Mona di Orio Violette Fumée (Les Nombres d’Or)

Posted on June 1, 2014 by Kafkaesque

Source: Fragrantica

Violette Fumée is a fresh, citric floral musk from Mona di Orio that was posthumously released in 2013 as part of her Nombres d’Or Collection. Madame di Orio was a very talented perfumer who died tragically at the age of 41 in 2011 from post-surgical complications, and Violette Fumée was her last creation. It was originally made as a personal, private gift to her business partner and the company’s co-founder, Jeroen Oude Sogtoen, based on his favorite notes. He decided to release the scent publicly in 2013 as an homage to her.

Source: Luckyscent

Violette Fumée is described as an “eau de parfum intense” on the Mona di Orio website, and also as an “Oriental Balsamic Floral.” The official description for the fragrance is interesting, as it discusses some elements that are not actually included in the accompanying note list:

With the creation of Violette Fumée, Mona composed the melody of my favorite passions, memories and materials.

With flirty florals like violet and rose fumed with pipe tobacco, the exquisite smoothness of cashmere and suede, and deep resinous undertones, this warmly smoldering scent evokes my sensorial love for luxury, and makes me feel, dream, travel and remember.

Revved at the start, crisp, fresh notes of herbal lavender and sparkling bergamot pair with inky oakmoss and get a twist as the scent unfolds into the elegance of vetiver and clary sage.

The shy violet and iconic rose develop into a powdery and gourmand fume and then ramp up as spicy and savory notes of aphrodisiac saffron and smoky bois de gaiac communicate with the florals and begin to ignite.

The smoldering continues as resinous opoponax, myrrh, and musky cashmeran dive slowly into an intense velvety embrace.

Top notes: Mediterranean Lavender, Bergamot from Calabria, Oakmoss from the Balkans
Heart notes: Violet flowers and leaves from Egypt, Turkish Rose, Vetiver from Haiti, Clary Sage
Base notes: Opoponax and Myrrh from Somalia, Cashmeran.

As you can see from the description, saffron, tobacco, and guaiac wood are mentioned, but they do not appear on the actual list of notes. I detected small, minute traces of the last two notes, but not the saffron.

Source: naturesgardencandles.com

Violette Fumée opens on my skin as a very cool citrus, aromatic, and floral bouquet. There is crisp, chilled bergamot and pungent, herbal lavender, followed by dewy, metallic violets, its crunchy green leaves, and tendrils of light, sheer smoke. The violets smell slightly dewy and liquidy, but primarily carry the aroma of its crunchy, fuzzy, peppered leaves. There is a metallic sharpness that violets can sometimes demonstrate, but the note is also accentuated here by clean, synthetic, white musk. Touches of clary sage waft about, emitting a slight soapiness amidst the plant’s lavender and leathery undertones. Vetiver trails behind it, smelling both green and mineralized.

Oakmoss or tree moss.

A few minutes later, another green note arrives on the scene: oakmoss. Like the vetiver, it initially has a mineralized aspect and doesn’t smell plushly green. Yet, it is not completely the grey, fusty, dusty, more pungent version, either. It lies somewhere in-between, supplemented by the bergamot to prevent the mosses from feeling too austere. As a whole, Violette Fumée is a visual palette of green, yellow and purple, with small streaks of black. It is initially a very cool fragrance in temperature as well, thanks largely to the chilliness of the crisp bergamot and the violet’s floral liquidity.

The black smoke that ties the aromatic, citric and floral elements together is very muted on my skin. It is a subtle touch which I wish were far stronger. Interestingly, the first time I wore Violette Fumée, the smokiness was much more apparent than on my two subsequent tests and I have to wonder if temperature was responsible as it was far cooler that first time around. Yet, even so, if I were to quantify the smoke on a scale of 1 to 10 with 10 being the highest, it was a 3 in my first test and perhaps a 1.5 at best on subsequent occasions. In short, rather minor as a whole. Even more minor is the tobacco undertone that I detected in one test, but which never subsequently reappeared.

Violet Leaf via gaertner-und-florist.at

Violette Fumée slowly shifts, though by very fractional degrees. After 10 minutes, the fragrance feels softer and warmer. The bergamot’s zesty briskness turns sweeter, while the lavender and clary sage lose some of their sharp, herbal pungency. The violets grow stronger, their scent feeling more floral now than just the crunchy, piquant green leaves. Their dewiness and metallic edge fade away, though the clean musk remains. In fact, the latter’s synthetic sharpness is consistently intertwined with the bergamot note, resulting in a clean lemoniness that I think has a very harsh edge. It continues largely unabated until the very end of Violette Fumée’s development on my skin, and it is the thing that I like the least about the perfume.

Source: funny-pictures.picphotos.net

Violette Fumée begins to turn abstract and wispy 45 minutes into its development. There are fluctuating levels of greenness, but the smokiness has faded away, along with the lavender and clary sage. The oakmoss feels almost nebulous, more like an abstract suggestion than anything clearly delineated. In fact, many of Violette Fumée’s notes lose their distinct shape, except for violet and the lemony musk, and the perfume feels very sheer.

What appears instead is a generalized, rather amorphous woodiness. Neither the guaiac nor the cashmeran are detectable in any individual way, but they blend in with the other notes to create a sort of nebulous, “woody musk” cocoon in which the violets are nestled. The cashmeran is noticeable mostly through the growing touch of creaminess in Violette Fumée’s base, almost like shea. By the 90-minute mark, the perfume is primarily a fresh, violet floral scent with strong bergamot musk and a touch of sweetness, all resting upon a thin base of creamy woods. A hint of vetiver lingers in the background, but there is no smokiness, very little sense of oakmoss, and only a suggestion of crisp greenness. The perfume now lies just an inch, at best, above my skin.

As a whole, Violette Fumée is a very airy, lightweight fragrance with soft, quiet sillage. Three smears amounting to 2 small spritzes from an actual bottle gave me 2 inches in projection. Applying a larger quantity did not significantly change that number. By the end of the second hour, the perfume is a skin scent on me and feels very thin.

Artist unknown. Source: pinterest via eBay.

At the start of the 3rd hour, Violette Fumée is a fresh, light, largely abstract floral with a vague suggestion of violets, followed by sharp, synthetic, lemony musk, all atop a base of generic woodiness with creaminess. As a whole, the perfume feels very clean and has something of a soapy nuance, thanks to the fabric softener musk. The impression of greenness has completely disappeared, but a slight powderiness has taken its place.

Violette Fumée remains largely unchanged for hours to come. The rose makes a quiet appearance at the end of the 6th hour, but it feels thin, pink, and very wan. The general bouquet is now primarily an abstract “floral” accord dominated by citric cleanness and a touch of vague woodiness. Even the creaminess in the base feels more muted and thin. In its final moments, Violette Fumée is a blur of something floral and clean. All in all, the perfume consistently lasted between 10 and 11 hours, largely because my skin holds onto clean musk synthetics like the devil.

Photo: My own.

Violette Fumée has generally received very good reviews, both from bloggers and on Fragrantica. The Non-Blonde writes, in part:

Violette Fumée is a gender-bending fragrance. Smoke and flowers, delicate tendrils and petals against musky creamy wood. Pipe tobacco that has an almost fruity core, a rich texture with a modern sensibility. I wanted to describe the dry-down as a purple cloak, but that’s a bit over the top, while Mona di Orio created Violette Fumée as a wearable and sophisticated personal fragrance for a man with an impeccable urbane taste.

The musky dry-down is of the slightly fruity kind, round, rich and satisfying. It still has those purple fumes surrounding it, and I feel an urge to lose myself in this mist. Despite all of that and the high concentration of the juice, Violette Fumée is not a heavy perfume. Applied moderately, it’s somewhere between a skin scent and a fashion accessory that you notice but doesn’t steal the show from your words.

“Green-purpel Fractal by Aqualoop31.” Source: aqualoop31.deviantart.com

For The Scented Hound, Violette Fumée was also a lovely experience, one which reminded him of a “page from a 19th century botanical illustrative leather bound book.” He writes, in part:

Violette Fumee opens with the most beautiful lavender and bergamot combination; it’s herbal and refreshing in a creamy comforting way. After a few minutes, the fragrance starts to warm and become deeper as a beefy oakmoss emerges from the bottom that envelopes and seems to fold over the lavender. After about 10 minutes or so, the violet seems to make an appearance from the edge of the fragrance. I know this is going to sound strange, but it’s appearance is like prairie dogs popping their head out of the ground. What I mean is that the violet doesn’t come out at once, but seems to pop in and out until eventually you feel like you are surrounded by violets tinged with rose. Violette Fumee at this point still retains its creaminess but it becomes slightly brighter without becoming sheer. What I love about this is that the herbal aspects of the fragrance keep this from becoming too floral and pretty which allow Violette Fumee to retain a substantive elegance. After some time, the myrrh and opoponax emerge from below and a slight suede provides for a beautiful finish to this multi-faceted fragrance.

