Oriza L. Legrand Heliotrope Blanc: Sweet Innocence

Posted on December 11, 2014 by Kafkaesque

Norman Rockwell, “Mother Tucking Children Into Bed,” 1921. Source: pinterest.

Childhood pleasures and sweet innocence, captured in a bottle. Heliotrope Blanc surprised me, beguiled me, and charmed me against all odds. So many of its elements are things that I normally struggle with in perfumery, quite deeply at times, but there is something about this fragrance that is incredibly soothing and comforting for me.

It’s a cozy snuggle scent that made me think of Mary Poppins, almond milk and marshmallow cream, babies in soft blankets, a mother’s loving embrace as she puts her child to sleep, and childhood treats. Heliotrope Blanc’s sweet innocence completely blew away my longstanding issues with iris and powdery scents, leaving me coming back again and again for another sniff. In the end, I simply sprayed some on my sheets and pillows, and snuggled into them with a happy sigh. Apparently, one should never underestimate the impact of childhood comforts.

Source: mesenvies.fr

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Oriza L. Legrand Violettes du Czar: An Imperial Favorite

Posted on December 10, 2014 by Kafkaesque

Russian Imperial Coat of Arms. Source: Wikipedia.

The Tsar’s violets — the signature scent of not one but two Imperial Romanov rulers. How many fragrances can make that claim? Oriza L. Legrand‘s Violettes du Czar can — and now the imperial favorite has been brought back to life after more than 150 years to be made available to the modern man.

It’s the coolest thing imaginable for someone like me who loves history even more than perfume, but almost everything about Oriza L. Legrand (hereinafter just “Oriza“) is historically fascinating to me. For one thing, out of all the European perfume houses who created scents for royal or imperial courts (there is a difference), only Oriza was chosen as “Purveyor to the Russian Court.” Oriza made a number of fragrances for the imperial court, but their Violettes du Czar was the signature scent of two of the more significant Romanov rulers.

Chromolithography of Alexander II, coronation. Source: WikiCommons, commons.wikimedia.org

Chromolithography of Alexander II at his coronation. Source: WikiCommons, commons.wikimedia.org

In fact, it was made specifically for Alexander II or “Alexander the Liberator” who emancipated the serfs. Later, it was worn by his grandson, Nicholas II, whose actions were one of the causes that helped bring about the end of the Russian Empire and who was murdered in 1918 by the Bolsheviks. Of course, Oriza also made fragrances for other imperial courts as well, including another violet one for Prince Albert, Queen Victoria’s consort, but it is the Romanov violet that is the subject of today’s tale. It is a scent with several kinds of violet in it, from a particular variety from Nice (France), to the crunchy green of its leaves. In the ultimate symbolic parallel, the coup de gras comes in the form of Russian leather and golden amber. The end result is a scent that not only takes me back in time but, in all honesty, feels like something which a man like Alexander II would wear.

Source: Angelfire.com

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Oriza L. Legrand Vetiver Royal Bourbon

Posted on May 24, 2014 by Kafkaesque

Source: Source: hdwallsource.com

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

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

Source: Oriza L. Legrand.

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

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

Source: hdwallsource.com

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

Source: wallpoper.com

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Photo: My own.

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

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

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

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

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

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

Source: wallpapervortex.com

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

Source: Source: hqwide.com

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

DETAILS:

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

Oriza L. Legrand Foin Fraîchement Coupé

Posted on May 6, 2014 by Kafkaesque

Source: high-definition-wallpaper.com

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

Source: Oriza L. Legrand

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

1886
New-Mown-Hay

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

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

Source: josephsevier.org

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

Star Anise. Source: perierga.gr

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

Clary sage. Source: dreamstime.com

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

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

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

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

Source: hqwallpapers4free.com

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

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

Photo: my own.

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

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

Tonka beans. Source: Fragrance-creation.com

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

DETAILS:

Cost & Availability: Foin Fraichement is an eau de parfum that comes in a 100 ml or 3.4 oz bottle, and costs $125 or €90. Foin Fraichement is available directly from Oriza’s e-store. A great sample set is also available from the e-Store (scroll down midway to the page and it’s on the right.) The set includes 7 fragrances in the range, though not Foin Fraîchement Coupé, with each scent coming in 2 ml spray vials. The whole thing costs a low €9. Separate shipping is listed as €9, but a friend said he was charged only €7. Oriza ships globally, as I’ve had readers order the sample set from all over. In the U.S.: Luckyscent now carries the full Oriza L. Legrand line, including Foin Fraichement which it sells for $125 for a 100 ml bottle. Oriza is also carried at New York’s JuJu s’amuse. It has two locations, and I’ve provided the number for one, in case you want to check whether they do phone orders: 100 Thompson Street New York, NY 10012, with Ph: (212) 226.1201; but, also, 1220 Lexington Avenue (at 82nd Street), New York, NY 10018. Other vendors in Europe: Oriza’s perfumes are also sold at Paris’ Marie-Antoinette (which was my favorite perfume shop in Paris), as well as one store in Sweden. In the Netherlands, the Oriza line is carried at ParfuMaria. Germany’s First in Fragrance also carries the Oriza Legrand line, including Foin Fraichement. Oriza L. Legrand is also sold at a few places in Japan. For details on those retailers and the Swedish store, you can check Oriza Points of Sale page.