Two out of Three...Odin 02- Owari and Odin 03- Century

By Tom Clearly I've been struck blind. I was in ScentBar this weekend (I know, it is a well used phrase in my life) and ran across these new scents. I asked for samples of the two there and then came home to find that I somehow missed one. Odin 01-Nomad is tonka, sandalwood and juniper apparently. Someone else chime in as to whether it's all that. Odin 02- Owari is mandarin (from the Owari province in Japan), bergamot and grapefruit leaves. I get grapefruit: fresh, delicious and sweet. After a while it adds pepper and musk but never really veers from the tart and refreshing citrus. No bad thing that. Odin 03- Century is clearly hunting bigger game. Odin writes that it's a "modern interpretation of the chypre family". It opens woody with a hint of mint, then deepens with patchouli (listed as "subtle patchouli") and finishes with amber and a touch of musk and, yes, OAKMOSS. Hallelujah and praise Odin! Yes, you can get a real fragrance with the dreaded oakmoss, and yes you can smell it in there, and oh baby is it a good thing! In your face, IFRA! Available at Aedes, Luckyscent and the Odin stores in New York City, $110 for 100ML, which you should also call and thank them for...

Chypres Dark and Bright: from Aperçu to “Y” - And a Prize Draw

By Donna For some time I have been falling in love with Chypre perfumes all over again. Why now? I have found some new ones (to me) that I tried for the first time and also rediscovered favorites in either their current or vintage versions. The more I learn about these fascinating and sometimes odd perfumes, the more I appreciate them. (When I first smelled the great Rochas Femme many years ago, I had no idea what a chypre was, but I knew it was something really special and that I loved it.) One moment of revelation came a few months ago when I took a chance on an eBay purchase with a small, very old sealed bottle of Ma Griffe with a rather shabby original paper wrapping. No one else seemed to want the bedraggled little thing so I bid on it and got it. When I opened it, there had been some evaporation but the fragrance, and it was Parfum strength, was as fresh as I could have hoped for, and the difference between this wondrous green chypre and the “modern” dumbed down, thin stuff sold under its name today almost made me cry. I just sat for a long time and inhaled the essence of it; it was like a dream in the heart of an ancient forest, a luminous emerald reverie. One of the fascinations of chypre scents is how they can evoke such a powerful response in people, perhaps more so than many or most other fragrances. By this I don't just mean that they are either loved or hated, although that is part of it, but that the great ones are so connected to mood and emotion. I have been thinking about the range of these perfumes, from the somber to the lighthearted among them, and what my own responses to them are. Of course, I do not have an encyclopedic knowledge of all chypre scents; I have never gotten my hands on a bottle of Coty Chypre, though reading its description so many times almost makes me feel as though I have. (I had just about given up ever getting any, but recently I read somewhere that it has lilac in it, so now I have to get it, somehow, someday.) Its most direct descendant still in existence today is Guerlain's great fruity-chypre Mitsouko, with its unmistakable aura of peach that dovetails perfectly with the raw funkiness of the classic chypre base. It is one of the most coveted of all the perfumes in the world, and deservedly so. I think one of the most lighthearted chypre scents of all is a recent discovery for me. I picked up an inexpensive bottle of Yves St. Laurent “Y” (pronounced EE-grek) in Eau de Toilette and was delighted to find it both sparkling green on top and pleasingly rich in the base. Intrigued, I was lucky to find a little sample of the Parfum too, and it's just wonderful. This 1964 release was the first for the house of St. Laurent, back when chypres were still in vogue, but of course it is long gone now. It has a certain sweet “fizziness” to it almost like ginger ale that keeps it uplifting, and putting it on is quite energizing. The previously mentioned Ma Griffe by Carven is much in the same vein, though even drier and greener, and its pleasing character is most evident in the vintage; it has actually been through several reformulations, so “vintage” is not always a guarantee with of quality with this one. It has a definite sharp edge in the lighter concentrations, but in the older bottles there is a definite softness too. It is spring like and vivacious and like nothing else. Another “happy” chypre is a recent discovery for me, but it is now on my list of all-time favorites. A relic from the glory days of the great French house of Houbigant, Essence Rare is a true delight. It bears a certain resemblance to the fiercely green and intimidating Chanel No. 19, but its warmer character and exuberant sex appeal make it my clear favorite between the two. It has a delicious round fruitiness at its center that is a perfect foil for its classical chypre elements. It is now on my list of things I never want to be without again, although it disappeared from stores years ago. Closely following a long the continuum of this style is the great and majestic Miss Dior. The