Amouage Journey (Woman)

Posted on May 7, 2014 by Kafkaesque

Source: bbs.hsw.cn

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

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

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

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

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

Journey Woman. Source; Amouage Facebook page.

The official Amouage Facebook page describes Journey Woman as follows:

Floral, Fruity, Leather

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

Heart: Jasmine Sambac, Mimosa, Honey, Cedarwood

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

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

Source: picsfab.com

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

Jasmine Tea. Source: tea-terra.ru

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

Osmanthus. Source: blog.proxisante.com

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

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

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

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

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

Source: ebay.com

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

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

Source: popularscreensavers.com

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Painting by Moon Beom via lostateminor.com

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

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

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

Source: free wallpapers at antemortemarts.com.

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

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

Photo: my own.

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

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

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

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

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

DETAILS:

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

Oriza L. Legrand Foin Fraîchement Coupé

Posted on May 6, 2014 by Kafkaesque

Source: high-definition-wallpaper.com

Foin Fraîchement Coupé is a limited edition fragrance from the ancient house of Oriza L. Legrand (hereinafter just “Oriza“). It is a very classical, traditional scent that represents not only Oriza’s ancient roots, but also one of the oldest genres of perfumery: the aromatic fougère. In fact, the fragrance was originally released almost 150 years ago, and its full name is Foin Fraîchement Coupé 1866 (hereinafter just “Foin Fraichement“) to reflect the year of its debut. Yet, this is no powdery, dusty scent taken out of a museum; Foin Fraichement has been 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

The new Foin Fraichement is an eau de parfum that was released in 2013. On its website, Oriza describes Foin Fraichement and its notes as follows:

1886
New-Mown-Hay

“When you walk in the evening, breathing the smell of new-mown hay, listening to the cuckoo in the woods, watching the stars that spin, your heart, indeed, your heart is purer, more penetrated with air, light, and the peaceful azure horizon, where the earth touches the sky in a quiet kiss. Oh! like the perfume in the air of a women’s hair! like the skin of their soft hands, as their eyes stare at us and penetrate our soul!” Gustave Flaubert

Top Notes: Angelique, Star Anise & Wild Mint.
Heart Notes: Clover, Sainfoin, New-Mown-Hay & Clary Sage.
Base Notes: Hay , White Musk, cockle & Ivy.

Source: josephsevier.org

Foin Fraichement opens on my skin as a strongly green, aromatic cologne with green mint, green angelique, sweet grass, and slightly pungent, dried herbs. The bouquet is heavily infused with clary sage which manifests the plant’s soapy herbaceousness, as well as its lavender facets. The very cologne-like vibe is further underscored by clean musk and a lemony aroma. I don’t know where the latter comes from, but the two together add a clean freshness to go along with the very crisp, bright, green bouquet.

Star Anise. Source: perierga.gr

Minutes later, the star anise arrives, adding a strong spiciness to the notes. It competes with the lavendery clary sage, and the minty herbal accords for dominance, and somewhat overpowers the more delicate grass tonalities on my skin. The overall effect of the aromatic, spicy, herbal, soapy clean, and slightly lemony notes is a scent that is not only very classic in feel, but rather like a vintage barber-shop fragrance.

Clary sage. Source: dreamstime.com

In fact, there are times when Foin Fraichement’s opening bouquet rather resembles Old Spice on my skin. The latter was released in 1937/1938, while the Oriza scent launched about 90 years before, but there are definite similarities. One reason why is the two fragrances have an overlap in notes: star anise, clary sage, lemon, musk, and soapiness. Old Spice is soapier (thanks to the inclusion of aldehydes), has other pungent spices like nutmeg and pimento, and far fewer green notes, but the two fragrances have a definite kinship and similar vibe. The difference for me is that Foin Fraichement feels much more refined, deep, and expensive.

“Golden Hay Bales in Green Fields’ by Elena Elisseeva on Fine Art America.

More importantly, though, the similarities don’t last very long. 20 minutes in, small touches of sweetness and hay rise up from the base, softening some of Foin Fraichement’s aromatic crispness. The perfume is now a very spicy, lightly sweetened blend of star anise, citric freshness, and herbal greenness, all lightly dusted with fresh hay. At the 40-minute mark, Foin Fraichement changes further as its base turns creamy, almost as if some soft woods were included. The clary sage’s soapiness recedes a little, as well.

