Elizabeth Arden True Love: fragrance review

 True Love is a classic Sophia Grojsman composition in that it possesses three main constituents: a clean, groomed outlook with lots of musk, mainly Galaxolide; a peachy fruity component that blends with the skin; and heaps of sillage with tremendous lasting power. Scents to be noticed and commented upon.

For something so quiet and soft, True Love is a very impressive performer, I can attest.

The scent of True Love (1994) combines elements of two beloved fragrances that followed it: Nivea eau de toilette, which I have reviewed in the past, and Irisia by Creed, which is a more chypre take on the soapy floralcy of this one (supposedly a 1960s composition, but in reality much more modern). It has elements that make the Dove soap, the classic white creamy bar, so lovely to smell and use.

True Love projects quite linear, starting with a whoosh of soapy cleanliness and segueing into an abstract lactonic floralcy of no discernible edges. It's soft all around, like a pink angora sweater, and cooling like a glass of pink champagne. Sarah Horowitz capitalized on the concept with her Perfect Veil, a cult item of a scent around the millennium based on the combination of citrusy sparkle, soft clean musk, and a smidgen of vanilla for sweetness - a gauze of a scent theoretically, something that lingers, does not appear too perfume-y for the sensibilities of the women of the late 1990s, yet is still quite the beast.

 

Do not expect much from the bottle itself. It's a plain cylindrical style in glass, capped by an unassuming plastic cap to correspond. Nothing to write home about. But it's what's inside that counts. Elizabeth Arden's fragrance bottles and compositions tend to look unassuming and prosaic on the surface. 

Online discounters often offer Elizabeth Arden fragrances at exceptionally low prices, considering the quality, lasting power, and decency of the liquid inside. It's a brand worth seeking out.
 

Estee Lauder White Linen: fragrance review & history

Would you appreciate a fragrance that projected around the way knitting needles would stick inside your nostrils, the equivalent of a scent porcupine? The "needles up the nose" characterization has never found a more apt bond than the one spontaneously created in the mind of one perfume lover on the board of Perfume of Life years ago regarding White Linen. The phrase has since entered the online perfume lingo as a casual but evocative definition for the painfully sharp, supremely stinging feeling that certain perfumes heavy in aldehydes (i.e. synthesized molecules with a "bright", soapy and fizzy aspect), such as this particular Lauder perfume, produce in those who smell them.

White Linen is possibly among the most distinctly aldehydic floral fragrances of all time, an honor it shares with Chanel No.22, but whereas No.22 goes for the snuffed out candle waxiness and smokiness (which recalls incense if you glint your head just this way), White Linen, its American counterpart and about 50 years its junior, goes for the steam of an iron pressing on a crisp, starched shirt which has been washed with the harshest lye soap on earth. In short, memorable! (You'd never mistake it for "white noise fragrance")

White Linen was launched alongside Lauder's Celadon and Pavilion in 1978 as part of the makeup and scents collection "New Romantics" (in itself influenced by the music trend that was just emerging). Composed by Sophia Grojsman, White Linen bears her signature style of impressive cleanness projected via loudspeakers fit for a Guns n'Roses concert. For a Russian emigre Grojsman has acquired throughout her career a particularly American ideal of femininity, no doubt thanks to the exigencies of the American giant of aromatics who employs her, International Flavors and Fragrances; well scrubbed, athletic, spick & span, Athenian rather than Venereal.

1993 print ad

Coming on the heels of the sporty leathery Azuree, the bitterish chypre perfume Private Collection and the bright and soapy-smelling aldehydic Estee, it's not difficult to see how White Linen also fits in the canon of Lauder and in the zeitgeist of the late 70s, when women began to make a career of executive positions and started in earnest to 'bring home the bacon, fry it in a pan' as one commercial* of the times claimed.

