Being Tom Ford: Grey Vetiver

It must be hard being Tom Ford. Despite the obvious glamour and celebrity associated with being one of the world's largest contemporary style icons, I can not begin to imagine how much pressure comes with that role. I have trawled the internet looking at photos of Ford, and in every one of them he looks immaculate. Can Ford have a bad hair day? Unlikely, I'd say. So, how difficult would it be to maintain that face both publicly and privately, 24/7? In business, everything the man touches turns to gold and he is often revered as the yardstick against which other designers are measured. His refined, chic, editing eye and fastidious work ethic has seen him reach dizzying heights. People aspire to be like him, taste his fame, and dream to achieve just a fraction of the success he has enjoyed. Ford must be under enormous scrutiny, whilst competitors and adversaries wait for him to stumble. Expectations are stratospheric every time this man opens a boutique, launches a line, or bestows the world with a new perfume creation. I do not envy this man.

Perhaps I too, have unrealistic expectations of Tom Ford - after all, in my opinion, the man has never failed to amaze and inspire me - his superb tailoring, à la mode accessories and stunning private blend perfumes have me pressing my nose at boutique glass windows the world over. Therefore, when I hear of an impending Ford fragrance release, I anticipate perfection and nothing less! Am I being unrealistic in doing so? Hell no... the man has a crack-team of professionals working around the clock under the Tom Ford Beauty umbrella, and cash and resources coming out the wazoo!

Imagine my crushing disappointment then, dear reader, when I sampled the upcoming Tom Ford men's release Grey Vetiver, set to hit shelves this September. Whilst I appreciate the continuity and cohesiveness of the colour-coded Tom Ford fragrance names (Black Orchid, White Patchouli, and now Grey Vetiver), what I find I don't love is the actual scent itself. The name Tom Ford is a brand synonymous with innovation, but here all I see is simulation... reproduction, replication, emulation. As much as it hurts me to say so, I can already identify a handful of scents that Grey Vetiver is a perfumed parody of.

The opening starts out with some promise... a rush of citrus (maybe bergamot and mandarin?) and winter green, veiled by a palpable smokiness; Bvlgari Pour Homme Extrême immediately springs to mind. I think of someone throwing wet leaves onto a fire in the corner of their garden under a solemn grey sky. (Not wishing to overly romanticise the idea, I'll leave the metaphors at that... think: grubby old gardener in overalls, as opposed to a muscle-flexing pool boy). Without any perfume pyramid available for this release, there is an earthiness present that one normally associates with vetiver scents, and I am picking up what I believe may be traces of black pepper and guaiacwood at its heart.  For those familiar with Andy Tauer's Vetiver Dance, there are parallels one can draw between the two, though the Ford release is less rambunctious than Tauer's. I also recognise hues of Narciso Rodriguez for Him... the thick, damp fougere vibe is common to them both, as is a sense of austerity and coldness. Grey Vetiver I feel will appeal to a more mature set - I can't imagine many twenty-year olds reaching for this before heading out for a night on the town... it is a little more corporate in style; more reserved and unapproachable.

Several hours later, and I am left with Versace Jeans Couture Man on my skin... quite possibly one of my least favourite scents - an odour I've always associated with washing dirty cat bowls under hot running water; with something fatty and jellied at its heart. Thankfully (for those who will like this), the scent's persistence is well above average. Not so great if you feel you smell like cat's breath.

After this experience, I have come to understand that, (at least in my eyes), Ford is fallible. Grey Vetiver is the first of his scents that I cannot and will not wear. Perhaps not the outcome I might have liked, but there are always his four new White Musk Private Blends to look forward to. The Sorcery of Scent will be reviewing White Suede in the week to come.

Kenzo Jungle L'Elephant

I usually don't shy away from wearing scents marketed to women, and am pleased if I can inspire men in particular, to try something they might not have ever contemplated. Kenzo's Jungle L'Elephant is one such scent that I feel masterfully bridges the gender divide.

Years before his perfume triumphs such as  Thierry Mugler's Alien and Frederic Malle's Vetiver Extraordinaire, in 1996 French nose Dominique Ropion lent his expertise in creating this avante garde spicy floral for the house of Kenzo. The eau de parfum itself represents a striking balance between nature and man... the unrelenting natural wilderness pitted against the ever-encroaching urban environment. There is a bold contrast between the territories, which is cleverly translated into perfume. L'Elephant is rich with exotic fruits, bewitching florals and dark, familiar spices, but presented in such a way that is almost an abstract "hyper-realistic" approach, much like something you might encounter in one of Mugler's far-flung spacescapes. The advertising video spot (below) embraces this idea in a surreal dream-like fashion.

I am a big fan of L'Elephant. Much like the beast itself, this perfume is bold, robust and commanding. The opening accords I liken to those opulent notes present in Tom Ford's Black Orchid... thick, rich and imposing. A blend of mango, heliotrope and ylang-ylang I find totally enchanting here, and the spices are rich and dark; somehow cumin, cardamom and clove lend a dramatic sense of depth and scale to the mix. A lavish combination of vanilla, liquorice, patchouli and amber imbues the perfume with a delicious gourmand appeal. This intense and dramatic composition creates a perfume that can be enjoyed by many, but, this untamed animal is not one for the faint-hearted. It is extremely tenacious and has titanic sillage. 

Applied sparingly, this innovative scent is sure to turn heads.

Ebay: a word to the wise

Buying perfume on ebay can be a frustrating affair. I have personally had some excellent success stories, but have also heard of many disasters. I'm not about to recount any of them here, although I would like to offer some words to reflect upon.

Two days ago I was in two minds about bidding on a vintage bottle of Guerlain's Aprés L'ondee. I had come across the auction with only moments left in the sale... the bottle was beautiful, and much to my surprise, almost full. I was undecided only because I wasn't certain if the object of my desire (pictured) was indeed a vintage formula, or the modern reissue. I knew little of either, to tell you the truth, which is what made this auction all the more appealing. The seller had mentioned in the copy accompanying the auction, that "not much of the smell had been retained". With seven minutes and six seconds left, the highest bid was a modest 13 pounds. How could I lose? At that price (and a bit more), I would be delighted to own the bottle alone!

