Posts filed under 'Perfume Reviews'
It’s the time of year again to ponder, summarize, draw conclusions, and resolve. The year 2007 has been a prolific year in perfumery, as you well know. The perfume bloggers including myself have voiced their opinions aplenty, yet we feel it’s essential to present you with a report of what we think totally rocked, to put it plainly. Overall, 2007 produced some pretty exciting and noteworthy fragrances, even if I didn’t love them all. In my eternal need to organize everything, I’ve come up with a few categories.
Best Representation Of A Note: The Year Of Iris
Infusion d’Iris by Prada
Iris Pallida by L’Artisan Parfumeur
Iris Ganache by Guerlain
Best Fragrance Honoring The Classics
Gucci by Gucci
Tuberose Gardenia by Estee Lauder Private Collection
Ellie D
Les Exclusifs de Chanel
Best Trendsetter Fragrance
Amaze by People of the Labyrinths
Lady Vengeance by Juliette Has A Gun
Noir en Noir, Moss Breches, Tobacco Vanille, Velvet Gardenia by Tom Ford
Stoned by Solange Azagury-Partridge
Narciso Rodriguez for Men
Patchouli Luxe by Comme des Garcons
Best Relaunch
Montaigne by Caron
Best Flanker
Voile de Fleur by Tom Ford
Chanel No 5 Eau Premiere
Please share yours and check out my fellow bloggers for their picks: Bois de Jasmin :: Now Smell This :: Perfume Posse :: Perfume Smellin’ Things :: Scentzilla
December 27th, 2007
I miss blogging. Actually, to be more precise, I miss the times when blogging about perfume was one of the highlights of my day. As you might have noticed (ironically as it might sound considering I’m surrounded by it pretty much daily), perfume has hardly been my top priority. From a proactive, involved enthusiast I’ve turned into a sober, distant observer. I still enjoy perfume and wear it frequently but gone are the days of mad obsessions and insane lemmings. It’s somewhat sad as is often the case with an end of a life stage but it’s also comforting and valid. In other words, to bring this to some sort of a logical conclusion, I’m here to tell you Aromascope is definitely on an indefinite break.
However, today is the day when perfume bloggers unite to share their Top Ten Fall Scents, and I couldn’t miss that, could I? One of the benefits of my waning interest has been an intensified focus on my Holy Grail fragrances, i.e., the ones I can turn to and wear no matter what. Looking back at my fall scents post of last year, I must say this year’s picks are hardly autumnal. Pardon me for not coming up with ten of them but here are the tested and true ones…
Black Orchid Voile de Fleur by Tom Ford - the one and only version of Black Orchid I can wear and adore. Thank goodness for this! Black Orchid is one of those scents that have a very powerful contradictory effect on me - that of absolute simultaneous love and loathing. Voile de Fleur is the perfect relief of such a torment. Basically, all the dirty, aquatic, mushroomy patchouli is gone, and all I get is lush flowers with a hint of leather. What’s not to love?
Iris Poudre by Frederic Malle- not a whole lot to say other than it’s a true classic and perfect for any occasion/mood/weather/you name it.
Mure et Musc Extreme by L’Artisan Parfumeur - a somewhat newly acquired love. A great example of a perfectly blended fragrance, with just enough of everything - citrus, fruitiness, and musk to make it both clean and dirty and so very sultry.
Amaze by People Of The Labyrinths - never ceases to amaze me.
Rose en Noir by Miller Harris - a rare find as it’s only available in London but I was lucky enough to snatch a bottle on eBay. All things rose in one smashing potion - jam, lipstick, petals.
Plus Que Jamais by Guerlain - because I’m still a Guerlain girl at heart (although that part has been a bit dormant lately). I love it more than ever (just had to throw it in there).
To sum it all up: 1) I love rose; 2) I’m more into florals than I’ve ever been before; 3) I’m in a state of utter olfactory contentment.
