Pour Troubler by Guerlain: fragrance review of a rare gem

"Her extraordinarily dark black eyes were so captivating, they were of such intensity that it was impossible not to be detained before them". The French have a wonderful verb to denote the agitation and emotional anxiety one is experiencing upon encountering a compelling and unsettling sight (usually one that involves a wily attractive woman): troubler. And coupled with the immortal words of Georges Braque : "L'art est fait pour troubler, la science rassure" (Art is made for unsettling, science reassures), this French verb took on a dual meaning in the onomastics stakes of the 1911 Pour Troubler perfume by Guerlain.

This gnomic attachment points to a scent fit for Liane de Pougy or even La Belle Otero, for the eyes of which the above image was put into such passionate words, yet in doing so Guerlain also managed to inject perfumery with apertures of bizarre cubiques through which we get a glimpse of a puzzling game of connotations. On the other hand the passionate, fatally mad love that transcends logic has always been at the core of Guerlain's promotional material, even in more obscure creations such as Voilà pourquoi j'aimais Rosine or Vague Souvenir (1912); and Pour Troubler is no exception.

The orientalised theme that slowly unfolds as the first drops of Pour Troubler begin their journey on the skin are ingrained in the evolving fashions of the first years of the second decade of the 20th century. The early 1910s saw fashionable feminine silhouettes become much more lithe, softer than at the beginning of La Belle Epoque and with a fluidity immortalised in Isadora Duncan's dance performances. Notably it was Les Ballets Russes performing Scheherazade in Paris in 1910 that sparked a craze for Orientalism. Couturier Paul Poiret was prompted to translate this vogue into opulent visions of harem girls and exotic geishas which catapulted the bastions of conservative circles into desiring the forbidden mysteries of the sensuous East.

Although no given notes exist for this Guerlain fragrance I tried to ponder on its structure as I contemplated the history of the house and the lineage, using this composition as a porthole into the creation process to follow. The initial impression of Pour Troubler is one of sweet, confectionary type licorice-anise, but not exactly veering into the beloved macaroon delicasy yet, which makes me think here was the spermatic idea behind L'Heure Bleue which materialized a year later. Indeed the reworking of several of the themes of L'Heure Bleue into both Fol Arôme(1912) and Pois de senteur (1917) indicates that Jacques Guerlain was working and re-working on certain aspects to emphasize nuanced ideas: from the romantically melancholic moment of day melting into the warm floral effluvium of the night, to the sensuous invitation to folly accompanied by fruits underpinned by absinthe-y tipsiness, finally leading to the honeyed sweet Miel Blanc* with spice accents. The anisic sweetness accord of Pour Troubler smells imbued with the softness of powdery violets and cool iris notes that give a gentle ambience, contrasted with richer florals like jasmine and what seems like jonquil, appearing in its heart. The florals treated in a transparent study of black and white softly fuse to reveal a hazy daguerreotype. Through this gentle fog the warmth of amber along with some bitterness of leather notes and sweet balsams polish the scent off in the embrace of a courtesan pictured in patina-laden postcards.

Extrait came in a quatrilobe capped Bacarrat flacon, same as the one used for Jicky (and later used for many other fragrances in the Guerlain stable). Eau de Cologne concentration, of which I am now proud owner of, came in the "disk" bottles with the pyramidal stopper, popular in the 50s and 60s. Pour Troubler is long discontinued, rendering it a rare occurence in online auctions.

A sample of this extremely rare fragrance will be given out to a random lucky reader!


*a perfumer's base by laboratoires de Laire redolent of honey

Lithograph "figure" by Georges Braque via allposters.com. POstcard of Carolina Otero via wikimedia commons. Parfum bottle courtesy of Russian site Palomka.livejournal.

Guerlain Gourmand Coquin, Chypre Fatal, Oriental Brulant: fragrance reviews and musings

Like probably half the female population of the affluent West with about 40 minutes to kill on a winter's week evening ~nails filed at advertising breaks~ I used to watch the comedic escapades of four women on the verge of breakdown (which rarely resulted in stylistic mishaps) as they struted their proud frames along the avenues of Manhattan in Sex & the City.
In the last season's finale Carrie, the marginally emancipated singleton with a shoe fixation, abandonds her beloved New York for Paris to follow her Russian "lovah" who happens to be an artist. Eager to explore the mystique of Paris she dreams of drinking dark-roasts and smoking Gitanes where Sartre smoked, read under the trees in Boulevard Saint-Germain and live the life of a woman in love in the city of romanticism. In view of all that, she mysteriously doesn't go after perfumes (what??) or Lucien Pellat Finet but rather chooses to slip and fall on her face in the Dior boutique instead, which begs the question: do the French wax their marbles to a slippery shine? Ruining her shoes stepping into poo and having a young kid stick her tongue out at her are the reality checks of the god of small things. Suffice to say Paris doesn't really prove like she hoped it would be and in a Dorothy-out-of-Oz conclusion she retraces her path back to Mr.Big who "rescues" her and to the Big Apple.

Guerlain is like the emblematic Paris in the mind of a fragrance fanatic: if it's not good there, it can't be good anywhere. Or so we're led to think. And what do they do about that, you ask? Lately they often present us with the glowing facade of shinning marble to let us fall flat on our face on the disillusionment of shattered expectations with no poo note in there to soften the blow.

Their new trio Elixirs Charnels (Carnal Elixirs) in marshmallow shades have appeared on the horizon of exclusive ~aka expensive~ launches that have otherwise sane people salivating with the anticipation of exquisite rare pearls of non pareil spherical shape to realise that for all their pretty veneer they hide a somewhat lackluster core, chipped by nails that will handle them repeatedly. The idea of perfumer Christine Nagel and artistic director Sylvaine Delacourte of women choosing roles according to moods helps intrigue the consumer, subliminally hinting that they might serve variable purposes; which is exactly the good ole' concept of a "fragrance wardrobe". Nevertheless, although they pose as contrasting personae (the playful woman-child, the icy femme fatale of a Hitchcokian thriller or the hyper-hormoned bombshell that bursts at the seams) they more or less offer a similarly tame exposition of feminine pleasantry. Well-made technically and very approachable, they part ways with Guerlain's older classics being resolutely modern and instantly appealing. Are they sexy? Let's not forget Chris Sheldrake's quote: "In our industry, 'bedroom smell' means the sensuality of jasmine, a powdery, musky soft entity - something that makes the wearer comfortable - and with a comfortable smell that pleases. It means not too violet or too rose or too animalic or too mossy." Let's repeat: not too violet or too rose or...etc.

