Gucci Memoire d'Une Odeur: fragrance review

A comrade of mine in fragrance said, taking the 2019 fragrance launches in retrospect, "In today’s world, chamomile will never be a major perfume trend, unless this world does a 180 degree turn. It’s not that its extracts smell bad: it’s the mythology that comes with it. The most successful things in modern perfumery are sensual — white flowers, sweet stuff. Chamomile, with its tea and eczema cream connotations, is about as sensual as baby's colic. So, no sex in chamomile, but a lot of other things — calm, serenity, memories (hence the name of Gucci’s perfume.) Memories of that field behind Grandma’s house, of that distant time someone special took such good care of you." She was talking about Gucci Mémoire d’une Odeur, i.e. memory of a smell.

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The fragrance was an innovation based on a concept by the new creative director at Gucci, Alessandro Michele, whom we have to thank for the innovative outlook that gave us recently niche-quality smelling Gucci Guilty Absolute for men and the worthwhile Gucci Bloom collection of scents.

 “Everything comes from my obsession with scents: my memory is primarily olfactive so, for me, my sense of smell is my memory. I thought that, deep down, perfume is that thing that even with your eyes closed, brings you to a precise moment in space and time. When we began to work on Gucci Mémoire d’une Odeur, I tried to imagine the recollection of a scent that couldn’t easily be identified; a hybrid scent that resembles memory as much as possible”..

Gucci Mémoire d’une Odeur is an elixir that transcends gender by its individuality, to establish a new olfactive family, Mineral Aromatic. The transcendent accord features unexpected and enigmatic ingredients, and is defined by a note of Roman chamomile.
Alessandro Michele envisioned this particular flower inside the scent, blended by master perfumer Alberto Morillas.

The famous perfumer mentioned upon launching that ”the musky mineral accord is the keystone of the fragrance: it links all the other olfactive elements together with pure softness. I had to think quite carefully about why Alessandro chose chamomile. When I started to work with the scent of chamomile itself, then I understood. “No one had done it before. Chamomile is known all over the world. Everyone has smelt it at some point, but as a dream, a memory of childhood, something timeless, and never in a fragrance. This flower is much underestimated and is a plant with an exceptional olfactive signature.”

 I'm thinking that the world has since indeed done a 180 degree turn, nothing is the same anymore, and the feeling of someone taking good care of us is such a precious, precious thought that Gucci's Memoire d'une Odeur has become sort of an amulet against evil. Its softly musky, clean trail is a promise of a happy ending in a tangled bedtime story.

Memoire d'une Odeur by Gucci is a special breed apart, even among modern fragrances. A most refined, botanical take on the clean whisper of a scent of woods and chamomile that can be so popular for discreet company. The scent is best retained on fabric (and paper); it tends to seemingly vanish on the skin in a short time which prompts complaints from consumers. In reality it's still there, but the big musk molecules are too large to be perceptible by some individuals.

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 The sparse bottle is inspired by a vintage Gucci fragrance bottle discovered by Alessandron Michelle and used for Mémoire d’une Odeur’s bottle. Grooved like a column from an ancient world, the bottle casts a refined silhouette in heavy transparent light green glass, crowned with shiny gold cap. Printed gold foil frames the label, revealing the Gucci logo together with the name of the fragrance.

“The packaging comes from the past, inspired by an old Gucci perfume from the early 90s. I didn’t want the bottle to take on a shape or size that is too feminine or too masculine because the perfume could be very much for women or very much for men,” said Alessandro Michele.

What can we say? We're smitten. 

Gucci Bloom Gocce di Fiori (2019): fragrance review

The interpretation of tuberose floralcy in Gucci Bloom Gocce di Fiori is beautifully lighter, cooler and altogether more stereotypically "pretty" than all the previous editions. Gocce is plural for goccia in Italian, the perfume's name meaning "drops of flowers." And it is!

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The honeysuckle impression is quite pronounced in this flanker fragrance, reminding me of one of my favorite honeysuckle fragrances, the extremely cute Petals by Lili Bermuda Perfumery, a burst of refreshing, nectarous, piercingly sweet blossoms floating in the suspended air of a mild springtime afternoon.

A lighter and fresher variant of the original "vintage" floral perfume, Gocce di Fiori brings an atmosphere of the beginning of spring. Instead of the classical scented composition of the top, middle and base notes, Gocce di Fiori opens with trio of highly concentrated noble ingredients: jasmine bud, natural tuberose absolute and Chinese honeysuckle flower (Rangoon Creeper).



The fragrance circulates as an Eau de Toilette, as compared with Nettare di Fiori which is Eau de Parfum Intense and the original Gucci Bloom which is Eau de Parfum concentration.

Gucci Bloom Nettare di Fiori (2018): fragrance review

"Intensely sensual and feminine, Gucci Bloom Nettare di Fiori celebrates the intimate and authentic character of a woman. Rose and Osmanthus flower resonate in an enigmatic, woodier blend together with the notes of the original Gucci Bloom." This is what the company says about Gucci Bloom Nettare Di Fiori Eau de Parfum Intense (2018) composed by perfumer Alberto Morillas who developed both the original Gucci Bloom and Gucci Bloom Acqua di Fiori.

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Gucci Bloom Nettare Di Fiori is a sensual and darker interpretation of the original, with additional notes of rose, ginger, osmanthus, and patchouli. Don't take that darker claim too seriously, now, though. Gucci Bloom Nettare di Fiori is admittedly not as airy and sentimental as the lighter interpretations of Acqua di Fiori and Gocce di Fiori (for which you will have to read on to find out what it's about), but it's not really sinister, nor dangerous. The concept remains a modern and feminine patchouli-sprinkled scent of white flowers with a good intersection of a prune-peachy base chord with a salty musky hint, that might have been extracted from an older fragrance, but not quite. The balance leans into the contemporary, with only a hint of retro.

Although both tuberose and patchouli share mentholated facets, and the tuberose in the original Gucci Bloom is certainly mentholated on top, not a blanket statement for all tuberose fragrances in the market, in Nettare di Fiori the effect is mild and subdued. There is no risk of alienating anyone with the suspicion of mothballs emanating from your clothes.

