Penhaligon's Juniper Sling: fragrance review & draw

Just utter Juniper Sling and find yourself playfully laughing at its jovial, throwback style recalling 1920s London's Bright Young Things consuming gin and recklessly dancing the night away. Indeed "the fragrance that put the ROAR in the 20s" is the new Penhaligon's tag line in their ingenious "mock-umentary" which succeeds their Monty Python-esque previous cartoon film for Sartorial (At this pace, I think we also have an advertising phenomenon on our hands!). Sucker for spicy woodies that I am, I find myself enjoying the trail left by it.

Perfumer Olivier Cresp follows in the steps of Jean-Claude Ellena, who in aromatic Angeliques sous la Pluie (by F.Malle) first gave us a gin & tonic potion that is bracing, cool, delightfully dry and decidedly unsweet; like a soldier's memory of a frosty icecle perched on a thatched roof when away fighting malaria in the tropics. Indeed, tonic water was widely embraced by British soldiers away in the belief that quinine treats malaria. And gin had to be mixed in order to take off the especially bitter tang of quinine, so gin & tonic became a long-held tradition. Penhaligon's drew from that precedent and the advent of "bathtub gin" made during the 1920s and they created Juniper Sling, following the recipe of London Dry Gin. The term ’London Dry’ refers to the way in which the spirit is made, as botanicals must be added during the distillation process instead of after.
There is also another Ellena segment fused in the new fragrance, that peppery-woody facet of Poivre Samarkande, exploiting the properties of Iso E Super so pointedly. Juniper Sling unites the two elements (herbal clarity and low-hum woodiness) into a coherent structure and adds a third pillar; a slight vetiver sweetness plus synth woods. Sweet accents in such a composition might throw the whole off (after all, Ellena's compositions withstand so well and possess such clarity exactly because they're unsweet), but the accomplished Cresp holds his own and balances the act in a likeable, not-too-daring style.

Juniper Sling is characteristically laced with angelica and juniper, the herbal qualities allying with spicy notes of a somewhat warmer character (a pepper & pomander accord). The effect is crisp, groomed-clean. Lots of terpenic linalool in the scent exhibits a light floralcy that is spiced up.
This is contrasted with sensuality coming from the skin-like effect of a suede accord and from the cardamom; indeed cardamom has amongst spices a most sensuous, skin-like, warm aroma. Essentially traversing a low, soft develpment arc, Juniper Sling retains a low-hum vibrancy on skin, very woody and quite musky (clean musk), that verges on sweeter, more gourmand nuances as time passes; there is a pleasant licorice note surfacing, coming from vetiver. This is not the cold stones & musty roots note in hardcore niche vetivers (see Turtle Vetiver or Vetiver Extraordinaire), but rather the warmish, intimate drydown of Guerlain's Vetiver.

My fragrance testing came from a splash on vial, so the hum was low indeed, therefore I would suggest that in order to capture its full effect and much of the spicy top notes as well, you should opt to test with a spray.
Although technically perfectly unisex, the fragrance might appear more spicy-woody masculine than usual for women who embrace warmer notes (or ultra femme fragrances like Penhaligon's Amaranthine). I for one find it a quietly enjoyable tipple that won't get me drunk, but I would have liked it to be more daring and polished.

Not unintentionally, the launch party given featured a menu consisting of food inspired by the notes of the perfume itself: Kicking off with juniper smoked sea trout (spritzed at the table with an edible Juniper essence!), then onto peppered lamb rump with roasted courgettes (roasted on a BBQ on the roof of the car park!) and finished with black cherry and brown sugar ice cream. (A menu created by Chefs Jon Rotheram, Robin Holmgren, Dave and Shaun).

Two deluxe samples for our readers, answering these questions: 1) What is it that makes you cross/not cross the sex divide in fragrances? 2)Do you have a favourite opposite sex marketed fragrance to wear for yourself? Draw remains open till Tuesday 4th midnight.

Notes for Penhaligon's Juniper Sling:
Top: angelica, cinnamon, orange and juniper berries;
Heart: cardamom, orris root, leather and pepper;
Base: vetiver, cherry and sugar.



Juniper Sling is an Eau de Toilette and is now available to buy online and in all Penhaligon's stores.

photo of Bill Murray and Theresa Russell in the 1984 remake of The Razor's Edge film via photobucket 
In the interests of disclosure, I sampled the new scent via a promo

Serge Lutes De Profundis: fragrance review & draw

If Charles Baudelaire or Oscar Wilde (pleading with Lord Alfred Douglas from within his jail) are references both in plain view in the new Serge Lutens fragrance De Profundis, and they themselves relied on this, their posthumus reputation might be rather lacklustre. Whether it is fatigue or overfamiliarisation, the olfactory seraglio at Palais Royal has began showing signs of tiredness, despite the vivid, novel colour of the latest perfume which shines in its beautiful bell jar like a bright amethyst. You can almost hear the cry of the 130th Psalm "De Profundis Clamavi Ad Te, Domine" for all the drama in front of your eyes! Sadly, experiencing the fragrance by one's nose is underwhelming, after such build-up, promising the scent of death, no less.  
De Profundis is a piercing, sharp, dusty and at the same time aldehydic "clean" floral that petters out to woods and a little fruity violet, rather than the dark, dangerously sexy or earthy, medieval scent suggested by its apothecarial look.

Just take a look at the official ad copy (or skip it), composed in the usual cryptic style which reveals less than it suggests:

"When death steals into our midst, its breath flutters through the black crepe of mourning, nips at funeral wreaths and crucifixes, and ripples through the gladiola, chrysanthemums and dahlias.

If they end up in garlands in the Holy Land or the Galapagos Islands or on flower floats at the Annual Nice Carnival, so much the better!

What if the hearse were taking the deceased, surrounded by abundant flourish, to a final resting place in France, and leading altar boys, priest, undertaker, beadle and gravediggers to some sort of celebration where they could indulge gleefully in vice? Now that would be divine!

In French, the words beauty, war, religion, fear, life and death are all feminine, while challenge, combat, art, love, courage, suicide and vertigo remain within the realm of the masculine.

Clearly, Death is a Woman. Her absence imposes a strange state of widowhood. Yet beauty cannot reach fulfilment without crime. The chrysanthemum is the sole pretext for writing these lines.

