Balmain Carbone 2024: fragrance review

 

Les Éternels de Balmain perfume collection, which the new Carbone is part of, is the house’s first offering since officially launching Balmain Beauty in September. Several classics by Balmain are re-introduced, such as Vent Vert (a modernisation of the couturier's first legendary green fragrance from the 1940s and the favourite fragrance of the then young Brigitte Bardot), Ivoire (1979), Ébène (1983), and Carbone (2010), albeit all with a changed formula, equating to a different scent. 

 The latest edition of Carbone (2024), part of the Musk family, is described as Balmain's new creative director Olivier Rousteing's "baby," and when such pronouncements are made you know there is something that has definitely changed in an older fragrance being re-issued. The new Carbone from 2024 is therefore described as "the heady mix of tobacco, suede, cumin and rose and is already beloved by Beyoncé, Dove Cameron and Olivier's mother." Dove Cameron has been video-scoped sporting the 1945 Balmain clutch bag containing the Carbone fragrance to let this seep in. 

 Carbone 2024 by Balmain is a fragrance that drives the quest for identity. "Housed in a lacquered signature black bottle, it reflects all facets of individuality with an assertive duality of maximalist musk and minimalist rose. The fragrance features white musk, rose neoabsolute [sic], suede, patchouli, sandalwood, and cumin, creating a complex scent where pure and carnal elements unite," states the brand. It's not easy to come up with a novel rose these days, when roses have been typified into two main camps. On the one hand the rose-patchouli-oud mélange of the Arabian tradition meant for westerners who want some bang for their buck and the promise of 1001 Nights enfolding in their evening life, as begat by the commercial and critical success of Portrait of a Lady. To me the new Balmain feels like an effort to bridge both categories above; it's soft, but also retains a more shady tonality. It's not entirely masculine, but it's not froufrou feminine either. Although one might consider it dangerous because of the cumin mentioned in the pyramid, it is not dirty, really, it just has a sensuous quality to its rosiness; it's not the screechy kind. It is not ground-breaking either. 

Balmain's Carbone 2024 is intended to appeal to a very wide demographic, case in point being promoted via celebrities that people want to emulate. And this is maybe its major flaw: When trying to please everyone, one doesn't excite anyone enough.

Balmain Carbone 2024 Fragrance Notes: White Musk, rose, suede, sandalwood, cumin, patchouli

Eau d'Ivoire by Balmain: fragrance review

One often sees young girls looking for a perfume for everyday -clean, that will be well liked by their entourage, that will make them feel feminine, and in full possession of the coolness of their youth. They're offered a pile of branded products in big department stores, and one tends to feel a little bit sorry for the embarrassment; too much choice, but too little distinction. Yet small gems await in the wings. Eau d'Ivoire is a cooler and more modern style variant of the re-launched Ivoire by Pierre Balmain (which gave us legendary fragrances like Vent Vert, Miss Balmain and Jolie Madame) a year later, in 2013. 

 

The relaunched contemporary Ivoire by Balmain is also beautiful, with an aldehyde arrangement of cleanliness and soap, less retro-"mommy" compared to perfumer Francis Camail's 1979 original Ivoire (for some funny reason, the perfumer's name always reminds me of Camay soap ...). 

In Eau d'Ivoire we're dealing with a bright, shiny, dominant magnolia that comes to the fore like a young girl at an event, who radiates natural beauty: fresh flawless skin,  sculpted features, loose lush hair, light-footed dance moves, a gaze with no hidden. You look at her and your mood lifts. 

The fragrance of Eau d'Ivoire has that deliriously attractive acidic feeling that men like so much, the freshness of initial spraying that is combined with the feeling of sophisticated musky skin-like haze underneath, which, although it speaks of cleanliness, does not scratch the nose with the sweetish acrid smell of fabric softener. The aldehydidic profile is weakened compared to the original Ivoire, but it is accompanying in a primo secondo fashion. A hint of soap, of the bath ritual, a feeling of well-being and softness remains on the skin when it dries, with a soupcon of clean fractalized patchouli. 

Eau d'Ivoire lasts a rather long time especially on fabric, but noses almost "destroyed" by a diet too indulgent in synthetic vanilla, patchouli and harsh oudh accords might find it undetectable. Solution? After a bout of gluttony, it takes a little fasting to re-evaluate the subtler nuances of good cooking. A break of sweet and acrid powdery smells will convince you of the truth of my claim. 

Parting shot: Eau d'Ivoire reminds me of the also optimistic beautiful Joie Eclat by Valeur Absolue. 

 

 

Hermes Un Jardin sur la Lagune: fragrance review

In old novels, in the time of Balzac and thereabouts (as I have written in detail before), or even prior to that time, there is the well-known trope of the poor relative, usually female, who receives the second hand clothes of their elders and betters in social status, with the acceptance of keen appreciation of their circumstances. Governesses, school mistresses, nurses, or beneficiaries of a small income of a few pounds or francs a year, thanks to the generosity and sense of due of an almost unknown yet benevolent antecedent. In the world of perfumes, this situation is usual and usually ignites the same condescending acceptance: "close, but no cigar; divested of the elements which make the original truly flamboyant or plush, bon pour l'Orient."

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It's with great pleasure that I found out that Un Jardin sur la Lagune by Hermes (a spring 2019 launch) is an exception to that scenario. One of my favourite and closest to heart fragrances, Lys Méditerranée by perfumer Edouard Fléchier for the niche brand of Frédéric Malle, has a little cousin; one who does not ape the greater one, nor does it deign to wear the elder's hand-me-downs, Un Jardin sur la Lagune by Hermes.

An abstract feeling of petals from flowers of another dimension, of champaca and bliss, unfolds into space like cones which embraces with arms opens wide, with the piquant joy of citrusy touches and the blissful cocoon of white musk.

In Un Jardin sur la Lagune, inspired by a secret Venetian garden which Christine Nagel, in-house perfumer for Hermes, discovered thanks to the writings of a blogger, the feeling of solace and silent contentment is palpable.

The scent of far away algae is delicate in Un Jardin sur la Lagune yet there, the salty water which hits the lonely craggy shore or the foundations of an old building immersed into the water, possesses that sort of introspection, a very humane sense of disorganisation and an ironic look on the state of the Human Condition that even Balzac would be jealous of.

