Thierry Mugler Angel: fragrance review

It's hard to bypass Angel by Thierry Mugler in the greater scheme of perfumery's historical progress, as it is truly seminal, a footprint on the path of perfumery as large as the Yeti's.
Olivier Cresp, its perfumer, is as much to credit with its innovation, as is its artistic director at Clarins (the Group that holds the licence for parfums Mugler) Vera Strubi, who envisioned the fragrance as a cult modern classic, and Jacques Courtin, president at Clarins, who insisted on developing the product first and only then seeing to its marketing plan; clearly an anomaly in contemporary perfume launching.

For Angel, Olivier Cresp and Vera Strubi sought into the identity of Thierry Mugler as a fashion brand and they came up with a fusion of childlike playfulness and iconic, haute couture boldness. On the one hand, the cotton candy and sawdust of the fun fair. On the other, the patchouli darkness of a handsome man in drag. The note of ethylmaltol which makes the cotton candy note in Angel, and which spawned like crazy, to the effect of saturating contemporary best-sellers with bucketfuls of it, was until 1992 fairly unused. Historically speaking it had been introduced in Vanilia by L'Artisan Parfumeur back when Jean Laporte directed the niche brand he founded in 1978, but its ice-cream cone girlishness was deemed too cute for proper perfumes; this was the time when perfumes roared with the bombastic spiciness of things like YSL Opium perfume and Estee Lauder Cinnabar.

Olivier Cresp took this discarded idea and flanked it with red berries, a dubious whiff of blackcurrant on top (recalling the success of The Body Shop's Dewberry) and the caramel softness of vanilla bringing out a sort of praline in the facets of natural patchouli oil.

The effect was stunning; warm and cuddly but also chocolate-y and dark, and the formula was painted blue, in mocking defiance of every possible evocation of feminine perfume, which until then was always some shade of hay or gold. Angel became le monstre sacré to dethrone Chanel No.5 in France and the rest is, as they say, history.

Monsieur Cresp, your place in the Pantheon is reserved, thank you very much.

Nubile Forms, Their Voices Echoing in the Woods

Cacharel produced a romantic (and I bet to be discussed) commercial for the first flanker of Anais Anais in 3 and a half decades (the original was issued in 1978), Anais Anais Premier Délice.
Sarah Moon gives her place to Olivia Bee (barely 19 herself) for this time around, shooting what looks like teenager models having a hippie good time in the woods. Dora Baghriche and Olivier Cresp of Firmenich have composed the new fragrance (eau de toilette 50 ml sells for 39,90 euros at the time of writing, international launch set for April 2014). The scent of Anais Anais Premier Délice starts with green pear, bergamot, galbanum and orange, with the heart familiarly floral with peony and hyacinth, while the anchoring notes include cocoa and cedarwood.

It's an interesting, though not novel, approach, since the flanker is supposed to capitalize on a well-established brand, which however has lost much of its fresh, youthful appeal now that its original audience is comprised of mothers with their own daughters. So, in order to capture the daughters, L'Oreal, who hold the licence to parfums Cacharel came up with this plan. After all, three quarters of the sales of Cacharel come from the perfume sector!

What do you think? Wow or Yawn? (I refer to the advertising aspect, rather than the list of notes)

What Scents Do Perfumers Wear?

“I wear the fragrances I am creating. My skin is my work instrument. When I have the time to wear some fragrances, I like to smell of Féminité du bois or Ambre Sultan by Serge Lutens, or some of my earlier creations for Jo Malone London like English Pear & Freesia.” So says perfumer Christine Nagel, "creator of  Narciso Rodriguez for Her (with Francis Kurkdjian), and several blockbusters including Miss Dior Chérie and Dolce & Gabbana The One for Her, before moving in-house at Jo Malone London to put her unique spin on the company’s traditional blooms" as per one article appearing on Australian Vogue.

 Most perfumers and people professionally involved in fragrances do not wear perfumes on their own skin as a matter of course or when working, so as not to get distracted. Yet sometimes they do indulge in their own creations (to better gauge them), the odd classic or two an aside, or at least they're saying so to bring more attention to their work. Francis Kurkdjian, Olivier Cresp, Daniela Andrier, Anne Flipo, Fabrice Penot of Le Labo, Erwin Creed, Frédéric Malle, Romano Ricci of Juliette Has a Gun, and François Demachy (head perfumer for Dior) share their secrets with the readers of Australian Vogue. Read the whole article on this link.

