Chanel No.5 Eau Première 2015 edition: fragrance review

Chanel often comes to mind when we talk about festive occasion drenched in champagne, if only because of the reputation of aldehydes being fizzy and sparkling materials (the aldehyde sequence in No.5 is mostly citrusy and waxy, to be honest, though). 

 

Chanel's perfumer, Olivier Polge, taking the baton from his father Jacques, had stated clearly that the legendary perfume of Chanel No 5 Eau de Toilette has no age, yet the newer edition Chanel Eau Première No.5 from 2008 would "effortlessly outshine the original without denying its relevance." The choice of words was not random, it seems. Effortless seems to comprise the very essence (no pun intended) of the bright insouciance of the newer interpretation of the venerable classic.

However great Eau Première from 2008 was, nevertheless, the advancement of tastes meant that it wasn't really appreciated by mass consumers, but only by us, perfumephiles. Logical enough, it followed the well-known formula rather closely. Therefore in 2015, the company revamped it in No.5 Eau Première 2015, in the process liquefying it according to the IFRA regulations, which made an impact around 2012. 

One perfume lover once said, "No5 Eau Première is a gateway perfume to the aldehydic genre. This is a beautiful mix of soft, bright, fizzy, and powdery. Eau Première is Diet No5, about 60% the flavor but still highly pleasing." 

I find myself flirting with a bottle for a long time now because it brings on that girly, lovely, fizzy quality to the fore, most of all. It's not the aliphatic aldehydes' cluster of perfumery materials that made the older versions waxy and clean-soapy; it's the brightness of its facade that belies its being born with a silver spoon in its mouth. It reminds me of New Year's Day mornings sipping champagne and eating eggs Benedict at a posh hotel dining room after a night out dancing. It's festive, dazzlingly bright, ethereal, and with its hopes for the best risen to their apex. The balancing act of the fragrance lies in judging how the citrusy freshness extends and rejuvenates the rose in the heart; there's a delicate, wisp-like chord of citrus and rose. What has kept me then from owning a bottle? Poor performance, mostly, as I have mentioned in an article I wrote "Eau Couture for Chanel No.5 L'Eau". Yet it smells good and puts good-natured charm in one's mien. 

There's a time and place for that, too, and champagne bubbly for January of a new year could not meet with a more reliable ally. 

 

Careful: the 2008 edition had a tall architectural bottle resembling that of Elixir Sensuel, while the 2015 edition has the classic squared shouldered bottle of No.5. 

Eau d'Italie Magnolia Romana: fragrance review

 The beauty of the gigantic blossoms of magnolia is their happy citrusy freshness: I always find myself surprised that the sheer awe the blossom creates, in terms of visual volume (their size is quite something!) is transliterated into a scent that is airy, crystalline, and quite delicate. Spare a thought for the contrast of the heavy and trickily intoxication that jasmine absolute stands for in relation to the minuscule flower itself. In Eau d'Italie's Magnolia Romana the airiness of the blossom is highlighted through a very appropriate watery and ozonic accord that embraces the waxy flower, and makes it seem even fresher, as if it's still attached on the tree where it blossomed. 

The addition of a piquant green note (a hint of spice) and the clear orange blossom (which is treated to turn very soapy) are further additions which reinforce that impression of rejuvenation. This effect not only faithfully recreates the necessary natural ambience around the magnolia tree, it also corresponds well to the ambience implied by the brand's name: Italy. The company was founded on the premises of the Hotel La Sinenuse at Positano, a beautiful little town off the coast of Amalfi in the south of Italy.

It's true that magnolias don't grow in soils and climes that are not warm, being almost sub-tropical in categorization, and the environment of temperate Italy is adequately conductive, especially now with global warming (there's the lone nice side-effect of it...) So if you're living somewhere where the climate zone prohibits enjoying the elation and optimism that such a sunny, open blossom as the magnolia evokes, Magnolia Romana might do the trick, all year round, to bring Italian spring into your life.

The Different Company White Zagora: fragrance review

White Zagora by The Different Company stands as an optimism shot for occasional gloomy days, even if the heat does not let us perceive them as such. It's an uncomplicated scent of bright citruses allied to a core of orange blossoms, with the greener (thanks to the note of neroli, the distillate from the citrus aurantium flower), the crisper, more joyful and spring-fresh elements pronounced.

photo copyright Elena Vosnaki

Whenever I spray the vivacious, optimistic scent of  White Zagora, composed by perfumer  Emilie Coppermann, it makes me think of going out, striding with big steps to a purposeful destination that will fulfill important meetings and pleasurable sights to quench my soul's thirst.

I predict that it will get me through summertime, especially if seascapes elude me for longer than anticipated. It's a Mediterranean scent, but it does not particularly evoke aquatic destinations, despite its refreshing character. It's "white" but not detergent-like. It's pure, unadulterated pleasure in a bottle!

The Unisex Beauty of Guerlain's Jicky (Photo Collection, Short Review & Perfume Musings)

Jicky by Guerlain is a gender bender perfume to end all gender benders; changing sex and direction mid-stream in its illustrious career like an adolescent fulfilling a transgender urge.
The issue of what differentiates female from male idiosyncrasies in general is complicated enough, so it's only natural that one of the most popular questions in perfume for and general discussion is how the opposite sex perceives and decodes the fragrances meant for the other sex.
In perfume terms the composition of different formulas for the two sexes, roughly floral and oriental for the ladies, with a sprinkling of chypre and fruity, reserving woody and citrus for the gentlemen, is a relatively recent phenomenon, dating from the dawn of modern perfumery in the end of the 19th century. Up till then, there was pretty much lots of leeway for men to delve in floral waters of the Victorian era or even the rich civet and musk laden compositions of 18th century decadence.

photo by Elena Vosnaki

Why the name Jicky? "From his student days, perfumer Aimé Guerlain kept the enamoured memory of a young woman named Jicky to whom he paid a beautiful homage with one of his most wonderful olfactory creations. By pure coincidence, the diminutive of his nephew Jacques was also Jicky. Jicky initiated the creation of "abstract perfumery" as opposed to "figurative perfumery". With its interplay of unique facets, it was the first in the perfume world to have such a trail and tenacity. This forerunner of new modern olfactory creations is the founding father of the legendary Shalimar."

