Estée Lauder just launched a new limited edition flanker to its popular 2008 fragrance Bronze Goddess named Bronze Goddess Aegea. The name suggests inspiration from the feeling of an island escape on an island in the Aegean Sea. Following last year's Bronze Goddess Flora Verde, the new version differs from the tropical suntan lotion of coconut and ylang that most summer flankers of that sort of genre have to offer.
The allusion of the Aegean with its rich history and specific references is hard to do justice in a perfume, nevertheless. And yet Bronze Goddess Aegea is not amiss. It has a dry feeling of dried hay that perfectly recalls one feeling that is prevalent in Greece: the dust from the ground, the soil, which sits on everything till the gust of wild winds of the Aegean redistributes it anew.
Lauder has again invested in the tourist interest for Greek island-hopping, launching Aegean Blossom for the Aerin brand. The images were breathtaking, the minimalist luxury of a veranda over the sea and pottery with big, fragrant flowers flanking the easy living of summer. A dreamlike sequence.
The coconut is discreet in Bronze Goddess Aegea, more of an idea of suntan oil than of actual suntan formula, or tropical fruity, and the so-called bougainvillea note manages to give that dusty feeling to the proceedings. It's as if one lays down on a stack of dry hay to rest when the sun rises to its apex and tourists are advised to lay low, wear their hats, and take little to no action apart from taking a swim. It's a silent hour, the hour of siesta, of the moment when the upcoming transport is almost liquified at the end of the horizon. Then rises the fig — inviting, green, and very delectable — a very characteristic note of Greek summer, beloved in perfumery ever since Premier Figuier (L' Artisan Parfumeur) and Philosykos (Diptyque), whose Hellenic-inspired background makes my heart warm. It's a lovely fig note, delicate, smooth and mouth-watering, which elevates Bronze Goddess Aegea beyond the usual summer concoction.
The clean musk at the base makes it last and become skin-scent-like after several hours, melting with the green-milky-soft ambiance. It makes this limited edition a must-add to any Lauder collector, but more importantly, a must-have for anyone dreaming of catching a whiff of the glorious Greek summer while cooped up in an office somewhere urban and stifled. Enjoy wisely as Bronze Goddess Aegea is a limited edition!
Spicy stuff is usually reserved for wintertime because it so often appears in heavier compositions such as spicy oriental fragrances, a genre many of us love but that people around us find a bit retro and therefore not always pleasant. Rejoice then for a spicy citrus and oriental musk blend from a very worthwhile niche company that has retained its integrity and pedigree in an era of easy cash grab.
1826 by Histoires de Parfums is inspired by Eugénie de Montijo, the last French empress who was born in Granada, the jewel of Andalusia.
photo Deborah Turbeville - Models in Valentino, VOGUE Italia borrowed via Pinterest
A sparkling beauty, her seductive nature and temperamental elegance delighted Napoleon the Third. It was for her that Guerlain made to measure his famous Eau de Cologne Imperiale Guerlain. It was those famous historical people, like her, as well as characters from novels, that inspired the first collection by venerable French niche brand Histoires de Parfums, the brainchild of Gerarl Ghislain.
Powdery violet is allied to spicy cinnamon and piquant ginger notes in the heart of 1826, but not before this is first refreshed with a rush of hesperidia—happy and aromatic, almost aggressive citrus notes that tumble out of the bottle in song. A honeyed ambience like a ripe orchard is present, they're never sour or sharp. Then the synergy with the prolonged musky drydown makes it appear woody, orientalised, dry, yet restrained. There is the elegance of sipping earl grey tea while reading an old book with violets dried inside its pages by the window overlooking a beautiful citrus grove...
Beautifully balanced, 1826 by Histoires de Parfums always welcome in any season, but especially when the weather warms up.
Launch date: 2001
The older bottles have a retro label with a crest and a chiseled bronze-gold cap. The newer bottles are sparse with a rectangle shaped bottle that is visually cut in half, thus making the cap seem off, and they fit into their boxes like in a cardboard drawer, as if meant to display unto the shelves of a library. Very cute idea!
The perfumer behind 1826 by Histoires de Parfums is Sylvie Jourdet.
Top notes are Tangerine and Bergamot; middle notes are Violet, White Flowers, Cinnamon and Ginger; base notes are Patchouli, Amber, Woody Notes, Incense, Musk and Vanilla.
In January 2022, Ex Nihilo introduced a new women's fragrance, Iris Porcelana. The inspiration for its creation was fine porcelain that came to Europe from the East, as well as a perfume material called Pallida iris.
The perfumer is Dalia Izem (of Givaudan), a young perfumer from Dubai. The fragrance joined the main collection of the brand named Initiale, which already includes bestsellers such as Fleur Narcotique and Lust in Paradise and is therefore a useful gauge of how brands perceive materials and concepts.
The iris one is very popular, having become almost synonymous with a delicate feminity that is so sought after by many, many women nowadays. Alongside violet, it's often at the core of "powdery fragrances." Notes like milk, vanilla, iris, ambrette seeds, cashmere woods, musk, "cotton," and soap also define a genre of fragrances that create a sense of comfort and serenity, very sought after during and since the pandemic.