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

Cacharel Noa, Noa Fleur & Noa Perle: fragrance reviews & comparison

"Fit for nuns and virgins" is as enticing a description of fragrance [1] for some of us as talking of a scent weaving a web of seduction the way a femme fatale would. Clearly, it's not because we belong to either category, but rather that its programmatic unconventionality of what feminine fragrance should stand for makes it ripe for personal exploration. It's so easy to underestimate a fragrance just because it's widely available and comes from a brand that doesn't have haute or luxe pretentions such as Cacharel and Noa. I bet good money that were Noa issued by a niche company into some fancy-named contraption and fronted by a du jour perfumer it would elicit more enthusiastic response. Despite Cacharel's fashion presence and their rather large input in fragrance history (a pre-emptying floral in Anais Anais, a magical retro heliotrope in Loulou, the first aquatic fruit-oriental in Eden, a good effort at tobacco-laced feminine in discontinued Gloria) they fly under the radar on what concerns hard-core perfume lovers. Which is why we're here and have been reviewing the Cacharel canon for a little while now on Perfume Shrine.



Noa is an underappreciated little gem that didn't deserve the lack of attention it receives and which spawned somewhat less noteworthy flankers, called Noa Fleur (2003) and Noa Perle (2006). But let's see the strong and weak points of each and compare them.

The original Noa by Cacharel (1998) was composed by perfumer Olivier Cresp, the fragrance encased in a diaphanous bubble of a bottle, a zen approach to the spiritual 1990s (hence the tag line "the gifted fragrance", one would almost expect a Messiah in a bottle), designed by Annegret Beier.
The passage of a few minutes results in a slight recalibration of one's original view of Noa, which would have been of an aquatic floral: it's really a floral musk with a hint of powder and soapiness and a delightfully unexpected smoky wood top note. The initially detectable ylang-ylang blends into the background, while the soapy aspect of the musk intensifies as the minutes pass by, boosted perhaps by some aldehyde. This produces both a smooth, clean scent, but also a reduction in volume, making Noa appear "light" and "fresh", although don't let that fool you into thinking it doesn't last; it does.The musks are fuzzy, cozy, warmish and comfortable, accented by a small note of spice like coffee laced with cardamom. Tania Sanchez identifies the spice as cilantro.


Noa Fleur by Cacharel came next in 2003 and its take is more unisex than its rosy character would suggest. Essentially a clean, rather screechy floral, flanked by musky notes like hibiscus and white musks, plus pale balsam and indeterminate notes that project with a faint powderiness, it's predictable and pliable. The inclusion of black currants gives a rather fruity facet to the proceedings, but there is no denying this is a rose fragrance with more woodiness than a typical soli-rose. This would make it fit for those occasions when you just don't know what to wear; rushing out of the door to get the kids on the school bus, going shopping impromptu, having a last-minute "wanna pick you up?" date when you're uncertain of your date's tastes...But you could do better than that: Grab Gucci Eau de Parfum II or Miracle So Magic.


Cacharel's Noa Perle (2006) was co-authored by perfumer Domitille Bertier and Olivier Polge. The formula was reprised, resulting in a more fruity floral mold, in which however the distinctive note of hazelnut swifts things to a slightly more interesting direction than the average fruity floral. The opening is lightly sweet citrus reminiscent of clementines with that standard "clean" floral that companies peg as peony nowadays; the drydown is an inoffensive powdery musk plus milky woods. Noa Perle is a nice enough if completely inadventurous scent, but for the price and the lack of pretence, it's still a better option than many out there. Points taken for the glaringly fake "pearl" inside, made from 100% plastic. With a name like that...

[1] by Susan Irvine, 2000 Perfume Guide

Nina Ricci Nina (modern): fragrance review & comparison with vintage

I always wonder whether appearances correspond to the reality, the essence of a personality and vice versa, as I am sure you do too. The duality of a person is always fascinating to unravel. And an inconsistency often contributes to a greater fascination! Whether one will tolerate one in favor of another is entirely a personal matter. Nina, the modern perfume by Nina Ricci is such a case in point. It's hard to pass her by, because she's so popular ~even the bottle design was snatched by the producers of Twilight saga films, but courts decided in favour of Ricci in the end and it's now missing in action~ but the reality is less than convincing; at least for a purist such as myself, because it delivers and it delivers satisfactorily to its intended audience which is teenage girls if sales are any indication.

