Penhaligon's The inimitable William Penhaligon: fragrance review

 Many of the original scents created by William Penhaligon were modernized and re-introduced as part of the Anthology Collection. The company maintains its commitment to fine, traditional perfume ingredients and techniques. The bottles for Penhaligon's scents are based on William Penhaligon's original design—clear glass and adorned with a ribbon.

pic via

This emblematic heritage is of course something most niche brands, even those proclaiming historical roots, cannot match. It was therefore expected that the company would sooner or later reference the patriarch himself. And so they did, with the newest fragrance, The Inimitable William Penhaligon.

With an above-average lasting power but a rather moderate sillage, the spicy-woody scent of The Inimitable William Penhaligon captures easily one's affections, as it's agreeable by most. For that reason it might seem a bit tame, for those expecting something flamboyant and domineering. Nevertheless, true to form, the scents of the aristocracy itself have never been very loud, as there is no raison d'être for them to be; their calling card is their, well, actual calling card.

The actual scent of The Inimitable William Penhaligon is well-mannered, sociable, milky with its lactonic heart of sandalwood and fig, and the more it stays on, the more pronounced this serene milkiness becomes. If I were to use one word it would be snugly. What I find most interesting is an unexpected green-milky slice in the middle, like that of a fig leaf erupting amidst the vetiver, with the sandalwood's soft qualities soon emerging over the greenness.

The company insists on calling it a vetiver scent, first and foremost, and the deep green liquid inside the bottle might indeed account for expectations of a bracing, pungent scent. But let me assure you this might ease its way into Vetivers for Vetiver-phobics effortlessly, as it lacks the dirty inclinations of vetiver oil and instead opts for a bright, bittersweet opening that quickly segues into the plush of the salon. There is also no discernible incense for the incense-phobics, so approach comfortably, as if you were to be greeted into a cedarwood-clad boutique. Mellow, soft, and silky, really.

Comfortable, sweetish on the drydown, and warm, The Inimitable William Penhaligon could easily be snatched out of the hands of your beloved man and sprayed with gusto onto yourself, dear female reader. Yes, most brands advertise as unisex these days, but it's not always the case; this one is effortlessly borrowed by either sex and projects quite classy at all times.

Related reading on PerfumeShrine: 

Penhaligon's fragrances reviews & news

Lactonic scents: what does it even mean?

Perfumery Material Fig: Between Green Woody and Succulent

Top Vetiver Fragrances

Diptyque Philosykos: fragrance review

For reasons not very difficult to parse Diptyque's Philosykos is one of my favorite summer perfumes and any time I want to be eased into a warm weather reverie that comes replete with siestas under a generously shady tree and the smell of its dusty foliage and warm, solidly dependable bark, I reach out my hand for it. The idea of spraying Philosykos on one's self is of course synonymous with the elation conferred upon thee on a hot summer's day. But one trip to rainy Ulm, Germany, convinced me of the unsung merits of Diptyque's iconic fragrance at times of melancholy as well.

via

Right when the weather was gloomy over the muddy Danube, when the downcast skies of lead threatened with more rain and more desperation of the particular kind that an endless Sunday afternoon cooped up in a small room spells out, I reached in my handbag for olfactory solace. Restricted from airport travel regulations my stash regretably had to remain back home: frustration! But a couple of trusty solids had piggybacked themselves, stacked upon each other. Among them Philosykos, the lover of figs.

And lo and behold, an ordinary yet scenic scenery, like that in mount Pelion which inspired it, unfolded beneath my eyes upon it melting on my wrists. A stone-built cottage with grey-taupe stone roof tiles shimmering in the scorching August sun. A tiny cistern with a bucket going down for watering and the cicadas singing incessantly in the still of noon. The sweetish mix of dust, earth, milky coconut odour off the barks, crackling and oozing fragrant resin, and two small children running down the slope to the boardwalk towards the sea. "Wait for me Alexander! Just wait!"

It's home away from home.

L'Artisan Parfumeur Premier Figuier: fragrance review & history

Composed by perfumer Olivia Giacobetti exactly 20 years ago in 1994, Premier Figuier still remains one of the very best out there, conjuring a vivid image of late August days spent in the Greek countryside when cicadas are loudly singing at the scorching hour of noon and people hot and weary from a sea dip are sitting beneath the shade of the fig tree to enjoy their Spartan meal of fresh fruit and cool, still water. The coconut curls note is rounding the foliage with just the right sweetness and provides an euphoric touch.

via behance.net

Giacobetti in an unstoppable strain of fig-producing mode, went on to create an Eau de Parfum version to the best-selling Premier Figuier, baptized Premier Figuier Extreme (2004), highlighting the rounder elements and extending its stay. She also created Philosykos for Diptyque, two years after her seminal "first fig tree" for L'Artisan. Philosykos, the friend of figs.

The re-creation of the smell of fig trees in perfumery is possible thanks to two crucial ingredients: stemone and octalactone gamma. Stemone (Givaudan tradename) imparts a green, fresh tonality like mint that combined with octalactone gamma (prune-like) evokes the earthy, sticky green of fig leaves (a smell of dry earth, scorched by the sun of a hot place with a hint of bitterness) and the milky sap of the young fruit plus the acid green of galbanum. The always handy Hedione (a fresh jasmine note, Firmenich tradename) and Iso-E Super (a dynamic and shape-shifting woody synthetic, IFF tradename) are often utilized to bring “lift” to the genre. The coconut note is an important part, not because it imparts a tropical feel (figs grow in the temperate zone) but because the young fruit sap contains a sensitizing "milk," a lactonic note. Coconut is also lactonic, i.e. milky in nature, hence the inclusion more realistically brings to mind the fig tree burdened with its succulent-to-be load. The milky note isn't a random thing, nor has it escaped attention through the ages. The classical Greek writer Athenaeus of Naucratis writes in Deipnosophistae how rural populations were making cheese out of milk by curdling it using the twigs and leaves of the fig tree. It is even described in Homer's Iliad!

via pinterest

It's not decided whether Giacobetti was intimate with this bit of classical knowledge when she added a milky, butyric note into the green woody skeleton. All I know is that in Premier Figuier it was crucial that the tempering of bitterness (naturally occurring in the fig leaf itself, smelled best when crushed between the fingers) with the sweetish milky note is done just right! The effect is not too dissimilar to an apricot (another lactonic note in fragrance) run under fresh water and opened in two halves in a cool yard. While wearing Premier Figuier I am often reminded of this little fact as I receive compliments on the "apricot scent" on me… :-)

Philosykos by Diptyque: The Hellenic Inspiration ~History & Mythos

Greece 16 August 1990

"We’re exploring the country from top to bottom, by car, bus, boat and foot! The landscapes are like nothing we’ve seen before. The mountains resemble wild animals like lions, or tigers, with their long, uninterrupted, muscular lines. Sometimes, the world of myths and all-powerful gods seems to loom up before us, like at the Acropolis. This country is totally fascinating!!

