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Showing posts with label masculine. Show all posts
Showing posts with label masculine. Show all posts
Tuesday, January 23, 2024
Boss Bottled Elixir: fragrance review
Although we tend to overlook Boss fragrances, if only because of their ubiquitousness and confusing names, apparently, they still possess the power to surprise us. Color me impressed, then, upon discovering that Boss Bottled Elixir is nothing short of an anomaly in the usual Boss range.
It's exciting, atypical in the roster, certainly night-time material, and with a dark streak that defies the 'fitting in' average guy profile we tend to associate with the brand. Call it a prejudice, but it's nice demolishing these with the hammer of Thor sometimes, isn't it?
Boss Bottled Elixir was conceived by Annick Menardo, a beloved perfumer of cult hits, and Suzy le Helley, and that explains some things. The intersection of incense and cedar is a direct quote from the niche segment, while cardamom, with its cooling aura, lifts the darker elements of the labdanum base. Yet the dark base is unmistakably there throughout. It's booming like a bass coming from a car's sound system far away. The resinous-patchouli-turned-soil chord is dominant and deliciously done. Its smoky elements come through via the smokey facet of patchouli and vetiver coupled and reflected by the smoky aspect of incense. Perfect for nights out and great overall.
Tuesday, December 24, 2019
Goeffrey Beene Grey Flannel: fragrance review
In the Grey Flannel scent by American designer Geoffrey Beene, crisp greenery and musk tonalities (plus that seductive coumarin in the bottom) combine to evoke a man in a tailored suit, perfectly groomed, clean-smelling without one iota of modern aquatic “freshness." The man who wears this in cooler weather is the quiet type, a smart businessman or someone who has been opting for it for half his life and wisely knows not to change. If it ain’t broken, don’t fix it, as they say. The only misstep? Perhaps that flannel in question is really purplish-green instead of grey? But we can be very forgiving in his case.
The bitterness of galbanum is what greets you, which is incongruent with modern sensibilities, I'd wager, since most men (and women, of course) are attuned to sweeter-smelling notes nowadays, but wait it out a bit, because the scent mellows into a violet leaf accord with aubepine aromachemicals and a touch of iris and almond — from the coumarin — in the background. Overall, its feel is cooling and rejuvenating without being spikey sharp, especially in warmer climates or on hot summer days. But let it bloom on a rainy day and there comes a certain melancholy coming out of the heart, which is endearing in an unsentimental way — priceless.
There is a distinct kinship with Dior's classic masculine cologne from the 1980s, the famous Fahrenheit pour homme. But there the violet takes on a different guise, leaves and all, with a more petrol-smelling, pungent opening that is a throw back to the agrestic and abstract opening of Guerlain Jicky, instead of the bitterness of galbanum in the Beene creation. Still, the indigestible nature of the beast is hard to miss. The Grey Flannel customer was prepared for the onslaught to the senses that the original Fahrenheit presented a decade later...
NB. There is another edition called Eau de Grey Flannel which takes the metallic grey of dihydromyrcenol (that aromachemical which characterized all the Cool Water clones of the 1990s) which dilutes the original Grey Flannel in a sea of ionized water. Do not go for that.
NB.2. My bottle comes from the early 2000s. There are several batches out there with a tiny bit of variation. But not too much.
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The bitterness of galbanum is what greets you, which is incongruent with modern sensibilities, I'd wager, since most men (and women, of course) are attuned to sweeter-smelling notes nowadays, but wait it out a bit, because the scent mellows into a violet leaf accord with aubepine aromachemicals and a touch of iris and almond — from the coumarin — in the background. Overall, its feel is cooling and rejuvenating without being spikey sharp, especially in warmer climates or on hot summer days. But let it bloom on a rainy day and there comes a certain melancholy coming out of the heart, which is endearing in an unsentimental way — priceless.
There is a distinct kinship with Dior's classic masculine cologne from the 1980s, the famous Fahrenheit pour homme. But there the violet takes on a different guise, leaves and all, with a more petrol-smelling, pungent opening that is a throw back to the agrestic and abstract opening of Guerlain Jicky, instead of the bitterness of galbanum in the Beene creation. Still, the indigestible nature of the beast is hard to miss. The Grey Flannel customer was prepared for the onslaught to the senses that the original Fahrenheit presented a decade later...
NB. There is another edition called Eau de Grey Flannel which takes the metallic grey of dihydromyrcenol (that aromachemical which characterized all the Cool Water clones of the 1990s) which dilutes the original Grey Flannel in a sea of ionized water. Do not go for that.
NB.2. My bottle comes from the early 2000s. There are several batches out there with a tiny bit of variation. But not too much.
Monday, October 1, 2018
Paco Rabanne Pour Homme: fragrance review
Paco Rabanne has been the green giant looming on the bath sill of many a bathroom in my country of origin in the 1970s and 1980s. This classic fougère has marked a generation, alongside best-sellers Drakkar Noir and Aramis, not to forget Azzaro pour Home; with a scent that has come to characterize maleness. In the case of Paco Rabanne pour Homme the underlying brutishness is there, but the sophisticated veneer and the hint of sweetness makes it friendlier than any of the others.
Like any classic fougère the abstractness of Paco Rabanne pour Homme tries to replicate a feeling, an impression, rather than an actual smell. The fern from which the fragrance family takes the name (in homage to the 19th century Fougère Royale fragrance by Houbigant discussed above) is more like the green tentacles of soapy leatheriness of the barbershop than anything anyone would actually meet in a forest. Ferns don't smell much after all. The fougère is a man-made smell rather than an approximation of the natural.
The soapy overlay of Paco Rabanne pour Homme makes it exceptionally attuned to that prerequisite of any masculine fragrance that aims for wide appeal: a sense of cleanliness, though not entirely ersatz thanks to the familiar recollection of lavender essence; but at the same time a man-made product for sure. It's an entirely inedible smell, alternatively cool and warm, gaining warmth in the drydown thanks to an ambery note, always forceful despite the hint of honeyed softness, the hallmark of any good representative in the fougère genre. Some things are not to be trifled with.
The newer version alas does not live up to the old one, but it's still something that needs to be visited in order to appreciate how steadfast a classic fougère can be. It's how fathers should smell like, a scent of dependency and safety.
Like any classic fougère the abstractness of Paco Rabanne pour Homme tries to replicate a feeling, an impression, rather than an actual smell. The fern from which the fragrance family takes the name (in homage to the 19th century Fougère Royale fragrance by Houbigant discussed above) is more like the green tentacles of soapy leatheriness of the barbershop than anything anyone would actually meet in a forest. Ferns don't smell much after all. The fougère is a man-made smell rather than an approximation of the natural.
The soapy overlay of Paco Rabanne pour Homme makes it exceptionally attuned to that prerequisite of any masculine fragrance that aims for wide appeal: a sense of cleanliness, though not entirely ersatz thanks to the familiar recollection of lavender essence; but at the same time a man-made product for sure. It's an entirely inedible smell, alternatively cool and warm, gaining warmth in the drydown thanks to an ambery note, always forceful despite the hint of honeyed softness, the hallmark of any good representative in the fougère genre. Some things are not to be trifled with.
The newer version alas does not live up to the old one, but it's still something that needs to be visited in order to appreciate how steadfast a classic fougère can be. It's how fathers should smell like, a scent of dependency and safety.
Thursday, July 6, 2017
YSL La Nuit de l'Homme: fragrance review
"Sexy as hell" is what our Hellenic readers hail this cologne as. An enthusiastic endorsement from people who do actually enjoy a wide array of male colognes, La Nuit de l'homme has been YSL's best release in their masculine section for quite some time. Recents batches have become decidedly weaker, but the magic of the spicy woody notes persists.
Woody scents are typically manly, mainly due to a lack of distracting elements from their solid "watch me chop the wood, I'm a lumberjack" impression. But the cunning in La Nuit de l'Homme lies in interweaving a coolish tinge of spicy cardamom which interplays with the traditional barber-shop lavender to give a juxtaposition of cleanliness and mysterious exoticism. It's definitely one to wear when out flirting. There are very few women who don't like this one.
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Woody scents are typically manly, mainly due to a lack of distracting elements from their solid "watch me chop the wood, I'm a lumberjack" impression. But the cunning in La Nuit de l'Homme lies in interweaving a coolish tinge of spicy cardamom which interplays with the traditional barber-shop lavender to give a juxtaposition of cleanliness and mysterious exoticism. It's definitely one to wear when out flirting. There are very few women who don't like this one.
Thursday, January 12, 2017
Joop Homme: fragrance review
When King Kong punches his pectorals in wild dominance, you know there's an ominous threat of being squished into pulp any minute now. When Joop! Homme approaches, thundering like the bass off a distant Jeep with the speakers in full volume, you know you're in trouble. This thing is (or rather used to be) HUGE.
It shouldn't come as a surprise being conceived by perfumer Michel Almairac in the decade of excess, the 1980s, but it always comes into my mind with a chuckle when I consider that Joop! Homme is just 3 years senior to the perfume that needs to be applied with a Q-tip shaken before one's self to apply, i.e. Angel.
Much like that other Godzilla of perfumery it is a sweet perfume. And it's a deep pink; it's an ingenious counterpoint of a male fragrance being tinted in the color of Barbies and kids' cough syrup, and of a female fragrance (Angel) tinted in the hues of male childhood since at least Edwardian times!
The clustering of vanilla, coumarin (described as tonka beans), and heliotrope in Joop! Homme accounts for a furry-embrace experience from a King Kong in amorous disposition. And when you think your favorite primate is doing all the love motions known to primates since time immemorial, and drowning everything out with a welcome splash of Coca Cola, a beautiful, clean orange blossom note emerges like the corolla of a blossom. And then gets engulfed with fluffy notes like cherry pipe tobacco.
If "you beast!" is the desirable moan off the lips of a potential partner doing the down and dirty, Joop! Homme is a mighty fine choice. The Newland Archers of this world might find it crude though, be warned.
It shouldn't come as a surprise being conceived by perfumer Michel Almairac in the decade of excess, the 1980s, but it always comes into my mind with a chuckle when I consider that Joop! Homme is just 3 years senior to the perfume that needs to be applied with a Q-tip shaken before one's self to apply, i.e. Angel.
Much like that other Godzilla of perfumery it is a sweet perfume. And it's a deep pink; it's an ingenious counterpoint of a male fragrance being tinted in the color of Barbies and kids' cough syrup, and of a female fragrance (Angel) tinted in the hues of male childhood since at least Edwardian times!
