Serge Lutens La Fille de Berlin: fragrance review

Much as Serge has always dwelled in the aesthetes of the 19th century, if there is one art movement of the 20th century which would reflect his innermost demons that would be German expressionism; the intensity of the play of light & shadow on the silver screen is a metaphor for the battle of good and evil. La Fille de Berlin, cool, powdery rose spiked with spices, and the latest Lutens fragrance in the canon, reflects the struggle of a soft feminine flower with the naughtiness of animalic winks; the two faces of Eve, which had fully prepared me to expect a Metropolis-rising Lang vision, real and artificial blurring. But I soon found out that Serge was influenced by Josef von Sternberg and his classic Der blaue Engel instead, not strictly in the genre but smack-down in the midst of it in 1930.

artwork by Alexey Kurbatov via artonfix.com

 

She's a rose with thorns, don't mess with her.
She's a girl who goes to extremes.
When she can, she soothes; and when she wants ... !
 Her fragrance lifts you higher, she rocks and shocks.
 ~Serge Lutens

German Expressionism never left us, really. The angular, shadowed architectural specimens encountered in places like New York City, reflected in the fantastical Gotham of the Batman series, and the numerous homages to emblematic leitmotifs of the movement, such as in the films of Burton, Proyas and -to a lesser degree- Allen, merely prove that the juxtaposition of light & shadow (a more schematic carry-over from the chiaroscuro of the Masters) is as relevant today as it ever was. After all, humans are a mix of the two, aren't they? More apropos, Serge Lutens might be making a cultural commentary of our times, right in the heart of the melting pot that is modern Europe: much as Siegfried Kracauer's study "From Caligari to Hitler" examines the trajectory from this strained, anguished cinema images of the Weimar Republik to Nazi Germany, today's world in crisis with the darkness prevailing in fashion & design might be a reflective prologue to an even darker, more sinister era. Respectable professors turning into ridiculed and despaired madmen, the light of the blond hair of Siegfried eclipsed.
Let's hope not, but it's a poignant and potent omen nevertheless.

The metallic opening in La Fille de Berlin fragrance predisposes for the treatment withheld for rose in Rive Gauche by Yves Saint Laurent; chilling and distant, as if hailing from the tundra. But give it a few minutes in the warmth of a Blue Angel's skin, hot off the beckoning performance on the stage, and it turns into the softest, velvety rose with a cardamom impression and the tartness of a hint of raspberry. But even warmer things hide in the background with an intimate and dirty musk and civet allusion (so very familiar in the Lutens opus) surfacing to wrap things in plush and sex.

Those who have found Sa Majeste la Rose too green-fruity for their tastes and his Rose de Nuit marvelously creuscular but too elusive, would find a good ally in La Fille de Berlin. I find it more feminine than shared, but if like Serge himself, oh gentle man you're of the "perfume is a celebration" frame of mind, you might want to try it out for yourself.

Ramon Monegal Impossible Iris: fragrance review

Impossible Iris is like those beautiful raven-haired girls with big, sincere eyes that seem to engulf you and creamy, gorgeous skin that shines with the sheen of mother-of-pearl (like Liv Tyler or Anne Hathaway to bring modern examples); there's both a wholesome appeal (in the sense of "non-plastic") and a retro elegance to it all (in the sense their beauty ideal defies tanned, scrubbed, peroxided "nowness").

Iris can be like that, when excellent, with the added artistic bonus of a delectable melancholia that negates all the "shiny happy people" silliness that is pack and parcel of the "plastic" and "nowness" mantra. But iris can also be a fragrance note that can render itself rather too prissy and difficult for its own good; too many times it can be too starchy and earthy-raw (smelling like boiled carrots or turnips) or it can become too dusty or too creepy cold like the tomb (and there's no better reference than the chilly Iris Silver Mist by Lutens if you're after that sort of effect). Perhaps this is why the easiest, most popular iris on the market is Infusion d'Iris by Prada, a smashing best-seller and a modern classic; no guesswork there, the fragrance isn't an iris per se as the name would suggest, it's a sweet woody incense built on benzoin! Other times iris can be tilted into violet-heavy territory (with whom iris shares ionones, molecules with a powdery, dirt/earth feel) and land into Parfums Lingerie, a totally different sort of aesthetic effect, makeup reminiscent rather than upturned garden dirt.

Personally, I like irises, especially woody ones, such as Bois d'Iris by The Different Company and the stupendous Chanel No.19, so testing Impossible Iris wasn't a challenge by any means. Still, it exceeded expectations and has found itself firmly in my perfume rotation which is something when you take into account the jadedness of a seasoned collector.

