Dior Poison Girl (2016): fragrance review

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

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

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

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

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

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

Prescriptives Calyx: fragrance review & history

Part of PerfumeShrine's regular Underrated Perfume Day feature, I'm inspired to talk of Calyx because it strikes me as the Prometheus of hardcore (if such a strong word can be used for the genre) fruity fragrances that have dominated the late 1990s, the 2000s and 2010s market so far (and in part a culprit for the emergence of fruitchouli). Coming out as far back as 1986, an uplifting tart tropical punch splashed all over a tan California blonde right out of the shower, it subsisted on the other edge of hope, pitted as it was against the likes of Coco by Chanel, Opium by YSL, Dior's original Poison or Giorgio Beverly Hills.

Still, the cosmetics brand that issued it, Prescriptives (since out of business, except for this fragrance which is still in production and now distributed via Clinique counters), part of the Lauder Group, had the necessary market cojones to sustain its sales for years. The pure, custom-tailored image of their cosmetics was a natural fit for the idea of a pure, celestially squeezed perfume which back then had none of the connotations of sugary hard candy stickiness and hair salon peach/apple waft we associate with fruity fragrances today. Its perfumer, Sophia Grojsman, is famous for her clean but potent accords, which make use of a very different idea of feminine allure than the standard "vintage" and European concept of animalic scents that enhance -rather than conceal- the odorata sexualis and hide cigarette smoke remnants off Old World garments. Calyx was the culmination of American Artemis versus European Aphrodite: the "lean, mean, clean machine" was coming on scene for good and Lauder (who oversaw Prescriptives) had already built a generous following thanks to their sparkling clean fragrances such as White Linen and Estee. Grojsman was put to record elaborating on the cachet of fruit as feminine nectar saying "some fruit accords, like the one in Calyx, have a very pure quality. It's a different kind of sexuality, more innocent than the animal notes…And men like innocence. To them it is sexy…Fruit also carries a connotation of sin. Where would Adam and Eve have been without that apple?"

This assertion is in a nutshell the axiom of feminine mental submission. In a way these fruity scents seem to me as if they're not so subtly introducing a regression on feminism. Woman becomes a pliable little girl again, fresh and unknowing in her virginal, not yet sexualized body, which awaits the all prescient male to do the plucking. It is important to note that contrary to similar concepts of youthful, nubile allure brandished in European brand fragrances of the time (such as Loulou by Cacharel) the girl in question is never presented to be aware of her own erotic capital as an authentic Lolita would be. Rather the innocence is poised as a halo around her, a scent message of total abandon of control. Where's the temptation of the knowledgeable apple, I question.

Calyx doesn't smell of apple either. It smells of a neon cascade of grapefruit (though like with Un Jardin sur le Nil with its illusion of green mango there is no essence of the illusory fruit in question in the formula), boosted by guava and papaya (which give an almost overripe scent bordering on garbage if you really notice it) and a cluster of more traditional, zestful fruit notes (namely the citrusy mandarin and bergamot for uplifting elegance and the lactonic peach and apricot for comfort & skin compatibility). The weird thing with Calyx is that the standard cool-steam-room of lily of the valley heart with its transparent florals from a distance is flanked by a little berry underpinning on the bottom and transparent woody notes that rely on bombastic synthetics. The feeling earned nevertheless is one of celestial, mental awareness rather than one of tropical languor on Bora Bora sand dunes all smeared in Coppertone lotion and for that unique reason it deserves a place in the lesser pantheon of perfumes worth giving a second chance to, feminism aside.

The full list of Notes for Prescriptives Calyx includes:
Top: mandarin, passionfruit, peach, mango, bergamot, grapefruit, papaya, guava, mint, cassia.
Heart: cyclamen, lily of the valley, jasmine, rose, neroli, marigold, melon.
Base: vetiver, oakmoss, sandalwood, musk, raspberry.

Neela Vermeire Creations Bombay Bling!: fragrance review

What do we know of India really? Its people say सत्यमेव जयते (i.e. truth alone triumphs), a motto inscribed in all local currency, but to our western mind this vast country is a tapestry of so colorful a thread and such intricate a yearn that it is almost impossible to exhaust it if one had two lifetimes over to do so. Bombay Bling! by Neela Vermeire Créations aims to give us a glimpse of this tapestry. Testing it I was expecting to savor this complexity; to paraphrase Dracula addressing Harker before coming to London, I so longed to go through the crowded streets of your mighty Bombay, to be in the midst of the whirl and the rush of humanity, to share its life, its changes, its deaths. The fragrance didn't disappoint. On the contrary. It rekindled the desire to go to India again, to merge myself with it.

Source: behance.net via Kjirsten on Pinterest

Bombay Bling! by Neela Vermeire is meant to fuse the dichotomy of India: the advances of the economic world and the colorful culture. The underbelly of the big city combined with the glitter of Bollywood on the vast sandy stretches of Juhu beach and the Queen’s necklace. Fortunes made and lost on the Bombay stock exchange and gambling dens of Mumbai. Beyond the Deccan plateau's archeological ruins...a figurative arm's length beyond the place where Alexander the Great wept, his fate, glory and dreams behind him, before him only the sea...where the cenotaphs of rajputs of Jaisalmer lie... there, in that still shrouded land a giant is stretching its legs and testing its strength; India. An exuberant fragrance, Bombay Bling! takes as a point of departure the mingling of tart, juicy fruits (an unripe mango veering into citrusy tang) squirted over lush flowers of the subcontinent and underscored with a humming woody backdrop. The deep, earthy sweetness of patchouli leaves blends with the banana note of the ylang. Brown sugar and cumin-like intimacy, like when you're smelling a lover's sweat, dripping on sandalwood chippings; milky, soft drydown, yet radiant and fun loving, like a lime and paprika dish with a side of mango chutney. Above all Bombay Bling! is optimism in a bottle!

Bombay Bling! is part of the original trio of fragrances issued by Neela Vermeire Créations which also includes Trayee and Mohur (the fourth instalment, Ashoka, is launching soon). These Indian inspired perfumes, like Chants of India, draw upon the tradition, history and cultural milieu of that vast Eastern sub-continent in which Neela herself has roots. These are truly "transparent orientals", modern and wearable, and therefore it comes as no surprise that Neela commissioned Bertrand Duchaufour to compose them for her niche line.

They are all satisfying tenacious and project with varying force, with Trayee the most introverted and Bombay Bling the most extroverted. Their trail is delicious, creating a lasting impression.

