Reminiscence Patchouli & Elixir de Patchouli

I thought I’d begin my patchouli series at the beginning with the referential benchmark perfume which started it all. It was 1970 when Reminiscence Paris released Patchouli, the fragrance which would be forever tied to their name in many people’s minds. A true, dirty, woody patchouli, Reminiscence’s eau de toilette was very much a product of its times, and embodies all that the negative associations with the note: the “Summer of Love,” dirty hippies, and a “head-shop” earthiness. Yet, Reminiscence’s Patchouli remains a cult hit and, for many, the standard by which all other scents in the genre are measured. For a few of my friends, the perfume is known merely as “Reminiscence,” as if there were nothing else. I myself call it the same thing. So, to avoid endless redundancy in talking about both the note and the perfume name, I’ll simply refer to the scent from now on as “Reminiscence.”

Source: inthe-r.com

Source: inthe-r.com

In 2007, the company issued a flanker called Elixir de Patchouli. Though there have been a few Reminiscence spin-offs of the 1970 original, the Elixir is an eau de parfum that is intended to be a deeper, richer version of Patchouli, a daughter more than a cousin. The two fragrances seem largely alike on the surface, especially when you spray on a lot. They both open as extremely boozy, cognac-like patchoulis, but they diverge later on to some extent. However, if you apply a minimal quantity, the differences between the Reminiscence and the Elixir are much more noticeable. I thought I would analyse each one in turn.

PATCHOULI:

Source: Miriam London

Source: Miriam London

Patchouli is an eau de toilette which Reminiscence describes as an “Oriental Woody” with the following olfactory pyramid:

Top and Heart Notes :

Woody (Essential Oil Virginia Cedar, Essential Oil Javanese Patchouli, Essential Oil Haitian Vetiver, Essential Oil Australian Sandalwood)

Base Notes :

Ambery (Spanish Labdanum Absolute)

Sweet (Madagascan Vanilla Absolute, Tonka Bean Absolute),

Balsamic (Tolu Balm Resinoid),

Musky (White Musk)

If you apply a lot of Reminiscence, its opening is all boozy cognac followed by hints of dark chocolate. Four big smears creates a potent, forceful, truly intense cloud of dark patchouli where the aged cognac essentially trumps all for a good portion of the opening 15-minutes. However, I think the perfume’s true characteristics and nuances are most evident with a lesser, perhaps more normal dosage, so my breakdown will talk about what the fragrance is like with 2 big smears which would be the equivalent of 2 small sprays. Given the famed potency of Reminiscence in its opening stage, I’m not sure anyone would ever apply more than 2 small sprays anyway.

Reminiscence opens on my skin as a powerful force-field of chewy, earthy, leathery sweetness infused with smoky cedar. The immediate impression is of dark patchouli that is sweet, spicy, and musky, with hints of dry woods, and smoke. More significant, perhaps, is a note that can only be described as a wet, mushy, salty touch, almost like ambergris. To my surprise, Reminiscence is surprisingly sheer for such a massively strong perfume, and feels as though it has no weight at all.

Red clay river bank. Source: panoramio.com

Red clay river bank. Source: panoramio.com

There is a definite greenness underlying the dark brown, red, black notes. The perfume makes me imagine a wet, terracotta-brown, sloping, river bank of musky earth at the base of a big cedar tree. Out of the mushy soil sprout dark green leaves that smell a little medicinal. Yet, there is also sweetness in the air. From afar, the patchouli smells like smoky, bitter-sweet chocolate toffee with spices, leather, a whisper of nuttiness, and a whole lot of funk. Up close, however, the patchouli is primarily woody and dry in nature. There are also clearly synthetics in the base, something that eventually gives me a little bit of a headache. I suspect it’s my nemesis, the white musk.

Ten minutes in, Reminiscence starts to slowly shift. The chocolate rises to the surface. It’s dark but semi-sweet, with an almost expresso-like undertone. The vetiver soon explodes in full force, smelling as smoked as the cedar that it joins, and the two together cut through Reminiscence’s sweetness. They add a definite dry, forest feel to the visuals of wet, red earth. As the smoked vetiver and dry cedar bloom, so do the dark, green patchouli leaves, turning very medinal and camphorated. I don’t have my sample of Serge LutensBorneo 1834 to compare to Reminiscence side by side, but there are definite similarities in the mentholated notes. However, the Reminiscence seems more heavily dominated by the smoked vetiver and cedar than the Lutens. It is stronger in smell, but sheerer in feel, and it also seems dirtier.

Source: thecandyfan.com

Source: thecandyfan.com

The Reminiscence smells a lot like chilled peppermint and bitter chocolate with heavy amounts of smoky vetiver and cedar. In some ways, it reminds me of the American sweet, a York Peppermint Pattie, only much drier and woodier. I find myself oddly apathetic to it all, perhaps because I wish there were more sweetness, and much more weight. It doesn’t feel molten, thick and opaque, no matter how strong it may be up close.

The projection isn’t enormous either, though you may get fooled by the strength of the perfume’s notes up close. (With 4 enormous smears, however, the projection is nuclear, and the fragrance can be smelled across the room.) Yet, for all that the sillage is average with a low dose, the Reminiscence still sends little tendrils into the air around you, weaving a dark spell that is a mix of sweetness, earthiness and dry, smoked woods.

Source: pixabay.com

Source: pixabay.com

After 20 minutes, Reminiscence begins to transition. The medicinal, mentholated aspect to the funk becomes stronger, and the perfume definitely seems like something suited to the ’70s or to the hippies at Woodstock. I like parts of it, and others I don’t. The synthetic clang in the base gives me a headache, and the notes are too intensely mentholated for my tastes. I smell like a bitter, dark chocolate version of a York Peppermint Patty, mixed with an athlete’s muscle rub, and a hefty dose of smoked, dark vetiver. The cedar pops in and out, lending even more woody dryness whenever it appears.

I think people who are used to a much sweeter, more modern patchouli fragrance where the note is infused with vanilla from the start may get a little bit of a shock to their system at the medicinal funk and vetiver woodiness of the Reminiscence. This is definitely patchouli, yes, but it is a significantly darker, more bitter, medicinal camphorated version than many of its descendants from other brands.

Source: pl.123rf.com

Source: pl.123rf.com

It isn’t until the start of the second hour that Reminiscence pipes down a little. The vanilla suddenly appears, and it changes the scent quite dramatically. The perfume is increasingly a soft, balmy, mellow patchouli atop a light vanilla base infused by cedar and vetiver. The bitter dark chocolate has turned to milk chocolate, and the medicinal aspects are diffused, returning to a pleasant peppermint note. The sillage drops, the notes blend into each other, the perfume is sweeter, and the whole thing feels even gauzier. Around 90-minutes in, Reminiscence is a sheer, spicy, creamy patchouli infused with sweetness, smoky woods and vanilla.

At the end of the third hour, Reminiscence is a total skin scent, and a mere blur of ambered sweetness that just barely smells of patchouli. I have the impression that the fragrance has vanished in areas, and I’m profoundly dubious that it’s actually going to last. To my surprise, however, Reminiscence hangs on, though it turns increasingly vanilla-oriented in focus. About 5.5 hours in, it’s almost all vanilla with just the faintest hint of patchouli and cocoa powder. It finally dies completely around 7.5 hours from the first spray, leaving as a mere vanilla blur.

At double the dosage, Reminiscence has differences in notes, sillage and longevity. The sillage still drops at the end of the first hour, but it takes two hours in total before the fragrance begins to soften and mellow out. The Reminiscence still becomes a skin scent at the end of the third hour, but the total duration is considerably extended to roughly 11.75 hours in length.

The major differences in smell are most noticeable in the opening blast which is suddenly boozy, like aged Armagnac brandy or cognac, in a way that was completely absent at the lower, normal amount. The other differences are primarily of degree. The Reminiscence becomes even more overtly medicinal and dirty with the larger dose, and the fragrance remains that way for a longer period of time. It takes almost 3 hours from the start for the mentholated, earthy, medicinal funk to mellow out, and for the vanilla to soften the patchouli. Oddly, the fragrance takes on a more ambered labdanum undertone at the double dose, and around the middle of the third hour. It’s less vanilla-centered quite so soon, more golden and soft. Eventually, though, Reminiscence eventually ends up the exact same way, as vanilla with patchouli and cocoa powder, then just vanilla in its final moments.

Source: urlm.co

Source: urlm.co

As regular readers know, I’ve been on a hunt for a replica of my holy grail patchouli scent that I wore when I was 14-years old, and which I thought was from the French jewellery house, Ylang-Ylang. It as a glorious dark patchouli with Mysore sandalwood, vanilla, and a light floral touch. Lately, I’ve been wondering if my memory was off, and my holy grail scent was really from Reminiscence. After all, both are jewellery houses started in the South of France, with a similar aesthetic and look. Was I merely confusing the two? I can visualize the store in Monte-Carlo down to a T, but had I gotten the name wrong all this time? I don’t think so, but, when I asked a childhood friend from Monte-Carlo about Ylang-Ylang and a patchouli scent, she said, “It has to be Reminiscence.”

So, when I was in Paris, I took her to the store to see if Reminiscence was the same scent I remember. We sprayed it on our wrists, and I was sniffing mine when she started to shake her head. “This can’t be right,” she said. “It didn’t smell like this. I can’t forget the smell, since half the girls in my high school wore Reminiscence. And this isn’t it!” I asked the sales assistant if the fragrance had been changed, only to receive vehement denials. I don’t believe her. My original favorite had a heavy sandalwood aroma, and while I’m still convinced my holy grail came from “Ylang-Ylang” not Reminiscence, their fragrance also had Mysore sandalwood. Now, however, the perfume lists “Australian sandalwood” as one of its notes. I could not detect sandalwood in any way in the modern Reminiscence Patchouli that I tested, perhaps because the Australian version is utter crap, bland as hell, and isn’t real sandalwood. (Sorry, I know I sound like the biggest snob alive when it comes to this issue, but the two things truly are not alike!)

My memory aside, my friend is convinced that Reminiscence has changed from the fragrance she knew so well — and she’s not the only one. On Surrender to Chance, someone wrote the following comment:

I wore this yummy fragrance over 20 years ago and am assuming they changed the formula….it does not smell like it used to and my family agrees:( so bummed out[.]

Reminiscence Patchouli is perfectly fine, but I found myself strangely apathetic about it. I don’t know why because, in some ways, it’s really quite nice at a higher dosage: the sharpness of the synthetic musk in the base is hidden; the boozy cognac at the top is pretty, as is the amber that shows up later, and the longevity is much improved.

I think the perfume is simply too mentholated at one stage for my personal tastes, too bitter, and with too much smoky vetiver. I need a counterbalance to all that dry woodiness, and much more sweetness to dilute the medicinal tone. Later, when the sweetness does arrive, and the camphor retreats, the fragrance is simply too wispy in feel. I hate how it goes from one extreme (potency), to the other (wispy, sheer skin scent) as quickly as it does, and I don’t approve of the fragrance’s lightweight feel in general.

Sometimes, the original benchmark classic cannot be improved upon, as vintage Opium demonstrates full well. Occasionally, however, modern successors take the blueprint set by the pioneers, and make it much better. I think Reminiscence’s Patchouli falls into the latter category. I’m know it was innovative for its time, and I feel it was probably better before it was reformulated, but the current version is far from perfect, and I think there are better patchouli fragrances on the market. Profumum‘s Patchouly definitely comes to mind, as do a few scents I will write about later this week.

