Frequent Questions: 2000 et Une Rose vs. Mille et Une Roses by Lancome and a footnote on La Collection

One of the most frequent questions among perfume entusiasts who love roses and are discovering the offerings by Lancôme is what is the difference between 2000 et Une Rôse and Mille et Une Roses and why the different names. The explanation is rather simple: They're exactly the same scent, ambery and slightly fruity roses on a vanillic base composed by perfumer Christine Nagel, but they came about in different ways. Let's see how!

2000 et Une Rôse (2000 and a Rose) was a fragrance meant to commemorate the Millenium celebrations (along with less well-known 2000 et Une Folie and 2000 et Une Nuit), which was issued in 1999 as a limited edition in a teardrop-shaped bottle of 30ml/1oz with an accent circonflex on the "Rose" to echo the one in Lancôme (a practice the company follows often with the names of their fragrances). There is a blue ribbon threaded through a small gold loop around the sprayer, tied in a bow, as depicted. Naturally, after a while the fragrance got discontinued, as it was never meant to be a permanent addition to the line-up. However, fans of its unctuous rosiness who really loved it, searched high and low for it and had been pressing the company most energetically to re-release it. Their prayers were finally heard.

When L'Oreal decided to release the more upscale project La Collection with archived scents from Lancôme's illustrious past (Magie, Sikkim, Sagamore, Climat), they re-issued this one again, the juice tinted blue making a wonderful contrast with the other scents in the coffrets which are peachy, ambery and green. The bottle reprised the design of the scents in the line-up in architectural sparse lines reminiscent of the classic design of yore. The name changed to Mille et Une Roses (in plural, please note, due to grammatical structures of French dictating it) which simply means 1001 Roses, because the millenium celebration moniker was no longer applicable.
While Mille et Une Roses by Lancôme can be found at counters which have the other scents of La Collection (such as Saks), 2000 et une Rôse can be found on Ebay now and the lone etailer fetching quite high prices, aimed mostly at bottle collectors.
Comparison testing also suggests that the fragrance is quite close to the ambery rosiness of Stella Rose Absolute Eau de Parfum by Stella McCartney.

The other fragrances in Eau de Parfum concentration in the current coffrets of La Collection -in various arrangements within each presentation- are:
Magie (re-issue of the 1950 aldehydic-floriental scent),
Sikkim (re-issue of the 1971 leathery chypre scent),
Sagamore (re-issue of the masculine citrus 1985 scent) and
Climat (re-issue of the green aldehydic 1967 scent).
In 2007 Cuir joined the collection, with a rejingling of the juice launched as Cuir / Révolte in 1936, but its availability is limited to Europe and that only at select spots. (You can read a review of the re-issue here)
The newest addition is Peut-Être from 2008 by perfumer Natalie Lorson, merely sharing the name of a fragrance originally launched in the 1936 (Qui sait/Peut-Être which means "who knows/maybe").

Related reading on Perfume Shrine: Lancome scents, Frequent Questions

Pics via perfumenetwork and Saks Fifth Avenue.

Guet Apens/ Attrape Coeur and Vol de Nuit Evasion by Guerlain: fragrance review & comparison, with a footnote on Guerlain Ambre

Gustave Claudin writes about Marie duPlessis in Mes Souvenirs: “She was fickle, capricious, wild. She adored today what she hated yesterday. She possessed natural elegance to the utmost degree. One could certainly say she had style. No one could copy her originality. As long as florists were able to provide them, she always went out with a bouquet of white camellias”.


Marie Duplessis is none other than the inspiration for the character of Marguerite Gautier, famously known as “la dame aux camellias”. Her natural sensuality and maturity beyond her years are a logical fit for a perfume like Attrape Coeur, formely known as Guet Apens.


La belle de nuit aux violets that is Guet Apens was composed as a limited Christmas edition by nose Mathilde Laurent 10 years ago (1999) when Guerlain had its first inflow of funds from LVMH's initial investment. A slight retouche by Jean Paul Guerlain three years later resulted in another Limited edition called simply No.68 (not to be confused with the new Cologne du 68 ~for a complete breakdown of that entanglement please see my detailed article here)

Was the sobriquet non sonorous enough to English-speaking ears to keep it in production? The resinous, powdery, vanillic juice at the core of No.68 bore ties of consanguinity with both Guet Apens and Terracotta, you see.


Guet-Apens was finally renamed Attrape-Coeur and since 2005 has joined the ranks of the permanent collection of Guerlain to the rejoice of perfume lovers, reissued upon the occasion of the renovation of the flagship Guerlain store on the Champs-Elysées. Although the scent is usually credited to Jean Paul Guerlain (rumours want the then working on Guerlain project Insolence, perfumer Maurice Roucel to also having had a hand in it), the original scent was composed by Mathilde Laurent, the nose behind the controversial Pamplelune with its sulfureous grapefruit and Shalimar Eau Legere/Shalimar Light (the 2003 version) which was so fabulous. Tact prevents me from elaborating longer on the possible rupture, but suffice to say Mathilde Laurent is now composing scents at Cartier.


The phrase Attrape Coeurs means "heart-catcher" and it is lovely in its connotations, although it can have its adversaries too. Hearts are usually a corny matter, depicted in nauseating permutations as a symbol of romantic love. Guet Apens on the other hand means "ambush" in French, which makes for a much more intriguing name, but maybe that is just my opinion. For Attrape Coeur I think of a seducer, a woman who is out to get men entrapped in her tentacles, but all that done in a most elegant and non calculating, non vulgar way

In a way it goes way back to another era. It evokes the real Marguerite Gautier, famously known as “la dame aux camellias” and her influence on French society, both as the heroine of the novel by Alexandre Dumas fils and as a representation of the Parisian courtesans of the 19th century. Modeled after a real person, Marie duPlessis (real name Alphonsine), lover of Listz at one point and of Dumas naturally, dead at only 23 years of age due to consumption but having made her reputation already, Marguerite is a very alluring personality. With her pale complexion due to tuberculosis and her manners of a grande dame she captures the attention of the Parisian high society. Camellia of course in not featured in Attrape Coeur (it has no significant scent anyway), rather dark violet is, which is very apt taking in mind that Violetta is the name of the heroine in the opera version of the novel La Traviata (which literally means "woman who strayed") by Guiseppe Verdi and numerous theatrical versions, hence the association.
In the enchanting and nostalgic Langage des fleurs, a book by Charlotte de la Tour, violet stands for secret love. Violets then with a little underscoring of woods and iris form the core of the perfume.

