Eau d'Italie Magnolia Romana: fragrance review

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

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

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

S-Perfumes S-Perfume Classic: fragrance review

The blinding white of Oia on Santorini island, Greece, against the pale blue of the natural pools contained within some of its cave-houses is not totally alien to the idea behind S-Perfume Classic by super-niche brand S-Perfumes.The same feeling of freshness and serenity -and perversly enough energy as well- reigns in both.

Source: bluepueblo.tumblr.com via Perfume on Pinterest

The S-Perfume "house" began in 2000, the first all-original perfumery to come out of Brooklyn, New York, though not the first one to be founded by a completely unrelated to perfumery individual. Nobi Shioya is a sculptor with an interest in scent who used various fragrances to scent his “Olfactory Art” installations. Nobi ~under the nom de plume Sacré Nobi~ brought on board perfume veterans such as Carlos Benaim and Sophia Grojsman. As Chandler Burr said: “Shioya shares with the scent-architect Frédéric Malle a Woody Allen-ish knack for convincing stars to work for him.” They began to create a series of scents as an art project with very fancy ad copy and very limited distribution  (Which sorta begs the question how the hell did certain non-professional people get on his wares so very, very early on, but I'll leave this to the more sleuthing among you). Word of mouth made the brand something of a mini-cult, not always deservedly (From the newly relaunched and pared down to three range S-ex is by far the most interesting and 100%Love the most wearable).

S-Perfume Classic was originally composed by Alberto Morillas under the project name Jet-Set 1.0 (all the S-Perfumes had conceptual names back then, taking inspiration from the seven deadly sins originally and later taking abstract names such as 100% Love). Christophe Laudamiel re-orchestrated it somewhat to its current formula, sold now as S-Perfume "classic". The label also changed, this time bearing a sort of sketching protozoon (or spermatozoon, if you prefer).

The ambience of the S-Perfume Classic is that of contemporary non-scents: Like Molecule 01 from Escentric Molecules, this is something that doesn't quite register on the cortex but moves like an abstract clean-musky aura around, coming in and out of focus. The ozonic, oxygen touch coupled with the "clean" factor of lavender, aromatic somewhat masculine-smelling herbs and sanitized musk -consisting of the familiar to all via functional products Galaxolide musk type- soon eschews all images of sensuality (The official notes mention creamy, cozy ingredients such as sandalwood and vanilla substituted by Laudamiel for the benzoin which Morillas had used, which nevertheless should not at any rate lead you to believe that we're dealing with a predominantly sensual affair of a skin-scent; the most you get is a hint, a tiny hint of suntan oil at a distance).
On the contrary, S-Perfume Classic has the salty zingy skin-like smelling effect of L'Eau Ambrée by Prada, airated by the coolness encountered in Serge Lutens's L'Eau Froide (but arrived to through totally different means) and is not a classic warm "beachy" fragrance.

Morillas had utilized the "clean" and "energetic" idea to impressive effect already in CK One (collaborating with Harry Fremont) and Mugler's Cologne, balanced with subtler salty-skin and herbs accents in the discontinued CK Truth (with Jacques Cavallier and Thierry Wasser)and adding a touch of cool spice in Bulgari's BLV. Laudamiel emphasized the somewhat rubbery facets recalling neoprene with a subtle woody-powdery finish that is sometimes perceptible and sometimes is not. But it's the shiny, almost hurting the eyes oxygen blast, as squeeky clean as the eyesore one gets upon opening their windows to a blinding white winter day decked in a yard of snow, or the whiteness of the water inside a surf wave, which stay in one's memory.

Notes for S-Perfume Classic: ozonic note, muguet mist, thyme, lavender, musks, sandalwood, vanilla bourbon

Montana Suggestion trio: Eau d'Argent, Eau d'Or, Eau Cuivree ~fragrance reviews

Years before niche perfumery came up with "collection of scents" in identical bottles and "concept" themes evolving around different families or notes, Claude Montana (the designer best known for his scalpel-cut jackets, the partner who flew off her verandah and Parfum de Peau) had proposed his own trio of fragrances, code-named Suggestion (1994). The triad included Eau d'Argent, Eau d'Or and Eau Cuivrée and came just 2 short years after Serge Lutens inaugaurated Les Salons du Palais Royal by Shiseido with his own iconoclastic "takes" on Féminité du Bois (in 1992), thus giving rise to a whole seperate eponymous line which became legendary at the drawing of the millenium. (Technically the first one to propose a "trio collection" should be Patou). The fragrances by Montana were ill-fated though, like the unlucky stars under which the designer and his muse were apparently born, and were eventually discontinued. Still, the dedicated perfume lover might profit from making their acquaintance, as they're both worthwhile sniffing, as well as a valuable lesson in fragrance history; seeing the mainstream launch of a "niche" concept commercially fail where others now succeed, with the hindsight of almost 2 decades in the passing between the two (see for instance La Prairie trying the same things with their Life Threads).



