Balmain – Ivoire

Balmain – Ivoire27115-pierre-balmain-perfumes-1988-ivoire-hprints-com

Elegant and polished like the keys of a piano, Balmain’s 1979 Ivoire perfectly captures the sensibility of its time and of the refined, luxurious fashions of its creator, Pierre Balmain. While the fragrance can go head to head with the big, bold and brash fragrances of the 1980s, it possesses an earthy quality characteristic of the 1970s. While the name Ivoire, French for ivory, conjures for many images of a big white velvety floral, Ivoire is positively green.

From the outset, Ivoire is dense and layered. On my skin, the fragrance does not unfold in the typical top-heart-base progression, rather it unleashes its depths all at once. Ivoire is green, herbal and floral, with a pungent, spicy warmth at its depth. And while the fragrance does take some twists and turns throughout the day, revealing bright citrus and hints of floral underpinned by galbanum, the warmth of oakmoss and musk is ever present. The drydown is a creamy, woodsy and slightly soapy pillow.

I have a small vintage bottle from the 1980s that I take out whenever I want to feel especially elegant in a confident, Chanel No 19-esque  manner, so I was thrilled to see that Balmain had re-issued the fragrance in 2012. While perfumers Michel Almairac and Jacques Flori are certainly talented in their own right, the beauty of the original was unfortunately lost in translation due to restrictions on perfume materials. The re-issued Ivoire leans more toward a straight floral, and feels sharp and unbalanced without the richness that only true oakmoss and musks can bring. And while it does not possess the elegance of the original 1970s ads, the new marketing photos are a knockout.

ivoiredebalmainvisuelpuNotes: green accord, galbanum, bergamot, lemon, aldehydes, lily of the valley, rose, hyacinth, jasmine, carnation, orris, orchid, geranium, cedar, musk, oakmoss, amber, raspberry and sandalwood.

Cartier – Eau de Cartier Concentree

Cartier – Eau de Cartier Concentree

Cartier Eau de Cartier Concentree_100ml_EdT

Following its launch of Eau de Cartier in 2001, Cartier followed up with a related fragrance, not so much a flanker as a reinforced version of the original. Released in 2002, perfumer Christine Nagel amplified certain of the aspects of the original with the addition of spice notes and, as the name implies, intensifying the concentration. While the original Eau de Cartier was an excellent fragrance, there was some disappointment surrounding its lasting power. In fact, perhaps the only criticism I had of the original was its sillage and longevity, both of which are fairly minimal, but then again it is marketed as an “Eau”.

While Eau de Cartier Concentree comes off as slightly more intense than its predecessor, the general structure of the original remains intact. Eau de Cartier Concentree starts off with a burst of yuzu, a citrus fruit somewhere between a grapefruit and a mandarine. Concentree is enhanced with coriander, giving the opening a bit more “oomph” than the original. At its heart, the fragrance takes on an aqueous floral scent, with a subtle green, medicinal tang from the violet leaves and lavender.

The drydown takes on a considerably more intimate feel, with a deliciously warm, slightly salty, woodsy finish. Concentree feels like a master of disguise, as the fragrance maintains a fresh aspect despite the introduction of patchouli and warm amber.  I have seen the fragrance marketed in different stores as a men’s and women’s fragrance. Needless to say, Eau de Cartier makes an excellent unisex fragrance.

Woods

Notes: yuzu, coriander, bergamot, violet notes, musk, lavender, cedarwood, patchouli and amber

Lubin – Idole Vintage

Lubin – Idole Vintage

Lubin-parfumerie-canettes

After Gilles Thevenin (Guerlain’s former director of creation) rescued the Lubin perfume house from bankruptcy, the group has been hard at work creating a bright future with the release of several new perfumes, in collaboration with the talents of Thomas Fontaine, Delphine Thierry and the supremely talented Olivia Giacobetti.  While the quality and creativity of their new line is undisputed, I have a soft spot for the firm’s vintage creations. So while the internet is flush with reviews of the spicy and almost decadent Idole created by Giacobetti, this review is for the vintage Eau de Parfum released in the 1960s.

