Chanel No.5 Eau Première 2015 edition: fragrance review

Chanel often comes to mind when we talk about festive occasion drenched in champagne, if only because of the reputation of aldehydes being fizzy and sparkling materials (the aldehyde sequence in No.5 is mostly citrusy and waxy, to be honest, though). 

 

Chanel's perfumer, Olivier Polge, taking the baton from his father Jacques, had stated clearly that the legendary perfume of Chanel No 5 Eau de Toilette has no age, yet the newer edition Chanel Eau Première No.5 from 2008 would "effortlessly outshine the original without denying its relevance." The choice of words was not random, it seems. Effortless seems to comprise the very essence (no pun intended) of the bright insouciance of the newer interpretation of the venerable classic.

However great Eau Première from 2008 was, nevertheless, the advancement of tastes meant that it wasn't really appreciated by mass consumers, but only by us, perfumephiles. Logical enough, it followed the well-known formula rather closely. Therefore in 2015, the company revamped it in No.5 Eau Première 2015, in the process liquefying it according to the IFRA regulations, which made an impact around 2012. 

One perfume lover once said, "No5 Eau Première is a gateway perfume to the aldehydic genre. This is a beautiful mix of soft, bright, fizzy, and powdery. Eau Première is Diet No5, about 60% the flavor but still highly pleasing." 

I find myself flirting with a bottle for a long time now because it brings on that girly, lovely, fizzy quality to the fore, most of all. It's not the aliphatic aldehydes' cluster of perfumery materials that made the older versions waxy and clean-soapy; it's the brightness of its facade that belies its being born with a silver spoon in its mouth. It reminds me of New Year's Day mornings sipping champagne and eating eggs Benedict at a posh hotel dining room after a night out dancing. It's festive, dazzlingly bright, ethereal, and with its hopes for the best risen to their apex. The balancing act of the fragrance lies in judging how the citrusy freshness extends and rejuvenates the rose in the heart; there's a delicate, wisp-like chord of citrus and rose. What has kept me then from owning a bottle? Poor performance, mostly, as I have mentioned in an article I wrote "Eau Couture for Chanel No.5 L'Eau". Yet it smells good and puts good-natured charm in one's mien. 

There's a time and place for that, too, and champagne bubbly for January of a new year could not meet with a more reliable ally. 

 

Careful: the 2008 edition had a tall architectural bottle resembling that of Elixir Sensuel, while the 2015 edition has the classic squared shouldered bottle of No.5. 

Guerlain Meteorites Le Parfum re-issue (2018): fragrance review & comparison with vintage

Tempus fugit and with it tastes change. This is the contemplative conclusion I arrive to from comparing my vintage, original Guerlain Météorites Eau de Toilette (2000) bottle and the re-issued limited edition Météorites Le Parfum (also an eau de toilette) sample I just got. There is no accounting for the huge shift that has happened in the last 18 years and not just at Guerlain. If only by looking upon the chasm between the launch of both I realise I'm getting old; imagine, I had bought the original back then. And undoubtedly a part of my disenchantment with the new has to do with that comparison.

via

The new fragrance bears little relation to the old powdery floral version, although that's not programmatically a bad thing; one has to stay open for modern masterpieces and the polishing of older concepts being elegantly successful after all. Keeping one's self open for pleasant surprises is the essence of youth. In this case nevertheless it makes for a newer scent that's rather limp-wristed, a bit of a wallflower. Don't get me wrong, it's very pretty, but it could never conjure either retro glamour (like the Guerlain Météoritespowder beads themselves do), or nostalgic reminiscences about women in one's past. It's as if a girl is playing with her mock tea set.

Guerlain Météorites Le Parfum is quite the girly scent, upbeat, with a fruity-floral opening that's like apple-scented shampoo dissipating very quickly, and a rosier tint than its predecessor overall. The violet is present, though it feels more like the refreshing violet leaf we come across in scents like L'Eau de Cartier and Goutal's La Violette than sweetened Parma violets; this violet has a rather mineral feel about it and a flanking of clean musk for whisper soft longevity on the skin.

Thierry Wasser succeeded into translating the retro vintage vibe of the beloved Météorites powder pearls into a contemporary soft clean fragrance and in that no one can't fault him. Indeed the re-issue of Météorites Le Parfum feels like a composition which would equally make the scent of a posh shampoo, which is half the market right now. It's no coincidence that it's accompanying a seasonal makeup collection; it feels a bit of a prop rather than a mainstay in the line.
It's very pretty and very safe, people that feel chocked by powder would probably get lots of mileage out of it, wearing it in the office and on afternoon shopping sprees. People who would expect the heliotrope-violet powder that characterises some of the classic compositions of the historic house, such as Apres l'Ondee and L'Heure Bleue, on the other hand, will be rather let down. Which is rather odd considering Guerlain is well aware that the powdery sweetness of its classics is covetable, judging by their Secrets de Sophie and various incarnations...But it's all down to the times they're a-changin' I guess.

The re-issue of Guerlain's Météorites Le Parfum eau de toilette (2018) is at the time of writing available at Neiman Marcus, the Guerlain boutique at Las Vegas and Place Vendome Haute Parfumerie online.

Related reading on Perfume Shrine:

Top Violet Fragrances by Type
Powdery and Dry Fragrances: Definition and Materials
Parfums Lingerie: Intimate Femininity

Acqua di Parma Acqua Nobile Rosa: fragrance review & giveaway

It's pink! 

This exclamation can be taken two distinct ways. It either beckons lovers of all stuff girly

or it scares hardcore perfumephiles with their anticipated suspicion hardened through years of insipid fruity florals that would be better used as shampoo. Thankfully Acqua Nobile Rosa isn't either too fluff, nor a fruity floral. It's a pure, crystalline, airy wisp of a scent, as ethereal as wind chimes heard through an early morning breeze.

With Acqua di Parma issuing a newer interpretation of their previous Rosa Nobile in their Acqua Nobile line of scents one might expect a rehashing of the same formula, only turned lighter. But in fact Acqua Nobile Rosa is a new composition, certainly more ethereal, yet managing to differentiate itself enough to warrant testing both.

