May and June are traditionally the months when the queen of flowers, the rose, makes its regal appearance in gardens across the world. Shakespeare said it well "At Christmas I no more desire a rose. Than wish a snow in May's new-fangled shows; But like of each thing that in season grows." [from Love's Labour Lost] Ovid wrote: "The sharpest thorn often produces delicate roses" and a Turkish proverb claims "Thorns and roses grow on the same tree".
Rose has captured the imagination of all cultures, of all men. Its association with beauty, romance and physical perfection dates back a long, long time ago and doesn't show any signs of waning. All it asks is our appreciation. Like in Saint-Exypery's Little Prince, we must tend our rose (literal and metaphorical), for it to bloom and to reach its peak. But bend to actually smell the roses, literally, and you find a nuanced, multi-layered cornucopia of fragrant notes, evolving, tingling, provoking you into reaction... Rose isn't a simpleton.
The Rose Family
The rose is a rose,
And was always a rose.
But the theory now goes
That the apple’s a rose
~Robert Frost (1874–1963)
There are Five English Rose Fragrance Descriptors
According to David Austin Roses, the following descriptors, much like in wine and tea (or indeed like perfume!) serve to guide like a compass into how rose can have specific nuances in its scent profile.
Myrrh: An aromatic, anise-like scent; among roses it's found almost exclusively in English roses.
Fruity: Because the rose is related to apricots, pears, apples, strawberries and others, fruity notes often surface.
Musk: A romantic scent, it often comes from the flower's stamens. People are especially sensitive to the scent.
Old rose: The classic rose fragrance, it's found almost exclusively in pink and red roses.
Tea rose: A strong scent — like that of fresh tea — that often dominates a flower. Other fragrances can become evident over time.
An Expert's Favorites
Michael Marriott handles as technical director and head rosarian for David Austin Roses and along with fellow scent expert Rober Calkin regularly oversees the production of roses. Not every variant can fit the needs we have. As Elenor Roosevelt once said: "I once had a rose named after me and I was very flattered. But I was
not pleased to read the description in the catalogue: no good in a bed,
but fine up against a wall".
Here Marriot has chosen his top David Austin roses, based largely on their scent. His list of favorite rose variants:
Gertrude Jekyll: Marriott says this is considered the quintessential old rose fragrance: strong, rich, complex and well-balanced. (USDA Zones 4-8)
Munstead Wood: Also a strong old rose scent, it features notes of blackberry, blueberry and damson plum. (Zones 5-9)
Lady Emma Hamilton: A strong, fruity fragrance (pear, grape and citrus) that complements its orange and yellow coloring. (Zones 5-9)
Scepter'd Isle: With a strong myrrh fragrance, this variety has won the Royal National Rose Society's award for fragrance. (Zones 5-10)
Harlow Carr: Another old rose floral scent that complements a classic old rose form. (Zones 5-9)
Read more tips on appreciating the scent of live roses on this link
pic mmdelrosario.hubpages.com
Wednesday, June 6, 2012
Tuesday, June 5, 2012
Perfumery Material: Cashmeran/ Blonde Woods
Thanks to its pliability, which fits like a glove many diverse compositions of different fragrance families, or thanks to its diffusiveness and tenacity, Cashmeran or blonde woods is a molecule which forms the core of many a modern perfume formula; a synthetic not found in nature but copiously used in products we use every day from soap to shampoo and deodorant.
Chemistry
The proper name of Cashmeran is 1,2,3,5,6,7-hexahydro-1,2,3,3-pentamethyl-4h-inden-4-one. You might also come across it as "musk indanone" or "indomuscone". Though commonly refered to as "blonde woods" in perfume speak, the reality is that the ingredient Cashmeran (an International Flavors and Fragrances appelation) is actually a musk component with a yellow, trickly texture. Its scent profile takes over a vast sea between woods and ambers, abstract and indefinable. Not currently under the allergens list controled by IFRA it is used in a variety of products. There are som concerns that excessive use of polycyclic musks might do some liver damage, but we're probably talking massive amounts here.
The name Cashmeran derives from its tactile feel which recalls the smoothness and softness of cashmere wool. Among the first perfumes to use it in a considerable degree were Loulou by Cacharel (1987) and Paco Rabanne Sport (1986).
as is Sexy Graffiti by Escada (2002). Tempting though it may be to imagine that modern best-seller Cashmere Mist by Donna Karan (1994) is full of it, in reality the powdery soft perfume doesn't use it.
Insoluble in water and hydrophobic, Cashmeran is therefore a prime target for use in functional perfumery too, since it won't rinse out: detergents, fabric softener, alcoholic lotions, deodorants, shampoos, you name it... But fine perfumery has profited of its advantages as well.
Scent Profile: Abstract, Musky, Woody, Concrete Hit by Rain
The diffusive, musky-woody scent is reminiscent of concrete (especially the abstract woody scent that concrete gives when hit upon by rain, a cityscape in the rain), also lightly spicy, lightly powdery. Though perfumers sometimes describe it to also have apple and pine facets I admit I haven't detected those myself. It is however used as a powerful floralizer as it aids the expansion and diffusion of floral notes, especially accords of jasmine, as in Thierry Mugler's Alien (it's also used in Womanity) or the lighter Flora Nerolia by Guerlain (where it's married to neroli and frankincense as well). Other cult fragrances to feature it prominently include the discontinued Feu d'Issey and Kenzo's Jungle L'Elephante and Jungle Le Tigre.
In Histoires de Parfums' Tuberose Trilogy, Gislain chose to include the note in the Tubereuse Virginale offering, where blond woods coexist with naturally cohabitating, heady white flowers on a base of patchouli and vanilla. Dans tes Bras by Editions de Parfums Frederic Malle contains a hefty dose of Cashmeran alongside the violet nuances and so does his Une Fleur de Cassie, while Wonderwood by Comme des Garcons, Diptyque's Eau Particuliere, Nasomatto Duro, Byredo La Tulipe and Al Khatt by Xerjoff Shooting Stars collection are a few more niche offerings exploiting Cashmeran's diffusiveness. Perfumer Mathilde Laurent, currently in-house perfumer for Cartier, has a particular fondness for it.
How to Incorporate Cashmeran into Perfumes
Blending well with other modern ingredients (ambroxan, allyl amyl glycolate, damascones, ethyl maltol...) as well as natural ingredients (frankincense, clary sage, citrus, geraniol, linalool, patchouli, tonka bean, vetiver, etc.), Cashmeran presents a vista of options for the creative perfumer.
It can serve woody or warm musk compositions (see Miami Glow by JLo), formulae resting on rose and saffron, tobacco or oud masculine blends (see Nomaoud by Comptoir Sud Pacifique or Byredo's Accord Oud), even perfumes with jonquil or cassie. It can even aid aqueous olfactory scapes, such as in Armani's Acqua di Gioia Essenza!
Tocca Florence, Tom Ford White Patchouli, Step into Sexy by Avon, Philosophy Love, Blumarine Innamorata, Kylie Minogue Dazzling Darling, Hugo Boss Hugo (in the flask bottle), Anna Sui Night of Fancy, Oriflame Paradise and Burberry Body are a few more of f the fragrances featuring this musk-woody component.
Another one of the advantages of this fairly inexpensive musky component is that it has a medium potency in volume projection, but a long trail that surpasses a full day's length. Being a mild sensitiser, its ratio is currently restricted to no more than 2% of the compound.
It's clear we will be seeing it more and more admitted as such in official perfume press releases in the years to come.
Chemistry
The proper name of Cashmeran is 1,2,3,5,6,7-hexahydro-1,2,3,3-pentamethyl-4h-inden-4-one. You might also come across it as "musk indanone" or "indomuscone". Though commonly refered to as "blonde woods" in perfume speak, the reality is that the ingredient Cashmeran (an International Flavors and Fragrances appelation) is actually a musk component with a yellow, trickly texture. Its scent profile takes over a vast sea between woods and ambers, abstract and indefinable. Not currently under the allergens list controled by IFRA it is used in a variety of products. There are som concerns that excessive use of polycyclic musks might do some liver damage, but we're probably talking massive amounts here.
The name Cashmeran derives from its tactile feel which recalls the smoothness and softness of cashmere wool. Among the first perfumes to use it in a considerable degree were Loulou by Cacharel (1987) and Paco Rabanne Sport (1986).
as is Sexy Graffiti by Escada (2002). Tempting though it may be to imagine that modern best-seller Cashmere Mist by Donna Karan (1994) is full of it, in reality the powdery soft perfume doesn't use it.
Insoluble in water and hydrophobic, Cashmeran is therefore a prime target for use in functional perfumery too, since it won't rinse out: detergents, fabric softener, alcoholic lotions, deodorants, shampoos, you name it... But fine perfumery has profited of its advantages as well.
Scent Profile: Abstract, Musky, Woody, Concrete Hit by Rain
The diffusive, musky-woody scent is reminiscent of concrete (especially the abstract woody scent that concrete gives when hit upon by rain, a cityscape in the rain), also lightly spicy, lightly powdery. Though perfumers sometimes describe it to also have apple and pine facets I admit I haven't detected those myself. It is however used as a powerful floralizer as it aids the expansion and diffusion of floral notes, especially accords of jasmine, as in Thierry Mugler's Alien (it's also used in Womanity) or the lighter Flora Nerolia by Guerlain (where it's married to neroli and frankincense as well). Other cult fragrances to feature it prominently include the discontinued Feu d'Issey and Kenzo's Jungle L'Elephante and Jungle Le Tigre.
In Histoires de Parfums' Tuberose Trilogy, Gislain chose to include the note in the Tubereuse Virginale offering, where blond woods coexist with naturally cohabitating, heady white flowers on a base of patchouli and vanilla. Dans tes Bras by Editions de Parfums Frederic Malle contains a hefty dose of Cashmeran alongside the violet nuances and so does his Une Fleur de Cassie, while Wonderwood by Comme des Garcons, Diptyque's Eau Particuliere, Nasomatto Duro, Byredo La Tulipe and Al Khatt by Xerjoff Shooting Stars collection are a few more niche offerings exploiting Cashmeran's diffusiveness. Perfumer Mathilde Laurent, currently in-house perfumer for Cartier, has a particular fondness for it.
How to Incorporate Cashmeran into Perfumes
Blending well with other modern ingredients (ambroxan, allyl amyl glycolate, damascones, ethyl maltol...) as well as natural ingredients (frankincense, clary sage, citrus, geraniol, linalool, patchouli, tonka bean, vetiver, etc.), Cashmeran presents a vista of options for the creative perfumer.
It can serve woody or warm musk compositions (see Miami Glow by JLo), formulae resting on rose and saffron, tobacco or oud masculine blends (see Nomaoud by Comptoir Sud Pacifique or Byredo's Accord Oud), even perfumes with jonquil or cassie. It can even aid aqueous olfactory scapes, such as in Armani's Acqua di Gioia Essenza!
Tocca Florence, Tom Ford White Patchouli, Step into Sexy by Avon, Philosophy Love, Blumarine Innamorata, Kylie Minogue Dazzling Darling, Hugo Boss Hugo (in the flask bottle), Anna Sui Night of Fancy, Oriflame Paradise and Burberry Body are a few more of f the fragrances featuring this musk-woody component.
Another one of the advantages of this fairly inexpensive musky component is that it has a medium potency in volume projection, but a long trail that surpasses a full day's length. Being a mild sensitiser, its ratio is currently restricted to no more than 2% of the compound.
It's clear we will be seeing it more and more admitted as such in official perfume press releases in the years to come.