Turning grave sites held in perpetuity over to Life – a familiar of these haunts – the chrysanthemum invites Death to leave the cemetery and offer us its flower. De Profundis clamavi." [translation by Fragrantica]

But how did we get to here? L'Eau Serge Lutens seems like a seperate entity in the canon, both in context and in smell, and for that reason was given leniency, even if it alienated much of the fan base; and while Boxeuses conversely recycled the familiar in a most pleasant way, I was rather hesitant into jumping for a full bottle of Serge's last, violent and incongruous release, Vitriol d'Oeillet. This was a first. Not jumping up & down for De Profundis, later on, sounded like sacrilege! But the expectations were set too high: Baudelaire is too much of a decadent aesthete to reference with impunity; Eros & Thanatos has been explored as an idea by scholars for millenia; and a scentscape inspired by death is a risky bet ~ the church has the patent down pat after all. Lutens took the All Saints tradition of taking chrysanthemums (autumnal flowers) to graves and span it into composing a floral that would get inspired by death.

 De Profundis olfactorily resembles a dusty, powdery yet sharp scent of herbal tea and flowers, with a smattering of honeysuckle, lily of the valley and greenish notes (green jasmine, green lily) on top; not melacholic chrysanthemums promised by the ad copy, but rather the aftermath of the funeral, despite the closeness with the autumn blossom.
What is more unexpected is that the bouquet of green floral notes very soon gives way to a "blanched" soapy musk resembling Galaxolide (but not quite! what is it?), and aldehydic nuances, reminiscent of the worst memories of L'Eau Serge Lutens and at the same time like bottled light, ozonic, lifting upwards and upwards...like a soul to the light?
Whereas the soapy concept was thick as thieves with the humorous, ironic allusion to "clean" in L'Eau as a sign of defiance in an era when perfume connoisseurs are embalming themselves in thick resins, stinky florals or bitter pharmaceutical-worthy oud notes to prove their mettle, in De Profundis the trick doesn't quite work again: The synthetic feel of the powdery note is far off the luxurious iris of Bas de Soie (which still denoted a classy sexiness) and at the same time it lacks the nuanced greyness of the majestic and unsurpassable Iris Silver Mist. Amidst it all, a fruity scent surfaces, enhanced by alpha methyl ionone (a recognisable violet note), giving a mildly sweetish, pleasant backdrop which bears a hint of familiarity with the previous Lutens fragrances. Although seemingly a loud perfume upon spraying, in its rather screechy projection upon first spray, De Profundis mellows into a soft woody skin scent which doesn't last as -usually- expected.

Evaluating a Lutens creation in less than stellar terms leaves me with a certain disillusionment, which is painful to experience. For more than 15 years, Lutens used to instantly transport me into imaginary travels atop a magic carpet which seemed to continuously unfold new motifs, to lull me into a reverie that united the mysticism of the East with the classiness and chic of the West. Perched, as I am, between two worlds, from a geographical point of view, this unison spoke deeply to my soul. I'm hoping that the line will find again its axis, but with dearest Serge reaching 70 it looks like it is a precarious, foreshadowing prospect and I find myself sitting on a church pew like a kid, confused with the world and eager to catch at straws...

Official notes for Serge Lutens De Profundis: chrysanthemum, dahlia, lily, violet, earthy notes.

Serge Lutens De Profundis comes in the familiar bell jar bottles of Eau de Parfum available only in Paris at Les Salons de Palais Royal (It's part of the exclusive line), 75ml for 120 euros. This year there will be two limited edition engraved bottles which cost significantly (significantly!) more (We're talking upwards of 1000 euros here): there will be only 7 of each bottle design for sale, reportedly.

For our readers, 2 samples of De Profundis, out of my own stash, will be given. Tell us, what would you like to smell in a "death perfume"?



Movie still of Haley Joel Osment in The Sixth Sense by M.Night Shyamalan, Music set to the psalm 130 Arvo Pärt

Yves Saint Laurent Saharienne: fragrance review

If damning with faint praise is the modus operandi of the considerate critic, then I could say that the feminine fragrance Saharienne by Yves Saint Laurent is an inoffensive summer scent for days when you're bored to think of perfuming yourself. That wouldn't be right, though. Saharienne evokes so much fashion mythology with its name that expectations would naturally soar. Unfortunately, for a house with such clout in its history and at least two controversial scents in its archives (Opium and M7), plus many beautiful ones (YSL Paris, In Love Again, Rive Gauche, Y), Saharienne underwhelms.

A fresh "nothing" for summer that, while not unpleasant by any means, falls short of the stature of a true Saint Laurent fragrance. The promised "exotic journey in the wilderness" is just a stroll down the perfumery hall of an anonymous department store in Peoria.

When Saint Yves, fashion's true saint, introduced the saharienne "safari jacket" in the 1968, he envisioned a garment that would recall the best of colonial imperialism, in terms of stylishness that is, without succumbing to the demeaning elements herein.

The sharp, belted, pocketed jacket was compact and practical, but with an air of savagery as well, as though the wearer could brave sandstorms that would obscure the skies in torpedos of seemingly red particles attacking one's every cranial cavity.
The beloved garment of the white colonialist (Yves was of Algerian descent after all) looked ever so sexy on the leggy Veruschka (the aristocrat model Veruschka von Lehndorff, pictured here); cinched waist and  tight laces over bronzed breasts that were unencumbered by bridling bras. Saint Laurent's fashions made women look powerful, yet feminine! The Saharienne jacket (or the safari jacket) was no exception to that rule. Apart from a fashion milestone (no designer has been immune to its charms in the following 40 years), it also signaled a feminist one:
"By 1970, with the acceptance of trouser suits, the Western woman's silhouette accommodated bifurcation for the first time. Yves Saint Laurent, a designer extremely sensitive to social trends, responded to the May student uprisings in 1968 by creating a line of women's tailored trouser suits. Based on the "African" theme, he created a "Safari" suit for his spring/summer 1968 collection, transforming the functional hunting outfit into townwear for women". [source: The Metropolitan Museum of Art ]

The muted bergamot "cologne" idea (taking a sharp, astringent, tangy flavour and blunting its edge with loads of Iso-E Super in modern perfumery speak) is not remarkably original; not does it serve any purpose as a stand-alone-trick beyond the blah. It's shampoo writ large. Nothing wrong with this, coming from a brand like Clean or Bath & Body Works, but there is some disappointment in the notion pervading Yves Saint Laurent. I detect no significant spice, just a flou idea of woodiness and "clean" musky backdrop.
If you're looking for a sparkling woody-faceted bergamot with great lasting power for that refreshing, insouciant grace of summer wear, when you don't want to look like you're trying too hard, grab Terre d'Hermes instead.

