Dame Perfumery New Musk Oil: fragrance review

There are as many types of musk as there are flowers in the field. Musk has diverged from a single ingredient to a pleiad of genres within a scent group. Although most divide musks roughly into either the "clean" or "dirty" camp, depending on whether they replicate respectively laundry detergent ingredients or the nether region gland secretions of a small animal, it is possible to profit of both worlds.

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New Musk Oil belongs to the first camp, yet, without embracing any characteristic of the second, it manages to eschew the clinical sterility that some of its compatriots share. It's clean to the degree that a freshly washed apricot fruit is clean enough to eat. But that does not detract from the fact that it's a succulent, living thing in the palm of your hand, and that you can feel the palpitations of your own heart settle down as you consume it in abandoned pleasure. New Musk Oil is like that; it possesses an unusual fruity quality about it, under the primness of the more standard lily of the valley that's par for the course within this genre of clean musky scents, which recalls an apricot flavor. In fact I'd venture that it shares DNA with another lightly apricot-tinged fragrance in the line, namely Soliflore Osmanthus (osmanthus is a tree with small apricot-smelling blossoms). Makes sense.

Considering that the sensuous application of an oil to one's skin uses touch as the cornerstone of predisposing for the "my skin but better" effect, and that New Musc Oil shares the exact same formula with the alcohol-based New Musk Man cologne, I'd say that with this pretty and lasting oil from Dame Perfumery Scottsdale has won the hearts of women. Not only in the capacity of being attracted to the man who wears the scent, but in the capacity of claiming the oil as their very own.

Like the best out there it looks wholesome but holds a treasure of nuance inside. 

Sarah Jessica Parker Lovely: fragrance review

Few fragrances boast their very definition in their name, unless they're programmatic, but so few celebrity scents are anyway. Lovely is really lovely and it earns brownie points for being launched by a celebrity that actually gives a darn about fragrance instead of seeing it as a personal brand: the perfume-obsessed Sarah Jessica Parker.

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Inspired by her love for mixing high-school staple Bonne Belle Skin Musk and an Egyptian-style musk oil bought from street vendors (rumor has it that it's the same that the late Carolyn Bessete Kennedy wore) with a "smoky" incense-patchouli-woods from Japanese avant-garde brand Comme des Garcons (Avignon actually), Jessica Parker didn't really get her way in terms of Lovely imposing a challenging concept in actual market terms. That's if we are to go by Chandler Burr's account, who chronicled the story of the creation in the book "The Perfect Scent".

Yet she managed to get the perfect "go anywhere" woody floral musk scent, with a fine trail of lavender (and a hint of rose?) mid-evolution, that can't help but put that expression on your face when both lips and crow's feet lines smile into "ah, loooovely!"

Serge Lutens A La Nuit: fragrance review and musings

Dedicated to the night and voluptuous, feminine women everywhere, A la Nuit by Serge Lutens is probably the most life-like rendition of night-blooming jasmine in all of perfumery. The narcotic, star-petalled flower hypnotizes all who come into contact with it on a warm summer's evening, when the air is filled with promise of romance and sensual abandon. Heady, sweet, laced with honeyed and resinous notes that weave their own web of seduction, A la Nuit employs several different varieties of jasmine: Moroccan, Egyptian and Indian. Surrendering yourself to its temptation is akin to reaching erotic zenith...

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Jasmine is plentiful in southern Europe and northern Africa from where Lutens was inspired; lush, narcotic, dense with clotted cream at night-time, making the heart ache with its sweetness, fresh and bubble-gum worthy with green dewiness in the mornings. But while we, perfume lovers, like to mock and taunt each other about the fecal reminiscent particulars in it, specifically the combination of moth-balls indole and peachy-creamy lactones, plus many other wonderful and weird chemical additions that talk to our sensitive human hormones, hearing it being invoked by your beloved in an intimate setting can turn into unsettling quickly. How stimulating is the invocation of #2 in the bedroom? Not particularly for most, I'd wager. Let this be a lesson to test this glorious specimen of true jasmine first, before plunging headlong into it.

Created in 2000. Fragrance Family: Floral Oriental 
Perfumer: Chris Sheldrake 
Fragrance Notes A La Nuit by Serge Lutens: jasmine, grenadine, beeswax, musk and benzoin. 

Viktoria Minya Hedonist Cassis: fragrance review

The fallen berries that get smashed and mushed underfoot reflect something of the realization of so much waste around us that even useful, succulent things fall to their unintentional demise through a drive that obeys cosmic rules; gravity, fall, squish. Hedonist Cassis by young but talented perfumer Viktoria Minya is certainly not wasteful, bring the tang of blackcurrant and grapefruit into the core chord of Hedonist, her original creation, making for an intense experience that recalls gathering berries in the countryside waiting for mr.Fox.

hello mr.fox on flickr, via Pinterest

Viktoria Minya has indulged her original composition with a cluster of variations, each highlighting a separate ingredient, Iris, Rose, and Cassis. The latest, Hedonist Cassis, possibly comes in the most attractive bottle, purple-ish with a touch of the late Prince, if you will.

Berry fragrances probably owe their heritage to the cult best-seller by L'Artisan Parfumeur, the original "berry" which spawned a hundred offspring over the decades since its inception.
The composition here however reminds me much more of the appeal of Yves Saint Laurent In Love Again (a combo of grapefruit and blackcurrant) by perfumer Jean Claude Ellena and doesn't fail to make me smile. The rose note is reminiscent of the chord in L'Ombre dans l'Eau by Diptyque; if like me you tend to shy away from overly prim, Jane Austen roses, and appreciate instead the tang that blackcurrants give to the above mentioned Diptyque fragrance, then Hedonist Cassis is sure to hit you with the epiphany of "oh, there's rose in it". Yes, but oh so delicious.

I am reminded of inconsequential things that have to do with late summer: the droning sound of the bees, the lazy contours of the calamus in the distance, the gentle softening of the sky as dusk sets in lilac hues; refreshing juice full of sour and sweet citruses served on the balcony and the canopy shading the rays while we're reading L'Education Sentimentale, the heroes leaping off the page in their game of social graces, platonic loves and carnal disgraces; freckles slowly forming on a long hellenic nose and lashes prettily faning on a smooth cheek, the comfortable silence of well trodden territory.

Extraordinary lasting power in Heodnist Cassis is an added bonus. For those of you who love a tart synthesis with great balance between sweet and sour and a stonking beat of lasting musky-wood this is your fruity floral pick for summer wear.

Fragrance Notes for Viktoria Minya Hedonist Cassis:
Top notes are black currant, grapefruit and rhubarb;
middle notes are bulgarian rose, grass and cassis;
base notes are cedar and musk.

