Vetiver Series 4: the Secret of Gender in Vetiver

Have you ever watched a conjurer put a volunteer from the audience into one of those contraptions that open and close via those ornamented Chinese doors? He enters as a man, next thing you see is the magician's attractive female assistant emerge from the same little door all decked out in sequins and feathers. What happened to the man? Who knows. He doesn't disappear, unless we're into a Woody Allen film, but the change is dramatic and surprising. The same thing that sometimes happens upon setting eyes on a beautiful woman who has a little too wide shoulders, a little too large hands and you catch yourself trying to discern if she's hiding an Adam's apple under that dainty diamanté necklace and the shimmer of a thousand crushed pearls in her Nars eyeshadow.

Olfactory perceptions can be like that. First you think you have a good, solid, traditional feminine or masculine "note". Then the artist takes the material and spins it on its axon rendering it the bearer of news in the drama that unfolds in the stage of your olfactory adventure.
Vetiver is just one of those materials. Although traditionally thought of as masculine, as far back as in the 1910s-1920s, vetiver, without its masculine accoutrement, was starring in very feminine fragrances playing the liberated card of the garçonne, just hinting at a subversive undercurrent. Some of the unabashedly feminine fragrances featuring vetiver do so with the gusto of a painter who puts a touch of black on the milkiest white to create the enigmatic imperceptibly greyish pallor of a romantic heroine.

Besides, vetiver along with orris contributed to the famous powdery base Vetyrisia, featured in many classic products that evoke seemingly long-forgotten times.

Ernest Beaux with Chanel No.5 (1921) put the defining touch in the aldehydic, abstract creations that defined the new femininity: foregoing the usual flower bouquets, he infused the composition with a woody note of vetiver that creates disturbing arpegios under the super feminine ylang-ylang and the catty musk of a fur coat. The result très célèbre remains a perfect evocation of sohpsticated feminity that changed the world of fragrance for ever: "a woman should not smell like a flower patch", Coco Chanel quipped.
Jeanne Lanvin went one better in this particular field by having André Fraysse make vetiver an even more pronounced note in Arpège, a dark green glove that engulfs the flowers in forest tranquility. Crepe de Chine by Millot and Djedi by Guerlain were other fragrances featuring its chic aura.
Perfumer Maurice Blanchet worked with Charles Frederick Worth's son, Jean Charles, to create Parfums Worth in an era when couturiers came up with fragrances inspired by the paradigms of Chanel and Jean Patou. In 1932 he introduced Je Reviens to the world ~a fragrance masterminded around narcissus and anchored by the serene touch of vetiver. Completely changed now to the point of non recognition, Je Reviens serves as a landmark of Art-Deco style and the romantic inclinations of the times.
Indiscret by Lucien Lelong was created in 1935 (revamped and completely changed in 1997 by Mane) in a Surrealist-inspired bottle reminiscent of half-drawn curtains. Reportedly one of the staples of Marlen Dietrich, it evoked the ambience of a cabaret with its daring use of decadent flowers of corruption and woody notes in which vetiver played a significant part.
Its polar opposite could be Blue Grass by Elizabeth Arden came in 1936 by perfumer George Fuchs, from old Grasseois house of Fragonard. Unapologetically sporty and carefree, not cosmopolitan in the least, it was named for the Kentucky "blue grass" in honour of Arden's horses. "You'll never sell it with that name, it will remind people of manure" one of Arden's managers complained, but history proved him wrong as it became one of Arden's bestsellers.
In the 30s unisex was quite popular in a light hesperidic and vetiver-woody composition bearing the name Aqua di Parma. Their classic Colonia was reportedly favoured by both men and women, some of them famous like Ava Gardner and Cary Grant, as a valued pick-me-up.



The classic emancipated chypres around and after WWII found their predictable ally in the aloof stance of vetiver. The dangerous Bandit (1944) for Piguet, created by Germaine Cellier for dykes, managed to combine the tweed feel of vetiver with bitter green quinolines evoking leather in what was an outlaw's uniform. Ma Griffe used to be assertively powdery and frosty with the spicy touch of styrax and vetiver that providing the cooling background of a confident and world-savvy woman singing an emerald song atop a Parisian terrace. And of course the ultra-green, ultra classy dry Y by Yves Saint Laurent (1964) which should be sampled if only to see what a true classy chypre smells like.

