Showing posts with label powdery. Show all posts
Showing posts with label powdery. Show all posts

Tuesday, May 3, 2011

Creed Vanisia: fragrance review

Vanisia by Creed does not smell like pure unadulterated vanilla as the name would lead you to believe, thank heavens. It reminds me more of a lighter Égoïste by Chanel if that one put the sandalwood into the boudoir and puffed it and puffed it with lots of ambery rose-jasmine powder that gives a golden shimmer over mounty breasts. T

The resinous depths of its core, a complex and satisfyingly rich amber accord, recall the play between light and darkness in the paintings of the Spanish masters; dramatic expanses of vivid motion, shadowy corners that hide small details with significance that doesn't pass unnoticed. The double whammy of a misleading name and the wrong company (few houses are more derisive!) just conspired it to make it a very under the radar fragrance. Which is exactly why I decided to get the scalpel and start surgery on this page.

The "barbershop" effect makes its presence known in Vanisia via a faint lavender note (a classic combination, best appreciated in Pour Un Homme by Caron which is almost solely lavender and vanilla) as well as what smells like cedar, which makes it wearable for men as well.
Women will naturally gravitate to it for its sexy factor, best appreciated in the depths of the base notes, although I need to stress that you need to be a lover of ambers to appreciate it. It's quite powdery in a mature, retro way, with hints of soap as well, an oxymoron amidst the sultry tonalities that remind classic references with more than a hint of ambery"skank" such as Bal a Versailles and Tabu. Lovers of Guerlain Samsara might also find a complex beast to like and claim as their own. But they should be warned that it smells unashamedly mature, probably best reserved for those who already have other youth-ammunition under their belt; this is not a "spritz me with grapefruit and let me fool you into believing I'm 7 years younger" gimmicky. It's said by Creed that Cher likes this one and wears it: figures...

I am personally a little bit at odds with Vanisia: On the one hand I like the tempered amber character that doesn't imbue everything with a sticky candy floss note and includes that familiar ambergris Creed base. On the other hand I find there is some incongruence between the after-shave accord on top and the floral oriental core. Lately I have been unlucky into coming across bottles that seemed to be a little off, metallic and more "masculine" than I recall the scent to be. I am not sure if we're facing a reformulation or not (the tester bottles didn't look pristine brand new) or if there is fake stock circulating, which is surely the case for other Creeds. It would be interesting to hear from you in the comments if you have other experiences with that matter.

Vanisia was launched in 1987, supposedly for a Spanish queen, and is mostly unknown/unacknowledged till this day, although one of their more rounded fragrances.

Notes for Creed Vanisia:
Top: bergamot
Heart: jasmine and Bulgarian rose
Base: sandalwood, amber and vanilla

Painting The Parasol by Francisco de Goya.

Wednesday, July 28, 2010

Defining Powdery and Dry in Fragrances

"Perfume is subjective", I hear all the time. What's heavy to one is light to another, what is pleasantly sweet to certain individuals can be overly sweet. Probably because we haven't really agreed on which terms to apply so that we have a codified language to describe scents. True, we use "fragrance families" taxonomy to distinguish them (floral, woody, chypre, aldehydic, leather etc.) and sometimes we borrow from taste (sweet, bitter, savoury/salty, sour) but what happens with more esoteric terms, like "powdery" scents or "dry" ones?

Google search "powdery dry perfume" and you will see in the top five results the mention of Guerlain's Chamade. Now, Chamade isn't particularly "dry" nor is it particularly "powdery" except in the end. I mean, sure, one could detect these nuances to some degree, but my mind would gush forth hundreds of other suggestions for fragrances before mentioning Chamade. Unless we're thinking of the slang term "dry powder" for cash reserves for an unforeseen difficulty, in which case, yes, Chamade is a great asset in the war against industry mediocrity. But I digress.
So let's break down the terms, starting with "dry" since it's the more inclusive one.

"Dry" is a term that can denote two things in English: the opposite of sweet (as in wines) and the opposite of humid (Just like "light" can mean the opposite of both heavy and dark). In the latter sense, it's easier to grasp the context: Dry fragrances don't have dewy, watery, acqueous elements that recall crisp vegetation, any expanse of water or dew drops on petals. They can be mineral-like and they keep you dry as a result. Think of woody scents full of cedar, sandalwood, oak, rosewood, birch... Like the trunks of trees and their barks, they have a solid "appearence" to the nose. Think of smoke and some kinds of incense.

