Reviews by Ayala

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    Ayala
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    Vetiver by Guerlain

    This is a vetiver that is seemingly simple and gives vetiver a clean, elegant and citrusy interpretation. But when noticing the unfolding of the different elements it reveals interesting layers of simple yet surprising combinations.

    Citrus in the initial inhale turns into a peppery heart of nutmeg absolute, revealing the magic of this precious spice, which is the most supreme in this type of distillation, just as the freshly grated nuts. Pepper absolute is also present but to a lesser extend – it’s the luxury of nutmeg that is the star of the show.

    A mysterious floral presence is secretly woven into the heart as well. It took me a while to place the jasminoidal floralcy and the almost candy-like fruitiness of orange blossom. It is only there to bond between the otherwise dry and somewhat eccentric notes, and you’ll notice it only if you lend an alert ear to it’s quite song.

    The supporting base notes are of almost equal earthiness to that of vetiver – the infamous preciousness of aged patchouli, alluring as an adventure into closet full of clean woolen shawls. Cured tobacco leaves accentuate the dryness of vetiver, while tonka bean adds sweetness as well as a pipe tobacco suggestion. The base accord and dry down has a suave, elegant presence of palse suede leather and the smoothness of burnished woods along with that sweet and tart earthiness of vetiver that usually shows up only later into its dry down, once all the sharpness has dissipated.

    These notes do not come one after the other in a procession; rather, they are dynamic and interactive, like a group of sea mammals surfacing out of the water for a breath in alternating moments, and at the end of only the vetiver sticks around and continues to play with the patchouli, tonka and tobacco which stays behind to keep it company.

    Despite of its relative simplicity and innocent, almost non-ambitious treatment of vetiver. Vetiver by Guerlain is now a classic. It’s simplicity is both timeless and charming. If you love vetiver, you must try Guerlain’s interpretation. I haven’t tried all the vetiver fragrances there are in the entire world yet, but this won my heart instantly.

    7th December, 2009.

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    Azurée Soleil Eau Fraiche Skinscent by Estée Lauder

    This review is for the body oil - which has a better scent in my opinion; the Eau Fraiche is a little too citrusy at first and a little too musky in the drydown but still a lot of fun:

    This indecisive product swings in between a perfume and a body oil, but to judge by the fact that 1/5 of the bottle was gone only 5 days after Azuree joined my glass clan – I think of it as a body oil. The scent is mild and non-overpowering. Despite its definite presence and unique odour, it does not seem like an improbable act of insanity to wear other fragrance on your wrists while your skin is covered with the glowing aura of this subtle, sensual scent. I was a bit surprised when I smelled it first because it is rather spicy. With all the coconut and gardenia hype, one might grow to expect Azure to be just another fun suntan oil scent. Azure is mostly a woody scent, warmed with allspice and cloves. It has a spicy-sweet and woody-dry, warm presence at first, with less-than-obvious melted-honey-comb top notes. Than it gradually melts into the skin and radiates an aura of warm sand and skin, or shampooed hair heated by direct sun light. The gardenia is very subdued and so are the coconut and myrrh. The overall feeling when wearing Azuree Body Oil after a while is what one would want a sun tan lotion to be: a non-obstrusive complement to one’s skin. And that’s what I love about it.

    The oil is made mostly of silicone (cyclopentasiloxane caprylic/capric triglyceride), it is made friendly and moisturizing with olive oil, macademia nut oil, kukui nut oil, grapeseed oil and wheat germ oil. I believe it's that combination that makes the oil absorb so fast and not feel so oily (like most suntan oils are!). The list of ingredients definitely makes me like this oil more...

    A downside is, though, that all the cinnamic acids and spicy aromas can be a bit tough on the skin. If you have a sensitive skin don’t apply it all over your body – it may result in a burning or itching sensation or irritation to the skin. This is why it would be nice if it came in a more concentrated oil that can be applied discreetly to pulse points, or just a perfume, a-la-Youth Dew Bath Oil.

    Another issue is the price: if (and I repeat: IF) Azuree was a perfume, the price (below $40 CAD the year it came out) would have been very attractive. But, considering the fact that it is a Body Oil, and is meant to cover more skin than a perfume – it goes faster that I wish it would, and so the price is actually not as great as it seems…

    25th July, 2009.

    rating

    Champaca Absolute by Tom Ford

    My impression is still a bit divided when it comes to this new interpretation of champaca in the Tom Ford Private Blends collection. Like Linda Pilkington’s Champaca there is rice-steam and subtlety of tea to it underneath it all, which I find both very suitable and complementary for champaca absolute. Interestingly, from all the rice-steam fragrances I've experienced, this one delivers the feel the best despite the fact that it is not "supposed" to do so (judging by the list of "notes" released by the company); also, there is no synthetically musky dry down to get in the way of enjoying this unusual floral.

    At the same time, it is way fruitier than champaca absolute is, which make the name a bit misleading. Perhaps the flower in full bloom portrays more of this fruitiness, typical of its sister the white magnolia; but the effect takes away from the rarity of this perfume as it brings to mind too many typical fruity florals. Thankfully, this common effect is not dominant and for most of its duration on the skin, Champaca Absolute delivers that rare thing – a subtle big floral. My first thought when wearing Champaca Absolute was - "this is how I would have wanted KenzoAmour to smell", which goes to show you how much of a prettified champaca this one is.

    There is much of the exotic in here, from banana-leaf wrapped steamer rice and tea to the large golden petals of this admirable magnolia, dipping slowly in warm plum wine. The scent lasts well beyond expected, and is only a tad overbearing for a few minutes in the beginning (at the fruity-floral phase). While it does linger on clothes after it departs from the skin – it is actually a pleasant surprise to find it there, like a sweet memory of Malaysian food enjoyed the evening before in candle-light. It is just a little too pretty and little too simplified for champaca, but if that would make the West understand and appreciate champaca more - perhaps it is a good thing.

