Versace Crystal Noir: fragrance review of enduring best-seller

Lately I have been noticing a strange phenomenon which brought about this examination. Versace's post-millennium child, Crystal Noir from 2004, has been the über perennial for each and every occasion on the Fragrantica members' collections! The members come from far and between, dressed in many guises among eclectic collections, but the bottom-line is always the same: Crystal Noir comes across as the perfect passe-partout fragrance for a very wide audience. Fit for day, sexy by night. This is why it has endured for 20 years to the day.

I am not such an ardent fan of it, but I do get the crowd-pleasing aspect of it very well. It's very easy to wear and mingles with the skin. The presentation with the lid that seems like it takes Herculean capacity to lift helps, too. Capitalizing on the mysterious allure of both purple and black and revisiting the Tom Ford ads element of women reclining with men over them, it catches the eye in a somewhat tacky way. The marrying of a floral note hidden inside a soft, mellow cocoon creates this impression of being immersed in clotted cream. Cream brings on thoughts of gluttony, indulgence, pampering and also whiteness. White also brings to mind gardenias (supposedly in the heart of Crystal Noir's floral chord, though I don't really discern it as such) and shredded coconut whites, all delicious and tropical. White and tropical don't really mix together, mentally, but in this case they do and — lo and behold! — it makes for the converging of territories. We can feel clearly the white floral hint creamed in coconut and deliciously comfy materials of milky woods, fluffy clean musks and a mental interjection of a hot white towel impression. It's worthy of a spa, yet oddly sexy and beckoning-come-hither, too. No wonder it's the fragrance for day and night, for business or pleasure, for just abut any woman. If she's shy she can comfort herself that it's her armour. If she's bold, she can cajole her fancier moods by saying to herself she's always the lady (and she is).

Cacharel Eden: fragrance review & musings on contemporaneity

 Cacharel's Eden from 1994 is the precursor of neon green compositions like Mark Jacobs Decadence and Thierry Mugler's Aura, which were introduced as so trailblazing in recent years, but they're not. Considering that the latter with its green rhubarb-gardenia accord in the eau de parfum has sparked comments of very herbal mouthwash, grassy soil, muddy swamps and musty cellars, bugs and bug poison, etc., it's not unfathomable that Eden has also been rather challenging for modern audiences as well.

 Back then, nevertheless, it was "the newest Cacharel" and its youth appeal was palpable. Every teenage girl and budding woman has fond memories and references in everything Cacharel made. There was no frog in sight, only princes.

The opening of Eden blends luminous citrus notes but also the sharpness of grassy-sweet patchouli, a hint of the jungle. Something untamed and lurking in the background. The cold water freshness of water lily (or lotus or pond lily) in the heart is combined with a complex, heady mix of floral notes (tuberose, mimosa, jasmine, rose and lily-of-the-valley) and sweet juicy fruits (of which pineapple and melon are probably the most referenced, though they smell of neither, per se, as the molecule used was Calone, as was customary back in the era).

The water notes are in perfect harmony with sharp patchouli and the warm, woody base of cedar and sandalwood and probably vetiver too, creating the terrain of the bog of a sorceress. Perhaps Eden shouldn't be recalling Eve, but rather Lilith, the first bewitching woman. The more the fragrance stays on, the sweeter it becomes, with a faint whiff of the compote peaches in rubber of Gucci Rush. Or rather the two are on the crossroads of fruity chypre and floral oriental, borrowing elements of either style and re-jingling the kaleidoscope to create a new image, a sort of musical-style Dear Prudence rendered olfactive — especially in the version sung by Siouxsie and the Banshees in Venice.

Puredistance Papilio -Spring Awakenings: fragrance review & musings

 Papilio, the latest Puredistance fragrance, almost coaxes a butterfly to sit upon your shoulder: Its realistic depiction of a magnolia tree in bloom, of the fresh, lightly green scent of far off jasmine vines, the hint of greenery, the almost musky suede foil for its precious bottle is unparalleled. Everything about Papilio is lyrical and like a poem's cadenza; everything about it is a work of art.

butterflies by panpan on we heart it via pinterest

What will I ever do when I run out of my small sprayer? I'd be at a loss... Seriously, without the dramatics of a perfume collector who is always contemplating the end of their pleasure measured in missed sprays, like J.Afred Prufrock measures his life in coffee spoons, it's something to savor to the very end.

When Nathalie Feisthauer took on the creation of PUREDISTANCE Papilio, which launched back in 2023, magic happened. Soft citruses, heliotrope, and berry-stained palms of summers spent outdoors came back in the guise of colorful butterflies. Papilio got its name after the founder of PUREDISTANCE twisted the French word for butterfly, papillon. Seemingly entirely floral, but the soft leather and luxurious silky woods in Papilio wrap the memory into a creation irresistible among all floral suede compositions — it feels like being caressed by dewy petals!
 
It's difficult to contemplate just what makes a floral synthesis wonderful, just like it is difficult to render separate the effects felt by the intricate, but seemingly effortless composition of ikebana. Where one thread begins, another completes its course, rendering the final result silky and homogenous, without compromise to expectations for disparate effects, surprises and awe. Papilio caresses with the silky feel of a cool spring morning that raises your skin into goosebumbs just before the sunrays warm it up, the magnolias offered upwards to the sky in full bloom.

