Guerlain Apres L'Ondee: fragrance review

What's in a name? What's in a material? Shakespeare's immortal line has a lot to account for. Lots of scents with heliotrope pose as "almond" or "marzipan" or "powder with tonka". These are all scents with a kinship that runs deeper than initially thought of. The synthesized material that is dosed into compositions that take heliotrope as a starting point is quite strong and can be an overwhelming molecule to work with if one isn't careful and discreet. One of the first major fragrances to make judicious use of it, in a light enough composition, so as to wear it inconspicuously, was Après l'Ondée by Guerlain, "after the spring shower" as the name implies.  

"Ça se porte léger" (this wears lightly) is the motto behind the concept of these Guerlain creations that aim to offer gouaches rather than oil paintings. It's more akin to the pale, hazy colorations on a Monet sky than the almost fauve brushwork and vivid color palette on a Van Gogh, to bring an art analogue. If one were to look for a fauve heliotrope, one would rather turn to Cacharel's Loulou.

Zaira Alfaro on Flickr via

I personally find Après l'Ondée a rather quiet fragrance indeed, almost timid, with a sweetish air that is not immediately thought of as feminine (quite different than the airs that current feminines exhibit!), with lots of heliotropin to stand for cassie, which is the predominant element. Some heliotrope scents also recall cherry pie, or lilac and powder, but not Après l'Ondée. Even the almond is not particularly identified as almond, it's a haze of lightly warmed, blurred, hazy notes, a cloud of a distant scent.

The violets, like you might have heard, are quite fleeting in this Guerlain perfume, especially in more recent incarnations which are warmer and cuddlier than the older ones, notably the extrait de parfum in the Louis XV style bottle. The anisic note on the top note is also a brilliant addition (created through the use of benzylaldehyde, it would be recreated more forcibly in L'heure Bleue some years later), since it brings a chill cooling off the first spray and balances the warmer, almond paste flavor of the heliotrope in the heart.

Après l'Ondée is also rather less known than L'Heure Bleue, so even Guerlain wearers on the street might not identify it right off, which is always a good thing in my books; it would also obliterate your qualms about it being perceived as solely feminine.

Christian Dior Hypnotic Poison: fragrance review and musings

The original formula of Hypnotic Poison by Dior was presented in a red rubber bottle (much like the 1990s Bvlgari Black fragrance, there was something about rubber in 1998, it seems), and I was expecting something similar to Bvlgari's potion at the time. The fetishy matte of the bottle was a nice touch; it felt odd in the palm of one's hand, as if it wouldn't "roll" enough. The smell nevertheless is what initially frightened me. The bitter almond was too strong for me, too medicinal, the wrong side of medicinal actually. This was not the medicinal chypre perfume of my memories of Clinique Aromatics Elixir (perfume review HERE), which I adored even as a child. After all, I'm no shy violet when it comes to Strange Smells. It felt heavily vanillic with something suffocating too in the mix; later on I discovered the culprit was the combo with coconut.

credit: suzumechan at deviant.art.com via

Coconut is forever tied in my mind with those horrible dangling trees that cabs used to come with. Back then when I was a child and we used cabs for travelling across the country from time to time, smoking IN the car, and with a child IN the car no less, was not frowned upon. The drivers therefore used to pack the most powerful scents available in the dangling trees car freshener horror: either coconut or vanilla which are weapons of mass destruction in the heat of Greek summer. Needless to say the memory of nausea follows me to this day haunting coconut scents ever since.

On the other hand, Hypnotic Poison is intensely powdery, a quality associated with dryness and grooming (more on powdery fragrances HERE). It therefore evokes a sense of pampering and cleanness, highly appreciated in warmer climates. Hypnotic Poison is a huge commercial success in both France and Greece, for what it's worth. What made it a definitive best-seller in Europe, and especially the souther countries (Greece, Spain, France...) is the fact that in a completely novel way, it reweaves the basic idea of grooming: that things should be inedible. It sounds contradictory when the main component is actually a bitter almond note, recalling liqueurs like Amaretto, but the intense powder in Dior's Hypnotic Poison suggests grooming and not stuffing one's mouth with pastries made of marzipan paste. Maybe a very naughty talcum powder to powder one's latex skirt before venturing out night-clubbing? The thing is, it works. Exceptionally so.

