December 2008 Archives

Now that 2008 is wrapping up (and with a bang, not a whimper), I'm taking a look at some of the objects and experiences I enjoyed most this past year.

1.) Parfumerie Generale L'Ombre Fauve: Deep, rich and intensely enjoyable from start to finish, L'Ombre Fauve gave me insight into how razzle and dazzle a work of good perfumery can be, and this stuff is pure razzilly goodness.

Video clip with perfumer Pierre Guillaume, creator of the Parfumerie Generale line. He reminds me a bit of Rupert Everett.

2.) Deluxe: How Luxury Lost its Luster: an eerily prescient book by Newsweek writer Dana Thomas. In it, she details the extraordinary growth of the contemporary luxury industry, and how corporate behemoths, such as LVMH and PPR, sucked all the quality and craftsmanship out of formerly admirable design houses and made them dens of cheap, mass-produced bling, instead.

Ms. Thomas predicted that the chase for profit over quality would be the downfall of the luxury industry, and now we're watching as stores like Saks Fifth Avenue, Bergdorf Goodman and Neiman Marcus are slashing prices up to 75% just to move this logo-encrusted merchandise of dubious origin (Thomas insists she was given tours of Chinese factories producing goods that are allegedly "Made in Italy") off their shelves. A fascinating read, and I highly recommend it.

3.) Lars and the Real Girl: it had all the potential to be wrong, awful and creepy, but every single time the story got to a fork in the road, it always chose the most hopeful path, which, in the 21st century movie industry, is definitely the road less traveled.

4.) Hermes collapsible Kelly: an Hermes Kelly bag that's designed to fold flat and pack easily into a suitcase for use while traveling. It's beautiful, functional, and the best Christmas gift we ever thought to give. We heard the yelp of delighted surprise from four states away.

5.) Vivace Espresso Vita whole bean coffee: I start every morning with an Americano made from Vivace beans, fresh roasted out of a mom and pop facility in Seattle.

Best. Coffee. Ever.

6.) June and July in Maui: perfect weather, perfect scenery, perfect bliss. I also got to spend some real vacation time with my favorite sister and her husband (without the bickering adolescent children in tow). And now we have a president from Hawaii. Will he be perfect, too?

7.) The satirical video clip that made me laugh the hardest -- "Should The Government Stop Dumping Money Into A Giant Hole?":

8.) Craft Restaurant in Dallas:
When we first arrived in Dallas, we started our spelunking of the local restaurant scene, but after several very good yet utterly same-old same-old meals at allegedly the top spots in town, we realized that we were living right next to easily one of the more creative and best-run kitchens in Dallas, the Craft restaurant in the W Hotel.

So who needs to go through the bother of flagging down a taxi on a Friday night or trying to get a decent table at yet one more scene that thinks it's all that? Thanks to Dallas Craft chef Anthony Zappola, we no longer have to.

Video clip below of the one that started it all -- Craft NYC:

9.) Le Labo Olfactionary Kit:
Le Labo fragrances are terrific, and I think Le Labo is probably the one fragrance house from which I like the greatest percentage of releases. In an ideal world, I'd have a bottle each of their Patchouli 24, Labdanum 18, Rose 31, Poivre 23, Vetiver 40 and Musc 25.

But what I think I like best about Le Labo is their Olfactionary kit -- I've rescued several mistaken purchases with a few drops of this essence, or a single drop of that. Case in point, Serge Lutens Un Bois Sepia. The rich, woodsy Un Bois Sepia that I sampled was not the thin, sharp Un Bois Sepia that arrived several months later in the full bottle, and I was informed through the grapevine that the juice was rumored to have been reformulated into a much less attractive (and less expensive to produce) piece of work.

Well, I pulled out my Olfactionary, and two drops of labdanum essence and one drop of patchouli essence later and Un Bois Sepia was back to the somewhat sweet and deeply woodsy fragrance I thought I was purchasing in the first place. Take that, cruel reformulators!

10.) Ann Demeulemeester boots:
You know how you look for something that's just right, and sometimes make purchases that come close, but don't quite hit the mark, so you find yourself still looking anyway? That's the way I was with boots. I found a couple that came close, but they just didn't scratch that itch . . until I stumbled across Ann Demeulemeester. I haven't looked at another pair of boots since.

I guess that makes me Ann Demeulemeester boot monogamous.

So, Louise apparently thought that our lives would not be complete unless we had a loaf of decorated holiday sourdough bread . . . from France . . . cuz, you know, France isn't famous for anything other than sourdough bread.

The decorations are inedible, so I think we're just supposed to put the loaf on a plate and marvel at it. For the rest of our lives.

Gee, thanks Louise!

Yes, that's a big mushroom decoration that's shaped suspiciously like a giant phallus. I have no idea why.

And she also ordered us butter cookies. All the way from France. Because no one in the United States makes butter cookies, I guess?

Seriously, this is, like, globalization run amok: "I must send them butter cookies . . . from Paris! Because I can!"

The cookies are, at least, edible. And kind of cute. And ridiculously delicious. The bakery is called Poilâne, with two locations in Paris and one in London.

The only sharing will be of photos.

Note: Louise swears Poilâne is the best bakery in the world.

The Donna Karan Essence series works in much the same way as the Karl Lagerfeld Kapsule series and the recently discontinued Matthew Williamson Collection -- the individual fragrances are deliberately crafted as simple, somewhat light scents that can be worn individually or together.

Designers figure this type of fragrance collection will whack two moles with one hammer: 1.) it will be an extension of the common-sense notion of wardrobe layering to which consumers are already accustomed, and 2.) it will help sell more bottles at one time.

I mean, really -- when a sales rep tells you that the fragrances are part of a collection and designed to be worn together, are you going to spring for just one? There's a good chance you'll at least walk away with two, if not the whole caboodle. "Oh hell, why not," you'll think. "It's a collection, and once I start layering them together, it'll be like having entirely new perfumes on the shelf without having paid anything extra for them!"

I think I approach entire packages of chocolate chip cookies with much the same reasoned exposition of principles . . . or something like that.

The Donna Karan Essence collection consists of Labdanum, Wenge, Jasmine and Lavender. I went for the Labdanum and Wenge, natch -- I can't deny my woods and resins favoritism. They're both a bit spicy and sweet, with Labdanum performing rather true to ladbanum as a raw material (a kind of leathery and slightly musky beeswax-ish scent) while Wenge is sweeter, even mildly vanillic before it hits its woodsy, smoky drydown. I have no idea if this sweet, vanillic scent is at all reminiscent of actual Wenge tree resin.

Both fragrances smell fine on their own, but when layered together make for a rich and more complex piece -- a sweet and smoky incense.

No one seems to have the slightest idea what's in these fragrances, and the Donna Karan website isn't offering up any info besides stating that they're "elemental scents in their purest form," so I guess we're forced to take them at face value. The Wenge tree is presently listed on Wikipedia as an endangered tree species, so if this is true, it's likely that the essences are mostly (if not purely) synthetic.

Marina at Perfume Smellin' Things has a post from February of 2006 which mentions that the DK Esscence fragrances are priced at $165.00 for 100ML (3.4 ounces). Today, they're selling for half that -- a dramatic price reduction being another potential indicator of a mostly synthesized formulation, since natural materials that require hand-harvesting don't go down in price during highly inflationary economic periods.

A short video clip below of how genuine labdanum is collected from the resinous shrubs. The resin is combed off the rakes once it's been collected:

Note: The DK Essence Wenge lasts quite a bit stronger and longer on the skin than the DK Essence Labdanum. After a few hours of wear, Labdanum starts to come and go while Wenge is still chugging steadily along.

OFF TOPIC:

Oh, hey! Look who got a photo credit and a blog name-drop in Robert Wilonsky's Dallas Observer blog, "Unfair Park": From Highland Park Village, Window Shopping a Fashionable Depression

IN RELATED NEWS:

Even Fashion Giants Chanel and LVMH Forced to Economise

"A week ago Chanel, privately owned and secretive about its affairs, called off a glitzy art show as it was about to arrive in London from New York. Over the weekend trade unions reported that the fashion house was to lay off all of its 200 Paris staff who are on fixed-term or temporary contracts."

It was only months ago that both LVMH and Chanel were issuing soothing sounds to nervous markets, implying that growth was still on schedule, and Asian and Russian customers would carry them through. This is no longer the case. Asia and Russia are pummeled by the downturn as much as any Western economy, and we're watching logo-driven luxury tossed under the bus by cash strapped consumers.

I expect a tsunami of so-called luxury goods to hit the second-hand markets in 2009 as former glitz addicts view their once prized handbag, jewelry and shoe collections as potential sources of income.

IN MORE RELATED NEWS:

I'm a day late to the party, but I was reading Dave Barry's hilarious 'The Year in Review published Sunday in the Washington Post, and while nearly the entire thing is brilliant political satire, this quote stood out as the sharpest tack of the bunch:

"The worsening economy takes center stage in FEBRUARY when, amid much fanfare, Congress passes, and President Bush signs, an "economic stimulus package" under which the federal government will give taxpayers back several hundred dollars apiece of their own money, the idea being that they will use this money to revive the U.S. economy by buying television sets that were made in China. This will seem much more comical in the fall."

Aint it the truth.

Regarding Le Labo Vanille 44, Now Smell This presents a statement on their website, framing it as a quote, though I'm not certain from where the quote originated: "Vanille 44 doesn't smell like vanilla... It is a complex association of amber and woody incense that will unveil after its first taste of musk, a profound smell of vanilla. This fragrance is just a poem."

Now, when you go to Le Labo's own website, this is what they have to say about their own Paris exclusive, Vanille 44: "Well our Vanille 44 does not smell of just vanilla. At least it doesn't smell of vanilla straight away. We could say that this theme is a subtle ambery incensy woody sexy note that once acquainted with your premium pashmina sweater will release the finest of the vanilla bourbons that you've experienced."

