Parfums Rétro Grand Cuir

Posted on November 9, 2013 by Kafkaesque

Source: lonelyplanet.com

A rocky mountain road with long, winding curves lies ahead of you, the wind blows through your fingers as you rev the throttles on the motorcycle, and all around you wafts the birch, pine and herbs of a nearby forest. They mingle with the scent of a leather jacket that is at once raw and refined, dark black and aged brown. The leather changes from the hard edge of tarry birch, to the quiet rumble of animalic, feline muskiness, the sweet glow of amber, and the refinement of the most expensive Italian suede. The bouquet contrasts with the clean freshness of skin that still carries traces of the soap you used in your early morning shower. It tames and softens the leather’s edges, creating the illusion of polite refinement over the lion’s quiet rumbling.

Source: Luckyscent

Contradictions and paradoxes lie at the heart of Grand Cuir, a fragrance from Parfums Rétro that explores leather from one end of the spectrum to the other under the most civilized and sophisticated of veneers. It starts as raw leather coated with birch tar and pungent herbs before turning into the expensive, new black leather of a biker’s jacket, then burnished, softly aged leather with amber, before ending up as the most refined of Italian suedes infused with lavender. It’s a journey that is at once animalic and clean with a fragrance that starts almost as an aromatic fougère with leather, before it transforms into something very different. And the whole thing is done sotto voce, with the quiet firmness of a confident man who doesn’t believe he has to be flashy and loud to draw attention to himself.

Jeffrey Dame. Source: Fragrantica.

Grand Cuir is an eau de parfum that was released in June 2013 from a new company created by a veteran of the business. Parfums Rétro is the creative venture of Jeffrey Dame, a man who has more than 30 years in the perfume business in all its aspects: extensive involvement with Caron, Estée Lauder, Tuvaché and Neiman Marcus; actual perfume development for a number of houses; the creation of Perfume of Life (one of the very earliest online perfume forums) in 1999; his role as the President of Hypoluxe, a distributor of such well-regarded niche perfume brands as M. Micallef and Andy Tauer; and, now, his own perfume house with Parfums Rétro.

I should say at the outset that I know Mr. Dame (though we’ve never met in person), and I find him to be utterly charming, funny, direct, down-to-earth, and kind. He’s also a wealth of knowledge about the perfume industry as a whole, as he’s had a front row seat to observe its changes over the last 33 years. And he has definite ideas about how a perfume should progress, how it needs to have body and “movement,” and how many mass-market, commercial fragrances lack a distinctive character.

Ewan McGregor via The Daily Mail.

As a result, I was excited to see what his own creation would be like. Grand Cuir was developed in collaboration with the perfumer, Hugh Spencer, who has had a similarly long career in the business. At the same time, though, I rather dreaded what would happen if I hated the fragrance; I’m always honest, even if it doesn’t serve me well. So, it’s a huge relief to say that I think Grand Cuir is a genuinely good fragrance that has both the refinement of Chanel‘s legendary Cuir de Russie, but also, a sexy animalic growl. For me, Grand Cuir conjures up a good guy, with a slightly wild streak, clean cut sexiness, and sophistication under his leather. The fragrance straddles a variety of genres, and I found parts to be a mesmerizing balance of contrasts. I think men will love it, and that leather-wearing women would enjoy it as well.

In an interview with Ida Meister of Fragrantica, Jeffrey Dame described Grand Cuir as:

A fragrant composition in four parts:

A leather soul from start to finish.

Spicy and herbaceous accents.

A multi-dimensional floral heart.

A comfortable, relaxed base.”

The notes according to Luckyscent and Fragrantica include:

orange blossom, labdanum, birch tar, clary sage, lavender, carnation, rose, violet leaf, geranium, cinnamon, tarragon, pine moss, sandalwood, rosewood, patchouli and musk.

Source: yvelledesigneye.com

Grand Cuir opens on my skin with an aromatic, herbal, citric, fresh start. It may not be in the notes, but I smell bergamot, though it is quickly overwhelmed by a blast of dark, tarry, phenolic birch. It is followed by piquant, peppery, spicy notes from the geranium, carnation, and sharp lavender. Moments later, there is the sudden appearance of fresh, clean soap which contrasts with the dark tar of the birch. Running like a vein through it all is a dark-grey, mineralized, slightly fusty oakmoss.

It’s a start that very much straddles different perfume genres. Grand Cuir opens like a traditional aromatic fougère with lavender and citrus, but also like a crisp, clean, soapy cologne with aldehydes. Yet, Grand Cuir is also most definitely a leather fragrance with smoky, rubbery, tarry, and, at times, slightly raw undertones. The bundle of contrasts is soon complemented by other notes, stirring in the depths. There are hints of warmth and sweetness from the amber, then the merest whisper of patchouli, all lurking deep down. In the middle level, the rose and cinnamon flicker quietly, as does a suggestion of violets.

Source: philiphartiganpraeterita.blogspot.com

The leather rumbles through it all. For the most part, it never feels like purely raw, untreated leather, and it certainly never has the fecal aspects of some leather fragrances. On occasion, though, the birch tar does create a faint tinge of rubberiness and a dark smokiness. In essence, Grand Cuir smells like a very expensive, new, black leather jacket that still has something of an unbroken feel to it. It’s masculine and hard, but also soft and refined at the same time.

Photo: my own.

I think it’s Grand Cuir’s soapy, aldehydic undertone that helps create that impression because there is a certain fizzy cleanness that makes the leather feel “new.” In many ways, Grand Cuir feels like a much smoother, softer version of Chanel’s Cuir de Russie. On my skin, that legendary fragrance manifested itself as mounds of fecal horse manure under a thick blanket of soap suds. Thankfully, Grand Cuir completely avoids those unpleasant extremes with a much defter, smoother handling of the birch tar, leather, and soap. That said, as most regular readers know, I have a slight phobia about soapiness, and I would generally prefer none of it in any fragrance. The same goes double for aldehydes. Despite that, however, I admit that the amount in Grand Cuir’s opening phase was generally manageable, even for me.

Plus, the soapiness serves a very useful, positive purpose: it smooths out the leather’s distinctly animalic edge. While the leather note is never purely raw or untamed like in Montale‘s Aoud Cuir d’Arabie, it does have a very subtle undertone that verges on something urinous. It is much like civet, to be frank, but it’s not extreme, and certainly nothing like a men’s urinal. If you can handle a slightly feline whiff of civet in vintage fragrances, this will be child’s play to you. The note here is much more like the subtle touch in Dior‘s Leather Oud, or perhaps fainter. I like it, and find that it adds a bit of an animalic growl to Grand Cuir’s underbelly.

Clary Sage. Source: TreeFrogFarm.com

Aldehydes and leather are not Grand Cuir’s sole focus at this stage. The herbal accords are equally significant. Tarragon provides an anise-like freshness, while the clary sage adds a spicy, herbal, creamy touch. It has a nuance of both lavender and leather that works well to complement those other notes, while its aromatic freshness also helps undercut some of the darkness of the birch tar. My favorite part, however, may be the piquant, biting, peppery nuances to Grand Cuir’s top bouquet which consistently evokes the dark, green, fuzzy greenness of geranium leaves. The green visuals are underscored by a very subtle note of pine trees that lurks about Grand Cuir’s edges.

Thirty minutes in, Grand Cuir slowly shifts. A more orange-y element begins to stir. The notes start to merge into each other to create a well-blended aromatic, herbal, green, leather fragrance with tarry bits and aldehydes. The leather is incredibly smooth and refined for something so full-bodied. At the end of the first hour, the labdanum appears, adding a slightly animalic, musky, sexy touch to Grand Cuir. Its ambered warmth with its faintly nutty side counters the masculine, faintly raw edges of the leather, creating a smooth balance.