Created as a perfume to evoke in ladies' minds a modern fairy tale for “all young women searching for surprise and fantasy… in a wonderland where dreams dress reality”, as the advertising tells us, it promises to be magical and enchanting, full of charm and seductiveness. Fairy tales are the escapism valves of modern hectic lifestyles and if one is so easily within one's grasp, it seems like a much healthier idea than downing a couple of pills, don't you agree?

The store when the scent launched devoted their windows: a huge silver tree was posing, with factice bottles resembling glorious red apples hanging from its branches like magical instruments of witchcraft and pieces of ivory organza interlaid on a silvery snowy ground in the middle of summer. It was beautiful…. The bottle, designed by French agency LOVE, is indeed one of the most gorgeous of recent years, paying homage to Hypnotic Poison, Lolita Lempicka and Be delicious, but managing to be more friendly that any of those and less heavy than the former two. It is also reminiscent of another great bottle that has launched a few seasons ago, Delices de Cartier. Made of transparent glass and silver metal it becomes raspberry red by the inclusion of the bright-hued juice. On the top, silver leaves crown an ergonomic sprayer that sprays a fine mist.

The fragrance itself is touted as the brand's single most important release in 10 years, after several trials that didn’t take off as expected: Premier Jour and its variations – let’s face it- never took off (the same goes for Les Belles de Ricci, 3 interesting variations in similar bottles, long discontinued) although it’s a likeable perfume and the name of Nina Ricci has remained in its dove garlanded laurels for too long.

The modern Nina was composed by noses Olivier Cresp (the nose behind Angel, revamped Femme by Rochas and Noa) and Jacques Cavallier (of Eau d’Issey, Feu d’Issey, Ferragamo woman and Poeme fame) of Firmenich "with the Asian consumer in mind". I am not sure if by Asian they mean Chinese, Japanese, Thai people etc. (i.e. Far East) or they mean Middle-East and India, but the perfume could accommodate both tastes being tied with neither tradition or culture. The brand was simply hoping to strengthen their appeal in the international fragrance market and in particular in Asia, which is the emerging giant of consumerism.

Nina has a hard act to follow: Nina Ricci was one of the most popular couturiers in the mid-20th century fashion scene. Born in Turin in January 1883 she started as a highly talented apprentice, before devoting herself entirely to design.
She formed a partnership with her only son Robert in order to open her own Haute Couture house at 20, Rue des Capucines, in Paris. Her effort paid off well in quick success and just before the war the NINA RICCI firm occupied 11 floors and its workshops were filled with 450 workers.
Madame Ricci had a flair for highlighting the personality of her clients, resulting in very becoming dresses. She always favoured femininity over trends and elegance over dare. Ricci tried her hand in perfume making with the iconic spicy floral L’air du Temps, a fantasia of delicate undertones and tender warmth encased in the gorgeous Lalique bottle with the pair of doves on the stopper, that has been worn by our dearest and nearest for years. It managed to inspire numerous mysterious florals, Fijdi and Anais Anais being two of those and it became a bestseller in many countries, managing to sell one bottle every 3 minutes somewhere around the world! Alas, it has been so tampered with in its present version, as to render whiffs of it disappointing, failing to bring back the images of those loving female figures in our lives. A pity…
Farouche and Coeur Joie are another two legendary Nina Ricci perfumes that remain in the confines of the vast vault of on-line auction shopping...

Robert Ricci , however, Nina’s son, created or rather art-directed the original NINA perfume, a powdery floral with fruits and woodsy, green notes in homage to his late mother in 1987. Very recent in perfume terms... The experiment was very successful artistically, however the business end was not met satisfactorily, resulting in a semi-retirement of the old version, which is not available anymore.

