Winter Amber Splash by Marc Jacobs: fragrance review

It is not seldom that something is misnamed in the world of perfume. Where shall I start? Angel, that dervish of a scent that has nothing to do with seraphic affinities? Youth Dew, that quintessential in the calculated arsenal of a mature woman that depending on her guiles can be interpreted as either too good or too bad? Fragile, surely not as fragile and subtle as you might deduce...Passage d'enfer with its cool soapy tone that belies its "passage through hell" name? (for a more detailed explanation on the name click here and scroll down). It is not easy to come up with a fitting name as we discussed on another occassion (click here).

And Winter Amber in the Splash series by Marc Jacobs is another one following the tradition of misnomers, luckily. Usually it is referred to simply as Amber and it was a limited edition anyway (along with their Ivy and Violet), so it is of no consequence for the upcoming generations in this fickle world of scent; but here at Perfume Shrine we like to hold on to things that caught our fancy regardless.
Luckily, I repeat, for me, because heavy ambers destined for an arctic winter do not make themselves approachable enough or suited to my sunnier surroundings; and I have to wait for the dead of winter to bring out the really heavy guns. Or sometimes, as is the case with Ambre Sultan, not bring them out at all, as they prove to be too condensed, too impenetrable and husky for me to crack their secrets and bring them to a climax. People who can actually manage those things are probably just as well left with those options and should consider themselves blessed.

On the contrary, this lucid, diaphanous amber lends itself to still warm early autumnal weather, weaving powdery aspects and rounded effulgent clean accords, softly glowing like an old silver-mounded honey coloured fossil trapping inside it a few precious drops of spicy forest honey. Cosy and velvety, whispery, it has the same soft quality that appears in Jo Malone's Amber and Lavender, without the latter's herbaceous edge.

Official notes:
Top Notes of Crystallised Ginger & Star Anise.
Heart Notes of Amber, Lys and Cassia Bark.
Base Notes of Cashmere Wood & Benzoin

If you dream of the Eagles lyrics below, this is the amber to take you into autumn.

I like the way your sparkling earrings lay,
against your skin so brown
and I wanna sleep with you
in the desert tonight
with a billion stars all around
’cause I gotta peaceful easy feeling
and I know you won’t let me down
’cause I’m already standing on the
ground
And I found out a long time ago
what a woman can do to […]

Its only drawback? The austere ginormous bottle that will last you a lifetime. Oh well, they're meant to be used all over...
Available at Nordstorm. $65.00 for 10oz/300ml of eau de toilette spray.



Next to be reviewed:

Prada Infusion d'Iris and Iris Ganache by Guerlain along with other exciting features. Stay tuned!

Pic of bottle courtesy of Nordstorm site.

Midnight Poison by Christian Dior: the clock strikes twelve

My subtitle might remind you of a great classic Blue Oyster Cult song, Astronomy and Parfums Christian Dior might be privy to the fact that it has awesome lyrics(click the link to read) able to convey poignant images.
And so Christian Dior proceeded with yet another Poison in the illustrious line, this time named Midnight Poison.

Among perfume circles the fragrances following the original Poison are usually snubbed. Conceived by nose Edouard Flechier in 1985, encased in a flacon the colour of bruise and with a name to entice you to bite the ordoriferous yet faulty apple in the enchanted forest, the original Poison acted as a hand grenade for the nostrils of unsuspecting passerbys, who were too often anaesthetized by the penetrating aroma of this mysky, fruity and oriental concoction. A great thing, despite appearences and the only person I met who wore it well was my dear mother. Probably because she only dabbed two drops behind each ear.

The following versions, Tendre Poison from the early 90s, a greener floral highlightining freesia, and the quite recent Pure Poison with its synthetic orange blossom opening on a bed of musk are fairly tame in comparison. Hypnotic Poison by nose Annick Menardo from 1998, a tripy almondy gourmand, has -for the amove mentioned reasons- its own fans and escapes criticism relatively unscathed.

