Perfume Review- Dior Vetiver (La Collection Privée)

Posted on May 17, 2013 by Kafkaesque

There are few things more terrifying to a perfumista than the word “discontinuation.” The threat of a perfume being discontinued is bad enough, but the actual thing? Ghastly. So, yesterday, when I heard that Dior was discontinuing Vetiver, I hurriedly dug up my sample to test it out. I found parts of it to be very elegant, but some of it to be less than my personal cup of tea.

Vetiver is (or was) part of Dior‘s prestige La Collection Privée line of perfumes (which is sometimes called La Collection Couturier on places like Fragrantica and Surrender to Chance). I will go with the name used by Dior itself on its website. The Privée line consists of fourteen perfumes that are exclusive to Dior boutiques (only one in the US, in Las Vegas) and to its website. Vetiver was added to the line in 2010 and, from what I’ve heard, is one of the biggest sellers in the Privée line. Like the rest of its siblings, Vetiver was intended to illustrate and celebrate the life of its founder, Christian Dior, and was created by François Demarchy, the artistic director and nose for Parfums Dior.

Dior describes Vetiver in the context of its founder’s personal style:

Mr. Dior had a particular sense of elegance and dandyism. Inspired by this sophisticated and timelessly chic style, François Demachy has created a powerful, intense and raw Vetiver fragrance. A masculine raw material par excellence, Vetiver makes up more than one third of the fragrance and is combined with Coffee, a round, slightly bitter, roasted note, creating an unusual aromatic blend.” The woody aromatic features notes of grapefruit, coffee and vetiver.

The notes for the fragrance, according to Dior, are simple:

Top: Sicilian Grapefruit.

Middle: South American Robusta Coffee.

Base: Haitian Vetiver.

Vetiver opens on my skin with sweet, slightly smoky, peppered vetiver and big wallops of ISO E Super. For those unfamiliar with the aroma-chemical, you can read my full description of its pros and cons here. In a nutshell, though, it is used most frequently for two reasons: 1) as a super-floralizer which is added to expand and magnify many floral notes, along with their longevity; and 2) to amplify woody notes and add a velvety touch to the base. It seems to be particularly used in fragrances that have vetiver, with Lalique‘s L’Encre Noire being just one of the many examples. ISO E Super always smells extremely peppery and, in large doses, has an undertone that is like that of rubbing alcohol, is medicinal, and/or astringent. Some people are completely anosmic to the synthetic, while a handful of people get extreme headaches from it. I’m not one of the latter, but I cannot stand the note in large quantities and I can detect that peppered element with its rubbing alcohol base a mile away.

In the case of Vetiver, it’s hard to miss the ISO E Super because the synthetic is pronounced from the start and continues for much of the perfume’s lifespan. Hidden behind its solid wall are flickers of the grapefruit which feels zesty, fresh and light, but also yellow and sweet. Subtle whiffs of dark, wet coffee grinds underscore some of the vetiver’s earthy qualities. As a whole, however, this is not a smoky, dark, rooty vetiver fragrance. Instead, it feels much brighter, crisper and lighter than many of its compatriots out there.

Five minutes in, the rubbing alcohol base of the ISO E Super softens a little, leaving more peppery notes at the top. The coffee note fades almost completely, along with much of that initial dark twist to the notes. The perfume is sweet, lightly smoky, lightly citric, and sprinkled with huge amounts of that aromachemical’s pepper. At the base is a “woody hum” — as Luca Turin once characterized the synthetic and its constant presence in Ormonde Jayne perfumes — which continues for hours. To my surprise, Vetiver gave me a headache — and that rarely happens, even from ISO E Super.

The dapper Dior on the cover of the biography by Marie-France Pochna

There really isn’t much more to say about Vetiver’s evolution. It is primarily sweet, crisp vetiver with pepperiness and a lightly smoky touch that eventually turns woodier. About four hours in, the ISO E Super adds a velvety feel to the woody notes and Vetiver takes on a creamy smoothness that feels quite luxurious, despite its lightness. And, thanks to its mild sweetness, the perfume actually does evoke a little of Christian Dior’s dandyism, while always remaining sophisticated, assured, and elegant. It’s not a dark, earthy, rooty scent but more of a dapper, suave one, if that makes sense. It also feels more bright and green-yellow, than something dark and smoldering. In its final hours, Vetiver turns into a simple woody fragrance with a subtle touch of musk.

