Lubin – Cuir de Russie

Posted on June 5, 2013 by Leah

Lubin – Cuir de Russie

Lubin is one of the oldest perfume houses in continual existence. The company was founded by Pierre Francois Lubin in 1798, when he began creating scented products for members of high society and notoriety alike. Lubin, like Guerlain, was esteemed with recognition from the Imperial Court of the Bonapartes and all the crowned heads of Europe thereafter. The firm was well-known for their perfumes and bottles alike, with flacons designed by Julien Viard and Maurice Depinoix and special, luxury editions from Baccarat. The firm created a strong presence in the United States commencing in the 1830s and were especially well-received in the South where many families traced their origins back to France. The firm remians in existence today and Olivia Giacobetti is the current fragrance designer.

Of the four Cuir de Russie’s reviewed, Lubin’s interpretation of the leather theme is perhaps the most literal. I was fortunate enough to come upon a vintage sample courtesy of a fellow collector. The stopper on the bottle had been stuck for some time, allowing for good preservation of the perfume, which had condensed into an almost syrup-like consistency. After some careful engineering, the bottle finally revealed its beautiful contents.

The perfume’s opening had a medicinal, slightly hesperidic, herbal quality to it, alluding to perhaps some petitgrain and camphor notes. As the initial notes died down, the fragrance had an oily quality to it, reminiscent of fur. Based upon my first impression, I imagined that the perfume was going to be somewhat challening to wear, as it invoked visions of the oily fur of hides being prepared for leather production. Indeed, at first blush, I ascribed this perfume more for intellectual contemplation rather than actual use.

Here however, the fragrance took a distinct turn. The heavy quality of the opening dissipated, leaving just a hint of spice in its wake. What this revealed was the mildest, most realistic and unadorned leather scent of the three. The Lubin Cuir de Russie has neither the rugged, birch-tar bite of the Guerlain, nor the aldehydic florals of the Chanel. It is purely gorgeous, buttery leather, the kind that would be used to make fine gloves for a woman’s hands. As the fragrance dies down, there is a very slight floral quality to it, as though the lovely kid gloves had retained the slightest hint of scent from the wearer’s perfumed wrist.

Having had the good fortune now to sample various vintage Lubins, the house has a singular style to all of its scents which conveys a subtle refinement that is simply intoxicating. Where Guerlain always strikes me as the House of Passion, and Chanel as the House of Beauty, Lubin’s scents possess a quiet intellectualism that I find very appealing in their subtlety. Lubin’s Cuir de Russie is no exception.

Leather

Notes: Hesperidic Notes, Camphor, Fur, Oil, Leather Notes, Floral Notes,

Guerlain – Cuir de Russie

Posted on June 3, 2013 by Leah

Guerlain – Cuir de Russie

Guerlain’s version on the Cuir de Russie theme is the oldest of the fragrances I will review and as such possesses a character which is completely unlike that of its counterparts. In fact, for my nose, Guerlain’s Cuir de Russie is more reminiscent of the tanning process itself than of the leather byproduct.

Guerlain’s Cuir de Russie was developed by Aime Guerlain in 1875. Having first been introduced to the genre by way of Chanel, the opening of Guerlain’s interpretation was somewhat of a shock. The fragrance opens with a distinctly herbacious note which is both powerful and masculine, a sharp contrast to Chanel’s classic aldehydic opening. This intense green and almost medicinal quality gives rise to the richest, smokiest leather I have ever experienced, making it evident that the fragrance was composed long before any restrictions on birch tar came into effect. The impression is of a much more rustic and prerevolutionary “Russia” than either of its 20th century counterparts, which evoke more of a “Russian in Paris” feel. Not so the Guerlain, which reminds me of the thick, rough leather boots of a cossack warrior atop a charging steed in the cold night air.