Les Jardins series in the Hermes portfolio is a line of easy and lightweight fragrances which began its course in 2003 with Un Jardin sur la Méditerranée, the impression of a mediterranean garden where people nibble on freshly cut figs. Next came Un Jardin sur le Nil (2005), inspired by a trip to Assouan, in Egypt; then Un Jardin apres la Mousson (2008), evoking the watery landscape of Kerala, India, after the passing of the monsoon; Un Jardin sur le Toit (2011), inspired by the war-time garden on the terrace of the flagship Hermes boutique in Paris, and Le Jardin de Monsieur Li (2015), a minty citrus evoking a special eastern garden. 
All prior Jardin fragrances have been composed by legendary perfumer Jean Claude Ellena (an interview of whom I had the honour of taking HERE), and therefore Un Jardin sur la Lagune is Christine Nagel's first entry in the series. 

Jo Malone Honeysuckle & Davana: fragrance review

Jo Malone's latest fragrance launch Honeysuckle & Davana is advertised as a happy smell and it most definitely is a happy smell. One that feels like fortunate news spreading through the peals of countryside church bells into the distance; smiles in a nursery when the little one first stretches his/her facial muscles into that endearing way that has caretakers have their heart aflutter; or of long lost friends meeting at a long awaited rendez-vous. The brand's choice to illustrate the fragrance with the girl with the canary is spot on, even if canaries do not dot the English countryside by any stretch of the imagination.

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Honeysuckle & Davana is quite fresh and honeyed at the same time, and at that intriguing intersection between warm and cool which I find very alluring. There is an oscillating ribbon of white florals right in the middle of the scent, further cementing that freshness which blooms when the scent is sprayed liberally. This is a fragrance that reveals facets when used in excess, much like their previous Mimosa & Cardamom needs the bigger spray rather than the applying with a small wand on skin testing technique to fully reveal its pretty message. Compared with that other honeysuckle fragrance in the Jo Malone catalogue, Honeysuckle & Jasmine (1999), which used to be quite charming in its naturalistic impression of a fragrant garden at dusk somewhere south, the newer edition is more upbeat, with interesting facets that differentiate it from the white florals that are so screechingly taking over perfume counters as the "immediate femininity" index when the whole isn't hoarding under tons of syrupy sweetness...

In the drydown of Honeysuckle & Davana, we come up with a mix of an earthy note that might be attributed to Evernyl, but which is also mixed with clean, starched white musks (and which provides the very tenacious part, however those who are anosmic to some musks might find this undetectable, so try before you buy).

Annick Goutal Duel: fragrance review

Like erotic opponents distancing themselves from each other only to better aim at the heart with a fatal gunshot, the materials in Annick Goutal's fragrance Duel are juxtaposed, yet strangely sharing common ground. One can't shake the impression they'll both live to tell the tale, till a certain point at the very least.

Paraguayan petit grain, a distillate from the leaves and twigs of the citrus aurantia v.amara aka the bitter orange tree [learn about its many raw materials for perfumery here], gives the citrusy top note, Maté absolute provides a leathery undertone; this South American herb has an aroma between black tea and cut hay. The cunning thing is the two notes complement each other rather than oppose one another; the tang of the former provides a welcome suaveness to the pungency of the latter. Maybe they ought to reconcile and with Gallic charm and a gentle shrug of the shoulders decide to share the damsel after all, if she agrees.

The green aura of the combination of the two raw materials, petit grain and maté absolute  (a common facet of both, their "touching back to back" so to speak) provides a summery diversion.
The house's art director, Camille Goutal, daughter of Annick, and perfumer Isabelle Doyen wanted to exploit the green character of mate absolute as well as its leather-scented backdrop into a modern, avant-garde composition that would appeal to those searching for something gentle yet substantial.
Its many facets (hay billowy softness, refreshing hesperidic tanginess, dry austere tobacco-leather) make it graceful and interesting.

Hints of tobacco and iris ground the airier, more fleeting notes in Duel without weighting them down. A prolonged fuzzy softness due to white musk is what makes the fragrance, although featured as a masculine in the Goutal canon, totally wearable by women as well. Like other masculine scents by Goutal, like the little known Eau du Fier, or the helichrysum roasted feel of Sables, Duel can be shared.

Personally I love using this cologne when wearing khakis and white T-shirts, with only sunscreen and mascara on my face, it seems to complement this kind of 'woman on a journalistic mission' rather well ; sort of gives me the energy I need in the heat to feel collected enough to pursue my line of research.

Bottom line: Duel is quite fresh yet oddly sexy; it smells the way Gabriel Garcia Bernal looks.

Available as eau de toilette 100ml at Goutal counters in select boutiques.

Related reading on Perfume Shrine: 
Annick Goutal perfume reviews and news
The Leather Fragrance Series
Top 10 Masculine Fragrances
Gender Bender: Masculine Colognes Shared by Women, Feminine Fragrances Worn by Men

Histoires de Parfums Petroleum (Edition Rare): fragrance review

All the colors of a bruise: black and blue, teal green edging out in purple, fading to rosy, ending in ochre yellow like ancient parchment.

The electrical buzz of arc-welding, fiery orange sparks filling out the skies, the rusty mine of the shipwreck. The air filled with a mineral, scorched feel. The plank-plank of cork wedges hitting the iron ore at the loading decks.

A leather cloth, all smeared with wax. The musty smell of the hold of an old ship. He had his hair loose and oily with sweat and ambery brilliantine. My hand aching from trying to hold tight onto the lower mast. I said "I'm hurt". He should have said, "honey, let me heal it", like Bruce. Only he never said it; not in so many words.

John Klingel

Petroleum by Histoires de Parfums is Gerald Ghislain's story on oudh, the prophylactic defensive rot on Aquillaria trees and its resinous, nutty, woody, complex scent. Infused with fizzy orange, musty patchouli and a prolonged furry, white musk aftertaste, lasting hours, purring after the roar, Petroleum is the gift of the earth in an unassuming bottle. This oudh étude surpasses many others, in a masterful cadenza of chromatic tonalities: from black and blue, teal green edging out in purple, fading to rosy, ending in ochre yellow like ancient parchment. The chromatics in a drop of "liquid gold", in an old bruise that still aches when pressed.

