bombasting the mysterious odours of the island of Cyprus into the consiousness of the world through his legendary creation.
Everything fell into place and the venture began under the spell of the best omens. According to Dominique Camilli: “We have kept the heritage/spirit of this fragrance using the finest raw materials and ingredients. A quality one does not encounter often in modern perfumery”.

As Une Histoire de Chypre unfolds its aromatic stanzas on the skin, the green hit of galbanum and neroli with whiffs of bergamot rind oil titilate the nostrils. The introduction is unmistakably chypre and proud of it ~enticing, sensual, warm and cool at the same time. A spicy mid-note like cinnamon or styrax emerges soon after, although not officially listed, which recalls the intriguing counterpart in both Mitsouko and Ma Griffe. Its precarious balance with citrus and feminine blossoms is completely successful as the usual bouquet garni of classic chypres peeks through the dimly lit timbre of earthy oakmoss, warm labdanum and sensual patchouli. The jasmine opulence allied with green tonalities and smooth amber is echoing another Molinard 1849 romantic creation and one of my spring and summer favourites: M de Molinard. The whole is enchantingly old-fashioned in the best possible sense and it will cut through a room full of fruity florals and Nutra-sweet-laden scents like a scimitar cutting through the fabric of memory.

Notes:
Top: bergamot, mandarin, neroli, jasmine and galbanum
Heart: jasmine, Bulgarian rose, osmanthus, and iris
Base: patchouli, oakmoss, musk, and amber

The classic Lalique bottle with its black bulb atomiser reminiscent of Old Hollywood style retails for $225 for a 100 ml/3.3oz Eau de Parfum. Exclusive to Aedes de Venustas, 9 Christopher Street, New York, NY 10014.


And for our readers who have no access to this rare exclusive gem, I have a sample to offer: please enter your name in the comments if you want to be eligible for the lucky draw!

Painting "Death of the Gravedigger" by Carlos Schwabe courtesy of art.com, bottle pic courtesy of aedes.com

Cosmic Harmonies

When Solange Azagury Patridge came out with her first perfume, Stoned, I was curious to sample it. It-jeweller to the London stars Elton John, David Furnish and Bella Freud and creative director for Boucheron, Solange had all the makings of a hip-celeb in her respective field and the news of her launching a fragrance seemed like a nice idea for someone who had obviously good taste and an eye for imaginative design in jewellery. Then I learned the name of the scent: Stoned. It recalled images of Amy Winehouse, not of glamour. Let's just say it wasn't very appealing, even though I belatedly found out it was simply named thus for a girl who likes stones. Heftily priced/prized ones, that is...
Later on I found out it actually had finely milled diamond-dust in it. And on the heels of that, the price. OK, by then I was ready to hate it! But surprisingly it was not a bad perfume, this smooth oriental, even if lots of the money asked went to the bottle and the diamond dust. Stoned took a year to break even, business speaking, which in light of the above hardly comes as a surprise, does it.

Now Cosmic came to the scene and it was rumoured to be a modern chypre. This got me in a mode of at leasting wanting to try. Both Solange scents were developed by Lynn Harris of Miller Harris, which to me ensured at least a standard of quality ingredients and concept.
The name Cosmic is taken from the Cosmic zodiac jewellery collection by Solange in which each piece is unique.
Of course again the bottle and the name suggest something that is otherwordly to what is actually hiding in the bottle: a likeable green velvety skin-scent. What I mean by a skin scent: not that the fragrance reminds of the smell of your-skin-but-better, that alloy of synthetic musks that is so favoured in very recent perfumery. No, I mean that it stays close to the skin and doesn't project like some extraterrestrial entity that has landed on you proclaiming its scheme to conquer the earth. It's too well-mannered for that.


According to Solange:

A shooting star falls to earth revealing its meteoric and potent charms. Following on from her parfum Stoned, Solange has thrown her imagination out to the furthest corners of the universe and created the exquisite Cosmic-- an intergalactic liquid jewel enclosed in a star-faceted silver orb. The bottle's shimmering surface glints and winks from every angle, literally a Cosmic addition to every girl’s dressing table.

Cosmic is a modern Chypre that weaves together a milky-way of magical essences, combining Solange’s own sweet candy accord with an airy top note of bergamot, sparkling aldehydes and galbanum. The heart of the fragrance beats with classic blossoming rose, jasmine absolute and rare iris. Base notes of earthy vetiver, opoponax from Peru, myrrh from Somalia, and sweetly addictive vanilla add layers of sensual aroma. To further embellish these earth-based substances, Meteorites have been specially ground down to create a fine Stardust for the fragrance. The heady combination of essence, cosmos and ether simply takes you out of this world...

Cosmic by Solange goes into its own little twists and turns keeping a smooth harmony in which it's hard to discern particular ingredients, they're weaved in tightly. Initially there is the herbal hit of galbanum with a minty overlay of aldehydic sparkle, seguing on to a smooth lightly sweeted heart of soft heaps of flowers. One would be hard-pressed to pinpoint their little heads. The sweetness reminds me of ionones (gamma-methylionone, alpha-ionone)and mint leaves on a cool champagne sorbet, melting into a serene moment to yourself. You might be contemplating the stars or wondering how your lucky stars might help you actually buy this indulgence.
In a way Cosmic has traces of both Satyr by Armando Martinez and Alice in Wonderland by Konstantin Mihov, two indie perfumers which have been featured in these pages; and perhaps also a shade of Maboussin, another fragrance issued by jewellers.
In Cosmic the smoothness and sweetness are rounding out the initial jolt of galbanum and are beautifully accompagnied by the persistence of a little resin and earthy notes such as vetiver and patchouli like a basso continuo you find yourself noticing more and more.
I call this success, don't you?


Cosmic notes
Bergamot, Galbanum, Rose, Jasmine Absolute, Iris Absolute, Patchouli, Vetiver, Labdanum, Opoponax, Myrrh, Vanilla

Cosmic comes in a silvery metallic star-embossed bottle of Eau de Parfum 50ml/1.7oz and retails at 200 euros or 285$.
Cosmic is available at First in Fragrance and Luckyscent.




Following posts will feature lots of surprises and articles inspired by my trips. Stay tuned!

Pic of moons sent to me by mail unaacredited. Pic of bottles: Stoned on the left, Cosmic on the right, from official Solange site.

Montana Parfum de Peau: fragrance review

On an ordinary morning on an ordinary weekday in Paris this past June, a rumour started to ripple through the mirrored design studios, the gilded, glossy magazine offices and the cramped workrooms of the French fashion industry. "Have you heard?" whispered voices ominous with impending ill news."The police found a body on Rue de Bellechasse this morning." "Have you heard?" they whispered, "about the death of Wallis Montana?"