Monday, June 4, 2012
Frag Name of the Day: Elaborating on How to Pronounce French Perfume Names
I don't know how many of you have been familiarised with French names in perfumes and perfume houses. Probably most, since you're reading here, but there has been a big demand for a guide into the right pronunciantion, especially among the English language native speakers who are often at a loss in front of the vowels and accents and all the bells & whistles that other European languages possess; for better or worse.
In the past I had found one useful link for proper pronunciation of designers etc. names, linked here. Still, not everything was there and the completed phrase of a fragrance name might create its own intricate liaisons etc. which would alter the individualised pronunciation of each word. Those of you who know French as foreign language, as I do, understand perfectly well what I mean.
One French-born, UK-dwelling professional translator going by the name of Bela on fragrance boards has decided to provide just what was asked for: an actual pronunciation reference with audible files instead of just phonetics for most French names, updating regularly and taking demands from readers too. Her site is called Frag Name of the Day and you can find the link here.
Now, you can't have any excuses on mispronouncing, since correct pronunciation is but a click of the mouse away! So you can save yourself the embarassement of the protagonist in Paul Verhoeven's movie Show Girls when she pronounces Versace as "Ver-sayce". (Wait, that's Italian! Well, we can't have it all, I guess). Regardless...kudos for massive work done.
Further on: What does Bela think on fragrance names as someone who occupies herself with them as much, the French attitude towards perfumes vs. the British attitude, the rising Arabian-style perfumery with the names to correspond (will they eclipse the French?) and other assorted perfume questions? Here's a short interview she granted Perfume Shrine for your pleasure. Enjoy!
I don’t mind foreign companies giving French names to their perfumes – as long
as they are grammatically correct and follow all the rules about genders and adjective
agreements, etc. This is not a new phenomenon. French companies do it too. They
believe it gives their products a certain cachet. An interesting experiment
would be to market the same juice under two different names and see which sells
better. As for names that combine words from two languages, I find them moronic.
English and French are both incredibly rich languages, it shouldn’t be too hard
to come up with beautiful/witty/evocative names in either language without
resorting to a mishmash/jumble/gallimaufry/hotchpotch. LOL! That’s what I would
say to those unimaginative companies.
In the past I had found one useful link for proper pronunciation of designers etc. names, linked here. Still, not everything was there and the completed phrase of a fragrance name might create its own intricate liaisons etc. which would alter the individualised pronunciation of each word. Those of you who know French as foreign language, as I do, understand perfectly well what I mean.
One French-born, UK-dwelling professional translator going by the name of Bela on fragrance boards has decided to provide just what was asked for: an actual pronunciation reference with audible files instead of just phonetics for most French names, updating regularly and taking demands from readers too. Her site is called Frag Name of the Day and you can find the link here.
Now, you can't have any excuses on mispronouncing, since correct pronunciation is but a click of the mouse away! So you can save yourself the embarassement of the protagonist in Paul Verhoeven's movie Show Girls when she pronounces Versace as "Ver-sayce". (Wait, that's Italian! Well, we can't have it all, I guess). Regardless...kudos for massive work done.
![]() |
| phonetics: not exactly accurate... |
Further on: What does Bela think on fragrance names as someone who occupies herself with them as much, the French attitude towards perfumes vs. the British attitude, the rising Arabian-style perfumery with the names to correspond (will they eclipse the French?) and other assorted perfume questions? Here's a short interview she granted Perfume Shrine for your pleasure. Enjoy!
1. The website Frag Name of
the Day began as the reply to the demand of MUAers and perfume lovers on boards
questioning the correct pronunciation of French names. Is it very annoying
having companies naming their fragrances in French though they don't have any
business doing so or they're mixing up French and English (such as Miller
Harris)? What would you say to them if you could?
2. Do you think that simply
put "a French name sells" when it comes to perfumes? (i.e. goes with
the territory) Or could it backfire? How if so?
I
expect a French name sells otherwise companies wouldn’t carry on doing it, would
they? To a lot of people, France is synonymous
with style so anything that sounds French is bound to be refined and automatically
infused with elegance. Giving a product a French name in the hope that
consumers will be influenced by it is lazy, but if that marketing strategy was
going to backfire it would have done so a long time ago. The appetite for
French names doesn’t seem to have been sated yet.
3. Do you believe – as I do – that the French have oversold their ability to corner the market on producing
worthwhile perfumes?
They’ve
been at it for a very long time; do you really think they’re losing their grip?
Even if they don’t actually corner the market any longer, it doesn’t mean they aren’t
still a very important player. I’m afraid I lack the specialist knowledge
required to answer this question effectively.
4. Do you ever correct
Sales Associates when they mispronounce a fragrance name?
You
would expect me to, wouldn’t you? LOL! I never do. I pronounce names correctly
and, if it’s met with an uncomprehending look, I repeat them with an English
accent. The only time I correct SAs is when they try to make me believe some BS
about the products they’re selling.
5. As a professional
translator between the two languages (French & English) why do you think
that the British often "mangle" the French language and the French often "mangle" the English
language? Is it intentional? Is it historical reasons behind
it?
I don’t
think the Brits mangle the French language or the French the English language intentionally.
Why would they do that? Surely the primary purpose of learning a language is to
be able to communicate and mispronouncing things creates obstacles to this
communication. The British mouth is not made for the French language, and vice
versa: English requires a relaxed tongue and loose jaws; French is a ‘stiff’
language. Anglophones have problems with French genders; French grammar is very
difficult, etc. etc. They’re just so different. It could also have something to
do with the way they are taught (I was very lucky: my first English teacher was
a Brit. I learned to pronounce basic sounds accurately from the start. I never
went ‘ze ze ze’.) That said, I’m not sure I agree with you about those two
nationalities being the worst offenders. I’ve heard French being very badly
spoken by a lot of people, and here in London I hear English being massacred
daily by almost every foreigner I come across.
By
the way, since one can only translate accurately and with flair into one’s
mother tongue, I never take on work that involves translating into English.
Also, translating into a foreign language is not the done thing – from an
ethical point of view.
6. As a
French-born living permanently in the UK, which nation has a "better"
scent profile in your opinion? And what constitutes a "better" scent
profile anyway? Is it education, personality, a familiarity with the sensuous
world, what? [ed.note: I had presented my own views on this on this article called "Why the French (and other Europeans) grown up to love scents while Americans don't"]
You
must know I’m going to say France. It’s to do with lifestyle. The French know
how to enjoy life: good food, good wine, and other earthly pleasures. It
probably has something to do with being Catholic too. Britain is still a
Puritan country in many ways. The weather has a part to play too, I expect.
British perfumes are so wishy-washy and thin.
7. Is the Arabic trend the
latest thing because Europe has ceased to sound exotic to Americans (and maybe
the British too)? And will we need an Arabic Frag Name of the Day soon? :-)
Has
Europe ceased to sound exotic to Americans? I don’t think so. Yurp is still the
destination of choice for most Americans, and thanks to the Eurostar it’s on
Britain’s doorstep these days. Arabic names have always sounded exotic, haven’t
they? Could it be that they’re more noticeable these days because wealthy Arabs
are currently being courted by some companies? I really don’t know. By rights, we
should be seeing more Chinese names soon too. An Arabic Frag Name of the Day
would definitely be quite useful. Anyone want to emulate me? All you need is a
computer, a microphone, a copy of Audacity and a blog where you can post sound
files… oh, and plenty of time.
8. Which is you favorite perfume
right now and why?
Tubéreuse Criminelle
by Serge Lutens has been my signature scent for the past six years. It’s like
nothing else I’ve ever smelled; I can never get enough of the kerosene top note
and the mellow dry down. I’ve tried to be unfaithful; I’ve had very short
liaisons with other fragrances in those six years, but I always come back to
it. I doubt I will ever find anything to replace it.
Saturday, June 2, 2012
Hermes Equipage: fragrance review
If Calèche encapsulates perfumer Guy Robert's idea of a great taste feminine perfume, then Équipage is his idea of the perfect masculine; sober, handsome, restrained, graceful. These two Hermès fragrances embody both the house's easy, effortless elegance aesthetic (you can imagine them as "old money" contrasted with nouveau rich) and Guy Robert's idea that only a "lived-in" ambience about a scent makes it truly romantic; if you need more proof you can just test out Madame Rochas and his other marvels (Amouage Gold, Dioressence etc).
Scent Description
Aromatic, spicy and woody, the brief for Équipage was based on the success of Monsieur Rochas, composed by the same perfumer (Guy Robert) just one year prior, demanding the scent of a "cold pipe". Word has it that Jean Louis Sieuzac also worked on this one. The smokiness is there all right (I'm hypothesizing birch tar to give a smoked leather note, reminiscent of the Cuir de Russie type of scents), but there's pungent dryness instead of the usual rum casket fantasies of honeyed milky tobacco; such as the ones evoking languorous Turkish escapades that Lutens brings to his Fumerie Turque, to cite but one example. Liatris is an interesting note: it possesses both a herbaceous facet on one end and a hay & tobacco facet with only a subtly vanillic undercurrent on the other end, so it balances off nicely the bitter, pungent top notes of Équipage, reinforcing the concept of a smoking pipe.
Équipage is resolutely old-school and conservative smelling ~therefore probably anathema to anyone under 40, unless they have a perfume obsession~ and like an experienced acrobat balances between strength and finery, between the rustic herbs, the bitterness of the clary sage opening and the bite of cloves, on a base of smooth wood notes and a little sweet floral touch, a combination as dependable as a gentleman of the old guard. The florals cited in official notes description give only half the truth: the lily of the valley gives but crispness, the rosewood a profusion of linalool (that ingredient familiar from classic lavender), the carnation adds a clovey tint, as carnation composing was done by utilizing clove essence.
The true character of the fragrance evolves from the evolution of the aromatic, rustic and bitter herbal essences into rich woody, earthy notes in the drydown with a tinge of leather notes. In this it is in the same league as the equally magnificent Derby by Guerlain, which epitomizes the smooky woody fragrance genre; perhaps the Guerlain is a bit more balsamic and greener than the Hermès.
Who is it for?
I can vividly picture Équipage on a tweed-clad man out in the woods, lithe, supply riding his horse with his gun between horse bridles and saddle, leather lapels & patches on the jacket, having a good time only to return home when the sun is beginning to set. Perhaps it's so old-school that such a picture doesn't really seem ridiculous or overblown. Hermès at any rate likes to emphasize its "team player" name, showing the bottle over the photo of a rowing team. Cool, I get it. That's got to be some posh British college we're talking about, where the idea of a team spells dedication and loyalty and doesn't mess with anyone's individuality. Équipage smells perfectly individual nowadays, sticking like a diamond ring among graphite pencils, so perhaps my modern take is skewed. I suppose more men smelled in some variation of this liquid nectar back then....and oh boy, weren't those the times.
Équipage seems perfectly at ease on a smoker too, a heavy one at that, fusing with the remnants of the ashtray scent on the clothes into producing something delightful rather than repelling. No wonder in this age of cigarette demonisation Équipage looks like an outcast. Most interestingly this masculine eau de toilette works well in both the hot and cold season and lasts equally impressively, as it seems to morph to suit the weather. Winter brings out its crispness of sweet earth and woods. Summer heat highlights its cooling herbal, almost mentholated effect and its spicy kick.
I am a bit at a loss on how it would be possible to recommend it be worn by women, evocative as it is of virile-looking men like Sean Connery, however I have to share that I indulge myself in my vintage bottle more often than I'd care to admit. Perhaps there's something to be said about women embracing the idea of wearing a virile scent from time to time...
Vintage vs Modern Équipage
The vintage versions of Équipage bear a light brown cap with a screw top design; the modern is sparse, black, architectural. The modernised version, available at Hermès boutiques and department stores with a big selection of Hermès fragrances where you will have to ask for it by name, has attenuated some of the pungency and projection of this fragrance, without messing too much with its bouquet garni of herbs. If anything it's more citrusy and terpenic now than leathery, but not by much.