Rosa Nobile is a cool and straight-up rose petals fragrance, a ballet slipper of a smell rather than an exuberant Nahema (Guerlain) red Jimmy Choo pump or a moiré slingback in the fruity green style of Sa Majeste la Rose (Serge Lutens). It's not retro, but it's not bastardized either, the way some of my favorite rose fragrances are, i.e. sprinkled with loukhoum rosewater (Mohur extrait), dense with spice and patchouli (Aromatics Elixir, Voleur de Roses) or plain resinous goddess-like (Caron's Parfum Sacre). It's never easy making a true rose scent, so Rosa Nobile is not unworthy of mentioning as a relative success, especially given how jammy the pure absolute of rose can smell.

Acqua Nobile Rosa on the other hand is more like the air floating above a rose bush, with a perceptible citrus and blackcurrant tinge, tart and a little bit tangy. Blackcurrant buds have an illustrious and infamous history in perfumery, what with them being used to great aplomb in First by Van Cleef & Arpels (where they open the scene to the animalic smelling background beneath the posh French style perfume) and their ammoniac feel reminiscent of a kitty cat. 

But do not fear. It's pink. How wrong could it go? 

The airy, electrical buzzing (i.e. freesia) but prolonged -thanks to large musk molecules- drydown is very soft, lightly powdery (a hint of makeup aroma), lightly sweet and the rose is retained throughout; it's as if one is catching the whiff of a rose garden next door rather than hiding one's nose amidst the bushes. I'm OK with that.

Capturing the serene beauty of a stroll in an Italian rose garden, Acqua Nobile Rosa Eau de Toilette is a radiant fragrance for women. This sparkling Eau de Toilette focuses on the lighter, brighter aspects of the rose garden with notes of mandarin, blackcurrant, rose and ambergris. A veritable symphony of enchanting accords capturing both the vibrant and ethereal facets of the Italian Centifolia Rose, famed for its incomparable beauty. 

Fragrance notes for Acqua Nobile Rosa by Acqua di Parma:

Top: Bergamot, Mandarin, Blackcurrant

Heart: Damask rose, Centifolia rose, Cyclamen, Freesia

Base: Ambergris, Musk

Related reading on Perfume Shrine:

Top Rose Scented Fragrances & Products

Everything's coming up roses: how rose is on trend again

My Troubles with Rose & Overcoming Them One Step at a Time

I have a full bottle of this from which a 5ml decant has been taken for a lucky reader. 
Please enter a comment below this post to enter. Draw is open internationally and closes on Sunday 5th midnight. 

In the interests of full disclosure I got this through a PR promo. 

Guerlain's Mademoiselle Guerlain: fragrance commentary with photos

It may have come as no surprise that the latest addition to the Les Parisiennes boutique perfume collection by the historic house of Guerlain is called Mademoiselle Guerlain. Shades of Chanel (who was called Mademoiselle by everyone who knew her and whose Coco Mademoiselle fragrance is a huge best-seller) not withstanding, Guerlain injects a certain playfulness to the more "savvy" requiring boutique collection, clearly aimed at a consumer not burdened with the heritage of the vintage Guerlain perfume classics.

One has to wonder about who exactly is the regular customer of Les Parisiennes limited distribution line. Just look at the bright colors of the bottle juice in the latest additions. If I'm to pronounce a quick assessment on that score, I'd guess the Meteorites makeup customer would be especially attuned to the following color scheme...It's girly and upbeat and very "feminine" in the most traditional sense possible.

Mademoiselle Guerlain, a green floral fragrance composed by perfumer Thierry Wasser plays with the sweetness of marshmallow, the freshness of orange blossom and the softness of white musk. It also includes notes of orris, galbanum and a leather "accord", none of which are especially pronounced though they give a certain depth beyond the average teeny-bopper fruity scent out there.

Actually as reported earlier on these pages, Mademoiselle Guerlain is a re-edition of La Petite Robe Noire model 2, packaged in a more haute de gamme presentation, fetching the requisite higher price in its wake (a practice not unheard of at Guerlain in late years).  As you can see in the pics Mademoiselle Guerlain is encased in the familiar bee bottles of la maison Guerlain, containing 75ml, side by side with Nuit d'Amour, Mon Precieux Nectar or L'Heure de Nuit. Now available at escapes Guerlain.

Love is in the Air: My Most Romantic Perfumes ~Valentine's Day Countdown part 8

What makes for a romantic perfume? Is it some secret common thread which runs through fragrances making them able to commuovere? Or is it the added subtext we add to them through experience? Every one of us can tell a different tale, but since this is my post let me today recount some of the perfumes which have marked some romantic moments in my life. Come along and share your own in the comments!

The German have a wonderful word, Habseligkeiten, literally the paltry belongings of the almost penniless, but poetically also adjusted to children's prized items. The fascination that simple things, inexpensive things exert upon the impressionable mind of child elevates them to the level of treasures. I was 6, the strange mix of hyper-dynamism in the package of a girly girl, and all the world was a stage. My favorite props were small vials and flacons of scented liquids and pomades. A friend of my mother's had an interesting collection of the latter, all tiled up on the bathroom shelf stacked like alphabetized tins in a 1950s grocery shop. One little roll-on applicator, inviting like a lip gloss (but rather conversely to appearances horribly tasting) hid a small time wonder, Timeless by Avon. Such was my rapture to the contents that the item was deemed suitable to be gifted to my little demanding hands. Timeless is as timeless a scent as its name implies, a friendly yet grown up chypre fragrance, and it was the soundtrack of my elementary school flirting, as smooth and as polished as a woman much senior of me, but somehow it didn't seem too incongruent on a child; it was the discarded experiment (one among many) of an older woman handed down to a kid who obviously prized them and thus rendered them beautiful and rare, rendered them habseligkeiten. 

