Chypre series 3: the new contestants

 If we are to talk about New Chypres (also nouveau chypres or "pink chypres" see below), we need to clarify some things. If you're new to Perfume Shrine's Chypre Series, please refer to the following basic articles:
What ARE "chypre perfumes"?
What are the aesthetics of chypre fragrances?
What's the history and zeitgeist of "chypre" evolution?

In our quest for chypre perfumes we stumble upon a peculiar phenomenon: there are scarcely any true chypres getting produced in the last 25 years!! Why is that? The answer is two-fold and fascinating in its denouement.

First of all, there is the matter of ingredients getting replaced and restricted, with oakmoss being the most crucial and prominent one as mentioned before. However surely this is a very recent phenomenon that only lately has seriously affected perfumers and houses into producing fragrances that do not make use of this elusive, wonderfully sensual ingredient. For example it was only at the beginning of the year that Mitsouko begun its journey into its latest reformulation, the one that lowers the oakmoss magnificence into the accountant-minded IFRA guidelines. Perhaps it's just as well that the process is going slowly in those instances so one can stockpile a favourite version/vintage while they still can. Labdanum is also slowly being replaced by other ingredients. Miss Dior, this legendary New Look debutante has had a makeover by Queer Eye for the Straight Guy. The effect is not quite as endearingly old-fashioned as it used to be. The sister fragrance (or should I say evil step-sister?) Miss Dior Cherie is the new direction in which the pendulum swings.

Nevertheless there must have been something else besides ingredients' embargo at play, influencing trends and production, which we will explore in another installment on the Chypre series real soon.

In the meantime, it might be interesting to note that after what seemed a total eclipse of chypres in releases of late years, there has been a new category of fragrances coming out slowly but surely that although not typical of their family they bear the illustrious label regardless.

They encompass lovely watercolours like Narciso for Her by Narciso Rodriguez, the coquette qui fait la coquinne Coco Mademoiselle by Chanel (classed either as floriental or fruity chypre, leaning more to an orientalised patchouli), the grapefuit laden abstraction of Ralph Lauren's Pure Turqoise , the sexy safron rosiness of Agent Provocateur that might have been at the vanguard of the trend.
These new entries into the galaxy of chypre have been ingeniously coined by Ayala Moriel as "pink chypres", simply because they exude a modern, young and girly air that is a novel take on the old sophistication of a classic chypre.

Michael Edwards, the man who is responsible for the "Fragrances of the World" system is classifying them under the "mossy woods" umbrella as evidenced in the Sephora directory. Oakmoss is mentioned in the introductory note, yet it is distinctly shunning the invitation in several of those listed.

But then how conclusive are fragrance families and categories anyway?

Referenced in the series "Que sais-je?" in the volume Le Parfum Jean Claude Ellena notes:

I've taken part in the perfume classification committee of the Société Française des Parfumeurs, but nowadays I wonder what its use really is. [...]In today's olfactory classifications, I believe that the most valuable information lies in the perfume's date of creation, its name, and the name of the brand that launched it on the market. The date allows us to put perfumes in an evolutionary perspective (as long as we are able to smell them), while product names and brands give us some indication of the degree of creativity involved in each company. (p. 77-78)

(quote copied from Marcello on nowsmellthis)

Clearly this is a renouncement of formal classifications and perhaps a rather elitist streak, one might say, that runs into this 60 year old minimalist perfumer responsible for such masterpieces as First by Van Cleef, Declaration by Cartier, the Hermessences and the Jardin series (en Mediteranee and sur le Nil) for Hermes and numerous others. But then again Jean Claude has a family which cherises aromas in everyday life and sits down to Christmas dinner hiding little aromatic gifts under the napkins. His daughter is also a perfumer, Cecile Ellena, the co-nose of The Different Company. It goes with the territory.

With that in mind, if we choose to take his side, this new category of chypres is worth exploring even though they lack the characteristic bergamot-oakmoss accord that is typical of the classics of yesterday.