Throughout the perfume’s development, the sillage was generally moderate and the longevity excellent. Vetiver’s projection isn’t huge and loud, but rather, more discreet and well-mannered. The longevity is, however, surprised me. To my disbelief, this airy, seemingly light Vetiver lasted almost 10.5 hours on my perfume-consuming skin.

I am not hugely familiar with all the vetiver fragrances out there, so it won’t be easy for me to do a comparison. Based upon my memory of Guerlain‘s (vintage) Vetiver, the benchmark classic is significantly more complex, nuanced, spicy and … well, fabulous. It’s rich, layered, and deeper. Dior’s take seems intended to be a minimalistic treatment of the note, so one can hardly fault it for a job well done. It is also much lighter, in every way possible, especially in texture and feel. If it helps, you can read Bois de Jasmin‘s comparison of the two scent here. Her bottom line summation, however, is this:

If Vétiver de Guerlain did not exist, Dior Vétiver would have been close to my ideal vetiver fragrance. It is a very good quality vetiver, and I enjoy wearing it. However, there is no surprise in it, no novelty, especially when we have so many interesting and unusual woody fragrances available, both in the prestige and the niche lines. It is pleasant, but to me, nonessential. By contrast, I cannot imagine my perfume wardrobe without Vétiver de Guerlain.

In terms of comparisons to Chanel‘s Sycomore, the two fragrances are nothing alike. Sycomore is a truly mighty, intense vetiver: all darkness with mysterious smoke, earthiness and serious woods that turn into creamy sandalwood. Complete polar opposites. Where Dior’s Vetiver evokes bright greens with a dapper touch, Sycomore evokes mysterious dark woods, earthy loamy soil, rootiness, and smoke. Dior feels like a scent that Roger Sterling from Mad Men would wear. Actually, no, Christian Bale’s “Bruce Wayne” would wear it with one of his perfect suits to a social luncheon. In contrast, the Dark Knight would wear Sycomore.

There is an enormous amount of love for Dior’s Vetiver out there. On Fragrantica, people rave about how it’s a minimalistic classic that is an essential staple for their perfume collection. One actually confesses, with some reluctance, that it may actually be superior to his beloved Guerlain Vetiver. The most interesting comment, to me, was from a commentator who said that the Dior was fantastic for layering under other scents. And, you know, I think he’s absolutely right. Dior’s Vetiver is sufficiently crisp, fresh, bright and green that it really would be the perfect vetiver base. I can’t see one using the super-complex Sycomore as a base layer, or the Guerlain, but Dior’s minimalism and purer vetiver essence would definitely work.

As a side note, I think Dior’s Vetiver could easily be worn by women who love the note. It is not a shriekingly masculine scent by any means, and seems quite unisex to me. I think it’s due to the subtle sweetness underlying the bright green vetiver. Thanks to the yellow grapefruit and the lack of spices or tobacco, the perfume also feels much brighter and fresher, less dry. In contrast, I think the Guerlain or Chanel fragrances are much more masculine in nature.

If you want to order Vetiver, there are still bottles available online and, for US readers, at the Dior boutique in Las Vegas. You can read about the exact number remaining at the Las Vegas boutique (as of 5/16/13) here. Generally, Dior’s bottles are super-sized, but the price is incredibly affordable per ounce. The smallest bottle clocks in at 4.25 fl oz/125 ml, and costs $155. Dior’s largest bottle is an enormous 8.5 fl. oz/450 ml which costs $230, which comes to approximately $27 an ounce. It’s a fantastic price per ounce (though it’s also enough ounces to practically bathe in).

All in all, I thought Dior’s Vetiver was very pleasant. I will be honest and say that I would have been far more enthusiastic had it not been for my hatred for ISO E Super in large amounts. But since the majority of people only read the note as a general impression of sharp “pepperiness,” I wouldn’t worry about it at all if I were you. I think Vetiver is incredibly elegant, versatile, and, perhaps more importantly, wearable on a daily basis. It has fantastic longevity and, though it may be minimalistic in nature, you can turn that to your advantage by layering it with other fragrances. If you’re a vetiver lover, I would definitely try to get your hands on it before it’s completely gone and the prices on eBay skyrocket through the roof.

