Fendi Theorema: fragrance review

Now that perfumer Christine Nagel is at the helm of Hermès, looking back on her work for various brands reveals her core aesthetics; at once saturated and filled with light, like a Joseph M.W. Turner painting that foreshadows what's to come, namely Impressionism. Judging by her newest Eau de Rhubarbe Ecarlate and Galop, this heftiness-shot-with-brightness continues the sun path to its natural apex.

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With Fendi's Theorema, Italian for theorem, a proposition that has been proven to be true based on previously established statements, Nagel has taken a theme and brought it into its culmination. Namely the "Oriental perfume" that feels as comforting as nibbling chocolate by the fire, while at the same time retaining the plush luxury and sophistication that a proper womanly perfume fit for the salon should exude.

Fendi's Theorema, inexplicably discontinued much too soon (at least before the brand discontinued its entire line in order to bring out the newest project on the shelves) and at least as clamored for a resurrection as Laura Biagotti's Venezia, opens with the delectable alliance of orange and chocolate. The effect of the former is apparently accounted by two unusual citruses: tangelos and thai samuti. The chocolate is folded with sweet spices, amber and warm milky woods, such as sandalwood and rosewood; there's none of the austerity that woody notes usually provide. A touch of a classic, orientalized bouquet of flowers (orange blossom, ylang ylang, jasmine) gives just a tinge of ladylike proclivities. But Theorema is too good to stay on the ladies alone...and is extremely ripe for a resurrection as well.

Frapin Caravelle Epicee: fragrance review

The road from Kerala has been finally constructed and the cargo all the way from its verdant backwaters is getting delivered to the ship traveling from the bays of the Indian ocean to Southampton. It carries on it a small quota of the spices of the East, in wooden chests decorated with the coat of arms of the port commander for his personal use. Amongst them nutmeg is the crowning glory, the seed of the Myristica tree, cool and tingling at the same time, redolent of that curious contradiction of serenity and languor that is the east to a westerner's mind.

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All the splendour of the spice-laden ships has been translated into Caravelle Épicée by Frapin, a fragrance intended for armchair pirates contemplating looting one of them and sailing off to the Seychelles to enjoy the fruits of this escapade. And behold, what do I see in my pocket telescope? Here is a band of them storming the agile vessel with their sabres in hand!

They're inhaling the spicy notes escaping the small hold, caraway and coriander with their cool piquancy, a counterpoint to the hotness and dryness of black pepper, a potent mix never ceding to sweetness. They're already intoxicated with the good-smelling treasure they captured. Maybe too intoxicated to get through the risky voyage to the islands. I can see it even from here. The captain lies in ambush, his particular type of pipe tobacco lingering on the vessel long after he hid. There's hope for the ship yet!

Serge Lutens Fumerie Turque: fragrance review

Fumerie Turque (Turkish smoking salon) is one of the most majestic scents amidst the Serge Lutens impressive line-up of orientalise compositions that draw upon the vast tradition of the Middle East and its specific languor of the senses. It evokes the honeyed, rich tobacco blends which the Seljuk sultans reserved for their seraglios overlooking the Bosporus, the narguilé blends warming up with milky, rosy substances added to prolong the languorous enjoyment, the hour of contemplation.

Lutens and his perfumer, Chris Sheldrake, created an autumnal oriental for sensualists, men and women who appreciate the tender, soft embrace of a leather-lined guest salon, where the smell of sumptuous balsams, rich tobacco, dried fruits and honeyed rose loukhoums waft from across the canopied beds of the harem.

Its scent never fails to make me yearn for inchoate habits I never indulged, traditions which call upon a far heritage passed on by generations, and of lands which are never as far as away as imagined, but instead lie within a day's reach. Fumerie Turque is my personal piercingly erotic dare to the deceptively familiar.

Annick Goutal Myrrhe Ardente: fragrance review

Amidst perfumes with dominant myrrh Myrrhe Ardente makes for sharp contrast. Indeed Myrrhe Ardente (perfervid myrrh) by Annick Goutal had a totally different approach than either Serge Lutens La Myrrhe or Keiko Mecheri Myrrhe et Merveilles. There was no attempt of dressing an apocryphal smell into classic tailoring to render it wearable by a modern sensibility.

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On the contrary, the element of myrrh was taken as a significant nod to the sweeping genre of Orientalism that marked the late 19th century and which almost singlehandedly - if we count Guerlain and Houbigant as those influenced by it -  gave us modern perfumery.

