Dior Dolce Vita: fragrance review of a perfumery classic

Photo by Bianca Czarnock on behance, borrowed for educational purposes

 

Dior's Dolce Vita fetes its 30th anniversary this year, being launched in 1994, when Dior was very careful with its new launches and the firm was creating mega-hits that shattered antagonism in one fell swoop. The promise of happiness, exuberance and confidence in Dolce Vita, in its flamboyant and optimistic package, looked smashing. A drop of sunshine, dropped magically in your lap, for special moments and for making it your own.

The scent of Dolce Vita by Dior indeed smells as voluptuous and sensuous as Anita Ekberg looks in the classic Fellini film La Dolce Vita. It was under the direction of legendary director Maurice Roger that Dolce Vita came to be, composed by Pierre Bourdon.

Under Roger's direction Dior's iconic perfume, Poison, was born in 1984, launched with much aplomb, as well as Fahrenheit in 1988 and later in 1994 the subject of our story, Dolce Vita. The fuzzy peach fruitiness in Dolce Vita is part of its succes. The effect, possible since at least Mitsouko by Guerlain in 1917, is mainly accountable to γ-undecalactone and despite many other molecular options today, it is still used by perfumers. The scent thus becomes wondrously sensual, with a fuzzy feel akin to caressing the skin of a peach or a smooth epidermis still with vellus hair, all tactile contours. Just beautiful. With the addition of baked goods cinnamon, the pleasantry in the fragrance is exponentially increased. The inclusion of palissander, commonly known as rosewood, is what ties the comfortable woody backdrop with the gourmand impression of the more delectable notes and makes for a soft, pliable, squishy feminine woody. 

Happiness in Dolce Vita lies in sweet accords that immediately seize you by the taste buds: warm cinnamon, spicy cardamom adding a middle-eastern touch, and the juicy lushness of soft apricots and lush peaches. An accent of juicy citrus puts a welcome dash of sharpness so as not to lose the bones amidst the plush. The magnolia, key within the floral bouquet, puts a spin on the citrusy fruitiness and almost lends air to the molecules. It feels expansive and melodious in the air at this stage. Finally the composition renders woody and soft notes: as the scent of Dolce Vita dries down the notes of palissander with heliotrope and vanilla beckon you even closer. It's a come hither of a scent, yet exuberant and confident too. 

I have dedicated an anniversary article to Dolce Vita on Fragrantica, if you care to read in its entirety.

Roja Dove Diaghilev: fragrance review

 Much of our information on the particularities of Sergey Diaghilev the man come from the many exhibitions and press catalogues which have been relying on the lasting aftermath of Les Ballet Russes in Europe. Apparently the story of the Diaghilev by Roja Dove fragrance is more complex. 

The fragrance began as an Eau de Parfum concentration as attested by the older advertising images for the Victoria & Albert museum exhibitions and lectures. It then moved to the uniform "whiskey carafe" style of extrait de parfum bottles in a more concentrated form. It is indeed the Eau de Parfum which I had first tried years ago and proclaimed it inwardly "a Mitsouko analogue." (referencing the famous Guerlain perfume from 1919)

glamourdaze

The reference is not lost upon those who know a thing or two about the man through the bibliography on his life and opus. Serge Diaghilev was enamoured with Guerlain's Mitsouko during the height of his career with Les Ballets Russes and used to drench his curtains with it. Drenching the curtains in perfume....sounds so decadent and eccentric, right? The impression must have been something of an autumnal twilight, just as the Guerlain scent segues into the forest floor after immersing you in a liqueur like the fuzzy skin of golden nectarous peaches ripened in the sun... Charlie Chaplin was also a fan. There's something about it that makes creative juices flow.

 joelm

In a way, both Mitsouko by Guerlain and Diaghilev by Roja Dove bring a sense of awakening to the senses upon smelling them. They're both lush, fruity chypre perfumes, and they're both like a beauty coming back from a long-forgotten slumber, like the princess sleeping in the Sleeping Beauty ballet that Les Ballets Russes performed.

 internationalposters

The transition from the citrusy top note is as smooth in Diaghilev as in the Guerlain, with the linalyl acetate of bergamot smoothing the pathway to the core of the chypre skeleton, and piquant notes of spices and herbs (cloves, peppery jolt, tarragon) give a lively burst alongside the plush. The spicy component is a counterpart to the fruity and floral aspects. It's never a flat scent; it's always bronze-y and lush.

 harrods

The modern re-issue took the structure of the Eau de Parfum and gave it in Extrait de Parfum an immensity of duration that far surpasses the 24-hour mark on skin. The old bases like Persicol have tremendous tenacity and the synthetic civet feels like it opens up the best elements, attaching itself to the fruity and floral aspects and making them extend into infinity.

Frederic Malle Le Parfum de Therese: fragrance review

It's tough to do a good melon note, if only because in hindsight the overuse of Calone in the 1990s has tampered with our own perception of the natural object. Melon of course cannot be distilled, being mostly water in itself, so an approximation is in order. Some perfumers excel where others fail. For me, the definitive addition of melon which swerves the whole composition into something amazing comes in the top chord of Frederic Malle Le Parfum de Therese.

via

The legendary perfumer Edmond Roudnitska is the mastermind behind this fragrance which shares many facets with his masterful vintage Diorella. Roudnitska always brought space in his fragrant compositions, a very legible melody that sang and sang in Mozartian clarity. In other famous fragrances of his the fruit serves as the opening salve to the inkier and more serious aspects of the formula, such as the plums and hesperides in Rochas Femme and Eau Fraiche for Dior. But in Le Parfum de Therese it is the predominant melon, with its succulent, and at the same time not too sweet tinge which rounds out the violet heart, seguing to the plushness of beloved plum and leathery notes. Although Roudnitska is of Russian extraction, his composition displays a very French flair at looking on femininity; it's a little bit sweet, but also fresh, and it's a little bit dirty, but also quite polished.

In conclusion Le Parfum de Therese is both retro and decidedly modern and stands as the perfect timeless scent for those who want to possess a tiny bit of a legend; after all Roudnitska composed it with great care for his own beloved wife. Aren't we lucky that Frederic Malle salvaged the formula and offered it to us.

