Showing posts sorted by relevance for query lilac. Sort by date Show all posts
Showing posts sorted by relevance for query lilac. Sort by date Show all posts

Thursday, May 21, 2009

The Elusive Smells of Lilac and Osmanthus

Some smells in nature are elusive in their misty, delicate nuance, in their complexity which defies classification. Two among them are the scent of lilacs and osmanthus blossoms. The former is at once lush and fresh, intimately fleshy and pollen-dusted sweet in its corolla, the spin of April lanceloate yarns of purple and white, goosebumbing their small blooms in the cool breeze. The latter is an intricate dentelle of fruity-leathery smells evoking plums, apricots and prunes hidden in a suede pouch upon a warrior-poet’s belt in the stunningly beautiful landscape shots of the film "Hero".

The hunt for the perfect lilac (syringa) has taken me into semi-treacherous paths of testing dubious essences concocted in amateur workshops, as well as laying out good money in the pursuit of the unsatisfying (ie.the let-down that was En Passant for me personally, because of its watery-yeasty direction) or the perfectly congenial (Tocadilly by Rochas and Ineke After my Own Heart). Now that the season of lilacs has here reached its end, it is with the somewhat premature nostalgia of tasting the end of a beautiful phase that I find myself reaching anew for one of the scents which utilize lilacs in a realistic rendition: the Highland Lilac of Rochester, NY, the Lilac Capital of the world. Every May the Lilac Festival of Rochester consists of a lavish array of flowers and attractions which commemorates a flower traditionally close to the heart of Americans: from the garden of Thomas Jefferson to the Custis and the George Washington Families who financed the region abundant in the blooms.
The fragrance was conceived in 1967 and developped by International Flavors and Fragrances perfumers consequently becoming the romantic choice of no less than 5 US first ladies. Each Spring, the rare double flowering and other special varieties of lilac buds and blossoms are harvested, collected and tested to ensure adherence to the original composition. The formula seems to undulate between an oily, yet fresh top note not unlike that of hyacinths, with a spicy whisper of anisaldehyde. The sensuality of the drydown brings a lightly powdery, not too sweet darkness that speaks of lovers amidst the bushes. Among lilac fragrances Highland Lilac of Rochester stands as the one which best captures both facets of the natural blossoms.

Osmanthus fragrans (Sweet Osmanthus) or 桂花/ guìhuā in Chinese and金木犀/ Kinmokusei in Japanese is ~like lilac~ another member of the Oleaceae family and its fresh and highly fragrant aroma is a natural wonder professing a nuanced texture. Also known as Tea Olive (because olive is the pre-eminent member of the Oleaceae family) it is the emblem flower of Hangzhou, China. It is therefore not surprising that one of the best renditions of the elusive wonder is made in China. The local company 芭蕾 producing it translates as "Ballet", which is highly appropriate considering the dancing nature of the scent on skin. Highly fragrant and succulent in its peachy-apricoty top note it is nothing short of mouthwatering. The effect of the natural flower is undoubtedly enhanced with a synthesized apricoty creamy note (benzylaldehyde, aldehyde C16, amyl butyrate?), giving an almost velours effect along with an ionone note of sweet violet. Later on the scent takes on the delicious aroma of a freshly taken-out of the wardrobe suede coat, its butyric creaminess a welcome contrast to the fruity-floral heart.

In both fragrances the fleshy naturals are flanked by man-made essences which bring diffusion and radiance, yet the surprise they created in me was pointed: here were two elusive scents captured lovingly!


Highland Lilac of Rochester can be purchased online on the official Highland Lilac site (1oz for $49.95) I do not know of an online source for the above osmanthus fragrance, alas, as I was given a decant by a friend to try out. However Hove’s of New Orleans Tea Olive ~although not quite as faithful~ is a very nice rendition with white floral accents.

Top pic of Zhang Zigy from Hero via Chrisohnbeckett/flickr (some rights reserved) and second pic via evilelitest.blogspot.com.
Osmanthus via wikimedia commons.

Monday, April 28, 2008

After my Own Heart by Ineke: fragrance review


"April is the cruellest month, breeding
lilacs out of the dead land"
says the famous line from the Waste Land.

Lilac has always stood for me as the very emblem of April, "stirring dull roots with spring rain". So inextricably has the month been linked to the bloom's Greek name. Πασχαλια/Paschalia (Pa-scha-leeA) means "Easter blossom" simply because lilacs bloom exactly around the time of Orthodox Easter in April. But like the festivities and the spring rain, alas they last all too briefly. The much needed rain is a brief occurrence in our warmer climate.

The hunt for a realistic soliflore that replicates the lush character of this elusive bloom has occupied me for years, ever since I was a child, buying little oils at herbalist shops with my pocket money after school.
Lilac's odour profile is unique in that it incorporates the clean and the dirty rolled into one and is romantic as well as sexualised. When one buries one's face into the large panicles, the smell of intimacy, like worn musky undergarments by a lover scintillates, mingled with the honeyed pollen and the translucent dewiness of soft petals; conspiring into a spring plot to ensnare you into surrendering all thought and yield to its fragrant message to howl "the eternal yes".

And yet perfumers have never been able to extract a good and abundant enough essence for use in perfumery, therefore the combination of other natural oils and synthetics such as Apo patchone, Lindenol, Nerol 800/900, Terpineol Extra, Dimethyl Benzyl Carbinol to replicate the scent of the living flower are used. Too often the final product turns out to smell like tin foil and unappealing to anyone who has had the good fortune to have had cut branches of the real thing adorning their homes at spring, emitting their heavenly aroma beneath gauzy curtains gushing in the wind.

