Emanuel Ungaro Diva: fragrance review & reminiscences

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

(pic via)

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

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

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

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

Aftelier Perfume Palimpsest: fragrance review

I recall a particularly tough professor back in my University days demanded such hard-to-crack questions that one way to bypass embarrassment and speech impediments during the ordeal of the oral examination was to begin by defining what a thing wasn't supposed to be, the latter part of the definition implied to be known to both partners in the discussion at least.  Example: "Kintsugi has absolutely no relation to ikebana."  [ed.note all right, all right, apart from both being Japanese concepts, I mean].  This kind of "definition by negation" is sometimes useful to the fragrance writer because perfume descriptions are so very hard to do justice to in the first place. Palimpsest is one such case, not only because it has an indefinable quality of pure exquisiteness, but also because it is perfumer Mandy Aftel's very best.

Zil Hoque; Oil, 2009, "Palimpsest I"  via (recalling the horse in Salvador Dali's Tempation of St.Anthony) 

I can begin by saying that Aftelier Palimpsest is nothing like you'd expect an all naturals perfume to smell like; although I'm fond of the raw energy of some all naturals, there is a certain medicinal or vegetal quality that sometimes comes a bit too forcefully at first, which is probably the reason there is so much hesitation among perfume enthusiasts regarding this branch of perfumery art. One of the reasons for avoiding that might be that Mandy is using natural isolates for the first time in such a context, such as gamma dodecalactone (peachy, apricot-y) and phenylacetic acid (a honeyed note). They play out beautifully.
Another thing that I could negate is the official definition of a "fruity floral". Yes, the ripe peachiness is not unknown among fruity floral perfumes, but it's as far removed from the typical Barbie wannabe on the Sephora counter as could possibly be. With a name like Palimpsest I suppose one would expect it to deviate far and wide!

Palimpsest is a word I first came by when I was 15 and reading The Name of the Rose, the famous novel by Umberto Eco, "a palimpsest" as the author  introduced it. The cunning of the narrative technique relied on making the narrator retell a story that is based on an even earlier narration, lifted from an older manuscript and with extensive quotations from other books often in their turn referencing even older books. As Eco maintains throughout his opus in an intertextual turn of mind "books talk about other books" which is true enough in my, lesser than his, experience. All the tales are being woven into a "palimpsest", the old parchment scroll that bears writing over former writing that had been carefully scratched off to make room for new but is still vaguely visible beneath. In a similar manner perfumes talk about other perfumes and intertextuality in scent is a wonderful dialogue that I had occupied myself with breaking down a bit in the past.

via

Aftelier Palimpsest is one such perfume, taking inspirations from several points of departure and offering something new and coherent, recapitulating the history of perfumery, a given since it sprang from the research Aftel did for her book "Fragrant" out this October (you can order it on discount on this link), but being contemporary all the same! Midnight in the Garden of Eden; honeyed streams of lush florals (jasmine grandiflorum) with a sensuous and mysterious Lilith undercurrent of what I perceive as ambergris (a refined animalic perfume note), speak of a layered tapestry where one is hard pressed to see where one golden thread ends and another, in a slightly different hue, begins.

As Gaia, The Non Blonde, notes in her excellent review on the origins of the inspiration for Palimpsest:

"The gum of the Australian firetree (also known as Christmas tree), or by its official name, Nuytsia floribunda, is sweet and eaten raw by the ingenious people of Western Australia. It's not a common ingredient in perfumery (the only other one I know of was the limited edition Fire Tree by Australian brand Nomad Two Worlds, and I had a hard time warming up to its rawness). I never smelled the firetree as a raw ingredient, so it's hard for me to tell how much of what I smell in Palimpsest comes from it and what is pure imagination. But fantasy is a big part of the perfume joy, isn't it?"

My palette of raw materials, though rather extensive, is similarly limited in regards to this particular essence, so any opinion I might proffer on the adherence to the natural facets of the material would be illusory and misleading. Mandy herself mentions that firetree has rose and lilac facets with a milky undertone that the longer it develops the more it reveals smoky, oud-like, leathery tones. Talk about a multi-tasker! "It possesses an unearthly beauty which, ironically, arises from the soil", says fragrance connoisseur and fairy godmother to indies Ida Meister.
What I can say with certainty myself is that the golden incandescence of Aftelier Palimpsest has to be experienced first hand and quickly at that.

Aftelier Palimpsest comes as an eau de parfum (full bottle costs $170) and an extrait de parfum (same price). Samples of either retail at $6, while a mini of the pure parfum will set you back $50 on aftelier.com.

In the interests of disclosure, I was sent a sample vial directly by the perfumer for reviewing purposes. 

M.Micallef Le Parfum Couture Denis Durand: new fragrance

Le Parfum Couture Denis Durand for M.Micallef has just been released on the occasion of the Cannes Shopping Festival. Creating for 20 years, the fashion designer from Lyon has achieved real fame with a demanding clientele permanently looking for exceptional pieces able to combine future trends, timeless elegance, and a perfect hand-made savoir-faire. Since the showroom opening in Cannes in 2010, the Denis Durand brand evokes wonderful creations, evening and wedding dresses. Each one is a unique piece, made in the most delicate fabrics and embroidered with semi-precious stones and Swarovski crystals, and recalls his personal universe referring to classic movies and legendary stars.



Through Martine Micallef's and Denis Durand's close friendship and artistic cooperation, a glamourous, mystic and sophisticated perfume was born: Le Parfum Couture Denis Durand for M. Micallef. The fragrance composition explodes on citrus head notes spiced with cinnamon. Intense and complex, the heart and the base cleverly balance the rose, orange blossom and honey softness with the strength of animalis and woody notes.

Notes for Les Parfum Couture Denis Durant for M.Micallef:
Head Notes: Ceylon cinnamon, Italian tangerine
Heart Notes: Bulgarian rose, orange blossom, honey and animalis
Base Notes: sandalwood, patchouly, amber and white musk.

Dressed with hand sewn delicate Chantilly black lace, the bottle is adorned with a little satin bow and a golden medal with the initials of the two artists. Available as Eau de Parfum spray 50ml/1.7oz from April 2013 at select stockists, retailing at 145€.