Source: topiphonewalls.com

At the 1.5 hour mark, Grand Cuir settles into its next stage. It has lost much of the herbal, pungently green, somewhat tarry elements of its opening, and is now sleekly stalking out of the gates as a plush, smooth, deep leather with just a faintly animalic, musky growl and a lingering patina of soapy aldehydes. It’s as though that dark, new, black leather jacket has turned into a broken-in, burnished, soft leather that is warm, and rich. Grand Cuir is now flecked with amber, lightly dusted with sweet cinnamon, and is firmly ensconced in a woody embrace. It has the sensuous aspect of Serge Lutens‘ Cuir Mauresque but with much more animalic touches, no jasmine florals, aldehydes instead of powder, and a much more woody base. Grand Cuir’s sillage also changes, dropping quite a bit to make the perfume hover just an inch above the skin.

Ewan McGregor for Belstaff. Source: Twitter.

The fragrance continues to soften and to transform on the leather spectrum. Grand Cuir feels masculine, but soft, clean, and musky at the same time. It’s leather that is turning to suede, but with still a bit of a sexy edge. In some ways, it evokes a clean-shaven man, more than one sporting stubble, if that makes sense. In fact, I have the perfect mental image in my head of the man who symbolizes Grand Cuir, but I couldn’t find an image to fit. (Apparently, men who wear leather don’t shave for fashion shoots!) It’s not James Dean in Mendocino, no matter what Luckyscent’s ad copy for Grand Cuir might say; James Dean is far too pretty. It’s also not Humphrey Bogart (too leathery, old, and rough), Robert Redford (too pretty again), or Leonardo di Caprio (too boyish and soft). George Clooney is very close, but I don’t associate him with leather or with a devil-may-care edge. It might be a dark-haired version of Steve McQueen in “The Great Escape” with the charm of Ewan McGregor and a dash of George Clooney, perhaps.

Steve McQueen in “The Great Escape.”

Whoever the perfect masculine representation may be, Grand Cuir turns utterly addictive at the start of the 4th hour. It’s the most fascinating mix of musky and clean, animalic and refined. Something about the leather is as soft as the most expensive Italian suede, while still maintaining the feel of really well-polished, expensive leather shoes, and the confident swagger of a guy in a biker jacket. None of it is too much, either in terms of brashness, refinement, elegance or sexiness. And, believe it or not, I think that oddly clean, soapy patina may be the reason why. It keeps all the competing elements in check, balancing them out, taming the hint of civet-like sourness to the leather, and adding a sophisticated smoothness. For my tastes, this amount of aldehydes or soap is perfect — and perfectly chic. I wish it had been that way initially, but, again, I’m phobic about soapiness.

Source: seasonalcolor.yuku.com

Grand Cuir continues to soften further, turning into the palest, creamiest suede. It sits over a base of amber that is warm, but not heavy or thick. It is also supported by a faintly woody undertone, though it’s too nebulous to be easily distinguishable as rosewood or something else. Finishing things up is a fluctuating degree of animalic edge, and a lingering muskiness that feels clean. At the start of the 8th hour, Grand Cuir is suede with a sweet-sour edge over sheer, woody amber, but with the surprising return of the lavender and clary sage. I tested the perfume twice and it was the same situation on both occasions: Grand Cuir turns into a beautifully soft, refined suede infused by the perfect touch of creamy lavender and slightly floral clary sage. I loved it, and was very happy that the fragrance remained that way largely until its very end. In its final moments, Grand Cuir was just a faint blur of lavender with some abstract suede-y sweetness.

Grand Cuir has enormous longevity on my skin, but very soft sillage. It lasted 12 hours on my perfume-consuming skin with three sprays, and 10.5 hours with two small ones. The sillage began at the moderate end, wafting about 3 inches above the skin, before dropping around the 1.5 hour mark to something much smaller. It was a skin scent on me by the end of the 2nd hour. All of this is intentional. Jeffrey Dame has explicitly said that he didn’t want a blustery, loud scent, but, rather, one that was discreet:

I realize that inobtrusive has ceased to be a positive attribute these days—but I intend it here as a great compliment. We aren’t howling patchouli here, or musk-monster, either.

My personal tastes actually do run towards “howling patchouli,” and I like perfumes with a sonic boom, but there is a time and place for refined, discreet elegance as well. If Grand Cuir didn’t have such a distinctive character and such movement across its stages, I would be less enthused, because who wants bland, boring discretion? But it does have those things on my skin. It has the refinement that I sought in Cuir de Russie before I came to a skidding, horrified stop at the enormous mounds of horsey manure and soap that emanated from my skin. (Yes, yes, I know that’s heresy. Stone me if you will. I fully recognize that I’m in a tiny minority on Cuir de Russie!) Grand Cuir also has the sex appeal of Cuir Mauresque, one of my favorite leathers and Serge Lutens fragrances. And then, it ends on the expensive suede softness of Parfum d’Empire‘s Cuir Ottoman, only without the gourmand vanilla touches but with woody notes or creamy lavender instead. For all that, I’ll put up with the discreet sillage.

I think the different aspects and facets to Grand Cuir make it something that women can wear as much as men, so long as they like leather. There are numerous women who worship at the altar of Cuir de Russie; they should certainly try Grand Cuir. However, women who don’t like perfumes with an animalic edge, or who prefer more purely suede affairs boosted by gourmand touches would probably struggle a little with Grand Cuir. I suspect that is why Luckyscent seems to have designated the fragrance as a “masculine” one.

That said, 40% of the sales of the perfume are by women, so don’t let the categorization put you off. If you can wear Etat Libre d’Orange‘s very intense leather Rien, if you like birch tar in various woody fragrances like Andy Tauer‘s Lonestar Memories, and if you enjoy herbal, aromatic notes, then Grand Cuir will be easy. The key is how smooth and seamless the fragrance is, how none of the notes are out-of-balance or bullying. From the leather to the birch tar, it’s all done in a manner that is intentionally less forceful or intense than in its compatriots. Grand Cuir wants to speak sotto voce, in everything, believing that refined subtlety is best.

Reaction to Grand Cuir is generally positive. On one early Basenotes thread, at the time of the perfume’s release, there are a number of appreciative comments. One example, from “Buzzlepuff” reads:

This is a fantastic leather fragrance – I think. I am smelling rawhide realism, aged lived-in character, depth of tone, highs and lows, cowboys, floral civilized character points, lots and lots of growl in here. Yes I am liking this leather sample. This is leather for big boys and girls! Don’t even try it if you aren’t ready for the real thing.

In the official Basenotes entry for Grand Cuir, reaction is more mixed, with some people struggling in particular with the perfume’s opening. They found it smelled like “muscle ache rub” or “cold cream.” Yet, even one of those commentators liked the fragrance as it developed, writing

It becomes a very excellent natural leather fragrance, if you let it. […] If you make a snap decision about this, you will hate it. If you give it some time you might love it. It is not as strong as Knize 10, or most of the Spanish leathers out there; nor as flowery as Cuir Pleine Fleur by Heeley. It is very subtle, natural and captivating. I don’t know how it is “retro” but it seems fairly modern to me, but not austere or sweet. This is very much worth a try, after a rather strange opening.

A poster called “TheBeck” responded on how the problematic “cold cream” note is the clary sage, then wrote a positive ode to the well-balanced, “unique” elegance of Grand Cuir. It’s too long to quote here, but, in essence, he finds that the soapy aspect “gives us that fresh juxtaposition against the leather and birch tar base which makes this so intoxicating. […] Grand Cuir is perfectly balanced. How the ‘nose’ got all those spicy herbs, florals and leather to blend so seamlessly was no small task. But the results are fantastic.”

