Burr-y the Hatchet: Chandler Burr Interview

Perfume Shrine always aims to bring our readers the highlights of fragrance appreciation with objectivity and a level-headed analytical approach.
So, in the pursuit of those goals, we present you today with an interview with one of the controversial players in fragrance writing: the journalist and writer Chandler Burr.

Mr.Burr perused our site, confessed being impressed with the quality (we humbly blushed) and honoured us with an in-depth interview on certain sensitive points that were rather tough, per his estimate: about his current position as perfume critic in The New York Times, a position for which he has been criticized a lot by internet readering perfumephiles; his acquintance with Luca Turin for "The Emperor of Scent"; his stance on the matters of perfume composition; his newest book "The Perfect Scent" which follows the creation of two fragrances from scratch: one for a celebrity, Sarah Jessica Parker, and the other by esteemed perfumer Jean Claude Ellena for Hermès; and his views on the new luxe tendencies in the industry.
Perfume Shrine appreciates the thought and effort that went into answering those questions; we found him agreeable and we sincerely thank him.

Let's follow him.....

PLEASE NOTE: unauthorised copying of excerpts of the book constitutes copyright infringement. Mr.Burr personally gave us express permission to reprint those for this venue only.

PART 1

PS: Chandler, you had been a journalist for a long time and had written a book on sexuality. How did you decide after writing “The Emperor of Scent” to devote more of your time into writing about perfume? Was it a new interest, a new field for journalistic exploration that culminated in your New York Times appointment or something that turned into a genuine and profound love for fragrance?



CB: I actually had no intention of writing on perfume again. In fact, I didn’t really consider “The Emperor of Scent” a book related to perfume as a subject per se, although I of course now realize that was obtuse on my part. I’d loved writing about perfume in the context of “Emperor,” discovering scent criticism via Luca Turin’s writing, hearing his astonishing stories about perfume and his opinions—learning the basics of what “good” and “bad” meant in this brand new (to me) artistic field.



“The Perfect Scent” and my position as The New York Times perfume critic were entirely a surprise and entirely the result of an idea pitched to me by my editor at The New Yorker magazine. He took me to lunch, and I proposed ten—I remember the number; I’d prepared a list—detailed pieces that interested me, basically economics stories in Asia. That’s my field, at least officially; I studied international relations in Paris, Chinese history in Beijing, and I started as a stringer at the Christian Science Monitor's Southeast Asia bureau in Manila. My Masters is Japanese political economy. But he said to me, well, I read “Emperor,“ and what really interested me are these people, these perfumers, who make perfume. He’d had no idea the profession existed. He proposed that I do a behind-the-scenes account of the creation of a perfume. I absolutely didn’t want to do it. I didn’t tell him that, of course. Well, I think I cringed a little. The reason is that I really, really wanted to start reporting from Asia and I really, really didn’t want to have anything to do with fashion. It’s a world I dislike, one I feel quite uncomfortable in. Or felt. I’m a bit more used to it, but the point is, it’s just not my thing—I knew how to write about the automotive industry in Japan, but I had no idea how to write about perfume and fashion, I’d never done it before, “Emperor” sure as hell wasn’t about that—and because of that discomfort I actually wound up turning in a first draft to The New Yorker that they hated, which I didn’t know until after the piece was published. We edited it down, found the narrative, and I discovered that I loved writing about perfume as perfume. Writing “Emperor” I smelled almost nothing. Writing the New Yorker piece and then “The Perfect Scent” I smelled raw materials and perfumes constantly, every day, spent weeks and weeks in laboratories, visited raw materials plants, fields that grew orange blossoms and roses and jasmine. Amazing.


When the New Yorker piece came out, I was at a party at Hermès on Madison Avenue, and Francesca Leoni introduced me to Stefano Tonchi, the head of T Style, the New York Times style magazine. He said, “Come see me Friday at 10!” I showed up at The Times—I hadn’t confirmed, I just showed up at 10—and he was surprised to see me—“But you didn’t confirm!” (Sorry)—but we sat down, and he said, “We want you to write for us! What would you like to do?” I said, “I’d like to be your perfume critic.” He stared at me for a moment and then said, “I love it! We’ll do it!”



