Guerlain Jicky Eau de Parfum: Clair de Lune

Posted on June 5, 2014 by Kafkaesque

Source: space.desktopnexus.com

Elegance that defies time and age, the crystal clear clarity of moonlight, the refinement of a dandy with the soft warmth of the lady, the natural freshness of an aromatic country garden, and a play on light and dark, cleanness and dirtiness. Those are a few of the things encapsulated for me by Jicky, a Guerlain legend that just celebrated its 125th birthday and is reportedly the oldest fragrance in continuous production. In this review, I’ll focus on modern Jicky, solely because it is the version most people have access to, and limit myself to the Eau de Parfum concentration, often called Parfum de Toilette. The eau de toilette is most common form of the scent, with the lightest, freshest, and most citrusy aspects, but I think the PDT/EDP may be truest to the spirit of the original Jicky.

The gold bottle of Jicky in EDP or PDT concentration. Source: FragranceX

Jicky was created in 1889 by Aimé Guerlain. The legend is that he created it in memory of a girl he loved whose nickname was “Jicky,” though it seems that he may have named it after his nephew instead. It is a fragrance that is considered one of the very first “modern” creations, both in terms of its use of synthetically extracted molecules and in terms of being truly unisex. In fact, Jicky seems to have been originally marketed as a men’s fragrance before women took it over for their own. I think it is a masterpiece that anyone of any gender who enjoys aromatic perfumes centered on lavender should try for themselves. Continue reading →

Mona di Orio Violette Fumée (Les Nombres d’Or)

Posted on June 1, 2014 by Kafkaesque

Source: Fragrantica

Violette Fumée is a fresh, citric floral musk from Mona di Orio that was posthumously released in 2013 as part of her Nombres d’Or Collection. Madame di Orio was a very talented perfumer who died tragically at the age of 41 in 2011 from post-surgical complications, and Violette Fumée was her last creation. It was originally made as a personal, private gift to her business partner and the company’s co-founder, Jeroen Oude Sogtoen, based on his favorite notes. He decided to release the scent publicly in 2013 as an homage to her.

Source: Luckyscent

Violette Fumée is described as an “eau de parfum intense” on the Mona di Orio website, and also as an “Oriental Balsamic Floral.” The official description for the fragrance is interesting, as it discusses some elements that are not actually included in the accompanying note list:

With the creation of Violette Fumée, Mona composed the melody of my favorite passions, memories and materials.

With flirty florals like violet and rose fumed with pipe tobacco, the exquisite smoothness of cashmere and suede, and deep resinous undertones, this warmly smoldering scent evokes my sensorial love for luxury, and makes me feel, dream, travel and remember.

Revved at the start, crisp, fresh notes of herbal lavender and sparkling bergamot pair with inky oakmoss and get a twist as the scent unfolds into the elegance of vetiver and clary sage.

The shy violet and iconic rose develop into a powdery and gourmand fume and then ramp up as spicy and savory notes of aphrodisiac saffron and smoky bois de gaiac communicate with the florals and begin to ignite.

The smoldering continues as resinous opoponax, myrrh, and musky cashmeran dive slowly into an intense velvety embrace.

Top notes: Mediterranean Lavender, Bergamot from Calabria, Oakmoss from the Balkans
Heart notes: Violet flowers and leaves from Egypt, Turkish Rose, Vetiver from Haiti, Clary Sage
Base notes: Opoponax and Myrrh from Somalia, Cashmeran.

As you can see from the description, saffron, tobacco, and guaiac wood are mentioned, but they do not appear on the actual list of notes. I detected small, minute traces of the last two notes, but not the saffron.

Source: naturesgardencandles.com

Violette Fumée opens on my skin as a very cool citrus, aromatic, and floral bouquet. There is crisp, chilled bergamot and pungent, herbal lavender, followed by dewy, metallic violets, its crunchy green leaves, and tendrils of light, sheer smoke. The violets smell slightly dewy and liquidy, but primarily carry the aroma of its crunchy, fuzzy, peppered leaves. There is a metallic sharpness that violets can sometimes demonstrate, but the note is also accentuated here by clean, synthetic, white musk. Touches of clary sage waft about, emitting a slight soapiness amidst the plant’s lavender and leathery undertones. Vetiver trails behind it, smelling both green and mineralized.

Oakmoss or tree moss.

A few minutes later, another green note arrives on the scene: oakmoss. Like the vetiver, it initially has a mineralized aspect and doesn’t smell plushly green. Yet, it is not completely the grey, fusty, dusty, more pungent version, either. It lies somewhere in-between, supplemented by the bergamot to prevent the mosses from feeling too austere. As a whole, Violette Fumée is a visual palette of green, yellow and purple, with small streaks of black. It is initially a very cool fragrance in temperature as well, thanks largely to the chilliness of the crisp bergamot and the violet’s floral liquidity.

The black smoke that ties the aromatic, citric and floral elements together is very muted on my skin. It is a subtle touch which I wish were far stronger. Interestingly, the first time I wore Violette Fumée, the smokiness was much more apparent than on my two subsequent tests and I have to wonder if temperature was responsible as it was far cooler that first time around. Yet, even so, if I were to quantify the smoke on a scale of 1 to 10 with 10 being the highest, it was a 3 in my first test and perhaps a 1.5 at best on subsequent occasions. In short, rather minor as a whole. Even more minor is the tobacco undertone that I detected in one test, but which never subsequently reappeared.

