Perfume Review: Hedonist by Parfums Viktoria Minya

Posted on March 25, 2013 by Kafkaesque

Source: UniqueLiving.com

A stroll in Provence at the end of Spring. The scent of peaches and orange blossoms in the air. Fresh citruses and sparkling champagne. Heavily-laden mimosa trees adding colours of yellow, white and green. Bees buzzing everywhere, zipping from the fragrant flowers to honeycombs dripping with thick sweetness.

Viktoria Minya. Source: Viktoria Minya.

Those are the images evoked by Hedonist, a new perfume and the first in a line from the independent Paris house of Parfums Viktoria Minya. Ms. Minya spent many years studying the art of fragrance production in Grasse — the center for French (if not world) perfumery that is located in Provence — and then in working for various fragrance creation companies. Ms. Minya recently explained her philosophy and the goal behind Hedonist in an interview she gave to Fragrantica:

Impregnated of Grasse’s spirit, in the cradle of perfumery, I thought a perfume should be a celebration, it should be crowning your day, and it should be a moment of pure joy. I created Hedonist according to these values in my mind. I wanted it really to be a piece of beauty[.]

The spirit of Grasse is very strong in Hedonist and is probably why images of Provence are so vivid in my mind, recalling part of my childhood summers in the area. And the perfume is, indeed, beautiful, though I have to admit that hedonistic excess is not really the feel of it for me. Instead, it makes me feel extremely serene, soothed by the sweetness of honey and fruited flowers.

Hedonist in its handmade wooden box that is “fashioned to capture the sleek look and feel of snakeskin leather.” Source: Viktoria Minya website.

Nonetheless, Hedonist is described as follows:

A powerful and provocative perfume for a woman who dares to be true to her desires. Lush notes of jasmine and orange blossom absolute flirt with the dark intensity of rum and the world’s finest woods for a scent that is as captivating as it is unforgettable.

Source: Viktoria Minya.

Hedonist is presented within a beautifully crafted bottle filled with hundreds of genuine bohemian crystals that sparkle brilliantly in the divine golden liquid and the bottle itself is enclosed within a handmade wooden box fashioned to capture the sleek look and feel of snakeskin leather.

The notes in the perfume, as compiled from both Fragrantica and an interview there with Viktoria Minya, are:

Top notes: Rum CO2, bergamot, peach;

Heart notes: Indian jasmine absolute, Tunisian orange flower absolute, osmanthus absolute, tobacco;

Base notes: Haitian vetyver, Virginia cedar oil, Indonesian Patchouli, and vanilla.

Fragrantica classifies Hedonist as a “woody chypre.” Frankly, that leaves me utterly baffled. The perfume is hardly a chypre and has no oakmoss. On my skin, it’s not particularly woody, either! Instead, it’s a lovely, very sweet fruit-floral with a very cozy feel, thanks to its honey and vanilla heart.

Bees on a honeycomb. Source: McDanielHoneyFarm.com

From the very first whiff, Hedonist is pure honey. A tidal wave of honey that is rich and warm with an element of almost bourbon-like richness beneath the tone. Yet, surprisingly, it’s not very thick, boozy or heavy; it doesn’t feel like the sort of boozy heaviness of Guerlain‘s Spiriteuse Double Vanille with its genuinely rum (and rum raisin) accord. Here, instead, it feels more like very dark honeycombs, infused with florals.

Source: RebootwithJoe.com

Seconds after that opening burst, there is lush peach, heady jasmine, citrus notes and some orange blossom. The jasmine is beautifully intertwined with the peach which is so ripe and sweet, it feels as though its juices are dribbling down your chin. The fruity note is also quietly underscored by the honeyed apricot aspect of osmanthus. There are no significant orange accords, however, and the orange blossom is very muted at this time.

In comparison, the citrus notes are much more prominent in the opening minutes. They are fresh and sparkling, seeming at times like bergamot, while, at other times, adding a very subtle, quiet nuance of lemony freshness. They are joined by just a hint of green vetiver, but it is bright and a bit more like lemon grass than the usual earthy, dark, rooty note. With the citrus notes, it creates the image of the green leaves surrounding a peach.

The interesting part of Hedonist’s opening is the distinctly soapy undertone to the perfume. While I suspect it stems from the orange blossoms, what’s unusual about it is that it really feels like soapy woods! White woods, soft and light, but soapy nonetheless. The conjunction of that soapy note with Hedonist’s fizzy brightness calls to mind aldehydes, but also champagne. In this case, both the drink and YSL‘s Champagne/Yvresse perfume which I adore and which is one of my long-standing “happy” perfumes. It is a beautiful, fruity-floral fragrance with peaches, nectarines, apricots, vetiver, and fizzy aldehydes.

Source: Philolog at Traumwerk.Stanford.edu

That same sparkling feel exists here with Hedonist, and its bubbly pop leads me to think that either aldehydes or hedione are part of the perfume. For one thing, hedione has long been a key part of 20th century perfumery, especially for French perfumes. While it is often used in place of jasmine absolute, hedione is also sometimes used for its own characteristics in order to create a bright, green, lemon-nuanced fizzy note. Here, the jasmine note is not indolic, over-ripe, sour or plastic-y but, rather, very airy and almost green — the way it would be if hedione were used.

