Perfume Review: Le Parfum Couture Denis Durand for M. Micallef

Posted on May 12, 2013 by Kafkaesque

Haute couture and haute perfumery seem like a natural fit, especially for the French. So, it’s perhaps not surprising that both things came together with Le Parfum Couture Denis Durand for M. Micallef. It is a new oriental eau de parfum that is the result of collaboration between the French, niche, perfume line, M. Micallef, and the French couturier, Denis Durand. (Given the length of the fragrance’s name, I hope you’ll excuse me if I’ll just refer to it as “Le Parfum Couture Denis Durand” or “Le Parfum Couture” from now on.)

In the press release, M. Micallef describes the perfume as follows:.

A glamorous, mystical and sophisticated perfume has been born from the close friendship and artistic cooperation between Martine Micallef and Denis Durand: le parfum Denis Durand Couture.

The fragrance composition explodes with citrus head notes and spicy accents of cinnamon. An intense and complex fragrance, the heart and the base cleverly balances the rose, orange blossom and honey softness with the strength of animalic and woody notes.

Dressed with hand sewn delicate Chantilly black lace, the flacon is adorned with a little satin bow and a golden medal engraved with the initials of the two artists.

The perfume notes according to the statement are as follows:

Top Note: Ceylon Cinnamon, Italian tangerine

Heartnote: Bulgarian Rose, Honey, Orange Blossoms, Animalis

Basenote: Sandalwood, Patchouly, Amber and White Musk.

The “animalis” note is the key to understanding Le Parfum Couture. Upon first sniffing the perfume, even in its vial, I thought there was oud in it. I scanned the notes three times in slight bewilderment, as “oud” wafted out across my desk. But, no, “oud” is not listed anywhere in sight. In utter confusion, I turned to the internet, and was enormously relieved to discover that CaFleureBon‘s Managing Editor, Mark Behnke, had thought the exact same thing. He writes of his experience, and about what that note actually turned out to be:

When I was first wearing Le Parfum Couture Denis Durand I repeatedly mistakenly identified the animalis as oud. Mme Micallef has been so successful in making oud behave in whatever way she needs to achieve a desired effect I thought this was another example. When I did get the note list I had to get a clarification on what animalis is and was told it is a blend of labdanum and castoreum.

Labdanum and castoreum. I would have never guessed it in a million years! I’m very familiar with both notes individually, but the primary essence in Le Parfum Couture Denis Durand doesn’t smell like either one. It most definitely doesn’t smell like labdanum, which is one of my favorite ingredients.

Making matters much more complicated is the argument that CaFleureBon is completely incorrect and that Animalis has absolutely nothing to do with labdanum or castoreum but is, in fact, a trademarked ingredient from the fragrance company Synarome. According to the commentator, “Joe,” on Now Smell This, Animalis is a wholly separate ingredient and a famous perfume “base” that is the key to such scents as Etat Libre d’Orange‘s Vierges et Toreros. The Perfume Shrine article which he cites does indeed give a very different scent description for Animalis, saying that it is the very basis for the descriptive term “animalic” in perfumery and cataloguing its long, “dirty” history in perfumery from vintage Robert Piguet Visa, to being the mystery ingredient responsible for Kouros‘ savage, almost urinous, animalic splendour. Whatever the truth of all this, all I know is that M. Micallef has apparently gone on record as to what that the “Animalis” note is supposed to be.

Honestly, none of this matters one whit to me. Whatever the semantics or technicalities, all I know is that, on my skin, “Animalis” smells like oud — absolutely and exactly, right down to the medicinal facet that agarwood can sometimes reflect. I thought so, CaFleureBon thought so, Now Smell This and others have thought so. Period. Le Parfum Couture is so centered on this one aroma that, for the purposes of this review, I’m simply going to have to refer to it as “oud,” in quotes, because anything else would feel a bit misleading and would create the impression that the perfume smells animalic, “dirty,” urinously leathery, or feral in muskiness. It simply does not.

Le Parfum Couture Denis Durand opens on my skin with a split second blast of pure medicinal “oud” which almost instantly softens under a wave of honey. The “oud” is never just peppered woods, but it doesn’t smell like rubbery, pink bandages or camphor, either. Really, the only way to describe it is medicinal. There are also slightly animalic undertones to the scent, but they are faint. The perfume quickly turns richer, softer, sweeter and heavier, as the medicinal undertones soften a little. The honey note is beautiful; it feels very dark and rich, almost exactly like what you’d smell in a jar. Wisps of rose, cinnamon and tangerine swirl in the background, but they are extremely faint. The primary note is honeyed “agarwood”: rich and potently strong, it is also surprisingly airy in feel.

An hour in, Le Parfum Couture is honey, cinnamon, light ambered musk, and rose — all heavily mixed with “oud.” I never smelled orange blossoms in any distinct way, though there is the faintest suggestion of both the flowers and the fruit lurking behind that wonderful honey note. The latter is my favorite, and it is so photo-realistic that I confess to being driven to make hot, buttered toast slathered with honey. In doing so, I noticed a funny oddity: out of the three different kinds of honey in my pantry, the note in Le Parfum Couture Denis Durand was almost exactly like that in my Mitica Orange Blossom Honey. Make of that what you will.

