There are not as many fragrances with a leading narcissus note, as I would wish, and some of the best have been discontinued, for example, Le Temps d’Une Fête Nicolaï Parfumeur Créateur and Ostara Penhaligon's. Patricia de Nicolaï's Le Temps d'une Fête is the perfect narcissus-ladden green floral to evoke spring, full of crushed leaves and grass; a fragrance so beautiful and cheerful that it will make you spin around and around humming Mendelssohn's Spring Song even when taking down the Christmas decorations.
It does bring on a little chill from the frost of March. It's the bitter, sharp synergy of galbanum and oakmoss; they have a sobering effect on the narcotic aura of the narcissus/jonquil and hyacinth heart.
photo via Pinterest from johnnyseeds.com
It is the promise of spring-time in this transitory phase in which the first buds are tentatively raising their heads beneath the still cold air, which is enough to have us on pins and needles for the full blown effect of spring's arrival. It's usually then a little spring-like fragrance is very much desired — nay, craved — when the last woolies of the winter season are finally getting their last rites, so to speak, like Le Temps d'une Fête. And when it comes...cause of celebration!
Le Temps d'une Fête is like that, exactly. The joy of living rendered through natural paint strokes of the most
delicate and precious watercolors. A masterpiece of dexterity and
finesse
Alas, the brand discontinued it long ago. I do hope they bring it back from the dead in a rite of eternal spring!
Now that perfumer Christine Nagel is at the helm of Hermès, looking back on her work for various brands reveals her core aesthetics; at once saturated and filled with light, like a Joseph M.W. Turner painting that foreshadows what's to come, namely Impressionism. Judging by her newest Eau de Rhubarbe Ecarlate and Galop, this heftiness-shot-with-brightness continues the sun path to its natural apex.
With Fendi's Theorema, Italian for theorem, a proposition that has been proven to be true based on previously established statements, Nagel has taken a theme and brought it into its culmination. Namely the "Oriental perfume" that feels as comforting as nibbling chocolate by the fire, while at the same time retaining the plush luxury and sophistication that a proper womanly perfume fit for the salon should exude.
Fendi's Theorema, inexplicably discontinued much too soon (at least before the brand discontinued its entire line in order to bring out the newest project on the shelves) and at least as clamored for a resurrection as Laura Biagotti's Venezia, opens with the delectable alliance of orange and chocolate. The effect of the former is apparently accounted by two unusual citruses: tangelos and thai samuti. The chocolate is folded with sweet spices, amber and warm milky woods, such as sandalwood and rosewood; there's none of the austerity that woody notes usually provide. A touch of a classic, orientalized bouquet of flowers (orange blossom, ylang ylang, jasmine) gives just a tinge of ladylike proclivities. But Theorema is too good to stay on the ladies alone...and is extremely ripe for a resurrection as well.
Estée Lauder Honeysuckle Splash is another forgotten launch in the Lauder stable, much like Celadon and Pavillon, this time conceived by Aerin Lauder (the grand-daughter of Estée) and launched in 2000 with a mock vintage look. Although totally modern in literal terms, the bottle is a retro pastel pistachio green, as if reborn from the Technicolor 1950s, exactly similar to the one designed for Youth Dew, Aerin's grandmother's classic, designed 46 years previously. The name alone is full of promise: how wonderful would it be to be able to splash on one's self that delectable but elusive essence that fresh honeysuckle vines exude when you walk by on a warm, late spring evening?
The fragrance contrary to that dreamy picture was merely posing as an ancillary product to the main attraction, that season's makeup collection, code-named "Playful". Oh marketing of feeble faith!
The delightful blend of Honeysuckle Splash is deeply floral with the nectarous quality that honeysuckle is famed for (to the point that children in Europe sometimes suckle on the flowers) and a more lasting impression than other lovely honeysuckle fragrances in the market, such as Annick Goutal's Chevrefeuille and L'Erbolario's Caprifoglio. In Lauder's take, Honeysuckle Splash, the pink and white flower with the honeyed petals is allied to the dependable note of orange blossom for extending the white flower note and further accented with citrusy notes of mandarin, the smooth elegance of neroli and the romanticism of white rose. The slight suntan oil impression lurking in the back hints at the presence of ylang ylang and maybe a smidgeon of sweet vanilla. The irresistible elevation of the fragrance into the truly worthwhile however is accounted to the richness of the orange blossom note and the neroli essence, with what seems like a spattering of linden as well, which opens the bouquet and makes Honeysuckle Splash poised between clean and subtly intimate, with a realistic nuance of lush, waxy, honeyed petals; a very flattering reference to a woman who wants to be flirted by a man like a flower by a probing bumble-bee. Typically for a Lauder it had potent sillage and great lasting power.
Even though many young women are hesitant to give in to floral fragrances in the idea that it makes them look either more mature than they want or somewhat old-fashioned, Honeysuckle Splash has enough contemporary sensibility to not alienate its natural demographic. It's a mystery why Honeysuckle Splash was discontinued shortly after its release; unless it was a limited edition to begin with, though I don't recall this being mentioned at the time. Like one woman put it: "I haven't heard of any plans to bring this product back but if they ever do I will be first in line to stock up". It was around a period where another series of fragrances was issued (this time a definite limited edition thing), called Pleasures in the Garden. But for that another post, another day.
Part of the New Romantics collection in 1978, Celadon and Pavilion are two of the three fragrances which could be layered with one another to produce unique effects for the wearer. The third one was destined to go down as a true classic, White Linen composed by Sophia Grojsman, while the rest were eclipsed by its radiant aldehydic floral sheen. It has been said that perfume trios never really work out, one inevitably outshining the others, and that may be why the other two were soon discontinued. The sales numbers were merciless.