The common thread in all Montana Suggestion scents? A vague metallic nuance, bright, scintillating, radiant. The metals entering both the name and the bottle decoration are ample indication of it being intentional.

Suggestion Eau d'Argent is, judging by the packaging alone, one might say Pavlovian-like, equated with a cool aquatic floral; and it is! Composed by Max Gavarry, it pre-empties the notion of the dew-adorned ocean drenched lilies which later appeared in F.Malle's line under Lys Mediterranée. Of course the compass isn't showing the North ~or rather the South, as the Malle scent is so at home in the warm Provencial and Grecian air~ as accurately. Eau d'Argent is very good but not as masterful or daring (it lacks the salty, savoury touch). The scent of lily (and the aldehyde used for cyclamen renditions) is brought out to the fore through the use of lily-of-the-valley aromachemicals (read about those on this article) and underlined with a dewy, "clean" musky ambience plus Ambroxan. It feels much more legible and "kind" than the feminine L'Eau d'Issey, both being contemporaries with a dewy feel. It also probably gives a frist glimpse of the idea for Marc Jacobs's first eponymous scent, supposedly inspired by gardenias floating on a bowl of water. Substitute cool lilies and you're there! Very nice on its own ~controversial, let's admit it~ genre and completely unsung.
Top notes are greens, mandarin orange, violet, peach, bergamot and Brazilian rosewood; middle notes are cyclamen, lily, orchid, jasmine, lily-of-the-valley and rose; base notes are sandalwood, amber and musk.

Suggestion Eau d'Or was composed by Nathalie Lorson (who has composed the glorious Poivre 23, the Le Labo London city exclusive, which we reviewed on this page, amongst other things). A floral built on the juxtaposition of lactonic peachy and green notes with a heart of classic and bright flowers, this is a floral that radiates off the blotter and off the skin with quality and balanced approach to its message. The blossoming of jasmine and rose are supported by a fruity embrace of peach underscored by ionones (giving an earthy sweet note, also a bit of powder) and a creamy vanillic drydown, not too sweet. A floral, veering to floriental, with a cool-warm contrast that plays like chiaroscuro. Those who like J'Adore or Nuit de Cellophane might find another compliment-getter sunny floral in this one.
Top notes are comprised of greens, violet, peach, hyacinth and bergamot; middle notes are orchid, orris root, jasmine, lily-of-the-valley and rose; base notes are sandalwood, amber, musk, vanilla and cedar.

Suggestion Eau Cuivrée in its copper-dressed, patina-reminiscent bottle looks and feels warm and is predictably the more orientalised in the trio. Still, not quite a dense, traditional oriental, it features green-citrusy opening notes and a rich floral heart with a metallic nuance, justifying its coding: more modern urban amazone than Shalimar-wearing movie goddess, thanks to the base encompassing Ambroxan and cedar notes. Cooler, sweet top notes with lusty plum are folded into a warmer heart of luscious flowers and what seems like a hint of spice (they say carnation, it's actually built on cloves). The warmth is amped via the synergy of resinous notes played at the key of the lamentably defunct Theorema: meaning lightly, pleasurably balanced, never overwheling. Very pleasurable work, composed by Gerard Anthony.
Top notes are orange, pineapple, plum, green notes, peach and bergamot; middle notes are carnation, tuberose, orange blossom, orchid, jasmine, ylang-ylang and rose; base notes are sandalwood, amber, musk, benzoin, vanilla and cedar.

The scents had bottles which interlocked nicely in a round "plate", their sides touching like lovers or spirits-evoking-spiritualists sitting across a rounde table touching hands... They were sold as is or independently in Eau de Toilette concentration. They make sporadic appearences on auction sites and discounters.

Un Matin d'Orage by Annick Goutal: fragrance review

In Giambattista Basile's charming tale The Murtle from Il Cunto de li Cunti (The Tale of Tales, 1694), a sprig of myrtle is transformed through the liberating love of a prince into a beautiful woman who regenerates even after evil forces tear her to pieces. Almost tasting the thick retro-baroque prose of the author I am contemplating how the essence of the tale is caught in a fragrance which defies the stylistic approach, choosing to place magic and beauty into a zen setting. Un Matin d'Orage, the latest fragrance by Annick Goutal, means "Stormy Morning" and was inspired by a Japanese garden after the rain, evoking the idea of delicate white petals in dew, with discernible notes of gardenia, jasmine sambac and Indonesian champaca.