Hypnotic Poison is a perfect fragrance for fall and winter. It's seductive, yet not easy to decipher. Men seem to love it. Perfume lovers wink at you knowingly when you mention it. It's full of character. It's also approachable because of the almond, vanilla and coconut. It's also too effing much sometimes!

Dior Poison Girl (2016): fragrance review

One can blame LVMH for many things, but not for not knowing how to milk a thing on their hands. The Poison fragrance brand is a huge success for Parfums Christian Dior and not without good reason. Distinctive, aggressively noticeable, innovative at their time, the Poison perfume series has provided us with memorable fragrances. The new Poison Girl, out in February 2016 in my country, may fall short on the memorability stakes, but there's a clever twist inside to reflect one of the cleverest (and most enduringly popular) in the canon, the almond-powder feel of Hypnotic Poison inside a "youthful" sweet fruits and caramel medley.

collage made by Le Coeur Gothique (on parfumo.net)

It has been said that pop songs consist of recycling the same handful of chords, as one smart reader reminded me the other day, and the universe is well aware of my belief in fragrances' intertextuality (there's no parthenogenesis in art), so it comes as little surprise that I don't deem that bad in itself if the resulting collage is eye-grabbing. On the contrary it's a smart move by perfumer Francois Demachy, who oversees the creation process at Dior (no stranger to artistic influence themselves). Hypnotic Poison has created its own history and legend, and like Mugler's Angel basic chord before it, serves as a pop reference that pops up everywhere. Why not in the mother of all Poisons, aka Dior?

Poison Girl starts with a sweet, toffee like fruitiness of orange hard candy which vaguely recalls half the current market (La vie est Belle, Tresor La Nuit, Black Opium, Loverdose, Flowerbomb...), with a cherry cough syrup hint, that predisposes an avid Poison lover for toothache, but thankfully cedes to a powdery almond within the hour where it stays for the duration. Seeing as Hypnotic Poison Eau Sensuelle got to the good part straight away, I can only surmise that the intent is to grab a specific demographic interested in the rather tacky gourmand top note and who might come to love the development regardless.

LVMH needed something to spar with L'Oreal and they got it. Not bad.

A footnote on the ad campaign:
Rather lost on the advertising and naming of Dior's Poison Girl, personally speaking.
"Girl" sounds demeaning (would they have called a masculine fragrance "boy" if it would appeal to young men? Edit to add: Apparently they would, but there's a reason). The night club pictures with model and actress Camille Rowen holding a cigarette in her nubile hands under the No Smoking signs and her defiant (try stoned) look under her $200-posing-for-bed-head haircut looks as rebellious as a straight A's pupil going for an Anthropology major instead of the prescribed Law School.  Is "no bras" the fighting field of young girls today? I very much doubt it.
At least the previous Poison editions had bold, imaginative, suggestive advertising. This is lame.

Patricia de Nicolai Kiss Me Tender: fragrance review

Heliotrope is at once deep, soft and mysterious, a note traversing the rainbow from the yellow of vanilla pods and almond, to the light blue and green of anise right to newly mown hay. Kiss Me Tender by Parisian niche brand Patricia de Nicolaï feels like being submerged in a warm bathtub on a cool evening, the translucence of water clouded by the full range of the delicate, powdered notes of heliotrope.