If you'll notice, there is no mention of how Vanille 44 doesn't smell like vanilla. I'm even including a screenshot of the Le Labo website for reference purposes -- cuz, you know, you can't always take my word for it (just ask Renè Schifferle).

Oh, wait! I just visited The Perfumed Court, and it seems like Now Smell This is quoting Le Labo via The Perfumed Court, except that there is no quote on the Le Labo website that says what The Perfumed Court published on their site, so unless the women running The Perfumed Court received some personal email from the people at Le Labo stating that Vanille 44 doesn't smell like vanilla, then we're all just stuck in our very own perfumed game of Telephone.

"Perfumed games of telephone mostly end in tears . . . mostly."

But why does any of this even matter? Because Le Labo's Vanille 44 DOES smell like vanilla -- a LOT like vanilla -- and saying that Vanille 44 is anything but a straight-forward vanilla from beginning to end would be a mistake. It's not as rich in vanilla as Guerlain Jicky, or as pure and unrelenting a vanilla as Indult Tihota, but it's definitely and unmistakably vanilla, with Le Labo making no official statements to the contrary.

The Le Labo site lists the ingredients for Vanille 44 as follows: bergamot, incense, mandarine, gaiac, muscenone, pipol, hedione and (of course) the all important vanilla bourbon -- though wtf is pipol? I can't find a single mention of it on the net in regards to perfumery, though I did find piperitol, a material with an herbal odor that naturally occurs in eucalyptus leaf, cascarilla bark and artemisia oil -- is this the same thing?

I'm guessing that, basically, pipol is the new mystery meat. Moving right along . . .

After previously sniffing at the Le Labo Tokyo exclusive, Gaiac 10, I have to say that the gaiac oil in Vanille 44 is quite prevalent in the mix, creating a bridge that spans from the opening citrus notes through the incense heart and right on up to the musk infused drydown, but through it all, the vanilla is the star player and you never (ever) forget that you're wearing a vanilla fragrance. Not really my thing, but if you're a big fan of vanilla perfumes, you should be booking your trip to France about right now, as you can only purchase Vanille 44 at the Colette concept store in Paris.

The best reaction to the news of Vanille 44 as the Paris Le Labo exclusive is from CarmenCanada at POL: "I guess I was miffed that Le Labo thought this particularly represented Paris . . . "

Personally, I like Le Labo's London exclusive Poivre 23 the most out of all their city exclusives I've yet tested -- a peppery vanilla with an attractively smoky little kick. It runs circles around Vanille 44 (and Gaiac 10, and Aldehyde 44). I still have yet to test their Los Angeles exclusive, Musc 25, but I have a sample of it sitting on my table, patiently waiting. I hear through the grapevine that it's pretty darn great.

Note: if you have your heart set on a vanilla-incense fragrance, I don't think Vanille 44 is going to scratch that itch. I'd recommend Eau d'Italie Baume du Doge or Guerlain Bois d'Arménie, instead.

Since the original Black Friday (the first day of shopping after Thanksgiving) still left retailers seeing red, analysts are hoping that today, the first shopping day after Christmas, might finally be the shopping Friday that retailers need to nudge their books into the black. They're wistfully calling it Black Friday II.

The BF and I took a drive yesterday in search of an eggnog latte (which we just missed by, like, five minutes -- damn you Starbucks!), but when we were in the parking lot at Highland Park Village, a high-end shopping area in the wealthy Highland Park district of Dallas, I was struck by the number of "SALE" signs in the store windows, not to mention some of the breathtakingly steep discounts advertised.

If this kind of discount desperation doesn't bring shoppers to the stores, then nothing will. And, again, I have to wonder if this kind of discounting and widespread sale-mongering isn't going to leave a permanent impression on consumers. Once you realize that retailers will mark their merchandise down 60%-75% to sell it, then why in the world would anyone in his/her right mind purchase it at full price ever again?

Holding out for a better price is a game of chicken that the consumer can always win.

I mean, even Chanel and Jimmy Choo had "SALE" signs in their windows. At least a few of the customers who shelled out full-price at the beginning of the season for the latest Choo bag must be kicking themselves right now -- "Crap! If I'd just waited five months, I could have paid half that!"

Photos below of Highland Park Village store windows on Christmas day, 2008:

Translation: "For god's sake, will somebody just buy something already!"

Jimmy Choo: Even our desperate sales are sexy and glamorous.

Nothing says 'recession' like a sparkly St. John ensemble -- at a discount!

Cole Haan: Even our desperate sales are bland and practical.

That paper sign taped to the window is one breath away from liquidation.

"Enter into our exclusive palace of luxury -- where everything must go!"

The Chanel mannequins are oh so bored with our economic woes.

Poor Escada, but "sale sale sale sale" pretty much says it all.

The sign in the front of the shop said "3 for 1" . . . really.

Just for reference purposes, the Highland Park area is considered a city of its own, and is the 41st wealthiest city in the U.S., the 19th wealthiest city with a population of over one thousand, and the 3rd wealthiest location in the state of Texas by per capita income. Highland Park Village is also the same shopping center where last Christmas I saw some little girl, who couldn't have been more than 10 years old, stomping along the sidewalk in a full-length fur overcoat (and yes, the fur was real).

The truly wealthy of the world are recession proof. The theoretically wealthy, however, are obviously cutting back.

I thought I'd dig into the Private Blend coffret and take a quick sample of a few of the Fords that I haven't yet tried, plus mention feedback from holiday perfume gifts.

TOM FORD TUSCAN LEATHER: Starts off kind of sharp and chemically enhanced, but eventually mellows out into a casual, smooth fragrance that smells a bit like a new leather jacket with some powdered sugar in the pockets. A unisex fragrance that leans more masculine than feminine but can easily swing both ways.

New York Magazine says it smells like cocaine: "'That's what everyone says,' admits a counterboy at the Ford store on Madison, who adds that one customer even bought a bottle because he thought it smelled like coke."

So now you know what fragrance to wear to the clubs on a Friday night. Just don't lean against any reflective surfaces.

TOM FORD BLACK VIOLET: Should have been called 'Black Oakmoss', 'cuz this stuff is seriously mossy! Dark and kind of bitter. I can't really imagine a lot of women going nuts for Black Violet -- even though the drydown phase is woodsy and warm, it takes a long time to get there. Not to say that there aren't female perfume fans who will happily jump on its groove train, but it's a fragrance that will likely go over better with the males in the house. Even then, the bitterness of the moss makes it an acquired taste.

When all is said and done, I'd rather a bottle of Ford's Amber Absolute than either Tuscan Leather or Black Violet, though Tuscan Leather might work better as a warmer weather fragrance than Amber Absolute. It has a lighter touch.

Feedback from friends and relatives:

This holiday season has been full of perfume gifting, so you get to hear some quick opinions from sniffers unaffiliated with blogging and who wear the fragrances out into the real world rather than mostly sniffing at samples from the comfort of the living room sofa ("Hey, I think I'm talking about ME!").

SERGE LUTENS SA MAJESTE LA ROSE: "Oh, how I love this. This is everything I ever wish to be. I am a bit 'young' for it -- I feel like this belongs to a 45 year old, Chanel wearing Momma, gently kissing her sleeping child's fair hair (washed and put to sleep by the nanny) before exiting to the Symphony Ball. This is INCREDIBLY sophisticated. I must not place her next to any of my others, they get all a-twitter and anxious. And what a bottle she is, very cool with an Ace of Hearts card on the front."

L'ARTISAN PARFUEMEUR L'EAU D'AMBRE: "This one I'm afraid sits in the corner, in the hopes that over time, evaporation will ocurr and I will simply be left with a recylable glass bottle. Much akin to walking into a bathroom at Heathrow after too many people have come off international flights and are freshening up."

Well, drat. I guess it was unlikely of me to bat 1000 in the gift giving department.

M. MICALLEF NOTE AMBREE: "The scent totally made my day - you have no idea. I've already applied twice (Is that bad? It's too good!). It warms so nicely. As I wear tonight, I will try to think of more descriptors for the yumminess (which is not very descriptive!) . . . I keep sniffing at my arm!"

LALIQUE ENCRE NOIR EDT: "My wife loves the cologne. Thanks again for sending it to me." -- yes, it's tough to get the straight guys to say a whole lot.

SOLANGE STONED: "My immediate impression was 'HABANITA!' It really is a great deal like Habanita, but, as I noted in the Scent of the Day thread (on Perfume of Life), it's got the cigarette note (which I really hate) turned way down, and there's a berry note of some sort (raspberry?) added. I'm thoroughly enjoying it . . aaaaaaaaaand now, I'm well into the drydown, and it is beeyootiful. It's reminding me a bit of Le Dix now, but warmer."

ANNICK GOUTAL AMBRE FETICHE: "I like it a lot - somewhat more intense than the last one you sent (Parfumerie Generale L'Oiseau de Nuit) that I love so much. I wore the perfume to work yesterday, and enjoyed it immensely. I do have a light hand during the daytime hours, and I didn't have too much of it on. I got a scent of it every now and then, but I don't think anyone else thought I was overpowering."

ANNICK GOUTAL ENCENS FLAMBOYANT: "Wonderfully vibrant and something truly different . . . I find it to be a definitively (casual) fragrance, but a 'big' one at that. The Goutal bottles are very romantic, what with the fluted glass and gold ribbons."

LE LABO ROSE 31: "I came back tonight to a great surprise, especially that I got back into perfumes lately. I have to say this one is amazing. The smell is great and I love the personalized bottle."

And that's that.

Okay everyone -- I'm out the door and on my way to enjoying good wine, good food and even better company. I hope you all have a great Christmas!

OFF TOPIC:

It wasn't a very jolly season this year for retailers: U.S. Store Traffic Fell 24% on Pre-Christmas Weekend

Ugh. I feel deeply sorry for shop owners and people trying to keep consumer product businesses afloat right now. The sales are great, but the underlying economics behind the steep discounting is terrifying.

