Parfums MDCI Ambre TopKapi: fragrance review

More of a straight fresh masculine than a languid unisex, more of an hesperidic-rich mock-amber than the stupendous orientalia of the brick & mortar of the real TopKapi palace, Ambre TopKapi, the first masculine fragrance by niche perfumery Parfums MDCI is a puzzling case of onomatopoeia.The fragrance "sounds" like an expletive in a foreign language.

Perfumer Pierre Bourdon is at least as famous as Ernest Beaux for super-dosaging an ingredient with a very distinctive odour profile in a best-selling fragrance: For Beaux it was the chain of aliphatic aldehydes in Chanel No.5, for Bourdon it was dihydromyrcenol in Cool Water. It seems like Bourdon has made a habit of this: Ambre TopKapi, although classified as a woody-spicy, is suffused with the cool citrusy aluminum blade that is dihydromyrcenol; boosting the freshness of the citrus notes (which veer more into pineapple fruitiness than the classic Eau de Cologne bergamot ambience of old) and incising the spiciness of its heart (cinnamon, cardamom, nutmeg, ginger, basil, lavender and thyme, all essences with a bracing, stimulating quality). The fresh feel is one that resembles part shampoo remnants, part chlorine-mopped counters, part woody cologne for men and it's this atmosphere that characterises the duration of the fragrance on skin; oscillating between dusty cool and sweetish, never really giving a straight-shooting answer.

Not much warmth or languor is to be met in the drydown and it's interesting to see that the fragrance doesn't really last as I expected, despite the presence of heavyweights listed in the official notes (musk, vanilla, sandalwood, oakmoss). The problem with Ambre TopKapi coming out in 2003 out of a niche line is that in a market full with clones of Cool Water it ends up smelling generic, even though it's masterfully blended and retains the same coherent character from start to finish.

Notes for MCDI Ambre Topkapi:
Bergamot, grapefruit, pineapple, melon, cinnamon, cardamom, nutmeg, ginger, basil, thyme, lavender, oak moss, vetiver, sandalwood, rosewood, leather, Darjeeling tea, amber, musk, vanilla, jasmine and violet.

Ambre TopKapi retails for 250$ for 60ml and the price can rise to 610$ for the bust edition (same fragrance, same size, with a Roman bust on the cap made of Limoges porcelain)

Related reading on PerfumeShrine: Parfums MDCI Peche Cardinal, Masculine fragrance reviews

Le Labo Aldehyde 44: fragrance review

The aliphatic aldehydes string of Chanel No.5 is what is termed "aldehydic" in perfumery parlance and characterises a whole sub-group within the floral fragrance family: C10, C11, C12 aldehydes to be exact, creating an accord so memorable it has pervaded fragrance mores for decades. [If you don't know what aldehydes are, refer to this article]. Le Labo's take in Aldehyde 44 is more inspired by the sweeter, soapier, more snowy-capped mountains seen flying above in lesser known (and more American-geared) Godzilla-aldehydic Chanel No.22 and equally American "sharp clean" White Linen by Estee Lauder than muskier-sexier-dirtier (aka Frenchier) No.5 however. Perhaps the fact that it's a Dallas,TX city-exclusive (only Dallas inhabitants and visitors of the city's Le Labo boutique at Barneys can partake of the sprakling waters!) is not totally random as imagined.This is a clean, rested, posh fragrance; depilated, smoothed and hosed and full of energy, not languor.

The opening in the Le Labo fragrance is so old-fashioned elegant and prim in its sharp biting "sparkle", with its citrusy-waxy fat top note, you will be doing a double take to see whether you have been magically transported back to 1955 and wearing a whale-boned petticoat under your skirt. But the perfume is modern, in more ways than one.
The progression is seamless and sustainaibly sour aldehydic into a somewhat metallic musky floralcy in the base, without either too much sweetness or woodiness (The idea of musk at Le Labo can be perversely illusionary anyway, as attested in Musc 25. Perfumer Yann Vasnier is using ambrettolide here in Aldehyde 44, which is a macrocyclic musk, very refined, soapy smelling-fruity in character).
What is characteristic is there is no powderiness in Aldehyde 44, as associated with other retro fragrances that utilize irones and ionones (iris and violets) to denote cosmetic products and old-school face powder. Instead it's citrusy waxy-soapy-fatty, it makes me think it's what an hypothetical child between Ivoire by Balmain and White Linen would be like: the green sudsy oiliness of the former meets the fatty sweetness of the latter, the rosy facets taking on a peppery bite with lots of buds' green, a hint of pear fruit in there too.

If you read that Aldehyde 44 contains woods and vanilla and imagine a comforting scent, you will are in for a nasty surprise: the woods only come from the C12 aldehyde (a pollen-rooty, lilac scent) and the silvery refracting amber synthetic; while the citrusy touches are reminiscent of bitterish, tangy orange rind (which has a resinous quality, not unlike some incense blends) and not marmelade. The floral notes cannot be taken apart, it's an abstract blend where no note rises above the rest. Aldehyde 44 possesses "sweetness" of another kind altogether and it can only be compared to that encountered in No.22 (especially in its less incense-y modern incarnation as part of Les Exclusifs in Eau de toilette) or the classic Lauder referenced above. The sillage is civilized, but definitely there, and the lasting power very good. Lovers of the elegant polished genre, rejoice, this is a well-crafted example; perhaps not totally necessitating the ouchy price-tag nevertheless.

The offficial Le Labo presentation states: "Aldehyde 44 is a small wonder that sits tight between an aldehyde overdose, that gives this scent a unique cleanliness to it, a sublime floral composition that is built around Naracissus, Jasmin, and Tuberose (all Absolute in case you wandered), and a bed of muscs tied with a hint of vanilla. The result is esthetically admirable and unique".

Aldehyde 44 by Le Labo features fragrance notes of: aldehydes, tuberose absolute, jasmine sambac, narcissus absolute, woods, vanilla and musk.

Le Labo Aldehyde 44 is a Dallas, TX city-exclusive, retailing at $290 for 50ml, but only for the month of November it is globally available at Luckyscent and on the official Le Labo site.

Related reading on Perfume Shrine:  Le Labo reviews & news , Aldehydes: what they are, how do they smell, where do they shine, Aldehydic fragrances

photo of Cyd Charisse

Yves Saint Laurent Saharienne: fragrance review

If damning with faint praise is the modus operandi of the considerate critic, then I could say that the feminine fragrance Saharienne by Yves Saint Laurent is an inoffensive summer scent for days when you're bored to think of perfuming yourself. That wouldn't be right, though. Saharienne evokes so much fashion mythology with its name that expectations would naturally soar. Unfortunately, for a house with such clout in its history and at least two controversial scents in its archives (Opium and M7), plus many beautiful ones (YSL Paris, In Love Again, Rive Gauche, Y), Saharienne underwhelms.

A fresh "nothing" for summer that, while not unpleasant by any means, falls short of the stature of a true Saint Laurent fragrance. The promised "exotic journey in the wilderness" is just a stroll down the perfumery hall of an anonymous department store in Peoria.

When Saint Yves, fashion's true saint, introduced the saharienne "safari jacket" in the 1968, he envisioned a garment that would recall the best of colonial imperialism, in terms of stylishness that is, without succumbing to the demeaning elements herein.