Identifying Attrape Coeur as a Guerlain happens after it sheds its veils like Salome one by one. The opening of Attrape Coeur is as if iris got suspended in a snowy mirage, fresh, tingling, hazy, reflecting light in all directions, not unlike the charming disposition the demure Apres L'Ondee coyly reveals. A little fuzzy, fruity tone (reprised in MDCI Promesse de l'Aube and Chinatown by Bond no.9) smiles with the beatific smile of golden mosaics in Roman villas. The glycaemic nuance of violets, undescored by a mysterious greeness, a fleeting earthiness, is winking in a jar on the countertop of a French patisserie in Toulouse. And all is poised over an animal's warm, vibrating belly as it luxuriates in front of a blazzing fire.
Even jasmine makes a brief appearance, but then I regrettably lose it: it’s a lovely jasmine note like that in another Guerlain, Flora Nerolia: it remains fresh, green and dewy. Compared to other offerings from Guerlain the base is somehow between Shalimar and L’instant : not as animalic as the former, not as sweet and –dare I say it?- cloying as the latter, it combines the element of eathereal iris and sandalwood in order to give stability and powdery dryness that is much needed to bring balance to compositions based on sweeter elements. The creaminess and luxurious, plush feeling of Attrape Coeur remind me of the opulence of Bois des Iles by Chanel; but whereas the latter focuses more on gingerbread-like milky sandalwood, the former is anchored in powdery, warm amber. It's that alloy that gives the tone, with a little vanilla, tonka and perhaps civet (which I was not aware of particularly, meaning it is restrained), so characteristic of Guerlain perfumes. Attrape Coeur is formally classified as a "fruity chypre rose animalic" (although to me the rose is safely tucked in there) and gives me the feeling that were Parure composed with peach and violets instead of plum and lilacs it would be quite close in feeling.

Attrape Coeur has a lingering, creamy aura of ambery woods which makes it very popular with people enamored with comforting scents, blooming on the skin and lasting on my wrists the span of a whole day going on well into the night. This is especially satisfying rising from a plunging decolleté as it is such a wonderful perfume and a nice surprise at this time of fleeting perfumes that make us apply over and over again.

To add to the confusion ~noting the additional "s" in the name which appears by mistake in "Perfumes, the Guide"~ let me mention in passing that a special Bacarrat edition of L de Lolita Lempicka in extrait de parfum with golden netting and blue topaz is also nicknamed L'Attrape Coeur and that L'Attrape-cœurs is the French title under which the novel by J. D. Salinger more widely known as Catcher in the Rye circulates under. Talk about picking a popular name!

On the other hand, Guerlain themselves, further the confusion. Vol de Nuit Évasion , introduced in 2007, is despite the name a completely different fragrance than the classic oriental Vol de Nuit from 1933. The Guerlain tagline presents it as "a nomadic homage to a classic scent". But actually it is simply the Eau de Toilette concentration of Attrape Coeur !(This was confirmed, apart from my own nose, by official Guerlain representatives later on). Yet it is circulating only at duty-free stores in France at train stations and airports (contrary to Osmoz's quote linked); clearly aimed at the travel-retail market which is experiencing a resurgence. Considering it's 1/3 of the price of the exclusive Attrape Coeur, it's a great bargain and not to be missed if you get a chance.
The bottle is following the classic emblematic design of Mitsouko and L'Heure Bleue with the upside-down heart stopper (slightly vandalised in the upcoming La Petite Robe Noire) but with the "circle" design of the name which appears almost cinematically-styled on the Sous le Vent flacon now. A lower concentration means Vol de Nuit Évasion whispers in hushed tones whereas Attrape Coeur would sing like a dramatic soprano (which is indeed the direction in which La Traviata's Violetta is taking). It's a good middle ground.


Notes for Guet Apens/ Attrape Coeur by Guerlain:
Rose, violet, iris, vanilla, woods, amber.
And a different set of notes I found:
Top: rose, jasmine, tuberose
Heart: peach
Base: amber, musk

Notes for Vol de Nuit Evasion by Guerlain:
peach, rose, jasmine, iris, amber, precious woods, vanilla

Shopping:
Attrape Coeur is now part of Les Parisiennes line in Eau de Parfum concentrations, resting inside the big "bee" embossed 125ml bottles with the boule stopper; exclusive to Guerlain boutiques.
Vol de Nuit Evasion comes in 50ml/1.7oz bottles of Eau de Toilette, exclusively available (at the moment at least) in duty-free chains in France.
Guet Apens in the lantern-style bottle makes sporadic appearences on Ebay.

And a little footnote on Guerlain Ambre: Notice this is the bottle lantern design used in Guet Apens! And as to how Guerlain Ambre smells, I will leave you to perfume historian Octavian Coifan:

"Ambre (1890) is said to be the first perfume of Jacques Guerlain. It is a very delicate and refined perfume based on the smell of ambergris tincture. It is not a sweet perfume (the ambre 83 type) but dry and deep. It has incense rezinoid, woody notes, labdanum, some balsamic notes (benjoin), orris. It is profound and dusty as the church wood or the very old books. A simple perfume that evokes a ray of light in an abandoned sanctuary."

Related reading on Perfume Shrine: Violets, Guerlain series

Pic of Guet Apens, No.68 and Vol de Nuit Evasion by Fiordiligi (copyrighted), authorised for use on Perfume Shrine; of Attrape Coeur bee bottle shot by eowjdula/mua, of Guerlain Ambre via ebay. Artwork by Rafael Olbinski via allposters.com.

Cologne du 68 by Guerlain: fragrance review, history and comparison

Once upon a time there was a deep blue, carriage lantern with a clear stopper holding the purple creature of the night, la belle de nuit aux violets that is Guet Apens. She made her debut via the magic of nose Mathilde Laurent 10 years ago (1999) when Guerlain had its first inflow of funds from LVMH's initial investment. But the spell would be broken at midnight: this carriage was a pumpkin and limited editions are called limited for a reason; fairy godmothers can do no exceptions, no matter how talented! Was the sobriquet non sonours enough to English-speaking ears? Was there a rival fairy-godfather? No one outside Guerlain knows for sure in this fairy tale. Still, the fairy dust was too addictive and the recipe too delicious to be left at that. One belle was put to bed for an eternal slumber, another came out with a slight retouche by Jean Paul Guerlain three years later: she was simply named No.68(limited edition). The numerological Moerae were unstinting to her: 68 would be her charms and virtues, almost as many as the Napoleonic bees which adorned her herculean (250ml) physique. The resinous, powdery, vanillic juice at her core bore ties of consanguinity with both Guet Apens and Terracotta. But she too had to leave her slippers behind for fair princes to pick up in desperate hopes; she's no longer made in that guise.

Years passed in Guerlaindom and suitors came and went empty-handed, until someone realised that the address of their flagship store on the Champs Elysées in Paris is too good to pass up (after all every self-respecting maison has their address emblazoned on something) and Guerlain Cologne du 68 was born, seemingly Athena-like from Zeus' head, but in fact through the artistry of Sophie Labbé in 2006. What better of a constant reminder of the abode and shrine character of that emblematic boutique in the market?

First the new unisex Cologne du 68 came in the brave, Titanic size of 500ml. The age of the Titans was inaugurated by Les Exclusifs de Chanel and progressed from them. Size did matter! Later, masterminds at the Guerlain and LVMH headquarters realised that more customers could be lured in, if a more modest size was introduced and who wants to feel antagonized anyway? Enter the 100ml/3.4oz size which now circulates. And how does this new sprite smell? Completely different than her other, previous, stupendous incarnations; yet prodigiously good! Guerlain sang its siren song: "Fresh spices of cardamom and coriander blended with citrus fruits are warmed with hot spices of pepper and ginger for an everlasting scent [...] a sumptuous composition with 68 of the finest raw materials gathered from all over the world. Both fresh and spicy, it will win hearts with its ultra-modern facets, long wearing scent and beautiful, tall minimalist bottle."