Camille Goutal then and her perfumer Isabelle Doyen began with a beautiful thesis proposition in 2007: how would oriental bath rituals of the harems (as seen in paintings by Ingres and the rest of the masters of the times) translate into scents? The sensuous Les Orientalistes line was born; initially a line of three fragrances for women or men which included Ambre Fetiche, Myrrhe Ardente and Encens Flamboyant. By the next year, another addition to the line increased the number by one: Musc Nomade; a vegetal musk which I count among my most favorites, built on ambrette seed.
They're all sensual fumes, molding themselves into the idea we have of the Orient and it seems to me (only a casual observation which might be proven wrong) that people seem to prefer either the opulent Ambre or the densely smoky Encens out of the quartet. My own preference lies to the outsiders.

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The Goutal fragrance implores us to look upon myrrh with eyes sooted with the blackest black of the lamp which burns lighting up the harem and to adorn our body with oils which speak of a thousand caravans carrying mysterious cargo across the Middle East. It makes me think of Loti; not Plato. The sweet facets brought out by the addition of benzoin and beeswax bring out a sticky "cola" note which is not at all at odds with the natural shade of the essential oil of myrrh. The gentle smokiness rendered by the earthy woody notes of vetiver is a welcome reminder that we're dealing with something that harkens back to the roots of perfumery; "through smoke".

Keiko Mecheri Myrrhe et Merveilles: fragrance review

When it comes to Keiko Mecheri's Myrrhe et Merveilles the thrill of the unexpected in meeting myrrh in a modern formula is fractured into a thousand pieces. La Myrrhe by Serge Lutens just had it for lunch. For a long time I felt that the Mecheri line followed the Lutensian opus a bit too closely for comfort; it felt like glorified duping and if one is going that way why not admit it... I thought. But thankfully testing and retesting for the purposes of really getting an education on myrrh, I saw the error of my ways and finally came to appreciate this Mecheri fragrance for what it is: a luxurious and somewhat aloof soapy myrrh; one which showcases the element quite well without the mushroom earthiness of La Myrrhe.

by Taras Loboda, Ukrainian painter, 1961 via

If you squeeze your eyes a bit and look at it that way, Myrrhe et Merveilles might start giving you impressions of classic YSL Opium. It's only a slice of its hot iron hiss on a white starched shirt but it's plenty. The floral heart is rather spicy like carnations and almond blossoms smothered in musk. The musk is so prominent that the compoisition feels silken. Powdery almost. The "merveilles" (i.e. wonders) manifest themselves through the details, but they're enough to differentiate it from its mystical predecessor.

If your track record in orientals is good so far Myrrhe et Merveilles can only enhance it. 

Serge Lutens La Myrrhe: fragrance review

Frankincense is met at the church as the censer spreads the fragrant smoke in the congregation. Myrrh is met at asketaria; monastic places of anchorites who end up their days exuding the smell of sanctity...or so witnesses say. In the iconoclastic La Myrrhe by Serge Lutens myrrh takes center stage given a centripental force spin which makes you lean your neck all the way up to there to just observe the gracious arc before it plunges into bittersweet soap¨aldehydes play their part with bravado. The overlaying accents of mandarin and honeyed notes melt's La Myrrhe's bitter resinous heart into the illusion of prettiness. When in fact it's a compellingly strange study in contrasts.

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The word "demon" (δαίμων) means spirit or divine power replete with knowledge in classical Greek mythology; at least up to the Neo-Platonics. Hence Socrates's famous claim of "being true to his inner demonium" and Diotema's lesson to him in Plato's Symposium that "love is a greater demon". Is myrrh therefore a demon? An entity between material (mortal) and spirit (divine knowledge)?

Myrrh is indeed someplace between the two; its very nature bears this duality. On the one side a numbing of the senses; a narcotic hedone that lulls the pain. On the other a scourging bitterness that reminds us of the pain of life. Two isomers that share the same structure arranged in different ways; two faces of Janus.

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Lutens and his perfumer sidekick Christopher Sheldrake were therefore the first to showcase the Janus-like nature of myrrh for all its worth in their epoch making creation. Experiencing La Myrrhe takes multiple uses to savor the bittersweet elements and the waxy-aldehydic shimmer that glistens upon skin application. I very much doubt I was fully aware of the complexity and irony built into it when zooming on the reddish liquid and paying for it that momentous time back. It must have been pure instinct or the patron saint of perfumery St. Magdalene who guided my young hand; it was my very first "bell jar" out of the purple seraglio in the Palais Royal and it marked me with its duality ever since.