The clustering of vanilla, coumarin (described as tonka beans), and heliotrope in Joop! Homme accounts for a furry-embrace experience from a King Kong in amorous disposition. And when you think your favorite primate is doing all the love motions known to primates since time immemorial, and drowning everything out with a welcome splash of Coca Cola, a beautiful, clean orange blossom note emerges like the corolla of a blossom. And then gets engulfed with fluffy notes like cherry pipe tobacco.
If "you beast!" is the desirable moan off the lips of a potential partner doing the down and dirty, Joop! Homme is a mighty fine choice. The Newland Archers of this world might find it crude though, be warned.
Tuesday, August 4, 2015
Annick Goutal Duel: fragrance review
Like erotic opponents distancing themselves from each other only to better aim at the heart with a fatal gunshot, the materials in Annick Goutal's fragrance Duel are juxtaposed, yet strangely sharing common ground. One can't shake the impression they'll both live to tell the tale, till a certain point at the very least.
Paraguayan petit grain, a distillate from the leaves and twigs of the citrus aurantia v.amara aka the bitter orange tree [learn about its many raw materials for perfumery here], gives the citrusy top note, Maté absolute provides a leathery undertone; this South American herb has an aroma between black tea and cut hay. The cunning thing is the two notes complement each other rather than oppose one another; the tang of the former provides a welcome suaveness to the pungency of the latter. Maybe they ought to reconcile and with Gallic charm and a gentle shrug of the shoulders decide to share the damsel after all, if she agrees.
The green aura of the combination of the two raw materials, petit grain and maté absolute (a common facet of both, their "touching back to back" so to speak) provides a summery diversion.
The house's art director, Camille Goutal, daughter of Annick, and perfumer Isabelle Doyen wanted to exploit the green character of mate absolute as well as its leather-scented backdrop into a modern, avant-garde composition that would appeal to those searching for something gentle yet substantial.
Its many facets (hay billowy softness, refreshing hesperidic tanginess, dry austere tobacco-leather) make it graceful and interesting.
Hints of tobacco and iris ground the airier, more fleeting notes in Duel without weighting them down. A prolonged fuzzy softness due to white musk is what makes the fragrance, although featured as a masculine in the Goutal canon, totally wearable by women as well. Like other masculine scents by Goutal, like the little known Eau du Fier, or the helichrysum roasted feel of Sables, Duel can be shared.
Personally I love using this cologne when wearing khakis and white T-shirts, with only sunscreen and mascara on my face, it seems to complement this kind of 'woman on a journalistic mission' rather well ; sort of gives me the energy I need in the heat to feel collected enough to pursue my line of research.
Bottom line: Duel is quite fresh yet oddly sexy; it smells the way Gabriel Garcia Bernal looks.
Available as eau de toilette 100ml at Goutal counters in select boutiques.
Related reading on Perfume Shrine:
Annick Goutal perfume reviews and news
The Leather Fragrance Series
Top 10 Masculine Fragrances
Gender Bender: Masculine Colognes Shared by Women, Feminine Fragrances Worn by Men
Paraguayan petit grain, a distillate from the leaves and twigs of the citrus aurantia v.amara aka the bitter orange tree [learn about its many raw materials for perfumery here], gives the citrusy top note, Maté absolute provides a leathery undertone; this South American herb has an aroma between black tea and cut hay. The cunning thing is the two notes complement each other rather than oppose one another; the tang of the former provides a welcome suaveness to the pungency of the latter. Maybe they ought to reconcile and with Gallic charm and a gentle shrug of the shoulders decide to share the damsel after all, if she agrees.
The green aura of the combination of the two raw materials, petit grain and maté absolute (a common facet of both, their "touching back to back" so to speak) provides a summery diversion.
The house's art director, Camille Goutal, daughter of Annick, and perfumer Isabelle Doyen wanted to exploit the green character of mate absolute as well as its leather-scented backdrop into a modern, avant-garde composition that would appeal to those searching for something gentle yet substantial.
Its many facets (hay billowy softness, refreshing hesperidic tanginess, dry austere tobacco-leather) make it graceful and interesting.
Hints of tobacco and iris ground the airier, more fleeting notes in Duel without weighting them down. A prolonged fuzzy softness due to white musk is what makes the fragrance, although featured as a masculine in the Goutal canon, totally wearable by women as well. Like other masculine scents by Goutal, like the little known Eau du Fier, or the helichrysum roasted feel of Sables, Duel can be shared.
Personally I love using this cologne when wearing khakis and white T-shirts, with only sunscreen and mascara on my face, it seems to complement this kind of 'woman on a journalistic mission' rather well ; sort of gives me the energy I need in the heat to feel collected enough to pursue my line of research.
Bottom line: Duel is quite fresh yet oddly sexy; it smells the way Gabriel Garcia Bernal looks.
Available as eau de toilette 100ml at Goutal counters in select boutiques.
Related reading on Perfume Shrine:
Annick Goutal perfume reviews and news
The Leather Fragrance Series
Top 10 Masculine Fragrances
Gender Bender: Masculine Colognes Shared by Women, Feminine Fragrances Worn by Men
Sunday, August 2, 2015
The Case for a Good Drag of Smoke: Korres Premium II L'Eau de Parfum
Poor Jon Hamm had to smoke 74 herbal cigarettes in the pilot of Mad Men alone, such is our modern shunning of smoking, even more so on screen, where it's strictly seen as "period work." And yet ... You can do lots of things with a cigarette on hand: gain time, use that sharp intake of smoke as a decisive battle cry, fill that hanging silence of exhaling with something to look into, occupy your hands, offer to light a damsel-in-distress's own cigarette ... smoking has its own language and codes.
Which nicely brings me to our matter at hand. A gorgeous tobacco fragrance for men. Those old-cut ones, like Richard Widmark. Widmark looked quite a bit like my own grandfather, who wore Tabac Original by Mauer & Wirtz; there's poetic justice in the lives of perfumephiles, you see.
Thus goes my review of the Premium II L'Eau de Parfum by Greek brand Korres. Issued in late 2014 and among the very good surprises of the beginning of this year, I realize that it's not exactly summer material (though you could wear it, why not), more of a flannel suit and fedora hat affair, yet it beckoned last week when the heatwave made everything smell so very intensely that I was sure I was either smelling fragrances from three blocks away or experiencing a case of phantosmia (sensing phantom smells). Please find my full review of this beautiful tobacco and woods cologne on this link. As always you're welcome to comment either here or there or both.
Which nicely brings me to our matter at hand. A gorgeous tobacco fragrance for men. Those old-cut ones, like Richard Widmark. Widmark looked quite a bit like my own grandfather, who wore Tabac Original by Mauer & Wirtz; there's poetic justice in the lives of perfumephiles, you see.
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Thus goes my review of the Premium II L'Eau de Parfum by Greek brand Korres. Issued in late 2014 and among the very good surprises of the beginning of this year, I realize that it's not exactly summer material (though you could wear it, why not), more of a flannel suit and fedora hat affair, yet it beckoned last week when the heatwave made everything smell so very intensely that I was sure I was either smelling fragrances from three blocks away or experiencing a case of phantosmia (sensing phantom smells). Please find my full review of this beautiful tobacco and woods cologne on this link. As always you're welcome to comment either here or there or both.
Wednesday, January 8, 2014
Patricia de Nicolai Amber Oud: fragrance review
Patricia de Nicolai is repositioning themselves (the new bottles being one of the hints), if intimations are any indication, and no luxury niche brand today is complete without a generous helping of the infamous oud perfume ingredient. Not that there were any audible borborygmi coming from our collective perfumista stomachs craving oud, but apparently a boy or a girl can never have too much oud; or so the aroma producing companies would make us believe. Amber Oud by de Nicolai however is oud prowling in kitten's paws, so delicate and purring you might be mistaken for thinking there is some problem with the labeling. Because Amber Oud is mostly a glorious aromatic amber fragrance with copious helpings of premium grade lavender fanned on resinous, plush notes of velvet.
The combination of amber (a 19th century trope resting on labdanum & vanillin) with oud/aloeswood is not unknown to niche or Arabian-inspired perfumes; if only in name, both Diptyque and by Kilian have utilized this blend to good effect (there's also the Rasashi and Arabian Oud brands). The nutty and musty character of the modern oud/aoud/oudh bases with their Band-Aid vibe is very well tempered by a tried & true combination that somewhat sweetens the bitterness of oud and renders it more Westernized and silky to the touch. Tonka bean and lavender is also "a marriage of true minds". This 2 by 4 is played like a quartet that produces a single harmony.
In Patricia de Nicolai's Amber Oud the blast of lavender at the beginning is the dominant force which takes you by surprise and which might make women think this is more men's gear than girly girl stuff. But they need not fear. Gents and ladies alike will appreciate the seamless procession into a balsamic smelling nucleus. The inclusion of sage is beautifully erogenous, recalling human bodies in sweat, cleverly juxtaposed with the washed brightness of the lavender and the camphorous hint of patchouli. Seekers of oud (lured by the name) might feel cheated and there is no eye-catching innovativeness in the formula itself, but de Nicolai is continuing on a path of wearable, presentable, smooth perfumes that have earned her brand a steady following.
Notes for Patricia de Nicolai Amber Oud:
Top: lavender, thyme, sage, artemisia
Heart: cinnamon, saffron, agarwood (oud), Atlas cedar, patchouli, sandalwood
Base: vanilla, tonka bean, styrax, musk, castoreum, amber.
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| via TheOtherAlice/Tumblr |
The combination of amber (a 19th century trope resting on labdanum & vanillin) with oud/aloeswood is not unknown to niche or Arabian-inspired perfumes; if only in name, both Diptyque and by Kilian have utilized this blend to good effect (there's also the Rasashi and Arabian Oud brands). The nutty and musty character of the modern oud/aoud/oudh bases with their Band-Aid vibe is very well tempered by a tried & true combination that somewhat sweetens the bitterness of oud and renders it more Westernized and silky to the touch. Tonka bean and lavender is also "a marriage of true minds". This 2 by 4 is played like a quartet that produces a single harmony.
In Patricia de Nicolai's Amber Oud the blast of lavender at the beginning is the dominant force which takes you by surprise and which might make women think this is more men's gear than girly girl stuff. But they need not fear. Gents and ladies alike will appreciate the seamless procession into a balsamic smelling nucleus. The inclusion of sage is beautifully erogenous, recalling human bodies in sweat, cleverly juxtaposed with the washed brightness of the lavender and the camphorous hint of patchouli. Seekers of oud (lured by the name) might feel cheated and there is no eye-catching innovativeness in the formula itself, but de Nicolai is continuing on a path of wearable, presentable, smooth perfumes that have earned her brand a steady following.
