Better Butter? Doblis by Hermes: fragrance review

At Hermès, craftsmen work with various luxurious materials: Barenia calfskin, Mysore goat (chèvre Mysore), and taurillon Clémence, as well as lizard, ostrich and crocodile skins. One of them is "Veau velours Doblis" suede. This suede comes from a variety of cowhide that is treated in such a way as to render the most velvety, buttery tactile feel on the hand.

As I pass outside the boutique Hermès at the buzzing city center, I swift on my heels to catch a passing glimpse on the shop window at the corner, opposite the jewelry stores of hefty carats and heavy industrialists. The version of the Birkin bag in marron glacé especially is trully breathtaking, reserved for someone who commissioned it, catching my eye inadvertedly ~despite my realization that the prices of those bags are so obscene as to sound almost unethical in a world of hunger and pain. The covetability of the item as an almost obligatory status symbol in recent years, referenced and ultimately spoofed in pop culture, demeans the sheer beauty of the noble materials and the superb craftmanship and makes me view it with added apprehension. It does pose a big question mark over such an object of abject, materialistic excess and it leaves me with a bitter taste in my mouth.

In the words of Comité Colbert, however, an organisation for the protection and patronage of luxury French brands:

“It’s not a crime to love luxury and talk about it. Even if people have their doubts because it can go hand in hand with excess; even if luxury is often confused with wealth and today does not suggest rarity so much as products, corporations and industry.”

So let’s talk about Doblis: The rare gem that shines in the milky way of scents, this time!

Trés elégante, Doblis the fragrance has the pedigree not to shout its aristocratic lineage. Instead it whispers seductively of good taste, restraint, moderation and sheer quality. It is bon chic, bon genre always, just like the silk scarves of the house, and it smells like old money.
Doblis was conceived in the fertile imagination of perfumer Guy Robert in 1955, a perfumer who has worked on emblematic Hermès fragrances such as Calèche and Equipage; both echoing the tradition of the saddle –making luxury brand first established in 1837. Doblis was re-arranged and festively re-issued in winter 2005 to commemorate 50 years of its launch by Guy's son François Robert (according to French Osmoz) who has also worked on many of the modern Parfums de Rosine (the latter incidentally do not bear any relation to the inspiration of Paul Poiret who first issued the line).

Coming across Doblis I am reminded of sniffing an upholstery catalogue of leather and suede swatches as a child. A family lineage of architects, among other things, meant an early familiarity with the materials used in interior decoration. Those alternatively buttery and acrid pieces of treated hides held a secret of initiation: Codes like P25, P5, P12 and P2; and dreamy names like cinnabar, parchment, stone and oyster to correspond…


There are elements of the aldehydic soapy waxiness of both Calèche and Madame Rochas, other revered Guy Robert perfume creations, but in Doblis the effect I get is warmer than the former and less prim than the latter with the addition of an herbal accent. The floral touches of noble Grasseois rose and jasmine blossoms meld right into the skin; they do not stand out, merging with the leathery touch that makes its presence instantly known.
Comparing the current extrait de parfum on my wrists with my tincture of natural deer musk with its warm, almost urinous smell, asserts that the natural component does not make an appearance. Yet there is a refined animalistic streak running through the background of Doblis with an orientalised feel that takes some inspiration from the warmth of Shalimar. The finely sweet aspect of a leather accord in this fragrance might suggest inclusion of styrax and the suaveness of sandalwood. Its smoothness is only comparable with the seamlessness of the rather more easily procured Diorling. Still, it is an indulgence that will leave me sad when it runs out.

Official notes:Chamomille, coriander, thyme, rose absolute, jasmine absolute, leather, moss, musk infusion.

The bottle of Doblis is inspired by a lanterne de calèche, the lantern on an exquisite type of horse-drawn carriage {you can see a comparable model clicking here and many more antique looking models if you're so inclined here}.
A cabouchon cap wrapped with a leather cord of Doblis suede velours crowns it. Only 1000 numbered, collectible bottles of extrait de parfum were issued in 50ml/1.7oz and they make infrequent and extravagant appearences on Ebay. Samples, however, are available at The Perfumed Court.

Painting Alphonse De Toulouse-Lautrec-Monfa (1838-1913) Driving his Mail-Coach in Nice, 1881 courtesy of allposters. Pic of bottle from Osmoz.