Celadon in particular smells like something that could proudly sit in a niche brand's portfolio today; not really overpowering, this green floral by Estee Lauder fuses a sweetly grassy note with flowers shimmering on aldehydes (synthetically produced notes with an intense profile), a combination which recalls a garden in full spring bloom. In reverse order than is usual for green florals, the progression becomes ever greener, as the bitterish, bracing scimitar of galbanum (the resin off an exotic grass) bites. The soapy aldehydes take a metallic nuance, reminiscent of Metal by Rabanne or Rive Gauche by Yves Saint Laurent and it is here easy to see how men could borrow Celadon effortlessly. The heart is reminiscent of the hyacinth floralcy of Guerlain Chamade. The greenness adds an outdoorsy, spring-buds and herbs quality, yet the soft, powdery scent background is wrought with whispering woods and musk rendering a glaucous patina.
via ebay
Pavilion on the other hand is a Lauder perfume in the floriental mold, more of a hothouse nursing nocturnal and exotic blossoms than a green impromptu garden with herbs and greenery the way Celadon is.
A more consciously graceful and ladylike fragrance, it ties with some of the elements of both Celadon and White Linen (but much more florals), while remaining its own thing. The sugared violet peters out in powder. The orange blossom takes a grape-like quality.
In retrospect it's hard to see how it would generate low sales, being all around likable, yet perhaps its very pleasantness might have signed off its death certificate; next to the blaring noon and hot metal rails of White Linen, this postcard sunset is too sentimental to really distinguish itself.
White Linen when faced with the zeitgeist's crossroads, vampy a la Magie Noire (Lancome) or innocent a la Anais Anais (Cacharel), chose the road less travelled by and that's why it's still among us today. Celadon by Estee Lauder has notes of aldehydes, galbanum, rose, green notes, floral notes, woods and musk.
Pavilion by Estee Lauder has notes of aldehydes, jasmine, orange blossom, violet, sandalwood, vanilla.
It's always a sad time when something one loves gets axed. The reasons why are usually varied, often beyond a company's control; change in allergens regulations, shift in raw materials supply, the break up with a trusted distributor, you name it. Le Labo hadn't stopped production on any of their scents in the past, but I was notified that one of their exclusives won't be with us for long. Merdre! So if you do love it, better stock up now.
"Barneys New York is closing their Dallas store on March 2nd and this saddens us as we loved our Le Labo counter there and loved our Dallas exclusive, Aldehyde 44, even more! After much debate, we have decided that if there is no Dallas, there can’t be any Aldehyde 44 and this perfume will therefore be discontinued...
To bid Dallas farewell, we will be selling Aldehyde 44 in all our stores and online at http://store.lelabofragrances.com/ during the month of March."
To understand the demise of Chunga is to realize that it is truly unmarketable in today's world: For a feminine perfume it flunks the test of being traditionally pretty or particularly becoming, demanding too much out of its wearer in both intelligence and attitude (After all it was advertised with the slogan "for women who want the world"). For a masculine (and men would be wise to try it if they can get their hands on some) it is an alien thing, being neither fresh -as is the majority of aquatic and aromatic fougeres around-, nor sexy -as are the orientalized woodies with succulent tonka and lots of sweet amber in the base. Maybe only Philip K. Dick replicas can wear Chunga by Weil right now, aside from dedicated perfumistas that is, which misses marketability points big time. But it's a shame, I can tell you that, because Chunga is a great fragrance coming from a great perfume house, the Weil fourruriers. (champions of the parfum fourrure notion)
The name comes from Micaela Flores Amaya, a Romani-born flamenco dancer known as "La Chunga" which translates as "the difficult woman"...and indeed the fragrance is somewhat "difficult" alright.
Introduced in 1977, Chunga comes in a string of great chypres with green elements and aldehydes that are elegantly assertive and resolutely determined: Chanel No.19, Lauder's Knowing, Coriandre by Jean Couturier, the first Jean Louis Scherrer fragrance. And thus lovers of the afore-mentioned perfumes are advised to seek out some Chunga for their collection.
In the print advertisements Chunga was targeting literally every woman and that included all races and all skin colors. A pioneering thought for a traditional French house! "Comme un nouvel horizon"...like a new horizon, which marked a new interest in encompassing more ethnicities in the game of perfume, reaping the benefits of feminine emancipation alongside the "black power" that emerged in the 1970s. Another set of print ads is tagged "et la fete commence" (i.e. and the celebration begins), showing a more typical couple in black tie in the midst of some dancing move, a more or less expected extension of perfume as a fashion accessory for a night out.
The olfactory structure of Chunga unfolds like a secret drawer within a drawer: The opening is aggressive, with its citric tang of bergamot and lemony tones sparkling like marble, with the particularly sharp incision of a scalpel, shiny and new and you think that it will remain arid and bitter and gloriously ingestible till the end, until the tables are turned and a second stage emerges. The base of Weil's Chunga is redolent of powdery amber, vetiver and a slightly urinous, honeyed, sweetish musky note that is quite retro; a throwback to days when bodies weren't deodorized to within an inch of their lives and hairy regions were much hairier than recent memory...on both sexes, that is.
The comparison with Weil's more popular and well-known, still-circulating-in-some-version-or-other Antilope perfume is not without its own value: Whereas Antilopeis lady-like and more properly floral and feminine in the heart notes, Chunga like its name is butcher, more incisive, with elements that translate as more masculine or sharper. My own bottle is marked Parfum de Toilette, which nicely puts in it the early 1980s.
Chunga was the last fragrance issued by the house in Weil in 1977 and has since become a discontinued rarity. For those with an interest in chronicling the arc of the green, aldehydic, perfume-y chypre, it's incomparable and worth the investment.
