Thierry Mugler Alien Goddess: fragrance review

The Thierry Mugler news announcement for Alien Goddess, the latest fragrance in the Alien collection, was met with more eyebrows raised on the choice of Willow Smith, daughter of Hollywood actors Will Smith and Jada Pinkett Smith, than the anticipation for the next chapter in the beste-selling Alien saga by Thierry Mugler. The brand admitted they targeted Generation Z — a younger population yet to meet Mugler as a brand — with their choice. She was asked "to embody this new vision of femininity that is strong, powerful, inclusive, and edgy," as reported by the brand. Nevertheless, smelling the new fragrance and seeing the visuals, I see nothing strong (it's much weaker than usual Mugler fare, which are dynamite), nor powerful, nor edgy.

The expectation of a very impressive fragrance is rather lost on us, although the formula smells OK. I'm sure it will gather compliments; unlike Aura, Mugler's previous pillar launch, which is so divisive that people either love it with a passion or hate its oddly green, sweet tentacles. Alien is also met with opinionated detractors and fervent fans alike. 

The composition based on the ever popular "tropical, sunscreen lotion smelling perfume accord" is built on flowers like tiare gardenia (which contains esters giving a fruity nuance) and possibly a bit of frangipani/plumeria, with the crucial bit being a hint of lactonic perfume notes like coconut (γ-decalactone) or better yet, the effect of coconut milk (Guerlain's Coconut Fizz is spectacular in this one). And this whole notion bears as little relation to Mugler as possible. His Amazons do not sunbathe. They're in the desert of an alien planet.

Mugler's  Alien Goddess is faring better in that tropical department, as it's not at all stifling and stuffy, as some of its category are. It's actually pretty delicate, maybe too delicate, fresh like pineapple slices, and balanced in the sugary department, especially for a representative of Thierry's collection of mega-bombs. I suppose L'Oreal has been somewhat diluting the density, adjusting the standards with the rest of the market aimed at kids brought up on their mothers' fruity-florals during the 2000s.

It's really OK for a tropical composition, with a vanilla embrace that is immersed in clean, creamy musk. Soft really, and very inoffensive — airy, never too much, but in a way this negates the brand ethos. So there you have it: A bit not good in a rather predictable mix. If you awaited Lilith, she's not coming to dinner...

Aftelier Cuir de Gardenia: fragrance review

"And at night I love to listen to the stars. It's like five hundred million little bells. [...]"You...you alone will have the stars as no one else has them....only you will have stars that can laugh."
~Antoine de Saint Exypery, Le Petit Prince.

Cuir de Gardenia, gardenia's leather. It is my tendency to focus on names, believing that they carry their own wisdom. So coming across this enigmatic coinage I couldn't help but pause and think, maybe lost a bit into my own lethologica. The leathery facets of gardenia, a flower becoming skin-like, the hide of an animal thrown atop tender skin. Yes, it sounded sexy as hell. Is sexy all there is when it comes to perfumes though?

Working with gardenia for a perfumer presents its own challenges. The flower doesn't yield a sufficient or steadily available extract (though there is one in extremely limited quantities) so an approximation is conducted through the synergy of pliable materials; doubly difficult when sourcing only off the natural palette. Of those, I sense the generous use of jasmine, with its lactonic and green facets highlighted, in Aftelier's Cuir de Gardenia; they produce an at once fresh and creamy variation on the gardenia theme, a sort of Pur Desir de Gardenia meets Hedy Lammar.
The mossy element in the base suggests that this deceptive floral hides a more introspective core beneath its veneer and it's worth waiting for it to surface beyond the delicious flower atop.

Artisanal perfumer Mandy Afteler did use a tiare flower absolute from a small producer (tiare is the Tahitian gardenia), which accounts for the more exotic and, yes, the "creamy smelling" feel you get upon testing this bewitching fragranc. The candied aspects meet the roughness of castoreum (an animalic note traditionally used in leather blends). She also mentions ethyl phenyl acetate, which although is usually rendering a rosy not in perfumes, here she describes it as lending a whiff of sweet peas. The liquid version of Cuir de Gardenia is oily, lending a softer ambience, but it doesn't feel oily, it absorbs quickly and well.

I did not find a huge stonking beat of leathery butchness, nor a dark, dangerous, skanky gardenia that would shriek Norma Desmond like off the vial (for a different take read Gaia's The Non Blonde's review), but then neither did I expect to: Cuir de Gardenia isn't a "cuir" per se, it's an illusion of an animal turned into a flower. If anything, it's more musky than leathery. It's a daydream, a waxy memento of sensuality hidden in a drawer for a rainy day, the feeling of physical happiness. It's a matutine moment stolen, when you can hear the stars laugh.