Anya's Garden Enticing: fragrance review & giveaway

"The Tuberose, with her silvery light,
That Is in the gardens of Malay
Is called the mistress of the night,
So like a bride, scented and bright,
She comes out when the sun’s away.

Then, by a secret virtue, these grateful odours
will add an inexpressible charm to your enjoyment;
but if, regardless of the precepts of moderation,
you will approach too near, this divine
flower will then be but a dangerous enchantress,
which will pour into your bosom a deadly poison,
Thus the love which descends from heaven purities
and exalts the delights of a chaste passion ; but
that which springs from the earth proves the bane
and the destruction of imprudent youth."
[source]

The seduction of Polianthes tuberosa starts in the mind, even if the consummation lies on a warm bed. Destabilizing one's mind, giving impure thoughts, thoughts of opiate intoxication, of abandoning one's self to pleasures of a forbidden nature, in the words of one writer "a voluptuous intoxication from which one does not easily become liberated".

Literally "flower of the city" (from the Greek πόλις/polis for city and  άνθος/anthos for flower), tuberose has been linked with a demi-mondaine existence in the big cities of Western Europe, where courtesans used it alongside other "crass" scents, such as musk and ambergris, to infiltrate themselves unto the lives of their lovers. The Victorian abstinence from using perfume on the body itself, unless it was in the form of a lightly scented product (hair pomade, mouth rinse, linen scent and the like), made the use of intimate forms of perfume even more daring by those deviating outwards of the accepted path of manners. Perfumer Anya McCoy of Anya's Garden chose wisely when she paired the dynamo of tuberose with animalic perfume notes (among them the human-meets-herbaceous scent of clary sage, beeswax and musk tincture), thus allying the two faces of Janus into a composite that is as narcotic as a forbidden substance, as dark as the night and as addictive as good chocolate. The lady is not quite covered, rather surreptitiously revealing, and quite old-fashioned in her naturalness; then again fashions are cyclical and animalic florals are off for a revival at the moment.

When I asked Anya about the process of creation she replied: "I used a combo of purchased absolute and extrait (pure absolute) made from pomade that I made. The pomade was washed with alcohol for two weeks, chilled, filtered. Very old school." Smelling the finished product I can vouch for the old school moniker myself; in the very best possible sense, that is!

Although the scent launched last summer, it took me a while to discover its many facets and to enjoy it on the warmer days of spring that we've been having. The natural warmth of the climate ramps up the carnal aspects to the max and it hangs into the humid air with the insistence of a lover always hungry for more. Maybe this is the deep, dangerous, complicit floral for summer to come.

Ingredients: Organic Sugar Cane Alcohol, Tuberose Absolute, Scented Alcohol extracted from Anya’s handmade Tuberose Enfleurage Pomade, Butter CO2, Opoponax Absolute, Clary Sage essential oil, Terpene Acetate Isolate ex. Cardamom, Beeswax Absolute and Anya’s handmade Beeswax Tincture, Patchouli essential oil, Mushroom Absolute, Siberian Musk Tincture.

Enticing is available in both pure perfume form as a 4ml mini, and as an Eau de Parfum 15ml spray from Anya’s Garden Perfumes store available here.

For our readers Anya McCoy has generously offered a FREE 4ml extrait de parfum of Enticing sent anywhere within the USA. All you have to do is leave a comment under the review and I will draw a winner after the weekend.

Related reading on Perfume Shrine:

Anya's Garden Perfume Reviews 

Animalic & "Skanky" Perfumes

Musk: natural Tonquin musk and synthetics

The historic Animalis base

Parfums Fourrure (so called "fur perfumes")

Acqua di Parma Colonia Ambra: fragrance review & draw

Tucked among the crags of western Portofino Promontory is the town of Camogli, which the novelist Charles Dickens once declared "the saltiest, roughest, most piratical little place. " Its sea dog mercenaries were sought after to rival the fleet of the ally city state Genoa. Ambergris, that adventure in a bottle for armchair mariners, is at the very core of inspiration for Colonia Ambra by Acqua di Parma, which I discovered this year and immediately liked.

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That's not coincidental, as ambergris, the prized animal exudation from sperm whales for perfume, is a scent I could (and do) wear neat on my skin in alcohol tincture. Dedicated to a gentleman who loves to travel and explore new cultures, Colonia Ambra is part of the "ingredients themed editions" of the classic Colonia by Acqua di Parma (The other two editions include Colonia Leather and Colonia Oud, also good).

The mention of the other editions is not without merit; if you like Colonia Oud, this edition, Colonia Ambra, is like the oud base has been stripped off but the smoky woody goodness remains, layered rich and thick and nuzzling on the skin. The cypriol addition makes its presence known (as does patchouli) and the warm materials shift the direction into a woody oriental, milder and softer than Colonia Oud. I could very well wear this frequently; it's refined and lasting without elbowing anyone out of the way, yet it is no wallflower either.

Although the skeleton for the classic Colonia is one of stark freshness, the citrus fruits in Colonia Ambra have purposefully lost their sparkle in order to solely render a "lift" to the warm, musky aura of ambergris, musk and patchouli which are at the very nucleus of this composition. One can't really describe the notes one by one, as the blend is relatively tight and the overall effect is one much more refined than the allusion to Camogli would suggest.

Fans of amber and vanilla scents in men's fragrances should explore Colonia Ambra. This is marketed to men, but I find that it can be shared by women perfectly, like boyfriend jeans or a nice velvet jacket for evenings over one's chiffon top to keep the chill out.
The projection and sillage are moderate, but the staying power is very satisfying given the posh price.

Fragrance Notes for Colonia Ambra by Acqua di Parma:
Top Notes: Orange, bergamot, petit grain
Heart Notes: Rose accord, cypriol, virginia cedarwood, patchouli
Base Notes: Ambergris, sandalwood, cistus labdanum, vanilla, musk

This is what Acqua di Parma says about the scent of Colonia Ambra:

"An original, elegant fragrance inspired by the distinctive combination of two olfactory themes that are bursting with personality - the citrus notes of Colonia blend with deep sensuality of Ambergris, an ancient essence that is extremely rare and precious. Its characteristic scent is owed by the effect of the ocean and the wind, shaping and caressing this precious substance for many years before casting it ashore on the world’s beaches. The zesty citrus top notes of orange and bergamot evolves into a warm heart with cedar wood, rose and patchouli. Sublimated by the perfect harmony of Ambergris with sandalwood, warmed by the soft accents of vanilla, this new Eau de Cologne Concentrée reveals its unique personality in base notes of inimitable elegance and refinement."