Please be sure to check the following blogs for their fall favorites:
Bois de Jasmin :: Now Smell This :: Perfume Posse :: Perfume Smellin’ Things :: Scentzilla
October 25th, 2007
I’m not quite back to my normal smelly self yet so this will be a somewhat condensed version of a perfume review. I’m not quite sure yet if I’ll come around at all, considering how it’s been going. There’s also a change coming up in my life that I can’t talk about yet (no, it’s not physiological). While my nose’s taking an open-ended vacation (with occasional sniffs here and there), my need for sensory experiences is compensated by a strong interest in nutrition (eating fat is good, y’all!) See, this is supposed to be a (mini) review, and here I am digressing like there’s no tomorrow. So, perfume. As reported earlier, a Guerlain maniac as myself has been anxiously awaiting the release of Quand Vient La Pluie (”When The First Raindrops Begin To Fall” - such is the translation in the press release), a limited edition fragrance exclusive to Guerlain boutique in Paris and Bergdorf Goodman in New York. I’m happy to report I quite like it, and that’s all I’m going to say. Sigh. Okay. Maybe not. The scent seems more Guerlain-like than the previous two limited editions (Plus Que Jamais and Nuit d’Amour) with its top notes of powdery heliotrope and iris that’s somewhat resembling Iris Ganache. The next stage is sort of sugary orange blossom that makes me a bit uneasy as it seems a bit too sweet. The drydown saves the day (and nose), however: it is fluffy and velvety and crystal-like all at once. I really do like it and wish it could just magically drop on my lap. The price, in case you’re wondering, is $400 for a 7.5 ml refillable bottle of eau de parfum (that also includes a refill of 50 ml), and $2,600 for a 7.5 ml refillable bottle and a whopping 490 ml refill of pure parfum. I’d say go for the latter. You can order it from Jason Beers at Bergdorf Goodman (212-872-2734).
P.S. Back to my slumber I go. Perhaps you can revive me with your new discoveries?
P.P.S. Forgot to mention why the price is so prohibitive: the bottle is frosted Swarovski crystal in the shape of a rain drop (designed by Serge Mansau). Pretty cool.
Image source: corbis.com
September 11th, 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 Fleur de Narcisse in 2006). You might have noticed there’re quite a few iris fragrances released this year which I personally quite welcome as there can never be too many. In my perfume-illiterate years, I sort of assumed all the floral notes used in perfume conveyed the actual scent of the flower they represented. Little did I know it is not so with iris - what we smell is actually the root or the rhizome that’s crushed into powder and treated with alcohol to produce the extract. What I’ve also learned recently (from the Iris Pallida press release) is that it takes three years from planting for the rhizome to reach the right level of maturity, and a further three years are necessary for the olfactory principle of iris to slowly emerge. Plus, several more weeks are required after grinding to distill an essential oil that eventually solidifies (hence the name iris “butter”). All I can say is that I’m in awe of such a process and would love to have me some iris butter. Meanwhile, I cherish my favorite iris perfumes, and Iris Pallida has quickly earned a special spot.
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, Iris Poudre by Frederic Malle). Along came Guerlain’s Bois d’Armenie and Iris Ganache, Cristiano Fissore Cashmere for Men, Iris Nobile by Aqua di Parma, and even Chanel 19, and my iris world had suddenly expanded. I’ve discovered iris can also be quite woody and velvety. Iris Pallida is exactly that. It starts off all sparkling floral, then goes all buttery-fluffy, and finally wraps around you like the softest pashmina. I particularly enjoy the dusty, marshmallowy cedar accord in the drydown. It very much reminds me of Bois d’Armenie, just a little more sheer perhaps. It doesn’t seem to have any sillage (although spraying from a bottle can prove otherwise) and is quite tenacious, even if it does appear a bit muted as it dries down. Of all the exceptional harvest fragrances, it’s probably the most understated and instantly likable.
Iris Pallida features the notes of rose essence, orange blossom absolu, violet leaf, anise, iris absolute, cedar, vetiver, patchouli, guaiac wood, ambrette seed, white musk. It will be available in limited quantities retailing $295 for 100 ml bottle.
Image source: iriscolorado.com, press release.
August 21st, 2007
By Donna Hathaway
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.
In 1989 Inès and Karl Lagerfeld had a falling-out and she left Chanel. This was at least in part because she was chosen to pose as the next “Marianne,” the iconic female symbol of France; it is reported that Karl did not want her to do it. This symbolic title has been accorded to a number of beautiful French women including Catherine Deneuve, so it was quite an honor. She did not model much more after that, and soon started her own company, designing luxury goods and home items such as bedding, and was considered to be a very astute businesswoman. She also designed her own clothing line, and I bemoaned the fact that I would never be able to afford or even wear her designs. They reflected her unerring sense of style, sleek and elegant. In 1990 she married Italian businessman Luigi d’Ursi, who also happened to make regular appearances on the International Best-Dressed List, and they later had two daughters. (He tragically died, suddenly and unexpectedly, in 2006.) I have followed her career as much as I can, considering that she is no longer a recognizable celebrity in America for the younger generations, though she still gets plenty of press in France.
