Fragrance Reviews by Ayala

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…

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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?

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.

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.

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…

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.

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).

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.

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.

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.

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.

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”.

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

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

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).

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

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.

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.

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...

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).

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)...

Perfume transcends the intangible mystery of time. And just like the presence of the mysterious time traveler, it enters our life suddenly and disappears without warning. Perhaps this was why when I saw her I smelled a phantom breath of Bois des Îles: a perfume that silently entered my consciousness and whose beauty I was unable to appreciate years ago because of its antiquated aldehydic moments and the vagueness of its intentions.

Years later, my reflections on Bois des Îles have been refined and clarity is starting to bring me more pleasure from this jus treasured within the crystal cut flacon. Without taking away from its mystery I can enjoy it and indulge in discerning the notes as they lazily dance on my skin. First come bergamot and aldehydes, which take some time to fade away. They are oily and bring to mind the somewhat uric aspect of sandalwood, and the somewhat sharp (at first) nuances of heady ylang ylang. As the aldehydic cloud settles, Bois des Îles becomes deliciously warm, with the spiciness of dry ginger and nutmeg. Sandalwood embraces the perfume throughout its evolution. Although there are floral notes in the heart (namely jasmine and rose), ylang ylang is the only one that truly stands out. The others are blended to complement the sandalwood and ylang ylang (smoothing and rounding its sharpness) and bridge from top to base and the crisp-woody notes of vetiver. And in the final movement choreographed on my skin, the sweetness of vanilla absolute, tonka and benzoin feels like a silky caress of soft lips and warm sand.

The EDP and the solid perfume are quite different. I've go the solid perfume because they didn't have the samples. Yet. Don't make that mistake, or you'll end up with a series of photos like the ones you've just observed. Instead, try the EDP testers.

The EDP smells green and classy at first (I told you green is back!), than floral (with lily being the most dominant) and afterwards drying down to a non-nondescript sweet musk. There is nothing of the boldness or originality of Lovely here. The solid, on the other hand, skips the fooling stage of a classy green at first, and jumps straight into the sweetness. It starts as a fresh and slightly tart green apple and hints of lemon, and than it's all about fake cocoa and musk. It's not unpleasant, but it's really not exciting and I can't see it becoming what Lovely has become - a staple in many ladies' fragrance wardrobe. As if to make it all worse, the lasting power of the solid perfume is very poor. Perfume usually lasts long on me, but this one doesn't. And it has a strange texture of glitter and dust - nothing like the rich and creamy all-natural cream parfums that I've been spoiled with...

With Kelly Calèche, the expectations went all the way from complete dismissal (pink jus, named after a bag), to a peaked interest once seeing the ad (now, that looks intriguing!) but I wasn’t holding my breath for it. When I passed by the Hermes boutique on Wednesday, I checked in and found it there. It was neither pink nor leathery. It was a green, dry iris with very little to remind one of leather if at all. It starts with an off-putting note that immediately reminded me of Rose Ikebana (which I’m not capable of wearing at all – the combination of berries, greens and rose is nauseating to me, and even more so ever since I overdosed on curried mango pickle in my avocado sandwich one day while wearing l’Ombre Dans l’Eau…). Thankfully, the sharp berry and green phase is short-lived, and is replaced by a fresh, citrus green accord, which quickly develops into a powdery rose and orris body notes. With a dry undercurrent (the leather?) it is not unlike No. 19. After all, pairing greens with leather is not a new idea (No. 19, Ivoire). Neither is the green perfume with orris and rose at the centre. For a moment I get a peppery dry whiff reminiscent of the tea-tinged Osmanthe Yunnan. Overall, Kelly Calèche wears like a sheer veil rather than a leather whip. It’s very well mannered, cool even, elegant in a selective and luxurious style, very much like the public image of Grace Kelly who inspired the bag which inspired the perfume’s name. Would I have been more impressed if the perfume would have been called “making soles in angel leather"? I won’t be able to say now, because it is named after a leather bag. A well made bag, but nothing that inspired emotion in me. I suppose I would have been more likely to appreciate its etheral greenness if it had a name and an image more fitting to what it actually smells like. Just like Bel Respiro and 28 La Pausa, the uninspiring name takes away from the value of the fragrance on its own.

Note that although mimosa and tuberose are listed, I can barely smell them if at all. The base is dry, cedary almost, though not quite leathery. I smell the faintest hint of labdanum there too, without the base becoming sweet by any means.

Yerbamate starts terribly green, nearly to the point of an Absinthe poisoning, I was always surprised I’ve enjoyed it so. I detect a fair amount of lavender as well as Artemisia, and again a very odd green – this time not only from galbanum, but also from the unusual note of tomato leaf. But what begins astringent and bitter like a very dry Martini suddenly changes direction and turns into an uber-sweet concoction. There is non of the berries or caramel here, yet like most of Villoresi’s scents (I find), it ends with a very sweet amber. This time, the amber is cleverly concealed amongst heaps of dried hay and powdery coumarin. If you think of a hay ride (or a more grown up type of hay ride), this would be a surprisingly soft one. And this is to the point of extreme indulgence in powdery ambery feathery fluff bordering on the dessert kind. The sip of bitter yerbamate was rewarded by sweetness that would have made you forget you might heard that name earlier…

Brin de Réglisse is not necessarily a dry lavender as seems to be the consensus in most media mentioning the scent. Rather, it plays up the richness of lavender, which can be more easily found with the absolute or concrete distillation: herbaceous yet sweet, green yet smooth – Brin de Réglisse renders a velvety gourmand lavender, likened to a lavender-flavoured chocolate. The licorice note, apparent right from the start is reminiscent of tarragon, with it’s off-beat, awkwardly green sweetness, which seamlessly complements the lavender paste. It is further deepened by deep cocoa and dark coumarin sweetness with a gourmand intensity that is more vanillic than hay-like. And than, after less than two hours of wear, it practically disappears… So unfortunately, while I find the concept of Brin de Réglisse just as surprising and original as Vetiver Tonka (a vetiver that stands out among the over-populated crowd of scents of that theme), Vetiver Tonka remains my favourite Hermèssence for both its originality and lasting power.

Jicky opens with a burst of herbaceous freshness, marked by the presence of lavender and rosemary. Citrus is also an important component at the opening – some bergamot, but mostly - lemon singing in harmony with the underlining sweetness of tonka bean, it’s a luscious sorbet ready to be licked. Vetiver shows a glimpse of itself early on too, than dives back in and disappears into the landscapes of animalic woods. The heart, although containing some florals (rose, jasmine) does not feel floral. Just as in Shalimar – the bouquet’s role is to transform a collection of essences into one seamless olfactory tale. This is where the signature Guerlinade accord of iris, tonka bean and vanilla begins, creating a sensual skin-like warmth underlining what otherwise would have been a herbaceous-citrus cologne-type fragrance. With the animalic vibrations of opoponax, civet and a touch of leather, vetiver and the most miniscule hint of patchouli. When experiencing the parfum extrait the similarities to Shalimar become quite self-evident, from the overall bouquet to the final dry down stages, and with its overall skin-like sensuality.

The mood for Jicky, however, is completely different than Shalimar. While Shalimar takes you directly to the depth of seduction and desire, Jicky does so in a most subtle way. I wore it and wondered how strangely narcotic a lavender is in that context, all the while maintaining its dignified antiseptic qualities. Was it the English lavender that pinched Aimé Guerlain’s heart? Or was it something else he missed about his mythical first love in Engladn? Or, perhaps, it wasn’t meant for a woman after all, but rather for his young nephew who will later on follow his footsteps and unleash many more Guerlain fairytales.
Jicky is said to be initially difficult to accept by women to whom it was created, and was more popular with men. (Mouchoir de Monsieur, created by Jaqcues Guerlain in 1904 was meant to answer to that demand). It may not smell as significant or original at the moment, among the myriads of scents, not to mention lavender scents alone – but its remarkable survival over the past 118 years speaks for itself.

This review is for the pure parfum, which is far more concentrated and less citrusy/herbaceous than the Eau de Toilette.


Top notes: Lemon, Bergamot, Rosewood, Lavender, Rosemary
Heart notes: Vetiver, Jasmine, Rose, Orris Root
Base notes: Tonka bean, Opoponax, Patchouli, Civet, Benzoin

N'Aimez Que Moi was created in 1916, int he midst of World War 1, to bring some hope and the promise of faithfulness to the many couples that had to part ways until the war was over.
You don’t need to know all this to enjoy N’Aimez Que Moi gives a sense of intimacy and comfort. Despite the fact that it is in a sense “an old fashioned” scent, it is so well made and artfully blended that it is timeless. N’Aimez Que Mois opens dark and dense, as most Caron perfumes do. The rose is nearly hidden in thorns and darkness of notes of cedar, moss and what seems to be the crying out loud of the Caron base… Slowly but surely, fresh roses start to bloom and open up with dewy petals but an almost green intensity. There is something very convincing and real about them – they are just about as close to true rose as I’ve ever smelled. But the roses don’t stand out on their own. The companionship of candied violets and powdery orris softens the green edge of the blooming roses, with a softness akin to kissing a very soft, freshly powdered cheek. And once you’ve reached the dry down, animalic tonalities of both jasmine and civet* create a sensuality and a sense of intimacy and closeness that lingers even longer than a kiss.

Top notes: Cedar, Rose
Heart notes: Rose, Violet, Orris
Base notes: Civet, Jasmine, Moss

* The drydown is so utterly similar to Joy that I am wondering if N’Aimez Que Moi wasn’t the inspiration for that perfume. However, N’Aimez Que Moi is so much more delicate and wearable for me, with none of the intense sharpness of aldehyde and lily of the valley that Joy attacks me with for the first couple of hours of wear.

For Him opens with a disturbing bouquet of both dry cement and wet concrete, unrecognizable spices and a honey note. The intrigue dissipates quickly when the scent becomes a familiar, I’ve-smelled-this-before modern fougere accord – a hint of fake herabceous water, a glimpse of violet leaf coolness. The dry down settles within about an hour – a close to the skin, rather soft, undecisive mélange of amber and musk (it is also said to contain patchouli, but I can’t say I am recognizing any). Nothing offensive in the drydown, and the sillage is soft and non overpowering – the contrary of what I’ve expected after the magical sillage and staying power of For Her (it has a tendency to stay everywhere after it was applied, and even withstand a laundry – yet it does it with a nice touch of mischevious elegance – almost like Josephine’s deliberate musk contamination before leaving Napoleon’s palaces). The only thing that truly stands out (if you take a very close look) is an animalic ambergris note, somewhat fecal, but with such low-key vibrations it can never offend and uness you’ve smelled it before it would be very hard to put your finger on it. And this might just be its chance for success, despite its overall rigidity.

I don’t feel I can say anything bad about this perfume, but I am not as enthusiastic about it as I was hoping I would be. Primarily because, while it does not smell like many other cookie-cutter celebrity and mass market scents, it is not particularly original either. From the moment I smelled it, I felt I was already familiar with it. It reminded me of quite a few fragrances, all of which I like to some extent but don’t love. Such as the opening notes for Sira des Indes, the floral bouquet of Pure Poison (only richer), Carnal Flower (less full-bodied though) and Allure (yet less powdery) and the clean patchouli and musk base of Lovely and Pure Turquoise plus hints of the incense and musk that is in Pure Poison. Prince’s music is original and cutting edge. His perfume isn’t. All the same, it is very wearable, and I’m sure I will be using up my 30ml bottle pretty fast. It’s just that kind of a fun fragrance that can be worn nearly anywhere and anytime. I’m curious to try the perfume concentration (it’s called “Xquisite Perfume” and comes in 15ml), as white florals usually smell better (creamier and richer) in higher concentrations, and in hopes they will also last longer before the cleaner and flatter base notes arrive.

How often do the dirty and the clean mix together and stay clean? Apparently, this is possible not only in muddy and stinky sulfur springs, but also in a modern-day perfume by the name of Pure Turquoise. The concept of cleanliness takes an interesting turn as grapefruit is married with patchouli. All of the above being immensely artificial smelling in a charming way, like a flaunt of an “I just shampooed my hair” swept backwards releasing that completely non-original fruity fragrance of 2-in-1 shampoo+conditioner with grapefruit and avocado or whatever.
Yet it is not until one gets beyond that hair-flaunting that a dirty, dusty, ephemeral scent of skin that just dried from a long soak in sulfur springs (or perhaps an improvised outdoor spa treatment of a fool-body warp in salty black mud), that the grapefruit and patchouli accord can be seen in a completely different light.
Pure Turquoise comes in two concentrations: eau de parfum for the poor, in a difficult to grasp cut-glass spray bottle; and pure parfum, for the spa aristocrat who loves to stack rocks over their jus. The latter crystal flacon is topped with a humongous sized turquoise stone, which unlike the beautiful one in all the posters and magazine ads, is not smooth and roundish, but cunt in angular shapes (just like the bottle is), and comes in a far paler and less impressive colour.

This is more of an olive scent than a cognac scent. Cognac is one of the most original fragrances Mandy Aftel, who is infamous for her use of hard to find, cutting edge natural essence. Cognac uses green olive fruit absolute along with a base of the fruity green cognac absolute (from residues of grapes in the wine-making process) and refreshing citrus top notes, to create a perfume that evokes the exquisite simplicity of life along the Mediterranean.

When wearing Cognac, I am instantly reminded of the "Mesique" (AKA olive fruit harvest), the breezy autumn days, chilly in the mornings but warmer around noon, when me and my little brothers would not go to school in order to help our parents harvest the olives before the first rains spoils them. After hours of olive picking, our fingers will diffusive of green fragrant fresh olive juice. When it was time for the ten o'clock break, we'd peel the first tangerines of the season, still mostly green on the outside but already sweet in the inside... But our olive-juice-anointed fingers will turn them as bitter as bittrex!
he texture of this fragrance, by the way, is quite oily - even though it is in an alcohol base. This must be again because of the olive fruit absolute.

Tango is one of my favourites from the Aftelier line. And one of the newest addition to it (it was launched this winter along with Orchid – which is my absolute favourite perfume by Mandy Aftel). Tango is a subtle and sexy perfume that leaves you with a taste for more, and is an example for the complexity and versatility of the champaca flower.

Tango starts smoky and rubbery with notes of myrrh and Choya Nakh (an essence of toasted seashells from India). Like asphalt heating in the scorching sun, it may feel overbearing but at the same time casts its magic upon the pedestrians as long as they don’t get burnt...

Than it softens into a soft, almost buttery floral perfume dominated by the rich, full-bodied and slightly fruity spiciness of red champaca and the creamy powderiness of tuberose. The dry down is complex and interesting, mostly a continuation of the tropical floral accord, but much softer, and well blended into the skin. A note of tonka bean helps balance the headiness of the florals and bring sweetness to the initial burnt impression. This olfactory dance lasts for a very long time, in a soft, muted manner –calculated like the controlled passion of the Tango steps, and never overpowering. The Tango dancer here really knows how to restrain her feelings and maintain her dignity through a brutally painful romance.

