Optical Scentsibilities: bottle design, part 2

Bottles get fairly often copied, er...*cough, cough*..."inspired" by other bottles it seems. After all we highlighted some on a previous post. Maybe the bottle designers/sculptors are just a handful (which they are, actually)and the rights for use are rather...liquid.

Witness these latest examples:



The scarce Japanese Y perfume has an elegant bottle that seems like a drop. Or a figurative swan's neck made of crystal, if you contort to a mental pretzel position for a bit.

Roughly evoking the similar bottle of bestseller Cashmere Mist by Donna Karan.
Jennifer Lopez is full of energy, producing not only twins and singing albums, but also fragrances to fill malls across America. Her latest is Deseo (desire in Spanish), which takes a novel approach of an irregular shape, bluish colour (not the usual choice for a passionate fragrance) and an offbeat cap.
Somehow I think we have seen this idea executed more competently in L by Lolita Lempicka. Another passion-potion in a blue-ish, irregularly shaped, vaguely heart-like bottle.

Balmain has Ambre Gris displayed everywhere in France. It just now made it to some online stores worldwide. Striking and hefty bottle, isn't it, with its big, sherical cap!


And guess who had made a similar bottle looooong ago? Coty for his seminar L'Origan.

Parfumerie Générale goes the way of niche: austere sturdy bottles, uniform design throughout the line, empasis on what's inside rather than frills, serious approach, emblematic labels.

Imagine one's surpise to find somethig similar enrobing the comparatively lowly Denim by Elidda Gibbs!

Then of course there is jewellers's brand Van Cleef & Arpels, who have issued many fragrances in jewel-like bottles. Féerie is their latest in an elaborate crystal flacon with silvery stems, shaped like a ripe fig.

If only Pierre Dinand hadn't already designed the lovely fig limited edition bottle for L'artisan Parfumeur's Premier Figuier...

Jessica Simpson tries hard with all the desperation of a has-been. So hard that she actually sanctions a quite pretty and expensive-looking bottle for her new perfume, Fancy (fancy that!)
Then again her target audience is 15-35 years old (nothing wrong with the upper end of the margin, plenty of wrong with the bottom end of it though: how could a modern 15-year-old get away in her entourage with anything elegant without atracting ridicule? To be answered in the hazy distant future).


Eerily reminiscent of the limited editions for the bell jars of the Serge Lutens fragrances for Le Palais Royal, like this one for Mandarine Mandarin.
Now cut it out, Jessica, please! This isn't funny!!

Pics via aedes, artcover, ausliebezumduft, ambregris, autour de serge, scentaddicts, luckyscent, parfumflacons.

Vetiver Racinettes by Ayala Moriel: fragrance review

It's always wise when exploring a certain material to come to the source. In the case of vetiver, the natural essences themselves. And what better way of discovering the exciting facets of unadulterated vetiver than going the natural way? Natural perfumers have long been maligned because they have been erroneously mixed up with aromatherapists whose higher priority is rather to provide healing than sensory pleasure. Their compositions have been called "invertebrae" and accused of having "the bone structure of a sea cucumber". But natural perfumers are not interested in effect before beauty, any less than traditional perfumers are, nor do not they target the fadish hoi polloi, unlike some of the latter. Instead they produce small batches that aim at the discerning consumer who seeks an almost alchemical path to olfactory revelation and the intimate knowledge of raw materials. "This is how pepper really smells like", you exclaim as you sniff tentatively; "here is a twist of ambrette seeds and what are they anyway?" you progess with entusiasm. "Hey, is that how natural ambergris really smells like? Wow!".

In this path of discovery and thanks to the wonders of the Internet I came across Ayala Moriel who has been producing her small artisanal line of natural perfumes for some years now.
Gigi has been her latest gardenia soliflore which I reviewed some months ago, while Sahleb reminded me of the sweet milky drink of the streets of Istanbul. On another vein, Film Noir has been my idea of a perfect deep and dirty patchouli ever since I first tried it. Which brings us to today's fragrance: Vetiver Racinettes.

