I was questioning myself what I have worn most during this crazy summer and why. The tallying up was funny, in an anal retentive way, since making a list before a certain arbitrarily set period of time has come to a close can only be explained by the need to put method to one's madness. But if you're following these pages, you might be just as mad yourself (mad about sensual pleasures, about analyzing patterns and Lacanian subtexts and about lists too), so it might not be too boring to share I hope.
Please share what you have worn yourselves so far this summer in the comments, as it makes for very interesting reading during my weekend when I'll be by the seashore at a small fishing village no busier than applying Bain de Soleil sunscreens, Mayday by Dior on my lips and Phytoplage conditioner on my hair.
Hermes Un Jardin sur le Nil~ because choosing a fragrance when it's 38C outside is a tall order, one needs something that works for sure.
Neela Vermeira Mohur EDP~there is something about this rosy gourmand musky marvel which keeps me hooked. There is both an eau de parfum (delicious and very wearable) and a diva-like Mohur extrait de parfum version. If you've been scared of roses due to ebullient ones likeParis by YSL or by old-fashioned ones like Tea Rose (Perfumer's Workshop), give Mohur a must try!
Caron Alpona ~the citrus element keeps it from becoming too dense, the inherent Caron "weirdness" (said in the best possible way) is perfect when everyone else is in Light Blue by D&G or Aqua di Gioia by Armani.
Shiseido Koto EDC ~one needs something green and mossy without going too green and mossy.
Piguet Bandit EDP ~nothing speaks of too green and mossy like this one. Right when it's sweltering hot and sweaty it performs the best! Very sexy too in a totally unconventional way.
Tom Ford Neroli Portofino~latest craze for days when I want to emulate the Ligurian lifestyle, this captures it perfectly. Perfect with a navy striped matellot blouse, drawstring flowing pants and a traditional men's straw hat!
Chanel Antaeus EDT~ever since receiving a lavish compliment from my man (and a wink in his eye) on this masculine cologne, I have come to rely on it for adventurous nights and promising getaways. Should be keeping company to Yatagan (Caron) and Kouros (YSL) on the shelf for the sexiest androgynous perfume options.
I realize these are mostly "oldies", which isn't meant to imply I didn't discover new things which took my fancy (I did, just look for my Aedes Oeillet Bengale and Serge Lutens L'Orpheline reviews in the posts). But, you see, I haven't yet bought anything more than a decant of the newer stuff, so they should probably be in the autumn list, as soon as the time rolls; à tout à l'heure!
Come on, tell me the things that made you click this summer!
The tomatoes have just sprouted; the sun had bathed the nascent roots, the soil had fondled them, moist, warm and fertile. Uncle beckoning us children to the field: "come, eat, fresh from the vine!" Some water, cut in two, the mouth bursting with the flavours of sweet and slightly sour, full of aroma unreplicated in any bought variety. Cucumbers sliced, the fresh, sweet smell permeting the kitchen. The small leaves off the tomato vine are kept for marinades and sprinkling over feta cheese. Folavril. Basil pots on the window ledge. Olive trees all around, shadowing over the dining table, olives on the table in endless varieties: big and blue-black like a bruise, bitter-salty from the brine; small black and wrinkly and very sweet; almond-shaped Kalamata ones, with glistening skins and fatty-bitter taste; green ones looking almost raw, the pit substituted by a whole blanched almond. We accompany with an aromatic Robola wine. Santa Maira Novela Mavrorachi and Sienne l'Hiver transported to a tiny Greek island across the Holy Monastic Mountain of Athos. Cicadas singing incessantly throughout noon and the heat is rising, vehicles coming closer with that "liquid" motion we see on the silver screen when they cross the endless American roads of the west. The turmac is almost melting, the big blue calling, only a fea minutes' drive away on the island. Solace inside a cool white church, fanning oneself with a Spanish fan, putting some ice-soaked hankerchief on the forehead and nape of the neck. Walls smelling of old fresco stucco, remnants of frankincense and melted wax from the beeswax candles put in bronze-bordered sand trays for the pious. Silence.... The old priest, tall and dressed in by now faded black takes off his kalimafhi from his head and sits down, wrought with the heat. He offers us almonds and sour cherries in suryp with a smile: the "spoon sweets" which greeted visitors at even the humblest house, chased by a glass of ice-cold water. Braced, we begin our journey to the edge of the island, all the way to Palaiochora searching for the small fragments of the fort that pirate Hayreddin Barbarossa destroyed in 1539. The countryside is chaotically scattered with wild herbs, thyme, oregano, bay, chamomile, sage, labdanum; we roll the car windows down and inhale deeply this humble marvel of nature. L'Eau Trois, Sables.