PS: Most people involved in perfume know you from “The Emperor of Scent” and its unraveling of the Luca Turin saga. How was it meeting him and knowing him as a man? There are some hints in the book, but fans are interested in more.

CB: I had never spent time with an actual genius before, and it is a profoundly strange sensation. Here is a mind that is simply running at such a high processor speed, with such a large memory and a vastness of information available to it, and I just reveled in it. What’s interesting to me is the range of reaction to Luca as I presented him in “Emperor.” Some people hated the character as they interpreted him in my book, found him arrogant, egotistical—which in my opinion he is not at all; having opinions is not the same thing as being egotistical. Others loved him. “He’s touchy, he’s fun, he’s grouchy, he’s brilliant, he’s self-destructive”—I’ve heard everything from readers of the book.

It seems obvious to me that we exist, as people, in the number of parallel universes that there are people who know us; if five people know you, you are five different people. Luca is certainly touchy, fun—to me, wildly fun, I’ve never been able to have the conversations with people that I have with him—self-destructive, brilliant, entertaining, enlightening. He is also absolutely imperfect; being a genius doesn’t remove flaws, in fact it amplifies them. He can be solipsistic—the breakdown of intelligence—petulant, violent. I’ve been furious at things he’s said and done and vice versa. He’s stopped speaking to me numerous times. In the periods in which we’re on good terms I never, ever have better political conversations, more interesting talks, or a better time with anyone. He is eminently practical (there is no higher word of praise in my vocabulary, just so you know), concise, and, as Luca loves to say, bullshit-free. He can be more reactive and juvenile, more clear minded and perceptive—astonishingly, effortlessly so—than anyone I’ve ever met. He is extra ordinary {sic}. And there it is.


PS: You have been the perfume critic of the New York Times for quite some time now. There has been some criticism about your columns from people who are interested in perfume, especially on internet fora. This is a good thing, because it means that so many read you and pay attention, by the way! The main complaint however has been that you became a perfume critic by association: because you had met someone who had been a perfume critic himself. Other complaints focus on your prose or your attention to the chemical structure of things which they might deem as unromantic. How would you reply to them, if at all?


CB: OK, so let’s take them one by one. Obviously I became a perfume critic by association: I met Luca, I learned from him that perfume criticism existed, I wrote about him doing it, then I started doing it. And? How do they think people become anything? David Geffen started working in the William Morris mailroom. Amy Pascal started as some producer’s assistant; now she’s Chairman of Sony Pictures Entertainment Motion Picture Group. In fact, throughout history a vast number of the men and women who’ve made it to the top of their professions started on the lowliest levels in places they got to by pure chance—life is like that—and rose. Joseph Volpe began as a carpenter's apprentice at New York's Metropolitan Opera and four decades later became its general manager. And on and on and on. This is an idiotic observation to make about me on its face.


But if they are actually arguing, elliptically, that my criticism is qualitatively inferior, that’s a completely different and unrelated argument. And they can make that argument. But they should make that argument directly. The other is an observation, not an argument, and it is prima facia moronic. So is my criticism qualitatively inferior? I hope not. I certainly spend an immense amount of time and effort trying to insure it isn’t.


Complaints about my prose and my attention to the chemical structure of things: These are of course perfectly legitimate points. My response is, first, that nobody bats a thousand, and I sure as hell am no exception. I make mistakes (in retrospect, obviously; one only has retrospect to make that call) all the time in choice of adjectives and so on. If you write for a year, you have a year’s worth of writing to find things that you regret. If you write for 30 years, you’ve got 30 years’ worth. Somebody once asked Frank Bruni how often he read what was on the blogs about him, and he said, emphatically, “Never!” My answer is: “Almost never.” First, I’m not a board guy, either technically (I lose my way on them) or temperamentally. Second, the ratio of serious, intelligent criticism of my own writing, both positive and negative, that I’ve seen is relatively small. When it’s there, I love it. A friend sent me to look at something on Perfume of Life recently, and I found an entire thread in which people had not only posed several smart criticisms of me but asked several pertinent questions, and I wound up making the first board entry I think I’ve ever made. I really enjoyed it. I have no time or interest in comments like “Burr is such an asshole,” “What a jerk,” “Yeah, anyone else who can’t stand him?” There is simply zero content here. When the comments are intelligent and thoughtful, then I’m interested.



