Aquolina Pink Sugar: fragrance review

The infamous cotton candy note (candyfloss, for those in the UK) lies at the heart of Aquolina's Pink Sugar (2003), and the fragrance made the chord mega-popular. It was cheerful and chirpingly cheap. It was bound to set the world ablaze.

via

The story of ethyl maltol goes back several decades actually. As chemist M.Yodov writes, "In 1861, a specific compound was extracted from larch bark (back then it was called laxirinic acid), and in 1894 it was identified by a group of Munich chemists, they named it maltol. Later it was confirmed that maltol plays a significant role in the aroma of fresh bread, coffee, roasted chicory, and some conifers. In its pure form, maltol has a caramel smell with fruity nuances of jam. At the beginning of the 1940s, maltol was produced on an industrial scale, but it was the flavor industry that first took an interest in the compound, since it turned out to be very useful in the reconstruction of a variety of flavors – from soups and ketchup (50-100 parts per million) to all kinds of confectionery (up to 3300 ppm).

Maltol has been produced under different trade marks, like for example Corps Praline. In 1962, Pfizer trademarked the name Veltol. Maltol was then obtained from kojic acid,  [...] In the late 60s, Pfizer introduced a new product, Veltol Plus. Replacing the methyl substituent with ethyl in the maltol molecule (by replacing formaldehyde with acetaldehyde during one of its synthesis steps), they reached a substance that smelled 4-6 times more intense – the same cotton candy, but with a more pronounced fruity strawberry aspect and less burnt".

The fragrant impression in Pink Sugar is an intense and persistent throughout strawberry caramel chord, licorice, and there’s another note they might be going for...toasted marshmallow? Whatever. It's the scent of a yummy confection, perfect for an afternoon at the Ferris wheel with 14-year-olds, to make you feel like a 14 year old yourself. If you're so inclined, that is.

Britney Spears Fantasy the Naughty Remix: fragrance review

Britney had told us quite a while ago, in her lyrics, "I used to think I had the answers to everything, but now I know that life doesn't always go my way. Feels like I'm caught in the middle, that's when I realize I'm not a girl not yet a woman. All I need is time, a moment that is mine while I'm in between."  We chose not to listen, dismissing her line as a vanity project... what a misfortune. And that's probably our snobbism which saw her fragrant offerings with contempt in our quest for the pearl beyond compare, and it was our loss in the end. In this case, Fantasy The Naughty Remix went unsung for far too long. Like the two faces of Janus, it launched as the "dark" variation, while Fantasy The Nice Remix was supposed to be the tamer one.

via

Thankfully one can see in the end, even when temporarily blinded. And what I can now see is a buttery, softly musky, fluffy moment suspended in time amidst shredded white chocolate while gazing in the mirror of my early youth's remembrance. A curvy figure dancing with pink pom-pom kitten-eared slippers in front of the whole body length mirror, holding a brush as a makeshift microphone. Suspended between the teenager vanilla expectations and the powdery halo of becoming a fully fledged young woman out to stride in the world with confidence. Not a girl, not yet a woman.

 A wonderful cheapie gourmand that holds the sugar in check to reveal a coziness that one nostalgizes about plentifully when older. And the fragrance lasts much more satisfactorily than a simple teenager body spray, being a solid eau de parfum seeing me through a full work day. Those how loved Fantasy will find a small undercurrent of the original underneath this variation.

 Currently I see Fantasy The Naughty Remix sold as a gift set of 30ml eau de parfum with complimentary body lotion and rollerball for around 25 Euros or less on Ebay.

Thierry Mugler Angel: fragrance review

It's hard to bypass Angel by Thierry Mugler in the greater scheme of perfumery's historical progress, as it is truly seminal, a footprint on the path of perfumery as large as the Yeti's.
Olivier Cresp, its perfumer, is as much to credit with its innovation, as is its artistic director at Clarins (the Group that holds the licence for parfums Mugler) Vera Strubi, who envisioned the fragrance as a cult modern classic, and Jacques Courtin, president at Clarins, who insisted on developing the product first and only then seeing to its marketing plan; clearly an anomaly in contemporary perfume launching.

For Angel, Olivier Cresp and Vera Strubi sought into the identity of Thierry Mugler as a fashion brand and they came up with a fusion of childlike playfulness and iconic, haute couture boldness. On the one hand, the cotton candy and sawdust of the fun fair. On the other, the patchouli darkness of a handsome man in drag. The note of ethylmaltol which makes the cotton candy note in Angel, and which spawned like crazy, to the effect of saturating contemporary best-sellers with bucketfuls of it, was until 1992 fairly unused. Historically speaking it had been introduced in Vanilia by L'Artisan Parfumeur back when Jean Laporte directed the niche brand he founded in 1978, but its ice-cream cone girlishness was deemed too cute for proper perfumes; this was the time when perfumes roared with the bombastic spiciness of things like YSL Opium perfume and Estee Lauder Cinnabar.

Olivier Cresp took this discarded idea and flanked it with red berries, a dubious whiff of blackcurrant on top (recalling the success of The Body Shop's Dewberry) and the caramel softness of vanilla bringing out a sort of praline in the facets of natural patchouli oil.

The effect was stunning; warm and cuddly but also chocolate-y and dark, and the formula was painted blue, in mocking defiance of every possible evocation of feminine perfume, which until then was always some shade of hay or gold. Angel became le monstre sacré to dethrone Chanel No.5 in France and the rest is, as they say, history.

Monsieur Cresp, your place in the Pantheon is reserved, thank you very much.

Thierry Mugler Innocent: fragrance review

Mugler's Innocent seems in retrospect to be the perfect alternative for people who like gourmand fragrances, love sugared almonds, love fluffy compositions with a tang of sour-sweet fruit on top, but do not appreciate a masculinity factor, in this case the prominent androgynous quality of the intense patchouli of the original Angel. 

Don't get me wrong; I love Angel for all those reasons and have come to appreciate how a teensy-tiny bit of application from afar (or, better yet, using the gorgeous body products) can enhance my neuron pleasure responses. But Innocent is just easier to wear every day, easier to wear during the warmer weather, and, still with a light hand application, easier to feel less conspicuous wearing it.

