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.

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

The story of Scherrer is bittersweet and slightly flat: There are no moving meridians, no climax to the private drama of the once well-known couturier and no catharsis at the end of the story. Born in the 1930s, Jean-Louis Scherrer studied ballet and fashion in Paris and later went on to train under Christian Dior at the house of Dior, as well as Yves Saint Laurent when Dior died and the former was appointed director. In the beginning of the ‘60s, Scherrer founded his own label, originally located at the rue du Faubourg Saint-Honoré, and later at avenue Montaigne, where it can still be found today. One of the beauties of writing the Forget me Not feature pieces is remembering the signature creations and innovations that made the couturiers behind the perfumes famous. Scherrer himself however, has left no such legacies. Indeed, he was better known for reinterpreting trends, reforming them with a more conservative touch that would still allow for femininity and a certain sex-appeal. It was this skill that made Scherrer once rich and famous, as first ladies, queens and the crème de la crème of high society would flock to the house to be dressed in the latest fashions while still avoiding the vulgarity of any eyebrow-raising. Modesty, thus, as well as on-trend status brandishing that would never fail to remind admirers that the wearer was in possession of serious money, were the hallmarks of this brand. The late ‘80s and early ‘90s found the house in economic decline and tragically, Scherrer was fired from the house he had once founded. The troubled designer fought back in court, but only managed to receive a settlement, but no further use of his name. Two decades later, the house seems to have bounced back, with Haute Couture growing and reporting a great percentage of young clientele.

In 1979, Jean-Louis Scherrer launched his first, signature fragrance. According to the official website, Scherrer “hoped that it would be a perfume of quality and tradition” and he is cited describing it as “The passion of the moment. The eternal feminine.” To me, this perfume certainly has something of the eternal. It was the first chypre I loved, at an age when I didn’t know what a chypre was. Formative then, for it started a long love-affair with everything green, austere, feminine but at once forceful. A love affair that started at an age before I even started attending school and is still going strong. Forever connected to a particular person, Scherrer 1 will be my first perfume love, whose name I only learned years later, while never having forgotten its smell.

I was a little girl, and Scherrer was the signature perfume of my dear aunt. Always spending weekends at her house so I’d be playing with my cousin, I’d find myself quietly marveling at the ultra-sophisticated scent following the footsteps of the petite woman with the sparkling blue eyes and the bobbed hair, falling around her face in soft curls. She seemed so exotic to me; having grown up in Austria her perfect Greek had (and still does have) the most beautiful singing lilt and cheerful intonation of a running stream. Unlike most of the women I knew, she had the power to be both loving, nurturing and strict at once. You could not mess with her! And when she laughed, the clouds would part from the sun, a beautiful laugh so infectious and gorgeous it would lend sparkle and light to everything it reverberated from. And isn’t that just the most perfect description of a chypre? Something that is strict and forceful, as well as loving and warm? Something that has the power to lift your spirits to a heavenly place? Something whose hug means so much more, because it is never thoughtless but always meaningful?

I never learned the name of the beautiful perfume, up until two years ago. While out perfume sniffing with my mom, I handed her another chypre in surprise: “Oh my God… This takes me back… It smells exactly like Soula used to when I was little. I love it!” After sniffing the blotter, she looked at me stunned. “You’re right. How can you remember that? She wore it forever… but doesn’t any more. I’ll have to remember what it was called. She probably still has a bottle, you know. She keeps everything.” My mom did remember - it was Scherrer, a name I’d never heard of before. And aunt Soula did indeed have a bottle still. In fact, she had two, smelling as fresh as day, even though they were both half-empty. Determined, I decided to seek it out on my trip to Paris.

We already knew what was happening with oakmoss in 2007, so walking into the Scherrer boutique I felt apprehension, a terrible fear that my original chypre love would have been changed beyond recognition. The boutique was quiet and dark and rather sombre with its black granite and mirrored walls, a stark difference after the buzzing, bright, cheerful house of Dior on the other side of the street. I bypassed a lady fitting a dress and joined a member of the staff by an oval table. On it, all the Scherrer perfumes, together with a fresh bottle of the signature. A sigh of relief - it was still the same. Sweet perfume cloud, full of memories of a creature that wore it well. Better than anyone else could.
(To be continued…)

Images: Early days of the fashion house: Scherrer with his models – www.jeanlouisscherrer.fr
Claudia Schiffer from a Scherrer fashion show - www.anitahopkinsla.com
A picture of Scherrer at one of his shows, the year he was fired – www.grioo.com
The Scherrer boutique on avenue Montaigne

Forget me Not: L’Aimant by Coty

Those that remember L’Aimant do so fondly, for it is a perfume lovingly adopted and worn by generations upon generations of women. For many women, this is the scent they remember their mothers and grandmothers having worn. For just as many women, this is the scent they adopted as their own when buying a perfume for themselves for the first time. L’Aimant is a play on words, meaning both “Loving Her”, as well as “The Magnet”, cleverly insinuating of course that this is a scent that exerts such magnetic powers of attraction that others will helplessly fall in love with the wearer. Created by nose Vincent Roubert in collaboration with François Coty, L’Aimant was launched by Coty in 1927, becoming an instant success. According to Perfume Projects, the wife of Jacques Guerlain allegedly even preferred L’Aimant to her husband’s own creations. After many decades of success, the scent was at some point discontinued, only to be re-released again in 1995.

