Susan Irvine: Of Spies and Scatter Cushions

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Post by Anne-Marie

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There is so much online information about perfume these days that books, especially slightly older ones like these two by Susan Irvine, may seem redundant. But there is still much pleasure to be had from holding a well-produced book in your hands, and from being in the presence of a knowledgeable writer who can convey a love of her subject.

Susan Irvine: Book Reviews

9781854104458-us

Susan Irvine: Perfume: The Creation and Allure of Classic Fragrances

Susan Irvine is a journalist and writer who specialised in perfume and fashion for many years. Her book Perfume: The Creation and Allure of Classic Fragrances is a broad sweep across the history of perfume and its production, presentation and marketing. I confess I have only marginal interest in the chemistry of scent, and the production of raw materials. Irvine covers these subjects admirably, but her chapters on how perfume is promoted fascinated me the most.

‘Selling perfume’, she writes, ‘is about selling something indefinable, invisible and covetable: glamour.’ So the philosophy, the brief, the bottle design, the name, the advertising and the launch party are all about creating desire for a slice of this glamour.

Irvine herself is apparently a veteran of many a launch party. ‘Concorde is the journalists’ equivalent of a school bus for transatlantic events’, she writes, laconically. ‘If it’s Monday, it must be the Paris Opéra, filled with 8,000 Casablanca lilies for the re-launch of Yves Saint Laurent’s Y.’ On Thursday its Giorgio Armani’s Giò in Manhattan … and so on. For the haps and mishaps of the launch of Dior’s Dune in Biarritz, you will have to read the book!

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Susan Irvine: The Perfume Guide

By contrast, The Perfume Guide is a guide to individual (mostly feminine) perfumes, arranged in families: floral, fruity, herbaceous, chypre, and oriental. It’s always fun to ‘look up’ one’s favourites (and ‘scrubbers’) in books like this to see what the author makes of them. Funny also to note discontinued gems, like All About Eve by Joop!, and obscurities like Smell This by James Berard (what? who?).

By 2000, when this book came out, niche perfume was starting to make a difference, so works by L’Artisan, Diptyque, Annick Goutal and Serge Lutens are mentioned. But of course the great classics are there too: Chanel No 5, Guerlain Shalimar, Lanvin Arpège, Patou Joy. ‘It’s impossible to imagine Chanel No 19 on a badly dressed woman’, Irvine proclaims, making me bite my lip and shuffle my feet in scuffed shoes.

If you have ever wondered where that great comment about Rive Gauche came from – ‘what KGB agents would have worn to seduce James Bond’ – it is Irvine’s. Dana Tabu is ‘for women who wear their knickers on their heads’. But my favourite is this remark on Elizabeth Taylor’s White Diamonds, one of the best-selling perfumes of all time:
‘For women who are not afraid of scatter cushions’.

Both books are out of print, but are still available from online second-hand book sellers.
Susan Irvine, Perfume: the creation and allure of classic fragrances (Haldane Mason Ltd, 1995).
Susan Irvine: The Perfume Guide (Haldane Mason, 2000).

 

White Lilac by Mary Chess 1932

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Post by Anne-Marie

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A while ago a generous perfume penpal sent me a sample of Mary Chess’s White Lilac. I liked it, but nothing about it struck me very forcibly. Maybe this was because the lilac in my own garden had just finished, and there were roses, jasmine and gardenia on the way. Wisteria was blossoming in public gardens near where I work. I was surrounded by natural floral scents and perhaps I didn’t need another at that moment.

With summer flowers now gone, I spritzed it again and was delighted at last by the fresh, spring-in-a-bottle aroma that leapt joyfully out of the sample vial.

White Lilac by Mary Chess 1932

White Lilac Mary Chess EbayeBay

Fragrantica gives these featured accords:
Lilac, wisteria, lily-of-the-valley and musk.

Information about Grace Mary Robinson, née Chess, is scanty and inconsistent, but she was an American woman who, after her marriage in 1907, moved with her husband between London and the US. She loved flowers and in what sounds like a hobby turned into a business, she sold flowers she made herself from metal, clay and parchment. She also created perfumes and White Lilac was the first of many mostly single-note perfumes released between 1932 (some sources say 1930) and the 1990s. She died in 1964.

Chess must have understood perfume as a lifestyle commodity. She sold scented sachets, smelling salts, and even a scented paste that could be painted on the inside of drawers and cupboards. She experimented with charming bottle designs, including a bottle for every chess piece, from a King to a pawn. A chess piece became the symbol of Mary’s flourishing business.

