Lancome Magnifique: fragrance review and musings

C'est magnifique, mais ce n'est pas la guerre. (It is magnificent, but it isn't war).
~Pierre Bosquet

Lancôme presented their latest fragrance Magnifique to the press featuring their new ambassador, actress Anne Hathaway, at the Grand Palais in Paris. Talented and pretty stars are nothing new in the Lancôme galaxy and their previous choice of Kate Winslet as new face of Trésor had me enraptured. Hathaway (who had professed a predeliction for Chanel's Chance) is equally lovely in a Snow White suit instead.
Magnifique set out to olfactively interpret the colour red, from the bottle, to the colour scheme of Hathaway's dress, to the admitedly cheddar-heavy US print-ad. Hence to avoid the latter factor, I chose a picture from the upcoming Peter-Lindberg-directed commercial, in which Hathaway poses as a cross between a Nikolaos Gyzis and Edward Hopper model.

Technically, Magnifique is a spicy woody floral, composed by Firmenich perfumers Olivier Cresp and Jacques Cavallier (a collaborating duo on many popular fragrances).
The inspiration, according to Woman's Wear Daily was Nargamotha/cypriol (Cyperus scariosus). Nagarmotha is a plant of the Cyperaceae family, also called Nagar Mustaka, which grows wild in the Madhya Pradesh region of India. Highly-prized for its roots, it is often used in compounding perfumes (especially since it acts as a fixative and is quite economical), in the manufacturing of soaps and incense sticks, as an insect repellent and for medicinal purposes. Associated with milkweed, Indian nard, jatamansi and fekhand, it appears in the spells of Vashikarana: It's said that a man applying it to his forehead is assured of a long series of successful love affairs!
Steam distillation of the tubers of cypriol yields 0.075-0.080% of an essential oil, the principal content of which is cyperine. The smell of nagarmotha is woody, earthy and quite lingering; it mostly conjures a hybrid between cedar, vetiver and patchouli, with fleeting touches of cinnamon and frankincense giving a churchy feel.
Reportedly, Cresp and Cavallier came upon it while in India and liked it so much that they opted to include its essential oil in their Magnifique fragrance. Somehow this is my first stumble: really? Such acclaimed and experienced perfumers were unaware of this old ingredient and just now discovered it?

What is naughty is that there is a perfume product thus named, produced by Innospec:

"A group of fragrance industry experts has given an enthusiastic review to three of Innospec's products- Cypriol, Vetimoss, and Verdirosa. The occasion was the British Society of Perfumery symposium, held last month [July] at Towcester. Lester Bowman, head of Innospec Active Chemicals for Europe, the Middle East and Africa gave a talk to the group, and Peter Whipps, a freelance perfume expert presented the three fragrances. Cypriol, which has a spicy floral fragrance, was presented in a linden blossom room spray and peach base, where it confers the rich, natural aroma of real flowers. As well as offering good odour of its own, Cypriol has a substantial floralising effect on any fragrance".

(Source Innospec)

Cypriol has been rather popular lately: a component of the latest Musc Nomade by Annick Goutal as well as Dzongha by L'artisan (where it is noted as a Papyrus note, Cyperus Papyrus, a member of the same family), Rose Kashmirie by Parfums de Rosine, the newest By Killian Prelude to Love, and Tom Ford for Men ~latter claimed to be the first to use cypriol: "that slightly dirty, sensual, sexy smell...It's not the same as natural musk used to be, but it has a bit of something that some people would think slightly dirty...I think it's warm and sensual." That claim is of course an euphemism, to put it politely: they probably publicized the fact first, since cypriol use goes as far back as Xeryus, a floral woody semi-oriental masculine by Givenchy, developped by Firmenich, in 1986! And if I am not too mistaken in Eau d'Issey pour Homme too in 1994. They're seriously putting us on, it seems!

