Kobako means "small box" in Japanese, as far as I know. But try adding a katana-blade symbol over the first "o," and it turns into Kōbako. Then it gains the nuance of a small box for solid aromatics used in the incense ceremony in kōdō (香道, "Way of Incense"); the ritual burning of incense to count the time. Such is the case with Kobako by the classic French brand Bourjois.
A composition that initially hails from 1936 and the creative genius of perfumer Ernest Beaux, but which survives to this day in a contemporary Parfum de Toilette version that was first issued during the 1980s in the cristal taillé style bottle and the maroon box photographed below. The actual launch date for the modern version is 1982, and I doubt that the two editions have much in common, both stylistically and artistically. There was too much water under the bridge by then.
photo by Elena Vosnaki
It's interesting to note that one of the connotations for the word 'box' is the one used in slang, in many languages, for female genitalia. Indeed, again as far as I have been informed, kōbako in modern Japanese slang refers to that as well. But the scent in question is not an animalic or intimate smell that would polarize at all. In fact, it's this discrepancy that prompted my review.
The current fomula is not the one from the 1930s, so the description pertains to the 1980s mix.
The domineering feeling is one of soap, like an old-fashioned soap for men, with cinnamon and sandalwood, and that creamy feeling that generations past associate with comfort and hot water. The florals used in the heart of Kobako are not discernible; they mix and mingle and tear apart again. There is definitely rose, which mollifies the formula, and probably a segment of something white-floral for a bit of clarity (possibly a part of lily of the valley aroma chemicals to give diffusion and expansion.)
Kobako combines these elements in a naughty, playful, almost haphazard way - the masculine backdrop with the feminine florals and the aldehydes - to render a juxtaposing composition. It hides its dark corners, but it's not entirely clean either. It has the versatility to make itself wearable all year long and never bother or disappear.
It feels fresh and spicy one minute, metallic and powdery the next, with a segment of dry patchouli in the back. What is this scent, I ask you? It consistently garners some comment or other, always in a positive way. It might not be the most accepted fragrance or the most derided - it hinges on that razor-sharp axis - but it's worth sampling at the very least. Some of you will end up wearing it when you won't know what to wear for the day, I promise.
The woody element in the back and the soapiness render Bourjois' Kobako very easy on the skin. There is not enough spice, although cinnamon is mentioned. I do not detect it as such, more of a smidge of clove, which is faint. It's also quite musky, in a good way, not the screechy white musk from laundry detergents, but not dirty either. It just melds with the skin and holds on to it.
Blue Silk, part of a flanker duet launched in 2018 by lingerie brand Agent Provocateur (the other being Lace Noir) is credited to Beverly Bayne, shifting from the usual Christian Provenzano creative umbrella.
The company presented it thus: "Making a sensuous entrance into the Agent Provocateur fragrance collection, Blue Silk is an unforgettable perfume, feminine, provocative and deeply romantic. Piquant top notes of woody, rosy pink pepper, revitalizing citrus from lemon and mandarin and exhilarating, fresh juniper combine with floral middle notes from classic rose and rich, sweet, precious jasmine, alongside the honeyed peach tones of nectarine and the warmth of spicy cinnamon. Leaving a lingering feeling of deep, almost smoky sensuality are the base notes of hypnotic musk, cooling, earthy vetiver, creamily sweet sandalwood and the vanilla, praline-like tones of aromatic tonka bean."
What is uncanny about Blue Silk is its delicious top note of bright and lightly sweet spices. It almost creates the impression of the opening of YSL's discontinued Nu eau de parfum, a fragrance overseen by Tom Ford (and this is telling in so many ways.) The spices are almost rejoicing, they never come across as sharp like the air within the spice cabinet. The composition is redolent of the steamed puddings of Jungle Elephant, but done in miniature form; there is none of the bombastic sillage of Kenzo's mastodont.
The muskiness surfaces like a silky undergarment peeked through a crepe dress; it does feel silky and soft, very wearable and romantic, melding with the wearer's skin, and creates erotic imagery without prompt. Priceless.
As with most Agent Provocateur fragrances Blue Silk is available in 100ml Eau de Parfum at advantageous prices online and is highly recommended.
Many of the original scents created by William Penhaligon were modernized and re-introduced as part of the Anthology Collection. The company maintains its commitment to fine, traditional perfume ingredients and techniques. The bottles for Penhaligon's scents are based on William Penhaligon's original design—clear glass and adorned with a ribbon.
This emblematic heritage is of course something most niche brands, even those proclaiming historical roots, cannot match. It was therefore expected that the company would sooner or later reference the patriarch himself. And so they did, with the newest fragrance, The Inimitable William Penhaligon.
With an above-average lasting power but a rather moderate sillage, the spicy-woody scent of The Inimitable William Penhaligon captures easily one's affections, as it's agreeable by most. For that reason it might seem a bit tame, for those expecting something flamboyant and domineering. Nevertheless, true to form, the scents of the aristocracy itself have never been very loud, as there is no raison d'être for them to be; their calling card is their, well, actual calling card.
The actual scent of The Inimitable William Penhaligon is well-mannered, sociable, milky with its lactonic heart of sandalwood and fig, and the more it stays on, the more pronounced this serene milkiness becomes. If I were to use one word it would be snugly. What I find most interesting is an unexpected green-milky slice in the middle, like that of a fig leaf erupting amidst the vetiver, with the sandalwood's soft qualities soon emerging over the greenness.
The company insists on calling it a vetiver scent, first and foremost, and the deep green liquid inside the bottle might indeed account for expectations of a bracing, pungent scent. But let me assure you this might ease its way into Vetivers for Vetiver-phobics effortlessly, as it lacks the dirty inclinations of vetiver oil and instead opts for a bright, bittersweet opening that quickly segues into the plush of the salon. There is also no discernible incense for the incense-phobics, so approach comfortably, as if you were to be greeted into a cedarwood-clad boutique. Mellow, soft, and silky, really.
Comfortable, sweetish on the drydown, and warm, The Inimitable William Penhaligon could easily be snatched out of the hands of your beloved man and sprayed with gusto onto yourself, dear female reader. Yes, most brands advertise as unisex these days, but it's not always the case; this one is effortlessly borrowed by either sex and projects quite classy at all times.
A comrade of mine in fragrance said, taking the 2019 fragrance launches in retrospect, "In today’s world, chamomile will never be a major perfume trend, unless this world does a 180 degree turn. It’s not that its extracts smell bad: it’s the mythology that comes with it. The most successful things in modern perfumery are sensual — white flowers, sweet stuff. Chamomile, with its tea and eczema cream connotations, is about as sensual as baby's colic. So, no sex in chamomile, but a lot of other things — calm, serenity, memories (hence the name of Gucci’s perfume.) Memories of that field behind Grandma’s house, of that distant time someone special took such good care of you." She was talking about Gucci Mémoire d’une Odeur, i.e. memory of a smell.