~ Marion Hurne, Node Magazine Australia August/September 1996

Parfum de Peau, also known as Montana de Montana, as was its original name, is usually described as sexy, assertive, dirty, and sultry. It is all those things! But it is also tinged with tragedy as it was inspired by style guru Wallis Francken and the strange androgyny of her public persona. Together with Claude, they formed a weird couple and this is a weird perfume that can be easily imagined to be worn by people who love making a statement.
Almost unsufferably potent and single-minded in its assault, Parfum de Peau was given to me as a gift when I was a teenager. I wonder if the gifter was trying to tell me something. Because this zest has stuck. Did I always project a certain drama? Was that drama merely a plea for attention like every dutiful teenager does? All I remember is behind its bursting, blinding fruitiness peppered with spice it taught me what a furry little animal smells like when it’s hot and it lies dead on the street and one has the strange craving to go pick it up and lull it to sleep. There is the bitter and sweet odour of Thanatos which weaves such a strange net to lure us into a false sense of security.

Claude Montana, “king of the shoulder pads” and butch leather-man wearer is half-Spanish, half-German and began his career as a jewelry maker that got him recognition through Vogue coverage; that in turn helped him settle for a job at cutting and grading leathers at McDouglas, a Parisian firm in 1970. It would take some shows at Angelina’s Tea Room until he would start his own company in 1979 designing Amazonian, emasculating clothes for women. Those caused some ruckus with their inferred image of being reminiscent of Nazi uniforms. The Constructivism risus sardonicus that runs through his collections animates gyrating proportions with the addition of a peplum over narrow, wasp-waisted skirts. He greatly admired Mme Gres and Balenciaga which comes as no surprise. That kind of trapeze designs with the emphasis on shoulders and the power with which a silhouette moves in them was both reflected and bouncing back in his personal life.

His 1989 admission "I'm like a battlefield inside, a mass of contradictions" merely confirms the rumours of erratic behaviour and troubled inner life. He had married his muse, the German-American angular model Wallis Franken, 18 years after meeting her, when they were both 43. She, already a mother and a grandmother, always striking, always rail thin, knew all about the strange affairs of Claude. That warm July day, three years before the tragedy, she “gave up and yielded and went to Susa on foot to the monarch Artaxerxes”: she went on to be a wife ~"Oh, you know, cooking in the kitchen, fixing the dinner, lighting the candles..."
She was decked in an organza pant suit and white cowboy boots on that day. She was a vision.

What happened still remains a mystery: Wallis fell out of the balcony. Pushed or not? Out of her own accord or due to drug intoxication? The grim underbelly of fashion life in ne plus ultra Paris was just a hair away from being revealed. But it never did. It remained an agreement of silence: hushed, whispered in corridors but never out in the open.
What remains is one of her last public performances as an extra in the Madonna clip Justify my Love shot by Jean-Baptiste Mondino at Hôtel Ritz in Paris. I can smell the atmosphere in those rooms ~they reek of Parfum de Peau; they reek of contradiction and need; they reek of the desire to transcend death.

{Warning: uncensored version; unsuitable for office enviroment!}

(uploaded by nicubuleasa)

Parfum de Peau was originally composed in 1986 by Jean Guichard (Fifi, Deci Dela, Obsession, Loulou, Eau d’Eden) and was later reformulated with synthetic castoreum by the great Edouard Flechier (Poison, Tendre Poison, Une Rose, Lys Méditerranée, C’est la Vie). Not to be confused with the second feminine perfume of the house, Parfum d’Elle (1989) in a similar, shorter bottle.
The original Montana de Montana came in a breathtaking, award-winning helix-shaped bottle designed by Serge Mansau, inspired by the swirling fall of a winged sycamore seed as seen by a strobe light. It was encased in a cobalt blue box in both Eau de Toilette and Eau de Parfum versions.
The older versions had a packaging with the name Montana writ big, while the newer versions have a silhouette torse recalling the bottle on the outside of the box in orange, with the name Montana in smaller script underneath it.

Notes: green note, pepper, cassis, plum, peach, cardamom, ginger, rose, carnation, sandalwood, jasmine, tuberose, yalng-ylang, narcissus, patchouli, castoreum, civet, vetiver, olibanum, musk, amber.


Collage of Wallis Francken originally uploaded by Superchic1966 at Msn groups. Pic of ad from parfum de pub.

Lament for a Fragrance in Sepia ~Cabochard by Gres: fragrance review

“Headstrong” or “stubborn” is not the first thing that comes to mind when I contemplate on my mother’s personality. Yet it was the formidable, petulant perfume thus named, Cabochard, that had won her heart and ~along with Dioressence~ became her insignia. The Grecian-inspired fluted designs of Madame Grès which were cut directly on the body would have suited the Dorian drama of her beauty. Her dreamy flair for romanticism however betrayed appearences and made a fascinating juxtaposition with her bombshell fragrances. Thus the merest whiff out of her now almost empty bottle never fails to bring back poignant memories of my childhood with a Proustian rush. Talking about it dews my eyes like writing the obituary on an era: trying to recapture those sepia memories like a faded vignette is doomed to fail due to the fragrance being irrecovably changed.

Cabochard comes from the old French word “caboche”, meaning "headstrong" or "self-willed", according to the Petit Robert dictionary. It was Alix Grès, neé Germaine Emilie Krebs and formally trained as a sculptress, who opted for it, to accompany the independent nature of her couture. Alix Barton was her first business pseydonum. But she later took her husband’s ~Serge Czerefkov, a Russian painter ~ first name and with a partial anagram settled on Grès, opening la maison Grès in 1942, amidst the German occupation of Paris. Soon she was dressing everyone, from the Dutchess of Windsor to Marlen Dietrich and Greta Garbo.

The story of creating Cabochard
The credit into making Cabochard a success is attributed to Guy Leyssène, who met Madame Grès at a dinner part two years prior to the perfume’s launch, per Michael Edwards. It was Guy's suggestion that she should issue one because it was a profitable enterprise which all the other fashion designers of the times had embarked on. It took only a month for Grès to ask him to help her create her own perfume. {interestingly, according to history of fashion.com the first perfume was called Muse in 1946}. However, nothing is as simple as it might look. "Cabochard is a miracle of complexity […] the secret life of a Parisian woman with no age and no illusions" wrote Luca Turin about its scent in 1994 and its story is just as complex.

The perfume that was in works was a composition by legendary perfumer Guy Robert, called Chouda. Robert was young and under the guidance of mentor Andrée Castanié, then editor of L'Officiel de la Mode et de la Couture, had been introduced to Mme Grès in 1956. But it took a trip to India, the land of exoticism, which prompted Alix Grès to further her plans on the house’s fragrance. The visit had begun innocuously, invited by the Ford Foundation to assess Indian brocades. It was there that Alix Grès discovered water hyacinth: a flower she became enraptured with. It has a sweet odour, rich like tuberose, yet with a fresher top and slightly warmer. The experimentation of Guy Robert yeilded rich fruits: Alix loved it, however Chouda was almost exclusively used by her (only five litres of Chouda were ever made) as it was too flowery for the tastes of the 50s which veered towards classic chypres. She launched another fragrance under the pressure of public input: the mod of what was to become Cabochard, made by Bernand Chant of IFF, was received much more favourably and thus the plan to push Chouda was ultimately abandoned, although the two were issued almost simultaneously in 1959. It comes as a surprise that there were focus groups even back then, but it is a fact that puts things into perspective: public reception is (and will always be) the moniker of how things work in a sector that, although hinges on art, is also largely a business.


