Diptyque Lunamaris: fragrance review

 Lunamaris by Diptyque, part of the new collection Les Essences, inspired by rare natural materials, managed to capture my attention and eventually my preference within the new line-up. It's a sleeper, that I suspect will please a lot of people if only given a chance to try it out. It grows on you. This fragrance genre has an affinity for prompting introspection and daydreaming, akin to listening to Eric Satie and his collective opus of Gymnopédies and Gnossiennes. Music that eases the mind and set forth a spiritual mood, with restrained sentimentality and low vibration sounds that stir the senses in a non flamboyant way. It's excellent for doing mental work, as its lack of words helps with concentration and -much like baroque music, though in a different way- it aids the mind to put a flow into thoughts. 

                    photo via pinterest

 The intention was transliterating the effect of mother of pearl or nacré into a scent. Perfumer Fabrice Pelegrin worked on the dual nature of mother-of-pearl, iridescent and whiteish, with a combination of resins. Cistus labdanum and frankincense-myrrh are played into the effects of the structure. It gives a fresh, cool ambience backed by subtle warmth which blooms on the skin when the fragrance is finally settling. To transliterate this beauty and dream-like quality into a fragrance it needed materials and chords that echo this subtlety and low-key dazzling of the senses. Perfume lovers can think of some: irises, metallic effects, shimmery incense effects, mineral chords, rose oxides... No innovation then in the composite parts of Lunamaris the fragrance, but excellent execution, something I'm giving more and more attention to. An incense with spicy notes and a fresh feeling, it easily comes through victorious. The poetic name, which unites the notions of the moon (luna) and the sea (maris) creates a tension that almost pre-empts the image of a dark nightime seascape where the silvery path of moonbeams sheds its magic upon the waters. It's dreamy in itself. 

                              photo via pinterest

 The myrrh and labdanum components give Lunamaris a vibrant feel, bittersweet and mysterious and almost abstract. I also detect a certain rosiness, the kind that is vegetal, pure, botanical and not liquer-ish or femininely floral. This is attributed to pink peppercorns, or in French baies roses. Of course Diptyque has cemented a cult favouring of their legendary Baies candle, so it fits effortlessly into their fine fragrances too. Contrary to what most people associate with pepper or peppercorns, baies have a rosy texture, adding flavour and aroma but no real heat to the palate when tasted. Therefore the subtle spiciness and the becoming, rosy aroma contributes to fragrances in a way that cannot be tagged retro under any guise, fully justifying why perfumers have used pink pepper with abandon in the last couple of decades in contemporary compositions. This was exploited in Toy Boy by Moschino too, recently, in order to give a non feminine feel to a fragrance geared towards men. 

 Overall the scent of Lunamaris is dry, completely unisex, devoid of any retro or stereotypically feminine or masculine traits and produces that zen quality we associate with an experience at a temple or a high-end spa retreat. It is clean and definitely minimalist luxury. There is also a musk inside which I suspect is Cashmeran, adhering to the skin in a very nice way, and yet projecting fine to others coming into the radius of its appealing aura. The lasting power is also very good, tenacious over the course of a working day.

Available as Eau de Parfum. 

L' Erbolario Assenzio: fragrance review

Although Assenzio Aqua di Profumo by Italian pharmacist-inspired brand L' Erbolario is an older scent, I only truly discovered it last year, testing it again and again, and contemplating a full bottle of my own for the coming months. 

via pinterest

The Italian name means absinth and it effortlessly recalls ringlets of fragrant smoke rising from a censer into the ethers, which is totally fitting for days of recollection and pensiveness, since incense is usually burnt into a censer and left to rise. Frankincense has a citrusy top note and this is beautifully fanned out in Assenzio, where the citrus and herbal part (bitterish artemisia and wormwood) is the introduction to the hazy, billowy development. 

Perfume lovers have beautiful and zen-quality words to say about it. Silver Hiccup writes in Fragrantica, "Assenzio is ultimately a very gentle, flowy scent, like a fluffy cloud that envelops you. I can admit that for me, it may carry a sense of melancholy."  Cerise Noir writes, "I love this powdery, herbal sweetness. Makes me feel so clean and calm." Abraham 7 says, "An ancient, green, relaxing charm."

Others, like Kioflare are mixed: "The opening is really quite masculine, astringent and not particularly pleasant [...] reminds me in a sense of Penhaligon's Blenheim Bouquet, which I was not particularly fond of. This goes on for about 15-20 min. The drydown showcases its truly marvellous and gentle side. That is the real unisex herbal talcum [...] becomes a bit chalky sweet, the herbs shine through, but they leave a gentle and warm impression, like a green powdery caress."

Although Assenzio has been compared to Felce Azzura, the famous shower gel and dusting powder products from Italy, another South-eastern European reference that is often conflated with incense, due to the dry soapy-piney ambience, it is not a replication of that (admittedly amazing) scent. But it's worth trying all the same, because the herbal qualities will appeal to lovers of the Italian classic of grooming all the same. 

Best of all? This quiet scent has an array of ancillary products to enjoy from morning till bed-time... Bliss. 

NB. The Aqua di Profumo concentration is the equivalent of Eau de Toilette. 

 

Official notes for Assenzio by L' Erbolario:

Top notes are Wormwood, Amalfi Lemon and Orange.
Middle notes are Artemisia, Coriander, Lavender and Cardamom.
Base notes are Musk, Carnation, Geranium, Patchouli, Benzoin and Cedar.

Montale Luban -incense with guts: fragrance review

 There is a serenity but also a dark horror surrounding incense. The zen and the apocryphal. Which is which, each time? While Kilian's Incense Oud composition is overwhelmingly frankincense dominant rather than aloeswood (oudh), which is exactly why I like it so much, in Montale's Louban, the dominance of frankincense betrays the given pyramid and audience's impressions: there is no distinct oudh with its usual bitter, medicinal and smoky nuance, but neither is it associated with the Middle East, being more reminiscent of Ethiopian dry landscapes with their resinous bushes and trees. 

Nummen by Husvik, via Pinterest

 

Mysterious citrusy-pine effects zing at the top of Montale Louban, as sour and crystal clear white frankincense does (after all, this is what luban means according to our Arab speaking readers) and this overwhelms the nostrils initially. A phase that may be considered sharp by non-mystics, but necessary for the spiritual uplifting and purification that frankincense brings - literally and figuratively.

And because the heat is rising as we speak, coupled with Saharan sand winds that travel over the Mediterranean, this dry incense has been keeping me company for the gloomiest days when the sky is cast with this alien shade of orange-grey that denotes a Saharan gust of sand storm...It's priceless.

