Stéphane Humbert Lucas 777 Black Gemstone: Black (Gold) Beauty

Posted on April 30, 2014 by Kafkaesque

Source: wall321.com

Love at first sniff. Black Gemstone is an opulently ambered, spicy, woody-incense fragrance from Stéphane Humbert Lucas that caught my attention from the very first time I tried it. Mysterious woods, black frankincense and tart lemons curds, thick velvet and sticky amber — those disparate images are only one part of the complex tale created by one of the chic-est, most polished, most intriguing orientals that I’ve tried in a while.

“Shades of Caramel Abstract” by David Naman. Source: Fine Art America. (Website link embedded within.)

I’m not sure where to start in trying to summarize Black Gemstone. Should it be the well-oiled woods drizzled with honey and saffron? The way the perfume changes shape each time, or how it tantalizes you with little tendrils of notes that are never quite what they seem? Should I talk about how its darkness turns to a sensual warmth that envelops you like velvet on satin skin? Or how its surface simplicity dissolves upon closer inspection into layer upon finely calibrated layer — all like tiny detailed brushstrokes of enameled lacquer on an ornate golden heart of patchouli and amber?

I don’t know where to begin, in part because Black Gemstone feels truly mysterious on some levels — and not simply because the perfume changes on my skin from one spot to the next, or from wearing to wearing. I don’t find many fragrances to evoke a sense of mystery, let alone darkness, but, somehow, the opening of Black Gemstone does. And, as a whole, it is one of the chic-est damn things I’ve tried in ages.

Stéphane Humbert Lucas, via SHL FB, used with permission.

Black Gemstone is a 2013 parfum extrait from Stéphane Humbert Lucas 777 (hereinafter just referred to as “SHL 777” or “777“). All the perfumes are created by Monsieur Lucas, who used to be the in-house perfumer for SoOud and Nez à Nez. Up to now, the 777 line was exclusive to Europe, Russia, and Middle Eastern, but there is excellent news.

The complete SHL 777 line should be coming to America in a few days, including the stunning amber monster, O Hira, that was previously contractually limited to Harrods and to Printemps, and the 2013 iris-amber-heliotrope Khol de Bahrein. The new 2014 releases should also be available, such as the highly original cherry-latex-almond-cedar-oud Qom Chilom, the immortelle gourmand Une Nuit à Doha, and the Cambodian oud, smoke and leather, Oud 777. The scents will be exclusive to Luckyscent and Osswald NYC. I have samples of the line, thanks to the generosity and kindness of Monsieur Lucas, and Black Gemstone is the second to last in my series. (I’m only missing Rose de Petra, so Soleil de Jeddah will be the last.)

Black Gemstone. Photo and source: Stéphane Humbert Lucas.

Black Gemstone is a pure parfum that is described in the press materials provided to me as follows:

Tribute to the Black Stone
Brewed essence, tender as clay,
petrified, blackened.

Infusion of three Cedars – Lemon
Myrrh tar
Incense [Olibanum] – Teak – Tonka.

As with other SHL 777 fragrances, the official list seems to be merely a nutshell synopsis. I detected far more emanating from my skin, from honey and labdanum amber, to sweet myrrh/opoponax and woody-leathered undertones. So I sent off yet another pestering email to poor Monsieur Lucas to ask what else was actually included in Black Gemstone. I’m always grateful for his time, patience, and forthright openness, but I was especially relieved this time because, by the time I got his reply, I was pretty sure I was wafting eucalyptus, saffron and patchouli as well. You don’t know how crazy you start to feel when you smell things a galaxy away from what’s on an official note list. (I mean, eucalyptus, for heaven’s sake!)

The actual note list for Black Gemstone turns out to be:

Italian lemon, 3 types of cedar, frankincense (olibanum), myrrh, sweet myrrh (opoponax), patchouli, cistus labdanum amber, teak wood, birch wood, saffron, basil, a camphor accord (eucalyptus and rosemary), and tonka.

Source: Stéphane Humbert Lucas.

Black Gemstone opens on my skin with beautiful honey and deep, concentrated tart lemon over dark, smoky woods. There is a noticeable leather undertone and a strongly balsamic base, along with almost a black tea-like smokiness, all of which are lovely. The woods are dark and blackened, but not singed or burnt. Rather, they’re sweetened and musky, then drenched with an incredibly real lemon note.

Photo: bravetart.com

The latter was the star of the opening act on my skin in quite a few tests that I did. It has the perfect balance of a tart, tangy Meyer’s lemon, a type of lemon that does not have strong acidity. This is no crisp, zesty, or chilled citric note. It’s also far from thin. Instead, there is a very heavy, sun-ripened juiciness that has been concentrated into something almost akin to unsugared lemon curd in its beautiful, tart depths. I cannot get over the lemon note in Black Gemstone, really I can’t. And I’m not one who ever gushes about citruses in fragrances.

I think one reason why there is such a full-bodied richness and fruited heaviness is that the lemon has been subtly amplified by patchouli. It’s the syrupy, fruited patchouli that I normally loathe so much, but it’s managed with incredible finesse here. Never gooey or overly sweet, and only occasionally like jammy, purple molasses, the patchouli here has been refined to add just a touch of concentrated richness to the lemon without ever detracting from the citric focus. The result would almost feel photo-realistic, except this lemon has been shot through with walloping amounts of black smoke in a way that I haven’t previously encountered.

That smoke is definitely the second star of Black Gemstone’s opening on my skin. The frankincense is beautiful and perfectly balanced, never too muffled but also never really overpowering or aggressive. Strong tendrils seep out to weave and wrap themselves around you, leaving trails in the air behind you as you move. The smoke is sometimes sharp in its intensity, but, yet, oddly soft and delicate at the same time. There is no grey dustiness or chilliness here; this smoke is warm from the honey and lemons.

Photo by Daniel Fox. Source: petapixel.com. (Website link embedded within.)

While the lemon and frankincense waltz on center stage, other elements quietly weave in and out. The note list says myrrh “tar,” and it does feel a little like a blackened accord, thanks to the copious amounts of a sticky balsamic resin that turns the smoke slightly sweet. There is also an occasional touch of opoponax or sweet myrrh that adds a nutty warmth, but it is very fleeting. Much more noticeable is the resinous base. The labdanum doesn’t smell ambered or golden at this point, but reflects instead a darkness that impacts all the other notes. At times, it has a subtle tobacco tonality, but, most of the time, it merely adds a feeling of something leathery and thick.

Photo: My own.

From afar, Black Gemstone is a beautiful mix of smoky lemony and incense, drizzled with honey and cocooned amidst musky woods, all atop a very balsamic, leathery base. Up close, the mix is absolutely addictive, constantly drawing me in with its richness. It mesmerizes the analytical part of my mind, often because the notes are fused so thoroughly together that it’s hard to know where one starts and the other ends.

In fact, it’s extremely hard to tease out many of the notes in Black Gemstone because it’s a beautifully blended fragrance. I found it almost impossible to know the source for many of the things that I detected. Not only do the individual elements flow seamlessly one to the next, but so many of them complement and share common characteristics. Does the honey derive from the labdanum or the sweet myrrh? Is the subtle tobacco-like tonality that dances at the edges a result of the patchouli, the labdanum, or something else? Same question for the leather undertone. I have no answers at all.

Mark Rothko, "Untitled (Violet, Black, Orange, Yellow on White and Red)," 1949.

Mark Rothko, “Untitled” 1949.

The perfume is so incredibly blended that it never actually opened the exact same way twice on my skin on any of the 3 occasions when I wore it. On my usual testing arm, Black Gemstone always opened with a bouquet dominated by incense and some fluctuating level of lemon curd, but that was the only consistent aspect because all the other notes varied. On one occasion, the main duo was heavily dusted by spicy saffron from the very start, then trailed by honey and a jammy, fruited, almost raspberry-ish patchouli over a soft base of warm amber.