STEPHANIE DE SAINT AIGNAN UN THE AU SAHARA: Au Sahara was a bit of a surprise. I am not a fan of the smell of tea, and less a fan of the smell of tea in fragrances, but I am a fan of Paul Bowles' novel The Sheltering Sky and Un the Au Sahara is alleged to have been inspired by Bowles' simultaneously stark and sumptuous prose -- so much sun, sand and heat, so little emotional warmth.

The Lucky Scent website states that Un the Au Sahara is a tribute to love in the Sahara desert, but that's film director Bernardo Bertolucci's mangled interpretation of the story. Bowles' original vision depicts a jaded, adventure-seeking couple's ultimately futile attempts to survive the brutal, dehumanizing forces of nature while still reeling from the sucker punch of culture shock. The last section of the novel, where the husband dies in the middle of nowhere and the wife is carted off by a desert Arab to be his shiny new toy, isn't necessarily the stuff of perfume and poetry . . . "Hmmm? This? Oh, it's a perfume that's based on a novel about death, psychological despair and sexual imprisonment in the Sahara. You like?"

But back to the fragrance -- it's actually a nice enough piece of work, the tea note is low and sweet with a hint of mint, like a dark, sugared brew, and there's a dusty, spicy quality that blows through the heart of it. The patchouli in the base is wooded and dry, and I found the whole thing to be a very comfortable, wearable example of mildly exotic, unisex perfumery, like sitting at the weathered table of an outdoor cafe on the side of a sun-baked Moroccan street. In fact, if anyone were to ask me, "Hey, do you think I should buy a bottle of Un the Au Sahara?" -- I'd say, "Sure, why not? And you can hang out by me once you've sprayed some on!"

But this Sheltering Sky nonsense? They might want to rethink that angle.

Video clip below from Bertolucci's romanticized film version:

KARL LAGERFELD KAPSULE WOODY: Resembles wood the way an abstract portrait resembles its human subject -- kind of, but only if you squint.

Still, one has to be grateful that they named the collection Kapsule; having to type "Karl Lagerfeld Woody" with a straight face would have been simply too much to bear.

1.) Swiss fragrance house LesNez is nearing release of a new fragrance titled Manoumalia. I reviewed two other LesNez fragrances here (l'Antimatiere and Let Me Play the Lion), and Manoumalia sounds like it might be a bit of an exotic departure from their previous works.

Perfumer Isabelle Doyen was behind the first three LesNez fragrances (Doyen is in-house perfumer for Annick Goutal, and was behind the recent release of the richly layered Les Orientalistes series), but Sandrine Videault steps up to the plate for Manoumalia. Ms. Videault is a former student of the late master perfumer Edmond Roudnitska, and there's always a bit of a buzz in fragrance circles when any Roudnitska-trained perfumer comes out with a new piece.

Marie-Helen at The Scented Salamander has an English translation of the promotional materials posted on her blog, and I received an email from the LesNez people today telling me that a sample has been shipped out and I should receive it in early January. And hey, Marin -- it has ylang ylang in it!

Video clip of interview with Dr. Silvio Levi, Italian distributor for LesNez -- unfortunately for us monolinguists in the crowd, it's not in English:

(my apologies to Renè Schifferle, founder of LesNez, for originally misidentifying the interviewee -- what? The man speaks Italian! How was I to know he wasn't the president of a Swiss fragrance company? *sigh*)

2.) Could Perfume Beat the Recession Blahs?:

The Starwood Capital Group is ramping up the growth of fragrance house Annick Goutal, a property Starwood inherited as part of a $3.2 billion acquisition in 2005. While the talk about town has been the sizing down of the luxury giants, the continued revenue growth of Goutal and Starwood Group's positive attitude toward the brand reveals that the fragrance industry might possibly be one of the few survivors of the current economic tailspin.

"'It's a bit of a gem,' said Russell Sternlicht, managing director of Starwood Capital", and Starwood is aggressively polishing that gem with around thirty boutique openings in the next five years, the introduction of new fragrances (the aforementioned Les Orientalistes series, plus a new Japanese inspired floral for February, 2009), a lingerie line, and plans for household linens, cosmetics, jewelry and potpourri. The idea for the installation of Annick Goutal spas within Starwood's many hotel properties has also been mentioned.

A recent discussion on the Perfume of Life forum mentions that Starwood initially had little interest in developing the Goutal brand -- after all, it was a small company packaged into a multi-billion dollar acquisition deal -- but Goutal appears to be one of Starwood's few bright lights in the present economy, so they're gonna let it shine.

Andrew Calvo writes: "Starwood Capital's ability to make a purchase and reinvent that purchase by almost turning it inside out, and then growing it into something amazing is always interesting to watch. Whenever Starwood announces a move, I always consider how that purchase will evolve beyond what is said and what is assumed."

Note: Starwood also owns an 86% stake in the Baccarat Company, and I would be surprised if we didn't see crossover among these two brands in the future. Baccarat Crystal bottles for Annick Goutal fragrances? I can think of about a zillion people that would go bonkers for such a pairing. Of course, I'll probably find out that they've been doing it all along . . . it's not like an investment group doesn't know how to maximize its portfolio.

Note: And I just answered my own question . . .

Related news: High Growth Forecasted for the World Fragrances & Perfumes Market: "Given the increasing willingness among Asian women to use a famous brand to improve their image, opportunities abound in these markets. In the Middle Eastern market, especially Saudi Arabia, close to 84% of women utilize perfumes, while ... 53% of the men utilize aftershave/male fragrance."

Oh, so that's why Ormonde Jayne just opened a boutique in Dubai. Smart.

3.) Chanel Pulls the Life Support Plug on its Mobile Art Show:

"Chanel's Mobile Art exhibition that was slated to travel to major cities worldwide in a Space-Age pre-fab structure by architect Zaha Hadid is over. 'Considering the current economic crisis, we decided it was best to stop the project,' said a Chanel spokeswoman. 'We will be concentrating on strategic growth investments.'"

Ouch. When Chanel execs start bowing to economic reality, the party is way over. Video clip of the canceled product promotion/art exhibition below:

In related news -- Crisis Taking the Shine out of Luxury: "In just a year, said a Paris bank analyst, solid groups such as Switzerland's Richemont, which owns the brands Cartier and Montblanc, or France's LVMH, which owns Vuitton and Gucci, have lost 40 percent of their share value . . . LVMH, the world's leading luxury conglomerate, saw its third quarter growth sliced 50 percent in comparison to the first two terms in 2008."

The article goes on to mention that the watch sector has been especially hard hit, with Swiss watch exports dropping more than 15%. French champagne exports to the U.S. are down 17%.

And in even more related news -- Louis Vuitton drops plans for flagship store in Tokyo: "Louis Vuitton, the world's biggest luxury goods company, has scrapped a plan to open a Louis Vuitton flagship store in the Ginza, the Tokyo shopping district, as a spreading recession takes the luster off designer brands."

If you're already aware of how aggressively Louis Vuitton has been pushing into Japan and the rest of Asia, and how much LV now depends on the Japanese consumer for its revenue stream (Japan is responsible for about 25% of all global luxury sales), this is shocking news, especially considering that LV execs were sounding the All Clear! message only seven months ago.

4.) Oscar de la Renta Announces the release of Sheer Freesia:

Just in time to miss the holiday shopping season, the house of Oscar de la Renta is slated to release a new fragrance in the consumer doldrum month of January. It will be titled, 'Sheer Freesia': "Sheer Freesia was inspired from the garden of de la Renta's Connecticut home. Freesia are well-known for their sweet citrusy perfume and long vase life. The flowers are also among de la Renta's favorites."

Promoted as a limited edition item, it's $21.00 an ounce and available at Macy's, so how exclusive can it actually be? The perfume will be produced by Oscar de la Renta fragrances which is owned by Sanofi Beaute, a unit of Sanofi-Aventis, a globally diversified healthcare/pharmaceutical company . . . and nothing says limited-edition, high-class quality like a perfume from a global pharmaceutical company.

Please wake me when this nightmare is over.

Note: My bad -- Oscar de la Renta Parfums is now owned by L'Oreal, which purchased the rights from YSL earlier this year, and apparently after the article I linked to which mentioned ownership by Sanofi-Aventis, the pharmaceutical company. Hmph. So hey, L'Oreal is at least a gigantic global beauty conglomerate that might have a hair's chance of doing a better job with a fragrance than Sanofi-Aventis. Though it still sounds rather cheap and bland.

5.) Everything Old is New . . . Again:

Take a look at this video clip from 1968, where the future of fashion is imagined. Some of the future-fashion styles aren't too far off the mark:

6.) Anna Wintour is on the Outs:

"The word on the street is that Anna Wintour, "Vogue's" U.S. editor in chief, is considering retirement. Aliona Doletskaya, the editor in chief of "Vogue's" Russian edition, has been on the short list of Wintour successors for some time now."

It now makes sense why Time Magazine would name Anna Wintour as #1 on its worst fashion faux pas list for 2008. No one's afraid of the Red Queen when she's about to lose her grip on the crown.

7.) Bill Blass Throws in the Towel:

"Nearly a decade after Bill Blass retired from Seventh Avenue, the company that bears his name is closing, with many of its remaining staff expected to leave this week. According to current and former designers who have carried on the collection in recent years, the company will close its showroom at 550 Seventh Avenue and eliminate about 30 remaining jobs there as early as Friday."

The company was put up for sale earlier this year by its cash-desperate parent company, NexCen Brands. Designer Peter Som, who was named head designer for Bill Blass women's wear in July of just last year and had been recently working for the label without pay, departed in October of 2008 and was never replaced.

Video clip below of the Bill Blass Fall 2008 collection, which I believe was the last runway collection shown for the label. The Spring 2009 runway show was canceled due to lack of funds:

Related News: Italian fashion house Gianfranco Ferre has vacated its Manhattan digs (Dior is moving in) and is shedding various holdings. Hot young design duo Tommaso Aquilano and Roberto Rimondi of 6267 were recently hired on to breathe new life into the languishing brand, but that just might turn out to be a case of too little, too late.

