Yves Rocher Pur Desir de Gardenia: fragrance review

 

The now discontinued Yves Rocher Pur Desir de Gardenia (i.e. pure desire for gardenia) is perhaps the most lamented true gardenia discontinuation in perfumery, barring the one by Estee Lauder (Private Collection Tuberose Gardenia). 

                               via pinterest 

Tom Ford's Velvet Gardenia comes up a close second or third maybe, representing the browned ripe gardenia that is just starting to deteriorate beyond salvation. It has been discontinued and brought back in the Reserve Collection. "Lushest, wettest, freshest, creamiest jungle gardenia. White petals and thick green leaves. That's it and it's all there. This is the most realistic gardenia fragrance." Thus writes about Pur Desir de Gardenia a reader and I can totally back this up. 

  Pur Desir de Gardenia is the essence of gardenia, built on jasmolactones and with a touch of styrallyl acetate maybe for the green part, in a sort of old-school-technique that perfumers used to do so well and then abandoned. The creamy and the lush elements are freshened up with the intensity of the green in Pur Desir de Gardenia, giving me the illusion of a budding gardenia, one which unfurls its petals in continuous orgasmic fervour. A marvel and at the same time a romantic elegy. The folly of not stocking up when one could... 

It's a puzzle why Yves Rocher stopped making this, as their Pur Desir line of soliflores was excellent to begin with, and this one was the jewel of the crown. The perfect embodiment of a single flower, that of the gardenia, is this vintage fragrance which those who recall it love with the unbridled passion reserved for true gems.

Pierre Cardin: Choc de Cardin, Paradoxe, and Rose Cardin fragrance reviews

  Regarding Pierre Cardin fragrances, his first officially documented release has been Pierre Cardin pour Monsieur in 1972 and Cardin for women (Cardin de Pierre Cardin) in 1976. However the official Pierre Cardin website does not mention them and begins the story from Choc de Cardin. Now that the great designer has passed, they will be the subject of speculation and furtive bidding wars on auction sites. Celebrated for his avant-garde style and Space Age designs which, alongside those of Courreges and Paco Rabanne, Cardin catapulted the fashions of the 1960s, and partly made that decade what it is.

Choc de Cardin in 1981 was indeed for many their first distinct memory of a Cardin-signed scent. The evolution of a citrus cologne given a shadowy chypre mantle in the way of Diorella and Le Parfum de Thérèse, Choc is neither shocking, nor chocolate-evoking; it's as French as it possibly gets, and in many ways "a forgotten masterpiece" worth hunting down. Seriously, if only warm weather fragrances were that nuanced and that balanced nowadays.

 Rose Cardin from 1990 also has many fans. Indeed the latter is among the few rose-centric fragrances which has something to draw me in, maybe because it does what niche fragrances today do at tenfold the price. Created by the same perfumer who gave us Choc de Cardin, Françoise Caron, it's noted for its sureness of execution more than its innovation. The rose is fanned on coriander, which puts a fresh and rather soapy spin on the blossom's nectar, and on patchouli, which makes it seem like it's endlessly unfurling, but softly, not angularly, with a smidgen of incense and musk.

In the meantime, in 1983 Paradoxe by Cardin was launched. This was a sandwich of two main ideas by Raymond Chaillan, who also created Givenchy III: the fresh, sour and bitterish top note of galbanum and green gardenia, and the animalic-leather growl coming up from the base in between lovely florals, all womanly and plush. It's enough to make a (chypre loving) girl dream.

As my colleague Miguel put it, "Paradoxe is an assertive chypre and it's almost an academic example of that style. From the top we get a freshness that is aldehydic, green and citrusy. The galbanum note is very evident and grounds a certain fizziness from the aldehydes and bergamot.[...] This is not a powdery scent at all. It is crisp, transparent and angular. This angular aspect is worked mostly through the hardness of the somewhat ashy base notes."

These are fragrances that collective memory passed them by, but they need to be rediscovered.

 

Penhaligon's Newest Eye and Nose Candy

photo by Elena Vosnaki

 It was inescapable. The new goodies from Penhaligon's have trickled their way to my lap and I'm slowly savouring their delights which I was seeking to try out. 

Babylon (an oriental--spicy-woody, exclusive to Harrods till January 2021), Mr.Penhaligon's (a man's fougere to be launched soon) and The Favourite (a delicate lightly powdery floral, on which I am posting a review next) are included in this delectable box of high aesthetics. 

photo by Elena Vosnaki

The above box of wonders is part of the British firm's celebration of the 150th anniversary of the brand's continuous existence. Yes, it did withhold all those years, in fact I know of a person (older than me, obviously) who was working on their London shop in the 1970s filling the cute bottles. 

"One mustn’t stand in the way of a well-needed celebration, and Penhaligon’s have just the thing! 2020 sees the sesquicentennial of our creation, and you don’t reach your 150th birthday without picking up a story or two. Just ask our founder, William Penhaligon. There was the time he trimmed the Shah of Persia’s beard. Not to mention all those Society scandals that set tongues wagging in the Turkish baths of Mayfair...150 years of dreams, magical places, distinctive characters, and the world’s most extraordinarily unique scents. Each of our fragrances tells a story, too."

It's a great story, I'll give you that, and what's more, in perfumery, it's quite true too, which is not a given with many other brands who invent their past. Cheers for another 150 years ahead, then. 

