Twin Peaks: Hermessence and Marc Jacobs

Hermessence Poivre Samarcande isn't discontinued like some of the other scents featured in the Twin Peaks articles; it enjoys pride of place in the Hermes canon and good commercial success in Southern European countries, from what I'm told. But the price asked is rather steep.

via

In the search for something similar I came upon Bang by Marc Jacobs, surely a less deep search into the pit of one's pockets, but just as good a fresh peppery goodness. Tip for the frugal: stockpile another bottle while the running is good.

Chanel Boy, Hermes Muguet Porcelaine, Guerlain Le Muguet 2016 : 3 Upcoming Fragrances to Watch

In the ever increasing pace of fragrance launches some catch one's eye due to either exclusivity cachet or brand awareness. This is the case with the three fragrances I highlight today. One is so exclusive and posh that it can't possibly justify the jumping through hoops to get it, yet a vision of the bottle (and a sample from a lucky buyer) is de riguer. The other two are less hard to get, though still preserving themselves for marriage, but coming from such collections as to warrant some getting all hot and bothered with. Without further ado I present them to you.

First we have Guerlain's super-limited annual Le Muguet 2016 edition: this year it promises to be a new formula, not just a different bottle and concentration game. The company itself, after all, is historic., so extra care is given to accuracy. More info on Fragrantica.

Then there's Chanel's Boy (probably going out to play with Dior's Girl, engaging in puberty love. All right, Chanel is probably the ONLY firm who can graft such a gauche name to their Les Exclusifs boutique line; Boy Capel, after whom the new fragrance is named, is canon after all.
The fact that the scent is masculine but could be worn by women as well is an added bonus, like the boyish cut styles Coco Chanel made her own.

 And last but not least there's Muguet Porcelaine by Hermes, them of the scarves fame, in the boutique-only Hermessences line, a green lily of the valley. Since perfumer Jean Claude Ellena, he of best-selling fragrances fame, has been working on this idea for a long time, perhaps longer that he has ever admitted to, taking into account that Roudnitska was his mentor, it should be interesting. Lily of the valley has served for soap-clean references for ages, so let's see what happens.

Hermes Hermessence Epice Marine: new fragrance preview

The sea accord is sweet. The smell coming from the bed of the ocean and the misty fog in Brittany is not. To evoke therefore the changing scenery of Mont Saint Michel which recalls seascapes by Turner and pirate adventures full of spices, wooden floors and smoked woods, in house Hermès perfumer Jean Claude Ellena pairs an algae & smoky whisky accord with spices to render a "spicy marine" fragrance, namely Epice Marine (which translates exactly like that). Marine fragrances are the anathema of many a hard-core perfume aficionado, mainly due to the prevailing of this genre during the 1990s, a landmark for perfumery which created with its deeply artificial nuance as many foes as it did acolytes. But if there is one illusionist able to shutter biases and make perfumephiles see things anew, it is without doubt Ellena. And that's what he does in his latest Hermessence; beyond the sea, but not far from it all the same.

Epice Marine, the 11th Hermessence fragrance, is inspired on the one hand by the Saint-Malo milieu, full of celtic traditions and the marine songs of the changing scenery of Mont Saint Michel, that is so familiar to Olivier Roellinger (3 stars Michelin chef & owner of Maisons de Bricourt in Cancale) and on the other hand by the Provencal countryside of Cabris where Hermès perfumer Jean Claude Ellena spends his days immersed in the serene Mediterranean blue. The conversation between these two opposing, and yet converging worlds, took the course of a passionate and prolonged epistolary exchange of views between the two men during the course of many months, starting with Roellinger's invitation to Ellena in october 2011 to come over at Cancale at La Maison du Voyager (the voyager's mansion) where the chef grew up and keeps his spice & savory archives for his restaurants.

pic provided to PerfumeShrine via Hermes

An idea begins to take shape in Ellena's mind as he listens to his friend recount the seafaring adventures required to amass and distribute green cardamom and Sichuan pepper on the Spice Route during the 16th century and the trafficking conducted by pirates. Contrary to bourgeois perfumery, which uses several accords and complicated combinations "to render an effect", Ellena likes to zero-in on the essentials, rendered in an artistic way which allows to highlight unexpected facets.