You might think that she was more interested in the decorative and lifestyle aspects of perfume than the actual scent, but White Lilac was popular for many years. Perfume historian Nigel Groom says it was once named as one of the eight great perfumes of the world.

White Lilac Mary Chess Lilacs strecosa PixabayPixabay

If so, perhaps it was because it offered an alternative to other best-sellers like Chanel No 5, Arpege and Evening in Paris. It is an innocent, rather dainty fragrance with little overt sexual allure, once sometimes marketed to brides. It works best in the opening hour or so, after which it becomes paler and less interesting. That probably just encouraged women to carry it about and spritz again, for the opening is indeed gloriously vivid. I smell mostly lilac and wisteria, green, but also slightly round and fruity.

There are some reviews on Fragrantica and Basenotes. One Fragrantician exclaims:
How can a 50 year old scent smell so fresh and alive? The lilacs are blooming right here in my bedroom.

White Lilac Mary Chess lil_white_goth_grl_mjranum_stock Deviant artDeviantArt

I don’t know when White Lilac was discontinued but you still see it on auction sites. Mary Chess has gone now, but undemanding floral fragrances never really go out of style. These days several of the niche houses charge dearly for them.

Is this your style of fragrance? Have you tried anything from Mary Chess?

Perfume: A Century of Scents by Lizzie Ostrom

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Post by Anne-Marie

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I am fussy about perfume books because there are some terrible ones out there. But slowly I’ve built up a little library and I thought I might share some impressions of one of my favourites.

Perfume: A Century of Scents by Lizzie Ostrom

perfume-a-century-of-scents-lizzie-ostrom Book DepositoryBook Depository (AUD$28.45 Delivered)

You may know Lizzie Ostrom as Odette Toilette, a British-based speaker and commentator on fragrance history and culture: a ‘purveyor of olfactory adventures’. Her book is a tour of the twentieth century via 100 mini-essays on perfumes which ‘have something to say’, as Lizzie puts it, in their own times and often in ours. The book begins with Houbigant’s Le Parfum Idéal (1900) and ends with Demeter’s Dirt (1996).

Lizzie’s selection is not always based on perfumes which have survived until today. You’ll find plenty you have not heard about because although there is coverage of many fine and expensive masterpieces of ‘olfactory art’, there is also an emphasis on mass market perfumes which tell us a lot about what ordinary people actually wore, once upon a time.

So among the great Guerlains, Carons, Chanels and Lauders you’ll find (ahem) Climax by Sears (1900), a ‘mail order perfume’ costing 25 cents ($7 today), and Dri-Perfume (1944) by J.L. Priess, a strongly scented powder produced when war conditions restricted the availability of cosmetic alcohol.

Unusually, the book is not lavishly illustrated, coffee-table style. It contains no vintage ads, just simple, charming line drawings. Lizzie finds context not in images but in literature, movies and popular culture. This for me is pure fascination. Lizzie has, I swear (because I’ve been there), spent many, many hours in libraries poring over magazines and newspapers so as to understand the cultural context of each perfume. Her essays are not reviews, but a series of rich and original insights based on this research.

Lancome’s Magie Noire (1978), for instance, is described as ‘the wiccan perfume’. Its release made the most of counter-cultural interest in spells, tarot reading, cults and drugs. The Wicker Man – do you remember the film? Yes! So of course it makes sense that Magie Noire became an instant classic.

Then there is Jean Desprez’s Bal à Versailles (1962) and the film Chitty Chitty Bang Bang (1968). What?! But yes – remember the Baron and Baroness Bomburst of Vulgaria, absurdly dressed in ermine and knee breeches, dripping with diamonds? The pure silliness of it all is a perfect match with the faux-opulent eighteenth century-style bottle and the gloriously vulgar scent that is Bal à Versailles.

Meanwhile Jōvan Musk Oil (1972) brings forth memories of the cheesy crooners of the era, especially Demis Roussos in full kaftan and comb-over. Yeesh!

A word for Shalimar lovers: sorry, but your idol is not here. This does not offend me but I do think it odd, Shalimar being one of the most loved and influential perfumes ever.

