Annick Goutal Les Absolus Vanille Charnelle: fragrance review

The problem with the term "charnelle" (carnal in French) for Anglo-speaking audiences persists after the online mocking of Guerlain's analogous fragrances (Les Elixirs Charnels or better known as Carnal Elixirs). Of course one might argue it's hard to beat Poupée (doll in French) by Rochas... Nevertheless don't let that distract you from the creamy goodness of the latest Annick Goutal vanilla fragrance, Vanille Charnelle, part of Les Absolus d'Annick Goutal luxury perfumes trio.

Vanilla fragrances can come in various guises and heaven knows one more vanilla is not what is missing from the market, especially at this point. However the polished touch of perfumer Isabelle Doyen and art director Camille Goutal promises a milk bath preceding a lovers' tryst Popaea (Sabena) style.

The butyric note in Vanille Charnelle is held down by two interesting elements making the fluffy base more playful; one is a peppery note that tingles the sinuses with the anticipation of a session of light spanking, the other a nectarous ylang ylang which brings the floralcy of vanilla into focus. Dark vanillas exhibit boozy, dark, whiskey and rum facets, but Vanille Charnelle is more reminiscent of almonds than of booze and has that goose down feel that white musk has when done right.

For Goutal, who had already offered the moderately priced Vanille Exquise, which many vanilla lovers counted among the ones they love, the decision to offer a disproportionately elevated in the posh stakes vanilla sounds rather odd. But vanilla is a known aphrodisiac, as per pop culture (and who can forget the Guerlain claims to Shalimar being cat nip thanks to its rich, dark, leathery vanilla) and it seems one can't have too many in one line. It also ensures a steady interest at the counter...

The luxurious presentation by Annick Goutal in the Les Absolus line, that opens like the scene of a theatre production to reveal a performance by good actors, merits the asking price more than the innovation of the formula. Still...pas mal du tout.


Related reading on Perfume Shrine: 
Annick Goutal news & reviews
Top Vanilla Fragrances: a Series

Acqua di Parma Ginepro di Sardegna: Growing Icicles ~fragrance review

If the popular ice princess Elsa from Disney's Frozen had a scent, Ginepro di Sardegna by Acqua di Parma would be it; the spontaneous eruption of icicles and snow flakes that come whirling at the flick of her hand is within the fragrance's intentional scope. There is one scene in the movie in particular that perfectly evokes for me the feel of the Ginepro scent: the other main character, Anna, alongside a comic snowman and the friend-who-will-dawn-as-boyfriend-material-in-the end (surely a time honored trope) enter a forest where ice curtains of icicles hanging from the tree branches tinkle in the frosty air like piano glissandos.

pic via

This goosebumps producing, intensely fresh yet at once highly spicy fragrance from Acqua di Parma feels like a slice of Iceland in the midst of a heatwave when wearing even a chiffon top over tap pants feels like too much. Perfect for the southern summers, then! The unisex fragrance is part of the mostly fabulous Blu Mediterraneo line which includes the unusual Mirto di Panarea, a personal favorite, as well as the ultra popular Mandorlo di Sicilia,  the light-hearted Arancia di Capri and the nicely introverted woody scent Fico di Amalfi.
Ginepro di Saregna (Juniper of Sardinia) recalls the now discontinued Cipresso di Toscana from the same line and no wonder since its basic aromatic "note", juniper belongs to the family of cypresses, trees traditionally tied to the Mediterranean paysage, part of which is the isle of Sardinia/Sardegna. I'm not sure if this was a move to satisfy the lost customers of Cipresso or a plea to new ones who are attracted by new, new, new.

Ginepro di Sardegna is immersed in the vigorous gin & tonic feel of juniper berries, bitter aromatic and  tingling on the tongue, coupled with the eerily cooling feel of peppery spiciness. The peppery effect is not unlike the one in Poivre Samarcande (in the Hermessences collection by Hermes) so I'm hypothesizing that the effects of a clever use of Iso-E Super perfume ingredient are harnessed for all their worth, especially since cedar is the main woody note to underscore the composition. The after-feel is quite powdery, a soft, dry talc impression (I suspect white musk).
Further than a mere parsing of smells nevertheless Ginepro di Sardegna feels the way a Brâncuși looks, seamless and polished. Not entirely novel, one might argue, but pleasing all the same.

It's perfect for a seaside holiday under the scorching sun, the same as it's perfect on a gray winter day when you look forward to the snowflakes.

Lovers of Angeliques sous la Pluie by Editions de Parfums Frederic Malle, Navegar by L'Artisan Parfumeur, Poivre Samarcande, Bang by Marc Jacobs, Juniper Sling by Penhaligon's and Piper Negrum by Lorenzo Villorezi should give Ginepro di Sardegna a try. More traditionally masculine feeling than feminine (apart from that powdery touch at the end), but who really pays attention when the back of your throat almost closes by the, welcome, dry frost?

Fragrance notes for Ginepro di Sardegna by Acqua di Parma:
Top: juniper berries, bergamot, black pepper, allspice, nutmeg
Heart: sage, cypress
Base: Virginia cedarwood

Interestingly the strength of Acqua di Parma is that although it was bought by LVMH as an existing company (and we all know what that means for historical houses) the basic core was developed post hoc and therefore great attention to detail and clever marketing paid off instead of backfiring. Bravo!

