Halston Classic: fragrance review & footnote on Netflix

 Adapted from the 1991 book Simply Halston by Steven Gaines, a TV mini-series of five episodes was ordered by Netflix in September 2019, and it premiered on May 14, 2021, starring Ewan McGregor in the eponymous role of Roy Halston Frowick. The man who invented himself came from a dreadful Midwestern background, a childhood spent in a farmhouse with an abusive father who yelled, and a mother who was cheered up by the boy's own handicraft, a feathered hat. So he started as a milliner. Much like Chanel, for that matter. As exhibition curator Patricia Mears notes on Halston's style, “One of the great aspects of his success was his ability to balance beauty and modernity." Nowhere is this more evident than in his eponymous fragrance, Halston for Women, also referred to nowadays as Halston Classic.

(pic via)

 There is a great scene in episode three, Sweet Smell of Success, in which Halston sits down with a respected woman perfumer, called Adèle, played by Vera Farmiga, to talk about developing his first fragrance, Halston. He is asked to select things which are meaningful to him. In the script, the designer selects orchids, because they're beautiful; tobacco, because he's constantly drawing from a cigarette; and his lover's jockstrap, because he's a semi-closeted gay man. (We're even shown the alleged perfumer sniff the used jockstrap deeply at some point...) At the time, the lover referred to was Victor Hugo, a Venezuelan student who arrived at Halston's studio to work as an assistant, and who became his lover for a decade.

But great as the perfume-making scene might be dramatically, giving a glimpse into the consulting process with a client—replete with tiny bottles of essences and blotters being dipped into them and sniffed—it fails to convey the true spirit of the fragrance in question. It was a tall order no doubt, as a passing mention of three things that seem to serve as symbols, rather than tales in themselves, is no more revealing than the fragrance industry's recent tendency to drop three notes to consumers and expect them to get crazy over their newest launch. There was definitely ground for exploration and tense dramatic antithesis, serving as a psychological outlet for the hero, letting us glimpse his repressed emotions, but it's mainly that. There is no really controversial element in the actual perfume, as I recall. It's actually one of the starchiest and loveliest of the classic chypres of the 1970s.

 The formula was developed with one of the truly greats, but not by a woman—by a man. Bernard Chant is a legendary perfumer at IFF, who is revered for the majority of Aramis men's fragrances and most Estee Lauder women's fragrances, from the starchy aldehydic Estee to the big floral Beautiful, as well as seminal chypre fragrances such as Cabochard Gres, Clinique Aromatics Elixir, Imprevu Coty, and Lauren Ralph Lauren. Halston Classic was one that cemented his good taste and excellence of execution.

There is something creamy, warm, and intimate about Halston Classic, although one would never in a million years classify it as animalic. But it's definitely a product of its time, still relevant after all these years because it's streamlined, feels high class, and exudes good taste. One can never offend in Halston, but it's much more memorable than innocuous "office friendly fragrances." The oakmoss, while there, is never in your face, much like the case with Caleche, making it an easy-to-adopt woody chypre, even for chypre-phobics.

Official perfume notes for Halston for Women (Halston Classic)

Top notes: Green Leaves, Mint, Melon, Bergamot, and Peach
Middle notes: Marigold, Carnation, Cedar, Orris Root, Rose, Jasmine, and Ylang-Ylang
Base notes: Oakmoss, Amber, Vetiver, Incense, Patchouli, Sandalwood, and Musk

Emanuel Ungaro Diva: fragrance review & reminiscences

People sometimes say things are not what they used to be, and in the case of fragrances, they're unequivocally right. Despite a certain glamorization of the past, which usually indicates dissatisfaction with the present, the fragrance game has changed radically in the past 20 years. Not necessarily for the worse overall, but the bite and edge of fragrances in the mainstream sector has suffered indeed. Some of them, nevertheless, show a predisposition for resisting. Diva by Ungaro seems to be one of them, apparently surviving relatively unscathed. It's still a glorious chypre with an indestructible "hear me roar" bawl that can be heard from the rooftops

(pic via)

I was offered a bottle of Emanuel Ungaro's Diva when I was 19. By my young boyfriend, no less. In today's standards, that would be the equivalent of being offered a petal dress in organza silk, combined with diamond-encrusted earrings to match, to wear to a black-tie ball. Talk about a glamazon! Those were different times, though; we weren't afraid to be adventurous with fragrance or over-apply occasionally. 

