Hermès Hermessences 5: Vanille Galante and Ambre Narguilé

At long last we've reached the home stretch in my quest to whittle the Hermessence list down by ~50%. Today's contenders are Vanille Galante and Ambre Narguilé, which coincidentally are the most and the least mercurial perfumes (respectively) of this series, according to my nose. My general impression of Vanille Galante has not changed one bit over the course of several wearings, while my perspective on Ambre Narguilé continues to change, even after having worn it many times by now!

HERMESSENCE VANILLE GALANTE (2009)

Every single time that I've worn Vanille Galante, I've been reminded of a variety of ylang-heavy perfumes, above all Guerlain Aqua Allegoria Ylang et Vanille. The strong ylang emphasis has also occasionally evoked vague memories of a recent testing of E. Coudray Nohiba—although it offers a very different line-up of notes. 

I decided to do a side-by-side comparison between the 2009 Hermessence and the 1999 Guerlain and discovered that I very much prefer the latter creation. I believe that it is now discontinued, and unlikely to be launched again—at least not in its original state—so I feel fortunate to have a big bottle of that beautiful perfume which, being among the first Aqua Allegoria launches, captured the spirit of nature in a bottle while still being a reasonably complex perfume—by which I mean complex enough to smell like a fully composed perfume rather than a simple combination of a couple of notes.

Vanille Galante smells less elegant to my nose somehow. It's certainly not a bad fragrance, but something about the proportions of vanilla and ylang is less than harmonious to my nose. There is also something slightly jarring in this mix. It's not sour or anything like that, but something does not sit well with me. I cannot pinpoint exactly what it is, but suffice it to say that I simply do not feel comfortable wearing this perfume, and I was not sorry to reach the end of my generous 4ml sample. 

I very much appreciate that Hermès provides the opportunity with such large samples to really get to know a perfume before springing for a big bottle—or even a purse spray. This empowers consumers to have more control over the dispensation of their perfume wallet share, permitting them to go beyond the "passing acquaintance stage" before, not after, acquiring a bottle. After wearing 4ml of a perfume, one has a sound basis for making a purchase, which is obviously much better than relying on hearsay or a skimpy sample and risking buyer's remorse later on down the line.

In this case, the conclusion pointed the other way, but I do believe that it comes down to a matter of taste. There are tons of vanilla perfumes, and I should make clear that this one does stand out from the crowd by not smelling at all like vanilla extract! To my nose, the ylang seems to be amplified by something in this composition. Green notes? Lily? Don't know. One thing is for sure: anyone considering adding this fragrance to his or her collection needs to be aware that ylang-ylang looms very large here, at least as large as vanilla, and so much that I myself think that a better name for this particular composition would have been Ylang Galant!

Perfumer: Jean-Claude Elléna

Notes: Spices, Green notes, Lily, Sandalwood, Vanilla, Ylang-ylang (from www.parfumo.net)

HERMESSENCE AMBRE NARGUILE (2004)

My history of Ambre Narguilé appreciation has taken many turns, but somehow never for the worse. The first sample I tested was sent to me by a generous fellow fragrance traveler who graciously shared her large 4ml test tube with me. I do not know why, but that sample was considerably darker and more viscous than the one I received directly from the house. At the time of my first review, I was comparing this perfume to Tom Ford oriental perfumes, which seems way off at this point, but that was what I found: thick and golden, luscious labdanum amber. My fresh sample is clear and only very lightly colored.

Over the course of my most recent testings of Ambre Narguilé, I've read a number of reviews in which this creation is compared favorably—or not—to a variety of desserts, including both apple pie and plum pudding! I have to say that I was initially taken aback by the comparison to apple pie. However, I must nonetheless confess that in quick, evanescent wafts, I, too, have had a few Ambre Narguilé apple pie moments! They escape quickly, after which I find the spices less like dessert and more like a complex oriental perfume, but I have indeed experienced—if ever so briefly—what so many other reviewers have claimed to be the essence of this creation.