DETAILS:

For a brief while, until it runs out, Vetiver is available exclusively at Dior boutiques or on Dior online. However, since it is soon being discontinued, those who want to get the few bottles that may remain should call any Dior boutique directly and buy it over the phone. In the US, it is sold only at Dior’s Las Vegas store [(702) 369-6072]. I would also try to call this Dior number — (702) 734-1102 — and ask for Karina Lake, the Dior Beauty Stylist at the Las Vegas store. She will be in special Dior training sessions until 5/20/13 but, if you can get a hold of her before then, she is an amazingly sweet lady who will give you a free 5 ml mini bottle of the Dior perfume of your choice, along with 3-4 small 1 ml dab vial sample bottles. Even better, you will get free shipping and pay no tax! Tell her Kafka sent you. As noted above, the perfume comes in two sizes: the 4.25 fl oz/125 ml costs $155, while the 8.5 fl oz/250 ml costs $230. Though New York’s Bergdorf Goodman and San Francisco’s Neiman Marcus carry some of the Dior Privée line collection of perfumes, they don’t carry all of them because I think they rotate 6 at a time. I highly doubt they have Vetiver, given the discontinuation issue.

Outside of the US: you can use the Points of Sale page on the Dior website to find a location for a Dior store near you. You can also navigate the Dior website’s International section to buy the perfume online. The problem is that the site is not very straight-forward. If you go to this page, look at the very far right to the bottom where it will say, in black, “International Version” and click on that. You should see options for Europe, Asia-Oceana, and South America. Within Europe, there are different sub-sites divided by country. The Dior boutique closest to you should have some Vetiver bottles still available for sale.

Samples: If you want to give Vetiver a sniff, samples are available at Surrender to Chance where prices start at $3.00 for a 1 ml vial. If you’re interested in trying the whole Privée line, Surrender to Chance sells all 13 fragrances (minus the new Gris Montaigne) in a sampler set for $35.99.

Perfume Review – Parfum d’Empire Ambre Russe: Old Mother Russia

Posted on May 16, 2013 by Kafkaesque

St. Basil’s Cathedral. Source: Tripthirsty.com

It was a cold Spring, that April in 1986, when I went behind the Iron Curtain and visited the Soviet Union. Snow still lingered in parts of Moscow and the rural countryside that my group visited. I remember the grimness of Moscow, and have crazy stories about my time there: from our Russian minders; to the bugs in the telephone at the vast hotel where we stayed (either the Hotel Ukraina or the Cosmos) in Moscow; to stomping through birch forests to use a medieval, wooden out-house; and how I was interviewed on camera in the lobby for a news piece about the recent U.S.-Russian ballistic nuclear arms treaty. They quickly yanked and cut that interview when the journalist discovered I wasn’t just some mindless, young tourist who would babble about the glories of peaceful Mother Russia. To his unmitigated horror, I answered his question by giving a concise, Cold War breakdown of the history of nuclear arms talks and treaties between the U.S. and the U.S.S.R. going back to the 1960s. His dirty looks followed me all across the giant lobby as I left….

Kiev in the 1980s. Source: Englishrussia.com. For the full post on great colour photographs of Russian cities from 1968-1984, click on the photo. Link embedded within.

My group ended up being kicked out of the Soviet Union after someone on it was caught engaging in black market dealings and a few other transgressions. (Not me!) It was probably just as well since we were in Kiev at the time and, as I mentioned, it was April 1986. Kiev, for those of you who don’t know, is in the Ukraine, and less than an hour’s drive from Chernobyl where the worst nuclear reactor disaster in history occurred only a few days later. We would have been there, but, instead, I was back in Paris when news of the disaster hit. The prevailing winds drew most of the radioactive fall-out away from the city, but my mother was still relieved that we left earlier than planned, even if it was under less than glorious circumstances.

Dormition Cathedral. Source: www.ruskerealie.zcu.cz

Though I went to the Soviet Union, I saw enough of old Russia during my time there, from the magnificent old churches to the palaces. It is always Vladimir, however, which comes instantly to mind when I think of that trip. It was one of the ancient capitals of medieval Russia, and two of its cathedrals are now World Heritage sites. The solemn grandeur of those enormous, dark, often candle-lit churches — and Dormition Cathedral, in particular — with their huge walls covered in icons, painted figures and gold is something I will never forget. It instantly took me back in time to the Russia of Rasputin and Catherine the Great.