My own bottle, bought for a mere 5 euro at one of the perfume fairs here in the Netherlands is a vintage atomiseur de luxe in Parfum de Toilette concentration, whose rare and peculiar presentation had me looking for days on end to date it. Finally, with a little luck I discovered that the particular presentation dates from the early to mid-1970’s. I have not smelled the re-edition, so unfortunately, I cannot draw a comparison between this vintage and the modern juice sold today. However I am glad to say that perhaps due to the opaque casing of this vintage flacon, the juice has had no evaporation and it smells as fresh as if it was bought yesterday, not having gone off in the slightest!

L’Aimant is an extremely aldehydic floral creation with soft, woody undertones. Due to the heavy use of aldehydes, the opening can be a little jarring and perturbing – we are no longer used to such heavily aldehydic perfumes nowadays after all. Highly perfume-y and ever so slightly medicinal, the opening comes across much like light coming through frosted glass: Diffused, soft and intangible. The first impression can seem a little stuffy and old, to the point that I’d not hesitate to say that this is a fragrance that will undoubtedly seem to many as belonging to an older generation. To be honest, even I can’t help but find myself helplessly associating the opening with the word ‘grandmother-ish’. Even though I am usually against putting such labels on perfume, it is something that happens so automatically with L’Aimant, I just can’t help myself. It does, without the shadow of the doubt, smell truly vintage, and I have no trouble defining it as a perfume of another era. Soon, the slightly medicinal, stuffy note dissipates, and an amazing smooth sweetness perfumes the skin. This is where I really begin appreciating L’Aimant’s beauty. Smelling incredibly close in feel to vintage Arpege and Le Dix, the scent becomes very, very creamy and buttery soft. Plummy, apricot fruitiness sparkles ever so gently and delightfully on the skin over a bed of tame florals. As time goes by, the scent becomes ever more powdery and floral: A powdery infusion of strong violets with nectarous yet soft, shy accents of tantalizing jasmine. The drydown is soft and sexy, a skin scent of sandalwood and gentle vanilla. Even though I really love the creamy, fruity heartnotes as well, what really makes L'Aimant incredible to me is this magnificent drydown, so soft, so transparent, such that allows the beauty of one's own skin-scent to show through. Comforting and sexy...

As always when reviewing a vintage perfume I can offer, I’ll be very glad to send a large 3ml spray sample to a reader! Everyone that comments on this post will be automatically entered in a draw for a sample of Coty’s vintage L’Aimant in Parfum de Toilette concentration. The winner will be announced in a week’s time.

Images: www.okadi.com

Forget me Not: Cardin de Pierre Cardin

The “Man Who Became a Label”, the “Man Who Sold His Name”, fascinates me, always has. It might not have been Cardin who realized that women who cannot afford couture clothes will buy into the dream of a fashion house’s name by using its make-up products, however it was Cardin who realized that the notion was applicable to just about everything else. He is the man who brought couture into every day life – into the home, the street, even into the pantry. Other fashion houses followed: Versace tea service, anyone? Or perhaps a pillow or throw from Armani Casa? He was the man who took the fall, being expelled from the Chambre Syndicale for bringing Prêt-a-Porter fashion to the masses, but was soon reinstated and Ready to Wear clothes slowly became acceptable. As we know, other fashion houses followed: today we take Prêt-a-Porter for granted, without giving it a second thought. Today the Cardin name is still more important than the man himself, as he himself once stated. Have his daring entrepreneurial skills left a smear on his name? Perhaps. Perhaps Cardin took the fall for all the rest. Just so we can have a Prada LG mobile phone, or perhaps a Dolce & Gabbana Motorola. This irony seems to be completely lost on fashion snobs who still insist that the house sold out years ago, even as every other house is making money out of this man’s daring and vision. When will the fashion world take a bow?

...Merci, Monsieur Cardin. Merci.



The homonymous Cardin perfume launched in 1976 and was the house’s first feminine scent. Even though it is not my favorite Cardin perfume, I decided to feature it in this month’s Forget me Not, because it is indeed, almost, if not altogether forgotten: It is listed in neither the Basenotes database, nor in Osmoz, and I fear it might soon be completely lost in Lethe. (Note: I am reviewing the much rarer parfum concentration, which I own, and as such cannot speak of the more common EdT splash and spray bottles that can still be found at online perfume discounters.) Cardin’s citrusy top notes are ever so slightly damaged by time but this does not result in drama: a fleeting moment of mildly bruised freshness and then it’s all a distant memory. Immediately after the deceptively mild opening, we plunge into a world of dense, raw and sultry essences, which although expertly blended, tend to deliver quite a blow to the nose that is more used to today’s modern, airier, transparent fragrances. Middle and base notes seem to arrive concurrently, building a web of interlaced aromas of erotic blossoms and thick, prodding, musky, mossy nuances. Beautiful roses, manage to remain defiantly tender, even as the unmistakable, sweet darkness of pure ylang-ylang embraces them, along with highly indolic jasmine. If this already sounds overwhelmingly delirious, I dare you to imagine that all the while, our floral notes are also being drenched by the most audacious civet and musk notes. Do you get the picture? Yes, this stuff is intense. An hour or so later, Cardin’s fervor relents. Our bouquet starts breathing more deeply, revealing a beautiful, earthy oakmoss and labdanum base and manages to present a profile that is at once soapy clean and dirty with musk and civet at once. The scent becomes progressively smoother and creamier, bringing to mind Ivoire’s drydown, only better blended, with a slightly more muted oakmoss note which does not demand all of one’s attention. If I had to sum Cardin into one word, it would be perfume-y, just as you’d imagine a vintage aldehydic mossy floral to be. Although it is beautiful, I have to admit it smells quite dated, as well as strangely familiar. Despite the copious amounts of civet and musk in its composition, it doesn’t manage to be quite sexy. It is however, totally worth sniffing for sentimental reasons, for this paints a very accurate picture of many perfumes of its time, as well as for getting a blast of its furious animalic tendencies.

