Opium Dreams ~Opium by Saint Laurent: fragrance review

Was this my life, or did I dream it? That seemingly rhetorical question might drive one crazy given sufficient circumstances. After all, isn't all life, "is all we see and seem but a dream within a dream?" like Poe used to say. Or as the ancient Greeks poetically put it: "οναρ σκιας ανθρωπος" (man is but a shadow's dream).
My thoughts revert to these aphorisms, as I converge Opium by Yves Saint Laurent and Sergio Leone's swansong masterpiece, Once upon a time in America in my mind. My proclivities to the fragrance being a given and my fondness for that final enigmatic scene in which De Niro is beatifically smiling through the somnolent haze of opium vapors, it was natural to be so; if only because, like the drug, Opium is to be worn lying down. Pilgrimage was sorely lacking till now and the Gods have been accusing me of hubris for too long.

History of YSL Opium Perfume
Yves Saint Laurent was at the zenith of his career when he envisioned a decadent, baroque perfume evoking the exotic Orient: "It will be the greatest perfume of them all and we will call it Opium", he said, perhaps with a sideways wink to his own path to hallucinogenics' addiction. The year when the concept was conceived was 1972. It would take another 5 years for it to come to fruition.



The scent was composed by Jean Louis Sieuzac (Sonia Rykiel, Dune, the re-issue of Madame Rochas) in 1977 and art-directed by Chantal Roos, while the vermilion flacon was designed by Pierre Dinand.
Originally the name that Squibb, the American parent company of parfums Saint Laurent, wanted to christen the fragrance was Black Orchid, the same that Tom Ford later grabbed almost 30 years later for his own foray into perfume for what he hoped to be an equally controversial landmark.

Opium was in many ways a landmark: Its fragrance although tracing its lineage to great orientals of the past such as Shalimar, Habanita, Youth Dew and even Tabu (with its carnation-civet accord of "parfum de puta"), was perhaps the first to enter into the floriental category, with its very much detectable carnation, orange blossom and ylang-ylang among the plush of effulgent spice and starched resins, of which oppoponax stars. But also due to the fact that it broke with the previous trends of independent chypres and soft aldehydics, bringing back the orientals which had been forgotten since their last stint during the 20s and 30s and thus inaugurating the fashions for them again, resulting in everyone producing one from Coco, Poison, Ysatis, Boucheron Femme , all the way to Loulou.

Its launch party, at a junk in Manhattan's East River, with orientalised canopies and matching decor, marked the first time such opulence was applied to a fragrance's issue and ignited a series of mega-launches that were to become de rigeur. Its campaign, provocatively proclaiming "for those addicted to Yves Saint Laurent", earned it serious controversy in certain countries: A peanut-growing premier in Queensland, Australia had the perfume banned in his state. The US Federal Justice Department tried to outlaw it. In other countries due to drug import laws it had to be imported under a pseudonym, like contraband, and relabelled within the country.Its subsequent status of a bestseller proved that all the obstacles were within its stride and that man (and woman) is really a creature desiring what seems unattainable.

Bottle Design: the Oriental Inro
The bottle has a no less interesting tale surrounding it. According to Dinand's autobiography, he was working on a stylized inro, the small wooden box samurais carry on their belts, full of little drawers where herbs, spices and opium for alleviating the pain from their wounds are kept. The little drawers are held together by strings (hence the resulting tassel on the Opium bottle) and the top is crowned with a sculpted ball, called netsuke, replicated in the cap. "That's it!" said Saint Laurent, as soon as he saw it and fixed his mind on calling it Opium, the rest being history.
The advertising had always been titillating, starting with sprawled Jerry Hall, progressing to an unknown red-head (pictured above), through to Kate Moss and Sophie Dahl infamously in the nude (therefore banned but you can see it by clicking the link). Currently Malgosia Bela fronts the ad prints.

Lauder had been secretly working on their own spicy oriental, mysteriously also in a vermilion bottle, named after a mercury mineral found in China and smelling close to Opium,Cinnabar, which launched only weeks later. Yet they never had such commercial success with it, a fact that is treated with silence when you point it out to them. Whether there had been some form of trade espionage has never been proven and is only a figment of speculation.

