Roja Dove Diaghilev: fragrance review

 Much of our information on the particularities of Sergey Diaghilev the man come from the many exhibitions and press catalogues which have been relying on the lasting aftermath of Les Ballet Russes in Europe. Apparently the story of the Diaghilev by Roja Dove fragrance is more complex. 

The fragrance began as an Eau de Parfum concentration as attested by the older advertising images for the Victoria & Albert museum exhibitions and lectures. It then moved to the uniform "whiskey carafe" style of extrait de parfum bottles in a more concentrated form. It is indeed the Eau de Parfum which I had first tried years ago and proclaimed it inwardly "a Mitsouko analogue." (referencing the famous Guerlain perfume from 1919)

glamourdaze

The reference is not lost upon those who know a thing or two about the man through the bibliography on his life and opus. Serge Diaghilev was enamoured with Guerlain's Mitsouko during the height of his career with Les Ballets Russes and used to drench his curtains with it. Drenching the curtains in perfume....sounds so decadent and eccentric, right? The impression must have been something of an autumnal twilight, just as the Guerlain scent segues into the forest floor after immersing you in a liqueur like the fuzzy skin of golden nectarous peaches ripened in the sun... Charlie Chaplin was also a fan. There's something about it that makes creative juices flow.

 joelm

In a way, both Mitsouko by Guerlain and Diaghilev by Roja Dove bring a sense of awakening to the senses upon smelling them. They're both lush, fruity chypre perfumes, and they're both like a beauty coming back from a long-forgotten slumber, like the princess sleeping in the Sleeping Beauty ballet that Les Ballets Russes performed.

 internationalposters

The transition from the citrusy top note is as smooth in Diaghilev as in the Guerlain, with the linalyl acetate of bergamot smoothing the pathway to the core of the chypre skeleton, and piquant notes of spices and herbs (cloves, peppery jolt, tarragon) give a lively burst alongside the plush. The spicy component is a counterpart to the fruity and floral aspects. It's never a flat scent; it's always bronze-y and lush.

 harrods

The modern re-issue took the structure of the Eau de Parfum and gave it in Extrait de Parfum an immensity of duration that far surpasses the 24-hour mark on skin. The old bases like Persicol have tremendous tenacity and the synthetic civet feels like it opens up the best elements, attaching itself to the fruity and floral aspects and making them extend into infinity.

Cartier Panthere and Cartier La Panthere: fragrance review & comparison of vintage vs. modern edition

Reading there are two editions, one old, one new, by Cartier with the emblematic panther in the name, one is faced with an embarrassment of riches. The good news is that perfumer Mathilde Laurent' style is vibrant, luminous, recognizable in the newer incarnation, La Panthère. The bad news (if that is considered bad in itself) is that it bears no copy-paste relation to the previous fragrance,  Cartier  Panthère, launched in 1986 and circulating well into the 1990s to be discontinued later on.

While the older Panthère is a ripe and fruity-saturated perfume which is recalling a trend of the 1980s and mid-90s (and bears a knowing kinship to the later Champagne/Yvresse by Sophia Grojsman with its fruit-liquor density, I always thought, as well as winking to Dior Poison), the newer La Panthère is a musky floral with a healthy dose of oakmoss felt in the base, which gains life on the skin, rather than on the paper blotter on which it is presented in perfumeries. Indeed to judge it by merely its effect on paper would be to misunderstand it.

I like what I smell on a batch of the older, Alberto Morillas composed Panthère which I received through a split from a bona fide collector. My own small bottle from 1991 was in a ramschackle state, due to it being kept on a dresser for the better part of that decade. The little remaining inside had become a thickish goo which muddled all notes together. So jogging my memory was necessary. The rather significant amount I ordered proves that my former instincts are correct.

