Perfume Shrine: Search results for vintage

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

Thursday, December 22, 2011

Paco Rabanne La Nuit: fragrance review

Smell La Nuit by Spanish-born designer Paco Rabanne and nostalgise about the 1980s with a vengeance. In that carnal decade, La Nuit was aimed at "the sensual, sophisticated and modern woman" "partout où est la nuit" (everywhere where it's night-time) and was quite abruptly discontinued in the following decade. Paco Rabanne fragrances from the 1969 cool Calandre to the 1988 men's aromatic Ténéré and the excellent 1979 Métal suffer from market maladjustment despite their pitch-perfect tune-in with their times; they fly under the radar for no good reason and get discontinued all too unjustly. La Nuit (1985) is a similar case in point.

Poised between a leathery chypre with fruity accents and a deep oriental (with no great sweetness), Paco Rabanne's La Nuit, composed by perfumer Jean Guichard, is vaguely reminiscent of the danger and swagger of vintage Narcisse Noir by Caron: c'est troublant! It also has elements of the sharp scimitar weilded by Cabochard and the urinous honeyed leather of Jules by Dior.
Once upon a time a certain biophysicist with a keen interest in perfumes had given away the perfume's core character by (positively) claiming that it smells "as if you sprayed Tabu on a horse", thus delineating the two main directions the composition goes for: civet (of which Tabu has oodles) and leather. This of course goes contrary to prior writings in French where he compared the upkeep of interest in smelling the dissonant top notes with musicians tuning up their string instruments before a concert. His apology and excuse?

"My extenuating circumstance was that at the time (1985) I lived in Nice, where women can be toe-curlingly vulgar, and it was a big hit. [...] Now that the Niçoises have moved on, I see it for what it was all along: the sexiest fragrance since Cabochard”.

The construction of Paco Rabanne's La Nuit lies in the precarious juxtaposition of unassuming, fresh ingredients over "animalic" notes (those smells which recall real animals or rather our libidinous animal urges, as delineated by the discourse between Jung and Freud). The top of La Nuit is profuse in linalool, rather aromatic with a hint of spiciness like basil and myrtle, and a "bruised" citrusy note that results from the aging process in the vintage bottle. In the evolving process, golden hued plum and peach skin (the note made famous by undecalactone in Guerlain's Mitsouko) lend an old-school, rich saturation; compared to the graphic shrill effects that many contemporary fragrances go for in their search for "freshness", 1980s fragrance seem akin to canvases painted by the Great Masters. Of course this tells us more about the state of perfumery now than about La Nuit.
What transpires through this deep, pungent fragrance is an animalic, sweaty mantle (made slightly austere by a woody note of cedar) that engulfs a honeyed rose heart, the latter perhaps reminiscent of L'Arte de Gucci; the rose isn't what it's about nevertheless, but serves as a feminine counterpoint to the more unisex animal notes: Not only a huge dose of civet, but also the whole kit-and-caboodle of retro musks, intimate-smelling beeswax and bittersweet leather, almost urinous notes. The effect is a rich, individual leathery fragrance which can be quite alluring on the right type of defiant woman (or a discerning man); personally I can easily imagine it on Violetta Sanchez.

Extremely tenacious for an eau de toilette and even an eau de parfum (the latter slightly better nuanced) and very discernible sillage make this a vintage fragrance to use sparingly, especially if you "don't want to offend". (Then again, what are you doing playing with La Nuit?). The parfum (procured via a valued friend collector) is frankly exquisite.
I don't find it as debauched or decadent a scent as other hunters of the vintage scented gems (the term affectionately used is "skanky"), but rather edgy and quite French in its "je m'en foutisme" that French perfume wearers always had about their personal choice.
No wonder it's discontinued...

Notes for Paco Rabanne La Nuit:
Top Notes: Bergamot, Lemon, Tangerine, Myrtle, Cardamom, Artemesia (Armoise)
Heart Notes: Jasmine, Rose, Pepper, Peach
Base Notes: Cedarwood, Leather, Patchouli, Oakmoss, Animalic note, Civet

Photo of Arielle, Monte Carlo 1982, by Helmut Newton

Friday, June 19, 2009

Top 10 Memorable Masculine Fragrances

With Father's Day around the corner, I was contemplating about those formative scents that marked my budding route to the position I am now: The fragrances my parents wore were a constant olfactory homeland, shaping my tastes and creating the desire to at once emulate and differentiate myself from. So today in collaboration with my guest writer Mike Perez and on a joint project with Gaia of The Non Blonde we're listing the top 10 masculine colognes (classic, modern, niche or mainstream) that we feel can fondle the imagination and create a halo of cherished, unforgetable memories to those that come in contact with their wake. And hopefully make the person wearing them seem a little closer even in absentia...

