Prada Luna Rossa: Fragrance Review & On the Modern Urban Male Accord

~by guest writer AlbertCAN

History has a way of repeating itself, though from a pragmatic point of view it isn’t always monotonous. More and more I’m convinced that aesthetically modern perfumery shares a great deal of similarities with arts in the Shakespearean era: it’s not the originality of the subject matter that interests the audience as a whole, but the deliverance of a story or the treatment of the subject matter. After all, before Shakespeare there was Christopher Marlowe; before William’s “Troilus and Cressida” there was Geoffrey Chaucer’s “Troilus and Criseyde”. Likewise before Chanel Coco Mademoiselle there was Thierry Mugler Angel, Narciso Rodriguez For Her before Guerlain Idylle. I am, of course, by no means implying that there’s a modern perfumery equivalent of Shakespeare, Marlowe or Chaucer among us (‘tis not my place to ascertain), nor am I condoning blatant olfactory plagiarism, so unfortunately flooding the market these days. Rather, nowadays it’s all about the paradigm-shifting quarter turns.



Enter Luna Rossa: the latest woody-citrus masculine offering from Prada affirms to me the notion that we, as a civilization, has reached a consensus on the idea of how men of the early 21st century to smell like, so much so that I am terming the olfactory backbone “Modern Urban Male Accord”, or MUMA for short (after the cultural phenomenon “Sensitive Female Chord Progression”). I am by no means implying that Prada Luna Rossa is the archetypical benchmark of the story, but rather a reflection that the world has really reached the critical mass on this front long ago that a proposed cultural moniker is in order.

Prada Luna Rossa, created by perfumer Daniela Andrier and named after the brand’s America’s Cup Challenge team, is supposed to be an “unconventional marine fragrance” featuring lavender. The unconventionality here refers to the novel derivations of ingredients, for instance the mint: the Maroccan Mentha spicata var. crispa Nana, which made its perfumery debut in the blue special edition of Montblanc Legend by Olivier Pescheux. Further, I have observed the following critique on Scent and Chemistry’s facebook page:

Albeit being fresh and minty, spearmint also has a dirty side to it. Leave a blotter with any spearmint oil for a day, and it will smell 'dirty wet cloth' the next morning. This fate is quite a danger in any fragrance heavy on spearmint, but not so in 'Luna Rossa', where the spearmint is softened by vegetal and dusty rose accents, green angelica, and a papyrus/blond woods accord heavy on Iso E Super.

The lavender used is an absolute, though surely further treated after extraction to clear off the burnt-sugar nuance often associated with the material. Then there’s the requisite modern masculine base notes: musk (ambrettolide in this case) and ambergris in the guise of ambrox. The overall effect ticks all the right boxes: fresh, soft, clean and sporty.

How does the fragrance stand in terms of its olfactory genealogy? I would position Prada Luna Rossa to be a kissing cousin of Chanel Allure Homme Édition Blanche, also having an herbal-white musk-ambrox alignment. The mint motif also positions it to be the neighbourhood of Cartier Roadster. In fact, to the readers of this blog I can sum up the genre in three words—contemporary sports cologne—and many shall have a firm grasp of its overall feel and sillage. Thus we have a basic feel of the Modern Urban Male Accord.

Now I know many readers among us may bemoan the examination of the greatest cultural common denominator, but the rationale behind MUMA is worth pondering here. Decades before, when the idea of an ideal gentleman was different, we had the fougères and the chypres. Chanel Pour Monsieur, a fragrance many has considered to be a masculine archetype, is within the same era such as Monsieur de Givenchy. Then Christian Dior Eau Sauvage. Then Calvin Klein Eternity for Men, etc. Years from now, when the tastes of the general public have changed, MUMA would simply be a reference point from the past. This too, as they say, shall pass.

