Poivre by Caron plays out like J.S Bach's double concerto for 2 violins in D minor, 1st movement: Two complimenting themes, carnation and clove, in contrapuntal dialogue, one finishing off the phrase of another in a leitmotif which manages to punctuate time with its own special seal. Despite its name, which means pepper in French, and the vicious-looking studded with peppercorns bottle, Poivre features the hot "king of spice" in a supporting role. To bring the musical analogy full circle, let's just say pepper in Poivre is the basso continuo.
Poivre is the kind of fragrance that creates the feeling J.S Bach compositions stir in my soul and has been a longtime companion for as far back as I was aware of Caron; if not as far back as Bach. There is such contextualised coherence that everything in the world seems at its rightful place, everything in perfect, clashing harmony. If the composer once walked 200 miles to hear Dieterich Buxtehude play the organ, I'd walk on hot coals to get an ounce of Poivre parfum in its vintage state.
History of Creation
In 1953, Félicie Wanpouille -savvy of the emergence of a different aesthetic inaugarated with the New Look by Dior- asked perfumer Michel Morsetti for a fragrance that would be out of whack with its times. Morsetti had already created (at least 2) classics in the Caron stable: Farnesiana (1947), Rose (1949), and Muguet du Bonheur (1952). The fifties were all about good-mannered lactonic florals and sheer floral chypres continuing from the late 1940s. Only Youth Dew was braving the wave, making it possible later for Cinnabar, Opium and all the rest of the Medina-spice caravan-brocard tapestry orientals that followed. Michel Morsetti obliged and in 1954 Poivre emerged; impulsive, rich, sinful, drop dead sexy! "Parfum de la femme moderne" as per the vintage advertisements: the perfume of the modern woman.
The bottle design with the peppercorn studs was no doubt a throwback to classic pomanders which relied on cloves for their antimicrobial prophylactic properties; perfume as medicine...
Scent Description
The original 1950s advertisements featured a Chinese-style dragon, in tune with the firecracking pyrotechnics of the fragrance's fiery breath. The daredevil spices open the scene, intense clove, flanked by pepper, and they come back again and again in an endless recycling and expansion of the leitmotif, a structure that is reminiscent of older ways of composing, but maxed out to orgiastic effect. The lush floral chord is built on carnation and ylang ylang, the peppery bite of one falling into the solar embrace of the other. As the scent progresses, there is a hint of vanilla, hazy opoponax and leather on the skin, a soft focus camera lens on a racy subject. The combination of carnation and leather brings to mind another Caron legend, En Avion, dedicated to women in aviation.
Coup de Fouet & comparison with Poivre
Poivre was conceived as the original extrait de parfum creation out of which Coup de Fouet (a most brilliant & fitting name, "crack of the whip") emerged as a diluted Eau de Cologne Poivrée. The theme is similar, the effect somewhat lighter in the weaker concentration, with a boosted effect of rose that is orientalised, spicy and raspy, still mighty impressive. Coup de Fouet is as warm as a fur coat and as commanding attention. It prompted writer Susan Irvine to state it's "what Cruella de Vil would have worn"; so if you're the soft type crying over those poor 101 Dalmatians and can't manage a streak of bitchiness, don't even bother.
Coup de Fouet nowadays is offered at Caron boutiques as the Eau de Parfum analogue of Poivre extrait, the latter also available there from the fabulous crystal samovars affectionately referred to as "urns".
Both concentrations are totally passable (nay, downright alluring!) on men as well.
Reformulation of Poivre and Coup de Fouet
Contemporary batches of both fragrances seem to insist on a mustier, soapy rose and have less of a spicy oriental character, falling into the limbo state of floriental. Sadly Poivre (and Coup de Fouet as well, since they share those notes) faces IFRA restrictions on spicy materials which no doubt will leave future generations wondering what all the fuss was about anyway. Tragic, in view of Poivre (in the classic peppercorn flacon in Baccarat crystal) ranking as #3 of "top most expensive perfumes in the world" [$2,000 for 2 oz]....
When this happens the dragon loses its fire, the whole world gets out of whack and Bach isn't be there to save the day.
Notes for Caron Poivre: (add rose for Coup de Fouet)
Red pepper, black pepper, clou de girofle (clove), carnation, ylang ylang, jasmine, opoponax, cedar, sandalwood, vetiver, oakmoss, musk.
Painting "The Sense of Hearing" by Jan Brueghel the Elder. Ads via beckerstreet.com and vintageadbrowser.com
Showing posts sorted by relevance for query caron poivre. Sort by date Show all posts
Showing posts sorted by relevance for query caron poivre. Sort by date Show all posts
Thursday, January 5, 2012
Tuesday, July 21, 2009
Caron With Pleasure: fragrance review & Caron history
Certain fragrances grab you by the throat and demand to be asked "What are you talking about anyway?" Whether they do it via shock value or by undecipherable codes posing an enigma it is a matter of semiotics.
One such scent is With Pleasure, belying its very name, not because it is repulsive, but because it is on the edge of consciousness nagging you to tilt your head once more and mubble again "what is it about it, then?"
The Unknown Perfumer at Caron: Michel Morsetti
Caron's With Pleasure was issued in 1949, composed by perfumer Michel Morsetti, two years after the self-taught founder, Ernest Daltroff, had passed away. The bottle was customarily designed by Félicie Bergaud (née Félicie Vanpouille and the collaborator of Daltroff, with whom they shared an open, and controversial at the time, relationship out of wedlock). Contemporary to both Or et Noir (Gold and Black) and Rose it remained in their long shadow, a secret to be unveiled by those in the know. The same year also saw the introduction of the original version of Caron's Pour Une Femme, later discontinued and then re-issued in 2001 in an altered formula. It seems that the end of the war and the decade drawing to a close saw an orgiastic productivity at Caron! Yet although the former fragrances continue their unhindered path (with slight tweaks along the way), With Pleasure has been discontinued and become rare, a true collectible.
Michel Morsetti has been responsible for all these fragrances, along with others in the Caron stable of thouroughbreds in the late 1940s and 1950s, notably the cassie-rich almost gourmand Farnesiana (1947), the relatively unknown marvel Tabac Noir (1948) ~a counterpoint to the famous Tabac Blond of the roaring 20s~, the lily-of-the-valley ballet Muguet de bonheur (1952), and the fiery, peppercorn fury of Poivre and its lighter concentration Coup de Fouet (1954). Royal Bain de Champagne is also attributed to Morsetti, despite it being issued in 1941, at a time when Daltroff was still alive. Incidentally many of the classic Carons and a history of the house of Caron are covered in Parfum: Prestige et Haute Couture by Jean-Yves Gaborit (editions Fribourg, 1985).
The vereable French house started from meagre beginnings in 1901-1902 when Russian-Jewish brothers Ernest and Raoul Daltroff bought the small parfumeria "Emilia", located on rue Rossini in Paris, evident in their first fragrance baptized Royal Emilia in 1904. Aided by an obscure acquaintance named Kahann with deep pockets, Ernest Daltroff moved the address to 10 rue de la Paix and renamed it "Caron", with which name it became synonymous with French style and "fit for a duchess" chic, according to an infamous quote.
If there is a signature Caron-ade running through the fabric of the older vintage Carons, it is evident in With Pleasure, without doubt: a dark rose with musty, slightly earthy tonalities is peeking its face underneath a green-herbal façade. The rosiness is an upside-down image of the darker and rosier Or et Noir, with an almost anisic touch. The greeness of With pleasure is not chypré, nevertheless, but rather tilted into an aldehydic direction with a non tangy citrusy accent, folded into the rosiness along with snuffed-out candles notes. The more strident, angular chypres of the 50s were competing with more traditionally feminine aldehydics and their proper lady image; so very fitting, after the return of women to the home, the kitchen and the boudoir following the loaded responsibilities they had shouldered during the hard WWII days which helped emancipate them further.
There is nothing upbeat or girly about the scent, on the contrary there is a quiet mood, but one can sense that this is no mere capriciousness but a frank introspection, a look into a different angle of an at-heart secretive personality who lives her life day by day. I am not sure whether I like it or not, but it keeps asking me neverthless.
The English name alludes to an international venture, capitalizing on the rave reception that Narcisse Noir, Caron's leading fragrance of 1911, had received on the other side of the Atlantic thanks to its potency.
The bottle in Bacarrat crystal is old-fashioned, tactile and round and can be imagined on the vanity of a lady with ebony brushes bearing boar bristles for hair that is brushed a hundred times every night by an attentive chambermaid: A crystal flacon shaped like a honey jar with a T-shaped stopper resembling a glamorous pastry-roll on top (technically this design is called tonnelet) and the name "With Pleasure" emblazoned on the front. The Bacarrat signature in acid on the bottom seals its aunthenticity.
Related reading on Perfume Shrine: Fragrance History, Caron scents , Aldehydes
Photographs by Luca Cornel of Brenda Lee via fishup.ru, Ad pic via ebay, With Pleasure flacons via coutaubegarie.auction.fr
One such scent is With Pleasure, belying its very name, not because it is repulsive, but because it is on the edge of consciousness nagging you to tilt your head once more and mubble again "what is it about it, then?"The Unknown Perfumer at Caron: Michel Morsetti
Caron's With Pleasure was issued in 1949, composed by perfumer Michel Morsetti, two years after the self-taught founder, Ernest Daltroff, had passed away. The bottle was customarily designed by Félicie Bergaud (née Félicie Vanpouille and the collaborator of Daltroff, with whom they shared an open, and controversial at the time, relationship out of wedlock). Contemporary to both Or et Noir (Gold and Black) and Rose it remained in their long shadow, a secret to be unveiled by those in the know. The same year also saw the introduction of the original version of Caron's Pour Une Femme, later discontinued and then re-issued in 2001 in an altered formula. It seems that the end of the war and the decade drawing to a close saw an orgiastic productivity at Caron! Yet although the former fragrances continue their unhindered path (with slight tweaks along the way), With Pleasure has been discontinued and become rare, a true collectible.
Michel Morsetti has been responsible for all these fragrances, along with others in the Caron stable of thouroughbreds in the late 1940s and 1950s, notably the cassie-rich almost gourmand Farnesiana (1947), the relatively unknown marvel Tabac Noir (1948) ~a counterpoint to the famous Tabac Blond of the roaring 20s~, the lily-of-the-valley ballet Muguet de bonheur (1952), and the fiery, peppercorn fury of Poivre and its lighter concentration Coup de Fouet (1954). Royal Bain de Champagne is also attributed to Morsetti, despite it being issued in 1941, at a time when Daltroff was still alive. Incidentally many of the classic Carons and a history of the house of Caron are covered in Parfum: Prestige et Haute Couture by Jean-Yves Gaborit (editions Fribourg, 1985).The vereable French house started from meagre beginnings in 1901-1902 when Russian-Jewish brothers Ernest and Raoul Daltroff bought the small parfumeria "Emilia", located on rue Rossini in Paris, evident in their first fragrance baptized Royal Emilia in 1904. Aided by an obscure acquaintance named Kahann with deep pockets, Ernest Daltroff moved the address to 10 rue de la Paix and renamed it "Caron", with which name it became synonymous with French style and "fit for a duchess" chic, according to an infamous quote.
If there is a signature Caron-ade running through the fabric of the older vintage Carons, it is evident in With Pleasure, without doubt: a dark rose with musty, slightly earthy tonalities is peeking its face underneath a green-herbal façade. The rosiness is an upside-down image of the darker and rosier Or et Noir, with an almost anisic touch. The greeness of With pleasure is not chypré, nevertheless, but rather tilted into an aldehydic direction with a non tangy citrusy accent, folded into the rosiness along with snuffed-out candles notes. The more strident, angular chypres of the 50s were competing with more traditionally feminine aldehydics and their proper lady image; so very fitting, after the return of women to the home, the kitchen and the boudoir following the loaded responsibilities they had shouldered during the hard WWII days which helped emancipate them further.There is nothing upbeat or girly about the scent, on the contrary there is a quiet mood, but one can sense that this is no mere capriciousness but a frank introspection, a look into a different angle of an at-heart secretive personality who lives her life day by day. I am not sure whether I like it or not, but it keeps asking me neverthless.
The English name alludes to an international venture, capitalizing on the rave reception that Narcisse Noir, Caron's leading fragrance of 1911, had received on the other side of the Atlantic thanks to its potency.
