In Robert Graves's historical novel "I, Claudius", the ill and eldely emperor Caesar Augustus ~commonly referred to as Octavian~, suspicious of his conniving and megalomaniac wife Livia finally trying to make away with him for the benefit of her son's from another marriage succession to the throne (the emperor to follow, Tiberius), adjusts his diet into relying on the sole consumption of fruits cut straight from the tree. Those cannot be tampered with, he falsely reckons!
My thoughts revert to the Roman emperor as I contemplate a Greek proverb denoting the quick passage of time, one which involves the month to which he gave his name: "From August winter and from March summer". Although the former I can assure you is not climatically sound for this part of the world (winter doesn't really hint at its arrival till the middle of November!), the latter part is certainly true. As sping-like and summery thoughts have been crossing my mind these sunny days when the temperatures are often reaching 18-20 Celsius and bergamot and citrus fruits have occupied these pages, I remember a scent named August which I ironically discovered in the heart of winter.
August by Erik Kormann is a very refreshing, simple and uncomplicated summery splash to enjoy while staying in the sun under an umbrella, or when donning a big staw Panama on your head, traipsing along bazaars, in the search for the ultimate teakwood jewel-case with the just right marqueterie. It's so refeshing that it's like a drink that is succulent and full of vitamins! It's very fitting to call it August, but since the main notes are fruits that I usually consume throughout autumn, I think it's not bad for the colder season as well, to which it brought many moments of pleasure. I seem to get a HUGE note of mandarin/tangerine out of it initially, an orange rind that wraps everything in its bright halo. A slightly bitter note of petitgrain (the steam-distilled essence from the leaves and twigs of bitter orange tree, ie. citrus aurantium) provides a counterpoint of balance into the succession of greener floral notes (hedione) foiled in warm sandalwood and an abstract veil that radiates from the inside. I admit I don't get base notes per se: the oils last well, which means they're anchored with something which is not surfacing through by itself, nevetheless. The basic ingredients to do that are a light "clean" musk (Galaxolide) and a woody synthetic aromachemical (the ever popular Iso-E Super). And the lasting power is exceptional!
If my own bottle is any indication, you can see I have almost exhausted it... August is so deliriously happy and optimistic it would be excellent with matching body products to complete the vitamin-infused experience. I think Erik should definitely think about introducing them!
August is available in Eau de Parfum in transparent bottles with a Chinese ideogram on the front and the digit 8 (symbolising the 8th month in the year, which is indeed August). Available at: 1001 Seife, Xenia Trost & Erik Kormann, Rosenthaler Straße 36 - In den Rosenhöfen, 10178 Berlin Telefon: 0049. (0)30. 28095354 Fax: 0049. (0)30. 28095355
Sailing on the Mediterranean Sea under the sweltering sun of late summer on a wooden built gulet, rubber-soled feet on parquet decks, scarf on salty-sprayed hair, and the guarantee of sunshine and clear blue waters, is almost an unbearable reminiscence in the heart of winter. Relaxing on deck, wining and dining under the stars in eno-gastronomical matchings to threaten even the toughest dieter’s plan and hopping off to catch couleur locale wherever interesting is the nomadic life I would love to be able to live in full 12 months of the year, if only I could. But snippets will suffice and trailing the route where bergamot ~this prized material for both perfumery and aromatherapy~ abounds, has its own rewards to last throughout the year into the months of cold and dreary. Bergamot is inextricably tied to Sicily (the largest island in the Mediterranean Sea), the Calabria coast of Italy and the Ionian islands at the west of Greece. And indeed despite current cultivation on the Ivory Coast in Africa which produced a cheaper product, it is still Sicilian bergamot (and lemon too)which is considered the highest quality in the world ~although it's sad to see the groves now seem erratic and neglected. It's the kind of rich joyous aroma that scents the finest morning Earl Grey cup of tea and gives it its delightful flavour. The fruit of the bergamot is inedible but the peel can be candied into a highly scented preserve which is very popular along the breadth of the Mediterranean; an exquisitely bittersweet marmalade, yummy on rye bread and butter, is painstainkely made by housewives.
