Puredistance Divanché: fragrance review

 

Meeting with a new Puredistance fragrance is always a time for pleasure and for introspection. The newer Divanché is said to be inspired by Japanese gardenia, so how could I not be mesmerized into trying it out? 

Although gardenias and white flowers have captured the imagination of the past with classic specimens at the heart of illustrious floral chypres, pear and pineapple are two entirely contemporary fascinations of modern perfumery. In fact a minuscule facet of sulphur unites the two materials, producing a common thread that reflects one another like the two faces of Janus. As a colleague chemist notes, "the pear profile often overlaps with other fruity odours; saturated esters often have apple tones, while unsaturated ones have pineapple and berry tones." 

 Pear especially possesses soft, juicy qualities, a little bit like unctuous sweet treacle, gelatinous and translucent too, and is very popular for a reason. It's succulent without leaning tropical. It first appeared prominently many years ago, in Laura Biagiotti Tempore Donna (1999) and in D&G Feminine (also 1999), but only lately has it been highlighted in recent launches opting for newer chords and newer fruity effects. 

 In DIVANCHÉ pear is very much present in the diffusion of the fragrance, the main protagonist, juxtaposing the light mushroom-like moistness of the gardenia and the hints of lactonic elements hiding in the recesses of the formula (a hint of peach, more than a bit of jasmolactone, a soupçon of fig leaf and milk). It feels ripe and rich, yet fresh and softly caressing, like the wings of an angel or the frisky fur of a long-haired kitten if you're so inclined. 

It also recalls Japanese stationery with its cute factor intact which is probably fitting given the Japanese background for this Puredistance creation. The woods and musks sensualize and round the floral heart. Finally, resinoids lead the fragrance to an unwavering denouement where DIVANCHÉ gains the feeling of a soft whisper over the skin. It is discreet and polished, not intense.

Read my full review on Fragrantica on this link. 

Eau de Lancaster: fragrance review (1997 edition)

art by Antonio Mora via pinterest

Contrary to colognes that take their time to establish the synthetically enhanced citrus notes before sinking into an indelible loop of scrubbed musk, the depths of Eau de Lancaster seem to appear almost immediately under the effervescent affluence of soapy hesperides (no doubt thanks to aldehyde attributed to coriander in the pyramid). Like a lining that's beginning to show at the point of overstretched seams, it hints at what's beneath. 

 The third edition by Lancaster chronologically, which is circulating nowadays in online retailers, circles back and revisited Eau de Lancaster for men from 1977, with the same name and a much more architectural design for the bottle: subtly fluted, curvaceous, beautifully simple and diaphanous, highlighting the light green shade of its juice (the photo below is leaning a bit more blue-ish than green as is in reality). This Eau de Lancaster relaunched in 1997 with yet another different set of notes, but it's really a revisiting of the original theme: a starched white shirt of a scent. 

 The latest edition of the 1997 bottle also circulates as Lancaster Grace in eau de toilette concentration, 125ml / 4.2 fl.oz.size, and this time aimed at women only (though not quite, it's all about the name, really). Definitely an allusion to the princess of Monaco, Grace Kelly, the patron saint of Lancaster, but also not so amiss as a reference to the glorious, magnificent scent of the fragrance itself. A lovely, fresh, silky olfactory landscape that is clean and natural referencing, creating an aura of gentility and class. The truly rich do not draw attention via their fragrance of choice; they let it speak in murmurs. 

Those who like fragrances like Eau de Cartier, Pomelatto Artemisia 67, Eau de Rochas, Clarins Eau Dynamissante and the like, should try this out. 

 Notes by Fragrantica: Bergamot, coriander, basil, lavender, mandarin, palisander rosewood, lily, floral notes, jasmine, peach, oakmoss, amber, vanilla.

Thierry Mugler Alien Goddess: fragrance review

The Thierry Mugler news announcement for Alien Goddess, the latest fragrance in the Alien collection, was met with more eyebrows raised on the choice of Willow Smith, daughter of Hollywood actors Will Smith and Jada Pinkett Smith, than the anticipation for the next chapter in the beste-selling Alien saga by Thierry Mugler. The brand admitted they targeted Generation Z — a younger population yet to meet Mugler as a brand — with their choice. She was asked "to embody this new vision of femininity that is strong, powerful, inclusive, and edgy," as reported by the brand. Nevertheless, smelling the new fragrance and seeing the visuals, I see nothing strong (it's much weaker than usual Mugler fare, which are dynamite), nor powerful, nor edgy.

