Une Histoire de Chypre by Molinard and Aedes

If there is one fragrance family that has a very specific history and timeline to its emergence it is the chypre one. Perfume Shrine has explored the historical intricasies shrouding the chypre genre as well as its classifications and production, so readers who have been following us know what to expect by now. {for those who haven’t click the links}

Une histoire de Chypre by Aedes collaborating with Molinard is faithful to its name: it encompasses all the traditional elements that contribute to a classic, elegant, warm chypre. Those fragrances have the rare quality of provoking intense reactions to people who come into contact with them and account for an olfactory souvenir that is imbued in the essence of poignancy.

Molinard allowed delving into their Grasse formulae compedium and the Grassois perfumer Dominique Camilli came up with a 1920s recipe which in turn inspired a composition with genuine reverence to the classic genre. Une Histoire de Chypre was about to be born: a limited edition exclusively for Aedes de Venustas who commissioned it, the uber-fabulous boutique of niche aromawonders pioneered by Karl Bradl and Robert Gerstner.

According to the Aedes catalogue, Camilli was first introduced to Aedes through an article in the December 4, 2005 edition of Style Magazine (a supplement to The New York Times).
At the time Aedes wasn’t the established, well-known perfume afficionado Mekha yet, so the concept of such a boutique seemed like the wildest dream come true. Very soon the idea of collaboration came up over lunch in West Village and the concept of the new fragrance began to take its kismet-kissed shape. Camilli’s father, also a perfumer, was an acquaintance of Coty, the pioneer who helped popularize the modern Chypre in 1917 (although not the first one to introduce one!) bombasting the mysterious odours of the island of Cyprus into the consiousness of the world through his legendary creation.
Everything fell into place and the venture began under the spell of the best omens. According to Dominique Camilli: “We have kept the heritage/spirit of this fragrance using the finest raw materials and ingredients. A quality one does not encounter often in modern perfumery”.

As Une Histoire de Chypre unfolds its aromatic stanzas on the skin, the green hit of galbanum and neroli with whiffs of bergamot rind oil titilate the nostrils. The introduction is unmistakably chypre and proud of it ~enticing, sensual, warm and cool at the same time. A spicy mid-note like cinnamon or styrax emerges soon after, although not officially listed, which recalls the intriguing counterpart in both Mitsouko and Ma Griffe. Its precarious balance with citrus and feminine blossoms is completely successful as the usual bouquet garni of classic chypres peeks through the dimly lit timbre of earthy oakmoss, warm labdanum and sensual patchouli. The jasmine opulence allied with green tonalities and smooth amber is echoing another Molinard 1849 romantic creation and one of my spring and summer favourites: M de Molinard. The whole is enchantingly old-fashioned in the best possible sense and it will cut through a room full of fruity florals and Nutra-sweet-laden scents like a scimitar cutting through the fabric of memory.

Notes:
Top: bergamot, mandarin, neroli, jasmine and galbanum
Heart: jasmine, Bulgarian rose, osmanthus, and iris
Base: patchouli, oakmoss, musk, and amber

The classic Lalique bottle with its black bulb atomiser reminiscent of Old Hollywood style retails for $225 for a 100 ml/3.3oz Eau de Parfum. Exclusive to Aedes de Venustas, 9 Christopher Street, New York, NY 10014.


And for our readers who have no access to this rare exclusive gem, I have a sample to offer: please enter your name in the comments if you want to be eligible for the lucky draw!

Painting "Death of the Gravedigger" by Carlos Schwabe courtesy of art.com, bottle pic courtesy of aedes.com

Chloé: New vs Old

There are perfumes that know what they are doing and there are perfumes on an identity crisis. The latest Chloé belongs to the latter category. You're probably asking yourselves "the latest? Isn't there only one Chloé"? No, actually there are three of them simply named Chloé! Confusing, isn't it? Let's help make the disctinctions.

