JoAnne Bassett Enchant Parfum: a Brave New Scent review

When autumn and winter weather takes its toll, there is a not so perverse pleasure into getting out the lush florals and the green scents from behind the screen and the books, and in pretending it's late spring all over again. In that frame of mind I spent this past weekend re-testing Enchant Parfum by all-naturals artisanal perfumer JoAnne Bassett.

Enchant was part of the Brave New Scents Project of the Natural Perfumers Guild, which we tackled here on Perfume Shrine a while ago. The perfumer claims to have composed this in a sort of epiphany, or rather "the poetry guided me into what to choose" (A.Huxley was the inspiration behind the project), but I think composing a fragrance with such contrasting notes takes more than just random luck. The happy scent of Enchant reminds me of JoAnne's favourite quote by Ralph Waldo Emerson: “ Happiness is a perfume you cannot pour on others without getting a few drops on yourself. ”. It's no wonder she's residing at Cardiff by the Sea in California. The sunny skies and the lush surroundings around her can't but inspire an embracement of nature, even as she focuses on French-inspired scents with accompanying names recently, like Versailles, Madame Pompadour, Petit Trianon, Marie Antoinette, Josephine, Napoleon and Malmaison...

Enchant is full of zesty aromas, natural lavender with its camphoraceous top note, very lush rose and jasmine on a bed of hypnotic florals. It oscillates between a sweetish, liqueur-like character (thanks to both rose and davana) and woody camphor, which makes it...well, interesting! It's difficult to classify conventionaly, as I smell both herbal/aromatic and floriental elements in it at the same time; it's quite complex, though it's clear we're talking about a unified composition, not a thing that breaks apart on the blotter within minutes (the bane of several artisanal perfumes). Like I said, I get mostly the camphoraceous-spicy scents (basil, lavender, patchouli), the woody murky (lots of vetiver to my nose) and the floral (lots of rose coupling with pink pepper that compliments it, champaca which is sweeter and jasmine which is extra sweet). This collage gives an uplifting effect, optimistic, and I admit that I didn't expect lavender to give me such apositive reaction: usually I find it either too fake (more vanilla than lavender, as in many functional products or "soothing" products) or straight-out medicinal out of the straight essential oils aromatherapy shelf. Here it's neither, hallelujah!
JoAnne talks a lot about how she gave a spiritual twist by choosing the oils and essences that go into it, but I find Enchant Parfum smells good no matter if you're into getting yourself in a pretzel-shape and humming Ommmm as your mantra or not; it just works!

Enchant is parfum concentration (36% compound) and it shows in its projection and tenacity. The photo on top depicts a limited edition crystal blown flacon for the parfum; I absolutely adore this photo taken by JoAnne Bassett herself and the presentation (notice those tiny bubbles)!

Notes for Enchant Parfum by JoAnne Bassett:
Rose de Mai absolute – the May Rose, expensive and rare oud or agarwood, sandalwood, exotic and costly osmanthus, sacred champaca and holy basil, yuzu, orange esences, butter co2, musky ambrette seed, davana, pink pepper tree, and high altitude lavender, the green note of galbanum, sensual jasmine auriculatum, copaiba balsam, vanilla tincture, and the dark and rich ruh khus vetiver, and dark patchouli in an organic jojoba oil base.

According to the perfumer, the oils that correspond to the Huxley quote are:

I want God: holy basil, oud, champaca,
I want poetry: osmanthus,
I want danger: vetiver, patchouli,
I want freedom: orange essences, yuzu,
I want goodness: rose, jasmine,
I want sin: ambrette seed
  
For more info, please visit the JoAnne Bassett site. 
You can also visit her blogs: Aromatic Journeys and JoAnne Bassett

Top photo by JoAnne Bassett, used with permission. Bottom photo by Margot Carrera

Loulou de la Falaise Klossowski: 1948-2011

The muse of Yves Saint Laurent, the designer of his eponymous jewels and her own jewellery & accessories line (Maison de Loulou) is no longer with us, after her battle with a long-protracted disease. She left her last breath on Saturday, November 5th at the age of 63.

