New niche line: Nobile 1942

“I have the simplest of tastes; I am always satisfied with the best”. This delightful aphorism by Oscar Wilde serves as the leitmotif for niche Italian brand Nobile 1942. Not exactly newcomers, as they hail from as back as –wait, you guessed it!- 1942, Nobile has recently been brought to my attention. The results have been more than satisfactory. And on top of that, they are not fully "discovered" yet, which is a big plus as well.

Umberto Nobile, the patriach of the firm, had always been an agent of the most glamorous perfumery marks and following his innate inclination started a perfume emporium in the year 1942 in Rome, with war at the gates. His love for beauty was passed on to the rest of the family, who decided to search on quality as a mission producing work made of sensations, allurement and intuition. The Nobile brand is still in the hands of the family, Massimo and Stefania Nobile, now residing in Arenzano, Genova. They are focusing on the best quality ingredients using natural products whenever possible and applying the old techniques of maceration, steeping, filtration and distillation.

Natural raw materials provide a greater complexity themselves and often produce the slight variation in performance on skin that aromachemicals in most commercial products are not in the habit of producing, rendering the common allegation –or even complaint- of individual skin chemistry a bogus claim. This is both an asset for the perfumer and a liability. It means a greater stability of the product and a calculated reaction in the consumer, which in marketing terms is extremely desirable. However it also detracts from the joy of discovering something afresh everyday, thus accounting for the often referenced boredom with the same smell day in day out.

Indeed as I went through the testing process of the Nobile 1942 fragrances I discerned some noticable variation of the same scents in the final effect produced. Taking into account that hormones, diet and medication did not vary from one day to the next (indeed the latter was absent altogether) I could hazard the guess that this was due to slight variations in skin temperature, room relative humidity and perhaps…mood. In any case Nobile 1942 scents proved to be pleasurable and some of them spectacular in every incarnation they took upon contact with my skin.
Opening up the sample case I was struck by the beauty and style of the presentation which shows cleraly why the Italians are masterful in affairs of design. It’s no coincidence that Ferrari is an Italian car, nor is it any less coincidental that they are the land of the opera and of living life to the full: from gelati to espresso, via the Galleria Uffici and the Murano glassblowers, Italians do know how to make beautiful things.

The papier goffré of the packaging as well as the logo and names etched in silver or gold depending on scent are simply a sight to behold. There is a tactile pleasure to be derived by handling beautiful objects and the relief of the packaging makes for another sensuous touch beyond the scent lurking inside.
The fragrances themselves are beautifully constructed, luminous and clear in their invocations, singing in unison.

There are three sub-divisions within the brand:

Pontevecchio, with one scent for women and another for men. Presented in Colonia intensa (equivalent to Eau de toilette) and Fragranza suprema (equivalent to Eau de parfum), they are trully beautiful and individual.

Anonimo Veneziano, a feminine fragrance built on enigmatic and sensous notes that capture the dark shades behind medieval palazzi during an evening stroll in Venice.

Vespriesperidati, an eau-de-cologne-like scent for both sexes, which is the lattest addition in the line.


Reviews and added commentary on all of them coming up next!!

Pics courtesy of the Nobile brand

A little teasing!

Worshippers of the Shrine, please stay tuned for next posts which will occupy themselves with a new niche line with fabulous products!

Optical Scentsibilities: head thrown back in abandon

It had been no secret that Tom Ford's Black Orchid for women photoshoot involving Carin Roitfield's daughter (Carin being the editor in chief of French Vogue, no less) had been "inspired" by old Hollywood iconography. Tom Ford if nothing else is a brilliant marketeer who can always be relied upon to know which images will tick the fancy of his target audience. Or perhaps not.

In this case he was inspired by this Veronica Lake photo {click to see it!} by George Hurrell from 1941. The famous peek-a-boo platinum hair is now spawled all over the bed in a pose of surrender and what seems like vague expectation of who knows what.
A phone call, a caress, a bullet?


