Etro Gomma: fragrance review

Why is it that leather fragrances often produce the effect Frau Blücher's name does to horses in Young Frankenstein? Many otherwise accomodating perfume enthusiasts report some leather fragrances smelling pungent, sour or just outright harsh, admitting defeat and throwing the towel. But Etro, bless their joyful Italian hearts, have come up with the right answer for those cuirophobics: a friendly modern leather to eclipse fears and ignite desires instead.

Unlike "Blucher" which (does not) mean glue in German, "Gomma" means rubber and one would expect the "hot tires accord" and elastic that is purported to be at the heart of Bulgari Black (I say "purported" because the rubberiness of Black is actually quite vanillic and smooth to me, rather than acrid as one would imagine). There is a dose of it at the top in Gomma, but nothing to frighten the horses, if you will allow the pun.
Technically a "woody chypre", but more acurately an ambery leather, Gomma is among Etro's most successful creations, if only because it's distinctive (in the Knize Ten mould) and at the same time user-friendly. Composed by legendary perfumer Edouard Fléchier, it would be, wouldn't it? Not only does it layer well under simple soliflores, if you're after that sort of thing (try it with an iris or a carnation, or even better a lush jasmine to compliment its own floralcy), but it lends itself to easy wearing throughout the day and lasts rather well on my skin and on clothes, despite it being only an Eau de Cologne concentration. I can only imagine just how satisfying an Eau de Parfum version would be.

The secret of Gomma's success? A sheer pungent leather base that is more like birch tar (Cuir de Russie, Tabac Blond) than pike-harsh green quinolines (Bandit) and most reminiscent of Knize Ten (quite close in fact, although the Knize is brassier, fruitier, with lots of castoreum). But the theme is rendered via a diaphanous treatment with a slightly herbal-soapy tonality and a pleasurable sweet accent of indefineable white flowers. It's therefore the perfect leather fragrance for summer wearing or for the office without betraying the insouciant character that a cuir fragrance brings to its wearer: You won't stand out like a sore thumb, but you will leave others wondering what is that indvidual (and delicious) smell.
Staying power is average on the whole especially taking in mind the concentration, while warm weather seems to extend the sillage/trail left behind. And as to who can wear it? "I don't know if it's a masculine, a feminine or a unisex scent." the Non Blonde proclaims. I concur. Even inanimate things take on a new 5th dimension in it!

Notes for Etro Gomma:
citrus, artemisia, spices, leather, jasmine, amber.

Etro has revamped their packaging recently, making all caps silver instead of gold and rendering the boxes a graphic black and white instead of the old paisley (which I prefered). You can see both versions in the pics.
A 3.4 oz/100ml bottle retails for $165, on Amazon it's 143$ but sometimes it can be found discounted.

Related reading on Perfume Shrine: Leather series (everything about leather in perfumery & leather scents reviews)

Photo of old-style Etro Gomma bottle by Elena Vosnaki (click the pic to enlarge). Newer packaging via punmiris.com

Penhaligon's Amaranthine: fragrance review

I had included Amaranthine by Penhaligon's in my Top 10 Scents that Sing Spring for 2010 a while ago with the following words: "Its name denotes the eternally beautiful and unfading. The perfume, just like the name (from the Greek αμάραντος), evokes a deep purple red, a "corrupted" floral oriental with plenty of "dirty" aspects combining spiced (clovey) ylang-ylang and jasmine on a milky sandalwood and musky base. Fetish-phobics should better shy away, but those worth their salt in immersing themselves head-long into intimate scents (ooops!) will rejoice that the meadows and the flowers do not only smell of the sterile florist's or Alpine tops. As shocking ~coming from such an upper-stiff-lip British brand~ as discovering that our favourite nanny, Julie Andrews, has a va jay jay ~and a wee hole~ after all!"

