Natalie Portman in Miss Dior Cherie 2011 Commercial

The sighs of Jane Birkin under Serge Gainsbourg's classic (and racy) "Je t'Aime...moi non plus" song are accompanying a new sexy siren of the 2000s: Natalie Portman, the newest face for Miss Dior Chérie, again directed by Sofia Coppola (as reported previously)and a viable Oscar contestant for her performance in Black Swan. It's funny to contemplate that the previous music choice for Sofia's commercial a few years ago was a tune by Brigitte Bardot, the very person who first sang the controversial orgasmic song by Gainsbourg; that version was revoked by her husband Gunter Sachs nevertheless. Serge then turned to Jane Birkin to record it to the outcry of the Vatican and the song became immortal in that version.

Nowadays it doesn't sound half as controversial as it did, but is the new commercial for Dior really reflecting the free sprit of the 60s and early 70s in an age that is so conservative despite the bom-bom swaying in hip hop videos and the public display of intimate personal details? "I am the wave, you the naked island"? "I go and I come in between your loins"? I think not...
Apart from a little suggestive play with a tie (posing as both a blindfold and a sort of leash) you'll have to squint your mental muscles into perceiving any more sexual innuendo in the Natalie Portman commercia!. The video is more romantic cliche than racy, although it's certainly more man-to-woman interactive than the previous "I fell fine trailblazing across Paris by myself" commercial by Coppola.
Talk about Natalie Portman stripping for the spot only resulted in her vaguely beginning to remove a few clothes with no more titillation, unless a bath tub scene where she's immersed up to her neck wearing sunglasses is considered risque. It looks like a shot from "Garden State"really, maybe a tip of the hat from the director. Sofia Coppola however really knows how to direct the whole into making us want to douse ourselves in overpriced Eau. Taking in mind I have an aversion to the overly sweet character of the original Miss Dior Chérie (but I do like L'Eau version), I find this is quite a feat! What do you think?

NB. The commercials are set to accompany the latest reformulation of the Eau de Parfum by head Dior perfumer F.Demachy.

Guy Laroche Fidji: fragrance review & history

Fidji by Guy Laroche, coming out in 1966, revolutioned the industry in more ways than one: First, it was at chasm with the previous French aesthetic perfumes coming out from French houses & designers. Here there was a fragrance which represented escapism, but that escapism was communicated in very American-shaped methods. Secondly, it showcased that apart from imaginative names (a tradition which knew some excellent examples in the past anyway), every perfume had to deliver a specific story, a story that would address a need and a desire of the audience to whom it was aimed at. Fidji succeeded beautiful but it also happened to be a beautiful perfume to begin with.

Composed by one of the unknown forces in the industry, nose Josephine Catapano, long before perfumers became rock-stars or began composing fragrances to evoke orgasmic effluvia, Fidji, a freshly green floral with tropical inclusions of ylang ylang and carnation, is a fragrance representative of its times and one which influenced many following it, such as Guerlain's Chamade, Cacharel Anais Anais, Chanel No.19, Givenchy III, Climat and even Charlie by Revlon. Fidji pushed to its extremities, on both ends of its skeleton, could be said to have inspired even Lauder for her bitter chypre Private Collection. After all, Catapano also worked for Lauder and IFF for years where she later became the mentor of Sophia Grojsman. Michael Edwards confirms my theory when he says:

[Fidji] “pioneered a new generation of fresh perfumes: Norell (1969), Charlie (1973), Gucci No 1 (1975) and a hundred other fragrances following its lead”.

Guy Laroche launched Fidji at a time when the youth market seemed like a particularly desirable budding segment to advertisers; what with the upheaval of the 1960s which brought out the power of young ideals and the romanticism of following your heart, and what with the desire of the young to map out their own territories, their own olfactory landscapes. These landscapes often revolved around the East or civilizations away from the Western anxieties...such as those of the South Pacific where the Fidji islands are located and the managers of the brand were taking their vacation when the idea formed. The Beatles were leaving for India and the hippies were gathering at Haight Asbury. Refound paradises were especially suggestive. The market demanded different approaches than the traditional "keeping up with the Joneses" social approach (a respectable perfume to assert one's spending power) or the heavy seduction games of old. Thus woman became "an island and Fidji was her perfume" as the memorable motto went. Women-isles through the years clutched the bottle closely to their smooth bosoms in the glossy images; women as famous as supermodel Linda Evangelista who posed for the ads in the early 1990s.

