Chanel No.19 Poudre: fragrance review

~by guest writer AlbertCAN

Of all the people in the world I would have never guessed that I would be one of the first to write a full review about Chanel No. 19 Poudré, one of the two latest introductions from the fabled house. In fact even if the spirit of Coco Chanel told me this morning I would not have believed it, for all signs pointed to an uneventful day.

Yet life has a way of stringing the impossible, isn’t it? I had to take a photo with my personal belongings otherwise nobody, including myself, would have thought of it.

August 4th was my day off, the unorthodox result of my manager’s scheduling so I could work Monday to Saturday. This Thursday was meant to be routine—errands in the morning, fitness workout in the afternoon, early retirement by night in preparation of the early shift tomorrow.

Except I found out in the evening that I had to cast my ballot an important provincial tax referendum by tonight else I would have missed the opportunity altogether, with the nearest voting station at a local mall about 15 minute drive from my house. Nothing chic has been discovered in that toy plaza since the arrival of Givenchy Amarige d’Amour, as I uttered to myself when I pulled out of my driveway.

The voting station was everything I loath, being a stone throw away from Walmart and the Hello Kitty concession stand, right next to the mall’s washroom. By the time I drop off my vote, after being asked to triple seal my ballot with three distinct envelopes I was just ready to leave. But then I remembered that one of my fragrances was about to run out, and not wanting to waste too much of my time I marshalled myself to The Hudson’s Bay Company, our historic—albeit slightly paunchy and tired by now—national department store monument. Move along, I said to myself, just get on with it.

The fragrance section of the HBC on a Thursday evening was nothing to behold: Sales staff three people strong, all manning multiple stations and sounding a bit inexperienced when interacting with other clients. With my look of death they left me alone after 10 seconds.

That’s when I bumped into a big display stand of Chanel No. 19 Poudré.

I did a double take and quickly scanned the store’s Chanel inventory. Not a bottle of No. 19 in sight, and only the display of the new edition available: 2 bottles of 100mL Chanel No. 19 Poudré eau de parfum. The most seasoned Chanel reps, even account managers, couldn’t tell me weeks ago when their supplies of Chanel No. 19 Poudré would come to the Vancouver flagship store. Now I was face to face with two bottles in the local mall, with associates not even knowing a thing about it. (“I think it’s a limited edition*,” the poor lady said as she carefully surveyed the shelves, “Two is all we have.” *editor's note: Chanel No. 19 Poudré is inteded as a regular diffusion to the original line and not as a limited edition)

I quickly grabbed the tester and gave it a test run. Now, having read all the information from Perfume Shrine (here and here) I knew what to expect: Beautiful orris absolute, soft and buttery sheer. Much more delicate than the original, and with the icy zing of galbanum now in tender check. I’ll take one, as I quickly pulled out my credit card. I walked out of the store a happy man. The story, however, had just begun.

While my initial impression of the scent stays true on the blotter--for up to three days I find-- on the skin is a slightly different story. About 10 minutes after the initial testing the orris absolute, so prominently featured in Chanel’s Les Exclusifs line (most notably 28 La Pausa and No. 18) started to soft focus: the delicate floral initially pinning in the background started came to fore, and on my way home one thing was becoming very clear—the orris absolute gave way to a suede musk, bolstered by a synthetic iris, which was what I got for the rest of the three hours. It’s still going softly but surely, actually.

Now I would be inclined to say that the musk element feels like a natural progression from Chance Eau Tendre, but to be honest the woody-musk drydown is very much a thoughtful rendition of the original No. 19 elements, most notably the pronounced woods within the eau de toilette version without the oakmoss presence. In fact that’s the ironic arch about the structure of the new fragrance: I had the eau de toilette of the original and the new one side by side on each arm and they are essentially the same breed. The biggest difference among the two would be the green and the floral facets—in No. 19 Poudré the rose and jasmine absolutes are decidedly not present, and neither was galbanum taking a cut in the new version. What makes the original so interesting (and so difficult to sink into at first try) is that hit-your-face-like-ice-blade freshness only the finest galbanum from Iran could do (anything less would conjure a hint of garlic from the inferior grade). The new version, in short, feels almost like a summery of the old in a more updated language, albeit a bit hollowed out in the centre to usher in an iris-musk sillage.