After all that sightseeing, we’ve finally found our favourite spot, mount Pelion! Here, in a remote village called Milies, surrounded by countryside that is barren in parts, lush and fertile in others, dotted with huge waterfalls, we’ve decided to stay for the rest of the summer, and let time stand still. I’ve sketched the village square for you, to give you an idea of where we are.

via

Every day, to reach the sea, we walk through groves where wild fig trees grow. Heated by the sun, they give off an intense fragrance. I’ve made you a box of souvenirs from this wonderful trip that is coming to an end, so you can share it with us. I’ve put in it a dried leaf from one of the magnificent fig trees, as well as a piece of marble from the Acropolis, a bit of pottery from Mycenae."

Yves Coueslant and Desmond Knox-Leet, two of Diptyque's three founders, were keen travelers. After countless expeditions, they found at last their favorite spot, what Desmond called "the landscape of the soul": Mount Pelion.

On this Mount Pelion, at Melies in Thessalia, they rented a holiday house four years in succession. To reach the sea every day they would walk through a grove of wild fig trees, heated by the burning sun…And thus Diptyque Philosykos and Figuier scented candle came to be.

If I showed you pictures of my younger days as a carefree student you'd be hard to miss one with me showing my teeth and claws in a mock threatening mood under a shrubby fig tree that almost engulfed me in its tentacles. This isn't unusual; we're talking Greece, the land of chaotic vegetation where vegetable patch borders and garden beds are almost unheard of and you'd be hard pressed to find something reminiscent of the ultra-artificial structure of a French style formal garden by André Le Nôtre. The philosophical clash of order over nature and of classical creation myths which place value in the spermatic possibilities ad infinitum is reflected in this small issue.
But the fig itself is antithetical to the northern climes which bred Schopenhauer and Le Spleen de Paris. Dusty or glossy, bitter or sweetish and hazy or succulent, the varied universe of fig scents is winking at us to impart of the joys of the here and now before more sinister thoughts detach us from sensual pleasures. And sensual pleasures are everywhere under the Mediterranean sun where figs are consumed by the kilo, routinely ending a meal with the accompaniment of many savory and creamy cheeses or cooked alongside pork or lamb or even…fish!

fish wrapped in fig leaves by Penny de los Santos for Saveur, borrowed for educational purposes from here

Dried, candied figs are still sold throughout the Middle East and the Eastern Mediterranean as a delicacy that harkens back to antiquity. Such was the importance placed on them that in classical Athens (a significant trade center for figs) the term sycophant/συκοφάντης (literally “revealer of figs”) was coined for those who snitched on the poachers of figs. As the practice of stealing the fruit was both illegal and highly frowned upon~fig groves being sacred as well as a trade vantage point for city-state Athens~ the practice soon took on a more sinister nuance: If someone had a vendetta against their neighbor they often resorted to blaming them for fig poaching! Thus the word “sycophant” earned a negative and more generalized meaning, that of "lying snitch," a meaning it still retains in Greek! Centuries later the word acquired a different meaning in English (that of "lowly flatterer"), but its etymology reminds us that the natural world surrounding us is not without importance even in such prosaic things as words.

The sharp, bitter green of the leaf contrasts with the milky, creamy touch of the sap of the fruit and the wood of the bark in Philosykos. The coconut note is an important part, not because it imparts a tropical feel (figs grow in the temperate zone) but because the young fruit sap contains a sensitizing "milk," a lactonic note. Coconut is also lactonic, i.e. milky-smelling in nature, hence the inclusion more realistically brings to mind the fig tree burdened with its succulent-to-be load. The milky note isn't a random thing, nor has it escaped attention through the ages. The classical Greek writer Athenaeus of Naucratis writes in Deipnosophistae how rural populations were making cheese out of milk by curdling it using the twigs and leaves of the fig tree. It is even described in Homer's Iliad!

For all those reasons Philosykos is very dear to me and I was overjoyed to see this beautiful homage to this truly iconic fragrance.

See the presentation/sketches/photos on this link .

Desmond Knox Leet sketch for Diptyque Philosykos

Rouge Bunny Rouge Chatoyant, Vespers, Lilt: fragrance reviews

I had promised you in my Best of 2012 in Perfume & Style recap late last year that I would return with my views on the very new Rouge Bunny Rouge fragrances, because they're quite promising for a make-up brand. Indeed, the cultish brand -known for excellent products with a fairy-tale sprinkling- doesn't disappoint in delivering credible jus despite the hyperbolic ad copy on the site.  All three of their fragrances, Chatoyant, Vespers and Lilt, wear well and convey attention to detail. They might not instigate wilder fantasies of some of the Lutens, but they don't smell like the chemical mess of many contemporary mainstreams either, straddling in fact a few tropes of niche (the fig scents) and clutching onto a few of the modern classics' strings too (the Narciso-begat "nouveau chypres"). All in all, not bad at all!

Source: google.com via Kristi on Pinterest

Instantly attractive, Chatoyant is a rich blend with a mix of floral, woody and fruity aromas that draw attention and at the same time glow with the sweet attraction of brocade in warm shades. The creamy core of Chatoyant, lightly vanillic, creamily woody with a discernible coconut touch, seemingly composed of lactonic (from the Latin for milk) notes, makes it a lightly sweet mantle, an aura on top of one's being, what the French call à fleur de peau. The rich rosiness smooths the composition, giving the other floral impressions, notably the powdery orchid "note" something to adhere to.

