"The perfume Chergui, which has been available exclusively from the Shiseido Palais Royal Salons in Paris since 2001, will be launched more generally in 2009 on both the French and the international markets. After Ambre Sultan and Fleurs d’Oranger, Chergui is the third exclusive scent to join the prestigious ‘Collection des Parfums Serge Lutens’. 1.7 oz., 79 euros".
Available wherever the Lutens export range is sold.
The old trusty standby Féminité du Bois, overseen by Serge Lutens and composed by Chris Sheldrake for Shiseido in 1992, was getting truly scarce on counters stateside (where it was pulled from in 2002)especially in the Eau de Parfum concentration (there is also an Eau Timide). Its mysterious, fruity-incense-y cedarwood laced with spice was the basis on which the Bois series of the Salons de Palais Royal by Shiseido began, offering four variations on the theme: Bois de Violette, Bois et fruits, Bois et musc and Bois oriental. Its scarcity had been lamented by many.
Féminité du Bois now joins the export line in the same oblong bottles of 50ml/1.7oz and will be available at the places that regularly stock the Lutens line at corresponding prices. This is not strange as the American market is second to France in consuming Lutens products (Italy is following suit).
Seeing as Féminité du Bois is still available in Europe in its curvaceous purple-brown bottle, it is left to be settled whether that edition will be pulled making the old bottles rare collectibles or whether the export oblong bottles are mainly destined for the American market. Usually such relaunches mean either reformulation or a licencing disrupture with the previous distributor. We will see soon enough.
The new bottle version is available at Senteurs d'Ailleurs for 80 euros.
Info/pics via Osmoz and Senteurs d'Ailleurs.
Monday, January 5, 2009
Tuesday, December 30, 2008
Manoumalia by Les Nez: fragrance review
Kia ora tātou!, which means "greetings" in New Caledonian, should be the line that introduces the first fragrance of 2009. As reported earlier, Manoumalia is the newest fragrance from small niche brand Les Nez (Parfums d'auteurs) from Klingnau, Switzerland, officially out in January, of which I was fortunate to get a pre-sniff.
Sandrine Videault, the perfumer of Manoumalia, herself a New Caledonian, was inspired by Wallis [1] in November 2007 in almost an ethnographical exploration to appreciate the essences that would comprise the theme based on the olfactory culture of this exotic locale. Following a documentary of RFO televized in New Caledonia, Malia, a native woman, offered to show Sandrine her savoir-faire of perfumes, in which Tuitui [2] , the par-excellence-Wallesian essence is the protagonist. Her name, Malia, became part of the fragrance's name.
Manou on the other hand is a tad more complicated: When visiting Ouvéa, an island of the Kanak tribe, it is expected to present a traditional gift on visiting a local family or when meeting the tribe leader: the "manou" (pronounced man-oo) and some tobacco. "Manou" is a piece of material used as a wrap around the hips, evoking other exotic uses of woven cloth in different cultures around the world: the colourful gold-threaded saris of India, the alluring sarongs of Java, or the pin-up immortalised pāreu (or pareos) of Tahiti.
What's intriguing me greatly however is a fleeting memory of the "Code of Manou" from my early university days while assisting a Sanskrit professor write up a treatise on etymological parallels to ancient Greek. Part of the earliest Vedic writing (12th century BC), the "Code of Manou" is according to Alexander del Mar ~a 19th century coin historian, all but forgotten by historians, if not by history itself~ who, intent on claiming that ancient Indian scriptures reference coinage in the Indus valley before anyplace else, etymologically tied Manou with lawgivers Mene of Egypt and Minos of Crete. Although the claim is weakened by lack of concrete archeological evidence, the mention of Dharana, a coinage, coming from the verb Dhri (=to hold) instigated inadverted fascination in me: The ancient Greek coin of δραχμή/drachma would therefore be coming from the Indian root Drax (=handful)!
Should we then approach Manoumalia as the gift to Malia or the gift by Malia? Or perhaps the wrap of Malia, in which the sum of her aromatic journeys has been contained? Or yet still a handful of Malia's spiritual substance in the form of a fragrance to be used on one's person? It is always enjoyable to ponder on the onomastics of a perfume, allowing me to effortlessly slip into reverie.
