The Diptyque story began in 1961 Paris at 34 Boulevard Saint-Germain with, at its heart, three friends driven by the same creative passion, who chose a Greek word which means a dual panel painting. Illustration was the very core of the founders, as Christiane Gautrot was an interior designer, Desmond Knox-Leet, a painter, and Yves Coueslant, a theater director and set designer.
From then on, inspired by their Hellenic treks along the Greek peninsula and its mountainous terrain, and from their country cottage on the picturesque Mount Pelion, buried amidst thick fig trees all the way down the sea front, they launched several classics, from Virgilio to Philosykos.
But the brand also presents a later day constellation of contemporary stars, like Eau Duelle and 34 Boulevard St.Germain. Picking just one is an Herculean task. The most sensual in the current rotation however is an easy choice. None other than Fleur de Peau.
Fleur de Peau relies on that rarity of the "musky idea": it harnesses the vegetal musks from angelica archangelica and ambrette seed oil, flanking them with ambrettolide, a macrocyclic musk which shares properties with ambrette seed and aids diffusion and lasting power. Thus the somewhat nutty, with a hint of berry, slightly sweaty and oddly metallic fusion of the properties in those fine musks gains the upper hand and makes Fleur de Peau very sensuous.
Backed up with classic starchy iris, and carrot seed, which aids the earthy, starchy effect, it creates a cocoon of scent on the skin; it's as if the Platonic idea of sensuality has landed on our shores. The delicacy of vegetal musk with the central chord of pink pepper and rose recalls the refinement of Les Exclusifs de Chanel No 18 Chanel, and Musc Nomade Annick Goutal, two other fragrances with ambrette seed oil tucked into their heart of hearts. A quiet sensuality that does not plunge its décolleté low.
Fleur de Peau is soft, tenacious, with a discreet but perceptible sillage, radiant and glorious indeed. One of the better launches by Diptyque in recent years.
Coriandre by Jean Couturier first piqued my interest when I read Susan Irvine's description of it: "fit for a red headed Raymond Chandler heroine". Which means I sorta came late to it, considering Irvine was quoted saying it in her 2000 book. Perfume Shrine has long worshipped at the altar of film noir heroines and their universe and this was like a bowl of cream in front of a hungry kitten: irresistible!
Trying it out on my own skin after years of loving chypre fragrances I was struck by its discretion. Subtle and refined, it didn't speak of the femme fatale so much, but of a patchouli and geranium wreath around roses of a dark red hue, an elegant missile of indoors denotation. Contrary to its name, Coriandre doesn't predominantly smell of coriander (which has a herbaceous scent reminiscent of sweet oranges, lightly spicy), although there is discernible spiciness to it that does not recall the culinary. The green pong of angelica makes it dry and somehow young despite appearances to the contrary.
Jacqueline Couturier
Created in 1973 by Couturier's own wife Jacqueline, who was Grasse-trained and an heir to perfumers, Coriandre was the foundation on which the Couturier Parfums brand was established. Couturier wasn't a budding designer, on the contrary. Having began his career at Saint Laurent, he self-proclaims to have been involved in the development of both Y perfume and Rive Gauche fragrance. Whatever the story is, his wife has indeed worked in the fragrant sector, the daughter and grand-daughter of perfumers, one of the few women in this field at the time.
Coriandre comes in a bottle topped by a green malachite-looking cap, beautifully veined, an image reflected in the packaging. The 1990s slogan was stressing its classy demeanor: Habillez-vous "boutique", parfumez-vous "Couturier" (A playful wordplay on the designer's name, roughly translated as "Dress High Street, but perfume yourself haute couture). Another publicity from the 1970s extolled its mysterious freshness: "all the scents of the evening and already the freshness of the night". And then there is the typically French, typically mischievous -on so many levels- advertisement I have put at the top of this fragrance review, a woman sitting on a chair with her shirt ripped off at the shoulder, tagged "Coriandre, the perfume which makes you question the value of civilization". [whoah? pretty racy, eh?]
If I were head of their advertising department today I'd suggest they stress its uniqueness in a sea of Armanis, Flowerbombs and DKNYs. Little known, but contrary to many classic chypre perfumes's aesthetic not "old fashioned smelling" enough to deter a younger clientele, although it certainly doesn't do any favors to those raised on candy floss scents. This is exactly why I'm including it in my Underrated Perfume Day feature on PerfumeShrine, a regular column highlighting little known but worthwhile fragrances which are still in production, so if you're taking notes, take a note now.
Coriandre by Jean Couturier has been a little surgically enhanced compared to the 1973 vintage (this happened in 1993, circulating as Parfum de toilette), but it didn't involve a complete face-lift which is good news to its acolytes. Consider yourself honored and not humbled to be included in the latter. If you like the original Agent Provocateur eau de parfum in the pink ostrich egg bottle, you have good chances of finding a good companion in Couturier's Coriandre.
Available from newsparfums.com and other etailers for reasonable prices. Careful, there is also Eau de Coriandre, a different scent, not just a different concentration, from 1996.
