A Beautiful Blend for a Balmy Summer's Day! ~ Annick Goutal ~ Rose Splendide and Ninfeo Mio

By Beth Schreibman Gehring I know a bank where the wild thyme blows, Where oxlips and the nodding violet grows, Quite over-canopied with luscious woodbine, With sweet musk-roses and with eglantine:  There sleeps Titania sometime of the night, Lull'd in these flowers with dances and delight. A Midsummer Night's Dream  It's a balmy summers day in Cleveland, Ohio, the kind of day that just makes you long for the days when you were a child and could rip your clothes off and run around naked with with abandon.  It's the kind of day that makes me want to go skinny dipping and then eat fresh peach ice cream until I'm so full that I could burst.  Alas, I can't do either of these things because I'm an adult now and my days are full of trivial adult like pursuits. A girl can dream though and this morning when I was searching for something that would cool me down and comfort me I remembered this precious combination. These two beauties from the house of Annick Goutal when blended together are sheer poetry and they remind me of the many days spent in my father's garden when I was very young.  Daddy knew more about dirt and flowers than anyone I've ever known. His gardens served as the muse for his true love which was painting. When I was younger his gardens were fairly basic ,but then he fell madly in love with France...more specifically Giverny.  He came home from that first trip and began anew. He researched everything, we liked to tease him and say that he was clearly a frustrated botanist and should just go back to school.  He planted roses (never hybrid teas) and searched for the perfect peonies. He loved his lilies and his Irises. His garden was a symphony of colorful chaos, not contrived at all  and completely blowzy in the English style but with a French romanticism that was palpable. He had so many different species of so many different plants and his herbs were gorgeous and lush, mixed in with a painterly touch. His Lilies of the Valley have never been supplanted in my heart. He always kept Sweet Woodruff growing underneath his maple trees so that he could make May Wine every spring which we'd share glasses of together while watering the gardens in the evenings.  If you read my perfume writing you already know that I don't give a fig about a fragrance pyramid or what makes it all up. What I care about is the emotional template of a perfume and this blend reads like a Shakespearean sonnet juicy , musky and green. When I put this on, it immediately cools me down. Either of these fragrances are lovely, but blended together they shimmer diaphanously , reminding me alot of the beautiful dragonflies that inhabited my fathers beautiful world. Together they smell wet and almost feral, sexy like Queen Titania yet they're a perfect combination to wear with long pearls, linen and a cup of tea.  My father has been gone for too many years now, and it took me a while to find my new home. I work every Tuesday and Thursday in the beautiful Western Reserve Herb Society  gardens that are housed down at The Cleveland Botanical Gardens. I spend my days with wonderful women of like mind tending and harvesting the herbs, making  glistening jellies, jams and other wonderful things.  My true love though lies in simply being down there, quietly tending and clipping and mulching and remembering my fathers words, "Build the soil, Feed it well, Water it Wisely and you'll have a beautiful Harvest. "  Undoubtedly the best advice for life that he ever gave me. Use it and bloom! You can find both of these remarkable perfumes at Lucky Scent

Just Not That Into You: Annick Goutal Petit Cherie

By Tom Longtime readers of this blog know that we are big fans of the scents created by Annick Goutal. As a matter of fact, for me Goutal introduced the idea of "niche" when Sables first hit the shelves at Berdorfs those many years ago. In the interim I fell for many more. But not Petit Cherie. I want to love it; I love the idea of her creating a scent for her daughter Camille, who is now carrying on with the company and creating her own unforgettable scents. I even love the name "little dear." But I am afraid the scent really, really doesn't love me. The fruits in the opening that start out so soft and innocently sensual start to get raucous and raspy on my skin, going from tender caress to temper tantrum. Then a crazily huge cucumber note comes in, then it's time to wash.. Petite Cherie is available at the usual suspects, including Nordstrom, Neimans and Berdorfs in various sizes and compositions, My sample was in a ScentBar giftbag I received at their Valentines Day event. If Petit Cherie works for you, please feel free to sing it's praises in the comments.. Image: Nordstroms

Scents of Summer

By Tom Well, I'm a week late with talking about the summer scents that I'm looking forward to; chalk it up to lazy summer-ness.. I've talked about some of these before Aqua di Parma, Eau de Sud and Hadrien, and Hermès Eau d'Orange Vert. I've also talked about the one I'm really looking forward to wearing: Frederic Malle's French Lover. French Lover is a green, green, green rooty scent that was created to "attempt to create the ultimate man’s scent." It's all green roots and  smoky woods and a final clean muskiness. It's a very patrician smelling thing- it makes me think that if Cary Grant were somehow alive and 35 years old this is what he'd be wearing. What are reaching for for summer (winter if you're below the equator?) Let us know in the comments. French Lover is called Bois d'Orage in the US because apparently they thought we wouldn't get the joke. So we get the name that sounds translated like a porn star (Thunder Woods). It's available at Barneys in several sizes. Mine is from my bottle. Image: Wikipedia