Notes for Patricia de Nicolai Amber Oud:
Top: lavender, thyme, sage, artemisia
Heart: cinnamon, saffron, agarwood (oud), Atlas cedar, patchouli, sandalwood
Base: vanilla, tonka bean, styrax, musk, castoreum, amber.
Thursday, September 26, 2013
Ormonde Jayne Montabaco: fragrance review
Possibly the most "masculine" leaning of the otherwise aimed at both sexes new collection The Four Corners of the Earth, it being a fougere, Montabaco by Ormonde Jayne is a perfume to capture the essence of Latin America: leather, suede, wood and tobacco leaf repeated over and over again creating a suggestive sensuality and Latino temperament. Basically what the typical westerner dreams of smelling at Havana or any such exotic port of call. Does it deliver a poker hand worthy of a gambler the repute of Jack Weil? I say it does, though in a cleaned up fashion, just like Redford is a cleaned up version of a seedy gambler in the first place.
The floral presence of magnolia, jasmine and rose are meant to soften the toughness of those unashamedly seductive, classic masculine codes for "macho." You can almost see the beautiful face of a Latin analogue of Tyrone Power behind the smoky rings of the tobacco. In our day and age, this is the only acceptable way to get your tobacco fix (mon tabac, get it?), but what a great way it is, eh?
The aromatics in Montabaco are fusing into the woody-fern ambience, giving it an odd freshness. Last but not least, thanks to the unerring fondness of perfumer Geza Schoen for Iso E Super, a woody-hazy-musky component in the base of many of his compositions, Montabaco (an Iso-E Super beast if there's one) radiates friendly vibes in a radius of building blocks and lasts extremely well, even it is noticed more by those coming into contact with you than yourself on you at all times.
Notes for Ormonde Jayne Montabaco:
top : air note, orange absolute, bergamot, juniper, clary sage,cardamom.
heart : magnolia, hedione, rose, violet, tea notes.
base : tobacco leaf, iso e, suede, sandalwood, moss, tonka, ambergris.
Available exclusively at the Ormonde Jayne London boutiques.
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| via pinterest |
The floral presence of magnolia, jasmine and rose are meant to soften the toughness of those unashamedly seductive, classic masculine codes for "macho." You can almost see the beautiful face of a Latin analogue of Tyrone Power behind the smoky rings of the tobacco. In our day and age, this is the only acceptable way to get your tobacco fix (mon tabac, get it?), but what a great way it is, eh?
The aromatics in Montabaco are fusing into the woody-fern ambience, giving it an odd freshness. Last but not least, thanks to the unerring fondness of perfumer Geza Schoen for Iso E Super, a woody-hazy-musky component in the base of many of his compositions, Montabaco (an Iso-E Super beast if there's one) radiates friendly vibes in a radius of building blocks and lasts extremely well, even it is noticed more by those coming into contact with you than yourself on you at all times.
Notes for Ormonde Jayne Montabaco:
top : air note, orange absolute, bergamot, juniper, clary sage,cardamom.
heart : magnolia, hedione, rose, violet, tea notes.
base : tobacco leaf, iso e, suede, sandalwood, moss, tonka, ambergris.
Available exclusively at the Ormonde Jayne London boutiques.
Wednesday, July 24, 2013
Scent on Canvas Noir de Mars: fragrance review
Noir de Mars, named after the iron oxide (PBk11) used in painting, is aptly referenced given the collection of new niche brand Scent on Canvas, hailing from Barcelona, Spain, is inspired by the chromatic nuances of pigments. Much like the pigment, which is a neutral, refined and dense black, blacker than carbon black, the fragrance of Noir de Mars is a thick and complex composition conceived by perfumer Jordi Fernadez, who utilizes note de jour i.e. oud/aoudh in a context that can please lovers of more traditional approaches: namely, it fuses the bitterish and musty nuance of the oud note into the ruggedly handsome bookends of oakmoss and leather. The result? A wonderfully nuanced, deep, individual fragrance that thankfully doesn't recall that cardinal sin of oud scents, "the Band-Aid note".
The scent of Noir de Mars leans more masculine than the rest of the Scent on Canvas collection as its name, mythologically laced, would suggest (and is indeed pegged as that by the company), yet offering a transitory unisex for women who do not like traditionally feminine compositions but like to challenge perceived perceptions. Needless to add Noir de Mars is something that most men would feel manly to wear. Its Laotian oud exotic impressions, leather notes and oakmoss bitterness reads as somber, quiet, a person of few words but plenty of charisma. The spicy woody halo speaks on its own. Noir de Mars is modern in the sense that oud scents are very “now”, but at the same time it avoids some of the pitfalls of following a trend too closely, thanks to a cluster of oriental references (cypriol, myrrh, Haitian amyris etc). This one needs more time to open up so the experience of the parfum should be given a leisurely amount of time to unfold its magic.
Notes for Noir de Mars by Scent on Canvas:
Top: Laotian oud, gaiacwood, sandalwood, cyperus sclariosus
Heart: gurjum balsam (dipterocarpus), leather, myrrh
Base: Haitian amyris, amber
Related reading on Perfume Shrine: Scent on Canvas Brun Sicilien
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| Pierre Soulages 1963 Huile sur toile, centre Pompidou via |
The scent of Noir de Mars leans more masculine than the rest of the Scent on Canvas collection as its name, mythologically laced, would suggest (and is indeed pegged as that by the company), yet offering a transitory unisex for women who do not like traditionally feminine compositions but like to challenge perceived perceptions. Needless to add Noir de Mars is something that most men would feel manly to wear. Its Laotian oud exotic impressions, leather notes and oakmoss bitterness reads as somber, quiet, a person of few words but plenty of charisma. The spicy woody halo speaks on its own. Noir de Mars is modern in the sense that oud scents are very “now”, but at the same time it avoids some of the pitfalls of following a trend too closely, thanks to a cluster of oriental references (cypriol, myrrh, Haitian amyris etc). This one needs more time to open up so the experience of the parfum should be given a leisurely amount of time to unfold its magic.
Notes for Noir de Mars by Scent on Canvas:
Top: Laotian oud, gaiacwood, sandalwood, cyperus sclariosus
Heart: gurjum balsam (dipterocarpus), leather, myrrh
Base: Haitian amyris, amber
Related reading on Perfume Shrine: Scent on Canvas Brun Sicilien
Thursday, March 28, 2013
Creed Green Irish Tweed (1985): Fragrance Review
~by guest writer AlbertCAN
This is my tenth year, in various capacities, within the fragrance industry. One does not come this far without hearing a tall tale or two over the years. Some printable; some unfortunately aren’t. Thus imagine my amusement a few years ago when George Clooney’s negotiation for fragrance licensing with Coty fell through, in part, because the asking fee was $30 million dollars.
Now don’t get me wrong: I’m sure Clooney had his sound rationales, and $30 million dollars would surely come in handy when buying a more secluded villa in Lake Como, with the privacy he had sorely missed when vacationing. With this being said it’s doubtful that I would need a copy of bottled George in the first place, for when I am compelled to take after the leading man —along with other cultural icons such as David Beckham, Russell Crowe, Pierce Brosnan, among others— I pull out my copy of Green Irish Tweed.
Officially Green Irish Tweed was created by master perfumer Pierre Bourdon for yet another leading man among leading men —Cary Grant. The chronology gets fuzzy beyond this point, however. He supposedly used it, though Grant would kick the bucket within a year after the fragrance introduction. Carbon dating the scent through its olfactory blueprint would be somewhat futile in this case, for it’s a green aromatic fougère that subtly influenced the masculine market for years, pointing to the future rather than its past. (But more on that later.)
Timeless doesn’t even begin to describe this scent, for Green Irish Tweed is working incredibly well for men of all ages. Just like the same Shakespearean passage could be interpreted so many different mannerisms and contexts, Green Irish Tweed somehow manages to give off a different spark in different situations: on a young lad, the vibrant and brash green opening; on a middle-aged businessman, the all-purpose aromatic earnest; and the golden men, the classic fougère base. That’s not to say that GIT lacks character, as it opens with a bracing rush of green and citrus elements such as lemon verbena. True to namesake fabric the nuances from the crunchy green really maintain the requisite masculine ruggedness; it’s as if one is meeting a true aristocrat, but instead of in the drawing room of his ancestral home it’s a chance meeting right before his polo match, brimming with confidence and vigor. Somehow I suspect geranium is in the mix, having picked up its presence among other similarly structured colognes, yet it’s not listed in the official notes: instead we have an interesting bunch consisting of violet leaves and vetiver making rounds before settling on the aforementioned fougère base along with sandalwood, ambergris and modern musk. Iris is in the mix too, although truth be told I still cannot decide its place: Creed lists it as a top note, whereas it's more of a heart note to my nose.
Now at this point readers with a modern olfactory palette would need some contexts before smelling this fragrance for the first time, for its idioms have been widely utilized ever since. The bookends of this fragrance, the green and the fougère, was to me referenced in Chanel Platinum Egoiste (1993), albeit in an arguably more acrid, slightly more high-pitched incarnation. Of course, Bourdon would also famously reprise the structural integrity of GIT by plugging in Calone into the mix, producing the watershed Cool Water for Men in 1988, just three short years after the release of the Creed.
Comparing Green Irish Tweed with Cool Water for Men is indeed a gentlemen pursuit worth partaking, for the differences are quite interesting. To me GIT is gentler in character, less intrusive than its marine sibling. Both perform quite well in diffusion and sillage, although Cool Water for Men balances out the freshness from Calone with a more assertive base in my humble opinion. Now much has been said about the use of Calone, the synthetic chemical first discovered by Pfizer in 1966 but left on the shelves for decades due to its bizarre slant: in high concentration its scent has been described as oyster like! Yet at a lower pitch it gives off a fresh marine impression with, depending on the context, melon or cucumber with a slightly saline dent. Yet Calone isn’t the magic pill within Cool Water for Men, as its similarities with the Creed imply. Of course, the Davidoff is more budget conscious, done with broader brush brushstrokes, but Bourdon’s signature touches are decidedly present in both. After all, the instrument alone doesn’t make a concert: neither in perfumery does the overdose of a novel ingredient take away from the thought process. We also pay for the perfumer’s time, not just for the sum of the bottled ingredients.
