Rerun: Tubereuse Criminelle

By Tom I try to pretend to myself that there is no practical reason for a man not to be able to wear what has been considered usually a woman's scent. I usually just figure that one applies with a much lighter hand, say one touch of the perfume on the sternum rather than under each ear and on the wrist. I think that men can get away with this with practically any note but one: tuberose. Unlike Joe Gillis in "Sunset Blvd" I am not at all averse to tuberose, as a matter of fact it's the main note in one of my favorite women's scents Fracas. Fracas is not the scent for the young, the inexperienced, or the timid. It's the scent that an old-time movie star would wear- you can imagine that the scent that wafted off Joan Crawford or Barbara Stanwyck as they slung their mink onto the chaise while on their way to seduce, or shoot, or both their co-star. Fracas is the lady in the parlour who's a whore in the bedroom. Fracas is dangerous. Tubereuse Criminelle is the post-modern Fracas. It defies almost every convention of conventional perfumery that you can imagine. It has an opening that almost defies you to loathe it; a strange, almost sickly mentholated, smokey, leathery accord that also has whiffs of something very much like gasoline. (While writing this and re-reading it I realise that the only way I could make this read less appetizing or pleasant is if I wrote that it smelled of road kill and fruit loops). It's not as strong as I had been lead to believe by other reviews, but it's distinct, different and disconcerting, as if serving fair warning that this is not you mother's tuberose. It's also not entirely unpleasant, and fairly fleeting, as the tuberose starts to take over almost immediately. The tuberose becomes more and more distinct as the scent becomes more and more warm, with the cool menthol fading to the background. There's a rubbery accord stays muted but discernible, mainly reminding me of the actual feel of the flower: the slightly rubbery feel of the bloom, and the musk adds to the skin-like feeling of the scent. I also smell hyacinth, jasmine and vanilla, but they are distant seconds to the wonderfully seductive tuberose- and there's the leather. This is tuberose in bondage. If Fracas would be the scent that Joan Crawford would dab on before plugging Sydney Greenstreet, Tubereuse Criminelle would be what Uma Thurman would dab before opening a heaping helping can of whoop-ass on David Carradine. Needless to say, I would never wear this one out of the house. This is for you ladies only. Originally this was a bell-jar only fragrance, but it's making a special guest appearance at the usual suspects, $140 for 50ML. My decant was purchased from the Perfumed Court Originally published in 2006.

Vamp a NY by Honore des Pres & a Prize Draw

In their description of Vamp à NY, Honoré des Prés call the scent, "futuristic". If so, it is back to the future for me. This tuberose rendition by Olivia Giacobetti smells like plombir, an ice cream from my Soviet childhood. Borrowed originally from the French Glace Plombières, the recipe of plombir calls for cream with high fat content, because as we know, all the best things in life are fattening. And the plombir I remember was certainly one of the best things in life. There are two kinds of plombir, "classic", with 12-13% of fat, and "fatty", with 15-20%. Vamp à NY falls into the "classic" category, and that is plenty. As far as tuberoses are concerned, that buttery feel is my favorite part. This is what I look for first of all, when I encounter a tuberose perfume, and if the creamy smoothness is lacking, I go no further. If it is there, I sniff for bonus qualities, which make a tuberose interesting: rubberiness, mentholated feel, earthiness. In other words, I want plombir with a twist. With its strangely raw, slightly verdant, subtly earthy feel, Vamp à NY is such a plombir. It has rum, and its molasses enhance both the sweet-creamy and the raw-chilly characteristics of the composition. For a lover of balms in perfume, the base of Vamp à NY is a delight, since it has several kinds, each displaying a vanillic aspect: an almost chocolatty vanilla for benzoin, a smoky one for Peru balsam and a vaguely floral one for Tolu. The balsamic drydown, again, ties in with both the dry-green-raw and the sweet-fatty-gourmand aspects of the blend, rounding up the composition in a very satisfying manner. Coming back to the earthy and raw feel of Vamp à NY...I find that the quality runs through all three scents in the We Love NY collection. I Love Les Carottes is staggeringly earthy, almost on the level of some CB I Hate Perfume creations, like Memory of Kindness (almost!). Love Coco has a very appealing raw quality too, which sets it apart from typical, overly sweet, obviously edible coconut fragrances. I can't mention the star ingredients, tuberose, carrot, coconut, and not ask the question, why? Why these particular notes for the NY themed collection? Christian David, the artistic director, of Honoré des Prés told me that for them the tuberose is "definitely a scent of NY City, you can smell it in a lot of lobbies of beautiful hotels there". For Les Carottes, Olivia Giacobetti found the inspiration "at the Organic Market in Harlem". As far as the coconut is concerned, "we love the new trends to drink Coconut water in the States, so Pure and Healthy" - said Christian. "We think that it's the perfect Chic detox Scent to remember the good time of hollidays in NYC ..." In the end, any note can be "New York". After all, as Stefon from SNL would say, New York has Everything. Personally, if I had to come up with an idea for a perfume with NY in the title, the title note of such perfume would have been coffee...If only somebody out there could bottle the smell of Starbucks for me...with coffee as the main ingredient, with a touch of pumpkin spice and cream...with a little bit of wood and leather... That brings me to the packaging of We Love NY collection. It is genius. Even if I did not like a single one of the three fragrance, I would have gotten one anyway, just for that coffee cup of a "box". As it happens, I love Vamp a NY. Created by a French perfumer and smelling of Soviet ice cream... How cosmopolitan and random. How, in fact, very New York. Courtesy of Honore des Pres, 30 commenters will be able try a scent from the NY collection. To participate, tell me what YOUR New-York-themed perfume would smell like and leave your email in the body of the comment for me to contact you for the mailing address. 10 commenters will be randomly chosen to receive a sample of Vamp à NY, Love Les Carottes and Love Coco. 20 more commenters will then be randomly chosen to receive a sample of Vamp à NY. Vamp à NY is available at Henri Bendel and Beauty Habit, $98.00 for 50 ml. Images © Perfume-Smellin' Things.