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.
When it arrived I was immediately struck by the quality of the simple packaging and the spare elegance of the heavy frosted bottle. Eagerly I opened it, and took a sniff – wonderful! It was fresh and lovely, with notes of bergamot, aldehydes, and peach to start with, followed by rosewood, ylang-ylang, carnation, and lily of the valley, and eventually drying down to a light sandalwood, accompanied by tonka bean, civet, and benzoin. There is quote a lot of rose in it, as a matter of fact, but it’s a cool, understated rose, ethereal, soft and pastoral, like the wild Eglantine rose in Inès’ long list of middle names. The resulting juice cannot be said to be a “rose perfume” by any means. There is a bit of sparkling sharpness from the carnation that keeps it lively. There is not a whole lot of complexity going on, which is fine in this case, and once the heart notes make their appearance it stays much the same. I am a benzoin fan, and the civet is also welcome, making for a relatively long-lasting composition for its type. I am a peach fan as well, when it’s done right. Those who fear fruity-floral perfumes will not find the usual sugary mess that quickly turns into a wan, watery clone that smells like everything else – this is a quality fragrance. It cannot be called great or masterful, but it is very pleasing indeed.
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.
As a matter of curiosity, I would like to know if anyone out there has tried the other one, from 2004, just called Inès, and recalls where they it was obtained - it comes in a gold and crystal bottle overlaid with an oak leaf pattern on the glass, and has notes of bergamot, neroli, mandarin, rose, peony, iris, patchouli and musk, among other things. I have seen pictures of the bottle in a few places, but not nearly so many as for the one I have. Basenotes.net has it listed, but not the earlier one, which I found odd since they have some very obscure stuff in their database. Also, there is another discrepancy; Basenotes says that black currant is the fruit note in the opening, while OsMoz.com says it’s blackberry. I have no idea which one is correct, but since I love them both it matters not to me. I am starting to wonder if it another phantom perfume, but I would like to try it someday if it still exists. Perhaps there is a story behind its elusiveness. I just have the funny feeling that if I take the plunge and order it, I may just receive another bottle of the one I have and I will have to start over. But if it’s anywhere near as good as its predecessor, I will need a bottle of it in my life someday.
Image source: imaginationperfumery.com, divasthesite.com
August 14th, 2007
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.
P.S. I should also add that I usually don’t click with most Estee Lauder floral scents as they often smell too artificial. White I cannot vouch for how many (if at all) natural ingredients were used in Tuberose Gardenia, I must give kudos to the perfumer for achieving such a credible effect, even if it is 100% synthetic.
Please visit Perfume-Smellin’ Things for Marina’s impressions.
Image source: style.com, neimanmarcus.com
August 12th, 2007
Typically, I judge perfume not only by its olfactory characteristics and lasting power. I also examine its performance: what it does on my skin, where it takes me, how much it opens up, etc. In my perfume pilgrimage, I’ve encountered quite a few exceptional scents that have had but one pesky yet substantial flaw - they failed the performance test. The most recent ones standing in shame with their heads down are the new Kelly Caleche by Hermes and Strip by Agent Provocateur. I don’t think it’d be unfair to say both project rather high expectations. Yet I find myself shaking my head in disapproval and going “tsk-tsk” every time I test them (and believe me, I’ve given them a few chances to redeem themselves).
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.
To sum it all up, I’m still in the state of olfactory ennui. I really hope this passes soon, and the fall season will greet us with truly exciting performance (and action!).
Image source: sybarites.org, agentprovocateur.com
August 7th, 2007
By Tove Solander
Today’s theme is tar. I’ve compared three tar scents – in fact the only tar scents I know of: Comme des Garcons Synthetic Tar, Tauer Perfumes Lonestar Memories and Le Labo Paychouli 24. Only Lonestar Memories has tar listed as a note, although the Comme des Garcons scent has it in the very name. Patchouli 24 is composed of patchouli, styrax, birch and vanilla, along with twenty secret ingredients I assume. Lonestar Memories is known as a leathery scent, but the notes are geranium, carrot seed, clary sage, birchtar, cistus, jasmine, cedar wood, myrrh, tonka, vetiver and sandalwood. Tar, finally, takes a more urban approach with town gas, vapours of bitumen, bergamot, earth, opoponax, styrax, grilled cigarettes and pyrogenic notes.
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.
