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

By Woman by Dolce & Gabbana : Perfume Review

I wore By Woman religiously in 1998; I remember its strong scent permeating everything at the time: my hair, my clothes, the hallway I’d rush through to get to the door, habitually late for any appointment. It has this way of leaving an air of longing behind it, hanging like a little cloud, long after the wearer has disappeared. I didn’t notice when it got discontinued, somehow I took it for granted, like something that would always be there for me when I needed it. Years later, the olfactory memory haunted me, at times as strong as though my perfumed wrist was stuck under my nose. Other times it would become elusive; leaving behind just this tortured feeling, the nagging certainty that I’d lost one of the sexiest scents I’d ever come across. This summer, while visiting Thessaloniki, I was lucky enough to find it again. Tucked away in what is now known as the old French quarter, three of the city’s oldest perfume shops still exist. The oldest one, the one I was craving to photograph for Fragrance Bouquet was closed, but the one next door was thankfully open. The shop sold mostly essences imported from France, but there was also a section, a few shelves really, of discontinued perfumes. I didn’t even need to scan them: By Woman caught my eye immediately with its extravagant leopard print box. Still wrapped and sealed, protected from the sun in its shady spot, it was as well as mine. My excitement was obvious and the owner of the shop engaged me in a conversation about his own lost loves of perfumery, confessing that he keeps the remnants of several in a drawer, taking them out for a sniff-induced trip back in time every now and again. I paid and left with a spring in my step, not only because I had found one of my own lost loves again, but because I had the chance to speak to someone who is obviously passionate about perfume too.

By Woman requires patience: It is one of those perfumes you have to wait for until they bloom to perfection on the skin. The opening is fresh, very citrusy and slightly green. It has a rather masculine quality to it, in an expensive cologne sort of way. Fruity tangerine and bitter bergamot dance around something unidentifiable – something almost plastic, which is not altogether unpleasant, but is very misleading indeed. It gives away nothing of the true character of the fragrance, the feverish sensuality that is to inevitably follow. It still seems tame, while it is anything but. And so it begins, testing the patience of the wearer with its indifferent masculine freshness. Persistently sniffing the skin is of no use at the moment: like playing with a cat, looking at it straight in the eye will not bring it closer. Ignore it though, avert your eyes, and soon the silky fur will undoubtedly surprise you by creeping up against you, in the same manner that By will surprise the senses by suddenly wafting towards the nose in a completely different manifestation than the one detected close to the skin. This gentle, wafting cloud is a prelude of how the scent will evolve on the skin. Soon perhaps, but not yet. For now the heady, exotic smell of the Lilly is blooming, trying to outdo the pungent, ever so slightly soapy ginger. The inebriating scent of pittosporum, the gorgeous flowering shrub that drives humans and bees alike crazy come spring, is embracing both. It caresses the skin with its white, delicate fingers, bestowing upon it the promise of nectar, the same promise that makes swarms of bees gather to gorge on its flowers. Then suddenly, yes, realization finally dawns: By Woman fully arrives, strong and thirsty, like luscious, engorged lips seeking the gloss of water. It positively surrounds the body, like an inescapable, delirious presence. Lashings of bittersweet coffee-syrup are poured all over the delicate white flowers, infused with vanilla and musk. The result is sweet, but not overly so: just perfect. The coffee combines perfectly with the smooth creaminess of sandalwood and the cedar eagerly brings the wearer's own skin-scent to the fore, enhancing it, underscoring all of its seductive qualities.

Deconstructing By seems almost like a mistake to me – the notes by themselves do not reveal the full extent of the end result. By is more than the sum of its parts: the beautiful blend is mysterious – I feel unable to decode how something can have so much sensuality just by looking at the notes. By is voluptuous, a pair of breasts drawn by an artist crazy with desire. It is sexuality worn as a weapon, which is of course, now that I think of it, the quintessential D&G woman. I don’t understand why this is no longer in production when thinking how much it fits their collections. It is the most gorgeous creature, leaving men half-conscious at the wake of her curves as she passes by, flaunting her cat o’ nine tails. By is empowering, one of the most empowering fragrances I have ever worn in fact. It acts like a confidence booster, like only a killer pair of heels possibly could. (for completely inimitable effects, try both at the same time) There are more powerhouse fragrances that can make a woman feel as strong as fortress, as powerful as a canon. Paloma Picasso would be a good example. But whereas Paloma warns intruders by penalty of castration, By raises an eyebrow and grins, hinting that she might be penetrable after all.

I want to continue the little tradition I started when reviewing Miyako, so from now on whenever I am reviewing a hard-to-find fragrance I will also be offering a sample of it. Please comment if you would like to be entered in the drawing.

PS: I hope the last image can be taken with the humor with which it is intended. I probably should not worry, but finding out that it was banned in the UK made a couple of alarm bells ring in my head!

Images: Author’s Own, www.doyletics.com and www.worldopiniontest.com