Fragrance review: Avicenna by Annette Neuffer

Annette Neuffer is a multi-talented lady you have not come across associated with fragrance yet. But you sure will. Not only is she an accomplished jazz musician with a quintet after her own name, performing all around the world, she has also stepped into the perilous world of perfumery using all natural essences to render her wild imaginings palpable and tangible for us.
Her generosity in sending me her labour of love was astounding and I am honoured to have been at the receiving end. To tell you the truth, I begin all those samplings with no expectations at all (since I don’t want to be prejudiced one way or another), but usually they prove very pleasant and sometimes even gripping to my surprise.

Annette’s most accomplished foray into the art of composing perfume so far is Avicenna, a sumptuous oriental of a deep ambery golden colour like a monastic liqueur. A complex and dark mix of several expensive rose essences of various origin (Bulgarian, Turkish, Russian, Moroccan), jasmine, broom, pepper, honey, sandalwood, amber, vanilla and musks.
The name alone enticed me as soon as I heard about it: Avicenna or more accurately Abu Ali al-Husain ibn Abdallah ibn Sina (born in Isfahan, the legendary city in 980AD), was the famous researcher, scientist and philosopher of Islam who was responsible for cracking the secret of rose distillation in the 10th century. Islam is a culture stepped deep into the cult of the rose. For them rose is the essence of beauty, holiness and spirituality. It appears in many facets of everyday life and plays an important part in religious ceremonies. The thick plush petals that resemble velvet hold a fascination for the denizens of the anhydrous regions of the Middle East and its heavy narcotic feel lulls the mind into a reverie.
Annette Neuffer was inspired by these historical details and strove to create something with an ancient feel to it, something that would lend some small magical touch in our everyday preparation to face the perilous world out there, a fragrant talisman for our protection.

The spicy cascade Avicenna opens with takes you by the throat and forces you to pay attention as caustic pepper singes and swirls around floral essences, perhaps a tad too stringently. Ginger and cardamom are also apprarent, while cinnamon does not make a too noticeable appearence, certainly not what you're accustomed to from its ubiquitous use in pot-pourri. The garland of rose unfolds on the skin majestically, like a thousand petals crushed underfoot in a medieval palace in Tehran. Myriads of nuances of rose take on mellow hues lent by smooth saffron and the bracken and honey feel of broom as the progression of the maturing of the precious and quite potent essence is continuing. It is very apparent that those sensations have their feet firmly in the sensual world of the material world of Nature rather than the white-coat lab of an urban conglomerate technician. There is no sharp note or that high pitched aluminium and glass feel of modern perfumes that one can smell at a department store. It’s cobbled alleys and dirt instead.
The underlying mustiness has reminded me of the famous Caron accord that is so evident in most of the venerable firm’s offerings. Their Poivre, Parfum Sacre and Rose parfums all contribute elements that can be traced later on in Avicenna.
As I inhale deeply I am transported to Top Kapi, the Constantinople palace where draperies of heavy damask hide Byzantine secrets and languorous kohl-eyed sultanas take a break from their more carnal occupations to revel in the romanticized florancy of rose and the piercing sweetness of natural jasmine in the lazy hours of a never ending afternoon.
Aromatic resins such as erotic labdanum and mellow benzoin anchor the composition with restraint so that it never becomes too sweet, as one might fear judging by the notes; although they do lend tremendous fixation and staying power to it. The final phase recalls the deep and dull colour of large amber beads threaded together in a komboloi (playing beads), one ticking the other incessantly, as time elapses lazily until all aromas on skin very, very slowly exit with a sigh.

