Puredistance Papilio -Spring Awakenings: fragrance review & musings

 Papilio, the latest Puredistance fragrance, almost coaxes a butterfly to sit upon your shoulder: Its realistic depiction of a magnolia tree in bloom, of the fresh, lightly green scent of far off jasmine vines, the hint of greenery, the almost musky suede foil for its precious bottle is unparalleled. Everything about Papilio is lyrical and like a poem's cadenza; everything about it is a work of art.

butterflies by panpan on we heart it via pinterest

What will I ever do when I run out of my small sprayer? I'd be at a loss... Seriously, without the dramatics of a perfume collector who is always contemplating the end of their pleasure measured in missed sprays, like J.Afred Prufrock measures his life in coffee spoons, it's something to savor to the very end.

When Nathalie Feisthauer took on the creation of PUREDISTANCE Papilio, which launched back in 2023, magic happened. Soft citruses, heliotrope, and berry-stained palms of summers spent outdoors came back in the guise of colorful butterflies. Papilio got its name after the founder of PUREDISTANCE twisted the French word for butterfly, papillon. Seemingly entirely floral, but the soft leather and luxurious silky woods in Papilio wrap the memory into a creation irresistible among all floral suede compositions — it feels like being caressed by dewy petals!
 
It's difficult to contemplate just what makes a floral synthesis wonderful, just like it is difficult to render separate the effects felt by the intricate, but seemingly effortless composition of ikebana. Where one thread begins, another completes its course, rendering the final result silky and homogenous, without compromise to expectations for disparate effects, surprises and awe. Papilio caresses with the silky feel of a cool spring morning that raises your skin into goosebumbs just before the sunrays warm it up, the magnolias offered upwards to the sky in full bloom.

It's joyful and contemplative at the same time — a rite of spring, indeed.

Stylistically, it recalls the best days of L'Artisan Parfumeur, when they innovated with delicate compositions that seemingly brought nature on your plate, so to speak. Dewy, cool, green...in the ballpark of Jardins de Bagatelle and Cristalle eau de parfum.

Or maybe it's the idealized effect of nature, all Galatea-like, standing in front of an awe-struck Pygmalion, the tale of antiquity which prompted so many reflections about the relationship between creator and work of art.
The main office and design center of PUREDISTANCE is located in the Netherlands. In a historical building a small creative team — guided by visionary founder Jan Ewoud Vos — designs and refines the artistic world of PUREDISTANCE. All Puredistance products consist of high quality ingredients and components and are assembled by hand with great care, passion and a strong eye for detail. We have often reviewed them with this in mind.

It is also important to note that all PUREDISTANCE fragrances are only available as Pure Perfume / Extrait de parfum in perfume oil concentrations that vary between 25-32%. This is no different. They project moderately, with utter class, eschewing the hyped "beast mode" of the consumer who wants to get noticed, but last long on the skin.

Puredistance Papilio set and sizes

Papilio by Puredistance is available as extrait de parfum in 17ml (175 euros), 60ml (295 euros), and 100ml with handmade leather folder (490 euros) at the official Puredistance website and e-store. 

In Athens, Greece, it is available in the King George boutique at Syntagma Square.

Eau d'Ivoire by Balmain: fragrance review

One often sees young girls looking for a perfume for everyday -clean, that will be well liked by their entourage, that will make them feel feminine, and in full possession of the coolness of their youth. They're offered a pile of branded products in big department stores, and one tends to feel a little bit sorry for the embarrassment; too much choice, but too little distinction. Yet small gems await in the wings. Eau d'Ivoire is a cooler and more modern style variant of the re-launched Ivoire by Pierre Balmain (which gave us legendary fragrances like Vent Vert, Miss Balmain and Jolie Madame) a year later, in 2013. 

 

The relaunched contemporary Ivoire by Balmain is also beautiful, with an aldehyde arrangement of cleanliness and soap, less retro-"mommy" compared to perfumer Francis Camail's 1979 original Ivoire (for some funny reason, the perfumer's name always reminds me of Camay soap ...). 

In Eau d'Ivoire we're dealing with a bright, shiny, dominant magnolia that comes to the fore like a young girl at an event, who radiates natural beauty: fresh flawless skin,  sculpted features, loose lush hair, light-footed dance moves, a gaze with no hidden. You look at her and your mood lifts. 

The fragrance of Eau d'Ivoire has that deliriously attractive acidic feeling that men like so much, the freshness of initial spraying that is combined with the feeling of sophisticated musky skin-like haze underneath, which, although it speaks of cleanliness, does not scratch the nose with the sweetish acrid smell of fabric softener. The aldehydidic profile is weakened compared to the original Ivoire, but it is accompanying in a primo secondo fashion. A hint of soap, of the bath ritual, a feeling of well-being and softness remains on the skin when it dries, with a soupcon of clean fractalized patchouli. 

