Autumn Harvest and Shamhain: The Warmth of the Season

Late autumn is a sure signal of embracing the joys of the hearth to whom I'm not at all averse. Before the temperatures demand lightening the fireplace with a proper, roaring log fire (it's not too cold where I am yet, in fact it's unusually warm this year), lightening scented candles makes for a cozy ambience in res media. Diptyque's Maquis and Figuier candles, preferably lit together to throw their combined scent, is probably the most nostalgic scent for me personally, reminiscent as it is of the aroma of the Mediterranean countryside, filled with the burnished copper of immortelle, the sapling of the fig tree and its bittersweet smelling leaves slowly decaying on the moistened soil. And oranges, lots of oranges...

photo, borrowed, credit: Nik Sharma A Brown Table via

Some of the fragrances I long to wear again this month are as follows:

Une Fleur de Cassie (Éditions des Parfums Frédéric Malle)

It didn't take me a trip to fragrance capital, Grasse, to appreciate the exquisite technique showcasing every nook and cranny of the mimosa/cassie essences, but that didn't do any harm either! Une Fleur de Cassie has the right amount of "dirty" gusset to hint at coarse carnality (cassie absolute is notoriously musky, jasmine absolute is indolic) while at the same time remaining a gorgeous floral (hints of carnation and rose absolute), smudging its odds and ends into almost an oriental (sandalwood, vanillic fond)

Like This (Etat Libre d'Orange created in collaboration with Tilda Swinton) 

A natural autumnal option since it features actual notes of pumpkin, gingerbread spices, everlasting flower (immortelle), warm woody notes and the scent of damp, mulch-rich earth (in the very best way). Mmmm, probably a cult gourmand since contrary to other gourmand fragrances heavy on the foody aspects this harvest scent has perfumistas flocking to it.

Black Orchid (Tom Ford)

Forget every blurb you read about how the perfume was developed according to Tom's specifications it should smell "like a man's crotch." (Glurp! I know you wish you hadn't heard of that. Unless you're playing for the other team, in which case grab this to try out.) Thankfully, this truffle and flowers on a vanilla base floriental doesn't smell as crude as that might make it sound. But it's undeniably sexy all the same, and cozy too in its own way.

Santal Blush (Tom Ford)

A gorgeous, clean, dry sandalwood fragrance with an immediate message of sensuousness and no boozy aftertaste; beautiful and wearable, as tactile as smooth silk cushions. Unisex fare!

Molecule 01 (Escentric Molecules)

If you want to give the impression you don't wear anything (play them low and reap them high) this mono-molecule fragrance (it's full of just aromachemical Iso-E Super) at an optimum concentration will trick your date into believing it's just your skin smelling that good. Totally abstract, can't place it, can't put a finger on it, fuzzy, buzzy, delicious trail...

L'Orpheline (Serge Lutens)

This "orphaned girl" is such a peculiarly unisex blend that I dare anyone to smell it and attribute it to girls. Its slightly body odor-ish intimacy is kinda addictive; I wore intensely when it came out with no diminished enjoyment for its austere woods, intense musks, hint of herbal bitters and wink of sweet spice. I put it aside for a while but need to bring it out again. A bit of cozy dirt can be good for the soul!

La Myrrhe (Serge Lutens)

Myrrh gum is part of ecclesiastical incense alongside frankincense for millennia. You would expect a true blue oriental going by the name, right? Lutens infuses the bitter ambience of myrrh with candied mandarin rind and citrusy aldehydes which bring this on the upper plane of an airy aldehydic. Somehow it wears lightly but solemnly too (just like the season isn't yet dead cold, right?) and it resembles nothing else on the market. Crisp days bring La Myrrhe's attributes to the fore and it remains amongst my most precious possessions.