Related reading on Perfume Shrine:
Cool silken fragrances: Like Snowcapped Trees in the Ringing Winter Air
White Noise Fragrances
Acqua di Parma fragrance reviews & news

Divine Spirituelle: fragrance review and samples draw

Certain perfumes give an illusory first impression like people who come into a party seemingly underdressed only to impress you with their smarts and true chic as the night unfolds. Spirituelle, the latest Divine fragrance, an at once delicate and spirited take on the rosy powdery floral, took me a cursory first sniff and then a much more attentive one to appreciate its twists that put the chic into the chica. It ended up winning me and might win you too if you're either a floral phobic or a rose hater, so lend me your eyes for a sec.

Bulle Ogier via Photobucket/francomac123

Two major themes play into the blueprint of Spirituelle. The first one is a dessert-worthy succulent note that derives from the two rose absolutes (one from Turkey, the other from France), flanked by rosy, fresh spice on one side and a smooth lightly ambery caress on the other. The feeling is not unlike the deliciousness of Neela Vermeire's Mohur eau de parfum, rendered here more ethereal and a bit less dense. Never too sweet, but inviting.

The second theme is the wink of a smoky cigarette note that rises only from a certain distance. The French are known for their predilection for smoking and I don't smoke myself as a rule, so the illusory effect is not a trail off my clothing or skin. Rather it recalls the practice of French perfumes of yore which had a compatible ambience to human habits: food, sex, drink and smoke. The hand is quicker than the eye (or the nose, as circumstances apply): the effect is lightweight and imperceptible if not told about beforehand. Chapeau then for such a clever little conjurer's trick which makes Divine Spirituelle go beyond the polite, prim and beige rose perfume that so many fragrance companies issue for Victoriana admiring fans, without on the other hand falling into the commonality of either patchouli nor oud.


Spirituelle comes as the 11th creation for Divine, the small niche brand by Yvon Mouchel, founded in the small town of Dinard. Perfumer Richard Ibanez who worked on Spirituelle has been a longtime partner with the Divine brand: he was the one composing the word-of-mouth cult first Divine scent, Divine by Divine.

I have 6 perfume samples for an equal number of lucky readers. Please let me know your experiences with rose in the comments to be eligible for the draw. Draw is open internationally till Friday midnight and winner will be announced in the weekend.

Fragrance notes for Divine Spirituelle:

Top: pink pepper, Sichuan pepper, geranium, cistus
Middle: May rose absolute, Anatolian rose absolute
Base: Texas cedarwood, white amber, white musk, incense.

Spirituelle is available as eau de parfum (50, 100, 200ml splash bottles or 30 and 50 refillable spray bottles) and as pure parfum extrait 20ml.

Le Labo Cuir 28 (Dubai exclusive): fragrance appreciation reprisal

Far from the crowd pleasing orientalism of Benjoin 19 (Le Labo's Moscow "city exclusive") which I had reviewed for Fragrantica last autumn, Cuir 28 by Le Labo reprises some of the butcher elements of the great leather perfumes tradition and marries them to a woody-peppery chord with unisex appeal. This brings it at a no man's land of leather scents, as it doesn't fit the mold of any category really; is it like Bandit (Piguet), Cabochard (Gres), Cuir de Russie (Chanel), Cuir de Lancome, John Varvatos Vintage, Tuscan Leather (Tom Ford), Bel Ami (Hermes) etc etc? It's like none of these things.

Phenols (tar-like notes resembling melting asphalt) resurface in Cuir 28 as a leathery note aspect on top; agressive and oozing with bitumen, the "cuir" note in Cuir 28 is unpresentable, tough and butch, probably an echo of Parchouli 24 which also presents an odd and visceral experience, especially if you're an acolyte of the school of sweet orientalized "suede" leather scents. The hardcore leather bar crowd however should find it eminently intriguing due to this very reason, although a bit of vanilla does surface later on; a respite of human affection after the hate fuck.

The fragrance segues into a iris-peppery combination that makes for the prolonged elegance of Chanel Les Exclusifs 31 Rue Cambon, diverging into two slices in the Le Labo creation, a still dry and with hints of vetiver earthiness medley that feels like a different person has walked into the room. The two slices do not meet in the pie and remain sort of disjointed throughout, which produces an odd but trippy experience for the wearer; in a way it's probably a test of whether you'll have your perfumista card revoked: do you have the patience to discover the unfolding?

The final phase of Cuir 28 comes through a hint of musky vanilla that tries to efface the butch factor of the top note, small comfort for the wild ride. For the full review please consult this link on Fragrantica.

Though a Dubai exclusive (Le Labo reserves some of its fragrances for city-specific distribution only resulting in the City Exclusive) for the month of September 2014 ONLY Cuir 28 can be found online at the official Le Labo site and Luckyscent. (I had been able to review this thanks to a generous procurer of the sample; you know who you are, thanks)

Aedes de Venustas Oeillet Bengale: fragrance review

If like me you have been searching for a Catherine Earnshaw kind of fragrance all your life, then the options haven't always been that populous. Sure, there are some wild perfumes out there but they either (deliciously) run butch or raunchy (Bandit or Tabu), extremely sophisticated (Tabac Blond, Poivre, Coup de Fouet) or possessing that kind of French veneer that makes the Versailles what they are and not a rough stone house on the moors (YSL Opium, Coco de Chanel). I'm extremely surprised and overjoyed to find out that Oeillet Bengale, the third fragrance by Aedes de Venustas (the famous niche perfume boutique in NYC) is a Catherine-Earnshaw-by-way-of-India and that's mighty fine by me; this feral thing is so beguiling, one can forgive it a wandering spirit, even beyond the grave.