So what goes into the production of those modern chypres?

The typical bergamot top of classic chypres has long been known to be phototoxic, resulting in brown patches on the skin upon exposure to UV radiation. It has been advised ever since I can recall to avoid placing perfume in spots that would be exposed to the sun, exactly because of that. And it has been well-known and accepted for decades. Why it has become such a derisive issue now, which demands the restriction of its use in minute amounts or the clear labelling on the box, is a matter that has to do with complicated legal reasons and the fervent desire of companies to not get entantangled in judicial battles that would cost them fortunes.
Bergamot has thus been shunned for other citrusy and bright top notes that include fresh and slightly bitter grapefruit, sweet mandarin and tangerine (like in Miss Dior Cherie), homely orange in some cases, and even floral essences that marry the florancy with the high volatility and sparkle of hesperides, like neroli or even orange blossom (as is the case in Narciso which uses a synthesized orange blossom that is also apparent in this year's launches for men Dior Farhenheit 32 and Gaultier Fleur du Male).

Fruity notes such as mangosteen (Hillary Duff With Love), lichi, watermelon and passion fruit (Masaki Matsushima Masaki), strawberry (Miss Dior Cherie)and berries (Badgley Mischka) are also appearent, although this might have to do with the overuse of fruity aromas in perfumes of recent launch anyway.
Sweet gourmand touches (caramelised pop corn of Miss Dior Cherie and creme de cassis in Badgley Mischka) might also be attributed to that and not to any desire to revolutionise the chypre notion any further. Which is just as good...

Oakmoss and labdanum have been substituted by grassy, pungent vetiver ~that aromatic root from Java that is the dream of every engineer as it binds itself into substructure; and by patchouli ~that indian bush with the sweet smelling leaves that produce the most potent smell in the vegetal kingdom. The two have been the base accord of almost every new chypre to emerge since 2000 and are going steady in their triumphal marching into perfumery even in seperate capacities. They are tremendously popular notes in both feminine and masculine perfumes.

Often spicy notes, such as coriander (Emporio Armani City Glam Her), or herbal ones, such as angelica, mingle with various musks to accent the murky character of the new chypres. Producing thus oeuvres that although they bear no relation to the old-fashioned intense warmth and powder of their predecessors, they appeal to similar audiences; audiences who have been conditioned to love chypres since childhood perhaps, be it from received memories through beloved family members, or through an appreciation for the unidentifiable character of those Old World sumptuous fragrances.

In any case the future for modern chypres is looking very bright indeed!


Next installement will tackle matters of aesthetics.

Top pic sent to me by mail unaccredited, pic of Narciso bottle courtesy of Nordstrom.com

Jasmine series: part 5 ~fresh jasmine suggestions

After a hopefully in depth exploration of richer and heavier jasmine fragrances, it's time to concentrate on some that are airier and more transparent, fit for those days when fragrancing oneself should seem like a breeze and not a serious seduction mission. They also lend themselves well to hot climates and soaring temperatures, if you happen to live in those conditions take note. Very often hedione or cis-jasmone (which has an almost anise or liquorice smell by itself) is used to render the illusion of smelling a live jasmine vine.

In this exploration Blush by Marc Jacobs is the first to come in mind, like a gauze of light salmon/peach , reflecting the skin like tones of the opalescent bottle and evoking a similar mood. The reality of the flower is synthesized in a lab, but the result is akin to smelling the vine from a distance on a warm evening with a citrusy top note like that from a nearby citrus tree. It has a dewiness (frankly much better than that in Jacob's eponymous scent centered on gardenia) and a translucence that usually lends itself to an instant likeability by lots of people and it can be worn on many occassions effortlessly. Of course the development is not the mercurial beast one would hope for, rather it progresses linearly, as we say in perfume-speak; meaning it does not change much on its stay on the skin ending on the predictable white musks of most commercial perfumery offerings. In the Intense version the flower elements have been amplified and the sillage/trail left behind is more intense, however I find that some of the loveliness of the original is lost, like watercolours of a painting of a flower bouquet that is copied in pastels; somehow the airiness is forever gone.