The tradition of the Wallisians is richly steeped into the preparation of fragrant potions. Bracelets and necklaces (such as leis) are made through weaving intoxicating blossoms; spices such as the dusty yellow of curcuma is used to paint the body; sandalwood dust is made into a thick paste for treating and colouring the hair. Tutui [2] is comparable to importance to what tiare is to Tahitians. To Wallisians being illeterate in the language of scent is akin to being unknowledgable in the wiles of attraction and almost close to being a social pariah! Intepreting this culture into a single fragrance seems impossible and in fact would not be wise. Therefore Manoumalia focused in bringing some aspects of it into a modernised, westernised fragrance that can be appreciated by perfume lovers of a certain niche.
The Manoumalia heart is sketched around Fragrea Berteriana [3], a bushy shrub growing to tree-like proportions with intoxicatingly scented flowers which are traditionally strung into leis. The Polynesians are long known to make a perfume by macerating the flowers into coconut oil. The Hawaiian name for fragrea, pua kenikeni, translates roughly to "ten cents flower" or "coin flower", thus named because of the cost per flower at one time. (You can even buy your own seeds and grow it from scratch!)
One of the last students of Edmond Roudnitska, Sandrine Videault is best known for her historical fragrances (such as her Kyphi recreation for the Cairo museum in 2002) and olfactive shows. Previous fragrances composed by her include Ambre Indien by Esteban and La Rose de Carole Bouquet for Truffault, Paris.
Mentioning Roudnitska in the same breath as a floral fragrance, one would expect an affinity for green touches allied to subtle chypré qualities. And yet I only have to smell the drydown of Manoumalia to draw different conclusions. The sparseness of formula seems to be there because byzantine plots have been eschewed in favour of a streamlined approach. But the radiance of its huge floral heart along with a butyric touch (that recalls chamomille to me) conspire to evoke some aspects of Fracas. The strange mixture of powder, burnt wood and rubber which seems to be at the core of the latter reverberates through this floral as well. I am hypothesizing that there might be inclusion of aldehyde C18 (technically gamma-nonalactone) for its unctuous, coconutty, milky, soft tropical quality too. The Fauvist approach of Cellier, who also favoured streamlined compositions, is not as jarringly evident in Sandrine's work here, nevertheless. The composition is softer, warmer, making it less monumental but more approachable by many.
Although tiare has been a darling among teen celebritoids in such permutations as Monyette, Paris and Coquette Tropique (by the same brand), Manoumalia rises above them to the level of Intense Tiare by Montale, a fragrance richly redolent of monoï (tiare petals macerating in coconut oil) ~although I am not suggesting they smell the same. The almost fruity jasmine-y intensity of ylang-ylang never fails to make my mind fly to warm tropical paradises in the midst of winter cold, but it is the earthy unrooted vetiver that provides a grounding touch like immersing my hands into a bag of uprooted bulbs. (Vetiver is much more apparent when the fragrance is sprayed on skin than on a mouillette, please note).
A subtle vanillic-woody underpinning undulates out of the richness of the floral-woody chord of Manoumalia remaining for a while on the skin as a discreet memento of a journey to the South Pacific.
Notes for Les Nez Manoumalia :
Fagrea[3], vetiver, tiare, sandalwood dust, ylang ylang, amber accord.
Manoumalia will be available in a 50ml bottle directly through the Les Nez site starting sometime in January, as well as at Luckyscent, Aus Liebe Zum Duft, and Cale.it
[1]Wallis and Futuna is a Polynesian French island territory (but not belonging to, or even contiguous with, French Polynesia) in the South Pacific between Fiji and Samoa.
[2]Tuitui is a plant of the family Euphorbiaceae, commonly known as Candlenut/Varnish Tree (Lichtnussbaum in German) with white flowers in a shape like a cross between orange blossom and jasmine which is used mainly for the nuts and the oil distilled from them.
[3]Fagraea is a plant endimic to the South Seas islands, belonging to the family Loganiaceae, one species of which is the famous fagraea berteriana (pua kenikeni/Perfume Flower Tree) abundant in Maui.
In the interests of disclosure, I got sent a free sample of Manoumalia through the Les Nez give-away of samples during the last forthnight of December.