Perfume: a century of scents by Lizzie Ostrom (Hutchison, 2015) is available as a hardback for US $26.95 and in Kindle for $15. Check out Lizzie’s website

Five Reasons You Don’t Need To Buy Niche

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Post by Anne-Marie

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Caution being my middle name, I was never tremendously adventurous in sampling niche fragrances, even at the best of times. Now that it’s the worst of times (a low Aussie dollar and much higher shipping costs), I’m not buying niche at all.

But a tight budget forces you back on your own resources: if you apply a bit of cleverness and an open mind, it is amazing the treasures you can find amongst the stuff cluttering up the shelves and inventories of mainstream sellers and discounters.

Here are five inexpensive (well under $AUD 100) options to try if you are looking for fragrances that are off-beat, avant-garde, or beautiful in an inexplicably un-beautiful sort of way.

Five Reasons You Don’t Need To Buy Niche

Molinard Habanita FragranticaFragrantica

Molinard Habanita (perfumer unknown, 1921)

Towering in its originality, Habanita is so weird it never smells dated. Although famous for its association with cigarettes, tobacco is not listed as a note in Habanita. I get dirty leather, vanilla, jammy fruit, and vetiver. Florals? I suppose so, but I don’t smell them.

Femme Rochas 2013 FragranticaFragrantica

Rochas Femme (Edmond Roudnitska, 1943)

Chypres smell ‘niche’ because they are not fashionable for the mall customer any more. Femme is a meltingly beautiful fruity chypre, often likened to Guerlain’s Mitsouko but less austere and much easier to wear. I prefer the post-1989 reformulation to the vintage versions I’ve tried.

Bvlgari Black FragranticaFragrantica

Bvlgari Black (Annick Mernado, 1998)

Like Habanita, Black is famous for a note it does not possess: tyre rubber. Black is mainly leather, vanilla and smoky tea. Comforting, edgy, and so alluring. Someone should write a novel where the main character wears Black. Would they be male or female? You decide.

Estee Lauder Knowing FragranticaFragrantica

Estee Lauder Knowing (Elie Roger, 1998)

Lauder is so mainstream you can buy it anywhere. If Lauder could establish a counter on the moon, it would. This makes it all the more wonderful that Knowing is still in the line-up. It’s a rose chypre so intelligent, so commanding and so dark that the best way to wear it is not with a pencil skirt and stilettos – for that would be too predictable now – but with jeans and a simple cotton shirt.

Lalique Encre Noire FRagranticaFragrantica

Lalique Encre Noire (Nathalie Lorson, 2006)

Encre Noire is a crisp, nothing-to-hide vetiver. You might find it linear and one-dimensional. Or, conversely, you might love that it takes ease and good taste for granted. It needs confidence to pull off something as apparently simple as this.

It was easy to think of five examples of ‘alternative to niche’. I could easily rattle off more, but I’m interested in hearing your ideas. What would you pick?

Narciso Rodriguez For Her EDP by Christine Nagel + Francis Kurkdjian for Narciso Rodriguez 2006

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Post by Anne-Marie

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Curse you Narciso Rodriguez! Why are your fragrances packaged and named alike? Brand cohesion is one thing, but have you no sympathy for your customers (or their hapless friends who try to buy for them)?

Well, applying my attention to the list on Fragrantica, I realised that the 31 listed NR fragrances are all just variations on just four pillar fragrances: For Her, For Him, Essence, and Narciso.

Got it? You’re welcome.

Today I’m going to cover NR’s second release, Narciso Rodriguez For Her EDP. This is the one with the PINK bottle and the BLACK box.

Narciso Rodriguez For Her EDP 2006

Narciso Rodriguez For Her EDP by Christine Nagel + Francis Kurkdjian

nd.14319Fragrantica

Fragrantica gives these featured accords:
Top: rose, peach
Heart: musk, amber
Base: sandalwood, patchouli

Portia has done a stellar review of the original EDT, but there is a difference in emphasis in the EDP. Intimate and sensual, both are musky florals with very clean (fractionated) patchouli and amber. On me the sillage and longevity of both are just moderate.

However, I remember the EDT (I’ve sold my bottle) as sharper and drier – more masculine perhaps – than the EDP. What distinguishes the EDP for me is a prominent note of peach, juicy but not too sweet. This is what I hoped Lancome’s Tresor would be like if it did not collapse into a sickly sweet, artificial mess on me.

Narciso Rodriguez – Fall 2016 – NYFW

However, not everyone seems to particularly notice the peach in NR For Her EDP. The fascination with Narciso Rodriguez fragrances is that there are wide variations in how people perceive them. You might love the EDP but utterly disagree with my take on it.

