Givenchy L'Interdit Eau de Parfum Rouge: fragrance review

 Glamour fragrances go hand in hand with the celebrities who endorsed them. No myth is stronger than the tie of Marylin Monroe with Chanel No 5 Parfum or Audrey Hepburn with L'Interdit by her preferred couturier Givenchy from the 1950s. Whereas No.5 has retained its core formula to the best of the brothers Wertheimers' ability, rendering the contemporary versions recognizably No.5, the same cannot be said for L'Interdit Eau de Parfum by Givenchy from 2018 and its subsequent editions - especially L'Interdit Eau de Parfum Rouge Givenchy (2021).

That does not mean at all that it is not worthwhile or that it does not reflect some semblance of a vintage advantage. Although vintage fragrances belonging to specific genres suffer from a sort of incompatibility with the modern tastes of the market nowadays, such as the aldehydic floral, the mossy chypre, or the spicy oriental, there are elements that can salvage a core idea into a timeless quality. Despite an embarrassment of riches in having three top perfumers vying to make it worthy (usually a sign of despair in my personal books), L'Interdit Eau de Parfum Rouge by Givenchy is excellent because it retains that precarious balance between a contemporary fragrance, yet with vintage elements, making it a recurring theme from the past extended into four dimensions, like it's traveling interstellar mode.

 
The classic combination of the amber-floral chord, a sweet hesperide, a white floral, and a woody base of sandalwood with ambery tonalities, is lifted through two or three specific jarring points, which provide the interlocutor suspense.
First, a cherry note that is oh-so-modern. Cherry scent molecules have trickled down to floor cleaners by now because the trajectory of the industry from top to bottom of the ladder has increased so rapidly, but two years back, it was still kind of novel and ground-breaking.

Secondly, there is a spicy component, but not just any spice. Beyond the dated cloves references (which recall the best days of Ernest Daltroff for Caron), there is ginger which, via its Asian reference, is very contemporary and sort of multi-culti too. Thirdly, there is a pimento leaf note, which adds to the green-spicy garlands but tends to withhold the headache-y allusions to the oriental spicy fragrances from the 1980s.

The end result is a contemporary fragrance with a very satisfying tie to the past. There is no direct reference in glossy publications and influencer videos on social media that Audrey Hepburn actually wore this version of L'Interdit Eau de Parfum Rouge like they often -still!- do with the revamped version from 2018 (L'Interdit Eau de Parfum Givenchy), but it is a fragrance that reflects glamour, elegance, plush and a true sense of chic.

Gucci Bloom Gocce di Fiori (2019): fragrance review

The interpretation of tuberose floralcy in Gucci Bloom Gocce di Fiori is beautifully lighter, cooler and altogether more stereotypically "pretty" than all the previous editions. Gocce is plural for goccia in Italian, the perfume's name meaning "drops of flowers." And it is!

via

The honeysuckle impression is quite pronounced in this flanker fragrance, reminding me of one of my favorite honeysuckle fragrances, the extremely cute Petals by Lili Bermuda Perfumery, a burst of refreshing, nectarous, piercingly sweet blossoms floating in the suspended air of a mild springtime afternoon.

A lighter and fresher variant of the original "vintage" floral perfume, Gocce di Fiori brings an atmosphere of the beginning of spring. Instead of the classical scented composition of the top, middle and base notes, Gocce di Fiori opens with trio of highly concentrated noble ingredients: jasmine bud, natural tuberose absolute and Chinese honeysuckle flower (Rangoon Creeper).



The fragrance circulates as an Eau de Toilette, as compared with Nettare di Fiori which is Eau de Parfum Intense and the original Gucci Bloom which is Eau de Parfum concentration.

Gucci Bloom Nettare di Fiori (2018): fragrance review

"Intensely sensual and feminine, Gucci Bloom Nettare di Fiori celebrates the intimate and authentic character of a woman. Rose and Osmanthus flower resonate in an enigmatic, woodier blend together with the notes of the original Gucci Bloom." This is what the company says about Gucci Bloom Nettare Di Fiori Eau de Parfum Intense (2018) composed by perfumer Alberto Morillas who developed both the original Gucci Bloom and Gucci Bloom Acqua di Fiori.

via

Gucci Bloom Nettare Di Fiori is a sensual and darker interpretation of the original, with additional notes of rose, ginger, osmanthus, and patchouli. Don't take that darker claim too seriously, now, though. Gucci Bloom Nettare di Fiori is admittedly not as airy and sentimental as the lighter interpretations of Acqua di Fiori and Gocce di Fiori (for which you will have to read on to find out what it's about), but it's not really sinister, nor dangerous. The concept remains a modern and feminine patchouli-sprinkled scent of white flowers with a good intersection of a prune-peachy base chord with a salty musky hint, that might have been extracted from an older fragrance, but not quite. The balance leans into the contemporary, with only a hint of retro.

Although both tuberose and patchouli share mentholated facets, and the tuberose in the original Gucci Bloom is certainly mentholated on top, not a blanket statement for all tuberose fragrances in the market, in Nettare di Fiori the effect is mild and subdued. There is no risk of alienating anyone with the suspicion of mothballs emanating from your clothes.

Gucci Bloom Acqua di Fiori (2018): fragrance review

The funny thing with tuberose is that in its complex glory it's a blossom that hides an intensely green facet. Its top note is a mentholated cool blast of frosty air to surprise your sinuses, before the meaty and juicy facets reveal themselves. How could this green element be extended from the original Gucci Bloom into a lighter interpretion?

via

Alberto Morillas thought about this and confidently injected a galbanum resin top note which braces without cutting. The slightly fruity and at once ammoniac feel of cassis should round out the green in a sour-sweet note which provides the characteristic freshness in Bloom Acqua di Fiori. The fragrance sweetens after the opening, comfortably retreating into the familiar white floral bouquet of the original.

Gucci Bloom Acqua Di Fiori is therefore a greener interpretation of the original.The perfumer took the original delicately spicy-floral composition of tuberose, jasmine and Chinese honeysuckle (Rangoon creeper), the red-flowered vine that premiered in perfume design, and made it fresher by introducing green accords. The drydown is woody and musky, made to convey warmth and depth. It is said to be an invigorating and radiant, lightly green and floral fragrance of highly concentrated ingredients.

