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

L'Eau Trois by Diptyque : Perfume Review

Words could never describe how I feel about this perfume, but I will give it a try even though I’ll probably do my heart that beats to its rhythm injustice. L’Eau Trois must be one of the most unique fragrances I have ever had the joy of experiencing. I am a great lover of chypres and even though this is not traditionally identified as one, to my nose and heart it feels and behaves like one. But that does not even come into play in my mind when I think of all the reasons why I love it so. Diptyque aimed to capture the “scent of the mountainous coastline of Northern Greece” and having grown up just there I feel justified in saying that I know for a fact, they have done an outstanding job. The name too fits with Greece, even though that was most likely not the intention of the makers. Presumably they named it L’Eau Trois because it was their third perfume in the line, but orthodoxy being so tightly embedded in the way of life of the Greeks, I cannot help but think of the meaning of “three” and the role of the holy trinity in Greek daily life.

I moved away from my home country at the age of 18 and even though it is a decision I do not regret, I can’t help but feel a deep longing for it from time to time. Sensory input, in the form of sights, sounds and smells often creates the unsettling feeling of pained longing and nostalgia in my heart. I know this scent so very well... It is the scent that wafts from the hillsides and valleys in the summer as the sun bakes the herbal vegetation and shrubbery mercilessly. This is not the scent of spring or winter. This scent does not come through in shade or moisture. This is the marriage of the burning sun and the blessed herbs that withstand it. Oregano is the most prominent of those herbs, its herbal and somewhat sour character perfectly blended with thyme, myrtle, rosemary and pine. And this is all it is; I just don’t know how they captured the sun. The lasting power is excellent on my skin and I get moderate sillage out of it. I become irrationally possessive at times with this perfume, as though noone else could discover its meaning. It makes me bite my lip with shame. And then I smile, because I know I am wrong: there is a reason why it is still in production in spite (or perhaps because) of its difficult and unique character: Others have walked the same paths. Perhaps they even drove in a car with the window open just as I have, on the same roads. In the same sweltering heat, squinting their eyes because of the same glaring sun. Engulfed by the same aromatic and herbal smells. Unable to keep the smile off their face because of the prospect of the beach and crystal clear azure water that awaits them. I am not alone.

Both pictures are from Chalkidiki in Northern Greece. (alt. sp.: Halkidiki) Sources: www.travel-to-halkidiki.com and www.larioriders.it