On Fragrantica, the same dichotomy exists: a few people found the perfume too soapy, while others write lengthy raves about how it’s a highly refined leather with substantial depth, body, and transitions. I think the key is to get past the opening stage, especially the first 40-minutes, when the soapy element and the herbs are most distinct. The subsequent phases are worth it if you’re a fan of leather or suede fragrances. And the ending is really lovely.

DISCLOSURE: My sample of Grand Cuir was provided courtesy of Parfums Rétro. That did not impact this review. I do not do paid reviews, my opinions are my own, and my first obligation is to my readers.

DETAILS:

Cost & Availability: Grand Cuir is an eau de parfum that comes in a 100 ml/3.4 oz bottle and costs $155. For the moment, it is in exclusive distribution via Luckyscent which also offers samples for $4 a vial. Starting in 2014, however, Parfums Rétro will be available in the UK and the EU at various perfume retailers.

Lys Epona: Celtic Warriors of Spring

Posted on October 26, 2013 by Kafkaesque

Source: Pinterest.

From her great height atop the cliffs, she could gaze at her realm and the fields of yellow, green and gold below her. The Celtic princess was astride a large white stallion, garbed in a softly burnished, slightly musky, brown leather cuirass, and draped with white lilies. Her skirt was made of hay, wheat and grass; her skin was coated in ambered oil; and her long hair braided with daffodils that matched the flowers in her horse’s mane. Behind her were her clansmen, giant warriors silent in leather and white flowers. As they rode down to pay homage to the shrine of Epona, the scent of their horses, leather, and lilies mingled in the air, floating like tendrils over the fields of daffodils, grass, wheat, and dry hay. It is the fragrance of Lys Epona.

Lys Epona via the Jovoy website.

Lys Epona is a new 2013 eau de parfum that is available exclusively at Jovoy Paris. I stumbled upon it while browsing the store and, as you can read in my profile on Jovoy, it blew me away. I had been utterly overwhelmed by all the treasures in the store, and had experienced olfactory fatigue up to that point, but Lys Epona made me sit up and take notice. Jovoy was kind enough to give me a sample to test its duration on my perfume-eating skin, and I still love it as much as I did initially, though its intimate sillage is a great problem for me personally.

While most reports credit Lys Epona and its creation to François Hénin, Jovoy’s owner, in collaboration with the perfume nose, Amelie Bourgeois of Flair, there is actually a third person involved who is much more significant to the tale. A very passionate Parisian perfumista — who prefers to be known only as Annabelle — is responsible for the very idea behind the fragrance. In fact, the perfume is really part of her new brand, Lys Epona, and not a part of Jovoy’s personal line of fragrances at all.

Source: Le Figaro.

The source of Annabelle’s inspiration explains a lot about the fragrance. As she told me in an email and also recounts on her site, Lys Epona, the whole thing began one day in Paris when she was walking near the stables of Le Garde Républicaine, or the Republican Guard, France’s elite mounted cavalry and honour unit. As the smells of horses, leather, hay, and a touch of urine hit her nose, a lady passed by her carrying an enormous bouquet of lilies. The aromas blended together into a magnificent whole which took away her breath. As Annabelle later wrote to me, it was “[l]ike a dance between an Hussar and a Courtisan!”

France’s Republican Guard. Source: ambafrance-kz.org

Garde Republicaine. Photo: souvenir-francais-asie.com

Garde Républicaine. Photo: souvenir-francais-asie.com

The unusual combination stayed in her head. Annabelle loves perfume, particularly vintage ones, but also niche fragrances, and had been a frequent visitor to Jovoy Paris from its very inception back in 2010. So, one day, she told its owner, François Hénin, about the incident, and he asked her if she wanted to try turning her idea into an actual perfume. He put her in touch with Amelie Bourgeois, a “nose” at Flair, and the two worked on perfecting her vision of the dance between leather, horses and lilies.

The result, Lys Epona, was originally meant to be a personal, one-time perfume for its creator, but a twist of fate involving some vintage bottles eventually led to a 100-bottle distribution released under Jovoy’s sponsorship or patronage. (More on those vintage bottles later.) Annabelle later began her blog site, Lys Epona, as a means of talking about the fragrance without stealing from its thunder by coming out as its official creator, but the sponsorship ties that began the collaboration have accidentally ended up giving Jovoy the credit in some people’s eyes. I made the same mistake myself until Annabelle clarified the situation for me in an email, so I wanted to set the record straight.

So, you may ask, what precisely is in it? Jovoy’s French-language page for Lys Epona has many more details than the English version which I had looked at originally, but it still doesn’t include the perfume’s full list of notes. Thanks to Fragrantica (which also accidentally credits the perfume to Jovoy), it seems Lys Epona has:

top notes of bergamot, lily and ravensara; middle notes of narcissus [daffodils], jasmine, ylang-ylang, wheat, hay and lily; and base notes of musk, labdanum, tobacco and cedar.

Ravensara. Source: bellamiraessentialoils.com

Ravensara is not something that I’m at all familiar with, but its aroma turns out to be a significant part of Lys Epona’s beginning. According to my research, it is a member of the Laurel family and its seeds are what we consider to be nutmeg. Ravensara’s aroma, however, is a somewhat medicinal, camphorous one with definite fruity overtones.

Lys Epona always opens on my skin in the same way, but its subsequent development was never precisely the same on each of the four occasions that I tested it. The first time I tested the fragrance, it opened with a burst of freshly crisp citruses, followed by dry hay, leather, and green notes that almost seem like oakmoss at times. There is a plush greenness to the notes that is far more than mere grassiness and really verges on a slightly dry, mossy feel. A few minutes later, the white lilies burst on the scene. While their almost dewy sweetness is potent, it never overwhelms the citric, chypre-like leather start. All around you, the leather swirls in a soft cloud of burnished, aged richness. There is a definite animalic edge in the opening minutes that makes me wonder if Lys Epona has a good dose of civet in it.

Source: Jwallpapers.com

Three minutes later, a slightly mentholated note appears, followed by what I would swear were orange blossoms. In two of my four tests, the orange blossoms seemed quite noticeable to me, taking on a Serge Lutens-like mentholated aspect from its indoles. I realise now that it has to be the combination of the ravensara (with its supposed camphoraceous notes that have a fruity edge) with the white floral blast from the lilies. That “mentholated orange blossom” cocktail ended up being the primary floral note in Lys Epona’s start for the first hour but, oddly enough, my other two tests of Lys Epona never created that impression. Instead, what was much more noticeable was the hay which appeared right alongside the leather and lily.

Epona by “Brian.” Original source or site unknown.

All my tests, however, led to one overall impression of Lys Epona in its opening phase: the Celtic warriors of spring. Each and every time, Lys Epona evoked the image of a countryside filled with dry haystacks, and lightly imbued with the green of rolling, grassy hills and forest moss. There was always the jangle of a horse’s leather reins and its slightly musky smell as you rode through the verdant fields of daffodils to a garden of lush, heady, white flowers. And, on all occasions, the fresh citric start that felt almost chypre and fougère-like with the green and hay overtones dissipated rapidly. What was left behind as the primary essence of the scent was an almost masculine, outdoorsy and leather-influenced take on indolic white florals, that was also sweetly feminine at the same time.