Source: parfumi.net

On Fragrantica, most people seem to adore Violette Fumée, with some comparing it to Chanel‘s No. 19 and Cristalle. For example, “kxnaiades” writes, in part:

Violette Fumee is like no other violet scent I’ve come across. I thought Lez Nez’s Unicorn Spell and CDG Stephen Jones were different and unique takes on violet. Mona di Orio’s Violet Fumee pretty much blazes past these and leaves them in her smoke, in terms of originality. This really has to be sat down with and taken time with to enjoy, it’s complex and does not reveal it’s entirety in the first half hour. I agree that it’s opening reminds me alot of Cristalle and the like. Cristalle opens cold and unreachable on me, just like Violette Fumee did. I know perfectly well what clary sage smells like now, the leathery note was clearly in the icy herbal opening. However, making friends does take time and I was patient. My faith was well-placed and with time, the chill air left and I was greeted with a fresh violet with its leaves still green and perky, resins and woods. I much much prefer the warmer drydown to the opening so thankfully this lasts very well on my skin with a single spritz. This is not an easy scent to like, but neither were Cristalle or No. 19 for me intially, but now is a different story from then. Violette Fumee is not for those looking for a sweet violet pastille scent. It’s a decidedly unisex take on violet with a bold entrance and uncompromising quality I’ve come to expect from Mona di Orio. This is no shrinking violet.

Source: raymichemin.canalblog.com

For “Mick Trick,” Violet Fumée didn’t remind him of any Chanels but he also really liked the scent, though he does note that the “fumee” aspect was barely noticeable on his skin. He writes, in part:

Violette Fumee opens with a fresh sparkly triumvirate of green violet leaf, a splash of golden effervescent honeyed bergamot and subtle herbal lavender. Towards the heart the violet flower builds, an ultra-fine polished smooth powderiness is present but checked and never overwhelms, as opoponax adds resinous sweetness and a creaminess to the violet, forming the languorous sinuous and slightly shimmering heart of the fragrance. There’s also a very subtle tobacco note appearing at the beginning of the drydown, although I noticed this only on the second full wearing. At late drydown the violet flower recedes and watery violet leaf endures with a soft suede musky aspect (must be the cashmeran).

As others have noted the ‘fumee’ aspect is noticeable by its absence. Although I experienced a couple of phantom smokey tendrils that are gone as soon as I noticed then. It lays close and after around 4 hours is really a skin scent, however I experienced +12 hours longevity, on fabric it’s also +next day material. Not bad at all. There is a sweetness to VF, but it always retains a freshness and never threatens to become cloying. I’ve worn it now three times in the last four days, it’s got a subtle luxurious allure that keeps me coming back for more, I like it very much.

There are only two negative reviews for the fragrance:

Awful, smoky and cheap, totally synth. [¶] Crazy price, sillage bad, longevity bad. [¶] Thumbs down.

The drydown smells on me like Earl Grey tea leaves.

Violet Fumée is not cheap at $330 or €230, though the bottle is a 100 ml. I don’t think it feels like an eau de parfum at all, something that one Fragrantica commentator also mentioned. For me, the perfume is very over-priced for what it is, and I don’t find its quality to be impressive. The bergamot musk dominated much of the drydown on my skin, which is perhaps why that last quote from Fragrantica mentions “Earl Grey tea leaves,” but it is the sharpness of the synthetic that I found to be particularly objectionable. For $330, I’d like a lot more than citric fabric softener emanating from my skin — and a sheer, wispy, thin, largely abstract floral-woody-musk isn’t it.

In all fairness, I despise clean, white musk — in anything — and other people don’t have the same issues with the note. They also are not so sensitive to synthetics which my skin amplifies quite a bit. Plus, as I’ve tried to make clear, I’m in a distinct, tiny minority regarding this scent. Everyone else seems to be a fan. So, if you love violet fragrances and clean, fresh florals as a whole, then you may want to give Violette Fumée a sniff.

DETAILS:

Cost, Sizes, Sets & Availability: Violette Fumée is an eau de parfum, and is available in two different options or sizes. The full bottle is 3.4 oz/100 ml and costs $330, €230, or £195. It is available world-wide on the Mona di Orio website which also sells a 5 ml roll-on bottle for €20. However, Violette Fumée is not one of the fragrances included in the usual MdO Travel set of 3 minis or in the Nombres d’Or Discovery Set of 8 x 5ml bottles. In the U.S.: Violette Fumée is sold at Luckyscent, Parfum1, and MinNewYork. All three places sell samples. Outside the U.S: In the UK, you can find Violette Fumée at Les Senteurs which sells it for £195, and also offers a sample vial for sale. Mona di Orio’s full line can also be found at Roullier White. In Europe, Violette Fumée is sold at Premiere Avenue, Jovoy, and First in Fragrance. The Mona di Orio line is also sold at Essenza Nobile. In Paris, Mona di Orio is sold at Marie Antoinette, and you can email Antonio to purchase. In the Netherlands, the line is offered at ParfuMaria and Skin Cosmetics. In the United Arab Emirates, Mona di Orio is sold at Harvey Nichols. In Australia, Melbourne’s Peony Haute Parfumerie carries the brand. For all other countries from Russia to Spain, you can use the Store Locator guide on the company website. Samples: Samples are available at Surrender to Chance starting at $4.50 for a 1/2 ml vial, at Luckyscent, Parfum1, and many of the European retailers linked to above.

SHL 777 Rose de Petra: Desert Rose

Posted on May 30, 2014 by Kafkaesque

Source: Pinterest

The ancient temple of Petra soars high in the sky before a vast desert whose sands are stained pink and red with the blood of roses. The flowers are dusted with fiery spices, then nestled in a cocoon of green mosses and dry woods. A soft ambered hue hangs above them matching the gold-pink-red of the caves near the temple, while down below trickles a dark stream of smoky styrax, balsamic resins, and a touch of leather. A woman walks quietly in the shade, veiled in rose-red, her dark eyes watching the incoming shadows as the dusty desert wind brings sand, dryness and whispers of wood from distant lands. She wears Rose de Petra by Stéphane Humbert Lucas.

Every time I wear Rose de Petra, its desert inspiration and its layered, spicy dryness always make me think of Sting’s famous song, “Desert Rose“:

I dream of rain
I lift my gaze to empty skies above
I close my eyes, this rare perfume
Is the sweet intoxication of her love

I dream of rain
I dream of gardens in the desert sand
I wake in pain
I dream of love as time runs through my hand

Sweet desert rose
Each of her veils, a secret promise
This desert flower
No sweet perfume ever tortured me more than this

Sweet desert rose
This memory of Eden haunts us all
This desert flower, this rare perfume
Is the sweet intoxication of the fall.

Source: cn.forwallpaper.com

Unlike poor Sting, Rose de Petra doesn’t make me feel tortured or pained, but it does indeed call to mind the desert rose that hides its “gardens in the sand” behind veils, each layer like a secret promise of more to come, before revealing its soft, sweet heart. I’m not particularly fond of rose fragrances, but I thought this one was very refined, wonderfully smooth, and really lovely. Yes, even “intoxicating” at times, just as the song says, though not because of the actual rose note, in my opinion.

Rose de Petra is a fragrance from the Paris niche house, Stéphane Humbert Lucas 777 (hereinafter just referred to as “SHL” or “777“). Monsieur Lucas was the in-house perfumer for SoOud and Nez à Nez, but launched his new house in 2013. There were originally seven fragrances, one of which was Rose de Petra, followed by several new releases this year. They are all officially listed as being eau de parfums, but are really extrait or pure parfums with at least 24% concentration.

Rose de Petra. Source: SHL 777 Facebook page.