Despite the strong role of that photo-realistic honey, the perfume smells much more like an oud-centric fragrance than anything else. Throughout its entire development, “oud” sings loudest on stage. Other accords come and go, but they are merely supporting players. One of those is the rose note which starts to become significant around the ninety minute mark. As the honey recedes, the rose steps up to take its place. There is the very lightest hint of cinnamon — which feels a lot more like cardamom, actually — along with an even fainter suggestion of animalic musk. The latter is never skanky, dirty, raunchy, or, indeed, very profound. As a whole, the influences of these notes so minor that Le Parfum Denis Durand smells quite similar to By Kilian‘s Rose Oud — only significantly richer, stronger, and mixed with a large amount of honey.

Three and a half hours in, the perfume starts to shift a little. A beautiful, spicy, creamy sandalwood taps the rose on the shoulder, and steps in to dance with the “oud.” Yes, Le Parfum Couture Denis Durand is a little like the game of musical chairs where only the “oud” remains truly constant and powerful, sitting on a throne in the line-up. The sandalwood is lovely and it softens the “agarwood” note, turning it ambered, golden, and much less medicinal. Instead, it starts to feel a little closer to highly peppered woods. The rich honey and the whisper of cardamom-cinnamon add to the shimmery, amber glow. The rose note is still there, but it flickers in the background, adding its subtle touch to the overall effect.

The perfume doesn’t change much in its final dry-down stage. Around 6.5 hours in, it is mostly “oud” with hints of rose and sandalwood. Later, in its final moments, Le Parfum Couture Denis Durand is just amorphous, dry, woodsy notes and “oud” atop the faintest base of light musk and honey. The cinnamon note, which smells even more like cardamom to me, whispers faintly in the background. And that’s about it. All in all, Le Parfum Couture lasted just over 9.25 hours on my perfume-consuming skin. For much of its development, it was quite a strong scent, though always surprisingly airy and light in feel. It projected a few feet in the first hour, then dropped quite a bit, but Le Parfum Couture only became a skin scent around the 5th hour.

There aren’t a ton of in-depth reviews for Le Parfum Couture Denis Durand out there yet, since it was only just released a few weeks ago. One of the few is an admiring assessment from Angela at Now Smell This who seems to have a considerably different experience. Though Angela also detected the “oud,” she had loads of tangerine at the start and then, later, orange blossom. Here are some snippets from her review:

While Parfum Couture could never be called shy, neither is it the crass, room-hogging perfume I feared. Instead, it’s a warm, easy-to-wear oriental balancing tangerine, honey, and amber with a streak of metallic tang. I bet it will find a lot of fans. I’m one. […]

Parfum Couture’s tangerine and honey leap right out of the fragrance at first, reminding me of Byblos by Byblos (remember that one?) layered over the new Schiaparelli Shocking. I like the combination of sweet and animal that honey gives a fragrance — something about it reminds me of drinking sweetened ice tea. As for the citrus, in the mid-1990s I was obsessed with tangerine-laden fragrances, and I even wore Guépard for a while, despite the cheesy gold and green plastic cage over its bottle. (Sorry, all you old office mates.) Parfum Couture reminds me of those fragrances, but softer and more elegantly blended.

Oud isn’t listed in Parfum Couture’s notes, but I swear I detect it cutting the mouthwatering heft of the tangerine and honey. Or is it the “animalis” listed in the perfume’s notes?¹ Orange blossom adds buzz, and Parfum Couture’s amber is the shimmery rather than cloying sort. I mostly smell the perfume’s patchouli after I’ve worn it several hours and on my clothing the next day, where it clings in a quiet, sexy way.

CaFleureBon was similarly entranced. In fact, I believe the Managing Editor, Mark Behnke, found Le Parfum Couture to be one of the very best Micallef fragrances ever released. In fact, he thought it was so “smoldering” that it would be his pick for a Valentine’s Day scent. His review describes a little of how Le Parfum Couture manifested itself on his skin:

If the rose and animalis was all that was going on in the heart it would be great but a sweet grace note, courtesy of orange blossom and honey, adds a glowing core to the intensity and it feels like the reflection of light off of satin or the shine off a bared shoulder under the spotlights. With such an intense heart it would have been easy to ease up a bit but Mme Micallef keeps the intensity level high as patchouli and amber produce a foundation for sandalwood and white musk to interact with. This base lightens up on the animalic by using the white musk but patchouli, amber, and sandalwood keep the development at a consistent volume right until the end.

Clearly, I had a very different experience from both of them. For me, Le Parfum Couture Denis Durand was primarily an “oud” fragrance, and it was never as complex or “smoldering” on my skin as it seems to have been on others. If it had been, I think I would have been considerably more wow‘d. I would have loved to experience what Angela at Now Smell This encountered since it seems much more nuanced and sexy. Plus, I adore orange blossoms and orange notes. You can’t imagine my enormous disappointment at how little (if at all) each note appeared on my skin. Lastly, as I’ve noted a few times on the blog recently, I have increasingly severe “oud” fatigue as a whole. It is probably the main reason for why, for my own personal use or tastes, I thought Le Parfum Couture was simply pleasant, as opposed to love at first sniff.