In contrast to my first experience, I no longer find that Ambre Narguilé is much of a labdanum amber perfume, nor do I detect much in the way of ambergris, though it is listed among the notes. This is why, despite my esteem for this sui generis composition, I did not include it in my Varieties of Amber Experience series. I now find that it has a woody, smoky feeling which also keeps it pretty far from gourmand territory.

Overall, I'd say that this perfume is complex enough to be many different things to many different people, and even to the same person under different testing conditions—as has been amply demonstrated in my own case. Never a dull or an ugly moment, though. This one is full-bottle worthy.

Perfumer: Jean-Claude Elléna

Notes: Ambergris, Benzoin, Honey, Ginger, Caramel, Coumarin, Labdanum, Musk, Rum, Sesame, Tonka bean, Vanilla, Frankincense, White orchid, Cinnamon (from www.parfumo.net)

Conclusion of series:

On my wishlist for full bottles are Ambre Narguilé and Paprika Brasil. On my wishlist for the set of four 15ml purse sprays: Iris Ukiyoé, Vétiver Tonka, Poivre Samarcande, and Santal Massoïa. I recommend the entire series for sniffing by those who appreciate fine and subtle compositions.

Merci Jean-Claude Elléna!

Hermès Hermessences 4: Osmanthe Yunnan and Santal Massoïa

It was a hot summer, not one conducive to the appreciation of fine and subtle scents such as the Hermès Hermessences. Things have now cooled down, however—at least momentarily—so I'm back at last to wrap up this series! Today I'm covering the two members of the Hermessences about which I have not changed my mind at all since my first testing of them a while back. Well, maybe just a little...

HERMESSENCE OSMANTHE YUNNAN (2005)

I may have mentioned somewhere before that I am not that keen on yunnan tea, despite being an avid tea drinker in general. It's definitely more inviting to me than, say, pu-erh—but yunnan is a kind of meh tea experience for me. Small wonder, then, that my least favorite of the Hermessences turns out to be this one. This may simply be a case of “familiarity breeds...” well, not exactly contempt, since I do not positively dislike wearing this fragrance. Still, I don't dream about it. The tea note is far more marked than the osmanthus, which to me is the tofu of flowers anyway, basically soaking up the flavor of whatever it is with. In this case, that would be yunnan tea.

Yes, to my nose, Osmanthe Yunnan is practically a yunnan tea facsimile perfume. Unlike Poivre Samarcande, which gives off ever-so tiny wafts of the effect of an Assam black tea (though the composition apparently contains no tea), Osmanthe Yunnan explicitly claims to feature and does in fact, as advertised, convey the literal scent of yunnan tea. There are other notes listed, but to me this is a virtual facsimile. Wearing this fragrance makes me feel as though I just took a soak in a bathtub filled with yunnan tea.

To wear yunnan tea as a fragrance, or not to wear yunnan tea as a fragrance? That is the question. When it comes time to drink tea, I much prefer darjeeling or assam or sencha or... But, to be perfectly frank (quoi d'autre?), I'm not sure that I am all that interested in smelling like yunnan. It's a slightly smokey smell, yes, but in the end, it's yunnan tea. 

Osmanthe Yunnan is certainly wearable, but I find it considerably less compelling than the other Hermessence perfumes... It is always possible that I am hyposmic to osmanthus, so I do not want to dissuade others from trying this creation!

Perfumer: Jean-Claude Elléna

Notes: orange, tea, freesia, osmanthus, apricot, leather (from Parfumo.net)

HERMESSENCE SANTAL MASSOIA (2011)

This is by far the nicest sandalwood-centric perfume I've smelled in recent history—if not ever—and there have been many since sweet sandalwood somehow became designated as “the juice” from which to start many a designer launch. 

