L’Artisan Parfumeur Ile Bourbon Candle

by Olfactoria When I look at the name of Île Bourbon, I expect – and so would many, I guess – a vanilla candle. Do we have many vanilla candles already? If you are anything like me, the answer is yes. But Île Bourbon is more than a vanilla scent. Evoking a tropical paradise, after one of which it is named after all, Île Bourbon smells gloriously fresh, floral, spicy and softly sweet with a little darkness added. It is exotic and warm, it smells exactly like the soft, golden light of a candleflame looks. Sit down with a good book, light that candle and start dreaming. It works like a charm. Île Bourbon includes notes of vanilla, orange, citrus and nutmeg and is available at L’Artisan Parfumeur.

Come On, Cumin – Review: L’Artisan Parfumeur Al Oudh

By Olfactoria I am not the world’s greatest admirer of oud. That is no secret. So you are probably asking yourself: What is she doing reviewing another Oud scent? And I am telling you this is not any old oud scent, but THE oud of the last years, an oud my hero Bertrand Duchaufour created. (And yes, I am a fan, and I won’t stop saying so any time soon, please let me be, I never adored teenie bands, so I am living my hero worship phase now.) So, who am I to go on ignoring this??? Especially since a sample found its way to me thanks to the lovely T. of Fragrant Reviews. His and his congenial co-author N.’s review is quickly cited, since the two boys review perfumes in 140 characters or less – twitter appropriate – I envy such conciseness: Sweet & funky oud with an animalistic vibe, coupled with dry leather & woods. Fairly linear. Barnyard Chic. Al Oudh was created in 2009 by the aforementioned BD and includes notes of cumin, cardamom, pink pepper, neroli, rose, castoreum, civet, leather, musk, oud, sandalwood, Atlas cedar, patchouli, myrrh, incense, vanilla and tonka bean. There is no getting around it – Al Oudh has a certain B.O. vibe for me. Cumin is not my friend as well and when there is too much, I get almost sick. Sadly, therefore glorious perfumes likeJubilation 25 (Amouage) or Absolue pour le Soir (Maison Francois Kurkdjian) are not for me, as much as I get and appreciate the beautiful perfume beneath the cumin, I cannot get past the stink. Al Oudh is treading borderline territory. There is just enough cumin to make me a little nervous, but not enough to all out dismiss it. The beautiful perfume underneath is very present for me here. And, cumin aside, it is a beautiful perfume. The oud is smooth and serene, the spices, the musk, the leather, the woods – all make up a powerful and highly interesting and likeable perfume. I think Al Oudh is one of the most interesting ones in the L’Artisan line up. I would love to smell it on a man (but I have not a chance to try it on my own, cumin is not his favorite either). I can appreciate it, but I will leave it to somebody else. See Tom’s take on this blog here. Image source: lartisanparfumeur.com, vegetariantimes.com

Dearest Readers, Watch Me Eat My Words!

By Marla Some of you read, or joined in with, March’s recent review on Perfume Posse of MDCI’s La Belle Helene, the one with PEAR. I sure did. I hate pears! I hate their weird, grainy texture, I loathe their mottled and bruised skins, and mostly, I can’t stand the way they taste! So I had to express myself to March via poetry: March: You do not like the scent of pear?/ You do not like it anywhere?/You do not like it in your nose?/On your fingers or your toes? Me: I do not like the scent of pear./ I do not like it anywhere./ I do not like it with a goat./I do not like it on a stoat./ I do not like it on a train./ I do not like it in the rain./ I do not care for scent of pear./ I will not wear it anywhere! I think my feelings came across clearly in that exchange. Soon after arriving at my new tropical home, I get a little welcome package with L’Artisan Parfumeur’s Mon Numero 1 (rumored to be Singapore’s). That’s right. The one with PEAR. Did I dare to wear the pear? I did, and, like Sam I Am’s stubborn friend, I loved it! Mon Numero 1 is primarily fresh, green pear, mimosa, and white musk. It’s a light-infused, pale green, and goes well with the dawn here on the Atlantic Ocean. Mimosa absolute can range from almost doughy-powdery to honey-sweet, even, sadly, to cloying cat pee. In Numero Uno, it’s a celadon version, just barely sweet, very delicate, lightly powdery. For both the pear and mimosa, the super-sweet, amber tones have been cut out, leaving only the most delicate shadings for the wearer’s appreciation. The white musk rounds out the pairing, and that’s really about it. The simplicity works. Longevity is several hours, and then I want to start all over again. So Bertrand Duchaufour has pulled another rabbit out of another hat, and I officially eat my words. Green eggs and ham for me! The Mon Numero series will be debuting online and in several cities in June, 2011.

