Tag Archives: lavender

Serge Lutens – Fourreau Noir

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Serge Lutens – Fourreau Noir

Lavender is a top contender for my favorite note status. It is comforting and bracing all at once – a reminder to slow down, and an inspiration to keep going. The scent of lavender has been traditionally used in aromatherapy for relaxation, and it is easy to understand why. One whiff and my mind immediately drifts off to visions of lavender fields in the South of France, where row upon row of the dusky, green-grey stalks wave their lovely purple buds in the wind, imbuing the region with the magical scent of summertime. Lavender is the scent of freshly scrubbed faces and hair and clean sheets drying in the sunshine.

With all of these associations in mind, I was completely unprepared for the treatment of lavender in Fourreau Noir, which translates from the French as “black sheath”. Black indeed, and sharp as a knife. While in my mind Lutens had already created the quintessential lavender fragrance with his 2006 Gris Clair, he revisited the lavender theme in 2009 and turned it on its head.

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Fourreau Noir starts out with an sharp, almost metallic citrus note which explodes into an intense, slightly medicinal lavender, but there is no hint of summertime freshness to be found anywhere in this bottle. Instead, Lutens and Sheldrake manage to make lavender come alive with the warmth, and dare I say fur, of a living creature. The extreme lavender opening softens and blurs out of focus with the introduction of tonka and coumarin, lending a sweet warmth to the lavender note that I love on some days and cannot wrap my mind around on others.

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Fourreau Noir is a perfect cold-weather scent when the balsamic syrup of the dry-down feels warm and smooth rather than cloying. Indeed, this is one of those fragrances that seems larger than life in the heat and humidity, but is as soft and tame as a kitten in the winter. While I spend the warmer months of the year looking forward to wrapping myself in oriental fragrances, Fourreau Noir offers the depth of this genre, while hinting of warmer days to come. This one takes the prize for the most ingenious and unusual treatments of lavender.

A special thanks to Barney’s for the sample.

Fougère

Notes: Lavender, Tonka, Musk, Almonds, Smoke

 

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Hierbas de Ibiza – Agua de Colonia Fresca

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Hierbas de Ibiza – Agua de Colonia Fresca

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While I am lucky enough to have cobbled together a nice collection of perfumes and samples over the years, I am truly fortunate to have friends that are eager to share their fragrances with me, allowing me to experience scents I may not have otherwise had access to. Some of these are avid collectors, and some have only a few bottles in their repetoire, but the generosity and enthusiasm of each and every one of them is part of what makes the exploration of fragrances so enjoyable.

One such friend introduced me to Agua de Colonia Fresca by Hierbas de Ibiza, a family-operated perfumer that has been creating Mediterranean-inspired scents since 1965. While the group started out small, creating fragrances on a fairly intimate scale, the success of their products has ultimately landed them in prestigious retailers such as Barney’s.

The groups’ self-professed star creation is Agua de Colonia Fresca Hierbas de Ibiza. While the official notes have a dizzying list of citrus, floral and savory notes, the fragrance is fairly straight-forward in execution, consistent with the house’s motto of “simplicity and spontaneity”. Hierbas de Ibiza starts out super sharp and citrusy, with a slight herbal bitterness reminiscent of lemon pith. The fragrance quickly sweetens into a sorbet-like lemon confection but retains its bright, sharp character.  During the drydown, some of the green savory notes make a brief appearance, with rosemary and thyme being dominant.

Then, in what feels like an abrupt about-face, Hierbas de Ibiza largely changes its character in the drydown, transforming into a soft, warm and slightly musky vanilla veil. Given the fragrance’s playful opening and associations with the Mediterranean, I feared it might veer into the suntan-lotion category, but Hierbas de Ibiza’s vanilla is warm rather than sweet. Upon first application, the sillage is bold and viviacious. About an hour or so after the vanilla first makes its appearance, the fragrance is barely detectable, which is my main disappointment with Hierbas de Ibiza. That and the fact that I am not currently in Ibiza wearing sandals, a sundress and a deep suntan while I reapply it.

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Citrus
Notes: orange, lemon, lavender, lemon verbena, rosemary, thyme, sage, verbena, geranium, jasmine, orange blossom, cinnamon, and vanilla
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Cartier – Eau de Cartier Concentree

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Cartier – Eau de Cartier Concentree

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Following its launch of Eau de Cartier in 2001, Cartier followed up with a related fragrance, not so much a flanker as a reinforced version of the original. Released in 2002, perfumer Christine Nagel amplified certain of the aspects of the original with the addition of spice notes and, as the name implies, intensifying the concentration. While the original Eau de Cartier was an excellent fragrance, there was some disappointment surrounding its lasting power. In fact, perhaps the only criticism I had of the original was its sillage and longevity, both of which are fairly minimal, but then again it is marketed as an “Eau”.