Trekking over the villages my heart aches a bit from the echo of Grecanic (Griko or Katoitaliótika), linguistic remnants of the time when Sicily and Calabria were called Magna Graecia (Greater Greece) because of the numerous villages that survived from the colonization of the Greeks in the 5th century BC. So many relics, so many conquests have left their indelible mark on this austere place… The history of Sicily has frequently seen the island controlled by greater powers—Roman, Vandal, Byzantine, Islamic, Hohenstaufen, Catalan, Spanish; yet periods of independence, as under the Greeks and later as the Emirate- then Kingdom of Sicily- are also part of its multi-hued fabric. Since antiquity, the Sicilian landscape has hosted the cultivation of groves of Hesperidia trees, specializing in growing the sweetest lemons in the Mediterranean; cultivations interwoven in many facets of the Sicilian lifestyle. The Garden of Hesperides according to classic Greek mythology belonged to Hera, Zeus’s wife and the Hesperides (Ἑσπερίδες) were nymphs, the daughters of Hesperus (God of the Evening Star, from whose name Vesper derives), who tended a blissful orchard in the far western corner of the world.
The peaceful place was either located near the Atlas Mountains in Libya, or on a distant island at the edge of the encircling Oceanus, the world-ocean, while Sicilian Greek poet Stesichorus and Greek geographer Strabo state that the orchard lies in Tartessos, at the southern edge of Iberia. In that garden a grove of immortality-giving “golden apples” grew. Those were planted from the fruited branches that Gaia (mother Earth) gave to her as a wedding gift when Hera married Zeus and the nymphs were given the task of tending to the grove, but occasionally plucked from it themselves. Hera also placed in the garden a never-sleeping, hundred-headed dragon named Ladon, as an additional safeguard. The eleventh labour of Hercules consisted of being ordered to steal the golden apples and bring them to Argos, Greece, although Athena later returned the apples to their rightful place. But in a strange course of events the mythological name Hesperide came to be applied to the golden fruits that came from the east, oranges, and ultimately to the entire citrus family!
Native to China and Southeast Asia (with mentions in the Nan-Fang Ts’ao Mu from the 4th century BC) and encompassing hundreds of variations, citruses were brought to the west by the Arabs through the Spice Route during the Middle Ages. Sicily (and Spain, to a greater extent due to the longer Arab conquest) thus became centers for the cultivation of hesperidia. During the 14th century, the spice and precious metals trade was the origin of wealth for the city-states of Italy, Venice and Genoa, until the battle at Chioggia in 1380, when defeated Genoa succumbed to a new reality: monopoly of the trade by the Venicians. Often Venetian galleys intercepted easterm caravans carrying wares at Aleppo, Handax or Alexandria, transporting the loot to European artisans. Among them, citrus fruits, only much later prized on board for their ability to fight scurvy.
One version of bergamot’s etymology attributes the root to a Turkish word meaning “Princess Pear”; another, after a small town in Italy where the oil was first sold. But it is Christopher Columbus who is said to have brought bergamot oil from the Canary Islands back to Spain and Italy. The bergamot tree (citrus bergamia) is the result of cross-breeding a lemon (citrus limonia) and a bitter orange tree (citrus aurantium). Classified as a citrus, the plant originated in tropical Asia but found an excellent breeding place in Sicily, Italy and the Ionian islands. Bergamot trees grow up to 16 feet tall, producing an almost pear-shaped, yellow fruit that is highly aromatic, similar to lemon, smaller than an orange. It was once called the Bergamot Pear Tree, not be confused with "false bergamot" used to aromatize Oswego-tea and derived from the plant Monarda didyma, a type of mint indigenous to the New World. Italian-conducted research indicates that bergamot oil relieves fear and anxiety, lifts the spirits, combating depression and calms anger by balancing the activity of the hypothalamus. Bergamot oil with its optimistic ambience evokes feelings of joy and acts as a confidence booster. Bergamot essence is easy to render, as are most citruses. I still recall how transfixed I was as a child scraping my nails on a bergamot or a lemon and being left with hands that almost dribbled with the bitter-tasting sour oil which scented them for hours on end. Cold-pressed /expressed from the rinds of the sour green fruit, a pale emerald-hued oil results, bergamot essential oil, possessing a refreshing lemony-orange smell, complex and with flower accents, yet also a subtly sweet balsamic undertone that makes it pliable to numerous uses in perfumery. The main chemical constituents in bergamot oil are limonene, linalyl acetate, nerol, and linalool; all are substances antiseptic and astringent with a fresh facet. The one constituent which might be possing a certain problem is bergaptene, a photosensitising agent, which has been under the radar of recent IFRA restrictions, although since forever the advice on putting fragrance on is not to use it on parts about to be exposed to the sun.
Bergamot and its uplifting aroma is traditionally paired with materials with citrusy nuances, such as lemon, coriander or orange blossom; rosey shades such as geranium or palmarosa; aromatic herbs/trees such as lavender, cypress or juniper; and flowers such as jasmine, ylang ylang and violet. Its alliance to erotic labdanum and darkish oakmoss (often with some inclusion of patchouli) creates the classic chypre accord, to which we have devoted a whole Series. But its wondrously influential use in simpler fragrance-waters hailing from Europe cannot be ignored!
