K de Krizia: fragrance review

K de Krizia by Italian designer Krizia is a fragrance like they don't build them anymore: a very classy aldehydic floral fragrance with chypre-green tonalities, composed by revered perfumer Maurice Roucel. Launched in 1980, it has suffered the memory loss that plagues all less-known fragrances: It's largely unsung and few hard-core fans search high and low for it now that it's difficult to come across.

Despite its timeless, graceful and rather sensual arc, I cannot stress enough that in order to savour the complexities and powerful elegance that K de Krizia can offer you, you must like aldehydes in general and, on top of that, old-school compositions featuring them in particular. An unashamed cool customer, it wouldn't feel out of place with a well-cut suit and leather cinched waist. The Louise Brooks bob is optional.

K de Krizia opens with the brisk and razor sharp intensity of those white-light molecules called aldehydes. Mention aldehydes and everyone in a Pavlovian-like motif thinks of Chanel No.5. Certainly the feeling of aldehydic florals has been inextricably tied to memories and whiffs of No.5 for most people. But whereas the style is similar, the treatment is different enough: The peachiness and rosiness of K de Krizia, alongside the greener elements, differs considerably from the jasmine-richness and intense muskiness of Chanel No.5, the former being rather closer to Van Cleef & Arpels First or Balmain's Ivoire or even the chypre greeness aspect of Paloma Picasso than the iconic monstre.
If the opening of K de Krizia is primarily aldehydic, the florals emerge a little later to complicate things with honeyed pollen: rose, carnation, lily of the valley, and not so sweet jasmine (hedione) in an abstract harmony where no note predominates, gaining in deep mossiness as the fragrance dries down. The final stages are almost spicy from the leather, styrax and vetiver notes, and delectably powdery-soapy like only a woman who has used face powder with a fluffy retro pom-pom knows.

Between the different concentrations, the Eau de Parfum is more mellow and floral, while the Eau de Toilette exhibits drier facets and would be perfect on a man as well.
Sadly, K de Krizia has been reformulated for the worse: its rich oakmoss inclusion along with the flowers being rampant necessitated a close shave that cost it its richness, inherent femininity and natural feel of its floral essences.

Notes for K de Krizia:
Top: aldehydes, bergamot, peach, hyacinth, neroli
Middle: carnation, orange blossom, orchid, orris root, jasmine, lily-of-the-valley, rose and narcissus
Base: leather, sandalwood, amber, musk, civet, oakmoss, vanilla, vetiver and styrax.

Krizia pic via facebook

Why the new Chanel Coco Mademoiselle commercial with Keira Knightley in Beige is Ultimately Undewhelming

Chanel has just released their new 2011 commercial for Coco Mademoiselle starring Keira Knightley in what has to be the most bootylicious outfit out there for the brand (evah!) and I'm grumbling with a sense of disappointment. Before you start calling me a picky bitch, hear me out and see if you agree.


The commercial is gloriously saturated in rich, peachy-golden neutrals, echoed through settings, clothes and protagonists' colouring. The Ducati is eye candy. Keira, on whom I never was particularly big, looks gorgeous in sprayed-on beige & black as well, don't get me wrong! Whereas gowns with decolletage and bare arms let her skeletal glory show to much discomfort and to thinspiration for teens (apparently!), a fitted catsuit which hides her ribcage and, on the contrary, puts accent on her meatier parts (those thighs, that butt) suits her just fine. I was about to give a wolf's whistle upon seeing her riding, ass pert on that Ducati motorcycle, director Joe Wright hedonistically shooting it from the back for a brief while~wait, was it three whole seconds?~ but then remembered my XX chromosomes and restrained myself. Lots of guys won't, though, obviously because they don't have a matching set (of either chromosomes or butt cheeks), and that's the whole point: The message is Keira in Chanel has something going on for her, something wild, something sexy! So will -hopefully- every girl she's gifted with it. Perfume after all is largely the fantasy of hanging a Ferrari porte-clefs on your humble Fiat, isn't it?

But haven't we seen that before? Or is that too much teasing makes the heart go butter instead of aflutter? I'm surprised they chose It is a Man's World (interpreted by Joss Stone, yet again!) instead of Wild Thing by The Troggs as the soundtrack: Keira's certainly a wild thing if the full 3:20 minutes are to be taken into account: she makes pretty eyes at the photographer, with whom she has some sort of relationship. She shoots her as herself, the face of Chanel (a bit a la David Bailey) and then she leaves him all...frustrated, shall we say, leaving out the window. Sneaky minx...


But then the song choice does make sense after all, going straight for bull's eye actually: This is Chanel's positioning of Coco Mademoiselle as for the "powerful" young woman, the seductress, the one who yields the power of her appeal over those she meets; to the point that she doesn't actually need them anyway. She onanistically can leave them behind; her power lies within herself. The full commercial, the teasers and interviews which preceeded it said clearly this is Chanel emasculated, a Chanel superwoman, an androgynous figure ~certainly true for Keira's boyish figure, true for Gabrielle Chanel as a young lass too. But we're not dealing with an Amazon; far from it!

