Showing posts sorted by relevance for query what smells French. Sort by date Show all posts
Showing posts sorted by relevance for query what smells French. Sort by date Show all posts

Tuesday, December 12, 2006

Years go by and I'm here still waiting, withering where some snowman was



Today is cold and gloomy. And despite all odds, I feel elated, "a little warm in my heart when I think of winter". The meteorologists have predicted the first snow around the area I live in. Although I know I probably won't see any, as I'd have to drive quite a bit to escape the smog that prevents snow to fall, just the thought of the silent, white blanket craddling our hopes and yearnings is enough to make me dream.
Winter has always been a favourite time for me for reasons beyond logic. It's an instinctive preference, formed at a very early age. As my mother, firm in her belief that children should brace the cold so as to become sturdy (and I did), took me for a stroll as a toddler in bitter cold along the pier, seeing the angry stormy petrol-green sea splash furiously, the wind on my flushed little face, steel skies towering over me, my hands in woolen mittens, candied apples consumed, I felt happy and strangely at home. That was who I am. The joy of returning to a warm house augmented the pleasure already experienced, to be greeted by an adoring father.
Although I am not the person who becomes overjoyed in Christmas for reasons already discussed (much more prefer the Orthodox Easter which is a vastly more mystical and sensual -tied to pagan- celebration in my mind) , winter never fails to make me feel like I was when my feet couldn't touch the ground when I sat on the very armchair I am now sitting cuddling with a good book.
And so perfume should follow. Hence a little list of things that bring to my mind all the joys of winter, of love, of "white horses gone ahead".

Quotes and the title come from the lyrics of the trully great, moving song "Winter" by Tori Amos which you can listen to by clicking on the window above (courtesy of Rasberryswirl on Youtube). You can read the lyrics here

Un Bois Vanille by Serge Lutens
Who else but Serge and Shledrake could come up with a vanilla that is comforting, rich, smooth, deeply woody and never tacky? Vanilla is such an ubiquitous smell, really, which makes it hard to do properly. This is grown up, but with a wink to our childish aspirations.

L by Lolita Lempicka
I had bought a bottle in summer and reviewed it , when it first launched here, but didn't open it for months, relying on samples. Now is the proper time to take the plunge and crack my beautiful bottle open. To me, this is the perfect dark vanilla, with the inclusion of immortelle that adds a salty kiss on warmed skin. Created by Maurice Roucel, responsible for Poison, Musc Ravageur, Farenheit, L'instant and Insolence .

Must by Cartier
Best in pure parfum, Must smoulders and entices, unfolding siren notes of civet and amber anchoring narcissus and mandarin. The unexpected green note of the start has a loose-mouthed effect on the rest of the formula. It highlights it, the way the best conversationalists inspire interest by an unwonted beginning.

Fifi by Fifi Chachnil
From a french lingerie company, this is lacy knickers in dusty antique rose to wear between fluffy blankets, your hair in loose curls. Sweet blond tobacco and citrus notes clash and couple adoringly, a little soapy element with a swoosh of powder, much like Boudoir by Vivien Westwood is constructed, with copious references to the milkiness of Luten's Fumerie Turque. It has a complex character, lighter than Anne Pliska, that was surprising to me and it is definitely complimended by cold weather, as it smells nothing like it should in the heat (hence my delayed appreciation for it).
Thankfully that's one perfume that smells actually better in eau de parfum than parfum/extrait. So, it's also economical!

Muschio e Ambra by L'erbolario
This little italian company makes great products of skincare and perfume and has the most nostalgic labels imaginable; they all seem like they have come out of a paintings index. Muschio e ambra tranlsates as musk and amber and has the delightful smell of aged patchouli and slightly bitter fir resin that stays on your skin for hours on end in the eau de parfum.

24 Faubourg by Hermès
Because after all the orientals one associates with winter, one would want a rich floral to lift the spirits and immerse oneself in their delicacy. This is like the queen of elegance and it veers on floriental. Rich orange blossom on a smooth amber base, sweet but not sacharine. Imagine yourself draped in thick silk and powdered to perfection, your lips painted in a becoming auburn shade to compliment the dark colouring of the juice. Another Maurice Roucel creation. This is the very elegant, classy projection of a lady. Go for the eau de parfum in winter.

Gucci EDP I by Gucci
A nostalgia for great perfumes of the past makes for this thyme, cumin, orange blossom and heliotrope-laced composition that is anchored by vanilla and orris. It smells the way grand dames smelled, but has some air of modernity in there as well, making it a very urban offering for a lady with a hidden side. It proved not to be a big seller for the house, which could be good news (you'll be more unique wearing it) or bad (it will at some point get discontinued), depending on your outlook in life; as with everything else.

Schizm by Ayala Moriel Perfumes
You have probably guessed by now that Ayala's natural perfumes have made an impression on me. Besides her very wintery Fκte d'Hiver her more complex, chypré Schizm is exactly what its name alludes to; the duality of woman: it starts peppery and sharp to segue onto floral notes of which the narcottic tuberose prevails, all bedded down in a country road near a forest, leaves trampled underfoot a campfire smelled at the distance. The official notes are: Black pepper, Cedarwood, Mandarin, Tuberose, Orange Blossom, Jasmine, Oakmoss, Musk notes, Incense

Angel by Thierry Mugler
I am talking about the body cream and not the eau de parfum here. Big vats of nasty chemicals are what many people perceive and yes, I can see why. I am doubtful it contains even one natural ingredient in there. And I know, most of you have either a love-it or hate-it relationship with it, because of its mothballs rolled in toxic caspirene-coumarin aroma of choco-caramel and patchouli. Just try a smidgeon of the body cream. It's all one needs...

Douce Amère by Serge Lutens
Bittersweet, more bitter at first, less so after a while, weird like glue, it transports the soul. A mix of cool and warm, it interpolates various moods, that crystallise in one absinthe-liquor prepared the original way, with vanillic sugar on the spoon and everything.
If one is melancholic but not really sad, this compliments the mood admirably in the colder season.

Pink Sugar by Aquolina
What a glorious candy fair smell that reverts us to childhood all over again? The mega-blast of intense tooth cavity giving sweetness is very intense, so what better time to use just a small bit in the dead of winter? Not to be taken seriously. Caress the inner child!

Essence of John Galliano by Diptyque
The complete antithesis of the above mentioned Pink Sugar, for good measure and to prove the schizophrenic tendencies of Perfume Shrine. Not a proper perfume but a room spray that also comes in a candle. Upon spraying the association with tar and birch is overwhelming, so I suggest decanting in a dab bottle to use on one's hands. (it needs a little distance from your face) Dark, deep smokey incense paired with guaiacwood, evoking mustiness and darkness, serenity and centering all in one, rich like Avignon by Comme des Garcons, but with less of a warm feeling, much in the manner of Etro's Messe de Minuit, albeit more wearable.

