Tom Ford Velvet Orchid: fragrance review

Tom Ford is eagerly awaited by fashionistas during New York Fashion Week due to his excellent finger on the pulse, in both sartorial as well as beauty endeavors, coaxing women (and men) out of their comfort zone and augmenting everything to a great big ooomph that's sure to get noticed. Velvet Orchid, a floral-oriental fragrance in a ribbed retro bottle in purple, is one such perfume.

via

Tom Ford Velvet Orchid opens itself with bergamot, mandarin, Succan absolute (I knew you'd ask, it's purified rum extract), and honey. At the core of this creation (made of "corporeal floral notes") is Tom Ford's distinctive, “timeless” signature that we have experienced in the original Black Orchid (fragrance review linked), from when first it exploded on counters like Alexis Carrington-Colby did when a minion or two were deemed unsatisfactory: an imaginary accord of black orchid blended with notes of velvet orchid, which gives the perfume its name, with intense Turkish rose oil (discernible as such) and jasmine and a new accord of purple orchid. The latter is a fantasy note that is comprised of aromachemicals that take over the scene and diffuse slowly and lengthily. Long story short, the bittersweet myrrh resin embraces all those sophisticated floral notes and makes them one hell of a floral oriental fragrance!

Like most tom Ford fragrances, Velvet Orchid is not the coy type at all, she wears her knickers on her head and is fine, thank you very much.

There are additional floral notes in Velvet Orchid, if you can believe it, of orange blossom, rose absolute, narcissus, hyacinth and heliotrope. The base is warm due to the rich flavors of Peru balsam, myrrh, labdanum, sandalwood, suede and vanilla.

photo by Matthew Roharik, borrowed via for educational purposes

The luxurious perfume is available in dim purple bottles of classic Tom Ford design in 50 and 100 ml Eau de Parfum concentration. Velvet Orchid was created by Yann Vasnier, Calice Becker, Shyamala Maisondieu and Antoine Maisondieu. Usually that many perfumers in one fragrance composition means the headquarters didn't really know what they were aiming at, but unusually Tom Ford does keep a tight involvement in his namesake brand, despite the ownership by the Lauder Group, so it's not a mess as one might expect; on the contrary, it's rather good and worth sampling for sure. And thankfully not part of the rather more expensive or elusive Tom Ford Private Blend.
Do take note that there is also a variant, called Tom Ford Velvet Orchid Lumière, in a slightly lighter purple bottle, launched in November 2016, as a new edition of the glamorous fragrance Velvet Orchid from 2014 from the collection ruled by the vamp perfume Black Orchid from 2006.

Whereas Velvet Orchid is a floriental with a warm woody base, Velvet Orchid Lumière is a floral - oriental composition with gourmand accents instead.

Clinique Aromatics in White: fragrance review

It's easy to get immersed in the White Bear Problem while reading Clinique's laconic message for their newer fragrance Aromatics in White.

 Pretty. Intense.

 What does your mind "read"? Pretty intense, right?

As Dostoevsky wrote in 1863, "Try to pose for yourself this task: not to think of a polar bear, and you will see that the cursed thing will come to mind every minute."

In a way Aromatics in White is both things; both at once, but not one stressing itself upon the other.
It's a quite decent and very contemporary modernization of what has been the Great Dragon of the Clinique stable of thoroughbreds, Aromatics Elixir. The company is of course owned by the Lauder Group and the same IFF perfumers, like the legendary Bernand Chant have worked for both outfits ~the archetype is his handiwork, as is Aramis for men -another Lauder offshoot-, Lauder's own Azuree perfume and Alliage.


The classic Aromatics Elixir, is the scent that half of Athens, Greece, smells of. (The other half smells of car exhaust, lush jasmine vines, roasted coffee and charcoal smoke from diners. It'd make a pretty intense and pretty great perfume; indie perfumers take note!) Its commercial success is uncanny, for decades on end; it can't be just a generational thing, but something much more ingrained in the country and its cultural "chypre" heritage. After all history is a hard subject to shoot down...

Hardcore chypres are nothing if not head-strong, and thus the original is much derided, polarizing its audience; from mad love to "old lady" slurs of disgust, "a dream to some, a nightmare to others!".
The need for what I call "chypres nouveaux" was therefore latent all through the 2000s and the smashing success of Narciso Rodriguez for Her recalibrated what we consider a "modern chypre fragrance". (It's basically a floral woody musky and if you have guessed by now that Aromatics in White is one, you'd be more or less correct).

Consequently the senior Aromatics, with its dynamite rose-n'-patchouli core, had already been lightened with Aromatics Elixir Sheer Velvet Philtre Sensuel (try saying that quickly three times) from 2006 and Aromatics Elixir Perfumer's Reserve from 2011. The arrival of the new edition couldn't skip the sophisticated contemporary style that recently begat things like Si perfume by Armani or La Panthere by Cartier.

"I have always been fascinated with the magic of Aromatics Elixir and its attraction on the skin. I wanted to convey that feeling with a new, modern composition," stated perfumer Nicolas Beaulieu on the occasion of creating Aromatics in White.

Aromatics in White is particularly musky (and I'm glad fellow blogger Persolaise agrees), intensely patcoulisized and quite sweet in a sort of arabesque way, though not quite (no leaden "amber note"). Notice the prolonged, very pleasant powdery-soapy drydown that is simple but not simplistic. Its volume is turned down, yet its impact is keenly felt. And if you think you're not smelling it after a while, lean in cause it keeps itself alive on clothes like crazy.
All of these definitely put Aromatics in White into the contemporary map of worth-whiles (and the fluid, mother-of-pearl like austerity of the bottle is a bonus), but it might never really surpass the Sacred Beast that speaks the Charm of Making. Some things are immortal, even if they're not for everyone.


