Showing posts with label myrrh. Show all posts
Showing posts with label myrrh. Show all posts

Wednesday, December 5, 2018

Caron Parfum Sacre Intense eau de parfum: fragrance review

Back when I was a teenager I developed a strong belief that "real" perfume was supposed to harken to its oriental roots and smell of the East; or at least what my west-laden eyes of the mind imagined a mythical East to be like. Parfum Sacre (sacred perfume, the quintessential notion of eastern scent), launched in 1991, at the cusp of the transition into the blander part of mainstream perfumery after a clashing cacophony of too many loud perfumes worn all together in the 1980s, and it sort of flopped commercially. But it was such a good execution that they have kept it. And when the Parfum Sacre Intense version rolled over by Parfums Caron in 2010 I admit I was greatly intrigued.

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There was a 1925 fragrance called Mystikum, by perfume Scherk, tagged "the mystery of flowers" of all things, and accompanied by a full range of body products in the coming years, but surely the name would fit Caron's perfume perfectly as well.

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I own a quite large decant of Caron's Parfum Sacre Intense (more like a purse spray), and I should quickly upgrade to a full bottle, but each time I use it I feel like a goddess on a pedestal, receiving rites of peppery spices and rosy sacrifices upon a sacrificial altar, while myrrh fills the atmosphere with the solemnity of religion. The myrrh is especially warm, bittersweet, with no powdery after-effects, so it doesn't project as "clean" or "groomed" rather than sombre and liturgical, but it's the alliance of spicy rose with musk which makes the real message of devotion to a higher being. For once, rose sheds its prim guise and reveals a throbbing heart full of thorns.

I dig this kind of ritual and therefore Parfum Sacre Intense aims for the sweet spot. Touchée.



I just wish they hadn't changed the bottle, from the glorious deep purple with the peppercorns into the blander columnar ones they have used when revamping the line a couple of years ago...


Friday, November 18, 2016

Annick Goutal Myrrhe Ardente: fragrance review

Amidst perfumes with dominant myrrh Myrrhe Ardente makes for sharp contrast. Indeed Myrrhe Ardente (perfervid myrrh) by Annick Goutal had a totally different approach than either Serge Lutens La Myrrhe or Keiko Mecheri Myrrhe et Merveilles. There was no attempt of dressing an apocryphal smell into classic tailoring to render it wearable by a modern sensibility.

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On the contrary, the element of myrrh was taken as a significant nod to the sweeping genre of Orientalism that marked the late 19th century and which almost singlehandedly - if we count Guerlain and Houbigant as those influenced by it -  gave us modern perfumery.

Camille Goutal then and her perfumer Isabelle Doyen began with a beautiful thesis proposition in 2007: how would oriental bath rituals of the harems (as seen in paintings by Ingres and the rest of the masters of the times) translate into scents? The sensuous Les Orientalistes line was born; initially a line of three fragrances for women or men which included Ambre Fetiche, Myrrhe Ardente and Encens Flamboyant. By the next year, another addition to the line increased the number by one: Musc Nomade; a vegetal musk which I count among my most favorites, built on ambrette seed.
They're all sensual fumes, molding themselves into the idea we have of the Orient and it seems to me (only a casual observation which might be proven wrong) that people seem to prefer either the opulent Ambre or the densely smoky Encens out of the quartet. My own preference lies to the outsiders.

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The Goutal fragrance implores us to look upon myrrh with eyes sooted with the blackest black of the lamp which burns lighting up the harem and to adorn our body with oils which speak of a thousand caravans carrying mysterious cargo across the Middle East. It makes me think of Loti; not Plato. The sweet facets brought out by the addition of benzoin and beeswax bring out a sticky "cola" note which is not at all at odds with the natural shade of the essential oil of myrrh. The gentle smokiness rendered by the earthy woody notes of vetiver is a welcome reminder that we're dealing with something that harkens back to the roots of perfumery; "through smoke".

Thursday, November 17, 2016

Keiko Mecheri Myrrhe et Merveilles: fragrance review

When it comes to Keiko Mecheri's Myrrhe et Merveilles the thrill of the unexpected in meeting myrrh in a modern formula is fractured into a thousand pieces. La Myrrhe by Serge Lutens just had it for lunch. For a long time I felt that the Mecheri line followed the Lutensian opus a bit too closely for comfort; it felt like glorified duping and if one is going that way why not admit it... I thought. But thankfully testing and retesting for the purposes of really getting an education on myrrh, I saw the error of my ways and finally came to appreciate this Mecheri fragrance for what it is: a luxurious and somewhat aloof soapy myrrh; one which showcases the element quite well without the mushroom earthiness of La Myrrhe.

by Taras Loboda, Ukrainian painter, 1961 via

If you squeeze your eyes a bit and look at it that way, Myrrhe et Merveilles might start giving you impressions of classic YSL Opium. It's only a slice of its hot iron hiss on a white starched shirt but it's plenty. The floral heart is rather spicy like carnations and almond blossoms smothered in musk. The musk is so prominent that the compoisition feels silken. Powdery almost. The "merveilles" (i.e. wonders) manifest themselves through the details, but they're enough to differentiate it from its mystical predecessor.

If your track record in orientals is good so far Myrrhe et Merveilles can only enhance it. 

Wednesday, November 16, 2016

Serge Lutens La Myrrhe: fragrance review

Frankincense is met at the church as the censer spreads the fragrant smoke in the congregation. Myrrh is met at asketaria; monastic places of anchorites who end up their days exuding the smell of sanctity...or so witnesses say. In the iconoclastic La Myrrhe by Serge Lutens myrrh takes center stage given a centripental force spin which makes you lean your neck all the way up to there to just observe the gracious arc before it plunges into bittersweet soap¨aldehydes play their part with bravado. The overlaying accents of mandarin and honeyed notes melt's La Myrrhe's bitter resinous heart into the illusion of prettiness. When in fact it's a compellingly strange study in contrasts.

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The word "demon" (δαίμων) means spirit or divine power replete with knowledge in classical Greek mythology; at least up to the Neo-Platonics. Hence Socrates's famous claim of "being true to his inner demonium" and Diotema's lesson to him in Plato's Symposium that "love is a greater demon". Is myrrh therefore a demon? An entity between material (mortal) and spirit (divine knowledge)?