The creamy and yet bitterish fig leaves and milky sap impression of Lilt is tender and green, a fantasy of shaded moments of tranquility, of human skin, of repose, of calm. Fig scents are one of my favorite genres for several reasons. Their reference speaks to the Mediterranean in me with the pang of sweet nostalgia, the promise of an eternal summer, of careless days spent under the shady solace of the fig tree which these fragrances recreate with almost photorealistic accuracy. The apricot-y, coconut-y nuances are lightly sweet in nature and their creaminess makes them extremely simpatico to the natural scent of human skin, which is rich in apocrine glands partly exuding a comparable aroma. The intimacy of the serene woodiness of Lilt, peppered by the more angular notes of the fig leaves with their dusty, citrusy tang and indelible bitterness, is wrapped in other skin-compatible notes such as musk.

The cool, elegant sex-appeal of Vespers reminds me of the shimmering beauty of Narciso for Her. The intensely musky woodiness at the heart of this fragrance is only momentarily obscured by the lightly peppered bouquet of abstract, indefinable flowers opening under the snow. The juxtaposition of cool and warm notes, with the austerity of pencil shavings and the fuzz of Cashmeran, is the secret behind this scents' lure. As a dedicated fan of the genre it wasn't difficult for me to like Vespers and if you're a fan of fragrances like Narciso, SJP Lovely, Lanvin Rumeur, or Guerlain Idylle, with their marrying a floral note (like rose, orange blossom or lily of the valley) that is clear and crystalline with the woody sweetness of a non-heady patchouli, chances are you might like this one too; it's within those parameters without smelling exactly the same.

Source: beautyhabit.com via Teresa on Pinterest

Alas, it has been rather difficult to access longevity and sillage in the Fragrant Confections line, as the amount I received for reviewing purposes was either so tiny or it had significantly evaporated in transit, that it only allowed me to test these for a single wearing. The cards sprayed with the fragrances however did retain the scent for days (though you realize we're not made out of paper.)

All Rouge Bunny Rouge fragrances are available on the official site. I believe Zuneta in the UK might cater (if they don't already) to those who are not covered by the shipping by the brand directly.

In the interests of disclosure I was sent samples via PR.

Perfumery Material: Fig, Between Woody and Succulent

The scent of figs is amazing and unique among fruits; succulent, juicy, milky sap green with a bitter edge when unripe. Pairing a few slices of prosciutto with fresh figs and grapes is an exercise in pure hedonism...But apart from the quality of the fruit, the ambience of the whole tree, the crisp verdancy with the almost fuzzy leaves, the nubile bitter stems, the tough bark and the resinous freshness of the sap, its shade and all, is a major constituent to its charms. It's not hard to imagine how one would long to capture that summer solace from the scorching sun of the Mediterranean in a fragrance to put on in the darker days of autumn to evoke summery pleasures. Or how the fig leaf has retained an added sensuality thanks to its traditional imagery of hiding many a pudenda in art. Dusty or glossy, bitter or sweetish and hazy or succulent, the varied universe of fig fragrances is winking at us to impart of the joys of the here and now before more sinister thoughts detach us from sensual pleasures.

via flickr.com/photos/xerones (some rights reserved)

Fig in Perfumery: How to Synthesize a Fig Note 

 The recreation of the smell of fig trees in perfumery is possible thanks to two crucial ingredients: stemone and octalactone gamma. Stemone (Givaudan tradename) imparts a green, fresh tonality like mint that combined with octalactone gamma (prune-like) evokes the earthy, sticky green of fig leaves (a smell of dry earth, scorched by the sun of a hot place with a hint of bitterness) and the milky sap of the young fruit. The always handy Hedione (a fresh jasmine note, Firmenich tradename) and Iso-E Super (a dynamic and shape-shifting woody synthetic, IFF tradename) are often utilized to bring “lift” to the genre.

 The best fig-centered fragrances balance the warmer and cooler tonalities and recreate the ambience of sitting under the shady branches while breaking open the naughtily-shaped fruit: likened to male genitalia when whole and female ones when cut into halves, figs are an evocative fruit in more sensual ways than one. Could that be one of the reasons the voluptuous Christina Hendricks loves a particular fig scent so much?

via kapuciner.blogspot.com

Fig Fragrances: The Historical Milestones 

The first soli-fig fragrance was Premier Figuier (meaning “first fig tree”) stating its innovation at hello, launched by L’Artisan Parfumeur and composed by perfumer Olivia Giacobetti. Still one of the very best out there, it conjures a vivid image of late August days spent in the Greek countryside when cicadas are loudly singing around at the scorching hour of noon and people hot and weary from a sea dip are sitting beneath the shade of the fig tree to enjoy their Spartan meal of fresh fruit and cool still water. The coconut curls note is rounding the foliage with just the right sweetness and provides a euphoric touch.

Olivia Giacobetti went on to create another emblematic and still highly regarded fig scent for Diptyque and my personal favorite: Philosykos. This time the homage to Greece which is characteristic in the Diptyque scents line anyway (the founders being fond of vacationing at their house in mount Pelion and trekking through the Athos peninsula in search of herbs) is evident in the name; the scent was inspired by a dreamy vacation in Greece. Philosykos means “friend of figs” in Greek (much like Phillip is the friend of horses). And one wouldn’t be hard-pressed to see how anyone who likes the fig tree and its connotations would fall madly in love with this gem of a scent! Supported by the more robust cedar wood note, the green note of leaves is nicely mellowed. Diptyque also do a less complex but equally welcoming Figuier candle and room spray.

via heartofgoldandluxury.blogspot.com

Giacobetti in an unstoppable strain of fig-producing mode went on to create an Eau de Parfum version to the best-selling Premier Figuier, baptized Premier Figuier Extreme, highlighting the rounder elements and extending its stay. This EDP version even has its own fig-shaped limited edition bottle! Both lines have matching and faithful home fragrances in the form of sprays and scented candles which recreate a paradisial, calming atmosphere at home for when you want to bring back those lazy summer days of skulking aimlessly and relax.