Top notes: galbanum leaf, cassis bud
Heart: tuberose, jasmine, rangoon creeper
Base: sandalwood, musk

Hermes Twilly d'Hermes: fragrance review

Perfumer Christine Nagel's style could be likened to an Italian sunset. Probably has to do with her paternal Italian side. The bleeding of the colors into the sky and the transformation of dusk into darkness could be compared with her inimitable mastery at blending luminous and bright notes into chords which resonate deeper and darker as the scent develops throughout time. You're never on a simple path with her perfumes, such as the stupendous Maboussin, the balsamic wonder of Les Larmes Sacrees de Thèbes among her limited edition perfume trio for Baccarat, or the intricately sweet Si fragrance by Giorgio Armani, and of course the stupendous Theorema by Fendi, a case study in how to make a non threatening oriental fragrance.
and there's always something to discover in the process.
I find this quality quite enjoyable in her latest creation, Twilly by Hermès, the house Nagel now acts as in-house perfumer for.

double exposure photography artwork by Antonio Mora via

Although Twilly d'Hermès possesses that optimistic flair (via its fresh citrusy opening) that people find more summery than wintery, I find that the composition veers into another direction very, very quickly thanks to the brilliant combination of fresh ginger and a floralcy which is hard to pinpoint (official sources say tuberose, but it's a totally unexpected kind of tuberose). A kaleidoscope of green, floral, and even earthy and woody nuances pass before your nostrils in quick succession, as if buoyed by the golden light of a glorious afternoon full of grace when everything seems to happily melt unto itself.

Twilly d'Hermès doesn't remind me of any other fragrance I know (which is remarkable in itself) and it's playful enough and light enough to appeal to younger women without appearing condescending in the least. Nevertheless, its very memorability lies in the delicate and rather sophisticated interweaving of fresh spiciness and carnal sensuality without recalling any particular genre: is it spicy floral? is it a citrusy woody? is it floral woody musky? It's a puzzle, but a good one.

Her last two fragrances for Hermes showcase the treatment of light and delicate juxtaposition.
Eau de Rhubarbe Ecarlate is a study in this duality, whereupon the succulent yet fresh rhubard note is envelopped in high-tech musks to give a persistent buzz like a bubblebee around nectarous blossoms. And Galop, for all its deluxe price, does not smell like it's trying too hard; a bet lost by many of the luxury segment brands nowadays, who, intent on presenting something posh, lose the golden measure and load the perfume with insurmountable heaviness. Galop, on the contrary, breathes!

Twilly increases its appeal with repeated wearings, so I suggest you give it some thorough testing before pronouncing a definitive assessment. It's young and probably not too serious in intent, but we all have our heavyweights for the days we want to immerse ourselves in existential ennui I suppose.

Anya's Garden Enticing: fragrance review & giveaway

"The Tuberose, with her silvery light,
That Is in the gardens of Malay
Is called the mistress of the night,
So like a bride, scented and bright,
She comes out when the sun’s away.

Then, by a secret virtue, these grateful odours
will add an inexpressible charm to your enjoyment;
but if, regardless of the precepts of moderation,
you will approach too near, this divine
flower will then be but a dangerous enchantress,
which will pour into your bosom a deadly poison,
Thus the love which descends from heaven purities
and exalts the delights of a chaste passion ; but
that which springs from the earth proves the bane
and the destruction of imprudent youth."
[source]

The seduction of Polianthes tuberosa starts in the mind, even if the consummation lies on a warm bed. Destabilizing one's mind, giving impure thoughts, thoughts of opiate intoxication, of abandoning one's self to pleasures of a forbidden nature, in the words of one writer "a voluptuous intoxication from which one does not easily become liberated".

Literally "flower of the city" (from the Greek πόλις/polis for city and  άνθος/anthos for flower), tuberose has been linked with a demi-mondaine existence in the big cities of Western Europe, where courtesans used it alongside other "crass" scents, such as musk and ambergris, to infiltrate themselves unto the lives of their lovers. The Victorian abstinence from using perfume on the body itself, unless it was in the form of a lightly scented product (hair pomade, mouth rinse, linen scent and the like), made the use of intimate forms of perfume even more daring by those deviating outwards of the accepted path of manners. Perfumer Anya McCoy of Anya's Garden chose wisely when she paired the dynamo of tuberose with animalic perfume notes (among them the human-meets-herbaceous scent of clary sage, beeswax and musk tincture), thus allying the two faces of Janus into a composite that is as narcotic as a forbidden substance, as dark as the night and as addictive as good chocolate. The lady is not quite covered, rather surreptitiously revealing, and quite old-fashioned in her naturalness; then again fashions are cyclical and animalic florals are off for a revival at the moment.

When I asked Anya about the process of creation she replied: "I used a combo of purchased absolute and extrait (pure absolute) made from pomade that I made. The pomade was washed with alcohol for two weeks, chilled, filtered. Very old school." Smelling the finished product I can vouch for the old school moniker myself; in the very best possible sense, that is!

Although the scent launched last summer, it took me a while to discover its many facets and to enjoy it on the warmer days of spring that we've been having. The natural warmth of the climate ramps up the carnal aspects to the max and it hangs into the humid air with the insistence of a lover always hungry for more. Maybe this is the deep, dangerous, complicit floral for summer to come.

Ingredients: Organic Sugar Cane Alcohol, Tuberose Absolute, Scented Alcohol extracted from Anya’s handmade Tuberose Enfleurage Pomade, Butter CO2, Opoponax Absolute, Clary Sage essential oil, Terpene Acetate Isolate ex. Cardamom, Beeswax Absolute and Anya’s handmade Beeswax Tincture, Patchouli essential oil, Mushroom Absolute, Siberian Musk Tincture.

Enticing is available in both pure perfume form as a 4ml mini, and as an Eau de Parfum 15ml spray from Anya’s Garden Perfumes store available here.

For our readers Anya McCoy has generously offered a FREE 4ml extrait de parfum of Enticing sent anywhere within the USA. All you have to do is leave a comment under the review and I will draw a winner after the weekend.

