There are not as many fragrances with a leading narcissus note, as I would wish, and some of the best have been discontinued, for example, Le Temps d’Une Fête Nicolaï Parfumeur Créateur and Ostara Penhaligon's. Patricia de Nicolaï's Le Temps d'une Fête is the perfect narcissus-ladden green floral to evoke spring, full of crushed leaves and grass; a fragrance so beautiful and cheerful that it will make you spin around and around humming Mendelssohn's Spring Song even when taking down the Christmas decorations.
It does bring on a little chill from the frost of March. It's the bitter, sharp synergy of galbanum and oakmoss; they have a sobering effect on the narcotic aura of the narcissus/jonquil and hyacinth heart.
photo via Pinterest from johnnyseeds.com
It is the promise of spring-time in this transitory phase in which the first buds are tentatively raising their heads beneath the still cold air, which is enough to have us on pins and needles for the full blown effect of spring's arrival. It's usually then a little spring-like fragrance is very much desired — nay, craved — when the last woolies of the winter season are finally getting their last rites, so to speak, like Le Temps d'une Fête. And when it comes...cause of celebration!
Le Temps d'une Fête is like that, exactly. The joy of living rendered through natural paint strokes of the most
delicate and precious watercolors. A masterpiece of dexterity and
finesse
Alas, the brand discontinued it long ago. I do hope they bring it back from the dead in a rite of eternal spring!
First of all, let me prephrase this review by saying the original vintage edition of Molinard de Molinard from 1979 was a gift of my beloved, who chose it by himself at a rather tender, unpretentious age when the love of scent was visceral and not plied with words that pertain to the perfumery vernacular like it is sprinkled with now. That fragrance therefore marked me in so many ways that it's impossible to bypass this sweet memory when trying to assess the scent itself. Yet the Molinard company revamped the fragrance in recent years, regretfully changing the beautiful Lalique bottle with the dancing nymphs with a rather simpler, although not by any means plain, design; so I felt secure in trying to bring forth my thoughts anew.
It's still a sprightly green floral, Molinard de Molinard eau de toilette, the way they used to do fruity with a touch of green, instead a good lather of shampoo, back in the olden days. It never comes off as an entirely "clean", entirely lathered sort of scent, but rather something with a bit of a grime from a roll in the garden or the outdoors at any rate, the way Ralph Lauren's 1990 launch of Safari for women also did. The two additionally share a very significant note of marigold in the core of the formula, exuding a ripe apple-like scent, which bathes everything in good humor and diaphanous light.
And then the heart-aching synergy of jasmine and rose are singing in the green octaves of the verdant materials (earthy vetiver, oily and sweet narcissus, bitter galbanum) which come through to whisper that we're dealing with a nymph, a sprite, a creature of the great outdoors and not of the Parisian salon, even if she comes out of a French bottle with a cute ribbon on the neck. And are we are thankful that it's still that picture of how he pictured us in his imagination back then...
"Wow, this smells like…I've never smells anything like this" or "This doesn't smell like Dolce & Gabban's Light Blue. What do you have that smells like what I usually wear?"are a couple of the whispered comments of customers at the brick & mortar store of Providence Perfume Co, at Providence, RI 02903. I have recently written on the Aesthetic Principle which, like the pleasure principle, should, I believe, lead our choices on fragrances in an increasingly rationed world. And thus I find it pertinent that my review of Ivy Tower should follow it. Here is a green floral that is beautiful, delicate, different and missing the "herbal" component of some all naturals, which to echo its perfumer "doesn't smell like Light Blue and I'm OK with that."
Green fragrances are a difficult bunch to render in all natural essences, mainly because the green-smelling materials fall into two groups which each possesses one stumbling block: the natural elements, such as galbanum resin, are either very hard to dose in a composition of all naturals without overpowering the blend (Chanel No.19andJacomo Silencesare not perfumes for wussies!) or else are so subtle that they vanish quickly, such as the cucumber-tea note of mimosa blossom.; the more convincing synthetic materials such as cis-3 hexenol with its cut-grass feeling, Ligustral (snapped leaves) and Lilial with its green lily of the valley aura are of course off grounds for a natural perfumer.