Embarking on Eau du Fier (2000), probably the most profoundly esoteric fragrance in the Annick Goutal perfume line, is like plunging yourself body & soul in the most smoky osmanthus-laced tea pot. It never really caught on, reverted quickly to the exclusive Parisian boutique salespoint and has been entirely discontinued now registering as very rare. A victim of its tough swagger and unconventionality. My own precious bottle was among the relatively older batches featured on the Parisian shelves from around 2005, but these shelves have dried up by now. The reason? Perfumer Isabelle Doyen had used a high level of natural birch tar, now banned by perfume industry self-regulatory body IFRA apart from its purified forms, and then in very small concentration.
But couldn't it be reformulated, mot clef du jour, using a purified grade of birch tar? Yes, it might. Sadly, the sales were never substantial enough to justify the trouble and cost of doing so. Eau du Fier, you see, is the most phenolic-smelling, the most tar-like, the most bitumen dripping on beautiful apricot-smelling petals evocative scent in existence.Though an unmissable must-smell and must-own for anyone (man or woman, it's technically marketed to men) who craves a dollop of tarry, leathery, pungent campfire scent in their perfume wardrobe, Eau du Fier isn't exactly a crowd pleaser, nor will it get you Miss Congeniality brownie points, here, in Paris or in the US. Like a song by songster Dionysis Savvopoulos says about Greece, "it forms its own galaxy". But it might get you attention from people who won't immediately connect it to perfume and that attention would be positive.
Fir (fier in French) and birch tar are at the core of Eau du Fier,a smell which concentrated at such a degree is so smoky, so acrid and so idiosyncratic in its intensely phenolic blast that it grabs you by the throat and whips you into attention. Phenolic scents (those containing phenols) are intense, smelling between black soot and barnyard; a horsey leathery pungency that is evident in natural essences of castoreum (a secretion from beavers) , narcissus and of course in birch tar, i.e. literally "cooked" birch wood that produces that famous waterproofing agent that was originally the source of Russian Leathe/Cuir de Russie. It's no coincidence Eau du Fier is like Russian Caravan tea (and Tibetan Lapsang Souchong, much like Bvlgari Black); associations work that way.
The opening of Eau du Fier can be likened to dry and decidedly non-animalic macho images of riders in the plains, cooking on an open campfire, much like in Sonoma Scent Studio Fireside Intense or Lonestar Memories by Tauer. Or a racing pit, hot with the scents of competition and tires melting. Less barnyard and more open-air atmosphere, here with a slice of orange peel to reinforce the resinous-smelling and dry/clean feel. It borders on the divisive smell of rubber with a serving of bitter orange reminiscent of pure frankincense.
But the initial smokiness in Eau du Fier is soon mollified by an apricot note that recalls osmanthus flower, a material with naturally fruity-peachy-lactonic facets. This stage is comparable in feel ~if not smell~ to the smoother, yummier intersection in the just recently discontinued Tea for Two fragrance by L'Artisan Parfumeur (also from 2000): the trick is done with gingerbread in the latter, giving a spicy-gourmand edge to the smoky black tea notes on top. In the Goutal, this fruity stage is pleasantly sweet, contrasting with the introduction and playing hide & seek on the skin with the butcher elements. Daim Blond by Serge Lutens reprises the suede and apricot trick, but whereas there the effect is a spilling off her cleavage alto, here it's a bone-vibrating bass.
Bottom-line: Eau du Fier is probably the most tar-like smell this side of Tauer's Lonestar Memories and an uncharacteristic specimen in the typically airy & prettily feminine Goutal stable. Along withSables, one of the most original and boldest Annick Goutal fragrances and a thouroughbred that should be featured in any self-respecting collection, even if you only occasionally put it on your skin.
Many have lamented the passing of successful fragrances, artistically masterful and commercially popular, and one always wonders why this happens. L'Artisan Parfumeur has its own share of that (I'm still inwardly yielding my fist with rage at the discontinuation of Oeillet Sauvage and Jacinthe des Bois; both lovely, both initially limited editions and then brought into the main line in total uniformity with the rest of the bottles, a move which promised at least a marital contract and then derailed into a custody figh with plates thrown around).
Vanilia which gave its place to Vanille Absolument (or Havana Vanille as the successor was originally launched; it's hard to keep track, but we did announce the discontinuing there on the link first) was the proverbial straw which broke the camel's back. It seemed most uncomprehensible and caused a rucous online.
But now L'Artisan Parfumeur is axing another oldie with a cult following, namely Tea for Two(2000).
I fear for some of the quirkier/slower seller favourites along the line as well (Navegar, L'Eau de Navigateur, Dzing!).
I understand the need for a streamlined line-up and all that, it aids selection, but perhaps a more limited distribution or a special size for collectors or even a seasonal re-issue (like Clinique does with Wrappings every Christmas) would be appreciated by those who dearly love the fragrance in the first place.
Question: Is L'Artisan Parfumeur growing too corporate for its own good?
Some women float over the floor rather than walk on it. There's a sweeping elegance and drama about them that you almost think all motion stops when they pass under the doorframe. Cialenga by Balenciaga is like that: Classically beautiful, aloofly superior, it's arresting and mysterious, but never going for outright wiles of seduction. This isn't a hearty blonde to laught out loud at your joke, but an icy cool Hitchockian heroine. Possibly with thick arched brows and a grey suit, besides a shady past, to show. Don't let the smile fool you...
History Cialenga was launched by Balenciaga in 1973, composed by perfumer Jacques Jantzen. The name is rather cryptic; his only other known credential is collaboration on another Balenciaga perfume, Ho Hang for men (1971). But his history spans decades of shrouded work: His is Helena Rubinstein's 1946 Command Performance.
The green chypres with floral hearts signified a more assertive and sophisticated angularity than the curvier lactonic florals of the 1950s and early 1960s and ushered in the new woman, the one who worked, took the pill and wore the pants. The dry, somewhat acrid quality of this genre is expressed in a dark manner in Cialenga, manifesting itself as among the more noir of the lot with a balance of green, spice and wood, just like a well judged cocktail of Martini wits, kinky sex references and sharply-cut tailleurs.