The bottle in Bacarrat crystal is old-fashioned, tactile and round and can be imagined on the vanity of a lady with ebony brushes bearing boar bristles for hair that is brushed a hundred times every night by an attentive chambermaid: A crystal flacon shaped like a honey jar with a T-shaped stopper resembling a glamorous pastry-roll on top (technically this design is called tonnelet) and the name "With Pleasure" emblazoned on the front. The Bacarrat signature in acid on the bottom seals its aunthenticity.Related reading on Perfume Shrine: Fragrance History, Caron scents , Aldehydes
Photographs by Luca Cornel of Brenda Lee via fishup.ru, Ad pic via ebay, With Pleasure flacons via coutaubegarie.auction.fr
Friday, July 8, 2011
Past Ascribed Gender: Best Masculine Fragrances for Women, Best Feminine Fragrances for Men
How does the ascribed "gender" of fine fragrance impact our decision to try or enjoy something? Conservative mores, which for long viewed fragrance as essentially a feminine accessory, would frown if they could at the thought. But not long past, in the Victorian era men were enthusiastically drenching their lapels and their handkerchiefs with their preferred fragrance, usually floral-derived, to exude a polished, cultivated image. Ancient men and women knew of the power of aromatics and smeared them on their bodies without much regard for whether spikenard or myrrh was considered feminine or masculine.
Nowadays famous and not so famous people regularly bend the rules and cross over to the other side of the counter: My hairdresser's assistant admits she likes to use men's scents because she likes "heavy, spicy stuff"; she's a curvaceous dirty blonde with cherubic features. Angelina Jolie has been wearing Carolina Herrera for men and Bulgari Black for years, both marketed to the XY chromatosome carriers. Kylie Minogue goes for ApoM pour Homme by Maison Francis Kurkdjian. Ruggedly male Sean Connery loves Jicky by Guerlain, which is a gender bender perfume to end all gender benders; changing sex direction mid-stream in its illustrious career like an adolescent fulfiling a transgender urge. Quirky French actor Jean Hughes Angland likes to dab such bombshell fragrances as Boucheron Femme and Chanel No.5; he finds it unusual and more interesting. Cross-dressing can be sexy, not only in fashion but in intimate accessories as well, such as fragrance. When bodies come closer and the lights dim, the mind spins at the possibilities.
Of course most fragrances in the niche industry today, be it from Parfumerie Generale, Serge Lutens, Montale, Nasomatto, L'Artisan Parfumeur etc. do not put a specific label of gender on their products, or at the most, they say that fragrances can be shared between the sexes, even if intended mainly for one out of them. So, for our purposes, I won't include them in this small "top gender bender fragrances" list things which are obviously marketed as shared/unisex, but rather things that would surprise. You can feel free to bend any niche to your own devices and see if it fits; the creators won't raise any eyebrow.
Best Masculine Fragrances for Women
Cartier Déclaration
Déclaration successfully juxtaposes fresh tonalities with cardamom on top with more risqué animal magnetism in an idiosyncratic mix which is arresting.
Chanel Egoiste
The succulent mix of dried fruits and woods in Egoiste is Lutensian before Lutens and thus eminentaly shareable for the ladies.
Dior Homme
Nothing predisposes one for the dusky, fruity iris hiding at the core of a fragrance tagged "Homme" so blatantly. Today's hommes are more liberal in their cologne choice and so should you be too!
Dior Eau Sauvage
The bracing tang of a good citric cologne with a floral heart of glass-smooth transparency is as good as anything for cheering men or women up. Eau Sauvage is a classic for a reason and has been relentlessly borrowed since its launch in the 1960s.
Hermès Équipage
For days when nothing but a little butch, yet supremely elegant package fulfills a woman's needs, Équipage is a thoroughbred that gallops steadily.
Guerlain Héritage
The definition of rich woody, cuddly but not maudlin. Héritage is classy and pliable enough to wear with homewear when inviting that special someone over.
Guerlain Vétiver
So lovely that it's a shame not partaking of its effortless charms. A citrusy vetiver with a light tobacco background Guerlain's Vétiver is a marvel to be shared.
Goutal Annick Sables
Technically Sables is presented as a masculine and was indeed conceived for a man, but the sweet caramel background, fusing immortelle and smoky vanilla, is great on women too.
Best Feminine Fragrances for Men
Caron Poivre
Dense, peppery-tingling, warm, somewhat dangerous. Don't you want your lover to be so? I thought so. Poivre (vintage extrait) is a marvel for that sort of thing.
Chanel Coco Mademoiselle
Now that this is code for 20/30 something cute woman out on the prowl at parties despite the "independent" ads, men can have a field day with this hesperidic fruits, rose, jasmine and patchouli harmony.
Chanel Cuir de Russie
The aristocratic Chanel classic Cuir de Russie, with its iris fond on birch tar leathery accord, always spoke of tweed suits and a leather-upholstered Bentley and those are great things for a man to be seen in. Why not smelled in, as well?
Jacomo Silences
So bitter, starkly green and angular that men will find Silences totally approachable in small doses and not frilly at all.
Grès Cabochard
Really, Cabochard is so close to masculine standard Aramis (both leathery chypres with animalic tonalities, composed by the same perfumer, Bernand Chant) that the leap is self-explanatory. Just get the vintage version in this one.
Piguet Bandit
Bandit is an ash-tray and bitter green quinolines leather chypre. Its creator, Germaine Cellier, was dykey and inspired by models' sweaty underpants. Heterosexual men might find that idea...intriguing for their own reasons.
Tauer Perfumes Une Rose Chyprée
The name predisposes you for a supremely feminine composition. The reality of Une Rose Chyprée is a glorious fragrance for either sex uniting roses with the chypre accord for an intense, retro yet modern feel.
Yves Saint Laurent Opium
Opium by Saint Laurent possesses that classic iron-pressed-linens starchy feel that makes it smell "clean" despite the density of its chords. The spiciness is lifting it into a realm not miles away from masculine offerings.
And of course we can't exclude afore-mentioned Guerlain Jicky, Bulgari Black et al.
Pics:
Women as Men shot by Helmut Newton.
Oliver Theyskens looking like Frida Kahlo, shot by Karl Lagerfeld for the Maison Michel Spring 2011 lookbook
Nowadays famous and not so famous people regularly bend the rules and cross over to the other side of the counter: My hairdresser's assistant admits she likes to use men's scents because she likes "heavy, spicy stuff"; she's a curvaceous dirty blonde with cherubic features. Angelina Jolie has been wearing Carolina Herrera for men and Bulgari Black for years, both marketed to the XY chromatosome carriers. Kylie Minogue goes for ApoM pour Homme by Maison Francis Kurkdjian. Ruggedly male Sean Connery loves Jicky by Guerlain, which is a gender bender perfume to end all gender benders; changing sex direction mid-stream in its illustrious career like an adolescent fulfiling a transgender urge. Quirky French actor Jean Hughes Angland likes to dab such bombshell fragrances as Boucheron Femme and Chanel No.5; he finds it unusual and more interesting. Cross-dressing can be sexy, not only in fashion but in intimate accessories as well, such as fragrance. When bodies come closer and the lights dim, the mind spins at the possibilities.
Of course most fragrances in the niche industry today, be it from Parfumerie Generale, Serge Lutens, Montale, Nasomatto, L'Artisan Parfumeur etc. do not put a specific label of gender on their products, or at the most, they say that fragrances can be shared between the sexes, even if intended mainly for one out of them. So, for our purposes, I won't include them in this small "top gender bender fragrances" list things which are obviously marketed as shared/unisex, but rather things that would surprise. You can feel free to bend any niche to your own devices and see if it fits; the creators won't raise any eyebrow.
Best Masculine Fragrances for Women
Cartier Déclaration
Déclaration successfully juxtaposes fresh tonalities with cardamom on top with more risqué animal magnetism in an idiosyncratic mix which is arresting.
Chanel Egoiste
The succulent mix of dried fruits and woods in Egoiste is Lutensian before Lutens and thus eminentaly shareable for the ladies.
Dior Homme
Nothing predisposes one for the dusky, fruity iris hiding at the core of a fragrance tagged "Homme" so blatantly. Today's hommes are more liberal in their cologne choice and so should you be too!
Dior Eau Sauvage
The bracing tang of a good citric cologne with a floral heart of glass-smooth transparency is as good as anything for cheering men or women up. Eau Sauvage is a classic for a reason and has been relentlessly borrowed since its launch in the 1960s.
Hermès Équipage
For days when nothing but a little butch, yet supremely elegant package fulfills a woman's needs, Équipage is a thoroughbred that gallops steadily.
Guerlain Héritage
The definition of rich woody, cuddly but not maudlin. Héritage is classy and pliable enough to wear with homewear when inviting that special someone over.
Guerlain Vétiver
So lovely that it's a shame not partaking of its effortless charms. A citrusy vetiver with a light tobacco background Guerlain's Vétiver is a marvel to be shared.
Goutal Annick Sables
Technically Sables is presented as a masculine and was indeed conceived for a man, but the sweet caramel background, fusing immortelle and smoky vanilla, is great on women too.
Best Feminine Fragrances for Men
Caron Poivre
Dense, peppery-tingling, warm, somewhat dangerous. Don't you want your lover to be so? I thought so. Poivre (vintage extrait) is a marvel for that sort of thing.
Chanel Coco Mademoiselle
Now that this is code for 20/30 something cute woman out on the prowl at parties despite the "independent" ads, men can have a field day with this hesperidic fruits, rose, jasmine and patchouli harmony.
Chanel Cuir de Russie
The aristocratic Chanel classic Cuir de Russie, with its iris fond on birch tar leathery accord, always spoke of tweed suits and a leather-upholstered Bentley and those are great things for a man to be seen in. Why not smelled in, as well?
Jacomo Silences
So bitter, starkly green and angular that men will find Silences totally approachable in small doses and not frilly at all.
Grès Cabochard
Really, Cabochard is so close to masculine standard Aramis (both leathery chypres with animalic tonalities, composed by the same perfumer, Bernand Chant) that the leap is self-explanatory. Just get the vintage version in this one.
Piguet Bandit
Bandit is an ash-tray and bitter green quinolines leather chypre. Its creator, Germaine Cellier, was dykey and inspired by models' sweaty underpants. Heterosexual men might find that idea...intriguing for their own reasons.
Tauer Perfumes Une Rose Chyprée
The name predisposes you for a supremely feminine composition. The reality of Une Rose Chyprée is a glorious fragrance for either sex uniting roses with the chypre accord for an intense, retro yet modern feel.
Yves Saint Laurent Opium
Opium by Saint Laurent possesses that classic iron-pressed-linens starchy feel that makes it smell "clean" despite the density of its chords. The spiciness is lifting it into a realm not miles away from masculine offerings.
And of course we can't exclude afore-mentioned Guerlain Jicky, Bulgari Black et al.
What's YOUR favourite gender bender fragrance you can easily pull off?
Pics:
Women as Men shot by Helmut Newton.
Oliver Theyskens looking like Frida Kahlo, shot by Karl Lagerfeld for the Maison Michel Spring 2011 lookbook
Thursday, April 11, 2013
La Belle Epoque in Clove-Scented Buds & Modern Carnation Fragrances
There's something about the imaginary buds of pepper and clove that conjure the drawing rooms of La Belle Epoque, where carnation bouquets were bursting off their vases, and of funereal wreaths heaving with the sadness of the vanished; an illusion, an unaccountable stay of execution, the carnation blossoms. This tightly swirled affair of fragrant petals, so disregarded, so pedestrian, so much of a filler flower. And yet...From deep beneath its corolla comes the scent of a bygone era and the remnants of romance; a spicy effluvium that speaks of anticipative prom corsages as much as of hidden passions.
REFLECTIONS ON AN WEARY EYE
Oscar Wilde himself, king of hidden passions, was infamous for his allegiance to the curly blossom which decorated his groomed attire, as much as his homoerotic proclivities; it was "The Green Carnation", a short-lived but widely read scandalous novel from 1894 that supposedly reprised the illicit love affair of the Irish author with Lord Alfred Douglas, which damaged his reputation beyond repair and was held against him in a court of law. Subsequent lore even goes as far as to suggest that the green carnation on his lapel was a nod to the Parisian pederast scene, and yet there is absolutely no evidence to suggest that it was so; in fact were there any shred of truth in that claim it would have been presented during his libel trial regarding the Marquess of Queensbury. But such is the nature of the flower; it provokes with both its voluptuous appearance and its spicy bouquet which removes it from the realm of the chaste and the virginal into the territory of the fierce. After all, in the language of flowers a deep red carnation stands for mad love and affection. Pink and white carnations on the other hand represent a mother's love, enshrined into becoming the official Mother's Day blossom, inspired by the religious tale of having sprang from the earth from the tears of the Virgin Mary weeping for her son on the cross.