Oeillet Bengale like its namesake (the Bengal tiger) conjures the vision of a wild, fiery, untamed thing, oozing feline sex appeal and the sort of charm which keeps you on your toes rather than winning you over with an easy smile and pleading puppy eyes. It also conjures the temples of India, garlanded by flowers and smoky with woody-smelling incense, a sort of Kipling novela written in the register of smells.

Oeillet Bengale by Aedes de Venustas boldly goes where modern niche carnation fragrances go, that is more Vitriol d'Oeillet (Lutens) than Bellodgia (Caron). The spicy component, fresh and dark, like an electric storm in a land of immense skylines that go on forever, lends it well into night wear, while the combination of resinous smells and floral notes gives it a Queen of Sheba via a modern sort of vibe. This is a wonderful fragrance for either men or women who exude sophistication (or aim at doing so!) because the smoky pepperiness—with its incense-y ambience—doesn't lend itself to cooing over the latest chick lit volume. If you are the type to go gaga over Hello Kitty items (and not just out of childhood nostalgia) Oeillet Bengale will leave you cold. If you're a fan of spacious, yet richly nuanced, woody fragrances with a prominent spicy component (sans the expected Indian curry food notes!) and the growl of smooth and carnal labdanum, then the feral Oeillet Bengale is your thing.

In fact, if I were to sum it up, I'd say that the chord of pepper-clove-labdanum-incense is the "soul" of Oeillet Bengale, a smoky carnation for fiery spirits.

Composed by Rodrigo Flores-Roux, Oeillet Bengale by Aedes de Venustas includes top notes of turmeric, cinnamon, black pepper, cardamom, cloves and saffron; middle notes of rose, white pepper, strawberry and floral notes; and base notes of vanilla, tolu balsam, benzoin and labdanum.

Related reading on Perfume Shrine:
Spicy Floral fragrances reviews,
Carnation in perfumes: the clove-scented buds of La Belle Epoque

Serge Lutens La Fille de Berlin: new fragrance

“A flower grown under the ruins, cut off from the world, it appears before your eyes; to all of us to open our eyes. I took courage in both hands, in her flowing Rheingold hair. On the lips, I tasted blood. My girl from Berlin showed combative, more beautiful than ever – and so I broke my contempt and even my shame, hiding under the guise of my pride. Through the power of criticism, of love and hate, God and the devil, death and life, I drew a furrow in which she disappeared. And while the maelstrom beats on me, I pay homage to her beauty enraged”.
~Serge Lutens

Cryptic, no? Typical. The Girl from Berlin (this is what La Fille de Berlin translates to) recalls a Siegfried Idyll in some ways, but it is apparently the next Serge Lutens export fragrance to hit stores in March 2013. The renowned aesthete not only just launched in Berlin's Hotel Adlon his third book "Berlin à Paris", a collection of photographs from the years 1967 to 2008, but he also introduces his upcoming fragrance "La fille de Berlin"; an elegant velvety, dark red rose with peppered romantic nuances, dedicated to the real-life drama that helps self-expression flourish.

The genre of spicy rose is rather overpopulated (see Cinabre by Maria Candida Gentile for a fabulous specimen, as well as Parfum Sacre by Caron) and Serge is no stranger to spices, from smoky clove in Serge Noire, to dirty cumin in Arabie and El Attarine, to tart ginger in Five o'clock au Gingembre. 
The ruby-red color of the juice inside surely speaks of drama and has caught my attention, at the very least.

La fille de Berlin by Serge Lutens is an Eau de Parfum concentration available in 50 ml for 78 € from March 2013  
Serge Lutens's book: Berlin á Paris • 176 pages • 4-color • Electa Milano 2012 (Source: Serge Lutens, pic duftarchiv.de)

Divine L'Homme Infini: fragrance review

"A gentleman is simply a patient wolf."
~Lana Turner

William Thackeray, who knew a thing or two about snobs, wrote in Vanity Fair: "Which of us can point out many [gentlemen] in his circle – men whose aims are generous, whose truth is constant, and not only constant in its kind, but elevated in its degree; whose want of meanness makes them simple; who can look the world squarely in the face with an equal manly sympathy for the great and the small?"

L'Homme Infini deeply appeals to my own ideal of nobility, in the sense of an ideal human being; not lineage, but the couth ways, effortless elegance and received wisdom that should go with it. From its suave green-citrusy vetiver core with sweet, cozy, nutty undertones, to its piquant smoky pepperiness, the fragrance reads like an paean to masculinity; reassuring and dependable, a shoulder to lean on in hardship and a handsome cheek to caress when things go awry and a wistful tear is forming.

Caspar David Friedrich. Abbey in the Oak Forest, 1810

Yvon Mouchel, founder of Parfums Divine, has employed one of the young mavericks emerging in this medium, Yann Vasnier (a Givaudan perfumer working among others for Arquiste, Tom Ford, Marc Jacobs, Comme des Garcons and Parfums DelRae). Vasnier has a history of creating outstanding men’s scents for Divine (L'homme de Coeur, from 2002, for one), and L’homme infini, his latest creation for the line, a nutty-smoky vetiver woody scent, manages to entice and deliver both in terms of intellectual artistic integrity and of pleasing the senses. With L’Homme Infini, Divine expresses the idea that man has an infinite horizon of life before him.