Dormition Cathedral in Vladimir. Photo by O1e9. Source: Flickr

In a way, so too does Ambre Russe by Marc-Antoine Corticchiato, the founder and nose behind Parfum d’Empire. Well, it takes me back to Russia, though it’s more to a tea room filled with large samovars and smoke as people lounge on velvet or leather sofas and knock back drinks over plates of sweetened fruits. But it’s certainly more than I expected. Unfortunately, the perfume was also significantly less than I expected. It didn’t live up to its wonderful opening and that trip back in time; it was too sheer, light and airy to be the true molten, luxurious, opaque marvel of Rasputin’s boozy, intense, dark, opulent Russia. However, those who prefer more lightweight, airy approaches to their booze and amber Orientals, may enjoy Ambre Russe very much indeed.

I don’t think any perfume house has better stories or descriptions to accompany their fragrances than Parfum d’Empire, and Ambre Russe is no exception:

An opulent elixir, as passionate as the Slavic soul. In this intense elixir, the opulence of the Russian Empire is conjured by the golden warmth of ambergris, intensified by vibrant spices, the smoky aroma of Russian tea and the spirituality of incense. Ambre Russe, a fragrance for impassioned souls. […]

In the flamboyant world of Ambre Russe, nothing is done in half-measures: parties are as intoxicating and sparkling as the champagne that flowed in Imperial Russia but they can end in the white brutality of an icy shot of vodka.

Ambre Russe also conjures the warmth and comfort of dachas where Russian tea, laced with cinnamon and coriander, is brewed all day long in samovars. It’s slightly smoky aroma melds with those of the birch and juniper tar rubbed into the legendary Russian leather. At last the golden facets of Ambre Russe are burnished by the incense of the Orthodox Church, before melting into a cloud of musk. And the celebration ends in mystic ecstasy. Ambre Russe: as impassioned and uncompromising as the Slavic soul..

I don’t know who writes Parfum d’Empire’s descriptions, but I want to meet him or her, and bow down in awe. As for the perfume notes, Luckyscent offers the following:

tea, incense, vodka, champagne, cumin, coriander, cinnamon, ambergris, vanilla, leather.

The Russian Tea Room, with an iced Russian bear & vodka display. Source: Therussiantearoomnyc.com

Ambre Russe opens on my skin with so much depth, complexity and nuance that I couldn’t stop sniffing my arm. The very first thing you detect is citrus note like that in really good champagne. It is light, fresh, fruity-sweet, and absolutely sparkling. It is followed by a “chaser” of vodka and spices. The alcoholic blast is accompanied by: treacly cardamom; slightly woody-citrusy coriander; endlessly spiced, rich honey, the slightly tarry aspects of the birch tree; browned, aged leather; and, finally, rich ambergris. The amber, honey and boozy sweet notes combine with the tarry, leathery undertones of the birch to create a note of tobacco. Rich, warm and just like that in fruited pipe tobacco.

Despite those many notes, it is truly the intense booziness of the scent, combined with the plethora of spices, which dominates those opening minutes. It feels a lot like the opening to my beloved Alahine, though the latter lacks some of the leather and tobacco undertones that are here. Ambre Russe also has a significantly drier feel to it, along with a faintly bitter, smoky edge and black tea notes that truly conjure up a Russian samovar. And, as the clock ticks by, Ambre Russe becomes even drier, woodier, dustier, and smokier. Hints of cumin appear, though they never evoke curry, stale sweat, or body odour. Instead, the cumin feels much like the dry, dusty powder. Unless you are a truly extreme cumin-phobe, I wouldn’t worry; the cumin is so minute and fleeting a note in Ambre Russe that I don’t think most people would detect it, especially given the extreme booziness of the scent.

Source: Orangette.blogspot.com (Website link embedded within. Click on the photo.)

Speaking of which, the champagne note slowly turns more into that of spiced rum, accompanied by the vast amounts of dried, stewed fruit that are a large part of the perfume’s base. The fruits feel like rum-raisin and stewed prunes, but there is also a surprising amount of stewed oranges to the note, thanks to the champagne. At times, the combination feels closer to fruity champagne, while, at other times, its more like simple, rich, spiced fruit. It flickers back and forth, but the truly odd thing about it is just how damn light, airy and sheer it feels. For a perfume with such strong notes, especially in the beginning, Ambre Russe is surprisingly lightweight in feel.

