Oriza L. Legrand Muguet Fleuri: Spring’s Fairy Forest

Posted on April 16, 2014 by Kafkaesque

Source: Zedge.com

Spring has arrived, bringing with it Muguet Fleuri in an olfactory symbol of rebirth and freshness that seems like Nature at its best. Delicate lilies of the valley sway in the wind like floral bells, releasing crystal-clear chimes of floral sweetness. Its dewy liquidity parallels April showers that wash the dirt and grime away, leaving a clean, fresh greenness imbued with alpine white in the soft sunlight. Yet, the vista of green and white is also thoroughly infused with imperial purple, as wild violets dance the Rites of Spring alongside the muguet. It’s the enchanted fairy world of Muguet Fleuri, the latest fragrance from the ancient house of Oriza L. Legrand.

Oriza L. Legrand (hereinafter just “Oriza”) is a house for which I have enormous affection and admiration. You can read all about its ancient history (and see the adorable sweetness of the Paris boutique) in a post I did last year on the subject, but to summarize in a nutshell, Oriza goes back to 1720 and the time of Louis XV. It made perfumes for the Tsar of Russia, and numerous European royal families, as well as winning prestigious prizes in World Fairs of the late 1800s and early 1900s. The perfume house died in the 1930s, but it has been brought back to life by its current owners, Franck Belaiche and Hugo Lambert. I’ve met them both, and they are true gentlemen — in every sense of that word.

Photo: Roberto Greco for Oriza L. Legrand.

For them, Oriza L. Legrand is a labour of love. They want to return the brand to its old glory, while staying true to its heritage and history by offering its original fragrances, only with lightly tweaks to appeal to modern tastes. They work extremely hard, running all aspects of the business almost like an artisanal venture, right down to bottling the perfumes themselves (just as Andy Tauer does for his house). Everything they have is thrown into Oriza, and dedicated to making the house a success in the modern era. As a side note, some sites have said that Elisabeth de Feydeau is the nose responsible for the new Oriza scents, but that is incorrect. Madame de Feydeau assisted in the initial research for the original, historical formulas, but it is Hugo Lambert who has created the re-invented Oriza fragrances and he deserves the full credit.

Muguet Fleuri. Source: Oriza L. Legrand website.

Muguet Fleuri is their latest release, but I have the impression that the original Muguet Fleuri debuted in 1925. This is obviously a tweaked interpretation suited for modern times. Muguet Fleuri is an eau de parfum centered around lily of the valley which the French call “muguet.” (That is how I am used to calling it, too, so I shall stick with the French name.)

Muguet is a big deal in France in spring time. The first of May is called May Day (La Fête du Muguet, La Fête du Travail) or Labor Day, and is a public holiday to celebrate workers’ rights. But it is also the day on which people give bunches of muguet to their loved ones. When I was growing up in France, especially on the occasions when I lived in Paris, every street corner had a little stand selling bunches of the flowers, often run by a little, wizened, old lady who had come from the country. It is a rite of Spring, and Oriza has marked that with an olfactory version that concentrates the feeling of muguet in a very classical fragrance.

Source: Oriza L. Legrand.

Oriza describes Muguet Fleuri and its notes as follows:

1925
Top Notes: Green Leaves, Wild Grass, Wild Muguet.
Heart Notes: Galbanum, Angelica, Violet Leaves & Muguet des Bois.
Base Notes: Lily of the Valley Bell Fresh, Oakmoss & Lys des Prés … Comme Il Faut.

In applying Muguet Fleuri, I was struck first by impressions and sensations, rather than actual notes. It was a powerful cloud that was peppery, very spicy, fresh, dewy, lightly grassy, a touch herbal, and infinitely green. At a lower dosage, Muguet Fleuri was lightly soapy and clean as well, but the overwhelming impression is of spicy greenness. Dewy flowers and green leaves, concentrated in the epitome of Spring. Water lies everywhere, but it is as much a floral nectar as it is April showers.

Photo: encreviolette.unblog.fr

For all that muguet is associated in my mind with Paris, Muguet Fleuri takes me back to England. It is like the smell of a spring morning in the British countryside after the spring rains have wiped everything clean. The wetness is fresh, sweetened, and incredibly crisp, but it’s also not as dainty as it sounds. The peppered spiciness is really remarkable, thanks to the violet leaves that feel positively crunchy and stiff, and they transform the delicate, fragile, little white bells into something with a solid backbone.

Wild wood violets. Photo: visoflora.com

The violet flowers themselves arrive shortly thereafter, and they’re beautiful. This is a violet note unlike anything that I’ve encountered in other scents. The degree of cool, radiant clarity is remarkable, and the incredibly concentrated nature of the purple flowers makes them stand head and shoulders above the faded, limp, flaccid violet in Serge Lutens‘ (reformulated) Bois de Violette, Tom Ford‘s Black Violet, and his Violet Blonde. It reminds me of the bunches of pansies (a close relation to violets) that my mother used to buy when we lived in London — only shot up with steroids. On my skin, Muguet Fleuri’s opening phase is almost as much about the violets — in both flower and crunchy leaf form — as it is about the lily of the valley, sometimes more so at the beginning.

Photo: my own.

As the minutes pass, Muguet Fleuri loses some of its peppered intensity and turns more floral. The muguet grows sweeter, and the violet’s floralacy becomes stronger than the crunchy, slightly prickly aroma of its leaves. There is a sense of greenness all around, but the momentary burst of grassiness in Muguet Fleuri’s debut has faded away. The visuals are all alpine white with imperial purple in a sea of green, and, yet, what it translates to emotionally for me is sunlight. Clear, bright sunlight.

Source: abstract.desktopnexus.com

Sometimes, it feels soft; often, it radiates a crystal-sharp whiteness, but primarily it feels comforting and like rebirth. Washing away the grime of Winter, darkness, reality, heartbreak, stress, or mundane trivialities in a flood of cool wetness that is somehow as soothing as being immersed in a liquid cocoon. I can talk to you about the notes, but, for me, Muguet Fleuri’s gorgeous opening bouquet is much more about a feeling, a mood, and symbolism.

Source: it.forwallpaper.com

And part of that symbolism is about the passage of Time and Nature away from the autumnal forest so well represented by Oriza‘s Chypre Mousse. For me, Muguet Fleuri is Chypre Mousse’s olfactory counterpart, and they have a lot in common. They are both extremely evocative fragrances that take you to the heart of an enchanted forest, and create the sense of being in Nature after the rains, surrounded by an ethereal greenness. In Chypre Mousse, it was autumnal with darkened mosses, wet leaves, humus, mushrooms, and a rivulet of leathery resins.

With Muguet Fleuri, Oriza takes you to that same forest in Spring. The liquid sweetness of May’s white muguet bells banishes away the remnants of Fall. Instead of dead leaves rendered dark, they are green, bright, and crunchy. Instead of mushrooms growing out of the wet earth or on fallen tree limbs, there are violets peeping out from under the youthful, bright foliage. The bridge between the two seasons and the two fragrances is that same plush, vibrant oakmoss, but, here, it’s significantly more subdued, fresh, and almost sweetened.

Source: raymichemin.canalblog.com

The more specific differences between the two scents grow stronger as time passes. 10 minutes in, Muguet Fleuri loses even more of its pepper and spice, and takes on the faintest undertone of something clean instead. At a higher dosage, it’s not really soapy, per se, though it does feel quite fresh. Rather, it’s more like a green sharpness. Galbanum stirs at the edges, though it’s thankfully not the so-green-it’s-black galbanum that is such a part of Robert Piguet‘s Bandit.

Source: Colourbox.com

Still, there is a definite sharpness to Muguet Fleuri that Chypre Mousse lacked on my skin. In some ways, it almost feels textural: the coolness borders on iciness at times, like a metallic blade, as if the dewy liquidity has been turned to steel through one of the notes. There is an edge to Muguet Fleuri at a higher dosage, but it was much less apparent when I applied less of the perfume. At the lower dosage, there is still a lot of liquidness to Muguet Fleuri’s opening, but it is joined by freshness that has a soapy cleanness, as if a really expensive French or Victorian floral soap were dancing about the edges.

Source: abstract.desktopnexus.com

In both cases, regardless of quantity, Muguet Fleuri’s greenness feels extremely crisp. The perfume may be a more purely and predominantly floral counterpart to Chypre Mousse, but it shares its predecessor’s tendency towards a certain mintiness. Yet, on my skin, Muguet Fleuri never feels herbal in the way that Chypre Mousse sometimes may. There is merely a sense of rain-drenched Nature, rather than a walk through a herb garden dominated by mint and its relatives.

