Elixir de Parfum Comme une Evidence by Yves Rocher : Perfume Review

I discovered Comme une Evidence back in June and instantly fell in love with it, specifically with the Elixir version of it. I do not have a bottle, or even a sample of the EdP version here with me in order to do a side-by-side comparison, but from what I remember, the two are as far apart as night and day. Comme une Evidence EdP is lighter and while the two are clearly siblings, the EdP seemed to me rather forgettable and unremarkable, while the Elixir is rich, voluptuous and unique. Smelling it for the first time, I had this unmistakable sense of recognition hit me. Not because Comme une Evidence smells like anything I have smelled before, but because one whiff of it is enough to transport me to a whole different era of perfumes – an era ranging from the mid 70’s to the end of the 80’s, an era during which so many of the classics I love where created. It came as a bit of a shock, to be honest, to find out it was launched in 2003. This lovely floral chypre has all the elegance, character and yes, integrity of a classic.

The opening is very green and dry, with just a hint of crispness. For the first five minutes or so, a delicious, fruity sourness seems to run through it, smelling not unlike the thin trickle left by the juice of a green, unripe crabapple. Then it subsides and slowly, the greenness unfolds like a large bud, allowing glimpses of the flowers within. Slowly, the lily of the valley and rose are produced, tantalizingly waved under the nose, with the muguet claiming center stage at first, young and fearless. It dances around on the skin like a lithe Fay creature come springtime, so happy it seems to be out and about. The rose at this point seems watery, shy and subtle. And I say seems, for before long the warmth of the skin does its magic and it too emerges, its petals opening up in defiance to the muguet. The two vie for attention for a while and then settle down apparently happy to co-exist for a while inside the arms of the ever-waning freshness. Their green bed is changing character, becoming all the more mature and haughty: A bed of moss permeated by prickly spiciness which seduces the nose with its stylish elegance. Beautiful thorns run through it, like shards of black diamonds and rubies. The defiant rose awakens and reveals it was just biding its time, crushing the lily of the valley under its manicured, clawed fist, helped by the amorous patchouli and moss that embrace it. The patchouli is sheer but potent, matching every bet made by the thorny tentacles of the rose. The scene is savage but entrancing. There’s no mistake: Spring has given way to a furious winter. Indeed, I cannot imagine this perfume being worn in anything but cold weather. So evocative is this scent, my mind has no trouble conjuring countless images when I wear it. But there is one constant image that strikes me each time I smell it. A beautiful tweed suit, the skirt grazing the knees, worn over a magnificent pair of Charles Jourdan pumps - Jourdan from the 70’s or 80’s of course, long before the house became completely unrecognizable in terms of quality and design. If there is one last thing I should add about this fragrance is that it is pure woman. This is a distinction not pertaining to sex, but indeed a distinction separating the women from the girls. This is a perfume for the former.

Images courtesy of: www.look-at.com, http://commons.wikimedia.org and www.apph25.dsl.pipex.com

212 Sexy by Carolina Herrera : Perfume Review

Today I felt like challenging myself a little bit. You see, it’s so much more exciting to write about fragrances that I love or at least admire -whether these are niche or mainstream releases. And it’s so much easier to write about fragrances that move me, either in a positive or negative way, than about fragrances that leave me completely cold. But as I said, today was all about the challenge, so instead of carefully picking out my subject for the day as I usually do, I decided to surprise myself instead. I dipped my hand in a bag of haphazardly stashed samples and came up with Carolina Herrera’s 212 Sexy. Ignoring the little voice inside my head moaning with dread –for there is no Herrera fragrance I’ve come to appreciate- I set about testing it and keeping notes.

Imagine my surprise, when despite all my prejudice and preconceived notions, I found myself quietly impressed with the opening of this 2004 flanker. The opening was full of sophisticated, lovely bitterness and the bite of pepper stung my nose pleasantly. I decided to let my guard down as my interest was getting piqued and found myself, if not seduced, then certainly interested by the freshness of a not-quite-ripe tangerine rind. Just as I was musing about how the bitter freshness and the pepper smelled like a recipe for success to me, I was rudely awakened to the fact that the fragrance had drastically changed in the blink of an eyelid. Underneath the freshness, a deep, masculine scent was rising to the top, not quite unpleasant, but not what I expected either. There was an undeniable roughness and fullness there that did not befit the elegantly crisp opening. Slightly panicky, I checked the sample for fear I’d made a mistake and was sampling 212 Sexy Men instead, but no, no mistake there. I settled down, following the progress with slight bewilderment. The masculine edge got fainter and fainter as time went by, but unfortunately, so did the bitterness. Twenty minutes later, it had completely given way to a peculiar caramelly sweetness, which in turn quickly evolved to a very realistic rendition of cotton candy.
So realistic in fact, I almost felt like I was standing in front of a street vendor, the scent of burnt sugar surrounding me. As if that was not horrifying enough, there was a certain undertone of slightly sick vanilla there, tinged with something not quite right, something cheap, smelling faintly of wet cardboard. A boozy gardenia that might have otherwise been quite pleasant (at least in the face of adversity posed by the evil cotton candy) made an appearance at some point there, or at least gave it its best shot, weighed down as it was by the monstrous goop of sweetness. Finally, thankfully, I reached the end of this Kafkasian metamorphosis: Sour vanilla, a dose of wood, musk and last but not least, wet cardboard. Perhaps even worse than the wet cardboard note though, is the unmistakable, unforgivable flatness of the end result. It’s just too bad for the interesting opening. It’s worth a spritz, just for the sake of experiencing that beautiful bitterness. Spray and sniff quickly, blink and you missed it. Be prepared to scrub it off too, afterwards. You deserve to smell better than this.