That said, most normal people do not test an “oud” fragrance (or two) each and every week, and many have a considerably greater appreciation for the note than I do now. Those who love it would probably greatly enjoy Le Parfum Couture Denis Durand. It has a richness thanks to that beautiful honey note and a quiet spiciness which separates it out from many of the “oud” fragrances with their simple rose accord. Plus, Le Parfum Couture has that lovely stage where the “oud” duets with the sandalwood in quite an entrancing manner. So, if the notes intrigue you, I would definitely encourage you to give it a sniff. Those who aren’t enraptured by Animalis and its oud-like manifestation here may prefer instead to watch the runway defilé for the release of Le Parfum Couture Denis Durand as shown in the YouTube video below.

DISCLOSURE: Sample provided courtesy of M. Micallef Parfums. I do not do paid reviews, and I always tell a company upfront that there is no guarantee of a good review, or any review at all. I make it very clear that my first obligation is to my readers and to be completely truthful as to my thoughts.

DETAILS:

Cost & Availability: Le Parfum Couture Denis Durand is an eau de parfum that comes in a 50 ml/1.7 oz bottle and costs $190. In the U.S., it is available at Luckyscent, along with a sample for $4. Normally, M. Micallef perfumes are also carried at Parfum1, but Denis Durand Couture is not yet listed there. You may want to check back in a few weeks. In Europe, M. Micallef Le Parfum Couture Denis Durand is carried at First in Fragrance where it retails for €145. The full range of M. Micallef fragrances, including the brand new Denis Durand Couture, is available at Paris’ Jovoy Fragrances. In the U.K., Micallef fragrances are usually carried at Fortnum & Mason, but I don’t see Denis Durand Couture listed on their website at the moment as it is so new. In Australia, you can find M. Micallef at Cara & Co in Sydney, but they don’t have an online store yet. In the Middle East, some of the many places where M. Micallef fragrances are available are: all UAE malls and Dubai Duty-Free locations at the airports; Al Hawaj in Bahrain; Mazaya in Cairo Egypt; everywhere in Kuwait; ABC and Beauty Concept in Lebanon; and Pari Gallery and Bleu Salon in Qatar. For all other locations, you can try the Points of Sale locator on the M. Micallef website. If you want to try a sample of the fragrance, you can do so at Lucky Scent at the link listed above which sells a 0.7ml vial for $4.

Perfume Review: Amouage Lyric (Woman)

Posted on May 11, 2013 by Kafkaesque

One of the most popular fragrances from the royal perfume house of Amouage is Lyric Woman (hereinafter just “Lyric”). It is a chypre-oriental eau de parfum that is centered on a dark, dusky rose atop Amouage’s usual base of beautiful, smoky, Omani frankincense. It is a lovely perfume that I enjoyed but, on me, it was actually primarily a ylang-ylang fragrance with rich, custard-y vanilla infused with smoke.

Source: Fragrantica

Lyric was released in 2008, the creation of perfumer, Daniel Maurel. The inspiration was music and, more specifically, the “lyric-spinto voice.” As the Amouage website explains,

Creative Director Christopher Chong has carefully crafted Lyric Woman to continue the music-inspired narrative that started with the launch of Amouage’s Jubilation last year. He explains, “Beyond the transient beauty and purity of Lyric lingers a poignant song without beginning or end.” During the creative process, Chong found inspiration in the beauty and drama of the lyric-spinto voice. From this, the story of Lyric Woman was born: a fragile beauty with a rare, other-worldly talent and her quest for perfection and immortality. Through this story, we are reminded that there is a subliminal beauty in every imperfection.

The fragrance has a complex and sophisticated structure, in which deep, smoky rose takes center-stage in the heart, complimented by dry, floral notes of geranium, jasmine and orris. The spiciness of cinnamon, cardamom and ginger in the top notes lifts the fragrance, while depth is provided by frankincense and wood notes in the base.

In its structure, Lyric is a floral fragrance, but one that introduces a dark intensity and modernity not normally associated with this genre – a perfect illustration of femininity, strength and passion.

Source: “Bonoanimoes” on Basenotes.

The notes as listed on the Amouage‘s website are as follows:

top: Bergamot, Spicy Cardamom, Cinnamon, Ginger
heart: Rose, Angelica, Jasmine, Ylang-Ylang, Geramnium, Orris
base: Oakmoss, Musk, Wood, Patchouli, Vetiver, Sandalwood, Vanilla, Tonka Bean, Frankincense

Lyric opens on my skin with dry citruses infused with oakmoss. There are touches of geranium, spicy cardamom, ginger and the smallest hint of vanilla-infused smoke in the back. The geranium evokes the scent of the fuzzy, furry green leaves, while ginger feels almost pickled, like that in a Japanese sushi restaurant, as opposed to fresh and zesty, or crystallized and candied. The whispers of vanilla smoke are utterly entrancing, especially in their lightness. The note is never sweet or cloying, but airy. It helps counter any dryness from the oakmoss which feels grey like lichen, not brightly green and mossy.

