L'Artisan Parfumeur L'Ete en Douce (previously Extrait de Songe): fragrance review

Essence of a dream, that is Extrait de songe, was the very poetic name of a limited edition “clean”perfume for summer 2005 by L’artisan Parfumeur. The latter lost a legal battle over the coveted name with Annick Goutal who had the name Songes (=dreams) copyrighted for her own, completely different, floriental composition. Hence the lovely Extrait de Songe became extinct... Later it was rechristened as L'Eté en Douce (playing on a French idiom, meaning "summer is sneaking up on you") and entered the L'Artisan portfolio as a re-issue.
However many perfume fans say the fragrance in either name smells quite close to another older L’artisan offering, one of the Moodswings coffret, Lazy Mood, developed by the same perfumer, Olivia Giacobetti. This got me thinking.

Laziness, boredom, dullness….all of these words bring to mind the languorous days of a really hot summer, when one isn’t energized enough to actively do anything except sleep. We had a long bout of this in the summer and am afraid we will get it again soon enough.
When I am talking hot, I am not talking Canada “hot”. Nor Germany “hot”. These are euphemisms. These are mere bleeps on the radar of hotness, never managing to register with me. (It’s actually my preferred weather: if only we had 28 degree Celsius half the year long...)
I am talking 39-40 degrees hell hot, all red and fiery; when your own skin is becoming revolting to you and you want to tear it apart with one swift gesture like an overzealous Russian waxer with steroid-enhanced arms; when hair sticks on your forehead inviting you to turn into a travesty of a skinhead; when sticky liquid oozes off your pores just by sitting around doing nothing. Yes, you’ve guessed it: I hate those moments with a passion.
The “noon devil” of the hermits of Egypt, which draws out every speck of physical and mental vitality, is my personal nemesis.

However it is a small comfort that Extrait de songe/L'Eté en Douce exists for providing the illusion of a clean, cool, white cotton sheet that can be wrapped all around one and provide some solace from the scorching sun. Sloth according to Kirkegaard is the source of all evil. Wordsworth described it as “wild dullness”. It is considered one of the seven deadly sins by the Catholic church. Hamlet refers to the world as “tiresome, plain and dull” which probably explains why he never lifts a hand to actually do anything except talk for the better part of the play.
Samuel Butler says that boredom is a kind of spiritual failure, since the person who lets himself to emote it is more despicable than boredom itself.
But is it so bad, really? I wonder…

Billy Collins, the poet, calls boredom paradise itself. “It’s the blessed absence of things that the world offers as interesting such as fashion, media, and other people, whom Sartre –let’s not forget- characterized as hell.”
Anton Chekhov also idealized boredom in many of his plays, like in Uncle Vania and Samuel Beckett’s “Waiting for Godot” remains without a doubt the manifesto of dullness, featuring characters that await for that bastard Godot who never makes an appearance and which proves boredom can be pro-active after all, because many had stood up and left the theatre from what I recall :-)) The New York author Richard Greenburg even wrote a book (titled “Take me out”) after a bout of boredom during one especially dull summer, during which he watched baseball matches on TV. Luckily I am not  that desperate. Brenda Way, choreographer, likes to sit and think when stuck in a jammed highway: She believes it aids her involuntary voyage to creativity by using her unconscious powers at those precise moments.

Made by nose Olivia Giacobetti, who is famous for her light compositions that are like Winslow Homer paintings, Extrait de Songe/L'Eté en Douce is typically her style and seems very fit for such moments. It's an interpretation of freshness without acidulated, fusing or sparkling notes and it reminds me of the style that Jean Claude Ellena later explored in one of his "cologne" duo, called Eau de Gentiane Blanche. The two fragrances do not smell the same, but they share a similar sensibility and apparently a generous smothering of ambrette seed.
Featuring an airy and totally linear formula, Extrait de Songe/L'Eté en Douce begins with linden and lots of "clean" orange blossom water, like the flower water used to sprinkle Mediterranean cookies with, segueing on to hay- like (coumarin?) and woody notes, it finishes off with a kiss of white musk and the bitterish ambrette like newly washed bed-clothes envelopping your showered body. It's all purity, all light! Uncomplicated, easy, soft, lastingly diaphanous, evoking the dew caressing grass in a field and on wild rose bushes, the freshness of lime trees and the warm scent of freshly cut hay; a fragrance that has no aspirations of creating discussion, but only of making you feel good about yourself! The whole projects at a white radiant frequency which must be as close to seraphic cool places as possible without actually hitting the bucket.

