Guerlain Jardins de Bagatelle (1983): Fragrance Review

History has a way of repeating itself: hard to believe nowadays but less has not always been more.

~by guest writer AlbertCAN

Sometimes only more is more. The French Rococo period, for one, and so was the 80s. It is hardly surprising then that Jardins de Bagatelle, Guerlain’s tribute to the grand frivolity of a French imperial pursuit, was introduced in 1983.

Nearly thirty years later I have seldom heard the tale told in its entirety. Perhaps because of the typical Guerlain complexity in its inspiration? Or perhaps its somewhat awkward placement within the Guerlain archive, tucked between the fabled Chamade (1969), Parure (1975), Nahéma (1979) and Samsara (1989)? Either case the story is far too fascinating to be left ignored.

Bagatelle: A Brief Trifle History

Jean-Paul Guerlain’s inspiration came from the garden found within the Château de Bagatelle, an eighteenth-century gem tucked within the Bois de Boulogne, in the XVIe arrondissement of Paris . Don’t be fooled by the name Bagatelle: this estate is not name after an illustrious personality; quite the opposite. In fact, it is a term most frivolous in nature, from the Italian bagattella and reserved to describe a thing of little importance, a mere trifle!

Everything started with a bet: In 1775 the the Comte d'Artois purchased the property with the intention of an overhaul; his sister-in-law, Marie Antoinette, perhaps out of sheer boredom, wagered that the new château could not possibly be completed within one hundred days. She was proven wrong: the Comte engaged the neoclassical architect François-Joseph Bélanger to design and had the whole thing all to himself in mere sixty-three days. That’s not to say that the architect skimped on luxury in order to hasten the completion—in true Rococo fashion the garden immediately surrounding the Château de Bagatelle is famously redolent of heady florals, as attested by the rambling roses blooming in profusion within the opening photo. And that’s a mere corner of the château.

But there’s more: according to MONSIEURGUERLAIN the blog, the venerable house further revealed that the rhythm of the fragrance was inspired by Goyescas, written by Spanish composer Enrique Granados. Now without knowing which of the six Guerlain was referring to I shall persent my personal favorite, and the most famous of them all, is “Quejas, o la maja y el ruiseñor” (The Maiden and the Nightingale), played here by Jorge Luis Prats.

Now in this context the second usage of the word ‘bagatelle’ is also utilized, describing here a short piece of music, typically for the piano, and usually of a light, mellow character. The name here serves as a reference to the innocent character of the piece (not necessarily, of course, the lack of technical and artistic demands of the music, as many piano students fall out one way for another upon learning the music).

Jardins de Bagatelle: The Guerlain Twist

Given its heady égeries one shouldn’t expect less from Jardins de Bagatelle, referred by some as the scent of the whole garden bottled! In fact it is precisely this fact that yours truly prefers the eau de toilette incarnation, and then only in light application!

The exercise in diffusion starts with violet and classic aldehydes, finessed by citruses such as lemon and bergamot. Then lo and behold, true to the Goyescas style, a barrage of white florals flies across: gardenia, rose, orange blossom, tuberose, magnolia, ylang ylang, orchid, lily-of-the-valley, narcissus, not to mention tuberose, the queen of narcotic floral (and one of Marie Antoinette’s favourites). At the hands of a perfumer with less calibre all this would surely spell disaster, yet the suppleness of the Guerlinade accord really pulls through and keeps the whole flock flying in formation, especially with the help of base notes consisting of cedarwood, musk, patchouli, tonka bean and vetiver. Translation: never meant for the faint hearted. Now some valued Guerlain clients are not used to such blunt development, though overall I’m not too troubled by it once dialing down the overall volume; some might turn blue with a bombastic woodsy-floral from the 80s, but personally the sillage is, in my humble opinion, enjoyable at an extremely deft hand. Testament to its prowess I have never seen a parfum edition for Jardins de Bagatelle; the eau de parfum was always meant to be the most concentrated version of this pillar.

Note: Personally I never had any problem with the quality of this eau de toilette, and I’ve read favourable review even after the supposed reformulation. Then again if you have recent encounters please do chime in!

As for the bottle designer Robert Granai interpreted the shoulder emphasis of the 80s with savoir-faire by folding the motif into classic Guerlain bottle aesthetics. Honestly it’s one of my favourite bottles from Guerlain: clean, to the point, but essentially romantic at heart.

Related reading on Perfume Shrine: Guerlain series

Photos, from top: Jardins de Bagatelle rose trellis from Paris the blog; Château de Bagatelle from Wiki; portrait of Comte d'Artois from Wiki; portrait of Marie Antoinette from Wiki; Guerlain Jardins de Bagatelle advertisement from the 80s, via CouleurParfum.