Until last month, all the 777 creations were exclusive to Europe, Russia, and Middle Eastern, but they are now carried in America at Luckyscent and Osswald NY. Monsieur Lucas kindly and graciously sent me samples of his entire 11-piece collection, from the jaw-dropping, spectacular, monster amber, O Hira (which blew my socks off), the smoky new Oud 777, the gourmand Une Nuit à Doha, and the superb Black Gemstone which was love at first sniff for me. This is the final review of the series.

Al Khazneh Temple at Petra. Source: Wikimedia

Monsieur Lucas has a genuine love of the Middle East, from its majestic ancient buildings to its philosophical mysticism, and he uses both as the inspiration for all the fragrances in his new line. For Rose de Petra, he was moved partially by the magnificent, famed temple of Petra in Jordan, but also by “rose du sable” or the “desert rose.” As Wikipedia explains, those are colloquial names given to a desert crystal made partially from sand in a formation which resembles a rose. Sands and rose… that should give you a small idea of Rose de Petra’s nature, but its core essence is something very different in my opinion.

The fragrance is essentially a chypre-oriental hybrid, though you’d never guess that by looking at its official notes of its notes or the press release description provided to me:

Source: galleryhip.com

Philter of Bulgarian rose,
red epithem, sensual and pungent.
Generous, silky and mystical rose.

Notes:
Rose Oxide – Pomegranate – Litchi
Bulgarian rose
Pepper – Cardamom – Cumin seeds.

Regular readers of my 777 reviews will know by now that the official list given to places like Fragrantica or to distributors is merely a highly abbreviated, thumbnail synopsis. The lists are never complete, and leave off what I’d estimate to be 40% to 70% of the elements, depending on the fragrance. (In the case of O Hira, the one note “list” omits 99% of the actual notes.) Monsieur Lucas has told me candidly that he wants people to be moved emotionally by what they smell, not to be fixated on the details. He believes that perfume should be about a journey, almost a transcendental experience or escape. The minutiae detracts from what he wants you to feel.

Saffron. Source: FoodandFarsi.com (Website link embedded within.)

Well, I’m far too OCD about details for such abstract esotericism. I like to know what’s in a scent, especially when I detect a lot more than what is listed. In the case of Rose de Petra, I smelled saffron, patchouli, styrax, a balsamic resin, cedar, vanilla, tonka, a tobacco-like leatheriness, a leafy greenness, and an oud note. So I wrote to Monsieur Lucas, and it turns out that many of those things are indeed in Rose de Petra, though not the oud which he was happy to hear about and which he said was a sort of “mirage” that he’d intentionally sought to create.

The list of notes in Rose de Petra is actually closer to the following, though Monsieur Lucas hinted that even this is not complete:

Essence of Bulgarian rose, rose oxide, litchi, pomegranate, pepper, cardamom, cumin, saffron, cinnamon, patchouli, leather, Peru balsam, styrax, vetiver, cedar, oakmoss, tree moss, labdanum [amber], coumarin, and vanilla.

One of the visual inspirations for Rose de Petra, and its rose note. Source: Stéphane Humbert Lucas.

One of the visual inspirations for Rose de Petra, and its fruity Bulgarian rose note. Source: Stéphane Humbert Lucas.

In his correspondence with me, Monsieur Lucas said he sought to make a fragrance that highlighted contrasts. The fruitiness and gaiety of the Bulgarian rose; the heat, spices, stoniness. and mystery of the desert; the sandy beauty of the “Rose du Sables” or desert rose; and the striated stone of Petra. He wanted a composition that was “chaud et froid,” hot and cold, with small touches of various mosses and “green” fresh cedar counterbalanced by the fiery spices, the rich Peru balsam, dark leather, and smoky styrax. And, to demonstrate the contrasts, he shared the photos which inspired him and which represent the visuals of Rose de Petra in his mind:

“Rose du Sables,” Desert Rose rock crystal. Source: Stéphane Humbert Lucas

Source: Stéphane Humbert Lucas

Rose de Petra opens on my skin with pink roses that are dewy and wet, simultaneously pale but rich. For all their delicacy, they are heavily sprinkled with spices from nutty cardamon and dusty cumin to the fieriness of black pepper and red-gold saffron. Sweet cinnamon follows in their trail, then the fruity tartness of pomegranates. The liquidy dewiness is a subtle, muted touch which stems from the lychee (or litchi), and it is quickly overwhelmed by a heaping dose of very fruited, purple patchouli which turns the rose from pink to blood-red.

Source: banoosh.com

There are other elements noticeable as well. As the spices grow stronger on top, the first hints of the dark base appear, almost like a shadow falling over the background. There is a subtle, tiny streak of smoky leatheriness from the styrax, while the Peru balsam adds both an undercurrent of sticky darkness and a full-bodied richness to the scent. Lurking at the edges is a tangy sweet-sourness, accompanied by a leafy greenness. It goes beyond mere pomegranates, and I initially wondered if a tiny dose of cassis had been used as well. At a much higher dosage and quantity, those notes reveal themselves to be oakmoss.

I’ve tested Rose de Petra a number of times and, while the overall parameters of the opening are largely the same, the perfume really shines if you apply more of the scent. My sample atomizer had a very wonky, temperamental spray that gave out little dribs and drabs, so the first time I applied roughly the equivalent of one decent spritz from a bottle. On subsequent occasions, I doubled and even tripled the dose and… good heavens, the oakmoss really shines forth. In some fragrances, moss notes can smell pungently mineralized, grey, fusty, dusty, or akin to dry tree bark. Here, however, it is lushly green, rich, and smooth.

Source: 1ms.net

These richer elements transform the rose in less than five minutes. From the delicate, pale, dewy, little thing of its opening, the rose now feels drenched in a darkly fruited liqueur, as if a rich cordial had been poured all over the velvety petals. Fieriness lies just underneath from the spices, while a subtle, tart tanginess from the pomegranates weaves in and out of the top notes like tiny, little fireflies. The whole thing likes on a base that is plushly green from the oakmoss, but overcast with black shadows from leathery, smoky, balsamic elements.

Photo: David Hare. Source: open.az

I know some of you are cumin-phobes who shudder at the mere mention of the word, so let me reassure you here and now: you needn’t worry. Nothing in Rose de Petra smells fetid, sweaty, food-like, or reminiscent of stale, unwashed body odor. Rather, each and every time I’ve tested the fragrance, the note is more like an abstract, spicy dustiness. To be honest, the cumin is a really subtle, minor note in the opening, hardly detectable on my skin next to the saffron, liqueured fruits, oakmoss and rose. And, as time passes, it grows even more abstract, like a mere suggestion of dustiness left at the bottom of an ancient spice drawer.

Photo: Joel Ryan/Invision/AP for Vivienne Westwood, London Fashion week, 2013. Source: Salon.com

At the end of the day, the rose and only the rose is the star of this soliflore. Rose de Petra feels like one, big long aria by a rose wearing different costumes, shedding the chypre-like mosses and patchouli veils of its opening to show its more purely oriental skin later on.

It is like Salome and the Dance of the Seven Veils, but it also reminds me of something else: Frederic Malle‘s famous Portrait of a Lady (“POAL”). I wasn’t keen on the latter which was a gooey, rose-patchouli explosion on my skin with virtually no oakmoss to imbue it with any real chypre character. Rose de Petra’s opening feels like a spicier, substantially less syrupy, much deeper and richer version of the Malle scent. There is a greenness and subtle tanginess to the 777 fragrance that POAL lacks, and more dusty spiciness than the Malle ever demonstrated on my skin. Rose de Petra also feels much more concentrated, at least at first.

Source: pinterest

20 minutes into its development, Rose de Petra grows even spicier, and begins to resemble another famous fragrance. As fieriness and dustiness take over the blood-red, velvety flowers, Rose de Petra is slowly turning into what most people seem to experience with Amouage‘s Lyric Woman. On my skin, the latter was largely all about the ylang-ylang with very little spiced rose, so perhaps I should compare Rose de Petra to Lyric’s sister from the same nose: Epic Woman. The latter was definitely all about spiced, dusty, woody roses on me, but the very jammy richness of the flowers probably makes Rose de Petra closer to the conventional interpretation of Lyric Woman. The bottom line, though, is that the 777 creation starts off on my skin with similarities to Malle’s Portrait of a Lady, then turns into a combination of the Malle with one or both of Amouage’s famous rose fragrances. To be sure, there are differences, but the kinship is there.