Umami in Perfume. Cepes & Tuberose by Aftelier

By Marina This week I want to talk about mushrooms, in their a) edible, b) elegant and c) earthy incarnations in perfume. Why mushrooms, you might ask? Because it is boring to live on the "same old, same old diet" of familiar notes. The food industry figured out a while ago that a certain something apart from sweet, sour, bitter and salty is needed to create tasty dishes, and perfumery should branch out too. An ingredient that sounds odd on paper, will smell sublime on skin. There must have been a time when an average consumer would have balked at the idea of putting on an oil that came from a tree infected by a fungus, but nowadays Bath & Body Works add oud to their bestselling scents. The "certain something" food industry embraced is, of course, umami, the meaty, savory, "tongue-coating" 5th taste, found in seafood, meat (especially cured), tomatoes, soybeans, carrots, Chinese cabbage, sweet potatoes, truffles, soy sauce, green tea, Parmesan cheese and, of course, mushrooms. To be fair, perfumers have been offering us umami for a while also to a certain degree, be it unintentionally or on purpose. Think about Hilde Soliani Stecca or CB I Hate Perfume Memory of Kindness  (tomatoes); Maitre Parfumeur et Gantier Eau des Iles (smoky, cured meat); Honore des Pres I Love Les Carrotes (self-explanatory); Alan Cumming Cumming, Tom Ford Black Orchid and Editions de Parfums Une Rose (truffles). Some gardenia scents, most prominently JAR Jardenia, can smell of (Parmesan) cheese and mushrooms, and myrrh has a mushroom-like undertone as well (Serge Lutens La Myrrhe, Annick Goutal Myrrhe Ardente). Apart from Mandy Aftel's Cepes & Tuberose, there are several other fragrances which actually declare mushrooms as one of the notes, namely Ermite from The Perfumer Movie Coffret, CB I Hate Perfume Wild Hunt, Kiehl's Forest Rain, Dawn Spencer Hurwitz Cuir et Champignon and Providence Perfume Co. Indolice. As I mentioned above, gardenias have a certain raw, soil-like quality. Until I smelled Aftel's version, I had never noticed that aspect in tuberose. Mandy Aftel told me that she herself hadn't realized that "there was a rich earthy communality between the two aromas" until she smelled cepes and tuberose together. She of course, knew about this facet of the smell of cepes, but was "quite surprised to find a place in the tuberose absolute that linked to this facet of the aroma." Smelled on its own, tuberose absolute is as I know it, buttery, slightly mentholated and slightly rubbery. Smelled on its own, cepes absolute smells of soy sauce and red wine, a mouthwatering, "tongue-coating", savory aroma. Smelled right after cepes, tuberose suddenly turns to me with a facet it hasn't shown before ... there is something in fact meaty there ... meaty and dry and coated in earth...a certain piquant pungency that it took a mushroom to bring to light...or darkness, as it were. The composition of Cepes & Tuberose is uncluttered. The two main ingredients are so rich, complex and charismatic, that any other notes have to be "quite simple. The cepes and the tuberose intertwined was all the star material that the perfume could aesthetically accommodate." (M.Aftel) A little bit of citrus in the top notes brightens the fleshy dark brown of the blend; woods seem to both enhance the creaminess of tuberose and to add to the dry spiciness of porcini. This is undoubtedly one of the most unique tuberose perfumes - and much more than a tuberose perfume. It seems wrong to categorize it as a floral. But neither is it anything else really. It requires a new olfactory category of its own ... Umami. Available at Aftelier.com, $45.00-$300.00, depending on the size, $6 for a sample. While you are there, do order a little bit of Cepes absolute too ($35.00 for 1/6oz).

