Amouage Journey (Woman)

Posted on May 7, 2014 by Kafkaesque

Source: bbs.hsw.cn

Amouage wants you to take a Journey through a delicate concert in three parts. It begins with all the musicians tuning their instruments, all the notes appearing simultaneously for a very brief moment in a wave of honeyed sweetness with osmanthus and dark leather. Then, Act I launches its long journey into a soft, very restrained, modest floral bouquet dominated largely by jasmine musk. Act II introduces the first real hints of darker, more complex notes in a bridge to the finale or Act III. It is there that the Journey finally arrives in the Orient with dark, slightly smoky leather and osmanthus covered with sticky balsamic resins and a touch of spice.

Journey Woman accompanies Journey Man as Amouage’s latest fragrances. They are both eau de parfums that will be released in June 2014. According to Christopher Chong, Amouage’s Creative Director, the perfumers who worked under his direction were Alberto Morillas and Pierre Negrin. I don’t know if the two gentlemen worked together on each fragrance, or if they each took one of the duo, but I shall assume it is the former for now.

Shanghai “Calender Girls,” vintage 1920s. Source: http://abovetheseafilm.tumblr.com/

The inspiration behind Journey Woman (or “Journey” as I shall sometimes call it) seems to have been Shanghai in the 1920s. There are no official press release descriptions for the fragrance as of yet, but Mr. Chong provided a little background in an interview with Glass Magazine earlier this year:

I’m drawing on my Chinese heritage and culture — I’m really inspired by the underground society of Shanghai in the 1920s. I’ve set myself the challenge to create the type of osmanthus that people haven’t smelt before, blended with white florals, vanilla, and leather.

Journey Woman. Source; Amouage Facebook page.

The official Amouage Facebook page describes Journey Woman as follows:

Floral, Fruity, Leather

Top: Apricot, Jasmine Tea, Osmanthus, Nutmeg, Cardamom

Heart: Jasmine Sambac, Mimosa, Honey, Cedarwood

Base: Pipe Tobacco, Saffron, Vanilla, Cypriol, Musk.

Journey Woman opens on my skin with honey, apricot, animalics and jasmine tea, followed by a quick burst of leather, a touch of abstract spices, and a whisper of dry cypriol that smells a bit oud-like. The latter is undoubtedly merely the result of my mental associations, as cypriol is often used as a base for oud fragrances. This opening with its plethora of nuanced notes is very short-lived on my skin, more akin to the brief moments before a concert starts when the musicians are tuning their instruments, and you hear a lot of notes at once. Some of the elements depart almost immediately, like the animalics and the tiny flicker of spices.

Source: picsfab.com

Within minutes, Act I of Journey Woman begins, as the honey softens into a rich honey-and-tea accord atop a base of slightly musky leather. The scent is also imbued with a delicate, very pale floralacy. It really smells like jasmine tea more than any actual flowers, per se. In fact, the floral aspect to the scent feels quite abstract and indistinct on my skin. So, too, is the fruited note which doesn’t really read as a distinct apricot note. Both elements feel more like muted, hazy suggestions amidst the sea of honey.

Jasmine Tea. Source: tea-terra.ru

The latter is not particularly sticky or overly sweet. Rather, it is more like a watery honey nectar or agave than a really thick, gooey note. One reason why the sweetness is kept in check is the flicker of a dry, reedy, slightly aromachemical parchment-like note from the cypriol. It adds a tiny, quiet, very subtle touch of dryness that keeps the honeyed jasmine tea accord from tipping into cloying territory. The whole thing sits above a very thin smear of something vaguely leathered, with occasional touches of woody dryness and the fading hint of abstract spices.

Osmanthus. Source: blog.proxisante.com

It takes about 10 minutes for the osmanthus to appear, but like everything else in Journey’s opening act, it is muted, restrained, and very indistinct. To the extent that the flower smells of apricots, it’s rather a delicate, pale aroma. More noticeable is the osmanthus’ tea-like facets which take on a subtle smokiness like black Lapsang Souchong. It mixes well with the green jasmine, and that rather nebulous, vague, nondescript blend of spices in the background. The whole thing is blanketed with a strong layer of honey in a mix that feels extremely demure.

In fact, much of Journey’s opening phase on my skin feels like as though it’s been carefully calibrated to be as restrained as possible. I can’t decide if Mr. Chong wanted some sort of slow build-up, much like a musical movement, or if he intentionally wanted to soften such heavy, strong, very oriental elements as honey, jasmine sambac, bitter nutmeg, and fiery saffron. I have to admit, I find it all very disappointing. I tested Journey on both arms, just to see if there would be a substantial variation, as there sometimes is with my non-testing arm. No, there was no dramatic difference.

Acacia mimosa. Source: cn.best-wallpaper.net

Journey continues to slowly shift. 30 minutes in, a lovely creamy softness starts to rise up from the base. It is warm, smooth, and very golden in feel. There is a light touch of powderiness, as if the mimosa’s yellow pollen had been sprinkled over everything, but the flower itself doesn’t appear on my skin. The leatheriness in the base softens further, but it is really more like an undercurrent of textural darkness than actual leather. It is very subtle, as is the cypriol’s oud-like touch which grows increasingly muted. For the most part, Journey Woman is a very honeyed fragrance with largely abstract fruity and floral notes, flecked very lightly by muted, muffled touches of black tea, “leather,” and vaguely woody dryness.

The creaminess grows stronger and stronger with every passing moment, and it is the nicest part of Journey’s first act. 45 minutes into the perfume’s development, it merges fully with the honey and the abstract fruity florals, turning into a smooth, very creamy sweetness. There is a fluctuating level of “leather” in the base, and an occasional, fleeting touch of smokiness, but the more noticeable event is the growing prominence of the jasmine.

Source: ebay.com

At the 90-minute mark, the jasmine sambac fully takes over, turning Journey Woman into a scent that is primarily creamy jasmine musk. The fruity nuance feel even more abstract, amorphous and muffled, the “leathered” base ebbs away for the most part, and the honey steps into the shadows. Journey Woman is a very soft, slightly sheer fragrance with only the creamy texture giving it any weight. The sillage hovers an inch above the skin, and it all feels incredibly proper.

For the next 5 hours or so, Journey Woman is, by and large, primarily a simple, creamy, jasmine woody musk on my skin. The tea — both Jasmine green and Lapsang black — fades away entirely by the end of the 2nd hour. The “leather,” honey and the abstract hint of woodiness pop up only once in a while in the background, then flit away, before occasionally reappearing in a very minimalistic way. Meanwhile, the fruity note continues to be abstract, doesn’t translate as “apricot,” and is so muted that it often seems like it’s about to vanish away entirely. What I’m left with for hours and hour is a very generic, nondescript but refined, smooth jasmine musk with creaminess.

Source: popularscreensavers.com

The overall effect reminds me of a Kilian fragrance in its polished, easy, refined smoothness, but also, in its uncomplicated simpleness. And this is where I have some serious problems. Journey Woman’s opening act doesn’t have the characteristic Amouage signature of very opulent, complex, heavy boldness with endless layers, twists, and turns. It doesn’t even feel particularly oriental in nature. It’s more like a very abstract scent, a creamy fruity-floral with woody musk aspects and some nebulous suggestions of other things once in a blue moon.