A number of readers on Fragrantica don’t share my opinion. Take the issue of longevity and sillage. The majority (10) vote for “very long lasting,” followed by “long lasting,” while the sillage votes are split with 10 votes for “enormous” and 10 for “heavy.” Almost all the comments on the site are very positive, with a few comparing the fragrance favorably to patchouli niches from Montale, Micallef, and Molinard:

  •  I absolutely loved the clean balminess of Pathcouli. That’s certainly the next best thing to Montale‘s Patchouli Leaves which I declared as my number one. I’ll not compare the two here though. In its own right, Reminiscence’s Patchouli is one of the best, cleanest, dreamiest patchouli fragrances you can ever try. No sharpness, no mustyness, no zesty/citrusy or artificial extra notes whatsoever… That’s the real stuff (some good quality patchouli oil) which has a distinctive “oily” smell reminding me of pure unadultered olive oil. In this respect it’s certainly “exotic”, quite Middle Eastern indeed[.] [Emphasis added by me to name.]
  • This one opens with incense shop and dry cedar wood. Then, a creamy vanilla and praline ensues and tempers the rather moody patch note at the bottom. It’s like teleporting from a Moroccan side street to a Venetian cafe for gelato. I thought at first this one was bitter, but comparing it to Molinard Patchouli and Montale, it’s actually on the sweet side. And I really, really, love it. It is a hippie gourmand essence, but harkens back to some more innocent and hopeful hippie hour; before 1968, say.  [Emphasis added by me to name.]
  • A very beautiful and quite heavy patchouli on a woody base.It smells quite like patchouli oil,very concentrated and powerful. Reminds me of Micallef Patchouli,but Reminiscence’s Patchouli is way stronger and darker.The drydown is a bit sweet patchouli with wood.A hippie patchouli,all the way!It has very good lasting power and sillage! [Emphasis added by me to name.]
  • I think that this is the smoothest of [Reminiscence’s] patchouli blends, and I get a strong, golden, amber-y labdanum entwined with the soft, warm, earthy-resinous patchouli. It has a bit of vanilla sweetness to it, but is mostly a warm, rich, golden, resinous scent. The patchouli smells expensive and smooth, not at all dirty or sharp. It’s dark, golden, and decadent, and I fall in love with it again every time I wear it.
  • This is a rather Nice Patchouli . starts of kind of earthy and the smell of Earth and weth moss came to mind. […]  But then after a little Wild the other notes comes in to make a Symphony .its still very Earth, Smokey, rather hippi like some state before me. […]  i think you must be used to dry Patcholie to be able to pull of this kind of scent.
  • One of the most beautiful patchouli. [¶] A piece of art, strong in the opening, woody, earthy and wet in the middle notes, sweet and vanillic in the drydown, musky the day after. [¶] A deep and warm fragrance you can wear in cold weather and in summer’s evenings. [¶] Pefect and unisex, oriental sensuality and spirituality in a bootle.
  • you spray it.. black magic comes out.. engulfs you..scares you for a second..be strong ..take it..then ..you feel earth moves under your feet..it shatters you.. reminds you of your roots.. and where you came from.. and where you will eventually end..it smells like earth.. like wet earth.. so earthy.. ambery.. PATCHOULI.

I seem to be in the minority, as you can see, especially with regard to the issue of density and longevity. I do think that, if you want a perfectly serviceable, hardcore, dark and dirty patchouli fragrance, Reminiscence probably cannot be beaten for the price. You can buy a 50 ml bottle at various discount sites for between $57-$70. It’s a decent fragrance, and I even briefly considered getting a bottle for myself, despite the moderate longevity on my skin and the unfortunate sillage. At the end of the day, however, I simply can’t get past my feeling that Reminiscence’s Patchouli is merely quite average.

ELIXIR DE PATCHOULI:

Source: Fragrantica.

Source: Fragrantica.

In 2007, Reminiscence came out with an eau de parfum of its trademark scent which it calls, alternatively, Elixir Patchouli, Elixir de Patchouli, or Inoubliable Elixir Patchouli. I’ll just call it “Elixir” for short. Reminiscence describes the fragrance as “the intense version of Patchouli,” and says it has the same notes.

With an average dose (2 small sprays), the Elixir opens on my skin with patchouli that is sweeter, warmer and much less bitter. There is noticeable vanilla up top, as well as labdanum amber. The fragrance has much more of a caramel smell at first, than dark chocolate, though that arrives later. There is also a distinctly nutty, cognac-like whiff, though it’s subtle. It certainly wasn’t there with the Patchouli Eau de Toilette at a lower dosage. Another difference is that the synthetic musk isn’t apparent in the base. As a whole, the Elixir feels richer, smoother, less dry, less sharp, and less woody.

Cypress swamp. Photo: Don Mace Agency. Source: conservationfund.org

Cypress swamp. Photo: Don Mace Agency. Source: conservationfund.org

Ten minutes in, the Elixir changes. First, there is a subtle undertone of wet tobacco, the sort of tobacco that some Americans chew. Then, the fragrance takes on a strange tinge that I can only describe as marshy — like murky, slightly fetid pond water. In my notes, I first wrote “rancid,” before crossing it out, as a more bitter, slightly rotting, fecund, wet earthiness appears. It reminds me a bit of the stagnant green water left in a vase of flowers after a week. At this point, I wrote “rancid” again, along with “rotting cedar?” and “pond algae.” The combination of the vetiver with the earthier aspects of the patchouli and the dry, smoked cedar must be to blame. Whatever the reason, I’m not very enthusiastic about it. Thankfully, the accord lurks under the top layer, lasts only about 40 minutes, and is not a dominant aspect of the Elixir with a small amount. However, if you spray on a lot of the perfume, then it’s extremely noticeable.

Thirty minutes in, the Elixir is a wet, musky, earthy patchouli scent with sweetness, chewed tobacco, smoky vetiver, dry cedar, and hints of caramel labdanum. The medicinal, mentholated note rises to the surface, as does the bitter chocolate. The fragrance follows much of the same olfactory path as the Patchouli eau de toilette, right down to the drop in sillage at the start of the second hour and a lack of opaqueness.

The two fragrances only diverge in path at the start of the fifth hour when the fragrance turns into a labdanum amber front and center, with vanilla and patchouli-milk chocolate tonalities lurking down below. In its final moments, the Elixir is merely a blur of amber with patchouli and a hint of dry woodiness, fading away around the middle of the 8th hour. With the same quantity, the Eau de Toilette version had ended an hour soon, around the 7.5 hour mark, though it felt translucent and close to dying at the start of the 4th hour on my skin.

CognacWith a much bigger quantity (4 big sprays), the Elixir opens as a lovely boozy cognac. It’s powerfully aged, rich, sweet, and potent patchouli, followed by labdanum amber, vanilla, cedar, and vetiver. It’s smoky, sweet, leathery, musky and boozy. The amber note is particularly nice as it feels like ambergris with its musky, wet richness. Then, the marshy undertone returns, along with that weird funk to the vetiver. The wet pond was back, but it was initially fleeting amidst all the cognac booziness.

Once the boozy note recedes at the start of the second hour, then the pond element returns in much greater force, and the patchouli now fully takes on that weird, “off,” somewhat rancid, dank tonality. The stale, chewed tobacco undertone is back as well. The two notes are infused with peppermint chocolate, and the whole combination feels like a very difficult, very wet take on patchouli. Yet, for all that strange tinge in the base, the Elixir is also a sweet, spicy, slightly smoky scent full of real patchouli richness. The mint notes are milder, the subsequent mentholated tonality is tamer and much less camphorous, and the whole thing is much smoother.

Source: pixabay.com

Source: pixabay.com

Ninety minutes in, the fetid vetiver pond fades away, and Elixir is a creamy chocolate-peppermint patchouli with vanilla. It’s much less bitter, dark, and woody than its eau de toilette predecessor. It’s also got significantly more projection, though that starts to soften around this time as well.

Slowly, the labdanum amber starts to take over. By the middle of the third hour, the Elixir is labdanum, patchouli, and vanilla, with soft flickers of cedar. There is a light, greenish woodiness in the base that I assume is the Australian “sandalwood,” but there is also a very pretty spiciness that has appeared. It’s very dry and dusty, almost like cinnamon that has been left at the bottom of some attic drawer. Once in a blue moon, that oddly rancid, woody element pops back up, along with a touch of sour muskiness, the old marshiness, and a hint of something medicinal.

Generally, however, the Elixir is an amber-patchouli scent with dry woody elements and vanillic sweetness. The fragrance turns softer, milder, and much sheerer as time goes by. At the end of the 6th hour, it becomes a wispy blur of labdanum amber with patchouli, followed by small traces of an indistinct woody dryness and just a whisper of vanilla. The Elixir remains that way until the very end, 10.75 hours from the start, when it’s the thinnest smear of something sweet, golden, and dry.

I liked the amber and cognac parts of the Elixir quite a bit, but there were elements that were off-putting for very different reasons than the original Reminiscence Patchouli. I’ve tried the Elixir a number of times, at different dosages, and always found it too sheer and with that strange, rancid, vetiver-cedar swamp nuance. Both the strength and duration of the note varied, depending on the quantity applied, but it was always there to some degree or another.

I also wasn’t impressed by the Elixir’s overall sillage which is generally moderate to weak on my skin, except for the fragrance’s opening hour or if a significant quantity is applied. That said, the Elixir has much better sillage than the regular Reminiscence patchouli which was pretty abysmal on my skin after the first hour unless a huge amount was used. On Fragrantica, the votes for the Elixir’s projection are tied, with 7 choosing “moderate,” and 7 choosing “enormous.”

With regard to longevity, the regular Reminiscence Patchouli may actually beat out the Elixir if a significant quantity is used. There were two instances where the regular Patchouli was still noticeable in parts after the 11th hour with 4 doses, while the Elixir seemed to have faded away almost entirely after the 9th hour, except for one small spot on my skin. It might simply be a misperception due to the soft sillage. On Fragrantica, the Elixir’s longevity is voted as “very long lasting” by a landslide over all the other categories. I clearly have very odd skin.

On Fragrantica, people love the Elixir, just as they did its predecessor. The comments are almost all raves, with one poster providing her thoughts on how it compares to the eau de toilette version:

i love this amazing patchouli. […] its similar to the older original patchouli […] but the elixer has a more vibrant vibes to it.. its a bit more alive.. more hip.. more aromatic.. its of course still that same old earthy patchouli ..yet its more mesmerising.. more sensual.. more beautiful ..i think it really depends on your skin […] its an amazing.. dark ..mysterious.. full bodied.. warm… sexual.. strong.. balmy ..almost crazy ..its so smokey.. […] its so cozy ..something in it just relax me.. if you get over the initial shock of the patchouli strength and all..it takes a little getting used to ..maybe a lot..!  […] it smells like hippie princess and patchouli.. and its just mesmerising […]

Another poster compared it to well-known fragrances from other houses:

It opens with a swirl of amber and a chocolate-like note, very gourmand, – but not sweet – almost similar to Mugler’s Angel. Minutes apart you get a deep smoky note, very leather type in the league of Piguet‘s Bandit and Tauer’s Lonestar Memories. Then a earthy note peeps leaving a trail of soft but not tamed patchouly. It’s like resting after a crazy initial dance. [Emphasis to names added by me.]

Oddly enough, I do see how the smoky vetiver could evoke Bandit‘s greenness and leather feel, or how the cedar may bear some resemblance to that in the Tauer fragrance.