The new Nina bears absolutely no resemblance to the older one, but the identical name surely causes trouble to the consumer and confuses those who like to order things on the phone or on-line. To compare modern and vintage Nina, whereas the old version was an affair of traditional elegance with a rich sparkle of aldehydes in the opening and a green chypre accord that was quite popular in the 1980’s ( if one considers the success of Diva by Ungaro), the new one is very different: The overall effect of the older version was delicately powdery and it smelled the way all perfumes smell in a young child’s mind: sophisticated, fabricated, not found in nature. It used costly ingredients that managed to evolve and mingle with one another in trails of white light.
The modern Nina is predictably a fruity floral with a gourmand touch. It opens on a very pleasing initial note of hesperidic crisp fruits that cascade off the bottle in rapid succession: lemon, bergamot, mandarin and especially lime"Caipirinha" (its approximation in non alcoholic form at least). The effect is sharp and surprisingly uplifting, like that of another pleasing fruity floral: Gucci Eau de parfum II (the lilac-pink juice in the heavy crystal lid square bottle), minus the berries.
The heart accord of red toffee apple with moonflower (an abnormality of nature, a new breed after a tornado at the Mohave desert, from what I recall from The Body Shop version) and peony is nicely balanced, quite sweet for comfort though, with a little vanillic veil that heralds the base of white cedar and cotton musk. That last ingredient alludes to lab work that produces the bulk of synthetic musks today. It manages to smell soft and enveloping, with an average tenacity on the skin, although on the blotter the candy and cedarwood effect are what remains mostly after the more effervescent notes have vanished. The drydown is vaguely reminiscent of the base of Mugler’s Innocent , a perfume variant on the Angel recipe without the patchouli, more orientalised/gourmand than Nina, surely, but with the same praline afterthought; of the two I vastly prefer the Mugler iteration.

Overall, it will disappoint those who expected something similar to the older version, and get the spirits up of those who love the fruity floral semi-gourmand recipe, although I can’t bring myself to say I love it and the genre has overstayed its welcome for faaaaar too long. The bottle however is another story…


The modern Nina is available in eau de parfum at major department stores.
The advertising commercial includes the late Russian model Ruslana Korshunova.

Cacharel Scarlett: fragrance review

It is with a sense of disillusionment that I encountered Scarlett by Cacharel while perusing the aisles of Sephora in search of a gift. The brand has something of νόστος, of L'Éternel Retour for me: Anais Anais with its funeral parlour lillies (no offence inferred) always attracted me with its subtle autumnal romanticism which so contrasted with our innocence of the times; Loulou has been a sweet memory of long-ago, a shadowed Lolitesque reprise of L'Heure Bleue behind the parapet of a circus (and it still has devoted fans); Cacharel pour Homme was rampant in school, even though it probably didn't merit quite such a popularity; Eden and Eau d'Eden had the merit of being completely individual in their own little way (a wet wools fruity-oriental and a watermelon ozonic that didn't hiss at you, respectively); Noa is a pretty white musk with a powdery little whiff that can be an office-friendly scent that's not completely trite thanks to a hint of coffee; and Gloria was ~before its unexplained discontinuation~ a pipe-tobacco dream on the lips of a modern young coquette posing at some night-club wearing a pailleté top and licking Amaretto off her lips.
Then they started producing über-sweet fruity stuff that was mediocre at best: Amor Amor, Promesse and Liberté seemed like efforts to tune in the craziness of everybody else issuing fruity florals with intense sweetness on a bed of cleaned-up patchouli, no doubt hot on the heels of Coco Mademoiselle's commercial success: efforts with results hard to deferentiate between and ultimately forgettable. Along with a pleiad of flankers that didn't shine any too brightly in the galaxy...

Scarlett goes even lower, reminding me of a deodorant mist or a shampoo more than a perfume and it really pains me to say so. Composed by such experienced and talented perfumers such as Honorine Blanc, Olivier Cresp and Alberto Morillas, it's probably a testament to the rush of companies to issue new things at a breakneck speed giving them about a week to come up with something. Or alludes to the desire to adress a pre-nubile audience raised on Japanese-style erasers and soapy non-perfumey "perfume" on their mothers: If you're brought up on Amazing Grace, anything more smelly than a bar of soap just might trip you into sensory overload. "Soapy" isn't necessarily bad, if done right: Great aldehydics of yore as well as modern musky florals prove it can be pleasant and even refined. The wrong kind however can tilt the scales into floor cleaner, deodorant cream and the laundry cupboard.