    I would say it starts off like plum wine (perhaps the Tokaj and davana, which is a boozy smelling type of artemisia), continues into magnolified-fruity champaca with the addition of rice and tea like notes (perhaps this is the starchiness of the candied chestnuts) and boils down to vanilla and a woody amber. It is semi-linear though, as the changes are not that dramatic and it generally keeps its original shape throughout.

    27th May, 2009.

    rating

    Hermèssence Vanille Galante by Hermès

    Easter came early to Hermès this year with the heady Madonna Lilies that bloom from a bottle titled “Vanille Galante”.

    Unlike most of the other Hermessences, which quite clearly answer to their title (except, perhaps, Osmanthe Yunnan) - the vanilla here will not fulfill the craving of the vanillophiles who patiently awaited their dessert after clearing their plate from fresh peppers and a side of lavender.

    Vanille Galante burst into the air like a flower rushing to display its colours from fear of loosing the attention of butterflies. Heady ylang ylang only but supports the main theme here - the infamous Madonna Lily, a symbol of purity and the Virgin Mary. Sliced cantaloupe sprinkled with salt brings to mind a giant Easter egg decorated by calone. Whether or not there is calone in Vanille Galante I cannot tell, but I’d like to think that this molecule found its way to the perfume to complete the picture of an Easter picnic under the sky. It’s the same cantaloupe from Un Jardin Apres la Mousson, just in a lesser dosage.
    And when the vanilla finally makes an appearance it is more woody than dessert like, and perhaps will bring to mind a flavoured liquor rather than vanilla-dotted crème brûlée.
    There is vanilla absolute in the base alright, but overall I would not describe Vanille Galante as a vanilla scent, but as a floral or a floriental at best. The dry down reminds me of Chanel’s Allured - a contrast of computer generated florals against a backdrop of woody vanilla. But Vanille Galante does not feel as artificial, and as with most Jean-Claude Ellena’s scents, this gown has such lightness and airiness about it that it’s easy to wear if it is not exactly your style or preferred colour.

    27th May, 2009.

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    Turtle Vetiver Exercise 1 by LesNez

    Turtle Vetiver started crawling my way in 2008 and didn't make it here via snailmail in 2009. It was a surprise addition to the samples of Manoumalia that I was really hoping to try before the end of the year (it would have made it to my best-of-2008 list but I guess that will need to wait to the next roundup.

    The sample vial was labeled "Exercise 1", so at first I thought that this is not the finished perfume but a first mod in a perfume in progress (it is described on LesNez as "Outlaw Perfume in Progress"). However, as it turns out - Turtle Vetiver is an ever changing Eau de Toilette that Isabelle makes in small batches as contribution to the creative network titled Turtle (I'm still trying to figure out the actual connection to turtles).

    Turtle Vetiver it is an interestingly bold vetiver and already got my attention not just because of the quirky name, but also because it is just in-your-face dirty and gritty vetiver roots before the soiland sand grains have been rinsed off. It opens very shapr and bold, with a certain peppery darkness to it and a coolness that can only be likened to heavy wet sand that is slightly bound by flossy rootlets of seashore plants. Once it settles on the skin it reveals the cool, clean, fresh and soft Haitian vetiver which I can only guess is the main ingredient.


    I'm curious where else will Isabelle Doyen take this vetiver interpretation. There is hardly a lack of vetiver scents on the shelves and I'm always surprised at how original vetiver fragrances can still remain even though there are already so many. I am starting to think that vetiver is like tea... The differences are subtle, but make the world to those who can notice and appreciate them.

    27th May, 2009.

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    Manoumalia by LesNez

    Manoumalia is every bit a steamy, humid floral that intoxicates the senses and evokes faraway locals in a most vivid and genuine manner. It opens with what smells exactly like the houseplant in my lobby that was haunting me last August. It has the same kewda-like sharpness and headiness to it, initially also underlined with some juicy orange blossom and and humid tuberose notes. For some 30 minutes or so, it feels as if tropical flowers' nectar and jungle-leaf sap is mingled with salty sweat; the kind of feeling you get when you work in a hothouse. The initial Dracena fragrans note fades out after the initial blast of tropical steam and turns into a soft, creamy tuberose and ylag ylang that remains subtle and subdued for the remaining of its life on my skin - with soft woody murmurs like the hushing leaves in the jungle at night.

    27th May, 2009.

    rating

    Oeillet by Scent Systems

    Oeillet takes me to times when taking a bath by the candle light was not a luxury but a necessity. Once a week, the “Geyser” was turned on to full-blast to heat up enough water for the entire family of 7 (this is not the natural phenomenon, but the name of an archaic gasoline-operated boiler that had such a tall chimney it looked like a rocket ship). One after the other, we went into the tub tired and dirty (the week was long but Friday seemed even longer with all the hard to get ready for the Sabbath); and we came out purified and rejuvenated.

    Before my bath, I would pick a dozen branches of mountain sage and steep it to make the darkest tea possible to rinse my hair. The tea was so dark it nearly stained the bathtub. And it was so strong it made my hair smell of sage for the next couple of days (when it was rinsed again, but this time with whichever water temperature the tap had to offer).

    Oeillet is dusky, dark, earthy and seductive. It reminds me of rinsing my hair with sage tea on those Friday nights but also more in general the winter life in our electricity deprived village - oil lamps and candles lighting the room and me and my little brother cutting citrus peels into strange shapes and than burning them in the fireplace.

    Oeillet opens juicy and citrusy and with a definite hit of sage, cistus and galbanum absolute that gush out and breathes like drips of blood and wine on earth. Spicy heart of carnation is set against an earthy and musky backdrop of inky patchouli absolute.
    Although oiellet means carnation in French, this is not a simple carnation soliflore. I don’t think of it as a floral perfume either; I would classify it as a herbaceous, spicy oriental. Original and vibrant to the point that it’s hard to believe all these plant essences aren’t real living and breathing animals.

