Dior-Dior by Christian Dior: fragrance review

Launched by Christian Dior in 1976, four years after the triumph of Diorella and composed by the same nose, the legendary Edmond Roudnitska, Dior-Dior was an astounding commercial flop resulting in its subsequent discontinuation and its firm positioning in the Pantheon of rarities.

It's hard to speculate après le deluge what exactly went wrong. Perhaps it was due to a discrepancy between zeitgeist and the character of the fragrance. By 1976 the advent of emancipated strident chypres as well as the progression from the hippy oils of the late 60s was not simpatico to a woody floral that had pared down the aromatic chypré piquancy of Diorella. And only fairly recently have woody florals for women known a slow resurgence with L'instant Magic, Bond no.9 Andy Warhol Silver Factory, Flower Oriental by Kenzo or the new Sensuous by Lauder and Magnifique by Lancôme.

However, it might also be attributed to the emerging ethos of the fledging perfume marketing: the importance of packaging and bottle being brought to focus much more assertively, the trade aspect getting seriously revved up, perfume being more of a lifestyle object than an objet d'art and copies of copies of things getting produced at a faster rate (although nothing like the alarming avalanche of more recent launches!).
According to Edmond Roudnitska, this resulted in a «olfactive cacophony», lowering of quality and debasement of creativity:

The choice of a perfume can only rest on the competence acquired by education of olfactive taste, by intelligent curiosity and by a desire to understand the WHY and the HOW of perfume. Instead, the public was given inexactitudes and banalities. The proper role of publicity is to assist in the formation of connoisseurs, who are the only worthwhile propagandists for perfume, and it is up to the perfumers to enlighten, orient and direct the publicity agents.

~L'Intimité du Parfum (En collaboration) Olivier PERRIN Editeur, 1974 (availaible at "Sephora" on Champs-Elysées, Paris)

My small, houndstooth-patterned, vintage bottle has a very slightly bruised top note that is neverthless heavy on the indolic, intense aroma of narcissus and white florals, adding the patina of a well-worn, waxed floor with the remnants of cat pee in its cracks . Narcissus naturally extols this aspect, giving a distinctly feral impression which I personally love: from the leathery-laced Fleur de Narcisse by L'Artisan to the paperwhites note in Lovely by Sarah Jessica Parker. Mohammud called its scent "bread for the soul" and I can see why: taking in its heady emanation is on the border of pain, it's so intense!

Dior-Dior also serves as a commemorative recapitualtion of a perfumer's artistic path, a simile of olfactory soliloquy: A melon note which Roudnitska put in several of his perfumes (Le Parfum de Thérèse, Diorella) is discernible, although not in the context of the aquatic fragrances of the 90s: melon in a Roudnitska composition seems to serve as a memento of summery laughs in the autumnal mistiness that the chypre base juxtaposes.
And the fresh jasmine odour of hedione/dihydrojasmonate, first copiously used by him in Eau Sauvage, leaps through, with its verdant, metallic cling-clang, puffing out small breathless sighs everytime I move my arms around; the sort of thing that would naturally mingle with the surroundings of white-washed windows and stucco-ed walls in places where iron rust feeds potted gardenias and people eat feta cheese alongside their watermelon.
The last familiar touch comes from the lily of the valley accord that Roudnitska so intently masterminded for his soliflore apotheosis, Diorissimo. (Arguably the only hommage missing is the Prunol base of Femme and the peachy core of Diorama).
Although all the above "notes" sound "clean", in Dior Dior they are neither freshly showered, nor vacuum-sealed. They breathe and deepen into a very feminine and quite urbane fragrance, far removed from Laura Ashley summer dresses, which persists on skin for hours.

For all its charm however Dior-Dior doesn't talk to me the way Roudnitska's more luminiscent creations, such as Diorella or Eau Sauvage, do. Perhaps it's just as well. Still, my bottle is poised alongside its sibling houndstoothed gems with its regal brow highly arched.

Notes: narcissus, muguet (lily of the valley), woods

Please state your interest if you want to be included in a draw for a sample of this rare fragrance.

Ad pic illustration by Rene Gruau courtesy of Fragrantica. Houndstooth bottle pic courtesy of Musée del Perfum.

I Didn't Vanish

The lure of travelling got the better of me these past few days, for those wondering what happened to their daily dosage of Perfume Shrine. Fragrant sirens had been singing their lulling song for long and demanded my capitulating. I never managed to post a little tidbit for my readers before going, since the preparation for these trips is so rushed and busy, but it's amazing what can one do between and during flights these days, so here I am now.