Although ubiquitous and always in production since its launch, without any detectable changes in its formula, it's one of those fragrances that fly under the radar, so I am archiving White Linen in my Underrated Perfume Day feature. Its monolithic structure (built on huge single blocks of materials, much like later Grojsman oeuvres such as Tresor by Lancome) White Linen packs a punch.
But the aldehydic knock-out comes with an astounding discovery: the aldehydes contribute just 1% to the formula, with equal parts of Galaxolide (synthetic clean musk, garlanded by at least 3 other synth musks) and Vertofix (giving a cedar wood note) accounting for almost half of the ingredients! The secret is that unlike most other aldehydic floral fragrances it lacks the modifying, mollifying caress of bergamot and ylang ylang.

late 1990s print ad

1986 print ad

A fresh rose core, so fresh that it borders on cleaned-up orange blossom, bring a kinship of White Linen to Calandre, while the overall genealogy brings it as a modern classic that derives from Madame Rochas and Chanel No.5. The sheen of squeaky green lily of the valley boosts the sharp cleanness, the sparkle of hedione brings luminosity and vetiver gives its own freshness and subtle woodiness alongside a powerful amber note. The latter two elements give White Linen a touch of sophistication which could tilt it into unisex territory.

White Linen is a powerful, titanic Aurora and although it is removed from what I (and many other people) find comfortable, I can't fail but to admire its guts and its blinding brightness, white-washed like a house directly carved out of white volcanic rock in the Aegean.

*that's actually the slogan for Enjoli. 

The advertising photos are all so charmingly appealing that I decided to include them all. 

1978 print ad

Prescriptives Calyx: fragrance review & history

Part of PerfumeShrine's regular Underrated Perfume Day feature, I'm inspired to talk of Calyx because it strikes me as the Prometheus of hardcore (if such a strong word can be used for the genre) fruity fragrances that have dominated the late 1990s, the 2000s and 2010s market so far (and in part a culprit for the emergence of fruitchouli). Coming out as far back as 1986, an uplifting tart tropical punch splashed all over a tan California blonde right out of the shower, it subsisted on the other edge of hope, pitted as it was against the likes of Coco by Chanel, Opium by YSL, Dior's original Poison or Giorgio Beverly Hills.

Still, the cosmetics brand that issued it, Prescriptives (since out of business, except for this fragrance which is still in production and now distributed via Clinique counters), part of the Lauder Group, had the necessary market cojones to sustain its sales for years. The pure, custom-tailored image of their cosmetics was a natural fit for the idea of a pure, celestially squeezed perfume which back then had none of the connotations of sugary hard candy stickiness and hair salon peach/apple waft we associate with fruity fragrances today. Its perfumer, Sophia Grojsman, is famous for her clean but potent accords, which make use of a very different idea of feminine allure than the standard "vintage" and European concept of animalic scents that enhance -rather than conceal- the odorata sexualis and hide cigarette smoke remnants off Old World garments. Calyx was the culmination of American Artemis versus European Aphrodite: the "lean, mean, clean machine" was coming on scene for good and Lauder (who oversaw Prescriptives) had already built a generous following thanks to their sparkling clean fragrances such as White Linen and Estee. Grojsman was put to record elaborating on the cachet of fruit as feminine nectar saying "some fruit accords, like the one in Calyx, have a very pure quality. It's a different kind of sexuality, more innocent than the animal notes…And men like innocence. To them it is sexy…Fruit also carries a connotation of sin. Where would Adam and Eve have been without that apple?"

This assertion is in a nutshell the axiom of feminine mental submission. In a way these fruity scents seem to me as if they're not so subtly introducing a regression on feminism. Woman becomes a pliable little girl again, fresh and unknowing in her virginal, not yet sexualized body, which awaits the all prescient male to do the plucking. It is important to note that contrary to similar concepts of youthful, nubile allure brandished in European brand fragrances of the time (such as Loulou by Cacharel) the girl in question is never presented to be aware of her own erotic capital as an authentic Lolita would be. Rather the innocence is poised as a halo around her, a scent message of total abandon of control. Where's the temptation of the knowledgeable apple, I question.