Gourmand Coquin reprises the caramellic tonalities of Spiritueuse Double Vanille with less depth, possibly with a burnt cotton-candy note more than anything else bringing it close to Aquolina's Pink Sugar and L'artisan's Vanilia. Sweet is as sweet does and I predict this fluffy confectionary pastry that has no bitterness of Valhrona chunks, but only milky lappings of ganache (but less than Iris Ganache) will become very popular.

Chypre Fatal is poised in the venerable cloak of chypre bearing the burden of fatality when the most it could do would be to slap you with the peeled skin of a peach. Not exactly in the mould of modern chypres à la Narciso Rodriguez (which Nagel co-authored) ~those are rather woodies with sanitized patcouli notes~ but not a classic chypre either, Chypre Fatal takes fruitiness into the realm of a clean, if unexciting, musky scent that can be effortlessly worn by even the most meak. This kitten purrs rather than hisses.

Oriental Brûlant is the one closer to the orientalia tradition of Guerlain, if only because it contains that ambery powdery Woofer surround that is the trademark of a recognisably erotic fragrance, in which the French house has excelled for so long. It also manages to smell at once comforting and confident with its hazy almondy tonalities and a silken thread of cool that ties it to Ambra del Nepal by I Profumi di Firenze and Ambre Fétiche by Goutal, as well as the attractive interplay between cool and warm facets of Sonia Rykiel Women- not for men! Oriental Brûlant might not be terribly innovative, but it's quite fetching! Try to forget the advertising scenario and picture it as a personal amulet on days of torpor.

Ultimately, Guerlain's Carnal Elixirs, much like that season finale showed, prove that not everything is as you expect it. And in the end, that's "Abso-fuckin'-lutely" OK.

Official notes:
Gourmand Coquin notes: black pepper, rose, rum, chocolate.
Chypre Fatal notes: white peach, rose, patchouli, vanilla.
Oriental Brûlant notes: clementine, almond, tonka beans, vanilla.

Guerlain Carnal Elixirs are currently available in Eau de Parfum oblong bottles of 75 ml at 165 € via La Maison Guerlain, 68 Avenue des Champs-Elysées, Paris or Begdrof Goodman in New York.

Pic of Sarah Jessica Parker courtesy of HBO. Bottle pics via Le critique du parfum.

Aziyade by Parfum d'Empire: fragrance review

"The delicate exactitude with which he reproduced the impression given to his own alert nerves by unfamiliar forms, colours, sounds and perfumes" is how a contemporary critic describes the cadence literary style of Pierre Loti, French author of "Aziyadé". The exoticism and decadence of the Near and Far East at the core of the romanticism of the 19th century thus provides the backdrop for the newest fragrance by Parfum d'Empire, Aziyadé. A fragrance inspired by the indolent life of a harem at the twilight of the Ottoman Empire.
"Aziyadé" or "Constantinople" is a semi-autobiographical novel (1879), based on the diary by Pierre Loti (nom de plume of Louis Marie-Julien Viaud), kept during his 3-month stay as a Naval officer in Greece and Constantinople in the fall/winter of 1876. It recounts the then 27-year old Loti's illicit love affair with a 18 year old "Circassian" harem girl, Aziyadé. Although one in a string of conquests, a gold ring with her name on it worn for the remainder of his days suggests otherwise. Loti's "friendship" with a Spanish man servant named Solomon provides the intrigue of a love triangle in which some tone of homosexual affair is hinted. Loti, a pseudonym derived from an Indian flower which loves to blush unseen, excels at this literary species of confession, half-way between fact and fiction. But the protagonist remains the omnipresent fascination with the opulence of the East with its inherent sensuality (as reflected in his other works (L'Inde (sans les Anglais), Les Derniers Jours de Pékin, and Madame Chrysanthème), influencing such aesthetes as Marcel Proust and John Luther Long.
The English translation by Marjorie Laurie, no longer in copyright, however contains sanitized descriptions of harem life, prostitution and homosexuality, while the original French first edition is a highly prized collectors item (you can download it free here).

It is of course unfortunate and bitterly ironic that when the modern western observer thinks of harems eyes glaze with the promise of nubile forms sleathed with aromatic oils, emerging through the steamy vapours of an intoxicating mirage. These notions of a place where women dependent on a single man are ready at any moment to satisfy his every whim were honed by opulent odalisques painted in sweeping brustrokes by Ingres and the playful libretto of the Mozart opera. Historical evidence shutters that illusion however with its harsh reality of violent abductions, cruel enslavement and snarly political chess-games; fate was harsh not only to women but to men too ~the atrocious practices reserved for the sandali eunuchs curl the blood. Slave concubines for sexual reproduction emphasize the patriarchal nature of power ("hereditary" through only male heirs). Unlike wives they had no recognized lineage, while the latter were suspected to have vested interests in their own family's affairs, interfering with their loyalty to their husband. This system made concubines preferrable, if affordable. Therefore slave concubines as an equal method of reproduction without the risks of marriage (mainly that of the potential betrayal of a wife, thus questioning an heir's paternity) became a solid custom.

In Parfum d'Empire Aziyadé, the scent doesn't correspond to the Valide Sultan for whom Shalimar might fit glove-like, but to a young concubine destined to become kadin, his favoured wife. Those quintessential spices of Near East orientalia, cardamom and cumin, exhale their dangerous yet strangely comforting breath upon the proceedings like the steam rising from a Chai cup offered in supplication. The redolence of richly sweet dates, oranges and prunes predisposes to recast one's mind to that dried-fruit souk alcove that is Arabie by Serge Lutens, but also the 80s Cresp reformulation of Femme by Rochas with its stewed prunes dusted with cumin. Carob is another Near East reference: Ceratonia siliqua, the scientific name of the carob tree, derives from the Greek κεράτιων, “fruit of the carob” (from keras [κέρας] "horn" due to its shape). Its fruit is sweet, succulent with a chocolate-y warmth edged in bitterness. Balanced between sweet and acidulous facets, Aziyadé would be appealing to those who find the abundance of Arabie inviting and accordingly excessive to those who don't.



Parfum d'Empire is a French niche line established by Marc Antoine Corticchiato in 2003 painting olfactory portraits of the great Empires of the past from the Alexander the Great (Iskander) and the Romans (Equistrius), through the Mongul Empire (Fougère Bengale) and the Russian Tsars (Ambre Russe) to the Chinese Empire (Osmanthus Interdite), the Ottomans (Cuir Ottoman) and Napoléon (Eau de Gloire) with Joséphine (Eau Suave).

Notes for Aziyade:
pomegranate, crystallized date, almond, orange and prune, cardamom, cinnamon, ginger, Egyptian cumin, carob, frankincense, vanilla, Madagascar vanilla absolute, patchouli, musk, cistus

Available at 50ml/1.7oz (95$) and 100ml/3.4oz (130$) at Luckyscent and soon online at the official site.