Another similarity between the two fragrances is their forcefulness, at least initially in the case of Muguet Fleuri. Chypre Mousse is the strongest and most powerful fragrance in the Oriza line, by a landslide, in terms of its massive sillage and its longevity. Muguet Fleuri really surprised me by having initially excellent sillage as well, though it later became softer. The perfume also shares Chypre Mousse’s excellent longevity. Three small sprays of Muguet Fleuri from my atomizer gave me an opening cloud of about 5 inches, though it dropped down to 4 after 30 minutes, then to 3 after another hour had passed. It is an extremely airy bouquet, but Muguet Fleuri is incredibly potent, especially up close. I suspect that the fragrance is like the rest of the Oriza eau de parfums in having 18% concentration. Muguet Fleuri only became a skin scent on me 5.25 hours into its development, but it lasted over 13.75 hours. I was quite taken aback, since floral soliflores rarely have a chance on my skin, particularly if they’re fresh and green in nature.

Muguet with wild violets. Photo: Brigitte Quelin. Source: periblog.fr

As a soliflore, the core essence of Muguet Fleuri never dramatically shifts, morphs, and twists. It is always some sort of blend of lily of the valley, trailed by violets and multi-faceted greenness, with sharpness, and fluctuating levels of both cool, dewy liquidity and floral powder. That core essence remains largely unchanged for hours.

All that happens is that different elements wax and wane in terms of their prominence. The initial spiciness fades away, but the crunchy, very peppery violet leaves do a sort of ghostly dance, retreating, seemingly almost vanishing, before suddenly reappearing again in the background. The galbanum departs after 30 minutes, and the initial flicker of soapiness solidifies into something much more prominent at the 40-minute mark. Around the same time, the first vestige of floral power arrives, though it feels more like a sort of sandiness than actual powder. It grows stronger over time, as does the expensive lily of the valley soapiness.

At the end of the third hour, Muguet Fleuri hovers half an inch above the skin in a potent blend of slightly sharp, lightly powdered muguet with only lingering traces of dewy, nectared sweetness. The crunchy, peppered leaves occasionally pop up in the distance, but the violet flower itself has largely faded away. The light veil of floral powder adds an old-fashioned touch, but it’s not powerful enough to turn Muguet Fleuri into something hardcore vintage and dated in feel. Rather, on my skin, it’s initially just a suggestion of something retro amidst the floral greenness.

Muguet Fleuri continues to soften with the passing hours. It lies right on the skin about 4.25 hours into its development, and turns into a skin scent an hour later. It also feels drier and more powdered, as the beautiful wave of floral liquidity recedes to the sidelines. By the start of the 6th hour, little droplets of dewiness lurk just behind the top notes, but they are increasingly tiny dots. Muguet Fleuri feels less green, though an occasional, subtle, minty freshness still pops up once in a while.

Source: underthemagnifier.wordpress.com

What surprised me was the subtle, abstract woodiness that appears around this time. The muguet feels flecked with a woody undertone that almost verges on cedar. Something about the overall scent reminds me of something Serge Lutens would do in one of his floral-woody combinations, only without the sweet syrupness that marked Bois de Violette, and with a more old-fashioned, clean, powdered touch. Muguet Fleuri’s drydown on my skin really feels like a bouquet of lily of the valley, cedar, violet leaves, and violets, even though the latter is now a mere impression more than a distinctive, powerful, individual note. The whole thing is dusted with floral powder that feels sandier than ever, and a light touch of very expensive floral soap.

Lily of the Valley, or Muguet.

Muguet Fleuri remains that way largely until its very end. In its final moments, it is a mere blur of something vaguely lily-of-the-valley-ish. As noted earlier, it lasted over 13.75 hours on my perfume consuming skin, closer to 14 actually, with 3 atomizer sprays amounting to 2 tiny sprays from an actual bottle. My skin usually has trouble holding onto floral soliflores, especially if they’re very green or white, so those numbers should tell you something. (One Serge Lutens floral, A La Nuit, lasted less than an hour on me!) I suspect Muguet Fleuri would last even longer on a person with normal skin.

For all that I love the most intense, dark, masculine, heavy orientals, I also love the polar extreme with very pure, crystal-clear, dewy florals. Serge Lutens‘ De Profundis is one example, but so is Oriza’s ethereal Chypre Mousse. It’s not actually a floral, but it has the same spirit and atmospherics as De Profundis: Nature reduced to its purest essence. Muguet Fleuri, too, conveys that mood feel for much of its opening hours. The difference is that Muguet Fleuri is the embodiment of Spring and rebirth — a sunlit, dewy greenness to counter De Profundis’ purple twilight, or Chypre Mousse’s autumnal forest. This time around, Oriza’s enchanted landscape isn’t littered with mushrooms, the focus is not on the damp floor with its dead leaves, and the feeling isn’t of greenness flecked by darkness.

Art by Rachel Anderson. Source: zdjecia.nurka.pl

Now, instead, the sun has come out, and the fairies have woken up from their winter’s sleep. The crisp, icy air is now softened by a Spring glow; new, bright green shoots are pushing out of the wet earth; white muguet is everywhere, its little bells shaking off the morning dew; and violets nestle at the base of a large cedar tree, its purple delicacy nestled in a sea of fuzzy, peppered, spicy greenness. But, honestly, the absolute best part is that crystal-clear, liquid sweetness of the opening hours, that essence of lily of the valley concentrated down to a thick nectar. It’s truly beautiful. I felt invigorated, fresh, and a little bit free of heavy weight, as if I’d emerged purified from water.

The subsequent middle and final stages are very pretty, but they didn’t move me quite so lyrically and powerfully as Muguet Fleuri’s opening hours. The main reason why is that I’m not particularly enthused by soapy cleanness of any kind — even if it is as subtle as it is here — nor by floral powder. But I’m very finicky about those things — much more than others. Still, I would absolutely wear Muguet Fleuri. In a heartbeat, in fact. I would wear it for the places it transports me to in the first few hours, and for the soothing, almost Zen-like serenity it gave me at one point. I think it would be a lovely fragrance to wear in the summer heat, but I would wear it for the enchanted forest, first and foremost.

Source: pixgood.com

Muguet Fleuri is too new for any online reviews, so I’m afraid you’re stuck with my impressions for now. All I can tell you is that, to me, it is the Spring-time sister to Chypre Mousse. The latter is very much a “love it/hate it” scent, so I hope that reference can guide you. As to Muguet Fleuri’s gender appeal, I think it skews feminine in nature. I say that primarily because I don’t know any men who wear lily of the valley soliflores, and I don’t know if the peppered, crunchy violet leaves will provide enough of a counterpart to Muguet Fleuri’s main note or to its soapy/powder undertones. On the other hand, I’ve read of some men who buy Guerlain’s annual Muguet scent, so who knows. Speaking of the latter, I haven’t tried any of their lily-of-the-valley soliflores, but I can’t imagine that Guerlain would ever put out something so potent, intense, and different as a Chypre Mousse-like fragrance. I simply can’t imagine it. Moreover, Oriza L. Legrand’s fragrances have a definite signature — and it’s nothing like a Guerlain.

Muguet Fleuri is now 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. The fragrance is too new to be carried by other Oriza retailers, like First in Fragrance, at this point, but I’m sure that will change soon. As a side note, the Oriza line is now sold in New York at a boutique called Juju Amuse (see the details section below), but their e-shop only carries clothing, not fragrances. However, Luckyscent in LA will start carrying the Oriza L. Legrand line starting next week, including the lovely soaps. In the meantime, if you want to test Muguet Fleuri, Oriza’s original and very affordable 6-fragrance Sampler Set has now been expanded to 7, to include the new Muguet Fleuri.

All in all, Muguet Fleuri feels like Spring’s floral symphony in a fairy forest, and I highly encourage anyone who loves both lilies of the valley and violets to give it a try.

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: Muguet Fleuri is an eau de parfum that comes in a 100 ml or 3.4 oz bottle, and costs €90. Muguet Fleuri 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, except for 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 should get the Oriza L. Legrand line next week. Right now, it is 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, but Muguet Fleuri is not shown on their website at this time. 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.