Am I right to assume that we are talking about sandalwood here, and not some synthetic surrogate? Not sure, to be honest, but this is certainly a far cry from the sour and sorry excuse for sandalwood which forms the basis of far too many mediocre mainstream designer fragrances. Some perfume consultant must be telling designers who are in the market for an eponymous fragrance that “sandalwood-vanilla is a wonderful combination!” Unfortunately, by now it's pretty hackneyed as an idea, and the execution is just not very good, I gather because of the sandalwood shortage. That and the vat production of chemical soup.

The sweetness in this perfume appears not to be due to vanilla (the usual suspect), but there's enough sugar in this composition to make it closer to an oriental than a woody perfume. Some gents therefore may find Santal Massoïa too feminine—but not by much. I would call this a unisex scent, and I have no doubt that more sophisticated gentlemen perfume lovers could wear this well. In the drydown, I detect an emergent pseudo-woody fig quality which may or may not appeal to some wearers. But it does to me!

The quasi-coconut milk note (apparently constructed from massoia and “milk”) adds creaminess but not the scent of coconut, which will be good news for those who eschew suntan lotion and monoi facsimiles. Santal Massoïa is a very simple perfume. If you like natural-smelling, slightly sweet and creamy sandalwood, then you'll like this scent. It's not a complex or provocative perfume. Its beauty lies in its sheer simplicity. This creation wears very well, and in my quest to whittle the Hermessence list down to five, I have to select this one over Osmanthe Yunnan.

Perfumer: Jean-Claude Elléna

Notes: Massoia wood, sandalwood, milk, dried fruits (from Parfumo.net)

Hermès Hermessences 3: Brin de Réglisse and Vétiver Tonka

In today's episode of my ongoing Jean-Claude Elléna love fest (see Hermessences 1, Hermessences 2, and The Alchemy of Scent), I consider two of the Hermessence perfumes which did not go over that well with me the first time I tried them. Since then, I have discovered the real reason why the house samples of this line contain a generous 4ml. To know the Hermessences is to love them and, as is the case with any successful relationship, that takes some time—and milliliters.

The beautiful, sleek vials in which the Hermessence samples arrive are a pleasure to behold, but the truth is that the liquids inside play out much more beautifully when sprayed than when dabbed. Fortunately, a while back I ordered a supply of atomizers and have been pouring my Hermessence samples into those vessels so that I can get a full sense of the complexity of these creations. “Hand decanting,” as they say in the gray market trade, is easier said than done in this case because Hermès topped its thin, lengthy, test-tube-like vials with childproof openings so that consumers do not accidentally spill 4mls all over themselves. They really thought of everything, didn't they?

Well, not quite. Like how about selling sample sets? These ones I found inordinately difficult to come by because my initial email request must have made me sound like an ebay hawk or reasonable facsimile. I believe that I listed the Hermès perfumes beloved to and owned by me, and expressed an interest in trying the Hermessence line. Everything I said was true, but I must have tried too hard. Or perhaps my request just fell through the cracks?

All I know for sure is that it took me more than a year to collect all ten of the Hermessence vials, which I offered to buy from the beginning, but Hermès does not sell its samples. Instead, they give them away, after which some of them end up at certain unmentionable websites going for $25 each. Sad, if you ask me. Hermès could do all of us a big favor and sell comprehensive sample sets to interested consumers, thereby putting an end once and for all to the shameless unlicensed re-selling of their lovely perfumes. Just an idea.

HERMESSENCE 

BRIN DE REGLISSE (2007)

My initial encounter with Brin de Réglisse left me seriously wondering whether I really wanted to smell like Panda Black Licorice with Herbs. It's a delightful product, no doubt one of the national export treasures of Finland, and I am a major consumer of all-natural, black-as-night licorice. So what's not to like?

It's true that I do not always like lavender notes in perfumes, so one potential problem with this creation for me was not the licorice but the lavender. What I found, however, was that the overall effect of the scent veered too close to the “perfume” produced through filling my mouth with Panda all-natural Black Licorice with Herbs and chewing, savoring the black juice as it is produced.