As for the aldehydes, they too are often added to create that shimmery brightness which is evident here. For the record, Ms. Minya says there are no aldehydes in the scent, but it sometimes feels like it. Not merely because of the occasionally soapy aspect to the perfume (though that vanishes after an hour), but also because of the sparkle and airiness. For all that Hedonist feels like a very heady perfume, it’s actually not opaque or thick at all. After that initial heaviness from the honey note (the Rum CO2) in the opening minutes, the perfume is actually quite light in feel. It’s definitely not oppressively weighted down or indolically narcotic.

I wouldn’t be surprised if there are other notes in the perfume that are not included on the list. For some reason, it almost feels as though there is a subtle mimosa note to all the cheerful, happy, sweet yellowness of the scent. I think it’s because I keep seeing yellow before my eyes when I smell the perfume. (And, also, because mimosas were also a big part of my childhood in the South of France.) At the same time, Hedonist also seems to have a light musk note underlying everything. That accord becomes more evident as time passes and the perfume develops more into its core base: honey, peach and beeswax over a light foundation of musk with vanilla.

After an hour, the notes change a little in nuance, but the perfume’s fundamental characteristic remains the same. The citrus notes have faded away completely to be replaced by more woody ones, along with the advent of orange blossom. The latter is subtle and well-blended into the jasmine. As time progresses, however, it becomes even less evident on my skin, though it occasionally pops up, here and there, in different degrees of strength. On my skin, Hedonist is not really an orange blossom scent, but a peach and honey one. As the other notes start to drop away, the honey becomes even more evident, strengthened by beeswax and the image of rich honeycombs. There is also the start of the vanilla undertone; it’s very soft and gauzy but, simultaneously, rich and creamy. When combined with the honey, beeswax and ripe, juicy peaches, the overall impression is of great sweetness.

The woodsy notes are very muted on my skin. There is a quiet element of cedar wood in the background, but it is just the barest shimmer. As for tobacco leaves, the first of my two tests of Hedonist showed the subtle hint of sweetened, dry tobacco leaves in the opening ten minutes of the scent, but it disappeared soon thereafter, never to reappear in any significant way. During my second test, however, both the tobacco leaves and the cedar wood were much more evident. They appeared at the end of the second hour, and I suspect it’s because I applied a far greater quantity of Hedonist than I did during my first test.

Another reason for the (small) difference might be because Hedoniste is a beautifully blended scent. Everything melds together in one very harmonious balance, making a few of the individual notes hard to detect in any significant way (with the exception of the honey). The background notes add to the richness of the scent in an indirect, subtle way, but they never visible morph the perfume into one thing or another. Instead, the core essence remains the same.

And that essence is a very classique scent. Hedonist has a very old-French aspect to it, though it’s not weighted down by some of the more traditional elements in French perfumery like oakmoss, powder, civet or patchouli. (Ms. Minya said in her interview with Fragrantica that patchouli was one of the notes in the perfume; I can’t smell it.) I think the airiness makes Hedoniste a very modern sort of classique fruity-floral. It is not trying to be revolutionary, unsettling or edgy; it simply wants to be beautiful and elegant.

Close-up of a honeycomb.
Source: Robert.Maro.net

Hedonist succeeds in that goal. Personally, however, I found it a much more soothing, serene, cozy scent than something sensuously hedonistic or sexy. It actually reminded me at times of Couvent de Minimes’ Honey and Shea body wash that I always turn to for its soothing, comforting qualities. Whatever Hedonist’s other elements or nuances, on my skin, it was first and foremost an uncomplicated, fruited honey, honeycomb and beeswax scent — and I loved it for that. And the perfume’s final drydown of honey, beeswax, vanilla and light musk was so pretty and cozy, I felt like curling up like a cat.

Hedonist is a strong perfume (though stronger if you apply more than the equivalent of 2 small sprays), but, as noted earlier, the feel is surprisingly light as a whole. The sillage starts as strong but, after the opening hour, became a touch above moderate in its projection on my skin. However, I was dabbing it on, so I suspect the perfume would be stronger if you applied Hedonist via an aerosolized spray bottle. Nonetheless, the first time I tested it, I was surprised by how quickly the fragrance became soft — which I think will be a definite bonus for those who prefer a less powerful scent. The perfume became very close to the skin only around the third hour, detectable only by bringing my nose to my arm. It hovered there as a soft, sweet veil for a number of hours. In terms of longevity, Hedonist lasted just about 9 hours on my perfume-consuming skin when I applied a lot, and approximately 7.5 when I applied less.

Hedonist’s richness is underscored by its utterly spectacular, luxurious presentation. Though I haven’t seen it in person, the photographs show a bottle that is filled with 500, genuine, Bohemian crystals which create a glittering, sparkling, jeweled effect that I find to be really stunning. I also think it happens to mimic the perfume’s very fizzy, champagne-like feel.

Source: Viktoria Minya.

All in all, Hedonist is an extremely sweet, very feminine scent and would be perfect for those who love sweet fruity-florals. Even those who normally shy away from florals and prefer gourmand scents may be drawn to it, thanks to all that lovely honey and the quiet vanilla in the background. It is far too feminine, in my opinion, for the majority of men to pull of it off, but men apparently love it on their girlfriends or wives. In her interview with Fragrantica, Ms. Minya said women who tested Hedonist “all liked the perfume, but their boyfriends/husbands were actually going crazy for it and begging their wife/girlfriends to wear it.”