To revert to Magnifique and how it smells, Lancôme didn't veer off far on their use of their emblematic rose, a note used in most of their fragrances under one guise or another (with the exception of mighty crispy O de Lancome): many perfume lovers report a profound love for Mille et une Roses, while the peachy-rosy Trésor has its own ardent fans.
There is indeed a round rose nuance in Magnifique that veers into fruity-jammy; still, the fragrance is not considerably floral, less so rosy in the flowers-on-the-stem kind. Rather Magnifique starts as a lightly effervescent, spiked-soda sort of fragrance,with a light peppery bite and sweet fruity tonalities defying the listed cumin, as the fragrance does not present any sweaty side at all. Nor is it especially woody, which is a suprise after all the insistence on that aspect, although the nagarmotha essence does make a solid appearence; the woods are pale, pleasantly powdered but ultimately vacant-eyed and unchallenging, ready to smile and strike their best side for the camera (and yes, they do know which is their best one!). If you have watched "Diary of a Princess" with the lovely Hathaway, they're the "after" part, even though the "before" wasn't that wild either...

"The challenge was to work on wood", Cresp claimed nevertheless. Why challenge? Due to the slim number of woody juices aimed at women, since woody notes are traditionally regarded as masculine. There is of course a handful which are excellent and not masculine-smelling at all: the iconic Bois des Iles by Chanel, intent on sandalwood; the notorious Feminité du Bois by Shiseido or Dolce Vita by Dior, both focused on cedar. Then again there are fragrances that pose an androgynous spin such as the chic Sycomore, the latest in Chanel's unisex Les Exclusifs line, fleshing out vetiver.
A similar risk was taken by Lauder's newest feminine, Sensuous, a very similar to Magnifique ~albeit milkier and heavier~ composition which tries to change the demographic to a lower age group than the typical Lauder clientele according to Chandler Burr.
Therefore the challenge seems to be on the business side more than on the olfactory one!

There appear to be segments of other ideas in Magnifique: the sweet patchouli vibe of Attraction, Lancome's own less successful previous release from 2003 (which might illustrate the fact that discarded mods never trully get discarded ~and please consider the discontinued lactonic woody Feu d'Issey by Cavallier there too, will you?), or the fruity woodiness of Gucci by Gucci; maybe even the jammy earthiness of Rabanne's Black XS, as well as Dior's Midnight Poison or Elle by Yves Saint Laurent (latter two notably by the same noses).
Which brings me to an interesting question: what segregates some of the above as "modern chypres" in taxonomy, while Magnifique is a "woody"? The edges blurr in my mind and it seems to me that "woody" has now become just fancy jargon to denote edginess, a sort of fashionista It-term; I predict we will be hearing it often from now on, mark my words.
Furthermore, woody fragrances often cross borders in niche lines, being shared by both sexes, which brings me to my next point: The derivative aspect of mainstream brands trying to replicate niche trends is a manifestation of both the market's oversaturation with offerings that focus on tired vogues (the avalanche of fruity florals and trite gourmand vanillas for women, the conventional citrus woodies and screechy marines for men) as well as the desire to tap into the pool of perfume lovers who scout the micro-niche lines for something different, but cannot always have it readily accessible due to exclusivity.

Magnifique is commendable for turning its back on tired concepts. It can thus be viewed as a step in a good direction, but also as the height of cynicism in fragrance business in view of the above. I will give them the benefit of the doubt for now and hope that more companies in the mainstream sector try to diversify.

Official Notes: mandarin, saffron essence, cumin, cinnamon, Bulgarian Rose essence, absolute of Rose Mai de Grasse, jasmine, Australian Sandalwood essence, Indian nagarmotha, vetiver.

Magnifique comes in 50ml/1.7oz and 75ml/2.4oz of Eau de Parfum concentration (with accompanying Bath Cream and Body Lotion in 200ml containers) and has just launched in the US (initially as an exclusive to Bloomingdale's). It will be available around the world in September through major department stores.

For those able to read French, please visit my good friend S. on Ambre Gris for another view.

Pic of Anne Hathaway courtesy of I'm not Obsessed.Bottle pic courtesy of Fragrantica.

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!