Jacques Polge, the legendary perfumer who is the father of the current in-house perfumer at Chanel, Olivier Polge, made sure to include everything and the kitchen sink while composing the byzantine formula of Diva back in the early 1980s. There is the standard big, voluminous, and arguably synthetic rose of the1980s, immortalized in creations such as L'Arte di Gucci, Knowing, and Paris (YSL). It's balanced with a big dollop of patchouli and oakmoss, which give a very distinct aloof quality to the flower, eschewing the prim and romantic allusions of those blossoms and instilling a glamorous and somewhat demanding vibe. You can definitely see how it was an offer of supplication from a boyfriend to one's mistress...

 This wonderful and classic chord is then cleverly wrapped in a honey note, which only sweetens it just so, and a string of animalic notes, from civet to musk (it's almost YSL Kouros-like in its intimacy of warm naughty notes under the clean starchness). It is these elements that help make Diva congenital even to warm ambery perfume lovers. People who like Paloma Piccaso Mon Parfum but find it a bit harsh might find the Ungaro fragrance more simpatico to their sensibilities; it's worth trying and comparing to see the common lineage at the very least.

There is warmth and plush in Diva, as well as a dollop of other flower essences than rose, which enhances its femininity, and it all makes it less of a boardroom fragrance, unlike the way Knowing can appear austere and buttoned-up, especially nowadays. This quality brings it effortlessly into the salon and the boudoir. It's ladylike but still naughty; in the case of Diva, the lady is a tramp. And hey, even Lady Gaga reworked the classic song, so fragrance lovers should probably seek out Diva and give it a spin. It's worth exploring anew.

Bottega Veneta Eau de Velours: fragrance review

Bottega Veneta Eau de Velours from 2017, with a seductive name that evokes caresses with the softest materials, is a lasting, worthwhile specimen in the family of Bottega Veneta fragrances. Maybe even more lasting than the first eponymous release, Bottega Veneta Eau de Parfum!

via Pinterest

For this very plummy flanker fragrance, which was a limited edition to begin with, we have a presentation in – you guessed it – velvet ribbon caressing the neck of the bottle, substituting the subtle kink of the strip of leather which encircled the neck of the original Eau de Parfum in a bit of tasteful fetish wear.

Those of you who do not like the actual bitter facets of leather fragrances, but instead long for the plush and the decadent sense of luxury that leather suggests, will find this rosier and softer version, Eau de Velours, by perfumers Michel Almairac and Mylen Alran, more to your liking. The leathery core is here, too, but don't fool yourself that it's a defanged mass scent of musks and fruits sprinkled with sanitized patchouli and ready for its close up like so many others. It's definitely close to the original, but the softness, with an interlay of starched iris, makes it less sharp, less androgynous, more comely, and I'm afraid a little bit more "middle of the road," if such a term like that can be applied for the Bottega Veneta fragrance line at all (which i'm sure it can't, but you get what I'm saying).

Eau de Velours is a prime example of those fragrances fit to scent one's autumn scarf – very close to the body, but rising with the body temperature to mingle with one's skin chemistry and becoming one's own. Sensuous but in control, it's commanding attention where you don't need to raise your voice or your eyebrows to make your salient point. Good going, Bottega Veneta!

Related reading on the PerfumeShrine: 
Bottega Veneta fragrance reviews and news
Leather Fragrances Series: a Complete Guide on Leather in Perfumery
How to Seduce with your Perfume
Chypre Perfumes for Newbies

Niki de Saint Phalle: fragrance review and musings on memory

My experience with Niki de Saint Phalle goes back many years ago. I was aware of Niki being a force to be reckoned with artistically of course even before meeting her scent; her impressive snake-shaped creations in hues of vivid emerald and lapis blue were like a prelapsarian vision of Heaven. I will never forget the time when I saw a real size serpent of hers in the library of one of the university facilities in Cordoba, Spain. I doubt the serpent sculpture is still there, yet the impression has stuck with a mental recall vividness which is truly arresting.

via

Niki de Saint Phalle's eponymous scent, Niki de Saint Phalle eau de toilette, is much the same arresting affair both in looks (the cobalt blue oval with the intertwining snakes) and in smell.

