Perfume Review – Tom Ford Private Blend Oud Wood: An Approachable Oud

Posted on February 6, 2013 by Kafkaesque

One might argue that Tom Ford ushered in the new dawn of oud fragrances — whether or not anyone wanted it — when he launched M7 for YSL fragrances in 2002. And, judging by the latter’s market bomb, no-one did want it. M7 was not just a trail-blazer and the first of its kind; it was also too original, unique, bold and, it seems, shocking for a world dominated by the freshness of (the revolting) Acqua di Gio. As I’ve discussed previously in my post on oud as the most popular, new trend in perfume, M7 was far ahead of its time.

When Tom Ford left YSL and began his own fashion line, it’s hardly surprising that he tried to remedy what may have been his first official failure. He returned to the oud well and launched Private Blend Oud Wood in 2007. Only, this time, he tried to make the oud (or agarwood) palatable, approachable and mild for the mainstream masses. (To read more about agarwood, you can turn to the Glossary, or to my post on the oud trend linked up above.)

And, he succeeded. Oud Wood is lovely and infinitely easy to wear, especially by the standards of many other agarwood fragrances in the market today. The reason is that — at the end of the day — Oud Wood is not a very oud fragrance at all. This is no nuclear Montale — a niche perfume house that has around 27 oud fragrances, all of which radiate post-apocalyptic intensity. And it’s not M7 either, a much sweeter, more potent, hard-core treatment of the subject. Though I’ve only tried the reformulated version of M7, I have to admit, I far preferred it to Tom Ford’s second foray into agarwood.

Oud Wood is a unisex perfume which Fragrantica categorizes as “Oriental Spicy.” On his website, Tom Ford describes it as follows:

Exotic Rose Wood and Cardamom, blended with exuberant Chinese Pepper, envelop the wearer in warmth. Eventually, the center exposes a smokey blend of rare Oud Wood, Sandalwood and Vetiver. Finally, the creamy scents of Tonka Bean, Vanilla and Amber are revealed.

The full set of notes according to Now Smell This (NST) are:

rosewood, cardamom, Chinese pepper, oud, sandalwood, vetiver, tonka bean, vanilla and amber.

Oud Wood opens softly. Extremely softly for a Tom Ford fragrance, if I might add. It may be the softest opening I’ve ever experienced for one of his perfumes — Private Blend or regular collection! The very first impression is of rose and sweet, nutty cardamom. It’s lovely. There is also Szechuan pepper, earthy vetiver, and hints of rich vanilla as if from a freshly cut Madagascar bean.

Following in their footsteps is the faintly medicinal tones of oud. There is no huge bite to the oud, and I don’t think it’s mutedness is due to the fact that it is covered by a veil of spice and sweetness. Even putting aside the unique nature of Montale’s fragrances, the oud here is different to others that I have smelled. For example, the By Kilian oud fragrances in the Arabian Nights collection range from cold, stony oud in Pure Oud to almost no oud at all in Amber Oud. Tom Ford’s Oud Wood may be closest to Rose Oud with its rose and soft agarwood, but there is still a difference that is hard to explain. It’s as if the oud has been hidden here such that it’s merely providing small cameo performances here or there. It’s not the star, but it’s also not one of the main supporting actors either.

Thirty minutes in, it remains a fragrance that is predominantly rose, cardamom and oud. The latter has become slightly more prominent now with a heavier element of camphor. Its chilly undertones provide a balance to the rose notes that are frequently present in oud fragrances. And the combination of oud with the nutty, aromatic, sweetness of cardamom is absolutely gorgeous. But, despite that, Oud Wood is still much less sweet, and much dryer, than the (reformulated) version of M7. And, frankly, I think I would have preferred a little more sweetness.

It’s around this time that there is an unexpected twist: I’m convinced I smell mocha! Something in the interplay of the nutty, sweet cardamom with the agarwood and the earthy rootiness of the vetiver has led to a strong impression of mocha ice cream. I’m an enormous fan of the latter, so I’m very happy (though somewhat perplexed). Yet, despite that surprise, Oud Wood isn’t a particularly complex or complicated fragrance. It doesn’t morph or fundamentally change in a huge way, but perhaps that’s why it’s such an easy fragrance to wear.

About two hours in, the vetiver starts to truly emerge and it remains prominent for the length of the perfume’s development. Oud Wood is now primarily a vetiver, cardamom and (vaguely) oud fragrance with the rose becoming increasingly fainter. At the three-hour mark, sandalwood makes its appearance, pushing the rose completely off the stage and blending with the vanilla, cardamom and the earthy vetiver in a truly lovely manner. At times, it seems as though Oud Wood is mainly a vanilla vetiver with hints of oud and spice. At other times, it’s mostly sandalwood with vetiver. The perfume fluctuates and undulates, showing just how well-blended it is.

“The Seine at Le Grande Jatte” by George Seurat.