For the first two hours, many of these changes are one of degree. During that time, Foin Fraichement is a very simple fragrance whose core essence remains unchanged. There are tiny fluctuations in the nature or feel of some of the secondary elements, but, by and large, Foin Fraichement is a very classical aromatic green fragrance in the fougère category with spicy, herbal, green, clean, and hay notes. (If you’re interested, you can read more about the aromatic green subcategory for fougères on Fragrantica.)

Source: hqwallpapers4free.com

Foin Fraichement’s opening bouquet is quite airy and light, but also strong. 2 small sprays created quite a concentrated fragrance that initially hovered 3 inches in projection. Both the sillage and the perfume’s strength slowly soften, however, especially once the creamy base puts an end to the Foin Fraichement’s soapiness. It also helps to diffuse the musk and some of the fragrance’s herbal greenness. At the end of the 2nd hour, Foin Fraichement hovers maybe half an inch above my skin.

The biggest and most noticeable change on my skin is that creaminess to which I keep referring. At times, it feels almost vanillic at times; on other occasions, it is like coumarin and creamy hay. It is thoroughly intertwined with Foin Fraichement’s green side which increasingly takes on vetiver-like tonalities in its grassiness. The mint has faded away, but a faintly powdery touch takes its place. The whole thing is infused with star anise’s spicy sharpness, as well as a delicate sweetness. At the start of the third hour, Foin Fraichement’s main bouquet is of star anise spiciness with green vetiver-like notes, a lingering touch of aromatic herbaceouness, and clean, fresh musk, all atop a creamy coumarin and hay base. It no longer bears any resemblance to Old Spice.

Photo: my own.

Foin Fraichement’s drydown stage begins at the start of the 4th hour, and consists primarily of beautiful creaminess with star anise spiciness. There is a flicker of greenness that feels like vetiver, but only light touches of aromatic clary sage and musk remain. Taking their place is what I’d swear was a hefty amount of coumarin. As Fragrantica explains, coumarin consists of:

crystals found in tonka beans and other plants, smelling of almonds, vanilla and freshly-mown hay; found in both fragrances and flavorings, extremely versatile and popular, basis of the fougere family of scents.

Tonka beans. Source: Fragrance-creation.com

Here, the aroma resembles tonka vanilla, with only infrequent, light undertones of sweet hay. The whole spicy, creamy bouquet is lightly dusted by a tiny amount of powder, but it is generally the sweetened variety, thereby underscoring the coumarin-tonka angle even further.

Foin Fraichement turns into a skin scent on me at the 3.5 hour mark, but the perfume lingers on for a while. In its final moments, Foin Fraichement is a blur of creaminess with a touch of something dry and spicy. All in all, it lasted 7.25 hours on me with 2 sprays.

Foin Fraichement label and logo. Source: Oriza L. Legrand website.

Foin Fraichement isn’t a complicated or edgy scent, but then, it’s not meant to be. Fragrances in 1866 weren’t the twisting, morphing creatures that they are today, so one can’t blame Foin Fraichement for its simplicity. Plus, the aromatic fougère category is perhaps the most traditional category of perfumery around. Foin Fraichement comes with those limitations, but it feels like a very refined take on the crisp, green, herbal aromatic genre. It’s also somewhat modern and not wholly vintage in character, as it lacks heavy soapiness or powderiness. In other words, if Foin Fraichement has a retro call-back to the past, it is due primarily to its very traditional genre. Everyone from Guerlain to Profumum Roma makes aromatic fougères, so Foin Fraichement is not old-fashioned so much as classical in nature.

For my personal tastes and style, the fragrance is a little too cologne-like at its start (and you know my personal issues with soapy cleanness), but I found the drydown to be lovely. The mix of star anise and creaminess was wonderful, and so smooth, too. My only real quibble with the fragrance is a small one regarding its moderate longevity, but that may be a question of personal skin chemistry. Foin Fraichement certainly lasted longer on my skin than some of the other scents from the Oriza line.

As a whole, I think Foin Fraichement is a very easy, approachable, good quality, and versatile fragrance. However, it skews into the masculine territory at its start, and I don’t know if some women will find it truly unisex in nature. I suspect it will depend largely on how they feel about herbaceous or aromatic notes like mint, clary sage, and/or lavender, especially all together and in conjunction with star anise.

