Un Matin d'Orage by Annick Goutal: fragrance review

In Giambattista Basile's charming tale The Murtle from Il Cunto de li Cunti (The Tale of Tales, 1694), a sprig of myrtle is transformed through the liberating love of a prince into a beautiful woman who regenerates even after evil forces tear her to pieces. Almost tasting the thick retro-baroque prose of the author I am contemplating how the essence of the tale is caught in a fragrance which defies the stylistic approach, choosing to place magic and beauty into a zen setting. Un Matin d'Orage, the latest fragrance by Annick Goutal, means "Stormy Morning" and was inspired by a Japanese garden after the rain, evoking the idea of delicate white petals in dew, with discernible notes of gardenia, jasmine sambac and Indonesian champaca.

Isabelle Doyen, resident perfumer for parfums Annick Goutal, is ingeniously re-interpreting both gardenias and ozonic floral fragrances through an approach akin to painting a watercolour in vivid hues which make you momentarily doubt the duo-dimensional reality of thick drawing paper; an oxymoron that is breaking somewhat with both the well-worn-slipper feel we have come to expect of prettified, neoclasical scents of the Goutal portfolio (for the flowing haired Ophelias and the accompanying Mr.Darcys with bohemian fashion sense) and the en masse manner in which white florals are treated from the perfume industry as creamy textured pattiserie notes folded into huge tropical leis. Like I had said when first reporting the news of the upcoming Goutal fragrance: "This conceptually reminds me of both Après l'Ondée by Guerlain (the after-the-shower garden part) and Un Jardin Après la Mousson by Hermès, (the Monsoon storm evocation ) although from the listed notes one would deduce that the limpid bog water and transparent gloom might not be there. Although Annick Goutal already has a fragrance tagged Gardenia Passion in their line, the scent actually emits the ruberry feel of a proper tuberose rather than gardenia, so it's not like they're re-hashing ideas." Indeed the watery aspect is here but with a softer, less stagnant fruity or spicy nuance than the Hermès offering. Nevertheless if Fleur de Liane for L'Artisan Parfumeur, Vanille Galante and Un Jardin Après la Mousson for Hermès and now Un Matin d'Orage are any indication, the Lazarus-resurgence of the aquatic floral is looking like a strong contestant for your attention in the following couple of years at least.

Gardenia is a fascinating blossom, no less so because of its extensive scope of transformative stages: from the slightly bitter budding greeness, the mushroom-like overtones of musty wetness (which nota bene it was Colette who first described as such), into the lush, still fresh flower that has just opened; and from then inevitably seguing into creamy, narcotically sweet and velvety ripeness, into the dying stage of indolic decay when the petals brown and wither...Such a parallel with human growth and decline could not have escaped the attention of perfumers who have been trying to replicate the effects with styrallyl acetate (naturally found in gardenia buds), jasmolactones and at scarce cases with monumentaly expensive gardenia absolutes rendered through experimental enfleurage. Some gardenia perfumes try to be figurative, creating a very realistic olfactory image of gardenia bushes like the ones composed for Yves Rocher (Pur désir de Gardenia), the wondrous hologram of Private Collection Tuberose Gardenia by Lauder or cult-scent Kai. Some don't even try, despite the name, like the suavely musky Cruel Gardénia, traitors to holy causes with variable results. Others go for baroque exagerration which like an angled composition by Caravaggio creates tension through dramatic chiaroscuro and the accentuation of one facet over others, pushed to extremes; example: Tom Ford's Velvet Gardenia. And others still go for an impressionistic approach in which the gardenia becomes an accent piece in a moment suspended ad infinitum, when a coalescence of particular elements creates a dreamy memory ~like gardenias floating on a bowl of water in some postmodern urban appartment in Marc Jacobs eponymous Eau de Parfum, a willowy girl with lank, dark hair picking one up to put behind her ear.