Four hours in, the perfume is extremely close to the skin and predominantly sandalwood with vetiver. The latter is increasingly sweet, fresh and bright green, reminding me of the aromatic fragrancy of lemongrass more than anything earthy or dark. It’s lovely, especially when combined with the spiced creaminess of the sandalwood. There are faint traces of vanilla and tonka, and the oud occasionally pops up like a fleeting Jack in the Box, but those are all minor things. The dry-down is mostly just sandalwood and vetiver.

I’m truly taken aback by the moderate sillage and brevity of the perfume. The projection is surprisingly mild and tame for a Tom Ford fragrance. Even more surprising, it has an unusually shortest duration: around 5.5 hours on my skin. I know I have peculiar skin, but I’m not alone in this one. From the review on NST to comments on Fragrantica, a large number of people have noted the average (or, for a Tom Ford, extremely below-average) projection, softness and mildness of the fragrance. On Fragrantica, there are repeated comments about how Oud Wood simply doesn’t last. (It’s enough to make one convinced that Tom Ford intentionally went to the exact opposite extreme of every single thing he did with M7.)

My greater difficulty, and one which has made this review a struggle to write, is that Oud Wood is hard to get extremely excited about. Please don’t mistake me, it’s an absolutely lovely fragrance and, if I had a full bottle, I would wear it. In fact, I would probably wear it frequently! It’s versatile, easy, uncomplicated, rich-smelling and that sandalwood dry-down is simply delicious. Oud Wood may even be my second favorite Tom Ford Private Blend fragrance. (I shall have to ponder that one.)

But it’s simply not remarkable. It’s hard to muster up enormous excitement for what is — by today’s standards in particular — a very average oud. I’m not criticizing it for that, especially as “average” was the express goal! Tom Ford already did “remarkable,” and fell on his tush. Personally, I’m still obsessed with smelling un-reformulated, original M7 but, since both it and the reformulated version have been discontinued, I’m out of luck for the moment. (It sometimes appears on eBay, so there is always hope.)

For those of you who have been unsuccessful with agarwood thus far but who really want to find an accessible oud to try, Tom Ford’s Oud Wood should be right up your alley. It’s really just a spiced, vanilla, vetiver, woody fragrance that simply happens to have some oud in it. It’s neither particularly sweet nor masculine. But it’s infinitely wearable, far from potent, very approachable, and utterly delicious at times. For those of you who have been previously traumatized by the bullying or “frat boy” aspects of some Tom Fords, you too may have better luck with this one. But if you’ve had greater exposure to the plethora of ouds on the market or are looking for a true agarwood fragrance, then this may be too tame for you.

DETAILS:

Cost & Availability: Private Blend Oud Wood is an eau de parfum, and is available on the Tom Ford website where it retails for: $205 for a 50 ml/1.7 oz bottle, $280 for a 100 ml/3.4 oz bottle or $495 for a 200 ml/8.45 oz bottle. In the US, you can also find it at fine department stores such as Nordstrom, Neiman Marcus, Saks Fifth Avenue, Bergdorf Goodman, and others. In the UK, you can find it at Harrods where it sells for £195.00 for a 100 ml bottle or £300.00 for the super-large 250 ml bottle. (They are either sold out of the small 50 ml bottle or else, it’s not listed despite an initial reference to 50 ml on the main page for Oud Wood.) The smaller size is carried at Selfridges where it costs £135.00. Tom Ford Beauty doesn’t seem to be carried by retailers in France, but it is in many European nations from Denmark and Belgium to the Russian Federation. You can use the store locator on the website to find a retailer near you. In Australia, the Tom Ford line is supposedly carried at David Jones stores, but Oud Wood is not one of the 16 Tom Ford fragrances carried on the David Jones website. Elsewhere, Tom Ford fragrances are carried in numerous different countries; hopefully, you can find one near you using the store locator on the Tom Ford website.

Samples: You can find samples of Private Blend Oud Wood starting at $3 on Surrender to Chance, or on other decant/sample sites like The Perfumed Court. I think Surrender to Chance has the best shipping: $2.95 for any order, no matter the size, within the U.S. Unfortunately, international shipping has leapt up in price (from $5.95) due to the U.S. Postal Service’s recent (and large) price increases. It is now $12.95 for most orders going overseas. (It is a wee bit higher if your order is over $150.)

Perfume Review – Guerlain Angelique Noire: A House of Mirrors

Posted on February 5, 2013 by Kafkaesque

Angelique Noire from Guerlain is unusual. It takes the classic Guerlain signature, up-ends it, and then sticks it in a house of mirrors. You see constant reflections of past Guerlain perfumes beckoning to you through a long hallway, but the reflections are changed, faintly distorted, sweetened, and modernized.

House of Mirrors.
Source: The Consumerist Blog.

