"Do you come from Heaven or rise from the abyss, Beauty? Your gaze, divine and infernal, Pours out confusedly benevolence and crime, And one may for that, compare you to wine ... From God or Satan, who cares? Angel or Siren, Who cares, if you make— fay with the velvet eyes,
Rhythm, perfume, glimmer; my one and only queen! The world less hideous, the minutes less leaden?" ~Hymn to Beauty, Charles Baudelaire
In 1930, Coco Chanel had a dream: she envisioned the perfect, most beautiful woody perfume that was baroque in feeling, yet bore no frills. The result, Sycomore, a 'woody scent with balsamic notes' composed by her Russian perfumer Ernest Beaux, was not appreciated in its time and soon disappeared. Just shy of 80 years in the making, Jacques Polge and Christopher Sheldrake, resident noses at Chanel, recomposed the woody vision of mademoiselle Coco and the finished fragrance forms part of Les Exclusifs ~Chanel's prestige line. The two however do not bear any similarity: The vintage Sycomore had "a distinct tobacco-violet note and all the other elements (few) built to enhance this idea" according to Octavian Coifan while in comparison the new version is very much centered around true vetiver; and a smokey one at that. In many ways it is a departure from the other iris-ladden Les Exclusifs which affirm their Chanel pedigree by use of costly raw materials evoking segments of previous successes of the brand. Sycomore does not.
Sycomore instead emphasizes its aristocratic dryness of humble origin with a tangy grapefruit opening and subtly cooling, clean muguet notes that complement the Haitian vetiver variety, also used in Guerlain Vétiver, so well. Almost simultaneously it allows soft impressions of a warm incense cloud slowly setting upon evergreen needles and rooty dirt (a la Route de Vétiver by Maître Parfumeur et Gantier) to uplift you into a wistful and introspective contemplation of life and mortality. And if you lower your head and pay attention to its murmur, a resinous, only marginally sweet touch of the licorice note that naturally arises in several distillations of the material itself, slightly reminiscent of Dior's Eau Noire drydown, vibrates at a low frequency, along with woodfire smoke.
Officially marketed as feminine for women who do not like flowery compositions, yet cunningly poised between the two sexes, it has an hermaphrodite side that whispers of something mysteriously chic, chastetly beautiful and utterly unattainable; like Björn Andrésen, the youth Tadzio in Luchino Visconti's 1971 "Death in Venice" (the film adaptation of Thomas Mann's masterful novel). His remarkable androgynous beauty prompted feminist Germaine Greer to use a photograph of Andrésen on the cover of her book "The Beautiful Boy" (2003). She would have approved of a scent strip of Sycomore tucked in there too.
The musical score is Gustav Mahler's "Adagietto" from his 5th Symphony.
Notes for Sycomore (2008) by Chanel: Vetiver, cypress, juniper, pink pepper, smoke, burning woods.
Sycomore is available at $190 for 200ml Eau de Toilette exclusively at Chanel boutiques. Considering it uncharacteristically lasts quite well, it is an investement.
Andrésen pic via moviemail-online.co.uk Bottle pic via Vogue.com.tw Clip originally uploaded by AssimQuePuderes on Youtube.
If you have been under a rock in a cave in the Sumatran soil, you might have missed the discussion around Guerlain's modus operandi of the last few years. Let's do a very brief recap for those of you who might have: First there was a colossus who bought an historical house: LVMH (that's Louis Vuitton Moet Hennesy) ~the Guerlain boutique at 68 Champs Elysees is getting refurbished and Guerlain starts to produce "niche" and exclusive lines within the brand as well as "for old time's sake" re-issues for those who have access to select distribution and serious trust funds. Then someone pronounces "The End of Civilization as We Know it", when news of a reformulation of one of the house's masterpieces leak: the perfume community sounds its barbaric yawp through the rooftops of the world and Isabelle Rousseau's mail gets spammed. Then that someone changes their mind about a year and a half later pronouncing the pneuma of the original living on in the current juice (sorry, I don't want to go there). In the meantime, industrious Guerlain launches juice after juice, flanker after flanker and name change after name change like the equivalent of Japanese labor on strike: working a 64-hour week. Do they even have time to smell the roses? And when outsourcing is proving too incoherent, when Jean Paul is petering out after years of faithful service, they hire one of their Givaudan protegés, their own resident nose. Last but not least, they issue out their take on erotic tittilation that reads like Régine Deforges on crack for Carnal Elixirs ~a MUA reader succinctly described it as "some Paris Hilton Goes to Versailles nightmare script": if you haven't yet read it, do so on Perfume Posse and don't miss the comments. I admit I didn't make the "charnel house" connection right away but the prose was such a deepest shade of purple I didn't have available grey cells left to proceed the data. And of course prices are skyrocketing all the while: on everything, up till now cheap and cheaper, as if some strange magnetic force is making them all stick together like iron particles .