The expectation of a very impressive fragrance is rather lost on us, although the formula smells OK. I'm sure it will gather compliments; unlike Aura, Mugler's previous pillar launch, which is so divisive that people either love it with a passion or hate its oddly green, sweet tentacles. Alien is also met with opinionated detractors and fervent fans alike. 

The composition based on the ever popular "tropical, sunscreen lotion smelling perfume accord" is built on flowers like tiare gardenia (which contains esters giving a fruity nuance) and possibly a bit of frangipani/plumeria, with the crucial bit being a hint of lactonic perfume notes like coconut (γ-decalactone) or better yet, the effect of coconut milk (Guerlain's Coconut Fizz is spectacular in this one). And this whole notion bears as little relation to Mugler as possible. His Amazons do not sunbathe. They're in the desert of an alien planet.

Mugler's  Alien Goddess is faring better in that tropical department, as it's not at all stifling and stuffy, as some of its category are. It's actually pretty delicate, maybe too delicate, fresh like pineapple slices, and balanced in the sugary department, especially for a representative of Thierry's collection of mega-bombs. I suppose L'Oreal has been somewhat diluting the density, adjusting the standards with the rest of the market aimed at kids brought up on their mothers' fruity-florals during the 2000s.

It's really OK for a tropical composition, with a vanilla embrace that is immersed in clean, creamy musk. Soft really, and very inoffensive — airy, never too much, but in a way this negates the brand ethos. So there you have it: A bit not good in a rather predictable mix. If you awaited Lilith, she's not coming to dinner...

Molinard de Molinard (new edition, 2017): fragrance review

First of all, let me prephrase this review by saying the original vintage edition of Molinard de Molinard from 1979 was a gift of my beloved, who chose it by himself at a rather tender, unpretentious age when the love of scent was visceral and not plied with words that pertain to the perfumery vernacular like it is sprinkled with now. That fragrance therefore marked me in so many ways that it's impossible to bypass this sweet memory when trying to assess the scent itself. Yet the Molinard company revamped the fragrance in recent years, regretfully changing the beautiful Lalique bottle with the dancing nymphs with a rather simpler, although not by any means plain, design; so I felt secure in trying to bring forth my thoughts anew.

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It's still a sprightly green floral, Molinard de Molinard eau de toilette, the way they used to do fruity with a touch of green, instead a good lather of shampoo, back in the olden days. It never comes off as an entirely "clean", entirely lathered sort of scent, but rather something with a bit of a grime from a roll in the garden or the outdoors at any rate, the way Ralph Lauren's 1990 launch of Safari for women also did. The two additionally share a very significant note of marigold in the core of the formula, exuding a ripe apple-like scent, which bathes everything in good humor and diaphanous light.

And then the heart-aching synergy of jasmine and rose are singing in the green octaves of the verdant materials (earthy vetiver, oily and sweet narcissus, bitter galbanum) which come through to whisper that we're dealing with a nymph, a sprite, a creature of the great outdoors and not of the Parisian salon, even if she comes out of a French bottle with a cute ribbon on the neck. And are we are thankful that it's still that picture of how he pictured us in his imagination back then...

Tom Ford Velvet Orchid: fragrance review

Tom Ford is eagerly awaited by fashionistas during New York Fashion Week due to his excellent finger on the pulse, in both sartorial as well as beauty endeavors, coaxing women (and men) out of their comfort zone and augmenting everything to a great big ooomph that's sure to get noticed. Velvet Orchid, a floral-oriental fragrance in a ribbed retro bottle in purple, is one such perfume.

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Tom Ford Velvet Orchid opens itself with bergamot, mandarin, Succan absolute (I knew you'd ask, it's purified rum extract), and honey. At the core of this creation (made of "corporeal floral notes") is Tom Ford's distinctive, “timeless” signature that we have experienced in the original Black Orchid (fragrance review linked), from when first it exploded on counters like Alexis Carrington-Colby did when a minion or two were deemed unsatisfactory: an imaginary accord of black orchid blended with notes of velvet orchid, which gives the perfume its name, with intense Turkish rose oil (discernible as such) and jasmine and a new accord of purple orchid. The latter is a fantasy note that is comprised of aromachemicals that take over the scene and diffuse slowly and lengthily. Long story short, the bittersweet myrrh resin embraces all those sophisticated floral notes and makes them one hell of a floral oriental fragrance!