No claims to seismic originality, but high praise for the deft of execution for this one.

On skin (male as well as female) L'Homme Infini wears very much like a beloved piece of clothing you want to wear to tatters, the gorgeous patina of effervescent skies, tall silvery trees, their branches like peaks of gothic churches reaching for the skies, for the divine, geosmin and human warmth trailing on fabric; craggy stones and flint, coarsely grated spices and the spraying droplets bursting out of orange rind, and woods, woods, woods...echoing in the distance.
The promise of mysteries yet to be discovered, the adventure only now beginning.

Divine L’homme Infini notes: Coriander leaf and grain, elemi, black pepper, oak, cedar, agar wood, vetiver, amber, benzoin

Available from November 2012 at the e-boutique, all Divine boutiques in France and at Luckyscent, Liberty UK, The Perfume Shoppe, Oswald Parfumerie and AusLiebeDuft. Check the brand's website for more information: http://www.divine.fr

In the interests of disclosure I was sent sample vials by the company

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

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

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

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

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



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

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

Caron Poivre & Coup de Fouet: fragrance reviews & comparison

Poivre by Caron plays out like J.S Bach's double concerto for 2 violins in D minor, 1st movement: Two complimenting themes, carnation and clove, in contrapuntal dialogue, one finishing off the phrase of another in a leitmotif which manages to punctuate time with its own special seal. Despite its name, which means pepper in French, and the vicious-looking studded with peppercorns bottle, Poivre features the hot "king of spice" in a supporting role. To bring the musical analogy full circle, let's just say pepper in Poivre is the basso continuo.

Poivre is the kind of fragrance that creates the feeling J.S Bach compositions stir in my soul and has been a longtime companion for as far back as I was aware of Caron; if not as far back as Bach. There is such contextualised coherence that everything in the world seems at its rightful place, everything in perfect, clashing harmony. If the composer once walked 200 miles to hear Dieterich Buxtehude play the organ, I'd walk on hot coals to get an ounce of Poivre parfum in its vintage state.

History of Creation
In 1953, Félicie Wanpouille -savvy of the emergence of a different aesthetic inaugarated with the New Look by Dior- asked perfumer Michel Morsetti for a fragrance that would be out of whack with its times. Morsetti had already created (at least 2) classics in the Caron stable: Farnesiana (1947), Rose (1949), and Muguet du Bonheur (1952).  The fifties were all about good-mannered lactonic florals and sheer floral chypres continuing from the late 1940s. Only Youth Dew was braving the wave, making it possible later for Cinnabar, Opium and all the rest of the Medina-spice caravan-brocard tapestry orientals that followed. Michel Morsetti obliged and in 1954 Poivre emerged; impulsive, rich, sinful, drop dead sexy! "Parfum de la femme moderne" as per the vintage advertisements: the perfume of the modern woman.
The bottle design with the peppercorn studs was no doubt a throwback to classic pomanders which relied on cloves for their antimicrobial prophylactic properties; perfume as medicine...

Scent Description 
The original 1950s advertisements featured a Chinese-style dragon, in tune with the firecracking pyrotechnics of the fragrance's fiery breath.  The daredevil spices open the scene, intense clove, flanked by pepper, and they come back again and again in an endless recycling and expansion of the leitmotif, a structure that is reminiscent of older ways of composing, but maxed out to orgiastic effect. The lush floral chord is built on carnation and ylang ylang, the peppery bite of one falling into the solar embrace of the other. As the scent progresses, there is a hint of vanilla, hazy opoponax and leather on the skin, a soft focus camera lens on a racy subject. The combination of carnation and leather brings to mind another Caron legend, En Avion, dedicated to women in aviation.

Coup de Fouet & comparison with Poivre
Poivre was conceived as the original extrait de parfum creation out of which Coup de Fouet (a most brilliant & fitting name, "crack of the whip") emerged as a diluted Eau de Cologne Poivrée. The theme is similar, the effect somewhat lighter in the weaker concentration, with a boosted effect of rose that is orientalised, spicy and raspy, still mighty impressive. Coup de Fouet is as warm as a fur coat and as commanding attention. It prompted writer Susan Irvine to  state it's "what Cruella de Vil would have worn"; so if you're the soft type crying over those poor 101 Dalmatians and can't manage a streak of bitchiness, don't even bother.
Coup de Fouet nowadays is offered at Caron boutiques as the Eau de Parfum analogue of Poivre extrait, the latter also available there from the fabulous crystal samovars affectionately referred to as "urns".
Both concentrations are totally passable (nay, downright alluring!) on men as well.

Reformulation of Poivre and Coup de Fouet
Contemporary batches of both fragrances seem to insist on a mustier, soapy rose and have less of a spicy oriental character, falling into the limbo state of floriental. Sadly Poivre (and Coup de Fouet as well, since they share those notes) faces IFRA restrictions on spicy materials which no doubt will leave future generations wondering what all the fuss was about anyway. Tragic, in view of Poivre (in the classic peppercorn flacon in Baccarat crystal) ranking as #3 of "top most expensive perfumes in the world" [$2,000 for 2 oz]....
When this happens the dragon loses its fire, the whole world gets out of whack and Bach isn't be there to save the day.