Valentine's Day Wishes

Perfume Shrine grabs this opportunity to wish its readers the best that life can give: true, unconditioned love. The way we pictured it when we had childish, idealistic eyes.
May this day, as well as all the subsequent ones, be filled with the passion that rocks the leaves of a young-in-spirit heart.




Please check back later for a surprise post concerning a true gem!

Pic courtesy of devaneiosdacordoceu

The Case of the Jolie-Laide Madame ~Jolie Madame by Balmain: fragrance review

"A writer should write with his eyes and a painter paint with his ears".

~Getrude Stein

It is perhaps fitting that a review of Jolie Madame, the leathery fragrance by Germain Cellier created for couturier Pierre Balmain in 1953 should start with a quote by one of his famous clients who graced this perfume with her preference over others* [*actually this last bit isn't conclusive as Stein died in 1946 as pointed out by our readers, assuming the fragrance was originally created in 1953, and not before, for her own use].

Like Stein herself, Jolie Madame bypasses jolie (=pretty) for stunning and makes you experience it with other senses than the designated one.

I personally remember first smelling it from an almost empty little bottle of parfum on my grandmother’s dresser: a woman who had a way with poetry as well and spoke no less than 7 languages.

On meeting Stein, Alice B.Toklas, her longtime companion and her Paris confidante, wrote:

“She was a golden brown presence, burned by the Tuscan sun and with a golden glint in her warm brown hair. She was dressed in a warm brown corduroy suit. She wore a large round coral brooch and when she talked, very little, or laughed, a good deal, I thought her voice came from this brooch. It was unlike anyone else's voice--deep, full, velvety, like a great contralto's, like two voices”.

~Mellow, 1974, p. 107-08

It is this sound coming in a stream of conciousness as I think of the sonorous merging of violets and leather that is at the verdant core of Jolie Madame: two voices, the pitch of a deep contralto.
Cellier was an iconoclast working with essences and concepts that were rejected by other perfumers because they weren’t au goût du jour: her hyperbole of galbanum dosage in the vintage Vent Vert (a Balmain creation that trully is the antipode of everything Jolie Madame stands for), the assertion of isobutyl quinoline rendering the leathery note in Bandit, the rubbery nuances of tuberose in Fracas that has an almost trigeminal effect to our brain.

Directly inspired by her previous work in Bandit and to a lesser degree in Fracas, Cellier set out to create something for Balmain that would smother leather with an unexpected accord: the duskiness and powderiness of violet.
Violet has an old-fashioned, Victorian connotation, because historically that was the zenith of their popularity. Violets also have a reputation of an aphrodisiac effect, albeit a tempered one. And for that reason they have been featured in pastilles as well as other edible treats. However the surprising fact is that it was the sweet, powdery flowers which were prized then, whereas it is the greener-smelling leaves which are now used in commercial perfumery. As the floral absolute is labour intensive and therefore prohibitedly expensive the recreation of a violet accord is composed with 2,6-nonadienal, beta-ionone, dihydro-beta-ionone and alpha-ionone in addition to other elements.

Jolie Madame marries violet with the ingredient which lends Bandit its harsh, demonic character: quinoline. But whereas Bandit is un parfum figuratif, trying to give the rendition of quinoline’s acid pungency, Jolie Madame is not as much. Instead alongside violets it takes some elements of the gardenia chypres that were popular at the times, yet pushing the envelope all the way. Lots of the chypres in that genre began as a mossy composition embracing a heart of gardenia rendered by styrallyl acetate, a substance naturally found in gardenia buds. Featured in Ma Griffe, which was at the time considered the pre-eminent debutante fragrance, as well as in Miss Dior, it bestows its feminine, oily fattiness to the proceedings attracting women who still kept a little girl hiding someplace in their hearts. Leather scents, on the other hand, whether they were strictly adhering to the chypre structure or not, were not as well-received and popular in a time of traditional values and fashion sense (the 1950s) as the gardenia chypres.

Jolie Madame therefore took a risk: a calculated one, given Balmain’s fashion apotheosis in that decade in the halcyon days of Paris fashion dominance, but still a dare. It was unapologetically the scent of a woman, not a debutante, and it mirrored Stein’s words who claimed Paris was her hometown as much as America was her country:

“…in our American life where there is no coercion in custom and it is our right to change our vocation so often as we have desire and opportunity, it is a common experience that our youth extends through the whole first twenty-nine years of our life and it is not till we reach thirty that we find at last that vocation for which we feel ourselves fit and to which we willingly devote continued labor”.

