Lanvin Oxygene: fragrance review

 Everything old is new again and now that things aqueous and lightly transparent, with a mist of cool fresh air like Drop d'Issey, are making ripples, it's time for a comeback for those musky, airy, cool and dewy fragrances that defined an era. The presentation for Oxygène by Lanvin followed the trend for diaphanous or light blue (Light Blue anyone?) bottles that dominated the 1990s and up to the millennium. Then pink erupted and has never left us since. Indeed nowadays blueish bottles are almost solely geared to men.

The olfactory reception I get in Oxygène is quite something, as it recalls and depicts vividly one of my favorite flowers, the wisteria, or glycine in French. It's an early spring flower and, therefore, associated with cool air, dewiness, and a certain hesitant expectation. The heat and the sun have not come in to orgiastically lavish upon it. Its peppery spiciness, inherent also in mauve lilacs, is due to eugenol. I begrudge L'Artisan Parfumeur for discontinuing their lovely scented candle Sous la Glycine - Under the Wisteria - which remade the effect to perfection. (If the good people at the head office are reading, please bring it back!)

Delicately floral, with a subtle spicy note of clove, the central chord in the Lanvin Oxygène' fragrance recreates the beautiful, utterly gorgeous scent of the mauve, hanging grappes of wisteria, perched like bunches of decadent grapes over terraces, latticework and verandas in early spring. A fusion of spicy goodness reveals itself from the core: a middle road between peppery twinkle, a clove note, and carnations, with a side of a somewhat oily green nuance reminiscent of hyacinth and lilacs.

pic borrowed via pinterest

I do not get real milky notes, not the potable kind nor the milky body lotion type, which is prized among millennial women. It could only be said that there is a faint whiff of creaminess in the musk, but it is the overwhelming impression of white musk - redolent of white flowers and lilies - specifically that does it, not the milk or sandalwood, really. A very subtle hint of vanilla fuses with the headiness of the base. Any sweetness is due to the musks. On the other hand, Oxygène's freshness of citric notes and ozone in the initial spray is very perceptible and, to me, delectable; they recall that long-lost zingggg that scents of designer brands used to do so well back then.

Lanvin's scent Oxygène can be bought at discounters and online at relatively low prices nowadays.

Related reading: The History of the Lanvin House

Springtime is here

 photo by Elena Vosnaki

Demeter Fragrance Library Wisteria: fragrance review

Demeter Fragrance Library hides many little gems: from the convincing ivy green note of mysterious evil of Poison Ivy to the exact replication of the ionically charged and just outright lovely wet scent of a baby's humidifier caught in Rain, the line never fails to present one with small epiphanies and delighted coos of small discoveries where you least expect it (They have things like Laundromat, Belladonna, Sex on the Beach, referencing the cocktail....an endless pit of joyful playing around). So I wasn't really astounded to find their Wisteria cologne was actually good.


Wisteria by Demeter goes where upscale fine fragrance doesn't go, who knows for what inexplicable reason: It creates the beautiful, utterly gorgeous scent of the mauve hanging grappes of wisteria (glycine), perched like bunches of decadent grapes over terraces, latticework and verandahs in early spring. A fusion of spicy goodness reveals itself from the core; a middle road between peppery twinkle, clovey note, and carnations, with a side of a somewhat oily green nuance reminiscent of hyacinth and lilacs. All these facets are surprisingly caught in Demeter's Wisteria, a soliflore that is lush and rich like the natural flower.
The scent starts a little alcoholic at first but the progression into an intense spicy floral is more than enough to compensate. Sadly presented only in Eau de Cologne, but with rather good lasting power nonetheless. If you like spicy florals, carnation scents or just love the mauve blossoms themselves, there are good chances you might like Wisteria by Demeter.

At 20$ for 1oz it is an unmissable bargain. If you know of European based online outlets for this, do let me know in the comments.

photo via armchairfrance.com

Tocadilly by Rochas: fragrance review

There is a French expression "mettre en valeur" which roughly translates as to highlight, to draw attention to one's best features. This is what Tocadilly by Rochas does; an ethereal scent that highlights the flowers of spring I love ~lilac, wisteria and mimosa~ beautifully, yet transcends the genre of floral. The feeling I get, when I sort this out of my perfume wardrobe at the first hints of spring, is just like the interplay of cool and warm one experiences upon imprinting their breath "fog" on a wet window pane.

Tocadilly by Marcel Rochas is a floral which launched in 1997 amidst a sea of aquatics and marines. It was said that it represents the younger sister of Tocade, an intensely rosy vanillic fragrance by Maurice Roucel from 1994, yet I do not perceive the kinship of spirit that should tie them in such a close relationship. They both have the same design of flacon, nevertheless, created by bottle designer Serge Mansau; but to Tocade's red packaging hues Tocadilly conterpoints blue-green-purple tones and the aura of the scent is complimentary.
Perfumer Christopher Sheldrake (currently at Chanel) is best known for his oeuvre under the wing of Serge Lutens composing a sumptuous line of persuasive orientals and opulent florals. In Tocadilly those preconceptions are shed and Sheldrake reveals a light, lacy touch that is capable of creating diaphanous effects which do not lack staying power or diffusion. The composition is segmentated into interesting facets of aqueous, fruity, floral and lightly ambery-powdery, fusing into a playful, cheerful and tender composition that is above all soft.

Three years before the modern aqueous lilacs of En Passant (2000), realised by Olivia Giacobetti for éditions des parfums Frédéric Malle, Tocadilly had captured this unholy allience between "clean" and "dirty" (Lilacs naturally have an anisic spiciness/powderiness recreated through anisaldehyde and heliotropin in fragrances, as extraction is so uneconomical/unyielding*; yet they often also possess an animalic undercurrent like pollen dusted on impolite feminine parts, especially the mauve-tinged blooms). The watery impression of Tocadilly is less "marine" than En Passant and the yeasty note is absent completely, rendering a must-try for both lovers and haters of En Passant.
The unusual pear note comes from the flavour industry and was contemporarily explored in Annick Goutal's Petite Chérie. Yet in Tocadilly it's not as easily decomposed and the absence of intense sugary lappings helps along, focusing instead on the almost pollen-like aroma of wisteria and lilacs. The mimosa is detectable ~and delectable, providing the emotional foil for the overall spring-like tonality which runs through the fragrance. Yet one would be hard pressed to designate Tocadilly to any particular season. It's utterly friendly and wearable in almost all settings and all climates, easing itself with an insouciant shrug of the shoulders and a child-like innocence that's not without a little mischief.

Notes for Rochas Tocadilly:
Top: cucumber, lilac, hyacinth, pear, jasmine, tiare, wisteria, mallow, mimosa and mandarin.
Heart: glycine/wisteria, coconut and heliotrope.
Base: sandalwood, musk and amber.

Sadly discontinued, Tocadilly is still available online.

*There is a fragrance that is purpotedly using a natural extraction of the flower itself, Highland Lilac of Rochester, to which we will return soon.

Photo Dreams and Cookies II via meren.org. Lilacs shot by PerfumeShrine, all rights reserved.