Chanel No.19 Poudre tried to reconcile the green monster with the emerald-hued polished nails with the grassy rolling waif in gauzy whites and it presents a modern "temperate" effort that is valiant, if a bit tamed, for the lovers of the original Chanel icon that inspired it. I don't recall many other contemporary fragrances in the delicate greens genre that truly made it (A Scent by Issey Miyake though quite good never met with the success it deserved, Bvlgari's Omnia Green Jade is sorta too tame for its own good), excluding the niche scene for obvious reasons.
So Charna Ethier exhibits skill in rendering a rustic rained upon scene from somewhere north; like a secluded private garden in York, in North Yorkshire, I had once visited, all rainy soaked paths and ivy climbing on stone-walls retaining the rain drops and reflecting them like giant water bubbles that make your bones chill a bit even in the dead of summer. The fragrance of Ivy Tower like those bubbles takes on shades of green, blue, and gentle lilac, depending on where it hits on a warm, blood-pulsing vein and hovers there for a while in the confluence of watery sprites and drowning Ophelias. Eventually it takes on a more customary jasmine, lilies and woodsy notes path, but the journey up to there is dreamy enough to make a heart melt a bit.
Ivy Tower (green) is part of a new collection of natural perfume oils by all naturals perfumer Charna Ethier of Providence Perfume Co, whose Samarinda has been reviewed on these pages before. The rest of the collection includes Rose 802 (pink), Orange Blossom Honey (orange), Summer Yuzu(yellow), Sweet Jasmine Brown (blue) and Violet Beauregarde (violet). The oils are color coded, which is supremely practical when sampling. The choice of an oil format (admittedly not one of my strong suits as I usually like the abundance effect that an alcohol based format allows) stems from the customer base: people blending essences at Providence's popular perfume bar, citing a desire for portability and longevity. The given notes for Ivy Tower by Providence Perfume Co are: jonquil, mimosa, geranium, jasmine, narcissus, blue tansy, lily, sandalwood. Info and purchase at www.providenceperfume.com In the interests of disclosure I was sent a sample by the perfumer for reviewing purposes.
What possessed Givenchy to create two fragrances in 1957, the well known L'Interdit and the less known Le De, both inspired from and originally intended for Audrey Hepburn? In retrospect, though both elegant, delicate enough florals of immense clarity to reflect the tameness of the 1950s in terms of perfume expectations and societal mores and therefore suited to the "nice girl" elegance of Hepburn herself, the commercial supremacy of one over the other has left Le De in the twilight. It's perhaps telling that Bette Davis, no spring chicken when Le De became available in 1958 ~the actress was hitting 50, well into maturity by the standards of the time~ chose to wear the ill-fated one. Le De remains today a snapshot of how women used to smell, ladylike and in pearls, and even in the re-orchestrated re-issue that the company launched in 2007, seems a captive of time in one way or another.
The oddly named Le De is a reference to the particle of nobility in Hubert de Givenchy's name. In 1952, at the age of 24, Givenchy opened his own design house on 8, rue Alfred de Vigny in Paris introducing it with the "Bettina Graziani" collection, named after Paris's top model at the time. He had a tight budget and only three staff working in a room loaned to him by friend and mentor couturier Cristobal Balenciaga.
The landmark of Givenchy's style, and the contrast to his more conservative contemporary Christian Dior, was innovativeness: The revolutionary use of cheaper fabrics employed in designs that intrigued with their aesthetic viewpoint, instead of their bourgeois luxury (influenced no doubt by Balenciaga), and his "separates", instead of the more standard option of dresses. Audrey Hepburn, later the most prominent champion of Givenchy's fashion (and to many the fashion plate whose image both benefited from and inspired him in equal measure), met the French designer in 1953 during the shoot of Sabrina. He had mistakenly thought he was going to meet and dress Katherine Hepburn...An immediate friendship was forged over this misunderstanding and Hubert went on to design almost all the wardrobes she wore in her movies, prompting him to later say that "Audrey's image is associated with my name". She never failed to note that "Hubert gave me self-confidence. In one of his suits with the beautiful buttons I can forget my shyness and talk in front of 800 people". Their friendship lasted till her untimely death.
