Enchanted Orchid & Blushing Cherry Blossom by Bath & Body Works : Scented Reviews

The weather has been absolutely lovely the last few days: the sky a gorgeous blue without a cloud in sight, the chestnut trees blossoming, the central heating turned off (hopefully) for good and the French doors leading to my balcony left open all day long in order to let the light breeze caress my skin as I work. The days are lasting longer, and all I can think about as evening approaches, is how nice it would be to go out with my friends to sit on a terrace and lazily enjoy tapas, good wine and their smiles under the setting sun. Alas, the fact that my last midterms are only five days away means that I am once again confined in the house, conscientiously studying instead of indulging. But one has to keep thinking positively, right? I might not be able to go out, but I can still bring plenty of the atmosphere I am so craving in my own home. My ritual starts with a long, warm shower around 7 in the evening to relax, before I have to go back to the books. I spritz Enchanted Orchid Body Splash all over my still slightly dump legs and arms and slip into a summery shift. I then pour myself a tiny glass of wine and take my books to the balcony to enjoy the sunset, using an extra chair to rest my legs on. It might not be quite the experience of a buzzing terrace filled with people, and Multivariate Data Analysis is not quite as pleasant company as my friends, but hey, it is a slice of summer. And it makes me smile. The combination of the last couple of hours of warming sunlight with the light breeze and the scent of the Enchanted Orchid splash make me feel like I am transported to a summer resort, worries left behind. This deep, sultry fragrance is truly exotic and perfectly suited to the summer months. The opening smells strongly of apple and vanilla, but soon the scent blooms to reveal a lighter floral bouquet of gardenias surrounded by juicy greens. It is a long lasting, lingering fragrance that makes me feel feminine and refreshed. Its sultriness further makes me feel ready for a real summer evening filled with fun, evoking images of beach parties under the starlight. There’s also something in there that brings a positively tropical atmosphere to mind, even though I am not immediately able to detect any of the typical fruity notes that usually fit the description. The plastic spritzer bottle is going to be the perfect addition to my gym bag this summer. A light misting after the shower and I’ll be ready to enjoy the summer evenings after my workout!

Another Bath & Body Works product I’ve been enjoying lately is the Blushing Cherry Blossom Eau de Toilet. This utterly fresh, ethereal scent is perfect for sunny spring days, adding a touch of femininity to a casual daytime look. Despite the name, this is actually a scent built around a beautiful rose accord, which starts out very light and sparkling and gets progressively warmer and more complex as it warms on the skin. Supporting the rose but not distracting from its role as the star of the fragrance, a note of succulent pear adds playfulness, greens add freshness, while a touch of something dry, like a sprinkiling of dust, adds a realistic dimension to the flower. The drydown is warmer: a woody musk, which comfortably hugs the lingering rose scent. This happy, girly fragrance is great for those who want to add a springtime rose scent to their fragrance rotation without breaking the bank.

Images: Calypso Orchid & Rose Damascena, commons.wikimedia.org

Chypre Fruite by Montale : Perfume Review

Those of you that read Fragrance Bouquet regularly probably already know of my love for Pierre Montale’s line of perfumes. My feelings for the house can be compared to the feeling of helplessly falling in love with someone whom you realize deeply understands you and what you are about the moment you start talking with them. Suddenly a connection is built, much faster than you’d normally expect. Your needs are anticipated, your sentences completed by the other. There’s that proverbial, yet so often elusive ‘click’. There’s that feeling of elated unease that always accompanies this kind of magic. Eyes lock in a privately shared inferno and feelings come pouring down with the power of torrential rain, flooding the heart and soul who are cheering for more. It’s like a drug, that kind of love. It’s dangerous too, for any disappointment weighs much more heavily than it would in a more conventional love story. I must be lucky, for at least this far, Montale has never disappointed me. Even fragrances that are decidedly not me –such as Chypre Vanille or Dew Musk- are still, in my eyes at least, superior creations I would love to smell on someone else. Today, another scent of this almost overwhelmingly prolific line is presented here, on Fragrance Bouquet: Chypre Fruite. This is a fragrance that goes from being light and innocent, to dark and mysterious. Extremely versatile, it can be carried from morning to evening and can easily be worn during every season – although I would reserve it for more formal evening occasions during the summer months.