Nudists at the "baths" of the Neda river in the south Peloponnese. The foliage in the trees is rustling. The scent of moist soil, the fallen dead leaves mush on the ground. The wind is changing, autumn is coming quickly. Someone is playing melancholic greek songs on the baglama. Pin resin, Fille en Aiguilles.
The children are rolling on bicycles in Keffalonia central square, their silhouettes a dark contrast on the fuschia walls. Housewives are baking baklava, the spices of cinnamon, clove and nutmeg in the air. Some kids are dripping with mastic "submarine" (a dollop of mastic and glycose paste into a glass of cold water and licked off). 06310 Lentisque. Dip in the Aegean sea, salt still remaining on the skin, I can almost lick it off, it's so dense! The laziness of the sun making our limps become putty. The barren rocky terrain scattered with immortelle flowers, dry and dusty. I take a fat piece of watermelon off my bag and a chunck of salty feta cheese kept on a block of ice to cut the sweetness; the sticky red juice is dribling down my chin and on the top of my bikini, mingling with my sweat and my Ambre Solaire, but I don't care. The seaside taverna has already put octopi on the rope, drying them out before they get marinated and smoked for dinner. The salty, inky aroma is wafting thanks to the breeze and the coals are set: the smoky, stinky trail whets my appetite; I'm longing for the anise flavour of ouzo to accompany my fried calamari. I'm longing to have my tanned back caressed by the one awaiting me.
A local is washing the white floor squeeky clean. My eyes dazzle from the reflected white. The sugarcube maze of the town is blindingly white! Greek coffee prepared on the hot sand stove, with lots of kaimak. The table setting simple and chic. The coffee powder remainings crunchy on the tongue before overturning the small demitasse so that the debris drips, its dried out patterns used to tell one's destiny. "You will be successful, you will find love..."
Branches of figs engulf everything with their thick shadow. Their milky sap is still bitter, an edge of coconut smell, the leaves are wide and dusty; they look dusty even if you have just washed them, they feel dusty. We pick the fruit to see whether it's edible, the small sacs haven't really become heavy with those scattered little seeds. Disappointment. The seeds which Minoan inhabitants of Akrotiri, Santorini, used to eat before the great volcano eruption in 1500BC. We contemplate eternity, weary after overlooking another excavation. Philosykos, Premier Figuier, and Un Jardin en Mediterranee. Tall cypresses flanking the cool catacombs in Tripiti on the Milos island, the mineral dryness of Eau de Gentiane Blanche.
The stars are shinning brightly on a pitch black sky, so clear and transparent, you think you can reach out your hand and seize them. The air around is full with the concentrated, heady scent of jasmine vines, A la Nuit. First kisses in the cobblestone alleys, under the rampant bougainvillas, the intoxication of budding love filling the mind. Lovers embracing fondly, tenderly, promising the stars under the bright moon, as deep yellow golden and shiny in August like a konstantinato. Sex on the beach late at night before the break of sun, like the first people on earth. Like the only people on earth...The eternal romance of the Mediterranean and of Greece.
Clip from the Greek film "Epiheirisis Apollon", 1968 or "Apollo Goes on Holiday" 1968 directed by George Skalenakis with Elena Nathanael, Thomas Fritsch, Athinodoros Prousalis etc.
Clip from the Greek film Gorgones kai Mages (Mermaids and Tough Guys) 1968, directed by Yiannis Dalianidis starring Mary Hronopoulou and Lakis Komnenos.