Serge Lutens Féminité du Bois

Posted on April 11, 2014 by Kafkaesque

Source: spicewallpaper.blogspot.com

A thick fog of red and brown spices covers the cedar forest, while the ground runs purple from a river of darkened fruits and sticky plums. The leaves are sprinkled with ginger and cumin, hiding the heavy peaches from sight. One giant cedar towers above all the rest, with dark, dry bark that is lightly peppered, and sometimes dusted with sweetened powder. Its ancient roots protectively cradle African violets that cast a purple glow like a beacon. Its fragrant smell briefly infiltrates the sticky, purple haze of gingered plums, but the cedar forest rules over them all. It’s a forest called Féminité du Bois.

The original Shiseido Feminite du Bois. Source: olfactoriastravels.com

Féminité du Bois is an eau de parfum that is considered both ground-breaking and quite revolutionary. At the time of its debut in 1992, there was nothing quite like its Oriental play on woody masculinity and feminine sweetness, all running on a river of heavily spiced, darkened fruits, and meant to evoke the precise smell of Morocco’s cedar wood.

Beyond that, however, Féminité du Bois has a very important history within the Lutens brand itself. It is essentially the mothership for many subsequent Lutens fragrances, particularly in his Bois Collection, and was the first to demonstrate the famous Lutens signature of sweet, spiced, dark fruits nestled in a wooded framework inspired by Morocco. Yet, Féminité du Bois originally began as a perfume for Shiseido, and it is one of the few Lutens creations that was not made solely by Christopher Sheldrake. Actually, most of the work was done by the famous Pierre Bourdon.

Luca Turin, the famous perfume critic, briefly talks about the origins of Féminité du Bois in his book, Perfumes: The A-Z Guide. He explains how the “woody-fruity structure of Féminité du Bois was first devised by the perfumer Pierre Bourdon, … and then passed on to perfumer Christopher Sheldrake, who developed it with Lutens… to keep it as dark and transparent as possible.” When Lutens decided to leave Shiseido and open his own perfume house, he needed more perfumes for his brand, and decided to do variations on his uber-successful Féminité. Enter, the Bois series, with such fragrances as Bois en Violette and Bois et Fruits. Shiseido, however, seems to have kept ownership of the Mother, Féminité du Bois, until it was finally and officially returned to the Serge Lutens marque in 2009.

The Lutens Feminite du Bois.

Luckyscent elaborates further on the background, development and significance of Feminite du Bois (which I’ll spell from here on out without the accents for speed and convenience), as well as reformulations made to the scent in recent years:

A milestone in the history of contemporary perfumery, Féminité du Bois can be considered as the template of Serge Lutens’ trademark woods, fruit and spices variations. As the stories goes, Lutens, who had yet to launch his Salons du Palais Royal line, dragged the Shiseido and Quest teams to Marrakech to make them understand just what he was after: the quintessence of Atlas cedar. Christopher Sheldrake was the one who caught on; the great Pierre Bourdon completed the formula. The result was a breakthrough in the world of women’s fragrances: a dark, honeyed, animalic wood rubbed with candied fruit, sweet balms and the slow burn of spices, encrusted with the amethyst flash of violets.

Today, Féminité du Bois, the mother of all Lutens fragrances, has left Shiseido and found its true home. It has shed its strangely compelling dusty pink and plum flacon and Lutens has officially admitted that the formula was slightly tweaked to comply with new regulations, though he maintains that “the quality (creative and olfactive) remains authentic”. Aficionados may find the top notes a tad softer and the base a little muskier, but the fragrance is still entirely, deliciously Féminité du Bois.

Surrender to Chance has a similar comment about the new version (which it says was released in 2012, not 2009) and the reformulated changes:

Serge Lutens has noted that the formula has been altered to comply with the new IFRA regulations – softer top notes and a muskier base.

A young cedar tree trunk.

For Serge Lutens, the focus of the scent is not the plummy, spiced fruits for which he has become famous, but the cedar and the perfume’s twist on femininity. On his website, Serge Lutens says:

This scent expresses the masculine side of femininity and vice-versa.

It’s all about cedar. Wood accounted for 60% of the composition. Amazed, people called it revolutionary. The fragrance took on its own identity, which is the one thing that really matters to me.

As always, the official notes in a Serge Lutens fragrance are unknown, but Luckyscent says they include:

Ginger, cinnamon, clove, plum, peach, orange blossom, violet, cedar, sandalwood, vanilla, benzoin.

I would add beeswax or labdanum to that list, along with cumin. To my nose, there is definitely some cumin in Feminite du Bois, slight though it may be. As point of contrast, the original Shiseido Feminite is said to have the following elements:

With top notes of cedarwood, orange blossom, peach, honey, plum, and beeswax; middle notes of cedarwood, clove, cardamom, and cinnamon; and base notes of cedarwood, clove, cardamom, and cinnamon.

Source: veganyumyum.com

The modern, current version of Feminite du Bois opens on my skin with a dense, concentrated, syrupy blend of ginger, cooked plums, cumin and cedar, followed by lighter touches of orange blossom and cinnamon. The dark, almost resinous, stickiness of gingered plums is heavily bracketed by the dry, slightly smoky cedar, but a subtle, tiny pop of vanilla lurks at the edges. The orange blossom adds a floral sweetness to ensure that Feminite du Bois is never all about the spices or the woods, but it is a subtle touch that seems to fade quickly into the background.

Crystallized, candied Ginger. Source: nuts.com

As a whole, the most dominant elements in Feminite du Bois’ opening moments are the spices and fruits. The ginger is simultaneously pungent, slightly biting and fresh, crystallized and sweet. It is backed by a definite trace of cumin, adding to the Moroccan inspiration. It is a very subtle and muffled touch on my skin, though much more noticeable than the cinnamon that barely appears in any concrete way. As for the cloves, I’ve worn Feminite du Bois a number of times, and I’ve never noticed it. Generally, the ginger dominates them all, while the rest melt into the plum molasses merely as an abstract, very generalized “spice” accord.

Monin violet syrup. Source: us.monin.com

Other elements are noticeable alongside the ginger. The peach is juicy, sweet, and thoroughly infused with the orange blossom. Then, there are the violets. Initially, they hover at the edges, noticeable primarily through their dewy, liquidy, slightly woody, green floralacy. Within 10 minutes, however, they turn more syrupy, lose some of their dewy delicacy, and seep onto center stage where they join the ginger plum molasses and the dry cedar.

Around the same time, Feminite du Bois undergoes a radical shift. The perfume turns very airy and light on my skin, losing at least 60% of its initial dense viscosity and weight. I cannot believe just how rapidly this perfume changes from the heavy, thick, sticky opening, almost as if the whole thing had been diluted with water.

It’s a shockingly fast transition to the transparency mentioned by Luca Turin, and it’s matched by a similar softness in sillage. Two big sprays from my atomizer yielded 2 inches in projection, at best, while double that quantity only increased the radius by another inch. Don’t get me wrong, Feminite du Bois is still very potent up close, but you have to be up close indeed. This isn’t a powerhouse scent by any means. From afar, it now feels practically gauzy as compared to the heft and syrupy density that I first experienced. And all this within a mere 10 minutes! It has to be due to the reformulation issue, and I suddenly understand why so many lovers of the vintage Shiseido version act so depressed when the subject of the modern Feminite comes up.

Photo: Manal at collectionphotos.com/

I find Feminite du Bois to be an odd scent on other levels, too. Primarily, the way that Feminite rapidly diffuses, as its notes lose shape, clear delineation and distinctness. It takes less than 30 minutes for the notes to blur into each other, and for Feminite du Bois becomes a haze of ginger, syrupy plums, and violets in a dark, spiced, dry, cedar embrace. The other elements pop up occasionally in the background, particularly the peach and, to a lesser extent, the cumin, but they’re rather weak. The whole bouquet hovers just an inch above the skin, at best.

Photo: my own

The cedar grows stronger with every passing minute and eventually turns into the dominant element after 90 minutes. It is infused with plumminess, dusted with ginger, and has a light dash of powderiness as if from tonka. The violet retreats to the sidelines where it joins the peach, orange blossom and cumin in muted silence. In the base, there is the tiniest suggestion of labdanum, judging by the tell-tale trace of honeyed beeswax and a flicker of toffee lurking at the edges.