One notable difference, however: GIT layers very well with other masculine scents, not only with eaux de colognes but also quite interestingly with MUMAs. Because it doesn’t come in deodorants I tend to combine it with Terre d'Hermès deodorant stick. Mind you, I have even layered it beautifully with Chergui by Serge Lutens, with Chergui at the base and GIT right above, though looking back the combination is a tad assertive for my taste, fortifying the amber of the Lutens to an opulent, diffusive place I don’t normally venture—but then again conventional rules are out of the door at Lutens; I just dare not go that far.
For more information please refer to Creed’s official website.
This is my tenth year, in various capacities, within the fragrance industry. One does not come this far without hearing a tall tale or two over the years. Some printable; some unfortunately aren’t. Thus imagine my amusement a few years ago when George Clooney’s negotiation for fragrance licensing with Coty fell through, in part, because the asking fee was $30 million dollars.
Now don’t get me wrong: I’m sure Clooney had his sound rationales, and $30 million dollars would surely come in handy when buying a more secluded villa in Lake Como, with the privacy he had sorely missed when vacationing. With this being said it’s doubtful that I would need a copy of bottled George in the first place, for when I am compelled to take after the leading man —along with other cultural icons such as David Beckham, Russell Crowe, Pierce Brosnan, among others— I pull out my copy of Green Irish Tweed.
 |
| actor David Kelly in his green irish tweeds |
Officially Green Irish Tweed was created by master perfumer Pierre Bourdon for yet another leading man among leading men —Cary Grant. The chronology gets fuzzy beyond this point, however. He supposedly used it, though Grant would kick the bucket within a year after the fragrance introduction. Carbon dating the scent through its olfactory blueprint would be somewhat futile in this case, for it’s a green aromatic fougère that subtly influenced the masculine market for years, pointing to the future rather than its past. (But more on that later.)
Timeless doesn’t even begin to describe this scent, for Green Irish Tweed is working incredibly well for men of all ages. Just like the same Shakespearean passage could be interpreted so many different mannerisms and contexts, Green Irish Tweed somehow manages to give off a different spark in different situations: on a young lad, the vibrant and brash green opening; on a middle-aged businessman, the all-purpose aromatic earnest; and the golden men, the classic fougère base. That’s not to say that GIT lacks character, as it opens with a bracing rush of green and citrus elements such as lemon verbena. True to namesake fabric the nuances from the crunchy green really maintain the requisite masculine ruggedness; it’s as if one is meeting a true aristocrat, but instead of in the drawing room of his ancestral home it’s a chance meeting right before his polo match, brimming with confidence and vigor. Somehow I suspect geranium is in the mix, having picked up its presence among other similarly structured colognes, yet it’s not listed in the official notes: instead we have an interesting bunch consisting of violet leaves and vetiver making rounds before settling on the aforementioned fougère base along with sandalwood, ambergris and modern musk. Iris is in the mix too, although truth be told I still cannot decide its place: Creed lists it as a top note, whereas it's more of a heart note to my nose.
Now at this point readers with a modern olfactory palette would need some contexts before smelling this fragrance for the first time, for its idioms have been widely utilized ever since. The bookends of this fragrance, the green and the fougère, was to me referenced in Chanel Platinum Egoiste (1993), albeit in an arguably more acrid, slightly more high-pitched incarnation. Of course, Bourdon would also famously reprise the structural integrity of GIT by plugging in Calone into the mix, producing the watershed Cool Water for Men in 1988, just three short years after the release of the Creed.
Comparing Green Irish Tweed with Cool Water for Men is indeed a gentlemen pursuit worth partaking, for the differences are quite interesting. To me GIT is gentler in character, less intrusive than its marine sibling. Both perform quite well in diffusion and sillage, although Cool Water for Men balances out the freshness from Calone with a more assertive base in my humble opinion. Now much has been said about the use of Calone, the synthetic chemical first discovered by Pfizer in 1966 but left on the shelves for decades due to its bizarre slant: in high concentration its scent has been described as oyster like! Yet at a lower pitch it gives off a fresh marine impression with, depending on the context, melon or cucumber with a slightly saline dent. Yet Calone isn’t the magic pill within Cool Water for Men, as its similarities with the Creed imply. Of course, the Davidoff is more budget conscious, done with broader brush brushstrokes, but Bourdon’s signature touches are decidedly present in both. After all, the instrument alone doesn’t make a concert: neither in perfumery does the overdose of a novel ingredient take away from the thought process. We also pay for the perfumer’s time, not just for the sum of the bottled ingredients.
One notable difference, however: GIT layers very well with other masculine scents, not only with eaux de colognes but also quite interestingly with MUMAs. Because it doesn’t come in deodorants I tend to combine it with Terre d'Hermès deodorant stick. Mind you, I have even layered it beautifully with Chergui by Serge Lutens, with Chergui at the base and GIT right above, though looking back the combination is a tad assertive for my taste, fortifying the amber of the Lutens to an opulent, diffusive place I don’t normally venture—but then again conventional rules are out of the door at Lutens; I just dare not go that far.
For more information please refer to Creed’s official website.
Thursday, March 14, 2013
Prada Luna Rossa: Fragrance Review & On the Modern Urban Male Accord
~by guest writer AlbertCAN
History has a way of repeating itself, though from a pragmatic point of view it isn’t always monotonous. More and more I’m convinced that aesthetically modern perfumery shares a great deal of similarities with arts in the Shakespearean era: it’s not the originality of the subject matter that interests the audience as a whole, but the deliverance of a story or the treatment of the subject matter. After all, before Shakespeare there was Christopher Marlowe; before William’s “Troilus and Cressida” there was Geoffrey Chaucer’s “Troilus and Criseyde”. Likewise before Chanel Coco Mademoiselle there was Thierry Mugler Angel, Narciso Rodriguez For Her before Guerlain Idylle. I am, of course, by no means implying that there’s a modern perfumery equivalent of Shakespeare, Marlowe or Chaucer among us (‘tis not my place to ascertain), nor am I condoning blatant olfactory plagiarism, so unfortunately flooding the market these days. Rather, nowadays it’s all about the paradigm-shifting quarter turns.
Enter Luna Rossa: the latest woody-citrus masculine offering from Prada affirms to me the notion that we, as a civilization, has reached a consensus on the idea of how men of the early 21st century to smell like, so much so that I am terming the olfactory backbone “Modern Urban Male Accord”, or MUMA for short (after the cultural phenomenon “Sensitive Female Chord Progression”). I am by no means implying that Prada Luna Rossa is the archetypical benchmark of the story, but rather a reflection that the world has really reached the critical mass on this front long ago that a proposed cultural moniker is in order.
Prada Luna Rossa, created by perfumer Daniela Andrier and named after the brand’s America’s Cup Challenge team, is supposed to be an “unconventional marine fragrance” featuring lavender. The unconventionality here refers to the novel derivations of ingredients, for instance the mint: the Maroccan Mentha spicata var. crispa Nana, which made its perfumery debut in the blue special edition of Montblanc Legend by Olivier Pescheux. Further, I have observed the following critique on Scent and Chemistry’s facebook page:
Albeit being fresh and minty, spearmint also has a dirty side to it. Leave a blotter with any spearmint oil for a day, and it will smell 'dirty wet cloth' the next morning. This fate is quite a danger in any fragrance heavy on spearmint, but not so in 'Luna Rossa', where the spearmint is softened by vegetal and dusty rose accents, green angelica, and a papyrus/blond woods accord heavy on Iso E Super.
The lavender used is an absolute, though surely further treated after extraction to clear off the burnt-sugar nuance often associated with the material. Then there’s the requisite modern masculine base notes: musk (ambrettolide in this case) and ambergris in the guise of ambrox. The overall effect ticks all the right boxes: fresh, soft, clean and sporty.
How does the fragrance stand in terms of its olfactory genealogy? I would position Prada Luna Rossa to be a kissing cousin of Chanel Allure Homme Édition Blanche, also having an herbal-white musk-ambrox alignment. The mint motif also positions it to be the neighbourhood of Cartier Roadster. In fact, to the readers of this blog I can sum up the genre in three words—contemporary sports cologne—and many shall have a firm grasp of its overall feel and sillage. Thus we have a basic feel of the Modern Urban Male Accord.
Now I know many readers among us may bemoan the examination of the greatest cultural common denominator, but the rationale behind MUMA is worth pondering here. Decades before, when the idea of an ideal gentleman was different, we had the fougères and the chypres. Chanel Pour Monsieur, a fragrance many has considered to be a masculine archetype, is within the same era such as Monsieur de Givenchy. Then Christian Dior Eau Sauvage. Then Calvin Klein Eternity for Men, etc. Years from now, when the tastes of the general public have changed, MUMA would simply be a reference point from the past. This too, as they say, shall pass.
The heart of the matter is that men’s grooming and sartorial trends have always been slow and relatively unyielding in their evolutions. Conformity may be too harsh of a word here, but nowadays most men dress to blend in, not to significantly stand out, to shock. Having fashion retail experience I can report that most men don’t view clothes shopping their ideas of fun, preferring to get what they need in the store and moving on. I think the sociology and the marketing catering to the men is beyond the exploration scope of this article, but if consumers vote their ideas of what a modern man should smell like with their money, based on the recent releases we have a fairly good idea on our perception of MUMA.
Perfumer Jean Guichard once quipped that every good fragrance needs a ‘duo’, meaning the interplay of two contrasting ingredients. It’s a summary on fragrance construction, of course, but an elegant mean of understanding the basic principles nonetheless. As far as I can tell MUMA is the contrast between aromatics (geranium/mint/lavender etc.) with modern fixatives (white musk/modern amber/others). Add dihydromercenol for a fresh laundry effect, generic spice and some metallic nuances. Repackage and repeat.
Needless to say major launches from big houses rely on MUMA not because of its artistic merit, but rather under the cultural and social norms there isn’t a great deal of room to negotiate the artistic direction. Enlightened consumers, however, can choose to layer MUMA in interesting combinations; Prada Luna Rossa, for instance, works very well with Hermes Hiris, as I pleasantly discovered today. (Mint and iris, where have thou been all of my life?) There: a contemporary male fragrance does not need to be monotonous. How it can be used is a far more interesting exploration.
Photo: Prada Luna Rossa via Moody Report
Thursday, January 24, 2013
M.Micallef Royal Vintage: new fragrance
At the beginning of February, French niche house Parfums M.Micallef launches a new fragrance for man, ROYAL VINTAGE. It is a perfume aimed for men with timeless, sophisticated elegance.
