Estee Lauder Pleasures: fragrance review

Can there be a fragrance "fit for every woman in every season and at every moment"? A long, long time ago, this held true through the notion of the "signature scent", the olfactory equivalent of a calling card. During the 1990s - smack in the middle of which Pleasures was launched by American champion of the cosmetics counter, Estee Lauder - this notion had fallen sideways in favor of the cash-bringing concept of a "fragrance wardrobe".

photo by Edward Steichen via

Much as the hereby contradicting brief therefore foretold of a foible in capturing "the moment", the commercial success of Pleasures was cemented in reinforced concrete. And even the scent somewhat hints at the smell of concrete itself. But let me explain.

A fragrance for every season and every moment, for every woman, is by definition somewhat inoffensive, crowd pleasing, middle of the road. No big ripples, no histrionics, but no soft whisper either; it should be recognizably shared, coveted as the mark of the Aristotelean kalos kagathos. Alberto Morillas is the perfumers' equivalent of kalos kagathos, in the very best sense. Or maybe he's just got the touch of Midas, everything he touches turns to gold; there's that, too.

Pleasures owes its immaculate sheen to a preponderance of aldehydes, those frothy, citrusy, soapy materials handed down from mother's and grandmother's perfume, soaked into copious amounts of musk for clean starchiness that recalls the smell of wet concrete after the rain. It's Morillas's Spanish background (with a hand from Annie Byzantian) that is the rock-bed on which the double notion of clean yet piquant rests, and which forms the reigning glory of Pleasures. The rising peppery warmth (highlighted on an already warm skin) thanks to the unusual but tiny addition of the mesmerizing and pricey karo-karounde extract and the soft pink pepper (i.e. baie rose) add to the more prim aspects to create something that is beyond scrubbed clean, it's handsome.

You can also read about one of the print advertisements of Pleasures seen through an Art History lens on this link.

Annick Goutal Les Absolus Ambre Sauvage: fragrance review

ISIPCA perfumer teacher Isabelle Doyen and art director for the Goutal brand Camille Goutal have proven their flair for the concept of an "oriental" perfume mainly through the collection Les Orientalistes some years ago. A trio of worthwhile scents came out in 2007 including Ambre Fetiche Encens Flamboyant and Myrrhe Ardente. The collection was augmented in 2008 with Musc Nomade a firm favorite of mine in the stakes of intimate musk fragrances. Their current output on the orientalist theme for their more upscale line Les Absolus(there's also Vanille Charnelle and 1001 Ouds) leaves me rather hesitant as to how much this is a corporate decision rather than an artistic one; especially taking into consideration the details surrounding Ambre Sauvage.

via

One look at the luxurious packaging and the price asked (195 euros for 75ml of eau de parfum) suggests a target audience of wealthy patrons shopping for posh gifts; Cartier lighters and Tiffany's more serious silver pieces engraved for the ocassion. This is undoubtedly true for most niche fragrance brands nowadays; just look at the Section d'Or by Serge Lutens (including L'Incidiaire and all the others) with its stratospheric prices! It's not an easy to digest truth for readers of perfume blogs and fora but it is nonetheless true enough and one should at one point make peace with the facts.

But what about the scent?

Sauvage (i.e. wild) is a name brandished a lot in 2015 because of the masculine fragrance launch of the same name by Christian Dior and LVMH. Loosely based on part of the name of the classic Eau Sauvage from the 1960s the modern Sauvage is anything but. Similarly Ambre Sauvage (Wild Amber) by Annick Goutal is not to be taken literally.

Amber by its own makeup is a scent produced by the synergy of two colliding forces; the dark resinous id of labdanum/cistus and the malleable softness of vanillin super-ego. I have elsewhere described how some ambers seem to be like child-POV engulfing hugs by well meaning aunts; too much of a good thing. Thankfully the refined French aesthetic of Doyen and Goutal ensure that their manipulation of the materials is never saturated. The raw materials become in their hands building blocks of a gouache where the colors melt into one another to the point where you can't quite discern where one begins and one ends. Doyen and Goutal have argued that basing their concept on the etymology of raw materials is a whole different ball game than working on memories; memories can only go as far in the pursuit of olfactory accuracy. By following the material's arc one can direct themselves into a mapped out path and deviate knowingly.