The opposite of non-sweet when refering to "dry" fragrances is a little more elaborate to explain. Think of a fine dry wine which has a minimal residual of sugars. Taste a fine white Reisling and compare with a full-bodied Sherry. And later on, within those categories, try to detect the degrees of dryness or sweetness between a Fino and an Oloroso Seco. Tannic notes give a taste of dryness which bites the tongue (in a non-spicy way).
Same goes for fragrances: In his couture shop at 7, rue Saint-Florentin, couturier Jean Patou had the brilliant idea of creating a cocktail bar where men could drink and small-talk while their women shopped for their dresses. In 1930, Patou decided that this could be converted into a veritable perfume bar and Henri Alméas, his perfumer, was instructed to create "cocktail" fragrances: The results were the original Cocktail, Cocktail Dry, Cocktail Sweet, and Cocktail Bitter Sweet. Clear enough?
It's not accidental that most masculine fragrances aim at "dry"; it denotes a certain butch element! Dry notes in fragrances are usually provided by woods or some grasses (for instance vetiver), by rhizomes (orris/iris), by phenols (tar-like essences such as birch tar, guiacwood, leathery compounds), by mosses (oakmoss, treemoss). There is no restriction as to which family they might belong to, though: Try the oriental Tiempe Passate by Antonia's Flower, the chypre Aromatics Elixir by Clinique, the woody floral Ivoire by Balmain, Chanel's green floral No.19, the aldehydic Pure White Linen by Lauder, the mineral cologne Eau de Gentiane Blanche: They're all non sweet, non humid, they will keep you dry on a warm summer's day.

And powdery, you ask? What does it signify when talking about fine fragrance? "Powdery" can be a subcategory of "dry", as powder by its very nature abhors moisture. Yet powdery can take sweeter nuances or drier ones, according to manipulation by a talented perfumer. It also hints at a feminine rather than a traditionally masculine smell, evoking as it does a million "cute" acoutrements: feather boas, white kitten fur, cosmetic enhancements and 18th century peruques, pastry making involving flour, and fluffy angora sweaters in pastel colours. Usually the categorisation is between "face powder" or "talcum powder" (also described as "baby-powder"). Face powder notes are more refined in feel and overall less sweet with a vintage, "perfume-y" trail, while talcum powder is simpler, usually involving a comforting, vanillic backdrop that recalls the famous lemon--lavender-vanilla accord of Johnson's Baby Powder. The no doubt amusing dichotomy of powder evoking both grandmothers (through the association with the scents they carried on from their youth) and babies is probably fodder for a psychology thesis on how smell perception is the most perverse within the human brain function. For the scope of our column, let's give some examples to clarify our point.
Face-powder-smelling fragrances include Hermès 24 Faubourg, Ombre Rose by Jean-Charles Brosseau, No.19 by Chanel, Patou's discontinued Normandie, Creed Fleurs de Bulgarie, Jolie Madame by Balmain, Coriandre by Jean Couturier and Ma Griffe by Carven. Talcum or baby-powdery fragrances have an artistically acclaimed representative in Petits et Mamans by Bulgari, a cuddly powdery scent which truly charms. Cashmere Mist by Donna Karan and Flower by Kenzo are the rather grown-up version, aromatized with a little jasmine for the former and a clearly detectable synth violet for the latter. Try Teint de Neige by Lorenzo Villoressi: choke-full of powder! Surely a firm favourite of power loving folks!
US brand Philosophy was fully cognisant, when they composed Baby Grace, that Americans have fond memories of having their baby bottoms talcumed with Johnson's. And there's of course Baby Powder by Demeter for nostalgisers on a budget; or those who want it clearly spelled on the label...

We had talked about ambery fragrances which often evoke a powdery effect the other day, some of the ingredients involved into giving such an ambience being amber mixtures, opoponax gum (such as in the case of Shalimar), heliotropin, vanilla and several musks (try Habanita by Molinard, Must de Cartier in pure parfum, Kenzo Amour or Obsession by Calvin Klein to see this. And see how white musks can be powdery soft in Clair de Musc by Lutens).
But powderiness can be also rendered through orris/iris (Iris Poudre even says so in the name), certain aldehydes (read more on which on this article), Iso-E Super when combined with certain musks and most importantly mosses (like in Aromatics Elixir, Ma Griffe, Chanel No.19, Knowing by Lauder, Coriandre, and Piguet's Bandit).

Moss contributing to the effect is an interesting case of chance discovery. I was puzzling myself for years trying to figure out why moss reminds me of my mother and of face powder. I am not alone, lots of women associate it specifically with vintage poudre de riz face-powders imagining them being slowly, decadently, glamorously fluffed on with ostrich-feather puffs by film noir heroines before they go out to wreck havoc on some poor men's lives. Powders from Cyprus I knew were based on the famous "recipe" of chypre perfumes. Until one day strolling the Max Factor counter I stopped to read the actual ingedients on a couple of compacts, one of them being Creme Puff which both my mother and grandmother used with a wide brush for setting their makeup. Yup, prominently displayed was Evernia prunastri, otherwise known as...oakmoss!