Aftelier Perfume Palimpsest: fragrance review

I recall a particularly tough professor back in my University days demanded such hard-to-crack questions that one way to bypass embarrassment and speech impediments during the ordeal of the oral examination was to begin by defining what a thing wasn't supposed to be, the latter part of the definition implied to be known to both partners in the discussion at least.  Example: "Kintsugi has absolutely no relation to ikebana."  [ed.note all right, all right, apart from both being Japanese concepts, I mean].  This kind of "definition by negation" is sometimes useful to the fragrance writer because perfume descriptions are so very hard to do justice to in the first place. Palimpsest is one such case, not only because it has an indefinable quality of pure exquisiteness, but also because it is perfumer Mandy Aftel's very best.

Zil Hoque; Oil, 2009, "Palimpsest I"  via (recalling the horse in Salvador Dali's Tempation of St.Anthony) 

I can begin by saying that Aftelier Palimpsest is nothing like you'd expect an all naturals perfume to smell like; although I'm fond of the raw energy of some all naturals, there is a certain medicinal or vegetal quality that sometimes comes a bit too forcefully at first, which is probably the reason there is so much hesitation among perfume enthusiasts regarding this branch of perfumery art. One of the reasons for avoiding that might be that Mandy is using natural isolates for the first time in such a context, such as gamma dodecalactone (peachy, apricot-y) and phenylacetic acid (a honeyed note). They play out beautifully.
Another thing that I could negate is the official definition of a "fruity floral". Yes, the ripe peachiness is not unknown among fruity floral perfumes, but it's as far removed from the typical Barbie wannabe on the Sephora counter as could possibly be. With a name like Palimpsest I suppose one would expect it to deviate far and wide!

Palimpsest is a word I first came by when I was 15 and reading The Name of the Rose, the famous novel by Umberto Eco, "a palimpsest" as the author  introduced it. The cunning of the narrative technique relied on making the narrator retell a story that is based on an even earlier narration, lifted from an older manuscript and with extensive quotations from other books often in their turn referencing even older books. As Eco maintains throughout his opus in an intertextual turn of mind "books talk about other books" which is true enough in my, lesser than his, experience. All the tales are being woven into a "palimpsest", the old parchment scroll that bears writing over former writing that had been carefully scratched off to make room for new but is still vaguely visible beneath. In a similar manner perfumes talk about other perfumes and intertextuality in scent is a wonderful dialogue that I had occupied myself with breaking down a bit in the past.

via

Aftelier Palimpsest is one such perfume, taking inspirations from several points of departure and offering something new and coherent, recapitulating the history of perfumery, a given since it sprang from the research Aftel did for her book "Fragrant" out this October (you can order it on discount on this link), but being contemporary all the same! Midnight in the Garden of Eden; honeyed streams of lush florals (jasmine grandiflorum) with a sensuous and mysterious Lilith undercurrent of what I perceive as ambergris (a refined animalic perfume note), speak of a layered tapestry where one is hard pressed to see where one golden thread ends and another, in a slightly different hue, begins.

As Gaia, The Non Blonde, notes in her excellent review on the origins of the inspiration for Palimpsest:

"The gum of the Australian firetree (also known as Christmas tree), or by its official name, Nuytsia floribunda, is sweet and eaten raw by the ingenious people of Western Australia. It's not a common ingredient in perfumery (the only other one I know of was the limited edition Fire Tree by Australian brand Nomad Two Worlds, and I had a hard time warming up to its rawness). I never smelled the firetree as a raw ingredient, so it's hard for me to tell how much of what I smell in Palimpsest comes from it and what is pure imagination. But fantasy is a big part of the perfume joy, isn't it?"

My palette of raw materials, though rather extensive, is similarly limited in regards to this particular essence, so any opinion I might proffer on the adherence to the natural facets of the material would be illusory and misleading. Mandy herself mentions that firetree has rose and lilac facets with a milky undertone that the longer it develops the more it reveals smoky, oud-like, leathery tones. Talk about a multi-tasker! "It possesses an unearthly beauty which, ironically, arises from the soil", says fragrance connoisseur and fairy godmother to indies Ida Meister.
What I can say with certainty myself is that the golden incandescence of Aftelier Palimpsest has to be experienced first hand and quickly at that.

Aftelier Palimpsest comes as an eau de parfum (full bottle costs $170) and an extrait de parfum (same price). Samples of either retail at $6, while a mini of the pure parfum will set you back $50 on aftelier.com.

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

Boss Nuit pour Femme: fragrance review

I sometimes ask myself what does it say about a particular fragrance if I'm not even temped to seek out a sample of it, but eventually get to try it because one ends up on my lap anyway. Usually it's time-honed experience suggesting the jus looks unexciting; and most of the time it ends up getting me bored to the point of having my eyes glaze. The Boss range of fragrances (with the possible exception of Deep Red) continues to induce yawns from me despite my appreciation of the razor-cut "sharp" pants, the impeccable trim-fit men's suits in endless variations of grey, the double strap monk shoes or  the office-and-cocktails appropriate suiting dresses of the fashion brand. Boss Nuit pour Femme is no different, an innocuous peachy floral (with a hint of fruitchouli) and the standard ersatz blanched (rather than "white") florals in the heart to give an impression of "clean" elegance, in the spitting image of its ambassadress, Gwyneth Paltrow and her "clean obsessive compulsive living".

The blonde celebrity has been said to prefer it among her rather large perfume collection (of whom we became savvy through her interviews), but doesn't the point get diluted by her being sponsored to promote it? Besides, unless you're a lady who lunches, is Gwynnie the yardstick against which you measure the va-va-voom allure and intelligence your chosen perfume should radiate? I didn't think so.
Boss championed the concept of "the little black dress" for the release (surely an American stereotype of "dressy & elegant" by now) reminiscing me of Avon's Little Black Dress fragrance release (which is perhaps superior in comparison), but the ambassadress is better envisioned in crisp whites, the way Estee Lauder had brilliantly cast her aboard a sailing boat for their fabulous Pure white Linen perfume.