So why am I back reviewing this? Probably because I have been pondering these past few weeks on how it came as an utter shock into the Miss Charm school of the Penhaligon's line-up, smiling like characters out of a Jane Austen novel with no success in hiding this Edna Pontellier amongst them! Like other outspoken feminine florals, like Passion or Grand Amour by Annick Goutal, DelRae's Amoureuse and Vero Profumo Rubj, this is a case of not being afraid to shout off the rooftops its deliciously carnal intent. An intent that is rendered like it's the most natural thing in the world!
Penhaligon’s website says “Amaranthine [part of the new Anthology series] is a corrupted floral oriental for those private moments when everything is anticipation” and by that line alone one would surmiss they're up to no good: Which they're not, in the best possible sense. Yet it was March at Perfume Posse who put the apocalyptical size of the shock value in proper terms: "Immediately and humorously nicknamed Amaranthigh by perfumistas, Amaranthine was a shot across the bow in terms of our expectations from staid Penhaligon’s. Bertrand Duchaufour’s bizarre, refulgent twist on a boudoir scent would have been about the last thing I expected from the house, and I wasn’t alone there".

Like a modern time Léonce, a callous patriach who is unshakable in his views, I was eternally stuck on how Penhaligon's as a fragrance house amounted to instant Victoriana with doilles put under the TV-set and little floral mats on the arm-rests of the couches, in a house that smelled of crushed lavender and butter-foiled scones for tea, always a little stale. Pretty as a picture and nostalgic possibly, but would I live there? No if I had any hopes of saving my jaw muscles from overexertion from the smile that would plague my face translating its ecumenical acceptance and patience.
I had only managed to be interested in Malabah, Hammam Bouquet and Castile from the house's classics previously and in Lily & Spice from the newer range; my itinerary (stopping at the outskirts of Coventry and never intending to go all the way up to Leeds) was cut short: The train was abtruptly stopped at junction "Eyes Glazing Over Victorian Posy" with a disastrous detour via "Bluebell" which had nothing to do with blue and plenty to do with Bells of Hell going ting-a-ling-a-ling.

Perfumer Bertrand Duchaufour has managed to shake this ~in hindsight~ passé notion and thrust it out of the window of that very same train. (Actually he also did a complete redecoration of that English cottage above, ushering a little French deco amidst all that plaid and floral. One can have too much of a picturtesque thing, after all). Amaranthine is travelling from station to station between fruity-ladden vines that sprout banana-bubblegum tones of quality jasmine (and lush ylang ylang) and a gently green but spicy blend of cardamom and coriander recalling not yet fully fermented tea aromatized the Middle Eastern way. And when it stops, it takes you to someplace where proper good buttery English toffee is still made (creamy sandalwood, warm musk, milky caramel tones), so not everything British is lost. Two beauties, one English, one French, are having a tryst. Simply spectacular!

Notes for Penhaligon's Amaranthine: green tea, freesia, banana leaf, coriander, cardamom, rose, carnation, clove, orange blossom, ylang ylang, Egyptian jasmine, musk, vanilla, sandalwood, condensed milk, tonka bean.

Availability and Limited editions on this link.

A special thanks to Joe for introducing me to this gem.

Photo of a nude Brigitte Bardot and an equally nude Jane Birkin via The Moly Doily blog. Claudya photo by Bettina Rheims from the Female Troubles Series

Coty Imprevu: fragrance review

One of the major pitfalls that awaits a perfume enthusiast is for them to disregard valued, glamorous specimens of the past due to the merely trendy attire of the brand hosting them in the present. Coty and their Imprévu is a case in point! Miles away from the current celebuttante fruit-salads they serve now, Imprévu is a meaty course that still retains a degree of refinement; it's fine veal served with silver tableware. The delicious name, meaning "unforeseen", predisposes for a surprising impression and indeed this feminine leathery woody chypre from 1965 is unprecedented, unique and surprising in more than one way. They had it right when they advertised: "Beyond all expectations"!