The hardest thing to decide (with 5 minutes and fourty-two seconds left in the auction), was what my highest bid would be. "Not much of the smell has been retained" had burned into my retinas, so much so that I could still read the words from the screen from behind my closed eyelids. I pondered a moment as I watched the seconds slip by.  At 4 minutes twenty-two, I sent a message to the seller, hoping they would be online and able to answer my query immediately.

"Does the perfume still smell at all? Can you describe it?", I typed and then hit 'send' as the countdown slipped beneath the four minute mark. I waited, all the while watching the shifting obnoxiously loud red numbers blow a wet raspberry at me.

At 1 minute sixteen, after I had completely talked myself out of a possible purchase, I received an answer: "Still smells great but too old fashioned for me", was the reply. Old fashioned?! I thought... sounds right up my alley! 

I scrambled! Fourty-four, fourty three... still no additional bids! Refresh page. Thirty six, thirty five... WHAT IS MY MAXIMUM BID!?, I panicked, twenty eight, twenty-seven...

My fingers punched in a random number 36.01... seventeen, sixteen... I hit the "confirm bid" button. Refresh page. No other bidders! My heart was hammering in my chest and I could hear the blood rushing in my ears... five, four... refresh page!...

After the auction ended I sat for a long while, waiting for my heart rate to return to normal, and for my hands to stop shaking. I felt very self-conscious all of a sudden. The alarming red numbers had been replaced by a dirty red cross. Outbid by a pound. One measley pound! 

I was left thinking about what I might have paid someone, had I come across this item at a flea market, or an antique store. Fifty pounds? Sixty? Eighty? One hundred? Vintage bottles of Aprés L'ondee have sold for up to $600 before, so why in God's name was I bidding a pitiful 36 quid (and one pence)?! WHAT WAS I THINKING?

The moral of this story is simple... when buying what may seem to be the 'deal of a lifetime on ebay', then bid big. Someone out there is having a laugh at my expense tonight as they dab on glistening spots of vintage Aprés L'ondee... one that was had for a pittance.

Life-changing milestones: Vintage Guerlain Vol de Nuit Extrait

Today's blog is not a review... it is more of a monologue about a pivotal moment in my scented journey through life - a life changing experience - so I beg that you please indulge me.

Guerlain has been one of those houses that I have grossly misunderstood. Years ago, whilst working in the industry as a fledgling sales assistant I was uninterested with their perfume portfolio; back then favouring the likes of Azzaro Chrome and D&G Homme over Mitsuoko and Shalimar. "Stuffy and uninteresting" I had proclaimed, with an smarminess that now makes me wince. In the ensuing years however, and with increased exposure to a varied array of scents, I learned to broaden my horizons and came to truly understand that hindsight is indeed, 20/20.

This being said, I have never been really enchanted by any Guerlain release. I had sampled their standard range in downtown doors, but never actively sought after the rare blends and discontinued gems that many people spoke of. Pourquoi??! I hear you ask... well, basically because nothing I tried had ever really knocked me off my feet. I figured 'Guerlain' an industry buzzword which only fuelled my desire to rebel! 

I don't know exactly at which point my perspectives shifted with regard to this perfume house. Perhaps it was a surprising encounter with someone wearing the stirring L'Heure Bleu at a dinner party... or maybe it was whilst browsing this website: a virtual museum built by a Danish man out of adoration and passion for Guerlain and their scented masterpieces. Whatever the case, it was enough to re-ignite my interest. Within a couple of weeks, I came upon a stunning 30ml sealed bottle of vintage Vol de Nuit Extrait on the web, and after much deliberation (and quite unnecessary peer-pressure!) decided it would be mine. A blind buy of epic proportions! 

 

The package arrived in the mail yesterday and I scooped it from my doorstep like Moses from the 'rushes. I literally heard angels trumpet and a choir of celestial voices. I mean, I had he-ooge expectations... it was Guerlain, it was vintage, it was extrait, and it was $225! I was going to love it, by jingoes! 

I spent a good part of the afternoon turning the wonderful 1960's zig-zag and zebra stripe packaging over in my hands, and photographing the stunning glass flacon. I tugged at the ageing thread that held the seal intact, wondering how I might succeed in opening it with a minimum of damage. I sniffed at the tight neck of the bottle and got nothing but a small dent in my nose that faded rapidly from white to pink. I looked at the receipt for my purchase with a frown... yes, I was going to love it. Wasn't I? 

Please?

I decided to sleep on it. 

I found myself staring at the bedroom ceiling at 4am whilst the crickets chirruped outside my window. 

Then the sun came up.

So today was the big day. I thought it rather peculiar that I drank my morning coffee with butterfiles in my stomach; my eyes never really losing sight of the box sitting on my desk. I felt giddy with anticipation, despite having had no sleep, and looking as though I'd been dragged 100 yards under a bus. But with trembling hands, I removed the flacon from its packaging and carefully trimmed the cord holding its stopper in place. I gave it a tug.

Stuck.

I put the bottle in the fridge and went and had a lie-down, feeling as if the world had conspired against me.

45 minutes later I was back at my desk with bottle in hand. I could feel that the stopper had shrunk slightly, so I gave it a gentle twist. The stopper lifted and the seal let out a soft hiss as the perfumed air escaped for the first time in almost 50 years.

I pressed the moist glass stopper to my wrist, waited a few moments and inhaled. I lingered for many seconds... bitter green, opulent jasmine, galbanum, dark woods: and then an unanticipated feeling of boundless beauty and of overwhelming sadness. I felt as though the Vol de Nuit was telling me a story in whispers from behind a cupped hand held over my heart. I was no longer conscious of individual perfume accords - instead I experienced something way more poetic... something monumental. It was a perfume narrative, and the experience almost bought me to tears. I recalled the otherworldly 'sigh' I had heard when opening the bottle for the first time, and felt for a moment as if I'd liberated a genie from her lantern... perhaps one that was lamenting a love lost over the ages; her passion and sorrow swelling on the air. Such love! Such beauty! And such despair!

I replaced the stopper and sat back in my chair for a while, allowing the narrative to tell me of winsomeness and woe, all in striking colour. Never before have I been moved by a perfume in the same way as I have today. As cheesy as it might sound, I feel as though I have crossed some threshold and stepped into a whole new state of consciousness, and it was this vintage Vol de Nuit extrait that held the door open.

