Fall of the House of ̶U̶s̶h̶e̶r̶ Caron: Urn Fragrances

By Tom Back in 2008, my Scent Twin took a trip to Paris and stopped in at the Caron Boutique only to be disappointed by the reformulated Urn Fragrances. Now, I have sadly never been to Paris, but those fragrances were ones that I really adored (and reviewed here, here and here). So I hoped against hope that it wasn't as dire as Gaia painted it since they are now available at Luckyscent. I'm in mourning. It's not only true, it's worse. The previously heartbreaking Farnesiana is now a milky, almondy mess. Alpona isn't a complete washout, but it's about 50% of what I remember it being and Tabac Blond.. Oh, where to begin.. If I had never smelled the original, this still wouldn't appeal. It's just sort of, I don't know, not there. It's Lindsay Lohan as Elizabeth Taylor in a bottle. I'm not going to quote prices because I can't bring myself to go look it up. Just too sad.. I sampled several times at LuckyScent and referenced my samples of the previous versions from the Perfumed Court. You might be able to get the older formulations from them or Surrender to Chance Image: Wikipedia Commons

Russian Saturday: Pois de Senteur by Caron

By Alena "My name is Alena, I live with my three sons and husband in Haarlem, Amsterdam area in the Netherlands. Far in the past I was a chemical engineer, in the near future I will be a graduated homeopath, and at the moment I am delighted to be invited by Marina to share my impressions about perfumes here in PST. Every other Saturday I will write about fragrances I like. And I hope you'll enjoy!" Но порой, борясь с дремотой, Вдруг лукавый быстрый взгляд Отвлекался от латыни За окно в тенистый сад. Там в саду так много яблок На дорожках и в траве, Так и двинула б студента по латинской голове. Саша Черный (1880-1932!) Мода на душистый горошек возникла на излете Викторианской эпохи, когда услиями шотландского селекционера Хенри Экфордa было выведено множество разновидостей этого растения. Благодаря чудесам селекции душистый горошек, Lathyrus Odoratа, стал удивлять не только своим запахом, но и цветом и формой. Вплоть до Второй мировой войны духи на тему душистого горошка выпускали многие дома, но мне достоверно известно только о Горошках Guerlain. Мне довелось попробовать Pois de Senteur, cозданный Жаком Герленом в 1917 году. Флакону-фонарику на тот момент было около 75 лет, но его содержимое сохранилось лучше, чем фотографии времен молодости моей бабушки. Аромат был поразительно юн. Удивляла не только его сохранность, но и сам факт его существования. Pois de Senteur не вписывался в мои представления об ароматах того времени. В нем не было ничего из того, что у меня ассоциируется с классикой: ни пудры, ни альдегидов ни какой-бы там ни было классической базы. Если бы его сделали сейчас, это была бы идеальная Aqua Allegoria. Pois de Senteur Guerlain прозрачен, звонок и чист. Это легкий, хохочущий аромат летних цветов, не обремененных ни медом, ни пыльцой, лишь немного свежей зелени в придачу. Редкие ароматы, попробованные лишь однажды, оставляют у меня в памяти такие яркие впечатления. Но Pois de Senteur Guerlain это удалось. Pois de Senteur de Chez Moi Caron похож на своего герленовского предшественника, как луна на солнце. При всей кажущейся рустикальности аромата его действие происходит не на природе среди трав и цветов, а в тени дома. Пудра, присутствующая в каждом аромате Caron, не дает моему воображению покинуть его стены. Все знают, как неудобны эти совершенные пудры в использовании за пределами туалетного столика. Солнце едва проникает сквозь тяжелые гардины. В комнате царит прохлада и полумрак. Это Горошек Герлена не удержишь в доме ни запретами, ни запертыми дверями – выпрыгнет в окно. А горошек Карона будет прилежно корптеть над книгами и мечтать, время от времени бросая взгляд на скромный букетик душистого горошка в фарфоровой вазе. Поэтому я совсем не удивилась, увидев рекламу духов 1929 года: на туалетном столике рядом с флаконом духов стоит причудливая ваза с тоненькими веточками душистого горошка. Приятно, что с креативщиками эпохи арт-деко мы мыслим одинаково. С первых нот в Pois de Senteur прослеживаются две темы: шершавая, темная и яркая, гладкая как шелк, цветочная. Я благодарна создателю и хранителям аромата, которые не стали применять банального приема многих цветочных солифлоров – гесперидного старта. Оговорюсь, что речь идет о современных духах. Вместо этого я чувствую в них странную горечь, напоминающую вкус перезрелых семян гороха (огордного, Lathyrus sativus, семена душистого горошка ядовиты!) и может быть чуточку бергамота. В Pois de Senteur Caron так много "Mousse de Saxe", что посторонний нос может его принять за Tabac Blond, а мне в нем иногда чудится Nuit de Noel. Именно этот аккорд придает аромату знаменитую кароновскую сумеречноть, глубину и прохладу. Сквозь его темную вуаль пробивается чистый, как голос пятилетнего ребенка, запах душистого горошка, слепленный из гиацинтов, роз, ландышей и жасмина. Слепленный так ладно, что можно подумать, что из горошка научились получать полноценное парфюмерное сырье. Я скривлю душой, если скажу, что слышу партию каждого из этиих цветов. Но дует розы и жасмина не может не восхищать. Роза – жасмин, жасмин – роза, сообщающиеся сосуды парфюмерии, создают необыкновенную кривизну и пластичность пространства. Сколько ольфакторных иллюзий было ими создано! Как? Это до сих пор выше моего понимания. В Pois de Senteur Caron, как и Guerlain, я не слышу ни меда, ни пыльцы. Наверное она опала, пока цветы несли домой. Есть шершавость и пудровость, но