Jean Couturier Coriandre: fragrance review & history

Coriandre by Jean Couturier first piqued my interest when I read Susan Irvine's description of it: "fit for a red headed Raymond Chandler heroine". Which means I sorta came late to it, considering Irvine was quoted saying it in her 2000 book. Perfume Shrine has long worshipped at the altar of film noir heroines and their universe and this was like a bowl of cream in front of a hungry kitten: irresistible!

via aromo.ru

Trying it out on my own skin after years of loving chypre fragrances I was struck by its discretion. Subtle and refined, it didn't speak of the femme fatale so much, but of a patchouli and geranium wreath around roses of a dark red hue, an elegant missile of indoors denotation. Contrary to its name, Coriandre doesn't predominantly smell of coriander (which has a herbaceous scent reminiscent of sweet oranges, lightly spicy), although there is discernible spiciness to it that does not recall the culinary. The green pong of angelica makes it dry and somehow young despite appearances to the contrary.

Jacqueline Couturier

Created in 1973 by Couturier's own wife Jacqueline, who was Grasse-trained and an heir to perfumers, Coriandre was the foundation on which the Couturier Parfums brand was established. Couturier wasn't a budding designer, on the contrary. Having began his career at Saint Laurent, he self-proclaims to have been involved in the development of both Y perfume and Rive Gauche fragrance. Whatever the story is, his wife has indeed worked in the fragrant sector, the daughter and grand-daughter of perfumers, one of the few women in this field at the time.

Coriandre comes in a bottle topped by a green malachite-looking cap, beautifully veined, an image reflected in the packaging. The 1990s slogan was stressing its classy demeanor: Habillez-vous "boutique", parfumez-vous "Couturier" (A playful wordplay on the designer's name, roughly translated as "Dress High Street, but perfume yourself haute couture). Another publicity from the 1970s extolled its mysterious freshness: "all the scents of the evening and already the freshness of the night". And then there is the typically French, typically mischievous -on so many levels- advertisement I have put at the top of this fragrance review, a woman sitting on a chair with her shirt ripped off at the shoulder, tagged "Coriandre, the perfume which makes you question the value of civilization". [whoah? pretty racy, eh?]

If I were head of their advertising department today I'd suggest they stress its uniqueness in a sea of Armanis, Flowerbombs and DKNYs. Little known, but contrary to many classic chypre perfumes's aesthetic not "old fashioned smelling" enough to deter a younger clientele, although it certainly doesn't do any favors to those raised on candy floss scents. This is exactly why I'm including it in my Underrated Perfume Day feature on PerfumeShrine, a regular column highlighting little known but worthwhile fragrances which are still in production, so if you're taking notes, take a note now.

Coriandre by Jean Couturier has been a little surgically enhanced compared to the 1973 vintage (this happened in 1993, circulating as Parfum de toilette), but it didn't involve a complete face-lift which is good news to its acolytes. Consider yourself honored and not humbled to be included in the latter. If you like the original Agent Provocateur eau de parfum in the pink ostrich egg bottle, you have good chances of finding a good companion in Couturier's Coriandre.

via vagdistri.com

Available from newsparfums.com and other etailers for reasonable prices. Careful, there is also Eau de Coriandre, a different scent, not just a different concentration, from 1996.

Official fragrance notes for Coriandre:
Top: Coriander, Aldehydes, Angelica, Bergamot, Orange blossom
Middle: Rose, Geranium, Jasmine, Orris, Ylang Ylang, Lily
Base: Patchouli, Sandal, Vetiver, Oakmoss, Civet

Patricia de Nicolai Amber Oud: fragrance review

Patricia de Nicolai is repositioning themselves (the new bottles being one of the hints), if intimations are any indication, and no luxury niche brand today is complete without a generous helping of the infamous oud perfume ingredient. Not that there were any audible borborygmi coming from our collective perfumista stomachs craving oud, but apparently a boy or a girl can never have too much oud; or so the aroma producing companies would make us believe. Amber Oud by de Nicolai however is oud prowling in kitten's paws, so delicate and purring you might be mistaken for thinking there is some problem with the labeling. Because Amber Oud is mostly a glorious aromatic amber fragrance with copious helpings of premium grade lavender fanned on resinous, plush notes of velvet.

via TheOtherAlice/Tumblr

The combination of amber (a 19th century trope resting on labdanum & vanillin) with oud/aloeswood is not unknown to niche or Arabian-inspired perfumes; if only in name, both Diptyque and by Kilian have utilized this blend to good effect (there's also the Rasashi and Arabian Oud brands). The nutty and musty character of the modern oud/aoud/oudh bases with their Band-Aid vibe is very well tempered by a tried & true combination that somewhat sweetens the bitterness of oud and renders it more Westernized and silky to the touch. Tonka bean and lavender is also "a marriage of true minds". This 2 by 4 is played like a quartet that produces a single harmony.



In Patricia de Nicolai's Amber Oud the blast of lavender at the beginning is the dominant force which takes you by surprise and which might make women think this is more men's gear than girly girl stuff. But they need not fear. Gents and ladies alike will appreciate the seamless procession into a balsamic smelling nucleus. The inclusion of sage is beautifully erogenous, recalling human bodies in sweat, cleverly juxtaposed with the washed brightness of the lavender and the camphorous hint of patchouli. Seekers of oud (lured by the name) might feel cheated and there is no eye-catching innovativeness in the formula itself, but de Nicolai is continuing on a path of wearable, presentable, smooth perfumes that have earned her brand a steady following.