Trussardi Donna (vintage, for women, 1984): fragrance review

Everything there is to know about the feminine fragrance by Trussardi from the early 1980s (1984 to be exact) can be seen right from the start. The mock croc white bottle is revealing everything there is to know about this distinguished, yet extinguished scent. It's substituted by lesser mortals. But it keeps a soft spot in the hearts of some of us.

Trussardi Donna bianco classico via

Both Trussardi scents (men's and women's) from the early 1980s were encased in that most evocative and luxurious of materials—supple leather—which hugged their contours the way one envisions the molds used by a sculptor. The shape is recognizably that of a flask, and Nicola Trussardi himself was responsible for that gorgeous presentation. There was a textural element involved with the mock-croc motif, inviting the hand over the surface to touch, to feel...the anomaly in the grain so inviting, so exciting, so mature... The classic sharp chypre structure with a lush floral component in the heart was not alien to our house. My mom's beloved Cabochard with its leathery note—arid, nose-tingling, and almost masculine—would only derive from a house specializing in leather. The spicy top note of coriander and the touch of green herbs, plus waxy aldehydes, gave a clean opening. The alliance with the styrax and leathery tonalities which make up the basic core of its base is what makes it a juxtaposition in two different ideas: herbal crispness pitted against inky smokiness. They're both non-smooth, non-pliable ideas, but they match in headstrong confidence. It's the material which flamboyant women with a devil-may-care swagger thrive on.

Trussardi for Women (1984) in its vintage iteration, I recall, gave off that classic perfume-y vibe which many chypres of the 1970s and 1980s used to emit, such as Jean Louis Scherrer or Gucci No.3, yet softer and less bitter than something more galbanum-rich such as Or Noir (liquid black gold like I have described in my article) or Silences. They were scents of clean grooming, yet sophisticated preparations, not just shower fresh like nowadays. Today, men of taste might wear them with no problems, and the vintage concentration rivals many a modern eau de parfum for sheer longevity on skin and clothes. It's such a pity that a newer generation will only be confused amidst all the different Donnas in the evolving and evolved Trussardi canon.

Parfums de Rosine Ballerina No.5: fragrance review

The newest fragrance to take the Les Parfums de Rosine brand by storm is Ballerina No 5, which is as gorgeous a specimen in the rich tapestry of rose varietals Les Parfums de Rosine issued as some of their best. (Parfums de Rosine Majalis is another one I can't shake my love for, no matter what, and I have to have that one eventually!)

 La Bayadere, Petipa choreography, via mezzo.tv

"Ballerina is this lovely rose bush in Marie-Hélène Rogeon’s garden which gave its name to a perfume collection asserting at Les Parfums de Rosine house the idea of a perfume very à la française: very feminine, delicious, and affordable. The first in the saga, Ballerina No 1, a tender and innocent fragrance, is illustrating “le petit rat d’opera.” Then Ballerina No 2 is magnifying the prima donna in her art, with a wide and assertive perfume. Then two creations inspired by the famous ballet Swan Lake completed the collection: Ballerina No 3 for the black swan, mysterious with its double facets of rose and oud; and Ballerina No 4 for the white swan, a luminous, deep and pure perfume of white flowers. Today the ballet The Bayadere is giving the tuning of Ballerina No 5."

It is therefore a shimmering and rich fragrance, like gold, and vibrant with a thousand colors of an India-set ballet that perfumer Delphine Lebeau, led by the president of the company, Marie-Hélène Rogeon, composed. For Ballerina No 5, the rose is treated with “infinitely gourmand” accords: We are dreaming of candied roses, rose petal jellies, and crystallized flowers...

The scent of rose is obscured for a moment in this fantasy of candied and powdery notes which coerce themselves into a synchronized dance of great finesse. The lychee tonalities bring forth a freshness and succulence unforetold for a fresh rose scent in Ballerina No.5; usually fresh roses in western perfumery tend to project in a green direction of more seaside nymph or drowning Ophelia than Hindu dancers in the presence of gold dedications, or else they swath themselves in endless patchouli, rendering them somewhere between 1980s chypre territory or Arabian inspired imaginings. But not for Rosine! Here the best parts of Turkish delight meet powdery oriental chords, with sweet woody notes and a distinct almond paste curving it into something very femme, very pretty. I can see it becoming very popular very fast, as it's got the things that women go crazy about: the succulence, the textured powdery touch, the clean, yet somewhat edible quality about it...

Related reading on PerfumeShrine: 
Les Parfums de Rosine, the history of the original brand
Les Parfums de Rosine: Majalis, fragrance review
A Dozen Roses; Best Rose Fragrances

Serge Lutens Sarrasins: fragrance review

The beast cradles the jasmine vine in the garden and its salty-dirty stench of its hide, as well as the warmth of its fur, only serve to enhance the character of this not so innocent blossom. Smelling Sarrasins I'm momentarily reminded of horse saddles, India ink (no doubt aided in my allusion to it by the deep purple of the mysterious liquid in the bell jar bottle,) ripe fruit that sweetens the breath like apricot pulp, camphor, everything and the kitchen sink; but it's all an illusion.  

via

The jasmine is laced with spice, notes of cardamom, star anise and cinnamon, which all sounds like a natural course for Lutens, wedding the Arabian cuisine condiments & spices to single materials of his liking, like he did with Chypre Rouge and Rousse. But truth be told, spices are only alluded to in Sarrasins, with a pong of sweaty cumin and a cool mantle of cardamom, while jasmine clutches them fiercely.  Essentially, no pun intended, Sarrasins is a big jasmine fragrance, natural essence off-notes of petrol and all, molested against the wall by animalic notes: the salty-dirty pong of civet, the skanky smell of musk, even a tamer musk which silkens out the feline quality of this superb scent.