Parfums Weil Chunga: fragrance review & history

To understand the demise of Chunga is to realize that it is truly unmarketable in today's world: For a feminine perfume it flunks the test of being traditionally pretty or particularly becoming, demanding too much out of its wearer in both intelligence and attitude (After all it was advertised with the slogan "for women who want the world"). For a masculine (and men would be wise to try it if they can get their hands on some) it is an alien thing, being neither fresh -as is the majority of aquatic and aromatic fougeres around-, nor sexy -as are the orientalized woodies with succulent tonka and lots of sweet amber in the base. Maybe only Philip K. Dick replicas can wear Chunga by Weil right now, aside from dedicated perfumistas that is, which misses marketability points big time. But it's a shame, I can tell you that, because Chunga is a great fragrance coming from a great perfume house, the Weil fourruriers. (champions of the parfum fourrure notion)

The name comes from Micaela Flores Amaya, a Romani-born flamenco dancer known as "La Chunga" which translates as "the difficult woman"...and indeed the fragrance is somewhat "difficult" alright.
Introduced in 1977, Chunga comes in a string of great chypres with green elements and aldehydes that are elegantly assertive and resolutely determined: Chanel No.19, Lauder's Knowing, Coriandre by Jean Couturier, the first Jean Louis Scherrer fragrance. And thus lovers of the afore-mentioned perfumes are advised to seek out some Chunga for their collection.
In the print advertisements Chunga was targeting literally every woman and that included all races and all skin colors. A pioneering thought for a traditional French house! "Comme un nouvel horizon"...like a new horizon, which marked a new interest in encompassing more ethnicities in the game of perfume, reaping the benefits of feminine emancipation alongside the "black power" that emerged in the 1970s. Another set of print ads is tagged "et la fete commence" (i.e. and the celebration begins), showing a more typical couple in black tie in the midst of some dancing move, a more or less expected extension of perfume as a fashion accessory for a night out.

The olfactory structure of Chunga unfolds like a secret drawer within a drawer: The opening is aggressive, with its citric tang of bergamot and lemony tones sparkling like marble, with the particularly sharp incision of a scalpel, shiny and new and you think that it will remain arid and bitter and gloriously ingestible till the end, until the tables are turned and a second stage emerges. The base of Weil's Chunga is redolent of powdery amber, vetiver and a slightly urinous, honeyed, sweetish musky note that is quite retro; a throwback to days when bodies weren't deodorized to within an inch of their lives and hairy regions were much hairier than recent memory...on both sexes, that is.
The comparison with Weil's more popular and well-known, still-circulating-in-some-version-or-other Antilope perfume is not without its own value: Whereas Antilope is lady-like and more properly floral and feminine in the heart notes, Chunga like its name is butcher, more incisive, with elements that translate as more masculine or sharper. My own bottle is marked Parfum de Toilette, which nicely puts in it the early 1980s.

Chunga was the last fragrance issued by the house in Weil in 1977 and has since become a discontinued rarity. For those with an interest in chronicling the arc of the green, aldehydic, perfume-y chypre, it's incomparable and worth the investment.

Notes for Weil Chunga: aldehydes, bergamot, lemon, peach, clove, jasmine, lily of the valley, linden blossom, orris, ylang-ylang, amber, honey, Tonka bean, vanilla, vetiver, musk 

 pics via hprints.com, museodelparfum.com and punmiris.com

Serge Lutens Santal Majuscule: fragrance review & draw

The majestic scent of sandalwood stands as the benevolent Hitopadeśa tales of the Far East, a fan of fantasy woven in didactic morals for princes, much like the precious real fans carved out of the prized wood for cooling off in the intense heat of the Indian peninsula; rich, milky-smelling, with a hint of incense and fresh greenery at times, still retaining their scented glamour as decades go by. The intimate, elegant aura of woody fragrances finds its apogee in sandalwood; perfumes plush and collapsingly soft but with the promise of intelligence. Santal Majuscule by Serge Lutens just comes to reinforce this notion as introduced on these pages a while ago, being the perfect sandalwood starter fragrance for those seeking such a thing, but also a welcome Lutensian offering to make me fall again headfirst into his Alice in Wonderland private cosmos I found myself tangled in ever since he issued the sumptuous La Myrrhe. Lutens however remains Lutens: the orient is ever present, but it is the occident which defines his torturing demons. His new Santal Majuscule is an assured step in his Camino de Perfección, modeled after St.Teresa of Ávila whose Latin motto seals the fate of the fragrance: is it the throes of passion or the throes of divine ecstasy that mark the lines of her face? Where does one end and the other begin? Her devotion of silence is symbolic of the enigmatic nature of the Lutensian opus itself.

 "Pride must be celebrated. Thus the boy, clad in armor and perched on his horse, along with a terrible princess in full mourning dress, pictured himself arriving at the Coronation Mass to the sound of thundering hooves, just at the moment of the transubstantiation, that very moment when the priest holds the host up to the cross, to the one agonizing on it."

"As you know, there are a wide variety of sandalwoods. Mysore is one that has been subjected for some time to a hidden trafficking. I had used it in the mid 90s, during the creation of Santal de Mysore. Santal Blanc is another thing. Regarding Santal Majuscule, this is an Australian sandalwood, high quality, but with this release, I 'sensationalized' it so much that in the end, it is impossible to tell if it comes from India, Australia or elsewhere. What interests me is what I can do with it. Moreover, using sandalwood for itself alone would be a little 'Sandalwood of misery'...."               Serge Lutens quote from  interview bestowed to Elena Vosnaki

It's not hard to see why sandalwood ~despite having another two in the line already (Santal Blanc recently being moved into the Paris exclusives line to couple with the resident Santal de Mysore)~ was picked yet again as the foundation on which Lutens built his church, to paraphrase another religious reference. Sandalwood is the natural product par excellence, nature's agony and ecstasy: a scent so fine, so rich and yet with a fresh top note, so creamy sweet and so enduring, that it has inspired generations of men and women to harvest its precious, sacred trunk in order to imbue products for personal, religious and public use with its fine aroma. Although as explained in my Raw Material Sandalwood article the Mysore variety is rationed for fear of depletion (hence the wealth of synthetic sandalwood substitutes enumerated), the polished silkiness of the Indian variant could be mimicked creatively only by the choicest wizards of perfumery. And who more excellent than the mercurial figure of Serge Lutens to offer us a vista into the orientalia of a "nouveau sandalwood"?

The maestro revealed to me in an interview (replete with his childhood reminiscences of classroom ennui) that Santal Majuscule is technically based on the Australian sandalwood variety (which smells different), but I can attest the perfume ends up smelling like an radiant attar procured somewhere close to King Víkrama's lion-throne, creamy and luminous in its rose-distillate facets, sprinkled with promise of cocoa and soft spices (cinnamon), silky sheen with a hint of orange blossom honey and sweet incense in the background. After all, Lutens managed to inject a delicious effect of sandalwood in his savory gourmand fragrance Jeux de Peau, where the impression is again built on fantasy.
 For Santal Majuscule, perfumer Chris Sheldrake and Lutens weaved the familiar web of woody tonalities which they have composed a thesis and a meta-thesis on, ever since Feminite du Bois (the latter alongside Pierre Bourdon). But whereas their other woody compositions can veer dark and rather brooding (see the patchouli & cocoa fantasy of Borneo) and we know from Iris Silver Mist and Tubereuse Criminelle the master has a taste for the morose and the morbid, here the treatment is smiling; petal-soft, sweetish (but never much) and with an elegance and refined allure that defies preconceived notions. The rose is perceptible, but not "dated", The apricoty tinge gives just the right fruity, almost edible tenderness, an ally to the liqueur-like essence of Damask rose and the creaminess of the woods. But the fragrance is far from his Rahat Loukhoum gourmand quality you can give yourself cavities with, making it pliable enough for people who don't like double helpings of anything.