Dita von Teese, that gorgeous specimen of burlesque, has always relied on old-style Hollywood glam to project her divinely contrasted features. I had used this exact pic in lieu of the official one when I reviewed Black Orchid upon its launch {click for review}. It had seemed more glam than the official one and besides Dita has been a favourite for a long time.

Guerlain also had their own share in this department, alloting their iconic oriental Shalimar a place for this pose of surrender.

The original Opium advertisement with Jerry Hall, poster child of the late 70s, early 80s was first to be inspired by the glamour of yore. In this photo shoot she throws her head back as if high on the addictive powers of Opium. Very fitting considering the line is "For those who are addicted to Yves Saint Laurent".

This was my favourite from the group of Opium advertisments, if only because the fiery red of the model's hair (is it Angie Everheart?)is so complimentary to the cinnabar/vermillon colour of the perfume's flacon and so antithetical to the electric blue background. Remember electric blue, that favourite shade of the 80s that was vibrant like cloud charges on a night of temptest? It offset other shades so vividly...
Of course that pose can be also traced back to Veronica Lake in another shot by George Hurrell. This one: here! Pretty amazing, huh?

Perhaps one might trace the positioning of the body in such a manner to painting in the first place. In particular the iconography of St.Peter’s crucifixion, here by Luca Giordano (1692). Martyrs are often depicted in poses of abandon, as if they are left to their fate, willingly surrundering themselves to higher exigencies.

Then again I might be pushing it…

Ads from okadi,imagedesparfums and parfumsdepub. Veronica Lake pic from Ebay. Painting Crucufixion of St.Peter by angel-art-house.com

The Dior Chypres series ~Miss Dior: fragrance review

“I will tell you of a perfume which my mistress has from the graces and the gods of love; when you smell it, you will ask of the deities to make of you only a nose”. It is in those words that the Roman writer Catullus speaks of the seductive guiles of feminine fragrance. Miss Dior is such a seductive scent, compelling you to ask the deities for favors they ~alas!~ cannot grant you.
Almost everything has been said about this classic of classics that saw the light of day in 1947, so I won’t bore you with the same old, same old about the New Look and how it came about. Instead I will tentatively try to give you the feel I get from this scent and the associations I get in my mind.

Technically a floral leathery chypre, Miss Dior is a soigné miss only in exterior appearances, all prim and proper, because once inside the beast takes over and you smell the animal in its peak of copulating frenzy. There is some element of appocrine in the fragrance and I am not talking about sweat or urine. Although there is the clean overlay of aldehydic waxiness and soft flowers you catch a whiff of more feral, impolite essences. Under the clean exterior there is the carnal cat-call and you feel as if it is perhaps too scrubbed clean to be without ulterior motive. I suspect this is due to civet or civetone, because there is also a pronounced warmth in the background, despite the cooler opening.

The effect is more evident in extrait de parfum especially, which bears a marked difference to the eau de toilette. The latter is more powdery with the slightly bitter, cottony feel of coumarin and has an exuberant, bright green start due to the inclusion of galbanum and aromatic clary sage. Those two ingredients, along with styralyl acetate (naturally found in gardenia buds), is what makes me think of the original Ma Griffe by Carven to which it professes kinship in its initial stages. The galbanum touch might also recall the verdancy of Balmain’s Vent Vert (which came out the same year), although the latter is stridently green in the vintage edition which might seem jarring compared to Miss Dior. The latter also has a soft peachiness to it, characteristic of the Roudnitska touch presumely, which must be derived from some aldehydic compound or other molecular combination, different though from the C14 of Mitsouko. It is a peachiness that I have encountered in hair products, hence my assumption that it is chemically constructed.
The base is smothered in troubling patchouli, moss and earthy vetiver. However this is not the pared down patchouli of modern fragrances that is so ubiquitous in everything churned out at a frantic pace in the last couple of years. There is shady vibrancy in this that defies the clean aspect of the modern patchouli interpretations and a roundness in which notes do not compete with each other for stage space.