Like most tom Ford fragrances, Velvet Orchid is not the coy type at all, she wears her knickers on her head and is fine, thank you very much.

There are additional floral notes in Velvet Orchid, if you can believe it, of orange blossom, rose absolute, narcissus, hyacinth and heliotrope. The base is warm due to the rich flavors of Peru balsam, myrrh, labdanum, sandalwood, suede and vanilla.

photo by Matthew Roharik, borrowed via for educational purposes

The luxurious perfume is available in dim purple bottles of classic Tom Ford design in 50 and 100 ml Eau de Parfum concentration. Velvet Orchid was created by Yann Vasnier, Calice Becker, Shyamala Maisondieu and Antoine Maisondieu. Usually that many perfumers in one fragrance composition means the headquarters didn't really know what they were aiming at, but unusually Tom Ford does keep a tight involvement in his namesake brand, despite the ownership by the Lauder Group, so it's not a mess as one might expect; on the contrary, it's rather good and worth sampling for sure. And thankfully not part of the rather more expensive or elusive Tom Ford Private Blend.
Do take note that there is also a variant, called Tom Ford Velvet Orchid Lumière, in a slightly lighter purple bottle, launched in November 2016, as a new edition of the glamorous fragrance Velvet Orchid from 2014 from the collection ruled by the vamp perfume Black Orchid from 2006.

Whereas Velvet Orchid is a floriental with a warm woody base, Velvet Orchid Lumière is a floral - oriental composition with gourmand accents instead.

Estee Lauder Sensuous Noir: fragrance review

This discontinued gem is shining in a deep purple bottle of sumptuous line that would match a wonderful smoky eye that looks so at ease on an autumnal night out. Sensuous Noir takes the good parts of Lauder's Sensuous (that idea of woody notes enhancing the natural scent of the skin) and taking it up a notch, adding patchouli with its dark sweetness interlaced like a shadow on said skin. More voluptuous, more intense, more sensual than the original version of Sensuous, the second version by Estee Lauder - Sensuous Noir includes characteristic wooden tones, an abstract floral hint and soft aromas of cozy oriental balsams that carry the entire composition.

Sensuous Noir has a stronger, more intoxicating and more seductive scent than the prior fragrance by Estee Lauder with half the same name, although the latter is also quite sensuous and silky and worth your time and money.

The top notes include a floral blend of purple rose, jasmine, rose oil, black pepper and spices. The heart focuses on the warm wooden notes, typical for this scent, with the use of the innovative Nature Print technology. The smell of "dissolved wood" in the concept, generated by pine tree and guaiac wood merging, was captured exactly by this technology, and used as a seductive note that was first used as a sensory note and complemented by the innovative Noir cream, lily flowers and patchouli notes. The base notes include benzoin, amber and soft vanilla with an amber overall scent. The final feeling is one of absolute self-confidence!


Please visit Estee Lauder fragrance reviews and news on the PerfumeShrine.com using this link.

Serge Lutens Sarrasins: fragrance review

The beast cradles the jasmine vine in the garden and its salty-dirty stench of its hide, as well as the warmth of its fur, only serve to enhance the character of this not so innocent blossom. Smelling Sarrasins I'm momentarily reminded of horse saddles, India ink (no doubt aided in my allusion to it by the deep purple of the mysterious liquid in the bell jar bottle,) ripe fruit that sweetens the breath like apricot pulp, camphor, everything and the kitchen sink; but it's all an illusion.  

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The jasmine is laced with spice, notes of cardamom, star anise and cinnamon, which all sounds like a natural course for Lutens, wedding the Arabian cuisine condiments & spices to single materials of his liking, like he did with Chypre Rouge and Rousse. But truth be told, spices are only alluded to in Sarrasins, with a pong of sweaty cumin and a cool mantle of cardamom, while jasmine clutches them fiercely.  Essentially, no pun intended, Sarrasins is a big jasmine fragrance, natural essence off-notes of petrol and all, molested against the wall by animalic notes: the salty-dirty pong of civet, the skanky smell of musk, even a tamer musk which silkens out the feline quality of this superb scent.

