Strange Femmes

By Marla A few weeks ago I followed the White Rabbit to ebay, in search of a few good vintage perfumes. Most of my recently-culled collection comprises mainly discontinued and reformulated lovelies, so I thought I’d go back a few decades further; I bought a bottle of Rochas Femme that had been carefully kept in a dark corner for an unknown period of time, I guessed maybe the 1970s. It’s in the bottle that Rochas used for Byzance, but it’s definitely Femme Parfum de Toilette and is labeled as such. I’ve included a dim and quickie photo in case anyone else has seen this unusual bottle for Femme. But on to the juice. WOW! Edmond Roudnitska did not let the war destroy his creativity, did he? 1943 was dark times for many people, but a splendid year for perfumery. Apparently he composed this while pondering a rubbish dump and a paint factory. Go figure. The notes, according to Bois de Jasmin, are bergamot, peach, prune, rose, immortelle, jasmine, ylang-ylang, ambergris, musk, oakmoss, and sandalwood. It’s very warm and intensely animalic. Aldehydic, yet mostly natural in composition. A hint of North African spice market, which makes it more than a little Lutensian. But this couldn’t be made even by a niche brand today. It’s just too far out there, much too outlaw. I wanted to wear it with a red satin vintage dress, but Denyse Beaulieu rightly pointed out that such a get-up would be only a costume. I should be more creative. What should I wear with this luscious, thoroughly out-of-its time concoction? And can anyone assign a date to this bottle? (If you do, I’ll send you a sample vial!)

Wrapped in the Ambery Embrace of Rochas Absolu

By Donna I discovered Absolu well after it first appeared – it was one of those perfumes that I had never seen in a regular store when it was introduced in 2002, and I only spotted it when I started trolling for bargains at online discount sites several years later. I was intrigued by the description but I was afraid to buy it untested. One day I ran across a mini of it, and I took the plunge. The descriptions of this fragrance made a point of mentioning what a man-trap it was, so I was eager to find out what the fuss was all about, especially since it was deeply discounted; what was wrong with it, I wondered? As it turns out, Absolu lived up to the copywriter’s excesses and I was smitten. A rich, ambery floral-Oriental scent, it begins with a delicious wallop of mandarin that reminded me very much of the 1992 Jean Patou masterpiece Sublime, with a warmth and softness reminiscent of Chopard’s Casmir, but not as heavily gourmand as the latter. Fig leaf chimes in and then it unfolds in waves of orange blossom, diving into the lovely heart of rose and spice notes, including a twist of black pepper. The base is rich with benzoin, ciste labdanum, and Tolu balsam, almost liqueur-like in its intensity, and if this style of scent is not to your liking it will quickly become too sweet. For some reason it’s not too sweet for me, perhaps because it does remind me so much of my beloved Sublime, which I once wore as my signature scent back in its heyday, in all weather – I cringe at the thought of what those around me were subjected to with my freely applied spritzes– no one ever said anything but I must have had quite a cloud around me! It is my understanding that Sublime is no longer its former glorious self, a victim of reformulation and Patou’s absorption by Procter & Gamble – which regrettably now owns the house of Rochas too. In the absence of any original formula Patou to be had, the Rochas will do just fine. I have to admit that there is something to be said for the spellbinding excess, the utter abandon of something that is aimed squarely at the clichéd but timeless idea of seduction by scent. No convoluted explanations, no complicated ideas about art and abstraction and interpretation and all of those things that modern perfume houses (and their publicists) seem to go on about ad infinitum. There are no obscure mystery notes that require a degree in comparative Norse mythology or string theory. Nope – this is all about sex, and that’s just fine. It’s not crude or vulgar in any way; in fact it is a very well made perfume composed of fine materials. It took the perfumer (the very prolific Jacques Cavallier, who also did Alchimie in 1998) a long time to come up with the complex formula and make it work. It just has a plan, that’s all, plain and simple. The end result is all black lace and sidelong glances and lights turned down low and all those other delicious things that fuel a spark between two people. It’s the fireside chess scene from The Thomas Crown Affair in a bottle – and I mean the original 1968 film, not the entirely unnecessary remake. (Did I mention that it really takes a mature woman to wear this stuff?) Case in point – I just got a nearly full bottle in a swap from a friend who loves it but she says she can’t leave the house in it; it’s just too sexy for daytime wear. That never stops me, so I was happy to have it. I like to wear perfume like this when I am doing something mundane like grocery shopping or thrift store cruising – you never know whom you are going to run in to, right? In its infinite wisdom, Procter & Gamble Prestige/Rochas has discontinued Absolu - perhaps it was too close to its sister brand’s Sublime for comfort? Or did it just fail to catch on? I even sent them a letter asking about it and my other favorite Rochas heavy hitter, Alchimie. Both are officially gone for good, and Alchimie’s asking price on the discount and auction sites has shot up recently, since it must be getting scarce. Get this one while it’s still a bargain. I recommend starting with a sample or mini if you are unsure of your relationship with this style of perfume. It’s not everyone’s cup of tea, but for those who appreciate the ambery style, it’s hard to beat. Image credit: Screen shot of actress Faye Dunaway in the 1968 film The Thomas Crown Affair via plaindeliriousbird.tumblr.com, original Web source unknown.

