In Search of Madeleines: Part 2 ~the Modern Twists

~by guest writer AlbertCAN

‘Tis should have been with a more grandiose setting, but one of the defining moments of my life took place in a non-descript evening when I was only eight. My father, tired of all the usual derivative comedy sketches the television had to offer, bluntly declared that all variations in life were merely the combination and the recombination of existing ideas. Being a researcher at a prestigious national laboratory, he promptly recalled how his fellow researchers simply grouped existing ideas and transformed them with an interesting twist. Voilà! A new idea would be born if one only looked at the past hard enough.Few people may consider my late father as a genius in disguise but I am starting to see how his theory has grown on me. (Years ago, unable to explain my father’s difficult life, an astrologer could only utter that my father was meant to be, figuratively speaking, a water dragon untimely stranded on a shallow beach. Sadly, such a poetic remark couldn’t have been more appropriate.) While I don’t agree with everything my father had to offer, his minute lecture on the way of innovation year ago has stuck with me to this day.

Yes, truly revolutionary ideas notwithstanding I now believe the revolving idea underneath all this shall be neatly summed by the insightful French proverb “Plus ça change, plus c'est la même chose.” [The more things change, the more they remain the same.] Actually, such caveat is necessary when exploring the modern incarnations of the legendary madeleines—perhaps such a paradigm will allow the offerings to sound less sacrilegious. After all, as Baudelaire might say, the silent muse has her mysterious, fickle ways…But how can a classic French delicacy, given its intricate negotiation of gastronomic ratios, manage to produce a gamut of modern incarnations? Surprisingly enough, I believe the infinite variations of madeleine have something to do with its easy-going nature: while the cakes do not withstand the test of time once baked, the master recipe itself is shockingly reliant. During the research stage of my writing I have tried almost all the quasi-Frankenstein gastronomic experimentations on the cakes—a tad less of sugar here, a larceny of butter (yes, I even used soft-spread margarine with a 5% fat content), a wild swap of exotic flavours, a change of mixing process…and time after time the madeleines rise to the challenge. Sure, sometime the cakes sulk when I ask too much, leaving me with depressingly sunken hunchbacks (yes, I’m not kidding)—but never once had I failed to produce tender, flavourful morsels that couldn’t delight the people around me. I even got lucky a few times and discovered lovely twists along the way—you can too so long the following guidelines are followed:

Locate fail-proof, all-purpose master recipes first: follow the instructions very carefully before venturing on your own. DO NOT EXPERIMENT WITH THE FUNDEMENTS UNTIL YOU KNOW THE MASTER RECIPES INSIDE AND OUT.
When experimenting with your own twist the general ratio of wet ingredients (sugar, egg, butter, flavouring agents) and dry ingredients (flour, baking powder, salt, occasional flavouring agents) must be held relatively constant. If you work with a top-notch master recipe a benign switch of equivalent ingredients from time to time shall not deflate the results. (God knows how many times I have switched the flavours due to a random change of heart.) However, hell shall have no fury like an ill-proportioned batch of madeleines that refuse to come out of the pan!
Carefully (and I do mean carefully) record your changes so the results can be replicated once successful—or promptly head back to the drawing board if the result is less than satisfactory.
Be honest upon evaluating the success of the variation. A great madeleine recipe must produce plump cakes with a soft, airy texture with an intricate aroma. Any flavour that gets lost in the asthmatics of egg and butter, no matter how precious in the first place, shouldn’t be recognized as a success. Worse, any flavour that refuses to blend in shall be a Proustian nightmare!

So how diverse can the modern madeleines be? Well, by the virtue of straight-on ingredient substitutions the lemon zest flavour can be switched into almost any other citrus flavour—orange, clementine, tangerine, mandarin varieties can be quite common. (On the other hand I haven’t tried grapefruit, yuzu and pomelo, so I can’t comment on those versions.) The classic madeleine can even shed its vanilla image by, well, getting rid of its vanilla extract element by choosing to be scented with rose, neroli or lavender water. Moreover, chefs have even engineered gastronomic hybridizations by blending elements of madeleines with another French classic: financier.
The colourful past of the financiers should be duly noted before progressing further. A financier, simply put, is a tea cake marked by the addition of almond, icing sugar, and/or beurre noisette (caramelized butter), traditionally baked in coin-shaped rectangular moulds since it became popular in the chic financial district which immediately surrounded the old Bourse Paris, the financial heart of the French capital that pulsed at its own rhythm blocks away from the iconic La Madeleine. The financiers are said to have received their name due to the patronage of the rich bankers, whose waistlines undoubtedly plumped up with a few unabashed servings of these plump cakes. (The French people, above all, aren’t short of a dry sense of humour.)[*]