Notes for Patricia de Nicolai Amber Oud:
Top: lavender, thyme, sage, artemisia
Heart: cinnamon, saffron, agarwood (oud), Atlas cedar, patchouli, sandalwood
Base: vanilla, tonka bean, styrax, musk, castoreum, amber.

Tabu by Dana: fragrance review & free vintage perfume giveaway

Tabu by Dana has always had a reputation wickeder than its actual self ("for women who wear their knickers on their heads" [1]), like a girl at high school that everyone thought was promiscuous, while in fact she had being going steady with the older mysterious guy from college. Let's just describe it in style or literary terms: it's not the sort of perfume you'd envision on Audrey Hepburn, but rather on Constance Chatterley. Someone who, although not promiscuous, is not only full aware but exhibiting of the pressing need of their sexual urges.

It all goes back to Javier Sera, the founder of the Spanish house of Dana, who had apparently asked for "un parfum de puta" (a whore's brew) from his perfumer Jean Carles. This was surrealist times back in 1932, so the modern shock should be minimized. The publication of Totem and Taboo [2] had already come 2 decades ago, therefore the name had gained a widespread familiarity and at the same time that frisson of the forbidden it truly represents. Tabu was to be the ultimate "fragrance taboo" now that the divides of society thanks to the aftermath of WWI had crumbled in several cases. Dana's Tabu would reprise for good the dubious essences that the demi-monde alone enjoyed during La Belle Epoque, rendering it both a unity unto itself and segregating it from polite society. Dana thus exploited the awakened sensuality which lift the lid in the two decades between the two World Wars and the wanderlust therein not dormant anymore. Its exceedingly successful course in the market for several decades indicates that this was not just relevant to those times. We can see its impact on both En Avion (Caron, same year, same general concept but played on the leather chypre scale) and the more powdery oriental Bal a Versailles (Desprez, 1962), not to mention milestones such as  Youth Dew, YSL Opium and Coco by Chanel.

Carles, who had not yet lost his sense of smell and worked at Roure, composed a classic, a formula that took the oriental "mellis accord" and gave it wings pulling into two different but equally potent directions: one was the spicy floral & patchouli chord (composed via eugenol, spices and patchouli) and the other the brontide notes of civet, labdanum and musk. The full formula contains also benzyl salicylate and hydroxycintronellal for added radiance and oomph and indeed putting a few drops of even the lighter concentrations of Tabu on the skin amount to having a full on orchestra accompanying your solitary whistling tune. The lighter, citric or floral notes (bergamot, orange blossom, neroli and a heart of rose and ylang) only act as see through veils under which we can gaze at Salome's voluptuous body. A kind of sophisticated apodyopsis fit for a psychoanalyst's couch: one can only imagine the naked body underneath the clothes that waft Tabu. True to its advertising "when Tabu becomes a part of you, you become apart of all others" and despite its carnal reputation it wears as a very fetching, sultry but suave fragrance that both women and men can enjoy.


The advertising history of Dana's Tabu perfume makes for a whole chapter by itself, full of passionate images of torrid affairs. I have touched upon the subject on the linked post, so if you're curious take a peak.

Tabu is still available at drugstores and online, though the modern formulations are thinned out and lacking a certain "kick" compared to 30 years ago. This is the reason I'm offering a vintage miniature to one lucky reader as a small Xmas gift. Post a comment below to enter. Draw is open internationally till Sunday midnight and winner will be announced sometime on Monday.

[1]Susan Irvine in the Perfume Guide, 2000. 
[2]Sigmund Freud, Totem and Taboo: Similarities between the lives of savages and neurotics, 1913.

DSH Parfums de Beaux Arts -Passport a Paris (from Passport to Paris Collection): fragrance review

The Passport to Paris Collection is a trio of perfumes exploring the fin de siècle (that is, the 19th century's prolonged swan song) which perfumer and painter Dawn Spencer Hurwitz produced in collaboration with the Denver Art Museum celebrating La Belle Epoque. Passport à Paris, primus inter pares, is Dawn's homage to the growling fougères of the late 19th century, namely Guerlain's Jicky and Houbigant's Fougère Royale; in a way closer to the real thing than one would expect, especially since the slimming regime the former has gone through via the rationing of civet. Indeed experiencing  Passport à Paris I'm left with the agonizing realization that this is the kind of perfumery we have been lamenting for lost, only we haven't quite understood that its salvation can only come through artisanship and a rebellious spirit coming not from the Old World, but from the New one.

Fittingly, the fragrance was inspired by a famous painting from the late 19th century, the eerily alienating, ennui filled Beach at Tourville by Claude Monet. In it a world of repressions the simple beachside pleasures are encapsulated with a silent tension (a sort of oil painting rendition of Edith Wharton's Age of Innocence), faces like a smear of paint, an impressionistic image of boredom or unfulfilled desires. In a way the perfume genre that got invented with the thrashing of the powerful new synthetics is a rebellious antithesis to that same ennui.

I'm not in the habit of oooh-ing and aaah-ing as I walk about the rooms in my home, but to my amazement I found myself doing just that (to the incredulous gaze of my significant other) as I had sprayed my wrists and neck with Dawn's magnificent animalic perfume Passport à Paris. Lovers of vintage Jicky, please take note. This is good stuff. This is amazing stuff. No hyperbole. A bit more lemony, citrusy up top maybe than the Guerlain classic, especially in the modern form, but soon opening to a gorgeous meowling heart of lavender, dark jasmine and rich civet paste, smooth, hay-like and plush thanks to the conspiracy of vanillin and coumarin, an orientalized unisex more than just a masculine trope reminiscent of shaving cream (if that's your idea of fougère, that's not it by a mile).
Passport à Paris is also tremendously lasting on the skin and, really, just beautiful.