Fragrance Notes for Clinique Aromatics in White:
Top: Sichuan pepper, violet leaves, labdanum
Heart: rose, orange blossom, patchouli
Base: leather, musk, grey amber, benzoin, vanilla. 

Givenchy Ysatis: fragrance review & history & free perfume giveaway

Ysatis remains among the most memorable perfume launches of my childhood, alongside Cacharel's Loulou, mainly due to the commercial that accompanied it, much like Faure's dreamy Pavane did for the latter. In the Greek version, a marvelously sonorous, rhyming phrase was able to be coined for the launch, a fact that would be difficult to accomplish in any other language:  "Αναζητείς το Υζαντίς" it went (a-na-zee-TEES toh ee-sah-TEES), roughly meaning that the love-struck male that would smell it would be forever seeking the source of the fragrant Ysatis. It does lend one to daydreaming, doesn't it. Especially to an impressionable, already obsessed with perfumes, mind such as mine, back in 1984.
The reality, as is often the case with perfumes, is far more prosaic: Jean Courtiere, president of Parfums Givenchy, came up with the name, while searching ~as is the formal naming process~ for something non copyrighted, non insulting in any known language and mellifluous enough to be catchy. Ysatis it was and it stuck.

The story

I also vividly recall that Ysatis was accompanied by images of carnival, chess board games and Venetian masks, a fact that I mistakenly attributed it to the masterminds at the advertising company borrowing heavily from the Venezia by Laura Biagiotti popularity, at its apex during the early 1990s, but it looks like it was done in reverse. (disregard the art school project ones posing as authentic). Accurately enough, my memory is as it should be: not only is the architectural Art-Deco-meets-skyscraper bottle of Ysatis posing as a chess piece itself, the commercial is set to a scene from the Venetian carnival (to the succeeding scoring of Hendel's Sarabande, immortalized in Kubrick's Barry Lynton, and of Folias d'Espagna by Arcangelo Corelli): the intrigued, love-struck man in question is seeking the glamorous, 1940s vague-coiffed and 1980s made-up woman behind the mask, the truth behind the glamorous facade. It all stood as very impressive and to this day I think they involuntarily captured a huge part of perfume's intellectual appeal; what is it that makes us want to peel the layers off a person like the beige-purple petticoats off an onion?

I'm relaying all these very personal associations to drive to the fact that Parfums Givenchy had a nice, long-standing tradition in my house, as my grandfather was a devotee of Givenchy Gentleman (1974), my mother occasionally dabbed from Givenchy III (1970) and my father had an amorous relationship with Xeryus (1986) many moons ago. So falling for Ysatis wasn't far fetched at all and taking in mind the first perfume I bought with my pocket money was YSL Opium, it seemed like a natural enough progression into the abyss into perfume appreciation. In fact the fragrance was so popular in Greece that a local fashion "chain" is still named after it.

Searching for this perfume these past couple of days I come across Ysatis advertised as "the perfume of power". But this is not what it stood for for me. Perceptions have significantly changed and we're not the creatures we were in the 1980s, when everything seemed possible, even gassing out everyone in the room with one's scent fumes, but Ysatis, poised as it is between three categories (floral, oriental and chypre) in its complex formula, has the tremendous force to evoke a time when one felt untouchable.
It sounds rather perverse and morbid choice for a teen, but I kinda think I was morbid all along. We did listen to lots of Joy Division and Cure and Siouxie & the Banshees and read Poe poems and gothic tales, so I suppose it wasn't just me.

The scent of Ysatis 

The main fragrance story of Givenchy Ysatis is unfolded in pummeling, sultry and creamy smelling essences of orange flower, ylang ylang and tuberose, brightened by the citrusy but sweetish oil of mandarin and chased by animal fragrance notes (smells like heaps of civet to me and there's also castoreum) and some spice in the base (the unusual for a feminine fragrance bay rum as well as clove). It's pretty "whoa, what the hell hit me?" at any rate. Like Gaia, The Non Blonde, says: "Ysatis is not for the meek or those still figuring out their style and taste". Word. If you have liked and worn Organza (also by Givenchy) in the 1990s, or Cacharel Loulou, and Ubar by Amouage, you have high chances of claiming Ysatis with the clinging tenderness usually reserved for Nutella jars.

Ysatis was composed by Dominique Ropion, maker of such ebullient, expansive fragrances as Amarige, Pure Poison, Carnal Flower, Portrait of a Lady, Une Fleur de Cassie, Alien, RL Safari, Flowerbomb or Kenzo Jungle, among many many others.




Ysatis has been reformulated and repackaged, though not ruined in the process; it's till Amazonian and lusciously haute bourgeois. Still if you're searching for the older formula, it comes in the black box vs. the newer purple one. The original bottles even read Ysatis de Givenchy. There is also a flanker, Ysatis Iris, also in a purple box, though that one has a purple hued bottle as well and of course the moniker "Iris" just below the name. Still, keep a sharp eye when shopping, as it's a rather different scent (focusing on violet & iris note sandwiched between the citrusy top and floriental bottom).

I have a generous miniature of vintage Ysatis for a lucky winner. Please state in the comments what was your favorite 1980s scent and what scents you'd like to see featured in the Underrated Perfume Day feature on Perfume Shrine. Draw is open internationally till Sunday midnight and winner will be announced sometime on Monday.

For more entries and fragrance reviews of Underrated Perfumes please click on the link and scroll.

Ormonde Jayne Tsarina: fragrance review

Tsarina, part of the London exclusive "Four Corners of the Earth" line by niche perfumery Ormonde Jayne, is advertised as "baroque" as would be expected from a fragrance evoking the furs and jewels of imperial Russia. Much as the sensibilities of democracy and social struggle have imprinted themselves into our collective consciousness, understandably making us abhor the practices of that long-gone era, the opulence of the winter palaces and the decorations on the regal vesture make the eye rest on them in awe and admiration (but lest we forget, people suffered so that the few had those privileges!). The contemporary reality of the scent by Ormonde Jayne, co-created by perfumer Geza Schoen and art director Linda Pilkington, is beyond the dense and thick, breathing with a beautiful luminosity and genuine distinction beyond the class systems.