Truth is, iris "notes" are routinely produced through less expensive methods. But this is neither here nor there; their magic happens not because of the cost itself, but of the perceived value.It's all a game of smoke-and-mirrors! But it works. It definitely works.
In Iris Porcelana by Ex Nihilo, the iris is rendered lightly metallic, with an eau de vie touch, and then fanned on something totally unexpected: Hazelnuts! The star ingredient appears thanks to a potent aromachemical in several creations in recent years. Being safe for even food use (GRAS), it is exploited with gay abandon in perfumery, exactly because it is not going to be on the chopping block of potential allergens in the near future.
From the intense praline in Angel Muse by Mugler to Amouage Guidance (a fragrance which I reviewed here and which takes Filbertone to the next level by overdosing), this trend shows no signs of abating: Devotion Intense, Patchouli Noisette, Valentino Uomo, English Oak & Hazelnut (Jo Malone), Aimez moi comme je suis (Caron), Joop! Homme Eau de Parfum, several boutique fragrances in the Trussardi line, Vetiver Gris, and even La Vie est Belle L'eau de parfum Intense.
The precursor in the combination of Iris Porcelana is probably Praliné de Santal by innovative niche creator Pierre Guillaume. He coupled the sandalwood milkiness with the hazelnut savory facets and created an atypical fragrance that fascinates. And of course the pioneer was Mechant Loup by L'artisan Parfumeur as far back (in relative terms of contemporary perfumery) in 1997!
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.
"Gigi you're not at all that funny awkward little girl I knew. Over night there's been a breathless change in you. When did your sparkle turn to fire and your warmth become desire, oh, what miracle has made you the way you are?"
CARNATION by Mona di Orio was created by the late perfumer as homage to the French writer's heritage – "I created Carnation as a tribute to Colette, my favorite writer. Carnation tells a story of wet skin from the sun, of perturbing intimacy, of a boudoir with sensual chypre fragrances. The nectars of flowers stand out, highlighted by leather, evoking a masculine facet of disconcerting seduction."
Franz Xaver Winterhalter, Portrait of Countess Varvara Musina-Pushkina
The fragrance by Mona di Orio is neither cantered on carnation the flower, nor the sentimental notions of femininity as a created vision of a creature to be cherished in apostasy. Carnation by Mona di Orio is a living and breathing thing, a woman whose carnation, her texture, her very skin is glowing with the desire that warmth and life has instilled in her, made her the way that she is. Mature, inquisitive, all aglow.
Mona di Orio dashed past us, with deliciously beautiful fragrances and disappeared into the boundless darkness of the unknown due to a surgery gone wrong. As much in love with scent as her favorite writer, the pupil of the great Edmond Roudnitska, she created her own brand Mona di Orio Parfums in 2004.
Carnation by Mona di Orio is a Amber Floral fragrance for women and men, launched in 2006. The house, managed by her partners, has now been finally closed.
The nose behind Carnation is Mona di Orio. Top notes are Bourbon Geranium and Bergamot; middle notes are Ylang-Ylang, Jasmine, Violet and Precious Woods; base notes are Styrax, Amber and Musk.
Lunamaris by Diptyque, part of the new collection Les Essences, inspired by rare natural materials, managed to capture my attention and eventually my preference within the new line-up. It's a sleeper, that I suspect will please a lot of people if only given a chance to try it out. It grows on you. This fragrance genre has an affinity for prompting introspection and daydreaming, akin to listening to Eric Satie and his collective opus of Gymnopédies and Gnossiennes. Music that eases the mind and set forth a spiritual mood, with restrained sentimentality and low vibration sounds that stir the senses in a non flamboyant way. It's excellent for doing mental work, as its lack of words helps with concentration and -much like baroque music, though in a different way- it aids the mind to put a flow into thoughts.
The intention was transliterating the effect of mother of pearl or nacré into a scent. Perfumer Fabrice Pelegrin worked on the dual nature of mother-of-pearl, iridescent and whiteish, with a combination of resins. Cistus labdanum and frankincense-myrrh are played into the effects of the structure. It gives a fresh, cool ambience backed by subtle warmth which blooms on the skin when the fragrance is finally settling. To transliterate this beauty and dream-like quality into a fragrance it needed materials and chords that echo this subtlety and low-key dazzling of the senses. Perfume lovers can think of some: irises, metallic effects, shimmery incense effects, mineral chords, rose oxides...
No innovation then in the composite parts of Lunamaris the fragrance, but excellent execution, something I'm giving more and more attention to. An incense with spicy notes and a fresh feeling, it easily comes through victorious. The poetic name, which unites the notions of the moon (luna) and the sea (maris) creates a tension that almost pre-empts the image of a dark nightime seascape where the silvery path of moonbeams sheds its magic upon the waters. It's dreamy in itself.