~Mellow, 1974, p.67-68

Indeed, much as I try, I would find some difficulty in gifting a very young woman with the wonder that is Jolie Madame. The acrid opening of artemisia that vibrates at an emerald frequency is otherworldly and trully awesome. It has a passing resemblance to the minty top of Halston, a scent that came two decades later, at the time of the resurgence of emancipated chypres.
Less strident than brigant Bandit, not as dry as Chanel’s Cuir de Russie but with a more animalic streak running into alleys of deep castoreum and womanly civet, Jolie Madame opens up to reveal a vista of patchouli and moss-laden powdered hides. Its roguish leatheriness stays on throughout, lasting exeptionally well even in the modern eau de toilette. To reference Luca Turin, everything in Jolie Madame is mature, powdery, evolved.

On that note it bears mentioning that the reformulations have not been tremendously respectful to the original and in fact there have been at least two of those: one occuring about 3 years ago and one in the late 90s. I can’t profess an opinion on the most recent edition other than I have heard it described as more aldehydic and with a more pronounced iris heart while trully different than the version which I enjoy; the latter is deeply mossy and leathery, uninhibited rather than demure.
The lighter-coloured version comes in the rectangular bottle with grey label surfacing on many online stores. The vintage is coloured like fine thyme honey and encased in a bottle as the one depicted.

Pic by Migr.

The Dirty Secrets of the Grey Market & Fakes

In addition to the revelations of the exceedingly low costs of several fragrances on the market that we discussed recently, Perfume Shrine continues to be inspired by the juicy behind-the-scenes reportage by Chandler Burr in The Perfect Scent. Unfortunately it corroborates all our worst suspicions and the hush hush gossip we have been hearing from people in the know: "The biggest, dirtiest secret is that you have to sell your products to yourself" as one French executive had revealed. Now that it is in the open, we feel at liberty to discuss this.

The parallel market is what is at the bottom of all this. Burr brings the example of Chanel France who makes the products and has to sell to Chanel USA (there goes the myth, then, dear readers!), who in turn sell the products to the distributors ~where you go and buy your fragrances.
This official practice however is supplemented by them selling to the Arabian Peninsula as well ~Dubai. Which is lawful of course, but which leaves the margin of the latter liquidating the products at some indeterminate moment to dirty little stores on less respectable avenues. Something that was not intended by the headquarters.
This is what happened with the cheap bottles of normally expensive Creed fragrances that so often raise their heads in Ebay or certain sellers online: the grey market. {click for a coherent explanation of how this works}.

Basically valid when the dollar is stronger than other currencies, the grey market operates on

"goods that are legitimately imported from abroad, carry a recognizable trademark or brand name, and are sold at significant discounts outside of the manufacturer's normal channels of distribution".

To restraint such disreputable practices that mar the cachet of any prestigious brand, companies try to shut down those distributors, but more importantly they try to control diverting by marking their product. This practice also protects the consumer from the cheap fakes which circulate as well, usually made in the Far East, more of which later on.
The lot numbering on Chanel bottles started for this exact purpose and they marked the boxes with the country they would sell to (such as, indeed, Dubai). Apart from the etching on the bottom of the glass, Chanel bottles bear a four digit code on the back side of the bottle, just over the base: very discreetly, but there, able to be traced. However diverters soon realised that it was possible to open the boxes, alter the numbers and re-shrinkwrap them. The answer by the legitimate producer was to use invisible ink, but it is a universal thuth alas that anything one devises, another is able to crack...

What is perhaps more intriguing still is that now there is a new technological breakthrough that like a version of Brave New World gone tangibly real it manages to genetically imprint the juice with a recognisable substance that is readable by a gunlike machine which picks up its signal. Very futuristic, no?
Of course this is not very useful to the consumer, who does not possess such a machine, nor is he/she privy to the fact that there is such a process in practice anyway!
To give you an example, this is one method that Jean Paul Gaultier parfums (and therefore Givaudan who produce them) are known to go through. In those beautiful torso bottles there is some genetic stuff floating around that is identifying the juice as the genuine article; something we hadn't thought of when we dabbed the fragrant liquid on our skin.
Other companies such as Chanel do equally well in protecting themselves, with their own methods. Others yet, like the Louis Vuitton Moet Hennesy group (which includes Dior, Givenchy, Guerlain, Kenzo, Lowe and Aqua di Parma parfums) do less well apparently, per the industry gossip.