Eau d'Ivoire lasts a rather long time especially on fabric, but noses almost "destroyed" by a diet too indulgent in synthetic vanilla, patchouli and harsh oudh accords might find it undetectable. Solution? After a bout of gluttony, it takes a little fasting to re-evaluate the subtler nuances of good cooking. A break of sweet and acrid powdery smells will convince you of the truth of my claim. 

Parting shot: Eau d'Ivoire reminds me of the also optimistic beautiful Joie Eclat by Valeur Absolue. 

 

 

Eau d'Italie Magnolia Romana: fragrance review

 The beauty of the gigantic blossoms of magnolia is their happy citrusy freshness: I always find myself surprised that the sheer awe the blossom creates, in terms of visual volume (their size is quite something!) is transliterated into a scent that is airy, crystalline, and quite delicate. Spare a thought for the contrast of the heavy and trickily intoxication that jasmine absolute stands for in relation to the minuscule flower itself. In Eau d'Italie's Magnolia Romana the airiness of the blossom is highlighted through a very appropriate watery and ozonic accord that embraces the waxy flower, and makes it seem even fresher, as if it's still attached on the tree where it blossomed. 

The addition of a piquant green note (a hint of spice) and the clear orange blossom (which is treated to turn very soapy) are further additions which reinforce that impression of rejuvenation. This effect not only faithfully recreates the necessary natural ambience around the magnolia tree, it also corresponds well to the ambience implied by the brand's name: Italy. The company was founded on the premises of the Hotel La Sinenuse at Positano, a beautiful little town off the coast of Amalfi in the south of Italy.

It's true that magnolias don't grow in soils and climes that are not warm, being almost sub-tropical in categorization, and the environment of temperate Italy is adequately conductive, especially now with global warming (there's the lone nice side-effect of it...) So if you're living somewhere where the climate zone prohibits enjoying the elation and optimism that such a sunny, open blossom as the magnolia evokes, Magnolia Romana might do the trick, all year round, to bring Italian spring into your life.

Hermes Un Jardin sur la Lagune: fragrance review

In old novels, in the time of Balzac and thereabouts (as I have written in detail before), or even prior to that time, there is the well-known trope of the poor relative, usually female, who receives the second hand clothes of their elders and betters in social status, with the acceptance of keen appreciation of their circumstances. Governesses, school mistresses, nurses, or beneficiaries of a small income of a few pounds or francs a year, thanks to the generosity and sense of due of an almost unknown yet benevolent antecedent. In the world of perfumes, this situation is usual and usually ignites the same condescending acceptance: "close, but no cigar; divested of the elements which make the original truly flamboyant or plush, bon pour l'Orient."

via

It's with great pleasure that I found out that Un Jardin sur la Lagune by Hermes (a spring 2019 launch) is an exception to that scenario. One of my favourite and closest to heart fragrances, Lys Méditerranée by perfumer Edouard Fléchier for the niche brand of Frédéric Malle, has a little cousin; one who does not ape the greater one, nor does it deign to wear the elder's hand-me-downs, Un Jardin sur la Lagune by Hermes.

An abstract feeling of petals from flowers of another dimension, of champaca and bliss, unfolds into space like cones which embraces with arms opens wide, with the piquant joy of citrusy touches and the blissful cocoon of white musk.

In Un Jardin sur la Lagune, inspired by a secret Venetian garden which Christine Nagel, in-house perfumer for Hermes, discovered thanks to the writings of a blogger, the feeling of solace and silent contentment is palpable.

The scent of far away algae is delicate in Un Jardin sur la Lagune yet there, the salty water which hits the lonely craggy shore or the foundations of an old building immersed into the water, possesses that sort of introspection, a very humane sense of disorganisation and an ironic look on the state of the Human Condition that even Balzac would be jealous of.

Les Jardins series in the Hermes portfolio is a line of easy and lightweight fragrances which began its course in 2003 with Un Jardin sur la Méditerranée, the impression of a mediterranean garden where people nibble on freshly cut figs. Next came Un Jardin sur le Nil (2005), inspired by a trip to Assouan, in Egypt; then Un Jardin apres la Mousson (2008), evoking the watery landscape of Kerala, India, after the passing of the monsoon; Un Jardin sur le Toit (2011), inspired by the war-time garden on the terrace of the flagship Hermes boutique in Paris, and Le Jardin de Monsieur Li (2015), a minty citrus evoking a special eastern garden. 
All prior Jardin fragrances have been composed by legendary perfumer Jean Claude Ellena (an interview of whom I had the honour of taking HERE), and therefore Un Jardin sur la Lagune is Christine Nagel's first entry in the series. 