For example, there’s the criticism of my writing about the molecules and synthetics and the opinion that that makes perfume “unromantic.” I could not possibly disagree more strongly with this point of view, but it’s an entirely legitimate point of view, so to give an answer: For me—not for others, I realize; I’m speaking from my perspective—good criticism decorticates and reverse engineers the art it is examining on a mechanical level as well as a conceptual/ aesthetic one. I used the example once of Alex Ross, the New Yorker’s classical music critic, who will, rarely but sometimes, give specifics about the keys, modalities, and technical details of the music he is criticizing. I wish he did it more. I love it. I’ve read critics who talk about the technical aspects of perspective in painting and the electronics and physics of the machines that reproduce the Ravel that we listen to. I love that. (Luca is actually an expert in this.) So I start from that perspective.

Now, to bring that specifically to perfume: In "The Perfect Scent", this is part of what I say.

"I was at breakfast in Paris at one of the stupidly expensive Alain Ducasse places with the creative director of a prominent French house. I told her about a piece I was writing about synthetics for The Times, explaining the role that synthetics had in perfume and that most perfumes are made of synthetics today. She looked at me with honest horror. She said, “Mais Chandler, tu casses le rêve!” But, Chandler, you’re destroying the dream! The dream being some information-free version of perfume where the stuff presumably flows purely outof a tiny magic spigot attached to a rosebush or something else and is bottled by fairies with LVMH employment contracts. I like this woman. She’s serious and smart, but she shares this viewpoint with the overwhelming majority of French perfume industry people (and basically the same number of their New York counterparts), and I couldn’t disagree with them more. When I repeated the comment to Frédéric Malle, he rolled his eyes and said, “They’re killing themselves with this rêve, which in my opinion is more of a cauchmare.” A nightmare.
For example: Not only are synthetics fascinating; they’re basically completely misunderstood by everyone. Including some of the pros, by the way…..Perfume is a parade of emperor’s new clothes. In the “dream” version of perfume, marketers tell the public that perfumes have “notes of caramel and blueberry,” which simply means, since there are no natural caramel or blueberry perfumery raw materials (it’s neither technically possible nor financially viable to distill them), that the perfumers have just created these scents (perfumers call them accords, not notes, which is a term for public consumption).
You can create the scent of caramel with 3-hydroxy-4,5-dimethyl-2(5H)-furanone. If you take that molecule and add a small amount of ethyl butyrate, ethyl valerate, and phenethyl acetate, you get a nice fresh garden berry that would work great in an Escada launch. God forbid the public knew it.
Explaining a jet engine or the wing of a 787 doesn’t destroy the awesome beauty of flight. It doesn’t break the dream. It does the opposite. The more you understand of science, the more you marvel at the magic of reality, and creating the dream is not the same as perpetuating ignorance. It is the opposite: taking people inside, letting them see behind the scenes, showing them how it all works. To the degree to which its public discourse aligns with the truth about the construction of its perfumes, Estée Lauder is always on surer, safer, more solid ground. This is, pretty much, the fundamental political observation of the twentieth century; it is one of the more obvious economic lessons drawn from ideological, antimarket socialist economies where both economic forces and the public relations surrounding them were divorced from the reality of consumer instincts. Lauder’s old public relations policy, in which the perfumer was never to be mentioned and Mrs. Lauder was presented in some vague, inchoate way as sitting in her kitchen pouring raspberry ketone into dihydrojasmonate, is from a different era.