Comparison with Other Fragrances & Scent Description
The most apt comparison of Cialenga with any well-known perfume would be with vintage No.19 by Chanel. The way No.19 used to be, before being somewhat declawed. In Cialenga the green harmony is more aldehydic (recalling that segment from Paco Rabanne's Calandre) and soapy,while the overall character is decidely mustier than the Chanel and with quite a bit of spice added (clove and coriander prominently to my nose). The jasmine takes on a nuance between creamy and soapy, with no sugar floralcy as in more familiar sketches of floral chypres; the aldehydes do not take center stage.
The angularity of the green notes recalls the top note of Vent Vert in the vintage parfum (so full of galbanum), while the spicy warmth with an added myrrh tonality is all dark corners of a Spanish monastery in the New World and dangerous brunettes turned blondes with a death wish.
A little goes a long way and it's trailing at least down the elevator doors, so a small quantity should last you a long time; good thing, as Cialegna, like all vintage Balenciaga perfumes, is discontinued and nowadays quite rare. Few specimens crop up on ebay from time to time.
Notes for Balenciaga Cialenga:
Top: citrus, black currant,green notes
Heart: iris, jasmine, ylang-ylang, clove, tincture of rose and lily
Base: vetiver, sandalwood, patchouli, oakmoss and Virginia cedar.
photo still of Kim Novak in Alfred Hitchcock's Vertigo via the ace black blog
This review is dedicated to Armani/Michael who introduced me to this fragrance and who had a thing for Kim Novak's brows in Vertigo :-)
The Tom Ford Private Blend has always been a "niche" sub-line within a brand, exclusives with a high price tag and an invested interest on the part of the discerning consumer who searches for the elusive & the hard to get. In the process, and in view of the updating of the line with the upcoming Santal Blush and Jasmin Rouge, we thought of compiling a list of the fragrances and the discontinuations within.
The axing happened supposedly because Tom originally thought of the line as a "chop & build project" (much like the Aqua Allegoria Guerlain line at a different price point), where fragrances would be regularly discontinued in order to make place for new ones. It sounds plausible, although, curiously enough, it's the slow sellers (irrespective of artistic merit) which get axed. But never mind.
As of this minute (will be updating this), the discontinued Tom Ford Private Blend fragrances are:
Bois Rouge Japon Noir Moss Breches Purple Patchouli Velvet Gardenia
Edit to add: As of spring 2012, Bois Marocain and Ambre Absolute are also discontinued.
So are all the Musks fragrances (i.e. Jasmine Musk, Pure Musk, Urban Musk) with the exception of White Suede.
The regular Tom Ford fragrance line on the other hand (available at major department stores) includes: Black Orchid, Black Orchid Voile de Fleur (a flanker with a different scent, not just concentration, than the original, which is getting harder to find, read on), Tom Ford for Men, Tom Ford Extreme, Grey Vetiver, White Patchouli and Violet Blonde. Out of those Voile de Fleur has been discontinued according to the official site by Tom Ford.
New releases for 2012 include Tom Ford Noir for Men.
You're encouraged to send me news re: availability of these fragrances, so I can keep the list updated.
I don't know if writing has the power to change the world, but it might have the power to halt certain small enterprises from pushing product to interested members: Mona di Orio has been steadily producing fragrances that are really unusual and -many of them- beautiful, but after a long deliberation she has decided to stop her original line in favour of focusing on her new one, Les Nombres d'Or (Cuir, Ambre, Musc and recently Vetyver, Vanille and Tubereuse) . Therefore, if you have been a fan of Jabu, Chamarre, Nuit Noire, Amyitis, Lux, Oiro, or Carnation, you should hang on to your bottles. (My friend Gaia has posted reviews of almost the entire house, if you don't know anything about it)
The news come from the official Mona di Orio Facebook page and are uncontestable:
"To be able to broaden the Les Nombres d’Or line in the future, to provide a service excellence and having the adequate stock levels we have decided, for the time being, to discontinue the Grey Collection and focus on the Les Nombres d’Or line. We hope and trust you will understand and respect our decision. We know we have to disappoint some of our loyal followers and believers since day one, but we are convinced that the new Mona di Orio fragrances will give you pleasure, passion and surprises. High Quality materials and a unique approach of classics in the perfumerie. We have stock of some references (not all) available for ordering, please check at your local retailer or at info@monadiorio.com for final deliveries."
Beware of the celebrity endorsement; it might get you in trouble hunting for rare, long lost treasures to the detriment of your wallet: The first time I became seriously intriguied by Inouï was upon reading an interview of Greek singer Anna Vissi, more than a dozen years ago, declaring her longing for a bottle of this discontinued Shiseido scent: "If anyone still got a bottle, I'm paying double for it". Makes a girl move earth and sky to find some, doesn't it! Inoui, or rather Inouï with the requisite umlaut, launched by Shiseido in 1976 and quickly vanished from the market in the late 1980s, its quirky name meaning unprecedented in the sense of stunningly gorgeous.
Stunningly gorgeous it might not be exactly, as I reserve this characterisation for truly seminal fragrances or those which exhibit a daring concordance of vision and orchestration, but the drops resting on my collarbone speak of its beauty in no uncertain terms: Inouï prettifies everything it touches, even though it belongs to the old-school austere, cool greens of the ilk of Chanel No.19, Alliage, Diorella, Calèche and Shiseido's own Koto which are crepuscularly silver, rarely breaking a smile, surely alien ~ in the letter of the law~ to my own warm-blooded, passionate Mediterranean nature.
