Slump
So I’ve taken a relaxing vacation, and my August ennui should technically be over but I’m still in a state of olfactory slump. I’m not talking about writer’s block. I’m referring to the worst possible fear of any perfume fanatic – loss of interest. I’m not quite there, don’t worry. I still smell perfumes with (relative) enthusiasm and get (relatively) excited only to have positively nothing to say, most of the time. Please tell me this is temporary. Please assure me in scientific terms it’s some sort of a biological matter (chemical imbalance? smell disorder? dehydration?) that can be easily remedied. Then tell me how exactly it can be done. Has it happened to you? Is it just seasonal? (I’m sure working in a perfume shop doesn’t help as it often leaves me in a state of sensory fatigue). Whatever it is, I want it to go away. Soon.
29 comments August 28th, 2007
Iris Pallida is the upcoming edition in the L’Artisan Parfumeur exceptional harvest collection for the year 2007 (the previous editions were Fleur d’Oranger in 2005, and 
Up until recently, I divided iris based fragrances into two groups: 1) the deep-earthy ones (Bois d’Iris by The Different Company, Hiris by Hermes; 2) the powdery-metallic ones (Iris Silver Mist by Serge Lutens, Dior Homme, 
When Inès Marie Laetitia Eglantine Isabelle de Seignard de la Fressange, known to us mere mortals as simply Inès de la Fressange, burst onto the European fashion scene in the mid-to-late 1970s, she was noticed right away, and within a few short years she was famous just about everywhere as the face of Chanel and the style muse of Karl Lagerfeld. Her face was on every high fashion magazine, and she was quite the runway diva as well. Lanky yet elegant, she seemed more like a “real” woman to me than most of the supermodels of the day – for one thing she was not a blonde and never became one, and I admired her for that – we brunettes have to stick together, because we know we are stunning just the way we are in a world that worships blondes, whether they are real, manufactured or imagined. I say “we” with my tongue firmly planted in my cheek, as she was just about everything I am not; chic, fashionable, tall, gorgeous, graceful, and the list goes on. I had quite the girl-crush on her for years, as we were close in age and she had a sparkling intelligence about her that shone through all the glamour and glitter of her profession. I just wanted to be her more than any famous person since Sophia Loren. (You can’t say I don’t aim high!) I was somewhat disappointed that she also became the face for Chanel’s Coco fragrance, as I never did care for it all that much – it’s nice but nothing very special to my nose, and just not my style at all. However, I always enjoyed seeing her in the ads for it.
A couple of years ago I discovered that I could fit into one of her creations after all – she had released a fragrance! More than one, as it turned out; the eponymous one available today is from 1999; there was another one in 2004 called simply “Inès” that seems to have disappeared, and I have been unable to learn much of anything about it. Online perfume merchants sometimes show both bottle styles, but the description of the fragrance is virtually always for the 1999 perfume’s notes. The latter one sounds even better from the description on OsMoz.com (it has peony in it, which is her favorite flower, and was created by Alberto Morillas), so I hope I find it someday. As a matter of fact, the site I got mine from had a picture of the wrong bottle, so obviously there is confusion all around. Anyway, I stumbled over it on an online discount site, and after seeing the description I thought it sounded very promising. I do not like to buy perfume unsniffed, but I figured hey, we’re talking about Inès here, she would never put her name on something cheap and trashy, right? So after some deliberation I ordered the smaller 50 ml bottle of the Eau de Parfum of Inès de la Fressange.
It is only made in an eau de parfum, which is fine, since an eau de toilette of this formulation would probably be quite fleeting, but I like it enough to wish there were a parfum or even a perfumed body cream in the line. I am unable to determine for sure if it still in production, as I only see it at discount outlets, but some perfumes hang around for years once they leave the department store displays, so that does not necessarily mean it’s gone for good. Just in case, I bought the 100 ml bottle the last time. It has become one of my default hot weather fragrances, jostling for position with my other standby, Mariella Burani’s Amuleti, as it is always fresh and never intrusive, standing up to heat and humidity like a diva under the lights, which is only fitting. Her namesake should be very proud.
If this dress by Roberto Cavalli (Fall 2007 Ready-To-Wear collection) were a perfume, it’d undoubtedly be Private Collection Tuberose Gardenia by Estee Lauder. (I often turn to fashion when in search for visual equivalents, as you might have noticed, more so than art, simply because fashion has always been my preferred venue, albeit not chosen as career). You might wonder how this seemingly simple attire translates into a seemingly heady white floral with such prominent notes as tuberose and gardenia. The answer is in the overall effect: seamless, chic, and silky-smooth. Tuberose Gardenia flows like silk, clings like silk, and shimmers like silk. It is of pearly color with golden hues. This is as poetic as I can get, and if you asked me for a down-to-earth, judicious opinion, I’d say Tuberose Gardenia is the best new fragrance release in the past several months and is definitely a highlight of my fragrant summer.