L'Artisan Parfumeur Saffran Troublant: fragrance review

Although saffron and roses are a favorite combination in many a niche fragrance offering these days, back in 2002, when Safran Troublant actually launched, it was unusual and arresting. Typically with L'Artisan Parfumeur, the road was laid for other travelers to travel through; paths well trodden and less explored alike, but the French brand founded by perfumer Jean Laporte in the late 1970s was a pioneer.

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Safran Troublant, if not marking high on the novelty value impressions score nowadays, still is an arresting scent, if only because it manages to balance the precarious precipice of clandestine smolder and comforting warmth. Roses are not especially simpatico for various reasons, but when given the sheath of a pitch-black collaborator, such as leather, or patchouli, or aoudh or -indeed- saffron, I stand on attention and pay my respects.

There's something about Safran Troublant, at once mouthwatering and "troubling" as its moniker in French denotes. The lactonic creaminess it projects recalls eating rosewater puddings with vanilla, someplace East. The suede-like saffron spice is enhanced by the depths of an irresistibly cozy, musky embrace that draws you in closer. Oddly enough it creates desire to the same degree that it quenches it; a discreet fragrance you might take for granted, like one's mainstay in the wardrobe, but leaving you with the renewed sensation of always looking at it with eyes afresh.

Lolita Lempicka eau de parfum by Lolita Lempicka: fragrance review

The playing field of fairy tale and dangerous complicity has brought us the poisoned apple. THE emblematic symbol of sexual provocation, thanks to Eve and the serpent, literally or metaphorically poisoned-laced apples have featured in a cohort of fairy tales to suggest a provocation leading to knowing one in the biblical sense; just not spelled out for kids' sake, you know.

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Apple shaped bottles in perfumery are many, from Nina Ricci's 1952 fittingly named Fille d'Eve to Joop's All About Eve. The most recognizable ones are the Poison fragrances issued by Dior, the original cunningly colored to look like a cursed object. Hypnotic Poison amongst the line-up purposefully recalls the tale of Snow White, with its demonically bittersweet almond in the top note, which suggests something dubiously edible; would he bite or would he not?

It is the irony of the gods of perfumery that Annick Menardo is the driving force behind not only this bittersweet Angelica's Ring of a scent, but also of the second most popular fragrance in an apple-shaped bottle. Lolita Lempicka original eau de parfum was the first Angel-spawn to deviate from the Parisian amusement fair of chocolate-patchouli and cotton candy froth into an arpeggio that played pipes in the far away forest.

Beckoning you ever closer into the danger zone, with its violet heart candied with licorice, and shaded by intricate coils of climbing ivy which threatened to imprison you. It smells medicinal and weird. But also oddly appealing!

Not coincidentally, the apple has been a reference for Menardo herself who has confessed being introduced to perfumes via another, contrastingly innocent and tame fragrance by Max Factor. She puts a hint in her work here and there. In Lolita Lempicka EDP she overdosed the licorice with its anise-like tonalities to hide the juiciness of the apple in order to render a perversely mischievous nymph that entices you...just like Eve. It plays the little girl, but she's corrupted by the knowledge of the biblical sense. As marauders lie in ambush for a victim, so do bands of perfumers apparently.

YeYe Parfums Sentiers de Cometes: fragrance review

"As cruel as the typical degenerate Derby winner", the lithe, tall redhead is standing in the centre of the room with her Edwardian silk drapped dress and her fairly modern views, which she airs freely, to wreck havoc with whom she targets.

courtesy of the BBC

Her venomous lines are nevertheless obliterated by her stunning physique and as she dangles her cigarette-holder with the bored air of a person whose existence is oblivious to the Great War around her, you catch yourself having your eyes hooked by  the corners of her full rosy lips in anticipation of her passing her tongue over them to draw a wet line that glistens from across the room. That's Sylvia "pulling the bath strings" and she masters the game.

courtesy of the BBC

Sentiers de Cometes by parfums YeYe is suffusing this scenery and this heroine with its emancipated vampish touch to a T. Its bright opening of vivid citrus followed by the more complicated silkiness of floral essences caressed by tonka beans is a glimpse into an orientalised salon, the kind we don't see anymore unless it belongs to a sinophile.
Not dangerous unless manipulated to be, nor innocent to be sure, Sentiers de Cometes is a fragrance that makes one yearn for the days when you could put a jewelled band on your forehead and some marabou feathers on your shoulder and descend to dinner. I miss that kind of glamour even if I never lived through it. 

