Etat Libre d’Orange – The Afternoon of a Faun

Posted on November 21, 2013 by Leah

The Afternoon of a Faun by Etat Libre d’Orange

L’Aprés Midi D’un Faun or The Afternoon of a Faun was composed by the French poet Stéphane Mallarmé in 1865. The poem recounts the erotic imaginings of a Faun which comes upon two nymphs in the forest. Mallarmé was one of France’s four major poets of the second half of the 19th century, along with Charles Baudelaire, Paul Verlaine, and Arthur Rimbaud. He is noted as one of the pioneers of symbolism in poetry, and while critics argue that he often used obscure imagery to express emotional experience, The Afternoon of a Faun is very much to the point as illustrated below. Given the sexual content of the poem, one can only imagine what the “less sorrowful vapors” represent.

I adore it, the wrath of virgins, the wild

Delight of the sacred nude burden which slips

To escape from my hot lips drinking, as lightning

Flashes! the secret terror of the flesh:

From the feet of the cruel one to the heart of the timid

Who together lose an innocence, humid

With wild tears or less sorrowful vapours.

Mallarmé’s poems inspired Debussy’s tone poem (1894) of the same name, which was later interpreted into a ballet by Vaslav Nijinsky for the Ballet Russes. The 1912 ballet proved exceptionally scandalous for its unconventional choreography and graphic sexual depictions. Obviously, the use of this name for a perfume is meant to convey an entire catalog of associations and points to a highly animalic and sensual creation, and yet I cannot help but find that the perfume, while lovely, does not live up to the connotations.

The fragrance opens with a sharp and distinctly woody, herbaceous character, which is made somewhat opulent by the introduction of immortelle. Immortelle can manifest itself quite differently in different compositions, and here it takes on a sweet, tobacco-like character. At first application, I imagine myself to be in the woods with the Faun as he awakes from his slumber, but this is where the similarity to the tale ends.

As the fragrance progresses, it is punctuated by rose and the woody notes take on a more floral character, with a spicy, leathery aspect. While The Afternoon of a Faun does contain moss and leather notes suggestive of an animalic perfume, it does not reach the same depths as the vintage fragrances previously reviewed. Justin Vivian Bond and Ralf Schwieger’s creation for Etat Libre d’Orange is a decidedly modern interpretation on the Faun/Fur theme, one which touches on the lighter aspects of the forest, as opposed to the deeply sensual activities of the Faun. The perfume has an incredible sillage and potent lasting power, so a light application is suggested.

Spicy Woods

Notes: Bergamot, Pepper, Cinnamon, Incense, Rose, Immortal Flower, Orris, Jasmine, Myrrh of Namibia, Moss, Leather, Benzoin.

Hermes – Un Jardin sur le Nil

Posted on September 5, 2013 by Leah

Hermes – Un Jardin sur le Nil

There are certain fragrances which elicit an involuntary story full of romance and wonder, thanks to the beauty of their creation. Unfortunately for Un Jardin sur le Nil, anyone who has read Chandler Burr’s “The Emperor of Scent” will likely recall the tale of Hermes sending its nose Jean-Claude Ellena on an expedition to Egypt with an entire team in tow, to capture the scents of the exotic landscape. While this episode does show the more banal side of perfumery, the hilarity of this scenario does nothing to diminish this beautful creation.

Jean-Claude Ellena commenced his olfactory travels in 2003 with Un Jardin en Mediterranee, a fig/woods creation which invoked the gardens of the Mediterranean. Un Jardin sur le Nil, second in the series and created in 2005, takes us to the exotic reaches of the Nile, if only in name. Chandler Burr explains here how Ellena had to abandon his original vision for an Egyptian-inspired fragrance upon his arrival, as the actual smells were less dark and opulent than his imagination had suggested. What Ellena was ultimately inspired by was the many mango trees growing in the area which were covered in young green mango, which has a distinctly different smell than ripe mango – tart, with a bit of bite and slightly dusty.

The fragrance starts out with a bright citrus note that is positively bursting. While not listed anywhere in the notes, my impression is of a juicy grapefruit exploding under the pressure of a sharp knife. The grapefruit note unfolds into a green mango note, fruity and tangy but devoid of sweetness, which in my opinion is one of the aspects that makes this fragrance so successful.

As the citrus dies down, there is a light floral impression which lightens the fragrance into a familiar Jean-Claude Ellena category. While light, the fragrance possesses an underlying complexity which becomes more apparent in the base of rich sycomore woods. Despite the richness of the mango and woods, the fragrance maintains a dry character which keeps it beautiful and delicate without becoming too sweet.

As with many of Ellena’s creations, the simplicity of the notes belie the complexity of the resulting fragrance, as Ellena has proven himself to be a master of illusion. Un Jardin sur le Nil possesses a strong but comfortable potency and sillage and its character is perfectly suitable for a man or a woman.