Always, always, in the best creations by the tiny Frenchman, whom we love to affectionately call "uncle Serge," we're dealing with Beauty and the Beast, to reference that other Frenchman, Jean Cocteau. The beast cradles the jasmine vine in the garden and we dearly hope that small children have reverted to their beds for a nightmare-free nap.

Gucci Bloom Nettare di Fiori (2018): fragrance review

"Intensely sensual and feminine, Gucci Bloom Nettare di Fiori celebrates the intimate and authentic character of a woman. Rose and Osmanthus flower resonate in an enigmatic, woodier blend together with the notes of the original Gucci Bloom." This is what the company says about Gucci Bloom Nettare Di Fiori Eau de Parfum Intense (2018) composed by perfumer Alberto Morillas who developed both the original Gucci Bloom and Gucci Bloom Acqua di Fiori.

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Gucci Bloom Nettare Di Fiori is a sensual and darker interpretation of the original, with additional notes of rose, ginger, osmanthus, and patchouli. Don't take that darker claim too seriously, now, though. Gucci Bloom Nettare di Fiori is admittedly not as airy and sentimental as the lighter interpretations of Acqua di Fiori and Gocce di Fiori (for which you will have to read on to find out what it's about), but it's not really sinister, nor dangerous. The concept remains a modern and feminine patchouli-sprinkled scent of white flowers with a good intersection of a prune-peachy base chord with a salty musky hint, that might have been extracted from an older fragrance, but not quite. The balance leans into the contemporary, with only a hint of retro.

Although both tuberose and patchouli share mentholated facets, and the tuberose in the original Gucci Bloom is certainly mentholated on top, not a blanket statement for all tuberose fragrances in the market, in Nettare di Fiori the effect is mild and subdued. There is no risk of alienating anyone with the suspicion of mothballs emanating from your clothes.

Gucci Bloom Acqua di Fiori (2018): fragrance review

The funny thing with tuberose is that in its complex glory it's a blossom that hides an intensely green facet. Its top note is a mentholated cool blast of frosty air to surprise your sinuses, before the meaty and juicy facets reveal themselves. How could this green element be extended from the original Gucci Bloom into a lighter interpretion?

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Alberto Morillas thought about this and confidently injected a galbanum resin top note which braces without cutting. The slightly fruity and at once ammoniac feel of cassis should round out the green in a sour-sweet note which provides the characteristic freshness in Bloom Acqua di Fiori. The fragrance sweetens after the opening, comfortably retreating into the familiar white floral bouquet of the original.

Gucci Bloom Acqua Di Fiori is therefore a greener interpretation of the original.The perfumer took the original delicately spicy-floral composition of tuberose, jasmine and Chinese honeysuckle (Rangoon creeper), the red-flowered vine that premiered in perfume design, and made it fresher by introducing green accords. The drydown is woody and musky, made to convey warmth and depth. It is said to be an invigorating and radiant, lightly green and floral fragrance of highly concentrated ingredients.

Top notes: galbanum leaf, cassis bud
Heart: tuberose, jasmine, rangoon creeper
Base: sandalwood, musk

Tauer Perfumes L'Air du Desert Marocain: fragrance review

So many of the fragrances inspired by lands steeped in spices and resins are redolent of the souk, of man made territories that ultimately take on a carte postale quality, so prone to the disillusionments of reality when one has been relying on armchair travelling leafing through Traveller and encyclopaedias. L'Air du Desert Marocain is different, because, rather than a man-infested territory, it evokes an expanse of land where the borders of orange-red skies and dry land mingle in the horizon making you feel as if you've glimpsed eternity for a split second.

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It's hard to describe this Andy-Tauer-made marvel in a few words; it's both woody and animalic, floral and ambery oriental, all at once. The trademark ambreine that Tauer uses is very discernible, given the intensity of what feels like natural jasmine, or maybe a euphoric mingling of white flowers that recalls the orange trees which give welcome solace to the Moroccan traveler.

There are fragrances which you spray and go on about your day. This isn't one of them. The torrid complexity of dry heat, arid spice, sweet rosiness and deep, plush resinous notes which recall ancient pharmacopoeia, is capable of clearing a room if you're overzealous with the sprayer. But use it with tempered self-discipline and you can enjoy its luminous depths for days on end, on your skin as well as your clothes.