The opening is surprisingly light, for a Montale, that is. Ethereal and feminine, it brings thoughts of a gorgeous spring day to mind; the type of spring day that drives everyone out of the house to enjoy the sun and light breeze on their skin. The type of day that transcends time, seemingly lasting forever, until the last ray of sun disappears, breaking the spell. Then suddenly, the scent goes from being light and delicate, to rich and effusive. The warmth of the skin makes the scent positively bloom; the effect is akin to a wonderful fruit and flower puree that was sieved clear and left to simmer until we’re left with a powerful, concentrated, glossy culis of pure, unadulterated, refined wonder. What started off as an unsweetened, fragrant combination of wild- and tea rose whose aroma imparted a sense of intricate vintage lace, has become as ornamentally decorated as gem-studded brocade on acres of luxurious, colorful silk. The fruity notes are candied and rich; velvety, creamy peach on a bed of pungent pineapple that’s drenched in its own sticky juices. Behind it all, an overripe note, a dagger of miasma and taint whose twist instantly fills the heart with sin. Forbidden fruit indeed. The chypre base in turn, is as perfectly groomed as you’d expect, but somehow refrains from being haughty. It is a woman that has been around the block a few times, yet shows no signs of being tired, despite having done so on high heels every single time. She now reclines on a velvet-upholstered fainting couch, her lips twitching with faint mirth. It will take some effort to entertain her.

Images: Both Flickr, originally uploaded by Theodora

Charogne and Rossy de Palma by Etat Libre d’Orange : Perfume Reviews

Even though both Charogne and Rossy de Palma are no longer considered that new, these mid-2007 releases by Etat Libre d’Orange are indeed quite new to me, since they took their sweet time to become available here in the Netherlands. I have been most curious about them both for a long time now, so finally, reviews of both!

Charogne:

Charogne’s name and promo are both as unique and as controversial as they come. I doubt there has ever been another perfume touting a name as tasteless as one that literally means “Carrion” nor has there probably ever been a promo as disputatious, eyebrow-raising, or disdain promoting (Although Tom Ford admittedly did a mighty good job of producing the most polemical advertisements of 2007). Both Charogne’s name and promo have come under a lot of fire for being offensive, and for some, even vulgar. I feel a little sheepish, thus, admitting that I didn’t really care. Yes I did want to smell Etat Libre d’Orange’s interpretation of a cadaver. And yes, even though I was aware their official description was perverse, its gimmicky nature left me rather cold. It was all about the juice for me and I felt otherwise completely emotionally uninvolved. Charogne’s opening is very sweet, almost candy-like, teetering just a step away from being cloying. Slowly, the jus calms down to reveal less sweetness, less intensity, more nuanced softness. Even though violet is not among the official listed notes, the lasting impression is that of fragrantly aromatic violets and roses left in a vase to rot. This smell of decomposing, aromatic vegetation is at once prevalent and subtle. This is, surprisingly perhaps when taking the last two sentences into consideration, a very wearable fragrance: there’s absolutely no need to fear that you’ll be going around smelling like a rotting beast that just emerged from a swamp! The aforementioned, dark decadence seems to be a thick vein, running, or rather snaking its way down the middle of this composition, surrounded by vanillic goodness, lightly perfumed with soft leather - soft kidskin, like a shiny, buttery glove. All this is weighed down by heavy musk that is felt deep within – it goes straight to the stomach, if that makes any sense. There is incense: a certain beautiful smokiness, tenderly placed, harmonious and unobtrusive – detectable when smelling close to the skin. The marketing doesn’t do this perfume any good, other than giving it a perverse controversy value meant to stir emotion... “Blissful pestilence” is the most unfair description of this perfume I’ve come across, in fact. The fragrance itself is neither blissful nor pestilent. It is deep, sexy, thoughtful. It is at once almost gourmand with its rather candied sweetness, yet at the same time serious and sophisticated. The heaviness, the darkness of the perfume needs to be counterbalanced with ethereal fabrics and romantic jewelry. The only gothic aspect that befits it, is perhaps a dark red lipstick on dewy skin, the lips quietly mouthing poetry under candlelight at midnight. All in all, I find the much-maligned Charogne to be interesting, deep and addictive.