To my mind the era of the Glamazon has died alongside Helmut Newton and his photographs of women as mistresses of all they survey. Keira and Coco Mademoiselle are ~let's be honest~ too cute to even entertain the thought that they yield so much power. This is why it was necessary to have Keira pronounce it "not too sweet, not too overpowering, not flowery" in interviews, lying -yes, lying- that she used to wear men's scents blah blah blah....And therein lies the trap: Coco Mademoiselle does exhibit a fragrance structure of pretty & quite sweet flowers atop a rather masculine loud patchouli and vetiver base: a five o'clock shadow shows underneath a checkbone meticulously dusted with Nars Orgasm. Nevertheless, that five o'clock shadow doesn't come home bringing the bacon, doing a real job, taking it like a man. She still relies on tried & true feminine wiles sprinkled with promise and only has the motorcycle and boots to show for toughness. And what's more she proclaims to the whole wide world she's open for business, Coco Mademoiselle having aquired ~through use and abuse~ the inferred message of "come on big guy, I'm here waiting for you to hit on me, all smoky eyed, and martini at hand". Now that Coco Mademoiselle is everywhere, some of the mystique has gone and this new commercial doesn't help much. And nothing of it is Keira's fault. But they had been going for it since a while, so why am I complaining?

The first Keira-Chanel commercial, showing the stylish thief, who burgles through an open window to put on those gorgeous jewels and who then appears in a long red dress at a gala from which she leaves alone, much amused with herself, in my opinion exhibited real style, a sense of feminine independence and a playful desire for adventure. What does this newer one communicate? How to be a cock teaser? Chanel, you've come a long way; hopefully the Ducati doesn't stop here...

What do YOU think?

Perfumery Material: Osmanthus

Osmanthus fragrans (Sweet Osmanthus) or 桂花/ guìhuā in Chinese and金木犀/ Kinmokusei in Japanese is another member of the Oleaceae family (like olive or lilac) and its fresh and highly fragrant aroma is a natural wonder professing a nuanced texture. Also known as "Tea Olive" (because olive is the pre-eminent member of the Oleaceae family) it is the emblem flower of Hangzhou, China. It is especially valued as an additive for tea and other beverages in the Far East where usually the aromatic extract comes from the golden yellow flowers variety. This is because the variant Osmanthus fragrans Lour. var thunbergii has more carotenoids in its chemical make-up which contribute both to the sunnier colouring as well as the enhanced aroma.
The flowers are also used to produce osmanthus-scented jam (called guì huā jiàng)

Osmanthus absolute is an expensive raw material for the perfumer, but worth investing in due to its unique olfactory profile: Highly fragrant and succulent in its peachy-apricoty top note it is nothing short of mouthwatering. The effect of the natural flower is undoubtedly enhanced with a synthesized apricoty creamy note (benzylaldehyde, aldehyde C16, amyl butyrate), giving an almost velours effect. The essence of osmanthus naturally contains cis-jasmone (a white floral note), gamma-decalactone and various delta-lactones (peachy-milky notes) as well as several ionones derivates, which accounts for its violet-like sweetness.

Fragrances featuring a prominent osmanthus note:

Aubusson Desiderade
Aubusson Histoire d'Amour
Ayala Moriel Kinmokusei
Badgley Mischka by Badley Mischka
Bidjan DNA
Calvin Klein Escape
Davidoff Echo for women
Elizabeth Arden Sunflowers
Estee Lauder Beautiful Love
Escada Sunny Frutti
Fendi Theorema
Gap Dream
Givenchy L'Interdit (2003 re-issue)
Gucci Flora
Hermes Osmanthe Yunnan
Hove Tea Olive
Jean Patou 1000
Keiko Mecheri Osmanthus
Kenzo Jungle Le Tigre
Lancome Benghal (travel exclusive)
Marcela Borghese Il Bacio
Michael Kors by Micheal Kors
Narciso Rodriguez Narciso for Her (recreated note)
Nina Ricci Deci Dela
Oleg Cassini Cassini
Ormonde Jayne Osmanthus
Oscar de la Renta Volupte
Parfums d'Empire Osmanthus interdite
Providence Perfumes Osmanthus Oolong
Roger & Gallet Fleurs d'Osmanthus
Serge Lutens Datura Noir
The Different Company Osmanthus
Tous Touch

Ref: Sisido, K.; S. Ktirozumi, K. Utimoto and T. Isida, Fragrant Flower Constituents of Osmanthus fragrans

Photo of Osmanthus fragrans via jam343/flickr (some rights reserved)

