Scent of the day - things are looking rosy

Today I'm wearing two fantastic rose fragrances, one of which I've reviewed in some depth before, namely Un Rose by Editions de Parfums Frederic Malle. The other is Paestum Rose by Eau d'Italie. Both are wonderful, but quite different. Un Rose starts off bright and realistically rosy, but then quickly segues from the flower to a velvety, dark and heady mix of rose essence, truffles, civet and some sort of sexual earthiness. It really is a show-stopper and if you like Rose, then I don't think you will be disappointed. This is possibly, along with Vetiver Extraordinaire, my favourite of the line. 

Paestum Rose never quite delivers a full-on rose note, at least not to me. It's all about rose, for sure, but it is a deeply woody, aromatic take on rose, conceptually brilliant in my opinion. Although not anything like potpourri, it does remind me of dried rose petals rather than the flower, but in a very good way. I've sampled a good few rose fragrances in my time, and Paestum Rose smells like no other. Also brilliant.

I'm not sure why, but I woke up this morning and for some reason was just craving the scent of roses. These certainly hit the spot today.

Image credit - http://media.picfor.me

100th post musings, a tribute to Ambre Sultan and Vetiver Extraordinaire and a giveaway

Ok, so this is my 100th post. In a way I am almost surprised that I got here. When I first started blogging back in March this year I started with some trepidation. My main stumbling block was the nagging thought of how self-indulgent blogging can be, and I think I actually made mention of this in my 1st post. Thinking of where I am now, I still think my perfume musings are somewhat self-indulgent, but I can also honestly state that I love doing this. I try not to take myself too seriously - after all, I'm a bean counter, not Bertrand Duchafour. One thing that still worries me a little bit after six months of blogging is whether I am truly objective and unbiased, or for that matter, should I be? It's not as if I am a reviewer for the New York Times, with a paying audience. Having said this, I honestly do try to give every perfume I try a fair go, and to write about it as objectively as I can. Touching on that point in the first sentence of this post, I am a little surprised  I've stuck it out thus far. In this busy world, blogging is really quite low on my list of priorities, and I never wanted to get to the point where I felt anxious if I didn't manage to post an article each day, or something like it. In fact, I told myself that if I ever reach that state, I will pack it in, because this is not a job, it's recreation. And I'm not aiming for world peace (just a nice-smelling world ;-) ).

Moving on, I can't get this far and not make mention of two perfumes that changed my perfume life, and helped me experience a paradigm shift from simply viewing fragrance as something I wear to something I live. At the risk of coming across a bit melodramatic, Serge Luten's Ambre Sultan and Frederic Malle's Vetiver Extraordinaire revolutionised the concept of perfume and perfumery for me, making me realise that perfume is truly an art form, and that like any art, can lead you down a path of amazing discovery and self-realisation. I don't aim to review either of these perfumes today, but they both represent for me an ideal in perfume. I was thinking about this and realised that after 100 posts, I haven't reviewed either before. At first I was surprised, but after some reflection I realised that for me to reduce these two masterpieces to mere sentences would not do them justice. For me, to try and analyse these too much would be to risk spoiling their magic. Ambre Sultan and Vetiver Extraordinaire take me on a journey when I wear them and represent to me all that is good and magical and transcendent about perfume, a rare occurrence let it be said. Perfumes like these is one of the reasons I chose to start a perfume blog and this post is my chance to pay homage to them and their creators, Dominic Ropion and Christopher Sheldrake and to people like Frederic Malle and Serge Lutens, who have helped enable them.

I also want to say thank you to those of you who visit my blog, be it regularly or infrequently, and especially the kind comments I have received. I don't have a huge following and it is not my intention or drive to achieve this anyway. However, it is still gratifying to have built up some online contact with a few fellow perfume lovers out there in the ether and I love visiting your blogs too. 

Ok, so now for my giveaway. It's nothing stupendous, but I'd like you to mention two (or one, if you only have one) perfumes that transcend your concept or understanding of perfume, that induces in you some sort of profound emotion. The giveaway will be a small set of samples (about 5 -7, I haven't quite decided yet), covering hopefully a range of styles and houses. I'd prefer not to mention what the samples are, as I am not affiliated to any perfume house. The winner will be chosen randomly by a member of my household (probably excluding pets) and announced this coming Friday. The winner can then send me an email with their personal details.