The following info is especially eye-opening:

"If you take all the sales, 50% are sold in these parallel markets. It helps Chanel France's bottom line, but it hurts Chanel USA's bottom line. Nowadays it's such a common practice it's become uncontrollable. And even the parallel market is in its worst state everywhere because heads of companies have to make their yearly numbers, and so at the end of the year they get desperate and start pouring product into the legitimate markets, which then overflow into the parallel market, which right now is actually flooded".

~Chandler Burr, The Perfect Scent, Holt 2008, p.156

Which brings us back to the matter of fakes as well. Parallel market presence is indavertedly a sign of recognition of a brand's recognisability as much as the production of fakes is a sign of desiribility of the original product.
It is no accident that Chanel is the brand whose products from cosmetics to fragrances have been most copied and faked: it is universally the most recognisable beauty brand and enjoys iconic status accounting for much of its sales.

But time to get practical for the benefit of the customer. In order to differentiate a fake from the original product one has to pay attention to certain details: Usually the cap and lid are not quite right and less luxurious than they should. There is no engraving on the bottom of the bottle but rather a stick-on label, or else the etching is badly made. The logo isn't as sharp as the one on official product in stores, denoting lack of the proper equipement to implement it in the first place. The glass can be a little streaky, not uniform, a sign of inferior quality. And of course in a fake too often the smell is off, with overwhelming alcoholic opening or a stickiness later on, and the colour is not as it should be.
For those reasons, perhaps despite the elevated prices it might be a good idea to purchase your Chanel bottles at a regular store.
But as always whatever you do, it is in your interest to be informed. For this purpose, Perfume Shrine recommends those two Ebay guides for spotting fake Chanel perfumes.
Here is the first one focusing on specific bottles and here is another one about Coco Mademoiselle in particular with info on the box as well.

Accompanied with pics, they are a little nudge to let you make the right choice.

Pic of Eiga Japan from Ebay sent to me by mail by a friend :)

Valentine's preparation: movie and a fragrance

Valentine's Day might seem rather corny to you (and to me): after all, isn't the point in celebrating love every day? But the pleasure-factor of watching a romantic film hand in hand with your loved one, silently hunched onto each other in a dark theater or at the abode of one's home and enjoying an accompanying fragrance shouldn't be shunned due to such esthete concepts as mentioned above. It gives us a wonderful excuse to indulge into a little cinematic game, of which Perfume Shrine never tires. Hopefully, neither have you, dear readers.

So, without further ado, here is what I came up with for today: Let's pick some trully romantic movies, watch the clips I selected and match the mood they exude with a perfume to wear. Shall we?

One might as well begin with the sacred cow that is Casablanca: not because of its screenplay and acting so much (although they too are wonderful), but due to its superb direction and editing, it should be taught in every film school. And it is. The final shots of Ilsa boarding the plane should be taught in every fashion school as well, but I digress. The story is eternal, the repercussions of such decisions echo in eternity and any other ending would be colosally less brilliant.


(uploaded by kayjae)


There is really nothing that can be worn lightly in view of such a torrid affair as the drumroll of war is marching on. Perhaps the introspection and melancholy of Après L'ondée by Guerlain suits the mood more than other scents. Another choice would be the suave 31 Rue Cambon from Chanel Les Exclusifs with its inherent veil of elegance over human warmth and tenderness or the white, heartbreaking beauty of Un Lys by Serge Lutens. All trully Parisian scents, the Paris they will forever cherish in their hearts.

One of the lighter, funnier romantic comedies I have been enjoying every chance I get has been Down with Love with Renee Zellwegger and Ewan McGregor from 2003: a superb homage to the Doris Day-Rock Hudson movies.
In a very accurate (down to the last detail!) retro early-60s-style it tells the story of Barbara Novak. A feminist advice author, she shuns love only to get caught under the spell of Catcher Block, a playboy who, disappointed when no longer able to pursue his affairs due to her book's success, goes undercover in an attempt to "break" her and prove the falacy of her axiom. I will leave the end for you to discover if you haven't yet.
Pure unadulterated, unapologetic fun and with the usual amazing singing by Ewan, who could be an excellent singer any day.


(uploaded by catalinadarling)

Since this is about the eternal battle of the sexes and so firmly set in the 60s I suggest you watch it with a good swooooosh of nearly unisex Eau Sauvage by Christian Dior. This light, citrusy spell with a fresh whiff of jasmine aroma will have you longing for spring days of love.
Or you could go for Parfumerie Generale Eau de Circe, a potion for a light-hearted hip seductress and Pillow of Flowers by Parfums Armando Martinez which is as luminous as a string of pearls over a colourful, tailored shift dress.