Foin Fraichement is available on Oriza’s website, and costs €90 for a 100 ml bottle, which is less than the €120 for most of its other siblings. It is also sold at a variety of European retailers, and at a New York boutique called Juju Amuse (see the details section below). Even better, Luckyscent in L.A. just start carrying the full Oriza L. Legrand line (including the lovely soaps and candles) today. It sells Foin Fraichement for $125.

All in all, if you’re looking for a very fresh, spicy aromatic fougère with a refined classicism, you should give Foin Fraichement Coupé a sniff.

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: Foin Fraichement is an eau de parfum that comes in a 100 ml or 3.4 oz bottle, and costs $125 or €90. Foin Fraichement is available directly from Oriza’s e-store. A great sample set is also available from the e-Store (scroll down midway to the page and it’s on the right.) The set includes 7 fragrances in the range, though not Foin Fraîchement Coupé, with each scent coming in 2 ml spray vials. The whole thing costs a low €9. Separate shipping is listed as €9, but a friend said he was charged only €7. Oriza ships globally, as I’ve had readers order the sample set from all over. In the U.S.: Luckyscent now carries the full Oriza L. Legrand line, including Foin Fraichement which it sells for $125 for a 100 ml bottle. 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. Germany’s First in Fragrance also carries the Oriza Legrand line, including Foin Fraichement. 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.

New Releases: Amouage Journey (Man and Woman)

Posted on May 5, 2014 by Kafkaesque

Amouage has just released information on its new annual duo, which will be called Journey and which will come in the usual Men and Women‘s pairing. I have received samples of both, thanks to the kindness of Amouage’s Creative Director, Christopher Chong, so you can expect reviews as soon as I’ve tested the fragrances properly.

[UPDATE 5/8/14 — my reviews for both fragrances are now posted: Journey Man and Journey Woman.]

Journey Duo. Source: Amouage Facebook.

In the meantime, here is the information released by Amouage on its Facebook page this morning concerning each fragrance and its notes:

JOURNEY WOMAN:

Floral, Fruity, Leather

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

Heart: Jasmine Sambac, Mimosa, Honey, Cedarwood

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

JOURNEY MAN:

Woody Spicy

Top: Sichuan Pepper, Bergamot, Cardamom, Neroli Bigarade

Heart: Juniper Berries, Incense, Pure Geraniol, Tobacco Leaves

Base: Tonka Beans, Cypriol, Leather, Ambrox

On Twitter, Mr. Chong posted a photo of a magazine article in which he talked very briefly about the new releases.

Very excited to be in the current @glassmagazine @AmouagePerfumes Thanks guys!!! pic.twitter.com/Nq63tshf2m

— Me (@cchonguk) January 29, 2014

If you look very closely at the text at the very bottom, he says:

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

I think that description applies to Journey Woman, as the men’s version doesn’t contain osmanthus.

As a side note, and if you’ll forgive the tangent, I found Mr. Chong’s interview with Glass magazine to be extremely interesting with regard to a very different matter. If you look closely, you’ll see that he talks about changes in perfume culture in Hong Kong and how the typical stereotype image of Asians disliking strong perfumery is untrue in his (recent) experience. I tried to find the full article online to share with you, but failed. So, if you’ll forgive the brief digression away from the new Journey perfumes, this is the text of one portion of his interview, as best as I can make it out from the photo:

It’s a myth that women in Asia want delicate scents. When I was over there, I presented them with some light, citrus options. They said, “that’s nice.” Then I presented them with the stronger ones, and they were transfixed, as if they had been transported to a different world. Chinese people are realistic — if they’re going to spend a lot of money on a perfume, they want something that is going to last. And ours do last.

Returning to the subject of Journey, according to Mr. Chong, the perfumers who worked under his direction were Alberto Morillas and Pierre Negrin. I didn’t ask if both gentlemen worked on each fragrance, because, frankly, I’ve really pestered Mr. Chong enough with questions, he’s been incredibly patient with me, and I hate feeling like a nuisance.

He did say, however, that Journey will be released in most countries in June. If I learn any additional details, I will update this post.

Profumum Antico Caruso

Posted on April 26, 2014 by Kafkaesque

Profumum Roma wants you to take a trip in time with its Antico Caruso, starting in a simpler, more elegant era when barber shops were filled with creamy soaps, herbal tonics, and the aromas of rich lemon oil, and men were pampered the old-fashioned way. Yet, that journey to the past quickly changes because classic masculinity is not at the core of Antico Caruso. The heart of the perfume brings you to the modern era with a more unisex scent that is all about smooth, almond creaminess.