Boss Nuit pour Femme has mediocre sillage and rather poor lasting power and these two characteristics can be the kiss of oblivion when applied to a "safe" composition, rendering the whole as exciting as watching paint dry or having the telephone catalogue read to you to sleep. Clearly these are formulae not in risk of athazagoraphobia, i.e. the fear of getting forgotten.
The jasmine note doesn't come through in Boss Nuit pour Femme, leaving the task to the lactone of the peach and the moss (Evernyl?)/synth wood components to carry the torch. The "aldehydes" mentioned in the official notes are played down to only hint at scrubbed soapy lather rather than the intensity of brightness of classic aldehydics fragrances like Chanel's No.5 or Lanvin's Arpege. Although advertised as an evening fragrance, as suggested by the name as well, this is the perfect wallpaper scent for casual mornings/afternoons. Boss Nuit pour Femme is not totally bad in itself, just utterly blah; a drop of water on the window pane on a day of heavy rain. But judging by the continuous presence of Bright Crystal (Versace), Chanel Chance Eau Tendre, Gucci Premiere et al on the market, this "peachy shampoo genre" is here to stay…

Although I didn't have high expectations from Boss (the let down of Guerlain's thin and wan Limon Verde from last summer's Aqua Allegoria launch is colossal compared to this), it's disheartening to see that playing outside one's safe zone is strictly verboten in mainstream.

Parfums M.Micallef Rouge #1: fragrance review

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

via Pinterest

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

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

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

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


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

Les Parfums de Rosine Vive La Mariee: fragrance review & samples draw

Les Parfums de Rosine isn't removed from the romantic notion of fragrance as a pleasure, a smile, a memento to accompany the most beautiful moments of one's life. So there was nice building up for their wedding fragrance, the newly launched Vive la Mariée (long live the bride), without resorting to histrionics; the launch was discreet and the promises complied to the image we have of Les Parfums de Rosine.
In the immortal words of the Fiona character in Four Weddings and a Funeral to describe the love interest of the main protagonist, bride-to-be, Carrie (turns out, "to be and to divorce" and then "to love and not to be"): "Used to work at Vogue. Lives in America now. Only gets out with very glamorous people. Quite out of your league."
There is just something traditionally chic, even expected, about Les Parfums de Rosine and Vive la Mariée is no exception.

wedding dress by Christian Dior 1948 via hprints.com

Vive la Mariée smells translatable as feminine right away, the equivalent of tender décolletage heaving with the emotion of the moment, conforming to the notion of a woman on the happiest day of her life. It's rather easy to accept this warm, peachy-rosy vibe which recalls the best-selling accord popularized by Lancome's Trésor in the 1990s. Marie-Hélène Rogeon, head of Les Parfums de Rosine, who put rose in the heart of the line as the surest sign of femininity and grace, envisioned a soft, gently powdery, clean yet quite musky, heaving fragrance that would lend itself to the day but also to the days to follow. Whether you're going to like this balanced fruity floral fragrance (graciously done with one lump of sugar, not two) depends on your associations with this hugging (and huggable) "accord" that takes with it a hint of retro cosmetics' violet nuance.

Perfumer Benoit Lapouza (best known for his Fan di Fendi editions and Si Lolita for Lempicka, but artistically vindicated on ICONofly's art project Attache-Moi) folded fruity notes (of which they mention lychee and peach) into the clean brilliance of orange blossom and the detectable floral note of rose, garlanded by accent notes that act the way a beautiful flower arrangement compliments the blush on a woman's cheek. It's young, but not too young, if you know what I mean. The character of the scent is lightly sweet, even if a gourmand scent fantasy of praline, choux pastries and whipped cream is evoked in the press material; and that's a good thing (contrary to -say- Repetto Eau de Toilette with its misleading ad copy)

If past collaborations are any indication, Rogeon had previously entrusted Lapouza with Glam Rose in 2011. The parallels with this new fragrance aren't as far fetched as imagined, the two sharing a generosity of past glamor and emotional directness. The eau de parfum concentration is quite tenacious, providing a rich experience, but without risk of suffocating those who will come in the perimeter of a kiss.

For our readers, two samples of the new pefume will be given away. Draw is open internationally till Thursday midnight. Please leave a comment to enter the draw.

Nina Ricci L'Air du Temps: Fragrance Review & History of a True Classic

Reflecting on a classic fragrance which has inspired me into delving deeper into perfume history and appreciation, I can’t disregard L’Air du Temps by Nina Ricci, one of the most recognizable perfumes in the world. Even Hannibal Lecter is quoted smelling it on Clarisse Starling in Silence of the Lambs: “You use Evian skin products and sometimes L’Air du Temps… but not today...”.
Despite any foreboding connotations, the perfume's introduction in 1948 under a name halfway between Marivaux and Cocteau (denoting ‘the spirit of the times’) hallmarked a longed-for return to optimism. Much like Miss Dior was ‘tired of letting off bombs and just wanted to let off fireworks’, L’Air du Temps presented the new found hope for peace after the ravages of WWII, as reflected by the original flacon design of a sun with a dove perched on the stopper by Christian Bérard.

 Iconic Design and Symbolism


L'Air du Temps is a triumph of bottle art and symbolism: The intertwining doves affectionately termed ‘Les Colombes’, a romantic theme by Marc Lalique, originates from 1951 and came to denote the virginal quality of the visual aspects of its representation, perpetuated in its advertising ever since. Originally the 1948 design envisioned by Jean Rebull and materialized by crystallier Marc Lalique involved a rising sun surmounted by a single dove. The interwining doves however marked the "kiss and make up" peace mood after WWII.
The "colombes" kissing motif also reflected the ever feminine, always understated and ethereallly romantic Nina Ricci sartorial fashions; nothing vulgar! The perfume became signage for fashions: "The most romantic gift of fragrance a man can give a woman" came to be accompanied by elfish gowns that draped the female form in a slippery, ethereal, 19th-century-aesthete nostalgic way; lacy ivory and white denoting youthful and -a little faded- aristocracy rusticating in the sunny French countryside.The L'Air du temps advertising mostly matched.
In 1999 the L'Air du Temps flacon was named "perfume bottle of the century".

Scent Description
The formula of L'Air du Temps, composed by Francis Fabron, was simple : no more than 30 ingredients which co-exist in harmony, a chaste -but not quite- bouquet of flowers enrobed into the silken sheath of benzyl salicylate; a massive dose of an –at the time- innovative product aiding the blending and linear evaporation of the other molecules. According to perfumer Bernard Chant “‘[benzyl salicylate] produces a diffusing, blooming effect very pleasing to the public”. Coupled with spicy eugenol and isoeugenol, the effect becomes almost carnation-like with its clove tint : the very heart of L’Air du Temps ! The celestial opening of bergamot and rosewood is undermined by the sensuous note, half-lily, half-carnation, suave with the fuzziness of skin-like peach and a green hint of gardenia. Powdery orris, coupled with dusky woods –poised at the intersection of winter falling into spring- and a faint amber note finish off the fragrance. The effect is peachy-carnation-y and very characteristic: a sort of Doris Day, the way she was, rather staunchy actually, active and hard to eradicate, rather than how she appeared to be in those rom-coms of the 1950s, all mock innocence and eyelashes aflutter.