Until I had the dessert (Banana Sheera) I couldnt' really see the connection... But even though it has a reference to food, this is neither a typical modern gourmand nor one of those excessive fruity florals. Rather, it's a classic floriental, with a ripe fruity accord (I smell mostly cooked bananas, poached bosc pears and cardamom as the top notes), and with a shamelessly indolic heart of jasmine, champaca, narcissus and ylang ylang. The base is almost like a Guerlinade, with sandalwood and vanilla in almost as high a dose as Samsara, with a soft, musky powdery amber dryout. It's a refreshing thing to see a perfume that has a classical structure, yet with some new combination of notes. Tastefully done.

Balmy Days and Sundays is a particularly charming green fragrance, as it combines the the effervescent sparkle of greens alongside a calm warmth. The minty notes offer this contrast on their own, but also the choice of sweet florals paired with grass (rather than the traditional and often cool and sharp jasmine and rose paired with galbanum and orris that are usually found in green compositions), adds to the experience of a summer garden: refreshingly luscious and sun-warmed, a sensual delight to both eyes, skin and nose... Balmy Days and Sundays opens with the sweet greenery of fresh-cut grass and sweet warmth of mint, moves to a heart that is a heady floral (I smell mostly freesia and lily of the valley, but the perfumer also lists honeysuckle, rose and mimosa). The base is somewhat powdery with musk and moss, and like After My Own Heart (and the rest of Ineke’s line), is subtle and clean, yet in a non-sterile manner. The top notes and the heart notes definitely steal the show here. If you liked Herba Fresca, you are most like to enjoy this one. But also, if you liked some things about Herba Fresca, but found the grass notes there too harsh and the base too chemical, you might find that Balmy Days and Sundays is a more mellow impression of a summer garden (minus the intense citrus notes of Herba Fresca though).

This zesty concoction will satisfy your thirst for a refreshing cup of ginger and lemon tea, sweetened with honey!
It is as simple as that – fresh, balsamic citrus notes of lemon and a hint of lime, the fresh and pungent yet warm spiciness of ginger sweetened with honey and sparkled with green tea undertones. There may be some trace amounts of vetiver and elemi – there is a hint of woodiness at the base, but overall this is a one-dimensional synergy with one aroma therapeutic goal: to refresh you while keeping you calm and confident.
It is quite long lasting as well – a lot more than you would expect from such a fresh citrus perfume.
It smells very natural and young: no synthetic chemical notes disturbed my enjoyment of this uplifting juice!
If you like ginger and citrus and need a pick-me-up fragrance for those sleepy afternoon at the office – that would be a great choice.

Reminds me vaguely of vintage Chantilly with leathery and dry undertones yet an overall sweet smoothness. I really like this one!
The top is very muted, but you can still smell some remains of citrus and of course – an aldehydic and leathery opening. The heart is of rose and jasmine but mostly the very appealing (in fact, addictive!) notes of myrrh and Saxon moss. Base notes are earthy and leathery and very Chypre, with vetiver, oakmoss and leather, but the final dry down is musky in a very Shalimaresque way.

Top: muted citrus, Leathery notes
Heart: Myrrh, Peru Balsam oil
Base: Leather, Vetiver, Oakmoss

(Blind Review)

There are very few sun tan oils or sunscreen lotions that I like; yet, there is something immediately captivating about scents that bring to mind that sun-and-and-soaked feel of sunbathing products – the feeling of freedom and carefree, both peaceful and wild.

Fire Island is not so much fiery as it is bottled water-fun. It is suggestive of both watery breezes and sun-tan lotion: the scent that emanates from my skin when I climb out of the pool, dripping chlorinated water that washed away some of that gardenia and lily scented sunscreen. The late afternoon breeze is blowing, slightly chilling the skin into pleasurable goose bumps that glitter in the diagonal rays of sun that is just about to set in the horizon.

The Bond No. 9 line was designed to conjure memorable locations in New York. I have only been to New York once, so I cannot comment on the connection between the locations and the scents. Fire Island is named after a dune-y beach in the city, and the scent is one of the most likeable and easy to wear beach scents I know. The perfumer, Michel Almairac, also created the similarly innocent Secret Wish (Anna Sui), the sweet Casmir by Chopard, and many more.

The notes, according to Bond No. 9 are:

Top notes: Cardamom, Ozone
Heart notes: Neroli, White Musk
Base notes: Skin Musk, Tuberose, Patchouli

Personally, I smell mostly the ozone note, and notes of gardenia and lily and a slightly creamy musk with a hint of neroli.

Farnesiana is the cream of the crop in the world of mimosa soliflores. It is tastefully decadent, like a buttery almond pastry flavoured with flower essences, Farnesiana is more gourmand than floral.

Farnesiana was recreated by Michel Morsetti from Ernest Daltroff’s notes after his death in 1941. The name is taken from the Latin name for cassie, Acacia Farnesiana, as well as the garden in the Roman palace of Farnese which is the inspiration for Farnesiana. However, there is nothing Mediterranean about it, unless you recall the rich butter-soaked floor of an almond-filled baklava. The sweetness of Farnesiana, however, has none of the burning sweetness of the honey syrup of this Middle Easter pastry. It can be likened to a marzipan flavoured with floral waters, if such a thing ever existed.

In the time it was released in 1947, it was ahead of its time. Many gourmands nowadays pale in comparison to Farnesiana’s innovation and class.

Farnesiana is available directly from the Caron bouqitues in Paris and New York. I was very impressed with the excellent customer service of the Caron ladies in New York, Cathy Lily and Diane Haksa. The package arrived in a couple of days within the US to my aunt’s house, where it rested for a while until my aunt found her way to the post office (which can be easily explained by the fact that she is a busy 50+ mother of twin toddler boys). The long wait just wet my appetite and made me enjoy Farnesiana even more, when I almost forgot I ordered it. It came in the most exquisite silver coloured satin bag, fit for a queen, and accompanied by a few generous parfum extrait samples from the urn fragrances. The presentation made me think instantly of Marie Antoinette, who equally enjoyed pastries and perfumes.

Farnesiana opens with mimosa and cassie, but you know right away this is going to be a very unusual mimosa scent. The heliotrope note peak in right away, with its sweet, fluffy, powdery almondness. The heart is powdery and floral but not as indolic as Mimosaique or Une Fleur de Cassie, as the presence of jasmine is tampered by the lightness of farnesol and linalol in lily of the valley and lilac and the melancholy powder of violets. You won’t smell them on their own, but their effect is felt and adds a certain airy lightnes to what is otherwise a rich, sweet, dark composition. What’s most intriguing in Farnesiana, besides its extreme dessert-like appeal, is its ability to remain so Caronesque, despite the fact that it is dusted mostly with the bright yellow flower of mimosa, ever so light and airy on its own. The most dominant element that creates this Caronesque impression is the presence of opoponax, in addition to the darkly sweet and melancholy heliotrope. It adds a musky, resinous, animalic, daring and unusual touch which is just perfect with the other base notes (vanilla and musk being the most prominent besides the opoponax and heliotrope).

Top notes: Cassie, Mimosa, Bergamot
Heart notes:,Jasmine, Lilly of the Valley, Violet, Lilac
Base notes: Cassie, Opoponax, Vanilla, Sandalwood, Musk, Heliotrope

Like my other two favourite ambery orientals, Shalimar and Obsession, Anne Pliska actually glows in the heat and are a real treat, just like vanilla ice cream...

What I first got from Anné Pliska was a summery note of orange and cream soda slushy topped with soft vanilla ice cream, along with daring hints of leather (or wintergreen and birch), creating a root-beer-like effect – which adds an interesting, contrasting accent. After a few minutes this thirst-quenching, cool concoction of sweet crushed ice and vanilla desert fades a bit, and the herbal note softens and moves to the background (perhaps it is tampered by the sweeter, more well-mannered geranium). Vanilla and amber are definitely the most dominant notes and are the theme of Anné Pliska, and are much softer and mellower in the dry down, and become almost powdery. But despite the fact that the scent stays quite linear for most of the composition – it is never boring. The notes weave in and out and maintain the sweet and lovable presence of amber.

Anné Pliska , made by South Californian independent perfumer by the same name, was launched in 1987 (two years after Obsession). Although it shares many similarities with Obsession, it is quite different and more sultry and complex. Think about the creamiest Shalimar vanilla, the amber of Tabu and Obsession, the orange-mandarin notes of Obsession, a tad of unique spiciness that is vaguely reminiscent of Joop! For Men - and an unusual, mysterious oomph of its own – and you get Anné Pliska. If you love these three bombshell orientals, you must try Anné Pliska. In fact, you must try Anné Pliska anyways because it is a special amber perfume, and an example for what a well-made American perfume is: boldly luxurious and sensual, yet sophisticated and elegant.

Top notes: Orange, Mandarin, Wintergreen/Birch
Heart notes: Geranium, Vanilla
Base notes: Amber, Vanilla, Patchouli

Ineke’s perfumes, unlike their longish titles, are minimalist and calculated. The lilac-bouquet named After My Own Heart is an alphabetized representation of the emotion of longing and romance: a burst of lilac flowers, twigs and all, softly brushing against a blushing cheek in an anticipation for caressing kiss. A promise of love, the buds of passion invoked by hints of indole and the luscious juice dripping off freshly picked raspberries. As the crushed twigs and rubbed petals lose their freshness, they make room for rosy and powdery accords, gradually sweetening into a dry out of musk, vanilla and heliotrope.

After and before
Today and tomorrow
Sand becoming a wave
What was it I saw at the top of the world
as I fell asleep last night?
I tried putting lilacs in your dreams
You smiled in your sleep
I hear your words like the wind
whispering in my ear
the most enchanting words
after my own heart

In Eau de Toilette:
Sheer and simplistic. Cool notes of iris and vetiver reign, topped with a sparkle of lemon and galbanum, and a heart of violet leaf. Cucumber-like. Clean. Understated. Yet not at all conforming. It's leaves crushed by a pedicured hand and is best worn with white shirt, jeans and pearls.

In Eau de Parfum:
The floral heart radiates a greater warmth, as the essences emanating from the petals of a rose under the heat of the sun. Violet and orris and leather add a distinct edge of powdery texture that suggests cleanliness nature that is tamed by man to be well-mannered, like trimmed grass and shaped green hedges.

In Pure Parfum:
Neither too floral nor too cool or aloof. This is the joy of vetiver complemented by the coolness and greenness of galbanum, orris, cucumber-like violet leaves, and a few crushed petals of rose and jasmine. Delectable and unforgettable in a quiet, lady-like manner.

I am neither a fan nor a hater of Tom Ford and his olfactory concepts. When his first scent was approaching, I was easily able to hold myself together and wait till whenever it hits the local counters. Thought he packaging is quite beautiful (though not particularly original, considering similar designs of Nuit de Noel and Habanita), the name is particularly corny and over used in my opinion. So you see, when I mean disappointment I refer to it purely in the olfactory sense.
At first, Black Orchid seems to stand up to all the expectations it tried to set in the packaging and marketing campaign. The opening notes are definitely luxurious, Femme-Fatale infuses mushroom sautéed in their very own arrogant sexual secretion while deeply inhaling spices. There is some nicely done chocolate accord as well… But if you think this is the base, you have been miserably deceived. These carnal notes wear off quickly, gradually revealing a phase of rum-soaked berries (not so bad on their own, really) and than a short lived rose opens up, only to be brutally murdered by an aquatic patchouli accord. From now on it will only go downhill, resembling a better-version-of-Allure-Sensuelle, which while is quite an achievement on its own rights, it is also frightfully disappointing in its own original way:
In Black Orchid, Tom Ford had proved to the world that it is possible to create a perfume with marvelous opening that smells worser and worser as it develops on the skin, thus creating the most disappointing fragrance of 2006.

* I can accept the idea of a perfume opening with less than lovely notes, and becoming better thanks to interaction with the skin (though this is not always the case, of course, because of body chemistry etc.). But to intentionally create such a devolution from fantastic to unoriginal is quite insulting.

Shiso parfum is said to be based on a Geisha powdered-perfume formula, and it does not disappoint in that way. Shiso smells immediately mysterious and dark tea houses, where the accentuated facial features and expressions of pale-faced Geishas wrapped in many mysterious layers of silk kimonos wrapped in obis that were stored in protective camphor closets and smell of such. It smells of shiso, that unusual Japanese herb used to wrap meats and sashimi, and that has a complex aroma that is both green-herbal, powdery and spicy (it has a distinctively cumin-like nuance about it). Other apparent notes are camphor, agarwood and spices, but they are all blended to a powdery, woody, herbal and spicy-warm concoction that it’s difficult to smell any note in particular besides the shiso, camphor and agarwood that realy stand out.This is exactly how I would have imagined a perfume that dusts a Geisha’s artfully-made-hair to smell like.

While most of the Jo Malone scents are very simplistic and leave me cold for the most part, Vintage Gardenia made me feel instantly at home, as it reminds me of the smell in my best friend's childhood home. It is similar to a certain soap they used. Thus, Vintage Gardenia to me smells both clean and warm. I find the combination of notes to be working fantastically well, although they are quite unusual. Cardamom is one of my favourite notes, and thankfully it is present here and adds depth and character to what could be an overly heady white floral (as in some other gardenia scents). The base is warm and slightly bitter from the myrrh, which also balances the sweetness of the floral notes really well. Overall, the perfume smells to me like a combination of jasmine sambac, tuberose, cardamom and myrrh. Vintage Gardenia is one of the most original of the Jo Malone line, and my faovurite at that. In fact, it is my favourite gardenia scent so far!

I ignored this cologne from Jo Malone for the longest time, even though I never thought it unpleasant. In fact, I ignored most of the line, because for the most part I find the scents too "traditional" and the prices too high for something so conventional. Another reason I ignored it was due to a sample mix-up: even though they were manufacturer’s samples, my Orange Blossom and my Lime, Basil & Mandarin samples got confused, and so I thought that Orange Blossom was a conventional citrus & herb cologne and dismissed it with no second thoughts. Than when I got that mini-package - an extra mini bottle of Lime Basil Mandarin was slipped in as an extra, so I decided to give it a try. I quickly realized there was a mistake in the samples, and after further investigation learned that my charmging “Lime Basil and Mandarin” was actually Orange Blossom…

I was just stunned by how gorgeous Orange Blossom was! This is no ordinary citrus, nor what you would expect from an orange blossom scent, and it is quite unique. The note that stands out for me is the mandarin. When I put it on I was immediately transported to our family orchard I took care of my entire childhood, where I played and watered and weeded the trees. It was one of my favourite places and any scent that brings me back there is welcome to my collection. The heart is definitely orange blossom, which is one of my most favourite notes, and it helps that citrus top notes to linger just a tad longer than most other citrus colognes would.