In a Holiday Humor: L'Artisan Coeur de Vetiver Sacre & Amouage Memoir Man

By Marina With Coeur de Vétiver Sacré, L'Artisan Parfumeur promises to take the wearer to the "magic East". On my skin, the fragrance never makes it quite that far. It goes down Queens Blvd and Long Island Expy, with final destination being my favorite Russian grocery store, called Monya & Misha, in Rego Park. Not very magic, you say? Well, when one is craving one's ancestors' food, it is! Inside the store we head right to the pickles section. Monya & Mitya has a big table with buckets full of barrel-marinated tomatoes, gherkins, cabbage, aubergines...you name it, they marinate it. That unglamorous, badly lit little section might just be my favorite place in all NYC. To put a long story short, and you've already guessed it, Coeur de Vétiver Sacré smells to me like pickles or rather like that whole corner at Monya & Mitya's...a green, dill-like, raw, earthy aroma, slightly rotting in the most appetizing manner. Coeur de Vétiver Sacré might disappoint the hardcore vetiver fans; were it not for "vétiver" in the name, I wouldn't have guessed that the composition was meant to be vetiver-centered. I am not complaining though. To a Russian, pickles (with a shot of icy vodka to raise a toast to New Year) are indeed sacré. When one over-indulges, one wants to detox, not in the least to detox spiritually. Here is where Amouage Memoir Man comes in. With notes of basil, mint, lavender, absinthe, frankinsence, leather and a whole bunch of other good stuff, on me it basically smells of piney insense. The chilly herbs are fairly pronounced, the leather is not, the base is all cedarwood...but overall my impression is just that- cold, piney incense. This is the scent of a brisk walk in the morning, the kind of morning that Pushkin described as "frost and sunshine"...the snow is shining, the air is biting your throat with its iciness...everything is suddenly clear and quiet in your head and your soul...you walk through a pine forest to a small wooden church, you inhale the incense, you are at peace with yourself and the world... A bit of a jump from Rego Park, Queens, to Pushkin's Russia, but hey, such is a transportive power of perfume. Quite possibly, neither of the fragrances smell on me as creators intended, but hey, that's skin chemistry and cultural background for ya. And finally, expertly and seriously written reviews these were not, but hey, Holidays should be fun. Which fragrances smell on you like nothing you'd expect from the list of notes, surprising you with odd associations? Do share! Coeur de Vetiver Sacre is available at Barneys, $135.00 for 100ml; Memoire Man can be found at Luckyscent, $260.00 for 100ml. Image is by Steven Meisel.

In Which I Nearly Have an Opinion (L'Artisan Parfumeur Nuit de Tubereuse)

By Marina Steve (to Patrick about some fabric samples): You have an opinion yet? Patrick: Nope! Nothing! Keep trying to have an opinion but nothing happens in my head. (...) Steve: Well? Jeff: I nearly had an opinion about that one. Steve: What was it? Jeff: It's got a lot of lines. Steve: OK. What do you think about that? Jeff: I don't know. Coupling, Season 2, Her Best Friend's Bottom I don't often suffer from a lack of opinions when it comes to perfume. And I basically invariably "get" Duchaufours work. So I can't really explain why I "keep trying to have an opinion" about Nuit de Tubereuse "but nothing happens in my head." Here is what I've been able to scrape up: - It is Strange-but-Wearable, which is one of the qualities in fragrance that creates perfume fanatics out of regular people. Have it not been for a couple of L'Artisans and Lutenses way back when, I probably wouldn't have been doing what I do now. (Have it not been for a couple of timeless and impeccable Chanels and Guerlains, I wouldn't have been doing what I do either, classic perfection is after all as fascinating as contemporary/niche oddness...but I digress). The fragrance is a rather bizarre-yet-harmonious, jolie laide mix of tuberose, mango and rubber, a unique take on tuberose ...And so, as Robin said, "Nuit de Tubéreuse is exactly the sort of perfume that keeps me blogging." - It is a unique, but true take on tuberose. Both the fruity (in this case, mango instead of the usual coconut, but this is where uniqueness comes into play) and the rubbery facets of tuberose are highlighted to perfection. - It is a vivid perfume, I see it in color, which for me, as a visual person, is a big deal. To be precise, I see it as hot pink. - It is a very "Duchaufour" fragrance, which is a plus in and of itself, and also I appreciate when a perfumer's signature is perceptible in his or her work. All that extravagant, exuberant, pink voluptuousness rests on Duchaufour's trademark dry, earthy-resinous base. The contrast of the two is very appealing; I like a good contrast in perfume. -It is different enough from L'Artisan's old Tubereuse, which is all tuberose and no quirks (speaking of classic perfection...) to justify having both in the line. There is also La Chasse Aux Papillons Extreme, but one tends to forget about that one. That said...I still don't really know what I think about all that...I missed a chance to wear the scent in the heat of summer, which is when big florals bloom on me, so maybe I'll form an opinion next year. What do you think of Nuit de Tubereuse? Available wherever L'Artisan is sold, $115.00-$155.00. Image source, L'Artisa Parfumeur.