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.

“When Every Leaf is a Flower”: Serge Lutens Cèdre

By Marina “Autumn is a second spring when every leaf is a flower.” Albert Camus It seems, I blinked, and the autumn was over. And it was such a beautiful autumn around here, an ideal, joyful, opulent, picturesque autumn, a visual feast of auburns, reds, ochres, terracottas and golds. No melancholy, almost no rain…autumn in Utopia. And I asked myself, what scent could have represented it the best? The answer came immediately and unexpectedly: Cèdre. But why the scent so heavy on tuberose, this ultimate flower of eternal tropical summer, would make me think of fall? ...Then I remembered Camus’ quote. Imagine if, as the chlorophyll disappeared from the leaves and the green faded away, so did the fresh, verdant smell, and the leaves started to smell as sumptuously as they looked… wouldn’t that smell be exactly like this rich blend of creamy tuberose, balsamic wood and warm spices? In fact, I believe that it is thanks to the spices in Cèdre, to fiery cloves and honeyed cinnamon, that the fragrance has such an autumnal feel. Their smoldering aroma hints on bonfires, on that smoky perfume that seems always present in the air in the fall, the perfume that always makes one a little wistful, a little restless, as if aching to migrate to the warmer lands with the birds for the winter... The sweetness of the spices alludes to the fruits of harvest and simultaneously to the festivities that will come when the ideal autumn transforms into the perfect winter. Available at Luckyscent etc., $140.00 for 50ml. Image credit, Ben Hassett for Vogue China January 2009.

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.)