Guerlain Cologne du 68 is ~if not fairy-tale like~ a feat of masterful work: It utilizes a sophisticated composition interplaying rich scents that conspire to give the full spectrum of aroma with no more general descriptor possible than the ambiance of a warm citrus shimmering under the spell of spices. A masterful combination of floral, spicy oriental, aromatic, herbal green and even clean elements with a powdery iris-vanillic-tonka finish that anchors it firmly in the Guerlain tradition; yet thoroughly modern, eminently wearable, fit for every occasion. The drydown is warm, rather sweet and lasting with blonde woods and slightly powdery notes that put it in flou.

The tall cylindrical bottle is appropriately unisex, well-made with the wooden cap recalling the one on Terre d'Hermès. The purpotedly 68 ingredients show up on the label, apothecary-style.

Notes for Guerlain Cologne du 68: bergamot, green mandarin, lemon, clementine, orange peel, blood orange, sweet lime, grapefruit, basil, fennel, star anise, lavender, bay leaf, cypress, elemi, thyme, myrthe, bigarade, mandarin, petit grain, lemon petit grain, pear, violet greens, lierre, gentiane, seve, blackcurrant, freesia, lily of the valley, hazel leaf, cyclamen, cardamom, coriander, black pepper, pink berry, nutmeg, ginger, jasmine, frangipane, magnolia blossom, orange blossom, peony, rose, carnation, ylang-ylang, lychee, fig, blackberry, immortelle, lentisque (mastic), opoponax, amber, benzoin, vanilla, cistus, heliotrope, iris, tonka bean, sage, musk, patchouli, agarwood, cedar, sandalwood, vetiver, vegetable musk, praline, myrrhe and lichen.

Available for $100 for 3.4 oz/100ml at Neiman Marcus and at Guerlain boutiques the world over.

Cinderella illustrationg by Gustave Doré, from the 19th century, via logoi.com .Pic of bottle by Kittyfishstyle/mua

Polo Modern Reserve by Ralph Lauren: fragrance review & comparison

~by guest writer Mike Perez

Wood. Pine. Evergreen. The Christmas season 2008 has arrived (is it just me, or is the entire fall/winter season just a blur!?) and the green/wood smell of a fresh Christmas tree is one of my favorite smells. In Miami, I can’t walk into a snow covered forest and smell the trees – so the smell of a tree or wreath filling my home is as close as I can get to the real thing.
I’ve looked diligently, for fragrances that smell like this: Fou d’Absinthe by L’Artisan Parfumeur recreates it nicely, alongside a generous helping of boozy absinthe; Aqua Allegoria Winter Delice by Guerlain smells just like a stiff / dried-out Christmas wreath (pine cones, twigs, dried holly berries) folded into a gingerbread cake accord with a resinous incense base.
I asked someone on Basenotes for a recommendation, and they mentioned Polo by Ralph Lauren.
Polo and I never really got along. Maybe because it was so easy to hate. Back in the 80’s I smelled this scent on just about every single male, in my junior high school locker room. Its irreverent wood/pine accord is unmistakably strong and diffuses in the air quickly…I always felt that it’s a ‘male’ Poison.
Now older, I realize how many colognoisseurs respect and admire Polo as a classic men’s masculine. I softened to the idea of owning it and even tracked some vintage (aerosol EdT) bottles of it on Ebay once – but I never bought a bottle.

Now Ralph Lauren has released Polo Modern Reserve, their 30th Anniversary Edition, created by the very same perfumer responsible for original Polo, Carlos Benaim. The original Polo has NOT been discontinued – rather they both are available.
It’s confusing, since both share the same bottle color, shape, cap, gold lettering and logo – the only difference is the new scent says ‘Modern Reserve’ on the front of the bottle.
When I sampled it I noticed a much more spicy (almost soapy) top note that isn’t harsh at all. Less resinous. But not ‘typical’ or ‘fresh’ (thank goodness). The scent evolves quickly through a few stages and one could easily miss them if you’re not paying attention: soapy basil; spice; a hint of leather and/or birch tar; the tiniest bit of smoky resin (myrrh?); and then: the vintage smell of Polo. The sharpness and piercing effect of the notes has been softened (the tobacco is gone). I, personally, prefer this change. The original always smelled less like something in nature (animal, plant) and more like a manufactured ‘smell’ of green foliage, woods and the outdoors. It suffered for this: It was lumped into the bargain fragrance category (along with other outstanding masculines like Paco Rabanne Pour Homme, Aramis and the discontinued [prior to reformulation/ vintage] Brut). When so many other products (hand soap, dishwashing liquid, carpet cleaner) are scented like this too, it’s no surprise many have a knee-jerk aversion to it. Maybe this is why Ralph Lauren decided to re-brand, re-bottle and reformulate it?
Me, I’m impressed: This new edition impresses me without cheapening the quality of the original scent. It highlights all of the lovely facets while it simultaneously plays down those less-than-friendly parts with a more balanced vetiver/leather base. It also, just like the original, lasts hours and hours! Which, I’ve come to learn, is what many men look for in their fragrances. {Stay tuned for a post on longevity, here on Perfume Shrine, soon}.

Does it smell like a Christmas tree? No. But, then again, it doesn’t smell like a polo field either. However a bottle, along with a copy of the scratch-and-sniff book ‘The Smell of Christmas’, underneath my Christmas tree might be just do the trick! :)

Notes for Polo Modern Reserve:
Top: Cardamom C02*, Fresh-cut Basil, Pimento Berry.
Heart: Vetyver-leather, liquid Jasmine, precious Myrrh Incense.
Bottom: Humidor Wood, Patchouli, Sueded Leather.

Prices: $62.50 / 120 ml bottle or $200 for 240 ml (limited edition, only 3,500 gold lettering bottles produced, in a numbered wooden box). Available at major department stores and http://www.ralphlauren.com/



*CO2 extraction or supercritical carbon dioxide is an increasingly popular solvent for extracting volatile oils and fragrance compounds from various raw materials used in perfumery, due to the relatively low critical temperature and reactivity of CO2 which diminishes damage or denaturing (otherwise the materials' odour would be altered).



Clip originally uploaded by Modetopiamodel on Youtube. Pics of bottle and polo player Nacho Figueras provided by MikePerez.

Sous le Vent by Guerlain: fragrance review (vintage vs.re-issue)

"Funny business, a woman's career. The things you drop on your way up the ladder so you can move faster. You forget you'll need them when you get back to being a woman." The apothecary splash bottle of Sous le Vent by Guerlain resting atop my dresser with its black, disk-shaped label with gold lettering encircling it, makes me think of the logos of old cinematic companies long defunct starring dramatic heroines with high cheekbones hissing deathly lines clad in impeccable tweeds or gala-time smooth silks. Betty Davies in "All About Eve" comes to my mind as she utters those lines, her character in stark contrast to the outwardly maudlin yet steel-hearted assistant-cum-antagonist Eve Harrington.