Or so the story goes...because it is but a story, a fabricated myth that shows how fragrance tales were used to be told in the olden days...

photo by Elena Vosnaki

Nowadays, lavender , as in a classic like Jicky, is almost code-name for men's cologne, the backbone of a typical fougère fragrance for men, especially since archetypes such as this originally-aimed-at-women-then-usurped-by-men of good taste cemented this notion. The tension of the citrus top note with the animal character of the base is what makes the "jam"; lots of musk and lots of civet too in the older formula, evident in extrait de perfume formula and the not so distant kinship of Mouchoir de Monsieur fragrance, also by Guerlain.

Evaluating a masculine or unisex fragrance is always harder for me than evaluating a fragrance that is divested of its loaded semiotics of gender, or which appeals to my own femininity heads on. At least I can asses femininity first hand and dismiss the hyperbolic claims of modern advertising with a wave of a well-manicured hand. 

In perfume terms the composition of different formulas for the two sexes, roughly floral and oriental for the ladies, with a sprinkling of chypre and fruity, reserving woody and citrus for the gentlemen, is a relatively recent phenomenon, dating from the dawn of modern perfumery in the end of the 19th century. Up till then, there was pretty much lots of leeway for men to delve in floral waters of the Victorian era or even the rich civet and musk laden compositions of 18th century decadence.

It's therefore somewhat fitting the zeitgeist, with the discussion about gendered IDs flaming up again, that Guerlain revisited their roots tentatively when launching Mon Guerlain in 2017 with their merging of lavender (more prominently than in the Yves Saint Laurent fragrance Libre) with their trademark orientalized vanilla. From it, a spawn of feminine fragrances with lavender came forth like mushrooms after the rain.

photo by Elena Vosnaki

Jicky by Guerlain remains a monument, a beacon of taste in a tasteless world. 

Hermes Le Jardin de Monsieur Li: fragrance review

Musing by Guest Writer AlbertCAN

创新是什么? 可以吃吗？
What is innovation? Is it edible?
—Contemporary Mandarin humour*

和谐 (Trad. 和諧)
Pinyin: hé xié
1. harmonious; harmony
2. (euphemism) to censor

Of all the celebutantes the fragrance world has attributed to—Jicky, Madame Rochas, Misia, Monsieur de Givenchy, Liù, just to name a few—I have a particular affinity to Monsieur Li, an eponymous personality penned by Jean-Claude Ellena, the now-emeritus master perfumer for the iconic French design house Hermès.

As with everything in life, timing is everything: I have befriended Li in the spring of 2015, during an relocation to Vancouver’s historic Chinatown district, not only working as a financier to a heritage bank, but also living mere blocks away from Dr. Sun Yat-Sen Classical Chinese Garden, the first Suzhou-style garden established outside of China and aptly named after the Father of the Nation in the Republic. Corner office befitting a financier? Check. Tasteful requisite objets d'art for a banking office? Of course. (Can you expect any less?) Ambient scent of choice, in the heart of Chinatown ? Hermès Le Jardin de Monsieur Li (2015).

At this juncture of the musing let’s get something out of the way: This Monsieur Li is a fictional character. And to any native Chinese speaker, this man is a gentle synecdoche to Mainland China . Please do not reduce this surname as an exercise in economy—any native Mandarin would instantly attribute this man as a Mainlander. (As opposed to Lee, who are most likely not.) In fact, under such context, this gentleman is somewhat of an everyday man, arguably China ’s cultural equivalent of Mr. Smith from North America, Monsieur Durand France . Given such logic, the name for this fragrance betrays a poetic subtext: A Garden of Everyman.

Hermès, Everyman? As I can hear the gentle murmur amongst you, dear audience. Ringing the affirmative is the answer. If I shall name one outstanding quality of Monsieur Li, incredible sociability comes to mind. Master perfumer Ellena has selected gentle note contrasts as the foundation of his jardin compositions, and this citrus aromatic is no exception. The garden here opens with kumquat, a beguiling citrus the Chinese often fondly savour during happier times—as confits during Lunar New Year, even serving along a variety of preserved foods from lotus to coconut, melon, ginger to the all important Chinese deities, as a mean to sweeten their tongues (lest them bad-mouth the mortals upon returning to celestial abodes for the holiday). Kumquat trees are also often a staple in Chinese and Vietnamese Lunar New Year celebrations, as they symbolize good fortune and prosperity. The inclusion of jasmine here, of course, is somewhat of a foregone conclusion, given the exalted status of the flora in China . Although, mind you, this jasmine is also resoundingly à propos in its political correctness, arguably not just because of the utilization of Hedione High Cis: I suspect any concrete conjuring of the real deal may be misinterpreted as a reminder of the Thou-Shall-Not-Be-Named failed coup d'état, with its moniker attributed possibly related to the flora in question.** White musk and mint round off the harmonious bouquet. The overall sillage persistently optimistic, the mellow diffusion a study of calibrated cheerfulness. The aromatic bone structure murmurs excellent breeding. Its gentility evident; its silken elegance aplenty.

Does Hermès Le Jardin de Monsieur Li, complete with its effortless joy, complement the Les Jardins series? Yes. Can this Monsieur Li potentially be a kissing cousin to another? That’s also a yes.

“Why are you choosing my signature fragrance as your office scent?” 

Soon after debuting my ambient choice a Financial Planner discreetly confronting me so. The issue? Her signature scent in question is Green Tea by Elizabeth Arden. That discussion eventually turning into a passionate side-by-side scent development mini symposium—amongst two financiers, no less. (The absurdity of that situation is completely lost upon me.)

Years after that rhapsodic episode the underlying issue is worth a sombre second thought here. This garden is not the Chinese of yore. Ellena can choose from a wide range of Chinese landmarks—many of which UNESCO certified to boot—yet this isn’t the case. The aromatic elements mentioned are of Chinese origin, yet under different contexts they can also be interpreted in a very modern fashion. In fact, this fragrance is decidedly modern—androgynous, versatile—and there’s a delicate sexual fluidity underneath its aromatic pulse. (A scent referencing a gender, however unisex, cannot be devoid of sexuality altogether, no?) Likewise, the garden of Li is neither composed of imperial peonies nor sandalwood. Simply put, this is for Modern China, period.

