Guerlain – L’Heure de Nuit

Guerlain – L’Heure de Nuit

guerlain l'heure de nuit perfume exclusive

Released in 2012, in commemoration of the 100th anniversary of the monumental L’Heure Bleue, L’Heure de Nuit is Thierry Wasser’s homage to the classic. The fragrance is striking, a deep blue-hued juice in a classic bee bottle, and yet it seems an odd choice of presentation for such a  prestigious house.

While I applaud the effort on the part of houses like Guerlain to introduce their classics to a younger audience, once you have mastered perfection, it is difficult to match. In fact, any fragrance so sublime as L’Heure Bleue is sure to make anything, let alone a modern flanker, pale in comparison. Had I never smelled L’Heure Bleue, I may have fallen in love with L’Heure de Nuit immediately, but given the circumstances, it is difficult not to make comparisons.

L’Heure de Nuit starts off smelling distinctly like L’Heure Bleue, the gorgeous, luminous orange blossom unfolding into a anisic, almond confection that is pure heaven on earth. But much like Beethoven’s Ode to Joy loses some of its strength when played apart from the rest of the Ninth Symphony, L’Heure de Nuit feels slightly trite without the heft of the original. Absent is the rich powdery veil and the lush oriental base. In its stead, L’Heure de Nuit gets a dose of clean musk, making it feel lighter, cleaner and more modern than its refined older sister. If L’Heure Bleue is an impressionist painting, deep with densely applied colors, L’Heure de Nuit is a starter pack of magic markers: colorful and bright, but light and transient.

While the fragrance is lovely, it lacks the depth which gives vintage Guerlains their classic tenor. The fragrance has good longevity and sillage but again, lighter than the original. While I am thrilled that one of the most beautiful fragrances of all time has not been forgotten, I would prefer to have the original reincarnated in its true form, though as one can tell from the abominable quality of the current version of L’Heure Bleue, the IFRA has made that impossible.

Classic Reinterpreted

Notes: Bergamot, Orange Blossom, Iris, Heliotrope, Jasmine, Rose, Musk, Sandalwood

 

Robert Piguet – Bandit

Robert Piguet – Bandit

Leather scents rank highly in my top fragrance choices, but they can be difficult for some, especially as the weather turns warmer.  On days when I want the daring, provocative rebellion that only a leather can deliver, but without the heaviness, Robert Piguet’s Bandit is my fragrance of choice. Created by the fragrance mastermind Germaine Cellier, the woman responsible for Fracas and Balmain’s Vent Vert, Bandit is a fine balance between bracing leather and green florals.

Legend has it that the perfume was inspired by a symbolic post-war runway show, with models dressed up in masks and carrying toy weapons, like cross-dressed outlaws. Whether or not this legend is true, Bandit clearly has a foot squarely in each the masculine and feminine realms, giving the fragrance a subtle androgynous character and driving home its bad-boy image.bonnie-and-clyde-faye-dunaway

While the post-2012 reformulation is surely miles away from the 1944 original, the magic of Bandit lies in the interplay of leather and chypre, smokiness and green depths, masculine and feminine. From the first moments of its sharp galbanum opening until its rich smoky roots, Bandit is a beautiful marriage of opposites, like a tussle between James Dean and Marilyn Monroe. It’s elegant, bitter and beautifully unconventional.

Notes: galbanum, artemisia, neroli, orange, ylang ylang, jasmine, rose, tuberose, carnation, leather, vetiver, oakmoss, musk, patchouli.

2012 reformulation sample courtesy of Bergdorf Goodman.

Balmain – Ivoire

Balmain – Ivoire27115-pierre-balmain-perfumes-1988-ivoire-hprints-com

Elegant and polished like the keys of a piano, Balmain’s 1979 Ivoire perfectly captures the sensibility of its time and of the refined, luxurious fashions of its creator, Pierre Balmain. While the fragrance can go head to head with the big, bold and brash fragrances of the 1980s, it possesses an earthy quality characteristic of the 1970s. While the name Ivoire, French for ivory, conjures for many images of a big white velvety floral, Ivoire is positively green.

From the outset, Ivoire is dense and layered. On my skin, the fragrance does not unfold in the typical top-heart-base progression, rather it unleashes its depths all at once. Ivoire is green, herbal and floral, with a pungent, spicy warmth at its depth. And while the fragrance does take some twists and turns throughout the day, revealing bright citrus and hints of floral underpinned by galbanum, the warmth of oakmoss and musk is ever present. The drydown is a creamy, woodsy and slightly soapy pillow.

I have a small vintage bottle from the 1980s that I take out whenever I want to feel especially elegant in a confident, Chanel No 19-esque  manner, so I was thrilled to see that Balmain had re-issued the fragrance in 2012. While perfumers Michel Almairac and Jacques Flori are certainly talented in their own right, the beauty of the original was unfortunately lost in translation due to restrictions on perfume materials. The re-issued Ivoire leans more toward a straight floral, and feels sharp and unbalanced without the richness that only true oakmoss and musks can bring. And while it does not possess the elegance of the original 1970s ads, the new marketing photos are a knockout.

ivoiredebalmainvisuelpuNotes: green accord, galbanum, bergamot, lemon, aldehydes, lily of the valley, rose, hyacinth, jasmine, carnation, orris, orchid, geranium, cedar, musk, oakmoss, amber, raspberry and sandalwood.