The story of the bottle for Cabochard, as well as Chouda, is also extraordinary in that it was the already made and discarded stock of Guighard, a small glass manufacturer later acquired by Pochet. They had made the bottles for another company who never bought them and in order to save costs, Grès bought all 500 of them for both perfumes. The difference was the little bow that adorned the pharmaceutical stopper: grey for Cabochard, green for Chouda. The Cabochard success (it sold 250 bottles in the first week of its launch alone!) secured numerous backorders to the glass manufacturer. In a way, the commercial success owed to the enthusiasm with which it was promoted by a commission salesman formerly working for Piguet (whose biggest seller at the time was Bandit). According to Leyssène the demand was so pressing the sales were doubled each year for the following ten years!

Scent Considerations: A Leathery Chypre Marvel
Cabochard utilised the same aromachemical with Bandit: isobutyl quinoline, a harsh green and pungent, dry leather aroma, yet fanning expensive, precious, sweet flowers over it. Inspired by the archetype it muted the smokiness until the drydown. Cabochard offers a capricious bitter orange opening instead, with the illusion of wading through wild bracken catching a distant whiff of clove and hairspray. The crackling leather, powdery afterfeel of face cosmetics was sustained for hours on skin, emitting grace and confidence in a similar manner to Chanel’s Cuir de Russie, although with rather more sweetness and less birch. To Gres it recalled a walk along a deserted Indian beach:

“the crispness of the early morning air, the warmth of sandalwood, a hint of far-off flowers, and the dry caress of sea breezes”.

The parfum sitting on the dresser of my mother ever since I can remember was so warm and rich than mere drops were enough to scent her hair and garments, retaining the essence of who she was into my heart of hearts. The eau de parfum in older versions is also exceptionally good, while the eau de toilette has a lighter but sharper quality.

The difference between the vintage and the recent re-editions can be traced back to 1984 when Beecham Cosmetics acquired British American Cosmetics, who had bought the Grès brand in the interim after Alix closed the couture house. To celebrate Cabochard's twenty-fifth anniversary, they changed the grey velvet bow into frosted glass, encased the bottle in a black instead of a black-and-white one and brightened the citrus top while also restraining the animalic accord. The 40th anniversary of Cabochard was celebrated in 1999 with a Bacarrat crystal flacon, designed by Serge Mansau and what seems yet another re-formulation which finally put the tombstone on one of the best in my opinion perfumes of the 20th century.

Official notes for Madame Gres Cabochard:
Top: aldehydes, bergamot, mandarin, galbanum, spice
Heart: jasmine, rosa damscena, geranium, ylang-ylang, iris
Base: patchouli, leather, vetiver, castoreum, oakmoss, tobacco, musk, labdanum, sandalwood

Pic of bottle from official Gres site

Outlaws and Brigands: Bandit by Piguet (fragrance review)

It was 1944, when WWII was at its most crucial stages with the battle of Monte Cassino, the fall of Rome to the Allies, the maiden flight of the Bristol Brigand and subsequently D-day that Robert Piguet had sent his models down the runway brandishing knives, toy revolvers and masks like highwaymen, like outlaws. And it was this occasion that prompted Germaine Cellier to grab the models’ knickers after they had walked the catwalk, reputedly studying their scent in an effort to “capture the best of their femininity” for the couturier’s first foray into fragrance. Whether she did and how one defines femininity in the first place is food for thought.

Cellier herself was outwardly conforming to all the perceived ideas of it: beautiful, slim, blond and tall, she exuded an air of elegance. Yet her reputation was tinged with shades of unconventionality and homosexuality and her creations were aiming to reflect different perceptions of Yin and Yang. Fracas was made for the femmes, Bandit was for the dykes.

In those times of closeted sexuality, these were hints that never left the inner sanctum and remained under wraps. Today it is a matter of playful reversal of roles, when women are freer with their sexual identity and image and are conscious of how they can juggle both sides. In saying that however I realize that both of those sides are dark and dangerous and not to be trifled with: both Fracas and Bandit pack a punch and are smirking with the knowledge of their own sinister powers. To Fracas’s torrid tuberose that makes you either fall madly in love with or shun forever, Bandit juxtaposes daring, bitter green leather which, according to a male admirer smelling it, exudes aloofness, rebellious intellectuality and absolutely requires an expanse of skin to show for its sensuality to bloom.


Classified as a leather chypré, Bandit manages to pose a glorious riddle that has a resonance even to today’s sensibilities, staying resolutely, brilliantly modern and quite young in spirit, contrary to many chypres and leather scents. There is simply nothing like it on the market, although many have drawn inspiration from its complex leather and greens accord.

“Beautiful but brutal” is how the perfumer Guy Robert described it and he couldn’t be more accurate about a scent that opens on the intense slap of galbanum greeted by hazy blossoms on a bed of raw hide, rendered by 1% of isobutyl quinoline!
A woman has seized her boyfriend’s bomber jacket, which has rolled into mud and grass and bitter Artemisia and still holds the remnants of that contraband cigarette he smoked (or some weed, according to some!) when he was waiting for the call for action. Her own female scent has permeated the lining with warmth, her floral-laced soap and powder, her brunette feral muskiness and the mossy feel of wet earth underneath. There is an androgynous energy travelling throughout the scent with a hint of S/M which addresses our need to reassess how we view women and their role. Bandit’s copious sillage and intense bitterness will surely make eyebrows rise and mother-in-laws shake with trepidation upon meeting you; unless they’re elegant and mischievous themselves, in which case they will reply with a wink.


It is of interest to note that men could carry off Bandit admirably and in fact lots of older gentlemen apparently do, according to French sales assistants working for the brand! Also interesting is that there an eau de toilette of Bandit is/was aimed at men, sold at Fragancenet.com: the main difference being it is very rough, with a distinct lineage to Aramis and a golden cap instead of the usual black one for the ladies.

Bandit had stayed in the shadows for long, before the fashion hysteria for Fracas in the 1990s brought deserved attention to the forgotten house of Piguet again. Indeed it was upon re-seizure of the Piguet house by Fashion Fragrances and Cosmetics that it got re-issued by Givaudan’s nose Delphine Lebeau.

The matter of its various concentrations and shades of difference betweeen different batches within the same concentration merrited its own research.
Therefore, for clarity we state the following: The original vintage composition came in parfum, eau de toilette and eau de cologne. The eau de toilette is the sharper of the lot, while the eau de parfum is greener. Parfum is sublime and smooth, but I am perfectly happy with my eau de parfum. This was a later, indeterminate addition, resulting in two versions of Bandit eau de parfum circulating in the market: one is the certified "new" version (which I have) which is close to the original, vintage formula that bears a certification on the box; and the other is the "reformulated" version that got issued before 1996 under Andrian Arpel. That intermediary version manufactured by Adrian Arpel is the one that was sold until 1996/1997 and older stock on etailers might be it. The bottles do not present visual differences in their opaque black with yellow edge around the label, apart from the box.