Head note: Pink berries and bergamot
Heart note: Cypress and leather
Base note: Patchouly and musk.
“… For this atypical fragrance in our collection, I wanted to reinterpret the EXCLUSIVE bottle using the design codes of these beautiful vintage cars… " says Martine Micallef. "
The design of the ROYAL VINTAGE bottle was inspired by glamorous and iconographic images from the classic cinema universe: beautiful vintage cars adorned with glittering chrome bumpers. For this atypical fragrance in our collection, I wanted to reinterpret the EXCLUSIVE bottle using the design codes of these beautiful vintage cars, "says Martine Micallef. In the authentic French tradition of crafts and luxury, the M.Micallef Company gives priority to qualitative and natural ingredients in its fragrances and magnifies each bottle in its art studio. The glass bottle of ROYAL VINTAGE is covered with a chrome color metallization with a black ring hand affixed in the middle and is wearing a matte black metal cap.
quotes via press release 
Spray bottle in eau de parfum concentration, 30 and 100 ml retailing at 76 € and 175 € respectively.
Head note: Pink berries and bergamot
Heart note: Cypress and leather
Base note: Patchouly and musk.
“… For this atypical fragrance in our collection, I wanted to reinterpret the EXCLUSIVE bottle using the design codes of these beautiful vintage cars… " says Martine Micallef. "
The design of the ROYAL VINTAGE bottle was inspired by glamorous and iconographic images from the classic cinema universe: beautiful vintage cars adorned with glittering chrome bumpers. For this atypical fragrance in our collection, I wanted to reinterpret the EXCLUSIVE bottle using the design codes of these beautiful vintage cars, "says Martine Micallef. In the authentic French tradition of crafts and luxury, the M.Micallef Company gives priority to qualitative and natural ingredients in its fragrances and magnifies each bottle in its art studio. The glass bottle of ROYAL VINTAGE is covered with a chrome color metallization with a black ring hand affixed in the middle and is wearing a matte black metal cap.
quotes via press release 
Spray bottle in eau de parfum concentration, 30 and 100 ml retailing at 76 € and 175 € respectively.
Thursday, December 6, 2012
Divine L'Homme Infini: fragrance review
"A gentleman is simply a patient wolf."
~Lana Turner
William Thackeray, who knew a thing or two about snobs, wrote in Vanity Fair: "Which of us can point out many [gentlemen] in his circle – men whose aims are generous, whose truth is constant, and not only constant in its kind, but elevated in its degree; whose want of meanness makes them simple; who can look the world squarely in the face with an equal manly sympathy for the great and the small?"
L'Homme Infini deeply appeals to my own ideal of nobility, in the sense of an ideal human being; not lineage, but the couth ways, effortless elegance and received wisdom that should go with it. From its suave green-citrusy vetiver core with sweet, cozy, nutty undertones, to its piquant smoky pepperiness, the fragrance reads like an paean to masculinity; reassuring and dependable, a shoulder to lean on in hardship and a handsome cheek to caress when things go awry and a wistful tear is forming.
Yvon Mouchel, founder of Parfums Divine, has employed one of the young mavericks emerging in this medium, Yann Vasnier (a Givaudan perfumer working among others for Arquiste, Tom Ford, Marc Jacobs, Comme des Garcons and Parfums DelRae). Vasnier has a history of creating outstanding men’s scents for Divine (L'homme de Coeur, from 2002, for one), and L’homme infini, his latest creation for the line, a nutty-smoky vetiver woody scent, manages to entice and deliver both in terms of intellectual artistic integrity and of pleasing the senses. With L’Homme Infini, Divine expresses the idea that man has an infinite horizon of life before him.
No claims to seismic originality, but high praise for the deft of execution for this one.
On skin (male as well as female) L'Homme Infini wears very much like a beloved piece of clothing you want to wear to tatters, the gorgeous patina of effervescent skies, tall silvery trees, their branches like peaks of gothic churches reaching for the skies, for the divine, geosmin and human warmth trailing on fabric; craggy stones and flint, coarsely grated spices and the spraying droplets bursting out of orange rind, and woods, woods, woods...echoing in the distance.
The promise of mysteries yet to be discovered, the adventure only now beginning.
Divine L’homme Infini notes: Coriander leaf and grain, elemi, black pepper, oak, cedar, agar wood, vetiver, amber, benzoin
Available from November 2012 at the e-boutique, all Divine boutiques in France and at Luckyscent, Liberty UK, The Perfume Shoppe, Oswald Parfumerie and AusLiebeDuft. Check the brand's website for more information: http://www.divine.fr
In the interests of disclosure I was sent sample vials by the company
~Lana Turner
William Thackeray, who knew a thing or two about snobs, wrote in Vanity Fair: "Which of us can point out many [gentlemen] in his circle – men whose aims are generous, whose truth is constant, and not only constant in its kind, but elevated in its degree; whose want of meanness makes them simple; who can look the world squarely in the face with an equal manly sympathy for the great and the small?"
L'Homme Infini deeply appeals to my own ideal of nobility, in the sense of an ideal human being; not lineage, but the couth ways, effortless elegance and received wisdom that should go with it. From its suave green-citrusy vetiver core with sweet, cozy, nutty undertones, to its piquant smoky pepperiness, the fragrance reads like an paean to masculinity; reassuring and dependable, a shoulder to lean on in hardship and a handsome cheek to caress when things go awry and a wistful tear is forming.
 |
| Caspar David Friedrich. Abbey in the Oak Forest, 1810 |
Yvon Mouchel, founder of Parfums Divine, has employed one of the young mavericks emerging in this medium, Yann Vasnier (a Givaudan perfumer working among others for Arquiste, Tom Ford, Marc Jacobs, Comme des Garcons and Parfums DelRae). Vasnier has a history of creating outstanding men’s scents for Divine (L'homme de Coeur, from 2002, for one), and L’homme infini, his latest creation for the line, a nutty-smoky vetiver woody scent, manages to entice and deliver both in terms of intellectual artistic integrity and of pleasing the senses. With L’Homme Infini, Divine expresses the idea that man has an infinite horizon of life before him.
No claims to seismic originality, but high praise for the deft of execution for this one.
On skin (male as well as female) L'Homme Infini wears very much like a beloved piece of clothing you want to wear to tatters, the gorgeous patina of effervescent skies, tall silvery trees, their branches like peaks of gothic churches reaching for the skies, for the divine, geosmin and human warmth trailing on fabric; craggy stones and flint, coarsely grated spices and the spraying droplets bursting out of orange rind, and woods, woods, woods...echoing in the distance.
The promise of mysteries yet to be discovered, the adventure only now beginning.
Divine L’homme Infini notes: Coriander leaf and grain, elemi, black pepper, oak, cedar, agar wood, vetiver, amber, benzoin
Available from November 2012 at the e-boutique, all Divine boutiques in France and at Luckyscent, Liberty UK, The Perfume Shoppe, Oswald Parfumerie and AusLiebeDuft. Check the brand's website for more information: http://www.divine.fr
In the interests of disclosure I was sent sample vials by the company
Friday, August 24, 2012
Ramon Monegal Mon Patchouly: fragrance review
Mon Patchouly, part of the impressive new Ramón Monegal perfume collection from the former owner & perfumer of Spanish Myrurgia (since swallowed by Puig), straddles the line between woody oriental fragrance and oriental "gourmand", intended for people of either sex persuasion who love soft, rich, deep scents that invite you closer with a delicious Jon Hamm hum rather than proclaim their aggressive intentions with mock bravado. It's patchouli reinvented; traditional, yet new; an overdone fragrance note of the 2000s which here gains a precious, quietly exciting patina.
The association with the suave Midwestern actor is reinforced by the subtly retro "masculine cologne" hint ~with its herbal indefinable rosy touch under the musk and woods~ that Mon Patchouly exhibits, further enhanced by the rum & whiskey tonality it gains as it unfolds its dry cocoa powder opening on the skin. It's enough to induce daydreaming of more elegant times, when men were virile and women were femmes. Aside from the phenomenal lasting power of the fragrance on my wrists ~withstanding an entire extended weekend that involved 2 showers, one prolonged sea dip (!) and several hand washings, obviously~ Mon Patchouly is also distinguished by its variability according to the skin it performs on.
On my own feminine skin, this RM perfume sweetens, mollifying the intense gourmand dryness of French roast coffee dregs & cocoa of Borneo 1834 by Serge Lutens. Fans of Montale Boisée Vanille and L'Artisan Havana Vanille/Absolument Vanille might find a similar boozy, darkish, real vanilla pods note hiding; rich and resonant, full of complexity and sub-plots, sometimes the latter even slightly repelling but always compelling. On my significant other's male skin Mon Patchouly dried down more resinous ambery, though not quite the thick, beer-belly-amber we know from elsewhere; I detect a hint of raisin and smoke too which provide contrast, probably revealed by skin Ph magic. The fragrance has the right balance and artistry not to fall into the over-familiarized (Just think, how many sweet amber patchoulis can you name at gun point? This isn't one of them).
The mossier, greener, woodier elements come forth from the back like dark secrets of a life behind closed doors, trysts during lunch break and hushed phone-calls, while still retaining the cigar box elegance and connoisseur complexity. I'm absolutely sure that come autumn and winter, Mon Patchouly will be delegated on the very front of my perfume closet (alongside the more panseasonal marvel Mon Cuir of the RM line which I sport as I write and on which I will write a separate review), its snuggly warmth a comfort for hectic days when its escapist fantasy will consume my commute and daily chores. I just can't fathom how bind-blowing Ramon Monegal's Mon Patchouly will be on a mohair scarf shared between lovers...you'll have to wait for me to divulge in due time!
Bottom line: scrumptious! I'd love to get one of those beautiful inkwell bottles for myself.
Notes for Ramon Monegal Mon Patchouly: Patchouli, olibanum, oakmoss, geranium, jasmine, amber
Available at Luckyscent in eau de parfum concentration.
In the interests of full disclosure, I was sent a sample from the manufacturer.
 |
| via http://nowandthan.tumblr.com/post/19390848880 |
The association with the suave Midwestern actor is reinforced by the subtly retro "masculine cologne" hint ~with its herbal indefinable rosy touch under the musk and woods~ that Mon Patchouly exhibits, further enhanced by the rum & whiskey tonality it gains as it unfolds its dry cocoa powder opening on the skin. It's enough to induce daydreaming of more elegant times, when men were virile and women were femmes. Aside from the phenomenal lasting power of the fragrance on my wrists ~withstanding an entire extended weekend that involved 2 showers, one prolonged sea dip (!) and several hand washings, obviously~ Mon Patchouly is also distinguished by its variability according to the skin it performs on.
