Showing posts with label oriental. Show all posts
Showing posts with label oriental. Show all posts

Thursday, November 14, 2019

Guerlain Mon Guerlain Eau de Parfum: fragrance review

Mon Guerlain does not dare veer into the animalic, like its forerunners  Guerlain Jicky and Guerlain Shalimar do; this is the first thing one needs to watch for. The propensities of today do not allow hints of bodily odor emerging, nor would they allow the weird opening of Jicky which sometimes comes across as vaporized petrol. Instead, Mon Guerlain veers into the caramelic, with a rum & hay ambience, a "toffee" accord, which embraces the Carla lavender flower from Provence and renders it soft and pliable. After all, the starting point for perfumer Thierry Wasser was the vanillic accord, not the other way around. Was it a genius idea prompted by him? In a way. But not entirely.
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There are several nuances lavender can take. A decade back, when I was describing the main odor constituents of Fragrantica's vast notes database one by one, I came up with the short form of "an aromatic clean note, medicinal on one end and licorice-like on the other end", and I stand by my description to this day. Hermès was the first to exploit this duality fully, thanks to Jean Claude Ellena's idea of a quintessential blend of exquisite lavender wrapped in licorice in Brin de Reglisse (in the boutique exclusives line), therefore the mischievous reconstruction of an olfactory symbol of the South of France reinvented by the gourmet touch of a ribbon of licorice. “Dressed in mat black, a magnified lavender, memory and landscape…”  
Nowadays, it is the vanillic and licorice nuanced lavenders which are featured in any product that aims to appeal to women or women buying for babies and children. To wit, most children's products for the bath and body which claim "relaxing lavender" are mostly featuring a blend of musk with vanilla and abstract notes of extraterrestrial flowers grown on the moon; lily of the valley, jasmine and delicate, unreal roses. And this explains the divide that lavender produces; some people love the medicinal properties they have come to know from real lavender, some people abhor them, confused by the artificial construct that is advertised as "lavender" but really isn't. 
If we insist in our path with Guerlain's Mon Guerlain, and in direct juxtaposition with their classic lavender-laced Jicky, one can certainly see how over a century of fragrance production has seismically shifted the notion of lavender in general. From an animal-laced beast into a vanillic comforting cocoon for women who love their desserts, but don't want to be seen stuffing their mouths with it. 
There's something sexy about making one's self feel good about themselves, giving them the confidence to be themselves, to inhabit their skin, and maybe that's the root of the concept of comfy notes producing claims to sexiness and attraction. Mon Guerlain is in that direction, although to my more daring tastes, close but no cigar...

Very pretty (classic) bottle nevertheless!

Further Reading on the PerfumeShrine:
Guerlain news & fragrance reviews
Perfumer Thierry Wasser

Wednesday, December 5, 2018

Caron Parfum Sacre Intense eau de parfum: fragrance review

Back when I was a teenager I developed a strong belief that "real" perfume was supposed to harken to its oriental roots and smell of the East; or at least what my west-laden eyes of the mind imagined a mythical East to be like. Parfum Sacre (sacred perfume, the quintessential notion of eastern scent), launched in 1991, at the cusp of the transition into the blander part of mainstream perfumery after a clashing cacophony of too many loud perfumes worn all together in the 1980s, and it sort of flopped commercially. But it was such a good execution that they have kept it. And when the Parfum Sacre Intense version rolled over by Parfums Caron in 2010 I admit I was greatly intrigued.

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There was a 1925 fragrance called Mystikum, by perfume Scherk, tagged "the mystery of flowers" of all things, and accompanied by a full range of body products in the coming years, but surely the name would fit Caron's perfume perfectly as well.

via

I own a quite large decant of Caron's Parfum Sacre Intense (more like a purse spray), and I should quickly upgrade to a full bottle, but each time I use it I feel like a goddess on a pedestal, receiving rites of peppery spices and rosy sacrifices upon a sacrificial altar, while myrrh fills the atmosphere with the solemnity of religion. The myrrh is especially warm, bittersweet, with no powdery after-effects, so it doesn't project as "clean" or "groomed" rather than sombre and liturgical, but it's the alliance of spicy rose with musk which makes the real message of devotion to a higher being. For once, rose sheds its prim guise and reveals a throbbing heart full of thorns.

I dig this kind of ritual and therefore Parfum Sacre Intense aims for the sweet spot. Touchée.



I just wish they hadn't changed the bottle, from the glorious deep purple with the peppercorns into the blander columnar ones they have used when revamping the line a couple of years ago...


Monday, October 8, 2018

Calvin Klein Obsession for Men: fragrance review

Back in the old days, when Calvin Klein was a bona fide designer house and the fragrances weren't made by Coty, the churning of smells was set on the decidedly loud end of the spectrum, and on the rather creative side as well. This was the decade of Dallas and Dynasty, of shoulder pads that pushed you over on the ladder to the corporate top, when women started to bring back home the bacon in earnest ("and fry it on a pan") and when the tip-toeing of perfume wearing in public spaces was only considered far-fetched dystopian sci-fi.


Obsession (for women, 1985) and Obsession for men (1986) were the natural products of such a period. Loud, brash, gold jewelry statement, knock-your-socks-off scents, full of the inherited warmth of their French counterparts (the success of the Opium perfume by Yves Saint Laurent fresh on the collective memory), but very American in their stylized presentation. And who could forget those infamous advertisements with the naked bodies standing atop a hammock in black and white, shot by Bruce Weber? Ann Gottlieb, creative director for Klein fragrances and responsible for countless commercial hits for countless brands, had demanded "sexy with a touch of raunchiness" and possibly, as it has been argued, got the balance reversed. But that's not a bad thing.


The person credited with the creation of Obsession for Men, a certain Robert Slattery, unaccredited for anything else, got the raunchy and sexy in spades by relying on the tension between trustworthy materials: mandarin on top contrasting with warm amber on the bottom, nutmeg and cinnamon spicing it up, giving a certain piquancy which recalls a man-made space somewhere in the late 80s, early 90s; gregarious, evening-time, where people smoke and drink freely, and where confident men in lots of aftershave prowl for the casual encounters of the evening, their own clean sweat mingled with the adrenaline of the flirting. It was a happier time, a less controlled time, and a time when anything seemed possible. Or, perhaps, it was a time when we felt ready for anything.

Obsession for Men in its current format feels watered down and lacking that density which sealed its unmistakable presence, but it still is a great trip down memory lane.