In Un Matin d'Orage that flowing gardenia on the water is prickling and alive, discernible as such, and coming out of the bowl, breathing deeply the steely blue air, under a drizzling mist that showers it with flinty sparks of an impending electrical storm. The tension is provided by a jolting effect of dew-drenched leafy accents reminiscent of green tea and still whitish peach-skin with a slight smokiness and lemony-anisic accents (magnolia, ginger, shiso*) that provide an intriguing contrapunto to the floral smoothness of gardenia, green jasmine vines and champaca. The ozonic cool part feels like a new technique has been short-cirquited into creating what was 15 years ago created through Calone but without Calone*. The flowers are separating into soft billowing layers that overlap, creating a smooth impression of dewy beauty. The jasmine is green and cool between hedione and orange blossom, like the one rendered in Pure Poison. There is no meekness in the gentility, no paleness in the ether of Un Matin d'Orage and the impression subsists for a long time, as if we're left to see a zen garden tingling after the storm. Not for tropical gardenia lovers, but to be explored by modern anchorites.

Notes of Un Matin d'Orage by Annick Goutal:
Sicilian lemon, perilla leaves**, ginger, gardenia, magnolia, jasmine sambac, Indonesian champaca, sandalwood.

The characteristic feminine bottle of the Goutal perfumes gets a pearly white opalesence for Un Matin d'Orage and is issued in both 50ml/1.7oz and 100ml/3.4oz sizes of Eau de Toilette. More widely available in the coming months.

Related reading on Perfumeshrine: Gardenia scents, Jasmine Series, Champaca scents.


*Calone is an aromachemical used in the 1990s to render an ozonic marine note, smelling halfway between a watermelon and a cantaloupe.
**The Perilla note (often referred to as shiso in Japanese cuisine) is interesting in that perilla seeds form an essential part of the seven spices of Japan (originating more than 300 years ago in Kyoto)while green perilla leaves are used for sushi or sashimi. The essential oil steam distilled from the leaves of the perilla plant, consists of a variety of chemical compounds, varying depending on species. The most abundant however (comprising about 50–60% of the oil) is perillaldehyde ~most responsible for the aroma and taste of perilla. (please read about aldehydes here). For reference a fragrance focusing on perilla/shiso is Shiso by Comme des Garcons.

Pic of Un Matin d'Orage bottle copyright ⓒ by Helg/Perfumeshrine
Pic of Japanese Garden by J.Jennings via mobot.org

The Unicorn Spell by Les Nez: fragrance review

In a line full of engrossing and unusual fragrances, The Unicorn Spell , despite the predisposing to overlyricism name, is perhaps the most arrestingly riveting due to both its unusual treatment of the violet note as well as the juxtaposition of shiny, vegetal leafiness with finespun woodiness.

This unconventional path to violet has been recently reprised by Maurice Roucel for Dans Tes Bras for F.Malle, proving that in a market chokeful of violets lately, there is still some room for wiggling one's toes. The Unicorn Spell forms part of the Les Nez (parfums d'auteurs) line, a niche brand from Klingnau, Switzerland founded by perfume lover René Schifferle. The perfumer Isabelle Doyen, who worked on a similar iris-green (absinthe in that case) theme in Duel for Annick Goutal, envisioned a violet on a cold, frosty morning waiting for the sun to warm it up with its first rays: "If by dawn still linger on your skin mixed scents of leaves, frost and violet blooms, and that relentless yearning for stellar sights, you will know that, at night, you felt the milky breath of a unicorn".

The atypical opening of shelling raw harricots verts in The Unicorn Spell is so transportingly vegetal as to make one become confounded and furtively search for the basket of green beans and the knife of the woman who is peeling them away for an alfresco Friday lunch. (Friday because that's the customary day to prepare a non-meaty dish in Med cultures where this dish is very common). This idiosyncracy of knife cutting onto raw legume is bringing spring in the very heart of winter and invites me closer to inspect the slow unfolding of a delicate floral heart. Comprised of violet leaf (rather than the candied tone of Violets de Toulouse, it is closer related to Goutal's La Violette or Verte Violette by L'artisan) and hazy-toned iris as seen through a gauze, the more it stays on the more it gains in violet-ness and loses in iris-ness. The two merge into a piquant middle in which the borders of green and tart are merged into a fey collage. The images which you might superimpose over this unconventional composition by Les Nez are purely individualistic and left to your own imaginings. The spell distends on ethereal woods, subtle and hushed, so as not to risk scaring away the enchanted creatures that the cool night has invoked.