Le Mimosa by Annick Goutal

Odd fruits streak continues... after the mustached pear of La Belle Helene, let me introduce you to the sweaty peach of Le Mimosa. The only reason why I decided to talk about the latter is because I am puzzled by an unexpected body odor-ish quality to the composition. Cumin often has that "skin warmth" feel about it, but does anise? In any case, there is something warm and human if not exactly pleasant about Le Mimosa. Other than that...well, sometimes if you try hard, you can sort of intuit the declared star note(s) in a composition...like cedarwood in Cedre...but however hard I try, I am unable to get any mimosa in Le Mimosa. There is something vaguely rosy about it, with a cooling freshness from anise on top and a lot of plasticy fruitiness from peach throughout, and that's about it. There are several takes on mimosa out there, none particularly realistic, but most fairly successful in representing at least a certain characteristic of the aroma. L'Artisan's Mimosa Pour Moi is all about the watery doughiness of mimosa, Farnesiana focuses on its warm, almondy quality...Goutal's rendition has nothing to justify its name. To be honest, these days I don't want to try hard to understand the whys and how-comes of new releases. I probably have been all puzzled-out in the beginning of my obsession by trying to decipher Lutens's creations. Was the Goutal team going for the mimosa feel rather than the mimosa smell? Perhaps, but if so, they failed anyway. The fragrance does not evoke the vivid, joyful yellow of mimosa. Rather, it appears to be pale, pastel peach in color as well as in smell. Again, were it not for the incongruous sweaty feel, the perfume would have been totally unremarkable. Available wherever Goutal is sold. What is your favorite mimosa fragrance?

How Green was my Valley Annick Goutal Ninfeo Mio

By Tom I fully admit that I am an Annick Goutal fanboy. There are several that are staples (even if the new version of one left me cold), and new ones that have quickly become favorites. Even though I wouldn't wear it, the last new release was lovely and the friend I gave it to adored it. The ever charming and kind Lianne Tio was nice enough to hook me up with this new one, based again upon Goutal's idea of the garden, this time the Gardens of Ninfa outside of Rome. If this is at all what it smells like and I manage a Lotto win, I'm there. This opens with green, tart citrus that's quickly supplanted by grasses, a touch of lavender and wood. The effect is at first a perfect antidote to winter blahs; it's a sense memory of late spring laying in the grass enjoying the sun after a long winter, when 65 degrees seems almost sinfully self-indulgent after long months of grey. Then the fig comes in to party. Annick Goutal has a reputation of being somewhat staid: clean and rather buttoned-up. People overlook scents like Musc Nomade, Eau de Fier and others where Goutal lifts her skirts. The fig in Ninfeo Meo is so succulent it's almost slutty, and if you've spent any time reading my petty scribblings you know that's a high compliment indeed. Casual spritzers will only get a whisper of it; I gave myself a liberal spritzing and got the Full Monty. Ninfeo Mio is available in Europe at Lianne Tio's shop (she sent me a review bottle) and I assume in America starting at Neimans et al when it gets here. I don't know whether it will be priced along regular lines or like Les Orientalistes. I'm hoping for the former, since in addition to having some of the best scents out there, these days the price point is a steal. Image source, Annick Goutal.

Annick Goutal Myrrhe Ardente: Perfume Review

So apparently I jinxed the weather. Time to dig out comfort scents, I guess. And you know how it happens sometimes that you have a very vague idea of what you want, and think that nothing can possibly fit that idea, and then the first thing you smell is exactly what you are looking for? I had a feeling I wanted something sweet but dry, smoky but not tarry, something comforting but weird. And voila! A random spritz of Myrrh Ardente was, miraculously, all that. Tonka bean and benzoin compliment the honeyed side of myrrh, turning the composition, in the first stages of its development, into something almost gourmand. The abundance of dark, dry, resinous wood enhances myrrh's smokiness. Midway through its development, that aspect is so strong that it becomes almost leathery but never steps into the tar territory. Then the soft, nutty sweetness of tonka softens the smoky effect, and as soon as the composition seems to have become tamed down and downright cuddly, the weird part happens. In the role of twist, of that jolie laide quality that turns a good, well-balanced perfume into an interesting perfume here is...well, myrrh itself, or more particularly its raw, mushroomy characteristic. Paired with the sweetness and the smoke, the rawness is striking and incredibly appealing. I think, it's the beginning of a beautiful, cold and rainy weather friendship for Myrrhe Ardente and moi. Available at Saks and Bloomingdales, $135.00-$175.00, but "masculine" bottles seem to be sold for much less at some online retailers. Image is by Guy Bourdin.

Gloomy Sunday

By Tom Gaia, The Non Blond was the first person I know to have mentioned it and I had to drop into Bloomingdales to investigate. I can't help but think that Annick Goutal Eau d'Hadrien has been reformulated. I went with a friend and had her sniff the bottle without showing her the tag with the name and she thought it was something new: the lemon is sharper and more plastic, there's a hint of immortelle and everything's just a little bit, well, brassier that the one that I have at home. It's like the post-collagen Meg Ryan; if you'd never known the original I'm not sure you'd blink, but I can't see this juice bringing out that "Ooooh" reaction the original did. I suppose expecting things to hang there, timeless, is like spitting in the wind, since I am no more the person I was when I trundled my youthful self up to Bergdorfs to spend two weeks pay on it back in the early 80's. But I can't help but think that this particular spate of regulations and the reformulations is going to be the BC and AD of the perfume world. If you have a favorite, run to your nearest retailer and stock up (just open and make sure it's still the same stuff). To the French houses, you are perfectly welcome to set up shop here in California and mix up the original juices to be sold everywhere else in the world. We appreciated the gift of the Statue of Liberty enough to keep her in good stead, I promise we'd do the same with Mitsouko. Because if the EU can't respect the legacy of the grand tradition of French perfumery and the cultural legacy that it represents, then I don't know what's next: outlawing Brie because people are lactose intolerant? Wine because people might have a hangover? It's all so silly, and all sad... Image source, toonpool.com.