Source: wallpoper.com

Another time, Black Gemstone’s opening was drier, woodier, and much smokier. This time, the incense-lemon accord was cocooned in musky cedar with a touch of creamy beeswax from the sweet myrrh. The frankincense felt even stronger than usual, and the cedar was much more prominent than on any prior occasion. In contrast, the amber and the saffron were weaker, taking much longer to rise up from the base. The jammy patchouli was also less evident, but the woodier, red-brown, spicy patchouli flickered in and out from the start.

Source: publicdomainpictures.net

However, on my non-testing arm, it was a different story entirely. Black Gemstone opened with patchouli, saffron, camphor, lemon curd, musky woods, cedar, amber, tobacco tonalities and incense. The patchouli and saffron combination far outweighed the frankincense lemon curd. The perfume felt sweeter and richer, with more overt spices and a flickering touch of eucalyptus camphor right from the start. To my surprise, the patchouli felt simultaneously like the fruited, jammy kind and the more traditional, usual patchouli that I love with its red-brown spiciness, tobacco woodiness, and a touch of mentholated green. I can’t remember the last time I encountered a perfume where both versions of patchouli were present side-by-side at the same time. All I can say is that there is serious skill and technical wizardry involved in all of this.

In short, Black Gemstone is what I call a “prismatic” scent. It throws off different facets each time you wear it, the way light hitting a crystal chandelier will reflect different rays of colours. Prismatic scents can often seem linear in nature, because the seamless blending of notes reveals the different nuances very subtly. I believe Luca Turin calls these sorts of fragrances “circular” because the notes often come around hours later again in a full circle, and that happens here with Black Gemstone, as well. It makes it hard for me to give you the usual breakdown or analysis, especially once the perfume transitions into its second stage, because there is never one set story.

Still, I’ll try to describe what happens in one of the tests, the one with which I began this review. After 15 minutes, Black Gemstone starts to shift, particularly in terms of the wooded accord. It grows far stronger, and feels simultaneously dry but creamy. Initially, it doesn’t smell of cedar at all. It’s not peppered or dusty the way some cedar can be. Nor does it smell of pencil shavings.

Cedar. Photo: Brett Stewart, with permission. Source: http://instagram.com/bstewart23

Instead, the wood is turning beautifully creamy in a way that feels very unusual for cedar. Perhaps it is from the sweet myrrh, which can often reflect a creamy beeswax tonality. Or, perhaps it is the teak which is responsible? I must confess, I have no idea what teak smells like, and Fragrantica only says it is a “fantasy note” that is polished, light and “blond.” I don’t know what that means. All I can say is that the wood here in Black Gemstone feels infused with frankincense, myrrh, the concentrated lemon curd, and that mysterious creaminess. Even better, there is a distinct earthiness and muskiness to it, though it is very hard to describe or explain.

Source: footage.shutterstock.com

The whole thing feels heavily oiled, smoky, sweet, darkened, and smooth. The honey that was drizzled all over fades after 20 minutes as a distinct, individual note, though a definite sweetness remains. Everything about Black Gemstone feels concentrated and rich, evoking the brightest yellow shot through with endless smoke and blackness. It is a ball of brightness in a dark forest where all the trees have been oiled to a smooth, polished finish. None of it smells like furniture polish, by the way. It’s more like a photo-realistic, tart lemon concentrate, reduced down to a thick treacle, then shot through with incense and dry, earthy, musky woods.

Black Gemstone continues to shift and evolve. About 30 minutes in, the cedar finally begins to smell more like its usual self. The first hints of saffron appear, but this isn’t the usual sort of saffron either. It’s not fiery, dusty, buttered, or even particularly spicy at first. Instead, it’s more like a woody saffron that has been refined to add mere warmth. Sometimes, it feels more like a subset of the labdanum, or a figment of my imagination. Yet, in other tests, the spice was noticeable from the start and smelled more like actual saffron.

I’m struggling to explain all this, and I know I’m being somewhat unclear, but I find Black Gemstone extremely hard to describe. There are two reasons why. First, on my skin, many of the notes in the perfume are quite subtle at times. Second, they’ve been highly refined to the point that they don’t always smell the way that I’m used to. Monsieur Lucas told me in one of his emails that he worked extremely hard with the quantities, to add just “tiny doses” and ensure that the many elements were all calibrated against each other. Yet, he also used extremely expensive, high-quality ingredients whose normally bold nature has been smoothed out. The overall effect of both things is to create notes that are simultaneously very refined and quite elusive at times, leading you to wonder just what you’re sniffing. On other occasions, however, the exact same note was less mysterious, like the time that the eucalyptus was evident from the start instead of being such a tantalizing whisper in the background.

Roughly 90 minutes into Black Gemstone’s development, the second stage arrives and it is essentially the same each time, in all my versions. The details and small nuances may vary from one test to another, but the broad brushstrokes are generally consistent. For the most part, Black Gemstone transitions into a markedly different perfume from that which appeared at the start.

Photo by Daniel Fox. Source: petapixel.com . http://petapixel.com/2013/05/25/photographer-captures-abstract-photos-showing-lava-up-close/

Now, Black Gemstone is not dominated by tart, concentrated lemon curd with incense, but by more golden elements led first by the amber and incense, then, hours later, by patchouli-amber. As the lemon slowly softens and fades away, the labdanum rises from the base, the incense turns up another notch, the myrrh becomes stronger, and the brown patchouli finally wakes up in the base. Saffron is sprinkled over everything, while little hints of beeswax dart about. The musky woods feel more amorphous than cedar-y, and seem creamier than ever. As a whole, Black Gemstone feels deeper, softer, and richer, though the sillage lessens a little. The visuals of yellow with black have changed to amber, gold, bronze, brown and cream.

Source: ebay.uk.

Black Gemstone’s greatest characteristic for me at this point would be ambered velvet. If textures could be actual notes, then “velvet” should be part of the perfume’s pyramid, because it feels as much a part of Black Gemstone’s identity as the tendrils of black incense or the earthy, musky woods. There is a smooth richness to the scent that is wonderfully luxurious and feels almost like thickened, creamy brocade. Monsieur Lucas attributes a lot of it to the tonka, but I’m used to tonka that is either powdery, purely vanillic, creamy vanilla, or some combination of both. I’ve never experienced tonka as creamy velvet amber.

It all feels very elegant, polished, and chic, but there is also something soothing and serene about Black Gemstone. It’s as though you’re in a palatial room padded with thick velvet that drowns out all the frenetic noise around you. You lie on a bed made out of cedar and patchouli, on sheets of honeyed, fragrant beeswax, under a thick blanket of dark velvet shot through with ambered gold and saffron, as clouds of black incense circulate in the air all around you. It’s meditative, zen, and comforting all at once.

Source: wallpaperup.com

Black Gemstone continues to shift, but only by tiny, incremental degrees. The lemon fades away entirely at the 2.5 hour mark. An hour later, the cedar retreats to the background, and the woods turn more abstract. The tonka starts to stir more noticeably in the base, adding the faintest touch of powder to the scent and even more of the creaminess mentioned above. The myrrh and sweet myrrh work in tandem with the frankincense, adding more smoke to the scent, but the sharpness is offset by the surging tides of amber that roll over everything. Meanwhile, the brown-red patchouli grows stronger. I’m a complete “patch head,” so I’m over the moon at its prominence and spicy richness. Occasional touches of camphor and eucalyptus dart about, but the patchouli is primarily one more layer of golden warmth.

Source: wallpaperswa.com

At the end of 9 hours, Black Gemstone is a blend of sweet, spicy, nutty, vaguely honeyed, woody notes, lightly flecked with incense in a thick cocoon of velvet amber. The primary bouquet is centered on patchouli-amber, trailed by the incense. The patchouli occasionally has a powerful streak of eucalyptus. Sometime, there is a subtle booziness as well. Saffron, tonka and an amorphous, warm woodiness dart about in the background, adding to the richness of the scent. There is no real powder, no vanilla, just layer upon layer of goldenness upon a deep base that feels like the darkest resins have turned to satin.

At the start of the 12th hour, Black Gemstone is a warm blur of patchouli amber. If you smell up close and really focus, you can just barely single out the tonka, saffron, cedar, and eucalyptus, but they’re increasingly minor and muted. In its final moments, Black Gemstone is merely a silky whisper of golden warmth with a vaguely woody character.