Isabelle Doyen, resident perfumer for parfums Annick Goutal, is ingeniously re-interpreting both gardenias and ozonic floral fragrances through an approach akin to painting a watercolour in vivid hues which make you momentarily doubt the duo-dimensional reality of thick drawing paper; an oxymoron that is breaking somewhat with both the well-worn-slipper feel we have come to expect of prettified, neoclasical scents of the Goutal portfolio (for the flowing haired Ophelias and the accompanying Mr.Darcys with bohemian fashion sense) and the en masse manner in which white florals are treated from the perfume industry as creamy textured pattiserie notes folded into huge tropical leis. Like I had said when first reporting the news of the upcoming Goutal fragrance: "This conceptually reminds me of both Après l'Ondée by Guerlain (the after-the-shower garden part) and Un Jardin Après la Mousson by Hermès, (the Monsoon storm evocation ) although from the listed notes one would deduce that the limpid bog water and transparent gloom might not be there. Although Annick Goutal already has a fragrance tagged Gardenia Passion in their line, the scent actually emits the ruberry feel of a proper tuberose rather than gardenia, so it's not like they're re-hashing ideas." Indeed the watery aspect is here but with a softer, less stagnant fruity or spicy nuance than the Hermès offering. Nevertheless if Fleur de Liane for L'Artisan Parfumeur, Vanille Galante and Un Jardin Après la Mousson for Hermès and now Un Matin d'Orage are any indication, the Lazarus-resurgence of the aquatic floral is looking like a strong contestant for your attention in the following couple of years at least.

Gardenia is a fascinating blossom, no less so because of its extensive scope of transformative stages: from the slightly bitter budding greeness, the mushroom-like overtones of musty wetness (which nota bene it was Colette who first described as such), into the lush, still fresh flower that has just opened; and from then inevitably seguing into creamy, narcotically sweet and velvety ripeness, into the dying stage of indolic decay when the petals brown and wither...Such a parallel with human growth and decline could not have escaped the attention of perfumers who have been trying to replicate the effects with styrallyl acetate (naturally found in gardenia buds), jasmolactones and at scarce cases with monumentaly expensive gardenia absolutes rendered through experimental enfleurage. Some gardenia perfumes try to be figurative, creating a very realistic olfactory image of gardenia bushes like the ones composed for Yves Rocher (Pur désir de Gardenia), the wondrous hologram of Private Collection Tuberose Gardenia by Lauder or cult-scent Kai. Some don't even try, despite the name, like the suavely musky Cruel Gardénia, traitors to holy causes with variable results. Others go for baroque exagerration which like an angled composition by Caravaggio creates tension through dramatic chiaroscuro and the accentuation of one facet over others, pushed to extremes; example: Tom Ford's Velvet Gardenia. And others still go for an impressionistic approach in which the gardenia becomes an accent piece in a moment suspended ad infinitum, when a coalescence of particular elements creates a dreamy memory ~like gardenias floating on a bowl of water in some postmodern urban appartment in Marc Jacobs eponymous Eau de Parfum, a willowy girl with lank, dark hair picking one up to put behind her ear.

In Un Matin d'Orage that flowing gardenia on the water is prickling and alive, discernible as such, and coming out of the bowl, breathing deeply the steely blue air, under a drizzling mist that showers it with flinty sparks of an impending electrical storm. The tension is provided by a jolting effect of dew-drenched leafy accents reminiscent of green tea and still whitish peach-skin with a slight smokiness and lemony-anisic accents (magnolia, ginger, shiso*) that provide an intriguing contrapunto to the floral smoothness of gardenia, green jasmine vines and champaca. The ozonic cool part feels like a new technique has been short-cirquited into creating what was 15 years ago created through Calone but without Calone*. The flowers are separating into soft billowing layers that overlap, creating a smooth impression of dewy beauty. The jasmine is green and cool between hedione and orange blossom, like the one rendered in Pure Poison. There is no meekness in the gentility, no paleness in the ether of Un Matin d'Orage and the impression subsists for a long time, as if we're left to see a zen garden tingling after the storm. Not for tropical gardenia lovers, but to be explored by modern anchorites.

Notes of Un Matin d'Orage by Annick Goutal:
Sicilian lemon, perilla leaves**, ginger, gardenia, magnolia, jasmine sambac, Indonesian champaca, sandalwood.

The characteristic feminine bottle of the Goutal perfumes gets a pearly white opalesence for Un Matin d'Orage and is issued in both 50ml/1.7oz and 100ml/3.4oz sizes of Eau de Toilette. More widely available in the coming months.

Related reading on Perfumeshrine: Gardenia scents, Jasmine Series, Champaca scents.


*Calone is an aromachemical used in the 1990s to render an ozonic marine note, smelling halfway between a watermelon and a cantaloupe.
**The Perilla note (often referred to as shiso in Japanese cuisine) is interesting in that perilla seeds form an essential part of the seven spices of Japan (originating more than 300 years ago in Kyoto)while green perilla leaves are used for sushi or sashimi. The essential oil steam distilled from the leaves of the perilla plant, consists of a variety of chemical compounds, varying depending on species. The most abundant however (comprising about 50–60% of the oil) is perillaldehyde ~most responsible for the aroma and taste of perilla. (please read about aldehydes here). For reference a fragrance focusing on perilla/shiso is Shiso by Comme des Garcons.

Pic of Un Matin d'Orage bottle copyright ⓒ by Helg/Perfumeshrine
Pic of Japanese Garden by J.Jennings via mobot.org