May 1st, Lily of the Valley day: DSH Muguet de Mai & Muguet Cologne & draw!

A lucky symbol ~it means “return of happiness” in the language of flowers~ the delicate beauty of lily of the valley is however poisonous (especially its reddish fruit) due to convallatoxine, convallamarine, and convallarine; a brave irony on the part of Creation! Lily of the valley or muguet in French (Convallaria majalis) is a herbaceous perennial plant prevalent in Asia, Europe and the Eastern USA, with characteristic bell-shaped little flowers, hence its other name May Bells. In France it is customary to give a posy of lilies of the valley on May 1st as a porte-bonheur. This is probably why French residing author Edith Wharton chose lily of the valley as the embodiment of her heroine May Welland in The Age of Innocence, as referenced in more detail in our article about perfume in novels.

Indie perfumer Dawn Spencer Hurwitz has launched two lily of the valley fragrances to celebrate May 1st, Muguet de Mai for women and Muguet Cologne for men; or, as the mood strikes you, interchangeably. They're both light enough and delicious enough to be enjoyed by both sexes. The idea began by Trish who was curious about a botanical lily of the valley note and Dawn was set to task for this diffucult project: You see, lily of the valley does not yield its precious essence satisfactorily enough for perfumery! The problem has perplexed perfumers for long, ending up in LOTV recompositions, the most renowned being Diorissimo by Edmond Roudnitska for Christian Dior. Roudnitska even went so far as to grow his own lily of the valley in his garden and stooping to smell attentively the tiny blossoms at bloom and the soil underneath so as to capture the true essence of the elusive flower. I also love the real-life yet delicate feel of Del Rae Debut, incidentally composed by Michel Roudnitska, Edmond's son.

Dawn began by imagining how she would come up with a viable solution and tested several mods, out of which two pleased her most, enough to launch them as separate fragrances.

Muguet de Mai is a complex composition which goes beyond a simple soliflore, as I sense the perfumer was not trying to simply capture just lily of the valley, and which brings back a forgotten ingredient that constitutes the crowning grace of many classics: resinous galbanum with its bitter green note. Lovers of the classic vintage version of Vent Vert by Balmain know full well what I'm talking about: the bracing feel of galbanum, technically a bottom note of slow evaporation, but surfacing at the very top of a fragrance composition can be the thing that makes or breaks a formula thanks to its sheer power. At the same time, it aids structuring the scent, giving a skeleton on which to work: Preening the harsh edges, without totally annihilating them, mellowing the base, giving a citric jolt that compliments it and fanning it on precious flower essences. That is what Germain Cellier did for the Balmain.
Dawn injected her perfume with galbanum to give it the ambience of a truly botanical atmosphere, the grass and earth still clinging to the flower. She also looked into vintages, specifically Muguet Composé (c.1930′s) and Muguet des Bois (c.1940′s) by Francois Coty, Illusion oil, Lily of the Valley (c.1940′s) by Draille and of course Diorissimo by Edmond Roudnitska for Dior (c.1970′s), taking cues from the editions chronologically referenced. From those she's closer to the woodier Muguet de Bois, but she also went beyond that: You can instantly feel this is an all naturals scent, due to the very botanical profile of the flower essences, in which cassis buds gives off a slightly sour tinge, then mollified by the balsamic elements ~rather animalistic, like honeyed thighs~ that sweeten that effect alongside the (perceptible) linden blossom essence. A unique take on May's 1st traditional good-luck-charm!

Extrait de parfum version was chosen (I believe) to bypass the problem of the fleeting nature of several natural essences: The result is a tempered, tenacious but low-pitched scent.

Notes for DSH Muguet de Mai extrait de parfum:

Top: Bergamot, lemon, Tunisian neroli
Heart: linden, hay accord, violet leaf, cyclamen accord, hyacinth accord, orris rhizome, broom, jasmine sambac, rose, ylang ylang, jonquil, lilac accord

Base: galbanum, cassis buds, East Indian sandalwood, Virginian cedar, Tolu balsam, olibanum (frankincense), honey beeswax, styrax.

Muguet Cologne is a different animal, lighter in tonality but at the same time with a deeper, more spiritual feel thanks to the mossy-grassy elements. The two predominant elements for me were the bitter citrusy tang (which I imagined as a neroli-galbanum duet in my mind, a bit Eau de Cologne meets Vent Vert) and the vetiver grassiness undernearth. I almost imagined a faint frankincense in the base, influenced as I am by the effluvium that comes out of churches mingling as it does with the scents of spring. Green is its mantle and green are the dreams it inspires, a wonderful tribute to men's skin.
Muguet Cologne has great tenacity (it's technically an Eau de Toilette concentration) and projects at just the right pitch to be enjoyed by everyone around. I know I sure did on my very own skin!