All in all, Black Gemstone consistently lasted well over 14 hours on my perfume consuming skin. With 2 decent spritzes from my atomizer, amounting to one very good spray from an actual bottle, the perfume lasted just under 15 hours. Really, about 14.75. The sillage was initially large, hovering about 4 inches above the skin. That number dropped after 90 minutes to about 2 inches above the skin, then one inch at the 3.75 hour mark. There, Black Gemstone remained for ages, turning into a skin scent only at the end of the 8th hour.

Source: hqwide.com

The numbers were even better with 3 big spritzes, amounting to 2 sprays from a proper bottle. The longevity was just short of 17 hours. Black Gemstone initially wafted about 5 inches off my skin, but it left a definite trail behind me. On one occasion, I had dinner with my parents about an hour after applying Black Gemstone, and was told that they could smell the fragrance in two rooms that I had been either standing in or walking through. In all cases, however, and regardless of amount, Black Gemstone’s sillage averages out to about 2 inches above the skin when you consider the 14 to 16 hours as a whole.

As a point of comparison, that’s pretty much how most Profumum Roma scents are on my skin as well. In fact, Black Gemstone actually feels a lot like a Profumum scent with its heavy, concentrated nature and great longevity. Both brands put out fragrances that are extraits or pure parfums in concentration, so it’s not really a surprise. In the case of Black Gemstone, it has 24% concentration, just like its other siblings in the SHL 777 line.

On a personal level, I have to say that this has been one of the most difficult reviews I’ve written in a while. Despite the hundreds of words that I’ve written, I can’t shake the feeling that I haven’t actually described the perfume at all. I can summarize it up in a nutshell as a lemon-incense fragrance with dry woods that later turns into incense-patchouli-amber, but that doesn’t seem to convey the full extent of Black Gemstone’s complexity on my skin or its feel. Emphasizing the smoky incense and woodiness would be misleading, just as it would be if I focused on the golden warmth which later appears.

George Seurat, “The Seine and la Grande Jatte” – Springtime 1888, Royal Museums of Fine Arts of Belgium. Source: Wikipedia.

All of these things are just one piece of the puzzle, a puzzle that seems extremely simple on the outside. In fact, some of you may sniff Black Gemstone and wonder what on earth I’m talking about, because the details are often like tiny brushstrokes. For me, Black Gemstone feels like one of the paintings from the famous Pointillist painter, George Seurat, where you have to look extremely close in order to see that the seemingly simple image is actually created from thousands of tiny dots.

In the same way that my words feel inadequate, so is the imagery. I generally try to use photos as a symbolic, visual representations, and, yet, none of them seem to really capture the full picture. They certainly don’t convey some of the impressions in my head for how the perfume feels to me, or the men and women who represent its different facets. So, I’m giving in to frustration and going to subject you to a visual display that may explain some of it.

Symbolically, Black Gemstone sometimes translates in my head from this:

Drottningholm Palace, Sweden. Photo: CubeFarmEscape at http://cubefarmescape.com/2011/06/pick-a-palace-or-two/

to this:

Photo: Lorraine Eaton. Source: hamptonroads.com

But also this:

Photo: Mert & Marcus from their video for Madonna, “Girl gone wild.” Source: kontraplan.com

to this:

Source: imgfave.com. Artist or creator unknown.

At the same time, however, Black Gemstone can also feel like this:

Source: wallpaperup.com

leading to this:

Source: darkroom.baltimoresun.com

before ending up as this:

Photo: Hawkea. Source: hawkea.blogspot.com

And all of this is worn by him:

Model David Gandy via fashionbeans.com

and her:

Bianca Balti for Dolce & Gabbana. Source: stylesnooperdan

At least, that is how Black Gemstone appears in my head. I wish I could tell you how others see it, but I could not find any comparative reviews to show you. On Fragrantica, Black Gemstone’s entry page has no comments at this time. In fact, until yesterday, the perfume was not widely available outside of Harrods and Paris’ Printemps. Germany’s First in Fragrance just received Black Gemstone, along with the new 2014 releases. As noted at the start of this post, the complete SHL 777 line will be released in the U.S. at the start of May.

In Europe, Black Gemstone’s retail price is €235 for a 50 ml bottle of pure parfum. I don’t have the official American pricing rate, but, at today’s rate of exchange, that comes to roughly $325. However, I know from prior experiences with European exclusives that the eventual U.S. price is always much less than the conversion amount. So, I estimate the perfume will probably be in the $290 range, though that is purely a personal guess.

For me, Black Gemstone is worth every penny, and it is high on my wish list right next to the magnificent O Hira, the Incredible Hulk of ambers. The latter is far too expensive to be anything more than a dream for me, but Black Gemstone will be mine. The quality, luxuriousness, projection, and sillage are all there, but more importantly, the perfume moves me. As all these photos should demonstrate, it tells me lots of very different stories throughout its long tenure. It took me places, was intellectually interesting, and had multi-layered complexity that showed great technical skill by the perfumer. So much complexity, in fact, that Black Gemstone was often several perfumes in one on my skin.

Even within the same journey, I found Black Gemstone to be contemplative and meditative, but also darkly sultry and sexy, before ending up as comforting, relaxing warmth. I found all of it addictive, from start to finish, and compulsively sniffable. Is it the most objectively unique and original fragrance? No, because at the end of the day, it is still an incense-woody-amber scent. (In contrast, SHL 777’s new Qom Chilom is definitely unique with its notes of sour Morello cherries, black latex, smoke, almonds, oud, heliotrope, and more.) Still, Black Gemstone feels more approachable to me, and I love how polished it feels. Amber orientals aren’t a category that I would usually classify as “chic,” but Black Gemstone is definitely chic to me.

In short, if you’re looking for a very complex but elegant oriental fragrance, I strongly recommend that you give Black Gemstone a sniff. It’s a black beauty with a rich golden heart.

Disclosure: Perfume sample courtesy of Stéphane Humbert Lucas. That did not influence this review. I do not do paid reviews, and my opinions are my own.

DETAILS:

Cost & Availability: Black Gemstone is an Extrait or pure parfum that is only available in a 50 ml bottle and costs €235. The 777 line will be at Luckyscent and Osswald NYC by the end of April. [Update 5/2/14 — Osswald has received the entire 777 line. It sells Black Gemstone for $309.] Outside the U.S.: Currently, the SHL 777 website is under construction, and doesn’t have an e-store. The best online resource is First in Fragrance which just received the complete SHL 777 line, including the new 2014 releases. It offers a sample of Black Gemstone for €14. In London, you can find the entire collection at Harrod’s Black Room, while in Paris, they are exclusive to Printemps under the name 777. Zurich’s Osswald also carries the line, but I don’t think they have an e-store any more. The Swiss perfumery, Theodora, also has SHL 777, but no e-store. In Cannes, France, the store Taizo is said to carry the 777 line, but I didn’t see the perfumes on their website the last time I checked. In the Middle East, Souq.com has about 6 of the earlier fragrances which it sells for AED 1,500. In the UAE, the SHL 777 line is available at Harvey Nichols and at Bloomingdales in the Dubai Mall. In Russia, SHL 777 is sold at Lenoma. Ukraine’s Sana Hunt Luxury store also carries the line, but they don’t have an e-store. Samples: None of the U.S. sample sites currently carry this fragrance, so Luckyscent and Osswald NYC will be your best option once the SHL 777 line is released. Osswald has changed its Sample Program such that individual pricing now depends on the cost of the particular perfume in question. They range from $3 a vial, up to $9 a vial for fragrances that cost over $300. The program is limited to U.S. customers and has free shipping, but there is also a 3-sample minimum, I believe. If you have questions, you can call Osswald at (212) 625-3111 to enquire further.

By Kilian Imperial Tea

Posted on April 28, 2014 by Kafkaesque

A celebration of tea lies at the heart of Kilian Hennessy’s latest fragrance, Imperial Tea. To be specific, jasmine tea, right down to its delicate greenness and its “moment of purity.”

