Chloé Eau de Fleurs The collection ~Lavande, Capucine, Neroli: new fragrances

A new floral chapter begins with the upcoming Chloé Eau de Fleurs collection: three scents inspired by classic flowers, Lavande, Capucine, Néroli, and encased in similar architectural bottles, distinguishable by the shade of their jus and the raw material they're referencing (Reminds you of niche "collections"? Thought so!). Let's see them one by one:

Chloé Eau de Fleurs Lavande - Lavender or Lavandula officinalis

An absolute echo of masculine fragrances, lavender has always inspired perfumer Domitille Bertier (IFF). “When I close my eyes and breathe in lavender essence, I imagine sheets drying in the sun and the freshness of summer days. I’ve wanted to create a women’s lavender fragrance for a long time.” Thus, when the Artistic Director of Chloé, Hannah MacGibbon, asked her to compose a feminine fragrance based on this androgynous material, Domitille was guided by her longstanding dream. “I used one of the noblest lavenders of our palette”. This essence was fractioned to lighten its coumarin base note. Without this almond-like aspect, it becomes an evanescent and airy aura of lavender. “I wanted a simple signature, the impression of an eau fraîche with a real perfume structure.” On the skin, the lavender of Chloé eau de fleurs Lavande seems herbaceous and tinged with citrus, alongside violet and bergamot leaves. Then, a tea accord prolongs the presence of bergamot into the heart of the formula. Lavender delicately transforms. The iris concrete gives it this verticality. Finally, musk envelops the allure in sweetness, while cedar, vetiver and cashmeran fuse with the ambergris accord to give a sensual tempo to the composition. An olfactory challenge that puts lavender back into the feminine field of possibilities.

Chloé eau de fleurs capucine - Nasturtium or Tropaeolum majus

With its interlocked leaves and petals, the nasturtium closely guards its secrets. One must dream and fantasize about it to see its presence in a perfumed composition. “I like the simplicity of this flower, which grows in my garden,” admits Louise Turner (Givaudan). “It seems to come straight from an antique botany book or herbarium.” Louise is inspired by her knowledge of wild gardens. She blends refreshing citrus – bergamot, lemon and neroli – with galbanum essence. A concentration of chic, this rarely used crisp green note offers a timeless inflexion to the fragrance. Behind this dense foliage of galbanum and sage, Louise adds a few aromatic touches of juniper berry, like a reference to a man’s wardrobe. And, at this moment, the petals begin to blossom on the skin. An impressionist sensation of faceted flowers of rose essence, rose absolute, jasmine and lily of the valley enwraps the heart of the formula like a mist from an unknown origin. Finally, ambroxan – a sensual and woody amber ingredient – melds with cottony musk to form a comforting halo. .

Chloé eau de fleurs néroli - Neroli or Citrus aurantium var. amara

Immediately recognizable, neroli essence makes everyone smile. Nostalgic of childhood, it diffuses its freshness in numerous perfumery compositions. This also makes it difficult to use: “We had to make the eau de fleurs néroli unique and prevent it from smelling like a baby care product,” explains perfumer Aliénor Massenet (IFF). “I have this very striking memory of a trip to Tunisia, when I walked through a field of bitter orange trees in blossom. And I dreamt of a vibrant, modern and noble neroli.” Surprising one and all, Aliénor Massenet decided to combine mandarin and orange in the head note with a typically masculine aromatic note: rosemary. This explosive dry herb underlines the bitterness of citrus fruit. At the heart of the formula, an exceptional high-quality neroli is swirled into an accord of peony petals and clary sage. With its fresh, spicy, floral and tobacco-like aspect, sage reveals tea accents that raise neroli to the height of modernity. Smitten with amber notes, Aliénor blends white musk, a trace of Tonka bean and an overdose of amber in the drydown for a “bare skin” sensation, along with unexpected, masculine cedar wood. Sweet, yet never innocent, floral and woody, fresh and sunny all at once.