Hermès saddle. Source: eBay.com

The swirl of dusty spices and fruit sit atop a subtle leather note. It feels honeyed, aged, and rich — much like the old, burnished, and oiled leather riding saddle that I once had. There is a faint powderiness that also appears, but it is generally well hidden under the warm smoke from the incense, the equally smoky black tea, and the strong hints of pipe tobacco.

You almost feel as if you’re in an old Russian tea-room in Kiev. The ceilings are a little black from decades of smoke, old icons cover the wall, birch trees logs are tossed into the fireplace, and the bells from a medieval cathedral chime in the background. As you collapse into the comfortable, soft leather banquets, a server puts champagne flutes on the table, next to strong black tea from the Samovar that is infused with massive dollops of cinnamon-honey. Stewed fruit are the only thing to save your stomach, as you ponder the baffling question of why a tea room is filled with sacks of dry, slightly dusty spices.

About 90 minutes in, Ambre Russe turns into a cinnamon-flecked amber perfume with incense smoke. Yes, there are undertones of honey, leather, tobacco, birch, and stewed fruit but they are light and grow increasingly subtle. To be honest, after that glorious opening and particularly after the second hour, Ambre Russe settles into little more than a light, cinnamon, boozy amber on my skin, and remains that way until the very end.

It is also incredibly — and, for my personal tastes, disappointingly — sheer. As early as the thirty minute mark, Ambre Russe starts to get sheerer and softer until, midway in the fourth hour, it feels as gauzily transparent as a thin, ambered kleenex. On my skin, the overall development of Ambre Russe was fully in the mold of a Jean-Claude Ellena fragrance — and I do not mean that as a compliment. In fact, there are quite a few tonal similarities between Ambre Russe and Ambre Narguilé, especially given the boozy rum, smoke, pipe tobacco, and stewed fruit notes. But, ultimately, Ambre Russe is significantly drier, woodier, and more dustily spiced. It also does not tip-toe up to the edges of the gourmand category in the way that Ambre Narguilé does.

Sillage and longevity also differ. In the first 20 minutes, Ambre Russe had good to average sillage, but after that, it projects little and its insubstantial weight turns the perfume into a skin scent surprisingly quickly. I tried it twice and, on both occasions, Ambre Russe turned into amber kleenex on my skin before the end of 2nd hour. (Far before Ambre Narguilé did on my skin.) Thereafter, Ambre Russe remained as dry, dusty spices and smoke over the lightest possible boozy amber base. That’s truly about it. However, Amber Russe has surprisingly longevity and lasted approximately 11 hours on both occasions on my perfume-consuming skin. At the end of the day, though, I found it to be an anorexic scent with little body and overall depth in the long haul.

I realise that not everyone shares my love for opaque, thick, molten perfumes, but that isn’t the real issue here, in my opinion. It’s that Ambre Russe’s beautiful, skeletal structure is there, but without the depth, complexity and nuance of its early start. It feels like a Lite or Diet version of a true, boozy, spiced amber. That said, those who prefer lighter, sheerer ambers may find Ambre Russe to be a perfect compromise, especially in light of some of the spices. Its lack of sillage, but serious longevity, may also make it perfect for those who worry about wearing serious orientals to a conservative office-environment.

I should note that I seem to be in the minority on the issue of Ambre Russe being far too thin. Take, for example, Luca Turin‘s admiring, four-star review in Perfumes: The A-Z Guide in which he writes:

Ambre Russe is quite simply the biggest, most over-the-top, most expansive, most nutritious amber in existence. If there was a cross between pipe tobacco and pain d’épices, this would be it. To call this an oriental is like saying that Nicholas II was no genius.

Notwithstanding that incredibly amusing last line, I couldn’t disagree more on the “nutritious,” expansive nature of Ambre Russe. But then, I rarely seem to agree with His Majesty….

There is a lot of love for Ambre Russe out there, along with a few polar opposite reactions. Perhaps the funniest (and my favorite) description for the perfume comes from Patty at The Perfume Posse who writes:

This amber rolls in fueled by vodka and lust after a handful of Exstasy and Coke hit the pleasure palace center of the brain, and you settle in for the long night partying in Kiev. As the morning light reveals the detritus of the night’s Pan-like revelry, you find yourself deep in conversation with a beautiful/handsome poet who talks about life and love as an art form, and the amber turns to beautiful glowing warmth, glad for human comfort and conversation. If only you could find your clothes, car and dignity, this would have been a great night.