If your only acquaintance with carnations (Dianthus caryophyllus) is the refrigerated, florist shop, overbred kind that fills bouquets of more posh flowers in need of a larger budget, or sad, funeral wreaths, the jolting into smelling the vanilla-laced yet oddly phenolic, smoky pepperiness of a good garden variety -such as the Sweet William or the revived Malmaison carnations (reprised in the now discontinued Floris fragrance by the very name), huge and headily fragrant- is enough to make you reconsider.
Most carnation scents harken back to old days quite factually. The incontestable Poivre and the diluée Coup de Fouet, both Caron, are badges of another era, when a Cruella Deville warmth emanating from a plush fur coat was considered the height of chic instead of an invasion of private space and asinine disregard for animal rights. Bellodgia, another Caron, this time more romantic rather than baroque, with its sweetish, soft halo was a huge success when it came out in 1927, reminiscent of Italian vacations. Today it is considered nostalgically retro, too signora for today's signorinas. Ernest Daltroff, the maverick perfumer and founder of the French house, was extremely fond of carnation, nevertheless, injecting it along with his equally beloved Mousse de Saxe like a stealth superpower in almost everything he made. It is unfathomable to speak of carnation fragrances without mentioning the Caron canon; En Avion, Or et Noir, Le Troisieme Homme...there's no end. Even in modern Caron releases, such as the liturgical leaning Parfum Sacre, carnation plays an important role, it's a true fetish!
The prime of carnation fragrances came in the 1920s and all the fragrances of the period are specimens constructed on cloves, with which carnations share facets, as we will see further on. This genre, a, harmonious spicy blend, was considered evocative of the tropics, fanned on cardamom, coriander, cinnamon, cloves and pepper, alongside heady, narcotic flowers, in tune with the Orientalism that pervaded the roaring 20s. Guerlain even revisited this idea with their modern Terracota Voile d'Ete a while ago. Most of those fragrances however, like Oeillet Fane by Grenoville, Patou's Adieu Sagesse or Lancome's Fleches, have all but disappeared with (almost) no trace. Blue Carnation by Roger & Gallet was very popular, ensuring a continued existence, but it finally capitulated; the 1937 scent's been discontinued to the dismay of many; at least the soap survives. If we know and recognize a carnation in a complex blend today we owe it most of all to the enduring success of L'Air du Temps by Nina Ricci, the fragrance which in 1947 consolidated what Coty's L'Origan had inaugurated in 1905 and which L'Heure Bleue made impossibly romantic, the spicy floral. Indeed L'Air du Temps owes a lot to the spicy chord inside its complex, nuanced heart, making the fragrance piquant instead of merely soft and pretty.
This trick is carried over to other fragrances, sometimes NOT specifically within the soliflore category, following the Ricci paradigm: Charlie (Revlon), Norell (Norell and later Revlon), Balahe (Leonard), all take carnation to the bosom to inject a much needed accent, even in greener compositions. Some even take things further, proposing the spicy floral in an orientalized blend, such as Vol de Nuit (Guerlain), Dioressence (Dior) Opium (Yves Saint Laurent), Cinnabar and Spellbound (both Lauder) the original Poison (Dior), Roma (Laura Biagotti)..... The carnation there imparts a fresh spiciness amidst the heftier elements. We might as well see the breakthrough of this latter trend in the potent carnation direction of Tabu by perfumer Jean Carles.
Contemporary creators are not indifferent to such a fierce adherence to this passionate note: Jar's Golgonda behaves like a grand-daughter to Coup de Fouet, clotted cream inside the fieriness, one can almost picture it on the proverbial feisty red-head. Diamond Water is still carnation, but lighter and more transient, with a metallic quality, like a cross between Parfum Sacre and Bellodgia. Garofano, dense and almost thorny to wade through, by Lorenzo Villoresi, is a successor of the hefty tradition. Modern fragrances with a rather light-hearted, unisex character include Dianthus by Etro and Comme des Garcons Carnation from Series 2 Red. Masculine scents, incontestably virile, also utilize carnation for good measure: look no further than Equipage by Hermes, Cacharel pour Homme, Tabac Original (Mauer & Wirtz), Worth Pour Homme and the classic standby Old Spice.
THE PERFUMER'S ART
Eugenol and isoeugenol are practically inseparable in nature so it makes sense to use both when constructing a carnation accord. The former appears prominently in cloves, as well as in allspice and bay leaf, but also in basil and floral essences (rose, ylang ylang, jasmine), while the latter (detectable in nutmeg and mace) is more floral-balsamic, accounting for a truer "carnation blossom" scent.
L'Artisan Parfumeur's wondrously natural-smelling and deliciously soft carnation scent, sadly discontinued, Oeillet Sauvage, was based on two main floral components: rose and ylang ylang, no doubt aided by spicy accents. Etro's dianthus is a similar take. Guerlain experimented in Metallica, renamed Metalys, when the band objected. The whole exercise proved unpopular however, making the remaining bottles rare collectibles. Maitre Parfumeur et Gantier Soie Rouge is a rich, satisfying carnation with a generous side of good materials. Prada has Oeillet in the boutique exclusive line.
"Natural rose extract and ylang essential oils are the real thing: rich in depth and volume, varying in quality and ...expensive. Especially the rose oil. The "cheat" there is to use nice and cheaper rose and ylang bases provided by industry. Mostly synthetic, but doing the trick for the large scale markets." says Andy Tauer of niche line Tauer Perfumes. Rose is exactly the trick in Eternity by Calvin Klein; the scent smells like carnations, but is built on roses.
The molecule 4-vinyl guiacacol, coming from grape-drived percursors in yeast and must, is an interesting proposition: in white wines it has the double edge of appearing like a fresh carnation in dilution or a dense clove off-note in concentration. The crucial percentage is dependent on grape variety, yeast strain used and the fermentation process, a delicate balance which shows the secret bond between carnation and cloves best of all.
Regardless of carnations falling out of fashion, the sweet-spicy note is frequently part of both women's and men's fragrances, and will remain so in the future. A number of compounds with a carnation character have been invented, supplementing the above stated naturals. Benzyl isoeugenol, or 2-methoxy-1-(phenylmethoxy)-4-(1-propenyl)benzene, a solid with a balsamic note and a powdery carnation-like sweetness, and Methyl Diantilis ® (Givaudan), or 2-ethoxy-4-(methoxymethyl)phenol, which has a sweet-smoky odor with powdery aspects reminiscent of carnation are two of the most popular ones.
The main constituents in the spicy bouquet of carnation are eugenol and isoeugenol. It is therefore unfortunate and foreboding that these substances are greatly rationed in the recent specifications of the SCCS and IFRA directives, signaling a recalibration of how a carnation accord is constructed in perfumery. But not all is blek: Eugenol is strong enough, even in the 0.5% limit in the final formula and new discoveries promise to preserve this retro spicy note.
Lately carnation is revisited anew: Vitriol d'Oeillet is a very recent release by Serge Lutens, steeped into the gothic and mystical ambience for which the maestro is known. If Lutens is doing it, everyone will soon be doing it.
REFLECTIONS ON AN WEARY EYE
Oscar Wilde himself, king of hidden passions, was infamous for his allegiance to the curly blossom which decorated his groomed attire, as much as his homoerotic proclivities; it was "The Green Carnation", a short-lived but widely read scandalous novel from 1894 that supposedly reprised the illicit love affair of the Irish author with Lord Alfred Douglas, which damaged his reputation beyond repair and was held against him in a court of law. Subsequent lore even goes as far as to suggest that the green carnation on his lapel was a nod to the Parisian pederast scene, and yet there is absolutely no evidence to suggest that it was so; in fact were there any shred of truth in that claim it would have been presented during his libel trial regarding the Marquess of Queensbury. But such is the nature of the flower; it provokes with both its voluptuous appearance and its spicy bouquet which removes it from the realm of the chaste and the virginal into the territory of the fierce. After all, in the language of flowers a deep red carnation stands for mad love and affection. Pink and white carnations on the other hand represent a mother's love, enshrined into becoming the official Mother's Day blossom, inspired by the religious tale of having sprang from the earth from the tears of the Virgin Mary weeping for her son on the cross.
If your only acquaintance with carnations (Dianthus caryophyllus) is the refrigerated, florist shop, overbred kind that fills bouquets of more posh flowers in need of a larger budget, or sad, funeral wreaths, the jolting into smelling the vanilla-laced yet oddly phenolic, smoky pepperiness of a good garden variety -such as the Sweet William or the revived Malmaison carnations (reprised in the now discontinued Floris fragrance by the very name), huge and headily fragrant- is enough to make you reconsider.
Most carnation scents harken back to old days quite factually. The incontestable Poivre and the diluée Coup de Fouet, both Caron, are badges of another era, when a Cruella Deville warmth emanating from a plush fur coat was considered the height of chic instead of an invasion of private space and asinine disregard for animal rights. Bellodgia, another Caron, this time more romantic rather than baroque, with its sweetish, soft halo was a huge success when it came out in 1927, reminiscent of Italian vacations. Today it is considered nostalgically retro, too signora for today's signorinas. Ernest Daltroff, the maverick perfumer and founder of the French house, was extremely fond of carnation, nevertheless, injecting it along with his equally beloved Mousse de Saxe like a stealth superpower in almost everything he made. It is unfathomable to speak of carnation fragrances without mentioning the Caron canon; En Avion, Or et Noir, Le Troisieme Homme...there's no end. Even in modern Caron releases, such as the liturgical leaning Parfum Sacre, carnation plays an important role, it's a true fetish!
The prime of carnation fragrances came in the 1920s and all the fragrances of the period are specimens constructed on cloves, with which carnations share facets, as we will see further on. This genre, a, harmonious spicy blend, was considered evocative of the tropics, fanned on cardamom, coriander, cinnamon, cloves and pepper, alongside heady, narcotic flowers, in tune with the Orientalism that pervaded the roaring 20s. Guerlain even revisited this idea with their modern Terracota Voile d'Ete a while ago. Most of those fragrances however, like Oeillet Fane by Grenoville, Patou's Adieu Sagesse or Lancome's Fleches, have all but disappeared with (almost) no trace. Blue Carnation by Roger & Gallet was very popular, ensuring a continued existence, but it finally capitulated; the 1937 scent's been discontinued to the dismay of many; at least the soap survives. If we know and recognize a carnation in a complex blend today we owe it most of all to the enduring success of L'Air du Temps by Nina Ricci, the fragrance which in 1947 consolidated what Coty's L'Origan had inaugurated in 1905 and which L'Heure Bleue made impossibly romantic, the spicy floral. Indeed L'Air du Temps owes a lot to the spicy chord inside its complex, nuanced heart, making the fragrance piquant instead of merely soft and pretty.
This trick is carried over to other fragrances, sometimes NOT specifically within the soliflore category, following the Ricci paradigm: Charlie (Revlon), Norell (Norell and later Revlon), Balahe (Leonard), all take carnation to the bosom to inject a much needed accent, even in greener compositions. Some even take things further, proposing the spicy floral in an orientalized blend, such as Vol de Nuit (Guerlain), Dioressence (Dior) Opium (Yves Saint Laurent), Cinnabar and Spellbound (both Lauder) the original Poison (Dior), Roma (Laura Biagotti)..... The carnation there imparts a fresh spiciness amidst the heftier elements. We might as well see the breakthrough of this latter trend in the potent carnation direction of Tabu by perfumer Jean Carles.
Contemporary creators are not indifferent to such a fierce adherence to this passionate note: Jar's Golgonda behaves like a grand-daughter to Coup de Fouet, clotted cream inside the fieriness, one can almost picture it on the proverbial feisty red-head. Diamond Water is still carnation, but lighter and more transient, with a metallic quality, like a cross between Parfum Sacre and Bellodgia. Garofano, dense and almost thorny to wade through, by Lorenzo Villoresi, is a successor of the hefty tradition. Modern fragrances with a rather light-hearted, unisex character include Dianthus by Etro and Comme des Garcons Carnation from Series 2 Red. Masculine scents, incontestably virile, also utilize carnation for good measure: look no further than Equipage by Hermes, Cacharel pour Homme, Tabac Original (Mauer & Wirtz), Worth Pour Homme and the classic standby Old Spice.