Toasted cumin grains, sent from Cancale to Cabri, seal the deal for the new concept: Epice Marine will focus on this polarizing note which is central to the adventures of seafaring. But contrary to the usual cumin essence which has a tendency to recall human sweat to some people, this toasted cumin variety renders an aromatic oil which is human-smelling all the same, carnal and skin-like, as Ellena divulges, but in a very sensual tonality. Ellena has this spice distilled to render an essential oil which encompasses notes of toasted bread, hazelnut, sesame; these nuances are deeply exciting to Ellena, who proceeds to write to Roellinger to relay his appreciation and to inform him that he is continuing, with a bigger order for the toasted spice, allied with cinnamon and cardamom.

via aromo.ru

Epice Marine by Hermès also uses a generous helping of bergamot to give a vibrant start. To that he has added a synthetic molecule which recalls algae, a more oceanic feel than the sea accord. This is done intentionally as the "sea" note is sweeter than the ocean at Brittany (la Bretagne), which is drier, saltier, more savory. The coupling of the algae note with the spice manages to evoke that. But one thing is missing... The scent of the marine mist, that deep humid scent that comes out of the seabed. This is the definitive accent, provided by a smoky, peaty note of whisky constructed anew by Ellena himself, specifically inspired by the Bruichladdich whisky (a gorgeous single malt from the Hebrides with elegant floral notes). It evokes the boiled buckwheat and the North-East winds of the foggy Brittany.

After 24 mods, the perfumer is still not satisfied with the development of the composition. The smokiness and the oceanic notes seem a little flat to him. He reworks the oakmoss essence variety used in the base, deducts the vetiver variety used previously, and works on a source water "note" to lessen the salty aspect of the fragrance. It is now March 2012. In two months the finished fragrance will be ready but it will take a while to see the light of day: in September 2013 Epice Marine will hit the boutiques. The adventure begins...

 certain notes thanks to Sybille Grandchamp of Vanity Fair France, translated by the author.

Hermes (Hermessence) Santal Massoia: fragrance review

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

photo via 2luxury2.com

Hermes Hermessence Iris Ukiyoe (2010): An Off-Beat Fragrance Review from a Club Patron

~by guest writer AlbertCAN

Voici des fruits, des fleurs, des feuilles et des branches

Et puis voici mon coeur qui ne bat que pour vous.

Ne le déchirez pas avec vos deux mains blanches

Et qu'à vos yeux si beaux l'humble présent soit doux.

J'arrive tout couvert encore de rosée

Que le vent du matin vient glacer à mon front.

Souffrez que ma fatigue à vos pieds reposée

Rêve des chers instants qui la délasseront.

Sur votre jeune sein laissez rouler ma tête

Toute sonore encor de vos derniers baisers;

Laissez-la s'apaiser de la bonne tempête,

Et que je dorme un peu puisque vous reposez.

(Here - some fruit, some flowers, some leaves and branches,

And here - my heart which beats for you alone.

Do not rend it with your two pale hands,

But let it be a small gift, sweet to your beauteous eyes.

I arrive covered with dew,

Which the morning wind freezes upon my brow.

Suffer me in my fatigue to lie at your feet,

Dreaming of sweet moments that will revive me.

On your young bosom let my head rest,

Still filled with your last kisses;

Let my thoughts subside after such a wondrous storm

And let me sleep a little while you lie by my side.)*

--Green by Paul Verlaine (1844-1896), from Romances sans paroles (1874)

No, the world hasn’t bestowed me the gift of colour blindness, but synesthesia deftly filled my mind in delicate verdant extravagence with the Paul Verlaine poem above; more precisely, in true Symbolist fashion,the aquarelle images of the poem glow in succinct progression one after the other. It happened late afternoon today, as I was sampling Iris Ukiyoé, the ninth instalment of the Hermessence collection by in-house master perfumer Jean-Claude Ellena, at the Hermès downtown Vancouver boutique.

At this point many avid readers of Perfume Shrine—and my humble blog Les Tuileries—might just know the idiosyncrasy of the paragraph I just composed. By courtesy I should have cited Ellena’s muse, Water Iris and Grasshopper by Hokusai, and based on all official press release to date I doubt my mental short-circuit would be even considered logical by merit—but strangely enough my private recitation of the poem in hindsight is nonetheless a gentle launch pad in order to dive into the diaphanous story. Still, I should probably backtrack myself a bit and talk about how I got there, for the anecdote is probably one of the most bizarre episodes I’ve ever encountered: one could say that I was stranded in Hermès!