Citrus Woods

Notes: Green Mango, Lotus, Aromatic Rushes, Incense, Sycamore Wood.

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.

Editions de Parfums Frederic Malle – Dans Tes Bras

Posted on May 6, 2013 by Leah

Editions de Parfums Frederic Malle – Dans Tes Bras

Violet and heliotrope are among my favorite floral notes, so the 2008 release by Editions de Parfums Frederic Malle sounded like it would be right up my alley. What baffled me was how these light floral notes could be possibly be combined with incense and pine (other favorites) into a fragrance which would be coherent, let alone beautiful. Why I doubted the artistry of Maurice Roucel, prolific creator of perfumes such as 24, Faubourg and Iris Silver Mist, I am not certain, but it is something I will not do again.

This being said, Dans Tes Bras is far from being easily accessible. What starts out as a beautiful violet opening, tinged with a lovely anisic note and slight hint of green, quickly and unexpectedly darkens into a deep and stormy brew. Dans Tes Bras, translated as “in your arms” has all the warmth and depth of a lover’s embrace, the scented equivalent of Edith Piaf’s “La Vie En Rose”. While the lightness of the floral accords recedes into the background, deep notes of pine, patchouli and incense seems to rise up like a dense vortex. The fragrance develops a creamy, warm character that lends a supple richness to the creation. Dans Tes Bras gives me the impression of being wrapped in a billowy cloud: I can see the light, yet I am enveloped within a heavy, charged atmosphere. It feels odd and safe, all at once.

While Dans Tes Bras is a thoroughly modern composition, there is a soapy, powdery nuance to the fragrance that lends it a vintage character, reminiscent of Lucien Lelong’s Tailspin. My sense is that the cashmeran was responsible for this, an ambery musky note which is often described as cashmere woods in a fragrance. Perhaps my imaginary cloud is the strong, cashmere laden arms of a loved one: strong and warm, yet utterly human.

Floral Woodsy Musk

Notes: heliotrope, jasmine, woodsy notes, patchouli, pine tree, cashmeran, sandalwood, musk, incense and violet.

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

Serge Lutens – Iris Silver Mist

Posted on May 1, 2013 by Leah

Serge Lutens – Iris Silver Mist

There are certain perfumes which so perfectly capture the essence of a particular flower that they achieve a level of cult status that makes it nearly impossible for other fragrances to contend with. For the deep velvety rose, there is Guerlain’s Nahema. For the lovely tuberose, there is Fracas by Robert Piguet. And until I am fortunate enough to make the acquaintance of the mythic Iris Gris by Jacques Fath, there is no single perfume which so fully captures the essence of iris as well as Iris Silver Mist.

Iris Silver Mist was a collaboration between Serge Lutens and Maurice Roucel, the nose behind Hermès 24, Faubourg, and Musc Ravageur from Editions de Parfums Frederic Malle. The story goes that Lutens pestered his nose to devise the consummate iris – and Roucel reciprocated by creating a fragrance incorporating every iris note available – an iris to end them all. The result is fairly magical, like witnessing the plant’s evolution through all its stages of growth. Iris Silver Mist starts out with a rooty, carrot-like note that is all iris bulbs, vegetal and earthy with a slightly spicy snap. As the fragrance evolves, we make our way up out of the earth, along the sharp, crisp green stalk of the plant. Once it is warmed by the skin, the floral aspect becomes more prominent and we are treated to the iris flower in all its splendor: metallic, dusty, powdery, soft and slightly ghostlike, with hints of its green stem and soil-covered bulb hovering in and out of focus.

Although Roucel may have taken direction from Lutens with respect to the creation, the fragrance speaks to me of another perfume house. While Iris Silver Mist certainly shares some of the bold characteristics of other perfumes in the Lutens line, it felt like their version of a Guerlain, though perhaps with a touch of irony. Iris Silver Mist has good longevity, though its sillage is lighter than many of Luten’s other creations. Many Serge Lutens fans often comment that his perfumes come on too strong when sprayed as opposed to dabbed, and this may be one of the exceptions. While Iris Silver Mist comes in one of the gorgeous “bell jars”, I personally felt compelled to decant it, so I could spray with abandon. Breathtaking.

Notes: iris, clove, cedarwood, sandalwood, vetiver, white amber, labdanum, musks, benzoin, incense.

Prada – Infusion d’Iris

Posted on April 1, 2013 by Leah

Prada – Infusion d’Iris

Nothing imparts a sense of springtime quite like iris. The bulbs which have lain dormant, nestled deep within the earth’s rich soil, seem to smell the warmth of the sun, a signal to commence pushing their shoots upward in order to crown the day with their regal flowers. With its ethereal, haunting beauty, iris has a foot firmly planted in two seasons: the beautiful floral aspect hails the coming Spring, while the cold, dusty and earthy aspects of this note recall the Winter months it has left behind.