Speaking of comparisons to other fragrances, 10 people compared the Elixir to Montale‘s Patchouli Leaves, while 10 others thought it was just like Les Nereides Patchouli Antique. I have samples of both, but have only given the briefest of tests to the Montale, so I can’t compare except to say that the Montale is significantly deeper and richer in my early estimation. I’ll update this section when I review the two scents properly. What is interesting, however, is that only 5 people voted that the Elixir resembled its mothership fragrance, Reminiscence’s original Patchouli. As noted above, I think there are differences too, beyond just depth, smoothness, and intensity.

Source: Nathan Branch.

Source: Nathan Branch.

Another name which has come up is Serge LutensBorneo 1834. One blogger, Nathan Branch, found the two fragrances very much kindred spirits:

Patchouli Elixir is a stronger, more intense version of the soft, sweet original Patchouli fragrance from Reminiscence, and it easily runs in the same league as Serge Lutens Borneo 1834 — lots of potent green and camphorous patchouli for the first few hours, gradually softening into woods with a dusting of vanilla-cocoa over the rest of its long life-span.

Source: Nathan Branch

Source: Nathan Branch

But I want to stress that the juice goes on very strong. The BF, who’s the warm and huggy type, walked up to me for his usual morning squeeze only a few minutes after I’d sprayed some of the Elixir on, but a look of alarm flashed across his face when he got close and he suddenly veered off with just a quick pat to my shoulder, so if you’re planning on going out anywhere and you want to wear some Reminiscence Patchouli Elixir for the day, either apply with a light touch or give yourself a couple of hours before walking out the door.

I’m tellin’ ya, this stuff is a serious patchouli stink bomb right out of the bottle.

I agree, it’s extremely potent at first, and it shares some similarities to Borneo 1834, though I think they are far fewer than Mr. Branch does. Borneo never turned into a cedar-vetiver swamp on me, the tobacco undertone was very different, and so was its drydown.

All in all, I think both Reminiscence fragrances are very pleasant, but have some issues. Each one has a single, weird note that puts me off, lacks the weight I’m looking for, and could have better longevity or overall, long-term sillage with a normal dose. I go back and forth on which one I prefer, but I like Profumum‘s Patchouly more than either of them. In all fairness, I’m very picky when it comes to patchouli, and have a perfect scent (and weight) in mind that I’m seeking to replicate. Given that everyone else seems to adore the two Reminiscence fragrances, they may be worth checking out for a test if you’re a hardcore patchouli lover.   

DETAILS:
Patchouli EDT Cost & Availability: Patchouli is an eau de toilette that is available in 3 sizes: 50 ml, 100 ml, and 200 ml. The prices are, respectively: €52, €76, and €105. Reminiscence: Reminiscence has an e-store, which offers 2 free samples with every order and, for a limited time until 12/23/13, free shipping. Their delivery countries are: France, the UK, Italy, Germany and Austria. Reminiscence has shops throughout France, but also in Italy, Belgium, and Switzerland. In the UK, I found Patchouli at Miriam London Boutique where it retails for £59.00, but it is currently sold out. In the U.S.: you can find Patchouli heavily discounted on Amazon which sells the 50 ml bottle for $57.91 via a 3rd party seller. You can also buy Patchouli from BeautyHabit which sells Patchouli for $70 for a 50 ml bottle. There is also StrawberryNet which ships worldwide and which sells Patchouli in the 50 ml bottle for $70.50 or the 100 ml for $96. Samples: Surrender to Chance offers samples starting at $2.99 for a 1 ml vial.
ELIXIR EDP Cost & Availability: The Elixir de Patchouli is an eau de parfum that comes only in a 100 ml bottle and which costs €94 or $120.  In the U.S.: BeautyHabit sells all the Reminiscence fragrances, and you can find the Elixir for $120 for the 100 ml bottle. You can find the Elixir on Amazon for $124.55. It is also sold at StrawberryNet for $125.50, and the site ships worldwide.  Outside the U.S.: the Elixir is available directly from Reminiscence which offers 2 samples with every purchase and, for a limited time until 12/23/13, free shipping (in France, to the UK, and selected European countries). You can also find the Elixir at the French Sephora or at the StrawberryNet site linked above. They ship world-wide. Samples: I obtained my sample while at Reminiscence in Paris, and I can’t seem to find any place in the U.S. that may carry it. I don’t know if BeautyHabit offers samples for sale, other than the free ones which come with an order. Surrender to Chance does not carry the Elixir de Patchouli.

Guerlain L’Instant de Guerlain pour Homme & L’Instant Eau Extreme

Source: parfumdepub.com

Source: parfumdepub.com

Women are missing out. Those who pay heed to Guerlain’s ridiculous gender classifications are losing the opportunity to try a very refined fragrance that starts off as crisp and fresh as a glass of sparkling, chilled Perrier with lemon, before turning into a slightly gourmand fragrance centered around cozy, milky tea with jasmine. It is L’Instant de Guerlain Pour Homme, commonly nicknamed LIDG, an eau de toilette that plays with hot and cold, light and dark, cologne and gourmand elements.

It’s elegant and sophisticated, but I think it’s even better in the richer, deeper, spicier, and smokier flanker eau de parfum version called L’Instant pour Homme de Guerlain Eau Extreme in the U.S. (“LIDGE“), but simply L’Instant de Guerlain pour Homme Eau de Parfum in Europe. (For the sake of succinctness, I’ll merely refer to the latter as “L’Instant Extreme.”) In fact, L’Instant Extreme may be my favorite thus far out of Guerlain’s modern line-up. In this review, I’ll cover both the original fragrance (which I’ll just call “L’Instant” or “LIDG“) and its eau de parfum Extreme version.

L’INSTANT DE GUERLAIN POUR HOMME (EAU DE TOILETTE):

L'Instant de Guerlain Pour Homme (LIDG) Eau de Toilette.

L’Instant de Guerlain Pour Homme (LIDG) Eau de Toilette.

Contrasts in masculinity and femininity, crispness and warmth, hot and cold — those were the exact goals for L’Instant, an eau de toilette created by Beatrice Piquet, and released in 2004. The fragrance is described by Guerlain as follows:

Luminous Woody.
Fresh, warm, sensual.

This paradoxical fragrance skates between fire and ice, flamboyant virility and discreet femininity. The luminous freshness of citrus crystals and star anise contrasts with the warmth of patchouli, hibiscus seeds and cocoa to offer, through this luminous woody scent, a unique moment after which everything will be different.

With L’Instant de Guerlain pour Homme, the Guerlain Perfumer takes a first step towards freshness in 2004, showcasing a hot and cold olfactory contrast. The fresh top notes are inspired by an oriental aniseed drink called arak. The base notes feature the gourmand notes of the dessert by a famous pastry-maker, worked around chocolate and patchouli.

Surrender to Chance provides the succinct list of L’Instant Pour Homme’s ingredients:

top notes of citrus, anise and jasmine; middle notes of patchouli, cedar, Indian sandalwood, Lapsang tea, cocoa beans and lavender; and base notes of hibiscus seeds and musk.

Source: societeperrier.com

Source: societeperrier.com

L’Instant pour Homme opens on my skin as a sparkling, zesty, citrus cologne with fougère-like touches of lavender. The lemon is so fresh, clean, and brisk that it reminds me of a glass of chilled Perrier infused with citruses. Within seconds, however, L’Instant turns warm with dusty cocoa powder. It feels initially out-of-place, discordant and too dusky sweet, but it soon melts into the base. There are hints of creamy woods lurking there as well, but, to my nose, it doesn’t smell of real or Mysore sandalwood. Instead, it smells like something generic and, given its later manifestation as something almost cashmere-like in softness, it seems more like Cashmeran than sandalwood. Regardless, it’s still pretty, and serves to create a bridge between the zesty, crisp, cool notes and the warmth lurking in L’Instant’s base.

Source: apollotea.com

Source: apollotea.com

Other elements are soon noticeable as well. Subtle touches of anise swirl together with smoky, green, slightly sharp cedar. There is also the first whisper of a dark, black, Lapsang Souchong tea that mixes with the creamy elements and the fresher notes to create an unusual cocktail: half warm, milky, sweetened tea; and half cold, Pastis/Ouzo with sparkling lemon. It’s rather fascinating. Lest all this sound like a discordant hodge-podge, lest me assure you that it is not. The cocoa powder’s early whiff of sweetness softened within an instant, losing its distinct, individual identity, and melting into the crisp aromatics, lavender, woods, tea, and anise to create a soft warmth. It’s a strong combination at first, wafting about 3 inches above the skin from 3 very big smears, but it feels almost transparent as well. L’Instant pour Homme is simultaneously both brisk, and languidly mellow, smooth, and creamy.

Source: womanfaq.ru

Source: womanfaq.ru

L’Instant’s brisk, clean, lemon notes soften 25 minutes in, and start to weaken as the warm base rises to the surface. More and more, the perfume smells like warm, creamy, milky tea instead of chilled, brisk, lemon Perrier with ouzo. There are hints of a green jasmine dancing around, along with the soft, smooth “sandalwood” that holds the faintest, merest flicker of something smoky. This feels almost like an intermediary stage, bridging the cool opening phase with the L’Instant’s eventual turn into something warmer, softer, more floral.

Forty minutes in, the floral-woody elements grow stronger, changing L’Instant more and more into something that is primarily a lemony, jasmine, woody musk over a Chai-like base. The flower is green and fresh, not sweet, syrupy, indolic, or over-the-top. Yet, it has a soft creaminess to it, thanks to the equally green “sandalwood.” I refuse to believe the latter comes from India, and it has to be a green tree from Australia — if it is even sandalwood itself as opposed to some synthetic like Cashmeran. I’ll spare you my pet peeves on “sandalwood” in modern perfumery, and simply say that the base works here as a creamy, textural element that perfectly suits the Lapsang Souchong milky tea.

The perfume shifts yet again at the 90-minute mark. L’Instant Pour Homme is a soft blur of notes that overlap each other in a graceful blend of jasmine, creamy woods, and musk. The faintest trace of lemon lingers, but the cocoa is becoming more noticeable, diffusing the occasional greenness that remains around the floral edges. The milky tea accord has temporarily retreated, though it later pops up again with greater visibility. L’Instant is all about the floral woodiness right now. The fragrance has also changed in terms of sillage, dropping to hover right on my skin with no projection at all, though it is still distinct and noticeable if sniffed up close.

I’ve tried L’Instant pour Homme several times, and noticed that it always seems to go through the same stages on my skin. Each time, its primary, main bouquet seems to be:

  • 0-20 minutes: sparkling, chilled Perrier dominated by brisk lemon, and a hint of ouzo.
  • 20-40 minutes: crisp, milky, lemon tea; a cool fragrance with starting hints of warmth; and the growing significance of jasmine and cocoa;
  • 40-90 minutes: jasmine infused with lemony citrus over creamy tea;
  • 90-180 minutes: a creamy jasmine, floral, woody musk which turns into a skin scent at 120 minutes.
  • 180+ minutes: milky tea and jasmine, lightly sprinkled with dry, sweet cocoa. It is a bouquet that is extremely hard to detect at times.

Tea with milkThe last two stages are interesting. Whenever I think that L’Instant has turned into a floral woody musk like something from Chanel (the drydown of 1932 comes to mind), the milky chai element either pops back up or takes over completely. The jasmine really isn’t the main player in L’Instant’s drydown, often hiding behind the creamy, sweetened, milky tea, but it certainly appears more on my skin than the cocoa.