Calyx doesn't smell of apple either. It smells of a neon cascade of grapefruit (though like with Un Jardin sur le Nil with its illusion of green mango there is no essence of the illusory fruit in question in the formula), boosted by guava and papaya (which give an almost overripe scent bordering on garbage if you really notice it) and a cluster of more traditional, zestful fruit notes (namely the citrusy mandarin and bergamot for uplifting elegance and the lactonic peach and apricot for comfort & skin compatibility). The weird thing with Calyx is that the standard cool-steam-room of lily of the valley heart with its transparent florals from a distance is flanked by a little berry underpinning on the bottom and transparent woody notes that rely on bombastic synthetics. The feeling earned nevertheless is one of celestial, mental awareness rather than one of tropical languor on Bora Bora sand dunes all smeared in Coppertone lotion and for that unique reason it deserves a place in the lesser pantheon of perfumes worth giving a second chance to, feminism aside.

The full list of Notes for Prescriptives Calyx includes:
Top: mandarin, passionfruit, peach, mango, bergamot, grapefruit, papaya, guava, mint, cassia.
Heart: cyclamen, lily of the valley, jasmine, rose, neroli, marigold, melon.
Base: vetiver, oakmoss, sandalwood, musk, raspberry.

Structure of a Perfume: What it is, How to Achieve it and the Myth of the Fragrance Pyramid

Consider flipping through a fashion magazine for a minute: Sandwiched between glossy pages of advertising with models in ecstatic surrender to the sheer beauty of any given potion of seduction, you will find editorial guides that teach you that fragrances are classified in olfactory "families" and that they develop like music "chords" into top notes, heart notes and base notes, built into a "fragrance pyramid": maximum volatility* ingredients first; medium-diffusion materials following them after the intial impression vanishes; tenacious, clinging for dear life materials last. That should make it easier, right? Well, not exactly.

 The thing is most contemporary fragrances are not built as neatly and the bulk of fragrance descriptors are written with a marketing consideration to begin with. It's not a plot to mislead, but the industry is still shrouded in mystery, offering a rough blueprint rather than an analytical Google map into the largely uncharted terrain of fragrance composition. After all, look what happens with "perfume notes"; we're given the effect in the press material but the real ingredient hiding behind the fragrance note is something else entirely.

So how does one go about it?

 The Fragrance Pyramid and Other Myths of Mysterious Structure 

 Recalling Pharaonic mysteries more than hard science the term "fragrance pyramid" entered the vernacular as a means to educate the public into how perfumes are actually constructed. It was legendary perfumer Jean Carles (Shiaparelli Shocking, Dana's Tabu and Canoe, Miss Dior) who used this stratagem to explain a perfume to an industry outsider. The "fragrance pyramid" concept embodies the classic three-tiered French structure of such great perfumes of yore as Ma Griffe by Carven (another Jean Carles creation) or Bal a Versailles (Desprez), where the denouement reveals distinct phases resembling a 3-D presentation. You get all different angles while the perfume dries down on the skin; a slow, engaging process to an often unexpected end.

 Consider too one of the tightest traditional perfume structures, the "chypre" (the name derives from the homonymous archetype perfume by Francois Coty, in turn inspired by the ancient blends from the island of Cyprus, i.e. Chypre in French): a harmonious blend (i.e. an accord) of bergamot (a citrus fruit from the Mediterranean basin), labdanum (a resinous extraction from rockrose) and oakmoss (a lichen from oaks). This compact form, like a musical sonata, has a clear progression of themes, from elegantly sour to resinous/sweet, down to mossy/earthy, but all work together in simultaneous harmony, becoming more than the sum of their parts. On top of this basic skeleton perfumers may add flowers, fruits, grasses or leather notes, giving a twist to this or that direction like a shift to a kaleidoscope; this allows them to flesh out the core's striking bone structure, just like makeup accents luscious lips and expressive eyes over solid jaws and prominent cheekbones.

Not every fragrance is built on the pyramid structure (or the "chypre accord" for that matter), nor is it a foolproof guide of deciphering a perfume's message. Guerlain's Après L'Ondée (1906) plays with the contrast of warm & cool between just two main ingredients: violet and heliotrope; the rest are accessories.