Syringa (Lilac) is a genus of 20–25 species of flowering plants in the olive family (Oleaceae) which are usually a light purple (commonly referred to as lilac or lilas in French) or less often light pink or white. Native to Europe and Asia, it is said that Syringa Persica has been brought to Europe at the end of the 16th century, from the Ottoman gardens, while Syringa Vulgaris grew in the Balkans. The Holy Roman Emperor's ambassador, Ogier Ghiselin de Busbecq, is credited with supplying lilac slips to Carolus Clusius, in 1562. Botanists of fame, like the herbalist John Gerard, soon had the rarity in their gardens: he notes lilacs growing “in very great plenty” in 1597. In the American colonies lilacs were introduced in the 18th century.
It is also interesting to note that purple lilacs symbolise first love and white lilacs youthful innocence (see Language of flowers).

In Ineke's After my Own Heart, I found a satisfying lilac interpretation that is innocent, yet not without the throes of first love vibrating its delicate heart strings. Described as "the scent of fresh lilacs floating on the early breeze" it fulfils its promise of a fresh perfume with a romantic inclination. The fragrance opens on a lightly powdery burst of greenery with a slightly bitter background of chilliness, like the rush of wind on a cool evening, bringing up goosebumps on warm skin. Almost instantaneously, however, a warm sweetness like that of pollen is surfacing to mollify and caress, with the delicate touch of a dot of marzipan paste on a plate of berries drizzled with a touch of Alsatian Riesling not short of its goût petrol. The composition is modern, with a more or less linear presence on the skin, meaning there is no distinct development, sustaining the impression of flower and dusty air for a good while.
To compare After my Own Heart with another modern approach on a lilac soliflore, F.Malle's En Passant, by nose Olivia Giacobetti, I would venture to say that the latter is pronouncedly more limpid and aqueous, with a slightly sour note, like sniffing fresh yeasty bread dough. Although both go for the fresh approach they divert ways very soon, as Ineke's rendition is a little dustier and sweeter and probably less dependent on particular skin chemistry. They resemble watercolours for which the artist thought of light green tones and white opalescence of a cool, bracing morning (for En Passant) and of the pinky blue skies of afternoon warmth (for After my Own Heart).
Guerlain's Angelique Lilas in the Aqua Allegoria line is another interpretation, this time with the watery theme veering into the bitter terrain of rained upon angelicas, but the pronounced Calone element in it might seem harsher than Ineke's approach.

Contemplating whether my personal lilac-strewn Eldorado has been reached, I find that like the mythical town it is best to dream and find elements of it in the fragrances on offer. Perhaps the search will never end until technology and analytical chemistry sufficiently unravel the thread of Ariadne. Until then, real stems of lilac in a vase along with pleasant fragrances that echo its sweet message such as After my Own Heart will keep me company.

Notes: bergamot, raspberry, green foliage, lilac, sandalwood, heliotrope and musk.

Info on how to obtain the fragrance and samples at Ineke.com
You can read an appreciation of the whole line from A to E clicking this Ineke article.




Les Atelies du Parfum has posted a lovely lilac poem for those of you who read French.

Clip of Erik Satie's Gymnopédie No.1 uploaded by Kyromaster on Youtube.
Pic originally uploaded by princesshaiku.

Friday, June 27, 2008

Patou Ma Collection: part 5 ~Vacances review

This painting of Marc Chagall, Lovers in the Lilacs, has always striken me as the quintessential mark of an unanswered question which both love and flowers wear like a corona: how can the ephemeral be coaxed to last?
Lilacs especially live and die for all too brief a season, creating the yearning that short-lived pleasures know how to taunt us with, reminding us of our own mortality.
Vacances by Patou, a fragrance which tries to make them last, was composed by Henri Alméras in 1936 to celebrate the first paid vacations in France (“vacances” in French). Coincidentally it was the same year that Jean Patou himself died of apoplexy at the young age of 49, immersed in business worries and anxious for the future of his house. It seems that his touch on the pulse of trends wasn’t as firmly set in the 1930s as it had been in the 1920s. Luckily the house was saved by Raymond Barbas, his brother-in-law, who would persist and would be commisioning other fragrances to his in-house perfumers Henri Alméras and Henri Giboulet: Colony in 1938, then L’heure Attendue in 1946, and Câline in 1964, as well as other less-known ones such as the 1956 Lasso, Makila, Délices

Patou himself would have loved to see the deep appreciation lilac and hyacinth lovers feel for his wonderful fragrance, however. Vacances is the best showcase for the simultaneously green, oily and metallic aspects of hyacinth, but also for the richest lilac note one could wish for in a fragrance this side of respectable. And I am saying this because lilac blossoms are profoundly dirty-smelling really, but with such beauty, such wistfulness and such abandon that they know how to play with my heartstrings.

The elusiveness of lilac is due to its resistance to yielding a sufficient essence for use in perfumery, making it the par excellence recreated note, which so often recalls housecleaning products or air-fresheners (the molecule hydroxycitronellal which is also used to recreate muguet/lily of the valley is often the culprit, as well as Terpineol) The IFF Lyral base has also been used in lilac perfumes. On some occasions, perfumers go for an unexpected combination to provide a needed counterpoint, like the aqueous note along with yeast for En Passant by Olivia Giacobetti for F.Malle; or the modern dusty take of Ineke in After my Own Heart.

But immerse your soul into Vacances and you will understand that the message of the lilac panicles is more fulsome, beckoning you to oblivion. The rays of spring sun fall on flowers as if for the first time. But despite its allegiance to spring it can be worn year round.
The starkly green opening of galbanum in Patou's Vacances is the frame to the opaque jade and peppery spice of hyacinth, with its wet green stems smashed. And then the full force of oily-sweet indolic lilac, pretty and dirty like puce-pink knickers dusted with pollen, worn for a day too long and a shower too short. The golden muskiness that remains is subtle yet definitely there, posing a gigantic question mark seeking an answer that will never come.

