Les Néréides Patchouli Antique (Patchouli Précieux)

Source: worldofstock.com

Source: worldofstock.com

A keepsake memento box made of cedar, left in a dusty old attic, only to be found and doused with rum and cognac, then to transform as if by alchemy to something quite different. That is part of the journey you take with Patchouli Antique from Les Néréides, a French perfume house that initially started in the world of expensive, high-end costume jewelry before branching out into perfume. Their fragrances represent their overall ethos of the most basic, simple ingredients, presented in the most refined manner. They eschew expensive or fancy bottling, preferring to opt for a minimalistic aesthetic, both to appearance and, to some degree, the perfume itself.

Patchouli Antique or, Patchouli Précieux, as it is now known.

Patchouli Antique or, Patchouli Précieux, as it is now known.

Patchouli Antique (or Patchouli Précieux as it has now been renamed) embodies that aesthetic for much of its journey, though its opening is wonderfully complex and nuanced. The fragrance is an eau de toilette that is classified as an “Oriental Woody” on Fragrantica, and its notes are not complicated according to most sites. Luckyscent says that they are nothing more than:

Indonesian patchouli, Vanilla, and musk.

However, one French retailer provides something very different. Olivolga describes Patchouli Antique as follows:

Patchouli Antique becomes Patchouli Précieux, the perfume is the same.

The story of Patchouli Précieux: The soothing scent of rich, clean earth freshened by rain. This is the loamy soil of an enchanted hillside at dusk as you lay in the grass and watch the clouds. The opening is very intense, but give it a moment and the trademark gentle touch of Les Nereides becomes apparent. The patchouli retains its earthiness, but becomes soft and deep, melding with layers of pillowy vanilla and smooth musk to create a dreamy landscape … Bewitching!

Base: patchouli, cedar wood, sandalwood, vanilla, musk
Head: sweet orange, green note
Middle: Gurjum balm, scots pine

Source: footage.shutterstock.com

Source: footage.shutterstock.com

Patchouli Antique opens on my skin with a rich cocktail of notes. It is a blend of sweet, chewy, dusty, slightly medicinal, red-brown patchouli with booziness, followed by tobacco and a subtle whisper of leather. It is patchouli in all its true splendour with a spicy, sweet, smoky character that also has subtle touches of green, woody dryness, and dark resinous amber. The amorphous “boozy” note soon turns into something delineated and distinct, as both a fruited rum and a very aged, nutty cognac. Yet, the whole top bouquet is paradoxically filled with antique dust and old woods. Patchouli Antique smells much like an old cedar memory chest stuck in a dusty attic for years, then doused by a pirate’s stash of booze.

Source: cigarettezoom.com

Source: cigarettezoom.com

Patchouli Antique is initially very strong, but it quickly softens to become a beautiful blend of dark notes that envelops you in a small cloud. The rum smells as though it was seeped in juicy, Seville oranges. Though the fruity note is quickly subsumed by the patchouli, dusty, and smoky woods, it pops up occasionally to counter the dryness of the perfume’s base. The tobacco is simply lovely, and may be one of my favorite parts of Patchouli Antique’s opening. It smells just like the rich, fragrant, very fruited pipe tobacco that my uncle used. There is also a subtle leatheriness underlying the scent, but it’s burnished, aged, and completely doused by cognac. The overall blend is faintly similar to Oriza L. Legrand‘s Horizon patchouli, but Les Nereides’ version is much richer and more complex.

Source: thejewelerblog.wordpress.com

Source: thejewelerblog.wordpress.com

Ten minutes in, Patchouli Antique is like a dark topaz stone made from boozy patchouli and dry, dusty cedar, throwing off rich nuances of leather and sweet pipe tobacco like little, brown rays. There is the faintest hint of creamy vanilla lurking deep down below, but it is subtle at this point. The whole thing lies nestled in a smoky, resinous, slightly green cocoon that was initially quite muted, but which suddenly rises to the surface. It takes exactly 13 minutes for the patchouli’s green side to emerge. It’s metholated and slightly medicinal, but it’s much more minty as a whole. Patchouli is a plant in the mint family, and there are definite reflections of that side in the perfume, though they are quite soft at first.

Source: 1stdibs.com

Source: 1stdibs.com

Much more noticeable, however, is the woody dustiness that becomes stronger, and a quiet creaminess in texture. Patchouli Antique increasingly smells like the creamiest of very ancient apothecary cabinets, made out of cedar, covered by a light film of ancient dust, then heavily infused with dark, chewy, spicy patchouli. I think the creaminess is due solely to the vanilla which isn’t distinct in its own right at this point, but which works indirectly in the base to create that textural feel and smoothness. It rounds out any rough edges, making sure that Patchouli Antique is not too green or woody.

Abstract Mint Green and Chocolate Brown art on canvas by Heatherdaypaintings on Etsy. (Website link embedded within photo.)

Abstract Mint Green and Chocolate Brown art on canvas by Heatherdaypaintings on Etsy. (Website link embedded within photo.)

To my regret, the creaminess also serves to diffuse the boozy rum and cognac accord, weakening it and making it fade away almost completely by the 20-minute mark. Taking its place is a creamy mint tonality that soon dominates both the patchouli and the scent as a whole. It is as though Patchouli Antique has entered into a completely new phase where the primary bouquet is creamy mint patchouli, followed by dusty cedar and the merest hint of something leathery. The fragrance has the feel of heavy creamy, though not in any fresh, sour, or particularly sweetened way. The dry, woody, and minty elements cut through the vanilla, to help ensure that the primary focus is on the greener side of the patchouli. I have to say, I really miss the lovely fruited tobacco and run-cognac, and I’m not crazy about feeling like a creamy mint ice-cream infused with patchouli chips.

Source: 123rf.com

Source: 123rf.com

The second stage is short-lived, a quick transitional bridge to Patchouli Antique’s main phase which begins at the end of the first hour. The vanilla blooms in its own right, overtaking the mentholated mint element, and turning Patchouli Antique into a creamy patchouli-vanilla scent with a very dusty, woody undertone. The mint remains, as does the dry cedar, but both move increasingly to the sidelines. The patchouli has lost much of its chewy, spicy, smoky darkness, feeling washed, and somewhat cleaned by creamy vanillic softness. The whole thing hovers an inch above the skin, and feels very airy.

At the 90-minute mark, Patchouli Antique on my skin is 4 parts vanilla, 3 parts patchouli, 2 parts mint, and 1 part dusty, dry, amorphous woods. Occasionally, the patchouli will dominate the vanilla, but, generally, it feels much more enveloped by the creamy note. To be clear, however, the fragrance is never gourmand at all. Patchouli Antique lacks the sweetness for that, but the patchouli remains very muffled for much of the time. I would have far preferred more of the rich, spicy, smokiness of patchouli in a redder, brown fragrance than such a creamily beige one dominated by soft vanilla. That said, Patchouli Antique is a refined scent where all of the edges have been smoothed out.

However, I think it may have gone too much in the direction of cleaning the patchouli of its dark earthiness, funk, and spicy leatheriness. How people can compare Patchouli Antique to a monster of medicinal funk, smoky vetiver woodiness, and intense darkness like Reminiscence‘sPatchouli or Elixir Patchouli is completely beyond me. I see very little in common between the three scents, except the boozy element that both Reminiscence fragrances begin with if a lot is applied. On my skin, the greenness in the Nereides fragrance is primarily mint, whereas it was heavily camphorous and mentholated with the Reminiscence duo, in addition to being infused by an intense, smoked vetiver.

The overall lack of smokiness in Patchouli Antique also removes it from the realm of Chanel‘s spectacular Coromandel which is one of my favorite perfumes primarily because of its gorgeous patchouli drydown. In Coromandel, the patchouli turns into something like a creamy Chai tea dusted with white chocolate and infused with frankincense, but it always smells like sweet, spicy patchouli. The patchouli in Les Nereides’ version is much blander, creamier, cleaner, and softer, without the incense or spicy sweetness. There are minuscule flickers of both deep down, but they are heavily muffled.

Source: stonecontact.com

Source: stonecontact.com

In fact, Patchouli Antique seems increasingly like a vanilla fragrance with just dashes of patchouli tossed in. At the start of the third hour, Patchouli Antique is a creamy, woody vanilla with patchouli, followed by a touch of synthetic white musk in the base. It is also now a skin scent, though it is still noticeable up close. It soon devolves further, turning slightly powdery, until it is a mere gauzy smear of woody vanilla, followed by patchouli and white musk. It feels like a wispy, drier, simpler, less sweetened cousin to something like Serge LutensUn Bois Vanillé. I like the latter quite a bit, but it is not what I’m looking for in a fragrance that is supposed to center around patchouli.       

Patchouli Antique has very good longevity on my perfume-consuming skin for a fragrance that is an eau de toilette, but it is hardly as spectacular as others seem to report. Around 7.5 hours into its development, the fragrance is almost gone. It dies away entirely an hour later, 8.5 hours from the start, as a blur of dusty, woody sweetness. The sillage was initially strong with a large application, but soft with a smaller one. The average, overall projection as a whole for the fragrance’s lifespan was soft.

Suzanne on Bois de Jasmin has a detailed assessment of Patchouli Antique which I agree with in small part, though I think she experienced far more of the lovely opening phase of the fragrance than I did. Her review reads, in part, as follows:

Les Néréides Patchouli Antique is one of a number of patchouli-centric fragrances in niche perfume lines that strips away the past and presents patchouli as something eminently more palatable for modern tastes. […] 

Although the lasting power is superb and the strength impressive, Patchouli Antique is a mellow liquid using vanilla not as a sweetening agent but as a smoothing one.  Vanilla takes the edge off the green, aromatic and slightly minty quality that the note possesses in isolation. The “antique” of the name conjures up ideas of aging and one is hard-pressed to escape a noticeable mustiness that creeps into the fragrance after a fruity and golden opening.