The olfactory inspiration for Fidji comes from another youthful (in its time) classic: L'Air du Temps by Nina Ricci. The salicylate heart with the clove-y tint was taken apart and enrobed in a new cloth, the rest modernised by Catapano accordingly and given a very fresh fuzzy start which is green rather than peachy, and a base with more patchouli and sandalwood which lasts well.

The opening impression of the Laroche scent is one of bitterish freshness with a cool (rather than warm) heart of flowers in which hyacinth pops its head, at odds with the modern expectations of a tropical evoking fragrance atavistically smelling of suntan oil and tiaré blossoms. Fidji isn't especially tropical despite the name and feels just as fitting in an al fresco lunch in the Hamptons in June, silk dresses in shades of paradise birds blowing softly in the breeze, as it does in an outdoor cafe in August-hot Barcelona with Verner Pantone S chairs laid out in orange and green. Its feminine sensuality is derived from the milky woodiness of sandalwood and the subtle musky trail it leaves on skin after the fresh floral notes and the mossy green dissipate; it behaves with delicate elegance and knows its place, even if it keeps its escapist fantasies close at heart.

Unfortunately, Fidji is among the creations which are best savoured in older formulations, as the modern Eau de Toilette, a rare sight at department stores or online, alongside its ancillary products, seems a bit thinned out, although still quite pleasant and many cuts above many more recent launches. Vintage Eau de Cologne concentration looks like a fine medium if you can't get yourself some of the old parfum. It's still available although rarer and rarer in some auction sites.

Notes for Guy Laroche Fidji:
citrus (lemon), galbanum, hyacinth, ylang ylang, carnation (via clove), spices, Bulgarian rose, jasmine, orris, vetiver, oakmoss, sandalwood, patchouli, balsam, musk, ambergris.

Frequent Questions: How to Date Guerlain Parure Bottles

Among the Guerlain fragrances, one of relatively not very old crop (1975) is seriously missed by connoisseurs: Parure, with its golden plummy reprise of what made Mitsouko the monument of beauty that it is. Simply put, Parure is a more wearable, more festive Mitsouko, a fruity chypre in the best possible sense "a wildly original blend of lilac and amber, cyprus and plum blossoms" (as quoted in a 1977 advertisement) and one of the last throes of a lineage which includes such beauties as Rochas Femme and Dior's Diorama. Parure is discontinued due to not conforming with recent standards of alleged allergens in the industry self-regulating body IFRA, according to an interview which the artistic director of maison Guerlain, Sylvaine Delacourte granted to Perfume Shrine in summer 2009. Very much a pity, shooting vintage juice on sale to stratospheric heights and justifiably so: Because Parure not only is lovely to smell, but it also came in some of the most beautiful, unique bottles and packaging in Guerlain history! In the interests of chronologising your bottles (or potential purchases, if you are so lucky as to find any), here is a small guide to Guerlain Parure perfume bottles.



The original edition in extrait de parfum is among the most beautiful specimens of crystal making: a rounded body topped with a crystal cap which reprises the movement of a wave, the whole mounted on a small pedestral in black bakelite engraved Guerlain and housed in a celadon-hued box. Six moulds were made by Pochet et du Courval from March 1975 till September 1981 in the following sizes:
2.3ml mini,
7.5ml/0.25oz,
15ml/0.5oz (with a footing in crystal instead of the black pedestral)
30ml/1oz, 60ml/2oz,
120cc (that's 120ml aprox.; it has no "foot" in crystal and bears 1974 copyright on the box, while it was stopped in October 1980) and a staggering mould for a 1290ml factice.
Saint-Gobin Desjonquères issued a 15ml/0.5oz mould in June 1979, which bears on the bottom in relief "Guerlain Paris Bottle made in France SGD" and the number of the lot.

A contemporary more standard amphora bottle of the extrait de parfum (like the one depicted here) was also in circulation as well as the "umbrella flacon" (see this article), probably aimed at different markets as is usual with a house with so rich a history as Guerlain.