она темная и мшистая. Утром от аромата остается нежное, сандалово-ванильное, кремовое послевкусие, как взгляд во вчерашний день. В этой точке, пожалуй, Pois de Senteur наиболее близок к Nuit de Noel. Pois de Senteur лучше всего носить в душную влажную погоду, когда небо среди бела дня вот-вот потемнеет от тяжелых грозовых туч. Эта темень, как и темень дамского будуара, совсем не угнетает. Дождь прольется и опять будет солнце. Летом дни так длинны! Я ношу Кароны, когда мне хочется сделать паузу в пути. Кароны ностальгичны и кому-то могут казаться старомодными. Но они не возвращают в прошлое, нет. Они лишь приостанавливают гонку дней и дают прочувствовать текущий момент времени. Они – настоящие. Pois de Senteur de Chez Moi (Ernest Daltroff, 1927): hyacinth, rose, cyclamen; jasmine, lily-of-the-valley, musk, sandalwood, virginia cedar, vanilla and lime. ______________________________________ The fashion for sweet peas began at the end of the Victorian epoch, after Scottish nurseryman Henry Eckford managed to grow various species of this plant. Thanks to the miracles of cross-breeding, sweet pea, Lathyrus Odoratа started to delight not only with its scent, but also with its color and shape. Before WWII, perfumes based on sweet pea were being released by many houses, although I know for sure only about Guerlain's. I got to try Pois de Senteur, created by Jacques Guerlain in 1917. The lantern bottle was 75 years old, however its contents were in better condition than photos from my grandmother's youth. The fragrance smelled amazingly young. Not only it's great condition but the very fact of its existence were surprising. Pois de Senteur did not fit my idea of the perfumes from that time. It didn't have any characteristics I associated with the classics, powder, aldehydes, a classical base. If it was launched today, it would have been an ideal Aqua Allegoria. Pois de Senteur Guerlain is transparent, vibrant and clean. It's a light, laughing scent of summery flowers not burdened by honey or pollen...just a little bit of fresh greenery as a bonus. Very few aromas, when tried only once, leave in my memory such vivid impressions. Pois de Senteur Guerlain managed that. Pois de Senteur de Chez Moi Caron is as similar to its predecessor as the moon is to the sun. Despite the seemingly rustic quality of the perfume, the action takes place not in the great outdoors, among grasses and flowers, but in the shade inside of a house. Powder, present in every Caron scent, does not let my imagination leave its walls. The sun barely penetrates heavy curtains. The room is cool and semi-dark. You can't contain Pois de Senteur Guerlain inside by closing the doors, it will jump out of the window. Caron's Pois de Senteur will pour over books and day-dream, once in a while glancing at a humble bouquet of sweet peas in a porcelain vase. I wasn't therefore surprised to see an ad from 1929: on a vanity table next to a perfume bottle there is an ornate vase with slender branches of sweet peas. Tt's nice to know that I think alike the marketing people from the era of Art Deco. From its top notes, Pois de Senteur follows two themes, one is rough and dark, the other vivid, smooth like silk and floral. I am grateful to the creators and keepers of the fragrance for not  employing the cliche trick of many soliflores, a hesperidic start. I must specify that I am talking about the modern parfum. Instead of citruses, I smell strange bitterness reminiscent of the odor of over-ripe seeds of peas (regular peas, Lathyrus sativus, seeds of sweet peas are poisonous!) and maybe just a hint of bergamot. Pois de Senteur Caron contains so much  "Mousse de Saxe" that, smelled in passing, it can be mistaken for Tabac Blond, and I sometimes smell in it Nuit de Noel. It is this accord that gives the perfume the trademark twilight quality of the Carons, its depth and chilliness. Through this accord, as if through a dark veil, seeps the smell of sweet pea, clear as a voice of a 5 year old, the smell molded out of hyacinths, roses, lilies of the valley and jasmin. It is molded so well that one would think sweet peas can be distilled. I would lie if I said that I hear a solo song of each of this flowers. But the duet of jasmine and rose is beautiful. Rose-jasmine, jasmine-rose, the communicating vessels of perfumery, create an unusual distortion and flexibility of the space. How many olfactory illusions have they created! How? This is beyond my understanding. In Pois de Senteur Caron, like in the Guerlain, I smell neither honey nor pollen. it must have been shaken off while the flowers were carried home. There is a roughness and a powderiness, but it is dark and mossy. In the morning, there is left on my skin a delicate, sandalwoody-vanillic, creamy undertone, like a glance into yesterday. At that stage, Pois de Senteur is probably the closest to Nuit de Noel. Pois de Senteur wears the best in humid warm weather, when the sky is about to get dark from heavy, stormy clouds. That darkness, just like the darkness of a boudoir, is not depressing. Rain will fall and the sun will shine again. Summer days are so long! I wear Carons when I want to  pause on my way. Carons are nostalgic and might seem old fashioned to some. But they don't return you to the past. They just stop the marathon of the days for a bit and allow you to feel the present moment. They are real and they the right now. Pois de Senteur de Chez Moi (Ernest Daltroff, 1927): hyacinth, rose, cyclamen; jasmine, lily-of-the-valley, musk, sandalwood, virginia cedar, vanilla and lime.