The paradigm is antiquated. I would suggest that it is also commercially ineffective. In fact, probably counterproductive…. Millions are fascinated by the process by which designers like Todd Oldham cut, sew, design, and agonize their fall collections into existence, but the great creative minds at Yves Saint Laurent and Jean Paul Gaultier and Dior, with the collective brilliance of a single mollusk at low tide, have intuited that with perfume? No. Here is an industry suffocating itself on the most immense pile of public relations human civilization has ever produced, a literal mountain of verbiage about “the noble materials, symbol of eternal feminine beauty, addictive notes of Cocoa Puffs, she can’t wait to taste him like a Hershey’s kiss, Cleopatra wore this, it has notes of distilled wild all-natural Martian fungus harvested by French virgins on the third moon of Pluto.” The lies pile up on other lies, they generate a poisoned river of vapid crap the marketers try to pass off as “information,” and the brands have no clue that their public relations approach is about fifty years out of date. Reading anything they put out on their perfumes is like reading a combination of Kafka, only less creative, and Pravda circa 1985. Zero interest. There is almost no recognition that the enforced lack of knowledge, this gaping void of nothingness about what their products actually are, who makes them, and what’s in the things, is creating boredom and disinterest. The perfume industry is choking itself to death on its vacuum."

~The Perfect Scent

PS: On the matter of synthetics, there has been polemics of sorts between people who defend naturals (scents made out of naturally-derived raw materials, that is) and those who prefer synthetics (scents with a preponderance of man-made aroma chemicals). Your own stance so far shows a very distinct tendency towards the latter. Would you mind explaining how and why this came about? Some might say that you are not all that familiar with all-naturals scents anyway.


CB: “Some might say that you are not all that familiar with all-naturals scents anyway.” I may of course be wrong, but I believe I’m more than familiar enough with all-natural scents. I have smelled many of them, in several different collections, over the years. Most lately a new batch, two weeks ago, in a restaurant in Soho. They are natural perfumes, which is to say they have an extremely limited palette, range, and technical performance. They are boring, and my position—which is that synthetics are absolutely just as integral to and legitimate in perfumery as natural materials; not that they are better but simply that they are equal—comes from the simple empirical observation that all raw materials are made up of chemicals. It is utterly illogical to argue that a chemical made in a plant is superior (or inferior for that matter) to the same chemical made in a factory. It’s simply illogical. It is illogical to argue that natural molecules are all good and synthetics all bad when arsenic is natural and it is a poison (as are so many other naturals). It is simply illogical. But religious people are not logical, and the all-natural people are deeply, fervently religious, and I have no more to say to them than I do to any other theocratic fundamentalists. If naturals are simply spiritually better, then my empirical position is worthless and I am wrong by definition. That’s the way religious truth works. In my view, however, religious fanaticism sucks, and it is no more logical to build a perfume today only of natural materials than it is to build a building today only out of mud, wood, and thatch.



PS: Today’s mainstream perfumery has been “cheapened” by popular agreement. Is this due in part to fragrance houses briefing the big companies that produce scents to use the cheapest ingredients, some of which are indeed aroma chemicals that mimic natural essences that have a prohibitive cost or is it merely the ugly head of unrestrained capitalism raising itself?



CB: Yes.



PS: Additionally, today’s mainstream perfumery lacks originality: everyone is copying each other and the latest blockbuster in this tsunami of perfume releases. How did it come to that? Is there a way out? Many perfumers have admittedly become jaded, like Pierre Bourdon for instance.



CB: It came to that in exactly the same way that it came to the exact same thing in Hollywood: I once heard an MBA say to me, rather wearily, “The fundamental principle in business is: reduce risk.” Olivier Cresp did Light Blue for Dolce & Gabbana, and it is just wonderful and delightful, an innovative way of doing clarity as an aesthetic. Then he did Black XS, which was the same theme, and it was slightly less interesting, though still good. Then he did Ange ou Démon, and it was what it was: a copy of a copy. But what is Olivier to do? He’s done this hugely successful thing (that also happens to be very good), they ask him, “Hey, can you make us a Light Blue too?” They mean, usually, in sales figures, but sometimes they just say it: “Copy that!” What is he to do?


YOU CAN READ THE 2nd PART CLICKING HERE




Pic of firing men from the film The wind that shakes the barley courtesy of athinorama. Pic of tryptophan structure from linkinghub.elsevier

Incense Extrême by Tauer: fragrance review

I breathe in the cool incense smoke from the metal brazier,
While thinking about a poem for my dear friend Lu Wa.