The scent itself is a succulent mix of Jordan almonds, egg-whites meringues and praline, floating around an intensely sweet & tart note of blackcurrant, like blackcurrant jam but without the stickiness. Instead the feeling is one of copious amounts of musk underpinning the composition into a cloud-like, duvet feel of goose feathers falling softly on nude skin. 

It's a sensual perfume, no doubt because its original skeleton is one that puts lots of flesh over the handsome bones, but it's a benevolent sensual and with the eerie melancholy of a beautiful anime boy with blue eyes and dark hair...

More musings on Fragrantica.

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.

Repetto eau de toilette: fragrance review

Do ballerinas secretly stuff their lithe forms with cherry-pie flavored cupcakes? If models routinely consume tissue paper in order to satiate their hunger, as infamously stated by Australian Vogue ex-editor Kirstie Clemens, I'm willing to believe anything. Powdery woody florals are a direction that is ripe for the picking, judging by recent releases such as Love, Chloe, See by Chloe, Esprit d'Oscar, Burberry Body perfume and the like, but in Repetto the direction is tilting the scales into gourmand  fragrance nuances which seem incongruent with the associations we -involuntarily- make of dancers. Musky roses (with the odd white floral mixed in) with sweet nuances, reminiscent of such girly accessories as lip cosmetics, goose feather down and tutus, date at least as far back as Drole de Rose by L'Artisan Parfumeur (1996). Perhaps what seemed new then looks derivative now, but I wasn't wowed by the newest Repetto fragrance.

Maybe it is that the brand has such an iconic pull that you expect more, more, more. In this case, however, it was a clear case of wanting less, less, less.

via punmiris.com

The cult brand of ballerina shoes the world over is without doubt the French Repetto; not only have they decked everyone from Brigitte Bardot to Vanessa Paradis, they're prized for being as comfortable as wearing nothing on your feet without sacrificing style. Just in the space of last year Repetto has seen an increase of 20%, mainly outside France where the brand is a national standby (the company is also present in 60 countries), which highlights the enthusiastic reception that this classic Gallic brand is enjoying in the domain of luxury and export. Let it be said in passing that Japan is their second biggest market outside France and they're planning on opening a boutique Repetto in Shanghai, China in September 2013.

via meltyfashion.fr

After a spectacular development following the 1999 resurrection of the brand, founded in 1947 by Rose Repetto, costumer to the Opera, Repetto is launching their first feminine fragrance, developed with Interparfums who manage the uber-successful Burberry portfolio alongside many others. The perfumer chosen for the development of the fragrant jus is Olivier Polge, newly officially appointed to Chanel perfumes assisting his father Jacques Polge whose tenure dates since 1978.

"My goal was to create a handmade effect and bring together luxurious and authentic bases, suhc as powdery musky rose, which is the spirit of femininity. The result is a purified formula with essence of rose and vanilla", elaborates Olivier Polge. The fragrance also includes pear, cherry tree flowers and orange blossom notes, underscored by vanilla and amber woods.
The effect is powdery with the characteristic almond "fluffiness" of heliotrope and macaroons (if I were blindfolded and hadn't received info of the launch I would have pegged it as a Ladurée fragrance more than Repetto), soft, sweet with Frambinone, maybe rather heavy if you're sensitive to sweet notes like I am; heavy like an overweight ballerina in the unfair, politically incorrect world of classical dance where teachers are routinely drawing their nails along tender backs to make you stand straight. Could the Repetto-scented ballerina personification survive in that environment? Not if she shed her Dawrinian advantage, she would not...  But the crux of the matter is that Repetto isn't but a ghost of ballet. It is a brand divested of its reality, it's fantasy.

Whereas Michel Almariac chose to instill an inedible element into the scheme of the powdery musky floral in See by Chloe, opting for the bitter sheen of soap, even though the brand could do with sweetness, Polge, armed with his recent experience in La Vie Este Belle, looked into cupcakes. In fact cupcakes are part of the promotion of the fragrance (I kid you not!) In that regard, it sounds like sacrilege but Guerlain presented a better "contemporary taste" perfume with La Petite Robe Noire.

It's not required that wearers of Cabaret by Gres burst out in spontaneous songs by Patachou, but when the incongruence between brand, finished fragrance and market demographic is so diverse you have a fine mess in your hands.

Repetto eau de toilette is presented in eau de toilette concentration (39 euros for a 30ml spray bottle, 79 euros for 80ml), accompanied by a matching body lotion, while the bottle is adorned by a medallion on a pink ribbon like the one in the emblematic Carlota ballerina flat. The fact that the fragrance is inspired by ballet dancing is emphasized by keeping as ambassadress the star dancer Dorothée Gilbert (who claims “Le parfum Repetto a du poids, du charisme”). The signature fragrance hit French counters on Monday July 1st and is set to create buzz in the international market soon after.

La Via del Profumo Milano Caffe & Venezia Giardini Secreti: fragrance reviews & free bottles giveaway

I'm starting with the really spectacular: We have a giveaway on Perfume Shrine, one winner will win TWO free perfume bottles of the newest creations by La Via del Profumo straight from Italy, one of Milano Caffé and one of Venezia Giardini Secreti (the first two fragrances in the new Italian Series). The draw is open to all till Wednesday 19th midnight and all you need to do is comment in the comment section below to be eligible. The winner will be announced on Thursday.

Now that we got this off our chest, let's concentrate on the gorgeous fragrances themselves!

La via del Profumo, an authentically artisanal line of exquisitely crafted fragrances, composed by natural perfumer Abdes Salaam Attar (Dominique Dubrana) in Italy, is proud to present the new "Italian Series," an homage to five great Italian cities (Milan, Venice, Florence, Rome and Naples) and the Italian country as a whole.