Le De came about when Hubert chose decided to gift his friend with a perfume; actually he commissioned two, the other being L'interdit (created in 1957 and commercialized in 1964) and they were hers alone for a whole year. In 1958 the idea of launching perfume under the aegis of his house saw Le De being introduced to the market while L'Interdit was immortalised in another classic Audrey Hepburn film, Breakfast at Tiffany's.
Comparing vintage and modern Le De Givenchy
The vintage edition of Le De comes across as a strange floral etude in the lineage of Le Dix de Balenciaga, with the violet note treated in a non sweet manner, contrary to all confectionary and makeup references that violets usually translate to perfumery. Instead the astringency of the violets gains soapy and powdery nuances (thanks to orris and rose) presenting the suds and puffs of a beauty ritual through the sheer panel of a light filter. There is no natural reference, just abstraction. The narcissus essence is laced with the impression of a horse's sweat, segueing into a musky feminine aura that is lived-in contrasting nicely with the general "groomed" effect. It is subtle enough that you won't catch it unless you're looking for it.
In 2007 a re-issue of Le De Givenchy was launched under the auspice Les Mythiques, a homage collection to the classics in the Givenchy line. The modern Le De is a play on humid floralcy. A dewy floral would theoretically appeal to modern sensibilities, even though this style had commercially expired by the time that the company thought about launching it. The violet is subdued and a "clean" orange blossom and lily of the valley are making it approachable and familiar. The structure recalls a woody musky floral and sillage and projection remain low-key, though perfectly calibrated to function as a constant halo. As of time of writing, the modern Le De is still available from Harrods.
How to Differentiate Different Editions
The original Le De Givenchy was introduced in 1957. The vintage bottle has rounded shoulders and is following the classic mould common for L'Interdit as well. It was available in eau de toilette and extrait de parfum. The 2007 re-issue of Le De Givenchy in Les Mythiques line is encased in a lilac box with the logo of Givenchy repeated in the design motif of the packaging. The bottle in frosted glass, tall, with sparse lines and sharp shoulders. EDIT: My reader Lily notes that there is an update on the Les Mythiques 2007 edition, introduced in 2011, with slight differences in the packaging, although I haven't come across it in person. If anyone can describe the differences and whether there's a change in scent I'd be happy to include the info.
Notes for the vintage Le De Givenchy:
Top notes are coriander, mandarin orange, tarragon, bergamot and brazilian rosewood
middle notes: carnation, lilac, orris root, jasmine, ylang-ylang, lily-of-the-valley and rose
base notes: sandalwood, amber, musk, oakmoss and guaiac wood. Notes for the 2007 Les Mythiques Le De Givenchy:
Top notes: coriander and lily-of-the-valley
middle notes: jasmine, ylang-ylang and bulgarian rose
base notes: sandalwood, vetiver and incense.
Les Feuilles Mortes: music by Joseph Kosma and lyrics by poet Jacques Prévert.
Yves Montand sung it in 1946 in the film "Les Portes de la Nuit".
"Just a drop on each wrist and two in the bath were enough to send silver running down the walls" wrote French Vogue editor Joan Juliet Buck once upon a time, referring to an absolute of narcissus, properly named Narcissus Poeticus in Latin or Poet's Daffodil (it's a kind of daffodil after all). And she continued: "It set the world throbbing out of contol when I wore it. It became a little weird. It was only years later that I read inhaling too much of it can make you go mad". Makes you want to rush out and find out where narcissus absolute is available, doesn't it! Yet narcissus absolute is almost never used in industrial calibre perfumes because of its scarcity and minute yield, which makes the cost prohibitive. Once upon a time it entered such romantic compositions as Worth's Je Reviens, but certainly not any more. Therefore, upon being informed that indie German perfumer and jazz musician Annette Neuffer had prepared her own version of this intoxicating spring flower which spots the fields of my homeland right about springtime, I was immediately reminded of the above trivia. Annette reassured me that the fragrance "actually srceams for you - the indolic flowers gal". Can you say I've made my proclivities well-known...The dice was cast and predictably I was toast upon the very first vapour.