Notes for Caron Poivre: (add rose for Coup de Fouet)

Red pepper, black pepper, clou de girofle (clove), carnation, ylang ylang, jasmine, opoponax, cedar, sandalwood, vetiver, oakmoss, musk.



Painting "The Sense of Hearing" by Jan Brueghel the Elder. Ads via beckerstreet.com and vintageadbrowser.com

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

Twin Peaks: Hermes Poivre Samarcande & Marc Jacobs Bang reviews

In the secrecy-laced world of perfumery it's not unusual to have the same idea colonise several brands. Sometimes it happens through the same "nose" (perfumer), such as Anne Flipo for Rykiel Woman and Barbara Bui Le Parfum or Maurice Roucel working for Musc Ravageur as well as L de Lempicka). Other times, because it's the direction dictated by a new material such as the ubiquitousness of oud (Rose Oud by Kilian, Oud Leather by Dior) or Ambroxan lately (Another 13 and Baie Rose 26, Not a Perfume by Juliette Has a Gun). Or it's a new technique; take the novel method of maceration of iris root for only a few weeks instead of three years resulting in a pleiad of niche iris scents 3-4 years ago. Added to that is also the reason of marketing: A new sector opened by a pioneer is exploited by other brands later on, even by home fragrances and functional products (this is called "trickle down" in industry speak). The point of Twin Peaks series on Perfume Shrine is exactly that: to pinpoint fragrances that are smell-alikes and delineate the reasons and hows of their resemblances.
Which brings us nicely to Poivre Samarcande by the exclusive boutique line of Hermès and Bang by Marc Jacobs which circulates in the department store circuit. Smell the two though and you can see there are less of six degrees of seperation between them.

Poivre Samarcande came at a time when Jean Claude Ellena was busy populating the -at the time- novel concept of boutique exclusive fragrances, the Hermessences (The original quartet which was sold in 2005 included also Rose Ikebana, Ambre Narguilé and Vétiver Tonka). It must have felt especially validating to have everyone follow, from Chanel down to Cartier and Dior La Collection and produce "exclusive" collections in a niche manner of presentation and concept (focus on raw materials, identical bottles, limited distribution, star perfumer working for them). Poivre Samarkande was in many ways a pioneer because it was incorporated into Jean Claude's experimentation with Iso E Super started with Déclaration, which he overdosed in the Hermès scent in order to boost the effect of an airy pepper accord, which although spicy is transliterated like a wood thanks to the boost of cedar, oak and patchouli notes. In actuality it's the Iso E Super which underpins the spices, making them shine and feel cool and silky, projecting in a linear manner. The unisex effect alongside its peculiar feel good, feel non-perfumey character has made it a soaring success. It was only natural the great idea would be perpetuated. Enter Marc Jacobs.


Bang is Marc Jacob's latest foray into perfume, coming out in July 2010. His line of scents is well thought out, but without presenting much of an excitement to the hearts of dedicated niche perfumery consumers. The scents simply read as a tad too "safe" to present the much coveted challenge we seek. However, their execution is usually very good, from the bright and happy Daisy to the snuggly but light powder of Amber Splash. Bang is no different: It takes its central leitmotif from someplace else, but the result isn't a total bore, probably because the original idea was an intelligent one to begin with and someone was wise enough not to muck with it too much. Bang was created for a “contemporary guy, who, even if he isn’t young, has a younger spirit.” Jacobs created the name first and development of the composition in cooperation with Coty followed. “I wanted to do something that I would love” said Jacobs. “I particularly like spice notes, especially pepper, so that became a starting place.”
Bang was art-directed by the revered veteran Ann Gottlieb who requested such notes as black, white and pink pepper, alongside masculine woody notes (Iso E Super and ambrox for you), while the base includes elemi resin (in itself having a peppery aroma), benzoin (a sweeter resin), vetiver, "white moss" (a patented IFF accord that was introduced in Jasmine White Moss in Estée Lauder's Private Collection line) and patchouli. The scent has a vibe of a metrosexual preening in front of a black-tiled bathroom mirror, so I would most enjoy smelling it on someone unexpected. Preferably a woman.

The two scents smell quite alike, Bang being a bit sweeter and with more pronounced vetiver and watered down in the lasting power stakes (to the point of annoying), but it's the optical differences which stuck in one's mind: On the one hand a refined and sparse representation of a leather-clad bottle, on the other a slicked-up Marc posing with the (impressively designed) bottle between his bare legs. Take your pick according to your aesthetics and wallet.

Krizia Teatro alla Scala: fragrance review

Revisiting a spicy oriental amidst the heat and turpor of the big metropolis when it's 38C outside is not exactly conductive to proper thinking. All that density might go to one's head and have bystanders get murderous thoughts! And yet, Teatro alla Scala, a forgotten masterpiece by Krizia, doesn't produce any of those effects. All right, it's not citrusy, it's not a clean musk, it's not even a tropical floral. It's an effing spicy oriental! But you know what, sometimes that's what the doctor ordered. The spice is so jolting that it manages to create the impression of cleaness, if you can believe it!