Editions de Parfums Frederic Malle Eau de Magnolia: new fragrance

Magnolia is shaping up to be a major, recurrent theme in niche releases lately and one of the first officially "niche" brands, the one who introduced the notion of "perfume authors", namely Editions de Parfums Frederic Malle is issuing their own version: Eau de Magnolia, as depicted below.
After all, we at Perfume Shrine had announced it as a rumour 4 years ago!! (yes, really!)

via Ccercle/twitter

The task has been undertaken by acclaimed perfumer Carlos Benaim who knows how to construct a floral of this waxy and yet also lemony fresh blossom, fluffy and substantial at the same time. The effect can be nothing short of radiant! Up till now, Benaim's skills had been utilized in the Editions de Parfums line for the Home scents (for which he composed Cafe Society, Rosa Rugosa, Rubrum Lily, Jurassic Flower and Saint de Saints), but now a major new release of fine fragrance is trusted upon his shoulders for Eau de Magnolia.

Eau de Magnolia by Editions de Parfums: soon at a Malle boutique or counter near you.

Hermes Jour d'Hermes: fragrance review & insights into fragrance creation

Things which are equal to the same thing are equal to each other.
~Euclid

photo by AlberCAN (copyright 2012) for use on PerfumeShrine

By guest writer AlbertCAN

Simple elegance is often the hardest to grasp. The emphasis here, of course, lies in its sophistication: the fusion of ideas being so purposely concised and delicately tailored that the communication becomes deceptively simple. Ideas just float on their own merits, process gone and vanished. For years now, for instance, many have quipped that the great Anna Pavlova probably danced her famous “The Dying Swan” program as party entertainment, but judging by the technical brilliance, intricate grace and athletic poise displayed by prima ballerina Ulyana Lopatkina below I wouldn’t classify it as a simple dance: to even stand on pointe for nearly four minutes while delivering all the nuanced emotions? Not ever for the faint hearted.

I was pondering all these intricacies almost three weeks ago when I was introduced to Jour d'Hermès (2012), the latest feminine fragrance by master perfumer Jean-Claude Ellena, and when I was informed of the project scope I was very surprised by its seemingly effortless premise: a modern soft floral, radiance from dawn to dusk. No emphasis on particular notes. No PR blitz upon the initial launch. Boutique only until Spring 2013. All against the grain.

The name is also deceptively simple, another subtle risk. Jour d'Hermès (pronounced roughly as ‘joor dair-mess’), though perfectly fitting with the brand’s chosen theme for 2012—Gift Of Time, or Le temps devant soi—isn’t the most accessible name for non-francophones and does require a reasonable grasp of the language. The name does, on the other hand, complement the core theme* of Hermès perfectly: the land and the sky. Case in point? The two best-selling scarves: “Brides de Gala” (on the left) on saddlery and “Astrologie” (below right) on the zodiac constellations—of the land and the sky. Olfaction wise, since we already have the masculine Terre d'Hermès (2006) representing the earth, and since Ciel d'Hermès would have been too obvious, here we have Jour d'Hermès representing the other half of the universe—though I should point out that the above-mentioned names are slightly subversive, with la terre being a feminine word in place of a masculine fragrance and le jour being a masculine word in French. One might think little of the seemingly archaic French noun gender categorization, but I should point out that the name “Calèche” was originally chosen in part because it is a feminine word in French—la calèche. Still, I’m ahead of myself: more on that front later.

The fragrance is yet another intricacy in disguise: Jour d'Hermès opens with quite a tart grapefruit element (quelle surprise) followed immediately by a soft verdancy—all against a floral murmur. Long-time readers of Ellena’s olfactive works would also notice a fruity syntax to the mix, though purposely kept non-specific with a soft sensual mango bias as the fragrance wears on. (The master perfumer has mentioned his partiality to the scent of mango in his book “Journal d'un parfumeur”.) Then in comes the radiance and the scent deftly draws out a delicate array of flowers: sweet pea and gardenia most prominently, although I have also observed a quote of the translucence lifted from Vanille Galante (2009), the lilting orange blossom in Iris Ukiyoe (2010). Further, if one can excuse my impertinence: with the help of the IFRA-sanctioned ingredient label—and my humble training in perfumery—I can also deduce the following floral elements: lily of the valley, modern hybrid rose, tuberose, ylang ylang, jasmine—although these elements are utilized in such a quasi-deconstructed manner that Ellena the magician here only shows an whiff of the ideas. It’s a dawn-kissed, dewy garland—not a Floriade by any stretch of the imagination. The overall structure of the fragrance is kept clean and tailored; the diffusion pattern is built with a purpose; sillage modern, sensual and very long-lasting.

The contradiction of this maximizing minimalism is worth pondering here. This is a luminous floral built under and only under the aegis of our time: three decades ago this idea of floral barraging would have been a Maupassant Realism, as testified in “First” (1976) by Van Cleef & Apels, another Ellena creation; a mere decade ago J’Adore (1999) by Christian Dior with its coquettish charm fronted by the saccharine champaca and violet. Jour d'Hermès is unapologetically floral at heart but decidedly anti-FlowerBomb.