Video clip below of Aquilano and Rimondi's first collection for Ferre, Spring 2009:

I don't focus a lot of my attention on the older, more established brands because their products are mostly so well known as to have galaxies of information already named after them, and also because their fragrances tend to be conservative to the point of tedium -- but it's always a good idea to drive-by the old neighborhood once in a while to check up on the senior citizens and see what they're up to.

From the likes of Rose Barbare and Coromandel, cribbing from the whippersnappers is apparently what the senior citizens are hip-deep up to!

CHANEL COROMANDEL: Coromandel bears striking similarities to Serge Lutens Borneo 1834, but toned down and gussied up for a softer, more mannered crowd.

While Borneo 1834 is a cult patchouli fragrance with a monster-sized camphor opening that takes its sweet time to arrive at its deep, woodsy and dry cocoa destination, Coromandel dispenses with the three hour camphor ride and bustles into the woods and cocoa almost immediately (with a pit-stop at the golden honey and vanilla shop, natch), providing for a much more pleasant and wearable experience for all involved.

While it's a bit of a brain twister to type "patchouli fragrance" and "Chanel" in the same sentence, it's also refreshing to see an established house paying attention to contemporary trends. Just when smaller niche players are capturing market share by seriously pumping out the sweet ambers, incense woods and patchouli masterworks, Chanel comes out with an ambered patchouli of its own, slaps a "Les Exclusifs" label on it and makes it artificially scarce by offering it for sale in huge bottles and only in their own boutiques. I'm kind of swooning at the sheer marketing genius behind it all.

The fact that it so closely resembles a Serge Lutens fragrance, one of the most artistic and cutting-edge of the contemporary niche lines, only impresses me more, 'cause if you're going to snag someone's thunder, it should be the stuff with the loudest sis-boom-bang, right? Well, the House of Lutens is nothing if not some serious sis-boom-bang.

Note of interest: Christopher Sheldrake, perfumer for Serge Lutens, is credited as co-creator of Coromandel along with Jacques Polge.

Other opinions:

Dane at Peredepierre: "Sweet, feminine chalky notes contrast with the damp, earthy smell of the patchouli and the result is truly breathtaking. This could easily have been part of the Serge Lutens collection . . . "

Abigail at I Smell Therefore I Am: "Coromandel is Chanel's most daring fragrance among the Les Exclusifs offerings."

Cris at Perfume Critic: "Jacques Polge, the fabulous nose who miraculously blended this patchouli-fragrance, should win the "Perfumery Oscar" for this creation."

The official story is that Coromandel was developed as a reference to Coco Chanel's love for the elaborate and often jeweled Chinese lacquered screens that were shipped to Europe via India's Coromandel coast, but the reality is that Chanel needed a walloping patchouli number to keep itself relevant for a new generation of fragrance consumers.

You can only sell so many bottles of Chanel No. 5 before the old saying of familiarity breeding contempt starts chewing its way through your quarterly reports.

GUERLAIN ROSE BARBARE: Released in 2005 as part of the "L'Art et la Matiere" series (the Guerlain equivalent to the Chanel "Les Exclusifs" line), Rose Barbare has the good sense to remind me of numerous other contemporary fragrances -- and none of them from Guerlain.

The concession to contemporary trends that Guerlain appears to be making with Rose Barbare is with the use of Middle-Eastern spices and materials, resulting in a spin on the Middle Eastern attar. Amouage has been successfully kicking ass and taking names in this regard for years, and for the Guerlain brand to remain viable in a market that's always looking for the new and the now, it needed to throw down and tussle with the niche players.

The Guerlains I've sampled before today have all been rather staid affairs -- quality numbers, yes, but lacking vigor: Spiritueuse Double Vanille, Bois d'Arménie, Sous le Vent, Chamade Pour Homme, Habit Rouge and Jicky. I didn't remember sampling half of these, if that gives you any indication of how memorable they are, but with Rose Barbare, Guerlain wants you to remember. They want you to think, "This isn't what I expected from a Guerlain rose" -- a dark, Turkish rose from Grasse blended with musk, moss and patchouli, zingy aldehydes, and a warm, lingering hedione.

Chandler Burr describes Rose Barbare as one of the best rose fragrances on the market, but since he's also waxed rapturous about Paestum Rose by Eau d'Italie and fairly ecstatic about Cannabis Rose by Fresh, I think it's clear the man just likes roses.

Me? I think it's nice that Guerlain is shaking things up a bit with a slightly edgy, more contemporary take on the rose fragrance than I would have given them credit for being able to produce, not to mention that the rose absolute from Grasse in the thing is downright smashing! Absolutes from Grasse are like catnip to perfumers, but because of their great expense in relation to most other perfume materials, they're rarely used. The Guerlain execs wisely gave the go-ahead on this one, and the Grasse absolute makes the cake.

Rose Barbare is shadowy without being overly dark and heavy, can be easily worn by both men and women, and because of its unisex tendencies, can get dressed up or dressed down right along with you. No small feat in and of itself. Rose Barbare is available exclusively from Guerlain boutiques and a smattering of licensed resellers.

So, it's like a discount wonderland out there right now. I mean, when was the last time you saw Alexander McQueen merchandise marked down 60%? Right, me neither. It's bad that the economy is in a tailspin, but it certainly makes for great Christmas shopping.

I picked up this clutch below as a gift for . . . god, I don't know. I'll think of someone! It was too good a deal to pass up, and the thing was way too funky-cool to let sit forlornly on a discount rack, as if no one wanted it, when I so clearly know about fifteen people who do. Or will!

The leather is smooth, ridiculously soft and a brilliant navy blue -- not a dark navy, but a genuine marine navy. The hardware is solid and gleaming, and the little Royal Guard charm dangling from a ring hook is hilarious. The entire thing is completely frivolous, and it'll make someone's day in the most inane and yet absolutely satisfying way.

I had to take photos. It was just too giddily great to keep all to myself. How come they don't make wallets this awesome for guys? Please, someone tell me they do!

This morning, I sprayed on two samples from the B Never Too Busy to Be Beautiful line, Exhale and A Thousand Kisses Deep.

Exhale started off very strong on the moss/juniper, while A Thousand Kisses Deep initially seemed to aspire to the sweet-oriental throne, but twenty minutes after applying, I was coughing and sneezing so badly that I had to wash both of the fragrances off. The moment I subjected my skin to an intense soap and water scrubbing session, the coughing and sneezing ceased.

I don't know what's in this line that caused the reaction, and I don't know if it was the fault of one of the fragrances or both (I have my suspicions that it was the Exhale), but my entire physical system went into violent rejection mode. This happens very rarely for me. Just an FYI.

Luca Turin offered up a five star glowing review for their Breath of God fragrance for the recent update to The Guide, so maybe he can be the one that bites the bullet and reviews the rest of these. I'm staying the hell away.

Note: I purchased both samples from The Perfumed Court, but when I visited the B Never Too Busy to Be Beautiful website, I couldn't find any mention of the Exhale fragrance. I wonder if it's been pulled from production?

UPDATE:

I tested out the B Never Too Busy To Be Beautiful Dirty -- I liked it. Quite a bit. It's a solid men's fragrance in that I Want To Smell Like A High End Luxury Car Garage kind of way: cool, shadowy, oil-slicked and entirely successful in what it sets out to do.

Any man who is completely disinterested in smelling like a bouquet of lavender dunked in a bucket of orange juice might find BNTBTBB Dirty worth a sniff.

OFF TOPIC (and not family friendly):

At first I thought this was a bad photoshopped joke, but then I discovered (to my horror) that it was for very real. I'm not sure what I find more frightening -- the fact that these jeans exist, or that somebody sells them?

(click below to continue reading post)

In Roja Dove's book, The Essence of Perfume, he describes how Gaiac oil is used in perfumery: "Guaiacwood essential oil is obtained from Bulnesia Sarmienti and is sometimes referred to as Champaca Wood. Like most wood notes, it is used generally to add to a scent's lasting quality but, as it lacks the finesse of many other wood notes, it is generally used in more commercial products than high grade fragrances."

Well, so much for that. With the increasing proliferation of fragrances on the market churned out by an even more dizzying multiplication of perfume houses, it was only a matter of time before the ticket buying public got bored with the same old headliners ("Tuberose? Again?!!"), sending the producers grabbing at the D-List for something fresh: "What's your name -- Ms. Gaiac? Can you dance? Can you sing? Congratulations, honey, you're a star. Next!"

LE LABO GAIAC 10: It's good to keep in mind that Gaiac 10 is Le Labo's Tokyo boutique exclusive, and that when it comes to fragrance, Japan is the birthplace of the transparent trend (i.e. so minimal you won't even notice it's there).

When I think back on the one time I visited Tokyo (back in 2006), I can't recall a single instance where I was struck by any perfume hanging in the air, any wafts of scent in an elevator, lingering in the back seat of a taxi or filling the air of a crowded subway car. This cultural aversion to powerhouse fragrances is reflected in Gaiac 10, a fairly one-dimensional piece of perfumery with a surface so smooth there's very little to actually grab ahold of.

Part of me wants to believe the Le Labo people accidentally released a perfume they'd forgotten to complete and are now running in desperate circles around their Paris offices, screaming, crying, chain smoking (sometimes all three at once) and wondering how in the world they can possibly salvage their reputation once word gets out, but hey, Gaiac 10 is for the land of a hundred thousand ways to serve tea but please don't wear a complicated fragrance we can actually smell, thank you -- so I shouldn't be all that surprised.

If you like minimalism, you'll love Gaiac 10, but if you hanker for depth, layers and steep complexity in your fragrances, this particular number isn't for you. The one thing it does have in its favor is that it's a warm (rather than stark) version of minimalism -- put it on your skin and it smells very much like your own 98.8 degree human flesh, but as if sniffed through a filter of blonde-hued tree resins and soft musk, and now that I put it that way, it sounds kind of attractive, doesn't it?