Was this my life, or did I dream it? That seemingly rhetorical question might drive one crazy given sufficient circumstances. After all, isn't all life, "is all we see and seem but a dream within a dream?" like Poe used to say. Or as the ancient Greeks poetically put it: "οναρ σκιας ανθρωπος" (man is but a shadow's dream).
My thoughts revert to these aphorisms, as I converge Opium by Yves Saint Laurent and Sergio Leone's swansong masterpiece,Once upon a time in America in my mind.My proclivities to the fragrance being a given and my fondness for that final enigmatic scene in which De Niro is beatifically smiling through the somnolent haze of opium vapors, it was natural to be so; if only because, like the drug, Opium is to be worn lying down. Pilgrimage was sorely lacking till now and the Gods have been accusing me of hubris for too long.
History of YSL Opium Perfume
Yves Saint Laurent was at the zenith of his career when he envisioned a decadent, baroque perfume evoking the exotic Orient: "It will be the greatest perfume of them all and we will call it Opium", he said, perhaps with a sideways wink to his own path to hallucinogenics' addiction. The year when the concept was conceived was 1972. It would take another 5 years for it to come to fruition.
The scent was composed by Jean Louis Sieuzac (Sonia Rykiel, Dune, the re-issue of Madame Rochas) in 1977 and art-directed by Chantal Roos, while the vermilion flacon was designed by Pierre Dinand.
Originally the name that Squibb, the American parent company of parfums Saint Laurent, wanted to christen the fragrance was Black Orchid, the same that Tom Ford later grabbed almost 30 years later for his own foray into perfume for what he hoped to be an equally controversial landmark.
Opium was in many ways a landmark: Its fragrance although tracing its lineage to great orientals of the past such as Shalimar, Habanita, Youth Dew and even Tabu (with its carnation-civet accord of "parfum de puta"), was perhaps the first to enter into the floriental category, with its very much detectable carnation, orange blossom and ylang-ylang among the plush of effulgent spice and starched resins, of which oppoponax stars. But also due to the fact that it broke with the previous trends of independent chypres and soft aldehydics, bringing back the orientals which had been forgotten since their last stint during the 20s and 30s and thus inaugurating the fashions for them again, resulting in everyone producing one from Coco, Poison, Ysatis, Boucheron Femme , all the way to Loulou.
Its launch party, at a junk in Manhattan's East River, with orientalised canopies and matching decor, marked the first time such opulence was applied to a fragrance's issue and ignited a series of mega-launches that were to become de rigeur. Its campaign, provocatively proclaiming "for those addicted to Yves Saint Laurent", earned it serious controversy in certain countries: A peanut-growing premier in Queensland, Australia had the perfume banned in his state. The US Federal Justice Department tried to outlaw it. In other countries due to drug import laws it had to be imported under a pseudonym, like contraband, and relabelled within the country.Its subsequent status of a bestseller proved that all the obstacles were within its stride and that man (and woman) is really a creature desiring what seems unattainable.
Bottle Design: the Oriental Inro
The bottle has a no less interesting tale surrounding it. According to Dinand's autobiography, he was working on a stylized inro, the small wooden box samurais carry on their belts, full of little drawers where herbs, spices and opium for alleviating the pain from their wounds are kept. The little drawers are held together by strings (hence the resulting tassel on the Opium bottle) and the top is crowned with a sculpted ball, called netsuke, replicated in the cap. "That's it!" said Saint Laurent, as soon as he saw it and fixed his mind on calling it Opium, the rest being history. The advertising had always been titillating, starting with sprawled Jerry Hall, progressing to an unknown red-head (pictured above), through to Kate Moss and Sophie Dahl infamously in the nude (therefore banned but you can see it by clicking the link). Currently Malgosia Bela fronts the ad prints.
Lauder had been secretly working on their own spicy oriental, mysteriously also in a vermilion bottle, named after a mercury mineral found in China and smelling close to Opium,Cinnabar, which launched only weeks later. Yet they never had such commercial success with it, a fact that is treated with silence when you point it out to them. Whether there had been some form of trade espionage has never been proven and is only a figment of speculation.