I wear perfume for myself, not for others or their reaction to it, and I would definitely wear Hedonist. It’s one of those easy, uncomplicated scents that makes me feel very cheerful, cozy and warm. It’s a very happy scent that seems to have bottled the bright sunshine of Provence. Sparkle, cheerfulness and sweetness — all with beautiful crystals. I’m a fan.

DISCLOSURE: Sample provided courtesy of Viktoria Minya. However, that did not impact this review. As always, I make it very clear at the outset that samples are no guarantee of a positive review and that my first obligation is honesty to my readers.

DETAILS:

Cost & Availability: Hedonist is an Eau de parfum that is available directly from Viktoria Minya where it costs €130 (or, approximately, $168 at the current exchange rate) for a 45 ml/1.5 fl oz. bottle filled with 500 Bohemian crystals. Viktoria Minya Parfums offers a flat-rate shipping fee of €9 (or approximately $11.50). There are no geographic restrictions and she will ship everywhere. Samples are also available for €5 (or, approximately, $6.50) for a 1.8 ml vial with free shipping. Samples are now available from US stores, but you still get a better deal (given the 1.8 ml size) if order from the company with the free shipping. In the U.S.: Hedonist is now available at Luckyscent which sells the bottle for $195 with 0.8 oz samples for $5. Surrender to Chance also sells samples starting at $6.49 for a 1/2 ml vial.

Perfume Review – Ineke Hothouse Flower: Welcome to Spring!

Posted on March 23, 2013 by Kafkaesque

Spring is in the air. The garden is a sea of green, bright, dark and light, all showing signs of the lushness to come and falling like a waterfall over romantic secluded arbors. White flowers raise their heads in the corners and open their delicate buds, reaching towards the sun to let their sweet scent waft in the air. Dew sparkles like diamonds on the leaves. A spring shower is imminent.

Kew Gardens, London. Source: MrsMiniversDaughter.Blogspot.com

That is the image evoked by Hothouse Flower, a very pretty fragrance from the San Francisco niche perfume house, Ineke. I received a sample as a gift from my fellow perfume blogger, the lovely Undina of Undina’s Looking Glass who is a definite expert on florals and who enjoyed the freshness of the scent enough to buy a full bottle.

Hothouse Flower is a soliflore which means a fragrance centered around one single flower; in this case, gardenia. This is not your usual gardenia, however. It’s not a 1980s heavy, indolic, overpoweringly thick, or headache-inducing white floral. Instead, it is the brightest, lightest, most Spring-like gardenia you can imagine and is accompanied by the freshness of green leaves and Earl Grey tea with peppery woods — all over a quiet base of light musk and smoke.

Hothouse Flower was created by Ineke’s founder and nose, Ineke Ruhland, and was released in 2012. According to Ineke’s website, the notes in the perfume are:

Top notes are Earl Grey tea, green folliage and cypress; middle notes are gardenia, galbanum, fig and frankincense; base notes are guaiac wood, musk and corn silk.

Hothouse Flower opens on my skin as a bouquet. It feels like an armful of the loveliest fresh hyacinth, tuberose and gardenia flowers have been bound up with the brightest green leaves and a dainty, white ribbon. Though there is no hyacinth or tuberose in the notes, it really feels like it. The flowers have an unusual twist, however. They are peppered! The note is light, though, and never takes away from the freshness or airiness of the scent. While the pepper waxes and ebbs in prominence throughout the perfume’s development, in the opening minutes, it is particularly subtle.

“Butchart Gardens in the rain” by Matt Emrich. Source: Redbubble.com

Those minutes transport you to the most beautiful country garden, surrounded by walls of climbing greenery and the most fragrant of Spring flowers. I truly expected a Spring shower at any moment, as I inhaled the delicate bouquet with its dewy, fresh notes. The gardenia is surprisingly light for such a rich flower, though there is already an undertone of coconut which I found to be a bit disconcerting in the midst of such an airy symphony. Its underlying richness is a paradox, given the freshness of the fragrance which has a very gauzy, lightweight texture.

Woodland Bridal Bouquet with Gardenias. Source: FrancoiseWeeks.com

As time progresses, the green notes grow more prominent. The scent of new leaves is now joined by the aromatic fragrance of Earl Grey tea. Together, they serve to counter that initial coconut undertone to the gardenia, as does the persistent peppery note. Though I would have preferred absolutely no coconut (which sometimes feels here a little like coconut lotion on my skin), there is no denying that Hothouse Flower is a lovely balance of light sweetness, never heavy or overdone.

Pepper, whole and ground.

Soon, ten minutes in, the perfume transforms from a spring bouquet to something that is less purely floral in nature. The quiet note of finely ground pepper starts to turn woody, bringing the garden’s trees into the mix. Cypress has definitely entered center stage, singing a duet with the gardenia, while fig hovers shyly to the side and in the background. The latter is not a ripe, gooey, sticky version of the fruit but, rather, more akin to something fresh and just barely sweetened. It’s a lovely counterpart to the dark peppered woods. It also contributes to the fresh aspects of the scent when combined with the subtle undertone of earthiness from the galbanum which feels, here, a little like rich, wet soil. The two notes very much add to the overall feel of a garden first thing in the morning.