While musk is the common accord in both concentrations of Narciso Rodriguez For Her, people nevertheless react differently to other notes and accords. They will detect more or less rose, more or less amber, more or less citrus, more or less orange blossom (I get none), and so on. Musk anosmia means that some people can hardly smell them at all.
For years I eked out a large decant of the EDP. Mostly I wore it when travelling for work. Its casual but professional style was perfect for meetings, but even better was to save it for the evenings when I was in the hotel and at could at last take a shower and relax. Any parent of young children will understand the heaven of being alone in a hotel room with the bathroom, room service and the TV remote entirely at your command. NR For Her EDP easily complements moments of simple enjoyment such as this.

Narciso Rodriguez for Her Eau de Parfum Hotel PixabayPixabay

Further reading: Perfume Shrine and Perfume Posse
FragranceNet has $78/50ml before Coupon
My Perfume Samples has from $2.50/ml to $7.50/5ml

I’m now the possessor of a partial bottle of the EDP, and very happy I am too.

How about you? How do you go navigating the Narciso Rodriguez line? What are your ‘simple pleasures’ perfumes?

 

 

N.B.: If you click and buy from the My Perfume Samples link I get a kickback

Lunarii: New Australian Natural Perfume

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Post by Anne-Marie

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Lunarii is an Australian company which creates all-natural fragrances. The company sent APJ some fragrances for consideration, and I’m reviewing two for today’s post.

Lunarii Natural Fragrances

Lunarii: New Australian Natural Perfume

queen of hearts Lunarii Natural FragrancesLunarii

Queen of Hearts by Lunarii

Lunarii gives these featured accords:
Rose Otto, Rose Damascena, Rose Maroc, violet leaf, spikenard, clary sage, musk.

Described as a ‘Euphoric unfurling of a rose-laden carpet into the sky’. The fragrance opens with a sudden whoosh, an ‘unfurling’, of very vivid rose notes. There is not a lot of sweetness; rather, the effect is peppery and a little raspy. If it is a little harsh at this point, it softens as it develops. Incense is not given as a note; on my first wearing of Queen of Hearts I smelled it distinctly, but in subsequent wearings not so much. Never mind. For me, Queen of Hearts resolves into a clean, serene rose incense (-like) fragrance. It is aimed at a ‘woman of any age’, but to me it is quite unisex.

summer Lunarii Natural FragrancesLunarii

Summer

Lunarii gives these featured accords:
Frangipani, Tolu balsam, vanilla, lemon-butter

Summer caught my eye because I love the idea of gardens bright with sunshine and flowers, shaded with trees and murmuring fountains. The fragrance is described as ‘A warm summer’s breeze. Youthful and delicate’. The opening gives me a strange, earthy, almost muddy effect for a minute or so, as if I’m getting earth and roots before leaves and sunshine. As time passes, bright florals and a feeling of freshness and ease emerge. I really can see myself reclining under a shady tree sipping a glass of lemonade, and with nothing to do but read or snooze or watch the pattern of leaves against the sky. However, to my nose the muddiness of the opening leaves a trace throughout that makes the fragrance not as enjoyable as I had hoped.

Queen of Hearts and Summer are quite different, but I’ve enjoyed reviewing them together. Pursuing an Alice and Wonderland theme, Queen of Hearts is like the dim, cool hall in which Alice finds herself after she has fallen down the rabbit hole, and Summer is the garden she sees through the little door, and which she eventually finds.

Sillage and longevity are moderate in both fragrances.

Lunarii’s perfumer is Jason, a Sydney-based healer, artist and scientist with an interest in alchemy. His disillusionment with big-brand fragrances led to the launch of Lunarii, late in 2015. There are seven fragrances in the line-up so far, and there is a range of sample and gift sets available.

Have you tried any Lunarii fragrances? Do you have any favourite natural brands?

Anne-Marie’s Perfume & Mothers

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Post by Anne-Marie

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No, it’s not Mother’s Day just yet, don’t panic!
I was mucking about on the perfume blogs the other day and came across a very striking post by March on Perfume Posse dating right back to 2006. Not a review, but a meditation, you might say, on her mother’s perfume, Lanvin’s My Sin.