The sharp, belted, pocketed jacket was compact and practical, but with an air of savagery as well, as though the wearer could brave sandstorms that would obscure the skies in torpedos of seemingly red particles attacking one's every cranial cavity.
The beloved garment of the white colonialist (Yves was of Algerian descent after all) looked ever so sexy on the leggy Veruschka (the aristocrat model Veruschka von Lehndorff, pictured here); cinched waist and  tight laces over bronzed breasts that were unencumbered by bridling bras. Saint Laurent's fashions made women look powerful, yet feminine! The Saharienne jacket (or the safari jacket) was no exception to that rule. Apart from a fashion milestone (no designer has been immune to its charms in the following 40 years), it also signaled a feminist one:
"By 1970, with the acceptance of trouser suits, the Western woman's silhouette accommodated bifurcation for the first time. Yves Saint Laurent, a designer extremely sensitive to social trends, responded to the May student uprisings in 1968 by creating a line of women's tailored trouser suits. Based on the "African" theme, he created a "Safari" suit for his spring/summer 1968 collection, transforming the functional hunting outfit into townwear for women". [source: The Metropolitan Museum of Art ]

The muted bergamot "cologne" idea (taking a sharp, astringent, tangy flavour and blunting its edge with loads of Iso-E Super in modern perfumery speak) is not remarkably original; not does it serve any purpose as a stand-alone-trick beyond the blah. It's shampoo writ large. Nothing wrong with this, coming from a brand like Clean or Bath & Body Works, but there is some disappointment in the notion pervading Yves Saint Laurent. I detect no significant spice, just a flou idea of woodiness and "clean" musky backdrop.
If you're looking for a sparkling woody-faceted bergamot with great lasting power for that refreshing, insouciant grace of summer wear, when you don't want to look like you're trying too hard, grab Terre d'Hermes instead.

Notes for Saharienne by Yves Saint Laurent:
Top: lemon, Italian bergamot and mandarin
Heart: white flower petals, orange leaf, galbanum, black currant bud.
Base: pink pepper, ginger.

L'Artisan Parfumeur Mandarine: fragrance review

Mandarine by L'Artisan Parfumeur began its "career" under a different guise: a limited edition bottle for summer 2006 under the name Mandarine Tout Simplement (i.e. Simply Mandarin), along with the regular line launch of Fou d'Absinthe, based on absinth. Mandarine is recently re-issued in the regular bottles of L'Artisan, in 50ml/1.7oz size, so it's fitting to give it a review.

Extremely true to the mandarin fruit, succulent and fresh and tart, Mandarine by L'Artisan Parfumeur is really as if you have piched your nails on the rind of a ripe mandarin, juice dribbling down your fingers, the tartness almost spritzing you in the eye. Then it fans out into a little indeterminable wood accord, of which cedar seems to be the main note. It's pretty simple and unadorned by weighty accents.
The succulent, lightly peachy-bubblegum note that you might detect after a while is due to frangipani. Nevertheless, this is not at all a floral perfume by any means, nor a floral fruity either. It stays resolutely within the realm of fruity woody. As soon as one sprays Mandarine one is transported to a sunny place, with a bowl of fruits on the porch and a summery frock on. Sunglasses optional : this is a friendly , not aloof scent at all. Rather sweet, but the tartness keeps it from being cloying.

Perfumer Olivia Giacobetti is known for her unusual watery creations that are far from the "marine" type of frags so typical of the 90s (witness the watery ambience in Navegar or her Preparation Parfumee for Andree Putman) and her beloved dough/yeast note (as in the cucumber-watery lilacs of En passant ), but here I can detect none. That's a good thing to me personally, because sometimes they ruin the perfume for me.
Mandarine makes you go "ahhhhh" at first sniff , but then it disappears suddenly. I have no trouble with most L'artisan fragrances and their staying power (I regularly wear Premier Figuier, Timbuktu,Oeillet Sauvage without problems to give you an idea), but of course citrus and hesperidic notes are volatile to begin with, hence the swift evaporation. For those who complain about short-lived staying power, that might be a concern. Now that it comes in a 50ml bottle, it would be a "killer" to have in your bag and spray away at the first opportunity.

More info on availability &shopping on the L'Artisan site.

Which is YOUR preferred fruity fragrance for summer? 

Painting of Mandarins via Sadie e Valeri blog

Estee Lauder Bronze Goddess Soleil: fragrance review & comparison

Estée Lauder never ceases to capitalize on tried & tested concepts and Bronze Goddess (the revamp of Tom Ford's formula for Azurée Soleil) was among the very best: a truly beachy scent that imitated skin baked under the sun. Bronze Goddess Soleil for summer 2011 however despite the similar name is a quite different fragrance and although the concept is a good one (refreshing splashing on and sunny cheeriness), I admit I was spoilt by the past into expecting something more than a simple lemon and light musks cologne.

The line is confusing enough since the company is re-issuing last year's Bronze Goddess for the summer at the same time that they're launching the new Bronze Goddess Soleil. [To see a comparison between the original Azurée Soleil and Bronze Goddess formulae read this article]. Last year's Bronze Goddess Eau Fraiche formula has a bright citrus quickly mollified by tropical tiare and milky coconut. It's the definition of a "skin scent", a vision of biscuit-hued flesh sprawled under tropical skies sunning itself at some beach where the sand is as fine as spun sugar and there's not a care in the world. It quickly became a cult favourite and deservedly so.

On the other hand, Bronze Goddess Soleil is more of a simplistic light and tart hesperidic scent, a boost of lemon freshness upfront (rather unlike the sweet cupcake note of Shalimar Light) prolonged via the easy solution of clean white musk and dewy notes. The bitterish accents of lavender and petit-grain are indeed a very distinct throwback to the classic Eau de Cologne "recipe", from 4711 to Jean Marie Farrina's.
Even though the idea is not bad, Lauder already had a cute citrus cologne with clean musks and blond woods in their line-up, Pure White Linen Light Breeze (a flanker to a flanker, imagine that!) which served as that "can't bother to think about fragrance" pick-me-up for days when the monsoon-like canopy of humidity seems inescapable. To provide another lemony lean cologne is a bit of a redundancy and the main reason I'm rather underwhelmed from this year's Bronze Goddess Soleil. Contrary to the established Bronze Goddess, it lacks both warmth and sexiness. It also lacks the classic coconut & vanilla sun tan lotion note (i.e.Coppertone in this case), which might make it preferable for those who have an aversion to that note in their summery splashes.
Still, not badly made, but my own buck is put elsewhere this summer...


Notes for Estee Lauder Bronze Goddess Soleil:
Top: Sicilian lemon, Calabrian bergamot, sweet tangerine, lavender and petit grain.
Heart: Mediterranean pittosporum, Tunisian neroli, Indian Sambac jasmine, Moroccan orange blossom, grapefruit blossom and pink lily nectar.
Base: blonde woods, iris, ambrette seed and crystalline musk.

The bottle of Bronze Goddess Soleil features a greener degradé on the base and the cap exhibits matte gold rings, to differentiate it from the other versions (well, apart from that soleil in the name of course). The concentration is marked as Eau Fraiche (it lasted about three hours on my skin, after eight hours I was vaguely sniffing a light muskiness) in 100ml/2.4oz. Available at Lauder counters while stocks last.