Patchouli Antique is not enslaved to the herbal origin of the note.  After the fruitiness of the opening comes a lovely, semi-damp earthiness similar to what one finds in L’Artisan Voleur de Roses and then the notes of wood, paper, leather, and perhaps a vapor of alcohol. […]

Vanilla comes into play in the drydown, rubbing out the earlier earthy and liqueur-like qualities but not in a degree that makes the fragrance gourmand.  It does tend to desensitize the patchouli a bit[.][…]

Depending on the method of application (spraying or dabbing) it can become almost a skin scent when applied in moderation, or it can announce itself as patchouli and it will elicit remark when used that way.

I envy Suzanne for an experience that seems much boozier and for far longer than my own. On my skin, I had a liqueur and earthy patchouli phase that may have lasted 20 minutes at most, followed then by heavy mint ice-cream patchouli, woody vanilla-patchouli, and finally, just plain woody, powdery vanilla.   

On Fragrantica, the reviews are mixed, as some people find the scent too musty, minty, or mentholated. As noted earlier, 10 people voted that Patchouli Antique was extremely similar to Reminiscence’s Elixir that I reviewed yesterday, but I can’t see any overlap at all. In the Fragrantica comments, others bring up Parfumerie Generale‘s Coze, a scent I haven’t tried, as well as other patchouli mainstays. A few examples of the range of opinions:

  • I detect no patchouli at all in this, at least not as I understand it. [¶] It goes on minty, medicinal and slightly weird-smelling and reminds me of semi-fresh breath that someone’s been trying to conceal by chewing gum. Camphorous. [¶] There’s also something reminiscent of pu-erh tea emerging after a while. [¶] None of these notes are anything I associate with a personal fragrance applied for the pleasure of oneself or those around you. Terrible.
  • This is a thick, chewy patchouli, reminiscent of Coze in my opinion. Where Coze is heavy on the tobacco, this is heavy on the chocolate note (though none is officially listed) this is a great winter scent and if you like Coromandel, Borneo 1834 and Coze, this is most definitely a must have.
  • It’s an interesting scent – I think that’s the kindest thing I can say about it. […] It makes me think of dusty attics and cobwebs and stale cigarette smoke. I imagine being a child and finding clothes from 80 years ago that still have the faint scent of perfume on them – that’s the smell that I get. It’s evocative in a way but if I want to smell like this and I could live in a damp house with a bunch of smokers, wear Opium to bed and get up without showering and go out. Not my thing really.
  • This is not simply a patchouli fragrance, this is patchoulissimo. No frils, pleasantly unrefined, simple and extremely earthy patch with powdery/ambery undertones. Honest, unpretentious yet attention worthy for any patch lover…I stick with more complex interpretations of the main theme, but if you’re up for a classic no surprise patchouli, check this out, this is quality stuff.
  • As many of the reviews on Luckyscent mention, this really does have a musty opening note. In fact, on me, it is bordering on downright mildewy! But strangely, it’s mildewy in an endearing, nostalgic way…reminding me of memories made while playing with my cousins in the attic of their summer cabin. [¶] Eventually, after not too long, the mustiness fades and I am left with a soft, powdery, sweet patchouly.
  • I must say it`s horrific. Very strong tobacco and medicinal patchouli. So very much not up my alley.
The kind of purple, fruited patchouli to avoid if you want real patchouli. Source: Shutterstock.com

What purple, fruited patchouli feels like, and what to avoid if you want real patchouli. Source: Shutterstock.com

You have to be a lover of true patchouli scents to appreciate Patchouli Antique. Given the note’s notoriety since the 1970s with all the negative associations to hippies and “head shops,” true patchouli with all its spicy, sweet, smoky, earthy funk isn’t common in modern perfumery. What is listed as “patchouli” is the terrible purple fruit-chouli kind with its overwhelmingly syrupy, jammy, fruited, berried molasses that accompanies roses scents or which is used as the base in fake, neo-quasi “chypres” now that oakmoss has essentially become a thing of the past. People used to the patchouli  in commercial, mainstream scents like Chanel‘s Coco Noir or Marc Jacob‘s Lola (to give just two of a plethora of examples) will undoubtedly respond to Patchouli Antique with some of the reactions noted above.

That said, Patchouli Antique does have a mustiness and dustiness that isn’t typical of even dark, true patchouli fragrances. Tobacco and leather are more characteristic undertones, but, as some of the comments above demonstrate, skin chemistry may play a role in determining how they manifest themselves on your skin. If your chemistry always turns tobacco into an ashtray, or if you hate tobacco fragrances as a whole, then patchouli may be a problematic note for you in general. If, however, you love fragrances like Coromandel, Borneo 1834, or Guerlain‘s L’Instant de Guerlain Pour Homme Extreme (LIDGE), chances are that you already like the real kind of patchouli.

Whether you will like Patchouli Antique, on the other hand, will very much depend on how much vanilla you want in your patchouli fragrance. For me, the patchouli is far too stripped down and denuded, the vanilla dominates too much of the fragrance’s overall lifespan, and I’m not crazy about the mint phase. In short, I’ll stick to the gorgeous, smoky Coromandel if I want a patchouli-vanilla fix. However, if you don’t mind a scent that is predominantly dry woody vanilla, and if you don’t mind a powdery touch, then you should give Patchouli Antique a sniff. It has a lovely, boozy opening (brief though it is), the drydown is very soft, and it is very affordable at $70 for a large 100 ml bottle. I know someone who enjoys powdery scents and loves patchouli; she uses Patchouli Antique every night as a comforting, soothing bed-time scent. You might feel the same way.

DETAILS:
Cost & Availability: Patchouli Antique or Patchouli Precieux (the new name) is an eau de toilette that is most commonly sold in a 100 ml/ 3.4 oz bottle and which costs $70, or €65. A few places offer the 30 ml bottle which costs €35 (or €29 on sale). There is also a body lotion. Generally, you will find the perfume under the old name being sold at a discount, or that sites carrying it are sold out, as they make way for the new bottle. In the U.S.Luckyscent carries Patchouli Antique in the old 100 ml bottle for $70, but they are currently sold out. They also sell a 0.7 ml sample for $3. Outside the U.S.: You can buy Patchouli Antique directly from Les Néréides where it is sold under the new name, “Patchouli Precieux,” and is available in both sizes. The 100 ml bottle costs €65, while the 30 ml bottle costs €35. I found the perfume discounted on a few sites under the old name: the Netherlands’ DePluymGraaff sells the 100 ml bottle for €49, while Italy’s Scent Bar sells the 100 ml for €55 and the 30 ml for €29. In the UK, Les Nereides had a shop in London in Kings Road, but I read that it has closed. The brand’s jewellery is carried by the House of Fraser, but not its scents so far as I can tell by the website. I found Patchouli Antique at Ursula and Odette, but the site has no e-store. You can perhaps call to purchase. Elsewhere in Europe, France’s Olivolga sells Patchouli Antique in the 100 ml bottle for €65, as does Linea Chic. Germany’s First in France has Patchouli Antique on sale for €49, perhaps because it is the old bottle with the old name, but they are sold out. They offer samples of the scent for €4. Les Nereides shops: Les Nereides has stores in Paris, while its line is also carried at Paris’ Les Galleries Lafayettes and Printemps. There are also Les Nereides boutiques in Sydney, Odessa, Hong Kong, China, and Japan. You can look up their locations at Les Nereides Store Locator. Samples: I obtained my sample from eBay, but Patchouli Antique is also available at Surrender to Chance starting at 2.99 for a 1 ml vial. Many of the sites listed above offer vials for sale.

Reminiscence Patchouli & Elixir de Patchouli

I thought I’d begin my patchouli series at the beginning with the referential benchmark perfume which started it all. It was 1970 when Reminiscence Paris released Patchouli, the fragrance which would be forever tied to their name in many people’s minds. A true, dirty, woody patchouli, Reminiscence’s eau de toilette was very much a product of its times, and embodies all that the negative associations with the note: the “Summer of Love,” dirty hippies, and a “head-shop” earthiness. Yet, Reminiscence’s Patchouli remains a cult hit and, for many, the standard by which all other scents in the genre are measured. For a few of my friends, the perfume is known merely as “Reminiscence,” as if there were nothing else. I myself call it the same thing. So, to avoid endless redundancy in talking about both the note and the perfume name, I’ll simply refer to the scent from now on as “Reminiscence.”

Source: inthe-r.com

Source: inthe-r.com

In 2007, the company issued a flanker called Elixir de Patchouli. Though there have been a few Reminiscence spin-offs of the 1970 original, the Elixir is an eau de parfum that is intended to be a deeper, richer version of Patchouli, a daughter more than a cousin. The two fragrances seem largely alike on the surface, especially when you spray on a lot. They both open as extremely boozy, cognac-like patchoulis, but they diverge later on to some extent. However, if you apply a minimal quantity, the differences between the Reminiscence and the Elixir are much more noticeable. I thought I would analyse each one in turn.

