Caught In Her Clutches ~Ma Griffe by Carven: fragrance review

Mademoiselle Carven defined her fragrant prototype as "an outdoor perfume that needs to give up its heady character", resembling her, hence the name and the packaging: "white for innocence, youth, and freshness; green because to me it's the most beautiful colour in the world". The creation was none other than Ma Griffe (my signature), the legendary 1946 masterpiece of -by then- already anosmic Jean Carles, for which a startlingly different advertising campaign was devised: parachuting Trocadero in Paris with thousands of sample bottles! What a wonderful idea!

But Carven wasn't born so. Petite to extremis, Mademoiselle Carmen de Tomaso founded a fashion house at ni6, Rond Point des Champs Elysées to cater to dainty women's needs like her own, among them Michelle Morgan and Edith Piaf. She decided very early on that her Spanish-sounding name was not on a par in the Paris scene; so she went through the whole alphabet substituting consonants till she stumbled upon V. Carven it would be, alors! From then on she produced frocks as well as frags, from Vert et Blanc and the iconic men's Vétiver to the trio of Robe d'un Jour, Robe d'un Soir and Robe d'un Rêve (a dress for day, a dress for evening and a dress for a dream).

Ma Griffe is referenced in Janet Fitch's novel White Oleander , a story about dysfunctional foster care, as the signature scent of Olivia Johnstone, a stylish and agreeable prostitute next door who befriends the young narrator Astrid and later gives her a bottle of Penhaligon's, a metaphor for their relationship. Fitch had an aunt who was an actress, spoke French and traveled to Paris, so when "a really chic French perfume" was needed, Ma Griffe came to mind.

True to form, Ma Griffe is a very Parisian idea of a springtime and summer fragrance, très élegant, its cooling freshness contrasting with warmth underneath, powdery as nothing else can be and starkly green. The gardenia note is constructed on styralyll acetate, same as in Miss Dior one year later on a formula by Jean Carles perfectioned by Paul Vacher. Generally floral chypres of the times relied on the heady greenness of this synthesized aroma for their kick of feminine guiles, before progressing to jasmolactone and the tiglates of today.
Like I had written when composing the Chypre Series, Ma Griffe was conceived to be "very powdery dry and quite spicy thanks to the weird note of styrax, [...and] managed to be assertive in its name (it means "my signature", but also "my talon") and supremely sparkly and feminine in its aroma. It marked the introduction of chypres into the arena of professional women. Those were not factory workers of the war or flappers; they were secretaries at the new firms; twin set in place, string of pearls and a slick of lipstick on impeccably powdered faces. The psychology of those new chypres talked about women who earned their living by themselves, but did not manifest themselves as sexual predators: There is a sense of detachment and intelligence".


Sadly, Ma Griffe has changed its colours like a cornered chameleon over the years, due to change of ownership of the brand, resulting in the occasional cheapening of the formula, opposing opinions and confusion when trying to locate a bottle that prompts the djin to come out. The formula has indeed been reworked multiple times since its birth, ending with the latest version of 2006 eau de parfum being a one-dimensional soapy floral. Current owndership of Arco International is reportedly trying to reposition it. Let's hope so!

Maria, also known as Bittergrace to her accomplishes in pagan reversion, critters' photography, political wit and artistic smuttiness, had been most kind in sending me a round of vintage versions for me to compare and contrast with my own and the memories of the women in my family who have worn Ma Griffe faithfully.

The oldest, coming from the 70s in a splash bottle smells intensely citrusy, with an aldehydic fizz that makes a sparkling overture to the floral green proceedings. Since bergamot was one of the first photo sensitizers to be heavily restricted, I assume the second batch in a clear swirl-capped bottle, which comes from the 80s, has lost its shining citrus tang due to that. In addition it is heavily powdery and more assertive, in accordance to the times perhaps, with a pleasing off note that manages to remind me of the impossibly chic fragrance my grandmother wore. Last, but not least, an early to mid-90s formula of parfum de toilette reveals facets of the 80s vintage but less potent, while still not as bright as the first one, but quite good.
Maria warned me about the 'eau de toilette' in a broad-shouldered bottle with a green plastic cap, describing it as "just unbelievably awful. Avoid it like the plague!" Duly noted, Maria!