Source: Fragrantica

Imperial Tea is an eau de parfum created by Calice Becker, which the Kilian website describes quite simply:

A Moment of Purity

IMPERIAL TEA is the most accurate possible reproduction of the note that you can inhale from a freshly brewed cup of tea. The unique scent of Jasmin tea is so well-known that it is difficult to distinguish between the green tea notes and the delicate Jasmin bud notes. Kilian wanted to fully translate the exquisite and delicate sensation of refreshment that one experiences with this timeless beverage.

As with Sacred Wood, its new sibling in the Asian Tales collection, there is a story behind the scent. Luckyscent offers the details:

Calice Becker, who authored most of the By Kilian line-up, is a self-confessed tea fanatic. Unconvinced by tea notes in fine fragrance, she set out to compose her own. The result is an Oh-my-God-this-is-it!, jaw-droppingly realistic rendition of the steam rising from a fresh cup of the finest jasmine tea. Kilian Hennessy found it so perfect for his Asian Tales collection that he included the blend as is, an unusual step since he is usually the one who provides perfumers with a storyline.

[Notes:] Jasmine sambac, bergamot, guaiac, maté, violet note.

Source: forwallpaper.com

Imperial Tea opens on my skin as a potent jasmine bomb infused with green tea, Lapsang Souchong black tea, and a strong dash of very crisp, fresh bergamot. It smells as though a ton of jasmine sambac was poured into two kinds of tea and then brewed. The black tea is the nicest part, but it’s far from being a dominant element on my skin. Not even a secondary one, in fact. A few seconds later, a very clean, white musk appears which is quite strong and sharp. It adds a certain crispness to the jasmine, along with a very definite cleanness. Unfortunately, it’s also strong enough to give me a headache whenever I smell Imperial Tea up close for too long. A tiny note of violet temporarily lurks in the background, fully bulldozed over by the jasmine.

Jasmine tea balls in bloom. Source: aliexpress.com

Imperial Tea is very intense in its opening moments but also extremely airy, thin in feel, and gauzy. 2 small spritzes from my decant gave me 3 inches in projection, though the numbers began to drop after 30 minutes and the perfume lay just an inch above my skin by the end of the first hour.

It takes roughly the same amount of time (90 minutes) for Imperial Tea to devolve. The bergamot retreats to the edges, the jasmine loses its distinct shape and form, and Imperial Tea turns into a nebulous blur of clean, sweet jasmine with tea tonalities and sharp white musk. It’s totally characterless, bland, and indeterminate, except for the white musk which has the most oomph out of the whole thing. The whole thing is very well-blended, but also so hazy on my skin that it’s hard to pick out even the most dominant elements. Sometimes, the jasmine seems in command, occasionally it is the tea. The latter now smells primarily of green leaves, thanks to the maté, and has lost a good portion of its Lapsang Souchong black tonalities.

Source: bioloskiblog.wordpress.com

At end of the second hour, Imperial Tea is nothing more than simple jasmine tea on my skin with clean musk. The jasmine’s potency and sweetness have vanished, and that, in turn, makes Imperial Tea feel positively translucent in its lightness. The white musk continues to be a nuisance, but the bergamot has completely vanished. The black tea sits weakly on the sidelines, largely gagged and muted in the face of the general jasmine greenness. And that’s really about it in terms of substantial development for the next few hours. The perfume turns into a skin scent 2.25 hours into its evolution. An hour later, Imperial Tea becomes increasingly hard to detect.

Source: polychemcoatings.com

By the middle of the 5th hour, the jasmine starts to fade away, as does the white musk, and I’m left with green tea. The maté doesn’t even have its usual herbal aromas or strong character. All that’s left is green tea infused with some vague, amorphous floralacy and an occasional touch of dryness. I suppose the latter stems indirectly from the guaiac wood, but no real woodiness ever shows up on my skin. We’ve gone from a clean jasmine bomb with varied tea notes, sharp musk, and bergamot; to hazy jasmine with green tea and musk, to simple green tea blandness. That is the sum total of Imperial Tea’s excitement on my skin. To my relief, the perfume packs up its bags entirely after 7 hours, and vanishes.

Imperial Tea is a simple, relatively pleasant, wearable fragrance. And I would certainly reach for it gratefully if I were ever on a deserted island with only salt water as an alternative. That’s about all I have to say about the perfume which inspires no emotion in me at all. Not even disdain. Imperial Tea has so little personality after the jasmine bomb of its opening moments that, to all effects and purposes, it felt invisible to me. I can’t even summon up the energy or interest to dislike it. It was simply… there.

Source: made-in-china.com

At best, I’ll say that the jasmine intensity of the opening hour was pleasant, and the muted black tea was very nice. That’s about as complimentary as I can be, especially as the white musk feels wholly unnecessary. I had quite a bit of tea in China — including some lovely jasmine ones where flower balls bloomed in hot water — but not a single one was ever accompanied with sharp, white, clean musk. So, I can’t agree with Mr. Hennessy’s claim that Imperial Tea is “the most accurate possible reproduction of the note that you can inhale from a freshly brewed cup of tea.” Not unless the Chinese have suddenly started injecting their brews with clean synthetics.

Jasmine Tea. Source: tea-terra.ru

I’m not a tea drinker, so perhaps my complete boredom stems from that fact. Maybe one has to adore both tea and jasmine tea, in specific, to get the appeal. Robin at Now Smell This certainly loves it, seems to be a bit of an expert on the subject, and drinks the beverage every day. She generally liked Kilian’s Imperial Tea, though she found it too clean when taken as a whole. For her, the perfume’s opening was “close to perfection,” ruined only by the eventual dominance of the white musk which almost verged on dryer fabric sheets. Her review reads, in part, as follows:

The Imperial Tea fragrance …[is] darned close to perfection. Bright and intensely fresh at first, it settles into a beautiful blend of green tea and jasmine. The jasmine is close to that in Kilian’s Love and Tears, rendered here just a tad cleaner, so that it has a satisfying depth but is neither rich nor indolic, and again as in Love and Tears, it’s clearly blended with other floral notes. The tea note verges on photorealistic — it’s not quite as tangy or aromatic2 as real jasmine tea leaves, but it’s reasonably close to what was promised, especially in the early stages: “the note that you inhale from a freshly brewed cup of tea”.3 The base is a clean, clean, clean blend of pale white musk + light wood notes. Imperial Tea feels summery, and slightly less feminine than Love and Tears.

Verdict: Imperial Tea is tantalizingly close, but in the end, no cigar. To my (admittedly finicky) nose, it is too synthetically fresh in the top notes (the opening blast is uncomfortably close to an air freshening product) and too clean in the dry down (not quite dryer sheet, but close). It’s pretty and I enjoyed wearing it, but the more I wore it, the more the clean ‘n fresh aura at both ends of the scent’s development bothered me, especially in the far dry down, when the jasmine and tea begin to fade. If they’d toned down the clean a notch, though, it would be a must buy, and it’s a shame Kilian never does flankers — I’d buy the unclean version of Imperial Tea in a heartbeat.

For another tea drinker, Neil of The Black Narcissus, Imperial Tea was a stunning, spectacular, and very sensual creation. In fact, his review is entitled “Sex Bomb in China.” He found the boldness of the opening to be positively “carnal” and the jasmine to be “hypnotically sexual.” He thought it was “paired beautifully with an equally no-nonsense fresh tea leaf accord, well tempered, the tea calming down those fierce jasmine blooms, the jasmine bolstering the tea[.]”

Jasmine Sambac. Source: flowallp.com

For similar reasons, The Smelly Vagabond took one sniff of Imperial Tea and practically “swooned,” right there and then on the floor of Harvey Nichols. He did so despite disliking prior scents from the Asian Tales Collection, and having some issues as an Asian when faced with “reductionistic views” of the region by Westerners making “Asian-inspired perfumes.” Yet, for all that, Imperial Tea blew him away:

Source: womanfaq.ru

The moment I sprayed it on, I was greeted with a bitter, smoky oolong tea infused with sweet, fragrant jasmine flowers and rounded off with a smooth and creamy milk. YES! I dare say I swooned and went into convulsions of pleasure there on the marbled floors of Harvey Nichols. Paying homage to historical and cultural heritage? Check. Creating the perfect blend of tea and flower? Check. Not Lipton tea? Check. Originality? Check check check check check. It’s been such a long time since any fragrance has tickled my cerebral fancy whilst moving me emotionally AND satisfying my ‘wearability-on-a-long-term-basis’ criterion. Imperial Tea does all that and then more, and thankfully never veers in the direction of the sticky, syrupy, sickly sweet jasmine marshmallow concoction that is also known as Love by the very same brand.