In Infusion d’Iris, perfumer Daniela Andrier has beautifully captured this duality of iris, conveying the bright burst of green stems and floral notes, tempered by the richness of the still-cool earth. Infusion d’Iris opens with a lovely aldehyde burst of orange blossoms and mandarin, a delicious introduction to the green and soft floral quality of its iris heart. Although the fragrance maintains a light character throughout, the iris unfolds to the depth of its earthy roots, warmed by the richness of incense and woods.

While Infusion d’Iris has a modern sensibility, the iris tinged with what smells a bit like violet feels like a throwback to many beautiful vintage fragrances containing this note, notably Apres l’Ondee and L’Heure Bleue, though without their powdery feel. My sole criticism of this 2007 release is its light nature, which is especially gentle for an Eau de Parfum. While it possesses adequate longevity, the sillage is minimal and I found myself wanting to apply liberally and frequently.

Floral

Notes: mandarin, orange blossom, galbanum, iris, incense, benzoin, cedar, lentisc and vetiver

Serge Lutens – Jeux de Peau

Posted on March 15, 2013 by Leah

Serge Lutens – Jeux de Peau

It’s as if the baker took us by the hand.

Your childhood is a slope. The farther down you go, the more it comes back to you. You must separate the wheat from the chaff to know who you are. All this to say that the smell of fresh bread from the bakery takes us back. The feel of warm bread against the cheek even more so, evoking a familiar sensation from my childhood. Serge Lutens

If the exploration of fragrance is a journey that takes place both externally and internally, then no other house stretches the imagination further than Serge Lutens. The relationship between Lutens and nose Christopher Sheldrake seems almost supernatural – as though Sheldrake is able to channel the incredible imagery and visions of Monsieur Lutens and render them into olfactory reality. At least it appears that he is somehow channeling Lutens, because the resulting fragrances are so thoroughly in keeping with Lutens’s singular aesthetic and vernacular, not to mention so profoundly different than what Sheldrake has created for Chanel in collaboration with Jacques Polge, that some greater force must be at work.

While all of the Lutens/Sheldrake fragrances are exceedingly unique, there is a common thread of oddity that runs through them, beyond the scent signatures which most houses possess. As I have discussed previously in my review of Gris Clair… I imagine the Lutens line to be organized in a manner similar to a color wheel, with certain fragrances occupying a common general spectrum. To that end, I would categorize Jeux de Peau in the olfactory realm occupied by Chypre Rouge and perhaps Arabie, although the fragrance shares some similarities with Boxeuses as well. While I realize that this will immediately make Jeux de Peau a non-starter for many, Jeux de Peau is one of those beauties that slowly captivates and seduces, despite its oddity, or perhaps even because of it.

Jeux de Peau, loosely translated as “skin games” from the French, is certainly imbued with a sense of playfulness, as Lutens sought to capture the scent of freshly baked bread from his childhood in Lille, France. I wonder if he gained a sense of impish satisfaction imagining perfumistas worldwide attempting to sniff out the reputed bread note upon first obtaining their samples. While I was able to root out the elusive note, the fragrance for me represents a full breakfast compliment, as well as some non-breakfast foods. To relegate Jeux de Peau to a simple prank on the part of its maker, however, is to miss the true genius and beauty of this creation. Certainly, the Lutens/Sheldrake duo take us through an intellectual exercise, which keeps the wearer occupied and amused throughout the day, but one which does not diminish the overall result.

Jeux de Peau starts out with a brief green note, a cross between celery and green anise. The impression is fleeting and somewhat confusing upon first testing, because it is so obviously not breadlike. The note fades rather quickly, transforming into something that recalls the immortelle-like note in Chypre Rouge. After wearing Jeux de Peau a few times, this opening feels like a palate cleanser one has between courses at a sumptuous meal in order to better appreciate the nuances of the next course. The duo is clearly preparing us for something.

Jeux de Peau has the bitterness of yeast, coupled with the rich milkiness of oozing butter. There is a slight sweetness, as though the bread in question were a gorgeous brioche, its buttery richness toasted to the point of caramelizing. Notes of licorice and coconut combine to give a complex, creamy dimensionality to the fragrance. The compliment to the toasted note comes in the form of a luscious, dense fruit jam, thanks to a melange of apricot and osmanthus, giving the fragrance a typical Lutensian opulence. All at once I realize this is no brioche, it is in fact a tarte tatin a l’abricot, warm and steaming from the oven, the thick apricot juices flowing over the sides and hardening into a glistening caramel crust. Despite what would seem to be an obvious gourmand effect, the fragrance is not as sweet as its counterparts in this category. Here Sheldrake’s skill as a perfumer seems most apparent – one has the intellectual impression of sweet pastry without it being overbearing or uncomfortable.