PATCHOULI:

Source: Miriam London

Source: Miriam London

Patchouli is an eau de toilette which Reminiscence describes as an “Oriental Woody” with the following olfactory pyramid:

Top and Heart Notes :

Woody (Essential Oil Virginia Cedar, Essential Oil Javanese Patchouli, Essential Oil Haitian Vetiver, Essential Oil Australian Sandalwood)

Base Notes :

Ambery (Spanish Labdanum Absolute)

Sweet (Madagascan Vanilla Absolute, Tonka Bean Absolute),

Balsamic (Tolu Balm Resinoid),

Musky (White Musk)

If you apply a lot of Reminiscence, its opening is all boozy cognac followed by hints of dark chocolate. Four big smears creates a potent, forceful, truly intense cloud of dark patchouli where the aged cognac essentially trumps all for a good portion of the opening 15-minutes. However, I think the perfume’s true characteristics and nuances are most evident with a lesser, perhaps more normal dosage, so my breakdown will talk about what the fragrance is like with 2 big smears which would be the equivalent of 2 small sprays. Given the famed potency of Reminiscence in its opening stage, I’m not sure anyone would ever apply more than 2 small sprays anyway.

Reminiscence opens on my skin as a powerful force-field of chewy, earthy, leathery sweetness infused with smoky cedar. The immediate impression is of dark patchouli that is sweet, spicy, and musky, with hints of dry woods, and smoke. More significant, perhaps, is a note that can only be described as a wet, mushy, salty touch, almost like ambergris. To my surprise, Reminiscence is surprisingly sheer for such a massively strong perfume, and feels as though it has no weight at all.

Red clay river bank. Source: panoramio.com

Red clay river bank. Source: panoramio.com

There is a definite greenness underlying the dark brown, red, black notes. The perfume makes me imagine a wet, terracotta-brown, sloping, river bank of musky earth at the base of a big cedar tree. Out of the mushy soil sprout dark green leaves that smell a little medicinal. Yet, there is also sweetness in the air. From afar, the patchouli smells like smoky, bitter-sweet chocolate toffee with spices, leather, a whisper of nuttiness, and a whole lot of funk. Up close, however, the patchouli is primarily woody and dry in nature. There are also clearly synthetics in the base, something that eventually gives me a little bit of a headache. I suspect it’s my nemesis, the white musk.

Ten minutes in, Reminiscence starts to slowly shift. The chocolate rises to the surface. It’s dark but semi-sweet, with an almost expresso-like undertone. The vetiver soon explodes in full force, smelling as smoked as the cedar that it joins, and the two together cut through Reminiscence’s sweetness. They add a definite dry, forest feel to the visuals of wet, red earth. As the smoked vetiver and dry cedar bloom, so do the dark, green patchouli leaves, turning very medinal and camphorated. I don’t have my sample of Serge LutensBorneo 1834 to compare to Reminiscence side by side, but there are definite similarities in the mentholated notes. However, the Reminiscence seems more heavily dominated by the smoked vetiver and cedar than the Lutens. It is stronger in smell, but sheerer in feel, and it also seems dirtier.

Source: thecandyfan.com

Source: thecandyfan.com

The Reminiscence smells a lot like chilled peppermint and bitter chocolate with heavy amounts of smoky vetiver and cedar. In some ways, it reminds me of the American sweet, a York Peppermint Pattie, only much drier and woodier. I find myself oddly apathetic to it all, perhaps because I wish there were more sweetness, and much more weight. It doesn’t feel molten, thick and opaque, no matter how strong it may be up close.

The projection isn’t enormous either, though you may get fooled by the strength of the perfume’s notes up close. (With 4 enormous smears, however, the projection is nuclear, and the fragrance can be smelled across the room.) Yet, for all that the sillage is average with a low dose, the Reminiscence still sends little tendrils into the air around you, weaving a dark spell that is a mix of sweetness, earthiness and dry, smoked woods.

Source: pixabay.com

Source: pixabay.com

After 20 minutes, Reminiscence begins to transition. The medicinal, mentholated aspect to the funk becomes stronger, and the perfume definitely seems like something suited to the ’70s or to the hippies at Woodstock. I like parts of it, and others I don’t. The synthetic clang in the base gives me a headache, and the notes are too intensely mentholated for my tastes. I smell like a bitter, dark chocolate version of a York Peppermint Patty, mixed with an athlete’s muscle rub, and a hefty dose of smoked, dark vetiver. The cedar pops in and out, lending even more woody dryness whenever it appears.

I think people who are used to a much sweeter, more modern patchouli fragrance where the note is infused with vanilla from the start may get a little bit of a shock to their system at the medicinal funk and vetiver woodiness of the Reminiscence. This is definitely patchouli, yes, but it is a significantly darker, more bitter, medicinal camphorated version than many of its descendants from other brands.

Source: pl.123rf.com

Source: pl.123rf.com

It isn’t until the start of the second hour that Reminiscence pipes down a little. The vanilla suddenly appears, and it changes the scent quite dramatically. The perfume is increasingly a soft, balmy, mellow patchouli atop a light vanilla base infused by cedar and vetiver. The bitter dark chocolate has turned to milk chocolate, and the medicinal aspects are diffused, returning to a pleasant peppermint note. The sillage drops, the notes blend into each other, the perfume is sweeter, and the whole thing feels even gauzier. Around 90-minutes in, Reminiscence is a sheer, spicy, creamy patchouli infused with sweetness, smoky woods and vanilla.

At the end of the third hour, Reminiscence is a total skin scent, and a mere blur of ambered sweetness that just barely smells of patchouli. I have the impression that the fragrance has vanished in areas, and I’m profoundly dubious that it’s actually going to last. To my surprise, however, Reminiscence hangs on, though it turns increasingly vanilla-oriented in focus. About 5.5 hours in, it’s almost all vanilla with just the faintest hint of patchouli and cocoa powder. It finally dies completely around 7.5 hours from the first spray, leaving as a mere vanilla blur.

At double the dosage, Reminiscence has differences in notes, sillage and longevity. The sillage still drops at the end of the first hour, but it takes two hours in total before the fragrance begins to soften and mellow out. The Reminiscence still becomes a skin scent at the end of the third hour, but the total duration is considerably extended to roughly 11.75 hours in length.

The major differences in smell are most noticeable in the opening blast which is suddenly boozy, like aged Armagnac brandy or cognac, in a way that was completely absent at the lower, normal amount. The other differences are primarily of degree. The Reminiscence becomes even more overtly medicinal and dirty with the larger dose, and the fragrance remains that way for a longer period of time. It takes almost 3 hours from the start for the mentholated, earthy, medicinal funk to mellow out, and for the vanilla to soften the patchouli. Oddly, the fragrance takes on a more ambered labdanum undertone at the double dose, and around the middle of the third hour. It’s less vanilla-centered quite so soon, more golden and soft. Eventually, though, Reminiscence eventually ends up the exact same way, as vanilla with patchouli and cocoa powder, then just vanilla in its final moments.

Source: urlm.co

Source: urlm.co

As regular readers know, I’ve been on a hunt for a replica of my holy grail patchouli scent that I wore when I was 14-years old, and which I thought was from the French jewellery house, Ylang-Ylang. It as a glorious dark patchouli with Mysore sandalwood, vanilla, and a light floral touch. Lately, I’ve been wondering if my memory was off, and my holy grail scent was really from Reminiscence. After all, both are jewellery houses started in the South of France, with a similar aesthetic and look. Was I merely confusing the two? I can visualize the store in Monte-Carlo down to a T, but had I gotten the name wrong all this time? I don’t think so, but, when I asked a childhood friend from Monte-Carlo about Ylang-Ylang and a patchouli scent, she said, “It has to be Reminiscence.”

So, when I was in Paris, I took her to the store to see if Reminiscence was the same scent I remember. We sprayed it on our wrists, and I was sniffing mine when she started to shake her head. “This can’t be right,” she said. “It didn’t smell like this. I can’t forget the smell, since half the girls in my high school wore Reminiscence. And this isn’t it!” I asked the sales assistant if the fragrance had been changed, only to receive vehement denials. I don’t believe her. My original favorite had a heavy sandalwood aroma, and while I’m still convinced my holy grail came from “Ylang-Ylang” not Reminiscence, their fragrance also had Mysore sandalwood. Now, however, the perfume lists “Australian sandalwood” as one of its notes. I could not detect sandalwood in any way in the modern Reminiscence Patchouli that I tested, perhaps because the Australian version is utter crap, bland as hell, and isn’t real sandalwood. (Sorry, I know I sound like the biggest snob alive when it comes to this issue, but the two things truly are not alike!)

My memory aside, my friend is convinced that Reminiscence has changed from the fragrance she knew so well — and she’s not the only one. On Surrender to Chance, someone wrote the following comment:

I wore this yummy fragrance over 20 years ago and am assuming they changed the formula….it does not smell like it used to and my family agrees:( so bummed out[.]

Reminiscence Patchouli is perfectly fine, but I found myself strangely apathetic about it. I don’t know why because, in some ways, it’s really quite nice at a higher dosage: the sharpness of the synthetic musk in the base is hidden; the boozy cognac at the top is pretty, as is the amber that shows up later, and the longevity is much improved.

I think the perfume is simply too mentholated at one stage for my personal tastes, too bitter, and with too much smoky vetiver. I need a counterbalance to all that dry woodiness, and much more sweetness to dilute the medicinal tone. Later, when the sweetness does arrive, and the camphor retreats, the fragrance is simply too wispy in feel. I hate how it goes from one extreme (potency), to the other (wispy, sheer skin scent) as quickly as it does, and I don’t approve of the fragrance’s lightweight feel in general.