The heart of the matter is that men’s grooming and sartorial trends have always been slow and relatively unyielding in their evolutions. Conformity may be too harsh of a word here, but nowadays most men dress to blend in, not to significantly stand out, to shock. Having fashion retail experience I can report that most men don’t view clothes shopping their ideas of fun, preferring to get what they need in the store and moving on. I think the sociology and the marketing catering to the men is beyond the exploration scope of this article, but if consumers vote their ideas of what a modern man should smell like with their money, based on the recent releases we have a fairly good idea on our perception of MUMA.

Perfumer Jean Guichard once quipped that every good fragrance needs a ‘duo’, meaning the interplay of two contrasting ingredients. It’s a summary on fragrance construction, of course, but an elegant mean of understanding the basic principles nonetheless. As far as I can tell MUMA is the contrast between aromatics (geranium/mint/lavender etc.) with modern fixatives (white musk/modern amber/others). Add dihydromercenol for a fresh laundry effect, generic spice and some metallic nuances. Repackage and repeat.

Needless to say major launches from big houses rely on MUMA not because of its artistic merit, but rather under the cultural and social norms there isn’t a great deal of room to negotiate the artistic direction. Enlightened consumers, however, can choose to layer MUMA in interesting combinations; Prada Luna Rossa, for instance, works very well with Hermes Hiris, as I pleasantly discovered today. (Mint and iris, where have thou been all of my life?) There: a contemporary male fragrance does not need to be monotonous. How it can be used is a far more interesting exploration.

Photo: Prada Luna Rossa via Moody Report

The winner of the draw....

....for the newest Ormonde Jayne bottle is Anon/Marika80 (at yahoo). Congratulations and please email me with your shipping data so I can have this in the mail for you soon.
Sorry for the delay in announcing, folks, I have had my hands full these past few days.

Thanks for the enthusiastic participation and till the next time!

The Different Company Bois d’Iris: Fragrance Review

Yes, this is my copy of Bois d’Iris—right up to the obtuse notch on the top left corner of the box upon yours truly’s overzealous unwrapping—yet in all honestly after a few years I still haven’t figured out a proper place for master perfumer Jean-Claude Ellena’s creation.

~by guest writer AlbertCAN

photo copyright: AlbertCAN (used with permission)

Is it the subject matter? Hardly. Iris is one of my preferred olfactory subjects of exploration. (Apparently so does the US Vogue editor-in-chief Anna Wintour, as the owners of Aedes de Venustas told Chandler Burr: "Dolce and Gabbana came in for a thank-you gift for Anna Wintour. She likes irises, so we loaded her basket with iris candles, iris soaps, iris room sprays, and decorated it with fresh irises.") Could it then be the compositional philosophy? Quite the opposite: many readers of this space and my humble blog would know that I have been a keen observer of Ellena’s aesthetics for years now. The quality of the ingredients is also evident from the first moment to the last, the packaging from The Different Company impeccable. So what makes it just short of being a clincher?

An epiphany striked through upon composing this review: it’s in the name. Bois d’Iris (not to be confused with Van Cleef & Arpel’s subsequent release under its niche Collection Extraordinaire line) is exactly what the title suggests: it’s more of a manifestation of woods within iris.

Let’s not to imply that Ellena skimped on costs here: the pricy iris concrete is used here and its effect is evident. For the purpose of composing this review I have pulled out my batch of iris to compare. Indeed the concrete is at the depth of this work, forming an earthy, damp, slightly tunnelled ambiance at the back end. The iris used in Bois d’Iris creates a smooth and silken effect, while displaying all typical facets of the material: the floral violets, the dark gourmands, the dry woods. And because iris concrete just by itself lacks the diffusional standards for modern perfumery Ellena here has chosen to bolster the material with alpha-isomethyl ionone, a material having a diffusive, powdery impression of violets and its slightly chalkier analogue—you’ve guessed it—iris. At this point I should point out that the duo of iris and alpha-isomethyl ionone also form the backbone of Hermès Hiris, yet whereas Olivia Giacobetti’s composition lightens up the cornerstone with carrot and almond wood, Bois d’Iris veers into another direction.