“Sweet osmanthus, Chrysanthemum and Birds” by Lue Ji, Ming Dynasty. Source: paintingschinese.com

It’s pretty in its smooth, polished refinement, but it simply doesn’t feel like an Amouage scent. If you gave me a blind smell test, never in a million years would I ever suspect that what I was smelling in Journey’s first six hours was created by Amouage. I would think it was possibly a Chanel Exclusif, one of Kilian‘s smoothly simplistic Asian fragrances, or a new member of the largely unremarkable Tom Ford‘s Atelier d’Orient collection. Journey’s restraint, light airiness, and lack of heft are only a small part of the reasons why.

The main reason is that Journey Woman on my skin is incredibly safe and nondescript. It could easily be a creamier, fractionally deeper, minutely richer cousin to Chanel‘s 1932, only without the latter’s “bathtastic” aldehydes. They don’t smell the same, but the overall vibe and restraint are very similar. There is none of the boldness, richness, heavy opulence, spiciness and, more importantly, complex intensity that I associate with Amouage fragrances like the two Jubilations, Interlude Man, Fate Woman, Ubar, Epic Woman, or the like. (For what it’s worth, I thought the new Journey Man felt like a full-born Amouage from the start with a simply spectacular, stunning opening.)

For me, Journey Woman is a very approachable, easy, very light affair that feels like a church mouse librarian in a family of powerful divas and sheikhs, albeit a church mouse dressed in high-quality designer clothes. I have to admit, I found myself completely bewildered at times at the scent wafting off my skin. Then, I remembered Beloved Man which had a similar creaminess on my skin in a refined, pretty bouquet that was simultaneously rather nondescript and very un-Amouage-like in its simplicity. The full set of notes may differ, but the restrained vibe, lack of complexity, and creaminess are similar. So, perhaps Journey Woman isn’t a complete anomaly. Then again, Beloved Man has received a rather polarized reception for reasons similar to what I feel about Journey Woman, so perhaps that says something as well.

For any other brand, being compared to a Chanel Exclusif or Kilian wouldn’t be a bad thing. Yet, for me, Amouage is one of my favorite perfume houses precisely because it isn’t like those brands — neither of which are particular favorites of mine. (Chanel’s magnificent Coromandel excepted.) Amouage has a very different identity and aesthetic in my mind, so the disconnect that I feel for a good 6 hours with Journey Woman is difficult for me. (Even more so when I compare it to Journey Man’s superb, intoxicating opening.)

Painting: Ju Lian (1828-1904). Source: arts.cultural-china.com/

None of this is to say that Journey Woman is a bad fragrance. It’s not. In fact, I think women who are looking for a deeper, semi-oriental cousin to Chanel’s 1932, only with touches of nebulous “fruitiness” and “leather” instead of aldehydes, will probably adore Journey Woman. Same with anyone who enjoyed the light, airy floral orientals in Tom Ford‘s Atelier d’Orient Collection like Shanghai Lily and Fleur de Chine.

Like 1932, Journey Woman is completely unchallenging, uncomplicated, and easy in its polished simplicity. However, I was bored and unimpressed with Chanel’s 1932 for many of those precise reasons, not to mention its bland facelessness. I’m one of those people who needs more in a fragrance than mere refinement, especially when they are restrained, light floral musks. I don’t think elegant smoothness is the same as actual character, and I struggle when it comes with a certain price point. It is even harder for me when it comes from a perfume house whose fragrances I deeply respect and generally consider to be brilliant, innovative, opulent, complex, and distinctive. Like Amouage.

Painting by Moon Beom via lostateminor.com

Journey Woman is saved for me by its genuinely lovely drydown. It appears after a brief bridge phase (or Act II) where the perfume transitions by taking parts of Act I and merging them with growing elements of oriental darkness that will be at the heart of the dénouement in Act III.

The second act slowly begins at the start of the 6th hour, when a resinous, almost balsamic streak first stirs in Journey’s base. The creamy jasmine musk takes on a goldenness that feels almost ambered, as if some labdanum and a touch of smoky styrax had been used. Tiny touches of osmanthus and honey return to the scene, while the leather in the base grows stronger. Next to it are the first suggestions of something tobacco’d, though it’s subtle and muted.

Slowly, very slowly, Journey Woman changes, until suddenly it turns into a very different fragrance at the start of the 9th hour. Now, Act III begins, and the perfume feels like what I had expected Journey to be at the start. The osmanthus bursts in, taking over, and tossing the jasmine to the side completely. To my surprise, the honey reappears. At the same time, the leather is out in full force, and the osmanthus wafts both its delicate floralacy and its more fruited, apricot characteristics. Subtle touches of smokiness weave in and out, though I can’t figure out whether they stem from the tobacco or from something else. To me, it resembles styrax in all its sticky, chewy, dense, and smoky darkness.

Source: free wallpapers at antemortemarts.com.

Journey Woman is now a very honeyed, lightly fruited, leathery osmanthus scent atop a darkly resinous base and cocooned in a soft golden warmth. Sometimes, the fruitiness feels more like an abstract, nebulous suggestion; on other occasions, there is a definite whiff of actual apricots in the mix. At the same time, the osmanthus emits tiny flickers of black Lapsang Souchong tea again. Equally tiny touches of spiciness are mixed into the rich bouquet, though they are generally muted, amorphous, and never read as “saffron” or “nutmeg” to my nose. Much more prominent, however, is the tobacco that lurks in base. It feels more dense and chewy than the more delicate pipe variety mentioned in the notes, and adds to Journey’s new oriental darkness and depth. The whole thing is finished off by a light coating of honey.

Act III feels like we’ve come full circle from Journey’s opening moments, and is much more of what I expected from the fragrance’s notes. It’s a sultry bouquet whose light touches of smokiness, leathery resins, and tobacco work wonderfully to transform the osmanthus away from its usual delicate floralacy and fruitiness. The only shame is that, at this point, Journey is a skin scent on me so I can’t enjoy its new richness unless I have my nose on my skin.

Photo: my own.

Journey Woman continues in this vein for several more hours, until it finally fades away in a blur of honeyed sweetness with a touch of something vaguely resembling osmanthus. All in all, Journey Woman lasted just under 14.5 hours on my perfume-consuming skin with the equivalent of 2 sprays from an actual bottle, and 12.75 hours with the equivalent of one.

The sillage was moderate at first, wafting about 3 inches above the skin with the larger dose, but the perfume felt very airy and light. Journey Woman gained a little more body and richness when the creaminess arrived, but the sillage generally hovered a modest inch above the skin at the start of the 3rd hour. It turned into a skin scent on me 4.5 hours in. As a whole, I would categorize Journey Woman as rather light, though tenacious in longevity. It is not one of Amouage’s powerhouse scents.

As you may have gathered by now, I was disappointed in Journey Woman. Perhaps my expectations were too high after reading all the rich notes listed in the description, many of which are favorites of mine. I had thought Journey Woman would be a bold, spicy, dark, oriental sibling to the fantastic Fate Woman or to the mesmerizing, complex Jubilation 25, but it’s more of its own creature with a simpler, quieter style. It doesn’t feel like an Amouage to me (except in terms of its quality and smoothness), but my reaction is ultimately one of subjective interpretations and tastes.