Boss Bottled Elixir: fragrance review

Although we tend to overlook Boss fragrances, if only because of their ubiquitousness and confusing names, apparently, they still possess the power to surprise us. Color me impressed, then, upon discovering that Boss Bottled Elixir is nothing short of an anomaly in the usual Boss range.

It's exciting, atypical in the roster, certainly night-time material, and with a dark streak that defies the 'fitting in' average guy profile we tend to associate with the brand. Call it a prejudice, but it's nice demolishing these with the hammer of Thor sometimes, isn't it? Boss Bottled Elixir was conceived by Annick Menardo, a beloved perfumer of cult hits, and Suzy le Helley, and that explains some things. The intersection of incense and cedar is a direct quote from the niche segment, while cardamom, with its cooling aura, lifts the darker elements of the labdanum base. Yet the dark base is unmistakably there throughout. It's booming like a bass coming from a car's sound system far away. The resinous-patchouli-turned-soil chord is dominant and deliciously done. Its smoky elements come through via the smokey facet of patchouli and vetiver coupled and reflected by the smoky aspect of incense. Perfect for nights out and great overall.

Hermes Un Jardin sur le Nil: fragrance review

 My friend Chandler Burr unfolded the story of how the charming and cerebral Jean Claude Ellena was inspired for this fragrance in a New Yorker piece which catapulted a series of events for both him and perfumery reportage. Looking for the starting point of inspiration in Aswan, traveling the Nile, aquatic plants gave way to unripe mangoes as the team of Hermès travelled up to the roots of the great river. An aura of coolness enveloped the French perfumer: he now had the idea!

 via

 Un Jardin sur le Nil was the second of the Hermès Garden series, following the bitter green smelling one, Un Jardin en Mediterranee inspired by a plate of figs offered in a Moroccan garden.

  This unisex Hermès fragrance, Un Jardin sur le Nil (a garden on the Nile) smells more like claw-wound grapefruit than the green mango inspiration behind it. This idea of grapefruit has been on the mind of Jean Claude Ellena ever since In Love Again for Yves Saint Laurent. He has been toying and toiling with it in Rose Ikebana, for the Hermessences boutique exclusives and in Cologne Eau de Pamplemousse Rose. The idea of a lasting, fresh, juicy grapefruit which retains the tartness and subtle bitterness underneath the citrusy quality is a holy grail for him. Here it is triumphant and energizing, effervescent almost, a bullwhip for the flesh. 

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But Un Jardin sur le Nil soon settles into a woody and starchy serenity that lends some welcome peace of mind (and courage) to a very hot day. Its incense aura lasts...and lasts...and lasts...as long as the journey to the sources of the Nile itself.

Beautiful in any season and very welcome in a hot spell. 

Serge Lutens La Myrrhe: fragrance review

Frankincense is met at the church as the censer spreads the fragrant smoke in the congregation. Myrrh is met at asketaria; monastic places of anchorites who end up their days exuding the smell of sanctity...or so witnesses say. In the iconoclastic La Myrrhe by Serge Lutens myrrh takes center stage given a centripental force spin which makes you lean your neck all the way up to there to just observe the gracious arc before it plunges into bittersweet soap¨aldehydes play their part with bravado. The overlaying accents of mandarin and honeyed notes melt's La Myrrhe's bitter resinous heart into the illusion of prettiness. When in fact it's a compellingly strange study in contrasts.

via

The word "demon" (δαίμων) means spirit or divine power replete with knowledge in classical Greek mythology; at least up to the Neo-Platonics. Hence Socrates's famous claim of "being true to his inner demonium" and Diotema's lesson to him in Plato's Symposium that "love is a greater demon". Is myrrh therefore a demon? An entity between material (mortal) and spirit (divine knowledge)?

Myrrh is indeed someplace between the two; its very nature bears this duality. On the one side a numbing of the senses; a narcotic hedone that lulls the pain. On the other a scourging bitterness that reminds us of the pain of life. Two isomers that share the same structure arranged in different ways; two faces of Janus.

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Lutens and his perfumer sidekick Christopher Sheldrake were therefore the first to showcase the Janus-like nature of myrrh for all its worth in their epoch making creation. Experiencing La Myrrhe takes multiple uses to savor the bittersweet elements and the waxy-aldehydic shimmer that glistens upon skin application. I very much doubt I was fully aware of the complexity and irony built into it when zooming on the reddish liquid and paying for it that momentous time back. It must have been pure instinct or the patron saint of perfumery St. Magdalene who guided my young hand; it was my very first "bell jar" out of the purple seraglio in the Palais Royal and it marked me with its duality ever since.

Serge Lutens La Religieuse: new fragrance

The divide between darkness and light, between sanctity and profanity, between spirituality and carnality, and the overtones of a Catholic upbringing with its clash of good & evil have for long haunted the imagination of the master, mr.Serge Lutens himself. The contrast of white on black is another of the recurring themes in the canon of Lutens perfumes composed by perfumer Christopher Seldrake. (Just remember the furore about the white skin of his imaginary heroine when Serge Noire was luanched).

Jared Kubicki-Alafoto Photo Gallery via

La Religieuse ("the nun") is the latest Lutensian scent opus, a new unisex fragrance launching on January 30th 2015, focusing on the contrast between white jasmine (the flower of carnality and the South), incense (the religious reference par excellence) and the skin-compatible animalic notes of civet and musk. The monastic name isn't that hard to pin down, it being the title of a famous 18th century epistolary novel by Denis Diderot, posthumously published (and itself a reflection of Lettres Portugaises). In it, the fictional nun in question finds the life in the convent insufferable and pleads with the Marquis, a friend of the French author, to deliver her from her vows.
Can the fragrance be a social commentary in our modern age when religion is again exerting a powerful grip on impressionable minds?

The new Lutens perfume, La Religieuse, is part of the export line, encased in the familiar oblong bottles of the house and tinted an ecclesiastical purple.

Uniting only favorite notes of mine and a concept simpatico to the Lutensian universe, if it proves half as wearable as L'Orpheline I'm sold.

Related reading on Perfume Shrine: Serge Lutens fragrance news & reviews

Divine Spirituelle: fragrance review and samples draw

Certain perfumes give an illusory first impression like people who come into a party seemingly underdressed only to impress you with their smarts and true chic as the night unfolds. Spirituelle, the latest Divine fragrance, an at once delicate and spirited take on the rosy powdery floral, took me a cursory first sniff and then a much more attentive one to appreciate its twists that put the chic into the chica. It ended up winning me and might win you too if you're either a floral phobic or a rose hater, so lend me your eyes for a sec.