Editions De Parfums Frederic Malle Geranium pour Monsieur

I should start this review by saying that generally I am not a fan of either geranium or mint in perfume. Which begs the question why I would sample a perfume based predominantly on these two notes. I don't mind the smell of mint in itself - in the garden for example, or in a cup of tea, or even as an after-dinner sweet. I'm less of a fan of mint in shower gels or toothpaste, although I don't think I would use a toothpaste that doesn't have a peppermint feel and flavour, I think. And that's where the problem lies, because in every perfume I have tried that uses mint, I have immediately made that association with toothpaste and dental hygiene, both good things, but not a smell I wish to smell on myself or project to others, as if I am a dentist. I am even less of a fan of geranium. There's something about the intense herbal and almost weedy smell of geranium that just doesn't appeal to me. I know there are a lot of people who enjoy the smell of geranium, and there are many gardeners who collect scented geraniums for just this purpose. Ok, now that I've got that out the way, how do I approach Geranium pour Monsieur, developed by a great nose, Dominic Ropion? The fragrance opens with quite an intense, minty sweetness, with mentholated geranium. The geranium is strong and to the fore, but so is the mint. As the sweetness fades, there is a smell of something quite herbal, with a piquancy almost like basil leaf. I think my slightly jaundiced association with dental hygiene begins to rear its head because I then detect a note that is almost rubbery, like latex, just beneath the surface! I must be almost certainly wrong. This opening and early heart phase are quite disconcerting for me and at this stage I don't like Geranium pour Monsieur at all, to the extent that it is verging on being a scrubber. 

Thankfully it is at this point that the fragrance turns quite dry, with a gradual intensifying of musk, a laundry musk to be precise. Although mint and geranium are by no means usurped, they don't dominate as much, and in fact, the mint probably fades away altogether, leaving a coolish and dry geranium, musk and gentle woods accord. I think once I reach this phase, I actually start to enjoy the fragrance, although I can't say it ever gets to the point where I feel I could go and out and purchase a full bottle. In keeping with the style of Frederic Malle, this is quite a cerebral take on geranium and mint, very innovative, and I'm sure people who like these two notes more than I do would appreciate this very much. Having said that, the Frederic Malle line can be a bit polarising, so this could divide opinion. I think I prefer this to another mint fragrance, Cartier Roadster, released at a similar time, but I'm still not convinced that I like geranium or mint in perfume much more than I did before. Although this is quite a masculine fragrance, I don't think a woman couldn't wear or appreciate this, although I suspect it would have more male fans overall. 

Perfume notes: mint, peppermint, geranium, clove, white musk, ambroxan, sandalwood, incense and benzoin.

Image credit - http://scentedgeraniumsofne.com

Editions De Parfums Frederic Malle French Lover

French Lover (or Bois D'orage as it is known in the US) was one of the first fragrances I sampled from the Frederic Malle line. In many ways I had only recently become addicted to the whole perfume thing and Frederic Malle was about as niche as could be, for me, and in many ways still is. I admire quite a few perfumes from the line, but I would say that in general, they are not easy perfumes to like; they require a bit of perseverance and even then, there are some you might not grow to like. French Lover is one of those for me. For some reason I have never taken to it, although I do acknowledge that it has a certain something about it. The notes include pimento, galbanum, iris, angelica, cedarwood and vetiver. Other sources list incense, patchouli, mosses, musk, clove and bergamot. What I do know is that French Lover opens with a crackerjack shot of pepper/pink pepper, that reminds me almost of gunpowder, which I think might be the initial burst of galbanum. It is dry, dusty and almost cough-inducing, but as the top notes fade a more recognisable galbanum note seeps through, greener and sappier. Alongside this I detect a very definite clove note and some musk and cedar. There is a floral vibe going as well, or I thought it was floral but perhaps it is angelica. After about fifteen minutes or so I detected a vaguely sour note, slightly spicy and citrusy, which I thought is bergamot. That strange gunpowder note lingers. 