Because you see, all-naturals Narcissus Poeticus is heady, bedazzling, Bacchic, mind-blowing and beautiful, there's no other way to describe it! The tale of Narcissus, struck by Nemesis for his egotistical admiration makes you understand well just how this little flower can truly madden! The fragrance by Annette blends luscious, vibrant, natural essences, weaved into a dynamic composition; I have had it evolve on my skin, and each day there is a new nuance to be revealed, one day it's the jasmine, another what I perceive as orange blossom absolute (the genius pairing first conceived for Narcisse Noir by Caron) and another yet I get lots of yummy tonka bean. The inspiration came through early botanical fragrant evaluation excursions in Annette's Grandma's garden: "I was about 1,5 years old then. In spring there were lots of narcissus, jonquils and violets in bloom and their scent fascinated me already in that very early age of about 15 months! My grandma told me that I never put the flowers in my mouth, like all little kids do, but picked and inhaled them. The garden was located between forest and river and the most exciting humid crisp green scents were wafting around and intermingled with the air of the flowers".
This spring awakening is translated into Narcissus Poeticus. "Galbanum is the personification of that fresh spring green elusion and matches wonderfully with the essence of violet leaf. And a little later on in the year the fruity and fresh black currant buds - I used the absolute of it very sparingly to give a hint of fruitiness". Those who are afraid of the bitter green tang of the exotic grass of galbanum should sigh with relief, here it's weaved in very smoothly without dominating. Narcissus with its intoxicating, sweet, yet at the same time almost smoky vibe, poised between jasmine and hyacinth, is represented in all realism here; as if the white blooms are sprouting in front of your computer-weary eyes from the landscape painting across the wall.
You'd be hard pressed to peg this fragrance only as a floral or a green, nevertheless; there is an intimate, unsettling (deeply sexual) vibe about it, like a warm pillow where a beloved head had slept on the night before and you're clutching it in the morning, the memory of the scent even more precious than the reality lived, to paraphrase Henry Miller and his sexy Tropic of Cancer. The inclusion of blackcurrant buds adds a touch of of naughtiness, buttressed by honey and ambrette seeds, two essences that speak in intimate, hushed tones of lust and shared moments. A floral exalted into an animalic that can still behave, meowing its yearning. The slight hint of a dark chocolate edge presents itself throughout, something that puzzled me, as I suspected patchouli in minute amounts. Annette confirmed that indeed it is the green leaves of this exotic bush that mollify the floral notes and extend them. Paired with the classic vanilla-sandalwood-tonka accord, the base of Narcissus Poeticus is veering into the comforting. The version I have is ultra-smooth pure parfum (the new and improved version 2010, not her older composition) and the lasting power for an all-naturals fragrance is quite satisfactory, although don't expect it to outlast a spring day's welcome.
Notes for Narcissus Poeticus by Annette Neuffer: Head: Bergamot, Clementine, Tunisian Neroli, Violet Leaf, Galbanum Heart: French Narcissus Absolute, Tunisian Orange Flower Absolute, Indian Tuberose, Egyptian Jasmine*, Bulgarian Rose Otto* Base: Vanilla Absolute*, Mysore Sandalwood, Tonka Bean, Vegetal Musk
*certified organic, organically grown
Narcissus Poeticus by Annette Neuffer is only available through her site, Opulentals at NaturParfum.net For our readers, curious to experience this scent in pure parfum, a small decant will be given away to a lucky reader. Enter a comment and you're included in the draw Draw is now closed..
Painting The Loss of Virginity (or Spring Awakening) by Paul Gauguin via wikimedia commons. Pic of narcissi via ruhr-uni-bochum.de. In the interests of full disclosure I originally got to test the perfume through the perfumer herself.
Launched by Christian Dior in 1976, four years after the triumph of Diorella and composed by the same nose, the legendary Edmond Roudnitska, Dior-Dior was an astounding commercial flop resulting in its subsequent discontinuation and its firm positioning in the Pantheon of rarities.
It's hard to speculate après le deluge what exactly went wrong. Perhaps it was due to a discrepancy between zeitgeist and the character of the fragrance. By 1976 the advent of emancipated strident chypres as well as the progression from the hippy oils of the late 60s was not simpatico to a woody floral that had pared down the aromatic chypré piquancy of Diorella. And only fairly recently have woody florals for women known a slow resurgence with L'instant Magic, Bond no.9 Andy Warhol Silver Factory, Flower Oriental by Kenzo or the new Sensuous by Lauder and Magnifique by Lancôme.