Always, always, in the best creations by the tiny Frenchman, whom we love to affectionately call "uncle Serge," we're dealing with Beauty and the Beast, to reference that other Frenchman, Jean Cocteau. The beast cradles the jasmine vine in the garden and we dearly hope that small children have reverted to their beds for a nightmare-free nap.

Gucci Bloom Gocce di Fiori (2019): fragrance review

The interpretation of tuberose floralcy in Gucci Bloom Gocce di Fiori is beautifully lighter, cooler and altogether more stereotypically "pretty" than all the previous editions. Gocce is plural for goccia in Italian, the perfume's name meaning "drops of flowers." And it is!

via

The honeysuckle impression is quite pronounced in this flanker fragrance, reminding me of one of my favorite honeysuckle fragrances, the extremely cute Petals by Lili Bermuda Perfumery, a burst of refreshing, nectarous, piercingly sweet blossoms floating in the suspended air of a mild springtime afternoon.

A lighter and fresher variant of the original "vintage" floral perfume, Gocce di Fiori brings an atmosphere of the beginning of spring. Instead of the classical scented composition of the top, middle and base notes, Gocce di Fiori opens with trio of highly concentrated noble ingredients: jasmine bud, natural tuberose absolute and Chinese honeysuckle flower (Rangoon Creeper).



The fragrance circulates as an Eau de Toilette, as compared with Nettare di Fiori which is Eau de Parfum Intense and the original Gucci Bloom which is Eau de Parfum concentration.

Jo Malone Honeysuckle & Davana: fragrance review

Jo Malone's latest fragrance launch Honeysuckle & Davana is advertised as a happy smell and it most definitely is a happy smell. One that feels like fortunate news spreading through the peals of countryside church bells into the distance; smiles in a nursery when the little one first stretches his/her facial muscles into that endearing way that has caretakers have their heart aflutter; or of long lost friends meeting at a long awaited rendez-vous. The brand's choice to illustrate the fragrance with the girl with the canary is spot on, even if canaries do not dot the English countryside by any stretch of the imagination.

via

Honeysuckle & Davana is quite fresh and honeyed at the same time, and at that intriguing intersection between warm and cool which I find very alluring. There is an oscillating ribbon of white florals right in the middle of the scent, further cementing that freshness which blooms when the scent is sprayed liberally. This is a fragrance that reveals facets when used in excess, much like their previous Mimosa & Cardamom needs the bigger spray rather than the applying with a small wand on skin testing technique to fully reveal its pretty message. Compared with that other honeysuckle fragrance in the Jo Malone catalogue, Honeysuckle & Jasmine (1999), which used to be quite charming in its naturalistic impression of a fragrant garden at dusk somewhere south, the newer edition is more upbeat, with interesting facets that differentiate it from the white florals that are so screechingly taking over perfume counters as the "immediate femininity" index when the whole isn't hoarding under tons of syrupy sweetness...

In the drydown of Honeysuckle & Davana, we come up with a mix of an earthy note that might be attributed to Evernyl, but which is also mixed with clean, starched white musks (and which provides the very tenacious part, however those who are anosmic to some musks might find this undetectable, so try before you buy).

Hermes Hiris: fragrance review

Once upon a time, concubines in the Far East were fed animal musk, so that their bodies would sweat in sweet fragrance. Nowadays they feed themselves angelica roots, boiled carrots, and almond baked in tin foil, with the tin foil intact. They spray themselves absent-mindedly with an obsolete hairspray that engulfs them in musk, sending electrical sparks like a loose train set on liquid tracks, running in the storm to nobody knows where. They work under azure skies which never betray the greyness of their gaze. They dream of "Et la lune descent sur le temple qui fut". Some girls nowadays are fed Hiris by Hermès...

Hiris: from the flower to the fragrance, the modern and refined mindset of a unique soliflore, all devoted to the splendor of the iris. A perfume of emotion and subtlety conceived by perfumer Olivia de Giacobetti in 1999, it expresses its charm with an infinite delicacy; sometimes floral, sometimes powdery or plant-like, always one of the olfactory wonders of nature.

The quintessential dry powder scent, Hiris by Hermès is the yardstick against which orris scents can be measured in a sweetness to dryness climax; this one is set on ultra-dry. For sheer uniqueness it could only be compared to the cold melancholia of Iris Silver Mist by Serge Lutens, but it's less gloomy, less sombre, warming a bit through the skin-like ambrette seed. It's for INFP types for sure.
And it falls naturally into the pattern set out by Hermès, a house that caters to an effortless sensibility of quiet sensuousness, of subtle sexiness, of refined intellectuality. A precious keepsake.

Fragrance notes for Hermès Hiris:
Top Notes
Iris, Coriander, Carrot
Heart Notes
Iris, Neroli, Rose, Hay
Base notes
Honey, Almond wood, Vanilla, Cedarwood, Ambrette seed

NB. The older bottles are in blue frosted glass packaged in an orange carton. The newer ones are in a transparent glass bottle with gold cap and a blue label, packaged in an orange and blue carton. 