Notes for Hermès Équipage:
Top: bergamot, rosewood, lily of the valley, clary sage, tarragon, marjoram
Middle: jasmine, carnation, pine, hyssop, liatris (a herbaceous perennial)
Base: Vetiver, patchouli, tonka bea, amber
Scent Description
Aromatic, spicy and woody, the brief for Équipage was based on the success of Monsieur Rochas, composed by the same perfumer (Guy Robert) just one year prior, demanding the scent of a "cold pipe". Word has it that Jean Louis Sieuzac also worked on this one. The smokiness is there all right (I'm hypothesizing birch tar to give a smoked leather note, reminiscent of the Cuir de Russie type of scents), but there's pungent dryness instead of the usual rum casket fantasies of honeyed milky tobacco; such as the ones evoking languorous Turkish escapades that Lutens brings to his Fumerie Turque, to cite but one example. Liatris is an interesting note: it possesses both a herbaceous facet on one end and a hay & tobacco facet with only a subtly vanillic undercurrent on the other end, so it balances off nicely the bitter, pungent top notes of Équipage, reinforcing the concept of a smoking pipe.
Équipage is resolutely old-school and conservative smelling ~therefore probably anathema to anyone under 40, unless they have a perfume obsession~ and like an experienced acrobat balances between strength and finery, between the rustic herbs, the bitterness of the clary sage opening and the bite of cloves, on a base of smooth wood notes and a little sweet floral touch, a combination as dependable as a gentleman of the old guard. The florals cited in official notes description give only half the truth: the lily of the valley gives but crispness, the rosewood a profusion of linalool (that ingredient familiar from classic lavender), the carnation adds a clovey tint, as carnation composing was done by utilizing clove essence.
The true character of the fragrance evolves from the evolution of the aromatic, rustic and bitter herbal essences into rich woody, earthy notes in the drydown with a tinge of leather notes. In this it is in the same league as the equally magnificent Derby by Guerlain, which epitomizes the smooky woody fragrance genre; perhaps the Guerlain is a bit more balsamic and greener than the Hermès.
Who is it for?
I can vividly picture Équipage on a tweed-clad man out in the woods, lithe, supply riding his horse with his gun between horse bridles and saddle, leather lapels & patches on the jacket, having a good time only to return home when the sun is beginning to set. Perhaps it's so old-school that such a picture doesn't really seem ridiculous or overblown. Hermès at any rate likes to emphasize its "team player" name, showing the bottle over the photo of a rowing team. Cool, I get it. That's got to be some posh British college we're talking about, where the idea of a team spells dedication and loyalty and doesn't mess with anyone's individuality. Équipage smells perfectly individual nowadays, sticking like a diamond ring among graphite pencils, so perhaps my modern take is skewed. I suppose more men smelled in some variation of this liquid nectar back then....and oh boy, weren't those the times.
Équipage seems perfectly at ease on a smoker too, a heavy one at that, fusing with the remnants of the ashtray scent on the clothes into producing something delightful rather than repelling. No wonder in this age of cigarette demonisation Équipage looks like an outcast. Most interestingly this masculine eau de toilette works well in both the hot and cold season and lasts equally impressively, as it seems to morph to suit the weather. Winter brings out its crispness of sweet earth and woods. Summer heat highlights its cooling herbal, almost mentholated effect and its spicy kick.
I am a bit at a loss on how it would be possible to recommend it be worn by women, evocative as it is of virile-looking men like Sean Connery, however I have to share that I indulge myself in my vintage bottle more often than I'd care to admit. Perhaps there's something to be said about women embracing the idea of wearing a virile scent from time to time...
Vintage vs Modern Équipage
The vintage versions of Équipage bear a light brown cap with a screw top design; the modern is sparse, black, architectural. The modernised version, available at Hermès boutiques and department stores with a big selection of Hermès fragrances where you will have to ask for it by name, has attenuated some of the pungency and projection of this fragrance, without messing too much with its bouquet garni of herbs. If anything it's more citrusy and terpenic now than leathery, but not by much.
Notes for Hermès Équipage:
Top: bergamot, rosewood, lily of the valley, clary sage, tarragon, marjoram
Middle: jasmine, carnation, pine, hyssop, liatris (a herbaceous perennial)
Base: Vetiver, patchouli, tonka bea, amber
Labels:
carnation,
classic,
guy robert,
hermes,
hermes equipage,
masculine,
patchouli,
pine,
review,
rosewood,
smoky,
vetiver,
woody
Thursday, May 31, 2012
Christian Dior Dioressence: fragrance review
The advertisements read: "Exuberant. Smouldering.Uninhibited". It was all that and more. Mink coats, cigarette-holders, lightly smeared eyeliner after a hard night. Dioressence launched as "le parfum barbare" (a barbaric perfume); the ready-to-wear fur collection by Dior in 1970 was orchestrated to give a powerful image of women as Venus in Furs. Commanding, aloof, demanding, even a dominatrix. The fragrance first launched as a bath oil product, reinforcing the name, i.e. Dior's Essence, the house's nucleus in liquid form; Dior wanted to write history. It later came as a stand alone alcoholic perfume, the first composed by perfumer Guy Robert for Dior and history it wrote indeed. A new breed of parfum fourrure was born!
Dioressence: A Wild, Untamed Fragrance
The fragrance of Dioressence itself, in part the brief being a depart from Guy Robert's refined style, was the love affair of ambergris (a 100% natural essence at the time) with the original 1947 Miss Dior, a chypre animalic perfume, itself laced with the animal notes of leathery castoreum in the base, so the two elements fused into each other most compatibly. Ambergris is lightly salty and nutty-smelling, creating a lived-in aura, while leather notes are sharper and harsher, especially when coming from castoreum, an animal essence from beavers with an intense almost death-like stink. The two give a pungent note.
In Miss Dior this is politely glossed over by a powdery gardenia on top. The animalicistic eroticism is only perceptible in the drydown. In Dioressence the sexiness is felt from the very start, only briefly mocked by a fruity lemony touch, and it only gains from further exposure to notes that lend themeslves to it: rich spices, dirty grasses, opulent resins, sensuous musk. In a way if Cinnabar and Opium (roughly contemporaries) modernised the message of the balsamic oriental classic Youth Dew, Dioressence gave both a run for their money, being bolder like the Lauder predecessor, yet in a rather greener scale.
The intensity of the animalistic accord in Dioressence was boosted even further by the copious carnation-patchouli chord (much like in Jean Carles sexy Tabu), spiced even further with cinnamics (cinnamon notes) and given a glossy glamour with lots of natural jasmine. The greenery over the oriental-chypre basenotes is like the veneer of manners over the killer instinct. Still the Guy Robert treatment produced something that was totally French in style. You can't help but feel it's more tailored, more formal than any modern fragrance, perhaps what a power-woman of the early 1980s would wear to power-lunch, even indulging in some footie work under the table if she feels like it, but its wild undercurrent is almost foreshadowing the contemporary taste for niche.
Why Dioressence Changed...to the Worse
Alas the perfume after a brief career fell into the rabbit-hole of a teethering house (The Marcel Boussac Group bankrupted in 1978 and it was purchased by the Willot house, which also bankrupted in 1981). Not only had the vogue for big orientals been swung in a "cleaner", starchier direction in the meantime (Opium, Cinnabar, Giorgio), but the management hadn't really pushed the glam factor of Dior as much as Karl Lagerfeld had revolutionized, nay re-animated the house of Chanel (the effect in the mid-80s of that latter move was analogous to the miraculous push Tom Ford gave to Gucci in the late 90s; nothing sort of spectacular). Dior would need almost a whole decade to get its act together, bring out Poison (1985) and find its financial compass under the LVMH aegis. By then it was down to familiar LVMH accounting bean-counting and therefore marvels like Dior-Dior perfume and Dioressence were either axed (former) or given catastrophical face-lifts (latter). Same happened with the ill-fated, yet brilliant Dior masculine Jules, which had launched in those limbo years (1980 in fact).
Comparing Vintage vs.Modern Dioressence
I well recall the old formula of Dioressence, back when it was a mighty animalic-smelling oriental with moss in the base because it was alongside (vintage) Cabochard my mother's favorite perfume. She was neither particularly exuberant, not knowingly smouldering and rather inhibited, come to think of it. She was a real lady, through and through, and yet she loved Dioressence, le parfum barbare! (and her other choice isn't particularly blinkered either, is it?) There's really a dark id that is coming throuh perfume and allows us to role-play; what's more fun than that? The Non Blonde calls this Dior "Miss Dior's Casual Friday outfit" and I can see her point; it's letting your hair down, preferably for acts of passion to follow.
The modern version of Dioressence (at least since the early 2000s) has been thinned beyond recognition, the naturals completely substituted with synthetic replications, till my mother 's soul departed from the bottle, never to return. The new Dioressence on counters is a somewhat better chypre than recent memory, with a harsher mossy profile, a bit like a "cougar" on the prowl not noticing she's a bit too thin for her own good, all bones, no flesh. Still, an improvement over the catastrophic post-2005 and pre-2009 versions.
Dioressence first came out as a bath oil in 1969 (advertisements from 1973 bear testament to that) and then as a "real" perfume in the same year. Perfumer credited is Guy Robert, although Max Gavarry is also mentioned by Turin as implicated in the process. The newest version (introduced in 2010, reworked by Francois Demachy) is in the uniform Creations de Monsieur Dior bottles with the silver mock-string around the neck in white packaging, just like Diorissimo, Forever and Ever, Diorella and Dior's Eau Fraiche.
The Full Story of the Creation of Dioressence
[1] [2]Actually that's not quite true. Ambergris comes out the other end of the whale, not the mouth. Read Christopher Kemp's Floating Gold.
Notes for Dior Dioressence:
Aldehydes, Bergamot, Orange, Jasmine, Violet, Rosebud, Ylang ylang, Geranium, Cinnamon, Patchouli, Orris Root, Ambergris, Oakmoss, Benzoin, Musk, Styrax.
Related reading on Perfume Shrine: The Dior fragrance reviews Series
ad collage via jeanette-soartfulchallenges.blogspot.com, Dior fur via coutureallure.com
Dioressence: A Wild, Untamed Fragrance
The fragrance of Dioressence itself, in part the brief being a depart from Guy Robert's refined style, was the love affair of ambergris (a 100% natural essence at the time) with the original 1947 Miss Dior, a chypre animalic perfume, itself laced with the animal notes of leathery castoreum in the base, so the two elements fused into each other most compatibly. Ambergris is lightly salty and nutty-smelling, creating a lived-in aura, while leather notes are sharper and harsher, especially when coming from castoreum, an animal essence from beavers with an intense almost death-like stink. The two give a pungent note.
In Miss Dior this is politely glossed over by a powdery gardenia on top. The animalicistic eroticism is only perceptible in the drydown. In Dioressence the sexiness is felt from the very start, only briefly mocked by a fruity lemony touch, and it only gains from further exposure to notes that lend themeslves to it: rich spices, dirty grasses, opulent resins, sensuous musk. In a way if Cinnabar and Opium (roughly contemporaries) modernised the message of the balsamic oriental classic Youth Dew, Dioressence gave both a run for their money, being bolder like the Lauder predecessor, yet in a rather greener scale.