Which begs the question: how does Jean-Claude Ellena manage such sustained flurry of floralcy in flight without all the burdensome cliché of heft often associated with the genre? Without the help of gas chromatography (out of the respect of the master perfumer, really) I would offer a possible hypothesis after a careful examination of his interviews and writings.

I have already mentioned the use of sweet pea, which Ellena has devoted a spirited entry in his “Journal d'un parfumeur” (2011). My English translation of the passage in question offers a glimpse to his art.

                                                                                                       Cabris, Wednesday April 14, 2010
Sweet peas, when in bouquet, remind me of ruffled flamenco dresses. The flower has graceful petals and has the appearance of organdie. They do not have a determined smell, but a scent that hesitates between rose, orange blossom and Sweet William, with its touch of vanilla. I threw in seven components that seem necessary to sketch the smell. One, two, three attempts to balance the proportions, to which I added a carnation note to the fourth test to correct myself again. The fifth test seems appropriate. I have a sketch of smell with which I can start a perfume.

SWEET PEA (FIFTH DRAFT)
phenylethyl alcohol               200
Paradisone ®                      180
hydroxycitronellal                 50
Rhodinal                           30
acetyl isoeugenol                  15
orange blossom (abs colorless)     15
cis-3 hexenol                       5
phenylacetic aldehyde 50%           5
______________________________________
                                   500

Diluted at 5% in perfumery alcohol at 85°.

While it’s not certain whether Ellena adopted the exact sweet pea accord above for his latest feminine fragrance the olfactory essay is of interest. The accord is emblematic due to its hologramatic nature: the nuance of the gentle flora is evident, yet within there’s also a radiant magnolia (Paradisone), a splash of lily of the valley (hydroxycitronellal), a boutonnière of carnation (acetyl isoeugenol), a blade of fresh luminous verdancy (cis-3 hexenol) and a whiff of tartness (Rhodinal) for good measure—not to mention the orange blossom absolute and the frilly rosy touch from phenylethyl alcohol. As an avid gardener who has harvested his share of sweet peas I must say Ellena is shockingly spot-on with so few ingredients.

Within the same book Ellena’s thoughts on gardenia is even more sparse. Again my English translation:

Gardénia

aldehyde C-18 prunolide
styrallyl acetate
methyl anthranilate

For the scent of gardenia I prefer that of Chanel because it does not smell like the flower but happiness. The odour of gardenia is a drama between jasmine and tuberose.

Compared to the natural scent the gardenia accord above does not have the notorious mushroom lilt simply because of the absence of the tiglates. (The stryrallyl acetate, itself smelling like tart rhubarb, may have also given Jour d'Hermès the verdant tinge.) Yet what does the master perfumer meant when referring to “a drama between jasmine and tuberose”? Let’s break down the individual accords from the master perfumer:

Jasmine
benzyl acetate
Hedione
clove bud oil
indole
methyl anthranilate

Tuberose
aldehyde C-18 prunolide
methyl anthranilate
phenylethyl alcohol
benzyl salicylate

Thus elements from both are appearing in the gardenia accord, although our Elena Vosnaki has also made the following observation: "Methyl anthranilate (orange flower and ylang-ylang in low concentration, grape in high concentration) also produces very popular Schiff's Bases for a variety of floral effects, when added to aldehydes. No surprise in its being featured so much!"

Based on the info above I can deduce that Jour d'Hermès doesn't have the notes listed in part because the ‘notes’ are all connected together: sweet pea into magnolia, magnolia helping the orange blossom, orange blossom into tuberose, tuberose into gardenia. And certainly the Paradisone is known to create a radiant effect, as per both perfumer Arcadi Boix Camps and master perfumer Alberto Morillas. Under this manner Ellena, though clasping onto his aesthetics firmly, is to me also taking a page out of the notebook from old master perfumers of the 20th century such as Francis Fabron, despite obviously going after vastly different olfactory effects: very short but self-contained formulas with each 'note' sharing a set of chemicals so the elements are tightly woven as possible.

After all, what’s the point of naming all the notes in Jour d'Hermès when all the ingredients are synced to perform as one, in calibrated harmony?

I have mentioned that Jour d'Hermès is quite long-lasting, and much to my intrigue it works very well as a unisex fragrance. The use of the pricey muscone, itself a creamy modern musk, does help coaxing flowers to a more prolonged bloom...

(Hidden in the drydown I do very much suspect the use of honey absolute in conjunction with the musk, since the diffusion is such positively radiant. Oakmoss extract is also used, not at the forefront of the story by any stretch of the imagination but enough for me to see maybe classified by others as a modern chypre floral.)