“Shell Life” by David White. Source: skytopia.com

That’s really about it in terms of layers, complexity or major developments on my skin. At the end of the 4th hour, Feminite du Bois is a skin scent and an abstract blur of spiced, fruited, lightly powdered cedar with a mix of sweetness and dryness. Eventually, it turns into powdered, vaguely sweet woodiness, and dies away entirely. With 2 sprays from my atomizer, Feminite du Bois lasted exactly 6.75 hours on my skin. With double that quantity, the time frame was pushed out by another 75 minutes. Truth be told, I found the sillage and longevity to be disappointing.

In preparation for this review, I read back what I’d written on the famous Bois de Violette, one of Feminite’s most beloved offspring. I noticed that much of my experience with the Mother paralleled what I had previously gone through with the child. There is the same tendency for the secondary notes to rapidly hit small peaks before ebbing away like the tide. In the case of Feminite du Bois, first it was the florals which melted into the background about forty minutes into the perfume’s development, and which were no longer noticeable in an individual, distinct manner. Then, it was the turn of the spices which turned amorphous and abstract, having merely an indirect effect on the fruited cedar duo. Finally, just as with Bois de Violette, Feminite du Bois took exactly 90 minutes to turn muted and subdued, with blurred edges that made the fragrance feel like an out-of-focus snapshot of fruited, spiced woodiness.

For everyone else, the response to Feminite du Bois seems to depend largely on whether or not the person knew and loved the original Shiseido version. Newcomers to Feminite du Bois seem to thoroughly enjoy it. Old admirers generally bemoan what has happened with the reformulation, though there are a few commentators on places like Luckyscent who don’t find it too terrible, and one who insists that the new version actually lasts longer.

Cedar bark. Source: mlewallpapers.com

On Fragrantica, the vast majority generally like the scent, but a few have some issues. Cedar is a note which can translate to some noses as “pencil shavings,” and that is a point which comes up a few times. A handful found the cumin/wood combination to be difficult. Some women rave about how feminine the perfume is, while a few men found it wholly masculine. One woman’s extremely positive review reads as follows:

It opens on my skin with a burst of cedar, conjuring up images of bonfires in autumn. It’s like a nostalgic hug. As the heart notes begin to show themselves, I get spiced plum and ginger. A gorgeous, spiced fruit concoction that never gets sweet, but never too spicy either. The cedar and other wood notes stay lingering in the background, but allow the fruit and spices to steal the show during the dry down.

I adore how feminine this is without being floral or powdery in the slightest. It’s fruity without ever getting sickly and spicy/woody without ever getting overtly masculine. It even has peach that doesn’t smell like it belongs on a teenager! It’s basically everything I always wanted a perfume to be. [¶] Excellent longevity, very light sillage (which I appreciate here. I wear this like a secret).

Source: wallippo.com

As some of you know, I really like and own one of Feminite’s offspring, Bois et Fruits, so I was interested to read a Fragrantica review that compared the perfume mother with two of her Bois children:

One my favorite fragrance of all time. Feminite Du Bois smells like a slightly more feminized version of Bois et Fruits. It is lighter in weight to me than Fruits (although some people say the exact opposite). They smell extremely similar but BeF is more dense and spicy; FdB is more soft and feminine, especially the dry down. I love them both but if I had to choose one it would probably be FdB. Bois de Violette smells extremely similar to both also. I am amazed at how similar the Lutens “Bois” all smell.

It is impossible to put into words what smelling Feminite du Bois does to my brain. It is sort of an other worldly experience. It smells so good that it is distracting and literally makes it hard to focus on anything else when I get a whiff of it. I have heard that the original Shiseido version is ever better…and if that is the case I am certain my heart might stop if I ever smelled it. [Emphasis to names added by me.]

Source: wallpaper-source.com

Some people find the scent to be all about roses, others about creamy woods, a handful mention Dior‘s Dolce Vita, and a few think it’s sexual as hell:

oh my goodness. I’ve found the holy grail of perfumes. This is manifique’ …beautiful exquisite, definently unisex however leans more twords feminine. Just a perfect rose blend, not too much cedar just the right amount and the spice pepper is perfect.

This is a woody rose fragrance, but on top of this is a prominent herbal-medicinal smell, particularly on initial application. As this medicinal smell fades, it becomes warm and sensuous and very likeable. It is for the evening, but does not screech sexuality – rather it is deep and womanly.

it is beautiful! I can smell the resemblance to Dolce Vita, but this one is much more woody and less sweet. In the drydown I detect an animalic element, not at all evident from the beginning. Feminite du Bois speaks of an almost primitive, raw femininity that not everybody can handle. But if you have the persona to wear it, it will be a combination one of a kind!

Feminite du Bois by Serge Lutens is a highly sexed and slightly sloshed slice of everyday bohemia. [¶] It dances along the line between near propriety and beyond the pale and ends up firmly planting its big feet on the wrong side of the tracks. [¶] After an early and brief spring of orange blossom and a slightly boozy, on the turn peach, the foliage and fruits give way quickly to the main part of the tree and the backbone of the perfume, the trunk. [¶] This is a fragrance that never fails to get and give good wood.

And the most hilarious assessment of them all:

Pencil shavings, erasers, and sweaty, over- sexed nether regions ensconced in powder and petals on a dark forest floor. This is female, dark female, at its most natural and primal realm, all possible elements included. This is the fragrance of a pinned up librarian by day, sex goddess by night. The lady is not what she seems…

Source: curejoy.com

The detractors are louder on Luckyscent, though not always about the actual fragrance itself:

The first Serge Lutens I have disliked. The combination of cinnamon, cedar and musk has a simultaneously antiseptic and Aden quality that is headache inducing.

This was a gorgeous light and feminine sandalwood for all of the six minutes that it lasted on my skin. I’m impressed by the elegance of the wood mixed with light floral notes but not by the lack of durability.

Well, not bad, but nothing special. Rather flat scent.

i have 1992 feminitie de bois, this is not even close. really not the same. very dissapointed when i compared

That comment about Feminite du Bois lasting a mere 6 minutes might be hyperbole, but perhaps not by too much. I’ve read several comments on Fragrantica and elsewhere saying that the perfume lasts a mere 15 minutes, 45 minutes, or just a brief few hours. The very soft, intimate sillage doesn’t help in making the perfume’s presence known. However, for a small minority of people, Feminite du Bois was quite long-lasting. On Fragrantica, the votes break down as follows:

Longevity: 42 chose Moderate (3-6 hours), followed then by 20 votes for Long Lasting (7-12 hours) and 8 for Very Long-Lasting (12+ hours).
Sillage: 45 for Moderate, 23 for Soft, 20 for Heavy, and 11 for Enormous.

I suspect that Feminite du Bois is a fragrance which will require a good number of sprays to really last, but which will always be extremely discreet and unobtrusive in projection unless your skin really amplifies perfume. Thankfully, the perfume is quite affordable on a number of discount retail sites, thereby enabling you to spray with wild abandon if you want to increase its longevity. In the Details section below, you will find links to places which offer Feminite du Bois for as low as $68 in lieu of the usual retail price of $130.

The bottom line for Feminite du Bois really comes down to a few things. If you’re a hardcore Lutens fan who hasn’t tried either version of Feminite du Bois, you should explore the new one — if only to know the Mothership for the Lutens signature as a whole. If you knew the original Shiseido legend, however, odds are that you’ll be disappointed with the reformulated, weakened version. And if you’ve never tried either one or if you are generally unfamiliar with the Lutens line, you should give Feminite du Bois a sniff provided that: you enjoy very woody, spiced, unisex Oriental fragrances; and you don’t mind scents that are initially heavy in feel, but then quickly become soft, sheer, and intimate. Ideally, you shouldn’t mind a bit of cumin or some sticky, fruited sweetness, either. If any of that sounds like you, then Feminite du Bois may be right up your alley.

DETAILS:

General Cost & Discounted Sales Prices: Feminite du Bois is an eau de parfum that comes in a 1.7 oz/50 ml bottle. It costs $130, €85, or £74. There is also the option of buying the scent in two sleek, black, 30 ml “refill” sprays, for a total of 60 ml or 2 oz all in all, for $135 or €90. That last option is exclusive to the Lutens websites (see below). However, you can find Feminite du Bois discounted in the 50 ml size on Amazon for a mere $68.95. It is sold directly by Amazon, not through third-party vendors. Feminite du Bois is also discounted on FragranceNet for the same price of $68.95 with a coupon and free domestic shipping. (International shipping is free for orders over $100.) FragranceNet has numberous sub-sites for the UK, EU, Canada, Scandinavia, Australia, and more. Go to the top right-hand side of the page, click the flag icon, and chose your country. The UK price is £41.64, the Canadian price is CAD$76.78, the Australian is AUD 74.70, and the EU discounted price is €50.