A similar effect was first explored in Caron's Poivre and Yves Saint Laurent's now changed Opium. Some spices in collaboration with aldehydes create a hot-cold effect (non mentholated, it's a different vibe), reminiscent of the feel you get after the passage of a hot iron over clean cotton or linen. The scent also brings to mind the vibrancy of Coco by Chanel (the original oriental from the mid-1980s, specifically the vintage Eau de Parfum) minus the leathery facets. It stands to reason, Teatro came out in 1986, two years after Coco. Another kinship could be argued to be with the original Fendi, but I personally always found that one to be denser and more masculine and definitely only suitable for the coldest nights of winter. I don't know who the perfumer is and couldn't find it in my guides, but it feels like a Jacques Polge extension of his Coco mods. The Krizia outfit is rather underappreciated in perfume circles, although they produce fabulous things (even sparkling and dry wines!), another fragrance worth noting the cool, mossy and all around lovely K by Krizia, more of which on a later day.

Suffice to say Teatro alla Scala is discontinued (Murphy's Law, all the good ones eventually seem to head that way; or else they're mutilated through multiple Joan-Rivers-worth facelifts...). I sourced mine through a swap. The ratio of phenylpropanoid eugenol (a gigantic clove-peppery note) is just the sort of thing that would have the current IFRA-police erupt in hives and have it ostracized to outer space. Then again fate and time saw to that before they did. In a way, I'm thankful: It means each Art Deco style bottle surfacing would be the good stuff; it saves us the trouble of going through endless deliberations on bottle styles changes, packaging design and searching all surfaces of bottle and box for tiny printed or etched codes denoting different batches. Even at the heights of its popularity it wasn't distributed in France, which makes me think there are some great things in perfumery that even the French fail to appreciate. Even if it evokes the paradisal nights spent at the famous Milanese theater. Does anyone still wear it and appreciate this scent? I'd be interested to find out.

The opening of Teatro alla Scala cuts through a wall of bricks with its symphonic spicy note of clove and pepper while the flowers emerge slowly, with assuredness and without any distraction from the majestic track troden. Many orientals cede into plush amber notes that engulf you in tentacles of sweetness and powderiness, which comforting though it might be on ocassion, sometimes reminds of big bosom-heavy aunts hugging too enthusiastically which unfortunately can put the "sexy" out of the window once the thought crosses your mind. This one is certainly not gaunty, the way some cerebral chypres or medicinal orientals can be ~more brains than heart~ but instead has a fine, sculpted feminine figure, the incense and moss at the base restraining the honeyed, sweeter notes, the naughty, "dirty" civet bringing out the carnation at the heart underscored by a soupçon of cool rose. Yet it never vulgarises itself through too much cleavage or low tricks, it's always classy. Almost begs for an encore after the performance.
Its perfect, sultry proportions slink through simple, bold evening dresses for a big night out. Yes, even if it's a hot night, as long as you know how to use only one spray over your navel...

Notes for Krizia Teatro alla Scala:
Top: aldehydes, coriander, fruity notes and bergamot
Heart: carnation, tuberose, orris root, jasmine, beeswax, ylang-ylang, rose and geranium.
Base: patchouli, musk, benzoin, civet, oakmoss, vetiver and incense.

Photograph of Anna Magnani via iiclegrado.esteri.it

Le Labo Poivre 23 (London Exclusive): fragrance review

The 16th century dock workers required by law to wear a no-pockets-and-no-cuffs uniform are but a small testament to the power of pepper: they often risked their lives trying to sneak peppercorns by stuffing their clothing! As pepper was worth its weight in gold ~by representing a steadier currency (coins were often counterfeited with other alloys) and one of the ways to keep foodstuff for long in a time before refrigerators~ the necessity of perilous, long voyages to exotic lands of the East had seamen reach India to break through the Venice and Genoa monopoly of the Spice Route during the Middle Ages and rulers intent on keeping the spice road clear for caravans to safely bring pepper westwards.
Hippocrates recommended pepper in medicine while the Romans used it so much that the road of spice trading was called Via Piperatica (Pepper Street). It’s no coincidence that both Attila the Hun and Alaric I the Visigoth demanded part of Rome’s ransom in pepper (recalling the comparable custom of paying Roman legionnaires part of their wages in salt). In a time when bribes of prospective voters were circulating in the form of the spice, dowries included pepper, and suitors who tried to marry upwards were literally forced by aristocrats to gurgle on pepper; there were men who were the salt of the earth but who were not worth their pepper, alas! The latest Le Labo, Poivre 23, is redolent of the demonic yet much desired aura of pepper, the King of Spices: after all Bourbon pepper is named after the Bourbon dynasty of French kings (Which makes one wonder why this is the London and not the Paris exclusive!)

Le Labo being loyal to the self-pronounced name on the bottle? If you’re still questioning your nose while smelling the tarry, smoky facets of birch tar rendering oily, leather-like notes in Patchouli 24 (and less so in Ciste 18), you know what I am talking about. And yet, contrary to the criticism received, the name is only meant to apply to the top note (the initial impression, might we say more accurately) and the number of ingredients.