Absolutely fantastic! Another favorite comes from Fragrantica where “Espi” writes:

Wearing Ambre Russe is like sitting next to a drunk but very attractive Russian sailor in a nice and comfortable pub. The only thing I don’t really get is why he’s got spiced honey smeared all over his body! 🙂 Quite the intoxicating smell [….]

Others talk about leather armchairs, expensive cognac, cigars, and old-world, sophisticated opulence. On Luckyscent, more than a few have given descriptions similar in spirit to this one from “yonderblues” who writes about “a room lit by candles filled with ladies in brocade dresses, surrounded by chavalier in their tall leather boots, sabers slapping their thighs and the scent of tobacco trailing after them.” I personally think these descriptions would be more apt if Ambre Russe were not quite so lightweight and gauzy since that completely destroys any sense of “opulence” in my mind, but, again, I have very different standards and personal tastes.

The main objection by those who hate Ambre Russe is the booziness. On both Fragrantica and Luckyscent, the negative reviews seem to center upon the opinion that there is just too much damn alcohol and vodka in the perfume. A handful of those commentators state that they don’t drink and don’t want to smell as though they do (“I hate vodka. I don’t drink.”) which is an extremely valid consideration. I honestly don’t think the vodka is that strong, especially after the first 15 minutes, and thought the fruity champagne note was much more pronounced, but, clearly, it’s all still too much alcohol for some people. As with everything in perfumery, interpretations are subjective and depend on your personal tastes, preferences, and history.

All in all, if the notes sound appealing to you, and if you love very dry, boozy, spiced amber Orientals, I would definitely give Ambre Russe a sniff. Those who are completely phobic about cumin — in even its mildest, most microscopic manifestions — may think that the perfume smells like “Rasputin’s armpit” (to quote one commentator at the Perfume Posse), but I don’t think most people will. It’s a very pretty spiced amber, and I think it’s extremely evocative of Old Mother Russia.

DETAILS:

Cost & Availability: Ambre Russe is an eau de parfum and is available on Parfum d’Empire’s website where it costs €92 for a large 3.4 oz/100 ml bottle. In the U.S., you can also find it at Luckyscent which sells the smaller bottle in a 1.7 oz/50 ml size for $75 and the larger 3.4 oz bottle for $110, in addition to a sample for $3. MinNewYork sells that same small 50 ml bottle for $100. Canada’s The Perfume Shoppe sells the large 3.4 oz bottle for $110 but you should contact them for the Canadian price. (The Perfume Shoppe website always confuses me a little.) In Europe, First in Fragrance sells the large 3.4 oz bottle of Ambre Russe for €115, along with samples. In Australia, Libertine carries a few of the Parfum d’Empire line, but not Ambre Russe. For all other countries, you can find a retailer near you using the Store Locator on Parfum d’Empire’s website. To test Ambre Russe for yourself, Surrender to Chance sells samples starting at $3.49 for a 1 ml vial. Parfum d’Empire also offers two different sample sets directly from its own website. The first Mini Sample Set is for 3 fragrances of your choice in 2 ml vials for €6 or €10 (depending on your location) with free shipping, while the Full Sample Set of all 13 Parfum d’Empire fragrances also is for 2 ml vials with free shipping and costs €14 or €22 (for the EU or the rest of the world).

Perfume News: Dior Discontinues Mitzah & Vetiver (La Collection Privée)

Posted on May 15, 2013 by Kafkaesque

There has been endless talk on the internet about the situation with Dior’s beloved Mitzah from the Privee line (also known as La Collection Couturier). Three months ago, I spoke with the head Dior Sales Assistant at the Las Vegas boutique, Karina, who had just returned from a training session in Paris. She told me that Mitzah was not being discontinued. She asked Paris for me, again, and they said no, it was not being discontinued.

Karina just called me from Las Vegas, and told me that the company has officially decided to continue Mitzah. They had thought about discontinuing Grand Bal, but ended up opting for Mitzah instead. Just as shocking, they are also going to discontinue one of their biggest sellers from La Privée line: Vetiver. Someone from Paris has come to the Las Vegas store for a training session (pertaining, in part, to Gris Montaigne, the big new hit for the Privée line), and brought with them the official news of the company’s decision. Vetiver (which I reviewed here) is apparently one of the most popular Privée perfumes, so Karina has absolutely no explanation for its discontinuation.

