Les Néréides – Patchouli Antique

Les Néréides – Patchouli Antique

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Perfumistas are nothing if not passionate. After all, it takes considerable dedication to be a perfume collector, especially when your beloved fragrances are niche or worse – discontinued. While each certainly possesses her favorite scent or fragrance genre, there are those notes which are certain to provoke impassioned responses.

Patchouli is among the more polarizing scents. It offends on a wide range – those who dislike its sharp medicinal qualities, as well as those who cannot escape its hippie era associations. For those of us who adore patchouli however it is often these very qualities we find irresistible. While some fragrances use patchouli sparingly to impart a woody, slightly dusty quality to balance a fragrance, Patchouli Antique is more a study in patchouli.

Patchouli Antique starts off with a slightly green medicinal tang, the perfect introduction to the rich, woody warmth of patchouli. The aptly named Patchouli Antique calls to mind the deep aroma of damp earth and musky dustiness, not unlike unearthing a treasure trove of antique books in a dark attic.

The fragrance softens and mellows like a warm wooly shawl thanks to a hint of vanilla and musk, which play perfectly on patchouli’s hints of chocolate. Truth be told, I am personally not a fan of vanilla in fragrances but in the case of Patchouli Antique it serves to smooth over the slightly bitter herbal beginning in a manner reminiscent of Shalimar, rendering the fragrances as warm and enveloping as a soft robe.

When compared with Chanel’s Coromandel or Serge Luten’s Borneo 1834, both of which are patchouli powerhouses, Patchouli Antique is more one-dimensional. It is a fairly close rendition of the type of high quality patchouli oil you can find in a specialty store, but with a calming, powdery warmth in the final notes.

Notes: Patchouli, Vanilla, Musk

Nina Ricci – Farouche

Nina Ricci – Farouche

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The Nina Ricci fragrance line is one that I did not traditionally have much exposure to growing up, as none of the women in my family wore it. I did have a distant aunt who sometimes wore L’Air du Temps, but we’ll save that for another post. No wonder then that the house’s 1973 release Farouche failed to catch my attention until now (there were after all plenty of other fragrances to keep me busy).

I recently purchased an assortment of vintage perfume minis, and one fragrance included in the assortment was Nina Ricci’s Farouche in the Eau de Toilette concentration. While I have a decent knowledge of French, I will admit that I was not familiar with the word “Farouche”. Interestingly, I did not look it up until after I had tested the fragrance several times, fearing it might skew my impression. In that vein, I will keep its meaning silent until the end of the post.

Farouche opens with some fizzy aldehydes adding lift to a soft orange and galbanum melange. While galbanum fragrances generally make weak in the knees, Farouche comes on like a whisper. The heart unfolds to a gentle floral bouquet of jasmine, lily-of-the-valley and geranium, to which iris lends a hint of powder, While carnation and clary sage add a bit of a twist, Farouche’s overall character remains moderate. The fragrance wafts up again after a about an hour or so, revealing a mossy, vetiver base, reminiscent of classics such as Ma Griffe, but executed with a subtle hand.

In fact, my main issue with Farouche was its faint presence, which made an otherwise lovely fragrance with all of the hallmarks of a classic, slightly forgettable in the face of other mossy, green giants. That being said, this lightness of character would make it a perfect scent for someone just starting to explore the genre, as it touches on all of the aspects of a mossy green floral. I can only imagine how lovely the parfum concentration must be, though I have heard that is subtle as well. The Eau de Toilette bottle is lovely, with its slender neck is reminiscent of a swan, while the flacon for the parfum (reportedly made by Lalique) resembles a heart.

And in case you are still wondering (and have not searched for it yourself), Farouche translates as shy. Perfect.

Floral Aldehyde

Notes: Aldehydes, Mandarin, Bergamot, Galbanum, Peach, Honeysuckle, Carnation, Iris, Lily, Clary Sage, Jasmine, Lily-of-the-Valley, Rose, Geranium, Cardamom, Sandalwood, Amber, Musk, Oakmoss, Vetiver.

 

Serge Lutens – Sa Majesté La Rose

Serge Lutens – Sa Majesté La Rose
Sa Majeste la RoseFragrances are, for the most part, an exercise in artifice: by combining a series of notes, perfumers are able to weave together a cohesive scent that evolves over time. At times, the notes work in harmony to create complementary accords or impressions, while other fragrances charm us with seemingly incongruous themes that somehow work together beautifully (think Missoni Eau de Parfum, with its alternating layers of fruit and chocolate).

While Serge Lutens is a master of olfactory tales, Sa Majesté La Rose is a distinct departure from his standard fare. Instead of an opulent romance of exotic, far away lands, the fragrance is a perfect illusion, a realistic study of the majestic rose for which it is named.

