Prada: Les Infusions d'Iris (Reblog from Il Mondo di Odore)

Prada: Les Infusions d'Iris
(originally posted at Il Mondo di Odore on November 25, 2011)

PRADA INFUSION D'IRIS edp (2007)

To my nose, this is an elegant, linear perfume showcasing iris in an ethereal, dreamlike composition. It is streamlined and simple, not junky and cluttered. I find Infusion d'Iris to be extremely feminine, and while it is very clean and fresh, it does not fit at all into any of the current hygiene fads. This is not a shampoo-conditioner frag, nor does it smell anything like cleaning or laundry products. And yet it really is super clean. I would compare the texture to that of a swath of soft linen cloth. It seems white somehow to me, giving off a sort of shimmering celestial aura. Like sunlight shining through a cloud. Or powdery snow sparkling on a mountaintop.

Infusion d'Iris is a tranquil, peaceful perfume featuring, as advertised, iris, but also a bit of neroli. These floral notes are lusciously ensconced in a supportive benzoin-cedar layer which lasts a luxuriously long time on my skin. Although Infusion d'Iris is clean, it is also ever-so-slightly sweet, and the incense note is so measured—compared to other incense perfumes I've tested of late—that this fragrance ends up being far more floral than oriental. It is certainly not overwhelmingly floral, but that's the closest category to which this sui generis composition can be said to belong, it seems to me.

After testing Infusion d'Iris from a decant generously provided to me by a fellow fragrance traveler, I ended up receiving a large bottle (200ml) in a swap with a wonderful woman from Romania who did not like it at all and was happy to have it taken off her hands—as was I to get rid of the bottles she received in exchange. All of which demonstrates, once again, the beauty of swapping, and the wisdom of the adage One perfumista's trash is another one's treasure.

There does appear to be a fair amount of disagreement about this perfume, so only your own nose can say whether it will be right for you. It is definitely not like anything else on the market today—well, except the other two members of this trio—happily, for those of us who like it!

Perfumer: Daniela Andrier
salient notes (from the box): iris, Italian mandarin, Tunisian neroli, cedar, Laotian benzoin, Somalian incense

PRADA INFUSION D'HOMME edt (2008)
This perfume, first of all, is misnamed. It is not an infusion of men; it is, like Infusion d'Iris, a composition around iris. The name Infusion d'Homme makes it sound as though this must be one of Jean-Baptiste Grenouille's creations—only commencing not from red-haired nubile young maidens but from hot metrosexual males.

But enough quibbling about the name and the need for the staffers at Prada to brush up on their French. Infusion d'Homme is splendid! What a delightful, clean, woody-incensey-iris composition this is! If the truth be told, I might even like this creation more than the original Infusion d'Iris (that's right: infusion of iris, not infusion of woman!). Unlike the first Infusion, which is not soapy at all—although both benzoin and cedar are present in that composition as well—this made-for-men version really is rather soapy, especially in the drydown, where skin chemistry is going to make or break the fragrance for any given wearer.

The soap here is definitely not sharp, as in White Linen or Chanel no 5 (or white Dial!), which I happen to love, but lots of people do not. Still, it is important to remember that soap notes which smell splendid on some skins end up slightly acrid or even rank on others, so only a direct spritz on your very own body and a full day's wear will make it possible to determine whether Infusion d'Homme is right for you—whether you happen to be a man or a woman. This is absolutely a unisex fragrance, in my view.

Anyone who is approaching this fragrance for the very first time needs to bear in mind that Infusion d'Homme is not your average men's cologne. It's certainly not aquatic, and it's certainly not citrus. It is not metallic, and it really smells nothing whatsoever like stereotypical men's fragrances. When I myself first sprayed on Infusion d'Homme, I was quite surprised, above all, because of its soapy yet Infusion d'Iris-esque drydown.

I do not have any previous experience with soapy made-for-men colognes. It may well be that they do exist, but I have yet to run into any... In any case, the important point is simply this: I'd be a happy gal indeed to smell this on the men around me. Or...on me—which is why I acquired a large bottle of this one as well (200ml). I'm sorry to gush so much, but honestly, to me, this stuff just smells great.

Now, I certainly do not want to tell anyone else what to buy, because our tastes and preferences and worldviews and everything else differ so much, but please grant me the liberty to step up to the podium on behalf of at least some of the women of the world who are not hyposmic and may even be hyperosmic to certain aromachemicals. Some of you gentlemen may well be wondering, What do the ladies think? Should I wear this juice? To all of the gents who have been perplexed about this very question, whether they should don Infusion d'Homme in our fair presence, my answer is: Yes, Yes, emphatically Yes!!!

Still, I do recognize that not all men are interested in becoming chic magnets, and some may even care less than zero about my own idiosyncratic tastes, in particular. Suffice it here simply to reiterate that, given the marked soap note, this is definitely a try before you buy, for guys and gals alike.

Although some reviewers have complained about what they perceive to be the low level of iris in this composition, I am of the considered opinion that a smidgeon more florality would have put this over the fine line demarcating unisex from feminine perfumes. So I personally think that it was a good call on the part of the perfumer.

All in all, in addition to being totally wearable by women, Infusion d'Homme offers a new avenue for men, at least those who are prepared to boldly go where men's colognes have not, to my knowledge, gone before. Again, I generally steer clear of such prescriptions, but were I to issue a sweeping normative claim at this juncture, it would in all likelihood take the following general form: Please do not avoid!!!!