THE PERFUMER'S ART
Eugenol and isoeugenol are practically inseparable in nature so it makes sense to use both when constructing a carnation accord. The former appears prominently in cloves, as well as in allspice and bay leaf, but also in basil and floral essences (rose, ylang ylang, jasmine), while the latter (detectable in nutmeg and mace) is more floral-balsamic, accounting for a truer "carnation blossom" scent.
L'Artisan Parfumeur's wondrously natural-smelling and deliciously soft carnation scent, sadly discontinued, Oeillet Sauvage, was based on two main floral components: rose and ylang ylang, no doubt aided by spicy accents. Etro's dianthus is a similar take. Guerlain experimented in Metallica, renamed Metalys, when the band objected. The whole exercise proved unpopular however, making the remaining bottles rare collectibles. Maitre Parfumeur et Gantier Soie Rouge is a rich, satisfying carnation with a generous side of good materials. Prada has Oeillet in the boutique exclusive line.
![]() |
| originally taken by Dimitri Dimitriades (sorceryofscent.com) |
"Natural rose extract and ylang essential oils are the real thing: rich in depth and volume, varying in quality and ...expensive. Especially the rose oil. The "cheat" there is to use nice and cheaper rose and ylang bases provided by industry. Mostly synthetic, but doing the trick for the large scale markets." says Andy Tauer of niche line Tauer Perfumes. Rose is exactly the trick in Eternity by Calvin Klein; the scent smells like carnations, but is built on roses.
The molecule 4-vinyl guiacacol, coming from grape-drived percursors in yeast and must, is an interesting proposition: in white wines it has the double edge of appearing like a fresh carnation in dilution or a dense clove off-note in concentration. The crucial percentage is dependent on grape variety, yeast strain used and the fermentation process, a delicate balance which shows the secret bond between carnation and cloves best of all.
Regardless of carnations falling out of fashion, the sweet-spicy note is frequently part of both women's and men's fragrances, and will remain so in the future. A number of compounds with a carnation character have been invented, supplementing the above stated naturals. Benzyl isoeugenol, or 2-methoxy-1-(phenylmethoxy)-4-(1-propenyl)benzene, a solid with a balsamic note and a powdery carnation-like sweetness, and Methyl Diantilis ® (Givaudan), or 2-ethoxy-4-(methoxymethyl)phenol, which has a sweet-smoky odor with powdery aspects reminiscent of carnation are two of the most popular ones.
The main constituents in the spicy bouquet of carnation are eugenol and isoeugenol. It is therefore unfortunate and foreboding that these substances are greatly rationed in the recent specifications of the SCCS and IFRA directives, signaling a recalibration of how a carnation accord is constructed in perfumery. But not all is blek: Eugenol is strong enough, even in the 0.5% limit in the final formula and new discoveries promise to preserve this retro spicy note.
Lately carnation is revisited anew: Vitriol d'Oeillet is a very recent release by Serge Lutens, steeped into the gothic and mystical ambience for which the maestro is known. If Lutens is doing it, everyone will soon be doing it.
Tuesday, July 19, 2011
Serge Lutens Vitriol d'Oeillet: fragrance review & draw
"Sometimes he frets his instrument with the back of a kitchen knife or even a metal lipstick holder, giving it the clangy virility of the primitive country blues men". This descriptor for Bob Dylan's style fits the newest Serge Lutens creation to a T: clangy, virile in a rugged way, disruptive, angry and unusual are all characteristics of Vitriol d'Oeillet (meaning vitriol of carnation); an uncharacteristic carnation fragrance which breaks the mould of old fashioned powdery florals of the start of the 20th century, offering a futurist angry woody floral. In Vitriol d'Oeillet Lutens alludes to carnation via intense, corosive pepper and lily and invites us to think of carnations of red, feisty under the intense sun of Provence, and at the same time of the London fog hiding a gentleman killer à la Jack the Ripper, who sports a carnation in his buttonhole.
There's something to be said about 19th century and its fixation with death & violence, a kind of violence beyond the funereal association so many people have with carnations. The ethereally romantic image of the era gets shattered when we read Honoré de Balzac for instance: Madame Cibot is a widow twice-over, when her husband Rémonencq accidentally consumes the chalice of vitriol he was intending for his wife (in Cousin Pons)...Oil of vitriol features in many a 19th novella, not just Balzac.
Two especially memorable scenes have the caustic sulphuric acid unceremoniously thrown on a face (the acid works by releasing acids from their salts, i.e.sulphides); namely in George Gissing's The Nether World (1889) and Robert Louis Stevenson's The Ebb-Tide (1894). Perhaps what inspired those writers into using vitriol in fiction scene stealers as an aussault (an aussault to injustice, poverty and degradation), as well as a metonym for realism (a late 19th century claim to the explosive!), is what inspired Lutens himself; a desire to break loose with preconceptions about how a carnation fragrance should be: pretty, prim, feminine, dainty? Vitriol d'Oeillet is nothing of the sort!
But there's something to be said about Vitriol being in tune with Moorish sensibilities too, of which Lutens has long been an accolyte. Blue vitriol is copper (Cu), green vitriol is iron (Fe), and white vitriol is zinc (Zn), all Hermetic references for the initiated. Sulphuric acid (historically known as 'oil of vitriol') was formerly prepared from green vitriol in a ritual that crossed into the alchemical. The Moors sold vitriol preparations as an antiseptic panaceia. There's this thing in Shi'ism called ta'wil, it's this idea where "you take anything back to its root significance, its original self". A cleanse going for the bone!
On the other hand, in late 19th century carnations were innocent, popular buttonhole flowers; Oscar Wilde was said to sport one and companies producing such fragrances were a dime a dozen, rendering the carnation soliflore a dominating fragrance trend of the Victorian era. The dandified character of carnation scents has persisted: from old-image Floris Malmaison to Roger &Gallet's ever popular ~but ultimately discontinued~ Blue Carnation all the way to modern-day retro Dianthus by Etro.
The opening of Serge Lutens Vitriol d'Oeillet is sharp, caustic as befits the name though not smelling of sulphur, without the dense powdery note that surrounds the rich floral heart of retro carnations such as Caron's Bellodgia. After all, clove, the main spicy component in creating a carnation accord in perfumery, is called clou de girofle in French, same as a pointy "nail". But despite the disruptive nails on a chalkboard of the opening of the new Lutens fragrance, the progression of Vitriol d'Oeillet softens gradually; much like Tubéreuse Criminelle hides a silken polished floral embrace beneath the mentholated stage fright. In Vitriol d'Oeillet's case Serge hides the heart of a lush lily inside the spicy mantle. Indeed it is more of a lily than a carnation fragrance, as per the usual interpretation of carnation in perfumery.
The spices almost strangle the lily notes under cruel fingers: black pepper, pimento, nutmeg, cayenne pepper, pink pepper with its rosy hue, paprika and clove; in Serge Noire and Louve the spices serve as a panoramic "lift" to the other notes, here they reinforce what was a hint in the flower. The woody backdrop of cedar is softening the base, but lovers of Serge's and Sheldrake's candied-fruit-compote-in-a-cedar-bowl will not find the sweet oriental they have grown to expect. Vitriol d'Oeillet is resolutely spicy, rendered in woody floral tonalities that only slightly turn powdery towards the very end.
To give perfume comparisons: If you have always found Secret Mélange, from Les Caprices du Dandy collection by Maître Parfumeur et Gantier (a fragrance which dared to mix cold spices and flowers and harmonize the accord with warm woods) quite intriguing, you have good chances of liking the jarring nature of Vitriol d'Oeillet. So might lovers of Caron's Poivre (which is vastly superior nevertheless) or of the dark, suffused imagescape of Garofano by Lorenzo Villoresi and E.Lauder's intense Spellbound. If you were looking for a classic, dense, feminine carnation floral or a minimal contemporary treatment oif the note such as in Oeillet Sauvage by L'Artisan Parfumeur, you might be scared by this violent yet diaphanous offering.
Oddly for the actual formula, since it's chartreuse liqueur which is infused with carnation petals and alchemically it is green vitriol which hides the greatest power, Vitriol d'Oeillet if of a greyish-lilac tint which looks someplace between funereal and alluringly gothic-romantic. The sillage is well-behaved, indeed subtle, perhaps because vitriol derives from the Latin vitrium, meaning glass, therefore denoting a certain transparency and lightness. Vitriol d'Oeillet is androgynous with great lasting power that seems to grow in depth, becoming a little bit sweeter and woodier as time passes.
Serge Lutens Vitriol d'Oeillet belongs to the export line, available at select stockists around the world and at the official Lutens site, 95euros for 50ml of Eau de Parfum. The limited edition engraved bottles depicted cost much more.
A generous-sized decant is available for one lucky reader. Draw is now closed, thank you!
What is it you find intriguing about the concept?
There's something to be said about 19th century and its fixation with death & violence, a kind of violence beyond the funereal association so many people have with carnations. The ethereally romantic image of the era gets shattered when we read Honoré de Balzac for instance: Madame Cibot is a widow twice-over, when her husband Rémonencq accidentally consumes the chalice of vitriol he was intending for his wife (in Cousin Pons)...Oil of vitriol features in many a 19th novella, not just Balzac.
Two especially memorable scenes have the caustic sulphuric acid unceremoniously thrown on a face (the acid works by releasing acids from their salts, i.e.sulphides); namely in George Gissing's The Nether World (1889) and Robert Louis Stevenson's The Ebb-Tide (1894). Perhaps what inspired those writers into using vitriol in fiction scene stealers as an aussault (an aussault to injustice, poverty and degradation), as well as a metonym for realism (a late 19th century claim to the explosive!), is what inspired Lutens himself; a desire to break loose with preconceptions about how a carnation fragrance should be: pretty, prim, feminine, dainty? Vitriol d'Oeillet is nothing of the sort!
But there's something to be said about Vitriol being in tune with Moorish sensibilities too, of which Lutens has long been an accolyte. Blue vitriol is copper (Cu), green vitriol is iron (Fe), and white vitriol is zinc (Zn), all Hermetic references for the initiated. Sulphuric acid (historically known as 'oil of vitriol') was formerly prepared from green vitriol in a ritual that crossed into the alchemical. The Moors sold vitriol preparations as an antiseptic panaceia. There's this thing in Shi'ism called ta'wil, it's this idea where "you take anything back to its root significance, its original self". A cleanse going for the bone!
On the other hand, in late 19th century carnations were innocent, popular buttonhole flowers; Oscar Wilde was said to sport one and companies producing such fragrances were a dime a dozen, rendering the carnation soliflore a dominating fragrance trend of the Victorian era. The dandified character of carnation scents has persisted: from old-image Floris Malmaison to Roger &Gallet's ever popular ~but ultimately discontinued~ Blue Carnation all the way to modern-day retro Dianthus by Etro.
The opening of Serge Lutens Vitriol d'Oeillet is sharp, caustic as befits the name though not smelling of sulphur, without the dense powdery note that surrounds the rich floral heart of retro carnations such as Caron's Bellodgia. After all, clove, the main spicy component in creating a carnation accord in perfumery, is called clou de girofle in French, same as a pointy "nail". But despite the disruptive nails on a chalkboard of the opening of the new Lutens fragrance, the progression of Vitriol d'Oeillet softens gradually; much like Tubéreuse Criminelle hides a silken polished floral embrace beneath the mentholated stage fright. In Vitriol d'Oeillet's case Serge hides the heart of a lush lily inside the spicy mantle. Indeed it is more of a lily than a carnation fragrance, as per the usual interpretation of carnation in perfumery.
The spices almost strangle the lily notes under cruel fingers: black pepper, pimento, nutmeg, cayenne pepper, pink pepper with its rosy hue, paprika and clove; in Serge Noire and Louve the spices serve as a panoramic "lift" to the other notes, here they reinforce what was a hint in the flower. The woody backdrop of cedar is softening the base, but lovers of Serge's and Sheldrake's candied-fruit-compote-in-a-cedar-bowl will not find the sweet oriental they have grown to expect. Vitriol d'Oeillet is resolutely spicy, rendered in woody floral tonalities that only slightly turn powdery towards the very end.
