Givenchy- Eau de Givenchy (Vintage EDT)

There's no way around this: Eau de Givenchy in its original form smells like a time traveler. It's the oakmoss.

Yesterday I reviewed here a very modern perfume, Donna Karan Pure DKNY, a fragrance that represents what I see as the wrong side of clean and fresh. But what do I know? Loving the clean scents of yore, those based on sharp green florals, biting citrus and oakmoss make me just as much a relic as my bottle of Eau de Givenchy. Once upon a time this was considered a light daytime, almost sporty perfume. You'd spray and wait for that bracing astringent feeling to take over and make you feel... fresh. You'd relish the crispness of the herbal notes that suggests good personal hygiene, put on a white seater and leave the house basking in your scent.

Eau de Givenchy quickly moves into oakmoss territory and stays there. It's plush, rich and plays beautifully with the green flower notes such as muguet and marigold. One's reaction to Eau de Givenchy is entirely dependent on how he or she feels about real chypres in general and real oakmoss in particular. Many a young nose find them horribly dated. Others just want to roll in them the way my cat Lizzy rolls on a bunch of parsley. I'm with Lizzy here, loving oakmoss and missing perfumes built around it and around a real green heart that doesn't smell synthetic.

Notes: bergamot, spearmint, tagetes, greens, fruits, honeysuckle, jasmine, muguet, tuberose, rose, cyclamen, orris, musk, cedarwood, sandalwood and oakmoss.

Eau de Givenchy was withdrawn for a while and re-released in 2007 or 2008 as part of the Les Mythiques de Givenchy collection in the new bottles (in few department stores on this side of the pond, easier to find in Europe). Considering IFRA restrictions on the use of oakmoss in perfume, your guess on what's in those rectangular bottles is as good as mine.

Image: model in Givenchy on the cover of L'Official, a French fashion magazine, June 1968

Donna Karan - Pure DKNY

The first twenty minutes or so of Donna Karan Pure DKNY aren't too bad. The first time I tested it I remember thinking "well, I can sort of live with this today". I guess I was in an incredible good and forgiving mood, because while it is, indeed, an aquatic floral as I was warned, I could smell that vanilla drop and hoped for the best. The best never came.

I would have been happy with a musky skin scent, something cuddly and mostly innocent like Kate Walsh Boyfriend that came along later last year and surprised everyone by actually being nice. I wanted the equivalent of the first ad but instead got the second, assuming that kid is fully potty trained.

 I don't get any skin and warmth from Pure DKNY.  I can't think of any other perfumes right now that manage to be musky and aquatic at the same time. Maybe it's a new category,  the culmination of fragrances made to smell like fabric softener, because focus groups don't want to smell like perfume. They want to smell clean. And fresh. And have I mentioned clean?

By the time an hour passes I feel and smell like my shower is chasing me. Or maybe the house has become humid and because all the faucets are leaking and the cats knocked down a bottle of detergent and someone turned the heat all the way up and somewhere there's a flower dying. Yes, Donna Karan has created a nightmare. But it's a clean nightmare, right?

Pure DKNY doesn't last very long and doesn't leave any kind of impression once its gone. Perfume enthusiasts often lament and/or make fun of SAs who try to sell us the Jus de Jour touting its amazing freshness and lightness and how you'd feel like you just stepped out of the shower. We all know the spiel and some of us just want to go after the SA and spray him or her with some MKK.

Donna Karan - Pure DKNY, $85 for 3.4 oz at Sephora.

Krigler- Cosy Cedar Wood

I don't know who formed the notion that dry wood perfumes are masculine and do not belong in a woman's wardrobe. Why are bitter green perfumes or warm and very dry ones automatically labelled as manly? Seriously, I am and have always been as girly as they come, but I'm more likely to covet and wear cedar and cypress than magnolia and rose. And considering skin chemistry, my nearest and dearest should be thankful for that.

Krigler is one of those little NYC secrets, though the brand was actually born in Europe around the turn of the (20th) century. The house's archives include around 200 scents created over the span of one hundred years, but the perfumery as we know it today was reopened and reinvented in the NY Plaza Hotel in 2009. Cosy Cedar Wood was created in 1972 as a perfume for men. It's a straight-laced kind of thing. Dry, smooth and completely devoid of sweetness or darkness. But Krigler still managed to hide a little surprise there. Just as I thought I figured it all out and that Cosy Cedar Wood is all about warmth, spice and the inside of a long cabin in the woods, there's a second element, prickly-but-not-quite green, a whiff of  incense and an almost conifer-like sharpness. Maybe someone opened a window and let the night air in.

It's the cypress and the rosemary that are a bit too sharp for my taste and take away from the smooth and dry feel of the perfume. It's not unpleasant and actually ends up smelling really nice on my skin, but I prefer the incredible comfort of the dry sauna (such a favorite winter treat) I get from the first hour or so of the scent. All in all, Krigler's Cosy Cedar Wood is, indeed, cozy, woody and incredibly nice. It smells well-bred and a little country club in the best possible way. It's not the kind of perfume that would make most weak at the knees but it's attractive and nicely done.The sillage is polite and longevity is excellent (a couple of drops last most of the day and longer than that on clothes).

Notes: Cedar wood from India, lemon, ylang-ylang, fig, cypress, rosemary, vetiver, nutmeg and incense.