I find in general that smelling identical to a food item which I love to consume is not usually a recipe for perfume success in my book. I'm certainly not one to say that every perfume which yields a facsimile of a scent in my olfactory memory bank is necessarily a masterpiece. Some scents really belong where they are, in situ, right there where they are produced in nature. The scent of Panda Black licorice dissolving in my mouth is, I concluded, one of them.

However, I have found this time around that by spritzing rather than dabbing Brin de Réglisse, many formerly hidden layers begin to peel off one another, making me recognize that this is not a Panda licorice facsimile scent after all. There is a gentle woodiness in this composition, and the lavender turns out to help, not to hurt the potent black licorice juice. I am not a complete convert yet, but after spritzing my way through a 15ml purse spray—my next step—I may be. Stay tuned...

Perfumer: Jean-Claude Elléna

Notes: lavender, floral notes, orange blossom, hay, licorice (from Parfumo.net)

HERMESSENCE 

VETIVER TONKA (2004)

Vétiver Tonka was bound to be a tough sell from the beginning, because I had never before encountered a sweet vetiver perfume. There was something discordant about the scent, as though someone added too much salt to a hazelnut cake. I figured that it just wasn't meant to be and forgot about this Hermessence for a while.

When I decided to re-test the Hermessence line using spray atomizers, my biggest surprise of all was the marked improvement in the quality—according to my nose—of Vétiver Tonka. For one thing, it no longer seemed all that sweet. In fact, it hardly seems sweet at all anymore. For another thing, as in the case of Brin de Réglisse, many layers of complexity emerge through allowing this perfume to be infused with air molecules, thus separating what formerly seemed to me to be a monolithic layer of weirdly sweet vetiver. 

Now, to my delight, I find that this composition has a cigarette ash facet similar to the one I recently encountered in Etat Libre d'Orange Jasmin et Cigarette—which is otherwise totally different from Vétiver Tonka, and not in the least bit sweet—but there definitely is a tobacco connection, which it shares also with Caron Le Troisième Homme, another splendidly tobaccoish unisex scent.

How did I miss this before? I guess that I was fixated on the sweet vetiver and the salty hazelnut cake. I've learned my lesson now once and for all, it seems: if you want to know how a perfume which is sold in a spray bottle smells, you'd better spray it on!

Perfumer: Jean-Claude Elléna

Notes: hazelnut, lily of the valley, praline, sandalwood, tobacco, tonka bean, vetiver (from Parfumo.net)

Hermès Hermessences 2: Rose Ikebana and Poivre Samarcande

HERMESSENCE ROSE IKEBANA (2004)
Each time that I don Hermessence Rose Ikebana I am reminded of The Different Company Rose Poivrée (2001), which in some ways is very odd because I do not like that perfume at all. Yesterday I decided to dig out my nearly full sample cube of Rose Poivrée just to refresh my memory about why I retain such a negative image of that perfume in my mind. It can all be summed up in one word: cumin. That's what I smell, whether it's in the composition or not, and it completely overpowers the rose, reminding me more of Alexander McQueen Kingdom than any rose perfume I've ever met.

Until yesterday, I did not realize—or had forgotten—that Elléna also composed Rose Poivrée, but now it at least makes sense why I am reminded of it every time I don Rose Ikebana. I would describe Rose Ikebana as a refined, finished version of Rose Poivrée, with about a tenth of the spices, and more fruit added for sweetness and vibrancy. Whereas Rose Poivrée lists berries and hibiscus among its notes (although to my nose they are completely masked by the "cumin"), Rose Ikebana lists fruits, tea and citrus as notes. There is clearly an overlap of spices between these two perfumes, but Rose Ikebana is a much nicer blend to my nose, and quite enjoyable to wear. I also find this perfume to be more feminine than Rose Poivrée, and I imagine that some people who like that perfume may find this one too tame.