The female perspective: Elena's top 10 list

Aramis for Men by Aramis
Suave name that belies its intentions opening on a crisp note of artemisia and bergamot with intense woodiness, thanks to sandalwood. Composed by Bernand Chant and the male version of Cabochard, Aramis made it OK to leave a bombastic luxurious sillage announcing itself in Wagnerian ouvertures that demanded their own Brunhilde following yet still smells distinguished after all the Polo and the Drakkar Noir.

Bel Ami by Hermès
The most refined and smooth leather scent imaginable, this "beautiful friend" was recently reformulated with more lemony top notes.

Déclaration By Cartier
Modernised version of both Eau d'Hermès and classic Eau Sauvage, Déclaration successfully juxtaposes fresh tonalities with more risqué animal magnetism in an idiosyncratic mix. A slightly cocky chap in pressed chinos enjoys his aromatized inky tea taken in long, sensuous sips while checking the attractive passersby’s. [review link]

Derby by Guerlain
Leather notes rest atop moss and minty herbs, with a thick, spicy clove introduction. Later a floral phase of carnation and jasmine peek through a smooth richness that goes into the forest floor of a traditional men’s fougère. The leather note of a battered jacket has withstood the elements in a battle at some far away place.

Dior Homme by Christian Dior
An iris fragrance for men sounded like an oxymoron a few years back but the grace of Dior Homme shattered preconceptions about what is feminine and what is masculine leaving the choice to us.

Habit Rouge by Guerlain
My father used to wear this one and his tender nature has stayed with me. Named after the red riding jacket of men for going hunting on horses in the english countryside this is both class and comfort in a bottle. It opens with citrus, then meanders along a slightly spicy path to some cinnamon paired with patchouli, finally leaving a subtly leathery, vanillic caress.

Muscs Kublaï Khan by Serge Lutens
Do you hide a man from the souk in your heart? All khol-ed eyes and heavy languorous lips that tell a thousand tales of musk? I'd love to smell this on a man...

Pontevecchio Colonia Maxima by Nobile 1942
A hint of frankincense lends a cool and mysterious tonality to what is essentially a neoclassical masculine composition that recalls silver-screen heroes and their infinite grace. [review link]

Sycomore by Chanel
From the delicately smoky, citrusy trail emphasizing its aristocratic dryness and the subtly cooling, clean muguet notes that complement the Haitian vetiver variety, to the earthy, almost chocolate & licorice-like lasting impression, Sycomore is an object of beauty that speaks without words. [review link]

Vie de Château by Patricia de Nicolaï
So often men searching for an Eau Fraîche fall into the trap of buying a bestseller off Sephora like Cool Water, Aqua di Gio or Kenzo Homme. Go one (OK, three) better and create memories with this unusual choice: posing as an Eau de Cologne (with its grapefruit and herbs), but it's so much more!

The male perspective: Mike Perez's List

1.British Sterling by Dana (My Dad wore this when I was a kid and somehow the scent is inextricably tied to him and the scented handkerchiefs he always kept in his pocket. I’m sure it’s been reformulated, the last time I sneaked a sniff at the pharmacy it smelled weak, pungently metallic and empty. Back then it reeked of warmth, woods and a small whiff of tobacco – the smell of my Dad)

2. Grey Flannel by Geoffrey Beene (The signature violet leaf fougere – you either love it or you don’t. Affordable classy exuberance. My late grandfather wore this and while I don’t own a bottle of this, just a whiff of GF on someone else makes me melancholic and wistful)

3. Rive Gauche Pour Homme by Yves St. Laurent (When I was growing up, my dad shaved with Barbasol brand shaving foam. RGPH incorporates that retro, barbershop component and adds an extremely compliment gathering, anise prominent, fougère glimmer. One of those scents that I can wear to the gym or the office and it always works)

4. Vetiver by Guerlain (Is any Top 10 list of masculine scents complete, without Guerlain’s Vetiver? I personally wear the harder-to-find vintage Eau de Cologne formula [rectangular non-frosted/striped smooth glass bottle, gold color juice, green label edged in gold]. The salty, crisp vetiver has a more toned down and integrated tobacco note than the ‘new’ EdT. You can splash on liberally – perfect for all climates and occasions. The only fragrance that I own two bottles of)

5. Fumidus by Profumum (Almost an exercise on vetiver: single malt scotch-like top notes, woods, extremely harsh and smoky. An over-the-top masculine that commands attention - yet it dries down to a plush soft and tender peat-wood, creosote aroma. The only drawback is the luxury pricing ($240/100ml) – making it, then, the perfect Father’s Day gift to receive!)

