Chamarré by Mona di Orio : Perfume Review

It is always unfortunate when one feels affinity with and sympathy for a brand and yet somehow fails to appreciate its offerings, resulting in unresolved cognitive dissonance. This would perfectly describe my feelings for the Mona di Orio line of fragrances: I’ve wanted to fall in love with them from the moment I begun educating myself on the line and its creator. Sadly, this never happened. I reviewed Nuit Noire and then held off reviewing anything else from the line because I simply had nothing good to relate about them. When Amyitis first came out I diligently procured a sample fully intending to inform readers about the new release. In the end I couldn’t even bring myself to do that, for fear I might keel over from boredom while writing. Now Mona di Orio has released a brand new perfume, Chamarré, and this time around I feel ready to bite the bullet and dutifully report on it.

Mona di Orio seems to regularly employ a signature dirty cord, and while I most definitely count myself among the group of perfume lovers who not only love but fervently look for animalic notes in perfume, Mona di Orio’s particular signature of animalic perfume components seems to disagree with me. In the case of Chamarré, the problematic (for me) accord is effusive from the very beginning, rendering the potently herbal lavender-clary sage opening warm and heady. The lavender note is exceptionally beatific, sweet, warm and cuddly (indeed completely unnatural as far as lavender goes, yet magically matching the profile of the note so as to be recognized as such), but it regretfully loses its sweet warmth rather rapidly. The combined effect of the opoponax base and the sweet-yet-dirty, warm lavender seem to be directly inspired by modern day Jicky. After a weak citrus sparkle that completely fails to light up the composition like a lonely firefly in a dark cellar, the by now subdued herbal accord gives way to a creamy gentle aldehyde sweetness that is mindful of the same elegance found in Chanel’s Eau Premiere. Unfortunately where that same aldehydic sweetness is magically turned into frothy, exceptional lightness and luminosity in Eau Premiere, in Chamarré it sits heavily on the skin, refusing to budge, weighing everything down like a lead weight. Chamarré further makes use of the same iris component used in its predecessor Amyitis in its heart, combined with slightly salty violet. The sweetness of the rose is well blended and almost barely there; I have to concentrate to detect its signature. The base features an overdose of (excellent) ambergris - just about the only redeeming feature of this perfume. In fact the use of ambergris is so seductive, that I can’t help imagining what Chamarré would have been like without the unfortunate use of heavy (read: as Lee mentions you will get old-lady reference from this) aldehydes and the boring iris-salty violet-ionones heart cord. Mona di Orio’s murky, dirty signature too remains a problem – for me at least. If you have the patience to give this one a couple of hours till the heart notes fade enough, you can enjoy one of the most gorgeous ambergris glows I’ve come across in a modern perfume. However, at 145 euro a pop, I don’t have that kind of patience.

To add a slightly more positive note to this review, I have to say that contrary to my disenchantment with Mona di Orio’s perfumes, I find myself deeply in love with her candles which are all exceptional. Retailing at 53 euro each, they are definitely not cheap but I am sorely tempted to buy at least one of them. Now if only I could decide which one! All three (Mauve, Ebony & Taupe) are really well made and mouthwateringly delicious.

Ambre 114 & 1969 by Histoires de Parfums : Perfume Reviews

It’s Friday and as promised, we’ll once again be visiting the Histoires de Parfums library. The two perfumes we'll explore today are Ambre 114 and 1969; together they form the “Cult Books” subcategory in Histoires de Parfums' collection of tomes.

· Ambre 114: If you are a fan of amber fragrances, and especially if you like huge, golden holy dragons of scents, like Maître Parfumeur et Gantier’s Ambre Précieux and Artisan’s Ambre Extrême, then you definitely need to try Ambre 114 – you’re going to love it. Ambre 114 pays great emphasis on its gorgeous ambergris note, around which everything seems to revolve with inevitable attraction. It is a wonderfully aromatic take on amber, no doubt due to the use of thyme and nutmeg in the composition. The potion gradually changes from herbal luminescence to a mysterious darkness dimly lit by an incandescent heart of gold. Throughout the development the nose is seduced by a progressively intensifying, exotic smokiness, which finally disperses in the drydown to reveal the most gorgeous vanillic tolu-tobacco accord. Comforting and sensuous at once, this warm golden scent will be perfect for the colder months, ideally in front of a roaring fire.