Idole was originally released in 1962, and while the modern release bears the same name, this was more a reference than a reformulation. The vintage Idole is a floral chypre, rendered in the elegant and somewhat understated Lubin style. The fragrance opens with a rich, almost fruity, bergamot which seems to be deepened by drop of peach – our first hint of the sensuousness of this creation. Although the fragrance features a heady jasmine rendered velvety and somewhat opulent by a lush Lily of the Valley note, Idole never becomes cloying or over-powering. There is a slight hint of woods emanating from the heart, giving the perfume just a touch of smoke and depth. I have found Lubin’s vintage fragrances to be extremely well-crafted, with an emphasis on quality ingredients and thoughtful compositions. In Idole, Lubin achieved a lovely balance between the rich floral notes by interposing a warm animalic base redolent of leather and moss.

00482-lubin-1912-hprints-comIdole is certainly more unabashedly “feminine” than other Lubin fragrances I have tested, and this fragrance seems to me their version of the femme fatale parfum. That being said, the fragrance maintains a type of discretion that keeps it lady-like in the midst of its sensuality. If you have not had the opportunity of sampling any of Lubin’s vintage fragrances, I would highly recommend seeking them out via a decant service. Kudos to Thevenin for resurrecting this house and for developing what will no doubt be the next generation of vintage masterpieces.

Floral Chypre

Notes: Bergamot, jasmine, lily of the valley, woods, leather and oakmoss

 

 

L.T. Piver – Cuir

L.T. Piver – Cuir

LIGNE-PIVER-CUIRWhile not well-known in the United States, the French L.T.Piver house has been producing fine fragrances for over two centuries. The firm dates its origins back to the court of Louis XVI and has continued through the to the twenty-first century, adapting many of its traditional fragrances to a modern sensibility. Similar to the houses of Lubin and Guerlain, L.T. Piver became an official purveyor to the royal court of Louis XVI and later expanded to the other royal families of Europe.

The firm is named for Louis Toussaint Piver who began the Piver legacy, and helped propel it to international acclaim in England, Belgium, Spain, Austria, Russia and Brazil. L.T. Piver maintained a flower-processing factory in Grasse, plus a second facility in Aubervilliers dedicated to the manufacture of cosmetic products, of which L.T. Piver created a prodigious range. Similar to Guerlain, the firm commissioned special edition bottles from Baccarat and Lalique, which would be destined to become collector’s items.

This review is for the modern Cuir produced as an Eau de Toilette by L.T. Piver. The fragrance was imagesoriginally created at the end of the nineteenth century under the Cuir de Russie moniker, consistent with that era’s fascination with Russian culture. This manufacture date makes L.T. Piver’s creation a contemporary of Guerlain’s Cuir de Russie, and indeed, the two share certain similarities. Both feature a stronger, smokier birch tar smell than either the Chanel or Lubin Cuirs, giving the fragrance a more rustic feel. The strength of their smell characters also feels decidedly more masculine, although the Guerlain Cuir softens to a floral heart in the drydown, while the L.T. Piver maintains a fairly homogenous character throughout its wear. The modern L.T. Piver Cuir is marketed to a male audience, so the emphasis on the strong birch tar aspect without a softer, floral counterpoint seems intentional, but gives the fragrance a somewhat one-dimensional aspect when compared to the Guerlain.

Cuir’s opening features a bright citrus accord of mandarin and bergamot, which serve to lighten the fragrance somewhat and create a sense of refreshment.  As the smoky birch tar unfolds, I detect the spicy notes of clove and cinnamon, giving the fragrance a rich feeling, one that makes it suitable for autumn or winter use. At the heart of Cuir is a hint of soapiness, and here is where the fragrance begins to soften somewhat. At its base, Cuir features a touch of woods and oakmoss, sweetened by a honey-like note, which I imagine to be the coumarin making its presence felt.

While Cuir does possess a distinct character that makes it a natural choice for a man, this is definitely a fragrance that can be carried off well by a woman who is not afraid of bracing leathers. The fragrance is fairly tenacious, lasting well throughout the day without fading excessively. The sillage, while potent, is never offensive with careful application, though I would not suggest more than 2 sprays of the fragrance.

Leather 140

Notes: Bergamot, mandarin, leather, woods, spices and honey

 

 

Chanel – Cuir de Russie

Chanel – Cuir de Russie

There are those fragrances that carry with them strong emotional associations, either because they were worn by a loved one, or because they were our close companion in the journey of life. My first encounter with Chanel’s Cuir de Russie was not unlike a scene in a movie where the protagonist’s life flashes before their eyes, revealing a series of memories and profound emotions. I was flooded with a thousand images and impressions. The stillness of the air on a cold winter night. The fur collar on my Russian great-grandfather’s coat mingled with the sweet scent of tobacco. The finest leather gloves and the elegance of a scented handkerchief. And yet how could a fragrance unknown to me have this effect?