Frederic Malle Carnal Flower: fragrance review

Carnal Flower by Frédérick Malle alludes to the perception of tuberoses as flowers of "spiritual ruin"; at one point in time they were actually thought to provoce an instant orgasm to the fair maidens who might smell them!! Imagine the prudish customs of yesterdays challenged by that thought....In reality, Frédérick Malle seeking to author a white floral (no line is complete without it), visited California, where both surroundings and ladies exude scents of gardenia and tuberose apparently. But Malle is also Louis Malle's, the famous film director's, nephew, and therefore related to actress Candice Bergen, Malle's wife from 1980 till his death in 1995.

Inspirations
Candice Bergen, a Californian by birth, despite the "cool ice princess" facade proved how there is fire and passion beneath it, both in her personal choices and -relevantly to our discussion- in one memorable film, Carnal Knowledge by Mike Nichols in 1971. As Susan, shagged by Jack Nicholson and shared (and eventually married to) Art Garfunkel, the safer bet of two wandering males, she gives a bleak and blunt portrayal of the inherent mortality of romance and the decaying beauty of sex. The young Frédérick Malle had thus one part of the illustrious concept of his fragrance down pat! Carnal Flower it would be and the star would be a man-eating flower.

Composition
The rest was masterful orchestration: Composed by Dominique Ropion, renowned creator of the wonderful Ysatis by Givenchy , the horrifically flamboyant and attention-grabbing Amarige by the same designer and the controversial Une Fleur de Cassie for Malle again (no mean feat, its strong animalic base acting as a conversation piece among the brave), the new fragrance on the sketching board naturally presented an olfactory challenge as tuberose is one of those smells that can be heavenly or hellish, no in-betweens : the orchestration and interpretation is all that matters. A flair for the intense on the recipients' part is also mandatory , it would seem....

Perufmery Tuberoses: Where does Carnal Flower Stand?
The history of tuberose in perfumery passes through that parfum phare as the French say (a "lighthouse perfume", a landmark more like it): Fracas, conceived by the fauvist Germaine Cellier for Robert Piguet, with its fleshy, lush contradicting qualities edged upon the two extremes: creamy, candy-ish beauty and violent hystrionics leading to decay. Blonde by Versace is its poorer , aspiring -and rather successful- imitator with a flamboyant style that is very Italian, a civet come-hither innuendo and quite pleasant in calculated moderation especially in extrait de parfum. Serge Lutens Tubéreuse Criminelle presents a peculiar problem : one has to wait for the crucial first 15 minutes, when the demonic camphor note subsides, giving reign to the glorious creaminess and silky softness of the flower. Caron's Tubereuse is very radiant , yet perfume-y although lighter and not suited to today's sensibilities, I find. Carolina Herrera (the original one by the famous designer) is a bit too operatic, being so much infused with another bombshell : jasmine. Some of the rest (Lauder's Private Collection Tuberose Gardenia and Do Son by Diptyque) are either more positioned towards gardenia or too light for carnal aspirations. Vamp a NY by Honore des Pres is more candied than that and with a generous helping of pink jasmine, although equally magnificent. Tuberose perfumes are a real continent: there are variations in the verdure to suit everyone.
Carnal Flower was from the beginning a mission into offering something different.

Scent Profile
Studying the odor of the real living blossom, which is apparently everywhere in California, the quintessentially French company Editions des Parfum Frédéric Malle has managed to capture the air of a tropical garden at dusk, full of the breeze and the richness of the dangerously seductive blossoms inside the austere looking bottles of Carnal Flower. Malle himself was encouraging Ropion to go the extra mile, per their official info, while the concept was in the cards from the very beginning, going into speed dial when Ropion was introduced to a new "corrected" absolute de tubereuse: Americans love tuberose flowers. Hence the addition of a coconut note and strong salicylates with musks, boosted with orange blossom absolute, all familiar apertures, which channel a warm and inviting quality. But they also want a seemingly fresh scent, something that will titillate the nostrils and the mind. The camphor note, reminiscent of eycalyptus leaves, is a necessity: At once freeing the weight of the inherent indolic character of the blossom, which browns as it decays, and imitating the exhalation of tuberose in nature: greenish and somewhat mentholic from afar.  Yet the mentholated note does not make a grand appearence in Carnal Flower like it does in Tubéreuse Criminelle: the composition is therefore less striking, arguably less thought-provoking, but more wearable by more people as a result. Not a jarring note in sight; even the fruitier notes, like coconut and melon, are interspersed through sleight of hand to evoke freshness and sensuousness. Like Candice Bergen, it's beautiful, but then again, not without wits or substance, and although undeniably sensual and sexy, it is high class and a lady, not a slut, at all times. (For slut, if you choose, you can resort to Musc Ravageur by the same niche perfume company)

The development of Carnal Flower is smooth, into a heart of pure tuberose absolute with a sweet coconut-like facet (like Coppertone suntan lotion, another California reference) and solar salicylates (a natural pheromone of blossoms that aids pollination), without great changes throughout its drydown. The amount of tuberose absolute used is the greatest in use in all current perfumery: any more of this and you might burst! The initial opulence remains intact while after some minutes a slightly bitter-sweet, rubbery quality ascends to the surface, a natural effect of the real flower. It should be advised not to overdo the application because of this element. As it weaves its magic though, it never becomes cloying, but it does seem to steal the scene and all the best lines audible from several paces away. Carnal Flower is loud enough to be a classic-in-the-making.

