DSH Perfumes Bodhi Sativa & Vanille Botanique

Posted on March 26, 2014 by Kafkaesque

The wonders of patchouli and balsamic resins are the respective focus of two fragrances from DSH Perfumes. The first is Bodhi Sativa which presents patchouli in all its many facets, while the second is Vanille Botanique which actually focuses on Tolu and Peru balsams to create a dark, smoky, ambered fragrance that is infused with vanilla, then laced with civet for a slight touch of animalic muskiness.

BODHI SATIVA:

10 ml bottle of Bodhi Sativa. Source: DSH website.

The DSH website describes Bodhi Sativa as a “suave and elegant patchouli perfume with a sexy, bohemian twist: a note of cannabis is hidden in the mix.” The fragrance was Ms. Hurwitz’s entry in the “Summer of Patchouli Love 2011” / Peace, Love and Patchouli! project, and she wrote on her blog that she sought to make a summery, lighter patchouli, to the extent that was possible.

At the same time, however, Bodhi Sativa is a completely botanical fragrance, a fact which carries a particular significance. You might be wondering, what exactly is a botanical scent, and how does it differ from a regular “natural” fragrance? Well, in a nutshell, it really comes to essential oils in their most concentrated or absolute form. In other words, a 100% botanical fragrance is really like an attar in richness, though not all attars are heavy and dense in nature.

According to my email correspondence with Ms. Hurwitz, the notes in Bodhi Sativa are:

East Indian patchouli, brown oakmoss absolute, hemp, Indian davana, frankincense co2 extract, cassis bud absolute, champaca absolute, osmanthus absolute, beeswax absolute, dalmation sage, green mandarin, jasmine sambac absolute, lemon, grapefruit, centifolia rose absolute, galbanum, rosewood, australian sandalwood, buddhawood, Texas cedar, vanilla absolute, Tolu balsam, and benzoin.

Ms. Hurwitz added that a number of these elements form the “cannabis” accord mentioned on her website. In short, there is no actual marijuana in Bodhi Sativa

Painting by: Dorian Monsalve at dorianscratchart.com

Bodhi Sativa opens on my skin with seemingly every possible facet of patchouli imaginable. It’s a rich, dense, chewy bouquet of booziness, greenness, earthiness with wet, sweet soil, dusted with spices, infused with smoke, and then placed on a bed of ambered sweetness. The intensity of the cognac-like booze fades within minutes, however, leaving a very earthy, sweet aroma. Tiny hints of vanilla simmer underneath while green touches similar to wet leaves are nestled all around. A very brown tonality flitters about, feeling almost like decayed moss and humus, with a touch of sweet peat. At the same time, there is a definite aroma of hemp that smells like sweet hay. The whole thing is flecked by smoke, honey, and green woods.

It’s an extremely complex layering of notes up close, reflecting every single possible nuance of the main ingredient. From afar, however, the main impression is merely of a kaleidoscopic patchouli dominated by earthiness. The latter becomes even more prominent after 5 minutes, particularly once all lingering traces of the cognac fade away. Taking its place is the first suggestion of woodiness, led by the cedar, then the rosewood. I don’t detect any floral notes at all.

Bodhi Sativa is extremely concentrated and rich in feel, but it is also surprisingly airy. The perfume feels soft, and the sillage matches. 3 massive, long smears gives me just 2 inches in initial projection, and it drops down to just above the skin after 10 minutes. However, it remains there for the next two hours, wafting its dense, chewy, gold-brown-green hues. Bodhi Sativa only turns into a skin scent on me after the start of the 3rd hour.

Source: footage.shutterstock.com

The perfume starts to shift and change 20 minutes into its development. At first, it is merely the lightest touch of mint that doesn’t alter Bodhi Sativa’s dominant focus on sweet earthiness. I do like the latter, but I wish there were an edge to the soft mushiness. It’s hard to explain, but Bodhi Sativa feels a little too ambered and earthy at this stage; I think it needs more grit, spice, and smoke. The latter exists, but it’s more akin to the merest suggestion in the background. I realise that sounds nitpicky, but, for a true “patch head,” the differences between various scents can be as important and significant as a Merlot versus an Old Vines Zinfandel. I prefer my patchoulis more like the latter, instead of the former with its mild sweetness.

Source: Stock image. footage.shutterstock.com

At the 30 minute mark, Bodhi Sativa turns quite green. The camphor blooms, added a needed sharpness and edge to the sweet, earthy, ambered mushiness. Yet, Bodhi Sativa is not a true headshop scent. It’s more akin to a mix of Les Nereides Patchouli Antique mixed with Reminiscence’s Elixir de Patchouli, with a tiny side of Serge Lutens‘ Borneo 1834 (minus its strong chocolate note). Around the same time, the orange pokes up its head for the first time, but it disappears quickly, retreats to the sidelines, and only re-emerges on occasion later down the road. There are still no florals on my skin, but there is a growing whiff of the “cannabis” accord that adds a tobacco-like undercurrent to the increasingly green patchouli.

Bodhi Sativa is a largely linear scent that only changes by small degrees on my skin. As a whole, it is a blend of earthy, camphorous, sweet, and ambered patchouli with hints of cannabis, smoke, and tobacco. The main change over time is that the scent grows muskier, drier, and browner. The ambered sweetness slowly diffuses amidst the camphorous greenness, the impression of “cannabis”-like tobacco grows stronger, and the perfume takes on a slightly animalic edge. I’m assuming the latter stems from the cassis buds. The note is not feral, and it’s definitely not urinous; instead, it is more like an occasional glimmer of sharp muskiness.

Source: layoutsparks.com

Much more important than all of this is the tolu balsam in the base which fully infuses the patchouli after 4 hours. The resin is one of my favorites, but not here. There is something about the note on my skin that comes across as dirty, and it happened with Vanille Botanique as well. It’s hard to explain, but the tolu balsam has a very odd combination of brown muskiness, smokiness, staleness, and mustiness. It doesn’t feel like a well-rounded, warm, treacly resinousness, but a dank, leathery dirtiness with sharp smoke and stale, earthy brownness.

The note becomes a constant companion to the patchouli, almost seeming to dominate it at times, and transforms Bodhi Sativa into something that feels very much like an all-natural scent. The best way I can explain it is that Bodhi Sativa doesn’t feel like more than the more refined perfume perfumes in Ms. Hurwitz’s line. It’s hard to fault Bodhi Sativa for being exactly what it is, so I know it’s my personal issue, but I’m simply not keen on the end result. The mix of slightly camphorous patchouli with brown, musky dirtiness lasts for hours on my skin, thanks to the botanical concentration. All in all, Bodhi Sativa endured for just short of 13.5 hours, though the perfume was difficult to detect without hard sniffing right on the skin after the start of the 6th hour. It was around that same time that Bodhi Sativa also turned more sheer, feeling like an intimate coating of brownness.

Amongst the various reviews for Bodhi Sativa is one from the blog Perfume-Smelling’ Things. The site was one of the judges in a large perfume competition focused on all-natural patchouli fragrances from 13 different perfumers. I believe this is the “Summer of Love” patchouli project for which Bodhi Sativa was originally created. Donna ranked it in fourth place, writing:

It is a very serene, calming scent, minty “tea with milk” on me with a slightly sweetened gourmand aura to start, and later the tea subsides as the fragrance gets richer and warmer without becoming overly sweet or strong, and it’s as elegant as a polished stone. I enjoyed this fragrance very much and Dawn’s expert hand is apparent in the balanced execution. In fact it was this subtlety and smoothness that caused it to not quite make the cut since I felt that I wanted to choose a fragrance that had a strong patchouli character yet be something I could really like, and the project is all about patchouli. It’s a beautiful fragrance and I would definitely wear it, but for me it just did not have that standout patchouli zing I was looking for in the winning composition.

Source: rgbstock.com

The Scent Hive blog was another one of the judges in the competition, and chose Bodhi Sativa as one of the three favorites out of the entries in a blind test. The post reads, in part:

man, if you love the kind vintage patchouli, Bodhi Sativa is speaking your language. For me it doesn’t conjure up smoke filled VW buses, but its leathery and slightly animalic aspect combined with a rich and minty aged patchouli certainly alludes to the herbal smoke. I love that Bodhi Sativa is an unabashedly patchouli fragrance. It begins and ends with the tenacious essence, but because it is harmonized with some fruity-floral nuances- I’m guessing osmanthus and rose otto- it’s never one-dimensional and wears nicely as a summer scent.

For March at The Perfume Posse, patchouli isn’t her favorite note, but she also enjoyed Bodhi Sativa, writing:

This one smells the most like “classical” perfumery to me, with a heavy overlay of patch. It’s definitely a patch-oriented fragrance without being at all hippie-ish. The woods and incense really shine through, and that rosey-vanilla makes it warm and rich rather than floral. While I wouldn’t exactly call it light, and I definitely wouldn’t have busted it out in our August heatwave, it’s a fragrance I’d turn to in the winter months when I’m craving an “old lady” scent (high praise from me) with both heat and an edge to it.

Source: all4myspace.com

There is only one review for Bodhi Sativa on Fragrantica. There, “Leathermountain” writes:

Before looking at the notes, I smelled chocolate ink. Once I saw the notes, I could smell both of them quite potently. Later, it was back to chocolate ink. Very close to the skin, and delightful!

As noted above, I’m not as enthused as the other commentators. My reaction surprised me as I enjoyed the opening minutes of Bodhi Sativa, and quite expected to love the rest. Still, if you’re a hardcore patch head like me, you may want to check out Bodhi Sativa. It has an old-school style that you may enjoy.

VANILLE BOTANIQUE:

Vanille Botanique is quite a different take on vanilla. In fact, you might argue that it’s really not a “vanilla” scent at all. Instead, the primary focus is on dark Tolu and Peru balsams which flow through the scent with the thickness and turgidness of the Amazon river. Vanilla brackets the river on either side, but the main focus is always on those very smoky, treacly, almost leathered resins. Ms. Hurwitz has said that she is not a huge fan of traditional vanilla fragrances and, here, she’s twisted the genre on its head to create a more grown-up interpretation of the note.