Painting by Greek painter Nicolaos Gyzis courtesy of eikastikon

Friday, December 9, 2011

Guerlain Cuir de Russie: fragrance review of a rare vintage

The Russian Leather theme (termed Cuir de Russie due to the invasion of the Francophones into the Russian diplomacy) was very popular at the end of the 19th century. (Refer to our article Cuir de Russie vs. Peau d'Espagne for history and differences between leather themes). Tanning de facto involved less than pleasant smells and tradition in many countries was to further aromatize the end product with fragrant essences to hide the manufacturing process off notes: In Italy they used frangipani (hence gants frangipani), in Spain camphor and ambergris, in France orange blossom, violet, iris and musk were the usual essences prefered. Legend has it that Cuir de Russie as a scentscape was randomly born when a Cossack warrior, galloping across the endless Russian steppe, came up with ‘the idea of rubbing his leather boots with birch bark in order to waterproof them’. Russians tanned their leathers with willows and poplars, as these are common species in the vast steppes. The finishing off involved birch bark oil, which when "cooked" in large pans over an open fire gives a very distinctive odour profile. This is roughly what we have come to describe as "Russian Leather" in perfumery.

This commonplace, rural idea gave rise to perfumes termed Cuir de Russie indeed by L.T Piver, Vonna, Godet, Figuenet, even 4711 or the Russian Leather by Davlin (but forget about Caron's famous Tabac Blond: that one was conceptually different), to results that would capture the imagination of perfumers for the better part of the early 20th century. The most popular and well-known incarnation is undoubtedly Chanel's Cuir de Russie (1924), but Guerlain took the idea and flew with it almost exactly 50 years prior to Coco (in 1875), producing one of the first documented Cuir de Russie fragrance types.

Chanel was inspired by the popularity of Les Ballets Russes in the 1920s and her affair with Russian Grand Duke Dimitri Pavlovich; Guerlain and their perfumer Aimé Guerlain by the military grandeur of all the Russias. At the 1870s Russia was in a pre-revolutionary turmoil, its population booming beyond any expectation (its peasants comprising four fifths of that sum), its military always feared whenever they intervened southerner of their Azov and Don border. Tolstoy was writing Anna Karenina (and publishing in instalments in The Russian Messenger) and War and Peace; both significantly involving military men in the plot. If the French had learned one thing through the recent Franco-Prussian War it was the necessity of building a modern army. Military themes were into the back of people's minds throughout Europe. And, irony of ironies, while the rest of Europe was paying attention to the much needed modernisation proceedings in Imperial Russia, the emerging clan of the Slavophiles was hard at thought on how to return to a simple peasant life!

With this historical  flashback in my mind, I was lucky enough to get some  of the preciously rare old Guerlain perfume through the dedication of an Austrian collector and the fragrance seems to me as the spermatic idea of the leathery backdrop to the quinolines of Guerlain's most classic scent, Shalimar. In fact what I smell is like a cross between Cuir de Russie by Chanel (elegant floralcy upon leather backdrop) and Jicky or Shalimar's drydown (smooth, suede-like, tactile feel, a little smoky).
Even though Cuir de Russie by Guerlain is initially properly bitterish with what seems like herbs, galbanum and oakmoss, with a smoky aspect and not too much tar, the progression veers into a much more supple finish superbly poised between masculine and feminine. The opening notes are folded into the spicy (like carnations), leathery, bitter-almonds facets of styrax resin ~and maybe a hint of the sweetness of Peru balsam as well.
The heart is fanned on jasmine (boosted and "opened" by animalic civet, possibly) and the intermingling with leather is delicious and lush: what I see through Guerlain's Cuir de Russie are purple suede gloves gathering Indian blossoms in the cool evening breeze; a warm wrap upon naked shoulders brushing off long, chandelier earrings while sitting at the dacha; the feel of a firm gloved caress rather than the crack of a military whip...


Visit Mr.Guerlain for great photos of Guerlain bottles
Painting On the Turf by Russian painter Ilya Repin

Tuesday, December 29, 2009

Scented Best of the Best for 2009

The end of the year (and of the decade no less!) usually instills a sense of recapitulation in all of us and why should perfume bloggers be any different? So, in a joint project of numerous bloggers (linked at the bottom), please read what we thought was la crème de la crème of l'art de la parfumerie (the art of perfumery) but also more importantly l'art de vivre (the art of living)!
[Click the highlighted links below for full reviews and articles].

*Best Perfumery Trends in 2009:
The ambergris note treated like skin-chiffon (Prada L'Eau Ambrée)
Greenery via Impressionistic watercolours (A Scent by Issey Miyake, Lauder Jasmine White Moss, Ormonde Jayne Tiare, and Cristalle Eau Verte for Chanel ~although the latter not exactly to my taste)
Ambrette seeds as the new "dry" martini cologne touch (Eau de Gentiane Blanche for Hermès)
Scent performances & exhibitions: Christoph Laudamiel created the fist scent opera. A brave new world indeed!
And may I say "enough with the mythos of oud"? Read the truth about this 2009-defining material (oud/oudh/agarwood) on our article.

*Best in Niche:
A very good year! Lots of worthy contestants for all tastes:
Serge Lutens Fille en Aiguilles : For sunny pine lovers.
Ormonde Jayne Tiare: The perfect crisp green floral chypre!
Andy Tauer Une Rose Chyprée: A decadent rich rose with mossy accents.
Ineke Field Notes from Paris : The gourmand touch in tobacco and orange blossom.
Amouage Epic Woman: Probably the best oudh and rose combo on the market right now.
Hermessences Vanille Galante: If you even remotely consider vanilla, well, "vanilla" (ie. non adventurous, safe, juvenile), give this a try!
Anya's Garden Starflower: A gourmand with guts! Unusual combination, great lasting power for an all-naturals.

*Best Mainstream:
A category which wasn't really stellar this year. Still a few examples I tried fulfilled my criteria, alongside a couple mentioned on the New Perfumery Trends abovie (the Prada, the Miyake, the Lauder...). To try out:
Hermès Eau de Gentiane Blanche
Narciso Rodriguez Essence


*Best Vintage Finds this year & History Write-Ups I enjoyed writing:
Chanel the elusive No.46
Medieval and Rennaisance Perfume Use and Perfumery
Nina Ricci Coeur Joie
Lancôme Kypre
Guerlain Loin de Tout: Guerlain re-copyrighted the defunct name right after our review. Here's hoping!
Germaine Cellier: La Fuite des Heures alongside Elysee 63.84 (review following!) were the crowning of my exploration in this perfumer's opus.

*Best Packaging/Advertising:
Natori by Josie Natori: Simply gorgeous bottle!
Chanel No.5 commercial with Audrey Tautou: The images in No.5's history are blinking and we get an eyefull of romanticism through Jeunet's glance.
La Prairie Life Threads: If only the (middle of the road) scents reflected the sheer beauty of the bottles!