The scent is said to be inspired by the 1973 release of Private Collection, an exclusive Estee Lauder perfume created for herself and closest friends. Tuberose Gardenia is an entirely new scent, a sort of modern response to the idea of exclusivity – it’s outstanding, well-developed, and available to the general public, although with limited distribution. It’s an intoxicating bouquet of white flowers – a perfume genre I highly respect, yet often shun (perhaps I’m yet to reach a floral stage, who knows). What I love most about it is its finesse: the notes are blended impeccably. It’s a seemingly straightforward tuberose-gardenia fragrance, with more emphasis on green, stemmy tuberose upon first application, and a lush, creamy gardenia drydown. Yet the bouquet also embraces such notes as neroli, lilac, rosewood, orange blossom, jasmine, white lily, carnation, and bourbon vanilla, and this is where the seamlessness of the composition is almost palpable. It is most decidedly a bouquet, where you can capture all the flowers individually as well as inhale its harmony. Its tenacity is never boring or cumbersome. I simply admire this gorgeous, timeless blend.
Kelly Caleche. First of all, named after the Kelly bag and said to smell of leather. Secondly, a Caleche. Thirdly, Jean-Claude Ellena. The result: a beautiful scent, with a lush, almost fruity beginning, and smooth, creamy, floral heart (built around the notes of iris, lily of the valley, mimosa, tuberose, climbing rose). The drydown is rather disappointing: it smells simultaneously like Rose Ikebana from the Hermessence collection, with some hints of Jardin Sur Le Nil, and even Terre d’Hermes. All of these are nice scents, no doubt. But do I want to smell them again, in a brand new creation? I’d rather not. Thus, Kelly Caleche flunks the performance test on my skin – it doesn’t deliver what it promises. That also includes a complete lack of leather. At some point, in top notes, I get a faint hint of it but it’s more like a ghost hovering around in bewilderment, wondering why on earth did they kill him off.
With Strip, the situation is almost ironic. I mean, come on, the name is all about performance, right? Yet Agent Provocateur hasn’t played the game quite right this time. The scent is supposedly built around all the base notes of the popular Agent Provocateur perfume – ylang-ylang, iris, geranium, hot amber oils, vetiver, precious exotic woods, and musks “that react to your body temperature and exude from your skin to release the sexual attractant within” (agentprovocateur.com). Um, how do I say this nicely… let’s just say it did none of such things to me. When I first sprayed it on, I got soft, warm amber with a slightly dirty accord, and at that point it did get me euphoric. And then it just sort of stopped. As in, pretty much vanished from my skin. I kept waiting for some intensity (come on, Strip!), some boudoiresque action, some performance, after all. Alas, it was all but a tease without the strip part.
In case you’ve noticed my partial absence lately, I’m here to tell you that I’m doing fine and smelling nice. I will, however, be rather absent now and then during this month. I want to pretend I’m in France and close shop for the entire month of August and go on some beach vacation but, alas, such is not my reality. There is a short vacation in my near future but it will be spent in the dark and mysterious woods of northern Minnesota (that also includes a beautiful lake!). So to give you the heads up, I’ll be in and out and hope to get back on my regular posting schedule come September (with all the exciting new releases this fall, it shouldn’t be a problem). Have a wonderful rest of summer!
What they all have in common, apart from smelling like tar, is that they’re on the sweet side. I guess tar has a rather sweet aroma naturally, but I could easily imagine a more butch take on it. In fact, there might be one – Comme des Garcons Synthetic Garage has hints of tar along with gasoline, chrome and faux leather car interior, without the sweetness. Tar, on the other hand, has hints of gasoline and asphalt so they’re really sister scents. Compared to Lonestar Memories and Patchouli 24 it comes off as very urban, very minimalist, very cool. The sweetness in it is almost the sweetness of anise or liquorice, as opposed to the more syrupy and vanillic sweetness of the other two. However, it’s mostly compared to them it comes off as so very urban and modern. Compared to the rest of the Synthetic series it feels rural, nostalgic, even cosy. Occasionally, I get a feeling of walking in a sunny pine forest rather than a metropolis.
Lonestar Memories is even more rural and nostalgic in feeling. It’s simultaneously sweet, thick and dry. I get a feeling of cracked, grey wood, so old it hardly has a wood scent anymore, and of dirt floors too dry and worn to smell other than dusty. It’s like being in an old boathouse or workshop – there’s the sweetish smell of hemp rope, perhaps some hardened leather gear oiled long ago, and dust speckles in the sunlight that shines in between the boards. The rich, musty sweetness makes it more of a summery childhood scent than a macho cowboy scent for me.
Patchouli 24 is, I think, my least favourite. It’s smokier than the other two, and I usually like smoky, but it’s also the sweetest of them all, and sugared smoke tends to get a bit nauseating. Rather than asphalt or boats, I’m thinking of barbecue. Barbecue with lots of crème brulée for dessert. Maybe even a steak drenched in custard, at its worst. It’s a viscous scent, like syrup so thick and dark it’s almost black. With less vanilla, it could have been the pleasant scent of a wood pile burning, but with the vanilla it’s just too much. I like it best when it’s a faded smoky-sweet trace on my skin.