The success of the classic Nina Ricci fragrance seems to be the sassiness of its aerated, distinctive bouquet coupled with its refined classicism, sometimes maxed out to sentimentality : an aspect which prompted critic Luca Turin to joke it was created for romantics “who shed a tear listening to La Sonate au Clair de Lune*”. Maybe not quite that way, considering how the latter might have been an impromptu requiem on someone’s deathbed. At any rate, the trickle-down effect must speak of the need to do just that: the skeleton of the formula has been imitated in various soaps, deodorants and hairsprays for decades, while in itself L’Air du Temps has influenced many other fragrances from Fidji (Guy Laroche) and Madame Rochas to Anaïs Anaïs (Cacharel).

 Comparing Vintage vs. Modern L'Air du Temps Perfume

Nowadays the suaveness of the original formula has been somewhat compromised, due to necessary surgery dictated by allergens concerns… The peach base is mollified into synthetic submission, the carnation is less spicy and rich than before, the whole excellent exercise seems less itself as if it has been Botoxed into a perpetual complacent smile....yet L’Air du Temps is still instantly recognizable in its sillage, the trail left by the many that pass by wearing it : the mark of a true classic !
The bottle design can be a gauge of age: Vintage Eau de Toilette from the 1970s and 1980s circulates in the amphora-like bottle with the gold cap in splash, while spray bottles are long and encased in white bakelite. If the front of the bottle has the doves in relief and the plastic cap is rounded and in relief as well, your specimen comes from the 1990s.

The vintage parfum is in the characteristic Lalique design with the perched doves atop. Old models of diluted concentration can also be in ribbed sprayers with gold overimposed sprayer mechanisms in squarish design. Really old versions can be in a round flask bottle with a boule cap in splash form.
Modern  eau de toilette on the contrary is in the familiar fluted oval-shaped bottle, reprising the dove design on the top in transparent plastic, the cap going over the sprayer mechanism. 

(*) Piano sonata N°14 by L.van Beethoven

This review is based on a text I had previously composed for Osmoz.com

Missoni Aria: fragrance review

Composed in 1987, Aria by Missoni is predictably as big as a house. In the 1980s, you see, fragrances announced themselves from around the block like a fat man with a protruding belly and you could smell them down the office corridor too long after the cleaning ladies had picked up after the staff (Missoni themselves had the now discontinued ~and replaced by a completely different animal by the same name~ Missoni by Missoni from 1982). For a fruity floral, the olfactory category equivalent of the shy type at the party who wants to blend in, yet appear a bit flirty like all the other girls, Aria is an unlikely candidate, a masquerade of a bold floral which dons a silly pineapple hair clip in case anyone takes her too seriously.

By no means dissonant, Aria is an euphoric big burst of a bubblegum actually, so suffused with flavourful florals and flowery fruits that it's easy to lose track and imagine things that are not there. The image of a giant, juicy fuschia bubblegum derives from the pink jasmine used, plus ylang ylang, which is buttressed by banana-pineaplle and peachy-lactonic notes. One edge is sweet, the other edge is rather tangy and the combined effect is melodious and expansive; the best of both worlds, really.

Aria never really caught many ears or noses at its time, probably because the brand wasn't particularly in your face and kept an elegant but vivacious Italian tricot profile, i.e. it never caught on the American market. Or it might have to do with the ugly bottle, a plain glass phial toped by a sincerely plastic purple cap that could adorn Debbie Gibson's Electric Youth or something. It just didn't feel like luxury, from the looks of it. Today, Aria by Missoni is discontinued, like much else from that time-frame: now that fruity florals are a dime a dozen it sounds like it's a shameful loss of especially good, happy jingles.
You can find old stock at stockists/online discounters or auction sites. There's even some at Amazon right now.

Notes for Missoni Aria:
Top notes: lemon, bergamot, pineapple, banana, raspberry, peach
Heart notes: carnation, tuberose, jasmine, ylang-ylang, lily-of-the-valley, rose
Base notes: sandalwood, tonka bean, amber, musk, vanilla and cedar.

Annick Goutal Le Mimosa: fragrance review

For a lover of mimosa, spoiled on the honeyed powdery facets of Caron's Farnesiana or the cassie-rich musky-animalic meowing of Une Fleur de Cassie (F.Malle), Goutal's take on the yellow pom-pom flowers seems anaemic and watery; too innocent, too puerile, too fleeting... In fact, if you're looking for a "true" mimosa (like the one by L'Artisan Parfumeur Mimosa pour Moi with its violet and milky undercurrent) you will be crestfallen.

The mimosa blossom is a sign of spring hope, nature's awakenings, blooming as it does all bright yellow and proud in the end of winter and decorating the countryside with its shady branches that are carrying hundreds of yellow fluffy little bundles of joy; childlike, optimistic, bursting with energy and sweet smiles. Composed of the absolute of mimosa, a hint of iris, peach and white musks, the Goutal take on this floral scent evokes a delicate and subtle sweetness. (See also Calèche Fleurs de Méditerranée by Hermès for a fine rendition)

The impression of Annick Goutal's Le Mimosa is nevertheless much more of a soft, fuzzy peachy note that overimposes itself over a Johnson's chamomille shampoo and clean orange blossom accord, the latter dominating the heart of the composition. Curiously enough, the (natural) mimosa absolute raw material is there (indeed it shares facets with the above, plus anisic nuances), so this is definitely an aesthetic choice; probably in line with the intended coherence inside the Goutal soliflores line. Perfumer Isabelle Doyen and Camille Goutal (Annick's daughter in charge of the house now) envisioned a soliflore that is ethereal, much like the other soliflores in their line-up (Des Lys, Le Jasmin, Le Cheuvrefeuille etc.). Eau de Charlotte already a good dosage of mimosa as well. They were also thinking of the audience who buy Petite Chérie and Quel Amour by the bucketload, apparently. Clearly I am not among them, preferring the intensity of Passion or Grand Amour, yet I can understand the need to play around a material which is almost emblematic of France and Grasse [Follow my route along the mimosa road on this link]. Le Mimosa is not entirely without merit.