While the intensity of smoke and leather is prevalent for several hours, making me questions the scent’s intended gender audience, the fragrance does a complete about-face in the drydown, softening into a gorgeously soft floral bouquet. There is a hint of jasmine overlaying the leather which has now receded into the background, deepened by hints of vanilla and animalic notes.

It is this odd interplay between masculine and feminine elements that reveals the true magic of the House of Guerlain. These disparate fragrance themes could not have been carried out by any other perfumer, and yet Guerlain flawlessly melds the two into one, invoking the grandeur of a revolutionary fantasy with the promise of a bright and beautiful future.

143

Smoky Leather

Notes: Herbal Notes, Green Notes, Jasmine, Leather

Cuir de Russie Perfumes

Posted on May 30, 2013 by Leah

Cuir de Russie Perfumes

Igor Stravinksy’s Le Sacre du Printemps (The Rite of Spring) is without question one of the most powerful and groundbreaking pieces of music the world has ever known. Its debut performance caused a near-riot among Parisian theater-goers and indeed it sounds as modern and profound today as ever. With the 100 year anniversary of Le Sacre du Printemps having been yesterday, May 29, 2013, I felt it was an opportune time to explore a unique class of perfumes influenced by the romance and folklore of pre-WWI Russia: Cuir de Russie.

Cuir de Russie or “Russian Leather” perfumes as they are sometimes known, gained considerable popularity in the late 1800s, and even more so in the early 1900s, coinciding with the influx of numerous Russian emigres to Paris. Often referred to as the “White Russians”, many of these individuals came from well-educated and often aristocratic backgrounds, bringing with them a wealth of culture that would have an impact on French society, culture and even fashion. Indeed, Paris in the early part of the 1900s was buzzing from the impact of the Sergei Diaghilev’s Ballets Russes, the choreography of Vaslav Nijinsky and the works of Igor Stravinsky. The introduction of this new and exotic culture was a provocation, one that is reflected in this class of perfumes.

Historically, different cultures had unique processes for treating animals skins in order to produce leather. While the process, known as tanning, could be carried out in a number of different ways, the goal was the same: to create a final byproduct (leather) which was more durable than the natural skin. A traditional Russian method, which may have been employed since as early as the 14th and 15th centuries, involved treating the skins with rectified birch tar which in addition to curing the skins, imparted disinfectant properties. The bark of the birch would undergo several processes to break down the material into a substance which could then be used to treat the leather. The process preserved the longevity of the material and rendered it water-resistent to a degree. Birch tar oil has a distinctive scent – adding a smoky, spicy, sweet and woodsy aroma to the leather – and to the perfumes it would come to be used in.

Today, rectified birch tar oil is used in minute amounts in perfumery, as its use is restricted under IFRA guidelines. Isoquinoline, a material first isolated from coal tar in 1885, is also used to create leather notes and provides a synthetic alternative to birch tar oil. Several perfurmery houses developed their own unique interpretation of the Cuir de Russie theme, including Vonna, Biename and LT Piver. Over this week and next, I will be posting reviews of four different Cuir de Russie perfumes: Guerlain, Chanel, Lubin and LT Piver.

Guerlain – Aqua Allegoria Rosa Magnifica

Posted on May 20, 2013 by Leah

Guerlain – Aqua Allegoria Rosa Magnifica

I recently read somewhere that the fragrances produced by Guerlain should be experienced in reverse order if one is to make any sense of the progression of the perfumes released by this great house. One would start out with the simple and accessible post-LVMH La Petite Robe Noir and Aqua Allegoria series, move on to the more sophisticated yet youthful fragrances created by Jean-Paul Guerlain, graduate to the ground-breaking beauties composed by Jacques and Aime Guerlain, until finally experiencing the creations of Pierre-François-Pascal Guerlain which won the house the honor of being royal supplier to the crown. While I wholeheartedly agree with this assessment (and have been wracking my brain to recall who the inspired genius who penned this was) there are a few newer fragrances released by the house which I have found captivating, in spite of their simplicity.