Notes for Saharienne by Yves Saint Laurent:
Top: lemon, Italian bergamot and mandarin
Heart: white flower petals, orange leaf, galbanum, black currant bud.
Base: pink pepper, ginger.

Valentina de Valentino: Fragrance Review & Bottle Giveaway

Valentina de Valentino is not a hard name to come up with when you're the famous Italian designer who's dressed everyone from Jackie O to Courtney Love; the feminine counterpart is a sexy name, meant for It Girls who like to pique people's fancy. But first things first: The new perfume by Valentino won't launch internationally until September 23rd 2011, but I have a full bottle to give away in the meantime to a lucky reader! [draw is now closed, thank you!]. It came through a promotion (an amazing-looking one that included a giga book with pics which inspired me to take the photographs of Valentina you see myself) and has been only sprayed a few times to test it. Please state your interest in the comments for a chance to win the fragrance. Now on to the dissecting stuff...

Perfumers Olivier Cresp and Alberto Morillas, masters in the game of producing scentful crowd-pleasers, joined forces in the new Valentino fragrance which is presented as a floriental, but is really a tart, quite fun "fruitchouli" (perfume community slang for the fruits & patchouli genre of fragrances). In Valentina the tanginess of the top notes (citrus and strawberries) cuts through the sweeter elements in the composition, before the soft, clean woody backdrop takes reign for the duration of the scent on the skin. It's essentially linear, projecting with a direct flirtatious message, in the mould of Flowerbomb, Coco Mademoiselle, Parisienne, Miss Dior Cherie or La Petite Robe Noire (it references the berries notes of the two latter, possibly through Frambinone). Valentino is known for his couture, but this is no "couture scent", it's rather mainstream, though well composed. It also includes 7% of the realtively new molecule Paradisone (also used in 2006 Perles de Lalique, Kapsule Woody by Lagerfeld from 2008 and Cheap & Chic I Love Love by Moschino from 2005).

Valentina flirts like an Italian at an opera opening night, kicking the heels underneath and pinching their cute boyfriend's bottom naughtily but -bottom line!- harmlessly. Valentina de Valentino is bright, with sunnier, citrusier elements, a small subfacet of spice (anise and clove-cinnamon?). You feel the floral bouquet (orange blossom, jasmine and tuberose) in the Valentino fragrance most when comparing wrist-to-wrist with another perfume in the genre: Compared to Coco Mademoiselle, for instance, the patchouli in the Chanel is positively camphoraceous side-to-side and the whole seems less floral. Even so, lovers of the latter would probably like the former, sweet tooth and its hint of castoreum & earth in the "white truffle" accord. This latter element is a hint that they might have been inspired by the seminal Une Rose in the F.Malle line, but of course the Valentino perfume is tamer; there's only a wink of "earthiness".

 
Valentino focuses on how the creative team has envisioned the new fragrance for the modern audacious woman. I suspect they sat down and saw the void of a fragrance for youngish women on the prowl in their portfolio; and who can blame them?

The photographic campaign by David Sims sees Freja Beha Erichsen shot in a deserted Rome at night-time, after escaping a boring soiree (it's a cute commercial!). 
The packaging revisits the ideas of Valentino couture, especially the pastel colours of the past three collections; femininity, audacity and sobriety. All these translate into a bottle that is delicate and surpemely pretty to look at on your vanity with its gorgeous flowers embossed on it, like a small corsage.

Notes for Valentina de Valentino: 
Calabrian bergamot, white truffles from Alba, jasmine, orange blossom from Amalfi, tuberose, strawberry, wood notes, cedar, and  amber.

 

All photographs (except for official ad) © by Elena Vosnaki. Click to enlarge.

Cartier Baiser Vole: fragrance review

“There is no lily oil or lily absolute,” says perfumer Mathilde Laurent, who wanted to introduce a floral scent in Cartier’s fragrance collection, a propos Baiser Volé, the jewellery brand's latest feminine fragrance launch. The name means "Stolen Kiss" reminiscing such romantic images as Fragonard's painting or Truffaut's film. “But I didn’t want it to be the 1,001st floral floriental, and I didn’t want to add a new floral composition.” Instead, Laurent likened wearing Baiser Volé to having on a necklace of lilies!

In Baiser Volé, in-house Cartier perfumer Mathilde Laurent explores the nature of lily three-ways (the leaves, the petals and the pistil) in a fresh powdery floral context and ends up with a surreal lily that isn't really about flowers, nor does it smell particularly spot-on "floral", but about the flowery nature of woman herself: opening up, "blooming", receiving, being at once pure and a little bit disorienting.

Laurent began by asking what smell men found enticing in a womanly way, to which the (fit to print, at least) prominent reply seemed to be "the lily". Colour me sceptical; isn't lily a symbol for purity and the need for cleansing? Maybe men are really leaning more onto the Madonna rather than the whore juxtaposition? Maybe they're asking them from a pre-arranged multiple-choice sheet?
At any rate, thus equiped, Laurent embarked on her 2-year long quest into fitting this stunning flower into a composition that would light up the room just lilies they do, without it being cliché, or surupy sweet, or headache-inducing cloying. If you are looking for the most realistic lily scent recreation, you might stop reading right now or read our article on Lily scent and lily flower types in perfumery; Baiser Volé doesn't even aim at that. But if you like fresh powdery scents, you might want to at least sample; it's very likeable.

The vegetal quality of the fragrance presents itself in an odd game of salicylates, solar notes which boom on the skin, a balance of bitter and sweet with a hint of citrus: The treatment, air-spun, meringue-like, delicate, is not unlike the one that perfumer Jean Claude Ellena reserved for the lightening up of vanilla through ylang ylang & lily notes in his fluffy Vanille Galante for the Hermessences. The vanilla and musks laced drydown in Baiser Volé recalls the sweetness of Un Lys by Serge Lutens, but the context is less poetic, more powdery, in a cosmetic-power-infused, slightly bittersweet way with a small subfacet of spice ~only minimal, a tad clovey; and a hint of violet ionones. It's safe to deduce that Baiser Volé transposes these niche sensibilities, pure, unadulterated exploration of perfumery raw materials's facets, in sleight-of-hand executions, into the mainstream. Compared with other lily fragrances, Baiser Volé stands alone and lacks the gaiac smokiness of real lilies which is reported to give them their "ham" brine-y facet. Cartier's interpretation is nowhere near the dense, ambery tinged radiant ambience of Donna Karan's Gold. Or the faux chypre structure of Ineke's Gilded Lily. Or the spicy corolla of Lily & Spice by Penhaligon's. And whereas Lys Mediterranée is a raspy, roughened salty-savoury lily that appeals to a certain Med sensibility with its hoarsey voice, while remaining irresolutely lily-like, Baiser Volé is smoother, more pliable, less floral, more traditionally womanly in its vanillic powdery kiss, and oddly at once old-fashioned and "clean".