Although a literal translation would indicate "in the wind", Sous le Vent is French for "leeward" after the name of the tropical Leeward Isles of the lesser Antilles in the Caribbean: indeed the islands are divided into Windward and Leeward groups. Many among those "greener than a dream" isles were colonised by the French, accounting for an interesting, non-coincidental analogy ~the fruit of the Americas which has been Frenchified into Créole. Sous le Vent was composed by Jacques Guerlain for Joséphine Baker in 1933, according to the charming pamphlet provided by the boutique, as a pick-me up for applying after her notorious dance performances in which she often appeared in nothing more than an all too brief skirt made out of bananas on a string. Strutting her proud gazelle frame in the streets of Paris with a pet leopard in tow made everyone forget about Freda Josephine McDonald's humble St.Louis, Missouri birthplace and her vaudeville beginnings, evoking instead the glamourised image of a jungle animal: fierce, supple, ready to leap! And long before Angelina Jolie and Mia Farrow, she had adopted her own Rainbow Tribe: 12 multi-ethnic orphans, proving that titillation of the public and activism aren't mutually exclusive.

It is of interest to note in the iconography of Guerlain print material on their 20s and 30s scents that Sous Le Vent was featured in characteristic illustrations in the "Are you her type" series that included Mitsouko, Vol de Nuit , Liù and Shalimar, indicating that its eclipse among the classics in subsequent years was not due to a lack of intent. Les garçonnes were its natural audience but the ravages of WWII brought other sensibilities to the fore making an angular androgyne scent antithetical to the femme totemism of the new epoch in which the purring, slightly breathless tones of Marilyn Monroe caressed weary ears. It took Guerlain decades to re-issue it; finally a propos the refurbishing of the 68 Champs Elysées flagship store it was the second one to join the legacy collection affectionally called "il était une fois" (=once upon a time) in 2006 after Véga.

I am in the lucky position to be able to compare an older batch of extrait de parfum with my own bottle of the re-issued juice, and although Luca Turin in his latest book claims that the new is very different from his recollection questioning whether it is his memory or Guerlain's "that is at fault", I can attest that the two are certainly not dramatically different. Being a favourite of the black Venus of the merry times between two world wars, should give us a hint that Sous le Vent is a strong-minded affair of great sophistication and caliber. Difficult to wear as a scent to seduce or invite people to come and linger closer due to its acquiline nature, but very fitting as an unconscious weapon for a woman about to close a difficult business deal, embark on a divorce case or hire a professional assassin. It transpires strength! To that effect the vintage parfum offers rich verdancy, a mollified fond de coeur that is perhaps justified by the very nature of the more concentrated, less top-note-heavy coumpound needed for making the extrait or the diminuation of the effervescent citrus top notes. The modern eau de toilette is a little brighter, a little more streamlined and surprisingly a little sweeter in its final stages, yet quite excellent, making it a scent that always puts me in an energetic good mood wherever I apply it lavinshly -because it is alas rather fleeting- from the bottle.

Technically a chypre, yet poised between that and an aromatic fougère* to me, Sous le Vent bears no great relation to the mysterious guiles of Guerlain's Mitsouko but instead harkens back to the original inspiration behind it, Chypre de Coty, but also to another Guerlain thoroughbred ~Jicky (especially on what concerns the aromatic facet of lavender in the latter's eau de toilette concentration). Sous le Vent is both greener and fresher than Mitsouko and Jicky nevertheless, as it eschews the obvious animalic leapings yet retains the cinnamon/clove accent which will later be found in the fantastically "dirty" and underappreciated Eau d'Hermès. All the while however the piquancy that makes Coty's iconic oeuvre as well as Jicky so compelling is unmistakeably there.

Sous le Vent starts with a rush of subtly medicinal top notes of herbs that smell like lavender, rosemary and tarragon, a full spectrum of Provençal aromata. A tart bergamot note along with what seems like bitterly green galbanum skyrocket the scent into the territory of freshness and a smart "clean". Its next stage encompasses dry accords, soon mollified by the heart chord of a classic chypre composition of dusty moss with the sweet tonality of generous flowers that evoke the banana fruit: ylang ylang notably and jasmine sambac. In the final stages I seem to perceive the dusky foliage of patchouli.

Potent and assertive thought it first appears to be, a take-no-prisoners affair for a lady who was known to dance with only a skirt of bananas on, leaving her country for France and being idolized by all social strata, it screams of individualism and élan; yet strangely Sous le Vent, especially the gangly new version, doesn't invoke the scandalising side of Josephine nor her exuberant nature. Complex and elusive, it is certainly not an easy option for today’s women's sensibilities; it is rather too cerebral, too intelligent for its own good, not sexy enough. These qualities however would make it a wonderful masculine addition to a cocky fellow's repertoire. This travel back into more glamorous and individual times is worth the price of admission. Wear it if you are really interesting as a person, it will only enhance that quality.

Notes for Sous le Vent:
Top: bergamot, lavender, tarragon
Middle: jasmine, carnation, green notes
Base: iris, foresty notes, woody notes

The vintage parfum can be found on Ebay from time to time. The current re-issue in Eau de Toilette concentration is part of the Il était une fois collection exclusively sold at boutiques Guerlain and the éspace Guerlain at Bergdorf Goodman, housed in an apothecary style cylindrical bottle of 125ml with a gold thread securing a seal on the cap.

A sample of the modern re-issue will be given to a random lucky reader!

*Fougère is a classic olfactory family -mainly of masculine scents- that relies on a chord of lavender-coumarin-oakmoss.

Pic of Sous le Vent advertisement courtesy of femina.fr
Pic of Josephine Baker costumed for the Danse banane from the Folies Bergère production Un Vent de Folie in Paris (1927) courtesy of Wikimedia commons.

Vega by Guerlain: fragrance review (vintage vs.re-issue)

Véga was originally created in the 1930's, in 1936 to be precise, by Jacques Guerlain. It was such a loaded year: the Berlin Olympics, the Nobel for Eugene O' Neil and cinematically speaking My man Godfrey with Carole Lombard who could wear this perfume effortlessly. The recreation was undertaken by Jean Paul Guerlain for the opening of the renovated Boutique Guerlain in 2005 and bears his mark alongside the well-known Guerlinade base. It entered the Legacy collection, known under the name Il était une fois (=once upon a time). Belonging to the family of aldehydic florals that first took off with the infamous introduction of Chanel No.5 in 1921 by Ernest Beaux, Véga has the fizzying, sparkling element of the aldehydic opening, that can sometimes smell waxy or even soapy.

Vega is such a beautiful name: being the brightest star in the α Lyra constellation and the 5th brightest star we can see in the sky, it has 58 times the brilliance of the sun, although scientists tell us that they are full of cosmic dust. The name however evokes luminosity and the perspective of cosmos: In 1936 Paris was indeed the capital of Light, the chic metropolis of every emerging trend, the place to be!

The original jazzy Véga in vintage Eau de Toilette traipses along the classic school of aldehydics with a luminous, expansive quality and softly powdery rosey and iris notes that support the warmth of sweet flowers ~notably the piecingly sweet ylang- ylang~ and the familiar vanillic touch of the Guerlinade base that takes a creamy nuance: the lustre of big pearls worn at the open neckline of a soft cloak under marcelled hair to go out for a night of folly.
Perhaps that aldehydic arpeggio is a nod to the take-off in Chanel's No.22 as well. The notes sing in a beautiful choral that hums melodiously.
According to toutenparfum in 1995 or 1997 according to other sources (later which would co-incide with the 1996 LVMH takeover and therefore seems more probable), Véga was briefly re-introduced and swiftly disappeared again. The bottle was short and cylindrical with a bulby cap, resembling the original inkwell flacon shown in the above vintage print ad.