French Lover kept on reminding me of another perfume. At first I couldn't put my finger on it and then it struck me: Isfarkand by Ormonde Jayne. Isfarkand is all about pink pepper, musk and cedar, not a huge leap from pimento, musk, spices and cedar, it must be said. Thinking about it a bit more, I also detect a similarity to Cartier Declaration, without the cumin note. Into the heart and early dry down French Lover softens considerably, with a sweeter mossy note that strengthens and takes this into less austere territory. I must say that I don't detect any iris or patchouli, but that's not to say they aren't there. 

Writing this, I still can't quite say why I don't like French Lover more. It is a good perfume and I know it has lots of fans out there. Perhaps it's the association first of all - I don't personally think French Lover is a very apt name for it. I don't find it a particularly sexy fragrance. If anything it is quite austere and severe, particularly in the first third of development, but that's just my personal take on it. I think it is definitely one of the more masculine fragrances in the Malle line, but having said that, it would be interesting to smell this on a woman. I think a lady who enjoys the style embodied by Ormonde Jayne in particular would quite possibly enjoy this.

Image credit: a33.idata.over-blog.com

Testing frenzy at Liberty, London

I had the pleasure of spending a morning in London yesterday, attending a thrilling course entitled "How to extract profits from owner-managed businesses". London is one of those cities that for me is hateful in the summer. I find it overcrowded, thronging with tourists wandering aimlessly around getting in the way, hot to the point of stifling on the public transport systems and most of all, smelly. Not smelly in a good way, but one is overwhelmed by the smells of unwashed sweaty bodies, sewers and drains that are putrid and faecal and then the assault of fumes; of exhausts, tar, building rubble and hot food. Perhaps this is a bit unfair, and I'm sure thousands of people adore summery London, but I'm glad I don't work or live there anymore. Rant over, but staying with smells, I was able to visit Liberty, the department store near Oxford Circus, which has a fantastic selection of niche and other perfumes. Just to give you a flavour for what is there, they stock Frederic Malle, Le Labo, Diptyque, Rosinne, Comme de Garcon, Serge Lutens, Caron, L'Artisan, Nasamotto, Francis Kurkdjian, Etro, Essentric Molecules, Keiko Mecheri, Annick Goutal, Miller Harris, Byredo,  Costume National, Ineke, and um, I can't remember the rest, but there is more. For those of you who haven't been to London before, or perhaps have visited the usual haunts, like Harrods or Selfridges, I can heartily recommend popping into Liberty if you are in the West End.

I was like a kid in a sweet shop yesterday, spraying crazily onto scent strips and I got to the point where I reached sensory overload, but it was brilliant! I'm setting out below a brief note on what I tried, all on scent strips with the exception of Nuit de Tuberose, so these are only initial impressions and could quite easily develop differently on skin.

Le Labo Labdanum 18 - I was pleasantly surprised. I've read a lot of mixed reviews but it is very interesting. True, it is sweet and for a good time it smells uncannily like Johnsons Baby Powder to me, but it veers into some interesting territory. I can understand the comparisons with Shalimar and even Musk Ravageur.

Le Labo Neroli 36 - again pleasantly surprised. This is about as true a Neroli scent I think you can get. It's quite dry and restrained, but I think would wear brilliantly in summer.

Serge Lutens Bois et Violette - it was immediately obvious the connection with and progression from the original bois progenitor, Feminite du Bois. Tasteful and elegant. My wife liked it, so it must be a winner....

Francis Kurkdjian Lumenier Noir Pour Homme - better than I thought it would be. Quite musky, with little nods to Le Male here and there, but thankfully far less synthetic. I quite liked the little ginger fizz that mingled with the laundry-like musk. Another hit with my wife, hooray!

Nasamotto Black Afgano - quite pungent and to my nose mainly a vetiver fragrance. I actually loved this on paper. My wife recoiled in horror. Tick.

Byredo Baudelaire - another vetiver, quite smoky. Again, I liked this. Byredo has been hit or miss with me, but this one is nice. Would like to get my hands on a sample.

L'Artisan Tea for Two - a typical L'Artisan scent, slightly exotic but a bit too restrained. It is interesting though, with a nice spiced chai mingling with a subtle milky accord. A smidgen of incense to perk it up.

L'Artisan Passage D'enfer - not quite sure about this. It is even lighter than Tea for Two, and reminds me a little of the style used in Timbuktu.