My sandalwood-hearted companion spits out plum blossoms of smoke,
Looking like the cloudy fog of the other world.


Perhaps it's the soul of my friend the old mountain man
in the smoke's dense patterns?

- Kan Po, in memoriam (undated)


Incense extrême is the new fragrance by swiss niche perfumer Andy Tauer, that reminds me of the smoke's dense patterns that go up in clouds like the souls of dead men.
Based on a natural CO2 extract of Boswellia serrata (this is Indian frankincense, for those who didn't know) it is only one of a duo of incense scents that Andy is launching in 2008. It is to be accompanied by yet another incense fragrance later on in early spring, March 30, this time named Incense Rosé.


According to Andy Tauer (from Tauerperfumes):

"This natural incense scent inspired me to create different perfumes, with "Incense extreme" being the most abstract, almost cubist and uncompromising interpretation.
It captures the roughness of the climate of the semi desert where Boswellia trees thrive. It is translucent like the first whiff of incense smoke from frankincense resin on red gleaming coal. Yet, it is crisp like a night in the desert.
The Boswellia serrata extract is the central cornerstone of the fragrance, at a concentration of 25%, rounded off with dry woods and ambergris in the background. Soft iris balances the incense in the heart of the fragrance. And coriander and the freshness of petitgrain set the accents in the opening. The richness of the natural incense enchants with an array of impressions, playing differently as it develops, a kaleidoscope of colors and shapes."

As I spray on my skin a somber and cool smoky incense hits the nostrils with all the gusto of an open air fire on which aromatic woods and resins are slowly being burnt. The overall impression is of a fragrance that uses a high percentage of natural ingredients. Elemental, austere and slightly bitter, it calls the wild expanse of dry lands by which it has been inspired. All the while the soft underpinning of a piquant, peppery and tangy note adds its own sharp, short and cool touch. There is no floral impression, no powder that I can discern, as the incense dries off in waxy dropelts, leaving in its wake the lingering impression of trails of smoke through steely skies with the merest hint of sweetness left caressing the skin, like the memento of pleasures abandoned. Myself I admire its cold, clear character that defies pleasanties.

If you were searching for a warm, sensuous, ambery incense you are going to be somewhat disappointed. And although those latter are not my style really, I have to admit that it is less complex or indeed sensual than most of Andy's other creations. Still, there is a sparseness of style that appeals to an intellectualised sensibility, asceticism of both body and mind and the depravasion of earthy delights or the vanity of spirit. This might appeal to our inner sinner longing to repent of self spending in taste, play and song by a stint in the desert. Or our inner Spartan who longs for the black broth of his homeland instead of a feast fit for Lucullus on a borrowed table.
Whether this warrants the extrême qualitative adjective is food for thought: I think not as much. It lacks the weirdness and pungency that one would expect from something tagged so.
But this is not to detract from its value or its worthiness of trying out for yourself.


Notes: coriander, petitgrain, spices, orris, frankincense, cedarwood and ambergris.

Tauer Perfumes Incense extrême comes in 50ml of Eau de Parfum concentration and will be available on 23rd of January.



Tomorrow a juicy post from an insider, a controversial player, that will instigate lots of discussion.
Please check again for it!

Poem found through scents of earth. Pic of incense cones courtesy of L'artisan site.

Twin peaks: Lauder Pleasures Delight & Mugler Innocent

In the realm of sweet scents, the consumer is spoiled for choice. There are literally hundreds of releases that focus in treating our taste buds, rather than our olfactory centers, luring us in with the promise of a pampering, homely and seductive aroma. Estee Lauder, after the very successful launch of Pure White Linen, uses Gwyneth Paltrow again as their face for a spin on their Pleasures scent: one of many spins, if we count Pleasures Intense and Pleasure Exotic and the limited editions that roll out every season.


According to the Pleasures Delight press release by Estee Lauder:

"Life is sweet. Treat yourself to something delicious... a playful side of pleasures that's simply irresistible. This floral confection blends notes of juicy pomegranate, whipped strawberry meringue and tempting caramel with a sprinkling of sugared rose petals, dewy freesia, white peony and fresh greens. How can you resist?"