There is nothing really warm or conventionally seductive about Inouï , the bitter galbanum resin and chilled alοof florals giving a Brechtian detachment, a sort of stoic Britannic phlegm even on the face of the gravest tragedy; or maybe -more plausibly- it's just the Japanese aesthetic of keeping one's cool and always appearing composed. At the time Shiseido was not yet in collaboration with Serge Lutens, the maestro who would bring Gallic passion to the Eastern refinement with Nombre Noir and all the rest of their collaborative opus, and suppposedly the company was meaning to break up with their oriental tradition at the same time, hence the name of the fragrance one would assume:
'An international product developed by the joint efforts of Shiseido staff in Japan, the U.S. and Italy, Inoui was introduced in 1976. Under the sales theme of the “New Working Woman,” the image was of a new woman with a cosmopolitan mind. She lived a beautiful lifestyle of jazz dance, yoga, jogging and other new activities of the time, while easily handling her work as well. “It's not her beauty. It's her lifestyle.” clearly expresses the concept behind the product.'
Thus ran the official blurb on the fragrance on the US site.Somehow it doesn't sound very fetching to me. I can think of better things. But times have changed; back then "modern" woman apparently dreamed about the "beautiful lifestyle of jazz dance, yoga, jogging and other new activities, while easily handling her work as well".
Yet history disproves this assertion of breaking with tradition: Saso and Myth of Saso, other Shiseido rarities, are unusual and unpliable with no "lifestyle" concept behind them, yet roughly contemporaries. But for every Saso there's a Koto; easy, breezy, refreshingly cool for active lives, so Shiseido is obviously consciously catering to a multitude of women and respective markets. Later on, the Japanese company launched a make-up line by the same name (and the follow-up, Inoui ID) which was put into stunning visuals by Lutens himself, the choreographing of the models an exercise in cobra mesmerising human eyes.
Inouï is a fragrance which, underneath the crashed stems and sap, lives and breathes in human form and yes, warms up somewhat with an exquisite jasmine heart, halfway between birth and rot, flanked by the pungent accent of herbal thyme, like a seasoned woman who knows what she wants and what she's capable of. This is why it feels at a crossroads between floral chypre and green floral; but Inoui is friendlier than angular No.19 by Chanel, soapier and sweeter than Alliage by Lauder and less BCBG than HermèsCalèche. It's so pretty, deep and undemanding that it poses a mystery on why it got axed so soon! Then again, might we recall the dire straits of Paco Rabanne's Calandre; who knew such an easy, loveable fragrance would become hard to get!
The opening accord in Shiseido Inouï is sap-like, crushed greens with a hint of soapy aldehydes and at the same time reminiscent of the lemon-peach top chord of classic Diorella: fresh, but registered an octave below, mossier. Soon the warmth of ripe jasmine anchors the peachy lactonic notes and gives oomph, fleshing the sketch of the greens and deepening the feminine impression. The impression of green floral sustains itself cuddled by a lightly mysterious base, like that in Y by Yves Saint Laurent, deepening as time passes, mingled perfectly in one unified chord, while its murmur is only audible to those who come close by.
Vintage batches (the only kind, really, since Inoui is long discontinued) crop up sometimes online, for really huge prices somewhat unjustifiably. Those which retain a fresh, green floral and a tad soapy note have kept well. If your catch smells sour, you've been out of luck: the perfume deteriorated through the years. There is an eau de parfum version and an extrait de parfum in sparse, architectural bottles, both worthy additions to a distinguished perfume collection.
Notes for Shiseido Inoui :
Top: Galbanum, Peach, Juniper, Lemon, Green Accord
Heart: Pine Needles, Freesia, Thyme, Jasmin
Base: Cedarwood, Myrrh, Musk, Civet, Oakmoss
Since it's such a rarity, one sample out of my own personal stash goes out to one lucky reader. Please comment on what appeals to this genre to qualify.
According to live reportage at a US boutique which stocks jewelry and fragrances from Les Néréides, "créateurs de bijoux haute fantasie", (and what's more, who buy their stock directly from the company as well), several fragrances in the line are getting discontinued. The reasons might have to do with low turnover as well as impending restrictions that would necessitate too much hassle to reformulate; it doesn't really matter. What matters is that the niche sector is regularly weeding out fragrances as well, as evidenced on these pages before.
The only Les Nereides fragrances remaining in production, according to above mentioned source, are going to be: Opoponax,Patchouli Antique,Oriental Lumpur and Musc de Samarkand. An up to date cursory glance at the official site reveals Douceur de Vanille being in stock, available for sale, while Musc de Samarkand is not.
The rest are definitely going the way of the dodo! If you are intent on some of them, stock up now or take a walk at your local TJMaxx/TKMaxx where some might surface eventually.
thanks to poppypatchouli/POL for drawing my attention to it
Composed in 1987, Aria by Missoni is predictably as big as a house. In the 1980s, you see, fragrances announced themselves from around the block like a fat man with a protruding belly and you could smell them down the office corridor too long after the cleaning ladies had picked up after the staff (Missoni themselves had the now discontinued ~and replaced by a completely different animal by the same name~ Missoni by Missoni from 1982). For a fruity floral, the olfactory category equivalent of the shy type at the party who wants to blend in, yet appear a bit flirty like all the other girls, Aria is an unlikely candidate, a masquerade of a bold floral which dons a silly pineapple hair clip in case anyone takes her too seriously.
By no means dissonant, Aria is an euphoric big burst of a bubblegum actually, so suffused with flavourful florals and flowery fruits that it's easy to lose track and imagine things that are not there. The image of a giant, juicy fuschia bubblegum derives from the pink jasmine used, plus ylang ylang, which is buttressed by banana-pineaplle and peachy-lactonic notes. One edge is sweet, the other edge is rather tangy and the combined effect is melodious and expansive; the best of both worlds, really.