Frederic Malle Le Parfum de Therese: fragrance review

It's tough to do a good melon note, if only because in hindsight the overuse of Calone in the 1990s has tampered with our own perception of the natural object. Melon of course cannot be distilled, being mostly water in itself, so an approximation is in order. Some perfumers excel where others fail. For me, the definitive addition of melon which swerves the whole composition into something amazing comes in the top chord of Frederic Malle Le Parfum de Therese.

via

The legendary perfumer Edmond Roudnitska is the mastermind behind this fragrance which shares many facets with his masterful vintage Diorella. Roudnitska always brought space in his fragrant compositions, a very legible melody that sang and sang in Mozartian clarity. In other famous fragrances of his the fruit serves as the opening salve to the inkier and more serious aspects of the formula, such as the plums and hesperides in Rochas Femme and Eau Fraiche for Dior. But in Le Parfum de Therese it is the predominant melon, with its succulent, and at the same time not too sweet tinge which rounds out the violet heart, seguing to the plushness of beloved plum and leathery notes. Although Roudnitska is of Russian extraction, his composition displays a very French flair at looking on femininity; it's a little bit sweet, but also fresh, and it's a little bit dirty, but also quite polished.

In conclusion Le Parfum de Therese is both retro and decidedly modern and stands as the perfect timeless scent for those who want to possess a tiny bit of a legend; after all Roudnitska composed it with great care for his own beloved wife. Aren't we lucky that Frederic Malle salvaged the formula and offered it to us.

Elie Saab Le Parfum: fragrance review

Is it rather predictable that when consulted I invariably recommend that a bride smells Le Parfum by Elie Saab when considering fragrances for her wedding day, since beautiful wedding gowns have been designed by Lebanese designer Elie Saab throughout the years? We have also come to associate white florals with weddings, if only because the traditional orange blossoms to adorn the bride's hair are a tried & tested tradition; plus they look and smell magnificent.

brownie points for the observant |pic via

Elie Saab Le Parfum is a glorious orange blossom and jasmine composition (it contains both the south of France grandiflora and the denser Indian sambac variety), which embraces its wearer into a vision of beauty and splendour. It's regal, yet not too mature. It's sweet, thanks to the honeyed nectarous quality of the floral essences, but not vulgar sweet. It's ladylike, sure, but it hints at a velvety sensuality of silky limbs and thick hair brushing the shoulders.

Most importantly its brightness is conductive to the optimism that a wedding, surely the start of what is more essential, a common path in life, a marriage, heralds. And this is what is priceless. The only problem I can see with this fragrant choice is that bridesmaids would be elbowing each other, taking the perfume's name and designer name down for their own future nuptials.

L'Occitane en Province Fleurs de Cerisier (Cherry Blossom): fragrance review

Nothing could be further apart than the vivacious, gregarious ways of the Greeks and the orderly, over-refined ways of the Japanese celebrating "sakura", the ephemeral beauty of the blossoming cherry trees. And yet, in the transience of "we live only once", I can find all the inherent melancholy of Greek philosophy.
Life is transcient. It slips through the fingers like sand on an empty shore sometime in late September when the days draw shorter and the chill rises off the sea at dusk.

via Pinterest

Cherry blossom fragrances therefore greet me with the conundrum of transient joy over fruitful outcome. I picked this jammy-smelling scent by L'Occitane because it encapsulates disparate elements of the delight in the ephemeral: a touch of rain, a hint of apples and melons to come, peppery jolt in the air, the lingering aftertaste of cherry jam when the jar has been emptied...

Like Henry Miller said "the scent of playing [with a particular part of the female anatomy] on one's fingers is all the more beautiful after the fact because it carries the memory of the finished fact". I am paraphrasing. But you get my point.

The Body Shop Indian Night Jasmine: fragrance review

"Another world is not only possible, she is on her way. On a quiet day, I can hear her breathing." This quote by Indian author Arundhati Roy is one of my favorite ones, shedding light where despair has cast its long, oppressing shadow. Scent also works the same way, transforming the mundane or the forsaken into sparkle and comfort. And when that comes with no requests of owning heaps of cash the size of the Koh-i-Noor jewel from Andhra Padesh, rejoice for all involved! One such case is Indian Night Jasmine by The Body Shop, possibly the nicest fragrance in the company's current rotation.

theberry.com via

Jasmine by its very nature is a precious essence to harvest; the delicate flowers need not see the heat of the day, as they emit their strongest scent during the cloistered shadows of the night. They get picked by hand, they wilt and brown easily, emitting their narcotic scent while they die... literally dying in scent. Modern technology has managed to isolate and replicate the sweetest and freshest elements of this natural wonder and to create fragrances that come at a competitive price point.

Indian Night Jasmine by The Body Shop manages to smell smooth, lush and orientalized, befitting the imagery of wild shrubberies growing out of control somewhere in India, the "moonshine in the garden". The air is dewy, warm and heavy with the promise of romance. Eyes kohl-sooted, glimmer under the canopy of fringed lashes; skin sleek with anticipatory sweat. This could be the night.

Estee Lauder Pleasures: fragrance review

Can there be a fragrance "fit for every woman in every season and at every moment"? A long, long time ago, this held true through the notion of the "signature scent", the olfactory equivalent of a calling card. During the 1990s - smack in the middle of which Pleasures was launched by American champion of the cosmetics counter, Estee Lauder - this notion had fallen sideways in favor of the cash-bringing concept of a "fragrance wardrobe".

photo by Edward Steichen via

Much as the hereby contradicting brief therefore foretold of a foible in capturing "the moment", the commercial success of Pleasures was cemented in reinforced concrete. And even the scent somewhat hints at the smell of concrete itself. But let me explain.