Another fresh soliflore jasmine is Annick Goutal Le Jasmin. The Goutal line of scents has a rich lineage in fragrances that smell fresh, true, crystalline and transparent in the best possible sense. They project a youthful approach even when they are more mature smelling and they are based on good ingredients that are steeped in the natural cornucopia of aromas. In that vein, the brand under the proficient baguette of Isabelle Doyen has produced a range of limited edition soliflores, based on the most precious and loveliest blossoms imaginable: Des Lys (lilies), La Violette, Le Cheuvrefeuille (honeysuckle), Le Jasmin, Le Muguet(lily of the valley) and the latest - this year's Néroli. They all merit their own space and we will return to them on subsequent series, however Le Jasmin is highlighted today because of its green tonality and sheer prettiness that makes for a very worthy acquisition in the pantheon of soliflore jasmines. The addition of waxy magnolia petals is an inspired choice along with a slightly spicy note that official info tells us it's ginger. I do not have an affinity for strong ginger notes in perfumes, so this is rather subdued to my nose, because I do like the effect quite a bit. The main drawback is that it being an eau de toilette and a light fragrance by nature, it somehow falls a little flat pretty soon and the lasting power is not the greatest. Since it is so lovable however I could imagine it being refreshed all day long with no problems.

Another crowd pleaser seems to be Pink Jasmine by Fresh. Well, Fresh their brand name is and "fresh" aromas is what they usually produce. To be totally honest I haven't been too impressed with their line in the past, apart from the very likable apothecary bottles with the cute "handwritten" style labels and the long necks with the matte silver sprayer. From their lineup I had liked the watery ambiance of Cucumber Baie (an unlikely combination that nevertheless managed to smell nice), Violet Moss with its earthy dusty smell and their Patchouli Pure which was cuddly and deep. Their Sugar versions (Sugar, Lemon Sugar, Sugar Blossom, Lychee Sugar) were too sweet and lamentably artificial to my nose; so my exploration of the line pretty much ended with last year's rather unique Memoirs of a Geisha which was nice but not enough attention-grabbing for me.
Pink Jasmine is quite new and it takes a soft approach that is not too sweet managing to inject a clean and shower fresh element with peony and magnolia bowls of petals; despite the initial impression upon first spray ~which might fool you into a false sense of an intense citrusy sharp floral. It lasts well with an aqueous impression similar to En Passant, but perhaps it is a little pricey for what you ultimately get.

For Sylvia Chantecaille, there are two roads she could go by and she chose the less travelled by...or perhaps not. Actually she chose both in a way. The heavier, more tropical one with her Frangipane and the lighter, airier with Le Jasmin by Chantecaille. Since today we're concentrating on the more crystal-like florals centered on jasmine, it seems a propos to discuss the latter's merits and shortcomings.
To its advantage it has a refreshing lightness and greenery freshness aplenty which can never be blamed for producing a headache; the inclusion of other floral notes, notably a little bit of tuberose are subdued enough to not project over the jasmine solo. However there is a touch of lily-like artificiality (which regrettably seems inherent in the lighter end of the jasmine spectrum, due to the very nature of the production methods) and the lasting power as it exits on a slight oakmoss and amber note is not tremendously satisfying either, which is a pity for the price.

In the noble stable of Bulgari only thoroughbreds are kept, so it made an impression on me that one of the versions of their venerable Bulgari pour femme, namely Voile de Jasmin fell short of my expectations that had been raised by their other version Rose Essentielle ; which has been excellent. Alas, Voile de Jasmin does not make any ripples in the pond of jasmine scents and it doesn't particularly smell of jasmine petals either. It just makes the initial composition of Pour Femme a little more soapy clean and lighter which is not really what I call progress. Stick to their Rose essentielle version if you really want your Bulgari fragrance floral.