MILANO CAFFE

A sybarite fragrance needs the proper mind-frame to work and Italy with its languid climate and smooth contours of land naturally lends itself to it. The pervading and intoxicating scent of freshly ground coffee is one small part of this luxury of letting time slip by. The mingling of chocolate in the composition of Milano Caffé recalls the dusting of cocoa powder on the white "caplet" of a hearty and filling cappuccino, drunk leisurely with a view of the impressive Duomo before taking a stroll down the Via Montenapoleone for some serious window shopping. The Milanese are nothing if not sticklers for detail, from their dog's collar to their impeccable shoes, and I can feel in Milano Caffé the vibrancy of the elegant woody and spicy background which hums underneath the culinary notes of the top. Coffee is naturally a complex smell, comprised of caramelized & smoky/acrid facets on one end, of woody, like freshly sharpened pencils, on the other.

via virtualtourist

The dry quality of the fragrance despite the tonka bean and ambery richness elevates the composition into classic resinous-balsamic level; one mistakes smelling Milano Caffé for a full-bodied vintage that peels layer after layer after layer. In fact, what is most surprising is finding a hint of the cocoa-facet of orris and something which reminds me of the fluff, the flou quality of the resin opoponax, amidst the proceedings. This caress under the dark and bitterish flavor of coffee only serves to consolidate the infiltrating appeal of that highly prized bean, that elixir of life, the coffea arabica, cutting its slightly acidic character. Although the spicy woodiness might make Milano Caffé more conventionally masculine in direction, its richness and cuddly chocolate note makes it a great choice for the woman who doesn't follow trends but rather sets them herself. After all, it is no accident that coffee and coffee shops were seen as the nursery of revolution and of anarchy, and that both Ottoman Turkey in the 17th century and the Ethiopian church banned the exotic bean's secular consumption; it's that stimulating!

VENEZIA GIARDINI SECRETI

Venezia Giardini Secreti is inspired by the small "pockets" within Venice and the tales of the very popular in Italy Corto Maltese cartoon books, specifically "Favola di Venezia" ("Tale of Venice"). Venice is also the abode of Chevalier de Seingalt, more commonly known as the greatest womanizer of them all...

The solace of the shady gardens breeds flights of fancy and the escape of the intrigue of the political world: "When the Venetians are tired of the constituted authorities, they hid in these three secret places, these doors at the bottom of the secret passages opening to beautiful places and other stories ..." Whatever the story is, Venezia Giardini Secreti is redolent of the sweetly intoxicating scent of blooming jasmine and of rose blossoming in the summertime, allied to the mysticism and the marine signature of ambergris, an emblem of the naval tradition of "La Republicca Marinara".

via 

In a way there is a kinship between Tawaf, La Via del Profumo's jasmine fragrance from the Arabian Series, which is redolent of the jasmine sambac variety, rich, heady, like an aching pleasure and a call of beauty, and the latest offering in the Italian Series. And yet in Venezia Giardini Segreti the direction veers into less of a resinous floriental, with the anchoring of the base providing the softest pungency, an animalic hint more than a mysterious, apocryphal rite. For all the secrecy of the passages under the canals—which lead to gardens of a hundred delights and of the erotically charged tales of Casanova—the elegance and grace of Venezia Giardini Segreti is manifested in a touch of soft leather, a hint of motherly milk, a whiff of salty sea ...

Lancome La Vie Est Belle: fragrance review

The upcoming Lancome fragrance, La Vie Est Belle (i.e. Life is Beautiful), is exactly the kind of perfume we dedicated perfumephiles love to kvetch about without any grave reason, come to think of it: It won't knock your Spanx off, sure; it's a "pretty" smell for pretty ladies (as evidenced by the face fronted it, the original Pretty Woman) but it's not a genuinely bad release all the same, just derivative. It suffers from the major problem of mainstream perfumery: a sense of sameness, a sort of deja vu, when what we yearn for is earth-shattering uniqueness, Heathcliff boldness and passion, springboards for heated discussion with a slice of brie in one hand and a good goblet of Laphroaig on the other while Mahler's 3rd blasts out of the speakers.
If you're that sort of person you won't be wowed by La Vie Est Belle. If on the other hand you just seek a wearable, non completely teeny-bopper fruity scent to get you through the day (and night) then the newest Lancome release isn't the worst to come out on counters for a while; nor is it the best, worse luck...

To cut a long story short: La Vie Est Belle an iris "gourmand" with patchouli. Just how many irises, gourmands and patchoulis are there on the market currently? Do I hear you say hundreds? I thought so! And yet, this fragrance is pretty well-executed within the genre, if sweet and over-tenacious. It's really a floriental for the 30-50 age group of women who want something contemporary that wouldn't have their teeth fall off at the same time. Lancôme after all has never ditched their more "mature" outlook (Tresor Midnight Rose non withstanding) and the accompanying image the way Dior has, as I was discussing with one of my online friends. In that context, the fragrance succeeds in its intended demographic, all caveat emptors in place.

This gourmand yet rather delicate composition was developed by famous perfumers Olivier Polge, Dominique Ropion and Anne Flipo, all known for their talent and technical skill. The final formula is claimed to be the result achieved after 3 years of testing and 5000 versions including precious ingredients (Iris Pallida concrete, Jasmine sambac absolute, orange blossom absolute, and patchouli essence; we can take this with a grain of salt or not). When you're hearing things like that, you know you have reason to get worried.
Iris is supposedly the key ingredient of the perfume, surrounded by orange blossoms and jasmine in the heart. The iris isn't really perceptible as such to my nose, though, I have to say: that carrot-rooty often metallic note we associate with iris fragrances is very subtle and floats in the background as a murmur rather than a clear command. The composition’s opening provides fruity flavors of black currant and pear, those can be felt, while the base is warm, gourmand and powdery due to almond-like accords of tonka bean (high in coumarin), praline (shades of Angel, especially coupled with the next two ingredients), patchouli and vanilla.

The recognizable reference in La Vie Est Belle comprise a hint of Delices de Cartier (instead of cherry, the fruity nuance is orange-toned but in a clean, fresh and pleasant way) and Flowerbomb's fruity-patchouli sweetness rising from the core. It's somehow airier, like a gourmand done in devore velvet rather than heavy damask. It also vaguely reminds me of Hanae Mori #4. Of course all these facts point to the theory that if you own any of the above, there's not much point in owing La Vie est Belle as well. That's for you and your Visa to decide.

