Ormonde Jayne Nawab of Oudh: fragrance review

I remember walking around an exhibition on Moghul India at the British Museum, resplendent in the opulence we associate with this particular region and time. The curlicued rupees bearing intricate names alongside triangular flags, ears of wheat and fishes were not strictly limited to Moghul rule, the curator explained; the Nawabs had seized control of their own regions by that time, issuing their own coins, but continuing to cajole the Mughal emperor by keeping his name on the currency. Similarly the latest India-inspired Ormonde Jayne fragrance, Nawab of Oudh, draws upon two different wells: the silk Banarasi saris of India, with their Moghul motifs and their heavy gold work, on one hand and the mystic Muslim tradition of roses and oud resin rising in the air from a censer at the mosques of Persia on the other.

Source: Uploaded by user via Melissa on Pinterest

Understandably, given those references, the perfume smells the way a metallic brocade looks: lush, rich, opulent, draped for elegance. But the artistry of perfumer Geza Schoen makes it modern and wearable too. Despite the by now tired trope of "oudh",  the note so often smelling more like a pack of Band-Aids than the exotic resin obtained by the pathological secretion of the Aquilaria tree when attacked by a fungus, there is none of that contemporary nonsense in Nawab of Oudh. There is a powdery, soft like cat's paws, ambery trail in the drydown, reminding me of Private Collection Amber Ylang (E.Lauder), which envelops the higher notes of green-citrusy brilliance into a cradle of plush. The distinction between phases (drawing upon the classical pyramid structure of perfumes) is here apparent, at least in a binary pattern: the introduction is distinctly separate from the prolonged (really impressively prolonged) phase of the drydown. In essence we have the interplay of raspiness and velvety softness, aided by the texture of the rose. Oud-laced roses have become a dime a dozen lately in niche perfumery, but I will withhold a place in my heart of Nawab of Oudh because it's so extraordinarily beautiful indeed.

And the name? How did it evolve and how does it unite those two worlds, India and the Middle East? Awadh or Oudh was a prosperous and thickly populated province of northern India (modern Uttar Pradesh), its very name meaning "capital of Lord Rama", the hero of the Ramayana epic. Its turmoiled history began with becoming an important province of the Mughal empire, soon establishing a hereditary polity under Mughal sovereignty; but as the power of the Mughals diminished, the province gained its independence. The opulence in the courts of the Nawabs (ruler kings of the Awadh, originating from a Persian adventurer called Sa'adat Khan) and their prosperity were noticed by the British East India Company, resulting in their direct interference in internal political matters, which reached its zenith in the eventual total loss of power by the Nawabs in 1856.

The official info on the scent by Ormonde Jayne runs thus: "Nawab (Ruler) of Oudh is a province of central India. Our perfume is inspired by the Nawabs who once ruled over it. It is a potent blend of amber and rose with a soft oudh edge. Yet surprisingly not one ingredient stands out from the others. It achieves a perfume synergy that defies traditional analysis, releasing a pulsating pungency, brooding and hauntingly beautiful, a rich tapestry of fascinating depths, a jewelled veil to conceal its emotional complexity and extravagance."

Notes for Nawab of Oudh:
Top: green notes, bergamot, orange absolute, cardamom, aldehyde.
Heart: rose, magnolia, orchid, pimento, bay, cinnamon, hedione.
Base: ambergris, musk, vetiver, labdanum, oudh.

Nawab of Oudh along with the rest of the "Four Corners of the Earth" collection by Ormonde Jayne, inspired by Linda Pilkington's travels, is exclusive to the London Ormonde Jayne boutiques at 12 The Royal Arcade and 192 Pavillion Road and at the Black Hall perfumery at Harrods.

Serge Lutens La Fille de Berlin: fragrance review

Much as Serge has always dwelled in the aesthetes of the 19th century, if there is one art movement of the 20th century which would reflect his innermost demons that would be German expressionism; the intensity of the play of light & shadow on the silver screen is a metaphor for the battle of good and evil. La Fille de Berlin, cool, powdery rose spiked with spices, and the latest Lutens fragrance in the canon, reflects the struggle of a soft feminine flower with the naughtiness of animalic winks; the two faces of Eve, which had fully prepared me to expect a Metropolis-rising Lang vision, real and artificial blurring. But I soon found out that Serge was influenced by Josef von Sternberg and his classic Der blaue Engel instead, not strictly in the genre but smack-down in the midst of it in 1930.

artwork by Alexey Kurbatov via artonfix.com

 

She's a rose with thorns, don't mess with her.
She's a girl who goes to extremes.
When she can, she soothes; and when she wants ... !
 Her fragrance lifts you higher, she rocks and shocks.
 ~Serge Lutens

German Expressionism never left us, really. The angular, shadowed architectural specimens encountered in places like New York City, reflected in the fantastical Gotham of the Batman series, and the numerous homages to emblematic leitmotifs of the movement, such as in the films of Burton, Proyas and -to a lesser degree- Allen, merely prove that the juxtaposition of light & shadow (a more schematic carry-over from the chiaroscuro of the Masters) is as relevant today as it ever was. After all, humans are a mix of the two, aren't they? More apropos, Serge Lutens might be making a cultural commentary of our times, right in the heart of the melting pot that is modern Europe: much as Siegfried Kracauer's study "From Caligari to Hitler" examines the trajectory from this strained, anguished cinema images of the Weimar Republik to Nazi Germany, today's world in crisis with the darkness prevailing in fashion & design might be a reflective prologue to an even darker, more sinister era. Respectable professors turning into ridiculed and despaired madmen, the light of the blond hair of Siegfried eclipsed.
Let's hope not, but it's a poignant and potent omen nevertheless.