After the initial cerebral play that Lutens/Sheldrake have just taken us through, the game involving the skin appears in the journey from Lutens’s memory to a place of sheer beauty. As a gift for accompanying the duo on this mental exercise, we are rewarded with a supremely beautiful fragrance. Incense, rich sandalwood and a touch of Lutens’s signature amber come together to reveal a refined and classically beautiful scent. While Jeux de Peau was initially one of the most difficult fragrances for me out of the Lutens line, after revisiting, it eventually became one of my favorites. Aside from the joy of wearing a beautiful perfume, there is a sense of emotional communion with its creator in the magical realm of memory, making Jeux de Peau a supremely intimate experience.

Oriental

Notes: Milk, licorice, coconut, osmanthus, apricot, amber, incense and sandalwood

Serge Lutens – Gris Clair

Posted on January 31, 2013 by Leah

Serge Lutens – Gris Clair

I will start out this post with two admissions. First: I do not tend to view fragrances as “masculine” or “feminine”, rather as well-composed and beautiful, or not. There are several fragrances which I appreciate from both categories, one of my favorites being Chanel’s Egoiste. That being said, Gris Clair is definitely suited to being worn by a man. Second: I have a degree of synesthesia, which means that I perceive abstract things as having color. For example, the number One is white. The letter E is green. While I do not experience this to a degree that is disruptive (unless you consider not being able to wear certain fragrances while dressed in a certain color disruptive), it does sometimes create confusion when my perceived impression is challenged. Case in point, the fact that Thierry Mugler’s Angel was blue-colored was shocking to me, because it was so obviously in my mind the smell of all things deep, delicious and brown. Why I raise this will become clear.

The first time I set out to conquer the masterful body of work that is the Serge Lutens line, I started small. Not in volume, just in size. I obtained a number of sample vials based largely on description and personal inclination. As part of this bounty, I requested a vial of Gris Clair. When the samples arrived, I immediately smothered myself in Tubereuse Criminelle and Ambre Sultan and was out of commission for the rest of the evening. The next morning, I opened the Gris Clair vial and was immediately surprised by the novel treatment of lavender. I liked it well enough, but then I put it away to further explore the more immediately and blatantly intoxicating fragrances.

Then a funny thing happened. Days went by, and I could not stop thinking about Gris Clair. Was that a hint of smoke I detected? How did the interplay between lavender and a certain ashy sensation play out? Like a handsome stranger one sees fleetingly before the train doors shut, I could not stop thinking about this mysterious beauty. I had to seek it out and investigate further.

While I generally associate lavender with warm sunshine, sweeping fields and the fresh-scrubbed innocence of childhood, Gris Clair’s lavender did not fit into any of these categories. This is an adult, refined lavender with a shadowy, ghostly aspect. Gris Clair has a certain chill to it, not unlike the smell of dry burning wood on a cold winter night. While tonka and amber round out the smokiness and give a spark of life and depth to the fire, the predominant impression is that of alternating wisps of lavender and incense smoke. Neither impression dominates, the two just alternate and envelop each other throughout the day in a magical smoky dance.

While the sillage is more serene than some of Christopher Sheldrake’s creations for the Lutens line, the tenacity is no less impressive. It stays with me through the day without my needing to hunt for it. While I would be loath to attempt to pit one Serge Lutens fragrance against another in comparison, this is quite different than many of his creations. Circling back to the synesthesia discussion, I see the entire Serge Lutens line as a color wheel, where certain shades congregate at one part of the circle versus another, grouped by commonalities in composition. Blues and purples here, yellows and greens there and round again for red and orange. Exchange certain elements of the composition and you no longer have blue, you have orange.

I sometimes have the sense that the house views the fragrances this way as well, given the deep and provocative hues they select for the fragrances. Gris Clair is in fact, light grey and falls to the end of a certain spectrum in the line, closer to a Five O’Clock at Gingembre and a tiny glimmer of Ambre Sultan. If you prefer the other end of the color wheel inhabited by A La Nuit, this will probably not be for you, unless like me, you have room enough in your heart to love them all. Gris Clair… definitely inhabits the other-worldly domain of grey where the sharp lines between black and white fade to abstraction: it is neither lavender nor ash. It is both and yet neither, warm and cold, calm and yet arresting. If I had to select one word to complete the space after the ellipses in the name, the suggestion that there is more to this fragrance than initially perceived, it is this… haunting.

Woods

Notes: iris, incense, tonka bean, amber, lavender and wood notes.

Quintessence

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