Chanel Coco by Chanel: fragrance review

Coco by Chanel must be among a handful of fragrances on the market to have not only one, but two flankers without being a spectacular market success to begin with. Flankers are supporting fragrances coat-tailing on the success of the original perfume, borrowing part of the name of the original as well as the bottle mould, but differing in scent and target demographics. Coco has two: Coco Mademoiselle, an alarmingly successful best-seller for youngish women that has far eclipsed the original, and Coco Noir, a woody fragrance of recent crop with dubious presence on the market as yet. Today Coco seems old fashioned and aimed only at mature women, fading-to-market-black, but soon after it came out it profited of a marketing campaign that positioned it as a sexy debutante scent, fronted by then teenager Vanessa Paradis! Funny how perceptions change and we used to wear Ungaro Diva and the like when not yet out of high school, right?

The most astounding personal association I have with Coco has always been one that pertains to its market share, not the scent itself: In all my many years of perfume observation & appreciation I have never met in real life a person owning a bottle of Coco, a fact which had always struck me as weird considering the continued presence of the perfume on the counters. Chanel No.19 is also an undivided presence on the local counters (and a steady seller according to SAs), but I actually know people who wear it, I smell it on the street from time to time and I have seen bathroom shelves with a bottle of it proudly displayed more than once or twice. Someone must be buying Coco too, then, right?
But let's take things at the top.

Aiming to capture a more Baroque side of Chanel, taking the sobriquet given to Gabrielle Chanel by her escapee father and inspired by Gabrielle's Rue Cambon apartment with its casket-like rooms full of Venetian glass, Chinoiserie panels and leather bound books, house perfumer Jacques Polge set out to compose a true 1980s perfume following the commercial smash hit of YSL Opium: bold, brash, take no prisoners. And he succeeded in the most part.

The fragrant secrets of Coco by Chanel
One of the peculiarities of Coco is that it was among the first perfumes to be conceived not as an extrait de parfum first but rather envisioned in its diluted form of eau de parfum. The market had gone away from the more discreet, more intimate use of parfum extrait and demanded a really powerful spray that would announced the wearer before she was seen; ergo the eau de parfum (and sometimes the parfum de toilette) concentration, less expensive than extrait but rivaling its lasting power, while at the same time being extra loud thanks to the volatility boost via the spraying mechanism.

The secret ingredient in the formula of Coco by Chanel is the inclusion of the base Prunol*, a rich and dark "dried fruits & spices" mélange famously exalted in Rochas Femme by Edmond Roudnitska, which gives Coco a burnished hint of raisin. The cascade of honeyed spices immediately asserts itself: pimento, cardamom, cinnamon, cumin and clove, while the overall feeling is one of amber plush and resinous warmth (with a wink of leather) with the flowers folded into a rich batter and undiscernable. The patchouli (tucked into the Prunol base) gives a whiff of chocolate, though, in the words of Susan Irvine, not even a fashion innovator of the magnitude of Chanel would have considered a note reminiscent of a bedtime drink as worthy of consideration in fine fragrance. (One would perversely wish she had lived through present fruitchouli-infested times to see how she'd chuckle under her smartly cuffed sleeve.)

A Perfume Apart
Coco by Chanel enjoys something of a revered status among perfumistas, so it's not clear whether it should be considered an "underrated perfume" in the first place, but my inclusion in the Underrated Perfume Day series isn't totally random as it would appear on first sight nevertheless. First of all it was demanded by quite a lot of readers. Secondly, this is the kind of perfume that I should be theoretically crazy about (a spicy oriental in the mold of my beloved YSL vintage Opium, Cinnabar, Feminité du Bois and Krizia Teatro alla Scala) and yet I am not. Indeed I have been trying it on and off for decades now.