I think women who like florals with restrained, refined simplicity and uncomplicated easiness will appreciate Journey Woman. So will anyone who likes creamy jasmine musks that eventually turn into something more oriental, leathery and dark. If you enjoyed some of the florals in Tom Ford’s Atelier d’Orient collection, you should definitely give Journey Woman a sniff.

Disclosure: My sample of Journey Woman was courtesy of Christopher Chong and Amouage. That did not influence this review, I do not do paid reviews, and my opinions are my own.

DETAILS:

Cost & Availability: Journey Woman is an eau de parfum that should be available in June in most parts of the world. I don’t know its price, but it will be offered in a 50 ml bottle as well as 100 ml. All the usual Amouage retailers should carry the fragrance, including Luckyscent, Osswald, MinNewYork, Parfums Raffy, First in Fragrance, Jovoy, Harrods, and the like. I will try to remember to update this section at that time. Samples: Surrender to Chance just received Journey Woman in store on June 16th. Samples start at $3.99 for a 1/2 ml vial.

Reviews En Bref: Tola Misqaal & Masha

Posted on May 3, 2014 by Kafkaesque

Dhaher bin Daher of Tola. Source; Fragrantica.

Tola (sometimes written as “Tola Perfume“) is a new fragrance house from Dubai. It was founded in 2013 by Dhaher bin Dhaher, who is also the nose behind its creations. He is a self-taught perfumer who grew up around perfumes, and whose story is told in a detailed Fragrantica article about the line. The house’s name, “tola,” refers to an ancient Indian measurement unit which predates the metric system.

Tola’s line is centered around The Voyage Collection, which is comprised of six fragrances, each of which is available either in eau de parfum or pure parfum concentration. The fragrances have been available in Europe for a while, but only recently came to Luckyscent and Osswald in America. Today, I’ll look at Misqaal and Masha, both in eau de parfum form.

MISQAAL:

Misqaal. Source: Luckyscent.

The company’s description of Misqaal on various perfume sites reads as follows:

Misqaal eau de parfum is a fragrance for the enigmatic woman…At the crossroads of Europe and Asia, an artisan puts the finishing touches on his masterpiece: a perfume for her royal highness, an enigmatic woman who exudes equal amounts of charm and femininity with just a hint of danger. To retain the scent’s exceptionality, the artisan produces only one Misqaal (an ancient unit of measure reserved for gold and expensive spices), and this becomes the most coveted object in the palace…Misqaal was crafted by modern day artisans to recreate the essence of the fabled princess in this tale from the Orient.

Top notes: pineapple, plum, raspberry, grapefruit, mandarin orange, bergamot, lemon, pink pepper, nutmeg, star anise, coriander, honey and fir;
Middle notes: juniper, cinnamon, wormwood, geranium, heliotrope, lily-of-the-valley, jasmine, rose, orris, french orange flower and orchid;
Base notes: vetiver, sandalwood, patchouli, agarwood (oud), cypriol oil or nagarmotha, incense, labdanum, siam benzoin, tonka bean, vanilla, white musk, castoreum, leather and ambergris.

Source: Wallpaperscraft.com

I’ll be blunt: Misqaal traumatized me. I felt as if I’d been knocked over by a gigantic tank, squashing me under heavy treads of sweetness and fruity excess. I love rich heavy perfumes, but they need a refined touch, not a heavy hand that throws the kitchen sink at you. And, in case the long list of notes did not make it clear, the kitchen sink seems to be very much a part of the Tola DNA.

Misqaal on my skin was primarily a massive, heavy, unchanging, indiscriminate ooze of cloying, fruited sweetness. The first night I tried it, tiny spritzes equal to 2 small sprays from a proper bottle gave me actual stomach-churning nausea. At one point, I even hid my arm under my pillow in order to escape from the scent, hoping desperately that time would ameliorate the situation. Alas, there was no refuge, not for many hours. I was hit by wave after wave of heavy-handed, potent, super-charged excess, pulsating like a weapon at me. Even through the bloody pillow, it seemed. There are no words to describe the degree of my queasiness and dread.

Source: superbwallpapers.com

Misqaal’s opening bouquet assailed me with what seemed to be 40% of that massive note list, all at once, and all at super concentrated levels. In reality, it was primarily just shrill, shrieking orange blossom, sticky orange, heavy honey, and a synthetic, sharp, thin oud. It was hard to distinguish some of Misqaal’s layers because this is not a fragrance with nuance or subtlety. If I focused hard, I could just about pick out tiny hints of lily of the valley, jasmine, rose, raspberry and hints of sandalwood amplified with spices and incense. There was a suggestion of powderiness from tonka and heliotrope, but they were largely overwhelmed by the torrent of honeyed stickiness.

Orange blossoms via the Pattersonfoundation.org.

In any event, the muted, minimal nuances soon disappear, leaving a cloying ball of opaque, dense, painfully sweetened goo centered primarily on orange blossom, honey, orange and that synthetic oud. Misqaal remained that way for hours, turning into a skin scent after 6.5 hours with 3 tiny sprays from my atomizer, and after 4 hours with 2 small spritzes.

The amber rises to the surface at the start of the 4th hour, and the perfume turns more abstract. Misqaal is now an overly sweet, slightly synthetic fruity floral with ambered warmth, sticky honey, and vanilla. There is a custardy richness which becomes more apparent as time passes, but it’s genuinely difficult for me to smell Misqaal up close for too long lest my stomach turn. In its final moments, Misqaal is blur of fruity floral sweetness with vanilla and amber. All in all, it lasted roughly 14 hours.

Misqaal is linear, dense, cloying and heavy-handed, in my opinion. Middle Eastern fragrances are frequently very sweet, but excessive honeyed syrupness is not my only problem with the scent. I find it to lack finesse and elegance. However, people who love gourmand fruity-florals may enjoy it, particularly if they love both sticky oranges and orange blossoms.

MASHA:

Masha. Source: Luckyscent.

The company’s description of Masha on various perfume sites reads as follows:

Masha eau de parfum with its sensual allure, embodies feminine charisma… Complex, worldly intensely feminine. These words form the common thread that binds his poems togerther. She is a complete mystery and yet she dwells within his deepest thoughts. If he could weigh all he knows of her, it would be one Masha; a small unit reserved for measuring the most rare and precious things. Yet he yearns to know more, to know everything. Masha combines warm woody notes with the intriguing allure of chypre and the femininity of luxurious flowers to capture the very essence of the modern woman.

Top notes: peach, pineapple, plum, strawberry, raspberry, apple, grapefruit, orange, lemon, bergamot, lime, pink pepper, black pepper and birch;
Middle notes: artemisia, coffee, cardamom, cinnamon, clove, lily-of-the-valley, rose, orris, jasmine and magnolia;
Base notes: leather, agarwood (oud), vetiver, sandalwood, patchouli, cedar, olibanum, labdanum, civet, castoreum, tonka bean and vanilla.

I found Masha to be a little better than Misqaal, though it’s all relative. At least Masha didn’t push me to hide my arm under a thick pillow at one point. The fact that Masha isn’t loathsomely sweet is primarily the reason why, and not much else.