Divine Spirituelle: fragrance review and samples draw

Certain perfumes give an illusory first impression like people who come into a party seemingly underdressed only to impress you with their smarts and true chic as the night unfolds. Spirituelle, the latest Divine fragrance, an at once delicate and spirited take on the rosy powdery floral, took me a cursory first sniff and then a much more attentive one to appreciate its twists that put the chic into the chica. It ended up winning me and might win you too if you're either a floral phobic or a rose hater, so lend me your eyes for a sec.

Bulle Ogier via Photobucket/francomac123

Two major themes play into the blueprint of Spirituelle. The first one is a dessert-worthy succulent note that derives from the two rose absolutes (one from Turkey, the other from France), flanked by rosy, fresh spice on one side and a smooth lightly ambery caress on the other. The feeling is not unlike the deliciousness of Neela Vermeire's Mohur eau de parfum, rendered here more ethereal and a bit less dense. Never too sweet, but inviting.

The second theme is the wink of a smoky cigarette note that rises only from a certain distance. The French are known for their predilection for smoking and I don't smoke myself as a rule, so the illusory effect is not a trail off my clothing or skin. Rather it recalls the practice of French perfumes of yore which had a compatible ambience to human habits: food, sex, drink and smoke. The hand is quicker than the eye (or the nose, as circumstances apply): the effect is lightweight and imperceptible if not told about beforehand. Chapeau then for such a clever little conjurer's trick which makes Divine Spirituelle go beyond the polite, prim and beige rose perfume that so many fragrance companies issue for Victoriana admiring fans, without on the other hand falling into the commonality of either patchouli nor oud.


Spirituelle comes as the 11th creation for Divine, the small niche brand by Yvon Mouchel, founded in the small town of Dinard. Perfumer Richard Ibanez who worked on Spirituelle has been a longtime partner with the Divine brand: he was the one composing the word-of-mouth cult first Divine scent, Divine by Divine.

I have 6 perfume samples for an equal number of lucky readers. Please let me know your experiences with rose in the comments to be eligible for the draw. Draw is open internationally till Friday midnight and winner will be announced in the weekend.

Fragrance notes for Divine Spirituelle:

Top: pink pepper, Sichuan pepper, geranium, cistus
Middle: May rose absolute, Anatolian rose absolute
Base: Texas cedarwood, white amber, white musk, incense.

Spirituelle is available as eau de parfum (50, 100, 200ml splash bottles or 30 and 50 refillable spray bottles) and as pure parfum extrait 20ml.

Guerlain French Kiss: new fragrance

Guerlain is busy recalibrating their fragrance line, chopping and adding things (see Mademoiselle Guerlain), while at the same time celebrating 20 years of successful presence on makeup counters with their "Kiss Kiss" lipsticks, the outer packaging of which is being updated upping the glam for autumn/winter 2014, as you can see in my collage below!

If you have followed the launch of Guerlain Terracotta Le Parfum (celebrating 30 years of the fabulous Terracotta range of makeup and sun products), you know what's coming: a brand new fragrance, commemorating this milestone of the French house of perfume and cosmetics.

The novel fragrance in question is called French Kiss and is part of the Carnal Elixir (Elixirs Charnels) boutique line [source Mr.Guerlain] that previously included Chypre Fatal, Oriental Brûlant, Gourmand Coquin, Boisé Torride and Floral Romantique. 

My take.
The theme of "lipstick scents" is a popular one, usually utilizing the allied forces of rose & violet which bring to mind the retro feel of glamorous silver screen sirens putting on lipstick in front of gilded vanity tables or ~maybe a bit more prosaically but all the more powerfully~ of our own mothers indulging in the exact same ritual. Guerlain, despite having an excellent scent criterion for their makeup line, (famously inspiring the Meteorites fragrance that copied the ethereal scent of their makeup powder beads by the same name) choose to step into a rather more fruity-berry path. Carnal Elixir French Kiss is comprised by the time-honored chord of rose & violet, but with a dominant inclusion of litchi and raspberry (yes, the perfume is pink in color). The raspberry note is further enhanced by the fruity nuances of the chosen white musk, while vanilla, orris and heliotrope, all three characteristic Guerlain perfume trademarks, contribute a comforting feel.
The name, apart from being so very English, despite it being a "French" kiss, is reminiscent of the witty rom com by the same name (French Kiss) starring Meg Ryan and Kevin Kline, parodying the penchant of Anglosaxons for French romance. Tongue-in-cheek? Cute move, Guerlain!

French Kiss by Guerlain, a "sprakling floral fragrance" in the Elixirs Charnels line, is to be launched in autumn 2014 (October)

Guerlain's Mademoiselle Guerlain: fragrance commentary with photos

It may have come as no surprise that the latest addition to the Les Parisiennes boutique perfume collection by the historic house of Guerlain is called Mademoiselle Guerlain. Shades of Chanel (who was called Mademoiselle by everyone who knew her and whose Coco Mademoiselle fragrance is a huge best-seller) not withstanding, Guerlain injects a certain playfulness to the more "savvy" requiring boutique collection, clearly aimed at a consumer not burdened with the heritage of the vintage Guerlain perfume classics.

One has to wonder about who exactly is the regular customer of Les Parisiennes limited distribution line. Just look at the bright colors of the bottle juice in the latest additions. If I'm to pronounce a quick assessment on that score, I'd guess the Meteorites makeup customer would be especially attuned to the following color scheme...It's girly and upbeat and very "feminine" in the most traditional sense possible.

Mademoiselle Guerlain, a green floral fragrance composed by perfumer Thierry Wasser plays with the sweetness of marshmallow, the freshness of orange blossom and the softness of white musk. It also includes notes of orris, galbanum and a leather "accord", none of which are especially pronounced though they give a certain depth beyond the average teeny-bopper fruity scent out there.

Actually as reported earlier on these pages, Mademoiselle Guerlain is a re-edition of La Petite Robe Noire model 2, packaged in a more haute de gamme presentation, fetching the requisite higher price in its wake (a practice not unheard of at Guerlain in late years).  As you can see in the pics Mademoiselle Guerlain is encased in the familiar bee bottles of la maison Guerlain, containing 75ml, side by side with Nuit d'Amour, Mon Precieux Nectar or L'Heure de Nuit. Now available at escapes Guerlain.