Whatever your camp is (and I suppose you still run a pulse if you're reading right now), Extrait de Songe/L'Eté en Douce manages to smell like it is the best thing to exonerate the bad and amplify the good aspects of boredom.

The original bottle of Extrait de Songe is a beautiful lavender blue degrade cylinder (the colour becomes more saturated on the bottom) with plain, silver sprayer, now a collector's item. The newer bottle under L'Eté en Douce follows the typical L'Artisan packaging with label in lavender blue.

Notes for L'Artisan Extrait de Songe/L'Eté en Douce:mint, rose, orange blossom and white musk

Please note: another fragrance by L'Artisan has just recently changed name, namely Vanille Absolument which used to be Havana Vanille (2009).

Inspired by a euro2day comment. Pic of kitten got sent to me by email, unaccredited. L'Ete en Douce bottle pic via duftarchiv.de

"The feeling you get when a little bird sings a song he made up just for you": Vintage Advertising Champions 2

"Chant d'Arômes is a special way of feeling.
It is the rare way you feel when you love someone and he loves you back.
Or when you breathe in the sweet of a giant forest right after it rains.
Sometimes Chant d'Arômes is a happy feeling.
The feeling you get when a little bird sings a song he made up just for you.
Chant d'Arômes could be the comfort of having a secret place that is all your very own.
Or having someone understand how you feel, even when you don't tell them.
Chant d'Arômes is lots of things all put together.
Chant d'Arômes is a perfume by Guerlain's."

Source: ebay.com via PerfumeShrine on Pinterest

 Vintage ad for Chant d'Aromes perfume by Guerlain. Illustration by Joan Walsh Anglund, 1967.

Mementos in Scent: From Perfumed Gloves to Handbags to Scented Handkerchiefs

Sometimes inanimate objects, accessories like handbags or scarves, gain a scent patina through use which can't be rinsed by the passage of ever destructible time. They stand there to remind us of the people who have inhabited those objects like spirits inhabit an attic, ghosts of the past, memories etched in scent.

via schweitzerlinen.com

In Kathleen Tessaro's 1950s-set novel "The Perfume Collector" the reinventing herself heroine receives small consolation from her best friend upon finding out -early in the book- that her husband is cheating with a glamorous society lady: a fragranced handkerchief. "She wanted to apologize; to reach out and hold Grace's hand and reassure her. But she didn't know how. If only she'd have the gumption to wrestle Vanesa to the ground on behalf of her friend. Instead, she did what her mother used to do; one of the only signs of affection that ever passed between them. Mallory took a fresh handerchief out of her coat pocket. It smelled faintly of Yardley Lily of the Valley toilet water, the perfume that haunted the bedrooms of her chilhood. She pressed it into Grace's hand. 'Take this darling. Just in case'."

Scent can even get better on a handkerchief than on the body, but for a truly sensual experience there's nothing like a handkerchief that has been kept warm by a special someone's body and slowly diffused the fragrance they have used. I used to keep a scented scarf of my beloved when I was traveling tucked inside my lingerie, knowing the warmth when the items would be worn would rekindle the scent of him. Handbags are no less poignant, especially the old hard-structured kind, with its sturdy leather and soft silk interior. The saturation of the fabric brought its own smells: face powder, lipstick, perfume, flowers decaying, the metallic scent of loose change, paper and pen...Annick Goutal recreated that beloved impression in her room spray Le sac de ma mere.