The composition of Santal Majuscule also defies ~especially upon drying down on the skin~ the familiar, been-there-done-that rose attar model of the Middle East: that traditional "A Thousand and One Nights" melange of rose and sandalwood, as recognizable as Aladdin's cave in the desert. The longer the fragrance stays on skin (and it stays on very long) the more it gains a skin-scent aura of musk and honey, animalic yet elegant, with an addictive character, unisex and inviting; like living, breathing, caressed human skin this close to the throes of (divine?) ecstasy.  As Serge says: "Obey what you smell, feel, love. Do not obey what you're told, and do not believe it too much!"[from same interview to the author]
Given all this, I just can't wait for Une Voix Noire, his next installment in the canon.

Compared to the other two sandalwood fragrances in the Serge Lutens line of perfumes, Santal Majuscule is less sweet than Santal Blanc, less daring and austere than Santal de Mysore. Contrasted with that other golden standard of sandalwood perfumes, Tam Dao by Diptyque, I find myself ensnared by the Lutens, mainly because where Tam Dao used to be true and rich, it now boasts a pronounced pencil-shavings cedarwood note which limits its prior rich versatility.

Santal Majuscule is available in Eau de Parfum "haute concentration" (i.e. the slightly pricer than normal black label line of high concentration) at Les Salons du Palais Royal in Paris and online. Starting September 1st 2012 the new "export" fragrance will be sold worldwide.

A generous decant sprayer of the latest Lutens perfume is available for one lucky reader! Please let me know in the comments what you like or not about Lutens and sandalwood perfumes in general. Draw is open till Friday 27th midnight internationally. Draw is now closed, thanks everyone for participating.

Related reading on Perfume Shrine: Serge Lutens perfume reviews & news, Sandalwood in Perfumery, Woody Fragrances


pic of statue via thecoincidentaldandy.blogspot.com

L'Artisan Parfumeur Drole de Rose: fragrance review

A little girl watching her mother putting on her make up, getting ready for a night out. Nivea cream scent (with its special bouquet of aromatic essences) and violet-laced, fluffy, retro powder. Soft musky roses floating on a cream bowl. Pink satin pointes with long silken ribbons ... This could be a recipe for tisane-sipping and Fabio-jacketed novels for spinsters off to bed at eight in their pink liseuses; it ticks all the predictable "romantic roses" boxes. But it's not. Drôle de Rose by L'Artisan Parfumeur manages to bypass the staid for the cheerful and the delicate and to render old new again. You just need a bit of an edge to turn this into the playful fragrance it really is and not into something from your grandmother's vanity.

Sweet Smell of Cosmetics
Comparable to the retro nuances of Lipstick Rose (Frederic Malle), whereas in the latter the overt sweetness and lusciousness can upset a sensitive stomach ~such is the speckled rouge approach~ in Drôle de Rose everything is painted like a light stain. Plus the L'Artisan came many years before, in 1996, pre-emptying a niche trend by far. Perfumer Olivia Giacobetti was remembering the formative images of her childhood and the scent of makeup plays hugely in such scenarios. The combination of rose & violet has become a classic in recreating this effect, since most lipsticks were typically further aromatized with these essences to render the wax's smell less obtrusive.

I call these "mock makeup perfumes", fragrances evocative of cosmetics, putting me in a made-up mood before even hitting the top of the By Terry trousse de makeup, which is something one can appreciate when too bored to do one's face. Out of these scents, some go for the pancake-makeup glamour of the 1940s, thicker and lusher, Technicolor; Lipstick Rose as well as Broadway Nite (Bond No.9) opt for that effect, retro glamorous pin-up. Others go for transparency and a super-soft, kittenish hint of fluffy ivory fur with a hint of violet pastilles; to that category I put Meteorites by Guerlain, Love,Chloe (parfums Chloe) and indeed Drôle de Rose.  Giacobetti's sleight of hand plays hugely into giving this L'Artisan perfume an elegantly retro air without becoming stuffy, too sweet (though it is sweet all right) or too old. She's known for her transparent, restrained approach after all. Don't expect dark, menacing secrets and deep, meaningful confessions either. This is out for fun, pure and simple.

Scent Description
Drôle de Rose is L'ArtisanParfumeur's flirty, undeniably pretty, playful starlet, who's really a good and dainty girl through and through. The rather untranslatable name rather means something like "amusing rose", in the vein of "witty". The softly powdery accord of violets and geranium (which has a rosy scent) is given a greener, fluffier tinge via the magic of star anise. The classic "lipstick scent accord" forms the core of the fragrance; made up, lips stained rosy, elegantly ladylike, sweetly appealing. The real pull however is how the flowers are given a honeyed approach, with a non indolic and yet non soapy orange blossom water, as if one is sprinkling macaroons; a powdery feel with the trickery of irones (iris); and last but not least how the musky drydown sticks around more (but doesn't project too much) than what one would initially expect when given enough heat on skin and in the atmosphere. Contrasted with the camphoraceous, woody darkness of Voleur de Roses (based on the murky rose and patchouli), one can see how the latter is meant for autumn and rainy weather, while Drôle de Rose really blooms in late spring and summer. 

Even though one would be tempted to reference Paris by Yves Saint Laurent in this review, I feel that the intricate and powerful, gleaming approach in that rose-violet combo is miles removed from anything else and ultimately is its own thing: Really, I wouldn't expect necessarily loving both that and the greener, lighter, less sparkling Drôle de Rose...If you want something similar, rather try Emilie by Fragonard.

Notes for L'Artisan Parfumeur Drole de Rose: rose, star anise, orange blossom, white iris, violet, almond, honey, leather

pic of a young Liz Taylor via chocolate-memoirs.blogspot.com

Maria Candida Gentile Hanbury: fragrance review

The mouillettes by Maria Candida Gentile have been lying on my desk for several weeks now, aromatizing the air with their delicious mélange, making me nostalgise about the mystical splendor of wintertime Venice. They all speak in mellifluous voices that you really want to follow into the echoing cobblestone alleyways, over the silent canals. Hanbury, arguably the most immediately feminine among the niche line, presented with no sex barriers, exudes the uniques of Calycanthus praecox, one of the few flowers in blossom during winter time in the North of Italy. (Indeed its other name Chimonanthus literally means "winter flower" in Greek)

Honeyed, rich, with an intimacy that is reminiscent of early childhood games discovering one's sensuality, due to mimosa's sweet muskiness, it nevertheless stands a little apart from both other calycanthus fragrances (Santa Maria Novella, Acca Kappa) or cassie ones (Une Fleur de Cassie, Farnesiana). Hanbury is its own thing, a staggering vista of a Mediterranean garden; sweetly citrusy on top, lushly floral and nectarous in the heart, wonderfully understated and elegant in its base.