The fragrance was an innovation based on a concept by the new creative director at Gucci, Alessandro Michele, whom we have to thank for the innovative outlook that gave us recently niche-quality smelling Gucci Guilty Absolute for men and the worthwhile Gucci Bloom collection of scents.
“Everything comes from my obsession with scents: my memory is primarily olfactive so, for me, my sense of smell is my memory. I thought that, deep down, perfume is that thing that even with your eyes closed, brings you to a precise moment in space and time. When we began to work on Gucci Mémoire d’une Odeur, I tried to imagine the recollection of a scent that couldn’t easily be identified; a hybrid scent that resembles memory as much as possible”..
Gucci Mémoire d’une Odeur is an elixir that transcends gender by its individuality, to establish a new olfactive family, Mineral Aromatic. The transcendent accord features unexpected and enigmatic ingredients, and is defined by a note of Roman chamomile.
Alessandro Michele envisioned this particular flower inside the scent, blended by master perfumer Alberto Morillas.
The famous perfumer mentioned upon launching that ”the musky mineral accord is the keystone of the fragrance: it links all the other olfactive elements together with pure softness. I had to think quite carefully about why Alessandro chose chamomile.
When I started to work with the scent of chamomile itself, then I understood. “No one had done it before. Chamomile is known all over the world. Everyone has smelt it at some point, but as a dream, a memory of childhood, something timeless, and never in a fragrance. This flower is much underestimated and is a plant with an exceptional olfactive signature.”
I'm thinking that the world has since indeed done a 180 degree turn, nothing is the same anymore, and the feeling of someone taking good care of us is such a precious, precious thought that Gucci's Memoire d'une Odeur has become sort of an amulet against evil. Its softly musky, clean trail is a promise of a happy ending in a tangled bedtime story.
Memoire d'une Odeur by Gucci is a special breed apart, even among modern fragrances. A most refined, botanical take on the clean whisper of a scent of woods and chamomile that can be so popular for discreet company. The scent is best retained on fabric (and paper); it tends to seemingly vanish on the skin in a short time which prompts complaints from consumers. In reality it's still there, but the big musk molecules are too large to be perceptible by some individuals.
The sparse bottle is inspired by a vintage Gucci fragrance bottle discovered by Alessandron Michelle and used for Mémoire d’une Odeur’s
bottle. Grooved like a column from an ancient world, the bottle casts a
refined silhouette in heavy transparent light green glass, crowned with
shiny gold cap. Printed gold foil frames the label, revealing the Gucci logo together with the name of the fragrance.
“The packaging comes from the past, inspired by an old Gucci
perfume from the early 90s. I didn’t want the bottle to take on a shape
or size that is too feminine or too masculine because the perfume could
be very much for women or very much for men,” said Alessandro Michele.
Sandalwood comes with all the trappings of voluptuous legends told off the cargo ships coming from the Indian peninsula. The myth of the imperishable sandalwood (so sacred even termites abstain from it) informs many an old tale in the East, where sandalwood is the oriental wood scent par excellence.
Among the many scents inspired by this mystical material Tom Ford's Santal Blush is a gorgeous, clean, dry and creamy sandalwood fragrance with an immediate message of sensuousness and no boozy aftertaste. Both beautiful and wearable, it was composed by talented perfumer Yann Vasnier.
The bet wasn't an easy one: Composing a sandalwood fragrance evocative of the Indian splendors of the Mysore variety, revered for centuries, but without actually using the raw material due to its regional restrictions on use as an endangered species, was a Herculean feat. The result however more than compensates, entering into sandalwood fragrances' Hall of Fame, a genre always popular with perfume lovers. If you like Tam Dao, but prefer a luxe rather than bohemian presentation, this is a refined take on that scented cult memory.
Dependent on skin Ph acidity, the opening spices (I pick fenugreek and cumin especially) might be acrid or nicely piquant and maple-y on the skin. You probably need a small skin test before you get out that credit card.
If travel-inspired fragrances usually hint at the region via their name mainly, then Assam of India corresponds to...India, naturally. As one might surmise it's an evocation of black Assam tea, typical to India, in this case aromatized by a tantalizingly mouthwatering citrus top note that evokes the bergamot addition of Earl Grey tea. Being a firm devotee of this very aromatic blend, the lacing of the southern Europe citrus fruit a welcome addition to the peaty scent of classic black tea, Assam of India by Berdoues didn't have to fight an arduous fight to earn a place of pride on the vanity table.
The perfumer set out in search of these black Assam tea leaves grown at a very low altitude – sea level – that reveal an exceptional character that mirrors India. It is the result of the unique blend of citron from Menton, tea from India and sandalwood from Mysore. The citron from Menton is characterised by very fruitful branches that bear up to twice as many lemons as other varieties. Its half-acid, bitterless flavour gives its essence intense aromas.
Berdoues Assam of India is exactly the sort of thing to pick up on a hot and sweltering day, spraying from head to toe to revel in the tannic and citric notes that cut through the humidity like a scimitar. Beautiful, extremely cute bottle too!
Poor Jon Hamm had to smoke 74 herbal cigarettes in the pilot of Mad Men alone, such is our modern shunning of smoking, even more so on screen, where it's strictly seen as "period work." And yet ... You can do lots of things with a cigarette on hand: gain time, use that sharp intake of smoke as a decisive battle cry, fill that hanging silence of exhaling with something to look into, occupy your hands, offer to light a damsel-in-distress's own cigarette ... smoking has its own language and codes.
Which nicely brings me to our matter at hand. A gorgeous tobacco fragrance for men. Those old-cut ones, like Richard Widmark. Widmark looked quite a bit like my own grandfather, who wore Tabac Original by Mauer & Wirtz; there's poetic justice in the lives of perfumephiles, you see.
Thus goes my review of the Premium II L'Eau de Parfum by Greek brand Korres. Issued in late 2014 and among the very good surprises of the beginning of this year, I realize that it's not exactly summer material (though you could wear it, why not), more of a flannel suit and fedora hat affair, yet it beckoned last week when the heatwave made everything smell so very intensely that I was sure I was either smelling fragrances from three blocks away or experiencing a case of phantosmia (sensing phantom smells). Please find my full review of this beautiful tobacco and woods cologne on this link.
As always you're welcome to comment either here or there or both.
"Wow, this smells like…I've never smells anything like this" or "This doesn't smell like Dolce & Gabban's Light Blue. What do you have that smells like what I usually wear?"are a couple of the whispered comments of customers at the brick & mortar store of Providence Perfume Co, at Providence, RI 02903. I have recently written on the Aesthetic Principle which, like the pleasure principle, should, I believe, lead our choices on fragrances in an increasingly rationed world. And thus I find it pertinent that my review of Ivy Tower should follow it. Here is a green floral that is beautiful, delicate, different and missing the "herbal" component of some all naturals, which to echo its perfumer "doesn't smell like Light Blue and I'm OK with that."