Style wise I actually consider this fragrance to be in complete alignment with Rhythm of China (2007), the first ever Chinese-themed Hermès silk scarf designed by a Chinese artist. Just look at it. There’s an air of electricity permeating throughout. Perhaps the traffic lights during the day, or is it neon lights by night—perhaps both? And yet, wrapping it around a Kelly or a Birkin bag, or simply wearing it as is, the jolt transforms into something else, something decorative. There’s something harmonious about such ambiguity.

It’s no accident that we have referenced the concept of harmony, or hé xié in Mandarin, several times throughout this article. While it’s an important principle of design in its own right, harmony is no trifle matter within contemporary Chinese culture. I am going to reference Wikipedia here, since it succinctly summarizes the heart of this matter:

The "Socialist Harmonious Society" concept represents a new direction of Chinese communist leadership that signified the transition between Jiang Zemin and Hu Jintao. Although on the surface, "socialist harmonious society" seems benign, many scholars believe that General Secretary Hu has a vision for a deeper reform of the political system in China . In addition, the idea of scientific development stresses on scientific discovery and technological advance, engines for sustainable growth in the long run. Sustainable growth is a concept in macroeconomics that signifies GDP at potential (i.e. all that is produced is being consumed and there is no cyclical unemployment) for years to come.

In addition, the Socialist Harmonious Society concept was a response to the problem of social inequality/ wealth gap, which if not dealt with immediately, could lead to social unrest and even turmoil. A key reason contributing to a widening wealth gap was social injustice, which features collusion between entrepreneurs and officials. Through collusion, entrepreneurs were able to buy land from farmers and then sell it at high prices. Furthermore, with the protection of local officials, private coal mine owners ignored safety regulations to cut production costs. As a result, thousands of miners are killed in accidents.

Since the Tiananmen Square protests of 1989, the leadership has been extremely sensitive about maintaining stability. General Secretary Hu's focus on stability and openness is the central model addressed in the book The J Curve: A New Way to Understand Why Nations Rise and Fall by Ian Bremmer. According to Bremmer, the Chinese government is trying carefully to avoid instability by jumping from a controlled social environment on one end to complete openness on the other. The "J Curve" model is applicable to the political development of most nations and presents a choice between stability and openness. The concept of "Socialist Harmonious Society" is said to include both elements of the model. Hence, Hu's "socialist harmonious society" has an underlying message of establishing political reform as well as safeguarding social justice and equality.***

So how does this affect the aesthetics of Monsieur Li? Further notation from the same article:

While initially the public's reaction to the idea was positive, over the years "Harmonious Society" has emerged as a euphemism for "stability at all costs," and has garnered its share of critics. The government often uses "Harmonious Society" to justify the suppression of dissent and the tight control on information in China . Some social commentators have pointed out the irony that in building a "harmonious society" the country has become less just, less equal, and less fair. Meanwhile, some of Hu's critics say that application of the "Socialist Harmonious Society" concept has resulted in anything but itself. China scholar Cheng Li said that Hu's failure in implementing the Socialist Harmonious Society program has been his "gravest pitfall" during his tenure. Critics cite the increased wealth gap, higher internal security budgets, and unprecedented corruption in state-owned industries as evidence that Socialist Harmonious Society has failed in practice.

The term "River crab" (Chinese: 河蟹; pinyin: héxiè) has been adopted as internet slang in Mainland China in reference to Internet censorship. The word river crab sounds similar to the word "harmonious" in Mandarin Chinese. In addition, the word "harmonious" can itself also be the placeholder verb for "to censor", most often referring to posts on a forum that have been deleted because of its unacceptable content, or the censorship of stories reporting sensitive issues in the press. Something that has been censored in this manner is often referred to as having been "harmonized" (被和谐了).***

Yet I have digressed. Let’s talk corporate bottom line, shall me?

Ellena, no matter how much of an exalted figure in perfumery, could not afford to miss boat here. Especially after Un Jardin après la Mousson (2008). And with this Chinese garden being one of his swan songs, a failure to launch would have been disastrous. This is really not the time to experiment, to innovate.

Traditional China might sound romantic to some, but that crowd has never been the core of the Hermès growth—it’s the nouveau riche that has kept the financial engine humming.

There’s no doubt in my mind that Ellena’s stature in perfumery is reassuringly beyond reproach. At this same time, as much as we would like to think that the Mida’s touch is in spades, this launch is stacking up to be much too expensive for a risk. What it’s all said and done, harmony reigns supreme.

Now I am really not in a position to surmise development details of the Hermès Le Jardin de Monsieur Li, though I often wonder if its lack of assertion ends up serving as a footnote on the general zeitgeist of Modern China, however breath-taking its metamorphosis may be.

Often when I visit this Chinese garden, I wonder what my friend Monsieur Li looks like. Willowy of course, impeccably decked in Hermès no doubt. Graciously open-minded yes, perhaps generous to a fault. Good looking, yet with a somewhat forgetful ordinarity about his charm. However personable he may be, his words are diplomatic, action always calibrated. I think there’s a fluidity in his way, but I think he keeps it out of joint. Never putting his heart on his sleeves, never speaking his mind directly to anyone.

Hermès Le Jardin de Monsieur Li is a Citrus Aromatic fragrance for woman and men, and available in select Hermès boutiques and Point of Sales worldwide.

This fragrance review is based on a sample personally purchased by the writer in 2015 at an Hermès boutique.

Photos by Hermès and Wikipedia Common.

* Any arbitrary concept can be substituted into this modern sarcasm, to denote the futility of a particular idea—especially since sustenance is the cornerstone of Chinese culture.

** I’m absolutely in no position to comment on anything related to this matter. Googling “jasmine contraband New York Times” shall suffice—should your region allows so.