Spirit of a Dying Rose by Vincent Knaus via RealityDefined.com

Throughout it all, swirling like a specter in the background is the gauzy, sheer, airy red rose which initially feels dry, desiccated, dark, sweet and smoked all at once. It’s never the primary focus of the scent in those opening minutes but its form grows more and more substantial with the passing moments. From the merest translucent shadow, it gains body, swirling with the green, almost herbaceous geranium, the dry citruses, the oakmoss, cardamom, and that lovely, delicate vanilla incense. The perfume is beautifully blended, so Lyric Woman feels very much like a harmonious sum total of its individual elements, and the final result is a lovely, floral chypre that is simultaneously dry and a little bit sweet.

Ylang-ylang

My skin generally seems to cycle quickly through notes, always emphasizing those at the heart and base, but, even so, it’s a little bit of a surprise when the ylang-ylang turns up less than five minutes into the perfume’s development and takes over from there. It starts slowly, flickering in the background like a gleam of bright yellow and feeling incredibly buttery, banana-y, custard-y and rich. By the thirty minute mark, the ylang-ylang turns so unctuous that it feels almost a little like coconut at times in its buttered richness. It mixes with the vanilla of the base to create a very rich custard that is almost yolk-like in its richness, but always flecked by the dark, airy smoke of the frankincense.

Source: Soapgoods.com

At first, the ylang-ylang mixes with the subtle rose notes but, soon, it takes the lead completely, becoming the dominant note. Lyric loses its dry citruses. More importantly, the oakmoss recedes to the background where it has an indirect, quiet effect on the fragrance, helping to counter a bit of the richness of the vanilla and ylang-ylang. It is no longer wholly distinctive in its own right and, to be frank, I miss it. Soon, Lyric turns slightly indolic in its rich headiness. Though it’s never sour or plastic-y on me, those who suffer from indoles may want to take heed. (If you’re unfamiliar with Indoles and Indolic fragrances, you can read more about them in the Glossary that is always linked at the top of the page.)

Vanilla Custard.
Source: Sacchef’s Blog.

By the start of the second hour, Lyric is almost entirely ylang-ylang infused with light frankincense smoke atop a base of rich, custardy vanilla. The latter is creamy, luxurious and very comforting. Hints of light roses, creamy woods, oakmoss, and patchouli lurk at the edges. The woody note never feels like the bronzed spiciness of sandalwood, though it does share its creaminess. Instead, it feels more like general, amorphous, almost abstract, beige woods. Yet, none of those supporting players have the slightest chance of countering the ylang-ylang; it just grows deeper as Lyric develops and its indolic nature starts to feel almost vegetal in its richness.

Lyric remains that way on me for most of its development. I even tried Lyric a second time this morning; it’s on me currently as I write this and it is always the same, ylang-ylang dominant story. I would have far preferred the dusky, smoked chypre rose of the opening, but my skin chemistry clearly has other ideas. During that first, full test, Lyric’s drydown began a little after the sixth hour. It turned into a very traditional vanilla accord with some light powder and lingering touches of that airy, light, frankincense smoke. It was a skin scent and seemed, at times, so subtle that I kept thinking it was going to die entirely. But Amouage fragrances are renowned for their longevity and Lyric Woman is no exception. It lasted as a sheer, skin scent for another six hours. All in all, Lyric lasted just over 12.75 hours on my perfume-consuming skin, though only about 4.5 of those hours entailed a strong, noticeable fragrance with projection. On someone with normal skin, I wouldn’t be surprised if Lyric Woman lasted almost a full day.

As with all Amouage fragrances, Lyric is profoundly potent in its opening hours. The perfume wafted around me in a medium-sized cloud at first, projecting a few feet, before softening. By the start of the second hour, the sillage was tamer and Lyric swirled just half a foot beyond my arm. It remained that way for a while, though it weakened with time, especially by the fourth hour. Finally, by the sixth hour, it became the merest gauzy touch right on the skin. As I said earlier, there were moments thereafter where I thought it had died, but its fragrant touch lingered for hours.

My experience with Lyric is absolutely not representative in any way (except perhaps the sillage and longevity). I feel like a completely freakish loon because, almost across the board, everyone has found the perfume to be primarily a rose-centered one with great spiciness. On a rare occasion, someone at Fragrantica will mention ylang-ylang and jasmine, but it is always in the context of the rose.

Only Luca Turin‘s four-star review of Lyric has a brief reference to that vegetal quality that I believe stems from the ylang-ylang. In Perfumes: The A-Z Guide, the perfume critic wrote:

Great fragrances move me (and, I imagine, many others) to a sort of musical resonance. And in perfume as in music, progress largely consists of getting used to one novel dissonance after another. In this context, I can safely say that I have never smelled anything like the chord at Lyric’s chore. It is a rose, to be sure, cleverly extended at one end by a dry, dusty, woody accord in the manner of Lyric’s land of origin, Oman. What happens at the other end if a complete surprise. Where one expects a spicy, earthy uplift in the contemporary manner, there comes instead a plangent, overripe note, the exhalation of forgotten fruit in a sealed room. The effect is initially almost unpleasant but soon becomes celestial. Thelonius Monk would have understood this fragrance instantly.

