Bertrand Duchaufour Unveils Mon Numero 6 by L'Artisan Parfumeur & press for Batucada

"An unusual, lucid harmony between green, fruity, watery, floral and woody notes". This is what L'Artisan Parfumeur says of their latest, Mon Numéro 6, city-exclusive scent, inspired by their travels:

Evoking sensations of rebirth in which the first drops of rain give life back to the earth. A dreamy, leafy mood, imagine yourself barefoot on the ground in the midst of a monsoon. The official notes are lychee, magnolia flower and sandalwood.
Its perfumer, Bertrand Duchaufour, has a bit to say:



And a bit more on Batucada, which we had announced a little while ago, a collaboration between two perfumers, Karine Vinchon in Grasse and Elisabeth Maier in São Paulo.

Dior Patchouli Imperial: fragrance review & a Story on Perfume Sleuthing

Plus ça change, plus c'est la même chose.
(The more things change the more they remain the same.)
French proverb


~by AlbertCAN

For the majority of the summer Perfume Shrine has been investigating a grand perfumery mystery. The million dollar question: Finding the name of the next fragrance to be launched by Christian Dior. For two months, though living in separate continents (Elena in Europe, me in North America), we have been busy searching and researching high and low, busy forming hypothesis on what will happen within the up-coming months.

Now the keen readers might have deduced that we were only interested in the name and not anything else—for yours truly have sampled it way back on the second week of July and lived with it for a whole day, silently and carefully observing its sillage and diffusion. In fact when the Russian Elle made the announcement two weeks ago it was merely a confirmation of what we have secretly known for months.

The intrigue started on an unassuming Saturday, July 9 to be exact. Elena received a short message from me (for privacy reasons details of day have been modified):

"I just came back home feeling very intrigued because a very chic young lady I know was wearing a fragrance I simply couldn't identify. For hours it was driving me insane: It smelled fantastic on her, but I just couldn't name it! My first guess was 31 rue Cambon, but I know the Chanel has more ‘gras’ and a bit more pronounced black pepper. After 2 hours I finally had the courage to ask her what she was wearing. Turned out she was wearing the latest Christian Dior, yet to be on the market—she got it as a gift. Now, she was too elegant to name drop..."

Surely we all have moments which a story is at the tip of the tongue, knowing how frustrating it is to name that fragrance, the music we’ve just heard or that book we have just enjoyed. But to name a fragrance that is not out on the market? I now know why the antagonists in Russian folklores often ask their subjects to find the thing I do not know as one of their cruel tasks!

The fragrance itself was not hard to figure out on the other hand. As I communicated to Elena within the same message:

"I can tell you that the new Dior fragrance, if the news can be verified, is a modern chypre and a kissing cousin (and I do mean kissing cousin) of Chanel 31 rue Cambon with pronounced patchouli, orris, incense (my money is on frankincense), musks (I sensed ambrette and modern musk effects), and spices (definitely black pepper, but more complex as well) with a stable and sustained development and a very work-appropriate sillage. Not a lot of citrus, but neither is Rue Cambon. The only thing that I consider an improvement is the patchouli and the black pepper facets are slightly more nuanced than 31, which is sharper. The orris used in this Dior is not as obvious. I observed the fragrance for hours and the smell is an engineered marvel, as it did not waiver a bit throughout the duration".

Even until now, months after sampling it, the scent of Patchouli Impérial still floats comfortably on my mind, steady as a diver’s back, delicately forceful as the gaze of a Nubian woman. Its structure concise, its proportions disciplined. Looking at the official notes I now can recognize how the Sicilian mandarin modifies the Calabrian bergamot, almost hidden with the piquant smoothness of Russian coriander seeds—all could have easily gone unnoticed but they are there, interesting second glances. Now of course the patchouli is decidedly present—the Indonesian variety, mind you, having a slight pungent, crisp green characteristic—but hardly a solifolia at all. Rather the patchouli used here is a context, straddled between the bergamot and the musk, creating a modern chypre effect, and, when paired with the sharp cedarwood (Atlas, not the Virginia variety, would be my vote) and sandalwood (most definitely a convincing replica for costs and conservation purposes)...the effect isn’t too far from, again, Chanel 31 rue Cambon in my humble opinion.