Thus am I disappointed? Far from it: I know this is going to surely reach a new generation and an entirely novel set of audience, most notably the American and the Asian audiances. In fact the entire artistic creation is right on the money, from the bottle to the juice. Even the image, albeit a bit on the forgettable side, is well integrated into the target image.

The original No. 19, to begin, is truly one of the priciest formula in the original Chanel archive, with the finished compound costing around 1800 Euros (the exactly figure from Chandler Burr’s A Perfect Scent eludes me at the moment). Yet it continues to be a tough sell in the States with its cashmere opening and independent development. When looking at the formula, most notably the original eau de toilette, one notices the genius of Henri Robert by pairing the warmth with the cold, the sunny cis-3-hexanol salicylate and hedione with the severity of iris, the crisp neroli with the sensual woody chypre. Carefully beaded verdant crystals on top of premium silver penne velvet, breath-taking but not for everyone. So if the new edition could help breaking people into the masterpiece, well, why not? Yes and no.

I don’t question the Chanel perfumers’ desire to stay true to the spirit of Coco Chanel, and I don’t question the quality of iris at the beginning of the fragrance (I have several commercial orris blends in stock, and after smelling them along side the latest Chanel it was pretty obvious that some synthetics, most notably the tea-like alpha-isomethyl ionone, is paired with the orris absolute). Yet I wish the sillage could be a bit more varied and nuanced, a bit more imagination on top of modernizing the tradition: Wouldn't it breath-taking to dazzle us, Monsieur Jacques Polge, by pairing galbanum with a beautiful green element not available at Coco Chanel's time, such as the Michelia alba leaves extract? (Come to think of it: Why not? Wouldn't the high priestess of innovation appove when it's brilliantly done? ) And the white floral facet: well, pretty—I can feel the lily of the valley hovering in the background with the use of hydroxycitronnellal—but all this makes me yearn for the original so much more. So we have anther version of No. 19 that’s not for everyone, this time in a different context.

On the other hand the new No. 19 is quite versatile, not only accommodating for different events but also as a layering base for the original parfum in order to amplify the iris in an interesting way. And as I have alluded to earlier in this article, the verdant fragrance can potentially be used as a masculine for some dandies. In fact I look forward to pairing this with a few drops of my 15mL parfum (which works surprisingly well as a masculine, by the way). By the same token, on the other hand, best to test the fragrance before purchasing a full bottle, as unlike the traditional No. 19 line what's on the blotter may or may not be what you get on your skin, as the case to me.

Chanel No. 19 Poudré is a green floral and was developed by Chanel house perfumer Jacques Polge: The notes of Chanel No. 19 Poudré include neroli, galbanum, jasmine, iris, white musk, vetiver and tonka bean. I sampled the 100mL Eau de Parfum tester, both on paper and on skin. I purchased a bottle, although I haven’t opened it yet. It’s out in the market, although at the moment availability varies depending on geographical regions.

photo of bottle in box, copyright by AlbertCAN

Cartier Baiser Vole: fragrance review

“There is no lily oil or lily absolute,” says perfumer Mathilde Laurent, who wanted to introduce a floral scent in Cartier’s fragrance collection, a propos Baiser Volé, the jewellery brand's latest feminine fragrance launch. The name means "Stolen Kiss" reminiscing such romantic images as Fragonard's painting or Truffaut's film. “But I didn’t want it to be the 1,001st floral floriental, and I didn’t want to add a new floral composition.” Instead, Laurent likened wearing Baiser Volé to having on a necklace of lilies!