Related reading on Perfume Shrine:

Anya's Garden Perfume Reviews 

Animalic & "Skanky" Perfumes

Musk: natural Tonquin musk and synthetics

The historic Animalis base

Parfums Fourrure (so called "fur perfumes")

Neela Vermeire Creations Pichola: fragrance review

The impressionistic school of perfumery seldom fails to fall victim of one or two cardinal sins. Either it won't replicate the received impression we, the audience, have of a particular referent (perversely enough there seems to be a collective "idea" of how particular places & things smell like), resulting in  confusion, despite adhering to the definition of the artistic term. Or the clarity of structure will be subordinate to the "harmonic" effects resulting in something that "falls apart on the blotter", as perfumers say. Not so with Pichola, the latest fragrance launch by the cult favorite niche fragrance brand Neela Vermeire Creations, overseen by a true perfumephile, its founder and guiding force, i.e. Neela, and composed by the steady hand of independent perfumer Bertrand Duchaufour.

Rie Rasmussen, Vogue UK December 2005, photographed by Norbert Schroeder via

Pichola was inspired by Lake Pichola in India, since the canon of Neela Vermeire Creations draw inspiration from the peninsula. But fear not, ye armchair traveler of little faith in your abilities of envisioning vast expanses of water with flowing flowers. Much as Pichola draws elements from the impressive scenery it is not a carte postale style of fragrance for Americans in need of issuing a passport. As Carson McCullers put it "We are torn between a nostalgia for the familiar and an urge for the foreign and strange. As often as not, we are homesick most of the places we have never known..."

Pichola is not a travel "selfie". This shape shifter of a fragrance has backbone, finesse and above all the charm that makes a fragrance go beyond the mere pretty into addictive.

It impressed me in that I have tried the scent three times and Pichola performed differently on ALL three occasions, which hasn't really happened before. You can blame it on Rio, I guess, but I did find that the temperature of my skin brought to the surface different elements.  The first time Pichola by Neela Vermeire projected as an intensely white floral with a cleaned up jasmine and orange blossom, plus a budding gardenia note. It gave me a nod of Pure Poison, to be honest, which was impressive since that one is a very loud (albeit beautiful perfume) and not  Bertrand Duchaufour's "style" (who is more subdued and much less obvious).
On the second testing Pichola was much milkier white floral and had a green-husks velvety touch floating about, like coconut and fig leaf (stemone, massoia lactone, something along those two lines) which did remind me of Duchaufour and his masterful translation of earthy tones and woody notes, such as in L'Artisan's Timbuktu. Third time it was distinctly orange blossom and lush, scrumptious but not really indolic tuberose, plus a sandalwood milkiness chased by a huge clean musk note.

This creature purred...and I purred with delight over it.


Fragrance Notes for Neela Vermeire Creations Pichola:
Top Notes
Neroli, Clementine, Bergamot, Cardamom, Cinnamon, Saffron, Juniper, Magnolia
Heart Notes
Orange blossom, Rose, Tuberose, Jasmine sambac, Ylang ylang
Base notes
Haitian vetiver, Benzoin, Sandalwood , Driftwood

Related reading on Perfume Shrine:
Neela Vermeire Fragrance Reviews & News: Trayee, Mohur, Bombay Bling
"Creamy" fragrances: scents of rich clotted cream 
Indolic vs. Non Indolic: White Florals of Passion
The Jasmine Series: Perfumes highlighting the King of Flowers

Cartier Panthere and Cartier La Panthere: fragrance review & comparison of vintage vs. modern edition

Reading there are two editions, one old, one new, by Cartier with the emblematic panther in the name, one is faced with an embarrassment of riches. The good news is that perfumer Mathilde Laurent' style is vibrant, luminous, recognizable in the newer incarnation, La Panthère. The bad news (if that is considered bad in itself) is that it bears no copy-paste relation to the previous fragrance,  Cartier  Panthère, launched in 1986 and circulating well into the 1990s to be discontinued later on.

While the older Panthère is a ripe and fruity-saturated perfume which is recalling a trend of the 1980s and mid-90s (and bears a knowing kinship to the later Champagne/Yvresse by Sophia Grojsman with its fruit-liquor density, I always thought, as well as winking to Dior Poison), the newer La Panthère is a musky floral with a healthy dose of oakmoss felt in the base, which gains life on the skin, rather than on the paper blotter on which it is presented in perfumeries. Indeed to judge it by merely its effect on paper would be to misunderstand it.

I like what I smell on a batch of the older, Alberto Morillas composed Panthère which I received through a split from a bona fide collector. My own small bottle from 1991 was in a ramschackle state, due to it being kept on a dresser for the better part of that decade. The little remaining inside had become a thickish goo which muddled all notes together. So jogging my memory was necessary. The rather significant amount I ordered proves that my former instincts are correct.

The floral notes (tuberose amongst them) are so honeyed and dense (and warmed up by civet notes) that they gain an overripe fruitiness, reminiscent of grappa spirits. The resinous qualities have an aldehydic brilliance to them and a tenacity which has both influential wake (you sniff this from time to time on yourself) and good lasting power, either on skin or on clothes. It's a perfume that seems out of joint with the modern sensibilities in a way, yet like 24 Faubourg it doesn't smell really retro, just mature and "full." Contrary to 24 Faubourg, nevertheless, the older Panthère's aura is less formal and a little more playful, at least to me.

In contrast the newer 2014 La Panthère (differentiated both by bottle and by the article "La" [sic], i.e. "the" before the animal-emblem) spells modern sensibilities galore, yet done in a very tasteful way. Much like Baiser Vole (which let it be noted I liked a lot) was Laurent's take on one of the mega-trends of recent perfumery, that is, the gently powdery floral, here in La Panthère takes some of the tricks of the illusionist, making you see fruit (fresh, tart, like pear liqueur, greenish too, a touch of budding gardenias) while the floral bouquet develops beyond any doubt and gains radiance by the hour. The underscoring by musks fortunately doesn't tilt the perfume into laundry detergent territory, as many fear due to the abundance of musk molecules in functional products used for cleaning and drying our clothes due to their hydrophobic properties (which ensure a lasting impression).

Specifically Musk ketone in the base, which smells warm, inviting, pulsating from the skin, forms an aura that warms up with the heat of the body. Although previously restricted and disappearing from perfumes, it is re-introduced and utilized by some (but not all!) perfume companies and perfume labs. It is exactly its thermoregulating properties which are lost on the blotter, so I advice giving it some time to evolve on the warmth of someone living. The mossy notes brings the composition closer to something which indeed has a 1980s kin than anything. Yet it still remains contemporary, youthful, sparkling with life, a modern chypre. One of the better releases so far.