6. Habit Rouge by Guerlain (There are seven different versions: Eau de Cologne, Eau de Toilette, Light [Legere], Eau de Parfum, After Shave, Parfum [Extrait] and the newly released Sport. My favorite is definitely the vintage Eau de Cologne. The animalic-dusty-lemon-vanilla pastry aura is only matched by the equally brilliant feminine counterpart, Shalimar. Essential)

7. Nostalgia by Santa Maria Novella (A list of scents for fathers must include a leather scent, no? Well this one smells like the car engine [under the hood specifically], the leather interior, the leather wrapped steering wheel – winding up with a silky and elegant vanilla finish.)

8. Devin by Aramis (A dash of green galbanum atop a healthy dose of castoreum give this a virile, lived-in-favorite-pair-of-jeans feel. I prefer this masculine chypre over the more formal ones like Derby by Guerlain and Bel Ami by Hermès, and Devin is more affordable & easier to source too.

9. Yatagan by Caron (Resinous, woody, dry, strong, dirty and distinctive enough to smell like nothing you currently own. Enough said: just get a bottle. When you do try to source a vintage bottle from the 1970’s or 80’s: the black capped vintage bottles – the pungent, celery seed top notes are less strident in the vintage bottles)

10. Mouchoir de Monsieur by Guerlain (A quiet, animalic lavender scent that I have recently fallen in love with. This one just reeks of quality ingredients and masterful blending. A subtle scent that speaks in hushed tones, but with a commanding respect. I, myself, am not a father, but if I had children I would want them to remember me with a fragrance that smells like Mouchoir de Monsieur)

Please check The Non Blonde for more memorable masculines!

Related reading on PerfumeShrine: Top 25 of current fragrances we can still enjoy

Pic of Alain Delon in Rocco e i suoi Fratelli via teegardennash.com and with Claudia Cardinale in El Gatopardo via calidoscopio.net. Burt Lancaster pic via armyfamilyok.files.wordpress

Wednesday, August 14, 2013

Perfumery Material: Galbanum, Bitter Green Claws

Galbanum is a material that has such an intense personality that like a memorable villain in a film it ends up casting its shadow so long that it might easily overwhelm everything else. If the Wicked Witch of the West in the Wizard of Oz had a scent, could it be this green raw leafy smell to match her greenish pallor?

The common fallacy about galbanum in perfume compositions derives from the fact that it is routinely mentioned as a top note; in fact galbanum is a sticky resin of plant origin, much like labdanum from rockrose, and forms part of the more tenacious ingredients in the formula in the heart and base. But it is its intense bitterness with green tonalities, like a super-concentrated coniferous elixir at some crazy alchemist's lab, which comes through, all the way from the bottom up front and is immediately tingling the nose with a clearing capacity that only ammonia salts can surpass.

The shock is to be expected. Take someone unaccustomed to perfumes and let them sniff the initial spray of Chanel No.19; high chances are they won't sit around for the drydown, such is the displeasure at the acrid, intense crack of the whip to the untrained nose. It's no coincidence that the plant it derives from owes its own etymology to the Latin ferule which refers to a schoolmaster's rough rod. A bitch slap it is and it imparts that cool, hard as nails quality to the perfumes it participates in. However it is also prized for its fixative qualities: like many of the heavier molecules with lower volatility, it aids to anchor down the more ephemeral ingredients and as it expands in a room you can feel the air sweetening and becoming comforting with balsam and wood nuances.

Galbanum oil is derived via steam distillation from the resinoid that comes from the trunks and roots of the Ferula galbaniflua plant, which historically grew in ancient Mesopotamia and later Persia. The flowering heads resemble those of angelica or fennel, with which it shares the force of character. The resin is naturally produced when the plant is wounded, in nature's coping mechanism to heal. Even within the same plant there are variations: the Levant and the Persian, with the latter being softer and more turpentine-evoking.

via

Smelling the thick, softly crumbling, yellowish paste and the clear oil produced off it is a revelation: acrid, stupendously green, a tornado of turpentine and earthy, peaty, almost chewy aroma which becomes muskier, more thickly resinous as time goes on. It is mercurial! In dilution in alcohol the "bouquet" opens up and one is reminded of crushed pine needles or pea pods with lemony overtones, very fresh, vegetal and sharp, like snapping the fresh leaves between forefinger and thumb.