Some of these are from the Aqua Allegoria line first introduced by Guerlain in 1999 as a series of five scents, with the intention of releasing additional fragrances in the line annually. While there is little mention of Mathilde Laurent’s tenure at Guerlain, reportedly due to a falling out with management, it is no surprise to me that some of the best examples in this series were her creations. The original five releases, Herba Fresca, Lavande Velours, Pamplelune, Ylang & Vanille and Rosa Magnifica, are each inspired creations in their own right, and a wonderful introduction to the magic of Guerlain.

Rosa Magnifica is at once a new fragrance and a recollection of other Guerlain masterpieces. As the name implies, Rosa Magnifica is fragrance built around a rose note, rendered in the softness of an Eau de Toilette. Guerlain has a long history of sourcing the best materials, both natural and synthetic, and while this reputation has suffered in post-LVMH years, the rose at the heart of Rosa Magnifica is a delicious, full-bodied bloom. While die-hard Guerlain lovers will have difficulty avoiding a comparison with Nahema, which is the undisputed champion of roses, Rosa Magnifica is a softer, subtler rendition but not without its own merits. The initial difference is apparent in the opening, which is spicy where Nahema is opulent. As the fragrance develops, I am reminded of another one of Guerlain’s masterpieces, Chamade. Rosa Magnifica features a beautiful hyacinth note, giving the rose a brightness and piquancy that give it a subtle lift. Similar to Chamade’s heavenly drydown, Rosa Magnifica is rendered delicate thanks to the introduction of iris and violet, which give it a soft and slightly powdery quality.

While Nahema remains the ultimate rose and my number one choice in this category, I enjoyed Rosa Magnifica much more than I expected and I love having a softer, more delicate rose option for those occasions that calls for a bit of subtlety. Unfortunately, Rosa Magnifica was discontinued by Guerlain, along with others in the Aqua Allegoria line which did not fare well commercially. I find this to be a real shame, as there are other newer Aqua Allegorias which I could, quite frankly, do without. Thankfully Rosa Magnifica still pops up every now and then on Ebay and is available from various decant services.

Floral

Notes: Rose, hyacinth, iris and violet

Christian Dior – Dune

Posted on May 17, 2013 by Leah

Christian Dior – Dune

An increasingly central focus of modern perfumery is advertising. While advertising in different forms has always been key to promoting perfume to consumers, budgets have increased exponentially in recent years, vastly surpassing the cost of producing the actual perfume. Fragrance houses also use advertising as a means of promoting (or creating) a perfume’s identity, the fantasy we consumers are lulled into buying.

After the impossibly extroverted perfumes of the 1980s, the 1990s shifted the focus to cleaner, lighter, marine-inspired scents. The advertising also seemed equally “sanitized” after the more provocative ads of the 1980s, perhaps in reaction to changing social mores after an era of decadence. Case in point, a comparison of the advertising for Christian Dior’s Dune, which features ethereal beauties and that of its 1985 release Poison, which often featured black-clad and heavily made-up dark beauties. And yet with Dune, despite the serene advertisements depicting blonde beauties lounging on a beach, I am reminded not of a seaside retreat, but of the rippled sand dunes on a distant planet in an imaginary universe created by Frank Herbert.

Dune, published in 1965 and hailed as the world’s best-selling science fiction novel, tells the story of an intergalactic struggle to dominate a single planet, Dune, in order to control the precious substance cultivated there: spice. The spice, ironically named “Melange”, is similar to a narcotic: highly addictive, becoming more so with prolonged use. Spice/Melange is valued above all else for its ability to expand consciousness, prolong life and allow for instantaneous interstellar travel. Paul Atreides and his mother, a member of the Bene Gesserit sisterhood – a group of women with mystical and witchlike powers – relocate to the planet Dune with the mission of overseeing spice production, a difficult and dangerous process, due to the existence of giant sandworms which patrol the planet’s surface, protecting the spice which is formed deep within the planet’s core.