Serge Lutens & U.S. vendors: You can find Feminite du Bois in the 50 ml bottle on Serge Lutens’ U.S. and International websites. The refill option is also available on the U.S. and International sites. Elsewhere, Feminite du Bois is available in the 50 ml size from Barney’s, Luckyscent, Aedes, and Beautyhabit.

Outside the U.S.: In Canada, you can find Feminite du Bois at The Perfume Shoppe for what may be US$120, not Canadian, as it is an American company with a Vancouver branch. They also offer some sample or travel options for Lutens perfumes. In the UK, you can find Feminite du Bois at Harrods and Liberty, priced at £74. In France, it is sold at Sephora for €87.50, but Premiere Avenue has it for €79. The latter ships world-wide. Essenza Nobile also has Feminite du Bois for €79. In Belgium, the Lutens line is found at Senteurs d’Ailleurs. In Australia, Feminite du Bois is discounted by FragranceNet at the link given above. For regular distribution, the Lutens line in Australia can be found at Mecca Cosmetica. For all other locations, from Bahrain to Tokyo, Saudi Arabia, Lebanon, and Korea, you can use the Lutens Store Locator Guide.

Samples: Surrender to Chance sells Feminite du Bois starting at $6.99 for a 1 ml vial. It also has the very rare, possibly vintage Shiseido Version starting at $7.99 for a 1/2 ml vial.

Roja Dove Danger Pour Homme

Posted on April 10, 2014 by Kafkaesque

Source: wallpapercentrals.com

A walk through a citrus orchid quickly leads to lavender fields that are first brisk and bracing, then creamy and smoothened into ice cream. The light all around is thick with salty-sweet ambergris, a golden haze rendered even richer with patchouli and spices. Dry woods hover at the edges, with mighty cedar casting its long shadow over the creamy warmth lightly flecked by leather. It’s not a tale of Danger, but of ambered, spicy warmth that is both very unisex for Oriental lovers, and quite delicious at times.

Danger Pour Homme is a fragrance from Roja Dove. It was released in 2011, and is available in a pure parfum or Extrait form, along with an eau de parfum concentration. This review is for the Extrait. And I’d like to stress again that, contrary to the name, Danger is wholly unisex in feel. On his personal Roja Parfums website, Roja Dove describes the scent as follows:

Danger Parfum or Extrait. Source: Paris Gallery.

“You’ve Been Warned”
FRESH, SWEET, WARM, VERY SENSUAL, and LEATHERY
“Laden with potent aphrodisiacs — this creation is not dangerous for the man who wears it — it is dangerous for the woman who smells it on him.” –Roja Dove.

INGREDIENTS:
Top: Bergamot, Lemon, Tarragon, Lavender, Cumin
Heart: Jasmine, Violet, Lily of the Valley
Base: Vetiver, Cedarwood, Wood Notes, Clove, Galbanum, Oakmoss, Patchouli, Rhubarb, Ambergris, Vanilla Castoreum, Musk, Leather Notes, Tonka Bean.

Source: backgrounds.mysitemyway.com

Danger opens on my skin with incredibly brightness centered on fresh bergamot and sun-sweetened, warmed lemons. It is followed within seconds by patchouli infused with amber. This is my sort of patchouli, real patchouli and one of my favorite notes in perfumery with its spicy, smoky, beautifully brown richness. The ambergris also smells real, instead of the more generic “amber” often found in perfumery. It’s slightly salty, musky, almost wet and marshy, with a strong vein of caramel running through it. Fast on the heels of the patchouli-amber combination is a powerful lavender note that transforms Danger’s opening into that of a fougère, albeit one of the oriental fougère sub-class.

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

As a result, Danger’s opening feels split down the middle, with bright, fresh, bracing, aromatic notes on one side, and spicy, multi-faceted warmth on the other. The lavender initially smells clean, very herbal, and pungent. The twin threads of herbaceous and citric freshness are supplemented by rivulets of oakmoss, then dashes of green galbanum and hints of lime with an equally herbal tarragon.

Arriving on the other side of the aisle are spicier, warmer notes. Most noticeable is the cumin which is sweet, spicy, and a little bit animalic. Yet, cumin-phobes should not fear. At no time does it smell of food or body odor, let alone stale, unwashed, fetid sweatiness. It merely adds an additional layer of spiciness to the stunning patchouli. The spicy sweetness is amplified by cloves, a creamy vanilla, and a subtle vein of rich, burnished, smooth leather. The latter feels almost honeyed, but it also is more of an impression of “leather” on my skin than the actual note. It’s a largely abstract accord — more of an idea, if you will — and a subtle one at that.

Danger changes quickly and within minutes. The bracing lavender turns very creamy, though it’s not yet on the verge of being lavender ice-cream. A tiny whisper of nebulous, indistinct florals lurks about the edges, the saltiness grows stronger from the oakmoss and ambergris, and the cumin-patchouli accord melts into everything. I don’t smell any lily-of-the-valley, violet, or jasmine in an individual way — now or at any point in Danger’s development. The main impression from afar is of honeyed, spicy, ambered warmth with herbs, citruses, creamy sweetness and a hint of burnished, aged leather. Up close, the vanilla slowly softens the lavender’s edges, while the golden haze of the ambergris grows richer.

Five minutes in, the cumin, oakmoss, cloves, leather and tarragon merge into the other notes, transitioning seamlessly and in perfect balance. They all work indirectly to add further richness to the notes, but they aren’t a strong presence in an individual way. I no longer smell Danger, and instantly think “Oh, cumin!” or “Oh, oakmoss and leather.” Out of the three, however, the cumin remains the most distinct, noticeable element for the greatest amount of time. Every time I think it has actually disappeared, its dusted, sweet spiciness pops back up at the edges, but it’s quite muted.

Photo: Emily M. Hanson on Deviant Art. emilymhanson.deviantart.com

As a whole, Danger’s opening bouquet is primarily centered on bright citruses, aromatic but increasingly creamy lavender, spices, patchouli, and vanillic sweetness upon a rich, slightly salty, musky ambergris base. It is a perfectly balanced, rather heady, and addictive layering, but Danger is also much airier than those rich notes would lead you to believe. 3 small sprays from my atomizer, amounting to about 1.5 sprays from an actual bottle, create a soft, extremely deep, rich cloud that hovers roughly 2-3 inches above the skin. That number drops, though, to just an inch in projection at the end of the first hour. And, there, it remains for quite a while.

Danger is a very rich, refined, luxurious scent, but it also made me think of a number of other fragrances. Initially, in the opening minutes, Danger brought to mind Roja Dove’s creation for Puredistance, the fantastic M. Danger has the same sort of quasi-leather nuances with bright citruses, all anchored upon a very oriental framework, but the similarities end there. Danger is substantially more herbal and heavily spiced than M, and much less citric. It is primarily a fougère in its opening phase, while M is a chypre. For Danger, the oakmoss is but a tiny, fleeting blip in the overall framework; it is quite the opposite for M. In addition, M has no lavender or patchouli, let alone cumin in even the tiniest degree.

Photo: Wanna Be A Country Cleaver, Megan Cleaver, via Tastykitchen.com

A stronger connection is to Histoires de Parfums 1725 (Casanova) but, even more so, to Parfums de Nicolai‘s new Amber Oud. The latter is a fragrance with zero oud that opens with creamy lavender-vanilla before transitioning to a lavender, vanilla, spicy patchouli, amber scent. The similarities become particularly strong about 20 minutes into Danger’s evolution when the vanilla seeps into everything, turning the lavender into aromatic ice-cream and making the patchouli even smoother. The cedar shows up around the same time, initially lurking around the edges in the same way that it does in Amber Oud, though it grows significantly stronger over the course of Danger’s development.