What exactly is happening to Guerlain? That's not me asking; that's the whole perfume buying public who lowers their brow in awe and respect when entering the Abode; an abode which will become a mausoleum if they lose that respect.
Let's take things from the top. Lutens was on the vanguard of the conceptual fragrance line. When the Salons du Palais Royal opened its doors in 1992, there was no one doing "niche". Apart from those who had small artisanal businesses at the back yard of their homes and they were lovingly preparing batches for themselves and their friends, of course. Or the special commissions by rich people to specific perfume houses. But these are not general exempla, emulated by many. Lutens went where no one had dared set foot before: art-directing a whole series of scents that were inspired by specific visions of a very individual culture, made with traditional care yet modern flair ~in essence, a pioneering act of defiance to current trends (I am reminding you these were the ozonic/marine 90s). He must have lost quite a bit of money at first, as both the formulae were expensive (too many costly natural ingredients) and the packaging, decor and scenario were fine-tuned like a fine specimen by Stradivari.
Success comes to those who wait and imitation is the sincerest form of flattery: A few years later almost everyone was doing their own Lutenesque vision. The exclusivity factor caught on and everyone started realising that the lack of "marketing" on Lutens's part on the Paris exclusives was indeed an admirable marketing tool: the oldest one, actually ~deny this which could be had and you create desire! Consequently, this avalanche of exclusive lines within big brands who cater for two different clienteles, it seems: The hoi polloi and the connoisseurs. [The latter term can be thought to be an euphemism for those who are willing to spend a lot of money and energy hunting down what is elusive yet not always worthwhile, but I will return on this at some other time]. One house followed another in this "game". Hermès was the first to launch an exclusive line of haughty-mighty sparse fragrances (like eating raw artichokes is the pinacle of savoir-faire) for their "boutiques only" just when they hired a resident nose in a move that was crucial: the Hermessences. I am pretty sure Chanel saw the desirability factor of the Hermessences and launched Les Exclusifs in turn: appearing like elegant sketches rather than finished oil on canvases, they utilised modern interpretations of older spermatic ideas in previous fragrances of the house. Even Lancôme re-issued some of their past successes in La Collection, including Cuir, and Givenchy did Les Mythiques.
What was Guerlain to do? The above houses were not primarily perfume houses. Hermès is a glorified saddlery. Chanel an iconic fashion house who had their own cornering on chic that needed modernising in the 80s to get out of the moth-balls of inertia. Givenchy is a designer house relying on the designer's quixotic pursue of elegance, not for some time now. Lancome was skincare and cosmetics and try to convince me otherwise. Guerlain had a legend in their hands: Shalimar (amidst myriads, assuredly, but I'm willing to accept it's their calling card) as well as an arch-snob that demands an acquired taste much like a Trapeze-monk-produced-beer fermented in the bottle (ie.Mitsouko). With the craziness about gourmands in recent years surely they could have tapped that potential and produced something sophisticated and rich in that vein. After all their exquisite treatment of vanillin has consolidated their mythos. Would it be enough? I think they were terribly late with their Spirituese Double Vanille (which admitedly sounds much worse than it actually smells; fist faux pas). Their Shalimar Light was brilliant and they should have pursued in that course stylistically (not in the onomatopoieia part though, because it evokes sugar-free sodas to mind and that wouldn't help; second faux pas).
Guerlain realised they couldn't be left out of the "game" everyone was playing: Enter L'art et la Matière line ~at least visually, but also semantically, very much inspired by the Lutens portfolio. Guerlain fans are crazy about Guerlain anyway, but this allowed them to approach a segment of the niche audience who was after more conceptualised, modern series with lyrical and strange names ( à la Tubereuse Criminelle, which is surely behind the Rose Barbare or Angélique Noire moniker).