The intensity of the animalistic accord in Dioressence was boosted even further by the copious carnation-patchouli chord (much like in Jean Carles sexy Tabu), spiced even further with cinnamics (cinnamon notes) and given a glossy glamour with lots of natural jasmine. The greenery over the oriental-chypre basenotes is like the veneer of manners over the killer instinct. Still the Guy Robert treatment produced something that was totally French in style. You can't help but feel it's more tailored, more formal than any modern fragrance, perhaps what a power-woman of the early 1980s would wear to power-lunch, even indulging in some footie work under the table if she feels like it, but its wild undercurrent is almost foreshadowing the contemporary taste for niche.
Why Dioressence Changed...to the Worse
Alas the perfume after a brief career fell into the rabbit-hole of a teethering house (The Marcel Boussac Group bankrupted in 1978 and it was purchased by the Willot house, which also bankrupted in 1981). Not only had the vogue for big orientals been swung in a "cleaner", starchier direction in the meantime (Opium, Cinnabar, Giorgio), but the management hadn't really pushed the glam factor of Dior as much as Karl Lagerfeld had revolutionized, nay re-animated the house of Chanel (the effect in the mid-80s of that latter move was analogous to the miraculous push Tom Ford gave to Gucci in the late 90s; nothing sort of spectacular). Dior would need almost a whole decade to get its act together, bring out Poison (1985) and find its financial compass under the LVMH aegis. By then it was down to familiar LVMH accounting bean-counting and therefore marvels like Dior-Dior perfume and Dioressence were either axed (former) or given catastrophical face-lifts (latter). Same happened with the ill-fated, yet brilliant Dior masculine Jules, which had launched in those limbo years (1980 in fact).
Comparing Vintage vs.Modern Dioressence
I well recall the old formula of Dioressence, back when it was a mighty animalic-smelling oriental with moss in the base because it was alongside (vintage) Cabochard my mother's favorite perfume. She was neither particularly exuberant, not knowingly smouldering and rather inhibited, come to think of it. She was a real lady, through and through, and yet she loved Dioressence, le parfum barbare! (and her other choice isn't particularly blinkered either, is it?) There's really a dark id that is coming throuh perfume and allows us to role-play; what's more fun than that? The Non Blonde calls this Dior "Miss Dior's Casual Friday outfit" and I can see her point; it's letting your hair down, preferably for acts of passion to follow.
The modern version of Dioressence (at least since the early 2000s) has been thinned beyond recognition, the naturals completely substituted with synthetic replications, till my mother 's soul departed from the bottle, never to return. The new Dioressence on counters is a somewhat better chypre than recent memory, with a harsher mossy profile, a bit like a "cougar" on the prowl not noticing she's a bit too thin for her own good, all bones, no flesh. Still, an improvement over the catastrophic post-2005 and pre-2009 versions.
Dioressence first came out as a bath oil in 1969 (advertisements from 1973 bear testament to that) and then as a "real" perfume in the same year. Perfumer credited is Guy Robert, although Max Gavarry is also mentioned by Turin as implicated in the process. The newest version (introduced in 2010, reworked by Francois Demachy) is in the uniform Creations de Monsieur Dior bottles with the silver mock-string around the neck in white packaging, just like Diorissimo, Forever and Ever, Diorella and Dior's Eau Fraiche.
The Full Story of the Creation of Dioressence
In Emperor of Scent, author and scent critic Chandler Burr quotes Luca Turin: "The best Guy Robert story is this. The House of Dior started
making perfumes in the 1940s. Very small scale. The first two, of
which Diorama was one and Miss Dior the other, were made by Edmond Roudnitska, a Ukrainian émigré who'd studied with
Ernest Beaux in Saint Petersburg because Beaux was the perfumer
to the czars. So Dior approached Guy Robert-they invite him to dinner,
they're talking over the cheese course, no sterile meeting rooms,
this is a brief among gentlemen-and they said, 'We're doing a new
perfume we want to call Dioressence, for women, but we want it very animalic. The slogan will be le parfum barbare, so propose something
to us.' Oh boy. Guy can hardly wait. Of course he wants a Dior commission.
And the challenge of mixing the florals of the traditional Dior
fragrances into an animal scent (because this isn't just any animalic,
this is a Dior animalic, if you can imagine such a bizarre thing)
is just a bewitching challenge, who else would have the guts to
attempt joining those two. So he gets right to work, plunges in,
and he tries all sorts of things. And he's getting nowhere. Nothing's
working. He's frustrated, he doesn't like anything he's doing.
"In the middle of this, someone in the industry calls him,
and they say, 'There's a guy with a huge lump of ambergris for sale
in London-get up here and check it out for us.' Ambergris is the
whale equivalent of a fur ball, all the undigested crap they have
in their stomachs. The whale eats indigestible stuff, and every
once in a while it belches a pack of it back up[1]. It's mostly oily
stuff, so it floats, and ambergris isn't considered any good unless
it's floated around on the ocean for ten years or so. It starts
out white and the sun creates the odorant properties by photochemistry,
which means that it's become rancid, the molecules are breaking
up, and you get an incredibly complex olfactory result. So Guy gets
on a plane and flies up to see the dealer, and they bring out the
chunk of ambergris. It looks like black butter. This chunk was about
two feet square, thirty kilos or something. Huge. A brick like that
can power Chanel's ambergris needs for twenty years. This chunk
is worth a half million pounds.
"The way you test ambergris is to rub it with both hands and
then rub your hands together and smell them. It's a very peculiar smell, marine, sealike, slightly sweet, and ultrasmooth. So there
he is, he rubs his hands in this black oily mess and smells them,
and it's terrific ambergris. He says, Great, sold. He goes to the
bathroom to wash his hands 'cause he's got to get on an airplane.
He picks up some little sliver of dirty soap that's lying around
there and washes his hands. He leaves. He gets on the plane, and
he's sitting there, and that's when he happens to smell his hands.
The combination of the soap and ambergris has somehow created exactly
the animalic Dior he's been desperately looking for. But what the
hell does that soap smell like? He's got to have that goddamn piece
of soap. The second he lands in France, he sprints to a phone, his
heart pounding, and calls the dealer in England and says, 'Do exactly
as I say: go to your bathroom, take the piece of soap that's in
there, put it in an envelope, and mail it to me.' And the guy says,
'No problem.' And then he adds, 'By the way, that soap? You know,
it was perfumed with some Miss Dior knockoff.'
"So Guy put them together, and got the commission, and made,
literally, an animalic Dior. Dioressence was created from a cheap Miss Dior soap knockoff base, chypric, fruity aldehydic, plus a
giant cube of rancid whale vomit[2]. And it is one of the greatest
perfumes ever made."
[1] [2]Actually that's not quite true. Ambergris comes out the other end of the whale, not the mouth. Read Christopher Kemp's Floating Gold.
Aldehydes, Bergamot, Orange, Jasmine, Violet, Rosebud, Ylang ylang, Geranium, Cinnamon, Patchouli, Orris Root, Ambergris, Oakmoss, Benzoin, Musk, Styrax.
Related reading on Perfume Shrine: The Dior fragrance reviews Series
ad collage via jeanette-soartfulchallenges.blogspot.com, Dior fur via coutureallure.com
Wednesday, May 30, 2012
Rochas Madame Rochas: fragrance review
"Give him Madame Rochas. A few drops at a time."
~New Yorker magazine vintage ad 27 November 1965
Madame Rochas was the signature scent of my grandmother in her mature years and lovingly picked by my own mother as well, when my grandmother passed away. They were unconsciously true to the wise words of a vintage ad: "Rule: Your perfume should change as often as your mood. Exception: Madame Rochas." It does make for a glorious signature fragrance...I well remember smelling the perfume on both women as a little girl, thinking it smelled simply wonderful. And it still does, transporting me to an elegant vision of old money class, beautiful restraint, no vulgar displays of anything, be it flesh or wealth. But that's not to say she's not sexy or femme either. Another vintage ad puts it well: "In France romance is a national passion. So is Madame Rochas". And it is indeed very much a "perfume in the French style".
Like classical art, this Guy Robert scented creation always felt like it was simply striking the right proportions.
Character & Attitude: A Grande Dame
To describe Madame Rochas feels a bit like ornamenting that which needs no ornament. Much like my maternal grandmother, she is a Grande Dame, never an ingenue, girl-next-door, damsel in distress or soubrette. This might be the reason this 1960 creation fell somewhat out of favor commercially in the last 15-20 years when perfumery reached its apogee of fragrance creation ideals focused on naive youthfulness, immediate accessibility or plain out weirdness for the sensationalist/witty effect. Much like on cannot imagine the generation of CK One approaching their elders' vanities with anything but a dismissed "pffft", one cannot envision Madame Rochas on anyone under 30. Unless of course we're talking a perfumista who dabbles in decades past.
On the contrary Madame Rochas is in a way Lanvin's Arpège revisited for the 1960s and the new jet set emerging, a sort of Parisian Mod, Jackie Kennedy shops French designers before becoming First Lady. Madame Rochas is also interesting as a milestone in perfumer's Guy Robert opus in that it set the stage for his Hermes Calèche to follow the following year, Madame Rochas' drier twin sister; the latter would would influence the market for quite awhile.
The fragrance was created specifically under the commision of Hélène Rochas, the young wife of the Rochas house founder, for whom Femme de Rochas was also made when she went into wedlock. She was only 30 when the perfume was officially issued, showing just how far and wide tastes in what is considered youthful have shifted.
Scent Description
The aldehydes open on a dewy but sunny April morning: Hyacinth, lemon and neroli are shining with green-waxy-lemony shades before an indeterminate floral heart opens with woody tonalities (tuberose, rose, narcissus and jasmine). The propelling provided by the muskier, mossier, lightly powdered (never talc-like) base extends the florals and woods on for hours. The complexity of the formula and the intricate structuring of its accords accounts for its radiance and tenacity.
The powdery orris feel is underscored by the fresh and at the same time musty vetiver; but the proportion is such that the end result doesn't smell musty at all.
This bright, vivacious, graceful bouquet gains subtly soapy nuances of corpulent lily of the valley with only a slight hint of floral sweetness; its delicious bitterness, almost chypré, lurking beneath the green flowers is its hallmark of elegance. Inedible, smelling like proper perfume with a surprising warmth, ambery-like, like honeycomb smelled at a distance, Madame Rochas is an aldehydic floral perfume in the grand manner and thanks to its perfect harmony, lack of uprightness and full on humanity it is among the most legible in this demanding genre as well, not to mention romantic and sensuous too.
If you thought you couldn't "do" aldehydic fragrances because you can't succumb to the most famous example Chanel No.5, maybe Madame Rochas will do the trick. It sums up good taste.
Notes for Madame Rochas:
Top: aldehydes, bergamot, lemon and neroli
Middle: jasmine, rose, tuberose, lily-of-the-valley, orris root, ylang-ylang, violet and narcissus
Base: sandalwood, vetiver, musk, cedar, oakmoss and tonka bean.
Fragrance Editions: Vintage vs. Modern & Bottle Design
The original Madame Rochas was introduced in 1960 and was re-issued 1982 in its second edition, re-orchestrated by Jean Luis Sieuzac. The original bottle design represents a replica of a 18th century bottle which was in the collection of Helene Rochas herself. The box is printed like a tapestry.
The new edition design was adapted by Pierre Dinand and is available in 30, 50 and 100 ml of eau de toilette. The box is white with gold lettering.
The new version of Madame Rochas is somewhat lighter than I recall and less spicy- powdery, emphasizing green floral notes on the expense of balmy, woody ones. But it's still classy and collected at all times and a bargain to get.
Who is it for?
I would recommend this for all Calèche, Climat de Lancome, YSL Y, Guerlain Chamade and even Dioressence lovers. Climat is much more powdery and immediately aldehydic, Y is more chypre and Chamade relies more on hyacinths. Dioressence starts with sweeter notes in the openening and is much more animalic-smelling in the deeper notes, especially in the vintage orientalised verion. Madame Rochas could also be a great fit if you like things like Rive Gauche by YSL, Paco Rabanne Calandre, Revillon Detchema or Tauer's Tableau de Parfums Miriam.
