Valentine's Day Perfume Suggestions

"When I think of flirty scents, I imagine something that combines youthful innocence and purity with a more carnal sophistication. To me, that's what tuberose smells like. It's the Lolita of the fragrance world."

Revisiting some of the older Allure magazine articles I came across this interesting take on scents for Valentine's Day classed by their projected character (sexy fragrances, flirty scents, romantic perfumes, secure etc) by none other than Frederic Malle himself, of Editions des Parfums.

Of particular note is how he classifies tuberose as flirty (rather than femme fatale) and therefore recommends a liberal use of it, something with which many perfume enthusiasts might argue for or against!

Read the whole article here.

Also catch Allure's slideshow (with short descriptions of many fragrances we have reviewed on Perfume Shrine already) of the top 10 Sexiest Fragrances.

painting of Eros & Psyche by Jacques Louis David via wikimedia commons

JLo Glowing: A "Clean" New Fragrance

I had heard Jennifer Lopez giving an interview on american TV (I think it was Larry King?) sometime back whereupon she replied to being questioned about issuing so many fragrances (it was about 10 at the time) "They just keep making me make more!" with a look of mock despair on her face. To which NST yesterday tweeted back to me "and then they keep making her collect the money". True...
Now the fragrance portfolio by none other than the bootylicious ms.JLo and American Idol judge counts no less than 18 fragrances, the latest being Glowing, for the advertising campaign of which JLo shows off lots of glistening skin, encircled in an orgasmic O. Subtle, eh?

According to WWD reportage quoting Lopez "Glowing is such a clean fragrance. That's what I've always been about. I like soapy, clean smells. This is a very woodsy scent. So it's not exactly what I created 10 years ago - it's the evolution of that. At the essence, it's still natural, earthy, clean and real, but a little different side of that. It's the woodsy side of it, which I think is kind of New York-y, darker and sexier."


A darker and sexier "clean". Riiiiiiight. I expect it will smell of honey and concrete (it's the first unrelated stream of consciousness thing that popped into my mind; after all the above quote isn't noted for its coherence or logic, right? It's just PST: "perfume selling talk" ).

Glowing by Jennifer Lopez is a floral woody amber concocted by Jennifer with Givaudan's Calice Becker and Caroline Sabas. (I'm willing to believe JLo was somewhat involved since her first foray into perfume clearly mirrored one of her longtime favourites, China Rain.) It has top notes of bergamot, mandarin and cypress; a heart of orange flower, muguet de bois (aka lily of the valley) and cassia flower, and a drydown of sandalwood, amber, vanilla, vetiver, patchouli and cashmere musk (read: Cashmeran, a popular aromachemical with a smell between wet concrete & wood-musks).

But "darker and sexier clean"? Glow wasn't half dirty either, I should say! Practically a an aldehydic soapy-musky rose with a white floral note thrown in and it made for a HUGE success 10 years ago which brought all the celebitoscent craziness upon us (it's enough for marketeers to see one experiment go well saleswise and then they copy the concept ad infinitum). Jennifer says she hadn't imagined the lasting influence: "You don't think about things like that- when you're creating, you're just in the moment. You're doing it right then for right then. You always hope that things have a lasting impression and you go into it with those types of big thoughts - 'Oh, this could be like Coco Mademoiselle or Chanel No.5!' You aim for that, but you don't really think of it when you're in the moment.'"
Errr, riiiiiiiiight again.

pics via Sassi Sam

Venus, Mars and the Devil's Weed (Datura): a Scented Love Story for Valentine's Day

Officially Sandro Botticell's painting "Venus and Mars" is a story which recounts the omnipotence of love that conquers even the most powerful war. However, new research suggests a daring reading: that behind the image of the blessed love, may in fact be hiding the display of sexuality of plant hallucinogens!