It’s not only that Angelique Noire takes a gourmand approach to past classics, but also the fact that the famous Guerlain signature at the base end of the fragrance — the Guerlainade — has been brought out at the very start of the fragrance. Furthermore, it has been twisted around. It’s been made more concentrated, more herbal, bitter and green. It’s as though Guerlain decided to play with its usual pyramid of notes with a bit of a wink and a tongue-in-cheek grin. That cheeky sense of humour also extends to the name since Angelique Noire is the furthest thing possible from a “noir” perfume! (If anything, it evokes creamy vanilla and beige, with dashes of green and brown.) At all times, however, it is an extremely rich, elevated take on the modern fad for gourmand scents.

Gold-beaded chandelier encircling the fragrance display in the 2005 renovation of the Guerlain's flagship Paris boutique. Source: Interior Design.net

Gold-beaded chandelier encircling the fragrance display in the 2005 renovation of Guerlain’s flagship Paris boutique.
Source: Interior Design.net

Angelique Noire is part of Guerlain’s exclusive L’Art et La Matière collection which was launched in 2005 to celebrate the opening of Guerlain’s renovated headquarters in Paris. The collection’s name means Art and (raw) Materials, and represents Guerlain’s goal of creating olfactory Art through the use of the finest raw materials in perfumery. As Fragrantica further explains, “L’Art et la Matière” is also:

a pun after the French expression L’Art et la Manière – the art and manners. Three famous noses were invited to work on the perfumes using the highest quality materials. The perfumes were launched in 2005.

Angélique Noire is the third fragrance of the series, created by Daniela Andrièr. It was an attempt to reproduce the famous compositions of the house. Sweet and strong beginning with spices and piquant freshness of bergamot is mixing with milky bitterness of almond and vanilla notes. Unusual harmony of the fresh bergamot and sweet vanilla is a trademark of classical compositions of Guerlain. Spicy harshness of the beginning is contrasting creamy and sweet base which includes mildly spicy and sugary notes of angelica.

On its website, Guerlain describes the scent as follows:

A DISCONCERTING HARMONY WITH A BEWITCHING VOLUPTUOUSNESS

Notwithstanding the humble appearance of its clusters of small flowers, angelica is thought to be an elixir promoting longevity. Guerlain elevates this understated raw material to noble rank. In Angélique Noire, the sincerity and freshness of the angelica find a luminous echo in the bergamot, before coming to fruition in the smooth, feminine sweetness of the vanilla. The fragrance comes in a spray bottle with sleek, contemporary lines. One side is ornamented with a gold plate like a talisman.

The notes for the perfume are as follows:

Top : Angelica seeds, pink berries, pear. 
Heart : jasmine sambac, caraway. 
Base : vanilla, angelica roots, cedar.

Source: MedicinalHerbInfo.Org

To understand the perfume, you have to understand angelica itself. It’s a green plant with big white or yellow flowers, and is cultivated for its sweetly scented edible stems and roots. I’ve read that angelica is also known as “Wild Celery” because it shares a similar aroma to the vegetable. But other accounts describe no such thing. Some call its aroma sweetly spiced and honeyed, while others describe it as bitter and green. Wikipedia says that angelica has “a pervading aromatic odour” that differs from the rest of its cousins in the same plant family (fennel, parsley, anise, caraway or chervil). “One old writer compares it to musk, others liken it to juniper.” In short, it’s pungent, green, brown, spicy, sweet, bitter and a whole host of contradictory things that make it extremely hard to describe to someone who hasn’t smelled it!

Angelica is the key to Angelique Noire because its different aspects run throughout every stage of the perfume. At times, it can be positively dizzying and overwhelming. In its opening seconds, I smell pear, bitter green, powdered vanilla, some sort of root-y woody note and then pink-peppered florals. The florals are hard to pinpoint at this stage and they are very subtle, as is the hint of cedar dancing around the edges. And then, the angelica arrives on the scene. The note is huge, monstrously big, bitter, green and yet, faintly earthy and woody brown at the same time. It well-nigh blows my head off and I keep my arm at a distance. Waves of angelica pulsate out at me, along with that famous Guerlain signature, the Guerlainade, that underlies all their fragrances at the very base and final hours. Only here, it’s Guerlainade on steroids and amped up a thousand degrees.

Source: US Forest Service

I recoil faintly from the combined intensity of the super-saturated powdered vanilla and the bitter, pungent, almost medicinal herb-y green of the angelica. It’s an incredibly odd twist to make the Guerlainade front and center, not to mention the added element of the angelica. I have an impression of an English meadow in Spring — all white (vanilla and angelica blossoms) and green (sweet, ripe Anjou pears and fruits). But, looming in the corner, its shadow getting larger and larger, is the dark green of bitter angelica stems and the brown of the more earthy root.

Source: TheTorchOnline.com

As the minutes progress, the scent becomes more powdery and sweet. And, to my disbelief, the angelica seems become even stronger! The combination as a whole feels like King Kong on the Empire State Building, swiping away planes in the sky as if they were gnats. As someone on Fragrantica noted, it “comes at you like a knife blade.” The whole thing is one enormous dichotomy and I will be frank, it was a bloody difficult thirty minutes the very first time I tried it! The second and third time, however, I was prepared for the brutal onslaught — and I think that made all the difference. I could appreciate the unusual, original twist on both the Guerlainade and on vanilla itself. I could smell the layers and the complexity, and I found them somewhat intriguing.