    27th May, 2009.

    rating

    Rose by Scent Systems

    Rose grabs you by the prick of a thorn. “I'm here! Notice me!”. It’s rosier than possible in real life, bigger and greener and sharp with overtly fruit-like a peach punch - to the point that it stops being a rose, and becomes an Indian curry. Or perhaps, an English take on what an Indian curry is all about. Meaning, a pinwheel curried chicken sandwich nibbled in a dark tea lounge while dreaming of an English rose garden in summertime.

    The overripe fruit is intensified with rubbery, boozy opoponax only to be claimed by an earthy undercurrent. Vetiver, patchouli and turmeric are to blame for that effect; and while the imaginary roses shed their petals one by one, earth and curry take over like the sleepiness that follows a heavy meal.

    27th May, 2009.

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    Sweet Lime and Cedar by Jo Malone

    A modern twist in the cologne genre, Sweet Lime and Cedar uses kaffir lime leaf (aka Thai lime), tamarind and cedarwood as the theme. It may have the coolness of a tamarind drink in the alleyways of the souk, but it is more leafy than citrusy and I can’t say that I’m smelling the unmistakable kaffir lime note on its own. Rather, it seems like a Westernized version for those who don’t really care for that particular lime or perhaps find it too weird. The overall impression is of fresh leaves rubbed between the palms, and not particularly citrusy though possessing that type of invigorating freshness. A few moments later, I can sense a foreign note attempting to rise above the others – a gardenia and coconut accord, but a very artificial kind as the one you smell in every-other-celebrity-fragrance and the next one coming up. Thankfully, this phase is very short living and is quickly replaced by a dry pomelo note and a tad of coriander that lead to the longer lasting cedarwood that lingers on and on.

    Colognes usually lose my interest nearly as fast as the initial blast of fresh juicy citrus top notes evaporates from the skin. But those that have cedarwood base seem to not only work well on my skin but also keep my brain stimulated longer without feeling irritated (the synthetic longer living citrus notes do that to me and turn on my skin). I had a similar infatuation with Miller Harris’ Citron Citron and could see myself quenching thirst for an entire summer with one of these at hand. At the same time, I am not particularly convinced that this perfume delivers its Thai cuisine premise and think that if it was carried out more boldly it would have made a truly fascinating perfume.

    27th May, 2009.

    rating

    Dans Tes Bras by Editions de Parfums Frederic Malle

    In Dans tes Bras, Maurice Roucel brings up the unspeakable topic of intimacy. Intimacy is something that is difficult to describe, but easily felt. It's a subtle emotion and a state of mind that occurs when we somehow connect to another person on the deepest level through closeness or proximity. It's one of those strange connections between spirit and matter: looking into someone's eyes and having a glimpse into their soul; being so close you can hear their heartbeat and sense their breath on your skin and breathing in the invisible scent of their skin.

    Seemingly, there is nothing unusual about Dans tes Bras. It is very perfumey at first: violet accord that is both powdery like orris and wet and woody like cassie underlined by noticeable dosage of heliotropin - that vanillic molecule that makes heliotrope smells so sweet, almondy and plasticky all at once.

    It is not until a few hours in that the intimate aspects of Dans tes Bras reveal themselves. At which point, technically speaking the woody base notes (most notably patchouli) are exposed, along with foreign molecules which I’ve never smelled separately and which create the sensation of minerals and salt on hot skin. From a more sentimental point of view, this is the point where Dans tes Bras begins to smell like perfumed skin that has been immaturely washed away in a warm salty ocean, but not completely. Whatever is left on the skin is going to dry out in the hot sand and sun and become only a vague memory of that violet perfume but an even stronger memory of that sunny afternoon on the beach. But if you wait till the morning, you will wake up to remnants of Nag Champa incense smoke that has stuck to your clothes, sheets and everything you've ever possessed.

    27th May, 2009.

    rating

    31 rue Cambon by Chanel

    For some reason, I can never get overly excited about furniture. And when trying to think what is the best visual way to portray 31 Rue Cambon, I cannot stop thinking of neutral coloured furniture. I can admire the architecture of the bottle (magnetic cap maintains the alignment of the mirrored "cc" logo at all times). I can intellectualize about the validity of oakmoss-free chypre and analyze the construction of the fragrance. But as of yet, I remain unaffected, no matter how comfortable or elegant this fragrance may be.

    In the context of the entire collection released back in 2007, 31 Rue Cambon stood out right next to the quirky, nutty unpolished ambrette seeds of No. 18. Back than it reminded me of the understated woody and aldehydic-floral juxtaposition of Bois des Îles. Two years later, I’m still impressed with the first few moments of intrigue, where 31 Rue Cambon smells like how you’d expect a luxury good boutique to smell like (reference: Hermès Poivre Samarkand). For a few moments, the juxtaposition of orris, pepper and vetiver seems equally classy and fresh (in the sense of “new”). But is that really how “the best chypre of thirty years” that would “permanently change the landscape of perfumery” suppose to smell like?

    27th May, 2009.

    rating

    Velvet Gardenia by Tom Ford

    The moment I lifted up the lid of Velvet Gardenia to unveil its fragrance, I was swept into an unfamiliar territory, resting somewhere between dusk and twilight. A perfume simultaneously soft and diffusive like the performance of a soft-focused old-Hollywood starlet. The subtle and demure expressions are delivered by features that were intensified with false lashes and blood-red lipstick.

    Velvet Gardenia will strike a nostalgic chord for anyone familiar with this heady flower; yet not in the least the conventionally pretty gardenia soliflore favoured by the Southern Belle. This gardenia was grown by candle light, deeming it somewhat waxy and distinctively darker and spicier than any other gardenia-themed perfume. Its dusky complexity stems from combining wine-like top notes, the spiciness of ginger lily and the underlining honeyed sweetness of labdanum. There is absolutely nothing tropical about it; it would be useless on the beach but perfect through a blizzard paired with a fur coat.