The official notes are as follows:

Head

Black Pepper, Cinnamon Bark, Cardamom, Ginger, Macis, Mandarin, Bergamot, Tunisian Neroli

Heart
Saffron Absolute, Tunisian Orange Blossom absolute, Turkish and Bulgarian Rose Otto and absolute, Moroccan Rose Absolute, Russian Rose Absolute, Jasminum Grandiflorum Egypt, Acacia Farnesiana, Indian Tuberose, Broom Absolute

Base
Beeswax Absolute Supιrieur, Oppoponax, Elemi, Labdanum, Benzoin, Vanilla Absolute, Mysore Sandalwood, Copaiva Balsam, Hibiscus Abelmoschus


Annette Neuffer might not be as experienced as some other established perfumers, but her passion and interest in the world of natural essences is at least engaging and worth exploring for yourself.
I highly recommend you visit her Perfume Page here, where you can get info, request samples and possibly order.
You can also contact her directly at: info@naturparfum.net



Pic is of Blue Mosque in Constantinople/Istanbul courtesy of pbase.com

Chanel Les Exclusifs: new perfume direction or perfume snobbery?

The new perfume line of Chanel was trumpeted all around the Netsphere with bated breath anticipation, reveries of upcoming delights and awe-stricken reception when the bottles finally landed in the boutiques. It was Chanel, they were super exclusive, it was le dernier cri! They were touted to be the new direction in perfumery and the 6 bottles you had to make room for on your dresser, per one critic, to the eclipse of all others.
Almost a fortnight later I think we are in a position to evaluate things with a clearer head and give what’s due without histrionics of teen fan excitement.

Chanel has a rich olfactory tradition to keep. Mainly because she revolutionized modern perfumery with her innovative Chanel #5 and the subsequent masterpieces of Ernest Beaux, like Bois des Iles, #22, Cuir de Russie and the older version of Gardenia. (I am saying older because the thin, pale, jasmine-rich specter of today does not fulfill the above given title). The luminous star lighting an enchanted forest that was to become Chanel #19 was to be launched years later, in 1970, created by Henri Robert. The Chanel brand languished after Coco’s death in 1971, for years remaining the doyen of the “old ladies” who dressed conservatively (how ironic given it was Coco who revolutionized women’s wear at the beginning of the century!). And yet it was an inescapable reality for years. It took the daring of Karl Lagerfeld to re-enter Chanel into young people’s consciousness with biker jackets decorated with camellias, torn skirt hems and tall boots with the characteristic two-tone instep. The brand witnessed a resurgence. At about that time Jacques Polge was hired as head perfumer, one of the few that remained in that position when houses stopped this time-honoured practice and were issuing briefs to big perfume companies who concocted various brews according to market research and evolving trends all through the 80s and 90s. Chanel instead produced Coco, Egoiste, Allure and oversaw the introduction of an eau de parfum concentration for Cristalle that utilized a different formula, giving it a more sophisticated chyprish feel.
And then something happened: as if Polge’s creativity unwound and he started producing crowd pleasers that would fit in with the trends: Coco Mademoiselle (surely inspired by the staggering success of the gourmands and the emerging vogue for patchouli), Chance (a lighter and fresher Coco Mlle), Allure Sensuelle (is it me or is this the least innovative of all of Chanel’s offerings?). Those all worked well, sold lots (no mean feat, granted) and everyone should feel happy, right?

However this is not how minds worked at Chanel evidently. Perfume is a highly snob business it seems, because as perfume has become a commodity to be shared by the masses (what was once the unwashed masses of dirty boulevards is now the average clean consumer who buys a gift for oneself or a loved one at a department store) the allure of the exclusive, the luxurious and the rare had escaped Chanel. Sure, there were the elusive Exclusive Rue Cambon scents, a collection of classics that was re-issued in the 90s for the delectation of perfume aficionados available at Chanel boutiques. All the same, the exclusivity was not 100% there, because that devil of an Internet, that Gloss.com site had secured rights to sell the Rue Cambon collection to the public on-line. Everyone in the US, from the stay at home wife in Minnesota to the career lady in a demanding job at Rhodes Island could secure a bottle of exclusivity cachet in the form of a bottle of Bois des Iles or Cuir de Russie. So that cachet was not really what it seemed to be. Anyone in the know and with a little amount of money could partake of it. That was simply unacceptable by the clientele of Chanel couture who probably wanted their own elite fragrances to go with their expensive gowns (let’s not forget that Chanel is a house that charges for giving you extra buttons for your missing ones in your clothes!) Or so I am guessing.