Caron Delire de Roses

By Marina OMG WTH, was my reaction. Well to be honest there was an F there instead of an H. I actually wanted to leave it at that as a "review" of the new Caron. But I guess one is not 13 and should act a little more mature than that. I have no recollection of what the official list of notes is for this rose fragrance and am not motivated enough to google. What I smell is a very sharp, nose-tingling grapefruit on top, what I imagine to be a generically pretty, pink-colored rose in the middle and an unexpected bread-like accord throughout the development. (Is bread the new oud? It seems to be in quite a few new launches.) I am the biggest fan of bready, doughy accords in perfume, but this one is not attractive.  It reminds me of whole wheat bread one can find in any supermarket, mushy and tasting like cardboard. Maybe in another arrangement it could have been more palatable, but, combined with "grapefruit" and a vaguely watery accord which haunts the heart of Delire de Roses, it is unpleasant.  Overall, the composition seems incongruous to me, as if the creators were torn between the "fresh rose" and "gourmand rose" concepts and decided to go for both, in one scent.  And this is what is supposed to replace the Caron rose fragrances that are said to be discontinued? OMG WTH. Already available in Caron boutique in NYC, Saks also seems to have it.

Who Is Afraid of Fruity Florals? Caron L'Accord 119

I've had a pleasure of wearing the formerly "Paris exclusive" L'Accord 119 for a while, thanks to Shelley, Notes from the Ledge. (Shelley and I are reviewing the perfume together today, so please  click over to her blog, when you are done, to read her impressions). I gave no thought  to its olfactory family, group and sub-group. Then the news came that Caron will be launching it in the States (possibly under a different name?) and is describing it as...a fruity floral. My first reaction was to be appalled. What a blasphemy! The exquisitely dark, baroque elegance of L'Accord 119 is as far removed from Heiress by Paris Hilton as the rarefied atmosphere of a Caron boutique is from a messy TJ Maxx in the local mall. As I walked by my perfume shelves later that night (the spirit of Carrie Bradshaw possessed me and) I wondered... When it comes to fruity florals, why are we so negative? Have the ubiquitousness of the generic representatives made the whole family seem inferior and turned us into snobs? And also, define a "fruity floral"! In Michael Edwards' detailed categorization, Floral / Crisp - Citrus Fruity or Floral /Fresh Citrus-Fruity is where you find Heiresses and Baby Dolls. Soft Floral/ Crisp - Citrus Fruity  boasts L'Artisan Parfumerur Orchidee Blanche and the 1987 Nina by Nina Ricci. Among Soft Floral /Fresh - Citrus Fruity, next to Tiffany's Trueste, you'll see XOXO Perfume by Victory International...The are also Fruity / Crisp  and Fruity / Fresh groups, which include scents heavier on fruit, like various summery Escadas. Société Française des Parfumeurs distinguishes between Floral Fruity Woody ("On a floral bouquet, with a woody undertone, fruity notes are added..." Examples...Jacques Fathe Iris Gris, 1947 and Hot Couture No 1 by Givenchy.) and Floral Fruity ("The floral "body" is still there, but new fruit notes are showing strongly..." Examples: Patou for Ever, 1998 and Tropical Punch by Escada, 2001).* Haarmann & Reimer Guide to the Feminine Notes, 1984 edition, does not have a fruity, a fruity floral or a floral fruity category. The closest would be their Floral Notes / floral-sweet (Faberge Babe, Piguet Fracas and Estee by Estee Lauder). The 1991 edition adds the Floral Fruity sub-category to the Floral: "these are fragrances, whose character is enhanced by radiant-fruity elements, some of them highly dominating."** It includes Hermes Amazone, Prescriptives Calyx and Molyneux Quartz, among others. There is also a lone representative of Floral / Fruity-Fresh in the face of Oleg Cassini II. Let's keep in mind that each fragrance manufacturer, each brand and each new perfume campaign might offer their own classification and understanding of what is fruity floral / floral fruity. The rather obvious conclusions are that not all FFs were created equal, that a "fruity floral" is not a swear term and that one (well, me) should neither be embarrassed to try an FF, caught enjoying an FF, nor offended when a favorite is called an FF. As for L'Accord 119, it is a gorgeous blend of creamy, just a tiny bit green jasmine, over-ripe blackberries and wonderfully rich, nutty, delectable musk. Wearing it, I am haunted by phantom whiffs of blackcurrant and pineapple, and find L'Accord to be a close relative of Patou's late, lamented Colony... Or rather, I'd call L'Accord the child of ménage à trois of Colony, L'Artisan's Mure et Musc and Caron's own Acaciosa. Having just concluded a wordy defense of fruity florals, I feel a little embarrassed making a case for L'Accord 119 not being called one. Undoubtedly, the fruits here are "showing strongly" and even "dominating" the floral accord and the composition in general. Having said that, it is impossible to ignore the dark, brooding, velvety yet dry, "very Caron" base of the blend. If it was up to me, I'd classify L'Accord the way Michael Edward classified Colony, as Mossy Woods / Crisp Citrus-Fruity or put it into Société Française des Parfumeur's Floral Fruity Woody category. Incidentally, the latter includes Aimez-Moi...and so there goes Caron's claim that L'Accord 119 is their first fruity floral. Call a Caron boutique to find out about L'Accord's availability. For Shelley's review of L'Accord, please, visit Notes from the Ledge. *Société Française des Parfumeur, Classification des Parfums et Terminologie, p. 8. **H&R Fragrance Guide to Feminine and Masculine Notes, 1991, p. 12. Image source, gamegossip.com and vi.sualize.us.