As for the sillage, I have to say that I was pretty sure that L’Instant had died completely on my skin at the end of the second hour, then at the end of the third. By the fourth hour, I was shocked to see L’Instant still hanging on tenacious, though I had to practically attack my arm and inhale like a wild animal to find it. It was a mere blur of creaminess that was vaguely woody and sweetened. Yet, L’Instant is an extremely tenacious little thing, and I was quite stunned to detect thin, wispy bits of it lingering 8.5 hours from the start. There wasn’t much to the scent in terms of notes, but it was there.

L’Instant Pour Homme doesn’t suit my personal tastes, primarily because of its ephemeral quality and sillage, but I think it’s very well-done, refined, and sophisticated. Perhaps more to the point, I find it wholly unisex in nature. The crispness of the opening is no different than any number of fragrances worn by women, from Arquiste‘s L’Etrog, to half a dozen things from Parfums d’Empire, Histoires de Parfums, Santa Maria Novella, or other houses. L’Instant pour Homme certainly feels more feminine than a scent like Azemour from Parfums d’Empire with its arid, pungent, oakmoss citruses. Yes, L’Instant has a cologne-like start, but it lasts about 15 minutes before the fragrance starts the transition into one of its many Lapsang Souchong chai variations. The drydown is certainly plush, warm, and creamy enough to work on both genders.

Source: weheartit.com

Source: weheartit.com

For me, L’Instant evokes a very specific customer: images of extremely well-heeled men and women in New York’s Upper East Side. Very wealthy, Ralph Lauren-types where the women are cool blondes in long, soft, flowing cashmere wraps with chic riding boots, or dark brunettes with a sleek New York style. The men are in crisp, well-tailored, dark suits, or in discretely expensive, casual attire as they drive their Range Rovers to the Hamptons. It’s all about elegance with discretion, a seemingly haughty, brisk aloofness belied by approachable warmth and coziness. It’s suitable for a variety of occasions, but especially the office given its discrete, unobtrusive sillage.

Source: mobile-wallpapers.feedio.net

Source: mobile-wallpapers.feedio.net

I don’t think L’Instant Pour Homme is the most distinctive, unusual fragrance on the market, but it’s a very refined one that deserves its cult status amongst men. It’s too well-known a fragrance to warrant comparative assessments or reviews, but you can read the gushing raves on Fragrantica for yourself. I will only point out that others seem to have significantly better luck with L’Instant’s duration than I did, as the vast majority (123) voted for “long lasting” (defined as 7-12 hours), outweighing all other categories by a land-slide.

For me, personally, L’Instant is too thin, sheer, and translucent, too fresh at first before turning into a rather simple floral, woody musk at the end. None of that is really my personal style and, while I found it refined for others, what showed up on my skin was somewhat uninteresting for my tastes (it’s all subjective!), and irritatingly transient. The L’Instant Pour Homme Eau Extreme eau de parfum is a whole other matter, however. I found it lovely, and it is the version that I would personally recommend, especially for women.

L’INSTANT EAU EXTREME:

L'Instant Pour Homme Eau Extreme (LIDGE), or L'Instant Eau de Parfum.

L’Instant Pour Homme Eau Extreme (LIDGE), or L’Instant Eau de Parfum.

L’Instant’s second flanker was released in 2005, and its massively long American name is L’Instant de Guerlain Pour Homme Eau Extreme (with “LIDGE” as a nickname). In Europe, it seems to be entitled merely L’Instant Pour Homme Eau de Parfum. Regardless of name, Beatrice Piquet intended Eau Extreme to be a “more intense, richer, smokier and deeper version of the original fragrance. The perfume opens with notes of crystal citruses, star anise and elemi. Neroli, patchouli flower, Indian jasmine and Lapsang tea are the heart of the composition, laid on the base of cedar, Mysore sandalwood, cocoa, patchouli and hibiscus seed.” As Guerlain adds on its website,

There are no languid half-measures about the composition of this Eau Extrême. The fresh notes of citrus and star anise, embellished by floral notes, embrace the light before melting into a deeply sensual and gourmand woody accord of patchouli and cocoa.

For me, the two fragrances are different for reasons that go beyond mere deepness or concentration. I find them to have completely separate olfactory profiles, due, in part, to the ingredients used. According to Fragrantica, the list of notes for L’Instant Eau Extreme includes:

citrus, star anise, elemi, neroli, patchouli flower, Indian jasmine, lapsang tea, cedar, Mysore sandalwood, cocoa, and hibiscus seed.

Pre-Columbian chocolate with chilies. Source: CaFleureBon.

Pre-Columbian chocolate with chilies. Source: CaFleureBon.

L’Instant Eau Extreme opens on my skin with citruses dominated by sharp, fiery spices. It’s a visual of yellow, reds, browns and dark greens, especially once the patchouli kicks in with its slightly pungent, very green feeling leafiness. Sweet, dusty, milk chocolate cocoa powder and smoky dark woods soon follow. L’Instant Eau Extreme’s spiciness is interesting; for me, it goes far beyond star anise and actually verges on a red pimento chili pepper with a definite bite.

Underlying the spiciness are other elements. There is the most minuscule, fleeting whisper of bitter neroli, but the main citric note is that of sun-warmed lemons. It’s a heavier, sweeter, richer note than the crisp, brisk, chilled lemon used in LIDG eau de toilette. There is also smokiness from the elemi which carries a nuance of leaves burning in an autumn bonfire. The whole bouquet is lightly dusted by a cocoa powder that feels soft, dusty and sweet like milk chocolate. Yet, there is also a definite nuttiness to L’Instant Eau Extreme, as if the cocoa and patchouli had combined to produce toasted hazelnuts.

The patchouli lurked about Eau Extreme’s opening, but it becomes really noticeable about 5 minutes in, adding a dusty earthiness to the scent. It’s not a chewy, dense note, and, at first, it’s far from the usual patchouli aroma with its interplay of sweetness and smoky spiciness. Instead, the patchouli is initially evocative of dry, dark, slightly damp soil with a bit of a musky overlay. Its lack of sweetness counters the cocoa, creating a blend that is perfectly balanced and never cloying.

Star Anise. Source: foodlve.com

Star Anise. Source: foodlve.com

The original LIDG’s milky tea note carries over to Eau Extreme as well. The difference is that it is now infused with the fiery, chili-like star anise, earthy patchouli, smoky woods, and a far greater confluence of sweet cocoa powder. Eau Extreme has a touch of a floral musk at the edges, but it is indistinct  on my skin at this stage, and is never as profound or significant a note as it is in LIDG eau de toilette.

Twenty minutes in, L’Instant Eau Extreme turns into a fragrance dominated by patchouli, followed by cocoa, and creamy tea that has been infused with fiery, spicy, star anise and lemon. Regular readers know that (true) patchouli is one of my all-time favorite notes, so it’s probably not surprising that L’Instant Eau Extreme is my favorite out of the two Guerlain siblings. The fragrance soon turns into a powerful but airy, almost transparent cloud that is a beautiful blend of sweet, spicy, woody, earthy and creamy elements dominated by patchouli. It wafts about four inches above the skin, and little tendrils follow in the air as I move.

Yet, at the same time, there is something synthetic in the perfume’s base that consistently gives me faint twinges for the first two hours when I sniff the perfume up close. I didn’t detect anything similar in LIDG, so I have to wonder if it is that slightly acrid, biting star anise that is to blame. When the note fades and L’Instant Eau Extreme turns into a creamier, softer, more vanillic patchouli, so does my occasional headache.

Source: howbenefitstea.com

Source: howbenefitstea.com

Slowly, very slowly, L’Instant Eau Extreme starts to change. Forty-five minutes, the jasmine appears. There are only hints of it at first, but it remains a lingering trace at the perfume’s edges. Then, the patchouli loses its earthiness, turning sweet, creamy, and soft. The star anise mellows, and that chili pepper, pimento facet starts to fade away. The tea accord becomes increasingly dominant, feeling always creamy and milky, and softening the smokier woodier elements in L’Instant Extreme. As with regular LIDG, the eau de parfum version goes through a phase where it smells like milky tea with a slice of lemon and a light touch of jasmine. This time, however, the tea is dominated by a soft patchouli as well.

At the start of the third hour, L’Instant Extreme is a creamy patchouli with a vanilla undertone. There are varying levels of tea, jasmine, lemon, and woodiness that wax and wane, but they are not the dominant, primary essence of the fragrance on my skin, and they become increasingly muted. L’Instant Eau Extreme turns into a skin scent at the start of the 4th hour, though it is still easily noticeable if sniffed up close. About 6.5 hours in, the perfume is a lovely, cozy, gourmand blur of patchouli with a nutty, cuddly, caramel-vanilla aspect that makes me wonder if L’Instant Eau Extreme also has a touch of tonka bean in it. After all, it is the tonka bean that is partially responsible for Guerlain’s signature Guerlainade note, and base aroma here seems different than mere milk chocolate powder. Whatever the reason for the caramel-vanilla touch, it works wonderfully with the patchouli.

Photo: Heather A. Riggs, available at her Etsy store, ShyPhotog. (Website link embedded within photo.)

Photo: Heather A. Riggs, available at her Etsy store, ShyPhotog. (Website link embedded within photo.)

Yet, L’Instant Eau Extreme’s drydown never feels wholly like a gourmand patchouli soliflore, perhaps because of lingering, ghostly traces of the other notes. There are rare moments when the sun-sweetened lemon, delicate jasmine, or milky chai pop their heads back up. There are also the merest suggestions of lingering smokiness and woodiness from time to time. As a whole, though, L’Instant Eau Extreme is a patchouli-dominated fragrance. Like its older, thinner sibling, it turns more and more abstract, and becomes harder to detect, though it is generally a much stronger, richer, deeper scent. In its final moments, 10.5 hours from the start, L’Instant Eau Extreme is merely a blur of sweetness. The fragrance has strong projection at first, which turns softer at the end of the second hour, and discreet after four hours.

For all that cocoa is supposed to be such a big part of L’Instant Eau Extreme, it never dominated as a note that was distinctive in its own right. Rather, it seemed to melt into the base, creating that creamy, milky undertone that was a part of both versions of L’Instant. Only at the start, in the very opening minutes of each fragrance, did I think, “Oh, chocolate powder.” Instead, my skin turned the note into something that merely had an indirect effect on the other notes. Judging by the comments on Fragrantica, it’s merely my skin because plenty of people detected a very distinct, profound cocoa powder accord in L’Instant Extreme.

Since LIDGE (Eau Extreme) is different than LIDG (original), and not as well-known, a few of the Fragrantica reviews may be helpful. Take the comment by “hedward,” who absolutely hates Ouzo and, thus, Eau Extreme’s opening, but who wrote this about the fragrance’s main stage:

As the heart notes began to creep in LIDGE started to make sense after my nose had recovered from the anise attack. During the heart there was a very dry tea note which was incredibly clever – smokey black tea to be precise. It kind of had a chai latteish feeling to it (and I mean real chai latte, not the one from Starbucks)Then the tea died down and patchouli made it’s way to the stage… this is where the magic begins. The drydown is marvelous!! Semi-sweet pure cocoa with shining earthy pathcouli and a slightest hint of vanilla. This smells like a golden Maya temple – reeks of wealth and power but in a very delicate and beautiful way. The scent was so bright and glorious it almost radiated rays of golden light with a jesus choir singing in the backround!! I’m a sucker for dark chocolate as well as for patchouli so this serves my senses just right. The only bad thing about this fragrance is the vile anise in the opening – reminded me of Ouzo which I deeply detest.