Photo: Victoria Goncharenk via de.fotolia.com

However, here, too, there are differences. Amber Oud has no cumin, no bright citruses, and no undertones of leather. It is sweeter and substantially more vanillic, not to mention much less woody. The amber notes in the two fragrances are also quite different, as there is initially just a generic “amber” in the Nicolai scent which eventually turns into labdanum. Danger, however, opens with a clear ambergris tonality that slowly turns more abstract and more into simple golden warmth. In Danger, the cedar is much stronger as a whole, and the perfume is also lightly flecked by vetiver at the end of the first hour. For the most part, it smells like a much richer, more complex, nuanced creation than the much simpler, sweeter, less woody Amber Oud.

Photo: Jo Van Damme on Flickr. (Website link embedded within photo..)

Speaking of woodiness, Danger picks up an interesting undertone after 40 minutes. The cedar provides a subtle smokiness, but there is a tiny streak of black tarriness that also lurks deep within the base. I have to wonder if the unspecified “woody notes” include birch, and my impression grows stronger at the start of the 3rd hour. Many fragrances attempt to recreate “leather” through other notes. As the Perfume Shrine explains, “[r]endering a leather note in perfumery is a challenge for the perfumer[,]” and that what is “actually used” to create that olfactory impression are vegetal or synthetic ingredients which can include birch tar, juniper cade, and quinoline. The Perfume Shrine adds:

isobutyl quinoline … possesses a fiercely potent odour profile described as earthy, rooty, and nutty, echoing certain facets of oakmoss and vetiver and blending very well with both. Isobutyl quinoline also has ambery, woody, tobacco-like undertones: a really rich aromachemical!

Much of that description applies to what I smell in Danger. There is a very quiet, very muted smokiness lurking at the edges, but there is also a definite trace of something tobacco’d to my nose. It pops up about 2.5 hours into Danger’s development, and is definitely nutty in nature, almost verging on a coffee nuance at times. It works very well with the subtle vetiver, the growing presence of the cedar, and the spicy sweetness of the patchouli.

Art by Emma Gallery Art Deco at aliexpress.com

By the end of the 3rd hour, Danger is an infinitely creamy blend of sweet, spicy patchouli with vanilla, amber, vetiver, vaguely tobacco-like tonalities, cedar, and lingering traces of something nebulously herbal. The whole thing is flecked with general woodiness, a subtle smokiness, and tiny touches of cumin — all upon a sliver of something leathered in the base. The lavender lingers in the most abstract, muted form possible. Like the cumin, every time I think it’s finally vanished, a tiny dash of something herbal reappears in the background. Soon thereafter, a little after the start of the 4th hour, Danger turns into a skin scent on me.

“Fire Storm” by Marina Petro. Source: marinapetro.blogspot.com

Danger’s core essence remains unchanged for a while. Many of the notes merely turn more abstract, losing their distinct shape and edge, and the perfume devolves into something softer. The amber in the base re-emerges after 6 hours and rises to the surface again, adding a caramel warmth to the patchouli and woods. Tonka is lightly threaded throughout. Around 8.25 hours into Danger’s evolution, the perfume is a soft blur of tonka, patchouli and cedar, all infused with an amorphous, warm, ambered glow.

“Shell Life” by David White. Source: skytopia.com

With every passing moment, the perfume turns more abstract. By the end of the 9th hour, Danger is a creamy, sweet blend of tonka and woodiness with just the lightest touch of patchouli. In its final moments, it is merely slightly powdered tonka with a dash of woodiness. All in all, Danger Extrait lasted just a little over 11.75 hours on my perfume-consuming skin with 3 small sprays from my atomizer. The sillage was generally very soft after the first hour.

I thoroughly enjoyed certain parts of Danger, especially as I’m a serious “patch head,” but I have to confess that my early enthusiasm for the scent waned. The opening 20 minutes are wonderful, especially with the cumin, but the perfume lost a lot of its more interesting qualities at the end of the 90 minutes. There is richness, quality, and spicy warmth galore — no doubt about it. I simply wasn’t very moved by the overall sum total. Don’t get me wrong, Danger is lovely in smell, but it also feels a little uninteresting and simple at its core. If it cost $150 or something more in line with other niche pricing, I wouldn’t have an issue, but I’d like to be moved much more for $435 (a price that is soon going to rise further within the next few days and is for a 50 ml bottle, not a 100 ml one).

I think it really comes down to personal perfume tastes and the Roja Dove style. I’ve reviewed about 7 of his fragrances at this point, from his two Fetishes to Diaghilev, his Amber Aoud, Innuendo or Creation-I for Women, and Enigma (Creation-E), and I can appreciate the solid, core refinement that is his signature. I see the extreme quality, as well as the skill shown by a number of them. But I’m continuously left feeling flat.

Gainsborough. “Landscape with Cows and Human Figure.”

They simply don’t speak to me, move me, or demonstrate a soul other than luxuriousness. Some people like Van Gogh, others like Gainsborough, Rubens or Klimt. There is no doubt that all of them are masters, but they don’t suit every taste. For me, Roja Dove has the perfect brush strokes, but perhaps it’s a little too perfect, and a little too centered on seamless opulence on a largely flat oil canvas. Danger evokes the feel and colours of Gainsborough’s warm, rich landscapes, but I’ve never been particularly swayed by Gainsborough — and I’m not here, either, my patchouli love notwithstanding. For Danger’s very high price, I’d like something a little spark of life or a distinctive character that goes beyond mere luxurious quality and richness. But that’s just me.

Well, perhaps not entirely just me. I was taken aback and completely surprised to see a distinct level of unenthusiasm for Danger on the official Basenotes thread for the fragrance. Some of the comments there:

meh. [¶] bought it blind cuz it was cheap (ish) on ebay and i wanted to try a roja dove. i sold it after three full wearing. it was quite sumptuous but utterly mediocre, if that makes any sense. a sort of amalgam of classic fougeres that just didn’t say anything. apparently he also did puerdistance M; didn’t like that either. i’ll stick with duchaufour, jp guerlain, roucel, sheldrake, thank you very much

A boring masculine with no particular twists. The quality is absolutely there but, at these prices, it’s not enough. More “stereotyped” than “classic”.

I enjoyed the scent as it started very citrusy and refreshing; then I got a mixture of fougere notes that lasted for about 3 hours max. [¶] I was hoping for a big perfume soul but just got an average masculine fougere with average longevity. [¶] Disappointed… [¶]
Medium Thumbs !

Source: Wallpaperscraft.com

There is one very positive review, however, and it reads, in part:

Ambregris and Vetiver

I don’t recommend everyone to try the Eau de Parfum concentration. The beauty of Roja’s perfumes lives in the interaction of a sumptuous base with the heart notes, after a bright start (bergamot is the signature usually, bitter but extremely sparkling); to obtain this you should smell, absolutely, the Parfum version. […][¶]

DpH (parfum concetration) for me is the finest and most sensual combination between tons of natural ambregris (intense salinity, deep and gently animal), and tons of Haiti vetiver burbon with “grandeur”. A sparkling opening of bergamot (as always) dense and palpable with the bright green of galbanum; subtle violaceous nuances of Grasse jasmin and lily of the valley. Finest ingredients made by Robertet in Grasse. I was shocked to percive such that quantity of natural ambregris in a modern perfume, as to keep the salty in the bottom of the tongue and be able to feel it with the taste. So much to fix the drydown for three days on my wirst. Here is the “Danger”: a soft, sensual animality with a great depth (ambregris) in a so luminous fragrance with the most souave vetiver that I’ve smell.

Source: Usafilm.info

On Fragrantica, the comments are much more positive, with one noticeable exception:

it smells to me more like an oriental fougere than an oriental fragrance. I cannot detect the leather or amber to noticeable; instead, i get a good dose of a classic combination of lavender, spices (with the clove the most noticeable on my skin), herbs, woods and some coumarinic/vanillic touch. It smells true to the good fougere orientals and it makes me think, while not being equal, to Opium Pour Homme and the recent Houbigant Fougere Imperiale. I’m sure that Roja Dove uses excellent materials in his compositions, but the Fougere family is one that for me i don’t see such a deep difference between something more affordable and something expensive like this that would justify the price and purchase.

1725 Casanova is a cheaper option which smells eerily similar to Danger pour homme in terms of its bright floral nature. Roja Dove not shy on ingredients, brings the house with more notes than Mr.T have necklaces. Far from the average “chick magnet” fragrance, this is a conversational piece and dare I say an event on its own. Danger has a complexity that I can only compare to a kaleidoscope. Led by an array of feminine florals, this fragrance manages to never get in its own way. Overall, this is a light airy fragrance with massive sillage and longevity. I found this to be perfectly unisex.