This is at once grace and irony in this case nevertheless: with sauvage in the name one expects something untamed and untramelled even by the codes of gallic civility and correct navigation. Neither the inclusion of patchouli (a lightly chypre facet) nor the wink of a leather-animalic quality in the top notes evoke a wildness that would be out of place in a salon. Ambre Sauvage is a classic refined amber rather than a poet maudit. Unlike Ambre Sultan by Lutens with its uncinventional aromatic impression of a Moroccan dish the Goutal fragrance is quite Parisian.

These two elements (leather and patchouli) do lend nevertheless a sophisticated character that cuts it above the soup of sameness among many ambres in the niche market. A delicious cooling smoke-chocolate hint recalls the treatment of lavender drawn through to its caramelic end of the spectrum in Doyen's L'Eau de Lavande for Annick Goutal many many years ago... The more Ambre Sauvage dries down the more it declaws itself; thanks to vanilla absolute coming forth creamy and smooth and mouthwatering but never cloyingly sweet. And it's perfect on a man as well. It's hard to dislike Ambre Sauvage.

Furthermore Ambre Sauvage smells dangerously close to Ambre Fetiche. Although the latter is among the better ambers out there (and one of the ambers I personally wear for that very reason) the launch of the former at this point in time suggests that a rather more concentrated edition with obviously high end packaging is meant to aim at more moneyied customers. Not necessarily more discerning ones. One might want to make peace with the facts at last.

Divine Spirituelle: fragrance review and samples draw

Certain perfumes give an illusory first impression like people who come into a party seemingly underdressed only to impress you with their smarts and true chic as the night unfolds. Spirituelle, the latest Divine fragrance, an at once delicate and spirited take on the rosy powdery floral, took me a cursory first sniff and then a much more attentive one to appreciate its twists that put the chic into the chica. It ended up winning me and might win you too if you're either a floral phobic or a rose hater, so lend me your eyes for a sec.

Bulle Ogier via Photobucket/francomac123

Two major themes play into the blueprint of Spirituelle. The first one is a dessert-worthy succulent note that derives from the two rose absolutes (one from Turkey, the other from France), flanked by rosy, fresh spice on one side and a smooth lightly ambery caress on the other. The feeling is not unlike the deliciousness of Neela Vermeire's Mohur eau de parfum, rendered here more ethereal and a bit less dense. Never too sweet, but inviting.

The second theme is the wink of a smoky cigarette note that rises only from a certain distance. The French are known for their predilection for smoking and I don't smoke myself as a rule, so the illusory effect is not a trail off my clothing or skin. Rather it recalls the practice of French perfumes of yore which had a compatible ambience to human habits: food, sex, drink and smoke. The hand is quicker than the eye (or the nose, as circumstances apply): the effect is lightweight and imperceptible if not told about beforehand. Chapeau then for such a clever little conjurer's trick which makes Divine Spirituelle go beyond the polite, prim and beige rose perfume that so many fragrance companies issue for Victoriana admiring fans, without on the other hand falling into the commonality of either patchouli nor oud.


Spirituelle comes as the 11th creation for Divine, the small niche brand by Yvon Mouchel, founded in the small town of Dinard. Perfumer Richard Ibanez who worked on Spirituelle has been a longtime partner with the Divine brand: he was the one composing the word-of-mouth cult first Divine scent, Divine by Divine.

I have 6 perfume samples for an equal number of lucky readers. Please let me know your experiences with rose in the comments to be eligible for the draw. Draw is open internationally till Friday midnight and winner will be announced in the weekend.

Fragrance notes for Divine Spirituelle:

Top: pink pepper, Sichuan pepper, geranium, cistus
Middle: May rose absolute, Anatolian rose absolute
Base: Texas cedarwood, white amber, white musk, incense.