Aftelier's Cuir de Gardenia is available in liquid extrait de parfum and solid versions, on the official Aftelier eboutique. Although natural perfumes come at an increased cost per ml compared to commercial perfumes (even niche), I find that the options of owning minis and solids are a lovely way to get a feel of the work of artisans in the field.

The Fragranta Man has some interesting info on the sourcing of the materials. 

In the interests of disclosure I was sent a sample by the perfumer. 

Le Labo Ylang 49: fragrance review

Ylang 49, newly launched by Le Labo this summer, is more treacherous to its assumed floral disposition and deceptively crepuscular: like murder-experienced, gold-digging, vacationing in Hawaii for one last trick Theresa Russell in 1987's "Black Widow", there's a bit of that Seattle rainy weather she just escaped from accompanying her sunny blonde exterior. The fruity sweetness of the ylang and the tropical tiare gardenia (the Tahitian Pua Noa Noa) are underscored by a green and resinous backdrop rich in mossy, earthy tones, that casts a long, long shadow.

Perfumer Frank Voelkl, who was also involved in the creation of Le Labo Santal 33 Iris 39, Musc 25 and Baie Rose 26, created with Ylang 49 a deceptive composition that zigs when you expect it to zag. Not exactly the "New Chypre it's touted to be (we're a long way from the perfume-y, lady-like, strict ambience of the classic chypres), it's all the same further removed from the scrubbed 18-year-old faces of the "floral woody musks" with their cleaned-up patchouli & vetiver under fluorescent florals that we affectionally call "nouveau or pink chypres" on these pages (you know, Narciso for Her, SJP Lovely, Idylle, L'Eau de Chloe, Chypre Fatal etc).

Not the typical ylang floral with jasmine-like sweetness (an inherent part of the ylang ylang absolute itself), much like Theresa Russell isn't your typical blonde American actress, I'm instead discovering a richly nuanced tapestry in Ylang 49 where every thread is shimmering with full conviction that they're contributing to the mysterious whole, just like the tiny clues federal agent Alex Barnes, obsessed and under the seductive spell of the murderess, collects to get to the heart of the Black Widow's fatal game.

Just great!

Notes for Le Labo Ylang 49:
Ylang ylang, Tahitian gardenia, patchouli, oakmoss, vetiver, sandalwood, benzoin

Stills from the 1987 Bob Raffelson film noir "Black Widow" (recommended) via thefancarpet.com

Disclosure: I was a sample directly by the company. 

L'Artisan Parfumeur Batucada: new fragrance

L'Artisan Parfumeur turns to perfumers Karine Vinchon and Elizabeth Maier (after a long stint with Bertrand Duchaufour) for their newest fragrance Batucada, due out in October 2011. The upcoming release connects two perfumers, but also two diametrically different places of the world; Grasse in France and São Paulo in Brazil, according to their official ad copy.

Although Grasse is apparently touted as the origin of the finery of the composition's formula, it's Brazil which serves as the conceptual spatial reference; batucada is a subgenre of samba originating from Rio de Janeiro. It involves a percussionist ensemble (bateria) that is heavily influenced by the repetitive and fast style of African percussionists.

Batucada by L'Artisan Parfumeur is a unisex fragrance that involves several Brazilian-influenced notes, at least what is populary considered classic Brazilian references for foreigners: The top expecetdly mixes a Brazilian Caipirinha cocktail accord (lime, cachaça and mint leaves), while the heart evolves around floral notes of tiare and ylang ylang. The drydown consists of base notes of coconut water and marine notes with nuances of sea salt.
I do hope that they manage to surpass the lovely Bahiana (Maitre Parfumeur et Gantier) which went that route before. Otherwise, what's the point?

Batucada will be released as an Eau de Toilette in 3.4oz/100ml and 1.7z/50 ml this coming October at select doors who stock L'Artisan Parfumeur fragrances.

Ormonde Jayne Tiare: fragrance review

Radiant, yet weightless, Tiare radiates the sharp, bright light one notices reflected on sunny days in the northern extremities of the Northern Hemisphere rather than the tropical beaches evoked by the name (coming as it does from the national emblem of Tahiti). Possessing an arresting optimistic streak of intense hesperidic notes ~lime and mandarin~ along with shimmering, diamond-like florals in the heart, the composition of Tiare projects with an unexpected verdancy and a scintillating aldehydic shimmer akin to sipping champagne on ice. In its way a discombobulating fragrance, but all in the best possible sense!