However, it might also be attributed to the emerging ethos of the fledging perfume marketing: the importance of packaging and bottle being brought to focus much more assertively, the trade aspect getting seriously revved up, perfume being more of a lifestyle object than an objet d'art and copies of copies of things getting produced at a faster rate (although nothing like the alarming avalanche of more recent launches!). According to Edmond Roudnitska, this resulted in a «olfactive cacophony», lowering of quality and debasement of creativity:
The choice of a perfume can only rest on the competence acquired by education of olfactive taste, by intelligent curiosity and by a desire to understand the WHY and the HOW of perfume. Instead, the public was given inexactitudes and banalities. The proper role of publicity is to assist in the formation of connoisseurs, who are the only worthwhile propagandists for perfume, and it is up to the perfumers to enlighten, orient and direct the publicity agents.
~L'Intimité du Parfum (En collaboration) Olivier PERRIN Editeur, 1974 (availaible at "Sephora" on Champs-Elysées, Paris)
My small, houndstooth-patterned, vintage bottle has a very slightly bruised top note that is neverthless heavy on the indolic, intense aroma of narcissus and white florals, adding the patina of a well-worn, waxed floor with the remnants of cat pee in its cracks . Narcissus naturally extols this aspect, giving a distinctly feral impression which I personally love: from the leathery-laced Fleur de Narcisse by L'Artisan to the paperwhites note in Lovely by Sarah Jessica Parker. Mohammud called its scent "bread for the soul" and I can see why: taking in its heady emanation is on the border of pain, it's so intense!
Dior-Dior also serves as a commemorative recapitualtion of a perfumer's artistic path, a simile of olfactory soliloquy: A melon note which Roudnitska put in several of his perfumes (Le Parfum de Thérèse, Diorella) is discernible, although not in the context of the aquatic fragrances of the 90s: melon in a Roudnitska composition seems to serve as a memento of summery laughs in the autumnal mistiness that the chypre base juxtaposes. And the fresh jasmine odour of hedione/dihydrojasmonate, first copiously used by him in Eau Sauvage, leaps through, with its verdant, metallic cling-clang, puffing out small breathless sighs everytime I move my arms around; the sort of thing that would naturally mingle with the surroundings of white-washed windows and stucco-ed walls in places where iron rust feeds potted gardenias and people eat feta cheese alongside their watermelon. The last familiar touch comes from the lily of the valley accord that Roudnitska so intently masterminded for his soliflore apotheosis, Diorissimo. (Arguably the only hommage missing is the Prunol base of Femme and the peachy core of Diorama). Although all the above "notes" sound "clean", in Dior Dior they are neither freshly showered, nor vacuum-sealed. They breathe and deepen into a very feminine and quite urbane fragrance, far removed from Laura Ashley summer dresses, which persists on skin for hours.
For all its charm however Dior-Dior doesn't talk to me the way Roudnitska's more luminiscent creations, such as Diorella or Eau Sauvage, do. Perhaps it's just as well. Still, my bottle is poised alongside its sibling houndstoothed gems with its regal brow highly arched.
Notes: narcissus, muguet (lily of the valley), woods
Please state your interest if you want to be included in a draw for a sample of this rare fragrance.
Ad pic illustration by Rene Gruau courtesy of Fragrantica. Houndstooth bottle pic courtesy of Musée del Perfum.
L’artisan’s new Fleur de Narcisse brought to my mind something I had read a long time ago. Joan Julliet Buck, editor of French Vogue, was for years addicted to wearing a narcissus poeticus absolute. She used to wear one drop on each wrist, it being so concentrated that it was all she ever needed. “Two in the bath were enough to send silver running down the walls; it set the world throbbing out of control when I wore it. It became a little weird. It was only years later that I read that inhaling too much of it can make you mad”, she has been quoted to say.
Madness, poetry, out of control: in short both mythology and the damned poets of the 19th centrury. Fleur de narcisse does nothing conventionally pretty and is so heart achingly multifaceted to warrant elaborating.
