Euterpe by Herr von Eden : Perfume Review & Sample Draw

I promised you something special for today and I just know you will be as enthusiastic about this amazing perfume as I have been to discover it! Essenza Nobile surprises me with three different samples each month. If I like any of them, I review them, if I don't, I simply don't write about them. So far, since this relationship started, there've been some months when I haven't had anything to write about, once or twice when two of the perfumes grabbed my attention and some months when one of the three was the winner. Never so far however have I been so impressed with all three perfumes. While I hope to find the time to review all three of this month's perfumes soon, I am starting with my absolute favorite of the three, Euterpe by Herr von Eden.

It is easy to get disillusioned as a perfume reviewer: trying to keep up with the countless perfumes out there as well as the legions of new releases each year means that for every rose you dip your nose in, four dozen piles of trash make their way to the same olfactory receptors to get your spirits down. After a while you end up having to think twice even for perfumes that are actually worth something. Every once in a while however something comes your way that is so amazingly good that it makes the hairs on the back of your neck stand on end. Something that electrifies you, something that makes you think "Yes, this is what perfume is all about, God yes, this is why I love smelling perfumes so much, this is why I chase after that high everywhere I go, every chance I get!". Sound familiar? These are the gems, and let's admit it while we're at it, these are the shining slivers of beauty that drive our addiction. Euterpe is one such beacon of beauty and hope for me.

I'd never heard of Herr von Eden, but a little search revealed that it is the brand of Hamburg-based Bent Angelo Jenson, a German who started his business not with perfume, but with clothes - suits in particular. Originally catering to men, his company has now extended to female clientele with modern women's collections, edgy eyewear and jewelry. The brand now includes three different perfumes in simple, chunky, masculine, slate-grey flacons bearing elegant Greek names: Euterpe, the muse of lyrical poetry, literally meaning "the pleasure giver", Eros, the son of Aphrodite and god of sexual love and beauty, and Eclipse, which aside from the obvious astronomical event it refers to, literally means "absence", a ceasing to exist.

Now, will you also, like me, find it thrilling if I tell you that Euterpe, with the delightfully feminine name smells like an archetypical masculine perfume? Yes, on the Essenza Nobile website it is listed as a unisex fragrance, while the Herr von Eden website itself assumes a Sphinx-like silence and refuses to comment on either a gender or scent description of the perfume. The Essenza Nobile website also lists it as a "true fougere". Believe none of it! Euterpe is the paragon of oriental masculinity and not even a modern one at that: it already smells like a classic. And it does a fantastic job of it too. Intensely, yes, intensely virile from the first moment you spray it courtesy of a strong, naughtily dirty animalic undertone that refuses to subside until the moment the perfume fully expires from the skin, Euterpe smells of retro brashness, hunger for sex and power. It smells of a man that'd make you feel like the world would come to an end (but who cares...) if he locked you in an erotic embrace. In other words, it smells totally unfashionable. And so very me.

The listing of the perfume as a fougere, if not correct, becomes comprehendible when one attends to the top notes: bergamot, lavender, lemongrass, rosemary, coriander and grapefruit, especially in combination with the patchouli in the basenotes draw a typical chypre canvas (even as there is no moss to be found). Yes, this is a strong impression, but not the only one. Let me explain - this side, the masculine side if you will, provides the sharp toothed, sexy bite of the perfume, something you can appreciate entirely when you consider exactly what the combination of rosemary, pissy coriander, dirty patchouli and animalic base do... They are the aggressive seducers. Add to this the oudh (yes!) which plays both fields from the base and you get a pretty good idea. But that's not all... The other side of Euterpe blossoms and seduces with a mouth drenched in sweetness, using orange blossom (honeyed, tender, in this instance) as a driving engine and carnation (a million kudos for respecting the past), ylang ylang (ditto), rose (again) and cinnamon as catalysts. But as powerful a composition as this already is, it would be nothing without its gooey, warm, nay, smoldering center: Tonka bean, sandalwood, Siam benzoin and vanilla kiss the perfume with soft sweetness from the base. As it dries down the now ambery, vanillic Euterpe smells more and more like a comforting cashmere hug. Imagine Ormonde Jayne's Tolu, but more complex and multifaceted. This comparison should also make clear that the intense masculine edge slowly dies down with the dry-down, even as the animalic edge doesn't. Finally, this amazing oriental gains its wings as a unisex. But who gives a damn about gender distinctions when a perfume is this good?

I know you'll want to have a whiff of this amazing, complex, involved gem so I'm holding a draw! Simply leaving a comment means you automatically enter. Winner will be announced in a week's time, next Friday.
Have a good weekend!

Official Notes:
Head: Bergamot, Lavender, Rosemary, Lemongrass, Coriander, Orange Blossom, Grapefruit
Heart: Rose of Palma, Cinnamon, Rose, Carnation, Ylang Ylang, Clyclamen
Base: Sandalwood, Bezoe Siam, Patchouli, Vetiver grass, Cedar wood, Tonkabean, Vanilla, Oud

Price: 119€ for 100ml or 89€ for 50ml via Essenza Nobile's webshop.

Forget me Not: Scherrer 1 and Scherrer 2 by Jean-Louis Scherrer (Part 2)

In this extra large, double Forget me Not feature, we travelled back in time to see the rise and fall of a largely forgotten fashion name, and my own personal history with the house’s signature scent. The house of Scherrer has managed to produce a perfume in every single decade since the launch of its signature scent. Today, in Part 2, we explore Scherrer’s first two perfumes, Scherrer 1 and 2 – the former, a bold chypre, the latter a cuddly oriental.

Scherrer 1: Instantly recognizable from its opening notes as a grand perfume with unmistakable Parisian flair, Jean-Louis Scherrer is, in my opinion, one of the best chypres ever made. Drenched in bergamot up top, Scherrer starts its journey sunny and bright but quickly starts singing a slightly melancholy romantic tune when the gorgeous hyacinth note is revealed. Bittersweet, delicate and hardy at once, the wonderfully erotic floral note is the perfect introduction to all that is to follow: immense attraction with that “Dare you come closer?” attitude all great chypres share. Scherrer is not shy or timid, and its intentions are clear from the very beginning. Expertly crafted to continuously underscore its animalic appeal from top to bottom, it features ‘stinky’ notes in every single stage: Cassis, with its distinctive, catty, urinous character up top, indolic jasmine and gardenia in the heart, and a glorious civet and musk combo in the base. We have a beautiful continuity thus, spelling brazen sex-appeal from the first moment of the application to the very last faded shadow in the drydown. But if the core, the skeleton of this perfume is wanton, sexy and desperate to relinquish heart, soul and trembling body to the hands of the object of its affection, so is its frame made of harder stuff, fleshed out by a holy, strict constitution of austere, disciplined greens, that look down at anyone who might make a wrong move with an exacting stare that’ll spare no one but the very best. We have unity then, but we also have contradiction: Warm gorgeous carnation and spicy rose for experience and sex appeal; lush gardenia, for the lover who discounts all cautionary tales. But then the classic chypre structure, with powerful oakmoss and green labdanum dominantly keeping everything in check. Scherrer is a beast in a forest, ravaged by passion yet always restrained by the rules, the smells of its home: Lichen, moss, earth, greens, wood. Like Paloma Picasso and the grand lady Cabochard, Jean-Louis Scherrer leaves victims in its wake, having the power to choose the most powerful gladiator. It can be worn as armor, it can be worn for warmth, like a fur coat whose scent it mimics to an extent, it can be worn as a weapon of seduction. Its beauty is the power and the unforgettable, intriguing confidence and animal magnetism it lends to the wearer.