To be continued...
The joyous spirit of hesperides matches the uplifting mood of this lovely Italian song which will surely brighten your day!
Inhaling a lemon grove's foliage trail in the morning air under hot azure skies, set to savour the day with optimism, full of joiedevivremust be one of life's simplest and most satisfying pleasures. Fragrances that give a lift to my step and make me face the mornings with élan are precious.
The task of achieving just that is not easy: it has to be uplifting, but also suave, not rasping on the senses which are slowly winding up to function from the night's inertia. Optimistic but with a hint of the stoic that marks the nature of my thoughts. Ô deLancômewith its playfully double entendreof aqueous name and cool, dark green chyprish tendencies puts the right balance between the zesty burst of yellow hesperides and the alchemy of green herbs, interwoven like baroque music with its rounded forms philosophically puts some semblance of order into chaos.
The first advertisements for Ô deLancômeemphasised the back to nature vibe that the French do so well with artistic merit: young women on bikes emerging from the rampant countryside, drenched in sunlight but with the coolness of spring air and dew in the fragrant grass, putting goosebumps on the skin at the hint of a breeze. It is so rare to encounter such a blatantly unpretentious image in fragrance advertising any more. Seeing those advertisements while leafing spring volumes of French Elle magazine, yearly devoted to beauty rituals of what seemed an arcane yet factually a simple mode, made me realize at a tender age how the natural world hides secrets of longing in the grass.
Composed in 1969 by perfumer RenéGonnon, Ô deLancômecame out at the time of Paris students' revolt and became an emblematic fresh Eau, taking the uber-successful EauSauvageone step further with the inclusion of synthetic aroma-chemical Thujopsanone. The consolidation of greenness under the crushed lemon leaves in the palm, with a subtle woody background resembles a viola dagamba supporting a clear, young female voice singing rounds of couplets in an allemande that converge on the same sweet surrender of a third majore of Provence in the end of a song in minore. Almost thirty years later and it retains the fresh radiance of a young girl, nary a shadow under the eye, curiously a tad sorrowful for the joys of life she has yet to experience.
Unejeunefillette
De noble coeur Plaisanteetjoliette
De grandevaleur
Outre son grès,
On l'arenduenonette Celui point deluihaicte D'oùvit en grandedouleur ~{see the translation and musical notation on this page}
"a new olfactory adventure [..] and perfumery would continue to explore its charms and powers until the early 80’s: EaudeRochas, deCourrèges, deGuerlain, dePatou, deGivenchy, Eau d’Hadrien (AnnickGoutal), Eaude Cologne d’Hermès, and even Cristalle (Chanel) and Diorella (Dior) would successfully pick up the gauntlet of those fresh, signature thrills that left their mark on an entire generation".
Eaude Toilette comes in 75ml/2.5-oz and costs €48.50 and lasts incredibly well for this kind of fragrance.
Available at major department stores and Sephora.
The fragrance was re-issued in 1995 with a slight change in colouring in the packaging, which is helpful in identifying batches: the band around the bottle changed from ambery brown to bright green, same with the colour scheme of the box. The motif on the glass, like 60s wallpaper as Susan Irvine succinctly put it, remained the same.
There are two "flankers" to the original fragrance, both futile in my opinion for different reasons: O oui!, a fruity floral in a similar bottle with the palest white-ish blue colouring, aimed at generation Y, so saccharine-full generic and dull that it barely made a bleep on the radar; and a men's version in a green capped spartan column of a bottle called O pour Homme, marketed with the symbol of Mars (and male too) as the variation on O. Pleasurable thought it is, it seems like a redundant attempt to market what is already an eminently unisex fragrance in a new packaging to the opposite sex.
No need to splurge in getting both: the original is perfect on men as well and I highly recommend it.
Pics from parfumdepub.
Clip of popular song UneJeuneFillettearranged by J.Savall from the exquisite film Tousles matins dumonde, originally uploaded by Peteronfire on Youtube
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!
In this month of chypres examination and discussion, Perfume Shrine pondered on their origin, their composition, the modern variations, their aesthetics and the relation they have to the zeitgeist(Click on the links to go to respective subject). It was about time we focused on the question whether there are indeed masculine fragrances that fall into this category of chypre. The matter arises because most of the frequently mentioned chypre perfumes are feminine, if you think about it. We also attribute traditionally perceived feminine characteristics to them, such as elegance or sartorial sophistication (for some reason this wouldn't resonate with the Italian man, but I digress). And the subcategories of floral or fruity within chypre often predispose one to think into such terms, although the seasoned perfumed lover is not restricted by such artificial limitations pertaining to gender.