The art historians had overlooked one detail, and it was David Beligkcham, director of the Institute of Art at Sotheby's house who zoomed on it. Looking closely at the satyr on the bottom right part of the painting (click to enlarge), he recognized a fruit that belongs to the species Datura Stramonioum known as "devil's weed" or "devil's trumpet", a plant with a history of hallucinogenicy which induces men and women to take off their clothes and frolick away. The hallucinogenic effects are recorded in ancient Greek texts hence the use of Datura either as an aphrodisiac or as a poison.

The table set out to describe the painting by Boticelli in the National Gallery of England bears the following description: "It is a scene of adultery, since Venus was the wife of Hephaestus, the God of Fire, but it contains a moral message: the power of love to win and to civilize." Beligkcham on the other hand believes that the message is more subversive. "The fruit is offered to the viewer, so it is important intentionally," quoted in The Times. "The Botticelli is keen on plants with symbolic significance. For example, in the back there are laurels, which are references to his supporters, the Medici family whose emblem is the laurel. The Datoura known in America as "a hallucinogen of the poor" reveals the symptoms in the male figure. Inhibit the natural functions and induce excitement, so it makes you want to get undressed. It also makes you swoon. "

Toloache. Náatumush. Datura wrightii. Angel’s trumpet. Devil’s weed. Names in Nahuatl, Luiseño, Latin, and English, respectively, for the sacred datura plant. A plant to make one swoon out of erotic excitement, therefore, perhaps the sexiest Valentine's Day scent of them all!  

There are a few perfumes which are directly inspired by and incorporating datura in their composition: Perfumer Ineke Ruhland makes a sweet and mysterious datura fragrance called Evening Edged in Gold and Serge Lutens also proposes Datura Noir for a more tropical and suede-laced take. Maître Parfumeur et Gantier has Secrète Datura in their line-up, a powdery, elegant take of the herbal tinge of datura allied tovanilla-smelling heliotrope. Other fragrances include Keiko Mecheri's Datura Blanche, White Datura by lluminum Perfume and Green Datura by Voluspa.

The theory regarding the Botticelli painting goes even further as Beligkcham suggests the two figures in the table 15th century painting are not even Mars and Venus, but Adam and Eve, while the plant is none other than a stem from the fruit of the Tree of Knowledge, the very thing that caused their expulsion from Eden; although often referred to as an apple, in the Bible it is not specified exactly. Is datura the elusive element into something even further? You shall be the judge of that.


Datura pic via Deborah Small

Another L'Artisan Parfumeur Discontinuation

Many have lamented the passing of successful fragrances, artistically masterful and commercially popular, and one always wonders why this happens. L'Artisan Parfumeur has its own share of that (I'm still inwardly yielding my fist with rage at the discontinuation of Oeillet Sauvage and Jacinthe des Bois; both lovely, both initially limited editions and then brought into the main line in total uniformity with the rest of the bottles, a move which promised at least a marital contract and then derailed into a custody figh with plates thrown around).

Vanilia which gave its place to Vanille Absolument (or Havana Vanille as the successor was originally launched; it's hard to keep track, but we did announce the discontinuing there on the link first) was the proverbial straw which broke the camel's back. It seemed most uncomprehensible and caused a rucous online.

But now L'Artisan Parfumeur is axing another oldie with a cult following, namely Tea for Two (2000).
I fear for some of the quirkier/slower seller favourites along the line as well (Navegar, L'Eau de Navigateur, Dzing!).

I understand the need for a streamlined line-up and all that, it aids selection, but perhaps a more limited distribution or a special size for collectors or even a seasonal re-issue (like Clinique does with Wrappings every Christmas) would be appreciated by those who dearly love the fragrance in the first place.

Question: Is L'Artisan Parfumeur growing too corporate for its own good?