The name of the fragrance derives from The Hanbury Villa in the northern Italy city of Ventimiglia, which lies by the blue sea that has seen pirates and sailors crossing it for millenia. As if it smiled through it all, its garden grows beautiful mimosas that scatter the landscape with yellow pop-pops of joy at the drawing of each winter into spring. The charming Dorothy Hanbury still gathers the flowers for precious essences production.

Signora Gentile uses a very high ratio of natural essences as a perfumer, no doubt thanks to her Grasse training which coaxes perfumers into appreciating the palette of superb materials produced there. These are vibrant, quality materials which bring on what the human nose can only recognize as richness, opulence, lushness and this is evident in her whole line, from the balmy woody amber of Sideris, to the spicy decadent rose of Cinabre all the way to the light-hearted vagabond heart with leathery nuances of Barry Linton, inspired by Thakeray's character. These fragrances shimmer and present rounded, masterful portraits, as if lighted from within.

The intensely femme blend of Hanbury, poised on mimosa and calycanthus, is taking honeyed facets, with a sprinkling of sweet hesperidic top notes and a tiny caramelic note, softly balsamic, kept in check by the deliriously happy, clean essence of neroli. Hanbury keeps the floral element into a lightly musky sostenuto, which persists for a very long time on the skin; almost as long as a Med garden is in bloom.

Notes for Maria Candida Gentile Hanbury:
top: lime, bitter orange and orange
middle: mimosa and white honey
base: musk and benzoin

M.C.G. besides her fine fragrances sold at her online shop is the creator of some really exclusive and rare fragrances. Among them the Pinede des Princes for princess Caroline of Monaco; the La Posta Vecchia signature fragrance for one of the oldest and most acclaimed hotels in Italy; Satine, a custom blend for the yacht of Tarak Ben Ammar (first president of free Tunisia) and a custom fragrance for the Eco del Mare resort.

pic via hortusitalicus.blogspot.com

Elie Saab Le Parfum: fragrance review

It's hard to pronounce judgement on something that intrisically draws you in, yet you find that it repeats motifs known from a previous incarnation losing points for originality in the process.  
Elie Saab Le Parfum, though no match for the glorious haute-couture gowns that are the stuff of dreams, is nevertheless a very alluring, beautiful floral with honeyed notes, standing proudly in the mainstream market, intending not to leave anyone displeased. The fact that acclaimed perfumer Francis Kurkdjian pulls another well-known trick from his elegant sleeve is of secondary importance for our purposes, questioning structure and innovation vs appeal and end result as we are; consumers go for the latter, critics for the former.

Francis Kurkdjian places a small facet of his beloved zafting, retro roses (Rose Barbare, Lady Vengeance, Enlevement au Serail, Ferre Rose) in a composition that is all about the white flowers: jasmine and in a more abstract, fleeting way orange blossom (similar to that reserved for Fleur du Mâle, Narciso for Her ). Smelling Elie Saab Le Parfum in the middle of winter is like a ray of longed for sunshine, summer evening romance and late afternoon trysts spent on white linen sheets on the hush in rooms bursting with flower bouquets.
It's elegant, lush, quite sweet after the initial orange blossom/neroli "cologne" top note dissipates (and sweeter on skin than on clothes or blotter) with a posh impression that radiates for miles with the discernible headiness of jasmine; a not really indolic jasmine, nor particularly candied, but lush, creamy and sensual all the same. Elie Saab is a fragrance to be noticed and to be noticed in, smelling expensive, especially for a mainstream release, which also lasts quite well. The woodiness is mingled as an austere, cleaned up layer that lingers on skin similarly to woody floral musks fragrances (Narciso and its ilk; the clean patchouli, non powdery rose & honeyed warmth accord is repeated down pat).
Kurkdjian takes segments out of his collective opus and re-arranges it like a talented maestro playing a biz potpouri of his greatest hits. Can't blame him; it works.

The first fragrance from the Lebanese haute couture designer is simply called Le Parfum and the composition allegedly took 279 trial versions, resulting in a very femme fragrance, very floral, lightly woody. Those who like Marc Jacobs Blush in theory for the modern take on white flowers, but always wanted more oomph out of it, might find here their ideal rendition. Those who love the lushness yet contemporary feel of Kurkdjian's own label Absolue pour le Soir but wince at the price tag, could find in Elie Saab a more budget-friendly choice. Last but not least, those who lamented the demise of perhaps the single worthwhile Armani perfume, Sensi, are advised to seek out Le Parfum as something in the same ballpark; immediately appealing, non fussy, instant prettifier.

Men are almost certain to find this too feminine for their tastes, though the adventurous can always try.

Notes for Elie Saab Le Parfum: orange blossom, jasmine (including Grandiflorum and Sambac), cedar, patchouli and rose honey accord.

The simple glass bottle, heavy and pleasingly solid, was designed by Syvie de France. The campaign features the famous model Anja Rubik. Le Parfum is available in 30ml/1oz, 50ml/1.7oz and 90ml/3oz of  Eau de Parfum concentration with ancilary products to match (perfumed deodorant, body lotion, body cream and shower gel). Available at major department stores.

Painting Spring by Greek painter Georgios Jacobidis.

Roxana Illuminated Perfume: To Bee or not to Bee?

The resounding answer to above question is to Bee, all the more so since bees are a reminder of the endless circle of existence and renewal in nature. Because To Bee is that unusual thing in our days: a holistic fragrance inspired by the perfumer's own apiology experiences. When was the last time you heard that? Vaguely referenced in Moss Breches by Tom Ford, but I doubt very much mr.Ford has ever ventured really close to a bee hive, let alone tended his own pet bees. Yet this is exactly what Roxana has been doing, chronicling her efforts on her journal.

To Bee is emblematic of the warm, musky scent of the hive. Indeed, few animalic scents are naturally available these days, due to ethical concerns on the treatment of animals (see Musk deer) and increasing concerns on the sustainability of those which come from cruelty-free sources (ambergris is truly scarce).
Lusty basenotes have been crafted into a series of accords with spice and clover. The result is a delicious inviting aroma at once sweetly impassioned and steadfast.