To give perfume comparisons: If you have always found Secret Mélange, from Les Caprices du Dandy collection by Maître Parfumeur et Gantier (a fragrance which dared to mix cold spices and flowers and harmonize the accord with warm woods) quite intriguing, you have good chances of liking the jarring nature of Vitriol d'Oeillet. So might lovers of Caron's Poivre (which is vastly superior nevertheless) or of the dark, suffused imagescape of Garofano by Lorenzo Villoresi and E.Lauder's intense Spellbound. If you were looking for a classic, dense, feminine carnation floral or a minimal contemporary treatment oif the note such as in Oeillet Sauvage by L'Artisan Parfumeur, you might be scared by this violent yet diaphanous offering.
Oddly for the actual formula, since it's chartreuse liqueur which is infused with carnation petals and alchemically it is green vitriol which hides the greatest power, Vitriol d'Oeillet if of a greyish-lilac tint which looks someplace between funereal and alluringly gothic-romantic. The sillage is well-behaved, indeed subtle, perhaps because vitriol derives from the Latin vitrium, meaning glass, therefore denoting a certain transparency and lightness. Vitriol d'Oeillet is androgynous with great lasting power that seems to grow in depth, becoming a little bit sweeter and woodier as time passes.
Serge Lutens Vitriol d'Oeillet belongs to the export line, available at select stockists around the world and at the official Lutens site, 95euros for 50ml of Eau de Parfum. The limited edition engraved bottles depicted cost much more.
What is it you find intriguing about the concept?
Labels:
carnation,
chris sheldrake,
clove,
floral spicy,
lily,
new,
nutmeg,
pepper,
pimento,
review,
serge lutens,
vitriol d'oeillet,
woody floral
Friday, September 7, 2012
Puredistance Opardu: fragrance review & draw
I am doubtful as to whether an elegant yet lush floral with woody undertones is really reminiscent of the opulence of the 1920s and 1930s. Historically, I know these were years when florals were given the sheen of aldehydes, transposing them from worlds of flower beds into vistas of abstraction (Je Reviens by Worth, Chanel no.5, Bois des Iles), and big profuse chypres, often with decadent fruity notes (see the pineapple in Colony by Patou, the peach-skin in Mitsouko by Guerlain et al) or leathery scented accents (Cuir de Russie by Chanel, Scandal by Lanvin for instance), reigned supreme. In that sense Opardu, the latest fragrance by Puredistance, is rather incongruent, but it is delightful all the same in its own genre, much like all the fragrances in the line have proven so far: from the smooth bravado of M by Puredistance to the nostalgic femininity of Antonia, the compact line is well thought of, evidenced by the lack of continuous releases heaping up like an avalanche on us -much like it happens with some other niche lines that shall remain unnamed.
No, Puredistance makes an effort and as soon as the first transparent drops of the new elixir, Opardu, landed on my skin I knew that this was another quality fragrance from them. My only complaint? For a parfum concentration, it seems weaker, less lasting than the others. But don't let that stop you from trying for yourself.
The inspiration
The word 'OPARDU' is a creation of the owner and creative director of Puredistance: Jan Ewoud Vos. "When he came up with the word OPARDU he felt that this word had always been there, in a mysterious way... evocative and strangely familiar" the official story goes. I can't say it means anything specific to me, yet it does evoke leopards, bringing to mind Visconti's glorious and utterly romantic Il Gattopardo in mind.
"It took more than a year to further work out OPARDU. Central to the 'feeling' of OPARDU have been the expressive paintings of Kees van Dongen, in particular one of his illustrations for the book 'PARFUMS' by Paul Valéry, published in 1945 in a limited edition of 1000. (Jan Ewoud Vos is the owner of book no. 429)." [according to this info]
The bouquet in the middle below is an illustration of Kees van Dongen
The perfumer
When Jan Ewoud Vos showed this illustration of Kees Van Dongen - a rich and lush bouquet of flowers - to Annie Buzantian, the famous Master Perfumer from New York, she instantly fell in love with it. The first word that came to her mind was 'Opulence'. She also felt this nostalgic feeling for the early years of the previous century; the golden age of perfumery. And then her work began. As a starting point Annie used a reinterpretation of a classic carnation she had already created which was safely stored in one of her 'secret' drawers.
How it Smells
To my nose the dominating sensation is not of a classic carnation (those tended to be clove-spicy affairs, like in Caron's Poivre & Coup de Fouet), but rather of lilacs; pollen-dusted and with nectarous facets that mingle with a smidgen of green, transparent gardenia impression and a hint of powder and cedarwood. These lilacs are divested of their more melancholy, rained-upon ambience that En Passant by perfumer Olivia Giacobetti for Frederic Malle's perfume line has turned into a cult. That was a passing impression of walking under an umbrella in the early spring just catching a whiff of white lilacs in the distance from some stone and cement-walled garden afar. Here, in Opardu, the purple lilac is trembling under the morning sun and the white flower notes (not especially indolic, but not sanitized either) provide a tinge of honeyed sweetness. The wink of a bit of spice could be said to evoke a carnation interpretation, though I'm mostly struck by the inclusion of the non mentioned powdery soft and woody-earthy garland of ionones (rendering a violet note) and what I could liken to a hawthorn/mimosa note with a little muskiness. If you have always admired Vacances by Patou (1936) but have been frustrated by its rarity (now that even the 1980s reissue is discontinued for so long), Opardu can provide a good substitute.
This delicate bouquet in Opardu makes for a very feminine and subtle composition that is graceful rather than opulent and restrained in very good taste. I would have loved it to be a bit more maxed out for the opulent effect and for greater tenacity, but that's just me.
Notes for Opardu by Puredistance:
Main notes in Opardu as announced in time of writing are: carnation, tuberose absolute, jasmine absolute and gardenia with a background evoking the gentleness of romance through soft powdery notes. (All notes will be officially revealed in the first week of November, when I will update).
OPARDU will be available in a 17.5 ml. Perfume Spray and a 60 ml. Perfume Flacon as pure Perfume Extrait (32%) only, in November 2012. Available at select carriers.
A sample of the as yet unreleased Opardu parfum will be given to a lucky reader who comments on this post.Draw is open internationally till Sunday midnight. Draw is now closed, thank you!
Music: Φεύγω (i.e.I'm leaving...all those years I'm leaving) by Greek songwriter Orpheas Pieridis, adapted here & sung by Dionyssis Savvopoulos.
In the interests of full disclosure I was sent a sample for consideration.
![]() |
| via http://osullivan60.blogspot.com |
The inspiration
The word 'OPARDU' is a creation of the owner and creative director of Puredistance: Jan Ewoud Vos. "When he came up with the word OPARDU he felt that this word had always been there, in a mysterious way... evocative and strangely familiar" the official story goes. I can't say it means anything specific to me, yet it does evoke leopards, bringing to mind Visconti's glorious and utterly romantic Il Gattopardo in mind.
"It took more than a year to further work out OPARDU. Central to the 'feeling' of OPARDU have been the expressive paintings of Kees van Dongen, in particular one of his illustrations for the book 'PARFUMS' by Paul Valéry, published in 1945 in a limited edition of 1000. (Jan Ewoud Vos is the owner of book no. 429)." [according to this info]
The bouquet in the middle below is an illustration of Kees van Dongen
The perfumer
When Jan Ewoud Vos showed this illustration of Kees Van Dongen - a rich and lush bouquet of flowers - to Annie Buzantian, the famous Master Perfumer from New York, she instantly fell in love with it. The first word that came to her mind was 'Opulence'. She also felt this nostalgic feeling for the early years of the previous century; the golden age of perfumery. And then her work began. As a starting point Annie used a reinterpretation of a classic carnation she had already created which was safely stored in one of her 'secret' drawers.
How it Smells
To my nose the dominating sensation is not of a classic carnation (those tended to be clove-spicy affairs, like in Caron's Poivre & Coup de Fouet), but rather of lilacs; pollen-dusted and with nectarous facets that mingle with a smidgen of green, transparent gardenia impression and a hint of powder and cedarwood. These lilacs are divested of their more melancholy, rained-upon ambience that En Passant by perfumer Olivia Giacobetti for Frederic Malle's perfume line has turned into a cult. That was a passing impression of walking under an umbrella in the early spring just catching a whiff of white lilacs in the distance from some stone and cement-walled garden afar. Here, in Opardu, the purple lilac is trembling under the morning sun and the white flower notes (not especially indolic, but not sanitized either) provide a tinge of honeyed sweetness. The wink of a bit of spice could be said to evoke a carnation interpretation, though I'm mostly struck by the inclusion of the non mentioned powdery soft and woody-earthy garland of ionones (rendering a violet note) and what I could liken to a hawthorn/mimosa note with a little muskiness. If you have always admired Vacances by Patou (1936) but have been frustrated by its rarity (now that even the 1980s reissue is discontinued for so long), Opardu can provide a good substitute.
This delicate bouquet in Opardu makes for a very feminine and subtle composition that is graceful rather than opulent and restrained in very good taste. I would have loved it to be a bit more maxed out for the opulent effect and for greater tenacity, but that's just me.
Notes for Opardu by Puredistance:
Main notes in Opardu as announced in time of writing are: carnation, tuberose absolute, jasmine absolute and gardenia with a background evoking the gentleness of romance through soft powdery notes. (All notes will be officially revealed in the first week of November, when I will update).
OPARDU will be available in a 17.5 ml. Perfume Spray and a 60 ml. Perfume Flacon as pure Perfume Extrait (32%) only, in November 2012. Available at select carriers.
A sample of the as yet unreleased Opardu parfum will be given to a lucky reader who comments on this post.
Music: Φεύγω (i.e.I'm leaving...all those years I'm leaving) by Greek songwriter Orpheas Pieridis, adapted here & sung by Dionyssis Savvopoulos.
In the interests of full disclosure I was sent a sample for consideration.
Monday, April 14, 2014
Tauer Perfumes Eau d'Epices: fragrance review
Eau d'Épices is an interesting study in how to make a non-typical "oriental" or "woody" spice which would float rather than sink. Does it succeed? You'll be the judge as this month sees the reissue of Eau d'Épices. Eau d'Épices has been in the works since at least 2007, you see, when the first samples were given to a coterie of Tauer fans. The official launch happened in 2010 and then the scent was discontinued, to be reissued now.
Those who remember the soap Mandarins Ambrés that Tauer issued during the countdown to Christmas will recall the chord of labdanum-laced tartness that remained on the skin for a long time. The cleverness lies in that this classically oriental chord is buttressed in the fragrance Eau d'Épices by an allusion to soap which brings us full circle to the creative process chez Tauer: the core of this "spice water" is made of orange blossom absolute which via its cleaner facets and the indirect use of orange blossom (as well as its greener, fresher analogue, neroli) in time-honored Eaux de Cologne brings to mind the sense of freshness and purity via association.
Tauer loves his orange blossom (and if you're following his line you know that) and this is a natural essence he obtains alongside the Egyptian jasmine material he uses. Some tart notes emerge in the evaporation, a feeling of bitter-fresh grapefruit (not listed) or something like lemony verbena or lemongrass (also non listed), but the overall feeling of this core is buttery to me and this increases as the fragrance prolongs its visit.
But that is not all. There are two other dominant forces in Eau d'Épices.
One is the evident one: the "indian basket of spices" as Andy puts it —which would make phobics of impolite bodily smells scour the list for cumin, the essence which is routinely blamed for a sweat and body odor note; let me here take the opportunity to clear this fear, this perfume won't produce questions about your state of cleanliness. It is a full on spice-fest at the start (lots of IFRA-defiant cinnamon, orange blossom complementing coriander, clove and clove), but that evolves very soon and I can see how the expectation of a typical spicy oriental would let fans of the genre conditioned to expect Caron's Poivre or Coco by Chanel somewhat down. Eau d'Épices, aka "Spice Water," doesn't distance itself from the tradition of "cologne," something meant to be splashed to impart a sense of exhilaration but done in a new way, a way of spices instead of herbs.
The other undercurrent (and it is a very prominent one) is the incense-y chord that Tauer loves so much. It's an interlay of resinous-smelling/amber notes of which ambreine and ambroxan are constants. Maybe it's the hippyish vibe, maybe it's the traveling bug, these notes bring on a sense of far away lands, away from our modernized antiseptic environments.
Eau d'Épices: back on the Tauer website. As love it or hate it as spices themselves.