If you're among those who find the fragrance overwhelming (and it can be), the exquisite Beurre Exquis in Carnal Flower (a body butter infused with the gorgeous smell of the fragrance) might be a lighter, subtler option for you with decent sillage and lasting power. Highly recommended and worth the monetary outlay.

Notes for F.Malle Carnal Flower:
Top: bergamot, melon, camphor
Heart: tuberose absolute, ylang-ylang, jasmine, orange blossom
Base: tuberose basolute, coconut, white musk



pic of Candice Bergen via youlookfiine.wordpress.com

Cooking with Essential Oils: Perfuming Food with Tuberose and Dill

One of the greatest joys of being a perfume writer and an amateur cook is combining the appreciation of scents into fields that surpass their own boundaries and leep into peripheral matter. Whenever I pick up a fresh cucumber at the open market for my preparation of tzatziki dip I lean to smell its smooth peel, often asking the seller to cut one in half in front of my very eyes so I can judge by smell; and nary does a day of food shopping goes by that I am not reminded by the aromata in front of me of ingredients in fine fragrance. The same principle applies when picking up flowers to adorn my house at the florist's, the hothouse or just while trailblaizing in the countryside; succumbing to the grace of the scent bouquet that even the simplest blossom exhibits is akin to discovering the complexity of the cosmos.

Imagine my elation when I was asked by a perfumer who has been using, procuring and even harvesting her own aromatic essences for long to test her newly-launched essences for food. For a long time I thought I was the only one to use orange blossom hydrosol for my Christmas cookies, yuzu essence to aromatize my sponge cake and peppermint drops into the big vat of Mojito cocktail served on the verandahs when entertaining in the summertime. Apparently, I was not and now many more will find it easier still.


Anya McCoy who just launched this line assures us that the essential oils used are of the highest quality and tested for tolerance in use in food: "I've been using natural essential oils and absolutes to perfume my food and drinks since 1978. I have been sourcing quality oils since 1970, so please know that the oils I offer for the Anya's Garden food and drink line are of the highest quality. These are the same aromatic oils that I use in my perfumes. [...]These oils and absolutes are GRAS - Generally Recognized as Safe by the USDA. They may also be used for creating perfumes.".



In what is thought of as "oils" she also has several things to divulge: "Essential oils are made by steam- or hydrodiffusion of plant materials, in a process called 'distillation'. The "oils" aren't necessarily oils as we think of them, meaning the fixed oils. They're often much more ethereal than that, and many are lighter than water, and will float on water. However, water can also be used to disperse them, especially when the tiny amount you'll be using is placed in water. You can experiment with seltzer water, some simple syrup and ice."

The two essences with which I played extensively were tuberose and dill, tuberose being an essence I picked myself exactly because of its challenging nature which doesn't immediately produce thoughts related to food. And yet Tuberose Absolute (Polianthus tuberosa) is a must for anyone with an interest in perfumery, but also anyone with the desire to experience the complexity of nature, red in tooth and claw! Perfumes try to approximate with Beyond Love by Kilian and Carnal Flower being perhaps the truest to realism, although a few, such as Fracas or Tubereuse Criminelle, tend to overshadow some aspects in order to highlight others; butteriness and sweetness via copious orange blossom in the Piguet classic, menthol via camphoraceous notes in the Lutens cult scent.
My thinking about experiencing this marvel of nature in consumable form went around the facets of tuberose essence itself: Being familiar with Indian tuberose absolute I well knew the intensity of its deep, intoxicating aroma with rubbery and green tonalities over the lactonic sweet and "cheesier" ones.
My mind went into the route of cordials, long cool drinks that are always a refreshing and aromatic proposition welcome on our shores, to exploit the sweeter side of tuberose, but also giving an unexpected jolt that would create the effect that juniper produces in good gin: aromatic depth and crispness. The following recipe can be a good substitute of a Kir Royale or a Spritzer if instead of water you add some brut Champagne.
I'm also starting to think of what it might do to a decent Margherita!

Recipe for Lime and Tuberose Cordial
Ingredients

• Limes
• Sugar granulated
• Anya's Garden tuberose essence
• crushed ice
• fresh spearmint for decoration
  
• optional: Champagne, brut
  

Method

• Hand-juice as many limes as you like (I like the rougher "texture" of hand-juicing)
  
• Measure the juice using a measuring jug to determine sugar ratio
  
• For every litre of juice you will need 1 kilo of granulated sugar
• Put the juice and sugar into a large pan and heat very gently over low heat
  
• Stirring continually heat till the sugar is completely dissolved
• Add one drop of tuberose essence for every litre of juice when "cooking" has finished
  
• Let it cool, then add chilled water/champagne and crushed ice and decorate with spearmint
  

À votre santé!