Notes for Vacances: galbanum, hyacinth, hawthorn, lilac, mimosa, musk, woods

Although Vacances outlived Patou himself, it got to know a hiatus until 1984 when it was re-issued as part of Ma Collection by then in-house perfumer Jean Kerléo. In a coup of inexplicable tragedy, all the scents in Ma Collection however have been discontinued and are quite hard to find. Let’s fervently pray the masterminds at Patou ~and P&G who own them~ bring it back from the dead into the realm of the living where it so passionately belongs.


"Lovers in the Lilacs" by Marc Chagall, courtesy of abcgallery.com. Bottle pic by Frances Ann Ade via Basenotes.

Tuesday, April 21, 2009

Tocadilly by Rochas: fragrance review

There is a French expression "mettre en valeur" which roughly translates as to highlight, to draw attention to one's best features. This is what Tocadilly by Rochas does; an ethereal scent that highlights the flowers of spring I love ~lilac, wisteria and mimosa~ beautifully, yet transcends the genre of floral. The feeling I get, when I sort this out of my perfume wardrobe at the first hints of spring, is just like the interplay of cool and warm one experiences upon imprinting their breath "fog" on a wet window pane.

Tocadilly by Marcel Rochas is a floral which launched in 1997 amidst a sea of aquatics and marines. It was said that it represents the younger sister of Tocade, an intensely rosy vanillic fragrance by Maurice Roucel from 1994, yet I do not perceive the kinship of spirit that should tie them in such a close relationship. They both have the same design of flacon, nevertheless, created by bottle designer Serge Mansau; but to Tocade's red packaging hues Tocadilly conterpoints blue-green-purple tones and the aura of the scent is complimentary.
Perfumer Christopher Sheldrake (currently at Chanel) is best known for his oeuvre under the wing of Serge Lutens composing a sumptuous line of persuasive orientals and opulent florals. In Tocadilly those preconceptions are shed and Sheldrake reveals a light, lacy touch that is capable of creating diaphanous effects which do not lack staying power or diffusion. The composition is segmentated into interesting facets of aqueous, fruity, floral and lightly ambery-powdery, fusing into a playful, cheerful and tender composition that is above all soft.

Three years before the modern aqueous lilacs of En Passant (2000), realised by Olivia Giacobetti for éditions des parfums Frédéric Malle, Tocadilly had captured this unholy allience between "clean" and "dirty" (Lilacs naturally have an anisic spiciness/powderiness recreated through anisaldehyde and heliotropin in fragrances, as extraction is so uneconomical/unyielding*; yet they often also possess an animalic undercurrent like pollen dusted on impolite feminine parts, especially the mauve-tinged blooms). The watery impression of Tocadilly is less "marine" than En Passant and the yeasty note is absent completely, rendering a must-try for both lovers and haters of En Passant.
The unusual pear note comes from the flavour industry and was contemporarily explored in Annick Goutal's Petite Chérie. Yet in Tocadilly it's not as easily decomposed and the absence of intense sugary lappings helps along, focusing instead on the almost pollen-like aroma of wisteria and lilacs. The mimosa is detectable ~and delectable, providing the emotional foil for the overall spring-like tonality which runs through the fragrance. Yet one would be hard pressed to designate Tocadilly to any particular season. It's utterly friendly and wearable in almost all settings and all climates, easing itself with an insouciant shrug of the shoulders and a child-like innocence that's not without a little mischief.

Notes for Rochas Tocadilly:
Top: cucumber, lilac, hyacinth, pear, jasmine, tiare, wisteria, mallow, mimosa and mandarin.
Heart: glycine/wisteria, coconut and heliotrope.
Base: sandalwood, musk and amber.

Sadly discontinued, Tocadilly is still available online.

*There is a fragrance that is purpotedly using a natural extraction of the flower itself, Highland Lilac of Rochester, to which we will return soon.

Photo Dreams and Cookies II via meren.org. Lilacs shot by PerfumeShrine, all rights reserved.

Monday, April 21, 2008

Ineke: Fragrant Presentation

It is often that I am taken by surprise in not having sampled lines which are making a ripple in the pond of niche perfumery: After all one can test only so much! My surprise turned into elation when I got the Deluxe Sample Pack that contains samples of all the current collection by Ineke. Not only is the presentation modern and aesthetically fabulous, it has the distinct air of care and understated luxury printed all over it. Coming in an anthracite box of velvety feel it opens like a matchbox to reveal five small cardboard boxes with different designs on them which you slide to open. Inside are little spray vials (actually there's quite enough quantity in each to allow for numerous tests!), each wrapped in correspondingly coloured paper. So cute! Perhaps the loveliest presentation of fragrances I have seen in sample form and a lesson for all niche brands.
The fragrances themselves reveal vignettes in Ineke's mind which she was searching a way to communicate to the public, given her preceding love for literature.

Ineke Rühland is a Canadian perfumer, the soul behind the Ineke line. She is a classically-trained perfumer who creates beautiful, original scents in her independent studio in San Francisco. She studied perfumery at ISIPCA in Versailles, France (the only official school of perfumery), under the guidance of Yves de Chiris who also helped her train at Quest thereafter and with formidable mentors such as Dominique Ropion and Isabel Doyen.
She apprenticed for three years at a fragrance house in Paris, making pilgrimages to Grasse, perfume capital of the world. Ineke finally decided to move to San Franciso, where she makes her luminous, modern fragrances.

The innovation of the collection is that each fragrance begins with a consecutive letter of the alphabet: A - After My Own Heart; B - Balmy Days and Sundays; C - Chemical Bonding; D - Derring-Do; E-Evening edged in Gold (the latest which came out recently). This original concept allows for both a little literary word play as the fragrant stories pick up from a word starting with each letter and it also serves as a wonderfully practical reminder of which perfume is the latest one, easing the customer into experiencing the evolution of the line.

