The Dior chypre series ~Eau Fraiche: fragrance review

One might think that unisex or “shared” fragrances, like DNA remnants on a TV show that focuses on forensics, can be traced back to CK One and the 1990s. That one would be much mistaken. Almost every house of perfumery and many small artisanal local parfumeries in Mediterranean countries, notably Italy and France, brandished their own recipe of eau de cologne for cooling down on hot days and refreshing after a bath in the not so distant past. For parfums Christian Dior that emblematic scent could have been Eau Fraîche.

Well before the time women usurped Eau Sauvage for their own use thus catapulting the last masculine bastion, Eau Fraîche could have been shared between both sexes as early as 1953 reversing the situation: a woman’s perfume that can be worn by males. The advertisments from 1957 showed two hands, one male the other female, stretching to clasp the bottle suggesting its vague intent to appeal to both.

Eau Fraîche drew upon a rich tradition that had been semi-forgotten during the first half of the 20th century, when marketing decided that separate smells should appeal to different genders. On the contrary, it harkens back to the times of the first Eaux de Cologne, like 4711 or less well known exempla Hungary Water and Florida Water. These interpretations of the basic concept of a refreshing alcoholic splash utilised hesperidic top notes evaporating at a zingy pace, along with refreshing herbs and light woods or musk for a little tenacity. Purpotedly Hungary Water served the Queen of Hungary, from which the name derives, really well: she was said to have found a young husband in her very advanced age! I don’t know if it can be attributed to the Water’s miraculous qualities, although everyone with a sceptic bone in their bodies would think not; still it was widely believed that the essenses used in those refreshing toners were beneficial to body and spirit. And aromatherpeutically speaking, so they are.

However 1953 was perhaps too early for unisex smells and women were priviliged to add a fresher chypre to their collections, almost two decades before Diorella became the definitive fresh smell for Dior fans. In its rounded flask bottle by Guerry Colas, Eau Fraîche is another in the series to adorn the shelf besides Miss Dior, Diorama and Diorissimo. Notice the almost rattan feel of the sides, suggesting a summery vacation at the Côte d'Azur.

Eau Fraîche begins on a citrus and mandarin burst of juicy freshness with an astrigent appeal. Mandarin lends a little sweetness to the proceedings, due to its less shrill odour profile compared to lemon. Yet they cannot be mistaken for the citrusy fruity fragrances of today, as murky oakmoss surfaces almost simulstaneously giving a chypré feel. Its creator, Edmond Roudnitska, eminent chypre creator knew a thing or two about using it as the perfect backdrop to notes of clarity and translucence.
This oakmoss base is like the background buzz and scratches on an old vinyl taking rounds on an old set: you know digital is so much better, yet you feel a strange nostalgia for something that either irritated you when you were actually using it or which you have never known, simply because you are a child of the 1990s. Oakmoss can lend a subversive mantle to anything with its musty yet sensual feel and if you have ever smelled the ingredient in its raw state you know what I am talking about. In this regard, Eau Fraîche features it rather heavily and it is immediately apparent; a trait that would drive away many of the people who are averse to chypres.

I could perhaps discern its heritage to Caron’s Eaux series. Some of them have a similarly chypré accord which sets them apart from their cousins that pose on shelfs in department stores, all dolled up in their fruity colourful rinds.
To a lesser degree one can also discern a comparable feel in Bulgari Eau parfumée au Thé Vert, a scent that was also aimed at both sexes, well ahead of CK One. A scent that has a smoked wood autumnal feel to it despite the limpid shade of the frosted bottle that would inspire one to use it in a heatwave.

Eau Fraîche also includes rosewood, heavy in suave linalool, and a subtle vanillic touch that rounds it out beautifully. A fragrance for bien-être dans sa peau, as the French use to say: feel good in your skin. A fragrance suggesting laid-back style and insouciance like the 1971 advertisment depicted above shows in such few strokes.
Men as well as women would be strongly adviced not to miss this little-known refined gem.


The Dior Chypres series is not over yet: stay tuned!

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Dior sketch ads: how lovely!

How can an obituary be glamorous? Or related to scent barring the mental connection with funeral flowers? Well, it can, if it involves René Gruau, chief visualiser and illustrator for parfums Christian Dior.
Here is his obuitary from the Guardian:

"René Gruau (Count Renato Zavagli Ricciardelli delle Camminate), graphic artist, born February 4 1909; died March 31 2004" (from the Guardian 15 April 2004)

Guardian obituaries

It says so little...In fact it was exactly Gruau that persuaded Dior to accept the offer of textile magnate Marcel Boussac to help establish a fashion house. After all not many know that Christian Dior began as an illustrator himself. The rest is of course history.