I am in no means to suggest or to imply that the juice of the venerable, contemporary Chanel classic somehow accidently slipped into the analytical lab of Parfums Dior, nor I am in any position to suggest François Demachy, who authored Patchouli Impérial, of imitating the work of Jacques Polge and Christopher Sheldrake. Yet Monsieur Demachy’s tenure at Chanel is fairly evident with the latest Dior composition, injecting an abstract richness into the realm of Dior fragrances while carefully editing the existing Dior archive. All this cannot be coincidental.

Still, here's another million dollar question: What’s with the lateral lineage when Dior and Chanel are originally supposed to stand for almost opposite views on luxury?

Many avid readers of Perfume Shrine will no doubt have read Elena’s less than optimistic review of the latest Dior commercial, how stars of the bygone era like Grace Kelly, Marlene Dietrich and Marilyn Monroe—the last being forever linked to Chanel No. 5, no less—have been used to advertise J’Adore. Interesting to note that Dior did not hire anyone to play dress up: All of the bygone stars are brought back using CGI technology. Dior, in short, is re-editing its history much like what Coco Chanel did throughout her life.

Let’s consider that facts here: In order to raise its competitive advantage LVMH, the mother ship of Dior, needs to grow by making commercial acquisitions. (LVMH's latest acquisition of Bulgari is yet another stern reminder.) Yet in the current economic environment the few remaining worthy brands are, in the case of Hermès, rarely available aside from a minority stake. And in the case of Chanel the shares are 100% unavailable, having owned by only the Wertheimers. All of which in private equity.

So what would you do if you were Bernard Arnault, the chairman and CEO of the French conglomerate LVMH if owning a stake in Chanel is not very possible within the immediate future? Given the choices I would have done exactly what he did: hiring the former Chanel deputy perfumer, imitating its legacy. It’s nothing personal, just business.

(On the flip side why is Chanel being content on being commercially competent when Dior is nipping at its heels, especially given the recent releases such as N°19 Poudré? That’s honestly not for me to answer at this space—but certainly begs the question, no?)

What strikes me as interesting with the latest l’offre is the dialogue between Polge and Demachy, almost a perfumery development process ~Jacques creates an essai olfactif while Demanchy suggests the possibilities of the theme. To comment, to reflect. I think if one approaches from this perspective this fragrance will be interesting.

But all that aside the bottom line to me, of course, is that now I cannot smell this fragrance without thinking of the lovely young girl who introduced me to this scent. She was wearing a navy print flouncing chiffon mini-skirt on that day, cut to perfection just right above the knees. Fantastic legs and just a great pair of strappy leather sandals. A beautifully cut solid black top, with impeccable silken shoulder-length hair and almost perfect manicure. Funny how I remember people when they have a way with fragrance.

Christian Dior Patchouli Impérial is created by perfumer François Demachy and contains notes of: Sicilian mandarin, Calabrian bergamot, Russian coriander, Indonesian patchouli, cedarwood and sandalwood essence. It’s the latest addition to the upscale La Collection Couturier Parfumeur Christian Dior line and is available for order at Dior boutiques worldwide and the official website. Patchouli Impérial is marketed for women, although as a patchouli fragrance it can be used as unisex under the appropriate context.

Availability & official info on the Dior site.


Ofra Haza singing Elo Hi (Canto Nero) by Goran Bregovic (who mixed for the occasion Serbian band Bijelo Dugme's original song "Te Noci Kad Umrem Kad Odem Kad Me Ne Bude")
Arabian Eyes 2 by GayfruitBonB on deviantART

Miriam: The Fragrant Story part3

“From the Desk of Miriam Masterson”, year 1969  

Father is a minor player in our home life. Mother always seems to me to be
the star. Father is a recurring character with an extended walk on role. He
seems to know what mother needs and makes sure that she has it. This all
takes almost no communication whatsoever, as if they can read each other’s
minds. Years later, it will occur to me that mother’s needs weren’t being
met at all, that she was possibly pretty unhappy, maybe even something like
miserable, certainly unfulfilled, and only seemed to be content because
she’d mastered the art of looking that way.

As a child, I think that my parents must do all their talking behind closed
doors. Their scenes together take place off stage: in the bedroom, or downstairs,
in the den, once I’ve gone to sleep. At dinner, mother tells me to sit
up straight, paying serious attention to the way I chew my food, the way I
look, the way I speak. She seems to know what I’m thinking, verbalizing
my insecurities.