Clip from “Wrath of the Titans.” Source: buzzinefilm.com

Lys Epona is lush, sexy, strong, but also somewhat rugged. This isn’t a lusty courtesan’s white florals that she would wear while languidly reclining on a chaise lounge, nor the delicate flowers of an ethereal, weeping maiden. No sexpot bombshells, or prissily powdered old ladies would fit the scent either. No, this is more a strong Amazonian’s white florals, a beautiful warrior whose well-worn leather armour is covered by wreaths of lilies, and who lives in an outdoors world surrounded by the very essence of nature. It is most definitely the scent of Epona, the protector of horses who was also revered by pagan Celtic tribes as the goddess of fertility, strength and abundance, and whose two symbols are usually horses and wheat.

For the first half of its life, Lys Epona is primarily a perfectly modulated, beautifully blended swirl of lilies and leather that come together in bouquet beribboned with hay, grass, daffodils, and the most infinitesimal touch of animalic horsiness. At its heart and deepest depths, however, Lys Epona has labdanum amber which stirs from its waking sleep as early as thirty minutes into the perfume’s development. Just a hint, just a whisper, but its warmth is enough to consistently diffuse the chilled, mentholated, almost pepperminty undertones to the ravensara. In most of my trials, as the amber slowly, fractionally, made its way to the surface, the leather retreated in equal measure to the sidelines. At the same time, there are undercurrents of green that have the sweetness of freshly mowed grass in summer, and which swirl alongside the amber and the dry hay that lie just below the surface.

Source: hdwallpapers.lt

On top are the white lilies, shining like beacons of purity and freshness in all their glory. Their scent is never heavily indolic, never cloyingly sweet. This is not the lily of Serge Lutens‘ Un Lys, nor the lily of some recent creations like Le Labo‘s Lys 41 or Tom Ford‘s Shanghai Lily. It’s a flower that is simultaneously sweet, dewy, watery, almost a little fruity (thanks to the ravensara) but also a little dry (thanks to the hay).

What’s interesting to me is how the lily can change its role in the perfume’s development from one day to the next and, more importantly, in its accompanying nuances. In my first test, as well as when I blindly sprayed it in Jovoy, Lys Epona seemed a scent that was dominated initially by orange blossoms with the lilies taking a back seat until the start of the second hour. In my second test, the lily was much more dominant from the start, then later joined by jasmine around the middle of the third hour. In my third and fourth tests, the lily was present again from the start, but its strength waxed and waned like a wave hitting the beach. It was also primarily backed by daffodils, instead of the other floral notes.

The leather is very much the same way. In my second and fourth tests, it was very pronounced through much of Lys Epona’s first three hours, and even occasionally dominated the lily. At other times, however, it receded to the sidelines after the first forty minutes, remaining as a constant second layer but never dominating. In all instances, its animalic opening was quickly tamed, and it felt like a very smooth, rounded note.

All of this should make one thing very clear: Lys Epona is what I call a very “prismatic scent.” It throws off different notes at different times like rays of light bouncing off crystals hit by the sun. I suspect different elements would dominate at different stages and upon different wearings. It’s the sign of a beautifully crafted perfume that is blended perfectly and whose great depths are in perfect harmony. Nonetheless, it would probably be more useful to you if I gave you a traditional rundown of its development, even if the analysis covers how it appeared on only one occasion. So, let’s take my third test of Lys Epona and go from there.

Lys Epona opened with its usual burst of fresh, crisp but juicy bergamot. Soon thereafter, there was the animalic leather with its slightly urinous, civet-like undertones, musk, and a hint of sweet florals. At first, the latter is a haze in which daffodils (or narcissus) is only vaguely distinguishable. Minutes later, there are the slow stirrings of lily, which are soon overtaken by a slightly camphorous, mentholated note heralding the arrival of the ravensara. There is an underlying fruitiness which, when combine with the citruses and white florals, again gives off the impression of orange blossoms. This time, however, it’s incredibly fleeting, and the hint of Tiger’s Balm medicated, mentholated salve is much more apparent. It swirls with the jangle of a leather saddle, the musk, the daffodil and lilies, creating a truly unique take on indolic flowers.

Source: Cepolina.com

Fifteen minutes in, the hay, wheat, and grass elements arrive. When combined with the daffodils, they create a freshness that really feels like spring. At the same time, something about the combination of the ravensara and the grass once again evokes soft, plush oakmoss for me. However, the lilies now bloom in full force, as if they’d been awakened by the sun, and their almost watery, dewy sweetness counteracts that passing impression of a chypre. The hay also starts to shine, pushing aside the bergamot and citric notes to the side. At the same time, the civet-like urinous undertone fades away, as the leather takes on an almost burnished, rounded feel.

Epona, with her horse and her wheat. Created by Janet Chui. Source: janetchui.net

By the end of the first hour, the leather and the lily are dancing a tango, sensuously interwoven together, while the hay, grass, ravensara and daffodils clap from the sidelines. Far away, at the periphery, in the shadows, the labdanum amber wakes up at the noise and raises its head. Moment by moment, it draws closer to the stage, until it fully pushes aside the ravensara with its mentholated edge, and shines the light of its warmth onto the other players.

Things change further at the middle of the second hour. Lys Epona’s lily focus is now infused with jasmine, amber, hay, and the slow rumblings of tobacco in the base. From time to time, a juicy, citric sweetness pops back up, but the sweet spring-like aroma of daffodils is much more constant. The leather is now completely off center-stage, hidden behind the flowers, and the daffodil/narcissus in particular. Yet, it is subtly complemented by the somewhat nutty, leathery characteristics of labdanum. This is a leather that is now no longer animalic and musky, but rather just a suggestion. The labdanum is the same way for it lacks its slightly dirty, almost masculine essence at this stage. Instead, its aroma is more of regular, slightly sweetened, soft amber.

Photo: Henry Hargreaves Photography. “Smoke and Lily” series. Source: Trendland.com http://trendland.com/henry-hargreavess-smoke-and-lily-photography/

It takes a while for the labdanum to appear in all its beautiful glory. (Labdanum is my absolute favorite kind of amber precisely because of its unique aroma.) At the end of the third hour, Lys Epona turns into a scent that is primarily golden amber in focus, where the labdanum has turned the lily’s whiteness into a burnished bronze. The fragrance is a gorgeous glow of molten nuttiness and amber, infused with touches of lily, labdanum’s honeyed nuance, and musk. Flickers of leather, hay, grass, tobacco and an abstract woodiness dance all around. Lys Epona remains that way largely until its very final stage when it’s merely a blur of amber with minute traces of tobacco and hay. The lily has mostly faded away, as has the leather. At the very end, only the golden amber is left, like a sunset fading on the Celts.

Lys Epona is wonderfully original and extremely beautiful, but it also has some problems for me on a personal level. I repeatedly struggled with the sillage and longevity. Now, I have perfume-eating skin, but I rarely have a problem with sillage. And Lys Epona has very soft sillage! Obviously, projection is a very personal matter, but I can give you only my personal reaction, which is that Lys Epona becomes too soft too quickly. Each and every time, on all four tests, Lys Epona became an intimate scent after a mere one hour. One hour! It’s far, far too soon, in my opinion. Soft sillage that hovers only an inch or so above your skin is acceptable after a few hours and, in my ideal world, would be best after about 6-8 hours, but one hour?!

Spraying versus dabbing is not the answer, either. In general, aerosolisation adds to a perfume’s strength and longevity, but all my tests involved sprays from the small atomizer that Jovoy kindly made for me. So, while the perfume itself comes in a dab bottle (if memory serves me correctly), I was using the method that best amplifies a perfume’s projection. And that method gave me a mere hour or 75 minutes of a moderate perfume cloud! For people like myself who prefer a little more of a power to their fragrances, I think Lys Epona’s rapidly dropping sillage might be a little disappointing.