Scherrer 2: Some beasts roar and some purr. This is definitely one of the latter variety. Created in 1986 and meant to capture the spirit of the Scherrer haute couture, Scherrer 2 has the marvelous ability to smell like a true child of its time and unbelievably contemporary at once. There are a few factors that stop this sweet oriental from smelling dated. For first, it is not a sillage monster like so many of its contemporaries. While it indeed has powerful projection and wearers are bound to leave a trail, unlike many of its contemporaries it will do so with enough modesty to not overwhelm everyone that comes in its path. In short, it ain’t vulgar. Secondly, it presents itself with fair, childlike candor and such girly innocence that it manages to completely remove itself from the powersuit associations of its decade. The opening features very fleeting bergamot notes and a touch of green over sweet, boozy aniseed. Very briefly, the scent turns fruity – plumy in fact, with a beautiful wine aspect and then it’s all about the honey. I am used to honey notes smelling sharp and acidic in modern perfumes, something I do not enjoy at all in fact, but if these same reasons have kept you away from honey scents, don’t let them stop you from sniffing this one. The honey note here is smooth and innocent, with beautiful floral hints wafting in and out. As has already been alluded, this might be a scent that makes honey its true focus, but it’s certainly a complex, multifaceted honey. There are hints of flowers: a very innocent jasmine and lily, most recognizable to my nose. There is soft, warm beeswax to be found in its depth, when sniffed closely. Most salient however, is the fact that this is not honey alone, but milk and honey together. Those of you that like me have had the comforting treat made for you while growing up will readily recognize the warm and peculiar, sweet combination. Once it reaches this stage, Scherrer 2 remains like this for hours, generously perfuming the body with the scent of honey and undergoing only minimal changes. With time it does become rather less innocent as the musk starts revealing itself and its sensual ambery base becomes stronger. At the end of the day the skin will smell of soft, powdery heliotrope, sandalwood and warm, soft amber.

Edit: It just struck me just now that Scherrer 2 is really going to appeal to Boudoir lovers. The two don't smell alike -aside from sharing in a prominent honeyed character- but something tells me this is going to be a winner for those who adore Westwood's love it or hate it gem.

Images: The images in this post belong to www.okadi.com and the originals can be bought directly from the OKADI website.

Blue Agava & Cacao by Jo Malone : Perfume Review

The Jo Malone boutique in Thessaloniki adorns Tsimiski street like a brilliant diamond would the ring finger. It might be the parallel to Tsimiski, Mitropoleos street that has become the hub of the most luxurious shops in the city, but Jo Malone has probably made the better choice by placing the boutique in one of the busiest junctions of the shopping center. Exuding undeniable luxury with its chic signature black and cream colors (possibly the chicest color combination known to mankind), gleaming yet warm lights, marble surfaces and wooden floors, the flagship store impresses its Western European élan effortlessly upon passers-by and lends an upscale note to its surroundings. The staff is professional and warm, as helpful, charming and as knowledgeable as any perfumista would desire, and most importantly, as I am pleased to report, never pushy. I can’t resist mentioning that my favorite sales associate working there also happens to be a perfume collector and lover herself, and is an absolute pleasure to converse with. Her favorites in the Jo Malone line closely mirror my own, with Pomegranate Noir coming first and Wild Fig & Cassis (most excellent in soap!) coming in as a close second. There is however, one we disagree on, and that happens to be their best-seller: Blue Agava & Cacao.

I am not used to liking the same of anything as everybody else but it really came as no surprise when upon paying for the Blue Agava & Cacao at the register I got to hear that it is the scent everyone –men and women alike in fact- goes wild about. What’s not to like? Blue Agava & Cacao is as cuddly and comforting as a soft fleece throw under which to snuggle on the couch with a good book and chocolates in the middle of winter. (In fact I could just stop here, and it would be a perfect review, but let’s go on nevertheless.) I wouldn’t have expected intense citrus notes would suit a spicy gourmand so well, but the opening proves me wrong: An incredible hit of salty lime, vaguely reminiscent of the complete tequila works and a shot of bitter orange and grapefruit invigorate the senses and grab the interest. The scent so far is very natural as well as bright, like a ray of sunshine. The lime scent is dispelled within a minute, giving way to a gorgeous, smooth and sweet cardamom with a beautiful, transparent undercurrent of spiced grapefruit. Even though it slowly becomes progressively fainter with time, cardamom lovers should definitely check this one out, since the beautiful spice is a dominant (almost till the end), as well as very well rendered note in this scent. For a while the scent assumes a completely gourmand identity, smelling very much like good quality white chocolate, until suddenly it blooms, flowering in the most attractive manner. I won’t pretend I know what the flower of the agave smells like, but I do get lilies, rose geranium and (officially unlisted but oh-so definitely there) frankincense. This is definitely a deep, sensual symphony that can come across as overwhelming when simply read about, but I will ease your fears by saying that the sweetness is cut and tempered by a dry, peppery note which puts everything into proportion. Further down the line, the much awaited cacao finally makes its appearance and proves to be worth the wait: bittersweet and playful, deep and yummy it makes the skin nuzzle-worthy and addictive. The blend is perfect (yes, really!) with no notes jumping out jarringly screaming for attention. The vanilla used here is absolutely smooth, deep and erotic (and once again very natural smelling) and together with warm musk, complements the cacao to perfection. I only get traces of vetiver and cinnamon in the background; they do not really enter the game as major players, but definitely complete the picture, if this makes sense. The overall impression as I have already mentioned above, is one of luxurious comfort and innocent sensuality; the comfort of soft, good quality fleece, combined with the luxury of cashmere and velvet. Edible yet never overwhelming, this scent is at once soft and noticeable, with a medium projection that invites others to come ever closer to the addictive epicenter. A definite winter scent, if not a winter must for gourmand/oriental lovers.