*Best in Home-Scenting:
The new Frederic Malle home-scent line with as much attention given to the composition as in fine fragrances (creators Dominique Ropion, Carlos Benaïm and Sophia Grosjman were enlisted) and innovative media (fleurs mecaniques and scent-emitting incense pads) are the way forward.

*Notable Perfumers for their Excellence in 2009:
~Isabelle Doyenne: Her A.Goutal work ~and the difficult reformulations ahead~, her Les Nez contributions, her wonderful mien; she's a force to be reckoned with! Interview here.
~Sandrine Videault: Her foray into Les Nez with the anthropological and also anthropophagous White Floral Scentoon from the Blue Lagoon (Manoumalia, of course) was launched on the cusp of 2009, but it's included because of its sheer brilliance. Interview here.
~Andy Tauer: Is there a more generous perfumer or one who is more in tune with internet marketing? Not just generous, a genius too!
~Mathilde Laurent's long-awaited resurfacing at Cartier: We thought she had vanished. The lady is back!
~Jean Claude Ellena: In my personal pantheon he is the master of delicate artistry and philosophical exploration. His original work at Hermes this year proves he will go down in history alongside the greats.

*Best Brand Revival:
Grossmith: Three scents that smell natural, rich and positively caught in a time-wrap! Fit for historians comme moi and vintage-lovers alike. Looking forward to what else they will come up with in the future.

*Best Hype:
La Maison Francis Kurkdjian: He's quite talented, all right, but did anyone else get the feeling journalists were lusting over his fine figure too in devoting so much coverage to his new venture (breakthrough though it might be)? Impressive powers of suggestion at the very least.
Runner-up? Discussions on "the art of perfumery" are emerging as The New Black. Time to place the issue on a new level, folks! We're not through yet, but here's a bit to get you started.

*Best scent-related Realisation:
Celebrity scents are not going away. I have finally given up on expecting them to and just let them slide off my back with the occassional sniffing when caught with nothing better to do.

*Best Admission from within the industry:
Serge Lutens solving once and for all the (fake) dilemma of vintage-is-always-better: Admitting ALL scents (you heard this right!) are routinely ~and have always been~ reformulated every couple of years to conform to the regulations imposed by IFRA and legislation. Now you know!

*And an honorary Worst Piece of News:
The discontinuation of Guerlain's Attrape Coeur which we brought to you through these pages. It merits its place in the Best of 2009 though, because the mere asking for confirmation made artistic director Sylvaine Delacourte request an immediate board meeting at Guerlain! We feel vindicated: the perfume community (us) is being heard!

*Best Perfume Term Coined this year:
"Bootichouli" by indie perfumer Armando Martinez for the (dream-like; nay, Utopian) upcoming emergence of animalic chypres featuring civet and patchouli instead of the current "sanitized" ones. (Read all about it here). Could Sarah Jessica Parker with her upcoming "body odour" scent be on the cusp of something? See Best Realisation above.

*Best Inexpensive Finds (beauty & scent-related):
Diptyque Opopanax room spray: It's super economical (ml per ml), lasts well, can be sprayed on air, skin or fabric, has the best aspects of vintage Shalimar. What's not to like? Just grab it!
Nivea Teint Delight gel foundation: I believe this hasn't hit the US (yet). It's simply a pleasure to use for normal skins with no major concerns, very sheer like tinted moisturiser and feels like nothing on as it's water-based. Plus available in 6 shades. Not that my Chanel Vitalumiere is feeling jealous yet, but it's got its place in my stash, probably for summer. And it has a "fresh" smell too (might be a con for some, though).
Crazy Libellule & the Poppies Musk & Patchouli stick solid perfume. A simple "sent bon" (smells good) which is subtle, sensuous and nuzzingly warm. Does anyone know of a liquid alcohol-based equivalent? I'm smitten!

*Best Light Reading:
What French Women Know by Debra Ollivier. The eternal divide between American and French ideals, seen through the (witty & perceptive) gaze of a US-expatriate married to a Frenchman. Guilty pleasure.

*Best Gift I Got:
A Kindle. I rest my case...

What were YOUR favourite finds this year?

More participating blogs on these links, please don't forget to visit:
Mossy Loomings,1000fragrances, Smelly Blog, Bittergrace Notes, Shoes-cake-perfume,
Eiderdown Press Journal, Scent Hive, Olfactarama, Roxana's Illuminated Journal,
A Rose Beyond the Thames, The Non Blonde, Notes from the Ledge, I smell therefore I am,
Under the Cupola, All I am a Redhead, Perfume In Progress, Savvy Thinker

Pics via marieclaire, meblogging.com, profumiaromi.blogspot.com, laurenmechling.com

Thursday, June 9, 2011

3 Eaux by Lancome: O, O d'Azur & O de l'Orangerie: Fragrance Reviews & Comparison

If you're among those who judge fragrance by its colour as to what to expect smellwise, you're going to be misdirected by the Lancome fragrances trio this summer. Lancôme crowds its counters with three "new" releases: Ô, Ô d'Azur and Ô de l'Orangerie. All three are comprised by the popular-again-concept of a light, chilled "eau" for summer freshening up, but with a new ethereal execution and less of the sscreetchy feel of the 1990s. Of those three, Ô is not new at all: It's a reissue of the classic Ô de Lancôme, reviewed on Perfume Shrine a while ago and still retaining its gorgeous green shade.The other two inadvertedly manage to confuse the customer with their added tint: Ô d'Azur, last summer's edition still circulating, is coloured a fetching light beige, when the name (Blue Water) would suggest otherwise! Ô de l'Orangerie (Orange Grove Water) is coloured a nice, diaphanous celadon, when common wisdom would forsee a yellow tinge, as befits an orange blossom scent! But Pantone scale choices aside, all cater to a laid-back approach to personal scent for the warmer months of the year, with the classic being undoubtedly the best of the three.



Ô de Lancôme falls under familiar concerns: A re-issue is always cause for frantic comparisons among perfume cognoscenti: Is it like it was? Has it been ruined in the process? What happens with restrictions necessitating a slimming course for its body? I am happy to report that Ô de Lancôme hasn't subjected itself to too much Weight Watchers, feeling as crisply green and naturalistically lyrical as it was: Green, like snapped leaves in one's palm, with a citrusy tang which provides an immediate spring on the step, it's no wonder Ô de Lancome, composed by perfumer Robert Gonnon, has been a fresh, bring-on-the-changes scent since its embracement of the revolutionary youths of the 1970s. The re-issue is perhaps a bit attenuated in the final stages of the drydown, gaining the character of a light floral instead of a mossier chypre-like ambience, in tandem with the latest reformulation which happened in the late 1990s, but it's still very good; its execution of transparency without losing substance is akin to that in Bulgari's Eau Parfumee au The Vert. If you liked Lauder's citrusy Pure White Linen Light Breeze a couple of summers ago (this year's Lauder citrus is Bronze Goddess Soleil which you can find reviewed here), you are also advised to try this re-issue: they share the musk aspect under the citrus greenery.