Guerlain Shalimar Souffle de Parfum: New Fragrance

Souffle de Parfum, the breath of a fragrance, is the new declination of Shalimar, developed by the house of Guerlain. More than a new concentration (as the poetic name might let you think) it is a flanker fragrance, coat-tailing on a best-selling perfume and offering a new interpretation that smells different; in this case a light floriental.

The latest addition to the classic Shalimar perfume stable is composed by in house perfumer Thierry Wasser and features the following fragrance notes:

Guerlain Shalimar Souffle de Parfum
Top notes: bergamot, lemon, mandarin
Heart: jasmine, orange blossom
Base: vanilla, white musk

The fragrance is available as 30, 50 and 100 ml of Eau de Parfum concentration.

The rumour of Shalimar Souffle de Parfum replacing Shalimar Parfum Initial (eau de parfum) and Shalimar Parfum Initial L'Eau (eau de toilette) are persistent, while Guerlain hasn't confirmed officially as of time of writing.

For a comprehensive summary of the previous versions and limited editions of Guerlain Shalimar, see below and please consult the links for reviews.

Flankers/derivative versions of Shalimar by Guerlain (with linked reviews & comparison with original):
Shalimar Eau Legere/Shalimar Light
Eau de Shalimar
Shalimar Ode a la Vanille
Shalimar Ode a la Vanille sur la Route de Madagascar
Shalimar Ode a la Vanille sur la Route de Mexique
Shalimar Parfum Initial
Shalimar Parfum Initial L'Eau
Shalimar Parfum Initial L'Eau Si Sensuelle
Limited editions of Shalimar (without change in the perfume formula itself):
Eau de Shalimar Flower
Shalimar Charms edition & Eau de Shalimar Charms edition
Shalimar Fourreau du Soir
Shalimar extrait de parfum in Bacarrat quadrilobe flacon 2011 edition

Scent on Canvas Blanc de Paris: fragrance review

The balance between freshly dried cotton sheets and lived-in warmth is in Blanc de Paris, sweet and sour dancing by the fluency of the language of individual skins. This Eau de Parfum has the potential to be the best-seller in the new niche Scent on Canvas line, not only because it’s perfectly legible (a white musk with all the right buttons pressed—bright opening, segueing to cool and clean, melting into warm and lightly sweet), but also because it’s the most approachable (instantly familiar, immediately likable); in so many words, a fate foretold! Like most good musks Blanc de Paris is surprisingly more complex than given credit for, with a classic, more traditionally feminine rose-sandalwood accord which recalls old favorites and the cool, almost iron-pressed ambience of irones (iris note). Nuzzling, its drydown reminds me of those retro lavender & tonka bean compositions after they have rested on the skin for quite some time. A second epidermis, a “my skin but better” sort of fragrance.

illustration by Kay Nielsen via lifo.gr

To dance in an early spring morning among flowers – this is the aroma Beatrice Aguilar created in a composition that is between intensity and a caress, passion and sweetness, simplicity and sophistication.

The new niche collection "Scent on Canvas" so far includes five perfumes created by an eclectic mix of perfumers: Jórdi Fernandez (for Rose Opéra and Noir de Mars), Shyamala Maisondieu (Ocre Doré) , Alexandra Kosinski (Brun Sicilien) and the founder, Beatrice Aguilar herself (Blanc de Paris). The collection spans five fragrance genres with nuanced olfactory work within them: the starchy, woody musk, a predetermined crowd-pleaser (Blanc de Paris); the dark musty-mossy with guts (Noir de Mars); the mysterious, coppery woody (Ocre Doré); the rosy floral with mysterious, spicy-suede tonalities (Rose Opéra) and the complex hesperidic-leathery (Brun Sicilien). Each fragrance is accompanied by a painting by a well-known painter who is inspired by the aromatics in the composition, then the painting is turned into an engraving which is used for the packaging of the fragrance: the inside of the box holds the engraving ready to be framed and hung on your walls.

Notes for Blanc de Paris by Scent on Canvas:
Top: green mandarin, Murcia citron, Calabrian bergamot
Heart: white flowers, Bulgarian rose, iris
Base: white musk, sandalwood, benzoin

The perfumes are priced at 130 Euros for 100 ml of perfume/eau de parfum (only Blanc de Paris is an Eau de Parfum by design, the rest are extrait de parfum). A great value sample pack of all 5 scents is offered for only 10 euros online at the official e-shop. More information: scentoncanvas.com

L'Artisan Parfumeur L'Ete en Douce (previously Extrait de Songe): fragrance review

Essence of a dream, that is Extrait de songe, was the very poetic name of a limited edition “clean”perfume for summer 2005 by L’artisan Parfumeur. The latter lost a legal battle over the coveted name with Annick Goutal who had the name Songes (=dreams) copyrighted for her own, completely different, floriental composition. Hence the lovely Extrait de Songe became extinct... Later it was rechristened as L'Eté en Douce (playing on a French idiom, meaning "summer is sneaking up on you") and entered the L'Artisan portfolio as a re-issue.
However many perfume fans say the fragrance in either name smells quite close to another older L’artisan offering, one of the Moodswings coffret, Lazy Mood, developed by the same perfumer, Olivia Giacobetti. This got me thinking.

Laziness, boredom, dullness….all of these words bring to mind the languorous days of a really hot summer, when one isn’t energized enough to actively do anything except sleep. We had a long bout of this in the summer and am afraid we will get it again soon enough.
When I am talking hot, I am not talking Canada “hot”. Nor Germany “hot”. These are euphemisms. These are mere bleeps on the radar of hotness, never managing to register with me. (It’s actually my preferred weather: if only we had 28 degree Celsius half the year long...)
I am talking 39-40 degrees hell hot, all red and fiery; when your own skin is becoming revolting to you and you want to tear it apart with one swift gesture like an overzealous Russian waxer with steroid-enhanced arms; when hair sticks on your forehead inviting you to turn into a travesty of a skinhead; when sticky liquid oozes off your pores just by sitting around doing nothing. Yes, you’ve guessed it: I hate those moments with a passion.
The “noon devil” of the hermits of Egypt, which draws out every speck of physical and mental vitality, is my personal nemesis.