A single bottle will last you beyond your last will and testament. Very few fragrances can claim to deliver such tremendous value for money.

Elie Saab Le Parfum: fragrance review

Is it rather predictable that when consulted I invariably recommend that a bride smells Le Parfum by Elie Saab when considering fragrances for her wedding day, since beautiful wedding gowns have been designed by Lebanese designer Elie Saab throughout the years? We have also come to associate white florals with weddings, if only because the traditional orange blossoms to adorn the bride's hair are a tried & tested tradition; plus they look and smell magnificent.

brownie points for the observant |pic via

Elie Saab Le Parfum is a glorious orange blossom and jasmine composition (it contains both the south of France grandiflora and the denser Indian sambac variety), which embraces its wearer into a vision of beauty and splendour. It's regal, yet not too mature. It's sweet, thanks to the honeyed nectarous quality of the floral essences, but not vulgar sweet. It's ladylike, sure, but it hints at a velvety sensuality of silky limbs and thick hair brushing the shoulders.

Most importantly its brightness is conductive to the optimism that a wedding, surely the start of what is more essential, a common path in life, a marriage, heralds. And this is what is priceless. The only problem I can see with this fragrant choice is that bridesmaids would be elbowing each other, taking the perfume's name and designer name down for their own future nuptials.

YeYe Parfums Sentiers de Cometes: fragrance review

"As cruel as the typical degenerate Derby winner", the lithe, tall redhead is standing in the centre of the room with her Edwardian silk drapped dress and her fairly modern views, which she airs freely, to wreck havoc with whom she targets.

courtesy of the BBC

Her venomous lines are nevertheless obliterated by her stunning physique and as she dangles her cigarette-holder with the bored air of a person whose existence is oblivious to the Great War around her, you catch yourself having your eyes hooked by  the corners of her full rosy lips in anticipation of her passing her tongue over them to draw a wet line that glistens from across the room. That's Sylvia "pulling the bath strings" and she masters the game.

courtesy of the BBC

Sentiers de Cometes by parfums YeYe is suffusing this scenery and this heroine with its emancipated vampish touch to a T. Its bright opening of vivid citrus followed by the more complicated silkiness of floral essences caressed by tonka beans is a glimpse into an orientalised salon, the kind we don't see anymore unless it belongs to a sinophile.
Not dangerous unless manipulated to be, nor innocent to be sure, Sentiers de Cometes is a fragrance that makes one yearn for the days when you could put a jewelled band on your forehead and some marabou feathers on your shoulder and descend to dinner. I miss that kind of glamour even if I never lived through it. 

The YeYe Parfums brand was founded in 2007, initially focusing on Home Fragrances: Diffusers and Candles and has acquired a loyal following since. The brand's first personal fragrances were introduced in 2015 a trio of artisanal scents. Ryan York, Creative Director & Co-Founder and Ernesto Sanchez Bujanda, In-House Perfumer & Co-Founder are behind the brand.The simple but beautiful bottles featured a wooden cap and a tasselled label.

The Body Shop Indian Night Jasmine: fragrance review

"Another world is not only possible, she is on her way. On a quiet day, I can hear her breathing." This quote by Indian author Arundhati Roy is one of my favorite ones, shedding light where despair has cast its long, oppressing shadow. Scent also works the same way, transforming the mundane or the forsaken into sparkle and comfort. And when that comes with no requests of owning heaps of cash the size of the Koh-i-Noor jewel from Andhra Padesh, rejoice for all involved! One such case is Indian Night Jasmine by The Body Shop, possibly the nicest fragrance in the company's current rotation.

theberry.com via

Jasmine by its very nature is a precious essence to harvest; the delicate flowers need not see the heat of the day, as they emit their strongest scent during the cloistered shadows of the night. They get picked by hand, they wilt and brown easily, emitting their narcotic scent while they die... literally dying in scent. Modern technology has managed to isolate and replicate the sweetest and freshest elements of this natural wonder and to create fragrances that come at a competitive price point.

Indian Night Jasmine by The Body Shop manages to smell smooth, lush and orientalized, befitting the imagery of wild shrubberies growing out of control somewhere in India, the "moonshine in the garden". The air is dewy, warm and heavy with the promise of romance. Eyes kohl-sooted, glimmer under the canopy of fringed lashes; skin sleek with anticipatory sweat. This could be the night.