Tension runs from her place at the table to mine. Father reads the paper,
or watches the TV. Something very important is always in the paper or on
the TV and one of the very first things I learn in life is that when father is
watching TV he must never under any circumstances be distracted or
interrupted in any way. I must be nine or ten, and we’re sitting there at the
table, and father is chewing as he watches something on TV - possibly the
news - and without taking his eyes off the screen he compliments mother on
her perfume. It’s as if he’s talking out loud to himself.
Sometimes, mother and I go to the department store together, which is like
a movie set, complete with backdrop displays, extras, and intersecting
intrigues. The smiling mannequins are dressed like mother and could be
her stand-ins. At the perfume counter, I search the bottles for anything
that looks like the one mother has at home, while she chats theatrically with
the sales associates. She acts as if she knows them, asking about their
families, complimenting them on their outfits. She knows everyone in their
families by name. She knows the ages of their children and remembers
their accomplishments and activities. She’s so friendly, so sociable, that I
barely recognize her.

In this alternate universe, she’s the picture of happiness. Her laughter
spreads around her infectiously, and I find myself laughing too, without
really knowing the script. The mall is full of women, and all of them smell
like perfume. The only man I see is the owner of the place, who emerges
from a doorway every so often, standing in the background, watching our
interaction. He acts as if he’s orchestrated the conversation, as if he’s the
director, but to me he seems peripheral, as if he’s been shut out of the scene.

If you missed part 1 and part 2, just click the links.  

photo via www.annmagnuson.com 

Savouring Whiskey Components by Exploring a Scent Kit

“One of the things I find most frustrating about the way whisky is described is the level of parochialism with the terminology used - things like ‘peaty’ or ‘Christmas cake’ don’t really mean anything to an audience where peat doesn’t exist, or where there’s no such thing as a Christmas cake”.

Thus muses Roja Dove, the creator of the Harrod's Haute Perfumerie who collaborated with David Cox, director of brand education at The Macallan, producing The Macallan Aroma Box, a collection of 12 scents that help whisky drinkers identify the olfactory highlights in the distiller’s range of products. The Aroma Box looks a lot like a perfumery education scent kit, full of phials with individual "notes" or "bases" so as to acquaint oneself with the different ingredients that go into fragrances.
In this scent kit, the first 6 scents showcase the more common characteristics of whisky, arranged in pairs of opposites so as to provide an education by contrasts to the nose. The next 6 phials represent Dove’s interpretation of the essential sensory character of The Macallan matured in Spanish oak, sherry seasoned casks and American oak casks, seasoned with both sherry and bourbon, thus experiencing how wood affects the colour, flavour and fragrances of the finished product.

Candice Baker, will present The Aroma Box, at The Macallan Maturation Zone during this year’s FNB Whisky Live Festival, which is taking place in Cape Town and Johannesburg in November 2011. [Cape Town International Convention Centre from 2 – 4 November (18h00 to 22h00 daily) and at the Sandton Convention Centre, from 9 – 11 November (18h00 – 22h00 daily)].

Serge Lutes De Profundis: fragrance review & draw

If Charles Baudelaire or Oscar Wilde (pleading with Lord Alfred Douglas from within his jail) are references both in plain view in the new Serge Lutens fragrance De Profundis, and they themselves relied on this, their posthumus reputation might be rather lacklustre. Whether it is fatigue or overfamiliarisation, the olfactory seraglio at Palais Royal has began showing signs of tiredness, despite the vivid, novel colour of the latest perfume which shines in its beautiful bell jar like a bright amethyst. You can almost hear the cry of the 130th Psalm "De Profundis Clamavi Ad Te, Domine" for all the drama in front of your eyes! Sadly, experiencing the fragrance by one's nose is underwhelming, after such build-up, promising the scent of death, no less.  
De Profundis is a piercing, sharp, dusty and at the same time aldehydic "clean" floral that petters out to woods and a little fruity violet, rather than the dark, dangerously sexy or earthy, medieval scent suggested by its apothecarial look.

Just take a look at the official ad copy (or skip it), composed in the usual cryptic style which reveals less than it suggests:

"When death steals into our midst, its breath flutters through the black crepe of mourning, nips at funeral wreaths and crucifixes, and ripples through the gladiola, chrysanthemums and dahlias.

If they end up in garlands in the Holy Land or the Galapagos Islands or on flower floats at the Annual Nice Carnival, so much the better!

