Christian Dior – Diorella

Posted on April 3, 2013 by Leah

Christian Dior – Diorella

If Diorella had a face, it would be the exquisite beauty of Jane Fonda in Roger Vadim’s 1968 sci-fi, B-movie masterpiece Barbarella. Both reflect a beauty which is disarming, innocent, sensual and yet somewhat strange. Dior released Diorella in 1972, yet another masterpiece created by Edmond Roudnitska.

Diorella first tempts you with the freshness of lemony greens rounded out with a touch of melon and floral notes, giving the opening a hint of ripeness. Were it to end there, Diorella would have been an attractive, linear warm-weather fragrance, perfect for after a shower. But as is often the case with great beauty, Diorella has an underlying complexity which must be experienced if its beauty is to be fully appreciated.

Regardless of how many times I smell the opening, I am always surprised by a sense of underlying strangeness just beneath the surface, not unlike smelling an approaching storm before one feels the first drop. As the top dissipates, a savory note of basil begins pushing toward the surface, which seems both out of place and brilliant, hinting at the richness of soil which lies underneath. Diorella is not unlike a flower blooming in reverse, its petals collapsing onto themselves and rolling up into the stem, which then plunges below the surface back into its damp, musky bulb. Diorella takes its time unfolding, each layer becoming increasingly sensual as the earthiness of oakmoss and vetiver settle down into the warmth of patchouli and musk.

If Diorella had sisters (or daughters perhaps), for me they would be Calyx Prescriptives and Cristalle for their green ripeness and Ma Griffe for its mossy magnificence.

Chypre

Notes: Lemon, Peach, Basil, Bergamot, Melon, Green Notes, Honeysuckle, Jasmine, Violet, Rose Bud, Carnation, Cyclamen, Oakmoss, Vanilla, Clove, Sandalwood, Vetiver, Musk, and Patchouli.

Cartier – Eau de Cartier Goutte de Rose

Posted on March 3, 2013 by Leah

Cartier – Eau de Cartier Goutte de Rose

Twelve years after the launch of their best-selling Eau de Cartier, Cartier has released Eau de Cartier Goutte de Rose, the latest flanker in the line that brought us Eau de Cartier Essence de Bois (2011) and Eau de Cartier Essence d’Orange (2010). The January 2013 release is sure to be extremely popular as the temperature rises, as it is a light and easy-to-wear fragrance. On the morning I went to obtain my sample, the SA at my local Sephora had sold 8 bottles within the first 20 minutes of opening.

Goutte de Rose is based on the general Eau de Cartier storyline, a light woodsy fragrance with a touch of amber. Goutte de Rose which translates as “drop of rose” is true to its name, adding a slight rose note to the original creation. The fragrance has a crisp green opening which feels similar to the house’s other creations but more mellow in scope. The rose quickly comes to the forefront, though it very light, as though one entered a room and smelled a bouquet of roses set on a mantelpiece from afar.

As the fragrance settles, the original Eau de Cartier makes its appearance as the fragrance takes on a woody character, warmed by amber and a light vanilla note. The rose seems to hover in and out of focus, but on my skin the wood and amber are predominant. Eau de Cartier Goutte de Rose was created by the uber-talented Mathilde Laurent, in-house perfumer for Cartier since 2005. Goutte de Rose is a lovely, light fragrance that reflects the understated elegance of this house. I only wish Goutte de Rose had a little more heft. For a comparison of Eau de Cartier Goutte de Rose against other current rose releases, be sure to check out the review by Bois de Jasmin.

Floral

Mathilde Laurent

Notes: Rose, woods, amber and vanilla

Serge Lutens – Chypre Rouge

Posted on March 1, 2013 by Leah

Serge Lutens – Chypre Rouge

It is said that there is a fine line between madness and genius. Nowhere is this more apparent in the world of modern perfumery than in the creative duo of Serge Lutens and Christopher Sheldrake. Even the most classically beautiful of the fragrances in the Serge Lutens line have an underlying tension and subversity which make them fascinating at best and challenging at worst, but never, ever mundane.