Photo: Christopher Martin. Source: christophermartinphotography.com

Vanille Botanique is also a 100% completely botanical fragrance which the DSH website describes as follows:

Vanille Botanique is a luscious, balsamic vanilla in the classical style. A soft jasmine heart and bergamot top note balance and round out the bouquet. Such deliciousness!

1 dram mini bottle of DSH perfume. Source: DSH Perfumes website.

According to Ms. Hurwitz and Fragrantica, the notes in Vanille Botanique include:

Top: bergamot, rosewood, mandarin, lemon;

Heart: grandiforum jasmine, Turkish rose otto, beeswax absolute, butter co2 extract;

Base: Vanilla absolute, Tahitian vanilla, Siam benzoin, Tolu balsam, Peru balsam, tonka bean absolute, civet, and labdanum.

Source: seriouseats.com

Vanille Botanique opens on my skin with lemon and bergamot in a flood of syrupy resins, infused with brown sugar, an almost boozy Bourbon-like vanilla, and a touch of regular, custardy vanilla. On the one hand, Vanille Botanique feels like caramelized creme brulée but, on the other, it is pure resin. The latter smells simultaneously like sweetened smoke, sticky treacle, leathered darkness, and a touch of cinnamon. Within minutes, the lemon grows stronger, pirouetting around the vanilla and transforming the caramel into lemon curd topped by a brown sugar crust that is singed and dark.

Lemon curd. Photo: The NUmmy Little Blog at thenummylittleblog.blogspot.com

The vanilla seems to melt more and more into the river of treacly resins. The almost boozy undertone fades after 5 minutes, replaced by the subtle suggestion of something lightly floral. It’s all very rich, dense, and sweet. Yes, it’s even syrupy, but it’s resin syrup — dominated by almost leathery, smoky, darkness – not vanilla syrup. The lemon curd is a lovely accompaniment, and is joined by bergamot to add a touch of fragrant freshness that reminds me of the Earl Grey aroma in another DSH perfume. Soft, sweet, aromatic rosewood lurks about in the distant background as well.

Vanille Botanique is very dense in feel and extremely strong at first, but it’s quite light in weight. For all that the visuals are opaque, the perfume itself is not. Its sillage is soft on my skin, as are all the DSH fragrances. Vanille Botanique wafts 1-2 inches at first, drops at the end of the first hour to hover an inch above the skin, then turns into a skin scent at the start of the 3rd hour.

The perfume starts to turn smokier and darker 30 minutes into its development. There is a leathered subset to the resins in the same way that there is in original, vintage Shalimar, which has one or both of the balsams in question. Vanilla feels less and less of a focal point, though you can see it peeking out from behind the veil. It’s a dry vanilla, like the kind in Mona di Orio‘s Vanille, but without the latter’s heavy butteriness. After an hour, the lemon curd fades away, Vanille Botanique turns softer, and a touch of tonka appears, reflecting its cinnamon and slightly powdered facets. It’s a mere blip on my skin, however, and doesn’t last long. The jasmine never appears at all.

Source: darkroom.baltimoresun.com

Vanille Botanique shifts slightly at the start of the 4th hour. The perfume turns drier, and even darker. There is a definite leathery undertone to Vanille Botanique now, but it also has a dirty quality that I don’t particularly enjoy. One reason is the civet which becomes quite noticeable at this point. The other is the undertone to the tolu balsam that I alluded to earlier in my discussion of Bodhi Sativa. The two together combine into an aroma that feels almost like raw tobacco juice, infused with civet and with that dirty, musky tolu. It’s far from my personal cup of tea, which is unfortunate as that dark, earthy, brown dirtiness becomes a fundamental aspect of the dominant balsams on my skin. Custardy vanilla? No longer. No real vanilla of any kind on my skin, actually.

Source: dianafabrics.com

Vanille Botanique soon turns into a blur of dark sweetness dominated by the tolu balsam’s leathered, musky, rather dirty facets. At the start of the 6th hour, the perfume feels like it’s almost all gone from my skin except for a pungent, resinous, half-sweetened smokiness, but Vanille Botanique clings on tenacious. For hours. And hours. Finally, 12.5 hours from the start, the fragrance dies away, smelling resinous to the very end.

My experience is quite different than that discussed in The Perfume Magazine‘s feature on Vanille Botanique. The very detailed review reads, in part:

Although there is citrus in the top notes, Vanille Botanique is introduced as a basalmic vanilla fragrance from the get-go. Red mandarin is the most apparent of the citrus essences, but not in a zesty or sparkling manner. Rather, it lends a light dimension to Vanille Botanique, alluding to the fact that this fragrance never becomes weighty or thick. Having said that, Vanille Botanique is most substantial in the opening which is redolent of an aged rum that has been distilled in wooden casks.

Vanilla courses through the boozy liquid but like Casmir and Spiritueuse Double Vanille it’s seamlessly blended so while there are caramel tones and hints of brown sugar, it is absent of a foody quality or saccharine sweetness. A peppery, nutmeg-like spiciness also helps temper the vanilla and move forward with the buoyant theme.

While it’s important to state what Vanille Botanique is, it might be even more important to mention what it is not. There’s no smoke, or incense, and yes there are woods and resins in the notes, but it is not a woody fragrance per se. By contrast, it is evocative of balsams that have infused the perfume as a whole[.]

Dark, sticky vanilla inside the pod. Photo: Vanillareview.com

The lovely Victoria at EauMG loves Vanille Botanique, calling it one of the most indulgent, decadent fragrances she’s experienced in the genre. Her review read, in part:

DSH Perfumes Vanille Botanique is the most decadent vanilla themed perfume that has ever touched my skin. It’s so rich and luxurious that I almost feel guilty wearing it because it’s one of the most self-indulgent, lavish perfumes ever created. And that’s why I love it.

Vanille Botanique smells so good the opening is a rich vanilla complimented by old-fashioned mosses and a hint of retro florals. But, trust me, this is all about the vanilla. The vanilla in this is sweet, balsamic, rich and palatial. There is a faint hint of citrus. The citrus isn’t fresh or glimmering. It’s more like an essential oil smothered by the balsamic richness of the vanilla bean. There is more to this fragrance than just vanilla, I can pick up on that. BUT I mainly get a rich, balsamic vanilla that is thick like syrup but not overly sweet. Actually, it reminds me of tolu balsam. So there is a hint of “amber” and benzoin in this balsamic glazed tobacco-like vanilla. It’s a linear scent like Guerlain Tonka Impériale. I don’t care if it’s linear because I smell good for 15+ hours wearing this lavish perfume. […][¶]

Give Vanille Botanique a try if you like rich, dense vanilla fragrances that do not smell like baked goods or synthetic. Give it a try if you like rich gourmands like Tom Ford Tobacco Vanille, L’Artisan Parfumeur Vanille Absolument, Guerlain Spiritueuse Double Vanille and/or other gourmands by DSH Perfumes. This scent is a unisex vanilla like the ones I listed above. This is not a “light” vanilla, it’s super dense so keep that in mind. This isn’t sheer; it’s syrupy. [Emphasis to names added by me.]

Source: sharefaith.com

On Fragrantica, there are two reviews. The first talks about the labdanum aspect of Vanille Botanique, as well as the civet. Like Victoria at EauMG, “Sherapop” also finds a stylistic resemblance to L’Artisan‘s Vanille Absoluement, writing, in part:

DSH Vanille Botanique is a vanilla perfume for grown-ups. No sugar festival here whatsoever. Instead the scent is rather woody and oriental and barely sweet at all.

The labdanum is quite marked and there is some darkness imparted it appears by … civet! Well, this does not smell very animalic to me (maybe just a touch…), but it does smell very well blended and unisex. I find this just as well-blended as my favorite vanilla perfume, L’Artisan Parfumeur Vanille Absolument. This creation by DSH is akin to its savory analogue. [¶] Everything works together harmoniously in this composition, which I find to be a gorgeous wintertime perfume. [Emphasis to name added by me.]

The second review, however, is significant because it comes from someone who didn’t think the perfume lived up to the “vanilla” in its name and was a little disappointed:

The name…well a bit misleading. I would put vanilla way down towards the bottom of the list. This is all about the benzoin, labdanum & honey & a really unusual scent to me (maybe the civet). Oh, and I smell the rosewood, which I like. This is warm and honeyed but I’m not really sensing any florals. This is a very interesting perfume and I like that it is a bit different but unfortunately not what I was looking for.

I think her comment is extremely important because it highlights that Vanille Botanique is far from the conventional sort of vanilla fragrance. I disagree with a lot of the talk of vanilla in the other reviews because I think very dark balsams are the focal point of the scent. Ms. Hurwitz said as much to CaFleureBon, writing “I just love a good balsamic vanilla that is not really sweet but very, very rich and smooth.” I would add “very dark,” “musky,” and “smoky” to that list of adjectives as well.

In short, if you’re expecting a traditional, hyper-sweet, vanilla-centric scent, Vanille Botanique may disappoint you. This is not like some Victoria Secret or Mugler-style vanilla. It is a very dark, resinous interpretation of the genre that may be best suited to those who love amber and Tolu balsam in all its facets, including dark leatheriness and a treacly smokiness. Ideally, you should also enjoy a touch of muskiness as well. If drier vanillas on a deep, ambered base are your cup of tea, give Vanille Botanique a sniff.

Disclosure: Perfume samples were courtesy of DSH Perfumes. That did not impact this review, I do not do paid reviews, and my opinions are my own.