Michael Edwards lists five Chloé fragrances in total in his compendium: Chloé Narcisse, Chloé Innocence, Chloé Classic (presumambly the original by Karl Lagerfeld: a white floral),Chloé (Collection 2005), and one just called Chloé listed among rosy fragrances (therefore the newest one, out February 2008). The first two are easy to distinguish, the rest not as much.
But let's take matters at the top.

Jacques Lenoir and Gaby Aghion were the designers responsible for the prêt-a-porter fashion house Chloé, founded in 1952. The fashions focused on a romantic vein inspired by the art which had been prompted by the bucolic idyll of antiquity by Longus, Daphnis and Chloe. The dreamy ballet Daphnis et Chloé by French imporessionist composer Maurice Ravel, often collected in romantic compilations helped consolidate an oneiric inpterpretation of what Chloé stands for: fluid, gauzy designs, chiffon and mousseline fabrics, pastel colours.

And so in 1975, when Karl Lagerfeld was designing for them before going on to Chanel, the house came out with its own perfume, simply named Chloé by Chloé : a white floral centered on tuberose, flower of spiritual ruin, carnal, feminine and feisty.
Taking its name from the Greek, which means "green shoot" it was composed by Betty Busse. The original Chloé married the subtle green tinge of leaves and aldehydic peach on top of an avalanche of jasmine, ylang-ylang, honeysuckle and narcissus, with just a whisper of exotic coconut. The drydown of warm skin and a little dry orris powder was indeed memorable. Thus it managed to mark an era, becoming a cult item, none the less because of its weird award-winning bottle designed by Joe Messina which was depicting the stem of a calla lily on the extrait de parfum stopper. It could also be interpreted as an aorta sprouting from a heart, if one is twisted enough...

Although the original Chloé has had many ardent fans through the years I always found that warm, radiant and feminine through it undoubtedly is, it possessed a tad sticky vulgarity that announced its wearer a bit earlier than would be the height of good manners: when within an arm's length, that is! Rumours have been circulating about a reformulation in the 1990s that left something to be desired for those who were devoted to the scent of their youth.
Compared to other tuberose vignettes,the original Chloé is an amateur 9mm to Carnal Flower's 3D-Techicolor and it lacks the rubber gloves of kink that Fracas is hiding beneath its femme façade. Nevertheless it executed its message with conviction and admirable flair.

The new version after 10 years of seeming inertia, alas, does not; and on top of that it marks the discontinuation of the old, classic tuberosey Chloé. The press release by Coty promised:

"The amber floral by Michel Almairac and Amandine Marie at Robertet is meant to embody the classic modern scent. It features a bouquet of powdered florals composed of peony, lychée and freesia. Notes of rose, magnolia and lily of the valley make up the heart over an amber and cedar wood base".

Personally I would not categorise the new Chloé in the ambery floral family. In fact it starts with an hydroponic* freesia accord that reminded me of the intense aqueous opening of L'eau d'Issey as well as its fantasy woody base. The pastel fruit-jelly accord (of which lychee is officially mentioned) has a passing resemblance to the fruity floral character of Cool Water Woman. Bearing in mind that those two are fragrances which I have smelled to death in the 90s, I could do without. There is also no prominent rosiness, at least no next of kin to the noble Bulgarian attars and the whole expires in little saccharine puffs of no great consequence. The attention which had been given to the exquisite, hefty bottle showing love for the detail (the grosgrain ribbon) was sadly lacking in the production of the jus.

No less than three egeries front the new Chloé campaign: American cult icon Chloë Sevigny, model Anja Rubik and French actress Clemence Poesy — "each chosen to represent a different facet of the Chloé woman: romantic; edgy, and sexy and sensual" — they all star in the black & white ad campaign, which you can watch here.


(uploaded by carriefan8890)

It is especially interesting to note that Chloë Sevigny, notorious for her outré performance in the Brown Bunny by Vincent Gallo is from now on and for as long as her contract is valid forbidden to star in comparable projects that might harm the reputation of the fragrance and consequently its sales. "It's very flattering," said Sevigny on being picked to represent Chloé Eau de Parfum, before adding, with a laugh, "I'm concerned that the customers might be confused, though; I have the umlaut in my name while they have the accent. I'm Chloë, not Chloé."
I was also surprised by her comment that Chloé has an edible quality about it in the above clip: I certainly didn't detect anything of the sort!
No wonder Chandler Burr slain the new fragrance in his article in The New York Times.