A.Tauer Carillon pour un Ange: fragrance review

The newest fragrance by Andy Tauer, Carillon pour un Ange, takes its inspiration from a material that is often described as angelic, lily of the valley. Hence the working name during the creation process was Gabriel. Actually, truth be told, lily of the valley (or muguet as the French call it) is not exactly chastity material as a recent study revealed. Still, the piercingly sweet, very clear and green aroma creates the impression of puerile innocence, of tender cheeks and pouty small mouths.
A carillon on the other hand is a musical instrument composed of at least 23 cup-shaped bells played from a baton keyboard using fists and feet, its sound chiming with piercing clarity, much like the aroma of lily of the valley pierces the air with its declaration of spring's final assertion. So carillon pour un ange, a carillon for an angel... The seraphic allusion is certainly not lost, the fragrance is quite lovely.

The greeness in Carillon pour un Ange is delightfully tinted with the darker, oilier hint of hyacinth as was the case in a former Tauer scent, Hyacinth and a Mechanic. Even though the latter was an experimental batch, serving an SOS purpose on its bottle-message across the world (more details here), it featured at least two of the elements which infiltrated themselves in Carillon: the green hyacinth and the leathery note. In Carillon the leather is very subdued. Instead one almost loses the lily of the valley field for the hesperides grove at some point. Tauer has fetish materials which he uses over and over to great effect: I seem to feel his mandarin peel materialise again and again; it's such a great lifting note that it makes for immediately inviting openings, often coupled with rose as in Une Rose Chyprée, or Incense Rosé. (click for reviews of both)

The challenge with lily of the valley is twofold: One the one hand, it's so easy to lapse into the "salle de bains" hygienic note or the Aisle of Glade (as March puts it), due to its ubiquitness in functional products via several synthetic replications (natural extraction is not cost-effective or yielding enough). Andy Tauer is using a combination of IFF's Lyral and Lilial for his own creation, bypassing the problem of sharpness by the injection of a sweet note reminiscent of violets and lilacs (pink jasmine might be actually creating the lilac impression, the two share a bubble-gummy nectarous headiness).
One the other hand, there is the sacred Diorissimo, an über alles classic if there ever was one; impossible to surpass and one would be wise to not even try. Then again, now that Diorissimo is not recognizing itself in the mirror all too clearly these days due to multiple surgical interventions, one might reconsider. Still, the cleverness lies not in trying to create a limp-wristed or sharp rendition of lily of the valley, nor a pastoral gouache, but to boldly propose a third path: that which marries the white bell with other flowers and which contrasts it with elements to which it is naturally emerging from: the decaying leaves being eaten up by fungi, the woods where it grows, the green tapiserrie on which it sprouts its minuscule bell-shaped blossoms. Thus the base of Carillon pour un Ange takes on woody and skin-soft nuances, mossy, non dirty really (it would be paradoxical, after all), with the shades of love, death and rebirth winking to a theatre full of children watching mesmerised a play of magical marionettes.

Polish composer Zbigniew Preisner says "For me there exists only one music -good music"...and "I compose what is close to my heart". Substitute music with perfumery and you've got Tauer to a T.



Notes for Andy Tauer Carillon pour un Ange: Top: rose, ylang ylang, lilac
Heart: lily of the valley, jasmine, leather
Base: ambergris, moss, woods.

Carillon pour un Ange is available as Eau de Parfum Riche (which lasts very well) in small hand-poured 15ml bottles directly from Tauer Perfumes or on Luckyscent. Samples are available here. We're hosting a giveaway for two full bottles, comment to enter.

Painting Sleep lost in Dreams by James C.Christensen via morgenthruston
In the interests of full disclosure I sampled the perfume through the generosity of the perfumer himself; his is well documented.

Hermes Eau d'Hermes: fragrance review

The official site introduces Eau d'Hermès as "For me. For you. His and hers" and if an androgynous sensibility is already simpatico to you, the special Eau has the potential to surprise in other ways. Notoriously refered to as "that stinky Hermès" among perfume aficionados, this cologne has had a somewhat dimmed profile for many years, ever since its introduction in 1951 by renowned perfumer Edmond Roudnitska and still to this day enjoys a rather underground cult status.



The ~originally proficient in saddlery and leather goods~ luxury house has some of the most interesting Eaux around anyway, with the latest Eau de Pamplemousse Rose and Eau de Gentiane Blanche having me rave recently for their unassuming spontaneity and unassuming intellectualism, with the ultra-popular Eau de Merveilles with its saline note of ambergris and the mouthwatering Eau d'Orange Verte rounding out the edges. But the original Eau from 1951 is still a small marvel because it manages to recalibrate the Eau formula (a traditional recipe of herbs and hesperidia) into a dazzling kaleidoscope combining frank animal notes, spices, and the illusion of tobacco, a mirage that’s at once textured, elegant and "skanky". In some ways there is a bond with the famous fougère by Guerlain, Jicky: The proper lavender touch, the unabashed sexiness of civet, the contrast of old money and an almost cubist outlook. Only the sequence in Eau d'Hermès is in reverse ~first the objectionable part, then the sumptuous, dignified drydown! There is also kinship with some of the older lovely masculines in the line-up: Équipage and Bel Ami, which I also like very much.

Frankly I don't get much of the "dirty" vibe for which Eau d'Hermès is referenced myself, meaning it doesn't smell either really sweaty (rich though it is in cumin, the usual culprit as per received wisdom) or diaper-like/fecal (copious amounts of civet tend to do that). I get a finely tuned citrus-leather violin and piano duet with some white flowers peeking underneath discreetly. This might have to do with either my skank-eating skin or my seriously wrapped-up perception of what "dirty" really is (Apparently my threshold is rather raised in comparison to the average WASP sensibility, I've been told.) My money is on the second hypothesis, at any rate, and most Roudnitska creations with their improper parts always peeking through the layers seem to perform well. But as usual, try before you buy, because perception is everything when it comes to perfume appreciation and what's fine with me might be unbearable bathroom ambience to you. And cumino-phobiacs*, please beware!

The first bottle of Eau d'Hermès in my life was a gift from an artist friend who has a high brow in art issues and a low brow in matters of everyday commodities; which even now befundles me as to which end of the intellectual and aesthetic spectrum predominated when the choice for this gift was made! Eau d'Hermès is perfectly legible as a composition that doesn't trumpet its credentials in your face (there are luxury ingredients in it, but they never show off the bill, if you know what I mean), it nevertheless has some unusual streak which reminds me of another friend, a writer who hails from an old family tracing roots in the Byzantine Empire, and who likes to wear little hats cocked off-kilter and combine odd socks with her evening outfits. Bottom line, it conjures images of non-prim respectability, like an old, faded aristocrat who has the pissoir jugs displayed alongside the family china.

Notes for Eau d'Hermes: citrus, cumin, birchwood, moss, cedar, sandalwood, vanilla

Please take care not to confuse Eau d'Hermès with the semi-oriental Parfum d'Hermès from 1984 (in the round disk bottle) which is a completely different fragrance. The newest version rerworked by in-house perfumer Jean Claude Ellena is a bit more refined, a little more brainy and airy than the vintage, but still fantastically marvellous and arresting in the most incospicuous way. It is sold in all Hermes boutiques at an Eau de Toilette concentration, just ask for it.

Three different commemorative limited editions of Eau d'Hermès have circulated over the years, highly collectible and beautiful to look at. One is from 1993, depicted above, showing a rider upon a horse. Another is from 1994 with an etched Pegasus on the bottle depicted on the left, the other depicting the sun-carriage of Phaethon also etched on the crystal from 2001 depicted on the right. They're both available on Ebay right now for ridiculous amounts of money (A lesson for us all to stock up on rare limited editions instead of bonds, I guess).




