The way we were (1973) by Sydney Pollack is arguably one of the better known tearjerkers in cinematic history as we all feel a pang of silent pain as we watch the determined heroine unexpectedly meet the object of her younger days adoration in the arms of another woman years later, simply stating: "Your girl is lovely, Hubbell". Their separation due to different goals in life holds a moral tale: Jewish Katie with her leftish views doesn't quite fit on the arm of WASP Hubbell who is a promising writer who ultimately compromises his talent. But as her personality shines through in the duration of the film, his own shortcomings, despite the smashing looks, become poignently apparent.
However I chose not to show you a clip of the film in question, but off the beaten track rather go for a glorious reference of it in pop culture: from the finale of season 2 of Sex and the City , in which Carrie identifies with the heroine. Be sure to watch this in its entirety, it is trully funny and sensitive.


(uploaded by denysa25)

If you want to pop in the DVD and watch it (again or for the first time), might I suggest you bring out the quite good scent by Sarah Jessica Parker herself, Lovely: musky but refined, it doesn't quite fit the last lines, but it is very pretty. As much as Sarah Jessica's gown with all those blonde curls are in the final scene.
If you are after the wild mood suggested by the final line however, you should choose Vero Profumo Onda: a beast of a scent that is trully untamed!



Romantic tales couldn't be left without one of the most lyrical films in the history of cinema: Elvira Madigan (1967), a Swedish film of the doomed affair of a circus acrobat and a married lieutenant with kids. Set to the ethereal 1st movement of Mozart's piano concerto No.21 it utilizes the beauty of swedish midsummer nature as the backdrop of its beautiful heroes.

visit videodetective.com for more info

Dzing! would be the obvious choice if you want to evoke the atmosphere of the circus, yet somehow the scenery is too beautiful for such a quirky (albeit fabulous) scent. The hay stacks, the summer skies, the youthfulness of both protagonists' features call for Extrait de Songe/L'ete en douce (the name it has recirculated under) by L'artisan Parfumeur. Perhaps the tragic tale behind Fleur de Narcisse, the limited edition of L'artisan from 2006 is even better suited to the fateful end of the two lovers.


Sometimes, romance comes with the feeling of a well-worn slipper. What I mean: Sometimes, love is under our own nose and is someone we're taking for granted. Just like Harry and Sally and their meeting. Or rather series of meetings which culminate into genuine friendship. And then romance. And then...
But surely, you have watched this modern classic about relationships!


(uploaded by agizemk)

And there is even a perfume reference in the very end: "I love that after I spend the day with you, I can still smell your perfume on my clothes". What other declaration of true love could you ask for?
A fragrance that can be worn casually, with conviction and flair, secure in the knowledge it suits you like your favourite sweater, then. Like Marc Jacobs Amber Splash. Or Tauer's Reverie au Jardin, the softly envelopping of fresh lavender by velvety musk, which can be shared between you two.

Last but certainly not least, my own favourite: the fourth story in the Greek classic film The counterfeit sovereign (Kalpiki lira) from 1955 by Yiorgos Javellas/ In four chapters a counterfeit sovereign is made by an honest engraver guiled by a dishonest seductress to fall into the hands of a beggar and a prostitute and then to a wealthy miser.
In the final chapter, with a gut wrenching performance by Elli Lambeti and Dimitris Horn, a young struggling artist falls in love with a rich girl when they meet at said miser's New Year Eve's dinner when they win a gold sovereign while cutting the traditional lucky pie of the day: upon it they pledge their love, never to sell it and decide to marry. He paints her portrait when he is inspired by her casual "I love you" one day. But hardships come their way and they split, for her to remarry in line with her social class this time. We can feel the bitterness as the former husband says in the gallery: "Unlike the model that posed for it, this is not for sale! This is all mine."
Years later they meet again:
-"The sovereign on which we pledged our love was.....
-Counterfeit.
-Counterfeit...But our love was true, Paul."


(uploaded by elliniki kardia)It never fails to move me...The yearning and poignancy remind me of the delicate silk faille of Pontevecchio W by Nobile 1942...and of course the eternal Mitsouko.



What fragrance would you choose to match the mood of these or your own favourite romantic films?
I'd love to hear.