The certification on the box reads:

"Certification
This is the original formula for Bandit
created by this company with Robert Piguet
for the introduction of the perfume in 1944
Errol G.W.Stafford
President
Givaudan perfume corporation"

To help matters more, the “original” version also states “made in France”, while the other does not.
The eau de toilette that circulated under Andrian Arpel (Alfin inc. being his previous company name) bears this label:

“Parfums ROBERT PIGUET
Made in France
For Alfin.inc
New York NY
10019”

The official Piguet site does not mention eau de toilette at all. However they do mention a body lotion available.
Bandit is available online at Barneys, Bergdorf Goodman, Nordstrom, First in Fragrance and various online stores (just keep an eye for all the different batches!)

Notes for Robert Piguet Bandit: galbanum, artemisia, neroli, orange, ylang ylang, jasmine, rose, tuberose, carnation, leather, vetiver, oakmoss, musk, patchouli.

And a lucky draw for our readers: if you want to be elligible for a sample of the Eau de Parfum, to see what all the fuss is about, please state so in the comments!

EDIT TO ADD: As of late 2012, a new reformulation of Bandit is under way by perfumer Aurelien Guichard to comply with latest IFRA allergens restrictions in fragranced products. Please note that the review refers to previous to that reformulation batches. We will update with a comparison as soon as a sample of the reformulated lands on our lap.

Pic of Bandit ad by okadi. Painting of Sappho by Mengin courtesy of perso.orange.fr. Pic of Bandit Eau de toilette from Fragrancenet.com

The Dior Chypres series ~Miss Dior: fragrance review

“I will tell you of a perfume which my mistress has from the graces and the gods of love; when you smell it, you will ask of the deities to make of you only a nose”. It is in those words that the Roman writer Catullus speaks of the seductive guiles of feminine fragrance. Miss Dior is such a seductive scent, compelling you to ask the deities for favors they ~alas!~ cannot grant you.
Almost everything has been said about this classic of classics that saw the light of day in 1947, so I won’t bore you with the same old, same old about the New Look and how it came about. Instead I will tentatively try to give you the feel I get from this scent and the associations I get in my mind.

Technically a floral leathery chypre, Miss Dior is a soigné miss only in exterior appearances, all prim and proper, because once inside the beast takes over and you smell the animal in its peak of copulating frenzy. There is some element of appocrine in the fragrance and I am not talking about sweat or urine. Although there is the clean overlay of aldehydic waxiness and soft flowers you catch a whiff of more feral, impolite essences. Under the clean exterior there is the carnal cat-call and you feel as if it is perhaps too scrubbed clean to be without ulterior motive. I suspect this is due to civet or civetone, because there is also a pronounced warmth in the background, despite the cooler opening.

The effect is more evident in extrait de parfum especially, which bears a marked difference to the eau de toilette. The latter is more powdery with the slightly bitter, cottony feel of coumarin and has an exuberant, bright green start due to the inclusion of galbanum and aromatic clary sage. Those two ingredients, along with styralyl acetate (naturally found in gardenia buds), is what makes me think of the original Ma Griffe by Carven to which it professes kinship in its initial stages. The galbanum touch might also recall the verdancy of Balmain’s Vent Vert (which came out the same year), although the latter is stridently green in the vintage edition which might seem jarring compared to Miss Dior. The latter also has a soft peachiness to it, characteristic of the Roudnitska touch presumely, which must be derived from some aldehydic compound or other molecular combination, different though from the C14 of Mitsouko. It is a peachiness that I have encountered in hair products, hence my assumption that it is chemically constructed.
The base is smothered in troubling patchouli, moss and earthy vetiver. However this is not the pared down patchouli of modern fragrances that is so ubiquitous in everything churned out at a frantic pace in the last couple of years. There is shady vibrancy in this that defies the clean aspect of the modern patchouli interpretations and a roundness in which notes do not compete with each other for stage space.

As I first inhale whiffs of Miss Dior sprayed into the air, I am transported into a mirage that entails majestic mountains surrounding meadows of lavender and narcissi in bloom, where ultra prim damsels wade through. Their long flaxen hair down, their eyes bright with anticipation in their precious moments of freedom as they turn past oak trees into a little slice of heaven; a pond filled with crystalline waters. And there, out of the blue emerges the catalyst: the object of fantasy and secret longing of who knows what exactly. Acres of moist skin, droplets shinning in the morning sun and wet hair that smells like it hadn’t been washed in a while; that fatty, waxy smell of familiarity, yet for them uncharted territory still. The pungency of horse and saddle distantly echoed in the background.

Here it is:


(Levis commercial uploaded by ladynea)
{The song is "Inside" by one-hit wonder Stiltskin (from 1994)}.

Christian Dior confided that

"...I created this perfume to dress every woman with a trail of desire, and to see emerging from her small bottle all my dresses...”.

Based on a formula by Jean Carles, it was composed by Paul Vacher and later re-arranged in 1992 by Edmond Roudnitska in extrait de parfum. It hoped to open new vistas of optimism after the privations of the war and in a way it did.

Unfortunately, as is so often the case with older creations, there has been some re-orchestration of Miss Dior’s symphony since. Very recent batches do not smell as oily and precise as they did, due to a mollifying of the top notes that deducted the sharp peppery greeness of galbanum giving way to a citrus leaf aroma, not unlike the one in O de Lancome. Also an attenuation of the chypre accord with more vetiver makes the new version less assertive and murky than it used to, rendering it less erotic in effect. At least Evernia Prunastri (oakmoss) and Evernia Furfurea (tree moss) are still listed, although to what ratio it is unknown (hypothesized to a lesser one).
If you happen upon Eau de Cologne bottles, those are surely vintage and they are a pretty good acquisition in lieu of extrait de parfum, if you can’t afford or find it.

It is interesting to note that by today’s standards Miss Dior smells “old-fashioned”, even though it was conceived as a young fragrance aimed at debutantes. Less polite souls would baptize it “old lady”, a blanket term so lacking in qualitative nuance that renders it completely useless. Indeed I was able to witness its effect personally. I happened to spritz a vintage (circa 1985) emerging from a ladies’ restroom, washing in front of two teenager girls who were watching me through the mirror while glossing their puckered lips. Aren’t those times tittilating for budding womanhood? Of course I volunteered to scent them, ever eager to introduce young girls into proper perfumes. One of them staggered back in what seemed like abject horror (judging by the look in her eye) professing the opinion it was “too heavy for her”, the other was more cooperative and allowed me two spritzes on her woolen scarf. Although at first she too seemed a little overwhelmed, after a minute, when alcohol had evaporated, she took the scarf close to her nose and nuzzled deeply. Yeah, there was a look of mischief in her eye as she thanked me. And there you have it: Miss Dior has this double effect; it will make some think it’s heavy and old, it will entrance others on second sniff. I am sure that girl went off to venture into romantic escapades with ackward beaux that could not appreciate the raw power of its labdanum and moss base; beaux whose fathers will be much more receptive to her nubile charms, American-Beauty-style.

Miss Dior is the scent of sexual awakening. A trully naughty perfume under the prim and proper exterior of houndstooth. But hounds do discover the best prey, don’t they?

Official notes: galbanum, bergamot, clary sage, gardenia, jasmine, narcissus, neroli, rose, patchouli, oakmoss, labdanum, sandalwood

NOTA BENE: The above review pertains to the 1947 fragrance formula and the reformulations happening till the early 2000s. As of 2011, the classic Miss Dior is renamed Miss Dior EDT Originale and Miss Dior Cherie from 2005 has become simply... Miss Dior. Please read this article with pics on how to spot which Miss Dior fragrance version you're buying.