Notes I could not detect at all: Neroli, jasmine and surprisingly: citrus.

A few others were also “repulsed” by the first two hours of LIDGE, before falling in love with its subsequent development. In one instance, the person’s main problem seems to be the fragrance’s strength in the opening. As for women, there are quite a few who like L’Instant Eau Extreme, undoubtedly because it lacks the more cologne-like citrus focus of the original LIDG and is a sweeter, richer scent. One female commentator shared the opinion of a few men that Eau Extreme was better with time, but she also wrote that she thinks all Guerlains are generally better experienced after 30-40 minutes.

As with any fragrance that is hugely hyped and a cult legend, there are people who simply don’t see what all the fuss is about. L’Instant Eau Extreme is no different. Some people find it pretty good, but “not remarkable.” A few struggle with weak sillage and longevity, while a handful have the opposite reaction, finding that LIDGE is too strong, too enduring, and too intense. As a whole, I suspect that those who aren’t fans of patchouli will have issues with L’Instant Extreme, no matter how much cocoa may appear on their skin or what the perfume’s strength may be.

I like LIDGE a lot, but I don’t think it’s perfect and I want to emphasize the context for my feelings. For me, personally, I would like that the fragrance have greater weight, heaviness, and nuance on my skin. I would definitely prefer sillage that didn’t veer between slightly synthetic forcefulness, and a sudden gauzy, wispy softness after just two hours, before turning into a skin scent after four. And if I love L’Instant Eau Extreme, it is highly relative to my feelings about Guerlain as a whole.

This is actually my very first positive review for any modern Guerlain. I’ve been utterly unimpressed by all their recent creations thus far, let alone the terrible reformulations of their brilliant, justifiably admired classics. I would absolutely wear L’Instant Eau Extreme if a bottle fell into my lap, but it is not sufficiently breath-taking on an overall, general scale for me to hunt it down. (As you can read below in the Details section, the fragrance seems to be a European exclusive that is not commonly available in the United States, and may require purchase from Canada.) As a result, I would probably get my patchouli fix from fragrances that have deeper body, more depth, and are more noticeable on my perfume-consuming skin.

That said, L’Instant Pour Homme Eau Extreme is perhaps my favorite modern Guerlain thus far. I think it is warm, lovely, creamy, and smooth, and it would be sexy on both a man and a woman. Both versions, LIDG and LIDGE/Extreme are refined, very well-done, elegant fragrances that are offered at a reasonable price. If Guerlain ever took the words “Pour Homme” out of both fragrance’s names, I think women would suddenly realise that Guerlain offers a scent that is not a boring, girly fruity-floral, a simplistic gourmand, an “old lady” powder, or a super-sweet, over-priced, hot mess. There is another option, hiding under an archaic, ridiculous gender classification. Depending on your personal taste, you can go with a crisp, brisk, fresh cologne that turns into a discreet, soft floral woody musk with Chai tea; or you can go with a richer, spicier, smoky, woody oriental that turns into a cozy, patchouli, gourmand-oriental. Both are worth a test sniff, regardless of your gender.

DETAILS:
L’INSTANT EDT – Cost & Availability: L’Instant de Guerlain pour Homme is an Eau de Toilette that comes in two sizes: a 2.5 oz/75 ml bottle that Guerlain has priced at $75 or €62, or a 4.2 oz/120 ml bottle for $100. Like its brother, L’Instant Eau de Toilette is featured on the International Guerlain website, but there is no online store from which you can purchase the fragrance directly. However, French readers can purchase directly from the Guerlain France website. In the U.S.: You can find L’Instant at many department stores, but also at a number of discount retailers. The “small” 2.5 oz bottle is available at Overstock.com for $45.99 and at Target for $56.09, while I found the big 4.2 oz/125 ml size sold on Amazon by a third-party vendor at a discounted rate for $66.77. The perfume is also discounted in both sizes at FragranceX in the $60-range. At the higher, regular retail price, it is sold at Bloomingdale’s and in both sizes by Neiman Marcus. The L’Instant Eau de Toilette is currently sold out at Nordstroms. Outside the U.S.: L’Instant de Guerlain pour Homme is sold at many Sephoras, especially in France. In the UK, you can find it at Harrod’s and all big department stores. The House of Fraser had the fragrance discounted, which is undoubtedly why they are currently sold out. Samples: you can order samples of L’Instant EDT from Surrender to Chance where prices start at $3.99 for a 1 ml vial.
L’INSTANT EDP or L’INSTANT EXTREME- Cost & Availability: L’Instant in Eau de Parfum version, or L’Instant Eau Extreme comes in a 2.5 oz/75 ml bottle that costs £52.50, or €73. I simply cannot seem to find it in the U.S., whether at established retailers like Saks or Bergdorf Goodman, or at the discount sites. I’m not even sure if it would be available at the Guerlain boutique in Las Vegas. However, I know that it is available at Guerlain’s Toronto store. A poster on Fragrantica, “Aucffan1” posted some incredibly useful, detailed information regarding that affordable, no tax option:
Try buying from Guerlain’s Boutique in Toronto, Canada.. For 75 ml bottle the price is $80.00 US dollars and free shipping to the USA.. In the USA I just dialed area code and number.. [¶] Serious.. And no tax..
Address: 110 Bloor St W Toronto, ON M5S 2W7, Canada
Phone: +1 416-929-6114
The package came within 3 days….And very important you need to sign for the package.
Outside the US: I found L’Instant EDP Eau Extreme at a number of retailers, from Harrods to House of Fraser where it costs £52.50 for the 75 ml size. I found it discounted at Debenham’s for £47.25, and at Escentual for £42.00. Samples: in the U.S., you can order samples of L’Instant EDP or, as they call it, L’Instant Extreme from Surrender to Chance which sells vials starting at $5.99

Oriza L. Legrand: Chypre Mousse, Horizon & Reve d’Ossian

Oriza logo. Sourc: the Oriza L. Legrand website.

Oriza logo. Source: the Oriza L. Legrand website.

An ancient perfume house whose fragrances have been brought back to life like Sleeping Beauty awakened with a kiss. Oriza L. Legrand (hereinafter just “Oriza”) is not a well-known house, but its perfumes have a unique character that is redolent of the past and the classic French tradition. Yesterday, I provided an overview of the brand, its history and how its fragrances have been tweaked from the 1900s to suit today’s tastes. Today, I’d like to briefly review three Oriza perfumes: Chypre Mousse, Horizon, and Reve d’Ossian. The remaining four, primarily floral fragrances — Relique d’Amour, Jardins d’Armide, Oeillet Louis XV, and Deja Le Printemps — are the focus of another post.

CHYPRE MOUSSE:

Chypre Mousse. Source: Oriza L. Legrand.

Chypre Mousse. Source: Oriza L. Legrand.

Oriza describes Chypre Mousse (at the link imbedded above in the title) as the essence of nature in autumnal woods:

After the first rainfall in September nature exude scents of humus, peat and wetland. [¶] This is the time for a promenade in the woods to enjoy the freshness after the heat of summer. [¶] Autumn encourages us to contemplate, to observate nature that gently prepares us for the coming winter and its frostbite.

The mossy paths, precious jewels of the undergrowth, are brightened by the last rays of sun. [¶] Cyprus-Moss evokes in us our surrounding nature which soon will be covered by the first fall of snow. [¶] Smell of damp undergrowth of scorched leaves and the scent of moss before picking mushrooms and chestnuts.

Chypre-Mousse, a Fragrance of the House Oriza L. Legrand launched in 1914 for the dandies of this world!

Top Notes[:] tonic & balsamic: Wild mint, clary sage, wild fennel & green shoots.
Heart notes[:] aromatic & flowing properties: Oakmoss, Galbanum, Angelica, fern, wild clover, Mastic & Violet leaves.
Backgrounds[:] Notes mossy & leathery: Vetiver, Pine Needles, Oak Moss, Mushroom fresh Humus, Roasted Chestnut Leather, labdanum & Balms.

Source: it.forwallpaper.com

Source: it.forwallpaper.com

As outlined in my earlier post on Oriza, I went to the boutique with the goal of sniffing and possibly buying a very different perfume, Horizon. I’m generally not one who buys a perfume without testing, especially given my crazy skin and how voracious it is. So, I sprayed both fragrances on my skin and on the sweater that I was wearing, walked out of the store to think about it, and headed on my way to Serge Lutens to buy my precious bell-jar. I went four blocks, sniffing myself throughout, then stopped dead in my tracks, and headed back. I had to have Chypre Mousse, then and there, without further testing. Suffice it to say, that is extremely unusual for me.

Source: photocase.com

Source: photocase.com

I’m not sure how to best describe Chypre Mousse. It’s not the typical oakmoss fragrance; it has neither the dark grey, mineralized, dusty fustiness of some oakmoss fragrances, nor the bright green, softly plush, fresh mossy feel of others. To me, it smells like the damp forest floor, wet leaves, dewy violets, earthy mushrooms, drenched forests, and a symphony of green, brown, grey, and purple. Again and again, I go back to Oriza’s description of “green shoots,” because there is something of youthful life that is pushing through the wet floor of a verdant forest.

Source: Cottage Environmentalist blog at fifthlake.wordpress.com

Source: Cottage Environmentalist blog at fifthlake.wordpress.com

Chypre Mousse opens with a pungent but sweet oakmoss that feels as though it’s sprouted right off the bark of a tree deluged by rain. There is a dark leather underlying it, covered in resinous, piney tree sap, swirled with darkened mosses, and speckled with reddish mushrooms. The strip of leather lies atop a mound of leaves whose autumnal oranges and browns have turned darker with dampness and water. All around are bunches of fresh violets, pushing out through the soil, past the green shoots, and in the wet space left untouched by the gnarled, woody roots of surrounding pine trees. The dewy, sweet purple flowers form a bright spot of colour in the dark, green forest.

Source: 123rf.com

Source: 123rf.com

The leather, wood, mushrooms, wet leaves, violets, grass, and moss are backed by traces of other notes. The sweetest black earth, the freshest of green herbs, the stoniest of grey boulders, the darkest of tree sap, and just the subtlest hint of smoky incense. The forest has come alive in a symphony that is leafy, earthy, green, woody version of Serge Lutens‘ delicate floral masterpiece, De Profundis. There is the same sort of haunting delicacy, of dewy wetness, of youthful life. The two perfumes are fundamentally different in notes, but they share a very similar feel. And, oddly, there is something of a chrysanthemum undertone in Chypre Mousse. Perhaps it’s the slightly piquant, peppered, floral greenness created by the other accords together that creates that strange impression. Whatever the cause, Chypre Mousse has the same haunting, evocative impact on me.

The most interesting aspect of Chypre Mousse may be the more unexpected notes. I have no idea what the “hummus” reference in Oriza’s list means, but the mushroom-y touch is fascinating. So is the combination of that leather note which has somehow been transformed by the other elements into something familiar, and yet not. This is leather that has been left out in the rain to have Nature and the forest absorb it, transforming it into something that is more a part of their world.