The YeYe Parfums brand was founded in 2007, initially focusing on Home Fragrances: Diffusers and Candles and has acquired a loyal following since. The brand's first personal fragrances were introduced in 2015 a trio of artisanal scents. Ryan York, Creative Director & Co-Founder and Ernesto Sanchez Bujanda, In-House Perfumer & Co-Founder are behind the brand.The simple but beautiful bottles featured a wooden cap and a tasselled label.

Love Chloe by Chloe: fragrance review

 It seems unbelievable that Love Chloe has been in the market for 6 years already. Then again, after spawning a handful of flankers and some imitators of its soft, downy soft violet powder it has been time to rest awhile, so the brand is discontinuing it. In many ways I am picking it today in an effort to see just how many would love seeing it in continuous production.

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Chloe had revamped its brand once already after all, eschewing the old classic Chloe by Chloe with its Damien-Hirst-like calla lily stem sprouting from the bottle, in an effort to appeal to younger generations. Going for perversely clean, squirming almost, seemed to resonate with a generation accustomed to the showering twice daily ritual and using baby wipes for every dirt eventuality (great invention by the way).

I'm not in love with Chloe fragrances overall, possibly because of these very reasons, but Love Chloe stands apart thanks to its subtle erotic appeal beneath the seemingly prim overlay, perfect for summer too. There's a starchy rice-powderiness flanked by violet notes and heaps of billowy musk, which instantly recalls something retro; true enough the advertising campaigns bring back the glamorized late 1970s heroines that we normally associate with Lauren Hutton. Glamorous with a mane of gold tresses flowing over a satin silk shirt in ivory, yet able to climb a tree at the same time as well. A pity that the fragrance that reflects that very quality didn't seem to enjoy her enduring success...

Transitioning Hermes fragrance from hot to cool weather: From Eau de Merveilles to Elixir and L'Ambre

The prevailing advantage of the concept for Eau de Merveilles by Hermes was presenting a fragrance marketed to women that did not emit a single floral note. True, it did include a violet ionone effect which veers into the woody spectrum, but the general impression of the scent was an orange ade-sprinkled, woody-amber, salty skin-scent. The execution was so successful that it begat its own series of flanker fragrances, among which two at least present their individual accomplishments with the excellence expected out of the master stroke of perfumer genius; so good are they, that they could be appreciated without prior knowledge of their ancestor.

Elixir de Merveilles came out in 2006 and possesses that odd twist: the woody structure is given a steeping into sweeter materials, yet the resulting effect isn't really sweet at all. The chypre-reminiscent earthy note of patchouli gives a grounding to the orange ode of the original; in fact it coerces it into recalling more of the rind of the fruit than the juice. The rind is by its very nature resinous, thus colliding with the other resinous materials in the background, providing that much needed liaison. But because orange rind is lightly bitterish and refreshing, akin to the scent of fresh sweat, Elixir de Merveilles becomes perfect for summer when one's body is slick with sweat, mingling with the humidity of the environment the over-ripeness and the loaded pong of the vegetal matter, but retaining its lived-in chic. And for reasons of having exactly that earthy, bookish quality about it, it's perfect for transitioning into fall seamlessly.

L'Ambre de Merveilles (2012) on the other hand presents a transparently warm halo on its wearer, which puts the golden light of a late autumnal day over tender skin, much like Faure's Sicilienne does for the mood of a melancholy Sunday afternoon when the hands of the clock seem stuck in molasses...The patchouli subsists, attenuated, tipsy with balsamic caramel sweetness. The traditional labdanum that provides the backbone of the "amber" chord gives L'Ambre a subtly animalistic touch, the feral eyebrows contrasting with the square-jawed heavy-set face of a rather carnal beauty. It's what one dreams of when the galloping of an imaginary carriage is drawing further away and feeling the eerie sensation of just what it takes "to win friends and influence people." The combined sense of ease and unease. Priceless really.