house of Christian Dior nailed it perfectly right out of the gate with their first fragrance in 1947, composed by master perfumer Jean Carles, the creator of Ma Griffe, in collaboration with Serge Heftler-Louiche. It starts out as a somewhat animalic and intimidating fragrance, but the lady's heart is warm, and soon the green mossiness appears along with a subtle spice note that smells something like nutmeg to me; it may is probably the real ambergris in the base that causes this. It never gets sweet or loses its classical structure, but it does soften to become something that can be worn anywhere. It has attained a place in my top ten of chypre favorites – if I had to choose, that is, which would be quite difficult! (Miss Dior is still made today, but it is now reformulated and only available in Eau de Toilette form, so it may as well be discontinued.) Miss Dior is a solidly constructed in the classical manner, and I have recently tried a couple of obscure older chypres that also display the “bones” of their genre very well. A tiny bottle of Bernard Lalande Chypre in Parfum strength is a straightforward and very good take on the type, although the top notes are not what they once were; I could not detect much in the way of bergamot or other hespiridic notes, but the white floral heart is pronounced and the base of labdanum, oakmoss and patchouli is practically a diagram of how to make a chypre. Years ago I would not have known this; thanks to my continuing perfume education, facilitated by both the generosity of my fellow perfume lovers and my own curiosity, .has enabled me to know right away, even when the bottle is old or the perfume damaged, that I am experiencing a true chypre scent. Another golden oldie I obtained for next to nothing due to its obscurity was Chypre by de Molines, a French house that is no more. Brilliant jade in color, it is a well-constructed scent with a sparkling green character that is a perfect reflection of its intense hue. It was still sealed and in excellent condition, so even though it is perhaps sixty years old, it is highly wearable. (Legions of perfumes were named simply “Chypre” in the wake of Coty's great 1913 scent, and virtually all of them are gone now.) Chypres can be romantic too, such as the hazily gorgeous Demi-Jour, by Houbigant, released in 1987 (1988 in the U.S.) This oakmoss-heavy rose chypre laced with violet and heliotrope reminds me of a heavily draped boudoir full of murmured secrets. Perhaps the most famous and distinctive rose Chypre is Paloma Picasso's Mon Parfum, that icon of the Eighties that is no less fiercely beautiful and sensuous for being over-exposed back then. Powerfully infused with clove, patchouli and an almost scary animalic base paired with an intense heart of dark rose, it has no equal. The favorite rose chypre of many and one of the greatest perfumes of the Seventies is Lancôme’s Magie Noire. Its mesmerizing blend of rose, frankincense, myrrh and herbal notes is sometimes thought of as an Oriental style scent, but the mossy base rich with labdanum says otherwise. The 2007 reissue is a but a pale shadow of the original and it is more of a woody floral now; get the old juice and you will never be sorry. This is one of the sexiest perfumes ever created. And what list of romantic chypres would be complete with mentioning Jean Patou's Colony? The idea of a pineapple chypre is wildly creative; the execution was flawless. Heavy, syrupy pineapple drifts in a tropical haze, underscored by the most egregiously fabulous overdose of oakmoss I have ever smelled, and I love it passionately. Naturally, it is now gone forever. Oh well, you can't have romance without a little heartbreak I guess. Moving on, a chypre of a very different character is the iconic green Crêpe de Chine by Millot. Smooth as the silk it was named after, its ladylike and elegant and deserving of its devoted following. Released in 1925 and and discontinued ages ago, it was then resurrected by Long Lost Perfumes, which acquired the formula. I have never tried the new version, but it cannot possibly compare to the good stuff; there is a good reason why the bidding wars on the auction sites reach a fever pitch when the Parfum of this one goes up for sale. If you want to experience the reference green Chypre of all time, this is essential. I recently reviewed a modern green Chypre, Scherrer by Jean-Louis Scherrer. This one is near and dear to my heart, and it's amazingly good for a modern perfume; the current version is less redolent of oakmoss than the “vintage” 1979 juice, but it's still a great scent; for once something was not ruined by reformulation! It was one of my first really “grown-up” scents once I realized there was more to perfume than tender spring florals, and it opened up a whole new world for my olfactory pleasure. Another good one in this rather dry, sophisticated style is Aperçu by Houbigant. It is what I would call a baseline chypre – classically composed, well balanced and suitable for just about any situation. Professional enough for the office but special enough for an evening out on the town, I reach for this spice-laced fragrance when I just can't figure out what else to wear. Be aware that this perfume is getting hard to find and is now sold by the Dana company in huge bottles as a “cologne” so who knows what has been done