Scarlett starts on fresh pears that hint at the lightly gourmand and innocent opening of Petit Chérie by Annick Goutal and continues on girly transparent (and completely artificial, detergent-style) flowers, while vaguely being reminiscent of Juicy Couture overall only less polished. It completely belies both its wonderful flacon ~designed by Christophe Pillet~ and its fiesty name that would allude to passion and sensuality (this is neither O'Hara, nor Johansson). And just because someone had it phrased so very wittingly I am borrowing their words for once and quoting: "If Scarlett had worn this, she could have stopped the war all by herself. The yankees would have suffocated on their approach to Atlanta, and Rhett Butler would have donned a bonnet and crinoline and danced with Ashley Wilkes rather than endure our whiffy heroine".

But its invitation is so short-lived that a testing spree shouldn't leave you with too much to wash off, so do give it a try when you approach a department store and see if you think differently. I thought it wouldn't work too great on blood stains anyway...

Lancome Magnifique: fragrance review and musings

C'est magnifique, mais ce n'est pas la guerre. (It is magnificent, but it isn't war).
~Pierre Bosquet

Lancôme presented their latest fragrance Magnifique to the press featuring their new ambassador, actress Anne Hathaway, at the Grand Palais in Paris. Talented and pretty stars are nothing new in the Lancôme galaxy and their previous choice of Kate Winslet as new face of Trésor had me enraptured. Hathaway (who had professed a predeliction for Chanel's Chance) is equally lovely in a Snow White suit instead.
Magnifique set out to olfactively interpret the colour red, from the bottle, to the colour scheme of Hathaway's dress, to the admitedly cheddar-heavy US print-ad. Hence to avoid the latter factor, I chose a picture from the upcoming Peter-Lindberg-directed commercial, in which Hathaway poses as a cross between a Nikolaos Gyzis and Edward Hopper model.

Technically, Magnifique is a spicy woody floral, composed by Firmenich perfumers Olivier Cresp and Jacques Cavallier (a collaborating duo on many popular fragrances).
The inspiration, according to Woman's Wear Daily was Nargamotha/cypriol (Cyperus scariosus). Nagarmotha is a plant of the Cyperaceae family, also called Nagar Mustaka, which grows wild in the Madhya Pradesh region of India. Highly-prized for its roots, it is often used in compounding perfumes (especially since it acts as a fixative and is quite economical), in the manufacturing of soaps and incense sticks, as an insect repellent and for medicinal purposes. Associated with milkweed, Indian nard, jatamansi and fekhand, it appears in the spells of Vashikarana: It's said that a man applying it to his forehead is assured of a long series of successful love affairs!
Steam distillation of the tubers of cypriol yields 0.075-0.080% of an essential oil, the principal content of which is cyperine. The smell of nagarmotha is woody, earthy and quite lingering; it mostly conjures a hybrid between cedar, vetiver and patchouli, with fleeting touches of cinnamon and frankincense giving a churchy feel.
Reportedly, Cresp and Cavallier came upon it while in India and liked it so much that they opted to include its essential oil in their Magnifique fragrance. Somehow this is my first stumble: really? Such acclaimed and experienced perfumers were unaware of this old ingredient and just now discovered it?

What is naughty is that there is a perfume product thus named, produced by Innospec:

"A group of fragrance industry experts has given an enthusiastic review to three of Innospec's products- Cypriol, Vetimoss, and Verdirosa. The occasion was the British Society of Perfumery symposium, held last month [July] at Towcester. Lester Bowman, head of Innospec Active Chemicals for Europe, the Middle East and Africa gave a talk to the group, and Peter Whipps, a freelance perfume expert presented the three fragrances. Cypriol, which has a spicy floral fragrance, was presented in a linden blossom room spray and peach base, where it confers the rich, natural aroma of real flowers. As well as offering good odour of its own, Cypriol has a substantial floralising effect on any fragrance".

(Source Innospec)

Cypriol has been rather popular lately: a component of the latest Musc Nomade by Annick Goutal as well as Dzongha by L'artisan (where it is noted as a Papyrus note, Cyperus Papyrus, a member of the same family), Rose Kashmirie by Parfums de Rosine, the newest By Killian Prelude to Love, and Tom Ford for Men ~latter claimed to be the first to use cypriol: "that slightly dirty, sensual, sexy smell...It's not the same as natural musk used to be, but it has a bit of something that some people would think slightly dirty...I think it's warm and sensual." That claim is of course an euphemism, to put it politely: they probably publicized the fact first, since cypriol use goes as far back as Xeryus, a floral woody semi-oriental masculine by Givenchy, developped by Firmenich, in 1986! And if I am not too mistaken in Eau d'Issey pour Homme too in 1994. They're seriously putting us on, it seems!