As noted earlier, the Earl Grey tea note is also noticeable but, like much to do with this fragrance, it is extremely light and subtle. It adds a quiet fragrancy to the green and dark notes, but I think a true tea-lover may find it a little too muted and ephemeral. That said, the second time I tested Hothouse Flower, I applied a far greater quantity of the perfume and the tea note was a little bit more evident. When combined with the woodsy notes, the smoke from the frankincense, and the pepper, the tea takes on a more complex undertone than mere bergamot. This is not citrusy, and definitely resembles Earl Grey instead. Nonetheless, as a whole, it is extremely subtle and never really stands out on its own in this well-blended fragrance.

Despite the darker notes, the true star of the show is the gardenia. It is really lovely and delicate. Regardless of its creamy coconut undertone, it is also never indolic, thick, custard-y or excessive. I know Hothouse Flower is supposed to represent the lush, hot-house version of the flower, but the perfume is simply too airy, thin, fresh and light for that. For many people, that will be a definite plus.

Nonetheless, by the end of the first hour, the perfume does lose some of its gorgeous freshness. The green notes vanish for the most part, and there is no longer the impression of a dewy, Spring bouquet. But Hothouse Flower was intended to be a gardenia soliflore, first and foremost, so I certainly can’t (and don’t) fault it for that.

From the second hour to the end of the perfume’s development, Hothouse Flower takes on its primary characteristic: coconut-y gardenia over a base of light smoke, subtle pepper and quiet musk. It never changes beyond those notes. It may not be wholly my cup of tea due to the coconut, but it is pretty. The addition of the really subtle smoke note from the frankincense and the almost imperceptible pepper hovering in the background adds a lot more complexity to the scent than one would initially imagine from the word “soliflore.” Moreover, despite the rise in the coconut undertone — which makes Hothouse Flower a much richer, heavier scent than it was initially — it’s still incredibly lightweight.

In fact, it’s so light, I had a big problem smelling it at times. The sillage begins at a very low-level from the start, but soon drops even further. Within an hour, at most, Hothouse Flower is a skin scent. By the end of the third hour, I had thought it had disappeared completely! It is a little surprising for something that is eau de parfum concentration. To be honest, I’m not even sure how long Hothouse Flower lasted on me. The first time I tested the perfume, it seemed to vanish by the time the fourth hour rolled around. Only by extremely determined sniffing (in this case, more akin to the feral attack of a hyena on my arm) could I detect small patches of it lingering here and there. By the start of the fifth hour, I wouldn’t swear to its presence in any noticeable way. However, the second time I tested Hothouse Flower, I doubled the amount and could smell faint traces a little after the 6 hour mark.

Clearly, this is a scent whose projection and longevity you can manipulate via quantity. Again, I think that will make the perfume ideal for those who like extremely discreet, very light skin-scents. However, those who prefer moderate projection or great longevity — not to mention more body — will be sorely disappointed, as this is a very thin, sheer perfume. You may have to apply a double-to-triple dose if you want to detect its smell after the first hour from more than an inch away, and to have it last a substantial amount of time.

Despite those issues, Hothouse Flower is a very pretty fragrance and it’s made even lovelier by its price. In the world of niche perfumery, finding a well-blended, well-made, non-artificial, lovely scent that retails for under $100 in a large (2.5 oz/ 75 ml) bottle is a bit like stumbling upon a mythical unicorn in some secret garden. But Ineke Ruhland has done it. Not only that, but she also makes her perfumes extremely accessible via a Deluxe Sample pack of all eight of her eau de parfums for an incredible $25 with free shipping. Honestly, it’s mind-boggling. One cannot help but give a huge “Brava” to someone who very clearly wants the world to enjoy perfume without problems of access or cost.

Gardenia bouquet. Photo: Eric Kelley via Wedding Chicks on ILoveSWmag.com. For more beautiful gardenia bridal photos and bouquets, click on the photo to go to the website.

The combination of all these factors make me think that the perfume would be particularly lovely as a bridal scent. The freshness, femininity, and low sillage would make it a perfect, discreet accompaniment on the big day. And, for those who love gardenia scents, even more so. On Fragrantica, one person (“raw umber”) wrote the perfect summation:

Hothouse Flower smells like Spring erupting on all sides. It’s Spring on steroids. It is extremely uplifting and soothing. I could see this being very complimentary to the aroma of a morning cup of coffee. It’s like natural anti-depressants. If you like gardenia, but dislike those heavy, sneeze-inducing, overpowering florals, this variation on a true to life green gardenia should help you begin your day on the right foot.

The perfume website, CaFleureBon, also loved Hothouse Flower. So much so that they rated it as one of the Top 25 perfumes of 2012, writing:

In a year with so many good gardenia fragrances it shouldn’t be a surprise I have two on my list. Ineke Ruhland captures a gardenia weighted down and surrounded by the humidity of a hothouse. This gives a depth to the central note that nobody else who assayed this in 2012 came close to matching. I felt like I was surrounded and consumed with this gardenia.

Personally, I don’t think that the gardenia note is “weighted down” since Hothouse Flower is such a light, airy fragrance, but I definitely agree that the flower has depth here.

