Diptyque Lunamaris: fragrance review

 Lunamaris by Diptyque, part of the new collection Les Essences, inspired by rare natural materials, managed to capture my attention and eventually my preference within the new line-up. It's a sleeper, that I suspect will please a lot of people if only given a chance to try it out. It grows on you. This fragrance genre has an affinity for prompting introspection and daydreaming, akin to listening to Eric Satie and his collective opus of Gymnopédies and Gnossiennes. Music that eases the mind and set forth a spiritual mood, with restrained sentimentality and low vibration sounds that stir the senses in a non flamboyant way. It's excellent for doing mental work, as its lack of words helps with concentration and -much like baroque music, though in a different way- it aids the mind to put a flow into thoughts. 

                    photo via pinterest

 The intention was transliterating the effect of mother of pearl or nacré into a scent. Perfumer Fabrice Pelegrin worked on the dual nature of mother-of-pearl, iridescent and whiteish, with a combination of resins. Cistus labdanum and frankincense-myrrh are played into the effects of the structure. It gives a fresh, cool ambience backed by subtle warmth which blooms on the skin when the fragrance is finally settling. To transliterate this beauty and dream-like quality into a fragrance it needed materials and chords that echo this subtlety and low-key dazzling of the senses. Perfume lovers can think of some: irises, metallic effects, shimmery incense effects, mineral chords, rose oxides... No innovation then in the composite parts of Lunamaris the fragrance, but excellent execution, something I'm giving more and more attention to. An incense with spicy notes and a fresh feeling, it easily comes through victorious. The poetic name, which unites the notions of the moon (luna) and the sea (maris) creates a tension that almost pre-empts the image of a dark nightime seascape where the silvery path of moonbeams sheds its magic upon the waters. It's dreamy in itself. 

                              photo via pinterest

 The myrrh and labdanum components give Lunamaris a vibrant feel, bittersweet and mysterious and almost abstract. I also detect a certain rosiness, the kind that is vegetal, pure, botanical and not liquer-ish or femininely floral. This is attributed to pink peppercorns, or in French baies roses. Of course Diptyque has cemented a cult favouring of their legendary Baies candle, so it fits effortlessly into their fine fragrances too. Contrary to what most people associate with pepper or peppercorns, baies have a rosy texture, adding flavour and aroma but no real heat to the palate when tasted. Therefore the subtle spiciness and the becoming, rosy aroma contributes to fragrances in a way that cannot be tagged retro under any guise, fully justifying why perfumers have used pink pepper with abandon in the last couple of decades in contemporary compositions. This was exploited in Toy Boy by Moschino too, recently, in order to give a non feminine feel to a fragrance geared towards men. 

 Overall the scent of Lunamaris is dry, completely unisex, devoid of any retro or stereotypically feminine or masculine traits and produces that zen quality we associate with an experience at a temple or a high-end spa retreat. It is clean and definitely minimalist luxury. There is also a musk inside which I suspect is Cashmeran, adhering to the skin in a very nice way, and yet projecting fine to others coming into the radius of its appealing aura. The lasting power is also very good, tenacious over the course of a working day.

Available as Eau de Parfum. 

Parfums Berdoues Arz El Rab: fragrance review

Ginger has a peculiar quality of appearing at the same time fresh and fiery. It's got an energizing zing to it, which is great for giving lift and energy to compositions that would otherwise remain dull and/or maudlin. Its shared facets with citrus make it a wonderful addition to classic eau de cologne compositions, elevating them to a quirky refreshment for summer wear, as exemplified by Origins Ginger Essence. Its classical inclusion in gingerbread gives warmth and comforting nuances in cooler weather fragrances, which recall those evenings spent by the fire nibbling on said cookies. Ginger's allusion to Far Eastern cuisine, where it's also very popular, is another culturally rich pool of pleasurable referents.

My favorite ginger fragrance falls rather far from either of those categories.
Parfums Berdoues Arz el-Rab can't be said to be particularly fresh or cologne-y, nor is it a gourmand ginger scent. Instead it has a gauzy feeling of canopies atop a wooden four-post bed made out of solid, polished wood, a tiny bit dusty. It's comforting, but it's a whole other comfort association. The ginger is allied to a tiny citrusy facet which dissipates almost upon spraying; the energetic blast is vibrant for the first hour or so, with the ginger holding first violin role. What follows possesses the starched quality of a subdued and low-key scent of woods and fluffy iris, with no metallic contraptions. It's as if one is actually invited to rest their wary body atop that four-post bed surrounded by pencil shavings. I happen to like pencil shavings (the classic Virginia cedar wood smell) and this bodes well for me personally. Pencil shavings recall academic pursuits and ginger provides that needed energy boost that academic pursuits would need, so it's a good mental match.

 More masculine or unisex, at the very least, rather than traditionally feminine, at least as defined by the presence of florals or sweetness in the current vernacular, Arz el-rab is perfect for all those situations where you want a tiny jolt of energy without appearing too invasive or self-conscious, and can be worn summer or winter without much wavering to its medium projection.