Painting Les Almées by Paul Louis Bouchard via chapitre.com. Clip of Arabian dance from Nutcracker Suite by P.I.Tchaikovsky from the Mariinsky Theatre ballets' performance in St.Petersburg, originally uploaded by radostsguy on Youtube.

Shalimar by Guerlain: Review and History Info for an Iconic Oriental

Shalimar...its sonorous name reverberates long after its smell has evaporated, conjuring images of prodigal sensuality and old-fashioned romanticism like no other; holding us spellbound in a mirage of forbidden dreams.

Beginnings With a Legal Battle No Less

And yet, the very name which means "temple of love" in Sanskrit, was jeopardised soon after the perfume's introduction in 1921! It proved to be so memorable that a rival company decided to cash in on its popularity and launch a perfume of the same name. This resulted in a legal battle which had Guerlain temporarily rebaptise the fragrance as No.90 (its number in the illustrious catalogue of the house) on their export bottles, thus rendering them rare collector's items. Luckily for us, things soon fell into their ordained place in 1925, marked as the year of the official launch, and Shalimar haunts our dreams to this day, being the progenitor of culinary fragrances with its plush vanilla but also an iconic true oriental with its deep labdanum shadows. A quintessentially French interpretation of an Oriental: It's no accident than even Ernest Beaux, no ordinary perfumer himself, complained: "When I do vanilla I get crème anglaise, when Guerlain does it he gets Shalimar!"

The Legend of the Creation & Its Times

In the best Guerlain tradition of evoking passionate love stories for most of their perfumes, Shalimar is said to be inspired by the homonymous Gardens in Lahore, Pakistan, part of which was laid by love-sick Mughal Emperor Shah Jehan in 1619, where he promenaded with his most beloved wife Mumtaz Mahal. After Mumtaz died in childbirth three years after her husband succeeded his father to the throne, Taj Mahal was built as the world's finest mausoleum in her honour in Agra. Even if this story is the brainchild of a brilliant copywriter, it resonated with the times perfectly.

Today the East stands in our Western mind as the symbol of tranquility and introspection, but in the roaring 1920s the East conjured up images of unbridled passion, exoticism, khol-eyed beauties and addictive substances. It was the time when Herman Hesse published Siddharta, the West's first glimpse of Buddhism, and F.Scott Fitzgerald The Great Gatsby, a paean to the newly established American prosperity and its pitfalls. Theda Bara had already lain the path to cinematic vamps to follow, such as Pola Negri and Clara Bow with her bloody-red dark cupid's lips immortalised on black and white vignettes, while Paul Poiret had produced his own phantoms of the harem paving the way to modern fashions. It was the time of Les Ballets Russes, set to music by Stravinsky and Poulenc with sets painted by Picasso and Georges Braque. In short Orient was meeting Occident at the seams.

 The Secrets of the Shalimar Formula

It was at this juncture in time Jacques Guerlain was intrigued by the newly popularised synthetic vanillin or Methoxy-3-Hydroxy- Benzaldehyde.
Vanillin was first isolated as a relatively pure substance in 1858 by Nicolas-Theodore Gobley, by evaporating a vanilla extract to dryness and recrystallizing the resulting solids. In 1874, German scientists Ferdinand Tiemann and Wilhelm Haarmann found a way to synthesize vanillin from coniferin, a glycoside of isoeugenol found in pine bark (they went on to found a company which now belongs to Symrise and produce it industrially). In 1876, Karl Reimer synthesized vanillin from another source: guaiacol. The laboratories De Laire bought the patent for vanillin and sold the product to Guerlain for their perfumery, first used in Jicky.
By the late 19th century, semi-synthetic vanillin derived from the eugenol found in clove oil was available in the market. After the 1920s vanillin was synthesized from lignin-containing "brown liquor", a byproduct of the sulfite process for making wood pulp, but for environmental reasons most vanillin produced today is made from the petrochemical guaiacol: most popular method today is the two-step process practiced by Rhodia (from 1970s onwards), in which guaiacol reacts with glyoxylic acid by electrophilic aromatic substitution. The resulting vanilmandelic acid is then converted to vanillin by oxidative decarboxylation. Vanillin proved to be so successful that it became the sine qua non of the food industry, resulting in its inclusion to everything, especially in American produced chocolates and beverages; a concept that might be blasphemous to the traditional Swiss and Belgian ideas of chocolate making.

Jacques Guerlain always felt that the aroma of vanilla was a powerful aphrodisiac, a notion that is almost a prerequisite of orientalia, and completely in synch with the demands of the times. So curious to see what would happen ~or so the story goes~ he dropped a large dollop of vanillin into a bottle Jicky, Guerlain's revolutionary and popular aromatic fougère. But Jicky already contained vanillin along with natural vanilla extract, as well as coumarin (a substance isolated from tonka beans in 1868, having the smell of cut hay) and linalool (a naturally occuring in over 200 species terpene alcohol, isolated here from rosewood), its trio of guardian angels in the halls of fragrance history. The secret to the medicinal, smoky yellow vanillin of Jicky, reprised in Shalimar, was the remnants of guiacol and phenols, lending an autumnal darkness to what would otherwise be a confectionary sweet cream. This is the reason that Guerlain insisted on ordering the impure grade of vanillin even when the chemical process was improved.

It was the fusion of vanillin, coumarin and opoponax along with labdanum, however, which provided the basic accord of Shalimar and accounted for its haunting aura. Thus Jacques Guerlain pushed the oriental theme of Jicky to new extremes, creating the emblematic oriental and the flagship fragrance for Guerlain. Luca Turin in his older French guide compared its place in perfumery to the Revolutionary Etude by Chopin: a classic loved and played to excess, but of which a new interpretation or a unexpected coming-across has the power to move even the most nonchalantly unconcerned.


How Shalimar Smells the Way it Does

Guerlain's Shalimar opens with the violent zest of bergamot, backed up by sweeter hesperidic accents, quickly melding into an embrace of flowers that soon set the stage for the sensual and warm undercurrent of the muskily sexy base. The bridge of patchouli and vetiver, with a touch of what seems like mediterranean thyme, provides the movement that compliments the chilly astrigent feel of the citrus, uniting the prickly, balsamic elements of the drydown with a dash of leathery quinolines (materials with a harshly pungent, bitter green scent) into a sustained basso continuo that endures for hours; on skin as well as on clothes. 

Shalimar's feminine beauty comes from the orchestration of its softly powdery and animalic elements that heave like an ample bosom: the golden dust of heliotrope, the hazy veil of opoponax, the balsamic goodness of warm, slightly spicy benzoin and Peru balsam mingling with the vanillic softness, the carnality of musk...You can wear this clad from head to toe and it still seems like you're completely naked.