It seems to me that Guerlain is on an especially precarious balance: they need to respect their historical tradition (which after all, as an historian, can't help but respect) and to enrich it with some modernity (otherwise they will get obsolete and slowly die along with their old customers). But the practical problem is Guerlain afficionados are not interested in modernity: they want tradition! That die-hard core base is too small to sustain the house alone, however, so they need to corner the modern market (new parties interested in the "hard to get") as well as the mass market to get profits that would fuel the above two scenarios. Therefore they neededed to proceed with segmentation, which they did on the antithetical poles of tradition and modernity:
1) the Il Etait une fois line for the serious traditionalists and collectors in Baccarat crystal bottles with special etchings and Jean Paul's boutonnière molded out of wax (über-tradition of the upper echelons with a price tag to reach the stars) 2) the classic stable of dependables, such as Shalimar, L'heure Bleue, Vétiver et al, with some lifting ~that never gets admitted~ for the old, loyal fans (conservative traditionalists) 3) Les Parisiennes for the younger fans with the desire to hop to Paris and get a memento from a great museum-store (tradition and modernity hand in hand: limited editions that scream "new" in old, royally embossed bottles; travel exclusives that created a following but now put on their party clothes and are unwilling to stay overnight unless you order Veuve Cliquot with those nachos) 4) L'art et la Matiere line (audience: the press people, the niche fans, the blogosphere, the marketing people at rival firms getting a heart attack ~modernity that shows we're alive and kicking, by Jove!).
These moves did revamp their profit margin and their "niche" appeal as well as the interest of collectors and perfume lovers of vintage. And now they growl "for the animal in you" with their mojito-sounding Guerlain Homme and play light bondage games with their Elixir Charnels. It's like a temporary tattoo for kids, hidden in a bag of Cheetos: be a man and go the whole hog with it, damn it!
Will these moves see them through thick and thin in the future? I am very much afraid that they are not ready to see just how deep down the rabbit hole goes...
Photography by Maria Brink courtesy of What Up Thug blog. Guerlain garden at EPCOT courtesy of anelson823
One of my loyal and discerning readers, AlbertCan, informed me a few days ago that according to Forbes, Natalia Vodianova had signed with Guerlain (among others) to front products in their advertising campaigns. The news he scooped (and allowed me to elaborate on, bless his generous heart) are that she is to front their iconic oriental, Shalimar. Perfume Shrine couldn't leave this without some comment, naturally.
Natalia is gorgeous, of course. And her rags-to-riches fairy tale life story makes for interesting reading, peppered with the touches of iconography that fans want their eponymous role-models to assimilate (charity participation, loving family of her own etc). Hailing from the historical Novgorod, a seat of medieval princes (later, under Soviet rule, named Gorgy in honour of the writer Maxim Gorky), she is now a princess herself, married to a Viscount no less. The Cinderella touch... She even has something nice to say about all the photographers who shot her:
"Paolo Roversi is really Italian and makes you feel so beautiful. Mario Testino has that incredible talent of making not only you but everyone around you feel very special. Steven Meisel is so organized and focused, and he always thinks about you as a person and makes sure you're comfortable. Patrick Demarchelier is like a big teddy bear, and a really nice person. And Bruce Weber is like Father Christmas--he never forgets about you. He's very generous."
Where I am getting at?
Natalia's current image of super-polite ice-princess with a deer-in-the-headlights look somehow doesn't suit the idea of Shalimar as the uber-seductive, cunninigly selectioned potion in the galaxy of orientals; nor the brunette type of orientalised romantic ideal that Guerlain has been cultivating for years through the associations of the name with the Indian Gardens on which a great love story flowered. After Shalom Harlow and Fernanda Tavares, Natalia seems too blonde and too innocent(?) for this kind of job. Additionally, there is also the issue of always choosing the whitest Caucasian women for big advertising campaigns of European houses, when it would be nice for a change if we saw a gorgeous black model or a Latina -I am not counting Tavares because she's not- for one of those brands (like Eva Mendes for Calvin Klein's latest Secret Obsession) or a genuine oriental type (remember Jasmin Ghauri?): if not for Shalimar, then for what? I am asking you!
On the other hand, some of the photos that Steven Meisel shot of Natalia for Vogue are definitely the stuff of oneiric gazing that doesn't involve labrador puppies and a house with a white fence in the suburbs... Nor does this one from French Vogue 2005. Same goes still for this photo-shoot for W magazine in 2006. Coincidentally, Paolo Roversi who is responsible for some of her most haunting portraits, has just shot the new print campaign for Shalimar.