But its most surprising use came into the aldehydics of the 60s and 70s. The Yves Saint Laurent iconic creation, Rive Gauche (1971), utilised vetiver to provide the cool background on which frosty, sparkling flowers rest silently, as did Calandre by Paco Rabanne, two years its senior and arguably the prototype of a metallic rose smothered in frost. The impeccable taste of Calèche was furthered through not only aldehydes, but also the quietly woody tonality of vetiver, which is the dominand impression of its base notes.
Clinique's Aromatics Elixir (1969), by nose Bernand Chant, took that gigantic rose and buried it under a whole forest floor of patchouli and vetiver to render it the most memorable sillage one can encounter on a stranger. It's interesting to note that Chant worked on both Cabochard with the drydown of which there is kinship as well as the classic masculine Aramis by Lauder.

Chanel No.19 is perhaps the best example of vetiver shinning through a starched cotton shirt that is meant to clad a woman of pedigree. Unassuming, prim, beautiful in its orris richness, it looks upon you with the severe eye of a lady to the manor born who never dons pearls but opts for cool silver bangles.
The echoes can be heard both in Chanel's other cool composition, Cristalle (Eau de toilette 1974 by Henri Robert; Eau de parfum 1992 by Jacques Polge), as well as the enigmatic green fruity chypre of Diorella by Edmond Roudnitska.
White Linen (1978) by Estee Lauder and Ivoire (1979) by Balmain both play upon the clean, soapy facets of feminine traditionality with a distinct touch of serene vetiver that is treated in a cool and soothing, powdery way.

The 80s saw a return to chypres, this time more professional and cerebral, less animalic than before, fit for the office heroines of a brave shoulder-pad era. A plethora of them use vetiver: the emphatically powdery with a pittosporum heart Knowing (1988) by Lauder and the exhuberant and projective rose of Diva by Ungaro. Interspersed there came the naughty, assertive dissenters who had other plans after the boardroom meetings and always kept a pair of spare lingerie in their crocodile clutches: Paloma Picasso and Parfum de Peau by Montana.

Even in the loud florals of the 80s, such as Giorgio Beverly Hills (1981), vetiver is the one saving grace that might have kept the strident, overachievers from becoming the gripe of death. A case in point was evident in the older version of Beautiful (1986) by Estee Lauder that kept the extravagance of intense white florals under check by copious amounts of the earthy grass root. Possibly it was a knowing nod to the successful turn that Sophia Grojsman had interjected in the brand's White Linen almost a decade before and in the fruity "grapefruit impression" of Calyx for Prescriptives in 1986.
The trick of containing white florals with vetiver was repeated two years later in Carolina Herrera's eponymous fragrance for women: a scent full of the indolic smell of jasmine and tuberose that would risk being caricatures of womanhood had it not been the discreet underscore of vetiver.
The experienced Jean Kérleo was aware of this true marriage by utilizing it in both his shadowy chyprish floral 1000 (1972) and the sunny, hearty smile of Sublime (1992), both for Jean Patou.
Could it then be that ommiting vetiver is the fault of loud white floral fragrances that bombard our nostrils with all the force of a WWII London air-raid? We can but assume.


As years and trends progressed vetiver along with patchouli became de rigeur: restrictions on the amount of oakmoss used in fragrances necessitated a turn into its earthy and re-assuring timbre.
Some surprising examples show just how magical its effect can be in the most unexpected ways. Le Baiser du Dragon by Cartier is full of vetiver in the base beneath the amaretto notes of its heart. Agent Provocateur uses it to render that troubling, earthy chyprish nuance to rose and saffron. Even Lush, a brand famous for their "homemade" looking skincare came up with a solid perfume inspired by the soothing attributes of vetiver, combined with the ultra-feminine jasmine for good measure: Silky Underwear, first released as a powder.

And then again the opening of the "niche" sector saw the tremendous potential for fragrances aimed at both sexes which made use of the note in unique ways, away from the establishment classic, rendering it very popular with women of unconventional tastes: from the fresh, young and chic hermaphrodite of Chanel Sycomore and the nutty, bittersweet delicacy of Vetiver Tonka in the Hermessences to the licorice-laced Vétiver Oriental by Lutens and the sexy darkness of an unusual brunette beauty of Vetiver Bourbon by Miller Harris.

But we will return with seperate reviews later on.
To be continued!