Smelling To Bee I find myself lulled into a childhood reverie of sipping honey-laced smoky tea in the evenings, on the cusp of summer entering into autumn, when the gardens were getting duskier and duskier by the day and the approaching chill of the night made its appearence like an owl fluffing its feathers upon awakening. The dark colour of the liquid in To Bee somehow cements this impression; boozy, nuanced sweetness creeps underneath the smoky muskiness (coming from mimosa absolute, an intimate and at the same time staggeringly beautiful aroma) creating a mysterious, resinous trail which is not entirely about honey, but so much more. Those who are averse to plainly sweet, foody fragrances will find a nuanced scent to transition them into the harvest delights of autumn.

The synergy for the perfume is made with: essential oils, c02 extracts and absolutes (Resins, Wood, Spice, Mimosa, Sweet Clover Absolute and Beeswax Absolute) with many of the perfumer's own unique accords in a base of tinctured and infused honey comb from local bee rescues in Los Angeles.The best surprise is probably that unlike many other natural perfumes, this one, thanks to the resinous basenotes and the beeswax, lasts quite well.

To Bee is available both as a liquid and solid perfume. Find samples, perfume lockets, compacts and flacons at Roxana's E-shop


imagery ©RoxanaVilla, used by permission
In the interests of disclosure, a sample was sent directly from the perfumer.

Tauer Perfumes Zeta: fragrance review & draw

Andy Tauer, enfant gaté of the niche universe, and deservingly so, excells in three things in his fragrant sonatas: hesperidia, rose and resinous, hazy vapors smelling of earth and dust. Getting two out of three in his upcoming fragrance Zeta isn't half bad. After all, how could a letter named after the Greek alphabet be bad in my world? In fact Zeta hints at the beloved honeyed Tauerade (the base that permeates most of Andy's perfumes) and will therefore appeal even to those who are not on a first-name basis with either hesperidia or roses. But even non-fans should give at least a cursory sniff to Zeta because it's truly very appealing, an ode to summer, an elegy of sensuous pleasures.

Tauer wrote a haiku to preface the fragrance:
"Linden shade in June
Sweet rose petals and the light
of Syracusa"

Because of this Italian reference and of the Greek letter in the name, I like to evoke Grecani music in my mind: that is songs of the Griko minority (Italians of Greek extraction, going back to the 8th century BC when the island of Sicily and Southern Italy were colonised), a mix of the two Mediterranean languages, κατωϊταλιώτικα, rolling on the tongue with their richness of vowels. So does the perfume, bathed in the warm light reflected on ochre and sienna stucco walls...

Zeta may come as a surprise to those reading that it's built on citrus notes (bergamot, lemon and mandarin), as it is above all s-o-f-t. Not a sharp, pinching, screechy note in sight, no sourness either, a concern sometimes with fragrance including roses. After all, Andy explored the more high-pitched notes in Un Carillon pour in Ange, where he mollified lily of the valley into submission, exhaling its best with a touch of melancholy. Zeta on the contrary is a muted, soft, melding fragrance, tender like cats paws and happy like producing a smile on a newborn's face.

The linden blossom extract is a CO2 product, ensuring a high quality essence. The fragrance is almost flavoured by the linden, reminiscing me of edible linden or rose honey I used to buy when galivanting on the slopes of Zakinthos island in the Ionian Sea, rather than merely the delightful blossoms on the tree. The balance between sweet and citric is beautifully played: Zeta keeps it steady and nice without veering into sugary. It also doesn't produce any pee notes in my skin, as some honeyed fragrances are accused to, sometimes.

The plushness of the rose essence here exhibits both aspects of the natural flower: the citrusy fruitiness nuance of a mandarin compote, but also a greener nuance, closer to neroli or geranium. Rose by its nature comprises hundreds of molecules in its essence, presenting such diverging facets as leomngrass, artichoke or lychee. Flanked by orange blossom absolute, the lushness is self-evident: The honeyed note of the latter invests the former in a bath of light; like opening the French windows on a bright summer afternoon and letting the sunshine come make love to you like a Mediterranean lover.
The fragrance also includes notes of ylang-ylang (subtle, not all-out-tropical) and the all inviting base of orris, sandalwood and vanilla: Almost a blatant come hither! But still, the mood is happy and tender, never poseur. If you have sampled his Une Rose Chyprée or Cologne du Maghreb, you know what I'm talking about. The embrace is billowy-silky, lightly musky, somewhat dusty and sweetly milky, full of expensive raw materials: Zeta not only feels natural, it feels luxurious and it surely must be in formula to compound terms. This is something that cannot always be said for fragrances in current production and for that reason you should definitely sample it while current batches last; next year might bring changes to the raw materials that might slightly shift it.
Colour me impressed.

I have 3 deluxe sample sprayers to send to lucky winners. State in the comments what impresses you about Tauer's perfumes or what does not and what you'd like to see in his next fragrance.

Notes for Tauer Perfumes Zeta: lemon, bergamot, sweet orange, ylang, orange blossom absolute, neroli, linden blossom, rose, orris, sandalwood and vanilla.



Zeta will be available in mid-April 2011. Zeta forms part of the "Collectibles": low volume perfumery, limited by the availability of raw materials that may change from year to year, but not limited edition.
This concept allows Andy to create and present perfumes that he otherwise could not. The Collectibles will be housed in the classic pentagonal 50ml bottle but in green glass with a silver label. More info soon on Tauer Perfumes.

Picture of Sicilian paysage via Ezu/flickr (some rights reserved)
Disclosure: I was sent the sample vials by the manufacturer.

Mystery of Musk Project: Kickstarting with Kewdra by Anya's Garden

The Mystery of Musk began as an innovative project in which natural perfumers tried to render a viable, sustainable animalic musk through non-animal sources. As we had announced, the time has come and now we're reaping the benefits of that effort. Samples have flown across the globe, mixing the arcane with the imaginative and the puzzling, challenging us into coming up with the right words to do them justice. Expect to see posts tackling these new perfumes and a giveaway of a whole bottle of them tomorrow. So check up daily for news and updates!

As homage to the instigator of the project and the president of the Natural Perfumers' Guild, I decided to kickstart with Anya McCoy, no stranger to these pages, whom most of you know from her fragrance line Anya's Garden. Literally, as she grows all sort of interesting and lush things in her Miami Shores garden, things that would take your breath away.
Her entry? Kewdra, a “modern Indian-style musk perfume”, inspired by Alobar’s Hindu beloved, the highly-fragrant Kudra, as featured in Tom Robbins’ famous novel Jitterbug Perfume. Anya introduced it thus: Kudra surely loved the Kewda flower of her native India and would have blended it as a masala formula that spread the gardenia and boronia flowers in a seamless heart that beats over the Kama-Sutra evocative "smell of your lover's skin" base notes.