Source: Profumum Roma website.

Antico Caruso was released in 2001, and is an eau de parfum with pure parfum concentration. Like its sugary, feminine sister, Confetto, it is an almond fragrance at its core, but Antico Caruso does not start out that way. Far from it. In fact, for much of the first hour, I was wondering if the almond was ever going to show up. It certainly seemed nothing like Profumum’s description of the scent on its website with its talk of “wheat fields” and floral orange blossoms. In my opinion, Profumum’s description of the scent is so misleading, I’m going to skip quoting it entirely.

I think the best summation of Antico Caruso — at least for its opening phase — comes from Luckyscent which writes:

Inspired by the scent and atmosphere of a classic, old fashioned barbershop: white tiled floors and leather chairs; rich, creamy soaps and brisk herbal tonics; the buzz of good-natured conversation. A vibrant citrus note mingles with the subtle sweetness of almond on a warm base of wood. The result is clean, but in a comforting and luxurious way— not at all astringent or antiseptic. Antico Caruso brings to mind the good manners and relaxed pace of an earlier time, but has an ease and minimalism that keeps it wearable and modern.

Schorem, Bertus & Leen barbershop, Rotterdam, NL. Source: gentlemensavenue.com

There doesn’t seem to be any consensus on the notes in Antico Caruso, and I’ve found that Profumum rarely gives a thorough list, settling instead for a nutshell summation. As noted earlier, the company talks about wheat fields, but oddly enough, it doesn’t say one word about lemons — and Antico Caruso definitely contains plenty of that!

Thus far, the most detailed assessment seems to come from Fragrantica which mentions:

almond, lemon, orange blossom, sandalwood and amber.

Personally, I smell slightly different notes:

lemon, almond, lavender, sandalwood, vanilla, and possibly clary sage.

Source: footage.shutterstock.com

Antico Caruso opens on my skin very close to what is described by Luckyscent. There is a potent wave of clean, very crisp, very bright yellow citrus, infused with a clean musk, and followed by a pungent herbal aroma. The whole thing is cocooned in a dry woodiness, then a good, frothing spray of lemony shaving cream and some expensive soap bubbles are poured on top.

photo: 123rf.com

The herbal aspect fascinates me. There is a brief touch of green anise which carries with it the faintest tinge of licorice, along with what I would swear is clary sage and lavender. The latter is subtle at first, so I thought I was imagining it, but, no, exactly 5 minutes in, I would bet one of my favorite bottles of perfume that there is either dried lavender, clary sage, or both in Antico Caruso. Clary sage has a herbal aroma that can be similar to lavender, and commonly has a rich soapiness, along with a subtle touch of leatheriness underneath. All of that appears in Antico Caruso, along with the more obvious dried lavender. As for the wheat referred to by Profumum in their description? Nary a whiff. And no almonds on my skin, either, not for another 45 minutes.

Source: spasation.com

What there is instead is an intensely bright, fresh, crisp lemony aroma infused with soapiness, clean musk, and a slightly pungent, aromatic herbal bouquet in a blend that replicates an old-fashioned cologne. You can almost feel yourself transported to a 1940s or 1950s Italian barbershop, envision the shaving cream being whisked a man’s face, and see the bright sunshine flooding in as the barber finishes off with a bracing blend of lemon and lavender oil on his customer’s skin. Antico Caruso is definitely impressive in how smoothly and elegantly they’ve recreated that world in perfume form.

My admiration aside, it’s initially a little too herbal and clean for me personally, but relief is in sight. Exactly 20 minutes into Antico Caruso’s development, the perfume starts to shift. The heavily soapy undertone softens dramatically to something that is much better balanced. A touch of lovely, creamy vanilla slowly stirs in the base. Vanilla is not listed on Profumum’s typically abbreviated list of notes, but I would swear that is what I am smelling. At the same time, Antico Caruso’s streak of woodiness that was initially so muted now blooms, taking on a wonderful creamy smoothness. It doesn’t smell like sandalwood to me, let alone actual Mysore sandalwood, but it doesn’t smell cheap or synthetic, either. It’s an abstract wooded note, but it’s lovely.

The almond appears after 45 minutes, and Antico Caruso continues to get better. The almond isn’t bitter, raw, or candied, but very fresh and light. It cuts through some of the herbal pungency, taming it, while also softening the lemon and turning it less crisp. The final traces of shaving cream soapiness fade away, leaving a citrus, almond, herbal bouquet that is lightly flecked with vanilla and creamy woods. It all feels very smooth, elegant, clean, and bright. The white musk in the base is, as usual, the one thing I don’t like, but that is just as personal dislike for the note.