Aria never really caught many ears or noses at its time, probably because the brand wasn't particularly in your face and kept an elegant but vivacious Italian tricot profile, i.e. it never caught on the American market. Or it might have to do with the ugly bottle, a plain glass phial toped by a sincerely plastic purple cap that could adorn Debbie Gibson's Electric Youth or something. It just didn't feel like luxury, from the looks of it. Today, Aria by Missoni is discontinued, like much else from that time-frame: now that fruity florals are a dime a dozen it sounds like it's a shameful loss of especially good, happy jingles.
You can find old stock at stockists/online discounters or auction sites. There's even some at Amazon right now.
Notes for Missoni Aria:
Top notes: lemon, bergamot, pineapple, banana, raspberry, peach
Heart notes: carnation, tuberose, jasmine, ylang-ylang, lily-of-the-valley, rose
Base notes: sandalwood, tonka bean, amber, musk, vanilla and cedar.
A proud in its weirdness creation by nose Ilias Ermenides from 1990, this fragrance is now discontinued. Why bother trace it, you might ask: I like to talk about bygones; I’m really old beyond my biological years it seems, that embellishing, idealistic reminiscence being characteristic of older people, as stated very early indeed in the work of Aristotle’s “Nicomachean Ethics”.
And yet in the world of perfume everyone does it, I’ve noticed. Nary does one read a perfume forum where people don’t say with contempt “today’s perfumes are nothing like they used to be”. That would be a logical conclusion though, wouldn’t it? How is something so elusive by nature, so fleeting, so ephemeral, so closely tied to the zeitgeist as perfume not capable of following the times? And yet, the nostalgia about perfumes we have not even smelled overwhelms us and sometimes we let ourselves believe the golden age of Saturn has bypassed us and the future is all gloom.
Byblos is named after such a Saturnian concept of bygones, the ancient city of Phoenicia which was the centre for the trade of Lebanese cedar wood to Egypt back in 3200BC. Cedar was used in perfumery even back then, although it had other practical uses as well, such as mummification. The Phoenicians were famously the inventors of the alphabet, which was later taken by the Greeks and with the addition of vowels turned into the first real alphabet in the history of the world. Pity Phoenicians only used it for commercial purposes and not literature or science. They were the Marketing majors of the ancient world it seems, not the Bachelor of Art ones.
The fragrance of Byblos by Byblos however distances itself from both the name (which is after all merely the Italian clothing company’s brand name) and the cedarwood smell. On the contrary it gives the impression of peppery/spicy fruits! The opening of peach and cassis (a synthetic berry note) is tangy with the bittersweet grapefruit and mandarin rind smell. It goes on into a dense, rich mimosa and marigold scent that floats above the raspberry, musky base. It’s as if it invites you to bite, only to find the hotness has singed your tongue. But don’t be afraid: this is no Caron Poivre; it’s rather tame for that but still interesting. The cobalt blue bottle shaped like an ancient pyxis, a ceramoplastic type of clay vessel that was used for storing unguents or jewels, is topped with a most original stopper of a golden “plate” with an open flower in light peach pink on top. To be sampled, at least once.
Notes for Byblos by Byblos: Top: bergamot, mandarin, black currant, grapefruit, pepper, peach Heart: mimosa, lily-of-the-valley, lily, honeysuckle, violet and iris. Base: red fruits, vetiver, musk, raspberry, heliotrope.
Anyone who receives the Guerlain catalogue for the year has witnessed a change in one of the most acclaimed lines in the historic brand's portfolio, namely Les Parisiennes, the depository of the older creations by Jean-Paul Guerlain and other perfumers working for the brand, producing a range that is esteemed as refined luxury. A change which unfolds three ways: Two additions to the line (one ressurected from a limited edition of 10 years ago, the other slightly less), some discontinuations and a new look for the masculine side of the venerable stable.
To be specific...
Two additions in Guerlain "Les Parisiennes" boutique-only line (125 ml including removable atomizer for 180 €):
Nuit de Amour we had announced being re-issued and joining Les Parisiennes in the standard "bee bottle" instead of the original quadrilobea while ago on this article. Now comes Cherry Blossom eau de toilette. Originally a limited edition from 2000 in the Louis XV flacon(seen above) that also housed Apres L'Ondee extrait, it was created for the sakura season that is celebrated in Japan. [There was also Cherry Blossom Delight from 1999]. The Guerlain fragrance included cherry blossom, green tea and lemon notes to honor the oriental tradition of lightness and happiness at the coming of spring. The re-issued fragrance was originally signed by Jean Paul Guerlain and is not to be confused with the Aqua Allegoria line's Cherry Blossom (pic when you click here), another interpretation of sakura complimented by a whole makeup collection by the same name issued in spring 2010 .
Two discontinuations in Guerlain "Les Parisiennes" boutique-only line:
The other fragrance regretably missing is Philtre d'Amour, which we also had hinted in perfume discussion online that it would be pulled off the market in the near future, the reason being its formula not being possible to conform to IFRA restrcitions (read more on those here).
Of course there is also the by now rare super-refined (chypre-smelling) Plus Que Jamais missing, but we knew that already.
A new look for the masculine "Les Parisiens" (100 ml for 175 €), now Les Exclusifs:
Joining the wooden "frame" of Arsène Lupin Dandy and Arsène Lupin Voyou (both in Eau de Parfum and described on this article), the masculine side of the exclusive line by Guerlain becomes homogenised in looks and stated as Les Exclusifs. The former members of Les Parisiennes intended for the delight of discerning gentlement now will not be featured in the dainty glass bottles with the boule cap and the bees but will come in the more virile-looking oblongs instead. Thus the Guerlain Les Parisiennes line for men (or is it Les Parisiens?) will comprise:
*Derby (eau de toilette) *Chamade pour Homme (eau de toilette) *L'Âme d'un Héros eau de toilette (formerly known as Coriolan *Arsène Lupin Dandy (eau de parfum) and *Arsène Lupin Voyou (eau de parfum).