Like we discussed before Chypre relies on the juxtaposition of bergamot and oakmoss, with the traditional inclusion of labdanum and usually of patchouli or vetiver. There is a comparable fragrance family for men, called Fougère (pronounced foozh-AIR), the French word for fern. In reality this is a fantasy accord because ferns have no real scent of their own. Fougère fragrances have fresh herbaceous notes, juxtaposing lavender with oakmoss on a fern-like base, with an element of Coumarin (the smell of freshly mown hay, naturally found in tonka bean, the seed of a West African tree which contains up to 40% of it). Masculine fragrances have usually gone the route of the fougère when trying to recreate a forest floor impression instead of chypre, perhaps due to the fact that chypre perfumes have been marketed to women, or because they often included floral elements which are traditionally thought of as feminine in the 20th century (albeit not before!).
Classification is rather dubious territory, as there are countless exempla of diversifications according to the source. Open any guide or reference site and you will see the differences leaping to the eye. Therefore the following is only an attempt to examine whether there is any logical base in attributing scents to this or that odorous category.
For starters, the matter of whether leathery scents are a subdivision of chypres (as they do mostly contain the basic accord)or a seperate category termed Leather/Cuir (according to the French Society of Perfumers) is significant. Going by that leathery and oftentimes tobacco scents very often do smell rather more masculine; such as the various Cuir de Russie versions (Chanel, Creed, Piver etc), Miss Balmain and Jolie madame by Balmain, Caron's fierce Yatagan and smoky Tabac Blond , or Bandit by Piguet, lost semi-legend Jules by Dior and Bel Ami by Hèrmes. You will notice that there is a proliferation of both -marketed as- masculine and feminine scents in the above. Should we or shouldn't we classify them under chypre? The matter remains open for discussion.
Another cross-polination happens, involving woody undertones. An example that would implicate those as well as a whiff of leathery castoreum is Antaeus by Chanel. Decidely butch, pheromonic almost and a powerhouse, it came out in 1981 by in-house perfumer Jacques Polge. It contains the pungency of male sweat and animalistic nuances with honeyed touches and much as I love it, I can't bring myself to don it on my person. The official notes listed (clary sage, lavender, myrrtle, labdanum, patchouli) do not include the classic accord of chypre despite the cool opening on an earthy animalistic background, yet one is hit with such a composition that might remind one of the family. Shiseido's Basala is another one, as well as the original Armani Pour Homme. There is some argument that coniferous elements such as pine essence as witnessed in Pino Sylvestre could be included in a subdivision of chypre.
The flip side of this confusion would be the lighter citrusy notes that might blurr the line between hesperidic and chypre. As chypre compositions contain a discernible citrusy pong via the inlusion of Calabrian bergamot, the notion isn't too far off. Chanel Pour Monsieur could be such an example. Elegant, refined, conceived while Coco Chanel was still alive, it pays tribute to all the famous men she had known. Created in 1951 by Henri Robert, second nose in la maison Chanel after legendary Ernest Beaux, it plays on a sharp and clean citrusy top that includes lemon, petit grain (the essence rendered from the twigs and leaves of the Seville bitter orange tree, Citrus aurantium) and neroli (the distilled essence of the flowers). It then segues to spicy notes of cardamon and white pepper that invite you closer, only to end on a whiff of cedar and vetiver that retains freshness and discretion for the wearer. Perhaps citrus-aromatic would be a closer categorisation.
And there are various decidedly masculine propositions that reek of the pungency of patchouli and vetiver, notes that are so much used for the modern chypres of the last few years.
Givenchy Gentleman, which is sometimes described as a woody oriental, is a beast of a patchouli perfume that remains untamed even though its name would suggest hand kisses and opening doors for you. He does, but then ravages you, ripping your bra off. The original Aramis for Men could be another case in point, especially given -again!- the suave name that would belie its intentions that open on a crisp note of artemisia and bergamot. It has of course intense woodiness too, thanks to sandal, but with the elements of a classic chypre in place as well. Coupled with a pinstripe suit it goes out to the City to trade stocks and in the lunch break goes off for supposedly a gym session that is in reality an illicit tryst. Why do such powerful and assertive masculine fragrances are given names that imply a more gentle approach? This could be the subject of another post...
For the time being,please offer your suggestions on masculine chypresand the reason why you classify them thus.