Born in Rimini, Italy, in 1910 as Renato Conte de Savagli-Ricardelli, he had a French mother, Marie Gruau, who was known as a great beauty and must surely be held responsible for providing the son with his first glimpse of beauty that culminated in his vision and aesthetic explorations.

Interestingly he borrowed his mother's name, of which he used "G" for a signature, visible on his sketches for Dior, surmounted by what seems to be a star based on an ink-splash (later he put this symbol on his Rolls-Royce, of all things!)
Using a heavier charcoal outline or thick paint brush was his signature look at an era that preferred watercolours and delicate delineations. It was his modernity that differentiated him and which was a companion till the very end, making his work seem current even today in a world that has practically seen everything.
Apart from Dior he also did illustrations for Balmain, Lanvin, Schiaparelli and his favourite, Balenciaga. He was also instrumental in trying to give a younger image to Givenchy couture. Not to forget his work for films (who can forget his "La Dolce Vita" or "French CanCan" art posters?)and for "glossies": Flair, Vogue and Harper's Bazaar. His provision for Moulin Rouge and Lido remind us of another famous artist of posters with arguably low subjects turned into high art: Toulouse-Lautrec.
But his work for Dior parfums is crystallised someplace in the best part of perfume lovers' mind.

We can see in this not often referenced pic of the first three Dior fragrances that the three perfumes look to be embodients of three "sisters", dressed in comparable fashions: the outlines of the bodies hidden beneath meters of cloth, their heads clothed in loose hoods. The choice of rose, black and white seems to be characteristic of Gruau's palette, even to the modern day. Here they represent different olfactory profiles. It would be interesting to guess which is which! Of course the easiest one would be to attribute white to Diorissimo, it being a more virginal lily of the valley scent (although, not quite!). But which is Miss Dior and which Diorama? Therein lies the charm.

"Some of his artworks were what we now call "brand images" - the pearl-necklaced swan he dreamed up for Miss Dior perfume after Dior gave him a whiff and a briefing" (quote from the Guardian article above). Here it is from 1950. A true classic, just like a string of lustruous pearls on a delicate lily throat.

However apart from vulnerability, there is also the hint of the animalistic in Miss Dior that is so evocatively suggested in this 1949 advertisement: a woman's hand resting on a leopard's paw. The long fingers of a pale feminine hand resting on the spotted fur. Elegance and ferociousness rolled into one burst of olfactory mirth; like the glorious parfum itself!

In 1950 he draw an image of a woman almost melting into a what seems like a giant white lotus flower in a pool of black ink. It also vaguely reminds us of the pon-pon of dusting powder; which is not averse to the dry feel of chypré perfumes, of which Diorama {click here for review} and Miss Dior are great examples, for which the ad was conceived (it run for both).
Gloriously simple, gloriously evocative.

The elegant sweep of his intense brushstrokes can be seen in this Dior Dior advertisement from 1978. The black "ribbon" both delineates the dress (witness the sleeve and the drape of the cloth sketched in a sweep) and his signature. I call this an apotheosis of design calligraphy. Don't you?

Diorella always had the air of independence and élan that is so characteristic to the French parfum du jour. We might as well mention here that although France is considered to be the olfactory capital of the world, this by no means equals heavy bombastic perfumes being considered bon chic bon genre for the day. It is much more elegant to save the romantic and seductive potions for the night, the opera and the ballet or the club than for the errands of the day. For those instances classy BCBG Parisians opt for something light and zingy, like Diorella. {click here for review} And which image denotes an active woman off to town better than this one, pants and boots encasing dynamic gams, sketched by Gruau?

"He limned sexy gentlemen's limbs for the men's range Eau Sauvage far into the 1980s" (quote from the Guardian article above). And what an intriguing idea this is! It hints at both mystery (the hidden torso and face) as well as virility (the hairy legs). This came out in 1966. They just don't make them like this anymore... On a subsequent image from 1970 (interesting to note that by then the sexual revolution was in full swing), the white bathrobe is substituted by a piece of furry hide that plays upon the "sauvage" (=wild) connotation.
Less intriguing than the previous incarnation, but just as playful.