Danger Homme Parfum are tons of salty, musky, sweet NATURAL Ambregris (yes, natural ambregris) perfectly balanced with other tons of the best Haiti Vetiver. This wonder opens with the light of bergamot and warmed by soft woods and mountain flowers. A touch of rare natural Grasse-Jasmin gives a subdued suede tone. In this concentration and thanks to ambregris the sillage and longevity are huge.

smells like they took Amouage Gold Man and said “let’s try to make this not smell terrible.” and they did a great job, replacing the animalistic element of civet with castoreum, ambergris, and leather. they also tone down the feminine florals to an acceptable level. this to me seems like the best modern take on a classic men’s fragrance. Which does put in more on the mature side for me. And while it lasted all day, the projection was practically none existent on me. [Emphasis to names with bolding added by me.]

I liked Danger the most out of the Roja fragrances that I’ve tried thus far, primarily because I am addicted to real patchouli. The ambergris and cumin touches are also lovely, though I wish the latter were not so muted and intangible. On the other hand, that should reassure any cumin-phobes who might have been put off by Danger’s list of notes.

In short, if you like oriental fougères, real ambergris, tons of patchouli, and spicy warmth, you may want to give Danger Pour Homme a sniff. It is truly unisex, in my opinion, so women who enjoy Histoires de Parfums’ 1725 Casanova, Parfums de Nicolai’s Amber Oud, or patchouli-amber scents in general should have no problems carrying off it off. Whether it moves you enough to be worth the price will be a very different matter, however, and will come down to personal, subjective tastes.

DETAILS:

Cost & Availability: Danger Pour Homme is a Pure Parfum or Extrait that comes a 50 ml/1.7 oz size that costs $435, €395 or £345. There is also a Eau de Parfum version which comes in a 100 ml bottle, and which costs $285, €265, or £225. The U.S. pricing will increase in a few days and in mid-April 2014. In the U.S.: Danger is available in all concentrations from Neiman Marcus and Bergdorf Goodman, though both sites are currently back-ordered at the time of this post. However, New York’s Osswald has both in stock at this time. The 100 ml EDP version is also sold on Amazon, either by “Roja Dove” or “Get Wholesale Price,” for around $391 which is higher than retail. Same thing with Cosmetics Now which sells the EDP of Danger for $355.95. Outside the U.S.: In the U.K, you can buy Danger in all versions directly from Roja Dove at his Haute Parfumerie on the 5th Floor of Harrods, his e-store at Roja Parfums, or Fortnum & Masons. However, Harrods sells only the 100 ml Eau de Parfum version. In France, Jovoy in Paris sells Danger in both versions for €395 or €265. Zurich’s Osswald also carries the full Roja line, and sells Danger, but they don’t really have an e-store. In the UAE, the Paris Gallery carries the whole Roja Parfums line and sells Danger in both Extrait and EDP. For all other locations, you can use the Roja Dove Locations listing which mentions more stores from Poland to Germany, Lithuania, Russia, and the Ukraine. There are no Canadian, Asian or Oceania vendors listed. Samples: If you’re in the U.S. but not close to any of the stores listed above, you can test Danger in either version by ordering samples by phone from OsswaldNY. They offer a deal of 10 samples for $20 (shipping included) for domestic customers. Their phone number is: (212) 625-3111. Surrender to Chance does not carry the fragrance at this time.

Roja Dove Amber Aoud

Posted on April 7, 2014 by Kafkaesque

No-one is immune from the oud trend, and that includes Roja Dove. One of his several agarwood fragrances is Amber Aoud which he describes as “sumptuous, mysterious sensuality.”

Amber Aoud in the 30 ml bottle. Source: Bergdorf Goodman website.

Amber Oud is an extrait or pure parfum that was released in 2012. It is centered on a rather straightforward, traditional combination of notes, with one small exception: birch tar. However, on his personal Roja Parfums website, Roja Dove focuses more on the resins underlying the scent:

“Sumptuous Mysterious Sensuality”
SOFT, SWEET, SPICY, WARM, and SENSUAL

“Many of the Gum Resins which have been used in perfumery for millennia originate from the Middle East. I took these materials and blended them with the exotic note of Aoud to create a scent which is both soft and sensual.” —Roja Dove.

INGREDIENTS
Top: Bergamot, Lemon, Lime
Heart: Fig, Jasmine, Rose, Ylang Ylang
Base: Ambergris, Aoud Wood, Birch, Cinnamon, Civet, Musk, Oakmoss, Orris, Patchouli, Saffron, Sandalwood.

Source: forwallpaper.com

Amber Aoud opens on my skin with a very traditional saffron, rose, oud combination, followed by smoky birch that has a slightly leathered nuance, a soft and golden amber, and a tinge of muskiness. The birch is really the best part for me, as it elevates Amber Aoud beyond the usual rose-oud-saffron trio. That said, the latter is very deep and luxurious. The saffron smells both spicy and buttered, adding a red-gold richness to the scent. The rose is dripping red juices, rendered jammy and syrupy from a very fruited patchouli. And the oud feels refined, slightly honeyed, and extremely smooth. Out of the three, the agarwood is actually the mildest and softest element, coming in third place in a way that would make Amber Aoud appealing to those who aren’t fond of hardcore oud scents.

There are other elements hovering about as well, though none of them are very profound. Tiny slivers of bergamot dart about, along a dash of cinnamon. Both die out within minutes on my skin. More noticeable, however, though still slight and muted, is the fig note which is both milky and faintly leathered. As a whole, Amber Aoud is primarily a saffron-rose-oud trio, flecked with a gentle, woody birch and anchored upon a very soft base of amber. The latter feels very abstract to me, as it doesn’t smell like true ambergris to my nose with its salty, marshy, slightly sweaty qualities. This is more of a simple golden softness that adds to the overall richness of the scent. It’s all very sweet, jammy, buttery smooth, slightly musky, and a tiny bit woody.

Source: Tasty Yummies blog. (Link to website embedded within photo.)

I want to talk upfront about something that long-time readers know full well. I’m not really one for rose fragrances as a general rule. However, I strongly dislike fragrances where the roses have been rendered jammy with a fruited, almost grape-y, purple, syrupy patchouli touch. (Fruitchouli must die!) Making matters worse, I’m completely burnt out on the rose-oud or rose-saffron-oud combination. In short, if you sense a flatness in my tone when talking about Amber Aoud, you need to put it into context. I wasn’t blown away by the perfume when I smelt it last year in Jovoy, and I’m not now. My personal tastes simply don’t tend that way.

“Bleeding Rose” by April Koehler. Source: redbubble.com

That said, I would be the first one to tell you that Amber Aoud is an incredibly smooth, luxurious take on the combination. If I were ever to like a patchouli-rose fragrance with saffron and oud, this might be on the list just after some of the Amouage attars. Every note in Amber Oud’s opening ripples like rosy velvet and liquid gold onto the skin, speaking of wealth and luxury. It’s not particularly original (or interesting), but then it’s not supposed to be. Amber Aoud is supposed to be the smoothest, most refined, softest interpretation of the classical, traditional standards — and it succeeds in that regard.

Silver birch tree. My own photo. Fjällnäs, Sweden.

The part that I like the most continues to be the birch. After 10 minutes, the note actually smells more of the wood itself than the way birch usually manifests itself in fragrances, which is either campfire smoke or tarry, black leather. The latter shows up at the end of the first hour, but the early nuances are really intriguing. There is almost an aromatic outdoorsy quality to the woodiness that evokes smooth tree bark. The tiniest whiff of black smokiness lingers underneath, but generally the smell transports me back in time to a silver birch forest I walked through in northern Sweden near the Arctic Circle. The whole thing works beautifully alongside the patchouli-rose, saffron, and oud combination, and feels like a completely original touch.

The second lovely aspect to Amber Aoud is the fig. It doesn’t last long, perhaps 20 minutes at most, but while it’s there, it adds subtle depth to the perfume. Part of it smells a little leathery in the particular, spicy way that fig can be, but the majority of it is just sweet milkiness. It contrasts well with the buttery spiciness of the saffron and the dripping jamminess of the rose, helping to keep those other notes in check. Once the fig fades away at the 30-minute mark, Amber Aoud turns even sweeter and richer. The patchouli-rose seems to take over, quite overshadowing the oud on my skin and not even the increasingly smoky touches of the birch can cut through the perfume’s ruby sweetness.