Bulle Ogier via Photobucket/francomac123

Two major themes play into the blueprint of Spirituelle. The first one is a dessert-worthy succulent note that derives from the two rose absolutes (one from Turkey, the other from France), flanked by rosy, fresh spice on one side and a smooth lightly ambery caress on the other. The feeling is not unlike the deliciousness of Neela Vermeire's Mohur eau de parfum, rendered here more ethereal and a bit less dense. Never too sweet, but inviting.

The second theme is the wink of a smoky cigarette note that rises only from a certain distance. The French are known for their predilection for smoking and I don't smoke myself as a rule, so the illusory effect is not a trail off my clothing or skin. Rather it recalls the practice of French perfumes of yore which had a compatible ambience to human habits: food, sex, drink and smoke. The hand is quicker than the eye (or the nose, as circumstances apply): the effect is lightweight and imperceptible if not told about beforehand. Chapeau then for such a clever little conjurer's trick which makes Divine Spirituelle go beyond the polite, prim and beige rose perfume that so many fragrance companies issue for Victoriana admiring fans, without on the other hand falling into the commonality of either patchouli nor oud.


Spirituelle comes as the 11th creation for Divine, the small niche brand by Yvon Mouchel, founded in the small town of Dinard. Perfumer Richard Ibanez who worked on Spirituelle has been a longtime partner with the Divine brand: he was the one composing the word-of-mouth cult first Divine scent, Divine by Divine.

I have 6 perfume samples for an equal number of lucky readers. Please let me know your experiences with rose in the comments to be eligible for the draw. Draw is open internationally till Friday midnight and winner will be announced in the weekend.

Fragrance notes for Divine Spirituelle:

Top: pink pepper, Sichuan pepper, geranium, cistus
Middle: May rose absolute, Anatolian rose absolute
Base: Texas cedarwood, white amber, white musk, incense.

Spirituelle is available as eau de parfum (50, 100, 200ml splash bottles or 30 and 50 refillable spray bottles) and as pure parfum extrait 20ml.

Aedes de Venustas Oeillet Bengale: fragrance review

If like me you have been searching for a Catherine Earnshaw kind of fragrance all your life, then the options haven't always been that populous. Sure, there are some wild perfumes out there but they either (deliciously) run butch or raunchy (Bandit or Tabu), extremely sophisticated (Tabac Blond, Poivre, Coup de Fouet) or possessing that kind of French veneer that makes the Versailles what they are and not a rough stone house on the moors (YSL Opium, Coco de Chanel). I'm extremely surprised and overjoyed to find out that Oeillet Bengale, the third fragrance by Aedes de Venustas (the famous niche perfume boutique in NYC) is a Catherine-Earnshaw-by-way-of-India and that's mighty fine by me; this feral thing is so beguiling, one can forgive it a wandering spirit, even beyond the grave.

Oeillet Bengale like its namesake (the Bengal tiger) conjures the vision of a wild, fiery, untamed thing, oozing feline sex appeal and the sort of charm which keeps you on your toes rather than winning you over with an easy smile and pleading puppy eyes. It also conjures the temples of India, garlanded by flowers and smoky with woody-smelling incense, a sort of Kipling novela written in the register of smells.

Oeillet Bengale by Aedes de Venustas boldly goes where modern niche carnation fragrances go, that is more Vitriol d'Oeillet (Lutens) than Bellodgia (Caron). The spicy component, fresh and dark, like an electric storm in a land of immense skylines that go on forever, lends it well into night wear, while the combination of resinous smells and floral notes gives it a Queen of Sheba via a modern sort of vibe. This is a wonderful fragrance for either men or women who exude sophistication (or aim at doing so!) because the smoky pepperiness—with its incense-y ambience—doesn't lend itself to cooing over the latest chick lit volume. If you are the type to go gaga over Hello Kitty items (and not just out of childhood nostalgia) Oeillet Bengale will leave you cold. If you're a fan of spacious, yet richly nuanced, woody fragrances with a prominent spicy component (sans the expected Indian curry food notes!) and the growl of smooth and carnal labdanum, then the feral Oeillet Bengale is your thing.

In fact, if I were to sum it up, I'd say that the chord of pepper-clove-labdanum-incense is the "soul" of Oeillet Bengale, a smoky carnation for fiery spirits.

Composed by Rodrigo Flores-Roux, Oeillet Bengale by Aedes de Venustas includes top notes of turmeric, cinnamon, black pepper, cardamom, cloves and saffron; middle notes of rose, white pepper, strawberry and floral notes; and base notes of vanilla, tolu balsam, benzoin and labdanum.

Related reading on Perfume Shrine:
Spicy Floral fragrances reviews,
Carnation in perfumes: the clove-scented buds of La Belle Epoque

Serge Lutens L'Orpheline: fragrance review & sample draw

Much like the mysterious (and incestuous) half-sister in Leos Carax's  radical adaptation of Melville's Pierre: or, the Ambiguities (1852) in "Pola X", the specter of the missing family member being visited while in almost somnambulist state, L'orpheline (the orphan girl), the latest Serge Lutens fragrance, becomes "un visage….sans age…une souffle, une presence" (a face…ageless…a breath, a presence) which disrupts the flow of a seemingly smooth, luxurious life with its secret of a tormented and deprived past. And again much like the play of light & darkness throughout the film by Leos, L'orpheline presents a play between the cool and warm register, between madness creeping underneath love, and between comfort emerging where you least expect it. Like Pierre, Lutens, you see, views himself as an artist in love with reckless gestures, only thankfully his charm lies not in any thorough immaturity. On the contrary, he has revealed intimate, personal stuff to us with the maturity that comes from acceptance.

Serge presents the new perfume in these words written in a vertical sequence: " Friable mais entière.À demi-mot, son nom se fêle. Avant la brisure, les deux premières syllabes portent le nom du poète qui même pouvait charmer les pierres. " Lutens of course winks at Orpheus, the legendary Greek poet and prophet who charmed every being with his music and tried to retrieve his wife, Eurydice, from the dead by way of his skills, only to meet with his own death from those who could not hear his divine music…which ties with the cryptic text he has written on L'Incendiaire, his other fragrant release, in a new "golden line", announced here a while ago. How's that for two shots with one stone?