Green fragrances are a difficult bunch to render in all natural essences, mainly because the green-smelling materials fall into two groups which each possesses one stumbling block: the natural elements, such as galbanum resin, are either very hard to dose in a composition of all naturals without overpowering the blend (Chanel No.19andJacomo Silencesare not perfumes for wussies!) or else are so subtle that they vanish quickly, such as the cucumber-tea note of mimosa blossom.; the more convincing synthetic materials such as cis-3 hexenol with its cut-grass feeling, Ligustral (snapped leaves) and Lilial with its green lily of the valley aura are of course off grounds for a natural perfumer.
Chanel No.19 Poudre tried to reconcile the green monster with the emerald-hued polished nails with the grassy rolling waif in gauzy whites and it presents a modern "temperate" effort that is valiant, if a bit tamed, for the lovers of the original Chanel icon that inspired it. I don't recall many other contemporary fragrances in the delicate greens genre that truly made it (A Scent by Issey Miyake though quite good never met with the success it deserved, Bvlgari's Omnia Green Jade is sorta too tame for its own good), excluding the niche scene for obvious reasons.
So Charna Ethier exhibits skill in rendering a rustic rained upon scene from somewhere north; like a secluded private garden in York, in North Yorkshire, I had once visited, all rainy soaked paths and ivy climbing on stone-walls retaining the rain drops and reflecting them like giant water bubbles that make your bones chill a bit even in the dead of summer. The fragrance of Ivy Tower like those bubbles takes on shades of green, blue, and gentle lilac, depending on where it hits on a warm, blood-pulsing vein and hovers there for a while in the confluence of watery sprites and drowning Ophelias. Eventually it takes on a more customary jasmine, lilies and woodsy notes path, but the journey up to there is dreamy enough to make a heart melt a bit.
Ivy Tower (green) is part of a new collection of natural perfume oils by all naturals perfumer Charna Ethier of Providence Perfume Co, whose Samarinda has been reviewed on these pages before. The rest of the collection includes Rose 802 (pink), Orange Blossom Honey (orange), Summer Yuzu(yellow), Sweet Jasmine Brown (blue) and Violet Beauregarde (violet). The oils are color coded, which is supremely practical when sampling. The choice of an oil format (admittedly not one of my strong suits as I usually like the abundance effect that an alcohol based format allows) stems from the customer base: people blending essences at Providence's popular perfume bar, citing a desire for portability and longevity. The given notes for Ivy Tower by Providence Perfume Co are: jonquil, mimosa, geranium, jasmine, narcissus, blue tansy, lily, sandalwood. Info and purchase at www.providenceperfume.com In the interests of disclosure I was sent a sample by the perfumer for reviewing purposes.
The upcoming launch by the historic house of Guerlain is called Santal Royal and comes in a bottle in the style of their "Eau de lit" and "Eau de lingerie" scents, but dressed in pitch dark black, with a gold filigree label and a cap and adorned with a tassel in black & gold hanging from the neck.
Guerlain Santal Royal is an oriental woody perfume with spicy overtones that heralds the coming of the cooler season, in the manner of "cashmere scents" we perfumistas here on PerfumeShrine like to annotate to autumn and winter. Jan Masters describes it as "an evening scent, although I could imagine it cheering up grey days as if cosying up in a cashmere wrap."
Of course pair Guerlain and sandalwood in the same phrase and everyone thinks of Guerlain Samsara (with the lone historian reminiscing about Guerlain Santal parfum from the first years of the 20th century), but we're told this is a very different perfume.
Santal Royal is a Harrods exclusive launch for the opening of their Salon de Parfums, retailing at £125 for 125ml of fragrance and the scent is composed by resident perfumer for Guerlain Thierry Wasser. Harrods are plugging the Salon des Parfums, a new abode for perfume enthusiasts on the 6th floor, which opens on October 16th at 8pm, attendance by invitation only. The fragrance will eventually arrive on boutique counters as well.
The fragrance notes for Guerlain Santal Royal include the eponymous mystical note of sandalwood, coupled with cinnamon and fresh neroli on the top, while the deeper, denser notes of warm amber, musk and leather rise from the base. Preliminary reportage suggests also a note of rose and oud in the formula that isn't mentioned in the official breakdown.
My own addition is that now that the sustainable Australian sandalwood plantations of Santalum alba have been fruitful we're set for a new wave of sandalwood fragrances that will reprise that most prized of woody notes. Assuming of course that Santal Royal contains said ingredient.
Ysatis remains among the most memorable perfume launches of my childhood, alongside Cacharel's Loulou, mainly due to the commercial that accompanied it, much like Faure's dreamy Pavane did for the latter. In the Greek version, a marvelously sonorous, rhyming phrase was able to be coined for the launch, a fact that would be difficult to accomplish in any other language: "Αναζητείς το Υζαντίς" it went (a-na-zee-TEES toh ee-sah-TEES), roughly meaning that the love-struck male that would smell it would be forever seeking the source of the fragrant Ysatis. It does lend one to daydreaming, doesn't it. Especially to an impressionable, already obsessed with perfumes, mind such as mine, back in 1984.
The reality, as is often the case with perfumes, is far more prosaic: Jean Courtiere, president of Parfums Givenchy, came up with the name, while searching ~as is the formal naming process~ for something non copyrighted, non insulting in any known language and mellifluous enough to be catchy. Ysatis it was and it stuck.
The story
I also vividly recall that Ysatis was accompanied by images of carnival, chess board games and Venetian masks, a fact that I mistakenly attributed it to the masterminds at the advertising company borrowing heavily from the Venezia by Laura Biagiotti popularity, at its apex during the early 1990s, but it looks like it was done in reverse. (disregard the art school project ones posing as authentic). Accurately enough, my memory is as it should be: not only is the architectural Art-Deco-meets-skyscraper bottle of Ysatis posing as a chess piece itself, the commercial is set to a scene from the Venetian carnival (to the succeeding scoring of Hendel's Sarabande, immortalized in Kubrick's Barry Lynton, and of Folias d'Espagna by Arcangelo Corelli): the intrigued, love-struck man in question is seeking the glamorous, 1940s vague-coiffed and 1980s made-up woman behind the mask, the truth behind the glamorous facade. It all stood as very impressive and to this day I think they involuntarily captured a huge part of perfume's intellectual appeal; what is it that makes us want to peel the layers off a person like the beige-purple petticoats off an onion?
I'm relaying all these very personal associations to drive to the fact that Parfums Givenchy had a nice, long-standing tradition in my house, as my grandfather was a devotee of Givenchy Gentleman (1974), my mother occasionally dabbed from Givenchy III (1970) and my father had an amorous relationship with Xeryus (1986) many moons ago. So falling for Ysatis wasn't far fetched at all and taking in mind the first perfume I bought with my pocket money was YSL Opium, it seemed like a natural enough progression into the abyss into perfume appreciation. In fact the fragrance was so popular in Greece that a local fashion "chain" is still named after it.