With the information above I have here a humble fruit of labour: a hybrid between a madeleine and a financier recipe. Originally I used orange blossom water for flavouring, but the black sheep within ended up using osmanthus syrup instead. The transcendence of the osmanthus aroma has been widely noted (including in my blog when I did a review on Hermès Osmanthe Yunnan). A quick word on osmanthus flavouring, however: I used osmanthus syrup (糖桂花), which is free of salt and preserved plum unlike the traditional osmanthus paste (桂花醬). Actually, I dislike osmanthus paste so much that I wouldn’t use it in a million years! I got my osmanthus syrup (below), from T&T Supermarket, the Asian-Canadian supermarket chain here in Canada, although I’m sure any respectable Asian specialty grocery store shall carry it. If you can’t find it then simply substitute the osmanthus syrup with orange blossom water, although the flavour shall obviously be different.

Anyhow, the recipe:
Orange Almond Madeleines with Osmanthus

1/3 cup all-purpose flour
1/3 cup blanch almond, finely grounded
3/4 tsp. double-acting baking power (do not use regular)
Pinch of salt
1/2 cup of sugar
Grated zest of ¼ sweet orange
2 large eggs, at room temperature
2 tsp. osmanthus syrup
3/4 stick (6 tablespoons) unsalted butter, melted and cooled

To bake the new madeleines, simply make the following substitutions in the traditional madeleine recipe:

1. Blend the 1/3 cup of all-purpose flour, 1/3 cup blanch almond with the double-acting baking powder and salt.
2. Substitute the lemon zest with orange zest: add the orange with the osmanthus syrup when mixing them with sugar.
Follow the rest of the instruction as is and you shall be rewarded with something close to the following batch I made a few days ago. (Sorry about the excessive dusting of flour—it was about 5 A.M. by the time I finished baking these…)

Well, as you might have noticed I mentioned a generic variation first, for my fidgeting of the traditional recipe shall pale in comparison to Pierre Hermé’s daring chocolate madeleines recipe, almost a hybrid between a devil’s food cake and…something else altogether: given the rich chocolate flavour the cake is surprisingly chocolate-free, relying only on a few tablespoons of cocoa powder to do the trick. In fact, I now consider this to be the Serge Lutens of madeleines, for the simple ingredients yield a multitude of effects that are simply beyond description: the lemon simply floats above the dense flavour, providing just the right contrast to the chocolate flavour. Moreover, the chocolate madeleines store extremely well—these are the only ones that won’t become sticky in room temperature. Quite the opposite: the chocolate madeleines may become a little dry but it’s perfect for Proustian dipping!
Since I’m reviewing the recipe I shall simply type out the instruction. The following is from “Chocolate Desserts by Pierre Hermé” by Dorie Greenspan: I shall complete my review of this recipe after quoting the instruction.

Chocolate and Lemon Madeleines by Pierre Hermé

An overnight rest in the refrigerator is what gives these madeleines that characteristic bump in the center. If you’re in a hurry, chill them for an hour—you won’t get as pronounced a bump, but the cookies will bake better for the hill. (Pierre Hermé)

½ cup plus 1 tablesppon (70 grams) all-purpose flour
3 ½ tablespoons Dutch-processed cocoa powder, preferably Valrhona
½ teaspoon double-acting baking powder
1/3 cup plus 2 tablespoons (90 grams) sugar
Pinch of salt
Grated zest of ¼ lemon
2 large eggs, at room temperature
6 ½ tablespoons (3 ¼ ounces; 100 grams) unsalted butter, at room temperature