There is yet a third Chloé fragrance that might be confused with both, usually referred to on etailers as Chloé collection 2005, from the year it launched (it was a spring edition). The info from Parfumessence states that it features

"top notes of water lily, passionfruit, and pear, with a heart of tuberose & gardenia over a base of white woods and musk".

I haven't tried it but it is worth bearing in mind, should one be before a counter on which the sales assistant is not completely in tune to the goings-on in the house of Chloé . And why would she?


{*Hydroponics is a method of growing plants using mineral nutrient solutions instead of soil}.

Pic of ad through Threadtrend.com, of original bottle through Amazon, of new bottle through Glam.com and of collection 2005 through Parfumessence.

What do you want?

Off again for a bit, but I am leaving you with a Poll cum Contest to discuss among yourselves.

"What would you like to read next" is the subject and you can vote in the upper right on the sidebar, just above my profile.

VOTE!!

To make this extra juicy and get to the Contest part, I am challenging you into thinking about your choice and letting us know how you came to your final decision. The wittiest comment wins a generous decant of a niche fragrance!
Although the votes will be calculated only once, you can come back and read readers' comments and try to outdo them numerous times!

So.....À bientôt mes amis!

Pic sent to me unacredited (I believe it's from the Lavazza campaign, but not sure)

Kings & Queens

Perfume Shrine likes to look at new things and when a favourite brand branches out, here we are following the trail like a scenthound. Korres, the Greek skincare and makeup line that has taken the world by storm has launched a separate new body care line, named "For Kings and Queens".The idea behind it is to link specific royal persons with scents associated with their life and beliefs. Naturally, Perfume Shrine's interest was piqued!

Perusing the line there is a wealth of famous people inspiring shower gels and body creams. Beginning back in antiquity, Caspar is associated with Myrrh (it smells somptuous!), the fragrant gift of the Magi to baby Jesus, while Nefertiti takes her bath in Honey. Her name means "beautiful woman who has arrived" and it is inferred that her beauty rituals were complimentary to her loveliness.
Queen of Sheba inspired Pistachio (an unusual choice, don't you agree!) because she was so mad about its taste and aroma that she ordered the country's crops to be solely distributed to her Court.
King Solomon gave the inspiration for Cedar (a very smooth, austere yet sensual smell). The king of Israel, responsible for building the first Temple of Jerusalem used almost only cedar for its amazing properties of resisting decay and smelling fragrantly pious.

The exotics are well taken care of: King of Ceylon has a penchant for Cinnamon, a product accountable for the antagonism of the Dutch, British and Portuguese fighting over control of the island.
Indian Maharajas opt for Mahogany, a woody fragrance inspired by the reddish timber. The King of Sumatra is tied to Pepper and Bergamot : pepper was the most highly prized spice till well into the Middle Ages due to its admirable hot aroma that helped fight bacteria and repel insects which might tamper with food. In Sumatra black pepper has become the stuff of legend with pirates and colonialists fighting over loads of the black gem in merchant ships. The composition is complimented with a classical Mediterranean citrusy tang of bergamot.
Pre-Colombian Aztek Kings are catered for by a spicy Vanilla Pear blend which derives its popularity from its purpoted aphrodisiac properties, accounting for its extensive use among the kings and their wives (along with cocoa). The composition is complimented with a tinge of fresh pear.

Some unidentified Princess of China goes for Jasmine: that one predictably did have me sniffing and resniffing and the association is a particularly dreamy one: since jasmine is such a potent love potion for the mind that awakens feelings of love and passion, she had ordered her gardens to be solely planted with jasmine so that her lover would never forget his vows. A wonderful choice for spring and summer!