All readers who leave a comment to this entry are automatically entered in a draw for a sample of Cardin Parfum. The draw will be open for a week’s time and winners will be announced next Monday.

Images: www.encyclopedia.com and Author’s Own

Forget me Not: Balenciaga’s Treasures – Le Dix, Quadrille et La Fuite des Heures

For Basque-Spanish designer Cristóbal Balenciaga success came easily, if not effortlessly. Having spent countless hours of his early childhood by his mother’s side while she was working as a seamstress, Balenciaga went on to study tailoring formally in his teenage years. His designs instantly became highly sought after and he managed to open his first couture workshop, named Eisa after his mother, in San Sebastián at the young age of 16. When he was just 20 years old, he branched out, opening his first boutiques in Madrid and Barcelona, naming them simply “Balenciaga”. Highly successful, his designs became popular not only with the crème de la crème of Spanish aristocracy, but even with the members of the Spanish royal family itself. The civil war forced the Spanish master to close his boutiques and move to Paris, but nothing could quite stop the trajectory of this rising star. In 1937 Balenciaga opened his Parisian showroom at number 10 of Avenue George V. He quickly became a household name, but his fame truly rose to a resounding crescendo in the ‘50s and ‘60s. He is remembered for his work with sleeves, necklines, hems and rising or dropping waistlines, which all conspired to showcase different parts of a woman’s body to their best advantage. Most importantly though, he is remembered for his fascinating innovations: Balenciaga revolutionized the shape of women’s apparel like no other. Cocoon coats, boxy jackets, wide collars, sack dresses, balloon skirts and jackets, tunics, and baby-doll dresses all owe their place in fashion history due to this great man. Balenciaga retired in 1968, closing down his salon. Today the house has seen a revival in the hands of PPR, with head designer Nicolas Ghesquière at the helm. While Ghesquière’s designs have often seemed slightly too ‘out there’ for me when it comes to accessories like shoes, I simply cannot imagine a better choice for the house which carries this esteemed name into the future: Ghesquière admirably continues Balenciaga’s tradition in highly sculptural and architectural designs, picking up exactly where the great master himself left off. Under his creative influence, the house of Balenciaga keeps producing revolutionary designs that shape not only the face of fashion today, but also the shape of a woman’s body, once again. Like a phoenix, the house has been reincarnated, its wings gleaming with the same fire, showing us new colors, new shapes, new shades through the burning flames of success.

Today on Forget me Not we take a look at three forgotten vintage extraits by this house:




· Le Dix: Named after the address of Balenciaga’s Parisian showroom, Le Dix (No. 10) is a magnificent ambery floral. The top notes are unfortunately destroyed as often happens with vintage fragrances that feature citrus fruits, but the unpleasantness lasts no more than a few minutes. Soon Le Dix starts flying off the skin in song, glowing and beautiful. Musky lilac and caramelized violets are caressed by iris. The scent is gently sweet, with hints of restrained bitterness. The drydown is a glowing ember in the fluid darkness of balsamic resins and amber, hugged by beautiful sandalwood and sweet animalic musk. I wouldn’t hesitate to call the modern edt utterly destroyed, if the vintage extrait is anything to go by. It is light and ethereal, yes, but it lacks body and substance. Powdery and soft, it does not do much to move the heart and intrigue the senses. If I am being honest, I will say that yes, there are days that I feel like reaching for its light caress, but it simply cannot compare to the richness and darkness of the original. Surprisingly perhaps, the currently available edt smells old, dated and dusty while the vintage still shines and captivates with a beauty that is simply timeless.

· La Fuite des Heures: Another round of painfully destroyed top notes. Five minutes later and I simply cannot believe that the beauty presented to my nose has emerged through the nauseating devastation that was there moments ago. The experience starts with the sweet, milky greenness of freshly cut grass and continues to warmly bloom into a dizzyingly heady jasmine with sour, herbal notes of thyme. I find myself swoon as the heavy sweetness of jasmine overtakes me, making my head spin: I go from fantasizing over a 50’s cocktail party in the heart of summer to looking for a fainting couch that will cushion my fall. And then, suddenly, beauty again. The refuge of oakmoss covered bark amidst the thinning shower of flower petals. Deep green moss, creamy soap and the golden aura of sun-dried hay, making me dream once again of dresses that leave the shoulders bare. A gorgeous chypre.

· Quadrille: Quadrille is the only one of the three that appears to not have its top notes degraded over time; It is beautiful from start to finish. It is also the one that seems to veer off into more traditionally masculine territories. An incredibly warming fragrance, it reminds me of viscous red mulled wine. Intensely spicy, herbal and deep, Quadrille successfully combines elements that seem at once modern and vintage. In fact, I could very well see Quadrille being a successful masculine fragrance in the niche market today. It is a perfume deeply attractive to me, due to its generous use of clove, which I adore. Drenched in thick plummy juices, the spiciness becomes mellow and dark, awakening a persistent urge to press my nose against my skin so that I can explore its rich, violet-colored nuances further and further. Comforting and sensual at once, the astoundingly beautiful Quadrille makes me think of calmness and maturity of spirit. It would be very hard for me to decide on a favorite between the three Balenciaga perfumes presented here today as I find them all wonderful: Le Dix seduces me with its true animalic, ambery drydown, La Fuite des Heures intrigues me with its demanding old-chypre character, but in the end, if I am honest, it is Quadrille which truly wins my heart with its darkness, so abundantly decorated with incandescent rubies and amethyst.