There isn’t much development in Imperial Tea, aside from a fading of the initial bitterness of the tea and sweetness of the jasmine, a dialing down of the volume. You’ve inhaled the glorious aroma of your tea and you’ve reveled in the complex sensations as you tasted it and drank it. And now you’re left with the aftertaste of those beautiful moments, and you are still, quiet and meditative. Perfect.

It must be a tea drinker’s thing. I suppose that big bang opening in the first hour justifies all the rest, even the sharp white musk and the speedy descent into blandness. More likely, I’m simply missing something from start to finish.

So, I suppose if you really love tea, and if you love jasmine tea in specific, you should go give Imperial Tea a sniff. I’ll be sitting in a café having a double expresso, and wearing a jasmine fragrance with a very different personality.

DETAILS:

Cost & Availability: Imperial Tea is an eau de parfum that costs $245, £177, or €185 for a 1.7oz/50 ml bottle that comes in a black, wooden box. A cheaper “refill” option is available for $145, along with a travel set of 4 x 0.25 minis for $155. In the U.S.: you can purchase Imperial Tea in any of the 3 options from Luckyscent, the Kilian website, and department stores like Bergdorf Goodman or Saks. Outside the U.S.: you can purchase Sacred Wood from the International Kilian website for €185 for the proper bottle, €80 for the refill, €105 for the 4 travel sprays, or €65 for a single travel decant in a silver container. In the U.K., you can find it at Harvey Nichols in the regular bottle and the refill option for £177 or £70, respectively. In Paris, the Kilian line is carried at Printemps. In the UAE, you can find Sacred Wood at the Paris Gallery. Elsewhere, you can find the Kilian line at Harvey Nichols stores around the world, from Dubai to Hong Kong. As for other locations, By Kilian’s Facebook page lists the following retailers and/or locations: “HARVEY NICHOLS (UK, Honk Kong, UAE, Saudi Arabia, Koweit, Turkey), Le BON MARCHE (France), TSUM (Russia), ARTICOLI (Russia) and HOLT RENFREW (Canada).” Samples: Surrender to Chance sells Imperial Tea starting at $3.99 for a 1/2 ml vial.

By Kilian Sacred Wood

Posted on April 27, 2014 by Kafkaesque

The joys of Mysore sandalwood are ostensibly and supposedly replicated in Sacred Wood, the latest fragrance from By Kilian. Not in my opinion. Not even remotely.

Source: lamasatonline.net

Sacred Wood was created by Calice Becker, and I think the story behind its creation is essential to understanding the limitations of the scent. As Luckyscent explains, Calice Becker originally intended the scent to be nothing more than a base for other fragrances. Kilian Hennessy loved it so much that he decided it should be a solo scent, all by itself, and with nothing else added. Sacred Wood is therefore meant to be a simple soliflore designed to recreate the smell of Mysore sandalwood via other means. To quote from Luckyscent:

No longer available to perfumers since it was over-harvested, Mysore sandalwood (Santalum album) is one of the ingredients they miss the most. Calice Becker had long been working on a blend that would reproduce its complexity: the warm, rosy, smoky, creamy, spicy facets that make the legendary wood such an irreplaceable material.

Though originally intended as a base, the composition worked so beautifully on its own, and within the theme of the collection, that Kilian Hennessy snapped it up for the last episode of his Asian Tales. Sacred Wood conjures the mystical scent with amazing accuracy: like its model, it is so rich and facetted it is a fragrance in and of itself. Its silky, sensuous scent is amazingly long-lasting, though never overwhelming. It is the answer to the prayers of all sandalwood lovers.

Personally, I think Luckyscent is completely delusional if they think Sacred Wood conjures up the mystical beauty of Mysore sandalwood with any accuracy. Regardless, they provide the following list of notes for the scent:

Steaming milk accord, sandalwood, carrot, cumin, elemi, cedar wood.

Source: graphicsbeam.com

Sacred Wood opens on my skin with green Australian sandalwood and sandalwood synthetics. The wood is green — very green — with grassiness and a miniscule touch of medicinal, herbal sourness underneath. It’s infused with the steamed milk accord which smells very authentic. Raw carrots and a touch of dry cedar lurk at the edges.

There is a distinct whiff of synthetics underlying the scent. Elena Vosnaki of The Perfume Shrine recently had a wonderful article on Fragrantica called “Synthetic Pathways to Sandalwood Notes,” regarding the various sandalwood substitutes on the market. I encourage you to read the piece in full if you’re interested, but I’ll quote some relevant sections here:

Several synthetics rose to the task of replicating [Mysore], often at a quite elevated cost despite their man-made aspect, and many times entering into venerable “modern classics.”

Nowadays many of those synthetics are used in combination with or attendance of the harvests of Mysore-identical sandalwood trees being farmed on Australian soil. These are trees of the India native species and not of the different, native Australian sandalwood (Santalum spicatum, such as the one used in Le Labo’s Santal 33 which is a different species with a different, sharper and lightly smoky scent profile, nor of the New Caledonia sandalwood variety (steadily gaining in popularity). […][¶]

Among synthetic sandalwood notes, Polysantol, a former Firmenich trademark, is quite popular thanks to its intense diffusion and realistic replication. Otherwise known as santol pentenol due to its structure, it enters many a fragrance composition thanks to its part herbal, part lived-in warmth. Beta santalol or technically (-)-(1’S,2’R,4’R)-(Z)-beta-santalol is also a nature identical typical sandalwood note. […][¶]

Ebanol [(1S,2’S,3’R)-Ebanol], a Givaudan trademark, is noted for its potency. Symrise proposes its Fleursandol which has a very strong, animalic-laced sandalwood note with floral elements surfacing. […][¶]

Ebanol via Givaudan

Javanol via Givaudan.

Javanol, Ebanol, Sandela, Santaliff (IFF santal mysore core), and Santalore are extremely powerful and true to sandalwood synthetics. In fact this might explain the curious effect one experiences when handling them: it was enough to smell a 10% dilution to anesthetize my nose for several hours later, a state I was taken out of by squeezing fresh lemon juice. A perfumer must be cautious and restrained when using them in order not to end up making the wearer of the finished fragrance tired and anosmic to them. Extreme dilution (even lower than 0.5%) is recommended, as alongside Iso-E Super (woody cedar) and methyl ionone (violets) those notes cause rapid nose fatigue.

At least one of those synthetics is present in Sacred Wood, and noticeable in varying degrees from the perfume’s very start to its dying moments on my skin. And no, it does not authentically recreate the smell of Mysore sandalwood. There is a comment to the Fragrantica article where “Eeyore III” quotes Luca Turin on why chemical synthetics fail to properly reproduce the scent of actual Mysore wood:

The reason synthetics don’t smell (that much) like sandalwood has been explained, chemically, by Luca Turin: “(Z)-(-)-beta-santalol, the molecule present to about 25 per cent in natural sandalwood oil and largely responsible for its gorgeous smell, is, synthetically speaking, a real back-breaker. The best total synthesis to date is an eleven-step affair, and any research chemist who tried to talk his production colleagues into making this would be quickly shouted down.“– L. Turin,The Secret of Scent p.77.

What I smell in Sacred Wood is green — all the way through. And greenness is not what I associate with Mysore sandalwood. It is redness. Dark, rich, red spiciness, with slightly smoky creaminess. I grew up in a time when Mysore was in almost every Oriental perfume, while shops sold Mysore beads, Mysore boxes, Mysore sculptures, and everything else in sight. I know what Mysore smells and looks like. And not one iota of that smell is evident in Sacred Wood.