However when married with a huge bottle of Coco (extrait de parfum in spray no less) I had the following peculiar problem, for something so -allegedly- admired: I could NOT swap it with other interested perfumephiles no matter what! I tried everything: stooping to suggesting I'd trade for inexpensive eaux de toilette from mainstream brands, offering to supplement with generous niche samples, pleading "please take it off my hands, it's a shame it should collect dust, just take it already". No one wanted it. I finally gifted it off to a women's shelter where its whereabouts have been lost to me. The perfume lover who had sold it to me in the first place recounted to me the exact same problem: "I spent two years trying to get this thing off my hands; when you came along and showed an interest I couldn't believe it".

Is Coco by Chanel something that perfumistas like to reference but rarely -if ever- wear? Are its wearers merely nostalgic for the 1980s, a time they were young and more optimistic, and therefore owning a little bottle is just that, a memento of carefree times? Is it, finally, past its due and not that spectacular to begin with? I think a bit of all those things. One thing however that it did magnificently well was its advertising by Jean Paul Goude: Vanessa Paradis as an exotic bird in a cage whistling to the meowing of a big greedy cat outside and "l' ésprit de Chanel" as the tag line. Coco Chanel would have been proud.

For more perfume reviews of such fragrances check out the Underrated Perfume Day feature and scroll for more musings. 

*For modern takes on the Prunol type base in perfumes, look no further than Bottega Veneta eau de parfum, Chinatown by Bond no.9 and Mon Parfum Chéri by Camille (Annick Goutal).

Optical Scentsibilities: the Hug

What better way to show affection, protectiveness and love than a hug? In that spirit, the pose of a woman hugging a perfume bottle has been used a lot in advertising and it is our study subject for today.

A hug can be maternal and protective of a precious entity, signifying tenderness. As in Fidji by Guy Laroche.


And the Mother and Child by G.Klimt.



A hug can also signify daydreaming, and in it the freedom to be what one trully is. As in Caron's tender and contemplative Fleur de Rocaille.



Or in this art print in 60s style.



A hug can also be slightly provocative, sensually tantalising and promising escapades of an amorous sort. As in this ad of Senso by Ungaro featuring Nastassja Kinski from the 1980s.

Or in this famous illustration by Mel Ramos Hunts for the Best (1981), where the model suggestivelly embraces the topmost of the ketchup bottle.

Additionaly there is the semi-hug, a way of displaying the fragrance bottle than actually bringing it close to one's bosom, which can mean that it is prized loot; like in this ad for Covet by Sarah Jessica Parker. If you had followed Perfume Shrine, you will remember the wonderfully witty commercial for the scent, directed by J.P Goude.

It can also signify contemplation of the value of what its true essence means to you, like once again in the exotic shores of Fidji. The perfume becomes you, as the tagline said: "Every woman is an isle. Fidji is her perfume".

It can be your true essence itself, the magical elixir that transforms the woman into a plummed bird such as the Coco ads with Vanessa Paradis as a paradise bird (ingenious). Thus hugging the bottle is embracing the last frontier of imagination...



And finally, when something is as iconic and a mythos of its own, like Chanel No.5 is, it simply demands to be carried on the bosom as the insignia of excellence and the true arbiter of taste. Gigantic in its message as well as its physical size, it becomes bigger than life, fit to be hugged by only another living myth: Catherine Deneuve.

Which one is your favourite hug?

Pics from okadi, parfumdepub, ebay, allposters.com and art.com

Optical scentsibilities: the allure of the sofa

Many times a simple object holds a fascination beyond its functionality. Like sofas... They are lovely to cushion our derriere, but have we paused to think how they also suggest an atmosphere of nonchalance that is eminently befitting perfume images?
Not surprisingly the thought has crossed the minds of perfume photographers and illustrators for a long time. For Coco, the baroque oriental by Chanel an equally decorative sofa from the appartment of Coco Chanel on Rue Cambon has been selected to hold the porcelain curves of model Shalom Harlow.



While for Christian Dior it was Dioressence and illustrator Rene Gruau that took the sofa into the realm of the decadent and sybaritic. One can almost feel the feline look in the eye of the woman in the ad, as her face is partially masked by the big, colourful cushions resting atop a schematic sofa.