Perfumeshrine receives lots of mail from readers. Some with kind words of admiration, some with suggestions (which are much appreciated), some with questions on various matters. The latter usually make me ponder and try to come up with thoughtful answers, which I am not always sure make the grade and help along, except when people do follow up and thank me. But it's worth the effort every time, I think.
This is one such email I got recently:
"Dear all,
I am a man fascinated with fragrances.
Ever since my brother, working at our small town perfume shop dressing up windows, brought home little bottles (called testers I found out much later) of fragrances. It was in the early 80s and I still remember that I was impressed with Cacharel's Yatagan{correction of editor: this comes from Caron} and Dior's Eau Savage {sic} .
My love affair with fragrances continued in a distance, until in the late 80s early 90s when I desired to have a bottle of CK's Obsession. We got it from Canada from a relative of my first love. I used it for some time; sometimes intoxicated by its power sometimes disturbed. Next there came the CK One again from Canada (!). That was a big bottle and we happily shared it with my second bigger love. I was happy with CK's freshness and cleanliness.
Then something powdery came in the market and it was a bit nostalgic of childhood smells around loveable old aunts... I bought my first fragrance... a set of Le Male. This must have been in 1994 or 1995. Years passed by with some Sander's Simple, some Kouros, even some Lanvin to discover 6 years ago, due to a new big love, the fragrance collection of Comme des Garcons. I chose my first CDG after asking their Paris flagstore to post me scented papers of Odeur 53 and 71. By that time I was already far away from my hometown. I chose 71 and accompanied it with Dry Clean by CDG. These were my fragrances for three years. Then there came 53. Now I am in my 2nd bottle of 53. Meanwhile this last summer I wore Eau de Lalique which I found to be quite impressive for an eau and look forward for a bottle more. I have been researching for the great dry citrus fragrance for a few months and that is how I came across Eau de Lalique. It took me 10 days to decide on it and I was happy I found it. In the meantime I tried CDG's Play on paper and my skin. It was disappointing. I received also a sample booklet of luxuriously put together perfumes by Serge Lutens; not my cup of tea I must admit as I am rather picky with my teas nowadays. I haven't tried the Guerlen' s {sic}Eau, with citrus. I am afraid that, that too is going to be too sweet.
My kindest regards.
A devoted fragrance lover.
Michail"
A couple of comments, first: I gather this was sent to more than one person, there are a couple of mistakes that might be attributed to a newcomer to fragrance lingo or not and there is no direct question. Also I am a little perplexed that the writer was not able to find Clavin Klein fragrances where he is, considering they were available in department stores, as far as I recall. But I reckon the question is the quest for the great dry citrus. Which is valid enough. Therefore dry citrus recs should follow.
Dear Michail, thank you for choosing Perfume Shrine to ask this question. I think you have dabbled in a cornucopia of perfumes that are not strictly confined to citrusy smells, so your tastes are really more varied than you might think. Congrats on the daring appreciation of Yatagan too; a scent that not many would brave. I really did laugh out on the Lutens comment, as those are very much revered and somehow your outlook on them came as a surprising and I might say unaffected, refreshing change. And yes, they are rather sweet perfumes to begin with, per general consensus, so it's all right.
Considering that citrus scents are so popular and varied, sourcing their top notes from various fruits that invariably have a different odour profile and therefore different sweetness level, I would venture to recommend a few that to my nose seem like what you are looking for. Orange and mandarin render sweeter notes than lemon or lime (such as in CKOne) and begamot is a more classic bittersweet note. Neroli has a more floral tonality as it is distilled from flowers, while petitgrain is another ingredient that might remind you of citrusy and lightly green notes. Therefore reading what the notes for each fragrance are might help you in your quest.
The Eau Imperiale de Guerlain you are referring to is not too sweet, if you are hesitant to try it. It is however very fleeting and that might disappoint you if you are accustomed to such tenacious and potent fragrances as those you mention. A good choice for a dry lemon with the background of cypress wood is the now classic Eau d'Hadrien by Annick Goutal. A smaller brand that you can however find where you are.
A tenacious and easier to procure citrus is O by Lancome, a scent that is marketed to women, but which has been borrowed by men since it launched in the late 1960s. The crushed lemon leaves of the beginning get anchored down by a little sandalwood, which lends a sensual touch to the more acerbic opening.
In that vein I would also recommend Eau Dynamissante from Clarins, a skincake brand that has produced this as their first aromatic foray, claiming aromatheurapeutic benefits from its use as well. It's bracing, cool and quite dry and would satisfy your summer needs admirably.