The thin snowflakes came down the skies unexpectedly early yesterday morning, silk confetti melting softly on the wet streets as a pale sun was shining beneath the fluffy clouds. Maurizio Pollini was touching the clavier on the background in a beloved Polish composer's Nocturnes. The silence was deafening, perfect in its standstill position. It felt like one of those moments when long-eared, soft furred dogs gather their paws, bow down their head and sigh with a mix of contemplative happiness and resignation to the mysteries of the world around them. I was reminded of the tender, contemplative emotions sweeping over me upon discovering Angéliques Sous La Pluie (2000, Editions de Parfums Frédéric Malle) for the first time.
This bitterish and cool fantasy of gin & tonic was pure like a snowflake, tingling at the back of the throat like the cold air of the tundra. Juxtaposed next to the warm spiciness of the carnal Musc Ravageur, the soie sauvage Hitchcockian elegance ofIris Poudreor the camphorous floral lushness of Carnal Flower it seems a breed apart. It's the sort of thing to foreshadow an atmosphere or reflect a mood, rather than a pronouncement on the wearer, never crying for attention.
Angelica is a plant with a nose-tingling essence, peppery in a way like peppercorns are, bracing but less pungent and greener. Perfumer Jean Claude Ellena picked a small bunch of angelica and put it in his pocket after a visit to the garden of fellow perfumer Jean Laporte after the rain. Inspired by this fleeting whiff of the still dewy angelica bouquet, Jean-Claude Ellena's fragrance plays out like a chamber music arrangement. There is the petrichor scent of rain falling on dry earth, a green herbal tonality without moss or grass. One detects the spicy, tonic notes of angelica leaves mixed with some bergamot freshness, juniper berries and citrusy coriander, softened by a hint of musk, soft non sweetened amber and cedar wood. Its deceptive softness is non vanillic. Its prettiness devoid of flowers. There is a hint of violet like in Soivohle's Violets and Rainwater but that's it.
As Malle himself puts it: "Angéliques sous la Pluie is a perfume whose charm stems from the originality of its mix and from the free hand of its author. The perfect balance and fragility of Angéliques sous la Pluie, like the drawing of a great artist, is what makes it so beautiful.
As proof of his great wisdom, the artist knew when to stop before destroying its charm. This first collaboration with Jean-Claude Ellena was thus a lesson in humility".
Angéliques Sous La Pluie is perfectly fit for men or women, lasts on a sostenuto sotto voce, wears as fine in wintertime as it does in the dead of summer and is typical Ellena in style; refined, dry, personal, non condescending, never obvious, worth revisiting to catch new glimpses each time, requiring a mind that is attuned to silence and simplicity of line rather than opulence and clatter. And all the better for it.
Angéliques Sous La Pluie –– "a splash of emotion".
Available as 50ml spray for 140$, 3x10ml travel sprays for 95$, 100ml spray for 195$ on the official Malle site.
Just utter Juniper Sling and find yourself playfully laughing at its jovial, throwback style recalling 1920s London's Bright Young Things consuming gin and recklessly dancing the night away. Indeed "the fragrance that put the ROAR in the 20s" is the new Penhaligon's tag line in their ingenious "mock-umentary" which succeeds their Monty Python-esque previous cartoon film forSartorial(At this pace, I think we also have an advertising phenomenon on our hands!). Sucker for spicy woodies that I am, I find myself enjoying the trail left by it.
Perfumer Olivier Cresp follows in the steps of Jean-Claude Ellena, who in aromatic Angeliques sous la Pluie (by F.Malle) first gave us a gin & tonic potion that is bracing, cool, delightfully dry and decidedly unsweet; like a soldier's memory of a frosty icecle perched on a thatched roof when away fighting malaria in the tropics. Indeed, tonic water was widely embraced by British soldiers away in the belief that quinine treats malaria. And gin had to be mixed in order to take off the especially bitter tang of quinine, so gin & tonic became a long-held tradition. Penhaligon's drew from that precedent and the advent of "bathtub gin" made during the 1920s and they created Juniper Sling, following the recipe of London Dry Gin. The term ’London Dry’ refers to the way in which the spirit is made, as botanicals must be added during the distillation process instead of after.
There is also another Ellena segment fused in the new fragrance, that peppery-woody facet of Poivre Samarkande, exploiting the properties of Iso E Super so pointedly. Juniper Sling unites the two elements (herbal clarity and low-hum woodiness) into a coherent structure and adds a third pillar; a slight vetiver sweetness plus synth woods. Sweet accents in such a composition might throw the whole off (after all, Ellena's compositions withstand so well and possess such clarity exactly because they're unsweet), but the accomplished Cresp holds his own and balances the act in a likeable, not-too-daring style.
Juniper Sling is characteristically laced with angelica and juniper, the herbal qualities allying with spicy notes of a somewhat warmer character (a pepper & pomander accord). The effect is crisp, groomed-clean. Lots of terpenic linalool in the scent exhibits a light floralcy that is spiced up. This is contrasted with sensuality coming from the skin-like effect of a suede accord and from the cardamom; indeed cardamom has amongst spices a most sensuous, skin-like, warm aroma. Essentially traversing a low, soft develpment arc, Juniper Sling retains a low-hum vibrancy on skin, very woody and quite musky (clean musk), that verges on sweeter, more gourmand nuances as time passes; there is a pleasant licorice note surfacing, coming from vetiver. This is not the cold stones & musty roots note in hardcore niche vetivers (see Turtle Vetiver or Vetiver Extraordinaire), but rather the warmish, intimate drydown of Guerlain's Vetiver.