On my own feminine skin, this RM perfume sweetens, mollifying the intense gourmand dryness of French roast coffee dregs & cocoa of Borneo 1834 by Serge Lutens. Fans of Montale Boisée Vanille and L'Artisan Havana Vanille/Absolument Vanille might find a similar boozy, darkish, real vanilla pods note hiding; rich and resonant, full of complexity and sub-plots, sometimes the latter even slightly repelling but always compelling. On my significant other's male skin Mon Patchouly dried down more resinous ambery, though not quite the thick, beer-belly-amber we know from elsewhere; I detect a hint of raisin and smoke too which provide contrast, probably revealed by skin Ph magic. The fragrance has the right balance and artistry not to fall into the over-familiarized (Just think, how many sweet amber patchoulis can you name at gun point? This isn't one of them).
The mossier, greener, woodier elements come forth from the back like dark secrets of a life behind closed doors, trysts during lunch break and hushed phone-calls, while still retaining the cigar box elegance and connoisseur complexity. I'm absolutely sure that come autumn and winter, Mon Patchouly will be delegated on the very front of my perfume closet (alongside the more panseasonal marvel Mon Cuir of the RM line which I sport as I write and on which I will write a separate review), its snuggly warmth a comfort for hectic days when its escapist fantasy will consume my commute and daily chores. I just can't fathom how bind-blowing Ramon Monegal's Mon Patchouly will be on a mohair scarf shared between lovers...you'll have to wait for me to divulge in due time!
Bottom line: scrumptious! I'd love to get one of those beautiful inkwell bottles for myself.
Notes for Ramon Monegal Mon Patchouly: Patchouli, olibanum, oakmoss, geranium, jasmine, amber
Available at Luckyscent in eau de parfum concentration.
In the interests of full disclosure, I was sent a sample from the manufacturer.
Monday, June 18, 2012
Guerlain Songe d'un Bois d'Ete: fragrance review
Songe d' un Bois d'Été is perfumer Thierry Wasser's offer to the chthonian deities, a prophylactic philter for safekeeping from all miasmata. Simply wonderful rendition of the oud/aoudh perfume raw material, with none of the synthetic Band-Aid note that often creeps us in modern compositions touting the precious essence as a protagonist, Songe d' un Bois d'Été (i.e. Dreaming of a Summery Wood, part of Les Deserts d'Orient trio) is balanced and magnificent from all angles and can become a special man's ~or a woman's who loves woody somber compositions~ scented amulet.
Straddling the line between contemporaneous sensibilities and antique exotic traditions, it has the patina of aged woods and bronze artifacts hiding in some cave in the desert, yet its Frenchiness is undeniably there too; its exceptional craftsmanship is immediately evident, its restrained balance the work of experienced hands and a Swiss organized mind. You can read Guerlain in the fine print, even if the capitalization is in Arab calligraphy. There is no excess, no overindulgence, but an ornate "abaya" cloth which hints at the contours it hides, an oil painting in saturated burnished tones. Like Encens Mythique d'Orient, it proves Wasser's maturity and heralds good things for Guerlain.
The most Arabian-inspired in the newest Guerlain trio, this intensely woody fragrance smells alternatively parched and sweetish, revealing different facets throughout the duration on the skin; somewhat medicinal at times too, yes, but with smiling mien following the sobriety, like dark leathers laid in the sun underneath hanging dried herbs (I smell laurel and myrtle). Indeed the opening of Songe d' un Bois d'Été is balmy, pinching the nose with its herbal, aromatic, sunny quality, balancing the powerful woody elements of oud and leather pungency to follow. There is an indeterminate spicy, ashy-green segment, reminiscent of crushed cardamom pods that enter Arabian coffee and chocolate desserts (indeed a hint of chocolate can be attributed to the rising of patchouli from the base) and a stamen or two of leathery saffron (reminiscent of the treatment in Cuir de Lancome).
Mingling with the aromatic top notes, this spiciness provides the piquancy needed to lift the composition. The progression is somber, diffusive and saturated, (burnished cedar and Iso-E Super take a big percentage of the formula), with intense notes of oud chips burning (the note is reminiscent of the Mona di Orio perfumes oud ingredient), myrrh resin and lush jasmine sambac; the latter lightly sweetens the proceedings with its narcotic floral facets. Not necessarily the most innovative or driest leather fragrance (that would be Guerlain's Djedi), nor the greatest woody to ever come out of the house (that distinction probably belongs to Derby), but it is so carefully composed one can't help but admire it.
Songe d' un Bois d'Été is that rare thing: an predominantly oud wood fragrance that doesn't need to be unpleasant and bitter to tout its exoticism, to mark its seal of connoisseurship, to establish itself as niche. It simply exhales quality and mastery all around and is a delightful addition to any discerning perfume wardrobe. Admittedly a little bit masculine for most women''s tastes, but none the worse for it.
The Guerlain perfume bottles of Les Deserts d'Orient are adorned with Arab-cript calligraphy down one side, the French names down the other side. They are the tall, architectural style of the collection L'Art et la Matière with the antique gold overlay on the sides holding 75ml of perfume. The concentration of the fragrances is Eau de Parfum for tenacity. Prices are set for 190euros/AED990 per bottle. The perfume is available exclusive in the UAE and the Guerlain flagship store. Also via the connections of Wim in Parfumerie Place Vendome in Brussels.
Painting by Corrodi Hermann David Salomon, Arab Carpet Merchants
Straddling the line between contemporaneous sensibilities and antique exotic traditions, it has the patina of aged woods and bronze artifacts hiding in some cave in the desert, yet its Frenchiness is undeniably there too; its exceptional craftsmanship is immediately evident, its restrained balance the work of experienced hands and a Swiss organized mind. You can read Guerlain in the fine print, even if the capitalization is in Arab calligraphy. There is no excess, no overindulgence, but an ornate "abaya" cloth which hints at the contours it hides, an oil painting in saturated burnished tones. Like Encens Mythique d'Orient, it proves Wasser's maturity and heralds good things for Guerlain.
The most Arabian-inspired in the newest Guerlain trio, this intensely woody fragrance smells alternatively parched and sweetish, revealing different facets throughout the duration on the skin; somewhat medicinal at times too, yes, but with smiling mien following the sobriety, like dark leathers laid in the sun underneath hanging dried herbs (I smell laurel and myrtle). Indeed the opening of Songe d' un Bois d'Été is balmy, pinching the nose with its herbal, aromatic, sunny quality, balancing the powerful woody elements of oud and leather pungency to follow. There is an indeterminate spicy, ashy-green segment, reminiscent of crushed cardamom pods that enter Arabian coffee and chocolate desserts (indeed a hint of chocolate can be attributed to the rising of patchouli from the base) and a stamen or two of leathery saffron (reminiscent of the treatment in Cuir de Lancome).
Mingling with the aromatic top notes, this spiciness provides the piquancy needed to lift the composition. The progression is somber, diffusive and saturated, (burnished cedar and Iso-E Super take a big percentage of the formula), with intense notes of oud chips burning (the note is reminiscent of the Mona di Orio perfumes oud ingredient), myrrh resin and lush jasmine sambac; the latter lightly sweetens the proceedings with its narcotic floral facets. Not necessarily the most innovative or driest leather fragrance (that would be Guerlain's Djedi), nor the greatest woody to ever come out of the house (that distinction probably belongs to Derby), but it is so carefully composed one can't help but admire it.
Songe d' un Bois d'Été is that rare thing: an predominantly oud wood fragrance that doesn't need to be unpleasant and bitter to tout its exoticism, to mark its seal of connoisseurship, to establish itself as niche. It simply exhales quality and mastery all around and is a delightful addition to any discerning perfume wardrobe. Admittedly a little bit masculine for most women''s tastes, but none the worse for it.
The Guerlain perfume bottles of Les Deserts d'Orient are adorned with Arab-cript calligraphy down one side, the French names down the other side. They are the tall, architectural style of the collection L'Art et la Matière with the antique gold overlay on the sides holding 75ml of perfume. The concentration of the fragrances is Eau de Parfum for tenacity. Prices are set for 190euros/AED990 per bottle. The perfume is available exclusive in the UAE and the Guerlain flagship store. Also via the connections of Wim in Parfumerie Place Vendome in Brussels.
Painting by Corrodi Hermann David Salomon, Arab Carpet Merchants
Saturday, June 2, 2012
Hermes Equipage: fragrance review
If Calèche encapsulates perfumer Guy Robert's idea of a great taste feminine perfume, then Équipage is his idea of the perfect masculine; sober, handsome, restrained, graceful. These two Hermès fragrances embody both the house's easy, effortless elegance aesthetic (you can imagine them as "old money" contrasted with nouveau rich) and Guy Robert's idea that only a "lived-in" ambience about a scent makes it truly romantic; if you need more proof you can just test out Madame Rochas and his other marvels (Amouage Gold, Dioressence etc).
Scent Description
Aromatic, spicy and woody, the brief for Équipage was based on the success of Monsieur Rochas, composed by the same perfumer (Guy Robert) just one year prior, demanding the scent of a "cold pipe". Word has it that Jean Louis Sieuzac also worked on this one. The smokiness is there all right (I'm hypothesizing birch tar to give a smoked leather note, reminiscent of the Cuir de Russie type of scents), but there's pungent dryness instead of the usual rum casket fantasies of honeyed milky tobacco; such as the ones evoking languorous Turkish escapades that Lutens brings to his Fumerie Turque, to cite but one example. Liatris is an interesting note: it possesses both a herbaceous facet on one end and a hay & tobacco facet with only a subtly vanillic undercurrent on the other end, so it balances off nicely the bitter, pungent top notes of Équipage, reinforcing the concept of a smoking pipe.
Équipage is resolutely old-school and conservative smelling ~therefore probably anathema to anyone under 40, unless they have a perfume obsession~ and like an experienced acrobat balances between strength and finery, between the rustic herbs, the bitterness of the clary sage opening and the bite of cloves, on a base of smooth wood notes and a little sweet floral touch, a combination as dependable as a gentleman of the old guard. The florals cited in official notes description give only half the truth: the lily of the valley gives but crispness, the rosewood a profusion of linalool (that ingredient familiar from classic lavender), the carnation adds a clovey tint, as carnation composing was done by utilizing clove essence.