Cosy Cedar Wood ($145, 1.7oz) is available from krigler.com where you can also order samples, as well as the small boutique in the Plaza (which is where I obtained my sample).

Image: Spinnerin 1967 from myvintagevogue.com.

Givenchy Harvest 2007 Amarige Mimosa

This one is Abigail's fault. She reviewed Givenchy Harvest 2007 Amarige Mimosa on I Smell Therefore I Am, made me go look for it and fall ridiculously in love. It's even more surprising because it's not that Mimosa 2007 isn't even trying to hide its relationship with Amarige, a perfume to which I've been opposed for years (and forcing me to reevaluate* my stand on that one as well).

So, yes, Givenchy Harvest 2007 Mimosa is a gentrified Amarige. I've always considered the original a vulgar fruity-floral with a toxic tuberose (coming from someone who loves Michael it has to mean something) and a cheap vanilla base. In Mimosa 2007 the offending part, the melon note, was replaced with a hefty dose of sunny florals, especially violets and a nice helping of high-quality mimosa, both the French variety from Grasse and the more exotic Tamil Nadu mimosa from south-east India. It's the honeyed smooth influence of the mimosa that brings out the best of the peach and plum notes from the opening notes and makes them round and summery. I also smell the violets quite distinctly which is another nice improvement.

The overall impression of Givenchy Amarige Mimosa Harvest is honeyed, a bit fuzzy and quite ambery, in color and in nature. The base is much more refined than the original, despite very similar notes of cashmeran wood, tonka bean, benzoine and vanilla. I'm guessing that this limited edition perfume won the better ingredients and probably also had the proportions tweaked a little for smoothness. It's still very sweet and some might find it treacly, and definitely strong (in his review of the original Amarige, Luca Turin has suggested that if one must wear it, not only you should do it in private but also seal the windows. I can't really blame him for the sentiment). But I also find it not only wearable but also delightful and satisfying.

Notes: Mimosa (Tamil Nadu), Neroli, Rosewood, Mimosa leaves, Violet, Cassie, Gardenia, Jasmine, Mimosa (Grasse), Orange blossom, Ylang-ylang, Cashmeran, Sandalwood, Amber, Vanilla.

*My enjoyment of my Amarige Mimosa bottle has forced me to dig up a mini of the original Givenchy bomb I've been keeping for reference. I have a little extrait de parfum circa 1999 or 2000, which is only slightly less intrusive and violent than the common EDT. I smell the similarities and can appreciate even more the work done on Mimosa. I still find Amarige very difficult, even if I can now deal with it, at least in extrait, where the tuberose is not a monstrous mutant and I do wear the ambery dry-down pretty well. Still, I placed the bottle back in the back of the cabinet, where it will remain until further notice.

All the Givenchy Harvest perfumes are released as a limited edition. The 2007 Amarige Mimosa is sold out now, but there was also a 2009 version (I haven't tried it) that can still be found here and there.

Images-
Fashion illustration of  Givenchy leopard print from inkbramble.com
Givench Fall 2011 from WWD

Krizia- Teatro Alla Scala

There's something about the incredible lushness of 1980s Italian perfumes. Just like the original Fendi (1985), Teatro Alla Scala by Krizia comes from the same school of thought that a real woman needs to be smelled as well as seen. I'm all for that.

Teatro Alla Scala walks the line between a rich floriental and an animalic chypre. It has a very strong core of honey that goes with both the floral notes and the dark base, making it that much dirtier and more sumptuous at the same time. If this Krizia perfume were an object, I'd see it as a patent leather belt in a very dark burgundy color, bordering on maroon. Something with the feel of 1980s couture, just a little overdone.

You know that it's not an everyday casual perfume from the very first smell of the opening. Teatro Alla Scala gives you all it's got as soon as you spray it (maybe dubbing would be better, by the way, but I haven't tried). Dry fruit in honeyed mulled wine gilded with aldehydes. Usually aldehyde notes serve to lighten up and make a perfume feel fizzy and sparkling, but here they contribute to the ornamental baroque atmosphere. The opulence continues with a heart of blended flowers in full bloom. The rose is identifiable, but it mostly melts into the honey and darker base notes.

Once Teatro Alla Scala is in full bloom, the resemblance to Fendi is most evident. There's sweetness and lots of oakmoss involved, marking it with the 80s stamp and draping a one's shoulder with a plush coat. When Krizia released Teatro Alla Scalla people still wore Poison to the office. Nowadays this is something I'd reserve for a night out (or in), and usually dress appropriately. Big hair not necessary.

Notes (via Fragrantica): Top notes are aldehydes, coriander, fruity notes and bergamot; middle notes are carnation, tuberose, orris root, jasmine, beeswax, ylang-ylang, rose and geranium; base notes are patchouli, musk, benzoin, civet, oakmoss, vetiver and incense.

Krizia has discontinued Teatro Alla Scala. I verified it by checking the brand's website, which is magnificently awful. It has the most ridiculous information architecture, annoying Flash and not a word in English. To find their perfume range one needs to look under the most recent fashion collection and go into the accessories section. Thankfully, finding bottles of Teatro Alla Scala doesn't take that much effort as they still pop out online here and there, miraculously at better prices than Fendi.

Photo of Krizia 1986 fashion from dearjackie.net.