I'm a woefully underpaid shill.

Listed notes: gaiac, cedar, musk and olibanum. Since there's a "10" in the name, that means there are 10 ingredients to the mix, Le Labo's just not telling us what the other six are. The b****es.

Note: The Perfumed Court site states that four different types of musk are utilized in Gaiac 10. That still leaves us with 3 unknowns.

M. MICALLEF GAIAC: M. Micallef has their own Gaiac fantasy, but with a revved up, amped up supporting cast for a richer, sweeter take on gaiac than what Le Labo offers.

Treating gaiac oil for what it is -- an excellent supporting element -- M. Micallef sugars & spices it up for Western consumers unafraid of goosing the noses of everyone within a twenty foot radius. Gaiac is still a prevalent scent note, but as a rounding influence rather than flattening the piece like an anvil falling from 15 storys up.

Vanilla and clove are both prominent within the mix, with vetiver in the base to lend the gaiac wood some depth, much the way Le Labo utilized cedar and olibanum to add some topography to what would otherwise have been the flat earth of Gaiac 10. The vanilla in the M. Micallef Gaiac is a main note that's present from start to finish, though the sweetness softens as the hours pass until the drydown achieves a vaguely woodsy and pleasantly gourmand quality.

I doubt that gaiac will be a note I chase after in perfumery, but both of the above fragrances are decent pieces of work, though I can think of several other woodsy (or woodsy amber, in the case of M. Micallef) perfumes off the top of my head that I think are worth more attention: Guerlain Bois d'Arménie, Annick Goutal Ambre Fetiche, Isotta Fraschini Uomo, Parfumerie Generale Bois Blond, Eau d'Italie Bois d'Ombrie, Le Labo Rose 31, Armani Prive Bois d'Encens, Tauer Perfumes L'Air du Desert Marocain and Chanel Sycamore.

Okay, those weren't really just off the top of my head, but you get the picture.

I know, you're wondering when I'll actually get back to writing about new perfumes I've sampled, but I received the Roja Dove The Essence of Perfume book in the mail yesterday (Now Smell This offers a rather extensive, and sometimes critical, review), and it's so beautifully compiled that I wanted to share some photos from it.

Roja Dove exhibits a near single-minded passion for fragrance and its history, and while the lofty copy can sometimes border on cringe-inducing (especially when the copy veers off into effusive praise of Mr. Dove himself), it's good to keep in mind that the Roja Dove boutique at Harrods in London is considered by many perfume fans and fanatics to be almost a holy shrine to the art and commerce of perfumery, with Roja Dove as chief worshipper.

There's a quote in the book from Journalist Hannah Betts from Saturday Time Magazine. She writes: "Talking scent with Mr. Dove is as rich a pleasure as it is a privilege. Everyone in the world of fragrance could do with a good Roja-ing." And if you can't do your Roja-ing in person, then "The Essence of Perfume" will have to suffice.

The book explores perfumery from the ground up, including theories of how we smell and why we choose particular fragrances for ourselves.

There is a great deal of information on the history of perfumery and its cultural significance, including the rise of the modern perfumer and the development of the raw materials, both organic and synthetic, for use in fragrances.

Mr. Dove offers a brief explanation of the major categories of perfume, plus subcategories. All the information in the book is accompanied by lavish pictorials, so it's no wonder that I'm hip-deep in the thing since it arrived at my doorstep.

A lesson in materials and the regions of the world from where they originate.

There's a gratifying focus on the classics, paying homage to the works that paved the way for contemporary perfumery. Reproductions of striking advertisements litter the pages.

The section on the art of the perfume bottle was fairly eye-opening, as in: There's really nothing new under the sun. For example, I had no idea that the bottles for Karl Lagerfeld's new Kapsule collection are a direct and near complete rip-off of the art-deco Baccarat bottles designed for Paris perfume house Ybry in the 1920's. The Ybry bottles can be seen in the upper right corner of the above photo.

Bad Karl. Bad bad bad.

And what book would be complete without a shameless plug by the author for his own products? Fortunately, the Roja Dove fragrances are pretty darn great -- lush, exuberant productions that carry on the tradition of fragrance as an exotic accessory rather than just something to splash on in the morning to keep you smelling soapy fresh and squeaky clean all day; unfortunately, the Roja Dove fragrances are only available from the Roja Dove boutique.

I called and tried to get them to ship some to me here in the U.S., but no go. I guess they only want me as a customer if I can fly in on my own private jet . . . that might be a few years down the road. For now, though, I have his book. It smells like paper.

UPDATE -- MAYBE HE SHOULD JUST STICK TO SELLING PERFUME:

Avery Gilbert, author of 'What the Nose Knows', catches our dear Mr. Dove flubbing at neuroanatomy: D'oh! 'Professeur de Parfums' Flunks Neuroanatomy

"The last time I checked, the limbic system is not in the cerebellum, the cerebellum is not the "emotional part" of the brain, nor is it "responsible for processing scent." Luckily for the Professeur's customers, fragrance consultation isn't brain surgery."

Every once in a while, I get on a photog roll. This weeks seems to be one of those whiles, so enjoy it while it lasts (see? we all get our whiles!). Lovely photos, not so much of me blathering on and on.

Anyway, Serge Lutens Un Bois Sepia. I remember liking it better a month ago than what I'm experiencing now that I own a bottle. Doesn't that just figure.

I really like how it opens, and really really like how it finishes, but I really really really have issues with what's in between. I blame the cypress trees. But I'm determined to wrap my brain around this one, kind of like the way I figured out how to enjoy the bitterness of coffee when I was 18, and the tannins in serious red wine when I was . . . uhm, a little older than 18? Yeah, that's it.

But give yourself enough exposure to anything in the proper setting and psychological adjustments can be made. Not that I'm promoting exposure in general at this point -- just exposure to Un Bois Sepia.

Oh h*ll, we know it's all about the photos, anyway. See below:

Kooky, no? The photos only look like they've been extremely manipulated and photoshopped to death, but very little was actually done to them post shooting besides a little cropping and some minor color tweaks.

I've been experimenting with my new Canon G10, and it's a terrific little camera. For being just one step up from a simple pocket point and shoot, it's rather breathtaking in what it can accomplish. And it loves perfume bottles -- all that light and all those gorgeous curves and angles . . .

The exotic backdrop/setting is a sculptural lamp we've had for a few years -- I believe it's made from twisted corn husks, and it's lit up from within, which is where that wild glow comes from.

Unfortunately, not all the photos are available to view in larger sizes. I was working with low light to get the glow effect, and while I like the results, I did run into some evil digital distortion in a few cases.

Byredo is a Swedish fragrance line that just launched earlier this year. They have five fragrances total, and I'm sampling two of them today: Chembur and Rose Noir.

I originally intended to review them individually, the way I do with most fragrances, but there just isn't enough 'oomph' to them for me to bother. I tried, really -- I started off and was all, like, "Chembur is said to be inspired by the childhood memories of the neighborhood outside of Mumbai, India where the perfumer's grandmother lived. I can't personally vouch for how accurately Chembur reflects the character of this neighborhood, but it is a spicy, mildly sweet perfume with a bit of an exotic twang to it" and blah blah blah snnnnzzzzzz.

To be honest, I've smelled this exact fragrance about a thousand times before, a little dusty spicy with a sweet amber finish, and there's nothing about it that's unique enough, special enough or yowza! enough to deserve it's very own entry.

Same with Rose Noir. Perfectly nice green-rose fragrance with a pleasant white-musk base, yet mostly indistinguishable from the flood of other fragrances already on the market.

Mind you, it's not like purchasing either of these Byredo perfumes would be a bad idea. They're both wearable and well-crafted and might get you a compliment here and there, but I can't see recommending them over, say, a Frederic Malle, Le Labo, Serge Lutens, Parfumerie Generale, Annick Goutal, Chanel Les Exclusifs, Profumum, Parfums del Rae, Nasomatto, L'Artisan Parfumeur, the list goes on . . . however, I would recommend them over Montale, Etro (except Etro Messe de Minuit, I love that stuff), Givenchy, Diptyque, Gucci, Versace, Bond No. 9 and a Bulgari or two.

If someone throws a bottle of Byredo at you, then by all means, catch it and save it and maybe wear the stuff a few times . . . but don't expend any extra time and effort to go searching them out.

I tested a sample of Ms. Harris' Frankincense Myrrh Rose Maroc oil a month ago and never fully shook its grip (I swear, the thing is like the Jaws of Life, but to the nose . . . you know?), so I finally broke down and ordered a bottle, though I'm not so sure I bought it for the juice as much as the opportunity to photograph the darn thing:

I walked up to the BF and said, "This is the stuff that I was taking photographs of today!" and I put my arm in front of his nose. He sniffed and said, "Oh, okay, yeah, it kind of smells like a department store at Christmas time."

I have no idea what that means.

Note: don't forget to click on the photos and go to my Flickr account, where you can view larger photo sizes to see greater detail.

NARCISO RODRIGUEZ FOR HIM: I like Rodriguez's designs. Louise has several of his dresses, and they fit exactly the way you'd expect a sleek, streamlined American high-fashion piece to fit -- i.e. perfectly. Not a stitch out of place, not a body-hugging angle miscalculated. So it was with some trepidation that I approached Narciso Rodriguez For Him.

It's not that I expected it to be awful, but that I was more concerned it might not be particularly good, which would diminish my respect for Mr. Rodriguez's otherwise terrific work in the design industry. But I shouldn't have worried -- For Him is as streamlined and tailored as one of the man's runway shows.

It is, however, extremely American, which means you're not going to find any French fussiness, British stateliness or Italian voluptuousity (that doesn't even sound like it should be a real word, does it?); instead, it's direct, clean and without guile or mystery, hitting its stride right from the bright violet leaf opening and maintaining an athletic pace throughout. This can be either good or bad, depending on your personal style or given mood.