Dill is another aroma with which I am intimately familiar. Fresh dill is a joy; small bunches of long, stamen-like delicate "leaves" that get routinely chopped off into soups, yoghurt pastes and cheese-pies, alongside shallots and fresh spearmint, or sprinkled onto fresh sliced cucumbers themselves sprinkled with salt. They aromatize the whole kitchen with the scents of springtime.
I also adore dill in hovmästarsås, the traditional Swedish sauce that accompanies gravlax, the cured hearty salmon dish. The fresh, slightly peppery, slightly wet aroma of dill mixes with sugary mustard and is cut by the saltiness of the fish.

To play with dill essence, I used it in something I make almost every week: tzatziki dip. This garlicky, thick paste is traditionally Greek and accompanies almost every variety of charcoal-grilled meat as well as several dishes of pasta, such as the famous Kahzak and Kyrguz recipe for Tatar Böregi (which the Turkish and the Greek who borrowed it call it "manti"). It's also the meanest dip for crudites! Just remember to brush your teeth and tongue afterwards to get rid of the garlic smell.


Recipe for Tzatziki Paste with Dill essence

Ingredients

• 2 fresh and aromatic cucumbers (do NOT buy if they don't smell fresh and green)
  
• 2 large pots of fresh, super thick strained Greek yoghurt with at least 8% solid fats (Fage is the widest distrubted brand and it's very good in 10% fat content, but if you have a local Middle-Eastern deli go and ask for fresh "strained yoghurt" served and packed by weight on cellophane)
  
• Anya's Garden dill essence
• 5-8 cloves of garlic (it's best to use raw garlic than powdered, it's more authentic)
  
• salt and lemon zest to taste
• a spoonful of extra virgin olive oil
• optional: capers and black olives for decorating
  

Method

• Empty the yoghurt into a big bowl and let it sit covered with a towel. It might have a little bit of water surfacing. Throw that out with a spoon carefully. You want it to be as thick and creamy as possible.
  
• Wash the cucumbers thoroughly and shred them in an onion hand-shredder/grater roughly
  
• Add the cucumbers into the yoghurt
• Clean and slice the garlic finely, you want it to be imperceptible, add to yoghurt
  
• Put 3-4 drops of dill essence into the mix
• Add lemon zest and salt to taste
• Decorate with the capers and olives and refrigerate. The longer it sits the richer it tastes.
• When you serve, spill the extra virgin olive oil on top. It makes the colours and flavours come alive!

Καλή όρεξη!


You can purchase the aromatic essences directly off Anya's Garden site. There will be more additions in the beginning of May. Tuberose is among them.

Other bloggers are writing about this too! Check out Anne's Food, Ca Fleure Bon, Better Baking, Bois de Jasmin and Stirring the Senses.

Educational Resource:
Guide to Career Education can assist amateur cooks with finding a good mix of art and cooking classes that will help you think outside the box when it comes to your cooking creations.

Disclosure: I was sent a sample of the essential oils by the perfumer.

Honore des Pres Vamp a NY: fragrance review

Forget everything you might associate with vamps, vampires or New York City; Vamp à NY by all naturals line Honoré des Prés is the perfect Hitchcockian MacGuffin. It's a fragrance that begs to be worn by someone intelligent enough to not have any aspirations of appearing brainy; someone with fuschia painted lips popping a gigantic pink bubblegum just for the heck of it or at the very least soap bubbles at a party. Or, else, by someone sporting the XY chromosome and enough humour to not be afraid to challenge smartly. Anything else and it would be a travesty. But the name is essential to the (misleading) plot.



Vamp à NY by Honoré des Prés opens on a typical light camphor note (via tuberose absolute, which also smells a bit like buttered/creamed pop corn with peaches sliced on top, due to the lactone content; see more of that "peaches n' cream" effect on Péché Cardinal) and segues into a rum-like booziness. A logical choice on the part of perfumer Olivia Giacobetti because of the coconut nuances of both the flower and the tropical associations this exotic bloom brings to mind. Indeed the hint of vanillic coconut recalls tanning oils, making this one tuberose fragrance which leans most to the tropical side than almost anything else. The effect thrives on a balsamic quality about it that were it an oriental we would be talking about a snuggly cashmere sweater scent. But it's its summery equivalent.
The intensely sweet, profusely fruity progression is full of pink jasmine (and I think I smell ylang ylang with a hint of sassafras) which naturally recalls those giant pink Bazooka bubblegums we popped as children. March notes it holds "a peculiarly synthetic quality to [her] nose — it’s just sooo much and so odd, with its root beer, banana Runts and vanilla-caramel Sugar Daddy." Luckily for me, I don't have these particular American childhood associations, funny as she makes them to be, but I can see how this would be a polarising scent.