Hence the new line of Les Exclusifs was conceived: Bel Respiro, Coromandel, No 18, 28 La Pausa, Eau de Cologne and 31 Rue Cambon. All inspired by places and objects that were tied to Coco Chanel herself.
And sticking to the idea that it had to be something niche and ultra-luxurious it transpired that they should perhaps mimic the concept of other lines and houses which imbued their foot into the great pool of the niche perfumery: Hermessences with their very successful Jean Claude Ellena signature minimalist style, Armani Prive with their austere architectural bottles, Dior Collection with their unique aromas. Guerlain of course was a different proposition as they are a perfume house to begin with and they had inaugurated a boutique full of exclusives in Paris.
Chanel was the only great house that had not tried that field. It seemed like high time.

And henceforth Polge got into the act. It had been published that Chris Sheldrake, the Australian genius working under the maestro baguette of Serge Lutens at Palais Royal Shiseido was under contract to work for Chanel. However, it was to be as deputy perfumer while Polge remained head nose. Eyebrows were raised, questioning gazes were exchanged into the netsphere and the thing soon subsided. There is simply no official confirmation if Sheldrake worked on the new Exclusifs. We’ll leave it at that till further notice.

Anyhow, the 6 new fragrances were issued as gigantic 200ml bottles of eau de toilette concentration at a staggering price of 180 euros. I know that ml for ml the price isn’t steep (it would be 45 euros for 50ml to give you an idea) In fact doing the comparative math we deduce that it is quite economical compared with the Hermessences for example. However the fact that they have not talked about smaller bottles being available makes them a little pretentious and destined to be used as decadent splashes. Which their concentration and lack of sillage call for.
This is weird coming from a brand that caters to bourgeois tastes: people shopping for perfume in this prerogative want everyone to be conscious of their luxurious choice of fragrance leaving a trail behind and it is exactly that that’s hard to do with the new Exclusifs. The abundance of juice hints at a desire to abandon restraint and just spray away, a concept that somehow brings to my mind nuances of snobbism, in a world where there are people who are starving. The Eau de Cologne, one of the 6, even comes in a dinosaur size of 400ml! I cannot imagine the hands that are supposed to yield such a ginormous vehicle of scented consumerism.

The style and character of the scents themselves is like academic mannerism in my mind, because they do echo nuances of other Chanel creations: the incense of no.22 and the patchouli of Allure Sensuelle crop up in the tempered oriental of Coromandel, the iris and verdancy of Chanel #19 in 28 La Pausa and Bel Respiro, the tartness and citrus twist of Cristalle in Eau de Cologne and so on. I don’t know if this was intentional or a case of unconscious association (perfumery is such a pretentious field that it wouldn’t surprise me if they claimed that); as it is, it begs the question: why buy something new when the old is perfectly all right and vastly superior at that?
The new oakmoss-free chypre in 31 Rue Cambon may be trying to revolutionize the industry with the iris-pepper accord that supposedly mimics the traditional sophistication of a chypre perfume, yet it evolves as a light floriental on skin, certainly not the sophisticated bombastic effect of what we are accustomed to view as chypre. Perhaps my ominous, foreboding feeling that perfumery will never be the same after all those restrictions is not so pessimistic after all. It would pain me to really believe it, yet 31 Rue Cambon does not do much to alleviate the feeling, lovely as it trully is to sniff.
For fragrances that had been touted as the new direction in perfumery they distinctly lack a compass into the unknown and seem to tread well known waters with simple, unfinished accords that try to appear modern yet do not do so with firm conviction. Something tells me that Polge who is a self-professed oriental lover does not feel comfortable composing sparse oeuvres of a John Cage nature. He would be more in tune in doing a Prokofiev. And yet, someone somehow has managed to elicit those reactions in the lab, producing 6 new scents at a time frame that used to be adequate for only one or two great ones.

I will come back with more analytical reviews on each one of them; however I needed to be harsh this time. They can afford it, I gather….