Originally Ma Griffe was marketed as a young scent at a time when the youth segment had not been catered for. Ironically one of the most common complaints is it smells old. Myself, I ascribe that only to changed perceptions and vogues.
Ma Griffe can be traced on online discounters, certain shops and on Ebay. Careful attention to packaging and bottles as well as sampling from different periods might help you find the version you prefer.

Notes:
Top: Gardenia, Galbanum, Aldehydes, Clary sage
Middle: Jasmine, Ylang-Ylang, Rose, Sandal, Vetiver
Base: Styrax, Cinnamon, Benzoin, Tonka Bean, Labdanum, Musk

Pics courtesy of parfum de pub. Clip originally uploaded by courageousjohnny on Youtube

Little known facts: fragrance history

I have been keeping these "on ice", so to speak, for some time. They're interesting and fun to know and probably not too practical either, but thought I'd share.



Light Blue: It's the title and colour of attire by which a representative of Cambridge in an athletic tournament goes by, its counterpoint being Dark Blue *for Oxford. It goes back to the boatraces between the two university towns many years ago, specifically the Varsity Match. Something tells me Dolce & Gabanna never thought of that!

"The man who began the Varsity match tradition was Charles Wordsworth of Christ Church college Oxford, who in June 1827 arranged a two-day cricket match against Cambridge at Lords. The first Boat Race between the two universities was in 1829, and was rowed over 2 and a quarter miles between Hambleden Lock and Henley Bridge. The second Boat Race was not until 1836 which was rowed over more than double the distance, from Westminster Bridge upstream to Putney Bridge. It was in this race that one of the Cambridge oarsmen tied a light blue ribbon to the bows of the Cambridge boat (the colours of his school, Eton College). The colour dark blue was then ascribed to Oxford because it is the colour of Christ Church college, and the Oxford crew sported white jerseys with dark blue stripes during the race. These colours have remained over the years and now sportsmen who have represented Oxford in a Varsity match against Cambridge in a Full Blue sport are entitled to wear a dark blue blazer".

~according to Sport.ox.ac.uk



Chamade: Technically thus is called the drumroll that in the Napoleonic wars signalled retreat. Also used by Françoise Sagan in her novel, La Chamade as a sign of erotic surrender ("son coeur bat la chamade"). Interestingly, on top of all that, the name of a quite successful car model by French auto-industry Renault!
Guerlain had chosen a wonderful vehicle for conveying the sweet message of romantic surrender to love.

Listerine: Now known as a deodorising mouthwash and also a series of oral hygiene products, it began its career as a house and hospital general antiseptic in the 1870s! It only re-invented itself as a mouthwash in 1920, through cunning and rather manipulative advertising; even inventing the non-existent medical term halitosis for what is commonly known as bad breath!

Ma Griffe: In French it means both "my signature" (hence a designer's marquee is called one's griffe) and "my talon" (accordingly pictured in advertisements in the 1970s). So basically, Ma Griffe hints at having someone at your clutches: not exactly the prim image we have of it, now, is it?

Eternity: The Calvin Klein scent derives its name from the eternity ring of Mrs.Simpson (which was a gift by the Duke of Windsor) that Calvin bought at an auction for his then wife Kelly Rector. Inside the ring there was a simple inscription: Eternity. Which was the case for the Windsors, but not for the Kleins as they seperated later on.

More fun later on!


*Thanks to Bela for pointing out that the translation for "dark" vs "deep" does denote a difference in shade in this instance.