Needless to say, if you're opposed to sweet white florals en masse, you need to steer clear away without further thought; this is, despite its botanical provenance (100% certified organic ingredients), a VERY sweet floral! Those who can appreciate the buttery quality of intensely flowery Fracas however might find that the addition of Vamp à NY into the tuberose canon is not only a sort of homage but also a thoughtful and truly wonderful chapter; a luscious scent!
The necessity to own this delightfully campy & fun fragrance only comes when comparing with other tuberose/"huge white floral scents": Fracas is similarly buttery, yet grander and with more pronounced oomph, making it more of an entrance perfume. Carnal Flower is greener overall with a mock sophistication beneath its easy veneer. Tubéreuse Criminelle is truer to vampirism than this one; it's cool, silkier, with a more mentholated opening. Compared with Manoumalia, the latter is earthy, with more vetiver, certainly less sweet than Vamp à NY, intent as the former is on the fragrea blossom and the hint of spice. Nuit de Tubéreuse is more complex with a mildew thing going on, possibly stemming from a desire to appear brainier than it is. Vamp à NY actually mostly resembles the mood and feel of Songes, especially in Eau de Toilette concentration, which is of course full of ylang ylang, and it also reminded me of the little-known (and very rare now) original version of Jour de Fête by L'Artisan Parfumeur ~when the brand was still run by Jean Laporte and this was a quirky white floral scent, instead of a nutty gourmand)

Quiet sillage with rather good lasting power for a botanical fragrance makes it even more enjoyable; I'm sorely tempted to search for more!


Notes for Vamp à NY by Honoré des Prés:
Top: tuberose, rum
Heart: Bourbon vanilla
Base: tuberose, Peru balsam, Tolu balsam, benzoin

Vamp à NY by Honoré des Prés (a niche brand directed by Christian David) is part of the "New York Collection" which debuted at French Colette and is now available at select stockists. The 2010 collection includes three fragrances: I Love les Carottes, Love Coco and Vamp à NY, created of 100% natural ingredients by perfumer Olivia Giacobetti. These organic fragrances are packed in an unconventional way; as depicted, the bottles of 50ml Eau de Parfum come in plastic cups similar to those in which New Yorkers take out their coffee in.
Misleading!

Photograph by John Rawlings for a vintage Vogue photoshoot.

Diptyque Do Son: fragrance review

Tuberose (Polianthes tuberose): the flower of spiritual ruin, the carnal blossom, the heady mistress of the night (nishigandha or rajnigandh in India, a reader informs me), a lily plant originally native to the Americas. Do Son: a coastal resort in Vietnam that inspired Yves Coueslant, one the founders of Diptyque, to name thus their fragrance. It launched in autumn 2005 in a time frame not especially receptive to such compositions, at least in the Northern hemisphere. The two combine in an unexpected composition by perfumer Fabrice Pelegrin in Do Son, the perfume and the time is now more than ripe to reap its cooling benefits. Diptyque sounds a bit like diptych, the two-paneled painting so popular in religious art. Yves Coueslant has associations with Vietnam obviously and tuberose is used for pious rituals in that country, which begs the question why on earth we haven’t incorporated it in ours as well.

Tuberose has traditionally been seen as dangerous due to its intense odour profile, its headiness, the spin it produces in one’s head when one inhales deeply. In 19th century Victorian-era young girls were discouraged from smelling it, as it signified both voluptuousness and dangerous pleasures, in an effort to keep their “purity” from naughty thoughts. Flowers are after all the sexual organs of plants...

Do Son however could pass the test of chastity, I think. With its airy and crystalline character, it manages to smell like a diaphanous gauze draped around the body of an eastern girl with hair flowing. Like a fluted ornament by a crafted Murano technician, like the breeze of warm air on one’s face while walking in a summer garden.

Compared to other tuberose scents, the most iconic of which among perfume circles is Germaine Cellier’s classic Fracas, it is nothing like them, since most rely on the carnal aspects of tuberose and marry it with other heavy numbers such as jasmine and orange blossoms, enhancing tuberose's rubbery or creamy facets. Fracas is almost brutal in its bombshell beauty, a trait that rocketed it into the hearts of the rich and famous. Gianfranco Ferré for women, Carolina Herrera, and Blonde by Versace ( a wannabe Fracas that is actually very nice in parfum, surprisingly) are all heady seduction numbers destined for discerning women of a more mature age. Maitre Parfumeur et Gantier’s Tubéreuse is also very sweet and shares that element of opaqueness with the rest. Tubéreuse Criminelle by Serge Lutens is a completely different, unique affair.

Do Son rather shares the light playful tuberose note of L’artisan’s La Chasse aux Papillons or even Carnal Flower’s (although the latter is more exotic smelling) and weaves it through in a similarly girly formula that makes it perfect for young coquettes.

Do Son by Diptyque opens on a rather green and also slightly citrusy start of light orange blossom, to then proceed to tuberose mingled with light rose and smooth iris. Rose is an official note; however my nose which is a tad biased to all things rosy, doesn’t discern it clearly. The powderiness of iris is not especially present here either, although I can smell its earthiness and the whole remains very bright, very happy, with nary a melancholy or poignant note that iris might add. The finish off with white musk (synthetic clean musks as opposed to animalic) makes it linger seductively on the skin for some time, never intruding, just reminding you of its presence whenever the body is heated up.
There is also a little element of sourness, at least on the skin if not on blotter, that could make for some disappointment for people who usually complain about such a thing. However the solution to that problem would be to spray one’s clothes. It’s such a light number anyway, that this solution would be probably best to appreciate the fragrance’s volume and sillage.