Fracas

By Beth I don’t know what I could say , feel or write about the Robert Piguets legendary Fraca’s that hasn’t already been experienced before. Ah…I’ve thought of something. When I wear it, all that I want to be is completely naked , eating breakfast and chocolate in bed or perhaps topless in Provence , sipping a lemon presse and getting tanned in all of the right places. When it comes to Fracas I’m pretty sure these aren’t original thoughts and I know that none of them will come as any sort of surprise to those who know me well, especially the lusty man that I was smart enough to marry. I cherish food, perfume and passion equally with a fervor that some reserve solely for diamonds and pearls. Not this girl….gift me with truffles or tuberose on any given day and I will be properly enslaved ! Fraca’s IS the undisputed grande dame of the sexy white florals , completely sensual, captivatingly sexual and literally dripping with the sweet fleshy smell of the morning after a marvelous night with the naughtiest man / men ? Fracas is also the carnal and sardonic smell of the deep south, a little bit bordello richly spiced with a lot of exquisitely witchy savory voodoo. The intention of Fracas is obvious and that intention is trouble with a very swirly capital T. You cannot ignore her haunting call although you might hate yourself in the morning for heeding it (but only temporarily, I promise!) When I was a child, my brother went to Tulane in New Orleans for medical school. I have never forgotten the flowers, jasmine vines and dripping wet gardenias in the courtyard outside of Brennans Restaurant, where their pungent aroma mixed with the chicory and cinnamon coffee was about as heady a scent as a precocious child like me could have asked for. I remember eating Banana’s Foster dripping with hot caramel and the flowering Jasmine climbing the wrought iron fences. I remember the candlelight and my mother’s flirtatious laughter. The sticky Tuberose that grew everywhere was as stunning as a full moon and totally narcotic and then there were the women, gorgeous hot house buds with slickly coral lips , caramel skin and curvaceous bodies that were a promise of something that took me years to understand. Southern women just astonish me with their ability to entice and enchant. I’ve never met a man who didn’t just love them even if they love them in secret , but I’ve met lots of women who absolutely hated them although I’ve never understood why. Not me…..I’ve always wanted to be one because they literally smell of orange blossoms and chocolate. Their powers of seduction are legendary and who wouldn’t want some of that? I’m pretty sure that most of them own a bottle or ten of Fracas! This is the sexiest fragrance that I wear and it makes me happy, happy, happy on a sunny day with my hair brushed out and a wispy pair of sandals. Nothing can perk me up faster on a terrible, moody day than a spritz or two , a black turtleneck and a velvety nude lipstick. When I spray it on I get an initial rush of orange blossom but that doesn’t linger at all although I wish that it did, orange blossom is a wonderful childhood memory for me. With me and Fracas it’s all about the Tuberose and Jasmine which stay with me until the very end of the day when it dries down to a soft layer of moss…to my vivid imagination that would be Spanish Moss dripping from gnarled old trees that my husband would spread a blanket under. At this point I can hear all of you thinking...”There she goes again........” OsMoz describes Fracas as an “Intense, Glamorous, Haute Couture Tuberose”. My husband describes Fracas as “Bombshell in a Bottle” and always makes sure that I am never without it. He’s a smart man! Fracas can be found online in many different places but I really enjoy buying it at a store in La Jolla, California that I’ve discovered called Alexander, Perfume and Cosmetics. They sweetly let me me sniff and spray to my hearts content and they specialize in hard to find fragrances! They can be found online at beautyandscents.com

Dark Tuberoses: Heroine, Narcotic and Trapeze by Strange Invisible Perfumes

Last night in the fields I lay down in the darkness to think about death, but instead I fell asleep, as if in a vast and sloping room filled with those white flowers that open all summer, sticky and untidy, in the warm fields. When I woke the morning light was just slipping in front of the stars, and I was covered with blossoms. I don’t know how it happened— I don’t know if my body went diving down under the sugary vines in some sleep-sharpened affinity with the depths, or whether that green energy rose like a wave and curled over me, claiming me in its husky arms. I pushed them away, but I didn’t rise. Never in my life had I felt so plush, or so slippery, or so resplendently empty. Never in my life had I felt myself so near that porous line where my own body was done with and the roots and the stems and the flowers begin. White Flowers, Mary Oliver I reached the stage in my relationship with perfumes which Angela of NowSmellThis once called that of a connoisseur and which I rather less positively call jaded. My nose believes that it has smelled it all and my brain is in the state of ennui. For a perfume to register on my radar, it has to be Great. To excite my jaded senses it has to be Exceptional. The words of the Red Queen come to mind, "If you want to get somewhere else, you must run at least twice as fast as that!" In regards to perfume, "twice as fast" means either being absolutely sublime in its "realism" (Malle Une Rose) or absolutely unlike anything else I have ever encountered (Aftelier Tango). There are some sublimely "realistic" tuberoses... I am using quotation marks, because there is always a necessary degree of stylization in perfume, a degree of creative interpretation of the material, which is what makes it a perfume and not an aromatherapy oil... Malle Carnal Flower and Caron's and L'Artisan's Tubereuses are among them. Lutens' Tubereuse Criminelle inhabits the twilight zone between the territory of "realism" and that of boldly taken poetic license. I will talk about the sublimely "real" at some later point. Today I am focusing on the strange. Strange Invisible Perfumes' take on tuberose, to be precise. And a word to other jaded, if you somehow until now overlooked this brand (I know, unlikely!), do try their creations. They do imaginative things that step close to but never overstep the mark of unwearable. Their descriptions, in which vetivers sleepwalk through bright and textured corridors of lemon verbena, do overstep the mark of ridiculous, but I digress. Three of the perfumes in their collection put emphasis on tuberose. Heroine blends the note with sweetly balsamic opoponax and slightly charred cedarwood. The creaminess of tuberose is enhanced by the presence of frangipane, and you would think that two such heady flowers would dominate the composition, but they let the resinous accord to be always in the forefront. That accord makes tuberose smell smoky and husky and, to me, just irresistible. I find the base, which smells of frying shelled sunflower seeds, strangely comforting. Narcotic uses orange blossom instead of frangipane to enhance tuberose and adds freshness to the blend by making vetiver sleepwalk through the aforementioned corridor of lemon verbena. In other words, the blend starts fresh and a little earthy, the citrusy accord finds its logical continuation in orange blossom, which in turn draws in sweeter and heavier tuberose enriched in the base by vanilla and sandalwood. Simple, right? Not really. You'd think that breezy citruses would turn the usually not at all innocent tuberose into a blushing bride, but here orange blossom has such a pronounced indolic undertone that it makes tuberose smell frankly indecent. Add to that the earthiness of vetiver and the booziness of vanilla, and you have got yourself a perfume that is X Rated. In Trapeze, the killer queen tuberose walks a tight rope flung between the red spiciness of carnation and the icy freshness of spearmint, and the rope is weaved out of vetiver roots...And no more reading of the SIP website for me, as their style is apparently infectious. Anyhow, whereas I have smelled tuberose paired with a mentholated accord before, the addition of carnation is fairly unexpected. I love the piquancy and the slight powderiness that the note brings to the mix and even a certain retro quality. It would be a huge stretch to say that Trapeze smells classic...but not as long of a stretch as from here to the galaxy far, far away, in which dwell other SIP creations. The galaxy to which the jaded should take regular tours just to be reminded that there are scents out that can still surprise and excite us. Narcotic and Trapeze are available at strangeinvisibleperfumes.com (which has been made a little more use-friendly since the last time I attempted to look), $185.00 for 1/4oz. I was unable to find Heroine, perhaps it was discontinued. Many thanks to Alyssa for the poem and for also seeing the darkness of white flowers. The image is by Ellen Von Unwerth.

