Halston Classic: fragrance review & footnote on Netflix

 Adapted from the 1991 book Simply Halston by Steven Gaines, a TV mini-series of five episodes was ordered by Netflix in September 2019, and it premiered on May 14, 2021, starring Ewan McGregor in the eponymous role of Roy Halston Frowick. The man who invented himself came from a dreadful Midwestern background, a childhood spent in a farmhouse with an abusive father who yelled, and a mother who was cheered up by the boy's own handicraft, a feathered hat. So he started as a milliner. Much like Chanel, for that matter. As exhibition curator Patricia Mears notes on Halston's style, “One of the great aspects of his success was his ability to balance beauty and modernity." Nowhere is this more evident than in his eponymous fragrance, Halston for Women, also referred to nowadays as Halston Classic.

(pic via)

 There is a great scene in episode three, Sweet Smell of Success, in which Halston sits down with a respected woman perfumer, called Adèle, played by Vera Farmiga, to talk about developing his first fragrance, Halston. He is asked to select things which are meaningful to him. In the script, the designer selects orchids, because they're beautiful; tobacco, because he's constantly drawing from a cigarette; and his lover's jockstrap, because he's a semi-closeted gay man. (We're even shown the alleged perfumer sniff the used jockstrap deeply at some point...) At the time, the lover referred to was Victor Hugo, a Venezuelan student who arrived at Halston's studio to work as an assistant, and who became his lover for a decade.

But great as the perfume-making scene might be dramatically, giving a glimpse into the consulting process with a client—replete with tiny bottles of essences and blotters being dipped into them and sniffed—it fails to convey the true spirit of the fragrance in question. It was a tall order no doubt, as a passing mention of three things that seem to serve as symbols, rather than tales in themselves, is no more revealing than the fragrance industry's recent tendency to drop three notes to consumers and expect them to get crazy over their newest launch. There was definitely ground for exploration and tense dramatic antithesis, serving as a psychological outlet for the hero, letting us glimpse his repressed emotions, but it's mainly that. There is no really controversial element in the actual perfume, as I recall. It's actually one of the starchiest and loveliest of the classic chypres of the 1970s.

 The formula was developed with one of the truly greats, but not by a woman—by a man. Bernard Chant is a legendary perfumer at IFF, who is revered for the majority of Aramis men's fragrances and most Estee Lauder women's fragrances, from the starchy aldehydic Estee to the big floral Beautiful, as well as seminal chypre fragrances such as Cabochard Gres, Clinique Aromatics Elixir, Imprevu Coty, and Lauren Ralph Lauren. Halston Classic was one that cemented his good taste and excellence of execution.

There is something creamy, warm, and intimate about Halston Classic, although one would never in a million years classify it as animalic. But it's definitely a product of its time, still relevant after all these years because it's streamlined, feels high class, and exudes good taste. One can never offend in Halston, but it's much more memorable than innocuous "office friendly fragrances." The oakmoss, while there, is never in your face, much like the case with Caleche, making it an easy-to-adopt woody chypre, even for chypre-phobics.

Official perfume notes for Halston for Women (Halston Classic)

Top notes: Green Leaves, Mint, Melon, Bergamot, and Peach
Middle notes: Marigold, Carnation, Cedar, Orris Root, Rose, Jasmine, and Ylang-Ylang
Base notes: Oakmoss, Amber, Vetiver, Incense, Patchouli, Sandalwood, and Musk

Hermes 24 Faubourg: fragrance review

Named after the famed "faux bourg" rue of Faubourg Saint-Honoré in the 8eme arrondisement in Paris, where the headquarters of the Dumas-family luxury house are situated, 24, Faubourg was immersed in luxury from the very beginning; to the manor born.

Like many perfume lovers I'm not averse to luxury per se. Luxury and luxuria pose an interesting thought; luxuria is the Latin name for...lust. One of the 7 deadly sins. Luxury lovers do lust over the objects of their desire, do they not?  Desire is sparked by lack. Lack creates eros, the urge to fill the lack, the platonic ideal of uniting two parts that once made a whole. It's a metaphorical concept. Explains why brands keep us on our toes searching for the part that's missing!