On me, with my skin that always seems to emphasize the base notes in a perfume, that “plangent, overripe note, the exhalation of forgotten fruit” was clearly from the ylang-ylang. The over-ripeness and vegetal aspects that stem from its heavy indoles took over and dominated over the rose accord, though I never thought it was unpleasant, thanks to the countering effects of the smoky frankincense. And I actually loved that custardy, vanilla base with its flecks of black smoke, even when it turned a little powdery. A few others, however, on Fragrantica and Surrender to Chance seem to find the powdery drydown evocative of an “old lady” scent. I don’t share that impression, but I suppose it depends on your age or on your mental associations.

There is a beautiful review of Lyric Woman from Now Smell This which calls the perfume a “modern classic” and which also helpfully discusses Andy Tauer‘s Incense Rosé as a point of comparison:

[I]f I passed my Lyric-drenched wrist under your nose right now, you would smell the frankincense, spices, and cream, but rose might not be the first note that comes to mind. As for whether or not Lyric is “entirely unprecedented”, I think of Tauer Perfumes Incense Rosé, which is not as creamy and warm as Lyric, but to me is its kissing cousin for sure.

I see Lyric less as music than as the tactile experience of scarlet red silk velvet covered by geranium and cardamom chiffon, dug out of an oak chest long forgotten in the attic. It is the sort of fragrance that would make a good signature scent: it is rich and striking enough to be a brilliant evening scent but, worn judiciously, would work during the day, too. With its bright top, spicy, floral heart, and creamy, woody base it spans the seasons except for the hottest days of summer. It feels lush and original, but not overly edgy. Wearing Lyric, you stand apart, but not too much so. In short, it’s a modern classic.

How I would have loved to experience all that! Despite my very different experience, I thought Lyric Woman was very nice and beautifully crafted. I genuinely enjoyed what I smelled, and I suspect that Lyric could turn quite addictive with repeated wearing because what appeared on my skin was rich, beautifully luxurious, heady, narcotic and very comforting. If Amouage’s prices were less steep, I might almost be tempted, but, at the end of the day, I’m not enough of a ylang-ylang enthusiast for that. However, those who love Amouage and roses may be happy to hear that I found Lyric being sold a great discount this week at one online retailer. (See, Details section, below.)

Have you tried Lyric Woman? If so, how did it manifest itself on your skin? Was it love at first sniff?

DETAILS:

Cost, Availability, Sales & Sets: Lyric Woman in an eau de parfum that comes in two sizes: a 50 ml/1.7 oz bottle that retails for $275 or €200, or a 3.4 oz/100 ml eau de parfum that costs $315 or €235. There is also a Travel Set available which contains 4 x 10ml bottles of Lyric, and those details are below. Thanks to some readers letting me know about LilyDirect, a very reputable online perfume retailer that frequently gives large discounts on Amouage, I have a link to a large 3.4 oz bottle of Lyric Woman that is priced at only $170 instead of $315!!! That is an unbelievable price, especially given the free domestic shipping on orders over $100. Lyric Woman in the large 3.4 oz size is also on sale at Beauty Encounter for a discounted price of $204 instead of $315. That is $111 off, and there is free domestic shipping (with international shipping for a fee). I don’t know how long these special discount prices will last. I should add that I’ve ordered from BeautyEncounter in the past with no problem, as have many of my friends, and they are a very reputable dealer. The smaller 1.7 oz size is also currently on sale at BeautyEncounter for $228.90 instead of $280 (though it should be $275 retail). That’s 18% off with free shipping within the US, but clearly the larger bottle is a better and cheaper deal. Otherwise, your first stop for purchase might be the Amouage website which carries not only the Lyric perfumes but also body lotions and candles.

In the U.S., the authorized Amouage dealer is Parfums Raffy which sells the full set of Lyric Woman products, including the travel sprays that total 40ml in quantity. There is free domestic shipping. Luckyscent carries both sizes of Lyric Woman, but not the travel set. Lyric can also be purchased online at MinNY (only the larger size but also body products like lotion), or the Four Seasons. The Travel set is available on the Amouage website for €160 and on BeautyEncounter for $235. Finally, Parfums Raffy sells a Mini Parfum Set of 6 Amouage fragrances (Lyric, Gold, Dia, Ubar, etc.) in 7.5 ml crystal bottles for $280, and a Six Sample Set of Women’s fragrances in 2 ml vials for $48. (No free shipping for orders below $75.)

Outside the US: In Canada, The Perfume Shoppe offers both sizes of Lyric Woman, along with sampler sets, mini travel sets and body lotions. There is free worldwide shipping, I think. The perfumes are listed at the same price as in the U.S., despite the fact the CAD prices are usually higher, so you may want to drop them an email to inquire. In the UK, Lyric Woman is available at Les Senteurs where it costs £160.00 or £190.00, depending on size. Samples are available for purchase. There is also an Amouage boutique in London. In Germany, Lyric Woman is available at First in Fragrance where it costs €205 or €295.00 (depending on size) with free shipping within the EU and shipping elsewhere for a fee. For other countries, the Amouage website has a “Store Finder” which should, hopefully, help you find the perfume somewhere close to you.