The Jo Malone line has not been very warmly received by the perfume community, oftentimes receiving flack for its “simplicity”. While I myself am not enamored with the whole line (I actively dislike almost all of the white florals in the line, for example), I do think that this reputation is undeserved to a point and suspect a great deal of the negativity stems not from the quality of the perfumes but rather from the admittedly unimaginative/uninspiring names, which are rather reminiscent of Body Shop creations. It is however a shame to let a whole line pass you by just because the names are not as romantic or complex as we are used to. I have no problem putting my head on the line and say that despite what you might have heard or might be led to think due to the simplistic names, the fragrances themselves are not simplistic. Almost none of them are linear – in fact most of them have a gradual and very perceptible development. Just because something is called “Blue Agava & Cacao” does not mean it only features agave flower and cacao as notes! Furthermore, I sometimes fail to understand why other perfumes that could be blamed for exactly the same things are received with joy and exuberance, anticipation even. A good example would be the Marc Jacobs line of colognes, with names such as “Cucumber”, “Violet” and “Orange” which are, believe me, much more insipid and simplistic than anything ever turned out of the Jo Malone brand. It makes one think…

Images: www.jomalone.co.uk, painting of blue agave via www.roypurcellgalleries.com, agave and cactuses via http://planetapeninsula.org by photographer Miguel Angel

Learning to Love Orange Part 3 – Fleur du Mâle by Jean Paul Gaultier & Fahrenheit 32 by Dior : Perfume Reviews

With releases such as Narciso Rodriguez for Him, Gucci Pour Homme II, Amouage’s marvelous Jubilation XXV, Frederic Malle’s French Lover and Dsquared²’s He Wood, I find 2007 to have been a great year for masculine fragrances. But even if it weren’t for all those perfumes just mentioned, I’d still consider 2007 an excellent year. You see, if I am honest, the two releases I’m most excited about, even more excited in fact (bizarrely so perhaps), than I am about the excellent Jubilation XXV, are Jean Paul Gaultier’s Fleur du Male and Dior’s Fahrenheit 32. More than a year later now, these two fragrances still seem like bright highlights in my mind. I remember being terribly excited at the time of their release about the fact that two mainstream masculine fragrances were breaking the mold of “smell one, smell them all” bland freshness that has been the usual offering in the men’s fragrance department during the last decade. Both heavily featuring orange blossom, they still managed to steer away from the usual bracing eau de cologne background in which the note has traditionally been placed in masculine fragrances. Two sides of the same coin – one warm and comforting, one steely cold – I am still as excited about them today as I was when they were first released.

Fleur du Mâle by Jean Paul Gaultier: On the same musky, ambery, vanillic base that made his original Le Mâle so popular as well as unmistakably recognizable, nose Francis Kurkdjian has built this utterly gorgeous orange blossom scent that embraces femininity in the most faultless manner. After the initial freshness of the top notes fades, the gorgeously sweet orange blossom scent that has all the while been struggling to be freed is finally allowed to bloom. Different facets of it waft in and out for hours: it begins quite indolic and strong, but it becomes rounded and soft over time, its scent often coming across as tinged with accents of tobacco and at times with sunny hay, but presenting itself most beautifully when it finally becomes one with the beautiful vanillic lavender which cradles it warmly underneath. The drydown is at once milky and spiced, sweet and musky, utterly sexy.

Fahrenheit 32 by Dior: While Fleur du Mâle wears its lineage proudly, Fahrenheit 32 veers far away from its original. The first whiff is at once woody and fresh, packing a nicely done –if rather conventional- punch of masculinity in a plume of smoke. Give it a couple of minutes to settle and the absolutely delicious sweetness of freshly chopped spearmint leaves starts to emerge. If you love spearmint as much as I do, this is definitely one fragrance you have to try: the note is realistic, strong, beautiful and long lasting. The orange blossom arrives, frozen, cold to the touch, its usually warm breath surprisingly icy and heart-stoppingly beautiful. Its coolness is further enhanced by the aforementioned freshness of mint, as well as by a combination of dark, cold, earthy vetiver and an incense accord that remains as cool as the interior of a shady, abandoned church. Like Fleur du Mâle, Fahrenheit 32 also presents the wearer with accents of tobacco now and then, but even these threads of warmth don’t manage to dilute the steely cold edge of this perfume. Metallic, salty and iodine, Fahrenheit 32 makes the heart pick up speed with its strangeness.

Both of these fragrances present excellent reinterpretations of the orange blossom’s scent for men. Which one to choose? One is cold, the other warm. One is sexy and inviting, the other is an interesting intellectual, slightly reserved with its affections. I personally would have to go with the Gaultier, for I find it so attractive I have to nuzzle my own arm when wearing it. It must be said however, that I can’t help but be stimulated by the otherworldly coolness of the Dior. It is not often that the juice matches the name so very well – Fahrenheit 32 really is frozen and my nose loves to be intrigued by it.

Ambre 114 & 1969 by Histoires de Parfums : Perfume Reviews

It’s Friday and as promised, we’ll once again be visiting the Histoires de Parfums library. The two perfumes we'll explore today are Ambre 114 and 1969; together they form the “Cult Books” subcategory in Histoires de Parfums' collection of tomes.

· Ambre 114: If you are a fan of amber fragrances, and especially if you like huge, golden holy dragons of scents, like Maître Parfumeur et Gantier’s Ambre Précieux and Artisan’s Ambre Extrême, then you definitely need to try Ambre 114 – you’re going to love it. Ambre 114 pays great emphasis on its gorgeous ambergris note, around which everything seems to revolve with inevitable attraction. It is a wonderfully aromatic take on amber, no doubt due to the use of thyme and nutmeg in the composition. The potion gradually changes from herbal luminescence to a mysterious darkness dimly lit by an incandescent heart of gold. Throughout the development the nose is seduced by a progressively intensifying, exotic smokiness, which finally disperses in the drydown to reveal the most gorgeous vanillic tolu-tobacco accord. Comforting and sensuous at once, this warm golden scent will be perfect for the colder months, ideally in front of a roaring fire.