Miller Harris came out with Jasmine Vert for her private exclusive line in her London boutique and I have to say that her translucent compositions usually use good ingredients that smell true. This is no exception and although there has to be some chemical tampering with the notes, the result is not at all artificial. The freshness is real, tangible and quite alluring like in her Fleur du Matin fragrance which marries honeysuckle to champagne-like citrusy notes for a refreshing day fragrance similar to the feeling of Cristalle. In the fragrance at hand, Jasmin Vert , if we are to continue the Chanel parable, it is greener in the vein of Chanel no.19 or Gardenia (constructed around jasmine despite the name), albeit very short on the complexity and depth, especially compared to those of the former.
However for a warm summer day when you want to let your hair down and just revel in the brightness of it all it is appropriately fitting.

L'artisan Parfumeur is famous for the limpid, light, diaphanous composition of their scents and alongside their heavier, intense La Haie Fleuri they have also produced the lovelingly ethereal Thé pour un été (=tea for summer). As its name suggests it's based on jasmine tea more than jasmine petals themselves the way florals are and along with lemony overtones it forms a decaffeinated sipping brew that can be likened to Bulgari's Eau Parfumée or a fresh Eau Sauvage that can also be worn by both sexes. Light, fleeting and not so ephemeral any more -as the brand decided to include it in their mainstay line after a stint as a limited summer edition following its success at the counter- it is meant to be used with abandon, chilled in the fridge for the hot days of summer ahead. Indulge!

OTHER HONOURABLE MENTIONS:
Due to lack of space or inability to categorise them in a specific pigeon-hole the following scents are simply mentioned as noteworthy along a jasminophile's expedition in the pursuit of jasmine-rich fragrances.
Those include the clear cut Jasmal by Creed, the simultaneously fresh and animalic paradox Night blooming Jasmine by Floris, the misnomer that is Chanel Gardenia, the happiness of youth that is represented in the tuberosy La chasse aux papillons(=chassing butterflies) by L'artisan (in the Eau de toilette concentration), the worthy limited edition of Givenchy Millesime Harvest Jasmine of India 2005 and the new exclusive by Armani éclat de Jasmin.
Perhaps a subsequent visit to all of those is in order, of which you will be notified in due course. For the time being our jasmine pilgrimage ends here. Hope you enjoyed it as much as I did.



Artwork:
Top "Girl" by greek painter Nicolaos Gyzis courtesy of Wikipedia and bottom "Reflecting" by Steve Hanks courtesy of allposters.com

Colour of the jus

Have you ever wondered if the colour of your perfume is not a haphazard choice? Have you asked yourselves if you would love it equally if it were a different hue? Or more importantly if the people involved in creating it have actually exerted any brainstorming about this?
A funny incident happened a while ago and made me consider the issue from another angle than the mere personal.

On a fine lunch hour shopping spree I passed from that shop that was inspired by Moses' wife and rhymes with catastrophe in Greek (which is what my significant other always mutters when he sees a bag with the white-on-black logo of it). I am referring of course to Sephora.
As I was browsing, nodding to myself "already tested", "already tested", "already tested", I come close to a couple at the Lauder shelves. Casually dressed but well groomed (the european groomed casual chic), around 30 both.
The girl, a dark haired one, rather pretty, grabs the tester for Knowing and ooohs and aaahs saying "Oh, this is my favourite perfume in the world, wore it so much". (I am thinking she wanted the guy to take the hint and buy it for her- and she was not the mercenary type at all). The guy seems uninterested and browses beside her, going "uh huh". She then picks up Cinnabar, as they have the older Lauders all grouped together. "This is nice too" she comments smelling the bottle.(I agree) She gives it to the guy, who says they are both rather heavy, vetoing the decision. She is even motioning to pick up the Youth Dew, when he intervenes and says : "Imagine how heavy that one must be; it's almost black!!" She never finished the motion to pick it up and sniff the bottle, as she didn't do it with Aliage either (which is also quite dark). And immediately he goes on and picks the nearby Alien (Sephora places them alphabetically and Mugler is after Lauder). "Now this is lighter, better" he quips. (the "light" thing merits its own discussion in another post) She made a face. I just about wanted to smack him at that point! Both because he denied her what she obviously liked and because he showed his prejudices about perfume picking. I didn't follow them to see what they bought in the end. I didn't have the luxury of time. Maybe they didn't buy anything. If they did however it was not what she wanted, she seemed crestfallen....
I don't see these two making it to the aisle and that doesn't refer to the shopping kind.
The little story has a moral though. People judge with their eyes as much as with their noses.