My tale to be told actually started this May when I requested maintenance service to my vintage khaki green Ex Libris silk scarf, since the once plump hand-rolled edges got dutifully flattened by a callous dry cleaner. It was the fourth time I went through a repair process at the downtown Vancouver boutique, and by all accounts everything was going to be routine—my sales associate sat down with me, examined the conditions of the item and filled out a specific form. Six months flew by and I figured, like all previous three times, I would simply show up and collect my treasure—in and out, ten minutes top.

Except this day, December 6th, wasn’t just a typical Monday: the intimate store was packed with patrons. My lovely sales associate Irina was in fact running around because she was in the midst of an intricate watch consultation. Ten minutes flew by before she had a chance to chat with me, “I’m so sorry, Albert! Your scarf is all ready for you.” And she turned to her colleague (who shall remain nameless for reasons that would be soon obvious) and said, “The client is here to pick up his scarf from Paris. It’s in the back storage room.” Irina promptly left, I was asked if I have my repair form with me.

Upon being told that I did not have my maintenance form with me the sales associate started raising her voice, “Just so you know, you will NEVER be able to pick up your item unless you have your form with you! Did you get a call from us?” There I was, in the middle of the showroom, with everyone looking at me! I was horrified as I explained that nobody in the past asked me to bring the form back and it was, in fact, Irina who helped me with the maintenance process last time so my identity should not be in doubt. Without the slightest pause the sales associate replied, “Very well, it’s probably best that Irina help you. Have a seat.” After expressing my desire to explore the store further the lady didn’t budge. “Have a seat.” It was then that I felt like a disobedient puppy that got thoroughly disciplined, but fortunately that was when I noticed the new Hermessence so I had something to do while waiting for Irina to come back. Five minutes went by; ten more minutes went by; another fifteen minutes went by as I immersed myself in Iris Ukiyoé, and my personal discourse with Verlaine promptly started.

To be frank I was prepared to be surprised by the opening of Iris Ukiyoé, but nothing could prepare me for the neo-classical eau de cologne effect of the fragrance opening, complete with a tart green tangerine, petitgrain, neroli—except a mildly bitter vegetal/floral axis kept the whole story on track. And lo and behold the abstract floral effect started to take shape, aided no doubt by a slight aquatic, lily-like effect that Ellena visited in Vanille Galante (2008). Now I should note that the sillage, given its combination of lily and the refreshing bitter elements, reminds me of the original Issey Miyake L’Eau d’Issey (1990), but done so in a much more delicate, precise manner, meant as an evocation of morning dew instead of a mini zen waterfall.

I would be very hard-pressed to report that orris, the traditionally powdery extraction of Iris pallida, is actively present. And my experience with Hermessence has taught me not to take any launch after Osmanthe Yunnan (2005) at face value: and since Paprika Brasil (2006) was a manifestation of spice via orris, Vanille Galante a study of vanilla from lily I presumed that this iris would come out of cocoa, as Ellena previously stated. The hypothesis, of course, is null. What we have here is an abstract blossom of Iris germanica, modern hybrids to be exact.

What most perfume brands would not tell consumers, while enamoured with the aspirational prowess of the costly orris root (with the scent best described as violet covered in chalk—works wonders when the right amount of gravitas should be called for, as classically demonstrated in Chanel No. 19 parfum), the mauve blossoms of Iris pallida smells exactly like inexpensive grape candies: quite sweet, in fact. Now the flowers themselves, which display the classic fleur-de-lys shape, are at no fault, but its harsh grape-scented accent would prove to be too strong in a fragrance.

Blossoms from the modern hybrids of I. germanica, on the other hand, are the almost exact opposite: the French word inclassable comes to mind. Based on the ones I’ve sampled a norm doesn’t exist, but most have a citrus backbone with a dash of fresh rosy nuance—soft and somewhat non-descript to be honest. (It doesn’t help that most irisarians value the bloom visuals over scent, and that the scent changes once cut.) Thus in order to create this iris Ellena needs to conjure up ghosts—a dash of non-descript floracy here (IFF’s hedione supérieure, complete with its clean jasmine facet, would be my guess), an icy rose accord there—to bring the whole thing to shape. In fact I would attribute (applying my no-doubt elementary perfumery knowledge here) the orris effect, which murmurs pretty much at the end as a velvety touch, more to a tea-like methyl ionone rather than orris absolute.