Related reading on PerfumeShrine: 
L'Ambre des Merveilles by Hermes perfume review
Frequent Questions: The various Hermes Merveilles flankers & limited editions
Hermes perfume reviews & news

The Body Shop Indian Night Jasmine: fragrance review

"Another world is not only possible, she is on her way. On a quiet day, I can hear her breathing." This quote by Indian author Arundhati Roy is one of my favorite ones, shedding light where despair has cast its long, oppressing shadow. Scent also works the same way, transforming the mundane or the forsaken into sparkle and comfort. And when that comes with no requests of owning heaps of cash the size of the Koh-i-Noor jewel from Andhra Padesh, rejoice for all involved! One such case is Indian Night Jasmine by The Body Shop, possibly the nicest fragrance in the company's current rotation.

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Jasmine by its very nature is a precious essence to harvest; the delicate flowers need not see the heat of the day, as they emit their strongest scent during the cloistered shadows of the night. They get picked by hand, they wilt and brown easily, emitting their narcotic scent while they die... literally dying in scent. Modern technology has managed to isolate and replicate the sweetest and freshest elements of this natural wonder and to create fragrances that come at a competitive price point.

Indian Night Jasmine by The Body Shop manages to smell smooth, lush and orientalized, befitting the imagery of wild shrubberies growing out of control somewhere in India, the "moonshine in the garden". The air is dewy, warm and heavy with the promise of romance. Eyes kohl-sooted, glimmer under the canopy of fringed lashes; skin sleek with anticipatory sweat. This could be the night.

Serge Lutens A La Nuit: fragrance review and musings

Dedicated to the night and voluptuous, feminine women everywhere, A la Nuit by Serge Lutens is probably the most life-like rendition of night-blooming jasmine in all of perfumery. The narcotic, star-petalled flower hypnotizes all who come into contact with it on a warm summer's evening, when the air is filled with promise of romance and sensual abandon. Heady, sweet, laced with honeyed and resinous notes that weave their own web of seduction, A la Nuit employs several different varieties of jasmine: Moroccan, Egyptian and Indian. Surrendering yourself to its temptation is akin to reaching erotic zenith...

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Jasmine is plentiful in southern Europe and northern Africa from where Lutens was inspired; lush, narcotic, dense with clotted cream at night-time, making the heart ache with its sweetness, fresh and bubble-gum worthy with green dewiness in the mornings. But while we, perfume lovers, like to mock and taunt each other about the fecal reminiscent particulars in it, specifically the combination of moth-balls indole and peachy-creamy lactones, plus many other wonderful and weird chemical additions that talk to our sensitive human hormones, hearing it being invoked by your beloved in an intimate setting can turn into unsettling quickly. How stimulating is the invocation of #2 in the bedroom? Not particularly for most, I'd wager. Let this be a lesson to test this glorious specimen of true jasmine first, before plunging headlong into it.

Created in 2000. Fragrance Family: Floral Oriental 
Perfumer: Chris Sheldrake 
Fragrance Notes A La Nuit by Serge Lutens: jasmine, grenadine, beeswax, musk and benzoin. 

Berdoues Cologne Grand Cru Assam of India: fragrance review

If travel-inspired fragrances usually hint at the region via their name mainly, then Assam of India corresponds to...India, naturally. As one might surmise it's an evocation of black Assam tea, typical to India, in this case aromatized by a tantalizingly mouthwatering citrus top note that evokes the bergamot addition of Earl Grey tea. Being a firm devotee of this very aromatic blend, the lacing of the southern Europe citrus fruit a welcome addition to the peaty scent of classic black tea, Assam of India by Berdoues didn't have to fight an arduous fight to earn a place of pride on the vanity table.

The perfumer set out in search of these black Assam tea leaves grown at a very low altitude – sea level – that reveal an exceptional character that mirrors India. It is the result of the unique blend of citron from Menton, tea from India and sandalwood from Mysore. The citron from Menton is characterised by very fruitful branches that bear up to twice as many lemons as other varieties. Its half-acid, bitterless flavour gives its essence intense aromas.

Berdoues Assam of India is exactly the sort of thing to pick up on a hot and sweltering day, spraying from head to toe to revel in the tannic and citric notes that cut through the humidity like a scimitar. Beautiful, extremely cute bottle too!

Thierry Mugler Innocent: fragrance review

Mugler's Innocent seems in retrospect to be the perfect alternative for people who like gourmand fragrances, love sugared almonds, love fluffy compositions with a tang of sour-sweet fruit on top, but do not appreciate a masculinity factor, in this case the prominent androgynous quality of the intense patchouli of the original Angel. 