Perfumer: Daniela Andrier
Salient notes (from the box): Tunisian neroli, iris pallida, vetiver, cedar, incense and benzoin




INFUSION D'IRIS edt (2010)
When I first learned of Prada Infusion d'Iris edt, my reaction was: Why? Who wants a weaker version of the beautiful edp? But then when I happened to encounter by chance the box on a counter and saw that the notes were different—and included one of my favorite flowers, violet, along with heliotrope as well—I became excited by the prospect of a tweaked version of a perfume beloved to me in both the original edp and the men's closely related edt. I was reminded immediately of Chanel Allure, the edt and edp of which are different compositions, but both of which I wore a fair volume of during the twentieth and early twenty-first century.

Although the two Infusions d'Iris are distinct compositions, I actually have a difficult time distinguishing the edp and the edt from one another, except in a direct side-by-side comparison. Perhaps this is because both have a strangely calming effect on my mind, disarming my critical faculties and rendering it difficult to make such fine discriminations. Think of a fresh ream of bright white 100% cotton paper. Yes, the pages are distinct, but you perceive them together as a whole. Which reminds me of the time when the yoga instructor of a class I was taking exhorted us, Evacuate your critical mind. My natural reaction (in my totally unevacuated critical mind state) was: Why would I want to do that? But I digress...



I do think that the edt is not all that empirically different from the edp—again, at least not in the altered state of equanimity induced by spraying either of these perfumes on my skin. (Each is a great choice for bedtime, by the way...) Yes, the edt is slightly less green and less woody, and just a touch sweeter, but the soft blanket of iris florality strikes me as very much the same. The violets and heliotrope blend seamlessly with the iris in the edt to sweeten the linen-like layer. They may impart just a tinge of purple, too, but not one that can be perceived except by direct contrast to pure white.


Perfumer: Daniela Andrier
salient notes (from the box): iris, neroli, lily of the valley, violet, heliotrope, cedar and galbanum


Concluding Unscientific and Aesthetic Impressions
Overall, I'd say that these creations lie in a continuum from the edt to the edp to the Infusion d'Homme, the latter of which is not only more woody, with a decent dose of vetiver along with the cedar, but also quite soapy. The two made-for-women versions, in contrast, are more "flocculent" or "fluffy" and not at all soapy to my nose. I find the sillage and longevity to be very good in all three versions.

I am obviously fond of these Infusions and am happy that Prada came up with such a nice cluster of iris-focused fragrances unlike any others I've encountered. They have carved out a distinct niche in a crowded corner and so far there have been no imitators—at least not to my knowledge!

There is clearly a consistent aesthetic across this trio, and for that reason, I suspect that people who love one will probably love all three. Consider the following questions: Do you like to smell clean but not like cleaning products or shampoo? Do you love flowers but prefer not to smell like a bouquet or a corsage? Are you glad that the 1980s are over? If your answers are Yes, Yes, and Yes, then these Infusions may work for you. On the other hand, anyone who is bored by one of these creations (not sweaty enough, not dirty enough, not loud enough, not complex enough...) will likely be bored by all three.

In the end, I recommend that everyone give these creations a sniff and decide for themselves: only your very own nose knows!!!!


(adapted from reviews first posted at www.fragrantica.com on September 13, 2010, December 10, 2010, and July 29, 2011)

Roméa d’Améor: Les Sept Parfums (Reblog from Il Mondo di Odore)

(originally posted at Il Mondo di Odore on November 24, 2011)

The perfumes of Roméa d’Améor have not been extensively reviewed, but since this small house produces only creations intended specifically for women (not for men, nor unisex), the fact that it was not listed at Basenotes, the members of which generally seem to pride themselves on being up to the minute on the latest niche offerings, did not necessarily mean all that much. The house's founder, Annie Vannier describes her line at the website thus:

Roméa d’Améor’s extraordinary line of seven scents is a tribute to real women throughout the ages who have touched history in tangible ways…women with distinct personalities who lived very different lives surrounded by the scents of their time, for whom each [is] paid a fragrant tribute.

The “real women throughout the ages” turn out to be the members of fairly exclusive groups:

Les Souveraines d'Egypte [The (female) Sovereigns of Egypt]
Les Impératrices Japonaises [The Empresses of Japan]
Les Maîtresses de Louis XIV [The Mistresses of Louis XIV]
Les Espionnes du Tsar [The (female) Spies of the Tzar]
Les Grandes Amours du Taj Mahal [The Taj-Mahal's Great Loves]
Les Princesses de Venise [The Princesses of Venice]
Les Grandes Prêtresses Incas [The Great Inca Priestesses]

It all sounded, as usual, pretty gimmicky to me, but not so different from, say, the governing “concept” of the house of Histoires de Parfums, the wares of which I happen to love, so perhaps this, too, would be a treasure trove of great perfume! (On ne sait jamais...)