Pics courtesy of ciao.fr and parfumdepub

The Dior Chypres series ~Miss Dior: fragrance review

“I will tell you of a perfume which my mistress has from the graces and the gods of love; when you smell it, you will ask of the deities to make of you only a nose”. It is in those words that the Roman writer Catullus speaks of the seductive guiles of feminine fragrance. Miss Dior is such a seductive scent, compelling you to ask the deities for favors they ~alas!~ cannot grant you.
Almost everything has been said about this classic of classics that saw the light of day in 1947, so I won’t bore you with the same old, same old about the New Look and how it came about. Instead I will tentatively try to give you the feel I get from this scent and the associations I get in my mind.

Technically a floral leathery chypre, Miss Dior is a soigné miss only in exterior appearances, all prim and proper, because once inside the beast takes over and you smell the animal in its peak of copulating frenzy. There is some element of appocrine in the fragrance and I am not talking about sweat or urine. Although there is the clean overlay of aldehydic waxiness and soft flowers you catch a whiff of more feral, impolite essences. Under the clean exterior there is the carnal cat-call and you feel as if it is perhaps too scrubbed clean to be without ulterior motive. I suspect this is due to civet or civetone, because there is also a pronounced warmth in the background, despite the cooler opening.

The effect is more evident in extrait de parfum especially, which bears a marked difference to the eau de toilette. The latter is more powdery with the slightly bitter, cottony feel of coumarin and has an exuberant, bright green start due to the inclusion of galbanum and aromatic clary sage. Those two ingredients, along with styralyl acetate (naturally found in gardenia buds), is what makes me think of the original Ma Griffe by Carven to which it professes kinship in its initial stages. The galbanum touch might also recall the verdancy of Balmain’s Vent Vert (which came out the same year), although the latter is stridently green in the vintage edition which might seem jarring compared to Miss Dior. The latter also has a soft peachiness to it, characteristic of the Roudnitska touch presumely, which must be derived from some aldehydic compound or other molecular combination, different though from the C14 of Mitsouko. It is a peachiness that I have encountered in hair products, hence my assumption that it is chemically constructed.
The base is smothered in troubling patchouli, moss and earthy vetiver. However this is not the pared down patchouli of modern fragrances that is so ubiquitous in everything churned out at a frantic pace in the last couple of years. There is shady vibrancy in this that defies the clean aspect of the modern patchouli interpretations and a roundness in which notes do not compete with each other for stage space.

As I first inhale whiffs of Miss Dior sprayed into the air, I am transported into a mirage that entails majestic mountains surrounding meadows of lavender and narcissi in bloom, where ultra prim damsels wade through. Their long flaxen hair down, their eyes bright with anticipation in their precious moments of freedom as they turn past oak trees into a little slice of heaven; a pond filled with crystalline waters. And there, out of the blue emerges the catalyst: the object of fantasy and secret longing of who knows what exactly. Acres of moist skin, droplets shinning in the morning sun and wet hair that smells like it hadn’t been washed in a while; that fatty, waxy smell of familiarity, yet for them uncharted territory still. The pungency of horse and saddle distantly echoed in the background.

Here it is:


(Levis commercial uploaded by ladynea)
{The song is "Inside" by one-hit wonder Stiltskin (from 1994)}.

Christian Dior confided that

"...I created this perfume to dress every woman with a trail of desire, and to see emerging from her small bottle all my dresses...”.

Based on a formula by Jean Carles, it was composed by Paul Vacher and later re-arranged in 1992 by Edmond Roudnitska in extrait de parfum. It hoped to open new vistas of optimism after the privations of the war and in a way it did.

Unfortunately, as is so often the case with older creations, there has been some re-orchestration of Miss Dior’s symphony since. Very recent batches do not smell as oily and precise as they did, due to a mollifying of the top notes that deducted the sharp peppery greeness of galbanum giving way to a citrus leaf aroma, not unlike the one in O de Lancome. Also an attenuation of the chypre accord with more vetiver makes the new version less assertive and murky than it used to, rendering it less erotic in effect. At least Evernia Prunastri (oakmoss) and Evernia Furfurea (tree moss) are still listed, although to what ratio it is unknown (hypothesized to a lesser one).
If you happen upon Eau de Cologne bottles, those are surely vintage and they are a pretty good acquisition in lieu of extrait de parfum, if you can’t afford or find it.