I don't know if I just got lucky, or indeed if many of Jacques Guerlain's creations are as absorbing as this one. What I do know, however, is that I will never look at this house, or at perfumery in general in the same way again. 

Hermés: Eau de Gentiane Blanche - a guest review by Mike Perez

Sorcery of Scent welcomes State-sider and guest reviewer Mike Perez as he reviews the second of three Hermés Eau de Colognes.



When I stumbled upon pepper prominent fragrances early into my exploration of perfumery, I joyously sampled many sneeze-inducing stunning recreations of fresh ground pepper: From the discontinued Polo Extreme Sport (black pepper in all of its exactitude overlaid onto a mismatched aquatic/sport dry down) to the high-end luxury Hermessence Poivre Samarcande by Hermes (one of the sheerest and luxurious pepper scents I own). Black, white, pink peppercorn accords seem to give a burnished pungency to fragrances – adding a bit of a disturbance to smooth and refined florals (Rose Poivree by The Different Company) or aromatic herbs and grasses (Piper Nigrum by Lorenzo Villoresi).

It was with surprise, then, that I discovered another world of pepper in fragrances: bell peppers.

Not anything like peppercorns (the spices, which is actually a dried fruit from a vine) bell peppers are bell shaped vegetables from the Capsicum annuum plant. Ranging in color from green to red, yellow, orange… and can taste sweet or slightly bitter with a distinct, crisp vegetal taste – like watermelon rind. Weirdly bell peppers have no smell – well…until you eat them. That unique, slightly salty, sweet pea effect is what Hermes has captured in the second newest Hermes eaux cologne: Eau de Gentiane Blanche.

The uplifting top notes start with an olfactory impression of coldness – something woody and wet (bamboo? Papyrus?) and that cold snap of vegetal molecules. An incredibly innovative top note for an eaux cologne. The delicate gentiana floral note (totally unrelated to the bitter gentian root flavored aperitifs [Gentiane and Moxie brand soda]) lasts only for a couple of seconds and is blurry, indistinct and flat underneath the enormous weight of the bell pepper accord. Only after EDGB had warmed up on my skin and started to disappear did I start to detect a faint, powdery orris-like sensation to my skin. My favorite part. It only lasted for minutes.

The official notes are: gentian, white musk, iris and incense. It seems as if Hermés is marketing this as a fresh white musk cologne – the website tagline is ‘A new freshness characterized by the clarity of white musk’. I find this odd since I thought Jean Claude Ellena hated white musk and complained about their presence in clothing detergents and cleansers? Oddly, to my nose, I smell no musk or incense in the dry down - so perhaps I cannot smell the musk (anosmia?). The bell pepper accord, however, lasts over 12 hours. Amazing!

My inner colognoissuer nerd loved the idea of EdGB: a bell pepper and iris/floral cologne – brilliant! In fact, EdGB is lots of fun to smell on a tester strip. The scent would make a fantastic smelling candle. But as a splash on cologne it’s difficult to wear.

Olivier Durbano: Turquoise

Few fragrances seem to excite me more than Olivier Durbano's Parfum de Pierres Poèmes. As reported earlier, the French jeweller/perfumer has just launched Turquoise - his fifth in a series of seven perfumes inspired by semi-precious gems. Touted to be an "ozonic" style fragrance, I can admit to having had some initial reservations. Ozonic scents à la Comptoir Sud Pacifique's Aqua Motu and Kenzo Pour Homme have not done much for me. Certainly a dull synthesis of ozonic molecules will sell hand over fist on the mainstream market, but these releases are simply not my bag. The ability to find an ozonic scent with true substance had eluded me for years - until today.

Any ideas you might have about oceanic cologne clichés  - you can throw them out the window... and don't be fooled into thinking that Turquoise is the olfactory equivalent of a recreational trip to the oxygen bar. Durbano has masterfully translated a vast spiritual history of the stone into perfume... acknowledging the ancients who revered this gem as "fossilised water" or "fragments of the sky". Turquoise is very much grounded; natural; elemental.
Durbano's perfume creations are referred to as "stone poems", after all.

Turquoise opens with a lustrous accord of elemi which is both lemony and pine-like... it is fleeting, though the resinous quality of this component lingers over green coriander and a very fragrant juniper. Already one's mind begins to conjure images of sprawling forests of fragrant conifers... a vista in the wilds of North America, perhaps.

As the scent evolves, one can begin to determine a faint penetrating sharpness that lends a mineral-like quality - one that I would associate with the intriguing 'turpentine' accord listed in the topnotes. Also much to my delight, I recognise the signature Durbano frankincense note; one common to 4 of the 5 pierre de poèmes. This Somalian oliban is husky and almost orange-like - suggestive of weathered stone and earth. 

The heart of the perfume is focused on lotus flower and fucus seaweed... each of these bring an dewy, wet characteristic to the scent. The allusions to water are in striking contrast to the earthy, resinous topnotes, and I find myself thinking of shorelines where sun-heated stones meet cold snaking rivers; the clean mountain air damp with evaporation. It is this clever contrast between the two elements that makes Turquoise such an accomplished and inspired creation.

Myrrh and ambergris provide the foundation for the perfume and again, represent a curious marriage between earthy and marine accords. The innovative balance that has been achieved throughout is where Turquoise's success lies... it represents the stone in its raw form, just as it has been struck from the earth: bottomless oceans of blue juxtaposed against raw and jagged stone.

Turquoise is a genderless eau de parfum, and has above-average persistence. It can be ordered direct from Olivier Durbano's studio in Paris, and will also be rolling out to his regular retail stockists soon.

Summer Glam: Bronze Goddess

In May last year I bought a bottle of Estée Lauder's Bronze Goddess having been completely won over by its summery opulence and smouldering appeal. Despite the name, this is one skinscent that deserves to be enjoyed by women and men alike. Much like the swanky advertising graphic suggests, Lauder succeeded in capturing incandescent warmth and solar radience in this bottle... it is the epitome of summer glam, to me. 