My fragrance testing came from a splash on vial, so the hum was low indeed, therefore I would suggest that in order to capture its full effect and much of the spicy top notes as well, you should opt to test with a spray.
Although technically perfectly unisex, the fragrance might appear more spicy-woody masculine than usual for women who embrace warmer notes (or ultra femme fragrances like Penhaligon's Amaranthine). I for one find it a quietly enjoyable tipple that won't get me drunk, but I would have liked it to be more daring and polished.
Not unintentionally, the launch party given featured a menu consisting of food inspired by the notes of the perfume itself: Kicking off with juniper smoked sea trout (spritzed at the table with an edible Juniper essence!), then onto peppered lamb rump with roasted courgettes (roasted on a BBQ on the roof of the car park!) and finished with black cherry and brown sugar ice cream. (A menu created by Chefs Jon Rotheram, Robin Holmgren, Dave and Shaun).
Two deluxe samples for our readers, answering these questions: 1) What is it that makes you cross/not cross the sex divide in fragrances? 2)Do you have a favourite opposite sex marketed fragrance to wear for yourself? Draw remains open till Tuesday 4th midnight.
Notes for Penhaligon's Juniper Sling:
Top: angelica, cinnamon, orange and juniper berries;
Heart: cardamom, orris root, leather and pepper;
Base: vetiver, cherry and sugar.
Juniper Sling is an Eau de Toilette and is now available to buy online and in all Penhaligon's stores.
photo of Bill Murray and Theresa Russell in the 1984 remake of The Razor's Edge film via photobucket In the interests of disclosure, I sampled the new scent via a promo
I never knew that Dracula was so eloquent in his particular obsession, but apparently he must be: "The human body is totally pervaded by a liquid vital rush that brings us what we are most fond of: Life. Filled with legends and meanings‚ blood is soaked with mystery, fascination and respect: it’s the most tested and studied part of the human body. Hiding the multitude of secrets that reveals our inner and unique way of being. BLOOD Concept is a ceremony devoted to the pulse of life and its visceral boost. It is actually the river of life." Makes your blood curdle, doesn't it; but no, the author isn't Prince Vlad Tepes himself or any of the vampires in the Twilight sage by Stephanie Meyers. It's the ad copy of a new Italian niche fragrance line. Figures.
The concept for Blood fragrances belongs to Giovanni Castelli, a fashion designer and the co-founder of the brand Acqua di Stresa, and Antonio Zuddas, an artist who works in advertising as a copywriter and photographer. They developed the fragrances in collaboration with Apf France in Grasse and the graphics were done by Fabrizio Piras and Giuseppe Porcelli. The concept follows the historical progression of blood type groups through evolution, from the oldest, O, to the newest AB. The scents were officially introduced to the public in Excence exhibition in Milan on March 31st.
Blood Concept fragrances are a brilliant exercise in marketese, as they take as a springboard one of the most influential concepts: that fragrance should suit the wearer. In a much more primeval way this time, not focusing on skin type, hair colour or preferences and associations, but deep within one's blood. Within one's blood group, more like it, as it would be impossible to account for every nuance, like any good microbiologist worth his/her salt would know.
The sample pack came in a scratch & sniff little pocketbook, full of cards with each blood type on the front, scratching surface which releases microcapsules of scent when you drag your nail fingers on it, and the fragrance notes and type of scent (along with a sex demarcation which is unisex, i.e. shared between the sexes) on the back of the cards. The pack reads Compatibility Test. I mean, geez, you have to give it to them! It's as if the scents fuse into your organism and perform some microcosmos ritual. They're careful to say nevertheless that you can test them all and choose whatever speaks to you, regardless of your actual blood type. Phew...I was worried a bit there for a moment!
Perfume O is a unisex leather fragrance, composed of thyme, raspberry, cyperus esculentus, rose hips, leather, birch, cedar wood, and metallic notes.
Perfume A is a unisex aromatic fragrance which includes notes of green garden, tomato leaves, basil, star anise and metallic notes.
Perfume B is a unisex woody spicy composition with red apple and black cherry in the top, artemisia, pepper, pomegranate and black tea in the heart; patchouli, tick wood and metallic notes in the base.
Perfume AB is a unisex mineral composition with aldehydes, aluminium and slate in the top, pebble and aqua in the heart, cedar wood and metallic notes in the base.
The mention of metallic notes isn't that creepy actually (i.e.as in blood, metallic due to iron content). Think of it more in the lines of popular aromachemicals du jour like Ambrox and Iso E Super, which incidentally give a uniform woody aspect as well (to almost each and every one of them, to my nose). I'm not sure if the method of scratch & sniff cards gives an accurate enough imprint of the fragrances; I'm hypothesizing that it's a bit like judging based on scent strips on magazines. They give you a general idea, but you really have to test the juice on skin to make a definite decision. Based on those, nevertheless, I get the feeling that these are fragrances composed around the same more or less principles with minor nuances: they're niche scents, resolutely unisex in their carriage, aimed at people inquisitive to smell something not immediately identifiable (the given notes of even familiar ingredients such as vanilla, apple or basil don't proclaim their presence as such) and they're not aimed to cajole or seduce under any circumstances.
