Gucci – Rush

Gucci Rush

Gucci Rush

Like many dedicated perfumistas, my fragrance collection spans a wide variety of genres: from the ultra-rare and “très cher” to the timeless and chic, without discrimination for cost, high or low as it may be. After all there are still bargain fragrances out there, and while the folks at Chanel would have us forget, there was a time when Chanel No 5 could be found in drugstores.

All of this by way of introduction. While some fragrances are no doubt contemplative à la Serge Lutens or intellectual (here’s looking at you Guerlain), we must all leave a bit of room for pure, unadultered joy.

No fragrance lends itself better to this category in my opinion than Gucci Rush. Though it has references to some of the great classics, like Mitsouko and Diorella, they are delivered with the tongue in cheek, larger-than-could-possibly-be-tasteful style of Gucci under Tom Ford’s reign.

Gucci Rush starts off with a blast reminiscent of hairspray and fruit – in fact it feels like poking your head into a young woman’s room as she is preparing for a fun night out with friends: scented bath gel, fruity shampoo, hairspray, perfume and body lotion. Rush is like a cacophony of scents that should not work together but absolutely do, as evidenced by the number of suitors this young woman has attracted after a night of dancing.

Rush’s white florals are sparkling and playful, leaving the heavier indoles to its more serious floral sisters. A hint of coriander lends dry spice and drama to the fragrance and keeps it from veering into a traditional fruity floral. The drydown is pure, if not strange, olfactory heaven.

Rush morphs into a synthetic milky peach which lacks Mitsouko’s solemnity but is nevertheless beautiful. Similar to Dior’s Diorella, Rush’s peach is warmed and mellowed by patchouli, but Rush manages to maintain a modern, slightly plasticky edge.

Rush is a terrific fragrance for going out, or for those days when the gravity of life is too much to handle. Despite the beauty and elegance of its composition, Rush does not take itself too seriously (as evidenced by it’s plastic, cassette-like flacon) and maintains a joyful edge.

While with most posts I search for an image to convey the visual equivalent of the olfactory sensation, Rush couldn’t be contained to a two-dimensional image. Embedded then is a link to a remix of French singer Yelle’s “A Cause de Garçons” – the perfect combination of fun, trash, brash and the simple joy of movement. What a genius Michel Almairac has proven to be.

Notes: Gardenia, Freesia, Jasmine, Rose, Coriander, Vanilla, Patchouli, Vetiver.

 

Nina Ricci – Farouche

Nina Ricci – Farouche

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The Nina Ricci fragrance line is one that I did not traditionally have much exposure to growing up, as none of the women in my family wore it. I did have a distant aunt who sometimes wore L’Air du Temps, but we’ll save that for another post. No wonder then that the house’s 1973 release Farouche failed to catch my attention until now (there were after all plenty of other fragrances to keep me busy).

I recently purchased an assortment of vintage perfume minis, and one fragrance included in the assortment was Nina Ricci’s Farouche in the Eau de Toilette concentration. While I have a decent knowledge of French, I will admit that I was not familiar with the word “Farouche”. Interestingly, I did not look it up until after I had tested the fragrance several times, fearing it might skew my impression. In that vein, I will keep its meaning silent until the end of the post.

Farouche opens with some fizzy aldehydes adding lift to a soft orange and galbanum melange. While galbanum fragrances generally make weak in the knees, Farouche comes on like a whisper. The heart unfolds to a gentle floral bouquet of jasmine, lily-of-the-valley and geranium, to which iris lends a hint of powder, While carnation and clary sage add a bit of a twist, Farouche’s overall character remains moderate. The fragrance wafts up again after a about an hour or so, revealing a mossy, vetiver base, reminiscent of classics such as Ma Griffe, but executed with a subtle hand.

In fact, my main issue with Farouche was its faint presence, which made an otherwise lovely fragrance with all of the hallmarks of a classic, slightly forgettable in the face of other mossy, green giants. That being said, this lightness of character would make it a perfect scent for someone just starting to explore the genre, as it touches on all of the aspects of a mossy green floral. I can only imagine how lovely the parfum concentration must be, though I have heard that is subtle as well. The Eau de Toilette bottle is lovely, with its slender neck is reminiscent of a swan, while the flacon for the parfum (reportedly made by Lalique) resembles a heart.