The fragrance is a

"floral gourmand confection blending juicy fruits, tangy citrus and irresistible desserts and sweets".

The fragrance is indeed quite pleasing: creamy, rich, sweet predictably, but not nauseating, with a tangy bite, with very good staying power. However it is not distinctive enough in a market that is saturated with similar offerings. Still it is a decent example of this genre of gourmand perfumery and the clean, sweetish patchouli in the base makes for a sensual perfume. I can sense the caramely sweetness that has a tinge of powdery vanillic softness, but no floral elements per se. It leaves a velvety trail behind which accounts for much of its pleasant effect. Although the official notes are not that close to Innocent by Thierry Mugler, upon smelling it this is the impression I got, me being a long time fan of the latter.

The notes of Pleasures Delight encompass:
pomegranate, fresh greens, freesia, whipped strawberry meringue, peony, lily, muguet, heliotrope, sugared rose petals, caramel, marshmallow, vanilla, patchouli.
Pleasures Delight comes in 50 and 100 ml Eau de Parfum and a complimentary body lotion and shower gel, available at major department stores.


Innocent by Thierry Migler came out in 1998, as their first "variation" on Angel. It first came in an canister like that of deodorant sprays, but the company soon realised it did the scent a disservice and they opted for the bluish column with the star cap you see for their eau de parfum.
According to Amazon, it is a "Mystic, Flowery and Fresh Fragrance". I think it's neither, but anyway. To me it is a comfort scent with a potent vibe of slightly burnt meringues laced with glazed, tart fruits oozing caramely goodness. If you are familiar with those sugared almond-shaped chocolates coated with pastel colours of hardened glaze that people put into the wedding and christening little pouches for the guests, this is quite close and very delectable with a slightly bitter edge.
Innocent also has a sparkly quality right ahead that makes an impression to anyone in proximity and retains its message for hours. It's especially good on clothes and stays true for days. In fact it is one of the scents that has consistently earned me compliments from men, belying its name of cherubic nuances. It turns heads in a good way and it is a bit less ubiquitous than Angel, which has become a very recognisable smell due to its huge popularity.

If I were pondering on which of the two scents to choose, Pleasures Delight or Innocent, I would go with my firm favourite: not because of any fault of the former, but rather because since something has already been done, it's worth perservering to one's first choice. It stands for character. Or so I tell myself...

Notes for Innocent:
Top notes: bergamot, mandarin, helional.
Heart notes: honey, dewberry, black currant, passion fruit.
Base notes: sugar almonds, meringue, amber, musk

Pic of twins by Diane Arbus via Transidex. Pic of Innocent bottle from aromatic, pic from Lauder campaign from the official site

How much more gorgeous can you go?

Seek and you shall find: it is these biblical words that come to mind upon seeing the gorgeous advertisements of the year 1972 by Guerlain.
I was seeking an ad that would depict a red-haired beauty for Mitsouko in a futile search for the entertaining although completely frivolous concept of perfumes for certain haircolours,; a concept that had been in practice however at the start of the 20th century when houses would produce indeed fragrances aimed at different types of women, as classified per haircolour. Patou was one of them. Guerlain also had created Mitsouko for darker women and L'heure bleue for blondes, as I had read in a perfumer's confession to a journalist acquaintance.
And then I stumbled upon these. And a vista of beautiful possibilities opened up...

Shalimar for a raven-haired seductress


Mitsouko for a redhead introspect

L'heure bleue for a wistful, enigmatic dark blonde

Jicky for a dynamic, sizzling blonde



and finally, the pièce de resistance:
Vol de Nuit for a regal auburn-shaded brunette




Never mind that it looks like it's the same model on all the above ads. Ah...the perfume lover can dream, can't she?




all pics courtesy of okadi

What makes for the popular vote?

Now there's an interesting question for the new year! Isn't it?
The poll we conducted here at Perfume Shrine was intriguing on many levels, none the less important because it revealed certain finer points.