Caron News: L'Accord 119, a rose, an oud and a masculine

An inside source tell us (nothing like a little vagueness and an editorial we to make one feel ever so important, eh? - reminds me of this hilarious post by Brian) that, in March, Caron will release in the States L'Accord 119. This should come as welcome news to all of a handful of people familiar with it. I got to try the beautiful creation, which is far more complex than the "fruity-floral" description Caron is seemingly labeling it with (alhtough there certainly IS fruit, done in the luscious, ripe, dark manner of Patou Colony), thanks to the generosity of Shelley, Notes from the Ledge, who, along with Octavian, 1000 Fragrances, was the first to talk about L'Accord 119. Shelley's article can be found here, Octavian's here. Apart from L'Accord, Caron will also release: - A rose fragrance, "a fresh, light rose, evocative of sweet rose milk. Rose, lotus, lily of valley, jasmine absolute, lychee" -An oud, "rose, rockrose, jasmine, cedar, saffron, musk". It remains to be seen, whether this is one of the existing Caron ouds, Oud, Secret Oud(h) and Royal Oud, or a new creation. My guess is, one of the former. Secret Oudh is the only one I tried; it had the kind of baroque grace, which to me is a uniquely Caron quality. Elegant opulence, luxury in hushed tones is another way to put it. Also, it was not particularly oud-heavy, which is not necessarily a bad thing in the context of the style of this house. -A masculine scent, with "fig and fruity notes, cedar, sandalwood, basil, verbena". Call your Caron fragrance consultant to find out if they might be agreeable to taking a pre-order. In New York, Caron is hidden in Phyto Universe, 715 Lexington Avenue (58th Street); 212-308-0270. Edited to add that you can ask for Diane when you phone for pre-orders.

Instant Vintage: Caron Nuit de Noel

By Marina "You gather things to you like an old road. You are peopled with echoes and nostalgic voices." Pablo Neruda, Your Breast Is Enough Nuit de Noel is one of those perfumes about which I could never form an opinion. (Clearly there are a few of those, might be a topic for a post.) It's not that I didn't like it, I liked it just fine. I certainly had an utmost respect for it. It's just...something didn't click. And yet it was bothering me that, whenever I was wearing it, I felt as if I was right on the edge of getting the gist of it. You know how a name you can't remember seems to be tickling the very tip of your tongue? I tried Nuit de Noel vintage, I tried it not-recent, I tried it new. This month, emboldened by the newly sparkled interest in all thing perfume and by re-discovery of certain ingredients, genres and brands, I tried to find a sample of it in the chaos of my sample drawer, had no luck and finally ordered one from Les Senteurs. Which is to say, it was not a vintage sample, and it was an Eau de Toilette. I wore it and enjoyed the fragrance like never before. It still bothered me though that I couldn't formulate what the gist, the tag-line of Nuit de Noel was for me. I knew that I knew it, I just didn't know what it was that I knew, you know? Then the other day (are you still with me?) I put on Chanel No 46, a sample of which has been buried in that limbo drawer for many years. And that is when I finally "got" Nuit de Noel. You know how vintage fragrances inevitably acquire a certain beautifully hazy quality, a certain delightful indistinctness akin to that of an old sepia photograph?..No matter how different any vintage scents that you might try are, they would have this slight patina of olfactory dust, the texture of old Persian lamb fur, still glamorous but worn so thin that now it looks and feels more like velvet. The kind of texture that makes it hard to distinguish notes in a composition, leaving one with a general impression of a Perfume and a feeling of vague nostalgia. This is what even the new Nuit de Noel smells like to me. It is Instant Vintage. Sure, I could make an effort and distinguish the brighter flowers (jasmine, rose) in the top notes of Nuit de Noel, the creamy tuberose enhanced by sandalwood in the heart, the Persian fur of the ambery, musky base and the Mousse de Saxe hovering over every step of the development like a ghost of the belle epoque long gone...But I don't want to. It would ruin the sepia magic. Available in Caron boutiques, at the aforementioned Les Senteurs and at a lot of online discounteres, for example at Scented Monkey, for $30.78 for 50ml of EDT. Image by Sebastian Faena, to whom I apologize for my photo-shopping.