And in case you are still wondering (and have not searched for it yourself), Farouche translates as shy. Perfect.

Floral Aldehyde

Notes: Aldehydes, Mandarin, Bergamot, Galbanum, Peach, Honeysuckle, Carnation, Iris, Lily, Clary Sage, Jasmine, Lily-of-the-Valley, Rose, Geranium, Cardamom, Sandalwood, Amber, Musk, Oakmoss, Vetiver.

 

Guerlain – Nahéma

Guerlain – Nahéma

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Still from Benjamin ou les Mémoires d’un Puceau”

“Mon grand-père Jacques m’a dit un jour:

‘Mon petit, n’oublie jamais que l’on crée toujours des parfums pour les femmes qu’on aime, qu’on admire et avec lesquelles on vit’

Et c’est comme cela que tout a commencé.”

 

“One day my grandfather Jacques said to me

‘My little one, never forget that one always creates perfumes for the women one loves, admires and those with whom one lives.’

And that is how it all began.”

So begins the book “Parfums d’Amour” by Jean-Paul Guerlain, in which he describes the journeys, both literal and figurative, he undertook to arrive at his fragrant creations and the women who inspired him. Although the story behind the inspiration for Nahéma does not appear in Parfums d’Amour, this introduction could not more perfectly describe the fragrance, which along with Jicky, is perhaps among the more well-known of Jean-Paul’s amorous anecdotes.

What would a perfume inspired by the paragon of beauty, Catherine Deneuve, smell of? For Jean-Paul Guerlain, whose 1979 fragrance Nahema was inspired by the award-winning, supremely talented and breathtakingly beautiful actress, the answer was simple. The archetypal symbol of romantic love: the rose. And what a rose he created.

Legend has it that Jean-Paul made 138 attempts at the creation before reaching perfection. Nahéma, which translates as “born of fire” or the “fiery one” is an incredibly ripe, lush rose.  With its plummy and peachy facets, which give the fragrance a fullness and ripeness well beyond a simple soliflore, he achieved a rose so compelling that it takes on a nearly three-dimensional aspect. While rose fragrances are often dismissed as being “old-fashioned”, Hyacinth adds a delicious tension to the fragrance, making this a rose that could never be mistaken for anything less than a sexpot.

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While I do not find Nahema to be particularly “fiery”, there are oriental aspects which when combined with the ripe fruit notes and Ylang-Ylang suggest a degree of feminine intimacy, not unlike Rochas Femme. Much like a young Catherine Deneuve, Nahéma is inexplicably lush and sensual, like a woman in a crimson velvet gown full of voluptuous curves.

Notes: Peach, Bergamot, Citrus Notes, Aldehydes, Green Notes, Rose, Jasmine, Lilac, Hyacinth, Lily of the Valley, Ylang-Ylang, Peru Balsam, Vanilla, Vetiver, Sandalwood

Robert Piguet – Baghari

Robert Piguet – Baghari

Woman in Fur

While we often have a mental picture of the 1950s as a time of feminine restraint, the fragrances of that era paint a different picture altogether. Perhaps due to the fact that woman essentially inhabited a different sphere than men, far away from stuffy office corridors with their recycled air, their perfumes seemed to have some lifeblood in them. Even the airy aldehydic florals had something hefty lurking within to give them a backbone.

When Francis Fabron’s vintage Baghari walks into a room, she commands attention. The opening aldehydes have a kick to them, as they heave rather than sparkle. The waxy, tallow-like opening has an orange-amber richness similar to Caron’s Nocturnes and Givenchy’s L’Interdit, interestingly another fragrance created by Fabron.

Baghari Robert Piguet

The opening is suggestive of the animalic undercurrent of the fragrance to follow, and while Baghari reveals a bosomy floral bouquet, it shares a complexity with Piguet’s Bandit by Germaine Cellier – the hint of something beneath the surface.

The fragrance, like others of its time, is remarkably well-constructed and gives an impression of roundness and depth, like an embrace from an old friend on a cold night, the scent of her fur tinged with perfume and smoke to create a scent that is more than the sum of its parts, the scent of a woman.