Chypre Rouge was released by Serge Lutens in 2006 as part of his export line. I found this to be an interesting move, since the house generally releases those fragrances fit for U.S. (i.e. less sophisticated) consumption, and by many accounts, Chypre Rouge can be a challenging scent. Out of the bottle, Chypre Rouge smells thick: a plummy, jammy, spicy mash that feels more like something you would spread on toast than an actual perfume. The spices invoke all of the warmth and opulence of Lutens’s beloved Marrakech, and makes me feel completely transported. True to its name and hue, Chypre Rouge smells deeply red and calls to mind autumn leaves on the forest floor, damp and musky, with a hint of decay, sweet and pervasive like dense maple syrup.

On skin, however, the fragrance tells a different story. Similar to his Tubereuse Criminelle, Chypre Rouge’s opening belies a softer, more accessible fragrance underneath. As the intense oriental opening diminshes, the spices simmer down to a mere whisper, allowing a soft, sweet and slightly creamy woods to emerge with notes of honey and vanilla. It is in these deeper, twilight hours, that we experience the chypre aspect of the fragrance, as a light mossiness overtakes the dense immortelle-like scent, creating a sedcutive, silky veil. The sillage follows suit, wearing closer and closer to the skin as the hours pass, though as a Lutens creation, it is tenacious.

As I have found to be the case with other fragrances in the Lutens line, the aspect which I initially find most defiant in the fragrance ultimately becomes my favorite. Hours into the more demure drydown, I find myself missing the heady, viscous opening, leading me to carry around a sample vial whenever I wear it to recapture the initial assault. My sincere thanks to Messrs. Lutens and Sheldrake for creating provocative fragrances that push our limits, for it is through this olfactive adversity that we grow.

Oriental Chypre

Notes: thyme, pine needles, honey, beeswax, jasmine, patchouli, vanilla, moss, amber, musk

Lancôme – La Vie Est Belle

Posted on February 27, 2013 by Leah

Lancôme – La Vie Est Belle

I anticipated the release of La Vie Est Belle with great excitement. It was developed by Olivier Polge, Dominique Ropion and Anne Flipo, a formidable team. Iris is one of my favorite notes for the ghostly, earthy, and chilling aspect it lends to perfumes and La Vie Est Belle was touted as “the first ever iris gourmand”. While there are other perfume houses that could dispute that claim, as an iris lover, this sounded profoundly promising. Nothing surpasses the beauty or elegance of iris in Guerlain’s Apres L’Ondee, Chanel’s 28 La Pausa or Serge Luten’s Iris Silver Mist. Yet despite numerous attempts and testing on blotter and skin alike, I have yet to detect any discernable iris note.

La Vie Est Belle created a bit of a dilemma for me. Perhaps I have been lulled by the fragrance’s cheerful demeanor or predictable plotline. Yes, La Vie Est Belle is well-made, more-so than many of the numerous fragrances I pass on the fragrance counters. And as must be the case with a perfume that seems to loosely follow the formula of the more seductive Angel by Thierry Mugler and the more refined Coco Mademoiselle, La Vie Est Belle is pretty. Perhaps that is where the problem lies. La Vie Est Belle feels like the pretty girl at the party who is quite nice but perhaps a bit lacking in intellect. She smiles so sweetly, perhaps a little too sweetly, I want to like her, but after speaking to her for five minutes I am terribly bored. When I look around the room, there seem to be several girls who look quite a bit like her, but perhaps have a more sultry or rebellious side that maintains my interest.

The fragrance moves along the fruit-flowers-patchouli track, hitting you all the while with a gourmand accord of vanilla, tonka and praline. Had the iris note been truly prominent, this fragrance would have stood a greater chance of achieving olfactory immortality. Without it, it’s just another pretty face in the fragrance crowd. The fragrance does possess an incredible sillage and lasting power however as my blotters were still going strong the next day. La Vie Est Belle is a nicely-done fruitchouli, a bit overpowering and forgettable for my taste, but it did win the popular vote in Fragantica‘s 2012 community poll. If you don’t have any fragrances in this genre and Angel and Coco Mademoiselle are too bold for you, La Vie Est Belle may work for you.