The floral notes (tuberose amongst them) are so honeyed and dense (and warmed up by civet notes) that they gain an overripe fruitiness, reminiscent of grappa spirits. The resinous qualities have an aldehydic brilliance to them and a tenacity which has both influential wake (you sniff this from time to time on yourself) and good lasting power, either on skin or on clothes. It's a perfume that seems out of joint with the modern sensibilities in a way, yet like 24 Faubourg it doesn't smell really retro, just mature and "full." Contrary to 24 Faubourg, nevertheless, the older Panthère's aura is less formal and a little more playful, at least to me.

In contrast the newer 2014 La Panthère (differentiated both by bottle and by the article "La" [sic], i.e. "the" before the animal-emblem) spells modern sensibilities galore, yet done in a very tasteful way. Much like Baiser Vole (which let it be noted I liked a lot) was Laurent's take on one of the mega-trends of recent perfumery, that is, the gently powdery floral, here in La Panthère takes some of the tricks of the illusionist, making you see fruit (fresh, tart, like pear liqueur, greenish too, a touch of budding gardenias) while the floral bouquet develops beyond any doubt and gains radiance by the hour. The underscoring by musks fortunately doesn't tilt the perfume into laundry detergent territory, as many fear due to the abundance of musk molecules in functional products used for cleaning and drying our clothes due to their hydrophobic properties (which ensure a lasting impression).

Specifically Musk ketone in the base, which smells warm, inviting, pulsating from the skin, forms an aura that warms up with the heat of the body. Although previously restricted and disappearing from perfumes, it is re-introduced and utilized by some (but not all!) perfume companies and perfume labs. It is exactly its thermoregulating properties which are lost on the blotter, so I advice giving it some time to evolve on the warmth of someone living. The mossy notes brings the composition closer to something which indeed has a 1980s kin than anything. Yet it still remains contemporary, youthful, sparkling with life, a modern chypre. One of the better releases so far.

I really like the concave bottle which is carved from the inside to hold the juice into the cavity formed by the panther's head. In all sincerity I found the commercial (and the overly "meaningful" gaze of the model) yawn-inducing. But your mileage may vary.

Available at major department stores internationally.

Guerlain Mitsouko: fragrance review & history

Few perfumes are entangled in such mythos and in such erroneous rumours as Mitsouko by Guerlain. Mysterious, balanced, sumptuous, it's nothing short of a Gordian Knot which demands a swift cutting through its mysteries to arrive at the truth. And truth is not easily provided for this 1919 fragrance which closed the era of WWI and opened up Les Années Folles.

Famous patrons & their fateful stories on Mitsouko
Jean Harlow, the platinum blonde sex-pot of the 1930s who was born on March 3rd 1911, all slinky peignoirs and ice put on the nipples behind those satiny gowns, used Mitsouko in Dinner at Eight; it was her favourite fragrance in real life. Her platinum head was not what the creators at Guerlain had originally thought of: Mitsouko was right from the start destined for brunettes, while L'Heure Bleue was recommended for blondes. She gladly embraced both, much like she let her hairdresser put peroxide, ammonia, Clorox, and Lux Flakes on her naturally darker hair.
Little did Jean know that her first husband Paul Bern would be found dead and drenched in Mitsouko in a astounding case of a suicide just one week after the wedding. Rumours say that it was impotence that drove him to his act of desperation. Jean was put to record saying all three marriages she got into were "marriages of inconvenience". Perhaps the sad story inspiring Mitsouko perfume was a bad omen for her love life as well.

It certainly didn't really bring good luck to other famous patrons, such as the impressario of Les Ballets Russes, Sergei Diaghilev (who drenched his curtains with it) or Charlie Chaplin. In the unexpurgated diary of erotic authoress Anais Nin, Henry and June, Mitsouko features prominently as the perfume that June Miller asks to be given her by Anais. Of course, to follow the truism by Gore Vidal [1], lying had become Nin's first nature, so all bets are off on whether that actually happened: What remains is that Mitsouko was indeed Nin's scent of choice, alongside Narcisse Noir by Caron. Such is the repercussion of the scent in cultural heritage that a pop sensation of the late 1980s, the French duo of Les Rita Mitsouko christened themselves after it!