The myrrh and labdanum components give Lunamaris a vibrant feel, bittersweet and mysterious and almost abstract. I also detect a certain rosiness, the kind that is vegetal, pure, botanical and not liquer-ish or femininely floral. This is attributed to pink peppercorns, or in French baies roses. Of course Diptyque has cemented a cult favouring of their legendary Baies candle, so it fits effortlessly into their fine fragrances too. Contrary to what most people associate with pepper or peppercorns, baies have a rosy texture, adding flavour and aroma but no real heat to the palate when tasted. Therefore the subtle spiciness and the becoming, rosy aroma contributes to fragrances in a way that cannot be tagged retro under any guise, fully justifying why perfumers have used pink pepper with abandon in the last couple of decades in contemporary compositions. This was exploited in Toy Boy by Moschino too, recently, in order to give a non feminine feel to a fragrance geared towards men.
Overall the scent of Lunamaris is dry, completely unisex, devoid of any retro or stereotypically feminine or masculine traits and produces that zen quality we associate with an experience at a temple or a high-end spa retreat. It is clean and definitely minimalist luxury. There is also a musk inside which I suspect is Cashmeran, adhering to the skin in a very nice way, and yet projecting fine to others coming into the radius of its appealing aura. The lasting power is also very good, tenacious over the course of a working day.
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.
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.
Some perfumes seem to exist in limbo. No one has really known them intimately, yet their reputation lives on. Oddly enough, as my colleague Sergey highlighted in his review of the chypre Cardin de Pierre Cardin,"If you go to the Pierre Cardin official website, you will not find this fragrance on it. There, officially, the feminine perfume history of the brand begins in 1981, with Choc de Cardin. As if there was no Cardin de Pierre Cardin (1975) perfume at all. Meanwhile, vintage advertisements and vintage bottles say the opposite."
My view is similar to his, in that it presents a very interesting, yet disturbing phenomenon: Companies re-inventing their past, but contrary to -say- Creed, by omission. As if they want to focus only on the present, or at the very least on what they consider sell-able still. As fragrant history attests,"at least two more Pierre Cardin fragrances were released for women – the floral chypre Suite 16 Pierre Cardin and the green Singulier Pierre Cardin. A couple perfumes more, Amadis and Geste For Men, were also launched around the same time, as Mr. Pierre Cardin opened his Eve and Adam boutiques in Paris, sharing their bottle design with Suite 16."
Cardin for women was the first fragrance from the house of Pierre Cardin, launched in 1976 according to Fragrantica. It opens with notes of citrus, aldehydes, bergamot, clove and cumin. The heart is a bouquet of flowers such as roses, ylang-ylang and jasmine and woody notes of oak and cedar. The base consists of amber, civet, musk, labdanum, moss, sandalwood and vetiver. Available as EDT, EDP and perfume.
So is Pierre Cardin's Cardin for Women anywhere to be found? I would love to know.
Although Assenzio Aqua di Profumo by Italian pharmacist-inspired brand L' Erbolario is an older scent, I only truly discovered it last year, testing it again and again, and contemplating a full bottle of my own for the coming months.
The Italian name means absinth and it effortlessly recalls ringlets of fragrant smoke rising from a censer into the ethers, which is totally fitting for days of recollection and pensiveness, since incense is usually burnt into a censer and left to rise. Frankincense has a citrusy top note and this is beautifully fanned out in Assenzio, where the citrus and herbal part (bitterish artemisia and wormwood) is the introduction to the hazy, billowy development.
Perfume lovers have beautiful and zen-quality words to say about it. Silver Hiccup writes in Fragrantica, "Assenzio is ultimately a very gentle, flowy scent, like a fluffy cloud that envelops you. I can admit that for me, it may carry a sense of melancholy." Cerise Noir writes, "I love this powdery, herbal sweetness. Makes me feel so clean and calm." Abraham 7 says, "An ancient, green, relaxing charm."
Others, like Kioflare are mixed: "The opening is really quite masculine, astringent and not particularly pleasant [...] reminds me in a sense of Penhaligon's Blenheim Bouquet, which I was not particularly fond of. This goes on for about 15-20 min. The drydown showcases its truly marvellous and gentle side. That is the real unisex herbal talcum [...] becomes a bit chalky sweet, the herbs shine through, but they leave a gentle and warm impression, like a green powdery caress."
Although Assenzio has been compared to Felce Azzura, the famous shower gel and dusting powder products from Italy, another South-eastern European reference that is often conflated with incense, due to the dry soapy-piney ambience, it is not a replication of that (admittedly amazing) scent. But it's worth trying all the same, because the herbal qualities will appeal to lovers of the Italian classic of grooming all the same.
Best of all? This quiet scent has an array of ancillary products to enjoy from morning till bed-time... Bliss.
NB. The Aqua di Profumo concentration is the equivalent of Eau de Toilette.
Official notes for Assenzio by L' Erbolario:
Top notes are Wormwood, Amalfi Lemon and Orange. Middle notes are Artemisia, Coriander, Lavender and Cardamom. Base notes are Musk, Carnation, Geranium, Patchouli, Benzoin and Cedar.