Mysore sandalwood. Source: Fragrantica

Before you mention the new Australian plantation with its Indian Mysore trees, let me say that I’ve smelled that, too. I was sent a small bottle of the oil by the company as part of what was meant to be a coordinated multi-blog review or Basenotes article to praise its merits. I could not do so, and wrote bluntly that it did not smell at all like Mysore to me, so my comment was not used.

My bottle of the Australian plantation oil. Photo: my own.

To me, that Australian plantation wood was green. Green, green, green with sour buttermilk and grassy undertones, along with an occasional medicinal touch. The trees may ostensibly be Mysore, but they’re incredibly young. I think it’s going to take another 60 years, at a minimum, for them to age enough to take on a true Mysore aroma. They are not there yet, not even remotely. I wouldn’t be surprised if Sacred Wood contains some oil from that lone Australian plantation, because I have mentioned the word “green,” yet?

I will admit with all honesty that I’m the wrong person to be writing a review of Sacred Wood. I am a die-hard Mysore sandalwood snob, and I cannot stand the Australian varieties — whether the Santalum album from that plantation, or the Australian Santalum spicatum cousin. I dislike both green sandalwood, and the generic beigeness of the Australian variety. I don’t think the latter even deserves the name “sandalwood” at all.

Source: blinds-wallpaper.net

In fact, I sometimes think that all perfumers should stop using the word entirely and substitute “beige woods” unless they are spending a king’s ransom on the actual stuff. Neela Vermeire has done so for her perfumes, with the spectacular Trayee having the greatest amount, and so has Laurent Mazzone for LM Parfums‘ Hard Leather. Chanel‘s beautiful Bois des Iles supposedly has no sandalwood in it at all, but Jacques Polges has successfully recreated the smell through some miracle, so he gets a total pass from me and much worship for his wizardry. All the rest of the perfume houses should bloody well call the wood something else entirely. Yes, it is that much of a sore point for me.

Sacred Wood did not put me in a good mood, as you may have noticed. I tried to like it, I really did. I simply couldn’t get past the greenness, or the synthetic twang in the base. At one point, I told myself to approach it like a non-sandalwood fragrance, and to see the good in Sacred Wood. So, the rest of this review will be me trying my best, lying to myself, and pretending to be someone else.

Source: seriouseats.com

Sacred Wood’s opening is interesting, I suppose. The steamed milk accord is truly authentic in feel, though it occasionally flashes as “sour milk” on my skin, in a way that replicates badly boiled milk a little too closely for my liking. The cold carrots remind me a little of how iris can be; I’m not crazy about that aspect, either. The cumin doesn’t appear in a distinct way at all, and the elemi initially doesn’t translate either as something lemony or as the wood’s more common smoky, dry, peppered features.

For the most part, Sacred Wood’s opening on my skin is merely a blend of boiled milk, green Australian wood, and cold carrots with a synthetic twinge. It’s a very strong bouquet initially, but thin in body, light in weight, and sheer. It lacks oomph or much character, if you ask me, and I’m saying that in my pretend role as someone who supposedly doesn’t know or care about Mysore sandalwood.

Sacred Wood changes at the end of the first hour. The elemi’s smoky, peppered sides rise to the surface, the perfume turns smokier, the milky accord starts to fade away, and the carrots vanish. The sour undertone to the fragrance remains, though it waxes and wanes in its visibility over the next few hours. Oddly, the sweetness and spiciness of the “sandalwood” also vary. Sometimes, the wood seems to have turned sweet and spicy, to go with that new touch of smokiness. The majority of the time, however, it’s either sour, the grassiness reappears, or the perfume just continues on its simple trajectory of green “sandalwood” with elemi smoke.

Source: Micks Images. http://www.micksimages.com/Smoke-II(2399572).htm

One thing to be said for Sacred Wood is that its greenness turns creamy. Roughly 2.5 hours into the perfume’s development, it lies just an inch above the skin as a very creamy, smooth, slightly smoky sandalwood and elemi fragrance. The synthetics retreat fully to the sidelines, and… well, that’s about it. For hours. And hours. Creamy green woods with elemi. At the end of the 7th hour, the elemi starts to fade away, and the first touch of the sandalwood synthetics returns. By the start of the 9th hour, Sacred Wood is green santal with synthetics. And it remains that way until it finally dies away 12.75 hours from the start.

Source: polychemcoatings.com

I was bored out of my mind, and spent a good deal of that time fantasizing about anything else I could put on my skin. Even as someone pretending not to have issues with Australian “sandalwood,” Sacred Wood doesn’t come across as anything particularly interesting. It is a bloody one-note trajectory that starts as boiled milk green sandalwood, turns into lightly smoked green sandalwood, and then ends as green-beige sandalwood. I always say that there is nothing wrong with linearity if you like the scent in question, but I obviously don’t. And, come on, this is a simple base accord that Kilian Hennessey would like to charge you $245 for the supposed privilege of wearing. I realise there are cheaper refill or travel options, but no thanks. To any of it.

Yes, I’m being peevish, and yes, perhaps that’s unfair. But, dammit, I’ve been a die-hard Mysore sandalwood lover for over 30 years, and it’s really hard to wrap my head around a scent like this one. It’s not even trying to fix the problem or to compensate for the limitations by adding more elements to create an end result that is closer to the real thing. That’s the real kicker for me. Plenty of perfumers do that, like Serge Lutens in some of his santal creations where additional spices or accords are brought in to bridge the gap between the Australian wood and the synthetics. Not here. It’s a simple, occasionally creamy, green wood base that somehow Kilian Hennessy thinks is sufficient all by itself. It’s not. And I feel the same way about it as I do when L’Oreal tries to pass off the disgusting modern “Opium” as the real thing. It’s adding insult to injury.

At least one blogger out there seems to understand. Robin at Now Smell This says in her review of Sacred Wood, “if you’re an old-school sandalwood fiend looking for a fix, it might not hit the same spot.” No, it bloody well doesn’t. Parsing her review carefully, and noticing her statements in the comment section, I suspect she feels the same way as I do about Sacred Wood, but she’s simply tactful and diplomatic in a way that I can’t be. She writes:

Sacred Wood opens on citrus-y, spicy wood; it’s not a dead ringer for my long-time love, Diptyque Tam Dao, but it reminded me of Tam Dao right away: the opening has that same sheer but wood-focused feeling, at the other end of the spectrum from the more ornately decorated sandalwood trio from Serge Lutens (Santal Blanc, Santal de Mysore and Santal Majuscule). As the citrus burns off, Sacred Wood moves to the middle: it gets spicier and more milky-creamy, but at the same time, the woods get softer and more indistinct.

It’s closest to the ‘olfactory impression of an authentic Sandalwood from Mysore’ in the middle stages. Eventually, it’s a mild woodsy blend, reasonably sandalwood-y but without the richness of old-school sandalwood fragrances. If you’ve never smelled an old-school sandalwood fragrance, that won’t matter to you, but if you have one on hand, you’ll notice how comparatively thin the base of Sacred Wood is. I wore Sacred Wood next to a drop of Santal Blanc and a drop of Chanel Bois des Iles extrait,2 and the Sacred Wood, smells, well, modern. Obviously, you may or may not prefer it that way. […][¶]

Verdict: I was expecting a sandalwood-bomb, and Sacred Wood isn’t exactly that. It’s a lovely quiet woods scent, though, very wearable, and not at all dull[.]

We shall have to agree to disagree on everything, but how Sacred Wood doesn’t measure up to actual “old-school sandalwood fragrances,” and how “thin” its base is in comparison. I suppose her feelings can be understood, given how much better her experience and version of Sacred Wood was to mine. Green-beige woods and synthetic sandalwood in a dead flat-line are most certainly dull, in my opinion.

The best thing that can be said for Sacred Wood is that it’s smooth and I suppose it’s wearable, especially if you have never experienced Mysore sandalwood. That may be why it has some very enthusiastic reviews on Fragrantica. You can read them if you’re interested. I’m having great difficulty in not writing, “Meh” to everything, or banging my head against a wall. So, it’s probably best that I end this here and now. I shall seek comfort in the arms of Crabtree & Evelyn‘s vintage, discontinued Extrait de Mysore Sandalwood, and mourn.