Photo: my own.

Antico Caruso still manifests masculine and retro vibes, thanks to its very aromatic, citrus top notes, but they are growing weaker with every passing quarter-hour. Exactly 75 minutes in, the almonds in Antico Caruso bloom and change everything for me. They’re absolutely beautiful. Creamy, whipped with vanilla to a silky mousse, then lightly dusted with a touch of sugar, they are like a creamy dessert. Again, vanilla is not listed in Antico Caruso’s notes, but what is wafting from my skin certainly seems to contain the note. It’s lovely in its airy, rich smoothness. Yet, the herbal and citrus cologne aspect persists enough to ensure that Antico Caruso is never cloying goo. There is sweetness, most definitely, but there is also a very brisk, herbal, aromatic freshness that ensures Antico Caruso never ventures into saccharine territory.

Photo: Kate Donahue on foodbabbles.com

Antico Caruso’s primary bouquet now is of silky almonds with vanilla mousse, flecked by bright, crisp lemons and dried herbs, all atop a smooth, creamy woody base. At the 2.25 hour mark, the sillage drops to an inch above the skin, the herbal accord retreats to the sidelines, and the almond-vanilla-mousse dances in the spotlight with the creamy woods. The lavender and lemon are still there, as is the white musk, but none of them are the stars of show in the same way that they were at the start.

Source: Normann Copenhagen. (Link to blog site with recipe for mousse embedded within photo.)

Antico Caruso remains largely unchanged for the next few hours, losing more and more of its herbal cleanness and citric freshness. As the hours pass, and the drydown begins, Antico Caruso’s primary bouquet is of creamy almonds amidst even further creaminess, both of the vanilla and wooded varieties. It’s absolutely lovely, and compulsively sniffable. In its final moments, Antico Caruso dies away in a blur of lightly sweetened creaminess flecked by almonds and that persistent, clean, white musk.

All in all, Antico Caruso lasted just under 12.5 hours on my perfume-consuming skin. That figure is a bit less than what I usually get from some Profumum scents, but I know Antico Caruso’s longevity could easily be increased by applying more of the scent. On a normal person, many Profumum scents last well over 15 hours, with some reporting 24 hours or more. In terms of sillage, Antico Caruso become a skin scent on me around the middle of the 6th hour, but was still easy to detect up close for some time after that.

Jean Paul Gaultier’s Le Male. Source: Fragrantica.

Just as with Confetto, the reactions to Antico Caruso can be boiled down to a few, strikingly similar assessments. On Luckyscent, Fragrantica, or MakeupAlley, the comments generally boil to one or more of the following refrains:

Antico Caruso is exactly like Jean-Paul Gaultier‘s Le Male;

Antico Caruso is extremely similar to Le Male, but without the latter’s cloying, “screeching,” and overpoweringly synthetic vanilla;

Antico Caruso has a barber shop smell with herbal notes and shaving foam;

Antico Caruso smells like the most luxurious almond soap with a clean, smooth, creaminess and lovely sandalwood;

“The smell for the perfect, classy gentlemen…” (Also, “Soft, classy attractive from the first sniff.That’s how a man should smell in my opinion. It’s oh so pure and sexy at the same time. Freshness, clean clothes with good old sandalwood soap dried in the sunny countryside.”)

Antico Caruso is too masculine for women. (E.g., “I gave it 3 for me, but I also would give it 5 for a man” ; or, “May be more appropriate for my boyfriend.”)

The citrus and barbershop tonalities are much more noticeable if you spray from a bottle, than if you dab, unless you dab on a lot.

Source: mlle-mlle.blogspot.com

I was happy to see that one Fragrantica reviewer detected a lavender aroma just as I did. “Houdini4” also provides comparisons to fragrances other than just Le Male, so his assessment may be useful for some of you:

Instantly I thought this smelled like a lavender, almond and vanilla combination which is very pleasing. How about this Antico Caruso is an elegant blend of the best bits of from three well known fragrances. A ménage a trois of sorts between Le Male, Givenchy Pi and Amouage Reflection.[…] It’s what Le Male should smell like but goes awful on my skin and it has the deep almond accord of givenchy Pi without the sour edge. Finally it has the class and sophistication of Reflection without the relative complexity. This is a nice fragrance that has phenomenal lasting power it really is impressive. [Emphasis to names added by me.]