This edition of Colonia Ambra comes as a natural spray of Eau de Cologne Concentrée, encased in a beautiful luxurious fabric-covered box, available in a 100ml or 180ml size.

One lucky reader will receive a 5ml vial by leaving a comment below this post, stating their views on fragrances inspired by animal essences. Draw is international and ends Wednesday 23rd midnight. 

Related reading on PerfumeShrine:
Ambergris: Definition and Musings on "Whale Vomit" (?) 
Perfumes with Ambergris, the mysterious "grey amber" note
Acqua di Parma: fragrance reviews & news
Frequent Perfumery Questions on Perfume Shrine
Cypriol/Nagarmotha: Smokiness of Wood

Guerlain Carmen, Le Bolshoi: new fragrance

Guerlain has been making fragrance exclusives honoring the famous Bolshoi ballet for the Russian market for some time now. With three editions under their belt, this year's exclusive is named Carmen, Le Bolshoi and comes in this fabulously provocative bottle in red.

The first fragrance Le Bolshoï appeared in 2011 and was timed to celebrate the reconstruction of a historic building of the Bolshoi Theater. A year later, there was a bottle La Traviata, Le Bolshoï with scarlet cameo. The smoky juice inside commemorated the opera by Giuseppe Verdi with notes of orange, bergamot and petit-grain. In 2014, the Bolshoï Theater performed the hallmark of Russian ballet , Tchaikovsky's"Swan Lake." Black Swan Le Bolshoï was the offering Guerlain created with perfumer Thierry Wasser to celebrate it with their loyal Russian customers.

This season for the 240th Bolshoi Theater jubilee, 240th  world famous "Carmen"by George Bizet is the opus in question. It was first staged in 1875 in Paris and in 2015 celebrates its 140th anniversary. Thierry Wasser created a limited edition fragrance for the Russian market, Carmen Le Bolshoï.

For Carmen,Le Bolshoï the formula includes fragrance notes of jasmine, cedar, citrus, red berries and musk. Bright and bold according to Guerlain as is Carmen. On October 1st  it will appear in TSUM and DLT and on December 1st  in select Guerlain corners. The retail price of Carmen Le Bolshoï is set at 22 000 rubles.

EDIT TO ADD: Recent reportage and testing suggests that Carmen Le Bolshoi is a re-edition of the original Vetiver pour Elle by Jean Paul Gaultier from 2004.

pic & availability info via Vogue.ru

Acqua di Parma Acqua Nobile Rosa: fragrance review & giveaway

It's pink! 

This exclamation can be taken two distinct ways. It either beckons lovers of all stuff girly

or it scares hardcore perfumephiles with their anticipated suspicion hardened through years of insipid fruity florals that would be better used as shampoo. Thankfully Acqua Nobile Rosa isn't either too fluff, nor a fruity floral. It's a pure, crystalline, airy wisp of a scent, as ethereal as wind chimes heard through an early morning breeze.

With Acqua di Parma issuing a newer interpretation of their previous Rosa Nobile in their Acqua Nobile line of scents one might expect a rehashing of the same formula, only turned lighter. But in fact Acqua Nobile Rosa is a new composition, certainly more ethereal, yet managing to differentiate itself enough to warrant testing both.

Rosa Nobile is a cool and straight-up rose petals fragrance, a ballet slipper of a smell rather than an exuberant Nahema (Guerlain) red Jimmy Choo pump or a moiré slingback in the fruity green style of Sa Majeste la Rose (Serge Lutens). It's not retro, but it's not bastardized either, the way some of my favorite rose fragrances are, i.e. sprinkled with loukhoum rosewater (Mohur extrait), dense with spice and patchouli (Aromatics Elixir, Voleur de Roses) or plain resinous goddess-like (Caron's Parfum Sacre). It's never easy making a true rose scent, so Rosa Nobile is not unworthy of mentioning as a relative success, especially given how jammy the pure absolute of rose can smell.

Acqua Nobile Rosa on the other hand is more like the air floating above a rose bush, with a perceptible citrus and blackcurrant tinge, tart and a little bit tangy. Blackcurrant buds have an illustrious and infamous history in perfumery, what with them being used to great aplomb in First by Van Cleef & Arpels (where they open the scene to the animalic smelling background beneath the posh French style perfume) and their ammoniac feel reminiscent of a kitty cat. 

But do not fear. It's pink. How wrong could it go? 

The airy, electrical buzzing (i.e. freesia) but prolonged -thanks to large musk molecules- drydown is very soft, lightly powdery (a hint of makeup aroma), lightly sweet and the rose is retained throughout; it's as if one is catching the whiff of a rose garden next door rather than hiding one's nose amidst the bushes. I'm OK with that.

Capturing the serene beauty of a stroll in an Italian rose garden, Acqua Nobile Rosa Eau de Toilette is a radiant fragrance for women. This sparkling Eau de Toilette focuses on the lighter, brighter aspects of the rose garden with notes of mandarin, blackcurrant, rose and ambergris. A veritable symphony of enchanting accords capturing both the vibrant and ethereal facets of the Italian Centifolia Rose, famed for its incomparable beauty. 

Fragrance notes for Acqua Nobile Rosa by Acqua di Parma:

Top: Bergamot, Mandarin, Blackcurrant

Heart: Damask rose, Centifolia rose, Cyclamen, Freesia

Base: Ambergris, Musk

Related reading on Perfume Shrine:

Top Rose Scented Fragrances & Products

Everything's coming up roses: how rose is on trend again

My Troubles with Rose & Overcoming Them One Step at a Time

I have a full bottle of this from which a 5ml decant has been taken for a lucky reader. 
Please enter a comment below this post to enter. Draw is open internationally and closes on Sunday 5th midnight. 

In the interests of full disclosure I got this through a PR promo. 

Clinique Aromatics in White: fragrance review

It's easy to get immersed in the White Bear Problem while reading Clinique's laconic message for their newer fragrance Aromatics in White.

 Pretty. Intense.

 What does your mind "read"? Pretty intense, right?

As Dostoevsky wrote in 1863, "Try to pose for yourself this task: not to think of a polar bear, and you will see that the cursed thing will come to mind every minute."

In a way Aromatics in White is both things; both at once, but not one stressing itself upon the other.
It's a quite decent and very contemporary modernization of what has been the Great Dragon of the Clinique stable of thoroughbreds, Aromatics Elixir. The company is of course owned by the Lauder Group and the same IFF perfumers, like the legendary Bernand Chant have worked for both outfits ~the archetype is his handiwork, as is Aramis for men -another Lauder offshoot-, Lauder's own Azuree perfume and Alliage.