Leaving a comment on this post means you will be automatically placed in a random draw for a sample of vintage Le Dix extrait and a sample of modern Le Dix edt. The winner will be announced on Monday afternoon and all entries until Monday morning will be valid.

Images: www.wikipedia.org & Author's Own

Forget me Not: Nina (Original) by Nina Ricci

Maria ‘Nina’ Nielli was born to an Italian family from Turin. The family relocated to France in 1895 when Nina was just 12 and by the age of 13, the young girl was already an apprentice to a dressmaker. Her considerable talent did not go unnoticed: by 18 she was already the head of the salon and at 22 she became its chief designer. Her marriage to jeweler Luigi Ricci bore an only son, Robert Ricci (pictured left, with mother Nina), with whom she shared an exceptional bond. Despite her great talent and capabilities, it wasn’t until 1932 that Madame Ricci started her own couture house at the age of 50, with Robert’s encouragement. With Robert, a keen businessman, as director and Nina as designer, the newly found House of Ricci saw immediate success, growing rapidly year after year throughout the ‘30s. This success however, was never due to groundbreaking designs that shook the foundations of the fashion world; the appeal of Ricci’s designs was never due to notoriety. Rather, the house became as successful as it did because it expertly catered to the needs of elegant women, often of a certain age and - one likes to muse - possibly possessing cracking figures at the same time, considering Ricci’s creations during the height of her carrier were rather body conscious. Nina’s primary goal was never to impress the fashion world, but rather, to make each individual client fall in love with the dress they were buying. The attention to detail, the supreme elegance, the excellent cut and structure of the garments as well as the fact that they brought magic and romance back into the lives of the women that wore them, meant profound success for the House of Ricci. Even after Nina Ricci’s retirement in the 50’s, and even after her death in 1970, the style she established was kept alive by Robert’s wise choices of designers that matched the house’s vision. Sadly, after Robert’s own death in 1988, and especially after the house’s acquisition by Puig, things have not been as stable, but thankfully, the future is looking much brighter after the very successful collections of the last few years - especially now, with Theyskens at the helm. One thing’s for sure, the direction of the house has certainly changed towards a younger audience and unfortunately, this is also reflected on the perfumes. There is however a redeeming trait - both in the collections and the perfumes themselves we can trace a constant throughout the years: romance. And keeping at least one constant alive is essential to brand recognition and customer loyalty. When reaching for a Ricci fragrance, a taste of romance is inevitable.

But let’s go back to Robert, the loving, visionary son, the cunning businessman, the creative idealist. He not only was responsible for convincing Nina to finally starting her own couture house, but being passionate about fragrances himself, he was also responsible for starting Nina Ricci’s first subdivision by venturing into the world of perfumery. Coeur Joie, the first fragrance by the house, comes in what has to be the most beautiful bottle in the world. L’Air du Temps, the third fragrance is one of the most well known perfumes in the world. But today’s post has nothing to do with either of these exceptional perfumes. Today we take a look at one of the most beautiful fragrances the House of Ricci has ever produced, yet somehow let go. The fragrance in question is the astounding Nina, created by Robert Ricci in 1987 as homage to his beloved mother. Different sources attribute a different nose behind Nina: others cite Christian Vacchiano as the nose and others Francis Fabron. I personally tend to lean towards Francis Fabron (L’Air du Temps, Capricci, Baghari, L’Interdit, Le Dix) as the correct answer to this dilemma, because his other perfumes –especially L’Air du Temps- match Nina’s sensibilities so well. The aldehydes, the almost fragile femininity, the softness... to my senses, almost all of them bear his signature, which I also perceive in Nina. Smelling L’Air du Temps and Nina together, it feels like they are part of the same story, with Nina picking up where L’Air du Temps had left off. Nina’s aldehydic opening is so astoundingly beautiful that it begs you to come closer and breathe in deeply even as it is applied. Beautifully aromatic peach, surprisingly without a single trace of sweetness gives the opening a fruity flavor, while the effervescent fizz of the aldehydes is studded with citrusy gems that sparkle as bright as diamonds. The combination of tagetes and bay leaf, give the composition an herbal twist and a spicy bite. The floral heart of the fragrance is blended into seamless perfection, bringing to mind images of vibrant femininity instead of lush gardens. The longer Nina stays on the skin, the more it bursts with greenness, as though the goddess of spring herself is rejoicing in her beauty. Nina’s drydown is an apotheosis of oakmoss and civet, glorious and unforgettable.

This is an utterly romantic and feminine fragrance of unsurpassed elegance. Its bottle that has always grabbed my attention, is a truly beautiful work of art, which still has me wondering about its meaning. Perhaps I am biased, for I have loved this fragrance since childhood, but to me, the scent of Nina is extraordinarily addictive. It is a scent that speaks of gladsomeness, but also of fragility. It is romantic and feminine, but at the same time betrays a strong will. The generous doses of oakmoss mean that Nina too, like many gloriously green fragrances, has a certain aloofness. Commitment, loyalty, femininity, romance, sophistication are all words that describe Nina, but the one I always invariably return to for its true definition, is elegance. This classic has now been discontinued, and is getting increasingly hard to find. Its place is taken by the tooth-achingly sweet and as far removed from the original as possible, new Nina. Not many people remember the original, a fact that truly pains me. Today’s Forget me Not has a very special place in my heart. I’ll never forget Nina.

