Ipanema and A la figue by Satellite: fragrance reviews

Sometimes one comes across some special people who are kind, generous, lovely. And on some rare occassions it so happens that those special people are also "perfume people", aromaphiles. I have known a few of those and they have sent me wonderful, rare things to try out, of which I am going to continue reporting in the future for your delectation.
One especially lovely lady known for her tremendous generosity gifted me with an assorted bag of goodies that included two of the new Satellites, I had talked about before: Ipanema and A la figue. She is deeply thanked for the sniffa experience.
So without further ado, my impressions of the two.

Ipanema named after the infamous brazilian beach between Leblon and Arpoador in Rio de Janeiro is imbued in Curacao shades of an endless turqouise, clear like a jewel made of blue topaz. The colour alone is making this enchanting to look at and enticing to put on. The official notes list ylang ylang, orange, grapefruit, freesia, sandalwood, coconut, white flowers, tonka bean, vanilla, sea accord and patchouli.
Now coconut has never been a very favourite perfume note of mine, because of the association I get with those dreaded pine-cardboard things dangling from the mirrors of derelict taxis, swaying their way across the national routes on your way from a rural airport to the point of your vacation destination on a white rock island. For some uncanny reason, most of my similar itineraries have been branded by this same memory, taxi driver always kind and offering tips and quips about the vacation spot to be visited, often also chain-smoking. Yet the permeating coconut scent of the pine decoration diverting my attention. Luckily, this all happened during the summer, when windows are rolled way down, when the nature is simmering under the hot brazing sun and the herbs of the field sing their own Pan-flute tune. The greek paysage smells nothing like coconut, to be sure. This pertains to far more tropical destinations, such as the one invoked by the mention of Brazil and Ipanema, of course. So I can see why the inclusion.
The coconut is quite pronounced which will satisfy people with a craving for the exotic and coupled with copious amounts of ylang ylang it takes the whole into a place of abandon to the sensuality of physical pleasures. You have to make sure that your wax is perfect and your bikini is brazilian-worthy-tiny, or at least cultivate that fantasy in your mind like the best of Heffner wannabes want you to do.
Regardless, the fragrance alone can get you to a place that looks like a technicolour movie of the 50s starring Elvis but underneath the dark mantle of earthy patchouli, as the scent progresses on skin, reminds you that this is the country of the favelas.(for a quick definition click here) A place of a wide divide: between the rich and the poor, the superficial and the meaningful, the facade and the core. Ipanema the fragrance, although not aiming for such meaningful elucidations, is adequatelly bringing the two into the fore.

A la figue, another Satellite new scent, also uses coconut as a fragrance note, although it is not officially mentioned. The playfull name that etches itself on both the figue(french for fig) and the fugue (depart, as in travel or daydreaming I like to imagine)caught my attention and the association of figs is very greek-like to me, as it is often the case that large fig trees are scattered across the fields and yards of properties imbuing the air with their dusty, creamy aroma that promises langorous days of summer, figs consumed after a dip in the big blue sea, washed and peeled under the tree and consumed with wild hunger after the swim, the dark red sticky juice marring hands, lips, caftans over bikins and assorted paraphernalia necessary for a day spent in the great ourdoors. It is no coincidence that L'artisan's Premier Figuier is one of my summer staples, as it evokes all those endearing associations in my mind of which I often partook as a child and even as a grown-up.

Figs have an interesting story behind them. As fig of the genus ficus is translated as "sūkon/syco" in greek, it was the proud export of the land of Attica, the broader land around the city state of Athens. In light of the trade significance of figs, which were prized all around the ancient world for their nourishing and medicinal properties, it was forbidden to pluck them out without licence or to trade them. However, human nature being what it is throughtout the millenia, there were still people who broke the law and took figs, especially from the holy fig trees beside temples, which bore a copious crop. Pretty soon there were people who took it as their task to report those violators, the informers or "sycophantes", deriving from sūkon phainein, to show a fig (sūkon, fig + phainein, to show). Of course, noble as the reporting was at the start, it soon transpired that it might bear a wonderful chance to carry out personal vendettas between enemies: if one hated someone else and had a grudge against them, what easier way to instill harm than to report them as stealing the figs from the trees? And this is where the whole "dicanic" tradition of ancient greece is based on, but this is perhaps the subject of another post.
In Latin times, the word lost its initial meaning, gaining the mantle of "a servile self-seeker who attempts to win favor by flattering influential people" according to Webster's. And thus it entered the english language. Ah, but the fig had its revenge here at last. And what an influential fruit it has been, being also mentioned in the Gospels (mentioned here in reference to Holy Monday) and the proverbial garb of the modest in Paradise.