I really like the concave bottle which is carved from the inside to hold the juice into the cavity formed by the panther's head. In all sincerity I found the commercial (and the overly "meaningful" gaze of the model) yawn-inducing. But your mileage may vary.

Available at major department stores internationally.

Givenchy Ysatis: fragrance review & history & free perfume giveaway

Ysatis remains among the most memorable perfume launches of my childhood, alongside Cacharel's Loulou, mainly due to the commercial that accompanied it, much like Faure's dreamy Pavane did for the latter. In the Greek version, a marvelously sonorous, rhyming phrase was able to be coined for the launch, a fact that would be difficult to accomplish in any other language:  "Αναζητείς το Υζαντίς" it went (a-na-zee-TEES toh ee-sah-TEES), roughly meaning that the love-struck male that would smell it would be forever seeking the source of the fragrant Ysatis. It does lend one to daydreaming, doesn't it. Especially to an impressionable, already obsessed with perfumes, mind such as mine, back in 1984.
The reality, as is often the case with perfumes, is far more prosaic: Jean Courtiere, president of Parfums Givenchy, came up with the name, while searching ~as is the formal naming process~ for something non copyrighted, non insulting in any known language and mellifluous enough to be catchy. Ysatis it was and it stuck.

The story

I also vividly recall that Ysatis was accompanied by images of carnival, chess board games and Venetian masks, a fact that I mistakenly attributed it to the masterminds at the advertising company borrowing heavily from the Venezia by Laura Biagiotti popularity, at its apex during the early 1990s, but it looks like it was done in reverse. (disregard the art school project ones posing as authentic). Accurately enough, my memory is as it should be: not only is the architectural Art-Deco-meets-skyscraper bottle of Ysatis posing as a chess piece itself, the commercial is set to a scene from the Venetian carnival (to the succeeding scoring of Hendel's Sarabande, immortalized in Kubrick's Barry Lynton, and of Folias d'Espagna by Arcangelo Corelli): the intrigued, love-struck man in question is seeking the glamorous, 1940s vague-coiffed and 1980s made-up woman behind the mask, the truth behind the glamorous facade. It all stood as very impressive and to this day I think they involuntarily captured a huge part of perfume's intellectual appeal; what is it that makes us want to peel the layers off a person like the beige-purple petticoats off an onion?

I'm relaying all these very personal associations to drive to the fact that Parfums Givenchy had a nice, long-standing tradition in my house, as my grandfather was a devotee of Givenchy Gentleman (1974), my mother occasionally dabbed from Givenchy III (1970) and my father had an amorous relationship with Xeryus (1986) many moons ago. So falling for Ysatis wasn't far fetched at all and taking in mind the first perfume I bought with my pocket money was YSL Opium, it seemed like a natural enough progression into the abyss into perfume appreciation. In fact the fragrance was so popular in Greece that a local fashion "chain" is still named after it.

Searching for this perfume these past couple of days I come across Ysatis advertised as "the perfume of power". But this is not what it stood for for me. Perceptions have significantly changed and we're not the creatures we were in the 1980s, when everything seemed possible, even gassing out everyone in the room with one's scent fumes, but Ysatis, poised as it is between three categories (floral, oriental and chypre) in its complex formula, has the tremendous force to evoke a time when one felt untouchable.
It sounds rather perverse and morbid choice for a teen, but I kinda think I was morbid all along. We did listen to lots of Joy Division and Cure and Siouxie & the Banshees and read Poe poems and gothic tales, so I suppose it wasn't just me.

The scent of Ysatis 

The main fragrance story of Givenchy Ysatis is unfolded in pummeling, sultry and creamy smelling essences of orange flower, ylang ylang and tuberose, brightened by the citrusy but sweetish oil of mandarin and chased by animal fragrance notes (smells like heaps of civet to me and there's also castoreum) and some spice in the base (the unusual for a feminine fragrance bay rum as well as clove). It's pretty "whoa, what the hell hit me?" at any rate. Like Gaia, The Non Blonde, says: "Ysatis is not for the meek or those still figuring out their style and taste". Word. If you have liked and worn Organza (also by Givenchy) in the 1990s, or Cacharel Loulou, and Ubar by Amouage, you have high chances of claiming Ysatis with the clinging tenderness usually reserved for Nutella jars.

Ysatis was composed by Dominique Ropion, maker of such ebullient, expansive fragrances as Amarige, Pure Poison, Carnal Flower, Portrait of a Lady, Une Fleur de Cassie, Alien, RL Safari, Flowerbomb or Kenzo Jungle, among many many others.




Ysatis has been reformulated and repackaged, though not ruined in the process; it's till Amazonian and lusciously haute bourgeois. Still if you're searching for the older formula, it comes in the black box vs. the newer purple one. The original bottles even read Ysatis de Givenchy. There is also a flanker, Ysatis Iris, also in a purple box, though that one has a purple hued bottle as well and of course the moniker "Iris" just below the name. Still, keep a sharp eye when shopping, as it's a rather different scent (focusing on violet & iris note sandwiched between the citrusy top and floriental bottom).

I have a generous miniature of vintage Ysatis for a lucky winner. Please state in the comments what was your favorite 1980s scent and what scents you'd like to see featured in the Underrated Perfume Day feature on Perfume Shrine. Draw is open internationally till Sunday midnight and winner will be announced sometime on Monday.

For more entries and fragrance reviews of Underrated Perfumes please click on the link and scroll.

Le Labo Lys 41: fragrance review

The newly launched Le Labo Lys 41 is heavily influenced by the mid-20th-century salicylate-rich school of florals, which in the past gave us classics such as L'Air du Temps, Fidji and the vintage, original Chloe, but transmitted through a Mac Book Pro screen; such is its modern sensibility. Let that not detract you from its ritzy glamor all the same.

via glo.msn.com

The treatment here is resplendent of the solar and creamy scented aspects to the lily (rather than eugenol-rich spicy, which would be an alternative direction in showcasing this flower) with a segment of tuberose floralcy. It approximates the lushness of frangipani blossoms (a kissing cousin to the closely intertwined, narcotic jasmine sambac) with a soft sweetness which surfaces from the bottom up thanks to fluffy vanilla and musk. If you love that sort of thing, you will love that sort of thing, and I'm warning you it can become a tad overwhelming sometimes, but it's quite addictive nevertheless.