Perfume Review: Montale Aoud Red Flowers

If Lipstick Rose had a fling with an aoud scent, the result of the fling would have been a scent with its papa's exotic coloring and its mama's very French, very feminine and very chic disposition. This Beauty-and-the-Beast offspring would have been named Aoud Red Flowers. Montale have already (successfully) attempted to marry Europe and Orient in Aoud Flowers, which blended aoud with tuberose. Aoud Red Flowers mixes aoud with marigolds (I am assuming, red marigolds and, inevitably, roses, also red). For the life of me I cannot remember the smell of marigolds, I can only say that in this particular fragrance the floral accord seems to be bright, not particularly sweet, with just enough powderiness to evoke lipsticks and foundations and all things classically feminine, retro and refined. I cannot smell the declared saffron at all, but it might be this golden spice that contributes to the dazzling brightness of the floral accord and enhances the broody exoticism of the aoud. This is a non-aggressive aoud for those who are still a little scared of aouds and a moderately powdery floral for those who want some but not too much powder. Or a great new scent for those who like their exotic scents to have a classic feel and for their classics to have an exotic twist. Available at Luckyscent and Aedes, $150.00-$210.00 The image is by Annie Leibovitz.

Perfume Review: Guerlain Mahora

I think I would be happy in that place I happen not to be, and this question of moving house is the subject of a perpetual dialog I have with my soul. Charles Baudelaire There are days when I want to not be where I am. And when I am unsure if there really exists an alternative place to be. When I want to escape somewhere where no one can find me. A non-existent island paradise under scorching sun, with no phones, no internet, no memories and no ties. An island unknown to any map, the one that planes and ships won't reach...maybe somewhere right in the middle of the Bermuda triangle. There are days when I realize that there is no escape other than by means of olfactory daydreaming. And this is where the languid otherworldliness of Mahora comes in. My island where no one can get me would smell like that, of sweet, creamy white flowers larger than life: of ylang, tuberose and jasmine. It would smell of ripe oranges and peaches, of sinfully thick vanilla... Mahora's unpopularity and it's "heavy, heady, overwhelming" reputation puzzle me. I find it immensely beautiful, perhaps intense but also soft and soothing. Comforting in a way that tuberose can be sometimes, warmly, envelopingly maternal....a quality you wouldn't expect from such a femme fatale flower. The honeyed citrusy beginning is particularly tender, a mouthwatering tropical skin scent. After a while the fragrance does explode on my skin like a firework of thousand white petals...but the floral abundance is rendered so harmoniously here, it does not numb the senses, instead, it soothes and at the same time excites them. The drydown has the coconutty sweetness of tanned skin polished by the sea and passionately kissed by the sun...When I wear Mahora, I am Girl Friday to no Robinson, on an island that no one will ever find, hard as they try. Mahora is available at PerfumeMart, $29.80-$54.75. The photo is by Ellen Von Unwerth.