Available from February 2010 exclusively at Saks Fifth Avenue and Chloé boutiques, 100ml for $135.00
info &pics via press release

Guerlain Mouchoir de Monsieur: fragrance review

~by Mike Perez

Some fragrances play the part of the “quiet, silent type”. Let me explain: Strangely, there are fragrances that I’ve sampled that smell like nothing at all. Well…not nothing…but it smells as if a hole has opened up in the air and for a few minutes there is a blank space where the top notes belong. Like pushing PLAY on your IPod and watching the track begin (0:00, 0:01…) and no music plays. This has happened to me several times and I have no idea why. However, most of the time (luckily) scents that start out this way usually turn out to be fragrances that I grow to love. Like Mouchoir de Monsieur by Guerlain.

Before this I sampled the ‘classic’ lavender fougere by Guerlain: Jicky. The Eau de Toilette was too excessively talcum powder prominent, and although I could appreciate the lavender, it felt uncomfortable and slightly matronly on me.. Jicky Eau de Parfum is a shocker: so embarrassingly civet prominent in the top notes, I was instantly repulsed. Waiting for those top notes to calm down took a bit too long and tiresome so I considered sampling the parfum next when I got a sample of MdM.

The first time I sprayed it – I smelled a tiny bit of the Guerlinade, but that was it. Nothing. Sample off? Nose fatigue? A second time, I smelled a bit of the lavender but nothing as spectacular as the Aqua Allegoria Lavande Velours by Guerlain – a gushing lavender / purple violets that’s almost aroma therapeutic . The 3rd time I smelled it I was instantly greeted with a totally different accord – the familiar style of perfumery like Jicky – but swirled together into an entirely different pattern. Jicky remixed into a sturdier more solidly constructed accord. Wonderful! Perfect balance, with all of the parts of Jicky that I wanted: exceedingly high quality lavender, rosemary and bergamot; that unique fern aura; the rich Guerlinade – they are all here, but blended into the civet and woody notes in a richer and luxurious way. The fragrance evolves with a quiet, floral heart giving the patchouli a sophisticated, powdery nuance. Small parts of it remind me of wearing a refreshing eaux cologne, yet it simultaneously retains subtle and important details of Guerlain’s classic feminine fragrances. Not an easy feat.

It doesn’t scream for attention – it is essentially a subtle fragrance, hushed – making its presence known in tiny whiffs here and there, throughout the day, all day. It is, perhaps, for this reason why I couldn’t smell it when I first sampled it. There’s not a blast of aldehydes or synthetic woody ambers to diffuse this scent quickly. And the lavender, sometimes extremely medicinal and sharp, is soft.

I admit – I’m the quiet, silent type myself. At a cocktail party, you’ll find me off in the corner checking out the host’s CD collection instead of socializing and interacting with others. I speak very little but when I speak, I choose my words very carefully…looking you straight in the eyes.

I’m okay being this type of “guy”. It’s who I am. It’s who my father is. Problems come and go. Challenges are thrown my way... I have horrible days, just like everyone else does. I choose to keep all of that inside, most of the time – introspective, reflective and calm to everyone. Only when you get closer to me, do I open up, and only then will I reveal what’s going on underneath the surface.

Just like Mouchoir de Monsieur.

Notes for Guerlain Mouchoir de Monsieur (1904):
Top: lavender, lemon verbena, bergamot
Middle: jasmine, neroli, rose, tonka bean, patchouli, cinnamon
Base: Iris, amber, vanilla, oakmoss

King Juan Carlos I of Spain (depicted) was reputedly one of the few purveyors of Mouchoir de Monsieur before Guerlain decided to re-issue it more widely.


Pics of Cary Grant, Mouchoir de Monsieur bottle and Juan Carlos of Spain via Mike Perez

Serge Lutens Fourreau Noir: fragrance review

Noir this, noir that...What is it about Black that makes it creep up on you with the silent force of a nidja? After Serge Noire [click for review] which was inspired by the black serge material used for clothing for so long, now comes Fourreau Noir from il maestro Serge Lutens and his sidekick Christopher Sheldrake. I was lucky to preview it before its official release (next month) and its perplexing attributes have me pondering on its retro ambience.