Sa Majesté La Rose opens with a pert, slightly spicy rose tinged with a hint of fruity liqueur. While it possess a fuller, richer body, at the opening it is not unlike Rose by Caron. As the fragrance progresses however it takes on a subtle complexity that reveals just how multi-faceted a rose can be. Sa Majesté softens into a warm, slightly smoky rose with hints of honeyed camomile. It is somewhat astonishing in its realism and yet it is never tiresome.

Red Rose Bouquet

In fact, Sa Majesté La Rose reminds me of walking into a room and witnessing a bouquet of roses unfolding over the course of the day. Starting out slightly tart in the morning when first placed into the vase and sharing the opulence of its scented gifts in the evening as the soft, velvety petals unfold.

While Sa Majesté possesses enough character to be worn on its own, it makes a delicious fragrance for layering, adding a rosy fullness to whatever it comes into contact with. It lends itself especially well to layering with other fragrances in the Serge Lutens line. One of my personal favorite combinations is with Muscs Khublai Khan, with Sa Majesté enhancing the subtle rose qualities of Muscs. While the combination may sound like an olfactory overdose, the meeting of these two powerhouses has the effect of tempering the more extreme aspects of each, much like a successful romance brings out the best in us.

Notes: Moroccan Rose Absolute, Gaiac Wood, Clove, White Honey, Musk

Robert Piguet – Baghari

Robert Piguet – Baghari

Woman in Fur

While we often have a mental picture of the 1950s as a time of feminine restraint, the fragrances of that era paint a different picture altogether. Perhaps due to the fact that woman essentially inhabited a different sphere than men, far away from stuffy office corridors with their recycled air, their perfumes seemed to have some lifeblood in them. Even the airy aldehydic florals had something hefty lurking within to give them a backbone.

When Francis Fabron’s vintage Baghari walks into a room, she commands attention. The opening aldehydes have a kick to them, as they heave rather than sparkle. The waxy, tallow-like opening has an orange-amber richness similar to Caron’s Nocturnes and Givenchy’s L’Interdit, interestingly another fragrance created by Fabron.

Baghari Robert Piguet

The opening is suggestive of the animalic undercurrent of the fragrance to follow, and while Baghari reveals a bosomy floral bouquet, it shares a complexity with Piguet’s Bandit by Germaine Cellier – the hint of something beneath the surface.

The fragrance, like others of its time, is remarkably well-constructed and gives an impression of roundness and depth, like an embrace from an old friend on a cold night, the scent of her fur tinged with perfume and smoke to create a scent that is more than the sum of its parts, the scent of a woman.

Baghari was reformulated by Aurélien Guichard and while the fragrance is suggestive of the original Baghari, it lacks its driving force and personality. Still, it makes a lovely daytime companion for stuffy office corridors.

Notes: Aldehydes, Bergamot, Citrus, Rose, Lilac, Ylang-Ylang, Lily of the Valley, Jasmine, Vetiver, Benzoin, Musk, Amber, Vanilla.

Caron – Bellodgia

Caron – Bellodgia

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There are certain fragrances which are like a revelation for us, sending our senses reeling as our minds attempt to catalogue all of the myriad impressions they inspire. Bellodgia, created in 1927 by the perfumer Ernest Daltroff, the nose behind such classics as Tabac Blond and Nuit de Noel, is truly revolutionary. While it is often referred to as a study of carnation in all of its spicy glory, and meant to invoke all the beauty of the lovely, sunny seaside town of Bellagio, Italy, Bellodgia’s beauty runs much deeper.

The carnation certainly takes center stage during the opening, and its vibrancy nearly blinds us to the other important figures arranging themselves onstage. The piquant spice of the carnation and lily of the valley is enhanced by a smoky facet with such intensity that it reminds me of the charcoal trail fireworks leave behind. The carnation begins to smolder with the spice of clove, which melts and softens into a creamy, powdery cloud.

In fact, this combination of carnation and clove works so well that it found its way into another incredibly successful fragrance which I shall post about soon. For those few of you fortunate enough to have smelled Guerlain’s Bouquet de Faunes, the clove in Bellodgia takes on a similar character, miles away from its interpretation in Diptyque’s L’Eau.

While with its exotic name, Bellodgia is meant to transport us to summery climes, for me Bellodgia is all about winter. It possesses a deep and embracing character which feels perfect with cashmere and thick, plush scarves and while I can imagine it being worn by elegant women with fur stoles and opera length gloves, it just as beautifully dresses up a pair of blue jeans.