Notes for Neela Vermeire Creations Bombay Bling:
Mango, lychee, blackcurrant, cardamom, cumin, cistus, Turkish rose, jasmine sambac, ylang-ylang, tuberose, plumeria, gardenia, patchouli, tobacco, sandalwood, cedar, vanilla

Bombay Bling! is available as an Eau de Parfum 55ml (in refillable flacons), available at select stockists and on www.neelavermeire.com, where you can find a discovery set

The song is of course originally from film Mother India (music by Ali Naushad Saab) but this is a very popular Greek-lyric version called "My poor heart, how can you bear it" (lyrics written in the 1960s by Demetris Goutis) hereby sung by Eleni Vitali. A small token of appreciation of one people to another...

Disclosure: I was a sample by Neela. 

Jean Paul Gaultier Classique: fragrance review & history

Uncanningly similar to the dressmaker's dummy bottle of Shocking by Schiaparelli (1935), a powerful and iconic animalic oriental of a long lost era, fashion's enfant terrible Jean Paul Gaultier began his career in perfumes with his own -originally eponymous (1993), later renamed Classique- Schocking copy bottle, that hid a floriental of intense sweetness and powderiness. The inspiration for Gaultier was his beloved and -we surmiss- glamorous grandmother's vanity with its vats of face powder and nail polish remover smelling of acetone. Interestingly the perfume however plays with this perception of femininity in nuanced ways which defy an accurate transliteration. Despite all that, it's a perfume I can't really stomach, but it deserves its own analysis.

Eye-Catching Looks for Classique
But it is the bottle and presentation that will go down in history, originally in a pink metal corset, later given a frosted glass costume over the smooth glass body of the bottle, so to speak; and then given all kind of variations in all the colours and patterns of the rainbow for limited editions and summer flankers. The box gives an avant-garde touch; like shipped cargo, functional and brown-beige, while the bottle is encased inside the box in a metal can, "like the ones for cat food at the supermarket", as Gaultier put it. Meow....
The commercials were equally eye-catching and memorable, with variations on the theme of femininity, conceived by master image creator Jean Baptiste Mondino to the soundtrack of Casta Diva from Bellini's Norma, as sung by Maria Callas.

Interestingly, if we're to examine the feminist and cultural subtext of the perfume visuals, the Jean Pauls Gaultier commercials themselves have become markedly tamer and tamer as the years went by, reflecting a more sedate "sexy" view of femininity, a conservative retake on the mistress which marks her man's memory with her perfume (alongside her corset and high heels; a panoply of restrictive femme gear that places woman on the pedestral of an object) Contrast with the eclectic bunch of sui generis characters sharing one common element: their love for JPG perfume from two decades ago. Or the apogee of quirkiness in a gay gender playing game in the combined commercials for Le Male and Classique from 2002.
Even the models were quirkier looking back then (Eve Salvail with her trademark shaved head, Kristen McMenamy with her irregular features...to the predictable beauty of Michelle Buswell) and we're just talking about nothing further than the 1990s.


Alice Classique commercial from 1995


Le Diner Classique commercial from 1997


Classique & Le Male commercial from 2002

Scent Description
The opening of Classique is rich in mandarin orange, peach, plum and cassis (a synthetic base that recaretes a berry/currant note), sherbety and sparkling-waxy thanks to the sheen provided by decanal (aldehyde C10), a characteristic element in the archetype No.5. The metaphor of nail polish is made through benzyl acetate, possessing jasmine-like and pear-drops notes. The heart is predictably rosy like the hue of the juice inside, with powerful cinnamic roses and damascones (synthesized molecules that give off intensely rosy-fruity tonalities) given an even fatter nuance by the inclusion of orange flower and ylang ylang, indolic and lushly sweet. A faint hint of spice is accounted by lily and ginger, but it's weak to really characterise the composition as a spicy floral; it resolutely stays within the sweet fruity floral with a wink to the floriental direction.
It is imperative that one loves powdery nuances in fragrances to like Classique, as the quite powdery base is built on a contrast of woody-amber Ambrox with vanillin, the two building to epic proportions of  intense diffusion. A little orris note opens an interesting discourse of dryness in the base, beneath the amber-vanilla there is a musky-earthy footnote with a hint of animal; perhaps an ironic meta-comment on Shocking itself by perfumer Jacques Cavallier? Not enough, hidden under the syrup...




Le Boudoir Classique commercial from 2007


L'Appartment Classique commercial from 2009

The Perfumer's References & the Zeitgeist
Cavallier did cite classics, such as Chanel No.5, within the formula but interjected modern elements as well resulting in what proved to be a contemporary commercial hit. You might be forgiven for thinking Classique is va-va-voom material, only it is so for those people who can't help being a bit too flamboyant. For all its intensity and almost cloying fruitiness, it escaped the seal of "powerhouse" that Dior's Poison or CK Obsession bore in the previous decade. The era was ripe for a disruptive aesthetic so  the blinding paleness of aquatics and the surypy element of "fruities" led this dance.

JPG's Classique consolidated its place by playing upon an idea that had already found its culmination in Lancome's Tresor in 1990: The peachy rosiness of Sophia Grosjman's modern classic had been the building block upon which a thousand beauty products from lotions and hair products to fine fragrance and fabric softener followed. Tresor's formula has plenty to admire in, but perhaps it's too ubiquitous to claim one's own. But whereas Tresor achieves the perilous balance of naturally lush bosom kept under decorum thanks to its solid perfume structure, Classique for all its rosy girlishness shows rather too much nipple for my taste.

L'Artisan Parfumeur Mandarine: fragrance review

Mandarine by L'Artisan Parfumeur began its "career" under a different guise: a limited edition bottle for summer 2006 under the name Mandarine Tout Simplement (i.e. Simply Mandarin), along with the regular line launch of Fou d'Absinthe, based on absinth. Mandarine is recently re-issued in the regular bottles of L'Artisan, in 50ml/1.7oz size, so it's fitting to give it a review.

Extremely true to the mandarin fruit, succulent and fresh and tart, Mandarine by L'Artisan Parfumeur is really as if you have piched your nails on the rind of a ripe mandarin, juice dribbling down your fingers, the tartness almost spritzing you in the eye. Then it fans out into a little indeterminable wood accord, of which cedar seems to be the main note. It's pretty simple and unadorned by weighty accents.
The succulent, lightly peachy-bubblegum note that you might detect after a while is due to frangipani. Nevertheless, this is not at all a floral perfume by any means, nor a floral fruity either. It stays resolutely within the realm of fruity woody. As soon as one sprays Mandarine one is transported to a sunny place, with a bowl of fruits on the porch and a summery frock on. Sunglasses optional : this is a friendly , not aloof scent at all. Rather sweet, but the tartness keeps it from being cloying.