*Some of the other cumin/sweat-infested fragrances include: Kingdom (McQueen), L'Autre (Diptyque), Santal Blanc , Fleurs d'Oranger, Muscs Kublai Khan (Lutens), Declaration (Cartier), Timbuktu (L'Artisan), Gucci Eau de Parfum, Black Tourmaline (Olivier Dubrano), Rochas Femme (1984 reissue).

Paintings by the Spanish artist Juan Gris with music by Barry Mitchell performed by the Locrian Ensemble

Ormonde Jayne Tiare: fragrance review

Radiant, yet weightless, Tiare radiates the sharp, bright light one notices reflected on sunny days in the northern extremities of the Northern Hemisphere rather than the tropical beaches evoked by the name (coming as it does from the national emblem of Tahiti). Possessing an arresting optimistic streak of intense hesperidic notes ~lime and mandarin~ along with shimmering, diamond-like florals in the heart, the composition of Tiare projects with an unexpected verdancy and a scintillating aldehydic shimmer akin to sipping champagne on ice. In its way a discombobulating fragrance, but all in the best possible sense!

With the citrus touches, the (unmentioned) lily of the valley sweetly-piercing floralcy, and the delightful white florals (green jasmine and a subtle budding gardenia/tiare note) underpinned by a mossy-woody base I feel I ought to be out hopping along in a brightly reddish-coloured tartan skirt, getting the kind of frivolous and topsy-turvy fun we see in 50s and 60s black & white photographs that requires a cunningly naughty (gay?) male friend, a well-decked bank account and a big dollop of sentir bien dans sa peau. The amazing thing about Ormonde Jayne's Tiare is that it manages to give that feeling even if you do not possess any of the above, instantly putting you in the brightest mood as if the world is your personal buffet and you're choosing your hors d'oeuvres with gusto!

Linda Pilkington, the founder and creator of Ormonde Jayne, has used Tiare Absolute from Tahiti (extracted in Tahiti, refined in the US and furthermore in France before it reaches the OJ studio in London). The process is labour-intensive: the Tiare flower is hand picked whilst still unopened and laid in oil for 15 days to extract the fragrance. “From the moment I first encountered Tiare, the search was on to find the purest oil extraction. Tiare is a flower that doesn’t give up its secrets easily and it took many different incarnations, finding a subtle progression from citrus to flower, before I felt that we had an exceptional perfume.[...] Like the woman who wears Tiare, this is a perfume that totally ignores seasons and the time of day, a perfume so artfully blended and infinitely refined... but with a dash of scintillating appeal".

While talking with Linda, among other fascinating stuff, she had intimated that in her youth she had been an enthusiastic perfume wearer who mixed Diorella and Eau Sauvage. With such illustrious specimens as amulets, it's not hard to see how the best elements of both have sneaked their way into her latest creation. The initial impression of Ormonda Jayne Tiare is similar to the one I get when spraying Cristalle by Chanel, the folding of mossiness and cool grass into hesperidia. The kinship is more pronounced with Cristalle's Eau de Parfum concentration, in which the floral heart shimmers underneath the sharper elements, lending creaminess and descreet sensuality. In Tiare the gardenia, ylang-ylang and jasmin take the role that in the former was reserved for honeysuckle, imparting a mild sweetness that never becomes too much. Another example of the delicious champagne-bubbles-feel I am getting would have been Miller Harris Fleur du Matin and lovers of either scent are strongly urged to sample Tiare. You can thank me later...The lasting power is beyond amazing, which is usual with Ormonde Jayne scents (if you notice they tend to leave a tad oily film on the skin which proves just how generously rich they are in pure essence).

What is most impressive however is that despite Cristalle's pedigree it can often come across as bookish-secretary-in-a-sterile-office which limites its romance-wearing after-hours potential, but somehow, someway Ormonde Jayne managed to bypass that and combine both worlds: the intellectual and the sensual, the upbeat and the romantic; in a word, I'm hooked and my dithyrambic isn't at all misplaced! Tiare could be panseasonal, easing its way from the coolest of winter to the humid days of summer. In fact I long to wear it on the brightest snowiest morning when all the world looks like a tabula rasa for my writing, under the silent blanket of white...

My credit card trembles with fear at the prospect of having fallen hard for its charms. So should yours!

Notes for Ormonde Jayne Tiare:
Top: Mandarin, Orange Flower and Sicilian Lime
Heart: Tiare, Freesia, Water Lilies, Jasmine, Orris and Ylang Ylang
Base: Cedar, Vetiver, Sandalwood, Patchouli, Moss and Musk

Prices: £68 for Eau de Parfum 50 ml spray bottle and £ 180 for pure Parfum (50 ml with stopper). Available from The Royal Arcade, 28 Old Bond Street , London W1S 4SL and Ormonde Jayne at Boutique 1 Jumeirah Beach , Dubai as well as online at Ormonde Jayne (worldwide shipping) from November 19th.

Related reading on Perfume Shrine: Ormonde Jayne news & reviews.

Photo of model Suzy Parker and Robin Tattersall in Scottish tartan wear by Richard Avedon via schukina/photobucket. Art photography by John Ralwings for Vogue (March 1943) via vsnrydrmr.com. In the interests of disclosure I was sent a sample vial from the manufacturer.

Rochas Moustache: fragrance review & history

Smooth-cheeked chaps have been the norm for more than half a century now and facial hair on men in the western world is considered either intello-boho or "tough guy, three day stubble, get in line missy!" But once upon a time when men fought in the Great War or assimilated la toilette in -perhaps less excruciatingly soignée- the manner of Hercules Poirot and his own profuse moustaches, facial hair stood for distinction. Moustache by Rochas is a scent that could make you grow such a virtual moustache if you belong to the modern clique of smoothly-cheeked guys and actually feel proud enough to admit wearing such a funnily named perfume.

The house of Marcel Rochas issued Moustache in 1948, as one of the select few fragrant specimens bearing the handiwork of that elusive (but talented) personality Thérèse Roudnitska, the wife of trismegistus Edmond (who also had his skillful hand in this) and the muse to her husband's Le Parfum de Thérèse (now in the Frederic Malle line). Thérèse, a student of l’Ecole de Chimie in Paris (she gratuated in 1941) apprenticied at the De Laire company at the laboratories of which she met her future husband. A romance blossomed, peppered with scented gifts: Edmond presented her with his eloquent composition It's You which he had composed for Elizabeth Arden. After romantic courtship they found Art et Parfum, a society dedicated to the art of perfumery in 1946. At the time Edmond Roudnitska was working with Rochas, having cemented both their fragrant notoriety with Femme, a masterpiece conceived in the most perilous and ravaged of occassions, Paris being occupied by the Nazis (1944) and right when Edmond had his hands in more prosaic tasks, such as finding a sufficient butter-taste substitute. According to his son, Michel Roudnitska (who gives the date of issue of Moustache as 1948, while some guides claim 1949 as the launch) "Moustache foreshadows Roudnitska's philosophy of creation - clear, simple and restrained". I couldn't have said it more succinctly.

Perfume history wants Thérèse to have instigated the spermatic idea and Edmond to have followed. At any rate the end result pleased him so much that he was put on record considering it a benchmark in masculine scents [Edmond Roudnitska, Que sais-je? "Le Parfum", Paris: Presses Universitaires de France, 6th edition (2000)]. Roudnitska continued to produce scents for Rochas: Mouselline (formely Chiffon), Mouche (which means fly in French and was playfully named after the couple's cat), and La Rose; a collection of which sadly only Femme and Moustache subsist today.