The true character of the fragrance evolves from the evolution of the aromatic, rustic and bitter herbal essences into rich woody, earthy notes in the drydown with a tinge of leather notes. In this it is in the same league as the equally magnificent Derby by Guerlain, which epitomizes the smooky woody fragrance genre; perhaps the Guerlain is a bit more balsamic and greener than the Hermès.
Who is it for?
I can vividly picture Équipage on a tweed-clad man out in the woods, lithe, supply riding his horse with his gun between horse bridles and saddle, leather lapels & patches on the jacket, having a good time only to return home when the sun is beginning to set. Perhaps it's so old-school that such a picture doesn't really seem ridiculous or overblown. Hermès at any rate likes to emphasize its "team player" name, showing the bottle over the photo of a rowing team. Cool, I get it. That's got to be some posh British college we're talking about, where the idea of a team spells dedication and loyalty and doesn't mess with anyone's individuality. Équipage smells perfectly individual nowadays, sticking like a diamond ring among graphite pencils, so perhaps my modern take is skewed. I suppose more men smelled in some variation of this liquid nectar back then....and oh boy, weren't those the times.
Équipage seems perfectly at ease on a smoker too, a heavy one at that, fusing with the remnants of the ashtray scent on the clothes into producing something delightful rather than repelling. No wonder in this age of cigarette demonisation Équipage looks like an outcast. Most interestingly this masculine eau de toilette works well in both the hot and cold season and lasts equally impressively, as it seems to morph to suit the weather. Winter brings out its crispness of sweet earth and woods. Summer heat highlights its cooling herbal, almost mentholated effect and its spicy kick.
I am a bit at a loss on how it would be possible to recommend it be worn by women, evocative as it is of virile-looking men like Sean Connery, however I have to share that I indulge myself in my vintage bottle more often than I'd care to admit. Perhaps there's something to be said about women embracing the idea of wearing a virile scent from time to time...
Vintage vs Modern Équipage
The vintage versions of Équipage bear a light brown cap with a screw top design; the modern is sparse, black, architectural. The modernised version, available at Hermès boutiques and department stores with a big selection of Hermès fragrances where you will have to ask for it by name, has attenuated some of the pungency and projection of this fragrance, without messing too much with its bouquet garni of herbs. If anything it's more citrusy and terpenic now than leathery, but not by much.
Notes for Hermès Équipage:
Top: bergamot, rosewood, lily of the valley, clary sage, tarragon, marjoram
Middle: jasmine, carnation, pine, hyssop, liatris (a herbaceous perennial)
Base: Vetiver, patchouli, tonka bea, amber
Scent Description
Aromatic, spicy and woody, the brief for Équipage was based on the success of Monsieur Rochas, composed by the same perfumer (Guy Robert) just one year prior, demanding the scent of a "cold pipe". Word has it that Jean Louis Sieuzac also worked on this one. The smokiness is there all right (I'm hypothesizing birch tar to give a smoked leather note, reminiscent of the Cuir de Russie type of scents), but there's pungent dryness instead of the usual rum casket fantasies of honeyed milky tobacco; such as the ones evoking languorous Turkish escapades that Lutens brings to his Fumerie Turque, to cite but one example. Liatris is an interesting note: it possesses both a herbaceous facet on one end and a hay & tobacco facet with only a subtly vanillic undercurrent on the other end, so it balances off nicely the bitter, pungent top notes of Équipage, reinforcing the concept of a smoking pipe.
Équipage is resolutely old-school and conservative smelling ~therefore probably anathema to anyone under 40, unless they have a perfume obsession~ and like an experienced acrobat balances between strength and finery, between the rustic herbs, the bitterness of the clary sage opening and the bite of cloves, on a base of smooth wood notes and a little sweet floral touch, a combination as dependable as a gentleman of the old guard. The florals cited in official notes description give only half the truth: the lily of the valley gives but crispness, the rosewood a profusion of linalool (that ingredient familiar from classic lavender), the carnation adds a clovey tint, as carnation composing was done by utilizing clove essence.
The true character of the fragrance evolves from the evolution of the aromatic, rustic and bitter herbal essences into rich woody, earthy notes in the drydown with a tinge of leather notes. In this it is in the same league as the equally magnificent Derby by Guerlain, which epitomizes the smooky woody fragrance genre; perhaps the Guerlain is a bit more balsamic and greener than the Hermès.
Who is it for?
I can vividly picture Équipage on a tweed-clad man out in the woods, lithe, supply riding his horse with his gun between horse bridles and saddle, leather lapels & patches on the jacket, having a good time only to return home when the sun is beginning to set. Perhaps it's so old-school that such a picture doesn't really seem ridiculous or overblown. Hermès at any rate likes to emphasize its "team player" name, showing the bottle over the photo of a rowing team. Cool, I get it. That's got to be some posh British college we're talking about, where the idea of a team spells dedication and loyalty and doesn't mess with anyone's individuality. Équipage smells perfectly individual nowadays, sticking like a diamond ring among graphite pencils, so perhaps my modern take is skewed. I suppose more men smelled in some variation of this liquid nectar back then....and oh boy, weren't those the times.
Équipage seems perfectly at ease on a smoker too, a heavy one at that, fusing with the remnants of the ashtray scent on the clothes into producing something delightful rather than repelling. No wonder in this age of cigarette demonisation Équipage looks like an outcast. Most interestingly this masculine eau de toilette works well in both the hot and cold season and lasts equally impressively, as it seems to morph to suit the weather. Winter brings out its crispness of sweet earth and woods. Summer heat highlights its cooling herbal, almost mentholated effect and its spicy kick.
I am a bit at a loss on how it would be possible to recommend it be worn by women, evocative as it is of virile-looking men like Sean Connery, however I have to share that I indulge myself in my vintage bottle more often than I'd care to admit. Perhaps there's something to be said about women embracing the idea of wearing a virile scent from time to time...
Vintage vs Modern Équipage
The vintage versions of Équipage bear a light brown cap with a screw top design; the modern is sparse, black, architectural. The modernised version, available at Hermès boutiques and department stores with a big selection of Hermès fragrances where you will have to ask for it by name, has attenuated some of the pungency and projection of this fragrance, without messing too much with its bouquet garni of herbs. If anything it's more citrusy and terpenic now than leathery, but not by much.
Notes for Hermès Équipage:
Top: bergamot, rosewood, lily of the valley, clary sage, tarragon, marjoram
Middle: jasmine, carnation, pine, hyssop, liatris (a herbaceous perennial)
Base: Vetiver, patchouli, tonka bea, amber
Thursday, February 16, 2012
Rochas Man: fragrance review
Few are the males ~and the masculine fragrances to accompany them~ that indulge into tipping their long toes (with a few stray hairs on them) into the gourmand pool where vanilla reigns supreme like a giant mother's breast offering precious comfort. Breast and beast don't mix. Or do they? Rochas Man (1999), no less because of its super suggestive bottle designed by Franzrudolf Lehnert and Michael Fõrster, which looks halfway between a rocket, a frosted glass tit-statue and a futuristic sex toy, proves otherwise.
The secret, woven by master perfumer Maurice Roucel, lies into constrasting the warmer, sweeter elements of vanilla with aromatic lavender (its medicinal and caramelic ends both exploited) and a dark-roast coffee note which he seems to have transported into his Bond No.9 New Haarlem composition. Thus he creates a hybrid: the gourmand fougère! I'm of course being creative; the fougère is a pliable enough fragrance family to include both warmer and cooler interpretations and its core of coumarin is sweet by itself.
Roucel is nothing if not one for opulence, but he manages to make even potentially cloying compositions (Hermes 24 Faubourg, Guerlain L'Instant pour Femme) shimmer and radiate rather than choke and oppress. Rochas Man, aimed at men but worn with intense pleasure by discerning women (especially those who like things like Dior Dune and L de Lolita Lempicka), takes the restrained qualities Roucel displayed in Kenzo Air and weaves in a hint of the animalic sensuality of his infamous Musc Ravageur. The touch of tang (which smells like Frambinone to me) further restrains the sweetness, while the distinct patchouli facets create intrigue in the final stages of the fragrance on the skin, giving an edge to the sweet notes. But if I were to compare it to something smelling similar, I'd peg the New Haarlem as a closer match (and a fifth of the price!) with a slice off Serge Lutens' lavender musky, sweet fougère in Fourreau Noir. Plus, in its toys for boys bottle, I hereby solemnly dub it "the Rocket Man Fragrance".
This Rochas is quite unlike the gentrified citrusy & peaty Rochas Moustache, engaging into more overt, urban foreplay. Its main advantage however is staying as close to the skin as is necessary for you to order another round of shots at the bar, prolonging the flirting enough to ensure that the female target is fully enraptured by your scented aura. She'll be smitten!
Available in department stores as eau de toilette, last I checked, and on many etailers for ridiculous prices.
still from the film Dr.Strangelove or How I Stopped Worrying and Learned to Love the Bomb by Stanley Kubrick via kubrickfilms.tripod.com
The secret, woven by master perfumer Maurice Roucel, lies into constrasting the warmer, sweeter elements of vanilla with aromatic lavender (its medicinal and caramelic ends both exploited) and a dark-roast coffee note which he seems to have transported into his Bond No.9 New Haarlem composition. Thus he creates a hybrid: the gourmand fougère! I'm of course being creative; the fougère is a pliable enough fragrance family to include both warmer and cooler interpretations and its core of coumarin is sweet by itself.
Roucel is nothing if not one for opulence, but he manages to make even potentially cloying compositions (Hermes 24 Faubourg, Guerlain L'Instant pour Femme) shimmer and radiate rather than choke and oppress. Rochas Man, aimed at men but worn with intense pleasure by discerning women (especially those who like things like Dior Dune and L de Lolita Lempicka), takes the restrained qualities Roucel displayed in Kenzo Air and weaves in a hint of the animalic sensuality of his infamous Musc Ravageur. The touch of tang (which smells like Frambinone to me) further restrains the sweetness, while the distinct patchouli facets create intrigue in the final stages of the fragrance on the skin, giving an edge to the sweet notes. But if I were to compare it to something smelling similar, I'd peg the New Haarlem as a closer match (and a fifth of the price!) with a slice off Serge Lutens' lavender musky, sweet fougère in Fourreau Noir. Plus, in its toys for boys bottle, I hereby solemnly dub it "the Rocket Man Fragrance".
This Rochas is quite unlike the gentrified citrusy & peaty Rochas Moustache, engaging into more overt, urban foreplay. Its main advantage however is staying as close to the skin as is necessary for you to order another round of shots at the bar, prolonging the flirting enough to ensure that the female target is fully enraptured by your scented aura. She'll be smitten!