1. Sift together the flour, cocoa, and baking powder and set aside. Put the sugar, salt, and lemon zest in a medium bowl and rub everything together with your fingertips until the sugar is moist, grainy, and very aromatic.
2. Using a whisk, beat the eggs into the lemon-sugar until the mixture is blended. Squish the butter through your fingers or smear it under the heel of your hand to create what is called a pomade and add it to the bowl. Still working with the whisk, beat in the butter just to get it evenly distributed. Gently whisk in the sifted flour mixture, stirring only until the flour is incorporated and the mixture is smooth. Press a piece of plastic wrap against the surface of the batter and chill it overnight before baking. The overnight rest helps the cookies develop the characteristic bump on their backs; if you don’t have time for an overnight rest, try to give the batter at least an hour in the refrigerator.
3. When you are ready to bake the cookies, center a rack in the oven and pre-heat the oven to 425 degrees Fahrenheit (220 degrees Celsius). Butter a 12-mold madeleine pan, then dust the molds with flour, tapping out the excess. (Even if you have a non-stick madeleine pan, it’s a good idea to butter and flour the molds.)
4. Divide the batter evenly among the madeleine molds. Don’t worry about flattening the batter—the heat will do that. Place the pan in the oven, insert a wooden spoon in the door to keep it slight ajar, and immediately turn the oven temperature down to 350 degrees Fahrenheit (180 degrees Celsius). Bake the cookies for 13 to 15 minutes, or until they are domed and spring back when pressed lightly. Unmold the cookies onto a work surface—you may have to rap the madeleine pan against the counter to release the cookies—then transfer them to a rack to cool to room temperature.

Makes 12 cookies

Keeping: Madeleines can be kept at room temperature in an airtight tin for about 2 days or frozen for up to 2 weeks.

I’ve been baking using the recipe above for almost a year now and it’s just generally a dream to work with…except two minute details. Firstly, I find the butter-smearing process a bit of a nightmare to execute, for the lumps of butter require extra elbow grease in order to incorporate the fat into the batter. (Eventually I simply just melt the butter and blend it as is, which works out just as well in my humble opinion.) Secondly, a temperature-related issue: I find the oven-door-jamming trick, as ingenious as it is, to be too much a hassle for me, so I just set my oven to 350 degrees Fahrenheit.

So does the chocolate recipe allow one to substitute an infinite variety of citrus zest, just like the original madeleine? Unfortunately, no. So far the lemon works best: the others simply become too muted in the end. Even lime and mandarin zests become very subtle in comparison to the chocolate flavour. I have, however, enjoyed a strange pleasure of blending the recipe with its companion, tea…

You see, while specs of unfurled tea leaves can be unsightly when shown against the primrose-tinted classic madeleines, the dark chocolate backdrop generally hides the tea. In fact, the combination is so elegant that I am considering forgoing the pain-staking zest-grating process altogether! While Darjeeling tea and Earl Grey tea works reasonably well, my favorite is actually masala chai. Somehow the combination produces very subtly spicy cakes with an interesting texture: it is actually a pleasure to bite into fine pieces of clove and ginger. So with the modifications above I present you the third variation based on the recipe by Pierre Hermé:

Masala Chai Chocolate Madeleines

½ cup plus 1 tablesppon (70 grams) all-purpose flour
3 ½ tablespoons Dutch-processed cocoa powder, preferably Valrhona
½ teaspoon double-acting baking powder
1/3 cup plus 2 tablespoons (90 grams) sugar)
Pinch of salt
2 tsps of chai tea[†]
2 large eggs, at room temperature
6 ½ tablespoons (3 ¼ ounces; 100 grams) unsalted butter, at room temperature, melted

1.Sift together the flour, cocoa, and baking powder: set aside. Using another bowl, blend the sugar, salt, and chai tea together thoroughly.

2.Using a whisk, beat the eggs and incorporate into the chai-sugar mixture. Still working with the whisk, barely beat in the melted butter. Gently whisk in the sifted flour mixture, gently stir until the flour mixture is fully incorporated, care not to overbeat the batter. Press a piece of plastic wrap against the surface of the batter and chill it for at least one hour before use, although best to refrigerate it overnight.

3.Prior to baking center a rack in the oven and pre-heat the oven to 350 degrees Fahrenheit (180 degrees Celsius). Carefully utter a 12-mold madeleine pan, dusting the molds with flour and tapping out the excess.