Which are your favourite dry &/or powdery fragrances? 

If you haven't caught on the Perfumery Definitions series till now, please visit:


Still from the film Marie Antoinette by Sofia Coppola, featuring Kirsten Dunst via Hansen Love blog; Jean Patou Cocktail Dry and L.T.Piver powder ads via hprints.

Wednesday, February 25, 2009

Lieu de Reves by Sonoma Scent Studio: fragrance review

Some pieces of music are inherently inducive to daydreaming, relying on this art form's absence of visual stimulus to ignite introspection, and Debussy's Rêverie is especially so. Perfume can also be said to act comparatively, as small nuances prompt reminiscences or reinforce our mood, when we reach for a bottle that has the seemingly mystic power to accomplish just that. Violet scents are often tender, understated beauties which lend themselves to feelings of reverie and sotto voce intimations.
In Lieu de Rêves (Place of Dreams) by Sonoma Scent Studio the composition seems to kickstart such a daydreaming mood, blending the scents of violet petals and fallen leaves, alterating cool roots and warm tonalities, thus evoking a spring-like silvery olfactory veil raised ~the full spectrum of aroma derived from violet, rose and heliotrope, elegantly melding into the anticipation of warmer days of spring.

Laurie Erickson, the independent perfumer behind the Sonoma Scent Studio company, created Lieu de Rêves as a continuation on her study of violets, progressing from Voile de Violette , Wood Violet and the now defunct Violette Encens. The comparison between these four fragrances suggests that Lieu de Rêves is closer to Voile de Violette (Violet Veil), minus the myrrh, rather than her other two scents, which present woodier and more resinous facets. Wood Violet in particular also has a pronounced spicy (a bit like fenugreek)-plummy-cedary character which really veers it off the troden path of standard violet fragrances into Lutensian territory.
In creating Lieu de Rêves Laurie intimates:
"I've had this blend in mind for a long time, wanting to use violet, rose, and heliotrope in a powdery scent with a gourmand touch but with some soft woodsy notes and less vanilla than most scents of this genre. The heliotrope, rose, violet, and cedar make nice companions. Like most rose and violet combinations, this scent feels a bit romantic to me, but the drydown is on the quiet and reflective side rather than being a full-blown floral".

There is some kinship with other violet powdery combinations like the underappreciated -but lovely- Météorites by Guerlain, or the much more strongly vanillic talc-like Teint de Neige by Lorenzo Villoresi. Admirers of Flower by Kenzo and woody Genie des Bois by Keiko Mecheri should also take note, although Lieu de Rêves is much subtler than the former in terms of sillage and projection, remaining polite in its invitation-only disposition. Laurie masterfully restrained the usual sweetness of violets, injecting somber woody touches and a delicate silvery-green transparence in the form of jasminy hedione. The combinations of damascones and ionones to render an amalgamation of rose and violet is akin to a seamless blend of micronised particles on a big pon-pon of face powder the shade of iridiscent orchid-purple, like Cattleya labiata blossoms. The rose takes supportive role behind the violet powderiness and the hazy soft focus ambience of heliotrope (the common garden variety Heliotropium arborescens) which has a fluffy almond-vanillic note like air-spun meringues that is hard to harness as it is inherently sweet and is usually rendered via heliotropin. The coumarin-rich tonka bean is also complimentary to sweet notes, creating a "clean" powder vibe. Yet here the trick seems to consist in upping the somber cedar and grassy-woody note (vetiver) and adding a quite discernible overlay of soft-focus iris coolness (the irones of iris are ionone-like and complimentary to the violet notes). This gives Lieu de Rêves a somewhat wistful, tender beauty of a bygone era that doesn't fall back on oversentimentality nevertheless. Much as it being a floral fragrance, it possesses a well-bred character with some appetite for healthy pleasures that would suit a heroine in a Henry James' novel. It makes me reach for kitten-heels and goose-down puffs and dream about traipsing across Giverny in spring.

Notes for Sonoma Scent Studio Lieu de Rêves:
Heliotrope, violet, rose, jasmine, cedar, amber, vetiver, tonka, orris, vanilla, musk, very soft aldehydes.

The perfume launched in February '09 and is available in 17ml or 34ml bottles, directly from Sonoma Scent Studio.




For our readers Sonoma Scent Studio is organising* a lucky draw of 5 sampler duos of both Lieu de Rêves and Sienna Musk (another one I loved). State your interest in the comments please!

*{Please note some shipping restrictions due to Customs apply as stated on the SSS site}.

Pic Les Reves d'Amelie by BigboyDenis(fc02.deviantart.com). Claude Debussy's Rêverie clip originally uploaded by atrafalgar on Youtube.

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