Reverting to Europe, I really liked the aroma of Tobacco, associated with Tsar Peter the Great, who actually did favour the habit of smoking himself and encouraged it during his reign, despite the laws against it, since its introduction to Western Europe. The scent is deep with a hint of sweetness and a very subtle citrusy top. I bought this one on the spot, to layer with my leathery scents.
George the III, another European king is associated with Lime: the obscure reason is not tied to his particular preference for the fruit, but rather to his orders for sailors of the Royal Navy to consume lime juice along with their booze to help fight the most dangerous disease of sailors of the past: scurvy, a deficiency in vitamin C due to shortage of fresh produce in ships.
Orange quickly became the fruit of the aristocracy when it was brought back to Europe by Portuguese colonialists travelling to Southeast Asia, but there was no tester for me to get an idea how successful the rendition was.
Queen Isabella of Spain inspired the Cinnamon Orange shower gel and lotion, which marries the spicy taste of cinnamon to fresh orange blossom.
I really liked the Lemon Flower of the Sultans Nasrid of Granada: it reminded me of a warm summer walking in the city full of lemon trees and the cool evening breeze bringing the heavenly smell while passing by the Mauritanic Palace walls. This is my next buy, to layer with Fleurs de Citronnier by Serge Lutens!

The texture of Tobacco is more like liquid caramel and quite dark blackish brown (which is interesting!), somehow coming out in diaphanous big blobs out of the bottle. I don't know if this is characteristic of each and everyone of them though. Nevertheless, to their credit, they are all manufactured without mineral oil nor parabens.
The body butters and lotions come in 9 scents so far, with plans to include more. Some of them are shimmering lotions, such as Caspar Murrh and Chinese Princess Jasmine. While others are thicker, in a texture of body butter, such as Nefertiti Honey; or more runny like a body milk, such as George III Lime. All the products are enriched with Pomegranate, Blue Egyptian Lotus and Malachite (!) extracts.
The bottles are all enrobed in swirly pattenrs of contrasting colours with a different font for each one complimenting the historical trivia.
The prices are more than reasonable, making the line an everyday indulgence.


The official site is really well made with lots of wonderful trivia, a breakdown of the psychological types of everyday royalty (like the Scene Stealer, the Natural Performer or the City Nomad), cult personalities making a cameo appearence and everyday people asnwering questions about their personal kingdoms.

For our friends in the UK, some of them are available at Asos.com

You can email them with querries at: Atyourservice@forkingsandqueens.com

NEXT: a fun feature!! Check back shortly to see ;-)

Pics from Beautycom.gr

Who are we Wearing Perfume for, really?

The above question often crops on perfume discussion fora, on which lovers of fragrances often give the resounding answer "for myself". While I can very well understand and embrace this achillean confidence which aficionados display, I have come to think of it in depth and postulate that there is a grain of self-persuasion in this. How much does perception -both quantitative and qualitative- of a fragrance by our entourage affects our decisions really?

First of all there is the easier factor of the two: quantity. No one wants to go overboard and overapply fragrance. The effect is generally considered repulsive instead of attractive and lately in cubicle-space environments it has started taking a very tangible turn for a perfume anti-mania. Reading on Bella Sugar, I came across this post in which the writer contemplates how her own habit of wearing Angel might be perceived after a smelly incident of another passenger on the commute.
What was most interesting was reading the comments of readers. One of them states:

"I wear what I like, the only person I may sometimes try to please is my boyfriend".

In a way this is almost the nullification of the usual statement that we only wear something for ourselves! Because only too often our other half might not agree with our perfume choices. There is also the desire to please that significant other, thus opting to wear something for their sake or shunning something due to their dislike towards it.
Another declares:

"I wear what I like...I don't think I ever overdo it either".

This is also loaded of the consiousness that applying a little more liberally might offend, which is to be avoided. How far that is from shunning an odour as well as the amount of odour we choose to emit?
This statement is also quite revealing:

"Everyone seems to get offended or in an uproar about something these days. So I just wear what I like and do not care. I would rather smell a nice perfume on a person than their own scent after a day's work."