Another great approximation to the scent of the fig tree and its ambience is A la Figue by Satellite. A study (fugue) on fig, it’s delectable, piquantly bittersweet and dustily green just like the imposing trees themselves are. So is Carthusia’s unisex Io, an aromatic composition with tea leaves inspired by the majestic villa the Emperor Tiberius built on Capri.

Nevertheless, much as realism is admired in perfumery when recreating a certain smell, one could not leave out impressionism. And herein enters one of the most individual and unique renditions of figs in recent perfumery, the one which Jean Claude Ellena proposed for Hermes with his first Jardin offer, Un Jardin en Mediterranée. Inspired by a plate of fresh figs, offered by a young woman, hot (so to speak) off the branch in a garden in Tunisia, the scent presents the bitter, sharp and yet imposing qualities that the inspiration behind it must have conjured in its creator’s mind like taking in the serene paysage and the introspective, philosophical thoughts the latter surely triggered. The fragrance’s coolness and vegetal feel, comparable to tomato leaf, is truly imaginative.

Miller Harris with her Figue Amère is proposing another fig off the beaten path. The salty, slightly bitter impression of the composition is perhaps a nod to the usual accompaniment of figs in the countries where they’re consumed by the gallon: salty cheese. Salt at once cuts down on bitterness and rounds out flavors, providing the perfect backdrop for such a central idea as unripe figs. Complimentary notes of ambery fir balsam, shady violet leaves, bitter angelica and citric hesperidia demand an inquisitive and adventurous soul to carry it off with panache.

The most perverse and love-it-or-hate-it fig fragrance however has to be Womanity by Thierry Mugler. There is a watery-sweet note on top which is very unusual: The fruity note passingly resembles that in Un Jardin En Mediterranée or Figue Amère by Miller Harris, but whereas the warmth co-existed with the cool in the Hermès fragrance, laid on thin over the green notes, and it was bitterish-cool in the Miller Harris, in Womanity the figs have caramelised. Their succulent flesh id more apparent in the sun than the leaves or the bark of the tree, with a nod to fig cookies as well. And then the salty note, said to evoke caviar!! Its intimate, lightly animalic quality is musky and intriguing and shows the frontier options to bypass.

via bigpouffyskirt.blogspot.com

Modern interpretations 

Jo Malone in the line’s usual luminous, diaphanous style presents Wild Fig and Cassis, marrying the sourness of cassis with their ammoniac note with the sweeter aspects of the fig fruit in a simple game of a contrasting duet. Guerlain on the other hand opted for the delicate and earthy-powdery anchor of iris along with the house’s characteristic sweet vanilla note in their playful fruity-accented Figue Iris. The fragrance forms part of the Guerlain Aqua Allegoria line, a collection of refreshing simple colognes that partake of beloved materials in simple compositions.

More tropical nuances reminiscent of beach vacations and sunscreen lotion are explored in Coco Figue by Comptoir Sud Pacifique, a French line in aluminum cans fit for travelling and inspired by exotic locales, as well as by Fresh in their Fig Apricot where two summery fruits conspire to give a delectable treat that tempts to be eaten rather than dabbed.

Other fig fragrances in the niche sector include: Ninfeo Mio by Annick Goutal (with its matching candle Sous le Figuier), Les Nez Turtle Vetiver Front, Fig & Garcons by Nez a Nez, Fico di Amalfi by Aqua di Parma Blu Mediterraneo, Fig Tree by Sonoma Scent Studio, Figuier Eden by Armani Privee, Hermessence Santal Massoia (Hermes), Fig Tea by Patricia de Nicolai, Byredo's Pulp, Fico Verde by Antica Farmacista, Sous le Figuier by M.Micallef, Figaro by Lubin, Aftelier's Fig built on all naturals, Bois et Fruits by Serge Lutens, Fresh Fig by Laura Mercier, Mediterranean Fig by Pacifica, and Henri Bendel's Wild Fig.

Even more mainstream brands have embraced the fig fad in their portfolio, starting with Marc Jacobs Men, Marc Jacobs Splash Fig, Island Capri by Michael Kors, and Versace Versence, all the way down to Bath & Body Works Brown Sugar & Fig, proving niche brands map out emerging markets.

Related reading on Perfume Shrine: Scents of the Mediterranean, Perfumery Raw Materials articles 

Do you like figs and fig scents? Which is your favorite?

Les Nez Turtle Vetiver Front: fragrance review & draw

An anarchic perfume? Why not?

an outlaw perfume
that doesn't recognize any rules or regulations
it hasn't been tested on animals
but one Turtle with his kind consent

Matthew Stoned for Dazed & Confused Oct.2011

Thus is Turtle Vetiver Front, the second installment in the limited edition series that began in 2009 with Turtle Vetiver Exercise No. 1, being introduced to us by Swiss niche line Les Nez, uncompromising in its catering for individuality and art-concepts. The new fragrance is part of the Turtle Salon (if you don't know about it, here's your chance to discover), hence the Turtle referenced, and was composed by ISIPCA teacher and perfumer Isabelle Doyen.

According to the blurb "For Turtle Vetiver Front, the smoky and flinty facets of vetiver are brought to the fore, with carbon paper and freshly printed newspaper effects; an unexpected coconut note softens this austere blend and makes this iteration more easily wearable than the first, while preserving its raw power".

