Violet: 39 posts

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

I might be influenced by the description of Frédéric Malle Lipstick Rose noting that Ralf Schwieger’s aim was to create a scent conjuring a woman who is half Gilda, half Silvana Mangano, but every time I put it on I envision Mangano, a sultry voluptuous Italian actress singing “Hay! Tengo ganas de bailar Un nuevo compas…” in her film from 1951 “Anna”. Intended to imitate the old-fashioned scent of lipstick, Lipstick Rose (2000) is indeed a fragrance that makes me want to pull out my tube of Chanel Coco Red. The blend of roses and violets exudes a classic femininity and elegance. It is not a fragrance that is sultry in the sense of Guerlain Nahéma or Serge Lutens Tubéreuse Criminelle, however it is unmistakably an alluring scent. It is slightly powdery initially, however the powderiness lightens once vetiver lends its earthy note. Raspberry note is quite obvious in the drydown, and it saturates the base with a sweet glow. Lipstick Rose is hardly a modern take on a rose, however occasionally it strikes me that its vintage image borders on self-conscious.

L’Artisan Parfumeur Drôle de Rose (1996), provides a similar treatment of the rose, ornamenting it with violet and raspberry. Between these two, I would choose Lipstick Rose, because its richness makes the vintage reference quite appealing, whereas in the case of Drôle de Rose, the less voluptuous body leads to an overwhelming powdery sweetness.

Photo: Silvana Mangano (1921-1989), actress of Italy’s neo-realistic period.

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

Chris Sheldrake and Serge Lutens created Bois de Violette in 1992, inaugurating the stint of Serge Lutens as a leading figure of the perfume line for Shiseido at Les Salons du Palais Royal. There is a tendency both to relegate cedar to the masculine, while violet to the feminine domains. One is sharp, resinous and potent, another is soft, modest and sentimental. Yet, Bois de Violette blurs these conventional distinctions so effectively that it cannot but be appreciated for this reason alone. Of course, the ingenuity and the beauty of the composition is another reason to sample this fragrance.

The top notes settle into a mélange of violet leaves with their fresh cut grass scent and soft white cedar, which gradually allows a clear violet note to appear. At first, it is just a glimpse of violet, misted over by sweet and resinous notes, however, the adagio of violet gathers force and takes the center stage. Cedar in Bois de Violette acts like corps de ballet in Marius Petipa choreographed pieces, in which dancers in the background hold same poses for long stretches of time, with minor permutations, thus providing an essential backdrop, without which the ethereal beauty cannot be achieved. The violet is sweet enough to temper resinous notes of cedar, while cedar, in turn, prevents it from becoming a confection-type or powdery violet. It stays close to the skin, creating an olfactory vision of opalescent silk.

Photo: Swan Lake by St. Petersburg’s Ballet Theater. arts-world.co.uk. Swan Lake is an example of classical Petipa choreography.

N’Aimez Que Moi

In 1917, Ernest Daltroff creates a fragrance that captured the promises made by the couples separated by the WWI to remain loyal and to await the return of the loved ones from the front. N’Aimez Que Moi was the name given to  this new perfume by Caron. “Love Only Me!” Alas, it is not a promise I can make. While undoubtedly beautiful, N’Aimez Que Moi is too heavy and powdery even for this fan of makeup-like notes in perfume. The top notes are of creamy rose and violet intertwined with soft lilac. The lush floral bouquet is wrapped in sandalwood and cedar, with an accent of earthy vetiver and iris. Unfortunately, that’s when the fragrance becomes unbearably powdery and opaque, and N’Aimez Que Moi and I part ways.

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Guerlain Après l’Ondée was created by Jacques Guerlain in 1906.  I loved this scent right away for its wonderfully delicate combination of orange blossom and violet, tinged with a spicy anise note.

The first accord is reminiscent of a spring garden after a tempestuous May shower as the damp earth, drenched leaves and flowers begin to warm up under the sun. The aura of this fragrance is effervescent, innocent and joyous. But there is a dark timbre to Après l’Ondée as well. It is similar to the moment after the rain is over; the sun is shining, yet the clouds still cast somber shadows upon the landscape. The heart blossoms with iris and violet, which much to my delight, is a departure from the traditionally sweet candy-like violet notes. The carnation is subdued and merely adds a spicy ornament. The dry down is smooth and tender, with the sugared almond, vanilla and musk lending it an abstract gourmand sensation. Après l’Ondée is a garden in the first flush of bloom, yet to reveal all of its secrets.

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