Natural perfumes create their own web of intricacy, their drawbacks just as a many as their advantages, the challenge lying into making the materials pliable and tenacious enough to conform to classic perfumery needs. Pandanus has been already used in her unique Fairchild while an animalic note from the most improbable source (tincture of a real living rutting billie goat's hair) was explored in Pan. So you could say that Anya knows more than a few things about how to construct a complex animalic.
Pandanus flower- aka Kewda or Kewra- is the star performer in the new fragrance, a diva-esque scent which reminds me of an ample-blossomed lady spilling out of her tube top. I knew Pandanus flower from Indian chutneys which customarily accompany meat dishes, where its honeyed facets reveal themselves like liqueur; I also knew boronia from my trip to Australia, where the magical smell permeates the air when in season.
Then of course there is also beeswax in there, an exalted animalic note produced through a gentle technique involving bees' complex constructions without harming the animals.

In Kewdra pandanus makes its entrance all a-bust, proud, heavy, rich. But the effect dissipates soon, leaving a mingle of flower essences (Anya used a rural Chinese 5-petal gardenia which I can only assume is supremely costly) and natural sources of musk (such as angelica root and ambrette seed). These blend into a sweet, smooth vibe which licks the skin the way an Indian heroine in the Kama Sutra would.

Getting into the process of Kewdra requires a little patience but once you're there, the drydown cannot but appeal. Its sweet, intimate aspect evokes the scent of honey dribbled on skin. I am reminded of Baroness Moura Budberg, a Russian aristocrat who allegedly became a Soviet spy. Enigmatic to the end, she famously led an affair with the British spy R. H. Bruce Lockhart during the Revolution and later became the lover of both Maxim Gorky and H. G. Wells. Now Wells wasn't a pretty man, not attractive in any visual way. Moura’s own explanation for the unlikely liaison was that the attraction was sexual, even as she refused to marry him or remain faithful - "Wells’s skin", she said, "smelled of honey"...

Kewdra will be available at Anya's Garden e-boutique shortly and the 10ml bottle depicted will be given away by the Non Blonde soon!
Participating Sites on The Mystery of Musk Project:
Yahoo Natural Perfumery group
I Smell Therefore I Am – Abigail Levin
Perfume Shrine – Elena Vosnaki
The Non Blonde – Gaia Fishler
Indie Perfumes – Lucy Raubertas
Bitter Grace Notes – Maria Browning
CaFleureBon Michelyn Camen, Mark Behnke, Ida Meister, Skye Miller, Marlene Goldsmith
Olfactarama – Pat Borow
First Nerve – Avery Gilbert
Olfactory Rescue Service – Ross Urrere
Grain de Musc – Denyse Beaulieu
Basenotes



Painting Mother India by Maqbool Fida Hussain via razarumi.com

Guerlain Aqua Allegoria Bouquet No.1: fragrance review & giveaway

What do you get when you cross-polinate a popular feminine theme from the early 90s with the desire to break away from the simplistic fruitiness of the latest Aqua Allegoria fragrances? You get Guerlain's Bouquet Numéro 1!

Guerlain Aqua Allegoria Bouquet Numéro 1 was created by Thierry Wasser comprising notes of bergamot, freshly cut green grass, white flowers, delicate fruity notes, peach and jasmine. The fragrance arrives in a newly designed flacon with golden honeycomb, a bulby stopper with seperate cap (former Aqua Allegoria scents had no cap on the incoroporated bulbous sprayer) and a golden label, packed in an outer carton decorated with a pink bee, as you can see from the photographs I took of Bouquet No.1. [click to enlarge]. It really does look luxurious and pretty, doesn't it? Even though I personally preferred the more impressionistic outer cartons of yore.

According to the official blurb pains were taken to link it to the linage of the company: The name itself reflects Guerlain’s fragrance heritage, as it references the compositions of Pierre-François-Pascal Guerlain, founder of Guerlain, and his heir Jacques, namely: Bouquet du Roi d’Angleterre, Bouquet du Jardin du Roi, Bouquet de l’Impératrice, Bouquet Napoléon, Bouquet Duchesse, Bouquet de Paris and Bouquet de Faune. Personally I am not so sure the interweaving of quite so much history in what is definitely a modern juice is really helping either group of potential buyers: hard-core traditionalists or hip modernists. It seems poised in between, with a nod to the 90s (read further on) but not much beyond that to justify historical references that far back. It must be terribly difficult to reconcile the two, we've said it before.


Guerlain's Bouquet Numéro 1 reminds me of both a less sugary or dense 90s Trésor and of Estée Lauder's Pure White Linen Pink Coral from last spring minus the powdery aldehydes. Add the intense peachiness of MDCI Pêche Cardinal and you're almost there! (The same aromachemical as the latter ~which I hypothesized is Decanoic acid 5-hydroxy-lactone~ is used in this composition for the peach note). The introduction on a sharpish note of citrus plus green is meant to be refreshing. Almost immediately, the core chord of peach plus rose is palpable; that velvety, tender, very feminine lactonic vibe which was so obiquitous in the early 1990s through the bombastic popularity of ~mostly synthetic anyway~ Trésor and the products that followed in its zaftig steps. Today, when that theme has been exhausted in commercialised deodorants, body creams, even fabric softeners, it seems a little passé. Enter the bolstering of the peachiness in Bouquet Numéro 1 to render a contemporary fruity note plus ever popular white flowers deprived of their more conniving Gloria Swanson proclivities or animalistic meowing in heat.


They mention that "Guerlain in-house Perfumer Thierry Wasser has chosen to lighten the generous accents of jasmine and rose in the heart of the fragrance. Jasmine offers its light petals, and their lingering scent. Mirroring this emblematic ingredient, rose blend magnifies the heart. At the very core of the fragrance, rose epitomizes femininity. Guerlain uses the rarest essential oils of 'May rose' with a hint of honey for sensuality and 'Damask rose' for fresher and more spicy smell. These two emblematic ingredients optimize the signature of Guerlain's Bouquet n°1." Even though jasmine is touted as a core ingredient, there are no decaying indoles, or nighttime lushness; what I perceive is more of an abstract orange blossom plus a wink of honeyed lilac pollen which gives a little of an effet lessivière, polished though, while the rose, yes, it's discernible all right. The bouquet is therefore a fantasy one, much like the gardenia in the lovely Cruel Gardénia is a the idea of a flower on the drawing board seen through a camera lucida: what you see is assuredly not what you smell. Not that it matters of course! This concept of transparency and abstraction has been utilised also in their other Aqua Allegoria launch this spring, the more mainstream Flora Sudséa Nymphéa. It leaves me wondering how a perfumer of the Transparency School, like Bertrand Duchaufour or Jean Claude Ellena, would go about this kind of concept, yet I fully understand that Guerlain cannot deviate from the curvaceous path they have paved on for centuries.