4.Divide the batter evenly among the madeleine molds. Bake the cookies for 13 to 15 minutes or until they are domed and spring back when pressed lightly. Unmold the cookies onto a work surface and transfer them to a rack to cool to room temperature.

Makes 12 cookies

Anyhow, my batch looks like this…

So with the infinite varieties of modern madeleines, I hope this post has inspired you come up with your own set of variations: who knows, maybe these cakes will enrich your aromatic memories as well!

Photos: Osmanthus syrup from blog.sina.com.cn/junsmore, madeleine photos by AlbertCAN.
[*] Poilâne, one of the famous boulengeries in Paris, makes a chic shortbread cookie sinisterly titled “Punitions” (Punishment), a wink to the consequences if one gives in one too many times.
[†] You may need to quickly grind the tea if the spices are a bit chunky for your taste, although I have never had such problems. I prefer using organic chai tea. You might want to toast the tea in a small saucepan before use, though I often don’t do so for the sake of simplicity.

Winner of sample....

...of the Zizan draw is Abigail! Please use the mail me addy in my profile at the right to send me your particulars, so I can send it along.
Thank you everyone for the participation and till next time...

Myth Debunking 1: What Are Aldehydes, How do Aldehydes Smell and Chanel No.5

Ask any aspiring perfumista about aldehydes and you will hear that they are synthetic materials first used in Chanel No.5, that thanks to them this is the first and the prototype of synthetic fragrances and that aldehydes themselves have a champagne-like, sparkly, fizzy odor that makes the fragrance fly off the skin. This is what they have been told time and again. Ask any seasoned perfumephile and you will hear that aldehydes have a waxy, citrusy or rosy aroma, like snuffed-out candles (Luca Turin was instrumental to that with his references appearing in “Emperor of Scent”). The truth? It’s a little more complicated than either!

It’s a fact that aldehydes became famous through their introduction in copious amounts into the formula of Chanel No.5 in 1921. However No.5 is definitely NOT the first fragrance to feature synthetic aldehydes :

~"Though Chanel No. 5 is recognized as the first Aldehydic fragrance, created in the mid-twenties, the truth is that the first Aldehydic fragrance was Rêve D'Or(Golden Dream), [1]created in 1905 by Armingeat." (sic[2]).

Nor is No.5 the first modern perfume to feature synthetic components (that honor belongs to Fougère Royale -Royal Fern- by Paul Parquet for Houbigant in 1882). Aldehydes themselves are organic compounds present in various natural materials (for instance natural citrus essences such as the one from orange rind, rose oil, pine essence, citronella and cinnamon bark ~they even appear in bovine heart muscle!). Several essence reconstitutions by chemists involved using aldehydes as various types can also be synthesized in the laboratory.

Aldehydes (same as ketones) are organic compounds which incorporate a carbonyl functional group (that's C=O). The carbon atom of this group has two remaining bonds that may be occupied by hydrogen or alkyl or aryl substituents. If at least one of these substituents is hydrogen, the compound is an aldehyde. If neither is hydrogen, the compound is a ketone. The majority of aldehydes and ketones have strong odors. Ketones generally have a pleasant smell and they are frequently found in perfumes (e.g. muscone in musk-smelling colognes). They are also used in food flavorings. Aldehydes vary in smell with most of the lower molecular weight smelling bad (rotten fruits), yet some of the higher molecular weight aldehydes and aromatic aldehydes smell quite pleasant and are thus used in perfumery. Formaldehyde is the simplest aldehyde with a central carbon atom bound to two hydrogen atoms (H2C=O). Discovered in Russia by A. M. Butlerov in 1859 it is very reactive, used in dyes, medical drugs, insecticides and famously as a preservative and embalming fluid.
Aliphatic aldehydes possess intriguing smells outside the realm of simplistically nice: butyraldehyde for example smells of rancid butter (from βούτυρο/butyro which means "butter" in Greek)! Acetaldehyde is the name of the shortest carbon chain aldehyde and is one of the oldest known aldehydes (first made in 1774 by Carl Wilhelm Scheele). Its structure however was not completely understood until Justus von Liebig determined the constitution of acetaldehyde 60 years later, described its preparation from ethanol, and baptised this chemical group “aldehydes”.