However this new Midnight Poison has the most gorgeous commercial imaginable and Perfume Shrine considers it its duty to bring those things to you.
So here it is for your delectation:




Directed by Wong Kar-Wai and featuring the wonderful actress Eva Green (Vesper in Casino Royal but also famous due to Bertolucci's film The Dreamers and Ridley Scott's Kingdom of Heaven), it is stylistically superb, if a little gothic-looking. To which Perfume Shrine is not averse to, it might be noted. Of course the hanging from the chandelier puts a playful spin on this, so I guess it is not as gothic as it could be; let's say Tim Burton on a Mars Attacks budget.
References to the Cinderella fairy tale are evident in the depiction of a gigantic Dior clock that is about to chime midnight, the heroine running to the great "palace" to be in time, as well as the shot of the black ankle lace-up boots that adorn Eva's dainty feet. And as the countdown to 12 begins, we see Eva reveal a different self; a self that is brought about by wearing the new Dior fragrance, we infer, as drops of rain -or is it moondrops bursting?- are falling over her porcelain skin and raven black hair...

The song is Space Dementia by Muse, which I am taking the chance to remind you was the group whose song was chosen for the Insolence by Guerlain commercial featuring Hillary Swank. For some reason the line "You make me sick" indeed has a weird overtone in relation to perfume, but of course the whole concept of Poison was to assert itself agressively to the one smelling it, alluding to a dangerous sexuality that is confident in its choices.

What's left is the glorious midnight blue of the couture dress, the mysterious looking bottle, the majestic surroundings and a gorgeous campaign that should be met with an equally daring aroma "like acid and oil on a madman's face".

As to the latter I divert you to this perfume review by Cognoscented.

Clip by Youtube uploaded by museabusedotcom, pics courtesy of Dior campaign

I just might have to take it back…

Remember when Perfume Shrine was the first one to report on the new Chanel ad campaign for Coco Mademoiselle featuring Keira Knightley? It was the first one to meow about it too.
Much as I hate to do it, I might have to take it back (well, only part of it, as there is no love lost between me and ms.Knightley) and eat humble pie, as I came across the videos and making of of the new campaign and I have to admit it is looking much better than expected and actually has a cool edge to it! Rather like a F.Scott Fitzerald heroine, Keira bobs her hair and dons 20s style dresses with especially cool jewels adorning her lithe physique.
Of course Chanel has always paid great attention to its commercials and it shows, but it's nice to see that they are not abandoning the tradition. Especially after letting go of Kate Moss, who to Jacques Polges was a great choice for the representation of Coco Mademoiselle. And with a surname to beat all others in the realm of fragrance to boot. But fashion isn't anything if not fickle. (You can however click here and here for great nostalgic pics of the campaign with Moss).

There are two clips in rotation with the same song, by two different artists.

The Joss Stone version



And the original Nat King Cole version



And on top of that there is this clip that features some great shots from the campaign and of the wonderful jewels, albeit scored by a completely different premise of city. Ah well...


Chanel had the good sense to set up a new site just for the occassion and I urge you to explore it. Click here for lots of fun!

And to top it all, Chanel have launched new products in the Coco Mademoiselle line, available through their official site, such as the elegant limited edition gold compact of solid perfume depicted above (120$) and a 7.5ml/0.25oz solid white flacon for the purse of pure parfum/extrait(100$).

Can't wait to see the commercials running on my TV screen. Will hold definite judgment till then.

Clips from keiraweb.com and uploaded by Knightleyfan, pics from Chanel official site and okadi.

Autumnal Shift

I'm very much afraid that the coming of autumn is given over to the Greek calendars. For those unfamiliar with this expression it is used to mean that something is never going to happen at all, as Greek calendars never existed, in contrast to the Roman ones, which did.
And what is the reason for this ominous and pessimistic declaration? But the difficulty of rotating fragrances in a fragrance wardrobe according to season in this crazy global warming environment.

The transition from summer to autumn in terms of perfume choosing is not an easy one, especially given that nowadays this is mostly an issue of calendar advancement than actual weather change. The warmth and incadescence of autumnal perfumes lends itself to cooler temperatures, "seasons of mists and mellow fruitfulness" to quote Keats. And alas it's tardy. And expected to be for quite a while still in our part of the world.

