Heliotrope Winner

The winner of last week's draw for the large spray sample of Piver's Heliotrope Blanc, was once again Parisa! Results attained with www.random.org's list function.
Come back again later today for another perfume review.
x,

Divina.~*

Heliotrope : Two Sides of the Same Coin

Opinions seem to be split down the middle when it comes to heliotrope. Some love it and seek its warm, comforting scent, while others hate it with a passion, reporting aversive reactions to it. Rarely are there any indifferent comments to be found when it comes to heliotrope scents. But that is a good thing, isn’t it? Something that sparks such intense emotions, whether these belong to one side of the continuum or the other, is surely worth a second glance!

Heliotrope, otherwise known as tournesol or turnsole, derives its name from its tendency to move with the sun. The many varieties of this plant are popular with gardeners for their heavenly scent. Blooms are most often white or lavender colored, and yes, there is a difference in scent: The purple colored shrubs emit a fragrance most often reminiscent of almondy vanilla or cherry pie, while the ones that bloom in white emit a fragrance which has been likened to baby powder.

My two favorite heliotrope perfumes are Etro’s Heliotrope and L.T. Piver’s Heliotrope Blanc. They are very different, yet both are charming and well made. Etro’s Heliotrope is as straightforwardly close to what people have learned to expect from heliotrope scents as can be. The opening is intensely almondy, instantly reminiscent to me of the bitter-almond essence my mother used to flavor the dough of the traditional baked goodies she used to make for Christmas. The very recognizable, Play-Doh quality that most haters of heliotrope scents despise soon follows, I’m afraid, but for those of us that love the smell this is a good stage, bringing back pleasant memories of innocent childhood play. And true, Play-Doh is not what you want to smell of when you are all dressed up for an evening out... But what about the times when you just want to de-stress at home, or one of these hectic mornings we are all bound to have from time to time? I’ll admit that this youthful reminder has helped me shut the world out a number of times while rushing to do the day’s shopping in the crowded city streets. The drydown is just as wonderfully comforting, or perhaps even more so, with gourmand, cookie-like notes of vanilla that feel warm and tender, enveloping the skin in baked goodness. The only drawback of this scent for me is that lasting power is not its strongest point.

L.T. Piver’s Heliotrope Blanc is definitely my favorite of the two, and I must say, the huge price difference makes this all the more pleasant! Heliotrope Blanc’s almond opening is much creamier than Etro’s, lacking the bitterness of the latter. It feels more natural too: instead of almond essence, I am left envisioning picking a yet unripe almond straight from the tree, still in its velvety green casing. There is a lively freshness to it and a nutty flavor Etro’s offering lacks. Once warmed by the skin the fragrance becomes sweeter and it is this sweetness that I find so attractive. Its character remains soft and gentle however: this is a semi-transparent, loving sweetness that wishes to caress. It never becomes cloying or heavy. Heliotrope Blanc is also gently floral, but while the official notes report jasmine and ylang ylang, I am completely unable to pick them out. These are both heady scents and Heliotrope Blanc is anything but. Instead, its tender floral undertones seem to me just an accent, like a distant memory whose meaning is forgotten, while the emotions related to it remain, making the heart beat a little faster each time a piece of the image’s puzzle floats into consciousness. The drydown combines a baby soft, faintly talcumed effect with a delicate balsamic feel, making it at once comforting and rather sensuous at the same time. I am reviewing the Eau de Cologne, I have to say, but the lasting power is excellent. This is a fragrance that wears close to the skin, but will linger and surround the body for hours.

As always when I review a hard to find fragrance, I offer a sample of Piver’s Heliotrope Blanc to one of the readers. Let me know in a comment if you would like to be entered in a drawing for this large 3ml spray sample.


Images: Photo & Artistic interpretation of Sunflower by Sakis Alexiou, Image of Kourabiedes (the baked sweets I was talking about) and macaroons from Flickr – originally uploaded by l&coolj, image of Heliotrope Blanc bottle from www.piver.com

Soap Story : Esperys by Piver

A touch of the flu has left me feeling a little worse for wear since yesterday, with a stomach that can’t possibly stomach sniffing perfume at the moment. How hateful is that? Especially so when there are new discoveries on my desk waiting to be reviewed. Let’s hope it doesn’t last long – I want to share some of my new discoveries with you by Friday.