My interest in finding out more about this line naturally skyrocketed, of course, upon learning that the house perfumer was none other than the ultra-famous Pierre Bourdon (the list of his successful launches is ridiculously long, but every perfumista uses at least one or two of his creations, it seems to me...). Intrigued, I ordered samples of the entire Roméa d’Améor line, and here's what I found: 


LES SOUVERAINES D'EGYPTE is a somewhat sweet floriental with a comfort-scent demeanor. The vanilla and orchid mingle together in a creamy base to create an effect as snuggly as a fleece blanket on a cold winter's day. Like fleece (as opposed to cashmere), this perfume has a thinner texture than is typical for floriental perfumes, and it even comes close to some of the “aquatic orientals” I've tried, including Lalique Nilang and Salvador Dali Laguna. There is a touch of spice, but it is very light and serves only as a complement, not as a focus in this composition. Although I sometimes find orchid a dirty note, here it seems clean. Perhaps because it's "green"? 

Despite the thin texture and somewhat low sillage, the longevity of Les Souveraines d'Egypte is fairly good. This is an unobtrusive oriental appropriate for public settings: neither very dark nor very complex. Perhaps this would be a good oriental for the hot weather in Egypt.


LES IMPERATRICES JAPONAISES is a textured tea fragrance to my nose. However, unlike many mainstream tea offerings, this one seems natural, not scarily synthetic. Light but inviting with a touch of what seems almost rice-like starchiness. Perhaps I am succumbing to the power of suggestion, but this really does smell like Japan to me. Does it smell like the empresses of Japan? Unclear. But Les Impératrices Japonaises is definitely a perfume I wouldn't mind wearing in casual settings. 

This composition reminds me a bit of Guerlain Les Voyages Olfactifs—Tokyo, and also the bamboo-ishness of Weil Bambou, although here there is a stronger woody note in the drydown and the tea is less dominant as well. Simple, clean and refreshing without being soapy at all, this is clearly a unisex, cologne-y perfume.

LES MAITRESSES DE LOUIS XIV is a crispy, crunchy floral green featuring hyacinth and lily-of-the-valley. Very reminiscent of Gucci Envy, but without the blob-like expansive synthetic lily-of-the-valley note which eventually ruins that composition for me. Still no soapiness yet to be found in the house of Roméa D'Améor, but so far I've found a couple of reasonably nice variations on clean themes without the bubbles, this being one of them. The green is not at all mean here and a far cry from the notorious Cabotine, among others. I rather like Les Maîtresses de Louis XIV, and wouldn't mind having a bottle of this perfect-for-every-occasion-and-season perfume. 

I would not say that this is a romantic creation at all, but, hey, maybe that's why they were the maîtresses (plural)... Perhaps once the image of innocence had been ruptured his ladies lost for old Louis their appeal? On ne sait jamais... Anyone who likes Envy would like this perfume, and some among those who do not (self included) will like it as well.


LES ESPIONNES DU TSAR is a slightly sweet, woody floriental with a touch of patchouli, or so it seems... Like Les Souveraines d'Egypte, this is a mild oriental—no hard-hitting incense, myrrh, oudh, or what have you, just a touch of spice and sweetness mingling together harmoniously—and inoffensively. Les Espionnes du Tsar is not as watery as Les Souveraines, which makes it slightly more appealing to me, but I still feel that somehow Pierre was holding back in this creation, perhaps trying to be too polite. On the other hand, if this perfume is truly to evoke the spirit of the Tsar's female spies, they'd have to be pretty sly—and subtle in order to ply their trade. 

I like but do not love this composition, although there is nothing wrong with it beyond its lack of an over-the-top slay-me-with-your-sensuality oriental demeanor. All in all, a well-behaved, perhaps even prim oriental, which could easily be worn by those who partake primarily of members of the ORIFFF (office-ready fruity-floral frag!) category. 


LES GRANDES AMOURS DU TAJ MAHAL is supposed to feature Lotus Bleu (translated on the manufacturer's card as “Taj Mahal water lily”), but what I smelled smacked more of a peony frag. It may be that both water lily and peony are present in this composition, but the latter certainly dominates and makes this a somewhat humdrum floral fragrance to my nose. So many peony frags, so little desire to wear any of them!


LES PRINCESSES DE VENISES is a somewhat sharp floral fragrance featuring orchid and/or lily, along with what seems to my nose to be a mimosa note. Although I did not appreciate this composition very much the first time I wore it, it grew on me a bit as I explored it further. I've been noticing lately that my first take on a perfume is not always very accurate. Perhaps during the first wearing I am distracted by the top notes, and it takes some time to appreciate the deeper layers and complexities of all decent perfumes, of which this seems to be one. 

I would recommend this creation to those who favor floral bouquets with lower sillage and also like mimosa. This is not a Big Fat Floral Fragrance (BFFF) by any stretch of the imagination. In keeping with the general aesthetic of this house, the floral notes are front and center but not overwhelmingly so. 


LES GRANDES PRETRESSES INCAS concludes my romp through the house of Roméa D'Améor. My initial impression was that this was a made-for-men cologne. It really smelled quite masculine. Later, however, the composition became far more sweet than aromatic. In the end, though, I found myself reporting to my cat, “This perfume is stinky. I don't like it.” Enough said.


Concluding Unscientific and Aesthetic Impressions
All in all, I was underwhelmed and, to be perfectly frank (quoi d'autre?), a bit disappointed with this seven-stop journey through haute concubine history. I might consider adding a bottle of Les Impératrices Japonaises to my collection, and I would wear Les Maîtresses de Louis XIV, if I happened to have a bottle lying around, but honestly I can live without either one and certainly the others in this line. My overall feeling is that Pierre Bourdon did not deliver on the promise of his name as the creator of all of the perfumes of this house. Although I did not positively dislike most of this collection, nor did I find them very compelling.