If pressed I'd say that Perfume B is the one I leaned to, it feels less clinical thanks to its spicy bouquet; a bit as if Jean Claude Ellena was on acid, composing at some remote mountain top cabin made of teak wood. Perfume A is also rather interesting, full as it is of the very green smell of tomato stems, a very agreeable aroma. A bit of an historical paradox though, considering solanum lycopersicum's trajectory in time. The rest didn't grab me; maybe I had high expectations from Perfume O as it poses as a leather. It's rather a woody suede and I think we've seen our share of those. Perfume AB seems to contain that weird molecule that is also present in Etat Libre d'Orange Secretions Magnifiques, and resembles most closely what Chandler Burr had referred to as "sink cleanser spilled on an aluminum countertop" (speaking of dihydromyrcenol); think crazied Godzilla lime froth and you're there.
All Blood Concept fragrances are available in dropper bottles of 40 ml; a little bit medicinal and at the same time decadently 19th century vampiric as well.
Photo of Udo Kier in The Blood of Dracula (1974). All other pics by Elena Vosnaki.
Disclosure: I was sent the sample pack by the manufacturer.
Much has been made of Ambre Sultan's resemblance to women's odorata sexualis, the intimate scent of a woman, and although I fail to take this literally, this Serge Lutens perfume is certainly one of arousal. Lovers of this deep, devilishly suave iconoclast of a scent (which doesn't recall any of the powdery, "safe" sweet ambers you might have known before) confirm it.
And if it seems counterintuitive to think of an amber when spring is around the corner, and indeed when Lutens has just launched his newest Jeux de Peau, Ambre Sultan can surprise us; the perfect amber blend for warmer weather, blooming into something more meaningful with each sun ray that hits our hair.
According to fragrance expert Roja Dove ~journalist Hannah Betts quotes him in Let Us Spray~ this is part of a wider trend: "When the Aids epidemic hit, we wanted all the sex washed away, but perfume is returning to its semier side." Amber fragrances in general have something of Eros in them, because they try to recreate an oriental ambience that spells languor, exoticism, opulence, all conductive to a let go of the senses evocative of odalisque paintings by Eugène Delacroix or orientalia scenes by Rudolph Ernst. The most common raw materials for creating an amber "accord" (accord being the combined effect of several ingredients smelling more than the sum of their parts) are: labdanum (resinous substance from Cistus Ladaniferus or "rock rose", possessing a leathery, deep, pungently bitterish smell), benzoin (a balsam from Styrax Tonkiniensis with a sweetish, caramel and vanillic facet) and styrax (resin of Liquidambar Orientalis tree with a scent reminiscent of glue and cinnamon). And most ambers are usually quite sweet or powdery-hazy (particularly those which include opoponax and vanilla) which bring their own element of both comfort (a necessary part in surrendering inhibitions) and desire. Ambre Sultan has a devil may care attitude and the necessary austerity to break loose with all conventions.
The truth in the creation of Lutens's famous opus is different than the rumours, although none the less semiotically erotic. Serge Lutens was simply inspired by his forays into local Marrakech shops, full of interesting knick-knacks and drawers of pungent spices, where precious vegetal ambers are preserved in mysterious-looking jars alongside Spanish Fly. As the polymath Serge divulges: "An amalgam of resins, flowers and spices, these ambers are a praise to women's skin". This was the brief given to perfumer Chris Sheldrake and together they set on to create one of the most emblematic orientals in modern perfumery in 2000.
Interestingly enough, the pungent, sharply herbal opening of Ambre Sultan, full of bay leaf, oregano and myrtle is traditionally thought of as masculine, but it is the rounding of the amber heart via mysterious, exotic resins, patchouli and creamy woods which captures attention irreversibly and lends the scent easily to women as well. The first 10 minutes on skin are highly aromatic, like herbs and weeds roasting under a hot sun on a rocky terrain, with bay and myrtle surfacing mostly on my skin. The effect translates as spicy, but not quite; what the creators of Diptyque must have been thinking when they envisioned their own original herbal fragrances treaking through mount Athos. Next the creamier elements segue, contrasting warmth and cool, fondling the skin and at the same time hinting at an unbridled sensuality. Although Ambre Sultan is a scent I only occassionaly indulge in (preferring the leather undercurrent of Boxeuses or the hay embrace of Chergui and the bittersweet melancholy of Douce Amèrewhen the mood strikes for a Lutensian oriental), probably because it's rather masculine on my skin, I marvel at its technical merits each and every time: the way the creaminess never takes on a powdery aspect and how it's poised on a delicate balance between smoky and musky without fully giving in to either. Much like Lutens is the sultan of artistic niche perfumery, Ambre Sultan is a dangerous fragrance in the pantheon of great orientals that like a possessive sheik will never let you look back...
Lovers of Ambre Sultan might enjoy other dark, non sweet or spicy blends such as Amber Absolute by Christopher Laudemiel for Tom Ford Private Blend, Creed's Ambre Cannelle (whose spice uplifts the skin-like drydown) and I Profumi di Firenze incense-trailing Ambra del Nepal. Those who would love a sweeter amber but still firmly set into the Lutens canon, can try his equally delightful Arabie with its dried figs and pinch of cumin spice.