Source: 123rf.com

Masha presented a different set of difficulties. The perfume has 36 notes, and it felt as though at least 23 of them hit me at once. Oddly, one of the main things I smelled is not actually on the list: immortelle. For whatever reason, some combination of the notes recreated the smell of immortelle, but not its more pleasant aspect. Instead, I was hit with curry, banana leaf, and a touch of maple syrup-like sweetness. It was followed by a synthetic oud, a hefty amount of cardamom, then cloves, patchouli, incense, spices, pepper, abstract mixed fruits, herbal artemisia with a dill-like aroma, roses, hints of plum, vanilla, vetiver, fresh apple, and coffee. No, I’m not joking. Misqaal throws everything at you at once, then follows it up with several plates of food from an Indian restaurant as well.

Source: wallpaperswide.com

I’m a bit of a masochist, so I actually tested Masha twice. Interestingly, at a higher dose, there was a significantly greater amount of apple and coffee. Alas, the banana leaf curry reappeared yet again. This time, however, there were fewer fruits, less cloves, very little patchouli, no dill, no vetiver, and no rose. The primary focus in both versions however is the spices.

Source: atyabtabkha.3a2ilati.com

At the end of 3 hours, Masha consistently turns into a curried immortelle scent infused with synthetic oud, labdanum, amber, and cardamom. The apple and coffee are much more subtle now, thank God. Stirring in the base is a slightly powdered note, and a soft, ambered warmth that increasingly takes on a caramel tonality. I cannot tell you the oddness of smelling like Indian curry with bright green apples, coffee, and caramel. It is only Masha’s vague dryness that prevented my stomach from turning.

Photo: Mike Wepplo at mikewepplo.com

Masha turns into a skin scent on me at the start of the 4th hour with 2 spritzes from my atomizer. It is a blur of spices, curried notes, synthetic oud, amber with caramel tonalities, abstract dry woodiness, and a touch of pepperiness. It takes on a vague aura of clean freshness from the musk, which merely adds to the disconcerting nature of the bouquet.

I’ll be honest, I wasn’t inspired to smell Masha with great frequency and depth. My normal practice is to take stock of a perfume’s development every 30 minutes after the midway point, if not more often. With Masha, not only was I unenthused to do so, but nothing in the first 5 hours gave any indication that the perfume was shifting or changing radically. Whenever I did smell it, Masha continued to be the same linear bouquet with only fluctuating levels of curried tonalities and small shifts in the ambered base.

By the start of the 9th hour, Masha was merely a blur of spiced, ambered woodiness, with dryness, sweetness, and a touch of grainy powderiness. The curried banana leaf-like accord was the most noticeably distinct, individual element, but, eventually, even that faded away. In its final moments, Masha was a whisper of vaguely woody, spiced amber. All in all, it consistently lasted over 12.5 hours.

ALL IN ALL:

For my Reviews en Bref, I don’t give comparative assessments from other bloggers or sites, but I’ll point you to the Fragrantica piece on the Tola line if you’re interested. It has one chap’s short take on each of the fragrances, including Misqaal or Masha.

Needless to say, I was not enthused. My experiences with the two fragrances can essentially be summarized as “traumatizing,” and “not traumatic, but very far from enjoyable.” I can see why someone who loves intensely concentrated, dense, fruity-florals with sweetness might possibly like Misqaal, but Masha is a mish-mash of too many discordant things.

In a way, that almost makes it worse. At least Misqaal can be seen as a rich, dense, honeyed orange blossom scent, even if the richness goes far into “suffocating” and “nausea” territory. Misha, however… Misha leaves me almost at a loss for words in terms of its notes. It is a lack of finesse of a completely different kind. There is almost a giddiness at how the numerous — and frequently discordant — elements are all tossed together, willy nilly, as if to see how many unusual things can be mixed together in one heavily spiced concoction.

I’m quite familiar with Middle Eastern perfumery, and have lived in the region myself in my travels, so that’s not the problem. It’s not as though Middle Eastern perfumery is foreign to me, and I “don’t get it.” No, I simply don’t think that really good Middle Eastern fragrances are such an unrestrained hodge-podge or so wildly unbalanced. In the case of Misha and Misqaal, they may feel rich due to their denseness and heaviness, but their actual bouquet isn’t at all refined. And, for $285 or €225 for a tiny 45 ml bottle, they should be.

I have samples of all six Tola fragrances, but this initial foray hasn’t inspired much confidence in me to pursue them with great urgency. Judging by Fragrantica’s overall Tola page, and looking at the remaining fragrances individually, several seem to be “fruity florals,” which is not exactly my favorite category of fragrances in the world. And they all have a huge laundry list of notes beginning with a lot of fruit, just like Masha and Misqaal. I confess to now feeling great dread at the look of them, whereas once there was enormous excitement at the line. So, if there is one that you’re particularly interested in, let me know and I’ll try to cover it sooner rather than later. Otherwise, it may indeed be “later.”

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

DETAILS:

Cost & Availability: Misqaal and Misha are both eau de parfums. They come only in a 45 ml bottle that costs $285, €225, or £198. Extrait versions are available, though not on most Western retail sites. In the U.S.: Tola fragrances are available at Luckyscent and Osswald NY. Luckyscent used to have a sample discovery pack for the full line, but I no longer see it on their website. Outside the U.S.: Currently, the Tola website is under construction, and doesn’t have an e-store. In the U.K, Tola is available at Selfridges. In Paris, you can find the line at Nose. For the rest of Europe, you can turn to First in Fragrance which ships worldwide. In Dubai, Tola is available at Villa 515, Beach Road, or Le Jardin des Parfums, Abu Dhabi Mall. Samples: None of the U.S. sample sites currently carry this fragrance, but Luckyscent and Osswald NYC both sell samples at different prices.

Stéphane Humbert Lucas 777 Soleil de Jeddah

Posted on May 2, 2014 by Kafkaesque

A ball of orange, green and gold, dripping with exotic juices from an orchard before being swathed in Russian leather and amber. Soleil de Jeddah from Stéphane Humbert Lucas often feels as bright as the sun it was named after, but there is a slow eclipse as dark, slightly smoky leather casts its shadow over its bright heart.

Stéphane Humbert Lucas. Source: SHL 777 Facebook page.

Soleil de Jeddah is a 2013 parfum extrait from Stéphane Humbert Lucas 777 (hereinafter just referred to as “SHL 777” or “777“). All the fragrances are created by Monsieur Lucas, who used to be the in-house perfumer for SoOud and Nez à Nez. Up to now, the 777 line was exclusive to Europe, Russia, and Middle Eastern, but there is good news. The complete SHL 777 line should be coming to America in a few days, including the stunning amber monster, O Hira, that was previously contractually limited to Harrods and to Printemps, and the 2013 iris-amber-heliotrope Khol de Bahrein.

The new 2014 releases should also be available, such as the highly original cherry-latex-almond-cedar-oud Qom Chilom, the immortelle gourmand, Une Nuit à Doha, and the Cambodian oud, smoke and leather, Oud 777. The scents will be exclusive to Luckyscent and Osswald NYC. I have samples of the line, thanks to the generosity and kindness of Monsieur Lucas, and Soleil de Jeddah is the last in my series. (Rose de Petra was accidentally omitted from my package.)