Scent Description
Baptising yourself in Opium amounts to owning a droplet of the Styx, imparting invulnerability, shunning your combination sinners -- your lecherous liars and your miserly drunkards -- who dishonor the vices and bring them into bad repute. It speaks the tongue of angels through the wiles of devils, fanning its brocade-like resins over your humble existence, marring the opulent flowers and the bright citruses (bergamot, lemon and the orange-tinged essence of coriander) by a contaminated hand of animalistic sin. I can't distinguish any of its constituent parts separately, as they merge into a tremendously forceful message of abandon and escapism from the vagaries of life. Was it my life or did I dream it?
The iron-pressed linen note of the aldehydes in the beginning gives off -coupled with the spicy bite of the carnation accord- a rather "clean" veneer, which allows Opium the distinction of being among the easiest orientals to carry without feeling all soiled underneath your dress. The plumminess is closly interwoven with the balsams in the drydown phase, when the fragrance has dried on the skin and only its whispered message remains; quite woods, trickly resins like benzoin, labdanum and opoponax with an animalic darkness to them from the small footnote of pungent, bitter castoreum in the far end.

Opium never fails to bring forth compliments every single time I wear it and it is the robe de guerre on every occasion where ample backbone is required or a new acquaintance is going to take place. People never identify it as such and always ask what is that magnificent fragrance emanating. Sometimes it's perversely fun to see faces fall when I reveal the true identity, other times it only makes me think long and hard about over saturation of a particular scent in the collective unconscious and the detriment that brings to a whole generation who formed bad associations through it being ubiquitous.

Opium Summer Editions and Comparison of Concentrations
My preferred form is the Eau de toilette, which highlights the spicy bite and the moribund balsams perfectly, although the extrait de parfum is another excellent choice. The Secret de Parfum which had circulated at some point during the early 90s in a cut-out bottle from hard plastic in a hue darker than the original flacon was a concentration that turned me off Eau de Parfum (to which it amounted) . Luckily that error in judgment on the part of YSL Parfums has been amended and the current version of Eau de Parfum is merely denser and more opaque, although still true to the scent. The body products in the range are some of the best I have tried in terms of both fidelity to the scent (they have a slightly pronounced orange note which is very agreeable) and texture which melts under your caress. Men have also been catered for through a men's version that is woodier and more aromatic but also rather spicy, Opium pour homme. As a faithful Opium wearer for years I can attest to it being relatively the same despite possible reformulation. If eugenol however becomes seriously restricted -as has been discussed- then it would risk severe disfigurement. {edit to add, June 2010: Alas, it has...}

In later years, many lighter summer versions launched, as limited editions, aiming at making Opium fit for summer-wear and largely succeeding: Summer Fragrance (2002), Eau d'Eté (2004), Fleur de Shanghai (2005), Fleur Impériale (2006), Orchidée de Chine (2007), Poésie de Chine (2008). My personal favourite is Fleur de Shangai among them, replicated closely in the latest version.
This trend might have started by the non-limited, non-alcoholic Opium Fraicheur d'Orient, which got issued for summer in the mid-90s and which introduced a note from Angel and an intense citrus into the composition, to no particular pleasure derived. A limited edition bottle is Opium Orient Extreme from 2007, which only changes the exterior, not the scent.
Various collector's bottles and versions will continue to get made. As long as it captures the imagination of perfume worshippers at its altar.
Notes:
Top: aldehydes,plum,pepper, tangerine, coriander,bergamot, lemon
Heart: clove, jasmine, cinnamon, rose, peach, orris, myrrh, ylang ylang
Base: benzoin, patchouli, oppoponax, cedar, sandalwood, labdanum, castoreum, musk, vanilla



If you want to watch a small tribute to the opium-escaping hero of Leone, click this link for highlights.