On the other hand, and this is really interesting, Laurent takes no prisoners into embracing the latest trend of reinventing powdery florals for a generation that was afraid of anything powdery signifying "old lady perfume": From Esprit d'Oscar to Love,Chloé, the pink satin feel of ballerina shoes is taking on the sheen of flou through dusty, dry notes reminiscent of violets, talcum powder and sweet musks (if you're thinking of Lovely, by Sarah Jessica Parker, with an added dose of powderiness, you're not too far off); especially since this is a medium sillage fragrance, projecting politely while lasting power is good. Maybe it's code for "classy" or "different" in the milieu of hundreds of sweet things on the market. Maybe the generation who loved Flower by Kenzo and Cashmere Mist by Donna Karan have moved onto other things by now, leaving a void to be filled with new consuemers. The freshly powdery effect needs a true best-seller to shoot off as the new "craziness" in perfume (after "pink chypres" , fruitchoulis, and ethylmaltol-based ~aka cotton-candy smelling~ gourmands) and it remains to be seen just which fragrance that might be: Even though the concept and smell might be right for Cartier, I think we're dealing with a confusing name for Anglos: kissing the rodent seems to be many people's gut response, which might shoot the project in the foot (who can forget Rochas Poupée?).

Mathilde Laurent has been at jewellers Cartier since 2005 and she had been busy concocting Les Heures du Parfum, a series of niche-smelling fragrances sold exclusively at Cartier boutiques. Baiser Volé is the brand's first major feminine fragrance launch since Le Baiser du Dragon oriental in 2003 (Cartier de Lune of early 2011 not withstanding) and contrasted with the best-selling masculine Déclaration, which garners more than 60% of all Cartier's fragrance sales, this Baiser is set to be a serious bet on the part of the company; a recent Women's Wear Daily article tagged it as being intended as the scent pillar in the brand's feminine portfolio.It's definitely geared towards "a younger consumer", though like Robin I am at a loss on just how old the Cartier demographic really is to begin with.

The bottle of Baiser Volé is based on a stylised lighter design, for which the house is famous: In the 1970s there was no chicer way to light up (even today Cartier-embossed cigarettes are still produced in a small quantity in Europe), giving rise to the Les Must de Cartier, a boutique line from which Must perfume arose. Cartier Baiser Volé is available in Eau de Parfum (priced between $75-$145), also presented in matching Shower Gel and Body Lotion ($55 each) and deo spray, and is currently a Nordstrom Anniversary exclusive, but it will be available at major department stores in September 2011.

artwork via lunarki blog

Serge Lutens Vitriol d'Oeillet: fragrance review & draw

"Sometimes he frets his instrument with the back of a kitchen knife or even a metal lipstick holder, giving it the clangy virility of the primitive country blues men".  This descriptor for Bob Dylan's style fits the newest Serge Lutens creation to a T: clangy, virile in a rugged way, disruptive, angry and unusual are all characteristics of Vitriol d'Oeillet (meaning vitriol of carnation); an uncharacteristic carnation fragrance which breaks the mould of old fashioned powdery florals of the start of the 20th century, offering a futurist angry woody floral. In Vitriol d'Oeillet Lutens alludes to carnation via intense, corosive pepper and lily and invites us to think of carnations of red, feisty under the intense sun of Provence, and at the same time of the London fog hiding a gentleman killer à la Jack the Ripper, who sports a carnation in his buttonhole.

There's something to be said about 19th century and its fixation with death & violence, a kind of violence beyond the funereal association so many people have with carnations. The ethereally romantic image of the era gets shattered when we read Honoré de Balzac for instance: Madame Cibot is a widow twice-over, when her husband Rémonencq accidentally consumes the chalice of vitriol he was intending for his wife (in Cousin Pons)...Oil of vitriol features in many a 19th novella, not just Balzac.
Two especially memorable scenes have the caustic sulphuric acid unceremoniously thrown on a face (the acid works by releasing acids from their salts, i.e.sulphides); namely in George Gissing's The Nether World (1889) and Robert Louis Stevenson's The Ebb-Tide (1894). Perhaps what inspired those writers into using vitriol in fiction scene stealers as an aussault (an aussault to injustice, poverty and degradation), as well as a metonym for realism (a late 19th century claim to the explosive!), is what inspired Lutens himself; a desire to break loose with preconceptions about how a carnation fragrance should be: pretty, prim, feminine, dainty? Vitriol d'Oeillet is nothing of the sort!
But there's something to be said about Vitriol being in tune with Moorish sensibilities too, of which Lutens has long been an accolyte. Blue vitriol is copper (Cu), green vitriol is iron (Fe), and white vitriol is zinc (Zn), all Hermetic references for the initiated. Sulphuric acid (historically known as 'oil of vitriol') was formerly prepared from green vitriol in a ritual that crossed into the alchemical. The Moors sold vitriol preparations as an antiseptic panaceia. There's this thing in Shi'ism called ta'wil, it's this idea where "you take anything back to its root significance, its original self". A cleanse going for the bone!

On the other hand, in late 19th century carnations were innocent, popular buttonhole flowers; Oscar Wilde was said to sport one and companies producing such fragrances were a dime a dozen, rendering the carnation soliflore a dominating fragrance trend of the Victorian era. The dandified character of carnation scents has persisted: from old-image Floris Malmaison to Roger &Gallet's ever popular ~but ultimately discontinued~ Blue Carnation all the way to modern-day retro Dianthus by Etro.

The opening of Serge Lutens Vitriol d'Oeillet is sharp, caustic as befits the name though not smelling of sulphur, without the dense powdery note that surrounds the rich floral heart of retro carnations such as Caron's Bellodgia. After all, clove, the main spicy component in creating a carnation accord in perfumery, is called clou de girofle in French, same as a pointy "nail". But despite the disruptive nails on a chalkboard of the opening of the new Lutens fragrance, the progression of Vitriol d'Oeillet softens gradually; much like Tubéreuse Criminelle hides a silken polished floral embrace beneath the mentholated stage fright. In Vitriol d'Oeillet's case Serge hides the heart of a lush lily inside the spicy mantle. Indeed it is more of a lily than a carnation fragrance, as per the usual interpretation of carnation in perfumery.