Perfumer Olivia Giacobetti is known for her unusual watery creations that are far from the "marine" type of frags so typical of the 90s (witness the watery ambience in Navegar or her Preparation Parfumee for Andree Putman) and her beloved dough/yeast note (as in the cucumber-watery lilacs of En passant ), but here I can detect none. That's a good thing to me personally, because sometimes they ruin the perfume for me.
Mandarine makes you go "ahhhhh" at first sniff , but then it disappears suddenly. I have no trouble with most L'artisan fragrances and their staying power (I regularly wear Premier Figuier, Timbuktu,Oeillet Sauvage without problems to give you an idea), but of course citrus and hesperidic notes are volatile to begin with, hence the swift evaporation. For those who complain about short-lived staying power, that might be a concern. Now that it comes in a 50ml bottle, it would be a "killer" to have in your bag and spray away at the first opportunity.

More info on availability &shopping on the L'Artisan site.

Which is YOUR preferred fruity fragrance for summer? 

Painting of Mandarins via Sadie e Valeri blog

Cacharel Eden: fragrance review

Named after the primeval garden of creation, Eden by parfums Cacharel broke new ground back when it launched (1994) "for the first time ever, encompassing the exhilaration of spring with sensuality", or rather the first fruity-semioriental-aquatic. Yes, I know, it sounds like an improbable combination like bacon ice-cream, but it managed to smell enticing nevertheless.

At least it did to me for the first bottle or so. Later I became bored with it and left it aside, never repurchasing. The body lotion I had bulk purchased was very nice and continued to remind me of the scent for a while longer. Imagine the shock and elation it provoked in me when my significant other remembered it when I brought out again a sample of it the other day and casually dabbed my wrists in this succulent fruity number. Memories, like cheap coffee, can come in instant form, after all, it seems! It’s a wonder those catchy innovative ideas like the offerings in the Je me souviens coffret from L’artisan Parfumeur (long discontinued) don’t lure in the buying audiences at a larger scale.


The bottle of the scent designed by Annegret Beier is completely friendly, in jade opaline, curved to fit in the palm of your hand, topped with a little green cap in the spray versions or a silvery boule in splash ones . Beautiful in its functionality.
When Eden first launched there was a big event that set new standards in the risky and costly mega –launches of perfumes: a whole garden recreated full with tropical and aquatic blooms and semi-clad girls in fountains following the cue of the print advertisements. Unfortunately, Eden didn’t sell that well, which incidentally is one of the reasons why it’s featured here today. In order not to lose such a highly covetable name and concept, Parfums Cacharel went on to create one of the first “flankers” of an original perfume, inaugurating a trend that has progressed so rapidly recently it has resulted in a dizzying exercise against Altzheimer's for us perfume lovers: It’s hard to keep up, I can tell you!
The follow up scent (i.e.the flanker) was Eau d’Eden and it is nice enough to warrant a separate review along the way.

Back to the fragrance at hand, Eden, composed by Jean Guichard, opens on tart fruits, namely bergamot, lemon, mandarin, and pineapple alongside melon ( the overuse of Calone was the note du jour of the 90’s after all). A very green smell also makes itself present, mixed with the fruits and the watery notes: it's not a typical fruity, nor is it a typical aquatic nevertheless. In its heart the standard rose-jasmine accord that forms part of most feminine scents is not particularly evident, instead that tree with yellow poms poms, the mimosa, with its sweet sugary, milky smell is the protagonist along with aqueous blossoms like water lily and lotus and a strange anisic component that casts a retro oriental shade on the proceedings. But overall the fruity heart has an element of bubblegum, but the girl popping it is so cute you’d be unfair to chastise her!
The base relies on cedarwood and a hint of patchouli. Sandalwood, vanilla and musk are also featured, although they do not peak as such. That warm, not particularly sweet, rather odly spicy base prompted Luca Turin to liken it to the smell of a wet cashmere sweater, which was later revealed to not be a bad thing. Never thought it were…

The flowers and fruits are happily Serpent-free in their wholesomeness, pre-lapsarian, the garden of Eden safe from the advances of evil for the time being. Even if this is not your thing, Eden does not disappoint: it's a love-it-or-hate-it kind of fragrance, which means it has something going for it. The good sillage and very good longevity are also pluses in my books.

Notes for Cacharel Eden:
Top: Mandarin, orange blossom, water lily, lotus blossom
Middle: Melon, pineapple, violet, mimosa
Base: Patchouli, sandalwood, vanilla, musk.


ads by Psine.net, Hieronymous Bosch Paradise and Hell painting

Byblos by Byblos: fragrance review

A proud in its weirdness creation by nose Ilias Ermenides from 1990, this fragrance is now discontinued. Why bother trace it, you might ask: I like to talk about bygones; I’m really old beyond my biological years it seems, that embellishing, idealistic reminiscence being characteristic of older people, as stated very early indeed in the work of Aristotle’s “Nicomachean Ethics”.


And yet in the world of perfume everyone does it, I’ve noticed. Nary does one read a perfume forum where people don’t say with contempt “today’s perfumes are nothing like they used to be”. That would be a logical conclusion though, wouldn’t it? How is something so elusive by nature, so fleeting, so ephemeral, so closely tied to the zeitgeist as perfume not capable of following the times? And yet, the nostalgia about perfumes we have not even smelled overwhelms us and sometimes we let ourselves believe the golden age of Saturn has bypassed us and the future is all gloom.

Byblos is named after such a Saturnian concept of bygones, the ancient city of Phoenicia which was the centre for the trade of Lebanese cedar wood to Egypt back in 3200BC. Cedar was used in perfumery even back then, although it had other practical uses as well, such as mummification. The Phoenicians were famously the inventors of the alphabet, which was later taken by the Greeks and with the addition of vowels turned into the first real alphabet in the history of the world. Pity Phoenicians only used it for commercial purposes and not literature or science. They were the Marketing majors of the ancient world it seems, not the Bachelor of Art ones.

The fragrance of Byblos by Byblos however distances itself from both the name (which is after all merely the Italian clothing company’s brand name) and the cedarwood smell. On the contrary it gives the impression of peppery/spicy fruits! The opening of peach and cassis (a synthetic berry note) is tangy with the bittersweet grapefruit and mandarin rind smell. It goes on into a dense, rich mimosa and marigold scent that floats above the raspberry, musky base. It’s as if it invites you to bite, only to find the hotness has singed your tongue. But don’t be afraid: this is no Caron Poivre; it’s rather tame for that but still interesting. The cobalt blue bottle shaped like an ancient pyxis, a ceramoplastic type of clay vessel that was used for storing unguents or jewels, is topped with a most original stopper of a golden “plate” with an open flower in light peach pink on top.
To be sampled, at least once.

Notes for Byblos by Byblos:
Top: bergamot, mandarin, black currant, grapefruit, pepper, peach
Heart: mimosa, lily-of-the-valley, lily, honeysuckle, violet and iris.
Base: red fruits, vetiver, musk, raspberry, heliotrope.

Available as Eau de Parfum online on stockists.

