Romancing the Scent

Love is in the air and the perennial question on what constitutes a romantically attractive fragrance and just how scents are perceived by the opposite sex.
The February 08 issue of Allure comes to the rescue, centering on fragrance and romance, as is usual in publications when St.Valentine's is around the corner. An article by Judy Bachrach, titled "Romance in a bottle", draws interesting opinions on the subject from famous people; two of which happen to be perfumers themselves: Sophia Grojsman and Chris Sheldrake. Their replies were so...what is the word I am searching for...that they merited their own commentary. Today we focus on the former.

I have never put great faith in the method via which Sophia Grojsman approaches femininity in perfume. I admit it in all honesty. Her creations from the bombastically pervading Tresor and the equally potent Eternity, to the luminous Paris, on to the oriental jam of Jaipur are so intense and extroverted sides of femininity that they register as caricatures in my mind: accentuating the characteristic traits that differentiate male from female in our perceived consious: The lush rose, the velvety peach, the intense floral sweetness...

Therefore when she suggests using baby-powder-smelling fragrances before jumping into bed (assuming it is with someone other than just your humble self!)as a nod to our subconsious limbic memory of getting our bottoms puffed with the stuff as babies and presumably associating the feeling of being loved and cared for with the aroma of baby powder, I am going a little "huh?"
First of all, because although this exact association is indeed tender but potentially anti-climatic in an amorous occassion (unless...let's not go there!). And secondly, because it has me wondering about how powder, and specifically baby powder registers in the mind of people in general and whether Grojsman is aware of this.

One of the most common complaints in the perfume arena of online discussion and reviewing boards, such as the hugely popular one in MakeupAlley, is that something smells of baby powder ~or baby wipes and similar products in general; clean ones it is assumed, mind you. The perceived image is uniformely unsexy. Still, there is a sinister trail of thought that goes into work here.

There is concern among some women who do have babies that it connotates tasks that remind them of burdening responsibilities and a period in their life when they felt unattractive. Therefore they would not associate those moments with a sexy afterthought. Understandable.

There is also the more sinister syllogism that babies and infants are off limits sexually (not that I disagree, of course), therefore finding an aroma associated with babies sexy is reminiscent of perverted pedophiles. Now being seen as a perverted pedophile -even in the context of merely favourite smells- is a stigma. You want to avoid that by all means.
This train of thought however takes one thing as a foregone conclusion: that perfume is first and foremost supposed to be sexually attractive and thus seen only in a sexually mature context (which is why lots of people object to kids donning fragrance). Ergo, if perfume is to be taken seriously, it must not smell of babies, or it is "sick".

To that opinion one might radically disagree, especially if one has a keen interest in olfaction in general.
And this is also one of the great divides between American and European sensibilities, as European advertisements do not hesitate to present talcum-scented products in appealing ways that suggest some tinge of sensuous allure. Whether that has to do with widespread pedophile circuits and infantilism, well...let's not go there. A can of worms that can't be opened with impunity.
Suffice to say that for Americans the baby powder connotation is smelling of Johnson & Johnson's citrusy, lightly floral vanilla, while for Europeans it is the orage blossom-and-light-musk of Mustela and Nenuco, as evidenced by the experience of Jean Claude Ellena.

However in typical paranoia and irony some baby powdery scents have proven to be huge bestsellers, eclipsing other scents that launched tagged as sexy. Examples of talcum-laced scents are Flower by Kenzo or Cashmere Mist by Donna Karan. Others have proclaimed their baby pedigree unashamedly, like Petits et Mamans by Bvlgari. And still some have become cult classics with their vat-of-talc odour, like Teint de Neige and Keiko Mecheri's Loukhoum. The choice is yours...



What is your opinion on this subject? I would be interested in reading your comments on this.



To be continued.....


Pic via Flickr

Juicy commentary to follow...

Recently I had had the rare pleasure and honour of being invited to the presentation of Chandler Burr's book The Perfect Scent in New York on January 7, among other fellow bloggers, such as the esteemed girls of Perfume Posse. Incapacitated to physically attend, I was solaced by satiating my curiosity reading the book ~which incidentally is launching officially today~ and by interviewing mr. Chandler Burr himself; the fruits of which conversation I am sure you have followed here on the blog {click for part 1 and part 2}.

In the interests of objectivity and giving a personal opinion on several points on the published oeuvre of this fragrance-creation trailing, I am planning on commenting on certain juicy parts very shortly, while other surprises are also looming up. Stay tuned!



Pic sent to me by email unaccredited (isn't it fab?)