I should also add that increased quantity did not make much of a difference. I applied an average of 4 squirts from my 2 ml spray vial each time. During my fourth test, it almost felt as though the perfume were evaporating from my skin, as it became less potent and noticeable within a mere 15 minutes. Was the air conditioning too high, and the temperature too cold for Lys Epona to really bloom? To counter the possibility, I added two additional sprays, for a total of 6 sampler sprays (or what might be 3 big sprays from an actual bottle, depending on the size of its hole). No difference. Lys Epona was a lovely, albeit very soft, cloud for just 60 minutes, and then dropped in force. At all times, it was airy in weight and feel, never thick or opaque, and its final stages coated the skin like a gauzy whisper. Personally, I wish it had been a little less airy and sheer, but Lys Epona is not meant to be a baroque, molten, heavy scent.

In addition to the sillage issue, the longevity wasn’t great on my skin either, but that is obviously much more of a personal outcome due to my wonky skin chemistry. On average, Lys Epona lasted between 6.5 hours and 7.75 hours, depending on the quantity that I used. I may have perfume-consuming skin, but I’ve certainly found a number of brands and fragrances that have lasted 12+ hours on me, even up to 16 hours in small, lingering spots, and often with a significantly smaller quantity of liquid than I used here. The fact that Lys Epona is not exactly cheap (€225), is only 65 ml (just over 2.1 oz), and would require a lot of sprays for the perfume to really last on me means that I would go through that bottle quite quickly. For me, it’s a concern, and the primary reason why I won’t consider buying Lys Epona for myself.

In my exchanges with the absolutely lovely, incredibly sweet, outgoing and very vibrant Annabelle, I mentioned the sillage and longevity issues. She was surprised to hear that I thought Lys Epona was very soft. Apparently, her friend tells her that she can’t spray Lys Epona when they’re going to be in the small confines of a car because it’s too strong. But sillage is a very subjective, personal matter, so it really depends on how one defines “strong” and the yardsticks used therein. Annabelle mentioned that she was not fond of the ’80s powerhouse scents, after one too many bad experiences being cloistered at 7 a.m. in the elevator with a neighbor who sprayed on too much. Now, me, in comparison, I hope to die being covered and drenched in vintage ’70s Opium, and I love Amouage scents, so obviously I have a very different interpretation of the perfect sillage.

What was interesting to me is something else that Annabelle mentioned as a specific goal for the perfume’s structure. She wanted a very strong, powerful opening, almost like a sort of Lutens-like “Lys Criminelle.” Yet, she intentionally sought to make that opening later turn into something soft and intimate for symbolic reasons, as if the “lily and horse, after a race, finally tamed each other.” I admire that intellectually, and think it’s rather a brilliant piece of olfactory meaning. I also think she fully accomplished her goal, because the two notes did tame each other in each of my tests.

John Collier, “Queen Guinevere’s Maying” (1900). Source: Wikipedia.

At the end of the day, issues of sillage and longevity are all a matter of personal preference. Some people absolutely hate perfumes that are too strong, with Amouage-like intensity and forcefulness. They specifically seek more unobtrusive fragrances that are like a suggestive, personal whisper, or that might be something they could wear to work without bothering colleagues. Lys Epona would definitely qualify. I also think that it would work perfectly on both a man and a woman. It is rugged and outdoorsy with its spring-like touches and leather, but it is also beautifully feminine and elegant.

In short, nothing I’ve said here about the sillage or airiness should change the main bottom line: Lys Epona is a gorgeous scent that is incredibly original, creative, different, and elegant. The radiating prisms of its notes, its beautifully evocative nature, its depths, and its very classique, old-school sophistication are a stunning achievement for a first time perfume creator, and Annabelle’s passionate love for perfumery shows in every drop. Amelie Bourgeois’ talents (and supposed love for horses) also show, so both of them deserve much praise in my opinion. If you end up buying Lys Epona, I think you will have a truly original creation on your hands which will stand out in your collection. I haven’t quite come across anything like it.

Lys Epona also happens to be a very lovely looking perfume in terms of its packaging. From the moment I held the bottle in my hands, I felt as though I had a rare, vintage treasure of great character. From the black-and-gold, scrolled letters on the label, to the Lalique-like, clouded crystal stopper, Lys Epona is beautiful. For me, its look not only conjures up images of the golden age of perfumery, but also serves as a wonderful parallel to the scent itself whose sophisticated, complex, very nuanced structure give it a very classique feel.

Lys Epona. Photo courtesy of Annabelle.

There is another story behind the Lys Epona bottles, and I think the tale is significant because it explains the limited nature of the perfume’s production. As noted up above, Lys Epona was originally intended to be a one-time thing made only for Annabelle in a labour of love. As Annabelle explained to me in an email, things changed one day when François Hénin called her and asked her to come to Jovoy, as he had a little surprise for her. There, he gave her something in a very yellowed, dirty newspaper. It was an old bottle. But there was more.

That very first, original bottle wrapped in paper. Source: lysepona.blogspot.com

A friend of Mr. Henin’s could sell them a whole box of real vintage bottles from the Brosse glass factory and dating back to the 1930s! There were only 108 of them, and due to their age, some were not in a state that could be offered to customers, but there were at least 100 good, genuinely antique bottles. (You can see the original, untouched bottles in a post on that subject on Annabelle’s site.) As a final coincidence and sign, the newspaper that the first bottle was put in was a page from 1934 that talked about a horse race. It was all too perfect, especially for Annabelle who loves vintage perfumes. So, they decided to make a limited, one-time distribution with those 100 antique bottles.

The very aged nature of the bottles means that there is a tiny, remote chance that they won’t all be completely, utterly perfect. I have a blog friend who ordered Lys Epona blindly, and who was disappointed to see two red dots or marks on the crystal stopper. Jovoy dealt with the situation in a professional manner and replaced the bottle, but I think my friend might have been a little less disappointed if he had known the origins and backstory for those bottles. They certainly have a unique touch and character, much like any antique, and their potential flaw simply adds to their charm in my opinion. So, if you get one that is less than perfect, remember that it is one of a very rare set that is over 80 years old!

All in all, I definitely recommend giving Lys Epona a sniff if you love lilies and/or leather. Those of you in the States can actually order a sample from Surrender to Chance to test it out, but buying it won’t be quite as easy since Jovoy does not ship outside the E.U. However, they are very fond of any “EU cousins” that you may have, so perhaps you can see if a friend will help out in terms of lending their shipping address. There is also a personal shopper option that I explain further in the Details section below. I should add that I don’t know how many bottles of Lys Epona remain, especially as it was released a few months ago, but I’ve seen enough internet interest in the scent for me to urge you to hurry if you’re serious about it. I think it’s more than just a lily scent, more than a leather, or the fraction of its parts. I think it’s an evocative journey back in time. It’s up to you whether you’re taken to a world of Celtic warriors surrounded by nature, or to that of Napoleonic cavalry officers wooing languid courtesans draped with lilies.

Note: my sample of Lys Epona was provided to me by Jovoy Paris, but they didn’t know I was going to do a review of the fragrance. I do not do paid reviews, and my opinions are my own.

DETAILS:

Cost & Availability: Lys Epona is an eau de parfum that is exclusive to Jovoy Paris. It comes in a 65 ml/ 2.1 oz size, is limited in quantity, and costs €225. Jovoy does not ship to the U.S. unfortunately, but are happy to mail to any “EU cousins” (as they amusingly put it, right down to the quotes) that you may have.

Samples: In the U.S., samples are available from Surrender to Chance which sells Lys Epona starting at $9.99 for a 1/2 ml vial.