Comparing Vintage & Modern Versions of Shalimar

In vintage formulations, the bergamot is brighter (and natural) and the muskiness more pronounced, rendering Shalimar a very sexy fragrance that is unashamedly and calculatingly seductive: according to Roja Dove" it was said that a lady didn't do three things: smoke, dance the tango and wear Shalimar". Never was a perfume so close to the edge of respectability while remaining within good taste. Later re-interpretations, especially in recent years, have detructed from the animalic element of the base, due to substitution of ingredients (the catty potency of civet in particular, as well as making the bergamot top synthetic due to photosensitizing concerns) and additionally conformity to modern tastes for lighter fragrances. The result nevertheless is harsher, thinner and with a less "flou", plush ambience about it.
The extrait de parfum used to be the undoubtedly supreme choice in Shalimar, the epitome of a dark oriental, while the Eau de toilette and Eau de parfum were lesser mortals; but in the interests of securing a rich-smelling vintage bottle I highly recommend the Parfum de Toilette concentration that circulated during the 1980s: it presents the best aspects of the vintage with a price-tag that can be met (bottle depicted in the above ad). Also, if you happen across an eau de cologne bottle, don't knock it: it probably comes from the 60-70s and it is as potent and as rich as a current Eau de Parfum concentration of any given fragrance.

Bottle Designs & How to Date Shalimar editions
Throughout its life, Shalimar extrait de parfum continued to be sold in its original crystal bottle with blue glass stopper the shape of a ventaille. The original urn shaped flacon was designed by Baccarat in 1925, but it was also copied and used by the glass houses of Cristal Romesnil and Pochet et du Courval for Shalimar later on. The identity of the glass can be seen at the base of the bottle: acid stamps for Baccarat or Cristal Romesnil, an entwined HP for Pochet et du Courval. For brief periods, Shalimar was featured in both the oval shaped flacon that also housed Jicky, Après L' Ondée and Liù (in the late20s and 30s) and in the Jicky "quadrilobe"-stopper squat bottle (in the 1940s) .
The parapluie (umbrella) design, a simple ribbed elongated bottle, was introduced in 1952 by Pochet et du Courval and was popular well into the 60s, with paradigms circulating into the 70s and even the 80s.
In 1968 a cylindrical bottle enameled with white and blue designs was introduced for the Eau de Toilette, while the Eau de Cologne concentration was presented in round bottles (called "disk bottles") with a round label and a pyramidal stopper along with most of the well-known fragrances of Guerlain circulating well into the 70s. The gold cylindrical bottles with the glass refill inside them were introduced in the 1980s, re-interpreted in the Habit de Fête gold-toned bottles with silver studs for the -then- approaching millenium.
In 2007, a limited edition in black was issued named Shalimar Black Mystery, but apart from the bottle, the fragrance remains the same.

Two especially valuable and beautiful presentations are:
1) the Marly editions, starting from the 1930s and continuing into the 1950s, featuring the red Marly horse logo on both bottle and box. The logo echoes the Marly marble horses on the Place de la Concorde, originally ordered by Louis XV for the park of Château de Marly and sculpted by Guillaume Coustou between 1743 and 1745.
2) the very rare Presentation Avion (airplane presentation),offered on the Air France Paris-New York flights, starting in 1960. The extrait bottle would stand up (instead of down) inside a small plinth, in which the box lid would slip over making a cover. Additionally the stopper was inside a tiny cardboard box included in the presentation and the perfume itself was sealed with a cork covered in a thin seal. Both Baccarat and Pochet et du Courval made these bottles, differentiated by their markings on the bottom of the bottle.

Last but not least, an easy rule of thumb, is that on old bottles the label simply has Shalimar surrounded by gold border, while on newer bottles there is also the name Guerlain underneath. Also, recent bottles are flatter, non fluted and with the blue ventaille done in a simpler design than before.

Notes for Guerlain Shalimar: bergamot, lemon, mandarin, rose, jasmine, orris, vetiver, heiotrope, opoponax, vanilla, civet, Peru balsam, benzoin, tonka bean, sandalwood

Flankers/derivative versions of Shalimar by Guerlain (with linked reviews & comparison with original):
Shalimar Eau Legere/Shalimar Light
Eau de Shalimar
Shalimar Ode a la Vanille
Shalimar Parfum Initial
Shalimar Parfum Initial L'Eau
Limited editions of Shalimar (without change in the perfume formula itself):
Eau de Shalimar Flower
Shalimar Charms edition & Eau de Shalimar Charms edition
Shalimar Fourreau du Soir
Shalimar extrait de parfum in Bacarrat quadrilobe flacon 2011 edition

Pics via parfumdepub and ebay/collector Cleopatra's Boudoir. Illustration by Erté, c.1930 via Prints.com

Tolu by Ormonde Jayne: fragrance review

"What is the deeper meaning of the simple but magical expression to "smell nice"? That intangible aura emanating from the skin embraces a hint of linen, a flashing image, a caress of silk and a musical rustle, in other words a direct and powerful link with the unsaid, the unperceived, the unimagined, the impossible and the intangible."
~Dominique Rolin, La Voyageuse

Dramatic oriental fragrances often demand dramatic presence. But should you fall short on the latter, Tolu by Ormonde Jayne is providing that intense feeling that great seductive orientals usually pounce on with a friendlier manner that magically "smells nice" (and so much more!) in a very tangible sense. The first time I put this on, with nothing more glamorous in mind than a dinner à deux at home, I recall it elicited a beloved's interest in finding out what is this golden elixir which suspended time and made that moment an instant of shared passion. It was Tolu of course and ever since it has haunted my dreams: a juicy incense of an oriental, full of the feminine powers of a heroine in a Procopius tale.

Tolu by Ormonde Jayne opens with a full blast of rich, lightly spicy and ambery orange blossom that is intense, envelopping the senses into an embrace of honeyed warmth and comforting powder. The calm powdery feeling imparts a velvety sheen that becomes almost tactile, inducing you to touch and be touched. There are no other floral nuances that emerge distinctly from the composition, unless you really strain to do so. Instead this ambery heat is largely accountable to labdanum, a rich resin with a story of its own. Frankincense, the ecclesiastic incense resin, imparts a cooler touch that tempers the pronounced sweetness of the other ingredients (both Tolu balsam* and labdanum-based ambers are sweet), accounting for a fragrance on a par with great florientals such as L'heure Bleue, Bal a Versailles, Boucheron Femme or 24 Faubourg. If any of these move your heartstrings in a nostalgic melody, you should definitely try Tolu!
The marmoreal quality of these somnobulent resins is queenly and feels like the most luxurious cashmere shawl imaginable in hues of rich burgundy or shady olive.
Beautifully crafted from what smells like expensive materials, it is one of the compositions in the woods-resins family in which Linda Pilkington's good taste truly shines. In a sense this is a hark back to what proper fragrances for feminine women were all about, before the advent of sparse sketches: enhancing the womanly allure, smelling expensive and opulent, but never vulgar, presenting a round, composite formula instead of a clashing juxtaposition of fighting polar opposites for the sake of celebral intrigue. Tolu instead is very much sensed and felt rather than analysed intellectually.