The spices almost strangle the lily notes under cruel fingers: black pepper, pimento, nutmeg, cayenne pepper, pink pepper with its rosy hue, paprika and clove; in Serge Noire and Louve the spices serve as a panoramic "lift" to the other notes, here they reinforce what was a hint in the flower. The woody backdrop of cedar is softening the base, but lovers of Serge's and Sheldrake's candied-fruit-compote-in-a-cedar-bowl will not find the sweet oriental they have grown to expect. Vitriol d'Oeillet is resolutely spicy, rendered in woody floral tonalities that only slightly turn powdery towards the very end.

To give perfume comparisons: If you have always found Secret Mélange, from Les Caprices du Dandy collection by Maître Parfumeur et Gantier (a fragrance which dared to mix cold spices and flowers and harmonize the accord with warm woods) quite intriguing, you have good chances of liking the jarring nature of Vitriol d'Oeillet. So might lovers of Caron's Poivre (which is vastly superior nevertheless) or of the dark, suffused imagescape of Garofano by Lorenzo Villoresi and E.Lauder's intense Spellbound. If you were looking for a classic, dense, feminine carnation floral or a minimal contemporary treatment oif the note such as in Oeillet Sauvage by L'Artisan Parfumeur, you might be scared by this violent yet diaphanous offering.

Oddly for the actual formula, since it's chartreuse liqueur which is infused with carnation petals and alchemically it is green vitriol which hides the greatest power, Vitriol d'Oeillet if of a greyish-lilac tint which looks someplace between funereal and alluringly gothic-romantic. The sillage is well-behaved, indeed subtle, perhaps because vitriol derives from the Latin vitrium, meaning glass, therefore denoting a certain transparency and lightness. Vitriol d'Oeillet is androgynous with great lasting power that seems to grow in depth, becoming a little bit sweeter and woodier as time passes.

Serge Lutens Vitriol d'Oeillet belongs to the export line, available at select stockists around the world and at the official Lutens site, 95euros for 50ml of Eau de Parfum. The limited edition engraved bottles depicted cost much more.

A generous-sized decant is available for one lucky reader. Draw is now closed, thank you!

What is it you find intriguing about the concept?

Amouage Honour Woman & Honour Man: fragrance reviews

I distinctly recall watching Cio-Cio San ritualistically commit suicide with her father's knife at the end scene of Madama Butterfly and thinking that despite the glorious music, the storyline lacked the tragic depths of Euripides's Medea, fresh in my mind from school. It was more simplistic too: one straight plot line, girl wins boy, girl loses boy, girl commits hara kiri. Surely, both heroines were cruelly abandonded by their foreign lovers for whom they sacrificed everything, but somehow taking one's life seemed to my childish eyes as an easy way out; eternally pining for the grave sin of filicide, uniting both tragic lovers & parents in pain, seemed vastly more weighty. But the Japanese notion of honour wanted it so and further exploration of Japonism acclimatized me with the idea in the end. Honour Woman and Honour Man, fragrances inspired ~as Christopher Chong revealed~ by the ending act of Puccini's Madama Butterfly, come as a stop at a multifarious course.

The prolific art director for Omani-based firm Amouage, C. Chong, is issuing perfume duos for some time now, having the best noses creating under his guidance: From the majestic Jubilation 25 for women and Jubilation XXV for men to the sweeping Epic for Men and Epic for Women, the rich fragrances have lured lovers of true luxury and superb raw materials creating something of a mini cult. Even when the skeleton is recognisable as belonging to a specific category met again, the fleshing out of the robust contours is impressive enough to warrant uniqueness.

In order to assess both Honour editions, it's essential to examine how they interpret the concept: Instead of playing out the scenario of Puccini's heroes in one's mind, it might be better to see the scents as a modern extention of a viewer who sees their shadows cast in the wings; oriental elements petering, but those are not reserved for the Far East, they also draw upon the Middle-Eastern tradition: incense, elemi resin, jasmine, the Spice Route, pepper worth its weight in gold and finally Indian tuberose...This amalgam of richness is woven into a tapestry that is not reminiscent of any one culture, yet stands on the edge between ancient, rich in resins & flower essences natural perfumery and the modern ethereal treatment that ensures fragrances remain contemporary as if fueled by electrified air.
Both Honour Woman and Honour Man are typically Amouage in their individual way, showcasing what natural oils can do to instil richness and depth in fragrance, possessing as they do a sort of 3D-expansion which reveals facets interlocking with each other in an olfactory Rubik's Cube.

Amouage Honour Woman, created by perfumers Alexandra Carlin and Violaine Collas, is galvanised by the power of pink jasmine, fruity, succulent and nectarous as if oozing sexy honey, floriental, womanly and seductive and yet light enough to be enjoyed during the summer. The bouquet reminded me of a less campy Vamp à NY, chokeful as that one is too of real, vibrant natural white flowers, hints of big Bazooka gum pieces laced with banana-fruit facets. Smelling Honour Woman on top, I'm struck by the swift progression from the peppery-camphoraceous green note which foreshadows tuberose (in reality spicy notes and that certain subtle root-beer touch which is so familiar to Americans) into the intensely sweet, fruity and upbeat jasmine heart that is all out nature red in tooth and claw. The white floral essences stimulate Honour Woman into a melodious cadenza that seems never ending, supremely lasting onto blotter, clothes, nostrils, soft skin, decolletage...And yet, the supporting of that floral sweetness by somber notes like green vetiver and serene incense makes Honour Woman a pliable, real femme who can yield under the power of love, rather than an hysterical madwoman who scatters her demands right and left. The success and beauty of Amouage Honour Woman lie in the balance of diva-esque characteristcs with the cool attitude of seeing the brightest morning light as the most natural thing in the world...which it is.

Notes for Amouage Honour Woman:
Top notes are coriander, pepper and rhuburb;
middle notes are carnation, jasmine, gardenia, tuberose and lily-of-the-valley;
base notes are vetiver, opoponax, amber, incense and leather.