Clips through videosift.com and wellgard on Youtube. Pics via parfumdepub

Paris, Je t'Aime ~Paris by Saint Laurent: fragrance review

In a funny little tale recounted to perfume journalist Susan Irvine, the notorious Russian perfumer Sophia Grojsman was followed by a drunk one night, forcing her to walk quicker in the night streets, upon which he called out: "Hey lady, I am not following you; I am just trying to smell your perfume!" Grojsman was working on Paris, the big, ebullient rose fragrance by Yves Saint Laurent, at the time, and this was the moment she realised "she had it". Indeed Paris has the gift -and curse, if you overdo it, as so many did in the late 80s- to be perceptible at a distance, creating a wake that will make waiters swerve on their heels, small children drop their toys to hug you and men exclaiming you smell "clean and feminine".

Yves Saint Laurent, an incurable romantic, created Paris in 1983 choosing rose and pink as the themes around which the fragrance would be built and dedicated it to his beloved city of inspiration and eternal love. A strange, arguably atavistic choice for someone who had caused an uproar a mere 6 years back with his contraband alluding fragrance of artificial paradises, Opium.
The fragrance is a romantic symphony, a sonorous orchestration of reportedly 232 notes blended with the artistry of someone who knows what they are doing. Like a lavish bouquet, Paris’ deepening chords of rose petal notes make the fragrance all the richer in its expression of lush warmth and womanly tenderness.

The fragrance formula actually follows quite closely the 1947 french classic L'Air du Temps (Nina Ricci) but the violet-rose fruity accord of Paris is based on ionones and damascones, aroma materials first discovered in 1893 (ionones) and isolated in 1967 (damascones); they were first used in abundance in another rose fragrance, the fiery Nahéma by Guerlain. Damascones featured heavily in the legendary Nombre Noir and contributed along with ionones to many of the formidable "roaring rose" fragrances of the 1980s. Violets naturally smell of ionones, with equal parts woody and fruity undertones, which makes them such an interesting material for the perfumer.
In Paris the rose is never just rosy: it takes all complex shades and nuances of a living room in which they decorate a flamboyant vase. Honeyed overtones of sweet, ripe fruits as well as liquor whiffs, as of dregs left in small taillé glasses after a hearty dinner, are clearly perceptible in different stages of the development. The whole embraces you in a vice-grip which asserts itself as only very affectionate feminine relatives can be: there is no escape, but you truly know they mean well.



Paris took a more daring turn visually during Tom Ford's tenure which resulted in this racy image for the European glossies. The advertisements, in tune with current designer Stefano Pilati's fashions, have -since Ford's departure from the house- reverted to tamer connotations.

Paris eau de toilette , which is more powdery and "cleaner", has a deep pink cap, while the sweeter eau de parfum has a golden cap and is fruitier. The pure parfum, intensely rosy and potent, is crowned with a prismatic cap in the shape of a reverted cone-exposing brilliant, symbolising Paris, the City of Light; designed by Pierre Dinard according to Basenotes or Alain de Morgues according to Susan Irvine.

Limited editions of versions of the original Paris for the warmer season include: Paris Eau de Printemps (2002), Paris Premieres Roses (2003), Paris Roses des Bois (2004), Paris Roses Enchantees (2005), Paris Roses des Vergers (2006), and Paris Jardins Romantiques (2007), some of which are grouped in a collectible set of minis. Typically they are lighter, girlier and less dense, highlighting a woodier, greener or muskier accord instead.

Notes:
Top: hawthorn, bergamot, juniper berries, carnation, honey, mimosa, orris
Heart: French, Moroccan and English roses, red fruits, pear liquor, violet
Base: heliotrope, musk, amber, cedar, sandalwood

Clip of Paris commercial uploaded by tylw on Youtube. Pic of ad from parfumdepub.

The Spy who Came In from the Cold ~Rive Gauche by Saint Laurent: fragrance review

“What KGB agents would have worn to seduce James Bond”* is not a bad description for any fragrance. But when it applies to an Yves Saint Laurent one you know it has the pedigree and the icy demeanor of Daniela Bianchi in From Russia with Love. Ian Flemming was no shrinking violet when it came to assigning fragrances to his literary heroines, starting with Vent Vert{1} and Guerlain’s Ode{2} and progressing to Chanel No.5{3} and Caron’s Muguet{4}. It would be intriguing to imagine Rive Gauche among the arsenal of his femmes exceptionelles!