While Eau de Cartier Concentree comes off as slightly more intense than its predecessor, the general structure of the original remains intact. Eau de Cartier Concentree starts off with a burst of yuzu, a citrus fruit somewhere between a grapefruit and a mandarine. Concentree is enhanced with coriander, giving the opening a bit more “oomph” than the original. At its heart, the fragrance takes on an aqueous floral scent, with a subtle green, medicinal tang from the violet leaves and lavender.

The drydown takes on a considerably more intimate feel, with a deliciously warm, slightly salty, woodsy finish. Concentree feels like a master of disguise, as the fragrance maintains a fresh aspect despite the introduction of patchouli and warm amber.  I have seen the fragrance marketed in different stores as a men’s and women’s fragrance. Needless to say, Eau de Cartier makes an excellent unisex fragrance.

Woods

Notes: yuzu, coriander, bergamot, violet notes, musk, lavender, cedarwood, patchouli and amber

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Chanel – Égoïste

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Chanel – Égoïste

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One of my all-time favorite fragrances from Chanel is not even a woman’s fragrance, though according to an interview with its creator Jacques Polge, Égoïste was inspired by one of Chanel’s most iconic women’s fragrances, Bois des Iles. Polge reportedly stumbled upon Ernest Beaux’s original formula for Bois des Iles, which was released in 1926 and adapted it to a male sensibility.  Égoïste, not to be confused with Égoïste Platinum which debuted in 1994, was released in 1990 and despite an almost cult-like following among its admirers, failed miserably outside of the European market. As a side note, Égoïste Platinum which was created in keeping with a more American olfactory aesthetic of clean, sporty fragrances flourished, in the travesty of what my friend at Chanel refers to as “the baby killing the father”.

Égoïste was originally released under the name Bois Noir, a nod at the source of Polge’s inpiration, and only available at Chanel boutiques similar to the way Les Exclusifs are marketed now. The fragrance was intended to accompany a line of men’s clothing, although this idea was later axed by Chanel, leaving Bois Noir orphaned. When the fragrance was finally made available for wider distribution, it was done so under the name Égoïste, perhaps another reason for its lack of popularity in the United States.  Égoïste roughly translates into “selfish person”, one who is self-centered and overly preoccupied with their individual needs. Without getting into a debate over why it is healthy for a person to be concerned with their own needs and desires, let’s just say that while this name was perfectly acceptable abroad, it was not well-received state-side.egoiste3

I will never forget the first time I saw the commercial for Égoïste, probably one of the most brilliant and bizarre marketing campaigns I had ever witnessed – beautiful women dressed in magnificent couture gowns, throwing open the doors of a French apartment building, shouting impassioned cries at the offending Égoïste, their lines loosely based on Pierre Corneille’s “Le Cid”, while Prokofiev’s dramatic “Dance of the Knights” plays in the background.

“Égoiste. Où es-tu ? Montre-toi misérable! Prends garde à mon courroux, je serai implacable. Ô rage ! Ô désespoir ! Ô pourquoi m’as-tu donc trahi ? N’ai-je donc tant vécu que pour cette infâmie ? Montre-toi égoiste ! Égoiste…!”.*

The only glimpse we get of the cause of such calamity is the masculine hand of the Égoïste himself as he sets a bottle of the fragrance on the balcony of the apartment building he shares with all of the women has apparently seduced and forgotten. In an instant, without being bombarded with images of virile male models, we understand at once that Égoïste is about seduction. And while it is evident that our invisible Don Juan and his fragrance have moved on from these various women, they have left their indelible mark on these women, a scented memory of seduction.

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The fragrance itself is gorgeous, a hybrid of Bois des Iles and Chanel No 18, the latter created around the scent of ambrette seed, one of the components of Égoïste. From the first opening notes, one is immediately aware that Égoïste was a new creation in men’s fragrances, one that left the classical fougere and chypres behind. In the opening we are greeted with a spicy mix of flowers and fruit, that comes across as rich and slightly plummy.

As the fragrance warms on the skin, the seduction continues. Égoïste deepens into a beautiful, slightly creamy woods softened by vanilla and traces of ambrette. The effect is stunning, and equally delicious on a man or a woman.

Woody Oriental

Notes: Tangerine, lavender, rose, coriander, Bourbon vanilla, sandalwood, rosewood and ambrette seed.

*Where are you? Show yourself, you wretch! Beware my wrath. I will be implacable. O rage! O despair! O why have you betrayed me? Have I lived only for this insult? Reveal yourself, egotist!

 

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Serge Lutens – Gris Clair

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Serge Lutens – Gris Clair

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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.

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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.

 

 

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