Nahema by Guerlain: fragrance review

Nahéma...The sonorous name comes from the 1001 Nights, in a story by Scheherazade recounted on the one and only day of her storytelling. Scheherazade is also the name of a symphonic suite by Rimsky Korsakov, worth exploring; nevertheless the effect of Nahéma more closely resembles the climactic experience of Ravel's Bolero. The Arabian story involved the fate of two abducted princesses: one warm and compassionate, the other called Nahéma, meaning “daughter of fire” of a passionate disposition. No one on the various boards actively bothers to find out the name of the other one, but here at Perfume Shrine we like to question the unquestioned and support the underdog. Mahané was the name of the other princess, then. So now you know, in case you wondered!

Created in 1979 with Catherine Deneuve in mind by Jean Paul Guerlain who had been fascinated by her in the film "Benjamin", Nahéma follows the fiery character of the fictional heroine who was ruled by passion and the imagery of Deneuve in a gold cage surrounded by roses (as depicted in the film) aiming to express the duality of woman. Although La Deneuve has been tied with Chanel #5 to the collective unconscious, largely due to the hyper successful campaign (that aimed to the American market though and not France), she proclaims to be deeply into all things Guerlain naming her signature scent as L’Heure Bleue. However she is a regular perfume collector too and has an extensive collection indeed that can be viewed on my Celebrities and the Perfumes they Wear list. This comes as no surprise and definitely justifies my opinion that Nahéma doesn’t really suit Deneuve’s icy exterior, which forms however a significant part of her appeal. On the other hand there are other devotees of Nahéma who love it with a passion: “I feel completely unlike myself if I don’t wear Nahéma. It’s a strange scent, but I love it, and I confess it’s a luxury I can barely live without.” Thus waxes poetically about it Shirley Manson of Garbage rock-group-fame.

However Nahéma didn’t do very well, sales-wise ,and thus is not so easy to find at Guerlain counters, but of course it is not extremely rare either. Its being a commercial flop might be attributed to the fact that it was ahead of its time, introducing the fruity floral concept 20 years before its heyday. It came out at a time when light streamlined chypres like Charlie had already established the image of the independent woman and the new thing were the spicy, mysterious orientals that followed the success of Opium. Nahéma was neither.

On the contrary, Nahéma is a very feisty affair of honeyed rose backed up with intense fruity and balsamic notes such as passion fruit and benzoin, respectively. The initial start has the intense blast of aldehydes redolent of a classic French perfume, so giving it a little time before judging is strongly advised. The heart also encompasses ylang-ylang, jasmine and lily of the valley, as well as an accent of sweet hyacinth (the most characteristic blossom of Chamade): notes which take the supporting role of subtly underscoring the rose. To my nose however the real mate for the rose is peach and plummy nuances: rich and juicy and sunnier than either the note of peach skin in Mitsouko (undecalactone gamma) or Parure, here rendered by the use of lush damascones, at the time just recently discovered (damascones are natural isolates from the rose, giving rose its very rosiness). The rose-fruits combination as well as the richness of damascenones have been reprised by Sophia Grojsman, notably in Trésor in the early 90’s rendering it an instant best seller. In that case nevertheless it’s much more powdery, sweeter, overwhelming and heavy-handed in my opinion. The moderately powdery, liquor-like rose bouquet in Nahema allegedly comes from no less than five elements: Rose de Mai (Grasse or Centifolia rose)absolute and essential oil, Bulgarian rose (Rosa Damascena) absolute and essential oil and the above mentioned damascenones. However other sources, such as Luca Turin, proclaim "the rose at Nahéma's core [...] a geometric locus bounded by a dozen facets, each due to a different ingredient" making it "too rich even for analytical chemistry to make sense of" (By which I deduce he hasn't had the privilege of running this through a gas chromatograph and mass spectometer).
A little while into the drydown of Nahéma clearly detectable sandalwood, Peru balsam and that prerequisite of orientalia, so beloved by Guerlain, vanilla, make their appearance. Guerlain vanilla is unlike anything else out there – it positively smolders. Deep, rich, completely alien to the concept of teenagers seeking a low-calorie substitute to their Haagen Dazs ice cream, it manages to ignite interest even in people who do not normally appreciate vanillic scents. Suffice to say this is not for those who like lighter or “clean” scents, although I do not detect particularly naughty or indolic notes.
The Nahema parfum in the squat bottle with the quadrilobe stopper (same as Jicky, but with a red label) is rosier and smoother, as usual with Guerlain fragrances, as well as to a lesser degree is the 80s concentration of Parfum de toilette and the more recent Eau de Parfum. Yet the Eau de toilette is not unpleasant either, although the initial opening might seem completely aggressive and thin in comparison. Compared with the retro-chic and light-heartedness of Guerlain's Rose Barbare , Nahema is fiery, voluminous and single-minded to the point of stubborness but generous and expansive.

The advertising makes use of the fiery heroine, always depicting women clad in orientalised robes of red and flames shaped like a wreath surrounding the bottle.In my mind Nahéma can be polarizing, making people react viscerally to it. To my detriment, I am not truly enamored with it, mainly because I am no great lover of roses or peach or passionfruit, so another bottle of it is not in my future, however I can’t fail to appreciate the audacity and pedigree of the composition and keeping a small quantity at my side is a lesson in letting the genie out of the bottle.



Notes for Guerlain Nahema:
Top: Peach, bergamot, hesperides, aldehydes, green notes
Heart: rose, jasmine, lilac, hyacinth, lily of the valley, ylang-ylang, passionfruit
Bottom: Perum balsam, vanilla, vetiver, sandalwood


A small sample of Nahéma parfum will be given to one lucky reader. State your interest!

Pic of
The name of the Rose mock-manuscript via Wikimedia Commons. Bottle pic through Fragrantica. Clip of the 2nd part of Ravel's Bolero to a choreography of Maurice Bejart, originally uploaded by audiodeluxe on Youtube.

Guerlain Parure: fragrance review and history

"She had no gowns, no jewels, nothing. She only loved that, she felt made for that. She had such a desire to please, to be envied, to be seductive and sophisticated..."
~Guy de Maupassant La Parure

Much like Madame Loisel, the wife of a civil servant in Guy de Maupassant's novelette, who wants to live the good life, Parure by Guerlain (1975) stands as a precious commodity to be cherished; an ornament that lifts its wearer beyond the mundane and "l'air pauvre au millieu de femmes riches" (looking poor among rich women).
Parure radiates an outgoing feeling of luxury and refinement. One doesn't wear Parure to communicate their feelings, as they would with Chant d'Arômes or Vol de Nuit; or to entangle someone in a seductive web in the manner of Shalimar; but instead one wears Parure to show one's self and to be adored for everything she represents. It's therefore not an accident that it is the signature scent of Kim Catrall, the glamazonian and sexually uninhibited Samantha in Sex & the City, who upon hearing news of its discontinuation declared she has bought "every available bottle on earth" (clearly not, but it shows how loyal a following Parure produces).
In the tale by Maupassant, Madame Loisel borrows the coveted parure jewels from her rich acquaintance Madame Forestier to wear at a grand ball in which she has a truly memorable time but loses the necklace in the process. Ashamed to admit the truth to her friend, she is forced to buy a replacement and thus enter in heavy debt that will entail years of sacrifice and toil. Years later, as the two women meet on the street by chance, the moment of truth comes as Madame Loisel finally admits the circumstances, yet she hears crestfallen that the necklace was made of paste and not diamonds and therefore all her sacrifices to get herself out of the colossal debt had been unnecessary... Contrary to the above story, Parure glistens with the real shine of precious essences and imaginative artistry.