Perfume & Mothers

It reminded me of a few other posts of this nature that I have read over the years. A few bloggers – mostly women – have written very movingly about the perfumes worn by their mothers, and the emotions that a whiff of perfume can elicit. These posts make for very interesting reading and I thought it might be good to bring them together here.

Boy and his mother laughing in the kitchen

The mothers have left their daughters with very strong perfume memories. Usually the women were indeed very strong women, and a girl’s first lessons in femininity are often learned at the dressing table through the wonder of watching her mother apply perfume. If you are familiar with the latest Chanel No 5 ad, featuring Gisele Bündchen, you will remember how beautifully this moment is evoked.
In different ways the bloggers’ daughters have tried to ‘read’ their mothers’ lives through their perfumes. They conjure up the mother as young woman, younger perhaps than her daughter is at the time of writing. They try to imagine their mothers as people separate from their children, as career women perhaps, or lovers to their husbands, or trying to juggle all their many roles.

Gisele CHANEL No 5 Ŧhe ₵oincidental Ðandy FlickrFlickr

What were my parents like before we children came along? Can I gain any insight into them just as people, not as parents? Does perfume open a different window on to my mother’s life and personality than the person I normally remember? If so, where do I belong in that picture?

Anyway, here are the posts.
March on Perfume Posse on Lanvin My Sin.

Beth on Perfume Smellin’ Things on Guerlain Shalimar.

Shelia on the Alembicated Genie on a variety of classic perfumes, especially VC&A’s First.

Michelle on Glass Petal Smoke on Dior Miss Dior.

Gaia, the Non-Blonde, on the original Chloe.

Barbara on Yesterday’s Perfume on Revlon Charlie. (Her mother also wore Rochas Femme, Lancome Magie Noir, Scherrer No 1, and Ungaro Diva.)

Dimitri_Torterat Dad_and_son_staring_at_the_French_oriflamme_(French_Bastille_Day_2009) WikiMediaWikiMedia

After you’ve had a browse, come back and share your own memories, if you would like to. And if know of similar posts about fathers, I’d love to know. These seem to be much rarer. And please share your own memories of what your Dad wore.

Anne-Marie

Chanel No 19 EdP by Henri Robert for Chanel 1971: Vintage + Modern

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Post by Anne-Marie

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The good thing about loving a perfume by Chanel is that Chanel does not discontinue its fragrances very often. You can have an affair for life with a Chanel perfume, and know that you will be rewarded by the company’s constant investment in high quality raw materials and packaging. If you wear a perfume for years you get to know it well, and will notice differences even in newer bottles of the same concentration. Although of course many classic fragrances have been reformulated out of all recognition, sometimes the distinctions are very subtle, and may even be improvements.

Today I’m going to talk about Chanel No 19 EDP, but please do chime in down in the comments if you have had experiences like this with other long-time perfume loves.

 Chanel No 19 EdP by Chanel 1971

 Chanel No 19 EdP by Henri Robert: Vintage + Modern

Chanel No 19 Eau de Parfum Chanel FragranticaFragrantica

Fragrantica gives these featured accords:
Top: Neroli, bergamot, green notes
Heart: Iris, narcissus, rose, lily of the valley
Base: Sandalwood, leather, vetiver, oakmoss

Although the EDP is not my favourite concentration, when I noticed that my old one, bought in 1999, had started to turn I instantly bought a new one. I was prompted especially by having spritzed from department store testers and noticed a greater emphasis on vetiver in the current EDP compared to my old one. Sure enough, when I opened my new bottle (a Christmas present to myself!), the vetiver is indeed, to my nose, more prominent than of old.

My old EDP demonstrates more rose and powdery orris than the new. The difference is not great, but it’s there. And actually, I quite like it. To me there is more structure in the newer version, and it’s more masculine and less powdery.

Years ago when I first smelled the EDP I wondered why I found it a bit depressing. I didn’t know the notes for No 19, and didn’t know that orris (iris) can induce a feeling of melancholy. Once I learned that – the feeling magically went away, and I began to wear the EDP with more enjoyment.

Chanel No 19 Eau de Parfum Chanel William_Blake_Melancholy WikipediaWikipedia

I’m liking my new bottle very much and strongly recommend it to vetiver lovers, male and female.

A word about the other concentrations: the parfum to me is quite dark and leathery, with yes – lots of vetiver. Portia”s review. The EDT is my favourite. It is (to me) the least powdery; it sparkles with a mixture of spring sunshine and rain. I adore it, and I’m on my … ahem … fourth bottle. I’ve not smelled the old EDC but here’s Portia”s review.

