Beautiful Love: new from Lauder

With the tagline “a perfume to celebrate the love that you share”, Esteé Lauder is trying to catch the Valentine’s Day shoppers this year with its latest interpretation of one of her established perfumes, the intensely floral Beautiful.

Beautiful has always been presented as a wedding perfume, sometimes set to beauties such as gorgeous Paulina Porizkova, other times accompanying less gorgeous Elizabeth Hurley. It has proven to be a bestseller for ladies who want a romantic touch and the images of the advertising have proved very receptive from males about to purchase fragrance for their wives and fiancées, according to Lauder reports.
The fragrance came out originally in 1986 and it purportedly contained over 200 ingredients that took 4 years to find their proper place in the “perfect” formula that elicited the comment “beautiful!” upon being smelled by friends of Mrs.Lauder sampling it. So the name stuck. Or so the legend goes…
Personally I have always found Beautiful a little (OK, a lot) over the top in its big, bright, groaning with white florals (tuberose, jasmine, orange flower, lily of the valley) composition and although it reacted well on my skin on various testings, I never gave it the benefit of a doubt, never purchasing a bottle for myself.

Beautiful Love comes exactly 20 years after its big sister as the prodigy to follow in the successful steps of the revered relative.
This marketing technique of flankers, companion perfumes to already established ones bearing a variation on the original’s name has worked well for Lauder. With the exception of White Linen Breeze, all the others worked well and proved commercially viable and even successful. Around the time the company first signed with Elizabeth Hurley there was an attempt to modernize the classic soapy aldehydic White Linen, boosting it with marine notes and making it less potent and abstract. The experiment went well for a while, as it was the 90s and marine frags were de riguer. Lauder had no other marine in its stable. Soon however it became extinct, as Pleasures got launched to a staggering success, bringing back the vogue for “clean” floral smells.
Then came Garden of Pleasures, around 1999-2000, a limited edition trio of scents each highlighting one specific floral note in the original Pleasures – therefore there was Moon Lily (a glorious floriental whose passing I lament), Peony and Lilac. Being limited editions to coincide with the launch of an homonymous makeup line, they soon disappeared. I still to this day regret I did not stock up on Moon Lily. It was the best of the lot….
The next logical step was Pleasures Intense (a sharper, more intense floral) and soon after Pleasures Exotic for summer, with the addition of tropical fruits and citrus.

When Tom Ford came on wheel, he had the brilliant idea of revolutionizing the classic of the house: Youth Dew. A classic that smelled anything but what its name suggested. As mr.Ford is first and foremost a great marketer he instantly knew that he had to keep the sensual notes, but lighten the load, freshen up the image and inject sexiness in both the smell and the image. Youth Dew Amber Nude was the final result and it was pleasurable enough to re-ignite interest in the Lauder brand in young people’s minds (where the house did not register as hip). His Azurée oil interpretation last summer was also quite successful.
Pure White Linen, fronted by Gwyneth Paltrow, was the house’s latest effort to capitalize on another classic name, especially since White Linen Breeze had long ago disappeared from shelves. The final product is quite decent and I say that straight faced. It’s a likeable clean smell for instances when you don’t want to bother too much with what you wear, you just want to smell carefree and nice. Even the bombastically floral Beyond Paradise came to meet a little cousin by the name Beyond Paradise Blue, which I haven't tested yet.
Beautiful had already experienced a little watering down when the mood for lighter scents became the norm with Beautiful Sheer, one of the formulations that are supposed to be used during the humid season when the original version would seem suffocating.

Beautiful Love is the newest in that long string of “flankers” exposing a modern, creamier and more sensuous side of the Beautiful floral fragrance.
Karyn Khoury, Senior Vice President, Corporate Fragrance Development Worldwide, Estée Lauder Companies describes it as having less intense green notes and a greater emphasis on the classic’s white floral elements, ‘Beautiful Love captures the emotional depth of shared love’ she is quoted to say.
The official notes according to Osmoz are:

Top note : Pomelo, Cantaloupe, Mango,Pink Pepper, Freesia,Ivy
Middle note : Tiare, Tuberose, Jasmine,Other Flower, Black Violet
Base note : White Orris,, Whipped Cream, Tonka Bean, Vetiver, Cashmeran,Other Woods

The classification is woody musky floral, which is not sounding bad at all.
The effect is much lighter in feeling and less perfumey, with the fruit notes opening a tart impromptu going on to softer, creamy florals and a velvety base.
Packaged in a bottle that stays close to the feminine lines of the fluid crystal of the original Beautiful one, it features a pink-gold cap.
It comes in eau de parfum strength in bottles of 30ml/1oz, 75ml//2.5oz and 100ml/3.4oz.