Boring is a disparaging term for perfume such as the latest All of Me by Narciso Rodriguez, since this is a product relying on fantasy: excitement, anticipation, pleasure. However, as we know, boring can smell gorgeous too, just not particularly new or pushing the envelope. And that's fine, we need some boring fragrances too I guess.
That would have been OK, if Narciso Rodriguez and the Group behind it, Shiseido, actually continued on the road of the white and black "cubes" of the Narciso collection. But it seems that after a while on that road they missed a significant turning or something and the whole trip derailed.
I have adored the For Her eau de toilette from the first moment it launched and I have been so outspoken about it ever since, starting with Osmoz, that I feel somewhat personally proud of its enduring footprint in the industry. Imagine then my dismay when some of the best in the NR collection, namely the white and black "cube" fragrances have been discontinued. The rest in the collection have not been wowing me either; pretty, yes, but ultimately not advancing the brand. After a while, the subsequent editions in the For Her line, have also become kinda staid and stilted.
All of Me did not make wild promises, it talked about the mainstays in the world of pretty, feminine, office-friendly fragrances that make Chloé scents a popular mainstay in the department store aisles. Lots of women love them and cherish them and they do look good on a vanity, I'll give them that. However the Narciso Rodriguez brand is not Chloé, even though according to official data they did sell 1 bottle every 6 seconds in 2022 (according to the Shiseido website). The NR aesthetics bring on less apologetic versions of pretty, from the models chosen, to the shape of the bottles and the presentation, not to mention the more straightforward fashions themselves.
Nevertheless, the newest fragrance after all this optical expectation seems limp-wristed, hesitant, yet persistent enough in the screechy version of synthesized roses -with a touch of Frambinone maybe?- which bring on the impression that you're poised between something going bad and a headache blooming at the back of your eyes, like intense light blinding you.
The characteristic musk component of the Rodriguez brand has rather gone amiss in All of Me and only the fabric softener notes remain behind, with an aldehydic touch of soapiness and aquatic tonality buttressing the rose and geranium essences, making them sickly sweetish for my personal taste. Mind you, I'm particularly sensitive to that effect, so your mileage may vary on that score.
All Of Me was created by Dora Baghriche and Daphné Bugey, who have probably been given a brief to follow closely by Firmenich with which they work, and it launched in 2023. The official top note is Magnolia; the middle notes are Rose and Bourbon Geranium; the base notes are Musk and Sandalwood.
It's been ages since I submitted an At the Moment column, but I've been meaning to refresh this as a mental exercise in much needed times. So without further ado, some of my recent obsessions. Share yours too (whichever you want) in the comments below!
In the troubled times we're living in there is a precarious balance to keep between being flummoxed by doom scrolling and detaching one's self from the ongoing societal and political process. I try to tread carefully.
I have revisited some books like Erotica by Anais Nin, always a safe space in times of world crisis, and Serotonin by Michel Houellebecq, its diurnal direct opposite. In my bucket list for January there are some waiting for me to catch a few uninterrupted hours to finish or to begin, including Sarah Bernand by Françoise Sagan and The Goldfinch by Donna Tartt.
SCENTING
This past fall I had been wearing (and testing) a roaster of fragrances niche and mainstream, with an emphasis on diversifying and appreciating nuance.
I chose Ambre Royal by Ormonde Jayne, first. Variations on a theme, like Bach's motif that unfolds from gavotte and sarabande to passacaglia and from there to fugue, are in no other "note" more numerous than in amber. The so-called ambergris or amber. Whatever anyone means (and it doesn't really matter to break it down technically at this point), the traditional recipe of the 19th century characterizes a whole class of perfumes named amber, ambre, ambra... In this case, with Ormonde Jayne's Ambre Royal, we have a solid construction with attractive warm powders and a salty nuance coming from the ocean.
L'Heure Bleue by Guerlain in Eau de Toilette is another choice. I personally find L'Heure Bleue to be a quiet, soft fragrance, almost shy and dreamy, with a bittersweet air that is not exactly stereotypical in particular (though it certainly does not resemble the sweetness of modern women's perfumes on the shelves) with plenty of powdery fluffy heliotrope. Some scents in this genre are reminiscent of cherry pie or even powdered lilac, but not L'Heure Bleue.
Dionysian Orgy, the fragrance by The Greek Perfumer, is similarly inviting to a painting by Caravaggio with a youth savoring a goblet of wine amidst a luscious dinner party. The composition is fruity-ambery with spicy accents that have a succulent effect. The ambience of the classic recipe for the mellis accord, which accounts for spicy oriental formulas, is present at the very heart; it evokes the best part of Cinnabar, Opium, and Youth Dew. And last but not least,
Putain de Palaces by Etat Libre d' Orange. Spare a thought for those who expect a "whore's perfume" to be rich in heavy, oriental notes full of hints and animal scents that refer to instincts. They will be quite surprised. We are dealing with a clear descendant of the Tresor skeleton, the classic, with-a-décolleté accord of rose, fluffy peach, and synthetic notes of violets and clean musk - which is perfectly in line with the choice of this particular perfume as the scent of strippers in posh clubs of other decades. Something strong, something clean, something ladylike, so as to not rouse suspicions in the minds of the clients' wives upon their return home. The fragrance is a bit powdery in the general sense of cosmetic products (lipstick, face make-up)
For the holidays 2024-2025 I drenched myself with the spectacularly chic Splendida Iris d' Or by Bvlgari, a precious gift from a friend. It is the recalibration of their criminally discontinued Bvlgari pour Femme and feels like the softest pashmina shawl on the shoulders and decolletage.