Serge Lutens A La Nuit: fragrance review and musings

Dedicated to the night and voluptuous, feminine women everywhere, A la Nuit by Serge Lutens is probably the most life-like rendition of night-blooming jasmine in all of perfumery. The narcotic, star-petalled flower hypnotizes all who come into contact with it on a warm summer's evening, when the air is filled with promise of romance and sensual abandon. Heady, sweet, laced with honeyed and resinous notes that weave their own web of seduction, A la Nuit employs several different varieties of jasmine: Moroccan, Egyptian and Indian. Surrendering yourself to its temptation is akin to reaching erotic zenith...

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Jasmine is plentiful in southern Europe and northern Africa from where Lutens was inspired; lush, narcotic, dense with clotted cream at night-time, making the heart ache with its sweetness, fresh and bubble-gum worthy with green dewiness in the mornings. But while we, perfume lovers, like to mock and taunt each other about the fecal reminiscent particulars in it, specifically the combination of moth-balls indole and peachy-creamy lactones, plus many other wonderful and weird chemical additions that talk to our sensitive human hormones, hearing it being invoked by your beloved in an intimate setting can turn into unsettling quickly. How stimulating is the invocation of #2 in the bedroom? Not particularly for most, I'd wager. Let this be a lesson to test this glorious specimen of true jasmine first, before plunging headlong into it.

Created in 2000. Fragrance Family: Floral Oriental 
Perfumer: Chris Sheldrake 
Fragrance Notes A La Nuit by Serge Lutens: jasmine, grenadine, beeswax, musk and benzoin. 

Guerlain Carmen, Le Bolshoi: new fragrance

Guerlain has been making fragrance exclusives honoring the famous Bolshoi ballet for the Russian market for some time now. With three editions under their belt, this year's exclusive is named Carmen, Le Bolshoi and comes in this fabulously provocative bottle in red.

The first fragrance Le Bolshoï appeared in 2011 and was timed to celebrate the reconstruction of a historic building of the Bolshoi Theater. A year later, there was a bottle La Traviata, Le Bolshoï with scarlet cameo. The smoky juice inside commemorated the opera by Giuseppe Verdi with notes of orange, bergamot and petit-grain. In 2014, the Bolshoï Theater performed the hallmark of Russian ballet , Tchaikovsky's"Swan Lake." Black Swan Le Bolshoï was the offering Guerlain created with perfumer Thierry Wasser to celebrate it with their loyal Russian customers.

This season for the 240th Bolshoi Theater jubilee, 240th  world famous "Carmen"by George Bizet is the opus in question. It was first staged in 1875 in Paris and in 2015 celebrates its 140th anniversary. Thierry Wasser created a limited edition fragrance for the Russian market, Carmen Le Bolshoï.

For Carmen,Le Bolshoï the formula includes fragrance notes of jasmine, cedar, citrus, red berries and musk. Bright and bold according to Guerlain as is Carmen. On October 1st  it will appear in TSUM and DLT and on December 1st  in select Guerlain corners. The retail price of Carmen Le Bolshoï is set at 22 000 rubles.

EDIT TO ADD: Recent reportage and testing suggests that Carmen Le Bolshoi is a re-edition of the original Vetiver pour Elle by Jean Paul Gaultier from 2004.

pic & availability info via Vogue.ru

Neela Vermeire Creations Pichola: fragrance review

The impressionistic school of perfumery seldom fails to fall victim of one or two cardinal sins. Either it won't replicate the received impression we, the audience, have of a particular referent (perversely enough there seems to be a collective "idea" of how particular places & things smell like), resulting in  confusion, despite adhering to the definition of the artistic term. Or the clarity of structure will be subordinate to the "harmonic" effects resulting in something that "falls apart on the blotter", as perfumers say. Not so with Pichola, the latest fragrance launch by the cult favorite niche fragrance brand Neela Vermeire Creations, overseen by a true perfumephile, its founder and guiding force, i.e. Neela, and composed by the steady hand of independent perfumer Bertrand Duchaufour.