As a side note, it is Monsieur Lucas who takes all the photos of the perfume bottles that I have shown in this series, and I think the one for Soleil de Jeddah may be one of the prettiest images that I’ve seen for a fragrance in a long time.

Source: SHL 777 Facebook page.

Soleil de Jeddah is a pure parfum with 24% perfume concentration that is described in the press materials provided to me as follows:

Source: Stéphane Humbert Lucas.

Bakelite of pulverized amber.
A fragrance both dignified and aphrodisiac.
Solar fragrance, luminous, bright, respectful reference to the holy city.

Lemon – Roman Chamomile – Osmanthus
Iris Root – Amber – Earthy Notes
Iris Butter – Russian Leather – Vanilla from Madagascar.

Regular readers will know by now that, as with other SHL 777 fragrances, the official list is merely a nutshell synopsis. I’ll spare you the details of my now routine (and very comedic) email exchanges with Monsieur Lucas, where I tell him all the other things I smell in the perfume and ask what is missing from his official list. Suffice it say, he is a very kind and patient man, and we’ve had a good laugh about my OCD obsession with details.

Mimosa. Source: Fragrantica

The actual note list for Soleil de Jeddah is incredibly long. These are just the main elements:

Osmanthus, Roman chamomile, Acacia mimosa (Fleur de Cassie), genet (Broom), lemon, mandarin, Sicilian bergamot, iris butter, iris concrete, jasmine, carnation, Indian patchouli, Russian leather (Isobutyl quinoleine and birch wood), oakmoss, civet, musk, styrax, labdanum amber, benzoin, and Madagascar vanilla.

Photo: House of Herrera, Caroline Herrera. Source: popsugar.com.au

Monsieur Lucas described Soleil de Jeddah to me as a perfume with a powerful citrus opening, followed by a strong floral heart, above a persistent, dark, intensely leathered base that is imbued with mousse de chene or oakmoss. He visualises it as a perfume that a woman would wear to a ball, with a long, flowing gown whose open back exposes sensual skin, all worn with a “panoply of jewels” and furs. I can see his vision and understand it, but, for me, Soleil de Jeddah is more akin to a glowing ball of yellow and orange centered on a massively concentrated citric and fruity heart, above a leathered base flecked with animalic civet.

Apricot. Source: forwallpaper.com

Soleil de Jeddah opens on my skin with juicy apricots that are tangy with jamminess, followed by very tart, sour, zesty lemon, then iris, more iris, a light dusting of iris powder, chamomile, and an odd woodiness. There are leather nuances and a touch of smokiness, but the overall impression is of brightness. (I wrote in my notes, “bright, bright, BRIGHT!”)

Osmanthus often smells of apricots, with a leathery undertone, but flower in Soleil de Jeddah is highly imbued with other fruits as well. The result is a mixed osmanthus note with a concentrated feel that I’ve never experienced before. It reminds me of Black Gemstone‘s dense, tangy lemon curd, only here, the citrus is accompanied by equally concentrated apricots and oranges as well. Just as in Black Gemstone, the fruits in Soleil de Jeddah have been heavily amplified by a jammy, purple patchouli, but the main sensation is of tartness, not syrupy sweetness. It is a saturated explosion of tangy zestiness that is fresh, crisp, heavy, sweet, and sour, all at once.

Green mango via alegriphotos.com

It also strongly reminded me of something else, and, for the longest time, I couldn’t place it. Initially, the overall effect made me think a little of a tart Jolly Rancher candy infused strongly with iris and a touch of chamomile. But that wasn’t really it. There was more going on. Then it came to me: the green tartness resembled a kiwi and pineapple mix, with perhaps a tiny touch of cassis or black currant. At least, the first time around. On two subsequent tests, the zingy, tart, tangy fruitiness consistently smelled like green mangoes. It is exactly like the very concentrated, potent, heady mix in Neela Vermeire‘s bright mango floriental, Bombay Bling. I tried them side-by-side at one point, and yes, I am wafting green mangoes. I cannot explain it at all.

Photo: My own.

In all my tests, however, the multi-faceted fruit accord is always cocooned in iris above a slightly leather base. The iris smells wet, rooty, woody, cool, and lightly powdered all at once. The leather base is dark, thick, and, initially, lightly smoked, with flecks of a dry woodiness that reminds me of tree bark.

Many fragrances attempt to recreate the impression of “leather” through other notes. As the Perfume Shrine explains, “[r]endering a leather note in perfumery is a challenge for the perfumer[,]” and that what is “actually used” to create that olfactory impression are vegetal or synthetic ingredients which can include birch tar, juniper cade, and quinoline. The Perfume Shrine adds:

isobutyl quinoline … possesses a fiercely potent odour profile described as earthy, rooty, and nutty, echoing certain facets of oakmoss and vetiver and blending very well with both. Isobutyl quinoline also has ambery, woody, tobacco-like undertones: a really rich aromachemical!

Source: quattraenergy.com

While some of that description applies to what I smell in Soleil de Jeddah, my nose seems to read the leather more as “birch tar,” probably because that is how I am used to “Russian leather” being replicated. The note here is very similar to the leather in Caron‘s Tabac Blond and Chanel‘s Cuir de Russie, but Monsieur Lucas said only a little birch was used in the fragrance and that the main elements in the base are smoky styrax resin and isobutyl quinoline. Still, on my skin, there was a definite streak of woodiness in one of my tests of Soleil de Jeddah that I interpreted as “birch” bark shavings.

Source: creativity103.com

It’s an unusual combination when taken as a whole. The iris with the tart, tangy fruits and chamomile stands out as it is, but I have to admit that the “birch” wood totally threw me the first time around. Its dry woodiness and smokiness feels a bit strange in conjunction with apricot-kiwi-pineapple (or mango). And, yet, somehow it works. On some levels, Soleil de Jeddah reminded me of a super concentrated, heavy, more powerful cousin to Creed‘s cult hit, Aventus. The fruits are completely different, but the tangy, juicy, citric, lightly smoked feel underscored by birch leather is the same. Soleil de Jeddah is more dense and complex though, with constant streaks of chamomile and iris.

Photo: My own.

Those last two notes are soon overshadowed as the leathered base grows smokier and more powerful. The iris consistently fades on my skin after 20 minutes, and is never replaced by the other floral notes on the list. Carnation? Not on me. Jasmine? Non plus. Mimosa? Only occasionally, in the background, and in the most muted way imaginable. For the most part, Soleil de Jeddah’s main bouquet on my skin is consistently some fluctuating mix of apricots, oranges, lemon curd, green mango/kiwi/pineapple, chamomile, and jammy patchouli, all over the smoky leather base made up of styrax, birch, and isobutyl quinoline.

Source: footage.shutterstock.com

It’s an intensely concentrated, deep, strong mix but there is a surprising weightlessness to it. Despite the richness of its notes, Soleil de Jeddah doesn’t feel opaque or dense, and the sillage is generally average on my skin. 2 large spritzes from my atomizer, amounting to one good spray from a proper bottle, gave me a soft cloud with 3 inches in projection at first. Using 3 spritzes expanded the radius by another inch. Yet, in both cases, the sillage dropped at the start of the 2nd hour, and Soleil de Jeddah lay 1-2 inches above the skin. It turned into a skin scent roughly 4.75 hours in, which is much less time than some of the other SHL 777 fragrances that I’ve tried. Still, for those first few hours, Soleil de Jeddah has good sillage, and feels particularly strong up close due to the saturated, rich nature of the notes.