Pics copyrighted by Les Nez, used by permission
Sandrine Videault, the perfumer of Manoumalia, herself a New Caledonian, was inspired by Wallis [1] in November 2007 in almost an ethnographical exploration to appreciate the essences that would comprise the theme based on the olfactory culture of this exotic locale. Following a documentary of RFO televized in New Caledonia, Malia, a native woman, offered to show Sandrine her savoir-faire of perfumes, in which Tuitui [2] , the par-excellence-Wallesian essence is the protagonist. Her name, Malia, became part of the fragrance's name.
Manou on the other hand is a tad more complicated: When visiting Ouvéa, an island of the Kanak tribe, it is expected to present a traditional gift on visiting a local family or when meeting the tribe leader: the "manou" (pronounced man-oo) and some tobacco. "Manou" is a piece of material used as a wrap around the hips, evoking other exotic uses of woven cloth in different cultures around the world: the colourful gold-threaded saris of India, the alluring sarongs of Java, or the pin-up immortalised pāreu (or pareos) of Tahiti.
What's intriguing me greatly however is a fleeting memory of the "Code of Manou" from my early university days while assisting a Sanskrit professor write up a treatise on etymological parallels to ancient Greek. Part of the earliest Vedic writing (12th century BC), the "Code of Manou" is according to Alexander del Mar ~a 19th century coin historian, all but forgotten by historians, if not by history itself~ who, intent on claiming that ancient Indian scriptures reference coinage in the Indus valley before anyplace else, etymologically tied Manou with lawgivers Mene of Egypt and Minos of Crete. Although the claim is weakened by lack of concrete archeological evidence, the mention of Dharana, a coinage, coming from the verb Dhri (=to hold) instigated inadverted fascination in me: The ancient Greek coin of δραχμή/drachma would therefore be coming from the Indian root Drax (=handful)!
Should we then approach Manoumalia as the gift to Malia or the gift by Malia? Or perhaps the wrap of Malia, in which the sum of her aromatic journeys has been contained? Or yet still a handful of Malia's spiritual substance in the form of a fragrance to be used on one's person? It is always enjoyable to ponder on the onomastics of a perfume, allowing me to effortlessly slip into reverie.
The tradition of the Wallisians is richly steeped into the preparation of fragrant potions. Bracelets and necklaces (such as leis) are made through weaving intoxicating blossoms; spices such as the dusty yellow of curcuma is used to paint the body; sandalwood dust is made into a thick paste for treating and colouring the hair. Tutui [2] is comparable to importance to what tiare is to Tahitians. To Wallisians being illeterate in the language of scent is akin to being unknowledgable in the wiles of attraction and almost close to being a social pariah! Intepreting this culture into a single fragrance seems impossible and in fact would not be wise. Therefore Manoumalia focused in bringing some aspects of it into a modernised, westernised fragrance that can be appreciated by perfume lovers of a certain niche.
The Manoumalia heart is sketched around Fragrea Berteriana [3], a bushy shrub growing to tree-like proportions with intoxicatingly scented flowers which are traditionally strung into leis. The Polynesians are long known to make a perfume by macerating the flowers into coconut oil. The Hawaiian name for fragrea, pua kenikeni, translates roughly to "ten cents flower" or "coin flower", thus named because of the cost per flower at one time. (You can even buy your own seeds and grow it from scratch!)
One of the last students of Edmond Roudnitska, Sandrine Videault is best known for her historical fragrances (such as her Kyphi recreation for the Cairo museum in 2002) and olfactive shows. Previous fragrances composed by her include Ambre Indien by Esteban and La Rose de Carole Bouquet for Truffault, Paris.
Mentioning Roudnitska in the same breath as a floral fragrance, one would expect an affinity for green touches allied to subtle chypré qualities. And yet I only have to smell the drydown of Manoumalia to draw different conclusions. The sparseness of formula seems to be there because byzantine plots have been eschewed in favour of a streamlined approach. But the radiance of its huge floral heart along with a butyric touch (that recalls chamomille to me) conspire to evoke some aspects of Fracas. The strange mixture of powder, burnt wood and rubber which seems to be at the core of the latter reverberates through this floral as well. I am hypothesizing that there might be inclusion of aldehyde C18 (technically gamma-nonalactone) for its unctuous, coconutty, milky, soft tropical quality too. The Fauvist approach of Cellier, who also favoured streamlined compositions, is not as jarringly evident in Sandrine's work here, nevertheless. The composition is softer, warmer, making it less monumental but more approachable by many.