To revert to Magnifique and how it smells, Lancôme didn't veer off far on their use of their emblematic rose, a note used in most of their fragrances under one guise or another (with the exception of mighty crispy O de Lancome): many perfume lovers report a profound love for Mille et une Roses, while the peachy-rosy Trésor has its own ardent fans.
There is indeed a round rose nuance in Magnifique that veers into fruity-jammy; still, the fragrance is not considerably floral, less so rosy in the flowers-on-the-stem kind. Rather Magnifique starts as a lightly effervescent, spiked-soda sort of fragrance,with a light peppery bite and sweet fruity tonalities defying the listed cumin, as the fragrance does not present any sweaty side at all. Nor is it especially woody, which is a suprise after all the insistence on that aspect, although the nagarmotha essence does make a solid appearence; the woods are pale, pleasantly powdered but ultimately vacant-eyed and unchallenging, ready to smile and strike their best side for the camera (and yes, they do know which is their best one!). If you have watched "Diary of a Princess" with the lovely Hathaway, they're the "after" part, even though the "before" wasn't that wild either...

"The challenge was to work on wood", Cresp claimed nevertheless. Why challenge? Due to the slim number of woody juices aimed at women, since woody notes are traditionally regarded as masculine. There is of course a handful which are excellent and not masculine-smelling at all: the iconic Bois des Iles by Chanel, intent on sandalwood; the notorious Feminité du Bois by Shiseido or Dolce Vita by Dior, both focused on cedar. Then again there are fragrances that pose an androgynous spin such as the chic Sycomore, the latest in Chanel's unisex Les Exclusifs line, fleshing out vetiver.
A similar risk was taken by Lauder's newest feminine, Sensuous, a very similar to Magnifique ~albeit milkier and heavier~ composition which tries to change the demographic to a lower age group than the typical Lauder clientele according to Chandler Burr.
Therefore the challenge seems to be on the business side more than on the olfactory one!

There appear to be segments of other ideas in Magnifique: the sweet patchouli vibe of Attraction, Lancome's own less successful previous release from 2003 (which might illustrate the fact that discarded mods never trully get discarded ~and please consider the discontinued lactonic woody Feu d'Issey by Cavallier there too, will you?), or the fruity woodiness of Gucci by Gucci; maybe even the jammy earthiness of Rabanne's Black XS, as well as Dior's Midnight Poison or Elle by Yves Saint Laurent (latter two notably by the same noses).
Which brings me to an interesting question: what segregates some of the above as "modern chypres" in taxonomy, while Magnifique is a "woody"? The edges blurr in my mind and it seems to me that "woody" has now become just fancy jargon to denote edginess, a sort of fashionista It-term; I predict we will be hearing it often from now on, mark my words.
Furthermore, woody fragrances often cross borders in niche lines, being shared by both sexes, which brings me to my next point: The derivative aspect of mainstream brands trying to replicate niche trends is a manifestation of both the market's oversaturation with offerings that focus on tired vogues (the avalanche of fruity florals and trite gourmand vanillas for women, the conventional citrus woodies and screechy marines for men) as well as the desire to tap into the pool of perfume lovers who scout the micro-niche lines for something different, but cannot always have it readily accessible due to exclusivity.

Magnifique is commendable for turning its back on tired concepts. It can thus be viewed as a step in a good direction, but also as the height of cynicism in fragrance business in view of the above. I will give them the benefit of the doubt for now and hope that more companies in the mainstream sector try to diversify.

Official Notes: mandarin, saffron essence, cumin, cinnamon, Bulgarian Rose essence, absolute of Rose Mai de Grasse, jasmine, Australian Sandalwood essence, Indian nagarmotha, vetiver.

Magnifique comes in 50ml/1.7oz and 75ml/2.4oz of Eau de Parfum concentration (with accompanying Bath Cream and Body Lotion in 200ml containers) and has just launched in the US (initially as an exclusive to Bloomingdale's). It will be available around the world in September through major department stores.

For those able to read French, please visit my good friend S. on Ambre Gris for another view.