In all my tests, Soleil de Jeddah starts to transition into its second phase at the end of the 3rd hour. A powdery vanilla arrives to diffuse both the smokiness of the styrax resin in the base and the tartness of the fruits up top. It casts a thin blanket over the notes, softening them through the lens of a dry vanilla. As in a few of the SHL 777 fragrances, the note is not so much powdered or sweet as grainy and sandy; it’s almost more textural at times than actual vanilla, if that makes any sense. Soleil de Jeddah is still sharp and rich up close, but it lacks the same degree of concentrated, thick juiciness in its fruits, and the woodiness has disappeared.

Source: thewallpaperr.blogspot.com

The leather remains, however. In the majority of my tests, the apricot-orange-mango accord takes a step back, letting the smoky Russian leather and vanilla slowly take over center stage. Tiny flickers of chamomile continue to lurk about, while the amber begins to stirs in the base. It doesn’t smell like ambergris (which is what First in Fragrance mistakenly lists it as), nor like labdanum. Rather, it is merely a soft, golden haze which adds warmth to the scent. The jammy, purple patchouli occasionally appears in its own right as an individually distinct note next to the apricot-orange-lemon-mango accord, but, generally, it melts into the fruits. Once in a blue moon, I think I may smell a brief pinch of mimosa in the powderiness, but it is probably the power of suggestion.

At the end of the 7th hour, Soleil de Jeddah is a blur of black Russian leather and abstract, tart fruits, all lightly powdered with vanilla and cocooned in a soft, golden warmth. There is a civet-like sharpness to the scent, along with a lingering touch of sweetness that made me wonder if there was honey in Soleil de Jeddah. Monsieur Lucas says there isn’t, but the sweetness has a definite animalic sharpness that seems to go beyond mere civet on my skin. Whatever the source of the note, Soleil de Jeddah’s leather has a touch of skanky dirtiness underlying it.

Photo: My own.

The leather eventually fades away, and Soleil de Jeddah’s final drydown on my skin consists of tart fruitiness with vanilla and civet. There are touches of jammy patchouli which occasionally pop up, but very little remains of the birch, isobutyl quinoline, or woodiness. There is no powder, and Soleil de Jeddah isn’t even really ambered any more, either.

In its final moments, the perfume is a mere blur of dry, semi-tart fruitiness with a touch of vanilla and some lingering sharpness from the civet. All in all, Soleil de Jeddah consistently lasted over 10 hours on my skin. With 2 spritzes, I thought it was about to die at the end of the 9th hour, but the perfume lingered on tenaciously for a total of 10.75 hours. With 3 spritzes, Soleil de Jeddah lasted just under 12 hours, really more like 11.75.

Painting by Moon Beom via lostateminor.com

I could not find any comparative reviews to show you how others see the scent. On Fragrantica, where Soleil de Jeddah is categorized as a “leather,” the perfume’s entry page has no comments at this time. However, one of my readers, “Lady Jane Grey,” owns the scent and shared her experiences in the comment section of another one of my SHL 777 reviews. There, she wrote about how Soleil de Jeddah was 2 perfumes in 1 on her skin, changing its character from one occasion to the next:

Jeddah smells differently worn on the same spot (left wrist) – when I tested at Harrods (mid afternoon) it was fruity and bright and happy, a spring scent entirely with a golden agarwood note in the back. Spritzed in the evening on the same spot the oud has that medical note, which in fact I quite like, because I find it calming. The scent is sweet and creamy..

Soleil de Jeddah has no oud, so I suspect the isobutyl quinoline and birch may be responsible for the woodiness that she is detecting.

Source: hdwalls.info

For another blogger, the charming Christos of Memory of Scent, a brief test of Soleil de Jeddah in Switzerland’s Theodora Parfumery was all about the bright fruits. His short synopsis reads:

777 Stéphane Hubert Lucas Soleil de Jeddah: high end, high price, Middle East oriented house. This however, 3 hours after being sparyed on a blotter, feels like it is dripping fruity juices, in the best possible way, coming from someone who doesn’t like fruity fragrances. And all this with a touch of leather and ambergris! Very interesting!

I don’t generally like fruity fragrances, either, but I share his view that Soleil de Jeddah is a very interesting take on it, thanks to the smoky Russian leather and the other accords.

While Soleil de Jeddah’s strong backbone of fruitiness isn’t my personal style, I think the perfume will be a hit for those who are looking for a more adult, polished, original take on fruity fragrances. Those who adore very bright, tangy, sunny orientals like Bombay Bling will enjoy the similar vibe here, while the inclusion of smoky leather, animalic civet, and soft ambered warmth should reassure those who aren’t into “fruit cocktails,” as one friend of mine calls the category. And, who knows, you may even be lucky enough to experience the plethora of floral elements included in the scent, though they never really appeared on my skin. Finally, if you’re a fan of Aventus‘ mix of tangy-sweet fruits with birch leather, you may very much enjoy the richer, more concentrated SHL 777 take on the theme, especially if the Creed perfume doesn’t last on your skin.

Soleil de Jeddah is priced in the middle of the SHL 777 range. In Europe, it costs €235 for a 50 ml bottle of pure parfum that has 24% concentration. I don’t have the official American pricing rate, but I believe Osswald will sell it for $309. So, it’s not at the high-end represented by the magnificent monster amber, O Hira, but it’s also not at the “cheap” level of the lovely iris-amber-heliotrope, Khol de Bahrein, or the gourmand immortelle-marmalade-tobacco, Une Nuit à Doha.

In short, if you’re looking for a leather fragrance with a twist, or if you enjoy bright, tangy fruits whose rich juices feel as though they’re dripping off the vine onto your skin, give Soleil de Jeddah a sniff.

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

Tauer Perfumes Eau d’Epices

Posted on March 31, 2014 by Kafkaesque

An ode to orange blossom, done the Tauer way: dusted with spices, smoked with frankincense, turned black and rubbery with elevated indoles, sweetened with candy, and infused with amber. That’s Eau d’Epices (sometimes called L’Eau d’Epices or No. 12 – L’Eau d’Épices) an eau de parfum from Tauer Perfumes.

Photo: Hypoluxe.

Eau d’Epices was originally released in 2010 and has just been re-released. I’ve sought specific clarification on the timeline of events, and whether the sample I received was from a new batch or formula. I’ve been repeatedly assured that it is not. According to Hypoluxe, Tauer’s American distributor, Andy Tauer created one batch of Eau d’Epices in 2010 which sold out by 2012. He held off on creating more to see how customers responded to the scent, and only recently decided to create more. So, again, the formula is said to be identical, and there should be no question of batch variations.