Paul Atreides and his mother, the Lady Jessica

The planet’s local inhabitants, known as Fremen, are greatly impressed by the mystical powers which Paul and his mother possess and believe Paul to be their long-awaited messiah. Paul instinctively knows that the key to power in the universe is directly tied to the control of spice production and befriends the Fremen, learning their survival tactics and teaching them some of the magical powers he has inherited from his mother, the Lady Jessica. The movie, released in 1984, is replete with scenes of Paul leading the Fremen, wearing futuristic black leather suits which protect them from the harsh desert elements and allow them to preserve the water given off by their bodies, which is absolutely vital to life on this dry, arrid planet. The smell of Melange is said to be pervasive and according to one character, its scent “is “never twice the same… It’s like life – it presents a different face each time you take it”.

Paul leading the Fremen

Nothing could more aptly describe Christian Dior’s Dune. While certain fragrances are changeable during the stages of wear, Dune appears to be in a constant state of flux, throwing off different impressions by the second. Created in 1993 by a group of perfumers led by Jean-Louis Sieuzac, Dune is positively otherworldly. It possesses the heat of the desert under the daylight’s scorching sun and the dry quality of its unrelenting winds. And yet it is completely devoid of warmth at the same time, feeling as black and cold as the leather suits worn by the Fremen. Dune’s ability to hover between fragrant realities is nothing short of magic.

Dune opens with a bitter, slightly anisic herbal punch that borders on the masculine, yet quickly fades to reveal a strange floral heart. The fragrance notes are deceptive, as Dune’s flowers have a dry, arrid quality which renders them largely unrecognizable. While peony and jasmine appear to dominate, the slightly green quality of the fragrance at times give me a carrot note. The marine aspect makes its presence felt in a subtle salty quality – the whisper of the winds across the fragrant sands – which kick up individual notes onto the wind. Similar to the Spice Melange, Dune is never the same twice – sometimes bitter and mossy, sometimes musky and floral – and yet always lovely.

While the entire fragrance is discernible from the opening, Dune mellows over time, revealing a hint of vanillic amber rounded by moss and woods. There is a softness to Dune, however, the fragrance is not light – it is like hearing a very powerful and complex orchestra piece played at a very low volume. Like shifting sands, the inconstant nature of Dune makes it a pleasure for some and uncomfortable for others. I personally adore this subtle, changeable aspect of Dune and am always thrilled when someone remembers this lesser known beauty, winner of a 1993 FiFi award.

*As an aside, the one attribute of Dune I find puzzling is its color which is soft and flesh-like, gorgeously displayed in its beautiful winged bottle. When I imagine Dune, in all its complexity, in its searing heat and biting coldness, it is as black as the Fremen’s leather suits.

Marine Oriental

Notes: bergamot, mandarin, palisander, aldehyde, peony, broom, jasmine, rose, ylang-ylang, lily, wallflower, lichen, vanilla, patchouli, benzoin, sandalwood, amber, oakmoss, and musk.

Kate Spade – Live Colorfully

Posted on May 15, 2013 by Leah

Kate Spade – Live Colorfully

While there are certain releases which I dream about for months, there are others which barely register on my interest radar. When I heard of the latest release from the Kate Spade fashion empire, Live Colorfully, a collaboration between consultants Fabrice Penot, Edouard Roche with input by Poppy King (and execution by Firmenich), I did not know what to expect. I grabbed a sample on a recent trip to Nordstrom and must admit that I was immediately put off by the psychedelic packaging.

Perhaps the problem lies with me, as I tend not to be overly “colorful”, with the exception of some Hermes scarves, but the sample card seemed to scream “plastic, harsh synthetic, fruity floral”. And therein lay the surprise. Live Colorfully opens with a burst of citrus and floral, with a touch of anise. The opening feels quite thin, far from my expectation of a syrupy sweetness. Despite the name and packaging, Live Colorfully is not very colorful. It morphs into a decent white floral, with gardenia accented by a light coconut that manages not to scream “suntan lotion”.