Having said all of that, I should add that I do believe that there is a consistent aesthetic vision expressed through this collection. It's just that it's not one which I happen to share. I would recommend this line for testing by those who enjoy what I refer to as “thin” orientals such as The Different Company Oriental Lounge.

Now please excuse me while I take leave to don some Ferre edp. (Je vous aime encore, Pierre...)


(adapted from reviews first posted at www.fragrantica.com on March 25, 26, 28, and 29, 2011)

Keiko Mecheri: Les Loukhoums (Reblog from Il Mondo di Odore)

(originally posted at Il Mondo di Odore on November 23, 2011)

LOUKHOUM
I have not been inside a doughnut shop for a number of years, but upon donning Keiko Mecheri Loukhoum for the very first time, it occurred to me that such a place would be an optimum front for a drug dealer. White powder is everywhere and in abundance. Cocaine, morphine, and heroin in white crystalline form (also codeine and caffeine...) are all empirically indistinguishable—at least by sight—from powdered sugar. There could be bags and bags of all of these substances in the kitchen where doughnuts are produced, and it would all look perfectly legit.

Yes, believe it or not, and to my great surprise, I have discovered that Keiko Mecheri has managed to create a perfume which smells exactly as it would (I imagine...) to snort cocaine in a Winchell's donut shop. I'm not saying that I have any experience in that sort of thing, but if I did, I am pretty sure that the olfactory effect would be very well mimicked by sniffing Loukhoum. It's not just sugary, nor is it syrupy. This is a complex cooked-sugar smell, similar to Spanish turrón or, to Americans, a low-brow confection known as Big Hunk. I do not know whether I have ever eaten or even seen Turkish delight, but Loukhoum manages to capture the essence of turrón and Big Hunk in liquid form. And that's a very good thing, to my nose.

But wait, there's more. There is also a decidedly alkaline smell in this composition which could be cocaine or caffeine or any number of other similar white powders. Basically what we have here are piping hot doughnuts rolled in the white powder mixture in the kitchen that would result if some enterprising drug dealer decided to use a doughnut franchise as his front. Unique!

Salient notes (from http://www.keikomecheri.com/): hawthorne blossoms, Bulgarian rose, Morrocan rose, Comores vanilla, precious woods, white almond, ambery notes


LOUKHOUM EAU POUDREE
The white powders continue to proliferate with Loukhoum Eau Poudrée, which adds a baby powder-type note plus more flour into the already sugary-alkaloid mix of Loukhoum. Initially, I thought that the baby powderish note was not a good idea, but then it simply disappeared, ceding to a slightly less sugary but just as alkaloid composition which I found somehow irresistibly appealing, strangely enough. Or perhaps not, given my belief that these compositions do indeed contain a mystery alkaloid compound which may explain how I managed to use my entire 2.5ml sample of Loukhoum in a single evening and my entire 2.5ml sample of Loukhoum Eau Poudrée the following day. Serious addiction potential, to say the least...


I found both of these first two loukhoum compositions very compelling, and I was surprised at the naysayers. Perhaps they were laboring under the false assumption that loukhoum was oudh? Far from it, in fact, loukhoum could only form the basis of a very sweet gourmand composition, the only questions being: Are the notes of high quality and blended together pleasingly? and Do these creations offer something not already available? My answer was a resounding Yes! on both counts. My journey through the land of loukhoum was therefore destined to continue...

Salient notes (from http://www.keikomecheri.com/): white rose, orris powder, green of violets, narcissus, dragée notes, Madagascar vanilla, and crystalline musk




LOUKHOUM PARFUM DU SOIR
Yet another beautiful loukhoum creation, Parfum du Soir pulls out all the stops, throwing the ultra-trendy oudh into the already heady mix. All three of these KM loukhoum perfumes smell very similar to me in the drydown, showing most of their variation in the opening minutes. In the case of Parfum du Soir, the oudh appears to my nose up front, surprisingly enough, adding a dark and deep almost myrrh-like quality but then giving way eventually to the divinity-like alkaloid amalgam common to the other members of this trio.

After experiencing these exquisite perfumes, it seems clear to me that anyone who likes any of them will probably like the others, and anyone who dislikes any of them will probably dislike the others as well. I fall into the former category, and would love to have a bottle of any of the three, but will probably be adding either Loukhoum Eau Poudrée or Parfum du Soir to my collection. These are really addictive, though, so in the end I may just have to enter rehab...

Salient notes (from www.keikomecheri.com): rose absolute, oudh, white almond, vanilla madagascar absolute, tonka bean, and benzoin



(adapted from reviews posted at www.fragrantica.com on February 2 and 3, 2011)

Bvlgari Les Jasmins (Reblog from Il Mondo di Odore)

(originally posted at Il Mondo di Odore on November 22, 2011)


Speaking of gimmicks: how about those naked celebrities lounging about with jungle cats? I gather that the Julianne Moore campaign for the Bvlgari jewelry line was a resounding success, notwithstanding the banning of the ads from St. Mark's Square in Venice (people there are so uptight anyway, and not likely to be purchasing much jewelry in any case!). So, for the launch of their new perfume, Mon Jasmin Noir, the company decided to find a younger, fresher, blonder model to take off her clothes and lie down with a lion. It's interesting because the lion cubs grew up, while the siren simultaneously went from being une femme d'un certain âge, to someone who could be her daughter...