to it. Find an older bottle of the Eau de Parfum and enjoy. In a similar vein is Courant by Helena Rubinstein (1972), a dry chypre with a spiky galbanum opening that softens considerably as it wears, revealing white florals and a faint whiff of leather until it is actually quite sexy, like a prim librarian who wears black lace lingerie under her sensible suit. It's really too bad that this one is now gone forever like so many others. Some of the green chypres can be a bit prickly, as we move into the area of Coriandre by Jean Couturier. It was once far better than it is today, but it has always been a bit strange, with the soapy/herbal opening and astringent character. I always admired it, but I am not a fan of the leafy herb coriander, also known as cilantro, though I adore the dried spice made from the seeds, which smells nothing like the fresh leaves which always make me think I am eating a bar of Irish Spring soap. Coriandre is the perfect perfume for when you need to be intimidating and in control. Another “difficult” chypre is Miss Balmain by Pierre Balmain, which is a fascinating composition, dry and a bit dusty upon opening, also featuring coriander but it smells like the dry spice to me and not the leaf, with a faint ashtray note at first– yes, really - but something about it draws me in, and its puzzling complexity keeps me guessing. Do I smell flowers? How can there be flowers since this is not in the least sweet? Yet there they are, somewhere, along with oakmoss and vetiver and leather. Narcissus is here, but it's the earthy, almost camphoric kind, not the sweeter type. It would make a superb masculine scent, and if I did not know what it was I would think it was one. Give it a chance on skin, because out of the bottle on a test strip it reveals very little of itself. Recently I was able to compare a tiny sample of the vintage Parfum to the next-to newest formulation of the modern EDT; though rounder and fuller and more floral, it still had that weird dusty note and a grassy astringency. I don't think I will ever truly love it, but it has an eccentric beauty all its own. So now we come to the darkest chypre perfumes, the ones that make an instant impression that sometimes drives people away before they have given the fragrance a chance to come alive on skin. These are the big leather chypres in all their glory. Perhaps the grandest of all was Cabochard by Grès as it used to be; don't look to the new de-fanged version for the trademark wallop of almost greasy leather and pungent patchouli. Its closest competition is Robert Piguet's Bandit, which could easily be a masculine and indeed it has become a favorite of men everywhere. The 1999 reissue is very good, but the vintage 1942 masterpiece by the great perfumer Germaine Cellier is the standard by which all others of this kind are judged, though not many are left and none are being produced today due to the restrictions on many ingredients, most notably oakmoss, one of the backbone materials of chypre scents. This one is not for the faint of heart or those who do not want to be the center of attention. Mlle. Cellier also created Jolie Madame for Pierre Balmain, and this is my own favorite among the “leather girls.” Its heart of narcissus, orris and other flowers combined with a rich base containing castoreum and a generous dose of oakmoss makes for an earthy scent that smells to me like the chilly awakening of spring, with fresh flowers barely obscuring the aromas of damp earth and forest creatures. It has been reformulated several times since its debut in 1953, but it has not been ruined yet. I have tried the vintage in EDT and Parfum and two later versions in EDT. I liked them all and I never want to be without this scent in any of its forms. I have only touched on some of the wonderful chypre scents, and I hope to discover many more of them as I continue my perfume explorations. Which chypre perfumes have you loved, or hated, or found compelling even though you could never wear them? Are there any truly modern chypres that fit the traditional formula, or have they all gone away in the wake of the sweeping changes to the perfume industry? (I admire Chanel's 31 Rue Cambon, but I can't say that I think it's really a chypre scent, as it is purported to be; I think it needs a new category. No oakmoss, no chypre, I say. Or should I be more flexible?) Don't be afraid to delve into this rich vein of perfumery, often considered outmoded today but nevertheless enduring. For almost a century, perfumes constructed in the chypre style have endured, and many of them are in the pantheon of the all-time classics. That there is such wide variety in this fragrance family is one of its great strengths. Now for the good part: I am offering a “gambler's choice” selection of chypre perfume samples from my own collection. Some will be vintage but a few may be newer or at least “new vintage.” Please note that I can only ship to U.S. addresses. Indicate in the comments if you would like to be entered. (If you comment as Anonymous, please put a first name or nickname in the body of your comment in order to be included in the draw.) The winner's name will be selected using an online list randomizer program the week after this post appears. Good luck! Image credits: Coty Chypre and De Molines Chypre perfume bottles, Perfume Intelligence.