Images courtesy of: http://wallpaper.narak.com and http://commons.wikimedia.org

Skin² by Ava Luxe : Perfume Review

Give me something that blurs the lines between the point where my own skin’s scent ends and the point where the fragrance itself begins and chances are I’ll love it. I passionately seek these fragrances out and it always gives me such a feeling of satisfaction when I find a new one to add to my collection. It comes as no surprise then, that when I found Ava Luxe a year or so earlier, the first fragrance I wished to sample was Skin². The blurb, which read “A wonderful classic skin musk scent. This is a clean and slightly powdery musk that blends with your natural skin scent and creates your own unique fragrance.” was simply irresistible. My expectations were so high, I was almost disappointed when my sample arrived. I was expecting the Holy Grail of skin-emulating scents; the skin scent that would end the search for any other once and for all. Of course, as any perfumista will confess, this is a futile aspiration: There is always something else to sniff. Hope springs eternal in the true perfume addict – there is always something else to sniff and who knows, it might be extraordinary, more extraordinary than last time. It is the search for the ultimate high, if not its darker twin, the search for the original high... But, as I was saying, the sample arrived and before I had the chance to be fully disappointed by the fact that it was not perhaps the One, I fell deeply in love. I placed an order for a full bottle the next day, without ever feeling the need for a second thought, for Skin² is, as it turned out, perfect.

There are so many things I find hard to pinpoint about this scent. One of them is why it feels so familiar, so comfortable. The first time I smelled it, I had this feeling of instant recognition, like meeting someone for the first time and having the feeling you’d met them before. The mind becomes confused, offering ridiculous explanations ranging from childhood occurrences to the even more unlikely memories belonging to the world of dreams. A year later, that peculiar feeling of deja vous is still there, but I can let go. Skin² and I have made our own memories together and they’ve slowly replaced the aimless search for something that is not really there. They are all beautiful memories – perhaps because it feels like nothing can go wrong when I wear this scent. Even though it is not what you’d call a “sunshine” scent, it is in my eyes wellbeing encapsulated. Its sense of comfort and balance is unparalleled, almost as though it works on a hormonal level. Or perhaps as though it contains positive energy. Describing how it smells without using the word musk over and over again is hard. I feel obliged to make it clear though –because the comparison has cropped up here and there in the past- that it does not smell anything like White Musk from The Body Shop nor like Alyssa Ashley’s Musk. Not by a longshot. I personally would say that it is in a way, clean and beautiful skin, but better. To fully appreciate it, one has to wait a while for it to warm up on the skin. It starts with a mind of its own, muskier, stronger than it will soon turn out to be. Then, sooner than you’d expect perhaps, it melds with the skin, becoming strictly personal, warmer, sensual. It is indeed slightly powdery, especially in the beginning, but at the same time very, very sexy. And then, there is this fascinating feeling of sweetness that never becomes full, just remains sheer, like an overall impression. Another thing that makes me fall in love with Skin² is the soft trace of what I interpret as the smell of a smooth spirit, like a very good, well-aged brandy. Which brings me to yet another thing I find hard to pinpoint about it... The peculiar sense of something vaguely woody in there, so minute that it can only be likened to a footprint in the sand, in the process of being erased by a gentle wave. I entertain the thought of the brandy again, aging for years in dark, wooden casks. These merest hints of something I cannot quite touch or explain still drive me crazy, like familiar words that have been jumbled beyond recognition. They are in all likelihood simpler than I make them out to be, I think to myself. But whatever they might be, I love them. As to whether this is my current holder of the Holy Grail of skin-emulating scents? No... But that’s a story for another day, isn’t it?

Image courtesy of http://specialoffers.starwoodhotels.com

Sacrebleu by Parfums de Nicolai : Perfume Review

I wouldn’t buy a full bottle of Sacrebleu. I don’t really like it, you see. I wouldn’t want to wear it outside. I wouldn’t want to actually smell of it. But all the same, I can’t help admiring it, or craving to sniff it on my skin from time to time. It is every couple of months or so, when I will have forgotten exactly what it smells like, that my mind will prompt me to spray a little bit on my wrist to smell it again. Undoubtedly, something draws me to it. Unfailingly, this little something will tell me it smells like candied violet petals and it will insist that it wants to smell it again. Unfailingly that little something will be disappointed again, because Sacrebleu does not in fact smell like violet petals, candied or not. But for a while it will be satiated anyhow, for if Sacrebleu can be visualized as a color, it is indeed a deep dark violet – a viscous abyss I am more than content to swim in, if only for a while.