Which ad is more appealing? Well, it's obviously a matter of taste, but I find Julianne Moore's stunning red hair and alabaster skin to offer a better overall aesthetic contrast to her furry feline friends than does Kirsten Dunst's relatively boring “white bread” college co-ed look. (And who is that guy she's with? Could that be her English professor?) In any case, if Bvlgari is looking to sell their new perfume to a younger crowd (as they obviously are), then Kirsten may in fact bring in more cash. After all, what young woman coming of age wants to be like her mother? I ask most sincerely. And now, at last, to the perfume:





MON JASMIN NOIR (2011)
I would love to know who the brilliant marketing mind was who first came up with the idea of slapping a personal possessive adjective on the name of a fragrance to create a new flanker name. It really is nonsensical, if you think about it. So if Mon Jasmin Noir belongs to me, to whom does my bottle of Jasmin Noir belong? To you, perhaps?

In this particular case, the name is doubly illogical, because there is not a drop of noir anywhere to be sniffed in Mon Jasmin Noir. The licorice of the namesake has been replaced by lily of the valley (white) and the almonds have been replaced by musk (clear). Even the bottle of this flanker is transparent. They appear to have changed the shape of the bottle in order to distinguish it from (the now discontinued?) Voile de Jasmin—launched way back in 2006—this house's Nivea lotion-esque jasmine perfume (not sweet).

According to my nose, Mon Jasmin Noir falls into the recently created category of sweet laundry scents, with a fairly big dose of jasmine and a vaguely Cacharel Eden-esque quasi-polymeric (synthetic) quality in the drydown. There is also a touch of light woods.

All in all, a completely different perfume from its namesake. Jasmine is the common denominator, but here it is much more musky (albeit sweet) than oriental. I prefer the original.

Perfumers: Sophie Labbe and Olivier Polge
Salient notes (from sephora.com): golden cedrat, lily of the valley, Sambac jasmine, Anglewing jasmine, musky nougatine (???), cedar, patchouli



JASMIN NOIR (2008)
My initial encounter with Jasmin Noir was a surprising one. I had purchased the perfume scent unsniffed on the strength only of my love of Bvlgari pour femme. I'm not sure what I was expecting, something perhaps more serious, more intense, but my first spritz seemed like a shower of sugar. After that, there was a strange mélange of je ne sais quoi. I honestly couldn't figure it out. Later, a long-lasting light layer of black licorice was left behind. I liked it, but I love black licorice. Licorice root is one of the sweetest substances around, though it has no sugar or calories, which is why licorice root tea is as satisfying as dessert.

Interestingly enough, in subsequent wearings, Jasmin Noir expressed itself very differently on my skin depending on all sorts of factors: temperature, humidity, blood caffeine and sugar content, planetary motion—who knows what else? What I have found is that my perception of this perfume changes a lot depending on any number of things. Sometimes the jasmine seems dominant; at other times, I smell primarily licorice and/or almonds. What I can confidently assert, however, is that never have I disliked Jasmin Noir. Whichever notes may be standing out on a particular day, I always find the overall effect of this perfume to be smooth and seductive.

Adding to the overall appeal, the bottle is beautiful and deceptively opaque—the smoky glass reveals its true nature only juxtaposed to bright light (or snow). I like how the bottle thus aesthetically reflects the mercurial nature of the perfume inside.

I recommend this fragrance to those who like pleasant, slightly sweet, mildly floral, completely nonaldehydic, non-soapy fragrances. Needless to say, this is nothing like the new flanker nor Bvlgari pour femme nor any other perfume I've tried from this house. But it's really quite nice, provided that you happen to like black licorice, which is bound to be salient some of the time!

Perfumers: Carlos Benaim and Sophie Labbe
Salient notes (from fragrantica.com): green plant juice, gardenia flowers, Sambac jasmine, sateen (??? ) almond aromas, precious wood, liquorice absolute, and tonka.



VOILE DE JASMIN (2006)
This Bvlgari offering opens with a lovely sweet violet-like iris mingling delicately with mimosa. Gorgeous! Had I tested this creation in a store, in all likelihood I would have snapped up a bottle, as the opening lasts just long enough to seal the deal.

Unfortunately, a few minutes later, Voile de Jasmin begins to morph into a progressively less floral fragrance, which dead ends in a Nivea-Ivory soap amalgam drydown with such extraordinary longevity that it effectively nullifies the beauty of the opening. The drydown so thoroughly dominates my overall experience of this perfume that the enticing opening is entirely eclipsed by, let us call it, the Nivea effect. Not that I have anything against Nivea, mind you—I've used it for many years. But it is what it is, and it's not what it's not: perfume.

Some reviewers have complained of the fleeting nature of this fragrance, and my best guess is that they use either Nivea or Ivory and are unaware that Voile de Jasmin is contributing significantly to that just-washed and lotioned smell.

Even taking into consideration the fleeting opening, I must say that I still do find the name of this fragrance rather misleading. "Veil of jasmine" suggests the promise of, well, jasmine! Perhaps the name should have been "Jasmin voilé" or "jasmine veiled (hidden)". But honestly, the jasmine is so well hidden in this composition that the veil is more like a burkha!