Originally released as a summer limited edition as the followup to Tom Ford's collaborative effort with Lauder on their Azzure Oil in 2006 and Azzure Soleil fragrance in 2007; Bronze Goddess now appears to be a mainstay in the Lauder lineup. This finite release saw stocks all but gone by the end of summer '08, but today major retailers appear fully stocked again for summer 2009. And I can certainly understand the reason for resurrecting this amazing eau fraîche skinscent for a second year running. 

Bronze Goddess is shimmering with sun-kissed mandarin and bergamot, and brimming with exotic jasmine, magnolia and orange flower... notes typical of summer in the tropics. But there is a wonderful honeyed, "chewy" gourmand quality to the scent too... its opening burst reminding me of Ford's triumphant Black Orchid. There is a delicious toasted coconut accord and lactic milk vibe that renders this perfume absolutely addictive. One might easily visualise tanned bodies smattered with fragrant oils reaching for chilled pina coladas or jewel-encrusted cellphones offered to them by cabana boys on silver trays. Bronze Goddess is about pool-side glamour and summer evenings of decadence and excess on the French Riviera.

Unfortunately for me, whilst I don my swimming trunks and bare my white flesh to the skies for the first time this season (watching neighbours recoil in horror from their windows like hissing vampires burned by the sun), I am reminded again that I am a million miles away from the Côte d'Azur. The silver lining is that with a spritz of Goddess, I can close my eyes and feel -  at least for a time - like a Hollywood "A"-lister.

Vintage: Deceased Estates and Tear-Water Tea

A while ago I came upon this photo of an art installation titled Deceased Estate 2004 - a collaborative exhibit by Sydney artists Sean Cordeiro and Claire Healy. It got me thinking about precisely how many "things" an individual can manage to accumulate over an entire lifetime. Between amassing items of absolute necessity and those collected purely for their aesthetic or sentimental value, the numbers must be staggering. But Cordeiro and Healy's work here has allowed us to take a step back for a moment, and see the fuller picture... all those treasured objects and favourite items that each of us covet, are really just mundane articles that perhaps may not be looked upon by the next person with the same adoring eye. And then what of it all when we are dead and gone? I imagine unless specific measures are taken, much of it will be picked over by relatives, and the rest sold off in estate sales.

Ive always felt sad when thinking of personal possessions lost to the corridoors of time. As a young boy I often felt the sting of tears behind my eyes when reading Arnold Lobel's book Owl at Home - in particular, a tale where Owl wanted to make "tear-water tea" by crying into a kettle. He thought of all the things that bought sadness to his heart - like pencils sharpened too short to ever be used again, or lost spoons that have fallen behind the stove and are never seen again. He soon manages to fill the kettle with tears and makes tea that is "a little bit salty", but "always very good". 
It is still with this wistful sense of melancholy that I look upon personal treasures that are sold off after a death. It is all so finite. How easily ownership is transferred with the swipe of a card or the clatter of coins.

Just this past weekend I found myself faced with such a situation. After trawling the wonderful fleamarkets of Copenhagen, I chanced upon a delightful vintage store hidden away in a charming side-street. Inside, it was fully stocked with anything and everything one might imagine - clothes, hats, shoes and luggage from the 19th century to the present day... costume jewellery, ornamental objects, vanity items and vintage perfumes. All of it endearing, all of it authentic, and all of it acquired through deceased estates. I sifted through hat-boxes stuffed with antique milliner's ribbon, rummaged in drawers brimming with monogrammed linens and peered through glass cabinets holding flacons of perfume both exotic and rare.

My heart raced a little - after all I do enjoy my vintage perfume finds - but I thought for a moment about the individuals that might have once possessed the vintage Robert Piguet, or still-sealed bottle of Guerlain's Nahema. I thought about these scents sitting on mahogany dressers or in paper-lined cupboards, and wondered if they were received as gifts from an adoring suitor, or purchased, after many months of saving, as a decadent personal treat. I felt almost guilty unscrewing bakelite perfume lids and sniffing at dusty talcum-powders - as though I were somehow intruding on someone's personal ritual. It was difficult to imagine that the person whose body had been generously anointed with such perfume was now, well... in actual fact, dead. In a way, it was almost enough to have me reaching for my own tin tea-pot and turn on the waterworks, just as Owl had done in his book.

An hour or so later, I walked from the store with several perfumes nonetheless. I thought about what would be sadder: to take ownership of articles pre-loved and appreciated by some dearly departed; or to leave the fragrance to 'turn' in the shop window, and their boxes to fox and fade. 
Just like their anonymous original owners, I felt it better they be remembered and appreciated, rather than forgotten.

Hermés: Eau de Pamplemousse Rose - a guest review by Mike Perez

This is the first of a number of guest reviews that will be published on Sorcery of Scent that have been penned by friends and fellow aficionado's whose opinions I respect and admire.

Mike Perez lives in Florida in the USA and is a highly-regarded member of the international online perfume community.


Eating a fresh pink grapefruit is something I have been doing all of my life – here in Miami the abundance of fresh citrus fruit all year round allows me to indulge myself whenever I please. Unlike lemons and limes, which I only eat the juice of, I eat the grapefruit fruit itself (pink ones are naturally sweet in taste) and the taste is tart, slightly sweet with a strange sulfurous acidity that hits the back of your tongue.

The flavor/scent of pink grapefruit is becoming very popular in discount bath & body products (I remember smelling a hand soap that was a wonderful, but highly synthetic recreation of the fruit) so when I tested the 1999 Aqua Allegoria Pamplelune by Guerlain I was delighted at the extremely natural and realistic white grapefruit accord (how did Mathilde Laurent do that?) but then quickly scared by the dried cat urine base notes. Blech!

No worries though…Hermes has just released Eau de Pamplemousse Rose and it is beautiful!

Eau de Pamplemousse Rose, one of two new colognes from Hermes (added to the existing colognes Eau d’ Orange Verte and Concentree d’ Orange Verte) features notes of grapefruit, orange, rhubofix and vetiver. The grapefruit is sweetened with the tiniest rose accord; wet and juicy, very bright and lip puckering. The rose note is quickly buried on skin and in the air and simultaneously highlights the wonderful, flavorful combination of the two…and introduces a wonderful citrus/rose component similar to the brand new Perrier Pink Grapefruit mineral water, but sweeter. A fresh cut grapefruit drizzled with edible rose petal water would smell like this, for a second, right before you swallow it. But then, after you chewed it you’d experience the lingering and delicious presence of both.