First of all, the poll confirmed that the people who activately participate in such projects are astounding less numerous than the actual readership. I don't know why the literally hundreds of people who visit every single day didn't want to cast a vote: perhaps they were not familiar with all the fragrances and didn't want to skew the poll by opting for something that might overshadow something else. Perhaps they don't believe in polls anyway. Perhaps they didn't deem any of the choices worthy, even. And to tell you the truth, the term "best" is quite binding and loaded for such a subjective matter as taste. Truthfully, in terms of innovation and vision, it was the smaller brands that made the grade for me. But since their offerings are not yet being discussed extensively (I am confident they will be soon!), it was inevitable that well-known brand names would be opted for as the gladiator contestants.

And they crossed their swords quite forcefully too! Apart from two choices of course, predictably the men's mainstream launches by Dior and Calvin Klein who tied with only one vote each.
This last part is indicative of two things to my mind: first, that our male readership is either rather limited (as is generally the case with perfume venues anyway) or much more demanding (a welcome thought). And secondly, that despite a few examples, much of the masculine fragrance launches by mainstream companies are simply unispiring, lacklustre and utimately dull.

The reason that I personally opted to include Dior Fahrenheit 32 over the more sympatico to my sensibilities Fleur du Mâle by Gaultier was due to the dire need to include at least one Dior offering: they had come out with two major launches this year, a move which resonates loudly throughout the buying audiences whatever we might say about the brand in recent years. Midnight Poison fell rather short of expectations and merely perpetuated the rose-patchouli accord we have come to sniff so regularly these past 2 years, leaving us with only the majestically gothic commercial and wonderful dark bottle to swoon over. Therefore the headstart of Fahrenheit 32 in the innovation stakes (abstract orange blossom in a men's fume) won the day.
Calvin Klein issued his first masculine fragrance Calvin Klein Man that didn't have a feminine counterpoint. The experiment wasn't bad, but it wasn't terribly bold either. Still, it is a major brand that accounts for lots of sales, therefore the inclusion. The fact that it wasn't voted for speaks for its relative diminished appeal in discerning circles.

The doyenne of the pretty, the Estée Lauder group, issued one of the most surprising launches of this year, Private Collection Tuberose Gardenia. A scent that repositions the brand into a more exclusive plane that had already begun with Tom Ford's efforts a couple of seasons ago. But here is the tour de force: they did it with a beautiful fragrance that smells true, stays on long and doesn't cost the small fortune other brands ask for. Bravo Aérin Lauder on a well done feat! I am sure that the 11% of our readers who chose it as best scent of 2007 has a use for a white floral fragrance that makes them feel simply gorgeous when they step out to face the world.

Prada did a comparable thing with their lovely Infusion d'Iris, going through a different marketing route, that of masstige: supposedly costly ingredients in a classy bottle with the crest of tradition but available through Sephora and larger stores. Hence the 16% piece of the pie Prada snatched in this poll we conducted. Infusion d'Iris is unapopogetically pretty, classy, notably well suited to both sexes and distinct even if relying on less costly materials than touted (please note that they do not list the origin of iris on the packaging, contrary to the commercially cunning demonstration of other ingredients right in front of your eyes ~which points to the use of aromachemicals). In the year of iris, from Guerlain Iris Ganache to Iris Pallida by L'artisan, Prada's iris is a great option.


Hermès simply reconfirmed what they are after: individual, aesthete concepts that do not concern themselves much with trends. Despite Kelly Calèche having this rather gauche name, I might add ~borrowing from a previous scent (OK, this is standard practice among houses lately) but also from an actual accessory of the brand that acts as a status symbol: the Kelly bag (how transparently manipulative is that?). Additionally, the advertorials that talked about a leather floral did the scent a disservice, as did the naughty, defiant ad: had they mentioned a slight suede note, they might not had disappointed the die-hard leather fans who expected a potent mix of Cuir de Russie calibre. Instead they found a cool, composed, pretty feminine floral with the slightest whiff of smooth velvetine that hypnotises with its devious sillage and great tenacity. I predict that the fragrance will be vindicated in perfume circles for its meek 6% vote in no more than 3 years' time: note this comment, you have heard it here first!