Baghari was reformulated by Aurélien Guichard and while the fragrance is suggestive of the original Baghari, it lacks its driving force and personality. Still, it makes a lovely daytime companion for stuffy office corridors.

Notes: Aldehydes, Bergamot, Citrus, Rose, Lilac, Ylang-Ylang, Lily of the Valley, Jasmine, Vetiver, Benzoin, Musk, Amber, Vanilla.

Yves Saint Laurent – Champagne / Yvresse

Yves Saint Laurent – Champagne / Yvresse

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Nothing conveys a sense of luxury and celebration quite like champagne: the excitement of its bubbles, crisp effervescence and intoxicating aroma. Fragrance names are often selected to invoke a certain imagery or romanticism, and Yves Saint Laurent’s 1993 release was no exception. Depsite the legal battle which ensued over the fragrance’s name when the Comité Interprofessionnel du vin de Champagne sought to protect the cultural heritage of the beverage, there is nothing particularly controversial about the fragrance. It is simply luxurious, bright and perhaps a touch heady in the way of its namesake.

The opening bursts with a quick progression of notes which mimics rising champagne bubbles in a glass. Pungent nectarine, deep rose, a touch of anise and violet compete for top billing. For those who are wary of the cumin note, fear not. While the cumin adds a slight earthy quality to the fragrance which mimics the bite of champagne, it is not very distinct, and much less apparent than in the reformulated Rochas Femme.

champagne glasses

The fragrance’s heart reveals an accord that will seem familiar to Sophia Grojsman fans, as she presents another variation on her fruity rose trick. I prefer Champagne’s composition to that of her other opus Lancôme Trésor, as it feels more balanced when juxtaposed against a classical chypre base of oakmoss, patchouli, vetiver and vanilla.

Champagne’s spin on chypre is extremely accessible and quite lovely. Despite the musty, earthy smell which oakmoss can sometimes lend to a composition, Champagne manages to remain bright and light. While the fragrance certainly alludes to such classics as Mitsouko and Rochas Femme with the interplay between fruit and chypre, Champagne seems like the light-hearted, blonde younger sister of these two dark-haired beauties. Champagne in turn appears to have influenced modern perfumery, as one can glimpse hints of its structure in Chanel’s 31 Rue Cambon.

Champagne, later re-named Yvresse as a play on the French “ivresse” or “intoxication”, is an easy-to-wear, exuberant fragrance. No matter what the occasion or indeed the outfit, that always makes me feel elegant and in the mood to celebrate.

Fruity Chypre

Notes: Nectarine, Anise, Mint, Violet, Cumin, Rose, Lychee, Oakmoss, Patchouli, Vetiver, Vanilla.

Serge Lutens – Fille en Aiguilles

Serge Lutens – Fille en Aiguilles

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Vincent Van Gogh

 

It seems unbelievable that December is upon us. Winter calls to mind snowy evenings by the fire with a mug of warm spiced tea, after a brisk walk though a pine forest, where the cold night air traps a scent and suspends it in its icy fingers. And while it may not be even remotely cold where I live, the humidity has diminished, and the thermometer has been gracious enough to dip to the point where my favorite winter scents can make their debut.

Serge Lutens is the master of intellectual perfumes, ones which weave an olfactory story. Fille en Aiguilles is no exception, and yet it creates more a sense of atmosphere than a story alone. But how to create a fragrance based on the notes of pine, incense, candied fruit and spices without creating a cliché?

Released in 2009, Fille en Aiguilles is true to the Lutens/Sheldrake formula of combining disparate notes that cannot possibly belong together in any cogent manner, and turning up their more difficult aspects beyond the point of discomfort until they positively soar. Fille en Aiguilles starts out with a candied fruit note reminiscent of wintry holidays that will feel familiar to Lutens fans. It is rendered here with more subtlety than Arabie or Chypre Rouge, as though the intent were to envelop the wearer in a blanket of comfort rather than provoke or shock.

Botanical-Pine-cones

The fruit quickly fades to a forest full of pine and fir notes, warmed with wintry spices, which carry on the opening theme of candied fruit. Pine is a note I never imagined loving in a fragrance, as it could so easily become unimaginative, but here it is rendered with such elegance and creativity, it is difficult not to fall under its spell.