Comprised of the previously mentioned violet leaf, plus a light bodied patchouli, a near sugar-free amber and a synthetic musk that cops just enough to its animal origins to still call itself a musk and get away with it, For Him was originally intended as an extension of the Narciso Rodriguez menswear line, but that project has been axed due to market conditions and/or lack of positive response. Fortunately, the fragrance still remains available.

A good choice for the locker-room king in your life who's looking for something simple, with no florals and no-fuss, but of a higher caliber than, say, Grey Flannel and Polo. I'm not knocking Grey Flannel and Polo, I'm just saying that Narciso Rodriguez For Him is arguably much better. At the very least, it's a 21st century contemporary (as opposed to the oh so 20th of Grey Flannel and Polo), and it boasts a mellow, musky finish -- but that's American musk we're talking about, pal, so don't get your hopes up for any of that down and dirty stuff. That's not how we play around these parts.

A video clip below of the Narciso Rodriguez Spring 2009 collection:

Narciso Rodriguez For Him was put together by perfumer Francis Kurkdjian under the direction of Rodriguez. Kurkdjian also created Narciso Rodriguez For Her, the Indult series, Jean Paul Gaultier Le Male, Christian Dior Eau Noire, several Parfums MDCI numbers and a host of other fragrances.

SINFONIA DI NOTE COEUR DE NOISETTE: Coeur de Noisette is just about the polar opposite of Narciso Rodriguez For Him. It starts off rich and potent and moves into a thick, resinous sweetness over time, trumpeting its old world charm and signaling its intention to stay put by the fire with a nice glass of brandy while the whippersnappers sweat it out on the squash court.

Like any self-respecting citizen of the empire, Couer de Noisette incorporates exotic elements into its repertoire: toasted island coconut, dusty arabian spices, new world fruits and florals plus a jigger of jungle woods; yet it's still "of the people," exhibiting an attractive gourmand flair that's easy to like.

The first Sinfonia di Note fragrance I tested was Saveur d'Artichaut, a green artichoke floral with a distressingly murky aquatic base. Coeur de Noisette may be less adventurous in its intention, but it's more successful with its execution. Could be easily worn by both men and women, though it has a delicious, vanilla and tropics aura I think I'd prefer to smell swirling about the female of the species -- and it's, like, serious vanilla through the drydown.

1.) I woke up this morning to four separate emails from the Ormonde Jayne people. I know that times are getting a little tough, but it struck me a tad bit desperate, as in "We know we just sent you a newsletter, but now we want to send you a PR photo for our new men's release, oh, and let's not forget another email about our boutique in general, oh! and how about an email that simply tells you how great we are. What do you think of that?"

Not much, actually.

And what the h*ll am I supposed to do with a huge PR photo of their latest men's release? Post it with the caption: "TA DA!" . . . ? Whatever. This blog is about fragrances that I actually have in my hand, not about the flotilla of PR material that doesn't come accompanied by a sample (or two).

Update: After posting this entry, I immediately received an email from the Ormonde Jayne people apologizing for the mistake, assuring me that the Ormonde Jayne line is not in any way "desperate" (clumsy with the email list, perhaps, but sales are fine), and offering to send me a sample of the Zizan for review. My faith has been restored, Linda Pilkington still rules the heavens and all is well with my world. Thank god, too, because if Ormonde Jayne hit the skids, who was I going to pray to every night before I fell asleep in my jammies? I wonder, though, if I just ruined my chances of ever getting Ms. Pilkington to create a bespoke fragrance for me . . . note to self: the pen may be mighty, but the Internet is permanent!

2.) And speaking of news from a fragrance house, a member on BaseNotes mentioned that he called around to a bunch of companies asking for samples of their products, and when he got a hold of the Matthew Williamson people, he was told that the Matthew Williamson fragrance line has been discontinued.

I mean, I'm not totally surprised because I know of actually zero human beings who thought to even go through the effort of buying a bottle of the stuff, but can I just say it anyway? Okay -- "Here we go again."

Warm Sand was probably one of the nicer light, summery, sandalwood and spice fragrances I've ever encountered, and they're discontinuing it. What's up with the Matthew Williamson people, anyway? They did the same thing with their original Incense fragrance -- released it, then yanked it from the market not long after. The new MW releases have only been in production since 2007, I believe, and they never even made it into U.S. distribution. Now they're gone.

So any Matthew Williamson fragrance fans out there -- grab 'em while they're still available, cuz they aint gettin' replaced.

3.) In the News I Didn't Know department, I read that L'Oreal has acquired the worldwide distribution and marketing rights for YSL Beaute products, including all YSL fragrances: "The deal gives L'OrÈal the exclusive worldwide licence for the Yves Saint Laurent and Boucheron brands in perfumes and cosmetics. It also provides L'OrÈal with the licences for fragrances and cosmetics of the Stella McCartney, Oscar de la Renta and Ermenegildo Zegna brands."

It was only just in the last five to ten years that luxury brands were buying back all their franchises and rights, and now they're selling them again. Times really are tough.

A clip of one of the more intriguing YSL ads I've seen:

4.) Even high-end fashion houses resorting to discounts: "Analysts predict that luxury-goods revenue will drop in 2009 for the first time in over a decade at constant exchange rates. Consultants at Bain say global luxury sales could drop as much as 7 percent in next year, while analysts at Bernstein are projecting a decline of 5 percent."

I was surfing the net yesterday and discovered that the Alexander McQueen website is offering shoes, handbags and some items of clothing at 60% off -- for example, a $2400.00 handbag can now be yours for around $900.00! The Oscar de la Renta website is holding g a 50% off sale, and Sergio Rossi has discounted a good number of its shoes by 50% to 60%.

Sergio Rossi is even closing all of its United States boutiques by the end of this year.

My question is: What are these brands going to do when the excess merchandise is sold off? Go back to charging huge prices for their goods? Once a customer sees a brand willing to sell its product at 60% off the listed price, it makes an impression. I know I'll never be able to look at an Alexander McQueen bag the same way again.

Journalist Kim Crow makes a similar observation: "Just how high were those profit margins before the economy went south? . . . Even with sales of 60 percent to 70 percent off, there are still profits to be made. Otherwise, many of (the retailers) would simply take (the items) off the floor and sell the lot to the T.J. Maxxes of the world. So just how much have we been overpaying for the past 10 years?"

A clip of the Alexander McQueen Spring 2009 show below -- I wonder how long it will take before the price slashing starts:

5.) A spokesman for Saks Fifth Avenue was on CNBC the other day and claimed that the severity of the present recessionary trends took everybody in retail by surprise, that they all over bought for the fall lines and are now stuck with huge amounts of merchandise that isn't selling. Saks is even allowing customers to purchase at "No payments and no interest for 12 months" promotional rates -- well, if they agree to purchase more than $2000.00 worth of goods at any one time: "Saks Chairman and CEO Stephen I. Sadove told investors lastweek that the company's shoppers are in frozen mode . . . 'Clearly, our customer doesn't feel wealthy. They are not in the mood to shop,' he said."

The retail scene is looking pretty bleak in Japan, as well: "Retailers have little to cheer about when it comes to the Japanese market: department stores are on track to post their 12th consecutive year of declining sales in 2008 and the outlook for next year is just as grim. Last week, Louis Vuitton and Dior cut their retail prices by 7 and 8 percent, respectively, joining a growing list of brands engaging in early markdowns here, including Prada, St. John, Tiffany & Co., Cartier and Montblanc. With spending slumping, Salvatore Ferragamo and Bally unveiled price reductions on fall-winter merchandise as early as the summer."

6.) Click here for a Radio New Zealand interview with perfumer Christopher Brosius of CB I Hate Perfume.

It's a spicy, smoky kind of day, so I chose four fragrances that might sate your greed for a new fall/winter scent that Santa can stuff in your stocking . . . or something like that.

MOLTON BROWN BLACK PEPPER: Why do pepper fragrances usually smell like bell peppers? The fine print can read black pepper, white pepper, purple pepper, pepper pepper -- I still get a vegetal bell pepper. I think the only pepper frag I've yet encountered that hasn't whiffed of green produce is Le Labo Poivre 23, but that may be because I'm partial to Le Labo and will forgive them almost any transgression (except for Neroli 36).

Oh, sure, Molton Brown Black Pepper eventually turns into the smell of black pepper the way that dinosaur bones eventually turn into petroleum, but who in the 21st century has the patience to wait around that long?

The good news is, if you're the sort who's always shouting in the background for extra green peppers while some patient saint of a friend attempts to place a telephone order for a pizza delivery, Molton Brown Black Pepper is tailor made for vous!

***Note: you might also experience a little oakmoss, a chocolate-ish patchouli and ginger, but don't quote me on that.

10 CORSO COMO: Surprisingly winey and somewhat floral at the beginning, though the florals vaporize after the first ten minutes and I'm left smelling like the waiter just spilled a cruet of balsamic vinegar in my lap.

There isn't any fruitiness listed in the official scent notes, so perhaps it's a very strong balsamic synthetic that's leading me down this crushed and fermented berry-soaked path. It's also leading me down the stuffed-up and sniffly path, too -- just an FYI for the more allergy prone. I had to take a Zyrtec just to get through this review.

The scent mellows as the hours pass and 10 Corso Como starts to resemble more and more a woods and dried berry concoction -- it's okay, but not really ringing my bell, either (where's Anita Ward when you need her?).

It even has a smidgeon of that wooden chest of drawers smell at times -- you know, the kind where grandmother types stored all their wool sweaters and blankets between winter seasons? No mothballs, but definitely a dusty, musty, wooden drawer scent, plus a waft of potpourri. Egads, no wonder I'm not grooving on this stuff! It's like Andy Tauer's Lonestar Memories!