Bond No.9 made the most surprising entry of this year with their best yet release: Andy Warhol Silver Factory, the first of a series of instalments centered on the pope of Pop Art. Due partly to its release late in the year and its relative obscurity, it lagged in votes garnering only 5%. Yet this delectable incense is worth seeking out and although the big, really expensive bottles of Bond No.9 are often too costly for what they fragrantly bear, this one heralds a new leaf in the Bond book. If it is anything to go by, I am looking forward to their other Andy Warhol inspired scents soon.

Not so with Serge Lutens: this year has been a sort of let-down for his many, arduous fans who have come to expect the world from him. Whether this has to do with Chris Sheldrake getting a position at Chanel or with the rampant rumous of Serge Lutens himself getting slowly out of fragrance creation and focusing on makeup, it remains to be seen. Sarrassins was lovely, beautiful and with a slight animalic edge, but it didn't bring out the frisson we have come to expect from an exclusive Lutens! Louve is even less edgy, despite its smooth, fluffy qualities. But more on that on an upcoming review shortly...

Gucci by Gucci garnered a 5% percentage for much the same reason as Bond's Silver Factory: coming out late in the year and not yet available in all markets, it hasn't registered enough into people's minds to get more votes. Or the new chypres have become a little too predictable for their own good, like I had mentioned on my musings for 2007 in fragrance. Personally I haven't smelled this yet, so all bets are off till I do. But somehow I am not too excited.

Chanel and Guerlain proved again that they are considered sacred cows of the perfume world and that their new scents always make a ripple in the stagnant pond of new launches of mainstream brands. Despite the fact that both choices (Spirituelle Double Vanille from Guerlain which won the race by a thread and 31 Rue Cambon by Chanel) were rather exclusive to begin with lots of our discerning readers had a keen interest to sample them whatever it took, exactly because they were Chanel and Guerlain.

No matter how disillusioned perfume lovers might have become in general, Guerlain still is a bastion of rich perfume history and their adherence to their illustrious tradition with their boutique scents is worth the trouble of locating the elusive juices. One might argue that their practice of re-issuing past discarded experiments under new wraps is akin to the Emperor's new clothes (Mahora I am looking at you!). But still, the myth is going strong encased in opulent bottles. Spiritueuse Double Vanille is one of the loveliest vanillas out there and this is coming from someone who isn't enamoured with vanilla in the first place. Rich, pod-like, it possesses the vibrancy of trails of smoke lifting off for a flight of orientalised arabesque.
Last but not least, vanilla is an easier concept to like for the majority of people than a chypré floral, accounting for 23% versus 22%.

Chanel is equally respected for their history and austere class, perpetuated through lore, imagery and elegant packaging that accounts for much of the brand's cachet. If anything, they are the most recognised brandname throughout the world in luxury apparel and cosmetics and everyone, simply everyone, has come into -direct or indirect- contact with No.5 at some point in their lives.
31 Rue Cambon was announced as the new revolution in the industry that would put the chypre genre back in the map, following the restrictions of oakmoss percentage, by opting for a new accord (pepper and iris, reportedly) that would bypass the problem in the most elegant way.
Chypre didn't need re-invention: it is as iconic a notion to fragrance as it is lamentably obsolete ~the perfume police have made sure that none of the mainstream chypre perfumes of yore will ever be exactly the same. But chypre might have needed re-orchestration, reagrdless, so as to appeal to a new audience which isn't tied up into the legend of yesterday and isn't as involved in the terminology and greater onomastics rather than in what a fragrance exudes.
31 Rue Cambon indeed manages to smell elegant, confident, classy, like old money. It doesn't try too hard and this is its charm. But also its possible downfall. In the years to come it might be bypassed by bolder creations, such as the more old-fashioned Cuir de Russie or Bois des Iles, exactly because they are arresting compositions. And therefore if it is to become a classic, it will have to shed at least some of its exclusivity in order to become more well-known to wider audiences who are the ones who validate a fragrance through continuous, ardent loyalty through the decades.

All in all, 2007 proved that there is yet hope for the fragrance industry. Let's see how smartly they interpret the feedback.


Pic by whatktdoes.com, bottle of Kelly Caleche from Hermès