Winter Favorites & Best of 2009

PST is taking stock of seasonal and year-long favorites, please join us and list the scents that you have been enjoying the most this winter and in 2009. When we say, "best", we mean, "the ones that brought us the most delight". Can there be a bigger compliment? Alyssa Favorite Winter Perfume: Feminite du Bois by Shiseido. My fall love affair continues—boring for all of you but very satisfying for me. My apologies. Best of 2009: Mythique by Parfums DelRae. I don’t understand how this happened. I don’t usually do subtle understatement and iris often escapes me altogether, but somehow Mythique—with it’s sunny opening citrus, it’s supple drydown so warm and close to the skin, and that bare hint of patch at the end of the orris—has become necessary to my present and future life. Beth Favorite Winter Perfume: Roxana Villa’s adorable set of solid chocolate perfumes are my favorite choices this winter. I adore the delicious La Foret...The sweet combination of pine and chocolate reminds me of all of the afternoons spent hiking through forests with my son and a steaming thermos of cocoa when he was still so very young! Best of 2009: Juliet, by Juliet Stewart is THE perfume that I’ve fallen head over heels in love with this last year as It’s luscious, sexy nature is just so provocative and easy to wear whether I’m dressed for a black tie night or happily undressed for a romantic evening in...... Donna Favorite Winter Perfume: My favorite winter comfort perfume has been Serge Lutens Fumerie Turque - its delicious blend of tobacco, leather and spices dries down to a sueded skin scent that smells like a warm horse on me; nothing is better for a cold night. Best of 2009: A difficult decision, but my vote has to go to Histoires de Parfums Vert Pivoine, the best perfume rendition of my beloved peony blossoms I have ever smelled and an exquisite reminder of the gardens of my childhood. Kelley Favorite Winter Perfume: Cartier Déclaration (1998) . It is a wonderful spicy scent with orange and cardamom mixed with cedar (it has a lot in common with Bigarade Concentrée which was also created by Jean Claude Ellena). Best of 2009: Erik Kormann's 7 (Feige & Vetiver) which is a citrusy green vetiver that dries down to the most delicious vetiver/cedar accords I have ever smelled. Linda Favorite Winter Perfume: Winter cold arrives late-or-never where I live; despite the California rainstorm, the Japanese maples outside are still clinging to their flame-colored leaves, and the hummingbirds have decided it's spring and are nesting. I wanted a cozy winter scent but not a heavy one, and Prada's Infusion d'Iris has been the one to keep me coming back. It's as "between" seasons as our weather: earthy and otherworldly, cuddly and aloof, and just rooty enough to promise that spring is on its way. Best of 2009: L'Artisan Perfumer's Havana Vanille. Here's why: this gorgeous scent made it completely socially acceptable for serious perfumistas to love deep, dark vanilla again. (I never stopped!) Marian Favorite Winter Perfume: This season's favorite was Areej Al-Ameerat's Syoufi Amber - cuddly enough to warm and soothe, but laced with enough frisky spiciness to get me to don my mukluks and brave winter's chill. Best of 2009: AgarAura’s Areej Malaki has ushered me into dreamland for many moons- its glorious damascene sweetening my reveries, its mellow sandalwood soothing my restless soul, and Father Oud’s primal force opening forgotten doors to Layla’s enchanted court. Marina Favorite Winter Perfume: Natori. Warm, spicy, sweet aldehydes, an incredibly attractive contrast of darkness and light, of fire and ice. Or in one word, ssssexy! Best of 2009: Vanille Galante by Hermes. An unexpected love (and isn't it always?), an I-don't-know-how-to-explain-it craving... vanilla and water... it couldn't have been any more unlikely for me to fall in love with this pastel, understated creation of Ellena's, and yet I did. The most easy-to-wear, invariably pleasing and pleasant fragrance in my collection. Marla Favorite Winter Perfume: My top pick for winter is Caron's Parfum Sacre; rosy incense, who could ask for more on a gloomy, frigid day? Best of 2009: My top pick for 2009 is Amouage Epic; this house stands out for consistent high quality and outstanding perfumes, and Epic may be their most gorgeous feminine yet. Tom Favorite Winter Perfume & Best of 2009: The scent I've been enjoying most this year personally is Serge Lutens Fille en Aiguilles, his delicious ode to pine. But I'm giving my nod for Best of 2009 to Smell Bent Commando (indeed the whole line). Nothing has debuted this year that has made me happier and at $20 for 1/4oz you indulge without guilt. To check other lists, please visit: Bois de Jasmin, Grain de Musc, Now Smell This and Perfume Posse. Image original source, Robert Hoppe.