Although tiare has been a darling among teen celebritoids in such permutations as Monyette, Paris and Coquette Tropique (by the same brand), Manoumalia rises above them to the level of Intense Tiare by Montale, a fragrance richly redolent of monoï (tiare petals macerating in coconut oil) ~although I am not suggesting they smell the same. The almost fruity jasmine-y intensity of ylang-ylang never fails to make my mind fly to warm tropical paradises in the midst of winter cold, but it is the earthy unrooted vetiver that provides a grounding touch like immersing my hands into a bag of uprooted bulbs. (Vetiver is much more apparent when the fragrance is sprayed on skin than on a mouillette, please note).
A subtle vanillic-woody underpinning undulates out of the richness of the floral-woody chord of Manoumalia remaining for a while on the skin as a discreet memento of a journey to the South Pacific.
Notes for Les Nez Manoumalia :
Fagrea[3], vetiver, tiare, sandalwood dust, ylang ylang, amber accord.
Manoumalia will be available in a 50ml bottle directly through the Les Nez site starting sometime in January, as well as at Luckyscent, Aus Liebe Zum Duft, and Cale.it
[1]Wallis and Futuna is a Polynesian French island territory (but not belonging to, or even contiguous with, French Polynesia) in the South Pacific between Fiji and Samoa.
[2]Tuitui is a plant of the family Euphorbiaceae, commonly known as Candlenut/Varnish Tree (Lichtnussbaum in German) with white flowers in a shape like a cross between orange blossom and jasmine which is used mainly for the nuts and the oil distilled from them.
[3]Fagraea is a plant endimic to the South Seas islands, belonging to the family Loganiaceae, one species of which is the famous fagraea berteriana (pua kenikeni/Perfume Flower Tree) abundant in Maui.
In the interests of disclosure, I got sent a free sample of Manoumalia through the Les Nez give-away of samples during the last forthnight of December.
Pics copyrighted by Les Nez, used by permission
Monday, December 29, 2008
A 2008 Retrospective
The end of the year is always a time of contemplation: summing up what happened, what left its indelible mark and what could have gone better. This is true in all things and more so when one is compiling a list for publishing purposes such as happens here. Theoretically, this recap should serve as a history lesson in not repeating the same mistakes and helping map out a better and more fruitful new year. Arguably, as per Hegel, "we have never learned anything from history, or acted on principles deducted from it " [1] however, which is so painfully true for the fragrance world and the luxury section in general. But let's not dampen our spirits just yet! Perhaps as evidenced before someone is paying attention, so here's to a better 2009.
The Perfume Shrine, along with a group of esteemed independent perfume bloggers participating, decided to publish some musings on 2008 and its fragrant twists and turns. So here are mine.
Something is rotten at the kingdom of Fragland?
To take things at the top, the main problem is there are too many fragrance launches. I mean, they're like rice grains as a reward on a chess board in some ancient tale or microbes on a petri-dish: one is not having an embarassement of riches anymore, but an embrassement full-stop. I know I am not the only one who has become jaded after all this time watching one after another announce the new miraculous composition that will incidentally both cure AIDS and end world hunger while making us smell fabulous. It's hard to get surprised any more, I guess. Still, the latest Serge Lutens ~which my friend Denyse was first to spread the news of~, the upcoming Hermessence and the newest Annick Goutal have managed to create some palpitations to my -otherwise- lukewarm heart. I'd hate to be disappointed and it's rather late to plead with the companies and the perfumers to please not mess with my heartstrings (they're all coming out in January, so we'll find out soon enough), so I am merely extending my wishes for something if not magnificent and earth-shattering, at least interesting enough.
It's worthwhile to note that amidst what is generally referenced as the worst recession since 1989, the hyper-luxe companies, such as By Killian, state that they have not noticed a decline in their turnover. Sibyllic...