Annick Goutal Le Mimosa is available at Annick Goutal stockists from February 2011 onwards. It was announced as a limited edition. The bottle takes on a polka-dot ribbon in yellow and black for the occasion.

Notes for Annick Goutal Le Mimosa:
bergamot, anise, mimosa absolute, iris, peach, white musk, sandalwood

Painting by Greek painter Knostantinos Parthenis, The Apotheosis of Athanassios Diakos, c.1933

K de Krizia: fragrance review

K de Krizia by Italian designer Krizia is a fragrance like they don't build them anymore: a very classy aldehydic floral fragrance with chypre-green tonalities, composed by revered perfumer Maurice Roucel. Launched in 1980, it has suffered the memory loss that plagues all less-known fragrances: It's largely unsung and few hard-core fans search high and low for it now that it's difficult to come across.

Despite its timeless, graceful and rather sensual arc, I cannot stress enough that in order to savour the complexities and powerful elegance that K de Krizia can offer you, you must like aldehydes in general and, on top of that, old-school compositions featuring them in particular. An unashamed cool customer, it wouldn't feel out of place with a well-cut suit and leather cinched waist. The Louise Brooks bob is optional.

K de Krizia opens with the brisk and razor sharp intensity of those white-light molecules called aldehydes. Mention aldehydes and everyone in a Pavlovian-like motif thinks of Chanel No.5. Certainly the feeling of aldehydic florals has been inextricably tied to memories and whiffs of No.5 for most people. But whereas the style is similar, the treatment is different enough: The peachiness and rosiness of K de Krizia, alongside the greener elements, differs considerably from the jasmine-richness and intense muskiness of Chanel No.5, the former being rather closer to Van Cleef & Arpels First or Balmain's Ivoire or even the chypre greeness aspect of Paloma Picasso than the iconic monstre.
If the opening of K de Krizia is primarily aldehydic, the florals emerge a little later to complicate things with honeyed pollen: rose, carnation, lily of the valley, and not so sweet jasmine (hedione) in an abstract harmony where no note predominates, gaining in deep mossiness as the fragrance dries down. The final stages are almost spicy from the leather, styrax and vetiver notes, and delectably powdery-soapy like only a woman who has used face powder with a fluffy retro pom-pom knows.

Between the different concentrations, the Eau de Parfum is more mellow and floral, while the Eau de Toilette exhibits drier facets and would be perfect on a man as well.
Sadly, K de Krizia has been reformulated for the worse: its rich oakmoss inclusion along with the flowers being rampant necessitated a close shave that cost it its richness, inherent femininity and natural feel of its floral essences.

Notes for K de Krizia:
Top: aldehydes, bergamot, peach, hyacinth, neroli
Middle: carnation, orange blossom, orchid, orris root, jasmine, lily-of-the-valley, rose and narcissus
Base: leather, sandalwood, amber, musk, civet, oakmoss, vanilla, vetiver and styrax.

Krizia pic via facebook

Guerlain Mitsouko: fragrance review & history

Few perfumes are entangled in such mythos and in such erroneous rumours as Mitsouko by Guerlain. Mysterious, balanced, sumptuous, it's nothing short of a Gordian Knot which demands a swift cutting through its mysteries to arrive at the truth. And truth is not easily provided for this 1919 fragrance which closed the era of WWI and opened up Les Années Folles.

Famous patrons & their fateful stories on Mitsouko
Jean Harlow, the platinum blonde sex-pot of the 1930s who was born on March 3rd 1911, all slinky peignoirs and ice put on the nipples behind those satiny gowns, used Mitsouko in Dinner at Eight; it was her favourite fragrance in real life. Her platinum head was not what the creators at Guerlain had originally thought of: Mitsouko was right from the start destined for brunettes, while L'Heure Bleue was recommended for blondes. She gladly embraced both, much like she let her hairdresser put peroxide, ammonia, Clorox, and Lux Flakes on her naturally darker hair.
Little did Jean know that her first husband Paul Bern would be found dead and drenched in Mitsouko in a astounding case of a suicide just one week after the wedding. Rumours say that it was impotence that drove him to his act of desperation. Jean was put to record saying all three marriages she got into were "marriages of inconvenience". Perhaps the sad story inspiring Mitsouko perfume was a bad omen for her love life as well.

It certainly didn't really bring good luck to other famous patrons, such as the impressario of Les Ballets Russes, Sergei Diaghilev (who drenched his curtains with it) or Charlie Chaplin. In the unexpurgated diary of erotic authoress Anais Nin, Henry and June, Mitsouko features prominently as the perfume that June Miller asks to be given her by Anais. Of course, to follow the truism by Gore Vidal [1], lying had become Nin's first nature, so all bets are off on whether that actually happened: What remains is that Mitsouko was indeed Nin's scent of choice, alongside Narcisse Noir by Caron. Such is the repercussion of the scent in cultural heritage that a pop sensation of the late 1980s, the French duo of Les Rita Mitsouko christened themselves after it!

photo via toutenparfum

The Legend of the Creation: Myth and Misunderstandings


Lore on the inspiration of Mitsouko wants Jacques Guerlain to have wanted to pay homage to a popular novel of the time, “La Bataille” by Claude Farrère. In it Mitsouko, a beautiful Japanese woman and the wife of Admiral Togo, is secretly in love with a British officer aboard the flagship of the Japanese fleet during the 1905 war between Russia and Japan; Mitsouko awaits with dignity the outcome of the battle, nobly overcoming her feelings. Hence derives the confusion about the spelling of the name: although Mitsuko [sic] is a Japanese word, neither is it spelled Mitsouko nor does it mean "mystery" as the official press of Guerlain would like us to believe. Like other perfume tales, it's just that: a romantic allusion to "zee love storee" that enslaves women's imagination and stirs men's loins.

It's a fascinating discovery to find that Mitsouko despite its technical mastery and sumptuous character, and my friend's wittism when sniffing off a vintage bottle that "it smells the way a porn film would", isn't one for seduction: Luca Turin in his 1993 French guide recommended against such a use. It's debatable whether he did so because he found it not immediately accesible for such a purpose or because he deemed it highly intellectualised to demean it via lowly feminine wiles. The fact remains that although highly revered, Mitsouko is one fragrance which the Western man rarely considers as traditionally "sexy" among a stable of fruity chypres that manage to convey the idea of sexiness and erotic proximity much more readily: Rochas Femme, Diorama, even YSL Yvresse... Fruity chypres due to their typically lusher, more "golden" character with an injection of decay (fruit can easily go from ripe to overripe, recalling how a woman can do so as well) are a noted exception within that group of cerebral fragrances known as "chypres". Mitsouko could be the equivalent of someone reading the Financial Times in terms of smarts and composure. Perhaps this is why its erotic tension is not immediately understandable.