DETAILS:

Cost & Availability: Bodhi Sativa and Vanille Botanique are offered in a variety of different concentrations and sizes. I tested the Eau de Parfum version of both. The two fragrances are available on the DSH Perfumes’ website. Bodhi Sativa is offered in: a 1 dram or 3.7 ml miniature-sized flask of Eau de Cologne for $18; a 10 ml EDC for $33; and a 1 oz/30 ml water-based concentrated spray for $58. The Pure Parfum Extrait version in an 5 ml antique bottle costs $105. Samples of the EDP are available at $5 for a 1/2 ml vial. Accompanying body lotions and creams are available as well. For Vanille Botanique, the pricing is as follows: 1 dram or 3.7 ml mini of EDP for $27; a 10 ml decant of EDP for $58.50; and a 1 oz bottle of water-based concentrated spray for $58. There are a ton of matching organic body creams, gels and massage lotions. In general, all orders over $10 will receive free samples of fragrances, with the number depending on the amount of your order. If you are outside the U.S., international shipping is available if you contact DSH Fragrances. As a side note, Vanille Botanique is also offered on Indiescents in the 30 ml EDP size for $135. Samples: in addition to the samples available on DSH perfumes, Surrender to Chance offers Bodhi Sativa starting at $3.99 for a 1/2 ml vial of EDP. Vanille Botanique is not available.

DSH Perfumes Cafe Noir & Parfum de Luxe

Posted on March 25, 2014 by Kafkaesque

Source: en.visitparisregion.com

Expresso, licorice, amber, cinnamon, leathered tobacco, and smoky resins lie at the respective hearts of two sibling fragrances from DSH Perfumes. Cafe Noir was inspired by the jazz cafés of Paris at night, while the thought behind Parfum de Luxe stems out of the Art Deco movement of the 1920s and the French Riviera. One fragrance begins as a golden, buttered gourmand before shedding its skin to turn resinous, dark, and chewy. The other has dark expresso and licorice on my skin, with a surprising touch of decayed florals lurking at its edges that is replaced by leathery tobacco. Both, however, have their darkness end on a soft finish of vanilla.

CAFE NOIR:

Cafe Noir Pure Parfum in the antique bottle. Source: DSH Perfumes website

Cafe Noir is meant to evoke Paris jazz cafés at night. It is a 96% botanical eau de parfum that the DSH website describes as follows:

Cafe Noir is an oriental fragrance that harmonizes spice, floral, resin and wood notes with the beloved aroma of black coffee.

It is a Paris night. Dark and sophisticated, it evokes late concerts in smoke filled rooms…sipping coffee and listening to jazz. Captivating and sensual, Cafe Noir fuses classical sensibilities with the flair of the artist.

The notes, as compiled from Fragrantica and the tags on DSH Perfume, are:

Top notes: bergamot, black pepper, cinnamon bark, and pimento berry;
Middle notes: Siam Benzoin, Bulgarian rose otto, grandiflora jasmine, and labdanum.
Base notes: coffee absolute, tolu balsam, and vanilla.

Source: mainstreamsochi.blogspot.com

Cafe Noir opens on my skin with a delicious explosion of goldenness that is the furthest thing in feel from any dark, sultry café. Actually, it evokes Cinnabons, more than the world of Ella Fitzgerald in smoke-filled rooms at midnight. The opening bouquet is of boozy cinnamon with rich Bourbon vanilla, a touch of fiery chili, and the tiniest whisper of coffee. Cafe Noir is, first and foremost in these opening minutes, centered on a very powerful, buttered cinnamon note that really evokes a pastry dusted with spice, heavily buttered, and with a warm, fresh-baked bread aroma.

It’s a visual of gold and red in a scent that feels very comforting. Yet, for all its gourmand tendencies, nothing about Cafe Noir is sweet or cloying on my skin. The expected note is extremely muted, feeling more like a suggestion of coffee on the side. Oddly enough, there is a distinct Earl Grey tea impression that seems much more profound. The unexpected tonality undoubtedly stems from the very aromatic bergamot. I love the overall warmth and sweetness of Cafe Noir, the feeling of tea time centered around cinnamon buns.

Source: Dailymail.com

The boozy cognac fades away within minutes, and its place is taken by other elements. There is a waxy, honeyed note from the labdanum. Vanilla swirls around now as well, but the central focus of Cafe Noir after 10 minutes continues to be the blend of hot, buttered cinnamon rolls with Earl Grey tea. The whole thing gently wafts 1-2 inches above my skin in a deep, concentrated cloud that initially feels very airy.

The coffee soon vanishes entirely, and its place is taken by the occasional suggestion of abstract florals. Sometimes, I think I can smell ripe jasmine; once, I thought I detected rose; another time, there was also a fruity nuance that popped up. Yet, all of it is hard to pinpoint and lurks in the far corners of the background. For the most part, there is merely a sense of something vaguely “floral” that lurks about, but it is too nebulous and too well-blended into the other notes to be a significant part of the fragrance. The same story applies to the pimento chili pepper which appears once in a blue moon in a visible manner, but is generally subsumed into the overall bouquet.

Much more noticeable are the growing presence of dark accords. There is honey that feels syrupy and, often, quite burnt. There are also the labdanum and balsamic resins. The tolu in particular feels smoky, chewy, and almost masculine. By the end of the first hour, the three notes combine to wipe out the golden, gourmand, cinnamon haze of Cafe Noir, blanketing it with darkness that is a little bit smoked and singed. The sticky, burnt honey comes fully to the foreground, followed by the labdanum. It continues to emit the tiniest touch of honeyed beeswax, but its primary aroma is of a very dark, slightly masculine, tough amber. It feels dusted by pepper and a suggestion of pimento. Following the labdanum is the smoky tolu as the third main player on Cafe Noir’s stage.

Photo: naldzgraphics.net

Cafe Noir’s second phase is fundamentally different than its opening. Cinnamon continues to blanket everything, but this is a dry note now that feels almost woody at times. All suggestions of hot, flaky, buttered pastries have disappeared, while the Earl Grey tea is a mere blip on the horizon. At the end of the 2nd hour, Cafe Noir is a very dark, resinous amber with almost a smoky nuance. It is dusted by spices, then lightly flecked by vanilla and by the tiniest, muted touch of jammy roses. It is a skin scent by this point, but deep, concentrated, and very strong when sniffed up close.

Photo: sitnica.

Cafe Noir doesn’t change much for the rest of its life. The core of darkness merely reflects different secondary notes on the periphery, like occasional lingering touches of beeswax, spiciness, vanilla, or cinnamon. For the most part, it simply turns into a blur of smoky, resinoid darkness with an undertone that almost verges on tobacco’d leather at times. Cafe Noir continues to have a very concentrated, dense feel up close, but it’s also an increasingly sheer in weight. With every passing hour, the tolu balsam takes over more and more on my skin, adding to that leathery impression in the haze of smoky darkness. I’m really surprised by the complete 180 turn from Cafe Noir’s opening stage.

In its final moments, Cafe Noir is merely a wisp of something resinous and dark, with the tiniest suggestion of sweet, almost tonka-like vanilla mixed in. All in all, the scent lasted over 8.5 hours on my skin. The sillage was soft but generally decent for the first few hours, helped by the very dense, chewy feel to the notes. Even when Cafe Noir turned into a skin scent, it still was easy to detect up close until the start of the 6th hour.

Source: Pinterest and lattelisa.blogspot.com

The lovely Victoria at EauMG had a very different experience with Cafe Noir, but she loves it, calling it a “beatnik” chypre that conveys exactly the jazz café atmosphere that it intended. Her review reads, in part, as follows:

Cafe Noir is a moody, rich fragrance. I love it. I call it “beatnik in a bottle”. It’s smart and sophisticated and a bit counter-culture (if a perfume can be described as such). It reminds me of a classic French perfume created for the kind of gal that spends late nights/early mornings reading Lawrence Ferlinghetti by the fireplace, sipping on midnight black coffee. […][¶] This scent reminds me of “beat” poetry.

My first impression of this fragrance creates a bit of confusion in my mind. I know that I like it but I find it very odd. It hits as if it is a spicy, mossy, dirty, chypre. It smells a bit wild and untamed and actually hot. It reminds me of all of those classic Guerlains like Mitsouko but Cafe Noir is much dirtier and grittier and with a kick of spice. It reminds me of moss and Atomic Fire Balls. You just know like beat poetry, that this is a fragrance with so much to say. Once my mind finally gets that this is a dirty, spicy chypre, I get an unexpected “shot” of bitter coffee beans. To add to even more complexity, I get lovely “classic” perfumey. I get rich, thick Parisian florals of rose and jasmine. But, it isn’t classic because of the bitter coffee. The dry down is moody and fairly simple. It has smoky incense like copal rich sweetness with grounding notes of vanilla, labdanum, and balsam. It is like being in a room where incense was once burning. It is slightly smoky but mostly you get the sweetness of the smoke floating through the air. I can not imagine my perfume collection without Cafe Noir in it. This one is very special.

Photo by Satr via This Blog Really Stinks.

For This Blog Really Stinks, Cafe Noir was a romantic, sexy, cozy fragrance that was also about more than mere coffee:

Sure, there’s a beautiful coffee note present, but that’s not all! Let’s talk about the coffee, though, for a minute. Where New Haarlem (Bond No.9) was a bracing double-shot in a styrofoam cup, Cafe Noir is richer, softer coffee in a cup and saucer. The barista sprinkled some cinnamon in it, a spicy-sweet twist. […][¶]

Once the nose acclimates to the steaming coffee and delicate spice, it’s free to venture further. With the cinnamon coffee always present, a sexy floral blend wafts in. Jasmine and rose dance softly but distinctly, reminding me a bit of twin snakes of smoke and steam spiraling upwards from lit cigarettes and hot mugs.

Labdanum, a note I’m learning more about (and love), is probably what’s responsible for the somewhat creamy, ambery facet to this perfume. It’s the slightest bit like warm skin kissed by smoke.

Source: tomsguide.com

On Fragrantica, however, a number of the commentators found Cafe Noir to be all about the cinnamon. One person detected no coffee at all, and hardly anyone talks about floral notes. Some of the range of opinions:

Straight up, I get an unexpected blast of alcohol, specifically brandy, followed by the strong cinnamon that puts me immediately into a Christmas state of mind. Soon this settles and then the other notes mingle to create a comfort, feel-good scent. I don’t get strong coffee here, but it IS gourmand. It is more coffee bun dusted with cinnamon[….] In a way, this is also reminiscent of a BPAL in that the scent is so evocative and strong, you could be in the moment in that coffee shop…. with that bun.