Myrrh is indeed someplace between the two; its very nature bears this duality. On the one side a numbing of the senses; a narcotic hedone that lulls the pain. On the other a scourging bitterness that reminds us of the pain of life. Two isomers that share the same structure arranged in different ways; two faces of Janus.
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Lutens and his perfumer sidekick Christopher Sheldrake were therefore the first to showcase the Janus-like nature of myrrh for all its worth in their epoch making creation. Experiencing La Myrrhe takes multiple uses to savor the bittersweet elements and the waxy-aldehydic shimmer that glistens upon skin application. I very much doubt I was fully aware of the complexity and irony built into it when zooming on the reddish liquid and paying for it that momentous time back. It must have been pure instinct or the patron saint of perfumery St. Magdalene who guided my young hand; it was my very first "bell jar" out of the purple seraglio in the Palais Royal and it marked me with its duality ever since.

Wednesday, December 2, 2015

Annick Goutal Les Absolus 1001 Ouds: fragrance review

Not unfittingly I had waited till I had written my articles on myrrh resin before writing my full perfume review of the latest Annick Goutal 1001 Ouds fragrance in the Les Absolus range. That's because rather than being a fully fledged oud/aoudh fragrance this oriental elixir features myrrh in a key player position.

photo Vitor Schietti

The trend for oudh has been going strong and every brand has embraced the innovations of the fragrance industry. Some say this particular trend is an unpardonable sin (and indeed only Chanel seems impervious to the flummox as of this moment) so an oud-centric perfume from Annick Goutal did not spell optimism in my heart of hearts. Especially as the combination of oudh with rose has been the hallmark of tried and tested combinations surgically transplanted from Middle Eastern perfumery -where they thrive in local blends- and then watered down for western usage.
Nevertheless 1001 Ouds in Les Absolus d'Annick Goutal managed to not fulfill the desire for apostasy that ran in the back of my mind. Two key ingredients which are featured in a clever way by perfumer composer Isabel Doyen are responsible for the rekindled interest.

Myrrh resin, bittersweet and poignant, is restraining the stomping boots of the oudh note. Thankfully as most contemporary oudh compositions, lacking the complexity of a traditional oudh perfume essence, run the risk of coming across as rather aggressive (the dreaded Band Aid note) and a little too invasive, like a stranger in leather gear on public transport making intense eye contact out of the blue. The woody effect given by papyrus wood is slightly smoky, the feel of a distant campfire rather than having the barbecue right on the lawn.

Rose phobics or those who do like rose but dread the engulfing tentacles of it when combined with usual suspects sandalwood or oudh in an Arabian setting need not be scared. The rose in 1001 Ouds by Annick Goutal is providing a softened, mellowed bridge between the more challenging ingredients, polishing the corners and smoothening the edges. This well known perfumers' trick works especially well here; one doesn't really discern the rose, only the humming warmth and glow that resembles a copper-toned lipstick on an olive skinned lady.

As might be suspected by the notes 1001 Ouds leans to the shared fragrances side of the spectrum and men and women alike would enjoy it without problems. In fact the creative team at Annick Goutal present the Les Absolus trio as a lovers' shared sensuous experience and they couldn't be closer to the truth. These are warm, soft, enveloping fragrances to share with those you cherish the most.

As with the rest of Les Absolus, beautiful presentation, demanding prices.

Related reading on Perfume Shrine:
Annick Goutal fragrance reviews and news
Oud/Aoudh/Agarwood: perfume raw material
Les Absolus d'Annick Goutal: perfume reviews 

Tuesday, December 1, 2015

Myrrh: Mythology and Culture

Sacred among essences the resin of the Commiphora myrrha tree grows in the solitary desert weeping its fragrant tears for that which could not be. From the wandering girl Myrrha to the practices of embalming and mummification and the anointing of priest king and lover alike, myrrh is among the most fascinating essences in perfumery and I am pleased to be able to offer my readers who had asked about it two articles investigating its mythology origins and the cultural significance it played in western civilization.

Here is the first part: The Myriad Muses in Myrrh: Mythology ~A tale of lust, incense and guilt.

And here is the second part: The Myriad Muses in Myrrh: Culture ~Between sanctity and carnality.

These are going to be followed by a third part focusing on perfume reviews of my favorite myrrh-centric fragrances.

And let me grab the opportunity to mention those are both part of my new steady column (une rubrique) on Fragrantica especially for my historical articles, besides any other content I provide on the webzine. You can find them on the collective link 1001 Past Tales.

Friday, July 11, 2014

Serge Lutens L'Orpheline: fragrance review & sample draw

Much like the mysterious (and incestuous) half-sister in Leos Carax's  radical adaptation of Melville's Pierre: or, the Ambiguities (1852) in "Pola X", the specter of the missing family member being visited while in almost somnambulist state, L'orpheline (the orphan girl), the latest Serge Lutens fragrance, becomes "un visage….sans age…une souffle, une presence" (a face…ageless…a breath, a presence) which disrupts the flow of a seemingly smooth, luxurious life with its secret of a tormented and deprived past. And again much like the play of light & darkness throughout the film by Leos, L'orpheline presents a play between the cool and warm register, between madness creeping underneath love, and between comfort emerging where you least expect it. Like Pierre, Lutens, you see, views himself as an artist in love with reckless gestures, only thankfully his charm lies not in any thorough immaturity. On the contrary, he has revealed intimate, personal stuff to us with the maturity that comes from acceptance.


Serge presents the new perfume in these words written in a vertical sequence: " Friable mais entière.À demi-mot, son nom se fêle. Avant la brisure, les deux premières syllabes portent le nom du poète qui même pouvait charmer les pierres. " Lutens of course winks at Orpheus, the legendary Greek poet and prophet who charmed every being with his music and tried to retrieve his wife, Eurydice, from the dead by way of his skills, only to meet with his own death from those who could not hear his divine music…which ties with the cryptic text he has written on L'Incendiaire, his other fragrant release, in a new "golden line", announced here a while ago. How's that for two shots with one stone?