MOR vanilla almond soap. Photo: Kim at averysweetblog.com. (Website link embedded within photo.)

On Luckyscent, the vast majority of the reviews are positive, but they also come from men. My two favorite ones are filled with evocative historical images for what Antico Caruso makes the reviewers feel. What is interesting is that one of them detected the almond immediately, far more than anything herbal, and that Antico Caruso’s main characteristic for him seemed to be luxury almond soap that conjured up something serene and comforting, like “fresh, wholesome days outdoors and the pure simplicity of monestary, abbey or temple settings”:

Oh ! yeah. This is somewhat of a medicine chest upon first whiff/application but then it really gets complex, rich , masculine and has an elusive comforting nature. It has a great life span- at least 5 to 10 hours, it takes about an hour just to sit with you and develop – very good sign IMO. It’s got a good description , shaving cream mixed with a very oppulent antique wardrobe filled with hair creme, woody rich soaps, leather shoes of the most bespoke calfskin , a linen suit you wore to a temple in India where the finest sandalwood burned – maybe even a tiny bit of extremely rare aged English pipe tabacco. It’s just too complex to type- but delivers alot of invoked feelings and vaugue memories- the aroma captures places and times for me, not just a pleasure of smell alone. Never been able to say that for any offering,except for CdG Incense/Avignon before this.

Source: theesotericcuriosa.blogspot.com

“Antico Caruso” smells like the purest, creamiest luxury soap you’ve ever experienced—the kind that came in cakes and wrapped in paper, scattered throughout cruise liners (like creamy-tart “Vinolia”–only sweeter) and seaside hotels in the early part of last century. There is even a similar theme between Caswell-Massey’s famous “Almond Shave Soap” and “Antico Caruso”, but antico is less salty and veers away from the syrupy cherry tone of almond and into a creamier realm of polished wood and hard-soap lather. This is a serenely comforting scent: The almond note gives it a very subtle gourmandesque spirit; however, the opening citrus zing and powdery sandlewood finish make it far to clean to pass as a food substitute. “Antico Caruso” is also, despite masculine references to barbershops and cologne, quite unisex in nature and I imagine many women would find it’s unusual non-floral creaminess appealing. It’s the smell of “clean” before “clean” meant “disinfectant/detergent”. It makes me think of fresh, wholesome days outdoors and the pure simplicity of monestary, abbey or temple settings. If you always hoped for a sweeter, creamier version of “CKOne“, “L’Huere Bleu” or you’re just looking for an interesting scent to surround but not precede you, I’d suggest “Antico Caruso”. [Emphasis to names added by me.]

Lemon almond soap. Source: blog.wholesalesuppliesplus.com

As you may have noted, most of the Antico Caruso discussion is from men. My personal feelings on the gender issue is that Antico Caruso definitely opens like a man’s cologne with its herbal-citrus aroma and shaving cream undertones. I think women who are used to mainstream fragrances, and/or who prefer clearly, distinctly feminine perfumes will struggle with Antico Caruso. I’m not sure many will have the patience to wait 75 minutes to get past the opening in order to experience the unisex almond-vanilla heart.

On the other hand, I think that all the references to “barbershop” vibes may predispose some women to think that the fragrance is not for them. After all, a lot of women wear perfumes with lavender, citrus and clean soap aromas, so why should Antico Caruso’s opening be too much? How you frame the discussion and categorize the notes may impact your reaction. If you’re the sort who doesn’t find dried lavender to be medicinal or masculine in nature, then you shouldn’t have a problem with the rest of the perfume.

Almond Powder. Photo: Emma Christensen. Source: thekitchn.com

To be clear, though, quite a few women find Antico Caruso to be “lovely and unisex,” relaxing, “cuddly” or “precious.” On MakeupAlley, some female reviewers love the scent, perhaps because the drydown is so very different than the citrus, soapy opening:

With notes of citrus, almond and sandalwood, the Luckyscent website describes it being reminiscent of rich, creamy soaps and brisk herbal tonics. At first, I thought this scent didn’t work on me…. It seemed kind of soapy perfumey and could work on a man better than a woman…but the drydown is a soft almond baby powder scent….not a sneeze inducing powdery scent but like baby powder and sweet dry almond…and it has no masculine edge left. Also, the staying power on this is tremendous which is rare for a cuddly scent (which this certainly is once you get to the bottom notes).

how relaxed and istantly happy i felt after putting on my skin after bath the other day.I was so distressed and tired and it worked like some magical potion. It smells a bit of cherry (well that comes from almond) and it’s sweet tarty with a subtle vanilla note and a true sandalwood drydown.Precious!