![]() |
| via pinterest |
Those who remember the soap Mandarins Ambrés that Tauer issued during the countdown to Christmas will recall the chord of labdanum-laced tartness that remained on the skin for a long time. The cleverness lies in that this classically oriental chord is buttressed in the fragrance Eau d'Épices by an allusion to soap which brings us full circle to the creative process chez Tauer: the core of this "spice water" is made of orange blossom absolute which via its cleaner facets and the indirect use of orange blossom (as well as its greener, fresher analogue, neroli) in time-honored Eaux de Cologne brings to mind the sense of freshness and purity via association.
Tauer loves his orange blossom (and if you're following his line you know that) and this is a natural essence he obtains alongside the Egyptian jasmine material he uses. Some tart notes emerge in the evaporation, a feeling of bitter-fresh grapefruit (not listed) or something like lemony verbena or lemongrass (also non listed), but the overall feeling of this core is buttery to me and this increases as the fragrance prolongs its visit.
But that is not all. There are two other dominant forces in Eau d'Épices.
One is the evident one: the "indian basket of spices" as Andy puts it —which would make phobics of impolite bodily smells scour the list for cumin, the essence which is routinely blamed for a sweat and body odor note; let me here take the opportunity to clear this fear, this perfume won't produce questions about your state of cleanliness. It is a full on spice-fest at the start (lots of IFRA-defiant cinnamon, orange blossom complementing coriander, clove and clove), but that evolves very soon and I can see how the expectation of a typical spicy oriental would let fans of the genre conditioned to expect Caron's Poivre or Coco by Chanel somewhat down. Eau d'Épices, aka "Spice Water," doesn't distance itself from the tradition of "cologne," something meant to be splashed to impart a sense of exhilaration but done in a new way, a way of spices instead of herbs.
The other undercurrent (and it is a very prominent one) is the incense-y chord that Tauer loves so much. It's an interlay of resinous-smelling/amber notes of which ambreine and ambroxan are constants. Maybe it's the hippyish vibe, maybe it's the traveling bug, these notes bring on a sense of far away lands, away from our modernized antiseptic environments.
Eau d'Épices: back on the Tauer website. As love it or hate it as spices themselves.
Friday, January 27, 2012
Winter 2011-12 Top Fragrances & Other Stuff
Who, at the first sign of frost, doesn't long to be wrapped in an oversized cashmere throw, sit by the fire, grab a good book, and sip something spiked and fragrant while the snowflakes outside are dancing the polka? January's chilly winds and all too brief days call for heavier knits, formal furs to banish the cold and an inferno of fragrance to get through it all; and cold it has been, unusually so this year for this corner of Europe!
Seeking warmth in your perfume can be a subtle reassurance in cold weather, but it can also be fun to try to match, getting the fragrance notes to smell painstakingly pure as if emerging out of a snow bath Venus-like off the waves. There is indeed a two-pronged approach to choosing personal fragrance for winter wearing:
One is to go for traditional oriental elements, warm resins and balsams, rich florals and amber blends; creating contrast and invoking via perfume-magic mellower lands where the night is always warm and bodies radiate the heat of blood rushing to the skin's surface. Another, more unusual one, is akin to homeopathy: inject a bit of cool silkiness to the routine, letting the outside cold enhance the silvery, metallic qualities of the perfume. Therefore throw in a mix of irises, artemisia, wormwood, angelica and gentian essences, cool celebral notes, and sour frankincense smoke that trails behind like the ashes off an extinguished censer...
It's also just the time for precious vintages (do a search on PerfumeShrine for plenty of ideas on those) and for parfums fourrure, since putting these perfumes on is as enveloping as donning my fur jacket and you wouldn't don a fur jacket in August, would you?
Here are some of the fragrances and other stuff in my rotation this winter to stir the senses and banish (or embrace, if you like!) the cold.
Guerlain Tonka Impériale
Wearing it on winter sweaters and scarfs (where it clings for days, radiating seductively) is akin to getting caressed by a honey mink étole, smelling fine cigars in a salon de thé serving the most delicious almond pralines on panacotta.
Caron Poivre
As warm as a fur coat, as arresting as pepper spray, a pas de deux on clove and carnation blossoms; or the scent of Cruella de Vil. I bring out the sable and pretend I'm wicked!
Armani Prive Bois d'Encens
A clean smoky incense that wafts from the forests on the cool wintery air, gloomy cedars silently silhouetted in the distance.
Editions des Parfums F.Malle Angéliques sous la Pluie
Rained upon angelicas, a celestial gin & tonic on the rocks, refreshingly bitter with the cool edge of seeing snowcapped stone fences just across the road.
La Myrrhe by Serge Lutens
Myrrh gum is part of ecclesiastical incense alongside frankincense for millenia. You would expect an oriental, full of resinous mystery, going by the name, right? Lutens goes one better and infuses the bitter ambience of myrrh with candied mandarin rind and citrusy aldehydes which bring this on the upper plane of an airy aldehydic. Somehow it wears lightly but solemnly too and it resembles nothing else on the market. Cool days bring La Myrrhe's attibutes to the fore and it remains amongst my most precious possessions.
And of course, Bottega Veneta Eau de Parfum
If you yearn for the sweetly pungent and at the same time totally "fabricated" smell of a good, old-school leather fragrance...then the fragrance release introduced by the Bottega Veneta brand (the apex of leather luxury) is set to stir your heart with unbridled longing. And deservedly so: Bottega Veneta Eau de Parfum is unquestionably "mighty fine"; it made it both to my Top 2011 Best Fragrances list and my Autumn Sensuous Discoveries list. Now it's on my Top Winter things list too. Figures...
I'm also crazy about discovering Nostalgie by Sonoma Scent Studio. There's a sheen sans pareil about wearing a graceful floral aldehydic smack in the middle of winter, everything just seems to sparkle brighter under the tentative sun! In that vein, expect a review of the graceful L'Ame Soeur by Divine and an update on its slightly re-orchestrated reissue shortly on these pages!
Winter is also the time to indulge in some body pampering. Heavy oils and unctuous creams suddenly seem welcome, decadent, like a deserved small luxury.This winter I have seriously lost myself into the scentscape of vanilla pods, almonds & toasted cereals of Cacharel's Gloria Bath & Body Oil. I also regularly turn to L'Occitane Creme Ultra Riche, crammed full with shea butter, for all topical dry skin emergencies.
Food-wise, winter weekends is the time to make time-consuming, elaborate dishes like Armenian "manti", called Tatar Böregi in Turkey (recipe to follow on subsequent post), full of the warming aroma of all spice, cinnamon, cumin and clove. I also love to prepare home-made halwa with semolina, raisins and roasted pine nuts. Yum!
Intellectually I have been stimulated through work mainly this season. But off-work hasn't been totally idle.
I took an interest to John A. Hall’s “Ernest Gellner: An Intellectual Biography", recounting the exiling of intellectuals of Eastern Europe because of communism and Nazism. The relaxed pace of an evening by the fire also perfectly fits reading poems by Emily Dickinson and Kostas Karyotakis thanks to their slow pace and melancholy. I also caught The Girl with the Dragon Tatoo in cinemas this winter: It's atmospheric and suprisingly loyal to the original Swedish version, so if you need a rec, go watch it!
Please visit the other fine participating blogs in this project for more ideas:
All I am a Redhead, I smell therefore I am, Katie Puckrik Smells, The Non Blonde, Under the Cupola, Waft...what a fragrance fanatic thinks.
The clip comes from the 2004 film "Weeping Meadow" (Το λιβάδι που δακρύζει) by Greek film director Theo Aggelopoulos, who died last Tuesday. Music by Eleni Karaindrou.
original photo on top Winter Leaves by Eric Begin/Flickr, some rights reserved
Seeking warmth in your perfume can be a subtle reassurance in cold weather, but it can also be fun to try to match, getting the fragrance notes to smell painstakingly pure as if emerging out of a snow bath Venus-like off the waves. There is indeed a two-pronged approach to choosing personal fragrance for winter wearing:
One is to go for traditional oriental elements, warm resins and balsams, rich florals and amber blends; creating contrast and invoking via perfume-magic mellower lands where the night is always warm and bodies radiate the heat of blood rushing to the skin's surface. Another, more unusual one, is akin to homeopathy: inject a bit of cool silkiness to the routine, letting the outside cold enhance the silvery, metallic qualities of the perfume. Therefore throw in a mix of irises, artemisia, wormwood, angelica and gentian essences, cool celebral notes, and sour frankincense smoke that trails behind like the ashes off an extinguished censer...
It's also just the time for precious vintages (do a search on PerfumeShrine for plenty of ideas on those) and for parfums fourrure, since putting these perfumes on is as enveloping as donning my fur jacket and you wouldn't don a fur jacket in August, would you?
![]() |
| Monica Belluci and Alain Delon forAnnabella |
Guerlain Tonka Impériale
Wearing it on winter sweaters and scarfs (where it clings for days, radiating seductively) is akin to getting caressed by a honey mink étole, smelling fine cigars in a salon de thé serving the most delicious almond pralines on panacotta.
Caron Poivre
As warm as a fur coat, as arresting as pepper spray, a pas de deux on clove and carnation blossoms; or the scent of Cruella de Vil. I bring out the sable and pretend I'm wicked!
Armani Prive Bois d'Encens
A clean smoky incense that wafts from the forests on the cool wintery air, gloomy cedars silently silhouetted in the distance.
Editions des Parfums F.Malle Angéliques sous la Pluie
Rained upon angelicas, a celestial gin & tonic on the rocks, refreshingly bitter with the cool edge of seeing snowcapped stone fences just across the road.
La Myrrhe by Serge Lutens
Myrrh gum is part of ecclesiastical incense alongside frankincense for millenia. You would expect an oriental, full of resinous mystery, going by the name, right? Lutens goes one better and infuses the bitter ambience of myrrh with candied mandarin rind and citrusy aldehydes which bring this on the upper plane of an airy aldehydic. Somehow it wears lightly but solemnly too and it resembles nothing else on the market. Cool days bring La Myrrhe's attibutes to the fore and it remains amongst my most precious possessions.
And of course, Bottega Veneta Eau de Parfum
If you yearn for the sweetly pungent and at the same time totally "fabricated" smell of a good, old-school leather fragrance...then the fragrance release introduced by the Bottega Veneta brand (the apex of leather luxury) is set to stir your heart with unbridled longing. And deservedly so: Bottega Veneta Eau de Parfum is unquestionably "mighty fine"; it made it both to my Top 2011 Best Fragrances list and my Autumn Sensuous Discoveries list. Now it's on my Top Winter things list too. Figures...
I'm also crazy about discovering Nostalgie by Sonoma Scent Studio. There's a sheen sans pareil about wearing a graceful floral aldehydic smack in the middle of winter, everything just seems to sparkle brighter under the tentative sun! In that vein, expect a review of the graceful L'Ame Soeur by Divine and an update on its slightly re-orchestrated reissue shortly on these pages!
![]() |
| my personal shot of Guerlain Tonka Imperiale |
Food-wise, winter weekends is the time to make time-consuming, elaborate dishes like Armenian "manti", called Tatar Böregi in Turkey (recipe to follow on subsequent post), full of the warming aroma of all spice, cinnamon, cumin and clove. I also love to prepare home-made halwa with semolina, raisins and roasted pine nuts. Yum!
![]() |
| pic via mantrakina.blogspot.com |
Intellectually I have been stimulated through work mainly this season. But off-work hasn't been totally idle.
I took an interest to John A. Hall’s “Ernest Gellner: An Intellectual Biography", recounting the exiling of intellectuals of Eastern Europe because of communism and Nazism. The relaxed pace of an evening by the fire also perfectly fits reading poems by Emily Dickinson and Kostas Karyotakis thanks to their slow pace and melancholy. I also caught The Girl with the Dragon Tatoo in cinemas this winter: It's atmospheric and suprisingly loyal to the original Swedish version, so if you need a rec, go watch it!
Please visit the other fine participating blogs in this project for more ideas:
All I am a Redhead, I smell therefore I am, Katie Puckrik Smells, The Non Blonde, Under the Cupola, Waft...what a fragrance fanatic thinks.