In short, Hothouse Flower is a very pretty scent, and one that I would definitely recommend for those who enjoy incredibly light, unobtrusive, discreet, fresh florals. Welcome to Spring!

DETAILS:

Cost & Availability: Hothouse Flower is an Eau de Parfum that comes in a 2.5 oz/75 ml size and which costs $95. You can purchase it from the Ineke website which ships within the US and to Canada. As noted above, there is a fantastic deal on a Deluxe Sampler set where you get all 8 perfumes in the line for $25 with free shipping. Purchase of the set also gives you a discount if you end up buying a full bottle of one of the perfumes from the Ineke website: “When you place an order for the Deluxe Sample Collection, you will also be provided with a discount code that you can apply against your next order of a 75 ml product from our alphabetical collection on our website. The Floral Curiosities collection for Anthropologie is not part of this program.” In the US and Canada, the perfume is also sold at Anthropologie for the same $95 price. In the UK, Ineke fragrances are carried at about seven different sites throughout the country (as listed on Ineke’s website), but the best online resource seems to be The Grooming Clinic which sells Hothouse Flower for £79.75 with free shipping within the UK. I should note that the Ineke line is generally carried by Liberty London, but I don’t see Hothouse Flower listed on the website. In Australia, you can generally find Ineke perfumes on the Libertine website for AUD$160 but, unfortunately, they don’t list Hothouse Flower. Other retail locations — including a good number of international sellers from Italy to Denmark, Greece, Poland and the UAE — can be found on the company’s Stores page. Samples of the perfume are available via Ineke’s own sample set but if you just want to try this one, Surrender to Chance has Hothouse Flower starting at $2.99 for a 1 ml vial.

Perfume Review- Serge Lutens Five O’ Clock Au Gingembre

Posted on March 22, 2013 by Kafkaesque

Tea at Buckingham Palace. That is Serge Lutens‘ goal and inspiration for Five O’ Clock Au Gingembre. It is a cozy, versatile, unisex fragrance that takes woody oriental notes to the edges of the gourmand category in a symphony of milky tea, candied ginger, honey, dark chocolate, spices and woodsy notes. It’s not revolutionary or particularly complex, but it is quite lovely. Even better, it is a fragrance that is currently heavily discounted for US buyers on a variety of different sites as Serge Lutens is discontinuing this fragrance from his American rotation.

British “High Tea” at the Chesterfield Hotel, London. Source: Bookatable.com

We’ll get to the discontinuation issue shortly but, first, the perfume itself. Serge Lutens describes the scent as

Tea at Buckingham Palace.

Centered on candied ginger, this fragrance is a ritual ceremony.
It caters to the quicksilver in us, to our imagination dressed in white gloves.

The perfume was created in 2008 by Christopher Sheldrake and its full set of notes, as compiled from Fragrantica and Luckyscent, seem to be:

Top notes are tea and bergamot; middle notes are candied ginger, cinnamon and woodsy notes; base notes are dark cacao, honey, amber, patchouli and pepper.

I’ll be frank: nothing about this scent evokes a formal, regal, reserved, diamond-clad, white-gloved Queen Elizabeth II to me (or any other British royal for that matter). In this instance, that is a very good thing because this is not an aloof, distant, haughty or baroque scent. Instead, it is an infinitely cozy scent that covers you in a light, soft veil of sweet, spicy notes like your favorite, creamy cashmere sweater.

Five O’ Clock Au Gingembre opens on my skin with fresh, zesty lemon that quickly turns spiced from the lightly smoked woods that feel almost like cedar. For a split second, the lemon note feels a little like the start of a man’s cologne but the impression is fleeting and the citrus is soon warmed by the woods and by the advent of ginger. The latter is simultaneously like the fresh ingredient and like its candied, crystallized version. Hints of cinnamon (and something that feels like cloves) also appear, along with the subtly orange undertone to bergamot.

Ginger, honey, lemon tea.

The citrus notes are lovely but, alas, a little too fleeting for me. Within minutes, they are overshadowed by far sweeter tones. There is rich, dark honey which is surprisingly airy and light in feel, and never thick, cloying or excessively sweet. The honey is tinged with a dark chocolate element which is chewy and rich like a dark ganache, and subtly sprinkled with cinnamon powder. Dancing along the edges are quiet touches of patchouli, black pepper, and amber.

The whole thing may sound like a very heavy combination of elements, but the perfume is extremely light, beautifully well-blended, never overdone, and surprisingly soft. It projects very little beyond one’s body even from the start, and just gets closer and closer to the skin as time goes by. The very discreet notes cover you in an airy cocoon of spiced, candied ginger infused with other, alternating elements and, while it tiptoes to the very edge of the gourmand category, it never really crossing over.

One reason may be the more oriental dry notes. Even apart from the cedar-like woods, light black pepper, and dry spices which undercut some of the sweetness, there is the key issue of tea. At the ten minute mark, Five O’ Clock Au Gingembre starts to evoke a lovely cup of milky tea. It’s not strong and black like Oolong or a much richer Chai, but soft and mild like the more fragrant Earl Grey. On my skin, alas, the note isn’t particularly strong or long-lasting; it vanishes after less than thirty minutes. On others, however, the bergamot, citrus and tea notes seem to last quite a decent amount of time.