Similar in feeling, but denser, to Lys Soleia (Guerlain Aqua Allegoria line) and Vanille Galante (Hermes Hermessences), Lys 41 by Le Labo is sure to capture the heart of those who love beach-evoking thrills, all out lushness and the playful, smooth feeling of whipped cream spread onto skin. Composed by Daphné Bugey, one of Le Labo’s iconic noses and the perfumer behind Rose 31, Bergamote 22 and Neroli 36, the new Lys 41 is insistent in its fragrant wake, meant to reward those who are looking to make a statement with their fragrance.

Sorta like Elizabeth Taylor's diamonds-accessorized turbans; regal looking and hard to miss.

Notes for Le Labo Lys 41:
Jasmine, tuberose absolute, lily, warm woody notes, vanilla madagascar and musks.

Related reading on PerfumeShrine: Lily fragrances, Le Labo news & fragrance reviews

Disclosure: I was sent a sample directly by the company.

Hiram Green Moon Bloom: fragrance review

Hiram Green is no newcomer to perfume, though his site would suggest otherwise, touting Moon Bloom as their "debut fragrance". Simply, this is a new outfit for someone involved in the field for long through Scent Systems, who has relocated and conducts a new brand stationed at The Netherlands using all natural ingredients. Now under his own name, he embarked on a new adventure which, by the sniffs of Moon Bloom, smells promising.

via landscapeandgarden.wordpress.com

Moon Bloom is a lush and elegant tuberose themed eau de parfum. Tuberose is a tropical night blooming flower. Often referred to as ‘the mistress of the night’, tuberose is an admired theme in perfumery because of its soft and creamy but also powerful and narcotic aroma. It's enough to know that in Victorian times maidens were prohibited from smelling the rather waxy, small white flowers lest they experience a spontaneous orgasm; such was the reputation of this heady flower! The name does bring to mind the Victorian Moon Gardens, gardens in which night-blossoming white flowers were planted so that the sun-wary ladies could protect their alabaster complexions from the ravages of the sun in the absence of SPF 50+. (Of course the term "ravages of the sun" is all relative, speaking of the latitudes and longitudes that constituted the Victorian territories, but you get my meaning. Besides is it me, or does the silvery sheen of the moon seem very conductive to secret affairs leading to orgasmic heights despite the precautions placed by the wiser elders?).

Moon Bloom includes generous amounts of tuberose absolute, jasmine absolute and ylang ylang, but it doesn't clobber you over the head with them all the same, like many hysterical florals do. There are also notes of creamy coconut, leafy greens and hints of tropical spices and resins (plus a hint of vanilla?) which smother the floral notes and produce something that is soft and strangely fresh, like the air of a greenhouse.

The natural perfumery genre isn't devoid of wearable and beautiful specimens; it just takes a superior critical judgment, a steady hand and the aesthetics to forget photo realism and instead try for something that is imaginative and beautiful in its own right. I'm willing to make an exception on that last requirement, because Moon Bloom smells at once life-like and at the same time like it was made with stylish panache and not just slavishly copying Mother Nature. The coconut-lacing of real tuberose and its subtle green-rubbery facets are captured in a polished melange which is both pretty and revealing of the course of the blossom through the fabric of time: from greener to lusher to ripe. Tube-phobes (and I know there are many of you out there, don't hide!) should drop their coyness and indulge. Moon Bloom is a purring kitten, if there ever was one.

Both the 50ml bottle (with classic pump atomiser) and the 5ml travel atomiser are refillable. 5ml retails for 25 euros and 50 mail will run you out of 135 euros on the Hiram Green site (Please note that non EU buyers are exempt from sales tax, so calculate 20% less or so.

Disclosure: I was a sample by the perfumer. 

Oscar de la Renta Oscar (original, 1977): fragrance review

Some perfumes the minute you put them on feel like you've slipped into a pair of black satin slingbacks or a silk peignoir in ivory. Oscar by Oscar de la Renta had felt that way to me for the better bulk of my adult life. In fact I used to adore the way it smelled on my mother, no stranger to spectacular perfumes, such as her favorites Cabochard and Dioressence. 

The original Oscar (1977) is a remarkably complex perfume, quite attenuated in its current formula compared to the grand dame that was the vintage juice from the 1970s and 1980s, which shows a remarkable kinship (and debt) to Coty's L'Origan and Guerlain's L'Heure Bleue. For this reason, but also for the way it extrapolates past and fuses it into the future, beyond mere nostalgia, it is of great historical value to see what makes it tick.

via parfumdepub.net

Oscar de la Renta's original perfume: a complex composition 

In many ways the introduction of Oscar by Oscar de la Renta on the market in 1977 meant a revival of the floriental bittersweet genre that the two classics had paved after many years of inertia. Despite L'Origan being formulated around perfumer's bases (i.e. ready made blocks of "smells" composed for perfumers skirting the issue of reinventing the wheel each time), both the Coty and the La Renta perfumes are resting on a basic chord of carnation (the spicy constituent eugenol is a key component of the perfume), orris, violet (methyl ionone), orange blossom and ambreine, all ingredients in about equal measure but for the ionone (which is doubly dosaged compared to the rest). Jean Louis Sieuzac, the perfumer of Opium (YSL), Farenheit, Bel Ami and Dune (Dior), sure knew a thing or fifty about how to create a frisson of excitement!

The floral heart however is particularly complex in Oscar de la Renta: the jasmine core (resting on both hedione and Jessemal), with rose, hyacinth and ylang-ylang included as well, produce a particularly sweet floralcy. The tuberose fragrance note is the mule's kick; purposeful, corrupt, expansive, can't miss it. Accessorizing notes of heliotrope, coumarin (the tonka bean note), musk ketone, benzoin and opoponax give a resinous, powdery and sweetish character that veers both compositions into the floriental genre (In fact L'Origan can be claimed to have historically introduced the genre in the first place!). The heliotrope and "powder" with a contrasting top (anisic in L'Heure Bleue, spicy in Oscar) are the basis of the tension that is so compelling in the Guerlain perfume as well. It's not hard to see how both can be memorable.