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

Thoughts of Epic Woman come to mind again at the end of the first hour when Rose de Petra loses some of its jammy sweetness and chypre accords. The perfume turns woodier, drier and slightly balsamic as the base elements begin to rise to the surface. The oakmoss retreats, the subtle touch of tartness from the pomegranate dies away, and the individual spices turn more amorphous and indistinct. It’s no longer easy to pull out the cinnamon, black pepper, saffron, or even the dustiness of the cumin; everything has melted into each other, as the notes overlap seamlessly. Even the very concentrated denseness of Rose de Petra softens, with the sillage changing to match.

Rose de Petra starts off as quite a strong, robust scent with decent projection. Using the equivalent of 2 tiny sprays from an actual bottle gave me 2 inches of sillage, while 3 small sprays gave me 3 inches. However, those numbers soon drop, and Rose de Petra’s concentrated, rich opening bouquet turns quite airy and soft roughly 75 minutes into its development. At that time, the sillage drops to an inch above the skin, where it remains for the next few hours. So, when taken as an average whole, I would say that Rose de Petra is generally an airy, light scent with soft, almost intimate projection.

Source: YouTube video of Desert Rose, posted in full at the end.

At the start of the 3rd hour, Rose de Petra shifts again. The dry, woody tonalities grow stronger, and there was a definite suggestion of oud on my skin when I used a lesser quantity. At a higher dose, that was not as evident, though the cedar most definitely was. In both cases, however, and regardless of quantity, the perfume takes on a darker quality as the woods and smoky styrax rise up from the base to envelop the rose. Even the leather grows faintly more noticeable, though it is still mostly a subtle suggestion on my skin.

Photo: my own.

Rose de Petra now demonstrates a chiaroscuro effect, a play of light and dark, as the darker shadows are contrasted by a glow of warmth from the labdanum amber and by a definite streak of creaminess with a slightly powdery touch that speaks to the tonka and vanilla. (The note list mentions coumarin, but, for me, that often has a hay-like characteristic that I don’t detect here. Plus, coumarin comes from tonka beans, and that’s what I detect, so that’s what I’m going to call it.) Rose de Petra continues to be spicy, but it remains largely abstract, though once in a while a more distinct whisper of cardamon and pepper does pop up.

Rose de Petra has lost a lot of its thick richness, both in terms of the jammy, velvety rose and the perfume’s body itself. It feels much airier and softer than it did in the first hour. As a whole, Rose de Petra is now a spicy, dry, woody rose, lightly flecked by a dark resins, a suggestion of smokiness, a golden warmth, and creamy vanilla. There is a whisper of something almost like oud, but only a minute, lingering patina of jammy, patchouli sweetness or oakmoss.

Rose de Petra turns wholly abstract by the middle of the 4th hour. It is the merest wisp of a soft, slightly spicy rose with woodiness and tonka vanilla. Though there is a touch of sweetness, the perfume’s dryness and the occasionally sandy, powdery feel of the vanilla call to mind the desert sand of its inspiration. Sting’s “Desert Rose,” indeed. It’s very pretty, but it’s also a complete skin scent on me by this point.

The perfume continues to subtly shift, as the tonka vanilla grows stronger with every passing moment and vies with the woody tonalities for second place. By the start of the 6th hour, the lightly spiced rose is infused with as much creamy tonka as woodiness, all in a gauzy wisp that coats the skin like translucent pink silk. On occasion, a lingering hint of pomegranate floats by to startle me, almost like red dandelion fluff in the wind. Once in a blue moon, a hint of something darker follows it, but, for the most part, Rose de Petra has shed its dark shadows, opting for vanilla instead of balsamic, leathery, smoky elements. In its final moments, the perfume is a blur of sweet, dusty, pale pink roses with vanilla and the faintest suggestion of something woody.

Photo: my own.

All in all, Rose de Petra lasts between 8.5 and 9.5 hours on my skin, depending on how much I apply. It has the shortest longevity of any of the SHL line on my skin, and it also feels like the softest of the 11 fragrances. Like almost all of Monsieur Lucas’ creations (minus the 2022 Generation Homme which I despise with a passion), Rose de Petra feels very smooth, expensive, and refined. It’s hardly the most revolutionary, unusual, edgy scent around, but then few rose soliflores are.

In fact, I have to say, I liked it a lot more than I thought. Rose perfumes aren’t generally my thing, especially when they’re gooey and overly sweet, but I find very mossy or spicy versions much more appealing. Rose de Petra is what I had hoped both Portrait of a Lady and Lyric Woman would be on my skin, combined into one scent. I really liked the fiery bite that briefly resembled chili peppers at one point when I applied a greater dosage, along with something verging almost on a tobacco undertone from the mix of dark resins, labdanum and leather. The combination of dry dustiness, jammy sweetness, and fiery spices was particularly nice when contrasted with the oakmoss.

Even the fruitchouli was well calibrated so that it didn’t take on Portrait of a Lady’s purple, syrupy excesses. Actually, I think Rose de Petra’s heightened degrees of spiciness and background woodiness that really helped in that regard, along with the subtle touch of pomegranate. All three things ensure that the patchouli remains as a sort of tart, tangy liqueured cordial, instead of revoltingly sweet molasses. The pomegranate may not have been hugely noticeable in its own right, and I would have preferred much more of it, but I think it works subtly and indirectly to help keep the balance.

Photo: my own.

In the subsequent stages, the interplay between the creamy vanilla, the leathery base, and the warm ambered glow is truly lovely, especially when counterbalanced by the woody dryness. I can’t rave enough about the strongly balsamic, darker elements. They seep into everything, transforming the rose from the chypre of its opening into something purely Oriental, but none of it is sharp. All of it feels smooth and velvety soft, even the leathery, slightly smoky styrax. By the time the final stage rolled around, Rose de Petra frequently reminded me creamy, golden petals, thanks to the lovely vanilla tonka.

My only quibble with the fragrance is that it’s too soft and airy, with sillage that is a little too intimate, but all that is a matter of personal preference. It’s also not a hugely distinctive scent, except in terms of its quality. There, I think it stands neck and neck with offerings from Amouage or Frederic Malle. As a whole, I think Rose de Petra is a refined, approachable, uncomplicated but luxurious scent that could be worn on a variety of different occasions, including the office after the first hour has passed. I also think it is unisex, thanks to the darker, drier, and woody elements.

Rose de Petra is one of the more affordable creations in the 777 line. It retails for €148 or $220 for a 50 ml bottle of pure parfum. I think it’s definitely set at the right price. As a side note, Rose de Petra costs less at $220 than a comparable 50 ml bottle of Lyric Woman which retails for $280, and it is fractionally cheaper than Malle’s $230 Portrait of a Lady. If you love either of those fragrances, you should give Rose de Petra a sniff.

In the meantime, I leave you with an unofficial video for Sting’s Desert Rose. Its desert imagery, stunningly vivid colours, and romantic mood feel like a perfect fit for Rose de Petra in my mind.

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: Rose de Petra is an Extrait or pure parfum that is only available in a 50 ml bottle and costs $220 or €148. In the U.S.: Osswald NY carries the 777 line, and sells Rose de Petra for $220. Luckyscent also has 777 fragrances, and sells Rose de Petra for the same amount. Outside the U.S.: Currently, the Stéphane Humbert Lucas’ website is under construction, and doesn’t have an e-store. The best online resource is First in Fragrance which has all the SHL 777 line, including Rose de Petra. In London, you can find the 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 the Middle East, Souq.com used to have 6 of the earlier fragrances, but I no longer see them on the website. 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: In Europe, you can order a sample from First in Fragrance. In the U.S., none of the decanting sites currently carry this fragrance, but Luckyscent and Osswald NYC sell samples. Osswald’s Sample Program has a 3-order minimum but free domestic shipping. Pricing depends on the cost of the particular perfume in question. They range from $3 for a 2 ml vial, up to $9 for fragrances that cost over $300. Given Rose de Petra’s $220 price, a 2 ml spray sample should cost $6. It’s a better deal than Luckyscent’s $5 price for a small 0.7 dab vial. You can call Osswald at (212) 625-3111 to order, or use their website.

Oriza L. Legrand Vetiver Royal Bourbon

Posted on May 24, 2014 by Kafkaesque

Source: Source: hdwallsource.com

The sky was green, swirled with mists of vetiver, mint, and herbs, but blackness hovered just on the horizon. Storm clouds of cade brought tar and campfire smoke, while leather, styrax and resins seeped up from a ground made earthy with brown tobacco absolute. A fine layering of wet leaves and moss lay strewn around, a last lingering sign of fall. A single small tent was visible in the vast expanse of blackened greenness, shining a golden ambered light. None of these things, however, could detract from the Aurora Borealis swirling all around, from the smoky vetiver and mint called Vetiver Royal Bourbon.