Orange Blossom. Photo: GardenPictures via Zuoda.net

The press release for Eau d’Epices describes the perfume as follows:

One of Tauer’s favorite naturals, orange blossoms absolute, plays a central role in this scent that is unique and original. Natural oils from spices orchestrate an opening that is vibrant, and warm. Red mandarin softens the spices and prepare for the orange blossoms that bloom in l’eau d’épices together with another white flower: Jasmin. Frankincense essential oil leads over to a classical Tauer base chord featuring ambergris, tonka, hints of vetiver and the woody warm perfume of cistus ladaniferus resin, resembling a walk in a pineta.

HEAD NOTES
An Indian basket of spices with cinnamon, cardamom, clove and corriander with red mandarines.
HEART NOTES
An opulent heart of orange blossom, jasmine, orris root and incense.
BODY NOTES
A woody cistus ladaniferus resin, softened with ambergris, tonka beans and vetiver.

I tested Eau d’Epices twice, using different quantities and experienced two very different opening phases. The perfume eventually ended up in the same place, but the focal point was quite different in each test, especially in the beginning.

VERSION ONE:

Smarties. Source: imgarcade.com

The first time, I used 2 small sprays from my atomizer, and the dominant aroma on my skin was candy sweets. Specifically, Sweet Tarts (or SweeTarts) and Smarties, with a touch of the exploding, fizzy Pop Rocks. All the candies have a very sweet aroma that is powdered. Here, however, the Sweet Tarts of Eau d’Epices’ start was also accompanied by a brief lemony touch from the coriander and a hint of red fruits (more like berries). Hot on their heels was jasmine, sticky orange, flickers of vetiver, a whisper of orange blossom, and dark spices, all on an amber base.

SweeTarts candies via Wikipedia.

The jasmine’s initial burst quickly receded, leaving a bouquet that was almost entirely Sweet Tarts with orange sherbet that had been dusted with cinnamon. There were tiny pinches of cardamom and cloves, but the cinnamon ruled them both on my skin. The orange blossom never really showed up as a floral note the way one normally encounters it, and the frankincense was barely perceptible. The whole thing was extremely sweet, but also playful and whimsical in a fun way.

Source: itsybitsyfoodies.com

For the first hour, the cinnamon orange sherbet and powdered Sweet Tarts ruled almost unimpeded by the other notes. Then, the spice bouquet became stronger, with the clove slowly creeping to the foreground. Much more significant was the vetiver which, on my skin, often manifests a minty freshness. It did so here with Eau d’Epices, too. As the vetiver swirled into the syrupy sweetness of the fruity sherbet, it felt almost candied in a way that was quite enjoyable.

About 2.5 hours in, Eau d’Epices starts to shift more dramatically. My skin often amplified or clings onto vetiver, and Eau d’Epices was no exception. The vetiver begins to take over the dominant position, trailed by the spice-dusted orange sherbet, the candied notes and the amber. The candy feels almost more like Cinnamon Red Hots now, instead of Sweet Tarts but there is still a powdered quality to the note. (It’s undoubtedly from the orris.) Slowly, slowly, the amber rises to the surface, and Eau d’Epices begins to turn into a scent that is labdanum amber with minty vetiver. The perfume feels simultaneously resinous, candied, sweet, and dusted with spices.

Photo: My own.

At the start of the 5th hour, Eau d’Epices is a highly blended scent that is largely dominated by the “Tauerade” signature base. That particular accord is quite identifiable, as it always features a darkly resinous amber which is simultaneously somewhat woody, sharp, smoky, and sweet.

Here, it is infused with vetiver and cinnamon candies. Again, my skin has a tendency to bring out vetiver to an unusual degree, and to cling onto it like mad, especially if it is Haitian vetiver with its minty undertones. You may not necessarily experience the same thing. At Eau d’Epices’ edges are lingering whispers of orange sherbet, but they fade away entirely as the hours pass. By the end of the 7th hour, Eau d’Epices is a whisper of resinous Tauerade with vetiver and a light sprinkling of tonka powder. In its final moments, the perfume is merely a blur of Tauerade amber.

All in all, Eau d’Epices lasted just short of 10.75 hours on me during the first test with 2 small sprays from my atomizer. The perfume was always incredibly concentrated in feel and potent, especially up close. Eau d’Epices only turned into a skin scent on me at the start of the 4th hour, but it was still easily detectable without much effort until the 8th hour.

VERSION TWO:

Photo: My own.

The second time I tested Eau d’Epices, I applied 4 sprays from my atomizer, amounting to 2 proper sprays from an actual bottle. The result was something that I think was much more true to what Eau d’Epices is meant to be, as it was a scent that was fully dominated by orange blossoms.

My second test of Eau d’Epices opened with orange blossoms and orange, followed by sticky resins, loads of cinnamon, sweetened powder, and hints of both cloves and lemony coriander. The perfume again smelled of Sweet Tarts and candy, but the orange blossom was only inches away this time and soon took over completely. It was very sharp, fresh, and indolic with a blackened heart of sticky resins and smoky leather. Frankincense swirled all around, and it too had a sharp bite that contrasted quite deeply with the candied feel.

This version of Eau d’Epices was powerfully indolic. Indoles are put out by white flowers like orange blossom as a signal to bees and, in their most undiluted form, can smell either rubbery, mentholated, fecal, a little urinous, plasticky, or like mothballs. Here, with Eau d’Epices, the indoles smell exactly like mothballs — something I’ve only experienced once before with a scent that used a lot of absolutes and that barely diluted the indolic element. At the same time, there is a very mentholated tonality to Eau d’Epices that almost fizzes. Something about the perfume’s opening feels as if actual menthol was used in the way that it was with YSL‘s vintage Champagne (Yvresse), though the fizziness here tickles the nose far more than in that fruity floriental.

Source: Forwallpaper.com

Eau d’Epices shifts after 5 minutes. Hints of jasmine appear, weaving throughout the top notes and adding even more sweetness to the bouquet. The cloves and cinnamon grow stronger, while the coriander and cardamom retreat to the sidelines. As a whole, the spices feel much less dominant in this version of Eau d’Epices, while the florals and frankincense are significantly more powerful. The impression of orange sherbet and Sweet Tarts is significantly less prominent this time around, as well.

Photo: Huffington post

As a whole, Eau d’Epices is a very sharp, smoky, blackened, candied and syrupy floral bouquet dominated by orange blossom. It is thoroughly infused by mothball-like indoles on the top, with smoky, rubbery, almost leathered, smoky nuances underneath. The smokiness is further amplified by the sharp frankincense, and then the whole thing is dusted with cloves and cinnamon. It’s a powerful, massive bouquet that initially projects 5-6 inches with the 4 atomizer sprays.

Eau d’Epices changes over the next few hours, but only incrementally. The vetiver becomes prominent at the end of the first hour, weaving its way throughout the orange blossom. The latter is so rich, it feels almost boozy at times. At the start of the second hour, Eau d’Epices turns noticeably warmer and deeper, as the amber slowly begins to rise from the base. The flowers lose that menthol fizziness, though much of their indolic blackness remains. As a whole, Eau d’Epices is more powerfully floral, with only a little sweet sherbet; the spices seem stronger; and the perfume feels more golden in hue.

By the end of the 4th hour, Eau d’Epices is a bouquet of vetiver and indolic, mentholated orange blossom, followed by sharp incense, sweet jasmine, hints of sweetened candy powder, and cinnamon over a sticky, woody amber base. The perfume feels sharp and rough, but also soft, and it hovers an inch above the skin.