There is another great story that has been recounted to me by J, known as Teacake, a sweet Australian-based lady. She mentioned that someone young (a teenager actually) who was a friend of her daughter had proclaimed upon viewing her collection that "yellow/golden juices don't smell nice, only pink and blues do". That comment has been a mini-epiphany for me. Seriously: it made me realise that indeed the colour of the jus really denotes the target market as well as the olfactory family in most cases: fruity florals and "fresh" scents which were all the rage with the young some nanoseconds ago are indeed pink or blue!

I don't think this is an accident. I believe it has to do with the mentality that yellow jus is older, classic perfumes that are associated with natural ingredients (no naturals are coloured pink or blue, except chamomille of course and they don't use it in most commercial perfumery because of that unstable blueish tint that might ruin the general effect).
If one stops and thinks about it most of the classics are pale golden or light ambery: Shalimar, Femme, Mitsouko, Joy, Chanel #5, Bois des iles, L'heure bleu. They all vibrate at some variation of wee colour. There are a few notable exceptions like Chanel #19 or the afore mentioned Youth Dew, but still no pink or blue or even purple coloured perfume existed till quite recently. Certain natural ingredients do have a deep colour: Peru Balsam is molasses dark; natural jasmine turns almost orange with the passing of time, sometimes alarming us into thinking that a perfume containing it has turned.

Pink and blue juice on the other hand usually has a highly synthetic construction that guarantees the stability of colour and the unnatural hue of the finished product.
Personally, I have a deep seated aversion to the colour blue in fragrances, although I do appreciate it in other permutations (the sea, glassware and jewels come to mind). I think it shows an insurmountable lack of imagination on behalf of the person who opts for it; especially if it's a man, I'm afraid. It's such an easy, safe choice! What's your favourite colour? 9 out of 10 men reply blue, if asked out of the blue about it (am I being punny?). I don't hear fuschia (too gay), chesnut(too difficult; do they even know it's a shade?), vermillon (it sounds like a french recipe for something involving snails or frog's legs) or even black (the odd rocker/goth/outcast/mysterious Lothario picks that one up out of the 10.....thank God fot that)
In perfume terms it usually denotes an overload of the dreaded fakeness that is the "marine" note. Yeah.....marine for people born and raised and living all their lives in the Chezh Republic(a landlocked country); having no passport on top of that. I am categorically adamant that the sea does not smell like any of the marine fragrances out there I have ever smelled. I do keep hoping some day they will catch the elusive trail. I live in hope.

Anyway, younger folks tend to associate the hip and new with those pastel hues, dismissing the rest as "old ladies' perfume". In their desire to mark their territory and draw the line, maping their own identity, revolting from what their parents wear, they go for the pink and blue, with the odd inclusion of purple for those who like a smidgeon of mystery (or so they imagine).
So companies churn out perfumes in those colours. It's all marketing, I'm afraid.


Pic was sent to me via mail uncredited, probably courtesy of an advertising campaign (MAC maybe?)
Not sure, but great photo nonetheless.