Jennifer Aniston by Jennifer Aniston

There are many question marks hanging over Jennifer Aniston's eponymous perfume. Starting  with "why now"? and ending with the actual name of the EDP. It's easier to answer the latter. Originally, when the perfume was first announced last year it was called Lolavie and described as meaning "laughing at life". There were even press images of the bottle with the name Lolavie printed on it. The public reaction to the name wasn't very favorable. It was everything from LOL@Vie to LOL@Jen, so the name was scrapped and the perfume's launch delayed by a few months  (it makes me wonder if  Mariah Carey and Alicia Silverstone would have reconsidered the names they gave their newborns had they known what kind of internet tabloid ridicule would come their way).

There were a few rumors about a new name, many thought it was going to be Debut, probably because the new promotional material stated "Introducing Her Debut Perfume". Some people still mistake it to be the actual name, but it's not. The perfume is called Jennifer Aniston. It could have been worse.

In one of the many interviews she gave pre-launch, Ms. Aniston talked about her inspiration for the scent: her love of the outdoors, the beach air, California and how she wanted it to be a nonperfume. She also remarked (to the chagrin of many a lover of classic perfume) that she wished to get away from anything resembling her mother's Caleche. That was the first sign of what we were going to get in the the bottle (inspired by modern architecture and referencing the flow of a Frank Gehry building- wasn't that Brad's thing?).

Then came the big world debut at Harrods, of all places, at a highly inflated price that didn't reflect what anyone was smelling. New and fresh? Hardly.  Jennifer Aniston (the perfumes) opens up with that familiar department store barely-citrus note and becomes a watered-down floral, a gardeniafied lily-like thing that doesn't dare go all the way to tropic territory (I guess that's too perfumy for Aniston) and dries down to the most generic and cloying sweet plastic musk I've come across in recent months.

Bottom Line: smells like the last two seasons of Friends.

Notes (from Sephora): Citrus Grove Accord, Rose Water, Jasmine, Violet, Amazon Lily, Musk, Amber, Sandalwood.

Jennifer Aniston by Jennifer aniston ($39, 1 oz) is available from Sephora.

Parfumerie Generale- Bois Blond

When Parfumerie Generale first released Bois Blond in early 2007 it was a limited edition. Perhaps Pierre Guillaume never expected this odd non-perfume to become popular. Maybe it was an experiment, who knows. The limited edition problem and the short period of time Bois Blond was unavailable/hard to find caused so many  fans to email, plead and beg for more. Luckily, Parfumerie Generale relented and added Bois Blond to the Private Collection line.

Bois Blond is dry dry dry. It's all about grass baking in the heat, hay and tobacco. It has the galbanum bitterness (but none of the green feel that usually accompanies this note), though as the scent expands on the skin it gains a musky quality and loses that particular edge. At times Bois Blond smells very woody, but to me it is mostly an open horizon, a vast hay field that stretches for miles and smells like a never-ending summer day. It reminds me of the early days of dating the Blond. He grew up on a dairy farm and took me on many a walk in the freshly harvested fields. I'm not and have never been a country girl, but the smell of hay is delicious (as long as you're in a safe distance from the cowsheds).

Bois Blond is comforting and promising in winter and even more phenomenal in the summer. The dryness is bracing, fresh and clean in the best possible way. Pierre Guillaume created the antidote to sweaty August days in a perfume that makes even NYC smell better. , while maintaining a personal relationship with one's skin. At times I feel an animalic aspect in the dry-down, something about its sweet muskiness. Still, it's a very polite perfume to wear even in crowded spaces. I think it smells outdoorsy and almost natural, and it goes beautifully with a crisp and lightly starched white shirt, his or hers.  Some consider Bois Blond as masculine, but since when is a good roll in the hay gender-exclusive? I love wearing this Parfumerie Generale fragrance because it's so beautiful, sunny and satisfying. It tolerates heavy spraying because the sillage is quite minimal, even though it clings to my skin for hours (and once after accidentally spraying the palm of my hand I discovered Bois Blond survives hand washing).

Notes (from Luckyscent): cereals, grass, galbanum, cedar, hay, blond tobacco, amber, musk.

Bois Blond ($110, 50ml) and the rest of the Parfumerie Generale line can be found at Luckyscent.

Art: Late Fall Field by Josef Kote

Robert Piguet- Calypso

I was browsing vintage fashion illustration done for Robert Piguet couture house in the 1930s and 40s and wished I could see the clothes and smell more of the iconic perfumes in their original form (I have some vintage Bandit). Somehow, I doubt the 2010 Piguet's  reissue of Calypso is what it used to be.

To be fair, Calypso smells better in the bottle and on a test strip than on my skin, so perhaps there's a lot of skin chemistry at play here. Overall, this Piguet perfume (re-orchestrated or whatever you wish to call it by the otherwise talented  Aurelien Guichard) is the feminine equivalent of the bland Cravache. Calypso is mostly floral and vaguely citrusy, and despite the official promise of an ambery dry-down (the notes listed below look quite delicious), my nose is mostly missing any of the base notes here. Suede? I wish. Calypso lacks something to make it interesting or at least semi-memorable . It's kind of pleasant but develops like a cheap body spray, and is mostly gone without leaving a trace a couple of hours later.