photo via toutenparfum

The Legend of the Creation: Myth and Misunderstandings


Lore on the inspiration of Mitsouko wants Jacques Guerlain to have wanted to pay homage to a popular novel of the time, “La Bataille” by Claude Farrère. In it Mitsouko, a beautiful Japanese woman and the wife of Admiral Togo, is secretly in love with a British officer aboard the flagship of the Japanese fleet during the 1905 war between Russia and Japan; Mitsouko awaits with dignity the outcome of the battle, nobly overcoming her feelings. Hence derives the confusion about the spelling of the name: although Mitsuko [sic] is a Japanese word, neither is it spelled Mitsouko nor does it mean "mystery" as the official press of Guerlain would like us to believe. Like other perfume tales, it's just that: a romantic allusion to "zee love storee" that enslaves women's imagination and stirs men's loins.

It's a fascinating discovery to find that Mitsouko despite its technical mastery and sumptuous character, and my friend's wittism when sniffing off a vintage bottle that "it smells the way a porn film would", isn't one for seduction: Luca Turin in his 1993 French guide recommended against such a use. It's debatable whether he did so because he found it not immediately accesible for such a purpose or because he deemed it highly intellectualised to demean it via lowly feminine wiles. The fact remains that although highly revered, Mitsouko is one fragrance which the Western man rarely considers as traditionally "sexy" among a stable of fruity chypres that manage to convey the idea of sexiness and erotic proximity much more readily: Rochas Femme, Diorama, even YSL Yvresse... Fruity chypres due to their typically lusher, more "golden" character with an injection of decay (fruit can easily go from ripe to overripe, recalling how a woman can do so as well) are a noted exception within that group of cerebral fragrances known as "chypres". Mitsouko could be the equivalent of someone reading the Financial Times in terms of smarts and composure. Perhaps this is why its erotic tension is not immediately understandable.

Cinematic References
In Louis Bunuel's cult classic Belle de Jour respectable newly-wed doctor's wife, but frigid and masochistic, Catherine Deneuve accidentaly smashes a huge "flacon montre" of Mitsouko in a symbolic scene in her bathroom before setting to spend the afternoon as a prostitute. Would the scene work equally well semiotically with another perfume? Doubtful...

Perfume writer Susan Irvine recounts how one day in Paris she shared a taxi with a woman [wearing Mitsouko] who smelled "the way God intended women to smell: plush, troubling and golden" [2]. And goes on to reveal in a Vogue article that adopting Mitsouko for a year produced no comments whatsoever from anyone, contrary to her compliments galore success with YSL Paris!

Understanding the erotic dimension of Mitsouko

Perhaps what's most interesting about the strange position of Mitsouko in its erotic charge is how it encapsulates two quite different perspectives on how human bodies should or would smell of. The 19th-century Japanese referred to western traders as "batakusai", which roughly translates as "stinks of butter" due to their high dairy consumption which gave their skin a cheesy aspect (isovaleric and butyric compounds do that); while the Brits found the Japanese in turn "fishy", again a reflection on an insular diet. How would the British officer and the beautiful Japanese wife named Mitsouko would have found a middle-ground between their human scents of passion?

Nowadays, Mitsouko is Guerlain's top seller in Japan, in a reverse homage to the brand that ushered Japonism in the mainstream many decades ago. This goes against all received wisdom that the Japanese go for "light" perfume and only rarely ever put it on themselves. One wonders if the cultural milieu of accepting smells that are different than those perceived as pleasurable in the West allows them a higher appreciation of this masterpiece of a scent.

Deconstructing the scent & formula of Mitsouko

The composition of Mitsouko was revolutionary at the time, even though it updated and -arguably- improved on the seminal formula of F.Coty's Chypre: The innovative peach-skin note perceived at the heart of the Guerlain fragrance derives from a modern synthetic ingredient, aldehyde C14 or gamma undecalactone (Peach essence cannot be naturally extracted). The inclusion of the famous base Persicol ("bases" are ready made smell-chords for perfumers) which included it contributes to the peachy, warm effect. Flanked by murky oakmoss and refreshing bergamot at each end ~thus composing a classic chypre chord~, it adds spicy accents reminiscent of cinnamon and cloves ~especially felt in the Eau de Toilette version which circulated till recently.  