Violet Leaf via gaertner-und-florist.at

Violette Fumée slowly shifts, though by very fractional degrees. After 10 minutes, the fragrance feels softer and warmer. The bergamot’s zesty briskness turns sweeter, while the lavender and clary sage lose some of their sharp, herbal pungency. The violets grow stronger, their scent feeling more floral now than just the crunchy, piquant green leaves. Their dewiness and metallic edge fade away, though the clean musk remains. In fact, the latter’s synthetic sharpness is consistently intertwined with the bergamot note, resulting in a clean lemoniness that I think has a very harsh edge. It continues largely unabated until the very end of Violette Fumée’s development on my skin, and it is the thing that I like the least about the perfume.

Source: funny-pictures.picphotos.net

Violette Fumée begins to turn abstract and wispy 45 minutes into its development. There are fluctuating levels of greenness, but the smokiness has faded away, along with the lavender and clary sage. The oakmoss feels almost nebulous, more like an abstract suggestion than anything clearly delineated. In fact, many of Violette Fumée’s notes lose their distinct shape, except for violet and the lemony musk, and the perfume feels very sheer.

What appears instead is a generalized, rather amorphous woodiness. Neither the guaiac nor the cashmeran are detectable in any individual way, but they blend in with the other notes to create a sort of nebulous, “woody musk” cocoon in which the violets are nestled. The cashmeran is noticeable mostly through the growing touch of creaminess in Violette Fumée’s base, almost like shea. By the 90-minute mark, the perfume is primarily a fresh, violet floral scent with strong bergamot musk and a touch of sweetness, all resting upon a thin base of creamy woods. A hint of vetiver lingers in the background, but there is no smokiness, very little sense of oakmoss, and only a suggestion of crisp greenness. The perfume now lies just an inch, at best, above my skin.

As a whole, Violette Fumée is a very airy, lightweight fragrance with soft, quiet sillage. Three smears amounting to 2 small spritzes from an actual bottle gave me 2 inches in projection. Applying a larger quantity did not significantly change that number. By the end of the second hour, the perfume is a skin scent on me and feels very thin.

Artist unknown. Source: pinterest via eBay.

At the start of the 3rd hour, Violette Fumée is a fresh, light, largely abstract floral with a vague suggestion of violets, followed by sharp, synthetic, lemony musk, all atop a base of generic woodiness with creaminess. As a whole, the perfume feels very clean and has something of a soapy nuance, thanks to the fabric softener musk. The impression of greenness has completely disappeared, but a slight powderiness has taken its place.

Violette Fumée remains largely unchanged for hours to come. The rose makes a quiet appearance at the end of the 6th hour, but it feels thin, pink, and very wan. The general bouquet is now primarily an abstract “floral” accord dominated by citric cleanness and a touch of vague woodiness. Even the creaminess in the base feels more muted and thin. In its final moments, Violette Fumée is a blur of something floral and clean. All in all, the perfume consistently lasted between 10 and 11 hours, largely because my skin holds onto clean musk synthetics like the devil.

Photo: My own.

Violette Fumée has generally received very good reviews, both from bloggers and on Fragrantica. The Non-Blonde writes, in part:

Violette Fumée is a gender-bending fragrance. Smoke and flowers, delicate tendrils and petals against musky creamy wood. Pipe tobacco that has an almost fruity core, a rich texture with a modern sensibility. I wanted to describe the dry-down as a purple cloak, but that’s a bit over the top, while Mona di Orio created Violette Fumée as a wearable and sophisticated personal fragrance for a man with an impeccable urbane taste.

The musky dry-down is of the slightly fruity kind, round, rich and satisfying. It still has those purple fumes surrounding it, and I feel an urge to lose myself in this mist. Despite all of that and the high concentration of the juice, Violette Fumée is not a heavy perfume. Applied moderately, it’s somewhere between a skin scent and a fashion accessory that you notice but doesn’t steal the show from your words.

“Green-purpel Fractal by Aqualoop31.” Source: aqualoop31.deviantart.com

For The Scented Hound, Violette Fumée was also a lovely experience, one which reminded him of a “page from a 19th century botanical illustrative leather bound book.” He writes, in part:

Violette Fumee opens with the most beautiful lavender and bergamot combination; it’s herbal and refreshing in a creamy comforting way. After a few minutes, the fragrance starts to warm and become deeper as a beefy oakmoss emerges from the bottom that envelopes and seems to fold over the lavender. After about 10 minutes or so, the violet seems to make an appearance from the edge of the fragrance. I know this is going to sound strange, but it’s appearance is like prairie dogs popping their head out of the ground. What I mean is that the violet doesn’t come out at once, but seems to pop in and out until eventually you feel like you are surrounded by violets tinged with rose. Violette Fumee at this point still retains its creaminess but it becomes slightly brighter without becoming sheer. What I love about this is that the herbal aspects of the fragrance keep this from becoming too floral and pretty which allow Violette Fumee to retain a substantive elegance. After some time, the myrrh and opoponax emerge from below and a slight suede provides for a beautiful finish to this multi-faceted fragrance.

Source: parfumi.net

On Fragrantica, most people seem to adore Violette Fumée, with some comparing it to Chanel‘s No. 19 and Cristalle. For example, “kxnaiades” writes, in part:

Violette Fumee is like no other violet scent I’ve come across. I thought Lez Nez’s Unicorn Spell and CDG Stephen Jones were different and unique takes on violet. Mona di Orio’s Violet Fumee pretty much blazes past these and leaves them in her smoke, in terms of originality. This really has to be sat down with and taken time with to enjoy, it’s complex and does not reveal it’s entirety in the first half hour. I agree that it’s opening reminds me alot of Cristalle and the like. Cristalle opens cold and unreachable on me, just like Violette Fumee did. I know perfectly well what clary sage smells like now, the leathery note was clearly in the icy herbal opening. However, making friends does take time and I was patient. My faith was well-placed and with time, the chill air left and I was greeted with a fresh violet with its leaves still green and perky, resins and woods. I much much prefer the warmer drydown to the opening so thankfully this lasts very well on my skin with a single spritz. This is not an easy scent to like, but neither were Cristalle or No. 19 for me intially, but now is a different story from then. Violette Fumee is not for those looking for a sweet violet pastille scent. It’s a decidedly unisex take on violet with a bold entrance and uncompromising quality I’ve come to expect from Mona di Orio. This is no shrinking violet.