For our French-speaking readers there is a nice clip about the 1947 introduction of the New Look with a confessionary voiceover by Fanny Ardant.
Click here:

(uploaded by vodeotv)

We have more surprises on the Shrine for you later on...

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The Dior chypre series ~Eau Fraiche: fragrance review

One might think that unisex or “shared” fragrances, like DNA remnants on a TV show that focuses on forensics, can be traced back to CK One and the 1990s. That one would be much mistaken. Almost every house of perfumery and many small artisanal local parfumeries in Mediterranean countries, notably Italy and France, brandished their own recipe of eau de cologne for cooling down on hot days and refreshing after a bath in the not so distant past. For parfums Christian Dior that emblematic scent could have been Eau Fraîche.

Well before the time women usurped Eau Sauvage for their own use thus catapulting the last masculine bastion, Eau Fraîche could have been shared between both sexes as early as 1953 reversing the situation: a woman’s perfume that can be worn by males. The advertisments from 1957 showed two hands, one male the other female, stretching to clasp the bottle suggesting its vague intent to appeal to both.

Eau Fraîche drew upon a rich tradition that had been semi-forgotten during the first half of the 20th century, when marketing decided that separate smells should appeal to different genders. On the contrary, it harkens back to the times of the first Eaux de Cologne, like 4711 or less well known exempla Hungary Water and Florida Water. These interpretations of the basic concept of a refreshing alcoholic splash utilised hesperidic top notes evaporating at a zingy pace, along with refreshing herbs and light woods or musk for a little tenacity. Purpotedly Hungary Water served the Queen of Hungary, from which the name derives, really well: she was said to have found a young husband in her very advanced age! I don’t know if it can be attributed to the Water’s miraculous qualities, although everyone with a sceptic bone in their bodies would think not; still it was widely believed that the essenses used in those refreshing toners were beneficial to body and spirit. And aromatherpeutically speaking, so they are.

However 1953 was perhaps too early for unisex smells and women were priviliged to add a fresher chypre to their collections, almost two decades before Diorella became the definitive fresh smell for Dior fans. In its rounded flask bottle by Guerry Colas, Eau Fraîche is another in the series to adorn the shelf besides Miss Dior, Diorama and Diorissimo. Notice the almost rattan feel of the sides, suggesting a summery vacation at the Côte d'Azur.

Eau Fraîche begins on a citrus and mandarin burst of juicy freshness with an astrigent appeal. Mandarin lends a little sweetness to the proceedings, due to its less shrill odour profile compared to lemon. Yet they cannot be mistaken for the citrusy fruity fragrances of today, as murky oakmoss surfaces almost simulstaneously giving a chypré feel. Its creator, Edmond Roudnitska, eminent chypre creator knew a thing or two about using it as the perfect backdrop to notes of clarity and translucence.
This oakmoss base is like the background buzz and scratches on an old vinyl taking rounds on an old set: you know digital is so much better, yet you feel a strange nostalgia for something that either irritated you when you were actually using it or which you have never known, simply because you are a child of the 1990s. Oakmoss can lend a subversive mantle to anything with its musty yet sensual feel and if you have ever smelled the ingredient in its raw state you know what I am talking about. In this regard, Eau Fraîche features it rather heavily and it is immediately apparent; a trait that would drive away many of the people who are averse to chypres.

I could perhaps discern its heritage to Caron’s Eaux series. Some of them have a similarly chypré accord which sets them apart from their cousins that pose on shelfs in department stores, all dolled up in their fruity colourful rinds.
To a lesser degree one can also discern a comparable feel in Bulgari Eau parfumée au Thé Vert, a scent that was also aimed at both sexes, well ahead of CK One. A scent that has a smoked wood autumnal feel to it despite the limpid shade of the frosted bottle that would inspire one to use it in a heatwave.

Eau Fraîche also includes rosewood, heavy in suave linalool, and a subtle vanillic touch that rounds it out beautifully. A fragrance for bien-être dans sa peau, as the French use to say: feel good in your skin. A fragrance suggesting laid-back style and insouciance like the 1971 advertisment depicted above shows in such few strokes.
Men as well as women would be strongly adviced not to miss this little-known refined gem.


The Dior Chypres series is not over yet: stay tuned!

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The Dior Chypres series ~Diorella: fragrance review

Everyone has an aunt that used to bathe in cold water regardless of it being winter or summer, slip on her bathing suit first thing in the morning and go for an invogorating swim on the first sign of warm weather in mid-spring. She wore long masculine white shirts for summer errands and shopping for gigantic prawns for lunch; often without anything else beneath them but her already salty swimsuit and with matching white plimsolls on her slim feet. She left the salt from the sea on her skin all day long till the evening bath to tone it, make it firmer and washed her hair with rain water ~when she could get it. Those tips were divulged to you in passing: laughter and joyous munching on summery peaches, juice dribbling down her jaw while she was solving crosswords at the veranda; long legs sprawled over another chair, her metallic-frame reading glasses on her long nose. And “what is the word that is both a machine and a mystery? Has 6 letters”. You scratched your little head for it, for it was your favourite aunt. She had never married and people wondered if she had any boyfriends. Did she? You never got to know until it was too late. Her cold bathing didn’t help along with her illness, of which she got alerted rather too late. All the joyfull memorabilia of those summers long ago came into your mind with a frenzying velocity to overwhelm you. And what tears you wept… She could have been wearing Diorella all those summers ago. It wasn’t important; she never showed any signs of self-indulgence and perfume might seem like one.

But her scent could be Diorella. It was in 1972 when this chypre came out. Composed from a rather short formula by Edmond Roudnitska, it came as a female counterpart to his extremely successful Eau Sauvage: the masculine cologne that proved to be the most shared scent between the sexes in the 20th century. The heads at Dior soon saw that women who grabbed this magnificent, vivacious specimen from their boyfriends’ bathrooms would want a comparable fragrance to claim their own. And so Diorella was born exactly 6 years later, smelling as fresh as tomorrow. Roudnitska said about Diorella that it was his proudest creation and that it was the perfect compliment to the environment around his house and garden; he interestingly also said that it derived from Roudnitska's previous 1953 Eau Fraîche, not Eau Sauvage. In Diorella he summarised all the good refined things about spartan style he had come to master in his box of tricks. Rather, he had dispensed with the tricks by now and focused on pure, unadulterated essence.

Despite the joyful character of Diorella’s herbal opening (echoing the aromatic top of basil and bergamot of Eau Sauvage) and the zing of snapped leaves from a lemon tree that might remind you of O de Lancome (1969), Diorella is more serious than that. I also smell a touch of galbanum, a strong green note that was mainly explored in Germaine Cellier’s Vent Vert for Balmain (much more evident in the vintage version than the reformulated one by Calice Becker) which gives another layer of verdancy. And there is a touch of mandarin it seems (or is it?) with a synthetic melon accord to further consolidate the idea that was fist explored in Le Parfum de Thèrese; an iconoclastic idea at the time, giving an aqueous feel.