Source: davidwarkentin.blogspot.com

Well the way I would rate the notes would be: 1. Cinnamon 2. Pepper/Pimento 3. Benzoin 4. Coffee 5. Vanilla 6. Tolu [¶] This to me is all about a nice hot latte with a heavy sprinkling of cinnamon on top of the foam while you sit quietly eating a warm cinnamon bun. This is gorgeous, warm and creamy but really for me the cinnamon is what takes center stage. A beautiful addition for fall and winter. This is just the perfect amount of spice without becoming a total spice bomb. I agree with the others, I don’t smell the flowers but I am sure they are helping the spices to stay grounded and not get too carried away!!! [¶] For a real caffeine kick I will stick with Ava Luxe’s Cafe Noir.

As a rule I have liked all the DSH perfumes I have sampled, however this one is very disappointing. I don’t smell any coffee at all, just cinnamon and amber. It’s also extremely sweet, almost sickeningly so. In its favour it lasts a few hours on my skin.

Cafe Noir is exactly that–a deeply aromatic, rich elixir that gives you a caffeine kick merely by absorbing it through your skin. [¶] The opening is piquant and dark and takes some time to diffuse, which is no surprise considering the viscosity if this natural blend. [¶] The flowers are not overt but deliver a roundness and subtle sweetness in combination with the vanilla. [¶] Labdanum, benzoin and tolu balsam give an exotic, ambery richness and a long lasting layered complexity. [¶] Incredibly indulgent and a well composed perfume which I think is suitable for both men and women. It makes me long for a cup of Turkish coffee with a piece of lokum on the side. I also find this a great natural alternative to Opium.

I find zero resemblance to my beloved Opium, but I do agree that Cafe Noir is a very unisex fragrance that both men and women would enjoy. I think some appreciation for cinnamon is in order, and, ideally, you wouldn’t have great expectations of a very coffee-dominated scent (or a floral one). If you are looking for a very resinous, balsam-heavy amber infused with spices, some smokiness, and varying levels of sweetness, Cafe Noir may be right up your alley.

PARFUM DE LUXE:

Parfum de Luxe in the more expensive Art Deco bottle, I think. Source: DSH Perfumes website

Parfum de Luxe was inspired by the Art Deco movement of the 1920s and ’30s, but it feels very much like Cafe Noir’s sibling. It too is an eau de parfum that is dark, resinous, smoky, and faintly leathered. To my surprise, it, too, manifested a coffee note on my skin. In fact, it was a substantially stronger one than the tiny blip in Cafe Noir, and was centered around bitter expresso.

Parfum de Luxe is a 94.5% botanical fragrance which the DSH website describes as follows:

A vintage style chypre-tabac perfume with subtle surprise praline and leather nuances in the drydown. It is eclectic and yet fabulously suave.

On the Riviera, I was overwhelmed by the charm and grace of my surroundings. The Perfume in the air was magnificent. Inspired by the Art Deco movement of the 1920´s and ´30´s, Parfum de Luxe is rich, pure and confident.

The notes, as compiled from a comment on Fragrantica and the general tags on DSH Perfume, include:

Top: bergamot, clary sage, neroli, petit grain and violet.
Heart: Bulgarian rose absolute, Centifolia rose, Chinese geranium, honey, iris, tuberose and ylang-ylang.
Base: amber, Siam benzoin, brown oakmoss, labdanum, patchouli, sandalwood, tobacco absolute, musk, and vanilla.

Source: free-hdwallpapers.com

Parfum de Luxe opens on my skin with crisp bergamot, herbal clary sage, leathered tobacco, and geranium, all on an earthy, musky base. The latter is infused with patchouli, dusty spices, what smells like cloves, a hint of oakmoss, and the tiniest touch of bitter, woody petitgrain. Then, for reasons that I absolutely cannot explain, something in Parfum de Luxe starts to strongly radiate bitter expresso on my skin, as well as black licorice and anise. I’m guessing that it must be some aspect of the tobacco, perhaps impacted by one of the other notes, but I’ve never had tobacco absolute turn to either expresso or licorice on my skin. Regardless, I’m rather keen on it.

Licorice. Source: Dylanscandybar.com

The licorice grows more prominent with every passing minute, evoking hard, chewy, black Twizzler sticks. The bergamot and oakmoss quickly fade, leaving a scent that is primarily centered on dark accords. After 10 minutes, a whisper of tuberose creeps in, though it too is infused with the expresso, licorice and tobacco. The whole thing is an extremely strong, rich, dense scent that initially hovers an inch above the skin with 3 large smears.

There are very few florals at first, apart from the bitter geranium and that whisper of tuberose. The latter frequently disappears, only to reappear ten minutes later, in a ghostly dance that goes back and forth. Once, I thought there was the faint suggestion of iris, but it too darts away every time I try to pinpoint it.

Source: SnapperOne Blogspot.

Parfum de Luxe slowly starts to shift. There is a honeyed nuance which appears, mixing with the licorice to create the impression of burnt caramel. Then, to my surprise, a very ripe, brown floral element arrives. It smells primarily like a decayed gardenia, similar to that in Serge Lutens‘ Une Voix Noire, and is mixed with the tiniest, most minuscule touch of an over-ripe ylang-ylang. Both flowers are blanketed by the licorice-like accord and the sticky, toffee’d, burnt honey, then lightly flecked by an earthy muskiness. Bitter petitgrain and geranium dart about throughout the top notes, but what fascinates me is the mushroom aroma in the background.

It is something I’ve encountered with gardenia, but never with tuberose, no matter how ripe or indolic. Then again, most “gardenia” notes are derived from the combination of other florals, like tuberose, so perhaps that is the explanation. Either way, the mushroomy earthiness is extremely muted and even more brief, lasting only about 10 minutes before it fades away. However, it leaves in its wake a little bit of funk to Parfum de Luxe’s base, which joins the leathered edge from the “licorice” that I cannot explain. None of it is what I was expecting from the notes, but it all works very well as a licorice-expresso fragrance with a touch of dying gardenia. I like the richness and depth to the scent, as it feels quite hefty despite the airiness of the bouquet.

Photo: stonecontact.com

Parfum de Luxe hovers just above the skin after 25 minutes, smelling primarily of licorice, sticky honey, expresso, and dark resins, followed by a decayed floral, musk, and the tiniest hints of tobacco. Vanilla creeps in from the sidelines 45 minutes into the perfume’s development. The floral elements melt into the background around the same time, letting the dark, resinous, and burnt honey accords dominate center stage. They are joined there by the first suggestion of something vaguely ambered and golden at the end of the first hour. There is a dense stickiness to this dark heart which is really appealing. It’s also very well calibrated and balanced, as it never feels cloying or like a saccharine overload on my skin, thanks to the bitter elements which help to keep the sweetness fully in check.

Parfum de Luxe turns into a skin scent on me shortly after the 90 minute mark, losing some of its resinous density and turning somewhat thinner in feel. However, it is still extremely strong when you sniff your arm up close. Interestingly, the tobacco finally starts to emerge in its own right, though it’s quite muted at first. Parfum de Luxe is now primarily an expresso and licorice scent, infused with burnt, caramelized honey and an occasional ghostly pop of vanilla.

Source: texeretrade.co.uk

The notes slowly start to overlap each other, losing their distinct, individual edge at the end of the 2nd hour. Parfum de Luxe feels like a blur of darkness, dominated primarily by expresso with growing touches of an abstract tobacco. The scent feels almost leathery at times. On occasion, an abstract “floral” tonality pops up in the background, but it is nebulous and hard to pull apart. Sometimes, I think I can detect a subtle strain of a jammy rose, but other times I think I’m just imagining it. The dark, resinous, somewhat bitter mass has only momentary hints of sweetness, but they always fade away. About 3.5 hours into Parfum de Luxe’s development, it becomes even harder to separate the tobacco and expresso from the general sense of a bouquet that is simply dark and balsamic.

Photo: stonehousetiles.co.uk

The one big change in all this is the role of the vanilla. It begins to grow more prominent, especially at the start of the 6th hour, and occasionally takes on a soft, powdered undertone reminiscent of tonka. It helps to soften Parfum de Luxe’s sometimes sharp, bitter edge from the expresso and tobacco, but only to a small extent. In its final moments, Parfum de Luxe is a simple smear of darkness with a hint of vanillic sweetness. All in all, the perfume lasted just over 6.25 hours on me, with generally soft sillage throughout.

I haven’t read of anyone experiencing black licorice or bitter expresso with Parfum de Luxe, but the core essence of a resinous, dark scent has been talked about by a few people. Victoria of EauMG has a lovely review of Parfum de Luxe which reads, in part, as follows:

This fragrance contains many, many notes. They all play off of each other nicely. However, when worn on my skin, I pick up sweetness. I get rich, raw honey. It’s sexiness verges on vulgarity. I love it. Yeah, at the initial wear I get a bit of the balsamy, purifying sage. But, that is blended with rich old-fashioned roses. (DSH uses the finest rose absolutes that I’ve ever sniffed). These roses are hard for me to identify because they are soaked in sticky, raw honey. They smell gourmand, candied, sticky, and sweet. Throughout the wear the honey really sticks on me (no pun intended). I do get buttery, creamy orris mixed with the honey. Sometimes when I wear this, I get the rich white florals but they have been baked into a buttery, honey cake. I must add that the orris and honey combo is lovely. It inspires me to add orris root to my next honey cake. (Perhaps toasted orris root?) I think it would be quite amazing. Anyways, back to this fragrance. The base still has sweetness. The honey doesn’t vanish but it does get quieted down by rich, resins and unisex mosses. This is the stage where I would definitely call Parfum de Luxe a chypre. It’s woodsy and mossy but still sweet with amber, tobacco, and vanilla. I want to call it a gourmand chypre if there is such a thing. Regardless if there is or isn’t such a thing, I know I like it. It’s delicious, rich, sensual.