It feels like one steps into an immense pine forest in a day of frost, when the needles hang with snow on them. The snow feels like dry powder and soap, very starched and proper, like some aldehydic fragrances of the 1970s, but with that green bitter touch of wormwood-mossy quality and a dose of carnation, which makes it more mysterious than just a bon chic bon genre aldehydic floral.

In what concerns hardcore chypres Niki de Saint Phalle is an odd man (woman) out. It's artsy yet not too hard to wear, with a playful twist that recalls violet candy, less herbal or animalic than most chypres, a hint of leather, some temptation, some tongue-in-cheek. It's a bit like stepping into a university library only to be greeted by a giant snake sculpture that looms above your head in insatiable hunger.

Related reading on PerfumeShrine: 
The Chypre Series: history, culture and aesthetics
Chypre Fragrances Explained for Newbies

Giorgio Armani Si: fragrance review

It wouldn't be inaccurate to claim that Sì, the latest feminine fragrance by Giorgio Armani, is L'Oreal's (the parent company of Armani parfums) answer to the commercial success of Lancôme's La Vie Est Belle from the previous year. Both are competent but rather forgettable perfumes that are sure to capture and retain the demographic they're aimed at: 35-50 year old women seeking something a little more sophisticated than the average fruity floral at department stores, while still not shocking anyone with their limp-wristed, yet persistent, wake of scent.

They're the Empire State Building rather than the strikingly asymmetrical Reykjavík’s Harpa Concert Hall & Conference Center. The tousled hair rom-com heroine rather than Irene Dunne. And a predictably lyrical novel that reads like a self-help book by Paulo Coelho rather than Orhan Pamuk. No, strike the last aphorism out: the fragrances in question are not Coelho-bad, surely!

Several small details point to the correlation between the two scents, Sì and La vie est belle. I mean.
The blackcurrant top note revisits a theme that was forgotten for long (First by Van Cleef & Arpels brought it into the scene and it's famously giving the piquancy in niche cult L'Ombre Dans l'Eau by Diptyque). They share a small fruity lactonic chapter (reminiscent of peach and pear). They both are buttressed by the familiar contemporary patchouli with woody-smelling Iso E Super and musks, plus a cotton candy vanilla note that -especially in the Lancome fragrance- instantly references Angel to anyone's mind. In Sì, the feel of a nouveau chypre (see our article for more on those) is enhanced by a cosmetics-smelling chord that is feminine and subtly intimate: the rosy note is simply put buoyed by soft, powdery violets like in many lipsticks and face powders.
Giorgio Armani's Sì is less sweet overall, with a drier, less cushion-like ambience. The cleaned-up feel and powdery abstraction recall segments of Knowing, a forgotten 1980s perfume by Estée Lauder. As per the perfumer, Christine Nagel of Mane, the base of Armani Sì includes Orcanox, which is another name for Ambroxan or Ambrofix (an aromachemical with an abstract woody-ambery scent aiming to recall natural ambergris), that gives great diffusion and tenacity to modern fragrances; indeed this Armani is one of them.

The official fragrance notes for Guorgio Armani Sì include blackcurrant, freesia, rose, vanilla, patchouli, blond woods, orcanox.

The choice of actress extraordinaire Cate Blanchett as the fronting woman for Armani's latest fragrance ("Cate Blanchett says Sì" -i.e. "yes" in Italian- is the motto of the campaign) has created the expectation of something truly exceptional and smart, like she is herself -the modern equivalent of Katherine Hepburn. Maybe the stakes were just too high. Sì just couldn't possibly live up to it or the "chypre reinvented" perfumista-nod on top of this. That doesn't mean it's not a pleasant fragrance; you could do much worse in the department store circuit, I'd wager.
Lovely bottle (in 1, 1.7 and 3.4oz of eau de parfum at major department stores), reminiscent of the Armani Privé perfume bottles aesthetic, a nice bonus.