Amber Aoud is quite concentrated in feel, but not as much as other Roja Dove Extraits that I have tried. In fact, I’m a little surprised by how soft the projection is, right off the bat. Two really large sprays from my atomizer (amounting to one extremely big spray from a bottle) yielded only 2 inches in projection, at best. In contrast, similar amounts of Diaghilev, Fetish, and Enigma or Creation-E all had stronger sillage at a comparable stage in time. Actually, I didn’t spray Diaghilev at all but merely dabbed it on, and, yet, I remember it to be substantially stronger in both feel and projection. In addition, all of those fragrances took far longer to turn discreet. Amber Aoud hovers a mere inch above the skin at the end of the first hour; it turns into a skin scent 3.25 hours into the perfume’s development, though it’s still easy to detect up close.

Source: RGPeixoto on Flickr. (Website link embedded within photo.)

Amber Aoud’s core essence doesn’t change for a few hours, but the notes rearrange themselves in terms of their strength, prominence, or order. After the fig fades away at the 30-minute mark, the primary bouquet is a jammy patchouli rose with saffron and light oud, all flecked with birch and nestled in a soft, golden haze. The birch turns smokier and slightly tarred in feel at the start of the second hour, losing its more woody facets in favour of a subtle leatheriness. The rose becomes even richer and more syrupy, but the saffron begins to weaken. At no point do I smell any civet, oakmoss, jasmine or ylang-ylang on my skin.

Source: voguefabricsstore.com

The most noticeable change is a growing creaminess underlying the scent. 2.25 hours in, the sandalwood rises from the base, though it smells nothing like the Mysore wood and is generally just creamy smoothness. Actually, I detect a subtle vanillic undertone to it, though I can’t explain it. The birch now joins the jammy rose and the oud as the dominant trio, while the saffron limps off to the sidelines. Amber Aoud feels much airier and lighter than it was at the start, and it lies right on the skin.

Source: voguefabricsstore.com

3.5 hours into Amber Aoud’s development, the perfume shifts. The rose loses a lot of its patchouli jamminess, turning into an infinitely soft, sweet, pink note with only light touches of smoky birch and oud over an extremely creamy base. I refuse to call it actual “sandalwood,” but it’s lovely, especially with the tiny slivers of vanilla. None of it feels ambered in a distinct way, but there is a gentle glow around the rose petals that increasingly coat the skin like a layer of fine silk.

Source: wholeblossoms.com

Amber Aoud remains that way for the next few hours, softening further until it’s primarily just a creamy, sweet rose scent. The petals are dusted with the lightest, sheerest layer of powder, presumably from the orris/iris, while a lingering trace of oud hovers at the edges. There is no birch — either tarry or smoky — and no muskiness, only a general sense of creamy softness. Again, I’m not a rose lover, but I’d almost call the overall effect “graceful.” Something about Amber Aoud’s final drydown really evokes pink and cream petals falling from the sky to softly, gently, daintily land on the skin. It’s all a gauzy wisp, and it fades away entirely in a blur of rosiness approximately 8.75 hours from the start.

Source: amideastfeast.com

Reviews are mixed for Amber Aoud on Fragrantica. Some people share my feeling that the perfume is neither particularly ambered nor unique, and one person also thinks that it is encumbered by that jammy fruitchouli, but others think it is stunning and wonderfully luxurious. First, some of the more ambivalent or critical opinions:

I was pretty unimpressed by this one. I love Roja Dove Aoud, so I had high hopes for Amber Aoud. The opening smells to me like concord grape jelly smeared on a slice of oud. The overwhelming sweetness dries down after about half an hour and it’s a very nice smooth oud, but I get no amber in this. Also, longevity on me was terrible, maybe 3 or 4 hours tops. My husband liked it, but was surprised when I told him it had oud in it.

I’d say that this to me is much more a Rose Aoud than a properly Amber Aoud. It doesn’t have the thick, vanillic and incense aura that you would expect from a classic Amber approach, and it also doesn’t have the woody, light, sometimes plastic modern aura that you get from woody ambery bases. Leaving this aside, this is a good, silky and rich aoud and rose orchestration, surrounded by a velvet suedish touch which lingers discretly on skin. Altough the fragrance seems to be more complex, it relies basically around these three facets, creating an harmony which is very pleasant to be noticed all day. It has a great longevity, a small sample lasted all day on me, and while i see a lot of quality on here, it seems to me very safe, something made for the one which is willing to pay for quality and wants and oud rose orchestration which softens the rough aspects of this noble wood. It’s at least worth a sample.

This fragrance is very nice, but its a traditional oud for almost £500, its not worth it. maybe if you are not custom to the smell of this type of warm musky oud you might find it unique. but for those from middle eastern backgrounds, you have smelt this many times before, some Mosques and Arab book/perfume shops smell similar to this fragrance, of course this is much much higher quality, you can definelty smell the quality of the ingredients , but its that type of traditional oud smell that you would smell often if you visited an Arab country. a disappointment for me I am afraid for the price[….]

Photo: my own.

On the other side of the aisle are the fans who think very little can compare to the luxuriousness of Amber Aoud. Some excerpts:

A very clean oud with a smooth and well rounded amber. From the moment I sampled this fragrance, I knew that I would do what it took to obtain a bottle. Even if it meant saving and making this my #1 priority, I just had to have it. This fragrance smells of incredible and undeniable quality. If you have ever smelled Krigler “Oud for Highness” you would agree that these two share similar qualities being that the scent is so royal, rich, and luxurious. I am at a loss for words on how to accurately describe how divine this fragrance is.

Sensual,noble,velvety feel almost physically,my most favorite perfume,very expensive,but everything is expensive for this work

This is a royal oud blend! Honestly speaking! Royalty in a bottle!

Its very rich,very luxurious, super smooth. […][¶] until now I thought the best aoud could come only from the Gulf. I think aoud can not get better than this one. It’s so well blended. […][¶] I tried several other aoud and aoud combo perfumes and attars at Paris gallary and elsewhere at Dubai mall but everything else looked pale in comparison. [¶] Who can wear this and where? I think the sheer opulence of this scent demands an occasion and
formal dress.

Honestly, I agree with arguments from both sides. Amber Aoud is a luxurious take on a very traditional scent; it isn’t original (how can it be?); the quality does stand out; it does have a much stronger focus on rose than on amber; and there is an almost grape-like, jammy fruitedness that will be annoying for anyone who shares my loathing for fruitchouli. Yes, it is very expensive (more expensive than a number of Roja Dove scents, in fact), but the simple fact is that you’re paying for the Roja Dove name and the perfume’s quality.

Whether all of that amounts to a fragrance that is a “must try” or worth buying will really come down to your personal, subjective valuation and tastes. If you absolutely adore rich rose scents that have only the softest touch of a very refined, clean, smooth oud, then you may want to give Amber Aoud a sniff.

DETAILS:

Cost & Availability: Amber Aoud Pure Parfum or Extrait is available in two size: a 30 ml/1 oz size which costs $435, €395 or £345; and a 100 ml size which costs $655, €655, or £495. There are also Crystal or Absolue Precieux versions available, along a candle. As a side note, I believe the Crystal version is the exact same scent as regular Amber Aoud, but merely with clear or white-coloured liquid. In the U.S.: Neiman Marcus carries Amber Aoud in both the small size and the big $655 bottle. Bergdorf Goodman also has the small and big sizes. Same story with Osswald NYC. Outside the U.S.: In the UK, you can buy Amber Aoud from Roja Dove’s Haute Parfumerie on the 5th Floor of Harrods, Harrods itself, the e-store at Roja Parfums, and Fortnum & Mason. In France, Jovoy in Paris carries Amber Aoud in both sizes. Zurich’s Osswald has Amber Aoud as well, but it doesn’t look as though they have an e-store. In the UAE, the Paris Gallery carries the Roja Parfums line, and sells both sizes. For all other locations, you can use the Roja Dove Locations listing which mentions more stores from Poland to Germany, Lithuania, Russia, and the Ukraine. I don’t see any Canadian, Asian, or Oceania vendors. Samples: If you’re in the U.S. but have no access to one of the stores listed above, you can order samples by phone from OsswaldNY. They offer a deal of 10 samples for $20 (shipping included) for domestic customers. Their phone number is: (212) 625-3111. Surrender to Chance does not carry the fragrance at this time.