The name means "black seath", but also the petticoat garment that was used to make dresses with lower-body volume stay crisp is referenced, as staying even today in fashion parlance "en fourreau pleats". The desire to allude to timelessness is evident and one could liken it to perfume companies' desire to present a hint to the classicism of their compositions not destined to be ephemera (although Guerlain's La Petite Robe Noire was nothing but!)
The coumarinic, benzopyrone tonka bean note laced with only a hint of lavender appears fougère-like (hold the moss, please) in Fourreau Noir with a musk bottom that is between proper and improper; an allusion and wordplay almost, between the Latin lavare (to wash, to clean) of lavender and the intimacy of warm caramel-rich musk ~of which Lutens has cornered the market with polar opposites Clair de Musc and Muscs Kublai Khan. If Encens et Lavande and Gris Clair are intensely about lavender, but of the smoky kind and respectively warm and cool, Fourreau Noir is not predominantly about lavender but tips the hat to the extrait de parfum version of Jicky missing its intensely animalic vintage character (ie.civet).
Fougère ("fern-like") forms one pillar of the modern perfume classification, usually masculine-geared, originally founded by the legendary Fougère Royale for Houbigant which was composed by renowned perfumer Paul Parquet. The main accord of this fantasy scent ~ferns don't really have a smell of their own~ includes a bright top note of lavender and sensual base notes of oakmoss and coumarin, with a popular subdivision being "aromatic fougères" which include herbaceous notes, spices and woods.

Atypical for Lutens arguably to go for an overt masculine smell in any of his fragrances, championing the reign of the unisex so far most vehemently (even the virile-looking Vetiver Oriental is more oriental than vetiver in fact!). Yet in Fourreau Noir, the "black sheath" is more of a throw-back to 80s bachelor silk boxer shorts, encasing "peau de mec" (guy's skin) meant to hint at the seductive stakes of a rich playboy that undulates between Bret Easton Ellis heroes ~ Less Than Zero debutants and American Psycho's gang of lawyers~ splashing a bit of Gaultier's Le Male without any inhibitions as to its perceived gay quota, with a hint of patchouli. Contrary to the cocaine-sniffing which such associations would bring to our vortex with the haste of lightining, there is a discreet and revisionistically pleasant whiff of marihuana-incense plus caspirene (the later reminiscent of a gigantic feminine bestseller, can you guess?). Tonka beans also pledge their allegience with hay, vanilla grass (Anthoxanthum odoratum) and sweet grass (Hierochloe odorata) while coumarin, the main component, derived through the cyclization of cinnamic acid, bunches them up all together for the sweet picking. Suffice to say the intemingling is evocative of closely-shaven cheeks (no three-day stubble from this guy!), topping expensive Cerruti suits, dancing dangerously close to yours.
My friend Denyse first mentioned dihydromyrcenol, a synthetic note which Chandler Burr describes as an abomination ("sink cleanser spilled on an aluminum counter"), included in several masculine fougères and aquatics of the 1990s (Drakkar Noir, Cool Water, Aqua di Gio, CK One, YSL Nuit de l’homme, but also Coco Mademoiselle!!). Dihydromyrcenol as a raw material does smell harshly of lime-citrus with a metallic yet also aromatic edge and is very fresh (interpret this as you'd like). However the effect at least when dabbing Fourreau Noir on the skin is not as harsh as all that to me personally, aided by the mock bravado displayed by the sweeter aspects of the composition no doubt, such as a bittersweet myrrh inclusion, a nod to the majestic Lutensian opus La Myrrhe (to which I will revert soon) as well as the other elements mentioned above (impressions of patchouli, ambery hints).

While Fille en Auguilles (the latest export Lutens fragrance, reviewed here) has unlocked precious memories for me, this one has not produced the same reverie yet, perhaps because that dizzying lifestyle hasn't been mine. If he offers Fourreau Noir, with a handheld velours compact hiding an expensive jewel but shutting swiftly before you touch it as a joke, question yourself about accepting: are you frizzily-haired Pretty Woman enough for it?

Serge Lutens Fourreau Noir notes: tonka bean and lavender, with musk, almond and lightly smoky accents.

Fourreau Noir officially debuts on 1st September 2009 as an exclusive to Les Salons du Palais Royal in Paris (75 ml, 110 €) in the familiar bell-jars that stack up on the purple and black shelves. The picture depicts the Limited Edition bottle which is in total disaccord with anything opulently Lutensian so far: I am perplexed but also intrigued despite myself!
Edit to add: People have been wanting that kitty bottle. Might I point out that it is only the Limited Edition bottle and those go for 850 euros each :-(

Related reading on Perfume Shrine: Serge Lutens news and reviews, Paris shopping


Pics Less Than Zero via pastemagazine.com, Pretty Woman via blog.jinni.com.