I will devote a separate post on my newer scented discoveries to usher forth 2025, but feel free to add yours.
I pledge conscious fashion choices for my 2025 bucket list. Not sure it will always be a choice that can be materialised, since it requires more time and distance spent than I'm usually willing to devote, but we have globally arrived at a time when every little thing matters. I intend to recycle some of my older clothes into newer schemes and styling and update with great quality accessories as always. Heirlooms, silk scarves, and actual leather handbags that have withstood the floods of time need not be crushed at the back of the closet.
LISTENING
I discovered La Chapelle Musique during the holidays thanks to their Noel recordings and was charmed. Here they are for your inspection (and they have lots of material on their channel).
I have increasingly been using just liquid black liner on my lash line, plus a touch of mascara on my upper lashes, and substituted posh brands for high-street alternatives for the products to do the job. My current duo is Calligraph Pro Matt Liner Waterproof by Catrice and The False Lashes Mascara by Essence. They perform great, staying put until I take them off myself and apart from not budging they also not sting in the eyes.
On the contrary I have been using posh lipsticks on my lips and intend to continue doing so this year. The Tom Ford lipsticks may suffer from a somewhat vulgarised aesthetic, as is customary to the sex sells adage supporting some brands, but the quality is unquestionable. They melt like butter on the lips when applying, stay nicely put for the most part, and when fading leave a nice stain, plus they come in a wide array of colours which please my artistic eye and warm the cockles of my little heart. The shade 04 Aphrodite with the alluring name is a favourite, in the Lip Color Sheer collection. It's a nice mid-plum, mid-rose shade that contrary to what's advertised doesn't let the natural hue of the lips shine through (and therefore reads warmer than my own set) and leaves a satiny finish. Perfect for everyday as well as dressier occasions, exactly because two glides provide much pigment. The odd thing is it's 55$ in the USA according to Temptalia and 61 euros in the local retail market, more expensive than any other brand, which makes me wonder how physical stores intend to stay open in the long term! But I digress...
I'm also currently in search of a great blurring primer that can be worn alone over sunscreen in the cooler months and in the warmer springtime ahead. I like soft and satiny things rather than all glam gloss glass skin. Any suggestions? Thanks for your input.
Contrary to colognes that take their time to establish the synthetically enhanced citrus notes before sinking into an indelible loop of scrubbed musk, the depths of Eau de Lancaster seem to appear almost immediately under the effervescent affluence of soapy hesperides (no doubt thanks to aldehyde attributed to coriander in the pyramid). Like a lining that's beginning to show at the point of overstretched seams, it hints at what's beneath.
The third edition by Lancaster chronologically, which is circulating nowadays in online retailers, circles back and revisited Eau de Lancaster for men from 1977, with the same name and a much more architectural design for the bottle: subtly fluted, curvaceous, beautifully simple and diaphanous, highlighting the light green shade of its juice (the photo below is leaning a bit more blue-ish than green as is in reality). This Eau de Lancaster relaunched in 1997 with yet another different set of notes, but it's really a revisiting of the original theme: a starched white shirt of a scent.
The latest edition of the 1997 bottle also circulates as Lancaster Grace in eau de toilette concentration, 125ml / 4.2 fl.oz.size, and this time aimed at women only (though not quite, it's all about the name, really). Definitely an allusion to the princess of Monaco, Grace Kelly, the patron saint of Lancaster, but also not so amiss as a reference to the glorious, magnificent scent of the fragrance itself. A lovely, fresh, silky olfactory landscape that is clean and natural referencing, creating an aura of gentility and class. The truly rich do not draw attention via their fragrance of choice; they let it speak in murmurs.
Those who like fragrances like Eau de Cartier, Pomelatto Artemisia 67, Eau de Rochas, Clarins Eau Dynamissante and the like, should try this out.
Back in August 2023, Jean Paul Gaultier launched Gaultier Divine, the brand's new feminine fragrance, classified as a gourmand marine floral. American actress Yara Shahidi has been selected to represent the new fragrance, imagined as a celebration of femininity. It is signed by perfumer Quentin Bisch and is made of floral, gourmand, and marine notes. For Gaultier Divine the bet was on creating something that young women would want for themselves and everyone would like having them approach them.