Although Anais Anais was my first "proper" perfume, the one I was gifted with because I actually asked for it, I don't consider it particularly romantic, because it was something of a "me too" moment in time (Knowing me even slightly, you'd surely guess this was a phase of pre-adolecense since the bulk of my teenager years were spent trying to do everything opposite to everyone else and everyone popular, no doubt in a passive-agressive way to mark my own territory and carve out my identity). Rather Opium by YSL, which I got with my pocket money after being impressed with it at the time-frame when only Timeless remnants could be given to me freely without fear of wasting expensive perfume, served as the "me" fingerprint. This made it romantic enough, in a Nietzschean sort of way. It also served as a flirtatious throw of the glove. Indeed it made a statement and was highly complimented.

Other fragrances came and went. Some remained. Molinard by Molinard, long before it became a "niche" novelty was the love letter of a particularly charismatic guy who captured my heart. Sure, it's a floral (with aldehydic, green and fruity accents to boot) and can one be any more romantic than offering a bouquet of flowers, even if they come in the form of essences captured in a fancy bottle like shiny May beetles caught in a glass jar? It also had a lyrically beautiful bottle: Lalique's design of nude nymphs dancing.

Chanel No.19's drydown has been likened to my naked skin (this followed a romp in the hay). That made it extremely romantic… Guerlain's L'Heure Bleue in the elusive parfum de toilette concentration marked a summer spent rummaging through the city centre for book quotes on a paper I was preparing for Byzantine icons for the university. Its Parisian "blue hour" wistfulness became my own lieder of sunlit mornings, naked feet in gladiator sandals and roomy flowing calico skirts in ivory. It's funny but there was nothing Parisian, nor "blue hour" about it, my tiny miniature lasting as long as the completion of the paper, but filling me with memories of an innocent time, a time when everything seemed possible; that has to be romantic, right? (If you don't shy away from this idea, try also Etro's Messe de Minuit in a similarly incongruent context).

I have many other fragrances in my arsenal. Some have erotic overtones, from the nuzzling soft (Narciso Musc for Her oil parfum in the original version) to the soiled clothes & disheveled hair of intense lovemaking (Musc Koublai Khan, L'Air de Rien, Dzing!) via the rubber-and-talc of a pervert vanilla (Bvlgari Black, VIP Room, Hypnotic Poison). Some have intellectual associations which by way of reflection (and lots of wishful thinking on my part) earn a badge of "borrowed romanticism": Guerlain Mitsouko, which was the scent that tied Anais Nin to her Sapphic love. Doblis by Hermes because it embodies the apex of elegance and soft effortless sensuality; I only wish I were such a smooth operator. Eau d'Hermes is how I'd like to present myself to the world; I share that wish with a famous perfumer, I'm told.
Others still just remind me of times spent with loving company enjoying the new things, the new experiences: Serge Lutens's La Myrrhe (my first bell jar when it launched), Grand Amour and Passion by Annick Goutal, Ramon Monegal Mon Patchouly and Mon Cuir, Malle's Lys Mediterranee….surely there are more.

Whatever the bond that ties everything together (and whether it truly exists or is a figment of my fevered imagination is a moot point) the implication of a romantic perfume weaves a powerful web which entangles us and  influences us long after the remnants on our or our beloved's skin have all but evaporated.

Patricia de Nicolai Rose Oud: fragrance review

Couple two of the most objectionable (to me) materials, the tired by now oud perfumery base and the often stuffy, stifled rose note, and you can bet you have me checking my watch every 2 seconds like I last did when dragged to watch Star Wars episode 2 (I finally zonked out). Yet there are certain roses and certain ouds that manage to hold my interest (and there are many fragrances combing the two, so it's a demanding exercise!). Without being ecstatic, I can vouchsafe that Rose Oud  by Patricia de Nicolai is among the better ouds and simultaneously among the better roses in the market today and if you like any of those materials or the woody floral genre in general you should check it out for yourself: it's perfectly pretty with a side of fog for interest.

jenny packham/lik-usya.tumblr.com

Rose Oud does not differ in approach from the other  winter 2013-2014 "oud" release by the niche French brand, Amber Oud, in taking into stride the oudh trend and mastering it in a way that it becomes putty in dear Patricia's tender paws. The rose is woodied-up, boxed, polished, with the familiar backdrop of two standbys: patchouli and sandalwood (an Indian dream), like a beautiful blossom in a waxy sealed wooden cigar box in a land where tigers lurk and monkeys leap from beneath Bangalore ancient temples.

Delicate fruity aspects emerge out of this rose, with the underpinning of nagarmotha providing a smoky, oily facet the way oil paintings put a thick consistency even to baby pink. Nagarmotha/Cypriol is an interesting material in itself, at once earthy, grassy and smoky, with its own deep aspect that can put dusk on the daintiest girly girl stuff. Rose capitulates; what else can she do? And it's all for the better. There is no retro or potpourri vibe anywhere.

Perfectly able to be shared between the sexes, Rose Oud is another faceted briolette in the jewelry box of de Nicolai's vault, a notch less interesting than Amber Oud (which surprises with its herbal lavender character). Without breaking waves Rose Oud is perfectly nice and attractive and one can't knock that.

Notes for Patricia de Nicolai's Rose Oud:
Top: raspberry, artemisia, osmanthus
Heart: rose, lily of the valley
Base: patchouli, sandalwood, vanilla, musk, castoreum, amber, oud.

Patricia de Nicolai Amber Oud: fragrance review

Patricia de Nicolai is repositioning themselves (the new bottles being one of the hints), if intimations are any indication, and no luxury niche brand today is complete without a generous helping of the infamous oud perfume ingredient. Not that there were any audible borborygmi coming from our collective perfumista stomachs craving oud, but apparently a boy or a girl can never have too much oud; or so the aroma producing companies would make us believe. Amber Oud by de Nicolai however is oud prowling in kitten's paws, so delicate and purring you might be mistaken for thinking there is some problem with the labeling. Because Amber Oud is mostly a glorious aromatic amber fragrance with copious helpings of premium grade lavender fanned on resinous, plush notes of velvet.

via TheOtherAlice/Tumblr

The combination of amber (a 19th century trope resting on labdanum & vanillin) with oud/aloeswood is not unknown to niche or Arabian-inspired perfumes; if only in name, both Diptyque and by Kilian have utilized this blend to good effect (there's also the Rasashi and Arabian Oud brands). The nutty and musty character of the modern oud/aoud/oudh bases with their Band-Aid vibe is very well tempered by a tried & true combination that somewhat sweetens the bitterness of oud and renders it more Westernized and silky to the touch. Tonka bean and lavender is also "a marriage of true minds". This 2 by 4 is played like a quartet that produces a single harmony.