Spring Fling: Smell Bent Limited Edition Leisure Cruise

First things first: The winner of the draw for the Roxana Chocolate solids is varunner. Please click on the "Contact us" button to give us your address. You might remember last October when I reviewed a bunch of creations of young perfumer Brent Leonesio, the Los Angeles based nose behind one of the funnest (to borrow a Steve Jobs-ism) new lines out there, Smell Bent. His line runs on the ethos that perfumes should be fun and more importantly affordable. They're also really good. Just in time for the winter blahs to firmly take hold he has released five new limited edition seasonal "smellies" he calls "Leisure Cruise". They are: St. Tropez Dispenser: Listed notes are jasmine, coconut and musk. At first there's a big wallop of coconut before the jasmine, musk and aloe conspire to make this somewhere between CH I Hate Perfume At the Beach 1966 and Creed Virgin Island Water. Eventually the coconutty suntan lotion portion cedes to the jasmine and it goes more native. Makes me think of Dorothy Lamour. Maybe not the first thing I would reach for (I liked but didn't buy either of the other two), but if you're a fan of either Jasmine or Virgin Island Water you might want to give this a whirl. Monaco Dependent: Orange blossom and opoponax with "greens" are the notes from the website. There's a lovely grassiness to this that balances the other ingredients. I liked this one immediately and immensely; it's fresh green fields and light springy orange blossom would be more effective against seasonal affective disorder than a light-box and a Xanax. I don't know if it's Monaco, but I do know it's me. Brussels Sprouted is greener still: listing "sprouted greens, Himalayan cedar and deep, green musk growing fresh, wet earth". The sprouting greens stop just short of being minty; they really do smell almost like sprouts. When the cedar comes in the scent becomes dryer, then moister when the musk and earth notes drop in. Those of you who react to the earth notes in CB I Hate Perfumes as graveyard needn't be frightened; this is the freshest of the bunch, and certainly the most masculine. Thai'd Down is written of as "sparkling kumquat", mushroom, wood and pepper. I honestly don't get kumquat (although I think I last ate one about 10 years ago..), but there's definitely the blameless scent of fresh button mushrooms with just a hint of citrus. This is perhaps the most challenging of these initially, reminding me of Frederick Malle's Dans Tes Bras, another scent I was not moved enough to buy. But if you sniffed the Malle and lamented that you would have to choose between your phone bill and it this might be right up your cruise ship.. Bollywood or Bust was hands down my favorite. He lists rose, spices and sandalwood in there, but I smell a lot more: I think there's cumin (just a touch, this isn't Serge Noire) and I think a touch of mint or something that balances the darker spices and keeps it more vivacious and less vindaloo. It does get calmer and a little darker as it develops, but leaning in to smell it you'll get that bright opening again. I can see why he called it "Bollywood". It has something of the hyper-stylized feel of a Bollywood Musical; super-saturated with color, full of movement and just a little odd. These are limited editions and I don't know when they'll be history, so if you're curious, act fast. Samples are available at his website for $3.75 each. I received my samples directly from him. My godchild has already told me that she will absolutely DIE if she doesn't get mine so sorry, no draw. Available at the Smell Bent Website and at Luckyscent. $20 for 1/4oz. Image source, Smell Bent.

Sweet/Tart Part Two- Roxana Illuminated Perfume Chocolate Natural Perfumes ..and a draw

By Tom Previously I had covered Blossom, Roxana Villa delightful ode to the Eau de Cologne. This time I'm talking about her new line of solid perfumes based on chocolate, "the food of the gods" My personal journey with perfume with chocolate notes started of course with Angel, which I instantly loathed. Like "get that s&(t away from me" loathed. Then I smelled in on a co-worker on whom it was a total delight. Still is ghastly on me, but a gateway drug is a gateway drug. Then there was Borneo 1834, which was an instant love and my first Bell Jar. There have been others, but I do have to write that Chocolate (or Cacoa more accurately) isn't the first thing I think of when I think of perfumes. When Roxana told me that her new line was all Cocoa, all the time I thought "Hmmm" Then she explained that while they're solid perfumes that stand alone, they're almost to be used as body butters, to be layered with themselves and other Illuminated Perfumes. Figure 1: Noir is pretty Noir: dark woods, dark spices (I smell cinnamon bark and patchouli?) and dark chocolate. The chocolate is the hero ingredient for only about 50% of the time. The other 50% is the woods and musk. I'd love to see a perfume version of this with say 80% woods and 20% Cacao to layer it. Figure 2: Cerise is described as cherry and chocolate. It's not. Which is my opinion is no bad thing: I;m not sure that a literal interpretation is something I'd like. It does suggest cherries, but in a whisper, as is the chocolate. Figure 3: La Forêt is a "dense conifer forest meets and ocean of chocolate". It's definitely dense conifer but the chocolate is more like a pond, and arrives late to the party. It also arrives with a bit of saltiness that's not only fascinating but works extremely well with the piney opening. Figure 4: L'Orangerie is not immediately choco-tastic. It opens bright with citrus peel, sort of like ripping into a fresh mandarin. The Cacao is never intrusive, it seems like a base to the citrus. She writes that "this perfume is VERY fleeting", but I got a decent lasting power out of it and think it would be great with a citrus scent on top. Figure 5: Bois de Chocolat is "smokey woods and chocolate". First, I think that there is nobody who does smoke better than Roxana Villa and this is a wonderful example of it: it has the smokiness of her Chaparral supplanted with the smoky sweetness of the cocao bean. Of any of these this is the one I'd like to own, hands down. Figure 6: Épices is spices, vanilla and chocolate. To me it smells sort of like a chai latte with a hit of Sharffen Berger (the brand she uses to make the line). It's the one that I find the least interesting in the line. But having written that, I have a feeling that a little of this rubbed behind your ears and you'll have boys eating out of your hand. I have a sampler of all six available for one reader, if you wish to be included in the draw please leave a comment. Available at her Etsy shop, in various combinations. She provided me with my small samples and the samples for the draw.