Sous le Vent by Guerlain: fragrance review (vintage vs.re-issue)

"Funny business, a woman's career. The things you drop on your way up the ladder so you can move faster. You forget you'll need them when you get back to being a woman." The apothecary splash bottle of Sous le Vent by Guerlain resting atop my dresser with its black, disk-shaped label with gold lettering encircling it, makes me think of the logos of old cinematic companies long defunct starring dramatic heroines with high cheekbones hissing deathly lines clad in impeccable tweeds or gala-time smooth silks. Betty Davies in "All About Eve" comes to my mind as she utters those lines, her character in stark contrast to the outwardly maudlin yet steel-hearted assistant-cum-antagonist Eve Harrington.

Although a literal translation would indicate "in the wind", Sous le Vent is French for "leeward" after the name of the tropical Leeward Isles of the lesser Antilles in the Caribbean: indeed the islands are divided into Windward and Leeward groups. Many among those "greener than a dream" isles were colonised by the French, accounting for an interesting, non-coincidental analogy ~the fruit of the Americas which has been Frenchified into Créole. Sous le Vent was composed by Jacques Guerlain for Joséphine Baker in 1933, according to the charming pamphlet provided by the boutique, as a pick-me up for applying after her notorious dance performances in which she often appeared in nothing more than an all too brief skirt made out of bananas on a string. Strutting her proud gazelle frame in the streets of Paris with a pet leopard in tow made everyone forget about Freda Josephine McDonald's humble St.Louis, Missouri birthplace and her vaudeville beginnings, evoking instead the glamourised image of a jungle animal: fierce, supple, ready to leap! And long before Angelina Jolie and Mia Farrow, she had adopted her own Rainbow Tribe: 12 multi-ethnic orphans, proving that titillation of the public and activism aren't mutually exclusive.

It is of interest to note in the iconography of Guerlain print material on their 20s and 30s scents that Sous Le Vent was featured in characteristic illustrations in the "Are you her type" series that included Mitsouko, Vol de Nuit , Liù and Shalimar, indicating that its eclipse among the classics in subsequent years was not due to a lack of intent. Les garçonnes were its natural audience but the ravages of WWII brought other sensibilities to the fore making an angular androgyne scent antithetical to the femme totemism of the new epoch in which the purring, slightly breathless tones of Marilyn Monroe caressed weary ears. It took Guerlain decades to re-issue it; finally a propos the refurbishing of the 68 Champs Elysées flagship store it was the second one to join the legacy collection affectionally called "il était une fois" (=once upon a time) in 2006 after Véga.

I am in the lucky position to be able to compare an older batch of extrait de parfum with my own bottle of the re-issued juice, and although Luca Turin in his latest book claims that the new is very different from his recollection questioning whether it is his memory or Guerlain's "that is at fault", I can attest that the two are certainly not dramatically different. Being a favourite of the black Venus of the merry times between two world wars, should give us a hint that Sous le Vent is a strong-minded affair of great sophistication and caliber. Difficult to wear as a scent to seduce or invite people to come and linger closer due to its acquiline nature, but very fitting as an unconscious weapon for a woman about to close a difficult business deal, embark on a divorce case or hire a professional assassin. It transpires strength! To that effect the vintage parfum offers rich verdancy, a mollified fond de coeur that is perhaps justified by the very nature of the more concentrated, less top-note-heavy coumpound needed for making the extrait or the diminuation of the effervescent citrus top notes. The modern eau de toilette is a little brighter, a little more streamlined and surprisingly a little sweeter in its final stages, yet quite excellent, making it a scent that always puts me in an energetic good mood wherever I apply it lavinshly -because it is alas rather fleeting- from the bottle.

Technically a chypre, yet poised between that and an aromatic fougère* to me, Sous le Vent bears no great relation to the mysterious guiles of Guerlain's Mitsouko but instead harkens back to the original inspiration behind it, Chypre de Coty, but also to another Guerlain thoroughbred ~Jicky (especially on what concerns the aromatic facet of lavender in the latter's eau de toilette concentration). Sous le Vent is both greener and fresher than Mitsouko and Jicky nevertheless, as it eschews the obvious animalic leapings yet retains the cinnamon/clove accent which will later be found in the fantastically "dirty" and underappreciated Eau d'Hermès. All the while however the piquancy that makes Coty's iconic oeuvre as well as Jicky so compelling is unmistakeably there.