This used to be one of my favourites from the line, but after I discovered the true identity of Orange Blossom, it kind of lost some of its charm for me. It’s a rather simple citrus cologne, and conjures a very aromatic grapefruit, so expect nothing of the sweetness of Guerlain’s Pampelmousse. Grapefruit is not the first thing that you think of when smelling this cologne, but rather – citrus. It’s a reviving and refreshing scent, and very handsomely done. I think one of the most incredible things about it though is how well it layers with other Jo Malone scents. It makes the nasty Blue Agava and Cacao smell delicious and alive, and adds spark to anything really.

Amber & Lavender is not so much about amber or lavender as it is about Fougere, and not the most ambery Fougere at that. It’s herbal and clean, with a bold presence and a classical masculine appearance. The base is a tad animalic, even indolic, and a tad spicy. Apparently, this was Jo Malone’s creation for her husband, and I am not surprised. A good Fougere scent is the epitome of masculine scents, and what I associate most with my man.
If you follow some of Jo Malone suggestions for layering with Amber & Lavener, you’d be surprised how versatile this scent is. It is equally warm and fresh, and adds an interesting twist to some of her other scents. The notes that stand out most for me are lavender, sage, cloves, amber and oakmoss.

This is a very peculiar Jo Malone, and is really different from the rest of the line. Even more different than Pomegranate Noir, as it not only combines notes that are very unusual and not often used in perfumes, but also notes that don’t really go very well together… This starts off kind of aromatic and green (must be the lime, an oil that is often used in household cleaning items), but you can smell the cacao bitter-sweetness in the background, which is kind of intriguing and a bit dry, which makes you think of cocoa powder. For some reason, this smells like a toilet duck to me. I usually try to stay away from such associations to describe scents, but this is what this reminds me of initially, in a peculiar, perfumey kind of way. Thankfully, it’s a well done toilet duck and it actually smells pleasant in its own odd way. The dry down smells to me almost exactly like Coty’s Musk Vanilla, which is quite nice. It does improve when you layer Grapefruit cologne on top though.

Black Vetyver Cafe is my second favourite from the Jo Malone line - right after Vintage Gardenia. Black Vetyver Cafe is exactly what it sounds: vetyver and coffee! The combination sounds strange, but it works magically well. It starts with black coffee note, and than dries down to a clean, woody vetyver. I can smell another woody element there, which makes it softer than just straight-up vetyver. I think it's sandalwood, but it could be the sequia note. I just wish the coffee note lasted longer and that the dry down was a tad sweeter - not as to make it “sweet” in a gourmand manner - just not all that woody. Vetyver has sweet & tart aspects and I wish they were played out a bit more here. Compared with Vintage Gardenia, Black Vetyver Café is more intriguing, yet less balanced in my opinion. I am not a fan of layering, but when layered with with Vintage Gardenia, it is quite interesting. The cardamom and white florals really complement it, and I recommend using a much lesser amount of the Black Vetyver Café.
Any way you look at it – from a vetyver or a coffee angle - this is a unique scent and should not be missed.

Le Voyage parfum by JoAnne Basset is a proof that pure, natural florals can sparkle and be delightful and light!

The voyage starts with a citrus flight – mandarin orange that is uplifting and slightly grassy-green note of listea cubeba. These compliments the heart of Rose essence, which is of superior quality – bright, sweet and fruity.
The Rose is supported by Jasmine and Linden Blossom absolute – together creating an accord that is Spring evoking and youthful, and at the same time ripe, luscious and mysterious.
The voyage captivates you even more upon landing the base notes – the grounding notes of sacred Sandalwood and Frankincense underline this beautiful bouquet and create a warm, comforting aura that leads you into an internal voyage full of delights and joy. The roses in full bloom are mysterious and velvety-soft, and bring internal harmony.

Le Voyage is an excellent perfume for the Spring –floral, fresh and light, yet with a warm, rich and enveloping dry down. The ingredients are of superior quality, which makes the experience of Le Voyage spiritual and therapeutic.

The Eau de Toilet is lighter and fresher, and the linden blossom note is more pronounced. I love the velvety softness of the Parfum, but I think the lightness of the EDT is very appealing.
However, both are essentially very similar and are equally floral and evocative of Spring!

The Unicorn Spell is an iris scent, and a very magical one at that. It starts off like a shake of frost from a unicorn mane, with a cool tinge of violet, and crisp, frost-bitten white rose petals in a crisp foggy November day. There is an underlining softness, milky indeed, of the orris and a tad of wood. This is the most floral of the trio, and the least approachable for me as it has that coolness, slightly sharp greenness that makes most green scents difficult for me to wear. But after overcoming the first sharpness I can enjoy the rose and the softness of milky orris.

L'Antimatière is the most easy to wear of the trio. Initially, it seem simple. Once worn, the simplicity works a spell in the shape of the softest angora sweater just coming out of the drier. It’s probably shrunk, but it smells great. A clean musk scent, with an unmatched warmth. After dry down the reason for its charm is revealed – there is vetiver in the base, and the woods add depth and interest and turn an everyday routine to an out of the ordinary sensation.

Let Me Play the Lion is the warmest and spiciest of the LesNez trio. It opens with a burst of cayenne pepper – dry and warm, notes of burning cedar and dusty frankincense. It can be compared to other perfumes that contain cayenne pepper – Piment Brulant, Poivre Samarkand, etc. – only softer. My associations run between a dusty, temperamental desert lion, yet with a mane so soft you want to sniff it, to a secluded cabin in the forest where the fireplace is burning with fragrant cedar and I am meditating with frankincense incense…

Pleasant, innoffensive, fresh and sligtly warm. Opens with freshly cut grass, a metallic hint, than cool, watery violet leat, warmed with cedar and musk. Wouldn't mind wearing it again, but it does not inspire me to write anything interesting...

Faithful to its name, Asja is all you could expect from a classical old-time oriental, but has a modern, up-bit twist that will make it adored even by those who typically dislike Orientals.

Rested on a sound foundation of all that could make a perfume an oriental - patchouli, musk, amber and clove bud absolute – Asja brings light and sparkle to this theme by using a well-balanced heart of a floral bouquet consisting primarily of carnations, and topped with a mouth-watering fruity accord.

Asja opens with a seductively luscious fruity notes that are sweet without being cloying and fresh without being flat or one-dimensional. The top not is engaging and inviting, and truly states what the perfume really is: a beautiful and rich, yet not overpowering Oriental, that is fruity and floral and not in the least cloying.

The eugenol theme (eugenol is the main constituent of clove buds and carnations) that characterizes this composition through all of its layers is pervasive but does not overpower the blend, and is not medicinal or sharp as you may expect:
There is something about the overall first impression of the top notes that brings to mind a rich, full-bodied mulled wine...As applied on the skin, a freshly-cut carnation flower emerges, immensely sweet and fresh, thanks to the addition of the round, rich and luscious fruity notes of peach and apricot, and a hint of citrus freshness.

The carnation heart is sweet and floral, and is rounded by exotic, fruity-floral notes of ylang ylang and a rich, subtle rose. It is also backed up by other spices that slowly emerge as the perfume develops on the skin: primarily Allspice Berry – the exotic large peppercorn-like spice, bold and interestingly dry and multi-layered. Allspice smells a lot like a pumpkin pie spice – a combination of cloves, cinnamon and nutmeg.

The eugenol note at the base is dry and sweet at once, like clove-bud absolute, which is much more subtle, refined and feminine than the essential oil. The accord at the base is especially rich and lovely – the orient at its best: patchouli, a hint of dry spices, amber, musk, honey and vanilla, and perhaps even a hint of dry moss.

Asja is a real treat, and an easy-to-wear Oriental. It is sensual, stimulating, soothing and comforting all at once. It’s a perfume you could wear everywhere for any reason (just take care of the doses) – you will enjoy it as well as others around you!
It somewhat reminds me of the charming and un-demanding Cheap and Chic by Moschino – just like it, Asja is a little flirty and mischievous, and begs for being enjoyed without hesitation or a second thought – just put it on and have fun!

Top notes: Carnation, Apricot, Peach
Heart notes Carnation, Clove bud oil, Rose, Jasmine, Ylang Ylang, Allspice berry
Base notes: Patcouli, Amber, Musk, Clove bud Absolute, Honey absolute




Floral-Oriental
Top Notes: Fruits, citrus
Heart Notes: Bulgarian rose, Egyptian jasmine, ylang-ylang, cinnamon, nutmeg, mimosa
Base Notes: Sandalwood, musk, vanilla, amber

Lovely is everything a celebrity scent wants to be, but more than that: it’s not only popular and fits beautifully with the character of the woman who created it, but also – it is original and oh so chic. It might just be the first interesting celebrity perfume since, say Denevue (by Catherine Deneuve). If I missed something along the way, please let me know.

The first thing that strikes me about Lovely is the unusual use of lavender and patchouli in such a light hearted context. This was no tutti-frutti fragrance as you may expect judging by the hundreds of perfumes (even more so with celebrity and drugstore fragrances) released recently. It had an original, elegantly rough edge to it. Lovely is modern chic, sharp like clean-cut like a tailored suit, yet flowing like a satin gown. It’s prettied-up only by an ornamental fabric rose - and more importantly, the bright smile of the person who wears it. Despite the fact that it does have florals, it is not floral in the traditional sense of the word. You don’t think of flowers when you wear lovely. If anything at all, you think of textures and fabrics such as crepe and linen and dull, brushed silk.

Now, about a year after its release, my patience to hold off a purchase has paid off: a new version has been just released. It’s the same fragrance, only based in an alcohol-free, silicone-based medium, and titled “Lovely Liquid Satin”. And liquid satin it is indeed. This formulation allows for a softer presence without the alcohol that usually interferes with the top notes, and also the bottle is truly lovely – a frosted, light pink hued bottle, or a golden “perfume wand” – a roll on of 30ml that fits into any purse or pocket. I am a big believer in small packaging for perfumes, so I was sold quickly on this one.

The opening of both formulations is a heady and clean, crisp mélange of rosewood, lavender and apple martini. The apple martini note is brilliant. It really adds an unusually vivid, effervescent quality to the opening and thankfully lacks the mustiness that some other apple scents uphold.* It’s boozy only in an elegant way – like sipping on the cocktail to appreciate the flavour, without getting drunk.

The Liquid Satin has a slightly different opening, in which I can detect top notes of lemongrass (which I do not smell in the alcohol based fragrance), which is sharp and grassy, but thankfully fades out rather quickly. The patchouli note is also more pronounced at the opening. I have a feeling that this silicone based version is more true to the original concoction by Ms. Parker. It just has that authentic impression of a perfume enthusiast blending scents together that will bear her own character.

The heart notes are abstract florals – orchids and paper whites. Paper whites are not fancy silken paper sheets as I was almost lead to believe, but rather refer to a flower from the narcissi family - Narcissus tazetta. I can’t say that I smell narcissus in there, but there is a light floral impression that is hard to describe. As I said – abstract.

These soft, ethereal florals bridge into an even more abstract base of highly processed patchouli (dry and clean rather than earthy and musty), amber and musk – together resulting in an effect that is very close to the skin. An original, clean musk skin scent, subtly surrounding the wearer with a mystifying aura that is clean and pleasant. I prefer the Liquid Satin over the alcohol based formulation. Although the scent is essentially the same, this version is softer and even more subtle.

Lovely has been compared often to Narciso Rodriguez, and while I agree that they are very similar, I still think of Lovely as an original fragrance. These are both light musk scents, very modern and abstract, with a suggestive floral heart, and an effervescent, boozy opening. But Lovely has a certain dry, almost rough edge to it that makes it stand apart and prevents it from looking like an imitation of Narciso Rodriguez (which I intend on reviewing very soon).

Celebrities and their scents come and go, but there is something about Lovely that makes me want it to stay. And if it wouldn’t stick around forever, I am certain it would be talked about and missed and longed for much like other old favourites that have disappeared into the abyss of discontinuation.

Top notes: Rosewood, Apple Martini, Lavender, Madarin, Lemongrass
Heart notes: Paperwhites, Orchid,
Base: Patchouli, Cedar, White Amber, Musk

I strongly resisted l’Instant when it just came out. It just was so not Guerlain. My first impression of it was of an unwanted (yet pretty) step-sister to the other Guerlain scents. Young and inexperienced rather as opposed to the sophisticated style that the other Guerlain scents radiate. Although l’Instant did not win my heart when I finally took on to wear it for a full day and notice its evolution, I did discover a beautiful magnolia scent – the trademark of its creator, Monsieur Maurice Roucel. L’Instant is a Floral. If anybody tells you otherwise, don’t believe them: this is not a “modern oriental”, in fact, it is not even what I would call floriental.

L’Instant is a scent that revolves around the theme of magnolia: sweet and honey like without being cloying (an element which the citrus-honey note supports); Iris to accentuate the fluffy powderiness; and a benzoin-vanilla base to maintain the sweetness as much as possible.

After application, I instantly recognized something familiar. It took me a while to get it - Tocade! Indeed, the two perfumes do share some striking similarities: both contain magnolia, bergamot, orris and vanilla. Tocade has a lot of roses, and in many aspects this is the main difference between the two. In fact, l’Instant is so similar to Tocade that I am surprised nobody picked up on it before. I will not be surprised if it is a tweaking of the Tocade formula – accentuating the magnolia rather than the rose and being a bit lighter on the powdery notes, with the addition of the new notes – like the crystalline musk and the citrus honey. The two also share in common the clean, crisp synthetic bergamot top note.

As the scent evolved on my skin, I got occasional familiar whiffs of pleasant memories – one originated in a magnolia body milk splash I had about 7 years ago, and the other was almost identical to a festive jar of lemon-scented honey (citrus honey with the addition of lemon flavour). Citrus honey, by the way, is honey which is produced form citrus flowers, and it usually has a much lighter colour and flavour than other types of honey.

Overall, l’Instant is a sheer and cheerful modern floral; Very pleasant and easy to wear even if not at all sophisticated or complex like most Guerlain scents are. I would take this any time over most of the recent Guerlain launches such as the Aqua Allegoria line, myriads of other fruity, floral and ambery-floral modern releases, and definitely won’t hesitate to pick this one over Insolence in an instant!
The crystalline base adds a somewhat aloof sensuality and sweetness – that is not unlike other modern orientals and florientals (i.e. the base in Addict, Nu, Kingdom and others).

Top notes: Rosewood and lilac notes, Bergamot, Mandarin
Heart notes: Magnolia, iris, citrus honey with some light lemon and orange blossom notes
Base notes: Benzoin, Vanilla (I couldn’t quite smell anything like amber).