Ramón Monegal went neither way between chilly or earthy for Impossible Iris, opting for an iris fragrance that is recognizably iris, yet projects with a delicate, mimosa-laced/heather hint of sweetness under the metallic opening; clean, elegant, slightly soapy fresh and very appealing! It's an iris to put you in a good mood, for a change, with subtle floralcy and woodiness in equal measure, if that was possible, with all the prerequisites to make you fall in love with it just as easily as imagining Iris as a girl's name. It stands as the perfect metallic/woody iris to encapsulate and recapitulate all we have come to expect from a prime iris fragrance; there is the delicate, shy beginning with the cool touch, then comes the touch of wooly mimosa with its hint of warmth to smile into the proceedings, while the quiet, bookish woody tonality of the aftermath with its pencil shavings nuance is enough to consolidate it among the richer in nuance irises.

Ramón Monegal has that rare talent: he has taken "difficult" notes (iris, leather as in Mon Cuir, patchouli, as in Mon Patchouly) and rendered editions that transcend the rougher aspects into smoothing them into compliance, making them melt with pleasure under the sprayer and onto the skin...
Gaia, The Non Blonde, found it more floral in the beginning than I did, but we both loved it all the same.

I was impressed with the sillage (it's a perceptible iris that will get you comments, the positive kind) and with its tenacity and I find that though delicate and graceful, it can also be worn by men easily, thanks to its woody background and its slight tinge of fruitiness that adds just enough tart elements in the formula.


Notes for Impossible Iris by Ramon Monegal: Italian iris, Egyptian cassiopiae, framboise, ylang-ylang, Egyptian jasmine, Virginia cedarwood

Impossible Iris is available as Eau de Parfum in a beautiful inkwell bottle of 50ml at Luckyscent.

picture of Liv Tyler via rsmccain.blogspot.com

Blood Concept Fragrances: For the Vampire in you

I never knew that Dracula was so eloquent in his particular obsession, but apparently he must be: "The human body is totally pervaded by a liquid vital rush that brings us what we are most fond of: Life. Filled with legends and meanings‚ blood is soaked with mystery, fascination and respect: it’s the most tested and studied part of the human body. Hiding the multitude of secrets that reveals our inner and unique way of being. BLOOD Concept is a ceremony devoted to the pulse of life and its visceral boost. It is actually the river of life." Makes your blood curdle, doesn't it; but no, the author isn't Prince Vlad Tepes himself or any of the vampires in the Twilight sage by Stephanie Meyers. It's the ad copy of a new Italian niche fragrance line. Figures.

The concept for Blood fragrances belongs to Giovanni Castelli, a fashion designer and the co-founder of the brand Acqua di Stresa, and Antonio Zuddas, an artist who works in advertising as a copywriter and photographer. They developed the fragrances in collaboration with Apf France in Grasse and the graphics were done by Fabrizio Piras and Giuseppe Porcelli. The concept follows the historical progression of blood type groups through evolution, from the oldest, O, to the newest AB. The scents were officially introduced to the public in Excence exhibition in Milan on March 31st.

Blood Concept fragrances are a brilliant exercise in marketese, as they take as a springboard one of the most influential concepts: that fragrance should suit the wearer. In a much more primeval way this time, not focusing on skin type, hair colour or preferences and associations, but deep within one's blood. Within one's blood group, more like it, as it would be impossible to account for every nuance, like any good microbiologist worth his/her salt would know.


The sample pack came in a scratch & sniff little pocketbook, full of cards with each blood type on the front, scratching surface which releases microcapsules of scent when you drag your nail fingers on it, and the fragrance notes and type of scent (along with a sex demarcation which is unisex, i.e. shared between the sexes) on the back of the cards. The pack reads Compatibility Test. I mean, geez, you have to give it to them! It's as if the scents fuse into your organism and perform some microcosmos ritual. They're careful to say nevertheless that you can test them all and choose whatever speaks to you, regardless of your actual blood type. Phew...I was worried a bit there for a moment!

Perfume O is a unisex leather fragrance, composed of thyme, raspberry, cyperus esculentus, rose hips, leather, birch, cedar wood, and metallic notes.

Perfume A is a unisex aromatic fragrance which includes notes of green garden, tomato leaves, basil, star anise and metallic notes.

Perfume B is a unisex woody spicy composition with red apple and black cherry in the top, artemisia, pepper, pomegranate and black tea in the heart; patchouli, tick wood and metallic notes in the base.

Perfume AB is a unisex mineral composition with aldehydes, aluminium and slate in the top, pebble and aqua in the heart, cedar wood and metallic notes in the base.


The mention of metallic notes isn't that creepy actually (i.e.as in blood, metallic due to iron content). Think of it more in the lines of popular aromachemicals du jour like Ambrox and Iso E Super, which incidentally give a uniform woody aspect as well (to almost each and every one of them, to my nose).
I'm not sure if the method of scratch & sniff cards gives an accurate enough imprint of the fragrances; I'm hypothesizing that it's a bit like judging based on scent strips on magazines. They give you a general idea, but you really have to test the juice on skin to make a definite decision. Based on those, nevertheless, I get the feeling that these are fragrances composed around the same more or less principles with minor nuances: they're niche scents, resolutely unisex in their carriage, aimed at people inquisitive to smell something not immediately identifiable (the given notes of even familiar ingredients such as vanilla, apple or basil don't proclaim their presence as such) and they're not aimed to cajole or seduce under any circumstances.