Gucci Bloom Acqua di Fiori (2018): fragrance review

The funny thing with tuberose is that in its complex glory it's a blossom that hides an intensely green facet. Its top note is a mentholated cool blast of frosty air to surprise your sinuses, before the meaty and juicy facets reveal themselves. How could this green element be extended from the original Gucci Bloom into a lighter interpretion?

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Alberto Morillas thought about this and confidently injected a galbanum resin top note which braces without cutting. The slightly fruity and at once ammoniac feel of cassis should round out the green in a sour-sweet note which provides the characteristic freshness in Bloom Acqua di Fiori. The fragrance sweetens after the opening, comfortably retreating into the familiar white floral bouquet of the original.

Gucci Bloom Acqua Di Fiori is therefore a greener interpretation of the original.The perfumer took the original delicately spicy-floral composition of tuberose, jasmine and Chinese honeysuckle (Rangoon creeper), the red-flowered vine that premiered in perfume design, and made it fresher by introducing green accords. The drydown is woody and musky, made to convey warmth and depth. It is said to be an invigorating and radiant, lightly green and floral fragrance of highly concentrated ingredients.

Top notes: galbanum leaf, cassis bud
Heart: tuberose, jasmine, rangoon creeper
Base: sandalwood, musk

Estee Lauder Pleasures: fragrance review

Can there be a fragrance "fit for every woman in every season and at every moment"? A long, long time ago, this held true through the notion of the "signature scent", the olfactory equivalent of a calling card. During the 1990s - smack in the middle of which Pleasures was launched by American champion of the cosmetics counter, Estee Lauder - this notion had fallen sideways in favor of the cash-bringing concept of a "fragrance wardrobe".

photo by Edward Steichen via

Much as the hereby contradicting brief therefore foretold of a foible in capturing "the moment", the commercial success of Pleasures was cemented in reinforced concrete. And even the scent somewhat hints at the smell of concrete itself. But let me explain.

A fragrance for every season and every moment, for every woman, is by definition somewhat inoffensive, crowd pleasing, middle of the road. No big ripples, no histrionics, but no soft whisper either; it should be recognizably shared, coveted as the mark of the Aristotelean kalos kagathos. Alberto Morillas is the perfumers' equivalent of kalos kagathos, in the very best sense. Or maybe he's just got the touch of Midas, everything he touches turns to gold; there's that, too.

Pleasures owes its immaculate sheen to a preponderance of aldehydes, those frothy, citrusy, soapy materials handed down from mother's and grandmother's perfume, soaked into copious amounts of musk for clean starchiness that recalls the smell of wet concrete after the rain. It's Morillas's Spanish background (with a hand from Annie Byzantian) that is the rock-bed on which the double notion of clean yet piquant rests, and which forms the reigning glory of Pleasures. The rising peppery warmth (highlighted on an already warm skin) thanks to the unusual but tiny addition of the mesmerizing and pricey karo-karounde extract and the soft pink pepper (i.e. baie rose) add to the more prim aspects to create something that is beyond scrubbed clean, it's handsome.

You can also read about one of the print advertisements of Pleasures seen through an Art History lens on this link.

Cartier Panthere and Cartier La Panthere: fragrance review & comparison of vintage vs. modern edition

Reading there are two editions, one old, one new, by Cartier with the emblematic panther in the name, one is faced with an embarrassment of riches. The good news is that perfumer Mathilde Laurent' style is vibrant, luminous, recognizable in the newer incarnation, La Panthère. The bad news (if that is considered bad in itself) is that it bears no copy-paste relation to the previous fragrance,  Cartier  Panthère, launched in 1986 and circulating well into the 1990s to be discontinued later on.

While the older Panthère is a ripe and fruity-saturated perfume which is recalling a trend of the 1980s and mid-90s (and bears a knowing kinship to the later Champagne/Yvresse by Sophia Grojsman with its fruit-liquor density, I always thought, as well as winking to Dior Poison), the newer La Panthère is a musky floral with a healthy dose of oakmoss felt in the base, which gains life on the skin, rather than on the paper blotter on which it is presented in perfumeries. Indeed to judge it by merely its effect on paper would be to misunderstand it.

I like what I smell on a batch of the older, Alberto Morillas composed Panthère which I received through a split from a bona fide collector. My own small bottle from 1991 was in a ramschackle state, due to it being kept on a dresser for the better part of that decade. The little remaining inside had become a thickish goo which muddled all notes together. So jogging my memory was necessary. The rather significant amount I ordered proves that my former instincts are correct.

The floral notes (tuberose amongst them) are so honeyed and dense (and warmed up by civet notes) that they gain an overripe fruitiness, reminiscent of grappa spirits. The resinous qualities have an aldehydic brilliance to them and a tenacity which has both influential wake (you sniff this from time to time on yourself) and good lasting power, either on skin or on clothes. It's a perfume that seems out of joint with the modern sensibilities in a way, yet like 24 Faubourg it doesn't smell really retro, just mature and "full." Contrary to 24 Faubourg, nevertheless, the older Panthère's aura is less formal and a little more playful, at least to me.

In contrast the newer 2014 La Panthère (differentiated both by bottle and by the article "La" [sic], i.e. "the" before the animal-emblem) spells modern sensibilities galore, yet done in a very tasteful way. Much like Baiser Vole (which let it be noted I liked a lot) was Laurent's take on one of the mega-trends of recent perfumery, that is, the gently powdery floral, here in La Panthère takes some of the tricks of the illusionist, making you see fruit (fresh, tart, like pear liqueur, greenish too, a touch of budding gardenias) while the floral bouquet develops beyond any doubt and gains radiance by the hour. The underscoring by musks fortunately doesn't tilt the perfume into laundry detergent territory, as many fear due to the abundance of musk molecules in functional products used for cleaning and drying our clothes due to their hydrophobic properties (which ensure a lasting impression).