Vetiver Royal Bourbon is a newly released fragrance from the ancient house of Oriza L. Legrand (hereinafter just “Oriza“). It originally debuted in 1914, but it very much has the feel of a modern niche fragrance. In fact, it is rather like a lighter, thinner cousin to Profumum Roma‘s Fumidus, though there are definite differences. The similarity to a very bold, edgy, extremely distinctive scent like Fumidus makes Vetiver Royal Bourbon rather an amazing feat, given that the perfume is exactly 100 years old and has been only lightly re-tweaked for the modern era by Hugo Lambert, the nose behind the “new” Oriza fragrances and one of the brand’s two co-owners.

Source: Oriza L. Legrand.

Vetiver Royal Bourbon is an eau de parfum and part of Oriza’s relatively recent Soliflore Collection, a collection where all the fragrances are designed to highlight one specific note. The name in the title should tell you which one is the focus here, but Vetiver Royal Bourbon has a much larger ingredient list than you might expect. The perfume includes:

Top Notes: Peppermint, Thyme & Absolute Vetiver
Heart Notes: Cistus Labdanum [Amber], Iris, Vetiver Bourbon & Sandalwood.
Base Notes: Essence of Cade, Leather, Styrax, Immortelle, Tobacco, & Oakmoss.

Source: hdwallsource.com

Vetiver Royal Bourbon opens on my skin with vetiver, vetiver, and more vetiver. However, it is thoroughly intertwined with mint, aromatic herbs, and a eucalyptus-like mentholated camphor. The very green mix is followed by hints of smoky and phenolic, tarry blackness from the cade, as well as even lighter touches of brown tobacco. The whole thing is sprinkled with a subtle booziness that is quite hard to explain. It’s definitely not the single malt Scotch whisky of Fumidus, but it’s not really like purely ambered warmth, either. It lies somewhere between amber and the “bourbon” in the perfume’s title.

Source: wallpoper.com

At times, something about the overall opening combination feels very much like a vetiver and patchouli duet to me. The true, original, black patchouli note that was so common with hippies in the 1970s could be very green, with nuances of both peppermint and camphorated menthol. The really absolute, undiluted versions also have leathery, tobacco, and oily, turpentine nuances, as demonstrated by Farmacia SS. Annunziata Patchouly Indonesiano. In contrast, more ’80s-style patchouli was golden-brown-red, warm, woody, often infused with an ambered touch, and sometimes a little boozy.

Both styles of patchouli with all of their characteristics are reflected here with Vetiver Royal Bourbon’s opening bouquet, though the notes are subtle, and aren’t all equal in terms of their prominence. To be clear, Vetiver Royal Bourbon does not actually contain patchouli — of any kind. But the peppermint, cade, amber, tobacco, styrax all manage to replicate various aspects of the note, even if it is in indirect form. The only thing which is missing is the sweaty dirtiness of black patchouli. That is most certainly not visible in Vetiver Royal Bourbon, not by any means.

Vetiver roots, the primary source of the aroma. Photo: Herbariasoap.com

One of things I find interesting about Vetiver Royal Bourbon is how the vetiver plays off of the other notes. Vetiver can smell like a variety of things, depending on the place from which it is sourced or how it is treated. It can be earthy, dry, grassy, minty, rooty, mineralized, or sometimes a little like lemongrass. On my skin, Haitian vetiver frequently manifests a strong mintiness, something that not everyone else experiences.

Here, Oriza has used actual peppermint to accompany the note, which rather leads to a situation where I’m getting double the dose. It’s a little bit of a problem for me, as minty vetiver is really not my thing and, in fact, even mintiness from patchouli can be a bit difficult for me. With Vetiver Royal Bourbon, each and every time I mention the note, you should assume that it smells of both vetiver and mint. The two things are really inseparable in Vetiver Royal Bourbon, from the very start of the fragrance all the way until its dying breath.

Yet, there is much more going on in the perfume’s opening moments. Under the top layer of green vetiver-mint, there is a subtle touch of earthiness, no doubt from the tobacco, followed by campfire smoke from the cade, burnt resins dominated by the styrax, and tarry, blackened leather. The oakmoss is subtle, but it adds to the story, too, conjuring up images of wet leaves festooning the ground in a damp, very misty, foggy countryside on a fall day. Much more apparent is that streak of boozy amber that I talked about earlier.

Source: Facebook page of “Amazing Landscapes, Nature, Animals and Places.” Photographer may be Nergis İnan.

It all reminds me strongly of Profumum‘s famous (or, perhaps, infamous?) Fumidus, though there are sharp differences. There is no Laphroaig whisky here, no saltiness, no diesel touch, and no passing suggestion of a compost heap. The sense of something peaty from the vetiver is more muted, as is the black rubberiness from the cade. As a whole, Vetiver Royal Bourbon feels greener, more herbal, and slightly more medicinal, especially for the first hour. Fumidus doesn’t really have anything comparable to the eucalyptus-like camphorated note that is evident here, and the mint that I experienced is probably limited to my weird skin chemistry and the tricks it plays with vetiver in general. Plus, even then, the mintiness was milder.

Photo: My own.

Fumidus feels like a much black scent as a whole. While there is a definite streak of that in Vetiver Royal Bourbon, thanks to the cade and styrax, it feels much less substantial or heavy here. Fumidus has birch tar conjoined, arm in arm, with the vetiver, but the balance is different in Vetiver Royal Bourbon. I think the cade note trails in 3rd place in the Oriza scent behind the vetiver-mint. Then again, cade is very similar to birch tar. One perfumer told me that he sees cade as a more masculine note than its olfactory cousin, while I think it has a more turpentine-like quality. The thing is, both Fumidus and Vetiver Royal Bourbon demonstrate quite a bit of the latter.

In Oriza’s creation, the cade’s turpentine nuance starts to awaken 20 minutes into the perfume’s development, along with a certain tarriness. Black leather and sticky, smoky, styrax join it, as they seep upwards to coat the pungently green, minty vetiver. The end result is to substantially weaken the impression of patchouli, and it soon fades away entirely. The perfume also becomes much less earthy, though an occasional hint of thick, slightly dirty tobacco absolute lurks at the edges.

“Novemthree” by Olaf Marshall. Source: vitaignescorpuslignum.blogspot.com

From a distance, Vetiver Royal Bourbon’s predominant bouquet now is of a chewy, dense, slightly dirty, minty, smoked vetiver. And, by and large, it remains largely the same way until its very end, with only a few exceptions. As a soliflore, Vetiver Royal Bourbon is never going to be a complex, twisting, morphing creature. It is a very linear scent, but there are changes to the secondary notes, their prominence, and the perfume’s sillage. It’s largely a question of degree.

One of the bigger changes pertains to Vetiver Royal Bourbon’s weight. It opens as an incredibly light fragrance, sheer, and feels quite insubstantial at first. The perfume is miles away from Fumidus in this regard, as the Profumum scent has great opaqueness, heavy oiliness, and density. In contrast, the Oriza scent feels as light as air, even though the actual notes are relatively strong. Vetiver Royal Bourbon doesn’t have Chypre Mousse‘s forcefulness, but it feels more potent than many others from the line, including Muguet Fleuri.

The odd thing is how that wispiness changes. Vetiver Royal Bourbon never gets into Fumidus territory, but it does grow deeper, richer, and fuller over time. The first hint of it arrives after 20 minutes, as the labdanum, tobacco, and styrax stir in the base. An hour and a half into the perfume’s evolution, Vetiver Royal Bourbon’s leathery quality grows more pronounced in the foundation. Up top, the cade’s turpentine and smokiness start to overshadow the aromatic, herbal and mentholated camphor notes. Once in a while, there is almost a burning feeling to the scent, as though a vetiver wildland had been covered with black pitch and tarry asphalt, then set on fire. The perfume now feels much heavier that it did at the start, though Vetiver Royal Bourbon is still a light fragrance as a whole. To put it bluntly, Vetiver Royal Bourbon is no longer anorexic, because the vetiver has been fed a meal of richer notes.