Source: modavesen.com

Source: modavesen.com

Yet, what I consistently found myself thinking about were the violets or pansies, whose tender refrain wraps its ribbons around you. The funny thing is, I never knew Chypre Mousse included them in my four or five early wearings, and I thought I was quite mad for detecting their delicate, purple hues in a scent intended to be a mossy, mushroom, earthy, forest one. In fact, long before I actually looked at Oriza’s list of notes, I sprayed Chypre Mousse on four people, and asked if they could detect violets. They merely scrunched up their eyes, responding with some form of dubious: “I guess.”

For them, Chypre Mousse was something indescribable, inexplicable, odd, but utterly mesmerizing. A swirl of unusual notes in a well-blended, seamless, elegant bouquet that they couldn’t place or categorize. One Paris fashionista who tested it took a single sniff of her arm, and immediately said, “I’ve never smelled anything like it. Where can I buy it?!” She couldn’t describe it, and neither could two others. A fourth tester was an experienced perfumista, and just looked at me with bewilderment. “What is this??!” Her initial response was uncertainty, but every passing minute changed that. She loved how she couldn’t put her finger on the scent or what lay underneath it. Even more so, she was astounded by the trails of aroma that followed in the air around her. As someone whose skin squashes both projection and longevity, she couldn’t get over it.

Source: wallpaperup.com

Source: wallpaperup.com

That brings me to Chypre Mousse’s sillage and longevity. It’s outstanding, even on my crazy, perfume-consuming skin. Two small sprays will create a large cloud all around me for the first hour, followed later by projection that extends about six inches. Later, when the sillage drops around the end of the third hour, Chypre Mousse continues to send out ribbons of scent in the air around you. And it lasts for ages. On average, I get around 10 hours with two small sprays, and well over 12 hours with more.

There are no entries for Chypre Mousse on Fragrantica thus far, but Ida Meister wrote a piece entitled Fragrant Snippets on a few of the Oriza scents. Like me, she was knocked off her feet by Chypre Mousse, and ordered a bottle right away. Her summation for the scent reads as follows:

It is Confession Time. I didn’t want to wait for another week: I ordered this edp PRONTO. 😉

Chypre-Mousse sings to me. All that lurks in the forest, humid and expectant after the first September rains. The exquisite aromas of the undergrowth; peat, mushrooms, humus. Moss and more moss; sheer delight for me, who craves that velvety green aromatic cushion beneath the nose, the feet, my fingers! A carpet of russet leaves underfoot, the seductive aroma of grilled chestnuts around the corner. Oriza may have had dandies in mind for Chypre-Mousse, but it is my ongoing intoxicating love affair with all things Green. I will wear my velvet cloak of chypre gratefully.

Chypre Mousse sings to me as well. I think it is an absolute masterpiece. To me, it doesn’t smell old-fashioned or dated for one simple reason: I’ve never smelled anything quite like it. From any age.

HORIZON:

Horizon. Source: Oriza L. Legrand.

Horizon. Source: Oriza L. Legrand.

Horizon was originally released in 1925, and Oriza describes the fragrance as the embodiment of its decade:

After World War I, the Roaring Twenties reflect the desire of the exotic and the need also through fashion and decoration. [¶] The East and particularly Asia, provide new HORIZONS. [¶] The frenzy for exotic travel and encourages artists to transcend the culture of the East in their creations: new silk, fine embroidery, pearl beads, woody scents, heady and sweet …

In the euphoria of the Roaring Twenties, the female body is revealed, it abolished the corset, the flappers open the eyes and smoking languidly.

Slumming it in the salons of Paris!

The materials, colors, shapes symbolize a new freedom and portend, at the dawn of the Roaring Twenties, the hope of a new HORIZON. [¶][…] [An] Oriental fragrance for boys and tomboys, fragrance of Precious Woods and Ambergris agreements Tabac Blond and Soft Leather.

Top Notes: Bitter orange, Tangerine Confit & Dried Rose.
Heart Notes: Cognac Amber, Aromatic Tobacco Leaves, Cocoa, Roasted Almonds, Old Oak & Patchouli.
Base Notes: Benzoin, Amber Gray [ambergris], Peat, Tabac Blond, Vanilla, Honey & Soft Leather.

Source: dailymail.co.uk

Source: dailymail.co.uk

Horizon called its siren cry to me the minute I read that long list of notes. Bitter orange and cognac? Patchouli and leather? Ambergris and tobacco? I was almost certain I would buy it, though things ended up differently when I smelled Chypre Mousse. But it was a very close thing. Horizon bloomed on my thin sweater with an explosion of Armagnac that was rich, nutty, and boozy beyond belief. I felt as though I’d actually had a bottle of aged brandy poured on me. Tendrils of smoke, patchouli, amber, and tobacco stirred underneath, but the main bouquet was a forceful explosion of booze in a kaleidoscope of reds, browns, amber, and gold.

It’s a different matter on skin. Very different, in fact, and significantly softer. I have to say that I’m glad I didn’t end up purchasing Horizon in the end for the simple reason that my skin seems to eat it up like a wolf who hasn’t seen food in weeks. I also can’t decide if Horizon is less complex on actual skin, or simply so much milder that all its layers aren’t as easy to detect. Whatever the case, Horizon is, for the most part, primarily just a boozy, cognac patchouli on me. You can definitely detect the other notes if you sniff closely and pay close attention, but, from afar, it is primarily a very soft patchouli cloud. I much prefer the deeper, more potent, robust version on fabric, alas.

Source: wallpaperswa.com

Source: wallpaperswa.com

On skin, smelled up close, Horizon opens with leather, patchouli, and cognac, followed by faint hints of bitter dark chocolate that grow stronger with the passing minutes. There are whiffs of caramelized, candied orange and something smoky. This is a true patchouli scent, in all its brown, red, amber glory, smelling spicy, leathered, ambered, and chewy, all at once. Lurking at the edges, there is subtlest hint of something nutty. It never smells almond-y to me, but more like toasted hazelnuts. The whole thing sits atop a base of ambergris that has the element’s special, unique characteristics: a very salty sweetness that is also slightly musky, marshy, sweaty, and rich.

Source: 123rf.com

Source: 123rf.com

There is a definite chewiness and earthiness to Horizon’s opening that soon changes into something lighter on my skin. For the first 25 minutes, the perfume is a dark, dense, orange-brown-black mass in visuals, but it turns creamier, smoother, gentler. There are slow stirrings of a very custardy vanilla in the base. At the 45-minute mark, Horizon seems softer and thinner in weight, with sharply reduced sillage, and a movement away from that very dark, leathery, chewy patchouli and leather opening. The orange bits have receded, the boozy cognac has started to evaporate, dark chocolate has turned into milk chocolate, and the patchouli feels infused with cream.

Source: popularscreensavers.com

Source: popularscreensavers.com

I’m consistently saddened by how quickly the fragrance becomes airy and light. It sits soft and low, with a scent trail that really only lingers for about 40 minutes before it drops to hover an inch or two above the skin. And then it drops even more. At the end of the second hour and the start of the third, Horizon sits right on the skin as a blur of creamy patchouli amber with the tiniest hints of milk chocolate, vanilla, and cognac. By the 6.5 hour mark, Horizon fades away as a blur of patchouli sweetness. It has to be me and my wonky chemistry, for Horizon feels quite potent and forceful in the first ten minutes. And a mere spray on my shirt continues to pulsate in full force days later.

Those with normal skin seem to have fared much better. Take, for example, Ida Meister whose Fragrantica piece on Horizon talks about the perfume’s longevity, along with how beautiful and modern it felt:

1925. Really???

Horizon smells utterly contemporary—it brings to mind Bois 1920’s Real Patchouly and Chantecaille’s Kalimantan. Truly well-aged patchouli is a joy, even for many who are phobic about it, having been previously traumatized by the cheap 1960-1970’s “head shop” astringent nostril-singeing variety.  😉  Horizon is as suave as it gets: ambery, boozy, honeyed and oaken. It feels utterly without gender. Horizon is a resinous silk duvet which enfolds you tenderly and possesses remarkable longevity. You can be a throwback to the Summer of Love or a CEO in an Ermenegildo Zegna couture suit; either way, it fits. It is heavenly in its own right, and a perfect illustration of classicism: if the design is excellent, it will remain so in the future. [It DID.]

On Parfumo, the lone review for Horizon is extremely positive, and talks about 12-14 hours of duration. The chap also mentions that his immediate reaction to testing the scent was “this smells like vintage Yohji Homme.” I may be remembering things incorrectly, but I believe I read somewhere that Yohji Homme was one of Luca Turin‘s favorite fragrances, and something whose loss or changes he’s mourned. Going back to the Profumo review, the commentator describes Horizon’s development, in part, as follows:

Horizon opens with a quick dash of almond before a slight powdery cocoa note emerges, mingling with a subtle dark dulled rose. As the fragrance enters the early heart the cocoa turns less powdery, blooming to full milk chocolate, as it mixes with the primary heart accord of boozy cognac and benzoin-laced semi-sweet amber. Natural woods and a touch of underlying anise join the remnants of the dull rose in support. As the fragrance enters the late dry-down, the cognac and dull rose dissipate while the relatively sweet amber remains dominant, now joined by traces of sanitized patchouli and suede-like leather. Projection is average and longevity is excellent to outstanding at 12-14 hours on skin.

You have no idea how utterly envious I am of such longevity. I loved the opening minutes of Horizon on me and, even more, the complete cognac-fest that exploded on my clothing. On the basis of smell alone, Horizon’s initial bouquet is extremely close to the ideal patchouli that I’ve been looking for since my old favorite from the 1980s, even if the subsequent development became very different. Alas, Horizon doesn’t ultimately work for me, but I’m sure that you will have better luck. It’s a lovely fragrance.

RÊVE D’OSSIAN:

Reve d'Ossian label. Source: Oriza L. Legrand.

Reve d’Ossian label. Source: Oriza L. Legrand.

The romantic, 19th-century poetic style of Ossianism with its poems of fairies, dark forests and mysterious wood are the heart of the inspiration for Reve d’Ossian. Oriza’s detailed explanation on the fragrance and its backstory reads, in part:

Reve d'Ossian bottle. Source: Oriza L. Legrand website.

Reve d’Ossian bottle. Source: Oriza L. Legrand website.

The [Ossian-style] poems achieved international success (Napoléon Bonaparte was a great fan) and many writers, painters and artists were influenced by the works, including Ingres, Schubert and Oriza L. Legrand Perfumes. […]

“Rêve d’Ossian” is a perfect perfume for those who claim a difference and the rich heritage of the History. Dark and precious essences, wooden notes filled with the mystery of the forest with fairies and pixies…

Top Notes: Frankincense and Pine woods.
Heart Notes: Cinnamon, Benzoin, Tonka Bean and Opopanax [sweet myrrh].
Base Notes: Tolu Balm, Sandalwood, Leather, Labdanum, Amber and Musks.

Source: www.sciencedaily.com

Source: www.sciencedaily.com

Reve d’Ossian opens on my skin with sharp black pepper, myrrh’s white incense, warmly sweet cinnamon, aromatic pine needles, and dust. It’s like an old monastery’s library in the middle of some German forest. For me, the dominance of the dust and incense makes the opening share some thematic similarities to Bertrand Duchaufour‘s Dzonghka for L’Artisan Parfumeur and, to a lesser extent, Heeley‘s Cardinal. I’m not generally a huge fan of High Church fragrances with olibanum or myrrh, and even less so for things with great dustiness, so I’m rather pleased when the latter quickly disappears. Less than five minutes into Reve d’Ossian’s development, it vanishes, a small soapiness takes its place, and the whole thing turns more ambered.