It is interesting to note that by today’s standards Miss Dior smells “old-fashioned”, even though it was conceived as a young fragrance aimed at debutantes. Less polite souls would baptize it “old lady”, a blanket term so lacking in qualitative nuance that renders it completely useless. Indeed I was able to witness its effect personally. I happened to spritz a vintage (circa 1985) emerging from a ladies’ restroom, washing in front of two teenager girls who were watching me through the mirror while glossing their puckered lips. Aren’t those times tittilating for budding womanhood? Of course I volunteered to scent them, ever eager to introduce young girls into proper perfumes. One of them staggered back in what seemed like abject horror (judging by the look in her eye) professing the opinion it was “too heavy for her”, the other was more cooperative and allowed me two spritzes on her woolen scarf. Although at first she too seemed a little overwhelmed, after a minute, when alcohol had evaporated, she took the scarf close to her nose and nuzzled deeply. Yeah, there was a look of mischief in her eye as she thanked me. And there you have it: Miss Dior has this double effect; it will make some think it’s heavy and old, it will entrance others on second sniff. I am sure that girl went off to venture into romantic escapades with ackward beaux that could not appreciate the raw power of its labdanum and moss base; beaux whose fathers will be much more receptive to her nubile charms, American-Beauty-style.

Miss Dior is the scent of sexual awakening. A trully naughty perfume under the prim and proper exterior of houndstooth. But hounds do discover the best prey, don’t they?

Official notes: galbanum, bergamot, clary sage, gardenia, jasmine, narcissus, neroli, rose, patchouli, oakmoss, labdanum, sandalwood

NOTA BENE: The above review pertains to the 1947 fragrance formula and the reformulations happening till the early 2000s. As of 2011, the classic Miss Dior is renamed Miss Dior EDT Originale and Miss Dior Cherie from 2005 has become simply... Miss Dior. Please read this article with pics on how to spot which Miss Dior fragrance version you're buying.

For our French-speaking readers there is a nice clip about the 1947 introduction of the New Look with a confessionary voiceover by Fanny Ardant.
Click here:

(uploaded by vodeotv)

We have more surprises on the Shrine for you later on...

Ad from okadi.

Chypre series 5: chronology and the zeitgeist

It has long been my opinion that fragrances do not merely reflect their makers' vision or the desire to attain beauty and harmony through an ethereal means such as the fume of a precious liquid. They are routinely shaped by the circumstances that define much of the popular culture around us; they take form from the spirit of the moment, the zeitgeist. Hegel would have turned in his grave hearing us applying his Philosophy of History term applied to fragrance, but nevertheless it always seemed appropriate to me. Because, if you really think about it, aren't scents the expression of cultural tendencies and the aspirational mores of the ethos of select segments in society?

Thus, chypre fragrances evolved through a particular cultural necessity that alternately dictated allegience to forces of cool earthiness, or feminine powderiness or elegant sophistication. Although chypres have been in existence since antiquity, as previously discussed, it is most fascinating to contemplate their evolution in the 20th century.