A few years back I had the fortune of communicating with Octavian Coifan about subtle ways of emphasizing iris within a composition, and he mentioned that vetiver or even cedar would be good options. While Chanel 28 La Pausa, another iris fragrance, has vetiver at its base, Bois d’Iris is firmly in the cedarwood territory. And the heart of the composition is filled with narcissus and aspects of geranium: the rosy geraniol and citronnellol, the woodsy-peppery-floral linalool. Then to complete the composition we have the clove aspect from eugenol, the slight ylang impression from benzyl salicylate and the hay-like depth from coumarin. Limonene, the essential building block of citrus elements, is also present, though I don’t generally consider that to be the main player at all; in fact, the traditional top notes are neither prominent nor emphasized.

Now I don’t know about you, but at this point the above-mentioned notes, in their respective positions, read modern French formal to me—emphasis on the word formal. Don’t get me wrong: like I have previously mentioned the composition integrity is commendable, style consistent with Ellena’s point of view. Yet what comes with its Gallic nature is an authentic air of reservation and formality, more of a silent masculine to Hiris feminine. Reserved, pensive. It’s not to suggest that Bois d’Iris is boring, with the narcissus-eugenol-coumarin axis giving off a slight wine-like nuance and the cedar forming a nice wine-cask resonance. Now I suspect Bois d'Iris knows how to enjoy life, but only tastefully in private.

Overall? Bois d’Iris is something I use from time to time in my own spare time, when I feel like losing myself in a long leisurely read. If I want my holy grail iris I will continue layering Hiris with Persicol.

Parfums MDCI Promesse de l’Aube: Fragrance Review

"With maternal love, life makes a promise at dawn that it can never hold. You are forced to eat cold food until your days end. After that, each time a woman holds you in her arms and against her chest, these are merely condolences. You always come back to yell at your mother’s grave like an abandoned dog. Never again, never again, never again."
―Romain Gary, La Promesse de l'aube (1960)

by guest writer AlbertCAN

There. The mandatory quote from Romain Gary’s La Promesse de l’aube (translated into the English title “Promise at Dawn”), the autobiography which the fragrance is supposedly named after*. I am getting that out of the way because I still cannot—for the life of me—figure out the connection between the book and the fragrance. And I have owned Francis Kurkdjian’s composition for many, many moons.

Yet somehow that’s the beauty of artistic transposition, isn’t it? Ideas attributed to something else altogether. It’s as if one discovers that Luis Buñuel’s psychological sexual liberation Belle de Jour (1967) is actually based on Joseph Kessel’s 1928 thinly veiled cautionary tale of the same title about a young garçonne’s indiscretions and her eventual fall from grace. One story, two completely different tales! Or realizing that Truman Capote’s Holly Golightly takes after Marilyn Monroe in the original 1958 novella, really a kooky gamine who rather explores the whole wide world than resolving her insecurities. (Monroe, in turn, was considered for the starring role in the 1961 cinematic adaptation: her bid, however, pretty much dashed after her demand of getting paid in Tiffany diamonds. The more affordable Audrey Hepburn came into the picture—and becoming the highest paid actress of her time in the process. Much to Capote’s chargrin, however, and understandably he never embraced Hollywood’s vision on his beatnik tale.) Somehow that is the way I have felt about Promesse de l’Aube (2006): probably not exactly what Romain Gary had in mind when describing his youth, but a transcendental beauty in its own right nonetheless.