The addition of Vertofix (woody note close to cedar) in Oscar provides the woody background, with a small footnote of sandalwood and a mossy base reminiscent of the famous Mousse de Saxe "base" popularized by Caron. The powdery character is further reinforced through the resinous orris note and the mossiness. This contracts with the fresh top note comprising citruses (orange, bergamot and mandarin), basil, linalool and a fruity accord.

The above review pertains to the original composition which was prevalent throughout the 1980s and 1990s. Nowadays, somewhat attenuated due to "corrective surgery" (aka reformulation), Oscar is less smooth, with a harsher feel that doesn't lure in the way the vintage did, and less of its tuberose kick; in a sea of fruity floral sameness it retains some of its retro vibe, but it can come across as somewhat dated rather than wow, though the drydown phase is pretty good still. Lately the Oscar de la Renta house shows encouraging signs of picking up with its Esprit d'Oscar fragrance and its more "exclusive" collection of Luxuries fragrances, so I'm hopeful that where the botox failed the new generation fillers might prove successful. It remains to be seen.

The perfume's imprint

The progeny of Oscar de la Renta itself isn't without merit: Loulou by Cacharel (1987) owes a debt to the development of its tuberose and oriental notes to Oscar's floriental formula. The side by side testing of both gives an interesting glimpse into the intertextuality that is perfume creation; quotes of past things are happening in later perfumes all the time. Vanderbilt (an American classic from 1981) is also influenced, a sweet floral with white flowers in the heat (honeyed orange blossom, jasmine), heliotrope, vanillin, abstract woods (provided by aromachemical Iso-E Super) and musk in the base and a contrasting citrus and green fruity top note, but with no spice and very little coumarin or ylang-ylang to speak of.  The contrasting nuances help make the perfume memorable.

Tauer Perfumes Noontide Petals: fragrance review & draw for (unreleased yet) samples

From the noontide sun depart
Here belov'd awhile repose
And the murmurings of my heart
Let me tenderly disclose,
to my forest rose.[1]

Alles ist Licht (Everything is light)

Source: google.com via Perfumshrinee on Pinterest

Writing the first review on Noontide Petals, the as yet unreleased newest Tauer perfume, means I get to -in a way- shape how the fragrance might be examined by those who will experience it next. So if I were to give a direct image it would be light, blinding light scattered through a vitrail pane with geometrical designs, imbuing everything in its path, softening the delineations of objects, creating a haze of happy numbness. It was Luca who had long ago envisioned an apparition of light in regards to a Bernand Chant composition: seraphic angels singing a concert of clean notes with bits of an organic chemistry treatise and a woman dressed in white, with an impeccable silvery blow-dry, descending from the skies smiling, like an Atlantis TV-hostess. Different though the scent in question may be, the impression is nonetheless simpatico to the one that Noontide Petals created in me upon smelling it. This hugely aldehydic floral fragrance is simultaneously clean, very floral and sweetish in the White Linen, Estee by Lauder (a Bernand Chant composition, by the way) and Chanel No.22 mold, with that impeccably "coifed" feel of retro aldehydics, of which Tauer's Miriam fragrance was one great paradigm. In fact the turn that Noontide Petals takes for a while after the initial spray is referencing a segment off Miriam, with an even more retro, more sparkling soapy manner than the rather more soft-spoken Miriam.

Geranium and ylang ylang are commonly used as modifiers to leverage the intensity of the fatty aldehydes in classic fragrances. The trick works; a ton of aldehydes is almost too much to stomach without it, such is their engine combustion for flight that you feel like you're straddling the side wing of a Boeing 747. This sheen opens up the flowers, giving them the propensity to unfurl unto the ether. A giant rose is immediately perceived in Noontide Petals, much like in White Linen or No.22, soapy and warm, bright yellow [2] and strikingly spring-like under the winter sun. The citrusy touch on top serves as balance to the sweet floralcy of white petals (natural jasmine and tuberose), cradled into a soft, perfume, posh base with a warm, very lightly smoky effect that recalls things like Chanel, Van Cleef & Arpels and other insignia of class and refinement of another era. Simply put, Noontide Petals makes me want to press my jeans, break out the Hermès scarfs and the long, 20s sautoirs of shiny pearls and go out for a morning sip of champagne for breakfast and laugh and laugh with spirited company.

copyright Andy Tauer for Tauer Perfumes

In short, if you're a lover of aldehydes in perfumes and have been longing for a good, potent, gorgeous dosage to hit you over the head in infinite style, look no further than Noontide Petals. If you have a problem with aldehydic florals you should also try it for the heck of it: it's definitely an impressive fragrance, very well crafted. For those of you who have identified a "Tauerade" base common in most of Andy's work, I can see no sign of it here, as I couldn't see it in Miriam either. In that way these are fragrant releases apart. But none the less beautiful for it!

For our readers, 3 samples of the unreleased fragrance by Tauer: Enter a comment, saying what you would most like or dislike about aldehydes, and I will draw three winners. Draw is open internationally till Tuesday 19th midnight. Winner will be announced on Wednesday.

[1]Rexford, George C., compiler and arranger; Lover, S.; Woodburry, I. B.; Thomas, J. R.; Wurzel, G. F.; Lavenu. Beadle's Dime School Melodist: A Choice Selection of Familiar and Beautiful Songs, Duets, Trios, Etc. Arranged in a Simple Manner for School Singing, with Elementary Instructions Suited to Children of the Most Tender Age . New York: Irwin P. Beadle and Co., 1860. [format: book], [genre: song]. Permission: Newberry Library Persistent link to this document: http://lincoln.lib.niu.edu/file.php?file=beadle.html
[2]It could be Pantone 7404

Serge Lutens Datura Noir: fragrance review

Datura Noir is rather schizophrenic, even for a Serge Lutens fragrance, aiming at pushing several buttons at once, much like the hallucinogenic datura plant is famous for; this Lutens fragrance is a kaleidoscope which changes perceptibly every time you give it a slight shake, but one can't help but get a slight case of the shivers while attempting it.

via http://www.modelmayhem.com/portfolio/pic/23309899

It has the almond nuance of cyanide we read about in novels, yet dressed in edible apricot and tropical fruit and floral notes (candied tuberose clearly present) as if trying to belie its purpose, while at the same time it gives the impression of coconut-laced suntan lotion smelled from afar; as if set at a posh resort in a 1950s film noir where women are promiscuous and men armed to the teeth beneath their grey suits and there's a swamp nearby for dumbing bodies in the night...
The noir moniker is perfect for a night-blooming blossom, but also for something dangerous and off- kilter just like a classic cinemascope of the era. Datura after all is a blossom (in the family Solanacae that consists of 9 species) which opens and blooms in the evening. What better foil for dark natures? The deadly poisonous plant, known both as Angel’s Trumpet and the Devil’s Weed, can be beneficial only in homeopathic dosages.