The lasting power and projection of La Vie Est Belle, available as eau de Parfum, are both very very good, a technically able fragrance, and though I wouldn't be too displeased to be in the company of the woman wearing it, I wouldn't buy a full bottle for myself all the same.

La Vie Est Belle is the newest Lancome fragrance, available on the market from autumn 2012 in major department stores. The concept of this fragrance is centered on real beauty in small things, freedom from conventions and the wisdom to go after one's heart.
The (beautiful) flacon is a redesigned version of a Lancome bottle from 1949 from the brand's archives. Actress Julia Roberts is the face of the campaign, shot by director Tarsem Singh.

NB: I shared a sample with a friend who works in the press and got a preview herself. 

Etat Libre d'Orange Fils de Dieu du Riz et des Agrumes: fragrance review

Despite allusions to Messianic status and references to a Far Asian dish full of endemic ingredients, Fils de Dieu is neither incense-based, nor is it foody in smell. Instead it shoots clarity, modernity and prized complexity into an age-old structure, the classic oriental perfume, making it shed its abundant sunshine like a golden ray shimmering onto yellow butterflies flying over the spring blooms in the balcony. Forget the controversy factor and scare-the-horses impact of the niche brand's infamous Sécrétions Magnifiques. This one is instantly (and easily) likeable stuff you will get serious milleage off; which I'd think defeats the brand's "perfume is dead, long live perfume" manifesto, but there you have it: they need to make wearable stuff too I suppose. Fils de Dieu is among their most approachable. 

Biko rice cupcakes from the Philippines

Etat Libre d'Orange describes its latest fragrance Fils de Dieu du Riz et des Agrumes (its full name meaning “Son of God of rice and citrus”) as "the one who brings on the light, the sunshine", drawing from the Philippines lore (its alternative name was Philippine Houseboy). Perfumer Ralf Schwieger (of Lipstick Rose fame), set to task by the brand's head Etienne De Swardt, took the basic structure of a classical oriental built on tart citrus and creamy ambery and vanillic notes (see Shalimar or even better the more legible Shalimar Light) and renovated it into a modern creation that registers as totally urban, totally effarvescent, totally wearable. But that's not to mean it wears thin or minimalist: the projection of the mouilletes on my library is reaching me, diffusing with gusto, in the bedroom and the sillage trailing off my chiffon blouse is enough to entice the neighbour meeting me round the corner to ask what I am wearing. "It's Fils de Dieu", I reply rather self-consious. "Oooh, sounds like one of those delectable things only you carry around here!" she replies with a resigned sigh. I oblige and write the name down along with intrstructions on where to get some.

That is the effect the new Etat Libre d'Orange fragrance has: uplifting, inviting, alluring, radiant. Despite the lack of heft its vanilla background has (forget thick, "burnt" too foody vanillas, this is nuanced and sophisticated), the tenacity of musk, the crushed flower petals and the profusion of leathery castoreum (reminiscent of a FarEast massage parlour) accounts for a composition that will get you noticed throughout the day. If the equally inviting Etat Libre d'Orange Archives 69 and their universally liked Like This is any indication, the French brand is following a certain kind of compositions quite purposefully lately. 

But the interesting thing about Fils de Dieu is the masterful playing of contrast and the injection of herbal into the classic oriental motif: the ginger (in itself having a citrusy facet) pairs with other hesperidic notes, notably sharp lime, starting with bracing, mouthwatering freshness (not unlike the bergamot-rich head note of Cologne Bigarade in the F.Malle line). There's the subtle and brief fennel-like note of shiso and then the perfume swims confidently into plush comfort through the milky-rice note of coconut-milk steamed rice. The zen-like effect of savoury rice cooking on the stove was perhaps most famously explored by niche brand Ormonde Jayne in Champaca: there's something home-bound and soothing about that smell and Linda Pilkington had revealed to me in an interview that she had envisioned it inspired by her Chinese neighbours cooking rice at their appartment every evening. Etat Libre had injected a rice note as a hint in their previous Putain de Palaces. But in Fils de Dieu the progression melds effortlessly into an intimate, gourmand aftertaste with lots of coriander (orange-saffron like, almost), a metallic nuance and suede, sultry leathery notes which retain the fragrance deliciously on both skin and cloth.

Etat Libre d'Orange Fils de Dieu, du Riz et des Agrumes is available from Henri Bendels, MiN New York and online from Luckyscent and Les Senteurs.


Notes for Etat Libre d'Orange Fils de Dieu:
Ginger, coriander leaves, lime, shiso, bergamot, Jungle Essence coconut, rice note, Jungle Essence cardamom, jasmine, cinnamon, French May rose, tonka bean, vetiver, musk, amber, leather, castoreum.

photo via cupcakeproject.com

Oscar de la Renta Oscar Violet: fragrance review & draw

Violet is a limited edition "flanker"* of the signature Oscar fragrance, one of the group of limited summer editions by fashion designer Oscar de la Renta which launched through 2005 (Violet is from that season) and 2006: Soft Blossom, Soft Amber, Sweet Flower, Tropical Flower, Fresh Vanilla, Red Orchid, Pink Lily, Sheer Freesia, Citrus, Bamboo. [Wow they did a lot of them!] From this assorted progeny I always thought Violet was the best  and though by no means a masterpiece or a must-smell, it's an easy to wear desert-like, yet judiciously restrained, vanillic fragrance. By all accounts a no-brainer, no need to steel-yourself-for-it scent, for days when you can't be bothered by complicated things and just want some cosiness and comfort.