Does Serge try to bring back his repressed beloved, his mother, a small bit at a time, with each of his fragrances? Possibly. Lutens is a grown Remi (after Malot's "Sans famille"), on a journey of the roads of France, on a journey of the roads of perfume. And like Carax or Rivette or any master of that school, he certainly takes his time into letting us share his journey.
The poetic concept of the "orphan", "fragile but whole" (this is a French expression that really loses in the translation), is inspired by Lutens's own childhood, "of ashes" and rage, his painful memories of being raised without a mother and abandoned by his father, though the change of sex in the fragrance name suggests a Freudian transposition regarding the significance of the Father (as suggested by Lutens himself). He conflates the male with pain ("le Mâle : le mal"), an Oedipal symbolism that doesn't go amiss. Nor is it intended to.

For this coolish and quiet fragrance (sequentially warmish, like Gris Clair) named  L'Orpheline, Lutens and his sidekick perfumer Chris Sheldrake focus on incense notes, not as cold and soapy as in L'Eau Froide, neither as spicy warm and shady as in Serge Noire, but somewhere in between; entre chien et loup, between daylight and darkness. Frankincense, the impression of bittersweet myrrh and peppery-acrid (elemi? cumin? ginger?) rather than clove-y carnation notes seem to rise, a cross between spirituality and carnality? Lutens knows how to marry contradictions and swath the opulence of orientalia into Parisian refinement. The spicy note in the heart reminds me of a mix between mace and cumin, reminiscent of both Secret Obsession (the now discontinued Calvin Klein fragrance) and a lighter Serge Noire by Lutens.

Yet the end result in L'Orpheline is apart; neither a true Moroccan oriental like hardcore Serge fans have built an online cult out of, nor a classically French perfume for the salon, but a mysterious, vaporous emanation "between the storm and clear skies", between the ashes of the past and the uncertainty of the future, a Delacroix painting, a dwindling match leaving embers behind. The peppery accent on the incense reminds me of the treatment of carnations in Oeillet Bengale (one of the best releases of the year so far) while the musky underlay is soft, subtle, meditative and not entirely without a certain poignancy.

L'Orpheline would suit anyone who like Pierre "had been waiting for something", regardless of their sex. Haven't we all?

L'Orpheline is an haute concentration fragrance, meaning more concentrated than the beige label ones, belonging in the "black line" of the so called "export range" by Serge Lutens. It will retail at 99 euros for 50ml, is already at the Palais Royal and eboutique and will be widely launched internationally on September 1st.

One sample out of my own decant to a lucky reader commenting below. Draw is open till Sunday midnight.

Serge Lutens Laine de Verre: fragrance review

One of my preferred short stories in the canon by American author Edgar Allan Poe is William Wilson. Less popular than many of his more exploitable, creepy or evocative stories, such as The Fall of the House of Usher, The Pit and the Pendulum or The Tell-Tale Heart, it manages to speak to the soul in a way that reminds me of a later favorite author, Herman Hesse, and his profoundly soul-searching novels with characters struggling to find their fate and to get to know themselves. This preface comes as  a necessary explanation on why I found Laine de Verre, the latest fragrance launch by Serge Lutens, as chillingly puzzling as the double face of Janus, the two antiscians in the above mentioned short story.

via tumblr

Maybe this was all an idea that was suggested by seeing Uncle Serge pacing up and down as if somnabulating against himself in a clip worthy of utter puzzlement… [watch the clip here]

The cryptic text is -as always- a springboard for discussion or a chance for ridicule; it all depends on your worldview:
"It is only after he had been penetrated by the winter that,
laying down his arms, the Lord of Glass came to place
at the feet of the Lady of Wool flowers and ferns which had frosted on him."

Laine de Verre means fiberglass (yes, the one used as insulation) and as odd as a perfume inspiration this sounds (the actual material being a potent sensitizer creating an instant itch on the skin it touches) there comes a point in perfumery that one has to drop the "noble essences from the Comores islands" and the "ethically sustained eco-certified ingredients" schtick and just reinvent the wheel. This moment in perfumery has arrived. Fiberglass, then, why not!! After Serge Lutens fragrances with names such as Tubereuse Criminelle (criminal tuberose), Fille en aiguilles (you'll have to read the review to find out on that, it's more complex than it sounds), Nuit de cellophane (cellophane night), Vitriol d'Oeillet (carnation's vitriol) and La Vierge de Fer (iron maiden), Laine de Verre shouldn't come as a shock, at least in what has to do with semantics.

The "eau" line, with its initial L'Eau de Serge Lutens providing the first chasm with the hardcore Lutens clientele and with L'Eau Froide as the second installment to curdle the blood (in a good way), Laine de Verre continues in this collection that is differentiated both in packaging as well as in concept from the regular Marrakech-inflected line: these are "anti-perfumes", scents which aim to be perceived as an aura emanating from the wearer, legible the way supersonic whistles are legible to higher frequency listeners.

The metallic berries and citrus from Mars and the sharp aldehydes from Pluto opening predisposes for the character of the scent which is alien for the modern consumer of apple-scented shower gels and giant fake peaches standing in for latheriness. Lutens marries the abstract idea of "clean" from the middle years of the 20th century (aldehydic florals, such as Chanel No.22 and White Linen) and injects it with modern signs for niche: frankincense, sharp lily of the valley, a mineral and cedar-musk like haze which one can't put their finger on (actually Cashmeran or blonde woods).

Although I still prefer the more incense-y L'Eau Froide (and cannot wear the super sharp and starchy L'Eau), Laine de Verre has to be the second best in the Eau fragrances by Lutens, subdued but there, average lasting power and throughout ironic the way Comme de Garcons fragrances with no-names such as Odeur 53 made their (well) name. It might sound like sacrilege to the average Lutensian fan, but what Lauder did with their Pure White Linen in relation to White Linen is what the French maestro is doing here as well with a tiny helping of that weird, bleach note that made Secretions Magnifiques so horrifically memorable. Anyone who is mentally striking this off their list, now that I mentioned THE HORRIBLE ONE, might be appeased: uncle Serge hasn't totally went out of his way to make us notice, no. Laine de Verre isn't shocking.

In the end it all boils down to intent. With the Eau series, Lutens is authoring a new grammar of "clean": decidedly cool, with prominent use of aldehydes but also incense, mineral and metallic, maybe with a hint of chalkiness like a crushed aspirin, no sign of dewiness or soft muskiness, they perfectly encapsulate a spick & span minimalist loft or a white padded insane asylum, again depending on your worldview. This hygienic approach is in violent clash against the very idea of an added on fine fragrance, much like William Wilson came crushing down violently against his own self and consolidates my belief that Serge Lutens is pulling our collective leg in a deliciously playful way.

pic: Man Ray, Andre Breton before L'enigme d'une journee by Giorgio de Chirico, 1922.