The chemical constituents of galbanum are monoterpenes (α and β pinene), sabinene, limonene, undecatriene and pyrazines. The pure oil is, however, often adulterated with pine oil which may be why some batches and imports smell more of green, snapped pine needles than others. The fact that galbanum is so powerful translates as two significant considerations for perfumers: lightness and context. Naturally "greenish" smelling essences/reconstruction of the floral persuasion, such as lily of the valley and hyacinth or narcissus, pair exceedingly well with galbanum.

In Vent Vert (translating as "green wind") by Balmain, introduced in 1945, galbanum gained a starring role and introduced in earnest the mode for "green" fragrances; perfumer maverick Germaine Cellier, instead of using it to compliment other notes, made it the protagonist, giving it full reign and ushering thus a new wave of more "natural-smelling" fragrances. "Green" fragrances, you see, evoke the outdoors and nature much more than the sophisticated intimacy and animal-density of chypres. Nevertheless galbanum is also clearly present in many chypres and fougeres as well (the classic Ma Griffe by Carven, Parfum de Peau, the classic Lauder Private Collection, the vintage extrait of Miss Dior, vintage Cabochard, Bandit with its knife brandishing swagger, Givenchy III, the modern Private Collection Jasmine White Moss by Lauder) and woody florals (the above mentioned No.19, Fidji by Laroche, Deneuve by Catherine Deneuve, Patou 1000, Le Temps d'une Fête by De Nicolai, Bas de Soie by Lutens, Silences by Jacomo, Untitled Marti Margiela), even florientals! (Just mentioning in passing Boucheron Femme, Comme des Garçons by Comme des Garçons, Givenchy Ysatis, Moschino by Moschino, and vintage Magie Noire). It'd be impossible to list them all!

collage via sandrascloset

Chanel used to use a superior grade of Iranian galbanum which helped form the top note of Cristalle and of No.19. In the modern, more youth-oriented version of No.19 Poudre the bite of galbanum has been mollified in order not to scare the horses.

Finally Vol de Nuit (Guerlain) and Must de Cartier (vintage) both owe a lot to the accent of galbanum: the introduction of the green note in a classically oriental, soft focus composition is akin to daggers thrown on a supple and vulnerable female form at some olfactory circus; unmissable.

Ref: LAWRENCE, B.M; "Progress in Essential Oils" 'Perfumer and Flavorist' August/September 1978 vol 3, No 4 p 54 McANDREW, B.A; MICHALKIEWICZ, D.M; "Analysis of Galbanum Oils". Dev Food Sci. Amsterdam: Elsevier Scientific Publications 1988 v 18 pp 573 – 585

Thursday, September 3, 2009

Balenciaga Michelle: fragrance review & history

It is always with some astonishment that I find myself in a Wells-like universe while critically appraising fragrances from decades ago: the Balenciaga classic perfumes opus in particular is supremely refined in the grand manner (Quadrille, Prelude, Cialenga, and the more famous Le Dix), yet surprises lay hidden in less far off decades ~as recently as 1979, if 30 years ago can be seen as "recent". Michelle, created that year, as a posthumous homage to the great couturier who had died in 1972 and named after his favourite model, is a classic from the house reflecting values of another time.

Intense in its message, floral and oriental at once with a wink of aldehydes on top like topz eyes behind dark sunglasses, and weird in a sublime way, thanks to a ginormous tuberose and earthy rose in its heart, Michelle by Balenciaga shares a common element with that other fangled, musky and bitter tuberose of the 80s, Dior's Poison by nose Edouard Fléchier (1985); and to a lesser degree with the more vulgar Giorgio by Giorgio Beverly Hills, a fragrance that sadly traumatised a whole generation of teenagers into succumbing to watery ozonics in the hopes of escaping the deadly, miasma-like fumes of their mothers' scent which wafted from every taxi and every elevator to the point of suffocation.
As someone wittingly quipped, the first Dior Poison is "like road testing an Abrams M1 tank in the evening rush hour". To further that image, I should add that Giorgio is all of the above, but done in picturesque Dubrovnik, pre- the Yugoslavian War ravages, when it was a perfect specimen of UNESCO's Cultural Heritage collection of cities, pristinely preserved in formaldehyde.