The sheer and very light dry down has a radiant and subtle earthy feeling to it (my guess is the vetiver) - as if the citrus has been carried in from a neighboring grapefruit grove and the crates are full of mud or dirt. Yet the overall feeling is light and sunlit, with a rich coolness that must be the rhubofix (aka rhubarb oxirane, a Firmenich molecule described by Hermes as ‘fresh, woody, spicy, floral rhubarb’).

To be enjoyed at its fullest Eau de Pamplemousse Rose must be over applied – just like Eau de Orange Verte. When it is, the juice holds onto skin slightly longer. I think a shower gel of this scent would smell fantastic (Hermes has an ancillary line in the works)!

The grapefruit notes are tarter than those in Terre de Hermes (and sweeter than the white grapefruit in Un Jardin sur le Nil). The rose is considerably more restrained than in Kelly Caleche and/or Hermessence Rose Ikebana. Yes, you’ve smelled Jean Claude Ellena blend these notes before. But Eau de Pamplemousse Rose smells totally unique and engaging for men and women. It is the best grapefruit scent I’ve ever worn. 

The high price tag ($125 for a 3.3 oz / $165 for a 6.5 oz) is all that is keeping me, for now, from buying a bottle.

Eau de Sisley: 3

As far as perfume is concerned, the d'Ornano family at the helm of the Sisley brand, have always managed to command the senses with their scented creations. Last year I blogged about the very dynamic Eau de Campagne - a shared scent created in 1974 that is still very relevant and much-loved today. Their subsequent offerings for women aptly named Eau de Soir and Soir de Lune have also been revered by their own adoring audiences. Sisley has gone on to become a name synonymous with grace, sophistication and beauty. This month, the French aromatics and phytocosmetology giants launch their new trio of fragrances under the Eau de Sisley umbrella... a launch that I have been in keen anticipation of.

These new scents, conveniently named 1, 2 and 3, are designed to reflect "three sisters or three different faces of the same woman". To my rational sensibilities, this might be a bit of a reach, but the trio are very likeable regardless of the caffeine-fuelled creative minds responsible for their marketing. No 1 is a soft, joyous floral scent - conspicuously feminine in nature - that combines sun-kissed citruses with jasmine, green tea and a spritz of bitter juniper over a pale musk base. No 2 is reminiscent of Thierry Mugler's Angel Innocent - a scent with an effervescent sparkle and light gourmand quality. The overall feeling is, however, very Sisley in style... restrained, stylish, and edited. The third, No 3, is the eaux that succeeded the most in seizing my attention.

A number of years ago whilst attending a fragrance training workshop with Beauté Prestige International, I was handed a canvas, a paintbrush and a palette of watercolours and told to "paint what I smell". The instructor spritzed a number of blotters with a fragrance dispensed from a blue glass flacon that she managed to keep concealed. She handed one of the paper strips to me, looked me in the eye, and said "go".

I held the paper strip beneath my nose and my mind instantly blazed with images of Mediterranean garrigue, deep green cyprus pines, whitewashed Greek churches on rocky outcrops, and my hand began to record it all carefully on canvas. Unbeknownst to me at the time, the scent that had served as my inspiration was L'eau Bleue d'Issey. When the exercise was concluded and we were asked to reveal our paintings to the group, I was astonished to see many interpretations of the same theme... bushels of herbs, rugged cliffs overlooking sea vistas, and scrubland dotted with resinous trees - there were even a few more churches! It was an effective exercise in opening ones "inner eye", and transferring that vision to paper. Why the lengthy discourse? I hear you grumble... well, in the moments I sprayed eau de Sisley 3, I had a very similar experience. I was immediately flung into a Mediterranean landscape where clumps of fat, heavy, aromatic citrus fruits hung from bushels of waxy dark green leaves. There was a definite sense of harsh sunlight bearing down from overhead, and the smell of sweet floral nectar floating on the air. So vivid was this mental picture, I couldn't help but fall somewhat for No. 3... a scent based around stimulating citrus, Chinese osmanthus and tangy ginger.

What I perhaps I find most interesting about this scent, is that there does exist a harkening back to Issey Miyake's L'eau Bleue d'Issey here... the ginger note at the heart of this scent sits over an aromatic base of patchouli, vetiver and pale musks. This combination renders 3 a possible favourite with men, as much as I imagine it will appeal to the women. I think perhaps here, I see a common "red thread" linking back to Sisley's Eau de Campagne. Where the Campagne is verdant, sharp and vivifying - something to be worn at a lavish retreat or country club spa - eau de Sisley 3 maintains a sense of nobility but in a more relaxed manner. One could appreciate this eaux reading a literary classic whilst lazing in a hammock overlooking the Aegean, or strolling the chic streets of Cannes in the summertime whilst the paparazzi swell in numbers around you. 

I am certain many will find a new favourite for 2009 amongst these three fine fragrances. Their appeal will match people both young and mature, and irrespective of gender. The eau de Sisley trinity are currently being sold in 100ml sizes for approximately $160 USD - something of a small investment - but one that is on par with many other refined, sophisticated releases on the market. 

Une Rose Chyprée winners

Congratulations to Robbie and Starscent, our two randomly-selected winners of a carded sample of Tauer's Une Rose Chyprée. You will be contacted today with further details.

To all the other readers that left your comments and expressed your interest in Une Rose Chyprée, a big thank you for your ongoing support. I encourage each of you to try Andy's new creation when the opportunity arises. Andy's blog is also a fine place to visit to see what is new in the world of Tauer Perfumes.

Have a safe and happy week everyone!
Dimitri.

Labdanum: an enchanting history

Labdanum used to be one of those notes used in perfumes that I was completely unfamiliar with. Whilst I was aware that it lends a rich, resinous quality to perfume, (and is favoured for use in chypres in particular), I hadn't any olfactory acquaintance with the scent in its purest form. It remained a bit of an enigma until just recently when I did a little reading on the subject, and managed to source some raw labdanum from a passionate European supplier.