In the interests of disclosure I was sent a sample in the context of the brand's regular promos.  

Serge Lutens La Vierge de Fer: the Iron Maiden Referencing New Fragrance

She walks on through the night
Her circumstances slight
Are only helping her to fail
And though she feels she's right
She tries with all her might
And makes the deepest peril pale
Oh, but she is unreal
Oh, but she doesn't feel
Oh, but she is unreal

She chooses who to love
And then unlike a dove
She takes the laughter from their smile
She wears a velvet glove
Her friends may find it rough
It is a gauntlet all the while

via laparousiedejesus

Could Serge Lutens have been listening to the 1970 Iron Maiden song by Barclay James Harvest (one of my long favorites[1]) and thinking of his own mother, who entrusted his keeping to the hands of relatives as a small child? We'll never know.

What we do know is that this hard-as-nails recollection is mixed: the fragrance pays tribute to Serge's own mother, poignant, since the anthropomorphic torture device know to us from the Inquisition days and the heavy metal band replicates the iconography of Mary, mother of Jesus. Aside from any notions (and involuntary misunderstandings) of grandeur, the concept of tending to fragility, to past traumas for the semi-abandonded Serge (much like a device of torture would reference), is at art's core and thus drives creation. And his fixation with 19th century romanticism (De Profundis or Vitriol d'Oeillet) and its darker side (Douce Amere), all the way through to German Expressionism (La Fille de Berlin) continues...

Vierge de Fer, the latest perfume to adorn the sumptuous Lutens line means Iron Maiden (also referenced as "Virgin of Nuremberg") and recalls the Inquisition dungeons we have come to associate with heavy metal bands, gothic tales and heavy SM tones.



The fragrance focuses on lily (a flower highlighted in Lutens's Un Lys previously) with a mineral, hard and cold aspect, that recalls the hardness of iron, and incense. According to Lutens himself: "The lily in Vierge de Fer is more glorious than in Un Lys. That one was fresher, more lily-like actually. It played on the whiteness of lily. This one [Vierge de Fer] plays on the heady aspect. It's a lily whose pollen hasn't been dusted off, it has kept its stamens and anthers. This is a lily which affronts, once again."[2]

Vierge de Fer has just been presented and will be widely available in September at Les Salons du Palais Royal in the beautiful bell jars of 75ml eau de parfum concentration and on the official Lutens e-boutique.

[1] For some reason or other, I first loved it as a teenager. Must have been the glorious bass line, as I loved following songs with strong bass lines.
[2]quote via Nicoals Olczyk translated from the French

Neela Vermeire Creations Trayee: fragrance review

Incense has long been not only one of the badges of niche perfumery, but also one of my own personal hot buttons, so it sounds both logical and anticipatory that a fledging niche line would want to include a declination of the genre in their wares. But when said genre is harnessed by perfumers of the calibre of Bertrand Duchaufour and infused with the phantasmagoria which must be Neela Vermeire's  creativity  then the resulting fragrance feels the way a kanchipuram saree looks: intricate, ever changing effect when the journey of the light, beautiful. Trayee (pronounced try-ee) is much more than an incense blend, which is no mean feat, given that incense is a difficult material to work with in the first place. But its intricate treatment must endear it to aficionados.

via wikimedia commons

Trayee is part of the original trio of fragrances issued by Neela Vermeire Créations which also includes Mohur and Bombay Bling (the fourth instalment, Ashoka, is launching soon). 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. With Trayee rooted in the Vedic tradition (and utilizing several of the materials mentioned in the holy texts) I was instantly brought back to my university freshman year, when World Civilization was on the agenda under a highly idiosyncratic professor, himself the embodiment of intertextuality & erudition. That was the time when I briefly entertained the idea of learning Sanskrit, though it soon transpired it'd be full time job. But such was the pull that the the Sutras and the Ramayana and their colorful, conflicted and spiritual world had exerted on me and some of my fellow students.

I'm saying all this to atone for coming extremely late to the buzz around Neela Vermeire's creations, having had compartmentalized the perfumes in the "one day" mental drawer. That day came when Neela and I reconnected via Twitter. I say "reconnected" because Neela was, like me, part of the old guard of Makeup Alley: she has a genuinely lovely personality that leaps off the page and a deep knowledge of the Paris perfume scene where she used to organize visiting trips for perfumephiles.
All this intro would read like an apologetic text on a personal blog placating her feelings, had the fragrances been duds; but they assuredly are NOT duds -far from it. Not only are they intellectually stimulating and multi-nuanced, they combine the rich tapestry of colors that is the Indian peninsula with a very Parisian sensibility. 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.

Trayee is much more than a simple incense blend, fusing the mystical with the sensual and the cerebral, like a trimūrti framework for the divine. This is reflected via the "notes" chosen for Trayee which comprise a wide spectrum, from the bittersweet facets of myrrh & musty oud, to the tried & true Indian fusion of sandalwood and jasmine all the way through the stimulating piquancy of spicy, stimulating notes (rich in eugenol). There is a dusty, grassy, cannabis-herbal accord which is close to the muddy feel of Timbuktu for L'Artisan Parfumeur, also by Duchaufour; not surprisingly, the interplay of earthy spices, mysterious blossoms and murrh & vetiver are present in both. Trayee comes across as somehow muskier, leathery, with a more peppery tang and a fully executed resinous, balsamic arc that recalls the smokiness of Annick Goutal's Encens Flamboyant. Trayee feels like rivulets of sweetish white smoke rising from a polished ceramic basin unto the blue skies, its dissipation unto the air gradual and mind-altering.



Neela Vermeire Creations Trayee notes:
Blue ginger, elemi, cinnamon, ganja accord, blackcurrant absolute, basil, jasmine sambac, Egyptian jasmine, cardamom absolute, clove, saffron, Javanese and Haitian vetiver, incense, Mysore sandalwood oil, patchouli, myrrh, vanilla, cedar, amber notes, oud palao from Laos, oak moss.

Trayee is available as an Eau de Parfum 55ml (in refillable flacons), available at select stockists and on www.neelavermeire.com, where you can find a discovery set.

Disclosure: I was sent a sample by Neela. 

Thierry Mugler Alien Essence Absolue: fragrance review

The fragrance lurking inside the intensely yellow container of Alien Essence Absolue, that weird-looking bottle that looks like a pear mutated via the pollination of gold giant insects from outer space, is stimulating and totally unexpected with a softness, deepness and sexiness I didn't think possible.
Or did I?

