Oriflame Mirage: fragrance review

One of the few and far in between fragrances composed by Françoise Caron for Oriflame (as per the company's official info), Mirage had the stunning visuals to turn heads even before smelling its intense "magical broth" scent. The intensely green bottle and the red-haired heroine representing it, dressed in emerald flowing gowns (red enhancing the green) had me salivating even before holding the lovely rollerball vials they used to make and trying it on my own skin with all the apprehension reserved for ritualized experiences.

This most striking of colors, green being the color of horror movies and sorceresses' brews, is taken for a wild ride in Mirage. The peppery, mysterious and lush smell of vetiver and sticky, sweetly spicy peppery resins engulf its core of dark, gothic rose with thorns attached. One can almost feel the ache of those "pricked thumbs" and the foreboding of [the] "wicked [which] our way comes" as per Macbeth's second witch's famous lines. But unlike Lady Macbeth you won't long to wash it off your hands, if it catches your heart. And it very well might, unless you're of the gourmands and fruity florals brigade, in which case step away like hordes of Huns are stampeding down your path.

Unusual for Oriflame fragrances Mirage was very potent and with a high sillage, making it a true love-it-or-hate-it perfume. And I say "was" because it is discontinued. In the hopes of having it re-introduced, even under another name, I am writing this elegy of its emerald-hued heart of darkness.

Francoise Caron: A Woman for All Seasons

"Françoise Caron's long line of perfume creations reads like a diverse and stylish list of artistic accomplishment, with nary a misstep, yet always with the harmonious feel one gets upon wandering amidst a Greco-Roman glyptotheque: From one of the most enduring classics of modern perfumery, beloved by anyone who comes into contact with it, L’Eau d’Orange Verte for Hermès, to niche offerings such as three Eaux de Cologne and four candles for Astier de Villate, all through the formula for the signature scent of the Angel body line (Thus befittingly augmenting her brother’s, Olivier Cresp’s, oeuvre, since it was he who composed the original Angel scent).

L’Eau d’Orange Verte began its career on the bathroom shelves of dandies and chic bourgeois girls as well as traditional men who just wanted to smell good, with another name: It was issued as Eau de Cologne d’ Hermès in 1979 (the name was changed in 1997) after a brief was issued to perfume-producing companies in which Jean Claude Ellena, current in-house perfumer at Hermès, had also submitted an entry. Triumph ensued very soon: This was seriously good cologne; tangy, bright, and happy-smelling, projecting at a cool radius to everything it touched, remaining timeless and effortless to this day. Its panoply of classical arms is its success: the traditional Eau de Cologne weapon, the sour tang of bitter orange, cutting through heat like a scimitar; the herbal-green accord rustic and Arcadia-evoking...

“An eau de cologne needs to be simple, with top notes that aren’t heavy, that don’t purport to stay on long; yet simplicity doesn’t mean absence of personality either” she notes, upon the 30th anniversary of the fragrance’s launch. “It also needs to be cooling”, its alcohol content a major constituent of the refreshing feeling it produces upon evaporation.
The effect is reinforced through the secret inclusion of a little mint and that ace in the sleeve, blackcurrant buds, offering a fruity touch with a catty whiff. Françoise is still profoundly touched whenever she encounters her creation amidst the hotel toiletries offered at some of the world’s choicest hotels..."

This is only part of a longer perfumer's portrait article on Françoise Caron which appeared on Fragrantica. Click this direct link to access it.

Balenciaga Michelle: fragrance review & history

It is always with some astonishment that I find myself in a Wells-like universe while critically appraising fragrances from decades ago: the Balenciaga classic perfumes opus in particular is supremely refined in the grand manner (Quadrille, Prelude, Cialenga, and the more famous Le Dix), yet surprises lay hidden in less far off decades ~as recently as 1979, if 30 years ago can be seen as "recent". Michelle, created that year, as a posthumous homage to the great couturier who had died in 1972 and named after his favourite model, is a classic from the house reflecting values of another time.