Opening notes: Magnolia, Rosewood, Bergamot (Like the one in Tocade)

Heart notes: Citrus honey – clear, yellow honey with some lemon and orange blossom notes, Lily of the valley/lilac

Base notes: Benzoin, Vanilla, clear/white amber

Opens with a sweetness of five spice blend – comfortable yet strange, bizarre and juicy from hints of a lusciously sweet peach. A complex floral heart of white florals that are hard to identify and of which the gardenia is most dominant, underlined by a coarse-voiced murmurs of, warm, dirty patchouli and burning Buddhist sandalwood incense joss sticks. Slightly fishy, like the dried exotic seafood sold by the merchants in Chinatown, softened by the powderiness of vanilla and musk. Dry down of cedarwood, and the hints of smoky, rosy guiacwood. Chinatown might need some time getting used to and is a very unique and unusual scent. Caution: do not wear in extreme heat and humidity.

Figs are irresistible. Considered the fruit of Venus and Aphrodite in the Roman and Greek traditions, figs are believed to awaken a healthy passion and bring fertility. The sensuality of figs combines some ambivalence, just as sexuality can sometimes be both disturbing and pleasurable. And while the fruit is utterly seductive, lest we forget the leaves, who are responsible for the development of fashion for generations to come. And

This is perhaps why it took an Italian perfumer, Olivia Giacobetti, to recognize these intriguing traits in figs, and create the very first fig soliflore (Premier Figuier for l’Artisan Parfumeur). This green concoction opened with complementary (yet melancholy) notes of mastic bush, which accentuated the crisp and tangy greenness of figs, and was daring enough to pay attention to fig milk in the way of adding a coconut milk to the concoction.

But it wasn’t until Ms. Giacobetti has created Philosykos that the sensual experience of green figs was completely squeezed into a bottle. Anything from the very first aroma surrounding the trees baring the ripe (or not-so-ripe) fruit in summer can be experienced from first whiff of Philosykos. One can feel the fuzziness of the fig skin and the roughness of the leaves as they rub against a bare shoulder. One can hear the crumbling of dry wild grass underneath the tree as the eyes are set up to the branches searching for that paler, slightly yellowish waxy look of the just-ripe fruit. One can feel the surprising stinging sensation of the skin when the fig-milk drips from the slightly under ripe fruit’s stem, and crawls along a trembling finger and sticks to greedy lips and burning tongue.

Green figs are best eaten fresh. To be more accurate, they must be eaten straight from the tree, and not be washed at all. If they are dusty, considered the dust a gourmand addition from the earth itself. If the milk burns your lips, consider it a blessing of fire, as even the purest spring water cannot wash the milk away.

Many secrets were whispered below the fig trees, many warts were banished by the burn of the firey milk, and many summers were seasoned by aromatic green figs. When I can’t hop on the plane to pick figs with my brother along the sides of Road no. 6, at least I have Philosykos to marinate myself in, with it’s dry and green edible notes of green fig, coconut milk and cedar.

Judging by the passionate colours of the fluidly designed phallic bottles, I was really expecting something powerfully seductive. Instead, what I got from Kenzo Amour was a cuddly synthesis of gourmand suggestions, what is now known as “comfort scent” – the equivalent of a chocolate, ice cream or a bag of chips on a lonely Friday night, watching cartoons on the couch and wearing pyjamas with matching cartoon character prints.

Kenzo Amour starts with a confusing floral bouquet – marketed as frangipani and cherry blossom. I smell a hint of rose and powder that is a déjà vu of Flower – one of Kenzo’s greatest hits. There is an underlining of powder and musk. The heart notes dive into a concoction of cherries and steamed rice, in a dessert connotation such as rice dumpling sprinkled with crushed raw peanuts; And a rather gentle suggestion of cherries – somewhat like a subdued version of Lutens’ Rahat Loukum. What saves me from drowning in sweetness is a slightly tart note, which I cannot quite place my nose on.

The base is powdery musk and vanilla, as in Flower, or the signature drydown of the Ormonde Jayne line (The tartness of Amour reminds me of the pink pepper and dates notes in Ta’if, and the steam rice recalls the basmati rice in Champaca).

As for the packaging: this is quite a lcever marketing stunt: three bottles of the same fragrance, in three different colours and slightly different shapes. These look great next to each other on the ad. But in reality, they look like an interesting take on clean Scandinavian and Japanese design gone cheap and sold at IKEA, after being molded into cheap plastic or ceramics, or worst yet – leather couches. I almost bought into it, and first bought the large freesia coloured bottle, only to discover that in this size it looks more like a vase than a perfume flacon – and the colour is all wrong, it’s orange and plasticky looking (anyways, when displayed on its own…). I suggest starting small, with the fuschia bottle, which is truly adorable (as long as you manage to get over the feeling that you are about to take a bite from a chicken’s drumstick when opening it).

When I lived in Ramat-Gan, a part of Greater Tel Aviv, where the Elit Chocolate Factory resides, I could smell the chocolate everyday on the way to work. The building is grey and melancholy looking, just like any busy factory. But this concerned no one. The fragrance of chocolate that wafted in the air within about a mile radius around the factory was the best start imaginable for a morning – particularly on a winter day. And what more – smelling chocolate has none of the (down)side-effects of eating it, even early in the morning. It was pure indulgence.

Amour de Cacao is just this: the scent of a laborious chocolate factory, sweet and rich and creamy and oh so tasty. Today, the first day of weather that does not resemble melted chocolate, I got into the browny mood of warmth and chocolate. I sprayed myself generously without feeling in the least overpowered. I am walking all day in an invisible cloud of rich chocolate, slightly caramely, with nutty undertones of walnuts and roasted coffee beans. Light as cocoa powder, without the sneeze. Pure pleasure.

This is again a review of the older version of the scent from Comptoir Sud Pacifique. The new version, Aloha Tiaré, is not the same scent at all. Generally speaking, the new one is more of a gardenia and tuberose scent, while the older version reminds, while the original, baring the simple name Tiaré, is a creamy and indulging Monoi Oil scent – an infusion of the Tahitian gardenia named Tiaré in coconut oil.

Unfortunately, the beginning of Tiaré is overwhelming and smells strongly of artificial jasmine and gardenia on an oily background of coconut and vanilla. The intensity level is so overwhelming that it gives off the impression of fueling gas. Luckily, after about half an hour it softens into a creamy scent of white flowers condensed and immersed into coconut oil infused with vanilla beans. The drydown is not unlike my favourite Songes - only feels less sophisticated.

Tiaré reminds me very much of Yves Rocher’s Monoi de Tahiti body and hair oil – also discontinued, unfortunately. I think I prefer the scent of Monoi as a body product, in an oil base, rather than as a perfume. There is something more appealing about it as a beach scent per-se, rather than a scent that suppose to remind us of the beach. There is something about this that just makes it feel fake.

Songes was exactly what I expected it to be, and might be the first Annick Goutal that I would actually buy a full bottle of, as I had hoped it would
It's a creamy and soft white floral, and although it has a definite presence, it is very gentle. Wearing is it like being wrapped in a fluflly cloud of subdued flowers from the tropics, washed by gentle rain, than dried again to excude a delicate, far more tolerable sweetness. The opening is a lush, creamy gardenia (not the heady bobmshell that is Gardenia Passion), along with yalng ylang and jasmine, and than comes a creamy tuberose with incensey undertones (at this stage it reminds me of Noix de Tubereuse, less the slightly plasticky/lipstick like note there), along with slightly tea-like notes of jasmine and a tiniest hint of green and peachy fruitiness that dissipates after a couple of minutes. It's smooth and round and there is no particular note standing out, all the notes create together a tropical floral dream and a lazy feeling of satisfaction. The dry down is sweet and ambery with powdery vanilla. It's never too sweet nor cloying. Just sheer pleasure and a good measure of modesty. It's a sensual white floral without being bombareous or pretentious.

Femme in pure parfum is a rare beauty that has become almost extinct. It is a different formulation than the more in-your-face sexuality of the modern reformulation of 1989 by Oliver Cresp – of both eau de parfum and eau de toilette, which still possesses the extreme individuality and general impression of the original woman, but has a significantly different (slightly plasticy) ambery base and daring top notes of cumin.

In 1943, Femme was created in the ruins of Paris during World War II. As the lotus flower stems out of death and putrefaction, Femme is a bright, warm-coloured coral found in the depth of a dark cold ocean amidst the ruins of steel ships and dead submarines.

And this happens also on the olfactory level: from the interaction between mundane notes of common spices (cinnamon, cloves), the dirty earthiness of patchouli, labdanum and moss, a few floral staples (rose, jasmine, ylang ylang, orris) and a few oily-fruity aldehydes which could have been discovered as a by-product of weapon development, a beautiful, golden flower rises:
It is modest and unusual, with a quiet presence that is warm, powdery and leathery all at once, yet it is a flower. The ghost of osmanthus. A flower that did not lend its essence to the composition of Feem, but nevertheless is the fruit of the lovemaking that occurs between strange essences in the privacy of the test tube.

Top notes: Peach, Plum, Peach, Bergamot, Lemon, Rosewood
Heart notes: Ylang-ylang, Jasmine, May rose, Clove, Orris
Base notes: Musk, Amber, Oakmoss, Vanilla, Patchouli, Benzoin, Leather

Even the faintest whiff of Arabie sends me to places I haven’t visited since I was a little girl of 3 or 4 years old, back to the Muslim quarter in ancient Jerusalem. My parents used to take me there almost every Saturday. Arabie smells just like the Muslim market over 26 years ago - spices such as saffron, coriander, cardamon, cinnamon... Sweet confections (Rahat Loukum) and the famous refreshing scents of Tamarhindi drink that were sold by merchants
carrying a copper barrel on their back (with little taps, the glasses they had were actually made of glass, so they will wait for you to finish the drink before continuing their merchant-trail). Scents of straw mats, Persian carpets, handmade mattresses, copper lamps, ropes... All somewhat dusty and desert smelling, enclosed between tall ancient stone wall, and cool underneath the arches, protected from the heat of sun and human temprament alike... The abundant tactile and sensual distractions will confuse the warrior and soothe the poliltician… Tangy green almonds with salt sold at the exit by young boys sitting on rolls of rubber tubes…As well as the famous long oval sesame-drizzled fluffy bagels with Za’atar (a herb mixture based on wild hyssop and thyme). Those bagels and the cliché olive-tree camels and a few blue glassblown vessels at the Jaffa Gate only scrape the surface of these memories...

There are two ways of getting privacy when you need it – hiding away (i.e.: “DO NOT DISTURB” sign on the door) or kicking the unwanted company out. The latter can be achieved by sufficiently spraying oneself with generous douses of Muscs Koublai Khan – the most daring and sensual musk I have ever smelled. It reeks of raw, animalistic sexual energy of the most desirable nature. While the opening may be obtrusive to some, it is surprisingly clean and warm at once to my nose, while also being intesely animalic, yet
curiously does not bring to mind any specific animal… In fact, it is quite like raw ambergris chunks, straight from the beach, undiluted. But as I said – it is strong enough to send out of the room all parties that are not invited, or for that matter, not welcome to whatever will take place after the drastic step has been taken… And keep the one(s?) that will stick around long enough for the stench to dissipate and turn into the most alluring, warm and erotic musk.
Muscs Koublai Khan gradually softens but never quite changes it’s true character. It lasts for hours and hours on end, and I must admit it can be quite distracting (for yourself and others) to wear it during the day in situation that require reasonable thinking and perhaps even a bit of cognitive effort. Rather, it is a scent for times of freedom and no restraints, either out in the wild or in the privacy of your own room… It’s a scent that draws your full attention to its source, and haunts you without mercy. It is inspiring, motivating and mesmerizing. You simply won’t be able to stop thinking about it when wearing it – in a good way…While the aphrodisiac qualities are quite obvious, it is a truly liberating experience in all levels to wear Muscs Koublai Khan – it is very much reminiscent of the male body odour, and to pull this out, one needs to have quite the presence and sense of self-acceptance – also known as one of the keys to happiness.

Of all the recent Osmanthus themed scents I have smelled, this is the most floral. Yet, it does not make me think of osmanthus in particular. What I get at first is a creamy reminiscent of aVasline Intensive Care Body Lotion embrace – soft and clean. This is tinged with peach and apricot skins, which is the part where the osmanthus makes its modest entry, but the overall impression is of a peachy, slightly coconuty suntan lotion. The floral heart is very appealing and has a somewhat Victorian feel to it, like a powdery violet scent, along with soapy jasmine and tuberose greenness.
Keiko Mecheri’s Osmanthus is my favourite so far from her line. But as an osmanthus scent, it is still not what I would choose for someone to try in order to get a good idea of what osmanthus is suppose to smell like. It’s a fun, comfort scent that makes me think of summer and gardenias.

Top notes: Apricot, Peach
Heart notes: Osmanthus, Violet, Jasmine,
Base notes: Musk

Osmanthe Yunnan is quite citrusy, and being the lightest and freshest of all the Hermessences – it is the most approachable, and probably another one of the most popular scents in this line. I have searched high and low for the osmanthus note in this one, and was happy to finally find it after stripping away the many sheer veils of citrus and tea, and it was subtly floral, with just a hint of apricot and with a barely-there creaminess. It is a subtle, well done scent – but whatever amount of osmanthus there is in Osmanthe Yunnan – it is very under-satisfying.

This is not to say that I dislike Osmanthe Yunnan, however, I do find it disappointing. It’s quite surprising how a floral with such a definite character (osmanthus absolute is one of the richest and most compelling floral absolutes I ever smelled – apricoty, leathery and absolutely divine) can easily be buried in other notes – especially when they are all so fleeting, light and transparent in nature. What I get from Osmanthe Yunnan is a reminiscence of other wonderfully refreshing, citrusy-watery creation by Ellena – namely Bvlgari Eau Parfumee Au The Vert, and Un Jardin sur le Nil.

Notes: Yunan Tea, Orange, Freesia, Osmanthus, Apricot, Leather.

Ambre Narguile is I believe one of the most popular of the line, which is not surprising. It is sweet and satisfying, yet without being cloying. If I had to pick an amber scent from all the rich, oriental ambers out there – this would be one of the candidates for sure. Amber is such a round, sweet and almost fatty note that it can be almost tiresome to be around it on its own. I remember when I was in an amber phase about five years ago, and I couldn’t get enough of amber. Well, it seems that I did get enough of it after all, it is a note that builds up and can saturate your system... It can affect the mind almost like a sedative or narcotic drug, and makes everything feel sensually slow and romantically mysterious. But as I said – I am out of this ambery phase of mine, and the only amber I really love smelling on a constant basis and don’t tire of is pure labdanum – or any amber that is based on plenty of labdanum and has some dryness to it. Ambre Narguile has some dryness to it which I find very appealing – it has almost leathery undertones, reminiscent of pipe tobacco. But still, I can’t imagine myself wearing it very often as my amber addiction was cured long ago.