The Quest for Long Lost Scents

"For a year I bought up every bottle I could find, and in the end probably collected about 50. The stash lasted me a decade, until 2002, when I had only a half bottle left. I stowed it at the back of my closet, to be opened only when I really needed to remember what my twenties smelled like. In the last few months, I’d been taking out that old, now discolouring, bottle more and more often. On a few nights I wore the ancient skin cream as if it was the most precious lace. It still smelled fine, a bit weak and baking soda-ish, but still nice, although the lotion had separated and quite frankly I felt like a weirdo slathering the stuff on. So we’ll leave the psychological analysis of what my renewed interest in a 19-yearold baby lotion says about my current state of mind for a different day. Best to tell you instead that this week I am in New York City, and I brought the bottle with me, and I have made a hobby of stealing out at lunchtime to various perfume shops, intent on replicating its contents".

Thus describes Mireille Silcoff her memories-loaded baby lotion by Johnson's & Johnson's in an article named "Smell is the Nearest Thing we Have To Bottled Time Travel" at The Ampersand on the National Post. The article includes a New York City touring of perfumeries, such as Aedes de Venustas and CB I Hate Perfume.
The piece will ring several bells for anyone who has stockpiled perfume in a spree to curtail possible shortage and will have you reminiscing about formative smells in your own past. Highly recommended reading.

thanks to 5oaks on POL for bringing it to my attention

Cacharel Eden: fragrance review

Named after the primeval garden of creation, Eden by parfums Cacharel broke new ground back when it launched (1994) "for the first time ever, encompassing the exhilaration of spring with sensuality", or rather the first fruity-semioriental-aquatic. Yes, I know, it sounds like an improbable combination like bacon ice-cream, but it managed to smell enticing nevertheless.

At least it did to me for the first bottle or so. Later I became bored with it and left it aside, never repurchasing. The body lotion I had bulk purchased was very nice and continued to remind me of the scent for a while longer. Imagine the shock and elation it provoked in me when my significant other remembered it when I brought out again a sample of it the other day and casually dabbed my wrists in this succulent fruity number. Memories, like cheap coffee, can come in instant form, after all, it seems! It’s a wonder those catchy innovative ideas like the offerings in the Je me souviens coffret from L’artisan Parfumeur (long discontinued) don’t lure in the buying audiences at a larger scale.


The bottle of the scent designed by Annegret Beier is completely friendly, in jade opaline, curved to fit in the palm of your hand, topped with a little green cap in the spray versions or a silvery boule in splash ones . Beautiful in its functionality.
When Eden first launched there was a big event that set new standards in the risky and costly mega –launches of perfumes: a whole garden recreated full with tropical and aquatic blooms and semi-clad girls in fountains following the cue of the print advertisements. Unfortunately, Eden didn’t sell that well, which incidentally is one of the reasons why it’s featured here today. In order not to lose such a highly covetable name and concept, Parfums Cacharel went on to create one of the first “flankers” of an original perfume, inaugurating a trend that has progressed so rapidly recently it has resulted in a dizzying exercise against Altzheimer's for us perfume lovers: It’s hard to keep up, I can tell you!
The follow up scent (i.e.the flanker) was Eau d’Eden and it is nice enough to warrant a separate review along the way.

Back to the fragrance at hand, Eden, composed by Jean Guichard, opens on tart fruits, namely bergamot, lemon, mandarin, and pineapple alongside melon ( the overuse of Calone was the note du jour of the 90’s after all). A very green smell also makes itself present, mixed with the fruits and the watery notes: it's not a typical fruity, nor is it a typical aquatic nevertheless. In its heart the standard rose-jasmine accord that forms part of most feminine scents is not particularly evident, instead that tree with yellow poms poms, the mimosa, with its sweet sugary, milky smell is the protagonist along with aqueous blossoms like water lily and lotus and a strange anisic component that casts a retro oriental shade on the proceedings. But overall the fruity heart has an element of bubblegum, but the girl popping it is so cute you’d be unfair to chastise her!
The base relies on cedarwood and a hint of patchouli. Sandalwood, vanilla and musk are also featured, although they do not peak as such. That warm, not particularly sweet, rather odly spicy base prompted Luca Turin to liken it to the smell of a wet cashmere sweater, which was later revealed to not be a bad thing. Never thought it were…

The flowers and fruits are happily Serpent-free in their wholesomeness, pre-lapsarian, the garden of Eden safe from the advances of evil for the time being. Even if this is not your thing, Eden does not disappoint: it's a love-it-or-hate-it kind of fragrance, which means it has something going for it. The good sillage and very good longevity are also pluses in my books.

Notes for Cacharel Eden:
Top: Mandarin, orange blossom, water lily, lotus blossom
Middle: Melon, pineapple, violet, mimosa
Base: Patchouli, sandalwood, vanilla, musk.


ads by Psine.net, Hieronymous Bosch Paradise and Hell painting