L'Artisan Parfumeur Al Oudh

By Marina A darker and, arguably, more broodingly handsome cousin of Eau d'Italie's Bois d'Ombrie and Baume du Doge, Al Oudh has inherited the same dusty date note as the former and raw earthiness of saffron as the latter. (Funny that this new L'Artisan creation of Duchaufour's makes me think of his Eau d'Italie scents, not L'Artisans.) What sets Al Oudh apart from the relatives at Hotel le Sirenuse are, yes, oud and cumin. When I first started on the path of perfume obsession way back when (a long time ago, it feels, when dinosaurs lived with man and died in the flood) there existed such a fairly widespread phenomenon as cuminophobia. Perhaps, fragrance lovers nowadays aren't scared by the sweet sweatiness of the note, but I feel the warning is in order just in case: the warm, velvety stinkiness of cumin dominates the first half of Al Oudh's development and is mighty perceptible in the second half. To the point where one might ask, where is oud? Oud does emerge towards the end but it is ... Duchaufour's take on the note. It is dense and strangely airy at the same time and smoky in a paradoxically transparent sort of way ...a thin strip of smoke coming out of a dry gray pebble...this is an image I see when I smell the oud and incense notes of this fragrance. But I digress from the star note of the blend, the cumin. Accompanied by a soupçon of cardamom, quite a bit of vanilla and the aforementioned dates, it is creamy and rich. One doesn't know whether to hunger after its deliciousness or to be perversely titillated by its dirtiness. In other words, it's how a cumin accord should be done. As for oud...this is not an oud perfume for the oud purists, but one for the fans of Duchaufour's talent for modern and unique interpretation of traditional ingredients and popular inspirations. Available wherever L'Artisan is sold, $155 for 100ml.

Orient Express: Traversée du Bosphore

By Tom L'Artisan is a house that I kind of have a love/meh relationship with. Frankly I think it's me. I admit it, I am an American, more specifically an (immigrant) Californian, even more specifically a resident of Beverly Hills, where the bling is big. I saw a Bugatti Veyron making a left onto Doheny from Wilshire yesterday and my only thought was that in white it looked like a blancmange. We don't do subtlety. L'Artisan is all about subtlety, and Traversée du Bosphore is nothing if not subtle. Meant to evoke "a listless day spent exploring Istanbul" I feel from the scent that the exploration would be more in the manner of an Agatha Christie novel, or better one of those sumptuous movies from the 70's made from them: there's leather and tobacco and fruits and nuts and saffron here, but while Uncle Serge would shove our face in it and add some camphor or armpit, L'Artisan keeps it safely in the Wagon Lit with the Hermes luggage, Pratesi sheets and attentive staff. There's musk there, but it is gentlemanly, like the man who opened your bed was slightly overworked. I like this, really I do. I know it reads like I am damning with faint praise; I'm not. It's a literal representation of one of those Agatha Christie movies with Lauren Bacall or Mia Farrow: all the glamour with the unpleasant bits glossed over. You're crossing the Bosphorus, but you're doing it First Class. Sometimes, perfume-wise (to mix metaphors) I like to go below decks... Traversée du Bosphore will be availble at the usual suspects soon, $155 for 100ML. I cribbed my sample from ScentBar

Sweet Tea: L'Artisan Coeur de Vetiver Sacre

By Tom Stopping into Barneys to waste some quality time this past Sunday I was asked if I would like to try a new Vetiver by L'Artisan. This is of course akin to asking me if I would like to try a new flavor of Ketel One or Sprinkles Cupcakes. The answer will be "yes, a large please". There are of course many vetivers classic ones, modern ones and even post-modern ones. L'Artisan's newest take on it dances between candied and cool and warm and smoky. On me it starts with a cool, sparkly fruity-berry accord, quickly becoming green vetiver. Almost immediately bergamot and black tea join in making this somewhat like a more delicate version of Annick Goutal's late and much lamented Eau de Fier. The final heat is provided by black pepper, a warm, discernible vanilla and finally a sensual skin musk. I think I might have found my fall scent... Coeur de Vetiver is $95 for 50ML or $135 for 100ML at Barneys exclusively for the rest of the year, then at the usual suspects. I received my sample at the source.