· 1969: As a teenager, I spent a good number of years obsessed with song lyrics and titles – analyzing them, devising games to play with my friends and often, quite embarrassingly I must admit, replying to questions with them. Something that I discovered through this minor quirk is that numerous songs in both English and other languages are titled 1969. Even more songs reference 1969 in their lyrics. People are fascinated by this year, which has attained a power akin to a magical number in our culture. I am not surprised to see the date crop up on a perfume bottle; 1969 is indeed, as the perfume’s box indicates, a mythical year:

The Beatles give their last public performance.
Boeing 747 makes its maiden flight.
John Lennon and Yoko Ono conduct their Bed-In at the Queen Elizabeth Hotel in Montreal; they record “Give Peace a Chance”
The first message is sent over ARPANET, the forerunner of the Internet; a few months later the first link is established.
The world watches as man takes his first steps on the Moon.
Cold War.
Vietnam.
WOODSTOCK

Perhaps it is that last reference, Woodstock, which has me expecting a patchouli-ladden, headshop extravaganza, done in the most sophisticated manner possible bien sûr, but 1969 is anything but. It is a surprise, much like every event in the unexpectedly significant last year of the decade it pays homage to. It smells like a quaintly decorated shop of sweet culinary delights and fruits. At the very same time, it smells like freshly washed shiny hair, warmed by the sun. It smells edible, but not quite, like candied fruit bewitched. The opening is intense and fruity, like citrus fruits preserved in sugar. And ever so slowly it becomes softer and softer, until the intensity of the fruit dissipates and unfolds, to reveal a perfectly blended, lightly sweet softness underneath. Smelling close, there is something lovely and strange emerging out of the smooth sweetness – something cooling, like mint. The passing of time brings floral notes to the fore, a gentle rose and a shy, mild carnation that become the most salient features of this scent, until finally, in the drydown we are left with a bed of cacao opening its arms to receive the shower of flower petals. This fragrance seems deceptively simple at first, but becomes more and more complex as you get to know it. Its most striking feature, the way it combines coolness with warmth, is definitely worth getting to know.

While we continue to discover the Histoires de Parfum line together, I would like to bring your attention to the fact that the lovely Marina over at Perfume Smelling Things is running a raffle today! The lucky winner will receive a sample packet of all 12 Histoires de Parfum scents.

Images: www.music1969.com and www.histoiresdeparfums.com

MV2 & MV3 by MAC, Perfume Reviews

Drum-roll please! Made my last exams for the year – and with an excellent grade too. Am I happy? Proud? Elated? Well, yes, but most of all, I am tired. All I did for the last ten days was study. No, seriously, you don’t want to see what my house actually looks like from all the neglect. Thank you so much for your patience during my absence and for your supportive comments and emails. Usually the first Monday of the month is devoted to our regular feature, Perfume for the Occasion, but since I had no time to prepare during the previous week and was actually writing exams for four hours on Monday, this month’s PFTO is postponed until next week. Today Fragrance Bouquet returns with two unexpected sweet little sisters.

The girls in question are MAC’s Variation Parfumee MV2 and MV3, two gorgeous variations on the theme of vanilla. I don’t really consider myself a perfume snob, but I certainly did not expect to rate these as highly as I do. MAC is known for its make-up products after all, not its perfumes, and the way the fragrances are packaged and displayed doesn’t really do them justice either: Lined up one after the other in identical glass and plastic bottles with a simple variation on cap color does not really conspire to tell the customer that thought has actually gone into making each scent unique and valued. It is indeed a pleasant discovery to find that there is a MAC perfume for every MAC girl, and that the same attention to detail that goes into their fabulous make-up products, goes into the fragrances as well. I might not have found something to like in every single scent, but I have found two new loves in MV2 and 3. Variation 3 is the one I consider the best of the bunch, in fact I find its smell downright addictive. The opening is incredibly sensual and rather empowering due to its masculine character, a scent that would certainly put me in the right mood if I was getting ready for a night of partying. It is a scent sensitive to one’s own chemistry, smelling sweeter on some and rather more bitter on others (I fall in the latter category), something I certainly enjoy. It is a spicy, playful fragrance, which compliments the main vanilla theme with perfectly proportionate doses of dark coconut and cacao. Leather, vetiver and tolu balsam play great supporting roles, holding everything together and adding character and depth to the otherwise carefree mix. It is a quite effusive fragrance, allowing others to catch delightful whiffs of it every now and then even when the wearer has been prudently modest with application. Unfortunately, despite the fact that the fragrance is long-lasting overall, it does lose its beautiful richness after a couple of hours of wear, leaving one with a great many hours of a dry, less than playful base. I personally find I need to refresh MV3 two or three hours after the initial application, so that I can once again experience its delicious, addictive goodness. Fortunately, the bottle is tiny enough to not become cumbersome in my purse, but I can see how this would be seen as too much trouble for some.

In comparison to MV3, MV2, seems like the simpler, but most certainly not dowdier sister. Perhaps more apt would be to call her the daytime sister, the antipode to MV3’s darker, mysterious sensuality. The most salient trait of MV2, is its instantly recognizable, profoundly milky scent. Those of you that love scents with prominent milky accord (such as Miyako or Feu d’Issey) like I do, should definitely give this one a try, for it is the milkiest of milky scents I’ve ever tried. This beautiful, utterly comforting scent smells like luxurious, high quality Dulce de Leche, bathed in thick, creamy condensed milk. I do not actually perceive the scent of lavender in this perfume, despite it being listed as an official note. What I do smell now and then however is the milky scent of freshly cut grass, a beautiful background freshness that paradoxically manages to fit right in with the warm appeal of this fragrance. Despite all this sounding like a recipe for tooth-rotting disaster, MV2 somehow manages to refrain from being sugary: its sweetness is shy and refined, perfectly cuddling the vanilla heart in a soft-as-clouds, fluffy goodness. The passage of time makes this scent meld wonderfully with one’s own skin-scent , ending up smelling oh-so-sexy, like sun-baked skin. This makes this oriental fragrance smell bizarrely summery indeed.

My only axe to grind with these two beauties is their price: MAC’s philosophy is a promise for excellent, professional quality cosmetics that come in affordable prices. And indeed, the fabulous brand keeps its promise 99% of the time: the quality is indeed amazing, the collections are stunning, the products are of a professional caliber and the prices are great. However, at 26 euro a pop, the fragrances are far from affordable. Sure, 26 euro might seem like a great price initially, but each bottle actually only contains 20ml of juice. Which means that you’d pay 130 euro (about 201$ US) for the usual 100 ml (4 oz)! To be fair it has to be said that the price for bigger bottles is usually cheaper of course, but still, it wouldn't be that much cheaper. That said, they are a great perfume pick-me-up for the perfumista who’s just itching for a new bottle of something, but doesn’t have too much spending money at the moment those all too familiar urges kick in. Certainly, there is something to be said about the smaller bottles, which are becoming less and less ubiquitous nowadays.


