Yves Saint Laurent – Champagne / Yvresse

Yves Saint Laurent – Champagne / Yvresse

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Nothing conveys a sense of luxury and celebration quite like champagne: the excitement of its bubbles, crisp effervescence and intoxicating aroma. Fragrance names are often selected to invoke a certain imagery or romanticism, and Yves Saint Laurent’s 1993 release was no exception. Depsite the legal battle which ensued over the fragrance’s name when the Comité Interprofessionnel du vin de Champagne sought to protect the cultural heritage of the beverage, there is nothing particularly controversial about the fragrance. It is simply luxurious, bright and perhaps a touch heady in the way of its namesake.

The opening bursts with a quick progression of notes which mimics rising champagne bubbles in a glass. Pungent nectarine, deep rose, a touch of anise and violet compete for top billing. For those who are wary of the cumin note, fear not. While the cumin adds a slight earthy quality to the fragrance which mimics the bite of champagne, it is not very distinct, and much less apparent than in the reformulated Rochas Femme.

champagne glasses

The fragrance’s heart reveals an accord that will seem familiar to Sophia Grojsman fans, as she presents another variation on her fruity rose trick. I prefer Champagne’s composition to that of her other opus Lancôme Trésor, as it feels more balanced when juxtaposed against a classical chypre base of oakmoss, patchouli, vetiver and vanilla.

Champagne’s spin on chypre is extremely accessible and quite lovely. Despite the musty, earthy smell which oakmoss can sometimes lend to a composition, Champagne manages to remain bright and light. While the fragrance certainly alludes to such classics as Mitsouko and Rochas Femme with the interplay between fruit and chypre, Champagne seems like the light-hearted, blonde younger sister of these two dark-haired beauties. Champagne in turn appears to have influenced modern perfumery, as one can glimpse hints of its structure in Chanel’s 31 Rue Cambon.

Champagne, later re-named Yvresse as a play on the French “ivresse” or “intoxication”, is an easy-to-wear, exuberant fragrance. No matter what the occasion or indeed the outfit, that always makes me feel elegant and in the mood to celebrate.

Fruity Chypre

Notes: Nectarine, Anise, Mint, Violet, Cumin, Rose, Lychee, Oakmoss, Patchouli, Vetiver, Vanilla.

Serge Lutens – Douce Amere

Serge Lutens – Douce Amere

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Fall is without a doubt my favorite season. While we face the bitter regret of another summer passed, we can rejoice in the knowing that sweet times lie ahead in the coming months, where the endless holidays give us reason to unite with family and friends. That interplay which makes life interesting carries over to fragrance as well, where the juxtaposition of seemingly incongruous elements often creates something which is greater than the sum of its parts.

Christopher Sheldrake perfectly captures this duality in Serge Lutens’s Douce Amere, a 2000 fragrance which is only available outside the U.S. at present. Mention “oriental” and “Lutens” in the same sentence and no doubt Ambre Sultan will come to mind, but Douce Amere is one of Lutens’ most unique creations, despite not being his most well-known. On first sniff, it doesn’t smell like an oriental, nor does it smell much like a Lutens, as it features none of the velvety, viscous, jammy qualities many of his fragrances are known for. Douce Amere is instead like a pale green chiffon, light and sumptuous, but slightly synthetic in a deliciously elegant way.

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Douce Amere starts off with a blast of medicinal wormwood, a bitter green in the manner of Diptyque’s Eau de Lierre (in character only, the two smell nothing alike). The herbal concoction is lightened by a touch of mint, which is so subtle and elusive it seems to linger just out of reach. The green fairy, as absinthe was traditionally known, then spreads her glorious wings with subtle floral notes, tiare being the most prevalent to my nose, but maintains a largely anisic character throughout.

 First bitter, then sweet, it’s absinthe of course.

As green as wormwood is grey, these two ideas tussle inside me… only to kiss and make up on the skin.       Serge Lutens

Just when one imagines that the bitterness has taken hold, Douce Amere turns on the point of a knife into a soft, slightly powdery skin scent. A light musk, with a whisper soft woods, renders a delicate sweetness which speaks to some of chocolate. It serves to soften and sweeten the bitterness of the fragrance, but Douce Amere retains a light dry quality throughout which keeps it from becoming a true gourmand. While the two fragrances smell nothing alike, the combination of anise with subtle gourmand elements reminds me of the effect created by Guerlain’s L’Heure Bleue, although that masterpiece possesses the furry, warm quality we generally associate with orientals, while Douce Amere does not.

