The winner of the draw...

...for the Conaffetto sample is *Jen. Congrats and please email me with your particulars using the email contact on Profile or About page, so I can get this out to you soon.

Thanks to everyone for the participation and till the next one!

Sunny Fragrances to Beat the Winter Blues

There are some occasions in the lagging days of winter, eternally stuck someplace between middle & end of February, when the snow keeps piling up at the front windows and the birds fly down-spin over the yard, which can exasperate even the bravest of brave souls. Although my own native winters are mild & sunny, with only the occasional snowfall, white flakes not sturdy enough to pile up and withstand the coming out of the sun the next day, every time I have been away from home into a northern European country or in the windy winters of Down Under beside the lapping of the cold ocean, I got a taste for what it must feel like to always be cold, always rubbing one's nose when outside to stop it from getting numb.

The scented world around seems sleeping, with the indoor smells gaining momentum, but perfume can provide an intentional, on demand change of one's landscape: How exquisite a pearly aldehydic floral seems on an ice-cold day and how bright & dreamy does a floriental, full of the sunny rays that warmed the petals of its tropical flowers...

My picks for instilling a sunny disposition and banish those winter blahs comprise a list of perfumes which are noted for their optimism, sheer joie de vivre, indulgent nature and easy wearing; in two words, uncomplicated happiness! Fragrances to remind you of the coming of spring and to put a spring in your (still mutton-wearing) step! After all, in Turkish tradition the end of February marks the end of winter's cemre: Cemre are 3 fireballs coming from heavens to warm the earth for the coming of spring; the first appears on February 19-20, the second between February 26-27 and the third falls to ground on 5-6 March...Spring is just round the corner!
And if you're gifting someone to cheer them up, consider a bouquet of chocolate hearts for a perfect gift hamper accompanied with an elegant floral perfume for a striking impression.

10 Fragrances to Beat the Winter Blues for Men/Women:

Patricia de Nicolai Le Temps d'une Fête
The perfect hyacinth-ladden green floral to evoke spring, full of crushed leaves & grass; a fragrance so beautiful and cheerful that it will make you spin around and around humming Mendelssohn's Spring Song even when getting down the Christmas decorations.

Ayala Moriel Les Nuages de Joie Jaune
Described as "drifting in yellow clouds of happiness", this is an all-natural soliflore fragrance built on the yellow pom-poms of mimosa and the honeyed goodness of cassie. As light as air and as joyful as the first bright, sunny day in late February. [availability]

Annick Goutal Songes
Someplace in the tropics, languorous women with Gaugin-esque physiques pick up cananga odorata (ylang ylang blossoms) to render their sunny essence which finds its way inside this summery potion of liquid sunshine. A floriental full of the suntan and solar notes of salicylates, fanned on a vanillic and woody base.

Guerlain Aqua Allegoria Mandarine Basilic
These succulent Mediterranean flavours, combining almost as in a fruit salad, benefit from the spicy zing of the basil note. An easy, piquant scent which lifts the mood anytime.

Profumum Victrix
The Latin sounding name hides a masculine cologne of earth and wind, where the laurel, the greens and the coriander conspire to give notions of open, endless prairies under a dog-toothed sun.

Molinard de Molinard
Fruity floral in the best possible sense. If you like Amazone and just didn't know where to look to to find a similar fragrance, look no further. This is has the happy ambience of a warm summer evening spent at an outdoors cinema in Sicily or a Greek island, all paved with gravel, with thick jasmine & honeysuckle vines climbing its walls, watching Cinema Paradiso.


Hermès Concentrée d'Orange Verte
This lime-laced cologne is simply the best masculine/unisex cologne to lift a lagging mood or a weary spirit. The hesperidic touch is enough to get you out of bed as sure as a good Robusta.

Patou Câline
The greenly fresh aldehydic sophistication and malleable primness of Patou’s Câline remind me of Audrey Hepburn in Sabrina, after her European trip in which she becomes a proper “lady”, almost unrecognizable to those who knew her as merely the chauffer’s daughter to the rich family. [Full review here.]

Lancôme Miracle So Magic
A surprising entry in the Miracle flankers stable, this is composed by Annick Menardo and although it diverts from her smoky, dark path, it bears a remarkable affability without insipidness: the green sweet smell of clover fields opens up on an endless vista in front of you as wild-flowers zoom into focus. Just lovely!