Annick Goutal Un Matin d'Orage: Perfume Review

By Tom Gardenia in fragrance can be a good or a bad thing, depending upon how you feel about the flower and how it's handled. Some will grab you by the lapels and shake you like a cat with a fresh-caught mouse (Agent Provocateur) while some whisper rather than shout (SIP Epic Gardenia). I prefer the whisper, thanks, and the house of Goutal is almost always about the whisper. The idea behind Un Matin d'Orage is that it's supposed to be the simulacrum of the smell of a Japanese garden after a morning storm. I can speak to the accuracy of that, but there is a definite aquatic freshness to the scent, as well as stemmy green-ness and discernible grapefruit at the beginning. I should hate that but I don't at all. This part of the scent stays close to my skin and is quite lovely. The gardenia is gorgeous and surprisingly shadowy; I catch it at odd times but don't smell a lot of it when I close in. I can appreciate the femininity and easy chic of this scent and think it could be summer favorite for someone who isn't me. It needs a woman to bloom on. But it always doesn't need to be about me. Besides, there's enough from this line that's me all over, perhaps this one is all about you? Available at Saks, and at Lianne Tio Perfumes

All Hallows Eve

Bide The Wiccan Law Ye Must, In Perfect Love, In Perfect Trust. Eight Words The Wiccan Rede Fulfill: An Ye Harm None, Do As Ye Will. And Ever Mind The Rule Of Three: What Ye Send Out, Comes Back To Thee. Follow This With Mind And Heart, And Merry Ye Meet, And Merry Ye Part. By Beth Oh there you are come gather around this friendly balefire. Don’t the flames smell absolutely wonderful, burning brightly with the woods of apple, oak and ash and scented with fresh branches of lavender , wild sage and rosemary? It’s a beautiful evening , cool and crisp and I’ve laid bales of fragrant fresh hay all around where we can sit. The waxing crescent moon is hanging by a silvery thread in the sky and the woods are quiet, except for the disconcerting sense that we are not alone. I’ve brought homemade ale which is laced with nutmeg , fresh honey and apples. The tureen is filled with steaming hot pumpkin soup, laced with curry and cumin and the last of the season’s sweet corn is roasting by the edges of the fire waiting to be drenched in the melted butter that has been laced with the disarmingly sexual flavor of black truffles and salt. Because it’s Halloween, I have to have candy corn and homemade spicy caramel apples! The winds are stirring tonight and if you listen carefully they will tell you anything that you need to know. Take a deep breath, notice the smells that come to you. Yes, we are in the deep woods and there are the familiar sounds of animals curling in the brush and the smells of wet leaves, rutting deer and apples . The animal that is me is also aware of fragrances that don’t belong. Sweet smells that I don’t recognize, strange skin scents and pungent , decaying smells that make the hairs stand up on the back of my neck . An owl flies past silently as they are prone to do, wings strong and the shriek of it’s prey breaks the still night. It is all part of the great dance among the strands of the web of life. Tonight is All Hallows eve and the veil between the worlds is so very thin. It’s true, you are closer to the dead tonight than any other time of the year. Dead ancestors, dead dreams, I know that for many the mysterious end to that which we call life is truly frightening, but I’ve always thought the latter to be much scarier. My mother whose memory I honor tonight used to tell me that those who are afraid to die are instead truly terrified to live. I remember once kissing a man and knowing immediately that his soul was dead. His cruel lips pulled the air from my lungs, his fairly vampiric essence flooded my veins and in that instant I knew. I ran away fast, scared for my very life. There is no smell on earth more putrid than the scent of the living dead. It’s not a scent I’ve ever forgotten. Sometimes by the time you’ve figured it out it’s too late. Sometimes you have to die a bit yourself before you learn the lesson. Halloween is a special time for me....it’s the time of year that I simply stop and remember everything and especially in this year which has been filled with unexpected endings I feel the need for pause. Samhain or as you’ll know it , “Halloween”, is the Wiccan New Year and I am a witch. I really do believe in magic. Halloween is my time for deep reflection and divination, the time to honor endings and a