Contrary to popular perception, François Coty was not the first to associate the name Chypre with a particular perfume in 1917. Guerlain's Chypre de Paris preceded him by 8 years, issued in as early as 1909. Chypre d'Orsay was the next one to be introduced, in 1912. However it was Coty's that really took off and became an instant commercial success that created traction and a vogue for such heavy "green" perfumes. It was also the year when Caron launched their Tabac Blond, a daring concept at the time, encouraging women to smell like they smoke, considered terribly chic then.
It was the time before the Great War, when disillusionment had not set in and the introduction of the exotic, sensual mystique of the East hadn't budded yet. It would take legendary Mitsouko by, Guerlain in 1919, inspired by a Japanese heroine in the then best-selling novel "La Bataille" to do that. The success of Les ballets Russes under impressario Diaghilev's artistic baguette (who incidentally loved Mitsouko and used it on his hotel curtains) brought on the vogue for orientals in the 1920s, as manifested by the roaring success of khol-eyed Shalimar. Suddenly everything oriental hinted at abandon and sensuality, the forbidden territory in which "flappers", the independent women of the time, marched through with renewed confidence.
Chypres and tobacco scents provided also a backdrop for confidence and individualism that marked this new era in women's emancipation. Long pipes of ebony and ivory were often held in elegant hands that bore the glamorous manicure of the times and the dark lips that recalled Theda Bara. Molinard's Le Chypre was introduced in 1925 and in 1933 Jacques Guerlain launched Sous le Vent to capture the soul of artiste Josephine Baker, the woman who shocked Americans and mesmerised the Paris audiences. (You can read a full review of Sous le vent clicking here).
The leathery chypre of Chanel, Cuir de Russie, was brought out in 1924, using birch tar as the note that skyrocketed it into the realm of utter sophistication.

As the great Crash crashed hopes of affluence and resurgence for the masses,chypres lost some of their cachet in favour of more economical propositions, at least in the United States. However perusing lists of perfume houses from the perior 1919 up to 1949, we see that every one of them had some chypre fragrance listed in their catalogues. Obviously this was a family that was considered sine qua non for perfume makers. It was often that they married the classic chypre accord with flowers, such as rose, jasmine, carnation, heliotrope or geranium, to render a more feminine note.
Contrast this with today's world in which the name Chypre is associated with more obscure or niche fragrance marketers such as Vivienne, Scientex, Arys, Montale, E.N.Z., Peckinsniffs, and Patyke. They take the heritage of Coty's success with them, but they are not at the front row of fashion. On the other hand, maybe the lack of such identical nomenclature in commercial scents has to do with marketing strategies that point to the direction of more original names that would differentiate products from one another among brands (the fact that they are not that differentiated among the offering of the same brand, what with the flankers of 1, 2, light, summer etc. is fodder for another post).

In the difficult years of World War II, it was the genius of Edmond Roudnitska that saw the potential of a long forgotten vat of methyl ionone that smelled of prunes in the factory that he was working trying to find such exciting things as butter substitute and such due to the privations of war. Femme was the dense fruity chypre of 1944 that recalled an upscale confectionary shop and which became the first perfume of couturier Marchel Rochas, a wedding present to his beautiful young bride.
It is interesting to contrast this with the dyke-y creation of nez extraordinaire Germaine Cellier Bandit for Rober Piguet issued in the same year. An ox-feller of a leathery chypre, Bandit was inspired by the panties that models wore exiting the runway; which according to Cellier was "when they let out the best of their femininity". It is no secret that Cellier was a homosexual...
Bandit was a proud creation that unabashedly confirms the aloofness of intense vetiver and patchouli smeared on used leather and with the echo of moss and flowers in the background. One can picture it on an interesting woman or a daring man. They have to be so to begin with, though, and not hoping to graft the image onto themselves through perfume.

After World War II, chypres saw a reigning period again according to perfume writer Michael Edwards, this time in the guise of less orientalised variations that were removed from the mystery of Mitsouko and more into the powderiness or the couture elegance that was depicted in Ma Griffe and Miss Dior.
Ma Griffe was another post-War chypre, a true masterpiece by nose Jean Carles for the house of Carven. Very powdery dry and quite spicy thanks to the weird note of styrax, Ma Griffe managed to be assertive in its name (it means "my signature", but also "my talon") and supremely sparkly and feminine in its aroma. It marked the introduction of chypres into the arena of professional women. Those were not factory workers of the war or flappers; they were secretaries at the new firms; twin set in place, string of pearls and a slick of lipstick on impecably powdered faces. The psychology of those new chypres talked about women who earned their living by themselves, but did not manifest themselves as sexual predators. There is a sense of detachment and intelligence.