In the newest Ô de l'Orangerie the classic Eau de Cologne mould is most perceived, predominant in the top stages, vibrant, refreshing, snapping with brio.The classic pairing of a bergamot top with light herbal notes and lavender is the combination that evokes cleaning up, splashing on a feel good fragrance to feel "bien dans sa peau", the French expression to denote feeling good about one's self. The concept is great, which is why it has withheld for centuries, but the problem has always been how to extend the duration on skin; traditional perfumers solved part of the problem with using alcohol tinctured with ambergris or musk: a smidge gives a little tenacity so top notes do not evaporate instantly, though too much would completely overshadow the delicate effluvium. Modern perfumers, such as in this case, solve the problem with synthetic musks: The composition progresses to a "clean", non indolic orange blossom that reads as "fresh floral", a "clear" jasmine buyoed by musks, benzoin and a tiny bit of cedar (read Iso_E Super). This gives great lasting power and wafting to what would otherwise be a fleeting cologne. It's pretty, but its lack of character means it won't substitute my beloved Fleurs d'Oranger by Lutens any time soon.

Ô d'Azur originally came out in spring 2010, to commemorate 40 years of the introduction ofthe classic green Ô. It is supposed to evoke that fantasy of so many: a Mediterranean summer, all white-washed houses atop bare rock, brilliant in the sun, with the blue waves crushing softly and interminently. It's not an easy task to do and many fail miserably (see Elizabeth Arden Mediterranean which -frankly speaking- smells nothing Med!), usually suffusing everything with an ironfist of Calone (that synthetic "melon" note). Others manage to evoke the ambience, by going about in unusual ways, like with salty florals: see the magnificent Lys Mediterranee by F.Malle. Perfumers Domitille  Bertier and Sophie Labbé didn't do too bad for Lancôme, although the end result does feel a bit of a pastiche. With the hindsight of thousands of aquatics and diaphanous fruity florals on the market, the composition is reminiscent of several things at once. Still, it manages to stand a bit on the upper side of that abysmal depth, the impression of what could have been "elegant" were it fleshed out properly. L'Oréal regretfully doesn't invest the budget to do so. Official notes include: bergamot, lemon, rose, peony, ambrette seed and musk. Ô d'Azur in reality is pretty, built on an indeterminate cyclamen-rose accord with pink pepper on top, layered over "clean" and skin-like musks (ambrette seed among them) that keep a low hum to the fragrance for a long time, although the fruity and floral touches disappear quite soon.It's a no brainer, but its dullness would probably get to you after a while.

Ô, Ô d'Azur and Ô de l'Orangerie by Lancome come in Eau de Toilette concentration (Sizes are 50ml, 75ml and 125ml. For reference 2.5oz retails for $55, available at major department stores). Even though they remind one of summer limited editions, they're not supposed to be: Lancome means to keep them in the line for good. The commercials and advertising images with Lancome face Daria Werbowy are ticket for fantasy, to be sure.

Friday, November 3, 2006

The Wonders of Amber: Perfumery Material of Soft, Oriental Character

Amber is a fit subject to tackle in the colder weather, if only because it's such an enveloping aura it creates. There are many misunderstandings about amber and hopefully we will dispel some of them here. Amber is a difficult term to describe in perfumery, simply because it has so many meanings as a word. Amber has additionally become a rather generic, all encompassing term, resulting in us being able to find all types of oils touted as "amber oil" in the market and sold online.

Essentially, there is no such thing as an amber essential oil. Essential oils are oils from plants in their purest form, distilled or otherwise extracted from a single plant species. Fragrant amber is a combination of several different botanical sources (or in ambergris’s case -which is a completely different material- a product of animal origin, more on which later). There is no one plant from which amber comes from, although some claim it comes from a special tree growing in the Himalayas. This is probably imaginative copy. Fir tree resin, in its regular, non-fossilised form is actually used in perfumery sometimes and offers a rather sweet, warm and deep smell that serves as a base to anchor the other ingredients that are placed on top of this less volatile ingredient. But it's not the usual reference.

The concept of "amber" on the whole is in fact an olfactory convention of the late 19th century and became a perfume "genre" at that time with the invention of vanillin (synthetic vanilla, as known from patisserie to most of us) added to the time-honored use of labdanum. This is for all practical purposes what we refer to as the "amber note": labdanum and vanillin.

"Ambery" is the general term -according to the French system - to describe the perfumes that fall in the oriental group and that have a warm, slightly powdery, erotic, animalic tonality in them ("parfums ambrés"). We could classify Shalimar, Obsession, Must de Cartier or Moschino for women (original) in that category. This doesn't have to do with the actual ingredients, it’s rather a figure of perfumery speech, although of course the perfumes of this category do include "ambery notes".
Please note however that NOT all "orientals" however are "ambery": the opoponax-based or balsamic/resinous fragrances in the Oriental spectrum (Opium or Youth Dew for instance) can eschew significant use of pure "amber bases" (see below for actual ingredients for this) in lieu of other accords within the variety of materials in hand. Simply put, the "oriental group" of fragrances is more encompassing than the "amber orientals".

The following materials do NOT have a relation with "amber" as the term in perfumery is used:

*A sort of "amber oil" comes from the Baltic amber; the fossilized resin from a prehistoric tree called Pinus Succinifera, a pine species. Amber dust is a by-product of the fossil amber industry (which caters for jewels) and the material renders an amber oil through a process called destructive distillation of fossilized amber. The oil yielded contains succinic acid which is useful in health products, however due to its uninviting aroma it’s useless in perfumery. Therefore there is no such thing as "amber fossil" used in perfumery.

*Ambrette seed is another ingredient often mixed up with amber that gives however a musk note in perfumes. Coming from the plant Hibiscus Abelmoschus , the seeds are distilled to give a waxy substance that is then treated with an alkaline medium to give finally the "absolute”. The smell is slightly musky and soft, warm, peachy and snugly; used in many luxury perfumes.

*Ambergris is the legendary ingredient often used in relation to "amber" (as ambra/amber appear shortened sometimes, since ambergris in French means “grey amber”).
Ambergris comes from a cured secretion from sperm whales; the whale secretes a substance to heal its stomach from the scratches of the cuttlefish it swallows when feeding. This gets out through the gastrointestinal system and is left floating on the ocean for years. The floating part is what gives it its characteristic slightly salty and warm , sensuous smell. It is animalic in a subtle way and retains its scent for centuries, just like musk.