Based on the long list of my former loves which have been discontinued, I gather that my own idiosyncratic impressions often diverge rather radically from marketing data. However, in this case, there may have been some overlap, assuming that Voile de Jasmin has in fact been discontinued... Although I was unable to locate this perfume at the house's website, it is definitely still available at discount emporia, so if you happen to be looking for a Nivea-Ivory facsimile perfume, you're in luck!

Perfumer: Nathalie Lorson
Salient notes (from fragrantica.com): Sambac jasmine, rose, lily of the valley, iris and musk


(adapted from reviews first posted at www.fragrantica.com on December 9, 2009, September 28, 2010, and November 11, 2011)

Van Cleef & Arpels: Purveyors of Fine Perfumes ... and Implements of Self-defense! (Reblog from Il Mondo di Odore)

(originally posted at Il Mondo di Odore on December 1, 2011)


ORIENS (2010)
This is a big sillage sweet patchouli perfume. I'd say that the single word which best describes the composition of Oriens is: voluptuous. A little goes a long way, and my distinct impression is that this perfume (edp) is much louder than the wearer may appreciate. When I don this elixir to bed, I find myself floating away on a big billowy cloud of sweet and chewy patchouli leaves and end up having—perhaps not coincidentally—truly fantastical dreams! Fortunately, unlike many lesser perfumes of this genre, Oriens does not decompose and degrade into something repulsive and vile which requires soap-and-water removal before the night is through.

This sort of composition, ushered in by Angel, and aesthetically similar to Tom Ford Black Orchid Voile de Fleur and Bond no. 9 Nuits de Noho, to name but two examples familiar to me, may be the twenty-first century analogue to some of the larger volume "comfort scents" of the past century, including Lancôme Trésor, Givenchy Amarige, and Chôpard Cashmir. The current sweet patchouli fad (of which Oriens is one instantiation) may eventually pass, at which point people looking back will perhaps chuckle as they recall these currently popular compositions, but for now they serve very much the same purpose as those earlier sweet perfumes did once upon a time, it seems to me.

Oriens creates a blanket-like layer all around the body. I cannot really imagine wearing this perfume in public, but at home it feels like a piece of self-indulgence, like a rich, sweet truffle—something which one would not eat every day but is a nice treat now and then. My 100ml edp will definitely never need to be replaced—not because I don't like it, but because it is incredibly strong and appropriate only to private settings.

Oriens is basically the antithesis of the office-ready, inoffensive fruity-floral frag, which I refer to affectionately as ORIFFF (while hoping that it is not an acronym also used by the Pentagon). Not that Oriens is offensive, mind you. No, not at all. But it really does invade everyone's space, so people who are used to their co-workers wearing perfumes which smell like hair conditioner are bound to take note. Oriens draws attention to the wearer in what could be an unwelcome way, is all that I'm trying to say.

The Oriens bottle is a case study in excess. First off, this one—to my amazement—has roundly defeated the Sarah Jessica Parker Covet bottle in the "best suited as an implement of self-defense" category.





Here we can see Sarah Jessica Parker opening a demonstration on the dual-use function of the bottle in which her new perfume, Covet, is housed and, specifically, on how to wield the bottle as a blunt instrument in self-defense:

The Oriens bottle is shaped like a palm-sized crystal ball, and actually has the same magnifying and perhaps even prophesy-conferring capacity. But the important point here is that this thick glass object is seriously dense, packing big-time heft, and I'd venture to guess that it weighs at least a pound. While the Covet bottle could be use to fend off a nocturnal intruder by knocking him out, the Oriens bottle might actually crush his skull!

I really find this bottle very attractive except for the silver-painted plastic leaves appended to the otherwise beautiful cap atop the crystal ball. Someone should have said "Stop!" because the leaves are simply over the top, like a bad hat with not only flowers but stuffed birds attached. The bottle designer appears to have drawn inspiration from models such as these:


Or perhaps one of these?




I wish that I could remove the kitschy leaves from the Oriens cap, because they really degrade the overall presentation. The mini happily omits the leaves, and gives an idea of how nice the full-sized 100ml perfume bottle might have looked:


Perhaps I'll hide the cap in a drawer, since the bottle itself needs to rest on my bedside table—just in case.

Perfumer: Bernard Ellena
Salient notes (from www.fragrantica.com):mandarin orange, black currant, raspberry, jasmine, patchouli, and praline



FEERIE edp (2008)
Who among us can forget Violet Beauregarde, the chubby American girl in the twentieth-century film Willy Wonka and the Chocolate Factory? (I never saw the twenty-first-century re-make, so shocked was I that anyone should have the audacity to try to improve on an already superlative film! In my experience, such efforts invariably fail...)
Whenever Violet was not in the process of eating something, she satisfied her oral fixation by chomping loudly on gum, not at all unlike a cow with its cud. She acquired a winning ticket in the Willy Wonka contest and so was admitted to the chocolate factory along with Charlie, the nemesis of all of the other contestants. Violet was accompanied to the factory by her loud, aggressive father, Sam Beauregarde, who was apparently either a politician or (vel) a used car salesman. Charlie, in this nouveau-Dickensian little tale, just happened to be situated at the extreme tip of the other side of the poverty line, far away from all of the other winners, and it was nothing short of miraculous that he happened by chance upon one of the admission tickets to the factory.

In the end, karma dictated that all of the naughty and/or vicious little children should be punished, including Violet, whose tragic Fall was occasioned by her brazen disobedience of a direct order not to chew a piece of experimental gum. Violet blew up like a gigantic blueberry, not only for her aesthetic crime of chomping constantly on gum, but also for her cut-throat competitiveness, which really did her in, in precisely the manner in which one might expect karma to work: like a knife (or a bolt, see below...) in the back.