Like I said, this fragrance wears very sweet on me. It’s all honey, candied/edible flowers, and rich, gummy resins. I find it very sexy and it is one that I love to wear in the fall/winter. Its richness warms me up on cool, damp, classic Western Washington days. [¶][…]

It is long-lasting and it smells expensive. I think this would be a nice replacement for Tom Ford Private Blend’s retired Moss Breches [….][Emphasis to name with bolding added by me.]

Source: posterpal.com

Perfume-Smellin’ Things has a brief comparison of Cafe Noir and Parfum de Luxe, at least in terms of their feel and visuals:

Café Noir is meant to re-create the vibe of a Paris night at a club during the Jazz Age. It has a very vintage feel, with a bit of Habanita’s decadent soul in it, and it is definitely one of those “handle with care” scents that are better suited for a hot date than a job interview. It has Black Pepper, Coffee Absolute, Tolu Balsam and Vanilla Absolute, among other things. Its “sister scent” is Parfum de Luxe and I am pretty sure she is the older sister. Café Noir is the intriguing gamine with the short dark hair, but Parfum de Luxe is a Cool Blonde with lots of money and spends her summers on the Riviera. It is meant to bring to mind the Art Deco movement, and it smells very French indeed[.][Emphasis to names with bolding added by me.]

On Fragrantica, there is only one review for Parfum de Luxe. “Sherapop” writes:

I’ve been celebrating the arrival of cold weather for its most notable virtue: the sudden suitability of labdanum amber-based oriental perfumes!

DSH Parfum de Luxe is a dense and rich blend of a variety of oriental base elements and flowers which ends up smelling somewhat dirty to me. Perhaps the oakmoss and clary sage are somehow producing an animalic effect? I do not believe that ambergris (as opposed to labdanum amber) is present here, but the overall effect is slightly naughty smelling.

Whatever the source of the dirtiness of this scent may be, Parfum de Luxe is clearly brothel-ready and probably a good choice also for those who find straight-up labdanum amber perfumes too boring. I would place this composition in the neighborhood of such creations as Cartier Le Baiser du Dragon and Must. A very heavy scent. [Emphasis to names with bolding added by me.]

The particulars of my experience may differ substantially from those of other people, but I think all of these other reviews fully capture the feel and mood of Parfum de Luxe. Even the talk of dirtiness makes sense, though I don’t think Parfum de Luxe is skanky, and it definitely isn’t ripe like a brothel scent. The one area where I sharply disagree is with Perfume-Smelling’ Things’ comparison to a blonde, for Parfum de Luxe feels quite as dark as its Cafe sister. Actually, substantially darker, since it lacks Cafe Noir’s golden, gourmand beginning.

“Fire Storm” by Marina Petro. Source: marinapetro.blogspot.com

I think both scents are strongly unisex and could be worn by anyone who appreciates dense, resinous Orientals with amber and various levels of sweetness. Both Cafe Noir and Parfum de Luxe have substantial heft, and a heart of darkness. One is more smoky after a gourmand start that focuses on cinnamon, while the other is more bitter with expresso, licorice and burnt honey, but both turn into a very resinous, dark, ambered scent with a slightly leathered or tobacco’d nuance. That said, the differences between the two are significant enough to warrant trying both, if you’re interested, especially given how other people experienced significantly more floral or chypre accents from one fragrance to the next. In both cases, however, Cafe Noir and Parfum de Luxe are very well-done, interesting, and rather sexy with moderate to good longevity that could probably be increased further by generous spraying. So, if you’re tempted, give them a sniff!

Disclosure: Perfume samples were courtesy of DSH Perfumes. That did not impact this review, I do not do paid reviews, and my opinions are my own.

DETAILS:

Cost & Availability: Cafe Noir and Parfum de Luxe are both Eau de Parfums that are offered in a variety of different sizes, as well as in a pure parfum concentration. All versions are sold on DSH Perfumes’ website. Cafe Noir is offered in: a 1 dram miniature size flask of EDP for $27; a 10 ml EDP for $63; and a 1 oz EDP for $135. The Pure Parfum Extrait version in an 10 ml antique Art Deco bottle costs $125. Samples are available at $5 for a 1/2 ml vial of EDP. Additional Parfum Extrait options are available as well. For Parfum de Luxe, the pricing is as follows: 1 dram mini of EDP for $27; a 10 ml decant of EDP for $63; and a 1 oz bottle of EDP for $135. The Pure Parfum Extrait starts at $125 for a 5 ml antique bottle, and goes up in price from there. In general, all orders over $10 will receive free samples of fragrances, with the number depending on the amount of your order. If you are outside the U.S., international shipping is available if you contact DSH Fragrances. As a side note, Cafe Noir is also offered on Indiescents in the 30 ml EDP size for $135. Samples: in addition to the samples available on DSH perfumes, Surrender to Chance offers Cafe Noir starting at $3.99 for a 1/2 ml vial of EDP. Parfum de Luxe is available for the same price.

DSH Perfumes Nourouz and Ruba’iyat

Posted on March 24, 2014 by Kafkaesque

Last week was Persian New Year, so I thought it was an apt time in my series on DSH Perfumes to cover the brand’s two Persian-inspired fragrances. The first one is Nourouz, which means “New Year” and which is specifically intended to celebrate the March holiday. The second is Ruba’iyat which Dawn Spencer Hurwitz says was inspired “by the Persian poetry form of the same name, and traditional oudh designs of the region.”

NOUROUZ:

1 dram mini bottle of DSH perfume. Source: DSH Perfumes website.

Nourouz is a natural eau de parfum that also sometimes goes by the name Tamarind/Paprika. The DSH website provides the following description:

A rich, round, smoky-incense nuanced perfume within a classic fruity-chypre design style.

Nourouz, the name for the New Year celebration traditional in Persia, is as exotic as it’s name. Based on luscious tamarind and sensual paprika, this is a perfume that smolders and sizzles.

The notes, as compiled from Fragrantica and the tags on DSH Perfume, are:

Top notes: Black Pomegranate (accord), Paprika, Tamarind
Middle notes: Bulgarian Rose Otto, Orris, Osmanthus, East Indian Patchouli.
Base notes: Oppopanax, Red Wine notes, Tobacco Absolute, Vanilla Absolute.

Source: banoosh.com

Nourouz opened on my skin with pomegranate and tart, tangy, tamarind molasses, all dusted with dry, somewhat dusty paprika. A lovely, dark, wine accord runs through it, smelling almost like a cherry cordial, but without the latter’s extreme sweetness. A glimmer of vanilla darts in between the various tangy notes which are really lovely in their originality.

Nourouz’s opening recreates the sense of original ingredients very well. When I was in India, I loved to eat packaged tamarind that was partially a type of solid molasses that was stuck together with lumps of the whole pods, all infused with salt. And I love pomegranate juice in general, so it is a lovely surprise to see how well that aroma is captured here. I’m less enthused by the fact that Nourouz opens as a really intimate scent that hovers just barely above the skin, regardless of how much I apply.

Source: impfl.com

Nourouz shifts quite quickly on my skin. A delicate, very pale, pink rose creeps onto the scene after 10 minutes. The perfume also turns into a complete skin scent at this point which makes it harder to detect its nuances. For the most part, Nourouz’s opening bouquet smells primarily of very tart, tangy, dark fruits with a cherry-tamarind aroma, lightly flecked by a pale rose and a drop of vanilla. Then, five minutes later, the osmanthus arrives, smelling of apricots with the faintest undercurrent of black tea and leather. At first, it is a mere flicker but the osmanthus soon grows increasingly prominent, overshadowing the tamarind, wine, and even pomegranate accords.

Osmanthus. Source: en.wikipedia.org

What was interesting to me was what happened when I applied a double dose of Nourouz. Then, the fragrance opened with the osmanthus, followed by hints of tobacco absolute and smokiness. The latter both faded away quickly, replaced by the pomegranate and tamarind notes. The wine was very muted, as was the paprika on my skin, and there was virtually no rose at all. Instead, there was the tiniest hint of something powdery, presumably from the iris/orris accord. Yet, even with the higher quantity, Nourouz still turned into a skin scent after 10 minutes. It was simply much more concentrated when smelled up close.

Regardless of quantity or test, Nourouz soon ends up in the same place on my skin: an osmanthus-dominated fragrance with tea, followed by dark fruits and the occasional whisper of smokiness. After 45 minutes, it is a wisp of osmanthus and tea with vaguely fruited nuances and a touch of abstract dryness. There is the occasional suggestion of something lightly soapy that appears deep in the base, but it is muted. Nourouz fades away shortly thereafter as a blur of abstract fruity florals. The perfume lasted 1.5 hours with the amount I usually apply in perfume testing (2 large smears or the equivalent of 1 spray of perfume), and 2 hours with double that quantity.

On Fragrantica, there are 4 reviews for Nourouz, two of which are quite positive. One person, “Sherapop,” writes:

This perfume goes through three very distinct stages on my skin and for my nose. It opens like Christmastime with lots of spices and the feeling of a fir tree or maybe potpourri? Either way, it’s very festive feeling. Then the scent suddenly smells for a brief period like a rubbery leather. I have no idea what could account for it, but that’s what I smell (and I’ve worn it a couple of different times).

By the drydown, DSH Nourouz has become a beautiful rich oriental with a touch of sweetness and something indescribable which might be the tamarind? What a ride! Very interesting.

Tamarind paste. Source: foodsubs.com

Another commentator thought that Nourouz was “most delicious with sweet, dark seduction”:

Initially tamarind is present with a little tartness to complement the dark pomegranate perfectly. Paprika isn’t too spicy but rather delivers an earthy depth.

I love osmanthus as its warm, apricot-like floral scent is perfectly paired with the soft, smoky tobacco. Rose and orris further soften the composition creating a feminine allure.

Opoponax is one of my favorite notes and combines well with vanilla and red wine accord to tantalize the senses without being overwhelming.

Nourouz has made it to one of my most favorite DSH fragrances. Well blended and elegantly delicious all the way.