Source: raymichemin.canalblog.com

For “Mick Trick,” Violet Fumée didn’t remind him of any Chanels but he also really liked the scent, though he does note that the “fumee” aspect was barely noticeable on his skin. He writes, in part:

Violette Fumee opens with a fresh sparkly triumvirate of green violet leaf, a splash of golden effervescent honeyed bergamot and subtle herbal lavender. Towards the heart the violet flower builds, an ultra-fine polished smooth powderiness is present but checked and never overwhelms, as opoponax adds resinous sweetness and a creaminess to the violet, forming the languorous sinuous and slightly shimmering heart of the fragrance. There’s also a very subtle tobacco note appearing at the beginning of the drydown, although I noticed this only on the second full wearing. At late drydown the violet flower recedes and watery violet leaf endures with a soft suede musky aspect (must be the cashmeran).

As others have noted the ‘fumee’ aspect is noticeable by its absence. Although I experienced a couple of phantom smokey tendrils that are gone as soon as I noticed then. It lays close and after around 4 hours is really a skin scent, however I experienced +12 hours longevity, on fabric it’s also +next day material. Not bad at all. There is a sweetness to VF, but it always retains a freshness and never threatens to become cloying. I’ve worn it now three times in the last four days, it’s got a subtle luxurious allure that keeps me coming back for more, I like it very much.

There are only two negative reviews for the fragrance:

Awful, smoky and cheap, totally synth. [¶] Crazy price, sillage bad, longevity bad. [¶] Thumbs down.

The drydown smells on me like Earl Grey tea leaves.

Violet Fumée is not cheap at $330 or €230, though the bottle is a 100 ml. I don’t think it feels like an eau de parfum at all, something that one Fragrantica commentator also mentioned. For me, the perfume is very over-priced for what it is, and I don’t find its quality to be impressive. The bergamot musk dominated much of the drydown on my skin, which is perhaps why that last quote from Fragrantica mentions “Earl Grey tea leaves,” but it is the sharpness of the synthetic that I found to be particularly objectionable. For $330, I’d like a lot more than citric fabric softener emanating from my skin — and a sheer, wispy, thin, largely abstract floral-woody-musk isn’t it.

In all fairness, I despise clean, white musk — in anything — and other people don’t have the same issues with the note. They also are not so sensitive to synthetics which my skin amplifies quite a bit. Plus, as I’ve tried to make clear, I’m in a distinct, tiny minority regarding this scent. Everyone else seems to be a fan. So, if you love violet fragrances and clean, fresh florals as a whole, then you may want to give Violette Fumée a sniff.

DETAILS:

Cost, Sizes, Sets & Availability: Violette Fumée is an eau de parfum, and is available in two different options or sizes. The full bottle is 3.4 oz/100 ml and costs $330, €230, or £195. It is available world-wide on the Mona di Orio website which also sells a 5 ml roll-on bottle for €20. However, Violette Fumée is not one of the fragrances included in the usual MdO Travel set of 3 minis or in the Nombres d’Or Discovery Set of 8 x 5ml bottles. In the U.S.: Violette Fumée is sold at Luckyscent, Parfum1, and MinNewYork. All three places sell samples. Outside the U.S: In the UK, you can find Violette Fumée at Les Senteurs which sells it for £195, and also offers a sample vial for sale. Mona di Orio’s full line can also be found at Roullier White. In Europe, Violette Fumée is sold at Premiere Avenue, Jovoy, and First in Fragrance. The Mona di Orio line is also sold at Essenza Nobile. In Paris, Mona di Orio is sold at Marie Antoinette, and you can email Antonio to purchase. In the Netherlands, the line is offered at ParfuMaria and Skin Cosmetics. In the United Arab Emirates, Mona di Orio is sold at Harvey Nichols. In Australia, Melbourne’s Peony Haute Parfumerie carries the brand. For all other countries from Russia to Spain, you can use the Store Locator guide on the company website. Samples: Samples are available at Surrender to Chance starting at $4.50 for a 1/2 ml vial, at Luckyscent, Parfum1, and many of the European retailers linked to above.

The Perfume Industry & EU Regulations

Posted on May 26, 2014 by Kafkaesque

There is a new Reuters article on what is going to happen with EU perfume regulation, and I found it interesting for reasons other than the usual repetition of how oakmoss is going to be banned. What is significant about the piece to me is what certain perfume houses said bluntly, what others did not, and the tonal shift amongst some industry leaders. So, I’m going to spend some time analyzing how various perfume brands are reacting to the EU proposals, now versus the past. In terms of actual regulatory news, the Reuters article talks a little about the small 90-day window for public consultation which just ended on May 14th, and the next steps in the legislative process. I’ll cover that, too.

BACKGROUND:

Oakmoss or tree moss.