The creaminess of the initial opening in A la Figue is redolent of the milky sap of actual fig fruit, the way they are a little unripe at first, sqeezed to produce a whitish milk juice that is a skin irritant (you have been warned!). Very soon, the greeness of notes that give an air of leaves and the bark enter, underscored all the while by the slightly vanillic coconut hint of the fruit peel and compliment the whole with their earthy aroma of wood and earth that reminds one of the might fig trees swaying in the wind. In this aspect it is quite close to Premier Figuier, perhaps a little more coconuty. It lasts on the skin sensually with an earthy quality that is classy and succulent and I can see it as great supplement to a summer wardrobe for people who love woody and creamy smells. A wonderful new addition!


Pic of coconut courtesy of oriflame.com, figs by DWSPL/T.Scott from dwpicture.com/au

Bianco by Trussardi: fragrance review

Trussardi launched Bianco, a limited edition fragrance for women by well-known nose Alberto Morillas, last summer in Europe but I only got to try it recently.

"Bianco": italian for white... And oh, how greek the colour white seems to me, nevertheless.
In a land of hot rock and azure sea like no other, white is the emblem of the Aegean houses scattered on the slopes of bare islands, asbestos on the outside, human "fire" burning in the inside.
One island in particular will always remain in my memory as the quintessential white place: Santorini or Thera, as it is also called; the island of legend of Atlantis and reality, intermingled in volcanic eruptions producing black sand, little wineries and archaological digs like no other place on earth.
If you want to feast your eye on white, on the pure kind that reflects the light scorching your retinas, burning your skin and filling your soul with the longing of an ancient whisper flying in the wind, look no further. As the sun dips down in breathtaking beauty tourists from all over the world clap their hands in awe, sitting on cool verandas etched on the edge of the deepest existing caldera on the planet, sipping long drinks in a langorous mood fit for such a slow-paced existence, white linen clothes breezing in the wind.


If you do want to see it immortalised in film, go rent Lara Croft Tomb Raider 2: Cradle of Life or for those more romantically inclined The Sisterhood of the Travelling Pants or Summer Lovers, all shot in part on the white island. Which might give you ideas...
And if you ever, just once in your lifetime, find yourself to be blessed to be able to set foot on this mystical place, invest in this small boutique hotel for VIPs that will remain indelible in your heart of hearts forever. (seriously, just click on the photos...then you tell me)

The new Trussardi perfume does not evoke such gloriousness however, despite its suitability to the sensibilities of a greek lazy summer spent on a small island. Bianco is said to evoke the feeling of Trussardi Skin, a claim that I am not inclined to dispute although the two do not share more than a passing similarity that can be attributed to their skin-like scent and the way they meld on the individual upon application. However Skin is more distinctive, while in Bianco the white musk of the base lingers to the exclusion of all else in the later dry down. The opening is lightly fruity and has a watery floral element that smoothes its way on the skin, to leave behind a hint of a peppery interlay of warmth and cool that soon exits.
The initial grapefruit note is nothing like the tart opening of cheeky upstarts like In love again or Baby Doll, nor the watery ambience of cool egyptian royal attendants of Un Jardin sur le Nil.Here it is temptered and smoothed out to the point that it loses its characteristic tang and bittery rind quality, a fact that could be lamentable. The lasting power of the mid notes is average and while the drydown does present a lingering impression, it is more evident on a blotter than on actual human skin. It is suited to summer in warm climates, but it would wither not blooming its full potential in winter, I'm afraid.
Notes: pink grapefruit, water lily, gooseberry, magnolia, white pepper, woods, amber and musk.

Trussardi Bianco comes in 30 and 75 ml Eau de Toilette, available at european Sephoras.

Pics of Imerovigli in Santorini courtesy of George Meis/eu.art.com

Fahrenheit 32 by Dior: fragrance review

Why was this new men's scent baptised with this weird name? Well, for starters, there was the classic fragrance Fahrenheit by Dior that erupted into the scene in 1988 with all the gusto of an iconoclast along with its female counterpart Dune.
And then, it is exactly 32 degress Fahrenheit that water freezes: equivalent of 0 degrees in the Celsius scale.

This scaling system is quite fascinating if one takes into account another classic of sorts, of a more profound level perhaps: that of the printed word. The dystopian science fiction by Ray Bradbury called "Fahrenheit 451", in which the author describes a future american society that wrapped up in sybaritic living and anti-intellectual tendencies abhors books and goes on to burn them.