Octavian Coifan, who's equally unimpressed with Calypso, speaks about the structure and materials used. I might be anosmic to the musk used here and I already know that certain ambroxan compositions also barely translate for my nose, so maybe I'm simply not smelling the full picture. However, based on Octavian's review, I'm not missing much.

Notes (via Fragrantica)-
Top notes: mandarin and geranium. Heart: Bulgarian rose, orris root and rose centifolia. Base: patchouli, amber and suede.

Calypso by Robert Piguet ($85, 1.7 oz) is available from Neiman Marcus, Bergdorf Goodman and Henri Bendel.

Robert Piguet 1947 fashion illustration by Roger Descombes from hprints.com.

Pierre Cardin- Rose Cardin

Rose Cardin from the house of designer Pierre Cardin was released in 1990, right on the cusp of a certain change in perfumery from the 1980s big and bigger style to the weird 90s, a decade that gave us all that's wrong in light and airy while also watching women marinating in Angel and nasty fruity body sprays that don't resemble any fruit that has ever grown on God's green Earth. Looking at the note list of Rose Cardin one might worry that it is one of the sticky concoctions, but upon smelling you realize this Pierre Cardin creation has probably more in common with some of the classics of yore than with anything from the 90s.

For a start, Rose Cardin smells like a proper perfume- flowers, spice, a rich heart and a musky sweet dry-down. The opening is a giggly girly thing, as pink as the bottle threatens it might be. It turns a bit soapy at some point- like a really nice French rose-scented soap that leaves its sillage in one's home, on towels and in closets. But things become more personal and a bit dirty as  Rose Cardin gains some fruit, a lot of musk (I accidentally layered it with MKK one day to delicious results) and a somewhat darker non-soapy rose. These are older petals, dried as a memento from a glorious romantic summer day.

Yes, it is romantic. Bordering on kitsch just enough to make Rose Cardin fun and quirky, but ultimately its beauty wins. This is a fabulous perfume, complex and rich enough as to not bore me even a little. It smells a little synthetic around the edges, not quite as refined as some wonderful rose-centered perfumes I have in my collection. But even as a campy and a little trashy fragrance, Rose Cardin maintains a level of fabulousness you rarely find in mainstream perfumes nowadays.

Notes: aldehydes, Moroccan tarragon, clove, nutmeg, coriander, rosewood, spicy rose, jasmine, peach, apricot, iris, lily of the valley, ylang-ylang, carnation, honey, sandalwood, vanilla, amber, patchouli, musk.

While Rose Cardin seems to have vanished from the shelves of legitimate retailers in the US, according to Pierre Cardin's website it is most definitely in production and should be available in Europe, though the website lacks the little but important bit of information about actually purchasing anything.

Images:
1995 Rose Cardin perfume ad from an online auction
1959 fashion/beauty photograph from myvintagevogue.com

Leonard- Tamango (Vintage EDT)

Tamango by Leonard was my signature scent somewhere around junior and senior year of high school in the late 80s. At that time Tamango has already been on the market for a few years (since 1982) but wasn't particularly popular, just as the fashion house of Leonard wasn't exactly Calvin Klein. I was perfectly fine with that.

Tamango was a nice progression for me from Le Jardin and Anaïs Anaïs . The floral aldehydic chypre smelled a lot more grown up to me and I liked the sophistication of the oakmoss kick, even if at 16 I couldn't name or identify it. I don't remember how I felt about the aldehydes in the opening- since my mom used to be quite averse to such scents I never associated this style with older generations. I probably just enjoyed the perfuminess of the composition.

Wearing Tamango today is an odd experience. It certainly brings back some memories and as I've been spraying it quite often preparing to write this review I've had frequent high school dreams, including people I haven't seen or thought about since graduation day. So, yes, in a way Tamango is getting to me. Still, I'm smelling this Leonard perfume with my 40 year old nose and I like it a lot. The aldehydes from the top notes might date it a little, but there's a lovely Frenchness to the way it wears- flowers, especially cool iris, that make Tamango very lady-like, in a similar fashion to Chanel No. 19, just with a sweeter and smoother base and not as  pulled-together. The poor woman's Chanel? Maybe, but still better than most.

There's a lot of oakmoss the vintage Tamango EDT but the full dry-down feels almost like an oriental. It's a little sweet, a little woody and very flirty. While Balahe by Leonard is much more my style today, I'm glad to have Tamango back in my collection its in original form (I'm still kicking myself for losing an auction five years ago for a vintage extrait de parfum, but the EDT is nice and familiar). It might not be something a high-school senior would choose to wear, but modern Tamango is no longer the same as it used to be, so I guess we all lose.

Notes (via Fragrantica): bergamot, green notes, spices, rose, lily-of-the-valley, orchid, iris, carnation, sandalwood, amber, oakmoss and tonka bean.

Tamango 1982 ad from vintageadbrowser.com
Leonard and Bergdorf Goodman fashion ad featuring model Tatjana Patitz from hprints.com

Kate Walsh- Boyfriend

I never watched Grey's Anatomy or Private Practice, so I mostly knew Kate Walsh from her red carpet appearances and the occasional talk show interview where she seemed like an intelligent well-spoken actress who supports several causes that are also close to my heart. Kate Walsh's look is more unique than cute, she's not very likely to appear in Transformers or a Judd Apatow movie, and I doubt teenagers, girls or boys, have put her posters on their bedroom walls. All that means Kate Walsh was not the first name that sprang to mind as the next celebrity perfume candidate.