Outlaws and Brigands: Bandit by Piguet (fragrance review)

It was 1944, when WWII was at its most crucial stages with the battle of Monte Cassino, the fall of Rome to the Allies, the maiden flight of the Bristol Brigand and subsequently D-day that Robert Piguet had sent his models down the runway brandishing knives, toy revolvers and masks like highwaymen, like outlaws. And it was this occasion that prompted Germaine Cellier to grab the models’ knickers after they had walked the catwalk, reputedly studying their scent in an effort to “capture the best of their femininity” for the couturier’s first foray into fragrance. Whether she did and how one defines femininity in the first place is food for thought.

Cellier herself was outwardly conforming to all the perceived ideas of it: beautiful, slim, blond and tall, she exuded an air of elegance. Yet her reputation was tinged with shades of unconventionality and homosexuality and her creations were aiming to reflect different perceptions of Yin and Yang. Fracas was made for the femmes, Bandit was for the dykes.

In those times of closeted sexuality, these were hints that never left the inner sanctum and remained under wraps. Today it is a matter of playful reversal of roles, when women are freer with their sexual identity and image and are conscious of how they can juggle both sides. In saying that however I realize that both of those sides are dark and dangerous and not to be trifled with: both Fracas and Bandit pack a punch and are smirking with the knowledge of their own sinister powers. To Fracas’s torrid tuberose that makes you either fall madly in love with or shun forever, Bandit juxtaposes daring, bitter green leather which, according to a male admirer smelling it, exudes aloofness, rebellious intellectuality and absolutely requires an expanse of skin to show for its sensuality to bloom.


Classified as a leather chypré, Bandit manages to pose a glorious riddle that has a resonance even to today’s sensibilities, staying resolutely, brilliantly modern and quite young in spirit, contrary to many chypres and leather scents. There is simply nothing like it on the market, although many have drawn inspiration from its complex leather and greens accord.

“Beautiful but brutal” is how the perfumer Guy Robert described it and he couldn’t be more accurate about a scent that opens on the intense slap of galbanum greeted by hazy blossoms on a bed of raw hide, rendered by 1% of isobutyl quinoline!
A woman has seized her boyfriend’s bomber jacket, which has rolled into mud and grass and bitter Artemisia and still holds the remnants of that contraband cigarette he smoked (or some weed, according to some!) when he was waiting for the call for action. Her own female scent has permeated the lining with warmth, her floral-laced soap and powder, her brunette feral muskiness and the mossy feel of wet earth underneath. There is an androgynous energy travelling throughout the scent with a hint of S/M which addresses our need to reassess how we view women and their role. Bandit’s copious sillage and intense bitterness will surely make eyebrows rise and mother-in-laws shake with trepidation upon meeting you; unless they’re elegant and mischievous themselves, in which case they will reply with a wink.


It is of interest to note that men could carry off Bandit admirably and in fact lots of older gentlemen apparently do, according to French sales assistants working for the brand! Also interesting is that there an eau de toilette of Bandit is/was aimed at men, sold at Fragancenet.com: the main difference being it is very rough, with a distinct lineage to Aramis and a golden cap instead of the usual black one for the ladies.

Bandit had stayed in the shadows for long, before the fashion hysteria for Fracas in the 1990s brought deserved attention to the forgotten house of Piguet again. Indeed it was upon re-seizure of the Piguet house by Fashion Fragrances and Cosmetics that it got re-issued by Givaudan’s nose Delphine Lebeau.

The matter of its various concentrations and shades of difference betweeen different batches within the same concentration merrited its own research.
Therefore, for clarity we state the following: The original vintage composition came in parfum, eau de toilette and eau de cologne. The eau de toilette is the sharper of the lot, while the eau de parfum is greener. Parfum is sublime and smooth, but I am perfectly happy with my eau de parfum. This was a later, indeterminate addition, resulting in two versions of Bandit eau de parfum circulating in the market: one is the certified "new" version (which I have) which is close to the original, vintage formula that bears a certification on the box; and the other is the "reformulated" version that got issued before 1996 under Andrian Arpel. That intermediary version manufactured by Adrian Arpel is the one that was sold until 1996/1997 and older stock on etailers might be it. The bottles do not present visual differences in their opaque black with yellow edge around the label, apart from the box.

The certification on the box reads:

"Certification
This is the original formula for Bandit
created by this company with Robert Piguet
for the introduction of the perfume in 1944
Errol G.W.Stafford
President
Givaudan perfume corporation"

To help matters more, the “original” version also states “made in France”, while the other does not.
The eau de toilette that circulated under Andrian Arpel (Alfin inc. being his previous company name) bears this label:

“Parfums ROBERT PIGUET
Made in France
For Alfin.inc
New York NY
10019”

The official Piguet site does not mention eau de toilette at all. However they do mention a body lotion available.
Bandit is available online at Barneys, Bergdorf Goodman, Nordstrom, First in Fragrance and various online stores (just keep an eye for all the different batches!)