Sometimes, the original benchmark classic cannot be improved upon, as vintage Opium demonstrates full well. Occasionally, however, modern successors take the blueprint set by the pioneers, and make it much better. I think Reminiscence’s Patchouli falls into the latter category. I’m know it was innovative for its time, and I feel it was probably better before it was reformulated, but the current version is far from perfect, and I think there are better patchouli fragrances on the market. Profumum‘s Patchouly definitely comes to mind, as do a few scents I will write about later this week.

A number of readers on Fragrantica don’t share my opinion. Take the issue of longevity and sillage. The majority (10) vote for “very long lasting,” followed by “long lasting,” while the sillage votes are split with 10 votes for “enormous” and 10 for “heavy.” Almost all the comments on the site are very positive, with a few comparing the fragrance favorably to patchouli niches from Montale, Micallef, and Molinard:

  •  I absolutely loved the clean balminess of Pathcouli. That’s certainly the next best thing to Montale‘s Patchouli Leaves which I declared as my number one. I’ll not compare the two here though. In its own right, Reminiscence’s Patchouli is one of the best, cleanest, dreamiest patchouli fragrances you can ever try. No sharpness, no mustyness, no zesty/citrusy or artificial extra notes whatsoever… That’s the real stuff (some good quality patchouli oil) which has a distinctive “oily” smell reminding me of pure unadultered olive oil. In this respect it’s certainly “exotic”, quite Middle Eastern indeed[.] [Emphasis added by me to name.]
  • This one opens with incense shop and dry cedar wood. Then, a creamy vanilla and praline ensues and tempers the rather moody patch note at the bottom. It’s like teleporting from a Moroccan side street to a Venetian cafe for gelato. I thought at first this one was bitter, but comparing it to Molinard Patchouli and Montale, it’s actually on the sweet side. And I really, really, love it. It is a hippie gourmand essence, but harkens back to some more innocent and hopeful hippie hour; before 1968, say.  [Emphasis added by me to name.]
  • A very beautiful and quite heavy patchouli on a woody base.It smells quite like patchouli oil,very concentrated and powerful. Reminds me of Micallef Patchouli,but Reminiscence’s Patchouli is way stronger and darker.The drydown is a bit sweet patchouli with wood.A hippie patchouli,all the way!It has very good lasting power and sillage! [Emphasis added by me to name.]
  • I think that this is the smoothest of [Reminiscence’s] patchouli blends, and I get a strong, golden, amber-y labdanum entwined with the soft, warm, earthy-resinous patchouli. It has a bit of vanilla sweetness to it, but is mostly a warm, rich, golden, resinous scent. The patchouli smells expensive and smooth, not at all dirty or sharp. It’s dark, golden, and decadent, and I fall in love with it again every time I wear it.
  • This is a rather Nice Patchouli . starts of kind of earthy and the smell of Earth and weth moss came to mind. […]  But then after a little Wild the other notes comes in to make a Symphony .its still very Earth, Smokey, rather hippi like some state before me. […]  i think you must be used to dry Patcholie to be able to pull of this kind of scent.
  • One of the most beautiful patchouli. [¶] A piece of art, strong in the opening, woody, earthy and wet in the middle notes, sweet and vanillic in the drydown, musky the day after. [¶] A deep and warm fragrance you can wear in cold weather and in summer’s evenings. [¶] Pefect and unisex, oriental sensuality and spirituality in a bootle.
  • you spray it.. black magic comes out.. engulfs you..scares you for a second..be strong ..take it..then ..you feel earth moves under your feet..it shatters you.. reminds you of your roots.. and where you came from.. and where you will eventually end..it smells like earth.. like wet earth.. so earthy.. ambery.. PATCHOULI.

I seem to be in the minority, as you can see, especially with regard to the issue of density and longevity. I do think that, if you want a perfectly serviceable, hardcore, dark and dirty patchouli fragrance, Reminiscence probably cannot be beaten for the price. You can buy a 50 ml bottle at various discount sites for between $57-$70. It’s a decent fragrance, and I even briefly considered getting a bottle for myself, despite the moderate longevity on my skin and the unfortunate sillage. At the end of the day, however, I simply can’t get past my feeling that Reminiscence’s Patchouli is merely quite average.

ELIXIR DE PATCHOULI:

Source: Fragrantica.

Source: Fragrantica.

In 2007, Reminiscence came out with an eau de parfum of its trademark scent which it calls, alternatively, Elixir Patchouli, Elixir de Patchouli, or Inoubliable Elixir Patchouli. I’ll just call it “Elixir” for short. Reminiscence describes the fragrance as “the intense version of Patchouli,” and says it has the same notes.

With an average dose (2 small sprays), the Elixir opens on my skin with patchouli that is sweeter, warmer and much less bitter. There is noticeable vanilla up top, as well as labdanum amber. The fragrance has much more of a caramel smell at first, than dark chocolate, though that arrives later. There is also a distinctly nutty, cognac-like whiff, though it’s subtle. It certainly wasn’t there with the Patchouli Eau de Toilette at a lower dosage. Another difference is that the synthetic musk isn’t apparent in the base. As a whole, the Elixir feels richer, smoother, less dry, less sharp, and less woody.

Cypress swamp. Photo: Don Mace Agency. Source: conservationfund.org

Cypress swamp. Photo: Don Mace Agency. Source: conservationfund.org

Ten minutes in, the Elixir changes. First, there is a subtle undertone of wet tobacco, the sort of tobacco that some Americans chew. Then, the fragrance takes on a strange tinge that I can only describe as marshy — like murky, slightly fetid pond water. In my notes, I first wrote “rancid,” before crossing it out, as a more bitter, slightly rotting, fecund, wet earthiness appears. It reminds me a bit of the stagnant green water left in a vase of flowers after a week. At this point, I wrote “rancid” again, along with “rotting cedar?” and “pond algae.” The combination of the vetiver with the earthier aspects of the patchouli and the dry, smoked cedar must be to blame. Whatever the reason, I’m not very enthusiastic about it. Thankfully, the accord lurks under the top layer, lasts only about 40 minutes, and is not a dominant aspect of the Elixir with a small amount. However, if you spray on a lot of the perfume, then it’s extremely noticeable.

Thirty minutes in, the Elixir is a wet, musky, earthy patchouli scent with sweetness, chewed tobacco, smoky vetiver, dry cedar, and hints of caramel labdanum. The medicinal, mentholated note rises to the surface, as does the bitter chocolate. The fragrance follows much of the same olfactory path as the Patchouli eau de toilette, right down to the drop in sillage at the start of the second hour and a lack of opaqueness.

The two fragrances only diverge in path at the start of the fifth hour when the fragrance turns into a labdanum amber front and center, with vanilla and patchouli-milk chocolate tonalities lurking down below. In its final moments, the Elixir is merely a blur of amber with patchouli and a hint of dry woodiness, fading away around the middle of the 8th hour. With the same quantity, the Eau de Toilette version had ended an hour soon, around the 7.5 hour mark, though it felt translucent and close to dying at the start of the 4th hour on my skin.

CognacWith a much bigger quantity (4 big sprays), the Elixir opens as a lovely boozy cognac. It’s powerfully aged, rich, sweet, and potent patchouli, followed by labdanum amber, vanilla, cedar, and vetiver. It’s smoky, sweet, leathery, musky and boozy. The amber note is particularly nice as it feels like ambergris with its musky, wet richness. Then, the marshy undertone returns, along with that weird funk to the vetiver. The wet pond was back, but it was initially fleeting amidst all the cognac booziness.

Once the boozy note recedes at the start of the second hour, then the pond element returns in much greater force, and the patchouli now fully takes on that weird, “off,” somewhat rancid, dank tonality. The stale, chewed tobacco undertone is back as well. The two notes are infused with peppermint chocolate, and the whole combination feels like a very difficult, very wet take on patchouli. Yet, for all that strange tinge in the base, the Elixir is also a sweet, spicy, slightly smoky scent full of real patchouli richness. The mint notes are milder, the subsequent mentholated tonality is tamer and much less camphorous, and the whole thing is much smoother.

Source: pixabay.com

Source: pixabay.com

Ninety minutes in, the fetid vetiver pond fades away, and Elixir is a creamy chocolate-peppermint patchouli with vanilla. It’s much less bitter, dark, and woody than its eau de toilette predecessor. It’s also got significantly more projection, though that starts to soften around this time as well.

Slowly, the labdanum amber starts to take over. By the middle of the third hour, the Elixir is labdanum, patchouli, and vanilla, with soft flickers of cedar. There is a light, greenish woodiness in the base that I assume is the Australian “sandalwood,” but there is also a very pretty spiciness that has appeared. It’s very dry and dusty, almost like cinnamon that has been left at the bottom of some attic drawer. Once in a blue moon, that oddly rancid, woody element pops back up, along with a touch of sour muskiness, the old marshiness, and a hint of something medicinal.

Generally, however, the Elixir is an amber-patchouli scent with dry woody elements and vanillic sweetness. The fragrance turns softer, milder, and much sheerer as time goes by. At the end of the 6th hour, it becomes a wispy blur of labdanum amber with patchouli, followed by small traces of an indistinct woody dryness and just a whisper of vanilla. The Elixir remains that way until the very end, 10.75 hours from the start, when it’s the thinnest smear of something sweet, golden, and dry.

I liked the amber and cognac parts of the Elixir quite a bit, but there were elements that were off-putting for very different reasons than the original Reminiscence Patchouli. I’ve tried the Elixir a number of times, at different dosages, and always found it too sheer and with that strange, rancid, vetiver-cedar swamp nuance. Both the strength and duration of the note varied, depending on the quantity applied, but it was always there to some degree or another.