Rossy De Palma:

The first, fleeting impression is soft rose on a canvas of freshly turned, rich soil. Soon though, the earthiness almost completely disappears, giving way to a thornier, spicy rose. The spiciness tingles the nose, while a strange, green accord keeps it fresh. This greenness is almost a sensation, or perhaps an image – like a powerful green vine, gripping the thorny, spicy rose in its tangling embrace. Adding to the fresh spiciness, a very interesting ginger accord that veers away from the sometimes soapy “aftertaste” I’ve come to associate it with, and instead gives a surprising far-eastern feel to the fragrance. Unfortunately all this does not last long. Half an hour or so later I’ve completely lost trace of everything green and spicy, as well as –most regrettably might I add- any trace of the beautiful, surprising ginger note I fell in love with. Rossy de Palma becomes all about the rose and a light, fragrant patchouli that manages to be woody and leafy at the same time, but unfortunately lacks depth and sensuality. If you are a rose lover, go ahead, smell this one, it is not bad. But chances are you won’t find something to fall in love with in this one: the rose is rather flat and the patchouli uninteresting – there are others that do the rose-patchouli theme much, much better. For a combination that could have been toe-curlingly good, Etat Libre d’Orange missed the mark with this one. One interesting thing I do have to mention though, is that hours after application, the drydown takes you by surprise: It is a lovingly soft combination of cacao and benzoin that leaves you with a warm, gentle vanillic impression that is oh-so-comforting.

Pierre Cardin: Musings and a small Perfume Review (Enigme)

I love Pierre Cardin, whom I consider to be a visionary innovator in the design world, daring and capable. As such, it pains me to write anything less than glowing for one of the creations of this genius who dabbles in everything when it comes to design, and leads the way, opening doors and opportunities for the rest, which will undoubtedly follow in his pioneering steps. Yet, despite my admiration, I must remain impartial and admit that I am not a big fan of Enigme. Nor am I, as a matter of fact, a fan of all the fragrant offerings of the house, even though I wish I were. It would be wonderful to be able to claim that I am seduced by each and every one of them, proving that romantic ideal right – that one can follow a house with devotion, like a proselytized apostle.

Pierre Cardin fragrances are notoriously hard to come across, a fact that has led me to keep six backup bottles of Rose in my closet, just to ease my mind of the fear that I might one day have to do without. (A most unpleasant experience that has occurred in the past, leaving me craving it for years, like an addict) So, it will probably come as no surprise, that when I found myself in Paris, I wanted to visit one of the Pierre Cardin Boutiques on my first day already. Finally, I’d be able to smell all of the fragrances I’d been curious about for years – since the only ones I’d been familiar with thus far were Choc and Rose. The boutique itself was different than other houses I’d visited - darker, quieter, old-fashioned. It was immediately obvious that it is not geared towards a younger, modern clientele like the rest of the houses I have visited, but to a different type of customer: A more mature lady that will make an appointment for a fitting beforehand, or one that will pop in to add one more of the fabulous hats to her collection. If I didn’t know better, I might even think that this was a sign of stale decline – but the house is doing well. I decided to instead be charmed by the more traditional attitude and savor it, like gaining admittance to witness a piece of the past. (A little funny tidbit too: Once I’d made my request inside, that is, to be led to the collection of Cardin perfumes, I was immediately asked: “You want Rose, non?” I still ask myself whether it is immediately obvious that I am a Rose girl, or just that it is expected that the customer will ask for Rose, since even in their minds, it is the best of the lineup. Or perhaps I am being a romantic once again, and the plain fact is that Rose is the most well known female fragrance of the house. Regardless, seeing as I’ll never know, I like to flatter myself by thinking that I am strikingly, obviously, a Rose wearer.) Once before the rotating, peculiar stand that holds the fragrances I found myself excited by some - like the latest additions to the family, Tristan et Yseult- and disappointed by others, like poor Ophelia. I left the boutique quite happy with a bottle of Choc and a sample of Enigme.