So what actually goes into the production of amber and ambery perfumes, you might ask at this point.

The answer is two-fold.

Natural ingredients are used by natural perfumers to create an amber base without actual ambergris (and without synthetic vanillin, as per above), meaning a perfume base that smells warm, erotic and sensual or simply an oil mix.
Usually these include:

1.Labdanum: Cistus labdanum or rockrose is a gum resinoid from the common in the Mediterranean rockrose bush. In the past a long double rake (ladanisterion) was used to comb off the gum from the beards of goats grazing on the bushes, especially in Crete, Greece. It has been used in incense since antiquity. Today the twigs and leaves are boiled to yield the gum. The aroma is the closest thing to real ambergris in the plant kingdom.

2.Benzoin: A secretion of the tree Styrax tonkinense, a tropical asian tree, in the form of tears, which is secreted when the tree is injured. Two varieties exist; Siamese and Sumatran, the former drier and more powdery, the latter sweeter, more caramel like.
Its aroma is sweet and warm and evolves into powdery balsamic.

3.Styrax levant (Liquidamber orientalis): Another resinoid from a tree, it smells a bit like glue with a cinnamon edge. It is important in the creation of amber chords and has a rounding effect.

4.Natural vanilla extract from the Madagascar vanilla orchid can be used. (Perfumers dabbling in synthetics opt for vanillin instead)

Mandy Aftel in her book "Essence and Alchemy" suggests a simple "amber base" made from just three materials for the amateur perfumer: 30 drops of labdanum, 120 drops of benzoin, 6 drops of vanilla.
Usually other accent notes are used in amber chords to differentiate the result and make it unique, ergo the abundance of different "amber oils" in the market. Some of the usual ingredients to do so are vanilla, tonka bean, Peru balsam (sweet ambers), clove, cinnamon, Tolu balsam, sage, juniper (drier ambers), sandalwood, patchouli, olibanum (mysterious ambers), rose, jasmine or other flower essences in very small amount (more floral ambers).

The big perfume manufacturing companies (not the designers or the cosmetics companies who label their name on them, but those who get the “brief” and go in the lab to create them, such as Firmenich, IFF, Givaudan, Roure etc) have patented their own "synthetic ambers" for use in their perfume creations. It goes without saying that in order to find out what your favourite perfume contains you have to find out which company is responsible for its creation. Those "amber bases" (and please note that some lean onto "ambergris") fall into three categories:

1.True ambers: Those include Ambrarome Absolu by Synarome, Ambrogène by Roure, Ambergrissol by IFF, Ambré B.V. by De Laire and Fixateur 404 added to Grisambrol by Firmenich.
2.Ambers from labdanum: Those include Ambreinol and Ambregris Synthetique by Givaudan, Grisambrène by Firmenich, Ambre Synthetique by Naarden.
3.Pseudo amber (which is closer to opopponax resin really): Those include Ambre 53 by de Laire, Ambreine Samuelsom by Firmenich and Ambrène by R.Sondes.

New molecules are developed as we speak. For a modern and extremely popular synthetic that draws upon amber qualities refer to our article on Ambrox/Ambroxan, a woody amber note with great tenacity and diffusion.

The issue of amber is a fascinating one and hopefully some of the more obscure aspects of it have thus been illuminated. It is important to know what is at the core of a fragrance, however it is our nose and limbic system that finally makes the decision for us. So, wishes for a happy amber hunting!


This article used some data from the archives/catalogues of the perfume companies mentioned, Mandy Aftel’s "Essence and Alchemy", Eden Botanicals and Ayala’s "Smelly blog". Thanks to all.

Tuesday, December 22, 2009

Musk Series 2: The Natural and Everything about Synthetic Musks

The beauty of musk's scent is that when you smell it on a person's skin, it's hard to tell where one aroma ends and the other begins. "I can feel you on my skin", says one lover to another...The fascinating subject of musk, its origin, its synthetic replication and the multiple variations, surfaces from time to time when we wonder what is hidden in our favourite fragrances ~and not only...

"Not limited to strong perfumes of questionable taste, musk is in fact the basic ingredient of practically all perfumes, from the most expensive and refined French florals to the sleaziest reek of high school hoochies. Everything in your medicine cabinet contains musk: soaps, shampoos, powders, cosmetics, bath oils, even your toothpaste. It is an ingredient in household cleansers, laundry detergents, insect repellents, and almost every other commercial product that requires fragrance - including food. Does the label say "artificially flavored?" Musk is added to fruit flavors, vanilla, chocolates, licorice, hard candy, chewing gum..."[1]

So where do these musks come from and what are synthetic/white musks?

Short History of Musk Use
Musk is the essence coming from a glandular secretion of the male Tibetan musk deer (Moschus moschiferus L), considered an aphrodisiac (as well as a spiritual fragrance in the Muslim world) in the past. It also fixes and balances a composition , refining it in the most plesasurable and sensuous way and allowing floral and resinous ingredients to flourish in it. Its first historical appearence is in the 5th century BC when it is mentioned in the Talmud (Brachot 43.) as an animal-based fragrance. Despite mentions of the supreme smell of the panther, the creature with the most divine scent imagineable according to the ancient Greeks, no reference per se is made in classical antiquity. In the 6th-century Greek explorer Cosmas Indicopleustes references it as a raw material of Indian origin. It took the Arabs and Byzantine perfume makers for it to rise as an aphrodisiac especiall during the height of the Abbasid Empire. The spice and silk route soon took the aromatic essence aboard and the string of languages that reprised the Sanskrit muṣká (denoting testicle, the source of the musk pod) ~via Middle Persian mušk, Late Greek μόσχος (moschos), Late Latin muscus, Middle French musc and all the way into Middle English muske~ is a journey into its aromatic signposts. In the 1970s musks soared: "In response to the "back-to-nature" ethos of the hippie movement, American perfumers on both coasts sought alternatives to traditional French perfumes. Around 1970, both The Body Shop* in Berkeley, CA, and Kiehl's in New York City introduced single-note "essential oil" fragrances". [2]

*In 1987 The Body Shop was taken over by a huge English firm of the same name, taking over the Musk oil that was synthesized in the 1970s and re-introducing it as White Musk, which is comprised of Galaxolide (7,7%), Tonalide (1,6%) a little Cashmeran (0,1%)for a total of 9.4% of white musks.