Narcissus poeticus, the asphodel of Greek mythology, the flower of the underwold; of oblivion and perdition. And yet, the daffodil (the common name for its brother, the pseudonarcissus) is botanically-speaking a purported cure for madness.
Daffodil or “Lent Lily,” was once white; but Persephone, daughter of Demeter (Ceres), delighted to wander about the flowery meadows of Sicily. One spring-tide she tripped over the meadows, wreathed her head with wild lilies, and, throwing herself on the grass, fell asleep. The god of the Infernal Regions (called Pluto by the Romans), fell in love with the beautiful maid, and carried her off for his bride. His touch turned the white flowers to a golden yellow, and some of them fell in Acheron, the underworld river, where they grew luxuriantly; and ever since the flower has been planted on graves. Theophilus and Pliny tell us that the ghosts delight in the flower, called by themthe Asphodel. It was once called the Affodil. (French, asphodéle; Latin, asphodilus; Greek, asphodilos.)
Narcissus, also enters the associations; the greek mortal who fell in love with his youthful image as reflected in the clear waters of a pond. It was his punishment for rejecting so cruelly the nymph Écho. The best known version of the myth is contained in Metamorphoses by Ovid.
And then more aptly than anything else, Rimbaud’s poem “Le dormeur de Val” (Sleeper in the Valley) enters my head. Of course the poem was written about war and the sleeper is a dead soldier...The arresting imagery of this exquisite poem written at the tender age of 16 was what Fleur de Narcisse evoked in my mind immediately.
C'est un trou de verdure, où chante une rivière
Accrochant
follement aux herbes des haillons
D'argent; où le soleil, de la montagne
fière,
Luit: c'est un petit val qui mousse de rayons.
Un soldat jeune, bouche ouverte, tête nue,
Et la nuque
baignant dans le frais cresson bleu,
Dort; il est étendu dans l'herbe, sous
la nue,
Pâle dans son lit vert ou la lumière pleut.
Les pieds dans les glaïeuls, il dort. Souriant
comme
sourirait un enfant malade, il fait un somme:
Nature, berce-le
chaudement: il a froid.
Les parfums ne font pas frissonner sa narine.
Il dort dans
le soleil, la main sur sa poitrine
Tranquille. Il a deux trous rouges au côté
droit.
Spraying Fleur de Narcisse on the skin, the verdancy of rich vetiver married to pungent virile leather reminds me of the wet black earth and the oily old tar of a dirty forgotten road. Masculine soiled boots tread on a never ending journey through fields scattered with heady fatty asphodels into the great unknown. Poignant cries of the damned tear the heart strings. Sweet and salty grains of pollen fly into the air, reminding the joys of what cannot be had any more; the light, the sun, the warmth. Sad powder and wetness, warm cloth and cool dampened hopes; one last whiff of rich smoke before succumbing to the fate of us all...
Part of the new privée collection of millesime/harvests by L’artisan parfumeur, first of which was the crystalline floral Fleur d’Oranger made by Anne Flipo using the Tunisian orange blossom Vergers de Nabeul from the spring 2004 harvest and launching it in 2005.
This new one is also made by Anne Flipo using the exceptional harvest of narcissus blossoms from the volcanic area of Lozère, part of the Languedoc-Roussillon region in southern France during the days of June 6th and 7th of 2005.
The official notes are: narcissus, hay, hyacinth, blond tobacco, iris, blackcurrant bud, moss and leather.
Released as a limited edition in only 3000 numbered bottles of Eau de parfum 100ml encased in wooden boxes like a fine vintage of wine, foiled with silk paper, the bottle engraved with narcissus flowers, it will retail for 240 euros which is around 300$. Exorbitant price for sure, but narcissus poeticus is an extremely costly ingredient anyway.
Available fromFirst in fragrance/Aus liebe zum duft in Europe as we speak and soon in the US in November at L’Artisan Parfumeur Soho, Henri Bendel, and Madison Avenue boutiques, select retailers and the L'artisan boutique on-line.
Pic is "La Metamorphose of Narcisse" by Salvador Dali courtesy of perso.orange.fr
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