Autoportrait by Tamara de Lempicka (1925) via art.com. Bandit ad originally uploaded at MUA. Knowing ad via Parfum de Pub. Pic of Elena Bonham Carter smoking from "Fight Club"

Kapsule by Karl Lagerfeld: new fragrances ~Light, Woody, Floriental

Karl Lagerfeld is best known for a few things: his trademark ponytail, his eye-glaring weight-loss, his prolific churning-out of numerous collections for several brands (Chanel, his own, Fendi etc.) and his perfume fetish. The latter got manifested not only through his own personal choices (one of which is the immortelle-rich Eau Noire by Dior's private line, at the same time when he donned the Heidi Sleiman suits on his newly thinspirational figure), but through the fragrances under his own name. From the old Chloe (which got reformulated recently into a completely new fragrance)and the spicy KL to the discontinued Sun, Moon, Stars and Photo for men.

Now Karl is launching a new unisex line, called Kapsule, (with K standing for Karl?) in collaboration with Coty. The press release is talking about aiming to en-Kapsule-ate the French market, whatever that might mean. The aim of Lagerfeld is making a quality perfume that will be affordable.
Somehow, Coty as the investor can be a blessing and a curse: It might signify a low markup that will aim at wide distribution, great team and PR and prove very successful commercially (example: Lovely by Sarah Jessica Parker) or it could equal a celebritoid vibe on the mind of perfume buying audiences that is sub-par in quality (example: all the usual suspects, I'm afraid). At any case, the Coty team are not novices and they know what they're doing.
For Karl Lagerfeld the project has acquired a -shall I say it?- rather "niche" touch: from the sparse bottles to the unisex proclivities. The names which evoke fragrance families are gently evocative of the newest trio of Guerlain Carnal Elixirs/Elixirs Charnels, although much less playful in their intent. Also the different perfumers behind the different versions within the same range is another niche trait.
Everyone is doing their own version of niche! Niche is the new mass-market, obviously.

The new line will nevertheless be issued in three versions, each aiming to capture its own audience:
Light will be fresh and summery, with notes of bitter orange, jasmine, nutmeg, clove and musk.(transparent blue bottle; nose: Mark Buxton)
Woody will be focused on cedar on an amber background with accents of plum and and moss. (dark blue bottle; nose: Olivier Cresp)
Floriental will be the most delicate with tea leaf aroma,ivy leaf and violet notes. (red bottle; nose: Emile Cooperman)
The names which evoke fragrance families are gently evocative of the newest trio of Guerlain Carnal Elixirs/Elixirs Charnels, although much less playful in their intent.
Bottles are simple and solid, designed by Lutz Herrmann: squarely built with a round label, each one tinted a different colour.

Expect to see the Kapsule collection by Karl Lagerfeld from October 2008, starting with Paris exclusively at Colette and Parfumeries Marionnaud and rolling out in Germany and US in November. Early sights of the range can also be caught by autumnal travellers who will see it in travel retail (duty-free shops). In the US Neiman Marcus will have them as an exclusive.
30ml/1oz or 75ml/2.5oz eau de toilette spray for €37/$59 and €68/$108 respectively.

Pics and info through wwd.and Vogue.fr

Guerlain: Bois Torride and Guerlain, Une Ville, Un Parfum: fragrant news

An avalanche of heads-up involving upcoming launches from major houses such as Chanel (Beige) and Hermès (Vanille Galante) were piling up and today Guerlain news join them.
We do cherish the opportunity to ponder on rumours in any case.
According to the very perceptive Kopah from Basenotes:

"It seems that the name of the next instalment in the L'Art et la Matière series may be Bois Torride. Guerlain filed an application for a European Community trademark for this name on June 4, 2008. (For the record, their applications for the names of the Elixirs Charnels/Carnal Elixirs were filed on April 28.) They have also recently filed applications for the script logo which appears above their shop at 68, Champs-Elysées, and for the phrase Guerlain, Une Ville, Un Parfum".

Since the same happened when we were speculating what the newest Serge Lutens would be (and it did prove to be Serge Noire and how lovely that one is!) , it would be safe to predict that in a few months' time, we could be graced with more news about the newest Guerlain launch: Bois Torride (torrid wood). Might it be too presumptuous to hypothesize that it would not be the torrid, fiery, fierce composition that its name would suggest? There seems to be some sort of betrayal between name and concept in the L'Art et la Matière line especially: Rose isn't very Barbare, Cuir Beluga is only marginally reminiscent of suede, Angelique is not nearly Noire, Iris Ganache is rather gourmand but not very iris-like and Cruel Gardénia is neither cruel, nor gardenia despite its big appeal (leaving only Bois d'Armenie in the line smelling faithfully like the French curiosity "Papier d'Armenie").
In fact it seems to me that this playful interaction between expectations on part of the customer and finished result is at the core of the line. It just can't be random! And if so it shows a wry sense of humour for which we smirk ourselves.