Ambre Sultan is part of the export line by Serge Lutens, in oblong bottles of 50ml Eau de Parfum, available at select boutiques and online stores such as the Perfume Shoppe.
It wouldn't be an overstatement to claim that Musc Nomade By Annick Goutal is an exceptional piece of perfumery and among musk fragrances it really stands apart, poised between the crossroads of animalic and clean, defined by neither, or -better yet- interpreting both qualities in equal measure to the point you forget about classifications and just revel in its chiaroscuro sensuality. If pressed, I'd say it's a "vegetal musk". And it is.
Musc Nomade (2008) is the fourth addition in the Les Orientalistes line which was introduced with Ambre Fétiche, Myrrhe Ardent and Encens Flamboyant. The inspiration of the scents was said to be the smells of the harem and perfumer Isabelle Doyen masterfully wove in sensuous, denser whiffs in the familiar fabric of gauze that runs through the Goutal brand, thus marrying two antithetical elements: opulence and transparency. Annick Goutal was already enchanted by the sophistication of musc devotees, the Qatar Princesses, who bathed their bodies and hair in a divine blend of musk powder and rose essence, and fragranced their rooms by burningoud wood. She dreamed of capturing the aphrodisiac effect of this material reputed to stir the senses and hold men captivated... Camille Goutal, the next in line after Annick's passing, decided to do an ecological musk and with the help of Isabelle Doyen they defied convention in that they produced a vibrant, lightly "animalic" musk without the use of animal-derived products.
To do that Isabelle Doyen employed Muscone, a very refined -and costly- ingredient which is the odorous principle of natural deer musk, married with the natural macrocyclic musks (see relevant article) present in angelica root (containing 12-methyl-13-tridecanolide and Exaltolide) and ambrette seeds. The artistry lies in manipulating raw materials which are difficult to handle: Angelica root essence is musty, with a note of bitters and the liquid emulsifies in alcohol dilution making the mixture cloudy like a glass of pastis. Nevertheless, Doyen managed to bypass all these problems and the juice is perfectly clear with an aromatic top note that singes the nose hairs most delightfully the way a good gin does, to unfold later on a dirty, pleasantly "skanky" ambience that recalls the smooth fur of Muscs Kublai Khan by Lutens and the cozy sex-on-the-haystack feel of L'Air de Rien by Miller Harris.
Smelling Musc Nomade you're left with the impression that it is topless; in both senses of the word: It feels natural, bien dans sa peau, quite nude, and at the same time like it misses those frills routinely put in to jolt the customer into paying attention. On the contrary, Musc Nomade insinuates like a murmur in the ear late at night or minimalist tunes on harmonics-series instruments. The rosiness (reminiscent of the Lutens floralcy in his own musk oeuvre) is an illusion rendered through the facets of Bombay wood, furling and unfurling thanks to a herbal-sweet note like patchouli. Musc Nomade is individual and defies any familiarity one has of drugstore musks, eschewing the sweet vanilla and sandalwood warmth for the "dirtiness" of labdanum, an almost animalic plant raw material, and for a woody backdrop that is very appealing and fit for both sexes. It can be layered effortlessly under the other Orientalistes scents in the collection or practically under any other fragrance. Its individual character and unassuming sensuality put it in my top 5 choices for musk fragrances.
For our readers, a draw for a decant of Musc Nomade! Leave a comment to enter. Draw open till Sunday midnight.
Notes for Annick Goutal Musc Nomade: Muscone, white musk stemming from angelica root and ambrette seed, tonka beans, labdanum, Bombay wood (a papyrus variety)
Musc Nomade circulates in Eau de Parfum concentration in two bottle designs (depicted) with exactly the same scent (same as with all the Orientalistes!): One is the feminine ribbed bottle, the other the sleek rectangular masculine one with gold accents. I personally find the somber lines of the masculine design with the lovely arabesque motifs in the labels more fitting this line of enigmatic scents.
The inconcistency between name and scent is probably an intended characteristic of the boutique exclusive L'Art et la Matière line by Guerlain, as discussed before in the Cruel Gardénia (a scent that smells nothing like gardenias really) and Rose Barbarereviews, because Angélique Noire (Black Angelica) is certainly not noire, at least not in the manner of which we have been thinking of, courtesy of the Golden era of Hollywood. The grotesque look of Gloria Swanson in Sunset Boulevard that simply screamed for its daily dose of Caron’s sumptuous Narcisse Noir as a talisman against mediocrity and decline is nowhere to be found.
There is a historic factoid that might be a piquant reference: A black slave by the apt name Marie Joseph Angélique was a personage in the history of Montreal, accused of being the incendiary of the 1734 episodes; someone suited to the scent of Angelique Noire? Far from such upheaval and restlessness or the promise of fallen angels, here we are dealing with a pre-Raphaelite Madonna with curly hair and silky robes that is lost in mystical reverie over the impending Nativity or a post-romantic painting by Waterhouse; carte-postale style in both cases: somehow too pretty for a truly striking effect!