I wasn’t getting the barbershop notes at all, but putting on a ton, I can get that sense. There’s a old fashioned perfume feeling to this in quantity, but overall it dries to a gentle, slightly powdery vanilla musk that’s compulsively sniffable. The wood, old style cologne and herbal tonic are there in suggestion, but it’s all muted into a mood rather than distinct pictures. Lovely and unisex, warm and comforting. Expensive though. Makes me sad because I would love to own this but it’s just too expensive.

It’s true, Profumum scents are not cheap at $240 a bottle. On the one hand, they are 100 ml of pure concentrated parfum, and a little goes a long (long!) way. On the other, Antico Caruso is not particularly original. Just as with Confetto, it has a very close counterpart in the designer or mainstream aisle for much, much less. And they’re both much less original or distinctive than some of their non-gourmand siblings in the Profumum line — like the peaty Laphroaig Scotch and smoky vetiver Fumidus, or the kelp and salty ocean Acqua di Sale.

The thing about Profumum, however, is that they generally use very high-quality ingredients and few synthetics. So, yes, Antico Caruso may be like Le Male, but almost everyone agrees that it is not even close to being as synthetic or as shrilly over-bearing as the Gaultier creation. Whether it feels different or luxurious enough to warrant the price is going to be a personal determination. I personally happen to think Antico Caruso is very elegant, and I struggle to see how Profumum’s quality could possibly be compared or equated to Le Male.

Almond cream. Photo: Melissa Breyer at care2care.com

For me, Antico Caruso is one of the nicest Profumum scents that I’ve tried in a while, and I have to admit that I far preferred it to its almond sister, Confetto. Though I enjoyed both almond scents, Antico Caruso comes out ahead for a few reasons. Confetto was a little too sweet for my personal tastes. Antico Caruso felt not only more complex, relatively speaking, but I also found the drydown to be beautiful and compulsively sniffable. Yes, the opening was a little too herbal for me and I don’t particularly like soapiness, but neither aspect lasted all that long on my skin. The main thing, though, is that almond-vanilla mousse over a base of creamy woods will always beat out sugared almond with cotton candy for me. The vanilla is simply better, richer, deeper, smoother and more high-quality in Antico Caruso.

Do I like Antico Caruso enough to actually buy a full 100ml bottle? That part I’m not so sure about. I suspect some of you will find yourself engaged in a similar debate if you try either Confetto or Antico Caruso. But if you love sweet almond fragrances, you should really give one of them a test sniff.

DETAILS:

Cost & Availability: Antico Caruso is an Eau de Parfums with Extrait concentration that only comes in a large 3.4 oz/100 ml bottle. It costs $240 or €179. Profumum doesn’t have an e-shop from which you can buy their fragrances directly. Profumum now seems to have released 20 ml “stylos” of 10 of its fragrances, including Antico Caruso, but those 20 ml each cost €60. The stylos are also limited to Europe thus far, in such department stores as Paris’ Printemps boutique. In the U.S.: you can find Antico Caruso at Luckyscent and OsswaldNY. Both sites sell samples at different prices. As a side note, Profumum says that the perfume is accompanied by body products like “body milk” or “Shower bath.” Outside the U.S.: In the U.K., Profumum is sold at Roja Dove’s Haute Parfumerie in Harrods. Elsewhere, you can generally find the Profumum line at Paris’ Printemps store, Premiere Avenue in France (which ships world-wide), France’s Soleil d’Or, the Netherlands’ Celeste, Hungary’s Neroli, zurich’s Osswald, and Russia’s Lenoma boutiques. Taizo in Cannes also carries Profumum and says they ship worldwide, but I don’t see an e-store. Profumum’s website says that their fragrances are carried in a large number of small stores from Copenhagen to Poland, other parts of France, the rest of Europe, and, of course, Italy. You can use the Profumum Store Locator located on the left of the page linked to above. Samples: Surrender to Chance does not have Antico Caruso. However, you can order vials of both scents from Luckyscent or Osswald. The latter has a sample program for U.S. customers along with free shipping, though there is a 3-item minimum.