Related reading on Perfume Shrine:
The clip comes from the 2004 film "Weeping Meadow" (Το λιβάδι που δακρύζει) by Greek film director Theo Aggelopoulos, who died last Tuesday. Music by Eleni Karaindrou.
original photo on top Winter Leaves by Eric Begin/Flickr, some rights reserved
Friday, December 14, 2012
Hug Me, Cashmere Wrap Fragrances for Wintertime
When the wind is howling outside, shaking the trees into a sweeping sound, and the logs in the fire crackle with gusto, perfume can play both a prophylactic role (reminiscent of its original purpose) and one of mental escapism. Winter-time brings on its own special slot for playing with fragrance, simply because we spend so much more time in close quarters noticing smells of the indoors (and on each other) and because the outdoors feels so quiet and silvery under the caps of snow reflecting the rays of a tentative sun.
Below is a capsule selection of tried and true warm, snuggly and devastatingly sexy fragrances to carry you into wintertime to make you feel like you're wrapped into your own portable hug.
GUERLAIN Tonka Impériale: Wearing it on winter sweaters and scarfs (where it clings for days radiating seductively) is akin to getting caressed by a honey mink étole while smelling fine cigars in a salon de thé serving the most delicious almond pralines on panacotta.
CHANEL Bois des Iles: The most caressing sandalwood-rich floral feels like a cashmere wrap woven by angels. Beautifully supple, rich but restrained, it's a fragrance whose every drop denotes indoors entertaining in elegant interiors.
BOTTEGA VENETA Eau de Parfum: Subtly leathery goodness with warmth and coziness, underneath a fruity chypre mantle with a beating jasmine heart. What's not to like?
CARON Poivre: As warm as a fur coat, as arresting as pepper spray, a pas de deux on clove and carnation blossoms; or the scent of Cruella de Vil.
SERGE LUTENS Douce Amère: A bittersweet harmony of anise etched in opaline, singing in a warm contralto, melancholic and vanillic, borrowing something of the introspective mood of winter.
HERMES 24 Faubourg: A rich floriental resembling a Hollywood heroine dressed in a light beige trenchcoat, impecably coiffed hair under a heavy silk scarf of prestigious sign aure, wrapped on her precious little head, lipstick in deep coral, complexion in peaches and cream, driving a sports car on the dangerous slopes of Monaco under a heavy steel sky.
Which are your own "cashmere sweater" fragrances? I'd love to hear suggestions.
Below is a capsule selection of tried and true warm, snuggly and devastatingly sexy fragrances to carry you into wintertime to make you feel like you're wrapped into your own portable hug.
![]() |
| punmiris.com |
GUERLAIN Tonka Impériale: Wearing it on winter sweaters and scarfs (where it clings for days radiating seductively) is akin to getting caressed by a honey mink étole while smelling fine cigars in a salon de thé serving the most delicious almond pralines on panacotta.
CHANEL Bois des Iles: The most caressing sandalwood-rich floral feels like a cashmere wrap woven by angels. Beautifully supple, rich but restrained, it's a fragrance whose every drop denotes indoors entertaining in elegant interiors.
BOTTEGA VENETA Eau de Parfum: Subtly leathery goodness with warmth and coziness, underneath a fruity chypre mantle with a beating jasmine heart. What's not to like?
CARON Poivre: As warm as a fur coat, as arresting as pepper spray, a pas de deux on clove and carnation blossoms; or the scent of Cruella de Vil.
SERGE LUTENS Douce Amère: A bittersweet harmony of anise etched in opaline, singing in a warm contralto, melancholic and vanillic, borrowing something of the introspective mood of winter.
HERMES 24 Faubourg: A rich floriental resembling a Hollywood heroine dressed in a light beige trenchcoat, impecably coiffed hair under a heavy silk scarf of prestigious sign aure, wrapped on her precious little head, lipstick in deep coral, complexion in peaches and cream, driving a sports car on the dangerous slopes of Monaco under a heavy steel sky.
Which are your own "cashmere sweater" fragrances? I'd love to hear suggestions.
Friday, March 11, 2011
Byblos by Byblos: fragrance review
A proud in its weirdness creation by nose Ilias Ermenides from 1990, this fragrance is now discontinued. Why bother trace it, you might ask: I like to talk about bygones; I’m really old beyond my biological years it seems, that embellishing, idealistic reminiscence being characteristic of older people, as stated very early indeed in the work of Aristotle’s “Nicomachean Ethics”.

And yet in the world of perfume everyone does it, I’ve noticed. Nary does one read a perfume forum where people don’t say with contempt “today’s perfumes are nothing like they used to be”. That would be a logical conclusion though, wouldn’t it? How is something so elusive by nature, so fleeting, so ephemeral, so closely tied to the zeitgeist as perfume not capable of following the times? And yet, the nostalgia about perfumes we have not even smelled overwhelms us and sometimes we let ourselves believe the golden age of Saturn has bypassed us and the future is all gloom.
Byblos is named after such a Saturnian concept of bygones, the ancient city of Phoenicia which was the centre for the trade of Lebanese cedar wood to Egypt back in 3200BC. Cedar was used in perfumery even back then, although it had other practical uses as well, such as mummification. The Phoenicians were famously the inventors of the alphabet, which was later taken by the Greeks and with the addition of vowels turned into the first real alphabet in the history of the world. Pity Phoenicians only used it for commercial purposes and not literature or science. They were the Marketing majors of the ancient world it seems, not the Bachelor of Art ones.
The fragrance of Byblos by Byblos however distances itself from both the name (which is after all merely the Italian clothing company’s brand name) and the cedarwood smell. On the contrary it gives the impression of peppery/spicy fruits! The opening of peach and cassis (a synthetic berry note) is tangy with the bittersweet grapefruit and mandarin rind smell. It goes on into a dense, rich mimosa and marigold scent that floats above the raspberry, musky base. It’s as if it invites you to bite, only to find the hotness has singed your tongue. But don’t be afraid: this is no Caron Poivre; it’s rather tame for that but still interesting. The cobalt blue bottle shaped like an ancient pyxis, a ceramoplastic type of clay vessel that was used for storing unguents or jewels, is topped with a most original stopper of a golden “plate” with an open flower in light peach pink on top.
To be sampled, at least once.
Notes for Byblos by Byblos:
Top: bergamot, mandarin, black currant, grapefruit, pepper, peach
Heart: mimosa, lily-of-the-valley, lily, honeysuckle, violet and iris.
Base: red fruits, vetiver, musk, raspberry, heliotrope.
Available as Eau de Parfum online on stockists.

And yet in the world of perfume everyone does it, I’ve noticed. Nary does one read a perfume forum where people don’t say with contempt “today’s perfumes are nothing like they used to be”. That would be a logical conclusion though, wouldn’t it? How is something so elusive by nature, so fleeting, so ephemeral, so closely tied to the zeitgeist as perfume not capable of following the times? And yet, the nostalgia about perfumes we have not even smelled overwhelms us and sometimes we let ourselves believe the golden age of Saturn has bypassed us and the future is all gloom.
Byblos is named after such a Saturnian concept of bygones, the ancient city of Phoenicia which was the centre for the trade of Lebanese cedar wood to Egypt back in 3200BC. Cedar was used in perfumery even back then, although it had other practical uses as well, such as mummification. The Phoenicians were famously the inventors of the alphabet, which was later taken by the Greeks and with the addition of vowels turned into the first real alphabet in the history of the world. Pity Phoenicians only used it for commercial purposes and not literature or science. They were the Marketing majors of the ancient world it seems, not the Bachelor of Art ones.
The fragrance of Byblos by Byblos however distances itself from both the name (which is after all merely the Italian clothing company’s brand name) and the cedarwood smell. On the contrary it gives the impression of peppery/spicy fruits! The opening of peach and cassis (a synthetic berry note) is tangy with the bittersweet grapefruit and mandarin rind smell. It goes on into a dense, rich mimosa and marigold scent that floats above the raspberry, musky base. It’s as if it invites you to bite, only to find the hotness has singed your tongue. But don’t be afraid: this is no Caron Poivre; it’s rather tame for that but still interesting. The cobalt blue bottle shaped like an ancient pyxis, a ceramoplastic type of clay vessel that was used for storing unguents or jewels, is topped with a most original stopper of a golden “plate” with an open flower in light peach pink on top.
To be sampled, at least once.
Notes for Byblos by Byblos:
Top: bergamot, mandarin, black currant, grapefruit, pepper, peach
Heart: mimosa, lily-of-the-valley, lily, honeysuckle, violet and iris.
Base: red fruits, vetiver, musk, raspberry, heliotrope.
Available as Eau de Parfum online on stockists.
Labels:
byblos,
discontinued,
fruity,
ilias ermenides,
review
Wednesday, July 14, 2010
Krizia Teatro alla Scala: fragrance review
Revisiting a spicy oriental amidst the heat and turpor of the big metropolis when it's 38C outside is not exactly conductive to proper thinking. All that density might go to one's head and have bystanders get murderous thoughts! And yet, Teatro alla Scala, a forgotten masterpiece by Krizia, doesn't produce any of those effects. All right, it's not citrusy, it's not a clean musk, it's not even a tropical floral. It's an effing spicy oriental! But you know what, sometimes that's what the doctor ordered. The spice is so jolting that it manages to create the impression of cleaness, if you can believe it!
A similar effect was first explored in Caron's Poivre and Yves Saint Laurent's now changed Opium. Some spices in collaboration with aldehydes create a hot-cold effect (non mentholated, it's a different vibe), reminiscent of the feel you get after the passage of a hot iron over clean cotton or linen. The scent also brings to mind the vibrancy of Coco by Chanel (the original oriental from the mid-1980s, specifically the vintage Eau de Parfum) minus the leathery facets. It stands to reason, Teatro came out in 1986, two years after Coco. Another kinship could be argued to be with the original Fendi, but I personally always found that one to be denser and more masculine and definitely only suitable for the coldest nights of winter. I don't know who the perfumer is and couldn't find it in my guides, but it feels like a Jacques Polge extension of his Coco mods. The Krizia outfit is rather underappreciated in perfume circles, although they produce fabulous things (even sparkling and dry wines!), another fragrance worth noting the cool, mossy and all around lovely K by Krizia, more of which on a later day.
Suffice to say Teatro alla Scala is discontinued (Murphy's Law, all the good ones eventually seem to head that way; or else they're mutilated through multiple Joan-Rivers-worth facelifts...). I sourced mine through a swap. The ratio of phenylpropanoid eugenol (a gigantic clove-peppery note) is just the sort of thing that would have the current IFRA-police erupt in hives and have it ostracized to outer space. Then again fate and time saw to that before they did. In a way, I'm thankful: It means each Art Deco style bottle surfacing would be the good stuff; it saves us the trouble of going through endless deliberations on bottle styles changes, packaging design and searching all surfaces of bottle and box for tiny printed or etched codes denoting different batches. Even at the heights of its popularity it wasn't distributed in France, which makes me think there are some great things in perfumery that even the French fail to appreciate. Even if it evokes the paradisal nights spent at the famous Milanese theater. Does anyone still wear it and appreciate this scent? I'd be interested to find out.
The opening of Teatro alla Scala cuts through a wall of bricks with its symphonic spicy note of clove and pepper while the flowers emerge slowly, with assuredness and without any distraction from the majestic track troden. Many orientals cede into plush amber notes that engulf you in tentacles of sweetness and powderiness, which comforting though it might be on ocassion, sometimes reminds of big bosom-heavy aunts hugging too enthusiastically which unfortunately can put the "sexy" out of the window once the thought crosses your mind. This one is certainly not gaunty, the way some cerebral chypres or medicinal orientals can be ~more brains than heart~ but instead has a fine, sculpted feminine figure, the incense and moss at the base restraining the honeyed, sweeter notes, the naughty, "dirty" civet bringing out the carnation at the heart underscored by a soupçon of cool rose. Yet it never vulgarises itself through too much cleavage or low tricks, it's always classy. Almost begs for an encore after the performance.
Its perfect, sultry proportions slink through simple, bold evening dresses for a big night out. Yes, even if it's a hot night, as long as you know how to use only one spray over your navel...
Notes for Krizia Teatro alla Scala:
Top: aldehydes, coriander, fruity notes and bergamot
Heart: carnation, tuberose, orris root, jasmine, beeswax, ylang-ylang, rose and geranium.
Base: patchouli, musk, benzoin, civet, oakmoss, vetiver and incense.