time for us all to cast powerful new wishes. Tonight we’ll look to the night sky to dream of peace and a prosperous world. Our creed is to harm none, we are the keepers of the earths secrets. For years we’ve been the healers, the herbalists and the perfumers who walk unnoticed among you. We tend the gardens. We mix the potions that make life just a bit more interesting. For years we’ve lived cloaked in secrecy, afraid to be known. No longer. Please don’t be afraid and be filled with the knowing that there is no magic without love and don’t be fooled. We are all capable of bewitching, some of us just come by it a bit more naturally then others. The very nature of magic is enchanting. The true nature of enchantment is sweet fun. Yes we witches are mischievous, but it’s born from a deep need to celebrate life. This is the one time of year when the beginning and end of the wheel of life meet, so you can hardly blame us for wanting to have a bit of fun! We love to dress up, all that black is simply good for a bit of mysterious, good-natured fun. I for one cannot resist a flowing cape of any kind or deep smoky black eyeliner worn like Kim Novak in the classic movie, Bell, Book and Candle and I have to wear velvet as much as possible. I use my makeup to cast a spell of seduction and power or sometimes to be invisible. I adore talismans of all kinds, crystals and gems and I stuff my pockets with acorns and pennies, rocks and feathers that I cannot resist picking up for unexplained reasons. I have an almost unnatural love of cats. In the playful words of my favorite movie “Practical Magic” lies what I believe to be a simple truth, ” that there is a little witch in every woman”. I believe that there’s a little witch in every man too, I’m married to one. I found the only man in the world that I couldn’t control and then I married him. He enchanted me the instant I saw him, I’ve been incredibly spellbound by him for almost 30 years. He lets me tempt him over and over again with the most delightfully fragrant potions, he in turn entices me to believe that I am the most beautiful woman alive. By now all of you know just how much I love perfume and I use it abundantly like we all do, to bring about a mood, to cast a spell, to enchant, to allure, to weave a story. Tonight I’m wearing Annick Goutal’s very sexy , very witchy Mandragore , a scent which my husband adores. I love it’s strangely metallic, almost bloody yet warm blend of bergamot, black pepper and spearmint layered with boxwood, sage , pink peppercorn, star anise and ginger. The musky , sexual allure of Mandragore comes from the alchemical presence of the European mandrake which has been used for centuries as a powerful narcotic and an aphrodisiac, as well as to promote fertility and cure impotence. It’s perfect for an evening such as this one where we are playing with all of our senses. Yes, sometimes I think that people are afraid of witches simply because our very nature is bestial, sensual and earthy. No, I will not steal your husband or seduce your son. Be warned though , I may flirt with them a bit and I’ll probably flirt with you too. I can’t help myself, I love to tease and provoke using inspiration as my wand and love as my muse. As a delicious southern enchantress I know is fond of telling her husband, “Darlin, I don’t care where you get your appetite as long as you come home to eat”. I don’t mean you any harm and my wish for you is unbridled passion and joy. Magic for me is happiness, playfulness and tenderness. It’s about knowing that there are some things that you can control and many things that you can’t. It’s about acceptance and taking care of others as you would want to be cared for yourself. It’s about living powerfully with all in the world , not being afraid to see all that the world has to offer. It’s about being at peace with the duelistic nature of creativity and destruction. It’s about creating your own reality, not waiting for it or someone else to create you. So dance with me for a bit, come find your inner witch. For you I’ve brought a sterling mug filled with my favorite brew. Be careful it’s very very hot. It’s made from steaming milk and fragrant dark chocolate, agave nectar, allspice, cinnamon, a touch of vanilla for passion and a lusty shot of tequila to enable you see between the worlds. Sip it slowly , savor it’s smoky aroma and tell me, What would you like to create this year? Annick Goutal Mandragore can be found at Saks Fifth Avenue Photograph of Mandragore from www.annickgoutal.com. Painting by John William Waterhouse