Nuit de Tubereuse by L’Artisan Parfumeur : Cyborg Love (and a prize draw)

By Marla I move a little slowly when it comes to modern culture. I only just viewed Bjork’s haunting short film, “All is Full of Love” a week ago, and I was testing some of L’Artisan Parfumeur’s new “Nuit de Tubereuse” at the same time. I loved the icy tenderness of the film, and it seems to me that Bjork’s commentaries on modern communication and communion continue and expand Laurie Anderson’s multi-faceted musings on the same subjects. The images of twin cyborgs passionately embracing is both frightening and compelling. So how does this new perfume by Bertrand Duchaufour ally with cyborg love? I hate tuberose absolute. I hate tuberose perfumes. I find them revolting. I love sniffing the actual flower, however, as it has a sort of attraction/repulsion gumbo of scent molecules that is quite intoxicating in a garden, out in the fresh air and sunshine. But in a perfume? Eek. I never want to smell like that. “Nuit de Tubereuse” is a departure from the usual in that it basically abandons lactones and indoles. Its sharp, nose-searing opening is neon and electric rather than tropical, rotting, and indolent. It smells cold, alien, and strange. Yes, it’s floral, tuberose and orange blossom are there, but perversely so, as if a computer geek had composed binary flowers for a decoration in his holo-lab. There’s no distinctive drydown per se, though there are shifts in orientation over the hours. But, like holograms, these various facets remain unnatural, and thoroughly otherworldly. Longevity and sillage are both impressive. There is no doubt in my mind what the two cyborgs in Bjork’s film smell like, and it’s both attractive and frightening to me. If you would like to try it for yourself, please leave a comment, I’ll pick a winner at random and send a sample. The draw is closed. (Full disclosure: I received my “Nuit de Tubereuse” from L’Artisan Parfumeur as a gift.)

Spice/Chest: L'Artisan Al Oudh

By Tom Oudh (or Aoud, or Oud or however it's spelled) is a note that I have learned to really love. Through Kelley I've discovered Montale and through Marina I've discovered the wildly priced Arabian Oud line. This year seems to be the Year of Oud in niche: everyone from Tom Ford to Le Labo has one. Created by Berntrand Duchaufour, Al Oudh could almost be accused of false advertising. Patty at Perfume Posse described it as "sweaty armpit" while Robin at NST calls it a "bold, very enjoyable outing". I get a boatload of cumin. Cumin, cumin and citrus opening, cumin, cumin, cumin and oud with roses middle and cumin, cumin, cumin, cumin, vanilla, civet and cumin drydown. (spam, spam, spam, lov-e-ly spam...) I happen to like cumin in scents, even unto Eau d'Hermes and I do like this one. A lot. Despite the cumin-heavy mix it's only really overwhelming in the first half hour: after that it's silky smooth. Unless of course, you don't like cumin. If you dislike that note then I suggest staying well clear: unlike a some L'Artisan scents, this is quite tenacious. Al Oudh is $155 for 100ML available at the usual suspects. I spritzed at Barneys and asked for and received a sample at ScentBar.

L'Artisan Parfumeur Havana Vanille: Perfume Review

If I were to come up with a two-word description for Havana Vanille à la Perfumes: The Guide, I would have opted for strange vanilla or raw vanilla or bearded vanilla or thinking person's vanilla (OK, that's three words). Which is to say that I think that Havana Vanille is odd, it smells raw/rooty/earthy, is not girly by any stretch of imagination and, like most Duchaufour's creations, is cerebral. I am not sure to which combination of ingredients to attribute the remarkably raw quality of the composition. My guess is that it is immortelle and narcissus which lend Havana Vanille the haunting aroma of something freshly dug out of clean, moist soil...of something "dirty" in a vegetable-mineral, not animalic sense. This raw component is more predominant, on my skin, then the title note of vanilla. The latter is, of course, present at all times, but isn't quite like its usual self. It's not sweet and it's not even abstractly gourmand. The very slightly tarry leather, the smoky woods, the boozy rum note lead to a sort of androgen excess in the vanilla accord. I would not label the scent as "masculine", but neither is it in any way "feminine". Let's call it androgynous. This might easily be one of the most interesting recent releases and certainly the most unusual vanilla fragrance that I have ever encountered. If I had to compare it to another perfume, I'd say that it vaguely reminds me of Duchaufour's raw masterpiece from last year, Baume du Doge...with a lot of smoky, dirty and drunken vanilla added to the mix. Havana Vanille is available wherever L'Artisan is sold, $115.00-$155.00; the fragrance has been renamed and is now called Vanille Absolument. Image credit, Ellen Von Unwerth