Labdanum is produced across parts of the Mediterranean (mainly Spain and Greece) as a by-product from shrubs of the Cistus variety - (more commonly known as rock rose). For centuries, the plant has thrived and grown abundantly in rocky outcrops near coastal areas, and is known to secrete a thick, sticky sap when the sun is high overhead and summer temperatures are at their fiercest. In ancient times, local goat herders whose animals had been grazing around the cistus trees, found that the animal's fur gradually became matted and soaked with a thick tar-like substance. The fur was profoundly aromatic; imbued with the resins and oils from the shrubs, and their pelts became widely sought after. The beards of the animals were clipped regularly and sold, traded and bartered across the Mediterranean. In Egypt, pharaohs and royals attached plaited strands of labdanum-rich goats hair onto their chins as a perfumed symbol of leadership. This appendage is clearly visible in ancient Egyptian art and iconography.

Now, many thousands of years later, labdanum is still revered as a desirable component in perfumery, and perhaps more astonishingly, is still being harvested in a traditional fashion by a very dedicated family living in Sises on the Greek island of Crete. 

The Niktaris family are one of only a tiny handful that still use traditional non-destructive tools and methods to preserve this millennia-old tradition. Armed with little more than a protective hat to ward off the blazing sun, and a ladanestirio (a primitive tool made from a wooden frame and leather straps which has changed very little over the ages), the family set out to collect the resinous liquid by thoroughly raking the dewy Cistus creticus shrubs. The fluid sticks to the long cords of the ladanestirio, which is then left in the sun for several days for the secretion to congeal.

Once dried, the straps are then scraped clean one by one with a small metal instrument. The labdanum forms a semi-solid bead with an overwhelming fragrance that is both earthy and balsamic, but also hints at soft rose and green leaves.

Pieces of this dark, tacky resin can then be broken off and burned over charcoal discs to fill a room or outdoor space with wonderful tendrils of perfume, or tinctured for use in perfumery.

I feel richer for having understood more about this precious commodity and moreso for having sampled the fruits of this Cretian family's labour. I have the greatest respect for the Nektaris family, for their impassioned efforts to conserve sustainable plantations and pass on the tradition from one generation to the next.

Much more information, and an opportunity to purchase raw labdanum can be found on Dimitris Nektaris' website: http://www.labdanum-creta.blogspot.com/

Many thanks also to Dimitris for video and photos.

Olivier Durbano to launch 'Turquoise'

Archaeological and literary references mention Turquoise used in the jewellery worn by Queen Zar, second ruler of Egypt's First Dynasty almost 7500 years ago. It is thus no wonder it has captured the imagination of French master-jeweller and perfumer Olivier Durbano and is set to serve as the inspiration behind his fifth in a series of seven "Stone Poems".

A semi-precious jewel, turquoise has been revered in history by diverse cultures for its value both aesthetic and arcane. The Apache Indians believed this stone combines the spirits of both the sea and the sky, and the Navajo Indians regarded turquoise as a piece of the sky that has fallen to earth. Durbano's Turquoise thus fittingly resides in the ozonic family of fragrances.

I am both excited and fascinated to try this eau de parfum... turquoise has always been considered a stone full of good fortune; possessing the ability to heal, and one to wear on your body to force away evil spirits. I find Olivier Durbano's perfume talismans skilfully transmit a sense of their stone's esoteric value, just as masterfully as they echo their physical qualities.

Head notes: Turpentine, Rose Berry, Elemi, Somalian Oliban Incense, Coriander, Juniper

Heart notes: Fragrant Reed, Lotus, Fucus seaweed, Lily

Base notes: Everlasting Flower, Honey, Myrrh wood, Ambergris

Sorcery of Scent will follow up with a review of Turquoise upon its release.

Nomination thanks

I would like to take this opportunity to thank readers for nominating Sorcery of Scent in the 9th Annual Basenotes Fragrance Awards in the Best Blog category. I feel honoured and humbled for being nominated amongst greats such as Perfumeshrine, Now Smell This, 1000 Fragrances and Bois de Jasmin. Your ongoing support and readership are what keeps me going.

Warmest regards and thanks,

Dimitri.

Win! Une Rose Chyprée - Andy Tauer

In recent weeks, my journey into vintage perfumes has ignited much interest in chypres. 

Francois Coty's influential perfume Chypre de Coty of 1917 was the first to coin the name and, in fact, define the entire olfactory family. The classification encompasses scents that traditionally consisted of a number of base accords - chiefly oakmoss and ambergris; along with other notes such as civet, patchouli, labdanum, and rose. The resulting blends are often described as dark, full-bodied and aromatic... liquid shadows, perhaps. In the 21st century they are immediately recognisable when opening heavy vintage art-deco flacons tied with gold thread... ones that are uncovered in dark bathroom cupboards, or in dusty dresser drawers lined with faded paper. Often, any antique perfume sampled that is characterised as "old-fashioned" or "heavy" is likely to be a chypre, as the 1920's and beyond saw many new chypres enter the market. As a result, chypres fell from favour a little during the 90's when stark androgyny and 'shared scents' were the norm as far as perfumery was concerned.

Fortunately though, new sensibilities particularly in the niche perfume market, have resulted in a resurrection of chypre-style scents in the 00's. Only yesterday I was sent one such fragrance by Swiss perfumer extraordinaire Andy Tauer named Une Rose Chyprée - the first of a series of  Tauer Perfumes Mémorables that he intends to release.

Une Rose Chyprée opens with sparkling mandarin that prickles one's saliva glands, mixed masterfully with a bright, enduring floral note of clementine. It is a radiant opening that triggers the senses with energising lemon and bergamot, and minty, citrusy bourbon geranium. This sprightly, invigorating top soon reveals a wonderful depth and resinous darkness beneath. 10 - 15 minutes after application the resplendent headnotes give way to a transient dusky, ambery powderyness that one instantly associates with traditional perfumes from bygone eras. A vermillion-coloured thread of rosa damascena emerges, and I am suddenly cast back to the 1920's, to an age where women wore furs, felt hats and powdered faces. This is a scent Louise Brooks might have worn in one of her many silent films as the quintessential flapper. It is brimming with a ritzy, lavish sense of youth and beauty, but also a melancholic feeling of being sadly lost to time. 