Searching for this perfume these past couple of days I come across Ysatis advertised as "the perfume of power". But this is not what it stood for for me. Perceptions have significantly changed and we're not the creatures we were in the 1980s, when everything seemed possible, even gassing out everyone in the room with one's scent fumes, but Ysatis, poised as it is between three categories (floral, oriental and chypre) in its complex formula, has the tremendous force to evoke a time when one felt untouchable.
It sounds rather perverse and morbid choice for a teen, but I kinda think I was morbid all along. We did listen to lots of Joy Division and Cure and Siouxie & the Banshees and read Poe poems and gothic tales, so I suppose it wasn't just me.
The scent of Ysatis
The main fragrance story of Givenchy Ysatis is unfolded in pummeling, sultry and creamy smelling essences of orange flower, ylang ylang and tuberose, brightened by the citrusy but sweetish oil of mandarin and chased by animal fragrance notes (smells like heaps of civet to me and there's also castoreum) and some spice in the base (the unusual for a feminine fragrance bay rum as well as clove). It's pretty "whoa, what the hell hit me?" at any rate. Like Gaia, The Non Blonde, says: "Ysatis is not for the meek or those still figuring out their style and taste". Word. If you have liked and worn Organza (also by Givenchy) in the 1990s, or Cacharel Loulou, and Ubar by Amouage, you have high chances of claiming Ysatis with the clinging tenderness usually reserved for Nutella jars.
Ysatis was composed by Dominique Ropion, maker of such ebullient, expansive fragrances as Amarige, Pure Poison, Carnal Flower, Portrait of a Lady, Une Fleur de Cassie, Alien, RL Safari, Flowerbomb or Kenzo Jungle, among many many others.
Ysatis has been reformulated and repackaged, though not ruined in the process; it's till Amazonian and lusciously haute bourgeois. Still if you're searching for the older formula, it comes in the black box vs. the newer purple one. The original bottles even read Ysatis de Givenchy. There is also a flanker, Ysatis Iris, also in a purple box, though that one has a purple hued bottle as well and of course the moniker "Iris" just below the name. Still, keep a sharp eye when shopping, as it's a rather different scent (focusing on violet & iris note sandwiched between the citrusy top and floriental bottom).
I have a generous miniature of vintage Ysatis for a lucky winner. Please state in the comments what was your favorite 1980s scent and what scents you'd like to see featured in the Underrated Perfume Day feature on Perfume Shrine. Draw is open internationally till Sunday midnight and winner will be announced sometime on Monday.
Husks of cardamom, crashed and fragrant, in my pocket. A window opening up to a vista of green pines overlooking the Mediterranean azure blue under the crisp but smiling sun of noon. The scent of clean linen dried in the fresh air in the breeze and the human warmth of a worn wool sweater approaching. Zesty citrus as when you scrap a bitter orange with your nails. Scattered writings on the desk, unfinished phrases, small notes of random thoughts. Pencil shavings in an ashtray, abandonded and lonely. A beautiful stem of jasmine cut and browning by the hour. Safety. Serenity. Solace.
When in 2003 the formidable collaboration of perfumers Jean Claude Ellena and Bertrand Duchaufour came up with the originalColonia Assoluta for Acqua di Parma the feat wasn't announced with fanfare. But now that the classical Cologne has re-emerged from the attic as the eternal sine qua non of Southern European elegance and proper grooming, when totally modern spins on this time-honored genre, such as GS03 (Biehl Parfumkunstwerke), as well as more traditional ones, like Chanel Eau de Cologne, draw our attention, rediscovering this refined gem in a gorgeous presentation for its 10th anniversary is occasion for rejoicing.
Acqua di Parma assures us that more than ten ingredients are of a natural origin in their Colonia Assoluta:
Calabrian bergamot, red orange, orange blossom, jasmine, lavender, rosemary, Virginia cedar and sandalwood. Less citrusy than the original Colonia, more emphatically aromatic and mossier, the way Cartier Declaration is mossy under the cardamom cool spiciness, Colonia Assoluta is everything I picture a graceful man (or a woman who loves using shared fragrances) of my culture wearing.
The bottle design for the Colonia Assoluta 10th anniversary isn't just random: This special edition decorated with graphic signs is inspired by the moving spokes of a bicycle. The original pattern was designed by Acqua di Parma to convey the contemporary feel of this particular Eau de Cologne and its users, modern men around town, atop their bicycle. The original motif is reproduced in the bottle and case with the spokes stretching across the surface in silver hues, the distinctive colour of Colonia Assoluta. It is through a special craft that the spokes are engraved on the glass surface in order to create light and dark contrasts serving as an elegant expression of the sophisticated scent itself. Light contrasts keep changing with every motion of the large sized 180ml bottle, offered in the refillable version to last in time.
Notes for Acqua di Parma Colonia Assoluta:
Top: bergamot, bitter orange, sweet orange and lemon verbena
Heart: jasmine, vetiver, ylang-ylang, cedar, cardamom, pink pepper and paprika
Base: patchouli, oakmoss, white musk, sandalwood and resins
Please note this isn't the first special edition for Colonia Assoluta: there is also Editione Riviera (2007), Editione Speciale 2011 and Colonia Assoluta in Villa (2009). This 10th anniversary edition is code-named Colonia Assoluta Editione Speciale 2013.
To make this 180ml/6oz bottle you see in the picture yours, please post a comment saying whether you bicycle or not (and why) and if you have any favorite associations with bicycles. Mine will forever be Ladri di Biciclette by Vittorio de Sica.
Draw is open internationally till Sunday 10th October midnight and the winner will be announced on Monday.
What do we know of India really? Its people say सत्यमेव जयते (i.e. truth alone triumphs), a motto inscribed in all local currency, but to our western mind this vast country is a tapestry of so colorful a thread and such intricate a yearn that it is almost impossible to exhaust it if one had two lifetimes over to do so.Bombay Bling! by Neela Vermeire Créations aims to give us a glimpse of this tapestry. Testing it I was expecting to savor this complexity; to paraphrase Dracula addressing Harker before coming to London, I so longed to go through the crowded streets of your mighty Bombay, to be in the midst of the whirl and the rush of humanity, to share its life, its changes, its deaths. The fragrance didn't disappoint. On the contrary. It rekindled the desire to go to India again, to merge myself with it.