In the 2005 re-issue of Véga those diffusive soapy-powdery notes are softened, to suit modern tastes who have arguably distanced themselves from the more perfume-y tastes of yore. However that is not to the detriment of the perfume at all. Rather it emphasises the rich floral heart while the two versions are not dramatically different. The ylang ylang is the predominant note in the new composition, a jasmine-like scented flower with a somewhat fruity aspect; jasmine and orange blossom come along too from the wings as supporting players. Véga also features fleur de cassie (acacia farnesiana) with its rich smell, like cat's paws immersed in milk, a whiff of heliotrope. Although iris and rosewood are listed, they were not to be found in the re-issue, at least not in the usual earthy version I come to witness in most true iris perfumes, like Luten's Iris Silver Mist or Hiris. That sweet floral heart in combination with the Guerlain vanillic warmth and the plush vetiver-amber base reminds me of the fond of Vol de Nuit and Shalimar at the same time without the smokey den ambienace of the vintage forms of the latter. That is to say Véga definitely has an animalic musky tonality in it that would potentially drive off people not attuned to full, hazy florals. It is not a perfume for shying violets!
Although the heart and base have elements of Chanel No.5, especially in its parfum version, Véga is at once less naughty and woodier. That darker, more serious element is a great attribute of the creation and although it is only an idea of darkness really, it still manages to make the perfume rise above merely pretty. Guerlain has always had an affinity for making likeable and wearable perfumes, often taking inspiration from other compositions and "making them laugh", like Jacques Guerlain did with Shalimar and Mitsouko (inspired in part by Coty Emeraude and Chypre respectively). Guerlain's other aldehydic floral from the period between the two World Wars, Liù, was another one inspired by Chanel No.5, but in comparison to Véga the latter seems soapier and more angular. They both have a bourgeois sensibility that makes for generally very "French"-smelling perfumes; at least in what is considered French in the collective unconscious, France being a vast country embracing many different cultural stimuli. This is the case here with Véga and this aldehydic may be a wonderful alternative for people who cannot enjoy Chanel No.5 or Arpège or even the fabulous Editions des parfums Frédéric Malle Iris Poudre.

The vintage parfum circulated in the inkwell-shaped bottle, while the Eau de Toilette is to be found in the large oval bottles (as depicted) on Ebay. There seemed to be also an Eau de Parfum version which however I have not tried yet. The 2005 re-issue of Véga is currently available exclusively at boutiques Guerlain and the Bergdorf Goodman's éspace Guerlain in Eau de Toilette in a 125ml splash cylindrical bottle tied with a gold thread on the neck and the Guerlain seal flat on the cap.


Notes for Véga:
Top: aldehydes, bergamot, orange blossom
Middle: jasmine, rose, ylang-ylang, fleur de cassie, rose, carnation, rosewood, iris
Bottom: sandalwood, amber, vanilla

Please read another review in French on Ambre Gris.

Pic of Vega ad courtesy of euart.com. Bottle pics through etna.borda.ru, Victoria's Own and mr.Guerlain (collector).

Ode by Guerlain: fragrance review and history

He locked the door behind him and came over and sat on her bed and put one hand firmly on the little hill that was her left breast. "Now listen, Tracy" he began, meaning to ask her at least one or two questions, find out something about this wonderful girl who did hysterical things like gambling without the money to meet her debts, driving like a potential suicide, hinting that she had had enough of life. But the girl reached up a swift hand that smelt of Guerlain's Ode and put it across his lips. "I said 'no conversation'. Take off those clothes. Make love to me. You are handsome and strong. I want to remember what it can be like. Do anything you like. And tell me what you like and what you would like from me. Be rough with me. Treat me like the lowest whore in creation. Forget everything else. No questions. Take me.”

If the above piece of prose is nudging you into an abyss of sensual surrender (and a little sideways feministic complaining as well), it's all because Ian Flemming knew a thing or two about perfumes and their secret language. Coming aboard chapter 4 in his novela "On Her Majesty's Secret Service", Ode is making an appearence as the feminine wile that seals the sentimental trap for James Bond: the one time in the old series when he falls in love.

Much like Liù is Guerlain's warmer interpretation of the aldehydic vision of Chanel's No.5, Ode is the Reconquista of the floral territory of classical luxury held by Patou's Joy. Yet it is also taking a page off the book of Arpège by Lanvin, another aldehydic floral, merging the two into an abstract creation that smells like a woman; like a woman very much of the era of its creation, I should clarify.
Jacques Guerlain created Ode, his last perfume, in 1955 with the assistance of his grandson Jean-Paul (aged 18 years at the time), heir to the family vault of formulae, passing the baton to catapult the house into the modern times: it was only a few years later that Jean Paul would write his own history with the fresh tonic Vétiver and the delicate caress of Chant d'Arômes.
Putting on Ode in extrait de parfum and contemplaing its time-frame however never fails to make me wonder how those milliners (Chanel began as one) and dressmakers played such a major part in the consciousness of even old and traditional perfumery houses such as Guerlain! And also how the platonic ~rather than the literal~ idea of flowers as transfigured into a feminine fragrance stood as the semiotics of how a woman was supposed to smell like in those times. After the roaring 1920s and 1930s with their strange and brave revolutions such as Guerlain's own Djedi , Mitsouko or Shalimar , the emancipated dukey Tabac Blond by Caron or Cuir de Russie by Chanel and the shocking evocations of Piguet's Bandit during the war, the mould would slowly fall back into traditional femininity as women eased their way out of the laboring workforce and into the homely caregivers or obedient secretaries. In 1955 a floral perfume should be more than the summation of its parts (Chanel's dictum that no woman wanted to smell like a rose bed had caught on firmly) yet also less of the animalics and sophisticated bombastics of the garçonnes' era.

Ode stands as a luminous floral in the Guerlain galaxy focusing on the luxurious rose and jasmine accord that is the pillar of classical French perfumery, yet it infuses it with gentle musk and a bit of the Guerlain vanilla which gives a warm, round feel. The rose is slightly more accentuated than jasmine to my sensibility, but perhaps this has to do with my desire to immerse myself in the indolic aroma of jasmine that makes me experience this as a void. Despite the passionate prose by Ian Flemming, Ode by Guerlain is subdued and elegant through an overture of aldehydes that nod to Arpège and a creamy, slightly powdery base of delicate iris and musks. Toned down compared to both its antecedants, it is gentle and retro feminine and it makes me feel that it wouldn't be hugely popular with today's sensibilities. In extrait de parfum it stays close to the skin as an invitation for further evaluation.

The original bottle of Ode, much like Liù, was inspired by the imposing American skyscrapers. It featured a curvilinear flacon design, partly frosted, and it was crowned with a rosebud stopper. The flacon was manufatured by both Bacarrat and Pochet et du Courval (the different manufacturer can be traced via the acid stamps on the bottom of the bottles) at different times. The design proved to be so successful that it hosted Vol de Nuit, Shalimar and Mitsouko as well in the early and mid 1950s.

Although Ode should have already been the next installment in the legacy collection Il était une fois after Véga in 2005 and Sous le Vent in 2006, no news of an upcoming launch have been issued more than a year after the supposed launch (summer of 2007) and the collection remains thus mangled. Along with Kadine (1911) and Cachet Jaune (1937) they were re-issued in 2005 for demonstration purposes for the celebration of the Paris flagship store renovation, where you can catch a whiff of those long-defunct perfumes being vaporised in the air inside the infamous "microwave oven" contraptions. Let us hope that Ode will join the legacy collection at some point and not remain a memory of things irrevocably past.