My own criticism of the brand lies elsewhere and I have resisted voicing it for long. Since they believe“Writing about perfume is like dancing about architecture” there isn’t much of a chance they’re checking online publications anyway, so I might as well get it off my chest.
Fabrice and Eddie, the owners of the “perfumery lab” at 233 Elizabeth Street in New York are two fragrance industry veterans who aimed to apply their noses in an unconventional project. The concept of lab-robbed technicians pouring the juice that very minute into your own name-tagged bottle, bearing the date of mixing and an “expiry” date in typewriter font (clinic chic!) is repelling to me in anastrophe, making me view the contents as pasteurized milk rather than a great vintage of dry red wine. Le Labo says a propos: “The last-minute formulation allows the composition to stay “fresh” and retain the fullness of its fragrance, in particular its delicate top notes, and to preserve the intensity required to shock. Made-to-order means that the essential oil concentrates in the perfume remain separate from the alcohol right up to the moment of purchase. Only then do our lab technicians proceed to the final formulation of the perfume, then bottle and label it with your name and the date of fabrication”. Actually the maturation of the jus is an integral part of the creation process and not necessarily the first step into decay. The personalized touch was originally meant to denote a custom-made feel but I sense that it is more of a marketing drivel for the “aware” customer. The reluctance of handing out physical samples because "All natural fragrances are not meant to be sampled; if you try them from a sample they aren't as good» (the frag “was better in the original bottle”)left me doubting my ears.
Secondly, and adjacent to the erroneous “all natural” lapse above, their claim of ingredients coming from Grasse is somehow making perfumephiles think they are of some superior quality to others. People who have been in Grasse can attest that ingredients manipulated there are sourced all over the place, so it is not like this element alone provides credentials of excellence. I am willing to accept that it is all a matter of confusion and misquoting nevertheless (in which case, dear Le Labo, please mail me for discussion) These points aside Poivre 23 is good. Let me elaborate.

Poivre 23 London follows City Scents previously created by Le Labo for New York (Tubereuse 40), Los Angeles (Musc 25), Dallas (Aldehyde 44) , Paris (Vanille 44) and Tokyo (Gaiac 10) in what is no doubt an exasperating, old but brilliant move towards providing a coveted luxury item: that which cannot be had easily! Poivre (pepper) refers to the Piper genus in the Piperacae family and not the Capsicum one of the Solanaceae family (which includes green, red, chili and generally an assortment of edible peppers).

The nose behind Le Labo Poivre 23 is Nathalie Lorson, a perfumer currently at Firmenich, Paris (formely at IFF), who was raised in Grasse, the traditional perfume capital of France. She is responsible for a diverse portfolio that encompasses the almost universally pleasing Bulgari pour Femme, the modern classic aldehydic floriental Dolce & Gabbana Femme, the recent re-issues of Lancôme Peut- Être and Aqua di Parma Profumo, as well as several Adidas fragrances and the one for Kate Moss. She has also signed the three latest fragrances by Lalique: the pre-empting Perles with its peppery musky background, the disturbingly appealing earthy vetiver of Encre Noire and the blackberry muskiness of Amethyst. As she confided: “I try first and foremost to serve the project, which can lead me to explore unfamiliar territory… and to rein in my ego!” Yet the familiar suppleness of her compositions is definitely there.

Nathalie’s spicy-woody personal totem is Déclaration for Cartier, so it’s no wonder she harnessed the untamed demon into supplication so suavely. I am a self-admitted spice lover and pepper is one of my favourite notes, heavily used in perfumery to elevate compositions into something simultaneously hot and cold (Opium by Yves Saint Laurent), or to bestow its brilliance, such as in Piper Negrum by Lorenzo Villoresi. Poivre 23 goes for an orientalized take on the prized material fusing subtle citrus elements with exotic woody notes such as a whiff of patchouli, some gaiac and Australian sandalwood (different than the Indian variety). The whole is suffused into a warm, radiating, rather sweet (I am tempted to say liqueur-tinged) aura with inviting tobacco undertones; smoke rising in slow rings over the canopy of an opium den.
The pepper note vanishes soon; essentially true to its “short” nature (“short” spices give an intial jolting impression but do not last, as opposed to “long” ones which are retained into the aftertaste). In that regard Poivre Piquant by L’artisan is more of a true pepper, with the longevity issues of what that entails as well. What are left from Poivre 23 are sweet nothings spoken in a contralto sostenuto for hours. That would have amber and darkish vanilla lovers, as well as fans of the perversely un-foodie vanilla of Shalimar, enraptured. Compared to their Paris exclusive Vanille 44, Poivre 23 is spicier, a tad less ambery and woodier with echoes of the less complex Gaiac 10 (the Tokyo Exclusive); something that leads me to believe it would be a good hit with men perfume lovers compared to that one, without alienating women fans.

I don’t especially condone the practice of super-exclusive perfumes for the heck of it through my retail shopping, nor do I think that the price asked for such a huge amount of extrait de parfum (the only concentration available) is completely justified. Therefore I left empty-handed. However I asked if there is the option available to some of their other scents in other cities of creating a silicone-based roll-on product fit for the purse. The kind sales assistant informed me that she would ask and a relative is instructed to go back and pick it up if it materializes. I will keep you posted if so!

Notes for Le Labo Poivre 23 (London exclusive):
Bourbon pepper, citrus, incense, cistus labdanum, Australian sandalwood, patchouli, vanilla, gaiacwood, styrax.

Le Labo Poivre 23 is exclusive to Liberty, London, available in Extrait de Parfum (pure parfum) in sizes of 50ml, 100ml and 500ml. (£120 for 50ml, 240.00 for 100ml; I didn’t dare find out the price for 500ml of pure parfum).
The official site (http://www.lelabofragrances.com/) is seriously appealing from an artistic point of view.