Bombay Bling! by Neela Vermeire is meant to fuse the dichotomy of India: the advances of the economic world and the colorful culture. The underbelly of the big city combined with the glitter of Bollywood on the vast sandy stretches of Juhu beach and the Queen’s necklace. Fortunes made and lost on the Bombay stock exchange and gambling dens of Mumbai. Beyond the Deccan plateau's archeological ruins...a figurative arm's length beyond the place where Alexander the Great wept, his fate, glory and dreams behind him, before him only the sea...where the cenotaphs of rajputs of Jaisalmer lie... there, in that still shrouded land a giant is stretching its legs and testing its strength; India. An exuberant fragrance, Bombay Bling! takes as a point of departure the mingling of tart, juicy fruits (an unripe mango veering into citrusy tang) squirted over lush flowers of the subcontinent and underscored with a humming woody backdrop. The deep, earthy sweetness of patchouli leaves blends with the banana note of the ylang. Brown sugar and cumin-like intimacy, like when you're smelling a lover's sweat, dripping on sandalwood chippings; milky, soft drydown, yet radiant and fun loving, like a lime and paprika dish with a side of mango chutney. Above all Bombay Bling! is optimism in a bottle!
Bombay Bling! is part of the original trio of fragrances issued by Neela Vermeire Créations which also includes Trayee and Mohur(the fourth instalment, Ashoka, is launching soon). These Indian inspired perfumes, like Chants of India, draw upon the tradition, history and cultural milieu of that vast Eastern sub-continent in which Neela herself has roots. These are truly "transparent orientals", modern and wearable, and therefore it comes as no surprise that Neela commissioned Bertrand Duchaufour to compose them for her niche line.
They are all satisfying tenacious and project with varying force, with Trayee the most introverted and Bombay Bling the most extroverted. Their trail is delicious, creating a lasting impression.
Bombay Bling! is available as an Eau de Parfum 55ml (in refillable flacons), available at select stockists and on www.neelavermeire.com, where you can find a discovery set
The song is of course originally from film Mother India (music by Ali Naushad Saab) but this is a very popular Greek-lyric version called "My poor heart, how can you bear it" (lyrics written in the 1960s by Demetris Goutis) hereby sung by Eleni Vitali.
A small token of appreciation of one people to another...
Frédéric Malle has a few tricks up his elegant sleeve for catering to jaded perfume lovers still. In a new project involving collaborating with various designers, offering his editorial skills and his liaisons with the best perfumers in the business, I learned that Malle is going to launch a line of eponymous designer scents that go off the beaten path. The first fruit of this collaboration is a fragrance for Dries Van Noten, one of the pioneers of the Antwerp "School of Six". The collaboration isn't that out of the blue as one would think: Van noten distributes fragrances in the Éditions de Parfums Frédéric Malle in his boutiques for some time now; Dries Van Noten par Frédéric Malle is the natural outcome.
Although the formula was being developed for the past year and was originally set for an autumn 2012 launch the perfectionism of Malle prevailed and the launch is set for February 15th. But that's not all.
Not only is the collaboration with a fashion designer news, it's also an innovation on the formula front, as the new Malle perfume is touted to be inclusive of a new, natural Indian sandalwood from a sustainable source. Indian sandalwood, for those who didn't know, had essentially been eradicated from perfumery in the last 20 years or so, due to concerns and regulations on the sustainability of the Mysore sandalwood. The news therefore is a leap of hope for the industry in general and sure to create a real peak of interest in the heart of every perfume fan out there. The new fragrance is an oriental woody, smooth and polished like the designs of Van Noten.
The composition has been undertaken by rising perfumer Bruno Jovanovich of International Flavors and Fragrances (IFF)
The fragrance notes for the upcoming Dries van Noten par Frédéric Malle are citron, sandalwood, guaiac wood, saffron, Spanish jasmine, tonka beans, Cashmeran/blonde woods, vanilla and musk.
As you can see the presentation of the bottle is also different than the rest of the Malle portfolio, as this is a separate line.
A lab batch sample is trickling my way and after a percursory sniff I'd love to offer it to one of our readers before its official launch. Please enter a comment with any of your thoughts on the Malle line or on sandalwood, or anything perfume related and I will draw a winner on Thursday.
The majestic scent of sandalwood stands as the benevolent Hitopadeśa tales of the Far East, a fan of fantasy woven in didactic morals for princes, much like the precious real fans carved out of the prized wood for cooling off in the intense heat of the Indian peninsula; rich, milky-smelling, with a hint of incense and fresh greenery at times, still retaining their scented glamour as decades go by. The intimate, elegant aura of woody fragrances finds its apogee in sandalwood; perfumes plush and collapsingly soft but with the promise of intelligence. Santal Majuscule by Serge Lutens just comes to reinforce this notion as introduced on these pages a while ago, being the perfect sandalwood starter fragrance for those seeking such a thing, but also a welcome Lutensian offering to make me fall again headfirst into his Alice in Wonderland private cosmos I found myself tangled in ever since he issued the sumptuous La Myrrhe. Lutens however remains Lutens: the orient is ever present, but it is the occident which defines his torturing demons. His new Santal Majuscule is an assured step in his Camino de Perfección, modeled after St.Teresa of Ávila whose Latin motto seals the fate of the fragrance: is it the throes of passion or the throes of divine ecstasy that mark the lines of her face? Where does one end and the other begin? Her devotion of silence is symbolic of the enigmatic nature of the Lutensian opus itself.
"Pride must be celebrated. Thus the boy, clad in armor and perched on his horse, along with a terrible princess in full mourning dress, pictured himself arriving at the Coronation Mass to the sound of thundering hooves, just at the moment of the transubstantiation, that very moment when the priest holds the host up to the cross, to the one agonizing on it."
"As you know, there are a wide variety of sandalwoods. Mysore is one that has been subjected for some time to a hidden trafficking. I had used it in the mid 90s, during the creation of Santal de Mysore. Santal Blanc is another thing. Regarding Santal Majuscule, this is an Australian sandalwood, high quality, but with this release, I 'sensationalized' it so much that in the end, it is impossible to tell if it comes from India, Australia or elsewhere. What interests me is what I can do with it. Moreover, using sandalwood for itself alone would be a little 'Sandalwood of misery'...."Serge Lutens quote from interview bestowed to Elena Vosnaki
It's not hard to see why sandalwood ~despite having another two in the line already (Santal Blanc recently being moved into the Paris exclusives line to couple with the resident Santal de Mysore)~ was picked yet again as the foundation on which Lutens built his church, to paraphrase another religious reference. Sandalwood is the natural product par excellence, nature's agony and ecstasy: a scent so fine, so rich and yet with a fresh top note, so creamy sweet and so enduring, that it has inspired generations of men and women to harvest its precious, sacred trunk in order to imbue products for personal, religious and public use with its fine aroma. Although as explained in my Raw Material Sandalwood article the Mysore variety is rationed for fear of depletion (hence the wealth of synthetic sandalwood substitutes enumerated), the polished silkiness of the Indian variant could be mimicked creatively only by the choicest wizards of perfumery. And who more excellent than the mercurial figure of Serge Lutens to offer us a vista into the orientalia of a "nouveau sandalwood"?