The subtle overture is fresh and a bit "sweet peppery" thanks to the cinnamon touch sprinkled on a short-lived, citrusy accord. This very soon opens into the main plot: a dark chocolate accord, powdery cocoa shifted for angel's cake and 70% cocoa solids chunks for glazing it. This is quite a sweet perfume, which is a precarious balance to do right, but without the sickly candy notes of many a modern fragrance fare. More a cocoa-vanilla blend than one resting on violets, it's ironic it got named the way it was. (Even if consciously searching for violets when smelling it, you're getting the Violettes de Toulouse confectionary kind, not the Parma violet, even less so the metallic violet leaf note). The base is quite persistent, with inclusions of musk and sandalwood (creamy, goose-down soft), but the generic vanilla blend tends to overshadow these subtler, more discreet notes. This is the main drawback of the Oscar Violet fragrance and why it doesn't get out of the cabinet more. The drydown is lackluster compared to what a delicious, sophisticated gourmand like Angel Innocent, or  Prada Candy can offer; and as to searching for a sweet violet or gourmand sandalwood combo I'll go with Bois de Violette, Santal Massoia and Praline de Santal. Still Oscar Violet is so cheap online it's worth grabbing for your curiosities cabinet or your little sister who likes "sweet stuff" and shouldn't be let to plunge too deeply into the vulgar end lest she never resurfaces again. 

If a few well-judged comparisons illustrate a point like a thousand pages, Oscar Violet is reminiscent of Hypnotic Poison Eau Sensuelle by Christian Dior and Deep Red by Hugo Boss (but sweeter, creamier than the latter) with similar notes of pear, mandarin orange, sandalwood, vanilla and musk.
Discontinued, but still found discounted on etailers and Ebay.

For our readers, a bottle of this discontinued fragrance up for draw, for those commenting. Draw is open internationally till Sunday midnight.

*flanker is industry speak for a new, different fragrance coat-tailing on the success of an established one by the same brand, exhibiting some twist on the name & packaging to differentiate it from the original.

Related reading on Perfume Shrine: Floral Gourmand Fragrances 

Rochas Man: fragrance review

Few are the males ~and the masculine fragrances to accompany them~ that indulge into tipping their long toes (with a few stray hairs on them) into the gourmand pool where vanilla reigns supreme like a giant mother's breast offering precious comfort. Breast and beast don't mix. Or do they? Rochas Man (1999), no less because of its super suggestive bottle designed by Franzrudolf Lehnert and Michael Fõrster, which looks halfway between a rocket, a frosted glass tit-statue and a futuristic sex toy, proves otherwise.

The secret, woven by master perfumer Maurice Roucel, lies into constrasting the warmer, sweeter elements of vanilla with aromatic lavender (its medicinal and caramelic ends both exploited) and a dark-roast coffee note which he seems to have transported into his Bond No.9 New Haarlem composition. Thus he creates a hybrid: the gourmand fougère! I'm of course being creative; the fougère is a pliable enough fragrance family to include both warmer and cooler interpretations and its core of coumarin is sweet by itself.

Roucel is nothing if not one for opulence, but he manages to make even potentially cloying compositions (Hermes 24 Faubourg, Guerlain L'Instant pour Femme) shimmer and radiate rather than choke and oppress. Rochas Man, aimed at men but worn with intense pleasure by discerning women (especially those who like things like Dior Dune and L de Lolita Lempicka), takes the restrained qualities Roucel displayed in Kenzo Air and weaves in a hint of the animalic sensuality of his infamous Musc Ravageur. The touch of tang (which smells like Frambinone to me) further restrains the sweetness, while the distinct patchouli facets create intrigue in the final stages of the fragrance on the skin, giving an edge to the sweet notes. But if I were to compare it to something smelling similar, I'd peg the New Haarlem as a closer match (and a fifth of the price!) with a slice off Serge Lutens' lavender musky, sweet fougère in Fourreau Noir. Plus, in its toys for boys bottle, I hereby solemnly dub it "the Rocket Man Fragrance".



This Rochas is quite unlike the gentrified citrusy & peaty Rochas Moustache, engaging into more overt, urban foreplay. Its main advantage however is staying as close to the skin as is necessary for you to order another round of shots at the bar, prolonging the flirting enough to ensure that the female target is fully enraptured by your scented aura. She'll be smitten!

Available in department stores as eau de toilette, last I checked, and on many etailers for ridiculous prices.

still from the film Dr.Strangelove or How I Stopped Worrying and Learned to Love the Bomb by Stanley Kubrick via kubrickfilms.tripod.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.

Prada Candy: fragrance review

It's been called "Werther's Original in a bottle". It's been called "Infusion de benjoin". It's been called "a vat of Polish fudge made of condensed milk" or "cajeta". To my mind, it's neither, though I can see where the assessments are coming from. Prada Candy is simply the most unexpected launch of this autumn coming from the most blasé designer brand. I defy anyone to smell it and come up with a definitive verdict in less than a week's testing. It just keeps you guessing, is this for real? 

There's something inherently sophisticated about the Prada fragrance line (the apotheosis being L'Eau Ambrée; in contrast some of the Infusions are limp-wristed to me) and though at first glance ~or rather, sniff~ that's not apparent in Candy, in the end you realize that it could have been Pink Sugar, but it's not. It resembles the best-selling Aquolina scent in some respects; the strawberry-flavoured caramel being melted in a hot plastic cup, at some intergalaxial fun fair where waitresses are clad in A-line skirts embossed with lip prints in pastel hues. That doesn't mean that Candy is not a departure for the brand; something by  that name in a pop canister resembling a pink-edged coffee press is meant to be sweet and teeny-bopper and not coming out of the mind of Miuccia with her Communism background, right? Is catering to lower instincts like hunger and lust an opium for the people?

But there's thankfully a certain comfort factor about the new Prada fragrance instead of just dessert sweet, thanks to the deft of hand of perfumer Daniela Andrier; it's a complex gourmand oriental with a balsamic, drizzling, sexy background that holds it from becoming a total "teenagers-don't-know-any-better" mess. I'm not entirely convinced it's the best fit the brand could come up with (and it's not "me", which might be influencing me), but it's got a certain pull-in factor despite the identity crisis (Watching the commercial with Léa Seydoux I don't know if I'm supposed to laugh or hide my eyes out of shame on the protagonists' behalf). In short, Prada Candy is that confusing phenomenon: a fragrance that doesn't fit with Prada's image (much like L'Artisan's original Vanilia with its "simplistic" ice-cream cone scent was incongruous with the hippy, boho style of the rest of the brand), but somehow manages to appeal all the same.Of course one could argue that Prada might slap their label over a bottle of water and it would still sell like hot bread. True.