Top pic from the film "Much ado about nothing" by Kenneth Branagh. Middle pic from imagesdesparfums

Belle en Rykiel: fragrance review

This is the time to test your span of attention, dear readers. Remember how I had talked about the upcoming new fragrance from Sonia Rykiel, madame de tricot, full of anticipation, back in the day? It was last October on my previous venue, on another host. You can read what I had written and the official info on the new perfume here.
Today I will occupy myself with accounting my actual sniffing experience for your delectation.

Sonia Rykiel is a true Parisian eccentric lady with elegant daughter Nathalie as precious accomplice in their adventures in knit, navy clothes Breton-style and the ubiquitous black. Her signature frizzy red mane is only a hint of her willingness to participate in outré concepts like their new boutique with all the naughty props...
In perfumery she hasn't made any faux pas, starting their fragrant stable with the great dry woody Sonia Rykiel Le parfum in 1993. It was as late as 1997 that they issued their next one, named simply Sonia Rykiel in the sweater torso bottle with the strass on the chest, boxed in an orange rectangle and smelling of sweet fruits mingled with vanilla and caramel, inspired by the success of Angel, making this one for gourmands in every sense of the word. The following year saw L'eau de Sonia Rykiel, a predictably aquatic "blue" scent to satisfy the end of the market that had moved on from L'eau d'Issey because of its mass popularity and wanted something a little more private and subtle; while 2000 was the year Rykiel catered for men as well with her dark Rykiel Homme. The collection now seemed complete.
However when something is good saleswise, perfume houses and marketing teams want to capitalize on that: enter Rykiel Rose (2000) in a version of the original sweater bottle, this time tinged in a very becoming pink hue, redolent of succulent tarter fruits and a sparkling interpretation of the king of flowers (for most folks, I'm not one of them!)
By the same token Rykiel Grey (2003) was a male tart and sexy musky version in another sweater bottle, while the true masterpiece came out that same year and was emphatically and irrevocably destined for women: Rykiel Woman, not for men!(in eau de parfum; the eau de toilette that launched two years later is sadly different and not on a par).

The newest Belle en Rykiel , created by nose Jean Pierre Bethouart (working for Firmenich), crossed my path for real this time like an accidental rencontre with someone you had heard lots about half-remembering what that someone was like. Time had passed and I did not remember any notes or description, just that it was a promising new release from the designer who captured my heart with Rykiel Woman,not for men! rich crayons of a dusky, musky hue. I was therefore a complete virgin in regards to sampling it when the genuine surprise of seeing the heavy architectural bottle subsided. Surprise, because although I had been informed that it had already launched since last autumn I had not yet located a tester. This is an irritating phenomenon that has to stop: how is it possible to sell something, a new product on top of that, without a tester available for the buyer to sample from? Some mysterious clairvoyant act of genius must transpire, I guess...

The official description promised an aromatic oriental, presumambly because of the inclusion of one of the most traditional aromatics in perfumery that has done a comeback -much like the also for long forgotten violet note- that is lavender. Now, lavender is usually a masculine element, both because of its traditional and somewhat expected inclusion in so many men's scents, from Grey Flannel to Goutal's Eau de Lavande. And to tell you the truth it is not my personal favourite note in a women's perfume, because if it is the real stuff it smells quite medicinal which I find offputting, and if it is not it's even worse; a travesty smothered in easy to swallow vanilla cream like kid's pills. If you have to have something, be a man and take it as it is, is my motto!
However, truth be told, in Belle en Rykiel it smells neither very prominent, nor masculine.
Its celebral coupling with incense, as promised by the promotion text, gave me an idea that maybe it would be an echo of Encens et Lavande by Serge Lutens, a Paris exclusive with the most gorgeous drydown (final phase) of smooth olibanum/frankincense that recalls the heavy damasc drapery of a baroque cathedral in the time of the Spanish Inquisition.
However in Belle en Rykiel, I am a little disappointed to report that the final impression is not as dramatic or richly evocative of similar decadence with the resplendour of such historical periods.