Hardly a fragrance exists without some kind of aldehyde in it, which incidentally makes insisting the greatness of No.5 is due to its synthetic materials comparable to saying that the Pyramids are monumental because of their shape alone. It is the cleverness of marketing and the propagation of a myth that No.5 was meant to evoke an unnatural smell (because supposedly Coco Chanel insisted that she wanted a perfume smelling of a woman and not of flowers ~"women do not want to smell of a bed of roses") which gave rise to this confusion. Chanel No.5 and No.22 later owe their vivid sprakle to a specific subgroup of aldehydes which are called “fatty”: strings of carbon atoms (between 8 and 13) coded in accordance to that number of atoms (ie.C8) with nomenclature deriving from Greek numerics, such as octanal from οκτώ/octo (=eight), in which each of the 8 carbon atoms is connected to two hydrogen atoms. The “bouquet” of aldehydes C10, C11, and C12 in Chanel No.5 became so popular that all consequent “aldehydic fragrances” used that sequence of aldehydes, giving a fizzy perfume-y scent that is quite characteristic with the direct result of having the perfume lover confused as to how aldehydes themselves smell. Fatty aldehydes have a citrusy or floral note, and a pronounced fatty/waxy/soapy tone which is very apparent if you consider a modern fragrance that uses them in high ratio: Sicily by Dolce & Gabbana. The soapy feel is unmistakeable! As an exercise compare that smell with your Chanel No.5: you will pick up the soapy facets in that one as well. Another reason that they read as “soap” is exactly because they have been used in the production of soap for years to give that fresh lemony feel.

Most widely used aldehydes in perfumery are C7 (heptanal, naturally occuring in clary sage and possessing a herbal green odour), C8 (octanal, orange-like), C9 (nonanal, smelling of roses), C10 (decanal, powerfully evocative of orange rind; Citral, a more complicated 10-carbon aldehyde, has the odor of lemons), C11 (undecanal , “clean” aldehydic, naturally present in coriander leaf oil~also used is unsaturated C11 undecen-1-al), C12 (Lauryl aldehyde evocative of lilacs or violets), C13 (waxy, with grapefruit tone)and the infamous C14 peach-skin note of Mitsouko: technically not an aldehyde, but a lactone ~gamma undecalactone.

Often the compounds are patented under commercial names; therefore their true nature remains arcane even to perfume lovers who might have seen them mentioned. For instance Triplal, a patented molecule by IFF: its chemical name is 2,4-dimethyl-3-cyclohexene-1-carboxaldehyde. Its smell? Powerfully green and herbal, like crushing ligustra leaves between fingers. None of the characteristic aldehydes of Chanel No.5!
One interesting ingredient is phenylacetaldehyde which has a pronounced green note (top in natural narcissus and thus used to recreate a narcissus note in perfumery). The hydrocinnamic aldehydes are another family of materials from the manipulation of benzene and their odor profile resembles lily of the valley (muguet) and cyclamen. One of them is the famous Lilial (patented name for lily aldehyde; also known as Lilistralis), widely used in the replication of that elusive natural essence, lily of the valley. Another is Cyclamen aldehyde (usually produced with cumene as a starting material).
Aromatic aldehydes have very complex chemical structures but are the easiest to identify by smell. Anisaldehyde smells like licorice. Benzaldehyde on the other hand, has an odour profile of almonds and has several chemical constituents: cinnamaldehyde, amylcinnamic aldehyde, hexylcinnamic aldehyde. Condensation of benzaldehyde with other aldehydes gives a series of α-substituted cinnamlaldehydes, the lowest member of which is used in the production of cinnamyl alcohol, very important in the production of spicy perfumes (cinnamon note). Higher members, on the other hand, such as amylcinnamic aldehydes (ACA) and hexylcinnamic aldehyde (HCA) project a fatty jasmine impression despite their abscence from natural jasmine oils! Most synthetic jasmine perfumes today use one or both because they are inexpensive (Their fibre-substantive qualities also make them perfect candidates for laundry detergents and fabric conditionners). The hawthorn or aubépine note, rendered synthetically in perfumes for several decades, is produced via anisic aldehyde (p-methoxy benzaldehyde) and it has been sublimely woven into the gauzy cloth of Après L’Ondée by Guerlain (where it sings along with heliotropin). Additionally, the aldehyde vanillin is a constituent in many vanilla-scented perfumes. So nothing is as simplistic as one might assume!