Origin and Scent of Natural Deer Musk
The musk deer (moschus moschiferus) is a small, inofensive creature living in Pakistan, India, Tibet, China, Siberia and Mongolia and only the mature male can produce musky odour in rutting season. The best quality musk used to come from Tibet (Tonquin/Tonkin musk) and China, while products from India and Siberia were considered of inferior quality. The practice of extracting the musk pods from the deer however is very difficult, as they're close to the testicles of the animal, and becomes fatally cruel (a kilo of musk necessitated the loss of between 30 to 50 deer), rendering the practice nowadays extinct. (According to Christopher Brosius however , there are currently ways of extracting it without harming the deer being examined ,which could bring back the practice of using real musk). The precious pods (worth twice their weight in gold) were dried in the sun, on hot stones, or by putting them in hot oil. The resulting black granular "musk grain" is used in alcoholic dilution, called tincture.
Natural musk in its raw state is pungent, with a strong pervasive urinous (ammoniac) smell that borders on the somewhat fecal and needs storage and considerable dilution for it to unfold all its potential. Still, The cultural perception of musk varies significantly, often swayed by the smeller's twisted impression of what they are smelling, as discussed in our Musk Series Part 1. Most common descriptors state animalic, earthy and woody notes or baby's skin scent, yet when perfumers talk about musk they refer to muscone, the very core of the musk essence devoid of the other ingredients that are included in natural musk (such as ammonia, cholesterol and animalic compounds with resinous odoriferous characteristics).

Other Natural Sources of Musk
The matter is further complicated by the reference of musk in relation to other animals from which glandular substastances are exracted: Ondatra zibethicus, the muskrat (ondantra zibethicus) a rodent, the Musk Duck (Biziura lobata), the muskox, the musk shrew, the musk beetle (Aromia moschata), African Civet (Civettictis civetta), the musk turtle, the alligator of Central America, and often people refer to the animalics of civet cats (civettictis civetta) or castoreum from beavers as animals' musk, further confusing the terms (those last two animals produce animal substances that have different odour profiles). Even a particular type of alligator emits a musky secretion, but it proved to be non-functional for this type of odour aim as it is mainly rosy.

Some plants also have musky smelling compounds, usually of a lactonic macrocyclic nature, such as Angelica archangelica (containing 12-methyl-13-tridecanolide and Exaltolide) or Abelmoschus moschatus (ambrette seeds) produce musky smelling macrocyclic lactonic compounds which enrich fragrant compositions and are a handy if expensive resource for niche and natural perfumers. The former is amply explored in Angeliques sous la Pluie by Jean Claude Ellena for F.Malle. The latter is highlighted in Chanel Les Exclusifs No.18 and Musc Nomade by Annick Goutal. Other sources include musk flower (Mimulus moschatus), and muskwood (Olearia argophylla), to a much smaller degree. Even galbanum, a bitter green grass not usually associated with milky sweet musky smells, contains musk components (14-pentadecanolide and 15-hexadecanolide).
Interestingly, animal derived musks are all ketones, while plant-derived musks are large-ringed lactones.

The Rise of Synthetic Musks: History and Classification
Musk deers became a protected endangered species by the Convention on the International Trade in Endangered Species of Wild Flora and Fauna (CITES) in 1979, rendering natural musk almost obsolete in perfumery (The erratic quantities used by a handful of perfumers come from either old stock ~musk only gains in complexity with storage and doesn't lose its aroma for centuries~ or illegal poaching). Therefore all musk used in perfumery today is synthetic apart from only a handful exceptions which are usually small artisanal perfumers (who are often not at liberty to be open about it due to ethical concerns from consumers).
Although "white musk" is a prevalent epithet used as a blanket-term, the reality is somewhat more complex. The high cost and scarcity of natural musk had always been a concern for the fragrance industry and it was a happy accidental discovery when in 1888, Baur discovered the nitromusks. He had actually been working on explosives, hence the "nitro" prefix, when he discovered that the molecules actually smelled nice: the warm, sweet ambience recalled the scent of muscone. The first nitromusk was thus baptized Musk Bauer in honour of this occurence and a frantic exploration of these aromatic molecules started with the aim of replicating the elusive smell of natural musk. Follow-up nitro-musks, notably musk ketone and musk xylene, are rich, expansive-smelling and very warm; they can be savoured in vintage extraits and colognes, notably in Chanel No.5 (at a staggering 10% concentration) where they shine with their come-hither whisper. Later developments effectuated different kinds of musks.
Synthetic musks can be therefore divided into three major classes — aromatic nitro musks, polycyclic musk compounds, and macrocyclic musk compounds. The first two groups have broad uses in industry ranging from cosmetics to detergents but their continuous presence in human tissue and environmental samples coupled with carcinogenic properties has created concern resulting in a ban or reduction of their use in most countries. Macrocyclic musk compounds are generally considered safer and have replaced the nitro-musks (abandonded since the early 80s) and slowly phasing out the polycyclics. For those concerned with the dangers, WWF has an interesting article downloadable as PDF on this link. (primarily against musk ketone, musk xylene ~both nitromusks~ and polycyclics)
Synthetic musks are essential in modern perfumery forming the base note of most perfume formulae.



  • Nitro-musks
Albert Baur came up with the first synthetic musk in 1888 by condensing toluene with isobutyl bromide in the presence of aluminium chloride, and nitrating the product, the process a collateral effect of trying for a more effective form of trinitrotoluene (TNT). The odour of this first nitro musk, Musk Baur or Tonquinol, depends upon the symmetry of the three nitro groups. Following Musk Baur, he developed another three synthetics: Musk Xylene, Musk Ketone (beautifully animalistic in the base of vintage Chanel No.5) and Musk Ambrette, which dominated in perfumery for the next 50 years. L'Air du Temps by Nina Ricci beautifully juxtaposes the warmth of musk ambrette with sunny salicylates and the piquancy of spicy notes (eugenol-isoeuegenol). Another nitro-musk that is less popular is Moskene.


  • Polycyclic musks
Polycyclic musks are thus named due to the presence of more than one ring in the molecular structure and their popularity rose after WWII and the discovery of ambral (a non-nitro musk), when the photo-toxicity and molecular instability in alkline media of nitromusks became a concern, necessitating the removal of the nitro group. Givaudan, the aromachemicals company, thus managed to created Phantolidein 1951 via Kurt Fuchs; it was a less potent molecule, but very stable and suitable to use in detergents (musks are hydrophobic, thus rendering them supreme candidates for laundry detergent products, as they don't wash off). Further development resulted in Galaxolide (HHCB), perhaps the most popular synthetic musk in the polycyclic group, as well as Celestolide (or Crysolide), Fixolide, and Tonalide (Musk Plus, AHTN). Galaxolide from IFF has a clean, but also musky flowery-woody odour with a sweet, powdery nuance. It was first synthesized in 1965, gaining popularity in dosages up to 40% in fabric softeners such as Comfort and Soflan and in detergents like Coral at 27 by the end of the decade. Fine fragrances didn't escape its intrusion, for instance Trésor by Sophia Grosjsman for Lancôme with its 21,4% of Galaxolide. Its powdery, starched-cottons feel is exploited to memorable effect along with aldehydes in the original White Linen by E.Lauder (at 20% concentration) and it even enters Caron's incense-y Parfum Sacre! It's also in 13% concentration in Ralph by Ralph Lauren. Indeed the most widely used "clean musk" in the industry is a simple combination of Galaxolide and Adoxal.
However apart from hydrophibic, polycyclics are also lipophilic, as was first discovered in the early 1990s, building up in the bodies of humans and wildlife over time (Daughton 1999).
Traesolide is another synthetic polycyclic musk used as a fragrance ingredient in a variety of consumer products, including soaps, perfumes, and cosmetics and even though Traseolide is not as commonly used as other polycyclics, such as Galaxolide and Tonalide, it has been detected in breast milk, adipose tissue, and blood in humans (Rimkus 1996; TNO 2004; Duedahl-Olesen 2005). They're being steadily replaced by newer molecules.