It can be a complex business to maintain a perfume to an even standard over the years, not just because of restrictions on raw materials, but because the natural materials will vary from place to place and harvest to harvest. Ensuring that the materials are produced ethically and sustainably is another consideration.

Chanel No 19 Eau de Parfum Chanel Sara Beneath Rain FlickrFlickr

Further reading: Now Smell This and Olfactoria’s Travels
CHANEL counters everywhere have No 19, go grab a FREE spritz
Surrender To Chance has samples starting at $3.50/ml

So – over to you. Do you have a long-time favourite fragrance which has let you down, or does it continue to bring joy?

Amarige by Dominique Ropion for Givenchy 1991

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Post by Anne-Marie

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A little while ago I did a round-up of print and online reviews of one of the most reviled perfumes on the counter: Givenchy’s Amarige. Now I’d like to share my own views. An astute reader will probably have decided that I would not be going to this much trouble if I hated Amarige, and you are right. I do love it. So THERE!

 Amarige by Givenchy 1991

 Amarige by Dominique Ropion

 

Amarige Givenchy FragranticaPhoto Stolen Fragrantica

Parfumo gives these featured accords:
Top: Mandarin, Neroli, Peach, Plum, Rosewood, Violet Heart
Heart: Gardenia, Carnation, Jasmine, Cassia, Mimosa, Orchid, Black locust, Rose, Red berries, Black currant, Tuberose, Ylang-ylang
Base: Amber, Woody notes, Musk, Sandalwood, Tonka bean, Vanilla, Cedar

Firstly, the notes (deep breath):
Top: orange blossom, plum, mandarin, violet, peach, neroli, Brazilian rosewood.
Heart: red berries, mimosa, carnation, black locust, tuberose, blackcurrant, gardenia, casie, orchids, jasmine, ylang ylang, rose.
Base: sandalwood, tonka, amber, musk, vanilla, woody notes, cedar

How does it smell to me? I don’t much bother trying to separate the notes. To me Amarige smells of peaches, white flowers, and sunshine. Yellow is a dominant colour in the marketing and while I don’t dress in yellow, I get my ‘yellow’ from Amarige. It’s a colour – and a scent – of confidence, happiness and optimism.

Amarige’s bottle was designed by Pierre Dinand and inspired by a blouse Hubert de Givenchy had designed in 1952 for his model, muse and some time press agent, Bettina Graziani. High-collared and narrow at the waist, the sleeves of the ‘Bettina blouse’ were deeply ruffled with broderie anglaise, and those ruffles are referenced in the cap on the bottle.

Amarige Givenchy Bettina Blouse PinterestPhoto Stolen Pinterest

Tuberose? I compared Amarige with other ‘scoundrels’ (Luca Turin’s word) of the era: Giorgio of Beverly Hills and Elizabeth Arden’s Red Door. The tuberose in those is indeed very and harsh and synthetic, to my nose, whereas in Amarige the tuberose is balanced and blended with other notes, especially that joyful peach.

Too strong? Oh for goodness sake! Just wear less. Nobody is forcing you to spritz Amarige 16 times, are they? What? Your Auntie Sharon did actually spritz it 16 times, back in the 90s? Well good on her. She smelled better than if she had been wearing any amount of Issey Miyake. Yes she did.

Speaking of Issey Miyake, some perfume critics write of the 90s as a time of freshness and restraint in perfume. In the 80s, perfumes were too strong and we all wore too much. In the 90s we detoxed, apparently, on fragrances like Calvin Klein’s CK One and Clinique’s Happy. But no, that’s not quite true. The divas kept coming. Not just Amarige, but Lancome’s Trésor and Poème, Liz Taylor’s White Diamonds, Gucci’s L’Arte di Gucci and Rush, Thierry Mugler’s Angel, YSL’s Yvresse, Hermès’ 24 Faubourg, Dior’s Docle Vita and J’Adore, and Chanel’s Allure.

And yet the clean watery fragrances did sell like crazy, so perhaps the only explanation is that they were bought by people who would otherwise not wear fragrance at all – memories of Auntie Sharon – meaning that the fragrance market overall must have expanded in the 1990s.

Photo Stolen Fragrantica

FragranceNet has $28/30ml
My Perfume Samples starts at $2/ml

I started out with Amarige and have ended up with 90s fruity florals in general.
What do you think? A good era for perfume, the 90s? Or … not?