The composition features elegant musks up top with the intense flavour of milky, creamy caramel mixed in, some of the caramelic accents reminding me of the upper edges of lavender's spectrum. That caramelic note takes almost licorice & tonka facets, complex, abstract, like a passing kinship with the original Lolita Lempicka perfume. There is benzoin resin in the lower range of notes (much like in their best-selling Infusion d'Iris scent), purported to be as much as 12% of the formula -which I find hard to totally believe as benzoin is a known sensitizer- that creates a moiré effect between cozy and powdery. Benzoin naturally possesses facets like copal, a smell between medicinal and sweet, with earthier components (Smell Guerlain Bois d'Arménie which is full of it) . This characterises the drydown (i.e.the final phase of persistence) of Prada Candy on the skin after the first half hour following spritzing. The musky "dirty diapers" note, like baby urine, creates a background of soft suede and darkness reminiscent of a lot of vintage fragrances (it's the sexy note in Shalimar). A sneaky wink. And this is exactly why Candy is not dumping the brand or just aiming at a younger demographic, as one would be quick to cauterize at first "reading" of this launch.
The sillage is nice and cozy and the lasting power very satisfactory, after a while it becomes a skin scent.
I don't think I will be buying a full bottle, but I will tuck in  many samples in my bag for when I want to (contendedly) get down and silly. Nothing wrong with that!

Prada Candy is available at Eau de Parfum concentration at major department stores, starting from £40 for 30ml/1oz. and online (check the selection of discount fragrances for even better deals)
ETA: A new flanker, Candy L'Eau, a lighter interpretation, is introduced in spring 2013. 





Photo of dulce de leche via pinterest.com

Parfumerie Generale Praline de Santal: fragrance review

Home-toasted cashews and hazelnuts, enrobed with a mixture of dulche de leche that contained salt and tahini paste, is part of the treats that my Kappadokian grandmother used to prepare on cool autumn evenings for us kids to consume while doing our homework and it is this memory which was jogged upon first smelling Parfumerie Générale's Praliné de Santal.

Parfumerie Générale Praliné de Santal follows a parallel life with Jeux de Peau by Serge Lutens in its caramelised overtone due to pyrazines, aroma materials with sugared maple and phenolic nuances, and its étude on sandalwood. Whereas Lutens went with his childhood memories of toasted bread and the yeast of kneading, Pierre Guillaume went with toasted nuts with a coating of caramel & salt.
Both focus on the "creaminess" (i.e.the sweet, milk-ish quality) of natural sandalwood, though one puts it in a buttered context, the other in a nuts context.
It all depends on the kind of tooth you harbor!

On this occasion, the effect rendered is extremely nutty at first (if Bois Farine by L'Artisan Parfumeur instantly reminds you of peanuts you know full well what I mean); but it mellows into a richly satisfying woody accord on drydown. I'm not sure whether I would be more impressed with the originality of the scent, had I not came into contact with the idea in the Lutens fragrance first. It certainly has an elective affinity.
Roasted hazelnuts & peanuts greet us on the opening of Praliné de Santal (lasting for a good 10 minutes on my skin), a combination of savoury and sweet, before the scent falls into an unctuous billowy note of powdery, rich woods and the soothing, smooth silkiness of Cashmeran (an aromachemical which gives an intimate, close to the skin scent, between worn clothes and suede). In the interim there are soft, powdery hints emerging (referenced as heliotrope in the press material, but really more like powdered white chocolate and fluffy, airy vanilla), without diverging from the main gourmand-woody-oriental character of the perfume. In this regard it recalls Etat Libre d'Orange Archives 69, with its easily approachable ambience of spicy woods and distantly (but in the same mood) the satisfying tobacco-softness of Guerlain's Tonka Imperiale.

Pierre Guillaume, perfumer and founder of the niche brand of fragrances, is consistent in his exploration of soft, gourmand orientals; his are refined desserts that withhold some of the sugar expected from the genre, exploring the more resinous or woodier aspects for backing up the respective central theme. Praliné de Santal lacks a certain dynamic after the initial fall into the creamy woods, belying its sharp development of the first few minutes. It's actually sandalwood and Cashmeran which are the remaining notes on the skin after Praliné de Santal has completely "dried down" at the 2-hour wear application mark; a skin scent of delicious aftertaste; sensuous, delectable, maybe having you hankering for going beyond.

Notes for Parfumerie Générale Praliné de Santal:

Sandalwood, Heliotrope, Hazelnut, Virginian Cedar, & Casmeran

Parfumerie Générale Praliné de Santal is a limited availability scent within the line, available in 50ml/1.7oz for 88euros and 100ml/3.3oz for 120 euros on the PG site.

Butternut Squash, Sage, and Goat Cheese Ravioli with Hazlenut-Brown Butter Sauce via gourmetproject.ca

Parfumerie Generale Musc Maori 04: fragrance review

Pierre Guillame, the young and charismatic perfumer behind the Parfumerie Generale line, composed an unusual gourmand musk with subtle animalic vibrations beneath, like a male lion heard from a distance, which gives pause to think: Is it foody? Is it in dried fruits & wood Lutensian territory? Is it powdery musky? What is it exactly? There's nothing more exciting than a perfume that throws all caution to the wind and perplexes.

The opening of Musc Maori is as promised a strong, sweet cocoa note (juiced over by bergamot & orange) and with the smell of planked woods on which a subversive non homemaking type is preparing chocolate-chip cookies with a dash of Tia Maria coffee liqueur. Yet the aroma of chocolate slowly dissipates and we're experiencing the rise of a powdery, warm, almost clean musk with vanilla in the background, as if the person in question is slowly heating up in that enclosed space of the kitchen, "cooking" alongside the cookies, revealing the fleur de peau note that musks are famous for. After all, musk (like patchouli) does have a natural aspect of cocoa, so it makes sense to pair the two. A hint of floral (jasmine?) wrapped up in cellophane is peeking through, there is a rubber, dusty wood-glue note which is discombobulating. (Might I venture there is some Okoumal aroma-synthetic by Givaudan in there?)