So in this sense of hologramism that I consider Iris Ukiyoé true to the original transient nature of its Japense namesake artistic genre: so fragile that it never was, because it was precisely never there in the first place. Behind each ukiyo-e print block is a Buddhist caveat: it’s a painting of the floating world, and with the next turn of the world the picture would be all that remains. Iris Ukiyoé isn’t a realistic decoding of an iris blossom fragrance, nor has that been the point all along: it’s a composition of bubbles threaded together with precision, but done with so much care and quiet observance that one forgets the mosaic tiles, instead marvelling at the hologram.

In fact it’s that exact care coming from Ellena that, at least to me, differentiates Iris Ukiyoé from mass launches: not only there’s cohesion in fragrance development, it feels as if the olfactory structure has been thoroughly hollowed out and knocked down before the whole was put together. To me this is very much a continuation of Ellena’s Hermès survey to the aquatic world ever since Un jardin après la mousson (2008), with a detour at Vanille Galante. But the story is there if one looks for it. The challenge to Ellena, of course, was to create an aquatic without using the traditional aquatic elements—Calone, musks... The master perfumer is averse to both, so a hologram on top of an iris blossom hologram. Still, underneath all that aquatic/ citrus / floral verdency lie a gentle frankness, a tenderness that reminds me of the Verlaine poem above. It’s the syntax after all, perhaps.

At this point I should recap what happened to my scarf. After 35 minutes of waiting, a third sales associate came along. Wendy—whom has seen me at the boutique for four years running now—asked me if I’ve been helped. Technically no, and I wasn’t amused…but she overheard what happened, so she quickly asked my name, dashed to the storage room and found my scarf. All done, wonderfully repaired—and true to Hermès generosity I was asked a reasonable price to compensate for the craftsmen’s effort. That’s why I’m here, I signed as I took my scarf back.

But that’s not the end of the story: Irina wrapped up her consultation around this time and apologized again for her delay. (She’s truly one of the best I’ve known.) And without hesitation she gave me samples of Iris Ukiyoé, and since the classic scarf box was out of stock a new rectangular Hermès orange box, enclosed with an additional box in the motif of Mosaique au 24 was given instead. All this was done with more apologies for the delay and the gentle explanation from Wendy that security measures would have to be performed for maintenance items. (I was promptly asked for my ID and my autograph on the official maintenance form.) Without a doubt I replied that, having been working at a major international financial institution for almost a year, while I can appreciate the thoughts behind the idea (God forbid if someone else walks away with my Hermès leather boots—and I couldn’t begin to imagine the horror any sales associate would go through if a crocodile Birkin is returned to the wrong person!) I was never told to bring my maintenance form—and the fact that I was ID-ed from the start from Irina as the right client added a whole new level of mystery to me. But at the end of the day I got everything I wanted: well, almost—I was disappointed that I couldn’t get any new silk tie and cashmere scarf because I already have had at least one of everything (that I like) from this season already. Well, better off since my drawers are already bursting with orange bags & boxes.

Would I be back? Absolutely, but maybe that latest Haut à Courroies bag custom order can wait for now. In the meantime I shall be busy experimenting with Iris Ukiyoé.

For a list of notes please refer to this link here. Iris Ukiyoé is now available at Hermès boutiques.