Below, watch the official film for Giorgio Armani Sì (rather uninspired if you ask me, though beautifully shot by director Anne Fontaine) and a small interview with Christine Nagel where she explains the fundamental blocks of the perfume composition.

Le Labo Ylang 49: fragrance review

Ylang 49, newly launched by Le Labo this summer, is more treacherous to its assumed floral disposition and deceptively crepuscular: like murder-experienced, gold-digging, vacationing in Hawaii for one last trick Theresa Russell in 1987's "Black Widow", there's a bit of that Seattle rainy weather she just escaped from accompanying her sunny blonde exterior. The fruity sweetness of the ylang and the tropical tiare gardenia (the Tahitian Pua Noa Noa) are underscored by a green and resinous backdrop rich in mossy, earthy tones, that casts a long, long shadow.

Perfumer Frank Voelkl, who was also involved in the creation of Le Labo Santal 33 Iris 39, Musc 25 and Baie Rose 26, created with Ylang 49 a deceptive composition that zigs when you expect it to zag. Not exactly the "New Chypre it's touted to be (we're a long way from the perfume-y, lady-like, strict ambience of the classic chypres), it's all the same further removed from the scrubbed 18-year-old faces of the "floral woody musks" with their cleaned-up patchouli & vetiver under fluorescent florals that we affectionally call "nouveau or pink chypres" on these pages (you know, Narciso for Her, SJP Lovely, Idylle, L'Eau de Chloe, Chypre Fatal etc).

Not the typical ylang floral with jasmine-like sweetness (an inherent part of the ylang ylang absolute itself), much like Theresa Russell isn't your typical blonde American actress, I'm instead discovering a richly nuanced tapestry in Ylang 49 where every thread is shimmering with full conviction that they're contributing to the mysterious whole, just like the tiny clues federal agent Alex Barnes, obsessed and under the seductive spell of the murderess, collects to get to the heart of the Black Widow's fatal game.

Just great!

Notes for Le Labo Ylang 49:
Ylang ylang, Tahitian gardenia, patchouli, oakmoss, vetiver, sandalwood, benzoin

Stills from the 1987 Bob Raffelson film noir "Black Widow" (recommended) via thefancarpet.com

Disclosure: I was a sample directly by the company. 

Parfums Weil Zibeline: fragrance review & Weil house history

Parfums Weil is the most characteristic example of "parfums fourrure" (fur perfumes), being the perfumery offshoot of Parisien furrier, Les Fourrures Weil (Weil Furs), established in 1927. And Zibeline alongside Weil's Antilope are among their proudest creations.

The history of the House of Weil

Furriers since 1912, well before they became purveyors of fine fragrance, the venture of the founder Alfred -and his brothers Marcel and Jacques- into perfume resulted from the direct request of a client for a fragrance suitable to fur wearing. Weil obligingly capitulated to the request and produced scents that would guarantee not to harm the fur itself, yet mask the unwelcome musty tonality that fur coats can accumulate after a while. The names are quite literal: Zibeline (sable), Ermine (hermine), Chinchila, Une Fleur pour Fourrure (A Flower for Furs)...

The very first of those, Zibeline, was an expansive floral aldehydic veering into chypre tonalities, conveived as an evocation of the oak forests and steppes of imperial Russia and appropriately named after the animal there captured: Zibeline, the highest quality in furs for its legendary silky touch, its scarcity value and light weight. 

Zibeline belonged to the original fragrant trio line-up that launched the business of Perfumes Weil. Introduced in 1928, Zibeline was comissioned by Marcel Weil and composed by Claude Fraysse assisted by his perfumer daughter, Jacqueline. (The Fraysse clan is famous for working in perfumery: His two sons, André and Hybert were to work with Lanvin and Synarome respectively and the son of André, Richard, is today head perfumer at parfums Caron).

Scent, Versions & Vintages of Weil Zibeline perfume

Zibeline was released in Eau de Toilette in 1930 but the formulations came and went with subtle differences and their history is quite interesting. First there was Zibeline, then the company issued Secret de Venus bath and body oils product line which incorporated Zibeline among their other fragrances (a line most popular in the US) while later they reverted to plain Zibeline again. The Eau versions of Secret de Venus Zibeline are lighter, with less density while the bath/body oil form approximates the spicy-musky tonalities of the Zibeline extrait de parfum, with the latter being more animalistic.