    27th May, 2009.

    rating

    Byzance by Rochas

    Byzance opens soapy, aldehydic and with a big perfumey blast that characterizes olfactory decade of the 80’s with an obvious wink towards the floral aldehydes of the 20’s. A big tuberose comes through right away with a heady bitter-sweetness and a touch of greens. Underlining base notes of musk and amber make themselves immediately apparent as well. And a spicy yet balsamic warmth of cardamom makes for a slightly exotic opening. It settles into a green yet sweet tuberose for quite some time. The dry down reveals more of the woods as well as vanilla, and sweet berry-like undertones which reminds me of the final dryout of Ivoire. And there is always a sense of sweetness about it – although not as overbearing as the first few moments.

    Byzance interestingly has some characteristics of a chypre (perhaps the juxtaposition of potent florals with greens creates that illusion), but it is not. It is a flamboyant, outgoing floriental.

    I am still trying ot figure out what is the connection to the name though. It does not smell particularly typical of the region or the religious connotations of the Eastern Church. The bottle design is the only point of reference I can see (the circle being reminiscent of that found inside the basilicas in Turkey). It also reminds me of the bottle design of Soir de Paris.

    27th May, 2009.

    rating

    Aqua Allegoria Figue-Iris by Guerlain

    What started up promising – both fig and iris are favourite notes of mine – lead to a disappointment. I was ready to pull out sentences that I was hoping to type out for a long time, such as “the best Guerlain since l’Instant” or “Love at first sniff” or “the first perfect Aqua Allegoria that I actually can wear and not just like from a distance”. I’ll probably have to wait a while longer before standing behind such statements on any Guerlain released since the retirement of Jean-Paul Guerlain.

    Figue Iris opens with sweet but crips fig notes. It’s more of a purple fig than a green one. The iris is there from the start, first crisp and clean, chiming with the fig in a harmony that brings to mind the melancholy of lilacs in early summer rains, and makes me wonder if Fig Iris hasn’t by any chance taken its inspiration from Apres l’Ondee (and do I detect some anise there as well or was it just a ghost in my imagination?). I would have bought that bottle right on the spot if not for the voice of wisdom from within telling me to wait and see at least when do I crave it next before making a purchase.

    A few days later, and sure enough I was there again in front of Figue Iris. Again, this time I went home just with a spritz, which turned out to be a smart thing: Figue Iris turned linear and uninteresting through the base notes, as well as cloying and overly sweet, in a dryout that is nothing short than a mockery of the legendary Guerlinade. Let me just remind you that this is coming from a woman who just loves the Guerlinade and can never get enough of that iris-tonka-vanilla base in all the Guerlain scents. My favourite fig remains Philysykos, and my favourite Iris is yet to be found…

    5th July, 2008.

    rating

    Iris Ganache by Guerlain

    I've read nothing about Iris Ganache before trying it, but apparently the name alone set me up for disappointment. I was really hoping for a creamy, sweet Guerlain iris. What I got was a scrubber that at first reminded me (quite fondly, I may add) of Gaultier Classique and than turned into Angel meets Insolence. A deadly combination. Although not as "in-your-face" as the last powerhouse pair, Iris Ganache was still a scrubber. And I rarely use the term for any perfume: Persistent, cloying, overwhelmingly synthetic and chokingly sweet. I love Guerlain but their latest releases are for the most part a far cry from what they used to be. Even their other iris scent - Iris Fig - which started promising ended up with that persistent modernized Guerlinade that just hammers your nostrils until you can't anymore and must run to the sink to wash it off.

    5th July, 2008.

    rating

    M7 by Yves Saint Laurent

    On my skin, M7 starts boldly oud-y and medicinal in a good way. Uniquely woody and definitely a scent that stands out in comparison to any other mainstream men’s fragrances. It is as close to Arabian oud perfume oils as a department store fragrance ever gotten, and that was before niche fragrances have gained the momentum they have reached today. It lasts at this state for a good 2-4 hours at which point it becomes overly sweet as the synthetic musk base takes over. On my skin this is when it turns into raspberry candy. Inbetween the medicinal agarwood and the sugared raspberry there is a short phase where a mineral note of vetiver emerges, dry and almost salty. Although marketed for men (the infamous full-frontal male nude is unlikely to be forgotten, and perhaps was intended for masking the previous expose of YSL himself in an ad dated 1971). Based on my experience I can only assert the presence of agarwood, vetiver, amber and/or labdanum, musk ands raspberry.

    7th June, 2008.

    rating

    Yvresse / Champagne by Yves Saint Laurent

    vresse opens bubbly and sparkling yet at the same time also powdery and with an underlying dryness that grabs you by surprise. It has the fuzzy texture of unripe peach skin, crisp and for some reason this misleading sensation of being soft while in fact it is rough and sober. The original name Champagne describes it perfectly as it has all the characteristics of the fancy sparkling wine, including the fruitiness and the elegant white-wine dryness.

    And indeed, Yvresse develops like wine, with very subtle changes between the nose and the body being quite subtle. The bubbly, peachy and cool qualities are maintained throughout its life on the skin. And the underlining notes, although a classic chypre accord of oakmoss, vetiver and patchouli are very light and subtle in nature. It is most similar to Chant d’Aromes by Guerlain – a very light, albeit melancholy floral chypre. With its touch of roses and sophisticated soft powder, Yvresse also winks towards another creation by Sophia Grojsman for YSL – Paris. However there is something more original about its overall composition, that makes it different from the other more bold Grojsman perfumes I have experienced – it is just more sheer and lighthearted and romantic without taking itself so seriously.

    7th June, 2008.

    rating

    Opium by Yves Saint Laurent

    I have to admit that my Opium substance abuse is pretty limited to the “Opium Lite” of the summer versions, Fleur de Shanghai being one of my all-time favourite perfumes.
    Opium in its parfum form (which is what I am reviewing here) can be likened to a smoldering smoke of incense and spices and a thick chai tea. It opens with clove buds stuck in the peel of dried orange, familiar like a pomander and intensely so. Pimento berries also add a more complex aspect to the mostly-eugenolic character of the opening; pepper suggests dryness and cinnamon adds sweetness.

