Jo Malone Vanilla & Anise: Perfume Review

Let me start with a question: before the creation of the aqueous pastel wonder that is Vanille Galante, has there existed a transparent vanilla perfume? I went through the list of oh so many vanillas, and couldn't come up with another name, except for the new Jo Malone fragrance. Perhaps it is simply the first of some more (hopefully not a thousand) scents, which surely have been launched by the sheer, watery beauty of the last Hermenessence. "Transparent vanilla" is a genre I apparently enjoy. It is especially in the first stage that Vanilla & Anise seems to have been inspired by Jean-Claude Ellena's take on vanille. Something in the citrusy-spicy-fresh accord in the top notes has almost a melon-like effect, to me. A spicy melon effect, to be exact. The Malone creation is somewhat sharper then the Hermessence, and, despite "Vanilla" in the name, seemingly more unisex, at first anyway. As it develops, the scent acquires more substance. Vanilla, tuberose and frangipani in the heart of the composition gives it a certian creaminess, a hint of flesh under the gauzy veil of top notes. Still, this tropical-sounding mix is not what I'd call voluptuous. The spicy characteristic from the start of the fragrance returns in the base, with cloves, and so does the sharp-dry unisex feel, with vetiver. This is an interesting scent, refreshing yet vaguely gourmand, at times obviously feminine, at other times almost masculine. There is something off-kilter in it, as if the balance of freshness and sweetness, of creaminess and spiciness haven't been gotten quite right, but oddly, this slight, quirky imperfection of the blend is what I enjoy about it. Available wherever Jo Malone products are sold, $55.00-$100.00. Image source, jomalone.com

Serge Lutens Douce Amere

By Tom An older Lutens (out in 2000); Marla on this site as well as March at Perfume Posse wrote earlier about anise scents, not mentioning this one. Seeing that there wasn't a review here I thought I would throw in my two cents. Anise usually not something that I am a big fan of in fragrance: it's sometimes amped up to toothache-inducing sweetness or is just not working on me. Douce Amere is one that is neither. The listed notes (from Luckyscent) are absinthe (Artemisia absinthum) , cinnamon, anise, lily, jasmine, tiare, tagette, marigold, musk, and cedar. What isn't listed and is most likely a combo of three or four of the former is an incredible, buttery milk chocolate smell that nicely balances the anise. The whole concoction is is silky-smooth and manages to be deliciously gourmand without being too literally edible, the chocolate fading and becoming more about the whiteness of the tiare. The whispery cedar and musk in the drydown take this from the bakery to the bedroom; it's still sweet, just more lusty and less Lolita. I do think of it as one of cold weather scents, though. I can imagine it could go sickly-sweet in heat, especially humid heat. Douce Amere is one of the exports, available at every retailer who carries Serge Lutens, $120 for 50ML

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.

Anise and Licorice- Love It or Loathe It, Some Gotta Have It

By Marla Anise and licorice are notes that are either adored or loathed, one’s scent muse or nemesis. I have yet to hear of someone who feels “meh” over either ingredient. I love anise and my mother hates it for the same reason- those little Russian aniseed cookies that babushkas love to press on children that come their way- they are popular throughout Eastern Europe and Italy but my mother feels nauseated whenever she smells them (too many bad memories of raiding grandma’s cookie jar, then feeling ill afterwards). Licorice candies are a real cult fetish these days- if you’ve been to Philly’s Reading Terminal Market, you know what I mean. The line is never less than 40 people at the licorice shop. The Dutch and the Australians seem to have lots of yummy varieties of the sticky, bittersweet black goop, too. I just love it. I have a sub-collection of anise and licorice scents. Its cool, ethereal weirdness just makes me open my wallet every time I smell a new one. Some of them are too strange to wear, but I keep them anyway. Here are a few of my favorites. Perhaps you can add to this list: L’Heure Bleue- the 1912 Guerlain classic- cold and contemplative. It’s so unfashionable with its bitter and powdery notes, so lacking in the fresh and the fruity, that it’s actually avant-garde. And talk about sillage and lasting power- wow! Lolita Lempicka- seems like a sweet girly gourmand with all that vanilla and amarena but then that bitter anise hits and it’s just delightfully quirky. Very popular in Europe, I smell it everywhere in Italy. A freaky gourmand, and a fun bottle, too. This was apparently designed to be an Angel clone, but took off and established its own unique territory. I wear it about 5 times more often than I wear Angel, mostly because of the licorice. Guerlain Anisia Bella- just plain bitter anise and woods. So austere that on a truly hot, humid day in the tropics, nothing can cool one as well. Beautiful smell for a library full of antique books. If the Amish could wear perfume, this would be the one. A Basenotes perfumista uses it to scent her shop. Smells really good on men, particularly the thin, intellectual kind. The new AA Laurier Reglisse is a greener, sweeter take on Anisia Bella, but that bitter anise note is still marked in the drydown, so I pronounce Laurier Reglisse bottleworthy for anise lovers also. Caron Eau de Reglisse- I didn’t like this at first- the ginger just screams like a banshee. But it settles down beautifully and works wonders in hot climates. After a year of sniffing the sample I finally bought one of the huge, fragile bottles. It’s a bargain on the Internet, and there really isn’t anything else like it out there. Etro Anice is a sweeter, lighter Anisia Bella so I didn’t feel the need to buy it, but it’s lovely nevertheless. There are many other licorice and anise scents lurking out there. Let me know your favorites!