This is a fragrance full of richness and warmth. It makes me in a way think of an 80’s classic, and a reference to Cacharel’s Loulou will not be lost on those that know and love it. It is sweet and dense: Apply too much and you’ll be left tangled in a sticky mess, hot under the cover of a heavy velvet cape. Apply with caution though, and you’ll be able to appreciate all the little gems and flecks of gold that have been carefully worked in the very same deep purple velvet, now taking the form of gorgeous bustier. The mandarin in the opening is only a hint: You can smell it here and there, as though someone nearby is peeling the fruit with gusto and droplets of the potent oil are flying, threatening to get in your eye. The carnation and tuberose blend seamlessly as they simmer together in the folds of a fruity pulp. A sprinkling of cinnamon and cloves and the result is almost –almost- edible. What makes the sweetness bearable –and indeed beautiful- is a sword of sappy greens lancing through the mixture. And maybe, just maybe, it’s not just my imagination and the hilt is really made of green violet leaves.

Despite the impenetrable feel of a heavy veil this perfume creates, it somehow manages to also evoke the feel of washed, clean hair on a bright, sunny autumn day. The shiny, never dyed hair of a childlike woman: An overgrown little girl, really, getting her way through life, unaware of struggle. She is only barely aware of her real age, as witnessed by the short but at the same time sensible skirt worn over her Prada ballerinas. That’s Sacrebleu, inherently optimistic, if only because it doesn’t know any better.

Images Courtesy of: www.quatropb.sk, abm-enterprises.net (Fractal Art by Vicky Brago-Mitchell) and www.nitrolicious.com

Edwardian Bouquet by Floris : Perfume Review

I cannot resist spending a lot of time shopping when visiting Thessaloniki. Well alright, I'll admit, I cannot resist shopping - period, but the habit tends to become exacerbated while traveling. You see, much as I adore our beloved capital, Amsterdam, it can at times be characterized as fashion starved. Thessaloniki thus, can be awarded the distinction of being fashion forward, if only by comparison. (har-har...) No, truly, you’d feel the same way too, if you lived in a country where once you walked into one of the few places carrying designer goods you’d be lucky to find a Marc Jacobs shoe from a two-year-old collection. NOT on the sales rack mind, full price. That’s right, the trash on the sales rack is pure comedy gold. But still not as funny as the old stuff being passed off as new at full price in the rest of the shop. Aherm... As I was saying, Thessaloniki is a good place to shop, let’s leave it at that for now. While browsing a magazine on one of the first days of my vacation I happened upon pictures of a Julien Macdonald fashion show that took place in one of the city’s hotels recently. In one of them, Julien was smiling bright together with Anna Kapsali, the wonderfully eccentric, hat-addicted and very, very talented stylist who as it turns out, also owns Style Fax, a relatively new shop in town. Fast-forward to the next day and I am the proud owner of a whimsical new skirt, which Anna, with her sensual, raspy voice, is giving me tips on what to wear it with. But that’s not all. It was not just clothes, beautiful bags and strange hats that I found at Style Fax. A collection of Floris perfumes was on display in an alcove near the register. I requested a sample of the one that impressed me most and left with it along with my new skirt. I am now of course mentally kicking myself for not buying a full bottle, but I am already planning a weekend getaway sometime in October, so I’ll just have to look forward to it.

The sample was, of course, Edwardian Bouquet. Originally launched in 1901 and re-orchestrated in 1984, this is a creation by Floris, a house that boasts being the oldest family owned perfumer. Feeling slightly guilty and at the same time perturbed, for what I am about to utter is indeed truthful but at the same time misleading, I have to start by saying that this is something of a little treasure you’d expect to find in the back of your grandmother’s closet. It smells like the conceptualized version of a grandmother’s vintage perfume – no, make that the conceptualized version of countless grandmothers’ vintage perfumes. It is in essence what the collective belief of a group of people’s notion of an old fragrance would smell like, if said belief could be distilled over and over again into the perfect sample. Granted, this is not your average, garden-variety grandma. She is glamorous. She used to take her fur stole with a side order of tasteful costume jewelry. She wore gloves.

Being powdery is something that has come to be expected of perfumes characterized as vintage or old smelling. Edwardian Bouquet is NOT powdery though, just old fashioned. And even that doesn’t manage to stop a dab of it from being beguilingly sexy on the right bare shoulders... It certainly makes an impact. It is however, ever so slightly soapy, making me think of that old practice of hiding a good, expensive bar of soap in a chest of drawers in order to keep the linen smelling fresh. It is a bitter-floral bouquet; satisfying, elegant. The bergamot springs instant and immediate recognition, but I find my nose slightly more troubled when looking for the jasmine and hyacinth. They lack the transparency, the reality if you will, they would have in a modern melange. They are intense, but highly perfumey... Not plastic, believe me, that is not what I mean at all, but conceptualized in perfume language in a way that makes them quite far removed from their natural setting. As it settles and warms on the skin, some of its original bitterness is lost. The galbanum, moss and amber combination give it a seductive depth that begs the nose to be buried deeper into the skin so as it might better discover the slight nuances of the hidden layers. When all is said and done, I have to say that the best part for me is that behind the subtly floral yet strong bouquet, there is the undoubted marking of something not quite right... Something almost dirty, something almost unwashed. And yes, this is what draws me to it, perversely.