Fraîche & Easy

Last summer practically forced me to wear citrus scents. Ever since, my taste has been gradually becoming fresher and fresher. I learned to appreciate clean, fresh perfumes for three reasons: a) the noli me tangere quality, the icy, poker-faced feeling that they lend me; b) the cooling effect in the heat; and c) the easy, relaxing comfort that they provide. A good fresh scent to me is an olfactory equivalent of a good chillout tune. A no-brainer, calming sound/smell in the background. And if that seems like I am damning the genre with faint praise, I am not: being able to make to one's life easier without being obvious about it is a great quality in a perfume. Or indeed in a person. This summer my fresh scent wardrobe (already including L'Eau de L'Hermine, Vanille Galante, Puredistance, Lotus Blossom & Water Lily, Eau de Fleur Magnolia and Cristalle) benefited from the discovery of the following: Cristalle Eau Verte by Chanel. Sweeter, more floral, in no way a chypre and significantly softer and gentler than actual Cristalle, this is basically...a different scent entirely. Please, don't look in it for a variation on Cristalle that will still be recognisable as the classic favorite. Taken on its own merit, however, it is a lovely, harmonious, incredibly easy-to-wear citrus fragrance with a pretty magnolia note in the heart. The citruses in the top are slightly sugary, with a floral accent added by neroli; the heart enhances the floralcy with jasmine, honeysuckle and the aforementioned magnolia; and there is something dry and green in the base that lasts, discreetly, all day, long after the citrus sparkle is gone, and adds some of that hard, brisk Chanel-y edge to the overall very easy-going composition. Elegant, versatile, youthful...as much of a little white dress (a summer must-have) as the original Cristalle. Only, while the latter I imagine as a somewhat haughty shift dress, Eau Verte is, perhaps, more of an egalitarian and more flirty baby-doll. (Bergdorf Goodman, $105.00 for 3.4oz.) Eau Divine by Divine offers the dry, spicy freshness that I love in summer. Anise, ginger and nutmeg add an interesting twist to what could have been a rather ordinary unisex blend. I also love the unexpected presence of violet in the heart. The slightly powdery solidity of the note adds body to the fairly transparent mix and a certain retro feel. It smells "French" and a little old-fashioned to me. It should come in a huge retro splash bottle (oh, wait, it does!) and a tome of Bonjour Tristesse, because the Sagan's France is where Eau Divine takes me. And that is one of my favorite places. (Divine.fr, 50€-145€) Cote d'Amour by L'Artisan Parfumeur inhabits approximately the same territory, but very now. Celine Ellena's characteristically gauzy and modern composition is the smell of skin heated by the sun, salty from the sea, with a saline, weedy undertone that seems to stick to one after a day on the beach. In that respect, I find this quiet, chilled out scent quite sexy. With its spa-like, herbal ambiance, in reminds me a lot of L'Eau de Jatamansi, however, Côte d'Amour has much less of that "I am natural and choke-full of the ingredients that are good for you" feel that I resented in Jatamansi, although there is still some in the blend of immortelle, rosemary and pine...still, when I am in Côte d'Amour, I am not aware of wearing an ORGANIC blend, but of wearing a perfume. A very non-perfumey one, but still. (Luckyscent, $155.00 for 8.4oz) Bigarade Concentree by Editions de Parfums. There are perfumes with an animalic undertone. Jean-Claude Ellena's citrus masterpiece smells...human. I can't describe it in any other way. Few citrus scents easily blend with the wearer's skin. They tend to sit on top, sparkling as if in a myriad of tiny unmeltable crystals. Bigarade Concentree melts into the skin. A friend with a very keen nose suspects that there might be some cumin, and I agree. Nothing humanizes a perfume like that warm, dirty spice. Put too much of it, and -voila!- the scent is animalic. Clearly, only a touch (might have) been added to the bitter orange overdose of Bigarade C. It also might be hay, with its strangely fleshy aroma. In any case, a unique take on citrus that I couldn't get enough of this summer. Men should be forced to wear this, as the perfume smells even more human on them. (Barneys, $85.00-$200.00) Eau des Lagons by Comptoir sud Pacifique is another scent to be shared with a male. It is, perhaps, more unisex that any of the scents described here; read: it is rather masculine. Like Côte d'Amour, it manages to be evocative of the sea without smelling too obviously aquatic. Unlike the quietly languid Côte d'Amour, Eau des Lagons is brisk. I would even call it sharp, but in a good way. It is a wake up scent, a "I need to be alert at work" scent. A friendly sort of slap on a cheek that would prevent one from nodding off in the heat and the boredom. The beginning of the scent is momentarily fruity; immediately, the sweetness disappears, and it becomes all about rind, zest, sap, salt, driftwood and very white musk after that. I see Eau des Lagons as transparent white. Pure, almost sterile white...If you need a politically correct, but not boring office scent, this is the one. (Comptoirsudpacifique.us, $85.00 for 3.3oz) What are your fresh perfume favorites? Do share. If you would like to be in a draw for samples of Eau Divine, Cote d'Amour and Eau des Lagons, please say so in your comment. The winner will be announced on Friday. Image credits, Numero, Miles Aldrgidge.