Perhaps that's a good enough reason to pay attention to her perfume, Boyfriend.

I actually like the concept. Kate Walsh wanted a perfume that reminded her of the scent a beloved man leaves behind- on your pillow or the hoodie you borrowed from him. Nowhere in the promotion materials or interviews I've seen with her did Ms. Walsh said anything about "light and fresh" or any of the crap that usually accompanies attempts to sell modern mainstream perfume (and translates in reality to chemical melon, radioactive water and cotton candy). The idea of smelling like a warm person is actually very appealing, at least if you're into the skankier side of scent.

I'm amused to think any of Kate Walsh's boyfriends have smelled like a buttery toasted coconut with a hint of vanilla. Not that there's anything wrong with that. Boyfriend is a cozy cashmere scent with a fuzzy musk dry-down. It's cleaner than Kiehl's and less powdery than Clair de Musc. There's a nice woody incense there that's a bit spoiled by a not very compatible sharp note (I'm guessing really cheap jasmine). The annoying note is gone after about 45 minutes to an hour and is not horrible or anything, but I prefer my woody musks smoother. Maybe an iris would have made a nicer heart note. When all the notes come together and melt on my skin the warm buttery coconut becomes a lot more pronounced and I really like it. Boyfriend becomes very soft and cuddly, not too sweet despite the ambery vanilla base and very inviting.

Kate Walsh's Boyfriend is a staying-in perfume, or a Sunday afternoon stroll on a wintery weekend, when you admire the city and eventually take refuge at a cozy bistro, sit by the fire and indulge in a hearty soup. It's intimate, romantic and while not very original, still miles ahead just about any other perfumes you can find at Sephora (not to mention at this price point).

Notes (from Sephora): plum, myrrh, jasmine, benzoin, musk, amber, vanilla, woods.

P.S. My husband seems to be mostly anosmic to Boyfriend. I could probably make a joke or two about that.

Kate Walsh Boyfriend ($35, 0.5oz EDP) is available at Sephora and from HSN.com. The bottle I have was part of a gift bag at a FiFi Awards event.

Photo by Sanjay D Gohil.

Diptyque 34 Boulevard Saint Germain

Diptyque is not the first brand to use a significant address as the name of a perfume. Hermes and Chanel have already done it with 24 Faubourg and 31 Rue Cambon. Diptyque's spin on this is composing their 50th anniversary perfume, 34 Boulevard Saint Germain, to actually evoke the smell of the boutique itself by using elements from some of their classic perfumes. Nice idea.

I remember visiting the now defunct Diptyque store in Boston a few years ago and the place smelled delicious. After all, we're talking Diptyque, not Sephora's hall of dreck. The problem with this kind of composition is that it's a bit too vague and not very personal. Perfume to me should smell like much more than a room spray (though I admit some of Diptyque's Parfum d'Interieur are as so wonderful I'd gladly wear them). 34 Boulevard Saint Germain smells very nice, more on my husband than one me, but it's just not enough.

Beyond the spicy and balsamic notes that surround the green opening (fig and I could swear there's a hint of galbanum), the whole impression is of a well-made and expensive fougère. 34 Boulevard Saint Germain smells better than 90% of masculine colognes on the mainstream market, but that's not why one buys a Diptyque perfume.

Notes: blackcurrant, fig leaves, pink pepper, citrus, clove, cinnamon, cardamom, rose, geranium, iris, tuberose, violet, woods, and balsamic notes.

Diptyque 34 Boulevard Saint Germain ($135, 3.4 oz) is available from the usual suspects- Aedes, Luckyscent, Beauty Habit, Barneys, Saks and others.

Photos of Diptyque Paris boutique on 34 Boulevard Saint Germain circa 1961 from meccacosmetica.com.au/blog

Amouage Opus IV Library Collection

The first time I tested Opus IV from Amouage Library Collection I applied it just before bed and right away though: "oops, cumin!". I was worried the husband might protest and object to sharing his bed and cats with a hefty dose of this spice. But all went well, spouse and felines were not offended and I could keep on wearing Amouage Opus 4 around my nearest and dearest. Which means I've had plenty of opportunities to test it and develop an opinion.

So, do I like it?

I'm not sure.

What I mean is that while I certainly don't dislike this Amouage offering from their Library Collection I cannot say I'm smitten. It's... OK, I guess, which is definitely not what the creators (and the price tag) would demand. I like spicy incense perfumes and Opus IV is definitely a good one. It also feels at least semi-original, thanks to the combination of notes. There's a fruity aspect (not the perfume's shiniest moment, I admit) and a very feminine floral moment that's almost powdery and girly, but not quite. Mostly there's spice and incense that keep things serious and very grownup, except for a somewhat disturbing foody and chewy accord: Dane at Pere de Pierre calls it a bubblegum note, and I sort of agree. It's like the sexy school teacher/librarian who all of a sudden starts chewing in the classroom.

I do like the incense part and think that it's far better done than Etat Libre d'Orange Encense et Bubblegum. That one is cute and trashy, While Amouage Opus IV has some sort of an identity crisis. I'd like it more had it kept the horn-rimmed glasses and pencil skirt. It's a better look for all of us.