Hermès Iris Ukiyoé
Its detractors call it "Yuck! Away!" but don't let this parody on the Japanese-alluding name deter you. Notes of an aqueous hydrangea and a lightly spicy grape-like accent bring forth the fantasy of the iris flower, instead of the familiar rooty-violety root. Spring-like! [Full review here.]

And of course anticipating some of the upcoming fragrances for spring makes one dream a little bit and withstand the last throes of cold better. Catch them up here!

And you? What are your favourite fragrances to come out of hibernation? Tell me in the comments.



Spring Song by Felix Mendelssohn from "Lieder Ohne Worte".
Painting "The Promise of Spring" by Lawrence Alma-Tadema.
Molinard pic via Perfumes.bighouse.blogspot.com. Goutal bottle via thefragrantelf.livejournal.com

Chanel Gardenia vintage vs. modern Les Exclusifs Gardenia: fragrance review & history

The original Gardénia, issued by Chanel in 1925 and composed by legendary perfumer Ernest Beaux who created all the early opi/opera of Chanel, was built on a fashion premise: The deco motifs of the 1920s exalted the almost cubist arrangement of flower petals, resulting in designs which were transported into impressive jewellery. Gardénia was not conceived as, nor was it meant to be, a gardenia soliflore, although the heavy-smelling blossom was picked thanks to its optical resemblance to Mademoiselle Chanel's favourite flower: the camelia, which doesn't hold a scent. The name in reality derives from the English word "garden" (it's jardin in French): a popular reference of the times, especially if we recall the Shalimar story and the gardens of Lahore that made the imagination run wild. That was then.

But gardenia fragrances in particular re-entered the consciousness of the public with a vengeance in the next decade, the 1930s, in a different manner. This was a time of financial difficulties and a more conservative cultural milieu, when every company was launching or re-issuing their own gardenia fragrance; advertising them as a return to neo-romanticism, the gardenia boutonnières of Edwardian dandies and the gardens in the South of France which provided welcome escapism. Indeed an American advertisement for Chanel Gardénia mentions how it's meant to evoke romantic gardens at the Riviera and tags it as a youthful fragrance. [Chanel is no stranger to capitalizing on advertising to promote specific perceptions of their products, as it famously did with No.5.]
It was 1936 after all when the hit song "These Foolish Things (Remind Me of You)" by Eric Maschwitz & Jack Starchey included the infamous lyric "gardenia perfume lingering on a pillow"...alongside "an airplane ticket to romantic places". Is it any wonder that in the economically "tough" decade of the 1970s Brian Ferry & Roxy Music chose to bring this song back doing their own cover on it (1973)? Chanel would eventually bring their Gardénia back from the dead too; but almost two decades later. And as recently as the end of the 2000s yet again, this time in their boutique line Les Exclusifs where's it's still available.

Olfactorily, the two versions cannot be any more different, providing a valuable history lesson for any inquisitive perfume lover:

The vintage Chanel Gardénia was composed on a narcissus base with a green accent of styrallyl acetate; a freshly green note, naturally present in budding gardenias and a very popular inclusion in many classic floral chypres: It provides the gardenia greeness in the heart which compliments the mossiness of the background, from Miss Dior to Ma Griffe. The trick of composing a "gardenia chord" instead of using an extract from nature was necessitated by technical complications: No essence could be rendered (till very, very recently in fact and then only in some extremely limited distribution niche fragrances). The gardenia in the hands of Chanel is oscillating between green and creamy, as it's allied to other white florals with a powdery veil.
The top note of the vintage Gardénia however is surprising in that it's built on a violet accent, composed through octin and heptin methyl carbonate. The progression from the sweeter violet to the feminine floral harmony in the heart, featuring natural jasmine, makes for a rounder experience with woodier base notes recalling those in Chanel's own Bois des Îles or even Coty's Imprevu, with a spicy whiff of vetiver lingering.
The vintage came in extrait de parfum (a very round and feminine smell) and later Eau de Toilette in the standard square bottles with the round black screw-on cap. Opening one, made me realise how different the perceptions of a floral were in those eras back contrasted with today: Although I can feel the delicate rendering of petals, there is no immediate "department-store atmosphere" of a hundred florals sprayed simultaneously into the air. Drop by drop, it's silky and polished, like a strand of patina rose pearls in slightly differing diameter.

