Parfums M.Micallef Rouge #1: fragrance review

Rose stands as a symbol of femininity, at least in the western world. Perfectly formed, delicately or more passionately hued, its scent combining freshness with powder and sweet liqueur can be heavenly ~or it can be hellish. All too often rose fragrances can turn sour or dusty, like moldy pot-pouri that has been sitting for ages unattended and unappreciated at the corner of the window ledge, sitting on a lace doily, fearing for its survival from the leap of a hundred cats vying for the tenant's attention. If you're nodding your head thinking "rose smells of old ladies" and the paraphernalia this cultural stigma evokes, I know you can understand my personal pained story with rose. But not all is doom and gloom in regards to the queen of flowers.

via Pinterest

So what can a perfumer and a clever conceived brand do to avoid this perilous and unpopular situation?

One solution is to go for earthy and thorny and pair rose with patchouli (and possibly white truffle notes), a time-honored, but especially galvanized by niche perfume companies recently, concept. (I think Voleur de Roses by L'Artisan Parfumeur was the pioneer in making this a niche trope).
Another, no less popular route, is to cuddle the rose in peachy lactonic materials, appearing as apricot, peach or nectarine in the list of notes. This has been a collective snuggly and hyper-feminine reference since that mega-blockbuster by Lancome, Trésor, the accord "décolleté" as its creator called it. Of course if you have ever sat next to a woman wearing Trésor you know there is such a notion as "too much of a good thing"; it's as subtle as a sledgehammer and as elegant as a 100 carat diamond hanging off your neck on a chain of thick gold. But this is where the niche brands can employ their finesse (see Liaisons Dangeureses by Kilian and Vive la Mariée by Parfums de Rosine for fine roses that won't suffocate) and M.Micallef is no stranger to the concept.

Rouge #1 by M.Micallef is part Le Collection Rouge (the red collection) which comprises two scents for now (Rouge #2 to be reviewed on another day). Rouge #1, composed by perfumer Jean Claude Astier, encompasses all the guiles of femininity and renders a fruity floral you won't be sorry to pick up for yourself and own. Polished, groomed, lightly powdery, with a fuzzy opening that unites summer fruit and rose, the floral part gains on nuance as the fragrance develops. It's unmistakably rose, but even if you don't usually like roses it manages to seduce you with a smile. The drydown has lots of (clean) musk indeed (with hints of rice pudding, a nice touch which fits with the refined gourmand successes of the brand). All fragrances in this genre are musky, but it blends in seamlessly here (after all Micallef does Royal Muska too, a lovely clean heavy-duty musk scent by itself).
M.Micallef Rouge #1 is what you'd picture a young mother wearing, a woman in love and a daughter borrowing perfume off a mother's vanity to graft some of that admired but at the same time cozy, tender feeling onto herself as an amulet against the world. Alas, not fit for most men; sorry guys, this is all ours!

Good projection and very good lasting power from the dab on I have been using. The bottles as usual are hand-decorated by Martine Micallef herself with her usual flair for the artistic and the beautiful and pay homage to the Art Deco style. This is a case where niche isn't just an excuse for charging high prices for hot air.


Notes for M.Micallef Rouge#1: 
Top: peach and tangerine
Heart: ylang-ylang, jasmine and rose
Base: white musk, vanilla and benzoin.

On Fragrance Classification of Flowers: White Florals, Yellow, Green, Rosy, Spicy and Anisic

The scientist and the layman alike adore making neat little pigeonholes of things around them pertaining to their job or interests: pictorial styles in archeological remnants or chemical molecules present in material things are no more conductive to fitting into classification systems than styles of macramé or hardware for garage use. Classification is always a learning tool, for oneself, as much as for the benefit of communicating to others; a way to organize one's world; a grammar.

In the scented universe, people who are willing to learn about perfume often come across categories such as the often mentioned (and referenced) "fragrance families"; roughly -and traditionally, I might add- these include the florals, the chypres, the orientals, and the fougères. [If you're interested in getting to know some of them and a couple of their more intriguing sub-categories, please refer to our Beginner Articles on Chypre perfumes, Fougères, Floral Aldehydic fragrances (and on aldehydes themselves) and on Oriental Gourmand fragrances. ]
Floral fragrances in particular base both their consumer allure and their evocative powers on the flowers on which they draw their inspiration -if not always actual ingredients- from. Therefore the grammar of flowers is not only useful for the better understanding of the perfumes in which they star, but it serves as a powerful tool for the budding perfumer eager to explore their intricacies.

