Kenzo Jungle L’Elephant

Kenzo Jungle L’Elephant

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October is officially upon us, marking the beginning of sweater weather for many. I live in a part of the world where it stays warm and humid for quite a bit longer, but the changing daylight patterns make me crave my fall and winter perfume wardrobe terribly. While there are some fragrances which will need to wait a little longer before coming into rotation, I start craving an oriental that can straddle the seasons and help tide me over until the cooler weather finally arrives.

I am always struck by how original Kenzo Jungle L’Elephant is, especially for its time. Were it to be released today (instead of in 1996), it would surely have been as a niche creation. It is without question one of Dominique Ropion’s more unique scents, a distinction it shares with Carnal Flower and Thierry Mugler’s Alien. L’Elephant is a wonderful melange of spices underscored by smoky woods and soft cashmeran. The sparkling mandarin opening is enlivened by cardamom, cloves and cumin. While I am not particularly reminded of either a jungle or an elephant, I do have the sense of being swept away on an exotic adventure.

Elephant de la Bastille watercolor by Jean Alavoine

Elephant de la Bastille watercolor by Jean Alavoine

L’Elephant’s heart is slightly anisic, the perfect interlude into its delicious woody base. While amber and cashmeran can often give a fragrance a dense heady quality, L’Elephant manages to remain light and sparkling. L’Elephant has terrific lasting power but is never overwhelming the way some of its sister orientals can be. L’Elephant can be found online for a reasonable price at several discount retailers or on eBay, where I purchased mine. It is an energizing, powerful scent which never fails to give me a lift.

Notes: Mandarin, Cardamom, Cumin, Clove, Ylang-Ylang, Licorice, Mango, Heliotrope, Patchouli, Vanilla, Amber, Cashmere.

Kenzo Flower

Kenzo Flower

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Created in 2000 by Alberto Morillas, Flower by Kenzo appears to be undergoing a renaissance as of late. The folks over at LVMH have created a lovely new ad/commercial for a flanker known as Flower in the Air (seen here and here), which emphasizes the fragrance’s special character. While I have yet to get my hands on a sample, I thought it a perfect time to review the original Flower. Although it is a clearly contemporary creation in terms of its structure, Flower has one foot squarely in the past, paying deference to some of the great perfume classics.

Flower was  styled as a poppy fragrance, meant to represent the scent of this supposedly scentless flower (though a fellow collector friend tells me the plants have a sharp green scent). Press marketing aside, Flower is a soft powdery violet with aspects reminiscent of L’Heure Bleue and Royal Champagne de Caron.  While the most recent sample of Flower I picked up seems reformulated and less brilliant than I recall, it is nevertheless closer to its happy, carefree self than either of its forebears.

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Flower’s fluffy violet is grounded by hints of vanilla, musk and opoponax, all of which are painted in soft brush strokes keeping the fragrance light throughout. While the fragrance has fairly good lasting power, it never feels heavy, and manages to convey its message in whispers. Flower is a lovely, relatively affordable choice when one needs the singular lift only a fragrance can bring. Perfect for a younger woman just venturing into fragrances.

The Flower line was expanded to include body products and though I have not seen it in person, the Sephora site claims that the new flacons are now re-fillable!

Floral

Notes: Wild Hawthorne, Bulgarian Rose, Parma Violet, Cassia, Opoponax, White Musk, Vanilla.

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Guerlain – Aqua Allegoria Figue Iris

Guerlain – Aqua Allegoria Figue Iris

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By now you have surely come to the conclusion that perfume is one of my guilty pleasures. The way other people reach for a cocktail when they get home to unwind, I grab a bottle of a different kind and apply liberally to melt away the stresses of my day. I am sure all perfumistas have some fragrance in their wardrobe that is a guiltier pleasure than they would like to admit to. For me, it’s Guerlain’s Aqua Allegoria Figue Iris.

While the Aqua Allegoria line started out as an exercise in minimalism, somewhere along the way (i.e. after the departure of Mathilde Laurent), the entire project went haywire, resulting in odd and sometimes abrasive compositions. With a few exceptions, such as this here, many of the fragrances had a light, delicate character that made them good introductory Guerlains.

Not so with Figue Iris. The first time I smelled it, I was slightly horrifed, as I was expecting a light green fig enhanced by magical iris dust. What I got instead was a dense, surreal impression of the inner pulp of a fig: juicy, ripe, heavy and pungent which segued into a very lush (and slightly plastic) iris, with a hint of violet deepened by a rich vanilla. No subtlety, no light romance, just FIG and IRIS in mile high pink letters.