The older versions of parfum were indeed buttery and very skanky, deliciously civet-laden with the fruit and floral elements more of an afterthought and around the 1950s the batches gained an incredible spicy touch to exalt that quality. It's interesting to note that as per Joan Juliet Buck, former editor of French VOGUE, men often wore Zibeline in the 1950s!

Later versions of Zibeline from the 70s and 80s attained a more powdery orange blossom honeyness, backed up by fruit coupled with the kiss of tonka bean and sandalwood, only hinting at the muskiness that was so prevalent in previous incarnations, thus resulting in a nostalgic memento of a bygone epoch that seems tamer than it had actually been. Zibeline is old school in the best possible sense and a parfum fourrure you will be proud to wear even if your vegan proclivities wouldn't allow you so much as think of touching a real sable coat.

The aftermath for Weil

Marcel Weil's death in 1933 did not stop expanding their perfumery endeavours; they added several other perfumes: Bambou, Cassandra and Noir. The Weil family was forced out of France by Hitler, so they re-established themselves in New York from where one of the first perfumes released was Zibeline with the quite different in character chypré Antilope being issued in 1945, upon return to Paris in 1946 when they also introduced Padisha. Sadly the multiple changing of hands resulted in the languishing of the firm by the 1980s and although the brand Weil has been in ownership of Interparfums (Aroli Aromes Ligeriens) since 2002 Parfums Weil is largely unsung and long due for a resurgence.

Notes for Weil Zibeline:
Top: aldehydes, coriander, tarragon, bergamot and lemon;
middle: orris, gardenia, jasmine, ylang-ylang, lily-of-the-valley and rose;
base: honey, sandalwood, tonka bean, amber, musk, civet and vetiver.

Parfums Weil Antilope: fragrance review

The name would bring to mind a safari in the African savannah, even though not spelled "antelope", but that is decidely not my image of Antilope by Parfums Weil, a fine fragrance by the well-known fourrier company. Still, even though launched by a fur house, Antilope is not a parfum fourrure, at least in the fetishistic sense of the term.



Let’s see: Antilope in its vintage version (the fragrance launched in 1946) is a floral aldehyde chypre that begins old-fashioned , dry and powdery , with a top note of pure flowers smelt at a mountain top like Ma Griffe. But hey, this is a chalet in the French Alps we are talking about and the effect is decidedly elegant and sophisticated , not natural. The house of Weil has an illustrious history of bringing out fragrances which speak of luxury, exotic hides, glorious landscapes of fantasy and glamour.
Think Capucine or Claudia Cardinale decked in Yves Saint Laurent on the slopes and at the chalets of Cortina (hey! Italian mountain , a technicality….) in "The Pink Panther", the first movie in the series in 1963. Picture Claudia sprawled on a tiger fur rug batting her lashes seductively and a little drunkendly at David Niven telling him about the “frasari…safrari…wild animal hunt” her father took her to. Then a fruity/herby note appears , like humble chamomiles. Sweet and innocent for a moment. Claudia will pass out from champagne before any carnal promiscuity. The fragrance ends with moss and wood, not distant, but elegant like in a reverie.
Very dry. Chic. French. Or not-so French. But of that attitude…….Maybe it's just the clothes and the setting, maybe it's Antilope.

Notes for Weil Antilope:
Top: neroli, bergamot and aldehydes
Heart: clary sage, rose, lily of the valley, jasmine, carnation, iris and violet
Base: sandalwood, vetiver, patchouli, tonka, amber, oakmoss and musk.

The vintage Antilope is assuredly richer and more nuanced than the reissued, sharper and more sanitized floral version. Excellent in Eau de Cologne and Parfum de Toilette (depicted).


If you like Madame Rochas or Caleche and wished they had a rougher texture than ever prim gentleness; or love the bitterness and swag of Cabochard and the "fresh" clarity of Ma Griffe, but find them too harsh to wear; Antilope is a great middle-ground.