Mitsouko also utilizes rose, neroli (a light-smelling orange blossom distillation product), woods, vetiver and patchouli for a short but succinct formula which balances itself between apothecary and pattiserie. The candied orange peel effect mollifies every herbal aspect, while the flowers are so subdued and well-blended as not to be discernible as such; if abstraction is elegance, then Mitsouko is very elegant indeed, without nevertheless losing its sensuality; there's a furry little animal hiding underneath it all, although you can't really place it!

The mysterious, haughty fragrance is in chasm with every recent pop trend, making a difficult love-affair much like its storyline; nevertheless indulging in a bottle of Mitsouko is the hallmark of the true connoisseur, like a fine Pinot Noir wine can be an acquired taste. If you try and do not like it in the end, there is no reason to beat yourself up for it, just because we proclaim it such a beautiful and smart fragrance; but be sure to give it a chance in different times, different weather (it expresses itself wonderfully on rainy days, which bring to the fore its earthy core) and different moods. After all, as The Bombshell Manual of Style declares: “Mitsouko has more sensuous layers to unpeel than Rita Hayworth dancing the Dance of the Seven Veils as Salome."

Comparing Mitsouko concentrations & vintages

Different concentrations and different vintages produce different effects. Vintage parfum extrait is so rich and luscious as to render experiencing Mitsouko a rare occasion of olfactory satiation. The oakmoss galore of as recent crops as Eau de Toilette and Parfum de Toilette from the 1980s and early 1990s is exquisite in its unsettling, deeply mossy ambience. The modern Eau de Parfum version reworked by Edward Flechier (this happened in early 2007 due to oakmoss restrictions imposed by European Union legislature, with Eau de Toilette being the first to reformulate) is the best rendition closer to the original idea, while the current Eau de Toilette seems thinned and yielding a bread, yeasty note which I personally feel is incongruent with the image which I have in my head of it.

Bottle Designs

The classic bottle design, called “inverted heart” because of its cap, reprises the design of another Guerlain classic L’Heure Bleue which was issued in 1912, due to the shortages of World War I [3]. It's the golden standard on which both Eau de Toilette and Eau de Parfum still circulate to this day. After the success of Mitsouko, the design stayed, as a gentle stylistic reminder of the two bottles opening and closing the period between the beginning and the end of the war. And indeed if L’Heure Bleue is contemplative daydreaming and above all romantic like La Belle Epoque, Mitsouko is mysterious and emancipated heralding the era of flappers like no other perfume.

Other presentations include the flacons quatrilobe, amphora/rosebud and umbrella bottle (for the extrait de parfum) and the montres (cyclical bottles with a gold pyramidal cap) for the very lasting and robust vintage eau de cologne concentration circulating throughout the 50s, 60s and 70s with the mint green, round label.
A limited edition flanker called Mitsouko Fleur de Lotus circulated a couple of seasons ago (you can read our review on it on the link).

Notes for Guerlain Mitsouko:
Top: Bergamot, Lemon, Mandarin, Neroli
Middle: Peach, Rose, Clove, Ylang-Ylang, Cinnamon
Base: Oakmoss, Labdanum, Patchouli, Benzoin, Vetiver.

Related reading on Perfume Shrine: Guerlain reviews, The Chypre Series

[1] In Palimpsest, a Memoir
[2] Irvine, S. The Perfume Guide, 2000 Haldane Mason
[3] Guerlain archives
pics via felixhollywood blog and parfum de pub

Amouage Jubilation 25: fragrance review

My tumultuous love affair with chypres has always been like flipping through the pages of an old family album; grudgingly recognising familiar features reflected on my own visage and looking quizzically yet with admiration on fashions past. Jubilation 25 by Amouage comes as the crowning glory of an introspection in sepia, ascertaining its place as one of my core favourites ever since its launch. In my ever expanding collection it is competing for stage space with the beautiful bell jars of the Parisian exclusives of Serge Lutens, to which it feels like kin.

