Perfume Review: Dries Van Noten Par Frederic Malle

Snickerdoodles! That, in a nutshell, is the essence of the new perfume, Dries Van Noten par Frederic Malle (often shortened to just “Dries Van Noten”), from the the luxury fragrance house Editions de Parfums Frederic Malle. It is one of the most respected haute-niche lines in the world and was founded in 2000 by Frederic Malle, a man who has luxury perfume in his blood. His grandfather founded Christian Dior Perfumes, and his mother later worked as an Art Director for the same perfume house. 

Dries Van Noten (left) with Frederic Malle (right).

Dries Van Noten (left) with Frederic Malle (right).

Recently, Mr. Malle decided to shift his focus from collaborating with perfumers to working with fashion designers. The first designer he chose for this new line would be Dries Van Noten whose eponymous fragrance was created by Bruno Jovanovic and released in early March 2013. According to Grain de Musc, the perfume is Malle’s own loose interpretation of Dries Van Noten’s aesthetic and not the designer’s own creation as rendered by Bruno Jovanovic. In other words, inspired by — not “made by” — Dries Van Noten. The Frederic Malle website supports that conclusion in its concise description of the scent:

Small sized bottle of Dries Van Noten par Frederic Malle.

Small sized bottle of Dries Van Noten par Frederic Malle.

A perfume built around natural sandalwood, chosen for its softness and its character, and the fact that it is simultaneously exotic and evocative of the tradition of great classic perfumes. This very short formula made of very precious materials, generates a sober but distinct sensuality. It is, in my eyes, a fair parallel to Dries van Noten’s world.

Fragrantica categorizes Dries Van Noten Par Frederic Malle as a woody Oriental and lists its notes as follows:

sandalwood, guaiac wood, tonka bean, vanilla, saffron, jasmine, musk, bergamot, lemon, nutmeg, cloves, patchouli, woody notes and peru balsam.

Source: Fragrantica

Source: Fragrantica

There was a lot of fuss in the blogosphere about the perfume not only because it was a departure from Malle’s traditional focus but, also, because Dries van Noten involved the use of sustainable Mysore sandalwood. As the Perfume Shrine explained back in January,

it’s also an innovation on the formula front, as the new Malle perfume is touted to be inclusive of a new, natural Indian sandalwood from a sustainable source. Indian sandalwood, for those who didn’t know, had essentially been eradicated from perfumery in the last 20 years or so, due to concerns and regulations on the sustainability of the Mysore sandalwood. The news therefore is a leap of hope for the industry in general and sure to create a real peak of interest in the heart of every perfume fan out there.

Large-sized 3.4 oz bottle.

Large-sized 3.4 oz bottle.

All that is absolutely wonderful, particularly for those (like myself) who adore true Mysore sandalwood, but sandalwood isn’t at the heart of this perfume. No, it’s cookies. To be very specific, the American cookie (or “biscuit,” as the British term it) called “Snickerdoodles.” Americans will know immediately the precise smell which that name invokes but, for others, here is a brief summation from Wikipedia:

snickerdoodle is a type of cookie made with butter or oil, sugar, and flour rolled in cinnamon sugar. Eggs may also sometimes be used as an ingredient, with cream of tartar and baking soda added to leaven the dough. Snickerdoodles are characterized by a cracked surface and can be crisp or soft depending on preference.

Snickerdoodles are often referred to as “sugar cookies”. However, traditional sugar cookies are often rolled in white sugar whereas snickerdoodles are rolled in a mixture of white sugar and cinnamon.

SnickerdoodlesThe thick, yellow-brown, very buttery, very doughy, cinnamon-sugar cookie is exactly what Dries van Noten smells like — only with nutmeg replacing the cinnamon. The opening on my skin is as simple as that, though there is a definite subtext of flour that sometimes verges into the raw dough batter territory. There are creamy, milky notes, both of vanilla and something resembling almonds at times. The whole thing is wrapped up in a cloud of nutmeg, dancing around like the sugar spice fairy. It’s never bitter or pungent, but, instead, sweetened. The sandalwood is similarly sugared, and seems nothing like vintage or real Mysore sandalwood. There is a definite creamy fluffiness to the scent which is surprisingly light in feel. It’s almost as if the sometimes heavy, doughy sugar cookies have been turned into gauzy air.