In Patricia de Nicolai's Amber Oud the blast of lavender at the beginning is the dominant force which takes you by surprise and which might make women think this is more men's gear than girly girl stuff. But they need not fear. Gents and ladies alike will appreciate the seamless procession into a balsamic smelling nucleus. The inclusion of sage is beautifully erogenous, recalling human bodies in sweat, cleverly juxtaposed with the washed brightness of the lavender and the camphorous hint of patchouli. Seekers of oud (lured by the name) might feel cheated and there is no eye-catching innovativeness in the formula itself, but de Nicolai is continuing on a path of wearable, presentable, smooth perfumes that have earned her brand a steady following.


Notes for Patricia de Nicolai Amber Oud:
Top: lavender, thyme, sage, artemisia
Heart: cinnamon, saffron, agarwood (oud), Atlas cedar, patchouli, sandalwood
Base: vanilla, tonka bean, styrax, musk, castoreum, amber.

Repetto eau de toilette: fragrance review

Do ballerinas secretly stuff their lithe forms with cherry-pie flavored cupcakes? If models routinely consume tissue paper in order to satiate their hunger, as infamously stated by Australian Vogue ex-editor Kirstie Clemens, I'm willing to believe anything. Powdery woody florals are a direction that is ripe for the picking, judging by recent releases such as Love, Chloe, See by Chloe, Esprit d'Oscar, Burberry Body perfume and the like, but in Repetto the direction is tilting the scales into gourmand  fragrance nuances which seem incongruent with the associations we -involuntarily- make of dancers. Musky roses (with the odd white floral mixed in) with sweet nuances, reminiscent of such girly accessories as lip cosmetics, goose feather down and tutus, date at least as far back as Drole de Rose by L'Artisan Parfumeur (1996). Perhaps what seemed new then looks derivative now, but I wasn't wowed by the newest Repetto fragrance.

Maybe it is that the brand has such an iconic pull that you expect more, more, more. In this case, however, it was a clear case of wanting less, less, less.

via punmiris.com

The cult brand of ballerina shoes the world over is without doubt the French Repetto; not only have they decked everyone from Brigitte Bardot to Vanessa Paradis, they're prized for being as comfortable as wearing nothing on your feet without sacrificing style. Just in the space of last year Repetto has seen an increase of 20%, mainly outside France where the brand is a national standby (the company is also present in 60 countries), which highlights the enthusiastic reception that this classic Gallic brand is enjoying in the domain of luxury and export. Let it be said in passing that Japan is their second biggest market outside France and they're planning on opening a boutique Repetto in Shanghai, China in September 2013.

via meltyfashion.fr

After a spectacular development following the 1999 resurrection of the brand, founded in 1947 by Rose Repetto, costumer to the Opera, Repetto is launching their first feminine fragrance, developed with Interparfums who manage the uber-successful Burberry portfolio alongside many others. The perfumer chosen for the development of the fragrant jus is Olivier Polge, newly officially appointed to Chanel perfumes assisting his father Jacques Polge whose tenure dates since 1978.

"My goal was to create a handmade effect and bring together luxurious and authentic bases, suhc as powdery musky rose, which is the spirit of femininity. The result is a purified formula with essence of rose and vanilla", elaborates Olivier Polge. The fragrance also includes pear, cherry tree flowers and orange blossom notes, underscored by vanilla and amber woods.
The effect is powdery with the characteristic almond "fluffiness" of heliotrope and macaroons (if I were blindfolded and hadn't received info of the launch I would have pegged it as a Ladurée fragrance more than Repetto), soft, sweet with Frambinone, maybe rather heavy if you're sensitive to sweet notes like I am; heavy like an overweight ballerina in the unfair, politically incorrect world of classical dance where teachers are routinely drawing their nails along tender backs to make you stand straight. Could the Repetto-scented ballerina personification survive in that environment? Not if she shed her Dawrinian advantage, she would not...  But the crux of the matter is that Repetto isn't but a ghost of ballet. It is a brand divested of its reality, it's fantasy.

Whereas Michel Almariac chose to instill an inedible element into the scheme of the powdery musky floral in See by Chloe, opting for the bitter sheen of soap, even though the brand could do with sweetness, Polge, armed with his recent experience in La Vie Este Belle, looked into cupcakes. In fact cupcakes are part of the promotion of the fragrance (I kid you not!) In that regard, it sounds like sacrilege but Guerlain presented a better "contemporary taste" perfume with La Petite Robe Noire.

It's not required that wearers of Cabaret by Gres burst out in spontaneous songs by Patachou, but when the incongruence between brand, finished fragrance and market demographic is so diverse you have a fine mess in your hands.

Repetto eau de toilette is presented in eau de toilette concentration (39 euros for a 30ml spray bottle, 79 euros for 80ml), accompanied by a matching body lotion, while the bottle is adorned by a medallion on a pink ribbon like the one in the emblematic Carlota ballerina flat. The fact that the fragrance is inspired by ballet dancing is emphasized by keeping as ambassadress the star dancer Dorothée Gilbert (who claims “Le parfum Repetto a du poids, du charisme”). The signature fragrance hit French counters on Monday July 1st and is set to create buzz in the international market soon after.