The scent remains through its base notes a trail of sweet juicy peach and white musks, clean throughout. A gentle fragrance cloud rounded up at last with a delicate hint of almond aroma. The formula is more tenacious on clothes than on my skin where it retains the squeaky clean floralcy better and longer and I can report it doesn't stain. Certainly not "me" in any "cushions of white flowers thrown in a mad sexy war between lovers", but I'm at least happy it signals a deviation from the route of the last few (catastrophic in my humble opinion) Aqua Allegorias.

Aqua Allegoria Bouquet Numéro 1 is Guerlain's first global travel retail exclusive fragrance and available in 75ml of Eau de Toilette.

A sample of Guerlain Bouquet No.1 will be handed out to a lucky reader, randomly picked from the comments. Draw is now closed, thanks!

The bottle was purchased by me. All Guerlain photos taken & copyrighted by Elena Vosnaki.

Perfumery Material: Honeyed Scents of Myth

I recall as a child discovering with excitement the furry exterior of bubble-bees, the kind you don't see any more, the desire to fondle only being overcome by my learned fear of its sting, which would result to a self-sacrificing end for the little critter. No matter that my first sting was only in adult life, when an errant bee was lured by my Fleurs d'Oranger (Serge Lutens), one sunny spring morning. I also recall superstitions upon which bees had to be given the news of a death in the family, and even fed a piece of the sweets and wine of the funeral meal, or they would perish as well. In my apis-loving culture the use of honey, royal jelly, bee pollen and beeswax (cystomarily used in orthodox candles for mass) has always been seen as a survival of a sacred, almost magical act which connects man and woman to the pagan nurturance and divine blessings of mother Nature. It is no coincidence that Greek cuisine makes ample and delicious use of some of the finest varieties of honey for many of its aromatic dishes. Or that babies and small children are still nursed on milk and honey in this country, recalling the nursing of baby Zeus by Melisseus ("bee-man"), father of the nymphs Adrasteia and Ide and the leader of the nine Kuretes of Crete, chthonic daimones of Mount Ida, who clashed their spears and shields to drown out the wails of infant Zeus, hidden from his cannibal father Cronus.

The lore of bees and honey harkens back to ancient civilisations who cultivated the arid, unforgiving soils of the Mediterranean and prized the industrious insects for their rich products and their amazing navigation skills (allegedly via tiny crystals naturally embedded in their brain) which made them easily domesticized. From freemason to wiccan, bees and honey appear frequently ever since antiquity as references to a society that is more tightly ordained than ours and an example of how nature and the eternal female finds a way for everything: even the promiscuity of the Queen Bee is a guarantee of safety and health of the entire hive, according to biologists! The survival of the bee is impressive, much like they themselves are considered a link between this world and the underworld. Mycenean "tholos"-style tombs are shaped to look like a beehive, while Melissa is nothing more than the Greek name for...bee (Μέλισσα), while Deborah is also linked to ancient bee priestesses.

My reprisal of these themes was ingeniously suggested by Roxana of Illuminated Perfume and evolved into this article, as well as a series of other posts in participating blogs (linked at the bottom, don't forget to visit!)

• Mythological Origins of the Bee Symbolism:

Although bees are related to the cult of Aphrodite (beehives are hexagonal, the sacred shape for Venus) their symbolic origin goes back to pre-Classical cults: The pre-Hellenic Aegean bee goddesses stood for the dominance of the female and the Minoan cult of the Goddess reflects this, if the small figurines, the jewels and the wasp-waists of the women on murals are any indication. A series of bee embossed gold plaques recovered at Camiros in Rhodes, Greece, dating from the archaic period in the 7th century BC reflects far older deities. Fermented honey, thought a gift of the Goddess, preceded the knowledge of wine in Aegean culture as well as in many European civilizations.
The famous golden Minoan "Bee Pendant" depicted on the left is technically immaculate and presents great merit from a conceptual viewpoint. Discovered at Chrisolakos, the burial ground outside the palace of Malia in Crete, it is now surrounded by other sacred objects such as ceremonial Labyrns (giant double axes) and beautiful gold rings and "double axe" and bee jewellery at the Heraklion museum in Crete, Greece. More powerfully, the bee stood as the symbol of Πότνια, "Mistress" or "Pure Mother Bee" according to Minoans and Myceneans. Her priestesses were called "Melissa", same as with worshippers of rural goddesses Artemis and Demeter.
The Delphic oracle was also referred to "the Delphic bee" (Μέλισσα), long after Apollo had usurped the ancient oracle and shrine, in the hymns by Pindar. The Homeric Hymn to Apollo mentions that Apollo's own gift of prophecy first came to him from three bee maidens, usually identified with the Thriae, pre-Hellenic Minoan bee goddesses!

Other peoples also proliferated bee motifs and lore: The Mayans had the Ah-Muzen-Cab (the Bee God), designating honey-producing cities (who prized honey as food of the gods). The Kalahari Desert's San people ascribe the Creation of man to bees: A bee carried a mantis across a river, but when exhausted it left the mantis on a floating flower, simultaneously planting a seed in the mantis's body before it died. From that seed grew the first man. The Egyptians believed bees to grow from the tears of the sun god Ra when they fell on the desert sand (much like the foam of the sea was considered by the Greeks to be the sperm of the cut genitalia of Cronus from which Aphrodite emerged). The bowstring of the Hindu love god Kamadeva is made of honeybees and Vishnu is often depicted as a blue bee.

• Honey varieties: a world of textured scents

Endless varieties of honey exist according to the raw materials the bees have been harvesting to produce it and the rich aroma of each one is testament to the wonders of nature. From the more unusual, such as the almost camphoraceous honey from eucalyptus and manuka trees from Australia, to the spicy, raw bouquet of buckewheat honey through the mild and popular one from clover, one marvels at the spectrum. Ambery-dark heather honey is full of the wildlife pungent aroma, while thyme honey with its perfectly balanced, savoury taste and herbal aroma is prized among the very best. Pine and fir trees' honey is very pleasantly a tad bitter with resinous nuances, as befits the source. Honey produced by bees harvesting acacia blossoms is especially worthy of mention: sweet like the yellow pom-poms that adorn the trees, its high fructose, low sucrose content presents some advantages concerning diabetic consumption as well as better storage capacity; same with the one from linden, because of its lightly woody olfactive profile which makes it a refined option.

Apart from the amazing flavour, all honeys contain phenolic acids and hydroxymethylfurfural, the levels being highest in thyme honey, which are purported to influence estrogenic activity and cell viability of breast, endometrial and prostate cancer cells. And of course the hydrocaptive and antimicrobal properties of honey make it a supreme addition in skincare and cosmetics, promoting hydration and health of the skin.

