Un Jardin Apres la Mousson by Hermes: fragrance review

Visiting the Hermès boutique, at which an appointment was made for olfactory appreciation purposes, is a reward in itself. The new summer collection has arrived, in maroquinerie and silk accessories as well as clothes, all in vivid, shocking pinks of India, warm apricots and light greens with themes of elephants and mangoes. And among those the newest fragrance, Un Jardin Après La Mousson (a garden after the monsoon).

This is the latest to join the Jardin trio in the house's more approachable series, which finds itself one regular step behind the grand feminines and masculines and a full rumba step behind the Hermessences. After Un Jardin en Mediteranée, inspired by the Mediterranean and focusing on bittersweet figs and Un Jardin sur le Nil, which focused on green mango (and coming off as grapefruit on a bed of wood shaves), Un Jardin Après La Mousson takes the surprising fruity note of cantaloupe as the thesis for a little summery dance around it, with a sideways wink to Le Parfum de Thérèse in the F.Malle lineup.

Calone, the uber-marine synthetic, is often anathema for myriads of perfume lovers who have declared war on it. Ellena wanted to create a water accord, farther from the usual marine note: I admit I am among the legion who hate Calone and am wondering why it seems like it sneaked its way into a composition that is proclaiming itself a vegetal-spicy. Regarding the latter part, pepper is the protagonist among the spices with its short-wave of coolness, reminiscent of the accord created for Poivre Samarkand. Vetiver in turn disrobes of its earthy, pungent character in a molecular reconstruction by Ellena which sheds the layers of dirty to leave behind a proper and "clean" note that is more like a fabric softener or a good after-shave cream than the viscous essential oil. There is the vegetal theme explored in Kelly Calèche and the mineral aspect of Terre d'Hermès, which combined might appear as laziness, but I suspect is Ellena's way of showing conviction and homogeneity in what he does for the brand.

In the article titled Liquid Assets by Phoebe Eaton for The New York Times, choke full of beautiful pictures, the journey of Jean Claude Ellena to Kerala, India (the cornerstone in the spice market) in a quest for inspiration is recounted for our benefit. Staying at the Kumarakom Lake Resort on the shores of Vembanad Lake in February, Ellena profited from a sojourn in the tropics. And it would be wicked to suggest he goes for such ideas for the chance to do so.

Observation: Jean Claude, despite his identity card and citizenship, doesn't look French. He doesn't dress French. More importantly he doesn't compose perfumes in the French tradition. Instead, he looks Italian (which he is in part) or Greek (which I'd like to think he is judging by his name) and his whole outlook on life and art seems focused in the sparsity and translucence of style that is embedded in the classical tradition of those two cultures. He accepts ornamentation when it serves functionality or innovation, but not otherwise. Like an architect who shuns Caryatids when they don't actually support something or a couturier who abhors brooches which don't hold a dress in place.

He also seems to compose for the particular micro-climate of those two countries, as the rising temperatures of late spring and summer are especially simpatico to the cooling feel of his Jardins, but also Hermessences series. Those scents act as portable air-conditioning around a person, giving an effect of dry cool without the fizzy banalité of sodas perpetuated by the pink fruity florals on the market. I predict his latest offering will sell well in warmer countries which are however removed from the tradition of opulence.

To judge his latest offering we should question ourselves:
Is he loyal to his vision? He assuredly is. He is honing his style, stretching it to its maximum extremities, trying to ascertain that upon sniffing people will exclaim "Mais, c'est un Ellena!" the way they would do it for a Picasso or a Pollock. And incidentally always subtracting, just as they did. He goes for abstraction, not realism.
Is he faithful to Kerala, India? Not particularly, and maybe the fact that the fragrance got promoted in that way leaves something to be desired in the perfume-lover's stakes, much like the leather tag did for Kelly Caleche. It's usually unthinkable to do India without copious amounts of spice and orientalised compositions, although Patou with his Sira des Indes went for the novel approach succesfully with his banana-laced fruity a while ago.
Is he loyal to the Hermès style? This is the trickiest question of the three. Hermès has gone through a dramatic shift in image by hiring Ellena. The older fragrances exuded a luxurious feel of an upscale, very expensive boutique for the elite with the inclusion of precious materials and the honeyed scents of perceived affluence. That image was luxe but also a tad stuffy, prim, too bon chic bon genre and thus ultimately a cliché. The new direction of luxury demands airier scents, ingredients that look humble but perform on a higher level than their constituents (a reconstructed "clean" vetiver for Mousson, a mineral accord for brilliant Terre d'Hermès, a floral-smelling suede note for Kelly Calèche) which, like the recent trend in gastronomy that put back humble rocket on our tables after what seemed like decades, dubs you as not trying too hard. And proper chic, the chic that Hermès is obviously aiming at, is never trying too hard.

