Fleur de Feu by Guerlain: fragrance review of a rare vintage beauty

If you ever come in contact with volcanic earth you will discover that despite the sulphurous yellow emanations it is exceptionally fertile. Stationed as I am in the land of numerous volcanos silenced for years but always at the ready to burst forth their bituminous menace, I can better appreciate the inspiration behind Fleur de Feu by Guerlain: the fragile yet sturdy beauty of flowers that rise their head on an island volcano.
Created by Jaques Guerlain in 1948 (according to Le Portail des Antiquaires, while others attribute a 1949 date), Fleur de Feu, which means "fiery flower", was the first Guerlain perfume to celebrate the optimism felt after the end of WWII. Guerlain had only produced the legendary Dawamesk during those difficult years (in 1942 actually), so they were eager to turn a new leaf. Much like Christian Dior had written in his autobiography referring to Miss Dior ("Europe was tired of letting off bombs, all it wanted now was to let off firewords!"), the festivity and joie de vivre inherent in that primal force of nature, fire, has inspired perfumers with connotations of radiance, warmth and passion and Fleur de Feu was masterminded as Jacques Guerlain's generous gift to women.

Fleur de Feu is quite rare since it's been discontinued for decades and it's even rarer in extrait de parfum (pure parfum) which I am now going to review, but like I mentioned before a thesaurus (with the original Greek meaning of treasure-trove) of vintage Guerlain fragrances has ended in my lap inspiring me to write and appreciate the tastes of a bygone era: When women displayed a different interpretation of their feminine wiles and when sexuality was revealed in shapes that accentuated the female form.

The scent of Fleur de Feu is warm and inviting, a floral almost quasi-gourmand with the plush carnation heart that will be reprised in Atuana in 1952. It shares the rich note that appears in the scorching peppery whiplash of the admirable vintage Poivre by Caron at a time when the perfumer's base Dianthine (first devised in 1902 by Chuit & Naef -its formula now owned by Firmenich, same as with Cyclosia and Iralia) was supremely popular. After all, the original L'Origan by Coty also featured it.
Although Fleur de Feu bears the epithet of "fiery" however, the composition here smothers it with decadent flowers of which a rich jasmine and ylang ylang can be very clearly detected, as well as powdery tonalities of iris and vanilla, so characteristic of the Guerlinade accord (supposedly the base that appears like a signature in every vintage and several modern Guerlain fragrances). There seems to be a little benzoin wamth that paired with the butterscotch-like vanilla and a hint of tobacco flower (I might be hallucinating however as to the latter note) might allude to the delights of leisure at home, at a time when women were expected to be efficient homemakers with a roast in the oven and a bavaroise in the fridge, while simultaneously bursting out of their hourglass curvaceous attire. The slight shift in focus from the optimism of l'après guerre to the bombshell ideal of the 1950s can be witnessed in the retro print advertisements for Fleur de Feu: from the romanticism of the young woman holding a bouquet of flowers to the excited bust of a red-faced Maenad. The parfum concentration is seamless with little progression, a very feminine purring composition that radiates with warmth and stays poised on my skin melding with its intimate effluvium for hours on end.

The art deco ribbed bottle with a pedestral for Fleur de Feu was made by Bacarrat around 1948 (according to Roja Dove), breaking with the more rococo tradition and introducing simpler shapes. It was designed to resemble the gigantic American skyscrapers of that time, same as with Ode later on, according to Dulcinea Northon Smith's research. It's interesting to note that this was also the inspiration behind the old blue bottle of Je Reviens by Worth; such was the impact of the brave steel and glass architecture on the pulse of culture, at a time when everything seemed possible and affluence was slowly building!

In the beginning of 2008 Guerlain decided to use the copyrighted name on their makeup collections, much like they did with the lamentably discontinued Parure fragrance: Fleur de Feu nowadays denotes the '08 spring collection of eyeshadow palettes and Kiss Kiss Gloss limited editions. Which probably means that it won't be any time soon we see the re-issue of the glorious fragrance...

If you are persistent you might find some on Ebay or at least some Eau de Cologne concentration from the 50s/60s at Sarah's Perfumes or Eau de Toilette at The Perfumed Court.