    The heart notes are floral, most notably orange blossom and carnation. But to say the heart feels floral would be an exaggeration. Although jasmine, rose and ylang ylang are present, they are hidden behind plenty of carnation and more cloves; the floral notes in this oriental in particular have the role of smoothing things out without sticking out or showing their true colours.

    The underlying resins are what make Opium stand apart from Tabu and Youth Dew though; if Tabu concentrated on the patchouli and vetiver and Youth Dew is all about indole and eugenol (even more civet than in Tabu) – Opium returns to the cradle of perfume civilization by using a large proportion of opoponax with its powdery, animalic and resinous-sweet qualities, backed up by the dry and sweet bitterness of myrrh and the woody-dry qualities of patchouli. There is a touch of sweetness that is never overly done originated in vanilla and benzoin resin. Both notes serve to accentuate the hint of sweetness present in opoponaz and myrrh. There is no animalic element here that I’m aware of. The pairing of eugenol and resins creates a deep reaction, perhaps connected to the history of incense and Chinese herbal medicine which is quite appropriate with the name borrowing from one of the most ancient and potent drugs used in human history (it was used as far back as in the Sumerian civilization, which is also the oldest civilization to have used incense).

    7th June, 2008.

    rating

    Y by Yves Saint Laurent

    If Yvresse reminded me of bubbly whispers of Chant d’Aromes, Y immediately shouts the chant out loud. The similarity here is not in the base notes but rather in peachy top notes and the floral bouquet – the innocent yet intoxicatingly sweet honeysuckle and gardenia. There is also a slap of green aldehydes which give it a dominant, bold entrance which is distinct and at the same time similar to other big-time green aldehydic chypres – there is a reference to Miss Dior and Ma Griffe yet without the intensely animalic base; the brisk sharpness that can be found in Private Collection and it also reminds me somehow of AnaisAnais and Laura Ashley’s No. 1.

    Although it starts off very floral Y turns to be a lot drier than expected as it develops on the skin. The big statements of gardenia and honeysuckle are replaced by a more sophisticated dry and sober disposition. The heart notes reveal a more green and dry aspect of the rose and the hyacinth, anchored by the dry and green notes of vetiver glimpsing from its base. The phase is not as mossy and Chypric as might be expected. There is very little presence if at all of oakmoss not to mention the other notes listed. It is more woody and dry than anything else - almost to the point of becoming leathery. Vetiver and patchouli are in charge for quite sometime, before the dryout arrives with the re-emergence of warmth by way of oakmoss, civet and benzoin.

    7th June, 2008.

    rating

    Un Jardin Après La Mousson by Hermès

    Un Jardin Après la Mousson stroke me at first as yet another peppery-dry Elena scent (similar to recent creations, such as Osmanthe Yunnan, Paprika Brazil and Kelly Caleche). It seemed indistinct in that context for the first 2 seconds. And than came a surprise (well, not quite surprising because earlier reviews of the scent suggested note in that direction; yet still the effect was quite strange): this is neither watermelon nor melon, but rather – a ripe, juicy cantaloupe. Think of what it would smell like if you were just popping a fresh slice of Trident’s Watermelon Twist sugarfree gum into your mouth while spraying Omsanthe Yunnan all over yourself and you’ll understand just exactly what I’m talking about (Alternatively, try Bvlgari’s Eau Parfumee Au The Vert, if you can’t get a hold of Osmanthe Yunnan for this curious experiment).
    Like so many of Elena’s creations, Un Jardin Après la Mousson can be described as sparse, sheer, thin, gauze or veil-like and abstract. If you are not a fan of this style or approach you probably will not enjoy it very much. As much as I try to appreciate scents like that (and grew to be able to enjoy them for my personal use on several occasions), I find it very foreign to me and my flamboyant and dramatic Mediterranean upbringing. Something in me always searches for something deeper at the root of the scent; and in Elena’s perfumes I can’t find that, which results in me feeling like I’m hanging in mid-air like a big question mark awaiting and answer that will never come.

    18th May, 2008.

    rating

    Spanish Moss by Hové Parfumeur

    Spanish Moss is described by Hove Parfumeur as “Warm and exotic, mossy and green... a reformulation of an old favorite” – while it is warm, it is not what I would describe as green. It is sweet, powdery yet with an exotic twist as it includes some notes that are not commonly used in other rosy-powdery perfumes.
    Floral, powdery, sweet and with an antique Victorian feel. If there is moss there, it is well concealed, amongst heaps of flowers, dusting powder and rouge on a cluttered vanity table of a Southern lady who protects her fair skin with endless layers of lace and mousseline. The intensity of flowers and powder is something I’ve smelled before in perfumes that came from the South (Such as from Lagniappe Oakes Perfumery – I’ve tried several of these but I have to admit none captured my heart; they were all from the “Heirloom Collection”).
    The opening is intensely floral, sweet and powdery. I can sense the presence of heliotrope right away, with its bittersweet, almondy-rich melancholy. Other notes that are apparent from the start are lilac, rose, osmanthus and orange blossom. These are all very intense, dense once applied – buy when they settle on the skin they become far more tolerable – yet nonetheless maintain the same character of uber-sweet-powdery Southern vanity.
    Once the florals quiet down a tad, I find myself suddenly sipping icy-cold, sweet lemonade. Or perhaps it is a lemon popsicle… It instantly reminds me of Aunt Eller in Oaklahoma! film, though I don’t know why. I can’t even remember if there was any lemonade in that movie, but for some reason it makes sense. Even though it’s not even close to New Oreleans at all.
    Hours later, I am still searching for that “Spanish Moss” to come out from its hiding, but I can’t say there is anything particularly mossy about this perfume. It is very old fashioned, like a more tropical interpretation of “Lipstick Rose” and also more complex, less simplistic than rosy perfumes of that genre. Besides the heliotrope base, I can smell some bitter myrrh, but that’s as close as I can get to revealing the moss…
    Top notes: Lilac, Lemon
    Heart notes: Rose, Orange Blossom, Osmnathus, Orris
    Base notes: Heliotrope, Myrrh, Vanilla