~New Yorker magazine vintage ad 27 November 1965
Madame Rochas was the signature scent of my grandmother in her mature years and lovingly picked by my own mother as well, when my grandmother passed away. They were unconsciously true to the wise words of a vintage ad: "Rule: Your perfume should change as often as your mood. Exception: Madame Rochas." It does make for a glorious signature fragrance...I well remember smelling the perfume on both women as a little girl, thinking it smelled simply wonderful. And it still does, transporting me to an elegant vision of old money class, beautiful restraint, no vulgar displays of anything, be it flesh or wealth. But that's not to say she's not sexy or femme either. Another vintage ad puts it well: "In France romance is a national passion. So is Madame Rochas". And it is indeed very much a "perfume in the French style".
Like classical art, this Guy Robert scented creation always felt like it was simply striking the right proportions.
Character & Attitude: A Grande Dame
To describe Madame Rochas feels a bit like ornamenting that which needs no ornament. Much like my maternal grandmother, she is a Grande Dame, never an ingenue, girl-next-door, damsel in distress or soubrette. This might be the reason this 1960 creation fell somewhat out of favor commercially in the last 15-20 years when perfumery reached its apogee of fragrance creation ideals focused on naive youthfulness, immediate accessibility or plain out weirdness for the sensationalist/witty effect. Much like on cannot imagine the generation of CK One approaching their elders' vanities with anything but a dismissed "pffft", one cannot envision Madame Rochas on anyone under 30. Unless of course we're talking a perfumista who dabbles in decades past.
On the contrary Madame Rochas is in a way Lanvin's Arpège revisited for the 1960s and the new jet set emerging, a sort of Parisian Mod, Jackie Kennedy shops French designers before becoming First Lady. Madame Rochas is also interesting as a milestone in perfumer's Guy Robert opus in that it set the stage for his Hermes Calèche to follow the following year, Madame Rochas' drier twin sister; the latter would would influence the market for quite awhile.
The fragrance was created specifically under the commision of Hélène Rochas, the young wife of the Rochas house founder, for whom Femme de Rochas was also made when she went into wedlock. She was only 30 when the perfume was officially issued, showing just how far and wide tastes in what is considered youthful have shifted.
Scent Description
The aldehydes open on a dewy but sunny April morning: Hyacinth, lemon and neroli are shining with green-waxy-lemony shades before an indeterminate floral heart opens with woody tonalities (tuberose, rose, narcissus and jasmine). The propelling provided by the muskier, mossier, lightly powdered (never talc-like) base extends the florals and woods on for hours. The complexity of the formula and the intricate structuring of its accords accounts for its radiance and tenacity.
The powdery orris feel is underscored by the fresh and at the same time musty vetiver; but the proportion is such that the end result doesn't smell musty at all.
This bright, vivacious, graceful bouquet gains subtly soapy nuances of corpulent lily of the valley with only a slight hint of floral sweetness; its delicious bitterness, almost chypré, lurking beneath the green flowers is its hallmark of elegance. Inedible, smelling like proper perfume with a surprising warmth, ambery-like, like honeycomb smelled at a distance, Madame Rochas is an aldehydic floral perfume in the grand manner and thanks to its perfect harmony, lack of uprightness and full on humanity it is among the most legible in this demanding genre as well, not to mention romantic and sensuous too.
If you thought you couldn't "do" aldehydic fragrances because you can't succumb to the most famous example Chanel No.5, maybe Madame Rochas will do the trick. It sums up good taste.
Notes for Madame Rochas:
Top: aldehydes, bergamot, lemon and neroli
Middle: jasmine, rose, tuberose, lily-of-the-valley, orris root, ylang-ylang, violet and narcissus
Base: sandalwood, vetiver, musk, cedar, oakmoss and tonka bean.
Fragrance Editions: Vintage vs. Modern & Bottle Design
The original Madame Rochas was introduced in 1960 and was re-issued 1982 in its second edition, re-orchestrated by Jean Luis Sieuzac. The original bottle design represents a replica of a 18th century bottle which was in the collection of Helene Rochas herself. The box is printed like a tapestry.
The new edition design was adapted by Pierre Dinand and is available in 30, 50 and 100 ml of eau de toilette. The box is white with gold lettering.
The new version of Madame Rochas is somewhat lighter than I recall and less spicy- powdery, emphasizing green floral notes on the expense of balmy, woody ones. But it's still classy and collected at all times and a bargain to get.
Who is it for?
I would recommend this for all Calèche, Climat de Lancome, YSL Y, Guerlain Chamade and even Dioressence lovers. Climat is much more powdery and immediately aldehydic, Y is more chypre and Chamade relies more on hyacinths. Dioressence starts with sweeter notes in the openening and is much more animalic-smelling in the deeper notes, especially in the vintage orientalised verion. Madame Rochas could also be a great fit if you like things like Rive Gauche by YSL, Paco Rabanne Calandre, Revillon Detchema or Tauer's Tableau de Parfums Miriam.
Guy Robert: Loving Tribute to a Legendary Perfumer
The creator of masterpieces Madame Rochas, Amouage Gold & Gold for Men, Dioressence, Calèche and the original 1955 Doblis by Hermès is no more: Perfumer Guy Robert died on Monday 28th May. His mantra: Un parfum doit avant tout sent bon (a perfume should first and foremost smell good).
One small anecdote (and some perfume quotes I will address below) shows us how historical memory is fleeting when it comes to perfumes and perfumers' work. Despite Robert's amazing and historically important work, not everything is recorded and much of what passed behind closed doors has escaped the written word. Like Robert's unknown perfume called Chouda...
According to Luca Turin, as quoted by Chandler Burr: "I got to know Guy Robert particularly well. He's a professional-level jazz pianist, writes fiction, is a terrific cook. You should hear him talking about olive oil. He knows the only place to get it. He took me to one of the best restaurants I've ever been to, Le Bistro le Paradou, west of Aix. He's in his seventies now. He's been in the business a long time, has bad relations with Jean Amic, the old head of Givaudan. It's a small world, Grasse. Everyone's screwed everyone else at some point, literally and figuratively."
Guy Robert's wit and realism were unparalleled. He said of Piguet's Bandit scent: "A beautiful, but brutal perfume." And on Ernest Daltroff of Caron, lamenting current state of affairs in perfumery: "Today, when copycats make money, and perfumers are discouraged by lawyers and toxicologists from using some of nature's most fascinating products, Daltroff's creations are a reminder of what true perfumery is all about. He devoted his unique taste and sense of balance to a quest for fragrance perfection." [quotes via Michael Edwards, Perfume Legends]
And on composing: “We are like painters: some use simple colors, others prefer sophisticated ones. It's the result that matters” [quote Guy Robert, Les Sens du Parfum]
Guy Robert belongs to a clan of perfumers as is typical with classic French noses; nephew of Henri Robert, the second perfumer after Beaux at Chanel and famously the nose behind Coty's Muguet de Bois, Chanel pour Monsieur, Chanel No. 19 and Cristalle, while Guy's own son is François Robert who worked on Lanvin Vetyver and the newer Les Parfums de Rosine scents. Between 1949 and his death he worked for six different fragrance houses (Hermès, Rochas, Dior, Gucci, Amouage and The Pink Room), learning perfumery, creating perfume and then supervising groups of perfumers.
In his work he served internatioal clients but also involved in the training of new perfumers. Guy Robert considered 'Amouage Gold' a symphony and the crowning glory of his career.
Robert was not without author's credentials either: His Les Sens du Parfum (where he lists some of his favorite perfumes, among them the original Quelques Fleurs, Coty's Cordon Vert alongside Coty's Chypre, Ambre Antique, Emeraude, L'Origan and devotes space to the opus of Germaine Cellier) is considered a handbook into appreciating the art of perfumes, while he served as President of La Société Française des Parfumeurs.
He will be sorely missed. Our condolences to his family.
Guy Robert's known perfume oeuvre comprises, apart from scented products for the body, perfumers' bases and cosmetics:
One small anecdote (and some perfume quotes I will address below) shows us how historical memory is fleeting when it comes to perfumes and perfumers' work. Despite Robert's amazing and historically important work, not everything is recorded and much of what passed behind closed doors has escaped the written word. Like Robert's unknown perfume called Chouda...
Guy Leyssène, who met Madame Grès at a dinner part two years prior to Cabochard's launch, suggested that
she should issue a perfume because it was a profitable enterprise which all
the other fashion designers of the times had embarked on. The perfume that was in works was a composition by legendary perfumer Guy Robert, called Chouda.
Then young Robert ~under the guidance of mentor Andrée Castanié, then
editor of L'Officiel de la Mode et de la Couture~ had been introduced
to Mme Grès in 1956. But it took a trip to India, the land of exoticism,
which prompted Alix Grès to further her plans on the house’s fragrance.
The visit had begun innocuously, invited by the Ford Foundation to
assess Indian brocades. It was there that Alix Grès discovered water
hyacinth: a flower she became enraptured with. It has a sweet odour,
rich like tuberose, yet with a fresher top and slightly warmer. The
experimentation of Guy Robert yeilded rich fruits: Alix loved it,
however Chouda was almost exclusively used by her (only five litres of Chouda were
ever made) as it was too flowery for the tastes of the 50s which veered
towards classic chypres. She launched another fragrance under the
pressure of public input: the mod of what was to become Cabochard, made by Bernand Chant of IFF, was received much more favourably and thus the plan to push Chouda was
ultimately abandoned, although the two were issued almost
simultaneously in 1959. It comes as a surprise that there were focus
groups even back then, but it is a fact that puts things into
perspective: public reception is (and will always be) the moniker of how
things work in a sector that, although hinges on art, is also largely a
business.
According to Luca Turin, as quoted by Chandler Burr: "I got to know Guy Robert particularly well. He's a professional-level jazz pianist, writes fiction, is a terrific cook. You should hear him talking about olive oil. He knows the only place to get it. He took me to one of the best restaurants I've ever been to, Le Bistro le Paradou, west of Aix. He's in his seventies now. He's been in the business a long time, has bad relations with Jean Amic, the old head of Givaudan. It's a small world, Grasse. Everyone's screwed everyone else at some point, literally and figuratively."
Guy Robert's wit and realism were unparalleled. He said of Piguet's Bandit scent: "A beautiful, but brutal perfume." And on Ernest Daltroff of Caron, lamenting current state of affairs in perfumery: "Today, when copycats make money, and perfumers are discouraged by lawyers and toxicologists from using some of nature's most fascinating products, Daltroff's creations are a reminder of what true perfumery is all about. He devoted his unique taste and sense of balance to a quest for fragrance perfection." [quotes via Michael Edwards, Perfume Legends]
And on composing: “We are like painters: some use simple colors, others prefer sophisticated ones. It's the result that matters” [quote Guy Robert, Les Sens du Parfum]
Guy Robert belongs to a clan of perfumers as is typical with classic French noses; nephew of Henri Robert, the second perfumer after Beaux at Chanel and famously the nose behind Coty's Muguet de Bois, Chanel pour Monsieur, Chanel No. 19 and Cristalle, while Guy's own son is François Robert who worked on Lanvin Vetyver and the newer Les Parfums de Rosine scents. Between 1949 and his death he worked for six different fragrance houses (Hermès, Rochas, Dior, Gucci, Amouage and The Pink Room), learning perfumery, creating perfume and then supervising groups of perfumers.