So, in the absence of a review today, how about a little follow up to my recent post on Courdray’s Esperys? It turns out I am not the only one intrigued by the questions that were brought up in that review. I received a few emails on the subject and one of them in particular was wondering, just as I was, how close the new Esperys might be to the original by Piver. I am afraid I still do not have a good answer for this question, but the email did prompt me to try and come a little closer to the truth. Despite my efforts so far, I have been unable to source some of the original jus, but ... I did know where to find the original soap! Do I hear you laughing? Yeah, I am too. It’s better than nothing though, I’m sure you’ll agree. Well, as it turns out Esperys the soap bares no resemblance to Coudray’s modern version. But then again, I now find myself wondering just how many features -if any- the soap’s scent actually shares with the original fragrance itself. I simply cannot imagine what I smell here successfully translated into a perfume, you see. There is the issue of the overwhelming soapiness of course, but behind that there is a rather unpleasant scent of sweet sweat. Aside from this, I also recognize the same base Piver used for their Heliotrope fragrance and a subtle floral bouquet slightly reminiscent of Floramye’s drydown. The mild sweat note combined with the soft florals creates a confusing ambivalence, as though the scent cannot decide whether it is masculine of feminine. All I can say is that I hope the original does not smell like the soap. On a more positive note, I delight in having this gorgeous little box on my dresser.

Image: Author’s own

Esperys by E. Coudray : Perfume Review

What is the connection between E. Coudray and L.T. Piver? Why do they share the same address? Are they co-owned? Does Piver own Coudray? All questions I cannot answer unfortunately, but logic guides me to the conclusion that L.T. Piver probably does own Coudray, since every Coudray product is stamped with “L.T. Piver S.A.” while Piver products themselves bear no mention of Coudray on the packaging. So if Piver indeed owns Coudray, what is the connection between Coudray’s new Esperys and L.T. Piver’s original? (launched in 1903, re-introduced in 1911, now discontinued) Another question I cannot answer, but wish I could. I admire most everything I have smelled from Piver and the same goes for Coudray’s products, from the perfumes to the luxurious, deeply hydrating body creams. There is a difference though – Piver’s fragrances suit me and I find them very wearable, while so far I have not found a Coudray I felt excited enough about to buy. They just don’t go with my personality it seems, seeming either too flowery, too heavy or too sweet most of the time. Yet Esperys won a little place in my heart before I even had the chance to sniff it, and couldn’t wait to do so. Undoubtedly the name played a huge role in this, reminding me of the greek word Esperinos, the early evening hour. The time when the sun sets, the church bells ring and the birds go to roost. The time when I always had to stop playing and rush home as a child, forming a deep, sad association with the hour and the sadness I invariably always ended up feeling when I heard the call of birds overhead signaling their return as well as mine. To this day, the cries of a flock of birds going to roost at nighttime make my heart feel a little heavier, lamenting another day lost in time. A great name does not make a great perfume though. How many times do I need to experience this simple fact before it becomes internalized as a belief? Many, apparently.

Esperys opens with not so much a note, but a setting. The fist days of fall, after a summer drought that seemed eternal. Storm clouds gather ominously – there’s static in the air. The deserted road has accumulated inches of dirt that is about to be washed away. As the first large raindrops lazily start to fall, the air fills with the scent of dust rising from the road. Soon, if the rain was allowed to becomes more and more urgent, this parched smell would give way to freshness, but Esperys remains focused on that first moment instead, the moment of the first raindrops on a hot dirt road. That first moment, with the dust rising like a cloud and threatening to choke the hapless pedestrians running to find cover in order to avoid the approaching storm is forever captured in Esperys, unchanging, with no relief of cleansing in sight. I am not complaining – merely describing, for uniqueness excites me in perfumery and I have never smelled this before. I’ve smelled rain, I’ve smelled storms, I’ve smelled wet earth. I've smelled dustiness before too. But never so much intense, wet dust: this is new. I am not exaggerating either when I speak of that choking feeling of rainy dust cloud rising to the nostrils. It feels like an implosion of dryness. I am seduced by the novelty and my excitement mounts as I smell the fizzy bitterness of beer that follows. Green, wild vegetation is growing on the sides of my imaginary road. They too are dusty of course and I can almost smell their relief at the promise of rain. They are perfect and I can’t wait for them to grow in intensity and shine through. But they never do. Instead, very suddenly, I find myself woefully wondering if the ‘red berry’ note in the press release alludes to pomegranate, because that is indeed exactly what I am smelling and I do not like it. Not one bit. It is all there, the fruity seeds, the unsugared juice and most of all, the skin. Admittedly, the bitter dryness of the skin matches the dry composition, but I hate it regardless. Esperys didn’t need fruit. It didn’t need the caramel either, which peculiarly floats to the top far sooner than I expected it to. It makes the composition just a tad sweeter, unable to outmaneuver the glorious, dry bitterness. Its presence is nevertheless distracting and slightly nauseating. I keep hoping both it and the pomegranate will at some point relent, but (as I later find out), it takes them more than two hours to dissipate. These two conspire to ruin the fragrance for me. Even the beautiful, (yes, once again ‘dusty’) dry nutmeg can’t seem to cheer me up. The rest of the composition is so intriguing – the dustiness, the dryness, the sheer unique strangeness of it make me want to wear it, take it out for a spin, raise a few eyebrows, bother a few noses. I know though I never will. I can’t possibly stomach neither the pomegranate, nor the caramel. There is a delay, during which my shocked nose does not detect any changes, then suddenly, the rose becomes apparent. It is heavy, rather masculine. It smells exactly like Greek rose resin regularly used to burn on charcoal. If I was disappointed before, I am even more so now. From the first moment I experienced that exceptional dustiness I wanted it to be intermingled with greens and white flowers. The freesias that never came through. Maybe some honeysuckle and a little jasmine, if I had a say in it. I wanted it to be ethereal as well as strange. I willed Esperys to break my heart with its beauty just like Esperinos, the hour of sunset always has. And now, now it is cloying on top of everything else. Disappointed I wait for the drydown. It is not completely unremarkable, due to the dryness which still persists. Behind it lurks the rather unexciting smell of an expensive body cream. My disappointment is acute and apparent due to the fact that this was something I really wanted to like. I hate to admit it, but I can’t wait to wash it off. Four hours has been torture enough.