Notes: Labdanum, Musk, Benzoin, Vanilla, Tonka Bean, Caramel, Roasted Sesame Seeds, Rum, Coumarine, White Orchid

Vetiver Tonka, my most favourite so far, is simple and interesting at once. It is one of the best Vetiver scents I tried, equally revealing the sweetness and freshness of this magnificent root. The opening reveals the green freshness of Vetiver, as it is accentuated by citrus notes – a very common maneuver in Vetiver scents, but one should not dismiss it because of that. As it dries down, it reveals the sweet earthiness of Vetiver as it is accompanied by the rich cigar-flavoured tones of tonka bean. What I love about Vetiver Tonka is its rich simplicity. It does not have that many notes or facets, does not go through any significant transformation (once the initial fresh citrusy opening subsides, it is Vetiver and Tonka all the way), yet it stays interesting all the way. Both Vetiver and tonka are very complex notes, and there is something quite magnificent about two notes so different from each other working together so well. It lasted for a very long time as well, despite the fact that this is just an Eau de Toilette.

Notes: Neroli, Bergamot, Vetiver, Roasted Hazelnuts, Dried Fruit, Cereals, Tonka Bean

Poivre Samarkand, the second most intriguing scent from this line in my opinion, marries spices with wood and musk, and the result is interesting and different – yet very classy and with a subtly bold, masculine presence. Szechuan black pepper and dry chilli pepper are not as pungent as you may expect, and lead quite naturally to the more conforming notes of cedar and musk. It all dries down to a subtle skin scent, just barely peppery, woody, slightly mossy - and musky enough to be smelled only by those who are not anosmiac to musk…

Notes: Black pepper, Chilli pepper, Oak, Cedar, Musk, Chinese Moss

There is a moment of revelation when approaching a familiar scent – for a moment there are two matching vibrations between two scents – the first one being the one in the smeller’s mind and the other the actual scent that is being smelled. A whiff of a flower and the vapour emanating from a bottle met and struck a chord in my ofactory heart when I smelled Fleurs d’Oranger.

The top notes of Fleurs d’Oranger are likened to dewy orange blossoms on the tree in early morning. However, this tree grows in Serge Lutens’ garden, which means it has an unbelievably rich soil. The blossoms warm up to the glowing sun of high noon and attract humming bees to transform them into honey. They exude a sweeter scent with the help of understated tuberose and jasmine notes. By the end of the day, the rich soil reveals itself in full blast with the signature Serge Lutens amber. The blossoms have melted into sweet golden honey and turned deep orange, saffron, crimson and fuschia in the sunset. Its creator was right: it is the scent of happiness.

Things you may find while passing might be the least expected. I passed through to smell the lilacs of En Passant, and in a short snatch, a-la the chess maneuver by the same name, I found myself searching for whales on a misty day on the Sait Laurent river… Unsuccessfully, needless to say, but enjoying the fjords and the moist mist…
The heady, innocent and slightly powdery spring-like scent of white lilac quickly leads my nose to the subtly fragrant branches and stems bearing blossom-vines. These transform into an olfactory green fig leaf scent, and than in a split of a second you find out that you just jumped, head first, into a chilly ocean – smelling the fresh air of the ocean breeze, with its slight saltiness, and the clean, fine mist meeting your face as you watch for whales on the fast-loating boat…

With notes of white lilac, cucumber and wheat, Olivia Giacobetti has created an abstract lilac perfume that is more of a subjective interpretation of the flower rather than an effort to re-create the scent of the fresh blossom. Its ozone and marine cucumber notes are not my personal favourite and the wheat adds to a certain flour-y powdery yet green nuance that is nevertheless interesting and original on its own. However, the result of the final drydown is surprisingly disappointing in its ozonic-oceanism and its reference to l’Eau d’Issey of all perfumes.

Top notes: White Lilac
Heart notes: Fig, Cucumber
Base notes: Wheat, Violet Leaf

Au The Rouge – though I expected it to be irresistible – is a bit disappointing. Red tea is referring to rooibos tea – the sweet tasting South African bush, used as a (superior, in my opinion) substitute to black tea – less the theine. However, Au The Rouge starts with the acrid note of oolong black tea and a hint of spice (so it’s not quite ‘decaf’). The dry down reveals the rooibos – smooth and delicately sweet. It is very pleasant, though I did not detect the fruity and nutty fig and walnut notes that are part of the marketing scheme for this scent (another disappointments, as I love figs). Comparing to what I expected from it I can say I hoped for more and was disappointed – this scent does not particularly stand out and my favourite remains Au The Blanc. For my red tea kick I will stick to my favourite rooibos chai.

Au The Blanc is my favourite of all the Bvlgari teas – a white musk and orris scent and with the typical acrid aftertaste of white tea, a hint of white pepper and amberette seed. The powdery and musky notes are lovely and refreshing and it’s perfect for warm weather without being a citrusy cliché.

Au The Vert, the first in the series, is the most fresh and citrusy of all – with notes of bergamot and green tea and a tad of honey at the bottom to sweeten your beverage. It's nice, but just not quite my personal style...

The most incredible and unexpected birthday present I received was vintage Black Rose by Goya. It came in a cute
little matchbox with a dark rose. Only 1/3 of the perfume is still there (about 1ml at the most I think). And it’s smells heavenly of dark burgundy rose, almost black petaled, almost dry yet fragrant than ever. The scent is quite old, and becomes faint after an hour or so, so I cannot give you very accurate impressions of the base. Overall, it is similar to Nuit de Noel, only with the rose being the theme, and less the dry Saxon moss. The base is slightly mossy, perhaps with civet and amber, only that it is not sweet. But the top to middle notes are divine and rosy, like tucking your nose in a cushion of dark petals.

The most unusual perfumes are ones that have a strongly familiar scent. The sneaky, abstract nature of the human brain often mystifies the identity or the cause for the familiarity of a scent. Yet. it cannot conceal the fact that when it does that, when a new scent has a matching vibration to a significant scent from a different point in space in time – a person might suddenly move to different realm.

True, this does not happen with a flash of blue lightening a-la “Quantum Leap”. Rather, it happens gradually and gently, like melting through a gauze screen. First – my nose started sniffing ahead of my body, than my heart and lungs were filled with joy, my skin felt a familiar, pleasant shiver, and finally - my eyes became blurry and I sensed that I am no longer in the room (or wherever I was at the moment, it didn’t matter anymore): I suddenly found myself sitting on the mountain above my house in my home village, in a warm, sunny winter day under a bright azure skies, and surrounded by blood-red arbutus trees, striving oaks, velvety sages, Dam Hmacabbim flowers, and rockroses in full bloom.

That is what happened to me when I spritzed on some 100% Love, expecting chocolate and roses floating on water – and discovered none other than my favourite note of all times. No, it’s not rose. It’s Rockrose. Better known as Labdanum. Labdanum is simply the richest, roundest, most interesting note there is. A perfumer should not be biased, and should love all notes equally. And I do practice this when I design and create my perfumes. But I am also a woman who has her own personal preferences. It’s been well known to me for quite some time, that if I will ever need to pick only one note to wear for the rest of my life, I will choose without a moment of hesitation to grow old with Labdanum. It is many things at once, and I love it’s complexity, richness and depth: resinous, ambery, incensey, earthy, sweet, leathery, dark, sultry and reminiscent of dry blood, and despite the fact that it does NOT come from the pretty, wild-rose-like flowers, which by the way possess very little scent - but rather from the resin that covers the branches, leaves and twigs, boiled in water and than distilled into an absolute.

After a blind date with this unusual beauty (thank you, Victoria!), which was extended into three days now, I am quite in love with…100% Love.
It opens with roses and a backdrop of caramely chocolate – dark but sweet. But very quickly you will realize that neither rose nor chocolate are the real heroes of love here. The labdanum pervades the composition for hours, and since it is such a complex scent, it is perfect that way. After about 6 hours, a lovely, subtle musk note crawls out of its satin bed, with a comfortable sexy yawn, and invites you to join in. If you stay long enough Vetiver may join in as well – a very quiet, dry Vetiver, woody and almost unnoticeable.

If you expected this to be YSL Paris or Bvlgari pour Femme or Tresor accompanied with a heart-shaped box of fine chocolates, you may be disappointed. This is quite an unusual Sophia Grojsman composition – though it is Grojsman in the sense that it is simple and pared down to the essential elements – while maintaining a bold, sensual and unusual statement. Despite the minimalism in notes, this is a very rich, down to earth, and I believe full of natural essences. The rose smells like rose absolute and rose otto (as opposed to a synthetic rose compound, or, if you will, damanscones). The chocolate smells like the pure cocoa absolute. And I think I already talked enough about the labdanum. The musk at the end is the only synthetic smelling note, and it makes for an interesting underlining accent for the rest of the notes. It’s a perfume – not a bouquet of roses and a box of chocolates. To me, this is Sophia Grojsman at her best.

Top notes: Rose Otto
Heart notes: Rose Absolute, Cocoa absolute, Labdanum
Base notes: Labdanum, Musk, Vetiver

I first smelled Agent Provocateur in London, it’s birthplace, I suppose, and immediately dismissed it as being too bold and loud as well as old fashioned, and was rather convinced that it smelled like other perfumes I smelled before (if indeed I smelled something like it that was when I was a little girl, and I have no way to track it at the moment besides, perhaps, relying on your suggestions and guesses – and these are more than welcome!). Than one day, it showed up at my doorstep one day thanks to a perfangel, and I decided to try it on my bare skin. What may have smelled sharp, bitter, spicy, acrid and dry at first – with a dash of aldehydes for a good measure of old-fashionedness – turned into a quite interesting yet very wearable fragrance.

It is not as soft as the smooth egg-shaped (a symbol of fertility, claim the marketing masterminds behind the scent; fertility and espionage, interesting combination...) porcelain flask may suggest. But it does have the contrasting effect, reminiscent of the black lace through which the pale pink shade skin tone peeks, as if blushed.

The spicy, sharp opening of coriander and saffron exudes confidence more than it is exotic or Arabesque as may be expected. It does, however, mellow quite quickly with an explosion of roses laced with hints of complementary flowers, their softness undermined by the dry, acrid tones of cedar and Vetiver. The dry down is actually softer – there is still cedar, roses and Vetiver, but they crubmle into a dry yet soft, powdery presence underlined with musk. Despite the dryness and because of its warmth, Agent Provocateur is like a sexy coarse voice from a mouth dry from heat and excitement. But it can also be other things.

Agent Provocateur is allegedly the scent that will provoke upon you inconceivable naughty crimes that you would have never thought of before. But really it is just one solidly constructed perfume for a change, in a fragrance world that often seems to dissolve into an awkward redundancy and offers unreliable olfactory fantasies. It has all that I like about Ivoire (roses, dry woods and leather), but without the sharp greenness. One could easily drop the sexy image and wear it to a formal occasion without ever being accused of sexual harassment or any other provocations. Even Mata Hari needs to go for lunch sometimes.

I would not pretend that Agent Provocateur does not have any of the Femme Fatale allure to it. It is a sensual, bold and daring in its own way. But I am not so sure about the espionage component… My feeling is that if it indeed provoked anything in that direction, it is the re-definition of Chypre. There is no oakmoss in it to make it a Chypre, yet this is its official classification. As a perfumer and a Chypre admirer and expert I would classify it as a woody floral, or a spicy oriental. If there is a perfume to blame for the introduction of the concept of “Pink Chypres” in modern perfumery, let it be Agent Provocateur. But I will get into this conspiracy theory at another time…

To read my full review, visit my blog: http://smellyblog.com/

Tabu truly fits its name and image (as in the famous painting in the original advertisement): a forbidden, sensually provocative scent – just like the forbidden love between Anita and Holger in the unforgettable film “Intermezzo”.

Tabu has a dry edge of spices and carnation with a heart of gold – rose, orange blossom and jasmine sweetened with resinous honey note over a sultry foundation of patchouli, amber, civet and musk. Although the top notes seem dry and somewhat sever at first, they quickly evolve into voluptuous seductive curves that whisper a lustful invitation.

And you better listen to those whispers, as Tabu is the definition of a good buy – a high quality, original perfume (in fact, an Eau de Cologne!) with class and lasting power that any great name perfume house would be proud of, for prices as low as $10-$15. It’s also very reliable: it’s been around since 1932 and haven’t been altered as far as I know. In fact, it is written in the history of perfumes as the trendsetter for perfumes such as Youth Dew (1952) and Opium (1977) that tried their hand at this Oriental greatness only decades later.

With its dark juice and dense composition, the name Youth Dew seems a bit out of place - unless the dew drop smells of civet, and adorns a wild narcissus in the middle of winter. The opening of Youth Dew reminds me tightly knotted woolen yarn, soft, warm and inviting - yet you can’t find the end/beginning and start knitting yet!
As it settles on the skin, it starts opening up, one bit at a time. As the citrus wears off and the spices soften by woody undercurrent, bit by bit the floral heart starts to emerge until reaching a peak – where narcissus and ylang ylang dance to the indolic rhythm of the civet base – sexual to a degree that borders on the impolite, so you need to hold on with self-conviction and dignity. But even the luscious of flowers decompose and return to earth, this time made of muddy puddle of earthy patchouli and vetiver which gradually softens and mellows until finally reaching a delicate dry down phase that is vanillic and surprisingly reminiscent of Chanel no. 5.

This is the review for the pure parfum – a limited edition in a beautiful, frosted flacon with a delicate frosted flower stopper, filled with the almost black juice this leaves an unforgettable impression!
I find Youth Dew to be very suitable for winter, and can’t imagine wearing it in any other season and being able to keep my olfactory bulb intact. The indolic heart and the earthy base surprisingly reminds me of sticking my nose into a narcissus, inhaling the scent that smells so delicate from afar, and so deadly from nearby; inhaling it along with the some rare raindrops that clanged to the petals; All this after spending the whole afternoon jumping in puddles after the rain stopped…

Top notes: Citrus and Spices
Heart notes: Narcissus, Ylang Ylang, Cloves, Rose
Base notes: Civet, Patchouli, Vetiver, Vanilla

p.s. I am giving it only a neutral rating because I don't think it is as original as it is considered to be. Tabu by Dana preceeded it by 20 years; And a similar famous perfume - Opium (20 later) is superior to it in composition. I do appreciate it highly for its breakthrough in American perfumery and the impact it had on women.

Strange, mysterious and elegant, Private Collection is a perfume of rare beauty and originality. Although I liked the EDP very much, I find the parfum far superior, and this is the version I chose to review here.

The opening notes are impossible to pass by without notice: green and strange. Galbanum, freshly cut grass and twigs, along with a hint of beetle-like scent, slightly apple-y*.