Notes for Robert Piguet Bandit: galbanum, artemisia, neroli, orange, ylang ylang, jasmine, rose, tuberose, carnation, leather, vetiver, oakmoss, musk, patchouli.

And a lucky draw for our readers: if you want to be elligible for a sample of the Eau de Parfum, to see what all the fuss is about, please state so in the comments!

EDIT TO ADD: As of late 2012, a new reformulation of Bandit is under way by perfumer Aurelien Guichard to comply with latest IFRA allergens restrictions in fragranced products. Please note that the review refers to previous to that reformulation batches. We will update with a comparison as soon as a sample of the reformulated lands on our lap.

Pic of Bandit ad by okadi. Painting of Sappho by Mengin courtesy of perso.orange.fr. Pic of Bandit Eau de toilette from Fragrancenet.com

Twin Peaks: Iris Poudre, UDV Pour Elle, Ferre by Ferre

As improbable as some comparisons seem, like say contrasting a beaming, shinning Mercedes KLC to a tiny compact Smart, sometimes they hit the nail on the head: both cars are made by the same makers. There are of course countless details that separate them, but they are equally attended to for standards of quality.
Which brings us to our improbable theme today: The augustus scent of Iris Poudre by Editions de Parfums Frédéric Malle side by side to the lowly and humble Ulric de Varens Pour Elle.

Iris Poudre needs no introduction, really. Although I haven't reviewed it in full yet, it is probably my favourite within the confines of this much esteemed niche brand that caters to the tastes of perfumephiles and perfumers both: The former because they can sample the vision of some of the best noses of our days with trully good ingredients. The latter because they are at last given free reign to do what they had always wanted to do but couldn't, due to commercial restrictions.
Iris Poudre was created by Pierre Bourdon, one of the finest noses in the field. Frédéric Malle professes that "if it were a garment, it would be a cashmere sweater - classic but personal, appropriate for most occasions, something one never tires of". Although touted to be a grand floral aldehydic, to me it has no distinct relation to aldehydic fragrances that people perceive as typical of their classification, such as Chanel No.5, Madame Rochas or Arpège. It is subtler and less sparkly, more powdery. However it does have touches of the cool allure and rosiness of Rive Gauche or Calandre, both scents with a beautiful coolness contrasted with a little warmth in the base. Iris Poudre utilises the caramel butteriness of tonka bean, the cosiness of musks and just a hint of fluffy vanilla to instill that faint warmth that surrounds you like a precious pashmina on a chilly evening on a walk back from the theatre or an art exhibit.

Ulric de Varens is a french brand founded in 1982 that features in the mainstream and lower end of distribution, appearing in what the Americans call "the drugstore". Apart from the eponymous line, they also produce the Lily Prune line and the Jacques de Saint Prez line. And yet their offerings are often surprisingly good: their Patchouli Chic was one of the better scents to feature that note by popular vote, their Sublime Vanille and also their Ulric Fun are composed by none other than Jean Claude Ellena, their UDV Men is composed by Maurice Roucel. Coincidentally two of the bright stars in the gallaxy of F.Malle. You get the drift...

Ulric de Varens Pour Elle also known as UDV, came out in 1999. It is a delicate, powdery floral with the merest hint of woody sweetness in the base. According to the official press release:

Pour Elle contains pear, finely supported by the king accord of Rose, Jasmine and Lily of the Valley, with a layer of sensual, bewitching white musks which open up thanks to precious woods and sweet scents of Vanilla.

Although it is advertised as a fruity, musky floral, to my nose there is no really discernible fruity element and the predominent impression is that of the smooth powdery accord of iris. The impression is quite realistic. Which in itself might be a good indicator of what is an industry secret: that lots of perfumes that claim iris notes construct the acccord with synthetic molecules and not the dearly costly rhizomes of the Florentine variety.
There is really no discernible rose or jasmine per se, but rather the hazy impression of a floral bouquet dusted with air-spun powder and a little icing sugar. It smells ivory, betraying the pink shade of the juice itself. There is a soft, caressing, cosy quality about the musks used and a little woodiness. The whole is very feminine and smells much more expensive than anticipated. Contrasted to Iris Poudre it shares much in the beginning stage, when both diffuse with little puffs of liquid snow. It then warms up, somewhat more pronounced than Iris Poudre and with a sweeter drydown phase which is perhaps its shortcoming side by side with the aristocratic dryness of the Malle fragrance. The latter is simply rootier, earthier, with a slight nod to Iris Silver Mist by Lutens or Hiris by Hermès.

