Chanel – Allure

While it is often the most likely culprit, reformulation alone is not responsible for changes in the perfumes we love. Something must be said for our own changing perceptions when it comes to our selection of perfumes. While today I swear equal allegiance to several perfume houses, as a young woman I was a Chanel girl through and through.

While seemingly unlikely for a die-hard Cristalle fan, after its release in 1996, Allure and I were inseparable. It was miles away from the lighter, citrus and floral Chanel fragrances I was accustomed to and yet not quite as opulent my mother’s Coco. Allure felt rich and sophisticated, like a camel-colored cashmere sweater worn with a string of pearls. After years of smelling intense orientals like Shalimar, Allure felt like a modern take on the genre, one suitable for a slightly younger generation.

The fragrance’s citrus opening quickly reveals a heart that is both fruity and floral, yet never sweet. As the fragrance develops, it warms and deepens considerably, unfolding into a creamy base of vanilla and woods.  While the EdP is richer and less sharp than the EdT, both possess an exuberant sophistication that always reminded me of Champagne and gold, sparkling, dry and bright.

My fascination with Allure turned into fascination with another scent, and as fate would have it, Allure was left behind for another new love. Ten years later, 2006 found me chasing Chypre Rouge and Jacques Polge’s new line-up for Chanel Les Exclusifs. In the face of this fierce competition, Allure felt scratchy and over-the-top. I would pass it by on the Chanel counter, amused with myself for having been so consumed with it.

Earlier this year, I pulled another old love out of the deepest corners of my perfume closet. I had been craving Dune and had re-stocked my supplies with some lucky finds on eBay. While my dear perfumista may see where this is headed, I still had not. I was in Nordstrom gathering samples when I absent-mindedly sprayed on Allure EdP, for old times sake, if you will. And in a moment of baffled enlightenment, I suddenly realized that Jacques Polge’s creation was a huge nod to its 1991 predecessor. And needless to say, the love affair was rekindled.

Oriental

Notes: Lemon, Bergamot, Mandarin, Peach, Rose, Jasmine, Water Lily, Peony, Magnolia, Orange Blossom, Sandalwood, Vetiver and Vanilla. 

Fath de Fath

While not reaching the mythic status of its predecessor Iris Gris, Fath de Fath, released in 1953 is a lovely green thing of a fragrance, another in the long list of those which has suffered at the hands of reformulation. The Fath fashion house, created and headed by Jacques Fath, was part of the post-WWII triumvirate, which along with Dior and Balmain, paved the way for more feminine women’s fashions after the austerity of wartime attire.

While Fath de Fath is described nearly everywhere as an oriental fragrance, it immediately calls to mind the mossy green fields of the chypres. In fact, it reminds me slightly of Ma Griffe, though with more emphasis on florals than on moss and green spice.

The fragrance opens with lush orange notes that remind me of a softer Idole by Lubin (vintage version) but quickly softens to a golden, floral heart. Fath de Fath is both bold and luminous, with a comfortable sillage that wears fairly close. The fragrance then proceeds to a lovely mossy, animalic base, a throwback to the time when a woman’s scent was not complete without a hint of the body. Looking through photographs of the elegant, ladylike fashions of the time always strikes me. It is as though fragrance was intended to serve as an earthy, corporal counterbalance allowing cosseted and corseted women to let down their proverbial hair.

Unfortunately, I was only able to obtain a tiny bit of Fath de Fath for sampling purposes from a generous fellow perfume collector, but this lovely gem is worth seeking out in its original form.

Jacques Fath and his wife Geneviève Boucher de la Bruyère

Chypre

Notes: Orange, floral and moss notes.