The Unicorn Spell is available as a 50ml/1.7oz Eau de Parfum, directly from the Les Nez website, through Aus Liebe zum Duft or Luckyscent.

Related reading on Perfume Shrine: Les Nez fragrances, Violet scents, Iris: how to build one.

In the interests of disclosure I got sent a carded sample of each fragrance from Les Nez as part of their sample giveaway upon launching Manoumalia.
Photo by Chris Borgman courtesy of his site.

L'antimatiere by Les Nez: fragrance review

In "The Fisherman and his Soul" by Oscar Wilde a fisherman falls in love with a mermaid and eschews everything, even his very soul to go and live with her under the sea. After proposals of wisdom and wealth in order to re-unite with his immortal part fail to entice him back to land, he returns to see the beautiful legs of a dancing girl.

If you have wondered how it would be even possible to make love to a mermaid, then L'antimatière might provide an olfactory accompaniment to the age-old enigma.

"Thou shall not cheat the customer with a misleading headnote", the motto behind the concept, should have been the cardinal rule of perfume making. Alas, to the chagrin of myriads it is not usually so. All too often there is some initial first impression when testing fragrances which sways our best intentions and make up deposit our hard-earned cash for something that will disappoint once we fully test it at home (but it's too late by then!) Les Nez decided to abandon top notes completely for their L'antimatière. This is the reason for the initial shock which might leave you with mouth open, as the fragrance goes from alcohol to seemingly nothing. Yet give it a couple of minutes and it starts to "bloom" in ways unexpected.

L'antimatière means "anti-matter" which "is the extension of the concept of the antiparticle to matter, where antimatter is composed of antiparticles in the same way that normal matter is composed of particles"[...] the apparent asymmetry of matter and antimatter in the visible universe one of the greatest unsolved problems in physics".
In archaeology, we are accustomed to bagging every trace found in an effort to protect remains from cosmic radiation, much like the forensics experts do to protect evidence from physical tampering. I have never really detected any ill-effect caused by cosmic radiation although I have seen plenty due to mishandling, but this is another point for another day. Suffice to our discussion is that L'antimatière acts as anti-matter: It's a game of prestidigitation!

L'antimatière belongs to the Les Nez (parfums d'auteurs) line, a niche brand from Klingnau, Switzerland founded by perfume lover René Schifferle, and was composed in 2006 by Isabelle Doyen, along with the rest of the triptych, Let me Play the Lion and The Unicorn Spell. She presents it thus: "An invisible ink that leaves a trace, foreseen rather than felt, persistent yet whispered, of creased bed linen wandering along your curves".

From the slightly Band-Aid smelling opening to the mineral quality that reminds me of some highly-diluted vetiver varieties, L'antimatière is on the whole the closest thing I have ever smelled to natural ambergris tincture and it shares the sensuous undercurrent that belies the process of formation of that priceless, rare ingredient. Natural ambergris has a wonderful tinge of saltiness, almost brine-y, encompassing elements of skin-like musky tones, and even a subtly sweetish accent. Of all the natural animalic ingredients it is the one which could be worn neat and the only one which can be harvested in a completely ethical (non animal-cruel) way, as whales resurgitate the material in the sea where it floats for years before being deposited on the shores. L'antimatière, although not divulged as such, must surely contain copious amounts of this precious ingredient, as the comparison with the natural is so telling. The unexpected lack of top notes means that it swiftly goes for the memory of times past instead of the flirting stages.

Due to its very nature of subtly caressing, smoothing out, suave character, it might be very discreet to the point of practically undetectable to noses accustomed to stronger commercial perfumes or fans of concentrated "full bodied" fragrances in the old style; and spritzing instead of dabbing is highly recommended anyway. It also tends to have a different nuance according to the spot applied, which I am hypothesizing is its reactioon to the natural warmth of the skin. This element might discourage the majority from splurging on a full bottle, and indeed I am fairly certain that Les Nez issued it as a dare. However, for all that, for anyone who has smelled real ambergris and is appreciative or anyone who hasn't and is curious, this is emninetly sample-worthy!

