Some perfumes the minute you put them on feel like you've slipped into a pair of black satin slingbacks or a silk peignoir in ivory. Oscar by Oscar de la Renta had felt that way to me for the better bulk of my adult life. In fact I used to adore the way it smelled on my mother, no stranger to spectacular perfumes, such as her favorites Cabochard and Dioressence.
The original Oscar (1977) is a remarkably complex perfume, quite attenuated in its current formula compared to the grand dame that was the vintage juice from the 1970s and 1980s, which shows a remarkable kinship (and debt) to Coty's L'Origan and Guerlain's L'Heure Bleue. For this reason, but also for the way it extrapolates past and fuses it into the future, beyond mere nostalgia, it is of great historical value to see what makes it tick.
via parfumdepub.net
Oscar de la Renta's original perfume: a complex composition
In many ways the introduction of Oscar by Oscar de la Renta on the market in 1977 meant a revival of the floriental bittersweet genre that the two classics had paved after many years of inertia. Despite L'Origan being formulated around perfumer's bases (i.e. ready made blocks of "smells" composed for perfumers skirting the issue of reinventing the wheel each time), both the Coty and the La Renta perfumes are resting on a basic chord of carnation (the spicy constituent eugenol is a key component of the perfume), orris, violet (methyl ionone), orange blossom and ambreine, all ingredients in about equal measure but for the ionone (which is doubly dosaged compared to the rest). Jean Louis Sieuzac, the perfumer of Opium (YSL), Farenheit, Bel Ami and Dune (Dior), sure knew a thing or fifty about how to create a frisson of excitement!
The floral heart however is particularly complex in Oscar de la Renta: the jasmine core (resting on both hedione and Jessemal), with rose, hyacinth and ylang-ylang included as well, produce a particularly sweet floralcy. The tuberose fragrance note is the mule's kick; purposeful, corrupt, expansive, can't miss it. Accessorizing notes of heliotrope, coumarin (the tonka bean note), musk ketone, benzoin and opoponax give a resinous, powdery and sweetish character that veers both compositions into the floriental genre (In fact L'Origan can be claimed to have historically introduced the genre in the first place!). The heliotrope and "powder" with a contrasting top (anisic in L'Heure Bleue, spicy in Oscar) are the basis of the tension that is so compelling in the Guerlain perfume as well. It's not hard to see how both can be memorable.
The addition of Vertofix (woody note close to cedar) in Oscar provides the woody background, with a small footnote of sandalwood and a mossy base reminiscent of the famous Mousse de Saxe "base" popularized by Caron. The powdery character is further reinforced through the resinous orris note and the mossiness. This contracts with the fresh top note comprising citruses (orange, bergamot and mandarin), basil, linalool and a fruity accord.
The above review pertains to the original composition which was prevalent throughout the 1980s and 1990s. Nowadays, somewhat attenuated due to "corrective surgery" (aka reformulation), Oscar is less smooth, with a harsher feel that doesn't lure in the way the vintage did, and less of its tuberose kick; in a sea of fruity floral sameness it retains some of its retro vibe, but it can come across as somewhat dated rather than wow, though the drydown phase is pretty good still. Lately the Oscar de la Renta house shows encouraging signs of picking up with its Esprit d'Oscar fragranceand its more "exclusive" collection of Luxuries fragrances, so I'm hopeful that where the botox failed the new generation fillers might prove successful. It remains to be seen.
The perfume's imprint The progeny of Oscar de la Renta itself isn't without merit: Loulou by Cacharel (1987) owes a debt to the development of its tuberose and oriental notes to Oscar's floriental formula. The side by side testing of both gives an interesting glimpse into the intertextuality that is perfume creation; quotes of past things are happening in later perfumes all the time. Vanderbilt (an American classic from 1981) is also influenced, a sweet floral with white flowers in the heat (honeyed orange blossom, jasmine), heliotrope, vanillin, abstract woods (provided by aromachemical Iso-E Super) and musk in the base and a contrasting citrus and green fruity top note, but with no spice and very little coumarin or ylang-ylang to speak of. The contrasting nuances help make the perfume memorable.
Originally thought out by perfumer Jean-Louis Sieuzac* (of Opium fame), is it any wonder Dior's Dune smells more like the warmed up sand where lush Venus-like bodies have lain in sweet surrender rather than the athletic Artemis/Diana figures which aquatic/oceanic ("sports") fragrances ~the classification in which the house puts it~ would suggest? The French have been known to prefer Venus over Diana in their artistic depictions over the centuries anyway. It's perhaps unjust and a sign of the celebrity-obsessed times that this Aphrodite of a scent is recurring into the scene because word has leaked out recently that Kate Middleton wore it as a signature scent when she was a student.