I also wasn’t impressed by the Elixir’s overall sillage which is generally moderate to weak on my skin, except for the fragrance’s opening hour or if a significant quantity is applied. That said, the Elixir has much better sillage than the regular Reminiscence patchouli which was pretty abysmal on my skin after the first hour unless a huge amount was used. On Fragrantica, the votes for the Elixir’s projection are tied, with 7 choosing “moderate,” and 7 choosing “enormous.”

With regard to longevity, the regular Reminiscence Patchouli may actually beat out the Elixir if a significant quantity is used. There were two instances where the regular Patchouli was still noticeable in parts after the 11th hour with 4 doses, while the Elixir seemed to have faded away almost entirely after the 9th hour, except for one small spot on my skin. It might simply be a misperception due to the soft sillage. On Fragrantica, the Elixir’s longevity is voted as “very long lasting” by a landslide over all the other categories. I clearly have very odd skin.

On Fragrantica, people love the Elixir, just as they did its predecessor. The comments are almost all raves, with one poster providing her thoughts on how it compares to the eau de toilette version:

i love this amazing patchouli. […] its similar to the older original patchouli […] but the elixer has a more vibrant vibes to it.. its a bit more alive.. more hip.. more aromatic.. its of course still that same old earthy patchouli ..yet its more mesmerising.. more sensual.. more beautiful ..i think it really depends on your skin […] its an amazing.. dark ..mysterious.. full bodied.. warm… sexual.. strong.. balmy ..almost crazy ..its so smokey.. […] its so cozy ..something in it just relax me.. if you get over the initial shock of the patchouli strength and all..it takes a little getting used to ..maybe a lot..!  […] it smells like hippie princess and patchouli.. and its just mesmerising […]

Another poster compared it to well-known fragrances from other houses:

It opens with a swirl of amber and a chocolate-like note, very gourmand, – but not sweet – almost similar to Mugler’s Angel. Minutes apart you get a deep smoky note, very leather type in the league of Piguet‘s Bandit and Tauer’s Lonestar Memories. Then a earthy note peeps leaving a trail of soft but not tamed patchouly. It’s like resting after a crazy initial dance. [Emphasis to names added by me.]

Oddly enough, I do see how the smoky vetiver could evoke Bandit‘s greenness and leather feel, or how the cedar may bear some resemblance to that in the Tauer fragrance.

Speaking of comparisons to other fragrances, 10 people compared the Elixir to Montale‘s Patchouli Leaves, while 10 others thought it was just like Les Nereides Patchouli Antique. I have samples of both, but have only given the briefest of tests to the Montale, so I can’t compare except to say that the Montale is significantly deeper and richer in my early estimation. I’ll update this section when I review the two scents properly. What is interesting, however, is that only 5 people voted that the Elixir resembled its mothership fragrance, Reminiscence’s original Patchouli. As noted above, I think there are differences too, beyond just depth, smoothness, and intensity.

Source: Nathan Branch.

Source: Nathan Branch.

Another name which has come up is Serge LutensBorneo 1834. One blogger, Nathan Branch, found the two fragrances very much kindred spirits:

Patchouli Elixir is a stronger, more intense version of the soft, sweet original Patchouli fragrance from Reminiscence, and it easily runs in the same league as Serge Lutens Borneo 1834 — lots of potent green and camphorous patchouli for the first few hours, gradually softening into woods with a dusting of vanilla-cocoa over the rest of its long life-span.

Source: Nathan Branch

Source: Nathan Branch

But I want to stress that the juice goes on very strong. The BF, who’s the warm and huggy type, walked up to me for his usual morning squeeze only a few minutes after I’d sprayed some of the Elixir on, but a look of alarm flashed across his face when he got close and he suddenly veered off with just a quick pat to my shoulder, so if you’re planning on going out anywhere and you want to wear some Reminiscence Patchouli Elixir for the day, either apply with a light touch or give yourself a couple of hours before walking out the door.

I’m tellin’ ya, this stuff is a serious patchouli stink bomb right out of the bottle.

I agree, it’s extremely potent at first, and it shares some similarities to Borneo 1834, though I think they are far fewer than Mr. Branch does. Borneo never turned into a cedar-vetiver swamp on me, the tobacco undertone was very different, and so was its drydown.

All in all, I think both Reminiscence fragrances are very pleasant, but have some issues. Each one has a single, weird note that puts me off, lacks the weight I’m looking for, and could have better longevity or overall, long-term sillage with a normal dose. I go back and forth on which one I prefer, but I like Profumum‘s Patchouly more than either of them. In all fairness, I’m very picky when it comes to patchouli, and have a perfect scent (and weight) in mind that I’m seeking to replicate. Given that everyone else seems to adore the two Reminiscence fragrances, they may be worth checking out for a test if you’re a hardcore patchouli lover.   

DETAILS:
Patchouli EDT Cost & Availability: Patchouli is an eau de toilette that is available in 3 sizes: 50 ml, 100 ml, and 200 ml. The prices are, respectively: €52, €76, and €105. Reminiscence: Reminiscence has an e-store, which offers 2 free samples with every order and, for a limited time until 12/23/13, free shipping. Their delivery countries are: France, the UK, Italy, Germany and Austria. Reminiscence has shops throughout France, but also in Italy, Belgium, and Switzerland. In the UK, I found Patchouli at Miriam London Boutique where it retails for £59.00, but it is currently sold out. In the U.S.: you can find Patchouli heavily discounted on Amazon which sells the 50 ml bottle for $57.91 via a 3rd party seller. You can also buy Patchouli from BeautyHabit which sells Patchouli for $70 for a 50 ml bottle. There is also StrawberryNet which ships worldwide and which sells Patchouli in the 50 ml bottle for $70.50 or the 100 ml for $96. Samples: Surrender to Chance offers samples starting at $2.99 for a 1 ml vial.
ELIXIR EDP Cost & Availability: The Elixir de Patchouli is an eau de parfum that comes only in a 100 ml bottle and which costs €94 or $120.  In the U.S.: BeautyHabit sells all the Reminiscence fragrances, and you can find the Elixir for $120 for the 100 ml bottle. You can find the Elixir on Amazon for $124.55. It is also sold at StrawberryNet for $125.50, and the site ships worldwide.  Outside the U.S.: the Elixir is available directly from Reminiscence which offers 2 samples with every purchase and, for a limited time until 12/23/13, free shipping (in France, to the UK, and selected European countries). You can also find the Elixir at the French Sephora or at the StrawberryNet site linked above. They ship world-wide. Samples: I obtained my sample while at Reminiscence in Paris, and I can’t seem to find any place in the U.S. that may carry it. I don’t know if BeautyHabit offers samples for sale, other than the free ones which come with an order. Surrender to Chance does not carry the Elixir de Patchouli.

Serge Lutens La Vierge de Fer

Joan of Arc. Source: cosmovisions.com

Joan of Arc. Source: cosmovisions.com

It’s hard to live up to a powerful name. Even harder when that name is something that seems to reference both Joan of Arc, and perhaps the most notorious of all medieval torture devices, the Iron Maiden. So, I put all titular and symbolic considerations aside when I tested the latest fragrance from Serge Lutens, La Vierge de Fer, and looked at it in a vacuum. With deep regret and sadness, I have to say that I think it is the worst perfume that I’ve ever tried from Serge Lutens, and more suited to a cheap department store. 

La Vierge de Fer is a floral eau de parfum whose name translates to “The Iron Maiden” (or virgin). It was created by Christopher Sheldrake, and released in September of this year as one of the famous, pricey, bell jar “Paris Exclusives.” The perfume is not sold world-wide, but is limited to Serge Lutens’ Paris headquarters, the Lutens websites, or to the Lutens section of Barney’s New York. 

The inspiration for the fragrance seems to vary depending on which source you read. Some say that La Vierge de Fer was inspired by Picasso’s Les Demoiselles d’Avignon, others talk about Joan of Arc, or the medieval torture device called the Iron Maiden. A few mention Serge Lutens’ mother and how the fragrance is partially an homage to her. (You can read about Serge Lutens’ childhood, and how his mother was forced to abandon him as a baby in the first part of my profile on Monsieur Lutens.)

An Iron Maiden. Source: museumofman.org

An Iron Maiden. Source: museumofman.org

In an interview with Ozmoz, Monsieur Lutens seemed to give a nod to a few of these things:

The name you picked, La vierge de fer (The Iron Maiden), is pretty intense. There’s a reference to torture. Is there perhaps a connection to Joan of Arc, too?

SL: All maidens have a connection between them. Joan of Arc kicking the English out of France is one of the loves of my life. Whether she’s wearing armor or crowning the King of France, she’s a reference, absolutely, but not here. The Iron Maiden is more of an attitude. My own attitude towards what creates beauty. You can’t conceive of anything without a certain fragility, a scar at the bottom of it all. Opening that scar to make it universal is the basic principle of Art. An iron maiden used to be an instrument of torture. And if the term ‘to create’ means anything, it means that whoever does it is tortured and sacrificed on the alter of something.

La Vierge de Fer bell jar.

La Vierge de Fer bell jar.

On his website, Serge Lutens doesn’t add any clarification, writing and describing the perfume rather cryptically:

The religion of iron needed a Virgin, and the Virgin, a lily.

“Have you smelt it?”
“Yes, I have.”
“And how is it?”
“As striking as the fleur-de-lis seal on the arm of a criminal.”
“Never?!”
“And deep down, as itchy as a hair shirt on the skin. In fact, a sublime torture!”.