I'm of the belief that too many words cheapen the experience of savoring a sensual pleasure for yourself; a bit of "analysis-paralysis", if you will. So I'm leaving you with one directive and one directive only: try it. Like, right now!


Notes for Parfums de Beaux Arts Passport à Paris:
Lemon, bergamot, French lavender, rosewood, mandarin, grandiflorum jasmine, Bulgarian rose, orris root CO2, Clover, Australian sandalwood, amber, vanillin, coumarin, ambergris, East Indian patchouli, civet

Available in the DSH e-boutique (samples start at just 5$)

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

Chanel Coco by Chanel: fragrance review

Coco by Chanel must be among a handful of fragrances on the market to have not only one, but two flankers without being a spectacular market success to begin with. Flankers are supporting fragrances coat-tailing on the success of the original perfume, borrowing part of the name of the original as well as the bottle mould, but differing in scent and target demographics. Coco has two: Coco Mademoiselle, an alarmingly successful best-seller for youngish women that has far eclipsed the original, and Coco Noir, a woody fragrance of recent crop with dubious presence on the market as yet. Today Coco seems old fashioned and aimed only at mature women, fading-to-market-black, but soon after it came out it profited of a marketing campaign that positioned it as a sexy debutante scent, fronted by then teenager Vanessa Paradis! Funny how perceptions change and we used to wear Ungaro Diva and the like when not yet out of high school, right?

The most astounding personal association I have with Coco has always been one that pertains to its market share, not the scent itself: In all my many years of perfume observation & appreciation I have never met in real life a person owning a bottle of Coco, a fact which had always struck me as weird considering the continued presence of the perfume on the counters. Chanel No.19 is also an undivided presence on the local counters (and a steady seller according to SAs), but I actually know people who wear it, I smell it on the street from time to time and I have seen bathroom shelves with a bottle of it proudly displayed more than once or twice. Someone must be buying Coco too, then, right?
But let's take things at the top.

Aiming to capture a more Baroque side of Chanel, taking the sobriquet given to Gabrielle Chanel by her escapee father and inspired by Gabrielle's Rue Cambon apartment with its casket-like rooms full of Venetian glass, Chinoiserie panels and leather bound books, house perfumer Jacques Polge set out to compose a true 1980s perfume following the commercial smash hit of YSL Opium: bold, brash, take no prisoners. And he succeeded in the most part.

The fragrant secrets of Coco by Chanel
One of the peculiarities of Coco is that it was among the first perfumes to be conceived not as an extrait de parfum first but rather envisioned in its diluted form of eau de parfum. The market had gone away from the more discreet, more intimate use of parfum extrait and demanded a really powerful spray that would announced the wearer before she was seen; ergo the eau de parfum (and sometimes the parfum de toilette) concentration, less expensive than extrait but rivaling its lasting power, while at the same time being extra loud thanks to the volatility boost via the spraying mechanism.

The secret ingredient in the formula of Coco by Chanel is the inclusion of the base Prunol*, a rich and dark "dried fruits & spices" mélange famously exalted in Rochas Femme by Edmond Roudnitska, which gives Coco a burnished hint of raisin. The cascade of honeyed spices immediately asserts itself: pimento, cardamom, cinnamon, cumin and clove, while the overall feeling is one of amber plush and resinous warmth (with a wink of leather) with the flowers folded into a rich batter and undiscernable. The patchouli (tucked into the Prunol base) gives a whiff of chocolate, though, in the words of Susan Irvine, not even a fashion innovator of the magnitude of Chanel would have considered a note reminiscent of a bedtime drink as worthy of consideration in fine fragrance. (One would perversely wish she had lived through present fruitchouli-infested times to see how she'd chuckle under her smartly cuffed sleeve.)

A Perfume Apart
Coco by Chanel enjoys something of a revered status among perfumistas, so it's not clear whether it should be considered an "underrated perfume" in the first place, but my inclusion in the Underrated Perfume Day series isn't totally random as it would appear on first sight nevertheless. First of all it was demanded by quite a lot of readers. Secondly, this is the kind of perfume that I should be theoretically crazy about (a spicy oriental in the mold of my beloved YSL vintage Opium, Cinnabar, Feminité du Bois and Krizia Teatro alla Scala) and yet I am not. Indeed I have been trying it on and off for decades now.

However when married with a huge bottle of Coco (extrait de parfum in spray no less) I had the following peculiar problem, for something so -allegedly- admired: I could NOT swap it with other interested perfumephiles no matter what! I tried everything: stooping to suggesting I'd trade for inexpensive eaux de toilette from mainstream brands, offering to supplement with generous niche samples, pleading "please take it off my hands, it's a shame it should collect dust, just take it already". No one wanted it. I finally gifted it off to a women's shelter where its whereabouts have been lost to me. The perfume lover who had sold it to me in the first place recounted to me the exact same problem: "I spent two years trying to get this thing off my hands; when you came along and showed an interest I couldn't believe it".

Is Coco by Chanel something that perfumistas like to reference but rarely -if ever- wear? Are its wearers merely nostalgic for the 1980s, a time they were young and more optimistic, and therefore owning a little bottle is just that, a memento of carefree times? Is it, finally, past its due and not that spectacular to begin with? I think a bit of all those things. One thing however that it did magnificently well was its advertising by Jean Paul Goude: Vanessa Paradis as an exotic bird in a cage whistling to the meowing of a big greedy cat outside and "l' ésprit de Chanel" as the tag line. Coco Chanel would have been proud.