Gourmand

Notes: Iris pallida, iris aldehyde, jasmine, orange blossom, patchouli, vanilla, tonka bean, praline, black currant and pear.

Coty – Les Muses

Posted on February 17, 2013 by Leah

Coty – Les Muses

Continuing with the Coty theme this week, the last Coty fragrance that I was fortunate enough to obtain a sample of was Les Muses. Based on the research I did, it appears that Les Muses is the 1986 adaptation of an earlier Coty fragrance known simply as “Muse” which was released in 1945. Unfortunately, I do not have a copy of the pre-1980s release to compare it to, but it is my understanding that Coty reissues are not always necessarily true to original form. Les Muses was re-released along with Le Rose Jacqueminot and Chypre.

My overall impression of Les Muses is of a sweet, fruity, floral underpinned by a slight animalic and woody base. While I could not locate any official notes for the fragrance, most prominent is a melange of peach, tuberose and jasmine, supported by heady white florals. While Les Muses had the potential to be a terrific fragrance, this one unfortunately failed to fully capture my heart. While the white floral notes had a nice phenolic aspect (tar-like smell), once the base set in and the revealed a vanilla and amber duo, the fragrance had simply become too sweet. The fragrance seemed top-heavy and lacking in a stabilizing force. While animalic notes in a fragrance can often serve to offset sweetness, the amber (and perhaps musk) utilized were not of sufficient quality to balance the fragrance. If you, like me, enjoy the odd sweet tar-like smell of certain florals, the Shiseido’s Zen is a better option.

Fruity Floral

Notes: Peach, Jasmine, Tuberose, White Florals, Vanilla, Amber, Woods and Musk

Coty – Ex`cla-ma`tion

Posted on February 15, 2013 by Leah

Coty – Ex`cla-ma`tion

Continuing with the Coty theme this week, Ex`cla-ma`tion was launched by Coty in 1988 and is truly a product of its time. Ex`cla-ma`tion was created by Sophia Grojsman, the extraordinary nose behind such innovative fragrances as Estée Lauder White Linen (1978), Prescriptives Calyx (1987), Calvin Klein Eternity (1988) and Lancôme Trésor (1990). One of the hallmarks of Grojsman’s creative process is her ability to weave groundbreaking scents out of minimal ingredients. While it is not uncommon for perfumes to be a formulation of hundreds of different scents, Grojsman’s typical fragrance may contain fewer than 10.

While violet is not listed anywhere in the official notes, my overall impression of Ex`cla-ma`tion is of a powdery, light, woodsy violet with vanilla overtones. The fragrance opens with a fruity mix of apricot and peach, brightened by the effervescence of bergamot and green notes. The beauty of Ex`cla-ma`tion appears in its middle notes, a combination of orris root, jasmine, heliotrope, lily-of-the-valley and rose, which together create a light, innocent floral sensation. As the base notes appear, the main impression is of a lush vanilla rounded out by woods thanks to sandalwood and cedar. The woodsy impression is enhanced by notes of amber and musk, however, the fragrance maintains an overall floral character.

Ex`cla-ma`tion would be perfect for a young woman just beginning to explore the world of perfumery. It is delicate enough to be age-appropriate, and yet has sufficient depth to serve as a gateway perfume.

Floral

Notes: apricot, green notes, peach, bergamot, orris root, jasmine, heliotrope, lily-of-the-valley, rose, sandalwood, amber, cinnamon, musk, vanilla and cedar.

Chanel – Coco Noir

Posted on January 29, 2013 by Leah

Coco Noir – The Unloved Chanel

I must start this post with a disclaimer: I adore all things Chanel to a fault. In fact, my friends joke that I must be Gabrielle Bonheur reincarnate, so great is my passion for Chanel products, history, and tidbits. With perhaps the exception of a couple of male fragrance flankers, the truth remains that Chanel reigns supreme.