An elegant white floral heart complements the green notes with orange blossom absolute, neroli and rose and a tad of jasmine and lily of the valley. Underneath it all there is a warm and soft undercurrent of Oakmoss and sandalwood.

This is an exceptional perfume with a frosty aura of crisp elegance just as the bottle so beautifully portrays). It’s cutting edge yet classy. It comprises of an interesting counterpoint of a distant, well preserved beauty and a warm and loving personality that is very approachable. It’s the combination of elegant florals, childhood-invoking green notes and warm mossy and woody notes that make this perfume’s personality so well rounded and lovable.

*If you never encountered the bugs I am talking about you will find this comment very strange, however, in my childhood there were little black flying bugs that exuded a sharp, strange, green apple-like scent. I didn’t like the scent at the time because it was overwhelming, however, bottled in this perfume with a more subtle proportion, it brings back sweet childhood memories…If you find this association off-putting, please forgive me. I just thought it will be best to be honest and informative about fragrant notes found in nature that don’t often get mentioned (although I doubt anybody uses these in perfumery, so this must be a relief for you – and for me, a lifelong vegetarian).

Top notes: Galbanum, Freshly cut grass, Galbanum
Heart notes: Orange Blossom Absolute, Neroli, Rose, Jasmine, Lilly of the Valley
Base notes: Oakmoss, Sandalwood

Refined and restrained beauty like a spirited woman in a tailored suit - Ivoire starts off with business-like manners of soapy cleanliness attached to a bouquet of garden roses and green leaves.
As sharp and soapy as the opening may be, it has an instant effect of cheerful and energetic attitude that is simply charming and uplifting.
And it very quickly softens to reveal dewy roses awakening to rays of sunshine releasing a fresh scent along with crushed grass and softly warming soil and petals.
This breath of fresh garden air remains true throughout the composition, despite of the underlining warmth of leather, cedar, incense and moss.

Ivoire is one of the very few green perfumes that puts a smile on my face. While I find many other green compositions too sharp or melancholy, Ivoire balances beautifully between elegance and warmth.

Well, beware - this is probably one of the most impulsive perfume reviews I ever wrote.I want to apologize in advance if I am going to say anything that is going to upset any potential Sicily followers. But keep in mind that I found myself oddly attracted to Sicily by the scent card alone, and can definitely see it’s charm. To be honest I find myself oddly attracted and repulsed by this relatively new launch from the renowned Italian fashion house.

I liked the soft, fresh, soap like notes of the way it smelled on the card - interesting fresh aldehydic floral, I thought to myself. A lot more old fashioned than I thought is would be. (I suppose I was expecting another quickly-vanishing fruity floral loaded with synthetic citruses?).
It brought some pleasant childhood memories perhaps attached to a type of soap we were using (thought I).
It brought to mind wide marble patio, just washed and all sparkling clean, that moment when you sit down and rest after you cleaned it all up, and everything smells clean and fresh, and there are lemon trees and grapes in the garden. All the Mediterranean (or Sicilian) peaceful and simple beauty.

Well, I tried it on today, and oh my god - and I am now seriously wondering if D&G didn’t make a marketing mistake and put the fragrance in the wrong bottle: it should have been packed as a liquid laundry detergent!
I suspect that if it was a slightly lesser concentration (an EDT or EDC rather than an EDP), it may be a lot more pleasant: not only does it not vanish, it is so potently strong and cloying that I often felt like I may have swallowed soap throughout the first couple of hours of wearing it. It also brings to mind what is described as an old lady perfume (with no offense to anybody who considers herself old - it is not about the age as you know, what I mean to say is - the perfume your most un-favoured old aunt wore when she got all dressed up especially for you and all you could think when getting a hig and a kiss is WHY did she put all that powder on, and what IS this awfully strong smell?).

To be honest, it is not unpleasant, it is just very potent. The notes are actually interesting and nice - lemon, bergamot, peach, some red fruity notes at the heart and perhaps some florals - but everything is extremely synthesized and loaded with aldehydes. And there is a LOT of heliotrope in the base (but really, if it the heliotrope you are looking for, you would be much better of enjoying your l’Heure Bleu!), along with musk and civet I suspect. The dry down is quite subtle and nice, close to the skin and not overwhelming enymore.
A word of caution: If you spray it on your clothes by any chance, don’t expect the scent to ever change or disappear. Try not to do that, other wise the scent will linger on cloyingly. That will promote the effect of soap swallowing.

Habanita brings to mind lonely adventures, and radiates a definite confidence of a man aware of his weaknesses and knowing well how to hide them.
In a far away country, away from his beloved family, and doing everything to make sure they are safe and constantly prove to them that they are loved.
He is keeping a secret, no, many secrets, and the weight is heavy on his shoulders. Yet he shows generosity and is kind to all as much as he can when given the opportunity.

If I could assign any character to this perfume, it would be Alec Lymas, the hero in The Spy who Came in From The Cold. If he ever bothered to put on any perfume before spending hours waiting and smoking packs of cigarettes for his agents to pass the walls separating between Eastern and Western Europe in the long and cold years post World War II - I am sure it would have smelled like Habanita.

Whether if you are a man or a woman, Habanita possesses all the warmth and comfort you need, and can make you feel extremely confident in every possible way.
It’s daring combination of notes makes it extremely masculine and appealing to women at the same time. It is bold and softly enveloping, professional and shamelessly sensual, cool or calculated and warm and passionate all at once!

Though it was designed for women, I find it to be an ideal scent for men (I am definitely going to convince my partner to wear it with me!). For both men and women to wear Habanita would mean being seductive in a dangerous way (and by that I mean an interesting combination of passion and aloofness that perhaps most of us find oddly attractive), sensual and adventurous, mysterious and assertive.
If this is what you are looking for - go for it!

Sniffing it from the bottle, the Habanita top notes are fresh and subtle - a rush of masculine woody notes of mastic (a gum from a Mediterranean bush), juniper berry and cedarwood are accompanied by a generous amount of bergamot, which is citrusy but not in the fruity or eau de cologne sense of citrus - a more refined, green and slightly floral note derived from the bergamot bitter non-edible oranges. This is accentuated by a hint of lavender, which is very subtle and soft, and radiates a certain warmth that is typical to Fougere compositions. Here it is just hinting an adventurous attitude.There is also some leathery, almost smoky note that instantly reminds you of pipe smoke.

The heart note is not quite the main theme in Habanita, but rather assists in bridging between the lighter and somewhat sharper top notes and the dark leather-tobacco base.
The heart has mainly jasmine and rose, which do not make the composition floral in any way. Again, they are there only for harmonizing the blend. There is quite a bit of heliotrope, which has a rich and somewhat powdery vanilla-like aroma, and a bit later you may notice some fruitiness that is quite reminiscent of peach.

The base for Habanita in this case is actually the core and the true heart of the perfume.
A rich tobacco accord, very much like fine Cuban cigar - enriched with full bodied layers of tonka bean and vanilla is the absolute essence of Habanita. It is deepened by a lovely amber, and just hints of oakmoss, musk and perhaps a very tiny amount of vetiver.
The drydown, though still quite the sweet cigar and amber scent, has some chypre and woody qualities to it.

The total impression of Habanita is that of a subtle, skin-reminiscent scent. The kind of fragrance that if worn properly may be soon identified by your surrounding as your own natural scent. In that sense it works similarly to Shalimar on my skin, only it is a bit more balanced as the ambery-vanilla sweetness is there only to balance the bitterness of the leather and tobacco notes (and is no the main theme that some find is overly done in Shalimar).

Top notes: Mastic, Cedarwood, Lavender, Bergamot, a hint of Juniper berry, Leather notes
Heart notes: Jasmine, Rose, Peach, Heliotrope
Base notes: Vanilla, Tobacco, Tonka Bean, Amber, Oakmoss, Musk, Opoponax, Vetiver.

This is a BEAUTIFUL tobacco fragrance. Leathery and dry, yes earthy, warm and softly enveloping.
It is like cuddling with my perfect man. A scent that is natural, fresh and non-obtrusive and with the exact amount of character to make it sexy and irresistibly attractive.
If you can’t get your man to wear it for you, just wear it yourself!

What starts as a medicinal, somewhat harsh drink - reminiscent of Absinthe - extremely masculine and sharp-edged - dries down to a seductive earthy sweetness. Warm, enveloping and sophisticated, Fuilles de Tabac is the emblem of what leathery-tobacco scents should be:
Daring, sensitive, and seductive in a reassuring confident manner.

Notes: Pimento berry, cascarilla bark, pine, sage, tobacco, patchouli and tonka bean.

The pink torso-like bottle with frosted glass suggestive of a corset is quite a good hint for what to expect from JPG EdT: Jean Paul Gautier’s first scent is a sexy, girly scent that is at the same time very easy to wear, soft and enveloping.
Starts off with almost candy-sweet ruch of slightly citrusy top notes, sweetened by the vanilla note that underlines the entire fragrance, and slightly warmed and spiced-up with ginger and star anise.
The heart is rounded and soft, ultra-feminine but not overly floral: to the rose, jasmine, ylang ylang floral sweetness there is an added freshness from the somewhat lighter (though still round and rich) orange blossom absolute. Orris root adds a soft, powdery nuance.
The base is a somwheat powdery vanilla, but basically is vanilla. It is lovely, fun to wear and playful - without being cheap or shallow. And I feel it is absolutely French in the most flirty and sensual way. It is a perfect mood up-lifter and an excellent way to indulge yourself in a flattering but not over-the-top manner. I would say it is best to be worn with pink satin lingerie, but that is just an association - in fact you could wear it anywhere anytime and it will always be apporpriate.

Top notes: Ginger, Star Anise, Mandarin
Heart notes: Ornage Blossom Absolute, Rose, Jasmine, Ylang Ylang
Base notes: Vanilla, Amber, Orris root

When the bottle just opens it’s mouth it shouts: Freedom!

Green galbanum, sage and bergamot are hinting to the Chypre quality of this marvelous perfume. It is going to be a super-multilayered adventure that requires patience and faith.

The green rush fades rather quickly, smoothing itself gradually into an almost powdery combination of jonquil and cedarwood, mellowed and warmed by powdery musk and the Guerlainade - orris root, tonka bean and vanilla. That is what makes the narcissus notes not so heady and overwhelming (reassuringly, this perfume is neither too floral nor overly sweet, especially for the sophisticated and adventurous woman!) - Vol de Nuit is truly a perfume of refinement and an understated, passionate approach to life. In my mind it symbolizes independence and individuality in it’s most truthful meaning - facing adversity all by yourself, and yet remembering who you are.

The smooth, somewhat powdery heart gradually evolves into a more sophisticated Woody-Chypre accord, based on Labdanum and Oakmoss and a noble Agarwood note that lends a somewhat sweet, somewhat sour undertone that is not unlike Mitsouko’s vetiver-agarwood base, but is richer and sweeter.

Than there is the next phase of heart notes - which is definitely the inspiration for Chant d’Aromes in my opinion, as it smells exactly like this lovely, cheerful and spring-like perfume: the fresh white florals (honeysuckly, gardenia, narcissus) over a woody-light musky-chypre base, floral and deeply wamr at once, fresh and young and at the same time thoughtful and deep.

The drydown echoes the earlier impression of the heart accord: woody and musky, with some ambery-vanilla sweetness in the tradition of Guerlain (Which somewhat reminds me of Shalimar - only that Shalimar is a perfume worn to seduce, where as in Vol de Nuit the seduction is more natural and sublte, and almost unintentional - you wear it first of all for yourself - and than come all the other side-effects...).
Like Shalimar, the Vol de Nuit drydown is somewhat resembling a natural skin scent (which is my personal weakness...).

In my mind, Vol de Nuit is associated with the heroic women of the WWII era, namely my dearest grandmother (Vol de Nuit was the romantic gift my beloved grandfather has given her after taking her to the Guerlain boutique in Champs Elysee where she received a personal fragrance consultation). I also associate it (I admit it - a lot of elements in the movie reminded me of “The Little Prince” by the same author of “Vol de Nuit”) - the airplane crashing in the desert) the desert-dwelling British heroine from “The English Patient” (Was her name Katherine?).

Vol de Nuit is rich, complex, mysterious. A perfume that needs to be worn with dignity and self-worth, you can either make it your own, or wonder for years trying to convince it to be worn by you.

Top notes; Galbanum, Bergamot, Sage
Heart notes: Jonquil, Jasmine, Orris Root, Cedarwood, Musk
Base notes: Tonka Bean, Vanilla, Oakmoos, Cedarwood, Agarwood, Labdanum, Oakmoss, Vetiver

Keep in mind that Vol de Nuit stand hand-in-hand with the great Jacques Guerlain creations - l’Heure Bleu and Mitsouko. It can be interpreted in many ways, and has layers upon layers of connotations and essentially it’s own vocabulary. I believe there is always something new to find about it, so don’t be surprised to find me writing another perfume review of it tomorrow that will be quite different.
I remembered it as much darker and floral than it is today. And the EDT I found to be a lot more similar to Shalimar in the drydown note which is musky-vanilla.

Without going too much into the meaning of the name, I would just hint that the sound of it is actually much more attractive than the actual meaning. Perhaps Guerlain overlooked some of the deeper meaning of the name while making their decisions, but nevertheless, this is a beautiful perfume, that have become a modern classic, and is perhaps one of the best creations of Jean-Paul Guerlain, in my opinion. Perhaps the one scent that he will be most significally remembered for.

Perhaps the one thing that characterizes Samsara most of all is its homogenous scent, without being flat or one-dimensional. The theme of Sandalwood-Jasmine accord pervades throughout the composition, but at every stage it has a different nuance to it, which adds interest and depth. In that sense, Samsara is at once simple (a-la the modern linear scents), and complex (because, thanks god, it is NOT linear!).

Samsara is constituted of three major themes: Woody notes (mostly sandalwood), White Florals, and culinary sweetness.

Sweet and fresh fruity top notes of peach and bergamot engages you to explore the creamy, fruity-floral ylang ylang notes. That brings you to the heart of Samsara - a few different types of Indian jasmine (grandiflorum and sambac), with a hint of Orris root in the classical tradition of Guerlain.

The base is dominated by a rich, vanilla-infused woody note of fine Mysore Sandalwood and is further rounded by the warmth of Atlas Cedarwood.

The overall impression is sweet, woody, and subtly floral. It is an ideal for floriental fans, and is excellent for almost all seasons. I find the EDT nicer, where as the Parfum is a bit overly sweet, and for some unknown reason smells more synthetic and somewhat rubbery. The woody-powdery notes are more accentuated in the EDT.