As Une Rose Chyprée evolves on the skin, warm earthy hues shift forward and provide the classic chypre foundation of the perfume. Labdanum lends a balsamic floral prettiness to a rich patchouli and aromatic oakmoss base. A measured swathe of vanilla furnishes a semi-transparent sweetness that plays against a hot cinnamon and spicy Bay accord at the heart. So sincere is the perfume's inherent sense of 'yesteryear', one might easily be fooled into thinking they are indeed wearing an opulent elixir fashioned at the beginning of the last century. The beauty however, lies in the very fact this an eau de parfum is very wearable today.

Tauer has done an extraordinary job here capturing a whimsical moment lost to the ages. He has breathed new life into the chypre family by re-interpreting the classics and by using contemporary methods to do so. Une Rose Chyprée is a master stroke accomplishment, and quite possibly represents some of his best work yet.

Une Rose Chyprée is offered in hand bottled and hand packaged 15ml flacons and will be launched internationally on July 1st, 2009. For two lucky readers however, Sorcery of Scent is giving away two carded samples of this perfume prior to its release. Simply leave a comment after this post, and ensure you include a contact email address. Two winners will be picked at random, and notified on Monday May 18th.

Scent profile of a Mother

In nature, animals and their young come to recognise one another using their acute sense of smell... a biological trait that has evolved over the millennia. The same can be said for humans: long before the introduction of deodorants, fabric softeners, soaps and colognes managed to diminished our basic capacity.

This being said, I have come to think of the scent associations I assign to my own mum as this Mother's day draws near. This year, we will be celebrating in different hemispheres and on opposite sides of the earth... "together apart", we like to say, as if that rationale somehow lessens our genuine desire to spend the day together.
So, soon the day will have come and gone and I will have thought of her, called her on skype, and felt my heart sink when I see how her hair has greyed and lines grown deeper, after another year living abroad. But there will be one 'constant' that I know she will have indulged in... and that is wearing her signature perfume: Estée Lauder's Youth Dew - from a bottle my wife and I sent her after we moved overseas.

As a 5 or 6 year old, I recall sitting on the edge of the bath as mum put on her makeup in the bathroom mirror. I would chat excitedly about something that happened at school, or something I had seen on television; whilst she would stretch her mouth into an unusual-shaped 'O' when applying her mascara. At the end of the ritual, she would spritz her decolletage with Youth Dew and I would watch the thin film of perfumed particles over-shoot her shoulder and drift to the floor. If any scented molecules shifted near me on the air, I would recoil in horror for fear of being perfumed with the scent of a girl. I would then follow her from the bathroom to the bedroom, (cloaked in her sillage), where she would clip on her earrings and decorate her neck with stones, all the while recounting tales from my day. She would listen patiently and respond with an encouraging "mm-hmmm" when needed, as she prepared to go out.

Occasionally, before leaving, mother would ask me to look through her handbag - to pass her a watch or a pen, and I would enjoy digging down deep and rummaging through her fragrant leather satchel. The hide smelled raw and sharp, and the brass button closures ore-like and cold. When diving to retrieve the object in question, my palms would often re-emerge also with a peppermint or a broken cigarette accidentally pinched between my 3rd and 4th fingers. Normally I'd drop the menthol cigarettes in disgust and attempt to wipe the smell off on my t-shirt, or, swoop upon the mint and smell its powdery-white shell, before dissolving it between my tongue and the roof of my mouth. The room was a twirling symphony of scents, and my mother was the conductor.

Finally she would lean down and kiss me between my cheek and my ear, and I would run to the bedroom dresser and wipe away the lipstick smudge left there with my shirt sleeve. I would follow her to the door and wave as she entered the car and she would wave back enthusiastically.
Long after she was gone, with the fading taste of mint dwindling on my tongue, I would be left in the house with a fog of Youth Dew imbuing the air around me, and the scent of tobacco and leather on my hands.
And I thought it was magic.

Happy Mother's Day, mum.

Penhaligon's: Lp No:9 for Ladies

Anyone who knows me in person, or is connected to me via Basenotes, will attest to my love of the men's Penhaligon's release: Lp No:9. I make no bones about my adoration of this scent, and the happy associations I enjoy when wearing it. It was created as a Valentines Day exclusive by the British company, along with its female counterpart in the late 90's, but suffered a short lifespan when the pair were removed from the market in 2006. I was gutted! 

In late 2008 however, the pair enjoyed a welcome resurrection after Penhaligon's understood they had shamelessly deprived Lp fanatics (such as myself) of their fine fragrance holy grails.

Much of my focus up until today has been around the men's release, but since receiving a generous sample from the company in response to a letter of thanks for its reinstatement, I have recently become rather taken with the women's version too.

Not easily put off by its vivid hot-pink juice, I applied Lp No:9 for Ladies and fast learned why this scent is cherished by women with equal enthusiasm as the men with our own. The truth is, that whilst being somewhat acerbic and overtly floral when first applied, Lp For Ladies settles into something quite agreeable on a man's skin. The opening spritz is brimming with sharp citruses and sappy cypress, but a very rich floral heart becomes almost instantly evident when heady jasmine, rose and lily of the valley emerge with alarming intensity. It is here that one's brow might furrow, and a man's resolve may be tested because Lp No:9 for Ladies is no shrinking violet! As this blossoming corsage seems to swell with floral ferocity, one can begin to distinguish shimmering green accords and prickly spices at its heart.

After some time, the florals take a fluttering turn towards the rubber-like accords found in Frederic Malle's En Passant: a tribute to aromatic white lilacs. As the somewhat venomous, narcotising florals begin to recede, peppery carnation and aromatic clove bud shuffle forward. It seems that the entire perfume takes a 90 degree turn and tiny florets of sandalwood, patchouli and oakmoss bloom; bringing with it somewhat more of a sense of masculine earthiness. Here also, one senses vanilla, amber and tonka imbuing the composition with a buttery warmth from beneath... it is highly addictive!

Whilst a razor-edged floral accord that fills the back of the nose is a constant, LP No:9 for Ladies transitions into something warm and sensuous... the kind of odour one might like to share between two bodies, passionately pressed together.