There will be some scheduled posts appearing shortly: First of all, a review of the super rare Dior-Dior, which was discontinued ages ago ~my perserverence to get a small houndstooth bottle of it paid off~ and the accompanying lucky draw for a winner. Reviews of the new Lancome Magnifique, a woody fragrance for women, along with my thoughts on this latest "trend", as well as a review of the latest Perfumerie Generale's Oiseau de Nuit, a rich, seductive fragrance.
A new Series, one of the most respected and popular features on Perfume Shrine, focusing on a specific material, which I hope will excite you.
Travel Memoirs will continue with more additions, taking you away into some of the scented pilgrimages on my path to Scentdom Come.
And of course lots of other news, musings, info articles, advertising and surprises as well!

Hope to virtually see you all again really soon and read your always interesting and stimulating comments. I will try to pop in and reply as circumstances allow. Thank you all for the continued support, it warms my heart.

Pic of Samsonite luggage courtesy of Retrowow.co.uk.

El Attarine by Serge Lutens: fragrance review

“The topaz of Ethiopia shall not equal it, neither shall it be valued with pure gold.” ~Job 28:19

The golden glory of sunrise over the beige stones of the Merenid tombs overlooking Fez has nothing on El Attarine by Serge Lutens, nor do the riches of Arabia as it encompasses them all in its majestic stride.
"Today, I offer you gold, sun-drenched topaz, everlasting flowers and saps", Lutens and Sheldrake, his magician in the wings, had promised us and this solar fragrance has been most successfully achieved in El Attarine.

"In Arab countries, “attarin” means sweet-smelling, and refers to everything within the realm of the atar: fragrance, heart, flavour and essence". Attars recall the mysteries of the east, its people and the rituals in which they engage. The mingling of smell and taste is not unheard of in the Lutens/Sheldrake cosmos, as both Douce Amère and Mandarine Mandarin are impressions of gustatory speciments (absinthe and mandarin respectively) that reveal side panels of aromas like in a Byzantine triptych ~"Attarine is not a closed door. You cannot make a perfume with only your nose".

El Attarine is also the name of a regal, elite Koranic school in Fez dating from the 14th century: Medersa or Medressa El Attarine, (Medersa means religious school) thus the fragrance is another homage to the Arabic culture that has been providing Lutens with inspiration for the last 2 decades at least. Created in 1325 by Sultan Ya’qub Abu Said Uthman II who also had a hand in several other buildings around the city of Fez, El Attarine is situated at the edge of the spice and perfume market; the unison of carnal to spiritual is only a stone's throw away.

El Attarine, the fragrance by Lutens, bursts like the solar corona of an eclipse that is infused in the honeyed tones of the nectar of orange blossoms. This honey note, probably attributed to phenylacetic acid, which makes a much more pronounced appearence in the derisive Miel de Bois, is here giving an intense sweetness of drops dribbling from a bronze spoon on dried fruits; fruits that lay on a basket at the market under clear blue skies, alongside little squares of heaped spices in all the colours of the rainbow: there is a little cumin, very delicately interwoven, and stamens of red saffron, the very delicate peppery bite of poppy seeds. The milky, sweet tenderness of those nuances vaguely recalls the more intense and sweaty Arabie, with its souk ambience on a hot day. The garlands of jasmine fanned out on woody notes are discreet, as if a glimpse behind a closing shutter leaving us wondering on the surreptitious inhabitants.

And then, after about half an hour, there rises the olfactory focus of immortelle/helychrisum, more commonly known as everlasting flower, aimed at offering a new interpretation that will set a new frontier in fragrance exploration. Both facets of the material, essence and absolute seem to have been utilized: With a complex odour profile, immortelle is a fascinating note with a herbaceous, honey-like aroma in the essential oil whereas it recalls the unique odour of spicy fenugreek (Trigonella Foenum Graecum) in the absolute, imparting amazing lasting power and evoking maple syrup for many. In El Attarine the immortelle note is less maple-like, less sticky than Annick Goutal's archetype in Sables and with less of a curry, salty-pungent note than Eau Noire by Dior. Rather it has the slightly bitter, pleasurable edge also present in L de Lolita Lempicka minus the cinnamon lappings; it offsets alongside a smidge of what smells like medicinal "oud" (a pathogenic secretion of some trees in the Far East) the initial intense sweetness into a progression than holds your attention span for the twists through the alleyways of Fez.

Like the Gettys lying on a starlit terrace in Marrakesh, beautiful and damned and a whole generation assembled as if for eternity where the curtain of the past seemed to lift before an extraordinary future, before the disillusionment and the tragic end set in, El Attarine is a re-affirmation of a passionate relationship with both the past and the future.
El Attarine possesses that most elusive of qualities: luminous translucence which can make a fragrance appear like a faceted gem mounted in 22 carat gold: it catches every ray of the sun as it hits it from different angles into a magnificent study of light. In contrast to the byzantine candelabras of Serge Noire, casting shadows amidst the light, El Attarine is melting under the intense sun of a terrible dawn.