The simplicity of structure in Kiss Me Tender shouldn't fool us into believing there is no skill involved. Heliotrope might be a full perfume in itself, but De Nicolaï weaves it both subtly and deliciously, a hint of retro without ever falling into the pit of dated. If you always liked the powdered aniseed core of the classic L'Heure Bleue perfume but found it too mature, rejoice: the main components ~anise, orange blossom and synthetic heliotropin (for heliotrope notes, as the flower cannot be extracted)~ are present in both the classic Guerlain and the newer Patricia de Nicolaï; it might all be in the genes, the woman derives from Guerlain stock after all! (For those who don't know, she's the grand-daughter of Pierre Guerlain). But it's more than that just modernising and streamlining a beloved structure and one of the quintessentially Guerlain notes. It's underscoring it with a freshness and tenderness like never before.

The almondy facets in Kiss Me Tender bolstered by vanilla overlap into the gourmand oriental fragrance group; tempered, good-mannered sweet, a touch of white pastry confectionary like marzipan accented with spicy bites that are just this side of edgy. The hay facet is clearly discernible, over abstract solar notes (salicylates) of ylang ylang and non-indolic jasmine, floating on a watery pong, the two woven in the ethereal way of Hermès Vanille Galante.

More delicate and subtle with skin-soft musky notes than livilier interpretations of the note (such as the latest versions of Guerlain's Apres L'Ondée which are eclipsing the violet in lieu of heliotropin) Kiss Me Tender comes closer to the feel of being wrapped by goose down in L'Eau d'Hiver (F.Malle) or the lighter interpetations of Shalimar and Habit Rouge; after all it shares the flou, hazy base of opoponax resin with the latter two. The deviant, fresh and slightly green, minty-anisic top note takes Kiss Me Tender on a different track than the usually opressive routes of other gourmand or floriental fragrances built on almond and gives it a unisex aspect that men might enjoy too. (The trick of coupling anise with vanilla for lightening the latter is working for Jo Malone in Vanilla & Anise as well.)
For its elegance and versatility, Kiss Me Tender is a must-try for those who always sought for a discreet daytime heliotrope fragrance but probably a bit too pastel for those who like their floral orientals hard-core and khol-eyed.

Notes for Patricia de Nicolai Kiss Me Tender:
vanilla, aniseed, almond, heliotrope, fresh cut hay

Kiss Me Tender is available in 30ml/1oz for 39 euros or 100ml/3.4oz for 99 euros of Eau de Parfum available on the official Patricia de Nicolaï site and select stockists.

Hilde Soliani Conaffeto: fragrance review & draw

If you have dreamed about a fragrance reflecting the endearing and romantic thoughts surrounding a wedding preparation, from the sugared almonds in the little tulle bags as a small treat for anyone attending, down to the orange blossoms garlanding the bride's hair and the groom's boutonnière, then ConAffeto by Hilde Soliani is your answer.


Weddings never fail to tug at my heartstrings, possibly because in the Orthodox tradition they are so impressive and symbolic to savour: the ritualistic engagement of the spouses-to-be resembles a royal crowning, twin-crowns of white blossoms and silver wire (stefana) tied together by a ribbon, are put on their heads and criss-crossed three times to denote the presence of the Holy Triad; the mutual drinking of blessed wine from the same golden chalice a symbol of sharing in their shared from now on life; the ritual cyclical "dance" by the bride and groom of the ceremonial table, to the enthusiastic accompanying throwing of rice mixed with rose petals by the attendees, symbolising their good wishes for fertility and eternal growth. And the small desserts that are given to each guest at the end of the holy mystery and before the wedding reception by the unmarried young women of the extended families in festive attire to whom it's customary to reply "may you wed as well". Oh yes, weddings are a moving event where I come from.

