Leather: 44 posts

As I have learned, Yves Saint Laurent Kouros, created by Pierre Bourdon in 1981, is a controversial fragrance, with opinions ranging from absolute devotion to utter repulsion. A few encounters revealed why it might be the case. The opening notes tingle with camphorous eucalyptus and tart bergamot, spreading out in cool waves on the skin. The rich fougère composition is ornamented by mace, bay leaf and sage, which lend a spicy edge. Soapy quality becomes more pronounced the longer the fragrance remains on the skin, calling to mind Blue Irish Spring soap. Between the top and the base, the composition is sustained as fresh and almost marine, layered with soapy notes.

When you are completely lulled into thinking that it is a gentle, unoffensive fragrance that might work on both men and women, then curious and disconcerting transformations begin to take place. First, it is just a whiff of something sweet and plastic redolent. Sweet and soapy note later, the composition evolves slowly, but after about an hour, the smell of civet starts to emerge. Have you ever smelled civet full strength? Without using more colorful terminology, I would describe it as extremely fecal. The same note comprises the base of Kouros, and while it is not exactly dominant, its animalic breath suffuses the composition fully. Combined with the fact that it is extremely sweet on me, the drydown is not exactly appealing.

The end result is odd, which is why I wore Kouros in the privacy of my home on more than one occasion trying to decide whether I am repulsive or amused by it. Even though I cross olfactory gender boundaries often, I decided to sample Kouros on a man to determine whether it might register differently. This little experiment led to the fact that my thus far compliant test subject rebelled and protested against any further fragrance tests on him. In other words, despite its unique and brazen structure, I would rather admire Kouros’ unconventionality from a distance. However, I would love to hear opinions of those who wear and love this fragrance, because as I understand it has quite a following.

Notes: Aldehydes, Artemesia, Bergamot oil, Clary Sage oil, Coriander, Laurel, Carnation, Cinnamon, Geranium, Jasmin, Orris, Patchouli, Vetiver, Amber, Civet, Honey, Leather, Moss, Musk, Tonka, Vanilla.

Star rating: 5 stars–outstanding/potential classic, 4 stars–very good, 3 stars–adequate, 2 stars–disappointing, 1 star–poor.

Frédéric Malle Le Parfum de Thérèse was created by Edmond Roudnitska, one of the most influential perfumers, the nose behind Rochas Femme, Diorella, Diorissimo and Dior Eau Sauvage among others. According to Frédéric Malle’s site, Le Parfum de Thérèse was composed in 1960s by Mr. Roudnitska for his wife, Thérèse. Upon the death of the master perfumer in the 1996, his wife allowed for the fragrance to be released to the public through Frédéric Malle.

Le Parfum de Thérèse is one of my favorites from the collection. The burst of sunny mandarin is followed by tart sweetness that reminds me of cantaloupe. A dry note of pepper softens the sweet fruity accord before green, yet animalic jasmine reveals itself. It is faint at first, however it becomes deeper over time. Roudnitska’s treatment of indoles–perfume materials that smell of decay and moth balls–in jasmine is fascinating. By amplifying the dark notes, he creates a genuinely sensual fragrance that straddles the fine line between seduction and repulsion.

While jasmine intensifies, violet and rose swirl out of the spicy green plum accords in the middle notes. The entire composition rests on a dry leathery base touched by earthy notes of vetiver. A fragrance both seductive and elegant, it unfolds gently on the skin, never failing to surprise me. I find something new in it every time I wear it.

Photo: Auguste Rodin, Fugit Amor (before 1887), marble, Musée Rodin, Paris. Photo by E. & P. Hesmerg.

If anyone could make an animalic fragrance radiant and dream-like, it would be Olivia Giacobetti. Originally called Désir de Cirque, Circus Desire, when it debuted in 1999, Dzing ! is a fragrance inspired by the circus ring, the smell of the talcum, animal fur and candy apples. As if by a crack of a whip, tarry and balsamic notes spring forth, creating a leather accord against which rose suddenly appears. The effect is simply bizarre, but memorable, setting a perfect stage for a more tranquil undulation of sweet and resinous notes that combine into multifaceted chords, one moment of hammy lapsang souchong and cinnamon, next vanillic sweetness of benzoin and balmy complexity of musks.

A vaguely familiar note keeps hiding underneath, teasing my memory and conjuring visions of stage. I have not been to the circus in ages, but a rosin box in the corner of my ballet studio is a fresh enough recollection. Rosin is used by musicians on bows to produce a better sound and by dancers to prevent satin pointe shoes from slipping on the floor. The scent of this brittle grey resin, a by-product of turpentine distillation, is what lurks underneath animalic notes, lending a strangely ethereal quality to the base. Like Toulouse-Lautrec’s paintings of seedy Montmartre corners, Dzing! has a certain juxtaposition of oddity and fascination. It would be daring and arresting on a woman, and wonderfully sensual on a man.

Painting: Henri de Toulouse-Lautrec, Trick rider at the Fernando Circus. 1887-8. The Art Institute of Chicago.

Ernest Daltroff (1870-1941), a great perfumer and founder of Parfums Caron, must have been quite a character and also a man of great marketing vision. When smoking became appropriate for women after WWI, in 1919, he promptly created Tabac Blond. It was a fragrance that would imitate the scent of  blond tobacco, thus, placing a cigarette among the accoutrement of a chic Parisian woman.

Although I find nothing chic about smoking, Tabac Blond never fails to make me feel like someone effortlessly glamorous, outfitted in black satin, long gloves and pearls, with lips varnished crimson red. The elegance of this perfume is suggested by the unique combination of leather, tobacco leaf and vanilla. It is a dry fragrance, with a strong smoky note that initially reminds me of smoldering pinecones. This impression is pleasant one, and as the notes meld into unique dry leather composition, the warmth of amber fills the outlines of the composition. A smoky vanilla note makes its entrance relatively soon and adds a welcome touch of sweetness. A fragrance that is not traditionally feminine, Tabac Blond is a great choice for someone who is confident and daring (or at least wants to appear this way.)

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