As always, Serge Lutens keeps the perfume’s notes secret. Surrender to Chance says they are:

Lily, jasmine, amber, vanilla and sandalwood.

The notes I detect are slightly different:

Lily, aldehydes, muguet (or lily of the valley), jasmine, generic amber, white musk, vanilla.

Source: cosmovisions.com

Calla lilies. Source: cosmovisions.com

La Vierge de Fer opens on my skin with notes that are, indeed, as itchy as a hair shirt, though the torture is far from “sublime,” in my opinion. There is a heavy layer of soapy aldehydes that have a lemony undertone. They are followed by lilies that don’t smell like indolic Stargarzers so much as the fresher Calla lily shown in the photo. I also detect a subtle, green whiff of dainty, dewy lily-of-the-valley which I’ll just call by its French name, muguet, in order to avoid any confusion. The whole thing smells as fresh as Dior’s legendary Diorissimo, which would be fine and dandy were it not for the white synthetics.

Bounce dryer sheets.

Bounce dryer sheets.

The green-white floral bouquet is infused with a sharp white musk that sends a piercing pain through my eye every time I smell La Vierge de Fer up close. It starts off resembling expensive hair spray, which is bad enough without its fast transition into the most potent of laundryesque dryer sheets. It is astoundingly bad, astoundingly cheap, and just plain astounding — period — from a house like Serge Lutens. One reason why I like his perfumes is because they generally (with some exceptions) eschew very heavy amounts of synthetics, and, even then, it’s rarely the cheapest form around: common white musk. I don’t go to Serge Lutens for a fragrance that smells like any white florals found in Sephora or Macy’s. I don’t pay his prices for what a celebrity might put out for $30, and I most certainly do not expect such a scent in one of the uber-expensive bell jars whose price has just gone up in the U.S. to $310. The depths of my disappointment and disbelief knows no bounds.    

Source: wallpaper.metalship.org

Source: wallpaper.metalship.org

As I struggle to stop wincing at the shooting pains in my head from the Bounce fabric softener sheets, I notice the odd contrasts emerging in La Vierge de Fer. The fragrance runs hot and cold, metallic and gourmand, in a mix that is both discordant and perplexing. The top notes are soapy aldehydes, piercing white musk, and fresh, green-white lilies, but there is a metallic clang surrounding them that goes beyond mere coldness. It’s as though there were a vein of chilled silver running through the notes, no doubt due to the bloody white musk and the aldehydes. The latter quickly lose their lemony overtones, and turn into pure soap with a tinge of waxiness. 

Vanilla powder. Source: food.ninemsn.com.au

Vanilla powder. Source: food.ninemsn.com.au

Appearing underneath the cool, white bouquet are sudden flashes of something warm, dusty, and sweet. At times, it feels like richly custardy, sweet vanilla. Other times, it’s like dusty, dark, vanilla extrait in unrefined, unprocessed powder. The rich sweetness in the base acts like a wave hitting the green-white floral shores before pulling back, then returning once more. It’s almost like a sort of relay race between the sweet gourmand notes and the alternating cool, metallic, clangy element, the soapy aldehydes, and that piercingly sharp, laundryesque, white musk. It’s rather brilliant on an intellectual, theoretical level, but somewhat disorienting and perplexing on a purely olfactory one.

I’m not happy. I have not been happy on any of the occasions when I’ve tested La Vierge de Fer. Lily is perhaps my favorite floral note, and white floral bombs are the one kind of floral scent that I gravitate towards, but I can’t decide which part of La Vierge de Fer I find more off-putting. So, it’s probably a small mercy then that the perfume has such incredibly weak projection. Within minutes, it feels as though it were evaporating off my skin. Well, everything except that revolting white musk. In less than 10 minutes, in fact, La Vierge de Fer is a complete skin scent on me, which is pretty astonishing. I have problems with longevity, not sillage, but 10 minutes? For an eau de parfum?!

Lily of the Valley, or Muguet.

Lily of the Valley, or Muguet.

La Vierge de Fer also suffers from the cardinal sin of being utterly boring. I have nothing against soliflores — perfumes celebrating and revolving around one main note — if they are interesting or well-done. For me, however, La Vierge de Fer is tedious and banal. Exactly 20 minutes into its development, the perfume loses that odd metallic clang and coldness, and the relay race with the vanilla ends. I wasn’t keen on it, but at least it was interesting, and I could see how the metal might be a symbolic representation of either Joan of Arc’s armour, or the steel spokes of the Iron Maiden as it pierced flesh warm from vanilla and white from lilies. Once that extremely clever bit of elegiac sophistication vanishes, you are left with nothing more than lilies infused with soapy aldehydes and horrific commercial musk. Even the more green muguet note vanishes, if it was even there at all. It’s hard to tell under all the synthetics, especially given how wispy the fragrance is on my skin.

Source: hdwallpapers.fr

Source: hdwallpapers.fr

It takes about 75-minutes for La Vierge de Fer to change, though it’s minor at best. At first, there is a subtle, nebulous change in the perfume’s temperature and feel, as though there were a growing warmth in the base. It’s not vanilla, and it’s most definitely nothing that is actually ambered, but La Vierge de Fer seems less crisp and fresh. The jasmine starts to come out, slowly vying with the lily for dominance, and turning the fragrance sweeter. Eventually, by the end of the 2nd hour, La Vierge de Fer begins to shed some of its laundryesque sharpness like an unpleasant snake’s skin, though the jasmine can’t erase all of it. The perfume is now jasmine and lily on an abstract, sweet, warm base that is infused with Bounce dryer sheets. By the end of the 3rd hour, La Vierge de Fer is nothing more than a blur of whiteness (and synthetics) that feels as though it’s about to die entirely.

To my surprise, La Vierge de Fer hangs on tenaciously, chugging away in the most translucent smear on my skin. It still gives me an immediate pain in my head every time I smell it up close, but the perfume is definitely there if you put your nose right on your arm and inhale forcefully. What is surprising is an odd, unexpected fruitiness that suddenly pops up alongside the clean, white musk in the base. To the extent that I can make out anything from La Vierge de Fer’s thinness, it almost smells like dark grapes. It has to be the indoles so prevalent in white flowers like jasmine; indoles can be broken down to something called methyl anthranilate, a natural compound which has a fruity aroma, often like that of Concord grapes (among other things). Whatever the reason for the sudden fruitiness, it is a fleeting thing that shows up on in the tiniest of ways and towards the end on my skin around the middle of the 5th hour.

Source: backdropsforyourlife.wordpress.com

Source: backdropsforyourlife.wordpress.com

The perfume dies shortly thereafter, giving its last gasp just a little over 7 hours from the time I first applied it. In its final moments, it was nothing more than cheap, synthetic white “cleanness.” The 7 hours comes from an average quantity of about 3 smears, or about 2 sprays. At a smaller dosage amounting to one good-sized spray, La Vierge de Fer lasted only 5.75 hours on my skin. Were it not for piercing musk, which my skin clings onto like glue, I suspect the whole thing would have died after three hours, no matter how much I applied.   

If I were to be diplomatic about the reactions to La Vierge de Fer that I’ve observed in groups or on various sites, I would say that they are mixed. Some eventually grow to appreciate the perfume as was the case for Bois de Jasmin, who wrote, in part:

La Vierge de Fer is neither punk nor bizarre. It’s not particularly dark either. I would put it as one of the more approachable and easy to like florals from Lutens’s impressive collection. It’s quite demure and delicate next to the bombshells like Tubéreuse Criminelle or Fleurs d’Oranger. The tender sweetness of jasmine is contrasted with the champagne of aldehydes in the top notes, and this beautiful contrast between softness and sparkle is carried on into the drydown. […][¶]

Jasmine and lily fireworks notwithstanding, La Vierge de Fer was not love at first inhale for me. I found it too simple and not challenging enough. But as I continued to dip into my sample, I found it more and more compelling. It’s simultaneously comforting and sophisticated, which makes it versatile enough to wear for just about any occasion. You simply have to love being showered with white flowers.

Well, I do happen to “love being showered with white flowers,” but I personally wouldn’t wear La Vierge de Fer if it were given to me for free. And no amount of time or testing is going to change my feelings.

In my opinion, La Vierge de Fer could go right next to the sort of clean, fresh, white, Spring-like floral scents found in Dillard’s, TJ Maxx, or Sephora. There’s nothing wrong with that if that is your taste, but I doubt anyone would want to pay $310 for it. One spends that sort of money on a Serge Lutens bell jar to get a wholly unusual, creative, innovative scent with a twist — a scent that has a complex, morphing character that is different from everything else out there, and that doesn’t come with a massive wallop of cheap synthetics. I realise that Serge Lutens has veered as of late towards lighter, thinner, simpler fragrances, and away from the complex (often Oriental) perfumes with which he began his line in the early 1990s, but I think La Vierge de Fer suffers from more than mere simplicity. I find it tedious and absolutely terrible. In almost every case with Serge Lutens — even when a particular fragrance doesn’t suit my personal tastes — I can admire the artistry, think it is well-done, and respect it. That is not the case here. I don’t think La Vierge de Fer even deserves to carry the Serge Lutens name. 