Conaffeto comes from a wordplay on these lovely associations: Con affeto means "with affection" in Italian, but it also resembles the small treat offered at weddings, the sugared almond, called confetto (plural confetti), coined by Monica Polachinni, an Italian American friend of Hilde's. Sugared almonds, according to lore coming from the Arab Al-Razi who invented the recipe, accompany many religious ceremonies in the Christian faith, from baptism to matrimony and it's often with their colour that they carry a special meaning: white for the first wedding, yellow for the (possible) second, pink or blue for christenings, several different colours for the anniversaries of happily-married couples according to years together...
It is with affection for this tradition and a more personal affection that Hilde created the perfume to offer as a custom creation for her friend Danielle's wedding to her Vietnamese fiance. This bespoke perfume of Conaffeto, presented in roll-on oil form, is a floral gourmand, as soft and promising as the nuptials of a couple radiating with happiness at the promise of a sweet life ahead.


Soliani's work in art directing fragrances with caressing, haute gourmand qualities is well documented, from the chocolate-laced fit for Valentine's Day Ciocospezissimo and Ciocorosissimo to the Michelin-star restaurant flavours of Acquiilssssima, Doolciiisssimo, Saaliiisssiimo, Freschiiissimo. Conaffeto is again inspired by foodstuff, but thanks to its restraint and softness, as well as its oil parfum concentration, it remains as fluffy and light as a cloud or a wedding-reception meringue. Simply put, you're met with the aroma of sugar-coated almonds, the crunchy crust a little bit bittersweet, the almond reinforcing the impression and at the background a note of coumarin anchoring it, all put in the context of a linear composition. The floral element (orange blossoms) is subtle, clean, ethereally romantic like two people embarking on one of life's greatest adventures.

Conaffeto isn't yet released outside Italy, but it will soon be. I have a sample for a lucky reader: Please state in the comments what you like (or don't like) in weddings and I will pick a random winner. Draw will close on Sunday midnight.


Related reading on Perfume Shrine: Hilde Soliani news & reviews, Upcoming releases.

By the way for anyone having a sweet tooth, some really grea-tasting confetti from a Greek company: Hatziyannakis. Non affiliated but highly recommended.

Disclosure: A sample was provided by the perfumer.
collage pic of Greek weddings via stigmes.com.gr (click pics to enlarge)

Melomakarona and Kourambiedes: the aromata of Greek Christmas holidays

The word άρωμα (aroma) means several things in Greek: It denotes personal fragrance as a medium of enhancing one's aura, it evokes the content of bottles encapsuling precious essences to be used for aromatizing of various aims, but also it means the lingering smell in the air that might be coming off a fragrant kitchen, busy in preparation for a traditional feast; a feast that is more of a gregarious social and sensuous event than merely a casual gathering. Food and the hearth have always been at the core of Greek culture (the hearth, Εστία, had been an ancient Greek goddess, no less) and savouring the aromata (plural for aroma) in every step of the process is half the fun!
The celebration of the end of the year, including Christmas and the New Year's Eve, is forever in my mind steeped in the sweet smells emanating through the door of an oven while baking the traditional and idiosyncratic cookies of the season: μελομακάρονα/melomakarona and κουραμπιέδες/kourambiedes. Although there are other delicacies around and everyone has to have something sweet on hand for the kid-carolers who come to the house on the morning of each celebration's Eve (caramelised nuts and raisins, marrons glacés and marrons déguisés in chocolate, candied orange rind, and δίπλες/"deeples" or "diples", that is Greek Honey Curls: pieces of fried and suryped dough sprinkled with chopped nuts, supposedly looking like Christ's swaddling clothes) it's those two mentioned above that are most popular and characteristic, found in every home from the most humble to the most extravagant.

So here are the recipes I use, handed down from my mother and grandmothers (excellent cooks all of them) for you to recreate the homely and sensuous atmosphere of this little corner of the world. They're easy to make and very flavourful!