L'antimatière is available as a 50ml/1.7oz Eau de Toilette, directly from the Les Nez website, through Aus Liebe zum Duft or Luckyscent.

Related reading on Perfume Shrine: Les Nez fragrances, Amber & Ambergris.

In the interests of disclosure I got sent a carded sample of each fragrance from Les Nez as part of their sample giveaway upon launching Manoumalia.

Photo: Bob Carlos Clarke exhibition via 20ltd..

Let me Play the Lion by Les Nez: fragrance review

"Scents of dusty trails, of lightly sweetened ochre, of sun-weathered wood. Of silence swept by mild breezes, of skies open like an endless azure cut oozing signs of the coming storm". Thus is how Isabelle Doyen, perfumer for Les Nez (parfums d'auteurs), a niche brand from Klingnau, Switzerland founded by perfume lover René Schifferle, presents Let me Play the Lion (introduced in 2006).

The playful name is inspired by a phrase appearing in Shakespeare's A Midsummer Night's Dream: "Let me play the lion too: I will roar, that I will do any man's heart good to hear me; I will roar, that I will make the duke say 'Let him roar again, let him roar again" (Act I, Scene 2). And playful indeed is the treatment that Isabelle Doyen, famous for her delicate, graceful watercolours for Annick Goutal, is saving for the composition in question.

Let me play the Lion starts on a spicy, peppery orange warmth, a subdued pomander note pettering out to scents of pure frankincense smoke curling lazily upwards towards a serene sky and of seared woods. If you are familiar with Poivre Piquant or Poivre Samarkande, the spiciness is on the same wavelength. Cedar is prominent among the woods, a touch which should appeal to lovers of Gucci Pour Homme, while the incense is its own recommendation for those belonging to the incense-loving sect. However by no means is this a gothic, dark incense; the note reminds me more of the French curiosity Papier d'Armenie ~little aroma-infused booklets redolent of benzoin which are burnt to make their scent waft~ than the mould-infested crypt. It's sunny and fuzzy. There is also a mossy, dry, almost dusty feeling upon finish, while the overall tone is warm and with an ever so delicate touch of sweetness that makes the composition fit for both sexes. Let me Play the Lion lasted exceedingly well on both my skin and on the blotter with the volume turned down: this lion's roar is vibrating on the lower frequencies!

Let me Play the Lion is available as a 50ml/1.7oz Eau de Toilette, directly from the Les Nez website, through Aus Liebe zum Duft or Luckyscent.

Related reading on Perfume Shrine: Les Nez fragrances, Incense series.

In the interests of disclosure I got sent a carded sample of each fragrance from Les Nez as part of their sample giveaway upon launching Manoumalia.

Art photography Nick Brandt Lion before Storm, via young gallery photo.
Cat photograph © by Helg

Turtle Vetiver Exercise 1 by Les Nez: fragrance review

the Navagio beach on Zakynthos/Zante island in Greece

"In Lebanon, at the border with Israel, there is a turtle sanctuary. It is the result of being a protected area during the civil war. The almost extinct Mediterranean sea turtle was allowed to flourish. This is something good that came out of the war. This is poetry. I have gone through my own corporeal civil war and TURTLE is my sanctuary and celebration".