Everyone is an Expert
When "Perfumes the Guide" erupted at the end of last March like a Godzilla-sized "menace" (?) on the front of thirsty lands (the perfume-discussing ones, I mean), suddenly a whole stampede of people nodding their heads energetically started quoting bits and pieces in order to justify their personal preferences; while another group of people were actively voicing their opposition questioning the validity of those opinions in that book in not so polite terms. The phenomenon left us with something of the weird mix of mirth, sarcasm and pained empathy. (Surely the authors were entitled to their opinions, weren't they? I thought they were).
Never before has such a small world taken itself at such breadth of importance! It was like watching Tim Burton's "Mars Attacks" with lots of popcorn. It was almost certain the authors would intellectually appreciate the crassness of Gaultier's Ma Dame. So what? You don't have to wear it! I doubt they're advocating that you should! They're simply evaluating its lack of pretence (good thing).
Yet suddenly the ratio of traditional press articles quadrupled with some quite original and serious and some hilarious results! Suddenly fragrance writing became big business. And although one could trace this last bit all the way back to The New York Times appointing Chandler Burr a scent critic a couple of years ago, this year's evolution has shown that starting one's own site or writing a piece for a newspaper leaves all the holes of one's semi-knowledge free for filling with fresh air. I am personally enjoying the wide selection ~when before did news circulate so quickly, as to make the new exclusive, moderately-priced Comme des Garcons sell out of stores carrying it in one day?~ that this development has given us, but I am urging you to judge with your best analytical and rational criterion while reading. (Obviously everyone has their own opinion, but not every journalist knows some facts).
Intriguing Trends I Noticed
Speaking of wishful thinking for 2009, I noticed that already 2008 brought a handful of things that raised my antennae to the direction of Interestville. Namely, the new direction for woody fragrances for women, the widening of selection of florals for men, and the ressurgence of melon notes through non-Calone [2]-using ways. A handful of genuinely intriguing trends emerged.
Woody fragrances are nothing new, but it seems that they have caught the eye of the makers of feminine fragrances: Sensuous by Estée Lauder, Magnifique for Lancome and Secret Obsession by Calvin Klein. From the predictability of the first to the hypersweet distortion-of-facts of the second and to the spicy austerity of the third (which I prefer out of the three, if pressed), I was pleased to witness a new trend coming, after what seemed like a tsunami of fruity florals and an oversimplification of modern chypres. May they continue (but with better compositions please)!
Floral touches for men took over where the pioneer marketing of Dior Homme had left: the metrosexual of 2008 is not afraid to wear his
Melon and aquatic notes have been anathema for a whole (young) generation who grew up lisping "niche" and shopping at Aedes and Luckyscent with all the gusto of a card-holding dot.com progeny. Well, there's nothing like an old trend coming over for revenge and it seems like three 2008 releases are having a laugh at ou expense, admonishing us to shed our preconceptions and stop being annoyingly snobbish: Jean Claude Ellena did it first with Un Jardin Après la Mousson for Hermès and his daughter Céline followed with Sublime Balkiss for The Different Company, while Bertrand Duchaufour is continuing the laughter behind our backs with the river-like Fleur de Liane for L'artisan Parfumeur.
And then, there was Dans Tes Bras for F.Malle. Interesting to be sure.
My Coups de Foudre!
Then again there were some straight-arrow shoots who came up with things I loved immediately: a couple have even won pride of place in my ever-overspilling bottle collection! I feel for the honeyed apricots soaked in spices of El Attarine as soon as I smelled a sample. I came to love the somber, cool and warm antithesis of Serge Noire. Serge Lutens has largely redeemed himself in my eyes for the rather unoriginal latest releases of previous years. He has earned a grace period.
Chanel has also come up with a true rose-cut-like gem (Sycomore in Les Exclusifs line), a graceful if a little too pretty for its own good twin-set of a scent (Beige in Les Exclusifs) and a genuinely modern interpretation of an iconic milestone (No.5 Eau Premiere). Well done!
Suprisingly, Guerlain has produced only one modern fragrance this year that I liked in a year that was scattered with vintage acquisitions for me: Cruel Gardenia. But don't be fooled by the name, because it smells neither cruel nor gardenia-like (and I doubt they intended it to be either!). Still, this soapy prettiness has crept up on me. Don't get me started on Les Elixirs Charnels/ Carnal Elixirs though. Just don't!