Melomakarona (pronounced Meh-lo-ma-KA-row-na) Recipe
Ingredients for the dough
1 cup Extra Virgin olive oil
1/2 cup white sugar
2 juiced oranges
1/2 juiced lemon
1 egg yolk
3 cups self-raising flour
1 teaspoon ground cinnamon
1 teaspoon ground clove
1 1/3 cups chopped walnuts

Ingredients for the syrup
1 cup white sugar
1/2 cup honey
1/2 cup boiling water
1 cinnamon stick
4 cloves
1/2 juiced lemon

1.Preheat oven to 180°C/350°F/gas mark 4 and line 2 flat baking trays with baking paper.
2. Beat oil, sugar, 1/2 cup orange juice and 2 tablespoons lemon juice. You can do this by hand (I do) or use an electric mixer on high speed until thick and creamy.
3.Add egg yolk and beat again, but not too much this time (you want to trap in air so that it raises when baking).
4.Sift flour and add half the cinnamon and the clove to the oil mixture. Fold gently to combine (it should have a doughy texture).
5.Using your flour-dusted hands (so dough doesn't stick)hands, roll the mixture into oval shapes without pressing them too much. Dough should make about 32 pieces. Place on prepared trays without touching one another (as they will expand while baking).
6.Bake for 25 minutes or until firm to the touch and then allow to cool on trays.
7.To make the syrup combine all ingredients in a saucepan over medium to high heat, stirring to dissolve the sugar at first and bring to the boil. Then reduce heat to medium-low. Simmer for 4 minutes or until syrup thickens slightly: you want it to form "drops" when you pour it from a spoon.
8.Using a slotted spoon, dip the cool cookies, 1 at a time, into the hot syrup for about 30 seconds (no more or they become very sweet and sticky!), turning over until well coated. Return to trays. The cool cookie, hot suryp is the secret that makes them absorb the suryp best and thus remain delectably moist and soft.
9.Combine chopped walnuts and remaining ground cinnamon. Sprinkle over cookies: the suryp should make them mostly "stick" on top. Allow to cool completely and they're ready to serve.

Melomakarona are also called Φοινίκια (phoenekia), especially when they're shaped like fingers, in some regions of Greece (mainly where Greek refugees from the -now Turkish- Smyna and Constantinople came to). They keep for a long time (up to a month, although you're sure to consume them long before that!) outside of the fridge thanks to the high sugar ratio; just keep them in an air-tight biscuit box so they don't become dry due to air exposure.
Their clove-y smell is captured in a wonderfully indulgent little solid scent by Pacifica: Madagascar Spice.

Kourambiedes (pronounced koo-rah-bee-YEH-thess) Recipe


Ingredients
4 cups of sheep's butter (cow's can be substituted, but the traditional method calls for sheep)
2 cups of confectioner's sugar
2 egg yolks
2 teaspoons of vanilla extract
2 teaspoons of baking powder
3 tablespoons of brandy liquor or ouzo (or orange juice, if you don't want to use alcohol)
1 cup of coarsely chopped roasted almonds
12 cups (1 1/2 kg or 3 1/3 lbs) of all-purpose flour
2 cups of confectioner's sugar (for dusting)
rose water or orange blossom water (about half a cup)

1.Preheat oven to 180°C/350°F/gas mark 4 and line 2 flat baking trays with baking paper.
2.Cream the butter (at room temperature) and sugar in a mixing bowl by hand, until white.
3.Dissolve the baking powder in the brandy/ouzo/orange juice and fold into the mixture, along with the egg yolks, vanilla, and almonds, one by one.
3.Gradually add flour without beating too much.
4.Knead the dough gently by hand until malleable. You don't want to let air escape, as it will contribute to making the cookies fluffy and soft.
5.Rolling the dough on flour-dusted hands (so it doesn't stick) roll the mixture into dome-shaped circles (thick like a pinkie finger). The dough should make about 50pieces. Place them on baking sheet without touching one another (as they will expand while baking).
6.Bake in preheated oven for 20 minutes or until cookies barely turn to golden brown. Get them out of the oven and allow to cool completely.
7.Sift confectioner's sugar onto a large tray or cookie sheet. As soon as the cookies are done, sprinkle them with the rose water or orange blossom water and dust them with the sugar. When all the cookies have been coated once, repeat (without sprinkling them in any liquid this time)cool.
8.Serve them in layers on a serving platter that has been dusted with sugar.