Let’s start with some background if you’re unfamiliar with the convoluted details of the EU situation. As noted in my prior piece on perfume regulation, a 2012 Advisory Committee had offered certain draconian suggestions to the EU regulatory body on widespread restrictions of 12 ingredients. These were mere suggestions, but, as noted in a 2013 post I wrote, it had already led the perfume industry to begin changes to formulas of existing perfumes. To bring you up to date on the current situation, and to put it in a nutshell, the EU is currently:

planning on completely banning oakmoss, tree moss, and HICC, a synthetic that replicates the smell of lily of the valley (or muguet).
deliberating on how much 9 other key, very essential ingredients should be restricted and to what levels they should be limited. As the new Reuters article explains, these other ingredients include citral, found in lemon and tangerine oils; coumarin, found in tropical tonka beans; and eugenol, found in rose oil.”
deliberating on what sort of perfume labeling should be required.

Now, all of this is the exact same situation we faced when I wrote my earlier piece back in February of this year, but part of what the new Reuters article talks about is the public reaction to those proposals and the results of the consultation window where the EU sought opinion from those in the industry and its citizens. The article is called “Perfume industry braces for tough new EU rules” and was written by Astrid Wendlandt and Pascale Denis. It also talks about what the next steps in this process will be, but I found it interesting primarily for what I think it reveals about the various perfume companies and industry leaders, like Frederic Malle, Chanel, and LVMH.

THE PERFUME INDUSTRY RESPONSE:

Frederic Malle. Source: Paris.com

My favorite quote from Monsieur Malle in the new article pertains to the EU’s plans to restrict citral, though to what level we do not yet know:

“If we ban citral from perfumes, of which certain elements are allergens, we should ban orange juice. It is absurd. We should not ban nature, only learn how to live with it,” said Frederic Malle, who founded the French luxury perfume company Editions de Parfums Frederic Malle. [Emphasis added.]

Monsieur Malle also informed the reporters that he is already reformulating his fragrances:

Frederic Malle said he was forced to reformulate about a quarter of his scents due to the upcoming EU regulations, leading to extra costs – but costs which he found difficult to quantify as they also represented time invested to rework the formulas.

“It can take more than six months to reformulate a perfume, and a minimum of some 30 tests … and this is precious time that cannot be spent on creating new perfumes. So to protect a small portion of the population, we are making the rest suffer,” he said.

Note how very candid, blunt, and frustrated his comments are, and then compare them to the very gingerly worded, rather generic e-mail statements issued by Chanel and LVMH in the article. Chanel is quoted on the issue of the oakmoss ban which is going to severely impact several of its most famous fragrances, particularly Chanel No. 5. In talking about the oakmoss ban, the article states:

Source: entertainment.desktopnexus.com

Such mosses could be found in Chanel’s No.5 and Dior’s Miss Dior but the brands have been working on using altered versions, stripped of the molecules atranol and chloroatranol, regarded as potential allergens by the EU.

“Adapting is a challenge but it is precisely the talent of our “nose” to be able to preserve the qualities and olfactive (scent) identity of our perfumes while also taking into account new regulatory constraints,” Chanel said in an e-mailed statement.

That’s all Chanel seems to be willing to say on the record, which is consistent with prior articles where they have either refused to comment entirely, or the reporters have implied that Chanel doesn’t want to talk about what it’s doing to its perfumes in response to the EU situation.

As for the other luxury companies, the Reuters piece only had this to say:

Hermes as well as Dior and Guerlain – [the latter 2] both owned by LVMH – have also been preparing themselves for the new rules by progressively changing their formulas.

“The European Commission approach guarantees the security of consumers and preserves Europe’s olfactive heritage,” LVMH said in an e-mailed statement. Hermes, Dior and Guerlain declined to comment. [Emphasis to names added by me.]

Mitsouko, a LVMH fragrance from Guerlain that has already been impacted badly by EU/IFRA regulations. Photo source: Guerlain.com

LVMH’s comments demonstrate a distinct change in tone, if you ask me. Back in the earlier Reuters article that was the focus of my January 1, 2013 post on the widespread split in the industry, the journalists said this:

LVMH, which owns Dior and Guerlain, and Chanel are lobbying Brussels to protect their perfumes, many of which were created decades ago.

“It is essential to preserve Europe’s olfactory cultural heritage,” LVMH told Reuters in an emailed statement.

What a difference. Before, we had an industry leader demonstrating a willingness to fight and telling journalists that it was lobbying Brussels in order “to preserve Europe’s olfactory cultural heritage” against the proposed EU regulations. Now, we now have the exact same company saying that it is the European Commission’s approach which “preserves Europe’s olfactive heritage.” There is a night and day difference between those two LVMH statements.

My guess is that companies do not want to appear to be working against regulations that have been presented as protecting consumers. You and I know that the EU regulations are based on iffy science and the mere possibility that some tiny, minute portion of the population may perhaps, one day, maybe, hypothetically get a skin rash — but the general public does not. The way all of this is being presented on the surface is that the EU is kindly and benignly working in the public good. Companies may not want to risk the negative PR from appearing to be against regulations that are ostensibly intended to protect consumers. In truth, their fears aren’t wholly illogical. It’s not impossible to imagine tabloid headlines from ragsheets like the Daily Mirror or News of the World screaming, “Greedy Chanel wants to keep its massive perfume profits from Chanel No. 5 even if it makes consumers sick!”

Chanel’s jewellery window at Le Place Vendome. Photo: my own.

I think that is the only explanation for why some brands refuse to publicly discuss the EU changes at all. Consider Chanel’s bland statement on how its noses are talented enough to compensate for the total oakmoss ban in its most famous fragrances, and then compare it with Frederic Malle’s outraged bluntness on the complete idiocy of the situation. Do you think Frederic Malle doesn’t have the most talented noses who could also deal with the oakmoss situation? He does, but he’s willing to publicly stand up for the perfume makers in this battle perhaps because his company is not a multi-national conglomerate that puts out everything from skin care to fashion and expensive diamond jewellery.