The bottles of Diptyque perfume are always a chic, understated affair. It is obvious that those three friends who founded the company (Desmond Knox-Leet, Christiane Gautrot and Yves Coueslant), had been students at the Ecole des Beaux Arts. You know upon opening the box that you’re in the presence of unquestionable bon gout. Here the sketch of a woman in a garden pavillon is delineated on the label on the austere, rectangular bottle.

Available as Eau de Toilette from Diptyque retailers.

Notes for Diptyque Do Son: tuberose,orange blossom, rose, berries, musk.

artwork by David Graux

Calvin Klein Beauty: fragrance review

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


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

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

Prada Infusion de Tubereuse: fragrance review

The newest Prada fragrance Infusion de Tubéreuse (announced here alongside the masculine Infusion de Vétiver), the latest in the Ephemeral Infusion collection, seems like a triumph of looks over essence: literally!

The gorgeous packaging is based on an old print in the Prada textile archives, where the petals of the flower seem immersed in ink and pressed in a dégradé manner on the carton. I especially like a small details: the caps are "dressed" in the same material so as to co-ordinate. In short, it looks supremely lovely in a 70s Five Easy Pieces way: you suddenly become enamored with cross-eyedness! A new Infusion by Prada would be just as well be launching as "Infusion of a Longing", as the Prada line has so many fans. Obviously someone at the marketing and designing team has a pretty good idea of what they're doing. But, alas, those hunting for a true tuberose scent, that strange mystical mistress of the night with its intense mix of blood, rubber (methyl salylilate) and even meat aromata, will be more than a little crestfallen by this dematerialisation.

In drawing terms it is the opposite of Albercth Dürer's Underweysung der Messung (Instruction in Measurement), showing an artist viewing his subject through a window, compartmentalized into squares, in the hopes to methodically understand and record each detail on gridded drawing paper.
The press material talks about an unexpected tuberose from India, but having familiarised myself with that incomparable, intoxicating essence I remain a little sceptical (Thank God they do mention it's a "fantasy infusion"). No rubbery wintergreen start like in the icy Tubéreuse Criminelle (Serge Lutens), no creaminess as in the diva-esque Fracas, no coconut smidge alongside the mentholated greenery as in Carnal Flower (F.Malle), no decaying indoles to talk about. The woody-musky drydown of the Prada ~and especially the Infusion~ line is there though. Like in Infusion d'Iris, there really isn't a dominant effect of iris ~but rather of a woody blend (much like in Infusion d'Homme too). Was the idea to do a brief impression with a lustrous, cheery beginning like they had done with their Prada boutiques exclusive #6 Tuberose (also opening on neroli notes) or was it simply in line with the Infusion concept of olfactory poltergeists, a "Pradanade" so to speak, spoken in hushed tones and felt in its effect more than being seen?

Perhaps there really is no reinvention of the wheel after all: Do Son by Diptyque was a timid, introductory tuberose gouache with a subtle almost skin-like effect in drydown. Not very true to the essence rendered from the flowers, even though it feels like a composition with naturals; and this is the diverging difference with the Prada. To the pastoral theme of Diptyque, Prada and Daniela Andrier intentionally juxtapose futurism, via more amped up synthetics, which account for a superior staying power, even though it's discreet enough to have those familiar with the Grand French Manner (I assume you're taking the hint) bound to be complaining about it.

As anyone who has a hankering for seeing how "notes" of aromachemicals find their way into the commercial blurb for consumers on the other hand, I have to give them credit for mentioning "dynamone", a Penta chemicals manufacturing product with a sublty amber aroma that is indirectly derived from cistus ladaniferus, in the composition. Why haven't you heard of it before?, you ask. (In fact you have, if you paid attention; it's also included in Closet Queen by Etat Libre d'Orage) Because it's hard to harness into a formula due to technical problems, even though its diffusiveness and tenacity provide a helpful hand in prolonging "skin-scent" accords, such as this one (see a similar concept of that via another route in Prada's L'Eau Ambrée). Personally I wasn't too impressed by the previous limited edition, Infusion de Fleurs d'Oranger , and this one seems to be riding the fast way to nowhere just like Bobby Eroica Dupea. I'll stick with the excellent L'Eau Ambrée myself.

Prada Infusion de Tubéreuse for women is a blend of notes of Indian tuberose, petitgrain bigararde, Italian blood orange and dynamone. It retails at €67 for 50mls at major department stores, available starting April 2010.

Related reading on Perfumeshrine: Fragrances with tuberose, Prada reviews

Photo of borken model dolls by Daikichi Amano via Who Killed Bambi

Annick Goutal Passion: fragrance review

All Annick Goutal perfumes have little stories behind them which adds to the enchanting, small scale appeal they have: Passion was the first fragrance which Annick Goutal created along with perfumer Isabelle Doyen in 1983 for her own use. The second one, inspired by the floral bouquets her husband offered her while courting, was Grand Amour; also a firm favourite of Perfume Shrine and to be tackled later on. Sables was made for Alain, Annick's husband, while Eau de Charlotte and Eau de Camille celebrate her daughters' childhood memories.