But just to prove that I'm not a total curmudgeon, I'm going to quote from very favorable reviews of 10 Corso Como, because it does have its fans:

From Now Smell This: "It is beautifully done, and has a velvety-soft, squishy comfort scent kind of feeling that makes it more wearable than many woodsy incense fragrances . . . I must add that there is something very sexy about it too, and despite its muted nature, it has good lasting power."

From the always excitable Bois de Jasmin: "10 Corso Como is sensual and voluptuous like the carved dancers of Indian temples . . . (it) swirls like incense smoke over red rose petals . . . Perfectly balanced between the resinous woody elements, the dark rosy sweetness and the ethereal smokiness, 10 Corso Como is a sandalwood scent that fills my romantic vision of Indian palaces."

From Bitter Grace Notes: "I'm in the camp that finds this one sacred and spiritual, though it's more kindly Mother Superior than Zen master."

And Beauty Habit selected 10 Corso Como as one of the ten best fragrances for Fall 2008:

So who cares if I think it smells like a bottle of red wine vinegar spilled across a slab of old wood that's been soaked in turpentine? Not to mention that it's still making me sneeze . . .

COSTES: Costes is the bottled version of the atmospheric scent that was created for the Hotel Costes chain (yes, the trendy, celebrity friendly, hip and happening Parisian Hotel Costes chain). The funny thing is, it honestly does smell like some boutique hotel room freshener and not something that ever should have been formulated to spray on the skin.

Costes initially exhibits a very strong, piney character that consumers ordinarily associate with "clean" and "fresh" -- a kind of furniture polish (lemon oil and cedar) and bathroom cleanser (pine) mix with a synthetic rose tossed in for good measure.

In its defense, the rose does gain a bit of gumption and rises up to dominate the main body of the scent, resulting in a fragrance that gets prettier the longer you wear it -- but the whole time I was wearing it I couldn't help but wonder where I put my suitcase, or why room service was so late with that dratted martini I could have sworn I ordered three hours ago.

A few other, and better (imho), woodsy rose options that won't leave you smelling like a trendy lobby space in the process: Parfums del Rae Bois de Paradis; Le Labo Rose 31; Andy Tauer Incense Rose; Sonoma Scent Studio Vintage Rose.

PROFUMUM OLIBANUM: The Profumum line can be a bit of a hit and miss affair. I really liked their rich, deep Ambra Aurea and Fiore d'Ambra, didn't mind their potent Patchouly, was mildly unimpressed with the licorice gumdrop of Confetto, and definitely iffy on the musky Thundra and the boggy, peat-moss of Fumidus.

And now here comes Olibanum (olibanum is another name for frankincense), whistling down the primrose path and pretending for all the world like it's going to be some smoky incense scent that'll put the love of god in my soul -- but no can do.

The listed notes for Olibanum are: incense, myrrh, orange blossom and sandalwood. Now, I have my doubts about myrrh in a fragrance, and while Regina Harris utilized the dark resin expertly in her Frankincense Myrrh Rose Maroc oil, I'm likely to be more put off than turned on when it comes to myrrh -- so Profumum's Olibanum had its work cut out for it, and it failed in that regard.

The final drydown phase to Olibanum is pretty enough, subtle and soft and almost like a faintly sweetened scent of warm skin (the sandalwood utilized is exceptionally smooth), but the several hours of sour myrrh stink I had to endure to get there doesn't exactly put me in the mood to shell out almost $250.00 for the privilege of a full bottle experience.

If they could only figure out how to get the thing to smell as nicely from the start as it does at the finish, then it might be a fragrance worth springing for.

***Note: you'll see in the comments section that a question was raised about the original image selection for the post, and that both myself and the commenter agreed that it was likely somewhat of a brain f**k for visitors arriving at the site to do some light reading. I took a snapshot of the pre-edited webpage, and you can weigh in with your opinion.

INDULT MANAKARA: Manakara is pure candy, distinguishing itself by emitting one of the sweetest, smoothest dessert scents I've ever encountered. I'm not so certain that it's worth its very high price tag, but if you, or someone you know, loves the smell of crème brûlée, you can't miss with Manakara.

Starts candy sweet and finishes warm gourmand tasty, yet with not a huge amount in the way of development or progression (though a lovely woodsy-rose pops up in the base about 4 hours in, followed by a fruity lychee). I thought I might dislike Manakara because of its extremely high sugar content, but instead I feel like I'm next in line at an all-day Willy Wonka buffet.

Will stop small children, toy poodles and hungry lumberjacks dead in their tracks. If you're an elementary school teacher, doggy groomer or Las Vegas stripper (I know! What a strange trinity that makes), Manakara will be just about the most perfect scent you could possibly douse yourself with.

***Note: This stuff lasts for frickin' ever! 7 hours later and I'm about ready to chop my fruity sweet smelling hand off. I wish there were a way to test perfumes properly without having to actually spray them on my skin . . . oh wait! Isn't that called a Personal Assistant? I could swear I have one of those laying around somewhere . . .

***Note 2: After 10 hours, I finally scrubbed this power-driving sh*t off. F***ing hell -- there's scent longevity and then there's just outright harassment.

MAISON BERDOUES AMBRE OLIBAN: Starts off smelling like an old can of Aqua Net from the '70s, then settles into a deeper, ambered groove as time passes (it took about 45 minutes on my skin for the hairspray quality to dissipate).

Once it hits its stride, Ambre Oliban is a surprising, medium-bodied amber with a pleasant incense kick delivered by the olibanum in its mix, but the chief distinction of Ambre Oliban has to be its price point: a 100ml (3.3 ounce) bottle of Ambre Oliban sells on Amazon for $32.00, a veritable steal when you compare it to Indult Manakara, which sells on Lucky Scent for $250.00 for a bottle half that size.

My general experience has been that fragrances in the price range of the Maison Berdoues line are not very good -- too full of cheap and thin synthetics to pack any kind of genuine pleasure into the bottle, but Ambre Oliban is an exception to this rule and I recommend it to anyone looking for an easily wearable incense-amber that won't empty your bank account. It has a long lifespan on the skin, too.

Just keep in mind that it does exhibit that initial hairspray note, but you can outlast it if you're the patient type.

BIEHL PARFUMKUNSTWERKE MB03: You know, I keep reading the descriptions of perfumer Mark Buxton's MB03 as "incense" and yet, I don't really get incense out of MB03. A little bit, maybe -- but defining MB03 as an "incense fragrance" seems somewhat a stretch, especially when the green, vegetal notes start cropping up and muddling the scenery.

Supposedly contains: Roman chamomile, red pepper, elemi, cistus (labdanum), cashmere wood, styrax (benzoin), amber, incense, sandalwood and patchouli. I do smell the chamomile and red pepper, plus a dose of that sour-piss elemi scent (think Serge Lutens Miel de Bois -- *shudder*), but the richer base notes are mostly missing in action.

And it just gets more pissy and vegetal as time goes on. Over six seven eight nine hours later and there isn't a speck of incense, sandalwood, patchouli or amber in this thing. I feel like I've been had (not to mention glommed onto like some olfactory version of a lamprey eel that would rather rasp through my skin than let go . . . longevity isn't always a desirable quality; see: Indult Manakara). I tested Buxton's MB02 a couple of months back, and had the same problem: sounds great on paper, but performs as a rather skinny, hollow-eyed mess in real life.

Biehl Parfumkunstwerke's PC02 from perfumer Patricia Choux is a huge oriental blast of sweet honey and potent florals, so the weak execution with MB03 is the fault of Mark Buxton and not Biehl Parfumkunstwerke. And I hear Mark Buxton has now come out with a fragrance line all his own. Color me unenthused.

FARMACIA SS ANNUNZIATA dal 1561 AURORA: A blend of gourmet spices sprinkled over a base of patchouli, Aurora is as odd as the rest of the Farmacia Annunziata line that I've tested so far. Unlike with their Ambra Nera and Patchouly Indonesiano, however, I didn't enjoy my ride as much on the Farmacia Aurora train.

It's a fine line in perfumery between incorporating spices into the mix and accidentally knocking the entire spice cabinet into the perfume vat and hoping no one notices the mistake. Aurora is the latter, and it reeks of a list of items that should flavor a sauce or pump up a muffin mix -- especially while the potent patchouli in the base is in its opening green-leaf stage.

Once the patchouli mellows out, however (and that takes about an hour and a half to two hours), the fragrance takes a turn for the better and all those spices start working with the composition as a whole instead of against it. The drydown is then woodsy soft and enjoyable, with a bit of warm cinnamon and nutmeg layered across the top, but overall -- not my thing.

Wrap it up: Maison Berdoues Ambre Oliban -- pleasant amber-incense, with a price that's twice as nice; Indult Manakara -- diabetic coma inducing, but you'll die with a smile on your face; Farmacia SS Annunziata Aurora -- fair to middling, with too much kitchen spice cabinet in the mix; Biehl Parfumkunstwerke MB03 -- you're kidding, right?

OFF TOPIC (and later in the evening):

Went out for a walk in the Dallas Victory Park neighborhood and this is what I saw:

Sign of the times.

TEO CABANEL ALAHINE: Alahine, created by Teo Cabanel house perfumer Jean-Fracois Latty and released in 2007, is a rich, amber-oriental done in a very classic style, blended and balanced so that it wears like a veil with no one note standing out above the others -- until it hits the homestretch, then it's a layer of sweet vanilla frosting to the finish.

It's a pretty enough fragrance, but when you read the stated ingredients list, you have to wonder if the perfumer fed the formulae for nearly every classic oriental fragrance from the past 100 years into a computer and out belched the average sum: ylang ylang, bergamot, jasmine, Bulgarian rose, neroli, pepper, iris, cistus, patchouli, benzoin, vanilla, sandalwood, musk, snnnnzzzzzzzzz.

On the one hand, Alahine reminds me a little of the uber-sultry Roja Dove Enslaved, but on the other hand, the reminder is only in the way that, say, Robby the Robot stomping about the house in pumps and pearls approximates a flesh and blood woman.