Indeed the new Les Nez fragrance opens intensely, with the swamp-like qualities of vetiver grass oil, which recall vast expanses of muddy waters where crocodiles might lurk, rather than techno-age associations; Creature of the Swamp more than 9 to 5 with its carbon papers, even though there is a hint of inkiness possibly due to quite a bit of oakmoss in the formula and a 3D quality thanks to a drop of natural ambergris. Les Nez doesn't really have to be IFRA compliant, nor is it cost-effective bound. The effect is overall flinty, inky, swampy, even phenolic from a certain angle when sprayed. Almost immediately Turtle Vetiver Front takes on a very discernible fig leaf facet with cedar wood, sweetened with the milky note that is inherent in the fruit's sack: the whiteish, coconutty-laced note we have come to get introduced to from Premier Figuier and really now find in Santal Massoia (Hermès) and Santal Blush by Tom Ford  (as well as in a woody butch iteration in Santal 33 by Le Labo). Coconut has a reputation to scare the horses, as it's been played to death by aroma-care companies that churn it out in devilish cones lurking at the back of Ukranian-driven taxis and overdoses that can turn rotten-sweet in suntan lotions and Pina Colada cocktails, but if those are your associations you need not worry: This is a new development in the industry we will be seeing more of, using coconut lactone to soften woody compositions and with the usual refinement of both Les Nez and Doyen the coconut facet is both subtle and delightful, merely giving a caress. If you liked that element in Santal Massoia, you will most definitely like it here too.

Compared to Turtle Vetiver Exercise 1 (the first edition), the original was rawer, more robust, with a pronounced salty true aspect to the vetiver, iodine-like and sea-reminiscent, with that "briny/marine" tonality in Goutal's Vetiver, also composed by Doyen; unique, delightfully bracing, for hard-core vetiver fans! In Turtle Vetiver Front, the greener and milky elements are that of the shore which solaces the wounded under the shadow of the fig trees, providing a softer turn which would make it very wearable for men and women alike.The inky top notes reminiscent of Lalique's Encre Noire swirl back and forth between rawness and the softness of fig/coconut, producing a lasting vetiver fragrance that will get discussed (and which I personally liked a lot). NB. When stocks run out, the third iteration, Turtle Vetiver Back will challenge us more with an edgier interpretation!

Notes for Les Nez Turtle Vetiver Front: vetiver, coconut lactone (synthetic coconut note), moss and ambergris.

LesNez Turtle Vetiver Front is available in Eau de Parfum, 50ml/1.7oz for $120 on the official Les Nez site. Profits are given to Turtle and there are only 90 splash bottles available. There are also samples available for purchase.

I have a deluxe sample atomiser for one lucky reader.
Please say what you like or not like in vetiver & coconut fragrances in the comments to enter. Draw remains open till Sunday midnight.

Related reading on Perfume Shrine: Vetiver Series, Les Nez fragrances.

In the interests of disclosure, I was sent 2 samples in the mail. 

Sonoma Scent Studio Fig Tree: Fragrance review

To say I am rather competent to judge a realistic fig or fig tree scent is an understatement, and that's not out of an overinflated ego. To reprise a popular olive oil commerical "I'm Greek, I should know!" Legion are the times I sought solace under the fig tree's thick shadows in the schorching summery heat; one of them under the very ruins of the Knossos palace in Crete. I can eat the fruit by the pound, such is the gluttony those taut little sacks inspire in me. And I have seen with my very archeologist's eyes how our ancestors consumed these nutritious gems by the pound too: the tiny seeds are still visible within the fossilised excrement fished out from the excavated sewage system at Akrotiri, on Santorini island. Oh yes, I know about figs and the tree that produces them all too well.

It comes as no surprise that I was taken by Sonoma Scent Studio's Fig Tree perfume. A fragrance that you should put on "Anytime you need a smile" as perfumer Laurie Erickson advises and on this freezing cold day of January there is no more proper time to remind myself of the paradise that our local nature is nurturing under this very cold, hard ground. The nascent roots sprouting little stems as we speak, the foliage in the trees now washed by the rain and shimmering under the "sun with teeth", awaiting to become fuzzy and dusty again with the gusts of July, the fruits waiting to appear again and again in their uninterrupted cycle of life.

Fig perfumes usually strive for one of two directions: there's the creamy-lactonic woody progeny started by perfumer Olivia Giacobetti with her Philosykos (Diptyque) and Premier Figuier (L'Artisan) where the nuances can veer over to apricots (a result of the peach lactone used); or the bitter, greener compositions such as Un Jardin en Mediterranée by Hermès and Jean Claude Ellena, based on stemone, a leafy oxime ~technically methyl-5 3-heptanone oxime~which generally imparts a powerfully fresh vibrancy to green florals (narcissus, lily of the valley), citruses (mandarin and grapefruit) and aids to built fig leaves and blackcurrant leaves notes.
Sonoma Scent Studio's Fig Tree is of the latter persuation; not that the natural milky-smelling coconut facet of the fig tree does not surface in the fragrance, a glimpse of the "milk" which the fruit oozes if you pinch it when semi-mature, but the emphasis by the perfumer has been deliberately given to the leaves, the unripe green sacks and the bark, through what seems like a synergy of cedar and patchouli.
Fig Tree is powerfully green in the beginning, with that unmistakeable fuzzy dustiness of the fig leaf; as if a very thin layer of earth is at all times resting on it, now matter how much you wash them. This raw effect ensures the realistic interpretation. But the unisex scent develops over time, seguing to a warm, delectable heart when the creamy notes appear (never too sweet, just on the brink of coconut milk), and then expressing a sustained woody-amber note, humming rather than hissing the lullaby of an eternal summer...

Notes for SSS Fig Tree: green fig, lactones, cedar, vanilla, tonka bean, musk.

Available at the Sonoma Scent Studio fragrance e-shop.

Related reading on Perfume Shrine: Sonoma Scent Studio fragrances

In the interests of disclosure, I was sent a sample directly by the perfumer.
photo of fig tree via greekresort blog

Hermes (Hermessence) Santal Massoia: fragrance review

“Virtuosity,” star perfumer Jean Claude Ellena says “is a form of seduction.” In the latest Hermessence, Santal Massoïa, virtuoso Jean-Claude Ellena is quoted as wanting to evoke "what is beneath the air" in an Indonesian forest, and to that end he interweaved an airy fig note amongst the woody ones: fresh rather than creamy, with his trademark space between the notes casting rays of welcome luminescence amidst the dense forestry. Santal Massoia is a luxuriant fresh woody for those of us who appreciate the understated luxury of opting for one piece of jewelry over two; one lump of brown sugar in our tea instead of heaps of caramel corn syrup; and an original art work by an unknown painter, who moonlights as a newspaper illustrator, rather than reproductions of Monet's celebrated oeuvres on our walls. As Mr. Ellena points out in his book "Perfume, the Alchemy of Scent", any perfume is only “a succession of olfactory moments” after all. And living from moment to moment is a small proof of happiness, isn't it?