* English translation by Gary Bachlund

Scarves & samples pic: copyright by AlbertCAN. Bottle from the Hermes website

Hermessence Vanille Galante by Hermes: fragrance review

"Days begin and end in the dead of night. They are not shaped long, in the manner of things which lead to ends – arrow, road, man's life on earth. They are shaped round, in the manner of things eternal and stable – sun, world, God". ~Jean Giono

Jean Claude Ellena's ~resident perfumer of la maison Hermès~ favourite author sums up the mise en scène that the newest Hermessence radiates quietly: roundness, grace and a nostalgic lapsarian intimation of the eternal upon gazing beauty.
Revisiting my musings on how Jean Claude Ellena would interpret a note that is quite taken for granted, that of vanilla, I am reminded of what I had said: "Vanilla is exactly the cliché note that begs for Jean Claude Ellena's modus operandi: chastizing it by food deprivation would be beneficial pedagogically, I feel". It is with some suprise and delight, now I have obtained my own bottle of Vanille Galante, that I realise he doesn't focus so much on the bean flavour as much as on the fluffy, almost cloudy, cotton-feathery aspect it reproduces as a memento of certain flowers' inner core: lily, ylang ylang, and what I sense as the innermost pollen of lilac and wisteria, flowers which exude the most intoxicating, spicy and a little "dirty" underside. I have long felt that Jean Claude is an extremely sensual man with a keen intelligence that makes him exhibit a subtle eroticism in his creations and the language of flowers is by its nature supremely erotic. (After all flowers are the reproductive organs of plants and their aim is to attract pollinators). Let's not forget therefore that vanilla itself is a flower ~an exotic orchid of aphrodisiac properties with which Jean Claude has occupied himself even as an co-author in "Vanilles et Orchidées". And for those who believe in his transparent trajectory through le corps du métier he never produced a foody vanilla, there is proof to the contrary in his woody-edible Sublime Vanille (2001) for Lily Prune!

The French adjective "galant" (or "galante" for feminine nouns) has an intriguing background: In the romans de cour/courtly literature, that is the medieval novels of nobility (for example "Le Roman de la Rose" from 1420-30), "galant" signifies the quality of courteous, gentlemanly and often amorous. The phrase "en galante companie" thus signified the company of a representative of the opposite sex. An attracting vanilla then, but also idealised, exalted, romanticized in an almost Platonic ideal. In musical terms, "galant" refers to the European style of classical simplicity after the complexity of the late Baroque era in the third quarter of the 18th century with pre-eminent representatives the rhythmical composers François Couperin, Jean-Philippe Rameau, Georg Philipp Telemann and Antonio Vivaldi . Their cyclical forma ties in with the theme of La Reverdie (the return) in literary roman: that of eternal return of spring, a theme of pagan connotations . The common trait would be the lyrical approach of solidly thematic subjects, which could sneak into the treatment of vanilla in Vanille Galante, or what I will from now on affectionaly call "péripéties de vanilla". Thus Jean Claude ambitiously set out to produce an « insolent, complex et paradoxical» blossom that would shatter all preconceptions of how a vanilla fragrance would smell, aiming not at a photorealistic figurative imprint but an almost narrative play at personal impressions devoid of cheap sentimentalities. We reference Jean Giono again ~he says in "Voyage en Italie" that "Describing a painting in sentiments might seem better [than describing it in colours] but it only serves to shuffle the cards". Thus Ellena finds the core of his artistic philosophy anew: He reads "le sentiment" (the sentiment), but he hears "le-sens-qui-ment" (the sense that lies).

Eschewing the typical synthesized vanillin used in gourmand compositions as an easy trompe nez, Jean Claude went for a segment of authentic vanilla extract's olfactory facet; that of the slightly powdery and ethereal, producing a lithe, delicate composition like a swan's feather, like the whitest cotton balls, that truly breathes sensuously only on skin with the achingly poignant timbre of beauty destined to be ephemeral. Using a technique à rebours, Ellena doesn't use vanilla as an anchor of more volatile components nor does he render it dark, boozy and sinfully calorific à la Guerlain (Spiritueuse Double Vanille but also Shalimar and Shalimar Light ;and let's not forget Ylang et Vanille). He diffuses his vision into the clouds with adroitness and a playful sense of optimism, much like he did with L'Eau d'Hiver, when he was playing with the cassie, anisaledhyde and the warm savoury aspects of Apres L'Ondée.
The secret of Vanille Galante is kept by the great master in his favourite conjuring bag of tricks, to be partially revealed at his discretion. He had expresssed similar magical resourcefulness in Bois Farine and in the adumbration of saddlery hinted behind the florals in Kelly Calèche. In Vanille Galante the intriguing touch is the merest whiff of salty, of savoury, upon opening ~a facet that is used in haute patisserie to enhance the flavour and balance the sweeter aspects~ foiled into a lightly spicy one (comparable to how the innnermost stemons of white lilies smell) taking flight onto a mist of salicylates for diffusion (ylang ylang naturally encompasses benzyl salicylate and eugenol). The play is between spicy flowers, yellow flowers and anisic ones. The slight greeness, almost filled with watery liquid, note of jasmine vine is soon engulfed by a finespun suntan, powdery musky* and smoky balletic move.
*{Ellena likes to use Musc T, Muscone and Muscenone, which are rather powdery , expensive, non-laundry musks}.
In whole, there is no mistaking the European pedigree and atmosphere of Vanille Galante! There is no heaviness of languid exoticism despite the mental connotation of Marie Galante, the island of the Caribbean located in the Guadeloupean archipelago. Nor is there the escapism of endless summers under the cruel sun of the Tropics of Atuana. Urban sophistication and modernity prevail: The sense of the perfume is not diaphanous, nor opaque, but somewhere in-between, a little carnal, a little "dirty" underneath it all, forming a new direction in the mold of an airy floral gourmand that will have everyone copying it soon enough.