Cinematic References
In Louis Bunuel's cult classic Belle de Jour respectable newly-wed doctor's wife, but frigid and masochistic, Catherine Deneuve accidentaly smashes a huge "flacon montre" of Mitsouko in a symbolic scene in her bathroom before setting to spend the afternoon as a prostitute. Would the scene work equally well semiotically with another perfume? Doubtful...

Perfume writer Susan Irvine recounts how one day in Paris she shared a taxi with a woman [wearing Mitsouko] who smelled "the way God intended women to smell: plush, troubling and golden" [2]. And goes on to reveal in a Vogue article that adopting Mitsouko for a year produced no comments whatsoever from anyone, contrary to her compliments galore success with YSL Paris!

Understanding the erotic dimension of Mitsouko

Perhaps what's most interesting about the strange position of Mitsouko in its erotic charge is how it encapsulates two quite different perspectives on how human bodies should or would smell of. The 19th-century Japanese referred to western traders as "batakusai", which roughly translates as "stinks of butter" due to their high dairy consumption which gave their skin a cheesy aspect (isovaleric and butyric compounds do that); while the Brits found the Japanese in turn "fishy", again a reflection on an insular diet. How would the British officer and the beautiful Japanese wife named Mitsouko would have found a middle-ground between their human scents of passion?

Nowadays, Mitsouko is Guerlain's top seller in Japan, in a reverse homage to the brand that ushered Japonism in the mainstream many decades ago. This goes against all received wisdom that the Japanese go for "light" perfume and only rarely ever put it on themselves. One wonders if the cultural milieu of accepting smells that are different than those perceived as pleasurable in the West allows them a higher appreciation of this masterpiece of a scent.

Deconstructing the scent & formula of Mitsouko

The composition of Mitsouko was revolutionary at the time, even though it updated and -arguably- improved on the seminal formula of F.Coty's Chypre: The innovative peach-skin note perceived at the heart of the Guerlain fragrance derives from a modern synthetic ingredient, aldehyde C14 or gamma undecalactone (Peach essence cannot be naturally extracted). The inclusion of the famous base Persicol ("bases" are ready made smell-chords for perfumers) which included it contributes to the peachy, warm effect. Flanked by murky oakmoss and refreshing bergamot at each end ~thus composing a classic chypre chord~, it adds spicy accents reminiscent of cinnamon and cloves ~especially felt in the Eau de Toilette version which circulated till recently.  

Mitsouko also utilizes rose, neroli (a light-smelling orange blossom distillation product), woods, vetiver and patchouli for a short but succinct formula which balances itself between apothecary and pattiserie. The candied orange peel effect mollifies every herbal aspect, while the flowers are so subdued and well-blended as not to be discernible as such; if abstraction is elegance, then Mitsouko is very elegant indeed, without nevertheless losing its sensuality; there's a furry little animal hiding underneath it all, although you can't really place it!

The mysterious, haughty fragrance is in chasm with every recent pop trend, making a difficult love-affair much like its storyline; nevertheless indulging in a bottle of Mitsouko is the hallmark of the true connoisseur, like a fine Pinot Noir wine can be an acquired taste. If you try and do not like it in the end, there is no reason to beat yourself up for it, just because we proclaim it such a beautiful and smart fragrance; but be sure to give it a chance in different times, different weather (it expresses itself wonderfully on rainy days, which bring to the fore its earthy core) and different moods. After all, as The Bombshell Manual of Style declares: “Mitsouko has more sensuous layers to unpeel than Rita Hayworth dancing the Dance of the Seven Veils as Salome."

Comparing Mitsouko concentrations & vintages

Different concentrations and different vintages produce different effects. Vintage parfum extrait is so rich and luscious as to render experiencing Mitsouko a rare occasion of olfactory satiation. The oakmoss galore of as recent crops as Eau de Toilette and Parfum de Toilette from the 1980s and early 1990s is exquisite in its unsettling, deeply mossy ambience. The modern Eau de Parfum version reworked by Edward Flechier (this happened in early 2007 due to oakmoss restrictions imposed by European Union legislature, with Eau de Toilette being the first to reformulate) is the best rendition closer to the original idea, while the current Eau de Toilette seems thinned and yielding a bread, yeasty note which I personally feel is incongruent with the image which I have in my head of it.

Bottle Designs

The classic bottle design, called “inverted heart” because of its cap, reprises the design of another Guerlain classic L’Heure Bleue which was issued in 1912, due to the shortages of World War I [3]. It's the golden standard on which both Eau de Toilette and Eau de Parfum still circulate to this day. After the success of Mitsouko, the design stayed, as a gentle stylistic reminder of the two bottles opening and closing the period between the beginning and the end of the war. And indeed if L’Heure Bleue is contemplative daydreaming and above all romantic like La Belle Epoque, Mitsouko is mysterious and emancipated heralding the era of flappers like no other perfume.

Other presentations include the flacons quatrilobe, amphora/rosebud and umbrella bottle (for the extrait de parfum) and the montres (cyclical bottles with a gold pyramidal cap) for the very lasting and robust vintage eau de cologne concentration circulating throughout the 50s, 60s and 70s with the mint green, round label.
A limited edition flanker called Mitsouko Fleur de Lotus circulated a couple of seasons ago (you can read our review on it on the link).

Notes for Guerlain Mitsouko:
Top: Bergamot, Lemon, Mandarin, Neroli
Middle: Peach, Rose, Clove, Ylang-Ylang, Cinnamon
Base: Oakmoss, Labdanum, Patchouli, Benzoin, Vetiver.

Related reading on Perfume Shrine: Guerlain reviews, The Chypre Series

[1] In Palimpsest, a Memoir
[2] Irvine, S. The Perfume Guide, 2000 Haldane Mason
[3] Guerlain archives
pics via felixhollywood blog and parfum de pub

Guerlain Aqua Allegoria Bouquet No.1: fragrance review & giveaway

What do you get when you cross-polinate a popular feminine theme from the early 90s with the desire to break away from the simplistic fruitiness of the latest Aqua Allegoria fragrances? You get Guerlain's Bouquet Numéro 1!