In a Parthian Shot, Serge left us with this cryptogram: "It is an accord born out of a disagreement in the first person. From my attarinian solitude, the fruits of my imagination were abundant".
It is up to you to participate into its solution by trying out El Attarine.
The fragrance is quite lasting but with a rather discreet sillage that shouldn't pose any problems to those who are in your vicinity.

El Attarine belongs to the line of Exclusives sold only in the Salons du Palais Royal in Paris, encased in beautiful bell jars of 75ml.

Pic of Talitha and Paul Getty at The Pleasure Palace in Marrakech, shot by P.Lichfield in 1969 ~reproduced via Telegraph.co.uk. Pic of Limited Edition bottle courtesy of El Attarine via Ambre Gris. Pic of sunrise sent to me by mail unacredited.

An Alarming Phenomenon?

There is fragrant appreciation and then there is fragrance oversaturation. Please visit Anya's Garden blog for a glimpse into what happens what you have too much of a good thing. Let's hope it's just a temporary state!


For those of you who don't suffer for perfume, there will be a surprise review later on, so check back later!

Tolu by Ormonde Jayne: fragrance review

"What is the deeper meaning of the simple but magical expression to "smell nice"? That intangible aura emanating from the skin embraces a hint of linen, a flashing image, a caress of silk and a musical rustle, in other words a direct and powerful link with the unsaid, the unperceived, the unimagined, the impossible and the intangible."
~Dominique Rolin, La Voyageuse

Dramatic oriental fragrances often demand dramatic presence. But should you fall short on the latter, Tolu by Ormonde Jayne is providing that intense feeling that great seductive orientals usually pounce on with a friendlier manner that magically "smells nice" (and so much more!) in a very tangible sense. The first time I put this on, with nothing more glamorous in mind than a dinner à deux at home, I recall it elicited a beloved's interest in finding out what is this golden elixir which suspended time and made that moment an instant of shared passion. It was Tolu of course and ever since it has haunted my dreams: a juicy incense of an oriental, full of the feminine powers of a heroine in a Procopius tale.

Tolu by Ormonde Jayne opens with a full blast of rich, lightly spicy and ambery orange blossom that is intense, envelopping the senses into an embrace of honeyed warmth and comforting powder. The calm powdery feeling imparts a velvety sheen that becomes almost tactile, inducing you to touch and be touched. There are no other floral nuances that emerge distinctly from the composition, unless you really strain to do so. Instead this ambery heat is largely accountable to labdanum, a rich resin with a story of its own. Frankincense, the ecclesiastic incense resin, imparts a cooler touch that tempers the pronounced sweetness of the other ingredients (both Tolu balsam* and labdanum-based ambers are sweet), accounting for a fragrance on a par with great florientals such as L'heure Bleue, Bal a Versailles, Boucheron Femme or 24 Faubourg. If any of these move your heartstrings in a nostalgic melody, you should definitely try Tolu!
The marmoreal quality of these somnobulent resins is queenly and feels like the most luxurious cashmere shawl imaginable in hues of rich burgundy or shady olive.
Beautifully crafted from what smells like expensive materials, it is one of the compositions in the woods-resins family in which Linda Pilkington's good taste truly shines. In a sense this is a hark back to what proper fragrances for feminine women were all about, before the advent of sparse sketches: enhancing the womanly allure, smelling expensive and opulent, but never vulgar, presenting a round, composite formula instead of a clashing juxtaposition of fighting polar opposites for the sake of celebral intrigue. Tolu instead is very much sensed and felt rather than analysed intellectually.

Although its warm nature might seem like it is only promised to the guiles and needs of a harsh winter, Tolu has a velvety sheen that evokes smooth bronzed skin luxuriating under the veil of an aromatized body oil, not unlike Patou's long lost Chaldée; the Oil is exactly the form of choice for the summer in my mind, while the Eau de Parfum and Parfum would be wonderfully warming in the colder months.
Tolu lasts excellently on the skin inducing you to catch whiffs of it rising up from a heated decolleté all day long, well into the night.

Eau de Parfum is £58.00 for 50ml, parfum is £112.00 for 50 ml. Also available in Hydrating Bath and Shower Creme, Essential Body Oil, Replenishing Body Lotion, Scented Candle and a luxurious Gift Box in various combinations of products.
Exclusively available at Ormonde Jayne UK boutique: 12 The Royal Arcade -28 Old Bond Street, London W1S 4SL or online at Ormonde Jayne.com


Notes:
Top: Juniper berry, orange blossom, clary sage
Heart: Orchid, Moroccan rose, muguet
Base: Tolu balsam*, tonka bean, golden frankincense, amber

*Tolu balsam is a resin from a Peruvian tree from the south of the country with a sweet vanillic touch

Painting Girl with Red Hair by Fabien Perez, courtesy of paintinghere.com. Pic of bottle courtesy of OrmondeJayne.com