It’s an opening which seems to result in very split opinions: many adore it and its uniqueness, lamenting when it fades into something more manageable; others feel utterly blown away by it (and not in a good way). But one thing is certain: it’s unusual, different, creative and a bit provocative. You merely have to brace yourself for that very initial exposure, and give it more than one shot!

Vanilla Custard.
Source: Sacchef’s Blog.

Once you’re over that initial hurdle, Angelique Noire mellows into a very different fragrance. The angelica recedes, and is no longer bitter or bullying but, instead, almost candied. The vanilla note starts to become much more prominent, as does that of sweet, ripe Anjou pears. But it is the vanilla which is interesting. At times in the first 90 minutes, it almost replicates a herbed vanilla cupcake! For the most part, however, it’s much creamier than any cupcake. It’s more like a smooth, rich vanilla custard, or like sweetened Carnation condensed milk.

Source: The Soap Seduction blog, July 2011.

Then, the truly lovely part begins. Angelique Noire takes on notes of bergamot (as in Early Grey tea) and almonds. I love almond scents, and find them endlessly comforting and soothing. Here, it is rich, not faint or milky — but it’s not strong or constant enough for my liking. It waltzes with the much stronger Earl Grey, sometimes apparent, sometimes flickering just out of sight. It’s a bit frustrating for one who adores both notes, and I wish they were stronger to alleviate the increasing sweetness of the perfume.

Soon, Jasmine Sambac joins the party. It is a muskier, richer, almost earthier version of the flower. The combination of the jasmine sambac, the musk undertones, and the very honeyed, custard-like vanilla now emanating from Angelique Noire strongly evokes the base of Guerlain’s L’Instant. I have a bottle of the eau de parfum from 2006, and the similarities are striking at times. But, like a long hall of mirrors, the evocation of other Guerlain perfumes does not stop there. Shalimar Eau Légère is another perfume that people think it resembles, though Angelique Noire is richer, in my opinion. And, then, there are those who wonder if Angelique Noire will become the new Shalimar, or a Shalimar for the modern era with its leanings towards greater sweetness and simplicity. I think that goes too far! (Nothing so gourmand can, or should, ever overtake a great, complex classic like Shalimar.)

In its final hours, Angelique Noire turns into spiced sugar, bergamot and vanilla. There really isn’t a lot to say beyond that. It’s not powdery like the usual Guerlainade accord, probably because all the powder was loaded upfront. There are traces of the angelica in a candied form in the sugar, but they are subtle. There are also minute traces of the musk that continue to linger on the skin.

All in all, Angelique Noire lasted just under 7 hours on my perfume-consuming skin. On Fragrantica, many report it lasting the entire day. The sillage was enormous in the first hour — at times, a too enormous for my liking, given that opening. Afterwards, it had heavy to good projection, becoming close to the skin only about four hours in.

I was lucky to obtain my sample from a lovely, very generous friend who went to the Guerlain boutique, sniffed everything, became mesmerized by Angelique Noire, and couldn’t help buying a bottle right there and then! Given that it costs $250, that is real love indeed. But, ultimately, Angelique Noire is not for me. For one thing, I’m starting to wonder if angelica may be one of my no-no ingredients. For another, I am not generally drawn to gourmand perfumes. When I fall for a very sweet scent, it comes with so much spice and dryness that it isn’t a true dessert fragrance. For me, Angelique Noire is far too sweet, but that doesn’t mean I can’t appreciate its well-blended, high quality, unusual aspects.

Others appreciate it, too. The “seductive” scent is much-loved on Fragrantica and elsewhere. If you’re tempted, but also a bit alarmed by my descriptions of the angelica, then you may want to pay heed to the comments of “Alfiecronin” who wrote on Fragrantica:

Give this fragrance a second (or third) chance! It is worth it. The first whiff brings a blast of angelica flower–very strong. Admittedly, this is not the best part of the composition. Wait 20 minutes and you will discover a delicious vanilla, delicately mixed with floral notes that lasts and lasts. Many times I have watched others spray, whiff, jump back and declare, “I don’t like this!” And then come back an hour later and say that this is just wonderful, what is it called? In my opinion, one of only 2 in the L ‘Art et la Matière collection worth buying for a woman, the other being Cruel Gardenia.

There is no doubt that Angelique Noire is a very sophisticated interpretation of vanilla. It is infinitely wearable, rich, very unisex, and a very creative entry in the highly saturated gourmand field. If you like sweet vanilla scents, you may want to give Angelique Noire a try. Or two. Or three….