Grand Duchess Anastasia Nikolaevna of Russia (pinned on Pinterest from coeurdelhistoire.tumblr.com)

The inspiration for the new perfume collection 'The Four Corners of the Earth' came from the indigenous flora of different parts of the world Linda Pilkington have visited on her travels. Globetrotting can serve many things and when it's for the benefit of us all, who can blame Linda for wanting to package these olfactory impressions into elixirs to be put onto skin?

Tsarina captures opulence and passion. It demands furs, leather, brocade, heavy silks in sweeping dresses and fabulous jewels to go with her haughty heritage. If you like the opulent feeling that some great florientals of the past exude in spades, such as Caron Narcisse Noir, or Boucheron Femme (the original), my gut feeling tells me that you'd probably love Tsarina, just like I have, and suffer through its exclusive status as a London-only ware. (The rest of the exclusive line includes the India-inspired Nawab of Oudh, the cedar-austere Montabaco inspired by Latin American and the featherweight charm of Chinese-inflected Qi)

*sigh* I had to post this despite my will, since the costumes are so magnificent...

Decadent luxury is transliterated into scent with Tsarina, a powerhouse floral oriental perfume reverberating with heaps of natural jasmine sambac (quite the non-Russia-referencing blossom!), unfurling its petals from the bottle like tentacles of glamour. The bright fruity touches give a saturated texture. The soft, vanillic and close to the skin intimacy of leathery  labdanum, fusing into an amber-smellingblend (more soft suede than balsam or butch leather one would associate in reference to the usual Cuir de Russie scent themes), underscores this composition—and do I detect a drop of civet, too?
Like the vitraux at the Saint Isaac's Cathedral in Russia, Tsarina is beautifully radiant, powerfully evocative of imperial splendor.

Notes for Ormonde Jayne Tsarina:
top : mandarin, bergamot, coriander, cassis
heart : hedione, freesia, jasmine, sambac, iris, suede
base : sandalwood, cedar, vanilla bean base, labdanum, musk

Tsarina is available exclusively at the Ormonde Jayne boutiques in London, UK.

Related reading on Perfume Shrine: Nawab of Oudh by Ormonde Jayne fragrance review (4 Corners of the Earth line), Ormonde Jayne news and fragrance reviews.

Parfums MDCI Promesse de l’Aube: Fragrance Review

"With maternal love, life makes a promise at dawn that it can never hold. You are forced to eat cold food until your days end. After that, each time a woman holds you in her arms and against her chest, these are merely condolences. You always come back to yell at your mother’s grave like an abandoned dog. Never again, never again, never again."
―Romain Gary, La Promesse de l'aube (1960)

by guest writer AlbertCAN

There. The mandatory quote from Romain Gary’s La Promesse de l’aube (translated into the English title “Promise at Dawn”), the autobiography which the fragrance is supposedly named after*. I am getting that out of the way because I still cannot—for the life of me—figure out the connection between the book and the fragrance. And I have owned Francis Kurkdjian’s composition for many, many moons.

Yet somehow that’s the beauty of artistic transposition, isn’t it? Ideas attributed to something else altogether. It’s as if one discovers that Luis Buñuel’s psychological sexual liberation Belle de Jour (1967) is actually based on Joseph Kessel’s 1928 thinly veiled cautionary tale of the same title about a young garçonne’s indiscretions and her eventual fall from grace. One story, two completely different tales! Or realizing that Truman Capote’s Holly Golightly takes after Marilyn Monroe in the original 1958 novella, really a kooky gamine who rather explores the whole wide world than resolving her insecurities. (Monroe, in turn, was considered for the starring role in the 1961 cinematic adaptation: her bid, however, pretty much dashed after her demand of getting paid in Tiffany diamonds. The more affordable Audrey Hepburn came into the picture—and becoming the highest paid actress of her time in the process. Much to Capote’s chargrin, however, and understandably he never embraced Hollywood’s vision on his beatnik tale.) Somehow that is the way I have felt about Promesse de l’Aube (2006): probably not exactly what Romain Gary had in mind when describing his youth, but a transcendental beauty in its own right nonetheless.

Parfum MDCI describes Promesse de l’Aube as an oriental floral “pour le jour” (daytime wear), but truth to be told the overall sheen and aura are just shy of the modern chypre terrain. Structurally it has also been favourably compared to Guerlain Attrape-Coeur, though not having the opportunity to experience Mathilde Laurent’s creation I cannot objectively comment on that matter. Still, the word honeyed comes to mind upon describing the opening Promesse de l’Aube; although the requisite graces of bergamot, mandarin and lemon are present, the focal point is more apricot-glossed in sensorium, candied yet delicate in tow. One can almost mistaken the olfactory refraction as the offshoot of a vibrant peach, but such is not the focus, at least not in the sense of the classic grande dame tone, how unctuously fruity Persicol is in Guerlain Mitsouko (1919). Instead, imagine a quality French citrus-apricot confit, say, from Fauchon: poised, polished, but knowingly with that touch of restrained decadence. The apricot here is that necessary gloss above the rigorously made crème anglaise and pâte sable, that requisite sheen on the French confections.

And that sheen gets subsequently buoyed by the white florals, of ylang ylang and jasmine. Knowning Kurkdjian’s style my money is also on orange blossom—not in the sense of the absolute but more of a modern accord with methyl anthranilate and the salicylates—but alas such is not listed. This is where having an unrestrained development budget factors in, the floral elements having a proper heft and sheen without the all-too-commonplace screech in its sillage before the balsamic elements (tonka bean and vanilla) ushering in the modern musks, along with the woods such as Indian sandalwood to give off an air of billowing cloud somewhere within the vicinity of a modern chypre.