*** https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Harmonious_Society

Chanel Cristalle: fragrance review, history & comparison of concentrations

To consider Cristalle by Chanel a predominantly "fresh" scent begs the question: which version of it? Contrary to some of the previous fresh scents that dominated the 1970s like Eau de Patou, Eau Libre (YSL) or Eau de Rochas, Cristalle has circulated in two distinct variations that differ considerably.

Although only one of them is set in the 1970s, namely the eau de toilette original version, the 1990s eau de parfum edition is also popular and perhaps blurs the lines most between simple freshness and ripe enigma; if the citrus burst of the eau de toilette is a sunny but still crisp morning, then the more floral chypre leaning of the eau de parfum is late afternoon when the warmth of the sun has made everything ripen and smell moist and earthy.

The structure of Chanel Cristalle Eau de Toilette is citrusy green, almost cologne-y, with only a hint of chypre perfume  structure; more jovial, more unisex and altogether happier. The structure of the Cristalle Eau de Parfum version is more feminine, with the floral offset of jasmine and ylang ylang bringing to the fore the more romantic elements. If the former is a brainy librarian, the latter is a brainy librarian with one button undone on her blouse. As you would surmise from my description, I like and respect both, but would personally find more cause for celebration in the latter.

Cristalle is a case in point where the genius of Henri Robert is fittingly corralled to that of Jacques Polge, the two perfumers responsible for the creation of the former and the latter editions respectively.

The 1970s were all about freshness, vivacity, a new energy with the youth movement and the female emancipation. A lively citrusy green scent like Cristalle Eau de Toilette sounds totally logical and expected of the historical context. Cristalle Eau de Toilette has endured and has gained new fans over the decades exactly because it is a triumph of mind over matter. It feels tinglingly fresh, yes; it feels brainy and perfect for sharing whether you are a man or a woman. It also fits its architectural packaging to a T, perhaps more than any other perfume in the Chanel stable. It feels sleek and sparse and 100% proud of it. It also means that when you opt for it you know you're picking the freshest thing in the shop; there is nary a fresher scent on the Chanel counter now or ever. Only the galbanum throat-slicing-blade of the original Chanel No.19 could be compared for sheer chill!

But what about the Eau de Parfum version of Chanel's Cristalle?

The 1990s have gained an odd reputation in perfume lovers' minds because they mostly contributed the mega trend of the "ozonic" and "marine" fragrances, scents cutting loose with the denser and richer French and American tradition and ushering a sense of Japanese zen into personal fragrance. At the time they produced a huge chasm with everything that preceded them; and fittingly one of the first to do so was Kenzo pour Homme in 1991. Suddenly one wearing such a quiet scent seemed like someone walking in velvet slippers contrasted with a Louboutin stiletto wearer, emitting Dior Poison, marking some poor 18th century parquet floor; you instantly knew who was going to get more sympathetic smiles and friendly nods of the head and who was to be greeted with wrinkled noses. Such were the mores then; we have become loud with our scent choices again of course. But the overindulgence in quiet can become deafening in the end and this is what happened by the end of that grunge-dominated decade. Still Chanel Cristalle Eau de Parfum managed to straddle the ground between quiet and loud, producing a composition between soft flannel wool and luxurious yet rough soie sauvage which was advertised with the immortal line: "Exuberance comes of age!"

Hermes Twilly d'Hermes: fragrance review

Perfumer Christine Nagel's style could be likened to an Italian sunset. Probably has to do with her paternal Italian side. The bleeding of the colors into the sky and the transformation of dusk into darkness could be compared with her inimitable mastery at blending luminous and bright notes into chords which resonate deeper and darker as the scent develops throughout time. You're never on a simple path with her perfumes, such as the stupendous Maboussin, the balsamic wonder of Les Larmes Sacrees de Thèbes among her limited edition perfume trio for Baccarat, or the intricately sweet Si fragrance by Giorgio Armani, and of course the stupendous Theorema by Fendi, a case study in how to make a non threatening oriental fragrance.
and there's always something to discover in the process.
I find this quality quite enjoyable in her latest creation, Twilly by Hermès, the house Nagel now acts as in-house perfumer for.

double exposure photography artwork by Antonio Mora via

Although Twilly d'Hermès possesses that optimistic flair (via its fresh citrusy opening) that people find more summery than wintery, I find that the composition veers into another direction very, very quickly thanks to the brilliant combination of fresh ginger and a floralcy which is hard to pinpoint (official sources say tuberose, but it's a totally unexpected kind of tuberose). A kaleidoscope of green, floral, and even earthy and woody nuances pass before your nostrils in quick succession, as if buoyed by the golden light of a glorious afternoon full of grace when everything seems to happily melt unto itself.

Twilly d'Hermès doesn't remind me of any other fragrance I know (which is remarkable in itself) and it's playful enough and light enough to appeal to younger women without appearing condescending in the least. Nevertheless, its very memorability lies in the delicate and rather sophisticated interweaving of fresh spiciness and carnal sensuality without recalling any particular genre: is it spicy floral? is it a citrusy woody? is it floral woody musky? It's a puzzle, but a good one.

Her last two fragrances for Hermes showcase the treatment of light and delicate juxtaposition.
Eau de Rhubarbe Ecarlate is a study in this duality, whereupon the succulent yet fresh rhubard note is envelopped in high-tech musks to give a persistent buzz like a bubblebee around nectarous blossoms. And Galop, for all its deluxe price, does not smell like it's trying too hard; a bet lost by many of the luxury segment brands nowadays, who, intent on presenting something posh, lose the golden measure and load the perfume with insurmountable heaviness. Galop, on the contrary, breathes!

Twilly increases its appeal with repeated wearings, so I suggest you give it some thorough testing before pronouncing a definitive assessment. It's young and probably not too serious in intent, but we all have our heavyweights for the days we want to immerse ourselves in existential ennui I suppose.