  • Macrocyclic musks
Macrocyclic musks are a class of synthetics consisting of a single ring composed of more than 6 carbons (often 10-15) and amongst artificial musk they most resemble the primary odoriferous compound from Tonkin musk, Muscone, with fewer environmental and health concerns so far. They also generally considered expensive ingredients, used in quality products. The synthesis of muscone only became possible in 1926 by Leopold Ruzicka, but until the late 1990s the difficult process and subsequent high price made it unpopular. Interstingly 50% of the general population are anosmic (unable to smell) to macrocyclic musks, because they have an exceptionally high molecular weight! So if someone can smell the musk in your fragrance but you cannot, consider the chance you're anosmic to the macrocyclics in it. Therefore perfumers often utilize a cocktail of musky notes to bypass this problem.
Ethylene brassylate (or Musk T) is a brassilic ester with floral woody facets, commonly used in cosmetics, because it acts as an odour neutraliser to the other chemicals used, as well as in fine fragrance. Notably it is featured in Dove's Cleansing Towelettes, as well as Olay, Cover Girl, Max Factor and The Body Shop foundations.
Globalide (Habanolide) is a metallic smelling, fresh radiant musk: Smell it in Emporio Armani White For Her, coupled with Helvetolide (please see below), where it forms the signature of nose Alberto Morillas in 2001, giving rise to the term "white musk" ~as opposed to the balmy darkness of the prior nitromusks. Or try it in the ultra-popular aldehydic musk Glow by Jennifer Lopez, accenting the fresh white floral components of the formula; the cooly herbal-soapy Cologne by Mugler and the baby-soft"clean" of Clair de Musc by Serge Lutens. It also balances the sweeter calorific elements in Hypnotic Poison by Christian Dior.
Ambrettolide is lightly sweetly-musky, uniquely vegetal with bordeline floral tones possessing exceptional diffusion which comes through from the very top notes through the base of the fragrance! Although it naturally occurs in ambrette seeds (prefered by niche brands or natural perfumers), it is usually synthesized in the lab. Other popular macrocyclics are Thibetolide (Exaltolide) ~more detectable by women than by men~ and Velvione, the latter from "velvet" and "ketone", referencing the velvety softness resembling older nitromusks and famously comprising almost the entirety of Helmut Lang's Velvione cologne formula.

  • Alicyclic musks
Alicyclic musks, are novel musks hailed as the 4th generation and known as cycloakyl ester or linear musks. They were introduced in 1975 via Cyclomusk. Contrary to aromatic (nitro), polycyclic and macrocyclic musks they consist of modified akyl esters. Firmenich first manufactured Helvetolide in large commercial scale in the 1990, its name evocative of Helvetia, aka Switzerland. Its unique fruity facet (nuances of pear along with ambrette) makes it especially congenial to fruity blends which were popularised by the late 1990s. The fruity aspects of some musk compounds were first explored in L'Artisan Parfumeur's Mûre et Musc in the late 1970s backed by blackberry notes and from then on they literally blossomed. Romandolide, another popular Firmenich molecule is an alicyclic musk with more ambrette than fruity facets compared to Helvetolide and close to Galaxolide and was introduced in 2000.

One interesting case is IFF's Allyl Amyl Glycolate (iso-amyl oxyacetic acid allylester), one of my less prefered musk variants (Chandler Burr describes it as “a combination of the smell of processed pineapple and the tin of the can it comes in”), a clear liquid that can be used in any blend. It possesses sharp green facets with a top resembling the bitter touch of galbanum and a sweet pineapple fruity note. First discovered in 1936, it lagged unnoticed until it was popularised via Italian detergents in the late 1960s. Its use in Camay soap made it familiar and thus it entered fine perfumery: Trace amounts can be found in Alliage by E.Lauder while higher doses can be found in Drakkar Noir by Guy Laroche (1%)and Cool Water by Davidoff (3% which is very high for a powerful synthetic such as this). Trésor, Eternity, and Boss Elements Aqua also use it for its harmonization with the greener notes (lily of the valley, violet leaf).

Newer musks are constantly created, often with imaginative and inspiring names.
Nirvanolide, a chemical produced by Givaudan has a clean sweetly powdery and slightly animalic odour close to the restricted older Musk Ketone. You can smell it in the perfume Forever Elizabeth created by David Apel where it is used in 6.7% concentration. Another chemical with an odour close to Musk Ketone is Muscenone, possessing a very elegant and diffusive musk odour.
Firmenich offers two musk blends, Auratouch 911382 and Auranone 911383. The base of these products contains a captive* musk with a berry top note that performs like a polycyclic musk. Auratouch 911382 is a strong layered musk base with a substantive drydown and contains only triethyl citrate as a solvent. Meanwhile, the base of Auranone 911383—a strong substantive musk base with a delicate floral and somewhat animalic character—has strong ambrette connotations and contains no solvents, or polycyclic or nitro musks.
Meanwhile, the base of Auranone 911383 is a subtle but substantitve assemblage of some of Firmenich's finest musks with ambrette and animalic facets, blended with soft floral notes, devoid of polycyclic or nitro musks. Created around Romandolide, the captive alicyclic is paired with Habanolide, Exaltolide Total, Muscenone and Helvetolide to produce a hard-core musk with traces of sandalwood, amber, violet and powdery notes.
Givaudan has two new synthetic musks: Cosmone and Serenolide. Cosmone, is a single molecule the first C14-macrocyclic musk commercially available, which has a nitro-musk character of great warmth and diffusion which blends well with all kinds of accords. This biodegradable molecule, in addition to Nirvanolide, enlarges Givaudan’s range of environmentally friendly macrocyclic musks and can be smelled in Pi Neo by Givenchy (2008). Serenolide is an elegant white musk with sweet fruity connotations providing warm and soft velvety notes that blend well with all kinds of trendy fruity accords.
Musk R1 (originally from Quest International) is an example of an oxa-macrolide with sensual, powdery musky character.

The fascinating world of musks is far from over: We will return with classifications, descriptions and reviews of musky fragrances on the market!