Gaultier Divine capitalizes on the marine semiotics which the Gaultier team has used ever since the cool matelot-clad sailor for Le Male. The marine theme is very tongue-in-cheek. On the one hand the homoerotic nuances of sailors, on the other the salty touch of the new fragrance aimed at women. The fragrance is depicted on women gazing at men at sea. But it's all a tempest in a bottle! The allusion to a scent that would create a similar tempest on those smelling it is not lost upon us. The women playfully cajole and seduce the sailor trapped inside this bottle. It's cleverer than a simple seduction trick in advertising and subtle enough that it does not scream sexist or cliché.
Solar fragrances are probably the genre into which I would classify this creation. The term solar fragrance notes (on which I have written extensively) expresses the essence of sunshine and the appeal of endless sugar-spun sands, or the embrace of tanned, warm skin. A perfumer uses helional and mainly salicylates to render this effect, sometimes heliotrope synthetics, too. Flower accents of tiare, frangipani, and ylang-ylang, contribute to this exotic field, alongside mimosa, coconut, vanilla, and salty or marine notes. But not all are used in Gaultier Divine which is as airy as a meringue.
pic borrowed from confessions of baking queen
Calypsone stands here for the iodic facets of oakmoss, as well as watery facets in the floral bouquet of Gaultier Divine, as the interplay between watery and yet non-sweet is beautifully rendered amidst the heart notes. My initial personal impression upon spraying is that someone crossed the bridge between the intensely solar-salicylate chord of Lys Soleia (Guerlain Aqua Allegoria), which was a bit too summery, and the much more delicate treatment of lily-salicylate in Vanille Galante (Hermessences). The latter, although baptized vanilla, is really a lily, the kind with white waxy petals and red stamens, spicy and sweet, yet alluring and mesmerizing. Benzyl salicylate has been the mainstay of this sort of genre, with benzyl amyl and cis 3 hexenyl, the mothership of solar fragrances. I am hypothesizing that Bisch is working his magic in Gaultier Divine with the salicylate molecule Karmaflor he has access to, if only to bypass the rationing of salicylates due to IFRA restrictions, but also to tie it to Mahonial (a lily synthetic) and Nympheal (a watery molecule that has flowery, lotus and lily facets). Lilies do have a salty nuance themselves, as deliciously explored in the once poetic Lys Mediterranee (it has now been tampered with somewhat).
The base is crafted through the synergy of mainly vanilla and benzoin, with subtly caramelic facets and a clean musk, but always balanced by the salty-lily drenched in the sea breeze chord — never too sweet like many other gourmands. It's the balancing act of a skilled equilibrist.
The effect of Gaultier Divine is therefore beautifully crunchy. A little bit salty, it resembles munching on savory toffee with fleur de sel snippets scattered in it, resisting to the tooth, like...exactly, an airy meringue. A success!
Hermès launched another vegetal, light, and airy fragrance in its Cologne collection in July 2022. Eau de Basilic Pourpre represents a sunny and summery Mediterranean scent, inspired by basil at a farmer's market, a very common occurrence in open air spaces in the south of Europe and temperate climate Middle Eastern countries.
The composition was created by in-house perfumer Christine Nagel, who describes it as an instant burst of pleasure and freshness. Rather than imitating the scent of basil itself, the perfumer relied on her memory of a smell she once experienced and the impression she remembers.
The fragrance of Eau de Basilic Pourpre focuses on basil's invigorating and herbal scent, combined with light touches of bergamot from Calabria, geranium (in its geraniol rosy-green-minty facets), a hint of patchouli, and warm peppery-clovey spices. Purple basil is the main ingredient, as it takes center stage in the composition.
The spicy component in Eau de Basilic Pourpre is recognizable as soon as the bottle is sprayed. It's an invigorating scent that many people smelling it identify as mint, actually, but that is probably because they cannot pinpoint accurately, over-acclimatized as they are to functional scents from toothpaste and chewing gum. Which is strange in a way, because people around the Mediterranean are well accustomed with the scent of potted basil - but there you have the poetic interpretation we were talking about stirring Nagel's imagination and creativity. The variant used or the combination of spicy notes is not immediately a thought of a basil salad and that's what makes the scent very wearable.
In fact it also bonds with the rest of the heritage in that it replicates elements of the dry-down of the original 1979 Eau d'Orange Verte, (also known as Eau de Cologne Hermes); that impression of a hesperidic peel being clawed on with a cruel fingernail. Nagel plays homage, clearly.
After the initial spicy jolt the scent development of Eau de Basilic Pourpre calms into a chord that recalls the classic Cologne structure with clean musk and the distinction of a floral note; in this case that's geranium, making it perfectly unisex and to most women leaning unto masculine because of the distinct lack of sweetness overall.
It was a full seven years since Prada introduced an entirely new perfume for either gender, exploiting its established lines all this time. To my disappointment, the new women's pillar fragrance, Prada Paradoxe, fell short. It's a women's fragrance, yes, like periods are womanly, and it's clean like we're supposed to smell, sanitized.
But that's a pity, as it could be so much more. Especially from a pink colored bottle and box, one expects a touch of irreverence, as they did with the wonderful gourmand of Prada Candy - perfect from start to finish, the witty campaign most of all.