Pic of bottle from Osmoz, pic of Beautiful ad courtesy of Parfum de pub.

Ava Luxe Madame X: a fragrance review

There are some perfumes that sing of female emancipation, of confidence, cool and the power of the go-getter. They are high brow at all circumstances, they are professional yet elegant, the mark of a successful woman in all areas. They have class, sophistication, refinement and a je ne sais quoi that sets them apart and makes them the object of admiration.
Madame X by Ava Luxe is not one of them.

Instead it recalls all the carnal knowledge that has a primitive root in out psyche, the call of the wild, the chase, female surrender, complete abandonment in the open arms of hell. Like an erotic adventure in a distant bruised past it has the rare ability to entice with the memory of the basest and lowest one has ever been to and actually had fun out of it. To call something sexy is a cliché and we do not condone clichés at Perfume Shrine, at least to the measure that is within our abilities. Madame X has none of the mysterious aura of a femme fatale nor the coolness of her calculating demeanour. She is no Bridget Gregory /Wendy Kroy from "The Last Seduction", as played by Linda Fiorentino, cool as a cucumber and only acting vulnerable in order to get her case made, improvising with the same black goal all along.
Madame X is a vulnerable woman, all open for the plucking, a little mature, a little pained and you have to approach her with the fervour and candour of a considerate lover, that for reasons of his own would be willing to explore the possibilities of reaching God.




Her trail of soft, deep, sensual labdanum in all its erotic permutations blooms on the skin, coupled with the slight fresh pepperiness of coriander. The initial impression it made mingled the spicy jolt and sweet richness of Cinnabar combined with the depth and raunch of amber, vanilla, sandalwood and the civet accord of Obsession. I do love both of those perfumes so the association was not simply interesting but positively mesmerising. The leather is so soft it almost makes one shed a tear of longing, while the lasting power is good although the volume at which this gem projects is low and discreet.
The viscous consistency of a drop of parfum upon my skin held the fascination of the imaginary prototype virgin in Grenouille’s pursuit for perfection. I can be brazen and say that it has captured my heart and draws its strings as we speak. Were I a man I would fall deeply in love with the mature person that would only spontaneously raise her legs for a reason only she herself knows, allowing me to harvest her most precious essence: Madame X.

Madame X is described as a "sheer ambery veil of labdanum and leather that wears close to the skin but lingers through the night" by its creator and comes in Parfum and Eau de Parfum concentrations.

Official Notes: Coriander, Acacia Farnesiana, Freshly cut hay, Jasmine, Rose, Labdanum, Leather, Incense, Patchouli, Oakmoss, Civet, Ambergris, Castoreum, Sandalwood Mysore, Precious Musks, Vanilla

You can purchase samples or order directly from the Ava Luxe site here:
Ava Luxe index page

I know I for one am eager to explore more of her creations.


Pic of Charlotte Rambling originally upoaded on POL. "Last tango in Paris" comes from Brando fan-site.

Colour of the jus

Have you ever wondered if the colour of your perfume is not a haphazard choice? Have you asked yourselves if you would love it equally if it were a different hue? Or more importantly if the people involved in creating it have actually exerted any brainstorming about this?
A funny incident happened a while ago and made me consider the issue from another angle than the mere personal.