The comparison with the olfactory seraglio of Lutens comes naturally, Arabia the Felix being at the DNA-helix of both. But whereas Lutens’s elixirs speak beneath dark-kholed lids assuming nevertheless a Japonesque apocryphal coyness, Jubilation 25 flaunts its proud breast in the fabled manner of perpulchra Eleanor of Aquitane astride her horse on the Second Crusade while facing the gates of Damascus.

The Omani uber-luxe brand Amouage released Jubilation 25 in 2007 to celebrate its 25th anniversary with their customary brief: spare no expense! To that effect let’s remind ourselves of the free reign legendary perfumer Guy Robert (Hermès Equipage, the buttery soft Doblis and Calèche, Christian Dior Dioressence, Madame Rochas) received upon the commission of creating the introductory fragrance of the house of Amouage when it was established in 1983 by the Sultan of Oman. Now named Amouage Gold, along with Amouage Dia, for men and women, the scents help prove that opulence acts as a constant in the direction of the venerable and genuinely exotic house.

Composed by Lucas Sieuzac, (Fashion Group International's Rising Star award receiver in 2004), Jubilation 25’s resolutely noble lineage can be traced to the succulent and confidently sexy fruity chypres of yore, like Rochas Femme, hold the exuberance, and Guerlain Mitsouko, hold the wistfulness. Pointedly the antecedent accord in the heart of Jubilation 25 is that of Edmond Roudnitska’s enigmatic Diorella, minus the melon freshness and flanked by a generous side helping of amber and resins. Yet in many ways the Amouage fragrance is a seasoned grand dame whereas Diorella is a budding ingénue of aristocratic pedigree. The intense hedonic character of the fruity nectar is not far removed from the legendary Colony by Jean Patou.

Smelling Jubilation 25, soft billowing layers of rose reveal themselves one after the other as if testing a rich millefeuille, while the sumptuous sensation of liqueur-like essences such as davana compliment the fruitier facets of the floral accord. The beguiling austerity of liturgical essences (frankincense, myrrh) is contrapuntist to the nectarous tonalities and the unmistakably mossy-woody base foiling them ~which makes the chypre accord so complex and intensely memorable. In comparison to Rochas Femme (and especially the 80s reformulated version), Jubilation 25 comes off as more lemony and delicately ambery, less spicy but with a discreet leathery aftertaste. Surprisingly, it exhibits a more cultivated Gallic air than the French-born themselves! Its amazing lasting power is testament to its firm grip on your heartstrings, if you are even remotely attracted by the genre of fruity chypres, of which it is a stellar example.

Amouage Jubilation 25 notes:
Top: tarragon, rose, lemon, and ylang ylang
Heart: davana, labdanum, rose, and frankincense
Base: amber, musk, vetiver, myrrh, and patchouli.

Amouage Jubilation 25 Eau de Parfum comes in 50ml/1.7oz and 100ml/3.4oz bottles and sometimes it’s available in 25ml starter bottles which are excellent value for money considering the high quality of the juice.

Related reading on Perfume Shrine: Chypre scents, Chypre series.


Pic via wickedhalo.blogspot.com
Clip of The Lion in Winter originally uploaded by Moviemonologues on Youtube.

Intoxicated ~Yvresse (Champagne) by Saint Laurent: fragrance review

Is there anything more French than Champagne? The delicate fizz of this refreshing wine is irresistible. Its little bubbles burst on the palate as they incessantly move upwards in the fluted crystal glasses in long, long ribbons with all the gusto of exotic dancers, making me dream.
Champagne, produced by inducing the in-bottle secondary fermentation of wine to effect carbonation, is also protected under "appellation": An appellation is a geographical indication used to identify where the grapes for a wine were grown. In the case of champagne, the wine enjoyed an appellation control by virtue of legal protection as part of the Treaty of Madrid (1891). It was stated there that only sparkling wine produced in the Champagne region and adhering to the standards defined for an Appellation d'Origine Contrôlée could be called "champagne." This right was even reaffirmed in the Treaty of Versailles after WWI.
And here is where Yves Saint Laurent and his fragrance steps in...