In this linguistic analogy above, inspired by classical semiotics, the perfume is the text, ripe for interpretation and parsing. The words, the components that make it up, form a grammar. And the structure of the perfume, its way of being composed, of putting the grammatical forms into phrases with meaning, is syntax.
Grammar of course, in language as in perfume, is a man-made construction: smells do not necessarily and spontaneously fall into groups, nor do they realize they do when they do! Grammar is a theoretician's way of organization much like the periodical table of elements is another. Therefore perfume theoreticians such as Edmond Roudnitska and Jean Claude Ellena, alongside Jean Carles and others, have tried to put order into chaos. And bypass order in their own work to render art.

One of the most popular references is the "white floral fragrances" group. The color coding is easy: white florals are comprised of scents of white petal flowers, such as gardenia, tuberose, orange blossom and jasmine (though the careful perfume lover soon finds out that not all white flowers produce "white floral fragrances" nevertheless!). The ability to bring the scent memory forth is also an acquired reflex that stretches with a predictable kick at the mere mention of the term. The commonality lies in a substance white florals share: indole, which happens to be a white crystalline material as well (see our Indoles and Indolic Fragrances article). Some are more indolic than others: tuberose has more of the mentholated scent of indole, while orange blossom has little. The Jasmine Fragrance Series and the Orange Blossom Fragrance Series can serve as inspiration on exploring this genre more.

Roudnitska classifies all fragrant materials into 15 series in his Art et Parfum, categories which include "balsamic" (see our corresponding reference article), "aromatic" (another fragrance term article), "tobacco" or "animal(ic)" (see our article on animalic scents for further explanation). Roudnitska opts to classify most major perfumery flowers into a group of their own: rose, violet, jasmine and orange flower take on their own individual slots. But within those categories there is some interesting overlapping: jonquil is close to orange flower, tuberose is included in the jasmine class. Some flowers are "green-smelling"; the freshness and impression of foliage of lily of the valley/muguet or narcissus and hyacinth explain the naming. Other flowers have a component that renders them spicy, such as carnation. Indeed classic carnation scents from the first half of the 20th century are routinely built on cloves, some combination of eugenol and rose. Gardenia however, despite the white floral moniker and although sharing facets with both jasmine and tuberose, is classified by Roudnitska in "fruit". It's no wonder that Ellena composes his gardenias with prunolide (a prune evoking aldehyde)!

Other classifications, such as the one employed by Jean Claude Ellena himself, are based on the common components that flower essences share in their molecular structure; equally persuasive and not necessarily contradictory to Carles's or Roudnitska's systems. The floral essences can be divided into roughly 5 sub-groups: rosy flowers (in which rose, peony, cyclamen, sweet pea, tulip and magnolia are included), white florals (jasmine, gardenia, tuberose, longoza, honeysuckle, orange blossom -and narcissus, please note), the yellow florals (including freesia, osmanthus, azalea and iris -and I'd add boronia and tagetes/marigold myself), the spicy florals (carnation certainly, but also lily, petunia, orchid and ylang ylang) and the anisic florals (with prime among them mimosa, cassie and lilacs). In this system there are no "green florals", so hyacinth is classified under rosy florals , as is lily of the valley. This is more a process of elimination. Additionally, things aren't always laid in stone: Magnolias are made with nerol, citronellol, geraniol (rosy compounds) myradyl acetate, linalool, methyl anthranilate...This brings them closer to roses, of course (and orange blossoms). Some ready-made compounds however, such as Magnolan, are closer to jasmine & lily of the valley, only more citrusy (grapefruit?), so it all depends (some perfumers use jasmolactones into making a magnolia).

As to Yellow Florals, you can find an analytical explanation with fragrance examples in my article on Yellow Florals on Fragrantica. Suffice to say here that it's the presence and degradation of carotenoids (which account for the vivid shades of the flowers and many fruits -even animals too, such as the flamingo or the shrimp) which results in exuding ionones. Ionones are fragrant molecules that are otherwise routinely used for the creation of violet and iris notes in perfumery. Beta-ionone is practically code name for yellow flowers. (But ionones are also used as a masking agent, so it's not uncommon to come across alpha-isomethyl ionone in a pleiad of scented products). Ionones happen to range between a pale to more standard yellow in the lab, so the taxonomy might have to do with the odor materials as well as the floral representatives in the botany sense. If you're searching for credible yellow floral fragrances search not further than Antonia's Flowers (freesia dominant & nicely non harsh), Osmanthus by the Different Company, Dior J'Adore, Osmanthus by Ormonde Jayne, and Royal Apothic Marigold Extract are recommended fragrant voyages to sail upon.