The original version of Gardenia circulated well into the 1950s, but it disappeared at some point when other Chanel fragrances such as No.19 and Cristalle entered the scene. Sometimes the labels did not have the French accent aigu for the American market.
An effort was made to bring it back alongside the more faithfully rendered classics Cuir de Russie and Bois des Iles in the Chanel "Rue Cambon" exclusive boutique circuit at the cusp of the 1990s: Regrettably, it was the least resistant link in the chain, accounting for a rather destitute white floral. The bottle in extrait was rectangular with a white label like standard Chanel extraits (depicted) and the colour of the juice a light yellow. There was also a limited edition Eau de Toilette in a rectangular bottle edged in gold, with white label and white cap in the 1990s (shown on the right).




The modern version of Gardénia as part of Chanel Les Exclusifs more upscale line, reworked by Jacques Polge, conforms to the latest regulations and changing tastes. Thus it is comparatively much thinner, stretched to its limit, based on a standard white floral chord with fresh & green jasmine/hedione, "clean" orange blossom cologne-ish notes and just a smidgen of tuberose (and absolutely no gardenia whatsoever). A delicate vanilla base is the only other detectable note, very light and soft without much sweetness. The fragrance's popularity and reception is no doubt accounted by its transparent and easy demeanor which lends itself easily to any wearer. There is a young, ice-princess vibe about it, rather classy in its sex-denying way.

It leaves something to be desired in fulfilling a powerful romantic imagery and rather much in providing an avant-garde entry in the field of white florals (which it could have tried if it wanted to); but its wearability provides options for casual & office wearing, which is more than can be said for some of the more sumptuous and demanding vintages. Among Les Exclusifs, in Eau de Toilette concentration with an even paler colour of juice than before, Gardénia is also one of the most fleeting, making for a brief experience that needs to be constantly renewed.

Notes for Chanel Gardénia: jasmine, gardenia, orange blossom, tuberose, clove, sage, pimento, musk, patchouli, sandalwood and vetiver.


Ella Fitzerald sings These Foolish Things


And Brian Ferry reprises it in his own innimitable style in a rare 1974 video.

pic of vintage parfum via musclecars.net. Ebay & stock bottle photos. Pearl necklace & gardenia extrait bottle via the Romantic Query Letter.

By Kilian Incense Oud: fragrance review

Nothing is more alluring than the forbidden and at a time when the Muslim world appears as West's "enemy" in the zeitgeist, the surge for Arabian-inspired perfumes is gaining momentum thanks to that very axiom. Incense Oud by Kilian is one member of the cast in this multi-character play where prestige and polish are given to niche lines through the claim on age-old materials, such as oud/agarwood and incense; but it's not just a supporting player.

Incense Oud managed to make me notice ~my nose has become seriously jaded with oud-claiming notes in just about every price-point in the market!~ and that's no small feat. Is it because oud has become a play on perception since the perfume doesn't -apparently- contain any? Smoother than the Montale aoud scents, which possess that "Band-Aid note" so distinctly and which announce their presence from five blocks away, the Kilian fragrance feels very wearable and with its elegant eloqution of Eastern materials manages to smell at once mysterious and meditative. It's an "oud fragrance" for non-oud-lovers, but it doesn't betray the promise of Middle Eastern atmosphere.

To an audience of men and women tired of the pop celebritoids popping up through reality TV and one-hit wonders, a media plate brimming with upstarts ready to forsake their panties at the drop of a nickel and eager to leak their own sex video tapes online, a veiled lady or a tanned Arabian prince half hidden under a djelaba look not only exotic, but infinitely classy. When on the other hand you have a Colossus such as LVMH, the Group behind the By Kilian brand (indeed Kilian Hennesy is the heir to the throne of the cognac empire) supporting and pushing the Arabian Scent Concept to anyone willing to look beyond Walmart, you can bet you have a sizzling hot trend on your hands!