Serge Lutens La Myrrhe: fragrance review

Frankincense is met at the church as the censer spreads the fragrant smoke in the congregation. Myrrh is met at asketaria; monastic places of anchorites who end up their days exuding the smell of sanctity...or so witnesses say. In the iconoclastic La Myrrhe by Serge Lutens myrrh takes center stage given a centripental force spin which makes you lean your neck all the way up to there to just observe the gracious arc before it plunges into bittersweet soap¨aldehydes play their part with bravado. The overlaying accents of mandarin and honeyed notes melt's La Myrrhe's bitter resinous heart into the illusion of prettiness. When in fact it's a compellingly strange study in contrasts.

via

The word "demon" (δαίμων) means spirit or divine power replete with knowledge in classical Greek mythology; at least up to the Neo-Platonics. Hence Socrates's famous claim of "being true to his inner demonium" and Diotema's lesson to him in Plato's Symposium that "love is a greater demon". Is myrrh therefore a demon? An entity between material (mortal) and spirit (divine knowledge)?

Myrrh is indeed someplace between the two; its very nature bears this duality. On the one side a numbing of the senses; a narcotic hedone that lulls the pain. On the other a scourging bitterness that reminds us of the pain of life. Two isomers that share the same structure arranged in different ways; two faces of Janus.

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Lutens and his perfumer sidekick Christopher Sheldrake were therefore the first to showcase the Janus-like nature of myrrh for all its worth in their epoch making creation. Experiencing La Myrrhe takes multiple uses to savor the bittersweet elements and the waxy-aldehydic shimmer that glistens upon skin application. I very much doubt I was fully aware of the complexity and irony built into it when zooming on the reddish liquid and paying for it that momentous time back. It must have been pure instinct or the patron saint of perfumery St. Magdalene who guided my young hand; it was my very first "bell jar" out of the purple seraglio in the Palais Royal and it marked me with its duality ever since.

Berdoues Cologne Grand Cru Assam of India: fragrance review

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

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

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

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

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

via

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

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

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

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

Acqua di Parma Colonia Ambra: fragrance review & draw

Tucked among the crags of western Portofino Promontory is the town of Camogli, which the novelist Charles Dickens once declared "the saltiest, roughest, most piratical little place. " Its sea dog mercenaries were sought after to rival the fleet of the ally city state Genoa. Ambergris, that adventure in a bottle for armchair mariners, is at the very core of inspiration for Colonia Ambra by Acqua di Parma, which I discovered this year and immediately liked.

via

That's not coincidental, as ambergris, the prized animal exudation from sperm whales for perfume, is a scent I could (and do) wear neat on my skin in alcohol tincture. Dedicated to a gentleman who loves to travel and explore new cultures, Colonia Ambra is part of the "ingredients themed editions" of the classic Colonia by Acqua di Parma (The other two editions include Colonia Leather and Colonia Oud, also good).

The mention of the other editions is not without merit; if you like Colonia Oud, this edition, Colonia Ambra, is like the oud base has been stripped off but the smoky woody goodness remains, layered rich and thick and nuzzling on the skin. The cypriol addition makes its presence known (as does patchouli) and the warm materials shift the direction into a woody oriental, milder and softer than Colonia Oud. I could very well wear this frequently; it's refined and lasting without elbowing anyone out of the way, yet it is no wallflower either.

Although the skeleton for the classic Colonia is one of stark freshness, the citrus fruits in Colonia Ambra have purposefully lost their sparkle in order to solely render a "lift" to the warm, musky aura of ambergris, musk and patchouli which are at the very nucleus of this composition. One can't really describe the notes one by one, as the blend is relatively tight and the overall effect is one much more refined than the allusion to Camogli would suggest.

Fans of amber and vanilla scents in men's fragrances should explore Colonia Ambra. This is marketed to men, but I find that it can be shared by women perfectly, like boyfriend jeans or a nice velvet jacket for evenings over one's chiffon top to keep the chill out.
The projection and sillage are moderate, but the staying power is very satisfying given the posh price.

Fragrance Notes for Colonia Ambra by Acqua di Parma:
Top Notes: Orange, bergamot, petit grain
Heart Notes: Rose accord, cypriol, virginia cedarwood, patchouli
Base Notes: Ambergris, sandalwood, cistus labdanum, vanilla, musk

This is what Acqua di Parma says about the scent of Colonia Ambra:

"An original, elegant fragrance inspired by the distinctive combination of two olfactory themes that are bursting with personality - the citrus notes of Colonia blend with deep sensuality of Ambergris, an ancient essence that is extremely rare and precious. Its characteristic scent is owed by the effect of the ocean and the wind, shaping and caressing this precious substance for many years before casting it ashore on the world’s beaches. The zesty citrus top notes of orange and bergamot evolves into a warm heart with cedar wood, rose and patchouli. Sublimated by the perfect harmony of Ambergris with sandalwood, warmed by the soft accents of vanilla, this new Eau de Cologne Concentrée reveals its unique personality in base notes of inimitable elegance and refinement."

This edition of Colonia Ambra comes as a natural spray of Eau de Cologne Concentrée, encased in a beautiful luxurious fabric-covered box, available in a 100ml or 180ml size.

One lucky reader will receive a 5ml vial by leaving a comment below this post, stating their views on fragrances inspired by animal essences. Draw is international and ends Wednesday 23rd midnight. 

Related reading on PerfumeShrine:
Ambergris: Definition and Musings on "Whale Vomit" (?) 
Perfumes with Ambergris, the mysterious "grey amber" note
Acqua di Parma: fragrance reviews & news
Frequent Perfumery Questions on Perfume Shrine
Cypriol/Nagarmotha: Smokiness of Wood

Aedes de Venustas Copal Azur: fragrance review & samples giveaway

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

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

Biehl Parfumkunstwerke GS03: fragrance review

GS03 for Biehl Parfumkunstwerke is the acronym for perfumer Geza Schoen's third composition he signs with his initials for the quirky and arty niche brand hailing from Hamburg, Germany by way of New York and more ways than one stands as the distilled signature of his mature work passed down in flying colors. Everything is there: the copious amounts of Iso-E Super (a synthetic material he is famous for using in his work), the airy modern feeling like ambient music, the legibility and at once the wearability of the composition by man, woman or animal (well, I made the last one up, but you know what I mean). The scent gains in warmth and sensuality as the body heats up, the hallmark of a good "skin scent". Like plexi-glass bricks letting sunlight traverse through them, it only looks artificial first time around; familiarity gets it ingrained fast.

photo of Geza Schoen provided for PerfumeShrine use

For Geza, a molecular wizard who questions the very nature of fine fragrance, scent works like an invisible mantle, at once enhancing the wearer's "super powers," the way Superman's cape allows him to reach his flying potential, and creating an enigma as to their definite source (May we recall here his infamous Molecule 01, "an agreeable ambient presence which plays peek-a-boo with my nose" as Katie Puckrik said). Schoen doesn't like the modern approach of mass fragrance anyway: "Fragrance these days is all about naked women on the beach, naked women on the sofa, naked women in the arms of naked men—it’s so boring", he states in no uncertain terms.