A fragrance for every season and every moment, for every woman, is by definition somewhat inoffensive, crowd pleasing, middle of the road. No big ripples, no histrionics, but no soft whisper either; it should be recognizably shared, coveted as the mark of the Aristotelean kalos kagathos. Alberto Morillas is the perfumers' equivalent of kalos kagathos, in the very best sense. Or maybe he's just got the touch of Midas, everything he touches turns to gold; there's that, too.

Pleasures owes its immaculate sheen to a preponderance of aldehydes, those frothy, citrusy, soapy materials handed down from mother's and grandmother's perfume, soaked into copious amounts of musk for clean starchiness that recalls the smell of wet concrete after the rain. It's Morillas's Spanish background (with a hand from Annie Byzantian) that is the rock-bed on which the double notion of clean yet piquant rests, and which forms the reigning glory of Pleasures. The rising peppery warmth (highlighted on an already warm skin) thanks to the unusual but tiny addition of the mesmerizing and pricey karo-karounde extract and the soft pink pepper (i.e. baie rose) add to the more prim aspects to create something that is beyond scrubbed clean, it's handsome.

You can also read about one of the print advertisements of Pleasures seen through an Art History lens on this link.

Serge Lutens A La Nuit: fragrance review and musings

Dedicated to the night and voluptuous, feminine women everywhere, A la Nuit by Serge Lutens is probably the most life-like rendition of night-blooming jasmine in all of perfumery. The narcotic, star-petalled flower hypnotizes all who come into contact with it on a warm summer's evening, when the air is filled with promise of romance and sensual abandon. Heady, sweet, laced with honeyed and resinous notes that weave their own web of seduction, A la Nuit employs several different varieties of jasmine: Moroccan, Egyptian and Indian. Surrendering yourself to its temptation is akin to reaching erotic zenith...

via

Jasmine is plentiful in southern Europe and northern Africa from where Lutens was inspired; lush, narcotic, dense with clotted cream at night-time, making the heart ache with its sweetness, fresh and bubble-gum worthy with green dewiness in the mornings. But while we, perfume lovers, like to mock and taunt each other about the fecal reminiscent particulars in it, specifically the combination of moth-balls indole and peachy-creamy lactones, plus many other wonderful and weird chemical additions that talk to our sensitive human hormones, hearing it being invoked by your beloved in an intimate setting can turn into unsettling quickly. How stimulating is the invocation of #2 in the bedroom? Not particularly for most, I'd wager. Let this be a lesson to test this glorious specimen of true jasmine first, before plunging headlong into it.

Created in 2000. Fragrance Family: Floral Oriental 
Perfumer: Chris Sheldrake 
Fragrance Notes A La Nuit by Serge Lutens: jasmine, grenadine, beeswax, musk and benzoin. 

Acqua di Parma Acqua Nobile Rosa: fragrance review & giveaway

It's pink! 

This exclamation can be taken two distinct ways. It either beckons lovers of all stuff girly

or it scares hardcore perfumephiles with their anticipated suspicion hardened through years of insipid fruity florals that would be better used as shampoo. Thankfully Acqua Nobile Rosa isn't either too fluff, nor a fruity floral. It's a pure, crystalline, airy wisp of a scent, as ethereal as wind chimes heard through an early morning breeze.

With Acqua di Parma issuing a newer interpretation of their previous Rosa Nobile in their Acqua Nobile line of scents one might expect a rehashing of the same formula, only turned lighter. But in fact Acqua Nobile Rosa is a new composition, certainly more ethereal, yet managing to differentiate itself enough to warrant testing both.

Rosa Nobile is a cool and straight-up rose petals fragrance, a ballet slipper of a smell rather than an exuberant Nahema (Guerlain) red Jimmy Choo pump or a moiré slingback in the fruity green style of Sa Majeste la Rose (Serge Lutens). It's not retro, but it's not bastardized either, the way some of my favorite rose fragrances are, i.e. sprinkled with loukhoum rosewater (Mohur extrait), dense with spice and patchouli (Aromatics Elixir, Voleur de Roses) or plain resinous goddess-like (Caron's Parfum Sacre). It's never easy making a true rose scent, so Rosa Nobile is not unworthy of mentioning as a relative success, especially given how jammy the pure absolute of rose can smell.

Acqua Nobile Rosa on the other hand is more like the air floating above a rose bush, with a perceptible citrus and blackcurrant tinge, tart and a little bit tangy. Blackcurrant buds have an illustrious and infamous history in perfumery, what with them being used to great aplomb in First by Van Cleef & Arpels (where they open the scene to the animalic smelling background beneath the posh French style perfume) and their ammoniac feel reminiscent of a kitty cat. 

But do not fear. It's pink. How wrong could it go? 

The airy, electrical buzzing (i.e. freesia) but prolonged -thanks to large musk molecules- drydown is very soft, lightly powdery (a hint of makeup aroma), lightly sweet and the rose is retained throughout; it's as if one is catching the whiff of a rose garden next door rather than hiding one's nose amidst the bushes. I'm OK with that.

Capturing the serene beauty of a stroll in an Italian rose garden, Acqua Nobile Rosa Eau de Toilette is a radiant fragrance for women. This sparkling Eau de Toilette focuses on the lighter, brighter aspects of the rose garden with notes of mandarin, blackcurrant, rose and ambergris. A veritable symphony of enchanting accords capturing both the vibrant and ethereal facets of the Italian Centifolia Rose, famed for its incomparable beauty. 