For a grapefuit fix may I suggest Citrus Paradisi by Czech and Speake. It's a clean and realistic smell with a little smokiness in the background. Also Vie de Chateau by Patricia de Nicolai is another bracing cologne, technically not just citrusy, but more green and woody, that you might enjoy nevertheless. Originally conceived for a prince (prince Sigalas) by de Nicolai who is related to the family Guerlain it is a classy composition that encompasses many acerbic notes allied to herbs and aromatic grasses that lend a distinguished dryness. Another unisex easily got scent is Un Jardin sur le Nil by Hermes, opening on what they say is green mango, yet I perceive as tart grapefruit. It segues to woody notes and a little whiff of incense. It might be a little less dry than Vie de Chateau though.
Another confident De Nicolai scent is New York which combines bergamot and Sicilain lemon with spice and some amber to produce a scent that is trully mellow and polished. Douro(formerly Lords) by Penhaligon's is a more powdery, sharp and soapy rendition of citrus notes on a woody, aromatic base and you might find it to your liking.
For the more obscure fragrances, please refer to this excellent and most reliable site (to which I am not affiliated, by the way): Aus Liebe Zum Duft/ First in Fragrance.
I hope you do get to find what you are looking for.
Regards, Perfume Shrine
Dear readers,if you have any more recommendations, please mention them in the comments section. Thanks!
Next week we review chypre fragrances of the enchanted kind!... Pics come from Luckyscent and Garden.co.uk
The time is ripe for me to present one of the better known niche brands with a unique concept that is not actually centered on an olfactory vision or a conceptual design, but instead on one of the most fascinating cities in the whole world: the Big Apple; New York and its exciting neighbourhoods, each one of them captured in a luxurious bottle reflecting its qualities and landmarks in aromas that entice.
Bond no.9 is the brainchild of Laurice Rahmé, a modern woman of firm business savvy, born in Paris, living in New York for the past 25 years and formerly known for her distribution of the prestigious Creed brand in the USA. Laurice began her career as an antiques dealer having studied art at the Louvre in Paris. But pretty soon she joined Lancôme-Paris as international training director, became the director of the Lancôme Institut de Beauté in 1976 and relocated to L’Oréal USA’s headquarters (formerly Cosmair) in New York City. In 1989, Rahmé became the partner of Annick Goutal’s operations in New York and contributed to the brand reaching cult status among the congnoscenti and sales that amounted to 90% of the brands worldwide business. Next, in 1995, Rahmé became the exclusive U.S. distributor for Creed and helped propel it into the conciousness of every discerning customer. When that became a thing of the past, she realised that her own vision was left to be realised ~according to Bond no.9 website :
In 2001, Rahmé was able to realize her dream of launching her own collection of fragrances named after different neighborhoods in New York City. The collection’s name, Bond No. 9, is derived from the actual address of the flagship store, which is located at 9 Bond St. The store features self-serve stations from which different scents can be sampled and poured into a selection of bottles from one of many freestanding, mannequin-shaped displays. “For me, the store is a continuation of the packaging,” says Rahmé. She now owns and operates a total of four stores in Manhattan.
The concept of the perfumes is "to restore artistry to perfumery and to mark every New York neighbourhood with a scent of its own": from uptown to midtown to downtown, every little speck is covered in the huge collection of 28 women's, men's and unisex eaux de parfum so far in bottles that usually capture the eye and create cravings for luxury. Of course the claim to restore artistry to perfumery can be pretty much attributed to every niche brand operating under the same principles and indeed that is one of the main reasons for choosing niche over more mainstream products. However the uniqueness of the locale concept is undisputed and always fun to peruse. Indeed she reached great critical acclaim when her offering Chinatown by young nez (that's french for nose, the perfumer behind this) Aurélien Guichard was highly praised by none other than Luca Turin in one of his articles for NZZ Folio. West Side seems a perennial favourite among perfume afficionados, while my personal favourite remains New Haarlem with its strong coffee notes that make me swoon like a good demitasse and I do enjoy wearing the blackcurrant laced light musk of Scent of Peace. But there's something for everyone in this line.
As Laurice revealed in an interview at Basenotes to Danielle Osbourne on October 26 2006:
“It is the Bond Street store that inspired me to create a brand out of our address, Bond No.9. Yet, it is the events of September 11 that motivated me to make New York smell good again and take on the ambitious project of creating a fragrance for each of its neighborhoods (this was done for Paris, my native city in the 20th century with a dozen fragrances made by a handful of companies created for Paris neighborhoods). Now, in the 21st century it is New York's turn to become the capital of fragrance.”
