After bootylicious star Beyonce with her Heat, another celebrity (albeit famous for less creative endeavours) debuts her eponymous celebrity fragrance (will there be no end?), named after her: Kim Kardashian and developed by Lighthouse Beauty. Between that and Carl's Jr salads commercials, the starlet famous for her Keeping up with the Kardashians participation hasn't been idle.
The advertisment has the booylicious Kim dressed in vintage pink lingerie (the push-up bra being a little too modern maybe) and a marabou coat, swinging from a circle-trapeze burlesque-style. I personally think her best feature (her warm softness) is traded for some "hardened" glam-shot in which her face appears a little too austere, perhaps in an effort to lend some retro high-cheekbones and dark-lips-on-white-canvas drama. The trapeze mirrors the smoky bottle ~with some necessary pink on the neck, let's not forget~ bearing her initials; one K mirrored-into the other like the two faces of Janus. On a sidenote, funny how all the Kardashian sisters have names starting with a K! It would be hard to position themselves if they all started producing their own fragrances, but anyway. Kim Kardashian the fragrance could have been a bootichouli: After all, who better nowadays than realistically curvaceous women to bring back those unabashedly feminine compositions. But no, it will be a white floral instead (yawn?) with a sensual soft base, encompassing jasmine, tuberose and gardenia at the heart and tonka bean coupled with sandalwood for the base. Sounds rather nice, if a little "been there, done that", no? Prices will start from super-affordable $16 for a 0.33-oz. rollerball and up to $65 for a 3.4-oz. spray bottle. The Kim Kardashian fragrance debuts in February, exclusively at Sephora.
The American giant, Gap, is presenting their new fragrance, Close. Designed by Patrick Robinson of Gap, Givaudan perfumery and the Interparfums group, Close is a casual fragrance which aims to be "sexy, sensual and pretty". Close to your object of affection? Possibly. Notes for Gap Close include almond blossom and salty hesperides for the top, freesia, jasmine, daphne and stephanotis for the heart, alongside sandalwood, musk and a touch of vanilla for the warmer, sensual base. I admit it doesn't sound half-bad, although of course a list of notes is usually nothing to depend on.
The packaging reprises the egg-shaped tactile feeling which helped make Agent Provocateur a success, but in white and with a brushed silvery cap, to evoke "a pure sensuality and modern simplicity".
Aiming at the casual customer who scent-shops alongside their clothes, Close is positioned at the lower end of the market: 24 euros for 100 ml, 17 euros for 50 ml and 6 euros for 10 ml at Sephora and the Gap boutiques network starting January 19th.
Diptyque lends its image and its expertise to the association (RED) for its new creation. Light and creamy Vanilla Rooibos is born of an encounter between dual-faceted African rooibos tea. A fragrance with particular force and the enchanting scent of grilled amber. Herbaceous fragrance notes and tobacco, evoking that particular part of the world. Then, with voluptuousness, a powdered and fleshy note comes to finish the olfactory journey. Diptyque contributes 4 euros for each candle sold to support and help (RED) in its fight against viral diseases in Africa. (RED) is not charity.(RED) is not cause. (RED) is not theory. (RED) is the simple idea of transforming our acts of consumption in a joint force to help those in need. (RED) reconciles the pleasure of buying an object of desire in a affirmative action. In only 2 years, people have opted to buy (RED) products have positively influenced the lives of 2.5 million Africans!
Nowhere is the power of "noir" (aka black) more intense than in the sublime and surreal cosmos of perfumes: From modern creations such as Bulgari's Jasmin Noir and Black or Tom Ford's Black Orchidand even Black Violet to Ormonde Jayne's Orris Noir and Yves Rocher's Iris Noir, all the way through to vintage gems such as the murky Narcisse Noir by Caron, or the kaleidoscopic Or Noir by Pascal Morabito, with a detour at niche "founder" Serge Lutens via his Datura Noir, everything is painted in black a la Rolling Stones. And who can forget the enigmatically legendary Nombre Noir by Shiseido and its white heat?
Even more vague and promising in intonation than the above (which mostly recall shady, unusual hybrids of flowers with few exceptions) are those which are sartorially-inspired (Lutens has Fourreau Noirbut also Serge Noire, both evoking fabrics and items of clothing; Guerlain La Petite Robe Noire, while Avon has Little Black Dress, where black is synonymous to pared elegance regardless of the discombobulating scent: the mere mention of the name promises Hepburn-like pizazz!). The darkening of ingredients is also popular: The slightly scorched effect of Noir Epices by Michel Rounditska for the F.Malle line, the indie Ambre Noirby Sonoma Scent Studio... Black Sun by Salvador Dali sounds even more surreal than intended, the world of alchemy eclipsed into Schwarze Sonne/Sonnenrad neopaganism purpoting radical change: apparently not so, in perfume terms! Crystal Noir by Versace is reminiscent of jet-bead jewellery, the par excellence mourning jewellery in the Victorian Era, a direction that the designer house considers too far back to be referenced by the youthful audience to which they aspire. Sometimes "noir" can even stand alone, stolid, full of fortitude and mystery, like a promised (but rarely delivered) olfactory Healthcliff: Lacroix Noir for men, Avon's Noir for men...Othertimes, it paints a heroic symbol with the wide brush of machismo: Drakkar Noir, how can we forget you? Perhaps the more literal interpretation of Lalique's Encre Noire(black ink) is more elegant onomastically. And the trend gets carried in excess as in ~fittingly named~ Black XS by Paco Rabanne, The Wrong Man obviously for dark regressions out of the past.