Roses in 3-D: Annick Goutal Ce Soir Ou Jamais

By Donna Roses have to be among the most beloved of all plants that are cultivated by humans, and hardly anyone does not like their scent. It is a rare person who is not affected in some way by the delicious aroma of a fresh, dewy rose blossom. But when it comes to rose perfumes, even those who love the flower itself are less than enamored of perfumes featuring the rose. Sometimes it is because they smell cheap, due to synthetic ingredients in the composition or because “rose geranium” leaves were used instead of real rose essence, a cost-cutting measure that can be easily detected by comparing it with a real rose fragrance. Memories of drugstore horrors linger long and make one wary of approaching anything calling itself a rose soliflore. I personally love a good rose perfume as much as anything, and I am always looking for the kind that makes me feel as I do when smelling a real one in my garden; I inhale slowly and deeply and if it’s really good, it has that same effect that a fresh rose does – the nose never tires of it and there is never any hidden unpleasantness in its depths like there can be with other flowers. Fragrant roses are sweet right down to the bottom, and a good rose perfume should be the same way, rich and deep and endlessly pleasing, with no “off” or strange notes to interfere with the experience. Those rose perfumes that do measure up to the real thing usually have to do it in one if two ways: by recreating the effect of the fresh living flower or by making it abstract, stylized, and part of a greater whole. The first way is probably the more difficult approach, as the standard for a rose scent is so high: the icon of the genre is Jean Patou Joy, a seamless and masterful fusion of Rose de Mai and Grasse jasmine that is the measure of greatness for all that have come after it. Then there is the modern Serge Lutens Sa Majeste de la Rose, a worthy heir to the classic tradition. On the abstract side we have such gems as Frederic Malle Editions de Parfum Lipstick Rose and Guerlain Nahema, both clearly rose-based but each with a unique twist, and the very rosy but somehow also stylized Paris de Yves St. Laurent that somehow does not seem like a rose soliflore to me but more of an atmosphere, a series of pink-tinged cloud pictures in my head like the kind we see as children when looking at the sky. Then there is Lancôme Magie Noire, whose rich and sophisticated rose essence is surrounded by a haze of other notes, a velvety penumbra moon that is best worn at night. Of course, these are only a few of the multitude of rose fragrances in the world, and everyone has their own idea of what their ideal rose perfume would smell like. So why do perfumers keep producing rose scents? I have to think that in the case of the best ones, it has to be for love – think of the high quality of the Parfums de Rosine line, the medley of rose themes encompassed by these wonderful perfumes. I have not tried most of them, but I love Un Folie de Rose very much; its slightly sharp greenness coupled with the rich, tender rose is a perfect balance. It is a line that I hope to know better in the near future. (I have tried a couple of other Rosines but I must confess I can’t remember what the names were, except for having the word Rose in them!.) This brings me to my subject: Annick Goutal Ce Soir Ou Jamais (“Tonight Or Never.”), released in 1999. It actually reminds me quite a bit of Un Folie de Rose with its green opening and slight astringency. In fact, there was a very brief “oh no” moment for me when I first put it on, thinking it was rose geranium as it was so sharp, but it passed quickly. (Not that I could ever really imagine a Goutal perfume with a problem like that!) When it has been on the skin for a few minutes the sharpness subsides and it becomes softer, and a hint of violet peeks out. After a little while it gets richer and almost jammy, but never cloying, as there are other subtle notes in play that keep a certain immediacy and freshness to the fore. According to the Bergdorf Goodman site, it has pear and cassis in it; I can’t really separate them out from everything else very well (reportedly 160 essences are involved in the composition) but I think I can tell what the pear is doing. It has the comforting feel of a chilled, poached (or dare I say even canned?) pear, the kind of thing one eats on a hot summer day when nothing else seems worth the effort. The Annick Goutal web site says there is hibiscus as well, which is where some of the sharpness must be coming from. This is only a sense, a gossamer veil of cool greenness over it all, since the centerpiece of the scent is Turkish rose, and it is magnificent indeed. I never had to wonder for even a moment if any shortcuts were taken in the selection of the ingredients for Ce Soir Ou Jamais. This has within it one of the finest rose essences I have ever experienced, and it is further rounded out with very good jasmine and ambrette seed. The jasmine behaves itself remarkably well here, and is used to do what only it can, to showcase and enhance the rose, making it bloom with sensuality while keeping its own character in the background. The drydown of this perfume is very pleasing, as the ambrette seed accord melds with skin to create a long-lasting impression. I have worn this fragrance to work several times now – the carded sample was quite generous. While it lasts on me all day, it never gets too strong, and I only catch fleeting sensations of it on myself. I find it to be civilized yet romantic, and far more wearable for day and even the office than some other more intense rose scents that are best left for evening wear, such as Magie Noire, Nahema or Caron Parfum Sacré. Yet it is not without a strong character of its own, and it is certainly not one of those pallid mass-marketed “rosy” scents that wither away to nothing after thirty minutes. It is simply a deliciously dimensional true-rose fragrance for rose lovers who don’t want to “save” their favorite perfume for special occasions. I don’t know why I never discovered this scent until now. Perhaps it is because there are so very many Annick Goutal scents and I never can get through them all at my local shop before I am entranced with something else – they are displayed close to the L’Artisan, Amouage and Hermès lines, so I am always flitting back and forth like the world’s happiest honeybee; I think I need to check in to the Home For The Easily Distracted. Perhaps it is because the name does not have anything to do with roses so I never knew that’s what it was. In any case, this one goes right up among the top ten rose scents for me, joining Parfum Sacré, Nahema, Sa Majeste de la Rose, Un Folie de Rose, Magie Noire and of course Joy. The others on my list keep changing as I discover them and I say, Oh, I like that one the best; No, it’s that one. But of course the beauty of it all is that I don’t have to choose at all, until it’s time to buy a bottle. I can just keep falling for all those rose scents over and over, as long as it takes. Image credits: Special edition Ce Soir Ou Jamais bottle & velvet case from Passion for Perfumes, a perfume bottle collectors’ site. Photo of the perfectly formed and extremely fragrant 1843 Hybrid Perpetual Rose ‘Yolande d’Aragon’ from roses.ausgarden.com.