The Deluxe Sample Collection contains spray samples of all 5 fragrances wrapped in a beautiful soft box with almost the tactile feel of brushed suede and the price is fully redeemable with any product purchase: A great way to try the scents!

After My Own Heart, which Ineke describes as "the scent of fresh lilacs floating on the early breeze" will get a full review shortly. To whet your appetite, I will merely state that it is a soft, subtly sweet, realistic enough lilac scent full of the airy feel of mid-spring. Lilac is an elusive blossom (because it can't be successfully distilled or a true essence extracted) which I dearly hold close to my heart indeed, so some more attention will be given to this one on Perfume Shrine. It has notes of bergamot, raspberry, green foliage, lilac, sandalwood, heliotrope and musk.

Balmy Days and Sundays veers towards a green floral scent with a lightly earthy backnote. It derives its name from The Carpenters' song "Rainy Days And Sundays" but it is in fact its antithesis. Sunny, optimistic and laid back, not rainy at all. Officially described as "a perfume about perfect moments on a relaxing Sunday, lying in the grass, breathing the smells of sweet scented flowers and fragrant leaves", it encompasses notes of freesia, leafy greens, grass, honeysuckle, rose, mimosa, a chypre accent and musk. There is an ozonic note mingled with the freesias that somehow doesn't clinch it for me, although I have to admit that it is not the usual screechy ozonic that we have come to associate with 90s perfumery. The feel is limpid and airy, without the dreaded feel of getting your nose hairs singed by the intense icy "freshness".

Chemical Bonding has uplifting citrus notes with a powdery, clean musk dry down. It is a fragrance that "playfully juxtaposes Chemistry 101 principles with human attraction", comprised of notes of smooth citrus cocktail, tea, blackberry, dewy peony, vetiver, amber and powdery musk. Although musk (as well as powder and vetiver) always catches my attention and I was fully prepared to love this above all others, it proved to be my least favorite in the lineup. Perhaps it is the wrong feel of fresh, a little too high pitched for what I imagined as a soft powdery and earthy with the grass musk. However I can fully see how it fits a summery mood of laid-back lifestyle, cotton clothes drying in the breeze and a cool juice sipped on a bright morning shared between a loving couple.

Derring Do is "an ode to the literary rogue" and comes from old English; a masculine with aromatic touches in the fougère family. Built on a fresh citrus blend, rain notes, cyclamen, magnolia, fougère accents, cardamom, pepper, guaiacwood, cedarwood and musk, the composition is really pleasant, soft and nicely unisex with its subdued woods and spices.
With its effortless character it managed to garner two compliments the day I wore it and its remnants on skin were beckoning me to apply again and again.

Evening Edged in Gold is a departure for the line in that it misses that sparse and translucent feel of the Jean Claude Ellena and Olivia Giacobetti school of thought going instead for a full bodied floriental that aims at serious evening seduction. Like munching Life Savers and plums under a blossoming tree in the heart of summer, it shows that Ineke has diversity and explores new horizons. Who knows what the next one will bring! It comprises notes of notes of osmanthus, plum, angel's trumpet, saffron, cinnamon bark, midnight candy, leather and woods. Angel's Trumpet and Midnight Candy are both plants (poisonous! closely related to datura) which project their sweet smell far in the evening breeze to aid pollination. Their magic is rendered through synthesis and married to the heavenly apricoty aroma of osmanthus, a flower prized in the East, they render a charming composition with a subtle leathery, slightly spicy and woodsy drydown that holds the whole in check, vaguely reminiscent of Daim Blond by Lutens.

Fragrances come in a sparse, hefty glass bottle of 75ml/2.5oz Eau de Parfum concentration and retail at 88$.
They are available at: Beautyhabit, Takashimaya, Begdorf Goodman, Fred Segal, Louis Boston, Luilei online, Holt Renfrew in Canada, Liberty in the UK, Bioty Bar in France, Sundhaft in Munich and Department Store Quartier 206 in Berlin, Germany, Profumeria Scarazinni in Milan, Italy and with plans to expand in many more countries (take a look for full list of stores)
To try the Ineke Deluxe Sample Pack, click here.

Pics through Ineke.

Thursday, November 2, 2006

Serge Lutens Un Lys: surrendering to fate (fragrance review)

Lily is an unabashedly feminine blossom; lush, plush, deeply odorous, decadent, inducing a state of surrender.
The shape alone entices you to lean in your nose and inhale deeply closing your eyes.
It would be better to open them, however. Because past the loaded stamens of burgundy red, there is the waxy sight and smooth touch of the petals that is redolent of a woman’s skin.

Isabelle Adjani has such a skin, in the best possible sense. Alabaster or mother of pearl doesn’t begin to describe it. Flawless, pale and surrounded by the darkest frieze of ebony hair, she is a living Poe literary heroine. The romantic ideal exalted.
It is of gorgeous Isabelle that I think upon smelling Un Lys (=a lily) by Serge Lutens of Palais Royal Shiseido in Paris. Part of the exclusive range, after a brief limited time featuring in the line-up that is being shipped to the US, it was composed by nose Chris Sheldrake and is one of the fabulous florals that include the equally captivating A la nuit and the gorgeous Fleurs d’oranger.

Isabelle showed her romantic inclinations in many films; however the innocence of character along with the beauty depicted by Un Lys is best represented by her role in the Werner Herzhog film Nosferatu starring Klaus Kinsky (father of Nastasia Kinsky).
In this remake of the Murnau-directed silent film (which in turn was based on Stoker’s Dracula, but with changed names because of copyright held by Stoker’s widow at the time), Adjani lures in the lovesick vampire into her bed, enticing him until the “terrible dawn” rises and destroys the vampire, who literally dies of love.
Count Orlok, the vampire, was played by the actor Max Shreck in the original Murnau film and his name was borrowed by Tim Burton for the villain in his Batman II (a cinematic homage to German Expressionism visually) ; it figures…
If you still want to explore further, watch Shadow of the Vampire starring John Malkovich and a Willem Dafoe made-up to amazingly resemble the Count of the first film. (I couldn’t believe my eyes!)