Aldehydic fragrances include (click links to read corresponding articles/reviews): Chanel No.5 and No.22, Lanvin Arpège, Guerlain Liu and Véga, Worth Je Reviens, Millot Crèpe de Chine , Balecianga Le Dix, Revillon Detchema, Caron Fleurs de Rocaille (not Fleur, singular), Infini and Nocturnes, Myrurgia Joya, Jean-Charles Brosseau Ombre Rose , Molyneux Vivre, Lancome Climat, Givenchy L’Interdit, Piguet Baghari, Madame Rochas and Mystère by Rochas, Rive Gauche by Yves Saint Laurent , Paco Rabanne Calandre, Estée Lauder Estée, White Linen, Pure White Linen, Van Cleef & Arpels First, Nina by Nina Ricci (the old formula in the ribbed bottle), E.Coudray Musc et Freesia, Bill Blass Nude and Amazing, Hermès Amazone, D& Sicily, Divine L’Ame Soeur, Serge Lutens La Myrrhe, Frederic Malle Iris Poudre, Ferré by Ferré, Agent Provocateur Maitresse, Annick Goutal Folavril, Le Labo Aldehyde 44.
Hermès Calèche is poised between floral aldehydic and floral chypre in some taxonomies.

[1]Bernand Chant, British Society of Perfumers 1982
[2]Armigeat is perfumer Pierre Armigeant (1874-1955) who composed Floramye and Azurea for L.T.Piver

Painting Gueridon 1913 by Georges Braques, courtesy of allposters.com. Chanel makeup ad via Bellasugar.

Frequent Questions: The Difference between the various Christian Dior "Poison" fragrances

Christian Dior has a stable of fragrances all tagged Poison, encased in similarly designed packaging and bottles (but in different colors), often creating confusion to the buyer who wants to know how the various fragrances compare. This article aims to explain the differences and similarities between Poison, Tendre Poison, Hypnotic Poison, Pure Poison and Midnight Poison and their Elixir versions henceforth. Short descriptions of how they smell, perfumers, fragrance notes, color schemes on bottle and box packaging as well as comments on concentration & body products available, longevity and sillage are included.

The Poison series:

To begin in chronological order, first came Poison, the original, in 1985. It wouldn't be an overstatement to say that the original Poison was instrumental in the "loud" reputation that 1980s fragrances acquired. It is a powerhouse tuberose oriental with a berry-spicy-musky interlay, very characteristic of the time, quite excellently-made by Edouard Flechier and smelling great if used in moderation. Purple bottle in dark green box.
Notes for Poison original:
Top: orange blossom, honey, berries, pimento
Heart: cinnamon, coriander, tuberose, pepper, mace, plum, anise, ylang-ylang
Bottom: ambergris, labdanum, opoponax

Available in Eau de Toilette 30/50ml, Esprit de Parfum refillable flacon, deodorant spray, body lotion and shower gel. Some of the body products seem to be discontinued in certain markets.

Tendre Poison was the first "flanker" that came out 9 years later (1994), again composed by Edouard Flechier. It is a light green floral with freesia, a bit sharp and soapy in character. The base is pale woods, with a lightly powdery undertone that backons you closer. Although often referenced as a lighter version of the original Poison there is no comparison really. Tendre Poison is well-behaved, quite pretty and prim outwardly, a little unsmiling and cruel up close. Wears well and easily all year round and has good sillage and longevity. Light green bottle in green box.
Notes for Tendre Poison
Top: mandarin, galbanum
Heart: freesia, orange blossom, heliotrope
Bottom: sandalwood, vanilla

Available in Eau de Toilette 30/50ml, deodorant spray, body lotion and shower gel. Some of the body products seem to be discontinued in certan markets.

Hypnotic Poison came out in 1998, composed by Annick Menardo. The packaging reverted to something more daring, in crimson and a rubbery feel for the Eau de Parfum, so Hypnotic Poison is an almond gourmand oriental with a bitter edge at the start and a smooth vanilla base that contributes to a bewitching scent. Extremely popular (reports say it's a perennial bestseller in south Mediterranean countries, but also the US). Red bottle in dark red box.
Notes for Hypnotic Poison:
Top: bitter almond, caraway
Heart: jasmine sambac, jacaranda wood
Bottom: tree moss, vanilla, musk

Available in Eau de Toilette 30/50ml, deodorant spray, body lotion and shower gel.
There was an Eau de Parfum version previously available which seems to have been discontinued in favour of the Hypnotic Poison Elixir Eau de Parfum Intense.