In 1961, at the prompting of Jean-René Guerrand (son-in-law of Émile
Hermès and founder of the fragrances branch), the perfumer Guy Robert composed Calèche, a masterpiece which instantly transformed Hermès into one
of the major players of modern perfumery. Nine years later, moreover, he
would be the author of Équipage, the House's first fragrance for men and arguably one of the most graceful to this day. But in the decades of the 1950s, 1960s, 1970s and 1980s he also composed numerous perfumers' bases and accords which have been incorporated into ready-made fragrances credited to other perfumers. He also composed The Pink Room perfume Parfum No.1 pour toi: "The Pink Room Parfum Number 1 was then created with the wonderful Guy Robert as mentor, guide and friend. It
was an eidetic experience of the textures, colours and ambience of The
Pink room. Having produced Number 1, it became clear to Sarah where her
senses were leading her, in a very niche and special way." [quote: Sarah Barton-King]
In his work he served internatioal clients but also involved in the training of new perfumers. Guy Robert considered 'Amouage Gold' a symphony and the crowning glory of his career.
Robert was not without author's credentials either: His Les Sens du Parfum (where he lists some of his favorite perfumes, among them the original Quelques Fleurs, Coty's Cordon Vert alongside Coty's Chypre, Ambre Antique, Emeraude, L'Origan and devotes space to the opus of Germaine Cellier) is considered a handbook into appreciating the art of perfumes, while he served as President of La Société Française des Parfumeurs.
He will be sorely missed. Our condolences to his family.
Guy Robert's known perfume oeuvre comprises, apart from scented products for the body, perfumers' bases and cosmetics:
- Hermès, Doblis (original) (1955)
- Rochas, Madame Rochas (1960)
- Hermès, Calèche (1961)
- Christian Dior Dioressence (1969)
- Rochas, Monsieur Rochas (1969)
- Hermés, Équipage (1970)
- Gucci, Gucci No. 1 (1974)
- Gucci pour Homme (1976)
- Amouage, Amouage Gold (1983)
- Amouage, Amouage Gold Men (1983)
- The Pink Room parfum No.1 (1997)
- vintage ad via vintageperfumevault.com, photo of Guy Robert via mangalorean
Untitled Series: Fragrance Detection & Appreciation of Pure Juice
Chandler Burr, the curator of The Department of Olfactory Art at New
York's Museum of Arts and Design, the scent editor for GQ magazine and the former scent critic for The New York Times, is creating a
project on OpenSky
that’s never been done before. He’s bringing scent to life online. It’s called the Untitled Series.
On the 1st of every month Chandler will choose a perfume
that’s already on the market – some famous and some from niche
collections. From this scent, he will
remove all marketing -- no bottle, no package, no brand, no name and will put the
scent in a 50ml lab bottle – allowing you to
experience these scent works as scent and nothing else. He will give shoppers
only the guidance of his carefully chosen words to understand each and
determine if the fragrance is right for them.
His goal is to both enable and encourage shoppers to rethink perfume as
a work of art, free from all visual cues and marketing techniques. Scents include those
from the late 19th century to last week, in all styles and all
by the greatest scent artists in the world.
There
will be only 100 bottles available in the series, this month (the amount might slightly vary from month to month). The first
fragrance called S01E01 (Season
One Episode One) and will launch this Friday, June 1st on
OpenSky and the identity of
the scent as well as more about the artist who created it will be revealed to
shoppers on the last day of June. The
series will continue with a new launch on the first of every month and a
subsequent reveal on the last day of each month.
pic via marthastewart.com
pic via marthastewart.com
Monday, May 28, 2012
Perfumer's Base: Animalis by Synarome
Largely unknown and thought of as coinnoisseur stuff, perfumers bases are simply ready-made "chords" of complimentary ingredients which create a unison effect for use when composing perfumes. It both aids with time constraints and it saves the trouble of having to reinvent a desired but tried& tested effect all over again, so the perfumer can concentrate on achieving something beyond the been there, done that. Legendary female perfumer Germaine Cellier, for reasons pertaining to both syllogisms, opted to compose with lots of perfumers' bases, resulting in a contemporary difficulty to replicate her formulae, as many of the ingredients for those bases or the bases themselves are now defunct or substituted. Nevertheless, some bases, such as the famous Mousse de Saxe base for Caron, the succulent peach base Persicol and the naughty Animalis by Synarome, have created their own history and have survived.
Perfume molecule producing company Synarome was founded in 1926 by Hubert Fraysse (of the prolific and renowned Fraysse clan) who created the famous speciality Ambrarome Absolu (a densely animalic chord reminiscent of natural ambergris). Nactis acquired Synarome in 2006, creating Nactis Synarome, who continue to provide fragrance compound specialties.
Synarome's most infamous classic "perfumer's base" though is Animalis, from which the term "animalic fragrances" has sprung; a feral, thick ambery yellow liquid, mostly insoluble in water but easily soluble in alcohol, with prominent civet and castoreum (both traditionally animal-derived products), a cluster of musks and with costus root, a plant essence that has an uncanny resemblence to a mix of unwashed human hair, goat smell and dirty socks. The presence of phenolic-smelling, para cresol molecules also indicates a tannery tar & barnyard "stink". And yet he effect of the finished accord is envelopingly fur-like, powdery musky, warm, powerful, rich, decadent and yes, very animalic-smelling.
To get a feel for the classic accord, Animalis is featured in vintage Piguet's Visa, in all its "dirty" glory, created by Jean Carles (the man responsible for the skank-fest that is the classic Tabu, "un parfum de puta", a whore's brew). I also believe that Weil's Zibeline (a characteristic "parfum fourrure") features some of it in its core. Other vintages featuring lots of it is the rare Soft Youth Dew, one of two declinations of the classic Lauder Youth Dew in the 1970s (the other declination, the Intense Youth Dew was actually marketed later as... Cinnabar!, as per Octavian) and the less rare Mais Oui by Bourjois. It's also part of the mysterious urinous & musky allure of Kouros by Yves Saint Laurent (which indeed features a healthy dose of costus under phenyl acetate paracresol). But as much as it was favored during the classic era of perfumery, the traditional Animalis base fell out of favor in the middle of the 1980s.
Perfumery restrictions, which have axed the use of costus and eradicated the use of real animal ingredients, required a recalibration of the actual formula of Animalis, now allowed to be featured in up to 4% of the compound for perfume making. The base's stability has allowed it to not only be used in fine fragrance but also can be featured in shampoo, deodorant and creams. Modern Animalis perfume base includes 10-undecanal, linalool, alpha-pinene, β-Caryophyllene, limonene, heaps of cedrol and cedrene alpha. Mysteriously enough the final result ends up smelling animalic (smelling the fragrances containing it confirms this). The modern Animalis, animalic-smelling but without animal-derived ingredients, is featured in Vierge et Toreros by Etat Libre d'Orange and possibly the masculine Twill Rose by Parfums de Rosine.
For accuracy's sake, Synarome currently has not one but two distinct Animalis bases in their arsenal (the breakdown of ingredients above pertains to the first one): Animalis 1745-03 (which is Tonkin musk smelling, which is to say very warm, musky with a leathery nuance) and Animalis 5853 with woody & sensuous notes. The latest version of the former is Animalis 1745-03 TEC.
International Flavors & Fragrances (IFF) offers a similar competitive product, called Cherval, but that one is less cedary and even more powerful.
It's interesting to note that Animalis has not only been used in oriental perfumes, as would be expected them being the quintessential sensuous, langoruous fragrances evoking sexy thoughts, but also in citrus fragrances to exalt their fresh notes by way of contrast.
photo by Willy Ronis 1970 Nu au tricot raye
Perfume molecule producing company Synarome was founded in 1926 by Hubert Fraysse (of the prolific and renowned Fraysse clan) who created the famous speciality Ambrarome Absolu (a densely animalic chord reminiscent of natural ambergris). Nactis acquired Synarome in 2006, creating Nactis Synarome, who continue to provide fragrance compound specialties.
Synarome's most infamous classic "perfumer's base" though is Animalis, from which the term "animalic fragrances" has sprung; a feral, thick ambery yellow liquid, mostly insoluble in water but easily soluble in alcohol, with prominent civet and castoreum (both traditionally animal-derived products), a cluster of musks and with costus root, a plant essence that has an uncanny resemblence to a mix of unwashed human hair, goat smell and dirty socks. The presence of phenolic-smelling, para cresol molecules also indicates a tannery tar & barnyard "stink". And yet he effect of the finished accord is envelopingly fur-like, powdery musky, warm, powerful, rich, decadent and yes, very animalic-smelling.
To get a feel for the classic accord, Animalis is featured in vintage Piguet's Visa, in all its "dirty" glory, created by Jean Carles (the man responsible for the skank-fest that is the classic Tabu, "un parfum de puta", a whore's brew). I also believe that Weil's Zibeline (a characteristic "parfum fourrure") features some of it in its core. Other vintages featuring lots of it is the rare Soft Youth Dew, one of two declinations of the classic Lauder Youth Dew in the 1970s (the other declination, the Intense Youth Dew was actually marketed later as... Cinnabar!, as per Octavian) and the less rare Mais Oui by Bourjois. It's also part of the mysterious urinous & musky allure of Kouros by Yves Saint Laurent (which indeed features a healthy dose of costus under phenyl acetate paracresol). But as much as it was favored during the classic era of perfumery, the traditional Animalis base fell out of favor in the middle of the 1980s.
Perfumery restrictions, which have axed the use of costus and eradicated the use of real animal ingredients, required a recalibration of the actual formula of Animalis, now allowed to be featured in up to 4% of the compound for perfume making. The base's stability has allowed it to not only be used in fine fragrance but also can be featured in shampoo, deodorant and creams. Modern Animalis perfume base includes 10-undecanal, linalool, alpha-pinene, β-Caryophyllene, limonene, heaps of cedrol and cedrene alpha. Mysteriously enough the final result ends up smelling animalic (smelling the fragrances containing it confirms this). The modern Animalis, animalic-smelling but without animal-derived ingredients, is featured in Vierge et Toreros by Etat Libre d'Orange and possibly the masculine Twill Rose by Parfums de Rosine.
For accuracy's sake, Synarome currently has not one but two distinct Animalis bases in their arsenal (the breakdown of ingredients above pertains to the first one): Animalis 1745-03 (which is Tonkin musk smelling, which is to say very warm, musky with a leathery nuance) and Animalis 5853 with woody & sensuous notes. The latest version of the former is Animalis 1745-03 TEC.
International Flavors & Fragrances (IFF) offers a similar competitive product, called Cherval, but that one is less cedary and even more powerful.
It's interesting to note that Animalis has not only been used in oriental perfumes, as would be expected them being the quintessential sensuous, langoruous fragrances evoking sexy thoughts, but also in citrus fragrances to exalt their fresh notes by way of contrast.
photo by Willy Ronis 1970 Nu au tricot raye
Sunday, May 27, 2012
Dior La Collection Privee Oud Ispahan: new fragrance
Dior took siege of the oud bandwagon it seems: Besides their established Leather Oud, they're issuing a second "oud" fragrance in their Collection Privee line-up, this time combinging two exotic references in one in its name: Oud Ispahan.
The oud craze has taken almost every single perfume house on the planet vying for a perfume with the exotic-sounding prized Eastern material in the name to the point of boring perfume fanatics to tears. Largely this is just a trend that will eventually pass, relying on brain manipulation: mention a posh, exotic sounding material (oud/aoudh/agarwood) and let the audience dream about something different than what actually goes into the bottles. But we can't blame companies for wanting to produce what has proven successful commercially last time...can we?
Not only oud, not only Damascus Rose, but also amber, all rolled into one this time. Mysterious, grown-up hippy for women (and men, the fragrance is presented as a unisex offering) who want to smell sophisticated and orientalised, exotic and fascinating, Oud Ispahan is a fragrance release that will create some talk.