Images courtesy of: www.sftravel.com, www.amazon.com and www.vintagetextile.com

The Fragrance Bouquet is Back from Summer Vacation!

Three whole weeks of sun and sea, three weeks of marvelous sights and smells ... Do I feel rested? No, not quite. It’s not in my character to lounge much, preferring instead to wake up as early as possible in order to turn every single day into a whirlwind of activity, ensuring that not a moment of precious vacation time goes wasted. Trying to fit as much in a day as humanly possible can be quite exhausting, as a matter of fact. But what sweet exhaustion this is and how awkward it seems to be back, enrolled once more in the hustle of real life responsibilities. It took a three-hour flight to go from searing heat to chilling cold and I am still pretending I never returned, stubbornly wearing summer clothes and refusing to turn the heating on. Phonecalls, emails, appointments, books, friends and colleagues are all jostling for my attention but I can still take refuge for a day behind the excuse of having to unpack the inordinate amount of things I have brought back with me. But what I’ll do instead right now, is write for Fragrance Bouquet – because I’ve sorely missed it, as I have missed you all. There are lots of surprises waiting around the corner. Lots of trips we are going to take together, into the wonderful world of fragrance. Trips exciting enough to console me, now that summer is quickly coming to an end. Are you ready? Let’s go!

Fragrance Bouquet on Summer Vacation

My dears,

I am writing from Greece! I really wanted to post before I actually left, but things got so crazy on Friday... As I have said before, I somehow manage to not get almost any sleep before I leave on a trip. Friday was no exception. I was planning to write a nice post, but actually ended up packing until midnight and slept an hour later. I guess one in the morning does not sound too bad unless you know that...I had to wake up at four to go to the airport! Yes, I once again travelled with three hours of sleep. At least I've managed to rest since then. Now that I have access to the internet I can finally post that I am on vacarion. I was so worried that I was not going to be able to post for a while, seemingly disappeared without a word, but I guess my worries were unfounded. I am in the city now but leaving for the mountain on Friday and after that I am going to an island. With this in mind, I know it will be difficult to make a post here. So, in case it actually proves impossible, I am letting you know I will be back on the 20th of August. In case I do not get to post at all until then, I will miss you all. I am looking forward to seeing you again in a couple of weeks with more fragrant surprises!

Park Avenue by Bond No. 9 : Perfume Review

There is a garden that no longer exists anywhere but in my own heart, but its colors are still as vivid as they were when I could freely run and play in it as a child. It was my grandmother’s garden, where I spent a great deal of my childhood. The smells and colors throughout the year were truly a sight to behold... From the spectacular extravaganza of flowers to the generous fruit-bearing trees, I consider myself to have been a very lucky child indeed, to have been given the opportunity to make this magical place my playground. I’d tirelessly watch the snails feasting on clovers under the fig tree in summer, I’d see the pomegranate tree flower its gorgeous, fiery colored blooms in summer and autumn, until finally it would bear its huge, ultra sweet fruit in winter. I’d marvel at the wonders of the sun, for the apples would blush on the side that the light hit them, while their other half would remain pale. I’d gorge myself on freshly picked apricots while running through the rose bushes. In the morning I’d naughtily steal a sip of grandma’s coffee under the honeysuckle, while at night I’d be lulled to sleep with the narcotic smell of jasmine that would waft through the open window. But what I remember most fondly, was the chamomile lawn on the western side of the garden. Come spring, a dense carpet of intense yellow and blinding white would cover that patch of earth and every day I’d roll around in it, giggling, imagining god knows what anymore. By the end of the day, I’d be covered with its fruity, slightly sour scent. Sometimes grandma would make a chamomile circlet and she would fasten it in my at the time still naturally golden locks and I’d laugh and laugh, pretending to be the spirit of May. But the best part always came in the summer. We’d bring large metal oven dishes in the garden and would fill them with the fragrant heads of the flowers. Then we’d let them dry in the sun for days so we’d have enough chamomile to last us throughout winter for my favorite, fragrant soothing drink: chamomile tea.