Friday, February 23, 2018

Serge Lutens Chergui: Hay Heaven-Fragrance Review

Oddly enough, though I love both orientals and Serge Lutens fragrances on the whole, both of which I own a rather significant collection, I rarely reach for Chergui. I attribute this to its not finding it challenging enough or wistful enough; Lutens fragrances in particular either lure me with their pensive, introspective mode (Iris Silver Mist, Douce Amere, L'Orpheline and La Myrrhe...) or with their exultation of taking a chosen artistic direction to its natural apex (Fleurs d'oranger, El Attarine, Arabie, Sarrasins and Tubereuse Criminelle...). Chergui nevertheless enjoys the kind of popularity that makes me revisit it at disjointed timeposts...when something new and terrifying lies in the horizon or when I'm particularly congratulatory of a penitent interval.


Lutens promises the exoticism of the east with Chergui (ascending from the name onwards...) but delivers a quite restrained composition that is not too challenging. It melds with the skin and complements it, plus it's mildly sweet (very popular with modern audiences) and subtly powdery like a greige sweater that's comfy enough to hide one's melancholia behind.

The Lutensian story behind the fragrance is certainly highly visual:

"A fire fanned by the wind, a desert in flames. As if bursting from the earth, Chergui, a desert wind, creates an effect that involves suction more than blowing, carrying plants, insects and twigs along in an inescapable ascent. Its full, persistent gusts crystallize shrubs, bushes and berries, which proceed to scorch, shrivel up and pay a final ransom in saps, resins and juices. Night falls on a still-smoldering memory, making way for the fragrant, ambery and candied aromas by the alchemist that is Chergui."

The facet which is dominating on my skin is the coumarin (what we refer to as mown hay). Indeed hay absolute plays a prominent role in the composition, but it's still pertinent to stress that on my skin Chergui by Lutens is not a pipe tobacco dream oriental with masculine proclivities as sometimes described, but a cuddly roll in the hay that sticks on you for long after the deed. It's soft and warm and lasts for a full 48 hours, which is quite impressive and a good recommendation for people who have longevity issues with fragrances in general.



It has been remarked upon before but the shift from the rather medicinal opening (in the older formula) into the fluffier hay core is a point of tension. It's the one and major change that happens in a fragrance that remains mostly linear on my skin. Still it presents its own "a ha!" moment.

Chergui by Serge Lutens is dry, befitting the name but at once lush and dense, and it brings to mind a certain opacity to the proceedings which is typical for most Lutens fragrances, which could be easily attributed to an oriental character; even the florals! Chergui is redolent of oil paintings by Dutch masters, somber yet textured, and as if you can taste it. I find this a quality that resonates with Lutens buyers and therefore Chergui is probably a safe purchase.

Thursday, September 14, 2017

Tauer Perfumes L'Air du Desert Marocain: fragrance review

So many of the fragrances inspired by lands steeped in spices and resins are redolent of the souk, of man made territories that ultimately take on a carte postale quality, so prone to the disillusionments of reality when one has been relying on armchair travelling leafing through Traveller and encyclopaedias. L'Air du Desert Marocain is different, because, rather than a man-infested territory, it evokes an expanse of land where the borders of orange-red skies and dry land mingle in the horizon making you feel as if you've glimpsed eternity for a split second.

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It's hard to describe this Andy-Tauer-made marvel in a few words; it's both woody and animalic, floral and ambery oriental, all at once. The trademark ambreine that Tauer uses is very discernible, given the intensity of what feels like natural jasmine, or maybe a euphoric mingling of white flowers that recalls the orange trees which give welcome solace to the Moroccan traveler.

There are fragrances which you spray and go on about your day. This isn't one of them. The torrid complexity of dry heat, arid spice, sweet rosiness and deep, plush resinous notes which recall ancient pharmacopoeia, is capable of clearing a room if you're overzealous with the sprayer. But use it with tempered self-discipline and you can enjoy its luminous depths for days on end, on your skin as well as your clothes.

A single bottle will last you beyond your last will and testament. Very few fragrances can claim to deliver such tremendous value for money.

Wednesday, July 5, 2017

Serge Lutens Arabie: fragrance review

Arabie is a virtual stroll amidst the exotic Al Halili bazaar at noon, rows and rows of succulent dried fruits and colorful, piquant, pungent spices; a kaleidoscopic vision seen in vermilion and saffron red. Women and men could get entangled in its nectarous, densely woven web, especially when the weather is cool and the mood is festive.

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Temperamentally sweet, luminous, golden, reminiscent of fruit & spice compotes and as mysterious as the East itself, Arabie is a sinfully rich fragrance for those who are not afraid to get their fingers inside the cookie jar!

Created in 2000.
Fragrance Family: Oriental Spicy

Top notes: candied mandarin, dried fig, dates.
Heart: cardamom, nutmeg, cumin, bay leaf, clove.
Base: Tonka bean, Siamese benzoin, myrrh.

Tuesday, January 31, 2017

Fendi Theorema: fragrance review

Now that perfumer Christine Nagel is at the helm of Hermès, looking back on her work for various brands reveals her core aesthetics; at once saturated and filled with light, like a Joseph M.W. Turner painting that foreshadows what's to come, namely Impressionism. Judging by her newest Eau de Rhubarbe Ecarlate and Galop, this heftiness-shot-with-brightness continues the sun path to its natural apex.
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With Fendi's Theorema, Italian for theorem, a proposition that has been proven to be true based on previously established statements, Nagel has taken a theme and brought it into its culmination. Namely the "Oriental perfume" that feels as comforting as nibbling chocolate by the fire, while at the same time retaining the plush luxury and sophistication that a proper womanly perfume fit for the salon should exude.

Fendi's Theorema, inexplicably discontinued much too soon (at least before the brand discontinued its entire line in order to bring out the newest project on the shelves) and at least as clamored for a resurrection as Laura Biagotti's Venezia, opens with the delectable alliance of orange and chocolate. The effect of the former is apparently accounted by two unusual citruses: tangelos and thai samuti. The chocolate is folded with sweet spices, amber and warm milky woods, such as sandalwood and rosewood; there's none of the austerity that woody notes usually provide. A touch of a classic, orientalized bouquet of flowers (orange blossom, ylang ylang, jasmine) gives just a tinge of ladylike proclivities. But Theorema is too good to stay on the ladies alone...and is extremely ripe for a resurrection as well.