Intense in its message, floral and oriental at once with a wink of aldehydes on top like topz eyes behind dark sunglasses, and weird in a sublime way, thanks to a ginormous tuberose and earthy rose in its heart, Michelle by Balenciaga shares a common element with that other fangled, musky and bitter tuberose of the 80s, Dior's Poison by nose Edouard Fléchier (1985); and to a lesser degree with the more vulgar Giorgio by Giorgio Beverly Hills, a fragrance that sadly traumatised a whole generation of teenagers into succumbing to watery ozonics in the hopes of escaping the deadly, miasma-like fumes of their mothers' scent which wafted from every taxi and every elevator to the point of suffocation.
As someone wittingly quipped, the first Dior Poison is "like road testing an Abrams M1 tank in the evening rush hour". To further that image, I should add that Giorgio is all of the above, but done in picturesque Dubrovnik, pre- the Yugoslavian War ravages, when it was a perfect specimen of UNESCO's Cultural Heritage collection of cities, pristinely preserved in formaldehyde.

Cristóbal Balenciaga (1895-1972), a Basque-born Spanish couturier renowned for his impecable attention to detail, his contempt for bourgeoisie status of the Chambre and referred to as "the master of us all" by Christian Dior himself, became famous for his architectural eye and ultra-modernity. The latter was especially exhibited in his "bubble skirts" and odd shapes, the "square coat", the swanlike collars and the "bracelet sleeves" among them. His fragrances reflected his demanding and sophisticated nature: they had character!

The nose behind Balecianga's Michelle is Françoise Caron, best known for Eau d'Orange Verte for Hermès, Kenzo by Kenzo (the original with the blossom-shaped stopper) and the reconstruction of Ombre Rose L'Original for Brosseau, but also for Montana's oriental mohair blanket Just Me and the popular oriental/gourmand Escada Collection. Her Gió for Giorgio Armani (1992) continues with the tuberose treatment so prevalent in the 80s and in a way reflects some of the aspects of Michelle without following it closely. Whereas Gió is nectarous, fruity and honeyed, Michelle is rather sharper, mossier and with that weird perfume-y note de tête which is commonly referred to in perfumephiliac parlance as the "bug spray accord". Both Poison in its foreboding purplish bottle and Giorgio in its yellow-striped kitsch shared this bug spray note: an aroma which had become so popular through the extensive usage of the above perfumes back then that manufacturers of instecticides in a reverse compliment (cheapening the formula) replicated in their...yes, you guessed it, bug sprays! The mental pathway wasn't difficult to lay and forever since bug spray ~and the perfumes that echo it~ have that characteristic sharp, needles-up-the-nose, bitter and strangely floral-from-outer-space tonality which has its fans and its detractors. The mental association isn't a personal favourite for reasons of overdosing on insecticides one memorable tropically-latituded summer in Bali many years ago, so although I admire that kind of fragrances intellectually it isn't something I am comfortable with wearing too often. Still in Michelle that bug spray accord is tempered and tamer, making it friendlier.

If by mentioning tuberose you cast your mind to the timeless Fracas by Piguet with its beautiful yet at the same time coloratura expansive and creamy night blossom, Tubéreuse Criminelle by Lutens with its mentholated, polished soie sauvage or Carnal Flower by F.Malle with its coconut and eycalyptus-ladden tropical ambience, then think again: Balenciaga's forgotten vintage extrait Michelle is none of those things and is a throwback to another era. Surprisingly, Michelle is also sprinkled with a pinch of spice, not listed, a cinnamon-like effect which somehow provides a sweet facet along with the vanilla, yet reinforces the bloody, metallic facets of the tuberose and the wet earthiness of the rose in tandem with moss. It wears beautifully in the heat and eases itself into the cooler days of approaching autumn.

The vintage extrait de parfum which is the concentration in my possession (in the design on the right) is extremely long-lasting and smooth, while the Eau de Toilette (circulating in the classic design of Balenciaga fragrances depicted here) smells about the same, but with a radiance and expansion which could become too much too soon in my opinion.

Notes for Balenciaga Michelle:
Top: Aldehydes, gardenia, green notes, coconut, peach
Heart: Carnation, tuberose, iris, orchid, jasmine, yalng ylang, rose
Base: Sandalwood, oakmoss, musk, benzoin, vanilla, vetiver

Michelle is discontinued, but makes sporadic appearences on Ebay and etailers. The Balenciaga house is currently part of the Gucci Group (part of Pineault Printemps Redoute). Popular again thanks to the success of the "Motorcycle bag" and Nicolas Ghesquiere design and is set to produce a new fragrance under the aegis of Coty fronted by Charlotte Gainsbourg, which questions the possibility of ever resurrecting Michelle.

Related reading on Perfume Shrine: Vintage perfumes, Fragrance history

Pic of vintage coat design by Cristobal Balenciaga via pairofchairs.wordpress.com and of Michelle flacon via ecrater.com