The maestro revealed to me in an interview (replete with his childhood reminiscences of classroom ennui) that Santal Majuscule is technically based on the Australian sandalwood variety (which smells different), but I can attest the perfume ends up smelling like an radiant attar procured somewhere close to King Víkrama's lion-throne, creamy and luminous in its rose-distillate facets, sprinkled with promise of cocoa and soft spices (cinnamon), silky sheen with a hint of orange blossom honey and sweet incense in the background. After all, Lutens managed to inject a delicious effect of sandalwood in his savory gourmand fragrance Jeux de Peau, where the impression is again built on fantasy.
For Santal Majuscule, perfumer Chris Sheldrake and Lutens weaved the familiar web of woody tonalities which they have composed a thesis and a meta-thesis on, ever since Feminite du Bois (the latter alongside Pierre Bourdon). But whereas their other woody compositions can veer dark and rather brooding (see the patchouli & cocoa fantasy of Borneo) and we know from Iris Silver Mist and Tubereuse Criminelle the master has a taste for the morose and the morbid, here the treatment is smiling; petal-soft, sweetish (but never much) and with an elegance and refined allure that defies preconceived notions. The rose is perceptible, but not "dated", The apricoty tinge gives just the right fruity, almost edible tenderness, an ally to the liqueur-like essence of Damask rose and the creaminess of the woods. But the fragrance is far from his Rahat Loukhoum gourmand quality you can give yourself cavities with, making it pliable enough for people who don't like double helpings of anything.
The composition of Santal Majuscule also defies ~especially upon drying down on the skin~ the familiar, been-there-done-that rose attar model of the Middle East: that traditional "A Thousand and One Nights" melange of rose and sandalwood, as recognizable as Aladdin's cave in the desert. The longer the fragrance stays on skin (and it stays on very long) the more it gains a skin-scent aura of musk and honey, animalic yet elegant, with an addictive character, unisex and inviting; like living, breathing, caressed human skin this close to the throes of (divine?) ecstasy. As Serge says: "Obey what you smell, feel, love. Do not obey what you're told, and do not believe it too much!"[from same interview to the author]
Given all this, I just can't wait for Une Voix Noire, his next installment in the canon.
Compared to the other two sandalwood fragrances in the Serge Lutens line of perfumes, Santal Majuscule is less sweet than Santal Blanc, less daring and austere than Santal de Mysore. Contrasted with that other golden standard of sandalwood perfumes, Tam Dao by Diptyque, I find myself ensnared by the Lutens, mainly because where Tam Dao used to be true and rich, it now boasts a pronounced pencil-shavings cedarwood note which limits its prior rich versatility.
Santal Majuscule is available in Eau de Parfum "haute concentration" (i.e. the slightly pricer than normal black label line of high concentration) at Les Salons du Palais Royal in Paris and online. Starting September 1st 2012 the new "export" fragrance will be sold worldwide.
A generous decant sprayer of the latest Lutens perfume is available for one lucky reader!Please let me know in the comments what you like or not about Lutens and sandalwood perfumes in general. Draw is open till Friday 27th midnight internationally. Draw is now closed, thanks everyone for participating.
A new fragrance by Serge Lutens is always news on Perfume Shrine. In addition to the Paris exclusive Lutens Une Voix Noire which we announced a while ago on these pages (and the accompanying Le Vaporisateur Tout Noir, an all black portable atomiser for carrying your favorite Lutens fragrance in your handbag in total style, coming out in October 2012), the maestro is bring out another fragrance this year.
Set for launch in July and destined for the export line (black label high concentration oblong bottle), Lutens presents his third fragrance with Santal in the name, after Santal Blanc (recently upgraded to the exclusives line) and Santal de Mysore; this time it's Santal Majuscule! (Meaning "capital sandalwood", sandalwood in capitals, sandalwood to the max; or perhaps thus implying it's un parfum capiteux, which means heady, intoxicating in French).
We can also hypothesize whether it will be a classic interpretation of sandalwood (not very likely given the rationing of the Mysore variety) or an etude on the different species of Australian sandalwood with its interesting facets. Newer info right off the source suggests this is a study on the scent of Indian sandalwood (which means anything!), which I find imaginative; this is what they told me for all it's worth.
As correctly surmissed on Basenotes back then, at any rate this is the name of the new Lutensian opus (this is official) and we can get an appetite till July rolls.
EDIT TO ADD: The new Santal Majuscule revolves around three main notes: sandalwood of course, bittersweet cocoa absolute and Damask rose, fresh and slightly spicy. As Serge, cryptically as usual says: "Provoked by the fresh and peppery prickle of the Damask rose, it reflects the sweet bitterness of childhood memories via cocoa absolute. Medieval legends recounted in precious books ...creamy spicy dressing for a majestic Sandalwood. Its name? Sandalwood: The Sacred Wood / Capital: The Rare Illuminations." And the motto as seen in the ad, in Latin no less? "Oboedi silentiis meis, non imperii" (Obey my silence and not my orders)
official ad of Serge Lutens new perfume Santal Majuscule
Additionally, if you haven't read it yet, there's a short interview (in English) with Lutens on Botanical Inspirations on Another Magazine, on his previous fragranceL'Eau Froide and his home on Morocco.
photo by Lutens, Despointes (Unknown Lady in a Hat), 1972.
"Give him Madame Rochas. A few drops at a time."
~New Yorker magazine vintage ad 27 November 1965
Madame Rochas was the signature scent of my grandmother in her mature years and lovingly picked by my own mother as well, when my grandmother passed away. They were unconsciously true to the wise words of a vintage ad: "Rule: Your perfume should change as often as your mood. Exception: Madame Rochas." It does make for a glorious signature fragrance...I well remember smelling the perfume on both women as a little girl, thinking it smelled simply wonderful. And it still does, transporting me to an elegant vision of old money class, beautiful restraint, no vulgar displays of anything, be it flesh or wealth. But that's not to say she's not sexy or femme either. Another vintage ad puts it well: "In France romance is a national passion. So is Madame Rochas". And it is indeed very much a "perfume in the French style".
Like classical art, this Guy Robert scented creation always felt like it was simply striking the right proportions.
Character & Attitude: A Grande Dame
To describe Madame Rochas feels a bit like ornamenting that which needs no ornament. Much like my maternal grandmother, she is a Grande Dame, never an ingenue, girl-next-door, damsel in distress or soubrette. This might be the reason this 1960 creation fell somewhat out of favor commercially in the last 15-20 years when perfumery reached its apogee of fragrance creation ideals focused on naive youthfulness, immediate accessibility or plain out weirdness for the sensationalist/witty effect. Much like on cannot imagine the generation of CK One approaching their elders' vanities with anything but a dismissed "pffft", one cannot envision Madame Rochas on anyone under 30. Unless of course we're talking a perfumista who dabbles in decades past.