The other two posters were not as excited. One commentator, “Doc Elly” (or Dr. Ellen Covey of Olympic Orchard perfumes) specifically mentioned Nourouz’s longevity which was only an hour on her skin:

This one is a little disappointing, not because of the scent itself, but because it seems weak. It’s basically a subtle rose-violet scent with a few unidentifiable notes modifying it. After testing it and finding that it faded in an hour, I looked up the description on the DSH website, where it lists the base notes as things like opoponax and red wine. These seem more like top or mid notes rather than base notes, so it’s not too surprising that there’s no longevity. The scent is nice, but a little too delicate and fleeting for my taste. I’ll pass on this one.

I’m afraid the sillage and longevity are an issue for me as well.

RUBA’IYAT:

DSH Perfume in the 5 ml antique bottle. Source: DSH website.

Ruba’iyat is a natural, 100% botanical eau de parfum that is based “on a traditional, middle eastern style Oudh oriental scent.” The DSH website adds the following:

Inspired by the Persian poetry form of the same name, and traditional oudh designs of the region. Created for indiescents.com, Ruba’iyat is a glorious all botanical middle eastern oudh, incense, saffron, and spice perfume.

The notes, as compiled from a comment on Fragrantica and the general tags on DSH Perfume, include:

Galbanum, Spicy notes, Davana, Gallic Rose Otto, Rosa centifolia, Saffron, Myrtle, Geranium, Indian Sandalwood, Oud, Frankincense CO2 absolute, Myrrh, Patchouli, Labdanum, Cumin, and Ambrette CO2.

Source: hdwallpapers.lt

Ruba’iyat opens on my skin with a potent blast of galbanum that is sharp, green-black in visual hue, and verging on the leathered. It is imbued by an equally sharp tobacco note, and a very skanky element that is almost civet-like, in addition to being a little sweaty. It clearly seems to stem from the combination of ambrette and cumin.

Davana. Source: hermitageoils.com/davana-essential-oil

Seconds later, the davana arrives on the scene, smelling intensely of apricot fruitiness. In its trail are rose, more cumin, smoky incense, and a dark note that feels like very dark, rather tobacco-like leatheriness. I suspect the latter stems from the oud mentioned in Ruba’iyat’s description, but I really don’t smell agarwood in the way that I’m used to. Instead, it comes across primarily as a sort of leathered tobacco on my skin.

The overall effect is interesting with a profile that is incredibly pungent, sharp, leathered, green-black, fruity, smoky, and animalic, all at once. There is an intense, dirty, sweaty undertone that clashes with the fierce galbanum and the intense fruitiness of the davana. Rose swirls all around, feeling sticky and jammy, while incense seeps out from every corner. Despite the latter, I keep thinking of how Ruba’iyat’s very dominant galbanum element evokes memories of Robert Piguet‘s Bandit, only in a very fruited, apricot embrace that is dusted with cumin and skank. In the background, there are flickers of fuzzy, peppered, piquant geranium leaves that feel a little bitter and that add to the green-black visuals.

Less than 10 minutes Ruba’iyat’s development, the perfume starts to shift. The saffron rises up from the base, smelling sweet, lightly fiery, and with a bite that is almost like chili pepper at first. It wraps itself around the rose and davana in a way that is really pretty, especially once the galbanum mellows out. As its pungent bite fades, only the strong veil of “leather” (oud?) remains. It is skanky, smoky, and covered with treacly, resinous labdanum. Spices lurk at the edges, particularly a clove-like note. There is also the faintest suggestion of a wine or cordial-like undertone, as if the rose and patchouli had combined with the dark leather and spices to create a deep, Italian Amarone wine impression.

Source: wallpho.com

Ruba’iyat seems to mix masculine and feminine traits in a very clever way. I have competing visuals of, on the one hand, blood-red liqueur that borders on the black with tobacco, pungency, skank and sharp smoke, but, on the other, feminine, juicy apricot florals nestled amidst geranium green leaves and sprinkled with gold-red saffron. The cumin retreats to the background after 15 minutes, but the ambrette continues its animalic skank in a way that is reminiscent of the sharp opening of Serge Lutens‘ Muscs Koublai Khan. I don’t mind it but some other parts of Ruba’iyat are a little too pungent and sharp for me.

Apricot slices. Photo: Steve Albert at harvesttotable.com

At the end of the first hour, Ruba’iyat is a pretty, fruity floriental centered around juicy apricot, leather and tobacco, followed by sharp incense, warm amber, patchouli, rose and animalic musk. The pulpy apricot is potent, concentrated, and deep, but it also starts to take on a peach undertone as well. The whole thing wafts a mere inch, at best, above the skin.

Gallic Rose Otto via trade.indiamart.com

Ruba’iyat remains largely unchanged for the next few hours, with the main difference being the order and prominence of some of its notes. The rose becomes more significant after 90 minutes and starts to resemble the rose-water syrup used in a number of Middle Eastern pastries. It even retains the same sort of light saffron dusting. At the end of the 3rd hour, Ruba’iyat is a jammy apricot rose with “tobacco,” sharp incense, musk, a dash of saffron, and a very leathery, dark undertone. Eventually, the perfume turns into a simple fruited floral with darkness and a musky, earthy tobacco note. Sometimes, the rose is more individually distinguishable, but usually it is the apricot-peach impression. In its final moments, Ruba’iyat is a blur of fruitiness with dark earthiness.

I gave Ruba’iyat two full tests, using different quantities. When I used 2 large smears or the equivalent of 1 spray from a bottle, Ruba’iyat lasted just under 6 hours. With a double dose, however, Ruba’iyat lasted 8.5 hours. In all cases, the perfume was very concentrated and strong in feel, but the sillage hovered just above the skin at first. Ruba’iyat only turned into a skin scent with the higher dose at the end of 2 hours, but it was very easy to detect up close for hours on end.

Saffron. Source: Photos.com

There are two reviews for Ruba’iyat on Fragrantica. The first one is from a chap who adores the scent, despite being less than enthused about cumin (or oud):

Oh my. Cupid has finally found a DSH arrow with my name on it and I am overcome with love. This has one of my least favorite notes (cumin) and my observation has been that there’s an oudh meme with most niche perfumers right now whether it makes sense or not(oudh and spaghetti! Yes!) so I had few expectations. Instead I find a lush rich bazaar of notes that are warm, spicy and beautifully layered. This may be the best saffron scent I’ve experienced to date. Spices and resins predominate and even after wearing this several times for hours it’s difficult to pick out individual notes but this stuff is wonderful. This perfume has enough personality that I’d strongly recommend a sample before a bottle–your feelings about this will not be lukewarm.

Sillage: reasonable, 1-2 ft
Longevity: several hours
Fabulosity: the 1,001 nights
Value to price ratio: very good
9/10

Ground cumin. Source: savoryspiceshop.com

The second review comes from “Sherapop” and is not as positive, primarily because of the cumin:

DSH Ruba’iyat is a very complex oriental perfume, with a lot of potent players vying for attention. […][¶] What to say about this concoction? I find it rather kaleidoscopic, with wafts of this and that popping up and then fading out as they are bumped off by other equally strong scents. I detect the saffron, cumin, and davana the most. Since cumin and davana are not my favorite notes (to put it mildly), this is not my favorite perfume from DSH.

I imagine that guys who enjoy cumin-centric fragrances might like this composition a lot. Definitely a try-before-you-buy is in order.

I agree with her. This is a scent that you should test, especially if you are undecided on the issue of cumin. For me, personally, my difficulty stemmed not from the cumin, but from the mix of somewhat strange, brown, tobacco-y earthiness infused with sharp pungency and muskiness. The apricot, however, was very nice.

At the end of the day, neither fragrance suits my personal tastes or style, but they are both interesting and feel very original. If you’re a fan of osmanthus or tamarind, you may want to consider Nourouz. By the same token, if apricot is your thing, and you would like to see it paired with animalic skankiness, dark notes, oud, and incense, then you may want to consider Ruba’iyat.

Disclosure: Perfume samples were courtesy of DSH Perfumes. That did not impact this review, I do not do paid reviews, and my opinions are my own.

DETAILS:

Cost & Availability: Nourouz and Ruba’iyat are both Eau de Parfums that are offered in a variety of different sizes, as well as in a pure parfum concentration. All versions are sold exclusively on DSH Perfumes’ website. Nourouz is offered in: a 1 dram miniature size flask of EDP for $18; a 5 ml EDP in an antique bottle for $115; a 1 oz/30 ml EDP size for $140; and an Extrait Pure Parfum version in an antique bottle in a 0.25 oz size for $155. Samples are available at $5 for a 1/2 ml vial of EDP. There is also an accompanying body lotion, and special Holiday Collection Coffret, where 12 different holiday fragrances in the line (including Nourouz) are offered in sample size vials for $48. I don’t know if the size is 1/2 a 1 ml or a full 1 ml. For Ruba’iyat, the pricing is as follows: 1 dram mini of EDP for $28; a 10 ml decant of EDP for $55; a 5 ml antique bottle of Pure Parfum Extrait for $115; and matching body lotions and creams. Samples are $5 for a 1/2 ml vial of EDP. In general, all orders over $10 will receive free samples of fragrances, with the number depending on the price of your order. If you are outside the U.S., international shipping is available if you contact DSH Fragrances.

DSH Perfumes Le Smoking (YSL Retrospective Collection)

Posted on March 23, 2014 by Kafkaesque

Yves St. Laurent. Photo via Pinterest.

One of my greatest icons and heroes in the artistic world was Yves St. Laurent. As a child, long before I knew the extent of all his accomplishments, he was an indirect part of my world through my fashionista mother, and I worshipped him. Thank to her, I spent hours at his Avenue Montaigne boutique, admiring the sleek clothes and the even sleeker women who bought them. I would marvel at the beauty of the African and Ethiopian models he used on the runways (he was the first fashion designer to really break the colour ceiling), and at how they loped with exquisite grace in highly structured clothes that often plunged down to their navels or that were slit up to their hips. There were the famous Helmut Newton photo shoots, the aesthetic focus on Morocco and Africa, the stunning power of Opium perfume, the creation of the safari jacket, and Le Smoking.

Photo: Helmut Newton, 1975. YSL Smoking.