A young cedar tree trunk.

As time passes, the perfume subtly changes. At the twenty-minute mark, the pepper, patchouli and cinnamon become more prominent, the ginger becomes much less candied, and a subtle note of beeswax makes its appearance. Then, forty minutes in, the wood notes start to become much more significant. There is almost an oud/agarwood-like element to the note. It’s quietly smoky with a faintly chilled, mentholated, peppered edge. I suspect that is due to the combination of cedar-like wood with its occasionally evergreen undertones and the patchouli which can have a lightly mentholated aspect. At least, it does whenever it is handled by Christopher Sheldrake; I’d say mentholated notes are his signature! Here, there is nothing camphorous, unpleasantly medicinal, or even rubbery like pink bandaids; there is merely a definite cool, chilled aspect to the patchouli and woodsy notes. It serves to further undercut some of the sweetness of the perfume which is now far less honeyed and much more dryly chocolate-y in nature.

Chocolate-dipped, candied ginger. Source: SinfulSweetsOnline.com

For the next few hours, different notes wax and wane in prominence, but the core elements remain fundamentally unchanged. By the end, Five O’Clock Au Gingembre is predominantly a light, sheer mix of: candied ginger; dusty dark chocolate; gauzy amorphous amber; and subtle patchouli. To my surprise, it’s not very sweet, especially as compared to that very honeyed opening. In fact, I would say that the final hours are actually a bit dry in nature due to the slightly powdery nature to the dark cocoa.

Another surprise was the sillage and duration of the scent. Five O’ Clock Au Gingembre is very, very, soft. The sillage is low from the start and becomes close to the skin in as little time as an hour. For those who like their perfumes to be discreet and unobtrusive, that will be a definite bonus; for others, like myself, that incredible shortness of time may be an issue.

The duration was also problematic for me. I may have perfume-consuming skin, but Five O’ Clock Au Gingembre definitely clocked in at the low-end of the scale by just barely reaching the five-hour mark. To be honest, I actually thought it had vanished after four hours, but some very determined, obdurate sniffing detected faint traces lingering on a few parts of my skin. So, I’ll say that it’s five hours in length, even though the majority of the scent disappeared on me after four. I have had much better luck with many of the other Lutens fragrances. One of my friends who is a hardcore Lutenista has this theory (with which I agree) that the lighter the colour of Lutens’ juice, the lighter its duration. And Five O’ Clock Au Gingembre is an extremely watery (though very pretty) light-brown colour.

Despite the longevity issue on my particular skin, I definitely enjoyed Five O’ Clock Au Gingembre. And I think others would too, unless they disliked sweet notes that seem to be “foody” in even the smallest way. It’s incredibly versatile and wearable — every day and throughout the year. Its lightness and low sillage makes it eminently suitable for even the most conservative office environment. And, it is also very unisex, though a few women have found it to be a wee bit too masculine. (I suspect that is because of the woodsy and peppered undertones that appear after an hour.)

Five O’ Clock Au Gingembre is also a great deal at the moment, particularly for American buyers. As noted earlier, Serge Lutens discontinued this scent from its US retailers in 2012 and, as a result, it is hugely discounted at a number of places. (Full pricing information and details below, including links to places that ship internationally.) However, the perfume is currently available on the Serge Lutens website and will continue to remain there for the foreseeable future. Oddly enough, despite the repeated and widespread discontinuation comments, Five O’ Clock Au Gingembre is still available on the Barney’s website. I have no idea how long that will last, but why spend $120 with possible tax when you can buy the perfume for $87 with no tax and free domestic shipping within the US? Who doesn’t love a bargain?

In short, Five O’ Clock Au Gingembre may not take you to have tea with the Queen at Buckingham palace, but (to mangle the old song) it is definitely tea, ginger & sweet sympathy.

Details:

Cost & Availability: Though Five O`Clock Au Gingembre normally retails for $120 for a 1.7 oz/50 ml bottle, it is currently on sale on Overstock.com for $86.99 and the site also offers free shipping within the US. The site ships out internationally but for a fee and with some restrictions. Five O’ Clock Au Gingembre is also discounted on FragranceNet where the price is slightly higher at $97.19 but there is an extra 15% off for first-time customers or with the coupon code RESFT5. I believe they ship all over the world. For regular retail price, you can find it on the Serge Lutens website for $120, and I assume it will remain there. From what I’ve read, the discontinuation seems only to apply to US retailers, not to the perfume as a whole and most certainly not at Lutens’ Paris headquarters or Lutens online. In terms of other retailers, Barney’s, Luckyscent and Aedes all carry the 1.7 oz/50 bottle for $120. In the UK, I found it listed at Harrods for £69.00. In Australia, I found it on the Australian StrawberryNet website where the 1.7 oz/50 ml bottle seems to be on sale for AUD $108.50 instead of AUD $117. I think there may be an additional 10% off at checkout, but I’m not certain. For other countries, you can use the Store Locator on the Lutens website.

Sample vials to test it out can be purchased at Surrender to Chance (where I bought mine) and start at $3.99 for a 1/2 ml vial. Surrender to Chance has the best shipping rates, in my opinion: $2.95 for orders of any size within the U.S.. Unfortunately, with the US Postal Service’s recent price increase, international shipping has now jumped from $5.95 to $12.95 for all international orders under $150. However, price increases for international shipping have occurred across the board at most other sites, too.