Eau d’Epices’ core bouquet remains unchanged for hours and hours, shifting only in the prominence and order of its notes. The jasmine retreats to the sidelines; the spices turn nebulous and abstract; the frankincense feels stronger; and the vetiver takes over center stage with the orange blossom. The sharp, woody, smoky, Tauerade ambered base looks on from the wings, but it joins the two leading players at the end of the 8th hour. Eau d’Epices turns into a simple triptych of orange blossom, vetiver, and Tauerade.

Photo by Jianwei Yang, I think. Source: bhwords.com

It remains that way for hours, merely growing more nebulous and abstract, until it fades away entirely in a blur of woody-smoked-amber lightly flecked with vetiver. All in all, Eau d’Epices lasted 14.5 hours with the equivalent of 2 proper sprays from a bottle. As a side note, that quantity of Eau d’Epices created a bouquet that was so concentrated and strong, it was almost too much so for me — and I love potent scents. So you may want to go easy on the application.

ALL IN ALL:

I’ve read in a few places that Eau d’Epices is supposed to be a “love it/hate it” scent, but I don’t feel either emotion. I don’t like it, but I certainly don’t hate it. I simply got tired of Eau d’Epices’ indolic bombast and overall untrammelled intensity. I blame my own skin for much of that, as it always amplifies base notes. (It also seems to take vetiver to ridiculous extremes.)

Photo: My own.

For the most part, though, Eau d’Epices simply perplexes me. It’s really not what I expected. Given the name and the description of the notes, I had expected “a spice basket,” but ended up instead with Sweet Tarts and orange sherbet, or with mothball orange blossoms, sharp incense and minty vetiver. I really dislike the mothball aspect of the indoles, and that turned out to be my greatest issue, along with Eau d’Epices’ overall sharpness. Even the Tauerade base to both versions felt too sharp and raw for me, unlike that which I’ve experienced in other Tauer orientals. Jeffrey Dame of Hypoluxe tried to tell me that the sample I received had been freshly prepared 30 days ago, so the perfume may not have settled and continued to be very fresh. Perhaps.

On Fragrantica, reviews are mixed for Eau d’Epices. I was interested to read the most recent review from just a few days ago which says that the perfume smells “rough”:

Amouage Reflection Man meets Mrs. Dash. I’d say it’s a match made in Heaven, but it smells rough.

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

I have to agree, but another chap wrote a veritable paean to Eau d’Epices just a week before with which I also agree to some extent:

One of the most-brilliant compositions I have ever smelt! Definitely orange-blossom dominates (with a hint of tuberose?), but it is bent and molded into something quite-different and unexpected with an overlay of spices (Ceylon cinnamon is, to my nose, strongest, followed by cloves, and then coriander seed), while the lower, “wood-like” facets of the flower’s essential oil are entwined like loving roots into vetiver and frankincense- it is hard to find where orange-blossom begins and ends, it is that well-married… I also sense a hint of linden-blossom bonding quite well with the “green-grassiness” of vetiver, expanding, diluting the sweet nature of the white-floral heart.

The effect is striking, with a definite character of its own. It reminds me a little of ‘Poeme’, but is not so “round and soft”: there is a “masculine”, assertive edge to Eau d’Epices- despite it’s strong floral character- which makes it, in my opinion, fairly unisex… and, also, quite oriental. Anyone with a modest attar-collection would probably not be shocked so much by this fragrance, but I can see many women of mainstream-western taste being put off by the rich, resin-backed spiciness, and just as many men being put off by the bold use of a sweet white floral. It toys with gender. It is not a crowd-pleaser by any means; it retains its unapologetic integrity throughout its long evaporation, and could be a strong, unmistakeable signature for a self-assured person.

I think he’s right a lot of points, even if we feel differently about the overall effect. The orange blossom is indeed well-married and thoroughly blended into all the other notes, and Eau d’Epices is an unapologetically dark, spicy, very unisex blend that may appeal to those who love very concentrated fragrances.

For one woman on Fragrantica, the dark, resinous base was not the problem so much as the spices:

It sprayed on with promise, a number of sharp notes appeared initially and then it dried down to a yoga studio/head shop type scent on my skin. From there eau d’epices developed into a really cloying mix of overly sweet spices. I ultimately had to scrub it and spend some time outside in a cool breeze to clear my nose.

Photo: David Hare via open.za

For The Non-Blonde, however, the spices in Eau d’Epices created a scent that was “gorgeous.” Her 2010 review begins by noting how there is no cumin in the scent, then states:

Now that we established that Eau d’Epices is not Tauer’s answer to Arabie and its back alleys of the Souk, let’s talk about what it is (other than gorgeous). This is a classic Tauer in the sense of offering the familiar Tauerade accord in the dry-down: a balsamic cistus, ambergris and a dry woody thing in the background, but the potent potion is less assertive at first and gives a lot of breathing room both to the spicy opening and to the incredibly sensual floral heart. Eau d”epices is breathtakingly complex and requires a lot of attention the first few times you smell it. The fragrance takes you on an exotic journey and fills your mind with all kinds of Arabian Nights imagery[….][¶]

The thing is that once you make friends with this colorful vision, Eau d’Epice becomes warm easy to wear. Yes, one must love incense and spice, not to mention the Tauer accord, but if you do, this masterfully crafted and blended perfume is a must-try for both men and women.

To that list of requirements, I would also add “very indolic white florals.” Yes, you have to love both the Tauerade signature base and a lot of spices, but the core of Eau d’Epices is the orange blossom absolute — in all of its manifestations. And that includes indoles. Even if you don’t experience the mothball note, you are likely to face one (or more) of its other characteristics.

So, give Eau d’Epices a try if you love orange blossoms, spices, incense, and dark resinous Orientals.

Disclosure: Perfume courtesy of Hypoluxe, the U.S. distributor for Tauer Perfumes. That did not influence this review, I do not do paid reviews, and my opinions are my own.

DETAILS:

Cost & Availability: Eau d’Epices is an eau de parfum that only comes in 50 ml bottle and costs $135, £92, or around €105. At the time of this post, the Tauer website is currently under maintenance or updating for a week, so I can’t link you to his e-store. In the U.S.: Eau d’Epices is available for pre-order with April shipping from Luckyscent. At MinNY, the perfume should be in stock by 3/31, so the website listing will probably change soon from the current “special order” status. Another option is Portland’s The Perfume House which already has Eau d’Epices in stock. Outside the U.S.: The new Canadian carrier for Tauer Perfumes is Indiescents, though Eau d’Epices is not yet listed on their website. That should change at the beginning of April. For most of Europe, you can purchase Tauer fragrances directly from the company, along with samples, Discovery sets and the 15 ml 3-piece mini collection, but the website is down right now. Elsewhere, Essenza Nobile and First in Fragrance currently have Eau d’Epices for €105, though bottles are probably from the original release. In the U.K., Scent & Sensibility is the exclusive retailer for Tauer Perfumes, and offers Eau d’Epices for pre-order at £92 with delivery to follow at the end of April. Samples: Surrender to Chance had Eau d’Epices starting at $3.99 for a 1/2 ml vial, but a reader told me that they are sold out of their old bottle at this time.