Possibly, therefore, there are as many facets and as many pools of dangerous waters to a person as she is willing to plunge herself into! I am thus eagerly looking forward to see how this advertising campaign for Shalimar featuring Natalia Vodianova will go. We will return with commentary soon!
EDITED TO ADD on 4th September: An anonymous reader has been very kind in getting us a glimpse of the new campaign, so here it is:
Next we will be focusing on detail on the moves of the Guerlain brand, with an article that might instigate discussion. And inspired by the new blood in the Shalimar project, we will be reviewing both the original and the flankers of this industrious and profitable for Guerlain monument of perfumery next week. Stay tuned!
Pic of Natalia Vodianova from Vogue. Pics of Shalimar ads (with Shalom Harlow and Fernanda Tavares) courtesy of parfumsdepub.
We had announced the news of the upcoming Calvin Klein fragrance back in May and with it a few musings on how these things work as well as commentary by its new face, sexy actress Eva Mendes; who (to her credit) had contributed a few words on body perception and beauty. Now the fragrance rolled out to actually test it and the proof is in the pudding, so here we are doing a review of it, if only because we had always been great fans of the original Obsession, especially the one geared towards men.
"Secret Obsession explores the secrets that lie between love and madness. It's about being taunted with illicit thoughts and compelled with seeking pleasure. The fragrance is an intoxicating floral oriental weaving together hidden fruits, exotic flowers and a sultry wood signature for a provocative and addictive sexiness. Sultry. Addictive. Exotic."
The fragrance is presented as a floriental, created by Givaudan perfumer Calice Becker and art-directed by Ann Gottlieb who is responsible for many Calvin Klein successful launches. To me however it registers as fruity-spicy-woody, much like the latest Lancome feminine fragrance Magnifique, with which it shares many facets. Poised between Sensuous and Magnifique, along with its congenial sisters, it heralds the new vogue in feminine fragrances: namely, woody, duskier notes.
The initial impression of spraying Secret Obsession is rum-like boozy with an alcoholic hairspray blast petering out quickly, plummy and ripe but not overtly sweet (a good thing!), especially compared with the overall sweeter Magnifique. In Secret Obsession there is a distinct phase in which the resinous, intense aroma of mace provides a welcome surprise as the fragrance opens up on the warmth of skin. In the first century A.D., the Roman writer Pliny described a tree, Myristica fragrancs bearing a nut having two separate flavors. Nutmeg is one flavour coming from the kernel of the fruit and mace is the other. Mace comes from the outer, "lacy" reddish covering of the Myristica tree fruit, but it has a more delicate smell in comparison with nutmeg. On the contrary, floral notes do not register much, which is surprising given the intense character of the flowers listed (orange blossom, jasmine, tuberose). If I were hard-pressed to put my finger on one, I would offer jasmine or the similar, denser note of ylang ylang, but in no way is this especially pronounced in the scheme of things, nor classical in treatment. Its creamy manipulation takes its cue from Songes by Goutal, but whereas the intense ylang ylang and natural jasmine of the latter contributed to a narcotic, intensely heady feel of being on an exotic island's orchard, in Secret Obsession we are met with a postard from the tropics that bears the handwriting of a past love. Perhaps like the gold-flecks of Fragile by Gaultier are meant to represent the confetti remnants of tuberose festivities, we are left with a trail of something past, instead of a presence of the here and now.
The overall effect is tanned skin, cocoa-buttyric, pleasantly cedary-woody, much of it accountable to Cashmeran* and is less loud than the oriental monochromatic amber of the original Obsession by Calvin Klein or the fruity megaphones of Euphoria, but perceptible. Secret Obsession has a linear development that doesn't change much as you wear it: the initial scent becomes warmer and duskier, but doesn't change significantly over time. I wouldn't necessarily deem it too sexy or provocative and would prefer to see it in a body oil concentration where its shady character would shine.