The metallic opening in La Fille de Berlin fragrance predisposes for the treatment withheld for rose in Rive Gauche by Yves Saint Laurent; chilling and distant, as if hailing from the tundra. But give it a few minutes in the warmth of a Blue Angel's skin, hot off the beckoning performance on the stage, and it turns into the softest, velvety rose with a cardamom impression and the tartness of a hint of raspberry. But even warmer things hide in the background with an intimate and dirty musk and civet allusion (so very familiar in the Lutens opus) surfacing to wrap things in plush and sex.

Those who have found Sa Majeste la Rose too green-fruity for their tastes and his Rose de Nuit marvelously creuscular but too elusive, would find a good ally in La Fille de Berlin. I find it more feminine than shared, but if like Serge himself, oh gentle man you're of the "perfume is a celebration" frame of mind, you might want to try it out for yourself.

Poll: Worst Perfume Ever!

I haven't really had a ready post for today (well, not the way I like them to be) as I had my hands so full of things to do, but I wanted to draw your attention to a very very interesting discussion I came across on another board where people discuss the "worst perfume ever!". Apparently sacred monsters of our fragrant universe (such as the famous Tubereuse Criminelle by Lutens) and more expected controversial/polarising specimens (Womanity or Angel anyone?) are being mentioned. There are a few factual errors too, but it's nevertheless fascinating to see the responses of what appears to be average folks to our little hobby.

via mycnewsonline.blogspot.com

So an idea of a poll came to me: What do YOU consider the worst perfume? Which criteria do you apply to this judgment? And should we even assess something fragrant on an axiomatic scale like that? (after all, fragrance is conceived to smell rather nice, so "worst" becomes a subjective term)

Let's hear it in the comments section!

Ormonde Jayne Montabaco: Perfume Bottle Giveaway

Ormonde Jayne likes to surprise us with new releases in a sporadic fashion, instead of globering us down the head with continuous output that would have nothing new to say. Her latest exclusive to Harrods and her own London boutiques line, the Four Corners of the World, comprises four scents (Tsarina, Montabaco, Qi and Nawab of Oudh) inspired by her travels around the world. With the help of trusted perfumer Geza Schon the vision becomes beautiful reality. I'm so very excited to share the new scents with you, which we presented to the press in an ultra-glamorous journey aboard the Orient Express (making everyone feel like an Agatha Christie character!) and I promise that reviews are coming up shortly.

In the meantime I am in the happy position to be able to giveaway a traveler atomiser bottle of the exclusive Montabaco for our readers. You can enter the draw wherever you are in the globe (fittingly to the theme!) by entering a comment answering the following question: what would be the place you'd most like captured in a fragrance? Draw is open till Friday midnight and the winner will be announced in the weekend. 

Discontinued Yohji Yamamoto Perfumes Re-issued: Cult Fragrances Back from the Dead

The Yohji Yamamoto line of fragrances came out in the late 1990s and created their own myth, perpendicular to the Japanese designer's fashions. There was Yohji (for women, a fruity with chypre elements by Jean Kerleo in 1996), Yohji Essential (a newer version of the original by Jean Michel Duriez in 1998), Yohji Homme (a spicy woody for men by Jean Michel Duriez in 1999) and then Yohji Yamamoto Femme (a floral fruity by Nathalie Feisthauer in 2004) and Yohji Yamamoto Homme (a woody oriental by J.P Bethouart from 2004).

One among them, Yohji Homme, in particular went down in the guide by Turin & Sanchez as extremely influential, if one goes by the amount of fragrances said to be referencing it (and how fun that according to said verbiage the perfumer Jean Michel Duriez of parfums Patou was inspired by Annick Menardo's licorice segment in her masculine gourmand Lolita au Masculin -supposedly the homage was returned in Menardo's later Body Kouros for YSL).

And then the perfumes were all dropped about 6 years ago when Yamamoto struggled with his creditors to avoid bankruptcy.

The good news is that the dormant line is being re-issued this spring (2013), set to be available in major department stores, in markets such as the U.K., France, Germany, Japan, Ukraine and Russia, as well as Yamamoto boutiques internationally. The first launches will include Yohji Yamamoto Man, Yohji Essential and Yohji Senses (this is a new fragrance). According to Paul Christie, who is the chief executive of Yamamoto Parfums, there are two new Yamamoto fragrances, developed by Givaudan perfumer Olivier Pescheux, in the pipeline and should be out by the end of 2013, with the proviso that they follow the original formulation as closely as possible.
Yohji Homme, that elusive hard-to-find discontinued masculine, is rumoured to relaunch in autumn 2013 in counters stateside. The licence of Yamamoto Parfums is held by the IFD Group.

Whether the compositions will remain the same or there will be a significant revamp was my main gripe (and we have the past history of the re-issue of Laura Biagotti's Venezia to make us a bit hesitant), but surely with such a cult status it would be a misstep to offer something completely different and the PR staff assure me that the new compositions will follow the originals as closely as possible.
[Besides the ingredients do not necessarily lend themselves so casually to the allergens chopping block].

So rejoice and glad that Perfume Shrine is the messenger of such great news!