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Of the four Cuir de Russie fragrances  I have tested, for me, Chanel’s interpretation most closely embodied the romanticism and elegance of the genre and of the individuals who inspired its creation. Chanel’s fragrance embodies the exotic elements which the exiled Russian community brought with them to Paris, and yet it captures all of the refined elegance of their new home. Chanel’s Cuir de Russie personifies the spirit of the Roaring Twenties, where flappers shocked the world with their emancipated fashions, their dancing and smoking.

Chanel’s Cuir is a close contemporary of Lubin’s, and indeed the two share some similarities making it evident that they are variations on a theme. While the Guerlain Cuir de Russie invokes a rustic, revolutionary feel, Chanel’s is starkly different. Chanel’s Cuir de Russie was created in 1924, by master nose Ernest Beaux, himself a Russian exile. Beaux was born in Moscow and  trained in perfumery with the prestigious A. Rallet and Company, creator of perfumes for the courts of Imperial Russia. He eventually settled in Paris in 1919. He was introduced to Coco Chanel by the Grand Duke Dmitri Pavlovich of Russia, giving rise to a very successful and prodigious professional alliance.

Chanel’s Cuir starts out with a familiar burst of hesperidic aldehydes, which will be immediately familiar to devotees of Chanel No 5. But where No 5 softens to reveal a floral heart, Cuir de Russie unleashes a series of provocative notes: the sweet and acrid tobacco, an animalic fur note complete with a touch of mothballs, as though an elegant old coat had been taken out of storage in preparation for winter. The heart is an elegant floral composition which also feels like familiar Chanel territory, the finest examples of jasmine, rose and ylang ylang available. The fragrance culminates in the beauty of leather, the softest, most supple leather imaginable, and yet through its smoky darkness, retains a touch of the soft floral heart.

This review is based upon both the vintage parfum and the reformulated version available from the Chanel Les Exclusifs line. Both are phenomenal, with the parfum revealing more of the depth and beauty of the animalic leather notes and the eau de toilette possessing more of the life of aldehydes.

Leather Oriental

Notes: Orange Blossom, Bergamot,  Mandarin, Jasmine, Rose, Ylang-Ylang and Birchwood

Christian Dior – Dune

Christian Dior – Dune

christian-dior-dune-kristina-semenovskaya_thumb[3]An increasingly central focus of modern perfumery is advertising. While advertising in different forms has always been key to promoting perfume to consumers, budgets have increased exponentially in recent years, vastly surpassing the cost of producing the actual perfume. Fragrance houses also use advertising as a means of promoting (or creating) a perfume’s identity, the fantasy we consumers are lulled into buying.

After the impossibly extroverted perfumes of the 1980s, the 1990s shifted the focus to cleaner, lighter, marine-inspired scents. The advertising also seemed equally “sanitized” after the more provocative ads of the 1980s, perhaps in reaction to changing social mores after an era of decadence. Case in point, a comparison of the advertising for Christian Dior’s Dune, which features ethereal beauties and that of its 1985 release Poison, which often featured black-clad and heavily made-up dark beauties. And yet with Dune, despite the serene advertisements depicting blonde beauties lounging on a beach, I am reminded not of a seaside retreat, but of the rippled sand dunes on a distant planet in an imaginary universe created by Frank Herbert.

Dune, published in 1965 and hailed as the world’s best-selling science fiction novel, tells the story of an intergalactic struggle to dominate a single planet, Dune, in order to control the precious substance cultivated there: spice. The spice, ironically named “Melange”, is similar to a narcotic: highly addictive, becoming more so with prolonged use. Spice/Melange is valued above all else for its ability to expand consciousness, prolong life and allow for instantaneous interstellar travel. Paul Atreides and his mother, a member of the Bene Gesserit sisterhood – a group of women with mystical and witchlike powers – relocate to the planet Dune with the mission of overseeing spice production, a difficult and dangerous process, due to the existence of giant sandworms which patrol the planet’s surface, protecting the spice which is formed deep within the planet’s core.