As announced, By Kilian Incense Oud is the newest installation to the "Arabian Nights" collection. It is a dark and well balanced blend of frankincense & woods (cedar, patchouli and sandalwood get amped by the naturally leathery accents of cistus labdanum and the murkiness of a little oakmoss) evoking the "impression" of oud. The patchouli gets a boozy, almost licoriced facet, it's soft and quite delicious.
The first impression you get from Incense Oud is terpenes-rich frankincense, the kind you smell in Catholic churches (the Roman Catholic Church sources its supplies from Somalia); in fact the brand claims it makes a quart of the total formula! It doesn't present itself as a hard-core incense fragrance nevertheless and there is no smoky trail, but rather a resinous quality about it. The naturally citric facets of this ancient gum are reinforced by complimentary notes (methyl pamplemouse for one, which is grapefruit-like). The natural pairing of oud on the other hand is traditionally rose, but you can't quite pinpoint this is as rosy. Rose is smoothly blended with the patchouli and therefore nothing like you'd meet at the florist's or ~heaven forbid!~ in a toilet freshener. Think of the treatment of rose in Voleur de Roses in L'Artisan for that segment in the fragrance, a dark rose unfurling its petals under a moonless sky.
The lasting impression is patchouli with a hint of myrrh to reinforce the sweetness in Incense Oud: the longer the perfume stays on skin, the more pronounced the sweet leaves become. Of course, patchouli is to the 2000s what hair mousse was to the 1980s: there's simply no escaping it. Not that I particularly mind.

Sidonie Lancesseur had composed the oud-themed Cruel Intentions, as well as Straight to Heaven, for the brand’s introductory "L’Oeuvre Noire" series. The rest were composed by Calice Becker. Although the info on shopping sites presents Lancesseur as the creator of this scent as well, the Kilian press says that Becker is the real creator. Here she was presented ~oddly~ with the challenge of composing an oud-themed fragrance without including the essence or the synth. I seem to think there's a smidge of it there, but I could just be showing my contrarian colours!

The whys of such a decision not to advertise as it containing oud, when the name alludes otherwise, could be seen in diverging interpretations: It could be that the challenge is a plea to people's intelligence and consequently perfume aficionados' increasing cynicism: "You distrust oud as a mentioned ingredient, so here, we're offering you one which doesn't lie in its notes about what it contains or not". Or it could be interpreted differently, along the lines that since oud is the material du jour, it doesn't matter whether or not there is any included; "as long as it's mentioned in the name, people will try it and buy it". Of course I am not professing any of the two versions as truer than the other; I'm just noticing things!
Kilian offers cardamom as a featured note too (probably because the inclusion of cardamom pods are a time-honoured tradition in the preparation of delicious Arabian coffee and is too good a reference to eschew), but it's not as discernible as in Cartier's Déclaration for instance; it doesn't form a major part of the experience.
Simply put, if you like frankincense and patchouli-rose accords, you stand good chances to like Incense Oud, because it lives up to the former (being the first half of its name) and offers a polished interpretation of the later. The sillage is medium and tenacity is very good. It's a sneaky scent I found, growing on you upon consequent wearings.

Notes for Incense Oud By Kilian:
Guatemala cardamom, pink pepper, Turkish rose, Egyptian geranium, methyl pamplemousse, Virginia cedarwood, Indonesian patchouli, Indian papyrus, Somalia incense (oil and absolute), sandalwood, Macedonian oakmoss, Spanish cistus labdanum, musks.

Available in 50ml bottles for $395 (ouch!!) at Luckyscent et al. Smart tip: go for the refills for same quantity for 175$ (i.e. perfect for splitting).

Disclosure: I was sent a sample vial for reviewing purposes. Pic was sent to me by email unaccredited.

Serge Lutens Jeux de Peau: fragrance review & draw

Horace had written* referring to his diet: "Me pascunt olivae, me cichorea, me malvae" ("As for me, olives, chicory, and mallows provide sustenance"). I don't know if I could supress my gluttony for "all the perfumes of Arabia" into a diet of only a few well-chosen ones, but Serge Lutens has a way into tempting me. Jeux de Peau, his newest (upcoming for the US) launch, is no exception. With vivid contrasts and a fascinating plot via Daedalean alleyways, it proves that the Master is still producing fragrances that can surprise and excite.


Jeux de Peau (pronounced Zø de POH) aka Skin Games, a fragrance for both genders, was supposed to smell of buttered toast, recalling Serge's quick run to the boulangerie across the road to pick up a baguette: "It gets me back to the 'don't forget to pick up the bread on the way back from school!' At the boulangerie at the end of the road, its captivating odour and its blond and warm light, a golden moment..." says Serge. Well, naughty, naughty Uncle, this is not what one would expect! The mercurial Serge actually hints at the humanity of the fragrance when he provocatively says "Eat, for this is my body"; especially if we consider that some human skins do smell like bread, the "dough" impression being a Ph variance.