What if the hearse were taking the deceased, surrounded by abundant flourish, to a final resting place in France, and leading altar boys, priest, undertaker, beadle and gravediggers to some sort of celebration where they could indulge gleefully in vice? Now that would be divine!

In French, the words beauty, war, religion, fear, life and death are all feminine, while challenge, combat, art, love, courage, suicide and vertigo remain within the realm of the masculine.

Clearly, Death is a Woman. Her absence imposes a strange state of widowhood. Yet beauty cannot reach fulfilment without crime. The chrysanthemum is the sole pretext for writing these lines.

Turning grave sites held in perpetuity over to Life – a familiar of these haunts – the chrysanthemum invites Death to leave the cemetery and offer us its flower. De Profundis clamavi." [translation by Fragrantica]

But how did we get to here? L'Eau Serge Lutens seems like a seperate entity in the canon, both in context and in smell, and for that reason was given leniency, even if it alienated much of the fan base; and while Boxeuses conversely recycled the familiar in a most pleasant way, I was rather hesitant into jumping for a full bottle of Serge's last, violent and incongruous release, Vitriol d'Oeillet. This was a first. Not jumping up & down for De Profundis, later on, sounded like sacrilege! But the expectations were set too high: Baudelaire is too much of a decadent aesthete to reference with impunity; Eros & Thanatos has been explored as an idea by scholars for millenia; and a scentscape inspired by death is a risky bet ~ the church has the patent down pat after all. Lutens took the All Saints tradition of taking chrysanthemums (autumnal flowers) to graves and span it into composing a floral that would get inspired by death.

 De Profundis olfactorily resembles a dusty, powdery yet sharp scent of herbal tea and flowers, with a smattering of honeysuckle, lily of the valley and greenish notes (green jasmine, green lily) on top; not melacholic chrysanthemums promised by the ad copy, but rather the aftermath of the funeral, despite the closeness with the autumn blossom.
What is more unexpected is that the bouquet of green floral notes very soon gives way to a "blanched" soapy musk resembling Galaxolide (but not quite! what is it?), and aldehydic nuances, reminiscent of the worst memories of L'Eau Serge Lutens and at the same time like bottled light, ozonic, lifting upwards and upwards...like a soul to the light?
Whereas the soapy concept was thick as thieves with the humorous, ironic allusion to "clean" in L'Eau as a sign of defiance in an era when perfume connoisseurs are embalming themselves in thick resins, stinky florals or bitter pharmaceutical-worthy oud notes to prove their mettle, in De Profundis the trick doesn't quite work again: The synthetic feel of the powdery note is far off the luxurious iris of Bas de Soie (which still denoted a classy sexiness) and at the same time it lacks the nuanced greyness of the majestic and unsurpassable Iris Silver Mist. Amidst it all, a fruity scent surfaces, enhanced by alpha methyl ionone (a recognisable violet note), giving a mildly sweetish, pleasant backdrop which bears a hint of familiarity with the previous Lutens fragrances. Although seemingly a loud perfume upon spraying, in its rather screechy projection upon first spray, De Profundis mellows into a soft woody skin scent which doesn't last as -usually- expected.

Evaluating a Lutens creation in less than stellar terms leaves me with a certain disillusionment, which is painful to experience. For more than 15 years, Lutens used to instantly transport me into imaginary travels atop a magic carpet which seemed to continuously unfold new motifs, to lull me into a reverie that united the mysticism of the East with the classiness and chic of the West. Perched, as I am, between two worlds, from a geographical point of view, this unison spoke deeply to my soul. I'm hoping that the line will find again its axis, but with dearest Serge reaching 70 it looks like it is a precarious, foreshadowing prospect and I find myself sitting on a church pew like a kid, confused with the world and eager to catch at straws...

Official notes for Serge Lutens De Profundis: chrysanthemum, dahlia, lily, violet, earthy notes.

Serge Lutens De Profundis comes in the familiar bell jar bottles of Eau de Parfum available only in Paris at Les Salons de Palais Royal (It's part of the exclusive line), 75ml for 120 euros. This year there will be two limited edition engraved bottles which cost significantly (significantly!) more (We're talking upwards of 1000 euros here): there will be only 7 of each bottle design for sale, reportedly.

For our readers, 2 samples of De Profundis, out of my own stash, will be given. Tell us, what would you like to smell in a "death perfume"?



Movie still of Haley Joel Osment in The Sixth Sense by M.Night Shyamalan, Music set to the psalm 130 Arvo Pärt