DETAILS:
Cost & Availability: La Vierge de Fer is an eau de parfum that is part of the Serge Lutens “Paris Exclusives” line, which means it is available only in the larger 2.5 oz/75 ml Bell Jar size. It retails for $310 or €140 for a 75 ml/2.5 oz bottle. You can buy it directly from the U.S. Serge Lutens website or from the International one
In the U.S.: La Vierge de Fer should be available exclusively at Barney’s New York store, but for some reason, the fragrance is not on the website at the time of this review. Normally, you can call the store to purchase their Lutens bell jars. The number is (212) 833-2425.
Samples: You can order samples of La Vierge de Fer from Surrender to Chance starting at $3.99 for a 1/2 ml vial. The fragrance is also available as part of a Five Piece Non-Export Sampler Set, where you can choose 5 Lutens Paris Exclusives for a starting price of $18.99 for a 1/2 ml vial. 

LM Parfums Hard Leather: Lust In The Woods

Source: Tumblr. Original artist or site unknown.

Source: Tumblr. Original artist or site unknown.

Sex. Seduction. The scent of a man in leather and smoke. The softness of a woman in sandalwood and vanilla. Musky figures entwined on a rumpled bed, in a room filled with the black swirls of incense. The smell of his neck, his chin rough with dry stubble, and the lingering traces of rum on his mouth. Her body golden, smooth, covered with honey, and damp with sweat. Hardness, softness, and always, pure animal sensuality.

The images that come to my mind when Hard Leather first opens on my skin are wholly inappropriate for further description. But it happens each time I smell the new fragrance from by LM Parfums. In the past, seduction has come to mind with a few fragrances that I’ve tried this year, notably Hard Leather’s older sister, Sensual Orchid, and Amouage‘s Fate Woman, but nothing quite like this. Nothing quite so animalic, so overt. This is not about coy, flirtatious seduction, but steamy intimacy.

Source: timeslive.co.za

Source: timeslive.co.za

For me, the opening hour of Hard Leather is primal, purely sexual, and it impacted me immediately from the very first time I smelled it. It made me quite lose my cool, despite being with the actual perfumer in the most haughtily snobbish, constipated place in all of Paris. And every time I’ve worn it since, it makes me feel quite heated. In short, Hard Leather has one of the best openings of any perfume I’ve smelled this year. In many a year, actually. The rest of the fragrance is not quite as glorious, primarily due to a middle phase that I struggle with a little, but the perfume is still incredibly well done as a whole and I think a lot of men are going to love it. 

LM Parfums Hard Leather 3Hard Leather is set to release some time this week or the next in France, so I thought it was time for a full, proper review, beyond just my cursory, initial ravings. [Update: The perfume was officially released a few hours after the posting of this review, and is now available for sale.] Hard Leather is pure parfum with 20% fragrance oils, and part of LM Parfum’s new line called The Intimacy Collection. The press release description sent to me states that Hard Leather’s olfactory pyramid includes:

Top Notes: Rum, Leather.

Heart Notes: Iris, Honey.

Base Notes: Sandalwood, Cedarwood, Oud, Frankincense, Styrax and Vanilla.

Smoke #6 by Stefan Bonazzi. (Website link embedded within photo,.)

Smoke #6 by Stefan Bonazzi. (Website link embedded within photo,.)

When you smell Hard Leather from the sprayer on the bottle, you are hit with a wave of black incense that is almost fiery and piercing. It is followed by smoky, sweet oud that smells as though it were taken straight from an extremely old agarwood tree in Laos. On its heels is a powerful, intense sandalwood that is most definitely the real, spicy, glorious, and very rare kind from Mysore. There is a dustiness, a dryness to the wood-incense combination, but also a patina of sweetness. To my nose, the aroma evokes both the incense-sandalwood profile of my beloved vintage Opium, as well as the much drier, dustier, more fiery incense-sandalwood-oud combination of Neela Vermeire‘s Trayee. But you can’t judge a perfume by its bottle aroma, any more than you can a book by its cover.

Source: Tumblr. Original source or photographer unknown.

Source: Tumblr. Original source or photographer unknown.

Hard Leather opens on my skin with an initial whiff of honey and genuine Mysore sandalwood, then a powerful, potent burst of animalic, raw, musky leather. It’s as though a light coat of honey was thinly layered over raw animal hides left in the sun, which are then drenched with musk. The leather is initially like that in Montale‘s Aoud Cuir d’Arabie, before it turns into something midway between Aoud Cuir d’Arabie and Serge Lutens‘ glorious Cuir Mauresque. By the same token, the musk is similar to that in Serge LutensMuscs Koublai Khan (hereinafter “MKK“), only rounder and generally softer. It has the most fleeting urinous edge, but far less than the Lutens had on my skin. I’m generally not one for very raw, extremely animalic leather, but, my God, it’s sexy here. It’s leather with the scent of skin, heated and musky after sex, lightly drizzled with honey, and wrapped up with tendrils of black incense.

On skin, the oud initially lurks behind the leather, but it rears its head after a few minutes. It smells exactly like the aged Laotian kind used in such expensive lines as Xerjoff, and Laurent Mazzone confirmed to me that it is indeed aged Asian agarwood. The wonderful difference, here, is that the oud never smells fecal, or (even worse) like rotting gorgonzola, the way that Laotian agarwood can sometimes be in perfumery. Instead, it’s smooth, with a bit of that “noble rot” funk that is true to real oud. It’s also sweet, thanks to the honey, and slightly smoking from the incense. The oud is blended perfectly with the other woods in Hard Leather, from the slightly musky, dry cedar, to the gloriously rich, smooth, spicy sandalwood. The latter most definitely smells like the real stuff, and judging by the Robertet name on my tiny decant and the fact that they deal with the most expensive raw materials, I suspect Mr. Mazzone spent a fortune ensuring he got actual, red Mysore instead of some generic beige wood or green Australian “sandalwood.”

Source: 123people.es

Source: 123people.es

The final result is an opening that I find to be utterly addictive, a smoldering cocktail of raw, steamy sex appeal. It’s as though Serge Lutens’ Cuir Mauresque mixed with MKK, Neela Vermeire’s Trayee, Montale’s Aoud Cuir d’Arabie, and a dash of vintage Opium’s drydown, only the final result is ramped up by a hundred. It’s Lawrence of Arabia’s swarthy, musky sheikhs, with Turkish harem concubines clothed only in tendrils of incense, having sex in the ancient agar forests of Laos under freshly tanned, cured leather coated in honey and sandalwood.

Yet, for all that the notes may sound aggressive or too much, Hard Leather’s opening is utterly seamless and perfectly blended. The notes fluidly move one into the other, each transforming the next, with no hard edges, roughness, or spiky, prickly bits. In this phase, the incense may be the sharpest thing about the fragrance, waging a war of blackness on the sexual musk and leather, as if to drag the lovers to a Chinese temple. One thing I’ve noticed is that Hard Leather is a fragrance where less is sometimes more at the start, because two big sprays can be quite intense.

Thirty minutes in, Hard Leather starts to shift. The leather loses some of its rawness, turning richer, and more burnished. The musk softens too, feeling a little less dirty or skanky, while the honey blends in the base to add the faintest touch of sweetness. The sandalwood becomes even deeper, and even takes on a floral touch that is quite lovely. Actually, all the wood accords grow stronger, as does the smoke. Slowly, Hard Leather begins the transition to its next phase where the wood elements dominate the scent to such an extent, I sometimes wonder if the perfume might be more aptly named Hard Woods.

An hour into its development, Hard Leather begins its second stage, turning intensely dry. The desiccated feel from the woods and smoke essentially neutralizes the honey, but I think something else is at play. I smell Norlimbanol with its arid and, yes, its synthetic feel. For those who are unfamiliar with the name, Norlimbanol is a super aromachemical from Givaudan that puts ISO E Super to shame with its power. It has an ultra powerful, sharp aroma of woodiness with an undertone of leather, but it is always bone-dry to the point of dustiness.

Recently, I spent 10 minutes sniffing just the outside of my little decant of Hard Leather, and there was a definite synthetic whiff of dry woodiness right from the sprayer. On skin, it only shows up after an hour or 75 minutes, but it does show up. A few times when I’ve sniffed Hard Leather on my arm and up close, I get an immediate tightness in my nose and the faintest tickle at the back of my throat. The Norlimbanol is merely a speck at first, but it becomes increasingly powerful in Hard Leather’s 2nd through 5th hours, and I have to admit, I’m not a fan of it. Even without it, I think the new focus on dry woods destroys the perfection of the first hour with its raw animalism and unapologetic, lusty sensuality. Bring back the sex and leather, I say!

Smoke #11   Stefano Bonazzi Selected Digital Works. (Website link embedded within photo.)

Smoke #11 Stefano Bonazzi Selected Digital Works. (Website link embedded within photo.)

About 90-minutes into its development, Hard Leather is a different fragrance. The oud and Norlimbanol have taken over, turning the scent into one of extreme woods and incense with a very arid feel. The lusty, raunchy leather is blended into it, but it is a much more muted layer that lies underneath, and it is no longer Hard Leather’s main focus. At the same time, Hard Leather’s initially powerful sillage drops. With 2 big sprays (or the equivalent of 3 enormous smears), Hard Leather initially wafts about 5-6 inches around you, before dropping down after 90 minutes to a softer, airier cloud that is only about 3 inches. It’s very intense when smelled up close, and remains that way for hours.

The other notes make a valiant effort to counter-balance the the power of the oud, incense, and Norlimbanol. Unfortunately, my skin takes synthetics like the latter and runs with it, so they’re not particularly successful. Still, I really like how the Mysore sandalwood blooms, turning more floral and much creamier. I can also detect the sweeter notes stirring in the base. Styrax is a smoky, spicy, slightly leathered sort of amber resin, and it adds little flecks of golden warmth like fireflies in an extremely dark, smoky forest. The tiniest tendrils of vanilla curl up as well, stroking the woods, trying to tame them with sweetness in order to end the dry spell.