But there also less classical examples of perfumes that use the reclining on a sofa pose to very good effect....
Isabella by Isabella Rossellini, a warm powdery floriental


Still by Jennifer Lopez, a limpid floral


Byzance by Rochas, a warm and deep oriental

Perhaps one could trace this tendency way back to venues other than perfume. To art and its effect on the collective subconsious that tends to find similarities and recall familiar images, even if not consiously perceptive.
After the ball by Margaret Dyer uses an impressionistic palette and brushstroke to show the contemplation of the heroine, hand under chin, reminiscing about the highlights of the event; such a formal occassion should have demanded her best perfume, surely.


Natasha Gellman by Diego Rivera was painted in 1943 and is full of the usual clear, bright palette of Rivera in almost an illustration which depicts a glamorous lady of the times reclining on a sofa amidst white blossoms which seem to emit their own rich aroma.



But of course the archetype is probably Madame de Pompadour by Francois Bouchet, painted in 1757 and rounding off the theme of contemplation, elegance and languor, as expressed in the trails of beautiful essences that must have adorned her lavish clothes.





Pics of ads from parfumdepub and okadi. Paintings: After the ball by Margaret Dyer, Natasha Gellman by Diego Rivera and Madame de Pompadour by Francois Bouchet. Courtesy of art.com, allposters.com and madamedepompadour.com

Anonimo Veneziano by Nobile 1942: fragrance review

"I had removed my mask, and was drinking some coffee under the ‘procuraties’ of St. Mark’s Square, when a fine-looking female mask struck me gallantly on the shoulder with her fan. As I did not know who she was I did not take much notice of it, and after I had finished my coffee I put on my mask and walked towards the Spiaggia del Sepulcro, where M. de Bragadin’s gondola was waiting for me. As I was getting near the Ponte del Paglia I saw the same masked woman attentively looking at some wonderful monster shewn for a few pence. I went up to her; and asked her why she had struck me with her fan.
“To punish you for not knowing me again after having saved my life.”

From the memoirs of Jacques Casanova de Seingalt

You open up your eyes to see she's not there anymore. You never had the chance to ask her her name...



Like Casanova (1725-1798), that "king of kiss and tell" (himself the author of this proverbial reputation)used to say: "nothing is surer than that we will no longer desire them, for one does not desire what one possesses."

Anonimo Veneziano is the name of a feminine fragrance by niche Italina brand Nobile 1942 that serves better than names as an evocation of a mysterious rencontre in the dark alleys of Venice during Carnival time.

It is coincidentally also the name of a rather melodramatic film from 1970 by Enrico Maria Salerno with a memorable music score and a plot line like "Love Story", featuring the alluring Brazilian-born Florinda Bolkan. Florinda also appeared in Visconti's "The Damned" (a long time favourite of Perfume Shrine) and she is the embodiment of the high-cheekboned mysterious dark woman. Not unlike the one whom Casanova might have rescued and never asked her name...

According to the Nobile 1942 promo:

Venice: her alluring womanly grace - let's get into all the brightness of gold.

ANONIMO VENEZIANO is the quintessence of womanliness - its mystery, its alluring ineffability. Its scent notes are tailored as to create a magnificent though delicate score.
A real masterpiece of equilibrium between naivety and sophistication.
It has no name - it is just time, place and dream.

The predominant note throughout this oriental fragrance is the sensuous feel of labdanum enhanced by the crispness of hesperidic notes of a discreetly sweet character. Bronzed and pulsating with warmth, a sultry crackle; there is perhaps also a touch of the spice caravan that stopped in the Venetian port.
The delicate sweetness is further supported by the bouquet of ylang ylang and jasmine that later surface. The former is particularly noticeable with its intense, lush character.
I feel that Anonimo Veneziano is what I had hoped the original Coco by Chanel , with which they share common elements, would be on my skin. Smooth, erotic, delicately spicy and subtly leathery resting on a sweetish ambery base with soft woods that lingers and lingers. The mystery that is woven throughout the drydown is what lured you in and made you forget mere technicalities, such as names.