K de Krizia: fragrance review

K de Krizia by Italian designer Krizia is a fragrance like they don't build them anymore: a very classy aldehydic floral fragrance with chypre-green tonalities, composed by revered perfumer Maurice Roucel. Launched in 1980, it has suffered the memory loss that plagues all less-known fragrances: It's largely unsung and few hard-core fans search high and low for it now that it's difficult to come across.

Despite its timeless, graceful and rather sensual arc, I cannot stress enough that in order to savour the complexities and powerful elegance that K de Krizia can offer you, you must like aldehydes in general and, on top of that, old-school compositions featuring them in particular. An unashamed cool customer, it wouldn't feel out of place with a well-cut suit and leather cinched waist. The Louise Brooks bob is optional.

K de Krizia opens with the brisk and razor sharp intensity of those white-light molecules called aldehydes. Mention aldehydes and everyone in a Pavlovian-like motif thinks of Chanel No.5. Certainly the feeling of aldehydic florals has been inextricably tied to memories and whiffs of No.5 for most people. But whereas the style is similar, the treatment is different enough: The peachiness and rosiness of K de Krizia, alongside the greener elements, differs considerably from the jasmine-richness and intense muskiness of Chanel No.5, the former being rather closer to Van Cleef & Arpels First or Balmain's Ivoire or even the chypre greeness aspect of Paloma Picasso than the iconic monstre.
If the opening of K de Krizia is primarily aldehydic, the florals emerge a little later to complicate things with honeyed pollen: rose, carnation, lily of the valley, and not so sweet jasmine (hedione) in an abstract harmony where no note predominates, gaining in deep mossiness as the fragrance dries down. The final stages are almost spicy from the leather, styrax and vetiver notes, and delectably powdery-soapy like only a woman who has used face powder with a fluffy retro pom-pom knows.

Between the different concentrations, the Eau de Parfum is more mellow and floral, while the Eau de Toilette exhibits drier facets and would be perfect on a man as well.
Sadly, K de Krizia has been reformulated for the worse: its rich oakmoss inclusion along with the flowers being rampant necessitated a close shave that cost it its richness, inherent femininity and natural feel of its floral essences.

Notes for K de Krizia:
Top: aldehydes, bergamot, peach, hyacinth, neroli
Middle: carnation, orange blossom, orchid, orris root, jasmine, lily-of-the-valley, rose and narcissus
Base: leather, sandalwood, amber, musk, civet, oakmoss, vanilla, vetiver and styrax.

Krizia pic via facebook

L'Arte di Gucci: fragrance review

The era of tailored chypres has come and gone and the new genre taking their place is smoothing the contours out into woodier and muskier avenues; yet every so often the perfume enthusiast gets a hankering for something that would be akin to grabbing someone by the (leather) lapels and kissing them square on the lips with gusto. L'Arte di Gucci is such a potent, slightly daring, borderline fearsome composition that would have you questioning your sense of appropriateness or fashionable compatibilty possibly (you might as well wear rugby-player's size shoulder-pads, this smells so out of place today), but enjoying every minute of it, nonetheless.

One MakeupAlley member notes: "If Divine's L' Inspiratrice is the good girl who always wears slips beneath her dresses, pearls and heels out to dinner no matter where she goes, and finds red nail polish too garish, L' Arte wears short skirts with heels, winks at all the boys, and never has to buy her own drinks".
By the minute you open up that vicious-looking box (all black opaqueness and glossy finish) and hold the funnily, yet friendly-shaped bottle you realise just what we lost by abandoning the powerhouses of the 1980s for ever; several nose-tingling masterpieces, that's what!

L'Arte is certainly one of the best releases from the Italian house, past and present, coming out rather late, in 1991, so it's probably natural it's tracing its roots in elements already featured in Paloma Picasso Mon parfum (the intensity of leather and the spiced oakmoss and patchouli blend), Niki de Saint Phalle (the herbal accents, starkly green) and most of all Diva by Ungaro (the astoundingly chypre tonality of its lush rose and the powdery clout). No perfumer is known, alas, so if you have this info, fill me in, I'm intrigued.
If you like your roses shaded, dark, thorny and abstractly woody-powdery (nay, "perfume-y" and very expensive smelling!) and if Guerlain's Rose Barbare, Lady Vengeance by Juliette has a Gun, Sisley's Soir de Lune, Rose de Nuit by Lutens and even Voleur de Roses by L'Artisan have hinted at delights which you always meant to further explore, look no further than the Gucci portfolio and this inexplicably underrated gem. Brassier than the above, L'Arte's prolonged dryout of mossy, powdered leatheriness is enigmatic and full of tawny smoothness.