 Gloves have a noble history behind them. Apart from leather ones, nevertheless, those made out of wool, cotton or silk can also yield their own passionate stories. Ellen, one of my readers sent me the following story: Her now deceased mother used to tell her a story about her own mother, an impeccably dressed lady who used to wear white gloves when she went out.The grandmother went out to dinner at a restaurant which was frequented by older ladies. After she came home, she realized that she had left her gloves at the restaurant and asked her daughter to go and bring them back. She of course complied and asked the owner if a pair of white gloves had been found. He brought out a box in which there were literally a hundred pairs of white gloves and shrugged his shoulders. But undaunted, Ellen's mother picked up each pair of gloves and sniffed them. After about twenty pairs, she told the manager that she had found her dmother's gloves. He looked at her and asked her how she could be so sure, and she replied that the gloves smelled of April Violets, by Yardley, and that was the fragrance my grandmother always wore. She brought them home and my grandmother said that yes, they were in fact, her gloves.

What are your scented mementos? Do you have a story involving a fragranced object? Please feel free to share in the comments.

Neela Vermeire Creations Bombay Bling!: fragrance review

What do we know of India really? Its people say सत्यमेव जयते (i.e. truth alone triumphs), a motto inscribed in all local currency, but to our western mind this vast country is a tapestry of so colorful a thread and such intricate a yearn that it is almost impossible to exhaust it if one had two lifetimes over to do so. Bombay Bling! by Neela Vermeire Créations aims to give us a glimpse of this tapestry. Testing it I was expecting to savor this complexity; to paraphrase Dracula addressing Harker before coming to London, I so longed to go through the crowded streets of your mighty Bombay, to be in the midst of the whirl and the rush of humanity, to share its life, its changes, its deaths. The fragrance didn't disappoint. On the contrary. It rekindled the desire to go to India again, to merge myself with it.

Source: behance.net via Kjirsten on Pinterest

Bombay Bling! by Neela Vermeire is meant to fuse the dichotomy of India: the advances of the economic world and the colorful culture. The underbelly of the big city combined with the glitter of Bollywood on the vast sandy stretches of Juhu beach and the Queen’s necklace. Fortunes made and lost on the Bombay stock exchange and gambling dens of Mumbai. Beyond the Deccan plateau's archeological ruins...a figurative arm's length beyond the place where Alexander the Great wept, his fate, glory and dreams behind him, before him only the sea...where the cenotaphs of rajputs of Jaisalmer lie... there, in that still shrouded land a giant is stretching its legs and testing its strength; India. An exuberant fragrance, Bombay Bling! takes as a point of departure the mingling of tart, juicy fruits (an unripe mango veering into citrusy tang) squirted over lush flowers of the subcontinent and underscored with a humming woody backdrop. The deep, earthy sweetness of patchouli leaves blends with the banana note of the ylang. Brown sugar and cumin-like intimacy, like when you're smelling a lover's sweat, dripping on sandalwood chippings; milky, soft drydown, yet radiant and fun loving, like a lime and paprika dish with a side of mango chutney. Above all Bombay Bling! is optimism in a bottle!

Bombay Bling! is part of the original trio of fragrances issued by Neela Vermeire Créations which also includes Trayee and Mohur (the fourth instalment, Ashoka, is launching soon). These Indian inspired perfumes, like Chants of India, draw upon the tradition, history and cultural milieu of that vast Eastern sub-continent in which Neela herself has roots. These are truly "transparent orientals", modern and wearable, and therefore it comes as no surprise that Neela commissioned Bertrand Duchaufour to compose them for her niche line.

They are all satisfying tenacious and project with varying force, with Trayee the most introverted and Bombay Bling the most extroverted. Their trail is delicious, creating a lasting impression.

Notes for Neela Vermeire Creations Bombay Bling:
Mango, lychee, blackcurrant, cardamom, cumin, cistus, Turkish rose, jasmine sambac, ylang-ylang, tuberose, plumeria, gardenia, patchouli, tobacco, sandalwood, cedar, vanilla

Bombay Bling! is available as an Eau de Parfum 55ml (in refillable flacons), available at select stockists and on www.neelavermeire.com, where you can find a discovery set

The song is of course originally from film Mother India (music by Ali Naushad Saab) but this is a very popular Greek-lyric version called "My poor heart, how can you bear it" (lyrics written in the 1960s by Demetris Goutis) hereby sung by Eleni Vitali. A small token of appreciation of one people to another...