Not that that this cryptic game would be unusual for any fan; in fact the fascination with the newest Lutensian opus comes exactly by its surprising character, at once a part of the Lutens-Sheldrake canon and a little apart; it's new and at the same time familiar, like seeing the photographs of antecedants and trying to pinpoint what part of the genetic roll of dice resulted in similarities with one's own offspring.
Starting to break down the composition of Jeux de Peau much talk has been conducted about the "burnt" note of pyrazines [see this lexicon on perfume effects according to notes/ingredients for definition] but I remain sceptical: Jeux de Peau doesn't really smell burnt or heavily roasted; more milky-spicy-golden in the sandalwood goodness that was Santal Blanc. It has a pronounced celery-pepper opening note, much like Chypre Rouge did, a trait that will certainly prove controversial, coupled with delectable milky-buttery notes which almost melt with pleasure on skin. The celery effect ~celery seeds were a common element in Mediaeval French cooking~ lasts for only about 5 minutes seguing into the main course: the buttery accords, alongside a distinctive, very pleasant chicory note.
Chicory, a bitterish-spicy smell, is a profoundly clever "note", if I am correct in surmissing it was the centre of the Jeux de Peau creation all along: It was substituting coffee in WWII, which might account for some of the memories of Serge, but it also evokes beer because producers add some in their stouts to lend flavour. Beer is so close to bread in olfactory terms that it's enough to put some on a pot on the stove for your guests to be fooled into thinking you're baking your own bread! (Not that you'd resort to such tricks, or would you?) Plus chicory root is 20% inulin which is very similar to starch. So the bread connection is there all right!
Immortelle/helichrysum notes (caramelic maple & spicy fenugreek facets) are allied to the familiar candied-dried fruits (apricot mainly, simply lovely!) which perfumer Chris Sheldrake has been respinning in novel and delecious combinations for Lutens ever since the inauguration of the Palais Royal niche line in 1992. This complex stage in Jeux de Peau by Lutens is sustained for a long, long time; it reminds me of rich Byzantine mosaics; tiny tesserae of glazed material surfacing and receding according to the angle from which you're viewing it.


If you like the core accords of Féminité du Bois or Boxeuses, you will probably detect them easily in Jeux de Peau. But the two diverge in other ways: there's no familiar plum, not much cedar, nor leather (as in the case of Boxeuses), while we can see that wheat & barley are evoked throughout that warm "gourmand" woody. If Serge hadn't mentioned he was inspired from his forays to the baker's clutching the baguette for home, we wouldn't be so insistent on searching for toast; a whiff of Crusader's pain au four it is and delectably so I might add.

If you're wondering if Jeux de Peau would suit you, apart from the wise advice I can offer to always sample a Lutens any fragrance ~just in case~ I can suggest that if you're a lover of other intellectual oriental woodies such as Like This by Etat Libre d'Orange or Tea for Two by L'Artisan, you have high chances of liking this one very much as well. It's rather odd that Jeux de Peau launches in spring, when it's the sort of snuggly fragrance you'd want to put on while wrapped in a cashmere blanket watching nonchalantly the logs in the fireplace change colours from brown to vermillon to bright red to ashen, but Lutensian fans are not very season-specific anyway.

A sample of the upcoming Jeux de Peau will be given away to a reader. State in the comments what is your most fragrant memory from childhood not involving actual fine fragrance and I will pick a random winner. Draw is open till Friday midnight.

Jeux de Peau belonging to the export range of oblong bottles is out in France as we speak (79 euros for 50ml Eau de Parfum), but will launch internationally on March 1st. The Perfume Shoppe in Canada is already taking pre-orders.

*Odes 31, ver 15, ca 30 BC

An intelligent essay on the scent, in French, on Ambre Gris. Photograph in black & white Le Petit Parisien by Willie Ronis via Art is not Dead. Bottle pic via duftarchiv.de
Disclosure: Initial sample was kindly procured by my reader Emanuella. Another sample was later sent by Lutens as part of their mailout, so that is given away to the readers.