Antaeus (Chanel)

A masculine in my rotation and a powerfully 1980s at that, bringing the era back as surely as quarterback shoulder pads, Doc Martins and "mullet" hairstyles. Who said fall isn't about nostalgia? The beeswax leathery honeyed carnality is palpable. I consider it among my sexiest fall fragrances and feedback suggests I'm not delusional…

Hypnotic Poison (Christian Dior)

I'm cheating with this one, as I actually use the body lotion instead of the eau de parfum or eau de toilette versions. Still the fetish-y red, poisoined apple creates as much intrigue with its looks as it does with its scent. Fairy tales and original sin mix and testimonies say it works on guys like a magical charm. The bitter almond folded into vanilla cream radiates with the sensuality of musk and jasmine.

And for an interesting (a ha!) juxtaposition with what I was anticipating of wearing last year approaching the beginning of fall, here is the link to last year's autumn fragrances picks. And yet another list of autumn perfumes, divided into trickesters and treaters,  in the spirit of Halloween and Shamhain. For those celebrating Dia de los Muertos, here is a recipe for kolyva dessert, the traditional offering (spondee) to the dead in my culture.


Here's to a lovely rest of the fall season and a beautiful winter ahead!
Let me know which are your favorite or most worn fragrances this season in the comments.

Breaking the Cellophane on a New Bottle of Robert Piguet Bandit

Just some photos I took upon opening a third bottle of Robert Piguet's Bandit perfume. One of my favorites as it transpires.

photo copyright Elena Vosnaki

It wouldn't seem possible for such a forceful fragrance as Bandit, not to mention a collection of hundreds of scent, but yes, the two bottles on the left have been enjoyably drained to their last dregs. The one on the right is the latest one, the "new"one (bought a few years back as a back-up, please note).

all photos by Elena Vosnaki

Doesn't it look spanking new and cute? I can't wait to start wearing it again! Usually I wear it in the summer, but I think I'm missing out on this tough stuff during the winter.

There is a difference in the cap between the former batch and the batch I just opened (bought a few years ago as a back-up, as mentioned above). The older one, on the right, has the initials etched on the cap. The newer one is smooth and sleek. Also, please note the older one is polygonal in layout, while the newer one is round all around. Other than that no differences on the bottle design itself. 

This is the "certified" original formula, as assured by Givaudan. Some bottles bear this certification in further proof of the company's adherence to excellence.
Bandit by Robert Piguet is a marvel from 1944 coming alive on the skin in 2018. Priceless. 

All photos copyright by Elena Vosnaki

Thierry Mugler Angel: fragrance review

It's hard to bypass Angel by Thierry Mugler in the greater scheme of perfumery's historical progress, as it is truly seminal, a footprint on the path of perfumery as large as the Yeti's.
Olivier Cresp, its perfumer, is as much to credit with its innovation, as is its artistic director at Clarins (the Group that holds the licence for parfums Mugler) Vera Strubi, who envisioned the fragrance as a cult modern classic, and Jacques Courtin, president at Clarins, who insisted on developing the product first and only then seeing to its marketing plan; clearly an anomaly in contemporary perfume launching.

For Angel, Olivier Cresp and Vera Strubi sought into the identity of Thierry Mugler as a fashion brand and they came up with a fusion of childlike playfulness and iconic, haute couture boldness. On the one hand, the cotton candy and sawdust of the fun fair. On the other, the patchouli darkness of a handsome man in drag. The note of ethylmaltol which makes the cotton candy note in Angel, and which spawned like crazy, to the effect of saturating contemporary best-sellers with bucketfuls of it, was until 1992 fairly unused. Historically speaking it had been introduced in Vanilia by L'Artisan Parfumeur back when Jean Laporte directed the niche brand he founded in 1978, but its ice-cream cone girlishness was deemed too cute for proper perfumes; this was the time when perfumes roared with the bombastic spiciness of things like YSL Opium perfume and Estee Lauder Cinnabar.

Olivier Cresp took this discarded idea and flanked it with red berries, a dubious whiff of blackcurrant on top (recalling the success of The Body Shop's Dewberry) and the caramel softness of vanilla bringing out a sort of praline in the facets of natural patchouli oil.

The effect was stunning; warm and cuddly but also chocolate-y and dark, and the formula was painted blue, in mocking defiance of every possible evocation of feminine perfume, which until then was always some shade of hay or gold. Angel became le monstre sacré to dethrone Chanel No.5 in France and the rest is, as they say, history.