"Perhaps this latter image would befit the 1980s flanker Eau Sauvage Extreme to a T, in its black opaque bottle and ferocious name. The white bathrobe however wasn't abandonded, resurfacing again in 1971, 1977 and 1978. Some things are just too good to let go!

A great artist and a witty man, to be sure.



If I have persuaded you to take an interest in this artist's work, take a moment to revel in these glorious fashion sketches....

We will continue with the Dior chypres shortly. Stay tuned!

Pics from artnet, operagloves and okadi

We have a winner- and a little teasing...

The Black Widow decant winner of the lucky draw announced is Lillie/Nina!
Soon a little package will be crawling its way to you. Enjoy!

To my other readers:
Please check back later on for a fun post on Dior. Coming your way soon!!

The Dior Chypres series ~Diorella: fragrance review

Everyone has an aunt that used to bathe in cold water regardless of it being winter or summer, slip on her bathing suit first thing in the morning and go for an invogorating swim on the first sign of warm weather in mid-spring. She wore long masculine white shirts for summer errands and shopping for gigantic prawns for lunch; often without anything else beneath them but her already salty swimsuit and with matching white plimsolls on her slim feet. She left the salt from the sea on her skin all day long till the evening bath to tone it, make it firmer and washed her hair with rain water ~when she could get it. Those tips were divulged to you in passing: laughter and joyous munching on summery peaches, juice dribbling down her jaw while she was solving crosswords at the veranda; long legs sprawled over another chair, her metallic-frame reading glasses on her long nose. And “what is the word that is both a machine and a mystery? Has 6 letters”. You scratched your little head for it, for it was your favourite aunt. She had never married and people wondered if she had any boyfriends. Did she? You never got to know until it was too late. Her cold bathing didn’t help along with her illness, of which she got alerted rather too late. All the joyfull memorabilia of those summers long ago came into your mind with a frenzying velocity to overwhelm you. And what tears you wept… She could have been wearing Diorella all those summers ago. It wasn’t important; she never showed any signs of self-indulgence and perfume might seem like one.

But her scent could be Diorella. It was in 1972 when this chypre came out. Composed from a rather short formula by Edmond Roudnitska, it came as a female counterpart to his extremely successful Eau Sauvage: the masculine cologne that proved to be the most shared scent between the sexes in the 20th century. The heads at Dior soon saw that women who grabbed this magnificent, vivacious specimen from their boyfriends’ bathrooms would want a comparable fragrance to claim their own. And so Diorella was born exactly 6 years later, smelling as fresh as tomorrow. Roudnitska said about Diorella that it was his proudest creation and that it was the perfect compliment to the environment around his house and garden; he interestingly also said that it derived from Roudnitska's previous 1953 Eau Fraîche, not Eau Sauvage. In Diorella he summarised all the good refined things about spartan style he had come to master in his box of tricks. Rather, he had dispensed with the tricks by now and focused on pure, unadulterated essence.

Despite the joyful character of Diorella’s herbal opening (echoing the aromatic top of basil and bergamot of Eau Sauvage) and the zing of snapped leaves from a lemon tree that might remind you of O de Lancome (1969), Diorella is more serious than that. I also smell a touch of galbanum, a strong green note that was mainly explored in Germaine Cellier’s Vent Vert for Balmain (much more evident in the vintage version than the reformulated one by Calice Becker) which gives another layer of verdancy. And there is a touch of mandarin it seems (or is it?) with a synthetic melon accord to further consolidate the idea that was fist explored in Le Parfum de Thèrese; an iconoclastic idea at the time, giving an aqueous feel.

There is again the familiar theme of peach that Roudnitska explored in both Rochas Femme and Diorella, but here it is done in such a ligh manner as to not blunt the axe into fruit confits. Its subtle warmth enrobs a fresh jasmine note (probably the same dihydrojasmonate/ hedione isolated from the absolute that he used in Eau Sauvage). There is a magical translucence to it like sipping cold tangy juice from a crystal glass on a hot day. A very subtle sweetness reminds one of honeysuckle vines climbing on a metal fence, as if smelled from a distance. Later on there is a little powdery mossy ambience that slowly suggests a more autumnal mood, a secret that contrasts with the dazzling hesperides and fruits of the beginning. To every dawn there is twilight and those notes provide the backdrop to it. Maybe that was what prompted Susan Irvine to proclaim of it:

“Mysterious, it’s a Mona Lisa among scents”.