Photograph of Anna Magnani via iiclegrado.esteri.it
A similar effect was first explored in Caron's Poivre and Yves Saint Laurent's now changed Opium. Some spices in collaboration with aldehydes create a hot-cold effect (non mentholated, it's a different vibe), reminiscent of the feel you get after the passage of a hot iron over clean cotton or linen. The scent also brings to mind the vibrancy of Coco by Chanel (the original oriental from the mid-1980s, specifically the vintage Eau de Parfum) minus the leathery facets. It stands to reason, Teatro came out in 1986, two years after Coco. Another kinship could be argued to be with the original Fendi, but I personally always found that one to be denser and more masculine and definitely only suitable for the coldest nights of winter. I don't know who the perfumer is and couldn't find it in my guides, but it feels like a Jacques Polge extension of his Coco mods. The Krizia outfit is rather underappreciated in perfume circles, although they produce fabulous things (even sparkling and dry wines!), another fragrance worth noting the cool, mossy and all around lovely K by Krizia, more of which on a later day.Suffice to say Teatro alla Scala is discontinued (Murphy's Law, all the good ones eventually seem to head that way; or else they're mutilated through multiple Joan-Rivers-worth facelifts...). I sourced mine through a swap. The ratio of phenylpropanoid eugenol (a gigantic clove-peppery note) is just the sort of thing that would have the current IFRA-police erupt in hives and have it ostracized to outer space. Then again fate and time saw to that before they did. In a way, I'm thankful: It means each Art Deco style bottle surfacing would be the good stuff; it saves us the trouble of going through endless deliberations on bottle styles changes, packaging design and searching all surfaces of bottle and box for tiny printed or etched codes denoting different batches. Even at the heights of its popularity it wasn't distributed in France, which makes me think there are some great things in perfumery that even the French fail to appreciate. Even if it evokes the paradisal nights spent at the famous Milanese theater. Does anyone still wear it and appreciate this scent? I'd be interested to find out.
The opening of Teatro alla Scala cuts through a wall of bricks with its symphonic spicy note of clove and pepper while the flowers emerge slowly, with assuredness and without any distraction from the majestic track troden. Many orientals cede into plush amber notes that engulf you in tentacles of sweetness and powderiness, which comforting though it might be on ocassion, sometimes reminds of big bosom-heavy aunts hugging too enthusiastically which unfortunately can put the "sexy" out of the window once the thought crosses your mind. This one is certainly not gaunty, the way some cerebral chypres or medicinal orientals can be ~more brains than heart~ but instead has a fine, sculpted feminine figure, the incense and moss at the base restraining the honeyed, sweeter notes, the naughty, "dirty" civet bringing out the carnation at the heart underscored by a soupçon of cool rose. Yet it never vulgarises itself through too much cleavage or low tricks, it's always classy. Almost begs for an encore after the performance.
Its perfect, sultry proportions slink through simple, bold evening dresses for a big night out. Yes, even if it's a hot night, as long as you know how to use only one spray over your navel...
Notes for Krizia Teatro alla Scala:
Top: aldehydes, coriander, fruity notes and bergamot
Heart: carnation, tuberose, orris root, jasmine, beeswax, ylang-ylang, rose and geranium.
Base: patchouli, musk, benzoin, civet, oakmoss, vetiver and incense.
Photograph of Anna Magnani via iiclegrado.esteri.it
Labels:
clove,
incense,
krizia,
moss,
pepper,
review,
spicy oriental,
teatro alla scala
Tuesday, June 11, 2013
Father's Day Special: Top Fragrances for Dads
We tend to view mothers as the primary caregivers in the family (and they usually are), but the role of the father is perhaps even more pivotal taking things into the long shot: for little boys he's their superhero, their early model and their mischievous truant collaborator (and what greatest sharing is there but partaking in guilt?); for little girls he's their harbor, their prototype, the man who teaches them how to love men for the rest of their lives, their perennial confidence boost. A loving father goes a long way and simple things, like the memory of their aura, their warmth, their grooming routine in front of the mirror, is the fascination of many a wide-eyed child for a reason.
My own beloved father used to wear the original, leathery Trussardi Uomo fragrance in that black-croc dressed bottle that looked like a million bucks and smelled as solid as a Roman temple pillar. You could lean on this elegant man's graceful frame, physical and mental both, and his scent only served to ascertain that. His prolonged flirt with Xeryus (Givenchy) or Habit Rouge (Guerlain) and his love of citruses only revealed other facets of his artistic personality. Dad's fragrances, more than my mother's which were constant love affairs, became snapshots of certain periods in his life and they continue to fascinate me with their mercurial nature and the way he plays with them.
Fragrances easily available in department stores:
Caron Pour Un Homme: The trusty tryst of vanilla and lavender produced this classic of classics many moons ago (but still very relevant). Cuddly and freshly scrubbed at the same time, it was Serge Gainsbourg's favorite, a controversial dad if there ever was one.
Dior Homme: A fragrance that defies the odds and sets its own rules with a note of iris that feels like the coolness of body talc. For modern dads who appreciate subtlety, elegance, a hint of sweetness.
Aramis Aramis 900: The masculine equivalent of the ultra-mossy, forest-fresh Aromatics Elixir (Clinique) for women, it is nothing short but distinctive, powerful, enveloping, captivating.
Hermes Equipage: A more conservative choice for dyed in the wool classicists who know best. The pairing of the spicy carnation amidst warm citrus and deep, earthy notes makes for a fragrance to be noticed.
Hermes Terre d'Hermes: The best-selling cologne for men since its creation some years ago, it's up there for a reason. A flinty-earthy impression under the exhilarating scent of bergamot citrus, it's super fresh and at the same time super lasting.
Yves Saint Laurent Rive Gauche pour Homme: The classic grooming scent of the barbershop, all soap and cologne and inedible scents, becomes an interpretation for a contemporary man with an eye to detail.
Viktor & Rolf Spicebomb: A liquid confectionary, a sweet tobacco & rum fantasy fragrance for dads with a sweet tooth. Among the better masculine releases in the last few seasons.
A little harder to track, but very worthwhile:
Aqua di Parma Blue Mediterraneo Myrto di Panarea: A new take on luminosity, removed from the usual fern-like fragrance "notes" or of sea-evoking fragrances, it takes the unusual scent of the myrtle tree, poised between oleaginous and spicy fresh, to hint at a Mediterranean escapade. For easy-going, casual style dads.
Les Parfums de Rosine Rose d'Homme: When rose gets bastardized via deep, leafy notes of pungent patchouli the result is a surprising elegance that is all its own. A little daring.
Hermessence Poivre Samarkande (Hermes boutique & online exclusive): Freshness in the form of a peppery scent? Yes, indeed. The spiciness is bracing but refreshing at the same time, like a lightning in the sky bringing eagerly anticipated rain.
Chanel Les Exclusifs Sycomore (Chanel boutique & online exclusive): If you like the smell of vetiver root (an eastern grass with a potently cooling, green like freshly turned earth aroma) Sycomore is among its most beautiful representations, with a hint of smoke and a touch of cocoa dust. Even if your dad isn't that handsome to begin with, he will seem incredibly so when wearing this.
Penhaligon's Castile: Sometimes you want him to smell clean, you know? Like you're again a child nuzzling at your freshly showered dad's neck. Castile is based on orange blossom and imparts a soapy, lathered feeling.
Tauer Perfumes L'Air du Desert Marocain: Dads with an adventurous, hippy disposition will appreciate this orientalized, resinous, mystical fragrance based on ancient rites of incense. Sumptuous, dry and unlike anything else.
Guerlain Mouchoir de Monsieur: If you like the idea of Caron pour un Homme (a sweetish, cuddly lavender), but want to go more unusual, opt for this one. It has a background ambience constructed by a note that used to come from an animal source (but is now ethically recreated in the lab), namely civet, which gives a lived-in sexiness underneath the proper gentleman atop. It used to be the favorite scent of King Carlos of Spain, if that says anything.
Editions de Parfums Frederic Malle Angeliques sous la Pluie: Cool, vibrant, melancholic sometimes, with a note of gin and tonic. A very refined choice for introspective dads who don't wear their hearts on their sleeves; he will say all he has to say through deeds.
Whatever you do this coming Father's Day, don't forget to honor the most important thing: his love for you and the love you have for him. And if you're further apart, it's never too late to forgive and forget and build those bridges anew.
Bonus (mental) points to anyone who recognizes the film stills in this post ;-)
My own beloved father used to wear the original, leathery Trussardi Uomo fragrance in that black-croc dressed bottle that looked like a million bucks and smelled as solid as a Roman temple pillar. You could lean on this elegant man's graceful frame, physical and mental both, and his scent only served to ascertain that. His prolonged flirt with Xeryus (Givenchy) or Habit Rouge (Guerlain) and his love of citruses only revealed other facets of his artistic personality. Dad's fragrances, more than my mother's which were constant love affairs, became snapshots of certain periods in his life and they continue to fascinate me with their mercurial nature and the way he plays with them.
Fragrances easily available in department stores:
Caron Pour Un Homme: The trusty tryst of vanilla and lavender produced this classic of classics many moons ago (but still very relevant). Cuddly and freshly scrubbed at the same time, it was Serge Gainsbourg's favorite, a controversial dad if there ever was one.
Dior Homme: A fragrance that defies the odds and sets its own rules with a note of iris that feels like the coolness of body talc. For modern dads who appreciate subtlety, elegance, a hint of sweetness.
Aramis Aramis 900: The masculine equivalent of the ultra-mossy, forest-fresh Aromatics Elixir (Clinique) for women, it is nothing short but distinctive, powerful, enveloping, captivating.
Hermes Equipage: A more conservative choice for dyed in the wool classicists who know best. The pairing of the spicy carnation amidst warm citrus and deep, earthy notes makes for a fragrance to be noticed.
Hermes Terre d'Hermes: The best-selling cologne for men since its creation some years ago, it's up there for a reason. A flinty-earthy impression under the exhilarating scent of bergamot citrus, it's super fresh and at the same time super lasting.
Yves Saint Laurent Rive Gauche pour Homme: The classic grooming scent of the barbershop, all soap and cologne and inedible scents, becomes an interpretation for a contemporary man with an eye to detail.
Viktor & Rolf Spicebomb: A liquid confectionary, a sweet tobacco & rum fantasy fragrance for dads with a sweet tooth. Among the better masculine releases in the last few seasons.
A little harder to track, but very worthwhile:
Aqua di Parma Blue Mediterraneo Myrto di Panarea: A new take on luminosity, removed from the usual fern-like fragrance "notes" or of sea-evoking fragrances, it takes the unusual scent of the myrtle tree, poised between oleaginous and spicy fresh, to hint at a Mediterranean escapade. For easy-going, casual style dads.
Les Parfums de Rosine Rose d'Homme: When rose gets bastardized via deep, leafy notes of pungent patchouli the result is a surprising elegance that is all its own. A little daring.
Hermessence Poivre Samarkande (Hermes boutique & online exclusive): Freshness in the form of a peppery scent? Yes, indeed. The spiciness is bracing but refreshing at the same time, like a lightning in the sky bringing eagerly anticipated rain.
Chanel Les Exclusifs Sycomore (Chanel boutique & online exclusive): If you like the smell of vetiver root (an eastern grass with a potently cooling, green like freshly turned earth aroma) Sycomore is among its most beautiful representations, with a hint of smoke and a touch of cocoa dust. Even if your dad isn't that handsome to begin with, he will seem incredibly so when wearing this.
Penhaligon's Castile: Sometimes you want him to smell clean, you know? Like you're again a child nuzzling at your freshly showered dad's neck. Castile is based on orange blossom and imparts a soapy, lathered feeling.
Tauer Perfumes L'Air du Desert Marocain: Dads with an adventurous, hippy disposition will appreciate this orientalized, resinous, mystical fragrance based on ancient rites of incense. Sumptuous, dry and unlike anything else.
Guerlain Mouchoir de Monsieur: If you like the idea of Caron pour un Homme (a sweetish, cuddly lavender), but want to go more unusual, opt for this one. It has a background ambience constructed by a note that used to come from an animal source (but is now ethically recreated in the lab), namely civet, which gives a lived-in sexiness underneath the proper gentleman atop. It used to be the favorite scent of King Carlos of Spain, if that says anything.
Editions de Parfums Frederic Malle Angeliques sous la Pluie: Cool, vibrant, melancholic sometimes, with a note of gin and tonic. A very refined choice for introspective dads who don't wear their hearts on their sleeves; he will say all he has to say through deeds.
Whatever you do this coming Father's Day, don't forget to honor the most important thing: his love for you and the love you have for him. And if you're further apart, it's never too late to forgive and forget and build those bridges anew.
Bonus (mental) points to anyone who recognizes the film stills in this post ;-)
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