Marrakesh Musc Le Orientalist - starts off intensely sweet but luckily turns to more familiar musk territory. A decent musk, I'd like to test this on skin. I wouldn't call it skanky, but it did wander into territory that was quite sexy.

L'Artisan Nuit de tuberose - this was the only one I tested on skin and I was quite impressed. This is another one that has either received rave reviews (Grain de Musc) or disdain (Peredepierre). I was expecting more tuberose but it was very subtle. Definitely could be worn by a man. I liked the spicy and peppery opening and again, I'd love to get a sample to test properly. On paper the tuberose was more evident and there was a slighly strange, almost 'off' or rotting note that emerged, which I never detected on skin. Worth a try I reckon.

Robert Piguet Fracas - I've read a lot about Fracas in the past. It's nice, but honestly I think Frederic Malle's Carnal Flower was far more interesting. Fracas is tuberose straight up, slightly fleshy, a bit coconutty, but that's it, in my opinion of course! My wife recoiled - I don't think she likes white florals...

So that was it. I really enjoyed this visit and I'd love to get back to Liberty as soon as possible. Next time I'm in London I need to get over to Selfridges to try the new Amouage Library fragrances. Have a good weekend everyone.

Black pepper blues

Why the blues you ask? Well, I love black pepper in cooking - hardly a meal I cook or eat is without this now ubiquitous, but formerly precious, spice. Yet for some reason I find it a very difficult note to deal with in perfume. Not so much when it is well-blended with other spices, but when it is the primary focus of a fragrance. Two such perfumes with a heavy use of black pepper spring to mind, Piper Nigrum by Lorenzo Villoresi and Noir Epicee by Frederic Malle. Fragrantica list the notes for Piper Nigrum as watercress(!), mint, star anise, citrus and green notes, pepper, nutmeg, olibanum, petitgrain, clove, rosemary, spices, elemi resin, styrax, amber, benzoin, myrrh, peru balsam, virginia cedar and woodsy(!) notes. That's a list of notes for you! On my skin the top notes, in particular mint and citrus, are quite clear, and there is a definite greenness to it. However, after that it is predominantly a pepper scent on my skin and a lot of the other notes are lost. In fact, if I hadn't read this list, I probably would have identified very little other than perhaps the clove, incense and perhaps a touch of amber and myrrh. Piper Nigrum was one of the first perfumes I ever sampled and I've worn it quite a few times. It is a weird fragrance, strangely compelling, and the pepper is just bearable for me.

Noire Epicee's notes include nutmeg, cinnamon, clove, pepper, orange, geranium, sandalwood and patchouli. On my skin, this is a powerhouse of a pepper fragrance, dark, austere, severe, even melancholy, I find. It may seem strange, but I always feel every so slightly depressed wearing this. The spices are very intense, but ultimately, Noir Epicee smells to me like someone has savagely pounded a mortar-full of black peppercorns and rubbed the resultant powder all over me. I may like pepper, but I don't want to smell exactly like it. I have read that Noir Epicee has a chypre-like effect and I can see where this idea comes from. There is that austere effect that I often get from a dry chypre. I find Noir Epicee a challenge to wear, I really do, but I can certainly see people either loving or hating this. Try it for yourself. One thing is for sure, you won't be bored by it!

Image credit: product-image.tradeindia.com

Ormonde Jayne - Isfarkand

I haven't had much exposure to the Ormonde Jayne line. It seems to have some fervent fans, but doesn't appear to receive a lot of blog time. I won a sample of Isfarkand recently through a small competition I entered on Nathan Branch's website. The perfume notes, according to Ormonde Jayne's website, are lime, mandarin, bergamot, pink pepper, vetiver, cedar and moss. Looking at those notes one would be led to believe that this is a fairly conservative men's fragrance and yes, it turned out to that way for me, albeit with very high quality ingredients. But that is not necessarily a bad thing. Not all perfume has to be (or should be) weird or forceful. Sometimes it is just nice and comforting to encounter and wear a fragrance that is just well made, sophisticated and versatile. And that is exactly what Isfarkand is. On my skin it opened in a style reminiscent of French Lover, by Frederic Malle. There's loads of pink pepper, with an almost gunpowder-like aroma, along with some citrus that was spicy and green, more like galbanum than the normal bright citrus opening one very often expects. The cedar was very prominent on my skin quite early on and Isfarkand felt to me very dry, dusty almost. It was almost incense-like in style, with some subtle, herby notes in the background which may have been the vetiver and moss. The dry down was very pleasant,  woody and mossy, and was rather refined and restrained. I detected a smidgen of sweetness which I thought smelled like sandalwood, but I can't see the note listed, so perhaps I am wrong.