Passion dazzles amongst them with its headiness, its perceptible sillage and its great lasting power, "like a flower with translucent antennae and a mauve plastic heart.” Complicated, chewy, cruel, yet beautiful, like life itself, Passion made Tania Sanchez reserve one of her more poetic reviews of it in Perfumes,The Guide: "It feeks humid, narcotic, unsettling, like a moonless July night without a breeze". It could be one of those nights about which Raymond Chandler wrote: "Meek little wives feel the edge of the carving knife and study their husbands' necks."

The artistry of course lies in how to manipulate the (excellent) materials: The exotic Ylang-Ylang has facets of banana and even coconut; sweet, buttery, creamy, almost bulemic. On its other end though it encompasses methyl salicylate which recalls wintergreens. Tuberose has facets of camphor which act as a counterbalance of its intense white floral sweetness. Pair them with a bitter green touch which supports the already present caphoraceous scheme (tomato vine leaves, the same as used in Eau de Campagne by Sisley and Folavril again by Goutal, plus oakmoss) and some vanilla to offset the "fruitiness" of the bouquet and you've got something unique!
Passion starts with a heady caphoraceous blast of what can only be sensed as vibrant tropical florals snowballing a cadenza of sweet and green notes that unify to the point where you don't know where the garden ends and the woman starts. There is something very ladylike about Annick Goutal fragrances, yet in classic French tradition the lady in question can forget all about ladylike manners in the bedroom. Passion is carnal, yet delicate and fragile at the same time, like a 22-year-old ready to be consumed by love. And even older ones...

Notes for Annick Goutal Passion: Jasmine, tuberose, ylang-ylang, vanilla, tomato leaves, patchouli, oakmoss.

Passion by Annick Goutal is available as Eau de Toilette (100ml) and Eau de Parfum (50ml, 100ml) in boutiques carrying the Goutal line and several online venues. Check Lianne Tio's Nederthelands boutique on this link as well.

Related reading on Perfume Shrine: Annick Goutal news & reviews, Interview with perfumer Isabelle Doyen

Photo from the film Betty Blue, 37.2°C le Matin via livejournal/Ohnotheydidn't. Photo of bottle of Passion by Elena Vosnaki.

Dior J'Adore: fragrance review & J'Adore Versions (L'Eau Cologne Florale, J'Adore L'Absolut, J'Adore L'Or) on the Market

Accessing the popularity stakes and artistic success of a bestseller is never an easy thing. Perhaps it's the competitors who speak most frankly about its cachet: As Thierry Wasser, head perfumer at Guerlain at the moment, revealed in an interview on Swiss television, "Every one of us wants to make the next J'Adore!"
The aphorism ~on a fragrance with a name that means "I LOVE it!"~ was meant to convey the ubiquitousness of the scent, its staggering approval by consumers from young to old. Such ubiquitousness in fact that its commercial's televised air-time 10 years after its introduction in 1999 has raised questions on a popular perfume forum about the reasons behind it!

The makings of a best-seller
You see, gone are the days of Chanel No.5 when commercials were running for the same scent for decades: Today the fast-paced churning out of fragrances means that the bombarding with advertising images changes dramatically from season to season with the latest and the glossiest catching page after page and air-minute after air-minute in an attempt to lure us into the Great New Thing. Alas, so very few times they deliver. Yet there is no question about Christian Dior's fragrance enduring presence in both the media and ~what's more important~ on the dressers and the bodies of countless women on the planet: Yes, by that token Dior's J'Adore is a modern classic!

Stating such a claim makes eyebrows raise on perfumistas' foreheads, accustomed as they are to the exclusive, the arcane, the unattainable or alternatively the vintage, the classic and the ultra-rare. But the beauty of perfumery is that one doesn't need to go up digging for Alexander the Great's grave (a task several worthy people have been unsuccessful at, its location forever unknown); one can find a good thing even almost on their doorstep (or in this case their local Sephora) and like Alexander's golden locks it is gilded and shiny with its "giraffe women" necklaces around the stem of the bottle and screaming with every drop of its jus "I'm covetable". A gorgeous face in Charlize Theron's shoes strutting her statuesque shape is challenging ~but also promising to~ every woman to become a living goddess! "Woman is an idol, and must be adorned to be adored," wrote Charles Baudelaire and Dior was quick to snatch the immortal line for their own purposes.