Monsieur Cresp, your place in the Pantheon is reserved, thank you very much.

Perfume as a Personal Story: The Historical Beginnings

The heirs of the aristocratic perfume tradition of post-Middle-Ages Europe were precursors, innovators, pioneers who helped establish modern perfumery as we came to know it, but who also carved out a path for the following of that artistic and commercial sector, drawing crowds to their boutiques and their wares in an unprecedented way. This last bit however isn't far removed from the enthralled reception that the modern niche perfume consumer bestows on today's fragrance celebrities, such as Serge Lutens, Frédéric Malle, Francis Kurkdjian or Jean Claude Ellena, to name but a few.

via

A La Corbeille de Fleurs, Houbigant's boutique situated since the late 18th century in the then-uncelebrated Faubourg Saint-Honoré, helps make the spot le dernier cri among wealthy bourgeois who shop a few decades later for his trendy perfumes, such as Fougère Royale, composed by acclaimed perfumer Paul Parquet. Le Trèfle Incarnat for L.T.Piver was famously created by head Jacques Rouché and nose Pierre Aremingeat under the direction of chemist Georges Drazen of the Ecole Polytechnique; it soon became a sensation that had tongues wagging on the house that issued it.

Les Salons de Palais Royal by Serge Lutens in Paris, the abode of the Lutensian opus, can be said to be today's modern version, a Mecca of innovative compositions which changed the scenery for everyone following in their niche steps. The perfume-smelling booths at the Frédéric Malle boutiques across two continents are testament to the desire to dedicate time and energy to selecting perfume, but it is the frames with perfumers' portraits on the walls which remind us that authorship is the core of this brand who first dared make the connection between éditeur (as in Editions de Parfums) and auteur (as in cinema).

Some creators, like the Guerlains, have been immersed in the trade since they were in diapers; Pierre-François Pascal Guerlain saw to it that he created a dynasty of perfumers and perfume directors which successfully survives to our days as Guerlain. Some others however were self-made wonders. François Coty is an emblematic figure in that regard, none the less because he lent an attentive ear to the public itself; heeding their needs, their desires, their suggestions with the perspicacity that is the mark of a true genius. But he also imposed his own ideas, drawing from forgotten relics (his iconic Coty Chypre perfume drew on the ancient cypriot fragrances that had trickled into Europe in the form of cosmetics) or by offering novel suggestions (such as L'Origan, what can be argued to be the first "floriental" perfume).

His "school" taught a great many scrappy upstarts, giving them the confidence to venture where others had faltered, until Coty's own unfortunate demise which risked leaving that gigantic business headless. Luckily for Coty perfumery, François Coty's divorced wife had a brother-in-law, Philippe Cotnareanu, who was immersed in the business. Cotnareanu changed his name to Philip Cortney and under that pseudonym took rein of the colossal portfolio, until 1963 when Coty and Coty International were eventually sold to Chas. Pfizer & Co. for $26 million. But it is Coty's success in the perfume world which made it possible for everyone else in the beginning of the 20th century, from Russian émigré Ernest Beaux for the fledging Chanel fashion "griffe" to Ernest Daltroff at Caron, or for Alméras who first took the creative reins chez Poiret and then composed a pleiad of 1930s fragrance masterpieces for Jean Patou.

What unites all those past greats is the vision of perfume as a personalized story, a momentous revelation: fragrances created for specific circumstances, for an occasion, a happy day, for a woman (a woman, please note, and not the woman). This approach implied a directed and directive concept, providing the public with a product on which it was not consulted first (no marketing focus groups voting on perfume!) but which didn't disregard it either. A path which assured the consumer that what was offered to them was well devised for them, a product of artistry suggestive to the powers of seduction, but also heeding to a time signpost, to cultural bearings of the time, transforming them and popularizing them into trends: a best-selling book, like La Bataille influencing the creation of Guerlain Mitsouko, a trend such as Les Ballets Russes ushering orientalia into European fashions and the arts, you name it, all influenced the creators into a fertile dialogue with their time and age.