But at least it might give newcomers into the cult of perfume a chance to experience one of the lesser known Dior fragrances: Curiously enough, for something that has stayed in the market for 19 years and belongs to the LVMH portfolio, Dune, apart from a men's version Dune for Men of course with its tonka beat backdrop, has no flankers...
*[Although Jean-Louis Sieuzac proposed the formula, his submission was rejected by the Christian Dior perfumes head of development at the time. It took a modification by perfumer Nejla Bsiri Barbir (working at Parfumania) which sealed the deal and got Dune on the shelves in the end...]
Dior's Dune is a case study not only in the house's illustrious stable (scroll our Dior Series), but in the perfume pantheon in general: The zeitgeist by 1991, when the fragrance was issued, demanded a break with the shoulder-pads and moussed-up hair of the 1980s which invaded personal space alongside bombastic scents announcing its wearer from the elevator across the hall...or -in some memorable cases- across the adjoining building three weeks after the wearer had passed through its halls! The advent of ozonic-marines was on as a form of air freshening (and a subliminal chastity belt to attack towards the AIDS advent) and L'Eau d'Issey, interestingly issued exactly one year after Dune, was paving the path that New West by Aramis had started a few years ago. Where the Japanese aesthetic for restraint put forth mental images of limpid water lillies by the drop of water on a sparse zen bottle of brushed aluminum & frosted glass, the French were continuing their seductive scenery: the model was all prostrate on a sandy beach, the colour of antique pink silk underwear hinting at fleshy contours, eyes closed, giagantic eyelashes batting slowly, reminiscent of broom stems, a world capsized into a sphere of tranquility... Interestingly it's also routinely fronted by blonde beauties, suggesting there is an oriental for them apart from the flamenco-strewn dark-haired territory other classic fragrances have mapped out so well. Lately advertising images for Dune sadly capitulated into the slicked, oiled-up bodies that infest other Dior fragrance advertisments, but I prefer to keep the original ones in my mind.
Perfume taxonomist Michael Edwards recounts how the heads at Christian Dior wanted to create a "marine type" of fragrance but without the harsh ozonic notes that were catapulting the market at the time. The original idea was a monastery's garden by the coast, herbal and aromatic.
To do the trick they relied on both a clever construction (which was more "smoky oriental" than "marine") and some ingenious, suggestive marketing to compliment it later.
The imagery was easier to devise, although not easy to pull off exactly as planned: The packaging was an inviting hue of peachy, as was the colour of the juice, to suggest femininity and soft flesh, while the star ingredient that suggested beachy slopes and wild growth, broom (what the French call genet) was featured on the advertising images in an effort to reinforce the suggestion of wild beaches of escapist delights. The seaside town of Biarritz, where the official launch was scheduled, gathering a huge amount of press professionals, was practically painted peach to echo the livery. A chic picnic on the beach was set to kickstart the festivities. But someone had forgotten a small detail in the mix (or was he/she nonchalant enough the European way not to check it out?). It was a nudist beach...
The composition is never too clever by half, it's intelligent: The dissonant opening impression of Dior's Dune relies on a bitterish interplay between the tarriness of lichen ~alongside the distinct bracken feel of broom (in reality deertongue goes into the formula)~ with the sweeter oriental elements of the base. It's almost harsh! The phenolic, after all, is never more aptly played than when juxtaposed with a sweetish note (such as in natural honey in the form of phenolic acids), as exhibited to great effect by Bvlgari's Blackwhich was to follow at the end of the 1990s. The intelligence of Sieuzac nevertheless lied into injecting a "marine" fragrance with exactly the element that no one would expect from an oceanic-evoking landascape: warm oriental powder! If you lean closely, the top stage of Dune with its bitterish tendencies almost immediately gives way to a dry impression that almost recalls gusts of powder, but missing completely the candied violet-rose & makeup feel of the mainstays of feminine guiles, powder puffs. The official notes proclaim orris, but the effect is due to carrot seed (often used as a replication of the earthy, powdery undergrowth). This is a fragrance that is conceived as an extension of the boudoir into the outdoors, not an accoutrement out of it.