Pure Poison coming out in 2004 was composed by Carlos Benaim, Olivier Polge and Dominique Ropion. Pure Poison is a radiant, expansive sharp floral with lots of white flowers (yet non indolic, meaning it's not in the least "dirty"), citrus essences and white musks/woods. The overall character is one of a clean, opalescent scent that is quite feminine in contemporary way. Pure Poison has an amazing sillage and is quite wearable year round. Pearl/opal white bottle in deep purple box.
Notes for Pure Poison:
Top: jasmine, sweet orange, Calabrian bergamot and Sicilian mandarin
Heart: orange blossom, gardenia
Bottom: sandalwood, ambergris

Available in Eau de Parfum 30/50ml, deodorant spray 100ml, body lotion and shower gel.

Midnight Poison is a modern "chypre" (in the vein of Narciso, Gucci by Gucci etc.) with subdued roses over a clean patchouli base, producing an abstract cool effect that is very modern. Composed by Olivier Cresp, Jacques Cavallier and Francois Demarchy, it is quite pleasant, if not very remarkable, with a dark green background that has a mysterious vibe aimed at the modern seductress.
Midnight-blue bottle in dark blue box.
Notes for Midnight Poison:
Top: mandarin orange, bergamot
Heart: rose
Bottom: patchouli, vanilla, amber

Available in Eau de Parfum 30/50ml, Extrait de Parfum, deodorant spray, body cream, body lotion and shower gel.

The Poison series Elixirs:

The various Dior Elixirs composed by Francois Demarchy came out with the aim to offer a more intense sensation blending the opulent base notes of the original Poison, along with individually selected flavours. The packaging is adorned with bulb atomisers on the bottle, boudoir-style. Each bottle replicates the colour scheme of the original fragrances they're named after. The formula is not silicone-based, but alcoholic, meaning it is sprayed like a regular Eau de Parfum.

Pure Poison Elixir was the first Elixir version for Poison and came out in 2006. Although the notes denote a quite different scent, the truth is there is no major difference with the previous Pure Poison, except for a sweeter, a tad powdery and warmer base that stays on the skin for an extremely long period of time.
Notes for Pure Poison Elixir:
Top: petitgrain, orange, green mandarin
Heart: orange blossom, jasmine sambac
Bottom: sandalwood, amber, almond, vanilla, cocoa absolute

Available in Eau de Parfum intense 30/50ml, body cream.

Hypnotic Poison Elixir came out in 2008. Based on the original Hypnotic Poison fragrance it includes a licorice-star anise combination. However it smells quite similar to the regular Hypnotic Poison, although the tenacity is even more phenomenal.

Available in Eau de Parfum intense 30/50ml, body cream.

Midnight Poison Elixir (2008) is based on the original Midnight Poison, enhanced with "intense, voluptuous, flavorful notes of caramel -fruity and toothsome, with an appetizing "toasted" fragrance - and the mellow, enveloping aromas of vanilla". It quite similar to the regular Midnight Poison apart from the sweeter caramel base which seems to kilter it off balance. Extremely tenacious as well.

Available in Eau de Parfum intense 30/50ml.

Special Valentine's Editions (2008) exist for Hypnotic Poison, Pure Poison and Midnight Poison in Eau de Toilette concentration in specially designed 40ml (1.38 fl.oz.) bottles.

Pics courtesy of Fragrantica.com

New Features Coming Up on Perfume Shrine

Perfume Shrine is pleased to announce the introduction of yet new features to accompany our very popular original ones: Frequent Questions and Myth Debunking. For these projects we aim to provide answers to questions that often arise due to confusion, misunderstandings, false claims by sales assistants or just good old inexperience (the best reason of them all because we have all been there!). Easily, clearly, yet not simplistically, we will try to offer useful guidelines for your shopping and appreciative purposes.
First installment coming up shortly!