FrankincenseQuickly, Reve d’Ossian turns into a warmer, woodier fragrance with flitting bits of green pine needles that feel as though you’ve crushed them on your walk through the forest and on your way to church. There is a dark resinous feel underlying the white incense smoke, a pungently aromatic overtone reminiscent of a wintery forest, and the feel of crisp, sweet, piney sap. Less than 60 minutes in, Reve d’Ossian turns soft, a hazy blur of the two types of myrrh incense — olibanum and opoponax — with a touch of amber and only a hint of the great, green, woody outdoors.

Source: de.123rf.com

Source: de.123rf.com

At the 2.5 hour mark, the focus of the perfume shifts away from the incense. Reve d’Ossian is now largely an amber scent infused with nutty, warm, soft sweetness of myrrh and a hint of olibanum’s soapy whiteness. It lies right on the skin with extremely weak sillage. The fragrance turns into more of a blur, and, at the start of the 6th hour, all traces of amber and sweet myrrh opoponax fade away. In fairness to Oriza, a greater application (around 4 sprays from the atomizer) yielded far better results, just close to 7.5 hours. The sillage, however, remained moderate to soft.

Reve d’Ossian is one of the few Oriza fragrances to have a Fragrantica entry. With regard to longevity and projection, the majority of the votes put it at “moderate,” though a few also vote for “weak” in each category. The few reviews thus far are all positive in nature with the most detailed, descriptive one stating:

It’s quite close to a balsamic Baghari by Piguet.
A surprising opening, aerial and metallic (aldehydes and terpineols?) notes of pine, old wood and foam on wet stone but it’s warming gently, blowing a strange impulse to this myrrh fragrance. The smell of warm lightly ambered paper, dry almost dusty leather binder. An impression of moor in the autumn.
It is so at odds with our modern conception of the perfume he could be the last release of Comme Des Garçons: Odeur 1900, without changing anything.
Truly a beautiful work of resurrection of the house, all these completely forgotten fragrances are high quality, both modern in their treatment and completely faithful to the spirit of time: a real success.

I haven’t tried Piguet‘s Baghari or the Comme de Garcons‘ scent to be able to compare, but I do agree with much of his description, especially the parts about a dusty leather binder and the dominant role of the myrrh. I also agree that it has a high-quality smell. That said, I think Reve d’Ossian has some problems with it: it has a linear aspect, it’s not enormously complex, and it has sillage issues.

Nonetheless, I liked it, even though it’s not the sort of scent I normally go for, and I thought it was done with a lot of graceful elegance. There was something very appealing about Reve d’Ossian, very softly comforting in its amber heart. I actually don’t think it smells very dated at all, and it’s hard to believe that it was originally created in 1905, more than 107 years ago. When you think of how many scents from the early 1900s were floral orientals or chypres like Mitsouko, while today niche fragrance counters abound with a plethora of “churchy” incense, amber scents, it seems clear that Oriza L. Legrand was far ahead of its time.

Next time, we’ll visit the remaining four creations of Oriza L. Legrand which are largely floral fragrances that are centered around carnation, lily, and assorted spring bouquets.

PRACTICAL DETAILS:
WebsiteOriza L. Legrand. There is an actual e-Store that sells the perfumes and offers perfume samples. All 7 fragrances in the range are offered in 2 ml spray vials for €9. Shipping is listed as €9 extra, but a friend said he was charged only €7. The perfumes themselves are all eau de parfum in concentration, at around 18% perfume oil, and cost €120 for 100 ml/3.4 oz. Other vendors in Europe: For a few other French vendors, like Marie-Antoinette in Paris’ Marais quarter, as well as one store in Sweden and one in the Netherlands, you can check Oriza Points of Sale page. The Netherlands retailer is Parfumaria.

Oriza L. Legrand: The History, The Store & The Perfumes

When perfumistas with vast, expensive fragrance collections and tastes similar to yours urge you repeatedly to do something because “you’ll love it,” a person tends to listen. Again and again, before my Paris trip, I was told that I had to go to Oriza L. Legrand, not because I am a history fanatic, but because of the sophistication, complexity, depth and elegant luxuriousness of their perfumes.

Chypre Mousse. Source: Oriza L. Legrand.

Chypre Mousse. Source: Oriza L. Legrand.

I’m glad I listened, because I was utterly entranced. The history is fantastic, the boutique utterly adorable and filled with quirky personality, and the perfumes are lovely. In one case, so absolutely incredible that it stopped me in my tracks while on my way to buy my precious bell-jar from Serge Lutens. Those of you who know me (and my feelings about Serge Lutens) will realise that it takes a hell of a lot to make me turn around in my set journey to my perfume mecca — let alone to get distracted enough from Serge Lutens to buy another perfume, then and there, and after a mere 15 minutes!

But that is precisely what happened with Oriza L. Legrand‘s Chypre Mousse, a fragrance that I will review (along with some others from the line) in another post. The funny thing is that I had actually gone to Oriza with plans to investigate a completely different perfume, a patchouli-cognac-amber fragrance called Horizon whose lengthy list of notes had called to me like a siren song. It’s a beautiful patchouli-amber, but, in the end, it could not compare to the utterly haunting, unique loveliness that is Chypre Mousse. To me, Chypre Mousse is the damp, mossy, forest, leafy version of Serge Lutens‘ delicate floral triumph, De Profundis. My fellow blogging friend, Undina, once described De Profundis as a “homage to life,” and I think that beautiful phrase is also the ideal way to describe Chypre Mousse. I mean it quite seriously when I say that I think the perfume is a masterpiece.

Oriza logo. Source: the Oriza L. Legrand website.

Oriza logo. Source: the Oriza L. Legrand website.

I was impressed enough by Oriza L. Legrand (hereinafter just “Oriza“) that I decided to begin my coverage with a little overview of the brand. So this post will address Oriza’s history, its return to the perfume scene, and, at the very end, some of the fragrances that stood out for me. It will also focus on how the perfumes may have changed from their very original formulation. I was lucky to stumble across a superb interview with one of Oriza’s new owners in which he explains how he’s dealt with perfume formulas that go back to 1899 and the early 1900s, the tweaks he’s made in order to offer a slightly modernized version, some very famous fans of the new fragrances, and more.

In addition, I have to include some photos from my own time in the boutique. I loved the time-capsule feel of the store with its vintage posters or adverts from the early 1900s, its quirky collection of bow-ties made from vintage silk, and its brightly coloured window displays. As usual for this trip, my tiny camera wasn’t very cooperative. Nonetheless, I hope it gives you a little sense of what the Oriza boutique is like, especially if you are planning a visit to Paris. At the very end will be a discussion of some of my favorite Oriza perfumes thus far, along with their notes, and an explanation of how you can try the line for yourself.

THE HISTORY:

1720, King Louis XV, and famous beauties. Far before Guerlain, Grossmith, Creed or the like, there was Oriza L. Legrand. The brand originated with Fargeon the Elder who set up his first shop in the Louvre Palace’s central court, and who made a fragrance for the young king. It probably helped Oriza even more that Fargeon’s potions and creams were rumoured to be the secret of Ninon de Lenclosa great courtesan known for her beauty and eternal youth.

Composite of old Oriza photos and adverts, created by forevergreen.eu .  http://forevergreen.eu/a-fleur-de-peau/reliques-parfumees/

Composite of old Oriza photos and adverts, created by forevergreen.eu .
http://forevergreen.eu/a-fleur-de-peau/reliques-parfumees/

In a 2012 interview with the French blog, Flair Flair, one of Oriza’s current owners, Franck Belaiche, explains both the company’s name and what happened next:

As for the name of the house, it derives from Oryza Sativa, the latin name for rice, which was part of the cosmetics’ ingredients.

Then in 1811, Louis Legrand took over the house as he understood all the potential prestige it had. With its fragrant creations, he pushed it to its full extent. It is him who introduced the perfumes in the house although Fargeon, in his time, had created a fragrance for Louis XV, the young king.

He created the most refined, the most exquisite, the most complex things. Legrand was a true fragrance artist, like the perfumers one encounters in [Patrick Suskind’s book] Le Parfum. […][¶]

[Eventually] Oriza was one of the rare houses that provided the Courts of Russia, England, Italy and France. In France, it lasted until Napoleon 3. The house was also one of the firsts to turn its fragrances into lines of products. It has become the most natural thing now, but it wasn’t back at that time. For Déjà le Printemps, you had a perfume, a powder, make-up, soaps… You see, when I saw the industrial, powerful and innovative aspects of the house, I fell in love right away. I wanted to give it a second birth and give it its prestige back.

At the start of the 1900s, Oriza continued to enjoy success. It participated in the World Fairs, which were very big things back then and one of the rare occasions when the very best artisans, merchants, and luxury lines could present all their wares in one place. In essence, it was a sort of prestigious Olympics.In 1889, Oriza took home the Gold Medal for its perfumes but, in 1900, it received the very top honours with the Grand Prize. I’ve found a photo of the perfume which may have won and which may have been named after Prince Albert, Queen Victoria’s consort.

One of the ancient Oriza baccarat bottles, as many used to be. This one seems to be for "Violets Prince Albert" and the winner of the First Place prize at the 1900 World Fair winner. Source: lylouannephotos.blogspot.com with the original on Flickr.

One of the ancient Oriza bottles, in baccarat crystal as many used to be. The name of this one translates to “Violets Prince Albert” and it seems to be the Grand Prize winner at the 1900 World Fair. Source: lylouannephotos.blogspot.com with the photo originally from Flickr.

Then, alas, things came to a crashing halt in the 1930s, and obviously WWII didn’t help matters. The house completely died.

THE RETURN OF ORIZA L. LEGRAND:

Franck Belaiche. Source: Flair Flair.

Franck Belaiche. Source: Flair Flair.

Decades later, a perfume lover stumbled across the Oriza name while doing research in a library. It was Franck Belaiche. As he told Flair Flair in the interview linked above, his background was in the movie and television industry, but he loved perfumes. So, he bought the brand with the goal of putting it back on its feet:

I’d spotted Oriza Legrand while doing some research and reading in libraries. Soon, I was fascinated by its story and how it was a precursor of so many things. The house seemed to me like it was one of the creating actors of today’s perfumery.  […]

What did you think when you bought it? What did you want to do with it?
I wanted to make it modern while keeping its essence and soul intact. I first had to select, among the 80 fragrances that had been created, which ones were likely to be adapted, reworked from their original formulas, and still be appealing. A good number of them are not easy to wear, especially since Raynaud and the steam extraction technique gave birth to many florals. But there were also a few synthetic molecules which allowed the creation of what we would call today “orientals”. I’ve had to work with the labs to see what we could do based on the formulas and also on the juices, since I have managed to get hold of some old, full bottles. I wanted to get close to the old perfumes while making them modern, without betraying them.

So from the beginning you wanted to make these formulas contemporary? It was never about saying “This is exactly what perfume smelled like back then”?
No, and let’s face it, that would have been impossible. First because of the raw materials that we can no longer use, and also because it would have mean making sent-bon (French for smell good). Besides, although these fragrances were high quality, they correspond to a time that is not necessarily ours. With Déjà le Printemps, just like the three others, we are very close to the original, but there is this little something that makes it modern. Careful though, reworking a fragrance does not mean making it attractive to a majority. Right now, I am working on the next two perfumes, which will come out at the end of January.