The price per ml is thus rather significantly raised (125 ml for 180€ for the feminine Les Parisiennes vs 100 ml for 175€ for the masculines), a feat not completely justified by the change in packaging I feel.
NB. The international site hasn't been renovated yet to reflect the changes.
A full review & draw for Arsène Lupin Dandy shortly!
Although only one out of the triad issued by Baccarat is known among perfume aficionados, Les Larmes Sacrées de Thèbes, the collection by the venerable verrerie (crystal makers) included two other worthy specimens: Un Certain été à Livadia and Une Nuit Étoilée au Bengale. All three formed Les Contes d'Ailleurs trilogy (Tales from Faraway lands) which reprised oriental themes, seducing and enrapturing, allowing the perfumer unrestrained choice in materials and composition. The occasion was to commemorate the new millenium and thus Baccarat commissioned three precious limited edition perfumes that would honour their patrimony in flacons of heavy crystal. Christine Nagel undertook the task of formula creation, at the time just entering Quest France and given carte blanche as to the commerciability of the fragrances: These were going to be Limited Editions for collectors and not focus-group marketing productions! Colombian-born Fédérico Restrepo was the flacon designer for the parfum bottles and each parfum bottle bore its own certificate of authenticity and lot number. There were only 1500 specimens issued for each of the Baccarat perfumes. Original prices were 880 euros for 30ml/1oz of pure parfum/extrait de parfum. All three fragrances however also had an Eau de Parfum version in a plainer bottle, as depicted on the bottom of this article, retailing for 400$ for 75ml/2.5oz, at the time available at Bergdorf's and Harrods (they are now discontinued and out of stock). Please note that the design of the EDP bottle has been accused of aiding evaporation.
Une Nuit Étoilée au Bengale (A Starry Night in Bengal) was the first perfume, inspired by India palaces and gardens, issued in 1997. The bottle is a blue-shaped heart with an outsprout of green, like curling stems of a mysterious plant or water sprouting out of an exotic garden fountain. The whole is resting inside a Π-shaped construction of transparent crystal with stars of gold designed on it. The whole is encased in a deep blue box with zigurat steps on it, recalling the maharajahs palaces of India (the maharajahs had been great crystal customers in their time).
The fragrance itself is an ambery floriental with spicy accents: Une Nuit Étoilée au Bengale is comprised of a citrus top of bergamot, segueing into rose, with a cluster of spices: ginger, cinnamon, and Ceylon "spice bouquet". The bottom is rich and sumptuous with notes of Mysore sandalwood, amber and vanilla.
There are no samples available for purchase at the moment, as far as I know. Apart from the ultra costly parfum version, there was the Eau de Parfum concentration circulating in a plainer bottle with a drop-style applicator (pic below). Both are discontinued and very rare.
Les Larmes Sacrées de Thèbes(Sacred Tears of Thebes) was inspired by Egypt and the wares of King Tut's tomb and was issued in 1998. The bottle is ~predictably~ a puramidal structure capped in amethyst crystal, with a fine "bubble" of yellow crystal blown into it, which houses the scent. It sits on amethyst cushion feet on the four edges. The whole is encased in a square bottle of egg yolk yellow for the innner carton and amethyst for the outer carton (see pic at the beginning of the article).
The fragrance, although an homage to Egyptian rituals, is by no means a replication of those alloys like other projects (see this one on Kyphi and others by Sandrine Videault) but a modern perfume. It is however predominantly resinous and balsamic with a peppery top note, focusing on intense myrrh, frankincense and a deep amber mix, flanked by jasmine, geranium, ylang ylang, cardamon, basil, myrtle, sandalwood and musk. Although compared to Parfum Sacré by Caron (1990), the resemblance is only passing, Les Larmes being much more balsamic with less of a rosy heart than the Caron. Les Larmes is the best-known fragrance in the Baccarat triptych, possibly due to its optically approachable, exquisite bottle and the fact that it has been repeatedly hailed as among the most expensive perfumes in the world at 6,800$ in the press; largely thanks to the bottle.
Harrods Haute Parfumerie stocked a few remaining specimens, although info claims that reserves have been by now dried up. The Perfumed Court has samples of the Eau de Parfum concentration for sale for those curious to investigate for themselves.
Please be aware that the hereby pictured exquisite presentation isn't the only one: There is an EDP bottle (click on this link) with a plainer design which retailed for 400$ for 75ml/2.5oz of Eau de Parfum at Bergdorf's in the past, as noted for the rest of the trio as well.
Un Certain été à Livadia (A Certain Summer in Livadia) was inspired by Russia and the Imperial Court and was issued in 1999. The bottle takes on the "onion"-shaped domes of classic Russian Orthodox churches, with a starry " gold cross" on top and green crystal, and superimposes it on a red "body", housing the perfume, which rests in turn on a curved "boomerang" shaped crustal base with Russian lettering. The whole rests on a red base, encased in a red round box. Livadia is of course was the place in the Crimea where the palace of the last tsar Nicholas II was situated, later seized by the Bolsheviks and now transformed into a museum. Un Certain été à Livadia received the prize of Best Perfume of 1999 for Christine Nagel 's work, awarded by a jury of French journalists (info according to her mentor's, Jean Claude Ellena, archives). The fragrance is centered around a blooming orientalised/musky heart of seringat (i.e. Philadelphus, a plant of white-petaled blossoms with a scent between orange blossom and jasmine; also known as "jasmin des poètes"). The top introduces complimentary hesperidic notes of citruses while the base is comprised by a soft, enveloping musk accord.
There are no samples available for purchase as of this moment. Rare specimens of the bottle crop up online from time to time, with an estimate of between 500-700$ for a bottle, although Ebay auctions have occasionally demanded 1200euros with ambiguous results. Also circulated in Eau de Parfum concentration as seen below. It is of course discontinued and out of stock.