Sophisticated, Fresh or Dirty? Three Fragrance Genres

"
It isn’t just the likes of Byredo, L’Artisan or Serge Lutens that are experimenting with perfumes packed with dark mystery, even Christian Dior and Yves Saint Laurent are jumping onto the oud bandwagon with their recent launches. The arguments being offered for this trend are that fragrance has always been divided into two camps: French (floral, girly, sophisticated, subtle) or American (fresh, upfront, clean). But there is a third camp: sexy, dirty, animalistic, darker… And the niche perfume houses have catered to this third camp." [source]

via http://theblacknarcissus.files.wordpress.com

One might even argue that these divides are not so neatly divided as that! In fact the author of the quote, Vir Sanghvi, goes on to mention "dirty" French scents and one he's drawn to himself, Piguet Bandit, which he finds "dirty" even though he notes the French don't ~for what it's worth I don't particularly either. What's more I don't find American fragrances to always be "upfront & clean" either (cue in Youth Dew, Aromatics Elixir etc. )

Additionally, "fresh" seems to have gone through an historical trajectory. I was contemplating this while replying to one of my readers regarding the popularity of fruity notes in fragrances the other day, thinking that as consumers we have removed ourselves from the notion of "fresh" of yore. Back then, in the middle section of the 20th century "fresh" meant soapy scents (full of aldehydes, rose-jasmine and musks) or grooming rituals (the shaving foam impression of a good masculine fougere, the face and body powder dry aura of a mossy fragrance or one rich in aldehydes and musks). Nowadays we have been conditioned to believe that fresh is equivalent to the scent of the products we use in our showers; most shampoos have a fruity aroma (usually peach, berry combinations, grapefruit and green apples). So do shower gels, cleansing products and other paraphernalia of cleaning rituals, be it for body or home use. So "fresh" as a concept has significantly shifted.


 Still, it's fun to contemplate, do these divides help make a distinction between different sensibilities? Are they regionally/culturally founded? Do you find yourself mostly in one camp as opposed to another and why/why not?

Natalie Portman for newest Miss Dior commercial: Revisiting Black Swan & La Dolce Vita

Natalie Portman after becoming the face of the ~recently renamed and revamped~ Miss Dior (previously Cherie) fragrance in a commercial that drew upon every French cliché possible (little black dress, check; pout and sunglasses à la Nouvelle Vague, check; romantic affair in Louis XVI decors, check) is turning now to other inspirations; or rather the people at LVMH do: American ones, such as her hit role in Black Swan, and Italian, as in the classic of classics by Federico Fellini, La Dolce Vita (incidentally the name of another Dior perfume!) There the truly voluptuous (especially as compared to slight Natalie) Anita Ekberg, starring as the Swedish-American actress, is frolicking dramatically in the Fontana di Trevi.

What's up with Dior using every bit of cinema history, especially lately, to promote their products? Are they really that out of new, original ideas? I understand when a movie is making a meta-comment on another movie, such as Under the Tuscan Sun (2003) recreating the frustration of the original actress in another heroine's (Catherine's) frustration with people and things in her own life and her childlike desire to infuse all with fun and love; but in a perfume commercial? That just comes across as lazy...
Natalie is fine on her own, you don't need to turn her into the "copy" of another actress, people!

Besides this "homage" comes as a totally misguided point, in my opinion: The Trevi Fountain scene comes as the apogee of an -at heart-frustrating night between Marcello Mastroyianni and Ekberg, showcasing the realization of Mastroianni being a victim, of searching endlessly for happiness which won't come; not this way at any rate. He idealizes Sylvia, the character played by Ekberg, into what is escaping him; the woman, no, the Woman, the out of reach mystique which would make him happy if only...
But glamorous and passive-agressive to men as this might seem (always a sort of secret fantasy for some women), in La Dolce Vita Sylvia isn't happy either. She howls back at dogs. She gets slapped. When she anoints Marcello, there is a mirror-scene where a parallel with the Virgin Mary is made, another woman thought of being capable to bestow happiness by just being and ending up disappointing the men who put hope in her. The dawn of that night just brings the shattering of hope...
How is this a favorable thought for actually buying a perfume, the premium product of escapism, especially a perfume that stands for girly fun and playfulness, the one which a few short years ago championed stuffing yourself with macaroons, dressing in all colors of the rainbow and bicycling through Paris letting off red balloons ? Is the concept of Miss Dior shifting dramatically, to follow the haughtiness of the new formula itself?

But then, it finally came to me: iconic as the images from the Fontana di Trevi scene may be (not a single soul hasn't seen them printed/uploaded someplace, they're part of our pop culture semiotics), I am willing to be that the viewers who have watched the original Italian film are far fewer...Could it be -horror of horrors- that even some at the creative team haven't really watched the film more carefully? Are they confusing glamour with happiness?

Perhaps I'm overanalyzing and everything is about the image pure and simple without no subtext behind it. According to the Daily Mail:"Standing in the middle of a fountain swathed in a stunning black strapless silk couture gown, the star [Natalie Portman] looked gorgeous and graceful as did several poses for the camera. The new advert is centered around the famous fountain scene from Frederico Fellini 'La Dolce Vita'. With her arm stretched out into the air towards the sky, Natalie looked dramatic and dreamy against the backdrop of the picturesque setting". Right.



pic collage via julesfashion.com

My Troubles with Rose (and Overcoming Them One Step at a Time)

I admit it: It took hard work on my part to appreciate rose for what it is and to familiarize myself with the better grades of rose absolutes and fragrances that highlight this noble material. But let's take things at the top: Why did I have any trouble with rose in the first place? Bad associations is one thing: toilet freshners and dusty pot-pouri left standing for ages have not done much to make rose an appreciated note. But it went deeper than that. 

 
I had always pictured rose lovers as romantic creatures (but a specific type of it that differs from what I embrace) who love interiors dressed in ice-cream pastels, dresses with lots of chiffon and lace in pretty, feminine shades of pinks and salmons, hair up in disheveled buns, leafing through retrospectives of the New York City Ballet. They adore being offered flowers on a first date, get treated to a dinner at a posh restaurant and can watch a rom-com anytime. Their china is patterned with tiny flowers edged in gold, their jewlery is dainty, pretty and vintage girly. They cherish Jane Austin and find the money-related matrimonial wannabe woes of the heroines utterly charming. Perhaps they have been dreaming and planning their wedding ever since they knew how to talk. It recalled instant Victoriana to my mind, even if Austin's more Empire really if we're to be period-appropriate. (Call it typecasting. Call it prejudice, if you prefer, you're probably right anyway).