Notes for Ode: rose, jasmine, woods, musk

Pics of Ode ads through Toute en parfum and Parfum de pub.

Liu by Guerlain: fragrance review (vintage vs re-issue)

The Princess Turandot presents her first riddle: "What is born each night and dies each dawn?" Prince Calàf correctly replies "Hope." Unnerved, she presents her second riddle: "What flickers red and warm like a flame, but is not fire?" He thinks a bit: "Blood". Turandot is shaken and angry so she presents her third riddle: "What is like ice, but burns like fire?" He suddenly cries out victoriously and announces "Turandot!"

Guerlain has often been inspired by dramatic stories and exotic places in the onomastics of their illustrious line and Liù takes its pride of place among them. Named after the heroine Liù in Puccini's opera Turandot, it's inspired by the juxtaposition of two different characters who make a jarring comparison: Princess Turandot is cold and cruel, elegant but prideful, not believing in love yet finally conquered by it; her maid Liù on the other hand is kind, pitiful and gentle but also passionate, and although she has true love in her heart for her lord, Prince Calàf, she willingly sacrifices herself for the sake of it. Connected by a man, they provide a stunning portrait of antithetical pieces of the same puzzle ~a women's heart and the passions that rock it. That duality of woman must have been a never-ending source of inspiration for Guerlain, as it is reprised in another fragrance: the 1979 fiery Nahéma (sisters with her opposite Mahané) from the 1001 Nights tale.

Originally created in 1929 by Jacques Guerlain, Liù is a floral aldehydic of tasteful elegance and delicately sensual seduction that puzzles with its impersonating skills. In many ways it acts as the mirror image of the world-famous No.5 by Chanel, but with an added sheen of warm comfort and minus some of the sexpot wiles of the latter. One story wants it to have been created for Rose Fitzerald Kennedy who loved the smell of Chanel's No.5, yet considered wearing it an anathema due to her husband having had an affair with Gabrielle Chanel (although it's his affair with Gloria Swanson during his Hollywood reign between 1926-1929 that is documented). Therefore Guerlain was contacted and they made a fragrance inspired by her prefered scent especially for her. The fact is that Rose kept her favourite fragrance a secret all her life; it was only after her death that it was revealed it was her signature scent. Another story , perhaps more plausible and comparable to that of Chant d’Arômes, has Jacques Guerlain furious at his wife liking and wearing the fragrance of the rival house, Chanel No.5, prompting him in hopes of diverting her from wearing the products of his competitors to create his own interpretation of aldehydes over white flowers on a musky base ~Liù, poured inside an Art-Deco bottle, a masterpiece of geometric artistry, tucked in a box that echoed the architectural design of the bottle.

Whichever of those versions is correct, the fact remains that the two perfumes smell remarkably close, especially in their initial stages. The aldehydes that provide that tingling and soapy/waxy impression are immediately apparent along with a very fresh bergamot and citrusy overture. The fragrance then segues into plush decedent jasmine of an intense femininity. Once it settles on skin however, Liù becomes its own. Musk or sandalwood are not unmistakably obvious as they are in No.5. Rose is very much woven into the fabric of the scent to peak out just enough; it only hints at the velours, sensuously powdery quality which is intensified through the iris and vanillic notes. This version of powdery is detached from the talcum-animalic-vanilla of vintage Shalimar and is more reminiscent of a gentle lady who has freshly powdered her nose to enjoy an afternoon tea with other ladies in the Club, surrounded by bushes in fragrant bloom. There is also the hint of some dried fruit, a whisper in the wind, the culinary touch that is so ingrained in the Guerlain tradition. The Guerlinade base reveals subtly earthy iris, comforting tonka bean and resinous vanilla, finishing it off in a soft-focus lens style that is timelessly elegant while at the same time very much in tempo with the era when aldehydic florals reigned: the 1950s and 1960s. The whole is even close to another Jacques Guerlain creation of the 1930s, Véga, but it's less woody or unconventionaly feminine than the latter.

In the vintage extrait de parfum concentration I have deliciously melding on my skin the darkish vanilla softens the aldehydes, rendering it quite sultry and not too sweet or soapy. Once upon a time, even a luxurious Hair Oil existed which must have been the dream of many a long-tressed lady such as myself and I would love to have been able to try it. In the Eau de Toilette on the other hand the aldehydes are more pronounced, making it more diffusive. In the current Eau de Parfum the similarity with the newer batches of Chanel No.5 are very evident, accounting for a soapy nuance which projects and lasts very well.

Notes for Liù:
Top: aldehydes, bergamot, neroli
Heart: jasmine, May rose, iris
Base: woody notes, vanilla, amber

Liù was discontinued after Rose Kennedy's death and briefly reissued in 2005 by Jean Paul Guerlain in the Eau de Toilette concentration only, and then discontinued again with no explanation. Soon afterwards however it entered Les Parisiennes line, the exclusive line-up at Boutique Guerlain, in Eau de Parfum concentration and double the price, where it remains to this day (hopefully for good!). The re-issue of Liù in Eau de Parfum can be found in the big bee bottles at the Guerlain boutiques and at Bergdorf Goodman. The vintage parfum makes sporadic appearences on Ebay.

Pictures courtesy of Okadi, La Myrrhe, Sarah's Perfumes and Ebay.

Insolence Eau de Parfum by Guerlain: fragrance review and comparison

If the description "Godzilla floral" doesn't scare the horses, perhaps the addendum "Guerlain decided this thing should not even try to be classy and has embraced it as the most deliciously vulgar perfume on the market today" could. But before making hasty assumptions that the above words of Luca Turin are meant derogatorily (they're not), wait for it: Insolence in Eau de Parfum, much like the previous Eau de Toilette incarnation, is seriously good and reminiscent of the Guerlain lineage in all its violets glory. Even if it's wearing a lilac dress illuminated in neon, it doesn't brush shoulders with the highlighter pens of Gaultier's latest, Ma Dame. Which is a good thing.

Guerlain would want us to think it's "created for an eccentric and chic woman, who thrives for perfection". Insolence Eau de Parfum is certainly eccentric if eccentricity can be defined in etymological terms: έκκεντρος from which it derives means "out of center" in Greek. Insolence Eau de Parfum therefore arrives as a skewed, even more intense, intoxicating brew in a purple-coloured twin of the Serge Mansau dishes-in-the-kitchen-sink bottle for the Eau de Toilette, itself no shy violet! Maurice Roucel has been working on violets intently lately, masterminding the earthy intrigue of the unisex Dans tes Bras for Frédéric Malle, full of salicylates and Cashmeran to give diffusion and emollience to what would have been the harsh nail-polish remover and hairspray accord that he first used in the Eau de Toilette version of Insolence.
Violets, often married with roses, as in the embulient romantic Paris by Yves Saint Laurent, have provided the intriguing conspirator in perfumes of variable constituents and antithetical moods over the years: the feminine playfulness in tutus in Malle's Lipstick Rose and Drôle de Rose for L'artisan Parfumeur, the magical realism element in Alice in Wonderland by Konstantin Mihov's Parfums d'Imperfiction, or the astrigent leather and tweeds of Balmain's Jolie Madame. And in the case of the Guerlain house violets have been a sine qua non: from the brief inclusion in the cassie and heliotropin wonder Après L'Ondée to the delectable pastilles resting on amber in Guet Apens/Attrape Coeur and Vol de Nuit Évasion all the way to their makeup product Météorites; in turn lending its star-struck name to a violet-infused potion of limited edition that mimics that softly powdery feel of their pastel-coloured spheres of delight. When Insolence Eau de Toilette first came on the market a few years ago it had elements of the above and L'Heure Bleue (or Farnésiana?) as well, making me pronounce it the first step in the right direction for the Guerlain mainstream line in a long time.