At this point I was intrigued and attempted to hunt down some perfume notes (listed below) and there are certainly a lot of them. Despite the impression that Live Colorfully has a lot going on, a lot of notes, a lot of creators, it is fairly simple at its heart and quite pretty, if a touch unbalanced. I detected a hint of narcissus, which appears to be the only flower not included in the fragrance, but the gardenia/tiare combination dominates.

The drydown has a very subtle combination of vanilla, amber and musk, which in my opinion could have been a little richer. While I don’t see myself running out to buy a bottle given the number of white florals I have in my collection, Live Colorfully is a pretty fragrance that is perfect for someone venturing into this genre.

For more details on what went into the making of the perfume, the WSJ had this article.

White Floral

Notes: mandarin, pink water lily, star anise, tiare, gardenia, coconut water, amber, musk and tahitian vanilla

Guerlain – Shalimar

Posted on May 10, 2013 by Leah

Guerlain – Shalimar: Taking Risks

I have a photograph of my mother as a young woman in Italy on her honeymoon. She is sitting at a vanity in her hotel room, which overlooks the Spanish Steps. Her thick, long black hair is set up in hot rollers. She sits, dressed in a deep red cashmere turtleneck, applying makeup with the expertise of an artist. While most of us would protest at being photographed in this manner, just before the camera clicks, she gives my father a loving smile with all of the confidence of a beautiful young woman who knows she is loved.

If you could travel through time and step into the photograph, the scent that would pervade the room would be Shalimar, itself a long-standing symbol of romantic love. Shalimar was created by Jacques Guerlain in 1925, named for the beautiful gardens surrounding the Taj Majal built by the Emperor Shah Jahan for his wife Mumtaz Mahal. While I always admired Shalimar intellectually as the paragon of oriental fragrances, I had difficulty getting past my emotional associations with the fragrance. For years, I would try the fragrance on when passing a Guerlain counter, and yet, something did not seem right. While I loved all of the component notes in theory – a bright bergamot opening, a floral heart of jasmine and rose and a warm enveloping radiance of vanilla and the smoky amber of tonka – I experienced these as a screechy and suffocating cloud. My mother and I have somewhat similar tastes in fragrance, so I was baffled. What had she found so alluring about this fragrance that inspired her to wear it for so many years? Why did it unfold so differently on me? After some time, I moved on, and found my own Guerlain loves, until…

I had decided to take part in a perfume auction which listed a vintage Guerlain in a rosebud bottle developed in the 1950s, which had housed several of their fragrances including L’Heure Bleue, Mitsouko, Ode and Vol de Nuit. Unfortunately, the bottle had no label and the seller was not a perfume collector, so the contents remained a mystery. Given that the bottle could have contained any number of beauties which I loved, I decided to take a risk and bid on the item. Based on the color of the fragrance, which was a deep, rich caramel, I reasoned that it must be Mitsouko. I only hoped that it wasn’t Shalimar. I bid, and I won and then I awaited the arrival of my mystery fragrance.

When the bottle arrived, I scarcely made it to the car before opening the box. I opened it and inhaled. It wasn’t Mitsouko. It wasn’t Vol de Nuit. It definitely wasn’t Ode or Jicky. What was this beauty? I dabbed on the perfume and stepped into an appointment.

Over the next couple of hours, I was treated to the most opulent, gentle, unfolding of a fragrance I had ever experienced. The notes were warm and distinct, each hovering about me before softly cascading into the next. I was reminded of Monet’s series of paintings of the Cathedral at Rouen. He would sit outside all day, with numerous easels before him. As the light changed, he would move on to the next easel and paint the same façade anew. The effect of the paintings when viewed together is a soft transition of light across the face of the Cathedral. I was similarly entranced and mystified until…

Hardly aware of its arrival, there it was: the lush, vanilla drydown of Shalimar, which is unmistakable. Jacques Guerlain was known to have employed two different vanilla components to render this complex and amber-like vanilla which is unique to Guerlain, and rendered especially opulent in Shalimar. I was humbled for presuming that one of history’s greatest noses had created something less than a masterpiece, and embarrassed for not having wanted it.