UDV’s whimsical and rather kitchy little purse bottle (the spray is atop the upper part of the "bag" part) in a horrible plastic case might have better served a teenager's budding boudoir rather than my more somber vaults, but it will have to pass. As it is, it is an indulgence one can spray with abandon and toss with no regrets when it eventually spoils.

Ulric de Varens Pour Elle can be found in the drugstore as well as online stores and comes in:
- Eau de parfum 30 et 75 ml
- Déodorant Spray Parfumant 125 ml
- Coffret EDP 75 ML + Déo 125 ml
- Coffret EDP 75 ml + Body lotion 75 ml

Addition:
Ferre by Ferre is another fragrance that I got round smelling prompted by my readers and found out that it has numerous similarities to Iris Poudre, indeed: in fact this is not so strange, as they were both created by the same perfumer, the great Pierre Bourdon. They do smell almost identical, if you lean a little on both, with perhaps the possible exception that Iris Poudre has a slightly more metallic finish in its development that is more distinctive and a little aloof, with an aldehydic tinge perceptible. The lasting power is comparable.
However, for those of you who cannot get Iris Poudre easily, Ferre by Ferre is a great alternative and with a much more respectable-looking, architectural bottle than UDV pour Elle .

Twins by Dianne Arbus courtesy of Transindex. Pic of Ulric de Varens Pour Elle bottle from the official site. Pic of Vogue cover from 1950 by Jeannie Pattchet from allposters.

Too many launches? Some perfume history...

We have been saying it among ourselves -and hearing it discussed in perfume circles- constantly recently: there are just too many launches. Enough!

So it came as a mild surprise upon reading Le Parfum by Jean Claude Ellena in French (on which more commentary later on) that it might have always been so, actually...
In the span of Les Années Folles (the 20s) and a little later, the surgence of couturiers/fashion designers gave rise to the marketability of perfume as a means to consolidate the image of the designer, the unique positioning of each house. And thus it might have inadvertedly inaugurated the modern commerce of fragrance as a commodity to indulge as a final step in creating a "look".

Paul Poiret was on the vanguard: a true "dandy" of the Belle Époque who realised that it was vital to imbue everything produced under the umbrella of his name with his unique spirit and image. His line Les Parfums de Rosine is celebrated for the quality, although he commited the romantic error of not signing with his own commercially established name but with his daughter's; which might have cost it in the marketability stakes.
Poiret was the first designer to hire a professional perfumer-chemist, Maurice Shaller. Between him and Henri Alméras, la maison Poiret produced 50 original perfumes between 1910 and 1925. It bears repeating: 50 different perfumes in 15 years. The number is impressive, to say the least! Surely not that different than what most major houses do these days: one launch for autumn-winter and another in the summer (often a flanker of the previous one) and perhaps a male counterpart to satisfy that portion of the market as well.

The Callot sisters, couturiers themselves, also imitated the move and decided to create a fragrance line of numerous offerings that would be circulated exclusively for their esteemed clients. The evocative names range from Mariage d'Amour (=marriage out of love) to La fille de roi (=the king's daughter) to Bel Oiseau Bleu (=beautiful blue bird) and we are led to believe they were catering to the ever expanding desires of the bourgeoisie who were frequenting their boutique.

During 1925-1950 French couturier Lucien Lelong was ever prolific, producing 40 fragrances in a short span of years, before retiring in 1952. The first ones bore the cryptic symbols-more-than-names A,B,C,J, and N.
The number of launches though is impressive: almost 1 new fragrance every 7-8 months! Think about it.
The Guerlain catalogue is also rich in numerous launches, often in the same year. Case in point the multiple fragrances created within 1828, 1834, 1873, 1890, 1895 and 1922, to name but a few ~although they do have the difference that they were commissioned by patrons. But still, this shows that fragrance houses were prolific even back then.

In light of the above it is perhaps not entirely correct to accuse houses of producing too many products. What is more accurate is to realise that there are simply astoundingly more perfume companies, designers, niche perfumers, celebrities and various entities today, all tangled up in the dubious world of perfumery. Perhaps they have cottoned up to the fact that perfume is "the most indispensible superficiality", to quote Colette, and therefore have been producing fragrance as a quick means to make a point, consolidate a brand or simply to make a quick buck. But they have had illustrious paradigms to the practice: who can blame them, really?



Pic by TonyM/flickr