Green florals are easier to pinpoint than expected because no matter what the color of the flower, the feel of the aroma is evocative of spring foliage, young buds and snapped leaves. It's more of a mental association, which has been passed down to us through eons of referencing the coming of spring with the color green. The visual signifier has therefore come to potently symbolize a whole class of smells. It's easy to mentally overdo them too, as "green" universally stands for "go on", "free to go", "more", "faster", kill, pussycat, kill. Characteristic examples of the genre include the famous Diorissimo by Dior (composed by Roudnitska himself and idolizing the fresh bouquet of lily of the valley, what is colloquially called "May bells"), Chamade by Guerlain (with a very discernible hyacinth note), and Le Temps d'Une Fete by Patricia di Nicolai (composed on daffodils and narcissi).

Spicy florals seem self-explanatory but aren't necessarily. Anisic florals recall the scent of aniseed (famous for scenting pastis and ouzo aperitifs), which is...a spice! To make things easier on you "spicy florals" in perfume classification always refer to the presence of eugenol or isoeugenol, so flowers that recall cloves or mace are considered in this taxonomy, such as carnation and lily. Bellodgia by Caron evokes carnations potently (as do but in an orientalised context other famous Carons perfumes, namely Poivre and Coup de Fouet). So do Oeillet Sauvage by L'Artisan Parfumeur, although more naturalistically (composing the note on rose and ylang ylang with a helping of eugenol), and Dianthus by Etro among many others. Worthwhile lily fragrances to sample include Lys Mediterranée by F.Malle (sea spray salted lilies), Un Lys by Serge Lutens (more vanillic), Baiser Volé by Cartier (powdery), Guerlain Lys Soleia (tropical lilies), Donna Karan Gold (with an amber base note) and Vanille Galante by Hermes (ethereal and very refined).

Mimosa and cassie fragrances are decidedly anisic: classic perfume references include the stupendous Une Fleur de Cassie by F.Malle, and Mimosa pour Moi by L'Artisan Parfumeur, a life-redolent mimosa. Lilac fragrances are hard to do properly, because they have an anisic component, the floral sweetness and softness, as well as a spicy & fruity nuance. Most lilac fragrances on the market have a toilet freshener feel to it, but Highland of Rochester Lilac and Pur Desir de Lilas (Yves Rocher) succeed where others fail.

Gods lie in ambush though: The iconic L'Heure Bleue by Guerlain is a prime anisic (and vanillic) floral, but the anise is not due to mimosa as it is to anisealdehyde, as is the case with equally classic Apres L'Ondée which pairs the anise note with violets: a match made in heaven (or rather in Jacques Guerlain's fertile imagination). This is a case where the floral reference comes as an afterthought than as the source of inspiration; abstraction and imaginative powers have come a long way from trying to just transpose nature on a form that would allow safekeeping of that fleeting moment, if only for as long as the bottle lasts...

All pics via Pinterest

Ormonde Jayne Tsarina: fragrance review

Tsarina, part of the London exclusive "Four Corners of the Earth" line by niche perfumery Ormonde Jayne, is advertised as "baroque" as would be expected from a fragrance evoking the furs and jewels of imperial Russia. Much as the sensibilities of democracy and social struggle have imprinted themselves into our collective consciousness, understandably making us abhor the practices of that long-gone era, the opulence of the winter palaces and the decorations on the regal vesture make the eye rest on them in awe and admiration (but lest we forget, people suffered so that the few had those privileges!). The contemporary reality of the scent by Ormonde Jayne, co-created by perfumer Geza Schoen and art director Linda Pilkington, is beyond the dense and thick, breathing with a beautiful luminosity and genuine distinction beyond the class systems.

Grand Duchess Anastasia Nikolaevna of Russia (pinned on Pinterest from coeurdelhistoire.tumblr.com)

The inspiration for the new perfume collection 'The Four Corners of the Earth' came from the indigenous flora of different parts of the world Linda Pilkington have visited on her travels. Globetrotting can serve many things and when it's for the benefit of us all, who can blame Linda for wanting to package these olfactory impressions into elixirs to be put onto skin?