Vetiver came prominently to the fore a few years ago in a roundabout way: Perfume houses were starting to significantly lower oakmoss levels to conform with European restrictions, often replacing it with vetiver and patchouli as a base in the new "modern chypres."
Ayala Moriel has been an inquisive soul which takes her craft seriously and in tandem with her own personal needs she began a Sir Richard Burton exploration into the uncharted territories of vetiver creation .

As she confessed for us this was part a personal journey :

"Last year, I had a deep need for [vetiver's] therapeutic qualities and cooling effect and I have become aware of vetiver's many virtues and its particular connection to the well being of the people and the planet in present day. Vetiver is a purifying, sacred root with a woody aroma, and in many ways I feel that it takes on a similar role that was once reserved to sacred woods such as sandal and oud. One thing lead to another, and after 4 different vetiver versions, I have finally arrived at a destination that I have never quite planned to find - my very own signature vetiver scent: Vetiver
Racinettes".

Vetiver Racinettes thus fleshes out the rooty aroma of vetiver into a summation and recapitualtion of all the aspects which caught Ayala's interest in her route to vetiver exploration. After going through a spare mod (Vetiver Blanc), one with the baked earth note of Attar Mitti (Wylde Vetiver), and another with coffee (Vetiver Noir), she arrived at the spicy amalgam which is Vetiver Racinettes.
Racinette comes from the French, code name for root beer and it is indeed the reminiscence of it which Ayala utilized: the earthy feel of "thousand rootlets in deep dirt with the sweetness of refreshing root beer".

Vetiver Racinettes combines both peppery and sweet spices, of which I perceive cardamom more prominently, allied to the musty, pungent aroma of the roots. The cardamom touch recalls a similar treatment in Déclaration for Cartier, in which the spice is evoking a refreshing drink with a tangy citrusy bite above the vetiver. Here the citrus tang comes from Kaffir Lime leaf, a succulent note which is especially perceptible in the heat of summer after the first few minutes on the skin as well as the fresher feel of Haitian vetiver which is the prominent note in Guerlain's classic Vétiver.
The opening of the fragrance is quite intense with the mustiness of vetiver roots in primo piano singing both overture and aria while a metal gong is echoing, while as it melds on the skin slowly, the lime leaf, cardamom and a sweet vibe like licorice are appearing like supporting actors from the wings rounding it out and providing comfort.
Vetiver Racinettes smells at once woody and orientalised: the cooling feel of water drunk from a clay pot, its muddy bitterness still perceptible, the secret fire of spice and the intimate touch of sweet and mushroomy-earthy notes which last very well.

Notes:
Top: Black Pepper, Fresh Ginger, Cardamom, Kaffir Lime Leaf
Heart: Haitian Vetiver, Nutmeg Asbolute, Coffee, Spikenard
Base: Ruh Khus*, Indonesian Vetiver, Vetiver Bourbon, Attar Mitti (baked earth), Tarragon Absolute, Cepes.

Vetiver Racinettes is a limited edition fragrance that will be available throughout Summer 2008. Advance orders are available through the website and will be shipped on a first-come first-serve basis.
The fragrance is available in 9ml parfum extrait(alcohol based)flacon ($110), Perfumed Pendant($125)with an option of refill, 10ml perfume-oil(jojoba based)in roll-on bottle($130) and 5ml perfume-oil roll-on bottle($65).

Ayala was gracious enough to offer 10 free samples for Perfume Shrine readers (normally these retail at 8$ each!): contact Ayala with codename "Perfume Shrine Vetiver Racinettes" to get your sample now!

Pic of Vetiver Racinettes, vetiver roots, nutmeg and cardamom pods by Ayala Moriel used with permission.

*Rhus Khus is produced in the north of India, distilled from wild-growing vetiver. Untypically blueish green in shade due to its being distilled in copper cauldrons, the traditional way. For more on vetiver varieties, read here.

Chanel Beige: new addition to Les Exclusifs?