Source: wallpapervortex.com

By the end of the 4th hour, the labdanum is in full bloom, turning Vetiver Royal Bourbon sweeter and much warmer in feel. The various smoky, tarry, leathered, and turpentine undertones are in slow retreat. Vetiver Royal Bourbon is now primarily a minty vetiver scent cocooned in a warm, golden embrace with milder, increasingly muted smokiness and blackness. There is a slight powdery quality to the fragrance, but it’s really more of a texture than any actual powder. It’s almost as if the labdanum amber is a bit grainy, if that makes any sense.

Source: Source: hqwide.com

Over time, the ambered glow fades on my skin, and Vetiver Royal Bourbon turns into a minty vetiver duet. It’s as though the vetiver has been purified, set free of both the smoky, blacker, leathery elements and of the labdanum’s warmth. What is left is a scent that very dark green in visual hue, and largely limited to pure vetiver. I’m afraid its mintiness is too much for me, especially as it demonstrates a tiny medicinal touch on my skin with lingering traces of mentholated camphor. In its final moments, the perfume is a mere wisp of vetiver greenness. All in all, Vetiver Royal Bourbon consistently lasted over 9 hours on me: 10 hours with 3 small sprays, and just under 9.5 with 2.

I have worn and tested Vetiver Royal Bourbon four times in total. On all of those occasions, I never detect any immortelle. Not at any point on my skin. The perfume never varied in its core essence or in the structure that I’ve outlined here today, but there were two very minor differences. In one test, the booziness of the amber was significantly less noticeable. In another, the earthy, tobacco, and oakmoss undertones were even more muted and subtle.

I have the very vague, wholly unscientific sense that heat was the deciding factor in the last circumstance. More of Vetiver Royal Bourbon’s subtle nuances came out in the heat, while cooler temperatures (and higher air-conditioning levels) squashed some of the elements. And, as with a number of Oriza fragrances, applying a greater quantity of the fragrance seems to amplify some of its base notes.

There is great purity in Vetiver Royal Bourbon’s vetiver focus, as well as a triumphant celebration of its minty and smokier aspects. All of that makes it a little too much for me personally, but that is merely a question of individual tastes and the fact that I don’t love vetiver in such concentrated amounts. Fumidus was too much for me as well, though I respect it just as much. In both cases, it is the mintiness of the vetiver that is my difficulty, not the blackness, tarriness, or smokiness. I think those things are very well handled in Vetiver Royal Bourbon.

In fact, the Oriza perfume would be a great alternative to those who struggled with the much greater quantity of smoky birch tar in Fumidus, as well as its thick, oily density. I can’t see many people wearing Fumidus in summer, but Vetiver Royal Bourbon’s lightness makes it a fresher alternative that you could definitely pull off in the heat.

Alexander Skarsgård by Ralph Mecke for GQ Style German. Source: iloveromancenovels.blog63.fc2.com

As a whole, I think the perfume is unapologetically masculine in nature, and the handful of raves that I have seen for the scent on Oriza’s Facebook page all come from men. One chap stated how much he appreciated the vetiver’s darker facets, the lack of earthiness, and the perfume’s overall refinement. Another asked about the eucalyptus-like note, and I have a vague memory of someone else talking about the smoky leatheriness. I mention these comments largely because there are no other reviews for the fragrance that I can share with you. Vetiver Royal Bourbon is too new to have a Fragrantica entry, and no-one has tried it on Basenotes.

Oriza is a house whose creations sometimes have a very vintage feel, but Vetiver Royal Bourbon is a fragrance that could have been launched today by another niche house. It simply does not feel like a fragrance that was released 100 years ago, not by any stretch of the imagination. In fact, I’ve spent a good deal of time amusing myself with thoughts of people’s reactions back then to the smoky, leathery, Fumidus-like vetiver in a world where Jicky, L’Heure Bleue, Phul-Nana, powdery florals, and scented waters ruled the day. Vetiver Royal Bourbon must have been completely revolutionary for its time, but it fits in perfectly in today’s modern world.

Vetiver Royal Bourbon is very affordable for a niche scent, especially for 100 ml of eau de parfum. The perfume costs $125 or €90, which is less than the €120 price of its other Oriza siblings outside the Soliflore line. It is currently available on Oriza’s website and at a variety of European retailers. (See the Details section below.) For American readers, I’ve been told that Vetiver Royal Bourbon should be available next week (or at the beginning of June) at Luckyscent, a site which is now carrying the full Oriza L. Legrand line, including the lovely soaps and candles.

So, if you love smoky, minty vetiver, do give Vetiver Royal Bourbon a try. I think it’s very well done.

Disclosure: Sample courtesy of Oriza L. Legrand. That did not influence this review, I do not do paid reviews, and my opinions are my own.

DETAILS:

Cost & Availability: Vetiver Royal Bourbon is an eau de parfum that comes in a 100 ml or 3.4 oz bottle, and costs $125 or €90. It is available directly from Oriza’s e-store. A great sample set is also available but it does not include the Soliflore range of fragrances, such as Vetiver Royal Bourbon. In the U.S.: Luckyscent now carries the full Oriza L. Legrand line, and should be receiving Vetiver Royal Bourbon this upcoming week or at the start of June 2014. It will cost $125. Oriza is also carried at New York’s JuJu s’amuse. It has two locations, and I’ve provided the number for one, in case you want to check whether they do phone orders: 100 Thompson Street New York, NY 10012, with Ph: (212) 226.1201; but, also, 1220 Lexington Avenue (at 82nd Street), New York, NY 10018. Other vendors in Europe: Oriza’s perfumes are also sold at Paris’ Marie-Antoinette (which was my favorite perfume shop in Paris), as well as one store in Sweden. In the Netherlands, the Oriza line is carried at ParfuMaria, but VRB is not yet listed. Germany’s First in Fragrance also carries the Oriza Legrand line, but it is the same story there. Both stores should eventually get the fragrance. Oriza L. Legrand is also sold at a few places in Japan. For details on those retailers and the Swedish store, you can check Oriza Points of Sale page.

LM Parfums Ultimate Seduction

Posted on May 23, 2014 by Kafkaesque

She was the image of sweetness, softness, and femininity as she walked in the garden. Young, but sure of herself, confident, and at ease. She didn’t need a man to be content, though there were plenty who sought her. She didn’t follow the dictates of fashion, though she wore elegant clothes. She simply did what made her feel happy, seeking comfort, simplicity, and softness in her life.

Photographer: Carl Bengtsson. Source: fashionproduction.blogspot.com

That is the woman I imagine when I wear Ultimate Seduction, the latest fragrance from Laurent Mazzone and LM Parfums. It is a pure parfum extrait that was just released and whose essence is that of a very approachable, simple, sweet fruity-floral. For me, it radiates youthful femininity, and it has done so since I first tested the fragrance 8 months ago in Paris. Back then, Ultimate Seduction was called Lost Paradise, and Laurent Mazzone told me the inspiration and thought behind it. Contrary to my impressions of youthful innocence, the backstory is one that is all about a steamy love affair, and a sophisticated woman intent on seduction. The recent photo campaign that was released to accompany Ultimate Seduction’s launch underscores that point:

Source: Laurent Mazzone & LM Parfums.

Source: LM Parfums.

As you can see, there is a definite theme behind the text and images. Laurent Mazzone told me the story he saw in his head for both Ultimate Seduction and the woman who wore it. My memory is a little hazy as to all the specific details, so I apologise in advance to Monsieur Mazzone if I get some parts of it wrong, but the story is important in explaining certain aspects of the perfume that he created.

Marion Cotillard photographed by Mert Alas & Marcus Piggott for French Vogue, September 2010. Source: Glamscheck.com

Marion Cotillard by Mert & Marcus for French Vogue, September 2010. Source: Glamscheck.com

The woman in Monsieur Mazzone’s imagination wore Ultimate Seduction as a tantalizing suggestion, discretely wafting out from under a little black dress, on her way to meet her lover. (The clothing may be my own extrapolation, or it may have come from Monsieur Mazzone who is heavily involved in the fashion world and who had come to attend Paris Fashion Week.) Regardless of the clothing details, the gist of the story is that the woman was elegant, fashionable, worldly, strongly confident, and on her way to a steamy rendezvous with her lover.

Ultimate Seduction was meant not only to express her own sweet femininity and to drive her lover wild, but to also symbolise the juicy passion of their hot affair. And juicy sweetness is a strong part of the fragrance’s essence, thanks to the following perfume pyramid:

TOP NOTES: Pink pepper, black currant, orange
HEART NOTES: Violet, iris, rose
BASE NOTES: patchouli, amber, blond wood, cedar, praline.