Rive Gauche came out in 1971, aimed as the griffe of Laurent’s ready-to-wear line by the same name, meaning “left bank”. Left of the Seine of course, the place of abode for young bohemians and artists at the time. Created by Jacques Polge when his Chanel in-house position was perhaps but a distant dream (Henri Robert was composing the fragrances of Chanel at the time, specifically No.19) Rive Gauche was directly influenced by the ground-breaking Calandre (1969) by Paco Rabanne (which took its name from a car’s radiator grill in French breaking ties with romantic traditions). Like its predecessor it was a modern take on aldehydic fragrances. Contrary to the take-off note of aldehydes in Chanel No.22, where they shine with all the might of a soprano coloratura to extreme sweetness, in Rive Gauche, as well as in Calandre, the aldehydic hit upon spraying is snowy-cold, drier and with all the paradox of the Brave New World ahead: the two fragrances share a metallic rose of frosty petals that tingles the nose rendering that most romantic of blossoms into a hologram of a flower, underscored with the touch of green powder in the form of cool iris and vetiver, the enigma of the spy who came in from the cold.

Aimed at the young, Rive Gauche projected the audacious profile of a chic woman always dressed in electric blue like the silver-banded canister itself. One who flirts freely with a touch of bravado. Yet the fragrance now seems a little caught in the whirlwind of its era although its appeal never fades: it smells classy, not raunchy; mysteriously blue floral, yet non romantic English bone-china-pattern-style ~it’s flinty! And its amazingly salient characteristic is smelling fabulous on just about anyone: any difference of opinion is accountable down to perception and personal taste.

Rive Gauche for Women was savagely altered in a reformulation during the Tom Ford tenure as artistic director of Yves Saint Laurent, with some difference in packaging. A men’s version was introduced in 2003 (in my opinion redundant as the feminine could be worn by a man of confidence), a “formule Intense” which reportedly is closer to the original and thus worth testing if you have fond memories of the latter. The 2004 Rive Gauche Light for women is but a pale shadow of itself, while the non-alcoholic Rive Gauche Fraîcheur from 1995 is a hazy watercolor interpretation that I am sad to report is terribly fleeting.

Notes:Aldehydes, leaf note, galbanum, gardenia, narcissus, jasmine, rose, orris, honeysuckle, sandalwood, oakmoss, vetiver, tonka bean.

Ref:
*Susan Irvine in "The Perfume Guide".
{1: in Live and Let Die, Goldfinger}
{2: in On Her Majesty’s Secret Service}
{3: in The Man with the Golden Gun}
{4: in Goldfinger}

Pic of Bjork by Jean Baptiste Mondino courtesy of MondinoUpdate.net. Pic of Rive Gauche ad courtesy of parfumdepub.

Stunning commercial for Y, by Yves Saint Laurent

Serendipity works in mysterious ways and often in reverse.
I found this amazing and rarely seen clip from at least two years ago, as part of a longer film about Tom Ford (?), for Y by Yves Saint Laurent, while searching for something else. It features model Elise Crombez (credit goes to cyrilguyot.com).
Please enjoy!

Clip uploaded by sweetrus on Youtube.

Who's the Chypriest of Them All? ~Y by Saint Laurent: fragrance review

I can recall down to the minute when I became entangled into Yves Saint Laurent’s vision. It was even before I saw his amazing couture on Betty Catroux and Talitha Getty in the photos of the glossy magazines that my mother used to buy and cut out clippings of when she deemed beautiful; and before I leafed through my father’s art-books with the colorful, geometrical Mondrian and trapezoid Braque paintings.