Rose Ikebana is a spicy rose, but not overly so. It is a fruity rose, but only barely, and the sweetness is cut by the citrus. This is nothing like the candied citrus rose perfumes you may have sniffed—Rosine Un Zeste de Rose and Frédéric Malle Bigarade Concentrée (also by Elléna!) both come to mind as citrus roses with much more sugar and citrus rind than rose.

Instead, this is a fresh, modern rose while still smelling sophisticated. No dowagers, but also no teenage princesses. Rose Ikebana is a unique rose perfume with just enough spice to set it apart from the crowd in terms of genre, and its excellent quality materials set it apart from many niche floral perfumes. One small caveat is in order: the citrus of this composition is bound to play out differently on different wearers' skin and could I imagine have a sour cast on some. Of course, it goes without saying that anything in this line is a try before you buy!

Perfumer: Jean-Claude Elléna
Notes: fruits, spices, cassia, musk, orange, rose, tea, lemon (from Parfumo.net)

HERMESSENCE
POIVRE SAMARCANDE (2004)
I have finally found my dream Jardin: Hermessence Poivre Samarcande. I realize that it's not supposed to be a part of the Jardins series, but this creation captures for me what the (other) Jardins have not: a feeling of place-induced equanimity. I don't think that I'm imagining this, and I don't think that I am unduly influenced by the difference in prices, but I do think that this perfume is on a higher plane from the (other) Jardins. Best of all, I finally believe myself to have achieved an understanding of what all the Jardins devotées have been raving about.

The opening of Poivre Samarcande wafts of wet sisal and is to my mind reminiscent of Yves Saint Laurent Champagne. Yes, I actually have the remnants of a bottle of the original perfume—before its name was changed to Yvresse. But Poivre Samarcande is certainly not a fruity chypre and diverges quite radically from Yvresse after the opening.

How can I love a perfume devoid of so many of the things I love in perfume? That is the true magic of this composition and the proof that a great perfume is always more than the sum of its parts. It's clearly the perfectly proportioned mixture of what would normally be auxiliary or complementary notes which somehow alchemically(!) produces something truly beautiful from nearly nothing.

The pepper is detectable but not dominant and certainly not heavy-handed as it so often is in compositions thrown together with less care than Elléna has evidently taken here. The caraway, paprika, oakmoss, and patchouli are woven together with the oak and the cedar into a single finely textured layer with none of those notes standing out. How can I love a such a perfume? It defies explication, as does this scent. You have to wear it to believe it.

There is no longevity problem here whatsoever—I am starting to wonder whether those who complain about the fleeting nature of these Hermessences may be suffering from olfactory fatigue. Or are they truly hyposmic?


Perfumer: Jean-Claude Elléna
Notes: oak, oakmoss, green notes, caraway, paprika, patchouli, pepper, cedar (from Parfumo.net)

Hermès Hermessences 1: Paprika Brasil and Iris Ukiyoé

I have really fallen for the Hermessence series perfumes, which appeal to my aesthetic sensibilities much more than do Les Jardins from this house and perfumer. It's not that I dislike those creations, but they have never really spoken to me in the way that the Hermessences do. Each of these two series constitutes an independent, beautifully crafted set expressing a distinctive aesthetic vision, which is why liking or disliking or being indifferent to one of them (as I am to Les Jardins) implies nothing about the other.

When I think about how the various members of each of the two sets fit together with one another while remaining individually unique, I am amazed at Jean-Claude Elléna. It appears that I may have been won over to the cult after all. I recently read Elléna's book Perfume: The Alchemy of Scent (2011), which no doubt facilitated my conversion...

HERMESSENCE PAPRIKA BRASIL (2006)
Let me begin with the biggest surprise of the ten Hermessences: Paprika Brasil. The very first time that I tried this perfume, I was immediately struck by the marked iris note. It was beautiful, and the creation was so far from what I had been expecting (something along the lines of the L'Artisan Parfumeur salsa perfume...), that I even suspected a decanting error. I read and re-read the name on the vial, and wondered if it was possible that it contained Iris Ukiyoé (which I had yet to test) instead. Now, having worn Paprika Brasil several times, from manufacturer-prepared samples, I am convinced that this was not a mistake or an illusion. To my nose, iris is the focal note of Paprika Brasil, its name notwithstanding.