Source: hqdesktop.net

Source: hqdesktop.net

The core essence of Hard Leather’s second stage remains largely unchanged for the next few hours. Different notes wax and wane in prominence or strength, but the intense smoke, dry woods, and oud dominate. The power of the trio and the length of their stay really seems to depend on how much Hard Leather you apply. The more you spray, the longer their duration and force, and the less sweetness the fragrance manifests. Regardless, midway during the third hour, the vanilla starts to play a much bigger role. It’s now quite cuddly, cozy, rich, and sweet. The sandalwood turns even creamier; it’s a very smooth, incredibly luxurious aroma that begins to muscle its way onto center stage. Hard Leather is an elegant blend of dryness, sweetness, spiciness, creaminess, smokiness, leather, and woods, with just a hint of something raunchy, untamed, and animalic at its edges.

Source: 123rf.com

Source: 123rf.com

At the end of the fifth hour, the dryness finally recedes, and Hard Leather transitions to its third stage. The primary focal point is now spicy sandalwood and sweet vanilla, followed by oud, incense and increasingly muted hints of musky leather. It is all much more discreet, lying right on the skin, though it doesn’t take any effort to detect Hard Leather up close. Other notes pop up and down like a Jack in the Box. The honey reappears from time to time in the background, adding to Hard Leather’s growing glimpses of sweetness. The base feels much warmer now as well, though the styrax resin never seems like actual amber but something much more abstract in nature.

The oddest thing is the iris. Sometimes, Hard Leather has a definite floral element, but it really seems to stem primarily from the sandalwood. On occasion, however, the iris appears on my skin, primarily as a cool, soft suede with the faintest tinge of soft powder. It’s incredibly muted and weak on me, and I suspect cooler or paler skins may bring out the iris more than my warm, basenote-amplifying chemistry.

Source: top.besthdwallpapers.info

Source: top.besthdwallpapers.info

Hard Leather’s final stage begins around the 8th hour. The perfume is a blur of spicy sandalwood with tiny flickers of smoky oud, musk, and sweetness. It feels quite abstract on some levels, though the sandalwood is unmistakable. In its final moments, Hard Leather is merely a gauzy whisper of sweet, slightly spicy woodiness. The scent has astounding longevity on my perfume-consuming skin. Two big sprays (the equivalent of 3 enormous smears) lasted 14.25 hours, though it was quite patchy in spots and I actually thought it may have died after 12 hours. With only one spray, Hard Leather lasts just under 12.5 hours. The sillage is initially quite fierce, but, like all LM Parfums, softens and drops around the 90-minute mark. Using the smaller quantity, Hard Leather became a true skin on me at end of the 4th hour; with a larger application, at the end of the 6th.

I love Hard Leather, though it’s not perfect. I will never get tired of its opening, and how jaw-droppingly seductive it is. It is pure sex on a stick (or, in this case, sex in a bottle). I wish with all my heart that it would last forever, especially as I’m less enthused by the 2nd phase with all its Norlimbanol. Still, the aromachemical is miles away from the demonic toxicity of YSL‘s utterly heinous Noble Leather, and it certainly didn’t impact me in the same way. It’s also much softer and tamer in small quantities, so I’d gladly wear Hard Leather even with the bloody Norlimbanol. That should tell you how much I love that raunchy, sexual, primal start. It’s positively indecent — in the very best way possible! Hard Leather ends on a happy note, too, with creamy, rich, gloriously real Mysore sandalwood, warm vanilla, and, less excitingly, oud.

For all that I would like to drown myself in Hard Leather’s opening, for all its impact on me, I most definitely do NOT recommend the perfume to everyone. Those who disliked any of the fragrances that I’ve mentioned here — from Aoud Cuir d’Arabie and Cuir Mauresque, to Muscs Koublai Khan or Trayee — should stay away. Those who have issues with oud of any kind, especially aged agarwood, or who find animalic scents to be dirty, should avoid Hard Leather as well. People who like their leather to be more like suede or expensive handbags will find this scent to be far too raw for their tastes. And, as a whole, I don’t think Hard Leather is a fragrance that the vast majority of women would like on their own skin, though I think a lot would find it incredibly sexy on a man.

Hard Leather is a fragrance that skews sharply and unapologetically masculine, rendering things like Puredistance‘s glorious M extremely unisex in comparison. (I personally think that M really is unisex, but I know a number of women who feel they can’t wear it. That sentiment would be amplified by a thousand for Hard Leather.) I think the dryness of Hard Leather’s second phase may also be difficult for people of either gender who prefer a little more sweetness with their woods or animalic touches.

Amouage Opus VIISpeaking of that dryness, Hard Leather at the end of the second hour made me think of Amouage‘s Opus VII. The two fragrances are very different, particularly because of the herbal oddness of the fenugreek in Opus VII and the nature of the two musks. On my skin, the animalic elements in Opus VII turned into something strongly reminiscent of a wild cat enclosure at the zoo with peeing lions, instead of the scent of skin during sex. Opus VII is visually greener, with strong spices, and heavily peppered with ISO E Super. Yet both fragrances have an extreme darkness to them, and share oud, incense, sandalwood, leather tonalities, and amplifying synthetics with a bone-dry feel. I think Hard Leather is much less desiccated than Opus VII, and has sweeter, warmer elements, but, in terms of an aesthetic style, the two fragrances share some distant kinship, though I must stress again that they don’t smell anything alike.

Photo: Oleksiy Maksymenko. Source: FineArtAmerica. (Website link embedded within photo.)

Photo: Oleksiy Maksymenko. Source: FineArtAmerica. (Website link embedded within photo.)

Still, if Opus VII was your cup of tea and you didn’t find it too dry, oud-y or smoky, then you should definitely try Hard Leather. If neither Opus VII nor any of the other fragrances mentioned here were your style, Hard Leather won’t be either. In my case, I loathed Opus VII (thanks to the peeing lion and the ISO E Super), but I do love Hard Leather because of its greater kinship with fragrances like Cuir Mauresque, MKK, and Trayee. The raunchy sexuality of that opening phase is so beautifully balanced, melded so seamlessly with the other notes, that it is very tasteful in my eyes — which makes it even more seductive and hot. Perhaps the best way to describe it is to compare it to the height of foreplay, instead of anything more… climactic, shall we say. Hard Leather’s subsequent journey into the depths of a dark, smoky forest undergoing a drought is hardly as appealing, but the creamy, sweetened warmth of the final stage takes us back to bed, with a couple now sleeping off the after-effects of both stages in a haze of sandalwood, oud, and sweet muskiness. 

Unfortunately, none of this comes cheaply. From what I’ve gathered, and from my early taste of the 2014 LM Parfums fragrances that I tried in Paris, Laurent Mazzone’s new Intimacy Collection seeks to focus on more complex, sophisticated scents based on the most expensive of ingredients. Hard Leather is the first in that collection, and it is priced accordingly at €295. (The current extraits perfumes are €195, a €100 less.) I don’t know what the American price will be when it eventually hits these shores and comes to Osswald in New York, but €295 is $400 at today’s rate of exchange. On the other hand, Hard Leather is also pure parfum in concentration, and there is a 100 ml of it. It smells expensive; it includes incredibly costly ingredients like aged Laotian oud, iris, and, more importantly, rare, almost extinct Mysore sandalwood; and a single spray has great potency and longevity.

I’m the first one to decry perfumes that are over-priced for what they are, but I think you’re definitely getting your money’s worth with Hard Leather. It is worth every penny. In fact, if the perfume consisted solely of that smoking hot, steamy opening, but cost twice as much, I’d contemplate selling a kidney to buy it. My God, that opening… that opening…. I don’t know if I should take a freezing cold shower, or just spray on some more. 

Disclosure: sample provided by LM Parfums. That did not impact this review. I do not do paid reviews, my opinions are my own, and my first obligation is honesty to my readers. 

DETAILS:
Cost & Availability: Hard Leather is pure parfum extrait that is available only in a 100 ml/3.4 oz bottle which costs €295. It was released just today, 12/04/13, online, at LM Parfums. Samples of all LM Parfums extraits are usually available and priced at €19 for 5 ml size, and I see Hard Leather is also listed as of 12/14. Laurent Mazzone’s Premiere Avenue now has a decant of Hard Leather for that price as well. In the U.S.: Laurent Mazzone’s fragrances are sold exclusively at Osswald NYC, but they informed me on Twitter that they won’t receive Hard Leather until January 2014. I will try to update this post when they do. Outside the U.S.: You can find Hard Leather, along with all LM Parfums, and 5 ml samples of each at Laurent Mazzone’s own Premiere Avenue which ships throughout Europe. Hard Leather is not yet offered in decant form, but you can check back later as the perfume was just released today.  In the UK, the LM Parfums line is exclusive to Harvey Nichols. In Paris, LM Parfums are sold at Jovoy. In the Netherlands, you can find LM Parfums at ParfuMaria or Silks Cosmetics. In Germany, First in Fragrance carries the full line, and sells samples as well. You can also find LM Parfums at Essenza Nobile, Italy’s Vittoria Profumi, or Alla Violetta. In the Middle East, I found most of the LM Parfums line at the UAE’s Souq perfume site. For all other countries, you can find a vendor near you from Switzerland to Belgium, Lithuania, Russia, Romania, Croatia, Azerbaijan, and more, by using the LM Parfums Partner listing. Laurent Mazzone or LM Parfums fragrances are widely available throughout Europe, and many of those sites sell samples as well.