Wednesday, December 21, 2016

Serge Lutens Fumerie Turque: fragrance review

Fumerie Turque (Turkish smoking salon) is one of the most majestic scents amidst the Serge Lutens impressive line-up of orientalise compositions that draw upon the vast tradition of the Middle East and its specific languor of the senses. It evokes the honeyed, rich tobacco blends which the Seljuk sultans reserved for their seraglios overlooking the Bosporus, the narguilé blends warming up with milky, rosy substances added to prolong the languorous enjoyment, the hour of contemplation.



Lutens and his perfumer, Chris Sheldrake, created an autumnal oriental for sensualists, men and women who appreciate the tender, soft embrace of a leather-lined guest salon, where the smell of sumptuous balsams, rich tobacco, dried fruits and honeyed rose loukhoums waft from across the canopied beds of the harem.

Its scent never fails to make me yearn for inchoate habits I never indulged, traditions which call upon a far heritage passed on by generations, and of lands which are never as far as away as imagined, but instead lie within a day's reach. Fumerie Turque is my personal piercingly erotic dare to the deceptively familiar.

Thursday, November 17, 2016

Keiko Mecheri Myrrhe et Merveilles: fragrance review

When it comes to Keiko Mecheri's Myrrhe et Merveilles the thrill of the unexpected in meeting myrrh in a modern formula is fractured into a thousand pieces. La Myrrhe by Serge Lutens just had it for lunch. For a long time I felt that the Mecheri line followed the Lutensian opus a bit too closely for comfort; it felt like glorified duping and if one is going that way why not admit it... I thought. But thankfully testing and retesting for the purposes of really getting an education on myrrh, I saw the error of my ways and finally came to appreciate this Mecheri fragrance for what it is: a luxurious and somewhat aloof soapy myrrh; one which showcases the element quite well without the mushroom earthiness of La Myrrhe.

by Taras Loboda, Ukrainian painter, 1961 via

If you squeeze your eyes a bit and look at it that way, Myrrhe et Merveilles might start giving you impressions of classic YSL Opium. It's only a slice of its hot iron hiss on a white starched shirt but it's plenty. The floral heart is rather spicy like carnations and almond blossoms smothered in musk. The musk is so prominent that the compoisition feels silken. Powdery almost. The "merveilles" (i.e. wonders) manifest themselves through the details, but they're enough to differentiate it from its mystical predecessor.

If your track record in orientals is good so far Myrrhe et Merveilles can only enhance it. 

Wednesday, November 16, 2016

Serge Lutens La Myrrhe: fragrance review

Frankincense is met at the church as the censer spreads the fragrant smoke in the congregation. Myrrh is met at asketaria; monastic places of anchorites who end up their days exuding the smell of sanctity...or so witnesses say. In the iconoclastic La Myrrhe by Serge Lutens myrrh takes center stage given a centripental force spin which makes you lean your neck all the way up to there to just observe the gracious arc before it plunges into bittersweet soap¨aldehydes play their part with bravado. The overlaying accents of mandarin and honeyed notes melt's La Myrrhe's bitter resinous heart into the illusion of prettiness. When in fact it's a compellingly strange study in contrasts.

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The word "demon" (δαίμων) means spirit or divine power replete with knowledge in classical Greek mythology; at least up to the Neo-Platonics. Hence Socrates's famous claim of "being true to his inner demonium" and Diotema's lesson to him in Plato's Symposium that "love is a greater demon". Is myrrh therefore a demon? An entity between material (mortal) and spirit (divine knowledge)?

Myrrh is indeed someplace between the two; its very nature bears this duality. On the one side a numbing of the senses; a narcotic hedone that lulls the pain. On the other a scourging bitterness that reminds us of the pain of life. Two isomers that share the same structure arranged in different ways; two faces of Janus.
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Lutens and his perfumer sidekick Christopher Sheldrake were therefore the first to showcase the Janus-like nature of myrrh for all its worth in their epoch making creation. Experiencing La Myrrhe takes multiple uses to savor the bittersweet elements and the waxy-aldehydic shimmer that glistens upon skin application. I very much doubt I was fully aware of the complexity and irony built into it when zooming on the reddish liquid and paying for it that momentous time back. It must have been pure instinct or the patron saint of perfumery St. Magdalene who guided my young hand; it was my very first "bell jar" out of the purple seraglio in the Palais Royal and it marked me with its duality ever since.

Wednesday, December 2, 2015

Annick Goutal Les Absolus 1001 Ouds: fragrance review

Not unfittingly I had waited till I had written my articles on myrrh resin before writing my full perfume review of the latest Annick Goutal 1001 Ouds fragrance in the Les Absolus range. That's because rather than being a fully fledged oud/aoudh fragrance this oriental elixir features myrrh in a key player position.

photo Vitor Schietti

The trend for oudh has been going strong and every brand has embraced the innovations of the fragrance industry. Some say this particular trend is an unpardonable sin (and indeed only Chanel seems impervious to the flummox as of this moment) so an oud-centric perfume from Annick Goutal did not spell optimism in my heart of hearts. Especially as the combination of oudh with rose has been the hallmark of tried and tested combinations surgically transplanted from Middle Eastern perfumery -where they thrive in local blends- and then watered down for western usage.
Nevertheless 1001 Ouds in Les Absolus d'Annick Goutal managed to not fulfill the desire for apostasy that ran in the back of my mind. Two key ingredients which are featured in a clever way by perfumer composer Isabel Doyen are responsible for the rekindled interest.

Myrrh resin, bittersweet and poignant, is restraining the stomping boots of the oudh note. Thankfully as most contemporary oudh compositions, lacking the complexity of a traditional oudh perfume essence, run the risk of coming across as rather aggressive (the dreaded Band Aid note) and a little too invasive, like a stranger in leather gear on public transport making intense eye contact out of the blue. The woody effect given by papyrus wood is slightly smoky, the feel of a distant campfire rather than having the barbecue right on the lawn.

Rose phobics or those who do like rose but dread the engulfing tentacles of it when combined with usual suspects sandalwood or oudh in an Arabian setting need not be scared. The rose in 1001 Ouds by Annick Goutal is providing a softened, mellowed bridge between the more challenging ingredients, polishing the corners and smoothening the edges. This well known perfumers' trick works especially well here; one doesn't really discern the rose, only the humming warmth and glow that resembles a copper-toned lipstick on an olive skinned lady.