Lovers of Serge Lutens' Un Lys and Donna Karan's Gold would find a kindred spirit in Vanille Galante; nevertheless, the waxier aspects of the former are here rendered in a language of less oily interplay and the disposition is more in the Pantone scale of yellow than monumental marble white.
Vanille Galante is not only graceful, but terrifically gracious as well, offering a glimpse of warm sun and fleshy, smooth shoulders in the heart of winter. J'aime bien!

Vanille Galante forms part of the Hermessences collection and is accordingly available exclusively at Hermès boutiques around the world in a 100ml/3.4oz bottle or as a travel set of 4 smaller flacons of 15ml/0.5oz each.

Related reading on Perfumeshrine: Jean Claude Ellena scents review and opinions, the Hermessences, Hermes news and reviews.

Other reviews: Perfume Posse,Grain de Musc, 1000fragrances, auparfum, Peredepierre

Bottle pic © by Helg/Perfumeshrine
"A ride in the country" by H.Toulouse-Lautrec
Swan feather caught in foliage, via ngsprints.co.uk

Vetiver Tonka by Hermes: fragrance review and lucky draw

To bean or not to bean? The answer at Hermès is there is no bean counting in their pursuit for true luxury, but when it comes to perfumery, they go tonka bean all the way! What's the point of my word-play? That the delectable raw material of tonka beans has been utilised in the most delicious way paired with earthy vetiver in their mouthwatering fragrance Vétiver Tonka. Composed by in-house perfumer Jean Claude Ellena in 2004 as part of the original quartet for Hermès's exclusive collection for their boutiques, the Hermessences, Vétiver Tonka was meant to interpret the sensation of wool. (the other Hermessences also capture the drape of various fabrics). "Comfortable, fresh, affirmed" is how they chose to describe it themselves and I couldn't agree more.

Subtly edible notes with cigar-flavoured accents are folded into a classy amalgam by the genius light hand of a conjurer: Jean Claude Ellena's strongest suit. The warm smokiness that alludes to pouches of rich tobacco is an element that I am sorely missing in the current batches of the classic Vétiver by Guerlain where it was providing an inviting hug after the grassy delights, but happily the coumarin-rich smell of tonka beans remains intact. Guerlain's version is of course overall much more citrusy, vetiver in itself possessing an hesperidic facet that is often used as a springboard in composing masculine colognes around it. Jean Claude merely hints at that aspect of the exotic grass seguing on to "cleaner" notes that almost instantenously get the smothering treatment of an artistic flou via hazy notes, much like the flour part of his Bois Farine for L'artisan parfumeur.

Vétiver Tonka encompasses the tempered note of vetiver that re-appeared in Terre d'Hermès two years later ~also by Ellena. He seems to love the material, using the Haitian vetiver essential oil, vetiverol as well as vetyveryl acetate. Ever since Déclaration, a spicy masterpiece in my opinion, he has been using all those beloved materials in various incarnations, all the way to the specifically ordered vetiver extraction he procured for the intriguing and perplexing Un Jardin après la Mousson. That said, lovers of strong, dank, almost musty vetiver should rather look for it in Route de Vetiver by Maitre Parfumer et Gantier or Vétiver Extraordinaire by F.Malle.