~Michael H Shamberg

"Outlaw Perfume in Progress" sounds like contraband that is waiting to change hands in some faraway country full of sailors with dirty pea-coats. But in reality it is Turtle Vetiver by Les Nez, perfumer Isabelle Doyen's contribution to the creative network Turtle salon, "an anarchic salon", masterminded by Michael H.Shamberg. The quirky, poetic and catchy name brought me memories of the endangered caretta caretta turtles (the loggerhead turtles) ~one of the oldest species in the world, alive when dinosaurs roamed the planet~ I had seen protected in the sanctuary of Zakynthos (Zante) island in Greece. Something so durable through the fabric of time itself, yet so fragile: The hatchlings have to complete an arduous journey to the sea once they've come out of their sand-buried eggs. Heading towards the brightest light, hopefully what is the moon's reflection on the horizon over the sea, before the hot sun comes up and fries them alive and before sea birds have them for prey. Only few survive, but those few are resilient, proud, swimming tall. But the affairs of man, never too far off the affairs of nature, lie close by on the ShipWreck or Navagio beach, one of the most photographed beaches of Greece, its name coming from the ship which was wrecked in 1983 while carrying smuggled cigarettes.
Turtle Vetiver seems to be a parallel story of surviving hardship, small or bigger personal tragedies and smuggling hope; and on its cragged planes one can feel the emotion of having come up victorious.

Turtle Vetiver Exercise 1 is a hard-core vetiver for true-blue fans of the earthy deliciousness that responds to the name of that miraculously tenacious root and I feel like it became a symbol for the project same as turtles. The rough opening of "dirty and gritty vetiver roots before the soil and sand grains have been rinsed off" as Ayala described it is a prelude to a leitmotif of dark, edgy, earthy treatment of the note; remakably close to the pure essential oil, yet more palatable with a spicy edge and an almost salty undernote. It feathers out slowly, becoming clearer and clearer all the while like mud water shifted through a sieve.
In a way I am envisioning a cross between the nautical, iodine-rich Vetyver of Annick Goutal and the craggy, wet cobblestones of Vetiver Extraordinaire.
If you are wondering whether it might be too hard for you, you might reconsider because it certainly would. But if you want to be surprised by just how many interpretations are possible in this fascinating material, Turtle Vetiver is an intriguing addition.

Isabelle Doyen makes small erratic batches of Turtle Vetiver and plans on changing the formula constantly. Therefore Exercise 1 is simply the version currently in stock at Les Nez, it might change later on. Samples can be ordered from the LesNez website.

Related reading on Perfume Shrine: Vetiver Series, Les Nez fragrances.



Song Ερωτικο/"Erotic", sung by Haris Alexiou, lyrics by Alkis Alkaios, music by Thanos Mikroutsikos. Written in memory of Marxist philosopher Nikos Poulantzas who commited suicide in Paris.

Lyrics translation by helg:

In a pirogue you set off and wander
when the rain gets stronger
In the land of Visigoths you wander
and Hanging Gardens seduce you
but you're sawing your own wings slowly.

Saltiness covered your naked body,
I brought you fresh water from Delphi
You said that your life would be cut in two pieces
and before I had the chance to deny you three times
the key of heavens had got rusty.

The caravan is rushing through the dust
chasing your shadow along
How could a sheet calm the mind,
how could the Mediterranean be tied with rope,
my love, whose name was Antigone.

Which melody of the night has tempted you
and in which galaxy could I find you?
Here is Attica, a grey pit
and I am but a shooting ground
where foreign soldiers train cursing.

Pic of Navagio Beach (the Shipwreck) on Zakynthos/Zante island in Greece by jjbach/flickr. (Beach accesible only by boat, leaving daily from Porto Bromi.) Song originally uploaded by kostasdiefhon on Youtube

Art by Women: an Equal Opportunity Manifestation?

Through the course of history, men have left a more prominent relief on the gauze that seperates present from past deeds. Even the term "history" is arguably problematic, a priori denoting a heightened importance to gender.
Expanding this thought into the realm of art and more specifically perfumery, it is easy to see that the emblematic fragrances of modern perfumery have been mostly conceived and composed by men, with the notable exceptions of pioneers Germaine Cellier (nose behind Vent Vert, Fracas, Bandit and Jolie Madame, among others) or Joséphine Catapano (the true creator of Youth Dew, despite tales to the contrary). Later on of course women took the reins and composed many interesting fragrances. I was inspired to think on those matters for today's post by the very interesting interviews of women perfumers hosted by Osmoz, which brought many facets of le métier into focus.

Before proceeding, however, one has to think about art by women: Is it any different in its structure and message than men's? And more importantly, should it be and why/why not? Is there some substance into the differentiation of feminine vs masculine produced Art?