In those terms, Un Jardin Après la Mousson is succesful for what it set out to do. Whether it would be my first choice for personal fragrance is seriously debatable. Un Jardin sur le Nil proved to be so lovable and so suited to my summer sensibilities that I am not considering to replace it with the new one. I don't see a void in my collection, to be honest. But I wouldn't resort to aphorisms either!

The fragrance is completely unisex and marketed as such. It performs much better on skin than on the mouillette (blotter) where it loses much of its piquancy. It is rather fleeting however, in comparison to the other Jardins who hold their own well, and might stay put longer if you spray fabric, on which it also performs well.
The complimentary body products (body mist without alcohol: 42euros for 100ml, body lotion: 39euros for 200ml, shower gel: 33euros for 200ml ~and the two limited edition products dry oil: 40euros for 100ml and body mist without alcohol: 42euros for 100ml) are luxurious, though less scented than the Eau de toilette. The latter is presented in a gorgeous bottle which has a degradé of shades from the cap down, from light green to vivid blue and the box illustrations are simply adorable.

Notes: cardamom, coriander, pepper, ginger, Kahili ginger flower (not related to ginger root), vetiver.

Available at the Hermès Boutique US and France, the physical Hermès boutiques, at Saks and soon in department stores worldwide.
Eau de toilette: 83 euros for 100ml

And if you have a few minutes to spare in fun, click here.

Pic via Hermes, boxes courtesy of the Purseblog.com

31 Rue Cambon from Chanel Les Exclusifs: fragrance review

The Chanel perfume from the line Les Exclusifs that goes by the address tag 31 Rue Cambon is named after Chanel's main boutique in Paris and also the day-time appartment above it that she used as a study and reception room for friends.
The contrast between the baroque apartment and the more austere composition of this scent is intentional according to Jacques Polge who created it, as he did with the whole new line.

31 Rue Cambon is an experimental chypre that omits the classic oakmoss note of the standard chypre composition and is touted as a "dry, musky, nutty scent." I think Serge Lutens tried a similar stunt with his Chypre Rouge, last autumn, which does not smell particularly chypre to me.
Here the formula starts indeed with a dry element that is sparkling and radiant. The substitution of oakmoss has resulted in a novel iris-pepper accord that according to dr.Turin is used here for the first time to render the impression of sensuality and powderiness that would normally be provided by the sensual backdrop of oakmoss and married to different batches of patchouli for the mossy feel. According to an interview of Polge in French paper Le Figaro, Polge is not a great fan of oakmoss anyway, because he finds the smell bitter. A self-proclaimed oriental lover, mr.Polge had to search for exotic varieties of patchouli growth to substitute the moss element that is needed in a chypre composition and came up with a new style. Which is not really chypre smelling either. In fact I would call it a chypre-oriental, if pressed to classify it and you will see why as you proceed.

The green spicy burst at the start gives way to softer accents following the herbal notes and the bergamot-rich top. The iris note here is neither earthy nor ethereal, as we’re sometimes used to perceiving it. Instead it hangs there twisting and turning in little waltz quick steps with the spiciness of the first olfactory hits when you spray the juice to your skin. The piquancy of pepper is very welcome and never overwhelming which suggests a restrained hand.
As it stays on it starts to develop more powdery and flowery aspects like –seemingly- hyacinth with rose and jasmine that remind us of the traditional heart of a classic chypre, yet the whole is based on a woody ambience of sandalwood and possibly amber that reminds me a lot of the soft sweetish echo of other perfumes in the line, like
28 La Pausa and Coromandel. Despite their initial claim that “we tried to do fragrances which are very different from one another” I think they also tried to lend a homogenous quality in them that would identify them as Chanel. I don’t think that could be very doable in so diverse a collection, but it does have familiarity with those and with other Chanels,as discussed before.
The lingering base of patchouli is as far away from headshop and earthy varieties as possible and certainly less pronounced than in Coromandel which seems a little more current and sensual in feeling.
In fact 31 Rue Cambon is quite Chanel in style as it aims at timelessness and probably the most elegant of the new lot.
Maybe because of those elements of wood and amber the lasting power in this one is not bad. It’s definitely not fleeting like the green fairy of Bel Respiro or the pretty posy of 28 La Pausa, but then it isn’t as satisfyingly lasting as Coromandel either, which is a pity.

The general effect is slightly aloof and certainly elegant, which will account for its marked success with people shopping Chanel and wanting to complement their expensive clothing and accessories with something fragrant in completely magnetic bottles (and I utter that last bit both figuratively -as the caps close magnetically- and figuratively).
Whether it is the best chypre in the last 30 years, as it had been initially hailed almost a month ago, remains to be judged upon subsequent applications and the test of time. I think it was rather an ambitious claim to begin with.


Art photography by Chris Borgman courtesy of his site.