Blackcurrant or cassis. Source: The Perfume Shrine.

Ultimate Seduction opens on my skin in a blast of tangy tartness, infused with juicy, fruited sweetness. There is a lovely heaping dose of black currants which I’m used to calling cassis, so I’ll stick with that term. The fruit can sometimes smell sharp, indolic, and, on some unfortunate people, reminiscent of cat pee or urine, but that is not the case here. Instead, it is merely a sour tartness that feels very green and incredibly bright.

The cassis is accompanied by a host of other notes as well. There are: blood-red roses dripping with heavy, syrupy, purple patchouli molasses; fruity pink peppercorn berries that occasionally have a peppery blackness to them; and ripe, juicy oranges. The whole kaleidoscope of bright, tart, sour, juicy fruitiness rests upon a very thin foundation of dry cedar. In the background, there are hints of a silky vanilla note that dart about, though the note quickly retreats into the shadows to await later developments.

Fruit molasses or jam. Source: Shutterstock.com

The floral elements are completely overshadowed on my skin in the opening moments by the fruits and patchouli. The cassis, in particular, grows stronger after a few minutes, adding a truly necessary tartness to counterbalance the other, sweeter elements. I’m a bit dubious about the pink peppercorns which used to be a big trend about 5 years ago in perfumery, but it is a subtle touch. Unfortunately for me, the purple, syrupy fruit-chouli — one of the notes that I like the least in perfumery — is quite profound. Regular readers know that this sort of patchouli is one of my bête noires, especially when combined with roses, and it is the main reason why I had such an immediate, instantly negative response to the fragrance when I first tried it 8 months ago.

Yet, I want to say clearly that Ultimate Seduction is much better than the “Lost Paradise” that I encountered that day long ago in the Hotel Costes. It is much tarter, tangier, brighter, and, for the first hour or so, much greener and crisper as well. Ultimate Seduction feels better balanced, more well-rounded, with better body and more elegance. The company says that the perfume has not been changed in terms of its notes since the time it was called Lost Paradise.

However, it does acknowledge that it smells slightly different in terms of its nuances, and explains that maceration is the reason. Ultimate Seduction has had 8 months to steep, strengthen, and grow deeper. Perhaps, but I am convinced that Ultimate Seduction is significantly tangier and tarter than it was, and I have to wonder if the sweetness, patchouli, and rose levels have been modulated down a notch. Don’t get me wrong, the perfume is still very sweet in its opening phase — too sweet for my personal tastes, even now — but it’s no longer the cloying tidal wave (with overly gooey fruitchouli roses) that it was back then. In all honesty, even with my patchouli issues, there are times when I thoroughly enjoy Ultimate Seduction’s opening. It’s all thanks to the cassis, which is a simply beautiful touch here in its almost mouth-watering tartness.

“Flower spiral” by Sarah Cheriton Jones via fineartamerica.com

As noted earlier, the floral elements are quite overshadowed at first. I don’t smell any iris on my skin, now or at any point. Yet, occasionally, there are wafts of a dewy, rather metallic violet note in the background. It’s akin to a small firefly being buffeted about by multi-coloured Mistral winds of sour-tart black currants, oranges, red peppercorn berries, and purple fruitchouli roses. The violet simply can’t withstand the strength of the other notes, though it makes more of an effort to do so later in the perfume’s development.

Another very subtle note that appears after 30 minutes is something that seems almost like a lemony-bergamot tonality. There is no bergamot listed in the notes, but I detect something that differs from the tart, crisp acidity of a blackcurrant. It really smells more like a citrus note, though it is subtle. Whatever the source, it helps to add further brightness to the fruited bouquet.

Remember Monsieur Mazzone’s story about the woman discreetly wafting her seductive scent for her lover? Well, the word “discreetly” is important because Ultimate Seduction opens as a soft scent, before turning quite intimate. The sillage is not enormous: 2 sprays from an actual bottle gave me 2 inches in projection; 3 sprays gave me 3 inches. I don’t think a greater application would yield much more than that, because Ultimate Seduction is intentionally meant to be something akin to lingerie.

Photographers Mert & Marcus, photo campaign for Brian Atwood. Source: hommemodel.blogspot.com

Photographers: Mert & Marcus, for the Brian Atwood campaign. Source: hommemodel.blogspot.com

Granted, Monsieur Mazzone wants it to be very sexy lingerie that you would wear to meet your lover, but lingerie nevertheless. To that end, Ultimate Seduction feels very gauzy and airy, even in the opening moments. The force of the sweet, tart, juicy fruits is strong, but the perfume itself is surprisingly lightweight, right from the start. Frankly, I found the degree of sheerness to a little surprising for an Extrait de Parfum or Pure Parfum, but Ultimate Seduction has stellar longevity to compensate.

I’m afraid I don’t see any of the torrid heatedness, insanity, obsession, madness or toxicity that Ultimate Seduction is meant to represent. To be fair, there are few fragrances that conjure up even half of those things for me. My beloved vintage Opium is one of them. In my opinion, if there were any fragrances in the LM Parfums line that would qualify for those terms, it would absolutely and unquestionably be the gorgeous, intoxicating, heady, but also strangely comforting Sensual Orchid, not Ultimate Seduction. In fact, my review for the former was expressly all about a woman dressing (or, rather, undressing) to seduce her lover, as represented by this image:

Gisele Bundchen by Mert & Marcus, for Vogue Turkey March 2011.

Try as I might, nothing I smell in Ultimate Seduction conveys to me the sort of imagery that the several Mert & Marcus photos up above represents. (And, yes, I really love Mert & Marcus.) Instead, I see this woman:

Photographer: Carl Bengtsson. Source: fashionproduction.blogspot.com

There is absolutely nothing wrong with the latter, and she’s a beautiful woman with great softness and elegant femininity, but she symbolises a very different sort of perfume than the one Ultimate Seduction is meant to be. My point is that the marketing for Ultimate Seduction may lead you to think that it is a very different scent than what actually appeared on my skin.

Part of my difficulty is that fruity-florals with jammy patchouli always seem like very young, youthful scents for me. They are safe, approachable, and can be well-done on occasion as Ultimate Seduction is, but the entire genre simply does not scream seduction, sophistication, lustiness, or even edginess to me. Ultimate Seduction is a highly feminine, soft, sweet fragrance with a very traditional mainstream profile, but it has been done in a very refined, smooth, seamless way. It’s the quality that speaks out, not the scent itself.

As a side note, while I think that most fragrances can be unisex on the right person or with the right attitude, I think Ultimate Seduction skews quite feminine. I really can’t see a lot of men wearing it — unless they truly adore sweet fruity-florals — but perhaps I simply have strange associations in my head for the genre.

Ultimate Seduction has 3 distinct stages, and it is the very long, final drydown phase which is the loveliest in my opinion. The opening stage dominated by the tart cassis and other elements slowly segues into a secondary bridge phase, where the vanilla rises up from the base to merge with the fruity-floral elements and thereby create a transition to the final phase centered all around a creamy, slightly dry, very smooth, tonka vanilla.

Stage Two begins precisely at the end of the first hour, as the vanilla blankets everything, softening them, diluting the tartness of the cassis and the heaviness of the fruited patchouli. Oddly, the one exception seems to the violet note which makes a brief reappearance and feels a little more metallic. It is short-lived, however, and fades away after another 20 minutes. The orange sinks into the base, while the black currant’s green tartness begins to weakens. 90 minutes into the perfume’s development, it feels more like a suggestion than anything else.

Photo: my own.

All the notes start to blur into one, overlapping, losing their distinct edge and clarity. Ultimate Seduction feels like one of those images where everything has filtered through a soft lens, and all the shapes have been blurred out. Even the patchouli rose feels more muted, almost as if it had been tamed by the vanilla. The loss of the tart, sour tanginess is a real shame, but the weakening of that syrupy sweetness almost makes up for it. What’s left is an increasingly abstract fruity-floral with a lusciously silky, airy, vanilla mousse, and only occasional whispers of green tartness.

Photo: my own.