Any chap with a daring nature and whose gender sensitivities transcend the 'norm' will highly appreciate this, though, will also most likely hide the powder-pink box in his dresser drawer.

One to be shared.

Now the song and the lyrics that inspired the scent...

I took my troubles down to Madame Rue.
You know that gypsy with the gold capped tooth
She's got a pad down on 34th and Vine,
Selling little bottles of Love Potion #9.

I told her that I was a flop with chicks.
I've been disgraced since 1956.
She looked at my palm and she made a magic sign.
She said what you need is Love Potion number 9.

She bent down and turned around and gave me a wink.
She said I'm gonna make it up right here in the sink.
It smelled like turpentine, and looked like Indian ink.
I held my nose, I closed my eyes, I took a drink!

I didn't know if it was day or night.
I started kissing everything in sight.
But when I kissed a cop down on 34th and Vine.
He broke my little bottle of Love Potion number 9.

I held my nose, I closed my eyes, I took a drink!

I didn't know if it was day or night.
I started kissing everything in sight.
But when I kissed a cop down on 34th and Vine.
He broke my little bottle of Love Potion number 9.

Love Potion #9 ...
Love Potion #9 ...
Love Potion #9 ...

Mystery bottle: Lilas de France Parfum

Click on the image to enlarge

How well do you know your antique bottles?

In recent weeks, I've spent hours trawling the internet admiring vintage perfume bottles. In that time, literally thousands of antique flacons must have passed before my eyes.

Last week, however, my wife came upon this charming hand blown glass bottle at a fleamarket here in Denmark... she snapped it up for a very reasonable 20 cents! We both like it for its old-world Art Nouveau aesthetic, but hope to get a fuller picture of the bottle's history.

Perhaps you have seen it before? There are no markings, stamps or labels other than those shown here. The label around the neck reads "Lilas de France", and the larger sticker depicts a woman in profile, against a five-petalled flower motif, and bears the word "Parfum".

I am almost certain that I have seen this very same arts and crafts-style label somewhere on the net, but due to the sheer number of sites I've visited, cannot even begin to think exactly where I might have seen it.

A quick google search suggests 6 scents baring the same name:

Lilas de France - The Aubry Sisters 1920 
Lilas de France - Crescent Perfumes 1910 
Lilas de France - James S Kirk & Co 1925 
Lilas de France - Wil-Low of Boston 1925 
Lilas de France - Edouard Pinaud 1848

Lilas de France - Seely's Perfumes

Unfortunately, very few photos of these bottles exist, and those that are pictured do not really resemble the one above.

So, its over to you, kind reader... perhaps you have some information that will point me in the right direction? Any help you may be able to offer would be enormously appreciated.

Mothers Day Swarovski Stars

If mum deserves to be spoiled this May, Bond No.9 have launched a trio of ultra-glam luxury Swarovski presentations of their three fragrance favourites Chelsea Flowers, Nuits de Noho and The Scent of Peace. Available in 50ml sizes and wrapped in a second skin of amethyst, topaz or sapphire stones, this limited edition is sure to dazzle mum. 

At $550 for 50ml, the Swarovski Stars collection can be found at Bond No.9 boutiques, and is guaranteed to bring some 'bling' to her special Day.

XerJoff XJ 17/17 Homme - A Debonair Leather

I haven't had much success wearing leathers as far as perfume is concerned. Which is a shame really because, well, I'm a bit of a rocker at heart. My 'inner' Tommy Lee sports lewd tattoos and lace-up leather trousers and sneers and picks his nose a lot, but unfortunately (or rather, fortunately) in my everyday outward appearance, I am quite possibly the polar opposite. I'm well-groomed, well-mannered, well-dressed (most of the time) and, well, have been in search of a sexy raw leather scent to pick at the stitches and fray the edges up a bit. In my hunt, I've run the gamut of leather scents, trying each of them on for size - from the napped suede of Richard James' Saville Row to the crude, unrelenting tannery fetor found in Knize Ten. But just as the moody Tommy was set to turf the TV through our lounge plate-glass window in despair, I chanced upon the very remarkable XerJoff Homme. (And not a moment too soon, because, well lets face it, televisions can be outrageously expensive these days).

XerJoff is a high-end Italian perfume manufacturer whose current markets include exclusive doors in Italy, Russia, France and the UK. XerJoff represents the most precious realm in the world of luxury perfumes to date, where the most accomplished blending of handpicked essences meets with impeccable Italian craftsmanship. XerJoff Homme is just one scent from their XJ 17/17 Collection - a line that epitomises excess and maximalism at its best.  Here, each flacon has either been meticulously crafted by hand from a single block of quartz; or has had master Murano glassmakers breathe life into them, straight from the raging kiln. Each hand-numbered edition is presented on a hand-carved ebony base and is embossed with 18kt gold and decorated with rubies.  I wasn't joking about excess, now was I?

My inner Tommy is unimpressed with such frivolousness, however the shopping-bitch and admirer of immaculate design in me is. In all seriousness though, besides the exemplary bottles, I am very taken by the scent. XerJoff Homme is a debonair leather: one that is raw and resilient like a 1940's bomber jacket, but one that is also unexpectedly tender. Faint tendrils of gently permeating rose and dusty iris not only diminish the bitterness of the leather, but impregnate it with a sense of dignified sophistication. The first hour or two focuses on this persistent leather - dark, heavy (like I like my metal), and commanding. Several hours after application, I find myself cloaked in molecules that allude to a more dashing, genteel individual. An interesting paradox, actually, and one that perhaps echoes the contrast between my polished public face, and my unruly inner one. This contrast is striking and something I emphatically take pleasure in.  

One thing is perfectly clear here - and that is that this fragrance profits from the use of materials that are of exceptional quality and character. By no means a straight-forward leather, here there exists echoes of whimsy and gentleman's colognes from yesteryear, whilst at the same time, it is curiously, very much in the here-and-now.

XerJoff have three current Collections: XJ 17/17, XJ Shooting Stars, and XJ Casamorati 1888. I am very much an admirer of scents from all these lines. But that is a blog for another day.

For more information, visit: www.xerjoff.com.