Parure etymologically comes from the Old French, meaning adornment, from the verb parer: to adorn, to prepare. According to Encyclopedia Britannica, parure thus denotes "a matched set of jewelry consisting of such pieces as earrings, bracelet, brooch, necklace, and ring". In fact the complicated suite might include such diverse items such as a necklace, a comb, a tiara, a diadem, a bandeau, a pair of bracelets, pins, rings, drop earrings or cluster-stud earrings, a brooch and even a belt clasp to be worn over an evening gown. Parures rose in popularity from the 17th century onwards in Europe and were mainly reserved for royalty and the really rich, denoting status, strength and the political power of its wearers. Napoléon loved lavishing these gem suites on Joséphine, for her to wear at state functions, while he gave similar sets to his second wife, Marie-Louise, later on. Court members and the higher social ranks vied for the best jewelers with orders for them to create elaborate and original suites that had the clever and intricate characteristic of modularity so that they could be remade into more fashionable, au courant jewels. Therefore necklaces could be worn intact or disassembled into bracelets, pendants, hair ornaments or brooches by incorporating smart interchangeable components and locking systems.

Ever since Guerlain had created the ultimate fruity chypre in the guise of the mysterious Mitsouko in 1919, they sought to create another memorable chypre for their customers. Jean Paul Guerlain, heartned by the success of Chant d'Arômes (1962) and Chamade (1969), tried to accomplish just that in 1975 with Parure. Although Guerlain themselves classify the scent under "floral chypre", Parure is a porthole into fruity chypres with a polished woodfloor background that according to Luca Turin evoke an oriental mood more than anything.

Guerlain's Parure opens on an effusive and noble interlay of bright and dark elements of golden bergamot and sharp greens that soon cede to the spicy notes in its heart that recall the cinnamon touch (due to styrax) that appears in Mitsouko as well. The ripeness of plummy goodness almost as if steeped in rum (comparable to the damascones in Lutens' Bois et Fruits or Feminité du Bois by Shiseido) evokes spring gatherings in stately houses: The floors polished to a shiny, waxy sheen, the curtains of damask draw;, vases full of narcotic lilacs; bright lights illuminating French windows that give way to a majestic view of the woods across the green lawn. Balsamic notes finish off the dinner as if a baba au rhum laced with delicate vanilla pods extract is being savoured while the gentlemen of the company are smoking cigars in the antecedent chamber.
Although Parure is a very radiant, self-confident composition that is not difficult to wear due to its smooth and lush generosity of nature, I find myself drawn more to the mysterious contemplation and sadness of Mitsouko. Those who find the latter hard to tame, full of sharp impediments however, might have better luck with the former. The eau de toilette of Parure is exceptionally lasting as well, especially in the vintage formula.

Notes for Guerlain Parure
Top: bergamot, clary sage, galbanum
Middle: plum, lilac, rose, jasmine
Base: oakmoss, earthy forest notes, spices, vetiver, styrax, Peru balsam, wood

The original Parure extrait de parfum flacon, made by sculptor Robert Granai, took pride of place among the most luxurious of the Guerlain presentations: A round bottle topped by a 'slightly outrageous stopper' (per Jean Paul Guerlain), a delicate dentelle of crystal the inspiration behind which was a glowing sea-view sunset. The Eau de Cologne concentration circulated in the classic "disk" bottles with the pyramidal stopper. Later on, the Eau de Toilette concentration was bottled in simpler architectural flacons with horizontal ribbing, a classical boule diaphanous stopper and a round red and orange label with the name Parure on the body, encased in a box with geometric designs in matching colours. A reformulation that skewed the scent was implemented when the scent was rebottled in the classic "bee" flacons some years ago, but in comparison to the older eau de toilette it is of inferior quality.
In the end Parure was discontinued by Guerlain altogether some years ago due to low demand and is sometimes found online in auctions or at shops with old stock. Instead Guerlain decided to re-use the glorious, copyrighted name for a range of their makeup items. Let's hope that as long as the keep property of that name, there is some chance that the fragrance might be resurrected.

A sample of vintage Parure will be given to a lucky reader to experience this discontinued fragrance! State your interest.

Ad pic through parfum de pub. Bottle pics through Fragrantica and Ebay. Angelina Jolie photo from the Oliver Stone film Alexander.

Patou Ma Collection: part 6 ~Colony, L'Heure Attendue, Caline reviews

“The exotic image of the deepest jungle, lush vegetation, powerful spices borne over amethyst seas and strange girls in distant sun-kissed ports.” Thus is described Colony in the booklet which accompanies Patou’s Ma Collection.

In 1938, amid the threat of impending war, Jean Patou chose Colony to evoke the tropics and to suggest a carefree, more prosperous time. A fetid and round fruity chypre, Patou’s Colony is comprised of succulent and non-sweet pineapple as well as heady ylang ylang from Nossi-Be starting on an almost herbal, boozy accord pinching your nose, which needs humidity and the warmth of skin to open up. Under the thick netting covering fruits one can feel unfolding earthy tonalities juxtaposed with what seems like leather and musk in a game of chiaroscuro.

The languorous Colony prowls like Lauren Bacall did in "To Have and Have Not", as Marie "Slim" Browning, a resistance sympathizer and a sassy singer in a Martinique club; the perfect “strange girl in distant sun-kissed ports”. Curvaceous clothes cinched at the waist hold her graceful gazelle form as she leans her long neck to give a sideways aloof look at those who catch her attention.
And she knows full well how to entice Steve: “You know you don't have to act with me, Steve. You don't have to say anything, and you don't have to do anything. Not a thing. Oh, maybe just whistle. You know how to whistle, don't you, Steve? You just put your lips together and... blow”.



Colony by Patou possesses that same husky and nostalgic voice which beckons you to whistle invitingly.
Notes for Colony: fruits, pineapple, ylang ylang, iris, carnation, oakmoss, vetiver and spices.