Of course the more seasoned perfumephiles among us will find that oud and rose is a classic combination that has been already explored, but Dior rather aims at consolidating a seeming Arabian authenticity than presenting a novel accord.
According to the official blurb, the notes are varied: “Oud Ispahan recreates Mr. Dior’s dreams of the Orient* through a striking Rose-Oud-Amber accord. Created by Dior Perfumer-Creator Francois Demachy, this universal scent features top notes of Labdanum Absolute, middle notes of Patchouli Essence from Indonesia and bottom notes of Oud Essence from Laos, Rose Essence from Turkey and Sandalwood Essence from New-Caledonia for a warm, spicy reinterpretation of Eastern locales.” According to perfumer Demachy it's "an immediate impression, an instant local snapshot of the Orient"
There's a bit of discrepancy here which I'd love to point out for our readers, just for history's sake: Christian Dior has been known to say, "As for the bazaars of Trebizond, on entering I felt as though I was heading into Ali Baba's magical cave." Trebizond, to be factual, is actually on the border of the Caucasus region and the Black Sea and bears the heritage of the Byzantine empire and its Greek populaces, and has nothing to do with what is commonly referenced as "Arabia", but let's allow this lumping of the Middle East into one exotic amalgam continue for Western tastes... The fragrance might prove to be spectacular regardless, so historical consideration might end up meaning nothing.
Oud Ispahan is going to be released in summer 2012 through Dior boutiques worldwide and will be available from 28th May in Selfridges Maison des Parfums on Oxford Street, London.
125ml of Dior's Oud Ispahan will set you back 125GBP, 250ml of juice go for 185GBP and 450ml cost 285GBP.
The oud craze has taken almost every single perfume house on the planet vying for a perfume with the exotic-sounding prized Eastern material in the name to the point of boring perfume fanatics to tears. Largely this is just a trend that will eventually pass, relying on brain manipulation: mention a posh, exotic sounding material (oud/aoudh/agarwood) and let the audience dream about something different than what actually goes into the bottles. But we can't blame companies for wanting to produce what has proven successful commercially last time...can we?
Not only oud, not only Damascus Rose, but also amber, all rolled into one this time. Mysterious, grown-up hippy for women (and men, the fragrance is presented as a unisex offering) who want to smell sophisticated and orientalised, exotic and fascinating, Oud Ispahan is a fragrance release that will create some talk.
Of course the more seasoned perfumephiles among us will find that oud and rose is a classic combination that has been already explored, but Dior rather aims at consolidating a seeming Arabian authenticity than presenting a novel accord.
According to the official blurb, the notes are varied: “Oud Ispahan recreates Mr. Dior’s dreams of the Orient* through a striking Rose-Oud-Amber accord. Created by Dior Perfumer-Creator Francois Demachy, this universal scent features top notes of Labdanum Absolute, middle notes of Patchouli Essence from Indonesia and bottom notes of Oud Essence from Laos, Rose Essence from Turkey and Sandalwood Essence from New-Caledonia for a warm, spicy reinterpretation of Eastern locales.” According to perfumer Demachy it's "an immediate impression, an instant local snapshot of the Orient"
There's a bit of discrepancy here which I'd love to point out for our readers, just for history's sake: Christian Dior has been known to say, "As for the bazaars of Trebizond, on entering I felt as though I was heading into Ali Baba's magical cave." Trebizond, to be factual, is actually on the border of the Caucasus region and the Black Sea and bears the heritage of the Byzantine empire and its Greek populaces, and has nothing to do with what is commonly referenced as "Arabia", but let's allow this lumping of the Middle East into one exotic amalgam continue for Western tastes... The fragrance might prove to be spectacular regardless, so historical consideration might end up meaning nothing.
Oud Ispahan is going to be released in summer 2012 through Dior boutiques worldwide and will be available from 28th May in Selfridges Maison des Parfums on Oxford Street, London.
125ml of Dior's Oud Ispahan will set you back 125GBP, 250ml of juice go for 185GBP and 450ml cost 285GBP.
Friday, May 25, 2012
Perfume Term: Animalic Notes, the Skanky Smell of Sexy
Frequenting perfume discussion communities and reading reviews online you often come across the term "animalic". Though its evocation is that of...animal, obviously, its significance is more layered, less simple, as we will explore.
Technically the term isn't even in the dictionary, or at the very least it is defined as "of or concerning animals". Yet the full story isn't restricted to that. Simply put an animalic perfume might do two things: 1)contain animal-derived products, i.e. raw materials directly harvested from animal sources or 2) evoke the animal in you, i.e. producing that "animalic growl" we associate with...well, you know.
I am going to explain both in detail, just let it be said in passing that the quoted phrase above was first used by (sadly) long-defunct blogger Cognoscenti back when she described scent in a visceral, highly imaginative way, both on her blog and on MakeupAlley. From then on, it caught on with most perfume reviewers online to the point it's become a foregone conclusion to almost hear the sound before reading the words.
But the etymology of "animalic" in perfumery has more to do with perfume molecule producing company Synarome's "perfumer's base" (i.e.a ready-made chord of complimentary ingredients for use when composing perfumes) called Animalis; a feral, thick mixture with prominent civet and castoreum (both traditionally animal-derived products), a claster of musks and costus root (To get an idea, this base is featured in both vintage Piguet Visa and in Vierge et Toreros by Etat Libre d'Orange and possibly Twill Rose by Parfums de Rosine). Actually, for accuracy's sake, Synarome has not one but two Animalis bases in their arsenal: Animalis 1745-03 (which is Tonkin musk like, very musky) and Animalis 5853 with woody and sensuous notes.
The first explanation of animalic refering to animal-derived ingredients is rather a fantasy than a fact nowadays nevertheless, since most companies ~major and niche, high-end and lower-end~ have stopped using these ingredients, either due to ethical reasons for the safe-keeping of the animals, or due to the high costs associated, or due to legislation forbidding the use of certain of them (for instance owning ambergris is considered illegal in certain countries).
Traditionally animal harvested ingredients included fecal and perineum region gland essences from the Tibetan deer musk (Tonquin musk), civet (from the civet cat Civettictis civeta, technically not a cat at all), castoreum (from beavers) and ambergris (from the sperm whale). Of those four, only ambergris can be said not to hurt, irritate or threaten the animal in any way, as it is naturally excreted by the whale and found floating in the ocean. You can consult the links for more info on each and every one of those ingredients.
The reason such essences were used for centuries is because they instilled a warmth that morphed other ingredients into greatness (this is especially true of civet which lets floral essences "bloom" on the skin; see the classic Tabu which uses civet to reinforce the carnality call of jasmine, carnation & patchouli and was actively briefed as un parfum de puta to its perfumer Jean Carles!). Or they acted as fixatives, i.e. prolonging the duration of the aromatic components enough so that they do not evaporate as quickly (for instance the musk base in the traditional Eau de Cologne was meant to provide a little bit of anchoring to the fleeting hesperidic top notes and the herbal heart).
They were also useful in producing certain "notes", for instance castoreum was often used as a "leather scent note" in leather perfumes. Makes sense as real urine (alongside cow dung and other animal essences) were traditionally used to treat hides in tanneries, lending hides a distinctly animalic scent which needed further "masking" with flowers. Did I just spoil your luxe fantasies? Sorry....
A good example where the leathery scent is clearly "animalic" -as in sweaty, horsey hide- is Paco Rabanne's La Nuit. A subtler example where the musky note recalls circus animals droppings amidst the sawdust smelled from afar is Dzing! by L'Artisan Perfumeur.And yet, these are fabulous perfumes, polarising yes, but with a strange pull to them.
These animalistic notes can also be provocative as hell; see Kiehl's Original Musk, Musc Ravageur by Editions de Parfums F.Malle , the intensely animal-like Ajmal Musk Gazelle or the undulating between polite society & barnyard tryst L'Air de Rien by Miller Harris. The effect? Same as in 1950s and 1960s trend of wearing leopard or cheetah-printed coats and accessories; there's something dangerous, wild, untamed about the person sporting such an item, be it fashions or perfume.
But animal-derived ingredients can expand (and indeed they have in many artisanal lines today) into more esoteric things than just musky smells, like "African stone" (dried excrement from hyrax, a small rodent, like in Lord Jester's Dionysus) or choya nak (essence from toasted sea-shells, such as in Fairchild by natural perfumer Anya mcCoy of Anya's Garden). The olfactory effects rendered by these innovative, non-classical essences can be surprising and very pleasing: Although initially sounding strange, they manage to evoke the intimacy and warmth of living things. Which is the whole point of "animalic" in the first place, isn't it.
Even indolic perfume notes or some varieties of synthesized musk fragrances (containing none of the natural deer musk) can fall into the umbrella of "animalic" should they be given a proper context to shine. Cumin can smell intimate like sweat if it's treated in a rich composition with spices. Costus root can be reminiscent of unwashed hair, in more intimate places than just head, as in vintage Fille d'Eve by Nina Ricci. Cassie can come across as womanly, ripe for the plucking. The mastery lies in the perfumer knowning what he/she's after.
The second explanation of the term "animalic" is perhaps more tortured, possibly the most elusive. How does one define what "brings out the animal", or maybe the anima -if we're to use Jungian terms- in you? Surely attraction, arousal, excitement of the senses is a highly individual thing. And why has this been tied to "dirty" smells, as in smells pertaining to the armpit, the vulva, the penis, the anus, the urethra and the region therein? As Jean Paul Guerlain, master perfumer at Guerlain perfume, used to say about his perfumes, they were made to subtly evoke his mistress's more intimate regions and that involved all three holes. Of course older Guerlains, before the times of Jean Paul, can be naughty in a more discreet way; Mouchoir de Monsieur or Voilette de Madame hide a polite civet note in there.
What is it about our nether regions that is so olfactorily attractive, as if we were dogs sniffing each other in the butt while exchanging social hellos?
Animalic is largely a subjective term in this sense pertaining to perfume (no one's crotch smells exactly the same as the person's next to them), especially since perfume is conceived and traditionally used as an adornment that should elevate us over our basest instincts; a sort of sophistication and refinement that differentiates man from beast. This is an interesting dichotomy and at the same time an irony. Some of the most revered and masterful fragrances are indeed comprised from base smells, smells of the lower instincts. But I wonder, how is man able to elevate himself over the animal if beforehand he doesn't embrace the animal in him and rejoice in its constituents?
Apparently when speaking about animalic perfumes there are a few parameters peeking through as a constant. An animalic scent should be warm, rich, creating an aura of lived-in things (this is in part the allure of "skin scents"), maybe a tad pungent, but overall giving off sexiness; sexiness in the sense of actually making you think about sex, not just media-broadcasted images of what we should consider sexy (perky full breasts, chiseled pectorals, globulal butts, you name it), but sexy as in down and dirty, in all our imperfections, in all our natural secretions sans deodorant.
This is why animalic is often uttered in the same breath as "skanky smelling", a term coined to denote on the one hand the sickly sweetish scent of skanks the animals themselves (with which many have not unpleasant associations), but also the promiscuous and physical nature of "skanks", the women who don't employ subtlety in their seduction routine, to put it politely. What is it about an overt display of sexuality that is so compelling, be it a manifestation in a feminine or a masculine fragrance interchanged between the sexes? What is it about smell which brings us to our more primitive level when the instinct of procreation, the instinct of sexual desire, the desire for life is conquering even the omnipresent fear of death?