As I first inhale whiffs of Miss Dior sprayed into the air, I am transported into a mirage that entails majestic mountains surrounding meadows of lavender and narcissi in bloom, where ultra prim damsels wade through. Their long flaxen hair down, their eyes bright with anticipation in their precious moments of freedom as they turn past oak trees into a little slice of heaven; a pond filled with crystalline waters. And there, out of the blue emerges the catalyst: the object of fantasy and secret longing of who knows what exactly. Acres of moist skin, droplets shinning in the morning sun and wet hair that smells like it hadn’t been washed in a while; that fatty, waxy smell of familiarity, yet for them uncharted territory still. The pungency of horse and saddle distantly echoed in the background.

Here it is:


(Levis commercial uploaded by ladynea)
{The song is "Inside" by one-hit wonder Stiltskin (from 1994)}.

Christian Dior confided that

"...I created this perfume to dress every woman with a trail of desire, and to see emerging from her small bottle all my dresses...”.

Based on a formula by Jean Carles, it was composed by Paul Vacher and later re-arranged in 1992 by Edmond Roudnitska in extrait de parfum. It hoped to open new vistas of optimism after the privations of the war and in a way it did.

Unfortunately, as is so often the case with older creations, there has been some re-orchestration of Miss Dior’s symphony since. Very recent batches do not smell as oily and precise as they did, due to a mollifying of the top notes that deducted the sharp peppery greeness of galbanum giving way to a citrus leaf aroma, not unlike the one in O de Lancome. Also an attenuation of the chypre accord with more vetiver makes the new version less assertive and murky than it used to, rendering it less erotic in effect. At least Evernia Prunastri (oakmoss) and Evernia Furfurea (tree moss) are still listed, although to what ratio it is unknown (hypothesized to a lesser one).
If you happen upon Eau de Cologne bottles, those are surely vintage and they are a pretty good acquisition in lieu of extrait de parfum, if you can’t afford or find it.

It is interesting to note that by today’s standards Miss Dior smells “old-fashioned”, even though it was conceived as a young fragrance aimed at debutantes. Less polite souls would baptize it “old lady”, a blanket term so lacking in qualitative nuance that renders it completely useless. Indeed I was able to witness its effect personally. I happened to spritz a vintage (circa 1985) emerging from a ladies’ restroom, washing in front of two teenager girls who were watching me through the mirror while glossing their puckered lips. Aren’t those times tittilating for budding womanhood? Of course I volunteered to scent them, ever eager to introduce young girls into proper perfumes. One of them staggered back in what seemed like abject horror (judging by the look in her eye) professing the opinion it was “too heavy for her”, the other was more cooperative and allowed me two spritzes on her woolen scarf. Although at first she too seemed a little overwhelmed, after a minute, when alcohol had evaporated, she took the scarf close to her nose and nuzzled deeply. Yeah, there was a look of mischief in her eye as she thanked me. And there you have it: Miss Dior has this double effect; it will make some think it’s heavy and old, it will entrance others on second sniff. I am sure that girl went off to venture into romantic escapades with ackward beaux that could not appreciate the raw power of its labdanum and moss base; beaux whose fathers will be much more receptive to her nubile charms, American-Beauty-style.

Miss Dior is the scent of sexual awakening. A trully naughty perfume under the prim and proper exterior of houndstooth. But hounds do discover the best prey, don’t they?

Official notes: galbanum, bergamot, clary sage, gardenia, jasmine, narcissus, neroli, rose, patchouli, oakmoss, labdanum, sandalwood

NOTA BENE: The above review pertains to the 1947 fragrance formula and the reformulations happening till the early 2000s. As of 2011, the classic Miss Dior is renamed Miss Dior EDT Originale and Miss Dior Cherie from 2005 has become simply... Miss Dior. Please read this article with pics on how to spot which Miss Dior fragrance version you're buying.

For our French-speaking readers there is a nice clip about the 1947 introduction of the New Look with a confessionary voiceover by Fanny Ardant.
Click here:

(uploaded by vodeotv)

We have more surprises on the Shrine for you later on...

Ad from okadi.

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!

Ads from okadi. Bottle pic from toutenparfum