I think Isfarkand would be a perfect office scent, quite sophisticated and refined, very well made, but ultimately a touch boring for me. Nevertheless, there is nothing wrong with it and would make a perfect Fathers day gift I think. Not totally me, but certainly no dud either. 

A post about vetiver

Vetiver was one of the first perfume notes I fell in love with. When I first smelled its use in Guerlain Vetiver, I was shocked by its smell, but in a good way; I had never smelled anything like it before and I was smitten. I went on a bit of a vetiver bender for a while after that, gradually acquiring samples of Vetiver Extraordinaire by Editions De Parfums Frederic Malle, Route de Vetiver by Maitre Parfumeur Gantier and Turtle Vetiver by Les Nez. I have a number of other vetivers in my collection, but the ones I've mentioned here are probably my favourites. You'll notice that these ones are all better examples of the strength of the vetiver roots, rather than the grassiness or nuttiness that this plant can also convey and for me is my favourite manifestation of the note. Hermes Vetiver Tonka is a good example of the nutty accord one can exploit, while examples of grassiness include Creed's Original Vetiver and even Guerlain's gold standard, which is bolstered by nutmeg and tobacco. Another vetiver I adore and struggle to categorise is Sel de Vetiver, by The Different Company. Try it if you haven't already.

I want to write a bit more about Turtle Vetiver (TV) and Vetiver Extraordinaire (VE). I wore them side by side, one on each wrist. I was interested in comparing them because previously I thought they smelled quite similar. VE opens with a stunning wet, dark, earthy and rooty accord. The vetiver is strong and if you aren't a fan of vetiver, this might well be too much for you. For me it is one of the most wonderful openings in a perfume, unlike anything else I have ever encountered. This is no nutty, grassy or sweet vetiver. Rather, it smells like rotting, wet leaves on a damp, misty autumn day, but rotting in a good, natural way. This perfume always evokes autumn for me and it is my preferred season for wearing this. Compared to TV, once the initial blast has worn off, the vetiver stays much softer and earthier, with more of a plush, restrained feel. It's dark and musty, but not in the sense of a mouldering building, but vegetal and organic. I always think of earth, leaves and countryside when I wear this; a true outdoor scent. VE does become fairly linear from the middle onwards, but then, I find most vetiver-centered fragrances do. VE retains a surprisingly sophisticated air for such an outdoorsy fragrance and I think this is a work of genius by Dominique Ropion.

TV opens at a much higher pitch than VE. There is also a very high concentration of vetiver in this fragrance, but I find it cleaner and less earthy, with a more watery feel to it, but not in the sense of being weak, and definitely is not a marine fragrance. Its initial feel is more like Route de Vetiver I think. The vetiver here if anything gets stronger as the fragrance progresses and is for hard-core vetiver fans. It does brighten a little and despite its strength, I'm constantly reminded of a watery theme, like I'm smelling the roots submerged in a creek, but live roots, not decaying vegetal matter. Again, the progression later on is quite linear, although it does retain that wateriness and perhaps just a touch of salt. Perhaps there is an ambergris accord in here?

Side by side then, I think both VE and TV share a similarity in as much as both are very good examples of intense, vetiver-focused fragrances and both tend towards the root, rather than the grass. However, I think overall TV has the stronger vetiver note, while VE has a bit more sophistication about it and is earthier and has its roots firmly in woodland soil, while TV is of the waterways. Both are very well done and I would definitely recommend sampling them, particularly if you are a fan of vetiver, or interested in expanding your vetiver repertoire.

Vetiver Extraordinaire is a work of genius in my opinion and this (along with Musc Ravageur possibly) is the full-bottle-worthy fragrance in the Frederic Malle line, for me. I am generally quite lukewarm about the Les Nez line but Turtle Vetiver is very good and quite out of keeping with Isabelle Doyen's general work in my opinion.