Guerlain Aqua Allegoria Bouquet Numéro 1 was created by Thierry Wasser comprising notes of bergamot, freshly cut green grass, white flowers, delicate fruity notes, peach and jasmine. The fragrance arrives in a newly designed flacon with golden honeycomb, a bulby stopper with seperate cap (former Aqua Allegoria scents had no cap on the incoroporated bulbous sprayer) and a golden label, packed in an outer carton decorated with a pink bee, as you can see from the photographs I took of Bouquet No.1. [click to enlarge]. It really does look luxurious and pretty, doesn't it? Even though I personally preferred the more impressionistic outer cartons of yore.

According to the official blurb pains were taken to link it to the linage of the company: The name itself reflects Guerlain’s fragrance heritage, as it references the compositions of Pierre-François-Pascal Guerlain, founder of Guerlain, and his heir Jacques, namely: Bouquet du Roi d’Angleterre, Bouquet du Jardin du Roi, Bouquet de l’Impératrice, Bouquet Napoléon, Bouquet Duchesse, Bouquet de Paris and Bouquet de Faune. Personally I am not so sure the interweaving of quite so much history in what is definitely a modern juice is really helping either group of potential buyers: hard-core traditionalists or hip modernists. It seems poised in between, with a nod to the 90s (read further on) but not much beyond that to justify historical references that far back. It must be terribly difficult to reconcile the two, we've said it before.


Guerlain's Bouquet Numéro 1 reminds me of both a less sugary or dense 90s Trésor and of Estée Lauder's Pure White Linen Pink Coral from last spring minus the powdery aldehydes. Add the intense peachiness of MDCI Pêche Cardinal and you're almost there! (The same aromachemical as the latter ~which I hypothesized is Decanoic acid 5-hydroxy-lactone~ is used in this composition for the peach note). The introduction on a sharpish note of citrus plus green is meant to be refreshing. Almost immediately, the core chord of peach plus rose is palpable; that velvety, tender, very feminine lactonic vibe which was so obiquitous in the early 1990s through the bombastic popularity of ~mostly synthetic anyway~ Trésor and the products that followed in its zaftig steps. Today, when that theme has been exhausted in commercialised deodorants, body creams, even fabric softeners, it seems a little passé. Enter the bolstering of the peachiness in Bouquet Numéro 1 to render a contemporary fruity note plus ever popular white flowers deprived of their more conniving Gloria Swanson proclivities or animalistic meowing in heat.


They mention that "Guerlain in-house Perfumer Thierry Wasser has chosen to lighten the generous accents of jasmine and rose in the heart of the fragrance. Jasmine offers its light petals, and their lingering scent. Mirroring this emblematic ingredient, rose blend magnifies the heart. At the very core of the fragrance, rose epitomizes femininity. Guerlain uses the rarest essential oils of 'May rose' with a hint of honey for sensuality and 'Damask rose' for fresher and more spicy smell. These two emblematic ingredients optimize the signature of Guerlain's Bouquet n°1." Even though jasmine is touted as a core ingredient, there are no decaying indoles, or nighttime lushness; what I perceive is more of an abstract orange blossom plus a wink of honeyed lilac pollen which gives a little of an effet lessivière, polished though, while the rose, yes, it's discernible all right. The bouquet is therefore a fantasy one, much like the gardenia in the lovely Cruel Gardénia is a the idea of a flower on the drawing board seen through a camera lucida: what you see is assuredly not what you smell. Not that it matters of course! This concept of transparency and abstraction has been utilised also in their other Aqua Allegoria launch this spring, the more mainstream Flora Sudséa Nymphéa. It leaves me wondering how a perfumer of the Transparency School, like Bertrand Duchaufour or Jean Claude Ellena, would go about this kind of concept, yet I fully understand that Guerlain cannot deviate from the curvaceous path they have paved on for centuries.

The scent remains through its base notes a trail of sweet juicy peach and white musks, clean throughout. A gentle fragrance cloud rounded up at last with a delicate hint of almond aroma. The formula is more tenacious on clothes than on my skin where it retains the squeaky clean floralcy better and longer and I can report it doesn't stain. Certainly not "me" in any "cushions of white flowers thrown in a mad sexy war between lovers", but I'm at least happy it signals a deviation from the route of the last few (catastrophic in my humble opinion) Aqua Allegorias.

Aqua Allegoria Bouquet Numéro 1 is Guerlain's first global travel retail exclusive fragrance and available in 75ml of Eau de Toilette.

A sample of Guerlain Bouquet No.1 will be handed out to a lucky reader, randomly picked from the comments. Draw is now closed, thanks!

The bottle was purchased by me. All Guerlain photos taken & copyrighted by Elena Vosnaki.

Sasha Varon Soulgasm : fragrance review

Sasha Varon Luxe Parfums is behind Soulgasm, the first of what seems a new line of perfumes self-positioning into niche territory. The main factor that I was interested in trying it was that part of the proceeds for each sale of Soulgasm goes to the charity Vitamin Angels.
Vitamin Angels reduces child mortality by connecting infants and children under five with vital nutrients, especially vitamin A and zinc, and has been working in 40 countries around the world in 2009. Vitamin Angels has been awarded two consecutive 4-star ratings from Charity Navigator for sound fiscal management, so I guess they do send over the "green". (visit vitaminangels.org for more info)

The company boldyly presents itself thus: "Established to create masterpieces uniquely rebellious of today’s status quo, Sasha Varon steals the stage with its first offering; SOULGASM, Heaven Sent, Hell-bent…
In an oversaturated market where packaging differentiation is crucial for sales success, Sasha Varon’s Soulgasm, with its provocative, sexy, vintage-inspired styling & feel takes you back in time, telling a story that reaches out and dares you not to pick it up and satisfy your curiosity".
NOTES for Soulgasm:
Head: Succulent Peach, Anjou Pear, South African Freesia, Ripe Black Currant
Heart: Wild, Night-Blooming Jasmine, Delicate Eurasian Lily, Multi-Faceted Woodberry
Base: Clean Musk, Warm Amber, Sweet French Vanilla

Sounds cool? Hmmm....Colour me sceptic.