Upon spraying the light golden liquid on my wrists the tartness of mandarin and berry overtook any possible medicinal tendency lavender has, with a projection that at first seemed a bit strong for my taste. It took a while for it to unfold the powdery and sweet heliotropin which emerged triumphantly in the middle along with a garland of light incense that is nowhere near the eclesiastical dense cloud of Avignon or the sheer drama of Norma Kamali Incense.
Patchouli seems like such an ubiquitous element in half of today's perfumes that frankly, although I love its aroma, it's getting me a little bored. Here it offers its sweet ambience in compliance to the amber, never overstagging it. The bois d'acajou (mahogany) note listed is something to which I am unfamiliar with, excluding the eponymous limited edion by Etro and furniture of course, but admittedly the composition smells more like a woody oriental to me than an aromatic one.
On the whole, although Belle en Rykiel starts with somewhat of a blast it soon becomes soft and subtly sweet staying close to the skin the way another sensual Lutens scent, Chergui, does or even evoking the baked skin of L de Lolita Lempicka, the whole lasting quite a while.

Would I rush out and buy a bottle? Probably not, because I feel that it is not terribly original to warrant a purchase since I have similar things in my collection already; however it would not disappoint the woman who is tired of fruity florals or overtly foody scents and out to purchase a modern oriental that would never garner comments of it being out of synch with today's sensibilities, yet manage to smell feminine and inviting.

Belle en Rykiel comes in Eau de parfum concentration in 40, 75 and 100ml priced 40, 60 and 75 euros respectively. Available from major department stores in Europe. Soon to be released in the US and rest of the world.

Pic came uncredited to me via email, probably courtesy of Lavazza calendar campaign.

It's the end of the world as we know it (perfume ingredients banned)

The above line from a well-known REM song unfortunately does not leave me feeling fine, like the song repeated time after time again in its refrain. Maybe it has to do with my abhorrence for state intervention of any kind in what I perceive as my consumer’s choice. Maybe it has to do with the prospect of endangered aromas, in the manner of endangered species that is looming in the horizon very shortly. Or maybe, just maybe, I am one of those who safe in their well-arranged existence likes to live precariously through the sensual pleasures that are given us, who knows for how much longer: a vivere pericolosamente mentality of eating medium-rare bovine steak, listening to alternative underground bordering on satanistic some would argue rock with covers that might bruise sensitive feministic sensibilities and -last but not least- using perfumes containing real oakmoss in amounts exceeding the prescribed percentage set by IFRA (the International Fragrance Association) and the EU (European Union).

In view of the whole debacle of oakmoss use as stated in a previous article, I was just about to resign myself to searching for vintage bottles of my favourite chypre perfumes such as Mitsouko, Femme, Bandit and Chanel#19. Not an easy task all the same, as perfume unlike wine does not come with a production year, despite the fact that we perfume-users use the oenological term vintage so often to convey a particularly good aged masterpiece. But it seems oakmoss were to be the least of our troubles.
As Anya McCoy, a talented natural perfumer whom I have interviewed in the past in this venue and the president of the Natural Perfumers Guild, brought to my attention, there is a whole list of ingredients that are about to be eradicated or strictly controlled in the formulae of perfumes produced from now on. The control of the percentage of certain natural ingredients to minute amounts in a given formula might bear no great value in the creation of a new perfume, as it could fuel the imagination of a given nose into composing new wilder arpeggios of unprecedented combinations. It would certainly signify however the destruction and bastardization of several revered masterpieces of the past, rendering them but ghosts of their former glorious shelves leaving a generation that has never smelled the originals with a skewed perception of what greatness really is all about in the olfactory kingdom.