Lancome La Valee Bleue: vintage fragrance review

La Vallée Bleue from 1943, smack between the Occupation of Paris and the turmoil of WWII, comes in a moment in history rich in intrigue, ravages and the desire to escape them; which was puzzling me when I first discovered it exactly due to its timing. The perfume is also a poignant station in a long line of nowadays largely unknown Lancôme perfumes: the first five with which the firm was established in 1935 by Armand Petitjean -previously manager director at Coty- on occasion of the Brussels Exhibition (Bocages, Conquête, Kypre, Tendres Nuits, Tropiques, alongside Etiquette Noire, Cachet Bleu from the same year), Révolte (1936), Peut-Être (1937 and briefly re-issued in the late 2000s), Gardénia (1937), Flèches (1938), Fête de Paris (1938), Chèvrefeuille (1939) and of course Cuir (the changed name of the original Révolte) also from 1939.

These intermittent years of the war saw not only one, but four Lancome perfumes introduced: Les Oiseaux from 1944 as well as Ange and Lavandes in 1945. There is also La Nativité, briefly issued in 1945, relaunched in 1952 and then discontinued. Perhaps it is our twisted perception of the war-time era which accounts for our perplexment at this.

We tend to either overdramatize the plight, imagining that everything disappeared as if stolen by aliens, or we tend to imagine that the situation was more heroic than it was seeing numerous French resistance fighters where there were instead many collaborators and attendates (people remaining silent, just watching to see what happens). The truth is many commodities, even luxury commodities, continued to circulate, either for those in positions of power (be it the position of conqueror or of black-market profiteer) or for those who could still afford to get them in some way. At a time of strict rationing, women still permed their hair and bought cosmetics to boost their morale. L'Oréal, the famous French company starting in hair-dyes under the brand name Auréole (and who ultimately bought Lancôme out in 1965 after Petitjean's retirement in 1963), was so energetic that even the outbreak of World War II in 1939 failed to curb the company's growth and they continued to produce cosmetics throughout: Oréol, the first cold permanent wave, was introduced in 1945 when the war was drawing to an end. La Valée Bleue isn't totally incogruent with this frame.

The intoduction of Lancôme in the USA after WWII saw a proliferation of perfumes issued: A new trio for 1946: Marrakech, Nutrix and Qui Sait, Bel Automne (1947), Joyeux Eté (1947), Minlys (1949), Magie (1950), Lait des Hesperides (1950), Galateis (1951), Trésor (1952), Eau de Senteur de Lancôme (1952), Plaisir (1952), Grâces du Printemps (1952), Envol (1952), Seul Tresor (1955), Flèches D'Or (1957), Lancôme d'Abord (1958), Fêtes de l'Hiver (1959) all the way to Climat by 1967, which was introduced under the new ownership.

The scent of La Valée Bleue was not languishing though, as attested by the fact that it used to circulate in antique French coffrets including 4 Lancôme perfume bottles: Conquête, La Vallée Bleue, Bocages, Tendres Nuits. One alonside the 1935 classics, so to speak. Someone was buying this stuff regularly to make it popular enough, if it formed part of a selection to be offered as a gift.

La Valée Bleue smells like a vintage, but not necessarily too dated, too dark or thick and somewhat musty as some of the old perfumes do. The freshness of the composition, which rested on lime and lemon essences, refreshing with winey rosy terpenic nuances on a bed of herbaceous, cooling lavender, light amber and sandlwood, gave the perfume a character that is not contrasted too sharply with today's sensibilities. Sensibilities which demand a balance of fresh and warm, a balance between emotional and reserved. Even though the lavender is central in the plot, the fragrance smells like a composite mosaic in the SanVitale basilica in Ravenna rather than the central theme in a kid's 10-piece puzzle. Obviously the ravages of time and war have burnished some of the sheen of the vintage I have tried, so it's difficult to pinpoint exactly what goes into it. The general feel however is one of innocent nostalgia and mystery, reinforced by the landscape-evocative name and the timing of this elusive Lancôme perfume.

Pics thanks to the generosity and assistance of Lovelyhazel/MUA & her photographing husband. All copyright is theirs. Used here with permission.