As might be suspected by the notes 1001 Ouds leans to the shared fragrances side of the spectrum and men and women alike would enjoy it without problems. In fact the creative team at Annick Goutal present the Les Absolus trio as a lovers' shared sensuous experience and they couldn't be closer to the truth. These are warm, soft, enveloping fragrances to share with those you cherish the most.

As with the rest of Les Absolus, beautiful presentation, demanding prices.

Related reading on Perfume Shrine:
Annick Goutal fragrance reviews and news
Oud/Aoudh/Agarwood: perfume raw material
Les Absolus d'Annick Goutal: perfume reviews 

Tuesday, March 25, 2014

Providence Perfume Samarinda: fragrance review

Samarinda was an unexpected surprise in my mailbox replete with an eco-benefit (more on which below) and it was a pleasant one which prompted this review. Independent perfumers come with the benefit of being able to both experiment with no concern of focus groups and with the passion that comes with doing what you believe you should do instead of what you know you should do in order to sell well. Not that artisanal perfumers are beyond the scope of a true business, if they have leaped off the amateur description concocting elixirs in their back kitchen, but you know what I mean; wouldn't you rather have someone disregard trends, likability stakes, IFRA restrictions and focus on what seems "like a good idea, let's try it out and see"? Charna Ethier of Providence Perfume Co. is one such.


Ethier is a botanical perfumer, working with natural essences and what I believe are extractions from materials not common in mainstream (and even niche) perfumery, such as choya nakh, a roasted seashell  essence which is truly unique and which I personally find captivating thanks to its evocation of the animalic marine world. Samarinda is using this essence, alongside many others which initially seem incongruous (the above mentioned choya nakh side by side with Sumatran coffee alongside jasmine rice, oakwood, leather, rum ether and flowers), but the blend is quite astonishingly tempered and uplifting. The cardamom note on top is so fitting to coffee that it transports me instantly to a warm morning sipping a demitasse in a middle-eastern setting. But there's further along the map that this perfume can take us…

The sweetish floriental has a delectable boozy (richly rum-like for armchair travelers on the high seas seeking pearls in oysters down the depths of the Indian Ocean) and a lightly smoky vibe which engulfs you with none of the intensely floral  -and then magically dissipating- pong of some all natural perfumes. Maybe the choice to do an orientalized take on Indonesia, as Samarinda aimed to do, is a wise choice olfactory-speaking, or maybe Ethier came up with just the right balance in her palette; the result is that Samarinda is a joy to wear on skin from the lightly spicy, juicy opening with its vanillic underpinning right down to the  smoky-warm woods of the drydown. It's certainly smelling better than actual Indonesia with its yeasty trail in the air.

And what's the eco-benefit? 5% of all sales of Samarinda will be donated to the World Wildlife Fund to promote the protection efforts in Borneo and Sumatra, home of hundreds of endangered rhinos, tigers, elephants and orangutans and thousands of identified and as yet unidentified plants.

In the interests of disclosure, I was sent a sample vial by the perfumer directly. 

Wednesday, January 22, 2014

Teo Cabanel Barkhane: fragrance review & free perfume draw

There are generally speaking three directions on amber, that perfumery trope which although reminiscent of alembicated elixirs derives in reality from the late 19th century and its advances in chemistry. Roughly, much like human body types, there is the thick-set endomorph, vanillic and zaftig amber, often powdery but a little too snuggly the way a favorite aunt suffocated you as a child when she tried to hug you; there's the linear ectomorph, naturally rail-thin and giving only a hint of an oriental, fit for people who consider sipping a latte as having the equivalent of a dessert orgy only the calories fly off their cage-like backs (Marc Jacobs Amber Splash I'm looking at you); and finally the elusively callipygean mesomorph, its discovery as awe inspiring as the realization of the protagonist in They Live, an amber that's got to be extra-terrestrial, since there's no other explanation for its perfect, almost perverse precision and special abilities.
photo by Francesco Middei for National Geographic via Pinterest (Namibia sand dune)

Some of my favorite ambers belong to that last category, managing the trick via either a generous helping of herbal accents (Ambre Sultan by Lutens is the crowning example) or a devious splattering of incense notes, via frankincense or myrrh (Ambra del Nepal or Angelique Encens are decent examples.)        

Barkhane belongs to this special category, a foudroyant amber perfume both thanks to its transparent treatment of the labdanum (cistus)-vanillin pairing and the bittersweet myrrh resin which illuminates it the way vitraux illuminate a cathedral. From a distance Barkhane suggests repetition, since Alahine (Cabanel's 2007 fragrance) was also a terrific amber. But it is not, since it lacks the rosy floralcy and the woody element, as perfumer Jean-Francois Latty here focused instead on the introduction of a tempered oud note which tilts it into the slightly medicinal, more masculine or unisex territory. There is also a notable spicy component (reportedly built on cumin and curry notes) which melds with the myrrh.

Last but not least: the lasting power is phenomenal for something so well balanced and, yes, at its fighting weight.

Barkhane is the latest fragrance by niche French brand Teo Cabanel, re-introduced recently in the States and repackaged to new heights of luxury under the direction of heiress Caroline Ilacqua. The fragrance's name derives from the naturalist Alexander von Middendorf, who used it to describe "the smooth velvety dunes which gently ripple under powerful desert winds".

I have a self-bought* large sample for one lucky reader in Europe/rest of the world. If you're in the USA, thanks to Hypoluxe Inc.'s generosity, there's the option of one BIG 1/2oz spray for ONE lucky winner and 15 sample vials for 15 more winners. 
Please enter a comment saying your opinion on amber fragrances and if you have a favorite/Kryptonite one and please state whether you're in Europe/USA/rest of the world. 
Draw is open till Thursday midnight, winners to be announced sometime on Friday.
(*The company did send me another one for reviewing purposes)

Tuesday, December 3, 2013

Arte di Profumi Harem Soiree: fragrance review

The ember glow of a dying fire shining through the window of the yalı, the iodine assault of intensely animalic ingredients brought in by the breeze, medicinal unguents resting atop a mahogany shelf at the darüşşifa, eroticism beyond coy or playful, an arrow heading straight to the heart, drama unfolded in one astounding act. The prelude of an unforgettable moment. Far too wild to be tamed and loaded with panache, its presence is unmistakeable. Its name? Harem Soirée.