Although its warm nature might seem like it is only promised to the guiles and needs of a harsh winter, Tolu has a velvety sheen that evokes smooth bronzed skin luxuriating under the veil of an aromatized body oil, not unlike Patou's long lost Chaldée; the Oil is exactly the form of choice for the summer in my mind, while the Eau de Parfum and Parfum would be wonderfully warming in the colder months.
Tolu lasts excellently on the skin inducing you to catch whiffs of it rising up from a heated decolleté all day long, well into the night.

Eau de Parfum is £58.00 for 50ml, parfum is £112.00 for 50 ml. Also available in Hydrating Bath and Shower Creme, Essential Body Oil, Replenishing Body Lotion, Scented Candle and a luxurious Gift Box in various combinations of products.
Exclusively available at Ormonde Jayne UK boutique: 12 The Royal Arcade -28 Old Bond Street, London W1S 4SL or online at Ormonde Jayne.com


Notes:
Top: Juniper berry, orange blossom, clary sage
Heart: Orchid, Moroccan rose, muguet
Base: Tolu balsam*, tonka bean, golden frankincense, amber

*Tolu balsam is a resin from a Peruvian tree from the south of the country with a sweet vanillic touch

Painting Girl with Red Hair by Fabien Perez, courtesy of paintinghere.com. Pic of bottle courtesy of OrmondeJayne.com

Classic Values ~Kouros by YSL: fragrance review

Kouros : how misrepresented you are. I almost feel pity... Or perhaps not. Because it has been over applied and misused by many, it earned a reputation of no less than "piss" (enter the comment of a character in the indie film “The locals” who says so, when the other guy slips a bottle of Kouros out of the glove compartment saying girls at work like it). Yet I still love it in small doses!

Someone I know who actually did work for Yves Saint Laurent back in his heyday had a little anecdote on its creation to share: when Yves visited Greece in the 1970s he made a stop at Sounion/Sunium, that cape at the edge of Attica with the famous Poseidon temple {click to see an atmospheric photo and here for a more classical one}. This temple is situated at an advantageous point for surveillance of the Aegean in case of a potential enemy fleet and formed part of the Holy Triangle, marked by three major temples (Aegina island – Athens – Sounion cape). The day was bright, the sea ahead was azure blue, the columns of the temple stood imposingly solid. The only etchings on the marble then were those of Lord Byron who obviously felt the need to leave his name on a piece of antiquity: see, vandalism was not unknown even back then, even if Byron assisted the country’s National Revolution. It must have made an impression: he quoted Sounion in Don Juan ~

"Place me on Sunium's marbled steep,
Where the waves and I can only
hear
Our mutual murmurs sweep
There, swanlike, let me sing and die."

But I digress... Yves contemplated the view and was inspired to recreate the feeling in a perfume. The progressive sketches he made were of stylized columns that little by little became the austere white image of the bottle we know today. "Living Gods have their perfume: Kouros", ran the advertising campaign.

Kouros the name was in keeping with the Greek theme: Kouros (plural kouroi) is an iconographic type of the archaic Greek sculpture of 6th century BC that featured the famous archaic smile. A statue of a young man, in the nude, with one leg slightly protruding before the other, it gives the impression of motion that is about to happen any minute now.
Kouros, the fragrance, composed by the great Pierre Bourdon (Iris Poudre, Ferre by Ferre, Dolce Vita, Cool Water) launched in 1981 and became iconic of that period winning a FiFi award the next year and holding a place in bestsellers for years to come. With its intense, pungent almost orangey blast of the coriander opening it segues on to warm clove, sensual oakmoss and a touch of ambergris (that infamous whale byproduct that is so hard to come by) and infamously civet, managing to smell both sweet and bitter at the same time, urinous with sage, quite powdery which is unusual for men’s scents; insolent, animalic, audacious, almost Gordon Gekko! The drydown is like freshly washed hair on a sweaty body.

It is usually recommended to all ages, but frankly I can not picture it on the very, very young, nor the old. It's best in between: a little experience is necessary, but not that much! To be rediscovered by a new generation pretty soon. I just wish they came up with a feminine version of this one : if it’s so common to do so with women’s perfumes, then why not with men’s?

The Flanker Fragrances of Kouros

The original Kouros is one of the fragrances with the most "flankers" over the years (flankers are new, often wildly different fragrances coat-tailing on the success of a best-seller using the name and bottle design in new twists, as devised by the company). These tried to lighten up the load of the odoriferous original. The experiment started with Kouros Eau de Sport in 1986 (now discontinued) and Kouros Fraîcher in 1993 which added bergamot, orange blossom and pineapple, while still remaining the closest to the original.
From 2000 onwards, interest picked up, a comparable case as with Opium, and parfums YSL launched Body Kouros composed by Annick Menardo (of Bulgari Black fame) in a black bottle goving a twist through vibrant eucalyptus on the top notes and adding Camphor-wood and Benzoin to the drydown, the latter's sweet caramel vibe clashing with the mentholated notes of the former.
Kouros Eau d'Ete in 2002 plays on blue-mint, rosemary and cedarwood and comes in a clear ice-blue bottle. Kouros Cologne Sport came out in 2003 and relied on cedrat, bergamot and tangerine for the top with the florancy of jasmine and cyclamen in the heart. Neither of those really resembles the original ~which is either good or bad according to your reaction on the latter.

Kouros Cologne Sport Eau d'Éte sounds a little like they ran out of words (cologne, sport and summery!): it launched in 2004 as a limited edition in a gradient blue bottle (predictably). Yet another limited edition Kouros Eau d'Ete launched in 2005, with just a marginal play on the box.
The latest was the Kouros Tattoo Collector (2007), another limited edition: lighter and with a peppery accent it comes in an Eau Tonique concentration which fits somewhere between Eau de Toilette and Apres-Rasage/aftershave. And what about the tattoo? Well, it came along with two temporary tattoos in the box. Booh, if you're going to be serious about anything, get a real one, please!
This year sees a gradient bottle of blue (again!) with the tag Kouros Energising. Ooouff! Enough!

So, what do you think of Kouros? Love it or hate it?