Fragrance notes for Acqua Nobile Rosa by Acqua di Parma:

Top: Bergamot, Mandarin, Blackcurrant

Heart: Damask rose, Centifolia rose, Cyclamen, Freesia

Base: Ambergris, Musk

Related reading on Perfume Shrine:

Top Rose Scented Fragrances & Products

Everything's coming up roses: how rose is on trend again

My Troubles with Rose & Overcoming Them One Step at a Time

I have a full bottle of this from which a 5ml decant has been taken for a lucky reader. 
Please enter a comment below this post to enter. Draw is open internationally and closes on Sunday 5th midnight. 

In the interests of full disclosure I got this through a PR promo. 

Boss Nuit pour Femme: fragrance review

I sometimes ask myself what does it say about a particular fragrance if I'm not even temped to seek out a sample of it, but eventually get to try it because one ends up on my lap anyway. Usually it's time-honed experience suggesting the jus looks unexciting; and most of the time it ends up getting me bored to the point of having my eyes glaze. The Boss range of fragrances (with the possible exception of Deep Red) continues to induce yawns from me despite my appreciation of the razor-cut "sharp" pants, the impeccable trim-fit men's suits in endless variations of grey, the double strap monk shoes or  the office-and-cocktails appropriate suiting dresses of the fashion brand. Boss Nuit pour Femme is no different, an innocuous peachy floral (with a hint of fruitchouli) and the standard ersatz blanched (rather than "white") florals in the heart to give an impression of "clean" elegance, in the spitting image of its ambassadress, Gwyneth Paltrow and her "clean obsessive compulsive living".

The blonde celebrity has been said to prefer it among her rather large perfume collection (of whom we became savvy through her interviews), but doesn't the point get diluted by her being sponsored to promote it? Besides, unless you're a lady who lunches, is Gwynnie the yardstick against which you measure the va-va-voom allure and intelligence your chosen perfume should radiate? I didn't think so.
Boss championed the concept of "the little black dress" for the release (surely an American stereotype of "dressy & elegant" by now) reminiscing me of Avon's Little Black Dress fragrance release (which is perhaps superior in comparison), but the ambassadress is better envisioned in crisp whites, the way Estee Lauder had brilliantly cast her aboard a sailing boat for their fabulous Pure white Linen perfume.

Boss Nuit pour Femme has mediocre sillage and rather poor lasting power and these two characteristics can be the kiss of oblivion when applied to a "safe" composition, rendering the whole as exciting as watching paint dry or having the telephone catalogue read to you to sleep. Clearly these are formulae not in risk of athazagoraphobia, i.e. the fear of getting forgotten.
The jasmine note doesn't come through in Boss Nuit pour Femme, leaving the task to the lactone of the peach and the moss (Evernyl?)/synth wood components to carry the torch. The "aldehydes" mentioned in the official notes are played down to only hint at scrubbed soapy lather rather than the intensity of brightness of classic aldehydics fragrances like Chanel's No.5 or Lanvin's Arpege. Although advertised as an evening fragrance, as suggested by the name as well, this is the perfect wallpaper scent for casual mornings/afternoons. Boss Nuit pour Femme is not totally bad in itself, just utterly blah; a drop of water on the window pane on a day of heavy rain. But judging by the continuous presence of Bright Crystal (Versace), Chanel Chance Eau Tendre, Gucci Premiere et al on the market, this "peachy shampoo genre" is here to stay…

Although I didn't have high expectations from Boss (the let down of Guerlain's thin and wan Limon Verde from last summer's Aqua Allegoria launch is colossal compared to this), it's disheartening to see that playing outside one's safe zone is strictly verboten in mainstream.

Maison Francis Kurkdjian Les Pluriels Masculin and Feminin: fragrance reviews

This coming September star perfumer Francis Kurkdjian is launching a duet of scents, Feminin and Masculin in Les Pluriels, for his eponymous brand. I have sampled both and have lived to tell the tale, which is a good one, if not highly original (even within his private niche line). The story is just published on Fragrantica, more of which below, and you're welcome to comment either there or here.

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Basically Kurkdjian isn't traitorous to what he sets out to do, he considers perfumery more of an artistic craft than high art and believes in the concept of the fragrance wardrobe; his brand is meant to have something for every occasion (for the light "cologne" type for morning to the lush out animalics for intimate soirees) , so the newest diptych fits there comfortable. The bit that is perhaps more difficult to catch is the "eternal feminine" and "eternal masculine" he sets out to accomplish; tall order, especially because no one seems to agree on set parameters on those. After all, it's all a matter of semiotics, external signs for easy communication of a desired message and men and women are just themselves ~men and women. They're not defined by the jodhpurs they choose, the T-shirt and its bow neck or V-neck skimming breasts or not. They're not defined by the cut of their jeans (see "boyfriend's jeans"). They're not even defined by their added fragrance (read our Gender Bending Fragrances article if in doubt).

Feminin Pluriel has a very distinct progression like the passage of colors in the arc. The carrot impression of the iris hits you first, welcome solace from the overdone pink grapefruit /pink pepper or so much modern juice out there, setting the motion for the violet which follows on the skin very very soon. This note, a ubiquitous and perfect complement to both the rooty iris and the woody notes to follow, seems to meld into jasmine and a honeyed abstract orange blossom (reminiscent of its fore-bearers), comprising the main dish. This is further floralized by benzyl salicylate, a very popular ingredient boosting the "solar," luminous aspects of a scent. The cascading of the notes is so noticeable and so distinct that it's as if one ticks off the notes off a list or is watching a race course with the runners passing the baton to one another. Kurkdjian is no stranger to iris-violety things, given a sheer and non-powdery spin, lifting them from their traditional greyish mauve plumage befitting a solemn occasion via cheerful accents; witness his Iris Nobile for Acqua di Parma, surely the most optimistic and light-hearted iris floral out there.