Pic of peppercorns via greekfood.about.com. Asian woman smoking originally uploaded on MUA

Vetiver Dance by Tauer: Fragrance Review and Draw

“She is the embodiment of grace. She flows like water, she glows like fire and has the earthiness of a mortal goddess. She has flowers in her hair, jewelled hands and kohl-dark eyes. Her eyes speak a language that her hands will translate, her feet move in tandem to make the story complete. She is a danseuse, she is a performer, she is almost ethereal.”
~Photosindia-com

Vetiver Dance, the newest Andy Tauer fragrance dances around vetiver the way an Indian dancer dances like water, like fire. It is completely fabulous and if you're even in the least intrigued, there is strong motive for you to read through so as not to miss a spectacular surprise. I got a preview previously and after focusing on vetiver these past few days, it was a natural progression to come back and give a full review.

One of the traits which I appreciate most in niche Swiss perfumer Andy Tauer's oeuvre, apart from his excellent customer service of course, is that he doesn't resort to syncatabasis. His creations do not condensent to soothe the audience into the false sense of security of presenting them with artisanal pretentions yet producing eerily derivative works. Every one of his scents can stand alone, even though the common thread between them is unmistakeably his signature. Although I do not wear all his fragrances due to personal quirks and preferences, some of them have caught my attention and became friends immediately and forcibly: L'air du desert marocain was my first apodrasis into the desert, Rêverie au Jardin promenaded me into a soothing afternoon vignette through a Provencial field, while the duo of Incense took me from the austere bedrock of a hermite of Incense Extrême to the bright lux in tenebris filtered through the colourful vitraux of a spacious church on a festive morning of Incense Rosé.

According to the Tauer press release:

"Vetiver oil is one of the most fascinating natural fragrances to work with.Exploring the dark, raw and almost damp earthiness of vetiver oil you may discover hidden gems. Delicate lines of green leaves, clear spices, and soft flower petals. Trying to expose these treasures, I was working for more than a year on the fragrance that was later baptized “Vetiver dance” thanks to a creative online community. It is a fragrance where the dense and rich notes of vetiver oil balance the lightness of citrus, where wet dark earth nourishes white flowers, and where green spices extend vibrant woody chords".

An enumeratio of the creation was slowly unfolding on Tauer's blog, for months on end, leading us through the steps. In it all, there comes the contraption that needs to be patented: Vetiverometer ~a term coined by Andy Tauer, a "machine" measuring the “vetiverness”, the proximity to the real thing and reading the results, on an open logarithmic vetiver scale, so you get an idea where your scent is. Of course this didn't aim at a quality reading but instead the proximity to the material itself which varies a lot according to the soil vetiver has rooted on and drank upon, as we explained before.
Tauer finally managed to come to his desired effect: vetiver is clearly visible within Vetiver Dance, yet the pepper, clary sage and the cleaner aspect of lily of the valley garland it into a playful hide-and-seek.

Vetiver and grapefruit notes were allies for a long time, as even the natural oil depending on the source might have this kind of nuance to it. Natural grapefruit essence as well as tangy lemongrass oppose and enhance the rooty aroma in Vetiver Dance. The vetiver derivative Vetiverol extends the earthy Javanese note, upping the vetiver ambience to high volume, dry and tonic. Vetiver Dance is not as single-minded rooty as Vétiver Extraordinaire by F.Malle with its unexpected wet touch, but it is far removed from the starchy cotton-shirts of the bankers of classic Guerlain Vétiver. Its fierce peppery note, very distinct and a source of great hedonism to this spice lover, is supported by natural coriander, clary sage leaves' essence and a slight touch of cardamom oil. To me, the protagonist in the initial stages is the pepper along with the vetiver-grapefruit accord, fiery, dry; cold and hot at the same time.
Although Tauer lists lily of the valley (a recreated note which has been here centered around the soapy Lilial) as well as Bulgarian rose, the fragrance isn't floral or "clean" in the way of several more conservative vetivers in the market, like the two by Creed.
But the surprise comes when the fragrance dries down, revealing a delicious ambrein background which hovers on like a skin-scent, warm, pulsating and sexily tantalising, making this a vetiver fit to be worn on intimate rendez-vous and shared between lovers.

Notes: vetiver oil from Java, grapefruit peel oil, black pepper seed, clary sage, Rose absolute from Bulgaria, lily of the valley, ambergris, cedar wood, Tonka bean and cistus extracts.

Vetiver Dance by Tauer will be available in 50ml/1.7oz of Eau de Toilette starting October. His fragrances are available online from First in Fragrance, Luckyscent and Aedes. Click over to Tauer Perfumes to learn more details. Andy Tauer will be at Scentbar in Los Angeles on October 4 & 17 to introduce Vetiver Dance.
Andy also has a secret in the works which I am not allowed to divulge just yet, but rest assured it will make many fans smile. If only he releases Hyacinth and a Mechanic as well!

For Perfume Shrine readers Andy Tauer suggested a spectacular draw: THREE NEW FULL BOTTLES of the yet unreleased Vetiver Dance. I will randomly pick the winners through random.org and direct them over to Andy who will send them their prizes!
But as a consolation prize, he also sent me a few samples for some more winners*, so state your interest and if you're lucky you will get a chance to get a preview for yourself!

*NB: In the interests of full disclosure, I decided to keep a couple of samples for myself and my S.O., to enjoy this wonderful vetiver till the time comes when I buy my own bottle in October.

Pic of actors rolling in Aristophanes' performance from Epidaurus, via athinorama.gr. Bottle pic via Tauer press release.