Specifically the trigger had been an olfactory one: stepping into a taxi out of which a woman wearing Opium had just left. My puerile ears had the good fortune of catching the driver’s phrase “My God, this Opium scent is everywhere and it’s so strong!” My mother nodded her beautiful head in silent demi-assent as she always did when she was too polite to disagree or further an argument. Myself I was not yet capable of discerning nuances of speech so as to differentiate a positive from a negative one. I only seem to recall that that was the most exquisite scent I had ever smelled, I was straining to absorb every single molecule I could attach to my nostrils’ Velcro and I was already seriously longing for it as soon as I stepped out of that taxi. I can’t really recall where we were going, whether our purpose was a practical or social one or what we were wearing or how the driver looked like. My memory obliterated all those things, choosing to cherish only the precious memento of first smelling Opium off the sillage of a complete stranger. Such is the power of fragrance!
It haunted me for years and as soon as I had pocket money or could request gifts of beauty I knew what my little heart desired: the forbidden elixir encased in the cinnabar bottle with the black tassel. Other perfumes came and went and I amassed whatever I could lay my hands on, but Yves Saint Laurent became my first fashion icon through Opium.

Blossoming into a woman I personally discovered other creations of his, which brightened my life with their beauty and style. One of them was Y, his first fragrance for women. Named after his initial, I imagine it also allied to the French pronoun for “there”, since it is definitely very much there: it imposed its presence with elegance and the endurance of a true classic.
Y was issued in 1964 (2 years after Yves's first YSL collection) and was composed by nose Jean Amic in a beautiful, solid, architectural bottle designed by Pierre Dinard.

Exactly two years before Yves was rocking the catwalks with the Norman Smock, a garment debuting more than 1,000 years ago but serving as an inspiration for YSL peasant-looking shirts, Russian tunics, Chinese coats, boho artist's jacket, or even the jacket of a gabardine pantsuit over the years: Yves was already doing what he considered style ~the reference that provides a solidarity to one’s wardrobe away from the dictations of currency. Clothes should be made to last and speak through the years.
Much like his fluid fashions of 1964, with languorous gowns, gracious pantsuits and flowing tunics that draped curves rather than suppressed them, Y the fragrance became the emblem of la maison Laurent: flamboyant if you look at the prism from an angle that the sun catches it producing a vivid rainbow on the wall, restrained if you look at it from an angle where it shines with the natural incandescence of clear crystal.

In many ways Y was a departure from the prim and tasteful aldehydic fragrances of the times such as Le Dix or Madame Rochas, proposing a greener, more subversive, emancipated chypre that would herald the onset of the powerful chypres of the 70s. And yet it did so with elegance, without the shock value of Bandit or the intensity of Aromatics Elixir, yet without betraying the bedrock of the genre’s character. “Which is the chypriest of them all?” And possibly the chirpiest…
Y took the powdery aldehydic notes of previous beauties and gave them a retouch of bluish grey dense brushstrokes of shadow-y depth that mollify the sparkling honeysuckle and the heady hyacinth heart into something that approximates Marc Franz paintings: the striking and angular happily coexist with the curvaceous. Above all, Y highlights oakmoss in perhaps the last composition –up to the time of writing- to retain some semblance of fidelity to the rotting frisée of the parasitic lichen that laces itself upon the mighty oak. Its animalic but classy echo is heard through the urban forests to the pursuit of discerning suitors.
If you have loved Ma Griffe for its spicy emerald song, Chanel No.19 for its audacious herbal iris, the vintage Miss Dior for its naughty seduction under wraps and 31 Rue Cambon as a bastard descendant of the greats who pays a visit when the need strikes and you haven’t tested Y by Yves Saint Laurent yet, serious amiss should be amended before it is utterly ruined.

Notes:
Top: aldehydes, peach, gardenia, mirabelle and honey suckle.
Middle: Bulgarian rose, jasmine, tuberose, ylang ylang, orris and hyacinth.
Base: oak moss, amber, patchouli, sandalwood, vetiver, civet, benzoin and styrax.

Y by Yves Saint Laurent is easily available at department stores and online.

Update on reformulation: the newest Eau de toilette bottles have a gold cap and the Y straight up and down versus a white cap and an italicised Y for the older ones. The name on the bottom of the bottle is Sanofi Beaute for the older ones, the group that YSL Parfums joined in 1993. Sanofi Beaute however was acquired by Gucci Group in 1999 and Yves Saint Laurent has been recently acquired by L'oreal, heralding further tampering with the formula.

Pics provided by "Armanis", posted in fond admiration