His business is limited primarily to perfume, so he is in a much more life-and-death struggle. And he’s said so, bluntly. Back in that earlier Reuters piece which I keep talking about, Malle said:

“If this law goes ahead I am finished, as my perfumes are all filled with these ingredients,” said Frederic Malle…. The impact on luxury perfume brands as a whole would, he said, be “like an atomic explosion and we would not have the means to rebuild ourselves.”

Chanel’s 1932.

Here, in the current 2014 Reuters article, Malle talks candidly about how he is already reformulating his fragrances. Contrast that to what Chanel and others had to say in the earlier Reuters article:

Chanel declined to comment on whether it has ever changed the formula of its world-famous perfume, as did Guerlain, Dior and luxury brand Hermes, which all make high-end perfumes using natural ingredients.

“No comment” in this context pretty much speaks volumes, if you ask me.

I’ve seen the same divide in article after article. Frederic Malle is consistently the most blunt and critical; LVMH (owner of Guerlain and Dior) is never critical but is usually quite direct about its views of the EU regulations; Chanel sometimes makes a rare, always bland statement that never attacks IFRA or the EU, and is never about anything of any significance whatsoever; and Hermès lets the other luxury manufacturers fight its battles.

L’Oreal’s La Vie Est Belle, by Lancome. Source: myfdb.com

In the meantime, L’Oreal essentially smirks in the corner and appears not to give a damn, perhaps because a good chunk of its creations for such brands as YSL, Lancome, Viktor & Rolf, and many others are rather synthetic concoctions. The earlier 2012 Reuters article is much more tactful than I am about L’Oreal, probably because they aren’t nursing a serious grudge against the company as I most definitely am for what they’ve done to YSL perfumes. So, Reuters says only:

L’Oreal, however, already uses many synthetic ingredients in its perfumes and is thus keeping a low profile on the issue, industry representatives said.

Other companies making perfumes on an industrial scale for luxury brands, such as IFF, Givaudan and Firmenich, are less concerned about the SCCS proposal because they can rely on synthetic materials and make new perfumes using them but the restrictions, if enforced, would force them to reformulate many of their scents on a scale never seen before.

Givaudan and L’Oreal declined to comment for this report.

Pierre Sivac, President of IFRA. Source: Cosmeticsbusiness.com

Yes, I’m quite sure that Givaudan declined to comment…. Speaking of the aroma-chemical giant, and its toady servant, IFRA, I found it interesting that the new Reuters article on the current situation did not discuss the perfume industry’s supposed representative. In fact, there was not one single mention of IFRA in the whole piece. Yet, IFRA was positively bowing at the EU’s feet back in February, rubbing their hands approvingly at the proposed restrictions. The Reuters piece from back then that I talked about in part in my previous post has IFRA’s president saying:

“We broadly welcome the proposed measures,” said Pierre Sivac, president of the International Fragrance Association [IFRA], the perfume industry’s self-regulatory body…. which is financed by scent makers such as Givaudan, New York-listed International Flavors & Fragrances and Germany’s Symrise [….] [Emphasis added by me.]

THE NEXT STEPS IN THE PROCESS & LABELING:

So, what is happening now and in the upcoming months? Well, according to the new Reuters article, we should get a report in July about the results of the open discussion period and what issues were raised. The article says,

[t]he consultation triggered more than 200 responses from industry players, consumers’ associations and researchers, which the EU said was a relatively high number.

“This has stirred quite a lot of passion,” said Hudson of the European Commission.

The Berlaymont building in Brussels, headquarters of the European Commission. Photo and source: acmphoto.photoshelter.com

The European Commission’s headquarters at the Berlaymont building in Brussels. Photo and source: acmphoto.photoshelter.com

Then, in August, a proposed amendment of the 2009 Cosmetics Regulation act with the new rules is expected to be sent to individual EU member nations. In September, a final version might be sent to the overall EU Council and Parliament. At that point, there would be 3 months in which the governing body or individual members could oppose it. I assume at the end of that time, roughly in December 2014, the whole thing would come to a final vote, but I’m rather hazy on how the EU legislative rules work. The bottom line, however, seems to be that January 2015 will be the start of a different perfume landscape.

Two issues remain open for further discussion and fine-tuning before they are submitted to any legislative body for consideration. Specifically, the question of how much 9 of the 12 targeted ingredients (like the citral mentioned above) should be restricted, and then the exact nature of labeling that will be mandated. With regard to the latter, the new Reuters article states:

The regulations will also require perfume makers to inform consumers about potential allergens contained in their products but it has not yet decided how this will work in practice and how many of them should be labelled.

It has raised the number of ingredients that must be labelled from 26 to more than 80 and is looking at ways to allow perfume makers to provide information about them on the Internet or through smartphone scans to avoid having to cram them on the package.

80 seems like a lot, but it’s a little less than the 100 which the Advisory Committee initially suggested a long time ago. What always amuses me about the labeling situation is what happened in 2005 when consumer groups forced an EU amendment requiring perfume companies to list 26 potentially allergenic ingredients on their bottles. According to the old Reuters piece, the perfume companies did so… in Latin!

Part of the problem for perfume companies when it comes to label lists seems to be that they don’t have any intellectual property protection. As the old Reuters piece explains:

Most perfume brands are reluctant to label their products. Unlike artists and writers, perfume creators have no intellectual property rights to the fragrances they compose for big brands, and so perfume brands fight hard to keep their formulas hidden.

Of course, it’s always possible to ascertain the ingredients in a particular fragrance by putting it through highly specialised machines that will detect not only the various elements, but the proportions thereof. That’s how cheap copies and fakes are already made. Yet, obviously, things become much easier if the full list is provided by the company itself under mandate of law. The proportions may not be there, but everything else would be.