Loulou's mother and a major influence, Maxime de la Falaise, was an English model and socialite who married a French count. Loulou met Yves in that social milieu in the mid-1960s. Instead of her being intrigued by him, he was mesmerized by her style, her eyes, her figure and her attitude.They quickly became joined at the hip, re-writing couture history together. After Yves's death in 2008, they're now re-united at last...
Her style will continue to inspire me and thousands of women across the world. 

Photo of Loulou de la Falaise in YSL shirt & jewels by Ali Madhavi via antimonide.com
Loulou de la Falaise smoking in YSL fashions, via blog.stylesight.com

Le Labo Musc 25: fragrance review

Musc 25 by niche outfit Le Labo reminds me of The Body Shops' White Musk, more than I'd care to admit for something super-exclusive (only Los Angelitos are privy to it) going for a matching pricey tag: The squeeky, almost white-snow reflective cap of citrusy-rosy aldehydes and the laundered scent of lily of the valley on top, underscored by the familiar sweet warmth of synthetic musks, creates an effect of radiant, well-meaning, inviting vibes all around, but with a slightly mysterious touch too. Le Labo advertises it as a "dirty, sexual, decadent" musk with "the devil itself" included; colour me utterly dumbfounded! Have they smelled Miller Harris (gorgeous) L'Air du Rien or the (ultra cuddly, ultra controversial) Muscs Koublaï Khan by Lutens? [If you don't know the first thing about the distinction between clean and dirty musks, refer to this link]. That's not to mean that Musc 25 is bad, because it's not, as long as one knows what to expect.

Musk is suich a misunderstood word anyway, since most people have never smelled natural deer musk to begin with.What IS "musky"? To many it means "heavy, dense, opressive", to others "oily & unwashed", to some it stands for what perfumery jargon categorises as "mossy", to others still it bears a "cheap" association through long familiarisation with drugstore musks. Perfume vocabulary is unchartered territory to the general audience. So many "musk" fragrances on the market (drugstore too) are mixes more than single note explorations as well. I guess the only way is for you to make things clearer for yourself is to check out our Scented Musketeers Series on musk perfumes and grab some samples to explore for yourself.

Le Labo Musc 25, created by perfumer Frank Völkl, is a likeable sweetish, refined and mostly "clean musk", yet without spike-in-the-head harshness, nor soapy smelling (Many white musks come off as "soapy"). It's billowy, soft (a little powdery), wide-eyed and rather fond of trashy novels kept under the bed. She (or he, but it's mostly a "she" vibe in attitude, if not in smell) gets them out and masturbates to them when the parents are away, playing Under the Bridge in the background, the melodious bass reverberating off the poster-collaged walls.
Apart from the best-selling White Musk referenced (the old, better version), Musc 25 also has some elements of Ava Luxe's Love's True Bluish Light; namely the vanillic sweetness and the slightly ozonic quality that provides an instant electrifying freshness. This kind of synthetic musks is what accounts for "the magic moment" upon opening the machine after using fabric softener and dryer sheets; a primary selling point for those products. Vetiver in small amounts pairs well with synth musks (witness its pairing with Galaxolide in Trésor, to which Musc 25 shares a peachy mini-facet), accounting for more than the sum of its parts.
The trail left by Le Labo's Musc 25 is lightly ambery and quite tenacious indeed; LA tanned legs, as my friend The Non Blonde puts it. My main objection is ~like with Clair de Musc by Lutens~ that there are refined musks in lower price points as well.