Here lies the contradiction within Promesse de l’Aube: the compositional style nudges on the late fifties side with its solemnity and structure, yet the overall sweep is nimble and modern. To this day I am still doing double takes on its theme: the cerebral side of me knows all too well that an oriental floral is at play, yet from time to time I wouldn’t think twice about enlisting the base as a modern chypre...

Is it worth its hefty price tag? Ringing the affirmative. To me here the phrase “promesse de l’aube” is more literal, a take on l’aube without the fear of not delivering on la promesse.

For more information on the perfumes, flacons and on how to order, please contact Parfums MDCI
Photo: Promesse de l’Aube from LuckyScent.
* For a basic summary of the book please refer to this literary review.

Pétale Noir by Agent Provocateur: new fragrance

British lingerie brand Agent Provocateur will launch its fourth fragrance (after the original Agent Provocateur eau de parfum, L'Agent and Maitresse)— called Pétale Noir — this Valentine’s Day with a coordinating Luxury Body Elixir, according to WWD.

The cult lingerie brand further elaborates: "[Pétale Noir] is a deep floral scent with a hint of oriental mystique. The launch of the new Pétale Noir fragrance personifies the modern and naturally confident woman, but be warned, she knows what she wants and knows how to get it. The fragrance is made with the finest of oils featuring dramatic florals for the heart and precious woods, enhanced by musk crystals and sweet spicy accords that ignite the senses. A rich, vintage rose pink juice, perfectly complements the delicately floral, and beautifully shaped sensual bottle. Yet beware, things are not how they seem as the soft petals make way for dangerous prickly thorns. This contrast in mood is further emphasised by a striking black chain around the neck, symbolising the stark suggestive passion that binds us together".

Serge Lutens Une Voix Noire: fragrance review & draw

The melancholic timbre of Billie Holiday's voice, the "black voice" behind the inspiration for Serge Lutens's latest Paris-exclusive perfume, is reverberating through the unusual paths of the fumes rising from the bell-jar bottle with its beautiful brownish, maroon almost, shade of juice inside. The waxy, thick petals of gardenia with their irresistible browning that is poised between sweet rot and carnal abandon have a way of capturing hearts like mine...and Billie's too, who wore one tucked beneath her ear as a trademark. But to designate just gardenia to Une Voix Noire would be doing it a disservice.

Guy Bourdin photo via thinmoonsugar.blogspot.com

Gardenia and tuberose are olfactory allies in crime. Both nocturnal creatures with creamy white blossoms which exude a kaleidoscope of weird and wondrous facets, from sharp greenness that recalls camphor, to blue cheese and mould, all the way to meat rotting in the heat to help attract various pollinators, they're fascinating flowers to cultivate in a warm climate that oozes with the dangerous atmosphere of a film noir. Lutens and his trusty perfumer Chris Sheldrake have been no strangers to tuberose's wiles thanks to Tubereuse Criminelle with its jarring contrast of rough edge against smooth silk.
But Une voix Noire is to gardenia a new take on the flower, less simplistic and more complex, with an abstract background that brings it closer to a Bois variation than a fleshy, photorealistic photo of the opulent flower with its blue cheese timbre that Tom Ford put in the forefront for his (now discontinued) Velvet Gardenia or the spring-like styralyl acetate greenness it exhibits in Lauder's life-like, budding Private Collection Tuberose Gardenia. The candied plumminess of the cedar & fruits base is certainly progeny of the Feminite du Bois school of mock dilettantes (posing as less serious than in reality) and the rich, satisfying, warmly honeyed core to be explored on further wearings would be most pleasurably received by those who have enjoyed Mary Greenwell's Plum, Botytris, Jar's Jardenia and -naturally- the rest of the Lutensian series of "woody" cedar & fruits melange fragrances.

The perfumer and the art director play in chiaroscuro with extreme grace in Une voix Noire, bringing on an opening tuberose-gardenia note that is fresh and real but dissipates fast into clean and metallic notes that ring like cold air in the stillness of the night. Smoky and indolic, almost animalic facets slowly reveal themselves, darkening the proceedings through a sweetish, leathery, tobacco and boozy (rum, according to the official notes) phase which creates an effect worthy of a blues singer velvety sighing her pain into hard vinyl.

Like Billie's voice, Une Voix Noire is indelible...lasting a lifetime and then some.



Une Voix Noire is a Paris-exclusive Lutens fragrance available as Eau de Parfum 75ml in the bell jar bottles.

For our readers, a generous decant of the new Une Voix Noire is available. Draw is open internationally till Friday 28th midnight. Just answer in the comments what "a black voice" conjures up for you to be eligible. Draw is now closed, thank you!

Related reading on Perfume Shrine: Serge Lutens news & fragrance reviews

Etat Libre d'Orange Bijou Romantique: fragrance review

~You let yourself be impressed by that sailor with the pierced ear?

~But no...

Caïn to Pandora Groosvenore (nicknamed "bijou romantique" by said sailor) in Hugo Pratt's La ballata del mare salato/ La ballade de la mer salee comics book starring Corto Maltese

The French have a saying "le parfum bijou" denoting both the literal sense (a perfume carried in a jewel receptible) and the metaphorical (a fragrance that adorns and highlights the beauty of its wearer). Bijou Romantique by Etat Libre d'Orange comes with little of the irreverence that the French brand exhibits and plenty of the beautyfying factor. I'd call it féérique myself (fairy-like, fairy-made). It's delicate, lovely, and oddly savoury, breaking the impression we have of oriental gourmand (i.e. dessert-like) perfumes into tiny slivers, much as it was done with Etat Libre d'Orange Fils de Dieu, their other new release for 2012. Bijou Romantique stops just short of being "skanky" or "dirty" (in a good way) -see Amaranthine by Penhaligon's- offering a deceptive "bombshell" fragrance for those women (and the adventurous men sharing it) who demand that their perfume acts as morale boosting for those approaching them. An appeal as timeless as the beauty whose virtue has a "price far above rubies", a Scriptures phrase that serves as the motto for the company.

