5 stars: 115 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.

Eau de Toilette

There are some fragrances that one cannot forget, even if for one reason or another, the love affair is suspended, and the bottle is not replaced. When I moved to the US, my perfume bottles were left at the old apartment and, alas, never retrieved. Cristalle was one of them. And then recently I stopped by a Chanel counter and reached for the slim oblong bottle. As the mist fell upon my skin, I was immediately swayed by its luminous clarity. Of course, I had to have a bottle right away.

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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.

Original:

Reformulation:

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

“And only dreamed imagination Had drowned in the empty dark Its flitting visions’ pale reflections, The soul fancy’s easy mark?” Aleksandr Sergeievich Pushkin

Carnation blossoms thickly overlaid with wintergreen and dusky bitter notes. It captures a moment before autumns falls into the winter and winter into the spring, a sense of something new and unsettling in the air. Its combination of earthy vetiver and nostalgic iris makes me think of fin de siècle parks filled with marble statues. A rich veil of chrysanthemum-like bitterness—a smell of leaves rubbed between fingers as one passes through the overgrown brambles absentmindedly caressing remaining flowers—folds over the composition. Created in 1948 by Francis Fabron, Nina Ricci L’Air du Temps was one of my mother’s favorite fragrances.

Fast forward to the present. I lift the beautiful lid of intertwining doves off the bottle, spray the content on my arm and… Nothing happens, other than a whisper of something barely resembling the old beauty. It is faceless, utterly forgettable, filled with light and likable notes that together do not sing. If my grandmother’s bottle of L’Air du Temps is still preserved, I will wear it, otherwise I am not going near the reformulated version.

Poem: Aleksandr Sergeievich Pushkin (1799-1837), a greatest Russian poet of Romantic period. The excerpt is taken from “To the Fountain Of the Palace Of the Bakchisarai.”

Photo: Pushkin’s favorite statue in Tsarkoe Selo, a town near St. Petersburg, which was Russian tzars’ summer residence. Pushkin studied in the town’s Lyceum from 1811 to 1817.

Original:

Reformulation:

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

“Crack of the Whip” is a name befitting this outstanding Caron creation. After the sharp burst of pepper, the chill of floral notes ornamented by spicy iridescence begins to unravel. Carnation blossoms out of the spicy tulle and grows more and more voluptuous and sweet, before suddenly bursting into a layers and layers of sweet and translucent petals. As quickly as carnation appears, the next wave brings an additional layer of spicy warmth. It fuses the elements of the composition together, adding sweetness where it was lacking and smoothing the spicy edges before they start to burn. After the carnation petals are swept away by the warm breath, the sweet smoky notes of incense start to swirl in delicate patterns. Opoponax (sweet myrrh) is what lends a subtly sweet, balsamic quality to the dry down, forcing flowers to lose their demure quality and peppers to freeze into an intricate spicy balance.

Those who are afraid of Caron’s darkness and now-unfashionable mossiness should explore Coup de Fouet, which is a wonderful example of why classical compositions can withstand the ever changeable fashion. It is refined without being aloof and timeless without being dated. A true Caron gem! However, please give the top notes a chance to perform their transformations before making a verdict.

Poivre is the extrait de parfum version of Coup De Fouet, and as expected, it is richer and more cerebral. It takes longer to make its acquaintance, with the sweet incense notes I liked being darker and more vibrant contrast with the rest of the composition. Both were created by Michel Morsetti in 1954.

Notes: red pepper, black pepper, giroflore, carnation, ylang ylang, opoponax, sandalwood, vetiver, oakmoss.

On Reformulation (March 2011):

Wearing the original Poivre is an exhilarating experience that can only be compared to biting into a black peppercorn crust atop steak au poivre. The spicy rose underscoring the fiery pepper and woods lent the composition a certain dark vision of glamor. The current version is more pink than crimson, and as such, its beauty has been lost. The cinnamon, clove and pepper notes are quite attenuated, with the final result verging on bland. Coup de Fouet is the Eau de Toilette version of Poivre and it is even thinner.