In her directorial debut, Emma Watson was said to embrace all her multiple dimensions – the artist, the activist, the actor, the woman – "in a dynamic, liberating film that captures the empowered spirit of Prada Paradoxe."
The usual suspect, Daniella Roche-Andrier, isn't behind this Prada creation. Three other perfumers are credited with creating Paradoxe. Usually, this fills me with trepidation. Surely one vision split in three, fixed here and there, means that rather than a collaboration of creativity, it is a project that needed multiple sessions in the drawing room to discuss faults and effects? I might be judging too harshly. The perfumers are certainly renowned and respected. I feel this is more of an odd corporate decision on the part of L'Oreal, who own the license for Prada fragrances, after taking over from Puig.
The initial olfactory impression of Paradoxe by Prada is equal parts fruity and floral, nectarous with orange blossom, with a resemblance to both My Way and Libre by YSL, oddly enough.
It then breaks apart and becomes sweeter and somewhat muskier, without abanding the shampoo cleanliness of its core message. Its creamy musk with touches of soft suede is held on the skin for a long time, but the fruit dissipates. Yet with so many floral woody muskies on the market at the moment, what is the purpose of another one in Prada Paradoxe that becomes less than the sum of its parts?
A dirty mind is a joy forever, they say! The newest Baruti perfume, Oh my deer!, a play upon the expression and the deer musk ingredient prized in perfumery, started as an exercise in recreating the scent of deer musk. That ages old animalistic substance of mythical dimensions which lend such a sensuality to perfume that all scent is feeling...
The accord was quickly done, but releasing it as a standalone fragrance felt boring and redundant, so a whole composition was built around it.
Focusing on contrasts, the perfume opens very bright and radiant, then slowly morphs in this sensual enveloping scent that provides excitement and comfort at the same time. Just like the song The Honeymooners by Lucky Jim says “My body be your focus, your labor be my joy,“ or simply put: No pain, no gain.
The new scent, Oh my deer! is presented as a beautiful mess by its creator, the perfumer Spyros Drosopoulos – "sexy, sensual, and a little bit kinky."
What can I say? I'm sold. :)
The olfactory notes of Baruti Oh my deer! include spicy accents of black pepper, Sichuan pepper, as well as aldehydes and metallic notes. It then radiates with a lily-of-the-valley accord, before seguing into the warmer embrace of incense, amber, vanilla, a soft barnyard accord, and lots and lots of musk...
Elizabeth Arden Green Tea is one of Francis Kurkjian's timeless success stories, which built his reputation for
effortless light diaphanous fragrances, in turn setting the record for
his own Maison Francis Kurkdjian creations that sparkle and trail like gauze in the morning sun. Yet Green Tea is a case where one perfumer imitates another.
The sophisticated and intellectual Jean Claude Ellena created L'Eau Parfumée
first as a room spray for Bvlgari boutiques in Rome in the 1990s, and
as a stand alone fragrance around the world later. He came up with it
while playing with Iso E Super and jasmine chords, creating an original
accord that he called "green tea." He states so in his writings, that he
chose the name because he was impressed by the Japanese green tea
ceremony. He wanted to recreate that feeling of comforting serenity,
that precious luxury, the one of seemingly endless time. Or at the very
least of meaningful time. He was mindful before mindfulness was a thing.
Ozonic with a green bamboo note, and lemon accords that do not bring images of classic Eau de Cologne, thanks to its green grassy shade, Green Tea takes you because of its name in the highlands of Darjeeling and Sikkim, on the backs of elephants. It perfectly makes me at once calm down and feel like the draining energy of intense heat is not a worrisome burden anymore. There is the promise of spice and botanical stuff but it's just that – a hint, a soupçon of a taunt, never fully materialized. It remains cool and collected, not passionate.
Delicate, fresh, drumming like light percussion, airy and tonic, Green Tea by Elizabeth Arden is welcome coolness in the heat, which is much appreciated for casual occasions and daytime. But if you're the type of person to eschew evening fragrances in the summer months, this could easily fit in your wardrobe.
It's also a startlingly good steal on online stores, demanding very little.
Fragrance notes for Elizabeth Arden Green Tea:
Top notes are Lemon, Bergamot, Mint, Orange Peel and Rhubarb
Middle notes are Jasmine, Oakmoss, Fennel, Musk, Carnation and White Amber
Base notes are Green Tea, Jasmine, Oakmoss, Musk, Celery Seeds, Caraway, Cloves and Amber
For something so quiet and soft, True Love is a very impressive performer, I can attest.
The scent of True Love (1994) combines elements of two beloved fragrances that followed it: Nivea eau de toilette, which I have reviewed in the past, and Irisia by Creed, which is a more chypre take on the soapy floralcy of this one (supposedly a 1960s composition, but in reality much more modern). It has elements that make the Dove soap, the classic white creamy bar, so lovely to smell and use.