Notes for DSH Muguet Cologne:
Top: white grapefruit, chamomile, coriander
Heart: galbanum
Base: Australian sandalwood, patchouli, oakmoss, vetiver

Below is pricing information for the two DSH fragrances, both very limited edition.

Muguet de Mai perfume extrait concentration
5 ml antique presentation: $125
1 ml vials: $22

Muguet Cologne
1 oz muguet cologne: $98
10 ml muguet cologne $45
1 ml vials: $5.25

For our readers, I have 2 samples of Muguet de Mai extrait and 3 samples of Muguet Cologne I'm giving away. Please let me know what lily of the valley does to you in the comments and I will pick the winners.

Please visit the other participating blogs for more impressions on DSH's Muguet editions:

IndiePerfumes (Lucy)

The Non Blonde (Gaia)

CaFleureBon (Ida)

Scent Hive (Trish)

DSH Notebook (Dawn)

Artwork by Dawn Spencer Hurwitz, used with permission.

Disclosure: Samples sent directly by the perfumer.

Guy Laroche Fidji: fragrance review & history

Fidji by Guy Laroche, coming out in 1966, revolutioned the industry in more ways than one: First, it was at chasm with the previous French aesthetic perfumes coming out from French houses & designers. Here there was a fragrance which represented escapism, but that escapism was communicated in very American-shaped methods. Secondly, it showcased that apart from imaginative names (a tradition which knew some excellent examples in the past anyway), every perfume had to deliver a specific story, a story that would address a need and a desire of the audience to whom it was aimed at. Fidji succeeded beautiful but it also happened to be a beautiful perfume to begin with.

Composed by one of the unknown forces in the industry, nose Josephine Catapano, long before perfumers became rock-stars or began composing fragrances to evoke orgasmic effluvia, Fidji, a freshly green floral with tropical inclusions of ylang ylang and carnation, is a fragrance representative of its times and one which influenced many following it, such as Guerlain's Chamade, Cacharel Anais Anais, Chanel No.19, Givenchy III, Climat and even Charlie by Revlon. Fidji pushed to its extremities, on both ends of its skeleton, could be said to have inspired even Lauder for her bitter chypre Private Collection. After all, Catapano also worked for Lauder and IFF for years where she later became the mentor of Sophia Grojsman. Michael Edwards confirms my theory when he says:

[Fidji] “pioneered a new generation of fresh perfumes: Norell (1969), Charlie (1973), Gucci No 1 (1975) and a hundred other fragrances following its lead”.

Guy Laroche launched Fidji at a time when the youth market seemed like a particularly desirable budding segment to advertisers; what with the upheaval of the 1960s which brought out the power of young ideals and the romanticism of following your heart, and what with the desire of the young to map out their own territories, their own olfactory landscapes. These landscapes often revolved around the East or civilizations away from the Western anxieties...such as those of the South Pacific where the Fidji islands are located and the managers of the brand were taking their vacation when the idea formed. The Beatles were leaving for India and the hippies were gathering at Haight Asbury. Refound paradises were especially suggestive. The market demanded different approaches than the traditional "keeping up with the Joneses" social approach (a respectable perfume to assert one's spending power) or the heavy seduction games of old. Thus woman became "an island and Fidji was her perfume" as the memorable motto went. Women-isles through the years clutched the bottle closely to their smooth bosoms in the glossy images; women as famous as supermodel Linda Evangelista who posed for the ads in the early 1990s.

The olfactory inspiration for Fidji comes from another youthful (in its time) classic: L'Air du Temps by Nina Ricci. The salicylate heart with the clove-y tint was taken apart and enrobed in a new cloth, the rest modernised by Catapano accordingly and given a very fresh fuzzy start which is green rather than peachy, and a base with more patchouli and sandalwood which lasts well.

The opening impression of the Laroche scent is one of bitterish freshness with a cool (rather than warm) heart of flowers in which hyacinth pops its head, at odds with the modern expectations of a tropical evoking fragrance atavistically smelling of suntan oil and tiaré blossoms. Fidji isn't especially tropical despite the name and feels just as fitting in an al fresco lunch in the Hamptons in June, silk dresses in shades of paradise birds blowing softly in the breeze, as it does in an outdoor cafe in August-hot Barcelona with Verner Pantone S chairs laid out in orange and green. Its feminine sensuality is derived from the milky woodiness of sandalwood and the subtle musky trail it leaves on skin after the fresh floral notes and the mossy green dissipate; it behaves with delicate elegance and knows its place, even if it keeps its escapist fantasies close at heart.