...To test my hypothesis I ended up wearing Jour d'Hermès for two days straight, and on my skin it’s becomes a soft unisex fragrance. And given that Terre d'Hermès can work on the right woman perhaps the gender confusion among the two French nouns (le jour, la terre) isn’t so random after all: Ellena does believe the freedom in fragrance categorization among genders—perhaps the names are a reflection of that belief as well, that fragrance shouldn’t be gender assigned but completely up to the taste of the individual. And given the marketing scope of the latest offering I have good reasons to believe that the ray of light is being granted in the name of personal freedom, freedom in the name of simple elegance.

Hermès Jour d’Hermès is available in 50 and 85 ml Eau de Parfum, and in a 125 ml refill. It’s available now exclusively in Hermès boutiques and will go into wider distribution early next year.

*Editor (Elena's) Note: Jour d’Hermès was presented to the world in late November 2012 in Delphi, Greece (as seen here), the default spot of LIGHT worship. The god of the oracle, Apollo, has  no doubt shed a ray of sunshine on the perfumer and his works. It remains to be seen whether -to borrow a Nietzsche reference- the next fragrance, tackling the Dionysian this time, will be Nuit d’Hermès and presented in Arcadia. I'm throwing this to the mix as an idea to the Hellenophile people at  Hermès!

Photo, from top: Jour d'Hermès and “Journal d'un parfumeur”, photo taken/copyright by AlbertCAN; Uliana Lopatkina in “The Dying Swan”, photo via Tumblr; “Brides de Gala” scarf by Hermès; “Astrologie” scarf by Hermès; cover of “Journal d'un parfumeur” by Jean-Claude Ellena; Jour d'Hermès illustration via Hermes.com

Helena Rubinstein Wanted: fragrance review

Helena Rubinstein proposed that Wanted "unveils the ineffable and mysterious link that binds a woman to her love, a woman to her desires, a woman to her fragrance". Supposedly the name derives from the advertising phrase "All you've ever wanted" (Yeah, like another PhD, a second summer house, this one on Santorini so I don't end up paying exorbitant prices when there, and my offspring to behave at all times...fat chance I'll get! Anyway...)

The daring muse for Rubinstein's first foray in fragrance in 25 years (last one was the rococo typical of its era Barynia in 1985) is none other than Demi Moore, who I suppose is more daring for her choice of a much younger soulmate than anything else (no offence meant, just pondering on the "dare" factor these days). When all is said and done, more power to her and I have to note I always liked that, despite whatever procedure she has had done, she never plumped up her lips the way so many Hollywood stars do ending up like trouts. In the advertising commercial she showcases her best assets (come-hither eyes, great shape) and does a sexy speak-over with her husky, suggestive voice dressed in a Donna Karan look-alike dress (which if my memory serves me well had been her hit a decade ago).

On the other hand Wanted is daring to the degree that a chicken and asparagus casserole can be described as such: surely a nice combination of flavours, but not unheard of and the only folks who won't touch it with a six-feet pole are small children (and even then...). Likewise Wanted recalls to mind shades of Dolce & Gabanna's The One, in a lighter, more citrusy incarnation, and woodier rather than fruity-orientalised; stepping from the sauna with a lovely peignoir on the colour of cream, all pores cleansed and exctracted (the lily of the valley touches of "scrubbed clean" along with what I deduce are white musks at the base).
Magnolia grandiflora is shaping to be the newest iris (i.e. a huge trend) and after a dearth of florals in favour of gourmands, it seems they're getting back with a vengeance, possibly as a result of the mega hit of J'Adore by Dior which also features magnolia. In Wanted it's a fantasiacal accord of woody and creamy-floral facets (a special LMR extraction of ylang ylang) with a radiant dose of sugar spun crystals sprinkled on and an acqueous feel, which was inspired by a stay at Portofino of all places. It's certainly sweeter than Magnolia Nobile by Aqua di Parma. Perfumers Dominique Ropion and Carlos Benaim of IFF figured women who turned to their favourite cosmetics brand would expect a comforting, polished and rather delicate composition, like pampered face cream (similar approach in Eau de Fleur de Magnolia by Kenzo), that wouldn't have any hard edges, nor operatic throw-cushions the way white flowers are by their very nature rendered (and doesn't Ropion have tremendous experience with those!). Therefore fans of apocalyptical awe-inspiring florals will be disappointed, consumers with an eye on wearability will make it popular.

The bottle, designed by internationally renowned French jewels and furniture designer Hervé van der Straeten is elegant and striking in a industrial-sleekness-meets-1er arrondissement-sophistication , although the material doesn't look as luxurious up close and personal. (Or maybe I'm just extremely picky)




Notes for Helena Rubinstein Wanted: magnolia, ylang ylang and iris over cedar

Helena Rubinstein Wanted is available as Eau de Parfum 1.7 fl. oz. for $60/50ml for €70, Eau de Parfum 3.4 fl. oz. for $80/ 100ml for €100 and Body Lotion 6.6 fl. oz., $45; exclusively at Macy's from November 5th and at major department stores in Europe.