Personal Shopper Options: One option for you to consider if you’re a U.S. resident who is interested in buying Lys Epona is to use a personal shopper who goes to France every month. Shop France Inc is run by Suzan, a very reputable, extremely professional, personal shopper who has been used by a number of perfumistas. She will go to France, and buy you fragrances (or other luxury items like Hermès scarves, etc.) that are otherwise hard to find at a reasonable price. Shop France Inc. normally charges a 10% commission on top of the item’s price with 50% being required as a down payment. If you have specific questions, you can contact her at shopfranceinc@yahoo.com. As a side note, I have no affiliation with her, and receive nothing as a result of mentioning her.

New Perfume Release: LM Parfums Hard Leather

Posted on October 16, 2013 by Kafkaesque

As fate would have it, this morning I received the press release for LM Parfums‘ new fragrance, Hard Leather. Just yesterday, I talked about my overall impressions of the perfume which I got to test in Paris a few weeks ago, and absolutely loved. Hard Leather is set to launch in a few weeks, in November 2013. While I don’t have an exact date yet, I do have the notes and concentration of the perfume. [Update: The perfume has released and I have a full review of it. I have also placed it on my Best of 2013 list.]

I thought I’d post the full photographic press release instead of just writing out the text. I think the visuals are sexy and very sleekly cool, and I’m not just saying that because black is my favorite colour.

So, in short, the notes in Hard Leather are:

Rum, Leather, Iris, Honey, Sandalwood, Cedarwood, Oud, Frankincense, Styrax and Vanilla.

Hard Leather is an extrait (or pure parfum) in concentration and comes in a 100 ml/3.4 oz bottle. LM Parfums’ extrait line usually costs $225 or €195, with the company offering 5 ml decants for €19. I don’t have pricing for Hard Leather, but I assume it will be in the same range. The line is available in the U.S. at OsswaldNY, and Hard Leather should be no exception. In Europe and elsewhere, you can buy LM Parfums directly from Laurent Mazzone’s website, as well as from numerous retailers. Links to online vendors who generally carry the line are below.

DETAILS:

In the U.S.: Laurent Mazzone’s fragrances used to be European exclusives, but the range just came to America two months ago. It’s sold exclusively at OsswaldNYC, with samples available for purchase by telephone order. Outside the U.S.: In Europe, you can buy the perfumes directly from LM Parfums. (There is also this other LM Parfums site.) Samples are available for €14 or €19, depending on the perfume in question and its concentration, and they come in a good 5 ml size. In the UK, the LM Parfums line is carried exclusively at Harvey Nichols. In France, you can find the perfumes, and 5 ml samples of each at Laurent Mazzone’s own Premiere Avenue. In Paris, LM Parfums are sold at Jovoy. Germany’s First in Fragrance carries the full line and sells samples as well. You can also find LM Parfums at Essenza Nobile, Italy’s Vittoria Profumi, or Alla Violetta. In the Netherlands, you can find LM Parfums at Silks Cosmeticsor Parfumaria. In the Middle East, I found most of the LM Parfums line at the UAE’s Souq perfume retailer. For all other countries, you can find a vendor near you from Switzerland to Belgium, 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, and many of those sites sell samples as well.

Paris Perfumers: Laurent Mazzone & LM Parfums

Posted on October 15, 2013 by Kafkaesque

Fate, planning, and a little bit of serendipity gave me the chance to meet with three, very different, Paris perfumers during my trip. Actually, to be completely precise, one is primarily based in Grenoble, and one is an actual nose/creator, while the other two are more technically considered as perfume creators with their own houses. Semantics aside, I had a marvelous time with each one, and thought I’d share a little bit of the experience, each of which was very different but utterly memorable. Today, the focus will be Laurent Mazzone and some of the LM Parfums that I tried, including some gorgeous upcoming, new releases slated for November 2013 and early 2014.

LAURENT MAZZONE & LM PARFUMS:

Hotel Costes. Source: hotel-costes.semuz.com

The Hotel Costes on the Rue St. Honoré in Paris is perhaps the pinnacle of stylish, ne plus ultra, sophisticated cool. Velvet, opulence and excess are the bywords for the decor inside, but one of the main attractions is the indoor courtyard. And what a scene it is! Imagine a large, covered, indoor courtyard surrounded on high by Roman statues and greenery. At its pristine, white tables covered with crystal glasses, an array of pencil-thin, black-clad, social x-rays — draped in ennui as much as in Hermès — pose stylishly on thin, black chairs. Their fragile bones seem likely to be crushed by the great effort of lifting their cigarettes. And they’ve clearly followed the mantra and example of Anna Wintour, Vogue’s “Nuclear Winter” editor-in-chief, when it comes to haughtiness. Their male counterparts are all tanned, in dark suits with crisp white shirts that are opened a few buttons, and fixated on their cellphones as they sip a glass of chilled white wine with one well-shod limb elegantly crossed over the other. All around are a phalanx of haughty waiters, many of whom seem to be aspiring models, who look down their noses at your from their great height and seem almost offended that you’ve bothered them with a request. (Or perhaps they’ve simply got issues with people who ask for ice, or for directions to the loo? At the very least, they’ve got issues with a variety of things, and need a serious attitude adjustment.)

Hotel Costes courtyard. Source: lefigaro.fr. photo : DR.

Outside the Hotel Costes. Photo: my own.

As I walked up to the hotel from the aristocratic, luxurious Place Vendome just around the corner, a large chauffeur-driven Rolls-Royce was idling, and a bodyguard talking into his microphone. The chauffeur stood in the middle of the road with the famous Chopard jewellers behind him. Hovering like a gaggle of geese, outside and in, were extremely tall, elegantly clad women whose clothing, looks, and attitude marked them as somehow being involved in Paris Fashion Week which was ending the next day (October 2nd).

It was into this overly hip, excessively cool, “in” scene that I arrived — sleep-deprived, with my voice half-gone from the early part of my trip, and feeling rather bedraggled, if truth be told. I was scheduled to meet Laurent Mazzone and Fabienne, the international business agent for LM Parfums, whose incredibly warm, sweet, and friendly emails had resulted in this meeting. We had begun communicating just a few days before my departure and after my enthusiastic, extremely positive review for LM Parfums‘ gorgeous Sensual Orchid.

As luck would have it, Laurent Mazzone was going to be in Paris for the fashion shows. He had greatly enjoyed the thoroughness of my review (happily, my verboseness seems to a positive thing for some people!), and invited me for drinks. When I warned Fabienne that my French was rusty and that I hadn’t spoken it consistently in almost 20 years, she offered to come along as well. (It was just as well because, despite her opinion that I wasn’t at all rusty, I most definitely am! Plus, in the fog of my exhaustion, I often blanked out on words or phrases. Merci, Fabienne, for saving my linguistic hide.)

Laurent Mazzone.

I found Laurent and Fabienne easily, sitting at a couple of tables in the corner along with Laurent’s partner, and was greeted with kisses and even a hug. Laurent Mazzone is a very dapper, youngish man in his early ’30s (I think), with a cherubic face, a naughty gleam in his mischievous, warm, brown eyes, and a big grin. He has an enormously exuberant personality, which I loved, and endless passion. Yet, he is also extremely serious when it comes to the subject of perfumery, and has a true commitment to the idea of making luxurious, sensuous perfumes in the grand tradition, but with a modern feel. There was enormous sensitivity in those brown eyes when listening to my comments about some of his line, sometimes followed by a huge, infectious smile from ear to ear when he saw that I understood and appreciated their nature.