Lastly, this fragrance is both hard to find and I own it, so you know what this means, right? Yep, this combo always qualifies for a draw here on Fragrance Bouquet. When you post a comment you’ll be automatically entered in a draw for a sample of this. The winner will be announced in a week’s time.

To see most of the fragrances ever released by the house of Ricci, visit the official website, choose english, and click on perfume and lastly fragrances throughout the years. And of course, don’t forget to visit For the Love of Perfume to find out which classic Tamara chose to review for this month’s feature!

Images: www.toutenparfum.com, www.ninaricci.fr, author's own

Forget me Not : Chloé (Original) by Chloé

It would be hard to imagine fashion in today’s world without prêt-a-porter. Up until the 50’s however, luxury ready-to-wear fashion was unheard of. When it comes to the question of who popularized high fashion as we know it, most remember Yves Saint Laurent who was indeed the first couturier to open a ready-to-wear boutique, Rive Gauche in 1966. Some will even remember that Givenchy and the visionary Pierre Cardin both launched their own pret-a-porter lines in the late 1950s - in a period when launching a ready-to-wear line as a couturier was considered such a taboo, that Cardin actually ended up being expelled from the Chambre Syndicale de Haute Couture for a short while before being reinstated. It was however, quite a few years earlier, in 1952 that the wind of change actually blew, when two true innovators, Jacques Lenoir and Gaby Aghion, launched the first luxury prêt-a-porter fashion house – Chloé. High fashion suddenly became more affordable, appealing to a larger audience, and it is beyond the shadow of a doubt that it was their footsteps that both Givenchy and Pierre Cardin were following shortly after.

Pastels and muted colors, eyelet and lace details, chiffon and musselin fabrics, gauzy and transparent styles have all been staples in Chloé’s fluid clothing ever since the house was first established. Throughout the years, two words define Chloé best: femininity and romance. To that extent, I simply can’t imagine a better candidate to carry the name of the house on its bottle than the original Chloé, launched in 1975. This beautiful spring fragrance is carefree and innocent, despite the indolic character of some of the notes. It is a scent built around a young, uncompromising beauty: a wonderful rendition of tuberose which manages to be at once green and at the same time creamy throughout the development. The top notes are sparkling and green with the barest, tiniest hint of coconut, which miraculously manages to not make its presence loudly known, but rather adds to the overall feel of the fragrance. By this I mean that even though the note is not instantly recognizable unless you purposely sniff close looking for it, it adds weight to the top notes and gives a slightly sticky sensation. It sounds bizarre, but I feel it even enhances the greenness of the scent. This opening is all girl, utterly youthful and slightly naive. The warmth of the skin slowly brings the heart notes to the fore though, and suddenly youthful naiveté is transformed into the joys of womanhood. The tuberose is unapologetic and strong – its scent deep and lifelike. Indolic notes of orange blossom and jasmine invite others to come closer, in the most seductive manner. Civet lances through the composition in a way that makes the heart skip a beat - an unmistakable invitation to explore one’s sexuality. The drydown is musky and deep, beguiling and ultra-feminine. The whole composition is indeed a sigh of pleasure, an open invitation to enjoy spring: sunny, erotic, flowery, green, feminine... It’s all Chloé.

...And yet, it is no more. The scent has been discontinued and this year the house of Chloé treated us to a new incarnation of the scent. Is it any good? I haven’t smelled it yet even though it recently hit the shelves here as well. Did the original smell dated? Perhaps. The brand does try to appeal to a youthful market – the “Chloé Girl” – and as we know the scent du jour for such a market has to be an inoffensive fruity floral. But herein lies the danger of introducing a fragrance that has a name homonymous to that of your company. The scent that carries the name becomes a signature of the house itself, an embodiment of its style and values. It is a statement that’s hard to revoke unless you axe the fragrance itself when it has served its purpose.



The Original Chloé is still easy to find at online perfume discounters.
Please check Tamara’s pick for this month’s Forget me Not by clicking here.

Images: Pret-a-Porter french movie poster, http://wikimedia.commons.org
Chloé bottle and box from www.imaginationperfumery.com
The original, controversial, Lilly-stopper flacon of Chloé in miniature format, www.scentserely.com

Forget me Not : Arpège by Lanvin

In the first decade of the 1900s, Jeanne Lanvin, the magnificent, iconic couturiere and founder of the house that still bears her name, begun designing outfits and dresses for one of her younger sisters and her daughter, as well as for her own, beloved and doted upon child, Marguerite. Soon, word spread, and Lanvin became famous as a mother-daughter fashion designer. Lanvin especially loved to dress Marguerite, to whom she was utterly devoted to, and the adored child grew up to be a beautiful young woman with an astounding sense of style. The emblem of the house (seen left), printed in gold on many of the house’s fragrance bottles (My Sin, Arpège, Eclat d’Arpège etc...) was created by the famous fashion illustrator Paul Iribe and is a stylized depiction of one of Jeanne Lanvin’s own drawings (seen right) of herself together with daughter Marguerite – a drawing with which Lanvin wanted to illustrate the bond between them. Seeing it now, and knowing the history of the house of course, I am unable to look at it without thinking that indeed, the emblem itself, as well as the original drawing do not only depict the bond between Jeanne and Marguerite, but any mother and daughter - as well as representing the foundation that catapulted Lanvin’s career. Built out of love. This story of love and affection comes full circle in 1927, on Marguerite’s (who had by then changed her name to Marie-Blanche, Comtesse de Polignac) 30th birthday, when Jeanne Lanvin gifted her talented, musical daughter with her very own perfume, Arpège, named after the arpeggio, presented in a flacon designed by art deco designer Armand Albert Rateau, with the golden emblem depicting the two of them together.

