5 stars: 115 posts

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

Among the fragrances André Fraysse created, none can rival Arpège, which the perfumer composed in 1927 for the French couturier Jeanne Lanvin, in collaboration with Paul Vacher.  Scandal (1932), Rumeur (1932), and Pretexte (1937) followed after the success of Arpège. Jeanne Lanvin dedicated Arpège to her musician daughter, Marie-Blanche, who picked the name for the fragrance.

The original 1927 formulation of Arpège is true to its name–a musical concept of arpeggio–in a sense that individual notes are played distinctly one after another instead of simultaneously. Rose dusted by opalescent aldehydic shimmer unfolds first, followed by rich jasmine.

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

Some fragrances are admirable from a distance (Yves Saint Laurent Opium), being masterfully composed, yet only marginally wearable. However, there is a category of fragrances that are beautiful from any perspective. Chanel Bois des Iles is one such composition, in which every element is just perfect and every facet is stunning.

It is said that Ernest Beaux, a Russian émigré, was inspired by “The Queen of Spades,” when he created Bois des Iles in 1926. “The Queen of Spades” (La Dame de Pique) is an opera by Tchaikovsky, based on Aleksandr Pushkin’s story of love and obsession. Bois des Iles is a scent that awakens my nostalgic yearnings. Its beauty has the same melancholy effect as a walk through the autumnal forest—the soft light diffused through the golden canopy of branches, the bittersweet scent of decaying leaves, the awareness of the autumnal transience.

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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.

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

Prompted by a question about a fragrance I would associate with Matisse, I began to reflect on what perfume would capture the strength of the lines, the vibrancy of the colors, the alluring delicacy of the finished composition as well as the Mediterranean feel pervading his works. If there is one fragrance that contains all of these elements, it must be Jean Patou Vacances.

Vacances was created in 1936, alluding to the introduction of the first paid holidays in France. Its vibrant spicy opening shimmers like sun rays hitting the water, before rich greenness softens the sizzle of carnation. Galbanum with its scent of sliced green peppers is a perfect counterpoint to the wave of honeyed powderiness that emerges next. The breath of lilac wafts in like a scent carried by the wind through an open window. At first, it merely teases, weaving gently through the heart of the composition, until finally it solidifies, resting on a soft musky base. The colors of the composition are hardly subtle—the intense verdancy of hyacinth and galbanum, the dark powderiness of mimosa, the rich sweetness of lilac. Yet, the resulting fragrance is a perfect juxtaposition of delicate peppery and green sap notes folding into honeyed sweetness. In my romanticized vision of a town on the Mediterranean coast, this is the scent that would be filling the air.

Painting: Henri Matisse. Woman before Aquarium. 1921. Oil on canvas. Barnes Foundation, Lincoln University, Merion, PA. Thank you for a great question goes to my painter friend Laura, whose site is such an inspiration for me.