Perfumer Christine Nagel's style could be likened to an Italian sunset. Probably has to do with her paternal Italian side. The bleeding of the colors into the sky and the transformation of dusk into darkness could be compared with her inimitable mastery at blending luminous and bright notes into chords which resonate deeper and darker as the scent develops throughout time. You're never on a simple path with her perfumes, such as the stupendous Maboussin, the balsamic wonder of Les Larmes Sacrees de Thèbes among her limited edition perfume trio for Baccarat,or the intricately sweet Si fragranceby Giorgio Armani, and of course the stupendous Theorema by Fendi, a case study in how to make a non threatening oriental fragrance.
and there's always something to discover in the process.
I find this quality quite enjoyable in her latest creation, Twilly by Hermès, the house Nagel now acts as in-house perfumer for.
double exposure photography artwork by Antonio Mora via
Although Twilly d'Hermès possesses that optimistic flair (via its fresh citrusy opening) that people find more summery than wintery, I find that the composition veers into another direction very, very quickly thanks to the brilliant combination of fresh ginger and a floralcy which is hard to pinpoint (official sources say tuberose, but it's a totally unexpected kind of tuberose). A kaleidoscope of green, floral, and even earthy and woody nuances pass before your nostrils in quick succession, as if buoyed by the golden light of a glorious afternoon full of grace when everything seems to happily melt unto itself.
Twilly d'Hermès doesn't remind me of any other fragrance I know (which is remarkable in itself) and it's playful enough and light enough to appeal to younger women without appearing condescending in the least. Nevertheless, its very memorability lies in the delicate and rather sophisticated interweaving of fresh spiciness and carnal sensuality without recalling any particular genre: is it spicy floral? is it a citrusy woody? is it floral woody musky? It's a puzzle, but a good one.
Her last two fragrances for Hermes showcase the treatment of light and delicate juxtaposition. Eau de Rhubarbe Ecarlate is a study in this duality, whereupon the succulent yet fresh rhubard note is envelopped in high-tech musks to give a persistent buzz like a bubblebee around nectarous blossoms. And Galop, for all its deluxe price, does not smell like it's trying too hard; a bet lost by many of the luxury segment brands nowadays, who, intent on presenting something posh, lose the golden measure and load the perfume with insurmountable heaviness. Galop, on the contrary, breathes!
Twilly increases its appeal with repeated wearings, so I suggest you give it some thorough testing before pronouncing a definitive assessment. It's young and probably not too serious in intent, but we all have our heavyweights for the days we want to immerse ourselves in existential ennui I suppose.
“The house smelled musty and damp, and a little sweet, as if it were haunted by the ghosts of long-dead cookies.”
~Neil Gaiman, American Gods
Smelling the little known Gardenia by the Florentine pharmacy brand of Santa Maria Novella, thanks to the inquisitive generosity of a special reader, I am reminded not of cookies exactly, but of cachous, the French candies that are composed of minty, bitter elements (minus their licorice), and of another candy conflated, popular with elder ladies, those chalky rounds flavored with violet and aniseed but seemingly without much sugar. Gardenia, you see, has the rare ability to go for the effect of not one, but two candies at the same time, eschewing allusions to syrupy delights, as it goes about its business; more the ghost of candies past than real ones.
But that's half the story. In Gardenia there's detectable camphor on top, a hint of mothballs, surely lent by either a small tuberose facet (close kin to natural gardenia, but its advantage is that contrary to gardenia it can be sufficiently extracted), or via organic chemistry.
The mushroom dampness that evolves in a potted gardenia plant surfaces too in the Santa Maria Novella perfume (much like it did in the since discontinued Velvet Gardenia in Tom Ford's Private Line of fragrances), the earthiness of the soil in which the stems grow, the greenery, the humid air of the tropics that is its natural habitat. The end result smells little of the total that makes a lifelike gardenia perfume (all the more so a soliflore, a fragrance imitating the scent of a single flower), highlighting in odd focus elements of the live gardenia, like a super-sized vision through a microscope, germs appearing like monsters of the abyss or engulfing other micro-organisms via tentacle-like arms and legs: the green, the undergrowth, the musty note, the camphor….they're there in giga size. It also adds elements that are unfamiliar to our perception of the gardenia plant, copious ionones, smelling like violets & wood, and anethole (the molecule recognizable in anise).
It feels green & mauve, not white. It's demure long dresses in dove grey rather than a silky top over a hugging the curves pencil skirt. It's unkempt chestnut hair in matted tresses rather than glossy waves licking bronzed shoulders. It's John Dowland's I saw my lady weep, not Manuel de Falla. It's melancholy with a dash of neglect and abandonment, rather than boiling passions. To me at least.
For a photo-realistic gardenia fragrance you need to access either the discontinued Yves Rocher Pur Desir de Gardenia (in which the effect is rendered via jasmolactones) or Estee Lauder's Private Collection Tuberose Gardenia (in which the latter floral effectively upstages the usually diva- esque former one). Santa Maria Novella's Gardenia is an atypical one, a "difficult" to get scent but quite interesting all the same, and probably better appreciated as an earthy, non sweet violet scent trampled in undergrowth than the waxy petaled white flower of the tropics that induces ultra-romantic reverie.
(For one such, read a different take by Jane Daly)
the Navagio beach on Zakynthos/Zante island in Greece
"In Lebanon, at the border with Israel, there is a turtle sanctuary. It is the result of being a protected area during the civil war. The almost extinct Mediterranean sea turtle was allowed to flourish. This is something good that came out of the war. This is poetry. I have gone through my own corporeal civil war and TURTLE is my sanctuary and celebration".