Official notes:
Top: bergamot, red mandarin, brazilian orange, light jasmine
Middle: Rosa Damascena essence, dawn jasmine from India, ylang ylang, lotus flower
Bottom: cistus, indonesian patchouly, sandalwood from India, powdery vanilla

Available in Colonia Intensa (eau de toilette) and Fragranza Suprema (eau de parfum)concentration. Both have great tenacity and smell rich.

Images uploaded on Flickr by sph/step into the mist and Kaykoeverhart/venetian mask.

Coromandel from Chanel Les Exclusifs: fragrance review

In the whole line of Les Exclusifs, one scent stands as trully lasting and sillage worthy. It's Coromandel, a dry ambery oriental advertised as "an oriental fragrance using a tree resin called benzoin, which has vanilla-like properties" inspired by the chinese lacquered panels that were abundant in Chanel's apartment, Coromandel denoting the company producing them and not the style of the panels.
The baroque appartment of Gabrielle/Coco Chanel on Rue Cambon, although not her place of actual abode (she used to stay at the homonymous suite at the Ritz in Paris), served as a background drop of her innermost luxury hedonist. And it was the basis of inspiration for another one of Jacques Polge's perfumes, Coco original, a spicy oriental, back in 1984. In it indeed a very opulent composition is evoking odalisques spread on leather sofas, weighted down by copious amounts of bronze and antique gold jewels.

Coromandel is described as "not innocent", as it is "weighted by frankincense" and "contains a hint of the heavier spices of the East".
Although I am a spicy oriental type, this sounded a bit like a rehash of Coco, of which for better or worse I a not a great fan and so before sampling I was almost certain that it would be too much for me, reserving instead my expectations for no.18. It soon proved that I was mistaken.
The initial impression is that of a citrusy, orange-like pipe tobacco mix rolled in powder, much like the one encountered upon meeting that vixen little scent called Fifi by lingerie designer Fifi Chachnil or a slightly less milky Fumerie Turque. In fact it could very well be a similar idea to that explored by the newer Burberry London for men.
Perhaps the orange impression derives from the inclusion of frankincense, a resin that sometimes gives off a sweet citric tang while burning.
A sweet lush note throughout is echoing subtly like vanilla pods immersed in fruity liquor and it opens up and expands on the wings of aged patchouli, mellow, soft, sweet and inviting. It would seem like the most glorious thing, if it were not for it being a little derivative of their Allure Sensuelle with a touch of Borneo by Serge Lutens and Prada thrown in for good measure. The influence Angel has had on the market in general is astounding to behold! Never mind that my favourite patchouli ever is Film Noir by Ayala Moriel.
Yet where Borneo is an inconoclastic dark patchouli laced with dark roasted coffee and Prada is an insolent single-minded young rebel that wants to shock her conservative environment in a relatively safe way, much like Muicia herself liked to do, Allure Sensuelle and consequently Coromandel do not dare push the envelope even in playful jest. They are not terribly innovative, although between the two Coromandel is much more complex and alluring.

Luckily, the pervading dryness along with just a touch of frankincense for a sense of mystery, not showcasing amber in any great degree all the while, provides a great balance to the sweeter vanilla elements and makes the whole not puff up in blue clouds of smoke, but stay the night on warm skin and well used sheets.
Sexy, yet not terribly imaginative. A cinnabar-hued brocade jacket, upper button undone with black camelia Chanel earrings. C'est ça!

Art photography by Chris Borgman courtesy of his site.