However it is a small comfort that Extrait de songe/L'Eté en Douce exists for providing the illusion of a clean, cool, white cotton sheet that can be wrapped all around one and provide some solace from the scorching sun. Sloth according to Kirkegaard is the source of all evil. Wordsworth described it as “wild dullness”. It is considered one of the seven deadly sins by the Catholic church. Hamlet refers to the world as “tiresome, plain and dull” which probably explains why he never lifts a hand to actually do anything except talk for the better part of the play.
Samuel Butler says that boredom is a kind of spiritual failure, since the person who lets himself to emote it is more despicable than boredom itself.
But is it so bad, really? I wonder…

Billy Collins, the poet, calls boredom paradise itself. “It’s the blessed absence of things that the world offers as interesting such as fashion, media, and other people, whom Sartre –let’s not forget- characterized as hell.”
Anton Chekhov also idealized boredom in many of his plays, like in Uncle Vania and Samuel Beckett’s “Waiting for Godot” remains without a doubt the manifesto of dullness, featuring characters that await for that bastard Godot who never makes an appearance and which proves boredom can be pro-active after all, because many had stood up and left the theatre from what I recall :-)) The New York author Richard Greenburg even wrote a book (titled “Take me out”) after a bout of boredom during one especially dull summer, during which he watched baseball matches on TV. Luckily I am not  that desperate. Brenda Way, choreographer, likes to sit and think when stuck in a jammed highway: She believes it aids her involuntary voyage to creativity by using her unconscious powers at those precise moments.

Made by nose Olivia Giacobetti, who is famous for her light compositions that are like Winslow Homer paintings, Extrait de Songe/L'Eté en Douce is typically her style and seems very fit for such moments. It's an interpretation of freshness without acidulated, fusing or sparkling notes and it reminds me of the style that Jean Claude Ellena later explored in one of his "cologne" duo, called Eau de Gentiane Blanche. The two fragrances do not smell the same, but they share a similar sensibility and apparently a generous smothering of ambrette seed.
Featuring an airy and totally linear formula, Extrait de Songe/L'Eté en Douce begins with linden and lots of "clean" orange blossom water, like the flower water used to sprinkle Mediterranean cookies with, segueing on to hay- like (coumarin?) and woody notes, it finishes off with a kiss of white musk and the bitterish ambrette like newly washed bed-clothes envelopping your showered body. It's all purity, all light! Uncomplicated, easy, soft, lastingly diaphanous, evoking the dew caressing grass in a field and on wild rose bushes, the freshness of lime trees and the warm scent of freshly cut hay; a fragrance that has no aspirations of creating discussion, but only of making you feel good about yourself! The whole projects at a white radiant frequency which must be as close to seraphic cool places as possible without actually hitting the bucket.

Whatever your camp is (and I suppose you still run a pulse if you're reading right now), Extrait de Songe/L'Eté en Douce manages to smell like it is the best thing to exonerate the bad and amplify the good aspects of boredom.

The original bottle of Extrait de Songe is a beautiful lavender blue degrade cylinder (the colour becomes more saturated on the bottom) with plain, silver sprayer, now a collector's item. The newer bottle under L'Eté en Douce follows the typical L'Artisan packaging with label in lavender blue.

Notes for L'Artisan Extrait de Songe/L'Eté en Douce:mint, rose, orange blossom and white musk

Please note: another fragrance by L'Artisan has just recently changed name, namely Vanille Absolument which used to be Havana Vanille (2009).

Inspired by a euro2day comment. Pic of kitten got sent to me by email, unaccredited. L'Ete en Douce bottle pic via duftarchiv.de

Cacharel Noa, Noa Fleur & Noa Perle: fragrance reviews & comparison

"Fit for nuns and virgins" is as enticing a description of fragrance [1] for some of us as talking of a scent weaving a web of seduction the way a femme fatale would. Clearly, it's not because we belong to either category, but rather that its programmatic unconventionality of what feminine fragrance should stand for makes it ripe for personal exploration. It's so easy to underestimate a fragrance just because it's widely available and comes from a brand that doesn't have haute or luxe pretentions such as Cacharel and Noa. I bet good money that were Noa issued by a niche company into some fancy-named contraption and fronted by a du jour perfumer it would elicit more enthusiastic response. Despite Cacharel's fashion presence and their rather large input in fragrance history (a pre-emptying floral in Anais Anais, a magical retro heliotrope in Loulou, the first aquatic fruit-oriental in Eden, a good effort at tobacco-laced feminine in discontinued Gloria) they fly under the radar on what concerns hard-core perfume lovers. Which is why we're here and have been reviewing the Cacharel canon for a little while now on Perfume Shrine.



Noa is an underappreciated little gem that didn't deserve the lack of attention it receives and which spawned somewhat less noteworthy flankers, called Noa Fleur (2003) and Noa Perle (2006). But let's see the strong and weak points of each and compare them.

The original Noa by Cacharel (1998) was composed by perfumer Olivier Cresp, the fragrance encased in a diaphanous bubble of a bottle, a zen approach to the spiritual 1990s (hence the tag line "the gifted fragrance", one would almost expect a Messiah in a bottle), designed by Annegret Beier.
The passage of a few minutes results in a slight recalibration of one's original view of Noa, which would have been of an aquatic floral: it's really a floral musk with a hint of powder and soapiness and a delightfully unexpected smoky wood top note. The initially detectable ylang-ylang blends into the background, while the soapy aspect of the musk intensifies as the minutes pass by, boosted perhaps by some aldehyde. This produces both a smooth, clean scent, but also a reduction in volume, making Noa appear "light" and "fresh", although don't let that fool you into thinking it doesn't last; it does.The musks are fuzzy, cozy, warmish and comfortable, accented by a small note of spice like coffee laced with cardamom. Tania Sanchez identifies the spice as cilantro.


Noa Fleur by Cacharel came next in 2003 and its take is more unisex than its rosy character would suggest. Essentially a clean, rather screechy floral, flanked by musky notes like hibiscus and white musks, plus pale balsam and indeterminate notes that project with a faint powderiness, it's predictable and pliable. The inclusion of black currants gives a rather fruity facet to the proceedings, but there is no denying this is a rose fragrance with more woodiness than a typical soli-rose. This would make it fit for those occasions when you just don't know what to wear; rushing out of the door to get the kids on the school bus, going shopping impromptu, having a last-minute "wanna pick you up?" date when you're uncertain of your date's tastes...But you could do better than that: Grab Gucci Eau de Parfum II or Miracle So Magic.