Scent Description
Baptising yourself in Opium amounts to owning a droplet of the Styx, imparting invulnerability, shunning your combination sinners -- your lecherous liars and your miserly drunkards -- who dishonor the vices and bring them into bad repute. It speaks the tongue of angels through the wiles of devils, fanning its brocade-like resins over your humble existence, marring the opulent flowers and the bright citruses (bergamot, lemon and the orange-tinged essence of coriander) by a contaminated hand of animalistic sin. I can't distinguish any of its constituent parts separately, as they merge into a tremendously forceful message of abandon and escapism from the vagaries of life. Was it my life or did I dream it?
The iron-pressed linen note of the aldehydes in the beginning gives off -coupled with the spicy bite of the carnation accord- a rather "clean" veneer, which allows Opium the distinction of being among the easiest orientals to carry without feeling all soiled underneath your dress. The plumminess is closly interwoven with the balsams in the drydown phase, when the fragrance has dried on the skin and only its whispered message remains; quite woods, trickly resins like benzoin, labdanum and opoponax with an animalic darkness to them from the small footnote of pungent, bitter castoreum in the far end.
Opium never fails to bring forth compliments every single time I wear it and it is the robe de guerre on every occasion where ample backbone is required or a new acquaintance is going to take place. People never identify it as such and always ask what is that magnificent fragrance emanating. Sometimes it's perversely fun to see faces fall when I reveal the true identity, other times it only makes me think long and hard about over saturation of a particular scent in the collective unconscious and the detriment that brings to a whole generation who formed bad associations through it being ubiquitous.
Opium Summer Editions and Comparison of Concentrations My preferred form is the Eau de toilette, which highlights the spicy bite and the moribund balsams perfectly, although the extrait de parfum is another excellent choice. The Secret de Parfum which had circulated at some point during the early 90s in a cut-out bottle from hard plastic in a hue darker than the original flacon was a concentration that turned me off Eau de Parfum (to which it amounted) . Luckily that error in judgment on the part of YSL Parfums has been amended and the current version of Eau de Parfum is merely denser and more opaque, although still true to the scent. The body products in the range are some of the best I have tried in terms of both fidelity to the scent (they have a slightly pronounced orange note which is very agreeable) and texture which melts under your caress. Men have also been catered for through a men's version that is woodier and more aromatic but also rather spicy, Opium pour homme. As a faithful Opium wearer for years I can attest to it being relatively the same despite possible reformulation. If eugenol however becomes seriously restricted -as has been discussed- then it would risk severe disfigurement. {edit to add, June 2010: Alas, it has...}
In later years, many lighter summer versions launched, as limited editions, aiming at making Opium fit for summer-wear and largely succeeding: Summer Fragrance (2002), Eau d'Eté(2004), Fleur de Shanghai(2005), Fleur Impériale(2006),Orchidée de Chine(2007),Poésie de Chine (2008). My personal favourite is Fleur de Shangai among them, replicated closely in the latest version. This trend might have started by the non-limited, non-alcoholic Opium Fraicheur d'Orient, which got issued for summer in the mid-90s and which introduced a note from Angel and an intense citrus into the composition, to no particular pleasure derived. A limited edition bottle is Opium Orient Extreme from 2007, which only changes the exterior, not the scent. Various collector's bottles and versions will continue to get made. As long as it captures the imagination of perfume worshippers at its altar. Notes: Top: aldehydes,plum,pepper, tangerine, coriander,bergamot, lemon Heart: clove, jasmine, cinnamon, rose, peach, orris, myrrh, ylang ylang Base: benzoin, patchouli, oppoponax, cedar, sandalwood, labdanum, castoreum, musk, vanilla
Perfume Shrine presents you a glimpse of the upcoming lists of top fragrances for summer. Never too early to get prepared in the perfume stakes! In the new issue of Allure magazine (page 134) Frédéric Malle recommends some of his fave summer scents:
Cristalle by Chanel Eau de Fleurs de Cédrat by Guerlain Armani Eau Pour Homme with notes of lemon, basil, oakmoss Light Blue by Dolce & Gabanna Eau Sauvage by Dior Pleasures by Lauder Diorella by Dior Lys Méditerranée by Malle Cologne Bigarade by Malle Eau du Ciel by Annick Goutal
The punchline? "The smell of the ocean, lemon paired with greens, and lilies are a few of Malle's favorites for summer." As reflected in his fragrant choices obviously, agreeing or not. Which ones would you pick?