Of course Tonka beans already have a chocolate facet, so coupled with a lactone and vanilla they would give this feel of chocolate being heated up. If it were naughtier, it would evoke bedroom play involving dribbled chocolate syrup, but it doesn't cross the line, even though it tethers there for a few seconds in promise. The overall impression is one of a linear, uncomplicated scent, which doesn't transform through distinct stages, but rather performs a diminuendo of its original motif.

You have to at least like gourmands to appreciate this one, although it isn't your typical Angel clone where the caramel and Caspirene glob you on the head, nor is it as dry and espresso-laced as the refined patchouli in Borneo 1834. The buttery, lactonic feel is reminiscent of Matin Calin by Comptoir Sud Pacifique, so those who like the latter and want a chocolate-milk version or one which reminds them of Palmer's Cocoa Butter Lotion should try it. The Non Blonde compares it to Lea Extreme without the almond-coconut tonality and I will take her word for it. I guess this makes it more feminine than unisex, although adventurous males with a sweet tooth might want to try it out. Musc Maori by Parfumerie Generale is something to be sampled for sure anyway: I can't think of a weirder, more kinky musk out there!

And since we're talking chocolate, how do you like yours? Dark, milky, in-between? With filling or not? Particular brands? I'm hungry!

Notes for Parfumerie Generale Musc Maori:

Bergamot, cocoa bean, Cumaru wood, coffee tree blossom, amber, Tonka bean, white musk.

Musc Maori 04 circulates as an Eau de Parfum which lasts for ages, in both 30ml/1oz, 50ml/1.7oz and 100ml/3.4oz sizes, available at Luckyscent, First in Fragrance and The Perfume Shoppe.

Photo of melted chocolate via lovecstasy. com

Hilde Soliani Ciocospezissimo & Ciocorosissimo: fragrance reviews

It was with delight that I had introduced perfume audiences outside Italy to the cosmos of Hilde Soliani niche Italian scents and it is with immense joy that I can continue to feed your appetite for her pleasing wares: Her two latest fragrances, Ciocospezissimo and Ciocorosissimo, which we have the exclusive preview of here on Perfume Shrine, are part of her Profumo e Gusto in Libertà lineup [click for more reviews]. They're totally scrumptious and every lover of good gourmands should try to get hold of samples.

The names are Italian superlatives of their respective chords: chocolate and spice for Ciocospezissimo, chocolate and rose for Ciocorosissimo and have been inspired by Hilde's love for Italian gelato (which comes in the most sophisticated flavours imaginable, such as Boccalone Prosciutto or Carrot Cake).

Ciocospezissimo starts with a whirlwind of a delicious gingery zing which twirls around the note of dry cocoa. The two are perceptible at all times, in reality however the peppery bright buzz is really basil, that green curly-looking little bushy herb that we usually use in our pasta with pesto al Genovese. Or with our lime sorbet. In perfumery basil is often wrapped around grapefuit, complimenting and contrasting the sulfur elements of the citrus peel aroma. Well, guess what, like another green hot-cool herb, mint(I bet it would really go well after a decadent bath in Mint Chocolate bath), basil has the green pepperiness that goes really well with chocolate. Generally chocolate performs well with peppery-biting stuff, for instance try milk chocolate with black peppercorns, it's utterly magnificent! In that vein people with a desire to find a little zing, a little edge in their chocolate will find Ciocospezissimo easy to like and easy to wear.

Ciocorosissimo took me by total surprise. I usually don't like obvious roses in fragrances because they can evoke too closely for comfort those aged, wilted pot-pouris that hide into really old aunts' closets or the cleansers that are put besides the Porcelain Goddess...Not exactly my idea of sexy! And we've mentioned this here before. But in Ciocorosissimo, Hilde Soliani had clear instructions which paid off: The rose is delicious, rich, melodious; three varieties from Bulgaria, Morocco and England conspire along with pure absolute of cocoa and toasted chocolate to produce a mouth-watering yet also fresh scent! If I had to put a classification on it I'd opt for woody floral, never mind the gourmand associations of chocolate.
The process of creation is rather fascinating: The finished perfume is kept in an oak barrel, just like a good wine, so it gains in complexity, mingling with that lovely woody aroma and it comes out unfiltered and ready to seduce you. like it did to me. The ritual of picking fresh rose petals from the garden, dusting them with cocoa from Indonesia and then using them in desserts is finding its apotheosis in this trully lovely fragrance. The notes pop in and out, always discernible, yet at the same time in synergy, like those changeant fabrics which take on a different hue where the light hits them. If you like those patchouli-shaded roses like Voleur de Roses or Lady Vengeance, don't miss a chance to try Ciocorosissimo as well.

Both Ciocospezissimo and Ciocorosissimo come in Eau de Parfum concentration with 10% essence and they last quite well. Available through Lyckyscent soon they were launched on the 26th of November at the Suendhaft Press Conference event.

Related reading on Perfume Shrine: Hilde Soliani reviews (click the links below):
1) Il Mio Daisy/Ti Amo Line (Tulipano, Iris, Margerita, Anemone, Ortensia),
2) Teatro Olfactiva line (Bell'Antonio, Vecchi Rosetti, Stecca, Mangiamo dopo Teatro, Sipario),
3)Acquiilsssssima, Doolciiisssimo, Freschiiissimo, Saaaliiisssiimo.

Pic via sexylingerie10/photobucket.
In the interests of ful disclosure I gained access to two samples via the manufacturer<./span>.

L'Artisan Parfumeur Havana Vanille/Vanille Absolument: fragrance review

Appraising my impressions on the upcoming L'Artisan Havana Vanille (later changed to Vanille Absolument) I can't help but think that it is more like a sagacious study in black & white rather than a journey to exotic locales respendent with colourful fabrics or outlandish fruit. Its boozy tonalities on the other hand recall to mind the Payard Vanilla Rum Truffles as if they had been painted by Monet, an aspect which will place this release under the aegis of gourmando-philiacs the world over.