Violet came dangerously close to exploding before being rolled down the hall to the juicing room by the oompa loompas for triage. Although Violet was spared the death penalty, she was summarily stripped of the right to romp about the grounds of the chocolate factory as a direct result of this self-induced medical emergency.





…

Perhaps you, dear reader, did not remember Violet Beauregarde, but I am fairly confident that the makers of Van Cleef & Arpels Féerie did, for it is abundantly clear that she provided the deep inspiration for this creation. From the über-cloying black currant syrup sprinkled with violet leaves to the trucker tire-flap icon reproduced in miniature statuette form and applied to the ice-pick-like cap, Féerie embodies the essence of Violet Beauregarde aesthetic.

I can state without hyperbole that this is the sweetest ostensibly serious perfume I've ever sniffed. Although I've been known to bitch and moan about dilution, this composition has basically the opposite problem, being so thick and glucose-rich that it could easily be mistaken for one of those fruit syrups which come in bulbous bottles with sliding pour mechanisms—the ones arrayed in a “lazy Susan” contraption in booth tables at fine eateries such as the International House of Pancakes (“IHOP”, to those in the know), no doubt frequented by the Beauregarde family.

Rather than a fruity floral, I'd say that Féerie is a true fruity-fruity perfume, because the syrupy black currant is so dominant and so persistent and so thick and so, well, black curranty, that it is precisely like Violet Beauregarde in its extreme egotism, excluding all else as it screams out: “Me! Me! Me! ME!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!


Féerie might mix well with a rose soliflore, as a stand-alone perfume, but it pretty much deserves the karmic fate eventually suffered by Violet Beauregarde, fittingly enough. Even the bottle is bright blueberry blue, and although the edges are beautifully faceted, from a distance the object evokes in this viewer's mind memories of one and one thing alone: Violet Beauregarde as her girth continues to expand to its ultimate bursting point while her face turns progressively more blue.

Now for the intricate embellishments, the carefully thought-out "finishing touches" upon the bottle in which this fruit syrup is found. Once again, as with Oriens, Van Cleef & Arpels has come up with a beautiful bottle totally degraded by its over-the-top cap! I'm beginning to suspect, actually, that those working in the art department of this house have a secret wager going on: Who can get away with the kitschiest cap on a perfume successfully launched before being served their walking papers?
To my amazement, Féerie actually manages to defeat (and that is no mean feat, by any means!) Oriens, indisputably winning the top honors in the “most ridiculous cap ever” category! How in the world did the artist get away with this? Every American inhabiting the broad underbelly of this land—including the members of the Beauregarde family—knows the naked lady on the tire flaps of semi-trucks: this image is virtually ubiquitous to anyone who drives cross country on freeways. There she sits amidst only her curves, beckoning YOU, her leg suggestively bent, a bust thrust directed your way.

If you don't know what I'm talking about, you must be a city dweller—or else a for'ner. The next time that you embark on a road trip in this not-so-fair land, I exhort you to take a few moments, pull into a truck stop, and examine the tire flaps on the semis parked there.


Yes, *that very image*, the Platonic Form of the Curvy Naked Lady Looking to Sleep with You has been fashioned into a tiny silver three-dimensional facsimile which has been nailed (literally—there's a visible bolt in her back!)—as to a crucifix—to the ice pick atop the Féerie bottle! An ice pick is perfect, by the way, for pricking swollen blueberries:


Come to think of it: wouldn't Sharon Stone have looked even more sizzling if the handle of her ice pick had been a beautiful faceted blue bottle of perfume?

Amazing! Truly an accomplishment of sorts. I stand humbled before the person who pulled this job off. Bravo, Joel Desgrippes!!!!

Perfumer: Antoine Maisondieu
Bottle designer: Joel Desgrippes
Salient notes (from www.fragrantica.com): violet, green notes, floral notes, Italian mandarin, →black currant←, Bulgarian rose, Egyptian jasmine, iris from Florence, precious woods, and Haitian vetiver


FEERIE edt (2009)
Well, my best guess is that Van Cleef & Arpels may have had to contend with litigation regarding cases of accidental gouging—or intentional evisceration—caused by the original Féerie cap, for now the ice pick-cum-crucifix has been sawed down quite a bit. In addition, the edt launch is significantly less syrupy, leading me to suspect that someone somewhere may very well have sued for the edp's inducement of a diabetic coma.

Or perhaps the two were ingeniously linked in a single case: an overzealous defender of her home went a bit too far, transcending the limits of what can reasonably regarded as legitimate self-defense. In a state of rage induced by the penetration of her sacred boudoir by an unexpected and uninvited visitor, she took up her Féerie edp bottle with exceptional exuberance, multiply impaling him until he finally lay limp in a pool of his own blood. But then, the would-have-been-damsel-in-distress-left-to-her-own-devices (and perfume collection) in protecting herself had the good sense to follow her attorney's clever counsel to invoke the “elevated blood sugar defense” at her trial, leaving Van Cleef & Arpels fully culpable all over again.

Like reformulations in general, Féerie edt is a new composition in which everything has been toned down (above all, the black currant, but also the tall spire of the ice pick, which has entirely disappeared from the cap...) no doubt in an effort to address the more, let us say, “problematic” aspects of the original launch.