Caron Parfum Sacré and Amouage Lyric Woman: Battle of the Diva Roses

By Donna I have been doing a lot of testing recently, with so many sample vials in the pipeline that I am wearing something different almost every day, and sometimes it's several samples at a time. This is good in one way, since my curiosity about perfume is virtually insatiable; on the other hand, sometimes I get so caught up in trying new scents that my old favorites don't get the attention they deserve. Naturally I am constantly adding new favorites to the list all the time, even though most of these never get to the stage of a full bottle purchase. I just don't have that kind of budget, or the space in which to store them. A fragrance that is new to me, whether it's vintage, something that has been on the market for awhile or a brand new introduction, has to be a real knockout to get on my short list of things I would actually consider buying, especially when it's a newer one that cannot be had for a discounted price. When I make one of my rare full price bottle purchases, it's because the perfume is truly outstanding and something I have fallen seriously in love with. One perfume I never want to be without has been in my collection for twenty years now, the 1990 masterpiece by the house of Caron, Parfum Sacré. For me it is ageless, timeless, unique, sensuous and majestic. Even though it is finally warming up to real spring weather where I live, I have had an urge to wear it a lot as an antidote to random sampling, to remind me of what a truly great perfume can be; it's one of those perfumes that I get a true craving for and when that feeling hits, nothing else will do. It is also very powerful, and must be applied with restraint if I am planning to go out in public, but if I have a day (or night) at home, I spray it on liberally. For me it is one of those mind-altering, transporting scents that are rarely encountered, and yet the quest to find such a one is what drives me, and other fragrance lovers, to seek out yet more new things to try in search of that elusive experience. Parfum Sacré's rosy beauty is wrapped in a Byzantine cloak of classic Oriental elements such as vanilla, musk, civet, myrrh and frankincense, embellished with a generous twist of black pepper. I think of it as being primarily a rose perfume, although it's not really a rose soliflore at all but an Oriental rose blend in which the rose takes center stage instead of being a seamless part of the whole. Yet its composition is seamless indeed, and it's not a realistic rose by any means. In spirit and somewhat in character it resembles the original version of Lancôme's Magie Noire, Paloma Picasso's Mon Parfum or Guerlain's peerless holographic rose Nahema, rich and opulent fragrances that are anything but dewy floral re-creations of rose blossoms. They are more like rose Rembrandts; chiaroscuro works of art whose dark complexity makes them objects of desire. I have been wearing my Parfum Sacré with more than my usual frequency since I just acquired another bottle of the original formula; yes, sadly it has been redone, and not in a good way. (If you want to buy this, look for the EDT in the solid gold box or the EDP in the gold-spangled black box, and the old broad-based bottle style with the large ivory-toned cap. You will probably have to go online and search these out.) Now another contender in this exclusive “diva rose” category (I also call them “bombshell rose” perfumes) has caught my attention. I opened my sample of Amouage Lyric Woman (2008) that I received in a swap and it took my breath away. For some reason I had the idea in my head that Lyric was one of the “lesser” Amouage feminine scents (although they are all good, some are great) and not up to the standard of Gold, Ubar or Epic. I had no idea it was this good! Its basic structure is much like that of the Caron, but its spicy side is comprised of saffron, ginger and cardamom instead of black pepper, and the signature Amouage frankincense note is somewhat softer and less obvious. The rose is truly exquisite and it is that same type of lustrous Oriental rose essence that lies at the heart of Parfum Sacré. Its character is that of a red Damask rose, almost smoky in its intensity, as dense as though it were made of rose petal preserves meant to be consumed. Joining it are luscious jasmine and ylang-ylang, along with iris root and fresh, sweet angelica, a note that I really love and which gives real distinction to this perfume. Among the many base notes in this composition are sandalwood, Tonka bean, musk, vetiver and yes, real oakmoss! (The house of Amouage does not bow to IFRA pressure, which another reason to admire and support this house.) The longer I wear Lyric Woman the better it gets, and the more the incense note wraps itself around my nose, captivating me utterly. The rose keeps weaving in and out, never really going away but retreating behind the incense and woody notes only to come dancing out again in a swirl of pillowy sweetness. Every time I put my nose to my wrist I get something different; I know that the listed notes are only a few of the many high quality ingredients that must be in it to create this effect. It is fascinating, captivating, sexy as hell and definitely in the same class as Gold or my favorite Amouage, Ubar, of which I prefer the original to the reintroduction but both are fabulous. The second time I tested Lyric Woman, I left it on overnight, and in the morning I was greeted by a truly delightful sensation. The rose was still there, not just the base notes, and it had turned into a sheer, misty abstract rose reminiscent of Rochas Tocade, but it was floating on a puffy cloud of incense instead of vanilla, perfectly combined with the rose. This “second perfume” was just as wonderful as it was on the first day. Lyric Woman has impressive sillage and excellent longevity on me, which is to be expected of this Oriental floral style, and a little goes a long way. That's good, because this is expensive perfume, and the 50 ml size sells for over $200 USD; it can be found for a little bit less if you do some comparison shopping, but you will not find a real bargain, and understandably, since it is relatively new and composed of the finest materials available. For those who can afford it, it's really worth the money, more so than many other perfumes that cost as much or more. You could think of it as a bargain of sorts, because you will definitely wear it. It will not sit on the shelf and gather dust after a few wearings because it was disappointing. If I had a bottle of this I would do exactly the same thing with it as I do with Parfum Sacré. I would behave myself in public, wearing only a discreet dab, but in private I would use it lavishly, even excessively. After all, that's what real divas do. Full disclosure: Parfum Sacré is from my personal collection. Lyric Woman was a private sample received as a gift. Amouage perfumes can be purchased from the Amouage Web site or at finer perfume shops such as Luckyscent. Caron perfumes are sold at better perfume shops and department stores. Image credit: “Flamenco Dancer” by British artist Gerry Langton, via gerrylangton.co.uk