By the end of the 2nd hour, Ultimate Seduction is completely blurry, and evokes soft clouds made of the almost translucent, pink, ethereal petals. Words keep running through my head for the next few hours like a litany: “Soft. Petals. Feminine. Soft, soft, soft!” I keep imagining a sea of petals, all pink, white, peach and cream, with a touch of lingering fruity redness. The perfume itself now smells like a misty cloud of pink, abstract fruity-rosiness with vanilla. The whole thing has a seamless smoothness that is impressive, even if hazy perfumes are not my actual cup of tea.

In fact, I’m honestly a little surprised to like Ultimate Seduction as much as I do, particularly given my reaction to “Lost Paradise” all those months ago. One reason is that the perfume definitely gets much better after the opening hour, even if the tartness has largely dissipated. A bigger reason is that there is something very easygoing, approachable, and uncomplicated about the scent. Some days, I just want to put on a smooth, expensive-smelling fragrance, feel good, and not have to analyze the bloody thing. The main reason though is the smooth softness that I keep talking about, and that wonderful, silky, but slightly dry vanilla. The two things together somehow manage to make the perfume feel almost like the lingerie that it’s meant to partially represent. And, like lingerie, by the middle of the 3rd hour, Ultimate Seduction is an very intimate scent that lies just fractionally above the skin.

In the second stage, the petal-soft combination of fruity rose and vanilla is subtly counterbalanced by an undercurrent of dry woodiness. It is a very muted, quiet note that runs through the base, but it was noticeable in 2 of my 3 tests of Ultimate Seduction. It occasionally smells of cedar, but, most of the time, it’s merely an abstract dryness and woodiness. I wish it were a little stronger, to give Ultimate Seduction a bit more of an edge, but it sometimes it feels like a ghost, disappearing for a while before reappearing again in the background. Then again, I don’t think this is a perfume that is meant to have any “edges” at all.

Photo: my own.

The final, very long drydown phase begins roughly 3.5 hours into Ultimate Seduction’s development, and is all about the vanilla. The perfume is now primarily a vanilla scent, infused with fruitiness. The rose is now merely an abstract, amorphous floralacy, and it lurks at the edges alongside the equally abstract dry woodiness. Once in a blue moon, the black currant’s tartness is noticeable, but it’s generally too well-blended into the general “fruitiness.” The best part is really the vanilla note. I think it’s lovely because it’s not one of those traditional, very gooey, cloying, sweet vanillas. It really feels more like tonka, actually, which brings me to another point.

You may have noticed that I haven’t mentioned “pralines” once in this review, even though that is what is actually listed in Ultimate Seduction’s notes. For me, “pralines” have a very different aroma (and taste) than what I detect here. I associate the term with a more buttery, more caramel-like nuance. It’s nuttier and substantially sweeter than the note in Ultimate Seduction which smells instead like a really silky crème anglaise sauce mixed with abstract fruitiness. Ultimate Seduction is not a gourmand fragrance on my skin, thank God, and the notes are too carefully calibrated to be as sweet as the praline fragrances that I have tried in the past. Its primary characteristic at this point is petal-soft creaminess, more than anything either overt or sweet.

Source: popularscreensavers.com

Over time, the vanilla begins to change. At the start of the 5th hour, it turns drier, and there are the first hints of graininess. It’s not powdery, but more like grainy tonka texture, if that makes any sense. For the most part, though, it’s still extremely creamy, soft, and smooth at this point.

For the many, many hours which follow, Ultimate Seduction is all about the tonka, lightly flecked by fluctuating, increasingly insignificant amounts of abstract fruitiness. Sometimes, the cassis returns to peek out, while at other times it is the orange (which takes on a rather neroli-like aspect). Once in a blue moon, the woody cedar shows up. Generally, though, Ultimate Seduction is merely a soft tonka scent with a slightly grainy, occasionally powdered texture that has only the smallest strands of abstract fruits.

Ultimate Seduction lasted just under 14 hours in most of my tests of the fragrance. In its final moments, it was only a smear of soft sweetness. For the majority of its life, Ultimate Seduction was primarily an intimate, discrete scent on my skin, but it was still easy to detect up close until the start of the 9th hour. After that point, however, I had to make some concerted effort to find it, by putting my nose actually on my skin and sniffing hard. Yet, I was surprised to see that the most minute traces of the scent lingered on tenaciously each time I wore the fragrance. On one of the occasions when I used 3 sprays — and I was using an actual bottle, not an atomizer — I was rather shocked to smell Ultimate Seduction 16th hours later. It took effort and concentration, but there is no doubt the perfume was still there. And my skin eats perfume much faster than the average person.

Source: LM Parfums.

The longevity stems from the fact that Ultimate Seduction is one of the LM Parfums’ handful of pure parfums, and thus comes with a high concentration of fragrance oils. Ultimate Seduction shares the same pricing structure as some of its other siblings from the Extrait line, like Sensual Orchid or Chemise Blanche. It costs €195 or $225 for 100 ml of concentrated perfume. The perfume was released in Europe a few weeks ago, so it’s already available for purchase there. For American buyers, Osswald should be getting it in a few weeks.

Ultimate Seduction is not my personal style or genre, so it’s not a fragrance that I would ever have gotten for myself, but I enjoyed the times I wore it. It’s very approachable and easy-going, and there is something incredibly appealing about its uncomplicated smoothness. Its superior quality is what I think makes it stand out amongst others in the same genre.

I think Ultimate Seduction will work for people who really enjoy very soft, discreet, fruity-florals. It’s not an edgy, complex, complicated, or revolutionary scent, but it is a very refined, smooth take on the genre. I think it’s infinitely better, more elegant, and more luxurious than, for example, Guerlain‘s badly named Chypre Fatal which is actually the furthest thing possible from a real chypre, and is instead another fruity, patchouli-rose scent with vanilla. There are big differences between the two fragrances — beyond just the fact that Chypre Fatal is dreadfully insipid, flaccid, boring, simplistic, and obnoxiously over-priced — but I’m talking about overall genres or general profiles.

In short, if sweet fruity-florals with a tangy opening and a soft, creamy finish are your thing, give Ultimate Seduction a sniff. At the same time, I have to add, if you’re really looking to seduce with an over-the-top, divaesque, truly sensual fragrance with even greater creamy smoothness and enormous lushness, then I urge you to give Sensual Orchid a chance as well. It was my very first exposure to the LM Parfums line, and I loved it from the start. I think it’s really stunning.

Disclosure: Ultimate Seduction was sent to me courtesy of LM Parfums. That did not impact this review. I do not do paid reviews, and my opinions are my own.

DETAILS:

Cost & Availability: As noted above, Ultimate Seduction is an extrait that comes in a 100 ml bottle for €195 or $225. In the U.S.: Osswald NY should get the perfume in a few weeks. You can check their LM Parfums page at that point to see if Ultimate Seduction has arrived in store. Outside the U.S.: Ultimate Seduction is currently available from several European vendors, with more to follow shortly. At this time, you can buy Ultimate Seduction directly from LM Parfums and Laurent Mazzone’s separate perfume retailer, Premiere Avenue, which currently has a 10% off code for the fragrance until May 20th, 2014. The same 10% discount also applies to the 5 ml decant sample of Ultimate Seduction which is normally priced at €19. In terms of other retailers, Ultimate Seduction is currently available at First in Fragrance (which is also selling a sample, though perhaps smaller in size), Paris’ Jovoy, and the Netherlands’ ParfuMaria. In the U.K., Harvey Nichols is the exclusive distributor of LM Parfums, but I don’t see Ultimate Seduction listed on their page at this time. The LM Parfums line is also available at Essenza Nobile, the Netherland’s Silks Cosmetics, and Italy’s Alla Violetta. In the Middle East, I found most of the LM Parfums line at the UAE’s Souq perfume site. It should also be sold at any Harvey Nichols in the area, as that is one of the LM Parfums’ distributors. For all other countries, you can find a vendor near you from Switzerland to Belgium, Spain, Lithuania, Russia, Romania, Croatia, Azerbaijan, and more, by using the LM Parfums Partner listing. Laurent Mazzone or LM Parfums fragrances are widely available throughout Europe. Samples: In the U.S., you can obtain a sample from Osswald, once the perfume arrives in their store. Their Sample Program is based on the price of the fragrance with a 3-order minimum and free domestic shipping. A sample of a fragrance in Ultimate Seduction’s price range ($200-$299) is $6 for a 2 ml spray vial. Outside the U.S., some of the sites listed above, like First in Fragrance, sell samples as well. ParfuMaria has quite an extensive sample program that you may want to look into.