It might be interesting to compare notes with Eau Sauvage and Eau Fraiche de Dior:
Notes for Diorella:
Lemon, basil, bergamot, melon, green note
Peach, honeysuckle, jasmine, rose, cyclamen
Oakmoss, vetiver, patchouli, musk

Notes for Eau Sauvage:
Lemon, basil, bergamot, petitgrain, cumin
Hedione, lavender, patchouli, carnation, coriander, orris, sandalwood
Oakmoss, vetiver, amber

Notes for Eau Fraîche de Dior (vintage):

Bergamot, lemon, mandarin, orange, green notes

Rosewood

Oakmoss, vanilla


And “what is the word that is both a machine and a mystery? Has 6 letters”. You scratched your little head for it, for it was your favourite aunt. She had never married and people wondered if she had any boyfriends. Did she? The word, dear aunt, was enigma. You.


Diorella is available at most department stores carrying Dior perfumes. It only comes in eau de toilette and there are no major differences between different vintages to my knowledge.


Next post will tackle a fun side of Dior!

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The Dior Chypres series ~Diorling: fragrance review

If Diorama is synonymous to a classical goddess, then Diorling is fit for a dark Rennaisance angel. This supremely elegant "leather chypre" that saw the light of the day in 1963 is one of the rare beauties that have such smooth contours, so velvety a sheen as to render the leather note a tender caress on a very expensive handbag of an austere design resting atop a soft feminine lap while waiting for a rendez-vous a deux; a handsome beau bringing flowers hidden behind his back.

Diorling was created by Paul Vacher, the nose that is officially credited with the creation of Miss Dior, that classic of classics for the house of Christian Dior, in a French attempt at "English refinement". 
In the case of Miss Dior it has been inferred that its formula was based on a concept by Jean Carles (the man behind Tabu and Ma Griffe) and the extrait de parfum was further assisted by the great Edmond Roudnitska. In Diorling there is no data to support a hypothesis that the perfume was aided by either man’s expertise. It is therefore interesting to examine what sources Vacher drew his inspiration from.

One could trace the lineage of Diorling in such formidable leathery scents such as Cuir de Russie (1924), Bandit (1944), Jolie Madame (1953), or Cabochard (1959). Diorling offers the relatively harsh but restrained opening of bitch tar coupled with bergamot and what seems like bitter orange without the bracing, almost bitter aromatic top of Jolie Madame, the acid green of the quinolines in Bandit or the bracken & whip of Cabochard ~ which make for challenging compositions that seem demanding like an ancient Greek cthonian deity or a creation of Paula Rego.

On the contrary, Diorling weaves its sexy, dry, leathery note smoothly throughout the duration of the fragrance on the skin revealing flowers of an incomparable beauty and luminosity: the clean note of hydroxicitronellal, which echoes the headiness of muguet/lily of the valley, and light, airy jasmine with no real indolic dirtiness. Although rose is part of the bouquet garni of Diorling, I perceive no evident trace of its lushful personality as it is hidden behind the backdrop of dryness and classical symmetry; two traits which put it firmly in my heart of hearts. As the scent slowly dries down a stream of patchouli and earthy vetiver come to the fore elegantly and quietly to position the whole into the realm of chypre. This chypre however has neither the intensely floral animal naughtiness of Miss Dior nor the opulent fruitiness and floralcy of Diorama {click for review} which draw contrasts of chiaroscuro. Diorling puts its spell through the equilibrium of a delicate pendulum that never veers from its well-ordained course.

Nota bene: The above review pertains to the vintage edition of Diorling, which is also the best. There is a newer bottle in 125ml eau de toilette with houndstooth label available from Paris Dior boutique which is lighter and with less intense animalic components (circulating in the late 2000s).
Then there is a 2012 "modernised" version of Diorling joining the perfume line Les Creations de Mr.Dior on 30th January 2012, comprising notes of Calabrian bergamot, Egyptian jasmine, patchouli and leather. This one bears the characteristic design of the newer Dior bottles with the silver "mock thread" around the neck of the bottle in sizes of 100ml.


Boutique Dior is located at 28-30 Avenue Montaigne, 75008 Paris. Fax number to order: 00 33 1 40 73 57 95. Also available at time of writing at Le Bon Marché (in Paris) and at Harrods (at Roja Dove's Haute Parfumerie) in London.

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