 Comparing Guerlain Shalimar (1925), Nina Ricci L'Air du Temps (1948) and Lancôme Trésor (1990) we come across three different styles of composing, of structuring a fragrance: The first is reminiscent of older-style fixation of natural ingredients (lots of bergamot) via the triplet of animal products (civet, an animal secretion), balsamic materials (benzoin, Peru balsam) and sweet elements (vanilla, tonka bean). The second is pyramidal. The third is almost linear, the same tune from start to finish, a powerful message on speakers.

 In linear fragrances the effect is comparable to the unison of a Gregorian chant: the typically fresh top seems entirely missing, replaced by trace amounts of intensely powerful materials boosting the character. Lauder's White Linen or Giorgio by Giorgio Beverly Hills are characteristic examples. Sophia Grojsman was in fact the one who introduced this minimalist style with maximalist effect, composing an accord of 4-5 ingredients that comprise almost 80% of the formula (as in Trésor, based on a formula originally made for herself). This accord was then flanked by other materials to provide richness and complexity. Times have changed, fragrance launches have multiplied like Gremlins pushed into the ocean and consumers' attention span has withered to a nanosecond on which to make a buying decision. No wonder contemporary perfumes are specifically constructed to deliver via a short cell-phone texting rather than a Dickens novel published in instalments in a 19th century periodical. Other considerations, such as robot lab compounding, industry restrictions on classical ingredients due to skin sensitising concerns and the minimalist school of thought emerging at the expense of Baroque approaches, leave recent launches with increasingly shorter formulae. But that's not de iuoro bad either. One of the masterpieces of perfumery, Guerlain's Mitsouko, consists of a short formula! A succinct, laconic message.

 Some fragrances are built like a contrapuntal Bach piece and others like Shostakovich: Comparing a fragrance by Jean Carles or Edmond Roudnitska with one from Sophia Grojsman or Jean Claude Ellena are two different experiences. That does not mean that contemporary perfumes are devoid of architectural merit. On the contrary. Refined compositions like Osmanthe Yunnan or Ambre Narguilé (both boutique-exclusive Hermès, called Hermessences) showcase the potential of this school. Structure is not only given by arranging the volatility of ingredients. It's how each material plays its delineated role into achieving the overall fragrance. Structure is consolidated by using the requisite materials and ratios to provide what is commonly referred to as "the bones" of a fragrance. Most often these materials happen to be synthetic, because they consist of a single molecule (in contrast a natural, such as rose absolute, can contain hundreds of molecules), they're stable and produce a closely monitored effect in tandem with other dependables.

For instance Grojsman's Trésor uses a staggering 21,4% of Galaxolide, a synthetic "clean"/warm smelling note. Jean Claude Ellena is famous for maxing out the technical advantages of woody-musky ingredient Iso-E Super in his fragrances for structure and diffusion.

In the end structural analysis is for the professionals. The wearer can experience the fragrance linearly, circuitously or languidly; it ultimately depends on his/her sensitivity, perception, attention-span and education.

ref: Robert R. Calkin, Joseph Stephan Jellinek, Perfumery: Practices & Principles, 1994 John Wiley & Sons
pic od ad coloribus.com

Calvin Klein Eternity (1988 original): fragrance review

Think of 1980s perfumes and think of today: See a difference? A staggering 11.7% ratio of Iso-E Super (a synthetic abstract woody note) ensures that 1988-issued Eternity by the-then-Calvin-Klein-controlled house was on the vanguard of something that would be exploited to full effect several years later. It also justfies why Eternity doesn't exactly smell like Eternity any more, as Iso-E Super concentrations have been toned down in recent perfumery restrictions.
Sophia Grojsman, the renowned perfumer behind this, is no shy violet when coming to streamlining a formula down to a few core accords & ingredients which give a pronounced effect: Tonalide and Galaxolide (both synthetic musks) are also overdosed, and her other best-selling opus, Trésor for Lancôme, contains a huge amount of Galaxolide, accounting for the phenomenal tenacity (Synthetic musks don't budge off for days on end).