While I attribute much of my new-found love for Shalimar to the quality of the vintage version versus those currently in production, circumstances certainly played a role. My ignorance to the scent’s identity and my desire for it to be something “else” allowed me to experience the fragrance without my prior personal barriers or associations. Shalimar taught me that the pursuit of fragrance sometimes requires risks, the rewards of which are often love.

Oriental

Notes: bergamot, lemon, jasmine, rose, iris, incense, opopanax, tonka bean, and vanilla.

Serge Lutens – De Profundis

Posted on May 8, 2013 by Leah

Serge Lutens – De Profundis

De Profundis, released in 2011, is centered around the scent of chrysanthemums, a flower which is frequently associated with funerals, and which for many brings to mind somber associations. I made the point of seeking out chrysanthemum blooms to form an unbiased opinion, which I believe is consistent with what Monsieur Lutens was trying to achieve intellectually: to give this lovely flower new life through the power of fragrance. While De Profundis is a realistic impression of chrysanthemum with its spicy floral character, it is much more.

I am always astonished by the ability of the Lutens/Sheldrake team to create perfumes with so much character. Whether one enjoys the resulting creation or not is sometimes besides the point – there is no denying the complexity of Lutens’ fragrances, which always seem to evoke a certain sense of atmosphere. De Profundis goes beyond this point, conveying a sense of presence.

My first impression of the fragrance brought to mind a “paranormal” phenomena known as clairalience – a form of extra-sensory perception where one acquires information primarily through smell. People who experience clairalience will suddenly smell the scent of flowers, a familiar perfume, or some other scent with no visible or logical source, the explanation being that a deceased loved one is making their visitation or “haunting” clearly known by way of a scented manifestation.

Indeed, the character of De Profundis is so memorable as to be haunting. While there is no denying the more somber associations, I find the fragrance to be ethereal not corporeal, the scent of a spirit. The soaring, bright green opening gives way to an abstract spicy floral with a tinge of decay, like flowers past their prime. Despite the presence of indolic notes, the fragrance remains light.

The crisp opening is tempered by a subtle incense which seems to hover over the spicy, sharp bouquet, giving it a depth unusual for a floral. It is this contradiction which helps to make De Profundis so memorable, as it seems to inhabit two distinct realms at once.

Floral

Notes: chrysanthemum, dahlia, lily, violet, earthy notes.

Hermes – Eau de Gentiane Blanche

Posted on May 3, 2013 by Leah

Hermes – Eau de Gentiane Blanche

It’s hard to imagine that summer is just a few months away and that we will need to go digging into our fragrance wardrobe to pick out those warm-weather staples, beauties that are light enough not to become cloying when the temperature rises. I had read mixed reviews of Hermes Eau de Gentiane Blanc, which many had dismissed as a clean laundry scent. While I did not hold out great hope as I am not a lover of the “clean scent” genre, I was intrigued by the smoky blackness of the bottle, and felt I had to test for myself.

Eau de Gentiane Blanche exceeded my expectations. A prototypical Jean-Claude Ellena fragrance, Gentiane Blanche is both complex and diaphonous, audacious and delicate. Gentian root was traditionally cultivated for use in various tonics and medicinal concoctions and this was my first experience with it in perfume. The fragrance has a slightly green, herbal opening which has all the bitterness and milky unctuousness ofdandelion stems. While iris lends a powderiness to the fragrance, it is devoid of sweetness and could be carried off beautifully by a man.