Perfume Review: Seville à L’Aube by L’Artisan Parfumeur

Posted on March 21, 2013 by Kafkaesque

There are perfumes that one should theoretically love but which, in reality, one simply cannot bear. Seville à L’Aube (Seville at Dawn) is one of those fragrances for me. A perfume that has sent the blogosphere into an utter tizzy, accompanied by a book of seemingly great sexiness, and a back-story of even greater romanticism, it is centered on one of my favorite notes: orange blossom. It is a perfume that would seem to be tailor-made for me. Ultimately, however, I couldn’t stand it. My personal perfume profile — and a particular note that I always struggle with — made Seville à L’Aube a very difficult experience for me.

Seville à L’Aube is a limited-edition eau de parfum released in 2012 and made for L’Artisan Parfumeur by the great Bertrand Duchaufour in conjunction with the writer and perfume blogger, Denyse Beaulieu of Grain de Musc. According to a quote from Ms. Beaulieu on Now Smell This, the perfume is supposed to represent one night in Seville and the start of a passionate affair between Ms. Beaulieu and her Spanish lover:

[Séville à l’aube] was inspired by one of the most beautiful nights in my life, in Seville during the Holy Week under an orange tree in full blossom, wrapped in incense smoke and the arms of a Spanish boy…

Fragrantica provides even more details on Ms. Beaulieu’s encounter:

I am in Seville, standing under a bitter orange tree in full bloom in the arms of Román, the black-clad Spanish boy who is not yet my lover. Since sundown, we’ve been watching the religious brotherhoods in their pointed caps and habits thread their way across the old Moorish town in the wake of gilded wood floats bearing statues of Christ and the Virgin Mary. […]

[The statue of the Madonna] is being carried into the golden whorls of a baroque chapel, smoothly manoeuvred in and out, in and out, in and out – they say the bearers get erections as they do this – while Román’s hand runs down my black lace shift and up my thigh to tangle with my garter-belt straps. […] I am in the pulsing, molten-gold heart of Seville, thrust into her fragrant flesh, and there is no need for Román to take me to bed at dawn: he’s already given me the night.

“The Perfume Lover.” US Edition.

Bravo! If the story doesn’t leave one heated and intent on trying the perfumed encapsulation of that night, then I have no idea what will. I certainly was keen to test the perfume, and the blogosphere’s gushing, often poetic reviews only strengthening that determination.

Denyse Beaulieu with her book. Source: The Perfume Magazine.

Things seemed to have reached a crescendo this week with the U.S. release of Ms. Beaulieu’s book, The Perfume Lover: A Personal History of Scent, which describes, in part, the process of creating Seville à L’Aube with Mr. Duchaufour. (Apparently, the book also covers quite a bit of Ms. Beaulieu’s sex life, according to an article in The New York Times yesterday.)

I wasn’t aware that the book’s release was this exact week (and I hadn’t intended to cover the perfume until next week), but I have been feeling unwell lately, so I thought my beloved orange blossoms would be the perfect antidote and pick-me-up. It wasn’t until I read the perfume’s notes that a flicker of worry crossed my mind. The notes as compiled from Lucky Scent and Now Smell This include:

Orange blossom, lavender, pink pepper, petitgrain, lemon tree leaves, jasmine, magnolia, beeswax, incense, Benzoin Siam, Luiseiri lavender.

You see, I really do not like lavender very much. I really, really do not. And Seville à L’Aube opens on my skin with a veritable tidal wave of dry, pungent, concentrated lavender, followed by bitter petitgrain and overwrought orange blossoms. I can tolerate lavender in small doses, but this degree of super-concentrated, intense lavender was well-nigh unbearable for me. It was akin to the most concentrated lavender oil, but with a particularly bitter, pungent, dry character. When combined with the equally bitter petitgrain (the distillation of the twigs from an orange blossom tree) and some incredibly peppery notes, the overall result passes into forcefully unpleasant territory.

The orange blossoms weren’t my salvation, either. Sometimes, orange blossoms can impart a faintly soapy undertone but — though there was just a hint of that here in the opening moments — the real issue for me was the impact of the other notes. They turned the orange blossom into something extremely dry with a definitely pungent, woody, almost herbaceous, peppery twist. There is some relief from the sweet magnolia flower which adds a soft, velvety, plush floral note with some fruity nuances — but not much. At this stage, it is predominantly lavender, bitterness, dryness, more lavender, and orange blossom.

Fifteen minutes later, the overpowering lavender has started to meld a little better with the orange blossom. The notes turn into one spicy-sweet accord with some pungent green notes, but it’s still an ordeal and I still struggle. As time passes, the lavender starts to recede a little, the orange blossom takes the lead and the perfume turns much sweeter.

Orange Blossom Syrup.

Except now, it is too sweet. Revoltingly so. I’m having strong flashbacks to Tom Ford‘s Neroli Portofino which I found to be a similarly excessive, cloyingly sweet, orange blossom scent. It’s as though the flower has been put on steroids, in both perfumes. And, frankly, there is something very unnatural and artificial about the extremeness. I am strongly reminded of the thick, concentrated orange blossom syrup used in Middle Eastern desserts — but amped up with aromachemicals. Just as with Neroli Portofino, Seville à L’Aube makes me feel physically queasy. (Perhaps I can’t handle perfumes that are essentially orange blossom soliflores?)