Image source: luckyscent.com, barneys.com
August 1st, 2007
By Donna Hathaway
I have a confession to make; I am not a big fan of change for its own sake. Just because something can be done does not mean it should be done. Any changes should be clear improvements and not just because someone had a half-baked idea and wanted to foist it on the rest of us. I can’t stand it when my favorite stores get what is called a re-set – they move everything around so I can’t just go in and grab something because I know exactly where it is. Large chain stores are infamous for this, and there seems to be no clear reason for it. Some big national stores require it every couple of years, which of course goes over like a lead balloon with their employees, who must devote many extra hours to relocate everything in the store to “freshen it up” for the supposedly jaded shoppers. This tactic is guaranteed to drive me nuts - and sometimes, to drive me entirely away from shopping there.
I guess this is one reason why I love classic fragrances so much, since they have stood the test of time and need no improvements. That is, until someone decides they need to be “updated” for a new generation of perfume customers. In most cases this is a bad misstep on the part of the manufacturer. Guerlain, Chanel, and others have been caving in to this pressure lately, and I hope it stops before too much damage is done to the originals. (There are other threats to the integrity of the classics as well; along with every other fragrance aficionado I know of, I abhor the new European Union commerce rules requiring complete ingredient labels on perfume and limiting the use of such wonderful natural materials as oakmoss and bergamot in favor of synthetics or cheaper substitutes. I will not go into greater detail here, as many others have rendered their far more expert opinions on this subject.)
One perfume house that has not done a whole lot of this is Caron, one of my top two favorite classic houses. (The other is Jean Patou.) Yes, they have come out with new fragrances, as all houses do, but for the most part they have resisted the idea of bringing out “versions” or “special editions” of their longstanding favorites. For this I am most grateful, as I am sure many perfume lovers are.
I have in front of me two Caron fragrances, classic and modern. Fleurs de Rocaille is a floral creation from 1933. The bottle is instantly recognizable as a vintage Caron flacon, elegant yet sturdy and an excellent indicator of the quality inside. Caron bottles are always classy; the idea of putting one of its products in a vulgar or cheap-looking container is simply unthinkable. The name means “flowers in a rock garden”, and it has a fresh, charming spring-like quality, combining a number of floral notes including rose, violet, jonquil, jasmine and mimosa with cedar, musk and rosewood. I would not say it is a youthful or ingénue fragrance despite this quality; rather it is a perfume meant to be worn by a true Lady. It is not really simple, it is simply free of anything resembling vulgarity.
I located several versions of the original formulation for this perfume and I suspect that it has possibly been redone at some point, or that the notes given by OsMoz.com are incomplete, but it does not smell like a recent introduction at all. There is a cool restfulness to it, due to the violet, mimosa and jonquil, yet there is also a spicy note of carnation, a round richness from the rose, and sharpness from the cedar. Some of the notes seem somewhat disparate, and one wonders how they all work together to create such a fine effect. Since it is a a Caron, of course it works splendidly. This one of those wonderfully seamless floral blends that is greater than the sum of its parts, a quality I admire very much in a fragrance. There is a greenness that somehow bears a resemblance to the cool airiness that stephanotis would lend to a fragrance. There is rose in the opening as well, but it’s hard to isolate, as is the subtle carnation note. The whole thing is subtly brightened by ylang-ylang, and the lively character persists into the dry down due to the presence of cedar. It is highly wearable yet distinctive, and would be appropriate for almost any occasion that I would wish to be a part of.
I recently became reacquainted with this one due to receiving a generously sized sample with a purchase, and I found myself wondering why I did not own a full bottle of this. Of course I want to try all the new things; who doesn’t? I get distracted by the sheer numbers of new releases every year just like everyone else. However, I have learned enough by now to understand that 90% of these will be entirely forgotten in five years (if not sooner), and only a tiny fraction of the surviving ones will ever become enduring classics. Exceptions would be new lines like Frederic Malle and Serge Lutens, whose standards of quality rival the great older houses. If Fleurs de Rocaille were introduced today, it would probably receive positive attention from those who understand perfume, but to the world at large it would most likely be lost in the shuffle of too many new products and not enough marketing. Caron does not purchase flashy ads starring stick figure, six-figure actresses to promote its perfumes. It does not have to. For those to whom these things matter, Caron stands for high quality and tradition, and it does not skimp on either one.
(That being said, Caron did release Miss Rocaille in 2004, in a similar-looking (though bright red) bottle, but it is an entirely different fragrance and should not really be construed as a “version” of the original.)