The warm amber (but not too sweet) and the musk base is there too under the other elements, almost like fig-filled biscuits rolled into floral tanning lotion. In fact I believe the Dior Bronze "summer fragrance" called Sweet Sun, was directly inspired by Dune. But the diaphanous interpretation of Dune allows it to pose as borderline "fresh". Almost "natural". Someone described it as "flesh-toned in the creepy way of artificial limps, not real ones", continuing into pronouncing it "marvellous" and "the bleakest beauty in all perfumery", and this Plastic Venus off the Waves stands indeed on a unique podium amidst the whole of modern perfumery: There's simply nothing quite like it.
Notes for Dior Dune: Top:bergamot, mandarin, palisander, aldehyde, peony, rosewood and broom Heart: jasmine, rose, ylang-ylang, lily, wallflower, lichen, orris. Base: vanilla, patchouli, benzoin, sandalwood, amber, oakmoss, and musk.
The Eau de Toilette is my preferred concentration in this scent, possessing in greater degree the jarring elements which make Dune so very interesting to begin with. There is also an alcohol-free version for use in the sun, called Dune Sun, but as usual with alcohol-less versions, it lacks much staying power.
Was this my life, or did I dream it? That seemingly rhetorical question might drive one crazy given sufficient circumstances. After all, isn't all life, "is all we see and seem but a dream within a dream?" like Poe used to say. Or as the ancient Greeks poetically put it: "οναρ σκιας ανθρωπος" (man is but a shadow's dream).
My thoughts revert to these aphorisms, as I converge Opium by Yves Saint Laurent and Sergio Leone's swansong masterpiece,Once upon a time in America in my mind.My proclivities to the fragrance being a given and my fondness for that final enigmatic scene in which De Niro is beatifically smiling through the somnolent haze of opium vapors, it was natural to be so; if only because, like the drug, Opium is to be worn lying down. Pilgrimage was sorely lacking till now and the Gods have been accusing me of hubris for too long.
History of YSL Opium Perfume
Yves Saint Laurent was at the zenith of his career when he envisioned a decadent, baroque perfume evoking the exotic Orient: "It will be the greatest perfume of them all and we will call it Opium", he said, perhaps with a sideways wink to his own path to hallucinogenics' addiction. The year when the concept was conceived was 1972. It would take another 5 years for it to come to fruition.
The scent was composed by Jean Louis Sieuzac (Sonia Rykiel, Dune, the re-issue of Madame Rochas) in 1977 and art-directed by Chantal Roos, while the vermilion flacon was designed by Pierre Dinand.
Originally the name that Squibb, the American parent company of parfums Saint Laurent, wanted to christen the fragrance was Black Orchid, the same that Tom Ford later grabbed almost 30 years later for his own foray into perfume for what he hoped to be an equally controversial landmark.
Opium was in many ways a landmark: Its fragrance although tracing its lineage to great orientals of the past such as Shalimar, Habanita, Youth Dew and even Tabu (with its carnation-civet accord of "parfum de puta"), was perhaps the first to enter into the floriental category, with its very much detectable carnation, orange blossom and ylang-ylang among the plush of effulgent spice and starched resins, of which oppoponax stars. But also due to the fact that it broke with the previous trends of independent chypres and soft aldehydics, bringing back the orientals which had been forgotten since their last stint during the 20s and 30s and thus inaugurating the fashions for them again, resulting in everyone producing one from Coco, Poison, Ysatis, Boucheron Femme , all the way to Loulou.
Its launch party, at a junk in Manhattan's East River, with orientalised canopies and matching decor, marked the first time such opulence was applied to a fragrance's issue and ignited a series of mega-launches that were to become de rigeur. Its campaign, provocatively proclaiming "for those addicted to Yves Saint Laurent", earned it serious controversy in certain countries: A peanut-growing premier in Queensland, Australia had the perfume banned in his state. The US Federal Justice Department tried to outlaw it. In other countries due to drug import laws it had to be imported under a pseudonym, like contraband, and relabelled within the country.Its subsequent status of a bestseller proved that all the obstacles were within its stride and that man (and woman) is really a creature desiring what seems unattainable.