Pineapple wars: Jean Patou Colony versus the modern world (And a giveaway)

By Donna Pineapple is one of those fragrance notes that seems to elicit strong opinions, Either you love it and can’t get enough, or the very thought of it makes you back away slowly from the offending perfume as if it were radioactive. I am firmly in the former category myself, being a fan of pineapple in virtually all of its forms and uses, with the notable exception of pizza – that’s just wrong. From piňa coladas to Thai food, everything is better with pineapple. Of course, there are also a slew of cheap and artificial pineapple-scented products around. Pineapple suffers a fate similar to raspberry, orange or rose, where the bad synthetic renditions give the whole group a bad name. I will studiously ignore these and concentrate on actual perfume. The undisputed dowager queen of all pineapple scents is Colony by Jean Patou, one of the twelve resurrected and then sadly discontinued Ma Collection scents, and my other favorite of that group in addition to Vacances. It was first released in 1938 during the Golden Age of French perfumery, and upon smelling it is immediately apparent that it is a beautiful relic of days gone by. It is actually a chypre scent, probably the only pineapple chypre ever made as far as I can tell. It is endowed with a heavy, syrupy and languid helping of pineapple, spices, carnation, iris, ylang ylang and a perfectly divine overdose of oakmoss that keeps it sophisticated and tamps down any excessive sweetness. Any astringency comes from all that oakmoss, in fact, as the pineapple is very concentrated and has no trace of the fresh, raw fruit in it. I cannot tell you how much I adore this perfume; it is so very sexy and grown-up, yet it has that hint of tropical romance to it that gives it such a charming character. The reissued version may not be an exact replica of the original, but the Ma Collection fragrances were probably the most accurate renditions of vintage formulas ever made. Skip ahead several generations and its descendant in the House of Patou is Patou Forever, a much lighter fruity-floral composition, but the pineapple is there. It is more realistic pineapple, not too sweet, but it’s sharp and fresh and yet not acidic or thin. It’s a perfect summer scent, greened with vetiver and embellished with other fruit accords. I will need to get some more of this once my Colony runs out; sadly, it’s only a matter of time before it’s gone forever. Most other pineapple themed fragrances available today all seem hew to the light and fresh style, at least in my experience. Ananas Fizz by L’ Artisan Parfumeur is ethereally light, so much so that it is very fleeting on my skin, which is a pity as it is really a very nice fragrance. It is not strictly a pineapple “soliflore”, but that is one of the dominant notes. It is complemented by citrus, coconut, vanilla and light woods. It is eminently suitable for summer as it is about as sheer a scent as I have ever tried, and typical of the lovely and transparent creations Anne Flipo has done for L’Artisan. On the sweeter side, Comptoir Sud Pacifique has Vanille Pineapple, with the fruit accompanied by frangipani, coconut, vanilla, sugar, cinnamon, passion fruit and musk. As with most CSP scents, the top notes fade rather quickly, leaving the vanilla, coconut and sugar to duke it out, and in this case the top note is just pineapple. It’s a fun perfume, make no mistake, but not everyone wants to smell like pineapple upside-down cake all day. (Not that there’s anything wrong with that.) Which brings me to the opposite end of the pineapple spectrum from Colony and another discontinued scent – Bath & Body Works’ Fresh Pineapple. I was doing my usual smash-and-grab stocking up at the semi-annual sale recently and picked up the shower gel, which I had not tried, then I saw a little bottle of cologne on the clearance table for almost nothing. I thought, why not, it’s pineapple and coconut, what could go wrong? As it turned out, the shower gel was pretty decent, but the spray cologne was pretty thin stuff – it started out with an in-your-face gush of freshly cut pineapple, joined quickly by coconut, but the pineapple turned harsh and a bit sour, and there was an unpleasant interval while that fizzled out; definitely a synthetic pineapple accord. It was not too bad after that, but it was mostly coconut by then and I don’t think that is exactly the real thing either. This is one of those photo-realistic modern fragrances that are made to literally smell like the picture on the bottle – that can be fine, and this is probably better in hot and humid weather when something so simple is all you want. To illustrate the evolution (or should I say decline) of pineapple in perfume, I am offering a sample each of Jean Patou Colony and BB&W Fresh Pineapple. Both are discontinued, but for only one of them is that a tragedy, and when you try them side-by-side you will see why. If you want to be in the draw please indicate in the comments. The winner’s name will be selected the week after this post appears. Image credits: Vintage Colony bottle from collector site passionforperfume.com. Pineapple upside-down cake, photo by Tina Cornett at myrecipe.com. (I am totally going to make this – it has macadamia and cardamom in it.)