Does Serge try to bring back his repressed beloved, his mother, a small bit at a time, with each of his fragrances? Possibly. Lutens is a grown Remi (after Malot's "Sans famille"), on a journey of the roads of France, on a journey of the roads of perfume. And like Carax or Rivette or any master of that school, he certainly takes his time into letting us share his journey.
The poetic concept of the "orphan", "fragile but whole" (this is a French expression that really loses in the translation), is inspired by Lutens's own childhood, "of ashes" and rage, his painful memories of being raised without a mother and abandoned by his father, though the change of sex in the fragrance name suggests a Freudian transposition regarding the significance of the Father (as suggested by Lutens himself). He conflates the male with pain ("le Mâle : le mal"), an Oedipal symbolism that doesn't go amiss. Nor is it intended to.


For this coolish and quiet fragrance (sequentially warmish, like Gris Clair) named  L'Orpheline, Lutens and his sidekick perfumer Chris Sheldrake focus on incense notes, not as cold and soapy as in L'Eau Froide, neither as spicy warm and shady as in Serge Noire, but somewhere in between; entre chien et loup, between daylight and darkness. Frankincense, the impression of bittersweet myrrh and peppery-acrid (elemi? cumin? ginger?) rather than clove-y carnation notes seem to rise, a cross between spirituality and carnality? Lutens knows how to marry contradictions and swath the opulence of orientalia into Parisian refinement. The spicy note in the heart reminds me of a mix between mace and cumin, reminiscent of both Secret Obsession (the now discontinued Calvin Klein fragrance) and a lighter Serge Noire by Lutens.

Yet the end result in L'Orpheline is apart; neither a true Moroccan oriental like hardcore Serge fans have built an online cult out of, nor a classically French perfume for the salon, but a mysterious, vaporous emanation "between the storm and clear skies", between the ashes of the past and the uncertainty of the future, a Delacroix painting, a dwindling match leaving embers behind. The peppery accent on the incense reminds me of the treatment of carnations in Oeillet Bengale (one of the best releases of the year so far) while the musky underlay is soft, subtle, meditative and not entirely without a certain poignancy.

L'Orpheline would suit anyone who like Pierre "had been waiting for something", regardless of their sex. Haven't we all?


L'Orpheline is an haute concentration fragrance, meaning more concentrated than the beige label ones, belonging in the "black line" of the so called "export range" by Serge Lutens. It will retail at 99 euros for 50ml, is already at the Palais Royal and eboutique and will be widely launched internationally on September 1st.

One sample out of my own decant to a lucky reader commenting below. Draw is open till Sunday midnight.

Wednesday, January 22, 2014

Teo Cabanel Barkhane: fragrance review & free perfume draw

There are generally speaking three directions on amber, that perfumery trope which although reminiscent of alembicated elixirs derives in reality from the late 19th century and its advances in chemistry. Roughly, much like human body types, there is the thick-set endomorph, vanillic and zaftig amber, often powdery but a little too snuggly the way a favorite aunt suffocated you as a child when she tried to hug you; there's the linear ectomorph, naturally rail-thin and giving only a hint of an oriental, fit for people who consider sipping a latte as having the equivalent of a dessert orgy only the calories fly off their cage-like backs (Marc Jacobs Amber Splash I'm looking at you); and finally the elusively callipygean mesomorph, its discovery as awe inspiring as the realization of the protagonist in They Live, an amber that's got to be extra-terrestrial, since there's no other explanation for its perfect, almost perverse precision and special abilities.
photo by Francesco Middei for National Geographic via Pinterest (Namibia sand dune)

Some of my favorite ambers belong to that last category, managing the trick via either a generous helping of herbal accents (Ambre Sultan by Lutens is the crowning example) or a devious splattering of incense notes, via frankincense or myrrh (Ambra del Nepal or Angelique Encens are decent examples.)        

Barkhane belongs to this special category, a foudroyant amber perfume both thanks to its transparent treatment of the labdanum (cistus)-vanillin pairing and the bittersweet myrrh resin which illuminates it the way vitraux illuminate a cathedral. From a distance Barkhane suggests repetition, since Alahine (Cabanel's 2007 fragrance) was also a terrific amber. But it is not, since it lacks the rosy floralcy and the woody element, as perfumer Jean-Francois Latty here focused instead on the introduction of a tempered oud note which tilts it into the slightly medicinal, more masculine or unisex territory. There is also a notable spicy component (reportedly built on cumin and curry notes) which melds with the myrrh.

Last but not least: the lasting power is phenomenal for something so well balanced and, yes, at its fighting weight.

Barkhane is the latest fragrance by niche French brand Teo Cabanel, re-introduced recently in the States and repackaged to new heights of luxury under the direction of heiress Caroline Ilacqua. The fragrance's name derives from the naturalist Alexander von Middendorf, who used it to describe "the smooth velvety dunes which gently ripple under powerful desert winds".

I have a self-bought* large sample for one lucky reader in Europe/rest of the world. If you're in the USA, thanks to Hypoluxe Inc.'s generosity, there's the option of one BIG 1/2oz spray for ONE lucky winner and 15 sample vials for 15 more winners. 
Please enter a comment saying your opinion on amber fragrances and if you have a favorite/Kryptonite one and please state whether you're in Europe/USA/rest of the world. 
Draw is open till Thursday midnight, winners to be announced sometime on Friday.
(*The company did send me another one for reviewing purposes)

Tuesday, December 3, 2013

Arte di Profumi Harem Soiree: fragrance review

The ember glow of a dying fire shining through the window of the yalı, the iodine assault of intensely animalic ingredients brought in by the breeze, medicinal unguents resting atop a mahogany shelf at the darüşşifa, eroticism beyond coy or playful, an arrow heading straight to the heart, drama unfolded in one astounding act. The prelude of an unforgettable moment. Far too wild to be tamed and loaded with panache, its presence is unmistakeable. Its name? Harem Soirée.