Medieval as the source of inspiration sounds like, Datura Noir is a modern fragrance, very much with its feet in the here and now. The apricot nuance in Datura Noir is due to both apricot pits used in making amaretto liqueur (which smells and tastes of bitter almonds oddly enough) and to osmanthus flowers, a blossom that smells like an hybrid between apricot and peach. The effect is sweet, narcotic, perhaps a tad too buttery sweet thanks to the profuse and clearly discernible coconut note which smothers the more carnal aspects of the tuberose in the heart.

Datura Noir is among the fragrances I can't really wear in the Lutens. It comes on as subtly as a ton of bricks and as sweet as a generous piece of baklava a la mode...Gaia at the Non Blonde shares the puzzlement. But you might disagree.

Notes for Serge Lutens Datura Noir: bitter almond , heliotrope, myrrh, tuberose and vanilla.



film clip collage from François Ozon's film 5X2 which is all the same neither loud, nor sweet

Tableau de Parfums Loretta: fragrance review & draw

You might have heard that Loretta, the newest fragrant baby arising from the collaboration of perfumer Andy Tauer & film-maker Brian Pera, is a tuberose-centered floral; and yet smelling it you realize that on face value it's inscrutable. This tuberose, although natural and vibrant, resembles nothing of the moth love & hate relationship of tuberoses of reference (like Tubereuse Criminelle by Lutens or Carnal Flower by F.Malle) with the exception of Piguet's Fracas. You have to smell it to believe it, because we're dealing with an atypical example, much like its creator is an atypical perfumer who has deservedly gained a cult status.

The enigmatic scent: a tuberose unlike any other

Like Fracas (and yet also unlike it) Loretta is built on a white flowers given a resolutely candied, fruity veneer that is creamy, and Tauer embraces that note with lactonic woods that remind me of some modern version of sandalwood, with the liquor like tonalities of rose that Andy likes so, plus a touch of cardamom or nutmeg. The olfactory impression of this candied, fruity floralcy is the synergy of the banana note in ylang ylang with treacly and very diffusive orange blossom along with a grape and berries touch (methyl anthranilate, the thing that made L'Heure Bleue and Narcisse Noir so compelling); this gives a sweet, rotting flesh mystery that is tantalizing in a perfume.
This peculiar combination personally reminds me of the tuberose hiding inside the heart of Dior's original Poison from the 1980s: the "monster" inside is nothing compared to the buttressing via an overdose of musks and woods and yes, grape and berry notes. The composition is more than its description and somewhat less too, a cipher. Which nicely brings us full circle to Loretta, as this Rubik's Cube is built upon a succession of complimentary notes that defuse each other into unison. This isn't just random but relies on careful, painstaking attention from the perfumer; the common thread between grape and berry is the component also present in tuberose and ylang ylang essences.
Although the official notes mention aldehydes, the effect here is unlike classics of the genre and serves rather as the building block of a Schiff's base (A perfumer's "tool", with some technical challenges built in as well). In plain English, don't expect a sparkling, citrusy, soapy-smelling or metallic Chanel No.5, YSL Rive Gauche or Madame Rochas nuance here; Loretta is in a class of its own.

Comparison with Miriam 

Contrary to Tableau de Parfums Miriam, with its retro soapy, aldehydic halo ~to correspond with the silvery sheen of the protagonist Anne Magnuson, and her reticent, elegant aura~ the Loretta fragrance is a young and contemporary creature, a cleaning lady with sexual fantasies enacted behind closed doors; we're talking about a cleaning lady with a supreme taste in perfume, apparently! Loretta is hard to miss (it radiates and lasts very well, like all Tauer perfumes) and very difficult not to fall in love with, even for tuberose phobics.



The where, the how, the when, the how much

Tableau de Parfums is an ongoing collaboration between Tauer and filmmaker Brian Pera and Loretta is its latest installment, after the Miriam fragrance. The Tableau perfumes are portraits inspired by the shorts of Pera’s ongoing film series, Woman’s Picture (You can find out everything about the whole thing on www.evelynavenue.com).

The Loretta fragrance includes fragrant notes of tuberose absolute, aldehydes, rose absolute, orange blossom and woods.

For those in LA, the Scent Bar will be holding a launch party for the fragrance for the official launch on October 19th.
Loretta in the Tableau de Parfums series will be available in 50 ml Eau de Parfum concentration, packaged with a DVD and film poster ($160) or in a 7 ml Travel spray ($40) at evelynavenue.com and select stockists.

 Andy below presents Loretta in the Pitti exhibition in Florence via the Basenotes/Youtube.

 

You can also peek at an older interview of Tauer and Pera on FragranceScout.

For our readers, I have 5 deluxe samples of the new Loretta perfume to give away. Just enter a comment and you're eligible. Draw is open till Monday Oct 15th midnight. Draw is now closed, thank you for participating!

 In the interests of disclosure I was sent samples for the giveaway by the perfumer himself

Guerlain Aqua Allegoria Lys Soleia: fragrance review

A warm, sandy beach...soaking up the rays, you rest sprawled in a deckchair, your hand hanging down in the shadowy spot beneath it, idly caressing the sugar-spun grain...kicked off sandals nearby...a faint hint of tropical flowers and suntan lotion in the breeze...and the world sits still for a while. This summer fantasy leads to soothing thoughts and sensual imaginings and it's all the fault of Guerlain's Lys Soleia, I'm convinced! An interplay between light and shadow, between heat and , basking in the afterglow.