In rebelliousness against social class and perhaps due to anti-snobbism on my part (or is it just plain snobbism in reverse, I sometimes wonder?) I have refrained from conscious overt exhibition of the insignia of wealth and embracing the lowly and the humble on purpose. Look at that drugstore item, isn't it fabulous? And that Zara fragrance at a fraction of the cost of a designer one, yet made by Puig just the same? Who needs logos and frou frou, it's the quality in things that matters. The axiom of Coco Chanel has always guided me. It'd be quite inelegant to hang a 50 carat diamond from one's neck, as surely as it'd be gauche to hang a check from it. So why indulge in the luxuria of capitalism? Wanting more, exhibiting more?

I have been perfectly happy going for my esoteric woody incenses for everyday wear. People usually don't even ascribe the aromas emanating from my humble person as "perfume", even when they like them. It's not like Coco Mademoiselle, "hey, you're wearing perfume". I suppose it's like I just left Vespers or something or have been spending a lot of time at the library, which is not unusual come to think of it. I'm also big on white florals and on spicy orientals, though these have a harder time passing under the radar of "perfume awareness". Not that it really bothers me if they do make people notice. After all, many a time a potent scent has sparked an interesting conversation. People united by scent are people united at breath, it's a powerful connection.

The scent of 24, Faubourg is floral, undeniably floral, white floral drenched in honeyed tones, to be exact, not just "a floral".  It's the floral to end all florals, and yet it's not only floral. In its elaborate, Byzantine bouquet I can detect resins, balsams, fruit (fuzzy peaches and tangy citruses), a soft powderiness of orris, some wood, something intangible, something aching to overreach...Sounds like everything and the kitchen sink (same thought with the original feminine Boucheron ) and yet it is not that in effect. Instead, a perfectly judged, lush, satisfying, calorific, dare I say it, yes, I will, RICH effect comes out of that lovely bottle shaped like a carré silk scarf that the Dumas house is famous the world over for.
Although the orange blossom and the jasmine and the (rather less copious in the mix) gardenia owe as much to analytical chemistry as they owe to nature's laboratory, the experience feels like a silken thread woven by some exotic insect with beautiful wings in an engulfing tropical greenhouse.
The allusion to the sun is nowhere more evident than in the advertising images which reflect the golden, ambery aura of the scent. I wrote before that "solar notes" stand for warmth and luminosity and although this is not especially salicylates-focused, it does smell snuggly and jovial and reminiscent of the touch of the sun.

Perfect for the Indian Summer days and evenings we're going through then!

Chypre series 4: aesthetics

Previously on this series we mentioned briefly that chypres have apparently fallen out of favour in late years, with the exception of the very new "modern" ones discussed. And we pointed out that this is due to the differentiation in ingredients listed, but it must be accounted to something else as well.
After all Jacques Polge attempted to create a new breed of chypre without oakmoss in his 31 rue Cambon for Chanel Les Exclusifs, using a novel accord of iris and pepper. We could mention in passing that this had been reported by dr.Luca Turin a long time ago and I seriously doubt that had it not (and consequently heavily discussed) most people would accurately discern the nuances of those exact two notes. Because yes, 31 rue Cambon is very well-crafted and it seams a textured veil of soie sauvage that is quite different than the orientalised brocade of Coromandel or the chiffons of the rest of Les Exclusifs. One or two of course might profer the opinion that it is not as revolutionary as lauded in its final result, which is what matters most to the wearer anyway, but that would divert us from the point of today's article.