Images:
Esperys bottle from www.parfumeursdefrance.com
Painting of dusty road from the National Hungarian Gallery, www.mng.hu
Greek rose resin, from Natural Flow Direct ebay webshop: http://stores.ebay.co.uk/Natural-Flow-Direct

Un Parfum d’Aventure by L.T. Piver : Perfume Review

The world of fragrance can sometimes be overwhelming and it is not hard to get jaded while sampling its offerings. Truly, how often does it occur that you fall in love with a scent the moment you spray it on your skin? How often does it happen that it haunts you every day after that initial application until you acquire it? This is not a common occurrence for me, yet this is exactly what happened the first time I got to try Un Parfum d’Aventure. All it took was a single spray on my wrist and I was instantly ensnared and forever enchanted. Since it is not available where I live, I had to wait a week before I could return to the boutique where I initially experienced this unexpected gem in order to finally make it mine. My excitement over this perfume has not faded in the least since that day and it has helped initiate a love affair with the perfumes of L.T. Piver, perfumes which I promise to return to and review in the future.

Un Parfum d’Aventure was released in 1931 for the occasion of the Colonial Exhibition of Paris and has since been tweaked for its re-release. Having never experienced the original, I cannot make a comparison but there is definitely one thing I can say: Un Parfum d’Aventure smells vintage. It takes me back in time with unparalleled ease, giving me the chance to find my nose gently pushed against the pressed collar of a cleanly shaven gentleman of its time. I say gentleman, and indeed, this is identified as a masculine perfume, but I would never hesitate to encourage a woman to wear this fragrance as I believe it can be just as much of an asset in a woman’s fragrance wardrobe as in a man’s.

I love everything about this perfume, everything from the beautiful green-colored box, to the little story on its back –printed both in French and in English-, to the simple, masculine flacon, to the jus contained within. The note that I find most irresistible in Un Parfum d’Aventure is one I unfortunately cannot put my finger on. It is a slightly medicinal, herbal note that stings and refreshes the nose and it is the exact same note that attracts me to Vanille Exquise by Anick Goutal. Even though the two do not share any of their official notes, the resemblance is unmistakable. Unlike Vanille Exquise though, the note remains unrelenting in Un Parfum d’Aventure, refusing to fly off throughout the development. It gives and gives, always remaining as strong. I never tire of it and I find myself bringing my wrist to my nose throughout the day in order to deeply inhale it and feel its effects all day long when I wear this perfume. It is most often described as a warm spicy scent, and indeed, it will not disappoint spice lovers. Pink pepper combines beautifully with cloves and cinnamon to add extra warmth, while cardamom and cedar manage to keep everything dry and temperate under their welcome discipline. The lavender contained in the blend lends to the rather old-fashioned masculine, vintage feel of this fragrance, and even though only a top note, it is once again one that somehow remains noticeable and present throughout the development. It is the combination of lavender, vetiver and geranium that lend a true freshness to the end result - one that makes me hesitate to classify it as a truly warm scent. If we permit ourselves for a moment to embark on the sea bound voyage of discoveries suggested by this perfume, we find that the blend of these three notes can be likened to a spray of seawater hitting the deck of the vessel carrying its precious cargo of spices. Together they lend an uplifting, invigorating briskness to our travels. The vetiver is marvelously gentle, albeit insistent, and the geranium has shed all of its sourness, retaining only its freshness. For me, Un Parfum d’Aventure keeps each and every one of its promises, allowing me to experience the pioneering spirit of discovery and adventure. Priced at 40 euro per 100ml, there is simply no excuse to not indulge in this exotic journey.

The first two pictures are courtesy of www.piver.com while the last one was sourced from www.parfumeursdefrance.com