Perfume advertising 2: the boundaries of fantasy (multimedia clips)

In my previous entry I got the ball rolling and discussed the merits and progression ofChanel #5commercials in an effort to elucidate what fantasy can do for advertising purposes when done stylishly. Perfume advertising’s power lies in its ability to make us dream, to yield in escapism bringing into play an array of male and female types from mythologies which meld standard notions of what man and woman stand for. Those types address the natural and essential aspiration of consumers to partake of a desired personality. This takes either one of two possible ways: to be different, that is to become the person we would like to be; or, to be oneself, to affirm the person we believe ourselves to be. Of course fantasy is not exclusive to Chanel #5 as today’s post is going to show. There are other commercial clips aired on TV that have relied on the exploitation of sublime ideas far above the normal realm of what a perfume conveys, which would be smelling good. In this domain Chanel does excel it seems as they really do give a thought about it and they employ only top-notch professionals. The results speak for themselves.

Proof for that is one of their greatest commercials to date, the classic one for Egoiste, a men’s perfume from 1990. The commercial is brilliantly set to Prokofiev’s music from his ballet Romeo and Juliet “dance of the knights”. The magisterial, eerie and ominous score opens the scene when women shot in black and white cry and spell curses on the egoist male “hero” who has been tormenting them, daring him to show his face. As soon as a male hand opens one blind in what looks like a luxe French hotel, leaving the bottle of the Chanel product on the sill, the film turns into colour and the women enraged at his arrogance to show up so provocatively bang their shutters crying out “Egoist” with all their might. It is worth noting that all gowns are designed by Karl Lagerfeld, not two are the same, but also even the interiors of the briefly glimpsed rooms are all decorated differently.This is no typical advertising, in that it does not try to present any desirable trait on first reading, in compliance with the very imaginative use of the perfume’s name, which otherwise would guarantee its flop. The male protagonist remains unknown as we never see him fully, but his exploitations, although of a dubious moral substance, create a sense of primitive male pride in conquering in the stakes of female hunting.This consolidates the stereotype of a male Lothario who appears just in time that women have established their prowess in the workforce and perhaps feel the need to regress in their more feminine role of the hunted. The French have always depicted their female role-models in their advertisements as passive anyway, the myth equivalent of Venus in contrast to the independent Diana of the American prototype. If the advertising seemed daring and provocative enough in its depiction of the sexes, it is a testament to its artistry that sixteen years later Egoiste is still with us, a wonderful men’s perfume chosen by discerning women even for themselves, set to a terrific commercial that has written advertising history single-handedly. Watch the clip clicking here

Egoiste had a follow-up flanker perfume, Egoiste Platinumin 1994 that followed the concept of the male egoist of the previous commercial. This time it reprises the male hero who is battling with his alter-ego or consience, shown as a domineering force of a shadow on the wall taking life of its own and speaking in a voice over that insists he is nothing but an egoist threatening to take his place. The man takes a beating and then retaliates. Set to the same musical score and brilliantly shot, it is somehow tamer as it takes back much of the force of statement the original did about an undesirable (or is it?) personality trait that cemented the reputation of the first commercial’s character. As this aired in mid-90s, a time of political correctness and the perfume itself was made with an eye on the huge American market (where indeed it is more popular than the original Chanel fragrance) it shows the time frame in which it was conceived in plain sight. Still, it is imaginative and superbly executed. Watch the clip clicking here