Mala Fatra, Slovakia, 1963, Vilem Heckel. Czech (1918 - 1970)
via

Harem means the forbidden and beyond the feverished Western Europeans'* dreams of physical love conducted in exotic locales of Eastern promise, it signified the living quarters of the Sultan and his family during the Ottoman rule, a place where no access was granted to outsiders.
[*such as J.A.D.Ingres, Pierre Loti or Lord Byron]

Harem Soirée is tied to ambergris (all Arte di Profumi Roma fragrances have a "star" ingredient featured on the label) but that's clearly not the whole story. Besides being profoundly animalic, the daring scent is full of the concentrated essence of labdanum, with only a very distant hint of that other "amber" ingredient, vanilla. The treatment of this iconic oriental chord is pitch black, resinous smelling, dark as the cloth of the night, dangerous and medicinal as if stemming from prophylactic pharmacopeia, vaguely reminiscent in mood of Ambre Sultan, but even darker and denser with bittersweet myrrh; cuffs of lead rather than iron. Its very austere and dramatic character, with no concessions to the fruity bowl or the dessert trolley, make Harem Soirée a perfect backdrop for discerning gentlemen or women with the rush of adventure fanning their wings.

The name is referencing the shows put by women dancers as well as the 1999 Turkish film by the same name (Harem Suare).

The perfume along the rest of the Arte di Profumi Roma line is available from Jovoy Paris and Ausliebezumduft online.


Thursday, November 14, 2013

Laura Biagiotti Roma: fragrance review

Roma by Laura Biagiotti belongs to that outré category of scents that lend themselves well to brumous days and which were apparently marking their territory throughout the 1980s by fusing a minty, agrestic top note with an orientalized amber on the bottom. The initial impression, if you don't know the perfume beforehand, is somewhat alarming, as if the fragrance is starting to go off, but that weird tension is fully itentional. Must de Cartier (which weaved galbanum on top) and Dune by Dior (with its broom and monastic herbs) are two other perfumes which share kinship (and so is Fifi Chachnil). But Roma (1988) is less discussed about than either one, possibly because Cartier has luxury cachet thanks to the jewelry side of the business and Dune is sort of a cult thanks to renewed interest following good reviews. Such is the fate of some worthwhile but under-appreciated fragrances but this is precisely why I intend to highlight more of them on Perfume Shrine in the following weeks. (How about an Underrated Perfume Day featured regularly?).

via Patricia C./Pinterest

Though Biagiotti's Roma smells decidedly "Italian" (warm, golden fragrances that extol the pleasures of being human and alive) it doesn't necessarily lend itself to the classical image of either the Eternal City, la passeggiata or the column-styled bottle meant to kitschify the many adorning the Forum. (In that regard I prefer the vintage images of Fendi with the Raphaelite model kissing the statue).
Nevertheless the tag line has always been "un soffio d'eternità" which my rusty Italian translates as "a breath of eternity". Considering it has outlasted other fragrances that came and went, after 25 years on the market it feels like an eternity all right, in a good way. It's rather unsettling nevertheless to think I used this during heavy flirtation so many years ago, one memorable summer with bathing suit changing cabins on the shore a dark silhouette over the sea's horizon and the crushed chamomiles littering my pockets. More things change, more they stay the same, I suppose.

The greenish pungent top note in Laura Biagiotti Roma, recalling spearmint-on-acid and sassafras, very quickly gives way to the balsamic scent materials (myrrh and amber especially) that immediately rise to the surface, almost swamping the bridge flowers in deep sticky goo. But there is a lasting citrusy element which consolidates a classical oriental fragrance feel. My old bottle additionally features an inky note of oakmoss, earthy and bitterish, that is perfectly tempered with the myrrh resin (in itself bittersweet), creating a contrast that keeps me interested for the duration of Roma on my skin. If you like the amber coziness drydown of CK Obsession, Dune or Must you will find a good alternative in Roma.

via Michele Tiscini/Pinterest

In recent reformulation the moss in Roma is toned down, as are the animalic elements (civet), and the fragrance feels somewhat sweeter and lighter in volume to me, which subtracts something of its original charm and potency (Typical I should say for a Procter & Gamble owned company). Still, it's different enough than most fruitchouli scents on department store shelves nowadays and therefore worth trying out for yourself.
Although marketed to women (having a traditionally "plush", warm, silky skin feeling that reads as feminine), I believe the tension between the top notes and bottom lends itself well to male skin as well. Though Laura Biagotti has a Roma pour homme as well, the feminine is delicious on discerning gentlemen.



(*This is beautiful, but I find the acting a bit corny, don't you?)


Notes for Laura Biagotti Roma:
Top notes: black currant, Sicilian bergamot, pink grapefruit, mint and hyacinth
Heart: carnation, jasmine, lily-of-the-valley and rose
Base: amber, sandalwood, patchouli, musk, civet, vanilla, oakmoss and myrrh.


Tuesday, April 16, 2013

Neela Vermeire Creations Trayee: fragrance review

Incense has long been not only one of the badges of niche perfumery, but also one of my own personal hot buttons, so it sounds both logical and anticipatory that a fledging niche line would want to include a declination of the genre in their wares. But when said genre is harnessed by perfumers of the calibre of Bertrand Duchaufour and infused with the phantasmagoria which must be Neela Vermeire's  creativity  then the resulting fragrance feels the way a kanchipuram saree looks: intricate, ever changing effect when the journey of the light, beautiful. Trayee (pronounced try-ee) is much more than an incense blend, which is no mean feat, given that incense is a difficult material to work with in the first place. But its intricate treatment must endear it to aficionados.

via wikimedia commons

Trayee is part of the original trio of fragrances issued by Neela Vermeire Créations which also includes Mohur and Bombay Bling (the fourth instalment, Ashoka, is launching soon). These Indian inspired perfumes, like Chants of India, draw upon the tradition, history and cultural milieu of that vast Eastern sub-continent in which Neela herself has roots. With Trayee rooted in the Vedic tradition (and utilizing several of the materials mentioned in the holy texts) I was instantly brought back to my university freshman year, when World Civilization was on the agenda under a highly idiosyncratic professor, himself the embodiment of intertextuality & erudition. That was the time when I briefly entertained the idea of learning Sanskrit, though it soon transpired it'd be full time job. But such was the pull that the the Sutras and the Ramayana and their colorful, conflicted and spiritual world had exerted on me and some of my fellow students.