It's uncanny how one comes across the most shocking and astounding news sometimes. Forcing us to interrupt what is a series of posts on something particular even! On hindsight, since I am about to talk about Sycomore by Chanel later on (as it is a vetiver-based scent after all), maybe it isn't that irrelevant as it seemed at first.
But let's revert to how I found out about it. There I was casually reading one of the blogs I visit often, Perfume Posse, and LizS posted this:
"I was jogging by Saks in NYC last night, and they have in the window all the les exclusifs by Chanel. There is a HUGE poster of one called BEIGE. its sitting next to the bottle of Sycomore. New Release?? I can’t find out any info online…has anyone else heard of this? I hadn’t been to Saks this weekend despite seeing the window displays, I guess I didn’t notice the name on the bottle".

Of course Beige by Chanel was one of the rare vintage fragrances that hark back to the days of Gabrielle Chanel herself and formed a holy triad: Rouge, Bleue, Beige. According to Octavian Coifan, fragrance and fashion historian:

"Chanel created in 1929 a very fresh spring collection with dresses in red/blue/beige in jersey (a sport style with stripes and geometric pattern) as depicted in a Vogue review from that year. In the same year Jean Patou launched Le Sien, the "unisex" perfume (chypre) that was inspired also by the sport spirit. Chanel and Patou promoted in those years a day fashion inspired by sports, with geometric patterns and young look. Maybe Chanel wanted to answer Patou's sport perfume (Le Sien = Her's) with her famous colours - red, blue and beige - used in jersey's sport dresses. But those perfumes are also an echo of the French Flag (bleu, blanc, rouge)".

The fragrance itself is described as echoing the composition of No.5 (much like the other two in the triptych do), yet the resulting scent being like a cross between Vol de Nuit and Arpege (which is formidable I bet!). The basic chord seems to be jasmine, orris and amber.

So what is happening? Is Chanel planning on re-introducing their old Beige (and maybe eventually more older compositions) in their Les Exclusifs lineup? Or are they changing the formula enough not to resemble the vintage, very rare juice, like they did with the chic Sycomore? (another defunct Chanel from the days of Mademoiselle). Are Bleu and Rouge next?
And why are they aiming these splurgingly luxurious fragrances at the American audiences first? May I remind you that the equally quitessential house of Guerlain went the same route with their exclusive editions of Cruel Gardénia and Spirituese Double Vanille...which is interesting in terms of marketing, to say the least.
The plot thickens; mark my words!

Pic of Beige by Chanel courtesy of Octavian Coifan.

Vetiver and Vetiver pour Elle by Guerlain: fragrance review

I guess I have to thank Elle McPherson: Australian 6-feet "the Body" supermodel of the 80s, whose signature fragrance has loyally been the masculine Vétiver by Guerlain. It makes sense: anything more traditionally feminine on that gorgeous specimen of Amazonesque womanhood and she'd burst!
Prompted by this unrealistic image, beknownst to me via religious leafing through British Vogue and French Elle editions, my teenager feet brought me before a Guerlain counter where I was spoilt for choice ~and in retrospect treated like a mature woman instead of a girl: Shalimar ("soft powder" the matronly but kindly sales assistant purred), L'Heure Bleue ("wistful flowers" she daydreamed), Mitsouko (I didn't need any coaxing on that one; I knew it well from my mother's dresser) and...off my hand went and grabbed the Vétiver tester. "That's for men, honey!" she gently admonished. And yet, why shouldn't I make it my own, like Elle had? The day was hot, school was out and I was determined to treat myself. Thus Vétiver and I became friends. For life.

Historically Vétiver was first created for the Mexico market, one of the biggest consumers of Guerlain's "Vetiver extrait". However Carven's strikingly fresh Vetiver (1957), already a huge success and the inspiration of the green packaging behind subsequent vetiver scents, prompted director Jean-Pierre Guerlain to modernize their own formula for larger distribution; especially since the house hadn't produced a true masculine since the days of their Eaux de Cologne, Jicky and Mouchoir de Monsieur. The commission was undertaken by his then 22-year-old nephew Jean-Paul. He focused on "the smell of the gardener" as a source of inspiration: outdoorsmen, their presence evoking the warmth of the earth with the freshness and vitality of nature, marrying tobacco to vetiver root.
If Givenchy's Vétyver is one of serene and self-assured patrician crepuscular composure, Guerlain's Vétiver is a bright day's morning optimism when anything seems achievable. Its vibrant, upbeat character with a citrusy edge helped made it a huge success, while Givenchy's languished, thus earning Guerlain yet another slot in the Pantheon of Greats.