From October 1981, the production of the magnificent Parure extrait "wave" bottle stopped altogether (making the crystal extrait version extremely sought after as a rare collectable). The fragrance was offered instead in standard quadrilobe bottles (which also houses many of the house's extraits to this day, such as Jicky, Nahema, Vol de Nuit etc) in sizes 7.5ml and 15ml. You can see a big picture of it on this article, reviewing a rarer scent in the Guerlain stable, Pour Troubler.
All extrait de parfum (pure parfum) producion in Parure stopped at the end of 1989 and the fragrance circulated in Eau de Toilette concentration (but NOT Parfum de Toilette) thereafter.

Another very rare specimen and sought-after collectable is this design on the right, le flacon strié, as it's called. The rarity is due to it being a limited edition, issued for the Eau de Toilette of only Parure and Chant d'Arômes. This version by Saint-Gobin Desjonquères circulated from March 1994 until August 1995 in only 750.000 bottles for both scents. The box and round sticker label on the bottle are in geometrical patterns of red-orange-terracotta tones for Parure and in pink-yellow-pistachio hues for Chant d'Arômes.

Habit de Fete bottle for Eau de Toilette, far left and far right.

Flacon goutte for 500ml eau de toilette

The more standard bottle for the length of the late 1980s and 1990s in Parure Eau de Toilette and Eau de Parfum was the long refill bottle in the Habit de Fete gold canister with the cut-outs (left and right of the top photo): 50ml for Eau de Parfum and 93ml for Eau de Toilette.
Before that there was the flacon goutte (shaped like a large tear, hence teardrop bottle) with a mushroom-like cap for the Eau de Toilette in the 500ml size for dedicated wearers, depicted directly above. The label is oval with a black background and gold lettering, as you can see.



The final design for Parure comes in the standard "bee bottle" introduced for the rest of the Eau de Toilette range (including Après L'Ondée, Chant d'Aromes, Mouchoir de Monsieur, the Eaux de Cologne such as Impériale, Du Coq and Fleurs de Cedrat) in the early late 1990s. Two versions circulate in this size and style: one reformulated to meet latest requirements till 2009, the other with a shorter ingredients list slightly older. The packaging is otherwise identical.

Guerlain Parure is just one of the vintage scents where knowing the packaging history greatly adds to the better understanding of both scent and the collection value of any bottle.

top pic & goute pic thanks to les-parfums

Perfume Choices of the Famous: Liv Tyler

According to reportage, the stunning actress - for some years now an ambassadress for Givenchy and the face of the new fragrance Very Irresistible L'Intense - says "she doesn't like to change her fragrance as she wants people to recognise her smell but hates it when the scent is too much".

She's quoted as saying: "I like having one perfume that I wear all the time, so it becomes part of you. When someone remembers your scent, it's incredible. I don't like it when you first spray on a fragrance. It's nice when you've put it on in the morning, then in the evening, you can subtly smell it." [source]
Of course she's quick to point out that the newest Givenchy is her favourite. As if she wouldn't. Doesn't really matter: Liv is lovely whatever she wears.

Cacharel Anais Anais: fragrance review & history

Who could imagine a block-buster perfume today being promoted through porcelain-skined beauties in soft focus showing no inch of skin beyond their necks set to pre-classical music? And yet Anais Anais, the first perfume by Cacharel (1978), was advertised exactly like that and became THE reference scent for the early 1980s for droves of young women who still reminiscence fondly of it 30 years later. It's also one of the most influential perfumes in history, at least on what concerns marketing success ~a triumph of Annette Louit~ and top-to-bottom design, if not complexity, quality materials or classicism of composition. It didn't possess any of the latter.

Yet it's still featured on the Cacharel website prominently and is up front on perfume counters. For many,
Anais Anais by Cacharel was the first fragrance they got as a gift; or even better the first they cashed out their pocket money for: Its image was youthful from the start. No doubt the deceptively innocent scent, coupled with the dreamy advertisements accounted for that, as did the opaline packaging with the pastel flowers on it and the slightly suggestive name. It was the debate of many, to this day: Was Anais Anais a reference to writer Anais Nin and her ~"forbidden" to the young~ erotic literature, such as Delta of Venus? Or was it a nod to the ancient Persian goddess Anaitis, goddess of fertility? And which was more provocative?