In my opinion, which I had the chance to find out is also shared by Václav Havel, leader writer of the Velvet Revolution, it should not and should it do it ultimately becomes inferior Art. Because appreciation should focus on the content and not the creator it does not, in my opinion, make a lot of difference whether the artist is a woman or a man. I am personally no more lenient to art created by women and/or for women than I am with the equivalent by men (interestingly, you never see that latter advertised as addressing mainly men, do you?) This might explain why I do not generally read chic lit (the term is mirth-producing), but perhaps this is besides the point.

To revert to our question: Does a fragrance created by a woman reverberate into some subconsious desire and need di femina that is mostly incommunicado to men? Do women perfumers hold the secret to what other women desire in this most effervescent of arts?

Dutch-Canadian Ineke Rühland, founder of the INEKE line, is adamant on that point: "I honestly don’t see gender as being a major influence on my work", seguing to elaborate that the only difference is in her creating process for masculine fragrance ~she envisions how she would like men to smell rather than guessing how they themselves want to smell like. Clara Molloy of Memo fragrances agrees:

"I think it’s quite difficult to assign a gender to fragrances, characters,behaviors…It’s a very cultural thing. When you’re very sensitive, even the weather can influence you. Putting on a fragrance is an infinitely precious, delicate and intimate gesture that implies taking one’s time, letting oneself go, being gentle and languorous. Which can all be considered masculine too… "

On the other hand, Annie Byzantian of Firmenich, the creator of mega-blockbuster Aqua di Gio and co-author of Pleasures and Safari pour Homme, disagrees. To her, in contrast with the afore mentioned creators, being a woman plays a role in interpreting the goal of any given fragrance creation.

Perhaps the common thread running through the fabric of those artists' thinking process when creating is the importance of emotion.

Sarah Horowitz Thran of Creative Scentualisation brings the multi-sensory experience to the table, focusing on the inherent acceptance of sensuality in girls growing up. Indeed little boys are not as encouraged or condoned in their exploration of the sensual world, at least in my experience. I was especially interested by Sarah's comment that this appreciation and inspiration by the natural world has been heightened ever since becoming a mother: this is a true differentiation between women and men and as such it poses its own fascinating little questions.

Isabelle Doyen, resident nose at Annick Goutal and creator of 3 Les Nez perfumes, places highest importance to the creative effort above other things. In contrast to Nathalie Larson (who prefers soft, rounded compositions, often with rosy-woody accord, more traditionally feminine), Isabelle goes for the shorter formulae. They instigate a certain idea in no uncertain terms right from the start and thus she describes this effect as "a little brutal". Of course, anyone familiar with the Annick Goutal line might take this last bit in a less literal sense. Nevertheless I deduce that what Isabelle means is that she strives for a clear, hard-hitting vision that is immediately perceptible without roundabouts and frilly details. Quick to admit her own admiration for colleagues' oeuvre however she mentions the infamous Mousse de Saxe base used in the Caron fragrances by laboratoires Laire, but shuns the sensibility of most men's fougère scents. In this instance we could argue that her feminine disposition is showing through.

One of the most illuminating comments was made by Nathalie Larson, creator of Bulgari Pour Femme, Encre Noir and Perles by Lalique as well as Kate Moss:

"as a woman, some brands’ images suit me better than others"

This is something that has to do with the prevalent objectification of women in many mainstream brands that capitalize on a raw sexuality for the sake of shock-value; but also, I surmise, with the concern about brands projecting images that could be safely emulated by women instead of unrealistic ideals of men-imagined archetypes.


It is also interesting to note that when asked to name some of the fragrances that have made an indelible impression on them and which they would have liked to have created themselves, the choices named are composed by male perfumers. But to round out things, ending on the same note as we began, that might have to do with men gaining recognition more easily than women in the past anyway.

For two interviews with women perfumers on Perfume Shrine click here for Anya McCoy and here for Vero Kern.


I would be very interested to hear your thoughts on those questions posed.

Pics of Isabelle Doyen and Clara Molloy courtesy of Osmoz