Samples: I obtained my sample of Lyric Woman from Surrender to Chance where prices start at $3.99 for a 1/2 ml vial. The site also sells samples of the Lyric body lotion, and a Sampler Set for 8 Amouage women’s fragrances which starts at $29.99 for 1/2 ml vials. The Parfums Raffy deal may be a much better one, given the 2ml size of those vials, even if it is $48 for just six fragrances.

Review En Bref: Heeley Parfums Cardinal

Posted on May 10, 2013 by Kafkaesque

As always, my Reviews En Bref are for fragrances that — for whatever reason — didn’t warrant one of my full, exhaustive, detailed reviews.

Cardinal is an Oriental eau de parfum from the British-born, Paris-based designer, James Heeley. The perfume and its notes are described on the Heeley website as follows:

Incense enrobed in folds of white linen

A timeless scent built around the traditional incense notes of labdanum, ciste, frankincense and myhr. An air of lightness and purity is portrayed by a note of fresh, clean linen. The association of grey amber, patchouli and vetiver, imparts this perfume with mysticism and a rare and contemporary elegance.

♂ An immaculate young priest.
♀ Auburn hair and milky white skin. Romantic and mystical.

White Linen . Baie Rose . Black Pepper
Labdanum . Frankincense . Myhr
Vetiver . Grey Amber . Patchouli

Fragrantica also includes aldehydes which I think is quite a key component of the fragrance. And, as a side note, “Baie Rose” is another name for pink peppercorns.

Cotton. Source: Hm.com

Mr. Heeley wasn’t kidding about the white linen. Cardinal opens on my skin with linen, followed in its footsteps by frankincense, patchouli and labdanum amber. The latter feels slightly leathery and animalic, though it is muted in nature and completely overwhelmed by the fresh cotton scent. There is also a strong undercurrent of soapy, waxy aldehydes.

Cardinal is quite a cool or cold scent at first, and one which definitely evokes the feeling of an old, stony church with its slightly musty aroma. Within minutes, the patchouli-incense combination grows stronger, and I find it extremely unpleasant. Something about the mix of fresh, white cotton with soap and incense atop a slightly dirty, leathery base of labdanum and patchouli feels incredibly contradictory. Even worse than the discordant aspects, the whole thing smells extremely artificial.

If you’ve read this blog for any amount of time, you’ll know that one of the things that I dislike the most are soapy scents. However, fresh, soapy, artificial, and laundry detergent all combined in one has to be the greatest evil in my eyes. Cardinal hits all my triggers. At the end of the first hour, it is all soap, soapy labdanum, white cotton, incense and…. Bounce. For those of you outside of America, Bounce is a fabric softener that often comes in sheets which you throw into the dryer to add freshness and to prevent static or lint. The fabric softener sheets come in a variety of scents, including Fresh Linen!

My tolerance for extreme aldehydes or general soapiness as a perfume note is extremely low. My tolerance for soapy, fresh scents that replicate fabric softener is practically nonexistent. For hours and hours, Cardinal wafted out varying degrees of that terrible combination. There was a growing sweetness to the soapy, fresh, incense-y, Bounce-heavy, cotton hot mess as time passed, thanks to the myrrh and labdanum. Making it all worse somehow is the impression of a white musk accord which appears about 90 minutes in. Cardinal’s artificial discordance is further cemented by a synthetic undertone which gave me a throbbing headache and a burning tightness high up in my nose.

Cardinal was such a painful experience that I actually considered scrubbing it entirely, but I stuck it out. All 9.75 hours of it. At no point did Cardinal twist, morph, change, or reflect other facets. It was linear all the way and, while linear is fine if you love the notes in question, I found its singularity to be an incredible ordeal. I suppose I should be glad that Cardinal was a light, airy fragrance but, unfortunately, it was still sufficiently strong enough for me not to feel a huge amount of gratitude for that fact.

Cardinal is often compared to Comme de Garçon‘s Avignon perfume. I haven’t tried the latter, but for those of you who are curious, Now Smell This has a comparison that may be useful:

Like Avignon, Cardinal starts off rather strong, but it has nothing like Avignon’s uncompromisingly gloomy stance: it is brighter, smoother, and not quite so bone-dry, although I wouldn’t go so far as to call it sweet. The dry down is soft and mildly earthy, and like many incense-focused fragrances, has a meditative quality.

Is church incense really church incense if it isn’t brooding and dark? Well, if Avignon is your idea of perfection, you might answer no, but if Avignon was too much of a good thing for you — or if, like me, you think there just can’t be too many variations on incense — Cardinal might be just what you’re looking for.

I haven’t looked up a ton of other reviews for Cardinal, but those few that I have read never seem to mention the damn linen. I’m baffled. The cotton note is, to me, a far greater characteristic than the incense. It’s even explicitly mentioned on the company’s website. A few commentators on Fragrantica mention the soapiness — and one calls it a soapier version of Avignon — but absolutely no-one talks cottony freshness or fabric softener. All I can say is that my skin clearly must amplify the note, along with the soapiness.