You can order both perfumes from the Dior website, but I would honestly just call Karina at the Las Vegas boutique. Her direct number is (702) 734-1102 and her full name is Karina Lake. She will give you a free 5 ml mini bottle of the Dior perfume of your choice, along with 3 small 1 ml dab vial sample bottles. (Tell her the blogger, Kafka, sent you and she may throw in a few more.) By ordering from the store, you will get free shipping and pay no tax! But she may be busy with that Dior training with the Paris adviser for the next few days, so I have the general store number below.

Mitzah comes in two sizes: the 4.25 fl oz/125 ml costs $155, while the 8.5 fl oz/250 ml costs $230. I specifically asked how many bottles were left of each fragrance. This is what I was told:

Mitzah: 12 bottles of the Small size; 10 bottles of the Big.

Vetiver: 8 Small bottles; and 8 of the Big.

And that’s it for the one Dior boutique in all of the U.S. Of course, you can still order from Dior online, but Karina isn’t sure what their stock is like or how much longer they will still have bottles.

I’m pretty stunned by the news. My hands are shaking a little as I type this. Actually, I think Karina is even more stunned than I am. She said they told her, and confirmed with a straight face, three months ago that Mitzah would absolutely remain. She kept hearing rumours, but discounted it, especially after her trip to Paris. Whatever led to the company’s decision, those who love either fragrance should buy it now because the prices will skyrocket on places like eBay. Those of you who have been undecided on Mitzah can read my review of it, or order samples quickly from Surrender to Chance while you decide. But I would do it soon. If you love labdanum and incense, if you’re a fan of perfumes in the mold of Chanel’s Coromandel, then I think you’d love Mitzah. Unfortunately for us, Dior doesn’t seem to share our passion for it.

Perfume Giveaway: Puredistance WINNERS!

Posted on May 14, 2013 by Kafkaesque

The Puredistance Giveaway has ended, and I have the names of the ten winners!

TO SUMMARIZE THE GIVEAWAY:

A satin bag containing one (1) sample spray vial of Puredistance M, and one (1) sample spray of Puredistance Opardu. Ten (10) people will each get ONE (1) satin bag containing one 2 ml vial of “M” and one 2 ml vial of “Opardu.” The giveaway was open to anyone who follows the blog and lasted one week. I used Random.Org to choose the ten winners who are…….

THE WINNERS ARE:

 1st: Yulina
 2nd: Undina
 3rd: Debbie Baylor
 4th: Cacomixtle
 5th: Gabriel
 6th: Elsa
 7th: I-Ryan
 8th: Emma
 9th: Cookie Queen
10th: Lewis Nesbitt

I thought Random.org would send me a cool little photo thing of the generated list for me to show you, but it doesn’t, so you shall have to settle for this:

WRITE TO ME!

Please contact me with your address so that I can forward it on to Puredistance in the Netherlands. Email me at AKafkaesqueLife @ Gmail dot Com (all one word, squished together and with a period in place of the “dot.”) You have THREE DAYS until Friday, May 17th, 2013 at 11:59 p.m. Central Standard Time (CST) in the U.S. (which is -6:00 GMT -Greenwich Mean Time). If I don’t hear back in time from one of the winners, their prize will go to the next person on the list.

PLEASE DON’T FORGET THE PHOTO:

Please do not forget Puredistance’s one small request to each winner upon receiving their prize:

1) take a nice (creative) photo of his/her satin pouch and spray vials, and post that photo on either your Facebook status or on Twitter; *AND*
2) tag Puredistance at the same time. (ie, @Puredistance on Facebook, or #Puredistance on Twitter.)

Obviously, there is no way to check if you have or have not, so we’re going by the Honour System here. 🙂 But it’s a tiny request from a wonderful perfume house that not a lot of people know about, so I think it would be nice to get the word out, don’t you?

SHIPPING:

Puredistance is paying for all the shipping and they will ship directly to all the winners. Given that Puredistance is located in the Netherlands, it may take some time (up to 10-14 days depending on when you sent me your address, your location, and Customs processing) for you to receive your sample bag. (It may take a little longer if your country has stringent customs issues and/or you’re far outside Europe.) Neither Puredistance nor I am responsible for items that are destroyed by customs or that are lost in transit for some reason.

LAST WORDS:

Once again, I’d like to express my enormous gratitude and thanks to Puredistance for choosing my blog for their giveaway. Their generosity, kindness and thoughtfulness in also offering so many bags is absolutely incredible. And to the winners, I hope you enjoy the perfumes!