The academic interest in Moustache is that it takes all the elements that have formed the repertoire of Roudnitska (the fermented fruits, like his beloved peach-scented base Persicol with aldehydes C14 and C18; the urinous aroma of animalic notes that recalls horses' sweat; the mossy yet fresh coolness in the background) and rearranges them in a masculine composition that pre-empties his work for both Dior (Eau Sauvage, Diorella, Dior-Dior) and Hermès (Eau d'Hermès). The aesthetic interest is that it smells old-fashioned in the best possible sense, distinguished in its unique use of lime on top (perhaps the best rendition of that note) and yet not like an antique that gets dusted once in a blue moon tucked inside the curios cabinet the rest of the time.
After the citrusy opening, the characteristic faintly floral and hay-ish powdery heart slowly gives way to the funk of the base notes with their sweaty, urinous and pungent leather impression which lingers quietly, intimately for a long time. Despite it being ,marketed as a masculine scent, women who find citrusy or "hazy" suede compositions to their taste should definitely give it a try.

Notes for Rochas Moustache: Lime, bergamot, pine, fruits, vetiver, moss.

The flacon of Moustache was initially produced in the curvaceous shape of Femme but was later substituted with the classic columnal bottle of Rochas fragrances with the brand name embossed on top the gold cap. A very recent redesigning made it square-shouldered in chrome tones.
The modern re-issue of Moustache is a bit more sharply citric to suit modern preferences for more refreshing top notes and less urinous, more polite, but it remains at its core an old-fashioned and proper scent that was well ahead of its time and still relevant after all those years. The older version circulates for reasonable prices on etailers.
You can get Moustache at Fragrancenet.com for the amazing price of $32.49 for 3.4oz. Also, using code LBRDY09 at checkout you get a further $10 off orders of $70 or more (on any products), valid through 09.11.09.

Pic of Moustache bottle by Rochas by Elena Vosnaki, of Therese Roudnitska via Michel Roudnitska's tribute Art-et-Parfum, vintage ad via trungtamnuochoa.com, modern flacon via fragrancefactory.com

Jo Malone Vanilla & Anise: fragrance review

In contemplating the newest Jo Malone fragrance, Vanilla & Anise, one reverts to an overview of the brand, originally founded by one resourceful English woman and now owned by the gigantic Lauder group.

One of the ~superficial, you might judge~ attractions of the Jo Malone brand for me personally has always been that delicious waffle-toned packaging with the black, scented tissue paper and the matching ribbon-tied rectangular boxes: pure class and understated luxury at the drop of (the exactly right) panama hat. No big logos on the carrier bag, no glaring exhibits of glitz. The stacked-up bottles in the boutiques (like the one I had visited in London) make for the deeply satisfying feeling one gets when they manage to uniformly bind a collection of books in personally initialized leather: arguably my own library needs some work towards that end, as only a fraction has received that treatment yet, but I live in hope! Still Jo Malone's library of fragrances presents the same expectations: classy exteriors with contents to be savouringly explored.

The line has so far presented a division of sorts in its pleiad of offerings: there are the Jane Austens, full of sunlight, social banter and light character studies (French Lime Blossom, Lime Basil and Mandarin, Jasmine & Honeysuckle); and there are the Dostoyevsky-wannabes (Pomegranate Noir, 154, Wild Fig & Cassis, Nutmeg & Ginger). Unfortunately sometimes the latter resemble The Gambler, a dare of the Russian master to write up a novella in a month while simultaneously immersed in his famous masterpiece: they take place in Roulettenberg! Vanilla & Anise is placed someplace between the two: its intentions and onoma allude to the latter while the scent itself to the former.

Vanilla as a note seems to be experiencing a revival in niche and upscale brands with the innovative and ultra-luxurious Vanille Galante by Hermès {review link}, along with the newest Havana Vanille by L'Artisan {info here}, a reworking on their vanilla notion, many years after the candy-cotton ethylmaltol innovation of their ice-cream cone hologram Vanilia. I am saying a revival in the niche and upscale brands specifically, because the mainstream sector never abandonded their romantic notions of vanilla being an aphrodisiac; a snowballing concept to be brought to its rightful source: Guerlain and their great classics. The rewoking of vanilla in modern creations is a fresh approach of cleverly interwoven cool and warm facets, resembling changeant fabrics and eschewing the simplistic ice-cream flavourings that have occupied the lower end of the market for more than a decade now.

Per Jo Malone Vanilla & Anise is intended to “transport you to the floral valleys of Madagascar the moment that vanilla orchids bloom at day-break” since regardless of the fact that the vanilla orchid originated in Mexico, it is Madagascar which is today’s largest producer of vanilla. Curiously enough the scent isn't dominated by either vanilla or (star) anise, no matter the gourmand allusions these two might insinuate by their culinary proclivities. The surprise hiding under one of Malone's most successful creations, Lime Basil and Mandarin, has always been the peeking of an unexpected edginess under the greeting familiarity and this element has sneaked its way in Vanilla & Anise as well. In this case it is the bittersweet effect of the oleander note (and perhaps coumarinic accents) alongside the intense citrus touches (bergamot, neroli) clearly discernible, giving a decidedly summer feeling of vacationing at a resort someplace warm. If Hermès hadn't already issued the magnificent Vanille Galante one season ago with its predominatly lily-esque petal softness, I would have been marvelling at the new approach and applauding the delicate, meringue treatment rendered here, all crispy exteriors and airy insides. Nevertheless, given the fact that they already have in a most successful way artistically, I am less impressed the second time around.
Still, Vanilla & Anise should please those hankering after a luminous, air-spun lightly sweet fragrance with discreet floral touches, especially if they nostalgise about summery pleasures in the heart of winter. Those who prefer their vanillas folded into Dr.Oetker baking mixes or alternatively those who want them smokey-eyed and showing some hint of tushie beneath black see-through should go look for something else.

Notes for Jo Malone Vanilla & Anise:
Top Notes: Sicilian Bergamot, Tunisian Neroli, Wild Fennel Flower, Star Anise
Middle Notes: Oleander, Tuberose, Frangipani, Purple Vanilla Orchid
Base Notes: Madagascar Clove, White Amber, Vetiver Bourbon, Vanilla Bourbon Absolute, Tonka.

International launch for Vanilla & Anise is expected in September, but the scent has already reached Nordstorm, the 100ml costs £64, 30ml is £32. Visit the official Jo Malone site here.

Related reading on Perfume Shrine: Anise, wormwood and absinthe series

Painting by Colette Calascione via formfiftyfive.com

Divine Eau Divine: exclusive fragrance preview & review

Smelling the newest Divine creation on my wrists, the unisex Murano-like in its translucence Eau Divine, puts me in the mood for the upcoming vacations which can't come soon enough as far as I am concerned. The niche house of Divine was founded in the elegant Edwardian resort of Dinard, on the north coast of Brittany, France, by perfumer Yvon Mouchel: imagine a brand that issues whatever they want, whenever they want, without following a marketing plan nor frantically paced releases one after the other, all sold in a tiny shop off the beaten track! The essence of niche. Slowly but surely word of mouth made his first creation, Divine by Divine, a mini-cult that had discerning women worldwide searching for it and ordering directly from them. But what made parfums Divine so sought after, aside from the ~well...~divine name? It's hard to put into words: There is an old Hollywood glamour, entrancing and at the same time a little decadent, emanating from them ~ these are potent, old-school perfume-y fragrances with often a characteristic aldehydic thread spun through them which would have both Norma Desmond pleased and Daisy from The Great Gatsby feel at ease. This dichotomy is at the heart of Divine creations: dark yet piquant, airy or deep, sexy and contemporaneously refined, they fuse contrasting elements into a delicate pirouette that no matter how hard to perform, it appears seamless.