For more perfume reviews of such fragrances check out the Underrated Perfume Day feature and scroll for more musings. 

*For modern takes on the Prunol type base in perfumes, look no further than Bottega Veneta eau de parfum, Chinatown by Bond no.9 and Mon Parfum Chéri by Camille (Annick Goutal).

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.

Puredistance Black: fragrance review

Fermented prunes, cognac in oak barrels and handfuls of woolen knits folded into camphoraceous tissue paper that emits that borderline vibe between poison and medicine. Shadows growing longer and longer as the passage of the sun on the horizon wanes; lacquered furniture glowing in the flick of tallow candlelight; crayon designs fatty and saturated hanging off the walls depicting strange faces of old Asian men. There's a certain oiliness and smokiness about Puredistance Black, the upcoming perfume launch by the niche company founded in Vienna, Austria,, adorning it with the striking bone structure of a silent film icon, when shadow and light played the game of drawing the eye across a never ending vista of possibilities; even the slightest tremor of facial muscles gained reinforced nuance in this medium. Or to quote Lydia in Beetlejuice: "Well, I've read through that handbook for the recently deceased. It says: 'live people ignore the strange and unusual'. I, myself, am strange and unusual."

via latino-review.com

Puredistance has wisely limited its aromatic outpour to one fragrance per year (or even less frequently) choosing to differentiate itself from the many niche brands who dilute their essence in too many simultaneous launches. It has also set the bar pretty high with their stupendous masculine M fragrance and their graceful I and Opardu perfume for women, so expectations are understandably high for their newest release. Black doesn't disappoint, especially since it fills a void in the line that we hadn't realized was there. It's different enough from the leathery and attention-grabbing M fragrance with its elegant 1960s character, and projects as something darker, untamed by the ways of the civilized world. The concentration of 25% essence in Black certainly guarantees a rich experience, however the concept of a whispering scent is adhered to most faithfully; the secrets of Puredistance Black are revealed very slowly, discreetly, from mouth to ear rather than on speakers, a feat by perfumer Antoine Lie (famous for the infamous Secretions Magnifiques and many Etat Libre d'Orange fragrances, among others), given the intensity of the raw materials.

The company doesn't give away any of those raw materials. I absolutely love this; it will make reading and hearing impressions by those who will subsequently test Puredistance Black a real treat, as the mind often interferes with what the nose perceives. Mine is attacked by a quasi-brutal opening with a tangy citric fruitiness allied to the darkest, earthiest patchouli possible, like snails coming out of the bush in the dusk, but the cloak of the night soon mollifies it with a woody cluster of honeyed plummy-cedar notes reminiscent of the Lutens canon and a "suede" orientalism. The sweet melange is also reminiscent of pipe tobacco, laced with a boozy aftertaste that lingers. (I hypothesize smoky cypriol/cyperus and vetiver should be featured too). Chewy, a meat course for non vegetarians.

The essence of the concept for Black by Puredistance was to create a perfume that is close to the wearer and releases sensual and elegant scent layers in a whispering way—without shouting. A mysterious fragrance that stays in the shadow, giving away —only every now and then—part of its nature. Perfumer Antoine Lie loved the concept presented by founder Jan Ewoud Vos and created a sophisticated perfume full of charm with the same elegant personality as the timeless classic Puredistance I, but then more masculine and oriental.

via shootxmylife

If I were to offer a comparative assessment, even though the press material does coach me not to analyze too much, I'd say Puredistance Black reminds me of the darkness and weirdness factor of Goutal's Un Parfum Cheri, par Camille, fueled by an intense Indonesian patchouli grade replete with all its earthy chocolate and darkness "dirty" facets. But whereas this shadowy woody chypre flopped for Goutal, alienating the regular customer who hankered after delicate florals resting atop angels' wings, Puredistance has the cojones to follow through on the sheer sparsity and clarity of their line: there is no "definitive" demographic for Puredistance (yet) and this plays to the company's advantage.  Black would be also liked by those who appreciate Borneo 1834 and Bois de Violette or by oudh and tobacco fragrances fans, as the bittersweet oriental feel would appeal. Although marketed as a masculine, in many ways it's what Coco Noir might have been (a scent marketed to modern women who shun florals and sweet gourmands). Minor gripe about the name (thingamagick) as we have discussed before, but one can't deny its evocative powers.

According to Puredistance, Black is created in Paris by the famous French perfumer Antoine Lie and it will be available from December 2013 in 17.5, 60 and 100 ml flacons.

In the interests of disclosure I was sent a sample vial by the company pre-release.

Giorgio Armani Si: fragrance review

It wouldn't be inaccurate to claim that Sì, the latest feminine fragrance by Giorgio Armani, is L'Oreal's (the parent company of Armani parfums) answer to the commercial success of Lancôme's La Vie Est Belle from the previous year. Both are competent but rather forgettable perfumes that are sure to capture and retain the demographic they're aimed at: 35-50 year old women seeking something a little more sophisticated than the average fruity floral at department stores, while still not shocking anyone with their limp-wristed, yet persistent, wake of scent.

They're the Empire State Building rather than the strikingly asymmetrical Reykjavík’s Harpa Concert Hall & Conference Center. The tousled hair rom-com heroine rather than Irene Dunne. And a predictably lyrical novel that reads like a self-help book by Paulo Coelho rather than Orhan Pamuk. No, strike the last aphorism out: the fragrances in question are not Coelho-bad, surely!