Images: Author's own and commons.wikimedia.org

Lolita Lempicka : I Love You Just the Way You Are (Or How I Hate Flankers, and Fleur Defendue in Particular)

Long before it became en vogue to take vintage clothes and redesign, modernize and/or embellish them, Josiane Pividal did just that, soon becoming a success, and after designing for Cacharel for a while, she went on to create her own label in 1983. The label was christened Lolita Lempicka (correctly pronounced Lem-PI-tska by the way, even though the intro on the official website would have you think otherwise), a composite name paying homage to both Vladimir Nabokov’s novel and to Tamara Lempicka, Polish art nouveau painter. In 1997, the house of Lolita Lempicka launched its first fragrance, the homonymous Lolita Lempicka, in eau de parfum. Some fragrances are the same, with very little variation when comparing different concentrations (take Allure Sensuelle for example: the edt is slightly more citrusy up top and slightly less intense overall, but is indeed the same fragrance as the edp), while others vary extensively. When the eau de toilette version of Lolita Lempicka hit the market, it was immediately obvious that it belonged to the second category – it was almost like smelling a different fragrance. Releasing an edt that is so distinctly different was a clever move, for undoubtedly, there is indeed a market for the skinny version of the calorific, opulent vanillic gourmand-oriental. It wasn’t for me however, so I never really paid it too much attention: I remain now just as devoted to the marvelous original as I was then. A sophisticated, updated version of the bombshell gourmand Angel, Lolita Lempicka is playful, feminine, sexy, edible, incredibly long-lasting and immediately noticeable. It also happens to be the one fragrance in my wardrobe that consistently garners the most compliments – both by men and women. The fact that this self-proclaimed fairytale fragrance happens to come in a bottle straight out of a fairytale itself, means I have one more reason to never want to be without it.

What I don’t like about Lolita Lempicka, is that it has produced a sea of flankers so vast, it is enough to confuse the most savvy of sales assistants. Is LL under constant threat of assassination? With more -as exquisitely dressed and fabulously made-up to be just as fair as she- decoys than intergalactic royalty Queen Padme Amidala herself, one would rightly think so! We have Fleur de Minuit (Midnight Flower), a successor to 2004’s L’Eau de Minuit, amplifying the darkness and muskiness of the original, but curbing the ivy freshness and slightly sour cherry note that made it so special. (Worth a sniff though, since the powdery note of the drydown is particularly sexy) We have Les Caprices de Lolita (Lolita’s Whims) which comprise of three different versions of the original, playing up different notes: Caprice Amarena, playing up the Amarena Cherry theme, Caprice Violette, playing up the violet theme and Caprice Reglisse, playing up the licorice theme. We have Eau de Parfum Concentre, in its very own darling vial, a more concentrated version of the original, the exact same promise made by Fleur de Minuit... We have plain Midnight AND Star Dust Midnight Fragrance. We have Eau d’Ete Parfumee, an alcohol-free version. We have Transcendant Sin, the only one so far that rightly deserves its place in the range (and one I hope will become permanent), a limited edition in crystal, which is the pure extrait concentration of the original, with a magnifying glass poised over patchouli leaves and licorice. And finally, we now also have Fleur Defendue (Forbidden Flower), which I’ll have to admit I was quite excited about before actually smelling it. Fleur Defendue looked different, with its slightly anemic, mildly poisonous looking, yellow-green, ripe avocado colored juice. The similarly colored bottle further enhanced this mental association with poisonous, forbidden fruit, hanging in enchanted orchards. I was really hoping this would be a sufficiently different scent to the original, playing with the pure green of meadows and the stinging, yellow-green of bewitched marshes. Well, let me cut to the chase: Fleur Defendue has the fruity-green overtone of Fructis shampoo and just as much sex-appeal. The juice indeed plays with the idea of freshly cut grass, but the result is harsh and badly executed. With anis, licorice and vanilla waaaay back in the background and cherry nowhere to be found, this flanker manages to shed all of the warm, playful aspects that made the original so appealing. It is not quite generic, but it definitely does not deserve to be a shareholder of the fabulous bottle: it cheapens the whole image. It is not stellar. It is not even good. But it is passable and pleasant, clearly aiming at an even younger demographic which I suspect will actually be made really happy with this release during the warmer months.

What is my point? I guess my point is to raise a question on whether all those flankers were really needed and whether they do a good thing (or indeed the opposite) for the brand’s image. Catherine Dauphin, Pacific Creation’s CEO, was quoted in Emballage Digest saying:

“With Lolita Lempicka, we spent a lot of time building the foundations. The different versions and limited editions were designed to gain a strong foothold on the market and the figures would indicate that this approach was the right one: women find Lolita Lempicka very attractive and a genuine relationship has developed between the product and its users.”

Is this actually true, I wonder? How do all these flankers actually help in building a trusting relationship between the average consumer and the brand? Personally all these releases leave me confused and disappointed: Lolita Lempicka is a fragrance I absolutely adore, so when a flanker is released it does, of course, grab my attention. However, when the line becomes so prolific, I can’t help but feel lost and disenchanted. I cannot possibly afford to invest in every different version of the scent, especially when 99% of them are so very close to the original. Many lovers of the scent will be forced to buy these unsniffed, since most department stores only offer testers of the edt and edp. The only thing that comes out of this in my eyes, is disappointment for the true devotees of the scent, who end up feeling they do not have the means to explore each stunningly bottled version of their favorite. What this extraordinarily confusing line of flankers really is, is a bottle collector’s wet dream.

Images: Parfums Lolita Lempicka

Dark Season & Gotham by Neil Morris : Perfume Reviews

It’s Friday, which means we have reached the last day of Neil Morris reviews here on Fragrance Bouquet. I am closing this week -which has been incredible fun by the way- with a review of my personal favorite, Gotham. For those of you who have already tried Neil’s perfumes, I have a question: Which one is your favorite and why? There are still a number of perfumes by Neil I really want to try and top of my list are October and Midnight Tryst. I hope I get to review those here on Fragrance Bouquet soon as well.

Dark Season:

I won’t lie to you: There’s something about Dark Season’s opening that I find deeply perturbing. There’s this almost fluid bitter core, surrounded by strange sweetness. There’s something almost medicinal and a strange body scent, I can’t ignore. There’s this mustiness that makes me feel as though I am all alone in a dark old house, rummaging around for some unfathomable reason... And then I open a drawer that creaks with resistance. It is wooden and empty, but it contains all the mustiness of an unaired tiny space and scent-memories of the various objects held in the past. My heart beats faster, anxiously. I need to get past it, for underneath I smell beautiful sweet spice and I so want to reach it... Patience. Patience for five or ten minutes, no more. And then comfort. The sweet, soothing scent of cinnamon washes it all away.

Candles are lit all at once and the old house is bathed in warm light. I’m glad I waited, every single time. Dark Season transforms into a beautiful oriental scent, perfect for keeping you warm in cold weather. Dark Season whispers of winter holidays, crisp cold air that makes the cheeks go red, happy smiles and joyful hearts as friends get ready to come together under one roof, in a house glowingly inviting. A house which smells sweetly of cinnamon and vanilla. Balancing the light, spicy sweetness, there are decorations of pine needless, smelling fresh, green and pure. Their branches are oozing sticky resin: a strong note with a sticky feel that lances through the composition from beginning to end and makes it positively addictive. But what I admire most about Dark Season, and what keeps me returning to my little sample is the cinnamon. As with clove and carnation, it is a note that can quickly become too thick and overbearing. Too obtrusive, if you will. But Dark Season’s cinnamon is simply perfect. Sweet, light, magical and sheer. It feels like it’s almost sparkling. The overall feeling of this perfume is warming, and as is the case with most of the Neil Morris scents I’ve so far tried, comforting. It has this beautiful ability to form an aura around the wearer, sweet and spicy smelling, rounded and deep, that can be gently smelled from a few feet away, inviting others to come ever closer to find the source. If I’m honest, I’ll admit that this fragrance has made me once again long for cold weather, and believe me, that’s quite a feat. I am SO ready for summer!