There is again the familiar theme of peach that Roudnitska explored in both Rochas Femme and Diorella, but here it is done in such a ligh manner as to not blunt the axe into fruit confits. Its subtle warmth enrobs a fresh jasmine note (probably the same dihydrojasmonate/ hedione isolated from the absolute that he used in Eau Sauvage). There is a magical translucence to it like sipping cold tangy juice from a crystal glass on a hot day. A very subtle sweetness reminds one of honeysuckle vines climbing on a metal fence, as if smelled from a distance. Later on there is a little powdery mossy ambience that slowly suggests a more autumnal mood, a secret that contrasts with the dazzling hesperides and fruits of the beginning. To every dawn there is twilight and those notes provide the backdrop to it. Maybe that was what prompted Susan Irvine to proclaim of it:

“Mysterious, it’s a Mona Lisa among scents”.

It might be interesting to compare notes with Eau Sauvage and Eau Fraiche de Dior:
Notes for Diorella:
Lemon, basil, bergamot, melon, green note
Peach, honeysuckle, jasmine, rose, cyclamen
Oakmoss, vetiver, patchouli, musk

Notes for Eau Sauvage:
Lemon, basil, bergamot, petitgrain, cumin
Hedione, lavender, patchouli, carnation, coriander, orris, sandalwood
Oakmoss, vetiver, amber

Notes for Eau Fraîche de Dior (vintage):

Bergamot, lemon, mandarin, orange, green notes

Rosewood

Oakmoss, vanilla


And “what is the word that is both a machine and a mystery? Has 6 letters”. You scratched your little head for it, for it was your favourite aunt. She had never married and people wondered if she had any boyfriends. Did she? The word, dear aunt, was enigma. You.


Diorella is available at most department stores carrying Dior perfumes. It only comes in eau de toilette and there are no major differences between different vintages to my knowledge.


Next post will tackle a fun side of Dior!

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The Dior Chypres series ~Diorling: fragrance review

If Diorama is synonymous to a classical goddess, then Diorling is fit for a dark Rennaisance angel. This supremely elegant "leather chypre" that saw the light of the day in 1963 is one of the rare beauties that have such smooth contours, so velvety a sheen as to render the leather note a tender caress on a very expensive handbag of an austere design resting atop a soft feminine lap while waiting for a rendez-vous a deux; a handsome beau bringing flowers hidden behind his back.

Diorling was created by Paul Vacher, the nose that is officially credited with the creation of Miss Dior, that classic of classics for the house of Christian Dior, in a French attempt at "English refinement". 
In the case of Miss Dior it has been inferred that its formula was based on a concept by Jean Carles (the man behind Tabu and Ma Griffe) and the extrait de parfum was further assisted by the great Edmond Roudnitska. In Diorling there is no data to support a hypothesis that the perfume was aided by either man’s expertise. It is therefore interesting to examine what sources Vacher drew his inspiration from.

One could trace the lineage of Diorling in such formidable leathery scents such as Cuir de Russie (1924), Bandit (1944), Jolie Madame (1953), or Cabochard (1959). Diorling offers the relatively harsh but restrained opening of bitch tar coupled with bergamot and what seems like bitter orange without the bracing, almost bitter aromatic top of Jolie Madame, the acid green of the quinolines in Bandit or the bracken & whip of Cabochard ~ which make for challenging compositions that seem demanding like an ancient Greek cthonian deity or a creation of Paula Rego.

On the contrary, Diorling weaves its sexy, dry, leathery note smoothly throughout the duration of the fragrance on the skin revealing flowers of an incomparable beauty and luminosity: the clean note of hydroxicitronellal, which echoes the headiness of muguet/lily of the valley, and light, airy jasmine with no real indolic dirtiness. Although rose is part of the bouquet garni of Diorling, I perceive no evident trace of its lushful personality as it is hidden behind the backdrop of dryness and classical symmetry; two traits which put it firmly in my heart of hearts. As the scent slowly dries down a stream of patchouli and earthy vetiver come to the fore elegantly and quietly to position the whole into the realm of chypre. This chypre however has neither the intensely floral animal naughtiness of Miss Dior nor the opulent fruitiness and floralcy of Diorama {click for review} which draw contrasts of chiaroscuro. Diorling puts its spell through the equilibrium of a delicate pendulum that never veers from its well-ordained course.

Nota bene: The above review pertains to the vintage edition of Diorling, which is also the best. There is a newer bottle in 125ml eau de toilette with houndstooth label available from Paris Dior boutique which is lighter and with less intense animalic components (circulating in the late 2000s).
Then there is a 2012 "modernised" version of Diorling joining the perfume line Les Creations de Mr.Dior on 30th January 2012, comprising notes of Calabrian bergamot, Egyptian jasmine, patchouli and leather. This one bears the characteristic design of the newer Dior bottles with the silver "mock thread" around the neck of the bottle in sizes of 100ml.


Boutique Dior is located at 28-30 Avenue Montaigne, 75008 Paris. Fax number to order: 00 33 1 40 73 57 95. Also available at time of writing at Le Bon Marché (in Paris) and at Harrods (at Roja Dove's Haute Parfumerie) in London.

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The Dior Chypres series ~Diorama: fragrance review

"Cabochard, Dioressence, Diorama were offerings to goddesses, not presents to women". This is how Luca Turin addressed the masterpiece by Edmond Roudnitska that came in 1949 like a luminous cognac diamond to adorn the crown of Christian Dior parfums. He couldn't have said it better.
Diorama, unlike its cohorts in divinity who have lapsed from Heaven, was recently re-issued (along with Diorling) by Roja Dove to results that do not insult its precious, beautiful visage of a classical Venus de Milo.

Luca Turin has been reported to pan the jus circulating at the Avenue Montaigne shop in comparison to the vintage -which one would assume he got procured by the miraculous and forbidable Mme Pillaud in Menton:

"It was real Diorama, a one-ounce tester, the first postwar Dior perfume, not the crap you you buy today for two hundred dollars on avenue Montaigne that bears no resemblance to the original fragrance." (Chandler Burr, "Emperor of Scent" 2003, p.19)

I have alas only dried up dregs of my glamorous, Paris-shopping grandmother's mini vial to compare to the reissued version which I sampled recently {click to learn how}, but if the reissue is any miniscule indication of the greatness of the original, then by God, I would have been blinded with awe.

According to perfumer Jean Claude Ellena, talking about Diorama :

"No perfume has ever had more complex form and formula, more feminine contours, more sensual, more carnal. It seduces us with its spicy notes: pepper, clove, cinnamon, nutmeg, cumin, the scent of skin. It is disturbing with its animalic notes: castoreum, civet, musk. All the accords and themes to follow are contained in this perfume: the wood and the violet, the plum and the peach, the jasmine and the spices"

(author's translation).

Diorama is a chypre of classical structure poised between Femme and Mitsouko and rounding out the best features of both, while it could also be argued that it contains the sperms of calm and restrained fruity exploration that will be expressed in Parfum de Thèrese and Diorella. Unfortunately for me, Parfum de Thèrese soon acquires a metallic aqueous aspect that I find disagreeable, so perhaps I might not be the best judge of such a comparison. The idea however had been suggested to me by good friend Denyse Beaulieu and I think it's worth exploring if you get the chance to have both at hand.