On the contrary Madame Rochas is in a way Lanvin's Arpège revisited for the 1960s and the new jet set emerging, a sort of Parisian Mod, Jackie Kennedy shops French designers before becoming First Lady. Madame Rochas is also interesting as a milestone in perfumer's Guy Robert opus in that it set the stage for his Hermes Calèche to follow the following year, Madame Rochas' drier twin sister; the latter would would influence the market for quite awhile.
The fragrance was created specifically under the commision of Hélène Rochas, the young wife of the Rochas house founder, for whom Femme de Rochaswas also made when she went into wedlock. She was only 30 when the perfume was officially issued, showing just how far and wide tastes in what is considered youthful have shifted.
Scent Description
The aldehydes open on a dewy but sunny April morning: Hyacinth, lemon and neroli are shining with green-waxy-lemony shades before an indeterminate floral heart opens with woody tonalities (tuberose, rose, narcissus and jasmine). The propelling provided by the muskier, mossier, lightly powdered (never talc-like) base extends the florals and woods on for hours. The complexity of the formula and the intricate structuring of its accords accounts for its radiance and tenacity.
The powdery orris feel is underscored by the fresh and at the same time musty vetiver; but the proportion is such that the end result doesn't smell musty at all.
This bright, vivacious, graceful bouquet gains subtly soapy nuances of corpulent lily of the valley with only a slight hint of floral sweetness; its delicious bitterness, almost chypré, lurking beneath the green flowers is its hallmark of elegance. Inedible, smelling like proper perfume with a surprising warmth, ambery-like, like honeycomb smelled at a distance, Madame Rochas is an aldehydic floral perfume in the grand manner and thanks to its perfect harmony, lack of uprightness and full on humanity it is among the most legible in this demanding genre as well, not to mention romantic and sensuous too.
If you thought you couldn't "do" aldehydic fragrances because you can't succumb to the most famous example Chanel No.5, maybe Madame Rochas will do the trick. It sums up good taste.
Fragrance Editions: Vintage vs. Modern & Bottle Design
The original Madame Rochas was introduced in 1960 and was re-issued 1982 in its second edition, re-orchestrated by Jean Luis Sieuzac. The original bottle design represents a replica of a 18th century bottle which was in the collection of Helene Rochas herself. The box is printed like a tapestry.
The new edition design was adapted by Pierre Dinand and is available in 30, 50 and 100 ml of eau de toilette. The box is white with gold lettering.
The new version of Madame Rochas is somewhat lighter than I recall and less spicy- powdery, emphasizing green floral notes on the expense of balmy, woody ones. But it's still classy and collected at all times and a bargain to get.
Who is it for?
I would recommend this for all Calèche, Climat de Lancome, YSL Y, Guerlain Chamade and even Dioressence lovers. Climat is much more powdery and immediately aldehydic, Y is more chypre and Chamade relies more on hyacinths. Dioressence starts with sweeter notes in the openening and is much more animalic-smelling in the deeper notes, especially in the vintage orientalised verion. Madame Rochas could also be a great fit if you like things like Rive Gauche by YSL, Paco Rabanne Calandre, Revillon Detchema or Tauer's Tableau de Parfums Miriam.
La Vallée Bleue from 1943, smack between the Occupation of Paris and the turmoil of WWII, comes in a moment in history rich in intrigue, ravages and the desire to escape them; which was puzzling me when I first discovered it exactly due to its timing. The perfume is also a poignant station in a long line of nowadays largely unknown Lancôme perfumes: the first five with which the firm was established in 1935 by Armand Petitjean -previously manager director at Coty- on occasion of the Brussels Exhibition (Bocages, Conquête, Kypre, Tendres Nuits, Tropiques, alongside Etiquette Noire, Cachet Bleu from the same year),Révolte (1936), Peut-Être (1937 and briefly re-issued in the late 2000s), Gardénia (1937), Flèches (1938), Fête de Paris (1938), Chèvrefeuille (1939) and of course Cuir (the changed name of the original Révolte) also from 1939.
These intermittent years of the war saw not only one, but four Lancome perfumes introduced: Les Oiseaux from 1944 as well as Ange and Lavandes in 1945. There is also La Nativité, briefly issued in 1945, relaunched in 1952 and then discontinued. Perhaps it is our twisted perception of the war-time era which accounts for our perplexment at this.
We tend to either overdramatize the plight, imagining that everything disappeared as if stolen by aliens, or we tend to imagine that the situation was more heroic than it was seeing numerous French resistance fighters where there were instead many collaborators and attendates (people remaining silent, just watching to see what happens). The truth is many commodities, even luxury commodities, continued to circulate, either for those in positions of power (be it the position of conqueror or of black-market profiteer) or for those who could still afford to get them in some way. At a time of strict rationing, women still permed their hair and bought cosmetics to boost their morale. L'Oréal, the famous French company starting in hair-dyes under the brand name Auréole (and who ultimately bought Lancôme out in 1965 after Petitjean's retirement in 1963), was so energetic that even the outbreak of World War II in 1939 failed to curb the company's growth and they continued to produce cosmetics throughout: Oréol, the first cold permanent wave, was introduced in 1945 when the war was drawing to an end. La Valée Bleue isn't totally incogruent with this frame.
The intoduction of Lancôme in the USA after WWII saw a proliferation of perfumes issued: A new trio for 1946: Marrakech, Nutrix and Qui Sait, Bel Automne (1947), Joyeux Eté (1947), Minlys (1949), Magie (1950), Lait des Hesperides (1950), Galateis (1951), Trésor (1952), Eau de Senteur de Lancôme (1952), Plaisir (1952), Grâces du Printemps (1952), Envol (1952), Seul Tresor (1955), Flèches D'Or (1957), Lancôme d'Abord (1958), Fêtes de l'Hiver (1959) all the way to Climat by 1967, which was introduced under the new ownership.
The scent of La Valée Bleue was not languishing though, as attested by the fact that it used to circulate in antique French coffrets including 4 Lancôme perfume bottles: Conquête, La Vallée Bleue, Bocages, Tendres Nuits. One alonside the 1935 classics, so to speak. Someone was buying this stuff regularly to make it popular enough, if it formed part of a selection to be offered as a gift.
La Valée Bleue smells like a vintage, but not necessarily too dated, too dark or thick and somewhat musty as some of the old perfumes do. The freshness of the composition, which rested on lime and lemon essences, refreshing with winey rosy terpenic nuances on a bed of herbaceous, cooling lavender, light amber and sandlwood, gave the perfume a character that is not contrasted too sharply with today's sensibilities. Sensibilities which demand a balance of fresh and warm, a balance between emotional and reserved. Even though the lavender is central in the plot, the fragrance smells like a composite mosaic in the SanVitale basilica in Ravenna rather than the central theme in a kid's 10-piece puzzle. Obviously the ravages of time and war have burnished some of the sheen of the vintage I have tried, so it's difficult to pinpoint exactly what goes into it. The general feel however is one of innocent nostalgia and mystery, reinforced by the landscape-evocative name and the timing of this elusive Lancôme perfume.