Perfume Review: Annick Goutal Musc Nomade

By Tom If you have read my blog or the past posts here on PST you will have more than covered the Agatha Christie-esque twists and turns that have brought this new scent to me. (all kudos to the ladies at the Perfumed Court for making up for the vicissitudes of the local Post Office- you ladies rock) Musc Nomade is the fourth scent in the new line of Goutals, called "Les Orientalists". The first three of which I liked immensely; I was unsure how I would find this one. The name suggest something wild, like Muscs Kublai Khan; the nose is Isabelle Doyen, responsible for Lez Nez' l'Antimatiere, a perfume so etherial some cannot discern it. Upon finally smelling Musc Nomade, I am struck that it is kind of sister of Etat Libre d'Orange's Tom of Finland scent. Sisters in a film-noir sense, like one where Bette Davis takes over the other one's life then has problems remembering where the bathrooms are. All that's deliberately, winkingly cheap about Tom of Finland is done here with a ruthlessly easy chic. Etat Libre's scent is all leather jackets, doublemint gum and the smell of the piers. It's New York in 1977. Musc Nomade is all about tanned, clean youthful skin, an expensive linen shift tossed on after an ocean dip, an evening on a terrace overlooking the Mediterranean that same year, wood, roses and your own fabulousness. Do I need to tell you which sister I want to be? Musc Nomade just might be getting to the US sometime in the Fall if the SA's are correct. In the mean time it can be ordered from the ever-delightful Lianne Tio from her boutique in the Netherlands. Since shipping covers I believe about four bottles, I suggest a bunch of you get together and do so in bulk.

White Floral Queen Part Six: Annick Goutal Gard├йnia Passion

By Donna I have been a devoted fan of the Annick Goutal line from the very first time I tried it at my local perfume shop. To me they represented the best classic traditions carried on in modern formulations. Some are ethereally light while others pack an intense punch of depth and sensuality. My favorite among the latter category is Gardénia Passion. The 1983 Goutal chypre-floral fragrance called Passion is a very fine perfume in its own right, a complex floral bouquet of great sophistication. (Not to be confused with “Elizabeth Taylor’s Passion,” which had to use the full three-word name after a brush with trying to use the “Passion” name, which turned out to be copyrighted by Annick Goutal, and it is an inferior scent.) I actually had a hard time choosing between the two when I decide to purchase my first bottle many years ago. The 1989 gardenia version won me over. Passion is a lovely composition based on tuberose and jasmine; Gardénia Passion “kicks it up a notch” with the addition of gardenia and orange blossom. You might think that such a fragrance would be overwhelmingly sweet, but it’s really not. For one thing, the jasmine accord is extremely animalic and deep rather than bright, and though while it is intensely redolent of white flowers, this fragrance remains elegant and refined throughout its development, as it is comprised of very high quality ingredients, and it shows. It really is more of a tuberose scent than gardenia to my nose, but the orange blossom accord gives it a pleasantly soapy and slightly green quality that keeps the headiness (somewhat) under control. There is a subtle citrus note, and something else green and sharp hiding at the bottom of this perfume; lots of oakmoss, which I can never get enough of. This last also ensures that Gardénia Passion has unsurpassed endurance on the skin. It has a weightier base than some other white floral scents and thus is not all float and shimmer; it maintains equilibrium between the sweet flowers and the austerity of the oakmoss. Gardénia Passion is one of those perfumes that transforms the wearer in unexpected ways. Suddenly you feel powerful, sophisticated and sexy all at the same time, and you feel ready to take on anything the world has to offer. (However, I would not suggest wearing it to work unless you own the company; otherwise the line between the boardroom and the bedroom could become a little bit blurred.) If your skin tends to amplify white floral scents, as mine does, this one could become quite strong in a closed room. Of course, that should not stop you from wearing it for any other occasion outside of the office. I wear mine to the grocery store or a night on the town with the same abandon. I find it to be equally suitable for cold or warm weather. It has enough substance to assert itself in winter, while not becoming cloying during humid summer heat. Now, bear in mind that I am speaking as one whose tolerance of this class of fragrance is very high; your results may differ. I feel that Gardénia Passion is a true modern classic that will stand the test of time. It has been around for almost twenty years now, and it is still very popular. It seems to hit just the right note of white floral richness without being too loud or overbearing, a veritable Platonic ideal of perfumery. I plan to still be wearing it when I get old, and when I put it on I will be transformed into a Grande Dame instead of just an old lady. That is the magic of Gardénia Passion. I will go so far as to liken it to film legend Sophia Loren; undeniably sensuous and yes, passionate, yet somehow always dignified and never the least bit vulgar. The Annick Goutal line is widely sold in better department stores such as Nordstrom, in perfume boutiques, and from online fragrance discount merchants. Gardénia Passion comes in Eau de Parfum, which can be a little hard to find, and in Eau de Toilette. The most popular Goutal scents, including Gardénia Passion, are also available in bath and body products. The body cream and shower gel in this scent are just outrageously good. Image credits: Gardénia Passion bottle from fragranceX.com. Photo of actress Sophia Loren posing for the famous Pirelli Calendar in 2007 at age 71, from newsamericanow.com.

Three Days of Lilies. Day Three: Annick Goutal, Frederic Malle, Serge Lutens...And a Prize Draw.