• The Bee as an Emblem

Interwined thoughts revert to me as I admire the delicate yet at the same time impressive motif of Napoleonic bees crowning the rims of the exquisite chinaware Les Abeilles by Haviland Parlon, the pattern directly originating from the time of the great dictator. Most people interested in perfume have owned, heard or read of Guerlain "bee bottles" (flacons d'abeilles). These glass or gilded flacons have small Napoleonic bees on relief, wonderfully referencing French royalty and its history, bees being alongside the more traditional royal symbol, the eagle, the emblems of the First and later Second Empire.
Napoléon I had a veritable mania for the industrious insect, which he had made into a symbol of his own reign; even made it into a flag and a cloak, wearing which he was painted by David. Bees long standing symbols for immortality and resurrection, they linked the new dynasty to the very origins of France, more Merovingian than Napoleonic: Golden bees (cicadas, to be exact) were discovered in 1653 in Tournai in the tomb of Childeric I, founder of the Merovingian dynasty (457AD) and father of Clovis. Therefore they are considered the oldest emblem of the sovereigns of France to whom the ambitious leader wanted to be tied to. The bee also presented the advantages of not being symbolically tied to the despised Bourbons nor Christianity.
Another version wants Napoleon moving into the Royal Palace at Tuileries and not wanting to keep the existing drapery with its embroidered fleur-de-lys (the previous French Royal emblem and one which also alludes to Mary, mother of Jesus). Being frugal on spending on new ones, he ordered them instead to be turned upside down, thus offering the world a new symbol: the bee. Lastly, conspiracy theorists might attribute his choice to freemasonry, where the bee stands as a hieroglyphic of the highest order.
Popular references to bees however are much simpler: From the dramatic cone-shaped hairdo of the 1960s known as the "beehive" to the Beehive Bundt cake which would make Martha Stewart proud!

• Honey Notes in Perfumery

Honey notes impart a gourmand quality to fragrances, while the beeswax absolute (Absolue cire d’abeille) harvested from honeycombs of Apis mellifera, grown in France, is used for an ethically-harvested animalic note in scents. This absolute is rare, produced by solvent extraction and due to its surprising thickness does not blend easily in a blend. It can be therefore diluted in alcohol or gently warmed and added to essential oils and allowed to age before being used in a formula. Some suppliers have been also offering a honey absolute instead of beeswax, a lighter and sweeter product.
Phenylacetic acid (otherwise known as α-toluic acid, benzeneacetic acid, alpha tolylic acid, or 2-phenylacetic acid) is perceived as golden and honeyed in minute amounts, urinous in higher concentrations (Kouros, Miel de Bois). Honeysuckle, a flower with natural honeyed nuances traditionally grazed upon by animals (earning it the tag of "goat's vine" in Greek) and sucked clean by small children sometimes, is also imparting sweet, nectarous notes in fragrance similar to the ones that evoke honey. Acacia/Mimosa and aubépine/hawthorn (recreated through the use of p-methoxy benzaldehyde as in Chanel Beige), or some white flowers (orange blossom, jasmine) have a honeyed nuance to their bouquet as well. On the other hand the smooth, decadent scent of honey is especially simpatico in a piquant contrast to the austere formula of a chypre, where it reinforces the other floral notes and mingles with the animal-reminiscent ingredients to give the veil of a hinted sensuality, comparable to a silk bra under a starched shirt.

• Fragrances with Honey Notes (click links for reviews):

Aramis Havana pour elle
Armani Armani Code
Ava Luxe Honey
Ava Luxe Madeline
Avon Mark Instant Vacation Greek Isles
Azarro Orange Tonic
Balenciaga Rumba
Bill Blass Basic Black
Bijan by Bijan
Boucheron Initial
Burberry Weekend for men
Carla Fracci Gisele
Chanel Les Exclusifs Beige (hawthorn/aubepine honey)
Christian Dior Poison
Christian Dior Tendre Poison
Christian Dior Bois d'Argent
Chopard Wish
Coach by Coach
Comme des Garcons Comme des Garcons
Elizabeth Arden Red Door
Estee Lauder Estee super cologne concentree
Estee Lauder Sensuous
Estee Lauder White Linen
Estee Lauder Pure White Linen Light Breeze (hesperidic and light)
Etienne Aigner Private Number
Givenchy Gentleman
Givenchy Ysatis
Gucci by Gucci (the horsebit bottle)
Guerlain L'instant de Guerlain (especially in Eau de Parfum concentration)
Guerlain Rose Barbare
Guy Laroche Clandestine
Isabella Rossellini Daring
Jean Charles Brosseau Ombre Rose L'Original
Jean Louis Scherrer Scherrer 2
John Varvatos John Varvatos for women
Lancome Magie Noire (the most symbolic use of honey notes)
Lancome Tresor Elixir
La Perla La Perla
L'Occitane Eau de Miel/Honey Water (the closest to pure honey)
MAC Naked Honey (reminiscent of linden blossom honey)
MAC Africanimal (peppery, woody honey)
Orlane Fleurs d'Orlane
Paco Rabanne Paco Rabanne pour Homme (sweet fougere)
Prada by Prada
Serge Lutens A la Nuit
Serge Lutens Chergui
Serge Lutens Chypre Rouge
Serge Lutens Fumerie Turque (milk and honey in pipe tobacco)
Serge Lutens Miel de Bois
Sisley Soir de Lune
Shiseido Feminite du Bois
Stella Cadente Miss Me
Thierry Mugler Angel
Thierry Mugler A*men
Tommy Hilfiger True Star Gold
Trussardi Trussardi Uomo
Tom Ford Private Blend Velvet Gardenia
Ungaro Diva
Urban Decay Honey Dust (shimmery body powder that can be licked off)
Valentino Vendetta
Van Cleef & Arpels First
Victoria's Secret So In Love
Yves Saint Laurent Kouros
Several solid fragrances, such as the ones by Roxana Villa, are based on natural beeswax.

Feel free to add more fragrances with honey notes in the comments section!


Please read the following blogs for more on bees and honey:
Roxana Villa atIlluminated Perfume Journal
Trish at Scenthive
Gaia Fishler at The Non Blonde
Beth Schreibman Gehring at www.examiner.com/x-5804-
Donna Hathaway at www.examiner.com/x-4780-


Ref:
Karl Kerenyi, The Gods of the Greeks (1951)
Robert Graves, The Greek Myths, (1955)
Carl A.P. Ruck & Danny Staples, The World of Classical Myth

Bee illustration ©Roxana Villa. Other pics via Basenotes, Wikimedia commons, castlehounddesigns.com