Composed by perfumer Mathilde Bijaoui it's no wonder; it was Mathilde who signed the critically acclaimed Tilda Swinton Like This, you see, and she's also the composer of that controversial ~but eminently interesting~ accord of fig and caviar in Thierry Mugler's Womanity.

With Bijou Romantique Bijaoui offers a nuanced composition that hovers on the precipice between savory and sweet, rich and satisfying, exploiting the subtle chocolate-like facets of iris and vetiver and contrasting them with the natural creaminess of vanilla and benzoin resin with a fresh lemony top note. Laboratoire Mane’s captive Evee ® molecule bridges the gap between the sweet elements and the soft rosy spices. As Bijaoui explains herself in an interview on French TV: "My luck at Mane is to have an important team of researchers constantly developing new molecules and finalizing new extraction techniques. Thanks to their extraction technique called "Jungle Essence" we perfumers at Mane, were able to create a new olfactory family, the sweet/savory family. The Jungle Essence technology allowed us to extract scents never extracted before: fig and caviar. Jungle Essence offers new possibilities, new scents, using ingredients non extractable through conventional methods. (nuts, coconut…) The Jungle Essence process produces a natural extract. This extract can be directly used in perfumed or flavoured compositions."
In Bijou Romantique the proceedings take on a darker, more complex character in the main plot, thanks to the inclusion of a musky-woody background where the sweet-liquorice note of patchouli is clearly detectable. Patchouli is of course a beloved niche fragrances element, coming back from the hippie 1960s with a vengeance, but in contrast to Nobril Immense by the same company where it's too potent, too sweet, here it's nuanced with the protagonist: the ripe fruity note of tropical ylang ylang and the soft rosy nuance of pink pepper.

Tender, inviting and multi-facetted, Bijou Romantique is like a nostalgic cameo pinned on the edge of a low neckline. Farewell Pandora!

The transparency and cozy gourmand factor of Bijou Romantique is sure to entice those who liked The Different Company's Oriental Lounge or Fendi's discontinued (but marvellous) Theorema and might be of interest for anyone exploring niche gourmand perfumes (such as the Micallef line Les Notes Gourmandes or those by Les Néréides)

Notes for Etat Libre d'Orange Bijou Romantique:

Bergamot, Italian lemon, pink pepper essence, ylang-ylang, clary sage, Tuscan iris, Jungle Essence coconut, Haitian vetiver, patchouli, benzoin, vanilla.

Bijour Romantique is available as Eau de Parfum 50ml at the official site, Henri Bendels, MiN New York and online from Luckyscent and Les Santeurs.

pic via http://ilmioblog-lu.blogspot.com and http://avozportalegrense.blogspot.com

Patricia de Nicolai Kiss Me Tender: fragrance review

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

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

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

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

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

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

Armani Prive La Femme Bleue: fragrance review

The Armani Privé collection falls under the scope of "niche fragrances within mainstream houses" trend; exclusive, upscale compositions that are often several notches above the widely available scents by the same company (see Cuir Amethyste and Bois d'Encens). La Femme Bleue, setting you back for £375/400euros for 100ml of Eau de Parfum, is very much on the exclusive side, given that it has been made in only 1000 bottles worldwide (and it's not available in just any country! whoa!). So I was fully prepared to hate it (isn't that stratagem & pricetag obscene?), but, alas, I was hasty.

Giorgio Armani's La Femme Bleue is a lovely iris fragrance; nuanced, darkish, with its woody and incensey background and, despite the passing resemblance with iris extraordinaire Iris Silver Mist by Serge Lutens, soft, powdery, ultimately unctuous. Plus, despite having the word Femme in the name, the designer himself is quick to point out that this is a unisex scent, as is the whole Privé collection. What more can one ask for? Perhaps some dare.

The Armani Privé collection can be divided into three genres: fresh and clean-smelling Les Eaux; La Collection ~inspired by precious stones like amethyst or jade; and the decadent Collection Mille et Une Nuits (A Hundred and One Nights Collection). This is the range that includes Oud Royal, an opulent melange of amber, spice and myrrh resin. The line is not without its celebrity endorsement: Charlene Wittsock, Princess of Monaco, who wore an Armani Privé wedding gown, also wore an Armani Privé fragrance on her "happiest day"; reportedly it was the new ultra-limited edition La Femme Bleue.

The deep blue of the bottle is a direct reflection on the Spring/Summer 2011 collection by Armani, inspired by the blue tint of the Alasho of the Twareg people of the desert, nomads of North Africa.
The colour of the nighttime sky has often been an inspiration for perfumers and bottle manufacturers, starting with the iconic L'Heure Bleue for Jacques Guerlain as well as Dawamesk, passing through modern offerings such as Jacomo Deep Blue and Dark Blue by Hugo Boss, all the way to the upcoming Vol de Nuit Powder Spray bottle in gorgeous shades of midnight.

The perfumer Serge Majoullier is a talent to watch. He explains how he put the concept (the deep indigo) into fragrance:

"It’s not easy to translate the idea of deep blue, I found the way by blending oriental and vanilla notes, perfect to evoke a hot starry night; so I added black iris [ed.note: I'm assuming he's referring to iris chyrophrages], which is dark blue in nature, and whose scent at times verges on chocolate, a woody background. This way the fragrance is not just floral".