Rie Rasmussen, Vogue UK December 2005, photographed by Norbert Schroeder via

Pichola was inspired by Lake Pichola in India, since the canon of Neela Vermeire Creations draw inspiration from the peninsula. But fear not, ye armchair traveler of little faith in your abilities of envisioning vast expanses of water with flowing flowers. Much as Pichola draws elements from the impressive scenery it is not a carte postale style of fragrance for Americans in need of issuing a passport. As Carson McCullers put it "We are torn between a nostalgia for the familiar and an urge for the foreign and strange. As often as not, we are homesick most of the places we have never known..."

Pichola is not a travel "selfie". This shape shifter of a fragrance has backbone, finesse and above all the charm that makes a fragrance go beyond the mere pretty into addictive.

It impressed me in that I have tried the scent three times and Pichola performed differently on ALL three occasions, which hasn't really happened before. You can blame it on Rio, I guess, but I did find that the temperature of my skin brought to the surface different elements.  The first time Pichola by Neela Vermeire projected as an intensely white floral with a cleaned up jasmine and orange blossom, plus a budding gardenia note. It gave me a nod of Pure Poison, to be honest, which was impressive since that one is a very loud (albeit beautiful perfume) and not  Bertrand Duchaufour's "style" (who is more subdued and much less obvious).
On the second testing Pichola was much milkier white floral and had a green-husks velvety touch floating about, like coconut and fig leaf (stemone, massoia lactone, something along those two lines) which did remind me of Duchaufour and his masterful translation of earthy tones and woody notes, such as in L'Artisan's Timbuktu. Third time it was distinctly orange blossom and lush, scrumptious but not really indolic tuberose, plus a sandalwood milkiness chased by a huge clean musk note.

This creature purred...and I purred with delight over it.


Fragrance Notes for Neela Vermeire Creations Pichola:
Top Notes
Neroli, Clementine, Bergamot, Cardamom, Cinnamon, Saffron, Juniper, Magnolia
Heart Notes
Orange blossom, Rose, Tuberose, Jasmine sambac, Ylang ylang
Base notes
Haitian vetiver, Benzoin, Sandalwood , Driftwood

Related reading on Perfume Shrine:
Neela Vermeire Fragrance Reviews & News: Trayee, Mohur, Bombay Bling
"Creamy" fragrances: scents of rich clotted cream 
Indolic vs. Non Indolic: White Florals of Passion
The Jasmine Series: Perfumes highlighting the King of Flowers

Hermes Le Jardin de Monsieur Li: new fragrance

It is official. The final chapter in the Jardin fragrance series by the historical house of Hermes is inspired by a garden redolent of in house perfumer Jean Claude Ellena's favorite flower: jasmine. The flower he grew up with (Jean Claude was taken as a child alongside the family, working with the workers, for the dawn picking of the lush white blossoms which smelled halfway between flower and flesh, as he recalls in his Journal d'un Parfumeur/Diary of a Perfumer).

The inclusion of the unusual note of kumquat, a small citrus fruit with a rich scent favored for the preparation of a special liqueur on the island of Corfu, recalls the fruity hesperidic note in Colette 1873 by Histoires de Parfums.

The name, Le Jardin de Monsieur Li, is of course recalling a garden fantasy, as previous editions in the series did: the plate of figs offered in a garden in North Africa as translated into Un Jardin en Mediterannee (2003), the green mango and sycomore trees in Assouan, Egypt, in Un Jardin sur le Nil (2005), the monsoon in Kerala, India in Un Jardin apres la Mousson (2008), and the actual garden atop the Hermes headquarters which provided vegetables for the Dumas family during WWII in Un Jardin sur le Toit (2011).

Of course this is the swan song of Jean Claude Ellena for Hermes as well. He is to be succeeded by Christine Nagel, as we had announced on Perfume Shrine a while ago.

The new Jardin fragrance by Hermes, Le Jardin de Monsieur Li, is set to be available at the flagship Hermes boutique on Madison Avenue (in NYC) in early March 2015.

Serge Lutens La Religieuse: new fragrance

The divide between darkness and light, between sanctity and profanity, between spirituality and carnality, and the overtones of a Catholic upbringing with its clash of good & evil have for long haunted the imagination of the master, mr.Serge Lutens himself. The contrast of white on black is another of the recurring themes in the canon of Lutens perfumes composed by perfumer Christopher Seldrake. (Just remember the furore about the white skin of his imaginary heroine when Serge Noire was luanched).