If perfume companies are going to be forced to label their products down to the smallest minutiae, it seems only fair that parallel legislation be pushed through to confer intellectual property protection at the same time. Unfortunately, I haven’t heard of any such proposals. If any of you have, I’d love to hear about it.

In the midst of all this, perfume lovers have little choice but to wait and see how events transpire. This brings me to the Parfumo Petition which I told you about some weeks ago. It was delivered to Brussels on May 14th with 2,500 signatures. A press release statement recently sent to me by Angelika Foerster of Parfumo reads:

From the standpoint of the individuals fighting on behalf of the art of perfumery, 2,500 signatures cannot be overlooked in Brussels or dismissed as “insignificant”. Moreover, the campaign is ongoing and additional signatures will be collected after the petition is submitted. “The issue will not go unnoticed in EU everyday routine”, Foerster foresees. “We’ll continue to buttress our point of view with more and more signatures. The only thing that will stop us is if the commission acknowledges our position and thus revises the bill in an acceptable way.” Accordingly, signatures will continue to be collected at http://www.parfumo.de/petition – in favour of perfume and against overregulation.

In short, the petition is ongoing, so if you haven’t done so already, please sign it and spread the word. It doesn’t matter if you’re not an EU resident. “Signatures by non-EU citizens are welcome as per the Commission’s request for input from ‘any interested parties’.”

In the meantime, Hermes, Dior, Guerlain, Malle, and many others are already changing their perfumes. Over in the Middle East, it seems that IFRA/EU-like regulations are going to be adopted in places like the United Arab Emirates, with ripple effects already impacting Amouage’s production of its attars.

By one estimate, over 9,000 perfume formulas are going to be changed when this is all over, if they haven’t been already. In my opinion, that is probably a very conservative number, in part because it comes from the agenda-driven IFRA group. Given that there are well over 1,000 new fragrances which hit the market each year and the significant role of the 9 key ingredients which are being targeted for reduction, I suspect that overall figure may be higher. In short, 2015 may herald a new year in more ways than one.

Oriza L. Legrand Vetiver Royal Bourbon

Posted on May 24, 2014 by Kafkaesque

Source: Source: hdwallsource.com

The sky was green, swirled with mists of vetiver, mint, and herbs, but blackness hovered just on the horizon. Storm clouds of cade brought tar and campfire smoke, while leather, styrax and resins seeped up from a ground made earthy with brown tobacco absolute. A fine layering of wet leaves and moss lay strewn around, a last lingering sign of fall. A single small tent was visible in the vast expanse of blackened greenness, shining a golden ambered light. None of these things, however, could detract from the Aurora Borealis swirling all around, from the smoky vetiver and mint called Vetiver Royal Bourbon.

Vetiver Royal Bourbon is a newly released fragrance from the ancient house of Oriza L. Legrand (hereinafter just “Oriza“). It originally debuted in 1914, but it very much has the feel of a modern niche fragrance. In fact, it is rather like a lighter, thinner cousin to Profumum Roma‘s Fumidus, though there are definite differences. The similarity to a very bold, edgy, extremely distinctive scent like Fumidus makes Vetiver Royal Bourbon rather an amazing feat, given that the perfume is exactly 100 years old and has been only lightly re-tweaked for the modern era by Hugo Lambert, the nose behind the “new” Oriza fragrances and one of the brand’s two co-owners.

Source: Oriza L. Legrand.

Vetiver Royal Bourbon is an eau de parfum and part of Oriza’s relatively recent Soliflore Collection, a collection where all the fragrances are designed to highlight one specific note. The name in the title should tell you which one is the focus here, but Vetiver Royal Bourbon has a much larger ingredient list than you might expect. The perfume includes:

Top Notes: Peppermint, Thyme & Absolute Vetiver
Heart Notes: Cistus Labdanum [Amber], Iris, Vetiver Bourbon & Sandalwood.
Base Notes: Essence of Cade, Leather, Styrax, Immortelle, Tobacco, & Oakmoss.

Source: hdwallsource.com

Vetiver Royal Bourbon opens on my skin with vetiver, vetiver, and more vetiver. However, it is thoroughly intertwined with mint, aromatic herbs, and a eucalyptus-like mentholated camphor. The very green mix is followed by hints of smoky and phenolic, tarry blackness from the cade, as well as even lighter touches of brown tobacco. The whole thing is sprinkled with a subtle booziness that is quite hard to explain. It’s definitely not the single malt Scotch whisky of Fumidus, but it’s not really like purely ambered warmth, either. It lies somewhere between amber and the “bourbon” in the perfume’s title.

Source: wallpoper.com

At times, something about the overall opening combination feels very much like a vetiver and patchouli duet to me. The true, original, black patchouli note that was so common with hippies in the 1970s could be very green, with nuances of both peppermint and camphorated menthol. The really absolute, undiluted versions also have leathery, tobacco, and oily, turpentine nuances, as demonstrated by Farmacia SS. Annunziata Patchouly Indonesiano. In contrast, more ’80s-style patchouli was golden-brown-red, warm, woody, often infused with an ambered touch, and sometimes a little boozy.

Both styles of patchouli with all of their characteristics are reflected here with Vetiver Royal Bourbon’s opening bouquet, though the notes are subtle, and aren’t all equal in terms of their prominence. To be clear, Vetiver Royal Bourbon does not actually contain patchouli — of any kind. But the peppermint, cade, amber, tobacco, styrax all manage to replicate various aspects of the note, even if it is in indirect form. The only thing which is missing is the sweaty dirtiness of black patchouli. That is most certainly not visible in Vetiver Royal Bourbon, not by any means.