Then Fille en Aiguilles, which roughly translates to “girl in stilettos”, shows us her Lutensian edge with a bit of the camphorous halo many of us have come to love, though rendered with far more delicacy than in his explosive Tubereuse Criminelle. Detractors fear not, the effect is subtle and further subdued by beautiful frankincense. The combined effect is stunning, enveloping the wearer in a soft, smoky haze, much like a tender embrace on a cold winter’s night.

Notes: Pine Needles, Vetiver, Sugary Sap, Laurel, Fir Balsam, Frankincense, Candied Fruit, Spice.

Guerlain – Mitsouko

Guerlain – Mitsouko

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Despite being named after the heroine in Claude Farrère’s novel “La Bataille”, if each perfume symbolizes a woman, Mitsouko would have to be the mythological Eve, the first woman and mother of all. For it is in her composition that we can find the DNA for many beloved and wildly successful perfumes including Rochas Femme, Diorama, Youth Dew, Opium and Coco Chanel. Mitsouko was the astounding creation of Jacques Guerlain. Reflecting the world’s fascination with Chypre by Coty, a ground-breaking creation which combined the somewhat odd bedfellows of bergamot, jasmine, labdanum and oakmoss into what would ultimately become a new fragrance category, Guerlain took this novel concept one step further with the introduction of a warm, creamy, ripe peach note. The original Chypre is often described as being a bit rough around the edges, a quandary solved by Guerlain with the introduction of the newly-discovered Gamma-Undecalactone, also known as Aldehyde C-14. Without getting overly technical, there is some debate over the use of the aldehyde reference to C-14, which is technically a lactone, a term which refers both to the molecule’s structure as well as to its fragrance which often has a creamy (milky) scent. Aldehydes are often used to give a fragrance that special opening “sparkle” (imagine the first moments of Chanel No 5), whereas C 14 has a very specific golden peach tone. Nomenclature aside, the introduction of this molecule beautifully rounded out the more angular structure of Chypre into an unforgettable masterpiece.

Mitsouko is at once bold and soft, womanly and earthy. It is the smell of the fall, the warmth and spice of cinnamon and the odd sweetness of decomposing leaves. Its beauty is, quite simply, astounding. While Mitsouko is perhaps one of the most beloved and written about fragrances, it can often be a difficult one to approach if one is just developing their appreciation of vintage or more complex scents. Thanks in part to the inclusion of oakmoss, a popular perfume fixative before restrictions limited its use, Mitsouko has a certain musty smell reminiscent of library books which some find challenging upon first sniff. Ironically, it is the diminution of this same note in the modern, reformulated version, that many perfume enthusiasts bemoan the loss of.

Approaching perfume is not unlike learning about wine: at first, one’s palate can more readily appreciate simpler, sweeter wines, but with time, one is able to appreciate the dry and more complex varieties. So it is with Mitsouko, so be sure to give it some time if you are unable to love it right away – this is one of the perfumes most worth knowing. While many have followed in her steps, Mitsouko is perhaps the finest example of the Chypre genre, if not one of the greatest perfumes of all time.

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While I have various examples of Mitsouko in my collection, each with a slightly different scent due in large part to varying ages, the new reformulated version is in some respects a distinct departure from the original vintage. While the lasting power matches that of the original (my scent strip still held scent 48 hours later) the unfolding of the fragrance was decidedly different. While it is definitely still recognizable as Mitsouko, there were aspects throughout the drydown that seemed quite foreign to my nose, and at one point I thought I had mixed up my samples. Overall the fragrance seemed thinner and while I was comparing a modern EdP to a vintage parfum, I attribute the lack of depth more to the absence of oakmoss than to the concentration, as vintage versions of the EdT or even EdC seemed to have more weight than the modern EdP.

Indeed, an overall note on the vintage EdT and EdC Guerlains (and Chanels as well) – these are often excellent and substantial renditions of the parfum (with the exception perhaps of Chant D’Aromes). While they are often a touch more powdery than the parfum (especially true for L’Heure Bleue) they are a wonderful option if one is looking for a more affordable alternative to a vintage parfum.