Guerlain L’Heure Bleue: It’s the Parfum, Stupid

By Donna I have another Guerlain story to share. Recently I sallied forth to my local Nordstrom store in search of the latest releases, as I do quite regularly. The selection is good and the staff will cheerfully whip up a sample for you, unlike the Macy’s down the street, where the business plan is apparently to not do anything that might encourage a shopper to actually buy something. I browsed through some of the new fragrances, and then I turned to the wall where the old standbys are kept. There were only two Guerlains out, but the bottles looked really small, and I could not tell by the plain, blocky shapes which ones they were. I moved closer, and I was pleased to see that they were Jicky and L’ Heure Bleue. Then I saw the small print on the bottles just below the names. It said Parfum. And they were testers. Unable to believe my good luck, I grabbed a couple of paper strips and sprayed away, then I did the same to both arms, not caring how I might smell to my fellow bus riders on the way home. (Besides, they were both Guerlains; they wouldn’t clash.) I had never tried either of these in anything but Eau de Toilette as far as I could recall, and certainly never in Parfum, and what a revelation! Jicky worked on me as it never had before, and something about it reminded me very much of my precious little bottle of vintage Caron Nuit de Noel extrait that was thrown in with a bargain basement online auction purchase. I would just love to smell the parfum strength of Jicky on a man. But that’s another story, and it was L’ Heure Bleue that really blew my mind this time. It would appear that the Guerlains agree with me the most when they are in Parfum concentration. All I need now is a bigger bank account and I can have all of them, haha! (Sound of maniacal laughter ensues, followed by heartfelt sobbing.) L’ Heure Bleue has always been one of the few Guerlains that I found approachable, or at least partially understandable, back in the days when my only firsthand knowledge of fine fragrance came from clandestine sniffs at department store cosmetics counters ruled by stern ladies in black dresses and an inch of pancake makeup highlighted by perfect circles of bright rouge. I found it to be soft and a more than a bit melancholy, and I loved the magazine ads for it, with their evocative imagery of impossibly lovely twilight realms. Looking at those images I just wanted to step into that world and be lost, free from all care and worry. Dusk has been my favorite time of day since I was a small child and it remains so today. If only it lasted longer. Never having experienced the Parfum version of this scent before, I can’t really say if reformulation has taken its toll or not. Since it’s an Oriental like Shalimar and not a Chypre like Mitsouko, there is no oakmoss to be rationed and the other main ingredients are not completely restricted yet, and so I believe that this is still mostly untouched by the cold, dead hand of IFRA. (This perfume is one of Guerlain’s untouchable icons in which a change in formula would be noticed by the loyal customers immediately, and not in a good way.) In any case, it’s a wonder. At first it was so serious and almost smoky that it seemed like a masculine scent. What passes for “sweet” in a classic Guerlain, the deep and syrupy secret Guerlinade vanilla accord, is as dark as it is sweet, more like molasses than caramel in this 1912 masterpiece by the great Jacques Guerlain. Somber and almost stern in this concentration, it evokes for me the image of a woman leaning against a window looking at out at an approaching thunderstorm, the clouds darkening the sky in a simulacrum of nightfall as lightning flashes across the sky. She is worried, almost frantic, looking for someone, a child perhaps, who is out there somewhere trying to beat the storm home. It is immediately clear that my beloved Bal à Versailles owes a great deal to the heritage of L’ Heure Bleue as well. Only instead of dancing merrily in the grand ballroom and flirting outrageously with the courtiers, L’ Heure Bleue is wrapped in a heavy velvet cloak and standing on a parapet, the wind lashing her face, the music below only a distant echo. The soft and comforting L’ Heure Bleue I had found in the lighter concentration had become something else entirely in parfum form, a monumental and somewhat intimidating beauty whose gentle melancholy had turned into a drowning sorrow. After a long time, the mood softens as the powdery florals peek out and assert themselves. The sweet anise and iris give a lift to the composition, which still never loses a certain seriousness all the way to the end. In this perfume, carnation loses its innocence entirely and turns into a deep-voiced Gypsy fortuneteller, and rose is not a lilting Rose de Mai but a tempting siren painted in the blood red of glowing embers. Never was vanilla so much in opposition to a gourmand sensibility as in this and other Guerlain classics. Its character reminds me of the pineapple note in Jean Patou’s masterful Colony; such a fruit never really existed, but it is still the very heart of everything a pineapple should be, as syrupy and twisted and inedible and dangerous as it is. The Guerlinade vanilla is most definitely not anyone’s dessert, but rather an intoxicating mélange of sensations that locks on to whatever other elements are in the perfume, and in doing so it creates an unmatched alchemy as it melds with the florals and spices. Unlike the ephemeral twilight of its name, it persists a long time on the skin and will endure as an all-time classic fragrance. Now that I have tried it the way it should be smelled, I hope that is a very long time. Image credit: New Moon by American artist Maxfield Parrish, via artinthepicture.com