The violet-like note of alpha isomethyl-ionone (which is sniffable in another Hermessence too, Paprika Brasil, where it takes almost an iris nuance) is the humorous touch that Jean Claude tricks us with: he did the same thing pairing beta ionone (also reminiscent of violets) with hedione to come up with the scent of tea in Bulgari's Eau parfumée au Thé Vert.
The dominant force however is tonka bean , which has a hay/caramel vanilla-ish scent, very soothing, very creamy. Smelling it from the bottle or on a blotter at first it seems a bit clashing ~to be excpected since the two elements are so antithetical on first reading, but on skin it is predominantly sweetish, velvety soft and nutty-oily, which I find sublimely comforting. The naturally dry and woody smell of vetiver as well as a slight bitterness inherent in tonka beans provide a counterpoint to the sweet float of the vanillic base, so the whole is perfectly balanced between dryness and comfort; which sets it one step ahead of the equally mouthwatering but much more gourmand Ambre Narguilé from the same line and for me personally makes it more wearable in warmer weather than the denser Vétiver Oriental by Serge Lutens. This charming duet dances in situ for hours with little change, but boredom never enters the equation as the combined efforts sing at an unheard of before frequency. Additionally there is an interplay of cool and warm facets which makes for stimulating results making Vétiver Tonka suitable for every climate and every season. It lasts very well for an eau de toilette, perhaps more than any other in the collection, is perfectly unisex and has moderate, elegant sillage.

So to answer my introductory word-play, I have been for the bean in a most decisive way ever since I first tried it: Reader, I have spent most of last summer in it!

For one lucky reader interested in a sample triad of the last three niche vetivers reviewed (Malle, Lutens, Hermes), plase state your interest in the comments.
Draw will run throughout the weekend.
Notes for Vétiver Tonka : bergamot, neroli, lily of the valley, cereal notes, dried fruit, tonka bean, vetiver, tobacco, sandalwood.

Vétiver Tonka by Hermès (2004) forms part of the Hermessences exclusive collection, sold at their boutiques in spartan bottle with leather-covered caps. It comes in either 100ml/2.4oz or a set of 4x15ml/0.5oz travel set sprayers. (There is also the option of getting it in a set of pre-selected 15ml travel sprayers along with 3 other Hermessences for the uniform price of 150 euros).

For a comprehensive analysis of vetiver fragrances click Vetiver Series.

Pic of Ralph Fiennes courtesy of Evy Nef at photobucket. Bottle pic through Fragrantica.

New Hermessence Vanille Galante: fragrance news & musings

Hot on the heels of the news on a new Chanel in Les Exclusifs line, named Beige and mysteriously kept under wraps at Saks which however will carry it, as reported on Perfume Shrine first, here come the news on a new Hermessence.

AlbertCan had the scoop just yesterday:

"Hermès is in the midst of launching another Hermessence fragrance. Vanille Galante will be available at Hermès boutiques in around January 2009. The scent shall be issued in the usual Hermessence editions: the prices will be the same as the others as well".

Perfume Shrine got excited and decided to flesh this out, so here we are.
In-house perfumer Jean Claude Ellena, responsible for the house's latest, the sleeper classic Kelly Calèche and the controversial Un Jardin après la Mousson, is now focusing on vanilla.
Generally vanilla is one of the most popular themes in perfumery, due to its almost universal appeal. It harks back to the glorious days of Jicky (1889) and if the latter is any indication it's not an easy feat to accomplish. Even legendary Chanel perfumer Ernest Beaux complained that "when he was trying for vanilla he got crème anglaise, while Guerlain came up with Jicky!" The secret to that, apart from coumarin, was that the then newly discovered chemical path to synthetic vanillin by JC.W Tieman left traces of phenol, which smelled tarry-smokey. Today the effect in Jicky is reproduced via adding a little rectified birch tar. Still, this story proves that a good vanilla needs to be a little molested in order to give out its best.