The matter is that chypres (and 31 rue Cambon among them, hence the inclusion) smell very different than the rest of the fragrant families. This is definitely a matter of aesthetics which might attract or repel anyone who tentatively opens this Pandora's box of perfumers' temperas; colours which they love to use, abuse and even distort to create nuanced recreations of abstract pictures that do not resemble anything in particular. If floral perfumes try to catch in some greater or lesser degree a glimpse of fragrant bouquets unfurling and fields in bloom, if citrus perfumes evoke the first bright days of summer and the joys of downing a frozen glass of sparkly, tangy liquid and if orientals make us visualise opulent maharanhis in their palaces adorned with heavy jewels and burning aromatic resins, chypres do not aim to offer a visual subtext to their message. Although they usually get described as mossy, earthy, deep and often damp -like the forest floor of an autumnal day- it is equally valid to note that they offer a smooth result in which none of the seperate notes raises itself in a high-pitched falsetto voice over the others, but they all work in a choral unison of unprecedented discipline and beauty. The notes blurr and blead into each other like watercolours on the canvas. But their finalised effect is usually not very much in tune with watercolours in their feel. They are more solid, substantial, offering great depth and dimension much like the oils on a J.M.W.Turner naval depiction. You feel the smoothness and sumptuousness of them as you apply them on your skin and this is their characteristic that accounts for profound and deep-seated love or hate towards them among perfume wearers.

Chypres also project a level of confidence in themselves. In this regard they share this quality with several orientals; but whereas orientals have a foot in Freudian notions of childhood attachements, since this is a category that is using elements that recall memories of comfort and nourishement (especially in recent years with the emergence of the subcategory of parfums gourmands) such as vanilla and culinary spices, chypres project a more cerebral attitude. They are frequently viewed as extremely sophisticated, whereas orientals might not be as much, and their wearer is often seen as a specimen of womanhood who would partake of The Financial Times on a regular basis. At least this is what the dominant perception is among the general and not so general public.
As Julia Muller in The Haarman & Reimer Book of Perfume notes:

"These perfume users {chypre users} view themselves as being harmonious, well-balanced individuals, who rarely have unhappy or depressive moods. All in all, they are satisfied with themselves and with their lives. They are realistic in their thinking and put less stock in their luck and more in their own deeds."

Perfume consultants attribute those characteristics to a group they term "Extrovert and emotionally stable", which if one dabbles in such things is represented by a special quadrant in the psychological test for perfume choosing known as the Colour Rosette Test.
According to Leffinwell (click here):

"In the color rosette test, the test subject selects from seven different color combinations the one that she likes best. If she chooses more than one rosette, she is asked to pick which of the two appeals most to her. A woman who picks the color combination of yellow, orange, red and pale green, for example, is not only extraverted, active, optimistic and positive – she’ll also tend to prefer fresh floral fragrance notes. Women with a preference for subdued, pastel-like hues like purple or colors like blue-black and mauve, on the other hand, tend to be introverted and pensive. They are likely to want Oriental scents. On the other hand, if the test subject has an equal preference for two color rosettes, she finds perfume creations interesting that unite both corresponding types of fragrances".

If nothing more, this generalisation is fun to peruse and might reveal some hidden aspects of psychology that might or might not bear any relevance to our psyche. There is even a section devoted to men!
For the full test click here.

There is also a more superficial element nevertheless to chypres and their perceived message. Often the very french word chic surfaces in conversations among people into perfume when discussing chypres. Perfume Shrine had discussed the concept of chic in perfumery previously and you can access the article clicking here. As you can see, chypres feature prominently in that notion, exactly because of their manufactured character that does not try to mimic nature but rather to interpret it through the lens of an intelligent human mind.
Sartorial choices therefore follow suit (and there is a pun in this!):

"In their desired lifestyle, these women do not have any interest in keeping up with fashion, in all of its varied manifestations. They love to look well cared for, and their clothing must always be suited to the occasion. In all matters, especially in the case of clothing, they display a pronounced sense of quality. Basically, there are not many very young women in this group of perfume users.”

(by Julia Muller)

Those elements discussed above might hold the secret to why recent years have been the tombstone on chypres. In a world revolving around air-headed celebrities who cannot read a book of chick-lit, let alone The Financial Times and in which low rise jeans stoop to down there revealing crass G-strings with fake Swarovski rhinestones, the attributes of classic chypre perfumes seem almost alien. And therefore shunned in favour of more complacent concoctions that might take shelf space at your local Sephora from those illustrious chypres of yore.



Stay tuned for a Titan of a legend reviewed in the upcoming posts and for analysis on the chronology of chypres in relation to the zeitgeist!

Pic of maison Dior courtesy of gettyimages, pic of Colour Rosette from Leffinwell