It's joyful and contemplative at the same time — a rite of spring, indeed.

Stylistically, it recalls the best days of L'Artisan Parfumeur, when they innovated with delicate compositions that seemingly brought nature on your plate, so to speak. Dewy, cool, green...in the ballpark of Jardins de Bagatelle and Cristalle eau de parfum.

Or maybe it's the idealized effect of nature, all Galatea-like, standing in front of an awe-struck Pygmalion, the tale of antiquity which prompted so many reflections about the relationship between creator and work of art.
The main office and design center of PUREDISTANCE is located in the Netherlands. In a historical building a small creative team — guided by visionary founder Jan Ewoud Vos — designs and refines the artistic world of PUREDISTANCE. All Puredistance products consist of high quality ingredients and components and are assembled by hand with great care, passion and a strong eye for detail. We have often reviewed them with this in mind.

It is also important to note that all PUREDISTANCE fragrances are only available as Pure Perfume / Extrait de parfum in perfume oil concentrations that vary between 25-32%. This is no different. They project moderately, with utter class, eschewing the hyped "beast mode" of the consumer who wants to get noticed, but last long on the skin.

Puredistance Papilio set and sizes

Papilio by Puredistance is available as extrait de parfum in 17ml (175 euros), 60ml (295 euros), and 100ml with handmade leather folder (490 euros) at the official Puredistance website and e-store. 

In Athens, Greece, it is available in the King George boutique at Syntagma Square.

Etat Libre d'Orage Exit the King: fragrance review

 When Etat Libre d'Orange introduced Exit the King as a soapy fragrance to the perfume loving crowd it was lost upon the majority that the tale derived from not Shakespeare, but a surrealist play of the same name by Ionesco.

open rose peonies kleenexArabia on X via pinterest

From the feeling of well-being in classical times (when people used a mix of ashes and olive oil) to the purification concept in later Christianity, all the way to its ambiguous modern connotations of both Puritanical "cleanliness next to godliness" and the loaded innuendo of superficially washing away improper smells deriving from fornication, the history of soap is full of interesting trivia and manifestations of perception put before smell.

 Perfumers Ralf Schwieger and Cecille Matton created Exit the King, which launched in 2020. Presented as a chypre, whose name and story refer to Eugene Ionesco’s play from 1962, the fragrance is the third instalment of what appears to be the founder Etienne de Swardt‘s perfume narrative about perfumery itself. Here however, the name of the king who is about to exit, to die, isn’t Berenger. It is Etienne himself and when the curtain rises, the narrative sees Etienne already yielded in submission to a new sovereign, a woman named Lola, sentenced to lose his head. Before the deadly final act, Etienne presents his last perfume, a new chypre for the new world coming after him.

 Etienne was put down on record saying, “I think that I have to reinvent Etat Libre D’Orange a little bit,” he said. “I want to move the brand to a new era. I’m trying to find a new way to extend the brand’s visibility without corrupting the philosophy. I have 28 perfumes and I cannot add a 29th or a 30th. So I think this is the end of a cycle."

Hence Fin du Monde (end of the world), see what he did there?

 This is a different take on word play, Exit the King is exiting the concept of both soap and chypre, which are part of its presentation. It's ROSE first and foremost.

  In Exit the King we are met with a strong and very discernible rose, dense and dry like pot pourri, which rises with a mock sweet element from the bottom up. It's felt upon spraying on skin and it rises and surfaces again and again as the scent dries. Is it good? It is if you like roses. It can be a little too rosy if you're averse to them, especially if the dried-up varieties put in a bowl bring elements of melancholia and a certain miserliness in you. It's rather easy to wear, as a personal fragrance, like most newer ELDO fragrances are. I do yearn for some of the old revolutionary spirit in the French brand by Etienne, but hey, monarchy is also an obsolete institution too. In Exit the King, the play by Ionesco finds its surrealistic realization indeed. Nothing is as it seems.

Montale Luban -incense with guts: fragrance review

 There is a serenity but also a dark horror surrounding incense. The zen and the apocryphal. Which is which, each time? While Kilian's Incense Oud composition is overwhelmingly frankincense dominant rather than aloeswood (oudh), which is exactly why I like it so much, in Montale's Louban, the dominance of frankincense betrays the given pyramid and audience's impressions: there is no distinct oudh with its usual bitter, medicinal and smoky nuance, but neither is it associated with the Middle East, being more reminiscent of Ethiopian dry landscapes with their resinous bushes and trees. 

Nummen by Husvik, via Pinterest

 

Mysterious citrusy-pine effects zing at the top of Montale Louban, as sour and crystal clear white frankincense does (after all, this is what luban means according to our Arab speaking readers) and this overwhelms the nostrils initially. A phase that may be considered sharp by non-mystics, but necessary for the spiritual uplifting and purification that frankincense brings - literally and figuratively.

And because the heat is rising as we speak, coupled with Saharan sand winds that travel over the Mediterranean, this dry incense has been keeping me company for the gloomiest days when the sky is cast with this alien shade of orange-grey that denotes a Saharan gust of sand storm...It's priceless.