On the other hand, L'heure Attendue is more like the wistful Ilsa played by Ingrid Bergman in "Casablanca". When the Nazi occupation of Paris came indeed at an end, Jean Patou celebrated with “the longed-for hour”, L’heure Attendue; a soft, rather sweet, powdery and woody perfume with creamy taste, embodying elegance, restraint and dutiful sacrifice; it speaks in the melodious tones of a warm-hearted woman.

With shades of Almeras's style in the heart, L'Heure Attendue is sober yet sparkling, all big expressive eyes, smiling yet with a melancholy of realising what all this entailed. The flowers, interweaved into an inseparable posy, are creamy and tender unfolding into a spicy/woodsy drydown which epitomizes classic elegance. One can imagine it worn with the perfect classic tailleur or trench coat, a broad-brimmed hat perched on smooth hair atop softly arched eyebrows. Inside its core a warm, loving heart will forever be pulsating in the beat of happy days spent in Paris.

Notes for L’Heure Attendue: lily of the valley, geranium, lilac; ylang-ylang, jasmine, rose, opopanax; Mysore sandalwood, vanilla, patchouli.

Câline, composed by then in-house perfumer Henri Giboulet, was released by Jean Patou in 1964 as “the first perfume dedicated to teenage girls”. Which means it is unfathomable on anyone who is considered so today! This unblushing aphorism might provoke a flood of inner dialogue in which two sides of consience passionately argue about older and younger mores and how times have irrevocably changed. But the epoch from which Câline hails was by all accounts the era in which young girls aspired to become mature ladies pretty soon, not pigtailed 50-year-olds who carry Hello Kitty bags. There was validation in becoming a grown-up, an antithetical mood to the hysteria of the youth cult which catapulted itself into our consiousness after the 60s. There was nothing apologetic about being older, like there wasn’t either about being younger. Angst and ennui were notions that were just beginning to morph in a world which had healed at long last its WWII scars and envisioned a prosperous future full of the latest technological advancements.

The greenly fresh aldehydic sophistication and malleable primness of Patou’s Câline remind me of Audrey Hepburn in Sabrina, after her European trip in which she becomes a proper “lady”, almost unrecognizable to those who knew her as merely the chauffer’s daughter to the rich family. That je ne sais quoi, which her stay in Paris to amend her broken heart polished her with, is reflected in the refined and discreet trail that Câline leaves behind like a reminder of decorum; or the murmur of enchanting and yet bounded femininity expressed in shadowy iris and insouciant orange blossom, underscored by earthy mossy tones which simultaneously recall shades of Ma Griffe and Ivoire. The piquancy of a basil spicy-like note along with coriander put the finishing touch in its image: It’s poised, ladylike in her kitten-heels and too eager to don the classic pearl necklace with a desire that borders on the ironically saucy.

Not to be confused with Gres Caline from 2005 (nor its flankers, Caline Night and Caline Sweet Appeal)

Notes for Câline: green citrus, spices, jasmin, ylang-ylang, cedarwood, moss, musk.

Clip originally uploaded by zegoar on Youtube. Lauren Bacall and Casablanca pic via Wikipedia. Audrey Hepburn pic via Audrey1. Bottle pics courtesy of Basenotes.

Histoires de Parfums Colette 1873: fragrance review

"If I can't have too many truffles, I'll do without truffles", Colette used to say. Although earthy truffles do not feature in the confines of 1873 Colette by Histoires de Parfums, the fragrance inspired by her personality, her sense of abandon to the sensuous side of life is clearly manifested in its wake.
I can very well remember the days when I was a fledging young miss, still a schoolgirl learning French at L’Institut Français reading the semi-autobiographical Claudine novels which to my young eyes (and those of La Belle Epoque too) seemed naughty and mischievous. How innocent my childish eyes were! Re-reading them as an adult I find them rather tame yet utterly charming and revealing of the character of Colette, the woman.

Inside her family garden of Bourgogne, young Sidonie Gabrielle Colette experienced her first steps as a writer, surrounded by roses and field flowers. Although she is famous for saying that a happy childhood is poor preparation for human contacts, she seems to have flourished on the latter, from her first marriage to "Willy" who got her into writing, penning the Claudine series under his name, to her affairs with women, another with her stepson from her second marriage, her third husband and finally her friendship with her famous neighbour Jean Cocteau in the Jardins du Palais-Royal.
Having chosen her surname as a pen name, she was to become an admired literary woman, famous for both her literary and sensual freedom.

Reflecting this fizzy woman, 1873 Colette is a gourmand yet refined hesperidic fragrance, in which unsettling white flowers blossom in a light bubble, sparkling with tangerine and lemon.
The opening of 1873 Colette unmistakeably reminds me of candied kumquat, which is by turn inextricably tied to my mind with Nymphes (numphs) on the Greek island of Corfu, whose shores lap the waves of the Ioanian sea and the Adriatic. The succulent delicacy possesses a contrast of flavours that surprises the taste buds with its journey from bitter and sweet to the sour of the core and the crystallised crust of white sugar around that cracks under the bite of teeth. The wonderful liquer made of kumquats has a honeyed touch reminiscent of ripe orange blossoms with their fresh yet indolic aroma when they are about to swoon dying on a white sheet before exuding their last breath of scent for the benefit of an amateur enfleurage.
This delicious aroma persists for most of the length of time 1873 Colette stays poised on the skin, later flanked by the delectable orange blossoms and the never too sweet caramelised aspects of lavender with a subtle vanillic touch, imparting a desire to stick your nose to your wrists with a glutton's eagerness in front of his favourite dishes.

The collection Histoires de Parfums created by Gérald Ghislain is governed by no rules other than inspiration. This loquacious individual with roots in the Mediterranean chose to bring his literary heroes to life in perfume, a sensitive and sensual medium: authors, books and materials become stories which unfold on skin, to be read by those sensitive enough to appreciate this flight of fancy.

Notes:
Top: all the citrus fruits from sunshine countries
Heart: orange blossom, lily of the valley, lavender
Base: vanilla, white musks, caramel

1873 Colette by Histoires de parfums comes in Eau de Parfum:
120 ml for 130 € / 4oz for $115.00 (yes, it is cheaper in the US!)
The US site features the older bottle, while the European sites feature the new edition bottle.

You can buy directly from Histoires de parfums, First in Fragrance and MioMia.
Fabulous price on the sampler pack: set of 12 vials for 5€ on the official site.

Pic of Colette by Irvin Penn (1951) via the photographer's archive.