Cristóbal Balenciaga (1895-1972), a Basque-born Spanish couturier renowned for his impecable attention to detail, his contempt for bourgeoisie status of the Chambre and referred to as "the master of us all" by Christian Dior himself, became famous for his architectural eye and ultra-modernity. The latter was especially exhibited in his "bubble skirts" and odd shapes, the "square coat", the swanlike collars and the "bracelet sleeves" among them. His fragrances reflected his demanding and sophisticated nature: they had character!

The nose behind Balecianga's Michelle is Françoise Caron, best known for Eau d'Orange Verte for Hermès, Kenzo by Kenzo (the original with the blossom-shaped stopper) and the reconstruction of Ombre Rose L'Original for Brosseau, but also for Montana's oriental mohair blanket Just Me and the popular oriental/gourmand Escada Collection. Her Gió for Giorgio Armani (1992) continues with the tuberose treatment so prevalent in the 80s and in a way reflects some of the aspects of Michelle without following it closely. Whereas Gió is nectarous, fruity and honeyed, Michelle is rather sharper, mossier and with that weird perfume-y note de tête which is commonly referred to in perfumephiliac parlance as the "bug spray accord". Both Poison in its foreboding purplish bottle and Giorgio in its yellow-striped kitsch shared this bug spray note: an aroma which had become so popular through the extensive usage of the above perfumes back then that manufacturers of instecticides in a reverse compliment (cheapening the formula) replicated in their...yes, you guessed it, bug sprays! The mental pathway wasn't difficult to lay and forever since bug spray ~and the perfumes that echo it~ have that characteristic sharp, needles-up-the-nose, bitter and strangely floral-from-outer-space tonality which has its fans and its detractors. The mental association isn't a personal favourite for reasons of overdosing on insecticides one memorable tropically-latituded summer in Bali many years ago, so although I admire that kind of fragrances intellectually it isn't something I am comfortable with wearing too often. Still in Michelle that bug spray accord is tempered and tamer, making it friendlier.

If by mentioning tuberose you cast your mind to the timeless Fracas by Piguet with its beautiful yet at the same time coloratura expansive and creamy night blossom, Tubéreuse Criminelle by Lutens with its mentholated, polished soie sauvage or Carnal Flower by F.Malle with its coconut and eycalyptus-ladden tropical ambience, then think again: Balenciaga's forgotten vintage extrait Michelle is none of those things and is a throwback to another era. Surprisingly, Michelle is also sprinkled with a pinch of spice, not listed, a cinnamon-like effect which somehow provides a sweet facet along with the vanilla, yet reinforces the bloody, metallic facets of the tuberose and the wet earthiness of the rose in tandem with moss. It wears beautifully in the heat and eases itself into the cooler days of approaching autumn.

The vintage extrait de parfum which is the concentration in my possession (in the design on the right) is extremely long-lasting and smooth, while the Eau de Toilette (circulating in the classic design of Balenciaga fragrances depicted here) smells about the same, but with a radiance and expansion which could become too much too soon in my opinion.

Notes for Balenciaga Michelle:
Top: Aldehydes, gardenia, green notes, coconut, peach
Heart: Carnation, tuberose, iris, orchid, jasmine, yalng ylang, rose
Base: Sandalwood, oakmoss, musk, benzoin, vanilla, vetiver

Michelle is discontinued, but makes sporadic appearences on Ebay and etailers. The Balenciaga house is currently part of the Gucci Group (part of Pineault Printemps Redoute). Popular again thanks to the success of the "Motorcycle bag" and Nicolas Ghesquiere design and is set to produce a new fragrance under the aegis of Coty fronted by Charlotte Gainsbourg, which questions the possibility of ever resurrecting Michelle.

Related reading on Perfume Shrine: Vintage perfumes, Fragrance history

Pic of vintage coat design by Cristobal Balenciaga via pairofchairs.wordpress.com and of Michelle flacon via ecrater.com

Wednesday, October 29, 2008

Liu by Guerlain: fragrance review (vintage vs re-issue)

The Princess Turandot presents her first riddle: "What is born each night and dies each dawn?" Prince Calàf correctly replies "Hope." Unnerved, she presents her second riddle: "What flickers red and warm like a flame, but is not fire?" He thinks a bit: "Blood". Turandot is shaken and angry so she presents her third riddle: "What is like ice, but burns like fire?" He suddenly cries out victoriously and announces "Turandot!"

Guerlain has often been inspired by dramatic stories and exotic places in the onomastics of their illustrious line and Liù takes its pride of place among them.