I know Cardinal is much-loved amongst those who enjoy incense fragrances. I love incense, too. Unfortunately, Cardinal had me praying for deliverance…

DETAILS:

Cost & Availability: Cardinal is an eau de parfum that comes in 3.4 oz/100 ml bottle. It is available from the Heeley website where it costs €120, or from Luckyscent where it costs $180. There are undoubtedly numerous other online retailers which also carry the fragrance, but you’ll have to forgive my lack of interest in looking up the links. I obtained my sample from Surrender to Chance where prices start at $3.99 for a 1 ml vial.

Perfume Review: Vero Profumo Rubj Eau de Parfum

Posted on May 8, 2013 by Kafkaesque

A “ravished ballerina” is perhaps the best known description for Rubj (pronounced as “Ruby”) Eau de Parfum from Vero Profumo, a cult favorite that is hugely adored amongst perfumistas. That evocative summation from Now Smell This was only the first of many admiring reviews which have since followed. So, I fully expect to be tarred and feathered when I say that I absolutely hated Rubj. It is quite a shock to me because orange blossom fragrances are amongst my favorites, I don’t have huge issues with cumin, and I simply adored Onda by the same, very talented, extremely original perfumer. Alas, on my skin, Rubj was primarily and mainly the scent of sweaty feet, combined with rancid body odor.

Vero Profumo (sometimes written with odd punctuation as “.vero.profumo.“) is a Swiss niche perfume line that was established in 2007 with three pure parfums called Onda, Kiki, and Rubj. Vero Kern, the founder and nose behind Vero Profumo, explains on her website that eroticism and originality were the goals behind each one. In 2010, the fragrances were released in eau de parfum concentration. They were not simply a milder form of the originals but, rather, slightly altered versions. Fragrantica provides Ms. Kern’s explanation of the key differences:

The new perfumes are not the diluted version of the extracts. […] In order to render the scents lighter and easier to wear, the compositions have been simplified; yet that “je ne sais quoi” unmistakably characterizing the extracts is still clearly there. “I replaced the animalic notes with the unique scent of the passionfruit – says Vero Kern – I personally love it very much and think that it lends a sensual and erotic lightness to the composition”.

Luckyscent provides the following notes for Rubj Eau de Parfum which is categorized on Fragrantica as a “floral oriental”:

Bergamot, mandarin, neroli, passion fruit, cumin, orange flower absolute, tuberose, basil, cedar, oak moss, musk.

I tried Rubj twice — three times if you’re including the fact that I gave it one more attempt this morning as I sat down to write this review. The first time, I applied the equivalent of two small sprays, only via dab method. The second time, I increased the quantity to about 3.5 good sprays. With the greater quantity, I could detect far more nuances, but the first time, my experience was almost entirely sweaty feet, followed later by rancid, sour, stale, musky body odor with just occasional hints of orange blossom lurking in the background. From start to finish, that was about it. So, this review will recount my experiences the second time around.

Rubj opened on my skin with a breathtakingly ethereal bouquet of orange: orange blossoms; delicate, but tart and tangy, baby mandarins; juicy orange meat; slightly dry neroli; and a soupçon of tuberose. It sits atop a base of light cedar, infused with basil and salty, fresh, brightly green oakmoss. It was absolutely beautiful. And it lasted all of about 15 seconds….

Passion fruit. Source: fo-od.co.uk.

Almost immediately thereafter, cumin and passion fruit explode upon the scene. My God, is it brutal! Filled with animalic notes and a very skanky musk, the cumin collides with the wet, earthy, gooey, over-ripe, indolic passion fruit to create one very unmistakable scent: sweaty feet. I cannot get over it and, as the smell grows stronger and stronger, an instinctive shudder wracks my body. Soon, something else gets added to the mix: body odor. It is sour, stale, and absolutely rancid in its muskiness. In gyms all across the world, men have bags filled with items reeking of this scent. Granted, the gym bags don’t usually also have a whiff of salty orange blossoms lurking underneath, but it’s close enough.

Source: 941foot.com

For the next two hours, the essential core of Rubj doesn’t change significantly on my skin. At times, the basil is a bit more noticeable; at others, the saltiness of the oakmoss is more predominant. Yet, at all times, the dominant elements are that brutal cumin combined with the skankiness of the passion fruit. By the start of the third hour, however, tuberose rises to the surface, and Rubj turns into a combination of tuberose and animalic, cumin-infused body odor with a hint of tart, juicy oranges behind it. The overall effect is simultaneous sour, fetid, and over-ripe. There were more than a few moments where my skin was radiating out the scent of unwashed, dirty, caked panties. I don’t even dare post a photo symbolizing what Rubj calls to mind! I’m not a prude but, frankly, I cannot imagine a circumstance where I would want to go out in public smelling like this.

Vero Kern says on the very first page of Vero Profumo’s website: “I love everything that reminds of the smell of skin.” And her replication of that scent was glorious in Onda EDP which I adored passionately, in part, because of how it evokes the smell of skin. There, it felt fresh and sweet, and, as I wrote in my review, conjured up the slightly heated aroma of skin when you’re intertwined with your lover in the early moments of intimacy. With Rubj, however, the scent as it manifested itself on my skin was closer to that of unwashed genitalia. The smell of skin, way, way, way after love-making is over, if you will.