Several small details point to the correlation between the two scents, Sì and La vie est belle. I mean.
The blackcurrant top note revisits a theme that was forgotten for long (First by Van Cleef & Arpels brought it into the scene and it's famously giving the piquancy in niche cult L'Ombre Dans l'Eau by Diptyque). They share a small fruity lactonic chapter (reminiscent of peach and pear). They both are buttressed by the familiar contemporary patchouli with woody-smelling Iso E Super and musks, plus a cotton candy vanilla note that -especially in the Lancome fragrance- instantly references Angel to anyone's mind. In Sì, the feel of a nouveau chypre (see our article for more on those) is enhanced by a cosmetics-smelling chord that is feminine and subtly intimate: the rosy note is simply put buoyed by soft, powdery violets like in many lipsticks and face powders.
Giorgio Armani's Sì is less sweet overall, with a drier, less cushion-like ambience. The cleaned-up feel and powdery abstraction recall segments of Knowing, a forgotten 1980s perfume by Estée Lauder. As per the perfumer, Christine Nagel of Mane, the base of Armani Sì includes Orcanox, which is another name for Ambroxan or Ambrofix (an aromachemical with an abstract woody-ambery scent aiming to recall natural ambergris), that gives great diffusion and tenacity to modern fragrances; indeed this Armani is one of them.

The official fragrance notes for Guorgio Armani Sì include blackcurrant, freesia, rose, vanilla, patchouli, blond woods, orcanox.

The choice of actress extraordinaire Cate Blanchett as the fronting woman for Armani's latest fragrance ("Cate Blanchett says Sì" -i.e. "yes" in Italian- is the motto of the campaign) has created the expectation of something truly exceptional and smart, like she is herself -the modern equivalent of Katherine Hepburn. Maybe the stakes were just too high. Sì just couldn't possibly live up to it or the "chypre reinvented" perfumista-nod on top of this. That doesn't mean it's not a pleasant fragrance; you could do much worse in the department store circuit, I'd wager.
Lovely bottle (in 1, 1.7 and 3.4oz of eau de parfum at major department stores), reminiscent of the Armani Privé perfume bottles aesthetic, a nice bonus.

Below, watch the official film for Giorgio Armani Sì (rather uninspired if you ask me, though beautifully shot by director Anne Fontaine) and a small interview with Christine Nagel where she explains the fundamental blocks of the perfume composition.

Le Labo Ylang 49: fragrance review

Ylang 49, newly launched by Le Labo this summer, is more treacherous to its assumed floral disposition and deceptively crepuscular: like murder-experienced, gold-digging, vacationing in Hawaii for one last trick Theresa Russell in 1987's "Black Widow", there's a bit of that Seattle rainy weather she just escaped from accompanying her sunny blonde exterior. The fruity sweetness of the ylang and the tropical tiare gardenia (the Tahitian Pua Noa Noa) are underscored by a green and resinous backdrop rich in mossy, earthy tones, that casts a long, long shadow.

Perfumer Frank Voelkl, who was also involved in the creation of Le Labo Santal 33 Iris 39, Musc 25 and Baie Rose 26, created with Ylang 49 a deceptive composition that zigs when you expect it to zag. Not exactly the "New Chypre it's touted to be (we're a long way from the perfume-y, lady-like, strict ambience of the classic chypres), it's all the same further removed from the scrubbed 18-year-old faces of the "floral woody musks" with their cleaned-up patchouli & vetiver under fluorescent florals that we affectionally call "nouveau or pink chypres" on these pages (you know, Narciso for Her, SJP Lovely, Idylle, L'Eau de Chloe, Chypre Fatal etc).

Not the typical ylang floral with jasmine-like sweetness (an inherent part of the ylang ylang absolute itself), much like Theresa Russell isn't your typical blonde American actress, I'm instead discovering a richly nuanced tapestry in Ylang 49 where every thread is shimmering with full conviction that they're contributing to the mysterious whole, just like the tiny clues federal agent Alex Barnes, obsessed and under the seductive spell of the murderess, collects to get to the heart of the Black Widow's fatal game.

Just great!

Notes for Le Labo Ylang 49:
Ylang ylang, Tahitian gardenia, patchouli, oakmoss, vetiver, sandalwood, benzoin

Stills from the 1987 Bob Raffelson film noir "Black Widow" (recommended) via thefancarpet.com

Disclosure: I was a sample directly by the company. 

Acqua di Parma Colonia: Fragrance Review & Giveaway of Luxurious Body Products Set

It had been ages since I had last smelled the refined herbal, acrid top notes of Acqua di Parma's cologne, atavistically named Colonia and encased in the sunniest crocus yellow this side of the earth's "omphalos". (Seriously, if there's one shade in the beauty business packaging to rival Hermes's coveted orange and Tiffany's delicate robin-egg blue, it's Aqua di Parma's yellow; a true trademark). It was the mid-1990s, I recall, when I was first taken with the "niche" circuit and when coincidentally Diego della Valle decided to rescue not only driving shoes (establishing the famous Tod's loafer) but also credible Italian cologne resold as a refined commodity since at least the times of Jean Marie Farina. Acqua di Parma was immediately eye-catching but it was the simple, to the point elegance of subtlety (fragrance wearing for the pleasure of fragrance wearing -not announcing any deep and meaningful messages about one's self importance) which cinched the deal. My first bottle found its rightful place on my vanity. The rest is history.

via

In Alfie, the modern version of the film from 2004, this is all Jude Law, devastatingly charming*, with a full head of hair thank you very much and ruining his marriage with the help of Sienna Miller, used to have on his bathroom shelf: Acqua di Parma Colonia. And who can blame him**? Apparently the scent scored, as scads of females were hankering for his guiles, Susan Sarandon in all her mature knowingness no less. The cineaste reference isn't without peer: reportedly both Ava Gardner and Cary Grant liked and wore Acqua di Parma's classic cologne in the 1930s. Today you can feel like a movie star when stepping out of the bath of any 5 star hotel in the world where Acqua di Parma bath and body products are a sine qua non.