The timing in which Imprévu was introduced is crucial: On the one hand the Coty house had passed through the Symplegades of both the Great Depression and World War II and emerged still resilient, if diminished in radiance. François Coty's divorced wife had a brother-in-law, Philippe Cotnareanu, who was immersed in the business. Cotnareanu changed his name to Philip Cortney and under that pseudonym took rein of the colossal portfolio. Coty and Coty International were eventually sold to Chas. Pfizer & Co. for about $26 million in 1963, thus becoming divisions in the pharmaceuticals company's consumer products group. The 1965 launch was Coty's new perfume in 25 years! Success was almost immediate: By the end of 1968 Imprévu became the leading Coty fragrance.
On the other hand, Imprévu, composed by an unsung perfumer, also came at an opportune time in the global perfume zeitgeist: A time when greener and aldehydic scents were very popular: Yves St. Laurent had launched his glorious Y in 1964, while Guy Laroche issued the green tropical Fidji in 1966. The older favourites, Chanel No.5 and Miss Dior, were still best-sellers. But the not so griffe market presented considerable competition as well: Avon was going strong with Topaze, and Fabergé with the antithetical earthy Woodhue. Imprévu was perfect for the moment!
It's an irony and a testament to the changing tastes in fashion however that rather soon the strike of gold was at an end: Emeraude, L'Origan and L'Aimant became the long-standing classics in the Coty portfolio after the 1980s, condemning Imprévu in the disgrace of being practically given away at drugstores who sold it at seriously discounted prices. The above nevertheless is no reflection on the fragrance's value whatsoever.

Imprévu (pronounced ahm-pre-VHU) by Coty is decidedly adult, like a long sip of extra dry martini when you know you really shouldn't or the deliberate "poisonous" smear of lipstick on a man's colar. It explores several themes of yore and does so with unrefuted elegance: From the aldehydic boosting of the crisp citrus (bergamot, bitter orange) opening, reminiscent of Coty's own Chypre (the latter is fresher and somewhat more piquant overall), to the mildly leathery heart, all the way down to the foresty conifers that hide beneath the abstract flowers. Like some classic fragrances in the cuir family (notably Tabac Blond by Caron) the tannic facet of leather is boosted and contrasted by the merest touch of cloves, registered to the mind as carnation. Overall fresh in that mossy way that classic chypres are fresh rather than cloying, the scent is very well-mannered despite the earthy oakmoss inclusion. What stays on the skin poised for long when the other elements have dissipated is the creamy woodiness of that drydown phase of Bois des Îles by Chanel.

Neither too woody nor leathery, nor too chypre, but striking a perfect balance between all those elements, Imprévu comes as the unexpected state of grace when you simply don't know what to choose and just need something that is truly unique and smells good at the same time. Even though marketed as a feminine, men who are adventurous wouldn't have trouble getting away with it.

Although the usual bottle in which it is presented is the one depicted here and in the ads (which show the extrait de parfum version), other styles were also circulating, notably one with a simple gold-toned cap and a simple glass flacon with gold-tone lettering or another one with a simple plastic blue cover (especially for the versions circulating in Europe)
Imprévu by Coty has been discontinued for a long time now, with no plans by the company to bring it back as per our latest communication. Occasional sighthings are made on Ebay at elevated prices.



Photos from Ebay

Dior Escale aux Marquises: new fragrance

This coming June, Christian Dior adds a third cologne to his Escale cruise collection (fragrance de croisière ) with Escale aux Marquises (pronounced Eh-SKULL o Mar-KEEZ), which joins Escale à Portofino and Escale à Pondichéry.
Like the last two, this one is also composed by head perfumery at Dior right now, François Demachy. The composition is worked in Eau de Cologne style aiming to a fresh, feminine spirit. The heart revolves around the exotic and much loved tiaré blossom, garlanded with spicy and fresh notes evoking the Indian Ocean.


The îles Marquises of course are part of the French Polynesia which is in the South Pacific, so I am a bit lost on why the Indian Ocean has anything to do with the concept, but I guess it's a well-known scent reference, since so many essences come from the subcontinent. But you know how perfume brands work...(see Terracotta Sous le Vent)

Dior's Escale aux Marquises features notes of blood orange, pink pepper, cardamom, pepper, cinnamon, ginger, clove, nutmeg, coriander, elemi resin, benzoin, Amalfi lemon and tiaré blossom.
Escale aux Marquises will launch on June 2nd 2010 in three sizes: 75ml (68,26€), 125ml (97,37€), and 200ml (136,52€), available at major department stores.

The Mommy Poll

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