With such lively memories, it is no wonder that I have long been looking for a scent that makes good use of chamomile. When I came across a sample of Park Avenue by Bond No. 9 I was naturally, very excited. This humble, yet noble plant is so close to my heart that my expectations were certainly high. I am glad to say, I was not disappointed. Chamomile deserves a composition that is uncluttered enough to allow its beauty to shine through, and indeed, Park Avenue’s refined floral melange seems to be the perfect context for this cheerful flower. This time, it grows among roses, irises and paperwhite narcissi. Unlike true chamomile growing in nature though, this one is well mannered and behaved, never wildly overwhelming the rest of its more cultivated companions. Each one gets to showcase its wondrous beauty in the best manner. Even the rose refuses to be a diva, admitting that the rest of the flowers in this beautiful bouquet will allow it to shine best. In Park Avenue, it is a feminine mist of early spring, chic and demure, dressed in pastel pink. The paperwhite narcissus in turn, makes everything joyfully vibrant with that juicy, fresh smell only bulb flowers can have, effortlessly imparting that essence of morning dew. The coolness of the iris on the other hand, ensures that both the sweet femininity of the rose and the cheerfulness of the paperwhite are kept in check, lending the fragrance an air of aloofness. But for me, if there was ever any question about it, the star of the fragrance is my beloved chamomile. It manifests itself not with the crisp, herbaceous scent of the blossoms, but instead, with the unmistakable, sweeter, earthier smell of the tea. It is constantly there, exuding a sense of tranquility, ease and comfort and it actually seems to caress the rest of the floral notes, enhancing their beauty. In a way, I feel like it is the chamomile in the blend, which makes them truly sparkle. Perhaps it will sound silly, but I am thankful for getting to see this oft looked over charming flower given place in such a beautiful creation, like a semi-precious stone finally gaining status in the hands of an expert jeweler. And perhaps my reminiscing of blossom picking was quaint... Perhaps chamomile itself is humble. But one would be fooled to think Park Avenue is either. This soft floral bouquet is both sophisticated and elegant, the perfect scent for the worldly woman whose multifaceted charm encompasses all the qualities the notes so eloquently describe.

Images courtesy of: www.caryn.com, www.anjelicasboudoir.com and www.scillyflowers.co.uk

Oud Ambre by Montale : Perfume Review

One whiff and all I can think of is “I must have it. Right now, this instant, I must have it.” Smelling Oud Ambre for the first time at the Montale Boutique in Paris was like a revelation. It was the perfume I’d been looking for, an ideal I’d been chasing like a Chimaera I’d almost given up on. Being presented with this fragrance was like being deeply understood, a feeling that shook me to the core of my being. Smelling it for the first time on my skin, a liberated smile was etched on my face, like the unstoppable grin I’d get as a child when dolphins would race our speedboat across the Mediterranean. There is only one way I can think to describe that feeling: rapturous enthrallment.

Everything I’d hoped for when looking for a truly lethal evening fragrance is here... A seductive trail of spices, animal magnetism, dark mystique, beast-like dominance, luxury, diva-esque glamour and surprisingly perhaps, considering all this, plenty of sophistication. The jus is sharp and assailing, stinging the nose a way I am completely addicted to. Spices, pine needles and beautiful resin flourish on a backdrop of oudh, Yet, the oudh does not constantly creep up, nor is it as pronounced and dryly medicinal as in some other Montale creations. It is very well blended, and the end result is warm, rich and wonderfully piquant. Closing my eyes and inhaling deeply, I feel like I am sitting cross-legged on the paved grounds of a mystical garden. The sun is high, the day hot, and I am beating lashings of honey drizzled over strikingly fragrant oregano, geranium and labdanum in an ancient mortar and pestle, until there is nothing left in my mind but their smell. I feel no tiredness in my arms, not until the sun finally starts to fall and I open my eyes, finally coming-to from my trance-like state. A male caracal cat is defiling the rose garden with its sticky spray, hot with desire. I swoon. Tired, I succumb. I can be a cat too, wearing this...Rose petals in a sticky mess - loudly proclaiming my fertile days, clawing and biting. ...Dare I? Glowing hearts of amber wrapped in fur stoles make their appearance. The garden finally ready, night is truly upon us.



Considering my zealous fascination for devastating, offensive fragrances, Oud Ambre feels intimately personal, as thought it was created on request, only for me. It feels almost magical to have found it, as though I did not really buy it, but instead ventured on a quest, battled countless Nightmares and Nightshades until I got to brave the thorny path leading to the spindly tower of the last living sorceress to ask for one thing: the most potent philter of hellish desire she could concoct. The result is indeed a fiendish potion: a mixture of the putrid with the divinely sweet that leads my heart to experience inexplicable rapture. And as is true of every fairytale involving witchcraft, there is always a catch... only the bravest will be caught in the net spun by this philtre d’amour extrême... But then again, only the bravest would ever do for the ones that are able to employ it successfully.

The very fitting and gorgeous mandala design is courtesy of www.designsbywillow.com

Quick Note

Hi guys! Just a quick note to say that
1 - Jenavira13 won the sample (please send me your contact details) and
2 - there will be a new review tomorrow.

Hugs,

Divina

Palisander by Ava Luxe : Perfume Review

Ina, over at Aromascope made a post some time ago which sparked a discussion on straightforward perfumes. As I stated at the time, I believe that straightforward, linear perfumes can sometimes be a blessing, because you do not have to think too much. Too, sometimes what you are looking for can only be satisfied by a simpler creation, without too much fuss around it. I know I personally have a number of such little loves at least. Although not all of Ava Serena Franco’s fragrances are linear (some are far more complex than I had imagined before trying them), a lot of them satisfy those cravings for a clean, straightforward blend. Her line is fun, the service is amazing and I often find myself visiting her website to order samples as a pick-me-up gift to myself that will invariably bring me a lot of pleasure when it arrives.