The best attributes of the original, jasmine-typhoon Alien are kept. Faithfully. The intense longevity on skin, the radiance (minus the projection that extends to a 4-mile radius—this one is a little closer to the skin), the heart of surreal white flowers that seem as they're syphoned through a Space Age desert tent full of all the trappings of Arabia...

And yet Alien Essence Absolue brings on a warm embrace of amber, vanilla and incense that mollify the hard edge of that bright high-tech jasmine core. This newer version highlights the vanilla and bittersweet incense note over the rather more licorice-rich facets of the original Alien bouquet. The vanilla comes as a mysterious inclusion that is removed from the foodie varieties that recall cake batter and cookies; there are all sort of treacly and sticky off notes that resemble booze and tarmac-like gaiacwood. The almost suede-like softness is caressing, soft, a bit medicinal too, like a shaman's kit; the lure of a snake's tongue, dangerous and at the same time mesmerizing, poison and cure at the same time. The animalistic scent in the background has a honeyed facet, musky and lightly powdery, sweet and intimate. There is a precarious balance in this flanker scent that makes it good; you feel as if one tilt given and it might collapse, but oh, it doesn't.

In short, Alien Essence Absolue comes on the foot of Alien as one of the better examples in the Thierry Mugler line-up, which is quite a feat unto itself, bearing in mind Mugler has one of the most eclectic and intriguing fragrance lines within the mainstream sector.

Alien Essence Absolue was developed by (artistic olfactory director of Mugler parfums) Pierre Aulas with official fragrance notes of white jasmine flowers, orris root, black vanilla pod, incense, myrrh, white amber and cashmere wood.
Alien Essence Absolue is available as 30 and 60 ml Eau de Parfum Intense and a refill of 60 ml.

Twin Peaks: L'Eau Froide by Lutens and Passage d'Enfer by L'Artisan Parfumeur

Monastic, cool, ethereal? In many ways L'Eau Froide is anti-Lutens, whereas Passage d'Enfer is L'Artisan Parfumeur down to the most minuscule detail. Though both brands are pioneers of niche, as Now Smell This notes they're a "study in contrasts". The Byzantine plot of a typical Serge Lutens is bringing the exotica of the Moroccan souk into a 19th century aesthete's dream sequence and from there into an urbanite's esoteric scent collection. L'Artisan on the other hand approaches perfumery via a luminous, refined, transparent approach as championed by founder Jean Laporte and perfumers Jean Claude Ellena, Olivia Giacobetti, Anne Flipo and Betrand Duchaufour. Even the ambers in the L'Artisan line are diaphanous instead of thick whereas their woody and "green" fragrances smell the way psithurism sounds.

via birdytg.blogspot.com

And yet...Inhale the icy ringing air coming from the thundra filling your lungs. Feel the chill of cold water in a silver-tiled pool where you anticipated warmth. Remember the surprising burning sensation on your tongue upon munching an ice cube against the hardness of adamantine. Feel the wet, clean feel of stones in a brook. And imagine a kiss from dead lips... If De Profundis aimed to capture the scent of death, the cold tentacles of a serene end to all can be felt in L'Eau Froide, from the pristine white-lined coffin to earth's cool embrace. I personally find this philosophical attitude to mortality very peaceful and cleasing to the mind. And not totally antithetical to the ethos of Lutens, come to think of it.

The terpenic, bright side of Somalian frankincense (reminiscent of crushed pine needles) is given prominence in Passage d'Enfer, much like in the Lutens 'eau' which unfolds the terpenes after a fresh mint start; this exhibits a hint of pepperiness (could it be elemi, another resin?) giving a trigeminal nerve twist. The effect is dry and very clean indeed (but unlike the screechy aldehydic soapiness & ironing starch of the first L'Eau), with a lemony, bitter orange rind note that projects as resinous rather than fruity and a projection and sillage that are surprising for something so ghostly, so ethereal, so evanescent. It's the scrubbing mitt of a monastery in the southern coastline, rather than the standard aquatic full of synthetic molecules dihydromyrcenol and Calone coming out of the cubicle in an urban farm. 

Still this aesthetic is something with which the average perfumista hasn't come to terms with yet; it will probably take a whole generation to reconcile perfumephiles with "clean" after the horros that have befallen them in the vogue for non-perfume-perfumes in the last 20 years. I'm hopeful. After all being a perfumista means challenging your horizons, right?

Notes for L'Eau Froide (2012): olibanum, sea water, musk, vetiver, mint, incense, pepper and ginger
Notes for Passage d'Enfer (1999): lily, incense, woodsy notes and musk.

Both are available through niche distributors at more or less comparative price-points.

Guerlain Les Deserts d'Orient ~Encens Mythique d'Orient, Rose Nacree du Desert, Songe d'un Bois d'Ete: new fragrances

Guerlain does Middle East. At last! After several companies catered to the affluent and genuinely discerning Middle-East market, an audience intent on appreciating perfumes through a profound familiarity with good ingredients and complex compositions, Guerlain has joined this trend.  
Les Déserts d'Orient (Oriental Deserts) comprises three fragrances, inspired by mythical raw materials of Middle Eastern origin: incense, rose and oud. The fragrances are exclusively destined for the United Arab Emirates with some discussion into expanding distribution into Qatar and Kuwait later on. The Paris flagship boutique will eventually feature them as well.

This new trio of oriental fragrances is a tribute to enchanting Arabia with creations that represent the Orient in all its original splendor. The perfumes are credited to head perfumer Thierry Wasser who focused on every possible nuance of the Arabian Nights for this Middle Eastern opus with exotic names. This is Guerlain and at the same time it's beyond Guerlain, "savage and dark", pettering out into a place of legend and lore.

The Exclusive Collection Les Déserts d'Orient by Guerlain comprises:

Encens Mythique d’Orient : A smoky effect, aromatic waves, a divine emotion. Inspired by frankincense, but given a typical Guerlain treatment, this sweet & bright musky oriental composition fuses aldehydes with neroli, moss, saffron, Persian rose, ambergris and musk to render incense new again.  

Rose Nacrée du Désert : An intense rose, a bold flower, an established mystery. A fragrance built on lush Persian rose, the legendary blossom of the east. Creamy yet dark, rose is given a mysterious air via saffron, patchouli and a hint of agarwood (oud), fanned on rich benzoin resin.  

Songe d’un Bois d’été : A deep leather, sumptuous woods, supreme momentum. Dry, spicy, smoky effect with authentic oud nuances; the woodiness is based on cedar, the jasmine heart gives an individual touch. Saffron and cardamom provide the spiciness, laurel a dry aromatic touch. Oud, myrrh, patchouli and leathery notes complete the base notes of this intriguing composition.