This Armani fragrance feels like Haute Parfumerie and not just hot air fanned on ad copy, as many niche products do these days:  The delicious undercurrent of cocoa dust laces the background of iris (this is an experiment that is also successful at much lower price points in Bulgari's Blv Notte and Iris by L'Erbolario) resulting in a fragrance that cannot be said to evoke funereal connotations like so many iris scents can; notably Iris Silver Mist, to which it bears a kinship of the spirit.  After all, iris susiana, a greyish species of Iris, is affectionately called "mourning iris", so the connection is there all right. But no; not in this case. La Femme Bleue is not exactly cheerful or bubbly either, opting for a distinctive and elegant arpeggio of woody notes that surround and temper the slightly gourmand, orientalised aspects of cocoa and vanillic-benzoin caramel hints with some musk. Softness and a delicious powdery feel akin to violets greet you upon spraying, with hints of sensuality evolving as the fragrance dries down, even though it is a delicate, timid drydown that you might want to press your nose on your wrist to fully enjoy. I could picture myself enjoying this ultra exclusive fragrance if it was any easier to get ahold of.

Notes for Armani Prive La Femme Bleue: iris, chocolate, woodsy notes, incense and vanilla.

Below is the clip from the summer 2011 collection by the same name featuring Elisa Seidanoui. Enjoy!



Painting Black Iris by Georgia O'Keefe (1906).

Creed Vanisia: fragrance review

Vanisia by Creed does not smell like pure unadulterated vanilla as the name would lead you to believe, thank heavens. It reminds me more of a lighter Égoïste by Chanel if that one put the sandalwood into the boudoir and puffed it and puffed it with lots of ambery rose-jasmine powder that gives a golden shimmer over mounty breasts. T

The resinous depths of its core, a complex and satisfyingly rich amber accord, recall the play between light and darkness in the paintings of the Spanish masters; dramatic expanses of vivid motion, shadowy corners that hide small details with significance that doesn't pass unnoticed. The double whammy of a misleading name and the wrong company (few houses are more derisive!) just conspired it to make it a very under the radar fragrance. Which is exactly why I decided to get the scalpel and start surgery on this page.

The "barbershop" effect makes its presence known in Vanisia via a faint lavender note (a classic combination, best appreciated in Pour Un Homme by Caron which is almost solely lavender and vanilla) as well as what smells like cedar, which makes it wearable for men as well.

Women will naturally gravitate to it for its sexy factor, best appreciated in the depths of the base notes, although I need to stress that you need to be a lover of ambers to appreciate it. It's quite powdery in a mature, retro way, with hints of soap as well, an oxymoron amidst the sultry tonalities that remind classic references with more than a hint of ambery"skank" such as Bal a Versailles and Tabu. Lovers of Guerlain Samsara might also find a complex beast to like and claim as their own. But they should be warned that it smells unashamedly mature, probably best reserved for those who already have other youth-ammunition under their belt; this is not a "spritz me with grapefruit and let me fool you into believing I'm 7 years younger" gimmicky. It's said by Creed that Cher likes this one and wears it: figures...

I am personally a little bit at odds with Vanisia: On the one hand I like the tempered amber character that doesn't imbue everything with a sticky candy floss note and includes that familiar ambergris Creed base. On the other hand I find there is some incongruence between the after-shave accord on top and the floral oriental core. Lately I have been unlucky into coming across bottles that seemed to be a little off, metallic and more "masculine" than I recall the scent to be. I am not sure if we're facing a reformulation or not (the tester bottles didn't look pristine brand new) or if there is fake stock circulating, which is surely the case for other Creeds. It would be interesting to hear from you in the comments if you have other experiences with that matter.

Vanisia was launched in 1987, supposedly for a Spanish queen, and is mostly unknown/unacknowledged till this day, although one of their more rounded fragrances.

Notes for Creed Vanisia:
Top: bergamot
Heart: jasmine and Bulgarian rose
Base: sandalwood, amber and vanilla

Painting The Parasol by Francisco de Goya.

Puredistance I & Puredistance M, master perfumes: fragrance reviews

The ultra-exclusive (and ultra-expensive) Puredistance perfumes prove that not all such claims are bogus: Here are fragrances worth the trouble of going to lengths to sample them at the very least: They're rich, smooth, very luxurious-feeling indeed and even if the campaign is positioned to extol the exclusivity factor, the jus does deliver each and every time. The current collection includes Puredistance I, Puredistance M and Antonia, the latter of which I intend to come back to in the near future.

Puredistance the brand was founded by Jan Ewoud Vos in Vienna, Austria. If you have ever been to Vienna, you can't have failed to notice how it's probably the most civilized place on planet earth: a place where music flows forth endlessly from every street corner, people smile to each other in the streets in greeting (I'm talking perfect strangers here) and the elegant center of art attracts artists and free thinkers from all over the world in peaceful co-existence of different idiosyncrasies. The world famous Wiener Werkstätte (a production community of visual artists founded in 1903 by the artists Josef Hoffmann and Koloman Moser) is characterized by pure lines and minimal decoration and it is this which provided the inspiration for Puredistance lean lines in Swarovski crystal for their bottles.
Jan Ewoud Vos says: "Since several decades, people have conceived a very distinct image of what a perfume is about. And that image does not fit Puredistance. This will make it harder for us to be noticed. Puredistance is not made to last for a few years, like most new perfumes do, it’s made to last forever. Therein also lies strength. We don’t need to rush things. It will take time, but it will happen. For as I’m concerned: also this is predestinated. Real beauty will never go unnoticed.".

Before you start rolling your eyes like I was before actually testing them out, let me state this once again: These are quality fragrances that last especially long, come in parfum concentration that is delightfully smooth-smelling and provide that can't-knock-it feeling like a million bucks mood. Now let's get down and start salivating over the details.