The final perfume product is definitely more wearable (which is to say, actually wearable), but the overall integrity of this project as a work of fine design has suffered in the process, it seems to me. To say nothing of its diminished efficacy as an implement of self-defense!

Perfumer: Olivier Pescheux
Salient notes (from www.fragrantica.com): violet, rose absolute, jasmine, musk, sandalwood, and benzoin

Bond no 9 I LOVE NY trio (Reblog from Il Mondo di Odore)

(originally posted at Il Mondo di Odore on November 21, 2011)

Well, it's pretty clear that this I LOVE NY trio of Bond no 9 launches is geared toward the tourist customer and may well be found at the same kiosks purveying miniature renditions of the Statue of Liberty, etc. So I do believe that this is one of the more diaphanous gimmicks on the part of this house to remain solvent during these very difficult economic times, when a lot of people are out of work and obviously not buying luxury items such as niche perfume. Although some may be put off by the gimmickry of this house, I have to confess that I find it rather endearing. They really are trying to survive, and I admire that.

To be perfectly frank (quoi d'autre?), I have never really understood the antipathy that some perfumistas harbor for this house. Yes, they're gimmicky; yes, the MSRP of their perfumes is high. But how do those factors distinguish them from countless other houses? I ask most sincerely. My recent experiences with some of the not-so-catholic [sic] elements of the perfume community lead me to suspect, albeit vaguely, that some who rail against this house may despise the Chair for no other reason than that she is a she, who likely conducts herself in the manner of he-Chairs (her firm still exists, after all, eight years later), but is judged by a different set of standards altogether.

In any case, whatever the deeper reasons for this trend may be, it seems absurd to despise this house because of their gimmickry. Which house is devoid of the same? I reiteratively inquire. Gimmickry, my fellow fragrant friends, is the essence of marketing! So I say: rise above the kitsch and the glitz, and give these perfumes a fair sniff!

I LOVE NY FOR HEROkay, it's true, I cannot tell a lie: given the context of this launch (for which Bond no 9 has even lowered the prices!), I had somewhat low expectations for these perfumes, and I am happy to report that in the case of I LOVE NY FOR HER, they have been vastly exceeded. This composition is, as advertised, a pastry gourmand with a hefty dose of patchouli and a few flowers thrown in as a garnish. I have to confess that the “blueberry muffin” note sounded vaguely repulsive to me, but this perfume is not at all, although, to my great surprise, it does indeed smell very much like a blueberry muffin during the opening minutes! I LOVE NY FOR HER fits right in with the rampant sweet patchouli fad, but this particular version dries down to a nice, lightly spicy pie crust-like layer with serious wrist-sniffing potential. Definitely worth trying, if you're into gourmand perfumes.

FOR HER salient notes (from http://www.bondno9.com/): mandarin zest, spicy nutmeg, blueberry accord, roses, pink peonies, patchouli, musk, vanilla, sandalwood and leather accord

I LOVE NY FOR ALL
According to my manufacturer's card, this composition contains geranium, and I do believe that such a note would account for the dominant geranium-like scent. Married with coffee and patchouli, in addition to cocoa and vanilla, this smells quite scrumptious and compelling to my nose. I would love to have a bottle, to my great surprise.

I may be one of the only people to purchase I LOVE NY FOR ALL not because of but in spite of the bottle. I do “not” love New York, and I might even hate New York, but it's probably not safe to say such a thing these days. It sounds so unpatriotic that I might be branded as a terrorist suspect. And, as we all know, this government equates suspects and terrorists, so I could quite easily end up on the Predator drone “capture or kill and preferably the latter” list... So let's just leave it at I do *not* love New York. The good news is: the I LOVE NY logo on these bottles is a peel-off sticker, which means that once they have been removed, they will look very, very sleek!

I recall having been disappointed to discover that many of the Bond no 9 bottles are decorated with peel-off labels rather than being printed directly on the glass surface (as is the case with my bottle of Chinatown, happily). But here, what I would ordinarily regard as a design flaw proves to make it possible to improve the final design presentation--demonstrating, once again, that a glass half empty really is half full!

FOR ALL salient notes (from http://www.bondno9.com/): bergamot, muguet, pepper, cocoa lmr, coffee beans, creamy chestnut, patchouli, vanilla, leatherwood (???) and sandalwood

I LOVE NY FOR HIM
This is a good example of the truism that some fragrances really do smell more appropriate on men than on women. Certainly what we have here is a familiar, if not hackneyed, theme: an aromatic woody cologne with a big dose of cedarishness (iso-E-super?) and the typical complement of notes characteristic of masculine colognes. Nothing about this smells new or interesting to me. I LOVE NY FOR HIM is definitely my least favorite of the trio, but it might make a good choice for a guy who just wants a generic cologne in a keepsake bottle. Someone who would leave the label on.

FOR HIM salient notes (from http://www.bondno9.com/): ginger, juniper berry, grapefruit zest, lavender, geranium, patchouli, leather, sandalwood, labdanum, musk and amber.

(adapted from reviews posted at fragrantica.com on November 3, 2011)

Reblogging Posts from Il Mondo di Odore

It was brought to my attention that the posts at Il Mondo di Odore are no longer accessible by unaffiliated persons, so I have decided to reblog them here. Let's start at the very beginning, a very good place to start...