The bergamot top note of Diorama allied to spicy notes of nutmeg, cinnamon and cardamom recall the spice caravan that leads the camels of Eau d'Hermès, another Roudnitska creation, but also the cinnamon bite of Mitsouko that contributes to its spicy woodiness. Cumin was explored as a sweaty note addition to the re-issue of Femme (under Olivier Cresp's baguette) and contibutes a lot to its carnality, which I personally find very pleasurable. In Diorama, cumin is apparently held in check and other elements of more animalic nature are sensed in the depths of the scent, very slowly.

The plum element of Femme , a base of a methyl ionone compound, adorns the composition with a richness that greets you upon first smell along with peach aldehydes, all golden and ripe, softening the whole into a velvety sheen. It is so smooth, so buttery, you can't help stopping and inhaling deeply, admiring your own humble self even if you are feeling like hell and feel even worse.
Diorama has the rare power to obliterate anything you might project visually and transport the one who smells it into a better place, a better time. Its clear, incadescent heart of jasmine which I feel emerge after the first ten minutes projects warmly in a radius that encompasses everyone that will lean a little bit closer. It is a jasmine that is rich, ardent and indeed beautiful. Despite what notes are given, as I lean on my wrists pondering on the beauty of such a smell I perceive a clear lily of the valley note, an aroma that is usually replicated by hydroxicitronellal, as lily of the valley/muguet is a flower whose smell is elusive. (It is well known that Roudnitska grew the heady flowers to study them in order to replicate their divine smell in Diorissimo). That note gives an unexpected freshness, like the one that will surface in Diorella along with hesperidic and peachy touches later on and here marries well with jasmine and another white floral of a greener, piquant aspect.
You can't really distinguinsh when the mossy aspects of vetiver, moss and patchouli enter the scene like dramatic actors in a Shakesperean Midsummer Night's Dream, but when they do along with erotic undertones of labdanum and the leathery odour of animalic castoreum you know they will stay on the skin for hours mesmerising you.

All the themes evolve and revolve one into the other, like "a dream within a dream". You could say that Diorama was the seminal work of Roudnitska that contains his profound ideas on perfume aesthetics to be later dissected and minutely examined in his prolific career.

The lasting power is phenomenal for an eau de toilette concentration (at least on my skin) and in this regard it is excellent value for money.

Diorama, the way I perceive it, smells opulent and quite old-fashioned: the way real women smelled all those years ago, the way my glamorous grandmother smelled, when the hysteria of artificial freshness hadn't surged and people actually dressed for dinner even if by themselves at home. I know, it sounds such a weird concept to our modern ears...However if you have ever got into a satin little slipdress in cerulean blue and got the escargots and Cristalle from the fridge to celebrate by yourself, instead of munching Oreos wearing flannel bear-printed pyjamas, you know what I mean. In short, Diorama is a retrospective. But so much worth it...

Available in the classic 125 ml bottle of eau de toilette.
Boutique Dior is located at 28-30 Avenue Montaigne, 75008 Paris.
Fax number to order: 00 33 1 40 73 57 95
Also available at Le Bon Marché (in Paris) and at Harrods (at Roja Dove's Haute Parfumerie) in London.

Pic from okadi. Painting Pygmalion and Galatea by Jean-Léon Gérôme courtesy of allposters.com. Translations of JCE quote from the french by helg

The Dior Chypres series ~1.the hidden force: Edmond Roudnitska

Edmond Roudnitska

Perfume Shrine embarked on a mission: to disect and discuss one of the bastions of chypre: la maison Dior in its former glory, when under the baguette of Edmond Roudnitska and Paul Vacher it produced classics that remain up there in the pantheon for all of us to worship.

Edmond Roudnitska is probably the one name you simply need to drop if you want to appear as if you have at least a passing knowledge of scent. Of course name dropping is completely ridiculous, especially when used to prove that someone knows anything about anything, but the practice does not diminish the value of this Ukranian émigré who started as an assistant to Ernest Beaux; the Russian perfumer to the czars who made the legend of Chanel parfums almost single-handedly. Did his apprenticeship serve him well? More than that.

Roudnitska became much more than an artist of high calibre in the fragrant galaxy or a point of reference. He also pondered theoretically on the subject of perfume through his prolific writing and his polemic to establish perfume creation as an art form, especially in his book “Le parfum” in the “Que sais-je?” series (now out of print), “L’ésthetique en question” and “L’intimité du parfum”. But the dialectic he inaugurated has survived in his dictum (from a speech given on 20 November 1952 in Paris):

“For it to be considered Art, smell ceases to be a sense to be satisfied to rather become a medium. Thus perfumes will be spiritual compositions and the public will be able to initiate themselves into olfactive forms”.

For him it is not the sense of smell or the materials that are important, but rather the spirit which, playing with forms, will coax the latter with the aid of the former. This point of view had been forgotten for decades when perfumes came out with the eye more on the commercial than the artistic, only to be revived when certain niche companies came into the fore dynamically. Roudnitska bases his axiom in the comparison to other art forms (as mapped out by Etienne Souriau).

“A beautiful perfume is the one which gives us a shock: a sensory one followed by a psychological one. A beautiful perfume is one with happy proportions and an original form”.

One criterion is the pre-thought-out process that precedes composition, contrasting popular myths about “happy accidents” (too much aldehydes in Chanel No.5, vanillin in Jicky producing the basic accord for Shalimar) and certainly the rumour that Jean Carles composed by instinct rather than plan. Therefore artistic perfume composition should focus in evoking odours in an abstract manner. In this he found an eminable successor in Jean Claude Ellena who composes with pen and paper at hand and not concocting alloys at some secret lab. Emphasis on the interaction of materials with one another is also highly regarded.
Additionally, perfume composition should be unique, much like a musical piece, and protected against “plagiarism”. To this he was adamant. He would be sadly disillusioned to find out that nowadays there are hundreds of fragrances that are composed with gas chromatograph and mass spectometer at the side of the unlucky recipient of a perfume brief from a big company: that is, to replicate a best-selling fragrance adding a minimal twist. This is where the education of the public comes into the fore, as well as the possibility of expression both personal and national or era-related through perfume.

Perhaps one of Roudnitska’s best known triumphs -alongside Diorissimo, the iconic lily of the valley fragrance- is the classic Rochas chypre Femme {click here for review}. In this he explored the concept of the fruity chypre with touches of aldehyde and powder rendering a fragrance at once opulent, alluring and elegant. Himself he renounced the moniker of “chypre” for it. In an article appearing in Perfumer and Flavorist magazine in December 1987, he describes Femme as

“floral, aldehydic and very fruity, with the double characteristic of woodiness and sweetness”.

This was due to the antithesis to Coty’s prototype but probably also due to a desire to differentiate from previous fruity exempla, such as Mitsouko. Roudnitska continued to produce scents for Rochas: Mouselline (formely Chiffon), Mouche, Moustache and La Rose.