Created by nose Daniela Roche-Andrier in 2005 for the renovation of the flagship store at 68, Avenue Champs Elysées, the Guerlain brief for Angélique Noire went something like this: "A composition based on angelica, weed known to be an elixir promoting longetivity. The bergamot and angelica notes are fresh, vibrant and slightly bitter. They contrast with the sophisticated fullness of the vanilla”. The core of the perfume is undoubtedly the pairing of bergamot and vanilla which in Guerlain terms would translate as musky, troubling Shalimar, surely. Or Shalimar Eau Légère/Shalimar Light, modern-style, even! But this is a Guerlain through non-Guerlain eyes, ergo the treatment is completely different. Angélique Noire is a sweet oeuvre of pleasant and cherubic notes, full of the tart juice of bergamot and toiling harvesters eager to gather crops as it opens with the tangy and difficult to obtain angelica, garlanded with a spicy touch enough to intrigue; this phase is quite suited to both sexes in fact. Later it cedes to a soft heart of milky-almondy haziness and drying down to ever persistent, creamy vanilla. Angélique Noire is not especially reminiscent of any of the Loukhoum scents (Serge Lutens, Keiko Mecheri) that feature some of the same notes nevertheless, nor is it laced with aromatic nuances as one would except from a fragrance named and inspired by angelica. Guerlain has based its reputation on the quality of its vanilla and it always features in one way or another in their perfumes, usually along with tonka bean. This is no exception. I don’t know if angelica is supposed to prolong life in humans really, and how that could be a good thing in a world that despises old age, but the fragrance lasts very well (which is a blessing or a curse depending on what you think of it).
Notes for Angélique Noire by Guerlain: Angelica, bergamot, vanilla
Angélique Noire forms part of the L'Art et la Matière line sold exclusively at boutiques Guerlain and the Guerlain espace at Begdrof Goodman, in tall architectural bottles with the name on the side in a wide golden "band" and an optional bulb atomiser included (My advice on those is not to leave them attached on the bottle as they allow evaporation of the juice).
In our investigation of how absinthe has inspired artists, writers,as well as filmmakers, we must return to the art of perfumery with its vast ability to evoke reminiscences. Many fragrances have drawn upon la fée verte in recent years and its herbal constituents: wormwood or artemisia and aniseed, as well as its perceived aromas like liquorice and angelica.
Perfume Shrine has tried to organise the chaos and provide a list of scents with the corresponding notes.
Scents with Wormwood/Artemisia:
*Absinthe by Grandiflorum Fragrances: Largely redolent of offbeat anise, with orangey-boozy and woody notes accented with vanilla later on to soothe and appease, it's as if you're reading Poe by a woodfire cuddled up with a loved on to chase away the nightmares afterwards. Certainly not the most authentic absinthe fragrance around, but very wearable.
*Absolument Absinthe by Parfums d'Interdit: Absolument Absinthe has not one but two ingredients with mysterious and whispered about reputations. Cannabis is the second...Together with inky black tea, tangy bergamot, and the bracing note of Iranian galbanum, various white florals and spices such as nutmeg and cardamom, it deepens on sandalwood and musks sustaining its soft message on the skin for a long time. It's claimed that it conforms according to individual personal chemistry, but since I haven't found a willing speciment to try this theory out I can't proclaim its truth or fallacy. Tripy, if only because you want it to.
Here is Pascal Rolland courtesy of dabbler.ca talking about it:
*Absinthe by BPAL (Black Phoenix Alchemy Lab) : In this cult brand's inventory every little dark and gothic tale finds its narrator through the acocmpanying "imp" (short for sample in BPAL lingo). With such great names as Thanatopsis (the look of death in Greek), Golden Priapus, Enraged Urangutang Musk (!), The Pit and the Pendulum, Nosferatu or Saturnalia (after the Roman celebration) and the corresponding Bacchanalia, they have created a very weird and compelling niche; no less accountable for which is their site with a very active forum. Absinthe is intensely liquorice-like, with a metallic minty top and a soapy drydown that fades fast. Notes: wormwood essence, light mints, cardamom, anise, hyssop, and the barest hint of lemon.
*Absinth by Nasomatto : like I had said when the line launched, this is a wonderful fragrance full of bittersweet notes of herbs, earthy pungent vetiver, possibly angelica or wormwood and some sweet element of vanillic florancy in there that accounts for the most delectable semi-gourmand effect possible. If this is how a modern aromatic gourmand should be made, then I'm all for it.
*Azurée by Estée Lauder : With its rather masculine edge despite its feminine gardenia aspirations, submerged into deceptive aldehydes or cyclamen and jasmine aromas, it opens on dark, musty oakmoss that grabs you and makes you pay attention. In a way though its leatheriness does not possess the striking green slap-across-the-cheek of Bandit or the smooth caress of a gloved hand that is Diorling; resulting in diminished revenue in today’s currency.
*Black Fig and Absinthe by Slatkin (nose Christophe Laudamier) : The treatment of figs is dark, gloomy and surupy like dried fruits smoked over for preservation during the winter months and surely an anomaly amidst usually green fig scents. Quite loud in its fruitiness but underscored by elegant, cool incense and dark wormwood to compliment the intese liquorice effect that first surfaced in Lolita Lempicka. Never too sweet and incidentally Harry Slatkin's preference from the whole line.
*Absinthe by Ava Luxe (nose Serena Ava Franco): a viciously green liquid that might stain your clothes, smelling remarkably close to the alcoholic spirit with a deep, dry anise drydown.