Image Credit: www.vetiver.com

Muscs Koublai Khan and other musks

Perfume notes (from Luck Scent) - vegetal musks, costus root, labdanum, grey amber, vanilla, patchouli, ambrette seed, moroccan rose)

This is a post mainly about Muscs Koublai Khan by Serge Lutens. I am a huge fan of this line anyway, but have only sampled very few of the non-export line, which are only  available in Paris. Ok, I'm only across the channel, but first, I don't travel to France very often, and second, I am not inclined to spend £100-plus on an untried bottle. Having said that, each year a non-export perfume is released to the rest of the world on a limited edition basis. This way I have managed to at least sample Chergui and Fumerie Turque. In December 2009 Muscs Koublai Khan was also released this way and I was extremely excited, as out of all the Serge Lutens line, this seems to be the one that generates the most discussion on forums (incidentally, I have read that the non-export release for 2010 is going to be Cuir Mauresque!). 


So what about the reviews? I must admit, I find a lot of reviews of MKK quite amusing. So many of them play on the Mongol Warrior association and use the concept of dirty musk to describe MKK as smelling of circuses, a man's unwashed privates, sweaty saddles and horses, dust rising up off the steppes, and so on. It was fascinating to read, if a bit fanciful, but I also know that I am quite tolerant of 'skanky' perfumes in general and I don't usually find musk a challenge; I'm not anosmic to musk, I smell it well enough, it just doesn't smell that dirty or animalic to me. Having said that, I do know there is a distinction between the so-called 'dirty' musks and the 'clean' musks, of which the latter are often referred to as laundry musks. The whole area of musks is very complex and I don't have the technical skills to go into any detail. If you want to read an in-depth review of musks, please refer to Helg's blog, Perfume Shrine, here


The opening of MKK is quite bright, with a brief burst of what seems like citrus and a rose note that is immediately obvious to my nose. The musk is evident from the start and it is clear that this is not a clean musk; it is dusty and reminiscent of fur, but clean fur. There is an element to the musk though that feels (more than smells for some reason) of the steam that is released by an iron in a laundry room. Its a slight tickle or buzz at the back of the nose, ever so slightly metallic or ionic, just beneath the florals. The musk does intensify and if I'm in a particularly imaginative mood, I can probably make some association with mongol warriors and sweaty horses, but honestly, I don't find this particularly animalic or dirty like so many do. In the heart the rose note subsides and the musk becomes a bit dustier and drier. That furriness is still evident, which does give it a slight animalic edge but not overly so. The rose is still there, but very subtle and in the background. In the dry down MKK has become fairly linear - its still dry, dusty, slightly furry, perhaps a little sweetened by the vanilla. I'm not able to detect any patchouli, but it must be there, lending a somewhat animalic vibe. I still get that slightly fuzzy, ironing/laundry buzz, like freshly pressed clothes, which I assume must be some sort of musk in the mix, but the effect is not laundry-clean.


So, is MKK worth the hype? I think so, but perhaps not in the way it comes across on the boards. It definitely is not a clean musk fragrance, but neither is it the skank-fest other people find it to be, at least not for me. Generalisations notwithstanding, I have read that women often find musks to be stronger and more animalic than men (perhaps we are just stinky bastards) and perhaps its no coincidence that a lot of the posts I've read that describe MKK in hard-core skank terms are by women. In any event, whichever way you look at it, MKK is a very well-crafted fragrance and is worthy of the attention it receives, perhaps just not in the way its often portrayed.


So what about some other musks? To be honest, I find the so-called dirty musks more interesting than the cleaner, laundry-type musks and the following are ones that might tickle your fancy:


Musc Ravageur by Editions de Parfums Frederic Malle - sultry, sweet, musky and loaded with sexual frisson, this is a musk for a night on the town, with a bit of naughty loving afterwards!


Musk Reinvention by CH I Hate Perfume - I haven't tried this personally but I have read that it is quite an intense musk, albeit somewhat linear.


Horny Little Devil by Smell Bent - this is quite a quirky one. Its a perfume oil, and is quite a insidious musk, striding the line between well behaved and ever so slightly kinky. An unusual twist is its mix of pepper and chocolate, the chocolate making this reminiscent of Musc Maori by Parfumerie Generale.


So, if any of you can think of some other musk perfumes that are dirty, skanky, sweaty, lusty, or whatever, please drop me a line and let me know!