The woody musky backdrop in Feminin Pluriel is engulfing a rose-citrus molecule (indeed, geraniol which has facets hinting at bergamot, rose, other citruses and carrot —the analogue of iris—so it all fits together, hand in glove) and feels as smooth and indefinable as the base in his rose-centered "nouveau chypres" (modern Rumeur, Guerlain Rose Barbare, Rose de Siwa and less so in the less rosy ones such as Narciso for Her and Elie Saab Le parfum). It fits his canon! Picture perfect pretty, in a (public side) Grace Kelly sort of style, maybe too pretty for its own good.

You can read my full review on this link.

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Regarding Masculin Pluriel, I feel a clear progression from smoky, lightly citrusy vetiver to lavender fougère and on to leathery-smelling patchouli. It's as if the man you wake up to (after a romp in the sheets) jumps up to wash and groom to go to the office and have his "power meetings" before heading out to a private club in the evenings to indulge in a little light S&M, yourself included or not. Schizophrenic? No, just multi-layered, shadow and light, like people are, in fact. Ironic too, because the cleanness of Masculin Pluriel is overreaching like a giant fig leaf hiding the family jewels. The coolness of lavender in Masculin clutches itself to the cooler aspects of patchouli (both sharing a minty facet) echoing one another. It's also a balanced bittersweet fragrance (not sweet like Le Male); one would be fooled to think it's only plush and lush and shaven to a glistening six-pack fit for a glossy magazine…

Although not a chest-thumping kind of a scent (nor an animalic-smelling Jicky full to the brim with civet), the spicy-metallic roughness of a more traditionally rugged mien in Masculin hints at a guy who doesn't shave said pectorals and dons the occasional leather trousers that have seen some wear and tear.

You can read my full review on this link.

Neela Vermeire Creations Mohur Extrait: fragrance review & draw

Mohur Eau de Parfum by Neela Vermeire Creations preceded the Extrait de Parfum version of this India-inspired rose fragrance for men and women; in fact the extract only launched last spring. But the perfume extract (extract de parfum) brings into highlight the richest in noble essences arranged in a manner that highlights their pedigree; comparing the two is like juxtaposing the silky hair of a Persian domestic cat compared to the majestic plush of the strapping Shere Khan. Mohur extrait is something of a diva! As if Mohur eau de parfum wasn't already queenly enough….but you can imagine the added magisterial effect, right?  {And now that your appetite is whetted there is a lucky draw for great Neela Vermeire Creations prizes at the end of the post, so be sure to read to the bottom!}

Rose is a fascinating, as much as a polarizing, perfume raw material due to two main reasons. For one, the natural extract can vary wildly according to the variety of rose variant used (the tea rose for instance possesses a completely different scent than that of the fruity, berry-plummy Munstead Wood), the cultivar and region (Rosa Damascena, traditionally coming from Bulgaria, is heavier and deeper than May Rose, traditionally coming from Grasse, though there are also Turkish, Moroccan and roses hailing from other regions) and the details of the method of extraction (different metals contribute their own little nuances in the end product etc). For another, rose by itself is an interesting, multi-layered oil, exhibiting facets of liqueur, wine, even pear or artichoke! Composing a fragrance based on the "Queen of flowers", as rose is affectionately named (jasmine is the King), isn't easy. This is also why most of the time there is very little, if any, natural rose essence, in perfumes. Constructing a rose bouquet with synthetics is far more elegant, in the mathematical sense of the world, allowing a precise calibration of the effect minus any distraction of off notes.

Rose is also a fragrance note that needs getting some conditioning to. At least for me it did and I know I'm not alone. Rose scents can appear too old-fashioned for their own good sometimes (not old fashioned in the glamorous vintage sense of out-of-the-mold perfumes which dare to walk on stilts, towering over everyone else, but "grannyish" sorry to say). Nevertheless everything old is new again and rose is making a comeback in perfumery as a focal note (it never went away from the secret core of most feminine fragrances anyway). Luckily for me, Neela Vermeire Creations scored Bingo with their Mohur Eau de Parfum, which manages to smell at once contemporary and nostalgic, rich in second-hand reminiscences scaterred atop its jammy, lightly powdery rose dessert from Rajastan.

It's a perfume which accompanies my softest thoughts. Now the Mohur Extrait de Parfum, rich in rose absolute, comes as the culmination of the succulence, tempting and caressing with the intensity of its purple color of the flacon; at once cool and warm, like the color purple unites the fieriness of red with the calm of blue, regal, ceremonial and mystical with its association to the Crown Chakra. Honeyed facets of the rose are folded into a batter of powdery materials (the vegetal, subdued muskiness of ambrette seeds and the iris effect of carrot seed essence) while the sandalwood note takes on creamy qualities, deftly incorporated into this rosewater-flavored barfi by Neela Vermeire Creations perfumer in charge Bertrand Duchaufour (who also gave us another rose-dusted Ottoman-palatial-leaning phantasmagoria in Traversee du Bosphore for L'Artisan Parfumeur). Although the formula for the two is the same, the Mohur extrait is overall sweeter and rather more gourmand-smelling, with less of the aldehydic top notes of the Eau de Parfum, and while I think that the eau de parfum is personally speaking a very wearable incarnation thanks to its very drape-y softness which floats around me like a golden sari, I can't deny the exquisiteness of Mohur in pure perfume. If you can afford bringing so much beauty into your everyday life without keeling over, by all means, there's no point in searching beyond this masterpiece.