Pics: Ad illustrations "Jeune femme avec bouquet de fleurs" for Guerlain's Fleur de Feu by Darcy 1949 and illustration by Darcy 1951, courtesy of Parfum de Pub and Vintage Perfume Publications respectively. Bottle pic uploaded by orchid74 on MUA, with many thanks.

Announcement of Winner and Upcoming Surprises

The Vetiver Draw created lots of interest in comments and private emails and I thank each and every one of you for your questions which keep me on my toes, your interesting comparisons and your overall participation. However much like in Highlander, there can be only one, and this time it is Scentself! Please mail me (using the address in profile at your right) with your info so I can send the delightful sample trio your way.

As for the rest, up next in Perfume Shrine along with other surprises we will tackle some very rare, collectible vintage Guerlain fragrances which have come my way thanks to Orchid74, a discerning collector. And for your delectation there will be another lucky draw with a very special vintage prize!
Stay tuned!

Insolence Eau de Parfum by Guerlain: fragrance review and comparison

If the description "Godzilla floral" doesn't scare the horses, perhaps the addendum "Guerlain decided this thing should not even try to be classy and has embraced it as the most deliciously vulgar perfume on the market today" could. But before making hasty assumptions that the above words of Luca Turin are meant derogatorily (they're not), wait for it: Insolence in Eau de Parfum, much like the previous Eau de Toilette incarnation, is seriously good and reminiscent of the Guerlain lineage in all its violets glory. Even if it's wearing a lilac dress illuminated in neon, it doesn't brush shoulders with the highlighter pens of Gaultier's latest, Ma Dame. Which is a good thing.

Guerlain would want us to think it's "created for an eccentric and chic woman, who thrives for perfection". Insolence Eau de Parfum is certainly eccentric if eccentricity can be defined in etymological terms: έκκεντρος from which it derives means "out of center" in Greek. Insolence Eau de Parfum therefore arrives as a skewed, even more intense, intoxicating brew in a purple-coloured twin of the Serge Mansau dishes-in-the-kitchen-sink bottle for the Eau de Toilette, itself no shy violet! Maurice Roucel has been working on violets intently lately, masterminding the earthy intrigue of the unisex Dans tes Bras for Frédéric Malle, full of salicylates and Cashmeran to give diffusion and emollience to what would have been the harsh nail-polish remover and hairspray accord that he first used in the Eau de Toilette version of Insolence.
Violets, often married with roses, as in the embulient romantic Paris by Yves Saint Laurent, have provided the intriguing conspirator in perfumes of variable constituents and antithetical moods over the years: the feminine playfulness in tutus in Malle's Lipstick Rose and Drôle de Rose for L'artisan Parfumeur, the magical realism element in Alice in Wonderland by Konstantin Mihov's Parfums d'Imperfiction, or the astrigent leather and tweeds of Balmain's Jolie Madame. And in the case of the Guerlain house violets have been a sine qua non: from the brief inclusion in the cassie and heliotropin wonder Après L'Ondée to the delectable pastilles resting on amber in Guet Apens/Attrape Coeur and Vol de Nuit Évasion all the way to their makeup product Météorites; in turn lending its star-struck name to a violet-infused potion of limited edition that mimics that softly powdery feel of their pastel-coloured spheres of delight. When Insolence Eau de Toilette first came on the market a few years ago it had elements of the above and L'Heure Bleue (or Farnésiana?) as well, making me pronounce it the first step in the right direction for the Guerlain mainstream line in a long time.

For Insolence Eau de Parfum the composition is resting atop the familiar sweet violets with subtle iris accents and enough of the red fruits tartness of the previous Eau de Toilette to which Roucel allegedly added tuberose, orange blossoms and peppery greens. You would be hard pressed to seperate them however and there is a gourmand quality which according to Albert might hark all the way back to Angel. The initial impression is even sweeter and more powdery on top rather than at the base compared with the Eau de Toilette, linear and without the initial flou and Aqua-Net note of the latter, which I admit I was not opposed myself. Constrasted, the two come off as sisters, but with the younger being more sensual and exhibitionist, the older a little more neurotically appealing and with the powdery progression reversed. Both are fronted by Hillary Swank in the print ads.