Available in department stores as eau de toilette, last I checked, and on many etailers for ridiculous prices.
still from the film Dr.Strangelove or How I Stopped Worrying and Learned to Love the Bomb by Stanley Kubrick via kubrickfilms.tripod.com
Wednesday, February 1, 2012
Guerlain Habit Rouge: fragrance review
Sensual, warm, elegant, Habit Rouge was conceived by master perfumer Jean Paul Guerlain in 1965 when faced with a surprising and novel problem. Men who loved Shalimar perfume on their wives and lovers wanted a comparable powdery composition translated into a virile structure they would claim as their own. Thus Habit Rouge was born, the name alluding to the red jacket landed gentry loved to don on hunting days in the countryside and henceforth adopted for riding competitions.
Guerlain of course wasn't the first to associate horses with perfumes: Hermes was there before (beginning as saddlers), but it set an example for others later on, namely Ralph Lauren. The important thing is Habit Rouge quickly became a Guerlain classic, the exact antithesis of Guerlain's Vetiver in spirit and stance; a concept best encapsulated in a vintage ad proclaiming: "The Body, The Soul, a Guerlain cologne is for both" where the scents are described thus: "the agressive boldness of Habit Rouge, the understated elegance of Imperiale, or the subtle, penetrating depths of Vetiver".
The Scent and Structure of Habit Rouge
The magic synergy in Habit Rouge, a combination of resins and tree gums such as benzoin and opoponax, creates the photographic effect of a hazy glow all around the subject in an old black & white photograph. These resinous scents have the ability to deepen the voice, the equivalent of a lion's growl reverbrating over many kilometres to effortlessly mark its territory. Those elements form the basic oriental core of this formal, somewhat flamboyant but ultimately humanly sensual fragrance, lifted by traditional citrus notes in the opening (lemon, bergamot and mandarin alongside orange blossom) to mirror the idea in Shalimar, deepened with the spicy notes of cinnamon and carnation and burnished by the pungency of a little leather, which takes on suede smoothness rather than harsher or fetishistic nuances of hard-core leather fragrances. The whole smells like sweet orange talc, powdery and somewhat sweet.
Habit Rouge is mature and dense, yes, but such a wonderful aristocratic classic that its acquaintance simply should be made by younger generations.
On a woman, it can be deeply alluring!
Packaging
Habit Rouge follows the Vetiver presentation until 2000. (This was the year the latter changed its looks dramatically) Habit Rouge took the simple travel container and red-capped sixties style atomizers. In 1988 it changed into the briefcase-inspired Eau de Toilette flacon design by Robert Granai. It has stayed there ever since, its red label modernised by a slight simplification.
Reformulations and Comparison of Concentrations & Batches
Habit Rouge was recognisably reformulated in 2003, as evidenced by the change in packaging, coinciding with the launch of the Eau de Parfum concentration. It's still a great fragrance however in all its forms and worth chewing one's teeth on, man or woman.
Comparing Eau de Parfum (one of the rare masculine fragrances to come in such a concentration) to the most well-known form of Habit Rouge, the long-standing Eau de Toilette, the two almost overlap in the initial 20 minutes, with the citrus & orange blossom notes lingering somewhat more in the EDP. But after that phase the two diverge, with the EDP losing the orange blossom (which can give a soapy, clean feel), becoming spicier and muskier as it dries down with the addition of a modern "oud" note and a chocolate tinge, while the EDT retains the lighter "flou" character all the way through, making the EDT the perfect signature scent choice for any time, with the EDP being a bit heavier and therefore more reserved for formal evenings. It's also the most "modern" of all concentrations, somewhat skewing the retro feel of the Habit Rouge fragrance, so purists might want to consider that. The Eau de Toilette boast a big lemon-neroli accord o in the beginning and a soft, smooth suede note in the background, while on the whole it's the most powdery/dusty incarnation of the fragrance.
If you can find it, buy the limited edition Habit Rouge Parfum which tones down the powder and "cleaner" qualities in favour of a muskier, more leathery and camphor-nuanced scent like the vintage Shalimar meets Vol de Nuit.
Of special note is the traditional and vintage Eau de Cologne concentration, the original thing, which is the least "dusty" for those concerned with the powdery aspect of the scent, becoming crisper and more flesh-like vanilla oriental. The sensual aura of the Habit Rouge Eau de Cologne is surprisingly lasting, easily 6 hours on skin and therefore this is a concentration to acquaint yourself with if you're serious about perfume.
Habit Rouge also circulates in various limited editions (Beau Cavalier etc), on which we have posted news on these pages. According to Mr.Guerlain the batches come from: 1965, Dry '67, EdT '88, EdP 2003, Légère '05, Parfum '08, Sport '09, and L'Eau '11.
You can watch the official Habit Rouge L'Eau clip here.
Notes for Guerlain Habit Rouge:
Top: Lemon, Sweet Lime, Bitter Orange, Mandarin, Bergamot, Rosewood
Middle: Cinnamom, Patchouli, Pimento, Basil, Cedar, Carnation, Lavender
Base Note: Vanilla, Amber, Leather, Benzoin, Labdanum, Olibanum, Sandalwood, Leather accord.
pic Degas, Cavalier en Habit Rouge
The Scent and Structure of Habit Rouge
The magic synergy in Habit Rouge, a combination of resins and tree gums such as benzoin and opoponax, creates the photographic effect of a hazy glow all around the subject in an old black & white photograph. These resinous scents have the ability to deepen the voice, the equivalent of a lion's growl reverbrating over many kilometres to effortlessly mark its territory. Those elements form the basic oriental core of this formal, somewhat flamboyant but ultimately humanly sensual fragrance, lifted by traditional citrus notes in the opening (lemon, bergamot and mandarin alongside orange blossom) to mirror the idea in Shalimar, deepened with the spicy notes of cinnamon and carnation and burnished by the pungency of a little leather, which takes on suede smoothness rather than harsher or fetishistic nuances of hard-core leather fragrances. The whole smells like sweet orange talc, powdery and somewhat sweet.
Habit Rouge is mature and dense, yes, but such a wonderful aristocratic classic that its acquaintance simply should be made by younger generations.
On a woman, it can be deeply alluring!
Packaging
Habit Rouge follows the Vetiver presentation until 2000. (This was the year the latter changed its looks dramatically) Habit Rouge took the simple travel container and red-capped sixties style atomizers. In 1988 it changed into the briefcase-inspired Eau de Toilette flacon design by Robert Granai. It has stayed there ever since, its red label modernised by a slight simplification.
 |
| 2002 ad for Habit Rouge |
Habit Rouge was recognisably reformulated in 2003, as evidenced by the change in packaging, coinciding with the launch of the Eau de Parfum concentration. It's still a great fragrance however in all its forms and worth chewing one's teeth on, man or woman.
Comparing Eau de Parfum (one of the rare masculine fragrances to come in such a concentration) to the most well-known form of Habit Rouge, the long-standing Eau de Toilette, the two almost overlap in the initial 20 minutes, with the citrus & orange blossom notes lingering somewhat more in the EDP. But after that phase the two diverge, with the EDP losing the orange blossom (which can give a soapy, clean feel), becoming spicier and muskier as it dries down with the addition of a modern "oud" note and a chocolate tinge, while the EDT retains the lighter "flou" character all the way through, making the EDT the perfect signature scent choice for any time, with the EDP being a bit heavier and therefore more reserved for formal evenings. It's also the most "modern" of all concentrations, somewhat skewing the retro feel of the Habit Rouge fragrance, so purists might want to consider that. The Eau de Toilette boast a big lemon-neroli accord o in the beginning and a soft, smooth suede note in the background, while on the whole it's the most powdery/dusty incarnation of the fragrance.
If you can find it, buy the limited edition Habit Rouge Parfum which tones down the powder and "cleaner" qualities in favour of a muskier, more leathery and camphor-nuanced scent like the vintage Shalimar meets Vol de Nuit.
Of special note is the traditional and vintage Eau de Cologne concentration, the original thing, which is the least "dusty" for those concerned with the powdery aspect of the scent, becoming crisper and more flesh-like vanilla oriental. The sensual aura of the Habit Rouge Eau de Cologne is surprisingly lasting, easily 6 hours on skin and therefore this is a concentration to acquaint yourself with if you're serious about perfume.
Habit Rouge also circulates in various limited editions (Beau Cavalier etc), on which we have posted news on these pages. According to Mr.Guerlain the batches come from: 1965, Dry '67, EdT '88, EdP 2003, Légère '05, Parfum '08, Sport '09, and L'Eau '11.
You can watch the official Habit Rouge L'Eau clip here.
Notes for Guerlain Habit Rouge:
Top: Lemon, Sweet Lime, Bitter Orange, Mandarin, Bergamot, Rosewood
Middle: Cinnamom, Patchouli, Pimento, Basil, Cedar, Carnation, Lavender
Base Note: Vanilla, Amber, Leather, Benzoin, Labdanum, Olibanum, Sandalwood, Leather accord.
pic Degas, Cavalier en Habit Rouge
Friday, January 13, 2012
Lanvin Avant Garde pour Homme: new fragrance
Lanvin, a fashion house with an illustrious history in perfume releases, is issuing a new masculine fragrance, called Avant Garde.
"A woody, spicy and orientalised composition" developed by perfumer Shyamala Maisondieu (who's working at aroma-producing firm Givaudan) to be available in Eau de Toilette (50ml/1.7oz for 48 euros, 100ml/3.4oz for 70 euros and also in deodorant (18 euros). According to the perfumer: "The world that I’ve created for Avant Garde combines noble raw materials like vetiver and benzoin, with other surprising materials such as beeswax and tobacco. The spices? I have always loved working with them because you have to be able to handle them carefully to find the right amount, the right strength, of freshness, so that it is both spicy and incisive. I also played with a unique and powerful innovative note: Georgywood. This raw material, developed using the very latest technology, has woody amber tones which chime perfectly with the fragrance’s manly architecture”. Other notes include: Italian bergamot, Madagascar pepper, pink pepper and juniper, lavender, nutmeg, cardamom and beeswax absolute.
The new masculine cologne by parfums Lanvin will launch in February (it's online at the official Lanvin Parfums site).
The advertisement looks anything but "spicy and incisive", though, no?
The new masculine cologne by parfums Lanvin will launch in February (it's online at the official Lanvin Parfums site).
The advertisement looks anything but "spicy and incisive", though, no?
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