Eau Divine is the 9th instalment in this tale but it effortlessly breaks loose into more casual arpeggios, without betraying the tune. "Crystalline, the first notes emerge : from the top, Eau Divine combines the green coolness of Italian citrus with the sparkle of spices: star anise, rose hip, ginger and nutmeg. The heart of the pyramid is more tender. Orange flower and sweet violet prolong the pure energy of the first moments for a while but then delicately induce the subtle opening of deep notes. White amber, hot musk and labdanum only then reveal their lingering and generous sensuality".
I always felt that the word of Jean Claude Ellena, "generous" while describing the cologne style prevalent in the Mediterranean countries, is superbly fitting to evoke the giving, pleasurable nature of this genre: There is a feeling of sentir bien dans sa peau (feeling good in one's skin) which such compositions instantly bring out, making me envision holidays at some seaside resort at Saint-Jean-Cap-Ferrat, white terry robes and turban-style towel on hair, diva sunglasses on minus the "bling", while eating a hearty breakfast with freshly squeezed citrus juice and grated ginger served on lots of ice, lounging by the pool where fetching cabana boys are furtively assisting in their tight Speedos. Yet there is a cerebral element about it all too (a little incensy depth and the coolness of violet leaves plus an aldehydic overlay), like London-based detective-fiction writer Samantha Morton (played by the divine Charlotte Rampling in Ozon's Swimming Pool) overcoming her writer's block at her editor's retreat at Southern France; or people-watching gorgeous triad Alain Delon, Romy Schneider and Jane Birkin torn between love and crime in La Piscine (1969).
Surprisingly for this kind of fragrance the lasting power of Eau Divine is excellent: put on in the evening after my bath, there were still remnants on my skin by the next morning!

Prices start at 50 euros for 30ml up to 145 euros for 200ml in various styles: splash, spray or refillable spray. There is also a different presentation for men or women despite the unisex character of the juice itself.
The Divine line includes 4 fragrances for women: the original Divine by Divine (floral animalic with a peachy heart and vintage feel), L'être Aimé Femme (aldehydic floral with a core of immortelle), L'inspiratrice (dark rose with patchouli), L'infante (green sweet white floral), L'âme soeur (aldehydic floral, powdery); and 3 fragrances for men: L'Homme de Coeur (aromatic woody with iris), L'être Aimé Homme (an ode to immortelle, aromatic herbs and exotic woods) and L'Homme Sage (spicy woody with saffron). Eau Divine is their first offering intended for both men and women.

Apart from their Dinard original boutique (and another two in Saint Malo and Caen, France) there is also one in Paris: DIVINE 3 rue Scribe 75009 Paris+33 1 40 06 03 14. Parfums Divine are now sold in London, Berlin, Hamburg, Munich, Roma, Warsaw, New York, Los Angeles and Vancouver. You can see details at their official site or order directly (they ship worldwide)
For our readers I have 5 Eau Divine samples to give away to try it out. Leave a comment stating your interest.



In the interests of full disclosure, I was sent the samples by parfums Divine
Charlotte Rampling pic via us.movies1.yumg.com. Clip of La Pascine (1969)originally uploaded by 1985nicole on Youtube.

Miss Dior Cherie L'Eau by Christian Dior: fragrance review

It's not often that I am caught completely off-guard and totally surprised by something. Usually my instincts and my (hard-paid for) experience guide me through most eventualities with assured steps. Yet the latest Miss Dior Chérie L'Eau managed to make me do a 180 degree turn! Not because it is a masterpiece. Far from it. But because I was fully prepared to absolutely hate it, just because I have been alienated by the sugary, patchouli, fruity spin of Miss Dior Chérie, a scent that is completely different than the classic chypre Miss Dior from 1947 (Dior's first scent) of which you can read a review here. The shared name makes one think hard on how much travesty one can stomach.

Furthermore, the developments at Christian Dior for some years now have been quite unsettling as the whole image has been cheapened and ultimately vulgarised. Not to mention that the very latest observations I made regarding reformulations afoot to all their classics, from Diorissimo and Diorella onwards ~signaled by cunningly new-old looking packaging only~ has left a bitter taste in my mouth... So a testing at Sephora just because it was the latest thing provided a rather pleasant jolt out of the doldrums of contemplating on "what Dior had been"...
According to its creator François Demachy, "Miss Dior Chérie L'Eau is not a complicated fragrance". Imagine a freshly scrubbed young lass, put a headband on her bouffant long hair, a mock pout with no depths of murky sexuality à la Catholic girls and you're basically got your sanitized BB.9
(ie. Bardot version 2009) ~a product of bourgeois paternalism and market satiation! Yet, didn't Bardot herself began her career posing for bourgeois magazines and studying ballent under Boris Knyazev?

Demachy has been instrumental in the creation of Aqua di Parma Colonia Assoluta, the re-issue of Pucci Vivara, Fendi Palazzo and a pleiad of scents for parfums Christian Dior (he almost seems like in-house perfumer at this rate, which I m not sure how to interpret!): the newest Dior Escale à Pontichery which we recently reviewed, as well as last summer's Escale à Portofino, Farenheit 32, the masculine Eau Sauvage Fraicheur Cuir and Dior Homme Sport, the Dior numbered Passages special collection of scents Collection Particuliere, Midnight Poison, Dior J'adore L'absolu...

Vogue.co.uk describes Miss Dior Chérie L'Eau as "a sparkling and distinctive floral scent blended with notes of tangy yet spicy bitter orange, Gardenia and white musks that aims to sum up the certain 'je ne sais quoi' of the ultimate French girl. Pretty in every detail - down to the bottle's iconic bow - this lighter, François Demachy-designed adaptation of the original perfectly fits a long-standing perfume brief from Christian Dior himself, "Faites-moi un parfum qui sente l'amour" (make me a fragrance which smells of love)."

I don't think Miss Dior Cherie L'Eau quite captures all that (especially the amour part), but it's not typical of the myriads of fruity florals on the market: First of all, the scent is decidedly floral for a change, but with a certain modern translucence and a lightl dewy feeling that makes for a refreshing take on green florals. The direction is "muguet"/lily of the valley "clean" (the lucky charm of Christian Dior himself) but done via a green, budding gardenia accord; which might be replicated by jasmolactones, if the eerie feeling of familiarity with Pur Desir de Gardenia by Yves Rocher is anything to go by, although the Rocher one is much more gardenia-oriented than this one. A small facet of the pleasantly bitter citrusy touches of Escale à Portofino and Mugler Cologne is also hiding in there with a very soft powdery drydown, fluffy like an air-spun macaroon with green filling and a little laundry-day feel. The girl wearing the John Galliano dress in the shade of candies, model Maryna Linchuk shot by Tim Walker, is perky, and innocently upbeat in a 60s kind-of-way (hold the orgasmic cries of the original Bardot song that accompanies the commercials shot by Sofia Coppola,; this one is a pouting Bardot seen through unknowing ten-year-old eyes!). The blotter beckons me from the depths of my old, ivory LV Monogram Vernis handbag: should I give it one more chance?