I am none of those above things, for better or worse: I always prefered the Bronte sisters' dark and gloom, I dress in dramatic black and white (or red!) with bold accents of jewels when the mood strikes, firmly prefer wood & baroque interiors to "pretty" things and detest frou frou in almost everything. My china bears simple platinum meanders on the edge and nothing else and I didn't have a wedding plan in my head until I actually really, really had to. I equate romanticism with gothic literature, strong passions damaging everything in sight and Chopin préludes, preferably visualising the composer coughing up a bloody storm under that damp roof in the Majorca. Not a pretty picture, eh?

So I considered it natural that roses -and rose fragrances that replicate the scent of the flower- didn't hold much appeal on me. And yet, there was definitely rose in several perfumes which I found irresistible from a young age on: Paris by Yves Saint Laurent for one, with its violet-laced delectability, making the rose powdery, soft and tender as a feather or a sweet young mother's embrace. Or et Noir by Caron is full of it. Chanel No.5 also has lots. I had been presented with rose otto from the Bulgarian valley of the roses when in elementary school (gift from a relative who visited) and was hypnotized by the lushness.
I later read all about damascones and damascenones, ingredients which give fruity nuances of apple and plum to roses and a fluorescent glow. I had smelled roses deeply and compared with the differing essence rendered which resembles liqueur or powder or sometimes wine and marvelled on the facets of artichoke peaking! Somerset Maugham had likened rose's splendor to such a poetic concept: "Beauty is an ecstasy; it is as simple as hunger. There is really nothing to be said about it. It is like the perfume of a rose: you can smell it and that is all." I had to explore more...

Of course Sommerset Maugham was English. Does this bear any relation to my quest? Plenty, as you will see.

I also always pegged rose lovers as decidedly Anglo-Saxon, you see (that Liberty style print had no doubt influenced me profoundly, as well as the expression "English rose" for pretty UK ladies), with the corresponding flaxen, auburn or chestnut hair and peaches n'cream complexion under northern lights. What could this "clean", pretty look have to do with my striking black on fair contrast under the blinding Med sun? I admired Guerlain Nahéma, which was more my speed by all accounts, but somehow it seemed too intrusive for what I considered the last bastion of mystery, perfume... I had never actually met a grown woman in my culture who was crazy for roses anyway, nor did I meet anyone else for that matter outside that group who did.

But English and American (and a few Australian) women I got to know were really bent on roses and this made me think. Long and hard. Why is it that such a difference exists? And why are several young women so averse to roses? It is indeed a prefered scent of grannies, who do have a penchant for Victoriana, one assumes because it reminds them of a glamourised time when they saw their own parents as demi-gods. How come Stella by Stella McCartney is such a popular fragrance in the 20-30 age group nevertheless? (This is the same mystery as young women theoretically not liking "powdery scents" and yet going ga-ga for Kenzo Flower or DK Cashmere Mist!) And why is D&G Rose The One targeted to young ones? Francis Kurkdjian has practically built a career upon selling roses to the young, given them his gleaming sheen trademark. Surely they should be enough interest from a significant sector in the market to guarantee houses as the Parfums de Rosine -with its illustrious historical name and its pleiad of variations on the rose- to flourish.

 Alberto Morillas gave me a partial answer to that question when he presented Valentina de Valentino, explaining why the fragrance didn't contain rose even though Valentino himself uses it as a motif a lot: "Honestly, it's not easy to make roses 'young'," he shrugged. "It's a scent often associated with older ladies and jasmine is far younger. And although you do have roses in Italy, it's not really the essence of the country."

So, two factors then: Geographical location (my juvenile hypothesis had some substance after all) and age grouping. I don't know if it's a sign of maturing on my part, as the passage of time has made my stance towards roses more elastic, or really my persistence on overcoming this hesitation; but it could be both. More than a mere matter of chronological age, it might have to do with the maturing process of realizing what one categorically rejected during their teen "angst" years and the "mapping identity" early 20s, one is more lenient on accepting later on.

Therefore apart from the "bastard" roses which I always found intriguing and beguiling despite myself, such as Voleur de Roses by L'Artisan Parfumeur, Rose d'Homme by Parfums de Rosine, Rose Poivrée by The Different Company,  Une Rose Chypree by Tauer perfumes and Epic for Women by Amouage, I began to find myself attracted to sheerer, more tender, less artsy, well, rosier(!) fragrances. After all rose can take on myriad of nuances: from soft and powdery, to childlike and tender, to green with a hint of the dew on the leaves, to nectarous and honeyed and fruity, passionate and full, all the way to dark, angular and gothic.

I discovered the Annick Goutal rose fragrances Rose Absolue, Rose Splendide and Quel Amour, the whimsical little sister to the violet-rose combo of Paris in the charming Drôle de Rose by L'Artisan Parfumeur, the stupendous Lyric by Amouage, the greener and softer nuances in Rose Barbare by Guerlain. Briar Rose by Ineke. F.Malle animalic and "femme" Une Rose. The lovely and very true to a budding rose smell Rose 4 Reines by L'Occitane. The green & citrusy grapefruit tinge of Rose Ikebana in the Hermessences.
It seems have managed to overcome my fear and trepidation (hurray!), studying and playing with this regal blossom that yields such extraordinary results.
And then I come across such a different, iconoclastic take on rose such as the spicy, intense Cinabre by Maria Candida Gentile and I realize nothing's changed really: you can't get the poésie romanesque out of the girl, even if you add some mainstream, expected romance to it.

 And what about you? Is there a perfume note or material which you have been battling with for some time? I'd love to hear your stories!

pics via sansmith/pinterest , linda edmonson/pinterest,sheisfilledwithsecrets.tumblr.com

Tom Ford Private Blend Tuscan Leather: fragrance review

Created in 2007 by perfumers Harry Frémont and Jacques Cavallier for the Tom Ford Private Blend line, Tuscan Leather is an atypical leather fragrance not quite for everyone; leather enthusiasts might find enough quirks and crannies to elaborate on, but still be puzzled by its antithetical, polarising nature.

via stickssn.org

On one hand, the introductory blast of petrol fumes plus red fruits (mainly the tart scent of raspberries) is not exactly conductive to what people have come to expect from luxury leather blends. The expected pipe tobacco-leather upholstery richness with its fruity, bittersweet and whiskey nuances contrasts intellectually with the effect witnessed here. We have also been familiarised with the fuzzy apricot and amaretto-apricot-pits ambience of Lutens's Daim Blond, for a suede-like scent, but the tartness of berries offsets the leathery pungency here rather than mollify it. The leather perfume note in the Tom Ford is rubbery, smoky, like shoe polish and cool tires. If your elegant leather ideal has always been Chanel's Cuir de Russie, Tom Ford proposes a modern take on leather, but with much less vanilla and musks than in Bvlgari's rubbery Black.