Perfume Review: Estee Lauder Private Collection Tuberose Gardenia

In his speech at the World Perfumery Congress 2007, Daniel Annese, Senior vice president and general manager of Estée Lauder International, talked about “the notion of heritage, which acts as a symbol of simplicity and authenticity to today’s consumers. In other words: look to the past to define the future. While the idea of “retro” means brining back chic packaging, it also means reinterpreting classic fragrance notes”. (Perfumer & Flavorist, August 2007, WPC insert, page 4.) Private Collection Tuberose Gardenia is that idea of heritage and retro brought to life. When Estée Lauder launched Private Collection, she allegedly shared with the public a scent which she originally created for herself and a few friends. Paying the tribute to her grandmother, and at the same time offering herself as a replacement for the Estée-the aspirational model- in the minds and hearts of consumers, Aerin Lauder makes available to the world the scent she “has treasured for so long and shared only with her closest friends”. (Via the Estée Lauder press release.) In an interview to Allure, Aerin Lauder said: “Everyone who smells the new scent really loves it, because it is very floral, and it’s very easy to wear. It’s not polarizing; there is nothing unusual about it. It’s not spicy and scary, it’s just like a beautiful bouquet of flowers.” (Allure, August 2007, page 245) Before I smelled Private Collection Tuberose Gardenia, I found this quote puzzling, doing a disservice to the scent. Easy to wear, nothing unusual about it? After sampling Tuberose Gardenia, I understood that Lauder was talking about the classicism and elegant simplicity of the composition. There is nothing unusual about a white sundress, that eternal summery classic, and yet it is endlessly attractive. The same would be true to say regarding the new Lauder perfume; there is nothing particularly unique about this harmonious union of two white florals, nothing except its lusciousness and its extraordinarily silky feel. Tuberose and gardenia are fierce notes and, when put together, might result in a blend of formidable headiness. In Private Collection, however, the star notes, although not understated, smell soft, non-aggressive. The long-lasting scent certainly has presence, but it is not a forceful presence, the sillage envelopes one gently, like an organza shawl, and does not loudly herald one’s arrival or impolitely linger in the room after one’s departure. It is a simple scent, in a sense that nothing distracts the nose from the natural beauty of the title notes. Tuberose and gardenia appear simultaneously the moment the fragrance is applied, and go hand in hand till the scent wears off, many hours later. The two main notes are apparent from start to finish; in the very beginning, a cold, almost green floral accord, which I take to be lilac and lily, freshens the composition slightly, only to disappear very fast; at some point towards the end, a scent acquires a certain dry piquancy, which might be carnation…but really, if one is not tracking the development at regular intervals in order to prepare a review, one might not register the notes that appear in supporting roles and would probably just enjoy the unadulterated beauty of tuberose and gardenia. When I wear Private Collection Tuberose Gardenia, I feel as if I am one of the “attractive people doing attractive things in attractive places” that inhabit the world of Slim Aarons’s photographs (see his books, Once Upon a Time, A Place in the Sun or A Wonderful Time. An Intimate Portrait Of The Good Life). It is the beau monde of pool parties, croquet and white villas overlooking always-blue seas. The world where women wear white sundresses with simple lines, made of luxurious fabrics, and exude the air of thoroughbred elegance. Coming back to Daniel Annese’s idea of “retro” scents, I would not go so far as to say that Private Collection Tuberose Gardenia smells in any way old-fashioned. It has the patrician elegance, the approachability and the versatility of a classic. Sometimes, when I am in the presence of a scent which, I feel, possesses that indescribably timeless quality that will make it smell as interesting and appealing to my grandkids, years after I am gone, as it is to me now, I get a sort of a pleasant butterflies- in- the-stomach sensation. I have that fluttery feeling every time I smell Private Collection Tuberose Gardenia. Image sources, Estee Lauder, Stanleywise.com. More of my favorite Slim Aarons images here. Please visit Aromascope to read Ina's review of the scent.