Perfume Posse Visits (part of) Perfume Smellin' Things

By Tom March and Patty of Perfume Posse came to Los Angeles to visit and host an event at ScentBar this weekend and of course I could no more pass up the chance to meet them than I could give up, well, perfume! They actually came in slightly earlier than the day of the event, and since I love to show people the city who haven't been here before (as March hadn't) I volunteered to drive them around on Friday for shopping and hanging out. I will admit that there was a small amount of trepidation as there always is meeting someone that you have this Internets relationship with, electronically intimate enough that you feel like you have shared lives, but have never spent any time with in person. Would me mesh? Would they find me hopelessly boring? Would there be long periods of uncomfortable silences followed by furtive calls to friends to ask them to call back and pretend they're locked out of their place and being attacked by man-eating clams and need you to come get them? In short, would it be like Match.com? Of course, that didn't happen. After an initial comic mishap involving hotels on one street having changed names we piled into my microscopic Honda and it was old home week. We drove around the hills of Beverly looking at (and joyously dissing) real estate I can't afford, cruised Malibu, shopped Montana Avenue and ate Pinkberry before meeting the always delightful Robin (VioletNoir) for dinner and drinks in Century City. March and Patty are just as delightful in the flesh as the are on the internets; if only Colombina could have been there. Now that would have been perfection! The next day was ScentBar. The charming owners Adam Eastwood and Franco Wright were kind enough to open early to host a bunch of us; there were all the new things to sniff all the usual suspects including Robin and Iris. There were muffins and sugar cookies and Prosecco Bellinis. If I am very good Heaven will look like this, except it will just be me, a spa tub the size of a Fleetwood Brougham and perhaps, Hugh Jackman. If he doesn't take more than one muffin. I tried Mure et Musc Extrait, which is great in that "berries gone bad" way, and since you're getting a refill in the package justifies the price. The Party in Manhattan was wonderful; I don't find it the skank-fest that March and Patty do. They think I'm nuts. I think I'm part house-cat. Those were the yums; I have to say that the new Serge, Nuit de Cellophane, is a meh for me. Uncle Serge has done the definitive Fruity-Floral. Fruity-Floral has now been done in that way that "Gone With the Wind" has been done. The Genre has been officially been closed. No more should be produced and the pallid, anodyne scents that came before should retreat to some dark corner and as Colombina put it "smoke nervously". Would I wear it? Right after I appear at work in a red taffeta ball gown. Should you? Up to you. Parfums DelRae Emotionnelle is the perfect simulacrum of fresh cantaloupe that I have smelled outside of my breakfast table. I however ran from it and was glad that March, who is old and censorious friends with Patty asked her to please wash it off forthwith. The real surprise of the morning was a sample of Andy Tauer's new Une Rose Chyprée, a perfectly balanced rose/chypre where the rose is lifted by clementine and bay and grounded by labdanum, oakmoss and vanilla. I know there were a few rumbles of disappointment over Andy's last couple of releases, but this is going to be a runaway hit for him: the rose opening is immediately, captivatingly gorgeous and the drydown is sniff-your-arm-and-moan good. I'd have a giveaway for my sample but I am simply not that generous.. Andy, I think this should be your first perfume strength one. If you're reading. Tomorrow (Sunday) is March and Patty's last day in the City of the Fallen Angels and we are going to get together once more. I hope to drive them across Mulholland to have lunch at the Village Cafe on Beachwood Canyon under the Hollywood sign. It's been marvelous meeting them; could someone work on that Transporter thingy in "Star Trek" so that we could all get together easily in various places on a whim? Wouldn't that be lovely?