Specifically Musk ketone in the base, which smells warm, inviting, pulsating from the skin, forms an aura that warms up with the heat of the body. Although previously restricted and disappearing from perfumes, it is re-introduced and utilized by some (but not all!) perfume companies and perfume labs. It is exactly its thermoregulating properties which are lost on the blotter, so I advice giving it some time to evolve on the warmth of someone living. The mossy notes brings the composition closer to something which indeed has a 1980s kin than anything. Yet it still remains contemporary, youthful, sparkling with life, a modern chypre. One of the better releases so far.

I really like the concave bottle which is carved from the inside to hold the juice into the cavity formed by the panther's head. In all sincerity I found the commercial (and the overly "meaningful" gaze of the model) yawn-inducing. But your mileage may vary.

Available at major department stores internationally.

Twin Peaks: Ormonde Jayne Champaca & Calvin Klein Truth

Usually the purpose of a Twin Peaks smell-alikes article is to highlight affinities between a higher end fragrance and one which is offered at a comparative price. However it's not solely that. A discontinued or catastrophically reformulated perfume that could be "relived" through experiencing a decent substitute, no matter its provenience, is also worth mentioning. To the latter case I present a comparison between Champaca by British niche brand Ormonde Jayne, which is currently in production, and Truth by Calvin Klein, which has been discontinued a few years already.

via lucacambiaso.deviantart.com

The reason CK Truth for women was discontinued is lost on me. It had everything going for it when it launched back in 2000; from the subtle yet lingering aroma of green bamboo shoots and comforting woody-musky notes to the sensuous advertising and the aesthetically pleasing contours of the packaging, it looked like a much better bet for the Calvin Klein brand than many others in the overpopulated line. The evocation of a woman's skin was sensuous and done with an interesting twist to eschew too obvious a musk note by Alberto Morillas, Jacques Cavallier and Thierry Wasser. It even had its own "blending kit" of 6 key essences (one of which I distinctly recall was a lilac "accord", to my confirmation of the intimacy of this innocent looking flower) to custom mix so as to produce your individual scent combination, a Truth Lush flanker in 2002 and a "sensual bedtime fragrance" flanker -smelling exactly as it name suggests- launched in 2003.

With that in mind it's safe to say CK Truth could be classified under "undeserved commercial flops" as a marketing case study that includes other honorary mentions such as Feu d'Issey and Kenzo L'Elephant. Perhaps the fault was one of timing: By 2003 the advent of "gourmands", i.e. a subcategory of oriental fragrances heavy on the vanilla which mimicked popular desserts smells, was inescapable and the clean, serene, aromatic woody bouquet of Truth was hors categorie.

Champaca by Ormonde Jayne on the other hand, coming from a niche firm, had a clear advantage. It is also "foody", but in the most unusual sense. In fact coming out in 2002 places it at that crossroads mentioned above. And yet, being "savory" rather than "sweet" (in the vanillic or ripe fruity sense), Champaca also pre-empts a trend that took wings by the end of the 2000s; the slightly salty, savory scents which do recall some dish or other, but less overtly than "cupcake" and "cake batter". The cult success of the perfume within the de iuoro limited perimeter of the niche fragrance market was due to its super comforting odor profile. The sweetly creamy, floral note of champaca, a yellow magnolia common in India, was married to the note of steamed basmati rice, itself a nurturing image, Earth Goddess and all.

The inspiration came from a couple who were neighbours to Linda Pilkington when at her first London appartment; whenever they steamed rice, the building smelled cozy and like home. I only found that info later, from Linda herself, but it justified my own impression that Champaca would work great as a room fragrance, one for a cozy restaurant in off-white colors with big sofas around to immerse oneself in like giant cocoons. As the scent progresses the floral element of Champaca is diminished and it turns somewhat "greener" and a tiny bit sour, while still very very soft and non-obtrusive with the low hum that perfumer Geza Schoen is known for.

The Ormonde Jayne seems less "skin scent" than the Klein one overall, the latter being a little tarter and with less of a foody element, but they're remarkably close. Some people notice a third simile with Fraicheur Vegetale Bamboo by Yves Rocher, but I haven't tried that one. If you have please discuss.

Notes for Calvin Klein Truth:
bamboo, wet woods, white peony, vanilla, white amber and sandalwood
Notes for Ormone Jayne Champaca:
Neroli, pink pepper, bamboo, Champaca, Basmati rice, green tea, myrrh, musk.

Related reading on Perfume Shrine: More smell-alikes fragrances on this link.

S-Perfumes S-Perfume Classic: fragrance review

The blinding white of Oia on Santorini island, Greece, against the pale blue of the natural pools contained within some of its cave-houses is not totally alien to the idea behind S-Perfume Classic by super-niche brand S-Perfumes.The same feeling of freshness and serenity -and perversly enough energy as well- reigns in both.

Source: bluepueblo.tumblr.com via Perfume on Pinterest

The S-Perfume "house" began in 2000, the first all-original perfumery to come out of Brooklyn, New York, though not the first one to be founded by a completely unrelated to perfumery individual. Nobi Shioya is a sculptor with an interest in scent who used various fragrances to scent his “Olfactory Art” installations. Nobi ~under the nom de plume Sacré Nobi~ brought on board perfume veterans such as Carlos Benaim and Sophia Grojsman. As Chandler Burr said: “Shioya shares with the scent-architect Frédéric Malle a Woody Allen-ish knack for convincing stars to work for him.” They began to create a series of scents as an art project with very fancy ad copy and very limited distribution  (Which sorta begs the question how the hell did certain non-professional people get on his wares so very, very early on, but I'll leave this to the more sleuthing among you). Word of mouth made the brand something of a mini-cult, not always deservedly (From the newly relaunched and pared down to three range S-ex is by far the most interesting and 100%Love the most wearable).

S-Perfume Classic was originally composed by Alberto Morillas under the project name Jet-Set 1.0 (all the S-Perfumes had conceptual names back then, taking inspiration from the seven deadly sins originally and later taking abstract names such as 100% Love). Christophe Laudamiel re-orchestrated it somewhat to its current formula, sold now as S-Perfume "classic". The label also changed, this time bearing a sort of sketching protozoon (or spermatozoon, if you prefer).