Sous le Vent starts with a rush of subtly medicinal top notes of herbs that smell like lavender, rosemary and tarragon, a full spectrum of Provençal aromata. A tart bergamot note along with what seems like bitterly green galbanum skyrocket the scent into the territory of freshness and a smart "clean". Its next stage encompasses dry accords, soon mollified by the heart chord of a classic chypre composition of dusty moss with the sweet tonality of generous flowers that evoke the banana fruit: ylang ylang notably and jasmine sambac. In the final stages I seem to perceive the dusky foliage of patchouli.

Potent and assertive thought it first appears to be, a take-no-prisoners affair for a lady who was known to dance with only a skirt of bananas on, leaving her country for France and being idolized by all social strata, it screams of individualism and élan; yet strangely Sous le Vent, especially the gangly new version, doesn't invoke the scandalising side of Josephine nor her exuberant nature. Complex and elusive, it is certainly not an easy option for today’s women's sensibilities; it is rather too cerebral, too intelligent for its own good, not sexy enough. These qualities however would make it a wonderful masculine addition to a cocky fellow's repertoire. This travel back into more glamorous and individual times is worth the price of admission. Wear it if you are really interesting as a person, it will only enhance that quality.

Notes for Sous le Vent:
Top: bergamot, lavender, tarragon
Middle: jasmine, carnation, green notes
Base: iris, foresty notes, woody notes

The vintage parfum can be found on Ebay from time to time. The current re-issue in Eau de Toilette concentration is part of the Il était une fois collection exclusively sold at boutiques Guerlain and the éspace Guerlain at Bergdorf Goodman, housed in an apothecary style cylindrical bottle of 125ml with a gold thread securing a seal on the cap.

A sample of the modern re-issue will be given to a random lucky reader!

*Fougère is a classic olfactory family -mainly of masculine scents- that relies on a chord of lavender-coumarin-oakmoss.

Pic of Sous le Vent advertisement courtesy of femina.fr
Pic of Josephine Baker costumed for the Danse banane from the Folies Bergère production Un Vent de Folie in Paris (1927) courtesy of Wikimedia commons.

Vero profumo line ~Kiki: fragrance review

The new niche line I have promised you is none other than Vero Profumo, the spiritual child of Vero Kern, a Switzerland based aromatologist and Paris trained perfumer under the mentoring of none other than famous legend Guy Robert.
I was immensely flattered to find that Vero had been browsing my blog from time to time and as conversation about perfume has a way of broadening horizons and make leaps into the territory of the unknown, I came to virtually meet this kind, eloquent, thoughtful person and try out the precious perfumes.

The introduction that is offered on the impressive and quite artistic site (click here to take a look) is very telling of the motivation that exists behind any intelligent, artful creation. Because perfumery is commerce, but in this day and age we so often forget that it is also an art form: something that does not take account so much the name, the image, the advertising budget and subsequent campaign as the topmost qualities to determine the impact of a scent in the market, but also a product that can bring elation and beauty in one's life at the spritz of an atomiser. As Vero so rightfully says:

"Fragrances and aromas are with us all the time, wherever we go. They can touch us emotionally, even seduce us, and they influence our wellbeing.
Perfume is more than a temporary accessory. It is an unseen "calling card" representing your personality. An imaginary embrace, a "folie a deux" or maybe even a liaison dangereuse. A "je ne sais quoi" that follows like the tail follows a comet".

Indeed unravelling the ties that make up a beautiful composition is like opening up an oyster to find a luminous pearl hidden inside; hidden from the world for the delectation it seems of an inward need. Vero uses precious essences and natural compounds as much as possible realising that the quinta essentia that those materials harbour in their core is accounting for a richer, more multi-nuanced experience than the one rendered by only aromachemicals as is the case with most mainstream perfumery. Of course the synthetic molecules out of a lab can also be used to great aplomb and in this line they are not excluded, but they do not take center stage; rather aid the main act like a chorus in ancient drama ~echoing the main theme, commenting subtly on the protagonists, offering some coaxing when needed.
Her line of perfumes includes three loveable creations in extrait de parfum concentration that captured me in varying degrees: Kiki, Onda and Rubj. Each individual and unique, yet all bonded by an artistic signature that accounts for a certain style through the line. And that is usually the mark of someone who knows what they're doing.
There is a desire to revert to the classicism of yore that provided masterpieces that endure, yet seen through a modern look that makes them awaken the emotions of a contemporary sensibility.