Perfume Review: L'Artisan Dzongkha

Dzongkha, the latest scent by L’Artisan Parfumeur, is a new installment in the travel series that already includes Bois Farine and Timbuktu. Like the latter, Dzongkha was created by Bertrand Duchaufour, author of several other L’Artisan scents, a couple of Comme des Garcons (for example, Sequoia) and Paestum Rose, just to name a few. Dzongkha is said to have been inspired by the temples of Bhutan, called Dzongs. Dzongkha is a quiet, introspective scent, a study in tasteful understatement. On my skin, it is most and foremost an iris fragrance. From the sweetly piquant beginning ornamented with cardamom, to to the earthier, spicier, almost savory heart of vetiver, incense and a subtle leather note, to the delicate, simultaneously sweet and strangely salty drydown of vetiver, some more cardamom, and a gentle, vaguely fruity accord (perhaps the lychee that was supposed to be in the top notes?), the iris is always present. Warm and spicy, cool and ethereal, earthy, bright and floral, the note here is a chameleon. This is a soft, soulful blend that must be given time and perhaps a couple of testings before its quite charm will start working on a wearer. At least that is how it was with me. While at first I thought Dzongkha to be rather pale, indistinct and aloof, after a while its various warmer aspects and subtly spicy nuances became apparent and fascinating, and I realized that what I mistook for aloofness was in fact meditative tranquility. The samples of Dzongkha are now available at First in Fragrance.

Fleur d'Oranger by L'Artisan

Fleur d’Oranger, L’Artisan’s latest and “very" limited edition fragrance, was built around the 2004 harvest of orange blossom from Nabeul in Tunisia. Nabeul is apparently well known for the distillation of perfumes using orange blossom and even hosts an orange blossom festival, every year from the late March to the early April. Exceptional olfactive qualities of 2004 harvest inspired the creator Anne Flipo and marked a rather novel approach in the perfumery, which binds a perfume to the year of a harvest. By definition, L’Artisan’s Fleur d’Oranger can only be a limited edition. Only 2990 bottles will be available in L’Artisan Parfumeur boutiques and selected stores; it comes in the signature L’Artisan bottle, which in this case is beautifully engraved with flowers of orange tree and is set up in a wooden coffret, much like an expensive vintage wine bottle. Fleur d’Oranger is a beautiful, slightly green and dewy scent. It starts very citrusy on my skin; this citrus accord becomes greener and greener, leaving an impression of a leaf being rubbed in one’s hands. A floral note meanwhile gathers momentum and by the middle stage it is very much a floral scent, albeit with delicate citrus undercurrent. Orange blossom note becomes sweeter, creamier and more luscious by the minute, sometimes almost turning tuberose-like on my skin. It reaches the apogee of intensity and sweetness and then gradually begins to settle into a more subtle fragrance, with almost a tea-like note to it that reminded me of another L’Artisan, Thé Pour Un Été. This is my favorite stage; when the drydown comes, Fleur d’Oranger is everything I want in an orange blossom scent; it is light, delicate, almost ethereal and very summery. This is not a complex scent in any respect, and however unique the marvelous qualities of the 2004 orange blossom harvest in Nabeul may be, in my very humble opinion, the price of this fragrance is still rather exorbitant ($250.00). Fleur d’Oranger is essentially a linear scent, a light Eau de Toilette to be applied generously in hot weather or indeed in winter, to dispel the gloom and cold. It is lovely and pleasant, but that is all there is to it. The engravery and the wooden coffret seem a little over the top where this pretty but simple fragrance is concerned. Fleur d’Oranger is available in L’Artisan boutiques and selected stores like Bergdorf Goodman and Barneys. *The photo of Fleur d’Oranger is from osmoz.com