Hermès Santal Massoïa is such a succession. It opens with a greenish impression of fig skin and leaves, a footnote taken from Hermès Un Jardin en Meditaranée, but at the same time tinged with the unmistakeable scents of sandalwood and coconut, milky notes that combine to create a soft-focus effect like Sarah Moon photography. His green-creamy accord of stemone and octolactone gamma is among his signatures. The coconut note is subtle, watery, not very sweet, more reminiscent of coconut milk or a milk pudding. The wood dries that soft way, not fatty or especially fruity, and do I smell a hint of woody vetiver? I believe so. It doesn't change much beneath those two phases, much as most of the fragrances in the Hermessences boutique line; these are impressionist scents, with no pretense of going for the dense composition of Velázquez's The Surrender of Breda.

Massoia bark of Cryptocaria massoia gives an alkyl lactone (lactones are milky-smelling substances) which would naturally provide the lactic element of natural sandalwood. Massoia lactone (possessing a coconut-like, green and creamy scent) interestingly can also be found in molasses, cured tobacco and the essential oil of osmanthus fragrans. The material has facets of dried fruit and dulce de leche, which would lend themselves to a Lutensian opus easily. It's an unusual material to be sure and one which is not especially used in perfumery. The latest IFRA restrictions in fact target it, which is why perfumers have to resort to fractioned versions that result in a pure material with no risks.

Sandalwood on the other hand is a perennial classic: There are many established sandalwood fragrances in the market, from the mink-stole old-world plush of Bois des Iles by Chanel with its sparkling overlay of aldehydes (especially delightful in vintage extrait de parfum) to the classic woody bonanza of Tam Dao (aerated and creamy at the same time), all the way through the subtlety of Etro's Etra or the gingerbread complexity and heft of Jungle L'Éléphante (Kenzo). Sandalwood is making a come-back (did it ever go away?), with the challenge of coming up with a reputable & sustainable source of the material (the Mysore region in India is protected since the species is on an endangered list) or a composition of a base that imitates it satisfactorily. Recently Le Labo Santal 33 proposed a butch rendition highlighting the Australian variety of sandalwood (which is different than the creamier Mysore sandalwood) with a passing hint of coconut, while Tom Ford offers his own delicious, smooth cumin-laced Santal Blush in his Privé line of upscale fragrances, while Wonderwood by Comme des Garcons is another one.
Hermès Santal Massoïa offers a new, admittedly luxe and subtle version of the prized wood which is mysterious and retains a refined freshness at all times; as with everything Jean Claude Ellena there is no hint of "notes lourdes" (fatty notes). This streamlined composition is not meant to be a diet sandalwood, but an elegant gouache that can remain contemporary, fresh and natural-feeling. Much like Iris Ukiyoe, it's a poetic formula. No one who follows the sensibilities of Jean Claude ~and I'm one of them~ expects a tooth-aching diabetes-coma-inducing dessert from him, nor a cheap "tropical" with that trademark sickening coconut note which obliterates everything within a 4 feet radius. In that regard, the man is consistent.
Hermès Santal Massoïa will therefore satisfy lovers of sophisticated, green woody fragrances, while it might seem too refined (or too sparse or possibly too green) for those who prefer their wood fragrances heftier, more calorific and direct-aiming. Personally I find Santal Massoïa luxuriant and quietly sexy, a radiant composition perceived by people around that lasts well on me (five hours and counting, someplace between Vétiver Tonka and Ambre Narguilé) and totally unisex. In fact it would be totally delicious on a man, a welcome break from "aromatic" woodies that make everyone smell the same.

According to Jean Claude himself (via joyce.fr): « Il est des bois verticaux et linéaires comme le cèdre, et d’autres horizontaux, ronds, souples et veloutés tels que le bois de santal et le massoïa. De cet entendement j’ai composé ce parfum de bois lactés, énigmatiques, invitant et distant, aux odeurs âpres et étranges de résine et de fruits secs, et familières de confiture de lait et de fleurs. Ca ne ressemble à rien d’autre et pourtant on est prêt à l’accepter. J’aime cette ambigüité, ce paradoxe ».

Hermès Santal Massoia includes notes of sandalwood, massoia bark, and coconut. It is set to be available at Hermès boutiques around the world from November 11th 2011.

Related reading on Perfume Shrine: Hermes fragrance reviews & news, Sandalwood: the material, synthetic replications & fragrances highlighting it, the Hermessences fragrance reviews.

photo via 2luxury2.com

Thierry Mugler Womanity: fragrance review

All Mugler fragrances create a stir, from the iconic Angel to the stomping woody jasmine in Alien, the metamorphosis-inducing androgyne tuberose of À Travers le Miroir to the surprising Miroir des Envies with its Nutella chord: Womanity, a woody, sweet (fig notes) and salty Eau de Parfum which was advertised with fish references (the caviar accord) alongside the name cannot but conjure images of female genitalia to the fertile imagination. And maybe this was at the back of the mind of Mugler and the creative team at the Clarins group all along!
The designer's house has almost gone bust, kept afloat via perfume & accessories and the man has buffed himself up into a mutilated rendition of a seedy-magazine bodybuilder named Manfred. Something has got to keep the perfumes at the position they are nevertheless and that something is innovation and originality. Womanity is no exception, the definition of a love-it-or-hate-it fragrance, much like all Mugler perfumes are with the possible exception of Cologne.

"Womanity is the quality of being a woman. We differentiate ourselves from the rest of huMANity in biological, social, cultural and spiritual terms" (according to womanity.blogspot) Colour me unimpressed. Yet the composition which perfumers at Mane concocted for Parfums Mugler is nothing short of apocalyptic (in both senses of the word). The overwhelming sweetness (and loudness!) of the fig note is flanked by the austerity of wood and a salty nuance (ever so slight) which manage to create something that doesn't conjure anything concrete, and doesn't recall any other fragrance on the market. In fact if the saltiness was more pronounced (as the woody drydown progresses the arch seems to fall flat and become dull and incongruent) we would be talking about a true classic-to-be.