Bellagio Italy

Unlike some of the other vintage Carons, the vintage extrait version of Bellodgia can be found online for a reasonable price. If you are a carnation or clove lover, the vintage is worth seeking out. Unfortunately, I cannot much recommend the modern reformulation which is dissimilar to the original, due in great part to restrictions on many of the original ingredients.

Notes: Carnation, Rose, Jasmine, Violet, Lily of the Valley, Clove, Sandalwood, Vanilla, Musk.   

Clinique – Aromatics Elixir

Clinique – Aromatics Elixir

aromatics elixir limited edition bottle

Aromatics Elixir 2011 Limited Edition Flacon

Perfumistas are nothing if not passionate. Researching fragrances and scouring stores and the internet for treasure requires dedication and persistence. As we all know, negative passions can be equally strong, if not more so, and many perfume boards are filled with rants against one or another fragrance.

With its bold lemony opening and bitter, slightly medicinal herbal quality, Aromatics Elixir is often the subject of vitriol. Its minimalist flacon and sunny packaging are somewhat misleading, as this elixir has deep and dark undercurrents. This 1971 creation by the masterful Bertrand Chant is clearly a product of its times with its emphasis on earthy oakmoss and patchouli, though its potent sillage seems to foreshadow the oversized perfumes of the 1980s.

And yet, smelled today, Aromatics Elixir feels new and compelling. Where fragrance after fragrance in today’s market copy Angel’s groundbreaking patchouli theme to play out variations of the sweet, fluffy gourmand, Aromatics Elixir seems austere and intelligent – a sort of bookish brunette. The fragrance delivers a bit of everything: citrus, florals, herbs and woods and yet is so masterfully blended as to create a seamless impression. If some creations shower their wearer in a veil of scent, Aromatics Elixir wraps them in a thick tapestry.

aromatics elixir

While the opening is bold and brash, as the fragrance starts to unfold, the more subtle interplay of rose and patchouli become apparent and this is where love strikes. The volume comes down to more muted tones, allowing the beauty of patchouli-tinged woods to shine through.  While many complain of the fragrance’s volume, Aromatics Elixir maintains a crisp, dry quality that prevents the patchouli from becoming overly earthy and heavy. Indeed, it is a wonder how Bertrand Chant was able to create a fragrance that is at once both supremely rich and yet light. 

The bottle shown above was a limited edition issued in 2011 to commemorate the fragrance’s 40th birthday. For those not brave enough to try the original, an update called Aromatics Elixir Perfumer’s Reserve was issued which focused on modernizing (and lightening) the original. For what constitutes a reasonably priced fragrance in today’s market, the quality of materials seems superb – perhaps a byproduct of the simple packaging and minimal marketing.

Notes: Rose, Chamomile, Oakmoss, Jasmine, Lily of the Valley, Ylang Ylang, Patchouli, Musk, Amber, Sandalwood.

Guerlain – Vol de Nuit

Guerlain – Vol de Nuit

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I am not a big believer in New Year’s resolutions. If one has positive changes to implement in one’s life, why wait until the dawn of a new year to start doing so? That said, I am a proponent of focusing on new year’s intentions – those visions and dreams which we want to manifest over the coming twelve months. Being a lover of travel, my mind naturally starts focusing on where the next twelve months can take me.

In addition to poring over photographs of dream destinations,  I love wearing fragrances which take me away to foreign locales, even if I am sitting nowhere more glamorous than my desk at work. One of the fragrances I find myself reaching for most during my intention setting is Guerlain’s Vol de Nuit, or Night Flight in English. This 1933 fragrance is Jacques Guerlain’s tribute to Antoine Saint Exupery’s novel by the same name and is yet another link in a long line of masterpieces.

While Saint Exupery’s tale is a memorial to the dangerous and sometimes tragic missions of early airmail pilots flying through the night to deliver their charges, Vol de Nuit celebrates the romance of air travel, in typical Guerlain fashion. From the elegant flacon with propeller-inspired relief to the distinctive zebra-print box, Vol de Nuit is the embodiment of elegance and adventure. Air travel is something that we largely take for granted in modern society, so it is incredible to imagine a time when this was a rare luxury reserved for the elite. The first commercial flights, which took place nearly a hundred years ago were much planned and greatly publicized. People fortunate enough to board a plane took the travel itself as a momentous occasion, and did not neglect to dress the part.

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Guerlain’s Vol de Nuit suggests this world of decadence and luxury, evident in the rich materials of the vintage formulation which are of superb caliber. The fragrance possesses a highly unique character, evoking a sense of otherworldliness and wonder which I associate with exploration. When compared with other vintage Guerlains, including its predecessors L’Heure Bleue and Mitsouko, Vol de Nuit has a subtle masculine (and dare I say rebellious) edge, not unlike the androgyny found in Caron’s Tabac Blonde.  