That being said, I was surprised to find so many bloggers disappointed (almost to the point of distress), with Chanel’s latest release, Coco Noir. While I understand some of their frustrations given the pre-release marketing descriptions of this product as the ultimate in Byzantine black magic, my interpretation of this fragrance was radically different.

Finding that it is always best to start at the beginning, let’s get one thing straight. Coco Noir is not, and shall never be, Coco. Coco was born in 1984 and as such, embodied all of the characteristics of that era. Noted for its sillage which often entered a room before its wearer did, Coco reflected the larger than life ideals of the 1980s. While most categorize this era as one of opulence, I would argue that another defining factor of this era was a certain innocence and hopefulness. The 1980s saw sweeping social and economic changes as a result of newly industrializing economies, creating a prevailing sense of unstoppable wealth and prosperity. Similar to other fragrances born after times of strife, the focus was on celebration and expression. This was a time when we were just being introduced to life-changing inventions such as the cell phone and Walkman, and we were exhilarated. Little did we know how these devices, then in their infancy stages, would propel us into a super-fast moving and “connected” society which would ironically erode all the time they attempted to save. The 1980s was a time characterized by luxurious enjoyment and contemplation, as opposed to the more immediate gratification desires of our current era. Perfume could take its time unfolding and wafting its charms as opposed to today’s mandate: “Need. Scent. Now”.

The majority of the reviews I read bemoaned the fact that Coco Noir was not Coco, instead of celebrating the fact that it was not Coco Mademoiselle. While Coco Noir does nod in the direction of its candy-coated sister born in 2001, I saw Coco Noir as Chanel’s attempt to claw back the territory away from the sugary lollipop flower fruit-choulis that have come to dominate the landscape, and drag the consumer back to a place of complexity, even if by baby steps only.

While Coco Noir’s top notes of grapefruit and bergamot sparkle in typical Chanel fashion, the reference is more to the newer Chanel creations under the direction of Jacques Polge than either of his predecessors. This is no magical aldehydic veil a la Chanel 22. Contained within the Chanel heart of rose and jasmine are narcissus and rose geranium leaf, which lend the fragrance a subtle spicy quality, though far different from the warm clove heart of the original Coco. The effect of warmth is enhanced once the base notes of musk, tonka bean, sandalwood, and vanilla take over.

Present throughout is the patchouli. While I understand that it is challenging to disassociate this scent from its current popular and often warped interpretations, patchouli was historically regarded as an exotic fragrance, frequently utilized in opulent incenses. Here then is the reference to the original Coco, and to Chanel’s “Coromandel culture” as referenced by Mr. Polge. The reference to Coco is not literal, only figurative. One must read between the lines. While the longevity is superior to some of Chanel’s more recent releases, it does not possess the tenacity of Coco. It does stay with me through a workday, though by the afternoon I can be caught pressing my nose to my sleeve.

While Coco conveys the organic warmth and fluidity of caramel brown, Coco Noir embodies the spirit of black: defined, contained and discrete. Where Coco is a warm cashmere wrap over a sumptuous silk blouse pulled together with a thick gold necklace, Coco Noir is a well-tailored black velvet jacket. Coco Noir hovers close to the skin unlike its sisters, creating a very personal and intimate experience of warmth, precisely what I need on days when all of my “modern” inventions are driving me to distraction.

Oriental

Notes: grapefruit, bergamot, rose, jasmine, narcissus, rose geranium leaf, musk, tonka bean, sandalwood, and vanilla.

Lucien Lelong – Balalaika

Posted on January 26, 2013 by Leah

Lucien Lelong – Balalaika

One of the advantages of having friends who share an interest in perfumery, is the exponentially increased access to various fragrances, especially vintage or niche items. A friend of mine recently acquired a bottle of Balalaika by Lucien Lelong and was kind enough to allow me to sample for review purposes. Named for a three-stringed, triangular, Russian folk instrument, the name alone held the promise of the exotic.