DETAILS:

Cost & Availability: Angelique Noire costs $250 for 2.5 fl. oz/75 ml. It is available at Guerlain boutiques, and on its website. In the US, it is also available on the Nordstrom, Saks Fifth Avenue, Neiman Marcus and Bergdorf Goodman website. (With the exception of Bergdorf Goodman which definitely carries the more exclusive line of Guerlain fragrances in-store, I don’t know if it is available within the other shops themselves.) For all other countries, you can use Guerlain’s Store Locator on its website. If you’d like to give Angelique Noir a test sniff, you can get a sample from Surrender to Chance where prices start at $4.99 for half of a 1 ml vial.

Perfume Review – L’Artisan Parfumeur Safran Troublant: Saffron Delight

Posted on February 4, 2013 by Kafkaesque

Swirls of dark orange from the most expensive spice in the world combine with the rich red of candied roses, the canary-yellow of creamy, custardy vanilla, and the sweet browns of cardamom to result in an instant reaction: “Heaven!”

Safrant Troublant.
Source: Olibanum WordPress Blog.

Actually, at first, I just gave a faint moan upon smelling Safran Troublant from the French niche house of L’Artisan Parfumeur. That doesn’t happen often. Incoherent babblings of joy, and mutterings of “Heaven,” followed soon thereafter. The name may translate to “troubling” or “disturbing” saffron, but this is one completely comforting, absolutely delicious fragrance that is perfect for those of you who prefer your perfume to be discreet and unobtrusive. Those of you who prefer more sillage will be disappointed, however. And, all of you should take serious note of its fleeting nature.

Safran Troublant is a unisex, spicy oriental eau de toilette that was created by the famous nose, Olivia Giacobetti, and released in 2002. L’Artisan Parfumeur‘s website describes it as follows:

A potent portrayal of candied roses; alluring and just a little dangerous

Safran Troublant is an unsettling and potent portrait of a candied rose. The sensuality is heightened with the addition of sandalwood and spicy ginger notes. This makes for a seductive and unexpected fragrance, where the saffron serves to highlight the sheer opulence of the rose. Beautiful and a little dangerous to wear.

The notes are:

saffron, red rose, vanilla, ginger and sandalwood.

As a side observation, Fragrantica is flat-out incorrect in its summation of the perfume. First, they have continuously listed Bertrand Duchaufour as the nose behind its creation, despite numerous comments correcting them. They also seem off on the notes, since they insist on listing “passion fruit flower” when no-one — least of all the company itself — has given any such indication or has smelled any passion fruit.

Sholeh Zard.
Source: FoodandFarsi.com

The opening of Safran Troublant will be familiar to any of you who have had Indian or Persian saffron-rice desserts. “Sholeh Zard” is a Persian rice pudding with saffron, rose, cardamom and nuts. Its Indian counterpart is “Kheer” or “Payasam.” They’re both utterly addictive, though I personally think the Persian one is significantly heavier on the saffron which is probably why its colour is bright canary-yellow, whereas the Indian version is not. For a wonderful discussion of both saffron and Sholeh Zard, as well as recipe for how to make it, check out Food & Farsi, The Spice Spoon, or the other sites linked in the photos. (But don’t do it if you’re hungry. Really, I warn you. I learnt the hard way, and now I’m famished…)

Safran Troublant’s first minutes are a swirling delight of sugared rose: deep, dark and candied, but richer than anything in mere rose water. This is no cloying, saccharine-sweet tea-rose but a darker, heavier floral. It’s sugared and spiced, making this a great perfume for those who have problems with more traditional or girly rose perfumes. The sweet, almost nutty warmth of the cardamom combines with the almost peppered, earthy sweetness of the saffron to provide a richness to the perfume’s foundation.

Sholeh Zard.
Source: Foodival.com

The vanilla here is incredibly lush. This is no cupcake vanilla or, even, the vanilla of bottled extract. It evokes tapioca pudding: creamy, heavy, and utterly unctuous. And it’s thick like the brightest, yellow egg custard!

About five minutes in, there is a strong hint of cumin. However, unlike many of my other experiences with the note, it’s not really earthy and never “skanky.” It just adds another layer of earthiness and spice to counter the sweetness of the scent. The ginger starts to make a greater appearance at this time, too. It’s not sharp or bitter but, rather, almost candied.

Saffron.
Source: FoodandFarsi.com

Neither note, however, is the true star of the perfume. That role is taken almost entirely by the glorious saffron which remains throughout the duration of the scent. It’s heady, rich, compulsively sniffable, and makes Safran Troublant far more than a simple vanilla or gourmand scent. It is absolutely the best parts of this lovely perfume.

Unfortunately, one of the worst parts is Safran Troublant’s fleeting nature. On one arm, where I put on my usual number of dabs, the perfume vanished entirely within ten minutes. Yes, TEN minutes! I’d read one commentator say that the perfume disappeared on her within minutes of application, but I thought that had to be an exaggeration — even for the typically light, ephemeral L’Artisan line. Apparently, not. On my other arm, however, where I had trebled the dosage due to my utter love for the fragrance, it was a different story. The perfume’s sillage dropped by about 85% within ten minutes but, to my surprise, the perfume itself remained. I can’t quite account for the differences but, clearly, one needs a lot of the perfume for it to stay even as a discreet skin scent.