Un Lys plays up on notes of lily and vanilla, a light touch that surrounds the petals and makes for lasting power on the skin. Upon opening the bottle the smell that emanates is velvety soft and mostly reminiscent of lilac, as witnessed by many devotees. Of course lilac is not listed as a note; neither does it yield a useful essential oil for perfumery, because the oil rendered does not actually smell like the living thing. Therefore an array of synthetics, such as Apo patchone, Lindenol, Nerol 800/900, Terpineol Extra and Dimethyl Benzyl Carbinol are used in substituting for it.

I have no gas chromatographer by my side, nor any conclusive testimony whether one of those ingredients goes into the production of Un Lys, but thought it might be a good idea to list them, as many people swear that they smell lilac when they experience Un Lys.
To me personally it is the slightly musky background, vibrant and fragile at the same time, which captivates me and contributes to my likening it to flawless feminine skin. The sweet backdrop of vanilla is just a touch, enough to make this cherubic.

Un Lys is the dying breath of an angel in heaven and you should encounter it with the proper respect and awe.

Monday, March 5, 2012

Jo Malone Peony & Moss, White Lilac & Rhubarb, Iris & Lady Moore (London Blooms collection): new fragrances

Spring comes as all gardeners know ushering showers and sun rays, clashing greeness against the budding petals, open to coolness and warmth, giving the promise of things to come. British gardens especially aim at the superficially haphazard, but nothing is really left to chance. Spring-like fragrances inspire us with their delicate grace and their emotional romance-leaning proclivities, but they have their own dare to contrast with the prettiness.
Jo Malone aimed to captured this juxtaposing elements mood in her new "London Blooms" trio of fragrances. The new Jo Malone scents are presented in a Limited Edition collection launching in March 2012, adorned by vintage-style botanical drawings, reflecting the spirit of modern gardens.




The London Blooms LE collection includes:

Peony & Moss
A contrast of the dainty and the dirty. Delicate peony, clad in the moist earthiness of moss. Laced with
cordial-intense cassis. Encircled with ivy. A fragrance of gossamer lightness, grounded in rich verdancy.

White Lilac & Rhubarb
A celebration of seductive contrasts beloved by modern gardeners. Tart-vibrant rhubarb cuts through
delicate florals. The softness of lilac. The femininity of rose. And the almond - scent of sun-loving heliotrope.

Iris & Lady Moore
A fascinating mingling of spicy-fresh, common-or-garden geranium and noble iris, powdery
and poised. Two characterful purple florals, rustling above an elegant dry-grass bed of vetiver.


Limited edition. Available from March 2012.
$110 US / $125 CAN for each 100ml Cologne.
London Blooms will be available at Jo Malone Shops, jomalone.com, Bergdorf Goodman,Neiman Marcus and select Saks Fifth Avenue, Bloomingdale’s, and Nordstrom stores nationwide.
Available exclusively at Holt Renfrew in Canada.

info on notes, availability & prices via press release

Wednesday, September 18, 2013

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

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


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

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


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


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

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


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

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


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

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

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

All pics via Pinterest

Friday, April 30, 2010

Lubin Bluff, Figaro, Inedite, Itasca: new fragrances

Perfumers Lucien Ferrero and Thomas Fontaine worked around original olfactory themes of "Vetiver" and "L'Eau Neuve" by Lubin and produced two versions of each: Bluff and Itasca are inspired by Lubin's Vetiver , while Figaro and Inedite are inspired by L'Eau Neuve. The bottles reprise the design of the originals with stylised colour schemes and relief.


  • Lubin Bluff
  • A racy perfume, deceiving by its appearances : topped with lime, bergamot and combining nutmeg and cinnamon, Bluff is first fresh spicy and woody. Then it blossoms into a sensual, almost greedy, heart of clary sage, iris and cola nuts.
    Its finally lands on a background of cedar, patchouli sandalwood and vanilla.
    Top notes: Lime, Bergamot, Nutmeg, Cinnamon.
    Heart note: Sage, Iris, Coconut Cola, Nectarine
    Base Notes: Vetiver, Cedar, Patchouli, Sandalwood


  • Lubin Figaro
  • Bold and seductive like Beaumarchais, Figaro take as its inspiration liberties with the conventions. Its Vetiver and fig heart notes is embellished with apple, plum and clover. The coriander leaves gives the green effect and ocean pine provides a marine aromatic facet . The woody wake finally combines amber, vetiver, sandalwood, tonka bean and balsam of Styrax.
    Top Notes: Grapefruit, Bergamot, Pine
    Heart Notes: fig, apple, plum, clover
    Base notes: Vetiver, Styrax, Sandalwood, Tonka Bean


  • Inédite by Lubin
  • First, a rosewater, innocent and fresh as a mandarin of Sicily, Inédite is spicy and sweet, with a floral wake of heliotrope, lilac, rose and nectarine. Soon the vanilla, iris and patchouli reveals the spices. Sensual Circassian, rubbed with cinnamon, pepper and coriander, cedar and musk, make it even more voluptuous.
    Top Notes: mandarin, bergamot, pepper and pink peppercorns.
    Heart Notes: Coriander, Lilac, Rose
    Base Notes: Vanilla, Iris, Patchouli, White Musk


  • Lubin Itasca
  • The Forest of America. The Mississippi River rises in Lake Itasca, in the heart of Minnesota. Itasca by Lubin evokes America's deep forests, those of Algonquin Indians and pioneers. The Minnesota red pine accompanies them on a background of amber, incense, Java vetiver and Texas cedar . First refreshed by juniper berries, then it develops a spicy harmony of wood combined with cloves and nutmeg.
    Top notes: Neroli, Mandarin, Juniper Berries
    Heart note: Clove, Sage, Nutmeg, Geranium Leaves
    Base Note: Red Pine, Vetiver, Amber.