Notes (via Luckyscent): Coriander oil, lemon, mandarin, grapefruit, elemi oil, cardamom, cumin, rose berries, rose, violet leaves, peru balsam, labdanum, frankincense, musk.

Amouage Opus IV Library Collection ($325, 100ml EDP) is available from Luckyscent, MiN New York and other authorized Amouage retailers, such as Jacqueline Parfumerie in San Francisco that provided my sample. Amouage is donating fifty percent of the worldwide profits from Opus IV to the National HIV/AIDS prevention and Control Program in Oman.


Photo of Olivia Williams from the movie An Education from hotflick.net.

May Day Muguet- A Joint Blogging Project

And all of a sudden it's May.

Green and lush, sweet, intoxicating, lusty but also innocent and full of hope. May is a month of birthdays (my husband and wonderful almost three year old niece) and wedding anniversaries (my sister). Happiness is in the intoxicating air and it has a scent- lily-of-the-valley.

Lily-of-the-valley, muguet in French and in perfume-speak, symbolizes the return of happiness. It was a significant flower in Kate Middleton's bridal bouquet, which I'm sure smelled heavenly. It's also an important note in many a classic spring perfume, such as Diorissimo (at least originally) and Coty Muguet de Bois. Normally I have more than a minor aversion to muguet in perfume. There's something there that rarely sits well with me. The real thing is lovely, though nearly impossible to capture naturally. But over the last few months I've discovered a new appreciation for this note when done right.

Dawn Spencer Hurwitz of DSH Perfumes does it right.

Very very right.

Muguet de Mai (feminine) and Muguet Cologne (masculine) are both natural perfumes, something that is close to a miracle. And they smell like one. As true to the flower as it can be, both  in the tender green feel and in a heartbreaking beauty. Muguet de Mai is soft, warmed by the sun, sweet and smooth as honey. It's joyful and looks up at the blue spring sky. Muguet Cologne is earthy and a little smoky. Its green part is almost juicy and I can almost taste it. The smoky and woody elements are smooth and mellow- on my skin they become sweeter than on my husband's, and despite the "Cologne" part of the name, it lasts on me for very long hours.

Wearing Muguet de Mai is uplifting and centering. The way this DSH perfume melds with the skin is typical to natural perfumes- it becomes part of you and feels a lot more warm and intimate than regular floral perfumes. It's all that's good about spring and summer and is.  As for Muguet Cologne's masculinity, it is still very wearable for women who like  leafy greens and have been borrowing (vintage) bottles of Grey Flannel from the men in their lives.



Muguet de Mai notes:
bergamot, lemon, galbanum, violet leaf, freesia accord,  hyacinth accord, Tunisian neroli, linden blossom, cyclamen accord, broom, boronia, sambac jasmine, rose otto, ylang ylang, jonquil, lilac accord  , orris co2, cassis bud, honey beeswax, aged East Indian sandalwood, Virginia cedarwood, tolu balsam, olibanum and styrax resin.

Muguet Cologne notes:
lemon, bergamot, white grapefruit, galbanum, coriander, chamomile, hyacinth accord, Tunisian neroli, geranium, jasmine sambac, orris co2, linden blossom, rose otto, violet leaf, Australian sandalwood, Virginia cedarwood, olibanum, tolu balsam, vetiver, patchouli, and oakmoss.

Please visit the other participants in this May Day project:
DSH Notebook
Scent Hive
Indie Perfumes
Perfume Shrine
CaFleureBon

DSH Perfumes Muguet de Mai and Muguet Cologne are a very limited edition, available from dshperfumes.com:  There are only nine antique presentation flacons of Muguet de Mai perfume,  at $125;  a generous size sample at $22 and varying sizes of the Muguet Cologne from a sample vial for $5.25 to 10 ml $45 and 1 ounce at $98. My samples were sent directly from the perfumer.

Images:
Muguet de Mai by Dawn Spencer Hurwitz
Kate Middleton's bridal bouquet from the official Royal Family photo album on Flickr, courtesy of Clarence House.

Leonard- Balahé

Balahé, a 1983 perfume from the fashion house of Leonard, is yet another proof that once upon a time you didn't have to go to great length to find interesting and  creative quality perfumes. They used to be everywhere. Balahé is a big and somewhat cluttered oriental, the kind that includes just about any note one would want. It's not as assertive and big shouldered as the most memorable classics from that decade, thus it's far less dated or difficult to wear on a daily basis. Still, it has all the markings of a signature perfume for a fashionable yet quirky person from back then.

The opening of Balahe is green and herbal with a very pronounced clary sage and anise battle-axe (years ago I used to think there was lavender, but it's all anise now). It feels quite gender neutral before the warm and round fruity notes (lots and lots of rich sweet plum) join the fun. It's still not too femme or frilly in my opinion, but what do I know? I do think that men who enjoy a little powdery woods and a good oriental base should give this Leonard perfume a try, because even with the nice serving of vanilla and a somewhat creamy floral heart (I get more orris and ylang ylang than anything else from the listed notes), Balahe is not too sweet and has a fine woody backbone with a hint of creamy sandalwood.