This wondrous scent, composed by André Fraysse and Paul Vacher, plays its theme from its heart of rose and jasmine – the heart of hearts, the heart which is the center of countless fragrances, yet one that beats in an undeniably unique manner as found in Arpège. Its spellbinding aldehydic opening serves to identify it as a classic, although at the time of its launch it was anything but. It was instead utterly au courant, one of the disturbing newcomers that made use of the (at the time) still sniffed at by most contemporary perfumers, aldehydes. While Arpège was not the first (Chanel’s No.5 has that honor), it was still one of the first few daring ones to go against the current by making use of synthetic aldehydes. And so we have the pleasure to enjoy a fragrance whose edges are all blurred out, whose fruity opening is sparkling and vibrant, whose rising florals are enhanced and whose lasting appeal is gently softened by something that feels like a single, silky dusting of the most luxurious, glistening powder. The aforementioned, rich, rose-jasmine heart is masterfully supported and at the same time gently counterbalanced by greener accents of muguet, hyacinth and honeysuckle, while the sweet, thin powdery character of the bouquet is rounded off with a sprig of lilac. Vetiver supports this beautiful scent’s slight greenness, while musk and sandalwood make its seductive side not only constantly apparent, but also long lasting. Finally, Arpège has had many, many little tweaks over the years so owners of vintage bottles are likely to encounter differences among them. However, according to some sources the currently available jus is a return to the first, original formula.

Tamara has chosen First by Van Cleef & Arpels for today's Forget me Not. You can find her review here.

Images: www.wilsonart.com, www.laperle-global.com and www.dolcn.com

Forget me Not: Private Collection by Estée Lauder

Private Collection was created in 1973 and was allegedly Estée Lauder’s signature fragrance, a scent that became synonymous with the image of good taste she projected throughout her life. The story goes that before this fragrance was made accessible to the general public, it was only available to three women: Lauder herself, Princess Grace of Monaco and Wallis, the Duchess of Windsor. Allegedly, Lauder gifted these remarkable women the exclusive privilege to this perfume because they loved it so much.

My personal love affair with this perfume started when, still very young, I smelled it on a friend of my mother’s, and experiencing complete and utter wonderment, I was left with no choice but to fall under its spell. I wish I could remember who the mystery woman was, but I cannot. Private Collection has completely eclipsed her presence, her features, her name. Only it remains, a bright beacon in the dark alleyways of long lost memories. I remember thinking that it was the most unique perfume I’d ever smelled – a perfume, but not a perfume, an extension of one’s personality, a stamp of character, something I could not quite touch. It smelled like nothing I’d ever smelled before. I feel a little shaken thinking how wildly unbelievable it is that I feel the same to this day. Private Collection stands alone, as inexplicably unique today as it was then. At 16, I finally felt adult enough to buy myself a bottle of what I then considered to be the most exquisite perfume ever made. It seemed inordinately expensive to my young self (well, in all honesty, it was inordinately expensive back then, if only by comparison) and I was only able to afford the tiny 30ml EdP. Both the price and the age I chose to buy it seem laughable in retrospect. While I hate to put age labels on any kind of perfume, Private Collection is one of the few exceptions. I don’t know what convinced me that I could pull it off at 16. This should not be worn by anyone that is not at the very least in their 20s! Even now, my mind screams that this last sentence should read “no one under 30” instead, but I guess I can’t help but wish to retain the right to wear it. Or at least fool myself that I can.

I could tell you that Private Collection opens with the most wonderful autumnal chrysanthemums, studded with sparkling raindrops of a passing storm. Earthy and ever so slightly sour, they are as real as the ones I used to shun in our garden as a child, in favor of more visually impressive blooms, and miss so much now. I could tell you of the most unbelievable rendition of hyacinths and narcissi, how they merge with blossoms white of orange and jasmine, so seductive, they almost feel narcotic. I’d write about how ingeniously the linden blossoms start us on the path of green, enhanced as we go, first by traces of grass and sap of leaves and vines and then soon by the evergreen needles and deep galbanum. And yet all this would still manage to say nothing about what Private Collection really is. It is the woman whose hair is always in place. She is not sexy, or necessarily beautiful. She has presence, both evident from her structure, which is neither delicate nor frail and from her unwavering gaze, which is always demanding the best of everyone. She is understated luxury, old money and sophistication. She’ll look good when she’s old. She is, more than anything else really, detached. Few women manage to close the distance between this powerful fragrance and themselves in order to truly make it theirs. I know I haven’t, and suspect I never will. But that’s the beauty of a fragrance wardrobe. Private Collection can be used as a tool, on days and occasions when it is needed to project a certain image, a certain facet of ourselves. It will be there when we need to protect ourselves under a shield or numb the pain. It will be there when we need to keep our distance and it will force us to stand tall when we need to impress. The rest of the time we’ll be giving in to our vices and passions.

Don’t forget to check Tamara’s entry!

Images: commons.wikimedia.com (Grace Kelly, Lauder with customer, Chrysanthemums)

Forget me Not: Antaeus by Chanel

When TMH of For the Love of Perfume and I came up with the idea for this feature a couple of months ago, we decided we had to find a name for it that would be neutral enough to allow us to write about both oldies we liked and disliked as well. Considering my feelings about Antaeus, I now find myself wondering whether Forget me Not is indeed neutral enough. Having said that, Antaeus should not be forgotten. Bare with him. He’s got tricks up his sleeve.