Pinkification: more to it than meets the eye

J'Adore (pronounced Za-DORH) clout however took an unexpected and fascinating path to form. Back in 1999 the fruity floral vogue was just catching on, as consumers tired of the acquatics and ozonics of the 90s and of the realisation that the dot com prodigies were not something to sustain the economy as foretold were searching for a little girliness, a little pinkiness ~even a reversion to the mental age of Barbie some would say! (and who can blame them in retrospect?) A recent article at The Guardian talks about the pinkification of our culture where beauty "gurus" emote in exalted girly-tones that could shutter crystal and have you screaming up the walls with devious and not so devious plans on assassinating the perpatrators of those auditory crimes. (parodies abound, so not all hope is foresaken). The cultural background of this phenomenon is vaster than the scope of those pages, yet a fragrance such as J'Adore managed to come aboard at the exact time when the wave of girlishness was gaining momentum. And we have to grugingly admit: Among all the girly fruity florals, J'Adore actually manages to inject a little womanly touch there too: It's not completely air-headed!
In Dior's portfolio it is something of a chasm, a no man's land where the classics (Miss Dior, Diorissimo, Eau Fraiche, Diorama, Diorling, Diorella, Dior-Dior and Dioressence) along with the established (Dune, Poison and some of the latter's flankers) veered off in favour of the modern specimens which are targeted to a different audience (Addict, Addict Shine, Forever and Ever etc.).

In a way J'Adore was the catalyst which ushered the pounding thumb of fruity florals not only chez Dior but along the widths and the breadths of the feminine fragrance market. Calice Becker, the perfumer behind J'Adore, is famous for her symphonic yet non-obese florals. Essentially linear, J'Adore begins and ends on a complicated yet quite fresh bouquet that oscillates between the velvety sheen of orchids and champaca with their sensuous air and the fruitier elements of rich plum, sprinkled with droplets of sweet citrus fruit, hints of greenery and a soupçon of violet & rose coquetry (ionones). The whole is underscored by cassis (a synthetic base very popular in the 80s, also used in Poême with which it shares an indefiniable vibe) with subtle woods. The longer the perfume stays on the more it projects that latter element. The eau de parfum's tenacity is indeed phenomenal and it manages to radiate even from the blotter for a while.

And when all is said and done, it smells nice. I wouldn't trail the Himalayan Route for it like I would with other fragrances and it's a little too sweet and ubiquitous for my personal tastes, but it's a round, feminine scent that attracts compliments. Think about how women have passed you by at the street, your nostrils quivered at their scent and you almost murmured j'adore....

Notes for Christian Dior J'Adore: Mandarin, champaca flowers, ivy, African orchid, rose, violet, Damascus plum, amaranth wood, blackberry musk

Dior J'Adore Special Editions and Flankers
The face of J'adore was initially Esthonian beauty Carmen Kaas, but it was Hollywood star Charlize Theron who really "clicked" and gave J'Adore an immense visual advantage.

J'Adore is available at every Dior counter everywhere, available in the following versions/flankers:

1) the original J'Adore Eau de Parfum concentration (1999) in the golden toned bottle depicted in the ads and reviewed above

2) the lighter and less plummy J'Adore Eau de Toilette (2002)  in the silvery-toned design (pictured on the right). In 2011 the eau de toilette concentration was re-orchestrated (due to changes in perfumery regulations) by Francois Demachy, giving it a sweeter and fresher appeal, and repackaged in the gold scheme packaging and presentation, only differentiated from the EDP by the notification on the packaging.

3) the magnificent, limited (and costlier) edition of J'Adore L'Absolu  (2007) a delightfully intense version of the classic favorite with Turkish rose, tuberose, and jasmine combine to make a truly pretty floral" (Eau de Parfum Absolute, created by Francois Demachy). A superior version of the formula, developed by Francois Demachy with premium floral essences.

4) the J'Adore L' Eau Cologne Florale  2009 (the bottle is in golden tones, but a little more slender), which reprises the floral theme with touches of lemony magnolia to render a very current modernisation of the brand. The range is complimented with ancilary body products and is often augmented with special editions that reprise the design of the bottle.

5) J'Adore L'Or is a essence de parfum edition launched in 2010 with the neck of the bottle in thin gold threads and the same amphora style body, available only in 40ml. It's an amped up and more expensive version of the eau de parfum with sweeter and headier florals and a more lasting and very perceptible vanilla base.

6) A limited edition from 2007 highlighting the jasmine note is J'Adore Le Jasmin, available in 100ml of alcohol-free eau de toilette for the summer. Longer, leaner amphora bottle, but otherwise same, with a box reading "summer fragrance" underneath the name. Not to be confused with the 2004 summer fragrance, which is encased in the familiar bottle that holds EDT or EDP, with the only difference being marked in the box ('summer fragrance').

The following limited editions are only different in the bottle presentation or visuals and do not bear a difference in the scent itself.
Special limited "anniversary" editions of J'Adore en Or come from 2004 and 2009 (for the 5 and 10 years of the market respectively); the former with curved drawn "lines" on the upper body of the matte gold bottle, the latter with a golden medallion with the initials CD hanging on a thread on the transparent glass familiar amphora-shaped body. A shimmery version called J'Adore Divinement d'Or (Gold Supreme) was issued in 2006 with gold shimmer suspended in the juice.

Photo by JeffWestboorke, pics via it's all about life blog