Above all else, and far before Opium became my personal holy grail, it was all about Le Smoking, Yves St. Laurent’s reinvention of the tuxedo jacket for women that oozed sexuality, sleek minimalism, and power. From Catherine Deneuve (Saint Laurent’s longtime muse) to Bianca Jagger, Jerry Hall, and many others, all the most iconic, famous women of the day clamoured for Le Smoking, often wearing it with nothing underneath. Today, when you see fashion mavens like Gwyneth Paltrow, Rihanna and others wearing a sleek tuxedo jacket and little else, it’s a direct nod to Yves Saint Laurent.

Source: DailyMail.com

One reason why Le Smoking became as significant as it did is because the jacket exuded a powerful androgynous attitude, mixed with women asserting their sexuality in more traditionally masculine ways. What Caron‘s Tabac Blond sought to do for perfumery in the early 1920s, the Saint Laurent smoking jacket sought to do for fashion, amped up times a thousand with more overt sexualization. It was a fashion re-engineering of gender in a way that was completely revolutionary after the lingering impact of Dior’s New Look with its focus on hyper-femininity, and the hyper obviousness of the Courreges miniskirt. (As a side note, YSL was actually the head designer at Dior for a few years. He reached that lofty level at the mere age of 21; a mere two years later, he designed the wedding dress for Farah Diba, future Empress, for her marriage to the Shah of Iran. You can read more about his fascinating, complicated life on Wikipedia, if you are interested.)

Source: Denver Art Museum.

Given my feelings about Saint Laurent, I was keenly interested when I heard that there was a perfume that paid tribute to Le Smoking. Nay, a whole collection of fragrances that were created in homage to Yves St. Laurent, from Le Smoking to my beloved Opium itself. It was the YSL Retrospective Collection from DSH Perfumes, an indie, artisanal American line out of Colorado.

Dawn Spencer Hurwitz. Source: The Perfume Magazine.

DSH Perfumes was founded by Dawn Spencer Hurwitz, and all its fragrances are her personal creation. In 2012, she collaborated with the Denver Art Museum which was holding an exhibit on Yves Saint Laurent’s long, storied career “as one of the greatest influencers in the world of fashion, culture and perfume.” Those are not my words, or hyperbole. Those are CaFleureBon‘s words, and they’re accurate because Saint Laurent really was that important. (To learn more about YSL and his “Gender Revolution,” you can watch a PBS video on the Denver Exhibit, or click on a photo gallery from the Denver Museum that is available at the bottom of the linked page.)

To that end, Ms. Hurwitz created 6 fragrances, each of which was an olfactory interpretation of some aspect of Yves Saint Laurent’s life. By a wonderful twist of fate, Ms. Hurwitz contacted me mere days after I was looking (for the umpteenth time) at her website. At the time, I had been too overwhelmed by all the tempting choices to make a selection, so I was grateful when Ms. Hurwitz offered to send me a number of her fragrances to test. I suspect that some of you might feel similarly at a loss to know what to choose, so I’m going to cover a number of her fragrances in a row.

Le Smoking in the 5 ml antique bottle. Source: DSH perfumes

Today’s focus is the very unisex, green chypre-tobacco eau de parfum called Le Smoking. Other planned reviews include her patchouli scent, Bodhi Sativa. And there is obviously no way this Opium fanatic would miss Ms. Hurwitz’s nod to, and reinvention of Opium, with her Euphorisme d’Opium. For the rest, I’m trying to decide between fragrances from her Egyptian collection and her Persian one, as well as her botanical Vanilla and some of the spice scents.

As a side note, I have to say that Ms. Hurwitz is one of the sweetest people I’ve encountered in a while. The overwhelming impression is of gentleness, mixed with a lovely warmth. She is down-to-earth, open, understanding, gracious, and a lady to her very fingertips. None of that will impact my objectivity in reviewing the actual fragrances, but I did want to thank her. She never once blinked at my numerous requests for the specific notes in each fragrance (the full list is not provided on the website), and she seemed to actually appreciate my obsession with details. (That last one alone is rather remarkable.)

Le Smoking. 10 ml mini bottle of EDP. Source: DSH Perfumes website.

Speaking of notes, Ms. Hurwitz says some of the many ingredients in Le Smoking include:

Top: galbanum, bergamot, clary sage, hyacinth, blackberry;
Heart: grandiflorum jasmine, damascena rose absolute, orris co2 extract, carnation, geranium, marijuana accord, honey;
Base: blond tobacco absolute, incense notes, styrax, leather, peru balsam, green oakmoss absolute, ambergris, castoreum.

Source: 10wallpaper.com

Le Smoking opens on my skin with a small blast of bitter greenness from galbanum and oakmoss. Both notes are infused with a lovely, dark, smoky incense, that is followed by a touch of marijuana. Now, I’ve never smoked marijuana, but I have occasionally been around people who do, so I’m somewhat familiar with the general aroma. To my untutored nose, the note in Le Smoking doesn’t smell exactly like smoked pot, because it lacks a certain pungency that I’ve detected (skunks!), but it’s not exactly like the unsmoked grassy version either. It’s a little bit sweet, earthy, green but also brown, and, later on, quite a bit like patchouli mixed with marijuana.

Source: rgbstock.com

Mere seconds later, one of my favorite parts of Le Smoking arrives on scene. It’s tobacco drizzled with honey, intertwined with leather, all nestled in the plush, rich oakmoss. The greenness of Le Smoking softens quite quickly on my skin, leaving a fragrance that is increasingly dark and smoky. It’s flecked with sweetness, and has almost a chewy feel to it at times. On other occasions, the river of dark leather seems more dominant, especially once the styrax arrives. It also adds in a different form of smokiness that works beautifully with the deep oakmoss and that sometimes pungent galbanum that flitters about.

As a whole, Le Smoking doesn’t feel particularly green on my skin. Rather, it feels like a darkly balsamic fragrance centered around honeyed tobacco and incense that merely happens to have some galbanum and to be centered on an oakmoss base. Its darkness sometimes feels like a balsam resin that has been set on fire. On other occasions, however, the sweetness of the honey swirled into the tobacco dominates much more. Lurking in the background is that ganja accord which is sweet, woody, chewy, and green, all at once. It is subtle now, after its initial pop in the opening minutes, but it is increasingly taken on a patchouli like aroma.

Source: colourbox.com

It’s all terribly sexy, but it’s also quite masculine in feel. In fact, Le Smoking evokes so many “masculine” fragrances with their dark elements that I blinked the first time I tried it. I had had the vague impression that the perfume was a chypre for women. But, then, I remembered YSL’s gender-bending goal, and the actual Le Smoking of the past. Feminine as masculine, masculine as feminine, but always boldness and sexiness throughout. Well, mission accomplished, Ms. Hurwitz. And to think that I had initially dreaded this fragrance as some sort of potential galbanum green bomb! Not one bit.

Other elements start to stir. Initially, the bergamot and clary sage were nonexistent on my skin, but they slowly start to raise their heads after ten minutes to add a quiet whisper. The clary safe is more noticeable out of the two, adding a herbal touch that is just faintly like lavender with a touch of soap. It’s all very muted, however, unlike the carnation and geranium which are the next to arrive on scene. They add a peppered, spicy, and piquant edge, but the carnation has a clove-like undertone that works particularly well with the honeyed tobacco, leather, incense, and marijuana accords. Apart from the carnation, the other florals are very hard to detect on my skin, and the blackberry is nonexistent.

After 15 minutes, Le Smoking turns into a lovely bouquet of chewy, dark notes. The sweetness is perfectly balanced, and cuts through the smoky incense to ensure that the scent is never austere, stark, or brooding. The ganja’s earthiness melts beautifully into the clove-y note from the carnation, while the leather is now met by a slight muskiness that betrays the castoreum in the base. Galbanum and oakmoss provide a little green sharpness, while the minuscule flickers of clary sage add a tinge of herbal freshness in the background. Throughout it all, honeyed tobacco continues to radiate a dark sweetness that is intoxicating. Call me suggestive, but one of Yves St. Laurent’s plunging jackets really would be the perfect accompaniment to this scent.

Photo: Terry Richardson. Source: stylesaint.com

I keep thinking about Tabac Blond, Caron’s gender-bending foray into leather and tobacco. It is such an enormously different perfume than Le Smoking, particularly in Tabac Blond’s current version. For one thing, the leather note smells fundamentally different in the Caron scent, as it stems from birch tar. Le Smoking’s leather does not. If anything, it is more of a subtle suggestion that is amplified by the castoreum in the base. Tabac Blond’s tobacco also smells extremely different than the version here, and is just a minor touch. In fact, Tabac Blond’s dominant focus on my skin seems to be the feminine traits of lipstick powder and florals, traits that only tangentially happen to have a masculine undertone on occasion. (The reformulated, modern Extrait is really a disappointment.)

With Le Smoking, the focus is almost entirely masculine, and all florals are subsumed so deep that they’re impossible to pull out. The carnation is the only one, and even then, it smells primarily of cloves instead of anything floral on my skin. The hyacinth, jasmine, and rose… they barely exist. At most, they are swirled into a very nebulous sense of something vaguely “floral” that lingers in the background in the most muted and muffled form. (And even that only lasts 15 minutes or so.) On me, Le Smoking is a thick layer of darkness dominated by tobacco, incense, sweetness, spice, earthiness and slightly animalic musk. The perfume feels more like something that would come out from Nasomatto (albeit, a non-aromachemical Nasomatto) than Caron, if that makes any sense. Tabac Blond, this is not.

Source: wallpoper.com

The differences become even more stark after 30 minutes, as Le Smoking turns into a very different fragrance than what originally debuted. The patchouli-ganja element becomes more and more dominant, as does the castoreum. The latter is fantastic, feeling simultaneously musky, leathered, velvety, oily, dense, and a bit skanky. The two notes join the honeyed tobacco and the incense as the main players on Le Smoking’s catwalk.

In contrast, the suggestion of leather softens, the galbanum retreats completely to the sidelines, and the brief blip of clary sage dies away entirely. The oakmoss feels as though it has melted into the base where it adds an indirect touch to the top elements. For the next two hours, I thought on a number of occasions that it had actually died away, but the oakmoss waxes and wanes, sometimes popping up to add a wonderful green touch to the increasingly brown-and-black landscape.