For GS03 the concept was a totally modernized, galvanized Cologne, not a rehash. The classic of old, the Eau de Cologne formula (citrusy effervescence with herbal-aromatic accents and a very faint musk in the base) stands for the contentment of cleanliness, since it is routinely splashed on after a bath, but also of exhilaration and total body & mind detoxing; a simple message printed in thick, header bold: spray it on and just feel good about yourself! With a history of more than 3 centuries on its back it also risks coming across as "granny-ish" or maudlin. To avoid that Schoen and art director Thorsten Biehl worked on incorporating contemporary elements and a modern structure. The result reads as unisex, because there are no traditionally very feminine, dainty, pretty-pretty notes, nor heavily burly chest-thumping and gravelly-voiced masculine ones.

pic of Geza Schoen & Thorsten Biehl at work, provided for PerfumeShrine use

The top note of Biehl Parfumkunstwerke GS03 fragrance is as clear as a church bell pealing on a mountain top in the Alps, but at the same time quite soft and soapy-smelling, comprised of a pink pepper note (allied to what can only come across as sweet lemon to my nose) which reveals a less sharp than citrus, slightly fruity-rosy scent carried far by the scent of the alcohol carrier. The rejuvenating scent of juniper gives an herbal accent that recalls the bracing feel of downing a good gin. The lemony touch just aids in bringing forth the herbal aspects of juniper berries. The trick of juniper is clever; it has provided that contented, in-the-know smile I recall from wearing Angeliques sous la Pluie (Jean Claude Ellena for Editions de Parfums Frédéric Malle) and Juniper Sling (Olivier Cresp for Penhaligon's). The gin & tonic combination is as perennially pleasing as a button-down oxford shirt in white; it just works in any situation, on any wearer. It's also effortless, even if you're using Hendrick's. It seems to me that there is also a bitterish artemisia hint in GS03, a tickling of the sinuses which aids the pungent freshness (and some hedione); it would serve as both a contrast and a modifier, rendering the juniper fresher and the rest fruitier by contrast. The anchoring elements consist of the potent musky, cedar-like hum (Iso-E Super) which we have come to associate with Geza Schoen, with an added layer of castoreum, just enough to give interest.

pic of Geza Schoen & Thorsten Biehl provided for PerfumeShrine use

The projection of Biehl GS03 is mild: I catch whiffs now and then and if I lean over the spots I sprayed it's most definitely there, but it doesn't come across as "you're wearing perfume!" (Come to think of it, should anything?)

GS03 is available from the Biehl site, at Scent Bar and on Luckyscent.

Scent on Canvas Brun Sicilien: fragrance review

Brun Sicilien is brown only in the context of southern landscapes of sienna tiles or nubuck saddles on horses riding into the wilderness: the fragrance by new niche perfume line Scent on Canvas is sunny and free-spirited, with a resinous underlay, cinnamic facets surfacing on the ripe citrus rind of mandarin. The cunning relies on not building on a classic Italian cologne, but offering instead exactly the end of the spectrum of the citrusy notes where they lose their mouthwatering tanginess and retain a bitterish quality, coupled with a leathery note that cuts through the heat, in the same way that leathery scents (such as Etro Gomma or Knize Ten) are incisive. Although the composition of Brun Sicilien is not tightly clustered, allowing for the aromatic and white floral components to peek through, one would be hard pressed to call it merely “refreshing,” also thanks to its mysterious and sensual afterglow; it embodies much more of the mystery and boiling passions of the Mediterranean to be just that. Perfumer Alexandra Kosinski presented the composition to Beatrice Aguilar and she in turn thought of “riding along the unexpected roads of life.”

via designyoucantrust.com

Leather scents are an acquired taste and their individuality and quirkiness needs a bit of practice. In that context Brun Sicilien is not the easiest, being a true leather, instead of a orientalized ersatz suede smothered in vanilla and woods, but its wearability is superior than most and instantly appreciated by those coming into contact with it, as my personal experiments proved. Coming in an extrait de parfum concentration was a welcome surprise: the tenacity and smooth projection are sublime.

via toutlecine.com

The new niche collection "Scent on Canvas" so far includes five perfumes created by an eclectic mix of perfumers: Jórdi Fernandez (for Rose Opera and Noir de Mars), Shyamala Maisondieu (Ocre Dore), Alexandra Kosinski (Brun Sicilien) and the founder, Beatrice Aguilar herself (Blanc de Paris). The collection spans five fragrance genres with nuanced olfactory work within them: the starchy, woody musk, a predetermined crowd-pleaser (Blanc de Paris); the dark musty-mossy with guts (Noir de Mars); the mysterious, coppery woody (Ocre Dore); the rosy floral with mysterious, spicy-suede tonalities (Rose Opera) and the complex hesperidic-leathery (Brun Sicilien). Each fragrance is accompanied by a painting by a well-known painter who is inspired by the aromatics in the composition, then the painting is turned into an engraving which is used for the packaging of the fragrance: the inside of the box holds the engraving ready to be framed and hung on your walls.