The advertising takes a page off the usual Calvin Klein style: provocation, even if leading to negative publicity, is ultimately good publicity. Censors in the US have banned the commercial and the brand has decided to fight that decision. The furore caused by the commercial didn't raise my eyebrows: just a beautiful woman, actress Eva Mendes, wriggling in bed naked, supposedly only clad by a few drops of Secret Obsession; it's rather well-made, if you ask me. "It really taps into the secrecy of a private moment - where it's clear that Eva is having illicit thoughts," Lori Singer, vice president of global marketing for the brand at Coty Prestige, tells WWD. "It's somewhat up to interpretation - because of how it's shot, and what you see and hear, and what you can't see and hear. You hear her voice, talking about having a sexy secret." Judging by the advertising concept, Marilyn Monroe is still a very influential icon, if the notion that a woman wears nothing but perfume in bed can be traced back to her own statement of opting for Chanel No.5. However those were conservative times and such an oral, and nota bene non visual, statement had the tantalising advantage of making people imagine Marilyn preparing for a lover who would get to profit from her alluring presence laced with a few seductive drops of a fine fragrance. This kind of mythos cemented the reputation of No.5 as not only elegant and prestigious, but also as a weapon of attraction. Those times, however, are over for better or worse.
The main difference I perceive with the current advertising for Secret Obsession is that Eva is implied to be alone in bed: there is no hinted lover about to emerge behind the lattice, thus making the images take a rather auto-erotic turn which might have caught censors off-guard. Personally I fail to see how a soupcon of nipple is provocative or contributes to moral destruction, especially when bombs are let free to explode on prime-time TV news and shows. Such sort of selective censorship reeks of hypocricy to me. But perhaps my European eyes have become jaded, living at a place when clothes drop unhesitatingly at the drop of a pin on national TV without the programme earning the label of X-rated, while violent scenes and films often equal delegation to the after-hours zone.
In any case, the Fabien Baron directed commercial is available for your perusal, so you can judge for yourselves.
Official Notes: Top: exotic plum, mace, rose Damascena Heart: French orange blossom, Egyptian jasmine, tuberose, plum, woods Base: cashmere woods*, burnt amber, Australian sandalwood
In the interests of disclosure, I received a free sample of the new Secret Obsession by Calvin Klein. No, not the bracelets they were advertising to bloggers! An actual decant (ie.hand-poured juice from a bigger bottle into a smaller one). Yes, you heard this right! Not a commercial carded sample, not a full bottle either (probably because I specify to anyone who asks that I need financial details so I can actually pay; that pretty much makes several of them vanish into thin air! The Calvin Klein people to their credit didn't.) How to get hold of your own? Click here or here (and scroll)for your free sample of Secret Obsession.
Secret Obsession has just launched in Europe and is out on September 15 in the US according to the official info, available from major department stores in a brown glass bottle like a turtle's face, which tapers towards the top featuring an amber cap, sort of 70s retro. Eau de Parfum 30ml/1oz, 50ml/1.7oz and 100ml/3.4oz. Satin Body Lotion and Satin Shower Gel in a 200ml/6.7oz tube each. We're taunted to check out everything on it by searching "Secret Obsession Calvin Klein" on Facebook under the Pages tab and to visit the official Secret Obsession site.
*Cashmere woods or Cashmeran is a IFF patented, complex aromachemical that provides a beautiful, velours note with diffuse nuances of earthy-wood and spicy notes (pine, patchouli), fruits and flowers (heliotrope, red fruits, apples and jasmine) and is softly musky-vanillic. It's featured in Ysatis, Amarige, Michael, Lacroix Rouge, Perles de Lalique and many more.
Clip via celebriNet2/Dailymotion.com. Pic of nutmeg courtesy of mydiversekitchen.blog. Bottle pic via Osmoz
Due to the overwhelming participation in the latest draw for full bottles of Andy Tauer's new and as yet unreleased Vetiver Dance , I am extending the participation deadline till Thursday midnight. Winners will be announced at the end of the week.
Thank you for your hundreds of private emails on top of the multitude of comments: they took my breath away when I opened my inbox! So many to wave through! Have to get organised -not my strongest suit- I have lots of work to do, but your compliments and sincere support warm my heart. Rest assured you have been all included.
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Sycomore instead emphasizes its aristocratic dryness of humble origin with a tangy grapefruit opening and subtly cooling, clean muguet notes that complement the Haitian vetiver variety, also used in Guerlain Vétiver, so well. Almost simultaneously it allows soft impressions of a warm incense cloud slowly setting upon evergreen needles and rooty dirt (a la Route de Vétiver by Maître Parfumeur et Gantier) to uplift you into a wistful and introspective contemplation of life and mortality. And if you lower your head and pay attention to its murmur, a resinous, only marginally sweet touch of the licorice note that naturally arises in several distillations of the material itself, slightly reminiscent of Dior's Eau Noire drydown, vibrates at a low frequency, along with woodfire smoke.
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