3 Eaux by Lancome: O, O d'Azur & O de l'Orangerie: Fragrance Reviews & Comparison

If you're among those who judge fragrance by its colour as to what to expect smellwise, you're going to be misdirected by the Lancome fragrances trio this summer. Lancôme crowds its counters with three "new" releases: Ô, Ô d'Azur and Ô de l'Orangerie. All three are comprised by the popular-again-concept of a light, chilled "eau" for summer freshening up, but with a new ethereal execution and less of the sscreetchy feel of the 1990s. Of those three, Ô is not new at all: It's a reissue of the classic Ô de Lancôme, reviewed on Perfume Shrine a while ago and still retaining its gorgeous green shade.The other two inadvertedly manage to confuse the customer with their added tint: Ô d'Azur, last summer's edition still circulating, is coloured a fetching light beige, when the name (Blue Water) would suggest otherwise! Ô de l'Orangerie (Orange Grove Water) is coloured a nice, diaphanous celadon, when common wisdom would forsee a yellow tinge, as befits an orange blossom scent! But Pantone scale choices aside, all cater to a laid-back approach to personal scent for the warmer months of the year, with the classic being undoubtedly the best of the three.

Ô de Lancôme falls under familiar concerns: A re-issue is always cause for frantic comparisons among perfume cognoscenti: Is it like it was? Has it been ruined in the process? What happens with restrictions necessitating a slimming course for its body? I am happy to report that Ô de Lancôme hasn't subjected itself to too much Weight Watchers, feeling as crisply green and naturalistically lyrical as it was: Green, like snapped leaves in one's palm, with a citrusy tang which provides an immediate spring on the step, it's no wonder Ô de Lancome, composed by perfumer Robert Gonnon, has been a fresh, bring-on-the-changes scent since its embracement of the revolutionary youths of the 1970s. The re-issue is perhaps a bit attenuated in the final stages of the drydown, gaining the character of a light floral instead of a mossier chypre-like ambience, in tandem with the latest reformulation which happened in the late 1990s, but it's still very good; its execution of transparency without losing substance is akin to that in Bulgari's Eau Parfumee au The Vert. If you liked Lauder's citrusy Pure White Linen Light Breeze a couple of summers ago (this year's Lauder citrus is Bronze Goddess Soleil which you can find reviewed here), you are also advised to try this re-issue: they share the musk aspect under the citrus greenery.

In the newest Ô de l'Orangerie the classic Eau de Cologne mould is most perceived, predominant in the top stages, vibrant, refreshing, snapping with brio.The classic pairing of a bergamot top with light herbal notes and lavender is the combination that evokes cleaning up, splashing on a feel good fragrance to feel "bien dans sa peau", the French expression to denote feeling good about one's self. The concept is great, which is why it has withheld for centuries, but the problem has always been how to extend the duration on skin; traditional perfumers solved part of the problem with using alcohol tinctured with ambergris or musk: a smidge gives a little tenacity so top notes do not evaporate instantly, though too much would completely overshadow the delicate effluvium. Modern perfumers, such as in this case, solve the problem with synthetic musks: The composition progresses to a "clean", non indolic orange blossom that reads as "fresh floral", a "clear" jasmine buyoed by musks, benzoin and a tiny bit of cedar (read Iso_E Super). This gives great lasting power and wafting to what would otherwise be a fleeting cologne. It's pretty, but its lack of character means it won't substitute my beloved Fleurs d'Oranger by Lutens any time soon.

Ô d'Azur originally came out in spring 2010, to commemorate 40 years of the introduction ofthe classic green Ô. It is supposed to evoke that fantasy of so many: a Mediterranean summer, all white-washed houses atop bare rock, brilliant in the sun, with the blue waves crushing softly and interminently. It's not an easy task to do and many fail miserably (see Elizabeth Arden Mediterranean which -frankly speaking- smells nothing Med!), usually suffusing everything with an ironfist of Calone (that synthetic "melon" note). Others manage to evoke the ambience, by going about in unusual ways, like with salty florals: see the magnificent Lys Mediterranee by F.Malle. Perfumers Domitille  Bertier and Sophie Labbé didn't do too bad for Lancôme, although the end result does feel a bit of a pastiche. With the hindsight of thousands of aquatics and diaphanous fruity florals on the market, the composition is reminiscent of several things at once. Still, it manages to stand a bit on the upper side of that abysmal depth, the impression of what could have been "elegant" were it fleshed out properly. L'Oréal regretfully doesn't invest the budget to do so. Official notes include: bergamot, lemon, rose, peony, ambrette seed and musk. Ô d'Azur in reality is pretty, built on an indeterminate cyclamen-rose accord with pink pepper on top, layered over "clean" and skin-like musks (ambrette seed among them) that keep a low hum to the fragrance for a long time, although the fruity and floral touches disappear quite soon.It's a no brainer, but its dullness would probably get to you after a while.