Named after the heroine Liù in Puccini's opera Turandot, it's inspired by the juxtaposition of two different characters who make a jarring comparison: Princess Turandot is cold and cruel, elegant but prideful, not believing in love yet finally conquered by it; her maid Liù on the other hand is kind, pitiful and gentle but also passionate, and although she has true love in her heart for her lord, Prince Calàf, she willingly sacrifices herself for the sake of it. Connected by a man, they provide a stunning portrait of antithetical pieces of the same puzzle ~a women's heart and the passions that rock it. That duality of woman must have been a never-ending source of inspiration for Guerlain, as it is reprised in another fragrance: the 1979 fiery Nahéma (sisters with her opposite Mahané) from the 1001 Nights tale.

Originally created in 1929 by Jacques Guerlain, Liù is a floral aldehydic of tasteful elegance and delicately sensual seduction that puzzles with its impersonating skills. In many ways it acts as the mirror image of the world-famous No.5 by Chanel, but with an added sheen of warm comfort and minus some of the sexpot wiles of the latter. One story wants it to have been created for Rose Fitzerald Kennedy who loved the smell of Chanel's No.5, yet considered wearing it an anathema due to her husband having had an affair with Gabrielle Chanel (although it's his affair with Gloria Swanson during his Hollywood reign between 1926-1929 that is documented). Therefore Guerlain was contacted and they made a fragrance inspired by her prefered scent especially for her. The fact is that Rose kept her favourite fragrance a secret all her life; it was only after her death that it was revealed it was her signature scent. Another story , perhaps more plausible and comparable to that of Chant d’Arômes, has Jacques Guerlain furious at his wife liking and wearing the fragrance of the rival house, Chanel No.5, prompting him in hopes of diverting her from wearing the products of his competitors to create his own interpretation of aldehydes over white flowers on a musky base ~Liù, poured inside an Art-Deco bottle, a masterpiece of geometric artistry, tucked in a box that echoed the architectural design of the bottle.

Whichever of those versions is correct, the fact remains that the two perfumes smell remarkably close, especially in their initial stages. The aldehydes that provide that tingling and soapy/waxy impression are immediately apparent along with a very fresh bergamot and citrusy overture. The fragrance then segues into plush decedent jasmine of an intense femininity. Once it settles on skin however, Liù becomes its own. Musk or sandalwood are not unmistakably obvious as they are in No.5. Rose is very much woven into the fabric of the scent to peak out just enough; it only hints at the velours, sensuously powdery quality which is intensified through the iris and vanillic notes. This version of powdery is detached from the talcum-animalic-vanilla of vintage Shalimar and is more reminiscent of a gentle lady who has freshly powdered her nose to enjoy an afternoon tea with other ladies in the Club, surrounded by bushes in fragrant bloom. There is also the hint of some dried fruit, a whisper in the wind, the culinary touch that is so ingrained in the Guerlain tradition. The Guerlinade base reveals subtly earthy iris, comforting tonka bean and resinous vanilla, finishing it off in a soft-focus lens style that is timelessly elegant while at the same time very much in tempo with the era when aldehydic florals reigned: the 1950s and 1960s. The whole is even close to another Jacques Guerlain creation of the 1930s, Véga, but it's less woody or unconventionaly feminine than the latter.

In the vintage extrait de parfum concentration I have deliciously melding on my skin the darkish vanilla softens the aldehydes, rendering it quite sultry and not too sweet or soapy. Once upon a time, even a luxurious Hair Oil existed which must have been the dream of many a long-tressed lady such as myself and I would love to have been able to try it. In the Eau de Toilette on the other hand the aldehydes are more pronounced, making it more diffusive. In the current Eau de Parfum the similarity with the newer batches of Chanel No.5 are very evident, accounting for a soapy nuance which projects and lasts very well.

Notes for Liù:
Top: aldehydes, bergamot, neroli
Heart: jasmine, May rose, iris
Base: woody notes, vanilla, amber

Liù was discontinued after Rose Kennedy's death and briefly reissued in 2005 by Jean Paul Guerlain in the Eau de Toilette concentration only, and then discontinued again with no explanation. Soon afterwards however it entered Les Parisiennes line, the exclusive line-up at Boutique Guerlain, in Eau de Parfum concentration and double the price, where it remains to this day (hopefully for good!). The re-issue of Liù in Eau de Parfum can be found in the big bee bottles at the Guerlain boutiques and at Bergdorf Goodman. The vintage parfum makes sporadic appearences on Ebay.