Today is the last day of lilies, devoted to my most favorite scents featuring the note. These are the lilies to die for, nor a thorn nor a threat stains their beauty bright. Serge Lutens Un Lys is the lily that I loved even when I did not like floral perfumes in general and lily scents in particular. Reading reviews and forums, I noticed that very often "floral-haters" single out Un Lys as one of a few obviously-floral perfumes they can wear and love. The secret of its success with the floral-phobic and lily-phobic perfumistas, I think, lies in the presence of vanilla. The scent is a perfect example of what a judicious, masterful use of the note can do to a composition. When used right, vanilla softens what otherwise could have been overly-sharp, soothes what could have been too harsh, but it does not overwhelm, over-sweeten or take over the composition. In the case of Un Lys, vanilla rids the lily note of its grating, high-pitched, metallic quality and enhances its lush, sweet (but not too sweet) floralcy. The delicate musky drydown is a comfortable skin-scent, which lingers long after the velvety flowers wear off. Annick Goutal Des Lys is another lily scent that is soft and non-aggressive. The delicacy is achieved here by the means different from those employed in Un Lys. There is no vanilla in Des Lys, no sweetness added to the naturally sweet-smelling lilies. In fact, the lilies aren't even that sweet here. This is a cold scent, but not in an unpleasantly-aquatic manner. Des Lys is cool as a transparent white fabric wavering in the fresh morning breeze. This is a green (I smell leaves and stems of the flowers, not just the petals, especially in the beginning), translucent lily and the translucency is what prevents the scent from being sharp. The notes listed for Des Lys are casablanca and white lilies, and I am not an expert on lilies, but of the two, the fresher, brighter smell of white lilies seem to me to be more prominent than the spicy-creamy aroma of casablancas. Believe it or not, I also smell a leather-like accord in the base of Des Lys. One would not expect it from a scent so airy, so ethereally-feminine, but I swear there is something in the drydown that makes me think of leather (and, sometimes, hay) ... evoking in my mind an image of a fragile white lily with a black leather stem. Edouard Flechier's Lys Méditerranée created for Frederic Malle's Editions de Parfum is anything but fragile. This is a Big Flower, just like one would expect from Flechier. Lys Méditerranée is a dazzling beauty viewed in close-up, larger than life, an intoxicating, unapologetically luscious rendition of (ginger) lilies. It starts with a bright, piquant bang of lilies and orange blossom. At times, the top notes are so spicy on me, I suspect the presence of carnations, but that of course might just be the zingy natural smell of ginger lilies. Sometimes the scent has a slightly marine undertone, sometimes Lys skips that part of its composition completely on my skin. When I smell the vaguely aquatic note in Lys Méditerranée, it does not bother me, as it does not possess the jarring metallic quality I abhor. When I smell Lys Méditerranée, I see majestic (and gigantic) white flowers, so big and ripe that their stems are almost unable to hold them, their sultry petals luxuriating in the coolness of the wind that comes from the sea. I love the musky base of Lys Méditerranée; the musk here is neither too clean nor overtly animalic. It is white musk gone slightly wild, led a little astray by the decadent, lascivious lilies. Lys Méditerranée is also available as body oil, and is just as gorgeous in that formulation albeit a little less complex, less audacious and much sweeter. If the regular version seems a little too heady to you, huile à tout faire might be a good alternative. Along with Antica Farmacista's Casablanca, Lys Méditerranée tops the list of my favorite lily scents, with Un Lys, Des Lys and Gold following closely behind. Un Lys is available at Aedes, $120.00 for 1.69oz; Des Lys was last spotted on 99perfumes.com, $49.40 for 1.7oz; Lys Mediterranee is sold at Barney's, $75.00-$180.00. If you would like to receive a set of (7) samples of some of the lily scents I talked about this week, including Lys Méditerranée and Lys Méditerranée oil, Des Lys, and more, please let me know in your comment that you want to be entered in the prize draw. A winner will be announced on Monday morning.

Lily of the Valley Week. Day 1. Annick Goutal, Art of Perfumery, Caron

Annick Goutal – Le Muguet Le Muguet is a Limited Edition soliflore scent released by Annick Goutal in 2001. It is said that the company will reissue some of the other soliflores, but Le Muguet doesn’t seem to be included in the list, which is sad, because, along with Le Jasmin, it is my favorite in the series. I have read many reviews that note a harsh, almost carbide-like note in Le Muguet, so perhaps the scent wasn’t so popular as to warrant a reissue. On me, it is one of the most beautiful lily of the valley scents from beginning to finish, and yet I do see how it can possibly leave a sharply-chemical impression. The lily of the valley note here is so incredibly realistic and sumptuous, like sticking one’s head into the huge bouquet of freshly picked flowers, and the smell of real lily of the valley does in fact have that strange …metallic? gas-like? even almost garlic-like?...characteristic. As I said, I can sense a hint of that natural weirdness of muguet in Goutal’s rendition but it enhances my enjoyment of the scent rather than turns me off it. Lily of the valley perfumes in general are not ones that I would ever characterize as sweet. Having said that, Le Muguet, is perhaps one of the sweetest, I guess due to the fact that it also features a rose note. It is not a strong note, but it does make the typically virginal lilies of the valley exceptionally luscious. Honeyed, so very life-like, lilies of the valley are so appealing here, I could just…bite them. Art of Perfumery – 3 Said to have been created to evoke “a feeling of serenity”, to be “a perfume refuge”, 3 is a little bit of a paradox in that it manages to be simultaneously clean and rather sweet. The clean aspect is achieved through the use of a prominent aquatic accord, and the sweetness is caused by the presence of melon and orange. Unlike Goutal’s rendition, which makes lily of the valley so real that one feels transported to a forest-glade all white with muguet and sees oneself lying among the flowers, intoxicated by their silvery smell, 3 is not nearly as realistic. Wearing 3 is akin to being in an elegant spa, with the lily of the valley candle burning somewhere in the distance. It is lovely and indeed serene, but rather tame and “sterile”, and not the kind of “refuge” I would ever choose. Caron – Muguet de Bonheur There was time when I used to dislike lily of the valley note in perfume, and during that misspent and misguided phase of my life I used to think that all lily of the valley scents smelled the same. How wrong can one be? Trying muguet fragrances side by side reveals an astonishing variety of very different renditions. Caron’s version, first released in 1952, is perhaps one of the most refined lilies of the valley…very ladylike, very proper, white gloves and lacy handkerchiefs, modesty and chastity. It is so dainty and innocent, it feels almost out of place in our rather graceless time…But an old-fashioned feel is not something I would ever resent in a fragrance, quite on the contrary, I think that Muguet de Bonheur’s wistful patina of old-worldliness is its most charming characteristic. Neither do I mind a distinct soapy undertone of the fragrance; I feel that it only adds to the maidenly charm of Muguet de Bonheur. What I don’t like about the scent is the abundance of heliotrope. Heliotrope and I are bitter enemies, and the doughy rascal of a note has spoiled many a scent for me. Objectively speaking, heliotrope is what makes the potentially sharp lily of the valley so delicate and soft here, and those who don’t mind the copious amounts of heliotrope and those who are usually wary of the high-pitched forcefulness of lily of the valley, should find Caron’s Muguet very delightful and very wearable. Le Muguet seems to be available at overstockperfume.com, $59.99 for 1.7oz. 3 can be bought directly from Art of Perfumery, at artofperfumery.com, €59.00 for 1.7oz. 1oz of Muguet de Bonheur in Parfum is right now sold at Parfum1.com for only $85.95, 1.7oz of Eau de Toilette costs $29.95, also at Parfum1.com.