Summarising the Eau de Parfum is more approachable if you're into big, loud, sweet florals, quite close to Météorites indeed, with a liquorice flavour woven into the body of the fragrance resulting in a sci-fi rococo. Exceptionally long lasting too, wittily compared to the half life of uranium, therefore judicious use with the spray is highly recommended.
Although it was another fragrance that has been tagged as "a violet hit by a meteorite" recently, Insolence Eau de Parfum gives me the impression it has been circling eccentric orbits around a black-hole-sun since forever.

The sizes and prices for Insolence Eau de Parfum start from 52 Euro for 30 ml, 75 Euro (50 ml) to 105 Euro (100 ml). Available in the US as well by the end of the year.

Guerlain Insolence editions include: Insolence EDT, Insolence EDP, My Insolence.

Pic of Insolence Eau de Parfum advertisement via Fragrantica

Vetiver Tonka by Hermes: fragrance review and lucky draw

To bean or not to bean? The answer at Hermès is there is no bean counting in their pursuit for true luxury, but when it comes to perfumery, they go tonka bean all the way! What's the point of my word-play? That the delectable raw material of tonka beans has been utilised in the most delicious way paired with earthy vetiver in their mouthwatering fragrance Vétiver Tonka. Composed by in-house perfumer Jean Claude Ellena in 2004 as part of the original quartet for Hermès's exclusive collection for their boutiques, the Hermessences, Vétiver Tonka was meant to interpret the sensation of wool. (the other Hermessences also capture the drape of various fabrics). "Comfortable, fresh, affirmed" is how they chose to describe it themselves and I couldn't agree more.

Subtly edible notes with cigar-flavoured accents are folded into a classy amalgam by the genius light hand of a conjurer: Jean Claude Ellena's strongest suit. The warm smokiness that alludes to pouches of rich tobacco is an element that I am sorely missing in the current batches of the classic Vétiver by Guerlain where it was providing an inviting hug after the grassy delights, but happily the coumarin-rich smell of tonka beans remains intact. Guerlain's version is of course overall much more citrusy, vetiver in itself possessing an hesperidic facet that is often used as a springboard in composing masculine colognes around it. Jean Claude merely hints at that aspect of the exotic grass seguing on to "cleaner" notes that almost instantenously get the smothering treatment of an artistic flou via hazy notes, much like the flour part of his Bois Farine for L'artisan parfumeur.

Vétiver Tonka encompasses the tempered note of vetiver that re-appeared in Terre d'Hermès two years later ~also by Ellena. He seems to love the material, using the Haitian vetiver essential oil, vetiverol as well as vetyveryl acetate. Ever since Déclaration, a spicy masterpiece in my opinion, he has been using all those beloved materials in various incarnations, all the way to the specifically ordered vetiver extraction he procured for the intriguing and perplexing Un Jardin après la Mousson. That said, lovers of strong, dank, almost musty vetiver should rather look for it in Route de Vetiver by Maitre Parfumer et Gantier or Vétiver Extraordinaire by F.Malle.

The violet-like note of alpha isomethyl-ionone (which is sniffable in another Hermessence too, Paprika Brasil, where it takes almost an iris nuance) is the humorous touch that Jean Claude tricks us with: he did the same thing pairing beta ionone (also reminiscent of violets) with hedione to come up with the scent of tea in Bulgari's Eau parfumée au Thé Vert.
The dominant force however is tonka bean , which has a hay/caramel vanilla-ish scent, very soothing, very creamy. Smelling it from the bottle or on a blotter at first it seems a bit clashing ~to be excpected since the two elements are so antithetical on first reading, but on skin it is predominantly sweetish, velvety soft and nutty-oily, which I find sublimely comforting. The naturally dry and woody smell of vetiver as well as a slight bitterness inherent in tonka beans provide a counterpoint to the sweet float of the vanillic base, so the whole is perfectly balanced between dryness and comfort; which sets it one step ahead of the equally mouthwatering but much more gourmand Ambre Narguilé from the same line and for me personally makes it more wearable in warmer weather than the denser Vétiver Oriental by Serge Lutens. This charming duet dances in situ for hours with little change, but boredom never enters the equation as the combined efforts sing at an unheard of before frequency. Additionally there is an interplay of cool and warm facets which makes for stimulating results making Vétiver Tonka suitable for every climate and every season. It lasts very well for an eau de toilette, perhaps more than any other in the collection, is perfectly unisex and has moderate, elegant sillage.