Tocade by Rochas: A cologne in search of a perfume

By Donna I am a big fan of Rochas and its opulent perfumes; the name of one of them, Byzantine, seems to describe the house’s ornate style perfectly. I greatly admire Byzance, I currently own Absolu and Alchimie, and I am trying to decide if I want to spring for the modern formulations of Madame Rochas and/or Femme, since I know what the vintage versions were like. I mourn the original Lumière, and I have no idea why it “needed” to be reformulated. But there is one I had never tried, since I assumed it was inferior due to its eternal presence in the discount bins. Surprisingly I found on a recent visit that it is carried at my favorite upscale perfume shop, so after all this time I finally got around to trying Tocade. One could easily be put off by the odd bottle; it looks like it was designed by a James Bond villain in partnership with a fast-food franchise, with its incongruous proportions (the similar packaging of its sister scent Tocadilly nearly requires eye-bleach to get past the psychedelic outward appearance) and tippy zaniness. Never mind about that, just close your eyes and sniff, for this is a really nice scent, a soft vanillic rose and iris that is hazy and romantic. One interesting feature is that the further away from the skin my nose gets, the more vanilla I smell, while if I press close I get rose and green notes; yet all I have to do is move a few inches away and there is the vanilla, refined and very pretty and not gourmand at all. Tocade is not a heavy hitter like most scents in the Rochas repertoire, but it stands up well against them, at least the modern ones. (Not sure what could hope to compete with vintage Femme!) What puzzles me about this 1994 fragrance created by the great Maurice Roucel, now discontinued, is why it’s only available in an Eau de Toilette; it is crying out for a more concentrated formula, at least an Eau de Parfum if not a Parfum. The floral part of it is just shy of being too thin, especially since the “rose” note is actually geranium, and I think it would be luscious and gloriously rounded if it had the chance. As it is, my nose keeps “reaching” for more and finding it just out of range. I have looked high and low, on every discount site and auction listing I could find, and it is only available in the EDT, in the 1.7 oz size or the huge 3.4 oz. bottle, except for one .25 oz bottle of Parfum I located which I suspect was a limited edition or else discontinued long before the EDT was. (It was expensive, too!) It’s very good the way it is, and highly wearable for any situation, but I am at a loss to figure out why Rochas, of all houses, did not make a more intense fragrance when that is where their strength lies. I wonder if it would have succeeded in the marketplace with the added punch of an EDP to offer instead of being relegated mostly to the discounters. It’s everywhere, and can easily be had for under $25 and frequently much less, even for the big bottle. This is really a “what might have been” scent for me. I like it very much and I might even buy it, considering the price, but it could have been true love if it had a much-deserved upgrade. Image credit: Tocade bottle and box from perfumela.com.