Back in the 1980s, as a teenager, Balahe would have been what I considered a grownup womanly perfume. While I was clueless and misguided regarding just about anything and everything (I certainly have the ex boyfriends and  to prove it, and also some equally cringe-worthy old diaries), I did have a reasonably good nose for perfume and I would have been spot-on about this one. It is sexy, rich and velvety, way more sophisticated than my tapered ankle acid wash jeans would have been able to handle. My 40 year old self with a formidable perfume collection thinks it's a beautiful perfume and I'm delighted to have it.

Notes (via Fragrantica): Top notes are aldehydes, pineapple, coriander, plum, mandarin orange, clary sage, anise and bergamot; middle notes are tuberose, orris, orchid, orris root, jasmine, ylang-ylang, rose and orange blossom; base notes are sandalwood, opoponax, musk, civet, vanilla and vetiver.

Checking the Leonard Paris website I see Balahé is no longer in production (Tamango, surprisingly, is still with us, but I can tell you from testing it's not the same) . Bottles of the EDT are widely available online and usually for very reasonable prices.

Old Balahe ads from imagesdeparfums.fr

Prada Infusion de Tubéreuse

Those familiar with Turin-Sanchez Perfumes (The A-Z Guide) know the quippy little labels they use at the top of their reviews. They write things like "cheap iris", "fruity barbershop" or "not gardenia" and it helps you place the perfume on an imaginary spectrum of good vs. dreck.  Were I to do the same thing, this review would have been  titled "hardly tuberose". Unoriginal yet true.

While Prada's first Infusion, Infusion d'Iris had a certain charm in its quiet woody watercolor paleness with just enough iris to not make most of us cranky, other Infusions didn't fare so well. Week, meek, as synthetic as they come and composed in a way that made it painfully obvious they were catering to the kind of consumer who like the name Prada a lot more than he or she like to wear real perfume. And speaking of painful, murdering the idea of a tuberose is criminal, and not in a Tubéreuse Criminelle way (lame pun, I know).

Infusion de Tubéreuse is exactly the opposite of everything I think of the style and aesthetics of Prada. I remember the first time I ever saw some ready-to-wear Prada in person and touched the clothes. None of the items were actually my style, but I could not deny the inspired concepts and colors. I was captivated. Don't bother looking for it in this perfume. The notes (via Perfume Shrine) are Indian tuberose, petitgrain bigararde, Italian blood orange and dynamone (a faintly ambery aromachemical). But, seriously, they could have put whatever they want in that list. Infusion de Tubéreuse smells like a pale and watery floral nothing with a vaguely musky base and a hint of greenish fruit.

As one would expect, Prada Infusion de Tubéreuse has a very limited sillage. It is surprisingly tenacious, though. Just like the case with Infusion d'Iris, you think it's long gone but if you pay attention, even 8 hours after application you realize that the annoying slimy thing that has been following you all day making you borderline cranky is this pale and supposedly humble perfume (why am I thinking about Uriah Heep?). It just won't go away. It's interesting to note that my skin there's barely-to none tuberose, but if I spray some on my clothes or linens I can actually smell a faraway ghostly trace of the flower. Not very satisfying, I assure you.

Prada Infusion de Tubéreuse ($100, 3.4 oz EDP) is available from most department stores. The bottle I have was part of a gift bag at the FiFi Award breakfast.

Art: Ghost Flower by Kristina Layton.

Hermès Eau des Merveilles

There are several Hermes Merveilles perfumes on the market, including a new(ish) version/flanker whatever you want to call it. Tonight I'm talking about the original Eau de Merveilles EDT from 2004. I have and love all three concentrations (Elixir des Merveilles EDP and Parfum de Merveilles) for different reasons. Eau is the least gourmand of the three- there's no chocolate there and the orange is bitter, mineralized and inedible- very much like the way the same note works in Terre d'Hermes. Surprisingly, Eau des Merveilles was composed by Ralf Schwieger and Nathalie Feisthauer, not a Jean-Claude Ellena (unlike the other Merveilles or Terre). It certainly smells like a sibling not only to Terre but also to Ellena's Voyage d'Hermès.

But don't let the whole roster of Merveilles and Merveilles-like perfumes fool you. Eau has a very distinct personality. It smells like a perfect, not too hot summer day spent on a clean and remote beach. You lie there in the sun, your fingers spread to enhance the sensation of the grainy, shiny yellow-white sand. You play with it a little, soaking up the heat, paying attention to the way the tiny particles settle as you pour them across your body. There's some stickiness involved, from the juice of the orange you peeled  and ate a bit messily. The orange dripped a little, making more sand stick to your hand , but you don't really mind. . The scent mingles naturally with the salty breeze coming from the ocean. It's cool and warm at the same time, making you hyper-aware of every nuance- including the old tattered leather of the bag you placed under your head. There are white round and smooth pebbles scattered by. You pick one up and put in your bag. A souvenir from a perfect day. Every time you hold it in your palm you feel some of that hypnotizing warmth and recall the way the air smelled.

Eau de Merveilles is quite strong- maybe not the 24+ hours of Terre d'Hermes, but two careful sprays keep me scented from morning to night, even (or especially, I'm never quite certain) on hot days when it's quite volatile. Eau de Merveilles blooms and spreads in the heat, but the salty air (supposedly there's some real ambergris in there, from an old batch kept in the Hermes vaults or something) keeps it from being too heavy. The stickiness is all in my mind.