In that regard, animalic scents can be said to encompass a wide grey area of fragrance taxonomy, from the outwardly civet-trumpeting fecal nuances such as in Bal a Versailles by Jean Desprez, the classic Schocking by Sciaparelli (based on a woman's odorata sexualis) and Tolu by Ormonde Jayne to the musk-evocing Muscs Kublai Khan (with added civet and castoreum notes) and Bois et Musc by Serge Lutens ~as well as the more hidden sexuality of musks & once real, now synthetic, civet in the drydown of lady-like Chanel No.5. There's the civet in "parfum de puta" (whore's brew) Tabu by Dana; this was verbatim the brief!
And from there to even more distant, unthought of arpeggios; such as the cumin-laced Femme by Rochas and Kingdom by Alexander McQueen; the ripe garbage stink beneath the lemon and melon freshness of Diorella; the cassie absolute in Une Fleur de Cassie (F.Malle) or the intense urinous scent of Kouros by Yves Saint Laurent and the gloriously honeyed "piss" in Absolue pour le Soir (Maison F.Kurkudjian) and Miel de Bois (Serge Lutens) ~thanks to the alchemy of phenylacetic acid. Chanel Antaeus and Yatagan by Caron are also rich in questionable scents, but oh so compelling. Yatagan by Caron is this direction's logical zenith.
Even citrusy, vivacious things can hide a sweaty, dirty skin quality beneath fresh notes (usually neroli and petitgrain are perfect foils for this sort of sweat scent masking, as they share a common component with sweat). Eau d'Hermès is one such example. Cartier Déclaration is another. Not coincidentally, the latter is loosely inspired by the former.
Sometimes the animal just lurks in the shadow, intimidating and breath-taking...Onda by Vero Profumo certainly creates that image; we sense its habitat, we guess it's there. Givenchy Gentleman is menacing. Sometimes it's in plain sight, more apparent and therefore less suggestive; think of the male parts smell that Rose Poivrée by The Different Company used to have until recently.
Animalic scents can create fear, like sex itself and its sheer potency has created fear in the minds of puritans and church-abiding citizens who made the rules in the past, in an effort to control what is perhaps most liberating in humans, sex drive itself. But animalic scents can also create real lust, intellectual appreciation and that most prized sentiment of them all: empathy for the human condition...
Technically the term isn't even in the dictionary, or at the very least it is defined as "of or concerning animals". Yet the full story isn't restricted to that. Simply put an animalic perfume might do two things: 1)contain animal-derived products, i.e. raw materials directly harvested from animal sources or 2) evoke the animal in you, i.e. producing that "animalic growl" we associate with...well, you know.
I am going to explain both in detail, just let it be said in passing that the quoted phrase above was first used by (sadly) long-defunct blogger Cognoscenti back when she described scent in a visceral, highly imaginative way, both on her blog and on MakeupAlley. From then on, it caught on with most perfume reviewers online to the point it's become a foregone conclusion to almost hear the sound before reading the words.
But the etymology of "animalic" in perfumery has more to do with perfume molecule producing company Synarome's "perfumer's base" (i.e.a ready-made chord of complimentary ingredients for use when composing perfumes) called Animalis; a feral, thick mixture with prominent civet and castoreum (both traditionally animal-derived products), a claster of musks and costus root (To get an idea, this base is featured in both vintage Piguet Visa and in Vierge et Toreros by Etat Libre d'Orange and possibly Twill Rose by Parfums de Rosine). Actually, for accuracy's sake, Synarome has not one but two Animalis bases in their arsenal: Animalis 1745-03 (which is Tonkin musk like, very musky) and Animalis 5853 with woody and sensuous notes.
The first explanation of animalic refering to animal-derived ingredients is rather a fantasy than a fact nowadays nevertheless, since most companies ~major and niche, high-end and lower-end~ have stopped using these ingredients, either due to ethical reasons for the safe-keeping of the animals, or due to the high costs associated, or due to legislation forbidding the use of certain of them (for instance owning ambergris is considered illegal in certain countries).
Traditionally animal harvested ingredients included fecal and perineum region gland essences from the Tibetan deer musk (Tonquin musk), civet (from the civet cat Civettictis civeta, technically not a cat at all), castoreum (from beavers) and ambergris (from the sperm whale). Of those four, only ambergris can be said not to hurt, irritate or threaten the animal in any way, as it is naturally excreted by the whale and found floating in the ocean. You can consult the links for more info on each and every one of those ingredients.
The reason such essences were used for centuries is because they instilled a warmth that morphed other ingredients into greatness (this is especially true of civet which lets floral essences "bloom" on the skin; see the classic Tabu which uses civet to reinforce the carnality call of jasmine, carnation & patchouli and was actively briefed as un parfum de puta to its perfumer Jean Carles!). Or they acted as fixatives, i.e. prolonging the duration of the aromatic components enough so that they do not evaporate as quickly (for instance the musk base in the traditional Eau de Cologne was meant to provide a little bit of anchoring to the fleeting hesperidic top notes and the herbal heart).
They were also useful in producing certain "notes", for instance castoreum was often used as a "leather scent note" in leather perfumes. Makes sense as real urine (alongside cow dung and other animal essences) were traditionally used to treat hides in tanneries, lending hides a distinctly animalic scent which needed further "masking" with flowers. Did I just spoil your luxe fantasies? Sorry....
A good example where the leathery scent is clearly "animalic" -as in sweaty, horsey hide- is Paco Rabanne's La Nuit. A subtler example where the musky note recalls circus animals droppings amidst the sawdust smelled from afar is Dzing! by L'Artisan Perfumeur.And yet, these are fabulous perfumes, polarising yes, but with a strange pull to them.
These animalistic notes can also be provocative as hell; see Kiehl's Original Musk, Musc Ravageur by Editions de Parfums F.Malle , the intensely animal-like Ajmal Musk Gazelle or the undulating between polite society & barnyard tryst L'Air de Rien by Miller Harris. The effect? Same as in 1950s and 1960s trend of wearing leopard or cheetah-printed coats and accessories; there's something dangerous, wild, untamed about the person sporting such an item, be it fashions or perfume.
But animal-derived ingredients can expand (and indeed they have in many artisanal lines today) into more esoteric things than just musky smells, like "African stone" (dried excrement from hyrax, a small rodent, like in Lord Jester's Dionysus) or choya nak (essence from toasted sea-shells, such as in Fairchild by natural perfumer Anya mcCoy of Anya's Garden). The olfactory effects rendered by these innovative, non-classical essences can be surprising and very pleasing: Although initially sounding strange, they manage to evoke the intimacy and warmth of living things. Which is the whole point of "animalic" in the first place, isn't it.
Even indolic perfume notes or some varieties of synthesized musk fragrances (containing none of the natural deer musk) can fall into the umbrella of "animalic" should they be given a proper context to shine. Cumin can smell intimate like sweat if it's treated in a rich composition with spices. Costus root can be reminiscent of unwashed hair, in more intimate places than just head, as in vintage Fille d'Eve by Nina Ricci. Cassie can come across as womanly, ripe for the plucking. The mastery lies in the perfumer knowning what he/she's after.
The second explanation of the term "animalic" is perhaps more tortured, possibly the most elusive. How does one define what "brings out the animal", or maybe the anima -if we're to use Jungian terms- in you? Surely attraction, arousal, excitement of the senses is a highly individual thing. And why has this been tied to "dirty" smells, as in smells pertaining to the armpit, the vulva, the penis, the anus, the urethra and the region therein? As Jean Paul Guerlain, master perfumer at Guerlain perfume, used to say about his perfumes, they were made to subtly evoke his mistress's more intimate regions and that involved all three holes. Of course older Guerlains, before the times of Jean Paul, can be naughty in a more discreet way; Mouchoir de Monsieur or Voilette de Madame hide a polite civet note in there.
What is it about our nether regions that is so olfactorily attractive, as if we were dogs sniffing each other in the butt while exchanging social hellos?
Animalic is largely a subjective term in this sense pertaining to perfume (no one's crotch smells exactly the same as the person's next to them), especially since perfume is conceived and traditionally used as an adornment that should elevate us over our basest instincts; a sort of sophistication and refinement that differentiates man from beast. This is an interesting dichotomy and at the same time an irony. Some of the most revered and masterful fragrances are indeed comprised from base smells, smells of the lower instincts. But I wonder, how is man able to elevate himself over the animal if beforehand he doesn't embrace the animal in him and rejoice in its constituents?
Apparently when speaking about animalic perfumes there are a few parameters peeking through as a constant. An animalic scent should be warm, rich, creating an aura of lived-in things (this is in part the allure of "skin scents"), maybe a tad pungent, but overall giving off sexiness; sexiness in the sense of actually making you think about sex, not just media-broadcasted images of what we should consider sexy (perky full breasts, chiseled pectorals, globulal butts, you name it), but sexy as in down and dirty, in all our imperfections, in all our natural secretions sans deodorant.
This is why animalic is often uttered in the same breath as "skanky smelling", a term coined to denote on the one hand the sickly sweetish scent of skanks the animals themselves (with which many have not unpleasant associations), but also the promiscuous and physical nature of "skanks", the women who don't employ subtlety in their seduction routine, to put it politely. What is it about an overt display of sexuality that is so compelling, be it a manifestation in a feminine or a masculine fragrance interchanged between the sexes? What is it about smell which brings us to our more primitive level when the instinct of procreation, the instinct of sexual desire, the desire for life is conquering even the omnipresent fear of death?
In that regard, animalic scents can be said to encompass a wide grey area of fragrance taxonomy, from the outwardly civet-trumpeting fecal nuances such as in Bal a Versailles by Jean Desprez, the classic Schocking by Sciaparelli (based on a woman's odorata sexualis) and Tolu by Ormonde Jayne to the musk-evocing Muscs Kublai Khan (with added civet and castoreum notes) and Bois et Musc by Serge Lutens ~as well as the more hidden sexuality of musks & once real, now synthetic, civet in the drydown of lady-like Chanel No.5. There's the civet in "parfum de puta" (whore's brew) Tabu by Dana; this was verbatim the brief!
And from there to even more distant, unthought of arpeggios; such as the cumin-laced Femme by Rochas and Kingdom by Alexander McQueen; the ripe garbage stink beneath the lemon and melon freshness of Diorella; the cassie absolute in Une Fleur de Cassie (F.Malle) or the intense urinous scent of Kouros by Yves Saint Laurent and the gloriously honeyed "piss" in Absolue pour le Soir (Maison F.Kurkudjian) and Miel de Bois (Serge Lutens) ~thanks to the alchemy of phenylacetic acid. Chanel Antaeus and Yatagan by Caron are also rich in questionable scents, but oh so compelling. Yatagan by Caron is this direction's logical zenith.
Even citrusy, vivacious things can hide a sweaty, dirty skin quality beneath fresh notes (usually neroli and petitgrain are perfect foils for this sort of sweat scent masking, as they share a common component with sweat). Eau d'Hermès is one such example. Cartier Déclaration is another. Not coincidentally, the latter is loosely inspired by the former.
Sometimes the animal just lurks in the shadow, intimidating and breath-taking...Onda by Vero Profumo certainly creates that image; we sense its habitat, we guess it's there. Givenchy Gentleman is menacing. Sometimes it's in plain sight, more apparent and therefore less suggestive; think of the male parts smell that Rose Poivrée by The Different Company used to have until recently.
Animalic scents can create fear, like sex itself and its sheer potency has created fear in the minds of puritans and church-abiding citizens who made the rules in the past, in an effort to control what is perhaps most liberating in humans, sex drive itself. But animalic scents can also create real lust, intellectual appreciation and that most prized sentiment of them all: empathy for the human condition...
Which are YOUR OWN favorite animalic perfumes?
mouchoir de monsieur bottle pic via insidekevinguyer.blogspot.com, of Dzing bottle via parfum-photo.livejournal.com
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