This could also shed light into the relation between Thierry Wasser and the latest masculine Guerlain Homme: official info wanted Wasser to be the house's head perfumer beginning June 2008. Since Guerlain Homme was issued last July and since Wasser was -predictably- amicably seen photographed with Jean Paul Guerlain, with whom he collaborated on the fragrance, it stands to reason that Wasser can't have been highly involved in its conceptualisation (of which Sylvaine Delacourte must be much more responsible being creative director) or execution. On the contrary it seems that he must have been intent on the projects that follow soon: the three Carnal Elixirs of course and the upcoming Bois Torride. It does seem like too much projects in so many months, nevertheless.
I am also reminding you that "torride" was previously linked to Givenchy (Eau Torride) with lukewarm results, so I am hoping that Guerlain will have cards up their sleeve. The gender of the fragrance might also be grounds for speculation, since although woody fragrances are traditionally masculine, they might put a spin and present it as a unisex in the manner of the other niche/exclusives circulating at the Boutique Guerlain. After all, most of us perfume lovers are uninihibited enough to wear what we like regardless of artificial cliches pertaining to gender.
We will find out around December 2009, if my calculations prove to be accurate.

On the other hand, the name Guerlain, Une Ville, Un Parfum sounds like a commemorative, special edition that should mark an anniversary or iconic landmark of the historical house's path to glory. I also see the bling factor of serious Baccarat packaging engraved with special touches that will ante up the price to stratosperical heights: A prospect that sheds a frisson of excitement through a collector's bloodstream and a trembling rattle into the wallet of many a Guerlain fan.
Alternatively it could just be an evocation of Paris in the way that Comme des Garcons has been inspired by characteristic places for their Incense Series. This time Paris being the place of inspiration, it can't fail but to bring to mind the cornucopia of scents we have come to expect from such a place and the grand tradition of French perfumery which Guerlain indeed evokes. This has the potential to be either heavenly or a complete and utter letdown given the tremendous magnitude of its mythos, so I am hoping that Thierry Wasser and Sylvaine Delacourt will be extra-attentive in how they go about it.

In any case, Guerlain has been harnessing the market in many inventive and marketing-perceptive ways lately and I am curious and excited to see what they will accomplish with these. We will report back with more as actual data unfolds in the following months.

Le Baiser du Hotel de Ville, 1950 Paris by Robert Doisneau courtesy of Amazon. Pic of Guerlain boutique, Paris, via the Perfume Bee.

New Hermessence Vanille Galante: fragrance news & musings

Hot on the heels of the news on a new Chanel in Les Exclusifs line, named Beige and mysteriously kept under wraps at Saks which however will carry it, as reported on Perfume Shrine first, here come the news on a new Hermessence.

AlbertCan had the scoop just yesterday:

"Hermès is in the midst of launching another Hermessence fragrance. Vanille Galante will be available at Hermès boutiques in around January 2009. The scent shall be issued in the usual Hermessence editions: the prices will be the same as the others as well".

Perfume Shrine got excited and decided to flesh this out, so here we are.
In-house perfumer Jean Claude Ellena, responsible for the house's latest, the sleeper classic Kelly Calèche and the controversial Un Jardin après la Mousson, is now focusing on vanilla.
Generally vanilla is one of the most popular themes in perfumery, due to its almost universal appeal. It harks back to the glorious days of Jicky (1889) and if the latter is any indication it's not an easy feat to accomplish. Even legendary Chanel perfumer Ernest Beaux complained that "when he was trying for vanilla he got crème anglaise, while Guerlain came up with Jicky!" The secret to that, apart from coumarin, was that the then newly discovered chemical path to synthetic vanillin by JC.W Tieman left traces of phenol, which smelled tarry-smokey. Today the effect in Jicky is reproduced via adding a little rectified birch tar. Still, this story proves that a good vanilla needs to be a little molested in order to give out its best.