Cacharel was specializing in retro knits at the time and both references for the name were valid enough, although the company always officially went with the latter. The goddess was testament to a peculiar cultural phenomenon on what concerned the position of woman in the zeitgeist: On the one hand Anais Anais with its imagery disrupted the context of feminism in perfume; the complete antithesis of Charlie by Revlon (1973), if you will, where Shelley Hack was dressed in pants skipping off to work or grabbing the bum of a cute guy in the street as an outward manifestation of her desire to be divested of her traditional passive role. These were both youthful fragrances advertised to the young. So what had intervened in those 5 years elapsing to account for such a change? Nothing much. (If you exclude the rush of spicy orientals in the market in the wake of Opium's success). The French aesthetic was always more traditionally feminine than the American one, going for Venus over Diana, and the marketeers soon realized that the beauty industry can't disregard the changes of times, but deep down, it will always depend on the passivity of the consumer into buying "hope in a jar". Perfume is perhaps the most mysterious of all beauty products, ladden with hundreds associations and legion aspirations. It was deemed best to start bouncing the ball back right away... Plus the youth market hadn't been exploited sufficiently (this was back in the 1970s remember) and someone had perceived that the young regarded standard perfume imagery as bourgeois and old-fashioned: they needed their own. Cacharel was extra attentive to grow the market; they put basins in department stores where they encouraged young women to plunge their hands in basins of water, dry them, apply scented cream on them and then finishing off with a spritz of Anais Anais, extoling the virtues of "layering" for a lasting effect. A youth phenomenon was at work.


And Sarah Moon was called for the Anais Anais advertisements: To take shots of women as pale-limped and virginaly innocent as paintings, lily-like, exactly like the opaline bottle and the main core of the fragrance which was built on lilies of the fields. The long limps gained an almost Piero Della Francesca sanctity, the doe-eyed gazes were soft and narcotized, almost. Were they beckoning unto the males watching, inviting by their easy-to -prey-on-passivity and odalisque-style harem numbers? Or were they nuzzling on each other evoking lesbian fantasies? Perhaps the most provocative thing is that the ladies in question all appeared so very.. young; almost under-age! Whatever the intention, the imagery is still memorable: It marks a mental no-mands-land between the advent of feminism in advertising and the regression to conservative values of the 1990s, peppered with some of the issues that still concern those of us who immerse themselves in beauty advertising with a critical eye.

Four perfumers were credited with the creation of Anais Anais jus: Paul Leger, Raymond Chaillan, Roger Pellegrino and Robert Gonnon, working at Firmenich. A surprising fact as the formula isn't complicated or challenging really. The opening is fresh and a little "screechy", a touch
of green galbanum resin felt all the way through the base (galbanum is in fact a base note but it's felt at the top), giving a herbaceous overture that segues into the main attraction: lily of the valley forms the core coupled with another "clean" note, that of orange blossom, sanctified through the wonders of analytical chemistry. White lilies melt as if gaining human form, tender, devoid of their customary spiciness and given a touch of woody dryness. There is a supporting accord of honeysuckle, jasmine and rose, played sourdine; it's not especially felt. The permeating cleanness continues for long before a hint of playful soft leather in the base surfaces alongside indeterminate, powdered woods to give an intriguing twist to the plot: is this an autumnal scent for more mature women, I wonder?
Although I seem to recall the scent of Anais Anais as a little bit more "substantial" in all its softness, there is no major change in its formula last I compared batches, probably because there is not much of allergens-suspect ingredients necessitating restrictions and because hydrocitronellal (lotv note) has been successfuly substituted anyway. It's a pity the parfum concentration has been extinct for some years now, as it played up the autumnal basenotes beautifully.

Notes for Cacharel Anais Anais
Top: Bergamot, galbanum, hyacinth, honeysuckle, orange blossom
Middle: Lily, lily of the valley, rose, ylang-ylang, tuberose, carnation
Base: Cedarwood, sandalwood, amber, oakmoss, incense, vetiver




Sarah Moon photography via weheartit.com and thefashionspot.com