Ô, Ô d'Azur and Ô de l'Orangerie by Lancome come in Eau de Toilette concentration (Sizes are 50ml, 75ml and 125ml. For reference 2.5oz retails for $55, available at major department stores). Even though they remind one of summer limited editions, they're not supposed to be: Lancome means to keep them in the line for good. The commercials and advertising images with Lancome face Daria Werbowy are ticket for fantasy, to be sure.

Calvin Klein Beauty: fragrance review

I am reminded of the Greek term for "beautiful" while contemplating the concept of the new Calvin Klein feminine fragrance, Beauty. The term is όμορφος which literally translates as "of good shape". Contrary to just a lucky roll of the genetic dice, nevertheless, the Greeks have another word to describe someone who impresses our aesthetics with their comportment and appearence, both: ωραίος. This term etymologically comes from the phrase "of its time" and further signifies someone that is in equilibrium, in harmony with the surrounding world: Clearly being ωραίος requires some degree of intellectual and aesthetic effort, contrary to όμορφος! And yet I can't really say that Beauty by Calvin Klein is either. It's pretty (effort number 3 to describe aesthetic value!) and will wear well on many wearers, but in view of the above it fails to instigate either the sense of awe that a DNA-induced Royal Floss would or the grudging admiration a witty and wily leading of the cards in a whist Grand Slam would produce. Beauty is the equivalent of a computer solitaire game; it passes the time pleasantly and that's it.


Supposedly the fragrance was created to support Calvin Klein's clothes collection, with no aspirations of outward seduction (contrary to Euphoria or Obsession which play their intentions face up on the table). Thus Beauty has been promoted as a scent for mature women who choose fashion from the CK line and enjoy his familiar style and minimalistic brevity. To incarnate these, the creating team chose the calla lily. Now calla lilies are not especially renowned for their potent scent (other varieties are prefered, more on which on this article on Perfume Shrine) so perfumer Sophie Labbé turned her attention to ambrette seed for a little intimacy (it's a natural source of musks), jasmine for a floral heart and cedar for a Laconic, dependable base; or the "neo-lily" as the press material would want us to believe. Briefly speaking, Beauty by Calvin Klein doesn't really smell of any of these components. Probably because these are fantasy notes meant to evoke a feeling rather than a photorealistic representation. Its intent is to follow the path of best-selling Beautiful by Lauder, minus the stigma of "old" which an 80s fragrance would risk producing, and to capture the attention of late 30s-early 40s women who secretly love Daisy by Marc Jacobs but find its "just washed my hair & put a plastic flower on it" contraption too young for them. It's also intended for an audience who shy away from the "dirty" indoles (molecules naturally hidding in white flowers) ~an idea which incidentally Jacobs also tackled with his chaste Blush~ and those who are wary of offending people in the office space, yet want something that has a hint of feminine personality; not another brief splash of eunuch citrus or a super-clean musk that passes as fabric softener... In those regards Beauty succeeds.

The scent of Beauty by Calvin Klein overall projects like a soapy fresh, peachy and somewhat green tuberose/jasmine in the mould of Do Son by Diptyque or Voile de Jasmin by Bulgari with the requisite "clean musk, clean wood" drydown with only a hint of vanillic sweetness: the concept of a fresh floral jasmine scent with a wink of synth lily . Only whereas the charming rural iconography of Diptyque and its Vietnamesque inspiration provided a plausible excuse for a timid, beginner's tuberose lost in the bamboo shoots of the jungle, the much more impressive (and yes, urbanely elegant in its brushed aluminum) bottle of Beauty ~fronted by model/actress Diane Kruger no less~ predisposes for more, so you're kinda left hanging there... You can find an inexpensive and pleasant jasmolactone-based fragrance similar to this one in Sonia Kashuk's Gardenia No.1, as well as in several body products and shower gels advertised as boasting fresh jasmine or gardenia notes ~the latter also based on jasmolactone molecules (you can also detect the accord in Labbé's own refined "gardenia", Cruel Gardenia for Guerlain's boutique exclusives). So, it all depends on whether you like the CK bottle enough to purchase. In this card game, I'm afraid we've been redealt.