Tsarina captures opulence and passion. It demands furs, leather, brocade, heavy silks in sweeping dresses and fabulous jewels to go with her haughty heritage. If you like the opulent feeling that some great florientals of the past exude in spades, such as Caron Narcisse Noir, or Boucheron Femme (the original), my gut feeling tells me that you'd probably love Tsarina, just like I have, and suffer through its exclusive status as a London-only ware. (The rest of the exclusive line includes the India-inspired Nawab of Oudh, the cedar-austere Montabaco inspired by Latin American and the featherweight charm of Chinese-inflected Qi)

*sigh* I had to post this despite my will, since the costumes are so magnificent...

Decadent luxury is transliterated into scent with Tsarina, a powerhouse floral oriental perfume reverberating with heaps of natural jasmine sambac (quite the non-Russia-referencing blossom!), unfurling its petals from the bottle like tentacles of glamour. The bright fruity touches give a saturated texture. The soft, vanillic and close to the skin intimacy of leathery  labdanum, fusing into an amber-smellingblend (more soft suede than balsam or butch leather one would associate in reference to the usual Cuir de Russie scent themes), underscores this composition—and do I detect a drop of civet, too?
Like the vitraux at the Saint Isaac's Cathedral in Russia, Tsarina is beautifully radiant, powerfully evocative of imperial splendor.

Notes for Ormonde Jayne Tsarina:
top : mandarin, bergamot, coriander, cassis
heart : hedione, freesia, jasmine, sambac, iris, suede
base : sandalwood, cedar, vanilla bean base, labdanum, musk

Tsarina is available exclusively at the Ormonde Jayne boutiques in London, UK.

Related reading on Perfume Shrine: Nawab of Oudh by Ormonde Jayne fragrance review (4 Corners of the Earth line), Ormonde Jayne news and fragrance reviews.

Marchesa Parfum d'Extase: fragrance review

Some perfumes are what in perfumista-land we call "compliment getters"; they elicit spontaneous feedback from strangers in the decidedly positive end of the spectrum. Usually this either has to do a bit with current trends (familiarity creates recognition and fuzzy warmth) or -ironically enough- with breaking away from trends (something totally novel and unexpected has a way of ripping through our preconceptions and making as notice it). And sometimes it just has to do with the overall character of a smell: it can be gracefully smooth, easy, a sort of effortless elegance which anyone can graft onto them.  The kind of thing you put on and forget about it, until someone comments on it. Parfum d'Extase by Marchesa is one case among that latter category, because even though it's neither novel nor overpopular, it breeds that sort of cozy reception which accounts for having people say "hey, you smell really nice, what's that?". So, lemme tell you what that is.

I tried the new "all over mist" version of Parfum d'Extase, available at Sephora, which denotes a lighter concentration to be used all over. This kind of formula allows for a more spread application and I do just that, reveling in being allowed to indulge in this kind of wild abandon, knowing I'm not gassing anyone with potent fumes. (You wouldn't see me doing that with YSL Opium or Carnal Flower, would you!). That means a generous spray on hair and on the hairline at the back of my neck, one spray on chest and belly each, behind the knees and a touch on my wrists. In total about 6 spritzes of silky goodness.

The fragrance is a white flower concoction (an abstract mix that is hard to pinpoint) with a lovely touch of cool and clean rained-upon fresh leaves vibe, which we have come to collectively call "iris" in modern fragrances, when in fact this is a half truth (the secret is the irone molecules which are added in the formula, present in orris root and giving that specific tinge).
For an iris fragrance it's not at all starchy ("irises" can turn into a "raw potatoes scent" on skin contact sometimes); on the contrary it's lightly aqueous floral at first with a very pretty and extended woody drydown that dries some more as time passes. Perfumer Annie Byzantian is an expert with those silky compositions with a musky and lightly powdery scent trail. The most characteristic note to peep is freesia; you have to have a positive reaction to the simultaneously fresh and peppery zing of freesia to like Parfum d'Extase.

I suspect the drydown part however is the one that has people spontaneously notice and comment; although a non-heavyweight fragrance, Marchesa Parfum d'Extase has a lingering and beckoning trail (similar to the category of "woody floral musk" fragrances) which is felt more by those you come into contact with than yourself. It's also non age specific: it would smell just as lovely and easy on teens as it would on grandmas.

I'm not especially drawn to the original perfume bottle by Marchesa (it's a bit much for my taste and I find the "paste" touches a tad tacky, sorry), but most people have a favorable reaction to it. After all, it's what inside that counts. I bet this would be a crowd-pleaser in your neighborhood as well.