Don't get me wrong; I love Angel for all those reasons and have come to appreciate how a teensy-tiny bit of application from afar (or, better yet, using the gorgeous body products) can enhance my neuron pleasure responses. But Innocent is just easier to wear every day, easier to wear during the warmer weather, and, still with a light hand application, easier to feel less conspicuous wearing it.

The scent itself is a succulent mix of Jordan almonds, egg-whites meringues and praline, floating around an intensely sweet & tart note of blackcurrant, like blackcurrant jam but without the stickiness. Instead the feeling is one of copious amounts of musk underpinning the composition into a cloud-like, duvet feel of goose feathers falling softly on nude skin. 

It's a sensual perfume, no doubt because its original skeleton is one that puts lots of flesh over the handsome bones, but it's a benevolent sensual and with the eerie melancholy of a beautiful anime boy with blue eyes and dark hair...

More musings on Fragrantica.

Berdoues Cologne Grand Cru Selva do Brazil: fragrance review

You emptied the soapy suds onto the polished wooden floorboards by accident, knocking the full bucket in one tug of the broom. The planks got soaked, a mess all around, hair on end, screaming.
I later apologized. You were furious I held this against you. "We're building a nest, baby", you said. Made me feel small, so small; not a feeling I often get. I don't know if it was your tone or the comforting soapy feel, recalling new beginnings, but I allowed myself to feel optimistic.

Wearing Selva do Brazil feels small, so small, and comforting in an optimistic way. The soap, the woodiness, the polished woodplanks, the summer air all around, the vetiver cologne in the distance, at the crook of your neck. It just felt like home. And I was sold.

Perfectly shareable, leaning slightly masculine, more than Maison Berdoues Scorza di Sicilia, but pleasantly borrowed by women. If you like subtle woody scents, this is for you. Beautiful bottle too, as usual.

A note on terminology: Though "cologne" might evoke either short lasting power or a masculine effect I assure you that it's a rather decent eau de toilette duration scent that could be worn by either men or women in warm weather (I suspect it'd get drowned in the cold).

Viktoria Minya Hedonist Cassis: fragrance review

The fallen berries that get smashed and mushed underfoot reflect something of the realization of so much waste around us that even useful, succulent things fall to their unintentional demise through a drive that obeys cosmic rules; gravity, fall, squish. Hedonist Cassis by young but talented perfumer Viktoria Minya is certainly not wasteful, bring the tang of blackcurrant and grapefruit into the core chord of Hedonist, her original creation, making for an intense experience that recalls gathering berries in the countryside waiting for mr.Fox.

hello mr.fox on flickr, via Pinterest

Viktoria Minya has indulged her original composition with a cluster of variations, each highlighting a separate ingredient, Iris, Rose, and Cassis. The latest, Hedonist Cassis, possibly comes in the most attractive bottle, purple-ish with a touch of the late Prince, if you will.

Berry fragrances probably owe their heritage to the cult best-seller by L'Artisan Parfumeur, the original "berry" which spawned a hundred offspring over the decades since its inception.
The composition here however reminds me much more of the appeal of Yves Saint Laurent In Love Again (a combo of grapefruit and blackcurrant) by perfumer Jean Claude Ellena and doesn't fail to make me smile. The rose note is reminiscent of the chord in L'Ombre dans l'Eau by Diptyque; if like me you tend to shy away from overly prim, Jane Austen roses, and appreciate instead the tang that blackcurrants give to the above mentioned Diptyque fragrance, then Hedonist Cassis is sure to hit you with the epiphany of "oh, there's rose in it". Yes, but oh so delicious.

I am reminded of inconsequential things that have to do with late summer: the droning sound of the bees, the lazy contours of the calamus in the distance, the gentle softening of the sky as dusk sets in lilac hues; refreshing juice full of sour and sweet citruses served on the balcony and the canopy shading the rays while we're reading L'Education Sentimentale, the heroes leaping off the page in their game of social graces, platonic loves and carnal disgraces; freckles slowly forming on a long hellenic nose and lashes prettily faning on a smooth cheek, the comfortable silence of well trodden territory.

Extraordinary lasting power in Heodnist Cassis is an added bonus. For those of you who love a tart synthesis with great balance between sweet and sour and a stonking beat of lasting musky-wood this is your fruity floral pick for summer wear.

Fragrance Notes for Viktoria Minya Hedonist Cassis:
Top notes are black currant, grapefruit and rhubarb;
middle notes are bulgarian rose, grass and cassis;
base notes are cedar and musk.