· 1969: As a teenager, I spent a good number of years obsessed with song lyrics and titles – analyzing them, devising games to play with my friends and often, quite embarrassingly I must admit, replying to questions with them. Something that I discovered through this minor quirk is that numerous songs in both English and other languages are titled 1969. Even more songs reference 1969 in their lyrics. People are fascinated by this year, which has attained a power akin to a magical number in our culture. I am not surprised to see the date crop up on a perfume bottle; 1969 is indeed, as the perfume’s box indicates, a mythical year:

The Beatles give their last public performance.
Boeing 747 makes its maiden flight.
John Lennon and Yoko Ono conduct their Bed-In at the Queen Elizabeth Hotel in Montreal; they record “Give Peace a Chance”
The first message is sent over ARPANET, the forerunner of the Internet; a few months later the first link is established.
The world watches as man takes his first steps on the Moon.
Cold War.
Vietnam.
WOODSTOCK

Perhaps it is that last reference, Woodstock, which has me expecting a patchouli-ladden, headshop extravaganza, done in the most sophisticated manner possible bien sûr, but 1969 is anything but. It is a surprise, much like every event in the unexpectedly significant last year of the decade it pays homage to. It smells like a quaintly decorated shop of sweet culinary delights and fruits. At the very same time, it smells like freshly washed shiny hair, warmed by the sun. It smells edible, but not quite, like candied fruit bewitched. The opening is intense and fruity, like citrus fruits preserved in sugar. And ever so slowly it becomes softer and softer, until the intensity of the fruit dissipates and unfolds, to reveal a perfectly blended, lightly sweet softness underneath. Smelling close, there is something lovely and strange emerging out of the smooth sweetness – something cooling, like mint. The passing of time brings floral notes to the fore, a gentle rose and a shy, mild carnation that become the most salient features of this scent, until finally, in the drydown we are left with a bed of cacao opening its arms to receive the shower of flower petals. This fragrance seems deceptively simple at first, but becomes more and more complex as you get to know it. Its most striking feature, the way it combines coolness with warmth, is definitely worth getting to know.

While we continue to discover the Histoires de Parfum line together, I would like to bring your attention to the fact that the lovely Marina over at Perfume Smelling Things is running a raffle today! The lucky winner will receive a sample packet of all 12 Histoires de Parfum scents.

Images: www.music1969.com and www.histoiresdeparfums.com

L’Homme de Coer by Divine : Perfume Review

Happy father’s day everyone! Tomorrow I am leaving for Paris and I will be back on Wednesday evening, but there is still time for one more review this week. I decided to focus on yet another of the beautiful Divine fragrances, this time L’Homme de Coer. It is appropriate for the day insofar that it is a masculine fragrance, but it is not a scent that reminds me of my own dad and the reasons I chose it are not sentimental: it is simply a wonderful male scent I’d been planning to review for a while now.

Knowing that this is a male fragrance based on the iris, I was quite prepared for that first sniff to transport me to a silvery-gray landscape, glistening with rain of liquid zinc and sparkling powder. This image was shattered into pieces that fell through my waiting hands when I finally smelled the actual perfume... My initial surprise never did turn into disappointment though, for my interest was immediately grabbed by the unexpected green opening. One has to be quick to smell the pungent juniper, that when attended to will be very reminiscent of a dry martini, with its gin-like smell. As interesting as it might be though, I can’t help but be glad that it quickly calms and merges with the scent of cypress to provide a calmer interlude before the scent of pine takes over, enhancing everything with its brighter character. There is a strong sense of freshness now, something that makes me think of aftershave... And even though I would normally reserve the word ‘aftershave’ to describe a male fragrance in derogatory terms, in this case it happens to be my way of conveying the impossible sexiness of this stage. Invigorating and crisp, my heart skips a beat and I feel desire building up deep in my abdomen. There is a slow accession of something previously buried under the evergreen foliage, the advent of the softest sweet, yet still clean smell. A musky sweetness like a neck still steaming from the shower, a neck I wish to bite and taste. And still this warmth builds, the naked chest of a man who’s long not been a boy. His chest is moist with peppery, musky angelica and all I want is to be held by him, all pretences left behind. I won’t mind his chest hair against my cheek, I’ll gladly rub my face against it. L'Homme de Coer is now inducing not just vivid images in my mind, but is positively acting like the hormone oxytocin, inducing undiluted feelings of trust, bonding, calmness and well being... What is happening to me? I remain in this warm, comforting embrace, following the development with eyes only half-open as if in a haze. The iris is now in bloom, soft and beautiful but not as powdery as I know it. It is at once masculine and pretty, splendidly accentuated by ambergris which lends it an unexpected soft marine accord. From this point on, the scent lingers close to the skin, never bracing, never aggressive. It melds with the skin, becoming personal, like something seeping effortlessly from the pores in small quantities throughout the day. It is the scent of a secure man that has lived and knows how to love and give selflessly. It is the scent I’d like to imagine is worn only for me.

Images sourced from www.amazoniaflowers.com and www.worth1000.com