For Insolence Eau de Parfum the composition is resting atop the familiar sweet violets with subtle iris accents and enough of the red fruits tartness of the previous Eau de Toilette to which Roucel allegedly added tuberose, orange blossoms and peppery greens. You would be hard pressed to seperate them however and there is a gourmand quality which according to Albert might hark all the way back to Angel. The initial impression is even sweeter and more powdery on top rather than at the base compared with the Eau de Toilette, linear and without the initial flou and Aqua-Net note of the latter, which I admit I was not opposed myself. Constrasted, the two come off as sisters, but with the younger being more sensual and exhibitionist, the older a little more neurotically appealing and with the powdery progression reversed. Both are fronted by Hillary Swank in the print ads.

Summarising the Eau de Parfum is more approachable if you're into big, loud, sweet florals, quite close to Météorites indeed, with a liquorice flavour woven into the body of the fragrance resulting in a sci-fi rococo. Exceptionally long lasting too, wittily compared to the half life of uranium, therefore judicious use with the spray is highly recommended.
Although it was another fragrance that has been tagged as "a violet hit by a meteorite" recently, Insolence Eau de Parfum gives me the impression it has been circling eccentric orbits around a black-hole-sun since forever.

The sizes and prices for Insolence Eau de Parfum start from 52 Euro for 30 ml, 75 Euro (50 ml) to 105 Euro (100 ml). Available in the US as well by the end of the year.

Guerlain Insolence editions include: Insolence EDT, Insolence EDP, My Insolence.

Pic of Insolence Eau de Parfum advertisement via Fragrantica

Vetiver Series 5: the Straight, the Strange & the Sweet

There is just something about empyreal vetiver that makes it the perfect transitional olfactory module between an Indian summer of bright blouses and the more serious tweeds of truly autumnal weather. Vetiver's shades of green oscillate between the pale jade of cooler citrusy or milky-soapy variations of the note to the subterranean raw umber of earthy persuasions, through warm hazel with the golden flecks of sweet renditions. Sometimes this improvised colour schema is dictated by inherent personalities that emerge like leprechauns out of the flacon. Othertimes it has to do with my own sensibility when I am matching a fragrance to a current mood and letting it take me over the edge of perception.

The cooler end of the spectrum has the zestiness of hesperidic touches that end Cologne-like pick-me-up mode for days when the daze of summer holidays hasn't fully escaped my mind and the rush of the academic beginnings hasn't set in properly yet. The classic Vétiver by Guerlain is such an example, while I Profumi di Firenze Fresco di Vetiver with its bright yellow Sicilian lemons pushes the boundaries of freshness even more ~hard to picture it in cooler weather~ while still having vetiver sing its persistent basso continuo. On the other hand Vetiver by Floris although pleasantly grassy and citrusy lacks the distinction of more bracing compositions.

Some fragrances that bear the grassy root name on their fancy bottles bear little relation to the smell of either the dried roots or the potent essential oil rendered from them. You would expect from Le Labo, makers of Patcouli 24 that smells perversely of tarry leather, to compose a scent that bears no accuracy between label and juice: their Vetiver 46 is cool incense smoke with no root in sight! Patricia de Nicolai's Vetyver buttresses the root with jolting spice (black pepper, clove, coriander and cumin) and lemon tartness to assuage the earthiness in an scent that seems misleadingly labelled, interesting nonetheless. Creed's Original Vetiver opts for a lathery approach which comes and goes like whiffs of a foamy bubble-bath escaping through a closed bathroom door. Although the root is present, the alkaline smell of soap and the crispness of citrus that wafts nicely make this more office-appropriate than rolling on the forest floor after an improptu picnic a deux. When Lanvin decided to ressurect Vetyver L'Homme from oblivion (originally it launched in 1964) they engaged Francois Robert from Synarome who used 10 all-natural ingredients out of the alleged 14 to render an understated, slightly fruity variation that makes me wonder how the original might have smelled. As it is it's not corresponding to the expectations I formed reading the detailed descriptions of the Lanvin site. But if Lanvin's is meak and sterile, Annick Goutal's Vetiver is the other face of Ianus, the non-smiling one. Its iodine ambience with salty overtones puts it firmly into the territory of atypical and thus stimulating.

Direct vetiver fragrances emphasize the character of the root in a straight-arrow way, hitting bull's eye every singe time. The prototype Vétiver Extraordinaire by Frédéric Malle (composed by Dominique Ropion) contains possibly the highest levels of vetiver essences on the market today: it resembles verdant wet patches amidst cobblestones in a Medieval Italian town where students of medicine sharpened their pencils with knives. Route du Vétiver from Maître Parfumeur et Gantier bursts forth with the buoyancy of a surgical scalpel: it almost cauterizes the olfactory nerve with the raw sharpness of its Bourbon vetiver, upholded with a little blackcurrant, lots of patchouli and woody accents. The dark liquid that nests inside L'artisan Parfumeur Vetiver is pure; strong and earthy Bourbon vetiver joined by oakmoss and patchouli in an engaging conversation of earthy personae with the merest hint of hesperides. In the dimuniation of the citrus effect, Santa Maria Novella went one better with their own Vetiver: earthy, strong, especially for an Eau de Cologne concentration, with not a lemon rind in sight.

Smoke often compliments the green side of vetiver with an ineffable elegance. The classic Vetyver by Givenchy murmurs the way a well-bred gentleman of another era might. Sycomore by Chanel Les Exclusifs has a celestial beauty beneath its auspicious smoke rings. Etro Vetiver opens with a strong, earthy, true vetiver note that is dry and straight with a resemblance to the one by L'artisan minus the citrusy top and little clouds of smoke in the background. The very dark-coloured Vetiver from Lorenzo Villoresi bursts forth with less grace, unapologetically and emasculatedly strong, buoyed by bergamot while sandalwood and pepper lend an appealing backdrop that peters out in smoke.

Perhaps the most interesting addition to vetiver for me is spice with its hot-cold interplay which keeps me alert and bypasses the risks of being maudlin. Andy Tauer used both clean notes (such as a composite of lily of the valley aromatics and clary sage) and strong spices sashaying around his vetiver in Vetiver Dance, a composition that is destined to become beloved.