Perfume Review. Roses and Vanilla: Rochas Tocade and Bond No. 9 Broadway Nite

Today’s review is for two scents blending rose and vanilla, a combination I adore. Obviously, rose and vanilla are not the only notes in either of these fragrances; Tocade has a very noticeable magnolia note and Broadway Nite is quite heavy on violet and what I perceive to be geranium. Still, to my nose and on my skin, rose and vanilla are the core ingredients of Tocade and Broadway Nite. However, despite the shared notes and despite the fact that both were created by Maurice Roucel (the nose behind Musc Ravageur, 24 Faubourg and many others), Tocade and Broadway Nite could not be more different. It is as if, having been given the task of creating a rose scent for Bond No.9, Monsieur Roucel went back to Tocade and made it more heady and generally glammed it up, creating a gorgeous, capricious, pampered diva out of a sweet, lovely, pretty house-maker. Tocade is a soft comfort scent, unobtrusive enough to be worn in any environment, lovely before bedtime. It starts with a blend of rose, magnolia and vanilla on my skin, the magnolia note wears off quite soon and, till the drydown comes, Tocade is mostly rose and vanilla on me. In the drydown, rose becomes much less evident and amber joins the mix, adding its sweet warmth to the scent and bringing it up a notch on the comfort scale. This is not a glamorous fragrance, it stays very close to the skin and, unless you really over-spray, is likely to go more or less unnoticed by others. It is however guaranteed to bring a smile of contentment on your face whenever you catch its floral-gourmand aroma. Broadway Nite is a different story altogether. It is a bombshell, glamorous, heady, with a luxurious trail of sillage. It would not tolerate being worn with your coziest sweater, wrapped up in a favorite old blanket, reading a book. Broadway Nite demands to be taken out on the town; don’t dare to put it on unless you are dressed très chic, with your heels very high. I heard Broadway Nite being compared to Lipstick Rose by Frederic Malle and I can see the similarity in that both mix rose and violet, however where Lipstick Rose is powdery, soft, and warm, Broadway Nite is aldehydic and dazzling, and, despite the fact that it has vanilla and amber in the drydown, it strikes me as a “cold” scent. To compare it to Tocade, the rose note is much more loud and prominent in Broadway Nite and stays very noticeable in the drydown. There is a certain green-ish quality to this scent that is probably due to the mentioned violet note, honeysuckle and iris. I could have sworn there was geranium in the blend as well, Broadway Nite has that sharpness I associate with this note, but, for what it’s worth, it is not on the official list of ingredients. Broadway Nite is a heady, demanding scent and does not always work on my skin; once in a while it throws a tantrum and becomes very harsh and cloying; it is not full bottle worthy for me. Tocade, on the other hand, gets worn often and is always even-tempered, soft and comforting; I will be definitely buying a bottle. Broadway Nite can be found in Bond No. 9 boutiques or online, for example at Beautycafe.com, and costs $110.00- $178.00. Tocade retails for as little as $21.69, at Scentiments.com *The photo of Maurice Roucel is from Editions de Parfums, and is here mainly because, on this particular picture, the perfumer looks remarkably like my father, only with a more luxurious moustache :-)

Perfume Review: Madame Rochas

This post was inspired by the photo of Madame Rochas, found on the wonderful site Touten Parfum (that photo is used here with the kind permission of Claudine Auguet, the owner of Touten Parfum). When I was a child, my mother used to wear Madame Rochas, and I can still remember the box with its gold lace ornament and the beautiful slimline bottle with the golden top, standing among her other perfumes and fascinating cosmetic items that I was not allowed to touch. Even the mention of this perfume makes me so very nostalgic; Madame Rochas was my first introduction to the world of perfumes and to the general idea of femininity and elegance. Madame Rochas is a refined perfume, a polished, sophisticated beauty, an elegant and timeless floral aldehyde composed by Guy Robert in 1960. It starts true to its aldehydic nature, rather harsh and aloof, with notes of bergamot and neroli; this is a stage which I endure rather than enjoy. However in a little while the aldehydes subside, and the flowers (rose, jasmine, tuberose) enter the scene. Strangely enough, I, the white-floral hater, really enjoy the languourous tuberose note in the middle stage of Madame Rochas. The more the fragrance developes on my skin, the more I like it; amber in the early drydown brings a certain elegant powderiness to the composition, and when the woods step forth, Madame Rochas turns into a wonderful skin scent, a delicious and lingering fragrance of cedar, sandalwood and musk. The perfume was inspired by two great classics, Chanel Nº5 and Arpege, and indeed it is reminiscent of both, however, to my nose, Madame Rochas is less aldehydic, more powdery and creamier, with a more pronounced woody-musky element in the drydown. My mother does not wear Madame Rochas anymore, having moved on to softer, sweeter scents, semi-orientals and woody-orientals, and the grand classic aldehydes like Madame Rochas are not really my taste and don’t fit into my life all that well. Having said that, there always will be a place in my heart reserved for this fragrance (and a place in my perfume cabinet reserved for at least a miniature bottle of the scent). Whenever I smell it, I am an awe-struck little girl again, enthralled by the golden lace on the box and the graceful bottle and the scent that seemed to me to be the epitome of “French”, so very chic and glamorous. I still consider it to be one of the most elegant fragrances. As Luca Turin notes in his Le Guide, Madame Rochas would be ideal with “un cabriolet DS Chapron couleur crème anglaise”. *The photo of Madame Rochas is from http://www.toutenparfum.com. *The photo of Citroën DS Chapron Dandy is from http://npeugnet.free.fr/article.php3?id_article=56