The ambience of the S-Perfume Classic is that of contemporary non-scents: Like Molecule 01 from Escentric Molecules, this is something that doesn't quite register on the cortex but moves like an abstract clean-musky aura around, coming in and out of focus. The ozonic, oxygen touch coupled with the "clean" factor of lavender, aromatic somewhat masculine-smelling herbs and sanitized musk -consisting of the familiar to all via functional products Galaxolide musk type- soon eschews all images of sensuality (The official notes mention creamy, cozy ingredients such as sandalwood and vanilla substituted by Laudamiel for the benzoin which Morillas had used, which nevertheless should not at any rate lead you to believe that we're dealing with a predominantly sensual affair of a skin-scent; the most you get is a hint, a tiny hint of suntan oil at a distance).
On the contrary, S-Perfume Classic has the salty zingy skin-like smelling effect of L'Eau Ambrée by Prada, airated by the coolness encountered in Serge Lutens's L'Eau Froide (but arrived to through totally different means) and is not a classic warm "beachy" fragrance.

Morillas had utilized the "clean" and "energetic" idea to impressive effect already in CK One (collaborating with Harry Fremont) and Mugler's Cologne, balanced with subtler salty-skin and herbs accents in the discontinued CK Truth (with Jacques Cavallier and Thierry Wasser)and adding a touch of cool spice in Bulgari's BLV. Laudamiel emphasized the somewhat rubbery facets recalling neoprene with a subtle woody-powdery finish that is sometimes perceptible and sometimes is not. But it's the shiny, almost hurting the eyes oxygen blast, as squeeky clean as the eyesore one gets upon opening their windows to a blinding white winter day decked in a yard of snow, or the whiteness of the water inside a surf wave, which stay in one's memory.

Notes for S-Perfume Classic: ozonic note, muguet mist, thyme, lavender, musks, sandalwood, vanilla bourbon

Le Labo Vanille 44: fragrance review

To optically pair Vanille 44 by niche brand Le Labo with Luis Buñuel's Un Chien Andalou (1928) is a natural: The fragrance is illusory and surreal, like a razor slashing the eye ball that never actually happens. It's sexy too, in that perverted way of Buñuel's young novice about to take her vows led astray by her widowed uncle. How can a childhood aroma like vanilla do this stuff? Is there nothing sacred? Read on.

Vanille 44 weaves the cool, almost sour scent of frankincense (which naturally has citrus facets, therefore mixing well with bergamot and mandarin) into the tarry-smelling carapace of smoky woods, like gaiacwood. This tar-like inky note is due to pipol, a volatile component that smells of black smoky tea. But the treatment is diaphanous, complex veils of chiffon material rather than heavy damask, as one would have typically expected from an oriental fragrance based on this commonly thought of as aphrodisiac raw material, vanilla.

Le Labo's Vanille 44 is an atypical vanilla hidden beneath layers of other essences, veils of Salome, with a pronounced woody-musky trail (muscenone is a musk molecule) that would never have small children or those "too nice" co-workers with scrunchies on their hair atop bulky mohair sweaters to exclaim "you smell nice!". It's not that Vanille 44 doesn't smell nice, it's that it's not the instantly familiar sweet, cozy, foody vanilla these target groups are accustomed to. On the other hand, I don't know whether that super sophisticated group, who upturn their noses upon hearing your mother still likes Calvin Klein Eternity (which you faithfully buy for her every Christmas), would love it either. It's good stuff, created by one of the very best, perfumer Alberto Morillas (who has given us mega-hits from Kenzo Flower to Aqua di Gio for men for Armani) but is it that uncommon to warrant the huge price (500$ for 100ml)? I believe Lutens, Montale and Guerlain have already set foot in the smoky, woody or boozy vanilla territory respectively and not come back with losses. Vanille 44 is a good, mysterious fragrance, an oddball vanilla fragrance for adults of both sexes, but you need to forget about the name as it's as close to vanilla pods as Falco would be to the real Amadeus.

Le Labo presents it thus: "We all know that Paris is the city of love (and hence sex). But Paris is also the city of Vanille 44! We also know by now that our Rose 31 does not smell of only rose, that our Iris 39 does not smell of just iris, and that the number is as important (if not more) than the name of ingredient to the left of it (I am not a number !). Well our Vanille 44 does not smell of just Vanilla. At least it doesn’t smell of vanilla straight away. We could say that this theme is a subtle ambery incensy woody sexy note that once acquainted with your premium pashmina sweater will release the finest of the vanilla bourbons that you’ve experienced. It’s vanilla disguised."

You can say that again. 

Notes for Vanille 44 by Le Labo:
Natural bergamot, incense, mandarin, gaiac, vanille bourbon, muscenone, pipol, hedione

Le Labo Vanille 44 is a Paris city-exclusive (available at Colette), retailing at $290 for 50ml, but only for the month of November it is globally available at Luckyscent and on the official Le Labo site.

Related reading on Perfume Shrine:  Le Labo reviews & news ,Vanilla fragrances reviews

In the interests of disclosure, the review is based on a sample vial sent to me by the company.

"There's oud - and then there's oud": Perfumer Alberto Morillas Talks on Successful Perfume-Making

"Nothing is ever completely perfect and perfect is boring. Sometimes the big success is when a scent is imperfect. Some might say Angel [by Thierry Mugler] is too girlie. Others could say Chanel No 5 is outdated - but actually there's something about their disproportion that makes them memorable. It's all about the aesthetic and occasionally when the balance is off, it's good."

Spanish-born star perfumer Alberto Morillas talks about what makes winning scents, the intricasy and quality controls of natural raw materials for perfumery, his latest big fragrance launch for Valentino's new Valentina fragrance (review featured in the link), how specific ingredients create specific effects and how tastes haven't really changed that much over the years.