I woke up today planning to write a review of Incense Musk, in order to continue the theme of incense I started with Miyako, but when I visited the website I found that it has been discontinued. Not wanting to write another “you can’t have me” teaser, I first considered writing about Passage d’Enfer, but then I realized that in the process I had actually become more interested in writing about an Ava Luxe scent, than about an incense fragrance in general. After perusing my sample collection for a while I decided to settle on Palisander, a delightful autumnal scent, perfect for when the leaves turn copper and the wind starts baring wintry fangs.

Palisander, conversely one of the more complex Ava Luxe fragrances I have sampled, has a strange earthiness when it is first applied on the skin. An earthiness so strong in fact, that it manages to instantly evoke images of subterranean growth, roots of trees and fibers of plants growing deep in dark, rich soil. There are leaves there too, dropped on the forest floor. They have seen countless rains and are now laying there lifeless, wet, decomposing...Becoming one with the earth that bore them. As the oil warms on the skin, the earthy scent disappears, leaving almost no trace behind. It is replaced by a heavy, woody sweetness. When I originally sampled Palisander, six months or so ago, I found the first whiff of its sweetness frightening - I thought I might have to scrub it off immediately. I do sometimes experience an extreme sense of sweetness from some woody fragrances and essential oils and it is something I honestly can’t stomach. Thankfully, I decided to be brave and let it sit on my skin for a while and this was rewarded: I found that this time the sweetness is anything but nauseating. Yes, the initial entrance is rather grand and dramatic, but it quickly becomes obvious that it is not going to be overpowering: despite its headiness, this is a rather sheer sweetness, one that graciously agrees to dance instead of a solo, together with all the other elements of the blend, one after the other. It becomes a constant, which is at first partnered up with a strange, slightly medicinal freshness, a remnant of the erstwhile earthiness. Then later on, with sensuous amber which eradicates any sense of freshness there was still to be found and allows a beautiful, enveloping warmth to bloom on the skin...until finally, it becomes smoky; dark, intense and almost incense like. There is also something else there: after some hours of wear I find Palisander to take on a peculiar animalic quality; the smell of desire heating up a cold room in winter, like a glowing ember.

Images courtesy of: www.galeriabali.pl, www.csun.edu,

Miyako by Annayake: Perfume Review

Back in May, I decided to write a week long feature here on Fragrance Bouquet, reviewing the female fragrances of the Annayake line. Those of you that followed it, might remember that I was at the time unable to get my hands on either Miyako, or Matsuri. I hate to leave things incomplete, so I set out to try and find both, so that I would have a complete picture of the fragrance line. Matsuri, I must admit, was easy to come across after all. I just had not looked hard –or well enough. I decided to not write about it because I was bitterly disappointed by it. As I have mentioned before, I do not always manage to get along with patchouli, especially when it claims center stage, muting everything else for my senses. Matsuri is unfortunately one such perfume: all I could smell and all I could think of was “Patchouli” and a rather flat one at that. L’Inspiratrice, it ain’t.

Miyako, a limited edition perfume, was much harder to find. A couple of months later though, I am happy to say I finally own a bottle. From the wonderful fragrance itself, to the beautiful sliding-doors box that houses it, my latest purchase has already given me much joy already. The very first time I wore it, a friend commented, “Mmm, what is this? Is it something Asian?” The remark obviously made me chuckle, for indeed, even if it wasn’t exactly a description of “...the fragrant air of the court of the Golden Pavilion, mythical temple in the Land of the Rising Sun...” (quote, Miyako box), Miyako had nevertheless managed to be instantaneously recognizable as a fragrance inspired by the Far East.

The sweetness of Miyako is rather curious, reminding me of the subtly sweet and oh-so-comforting warm air one finds in a house, after a full day of baking spiced goods made of lovingly kneaded dough. Its opening briefly tickles my nose with an ephemeral pepperiness that quickly subsides, giving way to the pungency of a prominent cardamom rubbed on cinnamon bark. There is something about the early stages of Miyako that I find intensely familiar, yet putting my finger on the fleeting memory that it rouses proved quite difficult – perhaps because I expected all my associations with the fragrance to be of an Oriental nature. Finally, it came to me, a couple of days ago: it is the mingling of frankincense and myrrh, combined with the smell of polished, waxed wood one encounters when finding refuge in the cool, lonely interior of a Greek Orthodox church during summertime. The smell of pine I get at this stage, also conspires to bring this memory forward, since it is not unusual for a church to be surrounded by pine (or other coniferous trees), and the resinous, fresh smell wafts generously inside through the open windows. I was perplexed to smell pine in Miyako – not only is it not listed as a note, but it seemed to me incongruous with a fragrance meant to allude to Japanese temples and Kodo, the Japanese incense ceremony. But after researching Kodo a bit further, I found that pine incense is indeed commonly used for the ceremony, so my nose must not have been playing tricks on me after all. While on the subject of listed notes, I must admit that despite the fact that several floral notes are listed as part of the composition, they remain virtually undetected by my nose. Rose is a possible exception: it suddenly blooms when the scent warms well on the skin. Even so, I doubt I would have identified it had I not been looking for it. But I do not lament the lack of a prominent floral bouquet, quite the contrary. Instead, I much prefer what I do find in the blend: there is the refined, dry, coniferous smell of cedar, the patchouli, which in this instance manages to be sparkling, the voluptuous, powdery sandalwood. And all of this is gently enveloped in the golden embrace of musk and amber, whose warmth and sense of comfort I cannot possibly begin to describe. This positively glowing coziness, my perception of a certain milky accord (which I love) and the somewhat powdery drydown, make me identify Miyako as one of most tender, restorative and comforting fragrances I own. I know it can be quite annoying to read a review of something that is hard to find and sniff for yourself, and since this limited edition fragrance is a little difficult to find (unless you wish to order a full bottle off ebay, of course), I wish to share some with you. If you post a comment on this review, I will automatically enter you in a drawing for a sample of Miyako, unless you explicitly state that you do not want to be entered, but just wished to comment. I will announce the winner on Monday evening.