    17th May, 2008.

    rating

    Deseo by Jennifer Lopez

    Ever since I watched Jennifer Lopez’s mind blowing performance in U-Turn, I’ve been waiting for something like this to happen in her perfume line. I know, this is a rather nive wishful thinking, but we can all dream a little… I don’t know what the future holds for the J. Lo perfume line, but so far the only one I can smell myself wearing is the newest one - Deseo. That is not to say that Deseo is even remotely close to mind blowing in perfume terms. But at least it’s nice to find a fragrance to like bearing the name of such a talented actress (and I do prefer Ms. Lopez acting than her music). However, while Glow was too soapy, Still just not interesting, Miami Glow mouthwateringly artificial (and so were most of the others to follow – Live and the rest of the limited edition sequels for Glow) – Deseo is easily wearable and falls exactly into the fragrance category I would have belong to if I was the typical modern woman of my typical social cross section (which I’m not).

    Deseo joins the growing family of modern chypres, and to me smells like a hybrid between Pure Turquoise and With Love (Hilary Duff). It starts fresh and citrusy, yet not as brisk as Pure Turquoise. It brings forth some milky notes, but is not quite as milky as With Love, as it stirs towards beachy coconut-milk, skin and sand notes. The floral heart is obscure and I can’t say I recognize any particular note, but if you are familiar with star jasmine, this might be the only thing I can somehow relate to that resembles a living flower. Star jasmine is not a true jasmine, and has a fresh, fleeting green-floral note. It is easy to see why it’s getting so popular with recent fragrances released – it’s a white floral sans the drama, i.e. with the indole left out. The underlining notes are not any more articulate than the heart notes – mostly musks and woods of vague origin, yet upon dry down the oakmoss starts to really shine through, which is very encouraging for all of us true chypre lovers who are being fed a non-oakmoss chypre diet for quite some time…

    Judging by the packaging and name (Deseo means desire in Spanish) is meant to symbolize something deeper than it may seem – the bottle being in the shape of a diamond in the rough, and that got to have some deeper meaning in regards to Ms. Lopez’ life story, perhaps even with some implications to other diamonds out there yet to be discovered... What I’m smelling though, is fresh citrus notes of no particular identity, slightly beachy with nice smelling yet nondescript floral bouquet, over woody and and slightly warm and skin like base anchored in moss and salty mineral notes. The base would definitely suit a man very well. It is simple, clean, easy to wear (even more easy to wear than Pure Turquoise), cool yet neither aloof nor distant, fun but not overly beach, serene without being pretentious - and that is precisely what I like about Deseo. After all, any diamond, even a diamond in the rough, is just a cold stone and unless it's adorning a certain piece of jewelry...

    17th May, 2008.

    rating

    Le Petit Prince by Le Petit Prince

    Le Petit Prince was never really a children’s book. Just because it is about a child does not make it for children. Regardless if the book is accompanied by colourful illustrations. I am sure my parents were not the only ones puzzled by the peculiar gap between their astonishment from the book and the complete non-comprehensive gazing they received from me and the too many questions for a bed time story as a response to this book.

    And so, when a disnified collection of perfumes for children inspired by Le Petit Prince came out, accompanied by stuffed animals (sheep, of course), action books colouring books and other cutesy paraphernalia (this is clearly TOO MUCH!) appeared on the olfactory horizon, I was equally eager and terrified to try the line.

    Eager? Well, one must admit, the packaging for Le Petit Prince Eau de Toilette is stunning. It is simple and true to the original illustrations in the book. One would expect a magical, yet somewhat cerebral concoction of baobab trees, star dust and desert winds and perhaps also a bit of motor oil. However, the perfumer for Le Petit Prince decided to go for the safest unisex cliché of a citrus perfume that gives no particular statement except for being an agreeable, pleasant smell. The chosen notes are mainly lemony, and for the most part this alcohol-free concoction smells like sugar-free lemonade. Very pleasant, but it gives nothing new to the imagination and being associated with a book of such importance, this is sacrilege. Let’s just be reminded that another book by the same author served as the inspiration to one of the greatest perfumes of all times, Vol de Nuit. This thought alone makes me shudder.

    Le Petit Prince Eau de Toilette is alcohol free. It is also free of any imaginative thought or creativity (except for that which went into the exquisite packaging). The official notes include citrus, tarragon, lemon verbena, cedarwood and oak. I smell mostly lemon and lemon verbena, which I love. But I can also find these without getting my plane grounded in the desert and insulting the olfactory intelligence of children (who, I am most certain, will be quite open to try some new notes that they are less familiar with).

    17th May, 2008.

    rating

    Wild Thing by Rich Hippie

    After long procrastination, I have finally got my hands on some samples of Rich Hippie’s perfumes, thanks to a kind swapper via MUA. While Utopia left me only slightly uplifted (notes of yuzu do that to you) from my current state; and Nirvana left me bored – Wild Thing was the one to grab my attention, instantly (and no, it was not because of its steep price point). Wild Thing is as close as a natural perfume ever got to Patou’s infamous “Joy” (at its time bearing slogan “the most expensive perfume in the world”). But the two have more in common than their price. They both celebrate the luscious beauty of jasmine and rose. In Wild Thing, there is hardly anything else (a little bit of citrus, and a very subtle orris note). The rose almost gets lost in the bush of sultry, penetrating jasmine. The indole is intoxicating and beautiful. Wild thing is rich (not in a monetary way) but not overpowering kind of floral and while very animalistic it is never repulsively so. Despite the fact that there is no civet at the base to my knowledge (which is what makes Joy parfum slightly “dirty”) – you get a similar vibe from the dry down of Wild Thing – it’s always jasminey and quite long lasting; though I can’t really tell what is it in the base that make it linger so long (no particular note stands out enough to be noticed, aside from the rose and the jasmine; and whatever iris there is there – it is very subtle, which makes me wonder if it is not used merely as a fixative). To the flower girl within me, Wild Thing is pure bliss and thankfully it is not in the least “hippie”.