Patchouli Boheme. Source: uae.souq.com

He had brought a chic, black, and black-ribboned, LM Parfums bag of what I thought would be perfume samples. They turned out to be actual, full, 100 ml bottles of 3 of his fragrances: Ambre Muscadin, Patchouli Boheme, and the new, limited-edition, Chemise Blanche. Yet, despite my patchouli and amber obsession, I never tested any of those perfumes that day and, instead, ended up trying his forthcoming, new perfume, Hard Leather.

Hard Leather will be released in November, and I can’t wait because I absolutely loved it! In fact, I think I may have yelped or cried out rather loudly upon sniffing it because, suddenly, some tables of black-clad, haughty Parisians were turning around with raised eyebrows. I didn’t care, and I think I may have hugged Mr. Mazzone at one point over Hard Leather because it was (and is) absolutely fantastic. Mr. Mazzone describes it as an “animalic leather” that, to my opinion at least, isn’t particularly animalic or aggressive after the opening 10 minutes, but, instead, much more beautifully well-rounded and warm. It might be “animalic” by French standards, but I don’t think it is generally or as a whole, and especially not by Middle Eastern or Amouage standards.

Hard Leather has its musky side to be sure, but it’s primarily woody, sweet, rich, spicy, ambered, and incredibly sensual. From the first sniff, I could instantly tell that there was oud from Laos in it, with its own very unique, aged character, but what I liked about this version of it is that it didn’t smell fecal like so many fragrances that use that particular Laotian wood. Even better, there is none of that revolting Gorgonzola or cheese undertone that very aged Laotian oud can sometimes have. Soon after the agarwood announces itself, there is a burst of pungent civet which quickly calms down (in less than ten minutes), and melts into the rich, well-blended, richly burnished whole.

In essence, Hard Leather smells like your boyfriend’s leather jacket, lightly mixed with his musky scent, along with deep, almost honeyed, slightly smoky oud, and a vague tinge of floral sweetness, atop a base of ambered warmth. At times, it seemed to share some kinship with Serge Lutens Cuir Mauresque, which is one of my absolute favorite Lutens fragrances, but there are clear differences in smell. Even apart from the oud, Hard Leather has a little more edge at first, and is significantly more woody. It also seems to have a different (and much smaller) floral vein running through it. I can’t remember the rest of the notes that Laurent later told me about, but, if memory serves me correctly, there is iris absolute in Hard Leather as well. [UPDATE 10/17/13 – I have the official press release for Hard Leather with its sleek graphics and the full list of notes in the perfume.]

I also can’t recall the name of the perfumer with whom Laurent worked, but I laughed at his description of the process whereby he kept telling the nose to put in “more. More, more, more!” Not only is such a comment completely in keeping with Mr. Mazzone’s character, intensity and passion, but the perfume really has deep richness. I was so crazy about Hard Leather that Mr. Mazzone sent his friend up to their rooms to get his own small decant to give me as a gift, which resulted in a further exuberant outburst that undoubtedly horrified the Hotel Costes’ snobs, but too bad. This is such a fantastic perfume! I will do a review closer to the perfume’s launch date, but I’m telling guys, in particular, and women who like masculine, woody or leather scents: you need to check this one out.

Some, but not all, of the LM Parfums line. Source: Silkcosmetics.nl

What I love about LM Parfums is that they are luxurious, sensuous, full-bodied, and rich. Hard Leather, unlike most of the perfumes from the line, is an extrait de parfum (only three of the current LM Parfums have that concentration), and clocks in at 20% perfume oil. All the perfumes, however, have an opulence that really harkens back to the golden age of perfumery. They’re not fuddy-duddy, old or dated in smell, but Laurent is clearly driven by his love for the classic perfume greats. These fragrances all feel like actual, serious perfumes — they proclaim their richness and luxurious nature without hesitation, announce their presence, and feel no shame over the fact that they are both perfume and French in nature.

Yet, the thing I found with Sensual Orchid and Hard Leather is that their richness contrasts with a surprising airiness in feel. These are not opaque, thick perfumes by any means! Based on what I’ve tested thus far from the line, even the sillage drops after about 2-3 hours to hover somewhat discretely just an inch or so above the skin. The perfumes are potent when smelled up close and linger, but they aren’t battleships of heaviness with nuclear projection that trails you for hours. (In all honestly, I wish they were like that, but I realise that my personal tastes are not the modern style, and that ’80s-style powerhouses are rarely made today.) Still, LM Parfums are all very French in feel or spirit. Mr. Mazzone mentioned a number of the perfume legends, like Guerlain’s Mitsouko, for example, and how he wants his perfumes to reflect the same sort of sophisticated complexity with layers of nuance.

His philosophy certainly shows in Hard Leather, but also in another upcoming fragrance called Army of Lovers. It is a chypre and, honestly, this is a true chypre! None of that neo-chypre or wanna-be, pretend, quasi-chypre business. (Le Labo’s Ylang 49, I’m looking straight at you with your revolting purple patchouli!) No, this is an actual, genuine chypre with an amount of oakmoss absolute that you have to smell to believe. It’s beautiful, very elegant, and reeks of class. It was created by Mr. Mazzone with a Robertet nose (I think) whose name I have now forgotten, and the perfume name references a Swedish group that Mr. Mazzone loves. I have to wonder if there will be any trademark issues in using the same name, but the perfume won’t be released until 2014, so I’m sure he has time to work out any problems that may arise.

I wish I could recall the notes in Army of Lovers, but all I remember now is how impressed I was with its elegance. At one point, I had Hard Leather on one shoulder or bicep, and Army of Lovers on the other — and I may have uttered a rather strangled, guttural moan. I certainly did something very loudly that seemed to have (further) shocked the constipated denizens of the Hotel Costes, and I saw a very disapproving gleam in our server’s eyes when he stopped by next. At this point, I most definitely did not care. Laurent Mazzone was spraying me with glee, and then himself, and we were standing up to sniff each other publicly without the slightest bit of thought to those around. I might have entered a slight fugue state at one point as the potent chypre of Army of Lovers, and the spicy, oriental, animalic leather-oud warmth of Hard Leather billowed out around me. I may have this incorrectly, but if I recall, I think Laurent Mazzone stated that Ambre Muscadin and Patchouli Boheme are two of the main corner stones or representational fragrances from his line. I suspect that either Hard Leather, Army of Lovers, or both will be soon joining them.

In telling you all this, I’m being completely honest. Just as I am when I say that there were some things I smelled that day that were not my cup of tea at all. Very well-made, and beautifully blended, yes, but most definitely not my personal style. Mr. Mazzone sprayed me with something and — blame my usual bluntness or, perhaps, massive sleep-deprivation — I instinctively recoiled, my whole body jerked back, and I grimaced. It was some floral fragrance with purple, fruity patchouli and a synthetic element. So much purple, sweetness, and fruitiness! I had blocked out the name entirely due to my sheer horror, but, in looking over the list of names in the LM line now, I suspect it was O de Soupirs.** If I recall correctly, Mr. Mazzone described its feeling or inspiration as something a woman would wear before going to a rendezvous with her lover. Before I could stop myself, I blurted out something along the lines of “Absolutely not! This is for a 14-year old girl!” (Oh God, now that I’m remembering more of the day, I think I even tried to rub it off my arm with a napkin!) ** [UPDATE: it turns out the fragrance I didn’t like was a new, upcoming, not-yet-released perfume called Lost Paradise. It will be launched in 2014. — Further Update 1/29/14: the name has been changed to Ultimate Seduction. ]

I usually try to be more tactful and polite, so I’m quite chagrined at my rudeness, but I really couldn’t help the outburst or my instinctive, gut-level reaction. There was a pause in the conversation, and Mr. Mazzone blinked, but he was extremely gracious about it, though there was a hurt look in his sensitive eyes. I tried to explain that I was always very honest in my opinions, and that my candour should let him know that I was quite sincere in my raves for the other two perfumes. He actually seemed to like that a lot, but he’s also incredibly polite, so perhaps I’m just hoping that he put it all into context.