Amouage Honour Man, composed by perfumer Nathalie Feisthauer is a decidedly spicy fragrance, with oriental-woody leanings. The intensity of its spicy top, a veritable plunge into the pepper shaker, is unsettling, grabbing you from both lapels and smacking down into submission. But oh, you want to discover what this tough story unfolds later on! Indeed, the pepper becomes almost oily, like the half smoky-half musty odour when you crack a mace, more than a tad resinous, thanks to elemi (a naturally pepper-like essence that compliments frankincense and enters into the blend of Eastern cencer incense mixes). The equally terpenic sides of this mix are soon embraced by the distinct green-rosy-camphor of geranium and blended woody notes of cedar, patchouli and vetiver, borrowing a slice of Amouage's Reflection. The cunning in Honour Man lies into presenting each note as a distinct pitch with sonorous timbre, yet also as unifying them into a chromatic scale that is heard like bass coming out from subwoofers in the larynx of some smoldering lion afar, coming closer and closer by the minute. In no way threatening, but impressive all the same, Honour Man should have lovers of Poivre Samarcande, Bang and Poivre 23 sniff appreciatively and try to unravel the complicated thread of its Eastern mythos for western men.

Notes for Amouage Honour Man:
Top notes are pink pepper and pepper;
middle notes are geranium, elemi and nutmeg;
base notes are vetiver, musk, patchouli, Virginia cedar, incense and tonka bean.

Eau de Parfum, 50ml for £120. Available at Harrods, Selfridges, Les Scenteurs and Amouage boutique, 14 Lowndes Street, SW1. Soon available stateside.

Related reading on Perfume Shrine: Amouage fragrance reviews and news

In the interests of full disclosure I tried the new scents via official samples sent by the company

Guerlain Aqua Allegoria Jasminora: fragrance review

It's easy to be convinced that the later day Aqua Allegorias have been subpar: The history of the Aqua Allegoria line by Guerlain proves they were not always so, yet the fruity examples of the last few years have been steadily dwindling. Nevertheless, I really surprised myself with Jasminora, Guerlain's latest addition in the line: A fresh jasmine floral which should delight fans of the classic Diorissimo (due to the latter's hyperbole of lily of the valley flanked by the grace of jasmine), as well as the acolytes of Chanel Cristalle and Ormonde Jayne Tiare (due to the crackling effect of both scents' citrusy trompe-l'oeil atop the green floralcy). The Aqua Allegorias have firmly moved from fruity territory into florals (judging by Flora Nymphea and travel exclusives Bouquet No.1 & Bouquet No.2) and if this one is any indication, there's hope yet!
 

According to Guerlain: "Aqua Allegoria Jasminora is a limited edition for 2011. This fresh floral fragrance opens with notes of galbanum, bergamot and cyclamen. The heart features Calabrian jasmine, freesia and lily of the valley, while the base consists of musk and amber."

In Guerlain's Jasminora the protagnonist is hedione (Methyl Dihydrojasmonate, the sparkling, limpid green note isolated from jasmine, paired with the lightening pepperiness of freesia. Here the perfumer used specifically Hedione HC from Firmenich, taking on citrusy touches reminiscent of bergamot juice and magnolia petals. The airy tang is complimenting the floral heart, taking on the refined delicacy of classic vintage Guerlain colognes (like in Eau de Fleurs de Cedrat) and echoing one of the most successful Aqua Allegorias, Flora Nerolia to date (Where the lightly bitter-sour neroli takes on a sensuous overlay, thanks to jasmine). The initial impression is one of electric shock, the peppery flash of freesia and some citrus creating a shockingly "fresh", piquant aura, the air ripe with the promise of rain.

This is supported by a chord of lily of the valley and jasmine which unmistakably translates as "green floral" (the resinous backbone of galbanum grass is furthering this "fresh", bracing impression). Hence my (tentative, as they're not really alike) comparison with vintage Diorissimo, especially in the lighter, fresher concentrations. But whereas the Dior classic veered into a decidedly naughty note in the background ~most notable in the extrait de parfum concentration~ in Jasminora the refined feel is that of a Japanese garden, misty at the edge of dawn and full with the electricity in the air before a rainstorm.
The aqueous elements are woven expertly alongside a sweet note reminiscent of the headiness of honeysuckle, resulting in an uplifting, refreshing melody which is heard though canopies of bright white. The lasting power is very good for an Eau de Toilette, in what is by definition a light genre, through the synergy of modern musks (only lightly powdery) and a subtle mossy note, boosting the freshness into an exploding sense of elation.

Much has been written about how Guerlain is abandoning la patrimonie of their impressive tradition, but with Jasminora they're revisiting part of that heritage with surprisingly credible results and a modern fresh feel. If I might be allowed to grumble amidst a positive review, it's a profound pity Guerlain reserved it for just a limited edition.

The newest Aqua Allegoria, Jasminora, by Guerlain, is available from major Guerlain stockists, £35 for the standard 125ml spray bottle.



Music by Manos Hadjidakis The waltz of lost dreams, from the 1961 Greek film Χαμένα Όνειρα (Lost Dreams).
Picture of Greek actress & dancer Maria Nafpliotou

Annick Goutal Le Mimosa: fragrance review

For a lover of mimosa, spoiled on the honeyed powdery facets of Caron's Farnesiana or the cassie-rich musky-animalic meowing of Une Fleur de Cassie (F.Malle), Goutal's take on the yellow pom-pom flowers seems anaemic and watery; too innocent, too puerile, too fleeting... In fact, if you're looking for a "true" mimosa (like the one by L'Artisan Parfumeur Mimosa pour Moi with its violet and milky undercurrent) you will be crestfallen.

The mimosa blossom is a sign of spring hope, nature's awakenings, blooming as it does all bright yellow and proud in the end of winter and decorating the countryside with its shady branches that are carrying hundreds of yellow fluffy little bundles of joy; childlike, optimistic, bursting with energy and sweet smiles. Composed of the absolute of mimosa, a hint of iris, peach and white musks, the Goutal take on this floral scent evokes a delicate and subtle sweetness. (See also Calèche Fleurs de Méditerranée by Hermès for a fine rendition)

The impression of Annick Goutal's Le Mimosa is nevertheless much more of a soft, fuzzy peachy note that overimposes itself over a Johnson's chamomille shampoo and clean orange blossom accord, the latter dominating the heart of the composition. Curiously enough, the (natural) mimosa absolute raw material is there (indeed it shares facets with the above, plus anisic nuances), so this is definitely an aesthetic choice; probably in line with the intended coherence inside the Goutal soliflores line. Perfumer Isabelle Doyen and Camille Goutal (Annick's daughter in charge of the house now) envisioned a soliflore that is ethereal, much like the other soliflores in their line-up (Des Lys, Le Jasmin, Le Cheuvrefeuille etc.). Eau de Charlotte already a good dosage of mimosa as well. They were also thinking of the audience who buy Petite Chérie and Quel Amour by the bucketload, apparently. Clearly I am not among them, preferring the intensity of Passion or Grand Amour, yet I can understand the need to play around a material which is almost emblematic of France and Grasse [Follow my route along the mimosa road on this link]. Le Mimosa is not entirely without merit.