Vetiver roots, the primary source of the aroma. Photo: Herbariasoap.com

One of things I find interesting about Vetiver Royal Bourbon is how the vetiver plays off of the other notes. Vetiver can smell like a variety of things, depending on the place from which it is sourced or how it is treated. It can be earthy, dry, grassy, minty, rooty, mineralized, or sometimes a little like lemongrass. On my skin, Haitian vetiver frequently manifests a strong mintiness, something that not everyone else experiences.

Here, Oriza has used actual peppermint to accompany the note, which rather leads to a situation where I’m getting double the dose. It’s a little bit of a problem for me, as minty vetiver is really not my thing and, in fact, even mintiness from patchouli can be a bit difficult for me. With Vetiver Royal Bourbon, each and every time I mention the note, you should assume that it smells of both vetiver and mint. The two things are really inseparable in Vetiver Royal Bourbon, from the very start of the fragrance all the way until its dying breath.

Yet, there is much more going on in the perfume’s opening moments. Under the top layer of green vetiver-mint, there is a subtle touch of earthiness, no doubt from the tobacco, followed by campfire smoke from the cade, burnt resins dominated by the styrax, and tarry, blackened leather. The oakmoss is subtle, but it adds to the story, too, conjuring up images of wet leaves festooning the ground in a damp, very misty, foggy countryside on a fall day. Much more apparent is that streak of boozy amber that I talked about earlier.

Source: Facebook page of “Amazing Landscapes, Nature, Animals and Places.” Photographer may be Nergis İnan.

It all reminds me strongly of Profumum‘s famous (or, perhaps, infamous?) Fumidus, though there are sharp differences. There is no Laphroaig whisky here, no saltiness, no diesel touch, and no passing suggestion of a compost heap. The sense of something peaty from the vetiver is more muted, as is the black rubberiness from the cade. As a whole, Vetiver Royal Bourbon feels greener, more herbal, and slightly more medicinal, especially for the first hour. Fumidus doesn’t really have anything comparable to the eucalyptus-like camphorated note that is evident here, and the mint that I experienced is probably limited to my weird skin chemistry and the tricks it plays with vetiver in general. Plus, even then, the mintiness was milder.

Photo: My own.

Fumidus feels like a much black scent as a whole. While there is a definite streak of that in Vetiver Royal Bourbon, thanks to the cade and styrax, it feels much less substantial or heavy here. Fumidus has birch tar conjoined, arm in arm, with the vetiver, but the balance is different in Vetiver Royal Bourbon. I think the cade note trails in 3rd place in the Oriza scent behind the vetiver-mint. Then again, cade is very similar to birch tar. One perfumer told me that he sees cade as a more masculine note than its olfactory cousin, while I think it has a more turpentine-like quality. The thing is, both Fumidus and Vetiver Royal Bourbon demonstrate quite a bit of the latter.

In Oriza’s creation, the cade’s turpentine nuance starts to awaken 20 minutes into the perfume’s development, along with a certain tarriness. Black leather and sticky, smoky, styrax join it, as they seep upwards to coat the pungently green, minty vetiver. The end result is to substantially weaken the impression of patchouli, and it soon fades away entirely. The perfume also becomes much less earthy, though an occasional hint of thick, slightly dirty tobacco absolute lurks at the edges.

“Novemthree” by Olaf Marshall. Source: vitaignescorpuslignum.blogspot.com

From a distance, Vetiver Royal Bourbon’s predominant bouquet now is of a chewy, dense, slightly dirty, minty, smoked vetiver. And, by and large, it remains largely the same way until its very end, with only a few exceptions. As a soliflore, Vetiver Royal Bourbon is never going to be a complex, twisting, morphing creature. It is a very linear scent, but there are changes to the secondary notes, their prominence, and the perfume’s sillage. It’s largely a question of degree.

One of the bigger changes pertains to Vetiver Royal Bourbon’s weight. It opens as an incredibly light fragrance, sheer, and feels quite insubstantial at first. The perfume is miles away from Fumidus in this regard, as the Profumum scent has great opaqueness, heavy oiliness, and density. In contrast, the Oriza scent feels as light as air, even though the actual notes are relatively strong. Vetiver Royal Bourbon doesn’t have Chypre Mousse‘s forcefulness, but it feels more potent than many others from the line, including Muguet Fleuri.

The odd thing is how that wispiness changes. Vetiver Royal Bourbon never gets into Fumidus territory, but it does grow deeper, richer, and fuller over time. The first hint of it arrives after 20 minutes, as the labdanum, tobacco, and styrax stir in the base. An hour and a half into the perfume’s evolution, Vetiver Royal Bourbon’s leathery quality grows more pronounced in the foundation. Up top, the cade’s turpentine and smokiness start to overshadow the aromatic, herbal and mentholated camphor notes. Once in a while, there is almost a burning feeling to the scent, as though a vetiver wildland had been covered with black pitch and tarry asphalt, then set on fire. The perfume now feels much heavier that it did at the start, though Vetiver Royal Bourbon is still a light fragrance as a whole. To put it bluntly, Vetiver Royal Bourbon is no longer anorexic, because the vetiver has been fed a meal of richer notes.

Source: wallpapervortex.com

By the end of the 4th hour, the labdanum is in full bloom, turning Vetiver Royal Bourbon sweeter and much warmer in feel. The various smoky, tarry, leathered, and turpentine undertones are in slow retreat. Vetiver Royal Bourbon is now primarily a minty vetiver scent cocooned in a warm, golden embrace with milder, increasingly muted smokiness and blackness. There is a slight powdery quality to the fragrance, but it’s really more of a texture than any actual powder. It’s almost as if the labdanum amber is a bit grainy, if that makes any sense.