Gotham:

I’ve saved the best for last. From all the Neil Morris perfumes I’ve so far smelled, this is my absolute favorite. Every time I wear Gotham, I have the pleasure to see a different side of it, a different manifestation of its beauty. At times it’s all about the flowers, at times it’s all about its animalic base, at times it’s all about the leather. This is not only absolutely gorgeous, it is absolutely timeless. This is exactly the type of fragrance I favor: a “yes Mistress” perfume. Don’t laugh! This is all polished hair, immaculate attire, impossible yet utterly chic heels and... a whip. Cruel seduction, where the coolness of ice meets the heat of the flame. If I could choose only one word to describe this fragrance, it would be ‘magnificent’. The opening is an assault of the senses with a blast of seductive pepper and sparkling citrus. A period of reasonable, deceptive calm follows: a beautiful accord of narcissi and hyacinths that starts out smooth but soon intensifies in the most hypnotic manner. From incredibly floral and ladylike, Gotham soon goes dark and mysterious: A thorny rose scent, whose aroma is accentuated and deepened by the green scent of galbanum. And soon, our diva readies for the kill: the animalic base becomes all the more apparent with notes of musks and leather and even though I’ve never seen a mention of civet in the official notes, I swear I smell its warm pungency rising from my skin. Instant glamour. Instant Sex. Just add red lipstick. Diamonds are optional.

Images: www.imageafter.com and Flickr, originally uploaded by “Lady K!!”

Isfarkand & Tolu by Ormonde Jayne : Perfume Reviews

The last couple of weeks have been an olfactory delight – I finally got acquainted with the Ormonde Jayne line of fragrances via their sample program (definitely worth it, by the way, if you can’t get to the boutique: the price to sample the whole range is 28 pounds, or about 37 euro, postage is complimentary and the presentation is simply delightful!) and even though I have not ended up loving all of them, I have certainly been intrigued by each and every one of them. Finally, after extensive testing, two clear victors emerged: Tolu and Isfarkand have won my heart and there is no going back.

Isfarkand:

Smelling Isfarkand for the first time gave me one of those “oh-my-god!” moments in perfume discoveries, when you know, already from the first sniff, that this is an exceptional fragrance indeed. I quickly sprayed it on the wrist of my partner too and we both spent the rest of the evening with our noses glued to our wrists. My immediate reaction was “Wood!”, his was “Citrus!”... We are both right in a way of course, although we do seem to home in on different aspects of the fragrance when we first smell it. For me, Isfarkand begins with smoke, not tobacco smoke, but rather the smoke of burning aromatic grasses. Behind these hypnotizing, gray tendrils of smoke, there is the most addictive resin to be discovered. And then suddenly, a blast of citrus finally hits me - lime and mandarin, slightly sweet as well as fresh and green all at the same time. This freshness is atypical of most male scents out there: there is no synthetic undertone. This smells so beautiful and natural, that I feel like I am momentarily transported to the side of a pool on a bright sunny day, coctail in hand (Cabana boys optional). At this stage, there is something almost edible about Isfarkand’s peppery freshness. As the scent develops on the skin, the citrus oils become sheer and light, revealing a heart of pure darkness within. It is almost impossible to describe how intriguing this change is. This heart of darkness is made of resin and wood, laced with the darkest vetiver I’ve smelled. I also smell juniper berry and pine resin. I find myself reminded of Encre Noir’s own dark heart, only this is far more summery. Now, I realize using the word dark repeatedly might seem incongruent with saying that this is a sunny, summer scent, but believe me, it is this amazing contradiction that makes Isfarkand such an exceptional, deeply intriguing scent. It is extremely attractive and addictive: I simply can’t inhale this scent deep enough.

Tolu:

Tolu starts with a beautiful caramelized bitter note and then quickly sparkles and shines with orange-rind freshness. There is a lot going on there – it seems like the scent goes under dramatic changes in the space of a few minutes – but once it settles down it reveals incredible depth that feels like the olfactory equivalent of taking a languid dive into a pool of gold. It literally invites you to close your eyes and let yourself be carried into its exotic depths blindly, depths as tactile as crepe silk folds and acres of velvet. It is indeed after the scent has settled and the sparkling, citrusy nuances have subsided, that the true character of this glorious fragrance emerges. It is all about amber and balsamic resins, whose deep sweetness is at once atramentous and golden. The clary sage pops up now and then, its pungent, aromatic scent beautifully complimenting the tolu balsam. I am left admiring the insight of the perfumer for this composition, which allows both accords to enhance each other, fitting together as perfectly as puzzle pieces. Unorthodoxly perhaps, after being allowed to enjoy the full richness of the base notes, Tolu’s skies suddenly clear, to allow a lone ray of light to fall on the most gorgeous, contradictory rose, both musty and ancient and vibrantly intoxicating at the same time. The drydown is cozy and sexy, a return to Tolu’s balsamic base accord, with slight hints of clove and a sprinkling of powder which softens the composition and calms the spirit. Simply put, it is purr inducing. Absolutely unique and intriguing, this warm scent is meant for cold weather. Even though it is not as unisex as Ambre Précieux by Maitre Parfumeur et Gantier or Artisan’s Ambre Extreme, I feel that men can make this scent work too, provided that they are prepared to venture into something sweeter than usual. The longevity of this rounded, ambery oriental is simply amazing, lasting through the night to the next morning... I need a bottle! Better yet, I’d love for this to come into one of Ormonde Jayne’s Parfum d’Or pots! I’d love to appy this already luxurious scent to my chest and my neck with my fingers, leaving a trail of golden flecks behind...