And it is most definitely discreet! Far, far too discreet for my personal preferences but, for those of you who don’t like intrusive scents or who can’t always find perfumes appropriate for a strict work-environment, it should be utterly perfect. Well, assuming it lasts on you…..

The main criticism of this much-loved scent is its fleeting nature. You all know that I have skin that is incredibly voracious when it comes to perfume, but we’re talking about normal people here! From Fragrantica to Makeupalley, there are endless comments about how Safran Troublant barely lasts. Many give four hours as the maximum, while others give significantly less. The one review I mentioned above about how it lasted mere minutes came from “Goddess Dreams” on Makeupalley who wrote:

Well, well, well, now I too know what it’s like to have a scent that now you smell and then two seconds later “poof” and it is completely GONE! Where did it go? I’d love to know! But my, I love it so much, why did it have to leave so soon? This is ridicilous, I mean I sprayed it on, no joke a good spray I gave it too, but I’m talking within minutes (I was still at the L’Artisan counter and it was GONE – not slowly withered away – GONE ALL AT ONCE WITHOUT A TRACE). But, oh while it was there, for that charming special moment that it lingered on my skin – that was wonderful. I would have paid any money had it lasted only a touch, but my chemistry made NOTHING out of this. While it was there however, magical it was!

Again, on me, the scent remained on the one arm where I splashed it on heavily but, even there, it lasted a mere four hours. And I could smell it only if I brought my nose right up to arm. Still, what a glorious few hours it was. The notes didn’t alter in any way from what they were at the start — this is hardly a complex perfume that morphs and shifts with every hour — and I’m uncertain as to whether there is sandalwood in any significant amount, but the scent was hauntingly beautiful. It’s well-blended, too, and definitely unisex — though it think it may lean a wee more towards the feminine side for men who aren’t enormous fans of rose fragrances.

If I thought Safran Troublant would last in any way on me without constant re-spritzing, I would put aside my usual issues regarding discreet perfumes that are mere skin scents, and buy it immediately. However, at $145 a bottle, it’s a little too expensive for me to be re-applying it every few hours in gallopingly great, hefty doses. Still, I urge you to try it if you can. This is a scent that should appeal to everyone from those who like spiced florals or gourmand fragrances, to those who need low sillage perfumes for the workplace. And, with Valentine’s Day on the horizon, it is a particularly good choice for those who love rose fragrances. Frankly, it may be true love for many — regardless of the date in question.

DETAILS:

You can find Safran Troublant on the L’Artisan Parfumeur website where it costs $145 for a large 3.4 oz/100 ml bottle. No other size is offered, and the perfume only comes in Eau de Toilette concentration. Elsewhere, you can find it at Barneys, Beauty Encounter, or Lucky Scent. Though Sephora now carries the L’Artisan line, this is not one of the seven L’Artisan scents they offer. The same thing applies to Harrods which carries 24 of the brands’ fragrances, but not this one for some inexplicable reason. I also couldn’t find it on Neiman Marcus, Aedes or Nordstrom’s websites where, if it was shown at all, it was listed as “out of stock” (with pricing that was clearly from years ago). However, you can easily obtain samples from Lucky Scent at the link shown above, or at Surrender to Chance where prices start at $3.99 for a 1ml vial.

Perfume Review – Roberto Cavalli Eau de Parfum: My Guilty Pleasure

Posted on February 2, 2013 by Kafkaesque

When you’re constantly writing about perfume, when you’re always testing something and have to concentrate on every nuance, every flickering whisper, every change over hours and hours, the end result is that you often turn to something uncomplicated, happy and comforting as your own personal choice. Mine happens to be a bit of a guilty pleasure, a scent that a perfume snob would probably recoil from in horror and disdain. I simply don’t care. I’m coming out of the perfume closet with my absolute favorite embarrassing love: Roberto Cavalli Eau de Parfum, the signature scent of the Italian fashion designer, Roberto Cavalli.

Roberto Cavalli Eau de Parfum (hereinafter “Roberto Cavalli”) came out in February 2012. Some months later, I stumbled upon it while browsing in Sephora. I sprayed it, blinked, sprayed more, and deeply inhaled with a faint moan. I went home and couldn’t stop sniffing my arm. A few days later, I went to Ulta and, there it was again, beckoning to me like some orange-blossom siren in a Roberto Cavalli silk dress. I resisted. (Just barely.) I went home, read a number of snotty reviews on it, but couldn’t stop thinking about the scent. A week later, I caved. That night, I positively doused myself in the perfume and announced on Facebook that I smelled so good, I …. Well, never mind what I said. Suffice it to say, it made me feel like a siren and a slithering panther, all in one. And that was before I watched the video!

Roberto Cavalli is classified as floral oriental on Fragrantica, but I think it would be more accurate to call it a fruity-floral Oriental. The Cavalli website describes it as follows:

“A luminous and sexy print” – Roberto Cavalli.