This brings us to the Caron I wear most often – the modern classic Lady Caron. The flacon has a typical Caron look, elegantly rounded with a sharply faceted stopper, but the design on the glass is a bas-relief image of the head of our own great gift from France, the Statue of Liberty. Ernest Daltroff, master perfumer and the founder of the House of Caron in 1903, had vowed to one day create a fragrance as a tribute to America, as he was a refugee who arrived in Canada in 1939 and then came to the United States, a Russian Jew fleeing the horrors of wartime Europe. He never did make such a perfume, since he never returned to Europe to run the business and died two years after coming to America, but Patrick Alès, the current head of Caron, paid tribute to this vow by unveiling Lady Caron for the first time at the opening of the New York City Caron boutique in 2000. (The creator of this lovely scent was Caron’s in-house perfumer Richard Fraysse, who also brought us the lovely Tubereuse in 2003.)
Lady Caron is recognized by French perfume industry experts as the softest fragrance ever to be introduced to the world by a French house. It has absolutely no sharp edges to it anywhere – wearing it is like being enveloped in cashmere while floating on a cloud. It is not in the least powdery, however, as that would render it too sweet and smothering. It glides serenely in a mist of magnolia, jasmine, neroli and orange blossom. The heart notes are of rose, raspberry and peach, but no, it is most emphatically not a “fruity-floral” either. When I say peach or raspberry, do not think for even a moment that these are the usual notes found in the department store celebrity scents. They are so well integrated into the composition that they are almost invisible, serving only to add a soft shimmer of gentle freshness, and they do not resemble food in any way. The rose is almost certainly Rose de Mai and not damask, as its damp, soft character is only a mere breath, and a perfect complement to round out the other notes. Oakmoss and sandalwood complete this harmonious picture, and they are highly refined and subtle renditions of those essences. Again, this fragrance is a masterpiece of design that transcends its individual ingredients. I cannot imagine not having this wonderful perfume in my life. It is the very essence of femininity, in the best possible sense of the term.
Now, the Lady Caron in my possession was purchased well before the new EU rules were handed down, so I fervently hope that it will not need to be reformulated. It would take a true master to do so successfully, as it is ideally balanced just the way it is. The oakmoss is a great part of what keeps it from being overly sweet, and I really like oakmoss anyway. I can smell that in this fragrance more than I can the sandalwood, and it gives it a good deal of its character. It would be a terrible shame to alter this in the name of conformity. As much as I dislike change for its own sake, I have an even greater aversion to conformity. The EU’s arbitrary “because we said so” rules are destroying some things of great beauty, and that in itself in unforgivable. Let us all hope that these wonderful perfumes can endure well into the future without unnecessary interference.
Image source: The Perfume House, parfumdepub.net
July 24th, 2007
By Tove Solander
When I first tried Diptyque Tam Dao I came to think of Wickle Chestnut & Vetiver, so I thought I’d do a side-by-side test for a smell-alikes post. They scents have no notes in common – for Chestnut & Vetiver I know of no other notes than the two mentioned in the title, and for Tam Dao I’ve seen rosewood, cypress, ambergris, and sandalwood listed.
Closely compared, the two scents have more differences than they have things in common. What made me think of Chestnut & Vetiver when I smelled Tam Dao is a certain boozy, buttery, smooth and somewhat “perfumey” quality. In Tam Dao I suppose it’s the sandalwood, with a little help from the muskiness of ambergris, while in Chestnut & Vetiver it’s the nutty aspect of the scent.
Chestnut & Vetiver is the stronger of the two scents, easily overpowering Tam Dao when smelling them side by side. The boozy and buttery quality is more pronounced in it, strengthened by a toasted or roasted note and perhaps even hints of coffee. It would be entirely gourmandy if it wasn’t for the vetiver, showing its darkest and most earthy and rooty side. The overall effect is perhaps one of wool: soft, warm and cozy but distinct smelling and even a little repulsive in its lack of freshness.
Tam Dao does have a similar warm, smooth feeling, but it’s also much lighter and more transparent. The cypress gives it a hint of green in the top note but not anywhere near the strong, dark vetiver of the other scent. The “perfumey” quality shared by both scents is more pronounced in Tam Dao, mostly due to the sweet, aromatic, vaguely floral rosewood note. It’s also ever so slightly soapy, which I presume is from the ambergris, commonly used to scent soaps. Overall, it’s a more sophisticated take on a boozy, buttery comfort scent, and if Chestnut & Vetiver makes you nauseous in its intensity, Tam Dao might do the trick.
Image source: luxois.com, ticklemywickle.com
July 17th, 2007
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