On the other hand, pungent but restrained and under specific circumstances even velvety, with a true leathery note like a nubuck handbag fresh off the mending shop, Tuscan Leather is a cross between luxury items, new bucket seats in your new Bentley and furniture polish smeared generously on wooden planks. The leathery nuance by saffron, bittersweet,  fits perfectly. There is even a hemp like note, and I was under the impression I was delusional until I saw The Non Blonde claim the same. The terpenic, pine-like facets, revealing themselves through resinous citrusy elements (frankincense being one), are jarring, instead of airy or citric like in Etro's Gomma. Perhaps even more jarring by the addition of an oud base, a direction in which Montale followed with his Aoud Leather two years later. Perversely, the more the fragrance stays on, the more the raspberry comes through. Trippy!

Essentially linear, Tuscan Leather projects well and lasts average. In a pinch, if you sprayed Givenchy's Hot Couture over a gritty leather armchair, preferably in a newly polished library, you might start getting what this is all about. Butcher on women's skin than on men's but also sweeter in the final whisper, it's a unisex fragrance like all the Tom Ford Private Blends, which demands trying on first. It's not for shy, girly-girl women or men lacking self confidence.

Notes for Tom Ford Private Blend Tuscan Leather:
Raspberry, thyme, saffron, jasmine, olibanum, leather, oud/aoudh/agarwood.

Tom Ford Tuscan Leather is available in 50ml and 100ml bottles (from what I have seen, other Private Blends come in 250ml) of Eau de Parfum in select doors where the Tom Ford Private Blend is sold.

Related reading on Perfume Shrine: Leather Fragrances reviews series, Tom Ford news & reviews

Haydria Perfumery Tainted Love & Harem Girl: fragrance reviews

The Haydria Perfumery is one of those small artisanal brands you probably won't hear of unless you frequent perfume fora and read actual people's views; consequently the perfumers of those brands often twist their inspiration to fit both their own and their customers' base vision, a good thing. A good thing because this is a market segment with pretty sure footing into how perfume used to be before it was put into a compulsory Jenny Craig regime and often very much into what's affectionately termed "hippy stuff" from ma & pa shops (unfortunately more prominent in the USA than in Europe where I am residing). Haydria Perfumery seems to me to unite these two worlds: a vintage-focused pin-up inspired, retro perfumery with glittering, girly stuff reminiscent of the 1950s & 1960s, but also an independent, earthy, oils & musks approach (that's very 60s as well).

Fragrances of the Haydria Perfumery are composed by Hadria Douglas, based in West Hertford CT, USA, customarily presented in liquid perfume (in glass bottles with Swarovski embellishments), solid perfume & compacts and oil form. I tested the oils, which by their own nature present a smoother, softer ambience on skin and therefore sometimes present a lack of structure, but I know many people are mad for oils so it makes sense to offer this concentration. Both fragrances were nice and wearable, if not mind-blowing, just the right thing for that lady you know who appreciates all things soft and purring and sparkling with boudoir promises.

Tainted Love  is said to be "Reminiscent of innocent 50’s love…with a secret! A flirtatious and feminine bouquet of violets, berries and light amber drizzled with honey. The scent to take you back to simpler times".
I was quite taken with this retro, romantic pairing of violet and powder in this perfume oil, I have to admit. The violet is very there, but not your grandma's violet pastilles. There's a clean (white musk) and at the same time lightly salty aspect about the violet, making it subtly woody and not really sweet; just so. I can imagine this delicate and pretty scent on anyone who romanticizes the big balls of the 1950s and fancies themselves in a pink dress with a big corsage and their long hair in luscious curls on naked shoulders. Seamed stockings would be really good too.

Notes for Haydria Perfumery Tainted Love: violets, berries, honey and light amber.

Harem Girl is the most musky and traditionally "erotic" perfume in the Haydria line: "A forbidden, seductive and fiercely feminine fragrance with refined, powdery notes of iris, musk and opoponax veiled with incense. Truly for those with a taste for the exotic!"
Teasingly dabbing this scent on the wrist to entice sounds like what you'd expect from a seductive fragrance, but Harem Girl isn't neither heady nor too musky in that "get down & dirty" way we associate with, well, you know what... It might be because the oil formula opens up the soft aspects of the opoponax and the warm musk and turns it into a lightly sweet, lightly bitterish composite that would be pretty great in enhancing a lovers' play time. The musks used in Haydria's line are tempered, not especially "animalic" and therefore fit for actually wearing on a number of occasions, not just boudoir action, so you could get maximum mileage out of this one. Harem Girl hides a floral element in its oriental core to couple with a light incense veil, a tiny bit smoky, a tiny bit "dusty". Although iris is listed, I didn't especially smell that component; it's sort of powdery, but it's a resinous powdery from the opoponax (and some milky wood note replicating sandalwood?) that is dominant. It actually reminds me more of l'entre deux guerres and its love of Frenchified orientalia than of later pin-ups of the 1940s.

Notes for Haydria Perfumery Harem Girl: powdery iris, musk, opoponax, incense.

Haydria's Etsy Shop is on this link where you can buy the lot at very affordable prices.

The rest of the Haydria line includes:

• Bernie! : gardenia, jasmine and sandalwood accented with soft exotic notes 
• Burlesque Blue has notes of myrrh, sandalwood and plum cascaded over a cool undercurrent of exotic Eastern flowers
• My Geisha has notes of green tea, orange blossom, white flowers and musk
• Gypsy Queen with lush florals and rich spices smoldering with deep wood notes
• L'Eau Exotique features aquatic notes, Asian champa flowers and sandalwood
• Pure Sin has passion fruit, champagne, dark chocolate and white musk.