So to answer my introductory word-play, I have been for the bean in a most decisive way ever since I first tried it: Reader, I have spent most of last summer in it!

For one lucky reader interested in a sample triad of the last three niche vetivers reviewed (Malle, Lutens, Hermes), plase state your interest in the comments.
Draw will run throughout the weekend.
Notes for Vétiver Tonka : bergamot, neroli, lily of the valley, cereal notes, dried fruit, tonka bean, vetiver, tobacco, sandalwood.

Vétiver Tonka by Hermès (2004) forms part of the Hermessences exclusive collection, sold at their boutiques in spartan bottle with leather-covered caps. It comes in either 100ml/2.4oz or a set of 4x15ml/0.5oz travel set sprayers. (There is also the option of getting it in a set of pre-selected 15ml travel sprayers along with 3 other Hermessences for the uniform price of 150 euros).

For a comprehensive analysis of vetiver fragrances click Vetiver Series.

Pic of Ralph Fiennes courtesy of Evy Nef at photobucket. Bottle pic through Fragrantica.

Vetiver Oriental by Serge Lutens: fragrance review

Sporadically one comes across a perfume composition that is perplexing yet enthralling like a chameleon actor who manages to marry opposites, hiding a little cruelty under a suave façade.
Serge Lutens has made history in producing influencial "chef d'oeuvres". His Vétiver Oriental, although not extrapolating the oriental zenith that other fragrances in his line accomplish in a more assured way, such as El Attarine , Arabie or Douce Amère, is stunning nevertheless. The reason is as much aesthetic as it is intellectual: I cannot shake the impression that the task of scaling down, of attenuating the formula to the richness and sumptuousness of the material's roots is an algebric challenge, a piano étude aimed at perfecting a specific agilité that is not in tune with the Lutensian way of usual opulence.
And yet...and yet the result speaks in hushed, nocturnal voices of a decadent drawl; a few chiseled citrusy consonants, a little rubbery-smoky with the rosiness of gaiac wood, surprisingly sweet-spoken licorice-like (deriving from lots of anisaldehyde) with the earthy bitter edge of dry cocoa and loads and loads of polished woods, almost laminated. The natural earthiness of vetiver is heavily flanked by this strange bittersweet idea which was accordingly used in tandem with patchouli in Bornéo 1834 to magnificent results. The quiet plush of balsams and resins (perhaps Peru balsam?) and animalic-like ladbanum elements bring the recollection of warm skin not stripped of its natural oils through the use of perfumes and deodorants, a tad salty. There are some common elements with Le Baiser du Dragon by Cartier which uses vetiver in an orientalised composition of amaretto hints and a tropical white flower in order to cut through the sweetness.

However if the onomatopœia is anything to go by, Serge Lutens and his trusty cohort Christopher Sheldrake, fooled us into believing this is a vetiver-sounding fragrance: it is not and therein lies its strength or weakness. Contrary to the painful pureness of Vétiver Extraordinaire by Frédéric Malle, Vétiver Oriental goes for the trajectory of the root, inviting a Guess Who? game like the late Theresa Duncan used to say; veering into the quasi-gourmand makes it a fabulous amuse-guele but somehow too much as a main course. Nevertheless, this is the time of year when it naturally shines its golden viscosity: the crisp weather brings out all its velvety attributes while its exceptional lasting power and moderate sillage are welcome comforts.

My friend Gaia wrote:"What I'm getting is a feeling of a dark jungle, exotic and wild. As it unfolds its beauty, you also sense the danger that lurks just behind, tempting you to go in deeper". If Vetiver Oriental is indeed a lion in the jungle, then it is the emaciated Scar with his almond shaped green eyes lowly roaring in silvery tones "a shining new era is tiptoeing nearer; just listen to teacher".

Notes for Vetiver Oriental: sap, musk, sandalwood, Iris Pallida, undergrowth notes, amber, chocolate, rockrose labdanum, vetiver, gaiac wood, mosses.

Vetiver Oriental is a Palais Royal Paris exclusive created in 2002 contained in the characteristic bell-shaped jars. It was released for export for a limited time only for winter 2004 in the refined, sparse rectangular bottle. It has now reverted back to exclusive status.

For a comprehensive analysis of vetiver fragrances click Vetiver Series.

Jeremy Irons pic via Getty images, bottle pic via Les Salons du Palais Royal