Spirituelle is available as eau de parfum (50, 100, 200ml splash bottles or 30 and 50 refillable spray bottles) and as pure parfum extrait 20ml.

Parfums de Rosine Majalis: fragrance review & sample draw

Les Parfums de Rosine, Marie-Helene Rogeon's outfit borrowing only the name of the original Poiret line, do their utmost to stretch poor rose to the limit, like on a Procrustean bed, but I admit that I quite like Majalis, their newest launch, thanks to its tawny cinnamic and peppery blast which is sweet music to my ears. This style never fails to make me want to break out the flimsy scarves and the rusty sunsets lipstick and belly dance a bit in front of the mirror as if no one's watching and no one's ever the wiser; a gift to myself alone.

Photo of Leda Petit by Jocelen Janon (originally the photo was larger and copyrighted but where I found it it was cropped) 

As announced a little while ago, the newly launched Majalis is inspired by the unique Rosa majalis, native to the Asian mountains, to render a soft oriental with spicy complementary notes of pink pepper and nutmeg on a woody background. Bulgarian rose absolute contributes a bright and heady heart note.

It is essential to like cinnamon (see a bit of cinnamon's history on this article) and peppery stuff to appreciate Majalis, because the content in cinnamic elements is so high that I almost can hear IFRA's breath down its neck itching to wield the axe and go off with its head. Les Parfums de Rosine affectionally call the inspirational rose a "cinnamon rose" and it's not hard to see why. But although we have come to associate cinnamon with orange & cloves from the classic Christmas melange sold in specialized tea shops and the festive pot pouri mixes originating from the medieval pomander, the composition of Majalis insists on more peppery (rather than clove-y) elements which pique and give a short rather than prolonged nasal pinch. It's also rather different from Rose Kashemerie by the same brand which is more resinous and saffron infused, less powerfully spicy. [In fact Majalis nicely falls into the "mellis accord" more on which you can read on our Oriental Perfume Basics. ]

If I were to draw a perfume comparison, I'd mention Cinabre by Maria Candida Gentile, a composition built on some gorgeous naturals which is as honking loud and as gorgeous as Sophia Loren in Marriage Italian Style. Cinabre is rather more ambery and with a distinct ginger note, while Majalis is less so, but the style is not miles away, so if you like one, you'll like the other. Although Rousse by Serge Lutens is another fragrance that immediately leaps to mind when thinking about cinnamon scents (and to a lesser degree Auburn by Tauer Perfumes), I find that the treatment there is different from the orientalised Taif rose that dominates the heart of Majalis by Parfums de Rosine and its milky sandalwood drydown.

Majalis just launched and is available through Rosine retailers and online. The bottle is beautiful as you can see, in all its coppery and fuchsia glory.

Notes for Parfums de Rosine Majalis:
Top: Bergamot, Mandarin, Grapefruit, Nutmeg, Cinnamon bark
Heart: Cinnamon leaf, Taif rose, Tea rose, Rose absolute, Jasmine, Black pepper, Pink pepper, Coriander seed
Base: Vetiver, Sandalwood, Cedarwood, Amber, Musk

One carded sample of Majalis is available for one lucky reader. To enter the draw please let us know in the comments if you have a particular spicy cinnamon scent/food/association (pleasant or unpleasant!). Draw is open internationally till Sunday midnight and winner will be announced sometime on Monday.

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

Etat Libre d'Orange Archives 69: fragrance review & draw

The releases by pop-art fragrance phenomenon État Libre d'Orange ever since Like This (fronted by Tilda Swinton) have been lacking, belying the enthusiasm on discovering credible and artful compositions behind rather gimmicky names. Simply put, they are not at all challenging or unique as I've come to expect from the ground-breaking house. Archives 69, named after the address of the brand in Paris (69 rue des Archives) but at the same time deliciously hinting at the racy sexual position through the iconography on the site, doesn't deviate from this disappointing path. It's not that it is not pleasant or wearable (because it certainly is), it is that it is rather contrived given the history: sampling their scents is like blind-foldingly tasting Bertie Bott's Every Flavor Beans.