On a fine lunch hour shopping spree I passed from that shop that was inspired by Moses' wife and rhymes with catastrophe in Greek (which is what my significant other always mutters when he sees a bag with the white-on-black logo of it). I am referring of course to Sephora.
As I was browsing, nodding to myself "already tested", "already tested", "already tested", I come close to a couple at the Lauder shelves. Casually dressed but well groomed (the european groomed casual chic), around 30 both.
The girl, a dark haired one, rather pretty, grabs the tester for Knowing and ooohs and aaahs saying "Oh, this is my favourite perfume in the world, wore it so much". (I am thinking she wanted the guy to take the hint and buy it for her- and she was not the mercenary type at all). The guy seems uninterested and browses beside her, going "uh huh". She then picks up Cinnabar, as they have the older Lauders all grouped together. "This is nice too" she comments smelling the bottle.(I agree) She gives it to the guy, who says they are both rather heavy, vetoing the decision. She is even motioning to pick up the Youth Dew, when he intervenes and says : "Imagine how heavy that one must be; it's almost black!!" She never finished the motion to pick it up and sniff the bottle, as she didn't do it with Aliage either (which is also quite dark). And immediately he goes on and picks the nearby Alien (Sephora places them alphabetically and Mugler is after Lauder). "Now this is lighter, better" he quips. (the "light" thing merits its own discussion in another post) She made a face. I just about wanted to smack him at that point! Both because he denied her what she obviously liked and because he showed his prejudices about perfume picking. I didn't follow them to see what they bought in the end. I didn't have the luxury of time. Maybe they didn't buy anything. If they did however it was not what she wanted, she seemed crestfallen....
I don't see these two making it to the aisle and that doesn't refer to the shopping kind.
The little story has a moral though. People judge with their eyes as much as with their noses.

There is another great story that has been recounted to me by J, known as Teacake, a sweet Australian-based lady. She mentioned that someone young (a teenager actually) who was a friend of her daughter had proclaimed upon viewing her collection that "yellow/golden juices don't smell nice, only pink and blues do". That comment has been a mini-epiphany for me. Seriously: it made me realise that indeed the colour of the jus really denotes the target market as well as the olfactory family in most cases: fruity florals and "fresh" scents which were all the rage with the young some nanoseconds ago are indeed pink or blue!

I don't think this is an accident. I believe it has to do with the mentality that yellow jus is older, classic perfumes that are associated with natural ingredients (no naturals are coloured pink or blue, except chamomille of course and they don't use it in most commercial perfumery because of that unstable blueish tint that might ruin the general effect).
If one stops and thinks about it most of the classics are pale golden or light ambery: Shalimar, Femme, Mitsouko, Joy, Chanel #5, Bois des iles, L'heure bleu. They all vibrate at some variation of wee colour. There are a few notable exceptions like Chanel #19 or the afore mentioned Youth Dew, but still no pink or blue or even purple coloured perfume existed till quite recently. Certain natural ingredients do have a deep colour: Peru Balsam is molasses dark; natural jasmine turns almost orange with the passing of time, sometimes alarming us into thinking that a perfume containing it has turned.

Pink and blue juice on the other hand usually has a highly synthetic construction that guarantees the stability of colour and the unnatural hue of the finished product.
Personally, I have a deep seated aversion to the colour blue in fragrances, although I do appreciate it in other permutations (the sea, glassware and jewels come to mind). I think it shows an insurmountable lack of imagination on behalf of the person who opts for it; especially if it's a man, I'm afraid. It's such an easy, safe choice! What's your favourite colour? 9 out of 10 men reply blue, if asked out of the blue about it (am I being punny?). I don't hear fuschia (too gay), chesnut(too difficult; do they even know it's a shade?), vermillon (it sounds like a french recipe for something involving snails or frog's legs) or even black (the odd rocker/goth/outcast/mysterious Lothario picks that one up out of the 10.....thank God fot that)
In perfume terms it usually denotes an overload of the dreaded fakeness that is the "marine" note. Yeah.....marine for people born and raised and living all their lives in the Chezh Republic(a landlocked country); having no passport on top of that. I am categorically adamant that the sea does not smell like any of the marine fragrances out there I have ever smelled. I do keep hoping some day they will catch the elusive trail. I live in hope.

Anyway, younger folks tend to associate the hip and new with those pastel hues, dismissing the rest as "old ladies' perfume". In their desire to mark their territory and draw the line, maping their own identity, revolting from what their parents wear, they go for the pink and blue, with the odd inclusion of purple for those who like a smidgeon of mystery (or so they imagine).
So companies churn out perfumes in those colours. It's all marketing, I'm afraid.