Images: www.ormondejayne.com, commons.wikimedia.org, botanical.com

Moschino by Moschino : Perfume Review

Franco Moschino, the charismatic, ‘ragazzo’ wild boy of Italian fashion, launched Moschino Couture in 1983 and took the fashion world by storm with his wild, provocative designs. He very quickly became known for his iconoclastic, sometimes cocky style, which earned him notoriety among fellow designers and at the same time delighted the public and press who simply couldn’t get enough of his shows. Moschino dared, with laughter as his strongest weapon, to poke fun, spoof and satirize already established ideas in the couture world, which led to a number of lawsuits. Chanel for example sued Moschino for his famous t-shirt, which depicted a television set and read “Channel No.5”. Other famous designs which show his humorous nature and interest in pop culture include his slogan “Ready to Where?”, his Minnie-Mouse dresses, his dinner suits with fork and knife appliqués, his jackets with the words “Expensive Jacket” emblazoned on the back and his blazers which had buttons in the form of windmills. The bottle of the 1995 Moschino fragrance bearing the name of the cheaper prêt-a-porter line Cheap and Chic too pays homage to his fascination with pop culture and whimsical designs, being in the shape of Olive Oyl. Unfortunately, Franco Moschino died an untimely death in 1994, at the age of just 44. The fashion house lives on and I am pleased to report that the direction is still definitively Moschino, especially when it comes to the delightful shoes that drive shoe-holics like myself to dig deep each time, in order to have the latest crazy design. I wish I could say that I am as impressed by the house’s fragrant offerings: it seems that they have taken a turn for the worse through the years, mainly catering to a very limited, youthful demographic with floral-fruity releases such as I love love, L'Eau Cheap and Chic and Funny! (nothing funny about that).

There is a true gem in the Moschino fragrance line however, and that is the homonymous, first fragrance release of the house: Moschino, which launched in 1987, four years after the house was established. Moschino is a beautiful Oriental odalisque, very much in the same spirit as Shalimar and Must de Cartier. (in fact its scent is very much reminiscent of both, so if you do not like Shalimar and Must there is little chance you will find this as wonderful as I do...) It starts out with a rich, thick, almost oily plunge into a world of voluptuous indulgence, a dark room where gold brocade and russet silk shine under the light of a single candle. There is a slight dryness in the opening, acting like a guard that struggles to keep the true sweetness of the fragrance at bay, but soon it is overwhelmed and the sweet, full body of the scent emerges, like a naked but oh-so-ripe Venus, surrounded by whorls of pure darkness. This is a gorgeous oriental indeed, which is all about seduction, adult seduction in fact, without a hint of innocence. The enduring theme throughout the development is vanilla, which forms the powerful flirtatious core. Up top, it is spicy, deceptively dry but soon, as mentioned above, it shows its true character. The carnation prolongs the spiciness for a while longer in the middle notes, but it soon wilts under the pressure of jasmine and ylang ylang which steadily help the dark vanilla become stronger and stronger with their narcotic nature. Then suddenly, all the flowers are muted: the vanilla has finally become irresistible, having shed all pretences. It is now surrounded by strong, ambery-balsamic accents, dancing barefoot on the richest sandalwood. Even though it is not mentioned in the official notes, there is no doubt in my mind that there is a generous amount of opoponax in the blend, hugging everything with its velvety, resinous, lulling scent. Finally, the composition is completed and made absolutely perfect by the smoky, tobacco-like tendrils that keep rising to the top throughout the development. Absolutely darkly erotic!

Images: www.kitmeout.com, Flickr (originally uploaded by Muli Koppel), www.Zappos.com

Pure Purple by Hugo Boss : Perfume Review

I am finally feeling better (I finally managed to wear perfume last night after what seemed like an eon). Normally I am rather careful when my stomach feels as fragile as it still does, and only choose to wear things I am certain I can live with for the rest of the day, but curiosity got the better of me this morning. My little sample of Hugo Pure Purple has been staring at me for a couple of weeks now, willing me to try it. I am always attracted by the Boss advertising campaigns, but never have as much luck with the fragrances, I fear. I hoped that this time things would be different, I was prepared to love this – the notes seemed rather charming to me. I am gonna go ahead, kill the suspense, and tell you right away though, I didn’t. I don’t suppose you look surprised. Neither do I, I guess ... but hope is always nastily bruised when it tumbles down.

The opening of Pure Purple is very candied and fruity – it feels like a little party broke out at the confectionary department. The competition dies down fast: a hit of cherries and bitter almond triumphantly emerge. Not my cup of tea, but a good enough, respectable opening. After the initial gourmand kick, a floral bouquet opens up, slowly muting the almond, while the cherries die a quick and painless death. I cannot pick out any individual flowers – I almost don’t dare to say it, but this feels like a floral soup that is there to give a floral ambience, without quite committing to showcasing the nuances of any single bloom. Are they really there? It feels like an elusive strawberry food flavoring...There, recognizable, but not quite real. It doesn’t sparkle, it fails to bloom, it can’t escape its single-dimensionality. What I do manage to smell clearly though, is an underlying woody base with a hint of dangerous masculinity – which is just about the only interesting part of this perfume. The development is altogether too rapid and soon the floral bouquet finds itself overwhelmed by the woods. Still, this is not the type of woody blend I personally like: it is altogether too thick and not particularly evocative of anything. A hint of patch? A touch of sandal? A certain creaminess? Was all this thrown together and mixed with a stick? It feels like it. I, it turn, feel like shrugging... And that, possibly, says it all. This ain’t a scrubber...It doesn’t even have enough character to make me nauseous, it seems, even though the effort is admittedly valiant. I usually double over when assaulted by such a dense blend of woody notes and the peculiarity of the mild, bothersome sweetness throughout should have made this an even more likely reaction, but no, I still just shrugged it off. Unfortunately, my non-reaction is not the worst thing I can report about Pure Purple. No, the worst part is actually the fact that this does not even smell like a perfume to me... It smells like a shower gel! You know the ones: middle range drugstore shower gel, touted as using the qualities of this or that essential oil to relax you or help you reconnect with your sensual side. They usually do nothing of the sort, but they are pleasant enough and strong enough to have the feel of being infused with essential oils. In fact the closest reminder is Palmolive’s Aromatherapy Anti-Stress Shower Gel. So strongly I was reminded of it in fact, that I had to rush upstairs for a side-by-side comparison. Disappointingly, they are not as close as my initial instinct indicated, but close enough, at least in feel. There is a definite kinship there; they share the same feel, if that makes any sense. And that is what I get from Pure Purple in a few words: the scent of a powerfully scented shower gel in spray format. It feels hastily thrown together – a thoughtless composition that is rather murky and lacks any sophistication whatsoever. To be fair though, I’ll have to grudgingly admit that the drydown is surprisingly good. It is not stellar or unique, but it is intensely comforting: A very feminine, dusty oriental that has the feel of a skin-scent with a hint of powder. It is warm and alluring and the murkiness finally lifts, to reveal clean, sensual skin underneath. Very wintry and rather sexy, like something you’d wear when you know your lover is soon going to nuzzle your neck. (Not too soon though, give the damned soup some time to calm down, alright?)

Lastly...Can we deal with the bottle for a second? Why is it practically identical to Lancome’s Hypnose Eau Légère?