I can't say I was impressed by Soulgasm's scent, certainly not in reference to the expectations that the ad copy creates (paradisial and inferno-touched at the same time, please note)! And the retro packaging and burlesque-inspired playful images (boosted by 40s-style jazzy music on the site) that accompany it prepare one for something completely different! In that respect there is a serious incongruity between image and scent: I'm sure they have their reasons.
Left to one's own devices, one (not me, I'm afraid) might appreciate the fragrance for what it is: a very mainstream and potent fruity floral. Certainly in a sea of fruity florals it is difficult to differentiate between them and indeed smelling Soulgasm reminded me of something I couldn't put my finger on. Was it the peachy Maybe Baby and the pear-meets-wet-dog-note of Petite Cherie rolled into one? Perhaps. The thing is the scent is VERY fruity, peach-dominated with strong berry notes and not especially floral, more shampoo-directed. One would be hard pressed to distinguish specific notes under the fruits, although I'm sure there is synth lily of the valley and synth violet to help expand the feel and open up the fruits ~as if it was necessary. It is very lasting and judging by my small sample vial which allowed a few squirts it projects quite a bit. Fruito-phobics should keep their distance.

The fragrance is available exclusively online and at Beautycafe.com
You can check out for yourself at Soulgasm (The site is really well done and the music is great auditory backrground if you're doing something menial, like washing dishes or taping envelopes at the office, while thinking about 40s classic noirs: I guess they did those things then too but more glamorously!)

In the interests of full disclosure I was sent a sample vial via a PR promotion.

Peche Cardinal by parfums MDCI: fragrance review

"The recipe for Pêche Melba, created by Auguste Escoffier for Dame Nellie Melba, is set down in his encyclopaedic Le Guide Culinaire (1903) with bald simplicity: “Poach the skinned peaches in vanilla-flavoured syrup. When very cold, arrange them in a timbale on a bed of vanilla ice-cream and coat with raspberry purée”. Melba apparently adored the chef’s Pêche Cardinal au coulis de framboise, of poached peaches in a “cardinal’s coat” of crushed raspberries". [1] If you substitute Péché (sin) for Pêche (peach), they could be talking about the latest fragrance by Parfums MDCI, Péché Cardinal, hold the sweeter aspects of the famous pod and substitute with lightly phenolic. I might be forgiven the gustatory association, given my intense appreciation for all things culinary.

Péché Cardinal is a naughty, juicy, succulent yet also classy and enticing peach fragrance of the latest crop of fruity compositions. The playful name alludes to both the gigantic peach at its core, as well as Cardinal Sin, what it translates to from the French. The fragrance was developed by perfumer Amandine Marie from the acclaimed Robertet firm, drawing from their rich palette of self-sourced materials.
The Parfums MDCI Paris brand was founded by Claude Marchal, inspired by the "Galerie d'Apollon" in the Louvre Museum, the Musei dei Uffizzi in Florence, the fabulous Schatzkammer in Vienna (the Treasure Room) and the Greek and Roman antiques in the collections of Cardinal Mazzarin, the Medicis, and the Sun King Louis XIV. He wanted to create a line that would make no cut-backs but would give carte blanche to the talented perfumers who were free to explore any direction and to use any precious material they saw fit regardless of the price.

The juiciest, most buttery peach note (is it Decanoic acid 5-hydroxy- lactone?) is immediately bursting on the skin upon application of Péché Cardinal, lasting for several minutes, and with a warm feeling that reminds one of hot spring days and tropical cocktails drunk with an hibiscus tucked beneath the ear. The surprise comes however in the underlying darkness which emerges slowly in the form of va-va-voom tuberose, a little smoky, dusky cedar and the feel of human skin that exalts them. The plummy/fruity/rosy damascones add a plush, silky feeling not unheard of since Nombre Noir and Feminité du Bois became a household name. Davana oil, a CO2 extraction, comes from artemisia pallens, a South India plant cultivated in Karnataka, Tamil Nadu and Andhra Pradesh and was previously featured in Parfumerie Generale scents (such as the salubrious Cozé, more of which later on). Its rich, fruity candy note with an earthy facet runs through its fibre. The composition of Péché Cardinal is like the most vivid brocard which shines from certain angles and subsides from others. And the lasting power is very good indeed!

Nevertheless, much as I like the peachiness and vibrancy of its mien I cannot really envision myself wearing Péché Cardinal a lot, my usual tastes running into shadier, less vivid peaches overladden with oakmoss galore to make them wistful instead of outright sexy. But those who have been dreaming of an enormous fruity embrace that is devoid of any soupçon of tackiness thanks to its drydown troublant (in a good way!), have just found their peachy floral to end their quest. You can imagine characters such as the following wearing it with panache!



Regarding the much discussed about packaging, personally ~and perhaps exactly due to my background~ I find the Roman bust caps of Limoges/bisque on the bottles somewhat disproportionate (top-heavy) and maybe a bit kitschy in their classical antiquity nuance, reminding me of descendants of glorious civilisations feeling compelled to include gypsum busts of ancient Gods on the front lawn next to the pool. But apart from that very minor gripe, I can't complain as the line is created with exceptional artistry and elegance. Taking in mind the bust-topped bottles retail at 610$ at Luckyscent for 60ml of Eau de Parfum, I find that the modest refills at 235$ for the same quantity are a much more logical alternative.

Apart from samples at Luckyscent (for a comparatively meek 4$), as well as larger ones at Aus liebe zum duft (but for 12 euros each), there is an option of a sampler set at the official MCDI site.
The MCDI line also includes two masculines: Invasion Barbare and Ambre Topkapi as well as three feminines: Rose de Siwa, Promesse de l'Aube and Enlévement au Sérail, composed by perfumers Stéphanie Bakouche, Pierre Bourdon and Francis Kurkdjian. The newest entries for 2009 along with Péché Cardinal, are Un Coeur en Mai, Vêpres Siciliennes, and Le Rivage des Syrtes by perfumers Jeanne-Marie Faugier (Technicoflor) and Patricia de Nicolaï (of parfums de Nicolaï)

More info: Parfums MDCI, Tel.: 01 41 440193.

Notes for MDCI Peche Cardinal:
Davana, peach, coconut, blackcurrant, tuberose, prune, lily, cedar, sandalwood, musc

[1]Jill Dupleix in Timesonline.co.uk,Clip uploaded by sparrowis3 on Youtube, pic of flacon via punmiris.com, of Amandine Marie via MCDI