The Roberto Cavalli perfume belongs to the ambery floral family. It is an exuberant and sunny fragrance whose top notes, lit by pink peppers, exude a genuine strength of character. Vibrant and sensual, it exhilarates and mesmerises from the very first contact.

At the heart of the Roberto Cavalli perfume one finds all the majesty of the absolute of orange blossom. It is a colour as much as a scent that reveals an ultra-feminine trail and leaves no-one indifferent.

This sensuality finally wraps itself into the captivating base notes of the tonka beans that leaves an appetizing imprint on the skin… essentially addictive.

Louise Turner, perfumer at Givaudan, created the Roberto Cavalli signature fragrance.

I’ve read some differing notes for the perfume. Fragrantica adds benzoin to the base and says the tonka bean is toasted. Macy’s, for some reason, adds Mirabelle plum in the base. So, the notes — to put it in a clearer form and as compiled — seem to be:

Top: Pink Peppercorn.
Middle: Orange Blossom Absolute
Bottom: Toasted Tonka Bean, Benzoin & Mirabelle Plum.

The only review I could find for Roberto Cavalli from a (primarily) perfume blog came from Angela at Now Smell This. She most definitely did not share my passion for the perfume which she calls Roberto Cavalli “For Her.” (A number of people and websites do call the perfume “For Her,” and I realise it can be quite confusing, but the name on Cavalli’s own website is simply “Roberto Cavalli.”) In a scathing review, she found the opening to be unoriginal but, still, it was okay: it was “juicy, fresh, and warm. This is the first impression that sells a thousand bottles.” And she loved the bottle — which is probably just as well for Roberto Cavalli since he spent a lot of money making a whole video to show it off.

But then came the bad part of her review:

After fifteen minutes comes the deal breaker: a wave of the nauseating, bug-spray woody musk that dominates way too many new releases often positioned as neo-chypres. It’s the one smell in perfume that gives me a headache. The woody musk is hard to describe, but if you’ve smelled it, you’ll know what I mean. It smells synthetic and stifling, like a mohair sweater sprayed with Raid and swathed in hot Saran wrap.

The comments to her post are almost entirely from people who haven’t smelled the perfume and who went on to have fun imagining a thousand different ways that this could have been a better fragrance. That’s perfectly fine. We all do it when reading a negative review. (And, honestly, who wouldn’t with a review like that quoted up above?!!) The thing is, months later, when people had actually smelled the perfume, a number of people wrote about how much they loved it.

And that love is shared on Fragrantica too, where the comments are overwhelmingly positive. (All the talk about it being “heavenly” and “falling in love” may explain why the perfume is frequently sold out on a number of different sites, as the details at the end of my post will show). On MakeupAlley, the 6 reviews are more mixed. Some find the scent to be very ’80s and dated, while others say that it is a lovely romantic scent that is reminiscent of Amarige but without the latter’s harshness. And a number detect something akin to tuberose, frangipani, sandalwood and/or amber.

I think all those comments are quite astute and correct to an extent — minus the NST bug spray comparison — but I would love Roberto Cavalli no matter what people said. It opens with a huge burst of African orange blossom. It’s massive, immediate, undeniable — and I adore it, especially in conjunction with the pink peppercorn that trails behind it like a handmaiden. There are strong undertones of peach, honeysuckle, tonka bean, musk, and something that smells like fake sandalwood. More subtle is the hint of plum that dances in the background. The orange blossom has, on different occasions, a light soapy aspect that always surprises me whenever it pops up. I shouldn’t like it, or even the occasionally synthetic note, but I do. (Probably because I don’t smell anything that Angela at NST did!)

Plus, the “synthetic” notes aren’t of the variety that I’m used to and normally recoil from. There is none of that extreme burning sensation or tightness in the bridge of my nose which is always a dead giveaway (to me) of synthetics and the precursor to an inevitable headache. This isn’t the same sort of sharply synthetic note that utterly felled me in Frederic Malle‘s Lipstick Rose and made me scrub it off less than two hours in, perfume review be damned. It’s not even the synthetic note which drove me to whimpering agony in Illuminum‘s White Gardenia Petals, in Montale‘s Aouds, or in my two extremely painful forays into the L’Artisan Parfumeur line. (If nothing else, those examples should show you that synthetics are not limited to mass-market brands!) No, in Roberto Cavalli, it’s something else which I can’t quite pinpoint, but which doesn’t seem very real.

And, yet, I don’t care one whit! There is a cocooning, enveloping warmth to the perfume that takes me to an orchid in a warm Mediterranean climate, like Sicily perhaps, where the air is heavy with the narcotically heady orange blossoms that I adore so much. The orchid is filled with peach trees that lie low to the ground, heavy and overburdened with ripened fruit that beg to be eaten. I take a bite and, as the juice dribbles down my chin, the sweetness is almost as thick as the honey I smell. It’s a swirl of intense orange blossom, peach and honey with spiced amber and musk. Up ahead, I see plums and honeysuckle trees, beckoning. I’m transported there on a wave of ambered sweetness, emanating from warmly toasted, roasted tonka beans, and sensuous musk. Yes, there may be a bug or two hovering amidst the musk, but it is only a microscopic gnat, barely visible in the shimmer of sensuality that hovers above my skin. Plus, it may be just my imagination after having read the NST review.