Vétiver by Guerlain starts with a crisp citrusy accord that sustains itself for about 15 minutes, like ice crushed between jaws feels tingling the back of one's neck in the heat of August; or an hesperidic cologne with soft musks, fresh out from the fridge, sprayed on hot skin, creating goosepumps. Haitian vetiver is very complimentary to the lemony notes, rendering them ever so slightly soapy.
Technically classified in the Woods family by Michael Edwards, it soon proves why. The cascade of spicy, slightly bitter notes dominating is delightfully refreshing and addictive. As it puffs on a Romeo y Julietta, a bittersweet tobacco note emerges,rounding out the edges and providing the assurance of one's beloved dad in the days when he was a dynamic and suave young man, taking you in his arms for a goodnight kiss. Or another of its famous fans: Andy Garcia in his heyday, Cuban tobacco trailing off.
Vétiver is a comparatively light scent, compared to mustier, earthier renditions of the material, which however lasts well.

Despite Guerlain's claim to keeping the composition of Vétiver unaltered, my vintage from the 80s, in its squat square bottle similar to Habit Rouge, but with a deep forest green label (the label became more bottle-green in the 90s), points to a smokier and sweeter ambience with a rounder feel to it. It's thus more comforting and more insinuating, like what one imagines Lady Chatterley's Lover to be smelling of after working on a warm day, although the current version is also excellent, if rather drier and crisper.
Vetiver relaunched in 2000 with a new packaging and half clear/half frosted glass bottle (designed by Robert Granai) and more acid green juice rather than straw-coloured, which might indicate a slight tampering with the formula.
In 2000 a special edition was incorporated in Les Parisiennes lineup in a 500ml bee bottle for Boutique Guerlain, 68 Champs Elysées, Paris.

Notes for Vétiver Guerlain: orange, bergamot, lemon, neroli, pepper, nutmeg, coriander, capsicum, vetiver, cedar, tobacco, tonka bean.

Modern masculine spins (flankers) on the classic masterpiece proved somewhat lacking: Vétiver Eau Glacée ("Frozen Vetiver") has minty and nutty tonalities, but it lacks the richness of the original. Vétiver Extrême starts with a lathery sportly cleanless, adding a tarragon accent veering into the too herbaceous, while the development is quite oily and sweet due to a licorice background (a trait of many vetiver extracts) or according to Luca Turin "cheap English Leather drydown that would be ideal in furniture polish". (ouch!)

Vétiver Pour Elle by Jean Paul Guerlain, on the other hand, a feminine twist on the classic formula, was issued initially as a limited travel exclusive for people taking flight off Paris airports or railway stations, as a memento of their stay in the City of Light. It was encased in a bottle reminiscent of Mitsouko and L'Heure Bleue (with the cap an upside down heart).
The story behind Vétiver pour Elle is that women had been usurping the masculine fragrance from their men and were always nagging Jean Paul to create something comparable for them, so he finally did! Whether that is the truth or whether Guerlain saw the untapped pool of exclusivity afficionados who have become more vocal and more visible due to the Internet is food for thought. In any case the fragrance is lovely and perhaps this proves their marketing radar is razor sharp: the furore around it resulted in its joining Les Parisiennes at the Guerlain Boutique, in the particular bee bottles of the line, as a permanent fixture.

Drawing upon the quiet tenderness of his superb Chant d'Arômes, Jean Paul Guerlain added a soft garland of fresh, green jasmine along with subtler, clean notes of lily of the valley and orange blossom and musks, to circumvent the tobacco backdrop of Vétiver for an added feminine touch, while the skeleton of bergamot, nutmeg and vetiver roots is kept intact in its classical, almost chyprish beauty. The result seems unisex like the enigmatic smile of a Mona Lisa: is it a woman model than we're seeing or the artist merely masqueraded by feminine wiles?

Notes for Vétiver pour Elle: bergamot, lily of the valley, honeysuckle, jasmine, nutmeg, orange blossom, vetiver, tonka bean

Vétiver pour Elle is currently available in the 125ml bee bottle of Les Parisiennes line and can be bought at the 68 Champs Elysées boutique Guerlain, Paris. Use this conctact for inquiries.