The bottles are adorned with Arab-cript calligraphy down one side, the French names down the other side. They are the tall, architectural style of the collection L'Art et la Matière with the antique gold overlay on the sides holding 75ml of perfume. The concentration of the fragrances is Eau de Parfum for tenacity. Prices are set for 190euros/AED990 per bottle.  

Reviews on all of them coming up soon!!

Armani Prive La Femme Bleue: fragrance review

The Armani Privé collection falls under the scope of "niche fragrances within mainstream houses" trend; exclusive, upscale compositions that are often several notches above the widely available scents by the same company (see Cuir Amethyste and Bois d'Encens). La Femme Bleue, setting you back for £375/400euros for 100ml of Eau de Parfum, is very much on the exclusive side, given that it has been made in only 1000 bottles worldwide (and it's not available in just any country! whoa!). So I was fully prepared to hate it (isn't that stratagem & pricetag obscene?), but, alas, I was hasty.

Giorgio Armani's La Femme Bleue is a lovely iris fragrance; nuanced, darkish, with its woody and incensey background and, despite the passing resemblance with iris extraordinaire Iris Silver Mist by Serge Lutens, soft, powdery, ultimately unctuous. Plus, despite having the word Femme in the name, the designer himself is quick to point out that this is a unisex scent, as is the whole Privé collection. What more can one ask for? Perhaps some dare.

The Armani Privé collection can be divided into three genres: fresh and clean-smelling Les Eaux; La Collection ~inspired by precious stones like amethyst or jade; and the decadent Collection Mille et Une Nuits (A Hundred and One Nights Collection). This is the range that includes Oud Royal, an opulent melange of amber, spice and myrrh resin. The line is not without its celebrity endorsement: Charlene Wittsock, Princess of Monaco, who wore an Armani Privé wedding gown, also wore an Armani Privé fragrance on her "happiest day"; reportedly it was the new ultra-limited edition La Femme Bleue.

The deep blue of the bottle is a direct reflection on the Spring/Summer 2011 collection by Armani, inspired by the blue tint of the Alasho of the Twareg people of the desert, nomads of North Africa.
The colour of the nighttime sky has often been an inspiration for perfumers and bottle manufacturers, starting with the iconic L'Heure Bleue for Jacques Guerlain as well as Dawamesk, passing through modern offerings such as Jacomo Deep Blue and Dark Blue by Hugo Boss, all the way to the upcoming Vol de Nuit Powder Spray bottle in gorgeous shades of midnight.

The perfumer Serge Majoullier is a talent to watch. He explains how he put the concept (the deep indigo) into fragrance:

"It’s not easy to translate the idea of deep blue, I found the way by blending oriental and vanilla notes, perfect to evoke a hot starry night; so I added black iris [ed.note: I'm assuming he's referring to iris chyrophrages], which is dark blue in nature, and whose scent at times verges on chocolate, a woody background. This way the fragrance is not just floral".

This Armani fragrance feels like Haute Parfumerie and not just hot air fanned on ad copy, as many niche products do these days:  The delicious undercurrent of cocoa dust laces the background of iris (this is an experiment that is also successful at much lower price points in Bulgari's Blv Notte and Iris by L'Erbolario) resulting in a fragrance that cannot be said to evoke funereal connotations like so many iris scents can; notably Iris Silver Mist, to which it bears a kinship of the spirit.  After all, iris susiana, a greyish species of Iris, is affectionately called "mourning iris", so the connection is there all right. But no; not in this case. La Femme Bleue is not exactly cheerful or bubbly either, opting for a distinctive and elegant arpeggio of woody notes that surround and temper the slightly gourmand, orientalised aspects of cocoa and vanillic-benzoin caramel hints with some musk. Softness and a delicious powdery feel akin to violets greet you upon spraying, with hints of sensuality evolving as the fragrance dries down, even though it is a delicate, timid drydown that you might want to press your nose on your wrist to fully enjoy. I could picture myself enjoying this ultra exclusive fragrance if it was any easier to get ahold of.

Notes for Armani Prive La Femme Bleue: iris, chocolate, woodsy notes, incense and vanilla.

Below is the clip from the summer 2011 collection by the same name featuring Elisa Seidanoui. Enjoy!



Painting Black Iris by Georgia O'Keefe (1906).

Etat Libre d'Orange Archives 69: fragrance review & draw

The releases by pop-art fragrance phenomenon État Libre d'Orange ever since Like This (fronted by Tilda Swinton) have been lacking, belying the enthusiasm on discovering credible and artful compositions behind rather gimmicky names. Simply put, they are not at all challenging or unique as I've come to expect from the ground-breaking house. Archives 69, named after the address of the brand in Paris (69 rue des Archives) but at the same time deliciously hinting at the racy sexual position through the iconography on the site, doesn't deviate from this disappointing path. It's not that it is not pleasant or wearable (because it certainly is), it is that it is rather contrived given the history: sampling their scents is like blind-foldingly tasting Bertie Bott's Every Flavor Beans.

The ad copy, promising "the illusion of sex", certainly makes for a frenzied anticipation among the perfume buying audience: "[...]when she finds you, you will know the end of innocence. With the song of a siren, she lures you with an indecent charm, an almost malevolent delicacy. She sings to the animal in you. She awakens the sleeping lion, she tames the savage beast. She leads you to wondrous and frightening delights, and you may be surprised by the strength of her seduction. She is masculine/feminine, succubus and incubus, and she can be dangerous, but only to those who willingly resist the confines of safety. You will shudder at the urgency of her will, and tremble at your hungry response". Eh, riiiight.

Upon spraying Archives 69 from État Libre d'Orange there is a smidge of that nauseating, sterile note (supposedly a nitrile) that makes Sécrétions Magnifiques so vile for so many. Allied to a musky note, midway between clean and dirty, it soon dissipates (blink and you'll miss it), paving the way for a much smoother, crowd-pleasing warm, spicy woody cluster of notes with overripe fruity nuances, reminiscent of the accord in Like This; plus warm, fuzzy fur. But not that kind of fur! It's more of a piney incense trail on a furry animal that cozed up by the fire, with spicy accents and the hint of dirt in good patchouli. There is a sweetness to its animalic fuzziness, a little bit salty sweet from one angle, more creamy sweet from another. But it never deviates from its mould of oriental spicy.