I'm saying all this to atone for coming extremely late to the buzz around Neela Vermeire's creations, having had compartmentalized the perfumes in the "one day" mental drawer. That day came when Neela and I reconnected via Twitter. I say "reconnected" because Neela was, like me, part of the old guard of Makeup Alley: she has a genuinely lovely personality that leaps off the page and a deep knowledge of the Paris perfume scene where she used to organize visiting trips for perfumephiles.
All this intro would read like an apologetic text on a personal blog placating her feelings, had the fragrances been duds; but they assuredly are NOT duds -far from it. Not only are they intellectually stimulating and multi-nuanced, they combine the rich tapestry of colors that is the Indian peninsula with a very Parisian sensibility. These are truly "transparent orientals", modern and wearable, and therefore it comes as no surprise that Neela commissioned Bertrand Duchaufour to compose them for her niche line.

Trayee is much more than a simple incense blend, fusing the mystical with the sensual and the cerebral, like a trimūrti framework for the divine. This is reflected via the "notes" chosen for Trayee which comprise a wide spectrum, from the bittersweet facets of myrrh & musty oud, to the tried & true Indian fusion of sandalwood and jasmine all the way through the stimulating piquancy of spicy, stimulating notes (rich in eugenol). There is a dusty, grassy, cannabis-herbal accord which is close to the muddy feel of Timbuktu for L'Artisan Parfumeur, also by Duchaufour; not surprisingly, the interplay of earthy spices, mysterious blossoms and murrh & vetiver are present in both. Trayee comes across as somehow muskier, leathery, with a more peppery tang and a fully executed resinous, balsamic arc that recalls the smokiness of Annick Goutal's Encens Flamboyant. Trayee feels like rivulets of sweetish white smoke rising from a polished ceramic basin unto the blue skies, its dissipation unto the air gradual and mind-altering.



Neela Vermeire Creations Trayee notes:
Blue ginger, elemi, cinnamon, ganja accord, blackcurrant absolute, basil, jasmine sambac, Egyptian jasmine, cardamom absolute, clove, saffron, Javanese and Haitian vetiver, incense, Mysore sandalwood oil, patchouli, myrrh, vanilla, cedar, amber notes, oud palao from Laos, oak moss.

Trayee is available as an Eau de Parfum 55ml (in refillable flacons), available at select stockists and on www.neelavermeire.com, where you can find a discovery set.

Disclosure: I was sent a sample by Neela. 

Tuesday, October 23, 2012

La Via del Profumo Tawaf: fragrance review & bottle giveaway

"It was the month of March last year when I stopped by in Arabia on my way back from Oman and went to Mecca. Silk produces strange optical effects according to the way it is woven. One afternoon I discovered the Ka’aba in a colour I had never seen it before. Instead of a dark black on which the oven calligraphies were nearly invisible, the particular sunlight of that afternoon made it light grey, enhancing the calligraphies."

 Thus begins the inspiration behind Tawaf.... The Ka'abah is the geographic center of the Arabian soul, of its spirituality, culture and civilization and Tawaf (طواف) is the name of the muslim ritual consisting of circumambulations [7 times counter-clockwise] around the Ka’abah, the cube shaped building in Mecca, adorned with black silk.

El Topo (1970) film via killthesnark.blogspot.com

Abdes Salaam, the all naturals perfumer pilgrim which travels under the passport of Dominique Dubrana, now has encapsulated this spiritual journey into a new fragrance that is as oriental as it is mystical. It's a common westernized preconception to think of the scents of the East as seductive by default, a tradition inaugurated by Shalimar (Guerlain) in the 1920s when anything eastern seemed filled with promise of forbidden delights, but the apocryphal spirituality of the Middle East hides in the sockets of this jasmine-strewn all natural oriental that aims at the soul as much as it does at the body. Forget all about the Middle Eastern tourist-y "oudh" fragrances churned out by western niche brands too.

The Tawaf fragrance is the aromatic "melody" of the scents that surround those performing the Tawaf. It brings together the trails of Jasmine Sambac that pilgrims wear, the rose water poured from buckets to wash the white marble floor and the Oppoponax attar spread by the handful over the corners of the Ka’abah. These are the essences that comprise the new fragrance. Other ingredients meaningful in the Arabic tradition are Narcissus and Myrrh. Tawaf is a binary perfume constructed on the combination of two accords that intertwine without melting one into each other, the Jasmine Sambac accord and the Oppoponax resin accord interweaving like two colored Chinese silk fabrics which display two different colors depending on how the light shines on them."

I am already a fan of most of Abdes Salaam perfumes (if you have read this blog long enough, you know it by now) so it wasn't such a leap falling in love with a perfume which combines two of my favorite notes: jasmine and opoponax. You got to love a perfumer who is as assured of himself as to publicly state that "it's not difficult to make a good fragrance". Even more so when he's not profiting of the short-cuts that using a handful of passe-partout synthetics present in today's industry ("let's put a lab-produced citral and peony top note with some rose & patchoulol in the heart and boost the base with tons of Iso-E Super and Ambroxan for tenacity & diffusion and call it a day"). But the blending in Tawaf, although recognizably a melange of jasmine and opoponax resin (the latter giving that hazy, soft focus effect that seems like you're seeing everything through a vaseline-smeared lens), is so much more than the sum of its parts. The golden ambience of the jasmine is warm, plush, generous, late summery in feeling, yet with an austere and unusual broom hint. The flower takes on facets of honeysuckle and still green narcissus; fatty, happy, yellow, elevated on an elemental plane where plant emerges from the soil triumphant, alive, touching the sky. The myrrh inclusion is ascetic, bittersweet, offsetting the sweeter floral essences and the delicate rose veil.
Tawaf surrounds the self with the mystery and awe reserved not for tales of maudlin romance, but for the encompassing need for a higher being that knows no religious boundaries and no country borders. And for that it is essential. It's hard to believe anyone wouldn't -at least-like it; it would indicate they're soulless...