Myself I find that endearing and respect Laurice for saying this. Additionally a fresh approach and a desire to break the rules and molds of yesterday can be a positive thing after all.
"And where does the new Coney Island fall?" you might ask. I can tell you that it is a fun scent inspired by one of the most fun locales in New York City. Purpotedly containing notes of margarita mix (tequila included), melon, guava, cinnamon, chocolate, caramel, musk, vanilla, cedar and sandalwood, it is certainly citrusy in its character and radiates a fun, pool-side languor in tropical sharongs with a fiery bright hibiscus pinned behind one ear. The booze of the Margarita is very apparent to my nose, with slices of fresh lime and some salty element, adding fun and excitement and making this a great fragrance for a hot day spent at a fun and casual occassion. Just like Coney Island the locale stood for for the 1920s crowd who, aided by public transport, rushed to its shores to enjoy the beach and the fairs. The salty sweet combination has been explored by Elixir des Merveilles and L de Lempicka recently with great success but in those instances the overall orientalised tone veers the end fragrance in different avenues. The addition of fruit to the lasting citrus of Coney Island combines with a watery, acqueous element probably due to Calone (which is hinted at by the mention of melon) that manages to not make me shudder -taking my usual tastes into account- because of the slightly warm notes that evolve after a while to give roundness to the sharp start. The slightly spicy heart is evident if one waits a while, while the promisingly gourmand middle is not very pronounced, so people who have a sweet tooth looking forward to the candy floss and chocolate of fun fairs could become a little disappointed; however I do not think it was the brand's intention to construct a gourmand, sweet fragrance in the first place. This is a fragrance to evoke hot sand and drinks with little paper umpbrellas in them, none of the noir ambience that the real Coney island held at some point in Hollywood movies or contrarily the simplistic vanillic sweets of children sucking on lollipops. Today of course Coney Island is famous for its circus and mermaid parades which provide a unique sight replete with the shock value factor that New York City is famous for. A slight warm amberish and musky accord is melting the whole into a light base in which the announced notes of sandalwood or cedarwood are not particularly evident either, yet it reminds me of a cross between YSL In Love again and Aquasun by Lancaster. Which is a good thing for a summer scent that is meant to compliment and not overwhelm.
According to the Press release:
What is the smell of fun—and how do you bottle it? That was our mission at Bond No. 9 when we decided to capture the essence of Coney Island and turn it into an eau de parfum. Why Coney Island? We were intrigued by the vintage allure of this century-old fantasy-land with its honky-tonk chic, its Mermaid Parade, its incomparable hotdog haven (Nathan’s Famous) fronting the Atlantic Ocean along Brooklyn’s southernmost edge. But we wanted to celebrate its future, too, just as a formidable revival is getting under way.
Coney Island isn’t just any amusement park. In its early 20th century heyday, New York’s premier people’s playground was a rowdy, mind-numbing pleasure-mecca that more than matched the energies of the city that contained it. Its daredevil rides—the legendary nine-hill Cyclone roller coaster … the Wonder Wheel … the freefall Parachute Jump—set a fevered, frantic pace, while its bathing pavilions were more like phantasmagorical gilded palaces that shimmered in the air. Not to forget the raucous nightspots. For a city that where glancing at strangers for more than two seconds has always been an impertinence, here was an escape hatch—a Bacchanalia where one and all had free rein to scream together in terror and joy. Sure, in recent decades Coney Island fell into decline, but today it is decidedly on the upswing, with brand new rides, a water park, and a mammoth glass atrium in the works. Bond No 9’s Coney Island conjures up both the magical history and the reawakening of this beachfront paradise. Combined in this contemporary gourmand delight are the sugar-cool notes of margarita mix, hypnotically seductive chocolate and caramel, plus cedarwood. The high-voltage blue bottle recalls the Coney Island’s expanse of sea and sky, while the contrasting gold neck evokes the thousands of electric lights that once lit up its night sky.
The turquoise bottle is fetching in its bright shade garlanded by a ribbon of gold as if to represent little blub lights of fun fairs, although not as covetable as the bottle of Chinatown in all its Swarovski glory.
The new fragrance will officially launch on June 1st, but the stores take pre-orders by mid-May. It is sold at all four Bond No. 9 stores, at selected branches of Saks Fifth Avenue, and at Harvey Nichols, Harrods, Paris Gallery, Lane Crawford. Besides being available in its 3.4 oz. artist-designed superstar bottle and box presentation ($180), 1.7oz travel size ($125), Coney Island may be purchased by the ounce ($40), either in a 2-ounce basic spray flacon with gilt honeycomb cap ($25) or in unique vintage or art bottles, featured in a wide variety of designs ($60 - $200). Bond no.9 perfumes can be ordered online at the official Bond site and at First in Fragrance/Aus liebe zum duft in Europe.