Bali Dream by Estee Lauder: a Travel Exclusive fragrance review

Fragrance brands have cottoned up to the fact that jaded travellers who have to sail through the Symplegades to travel by air are searching for a little escapism: anything really to make them get it through the tiresome waiting for their luggage to get checked, their passports to be scrutinized and their persons getting grind exceedingly small...
To alleviate those symptoms and to make an honest buck in the process, companies have invented the concept of Travel Exclusive: fragrances that are only available when you travel, at the duty-free shops in big airports. The trend had been noticed even two years before, in 2006 and re-affirmed in 2007: travel makes for serious inspiration behind fragrances.
The most notorious travel exclusive is of course the excellent Vetiver pour Elle by Guerlain, mysteriously restricted to French duty-free shops and arguably a very good feminine rendition of their iconic masculine with added floral notes.
But others have not been left behind: this year Lancôme launched Cyclades (named after the Greek complex in the Aegean sea), after Benghal (the name echoing the homonymous region in India) and Tropiques (a more general name evoking the tropics) in their "La Collection Voyage" (Travel Collection). Others include the unfortunately named JetLag by Azzaro (a fresh aromatic) and Lights of Champs Elysées by Guerlain (a gentle woodsy scent). Lauder has also played that game with Emerald Dream in 2007.

This year Lauder launched Bali Dream, an Indonesian-inspired travel retail exclusive for women in March. Bali has also been behind the weirdly named 7:15am in Bali by Kenzo, so there is something there...

"Follow tropical breezes to a flower-filled world. A place where Mood Orchids, Honeysuckle, Indonesian Jasmine and Pago Pago Coconut lead the way to a tropical paradise. Welcome to Bali dream".

According to Lauder, the top notes feature a profusion of Bali’s most prized flowers, moon orchids, along with magnolia and ginger. The heart is comprised of Chinese cassia, Indonesian jasmine, pepper, ylang ylang, gardenia, muguet and apple, on a background of woods and vanilla.
Although the impression that the notes would give would be a soft floral with a tropical tune to it and it is officially presented as a floriental, Bali Dream starts with an unmistakable fruity overture of none other than a mix of cantaloupe with indeterminate peach: apparently cantaloupe is the fruit of choice of late, as it appears in the latest Hermès Un Jardin après la Mousson as well. I admit that the mentioned apple did not register at all in my mind (at least not a real apple instead of the ersatz in shampoos) and leafing through Osmoz I see that it is not mentioned at all, which is rather telling.
Luckily the coconut is not emitting the evil fumes of a plug-in air freshener or the "dangling pine" pong of dilapidated taxis in 3rd world countries. It's pleasant and not loud, with a smooth ambiance about it and a very subtle, freshly spicy accent that might be due to ginger and pepper. The orchid accord with a vanillic backdrop is powdery, soft, velvety and indeed the protagonist of the composition, lasting well, trying to remind me for a brief second of the orgiastic abundance of the Singapore gardens.
The whole however doesn't really live up to the expectations of an exclusive that should have anyone booking a flight just to shop at the duty-free. Visit Bali for its magnificent humid landscape and exotic culture, but don't imagine for a second that this fragrance is its true embodiment.

Carolyn Murphy incarnates the face of the fragrance dressed in lilac-tinged chiffons to reflect the gentility of tones of the bottle.
The bottle of Bali Dream itself with its pretty matelassé recalls last year's Emerald Dream (a floral woody musk), which was -predictably- done in cool green.

Eau De Parfum Spray/Travel Exclusive in 50ml/1.7oz available at all Lauder travel retail counters at $85
There is also a 2 x 50ml duo set. The fragrances in the duo are individually packaged, making them ideal for gift-giving. Lauder has also created a Dream Destinations coffret. This features four miniature (4 x 4ml) edp sprays: two of Emerald Dream and two of Bali Dream. There is also a corresponding makeup palette.
Bottles of Bali Dream have already circulated on Ebay.

Notes (per Osmoz):
Top: ginger, orchid leaves, moon orchid
Heart: pepper, ylang ylang, cassia, jasmine, gardenia, tagete, plum, tuberose
Base: cedar, vanilla, coconut, Haitian vetiver, temple wood.

We will be offering a sample to a lucky reader, so please mention if you're interested in the comments.

Pic of Balinese dancers courtesy of BALIwww.com on Flickr. Bottle pic via Ebay.

Gravity Cannot Be Blamed ~In Love Again by Saint Laurent: fragrance review

"Gravity cannot be blamed for people falling in love" is one of Albert Einstein's wittier quotes. Although falling in love never held any sinister accusations against forces of nature in my mind, in a way I find myself equally irrationaly questioning my own reasons for choosing certain smells sometimes; such as a fruity fragrance I reach for in the summer months. What possesed me into buying one and actually enjoying it in the heat, me a self professed fruit-shunner?

In Love Again launched in 1998 as a Limited Edition, composed by Jean Claude Ellena. Yves Saint Laurent intended it as his last fragrance before retiring to celebrate his 40 years in the fashion business and thus it was a limited edition, accompanied by a seasonal makeup range, which was planned to be sold only in 1998. The bottle seen from above, as in a floor plan, was shaped into an irregular heart. The fragrance indeed disappeared after that, despite a devoted following gravitating towards its fresh, yet mischievous scent. Perhaps in an attempt to follow this successful turn, parfums Yves Saint Laurent issued Baby Doll in 1999 composed by Cecile Matton, initially as a Paris fragrance flanker, yet bearing a passing resemblance to In Love Again scent-wise, with its grapefruit opening and sweetly fruity denouement.

Yet fans were not entirely satisfied: Baby Doll just wasn't the same, being much girlier, sweeter and lacking the quintessential sophistication of the Yves Saint Laurent brand. Of course in many ways In Love Again was arguably also a departure from the dry chypre Y, the hedonism of Opium or the metallic aldehydic frost of Rive Gauche and the corresponding image of Yves as the ne plus ultra of French chic. You could picture those latest scents on bazooka-gum-chewing youngsters, carrying Manga-embossed bags.
Bottles of In Love Again went for as high as $500 on online auctions, till the company decided to bring it back. And so they did: They re-launched in a bottle with a hammered gold cap, instead of the harlequin one, and another box in green and blue in 2004, but the fragrance remained the same.

The initial burst of grapefruit rind, like you have just squeezed some with your bare hands dribbling juice all over, is a shot of energy ~a welcome good-morning kiss to kick off the day! In a way I can see how Jean Claude Ellena performed an anadiplosis in his Rose Ikebana for the Hermèssences, the exclusive line for the Hermès boutique as in-house perfumer in 2004: it was too good to pass up. In Rose Ikebana the idea is further explored with a garland of delicate, pulsating rose and tannin tea notes which combine to give a more ethereal and less sweet version like a satin hair ribbon drenched in morning dew. He deducted even more of the sweet elements of this accord in Un jardin sur le Nil, again for Hermès, in which he worked on a green mango note that ends up smelling like a refreshingly bitter grapefruit fresh from the fridge rested atop a smoky wooden counter top.