L'Arte di Gucci wraps its intensely rosy heart garlanded with hypnotic, greenish narcissus into a luminous, characteristic aldehyde burst (evoking half part soap and the other part slightly overripe fruit) like a whirlwind into one of my favourite 80s pop tunes, Kim Carne's Betty Davis Eyes; hysky-voiced, with a swagger in her stride, dressing to impress. Yet the astounding thing is those were more innocent times than today, "pure New York snow" and all notwithstanding. I guess this fangled vampire with "lips sweet surprise" and luminous, deeply honeyed eyes which reminds me of tailored curvaceous suits that yes, Betty Davies might wear, preferably after a manipulation or two, is more girly and good than taken credit for.
"And she'll tease you, She'll unease you, All the better just to please you..."

Long discontinued, it can still be found sometimes online (there is a 1oz bottle available at Amazon right now) and on Ebay,although for alarmingly increasing prices.
The unusual bottle was designed by Serge Mansau and is presented in opaque black in the miniatures circulating.

Notes for L'Arte di Gucci: Bergamot, fruits, coriander, aldehydes, greens, rose, jasmine, lily of the valley, mimosa, tuberose, narcissus, geranium, orris, amber, musk, oakmoss, patchouli, leather, vetiver.

Related reading on Perfume Shrine: Chypres series


Evelyn Tripp by William Klein, photo Smoke & Veil from 1958 Vogue via Loose Leaf Tigers.
Bottle pic via Ebay

Estee Lauder Private Collection Jasmine White Moss: fragrance review

Private Collection Jasmine White Moss will be the "closing chapter" of the Private Collection series which includes Tuberose Gardenia and Amber Ylang Ylang, a collection above and beyond the run-of-the-mill fragrances of the mainstream sector while at the same time remaining unintimidating and utterly modern in feel. The series managed to inject an upscale touch to the Lauder giant with its limited distribution and its ornamental bejeweled flacons & solids compacts, yet it is the essences hidden inside that prove it's still possible to produce quality jus in those days of rationing and dumping down of the market at large.

While Tuberose Gardenia went for a remarkably alive white floral with gardenia unfurling its waxy petals in front of your very eyes and Amber Ylang Ylang enhanced the familiar amber's unguent with soft lappings of powdery sexiness, Jasmine White Moss goes for the kill and proposes a nouveau chypre. Much maligned as a term that last bit might be however, the resurgence of the august family of chypre fragrances is a market fact: The mossy earthy bases (focused on vetiver & patchouli, often along with synthetic Evernyl, cedar and treemoss) in several fragrances launched in the last few years prove its durability as a genre, even in altered states. Estée Lauder herself seemed deeply enchanted with the abstract harmonies of the typical chypre formula, supervising several in her lifetime: Azurée (1969), Alliage ~also spelled Aliage for the US market~ (1972), Private Collection (1973) and Knowing (1988).

Now comes Jasmine White Moss: Inspired by the spirit of Estée (née Josephine Esther Mentzer) and categorized as a floral, green chypre, being the closest of the trio in terms of fragrance family ties to the original Private Collection. Aerin Lauder, supervisor of the new scent and depicted in a white jersey vintage Halston dress with a white flower in her hair in the print ads says:

“…there is a lot of Estée in this project. We chose the blue stone accents [of white jade, dark and light lapis, sodalite, black agate, mother-of-pearl and blue lace agate] because blue was her favorite color; a basket weave design on the cap, since that was one of her favorite textures; her signature is on the lower right side of the bottle, and of course the juice began as her project.”