*Captives are molecules which are patented by companies for their exclusive use for a number of years. 

Related reading on Perfume Shrine: Musk Series 1: a Cultural Perception of Musk, Musk Series 3: The Many Permutations of Musk (musk "types")


Ref:
Rowe, David J. (Ed.); Philip Kraft (2004). "Chapter 7. Aroma Chemicals IV: Musks". Chemistry and Technology of Flavours and Fragrances. Blackwell
Charles (Ed.), Sell; Charles Sell (2005).The Chmistry of Fragrances Chapter 4. Ingredients for the Modern Perfumery Industry". Royal Society of Chemistry Publishing.
Robert R. Calkin and J. Stephen Jellinek, Perfumery Practice & Principles
PChirality & Odour PerceptionJohn C. Leffingwell, Ph.D.
Perfume & Flavorist magazine, Musks in Fragrance Blending
Jenny van Veenen Perfume Making
Aromax blog


[1] [2]Epistola S.Fowler: Musk


Painting Lovers by a Tree Mughal, Muhammad Shah period, about 1725 via lokvani.com. Pics via mikndfully.org, Natural Health Crafters, homotography.blogspot.com

Thursday, October 12, 2006

Aucun hussard sur le toit

The title of today’s post ironically alludes to the very good homonymous French filmbased on Jean Giono’s novel “Horseman on the roof”, in which Olivier Martinez as an Italian revolutionary soldier flees into cholera-infested 1832 France to escape the Austrian police and meets Juliette Binoche who is in search of her husband.
The association is not completely random as it might seem at first, since Olivier Martinez is the face of the new masculine perfume of Yves Saint Laurent, L’Homme.
Of French and Spanish-Moroccan descent, previously tagged as the French Brad Pitt and currently beau of Kylie Minogue (the game of associations never ends), Martinez never had a hold on me, looks-wise, I have to admit. He has some sort of hazy aspect in his features and a feminine sensuality in his expression that never enticed me. He must have ]a big fan base nevertheless, being chosen as the face of a prestigious house’s new perfume launch.


Yves Saint Laurent needs no introduction and you who know Perfume Shrine’s views on his couture need even less of a lesson. Suffice to say that Tom Ford was not the best thing to befall this historic house and the worthy Stefano Pilati has a hard job in damage control.


Perfume-wise YSL has always been about maximum luxury, glamour, maturity and powerful images: “we are not messing around here”. From the regality and opulence of Opium to the classy icy demeanor of Rive Gauche vintage and from YSL Pour Homme, a classic scent that screams 70’s featuring a nude Yves (click [[popup:yslpourhommenude.jpg::nude Yves::center:1]] to see) when it launched, to the hairy-chested rugged masculinity of Kouros.
In between there were some less vocal scents, such as Y, a chypre of the noblest qualities, Jazz, a nice men’s scent that deserved a better career at the box office, Paris, the heavy-handed craft of Sophia Grojsman for once providing a pleasant effect among her bestsellers and the controversial fruity chypre Champagne that had the vine culturists up in flames to eventually change the name into Yvresse. In Love again and Opium homme were the last memorable ones to come before Tom Ford stepped in. (Baby Doll is rather adolescent, rendering it impossible to categorise along with the rest).


And then all hell broke loose and the iconic women's Rive Gauche got reformulated! Sacrilege! Simultaneously accompanied by Rive Gauche pour Homme (which people say is good, but the shock of the former was so great I have refrained from properly testing on purpose). At that point the future seemed dimly lit, if not dark already.
But then spicy, incense-laden Nu in Eau de parfum (my preferred concentration) launched and managed to make me forget the sins of the past. And M7 for men, which although it is a challenging composition centered on the precious oudh essence manages to smell completely unique and aristocratic and even scandalized the public with a campaign that brought back masculinity into the mainstream of perfume. Cinéma was nice, if a little unimaginative; the expectations were so high!
Yet, most of the more interesting perfumes suffered a poor career at the counters of department stores. The discrepancy is not lost on us.

L’homme, the first one to come in the meta-Ford era, is trying to cover the lost ground by fusing some floral aspect into the composition and using Olivier Martinez with his flou features as the person who stands in what looks like an empty loft with the camera dancing around him.


The bottle in classic YSL tradition is sturdy, heavy and luxurious without becoming ostentatious (Baby Doll is the kitsch exception in their packaging). However it somehow manages to look a tad unattractive and the reason why is hard to put into words. They say it was inspired by Bauhaus; I think not.


In olfactory speaking terms, this fusion of feminine-masculine is done with the inclusion of violet leaves, which give a similar effect to that rendered by iris in Dior Homme. Dior’s Higher with its floral/fruity overtones is also an example that comes to mind, although the advertising of that one was completely effeminate to begin with.
The head of YSL L’homme, with citrusy overtures of ginger and possibly citrus skin, which are surprisingly not tart enough here, plunges into a heart of spicy basil flower sprinkled with pepper and soon after soft violet leaves follow noiselessly giving an ethereal quality usually not associated with masculine fragrances. The moment you smell this stage you are secretly thinking that this could be a nice summer cologne for a woman, but nothing more breathtaking than that. The base mingles soft non-descript woods, from which austere cedar is listed as the core note, although I do detect some haziness and vanillic warmth that further consolidates the meek character of the wholeLinalool and coumarin look like they take part in this neck of woods, so to speak, with their soft ambience, but I can’t be certain. This is not a musky perfume to be sure, contrary to what one would expect. Sandalwood, tonka bean and vetiver are officially listed.
The whole? Pleasant, young and uplifting no doubt, completely unoriginal however. There were enough of classic-feel men’s colognes as it is; Givenchy pour homme, Eternity for men or Bvlgari Aqua to name but a few.

According to one scientific study women choose a rugged virile man between all available choices at time of ovulation in the subconscious presumption that he provides the strongest genetic material for them to procreate, while they change their preference as soon as they are embarking on a pregnancy opting for the one who looks most secure and dependable to stick around. There is nothing wrong with the second image (although combining the two is ideal, don’t you think?). But if you’re looking at spreading your genes, L’homme is not the appropriate choice. It just smells bland.


The fact that no less than 3 noses (Pierre Wargnye, Anne Flipo and Dominique Ropion) have worked on this one points to some confusion as to what vision existed on this scent. Popular sayings may seem corny, but they do hold some truth I’m afraid, and yes, too many people intermingling on one project make for a poor result more often than not.
Perhaps the challenge was too much, perhaps YSL parfums could not afford another mediocre-seller, especially in the huge American market.
Whatever it is, L’homme did not live up to a perfume lover’s anticipation.
Sadly there is no horseman on the roof...


Next review will be of a new release that proved a pleasant surprise!

Thursday, February 9, 2012

Lancome La Valee Bleue: vintage fragrance review

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.

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