Calvin Klein wanted to capture a romantic vibe after the carnal lust of Obsession and its racy advertising, forseeing the 1990s return to the cocoon and the conservative values of family. Thus an iconic fragrance of the 1990s emerged, advertised in serene scenes of a family by the sea, fronted by Chris Turlington (one of the top 5 supermodels of the era). Was the seascape kissing romantic in that it stirred the unconsious of viewers into reminding them of Deborrah Kerr and Burt Lancaster sharing a passionate salty kiss in From Here to Eternity? Possibly. But the execution was much tamer this time, all preppy and "clean", in tune with the AIDS epidemic which necessitated a (public) cleaning up of one's sexual act.
The name was inspired by the ring of the Windsors, which king Edward VIII had offered to Wallis Simpson, and which Calvin had later bought at an auction for his ~then~ wife Kelly Proctor; it stands as a token of timeless promise of love and immortality: "As long as we're together, time can't touch us" the motto went.

The characteristic peppery heart of Calvin Klein Eternity evoking carnations is dusted with powder (heliotrope, musk) and fresh notes (citrus, greens, lily of the valley), making the fragrance fit for summer or winter, as long as you use it with restraint; it's quite potent! But the overall impression is removed from individual notes: Luca Turin calls it a "loud rose" and he's absolutely right: Eternity takes peppery notes reminiscent of spicy flowers (like carnation) and sprinkles them on top of an intensely soapy rose. In short, if you expect something like the retro Bellodgia by Caron, you will be disappointed.
To really feel the rose beneath the carnation however do an experiment: Take rose-affirmed Paris by YSL (also by Grojsman) and spray one on the one hand, the other on the other. You will feel it all right! After all, rose is Grojsman's favourite flower and she manages to amplify its message in almost everything she touches creating that "cleavage" accord for which she's famous, from Trésor for Lancôme (allied with apricot), Bulgari pour Femme, Nude by Bill Blass, and Jaipur for Boucheron to uber-niche S-perfume 100% Love. "Perfumers have signatures," Mrs. Grojsman said. "You can pick up a fragrance and know who the perfumer is by the way certain ingredients are put together. I'm known for floral accords, bottoms and cleavage."
Memorably, one of the lines I best recall involving the fragrance was featured in an American film involving a gynaecologist molester: his preferred scent on his women victims was Eternity; "it smells of clean sheets" was his (valid) explanation. Creepy...



Eternity proved such a popular concept (it's a best-seller in France of all places!) and name that a legion of flankers (Eternity Moment, Eternity Purple Orchid, Eternity Rose Blush, Eternity Summer and some I might be forgetting right now) have emerged over the years, tweaking the formula to serve the zeitgeist. It's still available (and apparently selling well) in department stores under Coty Prestige.

Notes for Calvin Klein Eternity (1988 original)
Top: Freesia, leafy green accord, citrus oils (mandarin), sage, narcissus, lily
Heart: Rose, violet, lily of the valley, carnation, marigold, apricot, peach
Base: Patchouli, sandalwood, heliotrope, musk

Roundtable discussion with perfumer Sophia Grojsman

Check out this link for a roundtable discussion on Perception and Imagination: Masters of the Senses, which engages Greg Calbi, Sophia Grojsman, Mark Mitton, Nils Noren, Philip Pearlstein, and Frank Wilson, from The Philoctetes Center.
Their other related links are also quite interesting!

Uploaded by philoctetesctr on Youtube

Intoxicated ~Yvresse (Champagne) by Saint Laurent: fragrance review

Is there anything more French than Champagne? The delicate fizz of this refreshing wine is irresistible. Its little bubbles burst on the palate as they incessantly move upwards in the fluted crystal glasses in long, long ribbons with all the gusto of exotic dancers, making me dream.
Champagne, produced by inducing the in-bottle secondary fermentation of wine to effect carbonation, is also protected under "appellation": An appellation is a geographical indication used to identify where the grapes for a wine were grown. In the case of champagne, the wine enjoyed an appellation control by virtue of legal protection as part of the Treaty of Madrid (1891). It was stated there that only sparkling wine produced in the Champagne region and adhering to the standards defined for an Appellation d'Origine Contrôlée could be called "champagne." This right was even reaffirmed in the Treaty of Versailles after WWI.
And here is where Yves Saint Laurent and his fragrance steps in...