Annick Goutal Le Mimosa is available at Annick Goutal stockists from February 2011 onwards. It was announced as a limited edition. The bottle takes on a polka-dot ribbon in yellow and black for the occasion.

Notes for Annick Goutal Le Mimosa:
bergamot, anise, mimosa absolute, iris, peach, white musk, sandalwood

Painting by Greek painter Knostantinos Parthenis, The Apotheosis of Athanassios Diakos, c.1933

Guerlain Shalimar Parfum Initial: fragrance review

Much as I was predisposed to at least enjoy the unashamedly girly Idylle Duet and dislike the sanctimonious (I thought) Shalimar Parfum Initial, both new releases by the historic house of Guerlain, the perfume gods tipped the scales off and landed me into a case of reverse hubris: I found myself being quite lukewarm on the former, while enjoying very much the latter! How's that for irony?

Indeed Shalimar Parfum Initial, credited to perfumer Thierry Wasser as well, is in almost an unrecognisable style to the other feminine release of this year: rich, satisfying, with a smoothly polished texture like silk moiré, it bears little relation to the anaemic and maudlin composition of Idylle Duet. A sufficient dose of healthy scepticism had struck me like a ton of bricks upon setting eyes on the press release images of the new flanker to the iconic Shalimar: a pink Shalimar, for Christ's sake? Isn't anything sacred? My eyebrows were reaching the roots of my hair in exasperation! But upon testing the actual jus on my skin and letting the blotters, lavishly soaked with it,  on my desk for some days I realised that, corny as it might sound, we're not to judge a book by its cover. Shalimar Parfum Initial is the brave, valiant and well-crafted effort of Wasser and Guerlain to present the house with their own Eau Première, much like Chanel did with their own numeric monstre. After all, much of Guerlain's prestige resides indeed with such venerable classics as Mitsouko and Shalimar.So, what's wrong with "Mon Premier Shalimar", the tagline for this flanker fragrance, assuming the juice is good? Absolutely nothing, that's what.

From a marketing angle, everything is set for success with Shalimar Parfum Initial, aiming at the target Guerlain is so keen on attracting, the fashionable 20-something to 30-something woman with money to spare: The warm pink-fleshy tint of the liquid is familiar to consumers of fruity and gourmand perfumes, attracting them by the token that the colour of the juice is indicative of something more than just a pretty shade. The boosting of citrusy notes up top (the synthetic bergamot is not wildly different than the one used in the reformulated classic, yet it smells more vivid and more vibrant here) give the necessary "freshness" that is a sine qua non for modern audiences. The lush vanilla and tonka ensure that the trademark sultriness of the seductive original is not lost nevertheless.
The beautiful bottle (much sleeker in real life than in images) is tactile, friendly, yet imposing too; its deep blue cap with a tiny ribbon attached an homage to the classic design but also a pretty object that presents itself as something novel. Naked Natalia Vodianova posing in the advertisements of the perfume, shot by Paolo Roversi, is testament to the fact that both men and women stop to stare (and occasionally ogle) at a beautiful supermodel who promises sex at the wink of an otherwise nubile eye.All boxes checked for the marketing team, thank you very much!

The composition of Shalimar Parfum Initial focuses on a precarious balance: the standard oriental accord of bergamot and vanilla is fused with zesty orangeyand light notes which "lift" the base up much like Shalimar Light did with its lemon cupcake opening modernising the old standby admired on grandmas and mamas, but shyed away from my the daughters. Still, what would Shalimar be without the come hither? Guerlain quotes rose petals and jasmine for the floral elements, but it's essential to note that should you be searching for florals, you should look elsewhere: this is a wonderful and wonderfully oriental specimen with little flowery prose; all heaving, all sighing, with the seductive warmth of tonka beans (rich in the cut grass and hay note of coumarin) and of rich, caramelic vanilla pods on woods and what seems like the resinous opoponax. The addition of fresh, warm and sweetish white musk is something that would be polarising for the standard perfumista in search of more complex, "dirtier" musk, but the growling part is transmitted through the low hum of the smoky base that is as animalistically seductive as a rutting beast, just hiding beneath the subtle eroticism promised by the top notes. If I were to find a fault with Shalimar Parfum Initial it is that in essence it is no less than the 4th re-twinkinling of the tried & true Shalimar Light Eau Legere recipe in search of a frontman presenting it to the public now that Jean Paul Guerlain is exiled from his own house...

Shalimar Parfum Initial is available as 40ml, 60ml and 100ml of Eau de Parfum concentration, available from major department stores.

Related reading on Perfume Shrine: Guerlain fragrance reviews, Oriental fragrance reviews

Flankers/derivative versions of Shalimar by Guerlain (with linked reviews & comparison with original):

Shalimar Eau Legere/Shalimar Light

Eau de Shalimar

Shalimar Ode a la Vanille

Shalimar Parfum Initial

Shalimar Parfum Initial L'Eau

Limited editions of Shalimar (without change in the perfume formula itself):

Eau de Shalimar Flower

Shalimar Charms edition & Eau de Shalimar Charms edition

Shalimar Fourreau du Soir

Shalimar extrait de parfum in Bacarrat quadrilobe flacon 2011 edition

The music in the commercial clip is Initials BB by Serge Gainsbourg.

Guerlain Idylle Duet: fragrance review

Perfumer Thierry Wasser was allegedly inspired by the work of classical composer Hector Berlioz (he of Symphonie Fantastique fame), specifically from his 1841 opus Les Nuits d'Été, towards evoking a certain feeling in Idylle Duet, Guerlain's latest fragrance and a flanker to their release from 2009, Idylle. Whether he succedded in that task or not, you will be able to judge by listening to the piece below (Op.7, Villanelle). As regards the fragrance, it's an entry that could stand in any other mainstream brand. Which, for Guerlain, is a let down, I'm afraid.