Created by Jacques Polge in 1981, Antaeus perfectly captures the spirit of a male powerhouse fragrance of the ‘80s. This potent brew, like so many of the decade’s creations, shamelessly advertises the wearer’s virility like an open declaration of blatant machismo. In fact, this juice is so strong, it easily evokes vivid mental imagery of a crazed male rubbing cologne on freshly showered chest hair in anticipation of ...what? Going out for a night of ‘pulling’? Does this ring any bells? Why yes, I think I’ve caught this scene before: Tom Selleck, in an advertizement for Revlon’s Chaz. I could not find it on YouTube, unfortunately, but the commercial is available on this site, third video on the right hand column.

Antaeus’ opening is briefly sharp and citrusy, but even during this initially fresh moment the animalic base is clearly perceptible. The slightly astringent, green coriander wilts under the pressure and then withers away into nothingness. I cannot possibly sniff too close to the skin soon after the fragrance is applied: doing so means nothing less than receiving a bold smack, or perhaps even a punch in the nose, which ends up delivering a mighty, stinging sensation behind my eyes. Had Antaeus been able to wear a drop of his namesake fragrance, surely he’d have had an advantage against Hercules. The heart of the fragrance is a slightly herbal, spicy rose, which keeps getting infused with the rising base notes. It is a rose wrapped in leather and oakmoss, and if it wasn’t for the distinct and very obvious...”maleness” of this fragrance I know this would be something I’d enjoy. If I close my eyes, I can, if only briefly, smell the inspiration behind it. I perceive this inspiration to be the hugely successful at the time, prickly, thorny, heavy as a paperweight dropped on the head, “here I come!”, female fragrances of the era. A surprising realization, considering Chanel never released such an obvious choice for women. The box does not mention oakmoss. Having said that, it is oakmoss that I smell so clearly at this perfume’s base. Oakmoss, labdanum and patchouli. How can this be? It is entirely possible of course that I am fooled, but I swear, after some point, this is all I can smell. Yes, the drydown of Antaeus is a definite leather chypre, to my nose at least, and this is its saving grace. A nasty, putrid opening, a far too strong, oppressing heart...But then, a beautiful reward in the end. I still wouldn’t be able to call this chic, or sophisticated. Its obviousness forbids me to venture that far. Yet, the thoughtful drydown does make up for the horror I suffer every time I test this on my skin. I cannot claim to like something so strong, so abrasive. But let me put it this way: Antaeus might seem like nothing more than one of many, many others initially. A little patience though, proves that he is actually, rather unique. A giant –much like the mythological being he owes his name to- that trod a road others still refuse to follow. And yes, if only for that, he deserves to be featured as part of Forget me Not.

Please also visit For the Love of Perfume to read TMH's pick for this month's Forget me Not.

Images: www.kimcm.dk and commons.wikimedia.org

Forget me Not : Diva by Ungaro

It is the third Monday of the month, which means Fragrance Bouquet and For the Love of Perfume are writing about yet another classic. For this month’s feature, TMH and I have chosen Ungaro’s Diva, a perfume that I have for a while been craving to see reviewed by dear TMH, as it is so close to her heart. I only discovered Diva a couple of years ago myself and am glad for it, as I do not see it nearly as often any longer. It is not that Diva is hard to find – it is in fact widely available and rather cheap at perfume discounters. But when it comes to local perfumeries, Diva is slowly being replaced by better selling fragrances. I do understand why – the shelf-space is limited and the fragrance market is rather oversaturated with new releases. Choices have to be made. It is a sad day though, when a beloved classic is being replaced, its space on the shelf taken over by yet another fruity floral.

Created by Jacques Polge, Chanel’s third Master Perfumer and current nose, Diva launched in 1983 and was succeeded by two different flankers, Fleur de Diva – a fruity floral- in 1997 and Divas – a woody musk scent whose notes sound absolutely delightful- in 2000. A child of the eighties though it might be, Diva does not have the quintessential powerhouse-fragrance feel many of its contemporaries have. The name in this instance is rather misleading: this is a much more subtle and ladylike floral-chypre scent, that oozes class. The opening is almost sour, full of vintage ambience. Quickly the aldehydic top notes amplify the sharpness of coriander and bergamot, imparting a sense of fizzy greenness on the skin. Once the initial “sourness” dissipates, Diva goes through a short stage in which it is quite reminiscent of Paloma Picasso with which it is very often compared – although I feel I must add that Paloma Picasso has more depth and feels much more layered. Even though there is no leather note in this scent, it is in this stage too that I get a definite impression of leather, a soft crack of a whip that stings oh, so sweet. The middle stage of Diva’s development is in turn a beautiful floral heart, with no traces of Paloma Picasso’s strong profile left and the cracking of the aforementioned whip all but a distant thunder. At first, the most prominent and easily picked-out note seems to be the gorgeous rose, concentrated and deep, changing colors in my mind’s eye from deep red, to match the potency of its scent, to creamy champagne, matching its spirit. Soon though, my senses get not so much awakened, but actually assaulted by the powerful imagery created by the ivory bouquet of white florals. An impression so strong, so powerful, of indolic jasmine, tuberose and fleshy gardenia, slaps me in the face abruptly and I breathlessly turn the other cheek, eagerly begging for more. I speak of imagery indeed, because the occurence always manages to be eerily visual. Diva’s mossy base is apparent from the beginning, but as the heart notes slowly fly off, the oakmoss becomes truly inebriating – chypre lovers will swoon with joy. This is a lovely, musky, mossy drydown, which makes excellent use of a thyme-honey accord. The effect is utterly lovely: beautiful, honeyed oakmoss with a hint of beeswax that makes me want to rub my nose against my own skin like a kitten. Those that enjoy Ivoire’s mossy drydown but wish it was a little less single-minded and a little more elaborate, are sure to love Diva.