Amarige by Dominic Ropion for Givenchy 1991

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Post by Anne-Marie

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For some time I have wanted to tackle a review of Givenchy’s 1991 powerhouse fragrance Amarige but in thinking about Amarige, one of the most divisive fragrances on the counter today, I began browsing not just the online reviews, but some perfume books in my collection. I don’t have an extensive library on perfume but I have a few works, and very interesting they can be, especially the older ones.

So today I thought I would bring you a taste of these diverse published opinions on a fragrance upon which no-one seems to be neutral. Everyone has an opinion on Amarige!

Amarige by Dominic Ropion for Givenchy 1991

A review of reviews

Amarige Givenchy FragranticaPhoto Stolen Fragrantica

Parfumo gives these featured accords:
Top: Mandarin, Neroli, Peach, Plum, Rosewood, Violet Heart
Heart: Gardenia, Carnation, Jasmine, Cassia, Mimosa, Orchid, Black locust, Rose, Red berries, Black currant, Tuberose, Ylang-ylang
Base: Amber, Woody notes, Musk, Sandalwood, Tonka bean, Vanilla, Cedar

Released in 1991, Amarige is a colossal white floral which somehow missed the memo that the 90s would be the era of clean, simple fragrances.

Jan Moran:
Amarige is a romantic floral creation, youthful and fresh, lightened by sparkling notes of mandarin and neroli, followed by rich white flowers embedded in a sensual musk, wood and vanilla base. A delicately feminine fragrance.
Jan Moran, Fabulous Fragrances: how to select your perfume wardrobe (Crescent House Publishing, 1994)
Fresh? Delicate? Ye Gods and Little Fishes Jan! I know your book came out in 1994 and that the 1980sa were not far behind you, but really! Even then you must have known that Amarige is about as delicate as the water tumbling over the Hoover Dam. Sheesh!

John Oakes:
Sultry is probably the word to describe this strong, elaborate and passionate perfume … Its unconventionality and breeding place it well above the usual shriek and clamour of reckless ‘moderns’. A woman will either fall immediately in love with it or avoid its uncompromising demands. It is a lusciously exotic perfume – mesmerising and sophisticated. It is Givenchy’s most daring adventure.
John Oakes, The New Book of Perfumes (Prion Books, 2000)
Considering that Oakes’ declared favourite perfume is Balmain’s Vent Vert (‘green wind’), which is stratospherically different from Amarige, his review is a masterpiece of diplomacy. I wonder what were the ‘reckless “moderns” ‘ he was thinking of in 2000?

Luca Turin:
This is the review that put Amarige on the map for innocents like me who had until encountering his book had never tried it. Many of us probably recite this one by heart, can’t we? Here we go:
We nearly gave it four stars: the soapy-green tobacco tuberose accord Dominique Ropion designed for Amarige is unmissable, unmistakable, and unforgettable. However, it is also truly loathsome, perceptible even at parts-per-billion levels, and at all times incompatible with others’ enjoyment of food, music, sex and travel. If you are reading this because it’s your darling fragrance, please wear it at home exclusively, and tape the windows shut. LT
Luca Turin and Tania Sanchez, Perfumes: the guide (Penguin, 2008)
Equal parts amusing and insulting, like so many Turin-Sanchez reviews. Only one star was actually awarded, meaning I suppose that while he and TS find Amarige technically accomplished, LT personally loathes it. Fair enough.

Barbara Herman:
With a jumble of synthetic-smelling fruit notes that smell as jarring as spandex shorts with headbands and fanny packs now look, Amarige’s predictable progression in a tuberose-sweet floral heart and vanilla/amber woody base makes it hard to separate from its sisters (Cabotine, Giorgio, Animale, etc). … Amarige’s sandalwood and cedar base at least helps redeem it by providing depth and texture to the chemical stew that bubbles at its heart. … It’s hard to imagine this style of sweetness will ever come back into perfume, even ironically.
Barbara Herman, Scent & Subversion: decoding a century of provocative perfume (Lyon Press, 2013)

Photo Stolen Fragrantica

FragranceNet has $28/30ml
My Perfume Samples starts at $2/ml

So, what in 1994 was ‘fresh’ and ‘delicate’ is now a ‘chemical stew’ which should only be worn in privacy among consenting adults. What a difference 20 years makes!

Have you worn Amarige?
Anne-Marie