Pic was sent to me via mail uncredited, probably courtesy of an advertising campaign (MAC maybe?)
Not sure, but great photo nonetheless.

The death of Mitsouko

Those who have followed Perfume Shrine since it started on a previous host know that I have talked about what Mitsouko means to me. How my own words cannot convey what it stirs in my soul.

And here we get official confirmation from Guerlain that the rich base of it has been irrevocably annihilated, substituting oakmoss with treemoss. Of course various slight reformulations have been performed along the way in at least the last 30 years, since Mitsouko comes from the mythical age of 1919, a farewell to the old world that got terminated in the throes of the Great War.
Inspired by a tragic tale in the first place, it is an Andromache mourning for her lost Hector, her injustly killed son Astyanax and her looming future in degraded slavery.
Read how she had forseen her future and her most touching goodbyes to her husband as described in Iliad here.
Mitsouko ,much like the above excerpt, is all the sad and proud things imagination can muster...
And although I have not compared with the new current version in rotation at shops, my heartstrings are aching for the loss of the scent that more than anything else signifies imminent tragedy, loss and hurt to me.

The following piece of music best represents the foreboding feeling I get when I utter the word Mitsouko. It's the second movement of Beethoven's 7th symphony (Allegretto) performed by conductor Charles Latshaw and his orchestra to perfection. Click here to experience the awe and wonder for the very last time, listening "to the exquisite music of that strange procession, and say goodbye to her, to the Alexandria you are losing".

Artwork is by Jean Louis David "La Douleur et les Regrets d'Andromaque sur le corps d'Hector son mari" 1873, courtesy of Wikipedia.

What do the rich smell of?

It might seem a silly question. And yet, it made me ponder a bit. Intrigued by gut response received upon casual comments on various fora and the amount of controversy that issues of money and class raise even in classless United States, I have been coming to the conclusion that it is indeed a loaded question.

Upon initial shifting the general concensus seems to be that people with loaded pockets and platinum cards with credit limits on the upper echelons really go for the super exclusive, the elusive, the prestigeous and the ridiculously priced.
The recent example of the wedding gift of Clive Christian perfume to Katie Holmes by Tom Cruise, for her to wear on her wedding day is a case in point of the latter. No.1 retails for 600 euros for a 50ml/1.7oz bottle of parfum; which is actually the minimum basic salary in my country. I leave deductions to you...
The real question would be: "is it worth it?" This to me at least has to do solely with content and not presentation. Otherwise one can decant a glorious perfume in the most exquisite Baccarat bottle and enjoy it from there or just use a milk carton, it does not make that big a difference in my mind...
Purpotedly, Clive Christian No.1 for women consists of only the finest, rarest and most precious materials. However there is so much one can put into a perfume in terms of quality, after which point the whole starts to smell overwhelming and bad. I mean, upwards a certain point it does not make any difference because there is so much one can include anyway. And if one cares to look at the list of notes, one stumbles upon the insurmountable block of lily of the valley; a note that cannot be successfuly extracted from nature, a note that has to be recreated with other elements, most common of which are Citronellyl Acetate varietys A and Acetate pure, Geranyl Acetate pure, Lindenol and Terpineol Alpha JAX. As to other notes, the majority of top notes consists of things that do not skyrocket the paycheck for obtaining them: lime, Sicilian mandarin, cardamom, nutmeg, and thyme. And in its floral heart, ylang ylang is the rarity in the cost department of floral essences inventory (meaning it's relatively cheap), hence called "poor man's jasmine". The ambery woods of the base is so vague that it leaves me doubtful as to what exactly goes in the production.
So sorry, I am not convinced the price tag really reflects the content. A certain amount of snobbism is involved as well. And by the way, since the hostorian never really leaves my writing, snob derives from the notification that newly rich young men got upon entering the aristocratic colleges of the old Britain, namely Oxford and Cambridge: s.nob, denoting sine nobilitas, latin for "no nobility". Worth keeping in mind.