Cacharel's Noa Perle (2006) was co-authored by perfumer Domitille Bertier and Olivier Polge. The formula was reprised, resulting in a more fruity floral mold, in which however the distinctive note of hazelnut swifts things to a slightly more interesting direction than the average fruity floral. The opening is lightly sweet citrus reminiscent of clementines with that standard "clean" floral that companies peg as peony nowadays; the drydown is an inoffensive powdery musk plus milky woods. Noa Perle is a nice enough if completely inadventurous scent, but for the price and the lack of pretence, it's still a better option than many out there. Points taken for the glaringly fake "pearl" inside, made from 100% plastic. With a name like that...

[1] by Susan Irvine, 2000 Perfume Guide

L'Artisan Extrait de Songe/L'Ete en Douce: fragrance review

Essence of a dream, that is Extrait de songe, was the very poetic name of a limited edition “clean”perfume for summer 2005 by L’artisan Parfumeur. The latter lost a legal battle over the coveted name with Annick Goutal who had the name Songes (=dreams) copyrighted for her own, completely different, floriental composition. Hence the lovely Extrait de Songe became extinct... Later it was rechristened as L'Eté en Douce (playing on a French idiom, meaning "summer is sneaking up on you") and entered the L'Artisan portfolio as a re-issue.
However many perfume fans say the fragrance in either name smells quite close to another older L’artisan offering, one of the Moodswings coffret, Lazy Mood, developed by the same perfumer, Olivia Giacobetti. This got me thinking.

Laziness, boredom, dullness….all of these words bring to mind the languorous days of a really hot summer, when one isn’t energized enough to actively do anything except sleep. We had a long bout of this in the summer and am afraid we will get it again soon enough.
When I am talking hot, I am not talking Canada “hot”. Nor Germany “hot”. These are euphemisms. These are mere bleeps on the radar of hotness, never managing to register with me. (It’s actually my preferred weather: if only we had 28 degree Celsius half the year long...)
I am talking 39-40 degrees hell hot, all red and fiery; when your own skin is becoming revolting to you and you want to tear it apart with one swift gesture like an overzealous Russian waxer with steroid-enhanced arms; when hair sticks on your forehead inviting you to turn into a travesty of a skinhead; when sticky liquid oozes off your pores just by sitting around doing nothing. Yes, you’ve guessed it: I hate those moments with a passion.
The “noon devil” of the hermits of Egypt, which draws out every speck of physical and mental vitality, is my personal nemesis.

However it is a small comfort that Extrait de songe/L'Eté en Douce exists for providing the illusion of a clean, cool, white cotton sheet that can be wrapped all around one and provide some solace from the scorching sun. Sloth according to Kirkegaard is the source of all evil. Wordsworth described it as “wild dullness”. It is considered one of the seven deadly sins by the Catholic church. Hamlet refers to the world as “tiresome, plain and dull” which probably explains why he never lifts a hand to actually do anything except talk for the better part of the play.
Samuel Butler says that boredom is a kind of spiritual failure, since the person who lets himself to emote it is more despicable than boredom itself.
But is it so bad, really? I wonder…

Billy Collins, the poet, calls boredom paradise itself. “It’s the blessed absence of things that the world offers as interesting such as fashion, media, and other people, whom Sartre –let’s not forget- characterized as hell.”
Anton Chekhov also idealized boredom in many of his plays, like in Uncle Vania and Samuel Beckett’s “Waiting for Godot” remains without a doubt the manifesto of dullness, featuring characters that await for that bastard Godot who never makes an appearance and which proves boredom can be pro-active after all, because many had stood up and left the theatre from what I recall :-)) The New York author Richard Greenburg even wrote a book (titled “Take me out”) after a bout of boredom during one especially dull summer, during which he watched baseball matches on TV. Luckily I am not that desperate. Brenda Way, choreographer, likes to sit and think when stuck in a jammed highway: She believes it aids her involuntary voyage to creativity by using her unconscious powers at those precise moments.

Made by nose Olivia Giacobetti, who is famous for her light compositions that are like Winslow Homer paintings, Extrait de Songe/L'Eté en Douce is typically her style and seems very fit for such moments. It's an interpretation of freshness without acidulated, fusing or sparkling notes and it reminds me of the style that Jean Claude Ellena later explored in one of his "cologne" duo, called Eau de Gentiane Blanche. The two fragrances do not smell the same, but they share a similar sensibility and a generous smothering of ambrette seed.
Featuring an airy and totally linear formula, Extrait de Songe/L'Eté en Douce begins with linden and lots of "clean" orange blossom water, like the flower water used to sprinkle Mediterranean cookies with, segueing on to hay- like (coumarin?) and woody notes, it finishes off with a kiss of white musk and the bitterish ambrette like newly washed bed-clothes envelopping your showered body. It's all purity, all light! Uncomplicated, easy, soft, lastingly diaphanous, evoking the dew caressing grass in a field and on wild rose bushes, the freshness of lime trees and the warm scent of freshly cut hay; a fragrance that has no aspirations of creating discussion, but only of making you feel good about yourself! The whole projects at a white radiant frequency which must be as close to seraphic cool places as possible without actually hitting the bucket.

Whatever your camp is (and I suppose you still run a pulse if you're reading right now), Extrait de Songe/L'Eté en Douce manages to smell like it is the best thing to exonerate the bad and amplify the good aspects of boredom.

The original bottle of Extrait de Songe is a beautiful lavender blue degrade cylinder (the colour becomes more saturated on the bottom) with plain, silver sprayer, now a collector's item. The newer bottle under L'Eté en Douce follows the typical L'Artisan packaging with label in lavender blue.

Notes for L'Artisan Extrait de Songe/L'Eté en Douce:mint, rose, orange blossom and white musk

Please note: another fragrance by L'Artisan has just recently changed name, namely Vanille Absolument which used to be Havana Vanille (2009).

Inspired by a euro2day comment. Pic of kitten got sent to me by email, unaccredited. L'Ete en Douce bottle pic via duftarchiv.de

Puredistance I & Puredistance M, master perfumes: fragrance reviews

The ultra-exclusive (and ultra-expensive) Puredistance perfumes prove that not all such claims are bogus: Here are fragrances worth the trouble of going to lengths to sample them at the very least: They're rich, smooth, very luxurious-feeling indeed and even if the campaign is positioned to extol the exclusivity factor, the jus does deliver each and every time. The current collection includes Puredistance I, Puredistance M and Antonia, the latter of which I intend to come back to in the near future.