Notes for Marchesa Parfum d'Extase: Iris Flower, Freesia, Black Current, Young Violet Leaves, Lotus Flower, Night Blooming Jasmine, Bulgarian Rose Water, Orange Blossom, Iris Root, Ambrox, Captive Musks.

Caron 2013 Fragrance Editions ~Aimez Moi, Nocturnes, Piu Bellodgia, My Ylang: Notes on Reformulation & Bottle Design

Many loyal as well as casual readers address my inbox with questions whether there are any new reformulations going on in the venerable house of parfums Caron, especially going by the news of new bottles appearing since spring 2013.

The new editions from 2013 are clearly visually separate, by merits of bottle design alone, if nothing else, which should make it perfectly easy on the buyer: the simple, architectural, oblong bottles with the square white cap, with the name plastered on the length of the front, are far removed from the older style peppercorn-studded spray bottle with the gold rounded contours cap, or the royal-blue "crowned" one for the older Aimez Moi for instance. Of course Caron has had as many bottle re-designs as any other older brand; just remember the abstract artwork on the labels on the early 1980s plain spray bottles editions with the plastic cap, just one of them. Then again, the shagreen encasing of the rounded cylinders with the colorful codes for each brand are only too recent in memory to justify another change in so little time. What's going on?

Will this new development mean that the new style will phase out the older ones and does that mean that the perfumes inside are "ruined" for loyal Caron perfume buyers? Read on dear reader what I found out about this matter for your sake.

The 2013 edition of Aimez Moi is credited to perfumer Dominique Ropion (and not Richard Fraysse who reworked the rest of the Caron canon circa mid-2000s) who also had worked in the previous fragrance version from 1996. The two fragrance versions of Aimez Moi are extremely similar compared side by side, with a hint of sweetness being more pronounced in the newer one and a less earthy iris note, making for a slightly less dry effect. Thankfully for old timers, the two are close enough to satisfy the craving when it strikes.

Nocturnes 2013 however is substantially different from the classic aldehydic floral perfume Nocturnes from 1981 composed by Roger Pellegrino. The new version is a "woody floral musk", very soft, with a muted woody (and cleaned up patchouli?) base which points it more to the direction of SJP Lovely than to -say- Yves Saint Laurent Rive Gauche. So if you're in live with the older Nocturnes, better grab the older bottles while they're still available at decent prices.

Piu Bellodgia means "more Bellodgia" in Italian (fitting language since the original Bellodgia was inspired by the Italian countryside) but doesn't appear to add more oomph to the already rich bouquet of the classic Caron Bellodgia. Reworked by Richard Fraysse, this was a composition that needed to adhere to the new IFRA directives on the regulation of eugenol/isoeugenol (spicy components used in fragrance replicating carnations, such as this one). The newer version is rosier than I get from my old bottle (which is a fuller floral symphony), with less of the spicy kick.

Caron My Ylang, is a totally new perfume addition, composed by Richard Fraysse. The perfume features a noticeable blackcurrant buds note on top, a note that is returning on the trend wagon in perfumes lately, with a white floral heart which predictably features ylang ylang. For those who prefer their ylang rich and tropical like in Ylang in Gold by M.Micallef, or those who prefer their ylang greened up and mysterious, like in Ylang 49 by Le Labo, this is questionably good news; they probably won't be thrilled. For those who love the juxtaposition of a usually rich floral note with the peculiar sour-catty hint of blackcurrants, like in L'Ombre dans l'Eau by Diptyque, this is a welcome addition.

The newer Caron fragrance editions have slowly infiltrated the counters (Londoners will find them at Liberty for instance) and will co-exist with the older ones for a while, but the future holds a complete refurbishing of the line with the newer style bottles replacing the gloriously wicked peppercorn-studded ones, as well as the crystal-faceted oblong ones with the "stopper" style cap (which mimic the ones of extrait for the lesser spray concentrations), with Parfum Sacre being the next to appear in the new style bottle. The advantage of the newer bottles is making them more male-friendly, a trait that is important to the men perfumisti out there. They also look more uniform, more of a coherent line, making way with the disparate bottle designs from various stand-alone glass molds for some of the perfumes in the line. Of course this also means an advantageous glass making cost per production, as each different mold requires a separate client account and budgeting.

In short: a reworking of the visual representation in an even more disruptive way than with what happened with Annick Goutal only this year. Let's hope what counts, what's inside, will hold a reliable standard. Aimez Moi 2013 at least is a step in the right direction.

Related reading on PerfumeShrine: Caron news & perfume reviews