The classic Aromatics Elixir, is the scent that half of Athens, Greece, smells of. (The other half smells of car exhaust, lush jasmine vines, roasted coffee and charcoal smoke from diners. It'd make a pretty intense and pretty great perfume; indie perfumers take note!) Its commercial success is uncanny, for decades on end; it can't be just a generational thing, but something much more ingrained in the country and its cultural "chypre" heritage. After all history is a hard subject to shoot down...

Hardcore chypres are nothing if not head-strong, and thus the original is much derided, polarizing its audience; from mad love to "old lady" slurs of disgust, "a dream to some, a nightmare to others!".
The need for what I call "chypres nouveaux" was therefore latent all through the 2000s and the smashing success of Narciso Rodriguez for Her recalibrated what we consider a "modern chypre fragrance". (It's basically a floral woody musky and if you have guessed by now that Aromatics in White is one, you'd be more or less correct).

Consequently the senior Aromatics, with its dynamite rose-n'-patchouli core, had already been lightened with Aromatics Elixir Sheer Velvet Philtre Sensuel (try saying that quickly three times) from 2006 and Aromatics Elixir Perfumer's Reserve from 2011. The arrival of the new edition couldn't skip the sophisticated contemporary style that recently begat things like Si perfume by Armani or La Panthere by Cartier.

"I have always been fascinated with the magic of Aromatics Elixir and its attraction on the skin. I wanted to convey that feeling with a new, modern composition," stated perfumer Nicolas Beaulieu on the occasion of creating Aromatics in White.

Aromatics in White is particularly musky (and I'm glad fellow blogger Persolaise agrees), intensely patcoulisized and quite sweet in a sort of arabesque way, though not quite (no leaden "amber note"). Notice the prolonged, very pleasant powdery-soapy drydown that is simple but not simplistic. Its volume is turned down, yet its impact is keenly felt. And if you think you're not smelling it after a while, lean in cause it keeps itself alive on clothes like crazy.
All of these definitely put Aromatics in White into the contemporary map of worth-whiles (and the fluid, mother-of-pearl like austerity of the bottle is a bonus), but it might never really surpass the Sacred Beast that speaks the Charm of Making. Some things are immortal, even if they're not for everyone.


Fragrance Notes for Clinique Aromatics in White:
Top: Sichuan pepper, violet leaves, labdanum
Heart: rose, orange blossom, patchouli
Base: leather, musk, grey amber, benzoin, vanilla. 

Serge Lutens La Religieuse: new fragrance

The divide between darkness and light, between sanctity and profanity, between spirituality and carnality, and the overtones of a Catholic upbringing with its clash of good & evil have for long haunted the imagination of the master, mr.Serge Lutens himself. The contrast of white on black is another of the recurring themes in the canon of Lutens perfumes composed by perfumer Christopher Seldrake. (Just remember the furore about the white skin of his imaginary heroine when Serge Noire was luanched).

Jared Kubicki-Alafoto Photo Gallery via

La Religieuse ("the nun") is the latest Lutensian scent opus, a new unisex fragrance launching on January 30th 2015, focusing on the contrast between white jasmine (the flower of carnality and the South), incense (the religious reference par excellence) and the skin-compatible animalic notes of civet and musk. The monastic name isn't that hard to pin down, it being the title of a famous 18th century epistolary novel by Denis Diderot, posthumously published (and itself a reflection of Lettres Portugaises). In it, the fictional nun in question finds the life in the convent insufferable and pleads with the Marquis, a friend of the French author, to deliver her from her vows.
Can the fragrance be a social commentary in our modern age when religion is again exerting a powerful grip on impressionable minds?

The new Lutens perfume, La Religieuse, is part of the export line, encased in the familiar oblong bottles of the house and tinted an ecclesiastical purple.

Uniting only favorite notes of mine and a concept simpatico to the Lutensian universe, if it proves half as wearable as L'Orpheline I'm sold.

Related reading on Perfume Shrine: Serge Lutens fragrance news & reviews

The Different Company Une Nuit Magnetique: fragrance review

“But then fall comes, kicking summer out on its treacherous ass as it always does one day sometime after the midpoint of September, it stays awhile like an old friend that you have missed. It settles in the way an old friend will settle into your favorite chair and take out his pipe and light it and then fill the afternoon with stories of places he has been and things he has done since last he saw you.”
― Stephen King, 'Salem's Lot'

Even though the temperatures are nowhere close to bringing out the woolen-patch jodhpurs, the heavy jumpers and the nautical pea-coat I associate with a chair by the fire, I have played with a little light, merino wool scarf these past few crisp early mornings before the sun would rise high on the sky making me tie it on my purse's handle. Sprayed with The Different Company's latest launch, Une Nuit Magnetique, felt indeed like an old friend that I had missed. In more ways than one.

Une Nuit Magnetique by The Different Company looks dense and heavy on paper, as floral orientals sometimes do, but becomes a warm alcove of ambery woods on the skin, no rough edges, no hyper-sexualized dirty tricks. It bears the signature style of plush yet lightweight compositions for which its composer, the perfumer Christine Nagel, is acclaimed for. The sensuality of the cozier notes is unmistakeable, never cloying, a transparent "oriental" chord built on benzoin and rose with quite a bit of musk and a hint of what feels like the famous Prunol base, that enveloping material that gives a sort of raisin and mulled-in-sweet-wine plums tinge to so many classic masterpieces, from Rochas Femme to Shiseido/Serge Lutens Feminite du Bois, and on to modern iterations (see Mon Parfum Cheri par Camille by the brand of Annick Goutal where it's coupled with a very strong patchouli note). However the character of Une Nuit Magnetique remains ultimately undecipherable, despite the familiarity, almost an enemy to parsing.

I have just published a full review on Fragrantica on this link.

Fragrance notes for TDC Une Nuit Magnetique: 
Top: ginger, bergamot and blueberry;
middle: Egyptian jasmine, Turkish rose, tuberose and plum;
base: benzoin, patchouli, amber, musk and woody notes.

Guerlain Santal Royal: new fragrance

The upcoming launch by the historic house of Guerlain is called Santal Royal and comes in a bottle in the style of their "Eau de lit" and "Eau de lingerie" scents, but dressed in pitch dark black, with a gold filigree label and a cap and adorned with a tassel in black & gold hanging from the neck.

borrowed via Jaroslav's blog

Guerlain Santal Royal is an oriental woody perfume with spicy overtones that heralds the coming of the cooler season, in the manner of "cashmere scents" we perfumistas here on PerfumeShrine like to annotate to autumn and winter. Jan Masters describes it as "an evening scent, although I could imagine it cheering up grey days as if cosying up in a cashmere wrap."
Of course pair Guerlain and sandalwood in the same phrase and everyone thinks of Guerlain Samsara (with the lone historian reminiscing about Guerlain Santal parfum from the first years of the 20th century), but we're told this is a very different perfume.