But in the new Hermès Vanille Galante, the sweet material is embedded in a composition that attaches the moniker of "galante" to it. The French adjective galant (or galante for feminine nouns) has an intriguing background: in the romans de cour/courtly literature, that is the medieval novels of nobility (example Le Roman de la Rose from 1420-30), "galant" signifies the quality of courteous, gentlemanly and often amorous. The phrase "en galante companie" thus signified the company of a representative of the opposite sex.
Ellena being an intellectual man, might we expect in Vanille Galante a vanilla that is accompanied by a note which is its opposite, in order to highlight the true character all the more pronouncedly? Would it mean that vanilla essence, in itself a multi-complex natural material, should get a treatment like lavender had in Brin de Reglisse, the previous Hermessence from 2007? In that one, Ellena focused on the higher octaves of lavender absolute, which veer into caramel and licorice tonalities. Or the vetiver treatment he reserved for Un Jardin sur le Nil and Terre d'Hermes, in which he had molecules subtracted from the essence in order to arrive at a sparser, clearer, almost mineral vetiver message?
On the other hand, in musical terms, galant refers to the European style of classical simplicity after the complexity of the late Baroque era in the third quarter of the 18th century with pre-eminent representatives the rhythmical composers François Couperin, Jean-Philippe Rameau, Georg Philipp Telemann and Antonio Vivaldi . Their cyclical forma ties in with the theme of la Reverdie (return) in literary roman: that of eternal return of spring, a theme of pagan connotations .
The common trait would be the lyrical approach of solidly thematic subjects, which could sneak into the treatment of vanilla in Vanille Galante, or what I will from now on affectionaly call "péripéties de vanilla".

Vanilla is exactly the cliché note that begs for Jean Claude Ellena's modus operandi: chastiting it by food deprivation would be beneficial pedagogically, I feel. Vanillin (a natural developping aldehyde in vanilla pods and the most widely produced aromatic in the world) has its place in the arsenal of Ellena's carousel, as does ethyl maltol (the cotton-candy aromachemical first used in L'artisan's Vanilia, while maltol is also present in licorice, evident in Brin de Reglisse as discussed above). Nevertheless he has professed in an earlier interview that he is bored by "easy" notes such as vanillin and heliotropin. Yet he has produced his share of gourmand exempla, such as Bois Farine (2003), Elixir des Merveilles (2006) and Sublime Vanille (2001) for Lily Prune!
Vanilline however can be produced via gaïacol, eugenol or even lignine from cardboard manufacture. It's used in order to produce the scents of vanilla (of course), chocolate and banana. I am wondering whether those references might give Ellena some ideas on how to extend this note. Banana-peel is one of the nuances that some white florals, notably jasmine sambac and ylang-ylang, emit. However white florals have long been allied to vanilla and it strikes me as an unimaginative and too "talkative" coupling for an Ellena creation. Perhaps he will surprise us with a zen approach.

Additionally, Hermès wants to keep up with the competition in the niche stakes with other mega-houses: in this regard, Guerlain and its dark, rich Spiritueuse Double Vanille ~it proved to be such a good seller, that it was elevated from the status of limited, ephemeral edition into the permanent collection at Boutiques Guerlain and expanded to select doors(or was that the reverse marketing masterplan all along?, this scepticist is wondering).
Hermès can't break up the exclusivity factor of the Hermessences if Vanille Galante proves to be a bestseller without ruining the whole concept and shooting itself at the foot. What they could do however is keep the skeleton of the composition as the basis of their following feminine -most probably- fragrance. (two pieces of speculation at once, don't you love it here?)

The above constitute hypotheses on my part. We will update when more information becomes available from our sources. One thing seems for sure: We will be able to exclaim "Mais, c'est un Ellena!" (but it's an Ellena creation).

EDIT TO ADD: Six from Ambre Gris brought to my attention that it might be a simple allusion to Marie Galante, the island of the Caribbean located in the Guadeloupean archipelago. Constitutionally part of France, as Guadeloupe is an overseas région and département, MG is famous for its sugar cane but also cultures of tobacco, indigo, coffee and cotton.

Hermessences are available exclusively at select Hermès boutiques around the world. The bottles come at 100ml priced at 150 euros and there is also the option of a travel set of 4 aromisers of 15ml each (0.5oz) in either the same scent or 4 different ones in pre-arranged sets.

Read my full-on review of Vanille Galante following this link!

"Yvain secourant la damoiselle" from the Lancelot du Lac by Chretien de Trois manuscript. Vanilla pod and extract pic by Miri Rotkovitz(herbesspices.about.com)