Pic of Anne Hathaway courtesy of I'm not Obsessed.Bottle pic courtesy of Fragrantica.

The Making of a Perfume

The newest Yves Saint Laurent perfume, Elle, got a sweeping advertising campaign replete with a little clip of the Making Of. Perfume Shrine brings it to you for your witty commentary.
Jacques Cavallier (the one in the dark clothing) and Olivier Cresp talk about the creation of their latest feminine fragrance by Yves Saint Laurent. Please note that this seems to be an official demonstration clip!


(uploaded by elleYSL)

It is rather interesting that those two esteemed noses go on and on about femininity with a masculine touch (emblematic of Yves Saint Laurent modes), originality and vision: to me Elle had none of those aspects to any great degree, I confess.
It is also rather odd that they hold the jars of different raw materials (plants and flowers) for the camera, demonstrating their inclusion in the composition. There is a subtle illusion here, as if the materials are actually ingrained in the juice, which is not always the case as we well know. Of course the official formula never makes it out to the public and so any insider info I might be divulging to you from time to time is just that: insider info.
But holding up tubes of aromachemicals detracts from the "dream" of fragrance being all about exoticism and naturalness, I gather. (Even if Cavallier and Cresp would wanted to, I doubt the marketing executives would let them do that!)

For some reason the patchouli used in the majority of recent feminine releases does not smell especially natural to me: it lacks the mellowness and dirtiness of natural, aged, good quality patchouli which I have in my little inventory at home and Elle is no exception. Instead it is clean, hinting at shadowy, but not quite. Pleasant no doubt, but has overcome its welcome becoming ubiquitous.

Here is the accompanying commercial for Elle, with canadian supermodel Coco Rocha.(Now there's a name!) She's much younger than appearing to be in this, but the styling of Le Smoking eternel is smashing I have to admit.


(uploaded by laurentCM)

But to tell you the truth, I had the most fun while reading this story by blogger Kristopher Dukes. It's a classic!! Seriously, go read it!

Please check back later for another surprise post on perception.

Givenchy Ange our Demon: Repossessed? Fragrance Review

There are some deeply seated feelings and memories in all of us and smell has an uncanny way of unlocking them. The launch of Givenchy’s Ange ou Démon (meaning angel or demon and marketed under "Ange ou Etrange" in Muslim counties) has been such a case recently.
Promising a dichotomy that was much anticipated –nay… longed for- in an era that overindulges its gluttony streak that runs through the ever-dieting masses, everyone was expecting the duality of a light/dark scent.
The advertorial in the LVMH on-line mag enticed us with this: “The new feminine fragrance […] is an invitation to succumb to that most powerful charm, an enigmatic scent created from shadow and light.
With elegance, inspiration, playful spirit and exceptional quality, Ange ou Démon is a concentrate of Givenchy’s values. A highly sophisticated structure, precious and rare ingredients and the generous emotions unleashed, all combine to make this a scent in a class of its own.
The truly splendid olfactory universe of Ange ou Démon unfolds around the purest lily and the deepest oak wood.”

Created by Firmenich’s Olivier Cresp and Jean-Pierre Bethouart, the new floriental was aimed at creatures that were not targeted by their Very Irrésistible offering with the lovely and angelic Liv Tyler to front it. It wanted to play up the dark card, the forbidden.
Images and insinuations to the forbidden have been tied to perfume advertising from time immemorial. Psychologist Joachim Mensing has this to offer: “Wearing a sinful scent is a way of living out your alter ego’s ideal existence without the risks of acting it out in real life”. Especially women, I think, trapped in the Madonna/whore exigencies of male fantasy.
Therefore, an avalanche of sinful scents including such gems as My sin, Deviltry, Tabu, Magie Noire, Bandit and lots of others has been tumbling over us for the past century or so. Witchcraft, possession,Hecate worship and demonic names have had their fair share in this. It will never end as people are simultaneously lured and appalled by such notions. Ange ou Démon looked to be in this illustrious line. Sadly it did not deliver, at least for me.