Unfortunately, Fidji is among the creations which are best savoured in older formulations, as the modern Eau de Toilette, a rare sight at department stores or online, alongside its ancillary products, seems a bit thinned out, although still quite pleasant and many cuts above many more recent launches. Vintage Eau de Cologne concentration looks like a fine medium if you can't get yourself some of the old parfum. It's still available although rarer and rarer in some auction sites.

Notes for Guy Laroche Fidji:
citrus (lemon), galbanum, hyacinth, ylang ylang, carnation (via clove), spices, Bulgarian rose, jasmine, orris, vetiver, oakmoss, sandalwood, patchouli, balsam, musk, ambergris.

A.Tauer Carillon pour un Ange: fragrance review

The newest fragrance by Andy Tauer, Carillon pour un Ange, takes its inspiration from a material that is often described as angelic, lily of the valley. Hence the working name during the creation process was Gabriel. Actually, truth be told, lily of the valley (or muguet as the French call it) is not exactly chastity material as a recent study revealed. Still, the piercingly sweet, very clear and green aroma creates the impression of puerile innocence, of tender cheeks and pouty small mouths.
A carillon on the other hand is a musical instrument composed of at least 23 cup-shaped bells played from a baton keyboard using fists and feet, its sound chiming with piercing clarity, much like the aroma of lily of the valley pierces the air with its declaration of spring's final assertion. So carillon pour un ange, a carillon for an angel... The seraphic allusion is certainly not lost, the fragrance is quite lovely.

The greeness in Carillon pour un Ange is delightfully tinted with the darker, oilier hint of hyacinth as was the case in a former Tauer scent, Hyacinth and a Mechanic. Even though the latter was an experimental batch, serving an SOS purpose on its bottle-message across the world (more details here), it featured at least two of the elements which infiltrated themselves in Carillon: the green hyacinth and the leathery note. In Carillon the leather is very subdued. Instead one almost loses the lily of the valley field for the hesperides grove at some point. Tauer has fetish materials which he uses over and over to great effect: I seem to feel his mandarin peel materialise again and again; it's such a great lifting note that it makes for immediately inviting openings, often coupled with rose as in Une Rose Chyprée, or Incense Rosé. (click for reviews of both)

The challenge with lily of the valley is twofold: One the one hand, it's so easy to lapse into the "salle de bains" hygienic note or the Aisle of Glade (as March puts it), due to its ubiquitness in functional products via several synthetic replications (natural extraction is not cost-effective or yielding enough). Andy Tauer is using a combination of IFF's Lyral and Lilial for his own creation, bypassing the problem of sharpness by the injection of a sweet note reminiscent of violets and lilacs (pink jasmine might be actually creating the lilac impression, the two share a bubble-gummy nectarous headiness).
One the other hand, there is the sacred Diorissimo, an über alles classic if there ever was one; impossible to surpass and one would be wise to not even try. Then again, now that Diorissimo is not recognizing itself in the mirror all too clearly these days due to multiple surgical interventions, one might reconsider. Still, the cleverness lies not in trying to create a limp-wristed or sharp rendition of lily of the valley, nor a pastoral gouache, but to boldly propose a third path: that which marries the white bell with other flowers and which contrasts it with elements to which it is naturally emerging from: the decaying leaves being eaten up by fungi, the woods where it grows, the green tapiserrie on which it sprouts its minuscule bell-shaped blossoms. Thus the base of Carillon pour un Ange takes on woody and skin-soft nuances, mossy, non dirty really (it would be paradoxical, after all), with the shades of love, death and rebirth winking to a theatre full of children watching mesmerised a play of magical marionettes.

Polish composer Zbigniew Preisner says "For me there exists only one music -good music"...and "I compose what is close to my heart". Substitute music with perfumery and you've got Tauer to a T.



Notes for Andy Tauer Carillon pour un Ange: Top: rose, ylang ylang, lilac
Heart: lily of the valley, jasmine, leather
Base: ambergris, moss, woods.

Carillon pour un Ange is available as Eau de Parfum Riche (which lasts very well) in small hand-poured 15ml bottles directly from Tauer Perfumes or on Luckyscent. Samples are available here. We're hosting a giveaway for two full bottles, comment to enter.

Painting Sleep lost in Dreams by James C.Christensen via morgenthruston
In the interests of full disclosure I sampled the perfume through the generosity of the perfumer himself; his is well documented.