According to the official blurb:

"Musc 25 is Le Labo’s LA exclusive scent. Why you ask ? Because genderless angels have to be tempted into the smell of life. Musc 25 is white, angelic, very musky and aldehydic, and so intensely luminous that you will need to wear shades to approach it. Yet despite all this heavenly white, it’s core is somber, devilishly dark, so much so that it wakes up your inner demons that are anchored in sin and in animalic notes that are sensual, sexual, and decadent. Its altar is made of vetiver, ambergris, more musc, and more civet and of the devil itself. Enjoy the ride of L.A 25, oops, we meant Musc 25."

Apparently they also claim to have developed a synthetic named X that imitates the pheremone induced by smelling..drumroll..sperm! (Supposedly that creates an aphrodisiac effect; please forget for a second the horror of Sécrétions Magnifiques, no relation.) Something doesn't quite compute for me in that, not least because sperm has a bleachy, citrusy magnolia smelling segment in there by itself when fresh. In that regard the combination of citrusy sparkly aldehydes, ozonic touches and lily of the valley is more acurate than muscenone, vetiver, patchouli, civet or ambergris. I guess there is an integral sense of irony in the best jokes anyway.   

Le Labo Musc 25 has fragrance notes of: aldehydes, lily of the valley, rose absolute, vetiver, cedar, patchouli, ambergris, musc, and civet.



Le Labo Musc 25 is a Los Angeles exclusive retailing at $290 for 50ml, but only for the month of November it is globally available at Luckyscent and on the official Le Labo site.
The Los Angeles Le Labo boutique is at 8385 W. 3rd St., Los Angeles, (323) 782-0411

Disclosure: I was sent a sample by the company for reviewing purposes. 

Diptyque Epinette, Perdigone & LE Winter 2011 Candle Coffret: Gifts for the Season

Diptyque, as regular as a clock, prepares winter gifts and treats for the home and your loved ones. For winter 2011 and the upcoming holidays, they have prepared two new candle scents, Epinette and Perdigone, and a limited edition mini candles coffret for collectors.

Echoing the aromatic freshness of its needles and the resinuous notes of its pine cones, Epinette, the Spruce Tree, is a green-hued candle which promises a wintry runaway in the depths of the woods. (68$ for 6.5oz or 32$ for 2.4oz)

For Perdigone, a concentrate of warm and fruity notes, clustered around a spiced plum, perfumes the house mouthwateringly. Absolutely comforting in the depths of winter. (68$ for 6.5oz or 32$ for 2.4oz)





The limited edition Winter 2011 mini-candles coffret by Diptyque contains three scented candles with spicy and woody notes: The familiar warmth of the Wood fire (Feu de Bois), the aromatic freshness of Pine (Pin), and the festive and spicy notes of Pomander (Pomander).
3 x 2.4oz candles retail for 84$ in a specially designed coffret.

Guerlain Vere Novo: fragrance review of the extremely rare & vintage

"All is mystery; but he is a slave who will not struggle to penetrate the dark veil". Benjamin Disraeli's quote rings in my ears each time I try to apply my scientific skills into unravelling a perfumery puzzle: The who, the what, the when, the where, the intricasies tied into the interaction between these parameters; each time they create their own small district. Far from pontification, the work on Perfume Shrine aims to reconnoiter, to probe, to create sparks that will lead to personal explorations and a new way of thinking. Imagine the gluttony in my eye upon hitting on a rare specimen, the pearl beyond compare, the diamond in the pile of coal; it's a dirty job, but someone's got to do it, right? Out of the blue, one such thing came rapping, rapping at my chamber door: Vere Novo by Guerlain. 