Mala Fatra, Slovakia, 1963, Vilem Heckel. Czech (1918 - 1970)
via

Harem means the forbidden and beyond the feverished Western Europeans'* dreams of physical love conducted in exotic locales of Eastern promise, it signified the living quarters of the Sultan and his family during the Ottoman rule, a place where no access was granted to outsiders.
[*such as J.A.D.Ingres, Pierre Loti or Lord Byron]

Harem Soirée is tied to ambergris (all Arte di Profumi Roma fragrances have a "star" ingredient featured on the label) but that's clearly not the whole story. Besides being profoundly animalic, the daring scent is full of the concentrated essence of labdanum, with only a very distant hint of that other "amber" ingredient, vanilla. The treatment of this iconic oriental chord is pitch black, resinous smelling, dark as the cloth of the night, dangerous and medicinal as if stemming from prophylactic pharmacopeia, vaguely reminiscent in mood of Ambre Sultan, but even darker and denser with bittersweet myrrh; cuffs of lead rather than iron. Its very austere and dramatic character, with no concessions to the fruity bowl or the dessert trolley, make Harem Soirée a perfect backdrop for discerning gentlemen or women with the rush of adventure fanning their wings.

The name is referencing the shows put by women dancers as well as the 1999 Turkish film by the same name (Harem Suare).

The perfume along the rest of the Arte di Profumi Roma line is available from Jovoy Paris and Ausliebezumduft online.


Thursday, November 28, 2013

Givenchy Ysatis: fragrance review & history & free perfume giveaway

Ysatis remains among the most memorable perfume launches of my childhood, alongside Cacharel's Loulou, mainly due to the commercial that accompanied it, much like Faure's dreamy Pavane did for the latter. In the Greek version, a marvelously sonorous, rhyming phrase was able to be coined for the launch, a fact that would be difficult to accomplish in any other language:  "Αναζητείς το Υζαντίς" it went (a-na-zee-TEES toh ee-sah-TEES), roughly meaning that the love-struck male that would smell it would be forever seeking the source of the fragrant Ysatis. It does lend one to daydreaming, doesn't it. Especially to an impressionable, already obsessed with perfumes, mind such as mine, back in 1984.
The reality, as is often the case with perfumes, is far more prosaic: Jean Courtiere, president of Parfums Givenchy, came up with the name, while searching ~as is the formal naming process~ for something non copyrighted, non insulting in any known language and mellifluous enough to be catchy. Ysatis it was and it stuck.


The story

I also vividly recall that Ysatis was accompanied by images of carnival, chess board games and Venetian masks, a fact that I mistakenly attributed it to the masterminds at the advertising company borrowing heavily from the Venezia by Laura Biagiotti popularity, at its apex during the early 1990s, but it looks like it was done in reverse. (disregard the art school project ones posing as authentic). Accurately enough, my memory is as it should be: not only is the architectural Art-Deco-meets-skyscraper bottle of Ysatis posing as a chess piece itself, the commercial is set to a scene from the Venetian carnival (to the succeeding scoring of Hendel's Sarabande, immortalized in Kubrick's Barry Lynton, and of Folias d'Espagna by Arcangelo Corelli): the intrigued, love-struck man in question is seeking the glamorous, 1940s vague-coiffed and 1980s made-up woman behind the mask, the truth behind the glamorous facade. It all stood as very impressive and to this day I think they involuntarily captured a huge part of perfume's intellectual appeal; what is it that makes us want to peel the layers off a person like the beige-purple petticoats off an onion?

I'm relaying all these very personal associations to drive to the fact that Parfums Givenchy had a nice, long-standing tradition in my house, as my grandfather was a devotee of Givenchy Gentleman (1974), my mother occasionally dabbed from Givenchy III (1970) and my father had an amorous relationship with Xeryus (1986) many moons ago. So falling for Ysatis wasn't far fetched at all and taking in mind the first perfume I bought with my pocket money was YSL Opium, it seemed like a natural enough progression into the abyss into perfume appreciation. In fact the fragrance was so popular in Greece that a local fashion "chain" is still named after it.

Searching for this perfume these past couple of days I come across Ysatis advertised as "the perfume of power". But this is not what it stood for for me. Perceptions have significantly changed and we're not the creatures we were in the 1980s, when everything seemed possible, even gassing out everyone in the room with one's scent fumes, but Ysatis, poised as it is between three categories (floral, oriental and chypre) in its complex formula, has the tremendous force to evoke a time when one felt untouchable.
It sounds rather perverse and morbid choice for a teen, but I kinda think I was morbid all along. We did listen to lots of Joy Division and Cure and Siouxie & the Banshees and read Poe poems and gothic tales, so I suppose it wasn't just me.

The scent of Ysatis 

The main fragrance story of Givenchy Ysatis is unfolded in pummeling, sultry and creamy smelling essences of orange flower, ylang ylang and tuberose, brightened by the citrusy but sweetish oil of mandarin and chased by animal fragrance notes (smells like heaps of civet to me and there's also castoreum) and some spice in the base (the unusual for a feminine fragrance bay rum as well as clove). It's pretty "whoa, what the hell hit me?" at any rate. Like Gaia, The Non Blonde, says: "Ysatis is not for the meek or those still figuring out their style and taste". Word. If you have liked and worn Organza (also by Givenchy) in the 1990s, or Cacharel Loulou, and Ubar by Amouage, you have high chances of claiming Ysatis with the clinging tenderness usually reserved for Nutella jars.

Ysatis was composed by Dominique Ropion, maker of such ebullient, expansive fragrances as Amarige, Pure Poison, Carnal Flower, Portrait of a Lady, Une Fleur de Cassie, Alien, RL Safari, Flowerbomb or Kenzo Jungle, among many many others.




Ysatis has been reformulated and repackaged, though not ruined in the process; it's till Amazonian and lusciously haute bourgeois. Still if you're searching for the older formula, it comes in the black box vs. the newer purple one. The original bottles even read Ysatis de Givenchy. There is also a flanker, Ysatis Iris, also in a purple box, though that one has a purple hued bottle as well and of course the moniker "Iris" just below the name. Still, keep a sharp eye when shopping, as it's a rather different scent (focusing on violet & iris note sandwiched between the citrusy top and floriental bottom).

I have a generous miniature of vintage Ysatis for a lucky winner. Please state in the comments what was your favorite 1980s scent and what scents you'd like to see featured in the Underrated Perfume Day feature on Perfume Shrine. Draw is open internationally till Sunday midnight and winner will be announced sometime on Monday.