Tawaf is available at the La Via del profumo site in 15.5 ml, 33 ml and 50 ml bottles (beautifully decorated with Arab calligraphy). There is also an innovative Tawaf blending kit the aim of which is to allow you to compose the fragrance according to your personal taste. With the kit you’ll be able to change the perfume every day in a different way, to match your mood and state of mind.[more details on the link]

 A 15ml bottle of Tawaf will be given by the perfumer to a Perfume Shrine reader. Please share in the comments how you envision a spiritual experience related to smell (or if you have any such scented spiritual experience!) to be eligible. The giveaway is open to US and Canada readers only, this time, due to USPS regulations (sorry about that...). Draw remains open till Friday 26th midnight and the prize will be posted by the perfumer directly to the winner.

Related reading on Perfume Shrine: Abdes Salaam & La Via del Profumo fragrances
Mapping Scents of Spitiruality.

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

Monday, July 30, 2012

Etat Libre d'Orange The Afternoon of a Faun & Dangerous Complicity: new fragrances

Etat Libre d'Orange have stunned us with Jasmin et Cigarette and Like This. They have surprised us pleasantly with Fils de Dieu du Riz et des Agrumes and Archives 69. They have had our jaw dropped on the floor with Secretions Magnifiques in a most memorable way. And now, set for release for October 2012, the French niche brand is issuing something that has me reminiscing of the days when I was practicing for piano solos at the Conservatoire, listening from the adjoining rooms all the other musicians practicing as well; namely a fragrance inspired by a most famous musical piece, L'apres midi d'un faune by Claude Debussy set into a ballet infamously by Nijinsky.
And to follow, there's yet another fragrance launched in autumn 2012 stepped in the myth of original sin...


The symphonic poem by Debussy derives its theme of the wanderings of a mythological creature, a faun, symbol of the wild forest life, from another source too: the erotically charged poem by Stéphane Mallarmé, The Afternoon of a Faun (1876).

 "The pomegranates burst and murmur with bees; 
And our blood, aflame for her who will take it, 
Flows for all the eternal swarm of desire. 
At the hour when this wood's dyed with gold and with ashes. 
A festival glows in the leafage extinguished: 
Etna! 'tis amid you, visited by Venus 
On your lava fields placing her candid feet, 
When a sad stillness thunders wherein the flame dies." [excerpt]

The new Etat Libre d'Orange fragrance romantically named The Afternoon of a Faun is composed by perfumer is Ralf Schwieger (of Lipstick Rose fame) and will include notes of bergamot, pepper, cinnamon, incense, immortelle (everlasting flower), orris, myrrh, leather, benzoin. Sounds like the erotic dream of the amorous faun is passed on into the olfactory domain now...



 Etat Libre d'Orange also issues another fragrance, Dangerous Complicity, inspired by Adam and Eve and their loaded story in the garden of Eden; a charged olfactory composition that will create talk thanks to its ingredients if nothing else. Perfume Violaine Collas combined Rum Jungle Essence by Mane, ginger JE, coconut JE, bay essence, calamus essence, osmanthus absolute, Egyptian jasmine absolute, ylang ylang essence, lorenox (an aromatic woody-leathery base developed by Mane), patchouli essence, a leather accord, sandalwood, and Cashmeran.

music: Prélude à l'après-midi d'un faune, L'Orchestre symphonique de Montréal, directed by Charles Édouard Dutoit.

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

Monday, March 5, 2012

Maria Candida Gentile Cinabre: fragrance review

Much like Sophia Loren's is a spicy, fiery beauty that defies mere prettiness in favor of exquisite lines, panoramic vistas and hypnotic eyes, Cinabre by Maria Candide Gentile, a force to reckon with, is the type of Italian fragrance I love to love. There's just no way around it; this is a romantic, sexy rose perfume to turn even rose-dubious hearts fire-engine-red with desire!



Cinabre tricks one into thinking it is a cinnamon amber composition and even though there is the intense spice element present and the warmth of ambery resins indeed, one would be mistaken to view it so. Cinabre is a big, honking spicy rose the size of a house and gorgeous for it! Proper Italian fragrances have a sort of lived-in coziness, sunny and outgoing like their compatriots, appearing from a distance less distingué than an aloof French, but at heart they reveal an intricate, complex structure that can be even superior than their neighbour's.

The initial top note in Cinabre is intensely spicy in a peppery way, short and hot, and soon cooled by the more sophisticated touch of ginger (these are clearly sequential stages, pay attention and watch them deliciously unfold, as signora Gentile weaves them artfully into the plot). The rose is lush, all out, sensuous, a deep red rose that accompanies erotic messages delivered under the cloak of night. This sexy rose blend is no accident: it blends essences of many varieties, Moroccan Splendens, May rose absolute with vanilla and myrrh into an embrace that is strong, but a little dangerous at the same time. The resinous elements bring out an orientalized effect to the rose, eschewing the powdery or pot-pourri associations one might have with the rose flower.

This is a fragrance built italianate style, with corbels at every projecting eave and belvedere to calmly show off exquisite ingredients put to artful use. Bravissima, signora Gentile!

Notes for Maria Candida Gentile Cinabre
top: ginger and pepper
middle: opulent rose accord
base: opoponax, benzoin and vanilla.

pic of Sophia Loren via MaryLou.Cinnamon

Thursday, January 19, 2012

Definition: Resinous & Balsamic Fragrances

One of the most elusive terms in fragrance terminology appears to be -according to readers' comments- "resinous" and "balsamic", as relating to perfumes. The raw materials falling under the umbrella of resins and balsams are among the most ancient components of perfumes, often the basis of the Oriental family of scents and lending their soothing opulence and depth to other families, such as the Chypres. They make their appearence known in any category though: florals, fougères, hesperidics also benefit from a touch here and there.
The distinction between resin and balsam is one of form, on a fundamental level: Simply put and generalising, resinous materials come in the form of solidified, gum-like "tears" seeping from the elixir vitae circulating into the bark of big trees, such as the Boswellia Carteri (which produces frankincense). Balsams on the other hand are trickly materials, not necessarily tree secretions, often coming as they do from flower pods or bushy twigs (such as vanilla orchids or the Mediterranean rockrose). But there are exceptions to every rule: Opopanax, though resinous smelling itself, actually comes from a herb, opopanax chironium.
So the real focus when referencing balsamic and resinous terminology is how the materials actually smell and how they're different or common in scent, rather than what their origin is. 
Therefore, for ease, resinous & balsamic materials are classified into 3 distinct olfactory profiles according to their aromatic properties first and foremost.