And why didn't he include rose in Valentina de Valentino, since it's a trademark motif of the fashion house? "Honestly, it's not easy to make roses 'young'," he shrugs. "It's a scent often associated with older ladies and jasmine is far younger. And although you do have roses in Italy, it's not really the essence of the country."

You can read the whole interview on this link at The National.

Valentina de Valentino: Fragrance Review & Bottle Giveaway

Valentina de Valentino is not a hard name to come up with when you're the famous Italian designer who's dressed everyone from Jackie O to Courtney Love; the feminine counterpart is a sexy name, meant for It Girls who like to pique people's fancy. But first things first: The new perfume by Valentino won't launch internationally until September 23rd 2011, but I have a full bottle to give away in the meantime to a lucky reader! [draw is now closed, thank you!]. It came through a promotion (an amazing-looking one that included a giga book with pics which inspired me to take the photographs of Valentina you see myself) and has been only sprayed a few times to test it. Please state your interest in the comments for a chance to win the fragrance. Now on to the dissecting stuff...

Perfumers Olivier Cresp and Alberto Morillas, masters in the game of producing scentful crowd-pleasers, joined forces in the new Valentino fragrance which is presented as a floriental, but is really a tart, quite fun "fruitchouli" (perfume community slang for the fruits & patchouli genre of fragrances). In Valentina the tanginess of the top notes (citrus and strawberries) cuts through the sweeter elements in the composition, before the soft, clean woody backdrop takes reign for the duration of the scent on the skin. It's essentially linear, projecting with a direct flirtatious message, in the mould of Flowerbomb, Coco Mademoiselle, Parisienne, Miss Dior Cherie or La Petite Robe Noire (it references the berries notes of the two latter, possibly through Frambinone). Valentino is known for his couture, but this is no "couture scent", it's rather mainstream, though well composed. It also includes 7% of the realtively new molecule Paradisone (also used in 2006 Perles de Lalique, Kapsule Woody by Lagerfeld from 2008 and Cheap & Chic I Love Love by Moschino from 2005).

Valentina flirts like an Italian at an opera opening night, kicking the heels underneath and pinching their cute boyfriend's bottom naughtily but -bottom line!- harmlessly. Valentina de Valentino is bright, with sunnier, citrusier elements, a small subfacet of spice (anise and clove-cinnamon?). You feel the floral bouquet (orange blossom, jasmine and tuberose) in the Valentino fragrance most when comparing wrist-to-wrist with another perfume in the genre: Compared to Coco Mademoiselle, for instance, the patchouli in the Chanel is positively camphoraceous side-to-side and the whole seems less floral. Even so, lovers of the latter would probably like the former, sweet tooth and its hint of castoreum & earth in the "white truffle" accord. This latter element is a hint that they might have been inspired by the seminal Une Rose in the F.Malle line, but of course the Valentino perfume is tamer; there's only a wink of "earthiness".

 
Valentino focuses on how the creative team has envisioned the new fragrance for the modern audacious woman. I suspect they sat down and saw the void of a fragrance for youngish women on the prowl in their portfolio; and who can blame them?

The photographic campaign by David Sims sees Freja Beha Erichsen shot in a deserted Rome at night-time, after escaping a boring soiree (it's a cute commercial!). 
The packaging revisits the ideas of Valentino couture, especially the pastel colours of the past three collections; femininity, audacity and sobriety. All these translate into a bottle that is delicate and surpemely pretty to look at on your vanity with its gorgeous flowers embossed on it, like a small corsage.

Notes for Valentina de Valentino: 
Calabrian bergamot, white truffles from Alba, jasmine, orange blossom from Amalfi, tuberose, strawberry, wood notes, cedar, and  amber.

 

All photographs (except for official ad) © by Elena Vosnaki. Click to enlarge.

Marc Jacobs Daisy Eau so Fresh: fragrance review

Hearing that Marc Jacobs's latest foray into fragrance, Daisy Eau so Fresh, is directed at a "younger audience", one pauses to wonder if 5-year-olds are in need of a little grooming cologne for when they're going out to the playground to meet their friends. The original Daisy, in the bottle with the white rubber Takashi Murakami daisies, is already the personification of the young & hip bright fruity floral: Nothing earth-shattering, a pleasant smell that stands as the perfect "safe floral" for office wear, casual parties and anytime you just can't be bothered to indulge in the splendor and challenge of niche brands such as Serge Lutens, Amouage or Etat Libre d'Orange. In fact the canon of Marc Jacobs is unchallenging, inoffensive perfumes, with possibly the exception of Bang, an entry reminiscent of more exclusive-niche fragrances. Daisy Eau so Fresh, a flanker fragrance to the original following the success of its antecedant, continues on the same sure path that the rest of the Jacobs bottles are merrily heading with a rather nice twist.



What's that twist? Daisy Eau so Fresh is taking a slightly retro route to do so, contrary to the ad copy ~perpetuated via online media, haven't these people smelled the scent?~ which advertises this as "more fruity, more bubbly, more fun". We're obviously dealing with a marketing emphasis on what sells best (which in itself isn't very promising), because this isn't fruitier than the original, nor is it more "bubbly". On the contrary the fragrance's effect is composed in a roundabout way via the distinctive nostalgic note of violets: lots and lots of green violet and violet leaves (via ionones and methyl octyne carbonate /Nonadienal I'm led to believe). Allied to fresh rosy-berry accents and "clean" musks it is a scent on the cusp of "scrubbed" and pear-liquer-like: its sweetness comes via ways that do not recall foodstuff or lush white flowers.
In fact the formula reminds me quite a bit of the re-orchestration of Givenchy's L'Interdit from 2003 in the rounded shoulders rectangular with the small gold cap (there was another reformulation in 2007); same with the violet leaves heavy Balenciaga Paris from last season: the leitmotif is similar and it's a very pretty idea in the realm of "fresh" or "crisp" in a non-citrusy context that should be easy for spring or summer wear. Sillage and tenacity are average for Eau so Fresh.
If pressed to choose between the original Daisy and this one, I would probably pick Eau so Fresh over it, although you'd have to be quite persistent in your persuasion to begin with.