Notes for Miss Dior Chérie L'Eau:
bitter orange, gardenia accord, white musks

Miss Dior Chérie L'Eau has just launched widely, in amounts of 50 and 100 ml (1.7 and 3.4 oz) for 59€ and 85€ respectively.
If you have a few moments to kill, the Dior website for the fragrance is fun!

The rather confusing Miss Dior Chérie line comprises so far:
Miss Dior Chérie Eau de Parfum 2005,
Miss Dior Chérie Eau de Toilette 2007,
Miss Dior Chérie Eau de Printemps 2008(limited edition),
Miss Dior Chérie Blooming Bouquet2008(exclusive aimed at the Asian market),
Miss Dior Cherie L'Eau 2009.

Last but not least: For those of you who might as well get a dose of the old standby classic gardenia chypre of Miss Dior, there are some bottles over at Fragrancenet.com as well as the standard Miss Dior Chérie. Using code SHRINE saves you a further 10%!(offer good throughout May).


Related reading on Perfumeshrine: the Dior series

Pics via punmiris.com and imachildofthemoon.blogspot.com

A Taste of Bergamot

While travelling on scented adventures across the globe I distinctly recall the uplifting properties that a rind of bergamot tucked in my pocket for difficult moments imparted on my nausated self. A brief whiff of its aromatherapeutic properties was my lucky charm to aliviate the stress of traveling and make me focus. It was only much later I learned that it was the traveller of travellers, Christopher Columbus, who first brought the tree to the Caribbean, where it was popularly used in voodoo rituals to protect against misfortune and that it's still used in in hoodoo rootwork, to control or command individuals!

Antonio Familiari, an 80-year-old former school teacher who tends bergamot groves off Calabria's coast in Italy is definite on the subject:"The bergamot is an intelligent creature. Its arrival in Calabria is shrouded in mystery, and even though it grows elsewhere, only in this area does it give us the essential oil", while his nails claw on a bergamot releasing the little stream of droplets that posses a soft orange undertone under the lemon sharpness. Ezio Pizzi, a 62-year-old former lawyer who returned to his family's bergamot plot after his father died a decade ago is equally enthralled by the fruit: "When I think about the possibilities for bergamot fruit, I get goosebumps." On the outskirts of Reggio di Calabria, Francesco Crispo, director of the state-founded Consortium of Bergamot Growers, has a plan for a 1,500-square metre, seven million-euro institute of perfumery.
But apart from the established role of bergamot in perfumery, is there some way of utilizing this heavenly scent into something that combines the aromatherapeutic with the gluttony? As in food and drink?

The stimulating and pleasantly refined aroma of bergamot has always been a companion in my black tea, in the form of beloved Earl Grey, possibly the best-known incarnation for most people. Its distinctive flavour and aroma derives from the addition of oil extracted from the rind of the bergamot orange; the name on the other hand derives from the 2nd Earl of Grey, British Prime Minister (1830-1834) and author of the Reform Bill of 1832, who reputedly received the aromatized tea and the recipe as a diplomatic gift by a Chinese nobleman who thus thanked him for saving his life. History proves otherwise, but that shouldn't deter you from enjoying a full cup nevertheless! Twinings, one of the loose leaves black tea brands I buy out of tradition, still has the emblem of the Earl on their nostalgic, metallic canisters. Their newest addition Lady Grey is a little pale for my tastes, but you might like it. Fortnum & Mason has a superior Earl Grey blend in their loose leaves tins and is a purchase that won't break the bank. Clearly the many drinkers of Earl Grey have been enjoying this rich, elegant richness above all else and one of the loveliest blends you can try is Adagio Earl Grey Bravo (or Aristocrate), while I also like the balanced approach of Upton Teas Earl Grey Ceylon Select. Perhaps the best novel idea I can give you is to actually ice the tea and drink it for refreshment in the summer: much more invigorating and satisfying than plain black tea with lemon!

Yet bergamot has other uses in flavourful incarnations, even though the fruit is inedible, prompting the owner of this small garden on Zante island to proclaim on this funny placard on his midget trees "they're bergamots, not lemons", to deter poachers from cutting off the fruit to use in their kitchen.

One of the loveliest and easiest ideas is to aromatize a white liquor with the washed, peeled rind. Just peel the fruit, remove the white underside, cut in small rolls and press them inside the neck of a bottle of alcholic drink. Leave them be for a couple of weeks and you will see. The idea is not drastically creative, as Triple Sec has been using citrus essences on a base of brandy distillation to act as a digestif for decades. But it's good to expand. The idea works well with Italian Grappa as well as Vino Greco and I have personally used it with good results in light white rum and local ρακί/raki. The resulting potion can be used in cocktails, imparting a delicately bitter fruity flavour.

The most traditional and devilishly tempting proposition of them all however is the Greek Bergamot spoonful treat: a single spoonful of candied fruit dessert that is served on very small crystal plates and chased down with an icy cold glass of water. The flavour is so concentrated and intense that you won't need another one. And although it's so full of sugar it has no fat whatsoever, rending it a very healthy dessert. You can buy them ready-made, but they're breezily easy to make, so here is a handed-down recipe.

Recipe for Bergamot Spoonful Sweet
You will need:

7 fresh bergamots
white sugar, as much in weight as the bergamots
water
juice of 1 lemon
1 and 1/2 cup of water for the final boil
juice of 1/2 lemon for the final boil
toothpicks
clean, boiled jar with tight-fitting lid

1. Wash the bergamots, wipe and using a kitchen scrub pad scrub until outer becomes bright yellow.
2. Cut a little off the top and the bottom and score with a sharp knife into three or four parts. With the tip of the knife, remove the skin and throw away the inner part. Remove as much white pith from the bergamot peels as possible, because it's very bitter.
3.Pick the rolls of rind and roll them securing them with the toothpicks. Place them in a large saucepan and cover them in water.
4. Bring to boiling point for 2 – 3 minutes. Remove the water and substitute with fresh. Repeath Step 4 for 3-4 times. This can be done on consecutive days or on the same day to remove some of the bitterness. The more diaphanous the water becomes, the less bitter it has got.
5.On the last boiling procedure empty hot water, add fresh cold water and the juice of 1 lemon. Put them again to boil for 10 minutes. Remove from stove and leave until the water cools. Drain them and put them on the pot again.
6.Now add the sugar and the water. Leave them for half an hour and then boil. Lower heat to medium for 15 minutes. Remove from heat and leave for a while.
Bring the bergamots again to a boil, simmer for about an hour, or until the liquid becomes clear and thick (You'll know it's ready when it forms "set" droplets that leave the spoon reluctantly when dropped). Finally add the other lemon juice, stir and leave to cool completely.
7. Place the fruit in clean jars with a lid, close tightly and place them upside down for a couple of minutes. You can keep them in a cupboard for a year.


Related reading on PerfumeShrine: the Bergamot Series, Aromatic Cuisine (scented escapades in the kitchen)

Photos copyright by PerfumeShrine and via Gayot.com

The Strange Case of Dr.Oakmoss and Mr.Citrus (part 2)

We talked about the latest restrictions and how oakmoss is one complicated issue and tried to disentangle it a bit in Part 1. But there are more resticted ingredients, whose pros and cons we hope to analyse here. Yet revelations happen with the sudden “swoosh” of pyrotechnics.