Today, while remembering that beautiful sunny day, I am sampling Enigme for the second time. Enigme, released in 1992, debuted as the second male fragrance by the house, exactly 20 years after the release of Pierre Cardin pour Monsieur in 1972. I do not know exactly what the thought process behind the flacon was, but I find it slightly disturbing, as I do –albeit to a lesser extent- the flacon for Centaure. Even though Enigme is not unrefined, by today’s standards it does smell raw and savage. It is a bit as though its release was off the mark by some years, as in many ways it is reminiscent of a typical ‘80s fragrance: Big sillage, big statement, big ego, big everything. Even the fresh top notes seem to be announcing, nay, loudly declaring, the potent virility of the wearer. From the beginning already, this freshness finds itself struggling in a battle it is obviously going to lose from the imminent leather that is going to follow. For a while it manages to conceal its other great opponent, a cloying, yet somehow soft sweetness that is trying to emerge. Then it dies, perhaps for the better too, as I find that freshness is the last thing this fragrance was ever about. It seems to me as though it was always an after-thought, a well-known gimmick for male grooming products the world over. “Good riddance!”, the stronger elements of Enigme proclaim, and as though appeased due to the fact they no longer have to assert their presence over the briskness of their competitors, they too calm down, leaving behind part of their obnoxious character. I find the emerging clove alluring, but by that time I have already given up on this fragrance. ...Then an hour or two later, I lift my wrist to my nose instinctively, as one does when wearing a perfume they are not used to, and find, to my great surprise, something entirely different. Spicy, flowery, woody, softly sweet...it reminds me of an old friend. I don’t really have to think much about it, I know which favorite it has brought to mind almost immediately: Jacomo de Jacomo. I find new respect for Enigme. No, it is not as subtly nuanced as Jacomo, nor as unique. It is not as daring as Jacomo either, for where Jacomo dared to be vergining towards femininity, Enigme is still very much a man’s perfume without the shadow of a doubt. But its transformation is so shocking, I find myself delighted. If it was not so unabashedly retro-macho, I might even begin to like it. And on the right man I probably would. A graying, utterly confident dandy you can’t help but love. A raging heterosexual dandy, that is.

Images courtesy of: www.luggageonline.com and www.1stperfume.com

Rose d'Homme by Les Parfums de Rosine

It often happens to me that upon smelling a fragrance, my mind assumes the role of a matchmaker and forever associates it with another, forever pairing the two in a beautiful marriage of a male and female scent that compliment each other. I have hinted to this previously when reviewing Blue Jeans, which is –in my mind- paired with Lolita by Lolita Lempicka. When I smelled Rose d’Homme by Les Parfums de Rosine for the first time a few months ago, my first excited thought was that this was the perfect counterpart to Aromatics Elixir by Clinique. I found it wonderfully spicy, warm and dry at the same time, unique. Subsequent sampling from the little decant that was made for me in the past couple of months has left me wondering if it is indeed the same perfume I smelled on that first occasion. My mind now vehemently rejects the idea that it ever suggested this potion could be paired with Aromatics Elixir and attempts to find explanations for the disappointment I am experiencing. Did my friend decant from the wrong bottle? Has my sample turned? But no satisfactory explanation can be given: the bottle we decanted from was fresh and we labeled my vial on the spot. I will just have to accept the fact that my nose was fooled.



The notes of Rose d’Homme can only be described as extremely obvious – I found it very easy to deconstruct. One gets exactly what one was promised, and what’s more, at the exact sequence that was promised too! The opening comprises of spicy citrus that smells positively aged, so reminiscent of vintage French cologne that it easily brought back the same feelings of guilt I once got as a toddler when I accidentally spilled the remnants of an old fragrance my grandmother’s brother had brought back from Paris and was unable to wash off my hands to hide the evidence. The woody, citrus opening soon softens enough to allow lavender and hay to permeate the surface, lending the fragrance an intensely soapy and slightly powdery feel. I have to say that this is most certainly not my favorite rendition of lavender, but then again none of the notes in Rose d’Homme show their best side to my senses. In fact, the more the development progresses, the more trouble I have finding things to appreciate about this fragrance. At the drydown stage, a soft, old-fashioned rose is struggling to disentangle itself from the oppressing, cruel embrace of leather infused with patchouli. It is at this point I usually decide this must be some sort of noxious poison meant for the male skin. And it is certainly not the skin of a long-lashed dandy, but that of an oily, heavy-set man, whose leer I’d rather avoid. It can be described as mature, and not in a good way. Despite my obvious disappointment and current dislike of Rose d’Homme I do have to admit that it does deserve attention. It is not a run of the mill male fragrance that is likely to produce a yawn. If there is one thing that has remained constant since my initial evaluation, is its state of uniqueness when compared to current releases. For that reason, I do wholeheartedly suggest that it be experienced at least once. Who knows, perhaps you can appreciate it more than I do.