Joy by Jean Patou, Henri Alméras' tour de force, was touted as "the costliest perfume in the world" back in its heyday in 1930, affirming the inextricable tie between perfume, luxury and financial abandon. It was actually Elsa Maxwell, venomous gossip queen of the 30s that came up with the infamous moniker about it, the one that sealed its success besides its rich bouquet of the best jasmine and lushest rose. But those were times of recession and ruin after the Wall Street crash of 1929. It was completely irrational then as is Clive Christian now, even though it was initially devised as a less costly means of giving american women a slice of Patou's prestige now that they could no longer afford his couture. The difference though hinged on the pretenciousness that is lacking in Joy's case. Today Joy pure parfum in the 30ml/1oz bottle costs 160£ (british pounds) or 299$ at internet discounters.

Marie Antoinette is well known for her excesses and the recent biopic made by Sofia Coppola has brought her once again in the spotlight. There is a well known tale about how it was her perfume that sent her to the guillotine. On June 20,1791 Louis XVI, Marie Antoinette and their family retinue attempted to escape to eastern France, where troops loyal to the monarchy were waiting after the revolution had gained control of Paris. Their flight however was cut off at Varennes; they were recognised and arrested there and sent off to Paris under escort where they met their demise at the guillotine two years later. There is some speculation that it was the divine quality (and contrast with the rest of the people) of Marie Antoinette's perfumes and pomades that set her apart despite her disguise when they travelled, as 18th century France was a place infested with disease, full of open sewers and all that at a time when talking a bath was not to be indulged in often.
According to The Scotsman, many people have been intrigued by the scent of the decadent royal and an effort to recreate it has resulted in "Sillage de la Reine" (Queen's wake) by Elisabeth de Feydeau, "a writer who stumbled upon the lost recipe, along with the Parisian perfume-maker Francis Kurkdjian. Ms Feydeau was preparing a biography of its inventor, Jean-Louis Fargeon, the court perfumer, when she made the discovery. Mr Kurkdjian agreed that he should try to resurrect the scent using the techniques and ingredients of Fargeon's day "just to see if we could. It was very difficult because although we possess the same primary materials, the environment now is very different." But he was satisfied with the result - a mixture of jasmine, rose, iris, tuberose, lavender, musk, vanilla, ambergris, cedar, sandalwood and other essences. "The perfume is 100 per cent natural, and certainly something that the queen would have worn," he added. Ms Feydeay said smelling the Queen's Wake is "as if you're walking past a magnificent bouquet comprising flowers of every season. It has an incredible fullness." The whole composition has been likened to a precursor of Chanel #5, which begs the question why pay so much for something that can be had for much less, but I guess it's not the super-rich that wil grab those bottles but the super-collectors. You can read about the recreated perfume clicking here

And what do the rich and famous wear? One of my perfume projects is to document a list of perfumes picked up by the rich and famous, some richer than others, some more famous than others and the result can be seen clicking here It seems that among the more exclusive choices they sometimes go for things that are set by trends, or for the ubiquitous Creed fragrance which I largely attribute to Creed's magnificent PR machine, more than their consistent taste. It's interesting and fun to peruse the list however.

What do ordinary people think the rich smell of? I think most folks are judging by what is considered Bon Chic, Bon Genre when they attribute classic Rue Cambon Chanel perfumes, classic and boutique Guerlains and some Goutals to the rich and incidentally classy people. However as we all know rich and classy are not interchangeable and one should leave a leaway for the more vulgar choices. Those latter ones would have a more outspoken and loud personality to go with newly acquired money, elaborate porn-chic french manicures on long talons, bleached hair to an inch of their lives and gaudy jewels when none is required for women, really heavy all-gold watches for men. At least that's the image I freely associate with it and I would be a little coy in naming specific names.
My personal experience tells me that the richer and classier one is, the less inclined he/she is to drown all the others around in the fumes! The really rich people I have known and smelled have all worn light, subtle fragrances that were imperceptible until they leaned for a social shake of hands.
What did I smell? Aqua di Parma original cologne, Diorella and Eau du Cologne Impériale by Guerlain (latter was on a guy).
A couple of others had something on I did not recognise definitely, but still in the same vein. They were ship owners and involved in shipping: loads of money, no doubt about that.

And finally yes, when all is said and done if you're finding yourself savouring the waft from a syrupy potent composition, it's unlikely you're downwind from Princess Caroline of Monaco. I'm sorry...


Pic comes from Czguest by Slim Aaron