Hermès Barénia launched in fall 2024, exploring the contours of the fruity neo-chypre, the first of its kind at Hermès, but within in-house perfumer Christine Nagel's beloved and familiar register. After all she (co)created For Her, Si Armani, and Miss Dior Chérie, icons of the genre, as well as Archives 69.
Official carded samples of Barénia flooded my desk during my research on it, testing on different days, with different weather conditions and different mindsets. In short, I rather like it and find it successful in what it sets out to do. That is, a refined leathery chypre in the modern mould. Let's face it, those are scarce in the designer field and only really surface now in the niche sector; and not to great advantage from a commercial point of view there either. The only exceptions I can think you could find at a major department store are Bottega Veneta, and Nomade by Chloé, and of the two, one is already discontinued.
So, yes, Barénia is a good pillar perfume for a collection that is set between mainstream designer and refined luxury, and you should try it out for yourselves as well before judging. The bottle is also delicious, with the emblematic collier de chien motif on the top of the glass, a design conceived in the 1940s with a playful edge.
In Barénia the earthy notes of patchouli are present as part of the chypre structure, with the extremely diffusive version of akigalawood, a material we tend to associate with Bisch, who overlays almost everything with it. Nagel is more bent on sclarene which adds a hot iron note in many of her creations, and a cooler quality.
However, the effect here is not only peppery and metallic-sort-of, but also tart on top, especially when trying it out on the skin rather than on the blotter, where the mineral, peppery and chypre aspects are more evident.
On the skin the top note resembles a middle ground between bergamot and grapefruit, the beloved chord of Jean Claude Ellena who worked it into a floral leather himself for Hermès in...Kelly Calèche! I suspect that just like Ellena was said to go to the leather vaults of the French brand in search of inspiration, and being met with the mimosa and rose tonalities of the tanned hides supple to the touch, Nagel was also inspired by this previous excursion. Galop is also heavily referenced, with its rosy softness and more interesting background. But the budget for creating must have been higher, considering the retail price. Still, Barénia is reminiscent of both fragrances, both Kelly Calèche and Galop. We can find nuggets of leathery Galop in Myrrhe Eglantine (a floral amber composition), and in Tutti Twilly d'Hermès (suede fruity floral).
Akigalawood, a love or hate molecule, is combined with oak wood, which adds depth to the whole, but polished into sweeter tones which rise to embrace it in the context of the fruity chypre. This woody base, combinging the moiré with the raw, exudes a suede-like leatheriness which recalls Galop without a doubt.
It's potent at this stage, it projects excellently from the blotter and from the skin to a lesser degree (try clothes to maximize the effect) and it lasts very well. It's also feminine in an assured woman way, but could also be borrowed by men with a penchant for sophisticated scents, wearing it with flair. A few floral touches (the so-called butterfly lily accord) round out the ensemble, giving a soft touch that further butters up the leather notes. I'd wear it with joy if gifted a bottle, though I admit Galop is superior.
All the colors of a bruise: black and blue, teal green edging out in purple, fading to rosy, ending in ochre yellow like ancient parchment.
The electrical buzz of arc-welding, fiery orange sparks filling out the skies, the rusty mine of the shipwreck. The air filled with a mineral, scorched feel. The plank-plank of cork wedges hitting the iron ore at the loading decks.
A leather cloth, all smeared with wax. The musty smell of the hold of an old ship. He had his hair loose and oily with sweat and ambery brilliantine. My hand aching from trying to hold tight onto the lower mast. I said "I'm hurt". He should have said, "honey, let me heal it", like Bruce. Only he never said it; not in so many words.
Petroleum by Histoires de Parfums is Gerald Ghislain's story on oudh, the prophylactic defensive rot on Aquillaria trees and its resinous, nutty, woody, complex scent. Infused with fizzy orange, musty patchouli and a prolonged furry, white musk aftertaste, lasting hours, purring after the roar, Petroleum is the gift of the earth in an unassuming bottle. This oudh étude surpasses many others, in a masterful cadenza of chromatic tonalities: from black and blue, teal green edging out in purple, fading to rosy, ending in ochre yellow like ancient parchment. The chromatics in a drop of "liquid gold", in an old bruise that still aches when pressed.
Hermès has gained the sense of olfactive consistency that Guerlain once had back in the day thanks to its head perfumer, Jean Claude Ellena. Their latest unisex, Voyage d'Hermès , is a recapitulation, a déjà vu and a voyage not only through the body of work of Jean Claude himself, but of the house of Hermès as an entity! It's as if Voyage is a passport into the world of Hermès: Small little snippets of numerous fragrances hide beneath a hazy cloud of a formula that must have been laborious to construct without falling apart. Yet what has Jean Claude succeeded in doing, at this point in his career, is creating his own syntax and his own vocabulary for communicating which translates as perfectly leggible and intermixable, even in snippets of conversation that all mingle together harmoniously.
In order to appreciate Voyage d'Hermèson whether it succeeds to convey the vision behind it, we need to access the perfumer's technique in rapport with the values dictated by a mass-marketed but still prestigious Hermès fragrance such as Voyage.