The whole 2012 interview is fascinating, excellent, and really informative. I urge any of you who may be interested in the technical aspects of how ancient fragrances are brought back to life, to read it in full. It addresses everything from the work process with the laboratory in Grasse and its chemists and perfumers, to the way that perfumes have changed since the time of Louis XV, and the company’s future plans. You can also learn more about Oriza, its current ownership, and the reconstruction of its scents from the lovely Caro of Te de Violetas who interviewed Mr. Belaiche back in September of this year.

One part I found interesting in the Flair Flair interview was Mr. Belaiche’s explanation for why all the new “re-edits” of the original Oriza line pertained to its 1900-era fragrances, instead of the 1720s one. As he explains, it would not have been easy to do a tweaked version of something like Violette du Tsar, a perfume created for the Tsar of Russia. Moreover, “not a lot of people would have enjoyed it, and then starting with old perfumes didn’t seem to me like a relevant way of bringing the house back to life.” (But aren’t you dying to know what that may have smelled like?!) Clearly, Mr. Belaiche is not trying to recreate fragrances merely for the sake of nostalgia and historical curiosity. Instead, he wants to do the house proper justice by making Oriza a viable, current, commercially successful brand with a long-term future. In other words, he’s not trying to create a museum, but a living and breathing house that has a chance of success beyond just the initial curiosity factor.

The Relique d'Amour.  Source: Oriza L. Legrand website.

The Relique d’Amour. Source: Oriza L. Legrand website.

I met Mr. Belaiche when I went to the Oriza boutique, along with his business partner and fellow Oriza owner, Hugo Lambert. They were both charming and very kind, though Mr. Belaiche seemed to blink a little at the extent of my enthusiastic outbursts over the fragrances and their quality. I don’t think he’s used to someone babbling a thousand words of English a minute, mixed in with French, while sniffing everything, taking photos from every angle, suddenly stopping in their tracks to announce “Aha! Armagnac! This has aged cognac in it!” in response to one fragrance, and being the sort of whirlwind that is rather uncommon to the very restrained French. I hope he took it as the compliment that it is — there are many niche perfume houses these days, I’m extremely hard to please, and I rarely find a brand to have impressively sophisticated, high-quality, original, creative or luxurious offerings almost across the entire line.

Relique d'Amour poster. Source: Oriza L. Legrand website.

Relique d’Amour poster and perfume label. Source: Oriza L. Legrand website.

I’d like to thank Mr. Belaiche for letting me take photos of the boutique, and I can only apologise to him for my camera taking such poor photos. While I’m at it, I’d also like to thank Mr. Lambert for providing me with a small decant of the beautiful patchouli scent, Horizon, to go with my purchase, even though he had to dig up a long vial from the back. As a side note, I wish I had managed to take photos of all the vintage Oriza posters and adverts framed under glass in the store. They were fascinating, and I’m so glad the new owners have kept the brand’s aesthetic, both in terms of the feel of their boutique and their perfume’s packaging. I’m a complete sucker for Art Deco, so I love Oriza’s brightly coloured labels with the old-style, vintage fonts.

Without further ado, here are a few photos of the Oriza store on rue Saint-Augustin:

The exterior of the colourful store.

The exterior of the colourful store.

Oriza 4-B

One Oriza store window, featuring Chypre Mousse and some of its collection of vintage bowties.

One Oriza store window, featuring Chypre Mousse and some of its collection of vintage bowties.

Some of the soaps from the Oriza line.

Some of the soaps from the Oriza line, along with boxed perfumes wrapped in wonderfully old-fashioned, patterned paper.

Oriza 5 B

Part of the Oriza collection of bowties made out of vintage silk fabric.

Part of the Oriza collection of bowties made out of vintage silk fabric.

One of the bowties up close.

One of the bowties up close.

Some of the original 1900s posters and adverts for Oriza fragrances, now framed and under glass.

Some of the original 1900s posters and adverts for Oriza fragrances, now framed and under glass.

THE PERFUMES TODAY:

I think Oriza is going to go places simply because the majority of its perfumes really don’t smell like anything else that I’ve encountered. (Chypre Mousse…. oh, Chypre Mousse!!!) They have the classique feel of fragrances created in decades gone by, much like the very old Guerlains legends. It is a feel that — somehow, I don’t know how — seems miraculously untouched by the impact of IFRA. Like Sleeping Beauties put to sleep in 1900 and awakened today, the Oriza fragrances have body, layers of notes, a very rich, concentrated feel, and the elegant signature of something that is both very French and very “perfume.”

That said, I don’t think the perfumes are generally something that a novice perfumista with commercial tastes would relate to very well. These are not scents that someone used to Estée Lauder‘s Beautiful or Viktor & Rolf‘s Flowerbomb would understand. I think that perfumistas whose tastes skew towards uncomplicated, light, clean, and wispy scents would also struggle a little. None of the Oriza fragrances that I’ve tried thus far would qualify as “wispy” or simple — thank God. They’re nothing like the By Kilian‘s with their largely straightforward, basic nature, or sometimes gourmand fruitiness. They’re too purely French to be like an Amouage or a Neela Vermeire, though they sometimes share both those house’s opulent sophistication. They’re full-bodied and with a vintage feel in terms of both their potent richness, their complexity, and their sophistication. If you like the early Guerlains, the complicated originality of some Serge Lutens creations, or the sophisticated weight of Roja Dove’s fragrances, then Oriza L. Legrand will be for you.

Oriza's list of perfumes with their original date of production.

Oriza’s list of perfumes with their original date of production.

Thus far, Oriza has seven “returned” fragrances. The list of the eau de parfums with their original date of creation:

  • Relique D’Amour (1900)
  • Rêve d’Ossian (1900) -(Fragrantica gives a different debut date for Reve d’Ossian which it lists as a 1905 creation, but I’m going by what was listed in Oriza’s own shop window in Paris.)
  • Oeillet Louis XV (1909)
  • Jardins d’Armide (1909)
  • Chypre Mousse (1914) (Fragrantica incorrectly states that this one is from 1920.)
  • Déjà Le Printemps (1920)
  • Horizon (1925).
Jardins d'Armide. Source: Oriza L. Legrand website.

Jardins d’Armide. Source: Oriza L. Legrand website.

Though I haven’t finished testing the whole line yet, the ones I have loved the most thus far have been three. Chypre Mousse wins, hands down and by a landslide, as one of the most fascinating, haunting, evocative chypres I’ve smelled in ages. It is then followed with Horizon and Reve d’Ossian in a neck-and-neck position. The florals that I’ve briefly and cursorily tested thus far have sometimes smelled dated to me, though generally not in a bad way. Only one of those triggered a strongly negative reaction: Jardins d’Armide, which felt too painfully difficult and old-fashioned with its heavy powder and its soapy feel. However, my perception has to be put in the context of one who dislikes powdery scents, and who loathes anything soapy, even expensive floral soap!

So, what are the notes in some of my favorites? Oriza provides the following details for my top 3:

CHYPRE MOUSSE:

    • Top Notes tonic & balsamic: Wild mint, clary sage, wild fennel & green shoots.
    • Heart notes aromatic & flowing properties: Oakmoss, Galbanum, Angelica, fern, wild clover, Mastic & Violet leaves.
    • Backgrounds Notes mossy  & leathery: Vetiver, Pine Needles, Oak Moss, Mushroom fresh Humus, Roasted Chestnut Leather, labdanum & Balms.
Reve d'Ossian label. Source: Oriza L. Legrand.

Reve d’Ossian label. Source: Oriza L. Legrand.

REVE D’OSSIAN:

    • Top Notes: Frankincense and Pine woods.
    • Heart Notes: Cinnamon, Benzoin, Tonka Bean and Opopanax [sweet myrrh].
    • Base Notes: Tolu Balm, Sandalwood, Leather, Labdanum, Amber and Musks.
Horizon. Source: Oriza L. Legrand.

Horizon. Source: Oriza L. Legrand.

HORIZON:

    • Top Notes: Bitter orange, Tangerine Confit & Dried Rose.
    • Heart Notes: Cognac Amber, Aromatic Tobacco Leaves, Cocoa, Roasted Almonds, Old Oak & Patchouli.
    • Base Notes: Benzoin, Amber Gray [ambergris], Peat, Tabac Blond, Vanilla, Honey & Soft Leather.
Chypre Mousse. Source: Oriza L. Legrand.

Chypre Mousse. Source: Oriza L. Legrand.

One thing that I need to emphasize about many of these note lists is that I don’t think they accurately convey the real nature of the fragrances. One reason is that the perfumes are superbly blended and a bit linear, so that you often get an overall effect, rather than a detailed, distinctive sense of each of their parts. For another, something about many of these fragrances is… well, for lack of a better term, other-worldly. I’ll be honest and say that one reason why I’ve put off reviewing Chypre Mousse is that I’m not sure I could even BEGIN to describe it properly and in-depth. I’m not one who is usually at a loss for descriptors or olfactory adjectives, but Chypre Mousse may be beyond my abilities. The smell is simply like nothing I’ve encountered.

Given how many of the perfumes really are a “sum total” effect due to their seamless, fluid, often linear structure, I fear I’m merely going to have to give descriptive snippets of each. At times, my account may amount to instinctive abstractions, as in the case of Relique d’Amour:

RELIQUE D’AMOUR:

    • Top notes: Fresh Herbs, Pine.
    • Middle notes: Powdery Notes, White Lily, Pepper, Oak, Incense, Myrrh, Elemi.
    • Base notes: Musk, Moss, Waxed Wood, Woody Notes, Pepper.

Oriza describes it as “the smell of an old chapel of Cistercian abbey.” I think that gives a misleading impression of the perfume, as do the notes themselves. It is far from a dusty, cold, dark, foresty, woody, High Church olibanum/myrrh scent. To me, it’s a very complex, unusual, quite twisted take on a lily scent that actually feels like a Serge Lutens, only very old in nature. Relique d’Amour is different, original, and stands out a mile away — and it won’t be easy to summarize it in the upcoming review. [UPDATE 11/6 — You can find my reviews of the full Oriza line at the following links: Chypre Mousse, Horizon and Reve d’Ossian in one post; and the 4 remaining, largely floral fragrances in this second post.]

All in all, I think Oriza L. Legrand is a line that is definitely worth exploring. Though there are no U.S. retailers (yet), it’s easy to order directly from the company. In addition to the full bottles of the perfumes, they offer a sample set of the complete line. It’s quite inexpensive at €9 for 7 fragrances that come in 2 ml vials, thereby giving you quite a few test wearings. I think it’s well worth the minimal cost, and I believe Oriza ships the samples world-wide. If you’d like to sniff very elegant, very French, perfumed Sleeping Beauties, brought back to life after more than a century and in a largely unchanged form, give Oriza a try.  

PRACTICAL DETAILS:
WebsiteOriza L. Legrand. There is an actual e-Store that offers perfume samples. All 7 fragrances in the range are offered in 2 ml spray vials for €9. Shipping is listed as €9 extra, but a friend said he was charged only €7. The perfumes themselves are all eau de parfum in concentration, and cost €120 for 100 ml/3.4 oz. Store address: 18 rue Saint-Augustin, 75002 Paris, France. Hours: Monday – Friday: 10:00 am to 7:30 pm; Saturday: 1:00 pm to 7:30 pm. Metro: Opéra ou 4 Septembre. Phone: 01 71 93 02 34. Other vendors in Europe: For a few other French vendors, as well as one store in Sweden and one in the Netherlands, you can check Oriza Points of Sale page. The Netherlands retailer is Parfumaria.