The story of Acqua di Parma goes like this: In 1916 Master perfumers created a new fragrance in a small laboratory in Parma using natural ingredients. It was an unusually fresh and modern fragrance – the first true Italian Cologne. Today Acqua di Parma is still true to its heritage. The fragrances and the packaging are still both hand-designed and Acqua di Parma is an iconic symbol of the refined, exclusive, and purest Italian lifestyle.

via 

The brilliance of Colonia by Acqua di Parma lies in the intensely sunny, succulent marriage of both sweet orange rind essence and bitter orange notes (citrus aurantia from which neroli, petit-grain and orange blossom absolute derive) to the soapy mossiness of the base; it gives a genuinely chyprish scent nuance, evocative of tall cypresses, proudly standing against Tuscany winds, with a backdrop of lemony verbena, delicate rose and a hint of patchouli, like spots of sienna tiles and stuccoed walls silhouetted serenely in the distance. It's enough to shed away your winter stressed shell and bask in the Italian sunshine Ava-style. Who in their right mind could ask for more?

Notes for Acqua di Parma Colonia:
Bergamot, Citrus, Lemon, Bitter Orange, Sweet Orange, English Lavender, Bulgarian or Damascene Rose, Verbena, Clary Sage, Rosemary, Cedarwood, Patchouli, Sandalwood, Vetiver, Oakmoss.

For our readers, we have a luxe gift set of Colonia bath & shower gel, hair conditioner and body lotion in the glorious yellow boxes and bags. Please enter a comment to be eligible. Draw is open internationally till Wednesday midnight. Winner to be announced sometime in Thursday.

*it is my personal quirk that I prefer his portrayal of the murderer photographer in the grim & great  Road to Perdition...don't mind me.
** this film still tells you all about the intended audience of the product placement

In the interests of disclosure, I was given the set via a PR opportunity. 

Roxana Illuminated Perfume Figure 1: Noir : Fragrance Review

The darkness of the night descends on the village, its tall chimneys and church bell tops eclipsed by the long shadows cast by primordial spirits, by wraiths, the flashes of strange illuminations marshaling the nighttime sky like snuffed pyrotechnics. The earth below, seemingly barren, hides in its gut an untrammeled secret, a secret with long tentacles creeping beneath soil and rock.



This Figure 1: Noir, this study on the inherent darkness of patchouli essence and of unusual herbal aromatics has an intoxicating effect, the murmur of perverse sweetness traveling on the wavelength of a morbid longing. What is it that makes these chthonian vibes rebound in one's heart of hearts? What is this calling, this piper who promises a golden lair and the forests echoing with laughter? There are things which we do not speak of. There are emotions we cannot put into a defined shape, marking the outline separating inner from outer world. Similarly, Figure 1: Noir sparked that eternally unfulfilled curiosity, that desire to capture the uncapturable, swirls of low earth rising for the skies, flesh vying to become spirit.

Figure 1: Noir is an intriguing all naturals perfume oddity, deep and resinous with a loamy plume of botanical musk featuring harmonious notes of patchouli, green vetiver, Mysore sandalwood, orris and valerian juxtaposed with the pungent tartness of buchu leaf, black cumin, green cognac and davana. The effect is as intimate and universal as human skin with an unsettling wild animalic shadow.

Available by Roxana Illuminated Perfume at Etsy in both liquid perfume and solid. (Image illustration by Greg Spalenka)

Neela Vermeire Creations Bombay Bling!: fragrance review

What do we know of India really? Its people say सत्यमेव जयते (i.e. truth alone triumphs), a motto inscribed in all local currency, but to our western mind this vast country is a tapestry of so colorful a thread and such intricate a yearn that it is almost impossible to exhaust it if one had two lifetimes over to do so. Bombay Bling! by Neela Vermeire Créations aims to give us a glimpse of this tapestry. Testing it I was expecting to savor this complexity; to paraphrase Dracula addressing Harker before coming to London, I so longed to go through the crowded streets of your mighty Bombay, to be in the midst of the whirl and the rush of humanity, to share its life, its changes, its deaths. The fragrance didn't disappoint. On the contrary. It rekindled the desire to go to India again, to merge myself with it.

Source: behance.net via Kjirsten on Pinterest

Bombay Bling! by Neela Vermeire is meant to fuse the dichotomy of India: the advances of the economic world and the colorful culture. The underbelly of the big city combined with the glitter of Bollywood on the vast sandy stretches of Juhu beach and the Queen’s necklace. Fortunes made and lost on the Bombay stock exchange and gambling dens of Mumbai. Beyond the Deccan plateau's archeological ruins...a figurative arm's length beyond the place where Alexander the Great wept, his fate, glory and dreams behind him, before him only the sea...where the cenotaphs of rajputs of Jaisalmer lie... there, in that still shrouded land a giant is stretching its legs and testing its strength; India. An exuberant fragrance, Bombay Bling! takes as a point of departure the mingling of tart, juicy fruits (an unripe mango veering into citrusy tang) squirted over lush flowers of the subcontinent and underscored with a humming woody backdrop. The deep, earthy sweetness of patchouli leaves blends with the banana note of the ylang. Brown sugar and cumin-like intimacy, like when you're smelling a lover's sweat, dripping on sandalwood chippings; milky, soft drydown, yet radiant and fun loving, like a lime and paprika dish with a side of mango chutney. Above all Bombay Bling! is optimism in a bottle!