It is in this context that I came upon Kiki, a precious gem of a perfume that has me hooked and hankering for a note that I am usually averse to: namely, lavender. As readers of PerfumeShrine may recall, Andy Tauer's Rêverie au Jardin is one of the few lavender scents that have managed to capture my heart exactly because he managed to render a soft embrace out of it, caressed in a warm scarf worn around the neck on a cool evening strolling along a peaceful garden with a loved one.

If Andy's lavender is a casual, feel good scent that is to be shared with your long-time lover while holding hands and breathing the evening provencial air, making dreams about the eminent future, envisioning a cozy existence of loving sharing, Kiki is more extroverted and naughty signifying the attitude of an illicit couple out for a good time in the city of Light, Paris.
Although lavender is herbaceous and somewhat medicinal by nature (albeit the user of most commercial mass-market products would be hard pressed to realise that, as it is usually swamped by synthetic vanillin to make it cuddly), in Kiki it is clear and distinct for a long while but never becomes bitter nor unpleasant. The undercurrent of a bodily warmth hides in there and some muskiness that retains the sweet smell of sheets in which you have rolled over with your lover and later eaten on while on a Paris tantalizing naughty trip. It is redolent of sexy but classy lacy underwear in ivory that has been kept in those powdered-scented big cardboard boxes with tissue paper, to be used with the sole intent of getting out of it real soon. And if there is some caramel suryp in the room, it will see good use as well.

As the scent progresses interweaving elements of slightly sweet fruity notes that do not overwhelm it becomes intoxicating, like a promenade along the Rive Gauche and the Monmarte, trying to visualise the infamous Kiki de Montparnasse (real name Alice Prin) and her crazy 1920s days: a model, a lover, a nightime queen.
The lasting power and sillage are amazing, as this wafts caramely whiffs with powdery opoponax-patchouli accords throughout the day and into the night, whispering sweet nothings into the ear of the object of a dangerous and irresistible affair. As it can be shared by both sexes, it becomes a memento of a time spent in pure sensualism and pleasure in the big city. Who would have thought that when saying "lavender"? I knew you wouldn't be able to come up with an answer to that one...



Vero Profumo fragrances can be sampled/bought in Switzerland and neighbouring countries through the site. You can also contact Vero at profumo@veroprofumo.com.
Plans to bring the line to the US are scheduled for mid 2008.
Prices for Kiki extrait de parfum are 105 euros for 7.5ml and 165 euros for 15ml.


Next post will tackle another Vero Kern perfume.



Top pic from film Hors de Prix, courtesy of athinorama.gr
Pic of Kiki courtesy of kaismart.com/journal

Belle en Rykiel: fragrance review

This is the time to test your span of attention, dear readers. Remember how I had talked about the upcoming new fragrance from Sonia Rykiel, madame de tricot, full of anticipation, back in the day? It was last October on my previous venue, on another host. You can read what I had written and the official info on the new perfume here.
Today I will occupy myself with accounting my actual sniffing experience for your delectation.

Sonia Rykiel is a true Parisian eccentric lady with elegant daughter Nathalie as precious accomplice in their adventures in knit, navy clothes Breton-style and the ubiquitous black. Her signature frizzy red mane is only a hint of her willingness to participate in outré concepts like their new boutique with all the naughty props...
In perfumery she hasn't made any faux pas, starting their fragrant stable with the great dry woody Sonia Rykiel Le parfum in 1993. It was as late as 1997 that they issued their next one, named simply Sonia Rykiel in the sweater torso bottle with the strass on the chest, boxed in an orange rectangle and smelling of sweet fruits mingled with vanilla and caramel, inspired by the success of Angel, making this one for gourmands in every sense of the word. The following year saw L'eau de Sonia Rykiel, a predictably aquatic "blue" scent to satisfy the end of the market that had moved on from L'eau d'Issey because of its mass popularity and wanted something a little more private and subtle; while 2000 was the year Rykiel catered for men as well with her dark Rykiel Homme. The collection now seemed complete.
However when something is good saleswise, perfume houses and marketing teams want to capitalize on that: enter Rykiel Rose (2000) in a version of the original sweater bottle, this time tinged in a very becoming pink hue, redolent of succulent tarter fruits and a sparkling interpretation of the king of flowers (for most folks, I'm not one of them!)
By the same token Rykiel Grey (2003) was a male tart and sexy musky version in another sweater bottle, while the true masterpiece came out that same year and was emphatically and irrevocably destined for women: Rykiel Woman, not for men!(in eau de parfum; the eau de toilette that launched two years later is sadly different and not on a par).