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Creed Royal Scottish Lavender

Lavender, a chilly note in and of itself, is not necessarily my favorite fragrance ingredient in cold weather, unless I am looking for an olfactory detox of sorts... if not remorseful corporal mortification... after the holiday excesses. Or unless it is served warm, like in Creed's Royal Scottish Lavender. Built on the same jolting-n-soothing principle as, say, mint hot chocolate, a drink made for snowy days, Royal Scottish Lavender juxtaposes the fresh, bright sharpness of lavender with the sweet, satisfyingly thick velvetiness of vanilla and sandalwood. Like with mint hot chocolate, where the cooling effect of mint somehow tricks your mind into thinking that the beverage, despite being chocolaty, creamy and sweet, is not particularly calorific, Creed's Lavender creates an illusion of transparency and gives me that vague, smug feeling I always get when wearing an herbal(-ish) scent- that in some way the perfume is actually good for me, aroma-therapeutically speaking. Add to that the cushiony, snugly effect of vanilla and sandalwood, and what you have is a great winter comfort scent. If you too don't believe that lavender may be such, do give Creed's rendition a try. Available where Creed is sold, $175.00-$280.00. Image source, creedboutique.com.

Sweet/Tart Part One: Roxana Illuminated Perfume Blossom

By Tom Roxana Villa has quickly become one of my favorite of the natural perfumers. She has introduced a new series of chocolate solid perfumes that I will be reviewing next week (with a sample give-away) but first I want to touch on one of her scents that she has brought back into production, Blossom. She describes blossom as a "traditional Eau de Cologne" based upon her memories of a scent she remembers from her childhood in Argentina called: Colonia de Bebe", which is somewhat like 4711. I've never smelled Colonia de Bebe, and I have smelled 4711. Well, let me clarify: I've smelled the vintage back in the 70's since my grandfather wore it. The stuff that you get today in the plastic vat at your local Duane Reade has as much to do with vintage 4711 as Diet Pepsi does to Dom Perignon. Blossom does evoke those memories. By using pure botanical ingredients she's created a delicious puzzle-box of a fragrance: it's both light with orange blossom yet heady with jasmine and prickly with rosemary. I don't want to write that it's fresh and clean because that usually evokes dryer sheets and those scents that smell vaguely like aluminium, but this is fresh and clean, as if you'd just plucked the flowers and the peel and rubbed them together in your hands. If you have any memory of "traditional Eau de Cologne" you'll connect with it immediately but even if you don't I defy you not to fall for this. While I can imagine bathing in this in a hot summer (especially in humidity) I can equally see it's brightness as being uplifting on a drab winter day. As I type this I am watching "Psycho" and thinking that John Gavin is the perfect image of the man who would smell like this: handsome, straighforward and very male. Not to say that a woman couldn't totally rock this. Certainly were I partnered I would buy one for my "Trevor" and ruthlessly filch.. $7.50 for a 5 gram spray bottle at her Etsy shop, she's promising larger sizes soon. I hope she adds body products, room spray and perhaps dryer sheets. Image source, Roxana Villa Illuminated