Sweet cadenzas with hints of gourmand delights flank some of the vetiver fragrances that can be shared by both sexes: From the slight sweetness of old-fashioned feminine Kus Kus by Bourbon French of New Orleans, which recalls the aldehydic powdery facet of Ma Griffe to the roasted French blend served with caramellised sticks of Black Vetyver Café by Jo Malone. Carlo Corinto Vetyver is darkish in hue, earthy and aromatic, but with the intrigue of licorice upon twisting the cap which makes it peculiar. Although it might seem like it has some of the sharpness of Route de Vetiver initially, it softens considerably thanks to sandalwood. My personal default gourmand vetiver is none other than the nutty, almost boozy Vetiver Tonka from the Hermessences composed by Jean Claude Ellena: its coumarinic sweetness well tempered by the grassy aroma, it's easy to wear in any weather, thus panseasonal and wafting a tasteful sillage as my arms brush against my clothes. And then there is the majestic anise and sweetly-buttery amber delicacy of Vetiver Oriental by Serge Lutens, an oriental at the edge of foresty that leaps into winter effortlessly.

Last but not least there are scents including a hefty dose of vetiver so magnificently evocative of places and situations that they defy a simple pigeon-holing; you're at a loss on how to begin to describe their arresting strangeness. Onda by Vero Profumo is such a fragrance that has the power to obliterate seasons and moods.

Pic of Alain Delon courtesy of Lilydebretagne/flickr. Pic of Asian forest courtesy of Trekearth.

Shalimar Eau Legere, Shalimar Light and Eau de Shalimar: Review,Comparison & History

Why would a legend need modernising? Why would anyone take a mythical perfume such as Shalimar and create lighter versions of it?
The answer is simple and rather alarming on certain levels: the modern young consumer doesn't especially like the original Shalimar by Guerlain. I said "alarming" because the passing of years and change of tastes means a diminished turnover for the product and because it entails tampering with a landmark in the history of perfumery. However surely the presence of flankers (follow-up fragrances that share some common traits with the mother-fragrance in terms of name and design) means that the original fragrance is successful and well-known by reputation. Otherwise it wouldn't make sense commercially!




The Problem of Shalimar: Today's Fickle Times & Young Audiences

Indeed Shalimar presents a difficult problem: its status makes it iconic, but the modern consumer too often perceives it as musty, terribly old-fashioned, with too much "skank" (the term Americans use for heavy, pungent animalic scents, but also for exhibitions of vulgarity by non-ladylike women). Although, as previously discussed, it has been tampered with through the years ~for both reasons of allergens being included in the original formula and unavailability of certain key ingredients~ Shalimar still retains its aura of decadent lack of inhibitions and musky radiation of predatory élan. Therefore Guerlain embarked on an adventure of modernisation.

Historical Efforts to Modernise Shalimar

The first attempt in Shalimar's modernisation was introduced in 2003, created by Mathilde Laurent (who also created the formidable Guet Apens/Attrape Coeur for Guerlain) and was baptised Shalimar Eau Légère. Arguably the name sounds like anathema to hard-core perfumistas everywhere: who has ever thought of a Diet Shalimar? The cornering of an alternative market however proved to be a wise decision and a good move in terms of business stategy: Shalimar Eau Légère appealled to younger women who had only vague recollections of the original or even actually found the original difficult to wear yet were keen to own their own Guerlain piece of history. And it also appealed to a certain Rock n'Roll side of some of us, with its print ads featuring Patti Hansen with her two daughters by husband Keith Richards of the Rolling Stones, Alexandra and Theodora. The setting of boho-chic clothes and luxurious baroque interiors touched a sensitive chord: tradition and modernity could co-exist!

How is Shalimar Light/Eau Legere different than classic Shalimar?
The effervescent composition of Shalimar Eau Légère sidetracks the musky, animalic base in lieu of a lemon-cupcake accord that is deliciously cool, folded into a fluffy vanilla cloud with abstract woody and lightly smoky tonalities. The opening, sustained for several minutes, is refreshing and yummy like so many modern compositions that focus on that accord, with I Love Love by Moschino and Light Blue by Dolce & Gabanna being prominent commercially successful examples. Whether that was at the back of the minds at Guerlain headquarters or not, is debatable.
It certainly smells like a modern fragrance, but at the same time it retains some of the haunting recklessness of the original mysterious beast with its recognizable sweet-ish oriental and sandalwood notes. That could be attested by testimonies of its underlying naughty nature still being perceived by people who have smelled it on my person. The DNA, the pneuma is there but the offspring is its own person and it lends itself to some wonderful wearability on the part of many perfume lovers such as myself.

Comparing Shalimar Eau Legere with Shalimar Light: How to Spot Versions


In what was a business decision when Mathilde Laurent fell out with Jean Paul Guerlain, a rejingled version was issued about one year later and credited to Jean Paul Guerlain. Although the two are very close, the later interpretation is even more restrained and less complex in the base with a lime-like top note that echoes sparkly beverages instead of lemon and bergamot.

This small difference in smell presents a problem of differentiation between batches, since the resulting version is widely known as Shalimar Light, yet it appears that both that name and Shalimar Eau Légère Parfumée appear on the bottle with a line break.

The best way to ascertain which batch you are smelling or buying is looking at the colour: the earlier version is straw-coloured in a bottle with a blue-ish edge along the sides and bottom, while the later version is somewhat bluer.
The fragrance came in a light blue box with a light-golden-beige interlay where the traditional black was, different from the usual Guerlain boxes and featured the name Light on one side and Eau Légère Parfumée on the other.

Neither Shalimar Eau Légère nor Shalimar Light are in production, both being limited editions of Eau de Toilette, but erratic batches of the discontinued fragrances do turn up on Ebay, peripheral stores and discounters from time to time.

The Introduction of Eau de Shalimar, a 3rd Version

Eau de Shalimar is the latest version in the Shalimar flankers stable, introduced in April 2008. Curiously it is attributed to Mathilde Laurent, who however left Guerlain for Cartier 4 years ago. Whether its juice is the same as any of the previous attempts has been the focus of a search for minutiae among perfumephiles who pay attention to every move of their favourite house, myself included.  

Eau de Shalimar seems like a face-lift that has resulted in too attenuated features: there is nary a little frown and that deducts something of the lived-in quality that Shalimar possesses. The rumour of an inferior bergamot essence replacing the vintage ingredient and the shortages on Mysore sandalwood, as well as the lightening of the powdery aspects of coumarin and iris, might account for the effect.

Between the different batches I appreciate the original Shalimar in vintage extrait de parfum and parfum de toilette, but I find myself wearing Shalimar Eau Légère by Mathilde Laurent more comfortably, especially in the summer months.

So is Eau de Shalimar that different? The official response by PR official Isabelle Rousseau is categorical: "Je vous informe que la fragrance Eau de Shalimar est la même que Shalimar Eau Légère Parfumée, réalisée par Jean-Paul Guerlain." (ie. I inform you that the Eau de Shalimar fragrance is the same as Shalimar Eau Légère Parfumée, created by Jean Paul Guerlain.) Taking into account that this is the woman who had specified to me when exactly the reformulated batches of Mitsouko Eau de Parfum started circulating (June 2007, for those who missed it), I have no reason to doubt her credibility or sincerity. Still, a miniscule variation might be due to different batches of ingredients.

The bottle of Eau de Shalimar is easy to distinguish among its predecessors: made of transparent glass but in a different colour. The label with the fragrance name is in midnight blue color, while it is enclosed in a white outer box. It is available at major department stores as 50ml (1.7 fl.oz.) of Eau de Toilette.

Official Notes for Shalimar Light/Eau de Shalimar: lime, bergamot, orange, rose, iris, jasmine, vanilla

Pics via parfumdepub, ebay and fragrantica