One of the major pitfalls that awaits a perfume enthusiast is for them to disregard valued, glamorous specimens of the past due to the merely trendy attire of the brand hosting them in the present. Coty and their Imprévu is a case in point! Miles away from the current celebuttante fruit-salads they serve now, Imprévu is a meaty course that still retains a degree of refinement; it's fine veal served with silver tableware. The delicious name, meaning "unforeseen", predisposes for a surprising impression and indeed this feminine leathery woody chypre from 1965 is unprecedented, unique and surprising in more than one way. They had it right when they advertised: "Beyond all expectations"!
The timing in which Imprévu was introduced is crucial: On the one hand the Coty house had passed through the Symplegades of both the Great Depression and World War II and emerged still resilient, if diminished in radiance. François Coty's divorced wife had a brother-in-law, Philippe Cotnareanu, who was immersed in the business. Cotnareanu changed his name to Philip Cortney and under that pseudonym took rein of the colossal portfolio. Coty and Coty International were eventually sold to Chas. Pfizer & Co. for about $26 million in 1963, thus becoming divisions in the pharmaceuticals company's consumer products group. The 1965 launch was Coty's new perfume in 25 years! Success was almost immediate: By the end of 1968 Imprévu became the leading Coty fragrance. On the other hand, Imprévu, composed by an unsung perfumer, also came at an opportune time in the global perfume zeitgeist: A time when greener and aldehydic scents were very popular: Yves St. Laurent had launched his glorious Y in 1964, while Guy Laroche issued the green tropical Fidji in 1966. The older favourites, Chanel No.5 and Miss Dior, were still best-sellers. But the not so griffe market presented considerable competition as well: Avon was going strong with Topaze, and Fabergé with the antithetical earthy Woodhue. Imprévu was perfect for the moment! It's an irony and a testament to the changing tastes in fashion however that rather soon the strike of gold was at an end: Emeraude, L'Origan and L'Aimant became the long-standing classics in the Coty portfolio after the 1980s, condemning Imprévu in the disgrace of being practically given away at drugstores who sold it at seriously discounted prices. The above nevertheless is no reflection on the fragrance's value whatsoever.
Imprévu (pronounced ahm-pre-VHU) by Coty is decidedly adult, like a long sip of extra dry martini when you know you really shouldn't or the deliberate "poisonous" smear of lipstick on a man's colar. It explores several themes of yore and does so with unrefuted elegance: From the aldehydic boosting of the crisp citrus (bergamot, bitter orange) opening, reminiscent of Coty's own Chypre (the latter is fresher and somewhat more piquant overall), to the mildly leathery heart, all the way down to the foresty conifers that hide beneath the abstract flowers. Like some classic fragrances in the cuir family (notably Tabac Blond by Caron) the tannic facet of leather is boosted and contrasted by the merest touch of cloves, registered to the mind as carnation. Overall fresh in that mossy way that classic chypres are fresh rather than cloying, the scent is very well-mannered despite the earthy oakmoss inclusion. What stays on the skin poised for long when the other elements have dissipated is the creamy woodiness of that drydown phase of Bois des Îles by Chanel.
Neither too woody nor leathery, nor too chypre, but striking a perfect balance between all those elements, Imprévu comes as the unexpected state of grace when you simply don't know what to choose and just need something that is truly unique and smells good at the same time. Even though marketed as a feminine, men who are adventurous wouldn't have trouble getting away with it.
Although the usual bottle in which it is presented is the one depicted here and in the ads (which show the extrait de parfum version), other styles were also circulating, notably one with a simple gold-toned cap and a simple glass flacon with gold-tone lettering or another one with a simple plastic blue cover (especially for the versions circulating in Europe) Imprévu by Coty has been discontinued for a long time now, with no plans by the company to bring it back as per our latest communication. Occasional sighthings are made on Ebay at elevated prices.
It's rather with a heavy heart that I bring myself to report news of discontinuations, especially of popular fragrances. But even though a dirty job, someone has to do it...and give a spin to them, when needed to nuance news. The latest contender is the very popular and fairly recently introduced (2007) Note Vanillée by M.Micallef, which is no longer carried on Luckyscent. Note Vanillée includes top notes of tangerine and hesperides, seguing to middle notes of jasmine and honey and finishing on a blend of sandalwood, amber, bourbon vanilla, cognac and rum. It strikes a no man's land between boozy, citrusy and floral. On the other hand the official site of M.Micallef still lists Note Vanillée as usual. It is therefore with some itrigue that I am revealing that a new enterprise of M.Micallef USA is going to be slowly unveiled very soon as per my sources, which means they're withdrawing from distribution so as to rebrand themselves.
A sense of panic ensued when we broke the news of Serge Lutens discontinuations the other day and quite justifiably, I'd wager. It's not everyday that an iconic niche line known for their attention to detail needs to halt one of their lauded fragrances. I feel like I need to assuage the fears a little bit and at the same time implement the news with something a little disheartening again, since another source (thanks!) informed me of the following interesting facts:
The discontinuations are planned for the export line only, meaning it's basically a US-discontinuation (my original source was of American interests): the four export fragrances will revert to their alma mater, Les Salons du Palais Royal, thus becoming Paris exclusives (much as Miel de Bois currently is) but the important thing is that apart from Miel de Bois, Chypre Rouge, and Douce Amère the fourth is Santal Blanc and NOT Clair de Musc! This puts a new spin on things, as Clair de Musc had us all wonder why it was getting axed. Of course in a way this last bit of news is even worse, as Santal Blanc is a seriously lovely, quite underrated fragrance and one which cannot be easily found on other price points... Luckily the discontinuations will take place at a further date (supposedly next year), so there is still time to stock up if needed.
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