Paul Atreides and his mother, the Lady Jessica

Paul Atreides and his mother, the Lady Jessica

The planet’s local inhabitants, known as Fremen, are greatly impressed by the mystical powers which Paul and his mother possess and believe Paul to be their long-awaited messiah. Paul instinctively knows that the key to power in the universe is directly tied to the control of spice production and befriends the Fremen, learning their survival tactics and teaching them some of the magical powers he has inherited from his mother, the Lady Jessica. The movie, released in 1984, is replete with scenes of Paul leading the Fremen, wearing futuristic black leather suits which protect them from the harsh desert elements and allow them to preserve the water given off by their bodies, which is absolutely vital to life on this dry, arrid planet. The smell of Melange is said to be pervasive and according to one character, its scent “is “never twice the same… It’s like life – it presents a different face each time you take it”.

Paul leading the Fremen

Paul leading the Fremen

Nothing could more aptly describe Christian Dior’s Dune. While certain fragrances are changeable during the stages of wear, Dune appears to be in a constant state of flux, throwing off different impressions by the second. Created in 1993 by a group of perfumers led by Jean-Louis Sieuzac, Dune is positively otherworldly. It possesses the heat of the desert under the daylight’s scorching sun and the dry quality of its unrelenting winds.  And yet it is completely devoid of warmth at the same time, feeling as black and cold as the leather suits worn by the Fremen. Dune’s ability to hover between fragrant realities is nothing short of magic.

Dune opens with a bitter, slightly anisic herbal punch that borders on the masculine, yet quickly fades to reveal a strange floral heart. The fragrance notes are deceptive, as Dune’s flowers have a dry, arrid quality which renders them largely unrecognizable. While peony and jasmine appear to dominate, the slightly green quality of the fragrance at times give me a carrot note. The marine aspect makes its presence felt in a subtle salty quality – the whisper of the winds across the fragrant sands – which kick up individual notes onto the wind. Similar to the Spice Melange, Dune is never the same twice – sometimes bitter and mossy, sometimes musky and floral – and yet always lovely.

While the entire fragrance is discernible from the opening, Dune mellows over time, revealing a hint of vanillic amber rounded by moss and woods. There is a softness to Dune, however, the fragrance is not light – it is like hearing a very powerful and complex orchestra piece played at a very low volume. Like shifting sands, the inconstant nature of Dune makes it a pleasure for some and uncomfortable for others. I personally adore this subtle, changeable aspect of Dune and am always thrilled when someone remembers this lesser known beauty, winner of a 1993 FiFi award.

*As an aside, the one attribute of Dune I find puzzling is its color which is soft and flesh-like, gorgeously displayed in its beautiful winged bottle. When I imagine Dune, in all its complexity, in its searing heat and biting coldness, it is as black as the Fremen’s leather suits.

Marine Oriental

Notes: bergamot, mandarin, palisander, aldehyde, peony, broom, jasmine, rose, ylang-ylang, lily, wallflower, lichen, vanilla, patchouli, benzoin, sandalwood, amber, oakmoss, and musk.

 

Guerlain – Shalimar

Guerlain – Shalimar: Taking Risks

art_deco_perfume_bottle_guerlain_shalimar

I have a photograph of my mother as a young woman in Italy on her honeymoon. She is sitting at a vanity in her hotel room, which overlooks the Spanish Steps. Her thick, long black hair is set up in hot rollers. She sits, dressed in a deep red cashmere turtleneck, applying makeup with the expertise of an artist. While most of us would protest at being photographed in this manner, just before the camera clicks, she gives my father a loving smile with all of the confidence of a beautiful young woman who knows she is loved.

If you could travel through time and step into the photograph, the scent that would pervade the room would be Shalimar, itself a long-standing symbol of romantic love. Shalimar was created by Jacques Guerlain in 1925, named for the beautiful gardens surrounding the Taj Majal built by the Emperor Shah Jahan for his wife Mumtaz Mahal. While I always admired Shalimar intellectually as the paragon of oriental fragrances, I had difficulty getting past my emotional associations with the fragrance. For years, I would try the fragrance on when passing a Guerlain counter, and yet, something did not seem right. While I loved all of the component notes in theory – a bright bergamot opening, a floral heart of jasmine and rose and a warm enveloping radiance of vanilla and the smoky amber of tonka – I experienced these as a screechy and suffocating cloud. My mother and I have somewhat similar tastes in fragrance, so I was baffled. What had she found so alluring about this fragrance that inspired her to wear it for so many years? Why did it unfold so differently on me? After some time, I moved on, and found my own Guerlain loves, until…

