Big Sillage: 77 posts

I love Amouage, a unique perfume house that has created some of the best fragrances in the niche category. Amouage Gold is not just a grand parfum, it’s one of the best perfume symphonies.  The Jubilation duet blends wistful loveliness with edgy glamour. Wearing both Lyric perfumes, I finally grasp how it is that ‘bold and dramatic’ can also be ‘elegant and suave.’  Homage Attar transforms the lavish Middle Eastern oud and rose idea into a wearable but nevertheless sumptuous variation. Interlude, on the other hand, leaves me cold.

The fragrance opens with a sharp green, leafy note that smells at once like paint thinner and lawn clippings. It’s a bold move to overdose a fragrance with this rough and raspy note, and for a while it keeps my interest. After all, the diesel fumes that crown the top of Serge Lutens Tubéreuse Criminelle are similarly hard on the nose, but it feels like a natural part of the tuberose in the composition. Here, the green notes layered over the woods and incense feel jarring.

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‘Please see my review of Viktor & Rolf Flowerbomb‘ — this is how I originally started my post on the newest Lancôme perfume La Vie Est Belle. This big Lancôme launch takes a lesson from its flop Magnifique and does everything by the book: a fetching package (check), something pink (check) and a safe, easy to like perfume (check). It’s even better if you tag on a well-known spokesperson (check, Julia Roberts looks gorgeous in the ads).

While my initial reaction was to dismiss La Vie Est Belle as another copycat, after wearing it for the past couple of weeks I’m not so sure what I think. The citrusy top notes laced with tangy raspberries were facile, but addictive, while the gourmand drydown tempered by earthy iris was surprisingly mellow.  I readied myself for another cheap fruit compote, but I discovered a trendy and likable perfume. I would have had an easier time making up my mind if it smelled cheap, but it doesn’t.

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Chanel Coco Mademoiselle (2001), currently the USA’s top selling women’s fragrance, has little to do with the 1984 Coco fragrance it allegedly flanks. One isn’t related to the other, except from a marketing standpoint that has Coco Mademoiselle positioned to sell to young women and Coco aimed at an older crowd. Coco Mademoiselle is a patchouli scent that belongs to the species of Thierry Mugler Angel, the groundbreaking 1992 fruit and patchouli techno-gourmand that was responsible for many spin-offs, some of them flops and some of them, like Coco Mademoiselle, bestsellers.

The notes of Coco Mademoiselle–rose, jasmine, patchouli, lychee, orange, grapefruit, vetiver, vanilla, and musk–say absolutely nothing about the scent. It’s not possible to imagine what it smells like from that roster. So many of these notes are rendered completely abstract that what really jumps out is a greenish, herbal patchouli over which have been melted vanilla and the type of fruit syrups used to flavor water.

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I might as well admit it, I originally disliked Chanel Coco.  I will be up front about that because now I won’t be separated from it. Coco is a good case for retesting a fragrance:  more compliments have come my way with Coco than with any other fragrance. Although created almost 30 years ago in 1984, Coco is far from being dated. It is an outgoing, definite statement scent, not a wallflower. It is a fragrance from the time when women adopted a signature perfume as bold style accessories. Consider Coco an adornment, a piece of jewelry, the finishing touch.

Classic Chanel scents reveal themselves through mists of aldehydes that always to my nose make a Chanel perfume smell high concept.  They are tailored even when they are meant to be sexy, as is the case with Coco.  The top notes are bright and brassy with ripe, fruity aldehydes, mandarin peel, and macerated raisins.  These notes ignite as if flambéed.

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A man at the outdoor market where I shop each Friday cuts melons to entice customers. He lays out a colorful platter that looks like a Byzanthine mosaic of golden cantaloupe slivers, opalescent musk melon cubes, with an occasional splash of watermelon red. The colors makes me wish that I had a big pile of summer dresses in these shades, but it’s the scent that makes me bring home more fruit than the two of us can possibly eat. The perfume of ripe melon has an almost tangible quality, and its musky sweetness is so seductive, I feel lightheaded.

Yet, as much as I love melons, when I hear that a perfume contains this note, I approach it with caution. Too many melon fragrances have crossed my path that smelled either too sweet, too artificial or both. For this reason, it took me a very long time to try Parfums DelRae Emotionnelle.

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