Jared Kubicki-Alafoto Photo Gallery via

La Religieuse ("the nun") is the latest Lutensian scent opus, a new unisex fragrance launching on January 30th 2015, focusing on the contrast between white jasmine (the flower of carnality and the South), incense (the religious reference par excellence) and the skin-compatible animalic notes of civet and musk. The monastic name isn't that hard to pin down, it being the title of a famous 18th century epistolary novel by Denis Diderot, posthumously published (and itself a reflection of Lettres Portugaises). In it, the fictional nun in question finds the life in the convent insufferable and pleads with the Marquis, a friend of the French author, to deliver her from her vows.
Can the fragrance be a social commentary in our modern age when religion is again exerting a powerful grip on impressionable minds?

The new Lutens perfume, La Religieuse, is part of the export line, encased in the familiar oblong bottles of the house and tinted an ecclesiastical purple.

Uniting only favorite notes of mine and a concept simpatico to the Lutensian universe, if it proves half as wearable as L'Orpheline I'm sold.

Related reading on Perfume Shrine: Serge Lutens fragrance news & reviews

Providence Perfume Co Ivy Tower: fragrance review

"Wow, this smells like…I've never smells anything like this" or "This doesn't smell like Dolce & Gabban's Light Blue. What do you have that smells like what I usually wear?"are a couple of the whispered comments of customers at the brick & mortar store of Providence Perfume Co, at Providence, RI 02903. I have recently written on the Aesthetic Principle which, like the pleasure principle, should, I believe, lead our choices on fragrances in an increasingly rationed world. And thus I find it pertinent that my review of Ivy Tower should follow it. Here is a green floral that is beautiful, delicate, different and missing the "herbal" component of some all naturals, which to echo its perfumer "doesn't smell like Light Blue and I'm OK with that."

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Green fragrances are a difficult bunch to render in all natural essences, mainly because the green-smelling materials fall into two groups which each possesses one stumbling block: the natural elements, such as galbanum resin, are either very hard to dose in a composition of all naturals without overpowering the blend (Chanel No.19 and Jacomo Silences are not  perfumes for wussies!) or else are so subtle that they vanish quickly, such as the cucumber-tea note of mimosa blossom.; the more convincing synthetic materials such as cis-3 hexenol with its cut-grass feeling, Ligustral (snapped leaves) and Lilial with its green lily of the valley aura are of course off grounds for a natural perfumer.

Chanel No.19 Poudre tried to reconcile the green monster with the emerald-hued polished nails with the grassy rolling waif in gauzy whites and it presents a modern "temperate" effort that is valiant, if a bit tamed, for the lovers of the original Chanel icon that inspired it. I don't recall many other contemporary fragrances in the delicate greens genre that truly made it (A Scent by Issey Miyake though quite good never met with the success it deserved, Bvlgari's Omnia Green Jade is sorta too tame for its own good), excluding the niche scene for obvious reasons.

So Charna Ethier exhibits skill in rendering a rustic rained upon scene from somewhere north; like a secluded private garden in York, in North Yorkshire, I had once visited, all rainy soaked paths and ivy climbing on stone-walls retaining the rain drops and reflecting them like giant water bubbles that make your bones chill a bit even in the dead of summer. The fragrance of Ivy Tower like those bubbles takes on shades of green, blue, and gentle lilac, depending on where it hits on a warm, blood-pulsing vein and hovers there for a while in the confluence of watery sprites and drowning Ophelias. Eventually it takes on a more customary jasmine, lilies and woodsy notes path, but the journey up to there is dreamy enough to make a heart melt a bit.

Ivy Tower  (green) is part of a new collection of natural perfume oils by all naturals perfumer Charna Ethier of Providence Perfume Co, whose Samarinda has been reviewed on these pages before. The rest of the collection includes Rose 802 (pink), Orange Blossom Honey (orange), Summer Yuzu(yellow), Sweet Jasmine Brown (blue) and Violet Beauregarde (violet). The oils are color coded, which is supremely practical when sampling. The choice of an oil format (admittedly not one of my strong suits as I usually like the abundance effect that an alcohol based format allows) stems from the customer base: people blending essences at Providence's popular perfume bar, citing a desire for portability and longevity. 

The given notes for Ivy Tower by Providence Perfume Co are: jonquil, mimosa, geranium, jasmine, narcissus, blue tansy, lily, sandalwood. Info and purchase at www.providenceperfume.com

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

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.

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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.