*Absinth by Nasomatto : like I had said when the line launched, this is a wonderful fragrance full of bittersweet notes of herbs, earthy pungent vetiver, possibly angelica or wormwood and some sweet element of vanillic florancy in there that accounts for the most delectable semi-gourmand effect possible. If this is how a modern aromatic gourmand should be made, then I'm all for it.
*Aromatics Elixir by Clinique (nose Bernand Chant): a mossy intense rosy composition that has a bitter beginning redolent of the wormwood plant. I dearly love to basque in its sillage when smelling it on passerbys.
*Azurée by Estée Lauder : With its rather masculine edge despite its feminine gardenia aspirations, submerged into deceptive aldehydes or cyclamen and jasmine aromas, it opens on dark, musty oakmoss that grabs you and makes you pay attention. In a way though its leatheriness does not possess the striking green slap-across-the-cheek of Bandit or the smooth caress of a gloved hand that is Diorling; resulting in diminished revenue in today’s currency.
*Bandit by Piguet (nose Germain Cellier): an archetypal leathery chypre, with the stunning start of emerald artemisia with equally pungently green isobutyl quinoline, a scent to cut your way through a crowd.
*Biche dans L'Absinthe by Gobin Daudé (nose Gobin Daudé) : part of the discontinued natural line by the homonymous perfumer, it is considered the uber-marvel of green scents. It's such a pity that such wonderful creations succumb to the crass marketing laws of commerce. Rarely seen on Ebay and fetching a pretty penny when it does. Don't miss it if you do find it.
*Déclaration by Cartier (nose Jean Claude Ellena): more of a spicy cardamom and cumin affair of refined refereshement than a jade-shaded liquid to make you feel anything but jaded, it nevertheless vibrates in the frequency of a slightly bitter wormwood accord. Delicious and probably one of my highest recommended masculines (or rather unisex) fragrances of modern perfumery. It has been singled out by Ellena himself as the creation he's most proud of , along with First (although this has been a few years ago, on Scented Pages, so we couldn't possibly exclude that a more recent specimen hasn't usurped that position)
*Douce Amère by Serge Lutens (nose Chris Sheldrake): a bittersweet harmony etched in opaline, singing in a warm contralto, curiously not as popular as others in the export line. It merits its own review shortly, so stay tuned.
*Fou d'Absinthe by L'artisan : a masculine fougère vaguely reminiscent of Paco Rabanne pour Homme with a resinous touch allied to woods. Not remarakably absinth-y and although I am a L'artisan fan I'd rather settle for Timbuktu if I wanted a unisex woody mix with resin and spice.
*Geisha Green by Aroma M: According to the creator of the line Maria McElroy who had the subtle sensibility of Japanese incense in her mind, this is an oil with a key aroma of absinthe, the tart, licorice-flavored liqueur. Here the composition os gently sweetened with black currant, mandarin, and violet, and softened with amber and tonka bean.
*Ivoire by Balmain: classic soapy aldehydic of relatively recent crop (1980) with so much primness that it passes for elegance. Its loveliest trait for me is the mossiness at the base which elevates from a mere soapy floral of chamomile, violet, rose and liluy of the valley. Very subtle wormwood touch, but worth including for a glimpse into the Id.
*JF by Floris: Another aromatic fougere for men. Supposedly named after the founder Juan amenias Floris, who was a Spaniard setting up shop in London , although the brand brandishes its British tradition like a coat of arms. Armoise (which is another name for wormwood shrub) is mixed with cypress. Overall light and fresh, with a mixed citrus top note, but rather simplistic.
*Panamé by Keiko Mecheri: No relation to Patou's Pan Ame, which sounds like an airline company. Reminiscent of pastis, an anisic based liqueur, with a soothing undertone of powdery musks, which isn't particulalrly distinctive. Similar to Douce Amere, but not as successfully executed.
*Soothing Aromaparfum in Aroma Allegoria line by Guerlain: A lesser known little line within the brand is Aroma Allegoria, three fragrances in an effort to combine aromatherapy with the heritage of a perfumery that went after the lush and luscious regardless of botanical properties. So it has been understandably circulating under the radar and eventually discontinued. Some might have considered it hubris to aim in that direction. They might have been right all along. Soothing Aromaparfum has a predominent linden accord backed with vanillic musk and a touch of wormwood to keep things interesting and despite its inclusion in this offbeat list, it does smell quite tender and cuddly.
*Wormwood by BPAL : From the company who loves to lay their hands on everything forbidden, here comes the bitter heart of absinthe as an almost single note. It will provide interesting fodder for conversation if anyone asks, that's certain.
Scents with pronounced angelica:
*Angéliques sous la pluie by Frederic Malle (nose Jean Claude Ellena): rained upon angelicas is the name and the feeling is that of a gin and tonic on the rocks ~deliciously cool and bitter with a refreshing edge just like a cocktail after a hard day
*Angélique Encens by Creed: perhaps the best offering by Creed. Built around the dark green of the strange angelica plant, the harsh green of it tied to Chartreuse it blends the mysterious tonality of incense to the herbal managing to smell like neither ~rather a vanillic wonder of subtle shades like a devoré velvet cloak on naked feminine shoulders.
*Angélique Lilas in Aqua Allegoria line by Guerlain: A true lilac note in fragrance is one of the most elusive things for an avid perfume lover. Here there is a smidgeon of a good approximation sometime into the development of a slightly bitter opening that adds interest, with the shrill addition of the dreaded Calone (synthetic acqueous melon note). If only I could isolate the really good part!