Anya's Garden Enticing: fragrance review & giveaway

"The Tuberose, with her silvery light,
That Is in the gardens of Malay
Is called the mistress of the night,
So like a bride, scented and bright,
She comes out when the sun’s away.

Then, by a secret virtue, these grateful odours
will add an inexpressible charm to your enjoyment;
but if, regardless of the precepts of moderation,
you will approach too near, this divine
flower will then be but a dangerous enchantress,
which will pour into your bosom a deadly poison,
Thus the love which descends from heaven purities
and exalts the delights of a chaste passion ; but
that which springs from the earth proves the bane
and the destruction of imprudent youth."
[source]

The seduction of Polianthes tuberosa starts in the mind, even if the consummation lies on a warm bed. Destabilizing one's mind, giving impure thoughts, thoughts of opiate intoxication, of abandoning one's self to pleasures of a forbidden nature, in the words of one writer "a voluptuous intoxication from which one does not easily become liberated".

Literally "flower of the city" (from the Greek πόλις/polis for city and  άνθος/anthos for flower), tuberose has been linked with a demi-mondaine existence in the big cities of Western Europe, where courtesans used it alongside other "crass" scents, such as musk and ambergris, to infiltrate themselves unto the lives of their lovers. The Victorian abstinence from using perfume on the body itself, unless it was in the form of a lightly scented product (hair pomade, mouth rinse, linen scent and the like), made the use of intimate forms of perfume even more daring by those deviating outwards of the accepted path of manners. Perfumer Anya McCoy of Anya's Garden chose wisely when she paired the dynamo of tuberose with animalic perfume notes (among them the human-meets-herbaceous scent of clary sage, beeswax and musk tincture), thus allying the two faces of Janus into a composite that is as narcotic as a forbidden substance, as dark as the night and as addictive as good chocolate. The lady is not quite covered, rather surreptitiously revealing, and quite old-fashioned in her naturalness; then again fashions are cyclical and animalic florals are off for a revival at the moment.

When I asked Anya about the process of creation she replied: "I used a combo of purchased absolute and extrait (pure absolute) made from pomade that I made. The pomade was washed with alcohol for two weeks, chilled, filtered. Very old school." Smelling the finished product I can vouch for the old school moniker myself; in the very best possible sense, that is!

Although the scent launched last summer, it took me a while to discover its many facets and to enjoy it on the warmer days of spring that we've been having. The natural warmth of the climate ramps up the carnal aspects to the max and it hangs into the humid air with the insistence of a lover always hungry for more. Maybe this is the deep, dangerous, complicit floral for summer to come.

Ingredients: Organic Sugar Cane Alcohol, Tuberose Absolute, Scented Alcohol extracted from Anya’s handmade Tuberose Enfleurage Pomade, Butter CO2, Opoponax Absolute, Clary Sage essential oil, Terpene Acetate Isolate ex. Cardamom, Beeswax Absolute and Anya’s handmade Beeswax Tincture, Patchouli essential oil, Mushroom Absolute, Siberian Musk Tincture.

Enticing is available in both pure perfume form as a 4ml mini, and as an Eau de Parfum 15ml spray from Anya’s Garden Perfumes store available here.

For our readers Anya McCoy has generously offered a FREE 4ml extrait de parfum of Enticing sent anywhere within the USA. All you have to do is leave a comment under the review and I will draw a winner after the weekend.

Related reading on Perfume Shrine:

Anya's Garden Perfume Reviews 

Animalic & "Skanky" Perfumes

Musk: natural Tonquin musk and synthetics

The historic Animalis base

Parfums Fourrure (so called "fur perfumes")

Dior Poison Girl (2016): fragrance review

One can blame LVMH for many things, but not for not knowing how to milk a thing on their hands. The Poison fragrance brand is a huge success for Parfums Christian Dior and not without good reason. Distinctive, aggressively noticeable, innovative at their time, the Poison perfume series has provided us with memorable fragrances. The new Poison Girl, out in February 2016 in my country, may fall short on the memorability stakes, but there's a clever twist inside to reflect one of the cleverest (and most enduringly popular) in the canon, the almond-powder feel of Hypnotic Poison inside a "youthful" sweet fruits and caramel medley.

collage made by Le Coeur Gothique (on parfumo.net)

It has been said that pop songs consist of recycling the same handful of chords, as one smart reader reminded me the other day, and the universe is well aware of my belief in fragrances' intertextuality (there's no parthenogenesis in art), so it comes as little surprise that I don't deem that bad in itself if the resulting collage is eye-grabbing. On the contrary it's a smart move by perfumer Francois Demachy, who oversees the creation process at Dior (no stranger to artistic influence themselves). Hypnotic Poison has created its own history and legend, and like Mugler's Angel basic chord before it, serves as a pop reference that pops up everywhere. Why not in the mother of all Poisons, aka Dior?