Soft balsamic smelling ingredients include:
  • vanilla (from the vanilla orchid, the rich pod having a more complex rum-like note than the popular synthetic ethyl vanillin)
  • benzoin gum (from Styrax Tonkiniensis with a sweetish, caramel and vanillic facet; benzoin Siam or benzoin Sumatra are used in perfumery)
  • Peru balsam (coming from the Myroxylon, ~literally "fragrant wood" in Greek~ or Quina/Balsamo, a different species of which also produces Tolu balsam)
  • Tolu balsam (close to Peru balsam, but a little sweeter and fresher)
  • cistus labdanum (leathery, ambery, deep, coming from the rockrose bush and traditionally harvested from the hairs of goats who had grazed on the rockrose).
Mecca balsam 4
These materials have a gentle tone, while at the same time they're softly enveloping and have a pronounced character. They fix flowers into lasting longer and thanks to their properties when used in large quantities produce the semi-Orientals or the florientals (in conjunction with rich floral essences). 
A great example of a fragrance featuring copious amounts of Tolu balsam is Tolu perfume by Ormonde Jayne. The opulence of the balsamic note mollifies the rest of the composition, giving the golden sheen of a multi-faceted citrine. Tolu also makes floral notes more candied: in Fracas by Piguet it acts on the tuberose, on Gold by Donna Karan it enhances the ambery lily.
Compare and contrast with the balsamic base of Guerlain's Vol de Nuit which features a generous helping of Peru balsam; the oriental accord gives it its opulence under the green top note. In Ambre Sultan by Lutens, Peru balsam pairs with its traditional counterpart, an oriental amber accord. Elixir des Merveilles is another one which features balsam of Peru for its sweetly grounding qualities.

For labdanum, grab Donna Karan Labdanum, L'Air du desert Marocain by Andy Tauer, La Labo Labdanum 18 or Madame X by Ava Luxe: they're full of it.
The purest incarnation of benzoin in non gum form is Papier d'Armenie, the traditional scented little papers in a cute notebook, which burnt produce a clearing, anti-microbial atmosphere to one's home. Short of that, if you don't travel to Europe often, you can get a sample of Bois d'Armenie by Guerlain, or Prada Candy. Benzoin is very versatile spanning the fragrance families from citrus to woods and florals and its heft is therefore used frequently as it complements the other notes beautifully. Chanel's Coromandel fuses the vanilla-cinnamon notes of benzoin with a white chocolate note to render a delicious and sophisticated gourmand fragrance. Both benzoin and Tolu balsam make up the surprisingly monastic backdrop of Bal a Versailles by Jean Desprez, allied to the austerity of cedar.

If you are seeking a lush balsamic composition with multi-nuanced orientalia, seek no further than Mecca Balsam by La via del Profumo; it features labdanum, real oud and franckincense as well, so it's a composite that allows one to see how categories can be combined.

Vanillic fragrances are of course widely understood by everyone, so another article of a different scope, focusing on their merits and faults, is in order.


Resinous balsamic smelling ingredients include:
  • opoponax/opopanax (also called "sweet myrrh" ~though no relation~ from the Opopanax chironium herb, scented between lavender & amber)
  • frankincense/olibanum (the lemony-top, smoky smelling "tears" of the Boswellia carteri tree, called lubbān in Arabic)
  • myrrh gum (a waxy oleoresin with a bitterish profile from the Commiphora myrrha)
  • birch tar (from "cooked" birch wood, tar-smelling)
  • elemi (a peppery, lemony, pine-like yellow oil coming from the steam-distilled or treated with volatile solvents resin of the Canarium Lizonicum)
  • styrax (resin from the Liquidambar Orientalis tree, with a scent reminiscent of glue and cinnamon)
Valued since antiquity, resins have been widely used in incense and perfumery. Highly fragrant and antiseptic resins and resin-containing perfumes have been used by many cultures as medicines for a large variety of ailments. It's no coincidence that the three Magi gave baby Jesus the gifts of Frankincense, Myrrh and Gold. Traditionally used to make incense (King Solomon regarded opoponax as the noblest incense gum), even nowadays in the Middle East and the Mediterranean basin frankincense and myrrh "tears" are the incense par excellence still. These materials are deeper, with a lingering trail which adds originality and projection to a composition. Since they themselves typically come from the bark of trees in the form of crystalised resin "tears", they pair very well with woody scents.

If you want to get a taste of how some of the more "esoteric" of these smell, , say opoponax grab yourself the Diptyque Opopanax scent in either room spray or candle, as well as their Myrrh candle. They provide the scent in isolation. The iconic Shalimar as well as the masculine counterpart Habit Rouge owe their "flou" hazy effect in opoponax allied to orange blossom. For myrrhMyrrhe Ardente in Les Orientalistes line by Annick Goutal and La Myrrhe by Serge Lutens provide two nuanced and quite different "readings" of the myrrh gum in complex compositions.
Athonite frankincense in the black variety is pure frankincense/olibanum gum (it's pliable when you rub it, like chewing gum), rising in clean, citrusy-smoky ringlets on the air; I burn it on small coal tablets regularly. There are many frankincense fragrances in the niche market, the truer perhaps being Avignon by Comme des Garcons, but the whole Incense Series is to be explored for the truly interested perfume lover.
Tauer's Incense Extrême is a good starting place for frankincense variants, based as it is on the Boswellia serrata (Indian incense) at a 25% concentration.