If pressed I'd say that Perfume B is the one I leaned to, it feels less clinical thanks to its spicy bouquet; a bit as if Jean Claude Ellena was on acid, composing at some remote mountain top cabin made of teak wood. Perfume A is also rather interesting, full as it is of the very green smell of tomato stems, a very agreeable aroma. A bit of an historical paradox though, considering solanum lycopersicum's trajectory in time. The rest didn't grab me; maybe I had high expectations from Perfume O as it poses as a leather. It's rather a woody suede and I think we've seen our share of those. Perfume AB seems to contain that weird molecule that is also present in Etat Libre d'Orange Secretions Magnifiques, and resembles most closely what Chandler Burr had referred to as "sink cleanser spilled on an aluminum countertop" (speaking of dihydromyrcenol); think crazied Godzilla lime froth and you're there.

All Blood Concept fragrances are available in dropper bottles of 40 ml; a little bit medicinal and at the same time decadently 19th century vampiric as well.

Photo of Udo Kier in The Blood of Dracula (1974). All other pics by Elena Vosnaki.

Disclosure: I was sent the sample pack by the manufacturer.

Etat Libre d'Orange Secretions Magnifiques: fragrance review

I'm in the attic of an old video store downtown. Stuffy and with the permeating smell of hot, new plastic from the inner jackets of DVDs with questionable material. The seedy sales assistant is dressed and "groomed" like Ian Lamont in the disastrous remake of The Jackal, only he utterly lacks any charm Jack Black naturally possesses. He's oggling female customers with a roving eye, but it is actually the shy, low-browed "help" with the upstraight collar that is really a sexual offender. That attic smells of dried up semen and surreptitious impositions on unwilling females, of threat and defilement, of a sense of panic where your trachea closes as if you can't breath and no voice can come out...no matter how many primary colours change hues beneath your shut eyelids.

I'm in the operating theatre of a hospital, lying supine and cold. The ceiling above me has the listless greyish white of ashes in a crematorium and I feel like I should belong in one. Lochia is oozing off me, the burden of having my guts torn out, hatched job of 20 weeks when the air was still pregnant with hope. There are no salty tears falling off to the edge of the ears making the familiar plonk sound, only the buzz of the fluorescent lights atop. Nothing moves save the mops across the corridors spreading another layer of bleach on the floors.

I'm in a small African camp where Action Aid is volunteering. A teenage mother of no more than 13 is sitting back up the wall of a thatched cottage, as the weather is taking a turn for the damper, her baby infested by a thousand flies, in the same position as it last had grabbed her breast in an attempt to draw life-sustaining liquid. Liquid which trickles down still under her expresionless face, stale, and mixed with sweat and the scent of famine; whitish liquid on black skin, so agile, so puerile, you think you could take this mother and lull her to sleep herself.

Sécrétions Magnifiques rather amazingly smells like all of these places. I just don't want to be in those places...ever.

Definitely out of the Guy Robert perimeter of perfumery standards ("perfume should smell good") and into avant-garde in earnest, this is a fragrance that acts like Duchamp's Fountain (Urinal); it serves as a springboard for discussion more than an art piece to put and enjoy in someone's home. Smelling aquatic-metallic with an algae note and a lot like sweet floral notes and coconut blanched in bleach (featuring Azurone, a Givaudan trademarked "clean" note), with a spattering of spoiled condensed milk and pure bile in the mix as it "opens up", Sécrétions Magnifiques by État Libre d'Orange is a scent not to leave anyone indifferent and is both totally original and undoubtedly a technical feat (the demonic notes reverberate into eternity opening up with gusto). Supposedly it's trying to replicate scents of saliva, milk, blood and semen, these magnificent secretions for which humans are known (if you were hoping for Eau de Merveilles though, forget it) but there is absolutely no animal hint or human intimacy, rather a sterile Alien accord that is a study on every female fear.
Its perfumer, Antoine Lie, has been known for his work at Comme Des Garcons (888, Lime and Grapefruit from the Energy C series, Wonderwood as well as Daphne), as well as others in the État Libre line (Tom of Finland, Rien, Divin Enfant, Je Suis un Homme, Don't get me wrong baby). Sécrétions Magnifiques by État Libre d'Orange is available as Eau de Parfum. Its fame precedes this bête noire; approach with a sense of respect.

Notes given for Sécrétions Magnifiques:
Iode accord, adrenaline accord, blood accord, milk accord, iris, coconut, sandalwood and opoponax.

For a funnier take with less drama, watch Katie's review on Youtube.

pic originally uploaded on mua by mzterrim sent to me by email