Disclosure: I was a sample by Neela. 

Neela Vermeire Creations Mohur: fragrance review

Perfumery was so developed during the Mogul era in india that the most powerful empress of the Mughal dynasty, Noor Jahan popularly known as Mehrunissa, devoted herself to perfecting it during her days of confinement after the death of her husband, emperor Jehangir.  Mohur (pronounced mə-ˈhu̇r) by niche perfume line Neela Vermeire Créations is inspired by this period and named after the golden coin minted during the Moghal and the British rule of the country. In fact, one can still see the largest mohur coin ever smithed displayed at the British Museum, a 1000 mohur from the reign of Jehangir (1605-1628).  I'm saying all this to confirm that Mohur is a regal perfume; majestic, opulent, marmoreal, founded  in powdery rose and oud, yes, but buoyed by spices (cardamom), a note of smooth suede (via saffron) and light, vegetal musk. The rosy blossom performs double duty: symbol of the territories around the Middle East, but also synonymous with the "English rose".

Source: aashhi.tumblr.com via Glorynn on Pinterest

The magnificence of Neela's Mohur lies in its surpassing and transcendence of olfactory tropes: where rose usually reads as dusty, like pot pouri, it is in Mohur elevated into jammy and lightly powdery; where oud in contemporary fragrances usually smells like Band Aids, here it is discreet and only reinforces the earthiness; and finally where the two combined would end up feeling deja vu, a classical tradition seen a hundred  times  over  thanks to every niche (and some non niche) firm of the last decade, this marriage by perfumer Bertrand Duchaufour feels neoteric. Although the composition feels radiant and classically French at moments (I was briefly reminded of the feel of the classic Madame Rochas perfume and of aubepine aldehyde, then more potently of the rose and saffron in the original Agent Provocateur eau de parfum), with a lightly soapy facet, Mohur satisfies both the lover of soft woody florals and the one who is after an orientalized take on rose. The richness of the floral accords creates the rich facade of a temple where the vibrancy of the tiles beckons you to come closer to fully experience them. The depth of the spicy and earthy notes recalls mendhi decorations on the nimble hands of Shriya Saran. And the plush is evocative of silk cushions at some old palace in Rajastan where the British find themselves mesmerized strangers to a mysterious land.

Interestingly, the dabbing method yields more of the saffron rose impression of Mohur, while the spraying method accounts for the French soapy aldehydic segment which is less detectable on dried down skin. Less predictably exotic than Trayee and Bombay Bling, but nevertheless a refined, golden fragrance for those who can appreciate the mastery of true artists. It was enough to have my rose-hesitant heart ambushed and kept captive.

Mohur is part of the original trio of fragrances issued by Neela Vermeire Créations which also includes Trayee and Bombay Bling (the fourth instalment, Ashoka, is launching soon). These Indian inspired perfumes, like Chants of India, draw upon the tradition, history and cultural milieu of that vast Eastern sub-continent in which Neela herself has roots. These are truly "transparent orientals", modern and wearable, and therefore it comes as no surprise that Neela commissioned Bertrand Duchaufour to compose them for her niche line.

Notes for Neela Vermeire Creations Mohur:
Cardamom, coriander, ambrette, carrot, black pepper, elemi, Turkish rose oil, jasmine, orris, hawthorn, almond milk accord, leather, sandalwood, amber, patchouli, oudh Palao from Laos, benzoin, vanilla, tonka bean



Mohur is available as an Eau de Parfum 55ml (in refillable flacons), available at select stockists and on www.neelavermeire.com, where you can find a discovery set. As of mid-2013 a new parfum version of Mohur will be available as well.

Disclosure: I was sent a sample by Neela.