Yvresse, the feminine fruity chypre by Yves Saint Laurent, was composed by Sophia Grojsman (previously responsible for the mega-hit Paris) and originally launched in 1993 as Champagne. Even the bottle recalled the cork-stoppered bottles of the French elixir with its twisted gold metal detailing. But upon its issue, the French winegrowers protested, even resorting to smashing bottles of champagne in front of the journalists who had arrived in Paris for the launch party. Pierre Bergé, president of the brand, had had to scuffle with the vinoculturists and the battle for the name was afoot. After a lawsuit resulting in a legal battle which Parfums Yves Saint Laurent lost, they rechristened the fragrance Yvresse : a clever and elegant word play on “ivresse” -which means "intoxication/drunkenness" in French- with Saint Laurent’s initial “Y”).
It was at that crucial no man's land point in time that advertisements circulated on which it was noted: Sous ce nom je serai bientôt un objet rare. (I will soon be a rare object under this name). The red-sequins dressed woman was holding her hands in the air in a shape of Y, recalling the advertisements of Saint Laurent's other chypre, the magnificent and dry Y.
It was at that point that I had secured my bottle. I know it has become a collectible.
Later on, the emphasis of the slogan shifted and two elements mingled: the pettillant (sparkling) aspect of champagne: "un hommage aux femmes qui petillent"(a hommage to women who sparkle); and the forbidden touch that was traced back to Opium: "Les femmes adorent les interdits" (women love the forbidden), with perhaps a wink to L'interdit by Givenchy.


Yvresse is an excess of an effervescing fruity chypre, nostalgic for an era of full-bodied both wines and women with complex personalities and secrets behind the festive facade. It's full of overripe notes, like a bruised apricot, that recall to mind more an eau de vie with sweet violets on top or a "bellini" of mashed peach purée and sparkly Prosecco than actual champagne, although it does retain the sparkling quality of the delicate bubbles. The latter makes for an impressive swoosh upon first spraying without the tingling of the nostrils that makes the experience of sipping champagne so naughtily indulgent. Wait for it to develop fully though and it has a tipsy effect that is comparable. Yvresse has a buttery quality about it, with an oak tone like the used barrels of fermented spirits. In a way its petulant character traces its antecedents in the hideously beautiful Que Sais-Je? by Jean Patou (composed by Henri Alméras in 1925), a more robust example of a honeyed fruity chypre.
The violet, mint and spicy aniseed notes of Yvresse, piquant along with the earthier chypre accord, combine to give a character of both brightness and sophistication, celebrating in a decadent way. Yvresse is meant to be worn by bubbling, spirited women (or daring men) who can hold their own and laugh their way during a dull soirée, not needing others to make it a celebratory occasion.

Notes:
Top: nectarine, mint, aniseed, cumin, violet
Heart: "blue rose", rose, lychee, carnation, cinnamon, jasmine
Base: vetiver, oakmoss, patchouli

There is also an Yvresse Eau de Toilette Légère (light version) which replaces nectarine fruit with nectarine flower, aniseed with blackcurrant leaves, rose with mimosa and lychee with white lilac. It's less sweet and less "ripe".

For those who find Yvresse likable but perhaps too much and more mature than they would like, Deci Delà by Nina Ricci, a now discontinued but easily found online perfume, is quite close in spirit and smell. It adds a taste of hazelnut and vanilla and eases on the boozy, but with a more playful air that would satisfy a younger audience.

Pic of drunk (?) lady by owenbooth on Flickr.
Ad pic courtesy of parfumdepub.

Paris, Je t'Aime ~Paris by Saint Laurent: fragrance review

In a funny little tale recounted to perfume journalist Susan Irvine, the notorious Russian perfumer Sophia Grojsman was followed by a drunk one night, forcing her to walk quicker in the night streets, upon which he called out: "Hey lady, I am not following you; I am just trying to smell your perfume!" Grojsman was working on Paris, the big, ebullient rose fragrance by Yves Saint Laurent, at the time, and this was the moment she realised "she had it". Indeed Paris has the gift -and curse, if you overdo it, as so many did in the late 80s- to be perceptible at a distance, creating a wake that will make waiters swerve on their heels, small children drop their toys to hug you and men exclaiming you smell "clean and feminine".