Somehow the success of In Love Again is that it manages to bypass the Scylla of hyper sweet, with a tart, zesty grapefruit accord that coaxes the sulfurous nature of the fruit into submission, making it easier to wear than the more difficult Pamplelune by Guerlain which often produces a strong ammoniac, catty effect on certain skins. A touch of green leaves, organic and warmed in the sun also contributes to its modern character, as well as what I perceive as tart berries.
But it also has a soft ambiance about it, without resorting to the Charybdis of ease that is the powder smell of certain white musks, nor stooping to cheap air-freshener style. Although a modern fragrance wih hints of the fruit-bowl, In Love Again has something about it which makes me enjoy it in the warmer months.

The comparison to Baby Doll is understandable up to a degree, due to the homoioteleuton freshness and grapefruit tang present in both. There is an element of optimistic dynamism about both, as well as youthfulness, but Baby Doll lacks the musky-woody element that keeps In Love Again from becoming too juvenile and therefore soon tires me with its overladen message of overt sweetness.

Contrary to many people I find In Love Again has good staying power, especially for a fragrance centered on a citrus note: those being almost synonymous to fleeting. The hesperidic burst of course dissipates after a couple of hours (a feat, even so!), but the drydown is detectable after half the day has passed with an inviting human warmth about it. The downside is of course that due to musk anosmia, some people are bound not to be able to detect the remnants at all. But for that only a skin patch test would bear the deciding verdict.

Notes:
Top: grapes, grapefruit, brimbelle/bilberry
Heart: tulip tree flower, grapefruit, water lily.
Base: blackberry, sandalwood, musk.

The collectible bottle is to be found on Ebay. The current version can be found easily online and in department stores. There are two limited editions, which came out in 2005 and 2006 respectively, with offbeat designs on the bottles and no serious pretensions: In Love Again Fleur de la Passion (with an addition of passion fruit, raspberry and peony; subtle and rather less musky) and In Love Again Jasmin Etoile (with a weak, pale jasmine, which doesn't make it very distinctive, plus tangerine and a touch of spicy star anise).

Pic of original ad (with collectible packaging from 1998) via parfumdepub. Pic of current bottle via MUA.

The Dior Chypres series ~Diorella: fragrance review

Everyone has an aunt that used to bathe in cold water regardless of it being winter or summer, slip on her bathing suit first thing in the morning and go for an invogorating swim on the first sign of warm weather in mid-spring. She wore long masculine white shirts for summer errands and shopping for gigantic prawns for lunch; often without anything else beneath them but her already salty swimsuit and with matching white plimsolls on her slim feet. She left the salt from the sea on her skin all day long till the evening bath to tone it, make it firmer and washed her hair with rain water ~when she could get it. Those tips were divulged to you in passing: laughter and joyous munching on summery peaches, juice dribbling down her jaw while she was solving crosswords at the veranda; long legs sprawled over another chair, her metallic-frame reading glasses on her long nose. And “what is the word that is both a machine and a mystery? Has 6 letters”. You scratched your little head for it, for it was your favourite aunt. She had never married and people wondered if she had any boyfriends. Did she? You never got to know until it was too late. Her cold bathing didn’t help along with her illness, of which she got alerted rather too late. All the joyfull memorabilia of those summers long ago came into your mind with a frenzying velocity to overwhelm you. And what tears you wept… She could have been wearing Diorella all those summers ago. It wasn’t important; she never showed any signs of self-indulgence and perfume might seem like one.

But her scent could be Diorella. It was in 1972 when this chypre came out. Composed from a rather short formula by Edmond Roudnitska, it came as a female counterpart to his extremely successful Eau Sauvage: the masculine cologne that proved to be the most shared scent between the sexes in the 20th century. The heads at Dior soon saw that women who grabbed this magnificent, vivacious specimen from their boyfriends’ bathrooms would want a comparable fragrance to claim their own. And so Diorella was born exactly 6 years later, smelling as fresh as tomorrow. Roudnitska said about Diorella that it was his proudest creation and that it was the perfect compliment to the environment around his house and garden; he interestingly also said that it derived from Roudnitska's previous 1953 Eau Fraîche, not Eau Sauvage. In Diorella he summarised all the good refined things about spartan style he had come to master in his box of tricks. Rather, he had dispensed with the tricks by now and focused on pure, unadulterated essence.

Despite the joyful character of Diorella’s herbal opening (echoing the aromatic top of basil and bergamot of Eau Sauvage) and the zing of snapped leaves from a lemon tree that might remind you of O de Lancome (1969), Diorella is more serious than that. I also smell a touch of galbanum, a strong green note that was mainly explored in Germaine Cellier’s Vent Vert for Balmain (much more evident in the vintage version than the reformulated one by Calice Becker) which gives another layer of verdancy. And there is a touch of mandarin it seems (or is it?) with a synthetic melon accord to further consolidate the idea that was fist explored in Le Parfum de Thèrese; an iconoclastic idea at the time, giving an aqueous feel.

There is again the familiar theme of peach that Roudnitska explored in both Rochas Femme and Diorella, but here it is done in such a ligh manner as to not blunt the axe into fruit confits. Its subtle warmth enrobs a fresh jasmine note (probably the same dihydrojasmonate/ hedione isolated from the absolute that he used in Eau Sauvage). There is a magical translucence to it like sipping cold tangy juice from a crystal glass on a hot day. A very subtle sweetness reminds one of honeysuckle vines climbing on a metal fence, as if smelled from a distance. Later on there is a little powdery mossy ambience that slowly suggests a more autumnal mood, a secret that contrasts with the dazzling hesperides and fruits of the beginning. To every dawn there is twilight and those notes provide the backdrop to it. Maybe that was what prompted Susan Irvine to proclaim of it:

“Mysterious, it’s a Mona Lisa among scents”.

It might be interesting to compare notes with Eau Sauvage and Eau Fraiche de Dior:
Notes for Diorella:
Lemon, basil, bergamot, melon, green note
Peach, honeysuckle, jasmine, rose, cyclamen
Oakmoss, vetiver, patchouli, musk

Notes for Eau Sauvage:
Lemon, basil, bergamot, petitgrain, cumin
Hedione, lavender, patchouli, carnation, coriander, orris, sandalwood
Oakmoss, vetiver, amber

Notes for Eau Fraîche de Dior (vintage):

Bergamot, lemon, mandarin, orange, green notes

Rosewood

Oakmoss, vanilla


And “what is the word that is both a machine and a mystery? Has 6 letters”. You scratched your little head for it, for it was your favourite aunt. She had never married and people wondered if she had any boyfriends. Did she? The word, dear aunt, was enigma. You.


Diorella is available at most department stores carrying Dior perfumes. It only comes in eau de toilette and there are no major differences between different vintages to my knowledge.


Next post will tackle a fun side of Dior!

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