Bombay Bling! is part of the original trio of fragrances issued by Neela Vermeire Créations which also includes Trayee and Mohur (the fourth instalment, Ashoka, is launching soon). These Indian inspired perfumes, like Chants of India, draw upon the tradition, history and cultural milieu of that vast Eastern sub-continent in which Neela herself has roots. These are truly "transparent orientals", modern and wearable, and therefore it comes as no surprise that Neela commissioned Bertrand Duchaufour to compose them for her niche line.

They are all satisfying tenacious and project with varying force, with Trayee the most introverted and Bombay Bling the most extroverted. Their trail is delicious, creating a lasting impression.

Notes for Neela Vermeire Creations Bombay Bling:
Mango, lychee, blackcurrant, cardamom, cumin, cistus, Turkish rose, jasmine sambac, ylang-ylang, tuberose, plumeria, gardenia, patchouli, tobacco, sandalwood, cedar, vanilla

Bombay Bling! is available as an Eau de Parfum 55ml (in refillable flacons), available at select stockists and on www.neelavermeire.com, where you can find a discovery set

The song is of course originally from film Mother India (music by Ali Naushad Saab) but this is a very popular Greek-lyric version called "My poor heart, how can you bear it" (lyrics written in the 1960s by Demetris Goutis) hereby sung by Eleni Vitali. A small token of appreciation of one people to another...

Disclosure: I was a sample by Neela. 

Ramon Monegal Mon Patchouly: fragrance review

Mon Patchouly, part of the impressive new Ramón Monegal perfume collection from the former owner & perfumer of Spanish Myrurgia (since swallowed by Puig), straddles the line between woody oriental fragrance and oriental "gourmand", intended for people of either sex persuasion who love soft, rich, deep scents that invite you closer with a delicious Jon Hamm hum rather than proclaim their aggressive intentions with mock bravado. It's patchouli reinvented; traditional, yet new; an overdone fragrance note of the 2000s which here gains a precious, quietly exciting patina.

via http://nowandthan.tumblr.com/post/19390848880

The association with the suave Midwestern actor is reinforced by the subtly retro "masculine cologne" hint ~with its herbal indefinable rosy touch under the musk and woods~ that Mon Patchouly exhibits, further enhanced by the rum & whiskey tonality it gains as it unfolds its dry cocoa powder opening on the skin. It's enough to induce daydreaming of more elegant times, when men were virile and women were femmes. Aside from the phenomenal lasting power of the fragrance on my wrists ~withstanding an entire extended weekend that involved 2 showers, one prolonged sea dip (!) and several hand washings, obviously~ Mon Patchouly is also distinguished by its variability according to the skin it performs on.

On my own feminine skin, this RM perfume sweetens, mollifying the intense gourmand dryness of French roast coffee dregs & cocoa of Borneo 1834 by Serge Lutens. Fans of Montale Boisée Vanille and L'Artisan Havana Vanille/Absolument Vanille might find a similar boozy, darkish, real vanilla pods note hiding; rich and resonant, full of complexity and sub-plots, sometimes the latter even slightly repelling but always compelling. On my significant other's male skin Mon Patchouly dried down more resinous ambery, though not quite the thick, beer-belly-amber we know from elsewhere; I detect a hint of raisin and smoke too which provide contrast, probably revealed by skin Ph magic. The fragrance has the right balance and artistry not to fall into the over-familiarized (Just think, how many sweet amber patchoulis can you name at gun point? This isn't one of them).

The mossier, greener, woodier elements come forth from the back like dark secrets of a life behind closed doors, trysts during lunch break and hushed phone-calls, while still retaining the cigar box elegance and connoisseur complexity. I'm absolutely sure that come autumn and winter, Mon Patchouly will be delegated on the very front of my perfume closet (alongside the more panseasonal marvel Mon Cuir of the RM line which I sport as I write and on which I will write a separate review), its snuggly warmth a comfort for hectic days when its escapist fantasy will consume my commute and daily chores. I just can't fathom how bind-blowing Ramon Monegal's Mon Patchouly will be on a mohair scarf shared between lovers...you'll have to wait for me to divulge in due time!

Bottom line: scrumptious! I'd love to get one of those beautiful inkwell bottles for myself.

Notes for Ramon Monegal Mon Patchouly: Patchouli, olibanum, oakmoss, geranium, jasmine, amber

Available at Luckyscent in eau de parfum concentration.

In the interests of full disclosure, I was sent a sample from the manufacturer.

Lancome La Vie Est Belle: fragrance review

The upcoming Lancome fragrance, La Vie Est Belle (i.e. Life is Beautiful), is exactly the kind of perfume we dedicated perfumephiles love to kvetch about without any grave reason, come to think of it: It won't knock your Spanx off, sure; it's a "pretty" smell for pretty ladies (as evidenced by the face fronted it, the original Pretty Woman) but it's not a genuinely bad release all the same, just derivative. It suffers from the major problem of mainstream perfumery: a sense of sameness, a sort of deja vu, when what we yearn for is earth-shattering uniqueness, Heathcliff boldness and passion, springboards for heated discussion with a slice of brie in one hand and a good goblet of Laphroaig on the other while Mahler's 3rd blasts out of the speakers.
If you're that sort of person you won't be wowed by La Vie Est Belle. If on the other hand you just seek a wearable, non completely teeny-bopper fruity scent to get you through the day (and night) then the newest Lancome release isn't the worst to come out on counters for a while; nor is it the best, worse luck...