    17th May, 2008.

    rating

    Sel de Vetiver by Different Company

    The concept of using minerals as a theme in perfume is relatively new. Although there are distinct mineral notes in perfumes such as Aqua Allegoria Pampeloune (Sulfur) and l’Eau d’Issey (Chlorine), the mineral presence in these fragrances was kept hush-hush only to be noticed by the keen noses; Yet the Elena family seems to be taking this concept into a whole different direction, spearheading the elemental or mineral movement in perfumery, with Sel de Vetiver by Celine Elena (Salt) and Terre d’Hermes by Jean-Claude Elena (Flint) and in general by their minimalist approach that is more mineral than organic.

    Sel de Vetiver (Vetiver Salt) from The Different Company meant to evoke the barely-there scent of ocean salt on a sun warmed skin. Although I can understand the salty reference and association with vetiver, warm it is not. Rather, it’s a cool, dusty vetiver with a clean earthy presence. It may recall the gritty, ground-sea-shells sand, salt sticking to driftwood and the rough dryness of skin that was soaked and masked with mud, salt and sulfur for too long. But it does not quite smell like salt or skin.

    Sel de Vetiver opens with an astringent, clean accord of grapefruit, ginger and a hint of cardamom that reminds me roasted dark coffee more than the spice itself. I can smell hints of ylang ylang, but they are not obvious at all, being rather heady and fleeting. Other notes that are mentioned are orris and geranium, but I can’t say I was aware of their presence at any given point. Vetiver and refined patchouli (smells more like a patchouli isolate rather than the full-bodied oil) step in pretty fast and dominate Sel de Vetiver for most of its life on the skin – the sweet, clean scent of these two earthy essences combined.

    Top notes: Grapefruit, Ginger, Cardamom
    Heart notes: Ylang Ylang, Geranium Bourbon, Orris
    Base notes: Vetiver, Patchouli

    17th May, 2008.

    rating

    Biche Dans l'Absinthe by Gobin Daudé

    Doe through the Artemisia bushes… Her coat glows in the warm autumnal sun. Freedom is happiness. And the single notion that being is all there is to life.

    Victoire Gobin-Daudé, a gifted French independent perfumer, who unfortunately whose line was discontinued, unfortunately, uses only natural essences in the five perfumes she released to the world to enjoy for a limited period of time.

    Biche dans l’Absinthe offers yet another perspective to the bittersweetness of green and aromatic fougeres: the pairing of animalic with herbaceous.

    Opening with sweaty notes of cumin and the underlining warmth of immortelle, the doe has just paused from a brisk morning gallop in fields of semi-dry hay. It is mid Autumn, and the first sunrays are warming her shiny coat, releasing steam of animal sweat and morning dew from the surrounding vegetation. Citrus notes play a subtle role of diffusing the bitterness of Artemisia (absinthe) while bergamot creates a soft powdery aura, complementary to the cumin.
    There is a hint of floral in the heart, alongside the Artemisia. It might be orange blossom, or perhaps neroli. It is very subtle and is present only to soften and blend the phases together. The base is at once dry and sweet – with dried tobacco leaves, the abovementioned immortelle and its animalic yet herbaceouse-dry sweetness, and hay of course, for a good measure of coumarin and nourishment for the doe so she can run freely on my skin for hours to come.

    Top notes: Lemon, Cumin, Bergamot, Lemon Leaf
    Heart notes: Artemisia (Absinthe), Neroli, Lavender Absolute
    Base notes: Tobacco, Immortelle Absolute, Hay Absolute

    17th May, 2008.

    rating

    Bois Farine by L'Artisan Parfumeur

    Jean Claude Ellena’s creation of Bois Farine for l’Artisan Parfumeur is said to be inspired by the flower of the “Flour Tree” that is genuine to the Réunion islands. The tree bears red flowers with a distinct floury, starchy aroma. The perfume almost lives up to this premise, commencing with an accord of fennel and white starchy wheat flour going up your nostrils and you knead that dough or visit the local miller to pick up freshly ground flour. It also has an aftertaste of crushed raw peanuts at first – oily and subtly earthy, barely detectable aroma. However, it quickly turns into an iris perfume, slightly floral and sweet with notes of cedar and musk and slightly vanillic underpinnings, not unlike Hiris, which reminded me of certain semolina patties, and not unlike Bvlgari au The Blanc with its underlining heliotrope and white musk sweetness (also by Jean Claude Ellena).

    17th May, 2008.

    rating

    En Avion by Caron

    In the first decades of aviation, when we were all blinded by the glare of heroism and miraculous ascent of human spirit above the clouds, defying gravity and other enemies – aviation has inspired art – including books (Antoine de Saint Exupéry, an aviator, spy and an author, has written several books inspired by the topic). And lastly there are two grand perfumes inspired by aviation – En Avion (Ernest Daltroff, 1932), dedicated to the pioneer female aviators mentioned above – Bolland, Boucher and Bastié; and the infamous Vol de Nuit (Jacques Guerlain, 1933), inspired by the book of the same name by the abovementioned aviator-author, which I have already reviewed on this humble blog.