Images:
Print: www.eso-garden.com
Senso Temple: incense burner. [Photograph]. Retrieved July 18, 2007, from Encyclopædia Britannica Online: http://www.britannica.com/ebc/art-642
Kodo Set: www.japan-zone.com

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

A Coconut Lover’s Summer

I have been on a coconut bender for a while now. Even though I adore coconut, I never get the urge to actually smell of it during the colder months of the year. My love for it remains dormant all through winter, forgetting all about it. Come summertime though, my desire for its summery scent is instantly rekindled and I once again begin craving it, finding myself looking for the perfect coconut fragrance with which to scent my body with. I must admit, I have not found The One yet. Embarrassingly, my ideal coconut scent would smell like.... Hawaiian Tropic Dark Tanning Oil. There, I said it. I can’t help it; I have been lusting after its concentrated pungency for years! No, it would not be a refined smell, nor one I associate with elegance. But then again I simply cannot associate coconut with high perfumery anyway. To be frank, I am even loath to use the word ‘fragrance’ or ‘perfume’ in the same sentence as coconut. But there you have it: It is summertime again and as I am getting ready for my vacation in August, I am stocking up on all those favorite blends with which I can make myself smell coconut-fabulous once more. All to the chagrin of my boyfriend I might add, Coconut-Hater Extraordinaire. So far, I have settled on three very different renditions of this tropical seed to take with me on holiday, making my suitcase completely summer-ready.

Azurée Soleil by Estée Lauder: This is undoubtedly my favorite of the three suitcase essentials I am taking with me this summer. A true coconut-lover’s dream, Azurée Soleil is much more complex than any other coconut scent I have tried. It is, a tropical fantasy bottled. It starts out quite fruity, with what I perceive as ripe peach. The ripeness of fruit blends beautifully with heady white florals, but while the overall impression is sweet, it manages to abstain from being syrupy or overwhelming. Instead, once again despite the sweetness, one gets the sense of a salty breeze, carrying with it the aromas of a tropical coast. Needless to say, coconut is an ever-present, prominent figure in Azurée Soleil, but not one full of supercilious, impertinent conceit that would overshadow everything else with its presence. No, despite its strong character and the central position it has been awarded in this blend, it still gallantly allows the rest of the notes to shine and charm the wearer with their own distinctiveness. Perhaps most importantly for me, there is the merest hint of something slightly animalic hidden in the depths of this blend. It is this quality that truly seduces me. Lastly, before I get carried away with what I intended to be a tiny review, I have to say that I prefer the Body Oil Spray to the atomizer. I find that is has more tenacity as well as being more sensual.

Vanille Coco by Comtoir Sud Pacifique: Vanille Coco was an impulse buy, but not one I regret. I really surprised myself with this one I have to admit, because I usually have to smell something over and over again (if I have the luxury to of course) before I buy it. One sniff was enough though, to make me rush over to the register with a big smile on my face. I wanted it. I had to have it. Why? Because it is the closest thing I have ever smelled to that elusive Hawaiian Tropic smell. Vanille Coco positively screams “Sun, Sun, Sun!” and hot, island-air on the skin. It makes me feel like I am lying on a beach, completely covered in suntan oil. (which is a good thing, because I unfortunately no longer partake in the actual, extremely pleasurable activity of sun-tanning with oil or without...It is now SPF 50+ for me and always under a huge umbrella. Who wants wrinkles?) The intense suntan-oil scent lasts for hours, I am very happy to report. But even after some hours of wear, after what initially drew me to Vanille Coco fades, I am still a happy customer. What is left, is a foody, scrumptuous smell that makes me feel positively edible. Like Amour Cacao, I find the drydown of Vanille Coco to be very reminiscent of delicious baked goods. This time around it is a crunchy vanilla cookie with chewy, grated coconut. Or perhaps a yummy coconut macaroon. Mmmmm...