With the citrus touches, the (unmentioned) lily of the valley sweetly-piercing floralcy, and the delightful white florals (green jasmine and a subtle budding gardenia/tiare note) underpinned by a mossy-woody base I feel I ought to be out hopping along in a brightly reddish-coloured tartan skirt, getting the kind of frivolous and topsy-turvy fun we see in 50s and 60s black & white photographs that requires a cunningly naughty (gay?) male friend, a well-decked bank account and a big dollop of sentir bien dans sa peau. The amazing thing about Ormonde Jayne's Tiare is that it manages to give that feeling even if you do not possess any of the above, instantly putting you in the brightest mood as if the world is your personal buffet and you're choosing your hors d'oeuvres with gusto!

Linda Pilkington, the founder and creator of Ormonde Jayne, has used Tiare Absolute from Tahiti (extracted in Tahiti, refined in the US and furthermore in France before it reaches the OJ studio in London). The process is labour-intensive: the Tiare flower is hand picked whilst still unopened and laid in oil for 15 days to extract the fragrance. “From the moment I first encountered Tiare, the search was on to find the purest oil extraction. Tiare is a flower that doesn’t give up its secrets easily and it took many different incarnations, finding a subtle progression from citrus to flower, before I felt that we had an exceptional perfume.[...] Like the woman who wears Tiare, this is a perfume that totally ignores seasons and the time of day, a perfume so artfully blended and infinitely refined... but with a dash of scintillating appeal".

While talking with Linda, among other fascinating stuff, she had intimated that in her youth she had been an enthusiastic perfume wearer who mixed Diorella and Eau Sauvage. With such illustrious specimens as amulets, it's not hard to see how the best elements of both have sneaked their way into her latest creation. The initial impression of Ormonda Jayne Tiare is similar to the one I get when spraying Cristalle by Chanel, the folding of mossiness and cool grass into hesperidia. The kinship is more pronounced with Cristalle's Eau de Parfum concentration, in which the floral heart shimmers underneath the sharper elements, lending creaminess and descreet sensuality. In Tiare the gardenia, ylang-ylang and jasmin take the role that in the former was reserved for honeysuckle, imparting a mild sweetness that never becomes too much. Another example of the delicious champagne-bubbles-feel I am getting would have been Miller Harris Fleur du Matin and lovers of either scent are strongly urged to sample Tiare. You can thank me later...The lasting power is beyond amazing, which is usual with Ormonde Jayne scents (if you notice they tend to leave a tad oily film on the skin which proves just how generously rich they are in pure essence).

What is most impressive however is that despite Cristalle's pedigree it can often come across as bookish-secretary-in-a-sterile-office which limites its romance-wearing after-hours potential, but somehow, someway Ormonde Jayne managed to bypass that and combine both worlds: the intellectual and the sensual, the upbeat and the romantic; in a word, I'm hooked and my dithyrambic isn't at all misplaced! Tiare could be panseasonal, easing its way from the coolest of winter to the humid days of summer. In fact I long to wear it on the brightest snowiest morning when all the world looks like a tabula rasa for my writing, under the silent blanket of white...

My credit card trembles with fear at the prospect of having fallen hard for its charms. So should yours!

Notes for Ormonde Jayne Tiare:
Top: Mandarin, Orange Flower and Sicilian Lime
Heart: Tiare, Freesia, Water Lilies, Jasmine, Orris and Ylang Ylang
Base: Cedar, Vetiver, Sandalwood, Patchouli, Moss and Musk

Prices: £68 for Eau de Parfum 50 ml spray bottle and £ 180 for pure Parfum (50 ml with stopper). Available from The Royal Arcade, 28 Old Bond Street , London W1S 4SL and Ormonde Jayne at Boutique 1 Jumeirah Beach , Dubai as well as online at Ormonde Jayne (worldwide shipping) from November 19th.

Related reading on Perfume Shrine: Ormonde Jayne news & reviews.

Photo of model Suzy Parker and Robin Tattersall in Scottish tartan wear by Richard Avedon via schukina/photobucket. Art photography by John Ralwings for Vogue (March 1943) via vsnrydrmr.com. In the interests of disclosure I was sent a sample vial from the manufacturer.