~Michael H Shamberg
"Outlaw Perfume in Progress" sounds like contraband that is waiting to change hands in some faraway country full of sailors with dirty pea-coats. But in reality it is Turtle Vetiver by Les Nez, perfumer Isabelle Doyen's contribution to the creative network Turtle salon, "an anarchic salon", masterminded by Michael H.Shamberg. The quirky, poetic and catchy name brought me memories of the endangered caretta caretta turtles (the loggerhead turtles) ~one of the oldest species in the world, alive when dinosaurs roamed the planet~ I had seen protected in the sanctuary of Zakynthos (Zante) island in Greece. Something so durable through the fabric of time itself, yet so fragile: The hatchlings have to complete an arduous journey to the sea once they've come out of their sand-buried eggs. Heading towards the brightest light, hopefully what is the moon's reflection on the horizon over the sea, before the hot sun comes up and fries them alive and before sea birds have them for prey. Only few survive, but those few are resilient, proud, swimming tall. But the affairs of man, never too far off the affairs of nature, lie close by on the ShipWreck or Navagio beach, one of the most photographed beaches of Greece, its name coming from the ship which was wrecked in 1983 while carrying smuggled cigarettes. Turtle Vetiver seems to be a parallel story of surviving hardship, small or bigger personal tragedies and smuggling hope; and on its cragged planes one can feel the emotion of having come up victorious.
Turtle VetiverExercise 1 is a hard-core vetiver for true-blue fans of the earthy deliciousness that responds to the name of that miraculously tenacious root and I feel like it became a symbol for the project same as turtles. The rough opening of "dirty and gritty vetiver roots before the soil and sand grains have been rinsed off" as Ayala described it is a prelude to a leitmotif of dark, edgy, earthy treatment of the note; remakably close to the pure essential oil, yet more palatable with a spicy edge and an almost salty undernote. It feathers out slowly, becoming clearer and clearer all the while like mud water shifted through a sieve.
In a way I am envisioning a cross between the nautical, iodine-rich Vetyver of Annick Goutal and the craggy, wet cobblestones of Vetiver Extraordinaire.
If you are wondering whether it might be too hard for you, you might reconsider because it certainly would. But if you want to be surprised by just how many interpretations are possible in this fascinating material, Turtle Vetiver is an intriguing addition.
Isabelle Doyen makes small erratic batches of Turtle Vetiver and plans on changing the formula constantly. Therefore Exercise 1 is simply the version currently in stock at Les Nez, it might change later on. Samples can be ordered from the LesNez website.
Song Ερωτικο/"Erotic", sung by Haris Alexiou, lyrics by Alkis Alkaios, music by Thanos Mikroutsikos. Written in memory of Marxist philosopher Nikos Poulantzas who commited suicide in Paris.
Lyrics translation by helg:
In a pirogue you set off and wander
when the rain gets stronger
In the land of Visigoths you wander
and Hanging Gardens seduce you
but you're sawing your own wings slowly.
Saltiness covered your naked body,
I brought you fresh water from Delphi
You said that your life would be cut in two pieces
and before I had the chance to deny you three times
the key of heavens had got rusty.
The caravan is rushing through the dust
chasing your shadow along
How could a sheet calm the mind,
how could the Mediterranean be tied with rope,
my love, whose name was Antigone.
Which melody of the night has tempted you
and in which galaxy could I find you?
Here is Attica, a grey pit
and I am but a shooting ground
where foreign soldiers train cursing.
Pic of Navagio Beach (the Shipwreck) on Zakynthos/Zante island in Greece by jjbach/flickr. (Beach accesible only by boat, leaving daily from Porto Bromi.) Song originally uploaded by kostasdiefhon on Youtube
I am such a neophyte, that I feel a disclaimer is in order. To begin with: it should be noted that I am neither a writer nor a perfumer. I am simply a woman possessed by a 50 year love affair with fragrance, who lives for her nose…known to some of you as “chayaruchama”.
Helg most generously offered me the opportunity to write a review for you all. She had just reviewed the magnificent Madame X{click for review} by Ava Luxe, and her enthusiasm spurred me to sample quite a few of Serena Ava Franco’s works. I was delighted to discover how gifted Ms. Franco is.
Some fragrances announce their presence with a clarion call- others insinuate their way into a room. Midnight Violet falls into the latter category. If Madame X is a symphony, then Midnight Violet is an etude, a dark one, by Chopin.
(click to experience what such a glorious thing is!)
Not melancholic in an abysmal sense, but deep, powerful, real, evocative, and full of feeling. There is no strident opening, no coyness or girlish blushes, no precocity. Conversely, Midnight Violet is not a gloomy, dank incense.
Somehow, this unusual perfume manages to be richly hued, with many layers of depth and nuance without being opaque or heavy. Midnight Violet opens with a shaft of light, which is heralded by the joyful notes of pink pepper, cinnamon, and galbanum. This translates into an intensely green, dry spiciness, which then yields to a richer, denser resinous smoke flavored with orris, the scent of damp earth and black hemlock. Cedar and sandalwood- very soft and creamy- ally themselves, joined by a languid moss, wood balsam, musk and civet. The addition of these woody and animalic accords endows Midnight Violet with a harmonious complexity that is very satisfying and possessed of great warmth.
My impression is of being drawn into the woods at dusk, when the light is just beginning to falter, and discovering that you are suddenly surrounded by the approaching night. The moon can be spied between the branches, but the forest is dark, quiet, and very deep. The haunting, faint odor of sylvan violet is nestled in an earthy, smoky bower, peaceful and contemplative.
Pic of Liv Tyler from the advertising campaign of "Lord of the Rings". Thanks to Youtube for the clip of Chopin's etude op.10 #1
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