Pic of masculine Vetiver (pour lui) ad with the vintage bottle depicted and of the travel edition bottle of Vetiver pour Elle, courtesy of Parfum de Pub.
Pic of Elle McPherson via Cinema-stars.com. Pic of Andy Garcia from the film "The Untouchables", via Geocities.

Vetiver Series: 3.the Historical References ~Carven, Givenchy, Guerlain

Vetiver seriously entered the consciousness of the West at some point in the 19th century, along with its brotherly Indian counterpart patchouli (brought to England in 1850), as exotic plants that smell good and keep precious silk cloths free of insects (nevertheless, vetiver iteself is not immune to the occasional beetle and to termites, in arid regions). Their noli me tangere soft message to moths and other pests made them valuable and prized and their exotic ancenstry the topic of romantic daydreaming about the edges of the Empire on Which the Sun Never Sets.
More importantly, vetiver was purposefully collected and transplanted as a potential agricultural commodity. Like so many other species, vetiver probably formed part of the colonial economic plant exchanges and, somewhere, the records probably still exist. Though these plant exchanges began in earnest around 1500, and continued an ancient tradition, two "hard" dates stand out: 1809 and 1843. In 1809, the first chemical analysis of vetiver oil was done in France on extracts from roots imported from the Indian Ocean island of Réunion, where vetiver is not native. Second, since 1843 a vetiver perfume called Kus Kus has been produced continuously in New Orleans, Louisiana, which in 1803 was purchased from the perfume-loving French by the recently independent United States, where perfumery was then considered elitist and undemocratic. Vetiver occurs in all the old French colonies, and it most likely arrived in Louisiana when it too was French ... vetiver is still most-popular there among people of French descent. The important point is that by 1843, at the very latest, vetiver was in Louisiana at the extreme terminus of global trade routes, up a river as far from home as on earth vetiver could be.
Unlike sugarcane and citrus and other Asiatic plants, Spanish scholars of the Islamic Moors have found no evidence of vetiver arriving in Europe from the Moghul Empire or earlier via greater Arabia and North Africa (and thence to the New World following the Conquistadors and their multitude of plant introductions). In fact, the one place on earth in which vetiver seems historically scarce to non-existent is the fragrance-loving Middle East and North Africa. By one hundred years ago, vetiver seems to have been fairly uniformly distributed, although perhaps thinly, across the tropics, occurring in most if not all countries. It is possible that the ‘Sunshine’ genotype was then reselected in the World War II period as a "strategic material" for perfumes, which is why we now find it almost everywhere[1]

However the story of vetiver-focused fragrances coincides with the modernisation of fragrance wearing and the artificial segregation of feminine and masculine fragrances after WWI. With its fresh, earthy and sometimes woody aroma, vetiver soon became a signal of masculinity. Although the 20s and 30s were les années folles when any bender of societal mores was seen as adventurous, daring and to be tentatively embraced if one could (enter the androgynes), the more conservative times that followed WWII and the advent of the New Look prescribed clear-cut roles: women impecably turned out, talons painted and not a hair out of place, but with a roast ready in the oven and smiling, well-behaved kids in the nursery; men suave in their conservative suits and modest ties, men about business with attache at hand, clean-shaven and well-trimmed on the nape of their fedora-adorned head, a Technicolor vision in 3D.
Those were the 50s!
It might very well be that those women were secretly lamenting their crushed dreams and the hole of fulfilment in their personal lives like a vignette from Pleasantville or a Douglas Sherk melodrama; those men might just be travelling salesmen or con-men, even Cold War agents, clad in their anonymous dark suits, in the pursuit of atomic-bomb data gathering. Never mind; their perceived image will be forever be impecably put-together, down to the last detail, combed and buffed and shining like a new Cadillac in pastel colours smirking at you from across the street.