Smell and compare with other fig fragrances ~such as the two classics, Philosykos by Diptyque and Premier Figuier by L'Artisan Parfumeur with their hint of coconut and bitter leaf note; or the ultra-refined Un Jardin en Mediterranée by Hermès with its herbal aromata~ and you will see how Womanity differs. First of all, there is a watery-sweet note on top which is very unusual: The fruity note passingly resembles that in Un Jardin En Mediterranée or Figue Amère by Miller Harris, but whereas the warmth co-existed with the cool in the Hermès fragrance, laid on thin over the green notes, and it was bitterish-cool in the Miller Harris, in Mugler's Womanity the figs have caramelised. Their succulent flesh id more apparent in the sun than the leaves or the bark of the tree, with a nod to fig cookies as well. And then the salty note, said to evoke caviar!! Its intimate, lightly animalic quality is musky and intriguing. Pierre Aulas, olfactive director of Clarins Fragrance Group, revealed that it was a true challenge to work on Mugler's idea of combining savoury and sweet notes. The ambery-woody drydown is the "weakest" part aesthetically, borrowed as it seems from Alien, and not exciting enough, echoing as it does a base common in other fragrances on the market.

The finished effect though is so powerful that it is worth amassing some of the quotes of people who have sampled Womanity and publicized their impressions on Fragrantica. Those range from the impressionist ("a futuristic scent, or what perfume would be like on an alien planet" and "something a mermaid would wear. Overpoweringly fishy at first as she rises from the sea, but later as she is sitting on a rock combing her tresses, breezes from the nearby fig groves sweeten the air. Perhaps she is on a Greek island somewhere in the Mediterranean") to the programmatic ("I know many people get citrus, fig, salty caviar, nail polish or bad body odour, but I smell spicy cookies" and "Womanity smells like popcorn from a movie theatre, filled with gobs butter"), all the way to the purely dismissive ("It smells dirty, like youd been cutting trees all day and smoking at the same time, but smells even worse than that if you can imagine"). A fragrance which creates strong feelings......but a very strange one!

Thierry Mugler has once again jumped into the deep end with Womanity, proposing a new release which sounds odd but will definitely open up new doors, possibly more refined along the way. If the previous Mugler scents are any indication to the spawn they leave behind, then expect to smell more of this combination in the future. I don't think I would personally wear Womanity, my tastes running to subtler, more intellectual routes concerning personal fragrance, but I cannot deny its risk-taking as the proper stance to take at the moment, even if not entirely successful. If all fragrance houses did this, the world of perfumery would be much more interesting at least, without a doubt!

NB: The review is based on my own sampling at store and at home and NOT on the promotional pre-release "kit" which several other bloggers got in the mail in summer 2010.



Related reading on Perfumeshrine: Thierry Mugler news & reviews

Caviar on Fig photo by Boverthemoon

Flora Attica: Galivanting amidst the Greek gardens

The last day of May had me leafing through the photos that I had taken throughout the Veniamin month of spring. The fragrant orgy of the warm Greek spring was simply irresistible not to lock away in digital form for the gloomiest days of winter and the promise of a rampant summer was achingly palpable in every petal and every leaf.
Here are some of them as a small tribute to the glory of scented walks in the city...




The season of the lilac is all too brief, its passing leaving behind a nostalgic pang for beauty betrodden.

I like to prolong their fragrant whisperings by wearing Tocadilly, After my Own Heart by Ineke and Highland Lilac of Rochester well into the early throes of summer, when their lush, ripe beauty is but a distant memory. (click the links for reviews)






Pittosporum tobira (the dominant blossom in the heart of the strict, celebral chypre Knowing by Estee Lauder) hides in its small little corola a sweet, intoxicating smell of white floral longing.
The whiffs caught in the evening make the heart palpitate with pleasure and rapture.




The vibrant flowers of oleander in pink, white or salmon are characteristic of the Greek landscape and truly abundant, even in the intense heat of the summer. Their dusty, bittersweet aroma that combines earth and stem is indicative of their poisonous nature, yet tempting to a tentative taste.





Robinia pseudoacacia (mock acacia) on the other hand blooms safely in May and the white grappes hanging off the trees are swaying in the cool breeze of early morning with the promise of sunny happiness.



Small statuettes are very common in doorways and porticos and here we have a Venetian lion under a climbing vine and fuschia bougainvillea bush. The early peaches are visible on the peach tree at the background. The succulent juice of the fruit whets my appetite for Péché Cardinal by parfums MDCI, in which the sinful peach is the indomitable protagonist.




Fig trees, their mighty shade and their dusty, bitter tang of the leaves always a welcome solace in the schorching rays of high summer, are already producing their first figs, unripe and green. They're bitter still, their white-ish "milk" making one's face grimace upon smelling like a child sucking on a sour lemon for the very first time.
The refreshing quality of both tree and fruit is lovingly captured in L'artisan's Premier Figuier, Cielo by Napa Valley, and A la figue by Satellite.







Scarlett bougainvilleas are sadly without their match in perfumery, but their emblematic contrast with the white of the houses casts our mind to summer vacations on Greek isles and their respective irresistible bouquet of aromata of herbs and foliage.

Roses are early bloomers in the warm climate and the juxtaposition of this most English of flowers with the terracotta of the archaic metopes and akroteria is arresting in its unexpectedness. Whenever the mood strikes me for a lush rose fragrance such as these blooms I turn to the embullient rose and violet combination that is Yves Saint Laurent's Paris; its crystal melody speaking of feminine elegance and almost tipsy romanticism. When I want an earthier companion to my rose, Une Rose Chyprée by Andy Tauer and Frédéric Malle's Une Rose provide the rich, dirty feel that enrobs my roses with the pungent soil odour following a summer thunderstorm. And finally when I'm all out for an orientalised classical rose that "would smell as sweet", nothing will do but Guerlain's Nahéma.