The recent trend of naming perfumes "Black this" and "Noir that" (or as Tania Sanchez wittingly calls Black Thingamajig) has really gained momentum with hundreds of fragrances containing one or the other denominator in their very name. After testing the majority of them with apprehension as to their perceived fangliness, I have come to believe it's pure marketese to denote something that is the antithesis of "fresh", "light", "inoffensive", "cookie-cutter". Admittedly, people have always wanted to be the opposite of the last two adjectives, even if they don't have one iota of dangerousness, sensuousness or mystery in their bones. Call it the call of the wild, the desire to be what they cannot be in their ordinary lives, call it escapism: Which I realise all perfume really boils down to! It's simply irresistible, it's like watching an old film-noir and fantasizing about being the wicked femme fatale (Who is usually coincidentally dressed in black, have you seen any in pink polkadots and yellow ribbons in her hair?). "The femme fatale provokes a kind of temporary insanity in the protagonist, which partially absolves him from responsibility for his actions. It is as though she happens to him, like a natural force". [quote] Ayala Moriel, an indie perfumer from Canada, has created a glorious (and mysterious-smelling) patchouli confection in her suitably named Film Noir. The crossfire of "good girl vs. bad girl" is a dichotomy prevalent in many cultures, none more pointedly so than the American one, with a plethora of "rules" to adhere to in order to belong to one and not the other, personal fragrance being the outward manifestation of an inward inclination. Nuit Noire by Mona di Orio assumes a very intimate aura (of yes, rather forbidden bodily zones) to talk about the dangers of a black night ~what its name means~ when you'd be more simpatico to some experimenting in Bitter Moon/Lunes de Fiel , Pascal-Bruckner-style. The decade of "clean" (the 90s) with its AIDS hysteria ~when perfumes seemed to serve as a virtual chastity-belt~ is over and thankfully most of the ozonics and aqueous scents are left in a lonely place.
Somehow I think the reference was cinematic to begin with, including the very first scents onomatized with this dark epithet. Marcel L'Herbier's Le Parfum de la Dame en Noir from 1931 based on Gaston Leroux's older novel of the same name conveniently tied the two in an inextricable knot. Narcisse Noir by Caron, apart from Sunset Boulevard and its dramatic sensuality, makes me think of vampy Theda Bara, arguably not the person you'd imagine baking you an apple-pie and preparing the kids for school in the morning; assuming she were actually awake in the morning! Which nicely brings me to the current pop mania for vampires and creatures of the night, via Stephanie Meyer's Twilight and its tremendous marketability: Are dark-named fragrances another manifestation of a youth's desire for safe "danger" and repressed sexuality, as explored via boyish vampire teens who have sharper teeth than other body parts? It's murder, my sweet, not sex!
Arguably black has always been laced with magical qualities too, the sense of inherent danger, the cabbalistic and alchemical symbols tied to its shaded enigma: enter the most representative olfactory case of them all, Magie Noireby Lancome. Apparently in an era where witches are fortunately not burned to the stick with gusto until they're well-done, perfumers show a hankering for well-done renditions instead of dark, earthy and twilight-shaded compositions that lurk within shaded forests, the dark corner and the nighmare alley.
But the obsession with darkness also has to do with fashion and visual cues: Black is not a colour, optically-speaking: It's the absence of colour! This gives it a sort of power that all other colours lack (a comparable case with white but different connotations). Mediterranean cultures who have embraced it because it makes such a strartling constrast with the bright sun knew a thing or two: Picture the lace-headscarf of the Spanish consorts over red blooms, the black cloth of Sicilian and Greekwidows against the white-painted little houses. It's not an accident that nidjas are dressed in black, that we have the little black dress (the little red one is a whole different matter), that goths like black, that black has an aura of the occult and the forbidden, even the subversive or the fatal (black death, black metal, black sabbath, black widow...).
I have a personal theory to offer on that matter as well: black is the colour of anonimity! Put someone in black and they mingle right in. "Men in black", remember? The ones supposed to come out of nowehere and zap your memories of close encounters of the third kind out of your system. You can't do that in -say- jade or canary yellow! Therefore black in a genius transition from the visual to the olfactory & the mnemonic allows both the concept of a perfume to be easier to graft on one's self and for one's personality (assuming they have one to begin with) to shine through; allowing the better elements to slowly unveil themselves.
Whether I associate the word "noir" with specific perfumery notes? Not really! Several recent, modern "noir" and "black" fragrances ironically smell exactly "light, fresh, inoffensive, cookie-cutter", so....no. Other people however mention oud, patchouli, resin, smoke, tobacco, incense. It's a your mileage may vary, in any case, not one of "all cats are black in the night".
So what does "noir" signify for you in terms of smell?
And a Game: He or She who recognises all the titles of film-noirshidden in the text will win a decant off my vintage collection! (hint: they're 10 in total and they're all Google-able)
pics of The Killers and The Narrow Margin via sbccfilmreviews.com, kitsune.noir.blogimages, dvdbeaver.com
A sky filled with stars is our love, having no beginning and no end. A sky always bright, a sky filled with stars, which has a thousand summers kept in our soul...
Clip from the 1965 Greek film Rendez-vous in the air!, Giannis Voyiatzis singing to Martha Karagianni. Translation of lyrics by the author.
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After bootylicious star Beyonce with her Heat, another celebrity (albeit famous for less creative endeavours) debuts her eponymous celebrity fragrance (will there be no end?), named after her: Kim Kardashian and developed by Lighthouse Beauty. Between that and Carl's Jr salads commercials, the starlet famous for her Keeping up with the Kardashians participation hasn't been idle.
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