About ten minutes in, woody notes start to appear — light, white, and quietly smoky. The notes add a dryness to the scent and ensure that the perfume is never cloying, excessively sweet, or cheap-smelling. As time passes, but especially at the thirty minute benchmark, the woods start to turn much smokier. The guaiac wood is starting to make itself noticed with its strong note of burning leaves or burning paper. I love the smell in its more unusual twist on traditional “smoke,” especially as it’s never acrid, sharp or bitter. I think it adds a much-needed dryness to the extremely sweet, fluffy cookie-aspect of the fragrance.

There is also the start of a faint muskiness from the jasmine. The latter is not perceptible as a floral note, in and of itself, at first. It’s far from indolic, heavy, or sour, so those who fear the note need not worry. But the jasmine gives rise to something very puzzling: one part of my arm starts to smell almost solely of sweet, slightly musky jasmine, while the rest of it smells of snickerdoodles, smoking paper, nutmeg and vanilla. It’s as though there is a No Man’s Land inlet of territory where the jasmine is evident, but nowhere else. And it remains that way for a good two hours. No blending, no merging, no jasmine elsewhere — ever. I find it the oddest thing!

For the next six hours, the majority of my arm (minus that one No Man’s Land) smells of Snickerdoodles to varying degrees, but with small subtexts of other notes. At first, the nutmeg is much more pronounced; then it becomes the guaiac and other wood tonalities; after a while, it’s the dough and flour which become the main subtext; and, then, vanilla and sandalwood. But the core essence of nutmeg sugarcookie never changes. At first, I find it delightful and cozy, and then, frankly, I become very  tired and bored of it.

Snickerdoodle dough. Source: FindingTimeForCooking.com

Snickerdoodle dough. Source: FindingTimeForCooking.com

By the time the creamy (but definitely sweetened) sandalwood rolls around, the linearity has driven me a little mad. Particularly as the final dry-down is still mostly flour, yeasty dough, sugar and vanilla. To be fair, I’m not really one for food scents to begin with and, despite the early dry, woody and spiced elements, the needle definitely veers into the “gourmand” category here. Fragrantica can classify this as a “woody oriental” as much as they want; to me, sugar cookies=foody desserts=gourmand fragrances. Period.

I find the fragrance to be a surprising scent to come out of Frederic Malle. This is a lot more what I imagined Jo Malone’s recent “Sugar and Spice” collection to be like. Well, if it were, you know, actual fragrance that was both good, of high-quality, and long-lasting. (Yes, yes, I know, “Meow.”) As a whole, I think Dries Van Noten is not as distinctive as many of Malle’s usual fragrances are, and I suspect that is why a few people seem to have a slight tone of disappointment underlying their generally positive reviews. Or perhaps that is merely my interpretation of the initial test reactions on a Basenotes thread, along with Grain de Musc’s assessment of the perfume.

In Denyse Beaulieu’s case, she had originally expected a scent that evoked a Flemish vegetal garden, but found instead a “speculoos” cookie (which is, I am assuming, a Belgian version of a Snickerdoodle):

When I learned he was partnering with Frédéric Malle I immediately though of Van Noten’s 60-acre garden near Antwerp and envisioned a vegetal, unconventionally floral scent.  [¶] I envisioned a landscape instead of a portrait. Frédéric Malle headed straight for a warm, well-ordered Flemish interior with a plate of cookies. Dries Van Noten is a very delicate woody gourmand, folding a cinnamon and clove-sprinkled, vanillic speculoos cookie accord into milky-smoky Mysore sandalwood[i]. To conjure the toasted, nutty, yeasty cookie dough, Malle remembered that sulfurol, more commonly used in food aromas, was also resorted to by Grasse perfumers to boost sandalwood (the material was featured in the odd, yeasty-milkyLe Feu d’Issey). Patchouli coeur (i.e. divested of its musty/camphor notes), methyl ionone and musk set the blend between woody and cosmetic accords. Jasmine absolute is listed, but not legible per se to my nose; the patchouli is fairly prominent.

I don’t smell any patchouli, but the rest is dead on. Victoria at Bois de Jasmin seems to have had a completely experience from both of us, however, with much more floral notes:

Dries Van Noten’s perfume is smooth like melted chocolate and rich like whipped cream, but you won’t smell of Belgian waffles topped with cherries, or anything edible for that matter. The fragrance uses Indian sandalwood*, and it smells simply decadent–rosy, creamy, warm and opulent. Add to this a lush jasmine note, and I’m in Rajasthan, rather than Antwerp, but this is a wonderful fantasy in itself.