For more entries and fragrance reviews of Underrated Perfumes please click on the link and scroll.


Thursday, July 25, 2013

Penhaligon's Vaara: fragrance review & free perfume atomiser giveaway

Had I been blindfolded while testing the latest Penhaligon's fragrance, Vaara, I would have immediately proclaimed "Bertrand Duchaufour" upon released and that wouldn't be in some erotic rapture 50 Shades of Grey perfume style, but in familiar recognition of the perfumer's patte all over the perfume. Is this a bad thing? Read on please, dear reader.

Duchaufour, like Jean Claude Ellena, moves his accords and ideas around, exploring them, revisiting, pushing them to their natural and unnatural limits all the time; on one level, the hallmark of a true artist. Whereas Ellena has the luxury of doing it within the context of one company, since his in-house tenure at Hermès, Duchaufour seems at the flummox of some orgasmic productivity; to map out the sheer volume of the man's creations in the last 5 years alone would take a considerable effort worthy of an ultra-conscientious librarian. And whereas some of them are questionable in their repercussions, the end result is usually what we perfume aficionados refer to -favorably- as a "transparent oriental perfume", namely a composition that can't be faulted for being too thick or dense to be wearable under the most casual of moods, nor the most refined of occasions.

Vaara by Penhaligon's is one such thing, a very deftly aerated meringue of a scent, uniting a lightly gourmand scent impression with rose, like a loukoum nugget. A moutwatering effect which has prompted originaldeftdom on Fragrantica to liken Duchaufour to Heston Blumenthal. Of course Duchaufour is no stranger to this alliance of true minds: rose and saffron is a classic Middle-Eastern and Indian combination (rose is making a comeback as a perfume note of late anyway) and the well-known perfumer has explored the lightly suede/leather-smelling facets of the precious stamens when used with rose in both Traversée du Bosphore for L'Artisan Parfumeur as well as in Mohur by Neela Vermeire Creations previously. (It is important to note that this is an interpretation far removed from the mossy-chypre and more aggressive Agent Provocateur eau de parfum which also explores the accord of saffron & rose).
Indeed many of the official notes are, if not the same, then quite close in all three compositions by the sleight-handed Bertrand (for instance the carrot seed note, referenced in Mohur too reflects the iris, ambrette is a kind of musk, the edible, lightly fruity çay note from Traversée gets a quince jelly treatment here, quince being close to apple and so on...). At least the geographical direction points the compass consistently to the East; near or far, it doesn't matter much to the Parisian and the Londoner who flock to buy Duchaufour's creations. Of course the press release goes on and on about the travels that Duchaufour has gone to, to get inspired by India in all its glory. (At this rate, he must know the area like the palm of his hand by now!)

the quirky Bertrand and the suave Maharaja (don't you just love the turquoise jacket)

The name Vaara means both "blessing" and "breeze" and stands for the granddaughter of His Highness Maharaja Gaj Singh II; the perfume was commissioned to celebrate her birth and the family’s love for the city of Jodhpur and was inspired by the Royal House of Marwar-Jodhpur in Rajasthan, India. For the launch, earlier in July, the Penhaligon's boutique in London was filled with images of Jodpur to mirror the chronology of the journey, the fragrance profiling room turned into a Rajasthani spice market with drawings from perfumer Bertrand Duchaufour’s notebook, photos taken at the market and the raw ingredients of Vaara.

The quince and coriander are the dominant allies to the rose-saffron accord in Penhaligion's Vaara scent and enhance it without drowning it. The lightly sweetish message after the top note has dissipated, warm and skin-scent-like is quite delicious with no screech from the flower notes (peony and freesia, two synthetically recreated "notes" are often a culprit).

Vaara despite the repetition of themes and the cliché exotic promo isn't just bon pour l'Orient. It's bon, period.

Notes for Vaara by Penhaligon's:
Top: quince, rose water, carrot seeds, coriander seed and saffron.
Heart: Moroccan rose absolute, Bulgarian rose oil, freesia, Indian magnolia, iris and peony
Base: honey, white musk, cedarwood, sandalwood, benzoin resin and tonka bean.

Available at Penhaligon's boutiques and online at 85 GBP for 50ml/1.7oz of Eau de Parfum, 120 GBP for 100ml/3.4oz.

  For our readers, I have a generous and sleek travel atomiser of Penhaligon's Vaara for one lucky winner. Draw is open internationally till Friday 27th midnight. Winner to be announced in the weekend. Enter a comment to be eligible.

Related reading on Perfume Shrine: Leather scents, Best Rose fragrances & scented delights, Bertrand Duchaufour perfumes.

In the interests of disclosure, I was sent the sample for reviewing purposes by the company.


Wednesday, February 20, 2013

Thierry Mugler Alien Essence Absolue: fragrance review

The fragrance lurking inside the intensely yellow container of Alien Essence Absolue, that weird-looking bottle that looks like a pear mutated via the pollination of gold giant insects from outer space, is stimulating and totally unexpected with a softness, deepness and sexiness I didn't think possible.
Or did I?


The best attributes of the original, jasmine-typhoon Alien are kept. Faithfully. The intense longevity on skin, the radiance (minus the projection that extends to a 4-mile radius—this one is a little closer to the skin), the heart of surreal white flowers that seem as they're syphoned through a Space Age desert tent full of all the trappings of Arabia...

And yet Alien Essence Absolue brings on a warm embrace of amber, vanilla and incense that mollify the hard edge of that bright high-tech jasmine core. This newer version highlights the vanilla and bittersweet incense note over the rather more licorice-rich facets of the original Alien bouquet. The vanilla comes as a mysterious inclusion that is removed from the foodie varieties that recall cake batter and cookies; there are all sort of treacly and sticky off notes that resemble booze and tarmac-like gaiacwood. The almost suede-like softness is caressing, soft, a bit medicinal too, like a shaman's kit; the lure of a snake's tongue, dangerous and at the same time mesmerizing, poison and cure at the same time. The animalistic scent in the background has a honeyed facet, musky and lightly powdery, sweet and intimate. There is a precarious balance in this flanker scent that makes it good; you feel as if one tilt given and it might collapse, but oh, it doesn't.

In short, Alien Essence Absolue comes on the foot of Alien as one of the better examples in the Thierry Mugler line-up, which is quite a feat unto itself, bearing in mind Mugler has one of the most eclectic and intriguing fragrance lines within the mainstream sector.