I had decided to take part in a perfume auction which listed a vintage Guerlain in a rosebud bottle developed in the 1950s, which had housed several of their fragrances including L’Heure Bleue, Mitsouko, Ode and Vol de Nuit. Unfortunately, the bottle had no label and the seller was not a perfume collector, so the contents remained a mystery. Given that the bottle could have contained any number of beauties which I loved, I decided to take a risk and bid on the item. Based on the color of the fragrance, which was a deep, rich caramel, I reasoned that it must be Mitsouko. I only hoped that it wasn’t Shalimar. I bid, and I won and then I awaited the arrival of my mystery fragrance.

When the bottle arrived, I scarcely made it to the car before opening the box. I opened it and inhaled. It wasn’t Mitsouko. It wasn’t Vol de Nuit. It definitely wasn’t Ode or Jicky. What was this beauty? I dabbed on the perfume and stepped into an appointment.

claude-monet-cathedrale-de-rouen-le-portail-et-la-tour-saint-romain-effet-du-matin-harmonie-blanche

Over the next couple of hours, I was treated to the most opulent, gentle, unfolding of a fragrance I had ever experienced. The notes were warm and distinct, each hovering about me before softly cascading into the next. I was reminded of Monet’s series of paintings of the Cathedral at Rouen. He would sit outside all day, with numerous easels before him. As the light changed, he would move on to the next easel and paint the same façade anew. The effect of the paintings when viewed together is a soft transition of light across the face of the Cathedral. I was similarly entranced and mystified until…

cropwm Hardly aware of its arrival, there it was: the lush, vanilla drydown of Shalimar, which is unmistakable. Jacques Guerlain was known to have employed two different vanilla components to render this complex and amber-like vanilla which is unique to Guerlain, and rendered especially opulent in Shalimar. I was humbled for presuming that one of history’s greatest noses had created something less than a masterpiece, and embarrassed for not having wanted it.

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While I attribute much of my new-found love for Shalimar to the quality of the vintage version versus those currently in production, circumstances certainly played a role. My ignorance to the scent’s identity and my desire for it to be something “else” allowed me to experience the fragrance without my prior personal barriers or associations. Shalimar taught me that the pursuit of fragrance sometimes requires risks, the rewards of which are often love.

Oriental

Notes: bergamot, lemon, jasmine, rose, iris, incense, opopanax, tonka bean, and vanilla.

 

Robert Piguet – Fracas

Robert Piguet – Fracas

tuberose-blossom

There are some fragrances which are love at first sniff, as though the scent satisfied some intense longing we never knew we had. And there are those which we struggle with, knowing conceptually that they are the stuff of legacy, but which we are nevertheless unable to embrace. While most would pass on a perfume that failed to capture their immediate attention, many perfumistas have confessed to a struggle with one classic or another until either the relationship ended, or a lifetime romance began. For me, it was Fracas.

Perhaps it was not the fragrance itself as much as it was tuberose, the heady white flower which when used injudiciously can evoke images of a Hawaiian luau. The name also befuddled me, as fracas implies a noisy conflict or quarrel and I found none of that here. I had a vintage bottle which I kept for reference purposes mostly, taking it out every now and then to re-test, which I did regularly over the years. Perhaps there was some half-forgotten association from childhood, but whatever the reason, the lovely little bottle went unloved for many years.

And then something magical happened. The way an old friend who has waited patiently in the wings while you date the more flashy suitors, I found myself thinking of Fracas and wondering if there might be something there, some magic spark. Magic indeed. Fracas was created by Germaine Cellier in 1948, one of the few female noses and a master of her craft. In addition to other memorable Piguet fragrances, she was the genius behind Balmain’s Vent Vert.

Fracas

While Cellier used a perfume base in her creation of Fracas, a dense, luscious tuberose dominates the landscape and indeed, it appears that any other flowers are there to support tuberose in its leading role. Upon application, one notices immediately that Fracas is like no other. The citrus opening is miles away from the ordinary, lush and rich, rather than sparkling.  As the tuberose unfolds, it seems impossibly large, buoyed by the presence of jasmine and violet, which lend to the fragrance’s deep indolic quality. There is an unctuous sensation to the fragrance, as though the tuberose had turned to syrup.  While iris helps to temper the creation slightly, Fracas envelops you in a thick velvety haze that is indolic one moment and pure butter the next. Fracas is tuberose on the point of turning, with animalic references throughout enforced by the depths of oakmoss and woods.