Caron Les Plus Belles Lavandes: Perfume Review

This year, I have been rediscovering lavender, and, of course, summer is the perfect season to enjoy the genre. Czech & Speake's Oxford & Cambridge is my "traditional", straight-up, cold and brisk lavender of choice. I also enjoy the note in the context of two Caron masculines, Le 3ème Homme, where it is is served with moss and amber, and L'Anarchiste, which mixes it into an "icy fruity" cocktail. And of course, my top lavender choice (and the main summer fave) is Lostmarh'c's L'Eau de L'Hermine, where lavender is soft, slightly sugared and brightened by the presence of a honeyed citrus accord. With Less Plus Belles Lavandes Caron adds to my small collection of lavenders something that has been missing there: an oriental lavender. Blended with quite a bit of vanilla and a fairly generous dose of amber, this is how the scent manifests itself on my skin - as a fresh oriental. At times, that vanilla-amber-musk accord even tricks me into thinking, for a shocked half a second, that I am wearing CK Obsession. No, really! But forgive me for describing the scent in reverse chronology. Less Belles Plus Lavandes starts with as realistically a lavender as it gets, almost out-shining the herbal-fresh Oxford & Cambridge in its chilly verdancy. Then vanilla tiptoes in, softening the blend delicately. Its presence becomes more and more noticeable and finally culminates in that oriental base, which keeps surprising me every time I wear this fragrance. I have only one negative thing to say about Less Belles Plus Lavandes: I dislike its bottle. This lavender is complex enough and fancy enough to warrant something a little more elegant than the utilitarian and unremarkable container. I wish the scent came in one of Caron's rectangular splash flacons with a tall stopper...So in protest against the bottle, I am not posting its image as an accompaniment to the text. Instead, you are forced to look at yours truly, giddy among the "samovars". Is the new Caron The Most Beautiful Lavender? Well, it is one of the very, very attractive once for sure. But visiting the well-hidden Caron boutique in NYC and spending time with delightful Diane is the most beautiful experience. You can find it inside Phyto Universe, 715 Lexington Ave (58th St).

Caron L'Anarchiste: Perfume Review

There are various versions of notes for Caron L'Anarchiste; most insist that it contains orange blossom and mandarin, Luca Turin calls it apple-lavender. Midtown Perfume states that the scent contains pear and basil, and that, to me, seems the closest to what I sense in L'Anarchiste. The way the fragrance begins, with that minty freshness of an unripe pear paired with the hints of de riguer floral-herbal cleanliness of lavender, one can't help but feel that the dainty juice won't fill the very big shoes of the name. "Iced" fruits do not anarchy create. As the composition progresses, however, and the herbal greenness of basil and rosemary and the earthy verdancy of vetiver become apparent, the blend becomes significantly more interesting. It matures, acquires an edge and a raw sort of depth. There is a certain, strangely attaractive cold abrasiveness in the woody accord of cypress and cedar; the dry, stark woods pose an appealing contrast to the sparkly fruitiness of pear. It is when the fruits are placed on that resinous background that it becomes possible to place them in a sort of...dare I even say it... "nihilistic" context. The fathers might have never dared to wear anything not obviously masculine, but the sons are unafraid to spray themselves with pears and apples. And no, hard as you try, it is impossible to stretch the playfully unruly message of the perfume so fas as to say that it evokes Bakunin. An anarchist it is not. It is an adorable rebellous middle child at most. But that is a whole lot adorable. Available at all sorts of online retailers, fairly inexpensively.