Images: www.punmiris.com and http://commons.wikimedia.org

Forget me Not : Ivoire by Balmain

It’s the third Monday of the month and it is time for the first installment of Forget me Not, a monthly feature brought to you by Fragrance Bouquet and For the Love of Perfume. I wish I could offer some deep, meaningful justification on why I chose Ivoire by Balmain to be the first fragrance featured in this joint project, but I have to admit I cannot. It is not a choice that emerged after thoughtful contemplation, juxtaposing of reasons and ideals. It was instead what seemed like the only choice, for once I thought about this feature it was the first fragrance that came to mind and there it remained, with willful persistence. Despite my best efforts to veer into a different direction, it kept popping up in my thoughts in the same manner a pink elephant would, were I to try to banish all thoughts of pink elephants for the next five minutes. I have to add though, that I am deeply pleased with the fact that Ivoire enthroned itself in my thoughts and refused to leave, lest I sound like an unwilling participant. Ivoire does not deserve to sit on the bottom shelf – it deserves eye-level status in the shops that still carry it.

Its opening is soapy, effortlessly evocative of large soft hands washed with the most luxurious, ivory bar of soap. Cool, soothing and silky, these are the hands I wish to have holding my face when I need comfort. Even though the scent is clean and asexual at this stage, my mind’s eye interprets this as a paternal, caring touch. And even though the soft, clean smell of soap is so emphatic that I have trouble seeing it change to anything else, it is surprisingly ephemeral. Suddenly, not progressively, Ivoire intensifies, shedding its innocent purity. Like a chrysalis, it goes about its metamorphosis - from quiet simplicity to the complex beauty of an adult butterfly. It becomes free-spirited, fleeting and romantic at the same time: A young adult venturing into her first real love affair, still finding true commitment unthinkable. The purity and chastity of the soap now serves as a backdrop to the spicy green, intense interest of the labdanum. And as time passes by, we enter a world of florals, almost all soapiness passed by. A coming of age. Seduction is no longer clumsy, but deliberate, using all nature has to offer. Carnation holds court on a bed of assorted blooms, a scepter of black peppercorns in hand. The naturally redolent ylang-ylang plays a quieter, supporting role to its queen of choice, lovingly caressing the carnation’s dainty toes with its aromatic, golden tendrils. Muguet enhances the beauty of both with its truthful elegance. This time the change is more gradual. The florals are muted slowly, one by one, until only the memory of the carnation survives. It is strange that this, the last stage Ivoire enters is also its most intense. Unlike its inflorescence, it has refused to become muted. Instead, it grows in spirit, becoming the most beautiful mixture of earthiness, resin and moss. The moss is magnified, announcing like a Diva that this whole production was there for her to play the starring role. And this outrageous claim is actually not that hard to believe, gorgeous and glorious as she is. This drydown stage is very reminiscent of Ava Serena Franco’s own Moss fragrance, which I also love, by the way. And what has become of the emergent chrysalis, entering adulthood? She has learned how to seduce, but has she learned how to love with fervor? Perhaps she has indeed, but we will never know. Ivoire is not giving away the ending to that story, just a glimpse of a stage in her life. It is tantalizing, yet still aloof. It lacks the musk or leather that would make it a sexually active beast. But that’s alright by me: Ivoire remains a promise, a possibility. In my mind, there is no doubt that this is a fragrance that tells the story of resplendent youth – so eloquently it describes innocence and the tune a heart sings when it really falls in love for the first time. It is so optimistic, as though maturity and the responsibilities and consequences it brings with it are light years away. As far away in fact, as they indeed seem to youthful arrogance. For the cynics amongst us, this can be heartbreaking.

To see which perfume TMH has chosen for our Forget me Not Feature, please visit For the Love of Perfume.

Images Courtesy of: www.ycsznet.com, butterfly image from StarJem’s webshop on Etsy

Fragrance Bouquet News: New Features and Things to Come

Dear Readers,

I am very excited to announce that Fragrance Bouquet will be teaming up with For the Love of Perfume to bring you two new features! These will be hosted on both our blogs every first and every third Monday of the month. Starting today, every first Monday of the month, TMH256 and I will be writing “Perfume for the Occasion”, where we will discuss appropriate scents for a different occasion each time, beginning with today’s rather controversial subject, “Perfumes for the Gym”. The third Monday of each month will in turn be devoted to older, well-established classic fragrances. We have affectionately dubbed this feature “Forget me Not” and we were prompted to start it by your -that is, our readers’- desire to see more reviews of older fragrances amidst the reviews of niche and new releases. The first “Forget me Not” feature will be presented on Monday the 17th of September. We welcome requests and suggestions on both these features! As well as these regular features, TMH256 and I will be bringing you more impromptu joint projects, such as our Fall top 5, which will be presented on the 30th of September. Lastly, Fragrance Bouquet will be taking to the streets once per month to bring you the monthly “Tried and Tested” feature, where the opinion of random pedestrians will be solicited on a different fragrance each time. I hope you are as excited as I am about all these new features!