DETAILS:

Cost & Availability: Sacred Wood is an eau de parfum that costs $245, £177, or €185 for a 1.7oz/50 ml bottle that comes in a black, wooden box. A cheaper “refill” option is available for $145, along with a travel set of 4 x 0.25 minis for $155. In the U.S.: you can purchase Sacred Wood in any of the 3 options from Luckyscent, the Kilian website, and department stores like Bergdorf Goodman or Saks. Outside the U.S.: you can purchase Sacred Wood from the International Kilian website for €185 for the proper bottle, €80 for the refill, €105 for the 4 travel sprays, or €65 for a single travel decant in a silver container. In the U.K., you can find it at Harvey Nichols in the regular bottle and the refill option for £177 or £70, respectively. In Paris, the Kilian line is carried at Printemps. In the UAE, you can find Sacred Wood at the Paris Gallery. Elsewhere, you can find the Kilian line at Harvey Nichols stores around the world, from Dubai to Hong Kong. As for other locations, By Kilian’s Facebook page lists the following retailers and/or locations: “HARVEY NICHOLS (UK, Honk Kong, UAE, Saudi Arabia, Koweit, Turkey), Le BON MARCHE (France), TSUM (Russia), ARTICOLI (Russia) and HOLT RENFREW (Canada).” Samples: Surrender to Chance sells Sacred Wood starting at $3.99 for a 1/2 ml vial.

Stéphane Humbert Lucas 777 2022 Generation Homme and Femme

Posted on April 23, 2014 by Kafkaesque

Source: Stéphane Humbert Lucas.

The Stéphane Humbert Lucas 777 line has two fragrances called 2022 Generation, one for men and one for women. Both are largely unisex fragrances that were released in 2013 and are pure parfum extraits in concentration, but they have very different profiles. I had very mixed reactions to these two fragrances, but neither one evoked any sense of place, any story, or any imagery in my mind. Nothing at all, in fact, which says something in and of itself. So, we’ll get right to it.

2022 GENERATION HOMME:

2022 Generation Homme is a perfume extrait with 24% concentration, and is described in the press materials I received as follows:

Powdery mist of agarwood
Dry and Distinguished Oud, vertical opus.

Top: Yuzu zest – Blackcurrant – Mint
Middle: Cambodian Oud
Base: Precious Oud – Spices – Balsamic Notes.

Blackcurrant or cassis. Source: The Perfume Shrine.

2022 Generation Homme opens on my skin with a powerful wave of ISO E Super, followed by a crisp, chilly, leafy greenness that is a mix of the yuzu and mint. Subtle hints of tart, tangy, juicy cassis (or blackcurrant) dance at the edges. A warm, caramel-like sweetness fills the base, followed by a creamy woodiness and a sprinkling of cardamom. The overall impression is of intense ISO E Super with creamy caramel sweetness and abstract woods. It is a very airy, light, summery bouquet with initially moderate sillage of about 2-3 inches from 3 small atomizer spritzes.

ISO E Super. Source: Fragrantica

Regular readers know my feelings about ISO E Super. I despise it. I can put up with small quantities, especially if a fragrance has a plethora of other notes, but I become extremely irritated if a scent has a lot of the chemical. Some people enjoy ISO E Super, and a few find it to be a pheromone, while others are lucky enough not to be able to detect it at all. I don’t fall into any of those categories, and my nose is extremely sensitive to the aroma. But I’ll still grit my teeth and bear it if the ISO E Super manifests itself as a mere “woody buzz” (as Luca Turin once described it) or as mere pepperiness. However, I become positively livid when it wafts antiseptic or rubbing alcohol odors. I don’t buy expensive perfume to smell like a visit to a hospital where a doctor has disinfected my arm before giving me an injection. And I cannot bear it when that particular aroma hits me in massive quantities. Like here.

Source: drugs.com

2022 Generation Homme smells like rubbing alcohol and antiseptic on my skin. It’s sharp, chemical, and slightly peppered. It also seems to grow stronger with every passing minute, far outweighing the crisp, fresh notes. The latter all seem to blend into an abstract, amorphous haze of greenness, only occasionally accentuated by a clear burst of cassis. Or perhaps the problem is that there is so much of the damn, bloody chemical emanating from my skin that it’s hard for me to detect 2022 Generation Homme’s nuances behind the solid, brick wall of astringent mixed with caramel sweetness. It’s an odd mix, which renders me even more unenthusiastic about the fragrance.

Source: fantom-xp.com

If I focus really hard on everything but the damn ISO E, I can genuinely appreciate the creamy woodiness of the base, though it never once translates to my nose as actual Mysore, no matter what the notes may say. Generation Homme feels simultaneously both fresh and clean, as well as creamy, woody, and sweet. The mint and yuzu are quite abstract on my skin, lacking clear delineation, but they melt into the white musk in the base to create a definite sense of freshness. Their airy crispness lies in sharp contrast to the sense of a thick caramel creaminess mixed with dusty, exotic cardamom. Honestly, I find it to be a discordant mix. It’s like two different, non-matching perfumes have been melded together with a bridge of ISO E Supercrappy.

Source: layoutsparks.com

Generation Homme is said to contain two different sorts of oud. On my skin, a vague sense of some wooded smokiness appears at the end of the first hour, but I never smell “the noble rot” as agarwood is sometimes called. As with all the SHL 777 line, the oud that Monsieur Lucas uses never smells like the kind in Amouage, Montale, or Xerjoff fragrances. It is merely slightly smoky with a subtle muskiness and a tinge of sweetness. In any event, it takes less than 20 minutes for the oud to fade into Generation Homme’s base dominated by that caramel sweetness and the abstract, wooded creaminess.

I tried to tolerate 2022 Generation Homme, I really did. Regular readers know that I will put up with a lot of fragrances that are difficult, challenging, or unpleasant, including those with ISO E Super. I couldn’t do it in this case. The first time I tried 2022 Generation Homme, I lasted 2 hours before I scrubbed it off. The second time, I endured exactly 3 hours and 15 minutes before I couldn’t bear it any more.

The problem is that the ISO E Super simply becomes stronger and stronger on my skin. At the start of the second hour, it completely takes over, and Generation Homme is wafting roughly 70% rubbing alcohol antiseptic on my arm and 30% caramel, creamy woods. By the time the 3rd hour rolled around, it was 85% ISO E Super — and the number seemed to be climbing. It is undoubtedly an issue of my skin chemistry and how it reacts to aroma-chemicals in really large doses, so perhaps the rest of you will be luckier. But life is too short for me to put up with misery for the sake of a thorough review. 2022 Generation Homme is a complete scrubber for me, and a massive disappointment from a line that I had liked because it felt refined and wasn’t replete with aromachemicals.

Source: Stéphane Humbert Lucas.

The price does not make any of this more palatable. 2022 Homme retails for €235 for a small 50 ml bottle. I don’t know what the U.S. amount will be, but, whatever it is, it’s going to be too high for a scent with a largely generic, designer, mainstream profile of crisp, clean, woody musks with sweetness and a walloping amount of ISO E chemicals. The refined luxuriousness and elegance of the other SHL 777 fragrances — like the Khol de Bahrein iris-heliotrope-amber that initially caught my attention and made me pay heed to the line — is missing from 2022 Generation Homme. To someone who can’t detect ISO E Super, I’m sure it will come across as an approachable, simple, nice, easy fragrance that may be great for summer months. Perhaps, but that doesn’t mean that Generation Homme is original, interesting or even particularly niche in feel. And I personally do not want to spend €235 for a designer-like, mainstream scent with a generic profile.

I’m becoming more peevish and irritated with every word I write about 2022 Generation Homme, so let’s just get to the next one.

2022 GENERATION FEMME:

Let me start by saying that 2022 Generation Femme is better. Significantly better. In fact, it has some very enjoyable bits, though the scent is still largely unoriginal and with a designer feel, in my opinion.

Source: Stéphane Humbert Lucas.