Personal Growth
This year has been fulfilling on a personal level as related to my work here on Perfume Shrine and to my capacities as a fragrance writer and consultant. I have learned a lot of new things (for a constant student like myself, I have still lots of ground to cover though!), have expanded my horizons conversing with professionals who have taken an active interest in Perfume Shrine and am ready to relay my adventures with people who have a genuine passion for the art of perfumery. On top of that, in what started as a panicked attempt to salvage whatever I could out of a fragrance world that is constantly changing and rationing perfumery ingredients, thus creating a shortage in beauty, I finally managed to obtain some rare vintage collectibles which have graced my collection and have touched my historian's soul: Pour Troubler, Djedi, Fleur de Feu, Atuana, Ode, Liu (all by Guerlain, click to read reviews), Dior-Dior, Shiseido Nombre Noir, Lanvin Scandal...I am deeply thankful for the journey they have taken me on.
Last but not least, I have cemented a true rapport with my loyal readers, my guest writers and my perfume community friends and for that I am truly honoured.
Don't forget to check out what other bloggers have to say when recapping 2008 in their own words:
1000 fragrances
Ars Aromatica,
A Rose Beyond the Thames
Bittergrace Notes,
Grain de Musc,
I Smell therefore I Am,
Legerdenez,
Notes from the Ledge,
Olfactarama,
Savvy Thinker,
Smelly Blog (and her "best of" list)
The Non Blonde
and Tuilleries.
[1]approximate quote, Hegel referred to goverments.
[2]Calone is the sregistered name of a ynthetic aroma-material that dominated the 90s fragrances with its aquatic green melon note.
Saturday, December 27, 2008
Public Service Announcement: Serge Lutens exclusive Santal de Mysore now in the US
Bergdorf Goodman, as well as Aedes, are now stocking the Paris exclusive Santal de Mysore by Serge Lutens and Christopher Seldrake for $200.00 a pop: the fragrance comes in the oblong 50ml/1.7oz bottles that normally carry the export line (and not the Parisian "bell" jars as depicted here) and it is the season's "gift" of an exclusive having a limited distribution on US soil
Of course dollar for dollar, the price is much more advantageous if you get it in Paris (110 euros for 75ml) and you get to sip a demi-tasse at Café Flore in the process, but I thought reporting it would send a certain frisson of excitement through Lutens' fan base anyway!
Notes for Santal de Mysore include: cumin, hot spices, styrax, balsam, Siam benzoin and sandalwood.
Personally I rather think that the meeker, creamier Santal Blanc is the better sandalwood in the Lutens line and sandalwood as a note is problematic right now anyway, because of the infamous shortage due to it being an endangered species and the subsequent restriction on harvesting.
And it would have been assuredly more interesting if they released the painfully beautiful Tubéreuse Criminelle, the naughtily spicy, densely golden fruity El Attarine or the gloriously animalistic Musc Kublai Khan that evokes intimate pleasures. But there's always next time...
Related reading on Perfume Shrine: news on the latest Serge Lutens: Nuit de Cellophane and Lutens scents reviews.
Pic through Les Salons du Palais Royal Shiseido.
Thanks to Polk/POL for the heads up!
Of course dollar for dollar, the price is much more advantageous if you get it in Paris (110 euros for 75ml) and you get to sip a demi-tasse at Café Flore in the process, but I thought reporting it would send a certain frisson of excitement through Lutens' fan base anyway!
Notes for Santal de Mysore include: cumin, hot spices, styrax, balsam, Siam benzoin and sandalwood.
Personally I rather think that the meeker, creamier Santal Blanc is the better sandalwood in the Lutens line and sandalwood as a note is problematic right now anyway, because of the infamous shortage due to it being an endangered species and the subsequent restriction on harvesting.
And it would have been assuredly more interesting if they released the painfully beautiful Tubéreuse Criminelle, the naughtily spicy, densely golden fruity El Attarine or the gloriously animalistic Musc Kublai Khan that evokes intimate pleasures. But there's always next time...
Related reading on Perfume Shrine: news on the latest Serge Lutens: Nuit de Cellophane and Lutens scents reviews.
Pic through Les Salons du Palais Royal Shiseido.
Thanks to Polk/POL for the heads up!
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