Puredistance the brand was founded by Jan Ewoud Vos in Vienna, Austria. If you have ever been to Vienna, you can't have failed to notice how it's probably the most civilized place on planet earth: a place where music flows forth endlessly from every street corner, people smile to each other in the streets in greeting (I'm talking perfect strangers here) and the elegant center of art attracts artists and free thinkers from all over the world in peaceful co-existence of different idiosyncrasies. The world famous Wiener Werkstätte (a production community of visual artists founded in 1903 by the artists Josef Hoffmann and Koloman Moser) is characterized by pure lines and minimal decoration and it is this which provided the inspiration for Puredistance lean lines in Swarovski crystal for their bottles.
Jan Ewoud Vos says: "Since several decades, people have conceived a very distinct image of what a perfume is about. And that image does not fit Puredistance. This will make it harder for us to be noticed. Puredistance is not made to last for a few years, like most new perfumes do, it’s made to last forever. Therein also lies strength. We don’t need to rush things. It will take time, but it will happen. For as I’m concerned: also this is predestinated. Real beauty will never go unnoticed.".

Before you start rolling your eyes like I was before actually testing them out, let me state this once again: These are quality fragrances that last especially long, come in parfum concentration that is delightfully smooth-smelling and provide that can't-knock-it feeling like a million bucks mood. Now let's get down and start salivating over the details.

Puredistance I is the first creation of the Puredistance company; a floral oriental, which was created by Annie Buzantian from Firmenich, NY, on a formula she had been working for years. Byzantian considers it her favorite perfume and her personal Masterpiece, which should be a foregone conclusion as it began as a quest for creating her own personal scent. Puredistance I feels like Chanel No.5, Guerlain's Cruel Gardénia and Narciso Musk for Her (the precious oil parfum) fused into one crystal clear and delightfully "clean", lightly soapy-lightly powdery melody on skin. It's practically purring with delight on my arms, its cool and warm facets competing for center stage all the while. That element which makes No.5 so compelling, the muskiness that exalts the idea of freshly scrubbed bodies which exude their own natural scent, is reprised here in a composition that infuses a little powderiness into the fresh almost ozone top notes that surprises and enchants. Annie Byzantian eschewed the traditional "luxe" techniques (raw materials that scream "I'm expensive", heavy character to denote richness etc) and instead provided a streamlines, seamless formula that feels timeless. You don't have to stink to high heavens to prove your mettle as a perfume aficionado: Here is proof that a subtle, elegant, "fluted" approach is just as memorable.
The composition is a sophisticated floriental with fresh opening (magnolia and an ozone-watery lily of the valley accord) and an overall floral and soft character which shimmers delicately like rose gold set with tiny diamonds on lily-like fingers. The more you leave it on skin the more it gains in soapy-powdery feel, quite delicate and feminine to the core, like exploring a woman's intimate secrets revealed only in the quiet of the night. The white musk and sandalwood are what remains poised when the sing of the birds at dawn has echoed through the night chambers and the sweet embraces are over.

Notes for Puredistance I include tangerine blossom, cassis, neroli bigarade, magnolia, rose wardia, jasmine, parmenthia, natural mimosa, amber, vetiver and white musk.
The perfume extract contains 32 % perfume oil which makes for a very long-lasting experience; you will wake up to the beautiful scent still lingering on your pillow.
The limited edition Crystal Masterpiece is available as:
A Crystal & 24 carat Gold version - 2048 pieces (2750 Euro retail)
A Crystal & high-grade Steel version - 4824 pieces (1750 Euro retail)
The separately available refill, a 17.5 ml. perfume spray (165 Euro)

Thankfully Puredistance DO sell the refills without you having to fork out so much cash for the crystal flacons, beautiful as they are, so if you're just after the juice, here's the option: just ask them for details & stockists (site info on the bottom)


Puredistance M is a wonderful leather fragrance that is perfectly unisex (M can stand for male, but it could also be thought of as upside down, aka W, aka, for women!). Conceived as giving the luxurious sensation of sitting snugly inside the new leather interior of a grey Aston Martin, preferably on Her Majesty's Secret Service, it feels exactly like that: warm, comfortable, expensive, very satisfied with itself. Puredistance M Perfume was made in London by Roja Dove, famous for his own bespoke and semi-bespoke line at Harrods where he directs the Haute Parfumerie, as well as his position at Guerlain for years. Puredistance M is made from a high concentration of perfume oil (25%) and available as a 17.5 ml. perfume spray in a metal grey giftbox or a leather case for the purse (or that glove compartment of that grey Aston Martin!) besides the more expensive crystal presentations.

To me Puredistance M feels like a clove-y leather fragrance reminiscent of retro fragrances that hard-core aficionados appreciate, such as En Avion by Caron; it's delightfully sensuous and uncompromising with a smoother underside than the Caron forebearer, all tactile satisfaction caressing the plush. In the first moments the spicy cinnamon-clove tinge embracing a discernible rose, is prominent, creating a vintage ambience with the slightly bitter nuances of leather in the mix, while the more it stays on skin the more it softens and becomes a skin scent with a faint whiff of ambery-musky sweetness that is delectable.

I know these are not Austrian images I'm going to conjure, but it's like the best things about 1960s Sean Connery and Michael Kaine in Alfie rolled into one and they produced an imaginary super-child that would smell of Puredistance M. I'm totally smitten!

Notes for Puredistance M include bergamot, Amalfi lemon, jasmine, rose, carnation, cinnamon, cloves, vetiver, patchouli, French cistus labdanum, oakmoss, musk, woods, and leather.

The Puredistance perfumes are available on the official Puredistance site, Harrods at London, Lianne Tio's boutique in Rotherdam (the one famous for her Goutal fragrances), at The Scent Bar in Los Angeles and other boutiques around the world (Find a complete list of retailers here).

Pics of Catherine Deneuve and Michael Kaine via Life magazine.
Disclosure: I was sent tiny samples of the perfumes from the manufacturer.