Christian Dior had just launched the New Look in 1947 that took trainloads of fabric to new heights of spending, in an effort to maximise fabric sales but also to inject a hopeful touch into the hearts of women who had bid farewell to the rationed days of the war.( It is an old adage by Yves Saint Laurent that in times of economic shortage couturiers use a bit more fabric to boost the market, whereas in times of economic affluence -such as the 60s- the shorter length is king). Miss Dior became a best-seller and a crowd pleaser that managed not to sit on the fence, but to take an animalistic backdrop and smother it with soft flowers such as gardenia, narcissus, lily of the valley and green touches of galbanum and aldeydes. It spoke of a new elegance and a subdued sensuality that was not aggressive like that of the flappers, but more pedigreed and delicate, yet undeniably naughty underneath especially in the glorious parfum/extrait concentration.

Well into the 50s, chypres were popular. Jolie Madame was another product of Germaine Cellier, in 1953, that reprised the animalic, leathery theme; this time with very green and violety notes that cede to a big box of talcum powder. This is definitely a turn to the more restrained and professional as befited the times.
Cabochard for Gres by Bernand Chant in 1959 was more devil-may-care in attitude. Obviously there were different types of women to be catered for with the era's chypres and this one was destined for those who were powerful and dominant. Madame Gres said she was inspired by a trip to India. The bitter orange opening on spice and leather and the powdery depths beguiled and asserted themselves in the memory of anyone smelling it. Reformulated in later years, it has been irrecovably ruined, I am afraid. It is a pity, as it used to have a very individual character, hard to mimic, although it does bear some relation to another of Bernard Chant's offerings, Aromatics Elixir by Clinique.
In 1961, Guy Robert created Caleche for the house of Hermes, inspired by a fine type of carriage. The quiet resonance of this scent was completely in tune with the times, exuding copious amount of good taste while remaining tame with its sensuality under wraps; a cladestine affair was not in the programme, but should it ever happen it would remain a very well-kept secret. The sparkle of aldehydes mid-way between two trends, floral and chyprish, gave a fizziness that was also popular at the times, imbuing the whole with a feminine touch that was distinctly Parisian.

But the 1960s was a different time. Although they begun in the soft powdwery florals and the aldehydics, soon Mary Quant with the mini, the Beatles and the hippy movement and the ravages of war in Vietnam and the politics of the time swang the pendulum in another direction that meant another mentality in perfume. Nature and the smells of the body were explored in simple oils, headshop ones, such as straight patchouli and aromas that had a "pot" aroma to them. Clearly this was another page.

It was not until the 1970s when chypres dominated the perfume scene again, as a second wave of women's emancipation came to the fore. The kickstart was given by Chanel No.19, a fragrance that is traditionally classified as a green floral, created by Henri Robert for Coco Chanel herself (and overviewed by her from beginning to end), later to be publicly launched. However among the different concentrations one can feel a chyprish quality in the drier, more iris-vetiver rich eau de toilette, whereas the eau de parfum is rosier and more floral. In parfum/extrair concentration there is such dry depth that it re-affirms its position at the top of my list for elegant fragances for confident women. It seemed that it created an avalanche of chypres, dry, crisp and cerebral this time, echoing the new status of women who needed men "as much as fish needed bicycles".
Diorella was another legendary Roudnitska creation that remains enigmatic and minimalistic to this day. It begun as an attempt to capitalise on the trend of women wearing men's scents, which had started with yet another Roudnitska creation, Eau Sauvage for Dior. Diorella was to be the more feminine sister scent so that women could claim it as their own. Too crisp and fresh with its lemon opening and its fruity greeness for it to be really sensual, but an elegant insouciant fragrance for the young women who wore trousers and set out to rule the world. The latter image was best depicted by Charlie, that best-seller by Revlon (1973), which revolutionised advertising, depicting women in pants for the first time and focusing on the sheer power and confidence that it gave women who didn't need a man to be successful. It was trully revolutionary, at least conceptually!
Aromatics Elixir for Clinique and Alliage for Lauder (both in 1972), Coriandre by Jean Couturier (with the addition of a large percentage of magnolione, a material similar to hedoine but with more of a jasmine quality) and Private Collection by Lauder (both in 1973) and finally Halston in 1975; all saw this new trend take shape.
Interestingly Givenchy brought out Givenchy Gentleman in 1974, a masculine chypre full of pungent patchouli and a true masterpiece of calculated olfactory assault that married tarragon, vetiver and russian leather, showing that men could project the traditional assured image themselves still.