Source: Source: hqwide.com

Over time, the ambered glow fades on my skin, and Vetiver Royal Bourbon turns into a minty vetiver duet. It’s as though the vetiver has been purified, set free of both the smoky, blacker, leathery elements and of the labdanum’s warmth. What is left is a scent that very dark green in visual hue, and largely limited to pure vetiver. I’m afraid its mintiness is too much for me, especially as it demonstrates a tiny medicinal touch on my skin with lingering traces of mentholated camphor. In its final moments, the perfume is a mere wisp of vetiver greenness. All in all, Vetiver Royal Bourbon consistently lasted over 9 hours on me: 10 hours with 3 small sprays, and just under 9.5 with 2.

I have worn and tested Vetiver Royal Bourbon four times in total. On all of those occasions, I never detect any immortelle. Not at any point on my skin. The perfume never varied in its core essence or in the structure that I’ve outlined here today, but there were two very minor differences. In one test, the booziness of the amber was significantly less noticeable. In another, the earthy, tobacco, and oakmoss undertones were even more muted and subtle.

I have the very vague, wholly unscientific sense that heat was the deciding factor in the last circumstance. More of Vetiver Royal Bourbon’s subtle nuances came out in the heat, while cooler temperatures (and higher air-conditioning levels) squashed some of the elements. And, as with a number of Oriza fragrances, applying a greater quantity of the fragrance seems to amplify some of its base notes.

There is great purity in Vetiver Royal Bourbon’s vetiver focus, as well as a triumphant celebration of its minty and smokier aspects. All of that makes it a little too much for me personally, but that is merely a question of individual tastes and the fact that I don’t love vetiver in such concentrated amounts. Fumidus was too much for me as well, though I respect it just as much. In both cases, it is the mintiness of the vetiver that is my difficulty, not the blackness, tarriness, or smokiness. I think those things are very well handled in Vetiver Royal Bourbon.

In fact, the Oriza perfume would be a great alternative to those who struggled with the much greater quantity of smoky birch tar in Fumidus, as well as its thick, oily density. I can’t see many people wearing Fumidus in summer, but Vetiver Royal Bourbon’s lightness makes it a fresher alternative that you could definitely pull off in the heat.

Alexander Skarsgård by Ralph Mecke for GQ Style German. Source: iloveromancenovels.blog63.fc2.com

As a whole, I think the perfume is unapologetically masculine in nature, and the handful of raves that I have seen for the scent on Oriza’s Facebook page all come from men. One chap stated how much he appreciated the vetiver’s darker facets, the lack of earthiness, and the perfume’s overall refinement. Another asked about the eucalyptus-like note, and I have a vague memory of someone else talking about the smoky leatheriness. I mention these comments largely because there are no other reviews for the fragrance that I can share with you. Vetiver Royal Bourbon is too new to have a Fragrantica entry, and no-one has tried it on Basenotes.

Oriza is a house whose creations sometimes have a very vintage feel, but Vetiver Royal Bourbon is a fragrance that could have been launched today by another niche house. It simply does not feel like a fragrance that was released 100 years ago, not by any stretch of the imagination. In fact, I’ve spent a good deal of time amusing myself with thoughts of people’s reactions back then to the smoky, leathery, Fumidus-like vetiver in a world where Jicky, L’Heure Bleue, Phul-Nana, powdery florals, and scented waters ruled the day. Vetiver Royal Bourbon must have been completely revolutionary for its time, but it fits in perfectly in today’s modern world.

Vetiver Royal Bourbon is very affordable for a niche scent, especially for 100 ml of eau de parfum. The perfume costs $125 or €90, which is less than the €120 price of its other Oriza siblings outside the Soliflore line. It is currently available on Oriza’s website and at a variety of European retailers. (See the Details section below.) For American readers, I’ve been told that Vetiver Royal Bourbon should be available next week (or at the beginning of June) at Luckyscent, a site which is now carrying the full Oriza L. Legrand line, including the lovely soaps and candles.

So, if you love smoky, minty vetiver, do give Vetiver Royal Bourbon a try. I think it’s very well done.

Disclosure: Sample courtesy of Oriza L. Legrand. That did not influence this review, I do not do paid reviews, and my opinions are my own.

DETAILS:

Cost & Availability: Vetiver Royal Bourbon is an eau de parfum that comes in a 100 ml or 3.4 oz bottle, and costs $125 or €90. It is available directly from Oriza’s e-store. A great sample set is also available but it does not include the Soliflore range of fragrances, such as Vetiver Royal Bourbon. In the U.S.: Luckyscent now carries the full Oriza L. Legrand line, and should be receiving Vetiver Royal Bourbon this upcoming week or at the start of June 2014. It will cost $125. Oriza is also carried at New York’s JuJu s’amuse. It has two locations, and I’ve provided the number for one, in case you want to check whether they do phone orders: 100 Thompson Street New York, NY 10012, with Ph: (212) 226.1201; but, also, 1220 Lexington Avenue (at 82nd Street), New York, NY 10018. Other vendors in Europe: Oriza’s perfumes are also sold at Paris’ Marie-Antoinette (which was my favorite perfume shop in Paris), as well as one store in Sweden. In the Netherlands, the Oriza line is carried at ParfuMaria, but VRB is not yet listed. Germany’s First in Fragrance also carries the Oriza Legrand line, but it is the same story there. Both stores should eventually get the fragrance. Oriza L. Legrand is also sold at a few places in Japan. For details on those retailers and the Swedish store, you can check Oriza Points of Sale page.