The company certainly used a bit of fanfare during the press launch: Guests were greeted by a horse named Dotty, proceeding to spend their evening sipping cocktails, eating steak, and listening to a DJ set by Daisy Dares You, all the while surrounded by the sweet aromata of raspberry and lychee. Top model Hannah Holman is the face of Marc Jacobs Daisy's latest advertisement, photographed by Juergen Teller.
The bottle, taller and more rectangular than the original Daisy, with a cluster of 6 rubber daisy petal appliques in white, yellow and pink, is simply adorable in its kitsch-cute way, even for a decided aesthetics cynics such as myself.

Notes for Daisy Eau so Fresh by Marc Jacobs:
Top: grapefruit, green notes, raspberry and pear
Heart: jasmine, rose, violet, litchi and apple blossom
Base: musk, virginia cedar and plum.

Daisy Eau so Fresh hits the US market on February 27th at major department stores in 75ml and 125ml of Eau de Toilette.

pic via allurabeauty

Yves Saint Laurent Belle d'Opium: fragrance review

When the perfume gods are chastising your Hubris (in this case taking the original Opium and changing the hell out of its familiar, groundbreaking spicy bouquet "thanks" to IFRA restrictions), Nemesis comes in the guise of bland innocuousness meant to flop, namely Belle d'Opium. Long forgotten are the droves of protest ~and inevitable adoration~ on the addictive powers of the original Opium by Yves Saint Laurent; the almost contraband repackaging in certain countries so that it wouldn't pose challenges at customs; and the Australian peanut growing governor who banned its sales in his county. Belle d'Opium merely raises an eyebrow at best with its almost masculine structure, which isn't wholly intentional and belies the fanfare and the Romain Gavras commercial (watch here) with which it was launched to the scene a little while ago.


It's no fault of the competent perfumers, Honorine Blanc and Alberto Morillas, but rather a capitulation to the sacrificial pyre that the "Intentional Fragrant Abyss" (our own patented IFRA acronym, which seems more like it) is pushing most modern perfumes into. Firmenich, who produces the juice for bean-counters L'Oréal, is obviously too afraid to bypass these new restrictions and given a cheapskate budget they are following the bland and confused brief to the letter: Make a programatic spicy floral-oriental for people who are afraid to venture outside Lahore for fear of coming to terms with real poverty and those who think visiting Paris means shopping for scarves signés, stuffing on croissants and doing Le Louvre in under 3 hours.
Oddly, the perfumers were obliged to pronounce such silliness as "the fragrance was inspired by France's cultural references such as the Belle de Jour film or Belle du Seigneur book [they wish!] but also international references, like Bella Swan in Twilight [there you go!] who is a fresh-faced young woman, a romantic figure later acquiring dark psychoses." [sic, I kid you not]. It's very bad timing that Armand de Villoutreys, president of Firmenich, was put on record in the September issue of Cosmétique Mag admiting there is no time for the company to work properly: "We receive an avalanche of briefs and the whole chain is overheated. It's mechanical, in the sense that we ought to be very quick and we don't have the necessary time to devote to each step". Uh huh...

Although the listed notes of Belle d'Opium include jasmine, gardenia, peach, sandalwood, lily and pepper, I'm scared to report that the whole smells of neither, but rather an abstract and shapeless spicy-woody composition, beggining with a muted fruity-cardamom note and ending in the familiar woody-ambery-patchouli drydown of myriads of modern fragrances, plus an incense hint. Spicy perfumes, like masterful ganster films, have the great advantage of having a core duet of players who battle for reign within the gang crossing each other and siding with other forces in order to prevail; you're at the edge of your seat to see who will overpower whom. Just observe the majestic (and statement-making) Poivre by Caron with its pepper & clove shot-down at dawn. If only Belle d'Opium had the guts to double-cross its partners, we might have something memorable in our hands. As it is, we're not only far from -even- PG13, but firmly into the Nickelodeon channel.

To add insult to injury, neither the sillage nor the lasting power are technically adequate for an Eau de Parfum, which ~with said perfumers involved~ suggests a quickly churned out "generic" please-the-masses deodorant for the price of a proper perfume.
What bugs me most? According to inside info I have the name Belle d'Opium was chosen to ride on the heels of Yves Saint Laurent's best-seller and will be eventually pulled in favour of simply "Belle". If Belle reminds you of... B'Elle (a fictionary flanker of Elle by the same brand maybe?), it's because that's the concept to begin with. Be Elle? Nah....Shame, really!

Available at major department stores in Eau de Parfum concentration (from 53 to 90 euros).

photo collage originally uploaded on stylista.gr

Cacharel Scarlett: fragrance review

It is with a sense of disillusionment that I encountered Scarlett by Cacharel while perusing the aisles of Sephora in search of a gift. The brand has something of νόστος, of L'Éternel Retour for me: Anais Anais with its funeral parlour lillies (no offence inferred) always attracted me with its subtle autumnal romanticism which so contrasted with our innocence of the times; Loulou has been a sweet memory of long-ago, a shadowed Lolitesque reprise of L'Heure Bleue behind the parapet of a circus (and it still has devoted fans); Cacharel pour Homme was rampant in school, even though it probably didn't merit quite such a popularity; Eden and Eau d'Eden had the merit of being completely individual in their own little way (a wet wools fruity-oriental and a watermelon ozonic that didn't hiss at you, respectively); Noa is a pretty white musk with a powdery little whiff that can be an office-friendly scent that's not completely trite thanks to a hint of coffee; and Gloria was ~before its unexplained discontinuation~ a pipe-tobacco dream on the lips of a modern young coquette posing at some night-club wearing a pailleté top and licking Amaretto off her lips.
Then they started producing über-sweet fruity stuff that was mediocre at best: Amor Amor, Promesse and Liberté seemed like efforts to tune in the craziness of everybody else issuing fruity florals with intense sweetness on a bed of cleaned-up patchouli, no doubt hot on the heels of Coco Mademoiselle's commercial success: efforts with results hard to deferentiate between and ultimately forgettable. Along with a pleiad of flankers that didn't shine any too brightly in the galaxy...