In Baiser Volé, in-house Cartier perfumer Mathilde Laurent explores the nature of lily three-ways (the leaves, the petals and the pistil) in a fresh powdery floral context and ends up with a surreal lily that isn't really about flowers, nor does it smell particularly spot-on "floral", but about the flowery nature of woman herself: opening up, "blooming", receiving, being at once pure and a little bit disorienting.

Laurent began by asking what smell men found enticing in a womanly way, to which the (fit to print, at least) prominent reply seemed to be "the lily". Colour me sceptical; isn't lily a symbol for purity and the need for cleansing? Maybe men are really leaning more onto the Madonna rather than the whore juxtaposition? Maybe they're asking them from a pre-arranged multiple-choice sheet?
At any rate, thus equiped, Laurent embarked on her 2-year long quest into fitting this stunning flower into a composition that would light up the room just lilies they do, without it being cliché, or surupy sweet, or headache-inducing cloying. If you are looking for the most realistic lily scent recreation, you might stop reading right now or read our article on Lily scent and lily flower types in perfumery; Baiser Volé doesn't even aim at that. But if you like fresh powdery scents, you might want to at least sample; it's very likeable.

The vegetal quality of the fragrance presents itself in an odd game of salicylates, solar notes which boom on the skin, a balance of bitter and sweet with a hint of citrus: The treatment, air-spun, meringue-like, delicate, is not unlike the one that perfumer Jean Claude Ellena reserved for the lightening up of vanilla through ylang ylang & lily notes in his fluffy Vanille Galante for the Hermessences. The vanilla and musks laced drydown in Baiser Volé recalls the sweetness of Un Lys by Serge Lutens, but the context is less poetic, more powdery, in a cosmetic-power-infused, slightly bittersweet way with a small subfacet of spice ~only minimal, a tad clovey; and a hint of violet ionones. It's safe to deduce that Baiser Volé transposes these niche sensibilities, pure, unadulterated exploration of perfumery raw materials's facets, in sleight-of-hand executions, into the mainstream. Compared with other lily fragrances, Baiser Volé stands alone and lacks the gaiac smokiness of real lilies which is reported to give them their "ham" brine-y facet. Cartier's interpretation is nowhere near the dense, ambery tinged radiant ambience of Donna Karan's Gold. Or the faux chypre structure of Ineke's Gilded Lily. Or the spicy corolla of Lily & Spice by Penhaligon's. And whereas Lys Mediterranée is a raspy, roughened salty-savoury lily that appeals to a certain Med sensibility with its hoarsey voice, while remaining irresolutely lily-like, Baiser Volé is smoother, more pliable, less floral, more traditionally womanly in its vanillic powdery kiss, and oddly at once old-fashioned and "clean".

On the other hand, and this is really interesting, Laurent takes no prisoners into embracing the latest trend of reinventing powdery florals for a generation that was afraid of anything powdery signifying "old lady perfume": From Esprit d'Oscar to Love,Chloé, the pink satin feel of ballerina shoes is taking on the sheen of flou through dusty, dry notes reminiscent of violets, talcum powder and sweet musks (if you're thinking of Lovely, by Sarah Jessica Parker, with an added dose of powderiness, you're not too far off); especially since this is a medium sillage fragrance, projecting politely while lasting power is good. Maybe it's code for "classy" or "different" in the milieu of hundreds of sweet things on the market. Maybe the generation who loved Flower by Kenzo and Cashmere Mist by Donna Karan have moved onto other things by now, leaving a void to be filled with new consuemers. The freshly powdery effect needs a true best-seller to shoot off as the new "craziness" in perfume (after "pink chypres" , fruitchoulis, and ethylmaltol-based ~aka cotton-candy smelling~ gourmands) and it remains to be seen just which fragrance that might be: Even though the concept and smell might be right for Cartier, I think we're dealing with a confusing name for Anglos: kissing the rodent seems to be many people's gut response, which might shoot the project in the foot (who can forget Rochas Poupée?).