Alien Essence Absolue was developed by (artistic olfactory director of Mugler parfums) Pierre Aulas with official fragrance notes of white jasmine flowers, orris root, black vanilla pod, incense, myrrh, white amber and cashmere wood.
Alien Essence Absolue is available as 30 and 60 ml Eau de Parfum Intense and a refill of 60 ml.

Tuesday, November 27, 2012

Hermes Ambre des Merveilles: fragrance review

Much like the brownie points of "casual chic" of the original Eau des Merveilles (2004) by perfumers Ralf Schwieger and Nathalie Feisthauer, L'Ambre des Merveilles never intends to intrude a space, but rather infiltrate like a secret agent. To pursue a musical analogy, whereas amber (ambre) is usually solid Buxtehude, L 'Ambre it's a lacework melody by Gabriel Fauré; two cyclical piano phrases, like the four-beat gait of a horse, having a conversation with an echoing cello.

An Adirondack Lake by Winslow Homer via hudillo

The newest Hermes in the Merveilles fragrance line (again) showcases perfumer Jean-Claude Ellena's mastery of his materials: there's nary a heavy or syrupy off note as trap-like as this perfume trope can get; the equivalent of a warm hug rather than a baked goods pastry or a head shop rife with patchouli and amber aphrodisiacs. We're long off that vulgarized route and yet L'Ambre never misses a beat on smelling alluring and sexually appealing all the same—or rather, in spite of it.

L'Ambre des Merveilles unites some aspects of both Elixir des Merveilles and Eau Claire des Merveilles (previous flankers from 2006 and 2010 respectively) into its DNA, the comforting gingerbread cookie nuance gaining the nuzzling sweetness of the hug of a close friend who's wearing cosmetic powder and sweet amber perfume oil. Because, you see, there's both warmth and austerity in L'Ambre, interpreting the amber "fragrance note" (really a mix of ingredients) into a perfume that explores all facets of this most traditional aperture of Orientalia: the initial piquancy, the resinous depth and heft, the powdery trail lingering on skin and clothes, the vanilla dryness...The bitterness of labdanum, a touch of soil, of earth smelled in the air, the saturation of crocus yellow trailing off the horizon ~and what I sense as powdery benzoin~ mingle with the bittersweet citrusy top note and a hint of blond tobacco into an amalgam that is brighter than the sum of its parts, yet is still oddly founded on the minerals and salty skin idea of the original Eau.

L'Ambre des Merveilles feels light and buoyed and collapsingly soft, like being surrounded by a sunny cloud, and invokes thoughts of nostalgia, quiet contentment and being at peace with the world.




Music: Gabriel Fauré - Sicilienne, for cello & piano, Op. 78 dedicated to William Henry Squire


Tuesday, July 24, 2012

Serge Lutens Santal Majuscule: fragrance review & draw

The majestic scent of sandalwood stands as the benevolent Hitopadeśa tales of the Far East, a fan of fantasy woven in didactic morals for princes, much like the precious real fans carved out of the prized wood for cooling off in the intense heat of the Indian peninsula; rich, milky-smelling, with a hint of incense and fresh greenery at times, still retaining their scented glamour as decades go by. The intimate, elegant aura of woody fragrances finds its apogee in sandalwood; perfumes plush and collapsingly soft but with the promise of intelligence. Santal Majuscule by Serge Lutens just comes to reinforce this notion as introduced on these pages a while ago, being the perfect sandalwood starter fragrance for those seeking such a thing, but also a welcome Lutensian offering to make me fall again headfirst into his Alice in Wonderland private cosmos I found myself tangled in ever since he issued the sumptuous La Myrrhe. Lutens however remains Lutens: the orient is ever present, but it is the occident which defines his torturing demons. His new Santal Majuscule is an assured step in his Camino de Perfección, modeled after St.Teresa of Ávila whose Latin motto seals the fate of the fragrance: is it the throes of passion or the throes of divine ecstasy that mark the lines of her face? Where does one end and the other begin? Her devotion of silence is symbolic of the enigmatic nature of the Lutensian opus itself.


 "Pride must be celebrated. Thus the boy, clad in armor and perched on his horse, along with a terrible princess in full mourning dress, pictured himself arriving at the Coronation Mass to the sound of thundering hooves, just at the moment of the transubstantiation, that very moment when the priest holds the host up to the cross, to the one agonizing on it."


"As you know, there are a wide variety of sandalwoods. Mysore is one that has been subjected for some time to a hidden trafficking. I had used it in the mid 90s, during the creation of Santal de MysoreSantal Blanc is another thing. Regarding Santal Majuscule, this is an Australian sandalwood, high quality, but with this release, I 'sensationalized' it so much that in the end, it is impossible to tell if it comes from India, Australia or elsewhere. What interests me is what I can do with it. Moreover, using sandalwood for itself alone would be a little 'Sandalwood of misery'...."               Serge Lutens quote from  interview bestowed to Elena Vosnaki

It's not hard to see why sandalwood ~despite having another two in the line already (Santal Blanc recently being moved into the Paris exclusives line to couple with the resident Santal de Mysore)~ was picked yet again as the foundation on which Lutens built his church, to paraphrase another religious reference. Sandalwood is the natural product par excellence, nature's agony and ecstasy: a scent so fine, so rich and yet with a fresh top note, so creamy sweet and so enduring, that it has inspired generations of men and women to harvest its precious, sacred trunk in order to imbue products for personal, religious and public use with its fine aroma. Although as explained in my Raw Material Sandalwood article the Mysore variety is rationed for fear of depletion (hence the wealth of synthetic sandalwood substitutes enumerated), the polished silkiness of the Indian variant could be mimicked creatively only by the choicest wizards of perfumery. And who more excellent than the mercurial figure of Serge Lutens to offer us a vista into the orientalia of a "nouveau sandalwood"?