Fracas by Robert Piguet

They call me Lola. Lola Lola (Marlen Dietrich), Der Blaue Engel Whenever I smell Fracas, the line from Raymond Chandler's Farewell My Lovely comes to my mind: "It was a blonde. A blonde to make a bishop kick a hole in a stained glass window." Fracas is an olfactory equivalent of a stunning, strong-willed, supremely confident, sharply dressed blonde; to me, it is one of the olfactory portraits of Marlene Dietrich who, according to Jan Moran, did in fact wear Fracas. Fracas starts deceivingly low-key on my skin, almost citrusy, gradually the scents becomes sweeter and sweeter, the fragrance gathers momentum, with the orange blossom note heralding the arrival of the queen tuberose…and suddenly there she is, immense tubéreuse rose à bandes orange (Luca Turin), in all her carnal glory. Tuberose takes the limelight and puts all other notes into the shade, even the usually equally ferocious ones, jasmine and gardenia. The only note able to stand up to tuberose is, unexpectedly, lily of the valley, that note is like a cold silvery streak running through the creamy, luscious middle stage of the perfume. The drydown is vaguely mossy and slightly animalic (musky) to my nose. I am a self-confessed white floral hater, but I adore Fracas. It is a grand scent, a diva, a heady, incredibly sensual perfume, tuberose extraordinaire, and yet it fails to intimidate me. I feel I can actually pull it off. Granted, I need an occasion to wear it, and I have to be dressed to the nines, in an uncluttered and flamboyant Piguet style, but when I do… just call me Lola. Fracas is available at Nordstom Online, $65.00-$190.00

Farewell Tuberose: Do Son by Diptyque

Do Son, Diptyque’s new eau de toilette, was inspired by one of its founder’s childhood memories of Vietnam, back in the 1930s. Yves Coueslant grew up in Haiphong, where his father had a small pagoda built by the seaside, in Do Son. The sea breeze on the terrace used to blend with his mother’s fragrance (she loved tuberose) and the scents of flowers in the heat. Diptyque is one of my favorite fragrance lines; along with Serge Lutens’s, Diptyque’s are the most evocative scents, the quality that I admire and cherish in perfumes the most. I also must add that I have never been a fan of tuberose note in perfumes. I did admire some tuberose-based scents (the sadly discontinued Mea Culpa by Les Parfums de Rosine comes to mind here, with it warm, languorous, sunny tuberose), however I am mostly unable to wear them. Given my love for all the things Diptyque, I hoped that theirs would finally be a tuberose for me, especially after seeing it being described as a delicate and misty tuberose. Unfortunately, even Diptyque failed to make a tuberose scent wearable for this white -floral-phobic. Do Son is a heady, sweet, warm tuberose one me, a sensuous fragrance of flowers lingering in the hot, humid air of an exotic land. Moreover, there is an aquatic note in Do Son, successfully evoking the Do Son beach of Yves Coueslant’s childhood, and while I admire the way this note transports me to the seaside in Vietnam, I am incapable of wearing a perfume with marine undertones. That being said, Do Son is a beautiful scent, full of wonderful summery and exotic images. It is everything that Diptyque’s official description promises it to be: “The evening breeze still carries all its mysteries along, soft lulling exhalation, when the scents of heavy flowers and the seaside wind gently mingle at the end of the day.” Please don’t let my personal skin chemistry issues prevent you from seeking out this gorgeous fragrance. As for me, I will sadly say farewell to my hope of ever finding a tuberose scent after my own heart and will leave you with this beautiful poem called Images, by a Vietnamese poet Van Cao-Pham Duy: Here our steps falter Her eyes are like boats mirrored in the water ...... Here clouds and mountains extend forever Poplars dry their golden hair in the sun... ...... Mist has covered the blue mountains A brown sail rides the springtime waves A wanderer listens to the birds' trills A swallow glides in the clouds Memories of love past... * The photo of Do Son beach is from accessvietnam.net. The photo of Do Son the fragrance is from Diptyque site