But it was his meeting with Serge Heftler-Louiche, director of parfums Christian Dior that cemented his style and directed him into a lucrative business and artistic collaboration that lasted for decades and it is interesting to juxtapose the chypres he produced for them with Femme. Christian Dior opened shop in 1945 under the insistence of the businessman Marcel Boussac. A new perspective to fashion was brought with his New Look, which took women back to the era of crinolines, in a way, counter-revolutionising what Cadolle and Chanel had accomplished through the use of pliable materials that helped women become the men in their lives in all areas besides the boudoir. Dior envisioned women in more traditional roles, wasp-waisted like some Minoan goddess and with meters of skirt lengths that challenged the rationed days of the war:

"We were emerging from a period of war, uniforms, female soldiers built like boxers. I was drawing female flowers with soft shoulders, full busts, waists as slim as liana and corolla skirts".

Carmel Snow, editor-in-chief of Harper’s Bazaar remarked:

“It's quite a revolution, dear Christian. Your dresses have such a new look”.

The year was 1947 and Dior came out with his first scent, Miss Dior, as homage to his sister. Credited to Paul Vacher, based on a formula suggested by Jean Carles and reorchastrated by Roudnitska in 1992 in extrait de parfum, it is nothing short of a classic and the introduction of a big trend in the coming years: the floral chypre; but with an animalic twist down the line, of which more later on.
But it was in 1949 that Diorama, a fruity chypre perfume, was created by Roudnitska. With it he found a balance between complexity and clear vision that captures several olfactory nuances: spicy, floral, fruity, animalic and all enrobed in a sensual feminine dress. By this time he began simplifying his palette, making stricter formulae, with a mathematical precision that abandonded notes that served merely for the pleasantry of the senses, like heavy sugary ones, to focus on more spiritual endeavours using purer, strictly “olfactory” notes that aimed at the cerebral rather than the carnal; aiming at elevating scent from the instinct of the reptile cortex into the fully developed Homo sapiens membranes. Eau d’Hermès followed in 1951, all spices galore, and Eau Fraîche for Dior in 1953, comissioned and modeled around Coty’s Cordon Vert eau de cologne (in its turn by Chypre) and by Roudnitska’s own words the only true chypre version in the market (this was in 1993).
In 1963 Paul Vacher produced another chypre in the Dior stable: this time a leathery fragrance, Diorling. With it all elements fall into place into a supreme elegance that is as buttery smooth as the fur of an alpaca coat.

Roudnitska’s most successful –commercially certainly! - scent entered the scene in 1966: Eau Sauvage. A chyprish citrus for men with the daring floral note of jasmine through the use of hedione. In this Roudnitska culminated his aesthetic odyssey of the sparseness of composition with an artistic merit that defies criticism. Diorella (1972), with its foot in the fruity tradition of Diorama, was the feminine chypre counterpart to Eau Sauvage, enigmatically relying on very few materials to give a very fresh, very young fragrance and which Roudnitska himself considered one of the best in his career. Dior Dior, a woody floral perfume, issued in 1976, never took off commercially and was destined to be discontinued till now.

Luckily Diorama and Diorling, two of the pre-eminent chypres in the Dior constellation have been re-issued and will be reviewed shortly along with the other Dior chypres.

Related reading on PerfumeShrine: 
The Dior series, fragrance reviews of classic perfumes




Pic of E.Roudnitska courtesy of artetparfum, Dior ad from parfumsdepub. Translations of quotes from the French by Elena Vosnaki

Paloma Picasso Mon Parfum: fragrance review

It's hard for me to speak of Paloma Picasso perfume and not implicate the obliviously innocent in this. Because it happens to be the signature choice of someone I knew, someone who is most probably unawares of this blog, its writer and musings. I doubt I had even registered much in her mind back then when her scent made an impression on me. A really young novice I was at the Conservatoire, accompanying her vocal classes on the piano.

Anna was a creature of fire and spice, long tresses of chestnut trailing her back in thick curls, a straight, impressive nose under austere dark brows, but with a gregarious, roaring laughter that dared to flirt with anyone within a 10-mile radius. She dressed in full bohemia, just about 10 years after its heyday or about 20 before its resurgence, any which way you choose to see it. She wore dangling earrings made of ethnic beads and smoked heavy Gitanes. And her scent seemed to preceed her; which was not all that au contraire to the mood of the era, if only because there were numerous others, men and women alike, who followed a fragrance cloud rather than the other way around. That was the 80s, that was when Paloma Picasso launched Mon Parfum, a powerful chypre fragrance meant to embody her unique style.
Anna did not wear white shirts with black skirts, though, nor painted her lips in a crimson bloodfest that recalls the picadors in the tercio de varas. No, Anna was beyond such clichés...

The Ritual Fire Dance by Spanish composer Manuel De Falla conjures up comparable images in my mind. (the cello soloist is Julian Lloyd Webber and the clip was uploaded by gindobray)

The pungent green and dry chypré opening was like a bruise, aching long after the blow has been hit. And then roaring spices came cascading down in quick succession: clove and coriander, bold and proud, unashamedly pronouncing their presence before the hazy drop of flowers smelled at a distance was perceived, with a little hedione brightness. Rose was musty, musky, playing hide-and-seek with an effluvium of patchouli leaves with a little powder, much like that in Aromatics Elixir.
The gaunlet however was only thrown after the base notes develop, like the hides of dead animals, rich castoreum with more than a touch of the masculine, at a tannery on a warm day. The funk of a big animal in its ammoniac glory used to cure the hides is there and it dares you to bypass without closing your nostrils for a while, doubting if this is supposed to smell good or bad. A conundrum!

It came in a glorious soap formula that was made for bathing meant to make you smell dirtier than what you started with and didn't you love this, back then.
The eau de parfum was Anna's preferred concentration, encased in a black glass bottle from what I recall (current versions with lightned up base -due to restrictions in animalic ingredients used- are in plastic). And upon resniffing for the purposes of this review I couldn't but wonder how it was possible to tolerate, -nay, love madly- such a potent mix! It would take a very sparing application in this modern day and age to make it smell acceptable. But it is worth trying to find the perfect balance. The parfum/extrait which comes in a white splash bottle is perhaps the way to go as it is meant to be dabbed and not sprayed.
It's interesting to note that some modern day scents such as Sisley's chypre Soir de Lune were even inspired by Paloma's approach.

Paloma Piccaso, the daughter of Pablo, codenamed this scent Daphne 19, which puzzling as it is it is reminiscent of my own experience. Perhaps she knew someone named thus, while at her stint at Tiffany's as jewel designer, echoes of which are evident on the elaborate bottle, shaped after a pair of earrings made of petrified palm wood she designed for the brand? Or did she merely refer to the odorous plant? Dubious...
Mon Parfum was composed by Francis Bocris in 1984 with Paloma's guidance and includes the following notes:

Top: bergamot, lemon, hyacinth, angelica, ylang ylang, clove
Middle: Rose de Mai,jasmine, lily of the valley, orris
Base: Oakmoss, castoreum,vetiver, patchouli, amber, civet, musk, cedarwood, tobacco, sandalwood

.

The touch of a masterful persona that purposly discards social rules to do their own is evident in Mon Parfum by Paloma Picasso. Anna wore it amazingly well. Not all do.

Pics from parfumsdepub