The maestro revealed to me in an interview (replete with his childhood reminiscences of classroom ennui) that Santal Majuscule is technically based on the Australian sandalwood variety (which smells different), but I can attest the perfume ends up smelling like an radiant attar procured somewhere close to King Víkrama's lion-throne, creamy and luminous in its rose-distillate facets, sprinkled with promise of cocoa and soft spices (cinnamon), silky sheen with a hint of orange blossom honey and sweet incense in the background. After all, Lutens managed to inject a delicious effect of sandalwood in his savory gourmand fragrance Jeux de Peau, where the impression is again built on fantasy.
 For Santal Majuscule, perfumer Chris Sheldrake and Lutens weaved the familiar web of woody tonalities which they have composed a thesis and a meta-thesis on, ever since Feminite du Bois (the latter alongside Pierre Bourdon). But whereas their other woody compositions can veer dark and rather brooding (see the patchouli & cocoa fantasy of Borneo) and we know from Iris Silver Mist and Tubereuse Criminelle the master has a taste for the morose and the morbid, here the treatment is smiling; petal-soft, sweetish (but never much) and with an elegance and refined allure that defies preconceived notions. The rose is perceptible, but not "dated", The apricoty tinge gives just the right fruity, almost edible tenderness, an ally to the liqueur-like essence of Damask rose and the creaminess of the woods. But the fragrance is far from his Rahat Loukhoum gourmand quality you can give yourself cavities with, making it pliable enough for people who don't like double helpings of anything.


The composition of Santal Majuscule also defies ~especially upon drying down on the skin~ the familiar, been-there-done-that rose attar model of the Middle East: that traditional "A Thousand and One Nights" melange of rose and sandalwood, as recognizable as Aladdin's cave in the desert. The longer the fragrance stays on skin (and it stays on very long) the more it gains a skin-scent aura of musk and honey, animalic yet elegant, with an addictive character, unisex and inviting; like living, breathing, caressed human skin this close to the throes of (divine?) ecstasy.  As Serge says: "Obey what you smell, feel, love. Do not obey what you're told, and do not believe it too much!"[from same interview to the author]
Given all this, I just can't wait for Une Voix Noire, his next installment in the canon.

Compared to the other two sandalwood fragrances in the Serge Lutens line of perfumes, Santal Majuscule is less sweet than Santal Blanc, less daring and austere than Santal de Mysore. Contrasted with that other golden standard of sandalwood perfumes, Tam Dao by Diptyque, I find myself ensnared by the Lutens, mainly because where Tam Dao used to be true and rich, it now boasts a pronounced pencil-shavings cedarwood note which limits its prior rich versatility.

Santal Majuscule is available in Eau de Parfum "haute concentration" (i.e. the slightly pricer than normal black label line of high concentration) at Les Salons du Palais Royal in Paris and online. Starting September 1st 2012 the new "export" fragrance will be sold worldwide.

A generous decant sprayer of the latest Lutens perfume is available for one lucky reader! Please let me know in the comments what you like or not about Lutens and sandalwood perfumes in general. Draw is open till Friday 27th midnight internationally. Draw is now closed, thanks everyone for participating.

Related reading on Perfume Shrine: Serge Lutens perfume reviews & news, Sandalwood in Perfumery, Woody Fragrances


pic of statue via thecoincidentaldandy.blogspot.com

Friday, June 15, 2012

Guerlain Encens Mythique d'Orient: fragrance review

The main criticism upon announcing the news on the Arabian inspired triptych by Guerlain, affectionately termed "Les Deserts d'Orient", has been that should this exclusive-laced foray into Middle Eastern market tastes prove successful, it would herald a stop to French companies offering "French-smelling" perfumes. Having the privilege of savoring the new fragrances at leisure, thanks to the generosity of my Middle East readers, I'm in the happy position to let you know this is not the case and wouldn't be, if Guerlain continues in the direction they've taken with Encens Mythique d'Orient especially. The perfume is redolent of the splendor and richness of the east, yes, but it firmly holds on the patrimonies of the west as well, translating as a very decadent, European-geared animalic oriental with mossy proclivities.

 

 It comes as a sort of an exquisite shock to see that whereas Guerlain new head perfumer Thierry Wasser had been taxed with selling Guerlain short in the first couple of releases under his name -which were baptism by fire for him- he has proven now that he's capable of both refinement and modernization without eschewing tradition (as in the solar floral Lys Soleia) as well as in offering the baroque treatment with the taste for exquisite balance and quality for which Guerlain perfumes had become famous the world over. Much like Shalimar, Mitsouko or Vol de Nuit before it, Encens Mythique d'Orient is inspired by exoticism but it retains at heart a core of tradition which distinguishes it from upstarts to the throne (Montale etc.) Wasser has found a balance between what the Arabs will find somewhat familiar, yet tinged with the desirable Franco-laced "western cachet" and what the Westerners, flocking to the flagship boutique on Champs Elysees for precious juice, will find inspired by the 1001 Nights.

 Even though Encens Mythique d'Orient is allegedly inspired by frankincense, there is little of the ecclesiastical citrus-laced, terpenic smoke we have come to associate with high mass or niche fragrances aimed at aficionados of this pious, somber ambience. Rather ambergris is the real protagonist, in what smells like a real tincture of the rare greyish matter, with all its nutty, buttery, smoky and salty intimate nuances intact, blooming on the skin like a hundred kisses from the soft lips of a handsome sheik. The mood is animalic, sexy, decadent and very "there" without becoming skanky or vulgar, though I expect hyper-sensitive to intimate acts of pleasure individuals upon smelling it will be clutching their pudenda self-consciously pronto.

 Guerlain gives what incense is there the Guerlain treatment (with a nod to Lutens as well) and weaves richness and depth in their typical patisserie way, full of billows of raw materials which fuse East and West into an amalgam, a tapestry with a million themes. The opening of Encens Mythique is reminiscent of retro shaving foam, part retro fern-like and mossy, part musky sweet, with a very decadent, rich feel to it that stems from an oriental Damask rose. The rosiness is allied to saffron, a classical combination that exalts the bittersweet facets of the spice into a warm embrace. But it is the coalescence of ambergris and muskiness which "makes" the perfume a true Guerlain and at the same time a reverie into the Middle East.

 The sillage and lasting power are great; you certainly get your buck's worth in investing in this fragrance. I'm smitten!

 

The Guerlain perfume bottles of Les Deserts d'Orient are adorned with Arab-cript calligraphy down one side, the French names down the other side. They are the tall, architectural style of the collection L'Art et la Matière with the antique gold overlay on the sides holding 75ml of perfume. The concentration of the fragrances is Eau de Parfum for tenacity. Prices are set for 190euros/AED990 per bottle. The perfume was aimed to be available exclusively in the UAE and the Guerlain flagship store. Also via the connections of Wim in Parfumerie Place Vendome in Brussels, and in the UK in Harrods for 160GBP.

 Painting by Norman Lindsay, Languor or the Pink Drape (1934)

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