As time progresses there is a buttery feel to the flowers which envelop me. They are indolic and heady but, on me, never verging on sour, plastic-y, or rotting fruit. (See the Glossary for an explanation of indoles and how indolic scents can turn on some skin.) I can see how some may wonder if there is tuberose or amber in the fragrance; it certainly feels like it sometimes. There is also an exuberant, bouncy, sunny feel to the scent that explains the comparisons to the poor, much maligned, notorious Amarige, a floral powerhouse fragrance which has been pilloried in the court of public opinion. But Roberto Cavalli is much spicier, much warmer and much more ambered, especially in its dry-down. And it’s actually not as heady, powerful or rich as Amarige. I’m not quite sure how Angela at NST found this to be a twist on a modern chypre, as I think it’s pure floral oriental.

My perfume cocoon is huge at first, pulsating its way about two to three feet ahead of me, but its intensity lasts only for the first 30 minutes, before becoming more moderate for another three hours. (On Fragrantica, the sillage is categorized as “moderate,” too.) Around the third hour, Roberto Cavalli becomes much closer to the skin, but the perfume lasts like a silken sheath over my skin. Hours and hours later, my orchid walk is at an end. It was a very long walk — perhaps 9 hours all in all– with the remaining three hours being very simple ones. A quiet path of peach, orange, amber and vanilla benzoin.

Few perfumes are so consistently easy, uncomplicated, comforting and “happy” for me to wear. It requires little thought or effort. When I’m worn out by deducing notes in intellectually challenging works of art (like many Serge Lutens fragrances), when I’m tired of thinking about perfume and just want to wear the bloody thing, Roberto Cavalli is often what I reach for. I wouldn’t say that Roberto Cavalli is a scent that demonstrates the highest-quality pure oils or ingredients, but I simply don’t care. It is exuberant, energizing, happy, and lush. I particularly love to wear it at night, after a long day and a hot bath, when I’m comfy in my pajamas and about to vegetate before some television show that I’m too tired to really watch with any focus. And, yet, despite the coziness of such a scenario, Roberto Cavalli always makes me feel deeply sexy. It’s a scent that calls out for the sheerest of silks and satins, and seduction in the boudoir.

It is not, however, a scent for everyone. Those who prefer light, airy, clean or fresh scents should stay far, far away. This is far too rich, indolic and heady for them. For those who love complicated, more nuanced, more high-end luxury scents, this isn’t for you, either. In fact, ideally, you would ALL stay away from Roberto Cavalli, so that I can be the only woman in the world to smell like this. My guilty pleasure. All mine.

Do you have a secret, guilty pleasure perfume? If so, what do you love about it?

DETAILS:

Cost: The perfume is available in a variety of different sizes and prices. Roberto Cavalli comes in a 1.0 oz/30 ml bottle that costs $48 or £35.00, but which I’ve only seen available on the Robert Cavalli website, not in stores. It is also available in a 1.7 oz/50 ml bottle that costs $65 or £48.00. Finally, it comes in a 2.5 oz/75 ml bottle that costs $85, but that size may be limited only to the US website and US stores. There is also an accompanying body lotion and shower gel, if you’re interested. The Roberto Cavalli website is a bit tricky to navigate, so I’ve broken it down. The perfume section of the US website for Roberto Cavalli can be found here. The UK version is here. There are also about 40 different countries for which Roberto Cavalli has product information and pricing, and you can find that section of the website here.

Availability & Locations: In the US, the 1.7 oz size is available at Sephora, but it is currently (and very often) sold out on the website! Also sold out is the $22 roller-ball in a 0.2 oz size. It is available on the Saks Fifth Avenue, Nordstrom, Bloomingdale’s and Macy’s websites in both larger sizes (1.7 oz and 2.5 oz), along with some special gift box deal at the latter. I don’t know if it is available in all the actual stores, though. A reader just informed me that Nordstrom no longer carries the line in its brick-and-mortar sites, though it is listed on the website. The perfume is also no longer carried by Ulta or, at least, it’s not on its website. However, if all else fails, it seems to be carried on Amazon. In the UK, Roberto Cavalli is available at Debenhams and Harrods. In France, I found Roberto Cavalli listed on the Printemps website, but no indication as to whether that included the perfume along with the clothes. I couldn’t find it on Gallerie Lafayette, but Roberto Cavalli has his own stores in Paris and France which should carry it. In Australia, I found it listed on Adore Beauty where the prices start at AUD$80 for the smallest size (1.0z/30 ml), but all sizes and all accompanying products are completely sold out! For all other countries, you can turn to the Cavalli website.