    The new Lubin fragrances come in Eau de Parfum 75ml spray bottles for 85 euros each.

    Monday, June 1, 2009

    Flora Attica: Galivanting amidst the Greek gardens

    The last day of May had me leafing through the photos that I had taken throughout the Veniamin month of spring. The fragrant orgy of the warm Greek spring was simply irresistible not to lock away in digital form for the gloomiest days of winter and the promise of a rampant summer was achingly palpable in every petal and every leaf.
    Here are some of them as a small tribute to the glory of scented walks in the city...




    The season of the lilac is all too brief, its passing leaving behind a nostalgic pang for beauty betrodden.

    I like to prolong their fragrant whisperings by wearing Tocadilly, After my Own Heart by Ineke and Highland Lilac of Rochester well into the early throes of summer, when their lush, ripe beauty is but a distant memory. (click the links for reviews)






    Pittosporum tobira (the dominant blossom in the heart of the strict, celebral chypre Knowing by Estee Lauder) hides in its small little corola a sweet, intoxicating smell of white floral longing.
    The whiffs caught in the evening make the heart palpitate with pleasure and rapture.




    The vibrant flowers of oleander in pink, white or salmon are characteristic of the Greek landscape and truly abundant, even in the intense heat of the summer. Their dusty, bittersweet aroma that combines earth and stem is indicative of their poisonous nature, yet tempting to a tentative taste.





    Robinia pseudoacacia (mock acacia) on the other hand blooms safely in May and the white grappes hanging off the trees are swaying in the cool breeze of early morning with the promise of sunny happiness.



    Small statuettes are very common in doorways and porticos and here we have a Venetian lion under a climbing vine and fuschia bougainvillea bush. The early peaches are visible on the peach tree at the background. The succulent juice of the fruit whets my appetite for Péché Cardinal by parfums MDCI, in which the sinful peach is the indomitable protagonist.




    Fig trees
    , their mighty shade and their dusty, bitter tang of the leaves always a welcome solace in the schorching rays of high summer, are already producing their first figs, unripe and green. They're bitter still, their white-ish "milk" making one's face grimace upon smelling like a child sucking on a sour lemon for the very first time.
    The refreshing quality of both tree and fruit is lovingly captured in L'artisan's Premier Figuier, Cielo by Napa Valley, and A la figue by Satellite.







    Scarlett bougainvilleas are sadly without their match in perfumery, but their emblematic contrast with the white of the houses casts our mind to summer vacations on Greek isles and their respective irresistible bouquet of aromata of herbs and foliage.

    Roses are early bloomers in the warm climate and the juxtaposition of this most English of flowers with the terracotta of the archaic metopes and akroteria is arresting in its unexpectedness. Whenever the mood strikes me for a lush rose fragrance such as these blooms I turn to the embullient rose and violet combination that is Yves Saint Laurent's Paris; its crystal melody speaking of feminine elegance and almost tipsy romanticism. When I want an earthier companion to my rose, Une Rose Chyprée by Andy Tauer and Frédéric Malle's Une Rose provide the rich, dirty feel that enrobs my roses with the pungent soil odour following a summer thunderstorm. And finally when I'm all out for an orientalised classical rose that "would smell as sweet", nothing will do but Guerlain's Nahéma.


    Last but not least, this garlanded doorway of delight had me stop in my tracks even before I turned the corner of the small alleyway; the fragrant stream of the jasmine trellis was so potent, so intoxicating, my feet had a will of their own trying to track the source of the heavenly aroma! Nothing caprtures the beauty and the awe of summer jasmine in the warm embrace of the Mediterannean like A la Nuit by Serge Lutens ~its enveloping hug is as mesmerising as falling in love all over again: not only with one's beloved but, more importantly, with life itself.

    All photos by Elena Vosnaki, copyright for Perfume Shrine. Click to enlarge.

    Thursday, October 6, 2011

    Gustave Alphonse Fragifert: The ill-fated French Perfumer & his Wellington Fragrances

    Gustave Alphonse Fragifert was a brilliant but ill-fated French perfumer who lived from 1880 to 1911 and died under mysterious circumstances in South America. He wrote his formulas for four perfumes in code, which have now resurfaced in New Zealand after 100 years.

    Sounds intriguing? This is the fictitious tale of a 12-minute-long performance in Wellington, New Zealand, but the fragrances are real*, each of them representing a season and are both art-directed and composed by Francesco van Eerd. Van Erd is Dutch-born and forestry graduate New Zealender, who has also studied perfumery in Grasse and Britain, and who acts with the aid of performing arts student Robbie van Dijk, in this amusing performance. Based at the Wellington Underground Market, Fragrifert (pronounced frah-gree- fair and I'm sure I'm missing some inside linguistic joke that is perched on Dutch, which I don't know) has been delighting visitors with live performances in a theatrette beside the stall (every half hour from 10.30am until 3.30pm) since the 3rd of September. Sounds like a don't miss if you're around!