The persecution mania after perfume wearers has piqued the interest of Perfume Shrine before, when a real incident in Canada gave us food for thought. In a streak of rebellion against too much political correctness one might be tempted to purposely do their own thing regardless.
Additionally:

"When I wear scents its purely for the thought of making me feel good and clean and feminine. If it depended on anybody else I wouldn't wear it. I could care less about luring someone in with womanly wiles, scents, whatever."

Please note the semiotics of "good", "clean", "feminine": perfume has a very demanding task to perform! Besides, although "clean" is a more or less objective term and "feel good" is perceived by the wearer -somewhat dependent on the other attributes, one feels- the term "feminine" is filled with nuance. By its nature it is defined through comparison and juxtaposition. It's not "female", but "feminine" ~who defines what is and what is not feminine?


On Beaut.ie blog, I came across another question: whether one influences one's partner in beauty and scent choice decisions. It is another very valid consideration! One does shape the preferences of one's significant other to some degree at least. Or the old adage if one didn't click with another, the two wouldn't be together applies.

Last but not least on the list of references, on Makeupalley member Winterwheat posted a fascinating quote about whether or not to wear perfume on a job interview:

"Female applicants fared best when wearing no perfume, next best when wearing typically masculine perfume. Both male and female applicants who wore typically feminine perfume did the worst. There's a second study in the same article that looks at the moderating role of sex of interviewer, and it turns out that female interviewers will be more forgiving of female applicants with typically feminine perfume, but male interviewers will not".

~Cczesny, S., & Stahlberg, D. (2002). The influence of gender-stereotyped perfumes on leadership attribution. (European Journal of Social Psychology, 32, 815-828).

Perception and stereotypes are everything, it seems!

The matter of perfume acting as a powerful attraction amulet is rampant in folklore as well as modern pop culture. It is the most common question in discussion fora and emails. Whether there is any truth to it or not is matter for another article and it merits a lengthy discussion at that. The fact that it is accepted and thought upon by so many, however, indicates that there is a prevalent desire to subtly manipulate one’s milieu or sexual prey through the power of olfaction.
Every time we reach for something that has a perceived vibe of “old money” or being artsy we are responding to a need to assert our pedigree and good taste. When we reach for something warm, soft and cuddly we are transmitting our deeper need to be treated with tenderness and care. On those occassions when we pick the dynamo that will get us noticed across a room, we are not only secretly admitting a weakness to ourselves but tough it out through a means that is known only to us but perceptible to all. When we choose to wear something “hip”, we are secretly reverting to our high school uniform becoming a “me too” entity that is accepted for its integration capability. And last but not least, at those instants when we go for the weird and the antisocial we are marking our individual territory much like a feline who is segregating his area of dominance.

On another plane, we are also influenced by choices made for us through osmosis. There is something about peer pressue as well as its complete antithesis: differentiation among peers. They are both sides of the same coin, really: the axis is that in both cases the point of departure is the Other ~compliance or rebellion in relation to someone else.

So what is my point? That true, completely self-taken, insular decision on anything that has to do with taste is a rare thing. Almost like snow in August; even rarer, like a miracle by the Madonna of Lourdes.
The opinions we have heard, the compliments we received or the detractors we have endured, the memories we have of certain smells (and most importantly the sensory/sentimental value we have put upon them depending on the latter being pleasant or unpleasant), our eco-awareness or lack thereof, even our political decisions having to do with who we would like to give our money to, they all shape us. They all contribute in what we choose in the end.

So my theory goes than even if we love the smell of something as non-perfume-related as woodfire, this is not a pre-shaped gene that was passed on to us, nor a spontaneous decision that arose out of the blue, but a formative experience that has resulted in the manifestation of a specific sensibility.
In the words of John Donne: "No man is an island, entire of itself; every man is a piece of the Continent, a part of the main" (Meditation XVII). And no woman either, says Perfume Shrine.

Pic Ball Park Jebusite/Flickr. Pic of Clive Christian perfume courtesy of Living Scotsman.