Guerlain had the brilliant idea to offer something for casual wearing and younger dispositions around 1999, the Aqua Allegoria line. Incongruent, with agile, ambrosial specimens alongside undoubtably acrylic painting flops, the line has thankfully picked up in the last couple of seasons (for instance see Guerlain Jasminora ) and Lys Soleia, the latest fragrance in the collection, is among the clear winners.

As announced previously, Aqua Allegoria Lys Soleia is centered around a semi-fresh, semi-tropical floral composition, which reproduces the sensuous aroma of oriental yellow lilies and the regal white lily. The treatment is initially leaning into the delicious tannning lotion aroma of classic European favorite Ambre Solaire, with a tangy hint of citrus ling-a-ling (and Guerlain is no stranger to great citrus, just witness Shalimar Light), rich in salicylates and the tropical floral note of ylang ylang as well as the greener part of the tuberose plant, heady and sensual. Lys Soleia is taking a page off both Guerlain's own Terracotta Sous le Vent dry oil and the green-powdery-lily strewn Vanille Galante in the Hermessences series by Hermes with its delicate veil of vanilla. The spicy touch of lily is nicely peppered, biting gently, bridging the gap between lily and ylang ylang. This tender and very temperately sweet fragrance doesn't really lose its sensuous tropical flower feel upon drying down on the skin, but enhances the muskiness of warmed skin and light creamy vanillic nuances.

Perfume enthusiasts who like Nuxe Parfum Prodigieux, Cartier Baiser Vole, Serge Lutens Un Lys and Hermes Vanille Galante are advised to try it; it shares kindred DNA. But so are lovers of feminine tropical florals who don't want oppressive clobber-you-down tiare re-runs smelling cheap. Lys Soleia smells eerily familiar and at the same time freshly renewed, with a delicacy and balance of composition that denotes true Guerlain mastery. Perfumer Thierry Wasser proves he can carry the baton after all. Who would have thought he'd do it with an Aqua Allegoria?

Available at major department stores £37/€51 for 75ml

 pic via simplewishes.tumblr.com

Madonna Truth or Dare: fragrance review

To extrapolate that Madonna's Truth or Dare celebrity fragrance is a Fracas-inspired vehicle is a given unless you had been living under a rock for the past 20 years. Not only had the reference been clearly made when the classic Fracas by Robert Piguet was re-issued under new directorship sometimes in the mid-1990s (along with the equally classic and controversial Bandit perfume) ~and Madonna was letting the world know she wore Fracas because it reminded her of her mother~ the famous quinquagenarian has been known to love tuberose and gardenia anyway. True to form, though not daringly enough, her fragrance Truth or Dare, late on the bandwagon of celebrity fumes, is indeed a sharp, loud tuberose with added side notes of waxy gardenia, coconut for a tropical feel to the white flowers and amber-musks in the base. It's the right thing to wear if you're decked in a conservative tailleur and fishnet veil with black eyeliner and red lipstick and horny after a handsome toreador just like Madonna herself was in "Take a Bow". (The image says it all, really; lady and tramp in equal measure).

via hollywoodreporter.com

Because Truth or Dare is a true celebrity perfume (the face behind it infinitely more important than the juice), but at the same time coming from a celebrity who is well known for her genuine interest in fragrances and her vast collection, I decided to evaluate the fragrance in a "game" of plus and cons. After all, Madonna has played the Madonna-Whore duality herself for decades.

The minus points
By now tuberose and gardenia have been tackled beyond the iconic Fracas in a pleiad of guises by niche perfume companies, sometimes to incredible results: The natural green and tropical vibrancy of Carnal Flower by Frédéric Malle is hard to beat. The silkiness of the initially mentholated Tubéreuse Criminelle by Serge Lutens is unsurpassable. The refinement of Beyond Love by Kilian, very close to Fracas, but a bit more natural feeling, is a wonder of artistry and nature: Calica Becker used the fresh flowers as a reference to narrow the gap between the oil and the real blossom and the injection of coconut gives a sensuous mantle of real human skin. For real gardenia we have Estée Lauder Private Collection Tuberose Gardenia which smells as real as the living thing, green buds, browning petals and all.

Madonna's effort therefore seems too little, too late. If Truth or Dare had been issued 15 or even 10 years ago (why wasn't it? that is the question) we would have been more responsive to its white flowers message. By now, it's almost a cliché. (And inspires its own caricature, please open with caution) Even Kim Kardashian has issued her very own version in her first fragrance; with an added dose of sugarcane, of course...And if rock-babe Courtney Love issues a celebrity perfume in the future, I'm sure she will get endless propositions on the same model of tuberose-gardenia given her self-proclaimed love of Fracas as well. (Whether she will capitulate though, that's another matter)

The plus points
Presenting a waxy tuberose-gardenia combo ~and a loud, unashamed one at that~ to the audience of teeny-bopper consumers who are used to sugar-laced sanitised white florals or fruity swirls with a ton of ethylmaltol & patchouli in there is commendable. Obviously not only teenagers have a right to a celebrity perfume and fans of Madge have reason to celebrate, I guess. It's not going to garner you "youthful" comments though, be prepared (Not a bad thing in itself) and if you live in a subdued environment that only tolerates "clean" non-perfumey perfumes and winces at anything else, you will have to wear this at home alone with the windows taped.

As to the perfume composition, the duality of the name Truth or Dare is cleverly built into the formula overseen by Coty. There is on the one hand the tropical, sweet, nail polish acrid, very indolic (with jasmine and jasmolactones), loud white floral tentacle with a hint of lily; lethal and femme fatale. On the other hand there is the more subdued belly of resinous ingredients, benzoin, emitting a hint of vanilla, amber and the blank canvas of synthetic musks, giving an almost monastic feel due to their subdued effect and low projection. This schizoid personality of Madonna's Truth or Dare seems totally intentional and for that reason I can't but admire the smarts (and dare I say, the guts).

Bottom Line: Madonna wouldn't be shamed to death to be caught wearing her celebrity perfume, which is more than I can say for many other celebrity scents out there. If you are a lover of Fracas, tuberose-gardenia compositions and loud, a tad vulgar-but-out-for-a-good-time perfumes, it's worth a try.

Note: The ad campaign has been deemed too racy for prime-time. Was this really unexpected? Nope...  

Related reading on Perfume Shrine: Tuberose perfumes reviews, Gardenia perfumes reviews, Celebrity Scents