The protagonist, Ray Montag, is the very witty antithesis of His Girl Friday of the famous classic era movie, especially since in true german spirit (physicist Daniel Gabriel Fahrenheit was German) "Mondag" means "Monday". And yes, this novel has also been filmed.
Fahrenheit 451 on the other hand is the point of auto-ignition of paper...Semantics, semantics.
For some dark, pessimistic reason I am quite convinced that the state of affairs in the world currently do not distance us too much from this nightmarish Orwellian vision. But perhaps I am digressing.

To revert to the "frozen" aspect of this quite cooler Fahrenheit, mes amis, as you might have surmissed by now, this new offering is what is affectionately called a "flanker": a perfume that follows up the successful anion bearing a variation of the name; yet usually either having nothing whatsoever in common with the genetic pool of the former or alternatively featuring a very slight variation of it, questioning the purpose of its existence apart from the boost that it would bring to the sales of both.
Fahrenheit 32 places itself in the first category. It bears little similarity to the classic fragrance and is intended as a tribute to the synthesized orange blossom that has been explored in men's scent recently also by the wonderful Fleur dy Mâle by Gaultier, reviewed just a little while ago. (click here for full review)
Designed by now former artistic director Heidi Slimane with the collaboration François Demachy it has been concocted by nose Louise Turner of Quest.

The general direction is one of a fresh oriental-woody that intermingles piquant aldehydic touches with orange blossom, light smooth vanilla, and what smells to my nose as delicate synthetic musks. The earthiness and slighty dirty appeal of vetiver does not come to the fore, despite its graceful way of making fragrances cool in every sense of the word.
The description goes like this: fresh top notes, orange blossom and vetiver for the hear nnotes, vanilla and solar notes for the base.
Indeed the freshness is akin to a cooling spray, which is implied by the white bottle that takes the classic one of original Fahrenheit to a new techno trip under strobo lights. It's opalescence and smooth milky texture reminded me a lot of the woman's Pure Poison, which I think is not coincidental, as that too is also based on the same synthesized orange blossom note and delivers itself with a freshness that pierces the nostrils for a while.

Compared to Fleur du Mâle it is not much further apart, yet in a way that one captured me more and retained my interest more avidly. Fahrenheit 32 is very likeable and on the scent strip lingers nicely making one to sniff and resniff to consolidate the memory, but a classical masculine fragrance it can never pose to be. It's again a little too feminine for its own good, which makes it fodder for either adventurous guys or the girlfriends who I am sure will fall under its charms.


Top pic In search of the unicorn by bigbird3/flickr
Pic of fahrenheit 451 by Wikipedia

Michael Kors Island Hawaii: fragrance review

"Pack your bags chicka and let’s get to the tropics!", shouts excitedly the dark haired beau with the bright polo shirt and the suave moves. "South Seas to be exact!" If the promise of a lei and tropical beaches of sugar spun sand and gigantic palm trees moving in the wind weaves a spell on your innermost hedonist and you associate summer pleasures with such paradises then get yourself prepared for a joyful journey to that destination with a prolonged sniff of Michael Kors Island Hawaii.
This is a variation of his more watery Island fragrance that was encased in an aqua bottle of the same heavy square-lined design and is accompanied by another edition called Island Fiji.

Michael Kors has been instrumental in one of the sartorial masterpieces of modern day cinema, for which I will be always grateful: the remake of “The Thomas Crown Affair” (and the original is right up there in my pantheon of pantheons). In it Renee Russo prances around in his prêt-a-porter with much aplomb, all flushed cheeks and coppery hair (it suited her to a T!) exhibiting the kind of clothes we would all want to wear and feel like a million bucks every single day of our existence. It was breathtaking and this is an Yves Saint Laurent enthusiast that is talking to you now. The artwork (since this “scam” is taking place in a gallery and not a bank this time around) didn’t hurt either. But the costumes on both protagonists are perfectly enhancing their enviable bodies. In one memorable scene Renee is going to the Caribbean on a spur of the moment thing, in which dressed in simply a vest and a sarong she looks stunning and oh-so-carefree. Wish I could wake up to look like that every day too!