Pic of Demi Moore via cosmetic candy, Wanted bottle pic via bwconfidential.com

Aqua di Parma Magnolia Nobile: fragrance review

After Eau d'Italie and their watercolour rendering of the magnolia flower, Magnolia Romana, a formula that takes magnolias into a gouache approximation without their true oilier features visible, Magnolia Nobile by Aqua di Parma is another fresh take on the magnolia flower; like an unmade bed in black and white it fuses the contrapunto of cool and warm into sciaphobia, questioning our own gaze into seeing things that might not be there.

Magnolia as a note is proving to be very popular lately, if we consider recent launches: a new Helena Rubinsten fragrance fronted by Demi More, Wanted, the lovely Eau de Fleur de Magnolia by Kenzo (which we reviewed here), the "cologne florale" J'Adore L'Eau by Dior and Cristalle Eau Verte by Chanel.
In the last few years there seem to be big trends on certain perfume notes which take over and almost dominate the market: the year of iris flummoxed us with allusions to the Florentine rhizomes when the (respectable and often lovely) substitues concocted in a lab were playing hide-and-seek in the bottle; the from-top-to-bottom craziness for oud left many with the impression that the pathological secretion of the Aquillaria tree was indeed the source of the complex and medicinal smell in their fragrance (at those price points, not so!); the dominance of cleaned-up, de-moleculed patchouli has been harbouring a progeny of the hundreds into almost every new release to hit the market for some time now. It seemed magnolia couldn't escape for long...
Acqua di Parma was inspired by the ephemeral flower that can be smelled ‘in the gardens of elegant villas at Lake Como’ (in northern Italy).’ After the powdery-orange trail of Iris Nobile, Magnolia Nobile is woodsier, fresher and greener. A perfume of ‘elegant femininity intended for women who don’t need to attract attention.’

The natural magnolia blossom is a big waxy embrace of ginormous petals that seem to exude both a crystalline, lemony facet and more intimate, creamy jasmine-like effusions that can take a slightly tinfoil-like odour under some weather conditions to my nose. The treatment in Magnolia Nobile is following ~just like the bottle~ the one of iris in Iris Nobile of the same line, where the hesperidic top (especially in the lighter, more upbeat Eau de Toilette as opposed to the more chypre Eau de Parfum) is tieing the composition in style with the cologne genre that Aqua di Parma so effortlessly encapsulated in their classic Cologne. In Magnolia Nobile the lemony-green facets are pronounced at first, making it a zesty refreshing mix that cannot but provide an euphoric feeling, slightly sweet due to the floral essences, but there is also a familiar plummy-apricoty nuance which brings to mind popular mainstream releases which have been haunting the aisles of malls, restaurants and cinemas for a few years now. The woody musky base is also echoing in my ears like speakers in the car left on some news-relating channel in a sub-human frequency that can be felt more than heard.
In that regard the point of the construction of a "niche" fragrance along those lines (if a LVMH-owned company can be considered that) is eluding me. Magnolia Nobile is quite pleasant and does not become grandiloquent at any point which is a plus, but I cannot deny my disappointment with the familiarity with which it greets me when I expected a novel path that would bring me some Tarkovskian dream sequence. Maybe my expectations were too high. I am holding out for the next Nobile flower in the line before adding a companion to my Aqua di Parma Iris bottle.

Notes for Magnolia Nobile by Aqua di Parma:
Top: bergamot, lemon, citron, green notes
Heart: magnolia, jasmine, rose, tuberose
Base: sandalwood, vetiver, sandalwood, vanilla

Available as Eau de Parfum in 100ml/3.4oz and 150ml/5oz at Neiman Marcus and select doors internationally.

One large sample will be offered to a lucky reader. State your interest!

Photograph The Unmade Bed by Imogen Cunningham via personal.pblogs.gr. Ad pic via fashionindie.com

Will the upcoming Frederic Malle scent be a magnolia?

"Frederic Malle is the epitome of French elegance in a beige double-breasted gaberdine suit, crisp white shirt, polished brown shoes and wave of salt-and-pepper hair as he steps into Grandiflora, one of Sydney's finest florists".