Starting by the latter, we're "stumbling" on the mega-success of Terre d'Hermès, a masculine which is -according to the month in question- the first or second best-selling fragrance in France and terribly popular throughout the world as well. Its mineral & airy interpretation of the Mediterranean coast-line, full of fresh breeze, the whisper of citrus groves from afar and vegetal waste rotting on the hard rock, is the transfiguration of an lived-in impression into a scent (aided by a generous helping of IsoE Super, a synthetic which turns the intriguing aromata into a legible abstraction). A new mainstream release would not want to disrupt the commercial success of Terre, but at the same time, it should bring in women too (sharing thus the desirable facets of Terre) and consolidate the past and future of the house into the consience of everyone. In many ways, it feels to me that Hermès was simplifying its historical codes into an Esperanto of signs for everyone. To that degree they have certainly succeeded.
Ellena himself communicated his aim in composing Voyage d'Hermès, not as the desire to create a figurative or programmatic ~to borrow a term from music~ fragrance "but to create abstract art. A play on paradoxes. Complementary elements. No, this perfume would not smell of a kind of wood, a flower, a particular raw material, but of the unknown in all its glory. To express its nuances and unexpected pairings. Familiar, surprising. Energy, comfort. Masculine, feminine. An infectious mixing of genres. A woody fresh, musky fragrance." Ellena's style (and so is Olivia Giacobetti's in a similar vein) is the quiet, yet subtly intricate music for a quartet, rather than the bustle of a Wagnerian symphony with brass horns and full percussion joining. This is an aesthetic choice, not the result of simplistic or unchallenging incompetence. Comparing ~say~ a traditional Guerlain or 1930s Patou to a modern Hermès composed by Ellena would therefore be a futile exercise in omphaloskepsis. One either likes one style or not, but that doesn't mean that the two are poised on the same plane of existence; they're actually poles apart. In that regard, Ellena in Voyage d'Hermès is reffarming his signature touch and on top of that creates something that cannot be pinpointed into anything familiar in nature; because there are plenty of familiar accents in the formula itself, as we'll see.
Voyage d'Hermès feels like a composition created on two tiers: The first movement is a flute, oboe and glockenspiel trio, namely the grapefruit-citrus chord he excells at (see Rose Ikebana, Un Jardin sur le Nil, Terre d'Hermès, even Cologne Bigarrade) with a touch of icy artemisia (see Angeliques sous la Pluie with their perfect gin & tonic bitterness) alongside the spicy suaveness of cardamom (diaphanous as in Un Jardin apres la Mousson, yet also a little sweaty as in Déclaration). To that musical line respond clarinets of other spices: some pepper, some ginger. On skin the spices are much more pronounced on the whole, with a small sub-facet (pungent, even a bit leathery) that personally reminds me of Eau d'Hermès. The second movement is constructed on a basso continuo (the Iso E Super, perceived by many as cedar, alongside an incredibly lasting cluster of musks) with a lightly underlining phrase by a viola, the floral note of hedione (or an analogous material) giving a nod to Dior's Eau Sauvage and an elegant amber-ambergris base recalling Eau de Merveilles. This second movement is most alike Poivre Samarkande from the Hermessences, with its overdose of Iso-E Super. Seeing as Poivre Samarkande is the uncontesatble best-seller in the Hermès boutique in Athens, Greece, ever since the line's introduction, it makes sense that Hermès wanted for a Voyage composition a formula that has already been OK-ed by a warm Mediterranean country: After all, the very term Voyage makes us unconsiously dream of vacations, doesn't it? The two Roudnitska homages (Eau d'Hermès and Eau Sauvage), on the other hand, are unifying two houses and two perfumers into one style uniquely its own.
This clarion call of style, ensured, affirmed, self-reliant, is the fragrance's moot point: It means that if you like previous Jean Claude Ellena fragrances, you will like Voyage d'Hermes. If you don't, there are very little chances that it will change your mind. It also means that if you have all the segmentated make-up-pieces in your perfume collection, you might not be tempted to sort out the Visa and buy the new fragrance. But seeing as this is a mainstream release meant for everyone, not just maniacal collectors, those people will be few and far between.
The bottle design is spectacular: pure Hermès, both classic, inspired by la petite maroquinairie ~and specifically the Evelyne coin purse~ but also subtly modern high-tech too, reminiscent of USB sticks to put in one's computer (formerly known as "travel sticks, because you took them along while travelling, is it any coincidence?) or of a shiny silvery iPod, blasting a daydreaming Debussy tune. The promotional video shows a bird flying towards a horse running in the sea, showing ice, desert and water: an analogy of the segments that the fragrance goes through as well.
Notes for Voyage d'Hermès: citron, bergamot, coriander, ginger, artemisia, cardamom, black pepper, tea, birch, white musk, amber and cedar.
Available in 35ml, 100ml & 150ml bottles, available at major department stores carrying Hermès. For those registered on the mailing list of Hermès, please use this link to see the promotional video.
Music: "Divertimento for Flute, Oboe and Clarinet" by Malcolm Arnold with Meera Gudipati, flute; Steven Robles, oboe; and James Calix, clarinet. Print by Nhyen Phan Chanh (1932). Hermes official Voyage d'Hermes ad.
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Akigalawood, a love or hate molecule, is combined with oak wood, which adds depth to the whole, but polished into sweeter tones which rise to embrace it in the context of the fruity chypre. This woody base, combinging the moiré with the raw, exudes a suede-like leatheriness which recalls Galop without a doubt. 