Yvresse, the feminine fruity chypre by Yves Saint Laurent, was composed by Sophia Grojsman (previously responsible for the mega-hit Paris) and originally launched in 1993 as Champagne. Even the bottle recalled the cork-stoppered bottles of the French elixir with its twisted gold metal detailing. But upon its issue, the French winegrowers protested, even resorting to smashing bottles of champagne in front of the journalists who had arrived in Paris for the launch party. Pierre Bergé, president of the brand, had had to scuffle with the vinoculturists and the battle for the name was afoot. After a lawsuit resulting in a legal battle which Parfums Yves Saint Laurent lost, they rechristened the fragrance Yvresse : a clever and elegant word play on “ivresse” -which means "intoxication/drunkenness" in French- with Saint Laurent’s initial “Y”).
It was at that crucial no man's land point in time that advertisements circulated on which it was noted: Sous ce nom je serai bientôt un objet rare. (I will soon be a rare object under this name). The red-sequins dressed woman was holding her hands in the air in a shape of Y, recalling the advertisements of Saint Laurent's other chypre, the magnificent and dry Y.
It was at that point that I had secured my bottle. I know it has become a collectible.
Later on, the emphasis of the slogan shifted and two elements mingled: the pettillant (sparkling) aspect of champagne: "un hommage aux femmes qui petillent"(a hommage to women who sparkle); and the forbidden touch that was traced back to Opium: "Les femmes adorent les interdits" (women love the forbidden), with perhaps a wink to L'interdit by Givenchy.


Yvresse is an excess of an effervescing fruity chypre, nostalgic for an era of full-bodied both wines and women with complex personalities and secrets behind the festive facade. It's full of overripe notes, like a bruised apricot, that recall to mind more an eau de vie with sweet violets on top or a "bellini" of mashed peach purée and sparkly Prosecco than actual champagne, although it does retain the sparkling quality of the delicate bubbles. The latter makes for an impressive swoosh upon first spraying without the tingling of the nostrils that makes the experience of sipping champagne so naughtily indulgent. Wait for it to develop fully though and it has a tipsy effect that is comparable. Yvresse has a buttery quality about it, with an oak tone like the used barrels of fermented spirits. In a way its petulant character traces its antecedents in the hideously beautiful Que Sais-Je? by Jean Patou (composed by Henri Alméras in 1925), a more robust example of a honeyed fruity chypre.
The violet, mint and spicy aniseed notes of Yvresse, piquant along with the earthier chypre accord, combine to give a character of both brightness and sophistication, celebrating in a decadent way. Yvresse is meant to be worn by bubbling, spirited women (or daring men) who can hold their own and laugh their way during a dull soirée, not needing others to make it a celebratory occasion.

Notes:
Top: nectarine, mint, aniseed, cumin, violet
Heart: "blue rose", rose, lychee, carnation, cinnamon, jasmine
Base: vetiver, oakmoss, patchouli

There is also an Yvresse Eau de Toilette Légère (light version) which replaces nectarine fruit with nectarine flower, aniseed with blackcurrant leaves, rose with mimosa and lychee with white lilac. It's less sweet and less "ripe".

For those who find Yvresse likable but perhaps too much and more mature than they would like, Deci Delà by Nina Ricci, a now discontinued but easily found online perfume, is quite close in spirit and smell. It adds a taste of hazelnut and vanilla and eases on the boozy, but with a more playful air that would satisfy a younger audience.

Pic of drunk (?) lady by owenbooth on Flickr.
Ad pic courtesy of parfumdepub.