Santal Royal is a Harrods exclusive launch for the opening of their Salon de Parfums, retailing at £125 for 125ml of fragrance and the scent is composed by resident perfumer for Guerlain Thierry Wasser. Harrods are plugging the Salon des Parfums, a new abode for perfume enthusiasts on the 6th floor, which opens on October 16th at 8pm, attendance by invitation only. The fragrance will eventually arrive on boutique counters as well.

The fragrance notes for Guerlain Santal Royal include the eponymous mystical note of sandalwood, coupled with cinnamon and fresh neroli on the top, while the deeper, denser notes of warm amber, musk and leather rise from the base. Preliminary reportage suggests also a note of rose and oud in the formula that isn't mentioned in the official breakdown.

My own addition is that now that the sustainable Australian sandalwood plantations of Santalum alba have been fruitful we're set for a new wave of sandalwood fragrances that will reprise that most prized of woody notes. Assuming of course that Santal Royal contains said ingredient.

Maison Francis Kurkdjian Les Pluriels Masculin and Feminin: fragrance reviews

This coming September star perfumer Francis Kurkdjian is launching a duet of scents, Feminin and Masculin in Les Pluriels, for his eponymous brand. I have sampled both and have lived to tell the tale, which is a good one, if not highly original (even within his private niche line). The story is just published on Fragrantica, more of which below, and you're welcome to comment either there or here.

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Basically Kurkdjian isn't traitorous to what he sets out to do, he considers perfumery more of an artistic craft than high art and believes in the concept of the fragrance wardrobe; his brand is meant to have something for every occasion (for the light "cologne" type for morning to the lush out animalics for intimate soirees) , so the newest diptych fits there comfortable. The bit that is perhaps more difficult to catch is the "eternal feminine" and "eternal masculine" he sets out to accomplish; tall order, especially because no one seems to agree on set parameters on those. After all, it's all a matter of semiotics, external signs for easy communication of a desired message and men and women are just themselves ~men and women. They're not defined by the jodhpurs they choose, the T-shirt and its bow neck or V-neck skimming breasts or not. They're not defined by the cut of their jeans (see "boyfriend's jeans"). They're not even defined by their added fragrance (read our Gender Bending Fragrances article if in doubt).

Feminin Pluriel has a very distinct progression like the passage of colors in the arc. The carrot impression of the iris hits you first, welcome solace from the overdone pink grapefruit /pink pepper or so much modern juice out there, setting the motion for the violet which follows on the skin very very soon. This note, a ubiquitous and perfect complement to both the rooty iris and the woody notes to follow, seems to meld into jasmine and a honeyed abstract orange blossom (reminiscent of its fore-bearers), comprising the main dish. This is further floralized by benzyl salicylate, a very popular ingredient boosting the "solar," luminous aspects of a scent. The cascading of the notes is so noticeable and so distinct that it's as if one ticks off the notes off a list or is watching a race course with the runners passing the baton to one another. Kurkdjian is no stranger to iris-violety things, given a sheer and non-powdery spin, lifting them from their traditional greyish mauve plumage befitting a solemn occasion via cheerful accents; witness his Iris Nobile for Acqua di Parma, surely the most optimistic and light-hearted iris floral out there.

The woody musky backdrop in Feminin Pluriel is engulfing a rose-citrus molecule (indeed, geraniol which has facets hinting at bergamot, rose, other citruses and carrot —the analogue of iris—so it all fits together, hand in glove) and feels as smooth and indefinable as the base in his rose-centered "nouveau chypres" (modern Rumeur, Guerlain Rose Barbare, Rose de Siwa and less so in the less rosy ones such as Narciso for Her and Elie Saab Le parfum). It fits his canon! Picture perfect pretty, in a (public side) Grace Kelly sort of style, maybe too pretty for its own good.

You can read my full review on this link.

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Regarding Masculin Pluriel, I feel a clear progression from smoky, lightly citrusy vetiver to lavender fougère and on to leathery-smelling patchouli. It's as if the man you wake up to (after a romp in the sheets) jumps up to wash and groom to go to the office and have his "power meetings" before heading out to a private club in the evenings to indulge in a little light S&M, yourself included or not. Schizophrenic? No, just multi-layered, shadow and light, like people are, in fact. Ironic too, because the cleanness of Masculin Pluriel is overreaching like a giant fig leaf hiding the family jewels. The coolness of lavender in Masculin clutches itself to the cooler aspects of patchouli (both sharing a minty facet) echoing one another. It's also a balanced bittersweet fragrance (not sweet like Le Male); one would be fooled to think it's only plush and lush and shaven to a glistening six-pack fit for a glossy magazine…

Although not a chest-thumping kind of a scent (nor an animalic-smelling Jicky full to the brim with civet), the spicy-metallic roughness of a more traditionally rugged mien in Masculin hints at a guy who doesn't shave said pectorals and dons the occasional leather trousers that have seen some wear and tear.

You can read my full review on this link.

Jul Et Mad Aqua Sextius: fragrance review

The shady, cloistered Cour Mirabeau in Aix-en-Provence hides a treasure trove of small cafes to challenge even Athens. But it is the seemingly endless array of fountains that belies the connection with my city of dwelling. The palpable coolness and crispness of water spray in the air are solace in the hot summer months, the ivy clad building where Chez Feraud gets its business, the birthhouse of the painter Cezanne transformed into a small museum, the parade of students resting their bikes by the bottle green hitching posts on the street a buzzing beehive of life… A slice of that joyous life is caught in Aqua Sextius, launched by Jul et Mad last March during the Excence scent exhibition in Milan.

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Aqua Sextius is the latest opus by Cecile Zarokian, a perfumer that shapes up to become a force to be reckoned with in the niche perfume sector. I have enjoyed her Amouage Epic for the ladies, exhibiting a gift for plushness that doesn't drag by impenetrable density. Her portfolio includes fragrances for Jovoy, Laboratorio Olfactivo and MDCI Perfumes, and also other even more esoteric or fledging brands which I admit haven't really explored (but am open to all the same!). The latest composition she submitted to the real life binational couple of "Jul et Mad" (Julien Blanchard and Madalina Stoica-Blanchard) who have based their brand onto their real life romance, told chapter by chapter, fragrance by fragrance, is wildly different from the thing I expected before checking out the press description.
Although Aqua predisposes one for "water", my mind reeled more into the "Eau" French counterpart that usually denotes a light and limpid citrus & herbs composition inspired by the time-honored eau de cologne recipe bequest from the 18th century onwards. Boy, as I wrong in assuming.