The very perceptive Pat from Olfactarama sent me this most eye-opening comment:

“I poked around a little and came up with the RIFM's [Research Institute for Fragrance Materials] annual report. You may already have seen this document, but if not, there is a lot of interesting info here. I'm wondering if this organization isn't one of the ways the labs are funneling research funding into these studies, which may then be used to strongarm the fragrance industry. Since annual reports must be available to the public, it's possible to bypass the "members only" logjam at the site's opening -- I believe some of the publications papers are also available for reading. The list near the back gives RIFM's "partners," and most of the big fragrance manufacturers (Chanel, Estee Lauder, et. al.) are on it. Here is the link: RIFM.Org

I urge you to click the link (it's NOT the well known IFRA amendement, it's a different organisation) and read the participating members on the last page; blink a little and read again!

Chanel….The one company who profited by the downfall of Guerlain to the eyes of many perfume enthusiasts. The one company who salvaged their reputation through the hardships of having to appeal to mainsteam tastes and all with easy elegance. Now, there is proof that they do not oppose the restrictions which are set to harm them most: the jasmine restrictions (as well as the coumarin, ylang ylang, eugenol, oakmoss et al). Octavian had succintcly put it:

“Remember that not only the perfume extract contains a great amount of French jasmine but also this is at the heart of all marketing stories of Chanel. Chanel always insisted on the quality of its jasmine, being one of the very few to use the French type, also cultivated by Chanel” and from a marketing point of view, how can you communicate about jasmine now? Can you show the fields, the extraction and write articles about No5 history and quality when IFRA tells that "jasminum grandiflorum" is "poison"?

It’s a problem. The continuation of the myth will necessarily have to be a covert lie.

However Chanel in either an attempt to salvage what they can (how? I’d advise the Wertheimer brothers to make a statement to that) or to retain their market share without increasing prices are condoning the reformulations. I do know that they are rigorous in preserving quality and just as there are different grades of foodstuff so there are in perfumery ingredients, so they will use the best available. But still the question is: what will there be available?

And Lauder is also a member of RIFM. This makes the futile hope of people in the US that American made perfumes might retain their formula unchanged just that…futile. It was plainly to see before, since Lauder fragrances are made by IFF (who belongs to IFRA), but since not all people know that tidbit, it’s worth mentioning now.

On what concerns citrus restrictions, the kerfuffle is too much for no special reason in most cases. Many people exclaim –justifiably-: “Ridiculous! I get more orange essence on my hands by peeling an orange or on my mouth by eating it than by using perfume!”. True, but there’s a catch: Most citruses in perfumes are synthetic already! Yes, yes, even those you think are naturals. Yes, yes, even some very respected brands (Shalimar anyone? Mitsouko?) . And you know, the difference isn't that perceptible to the majority of even discerning noses and bergamot in particular has been substituted for years due to its photosensitizing begaptene. Which is why I witnessed the groves in Sicily and Calabria being a waning craft...
Yet some citrus essences can be realistically replicated. Want proof? Go smell In Love Again by Yves Saint Laurent. Great realistic grapefruit note, huh? 100% synthetic. But that doesn't diminish the artistry of it, nor should it deter you from using it.

Of course there are several niche and small perfumers (notably the all-naturals field) who continue to use natural extracts and they'e taking a hard blow with the latest; this might make them outlaw indeed! Anya McCoy said:

"There are few willing to take a stance on this. I will. I will continue to use all of the aromatics I wish, with a warning label. If, as it seems it will, the regulations come to the USA, and the FDA enforces them, I will protest and am willing to become a legal case, if necessary. I dare others to join me. That is my solution to the oakmoss, orange, rose, ylang ylang (ad infinitum materials) problem."

Of course that means solely Internet sales... No brand which hopes to have their scents in brick and mortar stores can afford this, since they are subject to import laws (from either the EU or the US).

Brands which use a high degree of natural extracts, citrus and otherwise, such as Annick Goutal, Miller Harris, and Ormonde Jayne are facing a very real problem, hitting them like a ton of bricks. Their buying of raw materials will be seriously challenged thanks to the tale-over of the Grasse companies of raw materials (as discussed here) and due to their drastic change in the formula they will have a hard time adjusting to the changes. You might stock up on those as well. In fact a MUA poster, Alabasterkitten, has noticed a bunch of them at Loehmann's last night, $50 for 1.7 oz - Songes (jasmine, ylang ylang), Mandragore (bergamot), Eau de Hadrien (lemon and citruses, oakmoss), Petite Cherie (pear synth), Gardenia Passion (oakmoss, jasmine) and Nuits d'Hadrien (citrus)!

As to other ingredients, there are many but there are ways around them without much compromise. Verbena has been singled out in online discussions, because it's a common aromatherapeutic infusion and oil and it created the question how it could be regarded as a "bad" thing. Well, litsea cubeba has a bracing lemony note that could sufficiently substitute it and in fact it extends the effect nicely into the middle notes, a trick often used by pefumers to extend tangy aspects. So, no problem there.

Hydroxycitronellal (lily of the valley) is on the chopping block, as is majantol. Obviously lily of the valley will suffer as a note, not mentioning Lilial (by Givaudan) and Lyral (by IFF), which have also been examined regarding their sensitizing properties. Lily of the valley is a more common note than one would suspect, because it both opens up the bouquet of classic perfumes and it imparts a collateral “clean” note to modern ones (perhaps due to its mega presence in functional cleaning products). Diorissimo has already changed it packaging to denote the change that has been implemented to the levels of hydroxycitronnelal: the newer white packaging with pink “oval” bearing the name states hydroxycitronellal further behind other ingredients instead of the slightly older batch of pink packaging with white oval. The change is subtle and very cunning: while right now the packaging can be an indicator of batches, the introduction of a different colour schema is an optical blurring, ready for further –and final- chopping off! The consumer will never be able to realise without minutely examining the allergens list, which -let’s face it- is not what most people do.

Ylang Ylang is that rare thing: a comparatively inexpensive natural. Which poses a question over its impending restrictions. Baffled there.

The most serious aspect however and I don't know how it can be bypassed is jasmine....
Jasmine grandiflorum will be limited to 0.7% and jasmine sambac to 4%, under the latest 43rd amendement of IFRA. They are potent, so even a little helps, but 0.7% is getting pretty low...Jasmine is the emblem of quality French perfumery, a whole mythos behind many famous classics (No.5, Joy etc.) as stated so passionately on Grain de Musc and sadly both the grandiflorum and the sambac variety come under the latest restictions. And since Grasse jasmine was used in only the extrait of those classics, if you absolutely love those, you might stock up. Although don't be fooled, they have already been altered numerous times. No.5 has been stated to have changed its musks (eradicating the nitromusks so maligned by environmental studies) but smelling olde batches confirms that it’s not only them that changed. Since P&G (who belong to the RIFM oganisation, as stated in the above PDF) are the licence owners for parfums Patou, Joy is also to be changed irrevocably, probably to the great chagrin of resident perfumer Jean Michel Duriez.

The matter is terribly complicated, but....Plus ça change, plus c’est la même chose!

Pic of Dr.Jekyl and Mr.Hyde cover via sbfmedia.relationalhost.com. Diorissimo through photobucket search. Jasmine by Perfumeshrine, all rights reserved.