The composition overall is much too tame to conjure images of depravity and Baudelairian debauchery, but that does not mean that lovers (men or women) of snuggly, warm, skin scents won't like it. On the contrary.
To capture the full effect it's best to spray, since dabbing is akin to putting on sourdine on it; in that regard I agree with what Gaia of the Non Blonde points out. Still, in anycase and any way of wearing it, it's a low-hum fragrance that needs the proximity of intimacy to be best detected, much like other woody muskies such as Gaiac 10 by Le Labo or Escentric 01 (Escentric Molecules).

Notes for Etat Libre d'Orange Archives 69:
Mandarin, pink pepper CO2, pimento leaf, orchid Jungle Essence®and prune Jungle Essence®, incense, camphor, benjoin, patchouli, musk.

A sample out of my personal stash is available for a lucky reader. Please respond to this question to be eligible: Do you equate spicy, woody, snuggly scents with the autumn & holiday season or are you panseasonal? (And do you have a favourite among them?)

Archives 69 by État Libre d'Orange is available in 50ml and 100ml Eau de Parfum. The 100ml bottle is a limited edition in a collectible box. Archives 69 can be purchased from Escentual.com in UK and Henri Bendels and Luckyscent in the USA.

Still from the film Last Tango in Paris, photo of presentation from Elements Showcase NYC exhibition

Amouage Honour Woman & Honour Man: fragrance reviews

I distinctly recall watching Cio-Cio San ritualistically commit suicide with her father's knife at the end scene of Madama Butterfly and thinking that despite the glorious music, the storyline lacked the tragic depths of Euripides's Medea, fresh in my mind from school. It was more simplistic too: one straight plot line, girl wins boy, girl loses boy, girl commits hara kiri. Surely, both heroines were cruelly abandonded by their foreign lovers for whom they sacrificed everything, but somehow taking one's life seemed to my childish eyes as an easy way out; eternally pining for the grave sin of filicide, uniting both tragic lovers & parents in pain, seemed vastly more weighty. But the Japanese notion of honour wanted it so and further exploration of Japonism acclimatized me with the idea in the end. Honour Woman and Honour Man, fragrances inspired ~as Christopher Chong revealed~ by the ending act of Puccini's Madama Butterfly, come as a stop at a multifarious course.

The prolific art director for Omani-based firm Amouage, C. Chong, is issuing perfume duos for some time now, having the best noses creating under his guidance: From the majestic Jubilation 25 for women and Jubilation XXV for men to the sweeping Epic for Men and Epic for Women, the rich fragrances have lured lovers of true luxury and superb raw materials creating something of a mini cult. Even when the skeleton is recognisable as belonging to a specific category met again, the fleshing out of the robust contours is impressive enough to warrant uniqueness.

In order to assess both Honour editions, it's essential to examine how they interpret the concept: Instead of playing out the scenario of Puccini's heroes in one's mind, it might be better to see the scents as a modern extention of a viewer who sees their shadows cast in the wings; oriental elements petering, but those are not reserved for the Far East, they also draw upon the Middle-Eastern tradition: incense, elemi resin, jasmine, the Spice Route, pepper worth its weight in gold and finally Indian tuberose...This amalgam of richness is woven into a tapestry that is not reminiscent of any one culture, yet stands on the edge between ancient, rich in resins & flower essences natural perfumery and the modern ethereal treatment that ensures fragrances remain contemporary as if fueled by electrified air.
Both Honour Woman and Honour Man are typically Amouage in their individual way, showcasing what natural oils can do to instil richness and depth in fragrance, possessing as they do a sort of 3D-expansion which reveals facets interlocking with each other in an olfactory Rubik's Cube.

Amouage Honour Woman, created by perfumers Alexandra Carlin and Violaine Collas, is galvanised by the power of pink jasmine, fruity, succulent and nectarous as if oozing sexy honey, floriental, womanly and seductive and yet light enough to be enjoyed during the summer. The bouquet reminded me of a less campy Vamp à NY, chokeful as that one is too of real, vibrant natural white flowers, hints of big Bazooka gum pieces laced with banana-fruit facets. Smelling Honour Woman on top, I'm struck by the swift progression from the peppery-camphoraceous green note which foreshadows tuberose (in reality spicy notes and that certain subtle root-beer touch which is so familiar to Americans) into the intensely sweet, fruity and upbeat jasmine heart that is all out nature red in tooth and claw. The white floral essences stimulate Honour Woman into a melodious cadenza that seems never ending, supremely lasting onto blotter, clothes, nostrils, soft skin, decolletage...And yet, the supporting of that floral sweetness by somber notes like green vetiver and serene incense makes Honour Woman a pliable, real femme who can yield under the power of love, rather than an hysterical madwoman who scatters her demands right and left. The success and beauty of Amouage Honour Woman lie in the balance of diva-esque characteristcs with the cool attitude of seeing the brightest morning light as the most natural thing in the world...which it is.

Notes for Amouage Honour Woman:
Top notes are coriander, pepper and rhuburb;
middle notes are carnation, jasmine, gardenia, tuberose and lily-of-the-valley;
base notes are vetiver, opoponax, amber, incense and leather.

Amouage Honour Man, composed by perfumer Nathalie Feisthauer is a decidedly spicy fragrance, with oriental-woody leanings. The intensity of its spicy top, a veritable plunge into the pepper shaker, is unsettling, grabbing you from both lapels and smacking down into submission. But oh, you want to discover what this tough story unfolds later on! Indeed, the pepper becomes almost oily, like the half smoky-half musty odour when you crack a mace, more than a tad resinous, thanks to elemi (a naturally pepper-like essence that compliments frankincense and enters into the blend of Eastern cencer incense mixes). The equally terpenic sides of this mix are soon embraced by the distinct green-rosy-camphor of geranium and blended woody notes of cedar, patchouli and vetiver, borrowing a slice of Amouage's Reflection. The cunning in Honour Man lies into presenting each note as a distinct pitch with sonorous timbre, yet also as unifying them into a chromatic scale that is heard like bass coming out from subwoofers in the larynx of some smoldering lion afar, coming closer and closer by the minute. In no way threatening, but impressive all the same, Honour Man should have lovers of Poivre Samarcande, Bang and Poivre 23 sniff appreciatively and try to unravel the complicated thread of its Eastern mythos for western men.

Notes for Amouage Honour Man:
Top notes are pink pepper and pepper;
middle notes are geranium, elemi and nutmeg;
base notes are vetiver, musk, patchouli, Virginia cedar, incense and tonka bean.

Eau de Parfum, 50ml for £120. Available at Harrods, Selfridges, Les Scenteurs and Amouage boutique, 14 Lowndes Street, SW1. Soon available stateside.

Related reading on Perfume Shrine: Amouage fragrance reviews and news

In the interests of full disclosure I tried the new scents via official samples sent by the company