Image of Archaic kouros from Getty museum, pics of ads by Parfumdepub

Opium Dreams ~Opium by Saint Laurent: fragrance review

Was this my life, or did I dream it? That seemingly rhetorical question might drive one crazy given sufficient circumstances. After all, isn't all life, "is all we see and seem but a dream within a dream?" like Poe used to say. Or as the ancient Greeks poetically put it: "οναρ σκιας ανθρωπος" (man is but a shadow's dream).
My thoughts revert to these aphorisms, as I converge Opium by Yves Saint Laurent and Sergio Leone's swansong masterpiece, Once upon a time in America in my mind. My proclivities to the fragrance being a given and my fondness for that final enigmatic scene in which De Niro is beatifically smiling through the somnolent haze of opium vapors, it was natural to be so; if only because, like the drug, Opium is to be worn lying down. Pilgrimage was sorely lacking till now and the Gods have been accusing me of hubris for too long.

History of YSL Opium Perfume
Yves Saint Laurent was at the zenith of his career when he envisioned a decadent, baroque perfume evoking the exotic Orient: "It will be the greatest perfume of them all and we will call it Opium", he said, perhaps with a sideways wink to his own path to hallucinogenics' addiction. The year when the concept was conceived was 1972. It would take another 5 years for it to come to fruition.



The scent was composed by Jean Louis Sieuzac (Sonia Rykiel, Dune, the re-issue of Madame Rochas) in 1977 and art-directed by Chantal Roos, while the vermilion flacon was designed by Pierre Dinand.
Originally the name that Squibb, the American parent company of parfums Saint Laurent, wanted to christen the fragrance was Black Orchid, the same that Tom Ford later grabbed almost 30 years later for his own foray into perfume for what he hoped to be an equally controversial landmark.

Opium was in many ways a landmark: Its fragrance although tracing its lineage to great orientals of the past such as Shalimar, Habanita, Youth Dew and even Tabu (with its carnation-civet accord of "parfum de puta"), was perhaps the first to enter into the floriental category, with its very much detectable carnation, orange blossom and ylang-ylang among the plush of effulgent spice and starched resins, of which oppoponax stars. But also due to the fact that it broke with the previous trends of independent chypres and soft aldehydics, bringing back the orientals which had been forgotten since their last stint during the 20s and 30s and thus inaugurating the fashions for them again, resulting in everyone producing one from Coco, Poison, Ysatis, Boucheron Femme , all the way to Loulou.

Its launch party, at a junk in Manhattan's East River, with orientalised canopies and matching decor, marked the first time such opulence was applied to a fragrance's issue and ignited a series of mega-launches that were to become de rigeur. Its campaign, provocatively proclaiming "for those addicted to Yves Saint Laurent", earned it serious controversy in certain countries: A peanut-growing premier in Queensland, Australia had the perfume banned in his state. The US Federal Justice Department tried to outlaw it. In other countries due to drug import laws it had to be imported under a pseudonym, like contraband, and relabelled within the country.Its subsequent status of a bestseller proved that all the obstacles were within its stride and that man (and woman) is really a creature desiring what seems unattainable.

Bottle Design: the Oriental Inro
The bottle has a no less interesting tale surrounding it. According to Dinand's autobiography, he was working on a stylized inro, the small wooden box samurais carry on their belts, full of little drawers where herbs, spices and opium for alleviating the pain from their wounds are kept. The little drawers are held together by strings (hence the resulting tassel on the Opium bottle) and the top is crowned with a sculpted ball, called netsuke, replicated in the cap. "That's it!" said Saint Laurent, as soon as he saw it and fixed his mind on calling it Opium, the rest being history.
The advertising had always been titillating, starting with sprawled Jerry Hall, progressing to an unknown red-head (pictured above), through to Kate Moss and Sophie Dahl infamously in the nude (therefore banned but you can see it by clicking the link). Currently Malgosia Bela fronts the ad prints.

Lauder had been secretly working on their own spicy oriental, mysteriously also in a vermilion bottle, named after a mercury mineral found in China and smelling close to Opium,Cinnabar, which launched only weeks later. Yet they never had such commercial success with it, a fact that is treated with silence when you point it out to them. Whether there had been some form of trade espionage has never been proven and is only a figment of speculation.

Scent Description
Baptising yourself in Opium amounts to owning a droplet of the Styx, imparting invulnerability, shunning your combination sinners -- your lecherous liars and your miserly drunkards -- who dishonor the vices and bring them into bad repute. It speaks the tongue of angels through the wiles of devils, fanning its brocade-like resins over your humble existence, marring the opulent flowers and the bright citruses (bergamot, lemon and the orange-tinged essence of coriander) by a contaminated hand of animalistic sin. I can't distinguish any of its constituent parts separately, as they merge into a tremendously forceful message of abandon and escapism from the vagaries of life. Was it my life or did I dream it?
The iron-pressed linen note of the aldehydes in the beginning gives off -coupled with the spicy bite of the carnation accord- a rather "clean" veneer, which allows Opium the distinction of being among the easiest orientals to carry without feeling all soiled underneath your dress. The plumminess is closly interwoven with the balsams in the drydown phase, when the fragrance has dried on the skin and only its whispered message remains; quite woods, trickly resins like benzoin, labdanum and opoponax with an animalic darkness to them from the small footnote of pungent, bitter castoreum in the far end.

Opium never fails to bring forth compliments every single time I wear it and it is the robe de guerre on every occasion where ample backbone is required or a new acquaintance is going to take place. People never identify it as such and always ask what is that magnificent fragrance emanating. Sometimes it's perversely fun to see faces fall when I reveal the true identity, other times it only makes me think long and hard about over saturation of a particular scent in the collective unconscious and the detriment that brings to a whole generation who formed bad associations through it being ubiquitous.

Opium Summer Editions and Comparison of Concentrations
My preferred form is the Eau de toilette, which highlights the spicy bite and the moribund balsams perfectly, although the extrait de parfum is another excellent choice. The Secret de Parfum which had circulated at some point during the early 90s in a cut-out bottle from hard plastic in a hue darker than the original flacon was a concentration that turned me off Eau de Parfum (to which it amounted) . Luckily that error in judgment on the part of YSL Parfums has been amended and the current version of Eau de Parfum is merely denser and more opaque, although still true to the scent. The body products in the range are some of the best I have tried in terms of both fidelity to the scent (they have a slightly pronounced orange note which is very agreeable) and texture which melts under your caress. Men have also been catered for through a men's version that is woodier and more aromatic but also rather spicy, Opium pour homme. As a faithful Opium wearer for years I can attest to it being relatively the same despite possible reformulation. If eugenol however becomes seriously restricted -as has been discussed- then it would risk severe disfigurement. {edit to add, June 2010: Alas, it has...}