According to official press: "Private Collection Jasmine White Moss began as Formula #546AQ— conceived by Estée alongside the International Flavors and Fragrances (IFF) team in June 1989. Never completed in her lifetime, it remained untouched in the IFF archives for decades, until Aerin decided to revisit the juice a year and a half ago". (source)

First of all it is refreshing to see that in an age when divulging has become synonymous with the ad serviendum demand of the buying public the Lauder team admits that all those Estée Lauder scents, which have made fortunes and have catapulted the American perfumery tradition like no other, have been harboured by labourers of the prestigious IFF company and not by Estée herself as was the myth for years (Despite that, it is undoubted that she had a discerning and tasteful veto on the creations herself; after all she ranks among the 20 most influential business geniuses of the 20th century). Indeed American perfumer Josephine Catapano, working with Ernest Shiftan, is the true creator of the mythical and trend-setting oriental Youth Dew (her other well-known creations include Fidji for Laroche and Norell's Norell, later sold to Revlon); she also paved the way for Belarussian by birth Sophia Grojsman who in turn composed several Lauder fragrances to great aplomb (White Linen, Beautiful, Spellbound)!

While Tuberose Gardenia was composed by Firmenich's Harry Fremont, the baton is taken again by IFF for Jasmine White Moss injecting the fragrance with a new material of which they are having the exclusive rights: "white moss mist". The ingredient is quite elegant and provides much of the success of the soft and refreshingly mossy composition. Let me mention in passing that White Moss is also the name of a 1997 Acca Kappa fragrance (Muschio Bianco, although muschio means musk in reality) as well as a L'erbolario fragrance by the same name. The "white moss" ingredient has been fearured in I am King by Sean John (another IFF fragrance) while IFF perfumers have also added it to Estée Lauder’s new Michael Kors limited-edition scent ~Island Capri (source). It is intriguing to contemplate that in this frame there is a hybrid of the Rosa Damascena family called Quatre Saisons Blanc Mousseux, which is known in English as 'Perpetual White Moss' or 'Rosier de Thionville'. Its inclusion seems plausible, especially given the background that reminds me of Chanel No.19 with its powdery rosy greenness, delicate petals amidst the emerald plush, and IFF's headspace technology.

Azurée and the original Private Collection provide the consanguinity. Yet while I had included the original Azurée (NB this is NOT the recent beachy Azurée Soleil) to my Big Bruisers article, as part of my Leather Series, and while Private Collection can be said to be another handsome powerhouse of strident proportions, Jasmine White Moss proves easier to wear than both even with a distinct late 60s-early 70s vibe. However her dainty foot is firmly placed in the modern Jimmy Choo peep-toe of a fiercely smart secretary rather than the classic Roger Vivier pump of the coiffed boss. The opening is nicely old-fashioned, perfumey, comprised of a non-indolic jasmine which oscilates between freshness and tonic dryness. Concerns about regulations to the use of jasmine or moss shouldn't concern: the wizardry at IFF suggests everything is possible with judicious use of small amounts of naturals alongside man-made essences. Its aura of mossy depth appears at once luxurious and reserved. Jasmine White Moss is soft without appearing meek, elegant without pretence and would be the perfect introduction to even wilder, bitter arpeggios for those willing to take the plunge. The gratification from the latter course would be even greater!

Notes for Private Collection Jasmine White Moss by Estée Lauder:
Top: mandarin, black currant bud absolute, galbanum and bergamot
Heart: jasmin sambac absolute (Aerin’s choice), jasmin India absolute (Estée’s choice), violet, orange flower absolute, orris and ylang-ylang
Bottom: patchouli heart absolute, vetiver and white moss mist (the latter is an ingredient exclusive to Lauder.)

Lauder's Private Collection White Moss is available as 30 and 75ml of Eau de Parfum, as 30ml extrait de parfum and as a solid in pendant. It will be featured in 260 U.S. specialty doors in July, including Saks Fifth Avenue, Neiman Marcus, Bloomingdale’s, Nordstrom and Bergdorf Goodman. Internationally, the scent will launch at Harrod’s in August. Testers have already appeared at Saks Fifth Avenue and Nordstorms for those willing to test it.

Related reading on Perfume Shrine: Jasmine Series, Chypres Series, Lauder reviews & news.

Photography by Guy Bourdin via Life Lounge