The sweetness of vanilla and toasted almond is balanced out by the citrus and earthy violet notes. The hint of something savory is an accent that shouldn’t work but does. The first impression of Dries Van Noten when I spray it on my skin is a classical oriental a la Guerlain Shalimar, where citrus is used to cool down the rich woods and vanilla. But as I wear it longer, it becomes more floral and musky. The perfume reminds me more of the violet tinged woods of Serge Lutens Bois de Violette than of caramelized sandalwoods like Lutens’s Santal de Mysore or Guerlain Samsara.

Violets? Hm. Not on my end. No Shalimar-like citrus, either. 

Where I do agree with both ladies is the extremely minimal projection of the perfume. However, there seems to be a little bit of a twist where that is concerned. At first, Denyse of Grain de Musc “found its sillage surprisingly introverted despite several spritzes.” Later, she discovered that maybe it vanished only to her own nose! And she wasn’t alone in that. As she explains:

After discussing Dries Van Noten with other French bloggers and perfume lovers who’d tested it, it seems that while the wearer stops being able to perceive the fragrance after a while except in whiffs, other people smell it quite well.
We agreed we’d noticed this occurring with a few sandalwood and iris accords (there is no iris in DVN but there are ionones) like Cartier L’Heure Promise, Tom Ford Santal Blush and Diptyque Volutes. Other people can smell them just fine on us while we feel the fragrance has all but vanished.
Could there be some type of anosmia or “de-sensitization” at play?

Victoria of Bois de Jasmin also found it had “minimal” projection, while some people on a perfume group I frequent have simply said that the scent vanished entirely after an incredibly brief period of time. In short, it’s definitely something to take into consideration, given the cost of the perfume, and to test it for yourself! 

The early consensus from those who’ve tried it is that Dries Van Noten is an incredibly cozy and comforting scent. I think that is very true, if you like gourmand fragrances. But those who aren’t so keen on smelling like food may not be that enamoured. It is one reason why I’m not a huge fan. Another is that I find both its sweetness and its linearity to be, ultimately, a bit too much for my personal tastes — especially for the price. The perfume starts at $185 for a 1.7 oz/50 ml bottle, with the larger bottle retailing for $265. Even if you buy the set of 3 travel-sized minis, it’s still $125 to smell like a Snickerdoodle and yeasty, sugar dough.

Nonetheless, I have no doubt that this will be an enormously popular fragrance, particularly amongst those who enjoy dessert scents with an occasional dry, woody undertone. The gushing I’ve already seen on some sites seems to support that. Plus, the light sillage and good longevity (about 9.5 hours on my perfume-consuming skin) make it ideal for those who want something airy, lightweight and cozy. It’s also suitable for the office, though I personally would not wear it in a very conservative work environment. (Can one be taken seriously if one smells of Snickerdoodles?) 

To mangle the famous quote from the great Judi Dench, “if cookies be your perfume of love… spray on.” 

DETAILS:
Cost & Availability: As noted above, you can purchase Dries Van Noten in a variety of different forms and ways. On his website, Malle offers: 3 travel-sized sprays in a 10 ml size for $125; a 50 ml/1.7 oz bottle for $185; or a 100 ml/3.4 oz bottle for $265. You can also find the perfume at Barneys. In Canada, I’ve read that it is carried at Holt Renfrew, but Dries Van Noten is not listed amongs the few Malles shown on their website. In the UK, it is available at Liberty which sells the 50 ml size for £110.00 and the 100 ml bottle for £155.00. The three 10 ml travel-sized bottles are also available for £70.00. Elsewhere, you can use the Store Locator to find a location that carries the fragrance near you. If you want to test it out, I bought my sample at Surrender to Chance where prices start at $5.99 for a 1 ml vial.

Review En Bref: Frederic Malle Lipstick Rose: Lipstick & Powder

As always, my Reviews En Bref are for perfumes that — for whatever reason — didn’t seem to merit a full, exhaustive discussion.

The luxury fragrance house Editions de Parfums Frederic Malle is one of the most respected niche perfume lines in the world. It was founded in 2000 by Frederic Malle, a man who has luxury perfume in his blood. His grandfather founded Christian Dior Perfumes, and his mother later worked as an Art Director for the same perfume house.

Lipstick RoseIn 2000, Malle teamed up with the perfumer Ralf Schweiger to create Lipstick Rose, a powdery floral, which the Malle website describes as follows:

Marilyn in Technicolor, vulnerable even brash. Lipstick Rose is Ralph Schweiger’s vision of glamorized femininity. A perfume that smiles at you, like a dash of lipstick with its rose and violet-flavored bonbon scent. Grapefruit and violet enhance the fragrance’s rose note. The backdrop is musk and vanilla with a hint of vetiver and amber.