Top notes: Peach, Citrus, Ylang Ylang
Heart notes: Jasmine Sambac, Jasmine Grandiflorum, Orris root
Base notes: Sandalwood, Tonka bean, Amber, Atlas Cedarwood

L’Heure Bleu is another true masterpiece by Jacques Guerlain. I see it as standing hand-in-hand with its sisters Mitsouko and Vol de Nuit. There is certain quality that underlines those three masterpieces and makes them even more than an amazingly beautiful perfume to wear - but truly a work of art.

L’Heure Bleu is sophisticated, dramatic, and yet has a unique melodramatic peacefulness that definitely does not lack reflective, philosophical melancholy.
When you realize, once the last dusky lights are giving themselves away to the first stars, how beautiful the day was, and how wonderful the dark blue night is, and the world is so vast and immeasurable and so full of beauty that it may even make you want to cry.
This moment of beauty is so eternal that it makes you feel your mortality in a painful way. But yet, you are content with yourself and your life that you know if it will be taken from you that moment, you will feel complete and in perfect harmony with the universe.
You breathe in the silent fresh air of your warm, spring garden. The night blooming jasmine is so beautiful and intoxicating. The grass that has been just watered, full of murmurs and insects’ summer-songs. The orange blossom flowers are just folding themselves for a long, peaceful night sleep. You pick a late blooming rose, a deep, velvety-purple rose, her petals already soft after warming up in the sun for a couple of days. You hold the rose and fondle the petals and hold them against your cheeks and sense the warm scent of a mature rose releasing the peak of her last fragrance into the night air...And it is all part of you now, there is no need to hold on to it.

Those beautiful, magical notes interweave with each other so gently that it is hard to tell one from the other. Together they create one impression that in my visual mind reminds me of a very earthy brown colour, though somewhat rich and copper like. I simply cannot see a deep blue when smelling l’Heure Bleu, though the different notes on their own make sense and tell the story of this time of the day:
There are the subtle citrus and anise top notes that are there to accentuate the soft florals, including violet flowers, and link them to the even deeper base notes.
The root of the composition, apparent from first application, is a soft and bittersweet heliotrope, combined with tonka bean that accentuates the softness, yet also possesses the bitter-almond-like undertones. Vanilla and orris root are also present, to support the overall powderiness and soft, mature and philosophical nature of this marvelous perfume.

The drydown is somewhat more smooth and ambery (though it is hard to see l’Heure Bleu as an oriental per se -it has such a unique individuality and perhaps deserves not to be categorized at all.Just like Vol de Nuit and Mitsouko - they don’t quite “fall” into categories I am afraid.)- The drydown is a bit less powdery, with a more vanilla accentuated note. It also has some woody notes in the drydown - I suspect vetiver, but cannot quite pin point it. I will not be surprised to find some oakmoss in it either, though not in a chypre context but an oriental context, and perhaps some underlining spices that are subtle and are not meant to be recognized but rather create a warm undernote to support the rest of the scene.

There is something in it that totally reminds me, surprisingly, of Mitsouko - the fruitiness that is quite dry, bittersweet (dry peach like notes in Mitsouko, and the cherry-like notes in l’Heure Bleu); and a certain dark woodiness at the base that is interesting, mysterious, hard to grasp - but once you get it you are totally captivated!
The fruitiness of l’Heure Bleu lasts much longer though - as it originates in the heliotrope base notes, rather than the peach top notes in Mitsouko (that most people find they fade just a bit too quickly after been exposed.).

Top notes: Bergamot, aniseed
Heart notes: Jasmine, Orange Blossom, Rose, Violet, Carnation, Orris root
Base notes: Heliotrope, Tonka Bean, Vanilla, Vetiver, Woods, Spices

This early and somewhat innocent creation of Jean-Paul Guerlain, Chant d’Aromes interestingly echoes the masterpiece by Jacques Guerlain - Vol de Nuit.

Chant d’Aromes is a delicate floral with subtle, woody-chypre undertones.
Noticeably, Chant d’Aromes has a uniform impression that is carried out throughout the different phases (that is not at all to say that it is a linear fragrance) - the beautiful floral heart notes are apparent from the first stage of the perfume, and gradually mellow down and lead into the more woody, mossy notes.

It immediately reminds me of spring, and of delicate, miniature and frilly garden blossoms - white and cream coloured, primarily honeysuckle, supported by fresh, morning-dew blossoms of gardenia and jasmine - (not the heavy, intoxicating night blooming white blossoms with the tropical fruitiness). The top notes of mandarin, bergamot and peach are only there for a few moments, to introduce the luscious, dew-laden floralness, and disappear with no trace.

This beautiful floral heart gradually reveals some more warmth, just like a fresh garden gradually warmed up by the gentle rays of sun.
To its delicate sweetness there is now some added powderiness, from orris root and the unfolding cedarwood base notes.
It gradually deepens, with a velvety touch of oakmoss, and very minute amount of vetiver, that is light but adds a tiny bit of warm woodiness, along with transparent musk and frankincense notes, and a hint of the almond-like Guerlinade tonka bean accord.

The EDT is true to the parfum, but requires many reapplications. The parfum is not much heavier, just slightly richer and most significantly - has a more satisfactory staying power.

Top notes: Peach, Bergamot, Mandarin
Heart notes: Gardenia, Honeysuckle, Jasmine, Orris root
Base notes: Cedarwood, Musk, Oakmoss, Frankincense, Vetiver, Tonka bean

This wonderful and timeless Chypre is as smooth and as round as could be, so well orchestrated that the different notes blend in harmoniously and act together rather than compete with one another or "show off". It is young and sophisticated at the same time, therefore appealing to women of all ages that are seeking a classic, refined expression of their feminine self, without feeling overly girly...
Though different olfactory stages and notes can be detected, they are not as pronounced or separated from one another. Rather, they lead to another with a harmonious continuation that makes the complete experience magical and seductive. Which is, after all, the secret for the charisma and sex-appeal of Chypres - the way they blend different notes without leaving too-obvious hints as for what they really are.
You know the notes are in there, but you smell them all at once, singing in one beautiful accord!
The top notes of galbanum, gardenia and citrus are accompanied by no other that the relatively harsh herbal notes of sage which surprisingly converts the top note accord into a peach-like fruitiness. The top notes appear fresh and soft simultaneously, and lift up the Chypre nuances of patchouli and labdanum from the base.
Once the initial green frutiness has mellowed, Miss Dior reveals her round, feminine floral heart of jasmine, neroli and rose, completely balanced as no note is dominating the other.
This all dries down to a base accord of a warm and somewhat wild Chypre accord: patchouli, oak moss, labdanum, and I suspect some civet notes which contributes to the roundedness and fullness that links the phases altogether. Some refined, subtle woody notes of vetiver and agarwood appear late on, adding a clean, somewhat “sour” nuance, neither making the composition dry or bitter by the half, nor taking away from it’s overall luscious femininity.
The Parfum is a lot more fruity and round than the Eau de Toilette - the sharp (almost metallic lead-like) top notes are softened and smoothed to resemble somewhat the citrus and almost peach-like fruitiness found in the top notes of Diorella - a lighter Chypre from the same house.
It is definitley a must for all Chypre fans!

Top notes: Galbanum, Sage, Gardenia
Heart notes: Jasmine, Rose, Neroli
Base notes: Patchouli, Oakmoss, Labdanum

Diorissimo is the essence of spring, and as it’s creator has said,



Diorissimo is a true masterpiece by Roudniska.
It is the only Lily of the Valley scent that truly captures the scent of the flower without smelling overly synthetic and shallow. It has more depth to it than most florals have...
Diorissimo is the essence of spring...
It was designed to capture the essence of the Lily of the Valley blossoms as well as the forest where they grow... It creates an amazingly cheerful and positive, youthful aura when wearign it. I think it is a "good mood" fragrance!

The notes in it are more complex than you would think.
Top notes: Galbanum, Calyx
Heart notes: Lily of the Valley, Boronia, Rose
Base notes: Jasmine, Sandalwood, Civet

In the EDT you will mainly smell the galbanum, boronia, lily of the valley and jasmine.
The parfum has a more deep and less single-floral feel to it. The rose and jasmine are more dominant and the boronia works really well in accentuating thei green and fresh spring qualities.
Also, I detected certain amount of oakmoss in the base. It is very very subtle - but I think it does what it needs to do. I used to like the EDT much better, abut now I prefer the parfum.

Top notes: Green Glabanum notes
Heart notes: Lilly of the Valley, Boronia, Calyx, Rose
Base notes: Jasmine, Sandalwood, Civet

The whisper of a summer wind stirring the luscious treetop of an evergreen tropical tree. The large shiny healthy-green leaves gently murmur a tale of warm delight.

Addict is a fragrance of abundance and is soothing, comforting and refreshing.
It is deep and calming, indulgently rich with the fragrant gum resin of benzoin, which is the dominant note throughout the composition. It is creamy-vanilla like, but not in the gourmand context (though it is mouthwatering in many ways!).
The benzoin is supported by some other woody and balsamic notes to give it its amazingly effective characteristics of a woody vanilla-scented refreshing perfume.

Top notes of budha wood (a slightly smoky and more dry sandalwood-like wood) and subtle green-leafy notes; extremely subtle heart notes of rose and jasmine which later on develop into a luscious and irresistible creamy gardenia petals. The deepest root of this tropical tree is the benzoin accord, supported by vanilla and woody notes.
Addict is rich, creamy, indulgent, and very refreshing.

Whilst expecting Addict to be a dark, vamp fragrance, I found it to be completely harmless, and oddly fresh and vibrant and warm all at once. I do feel that there is something in the name though: the subteley of benzoin (which here is exemplified by synthetics to give it a more diffusive power - the actual benzoin has a very subtle scent that is hardly noticeable when other notes are added) - it just calls you for smelling it more, and more and more - and yet it never feels enough! The scent is deep and subtle,a and never quite overwhelming.
I think it is a lovely perfume and should make a perfect scent for oriental lovers who are looking for something lighter but do not want to part with a sweet vanillic scent.It will make a perfect scent for summer and for daytime - and can be worn in any occasions. I doubt anybody will find this subtle seducer offensive or unwelcome.


Top notes: Budha wood, Green leaves
Heart notes: Rose, Gardenia
Base notes: Benzoin, Vanilla, Woods

If a spring of glacier water could be bottled in a perfume flacon - it would definitely smell like Spring Flower. It makes me wonder if “spring” refers to the season or to the body of water. I would say it could equally apply to both, with its fresh and simple happy early-bird attitude, as if nothing too exciting or dramatic needs to happen today to make your day complete. Fresh, optimistic and tranquil with no unnecessary ambition - this is what makes this wonderful array of subtle fruity and citrus notes, along with transparent florals, floating like water lilies above the glacial freshwater, and there is just a hint of sweetness at the base to keep the scent going, cool and fresh and lovely. The spring waters just keep flowing generously and vividly!

Spring Flower starts off with a blast of fresh, citrus-fruity notes of lemon, bergamot and peach. There is also a hint of herbal note, almost minty. It is charmingly refreshing and positive. The thing is, that this fresh beauty lasts for a long time!
The heart and base notes still maintain this luscious fruitiness, along with delicate flowers that are neither heavy nor heady, but simply reminiscent of fresh, dew-laden blossom in an early spring morning. Though officially the notes are of jasmine and rose, to my nose it smells like waterlilies. Perhaps it is the combination of the rose and jasmine notes with the crisp apple and watery melon notes that create this light, bright and fluid impression.
The feeling is of inviting cool spring water, so inviting you absolutely have to drink them!
Later on notes of lilly of the valley and a citrus floral note emerges - it is not orange blossom, but actually smells a lot like lemon. Perhaps it is lemon blossom.
The drydown is a tad powdery, with the lilly and melon notes lingering on a base of cedarwood and perhaps a hint of orris. It is only slightly powdery, but still has the fruity floral notes.

Top notes: Peach, Lemon, Bergamot, and I suspect a hint of peppermint!
Heart: Jasmine, Rose, Water lilies, Melon, Apple, Lilly of the Valley, Lemon Blossom
Base: Cedarwood, orris, perhaps benzoin which adds a tad of sweetness without overpowering the top and heart notes, and very subtle musk, amber and vanilla notes.

If any perfume should ever claim to be a truly fresh, transparent floral, Creed’s Spring Flower is the one, and it does it all the way!
It is the one and only modern floral scent I tried so far that actually stands up to its top-notes premise:
It is bright and fresh, and stays that way after interacting with my skin, without giving in to harsh, stingy powdery smelling chemicals that usually tickle my nose in a most annoying and disappointing way. That is what makes it so convincingly appealing. Spring Flower is like freshwater pearls - it is soft, bright and subtly feminine in a playful, young and modestly attractive way, and simply stays the same, no matter what the surroundings are... Now here is where I totally understand the attractiveness of fresh, light floral! And how sexy can that be!
The lovely fruity, floral and watery notes linger and linger for long time, and stay fresh all the way!
You don’t need any particular reason to put Spring Flower on - fresh morning feeling that can last all day. And can be reapplied at night for a nice romantic evening.

No. 5 has become an institution - and as such it is sometimes hard to actually enjoy it as a perfume.
However, a close look at the genius construction of the Parfum Extrait reveals a harmony that deserves more attention besides being a classic or a trend setter.

It is actually a work of art in the same way that Chanel’s fashion design has reached the heights of being an art form and at the same a concrete, useful piece of clothing.
To prove so, one must re-think it without being bound to olfactory memories and collective subconscious schemes that evolved around this perfume in the last 8 decades or so of its existence (i.e. the first perfume-fashion association; confident business women in pinstripe suits, Marilyn Monroe’s bedtime fragrance, etc. etc.).

A woman should wear No. 5 as if it was created for her alone, and she was the first woman on earth to wear it.

No. 5 is a truly feminine perfume, and is not bound to anything else but pure feminine beauty. It contains flowers, but does not smell quite like a flower garden. I believe Ernest Beaux definitely fulfilled Chanel’s dream of creating a perfume that will help women to smell like themselves, not like a flowers.

To my nose, No. 5 smells sweet and ambery, and is both sensual and seductive in a subtle and sophisticated way. The most dominant accord that comes forward on my particular skin is that of ylang ylang, amber and civet. It radiates a feminine warmth that when worn with confidence can be highly appreciated and enjoyed by both the woman who wears it and the people that are allowed to be close enough to smell her.