Top pic from Coney Island photoshoot on April 21 2007 by Mike on photomeetup.com Pic of bottle comes from the advertising campaign of Bond no.9
Eau de Cologne from Chanel is just what the doctor prescribed for those lazy, hot summer days when you don't have the mental energy to think straight and pick a scent that won't clash with the humidity and the heat.
And it is now as good a time as any to dispel the myths around this type of scent named Eau de Cologne. Usually it is what men in the United States say they use. This is actually a tradition that has to do with avoiding the unpleasant connotations of the term Eau de toilette and not an accurate rendition of what they put exactly on their skin. Too many times you will hear men saying that and in fact what they use is Eau de toilette. The notion of why this is so undelicate a concept to grasp dawned on me after a discussion on the correct etiquette on asking to use a toilet in someone's house. I had been told that it's customary to say "bathroom" even if you're not going to actually bathe in there. Suffice to say that this particular delicasy of phrase has escaped my more sturdy european ears and we do use the term toilet aplenty. However faire la toilette is also the french term for preening and in that regard Eau de toilette fits in really well, as it is part of the ritual (hence the name of course).
Another type of mix up happens because Eau de Cologne is not just a concentration of a scent at the counter of any fragrance line, but also a special type of scent recipe, harking back to 1370 and the first alcoholic perfumed mix prepared for the Queen Elizabeth of Hungary. This got named Hungary Water and is still around today. However it took it a couple of centuries more, to become the Eau de Cologne that became famous in 1792 under the name 4711 Echt Kolnisch Wasser, after the homonymous town in Germany (Koln/Cologne) where it was produced. The house that produced it is called Muelhens (although now 4711 is owned by Wella), the name comes from the original address of the Muelhens shop and they claimed they got the recipe from a Carthusian monk nammed Farina who gave this as a wedding gift to William Muelhens. Its first name was "aqua mirabilis" (water of miracles) due to its stimulating, antibacterial properties that warded off disease and acted as a tonic. A different story attribues the origins to Farmaceutica di Santa Maria Novella in Florence (which was founded in 1612) where the monks manufactured the Aqua della Regina (water of the queen), made for Catherine de Medici who upon coming to Paris inaugurated the tradition of perfumery to the french capital. There suppossedly the recipe was copied by Paul Feminis and the vogue for eaux de cologne flourished well into the coming years. [You can read the history of Eau de Cologne on this link. ]
The classic recipe of Eau de Cologne includes bright citrusy notes of bergamot, petitgrain (the essence from the stems of the bitter orange tree) along with neroli and some fruit rind's expressed oil (such as lemon or orange), garlanded with herbs such as lavender and rosemary, the odd floral note (rose for instance, as is the case in 4711) and a light underpinning of a more sturdy base note that would anchor the scent so it doesn't evaporate into thin air too soon.
In Chanel's case the given notes for its new Eau de Cologneare: neroli, bergamot, citrus, musk, vetiver.
Indeed as one sprays the succulent juice on the skin a burst of bright, sunny, slightly bitter citrus fruits explodes and envelops the wearer in a sunny vignette of times gone by. Like people dressed in striped maillots preparing for a swim in a cosmopolitan beach, eau de cologne always brings to my mind a memory of lazy languid summer days of yore when parents and granparents started for the beach with panache and straightforward style. Think those classic Breton matelots and you're there. Soon the whole sweetens and obtains a rounder neroli and musky ambience that is supported by a light yet sensual backdrop. It does not last too long alas, which is of course the nature of such fleeting things, like a quick dip in the refreshing blue waters, but it does provide so much enjoyment while it does. The gigantic 400ml bottle is prefectly made for lavishing this on with reckless abandon.
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My thoughts revert to the Roman emperor as I contemplate a Greek proverb denoting the quick passage of time, one which involves the month to which he gave his name: "From August winter and from March summer". Although the former I can assure you is not climatically sound for this part of the world (winter doesn't really hint at its arrival till the middle of November!), the latter part is certainly true. As sping-like and summery thoughts have been crossing my mind these sunny days when the temperatures are often reaching 18-20 Celsius and bergamot and citrus fruits have occupied these pages, I remember a scent named August which I ironically discovered in the heart of winter.
If my own bottle is any indication, you can see I have almost exhausted it... August is so deliriously happy and optimistic it would be excellent with matching body products to complete the vitamin-infused experience. I think Erik should definitely think about introducing them!
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