Fragrantica lists its notes as follows:

rose, violet, musk, vanilla, vetiver, amber and grapefruit.

I should confess at the start that I am not usually worshipful of rose scents, and that I’m even less keen on very powdery ones. In short, I’m probably the wrong target audience for this fragrance to begin with. Nonetheless, there have been exceptions, and I always try to keep an open mind to things and to really give perfume a chance. I failed here. I didn’t last a full two hours before I simply had to wash this off and then take some aspirin for a very rare, perfume-induced migraine.

Lipstick Rose opened on me with a strong note of primarily powdered rose, then violets, followed by a faint touch of musk with a hint of yellow grapefruit. The latter was faint, and barely cut through the powdered florals. There was a sweet touch of vanilla bean as well. Moments later, the violet notes became as strong as the rose, if not stronger. It was very similar to sweet, powdered, candied violets. As the perfume continued to unfurl, I went back and forth on which floral note dominated. Sometimes, it seemed to be the rose; sometimes, the violets.

It was very evocative of YSL‘s Paris in vintage form. The latter was a scent in which I doused myself for a full year in the early 1980s (leading, perhaps, to my lingering issues with rose fragrances) but Lipstick Rose is far more powdery, less clear, less purely floral, and more sweet than my memories of Paris. That said, I was initially surprised to actually like Lipstick Rose. I certainly didn’t expect to. But note the word “initially” in that sentence.

pampers-baby-wipesAs time passes, Lipstick Rose’s sweetness increases in strength, as do its powdery notes. I have an incredibly strong impression of baby wipes. I’d read a few similar comments to that effect on Fragrantica and elsewhere, and they aren’t joking. There are also very waxy notes that — as expected and as frequently reported — call to mind old-fashioned, luxury lipsticks. (Numerous people compare the scent to old Lancome lipsticks, though I’ve read comparisons to MAC as well. I smell old-style Chanel-rose combined with the Guerlain-violet lipsticks, amplified by a thousand). It’s a hand-to-hand combat between the rose, the violet, the sugar and the baby-wipes powder, and it’s only just begun….

About thirty minutes in, Lipstick Rose starts to become unbearably cloying and, even worse, synthetic to my nose. I feel the start of a tell-tale thump in my head, which only comes with extremely strong synthetics. In the FAQ section of his website, Frederic Malle classifies Lipstick Rose as one of the strongest perfumes in his line. The second strongest category, to be precise. The strength would be fine if it wasn’t so synthetic to me. The sillage is powerful in the opening hour, though I’ve read that it fades away and becomes a much softer scent as a whole. Perhaps, but I couldn’t take the full evolution. At exactly one hour and 47 minutes into its progression, I waved the white flag. My head hurt, I felt actually queasy, and not even scientific accuracy for a review warranted another moment of it.

One of my goals in my reviews, at least in my full ones, is to give a full impression of the perfume, with comments from others — lovers and haters alike. So, for full fairness, I want to present you with the other side of the picture. And I’ll start with another perfume blogger: Birgit of Olfactoria’s Travels. She first “shunned” the perfume before becoming “enamored” and changing her mind. She found its extreme feminity to be a symbol of independence, femininity on her terms and a symbol that eradicated the strictures of her youth regarding cosmetics or feeling pretty.

"La Goulue" from the always amazing 19th century painter, Toulouse-Lautrec.

“La Goulue” from the always amazing 19th century painter, Toulouse-Lautrec.

On Fragrantica, the reviews vary from great appreciation of the perfume’s retro quality to thoughts that it is too powdery and too much like wearing an actual lipstick. You may find some of the comments — positive and negative– to be useful:

  • For me, this is such a “happy, happy, joy, joy” kind of fragrance. It makes me think of clowns, old theaters, really red and kind of sticky old lipstick, doing a careful make-up… and also the phrase “It cost´s money to look this cheap”. 🙂 Very retro, very not have to think about the morning, carefree, adorable, easy to like kind of scent.
  • If you like tooth achingly sweet perfumes then you will probabily like this. Its a shame, i like most Frederic Malle perfumes and find them quite natural smelling, if you know what i mean, but this one is just to artificial for me!
  • If you like being a girl, you’ll most likely enjoy wearing this perfume. It’s so bright and glamorous and reminds me of the ballet days of my youth. Smells very reminiscent of Lancome lipstick and is very delicately feminine.
  • violets and roses, on a slight musky vanilla base. It has been done before. I still like it, but the more I wear it, the more underwhelmed I am… sorry. […] This has a lot in common with YSL Paris, in it’s edp vintage formulation, which I owned. But [Paris is] much rounder and smoother, and overall a much prettier scent.