The alphabetical catalogue of those nature-derived aromatics that are restricted follows:
Angelica root oil
Bergamot oil expressed
Bitter Orange Peel Oil Expressed
Cade oil
Cedar moss
Chenopodium oil
Citrus oils and other furocoumarins containing essential oils
Costus root oil, absolute and concrete
Cumin oil
Fig leaf absolute
Grapefruit oil expressed
Lavender
Lemon oil cold pressed
Lime oil expressed
Massoia bark oil
Massoia lactone
Melissa oil (genuine Melissa officinalis)
Oak moss extracts
Opoponax
Peru balsam
Petitgrain Mandarin Oil
Rose oil
Santolina oil
Savin oil
Styrax
Tagetes oil and absolute
Tea leaf absolute
Tree moss extracts
Verbena absolute
Verbena oil

Perusing the list one cannot but drop one’s jaw. Lavender? The quintessential essential oil that is recommended for pacifying even babies? Citrus, bergamot and bitter orange peel oils? Seriously, do they know that here in the Mediterranean we make a dessert out of the inedible bergamot fruit, using exactly the peel of the fruit boiled in syrup made with sugar? We eat the stuff for heaven’s sake. How much more harm could it do if we applied it on our skins? Yes, I am aware that those oils are photosensitizing. Surely a warning label on the box on not wearing it on exposed body parts could serve the purpose of protecting us amply? Not to mention rose oil (whose petals we also use in a dessert….the way I am going you must have formed the impression there’s precious few things we don’t make into desserts….well, it’s true, not counting the IFRA executives in those numbers….)

But the whole scenario would not bring doom futuristic Blade Runner echoes in our ears had it been chosen to just use warning labels on the boxes, stating exactly what the dangers are, so that the consumer can make an informed choice and suffer what consequences he/she has brought upon him/herself through that choice. Much like smoking…..
To cut a long story short, this whole dirty business smells more of money and lost revenues for the companies who produce aroma-chemicals and the law-firms that defend cases of demented “victims” of allegedly dangerous perfumes, than real flower and fruit oils.
It reminds me of the notorious case of an electronic goods company who lost a fortune to someone who was sick enough to microwave his cat and then plead his case in court successfully stating the instructions never warned about not putting an animal in the microwave appliance in the first place…I mean, geez…

If you want to make a difference and want to be vocal on the subject, there is a petition issued by Cropwatch, an independent watchdog for natural ingredients used in perfumery; you can vote against the 40th Amendment of IFRA that restricts those ingredients and make them come into discussion about this practice.
You can do it here



Pic of Tim Burton's "Corpse bride" comes from athinorama.

New perfumes by Francis Kurkdjian : the Indult line

A new ultra luxe niche is being explored by young prolific perfumeur Francis Kurkdjian, famous for his Le Male for Galutier, Narciso For her and Rose Barbare for boutique Guerlain. Indult is an old french word from 1498 signifying the privileges given by the french King or the Pope to esteemed individuals. With the desire to launch something that has comparable exclusivity rights as those bestowed upon by a king, Indulte is comprised by 3 scents that are issued in only 999 bottles each. The ingredients are rare and precious, largely dependant on natural essences, which seemingly is the way to go for trully luxurious fragrances.
No sampling programme is scheduled, to retain exclusivity.

The 3 fragrances will be:
Isvaraya (‘divine’ in hindi): a fruity chypre with jasmin sambac, indian prunes and patchouli
Tihota (‘sugar’ in polynesian): an exotic concoction of fresh vanilla pods and various muscs.
Manakara (deriving from a region in Madagascar famous for its litchis): a fruity rose blend of turkish and bulgarian rose married to succulent litchi


The bottle is an architectural rectangle with a black rounded cap, much like the classic Chanels and it will be encased in a pallisander wood box designed by Etienne de Suza.
The three perfumes come in Eau de parfum concentration in 50ml/1.7oz bottles at 160 euros each. They will be exclusively sold at french Sephora stores (call +33(0)8 92 707070 to find the store nearest you) and Indult site
Please note that for now only the french version works (click on "Entrer" on the left)You may contact +33(0)1 58 18 38 67 to become a member or click on the Membre button to enter your data. A personalised card will be made and then you can order what you want. You can also email them at: contact@indult.fr


Pic of black caviar courtesy of Fauchon. Pic of bottles from osmoz.fr