Fracas feels both sophisticated and sensual. It is a fragrance which one must give oneself over to, as it is completely enveloping, to the point of rapture. And now that I have given myself over, there is no turning back.

Floral

Notes: bergamot, orange blossom, greens, peach, tuberose, jasmine, violet, iris, lily of the valley, carnation, sandalwood, musk, oakmoss, and cedar.

 

Guerlain – Chant D’Aromes

Guerlain – Chant D’Aromes

chant-daromes21Chant D’Aromes was the first solo creation of Jean-Paul Guerlain after the retirement of his grandfather Jacques. Chant D’Aromes was released in 1962, before much of the social and political upheaval which would come to define the era. The name, roughly translated as “Song of Scents” is especially revealing for me, because within Chant D’Aromes, I detect the seedlings of all of the magnificent creations Jean-Paul would cultivate throughout his illustrious career. If Aime Guerlain was innovation, and Jacques contemplation, Jean-Paul would soon prove to be flirtation.

While overall, Chant D’Aromes gives the impression of a light-hearted floral bouquet with rich peachy undertones, within the opening notes, I detect the slightest sharpness that would be the unforgettable introduction to Chamade. As the seedlings begin to unfurl out of their sharp green hyacinth cases, the radiant fruity warmth of what would become Nahema is apparent. Chant D’Aromes also has a slight animalic note that would re-appear in many of Jean-Paul’s creations, subtle enough not to cloud the overall innocent impression of the composition, yet an unmistakable nod to the scent of the woman whom these flowers adorn.

While Chant is a lovely fragrance in its own right, it conveys all of the exuberance of youth not yet tempered by long years of experience. Chant is jubilant and smells of a celebration, as though Jean-Paul was able to distill a thousand disparate thoughts about love and perfume and harmonize them into a glorious nectar. While his later fragrances would achieve a level of sophistication comparable to that of his predecessors, Chant is a beautiful creation that captures the excitement and passion of a young man in love. This by no means is meant to imply that Chant is an amateurish creation – on the contrary, Chant D’Aromes reflects a level of craftsmanship that surpasses many of the perfumes available today.

chant_daromes_color_ad I am fortunate enough to have vintage versions of the extrait and eau de cologne which are similar in character, with the eau de cologne being slightly more powdery. I have not sampled the most recent reformulation, but understand that it bears a closer resemblance to Chant D’Aromes than prior attempts.

Floral Chypre

Notes: bergamot, mandarin, peach, tuberose, ylang ylang, , gardenia, honeysuckle, jasmine, helichrysum, iris, cedar and sandalwood, musk, oakmoss, frankincense, vetiver, and tonka bean.

Editions de Parfums Frederic Malle – Iris Poudre

Editions de Parfums Frederic Malle – Iris Poudre

iris

Iris is one of my favorite perfume notes, so I am constantly seeking out fragrances where it is prominently featured. The 2000 launch of Iris Poudre taught me, however, that not all irises are created equal. Indeed, Iris Poudre, while undoubtedly lovely, is not very iris-like, nor does it contain much poudre (French for powder). The nose behind this fragrance is Pierre Bourdon, the man behind behind such classics as Yves Saint Laurent’s Kouros, as well as Feminite du Bois in collaboration with Christopher Sheldrake.

Several have drawn comparisons between Iris Poudre and Chanel No 5, however the aldehydes in Iris Poudre are more evanescent than the sparkling champagne bubbles of Mademoiselle Chanel’s iconic fragrance. Where No 5 is crisp, Poudre is shimmery. While the iris becomes more prominent in the heart, it feels overshadowed and is rendered almost fruit-like by the presence of ylang-ylang, magnolia and jasmine. Absent from Iris Poudre is the metallic tang of iris or its deep, earthy root smell. While the fragrance takes on a delicate, fluffy warmth in the drydown thanks to some delicious, nearly edible amber and musk, I found that the absence of the ghost-like aspects of iris gave the fragrance a slightly two-dimensional feel. A serious contender, but unfortunately not the winner for the top iris fragrance. iris poudre2

Notes: Bergamot, Orange, Rosewood, Ylang-Ylang, Carnation, Magnolia, Jasmine, Muguet, Violetta-Rose, Aldehydes, Iris, Musk, Amber, Sandalwood and Ebony.