In later years, many lighter summer versions launched, as limited editions, aiming at making Opium fit for summer-wear and largely succeeding: Summer Fragrance (2002), Eau d'Eté (2004), Fleur de Shanghai (2005), Fleur Impériale (2006), Orchidée de Chine (2007), Poésie de Chine (2008). My personal favourite is Fleur de Shangai among them, replicated closely in the latest version.
This trend might have started by the non-limited, non-alcoholic Opium Fraicheur d'Orient, which got issued for summer in the mid-90s and which introduced a note from Angel and an intense citrus into the composition, to no particular pleasure derived. A limited edition bottle is Opium Orient Extreme from 2007, which only changes the exterior, not the scent.
Various collector's bottles and versions will continue to get made. As long as it captures the imagination of perfume worshippers at its altar.
Notes:
Top: aldehydes,plum,pepper, tangerine, coriander,bergamot, lemon
Heart: clove, jasmine, cinnamon, rose, peach, orris, myrrh, ylang ylang
Base: benzoin, patchouli, oppoponax, cedar, sandalwood, labdanum, castoreum, musk, vanilla



If you want to watch a small tribute to the opium-escaping hero of Leone, click this link for highlights.

Clips through videosift.com and wellgard on Youtube. Pics via parfumdepub

Leather Series 12: the Modern Leathers

After the Big Bruisers of the 80s, so ingrained into the decade of decadence and carnality, leather scents took a back seat until the modern fragrance niche phenomenon erupted like a well-oiled explosive mechanism, issuing forgotten ripples into the stagnant pond of ozonic-marines of the early 90s. Suddenly those “weird” smells were cool again!

Modern leather scents are divided in so many categories it was a Herculean feat trying to sort them out. There is a leather fragrance for every mood these days.
So this little list is meant to help you navigate your way through the plethora on offer, but it's by no means a definitive guide: that would implicate your own nose.



*The Orientalised Leathers
When leathers take a turn for the Middle East or the exotic spices and dried fruits caravan.

Cuir Mauresque by Serge Lutens: a Moorish scent (therefore of Spanish Leather tradition), it infuses cuir with clove, mandarin rind and aloeswood to turn the smoky heart of Tabac Blond into a modern, sweeter alternative with a little funk.
Cuir Ottoman by Parfums d’Empire: described by a dear friend as “feeling like actually wearing a leather couch” it is uber-luxe, very warm and opulent.
Ambre Russe by Parfums d’Empire: the hangover-ed sister of Cuir Ottoman who drinks dark Russian tea to perk her up.
Cuir Ambré No.3 by Prada: unisex leather with an orientalised twist.
Montale Oud Cuir D'Arabie: intensely leathery with the characteristic mustiness of aromatic oud. For those who go for the potently woody.
Fleur de Peau by Keiko Mecheri: heavy heliotrope over smooth nubbuck, bittersweet, a little soapy, for those who like Daim Blond and can abide sweet leathers.
Parfum d’Habit by Maître Parfumeur et Gantier: lush, with a delectable fruity top married with the rosiness of geranium and patcouli.

*The Quirky Leathers
Some leather fragrances do not want to conform, like spoiled brats who want to do their own thing. Sometimes this is a good thing!

Dzing! by L’artisan: the hide of a living animal, completely weird and therefore compelling. Warm and nuzzling, to some it might even smell like zoo dung, but it might bring out your inner "Cat People".
Black by Bvlgari: rubbery, fetishist and urban. Close to Dzing!, with a more vanillic underlay.
Baladin by De Nicolai: vetiver-smeared leather and you know there is something sophisticated hidding here.
Jean-Luc Amsler Prive Homme: leather nappa stretched on a rock (a mineral touch)
Marquis de Sade by Histoire des Parfums: stewed prunes kept in a leather pouch for consuming au lit, après.
Rose d’Homme by Rosine: or how a rose can smell as sweet by no other name. A bastard who makes you look twice and wins you in the end. For rose-haters.
Idole by Lubin: boozy like a drunken pirate in the Caribbean
Nuit Noire by Mona di Orio: citrus and floral avalanche (orange blossom and tuberose) over an animalic musky and civet-catty note that recalls visions of Lutens at his best.
Corps et Ames by Parfumerie Generale: with a fierce chyprish quality about it, wonderfully unique

*The Butch Leathers
Because some days you want to get out into cow country and never look back.

Lonestar Memories by Andy Tauer: an outdoor smell of leather chaps on someone who has been cooking over a woodfire on a campsite for hours on end. It grabs you and never lets go.
Cuiron by Helmut Lang: an intense slap of leather from an austere designer glove and an invitation to a modern duel
Patchouli 24 by Le Labo: full of birch tar, no patchouli, what a misleading name!

*The Subtle Whisper Leathers
Sometimes there only needs to be a passing whiff...

No.19 by Chanel: the toughness under the white shirt and the powdery iris is the winning combination of elegance.
Kelly Calèche by Hermès: “soles of angel leather” indeed! The prettiest introduction to proper perfumes for a young woman. Quality all the way. A sleeper classic!
Fleur de Narcisse by L’artisan: unattainably heavenly like the rotting corpse of a soldier on a spring field through the eyes of Rimbaud in "Le dormeur de Val" {click Fleur de Narcisse to read the poem and review}.
Dzongkha by L’artisan: the temple smells of wood, but the shoes of the pilgrims left outside have their own tale to recount
Tuscan Leather by Tom Ford Private Blend: opulent aroma of burnt wood and cigar smoke of a poser; rather soft for something named Leather
Vie de Chateau by De Nicolai: starts as traditional cologne, graduates to so much more. Aristocratic.
John Varvatos pour Homme: Varvatos (pronounced Var-VA-tos) is a designer whose name in Greek refers to a man who smells of pungent and quite intense sex juices ~his own! Unfortunately the onomatopoieia has not been entirely successful: it doesn’t smell as such. What a pity: It would have been the perfect ice-breaker!
VIP room: a very interesting, limited edition by the infamous Parisian club house. Suede-like, less sweet than Daim Blond and ultimately a favourite. Too bad it’s getting hard to find!
Etienne Aigner Suede Edition: light, smooth, soft, with a salty undertone of real suede.
Daim Blond by Serge Lutens: suede with sweet apricots and an almondy powdery note, too sweet sometimes.
Cuir Beluga by Guerlain: the merest hint of leather for budding leatheristas, rather sweet.
Habit Rouge by Guerlain: leather hidding under powder; a well-bred gentleman is having a relaxing day at his club.
Cacharel pour Homme: fine suede, rather too traditionally masculine to make a striking impression any more
Kitsune by Armando Martinez: smooth, musky, suede-like and soft like his other nuzzling scents, with a fabulous name.
Histoire d’Eau by Mauboussin: light summery leather that can be worn anywhere really.
Trussardi Donna: why did they reformulate this one? In its white mock croc bottle it was the loveliest torrid affair of feminine flowers and costly nubbuck. I miss it…
Rykiel Woman-not for men! by Sonia Rykiel: a sexy wink of the eye that comes from musk and leather speaks in silence under the mask of powder and amber. Too well blended for anything to pop out.
Vol de Nuit by Guerlain: an exceptional creation that even features a slight hint of leather if you close your eyes and picture Saint-Exupery in his bomber jacket flying over the Sahara.
Shalimar by Guerlain: the bronze deitythat wears this has her eyes kholed and her neck collared with bands of vanillic, powdery leather.
Murasaki by Shiseido: named after the heroine and author of Genji Monogatari (The Tale of Genji),it vibrates into the frequency of purple, soft and fresh like a cosmetic product that stays on you for the day, a sensual reminder.