As the decade was coming to an end, the hyber success of spicy oriental Opium meant a new direction that would take the carnal and affluent capitalistic 80s into new avenues of perfume exhibitionism. The sophistication and powderiness of chypres took a backseat to such bombastic examples as Obsession, Giorgio and Poison.
However they did not completely disappear, with cerebral examples that encompassed Ungaro's rosy bombshell Diva in 1982, Niki de saint Phalle (the 1984 creation of a talented sculptor famous for her snakes and bearing those on the bottle), Knowing by Lauder in 1988 (inspired by the smell of pittosporum smelled during holidays in the south of France) and La perla by luxe lingerie brand in 1986.
In the masculine field, Drakkar Noir by Guy Laroche was launched in 1982; a fougere scent (with borrowed elements off the very herbal chypres) that took the name of Viking ships to emphasize masculinity and which sported tangy verbena and lemon rind with a herbal heart of coriander, lavender and juniper berries on bottom notes of patchouli, sandalwood and fir balsam. It proved to be a bestseller in the corporate world of the Wall-Street-decade.
Nevertheless, the most memorable example of the decade in the category of chypres is perhaps Paloma Picasso, Pablo's daughter's foray into perfumery which was imbued with her unique, bold style and matched her Spanish roots and signature red lips: assured. It brought the animalic quality of castoreum into the vogue again interpreting it into a domineering personality that made Montana follow suit with his Parfum de Peau in the blue box in 1986, with its beautiful bottle inspired by the swirling fall of a winged sycamore seed as seen by a strobe light, designed by Serge Mansau. Magnificently intense and terribly potent it was perhaps the last chypre chronologically to make the aggressive mark.

By the 90s, things changed again as the baby boom took place and there was a regression to simpler things, a call to nature, a desire to leave urbanity behind and revel into acqueous and ozonic notes that promised the much longed for escape.
The chypres that came out then were mostly fruitier, tamer, sweeter blends such as the fizzy fruit salad of Sophia Grojsman for Yves Saint Laurent's Yvresse (originally named Champagne) or the underrated Deci Dela by Nina Ricci in 1994.
It was clear by then that chypres had had their heyday and consumers were opting for different things, terming chypres old-fashioned and almost archaic.

Yet this esteemed category has not uttered its final word. As discussed previously in The New Contestants article, "modern" chypres are out to take revenge for their illustrious ancestors and although they are markedly different than them, they are still a hope that the zeitgeist is again changing, favouring heavier, richer, more mysterious scents that demand a wink in the eye and a steely shoulder to cry upon. Let's hope that a return to truer chypres is not far off.

NEXT POST: a perfume legend gets reviewed. Stay tuned!


pic of Mitsouko ad from the 1960s originally uploaded on mua, pic of Diorella and Miss Dior ad from psine.net

Suck it, you bitch!

Regular Perfume Shriners will be a little shocked by this undoubtedly vulgar display of bold title and accompanying advertising image, but not really surprised as they have come to expect some scathing commentary on fragrance advertising on numerous occassions in the past, recent and not so recent (Click here for part1, part2, part3, part4, part5).
So the news is mr.Ford is issuing a masculine sidekick to his Black Orchid for women scent this season called Tom Ford for Men and the advertising comprises the image above.

I know, I know...It is no secret that mr.Ford has been playing the "sex sells" card again. This is the only adage he has been exploiting for quite some time now. In fact as long as I can remember his pretty mug entering my consciousness. Mr.Ford had been exploiting a subtler aproach while at Yves Saint Laurent, although one would be hard pressed not to admit that it somehow clashed with the extraordinarily chic facade of the venerable house, a fact that brought him into direct confrontation with mr. Saint Laurent himself (the latter with genuine Gallic nonchalance selling his House and retiring, thus admiting there is little chic in today's designing world).