Robert Piguet – Calypso

Robert Piguet – Calypso 

Odysseus and Calypso by Hendrik van Balen

Odysseus and Calypso by Hendrik van Balen

It has been a long time since I experienced a love at first sniff. Quite to the contrary, I typically sample repeatedly before I buy and implore my friends to do the same. There is nothing worse than an impulse buy – especially when fragrances today are designed to smell especially good in the opening notes. I have heard too many perfumistas sing the praises of a perfume, only to arrive home and feel the heartbreak of paying too much, or having the romance be short-lived because the drydown was disappointing. And yet despite all precautions, there I stood face to face with a new love at the Robert Piguet counter at Bergdorf Goodman in New York, and had no choice but to summon all my willpower to avoid buying it on the spot.

I had stopped by the beauty and fragrance level of Bergdorf to gaze at the lovely Guerlain display and sample Caron to my heart’s delight, but more on that later. After spraying myself with various different fragrances, and picking up samples of Oud, Bois Noir and Casbah, I left the store to do some sight-seeing.

The rest of the afternoon I was haunted by a soft, slightly floral, powdery patchouli dream of a drydown. My only problem was that I had tested no less than 9 perfumes on my skin that afternoon, so how to uncover which I had fallen in love with! As I sat down that evening, I went through my blotters and notes, which allowed me to eliminate many candidates. I knew it could not be a Caron, as it did not have the distinct flourish unique to Carons in the drydown. I know all the Guerlains by heart, so those were eliminated immediately.

NMC0W2F_mxI went through each of the Piguet samples until I found the source – an alluring and yet subtle mixture of modern lightness and a soft powdery quality prevalent in vintage fragrances such as L’Heure Bleue. The geranium opening quickly softens to a light rose, tempered by a soft iris. The drydown arrives fairly quickly, and in fact, is perceptible from the opening. The loveliest warm patchouli, mellowed by a light amber and soft, suede-like smell. Now that I have fallen in love with the modern version, which was reformulated by Aurelien Guichard, I am extremely curious to smell the 1950s vintage version. And yes, I have since purchased a bottle!

For those familiar with Chanel’s Coromandel and Borneo 1834 by Serge Lutens, this will seem like a tamer, subtler interpretation of a similar  patchouli theme, but it has its own merits. While Calypso is not particularly edgy or innovative, it has a subtle beauty and sophistication which make it a joy to wear. And after all, isn’t that what fragrance is all about?

Notes: Geranium, mandarin, rose, iris patchouli, amber and suede.

 

 

 

 

Chanel – Cuir de Russie

Chanel – Cuir de Russie

There are those fragrances that carry with them strong emotional associations, either because they were worn by a loved one, or because they were our close companion in the journey of life. My first encounter with Chanel’s Cuir de Russie was not unlike a scene in a movie where the protagonist’s life flashes before their eyes, revealing a series of memories and profound emotions. I was flooded with a thousand images and impressions. The stillness of the air on a cold winter night. The fur collar on my Russian great-grandfather’s coat mingled with the sweet scent of tobacco. The finest leather gloves and the elegance of a scented handkerchief. And yet how could a fragrance unknown to me have this effect?

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Of the four Cuir de Russie fragrances  I have tested, for me, Chanel’s interpretation most closely embodied the romanticism and elegance of the genre and of the individuals who inspired its creation. Chanel’s fragrance embodies the exotic elements which the exiled Russian community brought with them to Paris, and yet it captures all of the refined elegance of their new home. Chanel’s Cuir de Russie personifies the spirit of the Roaring Twenties, where flappers shocked the world with their emancipated fashions, their dancing and smoking.

Chanel’s Cuir is a close contemporary of Lubin’s, and indeed the two share some similarities making it evident that they are variations on a theme. While the Guerlain Cuir de Russie invokes a rustic, revolutionary feel, Chanel’s is starkly different. Chanel’s Cuir de Russie was created in 1924, by master nose Ernest Beaux, himself a Russian exile. Beaux was born in Moscow and  trained in perfumery with the prestigious A. Rallet and Company, creator of perfumes for the courts of Imperial Russia. He eventually settled in Paris in 1919. He was introduced to Coco Chanel by the Grand Duke Dmitri Pavlovich of Russia, giving rise to a very successful and prodigious professional alliance.

Chanel’s Cuir starts out with a familiar burst of hesperidic aldehydes, which will be immediately familiar to devotees of Chanel No 5. But where No 5 softens to reveal a floral heart, Cuir de Russie unleashes a series of provocative notes: the sweet and acrid tobacco, an animalic fur note complete with a touch of mothballs, as though an elegant old coat had been taken out of storage in preparation for winter. The heart is an elegant floral composition which also feels like familiar Chanel territory, the finest examples of jasmine, rose and ylang ylang available. The fragrance culminates in the beauty of leather, the softest, most supple leather imaginable, and yet through its smoky darkness, retains a touch of the soft floral heart.

This review is based upon both the vintage parfum and the reformulated version available from the Chanel Les Exclusifs line. Both are phenomenal, with the parfum revealing more of the depth and beauty of the animalic leather notes and the eau de toilette possessing more of the life of aldehydes.

Leather Oriental

Notes: Orange Blossom, Bergamot,  Mandarin, Jasmine, Rose, Ylang-Ylang and Birchwood

Guerlain – Aqua Allegoria Rosa Magnifica

Guerlain – Aqua Allegoria Rosa Magnifica

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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. coral-rose

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

Christian Dior – Dune

christian-dior-dune-kristina-semenovskaya_thumb[3]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

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

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.

 

Chanel – Égoïste

Chanel – Égoïste

egoiste

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!

 

Guerlain – Shalimar

Guerlain – Shalimar: Taking Risks

art_deco_perfume_bottle_guerlain_shalimar

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.

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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…

cropwm 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.

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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.

 

Carven – Ma Griffe

Carven – Ma Griffe

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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 ma griffetheir 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.