My intense queasiness and nausea continue for quite a long time, leaving me wondering if I shouldn’t just save myself and scrub this off. To be honest, the first time I tried Seville à L’Aube, I completely gave up but, since I had an appointment I couldn’t miss at the vet, I simply sprayed another perfume over it to be free of it.

The second time, however, I persevered and, around the 2.5 hour benchmark, the perfume finally became less of an ordeal. That unnatural, extreme and painfully cloying sweetness starts to slowly dissipate. Somewhat. The lavender has — thank God — retreated for the most part, to be replaced by a quiet note of beeswax and vanilla benzoin. Soft touches of jasmine lurk behind the orange blossom and there is also the advent of a subtly smoky base, though the incense is never more than a faint shimmer in the background. From the start, the perfume has always been incredibly airy and lightweight in feel, though also surprisingly strong and powerful. Now, near the 3 hour mark, it finally drops in sillage and power. It is still, however, far too sweet for my liking.

For the next seven hours, the perfume is predominantly orange blossom with some light vanillic benzoin. It’s an incredibly persistent, long-lasting scent. It’s not completely terrible; there are times when I even think I may like it. Then I remember that brutal opening — and shiver. I could never go through that again, but I fully recognise that my reaction is due to my own personal discomfort with some notes. That said, I really do think that the perfume is overly sweet by more than just my standards. I made two people sniff my arm, and both thought the same thing with one actually recoiling in aversion.

We’re not alone in that conclusion, though we are in the minority. Bloggers may generally (with some exceptions) adore Seville à L’Aube, but the reaction from general commentators is distinctly more mixed. On Fragrantica, a number of people mention the “cloying” nature of the perfume or how it is “a little nauseating.” (See, it’s not just me!) On Luckyscent, some of the reviews are equally unenthused:

urgh, not sure how I feel about this. Lots of orange blossom. Gives an impression of orange and green. It’s somehow too much, has a weird gourmand quality, like a big too-sweet meringue covered in candied flowers and orange leaves. Also a tiny trace of celery.

I so eagerly awaited a decant, only to discover this smells uncannily like Fruity Pebbles. The opening (as much as I could ascertain with my sample) is smoky and sexy with the sweetness of orange blossom but the dry down is straight Fruity Pebbles. I was really hoping for smoky holy days and my garters getting tangled.

I get a lot if benzoin in this one, and the same rooty, astringent carrot from Nuit de Tubereuse. The orange blossom note has a burned sugariness to it, so that it isn’t airy, but syrupy. Definitely a fall perfume.

The opening is a lively orange blossom composition with some unusual notes. But that lasts only a few minutes. The drydown is a sweet, fairly generic orange blossom cologne. It’s gone completely in 45 minutes on my skin, according to my housemates. There is one note in common with Nuit de Tubereuse that actually sears my nose briefly. No idea what the aromachemical is, but it can be a bit painful.

Oddly, there are a number of comparisons on the Luckyscent reviews to Nuit de Tubereuse which is also from Bertrand Duchaufour and L’Artisan Parfumeur. I couldn’t stand that one, truth be told, but I can’t see the similarities unless it’s in the area of unpleasant aromachemicals. I think Seville à L’Aube is a much better scent, relatively speaking — though given my feelings about Nuit de Tubereuse, I’m not sure that’s saying much.

I should also add that I know others who do not have issues with lavender but who, nonetheless, struggled with Seville à L’Aube. Some found it painfully dry at the start. A few found it “sour,” like my friend and fellow perfume blogger, The Scented Hound, who also described the perfume as “a cross between floor cleaner and sour shampoo,” and called it “purgatory.” One blogger, Almost au Naturel, suffered entirely different notes, summing up the scent as “funky, sexed up baby powder.” Though she ended up appreciating Seville à L’Aube for what it was, she begged people not to fall for the hype.

I definitely agree with that last conclusion. Don’t let the hype lead you to unrealistic expectations. If you love lavender, orange blossom and very sweet perfumes, then Seville à L’Aube may be one for you to consider. (However, the perfume is limited-edition and, with the advent of the U.S. edition of the book, it is even hotter than it was before, so I suggest you test it out very soon if you want to try to obtain a bottle.) For those who are less than enamoured of those notes, however, it may be “purgatory” and you might want to stick with reading the book.

DETAILS:

Seville à L’Aube is a limited-edition Eau de Parfum that is only available in a 100 ml/3.4 oz bottle. At the time of this post, the perfume is temporarily sold out on L’Artisan Parfumeur’s US website where it retails for $165 but it is available on the company’s UK website and costs £88.00. (The same price is listed on the Euro version of the site.) US buyers can also purchase the perfume from Luckyscent, though it is currently back-ordered and won’t ship out until April. The perfume is carried at Aedes de Venustas (along with the book, The Perfume Lover), but they too are currently sold out of the scent. In Europe, you can find the scent available at Ausliebezumduft where it retails for €105.00. If you’d like to try a sample, you can find Seville à L’Aube on Surrender to Chance where prices start at $4.49 for 1 ml vial.