Like its male counterpart, 2022 Generation Femme is an extrait de parfum with 24% concentration and was released in 2013. The press release documents that I received describe the fragrance and its notes as follows:

Sandalwood and crystallized almonds
Iridescent Perfume dedicated to sensual and artful women…

Top: Imperial Almonds – Neroli – Nectarine
Middle: Heliotrope – White Tea – Galbanum
Base: Black Jasmine – Sandalwood from Mysore – Tonka Beans

Petitgrain art, “Young at Heart” via aromatherapy4soul.com –

2022 Generation Femme opens on my skin with sharp, pungent, intensely green notes of bitter neroli and galbanum, infused by equally bitter raw almonds and petitgrain. The notes may not mention it, but I definitely smell petitgrain and its particular form of woodiness. At the edges of 2022 Generation Femme, there is a touch of heliotrope which smells very floral, and is initially far from its usual sweetened, vanillic, meringue powder. The image of greenness and pungency — so well underscored by the galbanum — is countered by subtle flickers of sweet jasmine, but they are very subtle.

From afar, 2022 Generation Femme’s main opening bouquet on my skin is of an extremely bright, potent neroli scent with petitgrain. The perfume has a very retro feel to it, like something that I’ve smelled before, though I can’t place where. One of the blog’s readers, “Taleb,” wrote in a comment that he found 2022 Generation Femme to be similar to Cartier‘s Le Must de Cartier. It’s been years since I smelled the latter and, despite having a relatively good olfactory memory, all I can recall is of a crisp cleanness with white musk. The fact that Le Must left no impression on me says something, but the bottom line is that I can’t tell you if 2022 Generation Femme is similar or not. All I can say is that the perfume feels retro, and not strikingly different from some mainstream scents.

Abstract Green Fantasy by Bruno Paolo Benedetti. Source: imagesinactions.photoshelter.com (Website link embedded within.)

2022 Generation Femme slowly shifts. The almonds retreat to the background after 5 minutes, while a clean, white musk stirs in the base alongside a touch of creamy, initially greenish (non-Mysore) sandalwood. The neroli and petitgrain grow stronger, while the galbanum adds a touch of herbal pungency. I don’t detect any tea or tonka, and the jasmine’s syrupy sweetness is extremely minor. As a whole, Generation Femme is a very airy, crisp bouquet that feels almost chypre-like with its greenness. Three small sprays create a tiny cloud of roughly 2-3 inches at first, though the sillage drops to about an inch above the skin after 90 minutes.

Source: hatdieungon.vn

It takes a little bit of time for 2022 Generation Femme to stop being primarily neroli and petitgrain in focus. The almond reappears at the end of the first hour, though it is subtle and quite muted at first. It now smells like the hard-shelled, vanilla-coated, European sweets that you see at Italian weddings called “Confetti” (or “Jordan almonds” in America), but the aroma is still overshadowed by the neroli and petitgrain. 2022 Femme only changes around the 90-minute mark, when the heliotrope and tonka fully rise up to the surface, softening the pungent, woody-citrus duet and providing a lovely, thin dusting of almond vanilla and heliotrope sweetness.

Meringues via motherearthnews.com

As some of the regular readers know, I’m a sucker for heliotrope’s soft serenity and comforting delicacy, so it’s definitely my favorite part of the scent. I’m even happier when it becomes a more prominent part of the scent. At the end of the 3rd hour, and the start of the 4th, Generation Femme is really pretty blend of raw almonds, green neroli, heliotrope almond meringue, and vanilla tonka powder. It’s far from being gourmand in nature, thanks to the bitterness of the bright neroli which keeps the sweetness in check. Instead, 2022 Femme is now a mix of citric freshness and bitterness, with sweetness and powdered coziness. The perfume hovers just an inch above the skin at this point, feels softer and has lost some of its clean musk.

Source: merlyimpressions.co.uk

Despite the heliotrope’s prettiness, it doesn’t remain as a constant presence. Generation Femme is primarily about neroli on my skin, and the perfume regains that focus about 5.5 hours into its evolution. It is primarily a bouquet of green, spicy, bright and bitter neroli with tonka powder and only a light trace of heliotrope. Tiny flickers of almonds remain, but what is much more noticeable is a new creaminess in the base. It doesn’t smell like Mysore to me (and you know what a finicky snob I am about sandalwood), but it is lovely nonetheless. It’s a smooth, creamy woodiness that is lightly spiced, and it works very well with the neroli. The whole thing is dusted with sweetened powder, but it only occasionally smells like heliotrope in a distinct way.

For the most part, Generation Femme’s middle phase centers mainly on spicy, powdered neroli with sweetness, all resting atop fluctuating degrees of creamy woodiness in the base. The latter begins to fade away as the hours pass, leaving a drydown that is just neroli, vanilla, and sweetened powder. In its final moments, 2022 Generation Femme is a simple blur of vanilla powder with a trace of spicy neroli. It lasted just over 14.5 hours on my perfume-consuming skin.

ALL IN ALL:

Source: backdropsforyourlife.wordpress.com

As a whole, both 2022 Generation fragrances seem intended to be different takes on crisp, green freshness combined with sweetness and woody creaminess. They’re both simple, approachable, easy scents that would probably work well in the summer months, and I think they are quite unisex in nature.

However, I also think that they lack distinctiveness or originality. 2022 Generation Femme feels like a more expensive version of a commercial, mainstream profile, but it is generally well done. I have no words to express my antipathy towards Generation Homme. There are plenty of niche fragrances that inundate you with aromachemicals, especially ISO E Super, but that doesn’t mean that it’s justified, in my opinion. Particularly for the increased cost. I expected a lot more from the SHL 777 line.

Both fragrances costs €235 for a small 50 ml bottle. As noted above, the complete 777 line will be in American stores at Luckyscent and Osswald NY at the end of April. I don’t have the American prices, but €235 translates to just under $325 at today’s rate of exchange. My experience with European exclusives is that the final American price is usually much less, so my rough guess for 2022 Generation would be around $295 a bottle. That’s merely a personal guess, though.

Generally, I try to provide comparative reviews or assessments for you to make up your own mind about a scent. If you’re interested, there are some brief, early comments in a Basenotes thread on both 2022 Generation fragrances, but I’m afraid I’m insufficiently inspired to talk much more about either one of them. Generation Femme is the better of the two, in my opinion, and a fully unisex fragrance that you may want to try if you’re someone who loves citric freshness with bitterness, greenness, vanillic sweetness, and some creamy woods. For the sake of politeness, I have no further comment on the other one.

Disclosure: Perfume sample courtesy of Stéphane Humbert Lucas. That did not influence this review. I do not do paid reviews, and my opinions are my own.

DETAILS:

Cost & Availability: Both versions of 2022 Generation are pure parfum in concentration and come in a 50 ml size that costs €235. I do not know the American pricing. The 777 line should be at Luckyscent and Osswald NYC shortly. [Update 5/2/14– Osswald has received the 777 line, and sells the two Generation fragrances for $309 each.] Currently, the Stéphane Humbert Lucas’ website is under construction, and doesn’t have an e-store. Outside the U.S.: the best online resource is First in Fragrance which currently has about half of the SHL 777 line, including the two 2022 Generation fragrances. The newer releases should be arriving soon. In London, you can find the entire SHL 777 line at Harrod’s Black Room, while in Paris, they are available at Printemps under the name 777. Zurich’s Osswald also carries the line, but I don’t think they have an e-store any more. The Swiss perfumery, Theodora, also has SHL 777, but no e-store. In Cannes, France, a store called Taizo is said to carry the brand, but I don’t see 777 on their website at this time. In the Middle East, the UAE company called Sagma Corp talks about the line, but they are merely distributors and don’t have an e-store. However, Souq.com has about 6 of the earlier fragrances which it sells for AED 1,500. In Russia, SHL 777 is available at Lenoma. Ukraine’s Sana Hunt Luxury store also carries the line, but they don’t have an e-store. Samples: None of the U.S. sample sites currently carry this fragrance, but Luckyscent and Osswald NYC will be your best option once the SHL 777 perfumes are released in America.