Notes for Brun Sicilien by Scent on Canvas:
Top: white flowers, jasmine, Sicilian mandarin
Heart: gaucho leather, cardamom, black pepper, suede
Base: amber, birch, Indonesian patchouli, Madagascar vanilla

The perfumes are priced at 130 Euros for 100 ml of perfume/eau de parfum (only Blanc de Paris is an Eau de Parfum by design, the rest are extrait de parfum). A great value sample pack of all 5 scents is offered for only 10 euros online at the official e-shop.
More information: scentoncanvas.com

Ormonde Jayne Nawab of Oudh: fragrance review

I remember walking around an exhibition on Moghul India at the British Museum, resplendent in the opulence we associate with this particular region and time. The curlicued rupees bearing intricate names alongside triangular flags, ears of wheat and fishes were not strictly limited to Moghul rule, the curator explained; the Nawabs had seized control of their own regions by that time, issuing their own coins, but continuing to cajole the Mughal emperor by keeping his name on the currency. Similarly the latest India-inspired Ormonde Jayne fragrance, Nawab of Oudh, draws upon two different wells: the silk Banarasi saris of India, with their Moghul motifs and their heavy gold work, on one hand and the mystic Muslim tradition of roses and oud resin rising in the air from a censer at the mosques of Persia on the other.

Source: Uploaded by user via Melissa on Pinterest

Understandably, given those references, the perfume smells the way a metallic brocade looks: lush, rich, opulent, draped for elegance. But the artistry of perfumer Geza Schoen makes it modern and wearable too. Despite the by now tired trope of "oudh",  the note so often smelling more like a pack of Band-Aids than the exotic resin obtained by the pathological secretion of the Aquilaria tree when attacked by a fungus, there is none of that contemporary nonsense in Nawab of Oudh. There is a powdery, soft like cat's paws, ambery trail in the drydown, reminding me of Private Collection Amber Ylang (E.Lauder), which envelops the higher notes of green-citrusy brilliance into a cradle of plush. The distinction between phases (drawing upon the classical pyramid structure of perfumes) is here apparent, at least in a binary pattern: the introduction is distinctly separate from the prolonged (really impressively prolonged) phase of the drydown. In essence we have the interplay of raspiness and velvety softness, aided by the texture of the rose. Oud-laced roses have become a dime a dozen lately in niche perfumery, but I will withhold a place in my heart of Nawab of Oudh because it's so extraordinarily beautiful indeed.

And the name? How did it evolve and how does it unite those two worlds, India and the Middle East? Awadh or Oudh was a prosperous and thickly populated province of northern India (modern Uttar Pradesh), its very name meaning "capital of Lord Rama", the hero of the Ramayana epic. Its turmoiled history began with becoming an important province of the Mughal empire, soon establishing a hereditary polity under Mughal sovereignty; but as the power of the Mughals diminished, the province gained its independence. The opulence in the courts of the Nawabs (ruler kings of the Awadh, originating from a Persian adventurer called Sa'adat Khan) and their prosperity were noticed by the British East India Company, resulting in their direct interference in internal political matters, which reached its zenith in the eventual total loss of power by the Nawabs in 1856.

The official info on the scent by Ormonde Jayne runs thus: "Nawab (Ruler) of Oudh is a province of central India. Our perfume is inspired by the Nawabs who once ruled over it. It is a potent blend of amber and rose with a soft oudh edge. Yet surprisingly not one ingredient stands out from the others. It achieves a perfume synergy that defies traditional analysis, releasing a pulsating pungency, brooding and hauntingly beautiful, a rich tapestry of fascinating depths, a jewelled veil to conceal its emotional complexity and extravagance."

Notes for Nawab of Oudh:
Top: green notes, bergamot, orange absolute, cardamom, aldehyde.
Heart: rose, magnolia, orchid, pimento, bay, cinnamon, hedione.
Base: ambergris, musk, vetiver, labdanum, oudh.

Nawab of Oudh along with the rest of the "Four Corners of the Earth" collection by Ormonde Jayne, inspired by Linda Pilkington's travels, is exclusive to the London Ormonde Jayne boutiques at 12 The Royal Arcade and 192 Pavillion Road and at the Black Hall perfumery at Harrods.

Estee Lauder Azuree (original): fragrance review

There is a family of perfumes composed by the same brilliant perfumer: Aramis being the butch Godfather patriach, well behaved on the outside, dangerously brooding on the inside. Cabochard is the maternal force turning the neck (and therefore the head as well) in any which way she likes, while Azurée is the younger long-haired son or daughter driving fast without a licence. They could have been The Sopranos, had the show been more stylish-oriented and retro glamorous. Or not. It doesn't matter, we can imagine. For those who didn't know it, Azurée (1969) is by the great Bernard Chant, the guy behind both Cabochard and Aramis; a fresher interpretation of the Aramis idea given a luminous fruity topnote of refreshing bergamot, while still remaining resolutely herbal.

Chant was mad for chypres, skanky animalic or non; his Aromatics Elixir for Clinique is a seminal study on mossy herbal patchouli with a big rose lurking inside the bush. Azurée, albeit herbally green and chyprish, is softer than leathery Bandit and lacks the acid green bite of the quinolines that compose the latter's leather note, thus making it more approachable, if largely unsung.

The zeitgeist and the image 

Azurée is unsung because it's an atypical Lauder fragrance. Usually big, expansive and highly floral femme in a very American way, Lauder fragrances are of a routinely high standard, yet of a somewhat "mainstream" image that belies their quality. It's all down to advertising and positioning; the repeat customer of Lauder (in makeup and cosmetics as well as fragrances) is the middle-aged, middle-class woman of predictably good taste, which tends to (unfortunately) brand the house as "unexciting". Azurée however could pass as a niche offering for the customers of -say- Beautiful or Pleasures. If it were embottled in a dark squarish flacon in the Tom Ford Privée line I bet it would be hailed as the new best thing. And it would cost the stars too, while I hear Azurée will only set you back about 40$.


We tend to forget that what passes as niche today was actually mainstream all right in 1969, when Azurée launched. We also tend to forget that the Mediterranean ideal that niche perfumes today advertise with the accompanying imagery/concept (from Aqua di Parma Blu Mediterraneo fragrances to Ninfeo Mio and Philosykos) was incorporated into perfume releases then without any visual or conceptual stimulus. It's odd to think Azurée as a perfume for Chicago wearing; it's just so darn South of France (or Capri-like) in its ambience! After all that's where its name derives from. I can almost see Romy Schneider in La Piscine putting some on casually before embarking in that fateful romance. Or think the swagger of Lauren Hutton when she was in her prime.
But then again, 1969 was the time of the sexual revolution and the fragrances matched the spirit of the times. To quote Queen, these "fat bottomed girls [were] gonna let it all hang out [and] make the rocking world go round"; out for good fun and expected to be worn indiscriminately, without pretence. Azurée is one such gal.