Scarlett goes even lower, reminding me of a deodorant mist or a shampoo more than a perfume and it really pains me to say so. Composed by such experienced and talented perfumers such as Honorine Blanc, Olivier Cresp and Alberto Morillas, it's probably a testament to the rush of companies to issue new things at a breakneck speed giving them about a week to come up with something. Or alludes to the desire to adress a pre-nubile audience raised on Japanese-style erasers and soapy non-perfumey "perfume" on their mothers: If you're brought up on Amazing Grace, anything more smelly than a bar of soap just might trip you into sensory overload. "Soapy" isn't necessarily bad, if done right: Great aldehydics of yore as well as modern musky florals prove it can be pleasant and even refined. The wrong kind however can tilt the scales into floor cleaner, deodorant cream and the laundry cupboard.

Scarlett starts on fresh pears that hint at the lightly gourmand and innocent opening of Petit Chérie by Annick Goutal and continues on girly transparent (and completely artificial, detergent-style) flowers, while vaguely being reminiscent of Juicy Couture overall only less polished. It completely belies both its wonderful flacon ~designed by Christophe Pillet~ and its fiesty name that would allude to passion and sensuality (this is neither O'Hara, nor Johansson). And just because someone had it phrased so very wittingly I am borrowing their words for once and quoting: "If Scarlett had worn this, she could have stopped the war all by herself. The yankees would have suffocated on their approach to Atlanta, and Rhett Butler would have donned a bonnet and crinoline and danced with Ashley Wilkes rather than endure our whiffy heroine".

But its invitation is so short-lived that a testing spree shouldn't leave you with too much to wash off, so do give it a try when you approach a department store and see if you think differently. I thought it wouldn't work too great on blood stains anyway...

Bulgari Omnia Green Jade: fragrance review

Much as I haven't been personally impressed by the Omnia franchise at the respected Bulgari brand ~despite liking many of their other perfumes~ I am forced to assume that it has been quite successful commercially in its Vulcan-knot bottle, since not only I constantly see it prominently featured at my local Sephora, but it seems to produce a descendant almost each subsequent year since its initial birth in 2005!

Omnia Green Jade is thus the third flanker to follow the original Omnia by Bulgari in its ambery flacon, the one which created questions as to how to spray it among first-time users due to its unusual design. The progeny had been Omnia Crystalline (in frosted glass) and Omnia Améthyste (in a violet flacon), both echoing other gemstones of different colours. Perhaps at the stem of my antipathy, or -to put it more accurately- indifference, is the -to me- ackward and hard to handle bottle design despite its poetic evocation of unbreakable bonds of love. On the contrary, I love the house's design in any other area and often shop there for trinkets, jewels, gifts and accessories at their luxurious boutiques. For those wondering, Bulgari is pronounced BOOL-ga-ree and is alternatively spelled Bvlgari, as if written in classical Latin characters since the founder Sotirios Vulgaris (VOOL-ga-rees) was a Greek goldsmith who took residence in Rome a couple of generations ago where he founded the eponymous house. The rest if history, as they say.

Omnia Green Jade (the green moniker surely a little redundant as jade is a specific shade of green gem anyway) was introduced as

"a new, precious, joyful fragrance inspired by the enchanting and sophisticated aura of the Jade gemstone. This crisp, floral green scent arouses a spirit of fresh floral emotions and embodies the natural, distinctive young woman seeking a sensual signature essence as pure and enticing as the first spring blossoms".

The demographic aimed at is "a little younger" which also seems a little redundant as the franchise is aimed at young women anyway. The new fragrance was officially presented at the TFWA World Exhibition in Cannes, France, last October and launched worldwide last February.

Despite the description of greeness as well as the corrreponding packaging and advertising (featuring a delicious pair of Bulgari earrings in fat drops of jade), Omnia Green Jade is traitorous to its name, being rather a subdued floral musky-woody in the style that has been well established for some years now. Perfumer Alberto Morillas, responsible for the original Omnia as well, has been playing these releases like sharply tense violin strings at the twist of his experienced graceful fingers, much like he recently did with Essence for Narciso Rodriguez, but with somewhat predictable results.
For this one “I thought of its colours, green with white shadows, of the energy of this millenary gemstone, symbol of the good, the beautiful and the precious,” explained Alberto Morillas. “I have built the scent around a white petal cascade and a vivid freshness, combined with the rare and mystic texture of white wood and exotic musks.” The promise of spring-time in this transitory phase in which the first buds are tentatively raising their heads beneath the still cold air is enough to have us on pins and needles for the full blown effect of spring's arrival and usually a little spring-like fragrance is very much desired, nay craved, at this particular time of year. Imagining green fragrances I often revert to sharper impressions of tangy, crushed lemon leaves like in Ô de Lancôme, of galbanum sharpness of the vintage Vent Vert ; I crave warmer weather vetiver offerings, little spring bells of white as the lily-of-the-valley of Diorissimo and the elegant insouciance of Chanel No.19. Omnia Green Jade is light and ethereal, but not particularly reminiscent of spring's blossoms nor its green grasses. Its feel is abstract and subtly musky-woody, meant to correspond to modern urbane environments rather than rolling on the knolls of some Tuscan countryside. The pistachio note (which sometimes alludes to lentisque, commonly known as mastic) is not quite as discernable in its oleaginous, fluffy vibrance as I would have wished. If anything, there is a subdued floral note of transparent peonies, coy unsweetened violets and "clean" lily of the valley in its hidden core, quite toned-down, soft and timid and foiled in blonde, pale woods, tea-like and subtle clean-skin-musks. The overall impression is of a competently-made office-appropriate scent that does not create ripples on the pond, jade-hued or otherwise.

Notes for Bulgari Omnia Green Jade
Spring Water, Green Mandarin, White Peony, Nasturtium, Pear Tree Flower, Jasmine Petals, Fresh Pistachio, White Woods, Musk

Bulgari Omnia Green Jade is currently available at major department stores in Eau de Toilette concentration in sizes 0.84oz/25ml, 1.32oz/40ml and 2.2oz/65ml and in two ancilary products: 200ml shower bath and 200ml body lotion.