Havana Vanille/Vanille Absolument, the latest instalment in L'Artisan's Travel scents after Bois Farine (by Jean Claude Ellena), Timbuktu, Dzongha and Fleur de Liane (all by Duchaufour), was supposed to take us to Cuba. The allusion to the Caribbean island brings to mind tobacco of course and those beautiful chickas rolling the leaves on their sweaty thighs (I have shades of Marisa Tomey in The Perez Family in mind). The practice is not without merit, as the humidity from their tan skin makes for cigars that preserve their precious bouquet well into the aftertaste and do not become dried-out when properly stored in a humidor. Composed by in-house L'Artisan perfumer Bertrand Duchaufour, Vanille Absolument (Havana Vanille) showcases his typical monastic style of diaphanous, orientalised compositions recalling a mystical haze or vapours rising, like his beloved incense which he has explored in every nook and crany thought possible for both his L'Artisan and Eau d'Italie offerings.

Comparison with another Tobaco Vanilla, the one in Tom Ford's Private Line, reveals the L'Artisan endeavour as much lighter and less sweet (the Tom Ford one is much heavier on the tobacco overall, but highlighting the sweeter and whiskey aspects of its leaves, to the point where it is achingly sweet for me; in contrast the L'Artisan has the impression of nuanced tobacco with a passing pomander overtone). It might also nod slyly at the direction of that minx of a scent, Fifi (by lingerie maven Fifi Chachnil), who is climbing into her hot pink lacy undergarments and bringing the silk scarfs at bed for a frisky light bondage romp. Yet somehow Vanille Absolument (Havana Vanille) isn't as naughtily bawdy and seems more introverted, the bookish type who wears Alain Mikli glasses and looks you up quizzically over them when you make a compliment. This would not intimidate men who could opt for this one easily. Of course the pairing of tobacco with vanilla is a natural, as both materials have interlapping facets, much like a Reisling wine would pair with Ibores cheese perfectly and Tolu balsam is also complimenting the mix. Havana the city has been a reference for years due to its exotic locale and contraband allusions (fragrant examples by Aramis and Tuscany, both Lauder brands, which would make you think of a linen-suited Robert Redford gambling away in Havana, the film, while rescuing beautiful political objectors in the shape of Lena Olin).

The boozier aspects of Vanille Absolument/Havana Vanille (discernible rum, the "aged rum and sweet air of Cuba") recall to mind the decadent and rather debauched Spiritueuse Double Vanille by Guerlain (also referenced by NST), a fragrance that has lured many with its dense cloud of smokey vanilla-pod aspects highlighting the darker elements of the husks. This thick, succulent trend has been played for a while now and doesn't seem like fading yet. Indult went for broke with their intensely darkish-vanilla-rich Tihota (great-smelling stuff, yet for those prices you're set with some Vanille Noire du Mexique which resembles it); in Vanille Absolument (Havana Vanille) you get the feeling that the perfumer was trying to preserve a Cold War policy of equal distance from all those references: a little bit of everything but not exactly of the same mind.
What caught my attention about the new L'Artisan creation mainly is the underlying notes of dried fruits with their Lutensian tonality (treated the Coke Zero way, mind you!) and the caramelised maple-like immortelle note that peaks through ~the way it did subtly in the forgotten opus of Annick Goutal Eau de Monsieur by Isabelle Doyen or the more modern vanilla-laced Cuir Béluga by Olivier Polge. The (synthetic) moss doesn't blurr the overall composition into too dangerous territories to my nose and the terrain remains terra ferma with only a leathery hint that doesn't derive from bitter quinolines, but instead the narcissus absolute.
The longevity of Vanille Absolument (Havana Vanille) is average and the sillage is discreet, melding into a skin scent on me within the hour. Like The Non Blonde says it's "understated,without being low brow".

Vanilla seems all the rage again with everyone in the niche sector issuing one, falling into different stratagems: starting with the uber-luxurious, air-spun ~and floral really~ Vanille Galante by Hermès and the correspondingly diaphanous, citrusy Vanilla & Anise by Jo Malone which we reviewed the other day, on to the upcoming Patricia de Nicolai Vanille Intense and the upcoming Creed Vanille. Rumour has it that the groundbreaking (at its time) Vanilia by L'Artisan, which caused ripples with its brightly and kitchily artificial ethylmaltol note of cotton-candy (popularised much later by Angel and its clones in patchouli-laced compositions), will be replaced by the newest Vanille Absolument (Havana Vanille) in the L'Artisan portfolio. The reason could be the upcoming IFRA restrictions, although those wouldn't affect ethylmaltol I believe. It could also be latent style concerns, since the older one issued 31 years ago reflects a direction no longer en vogue. If this is news that has your wallet vibrating with worrisome anxiousness, better stock up before it is too late. On the other hand, if that fluorescent vanilla ice-cone of a scent isn't your cup of tea (and I admit although I admire it intellectually I can very rarely wear it), then you will be probably overjoyous with the newest Vanille Absolument (Havana Vanille).
I predict it will be much better received commercially than many of the latest L'Artisan scents exactly because of its "easy" reading that doesn't require coinnoisseurship. If you're searching for a more economical "twin" to Spiritueuse Double Vanille without the $220 tag attached, then you're all set. Personally, having cornered the vanilla issue in a precious few, select choices and prefering the oddly cuddly cardboard-and-soft animals'-underside of L'Artisan's Dzing! I am not so sure whether I'd rush to buy a full bottle of Vanille Absolument (Havana Vanille); probably not. But I am almost certain many will.

Notes for L'Artisan Vanille Absolument/Havana Vanille:
Top : Rum, mandarin, orange, clove
Heart : Dried fruits, narcissus absolute, rose, tobacco leaf, helichrysum/immortelle (everlasting flower)
Base : Madagascar and Mexican vanilla absolutes, tonka bean, benjoin, tolu balsam, vetiver, moss, musks, leather

Vanille Absolument (formerly Havana Vanille) comes in 50ml/1.7oz and 100ml/3.4oz bottles of Eau de Parfum. The scent is officially launching in October and testers are already appearing here and there.
L'Artisan is planning to surprise us delightfully with another launch later this year!

Related reading on Perfumeshrine: L'Artisan reviews and news,Vanillaand Gourmand fragrances

Photo by Walker Evans Parquet Central III via thephil.org