    *The Fragrifert Scents are:
    Ete (=summer) has notes of grapefruit, cedar, prune, white musk, oakmoss, vanilla and ambergris. Lilac (for spring) is built on flowers, one of them being lilac: broom, mimosa, heliotrope, rose and violet, laced with tobacco, patchouli and sandalwood, as well as citruses and liquorice. Automne is a soft oriental with cinnamon, tyberose, vanilla and orchirds, while Hiver (=winter) interprets the cool, yet spicy, wintersweet shrub, adding lily of the valley and cyclamen notes.
    Each fragrance at 25% concentration (potent!) is 24.50$ or 80$ for the set of four.

    news via the dominion post

    Wednesday, January 2, 2013

    Perfume Primers: Aldehydic Florals for Beginners

    Perfume Primers is a new feature on the Perfume Shrine site, intended for beginners who cannot find their way through the tangled cosmos of perfume writing in print and on the web, but also insightful enough (and hopefully written in a non-condenscending manner) to appeal to more seasoned perfume fans as well. These primers go beyond the comprehensive raw materials/perfume notes articles (linked on the right hand column of the site) or perfume terms articles (the vocabulary of the perfume language, also linked on the right hand column); they intent to highlight issues that straddle categories and skirt central themes essential for fragrance comprehension and aim to be relatively short and concise. In short, if you're new to perfume, you're advised to begin here (and possibly the various How To guides, linked on the right too) and make your way through the other features.

    I begin as requested by readers' emails with a somewhat "confusing" genre, aldehydic florals, which accounts for a vast amount of perfumes on the market, not to mention numerous historical ones. Not merely an allusion to including "aldehydes" materials in the formula of said perfumes (aldehydes can appear in any fragrance family, from chypre to oriental) the trope has particularities that need addressing.


    The perfume term "floral aldehydic" applies to a subcategory of the "floral" family of perfumes (perfumes with an emphasis on the olfactory impressions of flowers) whose origins go back to two acclaimed classics, both emerging in the 1920s: Chanel No.5 and Lanvin's Arpege. "Aldehydic" refers to aldehydes, of course, a large group of usually synthetically recreated ingredients with varying scents  (more on which  on this link), but what "makes" a "floral aldehydic" is the presence of a significant amount of so called aliphatic aldehydes within the formula in combination with floral, woody and animalic notes.

    Those aliphatic aldehydes or "fatty aldehydes" , (i.e. the string of aldehydes C10, C11 and C12, named after the number of carbon atoms contained in their molecule) present in Chanel No.5 have become "code" for this perfumery trope. They make up a staggering 1% of the formula of No.5, marking it as a milestone in modern perfumery. Issued in the 1920s, the era of modernism in the arts, this is the reason why they're classified as "modern style fragrances" in some taxonomies, after the Chanel pioneer. Lanvin's Arpege is invariably considered the second great example in the genre, different enough from the Chanel (woodier, creamier, softer) so as to put itself in a important historical slot.

    These fragrances smell soapy, waxy, citrusy, a complex and abstract scent that we can pinpoint as decidedly "perfumey", often 'retro' in feel too, as many women of a certain age cling on to them faithfully as the scents of their prime (aldehydics were supremely popular in the 1950s and 1960s and in some part into the early to mid 1970s). Simply put, aldehydic florals smell unmistakably like one has put perfume on, rather than smelling of one's own "scent" (what is colloquially refered to as "skin scents"). They're supremely "manufactured", man-made in feel and therefore can be interpreted as the prime sign of "status perfume-wearing", signage for affording to buy and wear a luxury product; an effect purposefully sought after upon creating First by Van Cleef & Arpels, "the scent of a wealthy, tasteful woman". They stand for classic elegance, a pearly opalescence, what we'd picture Audrey Hepburn or Grace Kelly wearing in their classic mid-20th century films (Audrey did in fact favor one, L'Interdit by Givenchy, originally made for her). Aldehydic florals are invariably aimed at women, although men are free to experiment if they're daring and uninhibited.

    In Chanel No.5 aliphatic aldehydes are coupled with (at the time of creation) natural essence of jasmine and rose, alongside natural musk, ambergris and civet (the latter three being "animalic notes", more on which on the link). The sharpness, pike-through-the-nose effect of the aldehydes is smoothed by bergamot and ylang-ylang and sexualized by the animal-derived notes mentioned above.

    Floral aldehydics make steady use of a standard triad of flowers ~rose, jasmine and lily of the valley~ while there might be lesser amounts of other flower aromas such as lilac, tuberose and carnation "notes" (the term is used in quotes as lilac and carnation are recreated through imaginative combinations and lab synthetics, the natural flowers yielding insufficient essence). The more tenacious notes perceived much later include woods (sandalwood was the #1 choice for this genre), vetiver (an exotic earthy-smelling grass with an extensive root system classified in the "woods" smells), the starch scent of orris, musks and amber. Whether there is much vanillin (i.e synthetic vanilla) or not in the formula determines a further sub-category with the genre of floral aldehydic, sweet or non-sweet.

    pic via myfavoritememphispeople.com

    Classic reference floral aldehydic fragrances include: Chanel No.5, Arpege by Lanvin, Chanel No.22, Worth Je Reviens, Caron Fleurs de Rocaille and Nocturnes, Lanvin My SinMadame Rochas, Givenchy L'Interdit, Rive Gauche (Yves Saint Laurent), Calandre (Paco Rabanne), First (Van Cleef and Arpels) and White Linen (Estee Lauder).
    More aldehydic floral fragrances can be seen with links to fragrance reviews on this collective link (scroll for the list), alongside many modern aldehydic fragrance reviews found under the tab Floral Aldehydic.

    It's common to hear people noticing that floral aldehydic perfumes give them an impression of soap and/or of functional products (toiletries, detergents etc) or sometimes a "powdery" feel (as in body powder). This is a cultural phenomenon, as the use of the relatively cheap aliphatic aldehydes meant that they were used in many of these products (especially bath soap) throughout the mid and late 20th century; the instability of the ingredients, alongside synthetic vanillin, wasn't too problematic in that type of functional perfumery, so their cost effectiveness and diffusion were advantages.