The modeling face is Marie Steiss, née Marie de Villepin, the daughter of former French Prime Minister Dominique de Villepin. She changed her name to Steiss to pursue a career in modeling and acting. Maybe it also has to do with the fact that her father is so unpopular now despite being quite dashing. (certainly in the league of politicians of Pierre Trudeau or J.F. Kennedy good looks). The girl isn’t bad looking, but certainly not evocative of angelic/demonic nuances. The dark roots under the “big” blonde which alludes to Debbie Harry are not much help, I’m afraid. However the next rumoured Givenchy scent, probably called Bourgeois, might be grist to her mills.

The design of the bottle is meant to resemble a crystal from a costly chandelier, in the shape of a spear or a sinner’s tear (your choice) with a colouring degradé from light to dark, evoking the duality of the name and the scent. Although it was not to my exact taste, it does look luxurious and sturdy, I have to admit, unlike many others on the market from equally prestige brands.

The scent itself is built thus (info from Escentual):

TOP NOTES - Crystalline Femininity: white thyme essence, mandarin from Calabria and saffron essence. HEART NOTES - Radiant Nobleness: noble lily, ylang-ylang, orchid maxillaria. BASE NOTES - Mysterious Addiction: tonka bean, vanilla, palissander wood and oak wood essence.
Well…..hmmm…….

Upon initial spraying a very cleaning-fluid-like note emerges, cool and with herbal elements that I am sorry to report do not remind anyone of the culinary thyme. There is no trace of the tartness I associate with mandarin either. The lush florals come to the fore with their intense headiness; lily is particularly evident, and has a penetrating smell combined with ylang ylang which smells true enough. There is a very candied aroma to the floral, which surprised me, because although lots of florals are sweet by nature, they do have a different nuance to them, more piercing than flat saccharine. This is vaguely reminiscent of the syrupy sweetness of Hypnôse by Lancôme or Armani Code, two scents suffice to say, I am not particularly attracted to. Those two do share common elements among them, enough even to label them “olfactory cousins”. [Many others in the market tout their orientalised woody sweetness too, from Boucheron Trouble to Le Baiser du dragon by Cartier. The latter two however do not bear a resemblance to Ange ou Démon, but merely illustrate tendencies in the industry.]

Orchids from a hothouse do not have the scent they are naturally supposed to have and therefore I am not the best judge of this particular note. I did search about what maxillaria orchid is, though and the result was this. Seems like the coconut emission of the blossom does contribute to the sweetness, although I cannot be conclusive on such aspects.
However the swirl of silky saffron does make an emphatic appearance and softens the top and heart notes that supposedly smell of “crystalline femininity” and “radiant nobleness”. A slight peppery smell is evident too.
A good thing, since vanilla and tonka bean would divert this into confectionary avenues I am best far away from. In another mix, of sour or bitter tendencies, these two notes would provide the much necessary plush, but not here.
Oak wood in the base, along with pallisander, promised a more chypré/woody quality and the culmination of the drydown is imbued in rich woody essences, with a little bit of powder. Perhaps oak wood is an attempt to bypass the IFRA restrictions on the use of oakmoss in fragrances, although the two are not identical in smell obviously. This is just a guess on my part.
The lasting impression is not that of a deep orientalised fragrance. It lacks that certain roundness coupled with some kick which fragrances of that category possess, despite the vanillic/oak drydown. And although overall candied, it has a weird smell of faint underlying mustiness that doesn’t mix well with the top elements. The transition is not seamless.
The lasting power is good, which of course might be a Damocles’ sword.

Actually the top and heart was so disturbing to my subconsious that it immediately got me on the thinking track hinted by the pic I chose for today. Linda Blair as Regan Teresa MacNeil from The Exorcist is not an image we are going for. At least I hope not.
Not even the handsome Max von Sydow can save me from the ghostly memories.

This 1973 cinematic classic by master director William Friedkin is in fact so terrifying in a deep-rooted, subconscious way that it has never ceased haunting me since I first watched it in my teens. And yes, I did watch it again as an adult, more than once. No more splatter than lots of other films out there, no more credible in its storyline either; yet, its power lies in the fact that it makes one believe that evil does exist and it spares no one, not even innocent little children and this is a deeply disturbing thought… Let’s hope they don't get repossessed chez Givenchy!

The eau de parfum comes in 50ml and 100ml. Spray bottles at 65 euros and 95 euros respectively and I am told that the scent flew off the shelves in the first days of its launch in the UK and in the States. The creation of a bath/body line simultaneously with the launch of the scent hints at them knowing something I do not. Perfectly plausible, I'll give you that.