Like many of the Lutens fragrances, Douce Amere has wonderful lasting power, but its sillage is much gentler, wearing more politely close to the skin than say Chypre Rouge. I enjoy the tension created by the transition between bitter and sweet, but find Douce Amere deliciously wearable, even in warm weather.

Notes: Absinthe, Cinnamon, Anise, Lily, Jasmine, Tiare, Tagette, Marigold, Musk, Cedar.

 

Guerlain – L’Heure Bleue

Guerlain – L’Heure Bleue

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Vincent Van Gogh – Starry Night over the Rhone

It is often those things which we are closest to that we fail to see objectively, blotting out any shortcomings or imperfections. While this trait is certainly desirable in love, it can render a perfume review nearly impossible. 2012 was the 100 year anniversary of Guerlain’s L’Heure Bleue, which was created by Jacques Guerlain, arguably one of the greatest noses of all time. And while Guerlain released a gorgeous anniversary edition, as well as three noteworthy re-interpretations of the classic, I found myself unable to compose a single word on the subject of what is perhaps my most beloved perfume. It is only now that the anniversary has passed, and that the pages upon pages on the blogosphere celebrating this masterful creation have subsided, that I feel up to the task of dissecting the beloved.

L’Heure Bleue, French for the blue hour, is named for the quality of light displayed at dusk, when the rays of the sun have softened and suffused, just before night takes its grip on the world.   This hour signals the end of the day and has traditionally been associated with other-worldly events. The term has also been used to describe life in Pre-WWI Paris, a time before the baser forces of the world reared their ugly heads and interrupted an idyllic existence. L’Heure Bleue often feels for me like time suspended – the sky has given up the light of the sun, and patiently awaits the arrival of its stars – a quiet breath before the stillness of the night.

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L’Heure Bleue is distinctly a fragrance of its time, embodying many of the ideals of the turn of the century and events preceding. If L’Heure Bleue were to be rendered in a painting, for me it would display the spirit of the Impressionists, where form was second to emotion. L’Heure Bleue is mapped out with soft, subtle strokes that meld and merge on the skin into an olfactory masterpiece. Most telling perhaps is a description of the fragrance from the mouth of its creator Jacques Guerlain: “The sun has gone to bed but the night has not yet arrived. It is the uncertain hour. In the light of a profound blue, everything, the shivering foliage, the lapping waters, is concentrated to express a love, a kinship, an infinite tenderness. Suddenly, man is in harmony with his surroundings, the time of a second, the time of a perfume” (Jacques Guerlain on L’Heure Bleue taken from the Cent Cinquantenaire anniversary book, translation mine).

In L’Heure Bleue, Jacques Guerlain was able to capture this magic of suspended time, as though he had distilled the blueness right out of the sky. In its hesperidic opening, it captures the final light of the golden orb as it dips down below the horizon. A powdery veil of heliotrope, iris and anise convey the suffusion of these last remaining rays of light, and create a sensory impression of the deepest blue. Jasmine and Bulgarian rose announce the richness of the night sky, like a velvet shroud which will drape and cover the land in its soft folds. And at its depth, the vanilla, tonka and amber shine with all the resplendence of the evening stars. L’Heure Bleue is often said to have a gourmand quality to it, as the notes of anise, heliotrope, tonka and vanillin create a patisserie-like impression. This should not be confused, however, with the modern gourmands which possess a distinctly sweet, candy-like scent. The overall effect is stunning and while the fragrance possesses a distinct character, it is one of refinement and grace. It is no wonder then that L’Heure Bleue counts Queen Elizabeth and Catherine Deneuve as admirers, the latter identifying it for many years as a signature scent.

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This review is for the vintage version of L’Heure Bleue which is available from various decant services and from reputable sellers on Ebay. While I adore the parfum version, even the eau de toilette and eau de cologne are worth sampling, and the latter especially has an extraordinary powder-like quality to is which is in keeping with the fragrance’s overall character. Unfortunately, this fragrance in its current form is one of my greater disappointments in the Guerlain line, so I highly recommend seeking out a pre-formulation version.

Oriental

Notes: Orange blossom, anise, heliotrope, iris, rose, jasmine, vanilla, tonka and amber.