Personally autumn has always been my favourite time of the year. The rush of the beginning of the academic season managed to fill me with new hope even as a student, despite the fact that it meant the end of long summer vacation. It wasn't that it was the beginning of lessons, so much as the rejoining of old friends and the aftertaste of those languid summer days spent at the beach that left skin baked and memories of blissful indolent and idle existence aplenty to last for months. Autumn was and still is the beginning of the year for me.

However, as the indian summer persists well into November nowadays, my hankering for "mists and mellow fruitfuless" is left unsatisfied. My Mitsouko and Opium get anxious to make a grand appearence from their confines, only to be met with another hot dawn that promises to melt away at the edges of reason by noon. Other perfumes are even more shy: Angelique Encens, Fumerie Turque, Rykiel Woman, Boucheron femme, Rochas Femme, Ambra del Nepal, La Myrrhe, to name but a few. They all demand sturdy fabrics, angora or cashmere sweaters and black leather boots tightly encasing jambes d'une nature farouche. Les jambes, you see....they cannot be farouche (=ferocious) in the heat of summer. They mostly drag themselves along...

And so with the onerous duty ahead of me I must get down to sorting out my autumn collection without the actual capability of wearing those tantalising siren-singing scents that beckon me. Not yet, not yet...

And you, what are you longing to bring out of the mothballs? Give us pointers!

In the meantime I am leaving you with John Keats'(1795-1821) Ode to Autumn:

627. To Autumn

SEASON of mists and mellow fruitfulness!
Close bosom-friend of the maturing sun;
Conspiring with him how to load and bless
With fruit the vines that round the thatch-eaves run;
To bend with apples the moss'd cottage-trees,
And fill all fruit with ripeness to the core;
To swell the gourd, and plump the hazel shells
With a sweet kernel; to set budding more,
And still more, later flowers for the bees,
Until they think warm days will never cease,
For Summer has o'er-brimm'd their clammy cells.

Who hath not seen thee oft amid thy store?
Sometimes whoever seeks abroad may find
Thee sitting careless on a granary floor,
Thy hair soft-lifted by the winnowing wind;
Or on a half-reap'd furrow sound asleep,
Drowsed with the fume of poppies, while thy hook
Spares the next swath and all its twinèd flowers;
And sometimes like a gleaner thou dost keep
Steady thy laden head across a brook;
Or by a cider-press, with patient look,
Thou watchest the last oozings hours by hours.

Where are the songs of Spring? Ay, where are they?
Think not of them, thou hast thy music too,—
While barrèd clouds bloom the soft-dying day,
And touch the stubble-plains with rosy hue;
Then in a wailful choir the small gnats mourn
Among the river sallows, borne aloft
Or sinking as the light wind lives or dies;
And full-grown lambs loud bleat from hilly bourn;
Hedge-crickets sing; and now with treble soft
The redbreast whistles from a garden-croft;
And gathering swallows twitter in the skies.

Next reviewwill occupy itself with an amber that can actually lend itself nicely to still warm weather.


Poem courtesy of bartleby.com. Pic of grape-cutters originally uploaded by Parisbreakfast

Sarrasins by Serge Lutens: perfume review

~by guest writer Carmencanada

It is rumoured that soon Serge Lutens will relinquinsh the aromatic business and focus on his makeup line, hence the title of the review. Enjoy!


OVERTURE TO A SWANSONG

A la Nuit, launched in 2000, seemed so definitive a rendition that it was described on the Makeup Alley forum by Tania Sanchez (co-author, with Luca Turin, of a perfume guide to be published in 2008), as “death by jasmine”? It would seem as though Lutens had an afterthought about the way in which this headiest of the heady white flower notes could be treated. And why not? If it weren’t for the simultaneous release of Louve in the export line, itself a tamer reworking of the non-export 1998 Rahät Loukhoum, the issue of Lutens’s inspiration, now that his partner-in-composition Christopher Sheldrake has gone on to assist Jacques Polge at Chanel, wouldn’t be so worrisome. But, though Sheldrake is said to be pursuing his work with Lutens, there seems to be something seriously amiss in this pioneering, uncompromising, profoundly idiosyncratic house.