M.Micallef Royal Muska: fragrance review

Royal Muská is a relative newcomer in the game of musk fragrances, being issued by niche brand M.Micallef in as recently as 2008, yet it has gained something of a cult status already, thanks to its cloudy soft, warmish personality, with a gentle sheen like mother-of-pearl and a ray or two of the sun hidden in there.

Fragrantica describes it as "the fragrance of tanned skin, of hot days and sultry nights" and classifies it under "fruity floral". How can a musk be tropical, you ask? Well, with the suffusion of salicylates, molecules naturally present in ylang ylang essence, of which perfumer Martine Micallef made ample use. The effect is like a delectable whiff of baked skin, almost amber-ed over with a hint of Ambre Solaire suntan lotion, but only a little. It's also rather soapy (rosy aldehydic), especially when smelled at an arm's length rather than up close, yet without any harsh alcaline edges or lily-of-the-valley "clean" vibe. Yes, it's a clean, white musk, but not quite. The best way I could describe it is "hazy", puffy-pillowy and honeyed sweetish, a real skin-scent.
Then again you might heed Katie Puckrick's warning if you're averse to musks in general, who says "on paper it seems like the kind of thing I'd dig. But I don't. It bugs me. Seems a little rank, like the inside of my friend from 6th grade’s not-very-clean house". In fragrance parlance, this is often associated with "mature" scents and I guess it is, somewhat, although it certainly lacks the complexity of old blends which incorporated musk as a supporting actor rather than the protagonist.

Royal Muská comes as an Eau de Parfum and is usually referred to as Royal Muska, the accent omitted in oversimplification, so don't get alarmed if you find it with either spelling online. More feminine than unisex, although theoretically it could be carried by both sexes. And caveat emptor regarding possible musk anosmia just like with Musc Bleu by Il Profumo applies here as well. The rectangular bottle is impressive and luxurious, even better looking than the round Micallef ones.

Notes for M.Micallef Royal Muská:
Ylang ylang, rose, white musks, precious woods, fruit notes, crystal musk and benzoin.

Related reading on Perfume Shrine: The Musk Series (ingredients & cultural history), Scented Musketeers: Musk fragrances reviews.


Photo from the Greek film Mantalena, 1960, starring Aliki Vougiouklaki and Dimitris Papamichael.

Il Profumo Musc Bleu: fragrance review

Among "white musk" fragrances which are reminiscent of clean laundry off the line, Musc Bleu by Il Profumo is among the best, eschewing the metallic screechiness present in other white musks and possessing a baby soft silkiness making it extremely popular, like an wide-eyed, amiable ingénue at a Vienesse ball would be. If it weren't for that latter element, Joan Crawford might be scrubbing her fingernails with the stuff, in a fit of cleanliness ritualistic mania after a wire hanger episode. But you see, Musc Bleu is softly voiced, not harsh. Ever. Childlike in its softness, yet cool. It's almost "ice-princess" like, yet with a hint of sensuality, like Estella in Alfonso Cuarón's version of Great Expectations. But not much, beyond a naughty kiss.

Musc Bleu was created by the Italian brand Il Profumo and the perfumer Silvana Casoli in 2004. There is a European feel about it, no doubt, as it avoids the mall associations and the dense, heavy feel of most musks found there, as well as the pervading, cut-through-the-air sharpeness some of them in the "white musk" camp possess (aimed at cutting through the mall smells of cinnamon rolls and candied popcorn emanating from the multiramas).
The tradition of Eau de Cologne underscored with musk for its lasting power is ingrained in the Mediterranean basin and people react well to those undefinable base notes, so it doesn't surprise me that this is an Italian product.
Personally, I have little use for such an opaline musk, unless I had been stranded on a deserted island on which the givens of civilization were severely compromised and I needed to create distractions that would fool me into believing I'm in less hardship than I would really be in. Nevertheless, I cannot deny its wearability and "easy", polished feel which accounts for its tremendous appeal to those hankering after "clean" smells reminiscent of dryer sheets, yet without any allegiance to "drugstore musks". Or those who are in favour of "scent layering", a process in which one sprays a "base" fragrance underneath a second one which is more nuanced and in a different style. Musc Bleu would be the perfect canvas, exactly because it's so pliable to just about any other material coupled with it. Again, not my thing, but I can see how others would like it a lot.

The scent of Musc Bleu doesn't reveal floral facets ~beyond a hint of ylang ylang and the "scrubbed" aldehyde that stands as cyclamen~ like most "white musks" do (refer to our article on types of musk). Instead it has a delicate powdery and soapy feel which is girlish, comfortable and dicreet. It oscillates between a tonic freshness and cozy warmth, which bridges the gap that several musk fragrances create, veering as they do to either one or the other direction. It wouldn't be out of place in the office or the seat right beside at the underground and it fits well in the evenings as well, if you're after an innofensive smell which will be detected only when you hug someone. In fact, I bet several people might be anosmic to it, due to its lightness. Musk anosmia is a phenomenon common with people, as musks are just about the maximum size of molecules a nose can handle, so perfumers routinely use a couple of different musky ingredients (please refer to our article) to combat that. Still, there are people who have an "umbrella effect" anosmia. For those, something else might break through. For the rest, it is a light musk, don't expect anything potent.
Even though Musc Bleu seems light and vanishing into skin in about an hour, it doesn't disappear. It becomes a "skin scent" (a scent that feels like your own skin) with a very satisfactory lasting power if you lean closer. The concentration is described as "parfum" by the company (denoting concentrated essences), but it reads as a lasting Eau de Parfum to me. There is a pronounced reminiscence with Musc Blanc by Les Bains du Marais, another clean musk which doesn't read as "metallic", yet the latter is a little more expensive and to my experience a little less lasting.

Two versions are available by Il Profumo, Musc Bleu and Musc Bleu Absolu Osmo. Between the two, the Absolu is richer, fuller with a silkier feel to my nose, probably due to the abcence of alcohol in the formula. Please note the latter doesn't come in a spray, but as a splash or dab on. Available at Luckyscent and First in Fragrance and also as of this minute, at a nice discount, on Amazon on this link.

Notes for Il Profumo Musc Bleu:
Neroli, black geranium, ylang-ylang, cyclamen, musk, oakmoss, woods, white sandalwood.

Related reading on Perfume Shrine: The Musk Series (ingredients & cultural history), Scented Musketeers: Musk fragrances reviews.

Photo La Ribambelle by anonymous.