État Libre d’Orange Dangerous Complicity

Source: Etat Libre website.

Source: Etat Libre website.

Dangerous Complicity from État Libre d’Orange is a fragrance that would be more aptly named “Generic Simplicity,” in my opinion. In my experience, the company’s edgy or provocative names (and marketing) rarely match the scent in question, and Dangerous Complicity is no different. It’s a shame, because the perfume’s notes looked pretty damn spectacular.

The original company description for the scent was all about Adam and Eve: “By eating the forbidden fruit, complicity took on another dimension, and became dangerous. They lost their innocence and their paradise. The door was opened to carnal energy, they were liberated from restrictions, and they could now create their own version of Eden. That forbidden fruit became a one-way ticket to Etat Libre d’Orange.” Press release are frequently over the top but, in this case, for this particular scent, I find the description not only ridiculous but absolutely laughable. If my eyes rolled back in my head any more, they would fall out.

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YSL Black Opium

Source: lookbooks.com

Source: lookbooks.com

This is nothing like Opium. Let’s get that point out of the way right from the start. Black Opium isn’t even in the same galaxy as the original, let alone a related flanker with strong olfactory kinship. Regardless of whether you loved the original Opium or hated it, the objective reality is that the fragrance was a masterpiece that changed the perfume landscape, ushering in the oriental genre like nothing else before it, and becoming the benchmark by which all subsequent orientals were measured. Black Opium is not a masterpiece. In my opinion, it doesn’t deserve to bear the “Opium” name even in a small way.

"Tattooed Salome," c.1876 by Gustave Moreau.

“Tattooed Salome,” c.1876 by Gustave Moreau.

This is an extremely difficult review for me to write. As I’ve said many times in the past, original vintage Opium is my Holy Grail, one of two fragrances that changed everything for me and made me the perfume lover that I am today. Luca Turin called it “The Spice King” in his Five Star Review, but I prefer a friend’s loving, adoring term, “The Bitch Goddess.” In my wholly biased, subjective view, there is nothing like 1970s or 1980s Opium. It is bottled magic that transcends a mere set of notes to become something else entirely. It is a roaring, spectacular, bold masterpiece that is the Sistine Chapel of Orientals, a warrior’s olfactory shield worthy of Joan of Arc and all of the Seven Veils for Salomé. Men should wear it, women should seduce with it. There is simply nothing like vintage Opium, in my opinion. Period. (Note: versions post-1992 or 1995 are not so special, while absolutely none of this applies to anything put out during L’Oreal’s reign of horrors at YSL from the late-2000s onwards.)

Source: feminorama.com

Source: feminorama.com

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Aftelier Perfumes Palimpsest: Walking on Sunshine

Source: upliftconsulting.com

Source: upliftconsulting.com

Some perfumes immediately transport me to a place in time. For Palimpsest, it is a summer’s walk in an orchard on the brightest of days. Sun-ripened fruits drizzled with honey hang heavy and low on trees, irresistible in their sweetness. There are lush peaches for as far as the eye can see, but a small portion of the orchard is devoted to yuzu grapefruits, while bright, banana-yellow ylang-ylang flowers grow further in the distance. One peach beckons to you, and you take a bite, its juices running down your chin, as a smear of animalic honey coats your lips. There is a subtle suggestion of golden flowers swirling in the warm air around you, along with tendrils of smoky woods, vanilla, and amber, but the overall feeling is that you’re walking in sunshine. That is the essence of Palimpsest, a fragrance released last week by the acclaimed doyenne of natural perfumery, Mandy Aftel of Aftelier Perfumes
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Favorite Florals: Listed by Flower

Source: designzzz.com

Source: designzzz.com

I’ve been thinking lately of the fragrances I enjoy within specific floral categories. It started, in part, because a friend of mine is slowly expanding beyond his comfort zone, and tipping his toe into a whole genre of fragrances that he had previously avoided. In general, though, I’m frequently asked, “what’s your favorite _____?” amongst the vast selection of rose, gardenia, orange blossom, and other florals out there. So, I thought I’d do a list, based primarily on one criteria: what I personally adore and reach for, own as a full bottle, or want to buy for myself. In several instances, however, I’ve included what I think is a good example of a fragrance within that floral genre, even if it doesn’t work for me personally.

Jasmine peacock created from jasmine flowers. Source: Hdwallpaperes.com

A peacock created from jasmine flowers. Source: Hdwallpaperes.com

As always, I have to emphasize that perfume reviewing is subjective and personal by its very nature, so winnowing fragrances down to a personal favorites list like this is even more so. A few other things to note: I’m not going to cover every possible category of floral (or else, this list would be endless), and, to the extent possible, I’m going to stick to soliflores (or fragrances centered predominantly around one flower). As a result, many scents that I love are omitted solely by virtue of being very mixed in focus. (For example, my beloved Alahine from Teo Cabanel; Puredistance‘s delicate Opardu; Amouage‘s stunning chypre-oriental hybrid, Fate Woman, or its Ubar, a larger-than-life, yellow and gold, 3D floriental powerhouse.) Also, I should emphasize that perfume lovers can be very fickle creatures. What I’ve listed is what comes to mind today, and it might not be the same next week or even next month.

Finally, because this is all so personal and subjective, there will be omissions from the list that might surprise people. For example, I simply do not think much of Portrait of a Lady or Carnal Flower, period. It is heresy, I know, but neither one impresses me, so I’m not including them in their respective categories of rose or tuberose. After all, this really is about what I like or think is good, right? Finally, the fragrances within each category are not ranked by order (so it mean nothing if a scent is put at #1 or #4), and I’ve also tried to avoid the vintage category wherever possible.

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