In the interests of disclosure, I was sent samples directly from the perfumer.

J'Adore Dior new 2011 commercial: An Unimaginative Concept

I am coming back after a brief comment on the teaser of the new film for Dior's J'Adore filmed exclusively in the 'Galerie des Glaces' at the 'Château de Versailles' and after my lukewarm reception of another anticipated commercial (Trésor Midnight Rose for Lancôme with Emma Watson). In the complete film for Dior, Charlize Theron struts once more in a gold dress (what else is new?), this time down the catwalk, being utterly gorgeous (of course, we knew that already since 2004 when she debuted as the face of the J'Adore Dior fragrance and weird thing...being greeted by kiss, gaze or envious greediness successively by Grace Kelly, Marlene Dietrich & Marilyn Monroe!

Of the three Kelly looks like she was literally "cut out" from To Catch a Thief being the most convincing (she was digitally added after all), Marlene looks like an impersonator in the familiar cheekbones-to-slice-cheese-with & stockings-under-a-jacket routine, while Marilyn is the poorest of them all in a justifiable punishment for hubris (watch those over-lipglossed lips in that reflective lighting), squeeling J'Adore in girly tones reminiscent of Gentlemen prefer Blondes; wait, though, wasn't she known for her predeliction for Chanel No.5? No matter, Dior (and LVMH who own them) is taking icons right and left and attributing them a penchant for the brand, probably because they can. They're crying for copyrights any chance they get, but they're using icons like there's no tomorrow.Cool, huh?

The weirdest thing though is this perfume commercial has been directed by Jean-Jacques Annaud, a director famous for his grand scale scope, mastery of silence & landscape (watch L'Ours, Quest for Fire, Seven Years in Tibet), his breathtaking, very human love scenes (see Enemy at the Gates, L'Amant, or The Name of the Rose) and the recurring theme of civilization affecting the natural world. I see none of these here, so what was the point of hiring Annaud in the first place in this stage in his career? (He had directed several ad commercials at the end of 1960s and in the 1970s).

In many ways, a disappointment...


The music is "Heavy Cross" by Gossip

Chanel Coco Noir : new fragrance (rumour)

In the context of keeping you up with the latest, we often present fragrance projects by renowned companies before their launch is official. We classify these under "rumour" on Perfume Shrine and accept that the finer points may be swayed this way or that way later on. Today we have news on an upcoming Chanel fragrance! [We have updated with the official confirmation & pics below, scroll down please].

The thinking behind it all
Coco Noir is the official name, which stands for the new flanker to the original Coco fragrance from the 1980s. Coco Mademoiselle proved so popular that another effort in a similar vein might prove a treasure trove. After all since Chanel No.19 found a flanker, renewing the brand, in No.19 Poudré, why not Coco once more? After all, Coco Mademoiselle celebrates a decade on the market and a new addition to the line seems to prove it's considered a modern classic: if sales and promotion/advertising are any indication, it certainly is.

A "Noir"?
The Noir moniker suggests a composition that would depend on mystery, danger, adventure...There are hundreds of "noir" (or "black") fragrances on the market, from classics such as Narcise Noir and Drakkar Noir for men, to modern cults such as Bulgari Black, Japon Noir by Tom Ford, Black Orchid (again by Ford), Back to Black by Kilian, Orris Noir by Ormonde Jayne and Encre Noire by Lalique; or less challenging, tamer offerings such as Bulgari Jasmin Noir, Crystal Noir by Versace, La Petite Robe Noire by Guerlain. There's something for everyone, since noir holds powerful fascination in fragrances for consumers, as we have already discussed in detail.

My money for the next Chanel therefore is on sophisticated notes that are making a come-back in general, such as leather, tarry-phenolic elements, incense, and darker "woods" (not forsaking popular patchouli) with skin-scent musks etc. The concept of calling something "black" is aesthetically a by-word for grown-up and I can't possibly see how girly, frou-frou things (fruity florals, sweet vanillas) could evoke it sufficiently. Unless they've forgotten what they represent at Chanel, which I hope they have not.

EDIT TO ADD: Official confirmation coming from Chanel directly one year later than my original prediction(!): Coco Noir is a new perfume launching on August 14th 2012 in the US and then internationally in September 2012; an oriental poised between the classic spicy oriental Coco and the modern luminous patchouli-laced oriental Coco Mademoiselle. 
[See? I told you I was not bull-shiting you!]

The concept

“Why does all I do become byzantine?” — Gabrielle “Coco” Chanel

The concept of Coco Noir by Chanel is inspired by the past, traveling, the Baroque,Venice at night and the time Coco spent in the mysterious city....the idea of Venetian velvet is a recurring motif. 
The perfume is composed by in-house perfumer Jacques Polge.
"For Coco Noir, I thought of Coco and of Coco Mademoiselle too, because it’s also part of the history. I wanted to continue exploring an entire esthetic range of CHANEL perfumery, a range that distinguishes itself from the Florals, one that is illustrated by Bois-des-Iles and Cuir de Russie. I took it up with Coco. It’s what I like to call the CHANEL Coromandel culture, what you see and feel in her apartment. The night vision of the ‘Orient that starts and ends in Venice’ imposed itself upon me and that is where I wanted to go.”        
~Jacques Polge

Here is the bottle above and the fragrance notes for Coco Noir by Chanel:

Top: grapefruit, bergamot and orange
Heart: jasmine, rose, red geranium, Indonesian patchouli
Base: Brazilian tonka bean, Bourbon vanilla, sandalwood, frankincense and white musk.

Edit to add mini review:

Chanel's Coco Noir is like U2's song When All I Want is You, specifically the lyric "all the promises we break". It is no doubt a fragrance to suit contemporary sensibilities, what those may be, but its woody backdrop with lots of austere, somewhat masculine notes (which is not a bad thing in itself) is betrayed by the obiquitous fruity top which brings a jarring sour, garbage-y nuance. 

Venice by night....the inspiration behind Chanel Coco Noir