Parfum MDCI describes Promesse de l’Aube as an oriental floral “pour le jour” (daytime wear), but truth to be told the overall sheen and aura are just shy of the modern chypre terrain. Structurally it has also been favourably compared to Guerlain Attrape-Coeur, though not having the opportunity to experience Mathilde Laurent’s creation I cannot objectively comment on that matter. Still, the word honeyed comes to mind upon describing the opening Promesse de l’Aube; although the requisite graces of bergamot, mandarin and lemon are present, the focal point is more apricot-glossed in sensorium, candied yet delicate in tow. One can almost mistaken the olfactory refraction as the offshoot of a vibrant peach, but such is not the focus, at least not in the sense of the classic grande dame tone, how unctuously fruity Persicol is in Guerlain Mitsouko (1919). Instead, imagine a quality French citrus-apricot confit, say, from Fauchon: poised, polished, but knowingly with that touch of restrained decadence. The apricot here is that necessary gloss above the rigorously made crème anglaise and pâte sable, that requisite sheen on the French confections.

And that sheen gets subsequently buoyed by the white florals, of ylang ylang and jasmine. Knowning Kurkdjian’s style my money is also on orange blossom—not in the sense of the absolute but more of a modern accord with methyl anthranilate and the salicylates—but alas such is not listed. This is where having an unrestrained development budget factors in, the floral elements having a proper heft and sheen without the all-too-commonplace screech in its sillage before the balsamic elements (tonka bean and vanilla) ushering in the modern musks, along with the woods such as Indian sandalwood to give off an air of billowing cloud somewhere within the vicinity of a modern chypre.

Here lies the contradiction within Promesse de l’Aube: the compositional style nudges on the late fifties side with its solemnity and structure, yet the overall sweep is nimble and modern. To this day I am still doing double takes on its theme: the cerebral side of me knows all too well that an oriental floral is at play, yet from time to time I wouldn’t think twice about enlisting the base as a modern chypre...

Is it worth its hefty price tag? Ringing the affirmative. To me here the phrase “promesse de l’aube” is more literal, a take on l’aube without the fear of not delivering on la promesse.

For more information on the perfumes, flacons and on how to order, please contact Parfums MDCI
Photo: Promesse de l’Aube from LuckyScent.
* For a basic summary of the book please refer to this literary review.

Mélange Perfumes: Make your Own Scent Combo

Have you ever dabbled into mixing one or two essences or even ready-made perfumes to create a third one that would be just so? This "layering" exercise sometimes ends up pretty and more often it ends up disastrously. It takes a bit of experience and training to be able to combine successfully, you see.
So the news of a specifically produced "palettes" (seriously, they look cute like eyeshadow palettes off MAC or something) comprising solid scents for mixing and matching was quite interesting to me. After all, I do get emails and questions about mixing one's own scent all the time.

Exclusive to CameoNouveau.com, Mélange Perfumes ($28 each) are a blend of fragrance notes artfully blended in a base of natural Beeswax and Jojoba, which produces a perfect solid perfume that glides onto the skin. Each Mélange Solid Perfume Blending Palette contains four solid perfumes with blending instructions. All of the fragrances are designed to be worn alone, or blended with others in the palette to create a unique custom blend all your own (And I venture to add that one might even be tempted to combine freely from across the palettes, let's live dangerously!).

And of course the Mélange solid perfumes fit into any handbag for touch-ups throughout the day or for taking along on your weekend escape. They also sound like a great little gift for your girlfriends.

The declinatations are as follows:

Green Notes: Green Tea & Honeysuckle; Cut Grass & Paperwhite; Cucumber, Sakura Blossom & White Tea, Mimosa, Mint & Citron.
Floral Notes: Jasmine & Neroli; Casablanca Lily & Tuberose; Japanese Tea Rose & Sakura; Frangipani & Gardenia.
Citrus Notes: Grapefruit & Pomegranate; Bergamot & Jasmine; Mandarin & Tea; Citron & Casis.
Fruit Notes: Currant & Grapefruit; Plum & Tobacco Leaf; Sakura Blossom & Ginger; Pear & Fig.
Amber Notes: Amber, plum & Vanilla Orchid; Santal, Lily & Tonka; Tobacco Leaf, Patchouli & Musk

 Products are $28 for each palette and available at www.cameonouveau.com.