*Angélique Noire by Guerlain (nose Danièle Andrier): As I had previously noted, not particularly "noire", nor particularly angelica-rich, "we are dealing with a pre-Raphaelite Madonna with curly hair and silky robes that is lost in mystical reverie over the impending Nativity or a post-romantic painting by Waterhouse". Angélique Noire fuses the backdrop of a sweetish, oily accord of citrus and vanilla with a rather bitter beginning; the whole is quite pleasant if not the zenith point of the boutique Guerlain perfumes.
To be continued with fragrances focusing on anise and the often mixed-up star anise.
Painting Jeune Fille Verte by Tamara de Lempicka courtesy of eu.art.com and Biche by Greek painter Parthenis courtesy of eikastikon.gr. Clip originally uploaded by dabblerDOTca on Youtube.
One might wonder what a picture of the Austrian actor Helmut Berger has to do with the legendary perfume commissioned by Marlene Dietrich to the house of Creed, Angélique Encens. And yet there is an unmistakable connection.
As is often the case with Perfume Shrine, obsessions take on many forms, one of which is cinematic. Helmut Berger, né Helmut Steinberger in Salzburg, Austria in 1944 was director Luchino Visconti’s preferred actor and also partner for the length of Viconti’s last 12 years of life.
In the latter’s magnum opus “The Damned” (also featuring a very young Charlotte Rambling, another one of Perfume Shrine's fixations; the film is originally named “La Caduta degli dei”, meaning Fall of the Gods, and has influenced both “Cabaret” and The Night Porter artistically) he plays the role of Martin Von Essenbeck, black sheep of a rich family of pre-WWII steel industrialists, marxistically scrutinized in their entrapment into the Nazi rise and their role in history as they first resented Adolph Hitler, then accepted him, and at last embraced him.
His memorable tour de force as an immature, closet pedophile, perverse son to the unscrupulous arch-mother of the dynasty included a priceless segment in which he reprises the role of Marlene Dietrich in Josef von Sternberg's Blue Angel , her classic film of fatal seduction, for the delectation of family viewers.
The sight is compelling, disturbing and alarming to watch as real-life bisexual Berger, dressed in transvestite attire, down to the hat and stockings of Marlene, performs a dance and song at the beginning of the film.
Angélique Encens has an uncanny way of reminding me of that performance in its haunting quality. Created in 1933 by the house of Creed it ties in with the background of the byzantine plot of the film as well, which contributes to my fixation. Apart from Marlene Dietrich, less mysterious Marie Osmond is a great fan as well, which is perhaps something you were better off not knowing, if you recall the cute image of the latter from 70’s shows.
Today the fragrance is part of the Private Collection, a collection of scents by famous patrons, which basically translates as very expensive and hard to get perfumes, if only because they come in truly huge bottles of 250, 500 or 1000ml. That’s a lot of jus! Enough to bathe in it literally. Luckily my sources are more cunning than that and I was able to procure a "decant", perfume-talk for a small quantity taken from someone’s larger bottle; naturally at a more reasonable price than that for the entire bottle.
Although Angélique Encens was created for a woman -albeit a woman that proved to be an icon for homosexuals for so long, still to this day- I can see it effortlessly worn by discerning and adventurous men, even if they do not share Berger’s sensibilities.
Built around the dark green of the strange angelica plant, the harsh green of it tied to Chartreuse , here it couples it with sensuous vanilla and incense. Angélique Encens is an anomaly in the house of Creed, because it lacks the shrill metallic note that most of the other offerings possess; sometimes to their detriment (Spring Flower), other times to their advantage (Silver Mountain Mist). Instead it is smooth and rich from the very start, which makes for an orientalised feeling right away. The vanilla shows itself through from the very beginning. It’s as if one has taken the peeled black pods and immersed them in a seemingly innocent beverage quickly under the table, adding dashes of alcohol; some person who is trying to hide the darker side of an addiction with a wide smile, seemingly appreciative of all your jokes and ramblings but with a too bright, crazy eye.
The inclusion of carnal tuberose takes an unexpected turn that astonishes with its intricacy and pairing with the herbal aspects, as it only reveals itself sporadically at the mid phase of the development of the glorious bouquet. Each unfolding stage is a wonder of velvet plush and baroque that entraps you in its spin of strange twisted comfort (an oxymoron if there ever were one). The inclusion of ambergris and unidentified precious wood and resins makes the perfume mysterious and mesmerizing, completely fit for the colder season, just like The Nutcracker Suite by Tchaikovsky is too. A little childish amusement, a lot of dark russian soul. The final drydown of vanilla and amber lingers on and on and on, making us doubt our ability to disentangle ourselves from our obsessions.
Official notes: angelica, tuberose, amber, incense and vanilla
Available from Bergdorf Goodman in the US, Les Senteurs and Escentual.co.uk (later by phone or mail order only and not on-line)
Mail info@escentual.co.uk or call 02920 437343 (shop: 63-67 Wellfield Road, Cardiff, UK)
Top pic of Helmut Berger courtesy of Robinson Archive. Pic of Visconti's "The Damned" DVD jacket from Wikipedia.
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