Encountering Kilian: On Pretension and Back to Black Aphrodisiac

By Alyssa Long, long, ago, back around, oh, 2007 or so, a young man by the name of Kilian took his gothic complexion, a killer pair of cheekbones and a modest portion of his inherited fortune and invested them all in a perfume company. And we laughed. Remember that? Remember the Le Prix Eau Faux-inspiring introductory sales copy re-uniting Baudelaire and Snoop Dogg at long last? Then there was the accompanying press photo (see above) featuring said complexion and cheekbones, and reminding one ever so slightly of Edward Scissorhands or, more recently, of pretty teenage vampires.* We laughed some more. When we were not laughing we were outraged. The prices! The ridiculous packaging! (Lacquered boxes! A key for god’s sakes!) The sheer pretension of it all! And then, well, damn it if some of the perfume wasn’t pretty good. So some of us laughed a little less. And some of us, like me, raged a little more, and refused to smell the stuff on principle. (The principle of saving my money for other perfume.) But then Denyse wrote one of her patented perfumerotica** reviews of Back to Black and Pure Oud over on Grain de Musc, and Patti over on Perfume Posse agreed, and when I came across the By Kilian counter in Bergdorf Goodman’s on recent trip to New York I found myself walking over with a sheepish grin to ask for a sniff or two. “Are you familiar with our line?” asked the beautiful young SA, blonde and gracious, with an Eastern European accent I couldn’t quite place. I hemmed and hawed. Yes, I said, I knew of the line, but no, I hadn’t actually smelled much of it up until now because, well… Then came one of those moments in my life, of which there are rather too many, when I hear myself talking and wonder when on earth I will stop. Because, with much awkward laughter, and no doubt blushing, too, I was explaining that it had taken me a long time to explore the line because of my initial reaction to copy/price/ packaging etc. Somewhere in there, I used the word “posturing.” “But what is this ‘posturing’?” said the SA, puzzled, but not unfriendly. “I am Albanian. Perhaps I do not understand the English. Posture is a good thing, yes? It means to stand up straight?” Oh god, could this get any more awkward? Now I had to explain my rudeness. “Well,” I managed, “some of us”—not just me, really!—“found the ad copy a little pretentious. Posturing as in posing. Striking a pose. Being false.” “But I am not posing!” she cried, horrified. “Oh, no, no, no, no” I hastened to reassure her. “This is not about you. You don’t have anything to do with how the line is marketed! That’s all up to the PR people. And to Kilian himself, I assume.” “Ah, I see,” she said. “But Kilian is very nice!” Apparently it could get more awkward. “Ah, I see,” I repeated back to her. “You’ve met him.” “Oh, yes!” she said. “He comes to visit me every now and then.” And then she said, with what I swear was a twinkle in her eye: “Would you like to meet him? He is standing right over there.” And that, dear friends, is how I met Kilian Hennessy (who is tiny, but otherwise looks exactly like his photo, and who really is very nice, though a little tetchy about the whole Amy Winehouse/Back to Black connection, which must be a question he gets a lot). It is also how I made my New Year’s Resolution to keep my own posturing to a minimum—or at least as private as possible— in 2010. And last, but not least, it is how I met the lovely Bukurije Bardhoshi, who has an excellent sense of humor in addition to her own set of killer cheekbones and who very graciously gave me a sample of Back to Black after I was done talking to Mr. H. Please. Someone out there on the verge of buying something Kilian, go buy it from her, and tell her I sent you. Because I cannot. Buy something, that is. It would be true justice and the best ending to this story to say it was love at first sniff between me and BtB and I’m on my way to get my very own lacquered box. In fact, I’ve been holding on to this post, testing and re-testing, waiting for Aphrodisiac to reveal its magic so I could have that ending. (Maybe when it’s colder? Maybe on a rainy day? Maybe when I’m in a different mood?) I expected to love it. And I smell in it many bits of things I already love: the honeyed, apple-pie opening of Ambre Narguile (though BtB has rather more tobacco), the pipe tobacco and mysterious smoky syrup of Fumerie Turque (though BtB is sweeter, and not so dark), the raw-honey and vanilla of Botrytis, some of the waxy fruitiness that opens Bois de Paradis, a bit of the dusky phase (imortelle?) from Songes, and even a touch of the unbeloved (by me) but fascinating funky hawthorn from Miel de Bois. Alas, Back to Black does not, as those perfumes do, meld with my skin and surround me in a warm glow that makes comfort a sexy thing. Instead, it just sits there, ignoring me. I might as well be walking around with a huge, overscented candle in my purse. And, heresy of heresies, there are moments when BtB’s waxiness veers perilously close to vanilla Yankee Candle. I also regret to say that on the mornings after I apply—it lasts forever—I often detect something bitter and slightly chemical behind the sweetness. So. More for the rest of you who find it purring and stretching and doing all kinds of other unspeakably delicious things on your skin—just drop a note in the comments if you’d like to be in the draw for my sample. I’m holding out for some more Bois des Iles in parfum. Vintage please, if you’ve got it. *Has anyone noticed that make-up wunderkind Edward Bess is working exactly the same pretty vampire look? Or is it just me? **Update: until this post went up I was unaware that fellow PST contributor Beth Gehring had been using the term "perfumerotica" since last May as the title of her beautiful blog over on www.perfumerotica.com. Beth writes that she is also "hard at work on a magazine, book and lifestyle store of the same name" where she will make "beautiful, luxuiant and passionate items" available to all. Stay tuned to her blog for future info! Image © By Kilian. Available via German Vogue and half-a-zillion other places around the internet. The one that used to be on the NST announcement post has disappeared.