Top: Aldehydes, Bergamot, Rosewood, Neroli
Heart; Ylang ylang, Rose, Jasmine
Base: Amber, Civet, Sandalwood, Vetiver

This perfume is full of surprises, very rich and multilayered!
It's one of my favourite perfumes of all times.
It starts off with what you may describe as a classical oriental:
Olibanum (Frankincense), Myrrh, Cinnamon and Spices, with a dark, voluptuous dried rose as the main reconciler between all.
This is not an overwhelmingly strong oriental, though; the overall feeling is soft, warm, sensual, very calming in fact.
Just as you settled into this oriental dream and thought this is it- the rose decides to change her mind and become a young and fresh flower again!
The green impression is achieved by the notes of orris root and violet leaf, added in just the right amount.
This floral heart sings with a full spring-like glory for hours, and than comes the dry down:
The orris root and violet notes decide to take over, and you may think for a while that there is no more rose... It is mainly a powdery, soft impression, with a tiny bit of vanilla to make it even smoother... And if you pay attention, yu will hear the rose still singing in there, very quite and blended in witht he rest of the notes, as if it is there just to give company to the orris notes...
The dry down is interestingly combining the soft and violet-like, powdery aspect of the orris, as well as the woody, clean and somewhat fresh face it can put up.
It has an amazing lasting power, without being even a little bit intrusive or overwhelmingly strong. It makes a statement without shouting it, and blends beautifully with your own personal scent.

Although the name suggests it to be a night-invoking perfume, I find it extremely summer-like and full of light.
It starts off with a citrus splash of bergamot and tangerine, backed up with a feminine floral notes of jasmine, and a more masculine eau-de-cologne like notes of orange blossoms and a hint of musk, that adds sensuality to that blast of freshness.
As the top notes start to fade, they reveal a luscious fruity note of peach supported by vanilla, which gradually pushes away the dominant orange-blossom and tangerine accord.
The dry down gradually enters with an interesting and surprising accord dominated by a fresh, woody and masculine vetiver notes, accompanied by green notes, orange blossom (softer and more subtle now), and a very modest hint of vanilla and rose!
This perfume is full of surprises, I love the way the stages fade into each other! The overall impression is of freshness and vivacity.

This scent is so repetitive and flat and boring the only thing I can compare it to is dancing in a rave to monotonous virtual rythms.
You must be totally stoned or drunk to be able to even pretend you enjoy it.

In the midst of an artificial perfume collection, dominated by computer generated fragrances, Calvin Klein’s Obsession stands out, being a modern Oriental that is surprisingly charming. Obsession appeals to the young generation of impulsive, simplicity-seeking youth as well as “grown ups” with style that haven’t yet completely repressed their sensuality for the sake of synthetic class.

It’s intense appeal is derived from an interesting approach combining heavy and rich natural essences such as oakmoss and frankincense, with an added touch of modern sparkle that is almost deceivingly perceived as fresh and “light” by distracted, uneducated noses.

It starts with quite a blast of summer-like sparkle of tangerines and mandarins, beautifully melted into an ice-cream like note of intensely artificial vanilla.
This accord is sweet and fresh at once, almost like a creamsickle.

The heart, though floral, still possesses the charming contrast of sweet floral notes with some tanginess: heady jasmine mellowed and balanced by the citrus-invoking floral note of Orange Blossom absolute. It is backed up by a warm accord of light sandalwood.

The base contains an interesting dosage of oakmoss that is dry and synthetically modified, to create an almost spicy impression reminiscent of allspice berry and of cyclamen.
It is accompanied by frankincense and is heavily backed up with notes of vanilla and fresh-smelling, radiant amber, which will end up dominating the dry down without compromise.

Obsession is fun to wear, and is quite versatile. Though classified as an oriental, it has certain quality to it that makes it suitable to wear also in more casual settings, and in mild and even warm weather.


Top notes: Mandarin, Tangerines
Heart notes: Orange blossom, Jasmine, Sandalwood
Base notes: Vanilla, Amber, Frankincense, Oakmoss

Vent Vert is a perfume with one clear statement: Green!

The experience starts with a heady breeze of green notes: freshly cut grass, clary sage and galbanum, and a slight suggestion of patchouli. This definite green statement pervades throughout all stages of the olfactory evolution of this magnificent perfume, which has become, with no doubt, the symbol and example for anything green thanks to its youthful, spring-like and independent nature.

Once the initially sharp green blow has made it’s statement, it allows other notes to accompany this spring experience: a surprising accord of
peach and gardenia is the bridge from the top notes to the more floral hear notes:
Green Rose, lilly of the valley and fresh Jasmines float amongst the greenery, as well as orange blossom absolute, with its fresh and fuity refined-citrus nuance.
These floral notes are here to beautify and accentuate the herbal notes of clary sage and galbanum, the theme that will stay with us till the very last dryout stages, when spring has become more warm, and will accept more blooming flowers.
The overall bouquet can very much be likened to the lilly of the valley flower, both in scent and appearance: the little white flowers reveal themselves gently through the wide, elegant green leaves.

This herbal-green-floral bouquet is supported by base notes that are not any less green: green oakmoss, vetiver (a woody-earthy-green root of a tropical grass), and sandalwood.
The basenotes are dominated by the woody notes of sandalwood and vetiver. But still, it acts only as a garden-bed for the green accord of clary sage and galbanum which leads the theme of Vent Vert.

And than come the drydown stage, which combines the elements of all stages:
A softer note that is mainly a result of the melting down of galbanum, green jasmine, ornage blossom, orris (that can reveal it’s delicate, woody-powedry softness once the sharper edge has evaporated..) and the woody sandalwood-vetiver accord, all clean and green and fresh, but just softly fading away, with the promise of warmer days and more blossoms to come.

Vent Vert is green all the way. Keeping in mind that it was the trend-setter for Floral Green perfume, in an era when femininity was associated with much more floral and heavy notes, Vent Vert was revolutionary is the way it used green herbal notes as the theme, and the florals were merely supporting the green ones. I simply can’t thnk of any other perfume that does it better!
Vent Vert is fresh without being citrusy, green without being herbal and medicinal, and has those whispering powdery notes without making it melancholy or sentimental. It is simply pure happiness, vivacity and youthfulness in a bottle!


Top:
Fresh cut grass
Green Rose
(Clary sage)
Galbanum
Patchouli
Peach
Gardenia

Heart:
Rose
Jasmine
Clary sage
Lilly of the Valley
Orris root

Base:
Vetiver
Sandalwood
Clary sage

You simply cannot apply this perfume without noticing the vessel that contains it.
It radiates a Goth passion, a combination of lust and cruelness: the metal rounded quarter of an egg shaped lead coloured metal in contrast to the blood-red transparent glass within which beats the heart of a contemporary classic. (Which without hardly any doubt Kingdom is working it’s way up to - due to packaging or scent - but only time will say).

It think this perfume, whether if you like it or not, speaks for the technological-oriented era, when emotions are deeply repressed and condensed into shapes and sometimes find their way out in a quite grotesque fashion.

The juice itself is controversial: starts off as equally animalic and fresh: the cumin theme is immediately recognizable in the top notes, and is accompanied by mild green notes of bergamot and galbanum. The cumin fades to the background quickly, to make room for the light floral heart of soft rose and the green, citrus floralness of Neroli.

The pure Neroli cleanliness hints us to track down the base notes:
Sandalwood notes from the base notes become apparent fairly quickly and are quite fresh, rather than incense like. It almost radiates a masculine freshness, and is very natural.
Gradually the whole concoction warms up and a vanilla-amber note emerges, though very subtle. Not quite the sugared gourmand type vanilla, but a perfume-oriented one. The cumin note is now very delicate, and is in the background simply to add a sensuous, animal roundness to the composition.

After the huge expectations set out by the packaging and the advertising campaign, I must admit I expected this perfume to be a lot more intense and sultry. Yes, the cumin hints that, but overall I found Kingdom to be a rather clean, almost a single-note sandalwood fragrance. I find it to be a lot more masculine than feminine, and I think it will work really well with some masculine sweat.
I am curious to learn how the parfum smells like - I would hope somewhat darker and deeper, more outstandingly erotic.
I personally perceive this fragrance as much more suitable for men and would not be surprised if a masculine body chemistry will create some wonderful transformations to it.
In that case, the nymph-like women from Kingdom’s ad campaign will have the role of seduction to the potential wearer, rather than setting up an example to live up to.

Top notes: Cumin, Galbanum, Bergamot
Heart notes: Rose, Neroli, Jasmine
Base notes: Sandalwood, Vanilla

Dzing! is a deceptive perfume. Said to be inspired by the Circus world, it brings to mind a circle of fire and some delightful scents of smoke, burnt cotton-candy. It has an entrance of an outrageous acrobat, with colourful leather and feathers outfit, escaping from the tigress that jumps into the fire ring!

It is colourful, spicy, and a lot of fun!
If you like the ambivalent sweetness of leather and smoke, and enjoy having a bit of masculine kick in your “drink” than Dzing! has quite the right zesty touch.
With top notes that are deceivingly floral - rose and orris, with a touch of smoky cade; heart notes that are spicy and warm (mainly cinnamon and styrax) and a base that is equally sweet and smoky as a result of mingling sweet gum of benzoin and peru balsam along with castoreum, birch tar and perhaps some tobacco.

Top notes: Cade (Leather notes), Rose, orris,
Heart notes: Styrax, cinnamon
Base notes: Balck tea, benzoin, Peru balsam, Leather notes (castoreum and birch tar)

I haven't quite tried this for a very long period of time. It starts off coniferous - with the black hemlock as in Ormonde (for women), but than dries down to a tolu balsam base note or something similar to Dior Addict.
I didn't find it particularly interesting - but I didn't give it enough chance. I will need to come back later and review it again.
My boyfriend wasn't impressed with it either.

This exotic name is no more than the Philippine name for Jasmine Sambac. Here is it accompanied with lychee and grass oil top notes, which makes it sweet and almost cloying and backed up with patchouli the result is quite reminiscent of the hippie era...
This opening accord (sambac, lychee, grass oil, patchouli) is actually quite pleasant on its own and is awfully familiar - however soon a superficial water lily note interferes and makes the scent somewhat irritating for me.
Definitely an interesting scent to try - but I don't find myself reaching for the sample very often. Also, once I apply it I usually want to switch to something else pretty fast.
I love the name of that perfume - it sound romantic, exotic, mysterious and sweet.

Top notes: Lychee, Grass Oil, Bergamot, Magnolia
Heart notes: Sampaquita Absolute (Jasmine Sambac), Freesia, Muguet, Rose, Water Lily
Base notes: Musk, Vetiver, Moss, Ambrette Seed, Pathchouli

A light and much less creamy interpretation of the magical tropical paradise flower.
Starts with a breath of citrus and with linden blossom which quickly gives away to the green-waxy scent of the pure frangipani absolute. It does have some hints of the fresh flower - but they are quite subtle.
There are some water lilies at the heart which makes it light and modern as well as jasmine which adds some richness and depth - but it never quite gets very creamy. It is rather a light and quite heady floral - but the type of heady floral that those who are scared of heady florals will like or at least be able to tolerate (like me...).
Definitely worth a try!
I think it will be especially great for the summer - a light floral that is interesting and not cloying.

Top notes: Linden Blossom, Magnolia Flower, Lime Peel
Heart notes: White Frangipani Absolute, Jasmine, Rose absolute, Tuberose absolute,
Water Lily, Plum, Green Orchid oil
Base notes: Camber, Musk, Cedar, French Vanilla absolute

Desert roses surrounded by dry dates and spicy saffron.
It is sensual yet subtle, captivating and refined.
The drydown is powdery-vanilla, and surprisingly reminiscent of Tocade!
It can be an interesting and refreshing alternative for Parfum Sacre in that it is a sexy, spicy-powdery rose with a sweet base.
It simply makes me feel special when I wear it - as Parfum Sacre does to me.
Harmonious and balanced, like a desert wind approaching the sea at sunset. This perfume gives a feeling of golden rays gently touching your face just before the sun goes down, with wind kissing it with dusty spices.

Top notes: Orange blossom, pink peer, saffron, dates, white peach
Heart notes: Ta’if roses, freesia, lily of the valley, jasmine
Base notes: Amber, Tonka Bean, Musk, Vanilla Absolute

Definitely the most boring and insignificant of the collection.
It is a citrus woody with hints of florals that are hard to detect. I cannot find the osmanthus notes there at all but than again it could be my body chemistry playing tricks on me.
It is very similar to the Creeds in my opinion - something metallic in there. The base is woods with light musk.
My favourite part of the perfume is the beginning -though I wished the Pomelo note was more true to the real fruit. I found this one quite anemic in comparison to the rest of the Ormonde Jayne line.

Top notes: Pomelo, Davana, Pimento
Heart notes: Osmanthus absolute, Water Lily, Jasmine Sambac
Base notes: Cedar Wood, Labdanum Resin, Musk, Vetiver

The exotic, tea-like champaca notes remain true to the original throughout the composition. Accompanied by basmati rice, the champaca-basmati-tea accord is prominent throughout the fragrance evolution.
It starts off with a hint of fruity citrus freshness that is backed up strongly by the champaca and basmati notes. These are warm, enveloping and comforting (just like a bowl of whole-grain basmati rice in a beautiful and fragrant Zen-inspired restaurant).
It is a gourmand scent (the basmati and green tea notes are very apparent!), but in a sophisticated way which makes it smell actually woody. It reminds one of the beauty of mundane aromatics and pours a different light on them...

Top notes: Neroli, Pink Pepper, Bamboo
Heart notes: Champaca, Freesia absolute, Basmati Rice
Base notes: Myrrh, Green Tea, Musk

This is quite a surprise. It starts off with a foresty black hemlock note (which is also apparent in the masculine version of the scent). However, this is no usual woody scent. In fact, it is a mysterious and subtle violet scent!
The violets here are very dark, as if hidden in the shades of the forest. The final drydown is quite sweet - almost like an oriental.
An interesting and versatile fragrance that can be very individual when it finds its match!

Top notes: Cardamom, Coriander, Grass Oil
Heart notes: Black Hemlock, Violet, Jasmine Absolute
Base notes: Vetiver, Cedar Wood, Amber, Sandalwood

Rich, deep, resinous ambery scent.
Starts with an extreme dominance of Tolu (which at first may make you think there is nothing else there). To those who are not familiar with the scent - it is a dark, thick balsam that smells like a combination of vanilla, cinnamon and cloves. It is very warm and sweet, and thicker than molasses!
The tolu is accompanied by some herbal notes that are very subtle (the notes state juniper), and than transforms into a total-ambery experience, honeyed with broom at full bloom - yellow, luscious and sweet to the last breath.
It is perhaps one of the more pleasant amber perfumes I ever smelled - without being boring, overly sweet or overwhelming (=nauseous). May be a good alternative for those who find Ambre Sultan too masculine. However, I did find it a bit linear after the initial top notes have faded away. My most favourite part of it was the broom-like top notes which reminded me of a certain broom-related thorny bush that blooms in spring and intoxicates the air with it’s heady and narcotic and slightly honeyed fragrance.

Top notes: Juniper Berry, Orange Blossom, Clary Sage, Broom
Heart notes: Orchid, Moroccan Rose, Muguet
Base: Tolu Balsam, Tonka Bean, Golden Frankincense, Amber