This is how Frédéric Malle is introduced in an article on The Australian, on which he explains the concept of the smell booths that are installed in his boutiques (please see our Paris shopping Memoirs part 2 for more information). The story originally appeared in the July 2009 issue of Wish magazine. (a free insert inside metro editions of The Australian on the first Friday of each month).
In the photograph the caption reads: "Malle is developing a scent based on the magnolia-grandiflora". Therefore, after the unusual treatment that violet had in the hands of Maurice Roucel in Dans Tes Bras, another new Malle fragrance, after this season's Géranium pour Monsieur, is set to see the light of day, this time focused around this delightful blossom with citrusy and white floral facets. It remains to be seen which perfumer is undertaking this task (we will update when more info becomes available) and although Maurice Roucel has been credited with fragrances which feature magnolia notes (L'Instant comes to mind), let me point out that according to Luca Turin, who first mentioned this factoid in "Perfumes The Guide", it is magnolia leaf note and not magnolia blossom which is his "signature note". Bourdon is retired, Ropion had been all too recently working on the last one, Ellena has an exclusive contract he can't break, so this leaves us with interesting and unusual choices. Shall we propose a working title of "Magnolia pour Mademoiselle"?

Related reading on Perfume Shrine: Frederic Malle scents and news

Pic via The Australian.

Kenzo Les Eaux de Fleur Collection trio: Silk, Tea and Magnolia

Everyone is coming out with a "collection of scents", so why not Kenzo?
The new Kenzo Les Eaux De Fleurs Collection includes three floral fragrant waters inspired by Japan and created upon silk-tree flower, tea blooms and magnolia blossoms, called respectively Eau de Fleur de Soie (silk), Eau de Fleur de Thé (tea) and Eau de Fleur de Magnolia (magnolia). The plan is to add a new flower each year. What ties them? An ethereal floralcy, delicate transparence and subtlety. One might call them inoffensive. Also, they're by no means soliflores (ie. fragrances which focus on replicating the smell of a single flower). These limited editions are available in transparent bottles of a uniform design presented in different colours: pink for silk flower (as the flowers indeed resemble pink ventailles), green for tea flowers and whitish-yellow for magnolia blossom.
They all cost 52 euros for 50ml of Eau de Toilette at Sephora which is where I tested them myself.




Eau De Fleur de Soie (silk-tree blossom) is created in cooperation with perfumer Jean Jacques as a velvety, nonchalant floral-fruity of silk blossom with fruity accents in the heart of the fragrance. Very light and airy, it progressively becomes a little "thick" with an orientalised wink.

Eau De Fleur de Thé (tea blossom) is created by perfumer Aurélien Guichard and is the most unisex of the lot. The tea blossom is garlanding a heart of bitter notes of inky tea, finishing on a musky trail. It seem to be inspired by two of Bulgari's tea fragrances: Eau parfumée au thé vert (green tea) and Eau parfumée au thé blanc (white tea). The tea note eschews the green apple variety "green tea" accord which floods the market, but instead has a realistic tannic, a little inky green tea leaves tonality complimented with lime and white musk.

Eau De Fleur de Magnolia (magnolia blossom) is created in cooperation with perfumer Francis Kurkdjian and marries citrus, non-sweet accents to the complimentary radiant lemony facets of creamy magnolia blossoms, giving off a posh soapy feel. The lingering note is one of woodiness, when the floral notes have but vanished into thin air.

None of the above wowed me beyong the "perfectly nice, if rather unmemorable", which is a shame really, because I quite like the Kenzo portfolio on the whole: Kenzo Summer is a delicious and sensual creamy mimosa and milky musks concoction to dispell any dark thought with its bright yellow halo. Kenzo Jungle L'Elephant is a trusted spicy-fruity oriental that sets one apart. Kenzo Parfum d'été had been the green aqueous floral of one of several summers ago spent on Cyprus island. Kenzo Flower is a best-seller for a reason: it re-introduces the violet and powder note to an audience who is urban and quirky; not exactly the Victoriana envisioned by other traditional brands. Its spins (Flower le Parfum and Flower Oriental) are rather interesting as well! Kenzo Amour captures the comforting scent of a rice milky pudding tasted after reading bed-time stories. Even Kenzo Homme has something about its aromatic woodiness in the midst of vast spaces of water that keeps my interest for a little while.
The new collection Eaux de Fleurs should provide enjoyment to those who want a pretty spring or summer fragrance with a soft ambience about it without requiring further thinking on their part. If pressed I would choose Eau de Fleur de Magnolia for its creamy touch bearing a slight wink to Santa Maria Novela's individual Calycanthus refreshing élan, with Eau de Fleur de The as a second choice for its bitter accents although all three are quite pleasant.

They are all available at Amazon now: Eau de Fleur de Soie, Eau de Fleur de The, Eau de Fleur de Magnolia for 55$.

Pic via Kenzo

The new Rumeur by Lanvin: Fragrance review & history

When the old becomes new again we may be witnessing Gaudí's "Sagrada Familia" or "Le Tombeau de Couperin" by Ravel.
What I mean: it’s not necessarily a bad thing! Enter the re-orchastration of Rumeur by the house of Lanvin which is both rather pretty and completely different than the somptuous vintage formula.