Arguably the most beautiful of French perfume houses (certainly the most prolific one), Guerlain, since its foundation in 1828 on the Rue du Rivoli, has produced over 800 perfumes, creating a unique trajectory in history. Beautiful, evocative, dreamy, obscure names litter the catalogue, like a queen-bee populating a new hive with frantic pace: Senteurs de Champs (1828), Cyprisine (1894), Le Jardin de mon Curé (1895), Voilà Pourquoi J'aimais Rosine (1900c.), Bon Vieux Temps (1902),Violette à Deux Sous (1902c.), Avril en Fleurs (1905), Vague Souvenir (1912), Mi-Mai (1914), Bouquet de Faunes (1922), Ne M'Oubliez Pas (1923)... We have reviewed on these pages some rarities too: Pour Troubler (1911), Guerlain Djedi (1928), Loin de Tout (1933), Fleur de Feu (1948), , Atuana (1952), or the lush tuberose of Guerlain Marie-Claire...

My own precious sample came through the inquisitive kindness of Liisa of Under the Cupola, whom I trust implicitly. She sourced her own stash through the vast and intricate world of international auctions & splits, so I can't vouch for who the original seller was. (Isn't that true for most decants sourced?). But this thing smells glorious all the same, negating any doubt I might have for its comparatively light colour (the wee shade is close to how Après L'Ondée used to be or Jicky); and it does smell like a Guerlain through and through!

To my nose Vero Novo bears Jacques Guerlain's name (it's exactly contemporary to Le Jardin de mon Curé, both from 1895; though other sources mention it introduced sometime between 1883-1889) and seems to bear traces of both his own themes explored later on in Vol de Nuit and his predecessor's (Aimé Guerlain) in Jicky.

The name comes from Virgil (Georgicorum, libri quator) and translates [J.W.Mackail, 1934] as "in early spring". But to Italians, spring begins on February 7th [Varro, I.28], and Virgil was familiar with the sight of the Alps from childhood, witnessing the earliest sign the gradual melting of snow. To the Guerlain family, the melting of snow is mingled with the cold-warm, cuddly, slightly animalic, slightly leathery scent of the cassie (a richer, muskier variety of mimosa, with violet tendencies complimented by anisic accents and full of farnesol which is terpenic-smelling, i.e. dry piny-woody).
It was in 1869 that heliotropin, a golden standard for Guerlain, was discovered by Filtig & Mielk, its structure analysed two years later (by Barth) and synthesized from safrole in 1890 by Eykmann. Vanillin from guiaicol was synthesized by Reimr and Tiemann in 1874. This was a time in history when the breakdown of many materials created the modern face of perfumery as we know it, almost to this day.

Mingling the imaginary accords with the natural, Guerlain took the plush of civet-smoky vanilla in Jicky and diluted it threefold (watching to bring forth the piperonal in vanilla, but not dusting discernible "powdery notes"), adding what later became the velvet, earthy sheen in vintage Vol de Nuit,  plus some woody resinous citrus-peel notes (bergamot & some petit grain?) with a pine-needles effect (discernible in the opening), thus producing in Vere Novo a great skin scent, full of overall softness and the delicious contrast between fragrance dryness and buttery, sweet tones.
Vere Novo wafts deliciously, mingling the hint of patisserie with a suede note. I caught myself catching my wrists to sniff and question: "Do I smell that good?", more times than I care to admit. I suppose this is part of the classic Guerlain magic: Creating an experience that compliments the wearer's decolletage and mingles with the aroma of culinary pleasures that wrap an evening full of earthy delights.

Vere Novo was being produced by Guerlain from its launch in 1895 till the outbreak of WWII according to most records and official Guerlain text ads (in the form of little stories bearing the names of famous perfumes of the house) that were in circulation during L'Entre Deux Guerres (i.e. the 1920s and 1930s). Meaning it's discontinued and extremely rare to get hold of. The fact that several Guerlain fragrances from that era, such as Shalimar, Mitsouko and L'Heure Bleue (as well as Vol de Nuit) became classics and best-sellers for the French house probably explains the demise of some of the older products, such as this one. Pity and we can mourn to eternity, but there you have it. The surprising pleasure of discovering a diamond within the coal pile however is the perfume historian's not so humble lasting delight.

Related reading on Perfume Shrine: Guerlain series

Illustration: Withered Spring, by Aubrey Beardsley