But in the new Hermès Vanille Galante, the sweet material is embedded in a composition that attaches the moniker of "galante" to it. The French adjective galant (or galante for feminine nouns) has an intriguing background: in the romans de cour/courtly literature, that is the medieval novels of nobility (example Le Roman de la Rose from 1420-30), "galant" signifies the quality of courteous, gentlemanly and often amorous. The phrase "en galante companie" thus signified the company of a representative of the opposite sex.
Ellena being an intellectual man, might we expect in Vanille Galante a vanilla that is accompanied by a note which is its opposite, in order to highlight the true character all the more pronouncedly? Would it mean that vanilla essence, in itself a multi-complex natural material, should get a treatment like lavender had in Brin de Reglisse, the previous Hermessence from 2007? In that one, Ellena focused on the higher octaves of lavender absolute, which veer into caramel and licorice tonalities. Or the vetiver treatment he reserved for Un Jardin sur le Nil and Terre d'Hermes, in which he had molecules subtracted from the essence in order to arrive at a sparser, clearer, almost mineral vetiver message?
On the other hand, in musical terms, galant refers to the European style of classical simplicity after the complexity of the late Baroque era in the third quarter of the 18th century with pre-eminent representatives the rhythmical composers François Couperin, Jean-Philippe Rameau, Georg Philipp Telemann and Antonio Vivaldi . Their cyclical forma ties in with the theme of la Reverdie (return) in literary roman: that of eternal return of spring, a theme of pagan connotations .
The common trait would be the lyrical approach of solidly thematic subjects, which could sneak into the treatment of vanilla in Vanille Galante, or what I will from now on affectionaly call "péripéties de vanilla".

Vanilla is exactly the cliché note that begs for Jean Claude Ellena's modus operandi: chastiting it by food deprivation would be beneficial pedagogically, I feel. Vanillin (a natural developping aldehyde in vanilla pods and the most widely produced aromatic in the world) has its place in the arsenal of Ellena's carousel, as does ethyl maltol (the cotton-candy aromachemical first used in L'artisan's Vanilia, while maltol is also present in licorice, evident in Brin de Reglisse as discussed above). Nevertheless he has professed in an earlier interview that he is bored by "easy" notes such as vanillin and heliotropin. Yet he has produced his share of gourmand exempla, such as Bois Farine (2003), Elixir des Merveilles (2006) and Sublime Vanille (2001) for Lily Prune!
Vanilline however can be produced via gaïacol, eugenol or even lignine from cardboard manufacture. It's used in order to produce the scents of vanilla (of course), chocolate and banana. I am wondering whether those references might give Ellena some ideas on how to extend this note. Banana-peel is one of the nuances that some white florals, notably jasmine sambac and ylang-ylang, emit. However white florals have long been allied to vanilla and it strikes me as an unimaginative and too "talkative" coupling for an Ellena creation. Perhaps he will surprise us with a zen approach.

Additionally, Hermès wants to keep up with the competition in the niche stakes with other mega-houses: in this regard, Guerlain and its dark, rich Spiritueuse Double Vanille ~it proved to be such a good seller, that it was elevated from the status of limited, ephemeral edition into the permanent collection at Boutiques Guerlain and expanded to select doors(or was that the reverse marketing masterplan all along?, this scepticist is wondering).
Hermès can't break up the exclusivity factor of the Hermessences if Vanille Galante proves to be a bestseller without ruining the whole concept and shooting itself at the foot. What they could do however is keep the skeleton of the composition as the basis of their following feminine -most probably- fragrance. (two pieces of speculation at once, don't you love it here?)

The above constitute hypotheses on my part. We will update when more information becomes available from our sources. One thing seems for sure: We will be able to exclaim "Mais, c'est un Ellena!" (but it's an Ellena creation).

EDIT TO ADD: Six from Ambre Gris brought to my attention that it might be a simple allusion to Marie Galante, the island of the Caribbean located in the Guadeloupean archipelago. Constitutionally part of France, as Guadeloupe is an overseas région and département, MG is famous for its sugar cane but also cultures of tobacco, indigo, coffee and cotton.

Hermessences are available exclusively at select Hermès boutiques around the world. The bottles come at 100ml priced at 150 euros and there is also the option of a travel set of 4 aromisers of 15ml each (0.5oz) in either the same scent or 4 different ones in pre-arranged sets.

Read my full-on review of Vanille Galante following this link!

"Yvain secourant la damoiselle" from the Lancelot du Lac by Chretien de Trois manuscript. Vanilla pod and extract pic by Miri Rotkovitz(herbesspices.about.com)