Mathilde Laurent has been at jewellers Cartier since 2005 and she had been busy concocting Les Heures du Parfum, a series of niche-smelling fragrances sold exclusively at Cartier boutiques. Baiser Volé is the brand's first major feminine fragrance launch since Le Baiser du Dragon oriental in 2003 (Cartier de Lune of early 2011 not withstanding) and contrasted with the best-selling masculine Déclaration, which garners more than 60% of all Cartier's fragrance sales, this Baiser is set to be a serious bet on the part of the company; a recent Women's Wear Daily article tagged it as being intended as the scent pillar in the brand's feminine portfolio.It's definitely geared towards "a younger consumer", though like Robin I am at a loss on just how old the Cartier demographic really is to begin with.

The bottle of Baiser Volé is based on a stylised lighter design, for which the house is famous: In the 1970s there was no chicer way to light up (even today Cartier-embossed cigarettes are still produced in a small quantity in Europe), giving rise to the Les Must de Cartier, a boutique line from which Must perfume arose. Cartier Baiser Volé is available in Eau de Parfum (priced between $75-$145), also presented in matching Shower Gel and Body Lotion ($55 each) and deo spray, and is currently a Nordstrom Anniversary exclusive, but it will be available at major department stores in September 2011.

artwork via lunarki blog

M.Micallef Royal Muska: fragrance review

Royal Muská is a relative newcomer in the game of musk fragrances, being issued by niche brand M.Micallef in as recently as 2008, yet it has gained something of a cult status already, thanks to its cloudy soft, warmish personality, with a gentle sheen like mother-of-pearl and a ray or two of the sun hidden in there.

Fragrantica describes it as "the fragrance of tanned skin, of hot days and sultry nights" and classifies it under "fruity floral". How can a musk be tropical, you ask? Well, with the suffusion of salicylates, molecules naturally present in ylang ylang essence, of which perfumer Martine Micallef made ample use. The effect is like a delectable whiff of baked skin, almost amber-ed over with a hint of Ambre Solaire suntan lotion, but only a little. It's also rather soapy (rosy aldehydic), especially when smelled at an arm's length rather than up close, yet without any harsh alcaline edges or lily-of-the-valley "clean" vibe. Yes, it's a clean, white musk, but not quite. The best way I could describe it is "hazy", puffy-pillowy and honeyed sweetish, a real skin-scent.
Then again you might heed Katie Puckrick's warning if you're averse to musks in general, who says "on paper it seems like the kind of thing I'd dig. But I don't. It bugs me. Seems a little rank, like the inside of my friend from 6th grade’s not-very-clean house". In fragrance parlance, this is often associated with "mature" scents and I guess it is, somewhat, although it certainly lacks the complexity of old blends which incorporated musk as a supporting actor rather than the protagonist.

Royal Muská comes as an Eau de Parfum and is usually referred to as Royal Muska, the accent omitted in oversimplification, so don't get alarmed if you find it with either spelling online. More feminine than unisex, although theoretically it could be carried by both sexes. And caveat emptor regarding possible musk anosmia just like with Musc Bleu by Il Profumo applies here as well. The rectangular bottle is impressive and luxurious, even better looking than the round Micallef ones.

Notes for M.Micallef Royal Muská:
Ylang ylang, rose, white musks, precious woods, fruit notes, crystal musk and benzoin.

Related reading on Perfume Shrine: The Musk Series (ingredients & cultural history), Scented Musketeers: Musk fragrances reviews.


Photo from the Greek film Mantalena, 1960, starring Aliki Vougiouklaki and Dimitris Papamichael.