Even before this incident, Mr. Mazzone had quickly caught onto my personal tastes, which strongly mirror his own, so it wasn’t a surprise when he immediately noted that I would very much dislike another perfume that he had included in the very generous “samples.” It was the new, recently released but limited-edition Chemise Blanche which — unlike its siblings — is not done in a black, velvet box imprinted with the LM Parfums logo. It’s also not in one of the black bottles that Mr. Mazzone has intentionally made almost just barely opaque, but not quite. He was concerned that perfume owners would not be able to see how much was left in their bottle if it was a solid black, so he specifically had the glass done in a way which would show how much liquid was left if the bottle was held up to the light. I loved the thoughtfulness and attention to detail involved in that, especially as the issue of remaining quantity is a problem that I always have with my old, jet-black bottle of Fracas.

Instead, Chemise Blanche is in a clear, glass bottle and in a white velvet box. The reason Mr. Mazzone was sure I would dislike it is because it is very much the opposite of my favorites from his line: it’s a perfume centered around aldehydes and citruses. To me, it very much evokes something crystalline in visuals, almost Alpine, if you will: white, pure, clear, airy, and very light in feel, despite being an extrait in concentration. According to Fragrantica, the notes include:

aldehydes, bergamot, mandarin, iris, lily of the valley, rose, benzoin, tonka, amber and musk.

To my surprise, given my loathing for aldehydes, the note was much tamer than I had expected but, alas, even Mr. Mazzone admitted that Chemise Blanche smelled of soap and dishwashing liquid on my skin. (By now, sniffing yet my another portion of my shoulder, we were really receiving some strange looks!) Chemise Blanche is not my style at all, and my skin is always a huge problem when it comes to aldehydes, but I freely admit that the perfume is very well-done. Actually, with a few wearings, I occasionally persuaded myself that Chemise Blanche might almost be something I would opt for if I were looking for a crisp, light, gauzy perfume with a citric edge. Almost. I’m wearing Hard Leather as I write this, and I doubt I would ever go for crystal white when I could have shades of richly burnished brown, red, black and amber instead!

Nonetheless, Chemise Blanche turned out to be quite a hit with my friend with whom I was staying and who has very difficult perfume tastes. It’s not only that she is someone whose tastes are the polar opposite of mine; it’s also that she finds almost everything to be “too sweet” or “too strong.” She recoils in horror at even the slightest bit of Orientalism or spice, isn’t a huge fan of most pure florals, and adores airy, light, clean and citrusy fragrances. Even in that last category, however, she thinks the vast majority are “too sweet.” (It was quite interesting going perfume-shopping with her one day! No matter what citrus fragrance I found for her, almost all were rejected and, in a few cases, deemed to be “too masculine” as well.) Chemise Blanche, however, smelled lovely on her skin, and she seemed almost convinced that it wasn’t the dreaded, verboten “sweet.” (It is not. Not even remotely!) So, I left her a large decant for her to test out while she decides if it is full-bottle worthy.

Laurent Mazzone. Source: unique.ru.com

All in all, I had an absolutely wonderful time meeting Laurent Mazzone, his partner, and Fabienne. They were incredibly warm, friendly, effusive, generous, and filled with life. It was truly fun, whether we were laughing over Mr. Mazzone’s astringent views on some of the Paris Fashion Week collections, sniffing each other publicly, or having passionately robust discussions about the state of perfumery in the past versus today.

You know, all perfumers talk or claim that they put a little bit of themselves or their personalities within each fragrance, but it’s not always true. Commercial perfumery certainly doesn’t have that, and neither do some purportedly “niche” lines. Yet, in sniffing the various LM Parfums, I can actually and genuinely see a little bit of Mr. Mazzone in most of them. There is a quietly refined, passionate lustiness or sensuality in the ones that I’ve tried — whether it’s the overtly sexy Sensual Orchid, the smooth, sweetened, goldenness of Ambre Muscadin, the hugely smoky Patchouli Boheme with its almost mesquite-like opening, or the more masculine Hard Leather — that really seems to epitomize different parts of the gregarious, outgoing, exuberantly passionate man I met. Chemise Blanche seems to be an anomaly, at least to me personally, in terms of that character assessment theory, but the line certainly carries something for everyone and its clean crispness should definitely appeal to some modern tastes.

I may end up doing a proper review for Chemise Blanche down the line, but I definitely plan to cover Patchouli Boheme and Ambre Muscadin. Hard Leather as well, when it is released next month. In the meantime, if you have the chance to try any LM Parfums, do give them a sniff. The line is now in the U.S., and is no longer exclusive to Europe. Plus, Osswald in New York has a very affordable deal on samples which should make testing quite easy. For readers in Europe, the line is not hard to find, and LM Parfums sells 5 ml decants at a very reasonable price (€14 or €19). As for me, I suddenly fell upon the genius idea of layering Sensual Orchid with Hard Leather on occasion, and now, I really have to get my hands on a proper decant of both. The people at the Hotel Costes are lucky they’re not around to witness my reaction….

[UPDATE: I have now reviewed Ambre Muscadin and Hard Leather, with shopping information and pricing information provided in the appropriate reviews.]

Disclosure: Some of the perfumes covered in this post were, as noted, provided by LM Parfums. There was no financial compensation for any of this. I don’t do paid reviews or posts, and my views are my own.

DETAILS:

Cost & Availability: LM Parfums always come in a 100 ml/3.4 oz bottle. The European price is generally either €120 (€125 at some online vendors), or €195 (or £195). The American retail price is either $175 or $225. In the U.S.: Laurent Mazzone’s fragrances used to be European exclusives, but the range just came to America two months ago. It’s sold exclusively at OsswaldNYC. For some strange reason, the website seems to show only two fragrances now, and not all the ones it had earlier when I reviewed Sensual Orchid. In terms of samples, none of the U.S. perfume sample sites currently carry the LM Parfums line, but Osswald has a special deal for all its perfumes for U.S. customers who telephone the store: 10 samples for $10, with free shipping in the U.S., and it’s for any perfumes that they stock! That means the full, existing, current LM Parfums line (or whatever parts they may now carry of it), and some other goodies only found at OsswaldNY, for less than a $1 a vial! The deal is only available for telephone orders, however, so you have to call (212) 625-3111. Outside the U.S.: In Europe, you can buy the perfumes directly from LM Parfums for €125 or €195. (At this other LM Parfums site, some of the bottles are priced at €120.) Samples are also available for €14 or €19, depending on the perfume in question and its concentration, and they come in a good 5 ml size. In the UK, the LM Parfums line is carried exclusively at Harvey Nichols. In France, you can find the perfumes, and 5 ml samples of each (usually about €14) at Laurent Mazzone’s own Premiere Avenue. In Paris, LM Parfums are sold at Jovoy. Germany’s First in Fragrance carries the full line and sells samples as well. You can also find LM Parfums at Essenza Nobile, Italy’s Vittoria Profumi, or Alla Violetta. In the Netherlands, you can find LM Parfums at Silks Cosmetics or Parfumaria. In the Middle East, I found most of the LM Parfums line at the UAE’s Souq perfume retailer. For all other countries, you can find a vendor near you from Switzerland to Belgium, 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, and many of those sites sell samples as well.