Last but not least, this garlanded doorway of delight had me stop in my tracks even before I turned the corner of the small alleyway; the fragrant stream of the jasmine trellis was so potent, so intoxicating, my feet had a will of their own trying to track the source of the heavenly aroma! Nothing caprtures the beauty and the awe of summer jasmine in the warm embrace of the Mediterannean like A la Nuit by Serge Lutens ~its enveloping hug is as mesmerising as falling in love all over again: not only with one's beloved but, more importantly, with life itself.

All photos by Elena Vosnaki, copyright for Perfume Shrine. Click to enlarge.

Ipanema and A la figue by Satellite: fragrance reviews

Sometimes one comes across some special people who are kind, generous, lovely. And on some rare occassions it so happens that those special people are also "perfume people", aromaphiles. I have known a few of those and they have sent me wonderful, rare things to try out, of which I am going to continue reporting in the future for your delectation.
One especially lovely lady known for her tremendous generosity gifted me with an assorted bag of goodies that included two of the new Satellites, I had talked about before: Ipanema and A la figue. She is deeply thanked for the sniffa experience.
So without further ado, my impressions of the two.

Ipanema named after the infamous brazilian beach between Leblon and Arpoador in Rio de Janeiro is imbued in Curacao shades of an endless turqouise, clear like a jewel made of blue topaz. The colour alone is making this enchanting to look at and enticing to put on. The official notes list ylang ylang, orange, grapefruit, freesia, sandalwood, coconut, white flowers, tonka bean, vanilla, sea accord and patchouli.
Now coconut has never been a very favourite perfume note of mine, because of the association I get with those dreaded pine-cardboard things dangling from the mirrors of derelict taxis, swaying their way across the national routes on your way from a rural airport to the point of your vacation destination on a white rock island. For some uncanny reason, most of my similar itineraries have been branded by this same memory, taxi driver always kind and offering tips and quips about the vacation spot to be visited, often also chain-smoking. Yet the permeating coconut scent of the pine decoration diverting my attention. Luckily, this all happened during the summer, when windows are rolled way down, when the nature is simmering under the hot brazing sun and the herbs of the field sing their own Pan-flute tune. The greek paysage smells nothing like coconut, to be sure. This pertains to far more tropical destinations, such as the one invoked by the mention of Brazil and Ipanema, of course. So I can see why the inclusion.
The coconut is quite pronounced which will satisfy people with a craving for the exotic and coupled with copious amounts of ylang ylang it takes the whole into a place of abandon to the sensuality of physical pleasures. You have to make sure that your wax is perfect and your bikini is brazilian-worthy-tiny, or at least cultivate that fantasy in your mind like the best of Heffner wannabes want you to do.
Regardless, the fragrance alone can get you to a place that looks like a technicolour movie of the 50s starring Elvis but underneath the dark mantle of earthy patchouli, as the scent progresses on skin, reminds you that this is the country of the favelas.(for a quick definition click here) A place of a wide divide: between the rich and the poor, the superficial and the meaningful, the facade and the core. Ipanema the fragrance, although not aiming for such meaningful elucidations, is adequatelly bringing the two into the fore.

A la figue, another Satellite new scent, also uses coconut as a fragrance note, although it is not officially mentioned. The playfull name that etches itself on both the figue(french for fig) and the fugue (depart, as in travel or daydreaming I like to imagine)caught my attention and the association of figs is very greek-like to me, as it is often the case that large fig trees are scattered across the fields and yards of properties imbuing the air with their dusty, creamy aroma that promises langorous days of summer, figs consumed after a dip in the big blue sea, washed and peeled under the tree and consumed with wild hunger after the swim, the dark red sticky juice marring hands, lips, caftans over bikins and assorted paraphernalia necessary for a day spent in the great ourdoors. It is no coincidence that L'artisan's Premier Figuier is one of my summer staples, as it evokes all those endearing associations in my mind of which I often partook as a child and even as a grown-up.

Figs have an interesting story behind them. As fig of the genus ficus is translated as "sūkon/syco" in greek, it was the proud export of the land of Attica, the broader land around the city state of Athens. In light of the trade significance of figs, which were prized all around the ancient world for their nourishing and medicinal properties, it was forbidden to pluck them out without licence or to trade them. However, human nature being what it is throughtout the millenia, there were still people who broke the law and took figs, especially from the holy fig trees beside temples, which bore a copious crop. Pretty soon there were people who took it as their task to report those violators, the informers or "sycophantes", deriving from sūkon phainein, to show a fig (sūkon, fig + phainein, to show). Of course, noble as the reporting was at the start, it soon transpired that it might bear a wonderful chance to carry out personal vendettas between enemies: if one hated someone else and had a grudge against them, what easier way to instill harm than to report them as stealing the figs from the trees? And this is where the whole "dicanic" tradition of ancient greece is based on, but this is perhaps the subject of another post.
In Latin times, the word lost its initial meaning, gaining the mantle of "a servile self-seeker who attempts to win favor by flattering influential people" according to Webster's. And thus it entered the english language. Ah, but the fig had its revenge here at last. And what an influential fruit it has been, being also mentioned in the Gospels (mentioned here in reference to Holy Monday) and the proverbial garb of the modest in Paradise.

The creaminess of the initial opening in A la Figue is redolent of the milky sap of actual fig fruit, the way they are a little unripe at first, sqeezed to produce a whitish milk juice that is a skin irritant (you have been warned!). Very soon, the greeness of notes that give an air of leaves and the bark enter, underscored all the while by the slightly vanillic coconut hint of the fruit peel and compliment the whole with their earthy aroma of wood and earth that reminds one of the might fig trees swaying in the wind. In this aspect it is quite close to Premier Figuier, perhaps a little more coconuty. It lasts on the skin sensually with an earthy quality that is classy and succulent and I can see it as great supplement to a summer wardrobe for people who love woody and creamy smells. A wonderful new addition!


Pic of coconut courtesy of oriflame.com, figs by DWSPL/T.Scott from dwpicture.com/au