Ad pic via bluebellgroup.com. Pic of jade earrings via morethanscentsable.com

Narciso Rodriguez Essence: fragrance review

Narciso For Her by young, hip and understated designer Narciso Rodriguez had me at hello all those years ago with its delicious musky trail that is too sexy for words, yet polished enough to pass off as classy; ever since the brand has me curious as to what they come up with next. Proving to be a mega-trendsetter ever since its launch, Narciso for Her catapulted the market into a gene-pool sharing the same musks and "clean" synthesized patchouli bases shaped into the beautiful but traitorous dress of the "modern chypré"; in moments of truth and Sundays' waking up too late after a night partying next to delicious-looking strangers those scents shed that pretentious dress for the comfortable and more accurate flannel PJs of "woody florals with musks" and that's perfectly all right by me. But I digress... Luckily for all of us, the tremendous success of Narciso For Her didn't wind the Rodriguez brand into mechanically and pacingly launching myriads of "flankers"; with the exception of slight differences between the original range itself (eau de toilette vs eau de parfum vs parful roll-on vs Musk For Her oil) and the masculine counterpart issued one year ago, they have restrained themselves into an elegant rhythm which I respect.

Essence, Rodriguez's newest feminine fragrance, didn't grab me as much as Narciso For Her initially did, but that doesn't mean it is a bad fragrance; on the contrary it has a strangely insidious, undercurrent appeal of being made by very skilled hands who were given a not-too-precise-brief and although I am snobishly trying to write it off as repetitive and trite, I can't really. In Essence Rodriguez collaborated again with Beauté Prestige International, the Paris-based fragrance division of the Shiseido Cosmetics Corporation, aiming to capture a "sensual and luminous fragrance with a modern heart of musc enhanced by radiant notes of rose petals, powder notes of iris and hints of amber resulting in a floral, powdery musc fragrance". It doesn't sound terribly exciting, it utilizes the same well-known notes that Narciso Rodriguez obviously loves and I bet that the Spanish-born perfumer Alberto Morillas of Firmenich ~at once a classicist and a modernist and amazingly prolific in his almost 40-years-long career~ could have provided the formula with both hands tied behind his back and blindfolded at the drop of a hat! A recipient of numerous awards, among them the coveted Prix Francois Coty in 2003, Alberto Morillas is responsible for such bestsellers as Armani's Sensi and Aqua di Gio, Bulgari Blu, Omnia and Thé Blanc, Carolina Herrera Chic and 212, Cartier's Le Baiser du Dragon , M7 for YSL, Marc Jacobs Daisy and of course another huge influence on the market: Flower by Kenzo. The man knows how to attract the audience's loyalty, therefore enough said.

The overall effect of Narciso Rodriguez Essence is a clean unctuous almost soapy/aldehydic scent with classical mementos of White Linen minus some of the sharpness and Chanel No.5 minus the sweet florals or the skanky sexiness of lacy panties underneath prim suits, yet with an eerily reminiscent warm-skin-feel that the original Narciso for Her possessed as well. The clean musks featured, with their lathery bubbliness, have their lineage in Morillas's 212 and Daisy, while the powdery segment takes a page off Flower. Little development happens from the initial dryer-sheet sharply aliphatic and abstractly floral opening to the polite muskiness skin-like effect of probably Ambroxan*, (wishful-thinking) Muscenone** and Habanolide**. For what is worth the current modern white musk accord was first created by Alberto Morillas himself in Emporio Armani White for Her (combining Habanolide to Helvetolide**) and he used Muscenone in both Flower and Vanille 44 for niche brand Le Labo. The whole pared-down approach reminds me of the Escentric Molecules line. Although the powdery hazy effect is often attributed to iris, I do not detect any of its melancholic earthiness in the composition, same as with Infusion d'Iris by Prada which utilized a similar approach to the upscale-shampoo-latheriness vibe which seems to be all the rage now (judging by even such offerings as Chanel's Beige from Les Exclusifs). Luckily for the anosmiacs to Narciso For Her it seems to be rather different, enough to maybe give a jolt to their hypothalamus and be discernable to them.

Rodriguez wanted Essence to represent duality: "the intense and the ethereal, the simple and the complex" with an emphasis on "sun's purity" which reminds me of the "solar musks" accord of his first feminine perfume. I guess it's shorthand for "clean and warm" which Essence most certainly is. Lovers of that unperfume-y aspect as well as adventurers of all things delicately musky should flock to at least try it, the rest might find it non remarkable or even unpleasant in its screechy soapy tonalities which overstay their welcome impressively. It's pleasant enough for people into that genre, quite unisex and rather fun (for the price asked) to wear when that Sunday in flannels comes around once in a while, although not as enjoyably fulfilling as the original Narciso for Her is.

The bottle glows from within its mirrored core, round in its glass curvaceousness, created by noted industrial designer Ross Lovegrove (recipient of the prize Royal Designer for Industry in 2004 and art-exhibitor at MOMA and Guggenheim Museum in New York, the Centre Pompidou in Paris as well as the Design Museum in London). The eye-catching design is almost a futuristic, rounded interpretation of the original solid and austere Narciso For Her flacon.
The advertising campaign shot by the lens of Inez van Lamsweerde and Vinoodh Matadin
features supermodel Catherine MacNeil to whom Narciso "was drawn to instinctively".

Notes for Narciso Rodriguez Essence:
iris, rose, benzoin, modern musks


Narciso Rodriguez Essence is available in Eau de Parfum 50ml/1.7oz and 100ml/3.4oz exclusively at Saks Fifth Avenue from March and globally in April.
Ancilary products include a body lotion, a bath and shower cream and a deodorant spray.

Ad pic via fibre2fashion.com , soap courtesy of sassylicious.com.au

*Abroxan is a synthetic aromachemical mimicking the ambergris sensuous note.
**Muscenone, Habanolide, Helvetolide are gtrademark names for different varieties of synthetic musks.