Images: www.100aromatov.ru

Histoire Charnelle by Hubert Maes Créations : Perfume Review

Hubert Maes is the creator of three perfumes so far: Histoire d'un Rêve, Histoire Charnelle and Délicieuse Histoire. He is also the owner of Le Soleil d’Or boutique in Lille, France. I have not tested Histoire d'un Rêve and Délicieuse Histoire extensively enough to have formed a solid opinion on them, but at first sniff the former appeared too girly, young and frivolous for my tastes, while the latter appeared to be altogether too foody. Histoire Charnelle on the other hand was just right – it instantly moved me in a way the other two didn’t, moved me in fact enough to consider buying it on the spot, something I almost never do. What is more surprising though, is that I also felt instantly apologetic upon smelling Histoire Charnelle. Apologetic towards coconut, a note I up until recently deemed rather ...cheap, I guess.

It was only four months ago, in the beginning of July, when I wrote about coconut scents. In that same post I at once admitted to craving coconut scents every summer, yet, at the same time, I adamantly advocated my views on how coconut is never advisable for city-wear, insisted that the note is certainly less than chic, named it inelegant without regret, and even went as far as to say that I am “loath to use the word ‘fragrance’ or ‘perfume’ in the same sentence as coconut”. While I do not yet feel ready to completely revoke these statements for they certainly do apply to most, if not all, of the coconut based fragrances I’d ever smelled before Histoire Charnelle came into my life, I am now forced to admit there do apparently exist exceptions, and Histoire Charnelle is certainly one of them. I couldn’t help but mentally mock my former statements the moment I sniffed it. Even though it is only listed as a top note, coconut is definitely the core of this fragrance, with every other note dancing obediently around it. It never leaves my conscience, persistently remaining the star of the fragrance from the beginning to the end. And yes I do feel apologetic towards it, because it petulantly contradicts everything I’ve ever said about it. Yes, this is an elegant coconut; yes it is chic as can be. Yes, I’d gladly wear it in the city, rain or shine. Yes, yes, yes I’d even wear it in winter, yes, with a tweed jacket and knee length skirt. Yes, I’d wear my leather gloves....With coconut!!! With this coconut.


“She is shadow and figure… she is the woman of today’s world.
This lady, creates envy everywhere she goes.
She leads the dance, she’s ambitious and very conscious of her charm and sensuality.
People look at her when she passes by.”
Hubert Maes, on Histoire Charnelle


Histoire Charnelle means “Carnal Story” and the scent itself is as lusty and warm as the name indicates. The opening is delightfully spicy and, surprisingly perhaps, rather dry, with an intense vintage quality. It is rather thick and bold in character, just as the woman Hubert Maes evokes with the quote above. Uncompromising would be a good word to describe it: This is a fragrance for a woman who cares not what others think of her. In a way, this fragrance smells to me like pure curves... I guess what I am trying to say is that the scent does not evoke images of an ethereal being, but of a creature who is there to stay for as long as she pleases, a provocative presence you cannot possibly ignore. As the fragrance develops on the skin, the dryness slowly disappears (I wish it did last longer, because it is what initially made it so distinguishable) and the scent becomes all the more rounded and voluptuous. I keep getting whiffs of something that smells very spicy, something that vividly makes me think of ground black pepper, but pepper is not one of the listed notes. The cinnamon is deep and dark and adds beautifully to the warmth of this fragrance. Slowly the sweetness of the ambery, vanillic base comes through, making the drydown quite comforting, but I would still hesitate to call it gourmand. To me, this is an oriental fragrance that has enough warmth and voluptuousness to allow the wearer to appear inviting and sensual, but is at the same time elegant enough to allow a certain amount of detachment without appearing false. Beautiful.

Official Notes:
Top Notes: (Fruity-Fresh) pear, coconut, bergamot, tangerine
Heart Notes: (Woody-Aromatic) sandalwood, cedar, patchouli, cinnamon, nutmeg
Base Notes: (Ambergris-Scented) tonka, vanilla

Images: Author's own, www.forzieri.com (artistic interpretation of Forzieri leather jacket w/ fox collar, Author's own) and commons.wikimedia.org

Black Widow by Black Widow: Perfume Review

I love trying out new things. Now, Black Widow is not a brand new fragrance – it was released in 2004 after all, but I was not aware of its existence up until recently. When I saw it was being compared to Opium, one of my all time favorites, I knew I had to try it. The comparison itself is dangerous: these are big shoes to fill. Having tested Black Widow a number of times already, I have to say that those looking for a similar fragrance will be disappointed – the two are as far removed as they can be, except perhaps where the impressive sillage of both is concerned. But those looking for a modern oriental will find something exciting in Black Widow, a peculiar and provocatively flirtatious composition. Inherently naughty, but still comfortingly warm, it can definitely be characterized as a winter scent. Smelling it, I get the feeling Black Widow delights in comfortably hovering between being controversial and highly wearable.

The opening is high-strung, sharp and potent. It takes me a while to recover from its demanding nature, which even though befitting the intriguing name, is not really me. Gladly, this impression does not last very long; the spicy heart notes quickly rise to the top and I find myself drawn to their full character. A striking clove, beautifully blended with nutmeg is the most arresting feature of this piquant heart. If you like nutmeg, you are sure to appreciate it here: it is not just an accent, it is prominent and proud, dressing up the clove like a full dress. Undoubtedly though, the clove is the star of this fragrance. It is central to the composition and to my nose, it seems like everything circles around it admiringly, as though it were the sun in a system of planets. I am intrigued by the strange rendition of the note. It lacks the blooming floralcy, the characteristic notes of carnation most often associated with clove in perfumery. It is stark, dark and earthy instead – a new take on a common theme. The bitterness of the scent is tempered by the rising musk as the fragrance warms on the skin. A really deep musk, strong and persistent, that willfully enfolds the body. It not only serves as an enhancer to the spicy notes, but also adds an element of intrigue in its own right. This is certainly not an innocent, clean musk, nor is it purely animalic. It is darker than that, bewitching, making me wish I could experience it separately. It combines beautifully with resinous opoponax and sandalwood, whose added warmth pave the way for the full, rich amber accord that slowly makes its way to my consciousness. Sweet in character, the amber is enigmatic, mysterious, evoking images of a briefly seen kohl-rimmed eye behind a brilliant orange veil. I find myself pleasantly taken by surprise by the rhythmic interchange that follows and remains throughout the drydown: bitter and sweet, bitter and sweet, coming and going like a hypnotic wave of incense, lapping at the shores of my senses. This alternate cycle through darts of poison and kisses of deep honeyed sweetness keep me alert and excited, finally understanding how well the name, Black Widow, fits the scent itself. Have I found a new love in this perfume? No, even though I have been complimented on it both times I wore it in public. The truth of the matter though is, I find it's not really me. I would have preferred it to be slightly smoother and less sharp. Despite this, I appreciate it. Not only for its lovely interplay between bitter and sweet and its delightfully mysterious character, but also for its inovative presentation of clove, which happens to be one of my favorite notes. Yes, it is true, few things that contain copious amounts of clove fail to find a place in my heart.

Image: Author's Own.
More information on Black Widow can be found on the Black Widow website.