Read the rest of the Leather Series following these links:
Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4,
Part 5, Part 6, Part 7, Part 8,
Part 9, Part 10, Part 11

Pic of The Avengers and Quills courtesy of Allposters, pic of Marc Jacobs shoes originally uploaded on BlogdorfGoodman

Black Widow: fragrance review (in time for Halloween) & draw!

"Bob Rafelson's Black Widow with its good, flashy star-performances by Debra Winger and Theresa Russell, comes on with the seductiveness of an expensive perfume that inevitably evaporates before the night is over". When the New York Times critic gives you the opening line on a perfume review, you know it's one that has baggage attached. Black Widow ,the fragrance, has a name that might induce mirth, sarcasm or slight apprehension and would fit Halloween's fragrance choice to a T.
A while ago I was contacted by a small brand, Small Wolrd LLC who generously provided a bottle of the fragrance for me to test. (Which was a first!) I assume they went the same route with other bloggers as well, regardless of whether it was inferred or not. I don't flatter myself that I was the only one; decency dictates mentioning it.

Black Widow came with zero expectations, exactly because I was oblivious to its existence. A look at their site revealed a playful page full of catchy slogans, such as "What You Do With Your Prey is Your Business" or "At Least He Went With a Smile On His Face", which really made my evening.
To me nevertheless it is Bob Rafelson's 80s neo-noir that came to mind in a Nescafe-dissolving-in-a-styrofoam-cup kind of way: that is, instantly!

In the homonymous film

"The villain [...] is Catherine (Theresa Russell), beautiful, charming and intelligent woman that seduces and marries a whole bunch of wealthy men only to have them mysteriously die few months later. After collecting inheritance money, she disappears, takes new identity and begins her deadly scheme all over again. Her modus operandi, however, brings the attention of Alexandra Barnes (Debra Winger), workaholic Justice Department investigator. After obsessively tracking down Catherine all over the country, Alexandra finally reaches her at Hawaii. Catherine there wants to pull the same stunt on Paul (Sami Frey), local tycoon. Knowing that she would have to catch Catherine red handed, Alexandra meets her and tries to strike a friendship, not knowing that Catherine has some suspicions too."

(synopsis by Dragan Antulov (1988))

Forget the big shoulder-pads on bright-coloured garments and the at-times-bouffant hair, this was a seriously entertaining neo-noir with a slightly hinted-at lesbian flair which differentiated it from most of the run of the mill productions. It even featured cult cameos by Dennis Hopper, Diane Ladd and Nicol Wiliamson! And if it missed by a shot, sumbitting to the mania for ethical endings, what the heck, it was a fun evening watch.
In one memorable scene, Alex offers a wedding gift to Catherine: a black widow jeweled brooch. And we see Theresa Russell's face smirk both seductively and diabolically as she slowly says: "Black Widow; she mates and she kills. The question is: does she love? It's impossible to answer that unless you live in her world. {she pauses}. Such an intriguing gift..." And then, bang! all the homoeroticism that was latent manifests itself as she grabs Alex by the back of her neck and kisses her violently on the mouth.

Black Widow is a fragrance that could have been chosen by Catherine to prey on her wealthy victims as well as charm women who are on her pursuit. Saturated with spice, it opens up on an intense peppery accent that catches your attention like a razor blade touching your throat. It stays there poised for a while, mixed with a little hesperidic touch, until a cascade of rich, smoky clove weaves itself into the trap laid for the unsuspecting victim: you!
Clove is such an underappreciated note, mostly because of associations with medical appointments involving root canals. But moi, who has never had the need for one, can appreciate it for its qualities beyond: those embryo seeds of Eugenia caryophyllata , full of natural eugenol and caryophylenne, that grows abundantly in Zanzibar are unctuous and lustful for moisture, with a tinge of the sweet in them. In food products, such as biscuits, the aroma is replicated by 1-Acetoxy-2-methoxy-4-propenyl benzene.
Here, in Black Widow, you can appreciate the natural clove essence, as the fragrance is purpotedly made up by naturals, which comes nifty if one considers the aromatheurapeutical benefits of such aphrodisiac essences.
It is this phenolic scent that dominates the heart of the perfume, alternating the sweet with the dry accents throughout as it marries with rich amber, sucking on it vampirically. Other spices such as cinnamon and nutmeg also surface, albeit less prominently, on hair that shines like spiderwebs; and they weave a sexy spell from which the soft, slightly powdery silk of the trully lasting drydown cannot escape unscathed.


The official information provided on the site runs thus:

Black Widow is made from all natural essential oils.
Black Widow is a sweet and spicy oriental
with a rich amber scent, top notes of citrus,
and middle notes of musk and spice, including
cinnamon, clove, and nutmeg.
We realize it is hard to describe a perfume with words so we hope it helpsto say that Black Widow resembles a fresher updated version of Opium.

I believe that the comparison with Opium is perhaps unjust, as it places Black Widow on the shadow, not appreciated for what it is; especially given the fact that it lacks the orange-mandarin aspect of the former and its intense floral-woody accord, concentrating instead on the natural spices and the ambery base. However, if you like spicy orientals such as Black Widow is not a bad scent to start your seduction ploys with. And "Oh! what a tangled web you will weave". Until a Federal Investigator catches you, that is...


Black Widow comes as a lasting Cologne Spray in simple, round black bottles of 60ml/2oz in a black box nand can be ordered directly from the Black Widow site here and also from Henri Bendel NYC, Heebee Jeebees in Colorado Springs and the Pleasure Chest in West Hollywood (so you know it has something going on for it! *wink*)

Please note that shipping costs to Europe or overseas might be a little different than those stated for the US.

Since we have such an abundance of the fragrance at our disposal, I am offering samples to readers who comment and a lucky draw for a decant of it to one lucky winner!

Poster of the film through impawards.com