Notes: lemon, orange, pink pepper, ambergris, violet, cedar, oakmoss, fir.

Hermès Eau des Merveilles ($95,  1.6oz) is available from Hermes boutiques, Sephora, many department stores and hermes.com. A quick online search would reveal much lower prices from reliable online retailers.

Photo by Frank Horvat, 1987 for Frankfurter Allgemeine Magazine.

L'Artisan Parfumeur Safran Troublant

Safran Troublant by Olivia Giacobetti for L'Artisan Parfumeur was launched in 2002, the same year as another saffron-rose perfume, Donna Karan's Black Cashmere. They don't have much in common, though. Black Cashmere comes from the heart of darkness. It lures you in and hypnotizes with its incense, and is so dark you can almost start humming the Imperial March and feel Darth Vader's black cloak swooshing by. Safran Troublant is the exact opposite. It's all pudding.

I love both, but for some reason only have a full bottle of Black Cashmere. Maybe because it took me a while to get behind my pudding-loving ways. There's no doubt that L'Artisan's Safran Troublant is easier to wear and friendlier for one's elevator and cubicle neighbors with its delicate milky aroma (sandalwood galore) and vanilla embrace. The rose in Safran Troublant is sweet and almost candied- I don't get any of the sourness that often accompanies roses on my skin. It's the same kind of rosewater that scents Turkish Delight. Safran Troublant has none of the spices that pierce Black Cashmere- no nutmeg, cinnamon or clove. As a matter of fact, I wouldn't have objected to some cardamom, or maybe a steamed rice accord. Then again, that might have taken it fully into the kitchen, and this is a L'Artisan perfume, after all, and people should be able to wear it without obsessively googling the nearest Turkish restaurant that can satisfy the all-consuming craving for a Zerde pudding.

L'Artisan Parfumeur Safran Troublant ($135, 100 ml EDT) is available from L'Artisan boutiques around the world, Aedes, MiN New York, Barneys, Henri Bendel, Beauty Habit and Luckyscent.

Photo: turkishcookbook.com

Etro Heliotrope

Heliotrope smells a little out of place in Etro perfume line. Etro fragrances tend to have somewhat of an edge or quirkiness to them. Heliotrope is very romantic and soft, has a dreamy quality and would be right at home in an antique bottle. As a matter of fact, I have a very vintage half-full bottle of Guerlain Heliotrope Blanc that smells a little more wicked than the innocent Etro Heliotrope.

Just as the name hints, Heliotrope is a floral-almond blend, powdery and puffy, like a pastry covered in vanilla-scented confectioners' sugar. There's a very strong gourmand facet to this Etro creation, but not completely. A bitter green streak runs from the top notes all the way down, even when the vanilla takes over. The green jasmine bothers me, actually. I like my soft powdery perfumes as soft as possible, Loukhoum and Louve-like. Heliotrope would appeal to those who like a big dose of white flowers in their sugar.

The overall impression I get from Heliotrope is very nostalgic, feminine but not utterly dainty. In the end, it's very pretty even if not my thing and doesn't sit on my skin as well as I would have liked.

From Fragrantica.com: Top notes are orange blossom, almond, petit grain and bergamot; middle notes are orris, jasmine, heliotrope, ylang-ylang and rose; base notes are tolu balsam, tonka bean, musk, vanilla and peru balsam.

Art: Joseph DeCamp, The Heliotrope Gown.

Norell Vintage Perfume

Considering the size of my perfume collection, vintage and other, and the breadth of my rotation, I probably have enough vintage Norell to last me decades. Perhaps a lifetime. Still I eye my bottles and worry.

Norman Norell created many a fabulous dress for decades. First for Hattie Carnegie, then under the Traina-Norell label.Finally from 1960 until his death in 1972, Norell's designs were labeled solely with his own name. As far as I could find out, the 1969 Norell perfume was the only one the designer had comissioned. Looking at photos and illustrations of Norell creations, I find the perfume shares something with those fabulous gowns. It's American, wearable and assertive, yet possesses a certain French flair. And it's a glorious green floral chypre.

I'm a sucker for galbanum-hyacinth-narcissus blends. There's something about the bitter green and almost-fragile beauty of the flower notes that gets to me every time. It's very different than plush and "pink" natured florals, a bit more reserved and mysterious, perhaps. These kind of scents have a nostalgic 1970s vibe to them, no matter when exactly they were created, and I place them in my mind together with the high fashion of that decade, a glamorous jet-set style that I seem to remember admiring as a young kid in magazines as I was dreaming of life as a grownup.

Norell also has a distinct spicy carnation heart. It's like a preview for Opium, early 70s-style. The richness of the vintage extrait de parfum certainly points that way, especially with the sweetness opacity in the base. But it's still as oakmossy as it comes, and the dry-down of my old bottles seems to have deepened and matured beautifully over time. They don't make them like that anymore.

Notes (via Fragrantica)are- top: lavender, mandarin orange, galbanum, hiacynth, bergamot, narcissus and lemon; middle notes are mimose, coriander, carnation, orris, gardenia, cinnamon, orchid, arum lily, jasmine, ylang-ylang, rose and cardamom; base notes are sandalwood, amber, musk, vanilla, oakmoss, vetiver, cedar and myrrh.

Norell perfume ad from vintageadbrowser.com
Norman Norell gowns from myvintagevogue.com