Aqua Sextius by Jul et Mad comes across as indeed an "aquatic" and if there's one genre which the current perfumista micro- world hasn't quite forgiven the 1990s (the median perfumista's budding years, I suppose therefore dismissed for being naive?) it is "marine" fragrances.
This is mainly a fault of the relative blandness of the blends, the impression of chilling silence before a piercing battle cry (that'd be the 2000s uber-sweet gourmands that'd risk giving cavities even by osmosis) rather than the smell of water bodies and the sea that aquatic fragrances in vain tried to approximate. As a consequence of perfumers not being entirely able to catch the nuance seascape into a predetermined "chord" or "note", a couple of aces up their sleeves became olfactory code for "aquatic", realism be damned: Calone, the smell of cut melon, dewy and too sweet to stand for convincing water but wildly propaged such as in CK Escape; violet nitriles, giving the damp and juicy impression of sliced cucumbers and dewy violet leaves (a successful example in Eau de Cartier); dihydromyrcenol, a metallic citrus-lavender molecule with a side of dish wash cleaner, famously enshrined to public consciousness in Davidoff's Cool water and its prolific spawn. Unless you'd been told (or had been suggested to by images of sea & river spray via advertising and packaging) you'd hardly pick "water" or "sea" to describe those notes. No matter, they're part of semiotics.

The duo of Julien and Madalina (the Jul et Mad of the company's brand name) apparently asked Zarokian for a fragrance that'd replicate their meeting in Aix-en-Provence (the Latin name of consul Gaius Sextius reflected in the later Germanic-rooted Aix): the fountains, the buzz of warm weather insects, the countryside, the romance of Southern France. One tends to forget it, rapped up into the Parisian sophistication perpetuated for public consumption, but France is a Mediterranean country, a significant part of its shores bathed in the azure of Mare Nostrum. But as mentioned above, catching that elusive scent is supremely difficult. Aqua Sextius instead turns to mint and a hint of eucalyptus to give a fresh green piquancy reminiscent of the "city of 100 fountains" as Aix-en-Provence is famed as, a slice of cedar woodiness and musky amber diffusive elements, the "marine" part reminding me of dihydromyrcenol (thankfully sans Calone). "The market has homogenized tastes and the crisis hasn't really changed that; people turn to   what is already familiar", comments Vincent Gregoire, trend watcher and the Nelly Rodi lifestyle director. Maybe is this a reason behind using such a familiar "note" in a celestial fragrance that comes from a niche brand?  It could be. It could also be a personal bet that Cecile Zarokian put herself in for; it's not easy to divest a popular trope of its signs and view it anew. I don't know what to make of it, really but at least I can see where Zarokian is coming from.

The fragrance's shade, an inviting aqua (bit bluer than the green depicted above in real life) that I'd love to include in my summery chiffon blouses arsenal, is one of those cases that the coloring of the juice is supremely matched to the olfactory impression rendered.

High marks to Jul et Mad for offering several options of packaging in even really small sizes for perfumephiles to cut their teeth onto, such as the 20ml black glass Compagon atomiser and the 5ml Love Dose miniatures.

Serge Lutens L'Orpheline: fragrance review & sample draw

Much like the mysterious (and incestuous) half-sister in Leos Carax's  radical adaptation of Melville's Pierre: or, the Ambiguities (1852) in "Pola X", the specter of the missing family member being visited while in almost somnambulist state, L'orpheline (the orphan girl), the latest Serge Lutens fragrance, becomes "un visage….sans age…une souffle, une presence" (a face…ageless…a breath, a presence) which disrupts the flow of a seemingly smooth, luxurious life with its secret of a tormented and deprived past. And again much like the play of light & darkness throughout the film by Leos, L'orpheline presents a play between the cool and warm register, between madness creeping underneath love, and between comfort emerging where you least expect it. Like Pierre, Lutens, you see, views himself as an artist in love with reckless gestures, only thankfully his charm lies not in any thorough immaturity. On the contrary, he has revealed intimate, personal stuff to us with the maturity that comes from acceptance.

Serge presents the new perfume in these words written in a vertical sequence: " Friable mais entière.À demi-mot, son nom se fêle. Avant la brisure, les deux premières syllabes portent le nom du poète qui même pouvait charmer les pierres. " Lutens of course winks at Orpheus, the legendary Greek poet and prophet who charmed every being with his music and tried to retrieve his wife, Eurydice, from the dead by way of his skills, only to meet with his own death from those who could not hear his divine music…which ties with the cryptic text he has written on L'Incendiaire, his other fragrant release, in a new "golden line", announced here a while ago. How's that for two shots with one stone?

Does Serge try to bring back his repressed beloved, his mother, a small bit at a time, with each of his fragrances? Possibly. Lutens is a grown Remi (after Malot's "Sans famille"), on a journey of the roads of France, on a journey of the roads of perfume. And like Carax or Rivette or any master of that school, he certainly takes his time into letting us share his journey.
The poetic concept of the "orphan", "fragile but whole" (this is a French expression that really loses in the translation), is inspired by Lutens's own childhood, "of ashes" and rage, his painful memories of being raised without a mother and abandoned by his father, though the change of sex in the fragrance name suggests a Freudian transposition regarding the significance of the Father (as suggested by Lutens himself). He conflates the male with pain ("le Mâle : le mal"), an Oedipal symbolism that doesn't go amiss. Nor is it intended to.

For this coolish and quiet fragrance (sequentially warmish, like Gris Clair) named  L'Orpheline, Lutens and his sidekick perfumer Chris Sheldrake focus on incense notes, not as cold and soapy as in L'Eau Froide, neither as spicy warm and shady as in Serge Noire, but somewhere in between; entre chien et loup, between daylight and darkness. Frankincense, the impression of bittersweet myrrh and peppery-acrid (elemi? cumin? ginger?) rather than clove-y carnation notes seem to rise, a cross between spirituality and carnality? Lutens knows how to marry contradictions and swath the opulence of orientalia into Parisian refinement. The spicy note in the heart reminds me of a mix between mace and cumin, reminiscent of both Secret Obsession (the now discontinued Calvin Klein fragrance) and a lighter Serge Noire by Lutens.

Yet the end result in L'Orpheline is apart; neither a true Moroccan oriental like hardcore Serge fans have built an online cult out of, nor a classically French perfume for the salon, but a mysterious, vaporous emanation "between the storm and clear skies", between the ashes of the past and the uncertainty of the future, a Delacroix painting, a dwindling match leaving embers behind. The peppery accent on the incense reminds me of the treatment of carnations in Oeillet Bengale (one of the best releases of the year so far) while the musky underlay is soft, subtle, meditative and not entirely without a certain poignancy.

