Jo Malone Honeysuckle & Davana: fragrance review

Jo Malone's latest fragrance launch Honeysuckle & Davana is advertised as a happy smell and it most definitely is a happy smell. One that feels like fortunate news spreading through the peals of countryside church bells into the distance; smiles in a nursery when the little one first stretches his/her facial muscles into that endearing way that has caretakers have their heart aflutter; or of long lost friends meeting at a long awaited rendez-vous. The brand's choice to illustrate the fragrance with the girl with the canary is spot on, even if canaries do not dot the English countryside by any stretch of the imagination.

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Honeysuckle & Davana is quite fresh and honeyed at the same time, and at that intriguing intersection between warm and cool which I find very alluring. There is an oscillating ribbon of white florals right in the middle of the scent, further cementing that freshness which blooms when the scent is sprayed liberally. This is a fragrance that reveals facets when used in excess, much like their previous Mimosa & Cardamom needs the bigger spray rather than the applying with a small wand on skin testing technique to fully reveal its pretty message. Compared with that other honeysuckle fragrance in the Jo Malone catalogue, Honeysuckle & Jasmine (1999), which used to be quite charming in its naturalistic impression of a fragrant garden at dusk somewhere south, the newer edition is more upbeat, with interesting facets that differentiate it from the white florals that are so screechingly taking over perfume counters as the "immediate femininity" index when the whole isn't hoarding under tons of syrupy sweetness...

In the drydown of Honeysuckle & Davana, we come up with a mix of an earthy note that might be attributed to Evernyl, but which is also mixed with clean, starched white musks (and which provides the very tenacious part, however those who are anosmic to some musks might find this undetectable, so try before you buy).

The madness of good ol' times...

Back when I bought almost each and every one Serge Lutens fragrance launch.
I also have a few bell jars (subsequent post about those) and 2 spare bottles of Fleurs d'Οranger in the bathroom for sustenance in times of need. :)

Now let me see: What shall I wear?

photograph copyright by Elena Vosnaki, from my own fragrance collection

A Merry, Merry Christmas...

To all my PerfumeShrine readers, who still check the page regularly, even if they do not comment, may this be your most lovely Christmas yet! May the world be at peace if possible, and may people at large feel content.


Music: O come, o come Emanuel from The Piano Guys.

In Memoriam: Vero Kern

It was with a sad heart (and some surprise) I learned of Vero Kern's passing.
It was an honor communicating with her, getting to know her kind nature, and experiencing her lovely fragrances, which proved beyond doubt that one can change course in life at any age. She will be missed.

And we will be longing for her creations, I bet, in the years to come. May someone pick up the line after her, to commemorate her talent and her generosity of spirit.

Caron Parfum Sacre Intense eau de parfum: fragrance review

Back when I was a teenager I developed a strong belief that "real" perfume was supposed to harken to its oriental roots and smell of the East; or at least what my west-laden eyes of the mind imagined a mythical East to be like. Parfum Sacre (sacred perfume, the quintessential notion of eastern scent), launched in 1991, at the cusp of the transition into the blander part of mainstream perfumery after a clashing cacophony of too many loud perfumes worn all together in the 1980s, and it sort of flopped commercially. But it was such a good execution that they have kept it. And when the Parfum Sacre Intense version rolled over by Parfums Caron in 2010 I admit I was greatly intrigued.

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There was a 1925 fragrance called Mystikum, by perfume Scherk, tagged "the mystery of flowers" of all things, and accompanied by a full range of body products in the coming years, but surely the name would fit Caron's perfume perfectly as well.

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I own a quite large decant of Caron's Parfum Sacre Intense (more like a purse spray), and I should quickly upgrade to a full bottle, but each time I use it I feel like a goddess on a pedestal, receiving rites of peppery spices and rosy sacrifices upon a sacrificial altar, while myrrh fills the atmosphere with the solemnity of religion. The myrrh is especially warm, bittersweet, with no powdery after-effects, so it doesn't project as "clean" or "groomed" rather than sombre and liturgical, but it's the alliance of spicy rose with musk which makes the real message of devotion to a higher being. For once, rose sheds its prim guise and reveals a throbbing heart full of thorns.

I dig this kind of ritual and therefore Parfum Sacre Intense aims for the sweet spot. Touchée.

I just wish they hadn't changed the bottle, from the glorious deep purple with the peppercorns into the blander columnar ones they have used when revamping the line a couple of years ago...

Hermes Hiris: fragrance review

Once upon a time, concubines in the Far East were fed animal musk, so that their bodies would sweat in sweet fragrance. Nowadays they feed themselves angelica roots, boiled carrots, and almond baked in tin foil, with the tin foil intact. They spray themselves absent-mindedly with an obsolete hairspray that engulfs them in musk, sending electrical sparks like a loose train set on liquid tracks, running in the storm to nobody knows where. They work under azure skies which never betray the greyness of their gaze. They dream of "Et la lune descent sur le temple qui fut". Some girls nowadays are fed Hiris by Hermès...

Hiris: from the flower to the fragrance, the modern and refined mindset of a unique soliflore, all devoted to the splendor of the iris. A perfume of emotion and subtlety conceived by perfumer Olivia de Giacobetti in 1999, it expresses its charm with an infinite delicacy; sometimes floral, sometimes powdery or plant-like, always one of the olfactory wonders of nature.

The quintessential dry powder scent, Hiris by Hermès is the yardstick against which orris scents can be measured in a sweetness to dryness climax; this one is set on ultra-dry. For sheer uniqueness it could only be compared to the cold melancholia of Iris Silver Mist by Serge Lutens, but it's less gloomy, less sombre, warming a bit through the skin-like ambrette seed. It's for INFP types for sure.
And it falls naturally into the pattern set out by Hermès, a house that caters to an effortless sensibility of quiet sensuousness, of subtle sexiness, of refined intellectuality. A precious keepsake.

Fragrance notes for Hermès Hiris:
Top Notes
Iris, Coriander, Carrot
Heart Notes
Iris, Neroli, Rose, Hay
Base notes
Honey, Almond wood, Vanilla, Cedarwood, Ambrette seed

NB. The older bottles are in blue frosted glass packaged in an orange carton. The newer ones are in a transparent glass bottle with gold cap and a blue label, packaged in an orange and blue carton.