True Love projects quite linear, starting with a whoosh of soapy cleanliness and segueing into an abstract lactonic floralcy of no discernible edges. It's soft all around, like a pink angora sweater, and cooling like a glass of pink champagne. Sarah Horowitz capitalized on the concept with her Perfect Veil, a cult item of a scent around the millennium based on the combination of citrusy sparkle, soft clean musk, and a smidgen of vanilla for sweetness - a gauze of a scent theoretically, something that lingers, does not appear too perfume-y for the sensibilities of the women of the late 1990s, yet is still quite the beast.
Do not expect much from the bottle itself. It's a plain cylindrical
style in glass, capped by an unassuming plastic cap to correspond.
Nothing to write home about. But it's what's inside that counts. Elizabeth Arden's fragrance bottles and compositions tend to look unassuming and prosaic on the surface.
Online discounters often offer Elizabeth Arden fragrances at exceptionally low prices, considering the quality, lasting power, and decency of the liquid inside. It's a brand worth seeking out.
Kobako means "small box" in Japanese, as far as I know. But try adding a katana-blade symbol over the first "o," and it turns into Kōbako. Then it gains the nuance of a small box for solid aromatics used in the incense ceremony in kōdō (香道, "Way of Incense"); the ritual burning of incense to count the time. Such is the case with Kobako by the classic French brand Bourjois.
A composition that initially hails from 1936 and the creative genius of perfumer Ernest Beaux, but which survives to this day in a contemporary Parfum de Toilette version that was first issued during the 1980s in the cristal taillé style bottle and the maroon box photographed below. The actual launch date for the modern version is 1982, and I doubt that the two editions have much in common, both stylistically and artistically. There was too much water under the bridge by then.
photo by Elena Vosnaki
It's interesting to note that one of the connotations for the word 'box' is the one used in slang, in many languages, for female genitalia. Indeed, again as far as I have been informed, kōbako in modern Japanese slang refers to that as well. But the scent in question is not an animalic or intimate smell that would polarize at all. In fact, it's this discrepancy that prompted my review.
The current fomula is not the one from the 1930s, so the description pertains to the 1980s mix.
The domineering feeling is one of soap, like an old-fashioned soap for men, with cinnamon and sandalwood, and that creamy feeling that generations past associate with comfort and hot water. The florals used in the heart of Kobako are not discernible; they mix and mingle and tear apart again. There is definitely rose, which mollifies the formula, and probably a segment of something white-floral for a bit of clarity (possibly a part of lily of the valley aroma chemicals to give diffusion and expansion.)
Kobako combines these elements in a naughty, playful, almost haphazard way - the masculine backdrop with the feminine florals and the aldehydes - to render a juxtaposing composition. It hides its dark corners, but it's not entirely clean either. It has the versatility to make itself wearable all year long and never bother or disappear.
It feels fresh and spicy one minute, metallic and powdery the next, with a segment of dry patchouli in the back. What is this scent, I ask you? It consistently garners some comment or other, always in a positive way. It might not be the most accepted fragrance or the most derided - it hinges on that razor-sharp axis - but it's worth sampling at the very least. Some of you will end up wearing it when you won't know what to wear for the day, I promise.
The woody element in the back and the soapiness render Bourjois' Kobako very easy on the skin. There is not enough spice, although cinnamon is mentioned. I do not detect it as such, more of a smidge of clove, which is faint. It's also quite musky, in a good way, not the screechy white musk from laundry detergents, but not dirty either. It just melds with the skin and holds on to it.
Finding one's perfect soapy fragrance is a question of defining the scent of soap in the first place. Will it be the classic Camay and Lux soap of yesteryear, which smelled of roses and aldehydes? Will it be the original Dove with its iris-musk aura or its newer iterations with fruits and coconut? Are we talking about chamomile and the botanical smells of pine and lavender, perhaps of jasmine and flowers, allied to powerful powdery aspects, or are we concentrating on fatty aldehydes known from Aleppo and Marseilles soap which smell like clean laundry on a line? I'm personally quite fond of the latter, to be honest.
The promise of Marseilles soap, in its own particular way both sweetish and fatty-acrid, is strikingly fulfilled in Naviglio by Italian niche brand Milano Fragranze. It does smell soapy, really soapy-smelling! The perfect scent for capturing summer cleanliness, but also great for year-round, when you want to project that pristine white, bright impression that is deliriously happy, like lily of the valley bells peaking through the grass on a warm day.
Although we're prepared by the brand for a marine fragrance, with the mention of the canals outside Milan, the aquatic notes here are not the sort met at the seafront, salty and/or with whiffs of organic matter decomposing. In Naviglio, they instead recall the clean ambiance of a humidifier, the lovely sweetish scent of water ponds, and dewiness on a climbing ivy. This effect reminds me of two quirky little scents, Rem by Reminiscence and Ivy by the Fragrance Library (Demeter). It's captured perfectly here, and alongside the soap, it creates a charming, easy-to-wear fragrance.
Bonus points for its incredibly long-lasting quality. It radiated on my skin for the full 12-hour mark!
.jpg)
.jpg)