Caron Aimez Moi: Perfume Review

The rediscovery and re-evaluation of 2008 continues in 2009 as I keep falling for scents I used to dislike before. Or, in the case of Aimez Moi, used to loathe, absolutely loathe. Everything about it was wrong, from the heavy, burnt sweetness to the prominent anise note to the bunny-boiler name. Funny how, when we all of a sudden fall in love with something or someone, all that bothered us about them before becomes either a wonderfully attractive feature or a cute quirk. Thus the burnt aspect of Aimez Moi is what I now like about it the most: the heavy cream of honeyed violets, peach, helotrope and tonka beans is generously spiced by cardamom, cloves and anise, and the piquant mix lends the composition a sweetly-smoky quality. To balance the fire with ice and to, simultaneously, underscore the chilly side of anise and cardamom, there is mint. The effect is complex; the composition develops slowly, at a sensual, leisurely pace. Unlike before, I now see anise not as a second most prominent note after violets, but as a beautifully balanced part of a hot-cold spicy accord. It does not bother me in the least, in fact, anisophobic as I am, I find it utterly delectable in the candied pudding of Aimez Moi. I tried the Ropion's creation in eau de toilette and found it, as with most of his perfumes, to be very rich and long-lasting, with the kind of sillage that I adore: the one that envelopes the wearer in the most delicate of gauze and is always present although never overwhelming. Aimez Moi is floral, gourmand, fruity, oriental... it is a multi-faceted golden and purple gem of a scent. It longs to be loved, and it is impossible not to love it. Which brings me to the subject of the name. It reminds me of one of my favorite songs, Lovefool by The Cardingans...And when you are a fool for love, "love me love me" IS what you keep saying like a mantra...although perhaps not out loud. And this week one is expected to be romantic. So let us, shall we? Aimez Moi is widely available online, fairly inexpensively. Image is by John-Paul Pietrus.

The Third Man by Caron: Perfume Review

Le 3ème Homme was, in 1985, Caron's third offering for men (and yes, it was supposedly inspired by the eponymous movie). It remains one of their best. In my opinion, it is in fact one of the most attractive masculine scents created by anybody ever. And, as is often the case with chypres meant for men, it smells exquisite on feminine skin...in that chic noli me tangere way all good chypres do, only more so. I am ordinarily not a big fan of lavender and thus the aromatic genre in general. And I am certainly not a fan of anise. In The Third Man, however, both notes are absolutely beautiful. Lavender gives the composition an attractively chilly feel, an intriguing aloofness without any harshness. This handsome stranger, tempts lavender, is someone you would be sorry not to get to know. Anise, together with citrus, lends the unexpectedly almost-gourmand accord of vanilla and tonka bean a certain inedible quality, a thrillingly poisonous aspect. This charmer with a sweet smile, warns anise, is someone you will one day regret meeting. The spicy notes of geranium and carnation continue the piquant theme and further heat the blend. The mossy, ambery, woody base is the very epitome of classic chypre elegance. The Third Man is impeccable, dark and deep. They say, third time is lucky and I am sure a lot of people got lucky whilst wearing this. To find out if it will do its magic for you, look for Le 3ème Homme on perfume.com, among other places.

Caron 3eme Homme

By Tom The eighties were a time when everything was big: the Reagan years featured giant shoulder pads on women, balloon pleated pants on men and hairdos on both that resembled lions manes in both breadth, height and desperate need of a good conditioner. Everything was about the flash and the glitz; "Dynasty" and "Dallas" ruled the airwaves and the scents of the times could double as chemical weapons when applied with the abandon that was common at that time. Trust me, I lived through it. Being trapped in an Express elevator for 50 stories with some dude who bathed in Lagerfeld is not a happy memory. On the other hand that's the decade where Annick Goutal debuted as perhaps the first true niche house, so... It's also the decade that Caron brought out 3eme Homme, ostensibly named after the Orson Welles film from 1949. 3eme is a big fragrance, if not nearly as large as some of the other scents from the 80's; it really does seem like a 40's scent filtered through the eye of the ironic 80's. It's a fougere, with a slap-you lavender that's bright and spikey. Just when you think you have it pegged, it takes a sharp left into jasmine and ginger that takes the scent into androgyny. The sharp lavender never leaves the composition, even unto the woody, powdery and musky drydown, and that's a good thing; the he-said/she-said play between warm floral and chilly lavender is a delight, and a nice reminder that the 80's weren't all about sequined jumpsuits and mall hair. It also makes it a scent that would be perfectly suitable for a woman in a Kate Hepburn in Pants sort of way so ladies, feel no compunction about stealing this one. 3eme Homme is available at e-tailers at shockingly low prices, mostly around $35. This makes it cheap enough to want to spray with abandon, but I would resist that urge. This might not be the loudest concoction ever brewed, but in a decade that screamed at the top of it's lungs even a booming voice can be drowned out. In this decade of meek, watery little scents this could be a bit much...

Perfume Review: Caron N'Aimez Que Moi

Created in the beginning of World War I, N'Aimez Que Moi was meant to be an oath of faithfulness, of willingness to wait, to love only Him, and a manifestation of hope that He, despite the distances between, will love only Her. Times changed, we became that much more sophisticated or, rather, cynical. We wouldn't dare to pronounce, Love Only Me, in fear of being seen for what we really are, vulnerable and unsure. And yet, in the heart of hearts, we, the urbane, proud, nonchalant and afraid of absolute commitment, all carry that simple and poignant desire to be loved forever and ever above all others and to love just as much in return. To get through tough times of separation and anxiety and to live ever after the uncomplicated life of happiness. The simple blend of N'Aimez Que Moi is as old-fashioned and as forever modern and meaningful as the feeling it was supposed to commemorate. The sweetness of rose is enhanced by a touch of vanilla. The orris accord adds to the composition the endearingly retro powdery feel that I adore. The very subtle lilac note freshens the candied blend and makes it that much more fragile, that much more melancholic. The satisfyingly solid, warm base of sandlawood and amber is a promise of happy end, an assurance that, as Bulgakov's Woland said, in the end "everything will turn out right, the world is built on that." Available at Caron Boutiques. Image source, gucci.com.

