New Perfume Launches: 161 posts

The moment I set my foot in lands where jasmine blooms, I find a flower to smell–a single blossom, a sprig, a garland. I think that I know exactly what jasmine smells like, but every soil makes for a different scent. Jasmine in Provence has an apricot nuance. Indian jasmine smells leathery. Spanish jasmine has a cinnamon inflection in the afternoon and a simmering musky warmth in the evening. Indonesian jasmine is green and sweet, the most unexpected combination. Smelling Hermès’s Cèdre Sambac, I wonder where the perfumer Christine Nagel found an inspiration for such a creamy yet transparent impression.

Nagel says that the inspiration for the five new Hermessences came from the Middle East. Jasmine attars from that part of the world have a certain richness that can be either opulent or smothering, depending on the attar-blender’s skill and the perfume lover’s capacity for jasmine. Cèdre Sambac, however, is all glow.

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The next big Chanel launch is a collection of three perfumes, Les Eaux de Chanel. Like Les Exclusifs, they are inspired by places that were meaningful to Chanel. Perfumer Olivier Polge has selected three destinations, Deauville, Venice and Biarritz, and created three stories around them. All three are meant to explore fresh and effervescent notes, but they play with different characters and effects. I will share more detailed reviews as I test the perfumes carefully, and for now just a few general notes the collection.

PARIS-DEAUVILLE

Gabrielle Chanel opened her first boutique in Deauville on the Normandy coast in 1912.

“More than the actual reality of the destination, I liked the idea urbanites make of it when they dream of a
weekend away in the country. I wasn’t striving to capture the Normandy countryside as it stands today, but rather
the promise of a stroll through the tall grasses.” Olivier Polge

The fragrance is green, with the brightness of bitter orange rind, petitgrain and basil leaves. It’s accented with rose and jasmine, but the drydown has a layer of patchouli that gives it a chypre-like impression.

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When I first heard of the new Hermessence collection, with its ouds and myrrhs, I was apprehensive. The previous additions to the line were all sheer, opaline and ethereal, and I couldn’t see how Middle Eastern inspiration could continue the same aesthetic. As it turns out, I underestimated Christine Nagel, the current in-house perfumer for Hermès, because Agar Ebène, Cèdre Sambac, Myrrhe Églantine, Cardamusc and Musc Pallida have the radiance that gives the house’s perfumes its distinctive quality. They also have curves and sensuality.

Myrrhe Églantine is the most classical of the five new Hermessence fragrances and the one that pays the most homage to an existing perfume, Rose Ikebana. Created by Jean-Claude Ellena, Rose Ikebana was one of the most underrated gems from the collection. Yes, it’s a pretty, fizzy rose, but it also had a level of precision and refinement that few other fresh roses possess. Myrrhe Églantine plays with the same shimmering effects, but it sets the rose against a velvety background.

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My saris are my personal archaeological layers. The turquoise and saffron one was bought from a market in Pune on my very first trip to India. The magenta one with the border of gold thread woven into the peacock pattern came from a cavernous shop in Gujarat, where I sat in a hot daze surrounded by towering stacks of silks. The hot pink one with the silver embroidery was a nod to Mumbai fashions circa 2005 picked up on a whim, along with matching bangles. The sienna and orange one was given to me on my wedding day by my parents-in-law.

My saris live in a box and I wear them only when I’m in India. Here, in Belgium, they don’t feel right. A sari needs the context–the music, the movement, the heat, the chaos of an Indian wedding. So I spread them out on the furniture to enjoy their colors, but I drape myself in a sari-like perfume of layers and folds. Like Neela Vermeire’s Niral, for instance.

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Spring is the time when I crave to make a change–and when it seems that anything can be possible. I make plans to visit new places, learn new things, read more widely, research a completely new topic like Renaissance cuisine or Leonard Foujita’s paintings or the poetry of the late Tang period. I similarly want to push my horizons with new scents.

Neela Vermeire Niral

A chord of violet powder and rose petals, Niral starts as a flower fit for a Victorian corsage, but beneath the softness and candied violet sweetness lies the darkness of sandalwood. A cool touch of angelica, one of the materials that currently intrigues me, gives a sleek shape to this opulent composition. A blood relative of Mohur, the other plush perfume from Neela Vermeire’s line, and also of L’Artisan Parfumeur Traversée du Bosphore. Created by Bertrand Duchaufour, who is able to interpret the French-Indian vision of the house’s founder without recourse to cliches.

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