A f ew months went by and I was sorting samples and came across it again, and applied it absent-mindedly. This time I liked it, almost in spite of myself. I admitted my bizarre newfound affection to a fellow collector who was slightly horrified as well, but we agreed that it was no worse than any other fruity floral on the market. I finished my sample and found myself longing for this plush, plastic fig.  Before I knew it, the search was on to try and track down a bottle because this 2008 release had long been discontinued.

While I cannot help but wish Guerlain would have served this up as a traditional perfume and invested the resources to make it more complex, when it comes down to it, it smells really good. While it lacks the sophistication of say a Diptyque or Hermes fig, ironically, this is one of the fragrances that I get the most compliments on when I wear it, which is on rare occasions given that I had to track my bottle down halfway around the world from a seller in Spain who had one to spare.

Fruity Floral

Notes: Citrus, Violet, Iris, Fig, Milky Notes, Wood Notes, Vanilla, Vetiver.

 

Hierbas de Ibiza – Agua de Colonia Fresca

Hierbas de Ibiza – Agua de Colonia Fresca

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While I am lucky enough to have cobbled together a nice collection of perfumes and samples over the years, I am truly fortunate to have friends that are eager to share their fragrances with me, allowing me to experience scents I may not have otherwise had access to. Some of these are avid collectors, and some have only a few bottles in their repetoire, but the generosity and enthusiasm of each and every one of them is part of what makes the exploration of fragrances so enjoyable.

One such friend introduced me to Agua de Colonia Fresca by Hierbas de Ibiza, a family-operated perfumer that has been creating Mediterranean-inspired scents since 1965. While the group started out small, creating fragrances on a fairly intimate scale, the success of their products has ultimately landed them in prestigious retailers such as Barney’s.

The groups’ self-professed star creation is Agua de Colonia Fresca Hierbas de Ibiza. While the official notes have a dizzying list of citrus, floral and savory notes, the fragrance is fairly straight-forward in execution, consistent with the house’s motto of “simplicity and spontaneity”. Hierbas de Ibiza starts out super sharp and citrusy, with a slight herbal bitterness reminiscent of lemon pith. The fragrance quickly sweetens into a sorbet-like lemon confection but retains its bright, sharp character.  During the drydown, some of the green savory notes make a brief appearance, with rosemary and thyme being dominant.

Then, in what feels like an abrupt about-face, Hierbas de Ibiza largely changes its character in the drydown, transforming into a soft, warm and slightly musky vanilla veil. Given the fragrance’s playful opening and associations with the Mediterranean, I feared it might veer into the suntan-lotion category, but Hierbas de Ibiza’s vanilla is warm rather than sweet. Upon first application, the sillage is bold and viviacious. About an hour or so after the vanilla first makes its appearance, the fragrance is barely detectable, which is my main disappointment with Hierbas de Ibiza. That and the fact that I am not currently in Ibiza wearing sandals, a sundress and a deep suntan while I reapply it.

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Citrus
Notes: orange, lemon, lavender, lemon verbena, rosemary, thyme, sage, verbena, geranium, jasmine, orange blossom, cinnamon, and vanilla

Guerlain – Aqua Allegoria Ylang & Vanille

Guerlain – Aqua Allegoria Ylang & Vanille

Ylang-Ylang

For the most part, the Aqua Allegoria series by Guerlain feel like watercolor impressions of fruit and floral bouquets. The various Eau de Toilettes generally have a light character, making them perfect summertime fragraces when one is fresh out of the shower with clean scrubbed hair. The exception to the original series released in 1999 is Ylang & Vanille, a heavier, fairly opulent floral oriental, more in the style of traditional Guerlain scents.

True to its name, the fragrance largely focuses on the interplay of the exotic Ylang Ylang and luscious vanilla notes. The fragrance opening highlights the sharper, greener aspects of the flower, but quickly softens into a sumptuous floral veil that feels like a thick, plush robe. While there are subtle notes of jasmine and carnation, they are barely discernable and act more to highlight the lush Ylang Ylang. The flower’s distinctive fragrance reminds me of balmy days in humid tropical islands and its deep, voluptuous scent can add heft to a perfume. In Ylang & Vanille, Guerlain does nothing to downplay the slightly odd scent of this beautiful flower, instead adding vanilla to enhance the dense, heady quality.