Puredistance I is the first creation of the Puredistance company; a floral oriental, which was created by Annie Buzantian from Firmenich, NY, on a formula she had been working for years. Byzantian considers it her favorite perfume and her personal Masterpiece, which should be a foregone conclusion as it began as a quest for creating her own personal scent. Puredistance I feels like Chanel No.5, Guerlain's Cruel Gardénia and Narciso Musk for Her (the precious oil parfum) fused into one crystal clear and delightfully "clean", lightly soapy-lightly powdery melody on skin. It's practically purring with delight on my arms, its cool and warm facets competing for center stage all the while. That element which makes No.5 so compelling, the muskiness that exalts the idea of freshly scrubbed bodies which exude their own natural scent, is reprised here in a composition that infuses a little powderiness into the fresh almost ozone top notes that surprises and enchants. Annie Byzantian eschewed the traditional "luxe" techniques (raw materials that scream "I'm expensive", heavy character to denote richness etc) and instead provided a streamlines, seamless formula that feels timeless. You don't have to stink to high heavens to prove your mettle as a perfume aficionado: Here is proof that a subtle, elegant, "fluted" approach is just as memorable.
The composition is a sophisticated floriental with fresh opening (magnolia and an ozone-watery lily of the valley accord) and an overall floral and soft character which shimmers delicately like rose gold set with tiny diamonds on lily-like fingers. The more you leave it on skin the more it gains in soapy-powdery feel, quite delicate and feminine to the core, like exploring a woman's intimate secrets revealed only in the quiet of the night. The white musk and sandalwood are what remains poised when the sing of the birds at dawn has echoed through the night chambers and the sweet embraces are over.

Notes for Puredistance I include tangerine blossom, cassis, neroli bigarade, magnolia, rose wardia, jasmine, parmenthia, natural mimosa, amber, vetiver and white musk.
The perfume extract contains 32 % perfume oil which makes for a very long-lasting experience; you will wake up to the beautiful scent still lingering on your pillow.
The limited edition Crystal Masterpiece is available as:
A Crystal & 24 carat Gold version - 2048 pieces (2750 Euro retail)
A Crystal & high-grade Steel version - 4824 pieces (1750 Euro retail)
The separately available refill, a 17.5 ml. perfume spray (165 Euro)

Thankfully Puredistance DO sell the refills without you having to fork out so much cash for the crystal flacons, beautiful as they are, so if you're just after the juice, here's the option: just ask them for details & stockists (site info on the bottom)


Puredistance M is a wonderful leather fragrance that is perfectly unisex (M can stand for male, but it could also be thought of as upside down, aka W, aka, for women!). Conceived as giving the luxurious sensation of sitting snugly inside the new leather interior of a grey Aston Martin, preferably on Her Majesty's Secret Service, it feels exactly like that: warm, comfortable, expensive, very satisfied with itself. Puredistance M Perfume was made in London by Roja Dove, famous for his own bespoke and semi-bespoke line at Harrods where he directs the Haute Parfumerie, as well as his position at Guerlain for years. Puredistance M is made from a high concentration of perfume oil (25%) and available as a 17.5 ml. perfume spray in a metal grey giftbox or a leather case for the purse (or that glove compartment of that grey Aston Martin!) besides the more expensive crystal presentations.

To me Puredistance M feels like a clove-y leather fragrance reminiscent of retro fragrances that hard-core aficionados appreciate, such as En Avion by Caron; it's delightfully sensuous and uncompromising with a smoother underside than the Caron forebearer, all tactile satisfaction caressing the plush. In the first moments the spicy cinnamon-clove tinge embracing a discernible rose, is prominent, creating a vintage ambience with the slightly bitter nuances of leather in the mix, while the more it stays on skin the more it softens and becomes a skin scent with a faint whiff of ambery-musky sweetness that is delectable.

I know these are not Austrian images I'm going to conjure, but it's like the best things about 1960s Sean Connery and Michael Kaine in Alfie rolled into one and they produced an imaginary super-child that would smell of Puredistance M. I'm totally smitten!

Notes for Puredistance M include bergamot, Amalfi lemon, jasmine, rose, carnation, cinnamon, cloves, vetiver, patchouli, French cistus labdanum, oakmoss, musk, woods, and leather.

The Puredistance perfumes are available on the official Puredistance site, Harrods at London, Lianne Tio's boutique in Rotherdam (the one famous for her Goutal fragrances), at The Scent Bar in Los Angeles and other boutiques around the world (Find a complete list of retailers here).

Pics of Catherine Deneuve and Michael Kaine via Life magazine.
Disclosure: I was sent tiny samples of the perfumes from the manufacturer.

Dior Hypnotic Poison Eau Sensuelle: fragrance review

Doing the Lutenesque visuals for Hypnotic Poison Eau Sensuelle is not enough. Although purple hues and mysteriously shut eyelids with a sophisticated maquillage on them (by Tyen, no less) have a way of drawing a perfumista's attention, the juice has to be really original in a galaxy of flankers adorning Sephora shelves to equally capture devotion. And it's not circulating on American perfumery countertops, you say?


The original Hypnotic Poison by Annick Menardo, with its trippy bitter almond and caraway opening, managed to jolt sniffers into a "love or hate" mnemonic sense (much like all her other perfumes do too, like for instance Black by Bulgari or Lolita Lempicka by Lolita Lempicka). There's simply no way to be indifferent to it! Of course even within the same fragrance spectrum there are the ultraviolet and the infrared ends: The Eau de Parfum concentration of the original Hypnotic Poison is the former; intensely bitter and fluorescent at the beginning like underground dance clubs with "black lights" over you and with a pythonesque grip on its audience. While the Eau de Toilette shares the latter's nightime vision ability, permeating a place and its wearer in a warm incadescence; almost a homing device.
To take the light analogy on spot, Hypnotic Poison Eau Sensuelle seems like long-wave infrared or "thermal imaging": a completely passive picture of the objects in question based on their own thermal emissions only, rather than any external light or thermal source. Basically, if you got it, it will not oppose it, but it can't "work for you" otherwise.