The sillage is fairly light, true to its cologne composition, and yet Gentiane Blanche has suprising tenacity, escpecially with liberal application. The warmth of the musk is tempered by a light incense, which keeps the fragrance dry enough for even the most humid summer days. With the exception of vintage Guerlans flacons, I am not typically swayed by bottle design and yet the stately Hermes bottle rendered in smoky black crystal looks positively elegant and mysterious.

Green woods

Notes: gentian, white musk, iris and incense

Carven – Ma Griffe

Posted on April 26, 2013 by Leah

Carven – Ma Griffe

My eyesight is very poor, a circumstance which at times provokes sheer panic at the thought of not being able to read, which is essential in my line of work and my life as I know it. When asked which of the five senses they would give up, people are often quick to sacrifice their sense of smell without taking into consideration the impact this would have on their lives. Aside from the obvious lack of scents, flavors would be gone as well. Think of how many scent-triggered memories and associations you treasure: the smell of a loved one, autumn, holiday cooking – these would all be relegated to the territory of imagination. Indeed, life would take on a flat and somewhat frightening existence, since we often perceive things with our nose well in advance of our eyes.

Imagine how much more terrifying this loss would be if one’s passion and livelihood depended upon it. At the time perfumer Jean Carles created Ma Griffe, he was largely anosmic. Anosmia is condition whereby one loses their ability to perceive odors. Let’s put aside the fact that if any of us tried to create a fragrance with no sense of smell it would probably resemble kerosene, but the fact that this man created a beautiful and unique fragrance is astounding and a testament to his abilities as a perfumer.

The French term “ma griffe” is literally defined as “my claw”. While the fragrance would later be repositioned (both in its chemical composition and its advertising) to fit this definition, it was initially portrayed with the more subtle, figurative translation of Ma Griffe, namely “my signature” or “my label” as in a designer’s label. Ma Griffe was launched in 1946 by the design house Carven. Madame Carmen de Tommaso, Carven’s founder, was a proponent for innovative clothing, meant to suit women in their everyday lives and the house’s “signature” scent clearly reflected these sensibilities.

My main experience of Ma Griffe is of the vintage, and while this does possess an intense, green burst of galbanum and citrus in its opening (I felt I could almost see the green) it quickly offers brief, veiled glimpses of the soft, mossy heart that is to come. Ma Griffe in its original form is not the talon-bearing sabertooth alluded to in later advertisements which depict a woman’s hand clawing deep marks into a man’s back. While its composition and character are assuredly memorable, Ma Griffe is more like a playful feline which gently rakes its nails over your arm and then proceeds to arrange itself cozily in your lap.

While the heart notes feature jasmine and rose, this is by no means a sweet fragrance. More prominently featured are dry and warm facets of iris, musk and oakmoss. Even the vetiver, labdanum and sandalwood take on a tone which is more mossy than woody. While most mossy fragrances offer the impression of rain-soaked forests, Ma Griffe feels more like a walk in the forest on a dry day, when the soaring oaks and their mossy inhabitants are warmed by the sun and give off a dry, slightly powdery musty odor. If you are not a fan of oakmoss or musk, this may be a challenging fragrance. While its character is not overpowering, it is certainly distinct. For me, this fragrance takes me back to hours spent exploring the forest behind my house, in search of magical creatures both real and imagined.

Unfortunately, Ma Griffe has been repositioned into something of a bargain basement fragrance due in part to regulations regarding the use of oakmoss, in addition to financial considerations. The current incarnation plays up the more “aggressive” factors of the fragrance and has unfortunately all but destroyed the velvety drydown. While I cannot recommend the reformulation, I find the original to be exceedingly unique and would wear it more often if my supply of it were not so limited.

Floral chypre

Notes: gardenia, greens, galbanum, citrus, aldehydes, clary sage, jasmine, rose, sandalwood, vetiver, orris, ylang ylang, styrax, oakmoss, cinnamon, musk, benzoin, and labdanum.

Quintessence

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