Source: Sodahead.com

At the start of the sixth hour, and until the final traces of the fragrance are gone from skin, Rubj returns back to animalic, dirty, raunchy musk with a light touch of florals. There is tuberose but, primarily now, orange blossoms. Neither has the faintest chance against the smell of body odor and sweaty feet. All in all, Rubj EDP lasted 8.5 hours on my perfume-consuming skin at the greater dosage and 7 hours with the lesser one. The sillage was never enormous or powerful at any time — a fact for which I am most grateful. Rubj always was soft in terms of projection, and became close to the skin approximately 3.5 hours into its development at the higher dosage and 2 hours at the lower one. As a whole, it is a surprisingly airy, light perfume in texture and feel.

As I noted at the start of the review, Rubj EDP is a hugely adored cult favorite. The review from Angela at Now Smell This that began the “ravished ballerina” associations calls it “innocent and carnal,” as well as “very, very sexy.” Two gushing reviews at Luckyscent go further:

Goodness, someone’s been a naughty girl. This is the most frankly sexual scent I have ever smelled. It has a heavy narcotic quality that is sleepy and langorous. Heavy, intense orange blossom over a musk that is like nothing I’ve every smelled before (in a perfume). This is glamorous, old school, femme fatale. I realize I’m babbling, but it has scrambled my brains. Do try, do try, do try this beauty.

I love the extrait to death but find it a bit overwhelming at times. I love its mouthwatering tartness, indolic jasmine and civet base; but that can get a bit too much. The EDP on the other hand is, I find, to be quite different. Opens with a surprising grapefruit-like citrus as opposed to the tartness of berries that conjure up images of scarlet rubies. The EDP is more of a suave, maroon linen cloth. It is much airier and greener, giving it an entirely different beauty that is much more approachable than the extrait. It is still somewhat suggestive due to the discrete use of cumin. Deceptively gorgeous.

If only I had experienced a discreet use of cumin! How I wish I could have experienced the lovely “spring bouquet” mentioned by one person on Fragrantica, or the orange blossom extravaganza adored by others. Instead, my experience is much closer to that of a number of Fragrantica commentators who had a less than enchanting experience. One commentator describes Rubj as: “Tuberose and cumin. Didn’t sit well with me – an overblown tuberose with a B.O undertone.” Another calls it “medicinal” tuberose, and a third writes about “a smelly armpit kinda smell. it’s kinda like cumin-body odor over a slightly floral scent.” But I relate to, and feel most strongly for, “catbiscuit” who wrote:

I fully expect to be punished for my review here but as long my penalty doesn’t involve being doused in Rubj EDP I think I will be okay.

I have worked really hard to like this perfume with multiple skin tests and a paper test in case my skin was distorting the fundamentals of the creation. I even turned on the air-conditioner in case the ambient heat was the problem.

To no avail, Rubj EDP still smells for all the world like the skin is oozing the waste product of last night’s champion indian curry banquet out through its pores in rivulets of warm sweat. Passionfruit-basil-tuberose I can pick them up but the whole is greater than the sum of its parts.

It isn’t until the musk enters in the drydown (on a skin test) that Rubj truly defies belief though. It has that peppery, fruity, musky male odour found emanating from a healthy scrotum after a sweaty day’s work. As a heterosexual woman this is enjoyable in small doses and infiniately superior to the curried sweat accord but still mind-boggling to say the least.

Good God, is that accurate! Well, she and I can be pilloried together — so long as the punishment is never more Rubj.

DETAILS:

Cost & Availability: The Rubj fragrance being reviewed here is only the Eau de Parfum version and it is available at Luckyscent for $220 for a 50 ml/1.7 oz bottle. (The Vero Profumo website does not seem to sell the perfumes.) Outside of the US, the Vero Profumo Facebook page offers a whole list of European retailers from Kiev, Russia, to Oslo, Norway, and Italy. It also adds: “Since 2010 distributed worldwide by Campomarzio70 in Rome Italy, in selective boutiques and perfumeries such as ROJA DOVE, Harrods Urban Retreat London, JOVOY Paris, Parfums Rares and many more. Campomarzio70, marketing@campomarzio70.it will inform you where you find the nearest retailer in your country.” I checked the website for Campomarzio70 and it doesn’t seem to sell the perfumes online, since I could find no “online cart” (so to speak), no pricing options or no way to purchase the perfumes, but you can try to check for yourself. In the UK, you can find all Vero Profumo perfumes at Harrod’s Roja Dove Haute Parfumerie, but there is no online website through which you can purchase perfumes. (It is not the same site as the Harrod’s website.) At Jovoy Paris, Rubj retails for €165. In the Netherlands, you can find it at Leanne Tio Haute Parfumerie where it costs €170. Germany’s First In Fragrance carries not only the complete Vero Profumo line but also offers sample sets. They sell Rubj Eau de Parfum for €150. They ship throughout the world. As for samples, I obtained mine from Surrender to Chance as part of Vero Profumo Three-Perfume Sample Set (Onda, Rubj, and Kiki); the set is only for the EDP concentration and prices begin $13.99 for a 1/2 ml vial of each. Surrender to Chance doesn’t sell Rubj EDP individually but it does sell the Pure Parfum for $9.99 for a 1/4 ml vial, $19.98 for a 1/2 ml vial, and up.