L'Orpheline would suit anyone who like Pierre "had been waiting for something", regardless of their sex. Haven't we all?

L'Orpheline is an haute concentration fragrance, meaning more concentrated than the beige label ones, belonging in the "black line" of the so called "export range" by Serge Lutens. It will retail at 99 euros for 50ml, is already at the Palais Royal and eboutique and will be widely launched internationally on September 1st.

One sample out of my own decant to a lucky reader commenting below. Draw is open till Sunday midnight.

Ayala Moriel Parfums Musk Malabi: fragrance review

Originally released to coincide with the spring equinox and Nowruz (the Persian New Year), the intoxicating floral confection Musk Malabi by Ayala Moriel is unabashedly feminine, subtly exotic and hopelessly romantic, evoking for the wearer a sensory experience not unlike a passionate love affair. Musk Malabi was inspired by and named after a traditional Middle Eastern dessert, malabi—a milk-based pudding or custard, thickened with rice flour, which israelikitchen.com describes as "You'll taste rose-flavored sweetness and a light, creamy texture that keeps you dipping your spoon back in till the Malabi's all gone". (Actually the artisan perfumer has a recipe for Malabi on her blog!).

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The scent of Moriel's Musk Malabi is a rich, milky-smelling, lactonic musk with a lightly coolish top note, sweetly petering out to rosewater and orange flower water. The result is a succulent and sensual confection that can only be enjoyed in the context of one loving sheer, plush, sensuous scents meant to be shared between lovers; spoonful by spoonful, preferably as the final courting phase before other things happen or as an intimate refueling of energy… Although this description might tend to stigmatize a musk fragrance as being a tad too intimate for comfort (if you know what I mean), there is no such danger with Musk Malabi, because the succulence outweighs the usual funky scent of "musk". The fusion of vegetal sourced musk-smelling materials is an intricate but rewarding experience for the perfumer who ends up with a mix that alternates between warm and cool and complements perfectly with the milkier (like sandalwood inflected rose) and fluffier notes (imagine a downy soft note of orris and vanilla, even though I'm not sure orris is included in the official set of notes)

Having grown up in Israel, the sights, sounds, and smells of the Mediterranean have always been a source of inspiration for Canadian based indie perfumer Ayala Moriel. "What has always captured my imagination about malabi is its soft, evocative-sounding name, and its unique fragrant combination of rosewater and neroli water," explains Ayala. "Rose and orange blossom are such noble flowers yet oh so different."

Tunisian neroli and Turkish rose meet with musk in the heart of Musk Malabi, creating an unusual and mesmerizing triad. This botanical musk, designed to smell as close as possible to deer musk, brings an effortless fluidity to this magnetic fragrance, playing the role of Cupid in the fragrance and drawing the lovers (rose and neroli) together. There is also cardamom, coriander and blood orange on top.
As with all Ayala Moriel perfumes, Musk Malabi is all-natural and free of animal cruelty, created entirely of botanical essences. The top and heart notes of this sensual fragrance rest on a silky bed of atlas cedarwood, botanical musk and Tahitian vanilla.

Good deed bonus in purchasing: Ayala Moriel Parfums is donating 10% of sales to aid Syrian refugees.

Musk Malabi is available in eau de parfum 4 ml ($49) and 15 ml ($119) bottles on the official website of Ayala Moriel Parfums and the Vancouver Giving Gifts & Company.

Related reading on Perfume Shrine: Scented Musketeers: musk fragrances reviews

Parfums M.Micallef Rouge #1: fragrance review

Rose stands as a symbol of femininity, at least in the western world. Perfectly formed, delicately or more passionately hued, its scent combining freshness with powder and sweet liqueur can be heavenly ~or it can be hellish. All too often rose fragrances can turn sour or dusty, like moldy pot-pouri that has been sitting for ages unattended and unappreciated at the corner of the window ledge, sitting on a lace doily, fearing for its survival from the leap of a hundred cats vying for the tenant's attention. If you're nodding your head thinking "rose smells of old ladies" and the paraphernalia this cultural stigma evokes, I know you can understand my personal pained story with rose. But not all is doom and gloom in regards to the queen of flowers.

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So what can a perfumer and a clever conceived brand do to avoid this perilous and unpopular situation?

One solution is to go for earthy and thorny and pair rose with patchouli (and possibly white truffle notes), a time-honored, but especially galvanized by niche perfume companies recently, concept. (I think Voleur de Roses by L'Artisan Parfumeur was the pioneer in making this a niche trope).
Another, no less popular route, is to cuddle the rose in peachy lactonic materials, appearing as apricot, peach or nectarine in the list of notes. This has been a collective snuggly and hyper-feminine reference since that mega-blockbuster by Lancome, Trésor, the accord "décolleté" as its creator called it. Of course if you have ever sat next to a woman wearing Trésor you know there is such a notion as "too much of a good thing"; it's as subtle as a sledgehammer and as elegant as a 100 carat diamond hanging off your neck on a chain of thick gold. But this is where the niche brands can employ their finesse (see Liaisons Dangeureses by Kilian and Vive la Mariée by Parfums de Rosine for fine roses that won't suffocate) and M.Micallef is no stranger to the concept.

Rouge #1 by M.Micallef is part Le Collection Rouge (the red collection) which comprises two scents for now (Rouge #2 to be reviewed on another day). Rouge #1, composed by perfumer Jean Claude Astier, encompasses all the guiles of femininity and renders a fruity floral you won't be sorry to pick up for yourself and own. Polished, groomed, lightly powdery, with a fuzzy opening that unites summer fruit and rose, the floral part gains on nuance as the fragrance develops. It's unmistakably rose, but even if you don't usually like roses it manages to seduce you with a smile. The drydown has lots of (clean) musk indeed (with hints of rice pudding, a nice touch which fits with the refined gourmand successes of the brand). All fragrances in this genre are musky, but it blends in seamlessly here (after all Micallef does Royal Muska too, a lovely clean heavy-duty musk scent by itself).
M.Micallef Rouge #1 is what you'd picture a young mother wearing, a woman in love and a daughter borrowing perfume off a mother's vanity to graft some of that admired but at the same time cozy, tender feeling onto herself as an amulet against the world. Alas, not fit for most men; sorry guys, this is all ours!

Good projection and very good lasting power from the dab on I have been using. The bottles as usual are hand-decorated by Martine Micallef herself with her usual flair for the artistic and the beautiful and pay homage to the Art Deco style. This is a case where niche isn't just an excuse for charging high prices for hot air.