Indeed the fragrance is a delicious balance of bitter citrus and deep green notes which part the skies to reveal a warm, woody base set atop the famous Guerlinade. Shining throughout like the gleaming wings of a plane is one of the loveliest examples of galbanum I have ever encountered in a fragrance, on par with the beauty and bite of vintage Chanel 19.

While the fragrances are very dis-similar in scent, I cannot help but draw comparisons between Vol de Nuit and Guerlain’s own Bouquet de Faunes for the darkness of character. While many fragrances today are formulated to be light, casual and pretty, Vol de Nuit suggests a depth and mystery very akin to its name, and is among the more “intellectual” of the old Guerlains. If you are a lover of vintage Guerlains or of galbanum, I highly suggest seeking this out – as the current formulation (updated due to restrictions on materials) unfortunately do not do this justice.

 Notes: Bergamot, Petitgrain, Galbanum, Lemon, Jonquil, Vanilla, Oakmoss, Sandalwood, Iris, Musk.

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Serge Lutens – Fourreau Noir

Serge Lutens – Fourreau Noir

Lavender is a top contender for my favorite note status. It is comforting and bracing all at once – a reminder to slow down, and an inspiration to keep going. The scent of lavender has been traditionally used in aromatherapy for relaxation, and it is easy to understand why. One whiff and my mind immediately drifts off to visions of lavender fields in the South of France, where row upon row of the dusky, green-grey stalks wave their lovely purple buds in the wind, imbuing the region with the magical scent of summertime. Lavender is the scent of freshly scrubbed faces and hair and clean sheets drying in the sunshine.

With all of these associations in mind, I was completely unprepared for the treatment of lavender in Fourreau Noir, which translates from the French as “black sheath”. Black indeed, and sharp as a knife. While in my mind Lutens had already created the quintessential lavender fragrance with his 2006 Gris Clair, he revisited the lavender theme in 2009 and turned it on its head.

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Fourreau Noir starts out with an sharp, almost metallic citrus note which explodes into an intense, slightly medicinal lavender, but there is no hint of summertime freshness to be found anywhere in this bottle. Instead, Lutens and Sheldrake manage to make lavender come alive with the warmth, and dare I say fur, of a living creature. The extreme lavender opening softens and blurs out of focus with the introduction of tonka and coumarin, lending a sweet warmth to the lavender note that I love on some days and cannot wrap my mind around on others.

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Fourreau Noir is a perfect cold-weather scent when the balsamic syrup of the dry-down feels warm and smooth rather than cloying. Indeed, this is one of those fragrances that seems larger than life in the heat and humidity, but is as soft and tame as a kitten in the winter. While I spend the warmer months of the year looking forward to wrapping myself in oriental fragrances, Fourreau Noir offers the depth of this genre, while hinting of warmer days to come. This one takes the prize for the most ingenious and unusual treatments of lavender.

A special thanks to Barney’s for the sample.

Fougère

Notes: Lavender, Tonka, Musk, Almonds, Smoke

 

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.

 

Etat Libre d’Orange

Etat Libre d’Orange – Jasmin et Cigarette

jasmine_et_cigarette_spray_50ml

It’s thrilling when a perfume unexpectedly captures our attention and makes us feel we cannot live without it. Whether it becomes an impulse buy or a carefully meditated purchase after spritzing through several decants, certain fragrances simply become part of us. What then for those fragrances which we eagerly anticipate, certain that they are destined to be love at first sniff, only to leave us indifferent or worse, running for the nearest sink?

Since I find jasmine an irresistable note, I had held out immense hope for Jasmin et Cigarette, released by the funky niche house Etat Libre in 2006. And in the way only a former smoker can truly know, there is something delicious about the smell of perfume intermingling with tobacco, forming a sort of third skin scent. And yet Jasmin et Cigarette left me completely flat.

The opening has a nice whiff of tobacco, which dies down to reveal a light, apricot-tinged jasmine which never ventures into the indolic territory (which is quite frankly the main reason I love jasmine, for that slight tinge of decay). I sniffed and waited for the curls of smoke (or at least tobacco) to waft up to my nose, but they never came. A bit of cherry smell from the tonka, but nothing more. I put my sample away for 6 months and tried again. Light jasmine, imperceptible smoke. Another six months – and yet my wait was in vain. Perhaps I have been ruined by the extremes of my collection, by the likes of A La Nuit and Guerlain’s Cuir de Russie.

For those of you who favor light florals and are looking for something with a light twist, this may be for you. As far as I am concerned, I am already planning my next love at first sniff.

Notes: Jasmin Absolut, Tobacco, Apricot, Tonka, Hay, Cedar, Amber, Musk