Mohur (in eau de parfum and extract de parfum versions) is part of the niche fragrances issued by Neela Vermeire Créations which also includes Trayee, Bombay Bling and Ashoka. These Indian inspired perfumes, like Chants of India, draw upon the tradition, history and cultural milieu of that vast Eastern sub-continent in which Neela herself has roots. These are truly "transparent orientals", modern and wearable, and therefore it comes as no surprise that Neela commissioned Bertrand Duchaufour to compose them for her niche line. Her e-boutique can be accessed on this link.

I have 2 great prizes for 2 winners (shipping to US, EU and Canada):
Prize 1 is a 8ml spray bottle of Mohur extrait with ceramic logo disk (depicted)
Prize 2 is a Sampler coffret (2ml x 4 scents) of the 4 eaux de parfum Trayee, Mohur, Bombay Bling and Ashoka (depicted) plus Mohur extrait sample with ceramic logo disk

What you need to do:
1. Leave a comment below in this review (about the NVC scents, the review itself, roses & scents etc...)
2. Please like Neela Vermeire Creations FB page or follow her NVC Twitter handle (whichever you have is fine). 

Draw is open till Friday midnight and winners will be announced sometime during the weekend.

NB disclosure: The review/draw requirements/links are non affiliated. I was sent a sample vial by the company for reviewing purposes.


Related reading on Perfume Shrine: 
A Dozen Roses: Top Selection of Rose Fragrances & Rose-Smelling Products
Fragrance Reviews of Perfumes with Rose notes 
Neela Vermeire Creations Perfume Reviews 

Estee Lauder White Linen: fragrance review & history

Would you appreciate a fragrance that projected around the way knitting needles would stick inside your nostrils, the equivalent of a scent porcupine? The "needles up the nose" characterization has never found a more apt bond than the one spontaneously created in the mind of one perfume lover on the board of Perfume of Life years ago regarding White Linen. The phrase has since entered the online perfume lingo as a casual but evocative definition for the painfully sharp, supremely stinging feeling that certain perfumes heavy in aldehydes (i.e. synthesized molecules with a "bright", soapy and fizzy aspect), such as this particular Lauder perfume, produce in those who smell them.

White Linen is possibly among the most distinctly aldehydic floral fragrances of all time, an honor it shares with Chanel No.22, but whereas No.22 goes for the snuffed out candle waxiness and smokiness (which recalls incense if you glint your head just this way), White Linen, its American counterpart and about 50 years its junior, goes for the steam of an iron pressing on a crisp, starched shirt which has been washed with the harshest lye soap on earth. In short, memorable! (You'd never mistake it for "white noise fragrance")

White Linen was launched alongside Lauder's Celadon and Pavilion in 1978 as part of the makeup and scents collection "New Romantics" (in itself influenced by the music trend that was just emerging). Composed by Sophia Grojsman, White Linen bears her signature style of impressive cleanness projected via loudspeakers fit for a Guns n'Roses concert. For a Russian emigre Grojsman has acquired throughout her career a particularly American ideal of femininity, no doubt thanks to the exigencies of the American giant of aromatics who employs her, International Flavors and Fragrances; well scrubbed, athletic, spick & span, Athenian rather than Venereal.

1993 print ad

Coming on the heels of the sporty leathery Azuree, the bitterish chypre perfume Private Collection and the bright and soapy-smelling aldehydic Estee, it's not difficult to see how White Linen also fits in the canon of Lauder and in the zeitgeist of the late 70s, when women began to make a career of executive positions and started in earnest to 'bring home the bacon, fry it in a pan' as one commercial* of the times claimed.

Although ubiquitous and always in production since its launch, without any detectable changes in its formula, it's one of those fragrances that fly under the radar, so I am archiving White Linen in my Underrated Perfume Day feature. Its monolithic structure (built on huge single blocks of materials, much like later Grojsman oeuvres such as Tresor by Lancome) White Linen packs a punch.
But the aldehydic knock-out comes with an astounding discovery: the aldehydes contribute just 1% to the formula, with equal parts of Galaxolide (synthetic clean musk, garlanded by at least 3 other synth musks) and Vertofix (giving a cedar wood note) accounting for almost half of the ingredients! The secret is that unlike most other aldehydic floral fragrances it lacks the modifying, mollifying caress of bergamot and ylang ylang.

late 1990s print ad

1986 print ad

A fresh rose core, so fresh that it borders on cleaned-up orange blossom, bring a kinship of White Linen to Calandre, while the overall genealogy brings it as a modern classic that derives from Madame Rochas and Chanel No.5. The sheen of squeaky green lily of the valley boosts the sharp cleanness, the sparkle of hedione brings luminosity and vetiver gives its own freshness and subtle woodiness alongside a powerful amber note. The latter two elements give White Linen a touch of sophistication which could tilt it into unisex territory.

White Linen is a powerful, titanic Aurora and although it is removed from what I (and many other people) find comfortable, I can't fail but to admire its guts and its blinding brightness, white-washed like a house directly carved out of white volcanic rock in the Aegean.

*that's actually the slogan for Enjoli. 

The advertising photos are all so charmingly appealing that I decided to include them all. 

1978 print ad