The overall effect after 35 minutes is a scent that feels wonderfully dense, earthy, musky, spicy, smoky, and sweet, with light touches of oily skank, upon a plush, mossy base. Le Smoking lies right above the skin at this point with a graceful airiness that belies the concentrated richness of its notes. More and more, the ganja note pirouettes like patchouli in a mix of sweet, smoky earthiness, with spiciness from the “cloves” and a pinch of cinnamon (presumably from the styrax). There is even a vague sense of something chocolate-like lurking deep underneath its chewy facade. I have to say, I love all of it.

Source: wallpaperswa.com

Other changes are afoot around the same time. At the end of the first hour, the tobacco turns darker and more concentrated in feel, while the honey starts to fade away. The leather and oakmoss feel even more like mere undercurrents, but the castoreum blooms. Unfortunately, the fragrance becomes harder to dissect at this point. One of the reasons why is that every element melts seamlessly into the next.

The other reason is the sillage. Ms. Hurwitz told me that her aesthetic preference is for soft, intimate fragrances, as she hates to “taste” perfume. As a result, she avoids creating anything with big projection. The problem is, on my skin, the lack of big sillage has resulted in several fragrances that have virtually NO sillage. I have problems with longevity, not projection, so it was quite a shock when a good number of the DSH line turned into skin scents on me after a mere 20 minutes. A few took even less time. Le Smoking was the best and strongest out of the ones that I’ve tried thus far, but it required me using over 1/3 of a 1 ml vial to experience even decent projection. Tests with a smaller quantity were rather hopeless, I’m afraid.

With the larger amount, Le Smoking initially wafted 1-2 inches in a very concentrated cloud. However, it took less than 12 minutes for the perfume to lie a mere inch above my skin. It dropped at the end of an hour to lie right on the skin, though it was always dense and rich in feel when smelled up close. Le Smoking turned into a skin scent after just 2 hours with the increased dose, but using anything less than 3-4 enormous smears gave me anywhere from 30 minutes to an hour. Le Smoking has decent longevity on my skin if I apply a lot, but the perpetual intimacy of its scent is not my personal cup of tea. In fact, I find it to be a huge problem.

It was even more of a problem for my Yves St. Laurent-adoring, Smoking-wearing, chypre-loving mother who was a natural target for my testing. After a mere 5 minutes with 2 big smears of Le Smoking, she said bluntly, “I can barely smell it.” So, I applied 2 more. It didn’t change things much, and my mother kept frowning at me as she sniffed. In fact, she later said that Le Smoking didn’t last more than 2 hours on her, which is unfortunately similar to some other reports of the perfume’s longevity. One reason for such a brief period of time is that Le Smoking is almost all natural (or possibly, entirely natural, I forget which now). However, having a skin scent sillage doesn’t help in letting people know the perfume might still be clinging on tenaciously.

The bottom line is that Le Smoking’s projection will be a massive problem for anyone who wants to smell their fragrance without having to actually put their nose on their skin and inhale forcefully. The longevity may be another big issue as well. On the other hand, the entire DSH line would be perfect for even the most conservative office environment.

Source: sharefaith.com

Le Smoking is a largely linear fragrance on my skin, and loses a lot of its multi-faceted complexity after a while. As regular readers know, I think there is absolutely nothing wrong with linearity if you enjoy the notes in question. In this case, I love the early bouquet of tobacco, incense, earthy ganja-patchouli, and musky castoreum, with its chewy, honeyed, cloved, leathered, mossy and occasionally skanky inflections. Alas, at the end of the 2nd hour, Le Smoking turns primarily into a tobacco and marijuana fragrance with more abstract, indistinct elements ranging from earthiness, to spices, sweetness, and muskiness. It’s still lovely, but I have to admit, it isn’t as interesting or as enchanting as it was at the start.

An hour later, Le Smoking becomes an increasingly simple scent of earthy, sweet, musky tobacco. It remains that way until the end when Le Smoking dies away as a blur of sweet earthiness. All in all, Le Smoking lasted just under 8 hours on my skin with the massive dose. With more regular amounts, I had about 3-4 hours of duration. Yes, the difference was that dramatic, and my only explanation is that perhaps I simply couldn’t smell any lingering traces of the perfume.

Bianca Jagger in Yves St. Laurent. Source: lifestylemirror.com

I loved Le Smoking’s opening hour, absolutely loved it. It’s sexy as hell, beautifully done, very elegant, and incredibly sophisticated. The remainder was lovely, until the end of the third hour basically, at which point my frustration with the sillage started to impact my feelings about the scent as a whole. That’s not fair, and I know it, but it’s hard when you really like something and can barely detect it. I’m clearly the wrong target demographic for DSH Perfumes, but it doesn’t change how smoldering or sexy Le Smoking can be at first, or how brilliantly it conveys Yves St. Laurent’s whole message behind his jackets.

The reviews for Le Smoking are very positive, though rarely detailed. (As a side note, there are no comments posted on Fragrantica about the scent.) At Bois de Jasmin, guest-writer Suzanna had a tiny paragraph which was mostly about Le Smoking’s notes. The one sentence about the smell of the actual perfume itself was: “The brilliant touch is that this fragrance, which might sound like a heavyweight, dries down to a light, erotic skin scent.” Mark Behnke wrote more for CaFleureBon:

For Le Smoking Ms. Hurwitz embraces the masculine origins of the tuxedo with the herbal quality of clary sage and green galbanum making a provocative start. Geranium carries the green theme into the heart and then a sweet jasmine leads to a honey and cannabis accord that truly smokes. Tobacco signals the transition to the base and this is a sweeter tobacco for arising from the cannabis. It is complemented by incense, balsam, and leather.

Over at Now Smell This, Angela loved Le Smoking, calling it one of her two favorites from the YSL Retrospective Collection

On my skin, Le Smoking is a trip to a spring pasture while wearing a classy formulation of Dana Tabu. Le Smoking is a sweet-dirty medley of tobacco, benzoin, incense and dry leather with a chiffon-like veil of tart green overlaying it for the five minutes the green takes to burn off. All those flowers listed in its making? I’m sure they do something important, but they collapse to a sultry, unisex potion fit for double agents who lounge in private clubs.

Neither of these fragrances lasts much longer than three hours before retreating to skin level, but it’s an enjoyable ride while it lasts.

Dried tobacco leaves. Source: colourbox.com

Le Smoking lasted a similarly brief period of time on Marlen over at The Perfume Critic, but he also loved the scent and thought it a throwback to the men’s classics of the ’70s. His detailed review reads, in part, as follows:

Le Smoking is a stunning, unisex chypre built on leather, tobacco/marijuana and Moroccan incense. […]

You’ll like this if you like: Tobacco, chypres, leather fragrances, Fresh Cannabis Santal.

Pros: So incredibly different from most chypres thanks to Dawn’s light hand with the oakmoss – no grassy, soapy drydown here; absolutely no “natural perfume” vibe.

Cons: I wish the longevity was a bit better. [¶][…]

Reminds me of: Le Smoking is a throwback to men’s fragrances of the mid-80′s – think Tuscany Uomo and Santos de Cartier…or even further back to the classic chypres of the late 60′s and early 70′s such as Rabanne Nuit, Ivoire de Balmain, etc. It’s tone, however, is a bit lighter than all of these. [¶][…]

Le Smoking is seamlessly blended and though it moves from a bright neroli & citrus opening to warm, ambery basenotes, the core of the composition never really shifts – tobacco, marijuana and leather are always at the heart. […][¶] Lasted about 2-3 hrs on my skin; I wish it packed a bit more punch for a longer period of time. […]

Le Smoking was my hands down favorite of Dawn’s collection created for the Denver Art […] [A]s chypres and I never really get along, likely due to the dry and bitter soapiness of the oakmoss (and I also have problems with tobacco scents for the same reason), I was a bit surprised to fall so deeply in love with Dawn’s creation. Despite the complexity of the composition, Le Smoking has a singular character, not unlike the aroma that greets the nose at the opening of a filled humidor. But what really gets me going is the vanillic sweetness at the drydown that lingers and lingers, so unlike many of the scents it reminds me of who become far too dry for my tastes.

Truly, Le Smoking as a natural perfume feels as if it could have come from an equivalent niche house like L’Artisan or Caron.

I agree, Le Smoking doesn’t smell like the typical natural perfume, and would work well on someone who loves tobacco, leather, or cannabis scents. I would add patchouli and smoky fragrances to that list as well, but not necessarily chypres. I think anyone who expects a typical or truly green chypre perfume may be in for a little bit of a surprise.

All in all, I think the Maestro would have thoroughly enjoyed Le Smoking and its dark, sultry character. I know he would have smiled approvingly at how elegantly the perfume crosses gender lines. Le Smoking is absolutely lovely, and I would wear it in a heartbeat if … well, you know.

Disclosure: Perfume sample courtesy of DSH Perfumes. That did not impact this review, I do not do paid reviews, and my opinions are my own.

DETAILS:

Cost & Availability: Le Smoking is an Eau de Parfum that is offered in a variety of different sizes, as well as in a pure parfum concentration. All versions are sold exclusively on DSH Perfumes’ website. Le Smoking is offered in: a 10 ml decant size of EDP for $55; a 5 ml EDP in an antique bottle for $98; a 1 oz/30 ml EDP size for $125; and an Extrait Pure Parfum version in an antique bottle in a 0.5 oz size for $198. Samples are available at $5 for a 1/2 ml vial of EDP. There is also a special YSL Retrospective Collection Coffret, where all 6 fragrances in the line are offered in 5 ml bottles for $98. All orders over $10 will receive free samples of fragrances, with the number depending on the price of your order. If you are outside the U.S., international shipping is available if you contact DSH Fragrances. Samples: a number of DSH fragrances are available on Surrender to Chance under the name of “Dawn Spencer Hurwitz,” but the YSL Retrospective collection is not offered. The Perfumed Court does not have any fragrances from DSH Perfumes. Your best bet is to order directly from the company itself.