Silences by Jacomo: fragrance review

If one could liquidify a handful of Pre-Columbian emeralds of crystal-clear luster into a brewing potion of intense aloofness and exceptional grace, Silences by Jacomo would undoubtedly result. Or imagine catching the cool, bracing moments of air just after a torrent thunderstorm in a tangled green garden when the earth is still humid and electrified. In music scores those "rests" denoting periods of silence account for building tension, the tension felt before a flamboyant burst of the whole orchestra. The overall musical effect of Silences is comparatively akin to getting a pre-emptive glimpse of the slow, indeed silent passage of winter into a blossoming, riotous spring.

Launched in 1978 Silences was created for "the refined woman who knows how to combine fragrance and elegance, and for the mature woman wishing to add a great perfume to her social evenings and superbe attire". The noble lineage can be traced to the archetypal intense green, Balmain's Vent Vert by Germain Cellier, but also the intense dark green that makes the formula of Bandit eau de parfum so uncharacteristically verdant. The galbanum central accord that makes the vintage Vent Vert so achingly fresh is the razor-sharp cut that appears as a vibrant influence in such great green classics as Chanel No.19 , Givenchy III and Alliage by Lauder, with a passing wink to Sisley's Eau de Campagne and Lauder's more chypré progeny, Private Collection, as well. The early and mid-70s was historically a time of intense turmoil in the women's movement which brought about emancipated chypres and intense greens that were eschewing typical polite, ladylike aldehydic florals or the long forgotten seductive wiles of sultry orientals; those latter ones would come back with a vengeance however just about when Silences was introduced and would manage to knock it off its pedestral thanks to groundbreaking commercial success of Opium. Thus Silences was left in oblivion and remains a well-kept secret that deserves to be discovered anew.

Jacomo's Silences begins its intensly green, bitter adventure via the magic of galbanum and hyacinth, and progresses to fresh-cut floral mid-notes with touches of metallic: green jasmine (hedione), rose and lily of the valley (muguet), which hint at the delights of the coming of spring amidst the coolness of wintertime. Silences dries down to a mild, powdery base full of the synergy of warm woods and mossy lichens. Whereas Chanel No.19 counterpoints the richly iris-laden heart with a leathery accent and prominent vetiver in the base, Silences is warmed through the fanning of precious woods and is even drier. The powdery, arid sensation that is left on drydown lasts on the skin for hours and can become quite seductive by itself; if not to others around you, certainly to yourself!

A perfume friend, Maria of Bittergrace Notes, parallels it to "A romantic tryst in an untended garden, as imagined by a nun" in her notorious one-sentence reviews. "Still dewdrop in blend, she cascades without being too shrill" is how fragrance expert Marian Bendeth describes it. Luca Turin had described it in his defunct French 1994 guide as an unpretencious tapering silhouette of cut flower stems, even urging men to try a smidge of it in the morning if they're daring enough.
It is rather unfortunate that those bitter green fragrances with a mossy face powder effect have gone out of fashion for quite some time, thus making a sophisticated marvel like Silences seem out of synch with our current culture worshiping at the altar of hypersweet, nevertheless for those who want to give it a go I find that it has its own share of perverse sexiness.

Although the original comes in a black smooth, crescent bottle in a dark box with iridescence, there has been a new addition, the newer Silences Purple which is more of a sunny white floral in an identical bottle in purple with a matching box in purple iridiscence. The packaging for the classic however appears in two versions as well: the older, un-reformulated one is greyer with the name appearing once, while the newer packaging has the name appearing repeteadly over the box.

Notes for Jacomo Silences:
One set of notes states:
Top: Galbanum, Green Note, Bergamot, Lemon, Orange Blossom .
Middle: Orris, Rose, Muguet, Hyacinth, Jasmin.
Bottom: Moss, Cedarwood, Sandal, Musk .

The current set of notes on the Jacomo site states:
Top: Narcissus absolute, Iris from Florence, Rose, Blackcurrant absolute, Galbanum
Heart: Calendula, Bulgarian rose, Lily of the valley
Bottom: Oak moss, Ambrette, Sandalwood, Vetyver

Jacomo Silences comes in Eau de Parfum concentration and is available on Jacomo's official site and some online stores for very modest prices.

Photo of Jacomo Silences bottle © by Helg/Perfumeshrine.
"The Spanish Inquisition" emerald necklace pictured, is now in the Smithsonian in Washington, DC, and was once owned by Harry Winston. (Photo: Dane Penland/Smithsonian via palagems.com)