This is honestly one of the most beautiful iris compositions I've ever smelled. Perhaps I am iris hyperosmic, or perhaps the reviewers who hate this creation are hyposmic. Or perhaps both. All I can say is that this gorgeous presentation of iris blows me away. Do I smell paprika or pimento in this composition? Only briefly, and only in the opening. Do I smell clove? No, not at all. After the slightly spicy opening, Paprika Brasil settles down on my skin to a smooth woody iris scent. The wood seems to be mostly cedar, although it's not the usual Elléna base—by which I mean the one underlying some of the Jardins and Colognes by this perfumer.

In an endeavor to solve this enigma, why a fragrance named Paprika Brasil should turn out to be an iris perfume, I decided to read all of the reviews I could find. Some people hate this creation and claim that it smells like vegetables in a kitchen. Others find it extremely ephemeral and insubstantial—a skimpy little thing. About half of the reviews I read do not even mention iris. But a lucky few, among whom I number, are captivated by this scent and pleasantly surprised by the dominant iris note. I take all of this evidence on its face to support the thesis of variable salience of notes to noses and variable expression on skin from wearer to wearer. I do not know what this smells like on paper. Why would I want to waste any of it by spraying it there?

With surprisingly good longevity and medium sillage, this unique iris creation is now on my full-bottle wish list, but results do vary quite a lot from person to person, so try before you buy! 

Perfumer: Jean-Claude Elléna
Notes: clove, paprika, pimento, green leaves, iris, precious woods, mignonette (from Parfumo.net)

HERMESSENCE IRIS UKIYOE (2010)
This Hermessence is of course supposed to be an iris perfume—and it is. But it is very different from Paprika Brasil. Iris Ukiyoé does not feature a light, powdery iris à la Guerlain Après L'Ondée or Prada Infusion d'Iris. I am huge fan of both of those perfumes, and in fact I love every version of the Prada Infusions d'Iris: the edp, the edt, and Infusion d'Homme as well. I hope to try the latest member of the group, the Absolue, soon...

No, Iris Ukiyoé falls into the camp containing Acqua di Parma Iris Nobile, Hermès Hiris, and, to a lesser extent, Yves Rocher Iris Noir. The latter contains a strong and pervasive Yves Rocher base common to all of the other members of the prestige perfumes from that line and is probably my least favorite of the darker iris perfumes for that reason. Iris Ukiyoé is a heavier, orris-type iris perfume, but it also has a slightly carroty-vegetal side. It's definitely not as carroty as Hiris, but let's just say that there seem to be a few carrot seeds or leaves thrown into the mix.

Ironically, then, Iris Ukiyoé smells more like vegetables to me than does Paprika Brasil. I do not think that it smells like chopped vegetables in a kitchen, however. The quality I'm talking about is similar to the vegetal quality in Frédéric Malle Carnal Flower. Obviously, that's a very different perfume, featuring, as it does, tuberose, but I perceive some sort of vegetal connection between the two. There are no vegetables, neither carrots nor greens, listed among the notes. Perhaps Elléna decided to dip into the plant pheromones for this creation, following Dominique Ropion's lead? On ne sait jamais...

In any case, Iris Ukiyoé is a heavier (I want to say "soggy", but that sounds derogatory...) iris perfume and not at all powdery or woody to my nose. It would surely appeal to anyone who appreciates Acqua di Parma Iris Nobile, it seems to me. I like it a lot, but if forced to choose a single iris perfume from this series, I'd select Paprika Brasil—believe it or not!

Still, Iris Ukiyoé is appealing in its own right, and in the fantasy world where I am permitted to buy every worthy perfume in existence, this one, too, would join my collection.

Perfumer: Jean-Claude Elléna
Notes: iris, mandarin, orange blossom, rose (from Parfumo.net)