Next in our discussion of fantasy in terms of perfume advertising comes the controversial and rare gem of Obsessionby Calvin Klein in 1985. This clip comes from beforeObsession became tied to overt sexual provocateur imagery painted with Bruce Weber’s aesthetic and certainly long before the Kate Moss anorexic ads of the mid90s. It aired briefly because of pedophile overtones that aptly tied with the effulgent tag line “Love is child’s play once you’ve known Obsession”. It cost it swift termination though and an ingenious spoof acted out on Saturday Night Live for “Compulsion”. In this clip a young boy of no more than 12 is reminiscing about a young woman who seems to be the object of his obsession, unattainable and therefore desirable, an idol for his worship, for which he wonders if she was real or whether he invented her. the inclusion of chess scene conveys a celebral quality as well, also being a scheming hint that requires thought. The young female model is wholesome and at the same time mesmerizing in a peculiar way, without ever becoming vulgar. The models all wear the classic casual-chic neutral palette of Calvin Klein with plain yet somehow distinctive tailoring that helped Klein become a force in the American fashion scene. The female protagonist, a Diana-like effigy in her slender athletic physique and stance manages to instill desire and yearning, making us want to become such a powerful impression on someone else’s mind as well. Of course the choice of an adolescent boy over which she exerts her power might be attributed either to advertisers being hesitant to completely overturn the tables and show female dominance over a studly mature male or else a penchant of Klein for adolescence and the provocation angle this offers. We might as well consider the equally controversial print campaign for his Jeans line at the end of the 90s, when adolescents posed in sets that resembled 70s pornographic photos from gay magazines. That one raised hell as well earning it banning. It is safe to assume that Calvin Klein has always cleverly capitalized on sex and its implication, pushing the limits on many of his ad campaigns and yet, his outlook and aesthetic although daring and challenging has not become vulgar or common like campaigns of late, Tom Ford’s direction for Paris perfume for Yves Saint Laurent for instance or Dior Addict displaying acres of glistening naked skin. Klein did show skin a lot, especially in the carnal decade, but somehow (perhaps naively) you got the impression that he really did like the images and did not only do it for the bucks. Watch the clip clicking here

Speaking of using sex as a selling point done in a completely fascinating way can be witnessed in the following Shalimar by Guerlain commercial. Rare and coming from 1984, it exploits the rich history of this legendary scent by genious Jacques Guerlain. Named after the gardens where a royal tale of love bloomed resulting in one of the greatest monuments on earth, the Taj Mahal, Shalimar has from the start been inextricably tied to seduction and oriental mystique. Said commercial is distinctly 80s in its imagery, using the glamorous and sensuous images of that time frame and a brief retro shot of the Prohibition 20s in sepia, reminding as that Shalimar is “as close to forever as a perfume can go” ( the most fitting tagline ever!). Set to what sounds like a ChopinNocturne (although I haven’t checked, so I might be wrong) it creates a mood ripe for romance, galvanizing our imagination. Racy and yet tasteful, from sucking on candy to the purring voice-over, from the wet splashing on a fully made-up face that was oh-so-now back then to the shot of a foot fetishly shod in a high heeled sandal, it manages to make women and men alike dream about seduction and sensuousness, achieving an esteemed place in my mind as one of the most memorable commercials I have ever seen. Watch the clip clicking here

To come full circle, no other than Chanel again for Cocoperfume for today’s last play on fantasy. Shot in France in 1992 by Jean Paule Goude, it is perhaps the most surrealistic of them all and the most masterful in its subtle but powerful subconscious message. It involves the birdcage in which a swinging Vanessa Paradis is the rare enslaved bird of a rich plume whistling melodiously when the drops of Cocoare spilled by a gloved hand; the thunderstorm cracking outside the Parisian apartment, the ghost of a woman who looks like Coco herself viewed briefly in the end in a white classic suit, crossing the leg by the window in a pose of defiance and utter chic. As Cocohas been advertised with the line “l’esprit de Chanel” (Chanel’s spirit, as it was inspired by her baroque appartment) it uses both wordplay (as spirit connotes both personality and liquid) and imagery to drive the point home. And it succeeds admirably. The inclusion of a white aristocratic pedigree cat, watching the caged “bird” come to life fascinated is a playful touch alluding to luxury but also possibly male attraction in the traditional hunter role, in a superb clip that makes the viewer want to awaken the hidden side, the singing side, the one talked about in the poem by Maya Angelou, “I know why the caged bird sings”. In such a commercial the limits of fantasy are so much challenged that it becomes a tale in itself, living the viewer enraptured in a reverie of unsurpassed mastery. Watch the clip clicking here

Next post will tackle the difficult subject of gender play in advertising.