Lucien Lelong was a French coutourier who gained considerable popularity between the 1920s and 1940s. He favored a fluid, draping style for women, one that would move with its wearer. As a result, many of his creations appear distinctly modern today. Lelong did not create his own designs, rather, he oversaw and directed a team of designers which included Christian Dior at one point. He is credited with rescuing the Parisian fashion scene from forced migration to Berlin during the Nazi occupation, arguing that talent of this quality and calibre had taken generations to develop, and could not simply be reproduced or taught overnight. The Lelong house began producing fine fragrances in 1924 and is still in existence today.

While Balalaika did not smell too promising to me upon first application, my patience was rewarded. While I do not have another sample for comparison purposes, my impression was that the Mandarin top note may have deteriorated slightly, as it came across a bit brash and pungent. This impression was brief however as the fragrance soon took on a lovely warm character. At the heart of Balalaika is an earthy, woodsy quality made lush by a combination of rosewood, gardenia and violet, just as the name might indicate. The wood and musk basenotes appeared fairly early on, giving the fragrance a distinct earthy odor, reminiscent of ancient tomes in a vast library. Despite the strong opening, the fragrance is fairly mild-mannered and light, however, I only tested the Cologne concentration. While the fragrance lasted through the day, it wore close to the skin, with minimal sillage. I have no doubt that Balalaika’s unique combination of woods and flowers would be exquisite in a parfum concentration, but for now, I will have to content myself with my imagination.

Natalie Paley, wife and muse of Lucien Lelong

While many vintage perfumes are still widely discussed, I have seen little mention of Balalaika. It may be that the musty, earthy quality renders it too “dated” for some but it nevertheless is an artful creation and one which I consider myself supremely fortunate to have experienced.

Notes: Gardenia, Woods, Mandarin, Musk, Rosewood, Vanilla, Violet

Knize Ten

Posted on January 25, 2013 by Leah

Knize Ten

I have found that some of my most passionate and enduring olfactory affairs have started out on an intense note along the lines of “what IS that?” While I am by no means drawn to flash, there are those fragrances whose openings are so unique as to create an indelible imprint, one that I often crave to smell again and again once the initial blast has subsided and the more delicate drydown commences. Like the sultry stranger who catches your eyes across the room with a smoldering glance, only later to become your devoted and domesticated bedfellow, so it is with Knize Ten.

Knize Ten is one of several fragrances introduced by the Knize fashion design house out of Austria. The fragrance made its debut in 1925 and is still in circulation. The current version is by most accounts fairly true to the original vintage version, making it a gem among fragrances. Indeed, even the clean and simple design of the bottle and crisp black and white packaging are both timeless and supremely modern. While Knize Ten (roughly pronounced kuh-knee-shuh) features the byline of “The Gentleman’s Toilet Water”, it is largely a misnomer, since it is not particularly “gentlemanly”, nor does it suffer from poor staying power. In fact, the opening notes of this reference leather fragrance are slightly reminiscent of a leather bomber jacket strutting around a gas station. Small wonder then that this was rumored to be the signature fragrance of none-other-than James Dean.

Knize Ten starts out with a slightly bitter citrus note of bergamot and petitgrain (derived from the leaves of the bitter orange tree), which to my nose has a greener smell further enhanced by a savory note of rosemary. The opening is potent and somewhat suggestive of gasoline. While this may sound off-putting, it is this very unique introduction to what ultimately becomes a warm and somewhat powdery vanillic leather, that I find most appealing. While the dry heart note is largely woody, for me the most prominent notes are a sharp patchouli and green jasmine which reinforce the rich leather aspect. While the Knize Ten “gentleman” may come on rather strong initially, he quickly shows his soft side. The sharpness of the leather is smoothed out by orris and deepened by ambergris and castor which lend it a slightly animalic, body smell. While François Coty and Vincent Roubert designed this as a men’s fragrance to accompany the elegant and slightly off-beat bespoke designs of Knize, this can easily be worn by a woman in the style of a Tabac Blond. The bracing opening and softening drydown feel like a lingering embrace from a not-so-gentlemanly gentleman.