Coconut Dry Oil Mist by The Body Shop: Not truly a fragrance, Coconut Dry Oil Mist from The Body Shop is still an old favorite that I simply can’t leave out. The texture itself is wonderful: It glides on the skin with slippery silkiness and leaves it soft, moisturized and shining with a beautiful soft sheen to boot. The coconut scent is not as concentrated and strong as I would have liked it to be, but subtler and perhaps a little murky. It does lightly scent the whole body though and the staying power is great, unlike other body-mists that become imperceptible ten minutes after application. Also, the fact that it is subtle, allows me to wear it all over the body – something I could never do with Azurée Soleil which would be too strong for this purpose. To this extent, it covers the body with its soft coconut scented film and makes every inch of my skin appear polished and well groomed. I also love layering it with tiny sprays of other Body Shop scents. For this purpose I use the ones specifically created as a palette to mix and match together and use up to two, over the body oil. The ones I prefer are: Citrella, Aztique, Amorito, Minteva and Beleaf. Unfortunately, from those mentioned, only Aztique and Amorito are still in production. The other three have been discontinued.

Having expressed my love for coconut I also have to add that personally, I do not really view coconut scents as appropriate for city-wear. (with the possible exception of extremely casual occasions in hot weather, but even then, I excercise caution.) They are not the height of chic, no matter which way you look at it. They are on the other hand, perfectly suited to an island getaway. My own island-getaway? I finally managed to find tickets for the island I chose to visit this year just yesterday, after a long wait. Now I am counting the days till August, discreetly smelling of coconut already. While in the house, natch.

Images courtesy of: www.deliciousorganics.com, http://fashiontribes.typepad.com and http://ile-tropicale.com

L’Autre – Diptyque : Perfume Review

In 1973, Diptyque launched their second fragrance, aptly named L’Autre (“The Other”). Fiercely unique, this brave scent has me constantly sniffing my wrist for the first half an hour after its application. Before it finally calms down, its character is extremely volatile, taking me through various “blink-and-you-missed-it” stages. I am aware L’Autre doesn’t have many fans out there, which does not come as a surprise to me, considering it's challenging, difficult composition. Yet, I decided to write about it today, not only because I find it intriguing, but also because perhaps, this small review will prompt more people to try it and experiment with it.

L’Autre’s opening is to me, stunningly evocative of an old apothecary. My first thoughts every single time I smell it, tend to invariably be something along the lines of “Oh My Goodness!” as I am hit in the face by the strong medicinal, herbal, blend which is intensified by alcohol. Unfailingly surprised each time by the punch it delivers, I can’t help but find my senses alert, watchful and almost wary of what is to come. As the initial alcohol burst dissipates, a provocative mix of near-eastern spices begins to emerge. Sun-drenched spice markets come into view, their bulging woven baskets baking in the sun which serves to make the contents ever more fragrant. The hot air is dry and there is sand in my ears, mouth and nose – the dusty qualities of cardamom. The draft carries with it the unprecedented fullness of cumin and caraway and I follow their scent as if called by an invisible piper – or perhaps it is just the convincing calls of the merchants ringing in my ears. Provocative and realistic, the smells of the market have seduced me. My mind is filled with colors: Ochre, brick red, taupe and blue accented with gold...and suddenly....bright green? The market disappears abruptly, rather than fading from view. Cool breeze on my skin, it is springtime and I am at my paternal home, paradoxically a child again. The kitchen door is open and I pick a couple of lemon leaves from the tree in our garden. Curious, I stub my little nails in the leaf and the most beautiful aroma rises. I scratch the leaves more intently now, filling the air with the stimulating, fresh fragrance of the lemon oil. I almost don’t hear my mother calling to me, completely carried away by this fabulous lemony goodness. Back inside, I find mother cooking, juicing lemons and chopping coriander, which has filled the kitchen with its slightly astringent smell. How beautiful is springtime, I think to myself, surrounded by the energizing, zingy aromas. As soon as I complete this thought the picture disappears, the spell broken. I shake my head in surprise, emerging from my dreamworld as if by a rude interruption. Stillness, as I struggle to come to terms with the fact that L'Autre's previously unabashed trail seems to be all but faded when compared to its original strength. Giving my senses some time to adjust I begin to become aware once more of its lingering qualities. The moderate sillage is now all but gone and my travels were fleeting. But when I smell close, I find the softest, kindest patchouli. I am extremely surprised to find it, I have to admit. I would normally detect its heady scent instantly, but with L'Autre, it only makes an appearance at the final stages. I find it to be mixed with the shyest of pine and traces of spice. There is an undeniable animalic appeal to this drydown stage, something that makes my heart quicken. I cannot decide whether I’d wish for it to have more strength or if I am indeed content that it has become a skin-scent one can only detect during intimate encounters. All I know is that I like it – it moves me. Despite it being officially a unisex fragrance, I see this as being more suited to men. To me L’Autre smells deeply masculine and I believe it has more to offer to men than women. For a woman, L’Autre will be an experience, a mood-scent. For a man it positively becomes a weapon in his arsenal when it comes to seduction: Unquestionably, yet almost inexplicably sexy.

Images courtesy of www.mekuno.net, http://chowtimes.com and www.exodus.co.uk