    Floral aldehydics have also inextricably tied themselves to a French-style inclination (you can refer to the Perfume Shrine's article on "french style perfumes" for two directions on that), though they're by no means restricted to France; in fact numerous American fragrances are floral aldehydics, as it's a much beloved genre by US audiences. Last but not least, aldehydic florals are often -among some others- termed "old lady fragrances" by the general public; this fascinating and borderline disturbing cultural association is further explained in this link.

    Tuesday, July 26, 2011

    The Scent of Nivea Cream: Nostalgic Remembrances in a Blue Tin

    Who can forget the classic blue tin of Nivea Cream? Half the fun of using the unctuous, thick-pasted cream on wherever there was a graze or scratch or burn (or just for cosmetic purposes), was the smell. A scent so full of good-humoured herbal sweet comfort, nothing really sinister could come your way. Or so we thought, as kids. Stumbling upon what really made up that memorable aroma, many people's long and arduous quest, is precious and we're happy it to share it on Perfume Shrine:



    "Close your eyes and take a deep breath. Even blindfolded, there’s no mistaking it: the fragrance of NIVEA. Its discreet perfume oil is considered one of the classic fragrances for skin cream. Because very few synthetic aroma chemicals were available in the early 20th century, the NIVEA fragrance consists largely of essential oils. Contributors to its flowery bouquet include lily of the valley, rose, violet, lilac and lavender, with orange and lemon fruit essences rounding out the fragrance. And incidentally: the secret original formula for the perfume oil used in NIVEA cream has changed very little after all these years."

    Might we hereby note that neither violet, nor lilac, nor lily of the valley yield an adequate enough essential oil for anything even remotely resembling mass production, but we realise that an official admission on using even some aromachemicals is far-fetched. You'll have to content with having the scent notes delineated for you for the classic Nivea cream in the blue tin though: It's the stuff unforgettable scent memories are built on...



    Photo collage of vintage Nivea cream ads via oranges & apples
    Quote from Always Inspiring via M.K.Krydd (thanks!)

    Tuesday, July 13, 2010

    A.Tauer Carillon pour un Ange: fragrance review

    The newest fragrance by Andy Tauer, Carillon pour un Ange, takes its inspiration from a material that is often described as angelic, lily of the valley. Hence the working name during the creation process was Gabriel. Actually, truth be told, lily of the valley (or muguet as the French call it) is not exactly chastity material as a recent study revealed. Still, the piercingly sweet, very clear and green aroma creates the impression of puerile innocence, of tender cheeks and pouty small mouths.
    A carillon on the other hand is a musical instrument composed of at least 23 cup-shaped bells played from a baton keyboard using fists and feet, its sound chiming with piercing clarity, much like the aroma of lily of the valley pierces the air with its declaration of spring's final assertion. So carillon pour un ange, a carillon for an angel... The seraphic allusion is certainly not lost, the fragrance is quite lovely.

    The greeness in Carillon pour un Ange is delightfully tinted with the darker, oilier hint of hyacinth as was the case in a former Tauer scent, Hyacinth and a Mechanic. Even though the latter was an experimental batch, serving an SOS purpose on its bottle-message across the world (more details here), it featured at least two of the elements which infiltrated themselves in Carillon: the green hyacinth and the leathery note. In Carillon the leather is very subdued. Instead one almost loses the lily of the valley field for the hesperides grove at some point. Tauer has fetish materials which he uses over and over to great effect: I seem to feel his mandarin peel materialise again and again; it's such a great lifting note that it makes for immediately inviting openings, often coupled with rose as in Une Rose Chyprée, or Incense Rosé. (click for reviews of both)

    The challenge with lily of the valley is twofold: One the one hand, it's so easy to lapse into the "salle de bains" hygienic note or the Aisle of Glade (as March puts it), due to its ubiquitness in functional products via several synthetic replications (natural extraction is not cost-effective or yielding enough). Andy Tauer is using a combination of IFF's Lyral and Lilial for his own creation, bypassing the problem of sharpness by the injection of a sweet note reminiscent of violets and lilacs (pink jasmine might be actually creating the lilac impression, the two share a bubble-gummy nectarous headiness).
    One the other hand, there is the sacred Diorissimo, an über alles classic if there ever was one; impossible to surpass and one would be wise to not even try. Then again, now that Diorissimo is not recognizing itself in the mirror all too clearly these days due to multiple surgical interventions, one might reconsider. Still, the cleverness lies not in trying to create a limp-wristed or sharp rendition of lily of the valley, nor a pastoral gouache, but to boldly propose a third path: that which marries the white bell with other flowers and which contrasts it with elements to which it is naturally emerging from: the decaying leaves being eaten up by fungi, the woods where it grows, the green tapiserrie on which it sprouts its minuscule bell-shaped blossoms. Thus the base of Carillon pour un Ange takes on woody and skin-soft nuances, mossy, non dirty really (it would be paradoxical, after all), with the shades of love, death and rebirth winking to a theatre full of children watching mesmerised a play of magical marionettes.

    Polish composer Zbigniew Preisner says "For me there exists only one music -good music"...and "I compose what is close to my heart". Substitute music with perfumery and you've got Tauer to a T.



    Notes for Andy Tauer Carillon pour un Ange: Top: rose, ylang ylang, lilac
    Heart: lily of the valley, jasmine, leather
    Base: ambergris, moss, woods.


    Carillon pour un Ange is available as Eau de Parfum Riche (which lasts very well) in small hand-poured 15ml bottles directly from Tauer Perfumes or on Luckyscent. Samples are available here. We're hosting a giveaway for two full bottles, comment to enter.

    Painting Sleep lost in Dreams by James C.Christensen via morgenthruston
    In the interests of full disclosure I sampled the perfume through the generosity of the perfumer himself; his is well documented.

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