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.

Kissing cousins: En Avion and Vol de Nuit

En Avion by Caron Luca Turin’s description of En Avion in his Le Guide, as a fragrance fit for Sam Spade’s fiancée intrigued me enormously. He also describes this perfume as Olympian and suitable for an Amazon. According to Caron, En Avion was created as a homage to the first women of the skies (Adrienne Bolland, Hélène Boucher and Maryse Bastié), the adventurous ones, the ones who braved the elements. After sampling En Avion, I am not convinced about future Mrs. Spade and especially about a Greek goddess wearing this, but that is definitely what an Amazon might smell like. In fact, a woman wearing En Avion would be a great match for someone who wears Muscs Koublai Khan. That would be a union made in horse-riding barbarian steppe heaven. The official list of notes (“Orange tree, rose, jasmine, carnation…Totally new balance of rich flowers on a dry, spicy, wooded base.”) does not mention any animalic notes, but they are there, to my nose. The same “circus smell” as in Koublai Khan hit me when I first tried En Avion. It is not as wild as in the former but it sure is there. Not entirely unpleasant, weirdly captivating, En Avion is one of the most unusual perfumes I have ever tried. Vol de Nuit by Guerlain Vol Nuit is yet another aviation-related scent that I find to have animal accords. There must be some connection there, but it eludes me. Vol de Nuit was named after Antoine de saint Exupery’s novel, in which a pilot loses the control of his plane, while his newly wed wife is in the control tower, desperately waiting for any signs of life from his aircraft. It feels almost wrong that Vol de Nuit, this incredibly romantic story of love, is animalic on my skin. Think En Avion's prettier gentler younger sister. Think Muscs Koublai Khan's very distant relative. Perhaps it is jasmine playing its cruel indole game with me again. I don't know. All I know, there is something a little dirty and sensual in this fragrance, but that sensuality is suppressed. Fearless En Avion left behind her classy upbringing and eloped with Koublai Khan, while Vol de Nuit stayed at home, met her pilot and we all know the rest of the story. *The painting is An Amazon, by Franz von Stuck.

Sacred Feminine: Parfum Sacre by Caron

It is hard to believe that Parfum Sacre was created as recently as 1990, this incredibly beautiful perfume, an immaculate, soft, classic, timeless blend. With notes of myrrh, musk, vanilla, rose, jasmine, pepper, cinnamon, coriander, Parfum Sacre is something straight out of the Song of Songs, “an orchard of pomegranates with choice fruits…with every kind of incense tree, myrrh and aloes and all the finest spices…” It starts as a gentle, whispery rose and vanilla blend on my skin, with tiny sparkles of pepper adding discreet spiciness to the composition. Cinnamon and jasmine, two notes I find rather hard to wear, are not obvious to my nose here, this story really is all about roses, vanilla and musk. As the fragrance develops further, incense tiptoes in, and this is sweet, warm incense, very far removed from the cold grey scents like Avignon or Passage d’Enfer. Parfum Sacre is all about warmth, colors red, black and dark gold. Having said that, there is nothing overly grand or imposing about this perfume, don’t let the name lead you to expect a heady voluptuous High Priestess kind of scent, this is a different kind of sacred, the one that is kept in reverent secrecy and related in whispers. Song of Songs aside, what this fragrance really brings to mind are the images of Sacred Feminine and the theories of the Goddess in the Gospels. Yes, I did read and like The Da Vinci Code and it obviously shows, but think about it- roses and myrrh, what other perfume would be more appropriate to personify Mary Magdalene? Have the members of the Priory of Sion infiltrated Caron in the 1990s? Perhaps, given the history of all the wonderful Caron creations, they were present there from the very beginning. I will leave you with Padraic Pearse's "Song for Mary Magdalene": O woman of the gleaming hair, (Wild hair that won men's gaze to thee) Weary thou turnest from the common stare, For the shuiler Christ is calling thee. O woman of the snowy side, Many a lover hath lain with thee, Yet left thee sad at the morning tide, But thy lover Christ shall comfort thee. O woman with the wild thing's heart, Old sin hath set a snare for thee: In the forest ways forspent thou art But the hunter Christ shall pity thee. O woman spendthrift of thyself, Spendthrift of all the love in thee, Sold unto sin for little pelf, The captain Christ shall ransom thee. O woman that no lover's kiss (Tho' many a kiss was given thee) Could slake thy love, is it not for this The hero Christ shall die for thee? *The painting is Mary Magdalene in the Desert by Jusepe de Ribera, 1640-41, Museo del Prado, Madrid.