To cut a long story short: La Vie Est Belle an iris "gourmand" with patchouli. Just how many irises, gourmands and patchoulis are there on the market currently? Do I hear you say hundreds? I thought so! And yet, this fragrance is pretty well-executed within the genre, if sweet and over-tenacious. It's really a floriental for the 30-50 age group of women who want something contemporary that wouldn't have their teeth fall off at the same time. Lancôme after all has never ditched their more "mature" outlook (Tresor Midnight Rose non withstanding) and the accompanying image the way Dior has, as I was discussing with one of my online friends. In that context, the fragrance succeeds in its intended demographic, all caveat emptors in place.

This gourmand yet rather delicate composition was developed by famous perfumers Olivier Polge, Dominique Ropion and Anne Flipo, all known for their talent and technical skill. The final formula is claimed to be the result achieved after 3 years of testing and 5000 versions including precious ingredients (Iris Pallida concrete, Jasmine sambac absolute, orange blossom absolute, and patchouli essence; we can take this with a grain of salt or not). When you're hearing things like that, you know you have reason to get worried.
Iris is supposedly the key ingredient of the perfume, surrounded by orange blossoms and jasmine in the heart. The iris isn't really perceptible as such to my nose, though, I have to say: that carrot-rooty often metallic note we associate with iris fragrances is very subtle and floats in the background as a murmur rather than a clear command. The composition’s opening provides fruity flavors of black currant and pear, those can be felt, while the base is warm, gourmand and powdery due to almond-like accords of tonka bean (high in coumarin), praline (shades of Angel, especially coupled with the next two ingredients), patchouli and vanilla.

The recognizable reference in La Vie Est Belle comprise a hint of Delices de Cartier (instead of cherry, the fruity nuance is orange-toned but in a clean, fresh and pleasant way) and Flowerbomb's fruity-patchouli sweetness rising from the core. It's somehow airier, like a gourmand done in devore velvet rather than heavy damask. It also vaguely reminds me of Hanae Mori #4. Of course all these facts point to the theory that if you own any of the above, there's not much point in owing La Vie est Belle as well. That's for you and your Visa to decide.

The lasting power and projection of La Vie Est Belle, available as eau de Parfum, are both very very good, a technically able fragrance, and though I wouldn't be too displeased to be in the company of the woman wearing it, I wouldn't buy a full bottle for myself all the same.

La Vie Est Belle is the newest Lancome fragrance, available on the market from autumn 2012 in major department stores. The concept of this fragrance is centered on real beauty in small things, freedom from conventions and the wisdom to go after one's heart.
The (beautiful) flacon is a redesigned version of a Lancome bottle from 1949 from the brand's archives. Actress Julia Roberts is the face of the campaign, shot by director Tarsem Singh.

NB: I shared a sample with a friend who works in the press and got a preview herself. 

Guerlain Rose Nacree du Desert: fragrance review

Arabian perfumery is no stranger to the amorous coupling of rose with oud or saffron. Guerlain is no stranger to opulent florals with woody underpinnings highlighting their thorny beauty (just witness Nahema, a lush fruity rose and Rose Barbare, a chyprish, woody one). Imagining the two directions -Arabian & Guerlain- combined gives you an idea about how Rose Nacrée du Désert smells like. But that is only the beginning...

According to perfumer Thierry Wasser, Rose Nacrée du Désert is a mysterious fragrance one can lose their heart to, thanks to its very formula. "Mystery often comes from intense and deep notes such as patchouli or oakmoss. Chypre perfumes also can reveal a mysterious character because one can perceive notes which are sometimes woody, sometimes ambery or floral. And of course the more a fragrance makes us dream of far away lands, the more it is laden with mystery too!" This is why Wasser reveals he searched for a Persian rose that was difficult to harness and rendered even more cryptic thanks to its alchemical alliance to woody notes, such as oud and patchouli.

Rose and oud are a trend we're going to be seeing a LOT of in the coming season. Already there are quite a few perfumes with the exact combination (the ubiquitousness of oud notwithstanding), such as those below, as well as Midnight Oud (Juliette has a Gun), Rose Oud (Kilian), Rose d'Arabie (Armani), Mirroir des Voluptés (Thierry Mugler) or Portrait of a Lady (F.Malle) and we're going to witness even more.  Fine by me, as this gothic style of rose is simpatico to my sensibilities (I told you I had trouble with liking too prim or Victorian roses, didn't I? This is why the rose-patchouli dewy woodiness of Voleur de Roses is among my favorite rose fragrances.)

from L to R: Oud Ispahan (Dior, 2012), Velvet Rose & Oud (Jo Malone, 2012), Rose Nacrée du Désert (Guerlain, 2012), Al Buraq, by Al Haramain.

Arguably therefore the less "original" in the trio (vaguely reminiscent of Amouage Epic for Women for its treatment of rose and oud) Rose Nacrée du Désert,  Guerlain's take at the Damask rose and oud combination, is at once dusky and velvety, gothic, dusty and with a beautiful sheen like hammered gold. The sweetness is pervading, even more than the previous Déserts d'Orient examples, with nuances of loukhoum rosewater and copra powder enrobing the yummy delicacy.
The mouth-watering gourmand quality is very Guerlain; rose and sugar are eager bedfellows with passionate results. The woodiness of patchouli and oud are brimming with promises of sensuous adventures in a land of buried treasures in the sand; full of mystery, full of languor.

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 is available exclusive in the UAE and the Guerlain flagship store. Also via the connections of Wim in Parfumerie Place Vendome in Brussels.

still from Pretty in Pink by John Hughes starring Molly Ringwald via jbtaylor.typepad.com/
pic of bottles of various brands in middle by parfums-tendances-inspirations.com