The ad copy, promising "the illusion of sex", certainly makes for a frenzied anticipation among the perfume buying audience: "[...]when she finds you, you will know the end of innocence. With the song of a siren, she lures you with an indecent charm, an almost malevolent delicacy. She sings to the animal in you. She awakens the sleeping lion, she tames the savage beast. She leads you to wondrous and frightening delights, and you may be surprised by the strength of her seduction. She is masculine/feminine, succubus and incubus, and she can be dangerous, but only to those who willingly resist the confines of safety. You will shudder at the urgency of her will, and tremble at your hungry response". Eh, riiiight.

Upon spraying Archives 69 from État Libre d'Orange there is a smidge of that nauseating, sterile note (supposedly a nitrile) that makes Sécrétions Magnifiques so vile for so many. Allied to a musky note, midway between clean and dirty, it soon dissipates (blink and you'll miss it), paving the way for a much smoother, crowd-pleasing warm, spicy woody cluster of notes with overripe fruity nuances, reminiscent of the accord in Like This; plus warm, fuzzy fur. But not that kind of fur! It's more of a piney incense trail on a furry animal that cozed up by the fire, with spicy accents and the hint of dirt in good patchouli. There is a sweetness to its animalic fuzziness, a little bit salty sweet from one angle, more creamy sweet from another. But it never deviates from its mould of oriental spicy.

The composition overall is much too tame to conjure images of depravity and Baudelairian debauchery, but that does not mean that lovers (men or women) of snuggly, warm, skin scents won't like it. On the contrary.
To capture the full effect it's best to spray, since dabbing is akin to putting on sourdine on it; in that regard I agree with what Gaia of the Non Blonde points out. Still, in anycase and any way of wearing it, it's a low-hum fragrance that needs the proximity of intimacy to be best detected, much like other woody muskies such as Gaiac 10 by Le Labo or Escentric 01 (Escentric Molecules).

Notes for Etat Libre d'Orange Archives 69:
Mandarin, pink pepper CO2, pimento leaf, orchid Jungle Essence®and prune Jungle Essence®, incense, camphor, benjoin, patchouli, musk.

A sample out of my personal stash is available for a lucky reader. Please respond to this question to be eligible: Do you equate spicy, woody, snuggly scents with the autumn & holiday season or are you panseasonal? (And do you have a favourite among them?)

Archives 69 by État Libre d'Orange is available in 50ml and 100ml Eau de Parfum. The 100ml bottle is a limited edition in a collectible box. Archives 69 can be purchased from Escentual.com in UK and Henri Bendels and Luckyscent in the USA.

Still from the film Last Tango in Paris, photo of presentation from Elements Showcase NYC exhibition

Le Labo AnOther 13 & Baie Rose 26: fragrance reviews & draw

Never were two fragrances by the same niche line been so contrarily contrasted: Where I expected the pedestrian I got a brilliant surprise and where all signs were siren-calling (the rare, the uber-exclusive!) I was crest-fallen. I'm referring of course to Baie Rose 26 and AnOther 13 by Le Labo, this autumn's newest releases by the hip niche line who provoke, as much as put things up for an interesting discussion on the boundaries of art and marketing.

Baie Rose 26 comes as a welcome surprise in a market inundated with the plethora of pink peppercorns (i.e.baies rose) peeking from ultra-fruity compositions with the requisite patchouli base that makes for modern "young" juice (what's accusingly called a "fruitchouli" ). The initially piquant top note of pink pepper sets the scene for a very diffusive fragrance, which radiates from both blotter and skin, slowly revealing a generous rose heart; like roses half-hidden in an aluminum chest under bullet-proof glass in an Ian Fleming novel.
Perfumer FrankVoelkl, who composed both Musc 25 and Iris 39 previously for Le Labo, tackled pink peppercorns (which naturally have rosy facets) and made them woody-musky with a prolonged drydown full of Ambrox reminiscent of the finish of Mille et Une Roses by Lancôme and Stella by Stella McCartney. There is even a deliciously weird, but oddly very becoming, "vomit note" that reminds me of Karo Karounde, an exotic essence which is used in Pleasures by Lauder. If that makes you queasy, fear not: it's only an impression and a little bit of jarrigness makes for an artistic outcome.
Although Rose 31 is already a best-selling fragrance in the Le Labo portfolio (a spicy cumin-rich rose note which makes for a rose "sweating" from the inside), the perfume enthusiast could find merit to include Baie Rose 26 in their collection all the same. I admit I'm sorely temped!