Ultimate Leather

Notes: Lemon, bergamot, orange, petitgrain, rosemary, geranium, rose, cedar, orris, carnation, cinnamon, orange blossom, sandalwood, leather, musk, moss, patchouli, ambergris, castoreum and vanilla.

Guerlain – Chamade

Posted on January 24, 2013 by Leah

Guerlain – Chamade

A good friend of mine is from Iceland, which like any country, features an unique culinary tradition. Given the island’s reliance on the fishing industry, much of their cuisine revolves around fish, although their excellent dairy places a close second. Since we first met each other toward the end of the year, the subject of holiday meals came up. Always eager to learn about a new culture, I asked my friend if there were any special dishes that were eaten on the holidays, conjuring visions of holiday recipe-swapping. The response was not quite what I was expecting: fermented stingray. After clarifying that this was not a joke, my friend went on to explain that stingray was traditionally prepared by Iceland’s Viking ancestors by burying a dead stingray and letting it “ferment” (her word, mine “rot”). While I will spare you the minute details, the ammonia contained within the stingray’s body essentially “cooks” the fish, not unlike a ceviche. Needless to say, I would not be preparing this in my kitchen anytime soon.

When I asked my friend if she liked it, she said “Not the first time. The first time it smelled so awful, I thought I might get sick”. The use of the term “first time” implied that there was a second or even numerous times. She explained that while it was an acquired taste, after the initial opening stench of ammonia, the stingray was delicious. I was baffled! How did she get past that offensive opening and come to love this strange creation? It made no sense to me. And then I realized it did: Chamade.

While I am a lover of bright, intense openings and even more so a lover of Guerlain, in all honesty I must admit that the first time I smelled Chamade I thought that someone, somewhere had made a mistake and filled this beautiful, inverted heart bottle with nail polish remover. While I adore several fragrances which feature prominent hyacinth notes (Chanel’s Cristalle and No 19, Balmain’s Vent Vert) they are tempered by the introduction of other elements. Not so with Chamade. The combination of hyacinth with galbanum and blackcurrent created an opening that cut through the air like a sharp green saber which showed no signs of relenting. I put the bottle back, far into the darkest reaches of my perfume cabinet, untested.

But something didn’t feel right about walking away from this fragrance, named after the distinctive pitter-pat of a heart in love, a nod at the Françoise Sagan novel and French film by the same name starring none-other-than Catherine Deneuve. So many had waxed poetic about its charms, and the skill of the then-young Jean-Paul Guerlain, I felt I must be missing something. I had read the fragrance notes, and I knew there was a Guerlain accord hiding in there somewhere, if I could just steel my reserve and do the unthinkable: test it on skin.

Needless to say, I was rewarded. Chamade perfectly captures the cool detachment of attraction and the growing warmth of love, but its beauty is only revealed to the patient suitor. The intense opening was merely the awkward, butterflies-in-your-stomach feeling that proceeds the sweetest and most passionate of kisses. Chamade slowly unfolds into a soft floral base of rose, ylang ylang, jasmine, lilac, and lily of the valley: for every great romance must have its tenderness. As the fragrance settles further, drawing heat from the skin, the magic of Guerlain is revealed in a soft, velvety base of vanilla, amber, iris and woods: for every great love must have its warmth. And as we overlook the idiosyncrasies of our most beloved, I am finally able to embrace the sharp opening, knowing that a warm embrace awaits me.

Floral oriental

Notes of Turkish rose, ylang ylang, jasmine, lilac, blackcurrant, lily of the valley, hyacinth, cassis, galbanum, sandalwood, vetiver, vanilla, musk, amber, iris and tonka bean.

Quintessence

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