And yet one cannot find major fault with the images of the advertisements for Yves Saint Laurent perfumes while mr.Ford was in charge. From the infamous print ad for the masculine M7 which depicts an uncircumsized hairy male in all his nude glory (click here for a pic) to the daring suggestion of a menage a trois in the Paris ads ~which for a nano-second made me look upon this fragrance with quite a different eye (shame on me!)~, his stint at Saint Laurent was characterised by an aesthetic that was bold, daring but rather tasteful albeit in a Hollywood-sort-of-way.

The porcelain nude skin of Sophie Dahl for Opium stands among the most memorable ones and this one for Nu eau de toilette featuring director Roman Polanski's wife, french actress Emmanuelle Seigner, from 2003 is among the ones I personally find quite alluring. Of course Emmanuelle Seigner does have the heavy features that denote some sort of vulgar carnality that helps make her compelling despite her lack of serious talent in such films as Bitter Moon and The Ninth Gate. Still, the entanglement of bodies in amorous embrace in the print ad captures my fancy and makes me dream a little.
Which is not what the new ad for Tom Ford for Men does. And not for prudish reasons either.

Amorous couples in passionate embrace have always been at the heart of perfume advertising, since seduction we are led to believe is at the core of perfume wearing. Of course this is not always so and perfume lovers who appreciate perfume as an art form would have serious disagreement with this; however from a mass market point of view ~which marketeers aim at in the first place anyway~ this is true. Dolce & Gabanna accomplished this admirably in a series of advertising images that encompass both taste and passion and of which the accompanying image is my personal favourite.

It seems to me that mr.Ford has taken the place of sexual provocateur that Calvin Klein used to be in the 1980s, although with a much more agressive stance and ~dare I say it?~ less modesty and self-constraint. The above might seem ironic for someone who built a reputation for racy ads such as this one for his scent Obsession in 1988.
Simply put, the current ad for Tom Ford for Men lacks taste. But what is even more interesting is that it also lacks sexiness. That elusive quality that an image which possesses it makes you look, look away and then look again with renewed interest, much like a really intriguing woman on the street would have you double-checking instead of ogling at her openly displayed attributes. The supposedly orgasmic O of the red lips as a signal of availability, the distorted shape of the breasts with the talons painted in red holding them tight for a titty-fuck, the dominance of male over female in a position that reminds one of a porn flick: all these things debase the previous aesthetic of Ford efforts into the realm of the basest shock value attempts at capturing the interest of people by getting banned from major magazines. And this is coming from someone who wouldn't venture into what he is showing everyone else, due to his own sexual preferences. So, is this choice a deliberate attempt at a new form of exclusivity? In accordance to his Private Line of perfumes which supposesdly target a more daring audience? This is something for mr.Ford to answer and we can only speculate. I am trembling at the thought of what he might conceive next!

For the purpose of aimless exercise and because there is such a thing as collective memory, let's witness some sexy advertsing images that do not usually get mentioned. The following two are for the classic scent Ma Griffe(=my talon/my signature),

proving that older advertsing isn't necessarily less sexy or daring and the other one is from Lacoste pour homme which depicts a fetching specimen with a Y chromosome aimed at the discerning women that account for more than 70% of the sales of men's scents anyway.

But I guess mr.Ford missed that little factoid. On the other hand, as he is indeed a brilliant marketeer (as attested by his success so far) he might be privy to some information of greater magnitude, so I am keeping my mouth shut on more comments for now. Which is more than I can say for the woman in the ad!

Last but not least, he could have gone for the highly camp effect which would have earned him humorous brownie points, such as this one for Centaur Cologne. There, that's so much better!

Pics courtesy of wwd, okadi, imagesdesparfums and psine.net