Il Profumo Musc Bleu: fragrance review

Among "white musk" fragrances which are reminiscent of clean laundry off the line, Musc Bleu by Il Profumo is among the best, eschewing the metallic screechiness present in other white musks and possessing a baby soft silkiness making it extremely popular, like an wide-eyed, amiable ingénue at a Vienesse ball would be. If it weren't for that latter element, Joan Crawford might be scrubbing her fingernails with the stuff, in a fit of cleanliness ritualistic mania after a wire hanger episode. But you see, Musc Bleu is softly voiced, not harsh. Ever. Childlike in its softness, yet cool. It's almost "ice-princess" like, yet with a hint of sensuality, like Estella in Alfonso Cuarón's version of Great Expectations. But not much, beyond a naughty kiss.

Musc Bleu was created by the Italian brand Il Profumo and the perfumer Silvana Casoli in 2004. There is a European feel about it, no doubt, as it avoids the mall associations and the dense, heavy feel of most musks found there, as well as the pervading, cut-through-the-air sharpeness some of them in the "white musk" camp possess (aimed at cutting through the mall smells of cinnamon rolls and candied popcorn emanating from the multiramas).
The tradition of Eau de Cologne underscored with musk for its lasting power is ingrained in the Mediterranean basin and people react well to those undefinable base notes, so it doesn't surprise me that this is an Italian product.
Personally, I have little use for such an opaline musk, unless I had been stranded on a deserted island on which the givens of civilization were severely compromised and I needed to create distractions that would fool me into believing I'm in less hardship than I would really be in. Nevertheless, I cannot deny its wearability and "easy", polished feel which accounts for its tremendous appeal to those hankering after "clean" smells reminiscent of dryer sheets, yet without any allegiance to "drugstore musks". Or those who are in favour of "scent layering", a process in which one sprays a "base" fragrance underneath a second one which is more nuanced and in a different style. Musc Bleu would be the perfect canvas, exactly because it's so pliable to just about any other material coupled with it. Again, not my thing, but I can see how others would like it a lot.

The scent of Musc Bleu doesn't reveal floral facets ~beyond a hint of ylang ylang and the "scrubbed" aldehyde that stands as cyclamen~ like most "white musks" do (refer to our article on types of musk). Instead it has a delicate powdery and soapy feel which is girlish, comfortable and dicreet. It oscillates between a tonic freshness and cozy warmth, which bridges the gap that several musk fragrances create, veering as they do to either one or the other direction. It wouldn't be out of place in the office or the seat right beside at the underground and it fits well in the evenings as well, if you're after an innofensive smell which will be detected only when you hug someone. In fact, I bet several people might be anosmic to it, due to its lightness. Musk anosmia is a phenomenon common with people, as musks are just about the maximum size of molecules a nose can handle, so perfumers routinely use a couple of different musky ingredients (please refer to our article) to combat that. Still, there are people who have an "umbrella effect" anosmia. For those, something else might break through. For the rest, it is a light musk, don't expect anything potent.
Even though Musc Bleu seems light and vanishing into skin in about an hour, it doesn't disappear. It becomes a "skin scent" (a scent that feels like your own skin) with a very satisfactory lasting power if you lean closer. The concentration is described as "parfum" by the company (denoting concentrated essences), but it reads as a lasting Eau de Parfum to me. There is a pronounced reminiscence with Musc Blanc by Les Bains du Marais, another clean musk which doesn't read as "metallic", yet the latter is a little more expensive and to my experience a little less lasting.

Two versions are available by Il Profumo, Musc Bleu and Musc Bleu Absolu Osmo. Between the two, the Absolu is richer, fuller with a silkier feel to my nose, probably due to the abcence of alcohol in the formula. Please note the latter doesn't come in a spray, but as a splash or dab on. Available at Luckyscent and First in Fragrance and also as of this minute, at a nice discount, on Amazon on this link.

Notes for Il Profumo Musc Bleu:
Neroli, black geranium, ylang-ylang, cyclamen, musk, oakmoss, woods, white sandalwood.

Related reading on Perfume Shrine: The Musk Series (ingredients & cultural history), Scented Musketeers: Musk fragrances reviews.

Photo La Ribambelle by anonymous.