Jeanne Lanvin was originally a milliner that came to design clothes for her daughter and her friends’ daughters, establishing a salon that finally catered for adults just before World War I. Soon the salon became an entity of its own, continuing the tradition till today under the creative baguette of young designer Albert Elbaz.
It is however the perfume spectrum of Lanvin that has not survived that well over the years and that is assuredly a pity.

Jeanne Lanvin had a mysterious personage named Madame Zed (doesn’t she sound like a Graham Greene novel set in post-war Vienna?), an elderly Russian, creating perfumes for her, the last of which was the legendary My Sin, a very successful triumph. After that it was André Fraysse who was hired as house perfumer in 1924, segueing on to create what was termed by another great nose (Edmond Roudnitska) “the most spectacular tetralogy in perfumery”: Arpège in 1927, Scandale in 1931, Rumeur in 1932 and Prétexte in 1937. Sadly, only Arpège with its sonorous musical name still circulates on perfume counters today (after some adventures in formulaic changes, but happily restored to its original glory finally), as the world is fickle and tastes change, it seems. It might have to do with the fact that the perfume department of the house was sold to L’oréal conglomerate, too. (But you’d call me leftist if I insisted and I wouldn’t want you to do that). In any case, Arpège saw a flanker on its tail in recent years, éclat de Arpège, a pleasant, lilac -coloured, fruity floral that coincided with the latest olfactory trends, but bore no relation to the rich tradition of the house.

And then, just like that, last year saw the re-emergence of the old glory of Rumeur. Or was it but a specter of its old self?
Certainly the new version bears no olfactory relation to the old one’s dark chypre trail of fruity nuances on a dark mossy bed of plush. Those were times when such things were appreciated. By today’s standards and due to the eclipse of oakmoss from perfume formulae the vintage Rumeur is intoxicating and very perfumey; although by no means unwearable or outdated. Still, the house needed a new perfume to boost its re-vamped image and the difficulty of obtaining rights for use of a new name, not to mention the brainstorming needed for the inspiration of a successful one, were stumbling blocks that eased the acceptance of an older name being stuck on a new product. This dampens our hopes of them ever re-issuing their older treasure, like for instance Guerlain did with their Sous le Vent, but rather continue on that path that Piguet led with Baghari. However, much like Baghari, the result in Rumeur’s case is not disappointing.

Conceived by Francis Kurkdjian , the talented perfumer who is responsible for among others Narciso for Her, Rose Barbare for the Guerlain art et matiere line, and Eau Noire for Dior, it has his familiar style of silky elegance that can never become cloying or childish. Retaining the mere sketch of a chypre composition as most new “pink chypres” do (the term was brilliantly coined by Ayala Moriel to denote the new chypres that lack an oakmoss base) it has the abstract powdery floral feel I have come to expect of this exciting new category of perfumes that come to the rescue after the avalanche of too many fruity florals and teeny bobber vanillic candysticks. It’s a welcome change and a subtly sensual trend I am quite willing to follow.

The new Rumeur begins on a subtle and fresh plane of aldehydes that support the exquisite florancy of pretty seringa, the family of which lilac is an offspring, and of quiet soft-petaled magnolia, like transparent veils of a white material on a soft feminine body illuminated by the afternoon sun. If you have been enamoured with the discreet sexiness of Narciso for Her especially in its superior eau de toilette version like I have, then you are sure to appreciate the loveliness such an effect produces in the new Rumeur. Although patchouli is listed in both scents you would be hard pressed to discern it as the whole effect is of a very sensual but abstract aroma that is hard to pinpoint.
There is subtle muskiness and sweetness that whispers come hither in a way that does not entirely do away with romantic sensibilities of yore. It culminates in a panorama of woody notes enriched with the depth of ambroxan lending projection and decent lasting power on skin and clothes.
On the whole, picture it as a silky rosy robe de chambre ready to shed its modesty with one fell sweep of the cute ribbon that anchors it to a supple waist and you’re there.

The bottle is quite pleasant to look at, a bit like the shape of Promesse by Cacharel, with a matte golden ring on the cap, from which I don’t advise you to hold it like the perversely smokey eyed and modernly coiffed model does in the printed advertisements. In my opinion there is a discrepancy between advertising image and actual scent in this one as the no doubt innovative clothes of the model do not reflect the prettiness and romanticism of the perfumed result. However in an aggressive society which reflects in the sexual arena as well, it is the visual rather than the olfactual that is predatory and mean. Happily the new Rumeur is neither.


Official notes for the reissued Rumeur by Lanvin: magnolia, white roses, jasmine sambac, seringa, orange blossom, lily of the valley, patchouli, musks, ambroxan.

Available from major department stores.

Top pic courtesy of cofe.ru, "My sin" ad from okadi, new ad for Rumeur from escentual.