    En Avion opens dark, like all Caron extraits, and with a certain bittersweetness that does remind me somewhat of Vol de Nuit (though I have to admit, the only reason I compare the two is because of their common theme). While Vol de Nuit is green and sharp, herbaceous at first – En Avion is far more spicy and floral. It starts off soapy and spicy at the same time. Carnation is apparent immediately, but so is orange flower, which smells like an echo of l’Heure Bleue with pilot-hat and goggles… Although Vol de Nuit has the signature powderiness from the classic Guerlinade and iris notes engrained within its structure; En Avion takes powderiness nearly into central stage, and in a far softer and lady-like olfactory context: rose, lilac and violet, and underlined with powdery opoponaxs which almost instantly bring to mind the scent of vintage face powder. As for the base of En Avion, it is redolent of Atlas cedarwood with its suave, polished olfactory-texture, a bittersweetness of tonka bean (again, a reminder of of Vol de Nuit; but let’s not forget that En Avion preceded Vol de Nuit’s launch by a year…). There is, however, a subtle presence of burnished leather at the base, however it is not as animalic or leathery as other Caron creations (i.e.: Narcisse Noir, Tabac Blond), it is almost as soft as suede… If Vol de Nuit is a wild, ambitious woman with restrained emotions and top-notch professionalism; En Avion is not any less ambitious woman that secretly displays her femininity even when boarding an airplane for what might be her last flight ever… Underneath the pilot jumper, she is still wearing silk stockings and laced lingerie.

    According to the Perfume Addicts database, the notes are:
    Top notes: Rose, Neroli, Spicy Orange
    Heart notes: Jasmine, Carnation, Lilac, Violet
    Base notes: Opoponax, Amber, Musk, Wood

    To that I would add that in the top notes I can smell orange blossom rather than neroli (there is a different between the two!), I can't say I'm particularly smelling orange (there is a citrusy freshness, but it is well hidden with all the additional dense notes); and there is definitely a dry allspice note weaved in, as well as cloves and perhaps even a hint of nutmeg. While I can't say I smell much of the lilac (I would have to go back to it once I'm fully recovered from my cold though...), violet and rose have a strong presence, and so is the carnation. The base is neither particularly musky nor ambery; but there is certainly the animalic powderiness of opoponax weaved into a dry tobacco-leather base that might include castoerum, and the woods in question are the beautiful Moroccan cedarwood from the Atlas mountains.

    17th May, 2008.

    rating

    Grand Amour by Annick Goutal

    From the first second I smelled Grand Amour, I knew I could not remain indifferent to this perfume. It reminded me instantly of the bushes of mastic where I used to hide as a little girl: either from friends and siblings while playing hide and seek; or from greater horrors imposed on little children by the adults of the world. The scent of the mastic bushes is unique and unmistakable. And although mastic is not mentioned as a note in this perfume from Annick Goutal – the precise makeup of this particular perfume creates the impression of the scent released from the crushed crisp leaves between little fingers of a child hiding in the dense evergreen bushes.

    The gum or resin from this bush is the same “mastic” which is used to flavour baked sweets and ice creams in the Middle East and Greece (more about this later). The Latin name of this bush is Pistacia Lentiscus, and it is from the pisttachio family. In ancient times it was used to create a chewing substance (mastic is chewing gum in Arabic and Hebrew), and it is also used as a medicine and a spice. A synthetic substance with similar chemical makeup is created especially for the chewing gum industry.

    For those who are unfamiliar with the aroma of mastic, and particularly that of the raw leaves, I would try to describe it as it is in Grand Amour: it is green yet not like grass or leaves, sappy, but not resinous, and with an undercurrent of powdery warmth, while releasing a gently and evenly floral aroma in such manner that no particular flower stands out. It also resembles Chamade in some ways, though I detect none of the galbanum, oakmoss or vanilla notes that are so prominent in Chamade. Perhaps it is the hyacinth, a note that appears in both perfumes.

    When I discovered Grand Amour some two or three years ago at The Bay in Vancouver, I immediately lavished myself in it carelessly in excess that can be only explained by my excitement. I was not able to enjoy it very much, the memory of those evergreen childhood hideaways brought a throat-clenching sensation, like the one that visits us just before bursting into inexplicable, shameful tears. I neglected the fantasy of wearing Grand Amour, but haven’t completely given up. I took a vial with me on my trip to Israel this spring, and decided to wear it in the natural environment and compare it to the live bush. I was right about their similarity. But imagine my surprise when I managed to enjoy the juice for three days straight while staying at my Mom’s place, surrounded by the bushes and the spring blooming greenery. In Hebrew we say “Meshane makom, meshane mazal” which means, that when you change location or place, your luck might change too. So true for perfume.

    This review is for the Eau de Toilette, which is lovely in my opinion except for the fact that it is not extremely long lasting when dabbed. When sprayed the performance is excellent. The official notes (per the Annick Goutal website) are lily, hyacinth, honeysuckle, Turkish rose, amber, musk and myrtle.

    17th May, 2008.

    rating

    He Wood by Dsquared2

    Canada rarely appears in the way of inspiring perfumes. Although plenty of scents are inspired by travel, Canada just isn’t perceived as exotic enough to most to be considered for olfactory inspiration. In the case of DSquared2 He Wood, the Canadian inspiration may not come as much of a surprise. DSquared2 belongs to Ontario-born twins Dan and Dean Caten. Apparently, even their store in Milano has fake snow and Canadiana in doses that won't embarrass a tourist shop on Robson Strasse all over it. DSquared2 is a perfect balance between wetness and woodiness. The two things that are in abundance in Canada, for sure. The wetness comes from a number of sources – namely violet, mimosa and cassie, which together create a somewhat fuzzy, but very wet opening – without feeling the list “aquatic”. Cedar, vetiver and sheer vanilla notes (vanilla CO2 comes to mind) underneath with a clean yet sensual wood accord.

    Surprisingly, He Wood has a distinct “boutique” feel to it without feeling overly done or pretentious. It simultaneously reminds me of a few scents that I’m very fond of: Philosykos (fig and cedar), Mimosa pour Moi (mimosa and vanilla), Verte Violette (violet and a hint of vanilla) and Vetiver Extraordinaire. The idea of combining together all these elements is brilliant and very refreshing without smelling even the list like a male fragrance cliché (many of which we have experienced this year, unfortunately). Plus, I must admit that the idea of getting these four fragrances for the price of one appeals to me on a certain practical level (it will make my accountant happy, for one thing, and save me some space too)...

    28th November, 2007.

    Showing 1 to 30 of 121.

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