Patchouli, a sweet & sour mix of "special harvest" origin (allegedly), non heady-shop-y variety can be sensed from the very beginning of the composition of Guerlain Idylle Duet, imparting a "modern" feel, flanked by floral notes. Technically a floral woody, although presented as a floral, Idylle Duet is not wildly different from the original, although it differs in a couple of points that would make a difference to a trained nose. The core of florals beneath the always-on-the-front-of-the-vortex patchouli is that ever popular screechy floral accord of sanitisied jasmine, peony, freesia, and lily of the valley. In short, a commercially successful "base" of best-selling aromachemicals that are bound to stir the strings of familiarity in most (and irritate the hell of me); in fact this was especially present in the original Idylle, which clearly aimed to catch the Narciso Rodriguez type fans. To pursue the comparison with the original, Idylle Duet further lacks the raspberry top notes of the original Idylle, as well as the perceptible muskiness in its base, although the well documented staying power of white musk is summoned to make it stay the course.On the blotter it's imperceptible, but it grows in strenght as time passes.
Bypassing that, the rose here is a little liquerish, a little darkish, good traits, but something is missing. Rose and patchouli are such a popular combination that either tilting the scales towards the woody leafy constituent (as in Voleur de Roses by L'Artisan) or towards the multi-petalled wonder of nature (as in Portrait of a Lady or the rather better Une Rose in the F.Malle line), one is bound to come up with something at least memorable. Instead the new release, despite its limited edition nature, is passable but ultimately forgetable, like a catchy jingle you heard in passing.

Fragrance notes for Guerlain Idylle Duet:
Bulgarian Rose, Indonesian Patchouli, Jasmine, Peony, Freesia, Lily-of-the-Valley, Lilac, White Musk

Idylle Duet comes as the latest feminine mainstream distribution for the house of Guerlain,(apart from the two new Aqua Allegorias, Jasminora and Rosa Blanca, announced here and more on which shortly) but it's a limited edition ~apparently due to its ingredients, but don't hold your breath. The new Guerlain fragrance is available in Eau de Parfum concentration in a 35ml flacon shaped like its antecedent. The box presentation is the same as the one for Ode a la Vanille but this time in rosy gold.

Related reading on Perfume Shrine: Guerlain fragrance reviews, Guerlain news, Floral fragrances.



Soprano Jessye Norman sings Villanelle from Hector Berlioz's Les Nuits d'Été Op.7 on poems by Théophile Gautier. London Symphony Orchestra, 1979, conducted by Sir Colin Davies accompanies.

Oscar de la Renta Esprit d'Oscar: fragrance review & bottle giveaway

It's unusual in perfumery for the start of this century to encounter a modern composition which focuses on that loaded term which is dreaded by so many among the (younger) set: "a powdery fragrance". And yet, Esprit d'Oscar by Oscar de la Renta comes as an eminent sample of a youthful, modern re-interpretation of an age-old theme: the soulful cadenza of Guerlain's L'Heure Bleue. An old-school mainstream fragrance? Rub your eyes really well, perfumistas, this is no joke.

In more parts than it's considered good form to admit when launching a new fragrance, Esprit d'Oscar follows in the footsteps of the original Oscar by Oscar de la Renta from 1977; but that's a good thing! The lineage descending from the iconic Guerlain was evident then as it is now, but whereas the original Oscar was a symphonic floriental with the emphasis on the waft of its bittersweet tuberose message fanned on precious woods, in Esprit d'Oscar the melody is replayed with clarity on a single instrument with multiple keys, like a clavichord. The aniseed and violet accents that give the heliotrope in L'Heure Bleue its wistful, nostalgic character are here substituted by the sweetening of the almond facets of heliotropin. The citrusy top notes which open the fragrance on the other hand provide the necessary freshness to appeal to modern women of both younger and somewhat older age, shopping for a fragrance they can claim their own. Noting that Love, Chloé is also a recent entry operating on unmissable powdery tones, I think we're on to some new trend: old becomes new again!
Perfumer Frank Voekl is known for his streamlined approach which aims at a fragrance that acts as a mantle rather than armoury or clarion-call. On the whole, the axis of the new scent is tilted more to soft floral-oriental or even floral gourmand than to merely floral bouquet, and lovers of both categories are encouraged to sample. The leitmotif of Esprit d'Oscar rests on a fluffy almondy powdery note that supports, like a pampering duvet on which you fall back down on with relief, the floral notes of jasmine. The lemony inclusion lifts the jasmine heart just so, producing a refreshing, effervescent jasmine/white floral note. The white floral heart is rich, sexy and feminine, but non indolic. The synergy of vetiver and sweet (clean) musk (plus I believe a smidge of sandalwood) conspire to enhance the impression of clouds fusing into one another on the late afternoon sky.

So how did the brief begin? Ann Gottlieb, master creative director and responsible for several best-selling classics from the 80s onwards, had a specific context: "To capture the essence of what a woman desires in her fragrance, Oscar turned to his daughter Eliza to help create Esprit d'Oscar, an unmistakably feminine floral-oriental. Esprit d'Oscar opens with a distinct sparkle, realized through a bright, citrus bouquet of Sicilian lemon, bergamot and citron. At its heart remain fresh florals: Egyptian jasmine, orange flower and tuberose. A combination of musk, heliotrope, tonka bean and vetiver give Esprit d'Oscar a warm, long-lasting base."
Whimsical, romantic, beautiful....recommended, I say!

The bottle is even more beautiful up close. Inspired by the original Oscar Parfum bottle design, Oscar envisioned a package for Esprit d'Oscar that would marry the feel of the iconic original, with a fresh contemporary look. Sculptural glass and sleek feminine contours characterize the Esprit d'Oscar bottle. On top of its translucent flower cap, a glass pearl represents a single dewdrop, a symbol from the original Oscar story. When he was a boy, Oscar de la Renta imagined that if he woke up very early, he could take the dew from flowers to create a perfume…and so he did.

Notes for Esprit d'Oscar by Oscar de la Renta:
Top: Sicilian lemon, bergamot and citron
Heart: Egyptian jasmine, orange blossom and tuberose.
Base: musk, heliotrope, tonka bean and vetiver

Esprit d'Oscar is available in the (quite lasting and satisfying in its sillage) concentration of Eau de Parfum in 50ml/1.7oz and 100ml/3.4oz bottles for 78$ and 98$ respectively at select department stores. You can see info on oscardelarenta.com. Right now the code OSCAR10 will get you complimentary ground shipping.

For our readers I have one full bottle to give away!! If you want to be eligible, please comment including what you'd like to read on Perfume Shrine next. Draw remains open till Sunday midnight.

Painting by artbycedar
Disclosure: Sampled scent myself at store; giveaway bottle is a promo.