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The vanilla, once it appears, is quite different from the traditional Guerlain vanilla we experience in Shalimar and Jicky. Ylang & Vanille’s vanilla feels closer to a vanilla bean or extract, rich and pungent, but lacking in sweetness. While the Ylang Ylang feels sumptuous enough to hang in the air like a billowy cloud, the lack of sweetness in the fragrance keeps it from becoming too cloying, or worse, yet another sickly sweet gourmand. The fragrance displays considerable potency for an Eau de Toilette, and this is one of the few Aqua Allegorias which would be overwhelming in a more potent concentration. Similar to several of its sisters in the original 1999 series penned by Mathilde Laurent, this one has been discontinued.

Floral Oriental

Notes: Ylang Ylang, jasmine, carnation and vanilla

 

 

Bond No. 9 – I Love NY for All

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Given my predilection for vintage perfumes, it is not unusual for me to sometimes miss new releases and on occasion entire perfume houses. One such house which had escaped my attention, in part due to the fact that it was not available in my geographic area for sampling, was Bond No. 9. Imagine my joy (as only a fellow perfumista can) of walking into my local Nordstrom one Saturday morning and finding a counter-full of their line-up.

While somewhat daunting to find myself face-to-face with such a comprehensive display of bottle after bottle bearing the iconic Bond No. 9 design, (where to begin??) I decided to start with the obvious. Housed in a black bottle, emblazoned with the well-known I Heart NY symbol, I Love NY For All is to date my favorite of the lot.

Bond No. 9 – I Love NY for All is definitely compelling, a fragrance built around a coffee accord, and what could be more NYC than a rich cup of your favorite brew. I Love NY for All starts off with a spicy floral mix highlighted by citrus which quickly gives way to warm notes of coffee and hazelnut. The juxtaposition is decidedly odd and yet it works somehow, like the woman in your office that can pull off plaid with lace and high heels. As the fragrance unfolds into a velvety base of patchouli and woods, the coffee is sweetened with a hint of vanilla.

Despite the potency of these individual notes, aside from an initial sour sensation, the fragrance overall feels smooth and is extremely wearable. The sillage and lasting power are decent, which is a relief given the fragrance’s price-tag. While this would not be a signature scent for me, I love having it in my collection when I want something really different.

Gourmand

Notes: Bergamot, Lily of the Valley, Pepper, Coffee, Patchouli, Leather, Sandalwood and Vanilla.

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

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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.

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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.

 

Charbert – Ambre

Charbert – Ambre

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One of the challenges of vintage perfumery involves researching brands which have not survived the test of popular sentiment. Every once in a while I will stumble upon a fragrance for which I am unable to get much background on, both in terms of its composition or information on the house that created it. When the fragrance is as unique as Charbert Ambre, it can be especially confounding, as there is no explanation for why this house closed its doors, leaving this unique creation all but lost to time.

According to Nigel Groom’s New Perfume Handbook, Parfums Charbert was founded in 1933 by William Gaxton and Herbert Harris. The firm, which was based in New York, produced both perfumes and cosmetics for the middle market of American consumers. The firm had a trademark drum shaped flacon (see photo at right) which housed many of its perfumes, including Ambre. Ambre was released in 1940 and by all accounts, Charbert ceased operating approximately twenty years later in 1963.

Ambre starts off with a soapy, green opening somewhat reminiscent of Lucien Lelong’s Tailspin. These are not the soapy aldehydes of a Chanel No 5, instead, Ambre’s opening feels like the precious little soaps that one sets out in a guest bathroom to give visitors a sense of luxury. Unlike other “green” openings, Ambre feels neither overly sharp or medicinal, coming across instead as fairly soft and warm. The true beauty of this fragrance however lies in its heart and base, which reveals a warm, vanillic amber, soft and velvety smooth. The base reveals subtle hints of spice and woods, but they serve to round out and deepen the amber, without competing for dominance.

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For those accustomed to bold amber fragrances such as Serge Lutens’s Ambre Sultan or even L’Ambre des Merveilles by Hermes, Charbert’s interpretation may seem somewhat tame. The fragrance features an average sillage and longevity, making it suitable for wear in various situations and occasions. This makes it an amber fragrance uniquely suited to the Spring and Summer months, when this fragrance category can feel a bit stifling. If anyone out there has more background on Charbert, I would love to hear about it.

Amber Oriental

Notes: Green notes, aldehydes, vanilla, amber, spices, resin, woods and musk.

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.