Sarrasins is quite a lovely scent, actually. First word on it alluded to a more saturated version of The Different Company’s Jasmin de Nuit, a spice-laced, transparent jasmine with notes of cardamom, star anise and cinnamon. And that seemed like a logical step for Lutens: to wed the soliflore to the spices he has been exploring in his recent, export-line Chypre Rouge and Rousse, as well as in the non-export Mandarine Mandarin.

But spices are never more than alluded to – the sweaty pong of cumin, perhaps, or the cold-hot burst of cardamom, clutched to death in jasmine’s cloying embrace. Sarrasins is essentially a big jasmine embellished by animalic notes – this is how the Lutens sales assistants characterize it when asked in which way it differs from A la Nuit. An extremely tantalizing, Dzing-like, dirty-salty whiff of the feline – civet, said the SA when I mentioned it – creeps out after a few minutes on the skin. Some ten minutes later, it is joined by musk, both the softer version developed in Clair de Musc and the skankier one that made the barbaric, iconic Muscs Kublaï Khan the king of the animal fragrances. But this hint of the feral never goes beyond the whiff; jasmine’s indolic leanings towards the shithouse, which should be exasperated by the claimed adjunction of a civet-like compound, are never assuaged. The big cat is shooed out by a note that could only be described as slightly petrol-like – characteristic of jasmine-saturated compositions like Joy – and that could be the “ink” note alluded to in the press release. The deep purple tint of the juice itself, perhaps a tribute to Arabic calligraphy, emphasizes the reference. But it doesn’t seem quite enough to do to jasmine what the ground-breaking Tubéreuse Criminelle did for its namesake flower: snatch the camphor-menthol notes of the tuberose absolute and push them to the fore in a jarringly seductive assault on the nose. The very knowledgeable perfume historian Octavian Sever Coifan, in his 1000 fragrances blog, states that he distinctly recognizes the same “very nice jasmine base” in Sarrasins than in other recent launches.

Granted, not all of the Lutens-Sheldrake compositions have been shockers: Fleurs de Citronnier, Clair de Musc, Santal Blanc, Daim Blond, to name a few, all conceived for the more commercial export line, are fairly tame, unlike the Palais-Royal exclusives and their flamboyant baroque style. The principle of Lutens’s most spectacular achievements was to exacerbate a note’s characteristics – the camphor in tuberose, the cold earthiness of iris, the dustiness of patchouli, the bitterness of oak, the piss-like ammonia of honey – until they nearly toppled over into ugliness. The Lutens wear you, rather than you wear them. They exist entirely on their own terms: like the mythical palace he is said to be eternally embellishing in Marrakech, and which almost no-one has seen (or had seen the last time I was in Morocco), they exude solipcistic aloofness. Olfactory exercises in the re-creation of a vanished Oriental realm, they are cruel genies in a bottle, hard to conquer – as American aficionados have long and bitterly complained of – and not rewarding to all.

Now it seems that Lutens, retreating further into the rarefied atmosphere of this realm, is unable to send his stately decrees all the way to the Palais-Royal. They reach us muffled, like afterthoughts – Gris Clair of Encens et Lavande, Louve of Rahät Loukhoum and now, in a puzzling reversal of the export/exclusive interplay, Sarrasins of A la Nuit...

Perhaps Serge Lutens feels that he has said all he had to say in his “chemical poems” (to quote Luca Turin’s beautiful expression). Perhaps the rumours are true, and he will soon conclude his masterful opus. Let’s just hope that his swansong is more definitive than the delicious, but not irreplaceable Sarrasins.

Pic of calligraphy by Iranian artist Hassan Massoudy with the caption "Don't spend two words if one is sufficient for you." (Arab proverb). It comes from perso.orange.fr