Birch tar is easily detected in compositions of the Cuir de Russie type (from Chanel Cuir de Russie to Piver's and Guerlain Cuir de Russie). This is also a material that can be classified in the sub-group of phenolic smells. It is pungent and dark.
Elemi is often used in masculine blends to give at the same time cooling piquancy and warmth thanks to its peppery top note: try Gucci by Gucci, notice the top note of L'Instant pour Homme (Guerlain) and the unique Eau de Naphe by Comptoir Sud Pacifique. For styrax, remember that the resin has a leathery facet with incense tonalities (and has been an important supporting player in "Cuir de Russie" compositions, such as Chanel's). Notice it in the drydown of Carven's Ma Griffe, in Poivre 23 by Le Labo and in No.11 Cuir Styrax by Prada. Lutens uses it beautifully in several of his scents, notably in the base note of Tubereuse Criminelle and Cuir Mauresque.

Nota bene that even though fir, pine and copal essences come from coniferous trees themselves,  I am not including them in the resinous and balsamic classification as they're really terpenic-smelling (a perfume definition to be elaborated on in a subsequent article).

There is also a sub-set of powdery balsamic smelling ingredients which do not come in resin or balsam form, therefore they are not classified into this category via origin at all, but rather via their scent profile alone. This includes: orris root (the Iris Pallida rhizome and also the synthetic irones-rich reproductions), several musks of synthetic origin, and carrot seed oil (which can give an orris scent in itself).
Amber mixes (refer to what amber is and its difference from ambergris on this link) can also be powdery balsamic smelling: the inclusion of benzoin (which gives a sweetish, baby talc note) and vanilla in the mix of ingredients in amber is the culprit. In French terminology/classification of orientalised perfumes they're refered to as "parfums ambrés" (even when not entirely focused on amber). For instance Obsession, the original Magie Noire (not the reformulated which is greener, more chypre) or Moschino by Moschino (again the original from 1987) are examples of perfumes "ambrés". It is important NOT to confuse between a balsamic/ambery powdery ambience (which is typically sweeter) and one which is powdery/dry (such as in Aromatics Elixir, Ma Griffe, Flower by Kenzo, DK Cashmere Mist): the two terms though very close are not interchangeable.

In concluding, the necessity of establishing a common language for scent among people who talk about the same perfumes increasingly arises. Even though we commonly use subjective terms to denote our feelings, the proper terminology, in accordance to how perfumers talk among themselves, aids a thorough understanding  and enhances our communicating our impressions on an immediately graspable context. It is this need which we try to address with our articles on Perfume Vocabulary and Definition on PerfumeShrine. If you haven't caught up with our relevant articles, here's what you might have missed:

Photo of resin drops, some rights reserved by flod/flickr, censer pic via St.Dunstan's Priory

Friday, December 16, 2011

Diane by Diane von Furstenberg: fragrance review

The masstige in mainstream fragrances by famous designers these days is such that expectations have hit an all-time rock bottom: Rarely does a perfume enthusiast come upon a fragrance that defies both the lowered budget and the detrimental focus group admonishments for the lowest common denominator invariably resulting in dull, lackluster compositions with as much excitement as watching paint dry  (See Chanel's No.19 Eau Poudré; or even worse Chance Eau Tendre, which might be shampoo for all you know. Also Yves Saint Laurent's technically-challenged Belle d'Opium).

My friend Gaia, the Non Blonde summed it up well: "the perfume, Diane, is a mass-market/designer perfume. It's created to appeal to first and foremost to the non fragonerd crowd, to sell by the bucket and end up heavily discounted on every online retailer website. Rarely the stuff dreams are made of."
Nevertheless, on some occasions perfumers working in the mainstream do manage to create something quite good (see Elie Saab Le Parfum, Baiser Volé by Cartier, Prada Candy perfume or Love,Chloé) or even go above and beyond the call of duty (see the stupendously wonderful Bottega Veneta Eau de Parfum, though to be fair this one had probably as much attention to detail given to as an art restoration on a Vermeer); to mention only 2011 releases.

Diane by Diane von Furstenberg is rather in the former category; it lacks that above and beyond element to make it into the great ones, but this shouldn't deter you from sampling or receiving as a Christmas gift with relative pleasure. It's easy to expect something as intensely feminine in a devil-may-care attitude that maps its own trajectory as its famous designer stood for: the von Furstenberg wrap dresses especially are the epitome of "smart woman on the go who hasn't forgotten her pudenda at home".  This is not quite it, but it's not totally traitorous either.

For Diane the fragrance perfumer Aurelien Guichard created an old-school feminine violet composition that goes for a very long-lasting clean and woody ambience, reminiscent of retro bath products; not quite as spectacular as Furstenberg's fashions, you might say. But brownie points for not going for the easy route of too sweet, too fruity (thankfully Diane doesn't like fruity fragrances), too air-headed, too fleeting... Diane is a real fragrance, ladylike, to be best appreciated probably by the high-street consumer who has not totally lost the concept of what perfume is: a manufactured, non photorealistic impression of something in the artist's mind (that something usually is your dessert spilled on your favourite dress these days, so hallelujah for this small favour in Diane).

Additionally, violet scents are becoming trendy again, after their first resurgence when niche perfumery first erupted into the scene a decade ago. It probably signals a mini comeback of class and restraint, after the atrocities of bosom-spilling & visible thongs over one's jeans fashions. Witness Tom Ford's Violet Blonde (chosen to be distributed in the mainstream line rather than the Tom Ford Privé one), or Love, Chloé, both this very season's releases. Hardly tramp stuff.
In Diane Eau de Parfum especially the treatment of ionones (these are the molecules that give that violet, retro scent) via a clean incense note of great dryness deducts the usually candied take that the note takes and thus, instead of intense "powdery", the formula is twisted on its axis to go for a "soapy scent".  The woodiness, provided by that fractionalized patchouli that makes the rounds in hundreds of modern releases, is well tempered, pleasant, even with a hint to chypré coolness. I also detect clean musks radiating from the blotter and sticking on the skin with their tenacious tentacles.
Likable and very wearable, just not remarkable enough. Decent, non air-headed bottle.

Notes for Diane by Diane von Furstenberg: frangipani, violet, patchouli, myrrh, and musk.

Diane by Diane von Furstenberg ($85 for 50ml/1.7 oz of eau de parfum, there is also an eau de toilette version which is lighter & "simpler" in texture) is available at Sephora (online too)

Pic: Princess Diane von Furstenberg and writter Alain Elkann photographed by Helmut Newton

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