Guerlain Bois d'Arménie and Basma Jasmin

GUERLAIN BOIS D'ARMENIE: When I first sprayed Bois d'Arménie on my skin and took a deep inhale, I thought: "Oh my god. This is, like, smoky, forested genius!"

I just wish it stayed that way.

Created in 2006 by Annick Ménardo, the perfumer behind Dior Hypnotic Poison and Lolita Lempicka, Bois d'Arménie is said to mimic the scent of Papier d'Arménie -- paper coated with benzoin and burned as an ancient room and air freshener. While it leaps out of the gate as a bang-up wood and smoke fragrance (and I do mean bang-up, as in "Wow, this is nice!"), the benzoin-vanilla creeps in gradually until the entire fragrance is saturated with a soft, cupcake sweetness . . . and I'm sorry, but cupcakes just don't bang anything, up, down, or even sideways.

The good news is that Guerlain had the sense not to completely over-do the sugar content, so I can happily type these words that next appear on your screen: "The included vanilla content is restrained enough to allow the "bois" of Bois d'Arménie some space to breathe." The bad news is that it's the 21st century, we're still making fragrances based on the smell of ancient room-fresheners and I had to type those words at all.

I give it a silver medal in the fragrance sweepstakes, but I'd of easily flung the gold around its neck if Guerlain hadn't resorted to the obvious market-appeasing vanillafication of the incense genre. Not that I blame them; I mean, they are in the business of selling their fragrances -- no matter how beautiful the bottles look all perfectly lined-up on a freshly dusted store shelf -- and vanilla is a very popular essence. Just ask Nabisco.

Mark at Peredepierre writes: "The depth and beauty of it is apparent from the first spray . . . (but) BdA is one of those fragrances whose main fault may be that it is too beautiful; too soft and sweet."

I know it may sound like I'm quibbling over nothing ("Too beautiful? Is that even a real problem?"), but I concur.

BASMA JASMIN: Basma Jasmin is a big dose of pure jasmine, and seemingly little else.

After I applied a few sprays of the Basma Jasmin juice to my wrist, I dragged out my Le Labo Olfactionary and unscrewed the cap on the small vial of jasmine absolute -- yep, just like I thought. A dead ringer.

I can understand the desire of a perfumer to go all unfussy and back to basics, like maybe creating the boot-camp equivalent of a soliflore (a fragrance dominated by the scent of one particular flower), but I'm not so certain that Basma Jasmin is my type of boot-camp soliflore.

When jasmine essence is mixed and matched, or combined and enfolded, into a broader formula, it can be striking if not downright breathtaking; but featured as a solo act, with the volume cranked way up as it is here, it comes across as monotonous and overbearing. It's a quality jasmine, to be sure, but it lacks a good Greek Chorus to soften the blow or comment on its more charming characteristics.

That said, Basma Jasmin would be a perfect fragrance to use as a base if you're into layering your perfumes on your skin ("Hey, you got your Chanel on my Basma!" or something like that). Spray a lightly floral or sweetly fruity perfume over a layer of this potent jasmine brew and you'll likely experience the joy of jasmine in a whole new way.

Note: Just as a test of my own theory, I sprayed a layer of the Guerlain Bois d'Arménie over the Basma Jasmin I was already wearing. Bingo! The two fragrances brought out the best in each other -- the vanilla sweetness of Bois d'Arménie lent a soft femininity to the jasmine soliflore while the spicy Basma punched up the smoky forest tones in the Guerlain. Nice.