Fruity Chypre

Notes: Bergamot, Lemon, Mandarin, Neroli, Peach, Rose, Clove, Ylang-Ylang, Cinnamon, Oakmoss, Labdanum, Patchouli, Benzoin, Vetiver.

Guerlain – Aqua Allegoria Figue Iris

Guerlain – Aqua Allegoria Figue Iris

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By now you have surely come to the conclusion that perfume is one of my guilty pleasures. The way other people reach for a cocktail when they get home to unwind, I grab a bottle of a different kind and apply liberally to melt away the stresses of my day. I am sure all perfumistas have some fragrance in their wardrobe that is a guiltier pleasure than they would like to admit to. For me, it’s Guerlain’s Aqua Allegoria Figue Iris.

While the Aqua Allegoria line started out as an exercise in minimalism, somewhere along the way (i.e. after the departure of Mathilde Laurent), the entire project went haywire, resulting in odd and sometimes abrasive compositions. With a few exceptions, such as this here, many of the fragrances had a light, delicate character that made them good introductory Guerlains.

Not so with Figue Iris. The first time I smelled it, I was slightly horrifed, as I was expecting a light green fig enhanced by magical iris dust. What I got instead was a dense, surreal impression of the inner pulp of a fig: juicy, ripe, heavy and pungent which segued into a very lush (and slightly plastic) iris, with a hint of violet deepened by a rich vanilla. No subtlety, no light romance, just FIG and IRIS in mile high pink letters.

A f ew months went by and I was sorting samples and came across it again, and applied it absent-mindedly. This time I liked it, almost in spite of myself. I admitted my bizarre newfound affection to a fellow collector who was slightly horrified as well, but we agreed that it was no worse than any other fruity floral on the market. I finished my sample and found myself longing for this plush, plastic fig.  Before I knew it, the search was on to try and track down a bottle because this 2008 release had long been discontinued.

While I cannot help but wish Guerlain would have served this up as a traditional perfume and invested the resources to make it more complex, when it comes down to it, it smells really good. While it lacks the sophistication of say a Diptyque or Hermes fig, ironically, this is one of the fragrances that I get the most compliments on when I wear it, which is on rare occasions given that I had to track my bottle down halfway around the world from a seller in Spain who had one to spare.

Fruity Floral

Notes: Citrus, Violet, Iris, Fig, Milky Notes, Wood Notes, Vanilla, Vetiver.

 

Chanel – Nº 19 Poudré

Chanel – Nº 19 Poudré

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There are some fragrances which take me ages to review, simply because I find them uninspiring. Then there are those fragrances which are so sublimely iconic that they are nearly impossible to reduce to mere words. Finally, there are those fragrances which I have difficulty getting my head around and need time to reflect upon before formulating an opinion, let alone a review.

No 19 Poudré falls into this last category, emphatically so. My expectation upon its release in 2011 was that it would be something along the lines of how the Chanel website describes it – a “luminous re-imagining of Coco Chanel’s signature scent”.  Given how bold the original Nº19 is, I envisioned its Poudré sister would be equally so, with a dose of modern perfumery’s requisite sweetness and of course, powder. I could not have been more mistaken.

Admittedly, it took me some time to get over my preconceptions, so much so, that I made a (short-lived) vow never to read a perfume press release again.  But once I got past the lack of crisp galbanum, the boldness of leather and the rich, earthiness of oakmoss, I started focusing on what the fragrance did possess.

To truly appreciate this fragrance, my recommendation is this: forget the name. Put it completely out of your mind that this bears any relation whatsoever with Nº19, since the only impression of the original is as though smelled from a great distance, through a smoky veil.

Nº19 Poudré possesses subtle, delicate green notes which feel as soothing as toner on sunburnt skin. Rather than focus on the sharp, angular aspects of the original, the fragrance highlights its subtleties. Stripped of its edgy aspects, Poudré feels like a powdery floral, rounded out with super-clean musks and sweetened with tonka. The overall effect of is of an iris powder-puff surrounded by a fuzzy incense cloud. While I cannot help but wish for more dimensionality and lasting power in the scent, Jacques Polge did create a lovely-enough iris fragrance.

Notes: Mandarin, Neroli, Iris, Jasmine, Galbanum, Vetiver, Musk, Tonka Bean.

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.