The image is the work of Leslie Hancock, sourced from photo.net

Nahema by Guerlain : Perfume Review

Have you ever buried your nose in a fabulous rose? Imagine the experience magnified a hundred times...Take away the musty, earthy odor, for this is a new, waxy rose, its petals still tightly wrapped together, yet the godly scent is flowing unfaltering, unstoppable out of its calyx. Yes, Nahema starts out with a triple dose of rose, heady and determined, but the top notes are soon joined by bergamot and tangerine. In no way does my mind’s eye leave the mystical rose garden yet though. Their citrusy scent, instead of making the mental imagery diverge, consolidates the grandeur of the flower. The notes blend so well I am instead left imagining dried rosehip, with its distinctive citrusy tang. The base notes of sandalwood and vetiver are not far behind, making an early appearance, somehow preceding the middle notes, helping the image complete itself as my nose follows the shape of the plant to its woody base. It is not an outline of a rose; it is no plain sketch. This is the living bush, three-dimensional and glorious. In the drydown, any freshness our rose had is strangled, dying the sweetest death in the enveloping embrace of the narcotic, oily passion of ylang-ylang; a passion enhanced by the fragrance of overripe, juicy peach. And this is the only thing that rouses me from my focus on the rose... It makes me rise to my feet in my imaginary rose garden with eyes half-closed, beckoned by the heavy trail that somehow manages to refrain from being either oppressing, or cloying. It is an intense, sweet but never saccharine, inebriating trail I just have to follow. All I know when I am conscious of my thoughts again is that I am left in liquid, dangerous darkness. It is then I realize that the rose garden was never set in dusk; it was all an illusion. Darkness all around, Nahema operates in the night. I had been blind. There are no flowers around, just the lingering scent of a mysterious woman. A woman with red lipstick and dark clothes, layers upon layers of beautifully cut, couturier clothes and silk stockings. It will take a man precious time to undress her, precious time relishing the peeling of every single garment, every string of pearls. The only thing he will not be able to strip her of is her savage perfume, a scent that’ll haunt him.

Picture courtesy of www.johnswoodcraft.com

Putain des Palaces by Etat Libre d’Orange : Pefume Review

I have often mused whether this perfume is not named with the intent to scandalize, but instead, with the far more intelligent purport to satirize the banality of every other flower-bomb out there in the market. Creations with the sole aim to target all the lolita-esque creatures that go perfume shopping with the subconscious (or perhaps conscious) wish to amp their wet-dream potential. Nowhere near common is this masterfully blended putain by Etat Libre d’Orange. It opens up with a furious blend of flowers, so heady and strong and sweet that almost made me dismiss it. Violets and roses, sugared and dark, leave the wearer breathless. Then as the perfume sets, my mind’s eye catches glimmers of a woman, the alabaster-skinned beauty I immediately identify as Putain des Palaces. She is dipping her toe in a claw-foot tub. Red rose petals are floating in the water and serve to scent her skin exquisitely. This mixture of fresh water and rose petals has me ensnared and I can only wish this innocent intermezzo would last longer. But she has other plans, already planning the evening ahead. As Putain des Palaces continues to develop, I can clearly smell the juices of Clementine mandarins. The experience becomes even more decidedly gourmand with the addition of bittersweet almond essence and anise. I imagine the woman getting ready in her candlelit boudoir again, picking up her corset and silk robe from her canopied bed. Her languid bath over, her expression is unreadable - covered by the thick mask of her powder, applied with a heavy hand. The faintest whiff of leather rises from the leather lacing of her new corset. Her erotic musk will only be discerned by the one that leans to bite her neck.

Image courtesy of www.bestcompanyamsterdam.com