And because Friday should herald the joys of the weekend, a little diversion with a trully summery song for you, a big hit in Europe: Ville Vallo from HIM and the actress Natalia Avelon from the the "8 Mile High" film.
Next on Perfume Shrine: a niche line gets a detailed presentation, reviews of new scents and other wonderful surprises!
Pic of Greek beach sent to me by mail unaccredited.
In continuation of examining Chanel Les exclusifs a little bit closer, one cannot but notice that they are all inspired and drawing elements from olfactory creations past from the archives of the house. Bel Respiro is another similar case, as is 28 La Pausa -discussed yesterday- in its own way as well.
Named after one of Mlle. Chanel's houses on the outskirts of Paris Bel Respiro is meant "to evoke stems, leaves and springtime". Does it succeed in this endeavour? It does in part. It draws inspiration by the verdancy of both Chanel#19 and some aspects of Cristalle, especially in the eau de parfum formulation (which incidentally was meant as a completely different interpretation of the theme of the old Eau de toilette by the addition of floral elements such as honeysuckle and lily of the valley, advertised with the tag line "Cristalle grows up!" when it launched in 1993). Even the vetiver drydown of Chance is making a hushed appareance, which in my opinion is Chance's one redeeming quality and the reason it just escapes from being irrecovably linked to my mind to images of teen girls sucking on a fruity lollipop.
The green bite of galbanum, a stemmy aroma that according to perfume guru Arctander evokes "green peppers or tossed green salad" is present lending a bracing start in the vein of Sisley's Eau de Campagne (devised by Jean Claude Ellena) or the classic Vent Vert by Germain Cellier. However the effect is much more timid in Bel Respiro, as if they are a little afraid to frighten the customer with too much of a herbal smell that would clash with their bourgeois attire. Despite that hesitation the start does evoke languid summer days, lying on the grass, the breeze through one's hair, not a care in the world.
This is soon betrayed by the homogenous sweetness that is prevalent in almost all of the new Exclusifs and is obeying to the dictatorship of the wearable. Of course for a scent to be wearable is not a fault per se. It's the relative lack of daring imagination that is a little disappointing to witness, because my expectations were so high. The sweetness is not unpleasant, it is classy with a promise of creaminess, however the lack of depth that is usually associated with creamy florals makes this pale and rather limp, as if it features an aqueous quality that I thought had been long abandoned (but I guess is not). It also gives the impression of a sweet posy of hyacinths subtly smelled across the numerous rooms of a grand mansion, decaying slowly in their vase. Don't get me wrong, I like a slight hint of decay and death in floral fragrances, but in this particular case the discrepancy between herbal opening and sweet drydown does not excite me. The minimalism displayed in the whole line is not convicing in its bouquet.
Chanel #19 and Cristalle in eau de parfum (also by Polge) succeed much more in marrying the deep emerald accords with the lush florancy, giving complexity and substance that sadly Bel respiro lacks. If Bel Respiro had that divine quality which I am seeking it would resemble the luminous feathered tail of a peacock.
It is not a bad fragrance; in fact if I had to choose, I think along with 28 La Pausa and Coromandel (contrary to my initial unsniffed expectations), they would be safe choices that correspond to most of my lifestyle's situations I envision them to be worn. However, to tell you the truthm I am not so keen on purchasing a full bottle of Bel Respiro simply for the reason that I am deeply enamoured of Chanel#19 which satisfies me on every possible level. Nice try, however!
Art photography by Chris Borgman courtesy of his site
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