    Dancer at the Folies Bergeres. Source: the amazing site of Thomas Weynants. http://users.telenet.be/thomasweynants/actrices.html

    Dancer at the Folies Bergeres. Source: the amazing site of Thomas Weynants. http://users.telenet.be/thomasweynants/actrices.html

  • I see the comparison to YSL Paris (one of my favorites) but the spirit of the two scents is entirely different: Paris is a deeply romantic traditional floral where Lipstick Rose is naughty (I think my aunt would have said it has moxie) and irreverent. This perfume should be sitting on a frilly vanity next to a big fluffy powder puff and a jar of Jergen face cream. It’s so humorously retro that it’s become
    Can-can dancers at the famous Moulin Rouge. Source: the very cool Dressign Rooms entry on the Tina Tarnoff blog, Thought Patterns: http://tinatarnoff.typepad.com/thought_patterns/2009/06/dressing-rooms.html

    Can-can dancers at the famous Moulin Rouge. Source: the very cool Dressing Rooms entry on the Tina Tarnoff blog, Thought Patterns. (Click on the photo to go to the blog.)

    modern.

  • I just feel being in a wardrobe of Moulin Rouge, where big shiners ornaments the mirrors and many different cosmetics lies on the dressing table, costumes hang on the wall, the air is full of joy, everybody is laughing and there is a big crystal vase in the middle of the dressing table with a dozen red, full and rich roses, which captures this one moment. […] This perfume brings exactly those pictures into my mind and fulls my heart with calmness and joy.

On MakeupAlley, the negative reviews are harsher:

  • This is a terrible fragrance. I find it hard to believe that it has received such high acclaim. It absolutely smells like an old lady’s makeup bag. Who wants to smell like that?!
  • For the life of me I can not understand why this has such a high rating. It does smell exactly like lipstick, and not a nice one. Like the cheap waxy smell of the ones I bought at the drugstore when I was 12. I would never pay good money to smell like that.
  • Perfume is such a personal thing – I expected to love this because it has rose and violets which are some of my favourite things, and I admire most other Malle creations, but it is a sickly-sweet, powdery abomination on me. Wearing this, I find it hard to breathe and promptly develop a filthy headache. 
  • I love fresh rose fragrances, and don’t mind sweet candied violets, but this smelled so strongly of sweet powder on me that I could barely tolerate it. Had to wash it off after 30 minutes. And I barely applied any from my sample vial. Cloying and much too powdery for me.
  • Ugh. Imagine a vintage lipstick mixed in with some rose essential oil slathered on your skin. When applying, I get melted plastic and a hint of rose. On drydown, it just smells like crayon. I’ve tried it a few times, but I still really don’t like this one at all. 

I think there are a lot of women who would find Lipstick Rose to be their ideal scent and a joyous, fun evocation of enormous femininity. But I would strongly urge those women to test it first. I am not alone among perfume bloggers in thinking it a cloyingly synthetic fragrance. One friend of mine — who actually adores powdery fragrances and many Frederic Malle creations — seemed to shudder faintly when I mentioned my agonized reactions to it yesterday. He immediately dismissed it as “very synthetic,” and told me “[i]f you wish for a fragrance that smells like makeup, go get a sample of 1889 by Histoires de Parfums, fun and burlesque in the bottle.”

I shall follow his advice. To the rest of you, Lipstick Rose may be your ticket back to the 19th-century Moulin Rouge. But you may want to be close to a bottle of aspirin and a shower when you try it…

DETAILS:
Cost & Availability: You can purchase Lipstick Rose in a variety of different forms and ways. OnLipstick Rose line his website, Malle offers: 3 travel-sized sprays in a 10 ml size for $110; a 50 ml/1.7 oz bottle for $165; a 100 ml/3.4 oz bottle for $240; or a 200 ml/6.8 oz Body Milk for $100. You can also find the perfume at Barneys and, according to the Malle website, it is also carried at Saks Fifth Avenue, though it is not listed on the Saks website. Outside of the U.S., you can use the Store Locator to find a location that carries the fragrance near you. If you want to try a sample, Surrender to Chance carries Lipstick Rose. Prices start at $5.99 for a 1 ml vial.