Baie Rose 26 notes:
Ambrox, Clove, Pepper, Rose, Baie Rose, Musk, Ambrette, Cedar, Aldehyde

Baie Rose 26 by Le Labo is available only in Chicago (it's a "city-exclusive", following Le Labo's annoying but business-savvy ~apparently~ technique of saving some frags for specific cities around the world).

AnOther 13 is the definition of a limited edition: only 500 units are produced globally, in partnership with so-hip-it-hurts AnOther mag in London. This project was born thanks to Sarah of Colette boutique in Paris who initiated the creative collaboration between the Le Labo founders and Jefferson Hack, editor in chief of AnOther Magazine. Jefferson Hack is a renowned British journalist and magazine editor who co-founded Dazed & Confused in the early 90’s and who launched AnOther Magazine in 2001. Perfumer Nathalie Lorson (praised on our pages for her Poivre 23) was called to blend a "dirty musk which your nose will want to go back to the skin that wears it more than you want to". Errr, no, actually; if you put this on skin, you run the risk of having your arm fall off!

Let me explain myself after this provocative statment: AnOther 13 is a monochromatic take on Ambrox and musks (three major musky aromachemicals, Muscenone delta, Ambrettolide and Helvetolide; more on different synthetic musks here) which murmurs disparaging bon mots with vicious intent and which unfortunately has the half-life of plutonium, i.e. you will be scrubbing and scrubbing if you happen not to appreciate that sort of thing.
Ambrox has certainly been toned & honed through several popular fragrances in the last decade (see our article on Ambrox here), but 2010 has seen it being writ large on the marquise, as the prominent star, which is a new twist. Contrary to Juliette has a Gun Not a Perfume, though, AnOther 13 is not solely based on Ambrox but is rather a composite of strong mostly woody notes which project with the force of steel. Helvetolide, a synthetic musk with fruity aspects (apple and pear-like) contributes a note which can be identified as "wet dog", Delta muscenone is reminiscent of real ambrette seed (and could stand for that) while Ambrettolide is strongly musky with a warmer feel. Yet the Le Labo fragrance isn't a "musk" in the traditional sense, nor is it nauseating in the aquatic and eerie mould of Sécretions Magnifiques: The piercing woody-ambery metallic note has something of the tormented Erica Kohut as she stabs herself aimlessly (and certainly non lethally) in lonely despair. A disturbing fragrance, to be sure!

Le Labo AnOther 13 notes:
Ambrox, Salycilate, Muscenone delta, Helvetolide, Ambretteolide, Cetalox

AnOther 13 is available in numbered bottles at Le Labo boutiques and at collaborating partners around the world: Liberty in London, Isetan in Tokyo, Barneys in the US, and Colette in Paris. It comes in one size (100 ml/3.4oz) and is sold at regular Le Labo 100 ml prices (i.e.200$) .

For our readers, a draw!Draw is now closed, thanks for the participation! Create the next frag concept for Le Labo in the comments & enter to win a sample of both exclusive fragrances!

Disclosure: For these reviews, I both paid out of my own pocket for decants for reviewing purposes through splits and was sent (a little later) samples in the mail by the company itself. Funny timing, but a great opportunity to be generous with our readers.
Asia Argento in a provocative photo shoot uploaded by girlsgirlsgirls on Photobucket. Another 13 photo found on Basenotes.