Notes for M.Micallef Rouge#1: 
Top: peach and tangerine
Heart: ylang-ylang, jasmine and rose
Base: white musk, vanilla and benzoin.

Marchesa Parfum d'Extase: fragrance review

Some perfumes are what in perfumista-land we call "compliment getters"; they elicit spontaneous feedback from strangers in the decidedly positive end of the spectrum. Usually this either has to do a bit with current trends (familiarity creates recognition and fuzzy warmth) or -ironically enough- with breaking away from trends (something totally novel and unexpected has a way of ripping through our preconceptions and making as notice it). And sometimes it just has to do with the overall character of a smell: it can be gracefully smooth, easy, a sort of effortless elegance which anyone can graft onto them.  The kind of thing you put on and forget about it, until someone comments on it. Parfum d'Extase by Marchesa is one case among that latter category, because even though it's neither novel nor overpopular, it breeds that sort of cozy reception which accounts for having people say "hey, you smell really nice, what's that?". So, lemme tell you what that is.

I tried the new "all over mist" version of Parfum d'Extase, available at Sephora, which denotes a lighter concentration to be used all over. This kind of formula allows for a more spread application and I do just that, reveling in being allowed to indulge in this kind of wild abandon, knowing I'm not gassing anyone with potent fumes. (You wouldn't see me doing that with YSL Opium or Carnal Flower, would you!). That means a generous spray on hair and on the hairline at the back of my neck, one spray on chest and belly each, behind the knees and a touch on my wrists. In total about 6 spritzes of silky goodness.

The fragrance is a white flower concoction (an abstract mix that is hard to pinpoint) with a lovely touch of cool and clean rained-upon fresh leaves vibe, which we have come to collectively call "iris" in modern fragrances, when in fact this is a half truth (the secret is the irone molecules which are added in the formula, present in orris root and giving that specific tinge).
For an iris fragrance it's not at all starchy ("irises" can turn into a "raw potatoes scent" on skin contact sometimes); on the contrary it's lightly aqueous floral at first with a very pretty and extended woody drydown that dries some more as time passes. Perfumer Annie Byzantian is an expert with those silky compositions with a musky and lightly powdery scent trail. The most characteristic note to peep is freesia; you have to have a positive reaction to the simultaneously fresh and peppery zing of freesia to like Parfum d'Extase.

I suspect the drydown part however is the one that has people spontaneously notice and comment; although a non-heavyweight fragrance, Marchesa Parfum d'Extase has a lingering and beckoning trail (similar to the category of "woody floral musk" fragrances) which is felt more by those you come into contact with than yourself. It's also non age specific: it would smell just as lovely and easy on teens as it would on grandmas.

I'm not especially drawn to the original perfume bottle by Marchesa (it's a bit much for my taste and I find the "paste" touches a tad tacky, sorry), but most people have a favorable reaction to it. After all, it's what inside that counts. I bet this would be a crowd-pleaser in your neighborhood as well.

Notes for Marchesa Parfum d'Extase: Iris Flower, Freesia, Black Current, Young Violet Leaves, Lotus Flower, Night Blooming Jasmine, Bulgarian Rose Water, Orange Blossom, Iris Root, Ambrox, Captive Musks.

Le Labo Limette 37 (San Francisco exclusive): fragrance review

One of my better English teachers was a longtime resident of San Francisco; in fact she had met her husband in the City by the Bay, which, given the place's gaydar and the couple's subsequent breakup -due to his not wanting children, ever- might have been an ominous sign she might have noticed beforehand. But the fact remains -and I was reminded of it recently coming across Limette 37 by Le Labo- that I was tenderly and gingerly spoon-fed from a very young age the pure magic that this most cinematic of American cities presents: the Golden Bay bridge, the roads going up & down, perfect for car chase scenes such as in Bullitt, Basic Instinct and Jade, the small cafes, the buildings charmingly retro (and almost never do they hide a wacko like in Pacific Heights), the fishermen and the earthquakes (that last bit so eerily familiar to my Greek existence that I felt like kin) and of course the dolly zoom distorted views from Vertigo...Ah, my heart sighs.

Come to think of it, and with the eyes of a foreigner, it's always amazing how much a film depiction of a place creates an impression that is different and yet at the same time somehow captive of its innermost charm (Admit it, didn't any of you fall all over in love again with London upon watching this scene from The Parent Trap with the lovely The Las song in the background? OK, I digress, but...)
So, if like me you have always dreamt of San Francisco as an impossible ectoplasm rather than a real place you can step your foot on, you might have had higher expectations from a fragrance sold exclusively there. You might have even though it would "represent" this eidolon, though obviously Le Labo didn't (and wouldn't) go there. {The folks state it so ever so clearly on their site, man: "Don't expect Le Labo's San Francisco exclusive to be a chilly summer fog essence or the Golden Gate in a bottle. Limette 37's reference to The City is abstract"}

Limette 37 is certainly not unpleasant; in fact it is quite pleasant indeed (and absolutely unisex in feel) and I bet it would go down well with lots of people and have random folks pronounce "you smell good!" blah blah blah. The opening is nicely cologne-y with bergamot and petit-grain, slightly bitter and surprisingly softened with coolish vetiver. A small segment of warmth is peeping through, a touch of spice, a little sweetness reminding me of innocent linden flowers, just so. Upon drying down Limette 37 reveals lots of subtle, creamy clean musks that have a humming tenacity (and which are almost the only thing left at the mark of 2 hours's wear, perfect cover-up if you have seriously embraced the hippie "naturalness" popular in SF in the 1960s if you know what I mean, and a pain in the butt if you require your expensive perfumes to smell for longer than that).

My gripe is that you can probably achieve that effect with lots of other scents on the market (see our Skin Scents article for more fragrance suggestions, including some from the same company), without forking the big bucks for an exclusive release, nor having to jump through hoops to get to San Francisco to buy this latest Le Labo fragrance. In fact being sandwiched into the summer 2013 release trio by Le Labo, the other two being the excellent Ylang 49 and Lys 41, Limette 37 is even more leaving something to be desired.

For that reason, Limette 37 can't go into my "must own" list. Whether it will go into yours is a question of means (in both senses of the word) vs. opportunity. Currently and only up till October 15th, the Le Labo city exclusives are available online at the Le Labo site.

Official notes for Le Labo Limette 37: bergamot, petit-grain, jasmine, clove, vetiver, musk, tonka bean.

For those paying attention to visuals: stills are (of course) from top to bottom from the films Bullitt, Jade, Vertigo and Basic Instinct. I decided to use some of the less predictable shots from those (opting for black & white in two cases), in order to convey the non representative nature of it all. The scent is nothing like the reputation of either film and is its own thing. I just plead to be allowed to have my fun, that's all.