From then on I paid some closer attention to Mr.Kors and his designs. His advice too with whom he was profuse it seems, garnering column inches in glossy mags such as Allure and In Style. I still remember his advice to always smile and always have a little subtle tan on (I do hope in those ultraviolet-menacing days he means the fake kind) and I figured “now there’s a man of summer mood!” (something which I am not; I mean “of summer mood” of course, in case it was vague…).
Anyway, it was even funnier still when that camp masterpiece of American satire in film “Zoolander” came up with what is the most ingenious caricature of designing to this day embodying both the personae of Gaultier and Kors into the personification of Mugatu/Will Ferell making for hilarious results.
Click here to see a sample:

Kors had my sympathy still.

And so when his perfumes came out and became available where I live I gave them the proper time of day.
His original Michael is a tuberose symphony that is heard loud and clear as if you put Wagner into the stereophonic installation of a big car with windows rolled down, coming up from streets ahead, loud bass swamping everything across its way. It was lovely, magnificent, but so potent that it had me seriously questioning whether anyone could sustain so much of a good thing.
His other creation Kors was featuring a port note that to my nose was very welcome and it shall be included in upcoming posts of a different nature altogether that pertain more to the sommelier than the parfumeur (hopefully I have thus intrigued you!).
And then came Island which to me was pleasant, but not too much note-worthy. A decant saw me through last summer and that was that.
Imagine my surprise when I saw the very same bottle encased in bright vermillon on the shelves of Sephora tagged Island Hawaii. The brightness of the colour was beckoning like a light in the sea. A sign of coming to it or to avoid it? The doubt is only really answered when one sniffs and then lives to tell the tale.
And so I did.

The initial burst of very tart and sweet fruits in the guise of clementines and oranges was irresistible and although these are fruits that do not pass my lips in any shape or form I do enjoy smelling their delicious rind aroma in perfumes. It was mouthwatering and despite the much despised “fruity” tag they captured my attention right away.
Right after this a phase of slight soapiness segues in milled in jasmine and neroli which exude a lovely latheriness like emerging sprite-like from a blue lagoon of crystal clear waters. Hydroponic pineapple is a fancy word for a watery synthesized pineapple note that is not too apparent to my nose (certainly not like in Maitre Parfumer et Gantier’s Bahiana) but the lusciousness of the juicy fruit is continuing madly seducing me into getting a frilly cocktail with little paper umbrellas (so not me, the straight vodka and red wine consuming type I could scream!). Yet it is indeed lovely and I can’t hide the fact. It carries the tropical flowers torch from Michael original scent but with much more playfulness and gusto.
As the scent dries down, it retains much of the orange tone of the original impression with jasmine overlays that are married to a little amber that accounts for warmth and nice longevity on the skin.

In comparison Island Fiji is much closer to the plainly named aqua Island and to my nose a tad inferior. But if bent you need to test for yourself to ascertain.


The press release has this to offer:
"Developed jointly by International Flavors & Fragrances and Trudi Loren, vice president of corporate fragrance development worldwide for Aramis and Designer Fragrances, the fragrance breaks down as follows:

TOP NOTES: clementine, juicy orange, hydroponic pineapple & neroli
HEART: orange flower, jasmine sambac & Hawaiian ginger lily
DRYDOWN: white amber, creamy sandalwood & balsamic notes"

I am so getting a bottle of this!

Available at major department stores and Sephora (60$ for 1.7oz/50ml)

Artwork Hawaiian Pin Up girl 1949 by Al Moore courtesy of allposters.com
Bottle pic from Kors advertising campaign.
Clip uploaded by LPAS

Happy Mother's day!

My own beautiful, tender, loving mother used to love two perfumes: Cabochard by madame Gres and Dioressence by Christian Dior. She loved the exoticism, the mystery, the sillage, everything they entailed. And as my childhood was spent in close company to my mother and her many talented ways, those two have left an indelible print on the tracks of my mind. Despite the assertive character of those "barbare" scents, my mother was anything but and the juxtaposition only made the impression stronger, more fortissimo.
The memory of the sensual and yet reassuring way she smelled has me left with a desire to transfer this kind of olfactory fingerprint to my offspring some day as well: when I am long gone they will perhaps reminiscence about their mother in lacquered images of spicy Opium and think just how it was ingrained in my personality and aura.

Sadly, the perfumes posing as Cabochard and Dioressence today do not reflect but a mere spectre of the magnificence of the vintages that she used to wore all those years ago. The vagaries of fashion and the shortcomings of the industry have managed to ruin one of my most precious memories...

However to those of you who celebrate today (and you must be many!many wishes to you all) I can only wish that the olfactory visage of a loved one will stay with you for ever, as did my beloved mum's.




Pics courtesy of Parfum de pub.