Scent description

The citrusy introduction of Azurée is wonderfully clean, bitterish and STRONG, providing the ouverture to an aria of leather, tar-like notes fanned on flowers and herbs. But the flowers don't register as especially feminine or romantic, rendering Azurée perfect for sharing between the sexes. A peppery twist is running throughout the fragrance, stemming from the herbal and basil notes and the more the scent dries down on skin the more the herbal and mossy character is surfacing. The perfume straddles several families in fact, from aldehydic, green/herbal, woody & leather without trying to please everyone and ending up pleasing nobody; and that's a great thing!
 The herbal and pungent character makes it very detached from today's sweet sensibilities, unless we're talking about niche perfume wearers joining you, so it's advisable to limit its use to smart company and minute application (it's POTENT stuff!). Amazingly, it's also not ruined through various reformulations, so great value for money all around.

Please note: The classic Azurée is NOT to be confused with Azurée Soleil (also very good but in a completely different game) or any of similarly named "beachy scent" summer variant to be launched in the future perhaps. You will know you got the classic, if you had to ask the sales assistant at the Lauder counter to get this out of the back of her drawer, like it were illegal contraband.

Notes for E.Lauder Azurée:
Top notes: Aldehydes, bergamot, artemesia, gardenia
Heart notes: Jasmine, geranium, cyclamen, orris, ylang-ylang
Base notes: Leather, patchouli, oakmoss, musk, amber

And another set of notes, via Basenotes:
top: basil, jasmine, and citrus
heart: armoise, sage, spearmint, vetiver, and rose
base: patchouli, moss, and amber

pics of Romy Schneider & Alain Delon in La Piscine via europeanbreakfast.tumblr and habituallychic.blogspot.com

Etat Libre d'Orange Fils de Dieu du Riz et des Agrumes: fragrance review

Despite allusions to Messianic status and references to a Far Asian dish full of endemic ingredients, Fils de Dieu is neither incense-based, nor is it foody in smell. Instead it shoots clarity, modernity and prized complexity into an age-old structure, the classic oriental perfume, making it shed its abundant sunshine like a golden ray shimmering onto yellow butterflies flying over the spring blooms in the balcony. Forget the controversy factor and scare-the-horses impact of the niche brand's infamous Sécrétions Magnifiques. This one is instantly (and easily) likeable stuff you will get serious milleage off; which I'd think defeats the brand's "perfume is dead, long live perfume" manifesto, but there you have it: they need to make wearable stuff too I suppose. Fils de Dieu is among their most approachable. 

Biko rice cupcakes from the Philippines

Etat Libre d'Orange describes its latest fragrance Fils de Dieu du Riz et des Agrumes (its full name meaning “Son of God of rice and citrus”) as "the one who brings on the light, the sunshine", drawing from the Philippines lore (its alternative name was Philippine Houseboy). Perfumer Ralf Schwieger (of Lipstick Rose fame), set to task by the brand's head Etienne De Swardt, took the basic structure of a classical oriental built on tart citrus and creamy ambery and vanillic notes (see Shalimar or even better the more legible Shalimar Light) and renovated it into a modern creation that registers as totally urban, totally effarvescent, totally wearable. But that's not to mean it wears thin or minimalist: the projection of the mouilletes on my library is reaching me, diffusing with gusto, in the bedroom and the sillage trailing off my chiffon blouse is enough to entice the neighbour meeting me round the corner to ask what I am wearing. "It's Fils de Dieu", I reply rather self-consious. "Oooh, sounds like one of those delectable things only you carry around here!" she replies with a resigned sigh. I oblige and write the name down along with intrstructions on where to get some.

That is the effect the new Etat Libre d'Orange fragrance has: uplifting, inviting, alluring, radiant. Despite the lack of heft its vanilla background has (forget thick, "burnt" too foody vanillas, this is nuanced and sophisticated), the tenacity of musk, the crushed flower petals and the profusion of leathery castoreum (reminiscent of a FarEast massage parlour) accounts for a composition that will get you noticed throughout the day. If the equally inviting Etat Libre d'Orange Archives 69 and their universally liked Like This is any indication, the French brand is following a certain kind of compositions quite purposefully lately. 

But the interesting thing about Fils de Dieu is the masterful playing of contrast and the injection of herbal into the classic oriental motif: the ginger (in itself having a citrusy facet) pairs with other hesperidic notes, notably sharp lime, starting with bracing, mouthwatering freshness (not unlike the bergamot-rich head note of Cologne Bigarade in the F.Malle line). There's the subtle and brief fennel-like note of shiso and then the perfume swims confidently into plush comfort through the milky-rice note of coconut-milk steamed rice. The zen-like effect of savoury rice cooking on the stove was perhaps most famously explored by niche brand Ormonde Jayne in Champaca: there's something home-bound and soothing about that smell and Linda Pilkington had revealed to me in an interview that she had envisioned it inspired by her Chinese neighbours cooking rice at their appartment every evening. Etat Libre had injected a rice note as a hint in their previous Putain de Palaces. But in Fils de Dieu the progression melds effortlessly into an intimate, gourmand aftertaste with lots of coriander (orange-saffron like, almost), a metallic nuance and suede, sultry leathery notes which retain the fragrance deliciously on both skin and cloth.

Etat Libre d'Orange Fils de Dieu, du Riz et des Agrumes is available from Henri Bendels, MiN New York and online from Luckyscent and Les Senteurs.


Notes for Etat Libre d'Orange Fils de Dieu:
Ginger, coriander leaves, lime, shiso, bergamot, Jungle Essence coconut, rice note, Jungle Essence cardamom, jasmine, cinnamon, French May rose, tonka bean, vetiver, musk, amber, leather, castoreum.

photo via cupcakeproject.com