The latest Christian Dior flanker in the Poison series, Hypnotic Poison Eau Sensuelle, is essentially a vanilla orchid floral fantasy composed by François Demachy, a more floral variation on the best-selling 1998 Hypnotic Poison minus the frightful originality.
Hypnotic Poison Eau Sensuelle opens with the slightly medicinal facets of dominant ylang ylang, soon mollified by rosa Damascena with its feminine, velvet character, almost cancelling out the medicinal. Although tuberose is listed in the notes, the effect is nowhere near the strange, cubist renditions of tuberose soliflores of niche perfumery, instead boosting a faceless rendition rather than the sex beast on steroids. The vanillic-ambery facets (plus a hint of cumin) are played in favour of the previous woody notes which conspired to make the 1998 Hypnotic Poison the non-sweet, powdery gourmand it is. Eau Sensuelle feels more floral and more "acceptable" standard vanillic, the same way that No.5 Eau Premiere is a lighter, more vanillic but less musky version of the original Chanel No.5. Only Dior's does not have as silky an effect as the Chanel's.

Still, those who didn't really like Hypnotic Poison or just couldn't "tame the beast" (it's no coincidence it's advertised with a python encircling Bellucci's voluptuous body menacingly!), will find this essentially watered down version to their liking. And this probably explains the reasoning behind its concept by LVMH in the first place. Is it a bad fragrance, then? No, but it won't make it into the next 50 years like the original Hypnotic Poison will, most probably.

The bottle reprises the shape of Hypnotic Poison’s in deep-red, subtly translucent glass, topped with a cabochon cap that looks purple, red or mauve, depending on the light. Really great work. Be aware that the outer box is VERY similar to the original Hypnotic Poison with only the Eau Sensuelle in small typeface below the name: therefore attention is required when buying so as not to confuse the two!
Available from major department stores in Europe in 50ml/1.7oz, 100ml/3.4oz and 100ml/3.4oz spray deodorant.

Notes for Dior Hypnotic Poison Eau Sensuelle:
Top: ylang ylang, rose, orange blossom
Heart: orchid, tuberose, green notes
Base: sandalwood, vanilla, woods, musk.

Related reading on Perfume Shrine: The differences between all the Dior Poison fragrances (the original 80s Poison, Tendre, Hypnotic, Pure, Midnight and their Elixir versions)

photos via sunshinereiki.ca, blog.hola.com, brusselsisburning

Prada L'Eau Ambree: fragrance review

L'Eau Ambrée, maestra Miuccia’s latest fragrance, talks with the whispers of a ghost; an ectoplasmic take on the dry woody, patchouli and ~most imporantly~ ambery core of the original Prada fragrance mingled with the saline note of Eau de Merveilles that reproduced the scent of ambergris rather than sweet resinous amber (For more on the differences between amber and ambergris read this article). Ghost-like in its evanescence, gossamer-light, leaving behind but the memory of someone living in a grey-hued photograph that captures its ether.

This new gouache of an oriental is possibly the most skin-scent-like Prada ever issued, even more so than Infusion d'iris. One could even consider it an embryo of the idea of an "oriental" for the next decade and beyond: Will it induce hallucinations of orientalia beneath the gauzy veil to the modern day sylphids who worship at the altar of austere Prada? It remains to be seen. I see it as a step in that direction and the beginning of a new trend in perfumery.
Lovers of diaphanous ambergris creations and those able to smell Isabelle Doyen's L'Antimatière by Les Nez might find something to take them through every eventuality: The fragrance enters the scene in a light-through-the-tunnel vista, all hazy linings, via its refreshing top (which isn't quite as citrusy as purported nor is it rosy, but it's certainly cypress-like and with a micro-facet of white flowers tucked in someplace inside). And then it takes on a little tone of sweet, slightly salty sweat musk, not a tetrapod's raunchy howl, but the smell of seashore in spring and the bodies that lie down on its fluffy texture (cozy musks with no big sweetness have this effect). Yet the refinement of the drydown is so delicate that it could find its way along with your Prada frames and eponymous canvas tote to the office. And surprisingly for such a light scent it lasts too with a lingering trail, which as March put it: "It dries down and fades away but has a habit of popping up again and again, all day long".
According to Prada, 'L’Eau Ambrée is a perfume that ‘imposes itself discreetly with the perfect balance of classic influences and of modernity that is characteristic of Prada fragrances. This eau ‘twines complexity, freshness and harmony’ around a sleek, contemporary amber'.

L'Eau Ambrée, the latest in the Prada amber-based perfumes (amber is in the original Prada, as well as in Prada pour homme) was developed by perfumer Daniela Andrier and was launched this past September, with the expectation to be a permanent mainstay in the line unlike the ephemeron Infusion de Fleurs d'oranger.
Prada’s original bottle has taken a dark mantle here, adorned with a golden plaque instead of the silver of the original.

Prada L'Eau Ambrée is available through major department stores in Eau de Parfum 1oz/30ml, 1.7oz/50ml and 2.7oz/100ml.; Eau de parfum Deluxe refillable atomizer (with spray bulb) 2.7 oz/100ml and 2.7-oz./100ml refill; Body Lotion 6.8 oz./200ml; Bath & Shower Gel 6.8 oz./200ml; Body Cream 6.8 oz./200ml; Powder with powder puff 3.5 oz/100ml.

Notes for Prada L’Eau Ambrée:
Top: Citron, citrus, mandarin from Italy
Heart: Rose, gardenia jasminoides, patchouli
Base: Amber, vanilla, oppoponax

The advertisments are lovingly retro in an almost frieze-reprising way: a cheeky manner of eschewing the sexy-mania of other houses, a deliberate abhoring of seduction that comes from the mind of a true Marxist designer not interested in the man-hunting games of the western tradition, Miuccia Prada.





Michigan Central Station ghost, photo by Nicole Rork via michpics.wordpress.com
Acropolis Parthenon Hydrophoroi scene from the East frieze. Clips originally uploaded by gottalovebirds and stylistaonline on youtube