These buttery Greek Shortbread Cookies were also given in weddings and christenings once upon a time, because they look pure white, a symbol of new beginnings. They melt in the mouth and are very soft and fragile, so handle them gently!
Kourabiedes will keep for a couple of months thanks to the sugar if stored in an air-tight container. Make sure there's a dusting of powdered sugar on the bottom of the container, then layer cookies as above, each layer with a covering of sugar. Wait one day after baking to cover with an airtight lid, though.

If you're left with too much uncooked dough, you can wrap it well in plastic wrap, put in the freezer and it will keep for up to two months. When ready to use, remove and let the dough sit a while till malleable. Beat with the mixer briefly to aerate the dough ands you're ready to follow steps 5-8.

Happy Holidays!

Pic of Melomakarona by Steve Brown via taste.com.au, pic of Kourambiedes via dianasdesserts.com

When Magic is not Enough ~L'instant Magic by Guerlain: fragrance review

A caress of flowers and woods… That's how L'instant Magic , a flanker to the original L'instant by Maurice Roucel for Guerlain, was introduced to the public last September. The anticipation was mostly accountable to its being a new Guerlain for the mainstream distribution as opposed to their exclusive boutique scents; a challenging feat. Yet the resulting pastiche leaves something to be desired, highligting the all too painful division between both the glorious delicacy of yesteryear such as Chant d'Arômes but also the brave stance of modern additions such as Insolence.

"After a bergamot opening, the fragrance unveils a musky-floral heart with fresh notes of rose and freesia. The white-musk dry-down worked into a ‘muscinade’ (a wink and a nod to the famous Guerlinade) is warmed up with woods and a touch of almond."
Designed by Randa Hammami of Symrise, in collaboration with Sylvaine Delacourte, artistic director at Guerlain, L'instant Magic launched in September 2007. I had resisted reviewing it for months, because I was hoping that I was oblivious to some hidden charm that would reveal itself to me in a flash of apocalyptic glory when I was least expecting it.
However, with the apostasis of several months and numerous trials, I can safely say that it didn't live up to my expectations. Not to mention that the linguistically schizophrenic name irritates me (shouldn't it have been "Magique" since the rest of it is French?)

The fragrance itself fails to capture me aesthetically, but also on a cerebral level: if one wants an almond gourmand ~as surmised by the marzipan paste detectable after the initial burst of Earl Grey tonalities in L'instant Magic~ one needs to see no further than Hypnotic Poison with its dare and sexy attitude; if one seeks a feminine musky floral with a "clean" feel , then Hammami's Cruel Gardenia is so much better; if the pursuit is instead focused on a smooth woody fragrance for women, then Flower Oriental by Kenzo fits the bill with less pretence and more conviction. L'instant Magic tries to be too many things at once, failing to bring a coherence of vision.
The overall effect is startingly un-Guerlain-like with a sweet, rotten fruits vibe which seems so fashionable right now; but whereas the original L'instant by Roucel ~more or less also separated from the Guerlain tradition~ managed to be nuzzlingly pleasant and addictive to its fans, L'instant Magic is a departure to a destination best forgotten where magic has escaped like a djin who left the bottle long ago.

The bottle reinterprets the curves of the original L’Instant, but the base of the bottle and the surface of the cap are black.
The commercial was directed by Jean Bocheux, featuring rather indecently-clad model Michelle Buswell ascending what seems like a never-ending staircase to who knows where and who cares anyway.



L'instant Magic comes in Eau de Parfum 80ml/2.7oz, 50ml/1.7oz and 30ml/1 fl. oz.; Extrait de parfum bottle 7.5ml/¼ fl.oz, Magical Body Lotion 6.8 fl. oz, Magical Shower Gel 6.8 fl. oz.
Available from major department stores.

Ad pic courtesy of Fragrantica. Clip originally uploaded by MollyPepper1 on Youtube