Yves Saint Laurent, an incurable romantic, created Paris in 1983 choosing rose and pink as the themes around which the fragrance would be built and dedicated it to his beloved city of inspiration and eternal love. A strange, arguably atavistic choice for someone who had caused an uproar a mere 6 years back with his contraband alluding fragrance of artificial paradises, Opium.
The fragrance is a romantic symphony, a sonorous orchestration of reportedly 232 notes blended with the artistry of someone who knows what they are doing. Like a lavish bouquet, Paris’ deepening chords of rose petal notes make the fragrance all the richer in its expression of lush warmth and womanly tenderness.

The fragrance formula actually follows quite closely the 1947 french classic L'Air du Temps (Nina Ricci) but the violet-rose fruity accord of Paris is based on ionones and damascones, aroma materials first discovered in 1893 (ionones) and isolated in 1967 (damascones); they were first used in abundance in another rose fragrance, the fiery Nahéma by Guerlain. Damascones featured heavily in the legendary Nombre Noir and contributed along with ionones to many of the formidable "roaring rose" fragrances of the 1980s. Violets naturally smell of ionones, with equal parts woody and fruity undertones, which makes them such an interesting material for the perfumer.
In Paris the rose is never just rosy: it takes all complex shades and nuances of a living room in which they decorate a flamboyant vase. Honeyed overtones of sweet, ripe fruits as well as liquor whiffs, as of dregs left in small taillé glasses after a hearty dinner, are clearly perceptible in different stages of the development. The whole embraces you in a vice-grip which asserts itself as only very affectionate feminine relatives can be: there is no escape, but you truly know they mean well.



Paris took a more daring turn visually during Tom Ford's tenure which resulted in this racy image for the European glossies. The advertisements, in tune with current designer Stefano Pilati's fashions, have -since Ford's departure from the house- reverted to tamer connotations.

Paris eau de toilette , which is more powdery and "cleaner", has a deep pink cap, while the sweeter eau de parfum has a golden cap and is fruitier. The pure parfum, intensely rosy and potent, is crowned with a prismatic cap in the shape of a reverted cone-exposing brilliant, symbolising Paris, the City of Light; designed by Pierre Dinard according to Basenotes or Alain de Morgues according to Susan Irvine.

Limited editions of versions of the original Paris for the warmer season include: Paris Eau de Printemps (2002), Paris Premieres Roses (2003), Paris Roses des Bois (2004), Paris Roses Enchantees (2005), Paris Roses des Vergers (2006), and Paris Jardins Romantiques (2007), some of which are grouped in a collectible set of minis. Typically they are lighter, girlier and less dense, highlighting a woodier, greener or muskier accord instead.

Notes:
Top: hawthorn, bergamot, juniper berries, carnation, honey, mimosa, orris
Heart: French, Moroccan and English roses, red fruits, pear liquor, violet
Base: heliotrope, musk, amber, cedar, sandalwood

Clip of Paris commercial uploaded by tylw on Youtube. Pic of ad from parfumdepub.

Treasured features for Trésor

It was just a few days ago that Perfume Shrine was talking about revamped ad campaigns, inspired by the news that Kate Winslet, the quintessential English Rose of tremendous thespian abilities had been chosen to represent the almost classic fragrance by the house of Lancôme, Trésor.

I always thought she would bring pathos and freshness in anything commercial she might touch, remembering her in such roles as the romantically exalted Marianne in Sense and Sensibility or the outwardly rebellious, inwardly sensitive Clementine in the Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind". Even for a quite heavy handed composition as the original Trésor eau de parfum by Sophia Grojsman, a fragrance that first appeared in 1990 to subsequent throes of overpopularity that made it a little banal. Perhaps now is the time to lure in new customers who will see it with virginal eyes.
For your delectation, here are the first pics that have been sleuthed for you. Enjoy!


Pics originally uploaded at jjb.yuku.com