The newest Belle en Rykiel , created by nose Jean Pierre Bethouart (working for Firmenich), crossed my path for real this time like an accidental rencontre with someone you had heard lots about half-remembering what that someone was like. Time had passed and I did not remember any notes or description, just that it was a promising new release from the designer who captured my heart with Rykiel Woman,not for men! rich crayons of a dusky, musky hue. I was therefore a complete virgin in regards to sampling it when the genuine surprise of seeing the heavy architectural bottle subsided. Surprise, because although I had been informed that it had already launched since last autumn I had not yet located a tester. This is an irritating phenomenon that has to stop: how is it possible to sell something, a new product on top of that, without a tester available for the buyer to sample from? Some mysterious clairvoyant act of genius must transpire, I guess...

The official description promised an aromatic oriental, presumambly because of the inclusion of one of the most traditional aromatics in perfumery that has done a comeback -much like the also for long forgotten violet note- that is lavender. Now, lavender is usually a masculine element, both because of its traditional and somewhat expected inclusion in so many men's scents, from Grey Flannel to Goutal's Eau de Lavande. And to tell you the truth it is not my personal favourite note in a women's perfume, because if it is the real stuff it smells quite medicinal which I find offputting, and if it is not it's even worse; a travesty smothered in easy to swallow vanilla cream like kid's pills. If you have to have something, be a man and take it as it is, is my motto!
However, truth be told, in Belle en Rykiel it smells neither very prominent, nor masculine.
Its celebral coupling with incense, as promised by the promotion text, gave me an idea that maybe it would be an echo of Encens et Lavande by Serge Lutens, a Paris exclusive with the most gorgeous drydown (final phase) of smooth olibanum/frankincense that recalls the heavy damasc drapery of a baroque cathedral in the time of the Spanish Inquisition.
However in Belle en Rykiel, I am a little disappointed to report that the final impression is not as dramatic or richly evocative of similar decadence with the resplendour of such historical periods.

Upon spraying the light golden liquid on my wrists the tartness of mandarin and berry overtook any possible medicinal tendency lavender has, with a projection that at first seemed a bit strong for my taste. It took a while for it to unfold the powdery and sweet heliotropin which emerged triumphantly in the middle along with a garland of light incense that is nowhere near the eclesiastical dense cloud of Avignon or the sheer drama of Norma Kamali Incense.
Patchouli seems like such an ubiquitous element in half of today's perfumes that frankly, although I love its aroma, it's getting me a little bored. Here it offers its sweet ambience in compliance to the amber, never overstagging it. The bois d'acajou (mahogany) note listed is something to which I am unfamiliar with, excluding the eponymous limited edion by Etro and furniture of course, but admittedly the composition smells more like a woody oriental to me than an aromatic one.
On the whole, although Belle en Rykiel starts with somewhat of a blast it soon becomes soft and subtly sweet staying close to the skin the way another sensual Lutens scent, Chergui, does or even evoking the baked skin of L de Lolita Lempicka, the whole lasting quite a while.

Would I rush out and buy a bottle? Probably not, because I feel that it is not terribly original to warrant a purchase since I have similar things in my collection already; however it would not disappoint the woman who is tired of fruity florals or overtly foody scents and out to purchase a modern oriental that would never garner comments of it being out of synch with today's sensibilities, yet manage to smell feminine and inviting.

Belle en Rykiel comes in Eau de parfum concentration in 40, 75 and 100ml priced 40, 60 and 75 euros respectively. Available from major department stores in Europe. Soon to be released in the US and rest of the world.

Pic came uncredited to me via email, probably courtesy of Lavazza calendar campaign.