It was at that precise moment in time when classic vetiver fragrances encapsulated all the desirable qualities of this solid, dependable manhood, minus any really sinister touch but not without their own shade of doubt like one encounters upon viewing something that is suspect of being too good to be true. In a way vetiver-focusing fragrances were a natural progression from classic Eaux de Cologne in that they smelled good, made you feel fresh and were a seal of respectability in most millieux, but not without their own little twist deep down.
Vétiver by Creed was a pre-cursor, coming out in 1948. The three most classical and stellar however had always been the ones under the names of Carven, Givenchy and Guerlain.

One of the first soliradix vetivers was Vetiver by Carven, issued in 1957. Its fresh character bode well with a generation that was optimistic after the vagaries of war, especially in view of the scandalous technological advances and eager to present a fresh outlook on life.
I didn't have the good fortune to smell the original, as it was so far back before my time and although I had a grandmother who wore Carven's Ma Griffe faithfully, my grandfather was loyal to fine fragrances by other houses (notably Givenchy's Gentleman in later years). Therefore it would be difficult to imagine the depth and clarity of the vintage composition going by only the rather pale and limp-wristed version that is circulating now -although pleasantly fresh, it doesn't ring a bell as one of the three greatest classic Vetivers.

Notes for Carven Vetiver:
lemon, lavender, jasmine, vetiver.

Hubert de Givenchy issued his own take on the refreshing earthiness of vetiver two years later, in 1959. A masculine so chic and so straight-foward to the nature of the material itself that it became his own personal favourite and a beacon in the world of perfumery. Luca Turin in his NZZ Folio column ("Grass Roots") had stated a propos:

"Experts agree that the best classical vetiver of all time was Givenchy’s, which never sold well but was kept in production because Hubert de Givenchy wore it. When he passed away, so did the fragrance. Next best was a tie between the strikingly fresh and carefree Carven and the excellent, darker and richer Guerlain. Then came the Lanvin, a bit more cologne-like, and all sorts of no-holds-barred vetivers from niche firms".

He swiftly corrected the mistake in his Perfumes, the Guide, though, while talking about the re-issued fragrance: Hubert de Givenchy hasn't passed away just yet, thank heavens, but he retired from his house in 1995, sadly marking Vétyver's discontinuation. According to Hubert's nephew, although the fragrance was greatly respected among connoiseurs, it was a slow seller and was only kept in production for the sake of his uncle.
Luckily, after 12 years, the re-issue of Givenchy Vétyver in the line Les Parfums Mythiques (relaunched classics in new uniform packaging) is reputedly excellent as it always has been; cause for rejoice among the many perfumephiles who cherish the precious tradition as well as the seal of approval communicated by Turin!
The classic, an understated, well-blended, both classic and classy fragrance starts with citrusy, cooling vetiver quickly segueing to a dusty, smokey rooty aroma, due to its use of three different varieties of the roots. It remains soft, discreet, understatedly luxurious and patrician always, mirroring its patron Hubert de Givenchy ~a man who when interviewed by Harper's Bazzar upon his retirement had exorcised vulgar modern practices with this sad -and very truthful- eulogy:

"Sure, it is head-turning,but one could not step out of the house like that. It's a false image. Balenciaga always told me, 'Hubert, the most important thing when dressing your clients is to be honest.' He was a man with total integrity. We made dresses that women could wear. Today we make dresses to sell handbags, shoes, accessories. When you go down the Rue du Faubourg Saint-Honoré, you see only store windows filled with sacks and shoes. What does that mean? I'll tell you what it means: There is no fashion."

.
Notes for Givenchy Vétyver:
Top: bergamot and vetiver
Middle: coriander and vetiver
Base: sandalwood and vetiver.
Givenchy Vétyver retails at $65 for a 100ml/2.4oz bottle.
You can read a detailed review of the re-issue on Pere de Pierre.

And then, just when the 50s were slowly exhaling and with Jean Paul Guerlain freshly on the reins of the historical house, Guerlain came up with their own version, Vétiver, which was to become the classic of the classics. It sold so forcibly well, that women everywhere were usurping it from the husbands' and boyfriends' dressers to don it on their own soft curves. But more on that shortly on a seperate review!

Pic of Russell Crowe in film Rough Magic. Pic of Givenchy Vetyver bottle and box courtesy of Fragrantica.
[1]source: the Vetiver Network