Quel Amour by Annick Goutal

Quel Amour was created by Annick Goutal’s daughter, Camille, as both homage to her mother, and a valentine to her fiancé. This is one of my favorite Goutal creations, a beautiful, effervescent blend of floral (wild rose, peony, and geranium) and fruity (cranberry, red-currant, pomegranate, cherry, and wine peaches) notes. I am not a “pink” kind of a girl and shy away from fragrances that evoke that color, and Quel Amour is one of the very few pink scents that I love and wear. But then this is not a girly twirly pink a la Elle Woods, Quel Amour is a tender pink, the hue of the peonies, delicate, romantic and innocent. The year I was born, my great-grandfather planted a new shrub of peonies in my honor, in the garden of his country house; every summer, long after his death, they would bloom for me…one of the most touching and loving gifts I have ever received. I see those creamy-pink peonies everytime I smell Quel Amour. There is another reason why Quel Amour is one of the perfumes that remind me of my childhood. It is very reminescent of the candies I used to love as a child, called Barbaris, made with the barberries or berberries, bright red berries about the size of a pomegranate seed, with a tart, fruity flavour. They tasted sweet and yet also mouthwateringly sour, just the way Quel Amour smells. I find that tart and sweet quality absolutely irresistible; Quel Amour is truly one of the prettiest scents I have ever experienced. Quel Amour was last seen on scentiments for as little as $37.38 for 1,7 oz

Soda Exquise a.k.a. Mandragore by Annick Goutal

"Give me to drink mandragora... That I might sleep out this great gap of time My Antony is away." Shakespeare: Antony and Cleopatra Mandragore, the new fragrance from Annick Goutal, created by the house perfumer, Isabelle Doyen, in collaboration with Camille Goutal, was inspired by mandrake. The latter is the common name for members of the plant genus Mandragora belonging to the nightshades family. Their roots, which vaguely resemble a human figure, have long been used in magical spells and witchcraft. Described as “a bewitching and mysterious fragrance, within which the feminine and masculine merge together in secret harmony”, Mandragore has the notes of bergamot, black pepper, spearmint, star anis oil, mint, boxwood, ginger and mandrake. I will not be the first to do so, but I must note the disparity between the name and the perfume itself. The name "Mandragore" conjures certain dark, witchy images; Annick Goutal's version on the other hand is light and sparkly and not really mysterious. It starts bright and citrusy (bergamot), then star anis comes into play and that is the stage I probably could do without, but then ginger appears and Mandragore is transformed into a gently sweet almost gourmand scent. The drydown reminds me of the scent of Fresh Index's Soda Shampoo (mint, lavender, grapefruit), which is a compliment, because I love that smell. Mandragore is an effervescent, invigorating fragrance that successfully balances bright spiciness and gentle sweetness. If it were up to me to come up with the packaging and the name for this perfume, I would have opted to stick with Goutal's regular creamy boxes and transparent bottles; lovely as the purple color of the Mandragore packaging is, it is not descriptive of the vibrant, almost frizzy juice inside. As for the name, how about Soda Exquise? On a more serious note, I really like this fragrance and it is undoubtedly “full bottle worthy” for me, even if the said bottle is deceivingly purple. Mandragore can be found at Drugstore.com, $69.00 for 1,7oz or $95.00 for 3,3oz. *The ad for Mandragore is from Vogue.de; the photo of Soda Shampoo is from Fresh.com