Bottle Design: the Oriental Inro
The bottle has a no less interesting tale surrounding it. According to Dinand's autobiography, he was working on a stylized inro, the small wooden box samurais carry on their belts, full of little drawers where herbs, spices and opium for alleviating the pain from their wounds are kept. The little drawers are held together by strings (hence the resulting tassel on the Opium bottle) and the top is crowned with a sculpted ball, called netsuke, replicated in the cap. "That's it!" said Saint Laurent, as soon as he saw it and fixed his mind on calling it Opium, the rest being history. The advertising had always been titillating, starting with sprawled Jerry Hall, progressing to an unknown red-head (pictured above), through to Kate Moss and Sophie Dahl infamously in the nude (therefore banned but you can see it by clicking the link). Currently Malgosia Bela fronts the ad prints.
Lauder had been secretly working on their own spicy oriental, mysteriously also in a vermilion bottle, named after a mercury mineral found in China and smelling close to Opium,Cinnabar, which launched only weeks later. Yet they never had such commercial success with it, a fact that is treated with silence when you point it out to them. Whether there had been some form of trade espionage has never been proven and is only a figment of speculation.
Scent Description
Baptising yourself in Opium amounts to owning a droplet of the Styx, imparting invulnerability, shunning your combination sinners -- your lecherous liars and your miserly drunkards -- who dishonor the vices and bring them into bad repute. It speaks the tongue of angels through the wiles of devils, fanning its brocade-like resins over your humble existence, marring the opulent flowers and the bright citruses (bergamot, lemon and the orange-tinged essence of coriander) by a contaminated hand of animalistic sin. I can't distinguish any of its constituent parts separately, as they merge into a tremendously forceful message of abandon and escapism from the vagaries of life. Was it my life or did I dream it?
The iron-pressed linen note of the aldehydes in the beginning gives off -coupled with the spicy bite of the carnation accord- a rather "clean" veneer, which allows Opium the distinction of being among the easiest orientals to carry without feeling all soiled underneath your dress. The plumminess is closly interwoven with the balsams in the drydown phase, when the fragrance has dried on the skin and only its whispered message remains; quite woods, trickly resins like benzoin, labdanum and opoponax with an animalic darkness to them from the small footnote of pungent, bitter castoreum in the far end.
Opium never fails to bring forth compliments every single time I wear it and it is the robe de guerre on every occasion where ample backbone is required or a new acquaintance is going to take place. People never identify it as such and always ask what is that magnificent fragrance emanating. Sometimes it's perversely fun to see faces fall when I reveal the true identity, other times it only makes me think long and hard about over saturation of a particular scent in the collective unconscious and the detriment that brings to a whole generation who formed bad associations through it being ubiquitous.
Opium Summer Editions and Comparison of Concentrations My preferred form is the Eau de toilette, which highlights the spicy bite and the moribund balsams perfectly, although the extrait de parfum is another excellent choice. The Secret de Parfum which had circulated at some point during the early 90s in a cut-out bottle from hard plastic in a hue darker than the original flacon was a concentration that turned me off Eau de Parfum (to which it amounted) . Luckily that error in judgment on the part of YSL Parfums has been amended and the current version of Eau de Parfum is merely denser and more opaque, although still true to the scent. The body products in the range are some of the best I have tried in terms of both fidelity to the scent (they have a slightly pronounced orange note which is very agreeable) and texture which melts under your caress. Men have also been catered for through a men's version that is woodier and more aromatic but also rather spicy, Opium pour homme. As a faithful Opium wearer for years I can attest to it being relatively the same despite possible reformulation. If eugenol however becomes seriously restricted -as has been discussed- then it would risk severe disfigurement. {edit to add, June 2010: Alas, it has...}
In later years, many lighter summer versions launched, as limited editions, aiming at making Opium fit for summer-wear and largely succeeding: Summer Fragrance (2002), Eau d'Eté(2004), Fleur de Shanghai(2005), Fleur Impériale(2006),Orchidée de Chine(2007),Poésie de Chine (2008). My personal favourite is Fleur de Shangai among them, replicated closely in the latest version. This trend might have started by the non-limited, non-alcoholic Opium Fraicheur d'Orient, which got issued for summer in the mid-90s and which introduced a note from Angel and an intense citrus into the composition, to no particular pleasure derived. A limited edition bottle is Opium Orient Extreme from 2007, which only changes the exterior, not the scent. Various collector's bottles and versions will continue to get made. As long as it captures the imagination of perfume worshippers at its altar. Notes: Top: aldehydes,plum,pepper, tangerine, coriander,bergamot, lemon Heart: clove, jasmine, cinnamon, rose, peach, orris, myrrh, ylang ylang Base: benzoin, patchouli, oppoponax, cedar, sandalwood, labdanum, castoreum, musk, vanilla
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