Poison Girl starts with a sweet, toffee like fruitiness of orange hard candy which vaguely recalls half the current market (La vie est Belle, Tresor La Nuit, Black Opium, Loverdose, Flowerbomb...), with a cherry cough syrup hint, that predisposes an avid Poison lover for toothache, but thankfully cedes to a powdery almond within the hour where it stays for the duration. Seeing as Hypnotic Poison Eau Sensuelle got to the good part straight away, I can only surmise that the intent is to grab a specific demographic interested in the rather tacky gourmand top note and who might come to love the development regardless.

LVMH needed something to spar with L'Oreal and they got it. Not bad.

A footnote on the ad campaign:
Rather lost on the advertising and naming of Dior's Poison Girl, personally speaking.
"Girl" sounds demeaning (would they have called a masculine fragrance "boy" if it would appeal to young men? Edit to add: Apparently they would, but there's a reason). The night club pictures with model and actress Camille Rowen holding a cigarette in her nubile hands under the No Smoking signs and her defiant (try stoned) look under her $200-posing-for-bed-head haircut looks as rebellious as a straight A's pupil going for an Anthropology major instead of the prescribed Law School.  Is "no bras" the fighting field of young girls today? I very much doubt it.
At least the previous Poison editions had bold, imaginative, suggestive advertising. This is lame.

Annick Goutal Les Absolus 1001 Ouds: fragrance review

Not unfittingly I had waited till I had written my articles on myrrh resin before writing my full perfume review of the latest Annick Goutal 1001 Ouds fragrance in the Les Absolus range. That's because rather than being a fully fledged oud/aoudh fragrance this oriental elixir features myrrh in a key player position.

photo Vitor Schietti

The trend for oudh has been going strong and every brand has embraced the innovations of the fragrance industry. Some say this particular trend is an unpardonable sin (and indeed only Chanel seems impervious to the flummox as of this moment) so an oud-centric perfume from Annick Goutal did not spell optimism in my heart of hearts. Especially as the combination of oudh with rose has been the hallmark of tried and tested combinations surgically transplanted from Middle Eastern perfumery -where they thrive in local blends- and then watered down for western usage.
Nevertheless 1001 Ouds in Les Absolus d'Annick Goutal managed to not fulfill the desire for apostasy that ran in the back of my mind. Two key ingredients which are featured in a clever way by perfumer composer Isabel Doyen are responsible for the rekindled interest.

Myrrh resin, bittersweet and poignant, is restraining the stomping boots of the oudh note. Thankfully as most contemporary oudh compositions, lacking the complexity of a traditional oudh perfume essence, run the risk of coming across as rather aggressive (the dreaded Band Aid note) and a little too invasive, like a stranger in leather gear on public transport making intense eye contact out of the blue. The woody effect given by papyrus wood is slightly smoky, the feel of a distant campfire rather than having the barbecue right on the lawn.

Rose phobics or those who do like rose but dread the engulfing tentacles of it when combined with usual suspects sandalwood or oudh in an Arabian setting need not be scared. The rose in 1001 Ouds by Annick Goutal is providing a softened, mellowed bridge between the more challenging ingredients, polishing the corners and smoothening the edges. This well known perfumers' trick works especially well here; one doesn't really discern the rose, only the humming warmth and glow that resembles a copper-toned lipstick on an olive skinned lady.

As might be suspected by the notes 1001 Ouds leans to the shared fragrances side of the spectrum and men and women alike would enjoy it without problems. In fact the creative team at Annick Goutal present the Les Absolus trio as a lovers' shared sensuous experience and they couldn't be closer to the truth. These are warm, soft, enveloping fragrances to share with those you cherish the most.

As with the rest of Les Absolus, beautiful presentation, demanding prices.

Related reading on Perfume Shrine:
Annick Goutal fragrance reviews and news
Oud/Aoudh/Agarwood: perfume raw material
Les Absolus d'Annick Goutal: perfume reviews