Pics thanks to the generosity and assistance of Lovelyhazel/MUA & her photographing husband. All copyright is theirs. Used here with permission.
Should anyone were to purchase a masculine Chanel fragrance off the mainstream, department store circuit, Antaeus would top the list. Beyond the easy-to-like-factor of Égoïste, Antaeus is at once satisfyingly full-bodied and perversely challenging to pin down, like a porcupine run amok. It both feels as ambitious as Gordon Gecko and is sexy as hell at the same time. In fact "shexy" is more accurate of a description; it was the first, purring exclamation my girl friend blurted out when presented with a blotter sprayed with it. Her eyes all sprakled up, I swear! And she's a gal to wear floral musks and light woodies herself, no potent stuff by any stretch of the imagination.
As to Antaeus Sport Cologne, such an outfit not only exists, it's totally hawt itself! Contrary to what might be expected of the name, it's neither new, nor shy, sporty-smelling cologne. Instead Antaeus Sport was conceived just 4 years after the original as a rather less chest-thumping version; in contemporary terms, that's as polite as Gordon Ramsay and as meek as Simon Cowell and I just love it. I've made myself crystal clear, I hope? Good! On to the more analytical description.
Chanel Antaeus Scent Description & Contradictions
Antaeus hails from Greek mythology, though it was Jacques Wartheimer who decided to name his company's new masculine thus after the shop name of one of his friends (don't ask!). The handsome hero with the hostile name (the Greek "Antaios" means opposing, it survived as Änti in the Berber tradition, since the hero was supposedly born in Libya) was a giant (the son of Greek Goddess of the Earth, Gaeia, and of Poseidon, the god of the sea) and the fragrance would be just as powerful. His advantage, in true Dracula-style millenia before the Stoker hero, was touching the sacred earth-mother for regaining his strength, and classical sculpture presents him in wrestling poses with Hercules lifting him in the air in a crushing bearhug. No wonder Chanel Antaeus soon became a cult gay favourite! As would have been expected, Antaeus is a beautiful, classically handsome earthy chypre scent, woody-baritone in timbre with glorious animalic, leathery and herbal accents. Not only that, but it's classically built into an arc of progressing accords which keeps one engrossed till the very end.
Composed in 1981 by in-house Chanel perfumer Jacques Polge, in-house Chanel perfumer after Henri Robert and Ernest Beaux before him, it brings back the 80s as surely as Doc Martins, suspenders on men, and jackets with shoulderpads. The fragrance is so complex, nuanced and well-blended, I seem to sometimes pick up notes that aren't even listed in the official notes given by the company, such as chamomille, smooth amber, some subdued rose beneath the patchouli, even a hint of fruit...then I can't quite catch them again, and on and on. It's also funny that it gives the impression of being oakmoss-rich, while in fact neither of the boxes are stating even as small a percentage as 0,1% as allowed by IFRA directions. Not only that, but its perfumer, Jacques Polge, has been put on record in French paper Le Figaro, a propos the launch of "nouveau chypre" 31 Rue Cambon as not a great fan of oakmoss anyway, because he" finds the smell too bitter". A self-proclaimed oriental lover, mr.Polge "had to search for exotic varieties of patchouli growth to substitute the moss element that is needed in a chypre composition". Yet surely such reasons had no resonance back in 1981 and Polge has used oakmoss before (even in keepsaking the other Chanel fragrances he didn't author). But smelling Antaeus besides similarly veined leathery woody-oriental Yatagan by Caron, one sees how it might just be possible.
The opening blast of Antaeus is arid and very memorable; sharp citrusy notes (clary sage, bergamot and lime with its sharp yet lightly sweet profile) meet the unique aroma of myrtle, but at the very same moment we're buoyed by the deathly pungency of castoreum flowing from the depths. This gives a leather note of impossing character, smoothed thanks to woodier nuances and herbs (thyme mostly). Perhaps this is why Antaeus can justifiably stand as the masculine version of Chanel No.19 and thus finds its lineage in the Chanel portfolio. But whereas No.19 is powdery with a glimpse of flowers, Antaeus is manly as a "French key" and bitter-dark with a somewhat soapy note (which reminds me of chamomille, rose, patchouli and vetiver combined). The woody fusion of patchouli and sandalwood reminds of formidable virile masculines of the same era such as Cartier Santos and Givenchy Gentleman..and yes, Kouros by YSL! What asserts the Chanel's irresistible charm, stopping it from appearing desolate and bone-dry, is the delectable, sweet and decidedly "animalic" (aka animalistically sexy) labdanum and beeswax absolute base; the two materials are pheromone-like, erotically full of vibrancy, full of hushed gropping in the dark. The contradicting enigma of total id in a total class package.
Antaeus seems to have passed through two reformulating periods, as far as my memory serves. The first deducted some of the opening pungency and upped a somewhat aldehydic character in the opening. The second lightened the potency and lasting power, but seems to have re-established some of the arid and distrurbing top note which makes it what it is. It's perfectly good as it is, for now.
Chanel Antaeus SportCologne Scent Description, History & Comparison with Original Antaeus Antaeus SportCologne (1985) came on the heels of the original, making it a "sport vintage" which is an oxymoron to write history with. It's now discontinued for no good reason other than it might have given convulsions to the type of guy who is seeking fragrances tagged as "sporty" because in reality he wants a limp-wristed thing to not offend other guys at the office. Exactly contemporary to Guerlain's exquisite Derby, this old-school fragrance shares some of the latter's facets imbuing the heart with an irresistible pull. Namely the green bitterness of the artemisia, some of the spice (the nutmeg and pepper in Derby become pimento, mace -from which nutmeg is extracted- and pepper in Antaeus Sport), and certainly the woody and leather core. This is an aromatic woody chypre like the original and it packs a punch. While Derby is firmly poised on Perfumed Olympus, Antaeus Sport languishes in limbo due to its unknown status. It's true that Derby is plusher in typical Guerlain style and rather more polished (the way Diorling is super-polished in the feminine leathers stakes), while the Chanel is a bit rough at the edges, but by no means an unworthy contestant.
The two Antaeus verions are clearly related, yet they do persent their differences. The Sport variant is smoother and less herbal than the original Antaeus, with a less dissonant harmony and a more luminous -rather than darkish- trail. It's totally lasting and rich, however, belying its perception as a "lighter" edition. This is seriously good stuff and if you happen upon a bottle someplace (auction, estate sale, back of moving out apothecary) grab it and hold on to it for dear life. On the plus point, since it faced the fate of discontinuation, it profited from having its depths non disfigured and its potency preserved intact.
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