Enslaved is a far more accomplished and sophisticated player in the retro-sumptuous fragrance of yore game . . . by magnitudes. Alahine, however, can actually be purchased in the United States and is a fraction of the price of Enslaved. Pivot and jab.

So, my advice is, close your eyes and repeat to yourself that Alahine's best asset is that it's an acceptable enough substitute for the stunning but near impossible to get your hands on (unless you're within shopping distance of the Roja Dove boutique in London) Roja Dove Enslaved, hit the "submit order" button and all will be well with the world.

MONTALE OUD CUIR D'ARABIE: I'm having the same problem with Oud Cuir d'Arabie that I have with the Montale oud fragrances in general -- a little too harsh, a little too chemical vapor induction.

I understand that a certain bright harshness to the intro is the nature of the oud essence, but it seems particularly prevalent in the Montale line, and while chemical fumigation is a note that a good number of Montale fanboys/girls appear to enjoy, I'm stating for the record that it isn't my favorite cup of tea.

The "tobacco, leather and burnt wood dry notes" that allegedly lurk behind the curtain of oud never quite gain the opportunity to breathe, and searching for them within the foghorn swirl is close to an exercise in futility. While the underlying wood and leather notes eventually start to surface about four hours in, by then I've written the stuff off and moved on. Obviously, Oud Cuir d'Arabie has a long skin life, but that's cold comfort when half that lifespan is a tough slog through chemical warfare.

I never thought I'd hear myself saying this, but if you're looking for an easily wearable oud fragrance, Tom Ford's Oud Wood might be a good place to start.

***Note: both Alahine and Oud Cuir d'Arabie have very healthy hang times, but Alahine was a way more pleasant experience than the Montale as those hours ticked by.

OFF TOPIC:

More Christmas photos!

I PROFUMI DI FIRENZE AMBRE GRISEA: God love the Italians -- they've given the world cheese-stuffed ravioli, Sophia Lauren, Prada shoes and now i Profumi di Firenze, a non-synthetic (is that just a new way of saying all natural?) line of fragrances out of Firenze, Italy.

I've brushed up against their oh-so-serious Cuolo di Russia and Muschio Nero in previous postings, and Ambra Grisea faithfully adheres to the general blueprint I've come to expect from an i Profumi di Firenze fragrance. Linear, bittersweet and the epitome of animalic, Ambra Grisea takes ambergris and features it in a way that showcases its fleshy, dirt strewn qualities. I've enjoyed ambergris in Profumum's Ambra Aurea and Fiore d'Ambra, but this is the first time I feel like I've really experienced it in a way that's true to its "whale phlegm that's been coughed up onto the surface of the ocean and baked in the sun" nature.

That may not sound like a recommendation, but it is. For real.

If you're the the type that complains regularly of Ambers being too sweet, then the dry, musky and oddly attractive Ambra Grisea should be right up your alley.

ORMONDE JAYNE ORRIS NOIR: Linda Pilkington is fast becoming one of my favorite perfumers. Even if I'm not personally wild about a fragrance of hers (Ta'if), there's no denying that it's creative and well executed, but when she hits my personal nail square on the head (Seraphim), I'm a mess of gibbering adjectives on the floor.

Orris Noir is described on the Ormonde Jayne site as featuring the black iris of Amman, going on to say that "it is a rich, purple black flower of smouldering beauty" -- and while oris fragrances are comprised of the essence of the iris roots rather than the purple black crowns, Orris Noir is indeed rich and smouldering and it's easy to see why this particular fragrance caused a stir among perfume devotees when it was first released.

A host of essences and notes team up with the iris root to result in a husky voiced bombshell on the skin: davana, pink pepper, cardamom, coriander seed, bergamot, sambac absolute, pimento berries, bay, cinnamon, incense, myrrh, patchouli, Chinese cedar, saffron and civet. Needless to say, if you're not a fan of bold, musk-flavored, spice and resin perfumes, then it would be best to pass this one by.

While Orris Noir doesn't flip my gibber switch, it's still an impressive piece of work and should at least be sampled by anyone curious as to what all the fuss is about regarding the house of Ormonde Jayne.

PARFUMERIE GENERALE UN CRIME EXOTIQUE: Maybe it's the downturning economy, gloomy winter weather and general pessimism lately in the 24 hour news cycle, but to me, Un Crime Exotique sits on my skin and screams "Get your ideas half-baked!" while actually thinking I might be sucker enough to pay for the privilege.

Do I like the smell of warm gingerbread topped with a generous dollop of vanilla whipped cream? Yeah, sure, why not? It's delicious, but that doesn't mean I feel a great, burning desire to sloth around the house (or, worse, schlep around the neighborhood) stinkin' like a slice of fresh gingerbread on two legs with a humungous scoop of invisible whipped cream dumped over my head. I'll admit, the juice has a very nice woodsy-vanilla drydown, but so does half the known perfume universe, so no real points are scored in that regard.

I could understand Un Crime Exotique if it were a limited edition experience, a special holiday season party scent trotted out every month of December so festive consumers can engage in cooing sessions over its yummy gingerbread soul and frothy, vanilla-sugar aura, but when considered as a permanent addition to a high-priced French fragrance line, it seems a bit of a joke.

TRANCE ESSENCE GENIE IN A BOTTLE: Genie in a Bottle is described as "seductive, potent . . . exotic" when it's actually a fairly tame number that smells alternately like fresh green leaves and candy. I think it's the jasmine and vanilla fighting for the position of top dog (chocolate and frankincense duke it out in the background).

Allegedly inspired by "a sultry Moroccan nightclub in the summer," Genie in a Bottle is part of a line of all-natural fragrances created by perfumer Janna Sheehan, with each fragrance said to contain up to twenty-five essential and perfume oil elements.

Arhianrad at Winterstorming blog describes Genie in a Bottle as "vanilla bubblegum on top of incense, like an early Christina Aguilera rolling around in a headshop" and that's probably about all the description you'll ever need. It isn't an outright terrible fragrance, but it's not all that great, either.

Genie in a Bottle is also available as a scented candle, and I think that's probably a more appropriate function for it.

OFF TOPIC (but oh so seasonal!):

The iTV is playing Christmas tunes and we finally got the tree up and running, and by "running" I mean the decorations are on and the color wheels are in full force.

I have a total soft spot for aluminum trees with color wheels -- it's not just retro, it's nostalgiac.

I also like how an aluminum tree requires very little in the way of decoration, since it's Mr. Shine and Sparkle all on its own. It appeals to the lazy minimalist trapped inside me.

click for day version

I believe it was Yohji Yamamoto who said that minimalism was "just another word for sloth" . . .

When I first saw the Tom Ford Private Blend coffret for sale online, I immediately thought to myself, "Wow -- that is sheer holiday marketing genius!"

Tom Ford's Private Blend line of fragrances is not exactly on the Common Household Brand awareness list, and the price tag for a bottle of one of his perfumes can be daunting for someone who doesn't really know what they smell like or even have that much of an idea of who Tom Ford is. Now, problem solved.

The Private Blend fragrances are offered here in a single, long, gold foil stamped coffret (i.e. box set) containing twelve individual 2ml rollerball applicators. The box itself isn't anything special -- brown cardboard with gold stamped name and description, and the vials are simple glass vials with inexpensive labels slapped onto their sides sitting in a fake-velvet trimmed interior, but it's the inclusion of the entire line in small sample sizes, and just in time for the holidays, that makes this such a brilliant product concept.

A 1.7oz (50ml) bottle of a Tom Ford Private Blend perfume runs (at this moment in time) $180.00, while his larger sized 8.3oz (245ml) heavy glass bottle runs $450.00 -- not chump change, and certainly not an amount that most consumers are willing to throw down for a fragrance gift they know nothing about, which makes the twelve fragrance box set somewhat of a steal in comparison, and with the bonus pleasure of being able to experience the entire line without having to deal with a bunch of potentially messy, generic spray vials without caps or a box to store them in.

Yeah, it would have been great if, as one commenter suggested on a perfume blog, the coffret had been a genuine wooden cigar box with top quality glass spray vials nestled in thick plush velvet, but then it would have cost about ten times more and no one but a Tom Ford fanatic, who probably already owns full bottles of over half the collection anyway, would have purchased it -- and that, my friends,would defeat the entire purpose of this box set: a relatively inexpensive gateway to the world of Ford's Private Blends. Get 'em hooked and comin' back for more!

I also like the rollerball vials, though they're not a favorite with a lot of perfume purists -- but they're easy to transport, won't leak and are simple to apply in situations where whipping out a spray vial might get you booted right out of the room (or off the bus, or banished from the office break room, etc.).

A couple of photos of the cardboard coffret below -- fa la la:

Seriously, even if you don't think much of the inexpensive presentation, you have to give the man credit for knowing how to promote his brand. The plethora of lesser known niche fragrance companies should be taking notes.

Dealing with the samples from Ajne yesterday was such a profound experience in tedium that I reached into my sample box today with the deliberate intent of finding something to shake things up a little. Lo and behold, I struck gold with Le Labo, the modern outfit based out of Paris (and New York) that can always be counted on to produce fragrances of interest, if not downright beauty.

The vial I clutched in my hand was a sample of their London boutique exclusive, Poivre 23 (poivre is French for "pepper"), and all I have to say in response is Hallelujah! Even though the name says pepper, the nose detects a vanilla fragrance crafted as a type of Red Cross Relief Effort for those who are aware of the difference between a vanilla bean pod and a vanilla cupcake -- and while I know that might sound awful and condescending, the truth is only awful and condescending when it singles you out from the crowd and starts kicking you in the shins (a grinning emoticon would go perfectly right here).

Poivre 23 begins life with a unique exhale like dried habanero pepper dust, then matures into a smokey, spicy take on vanilla, as if the perfumers in the lab blended a number of resinish, woodsy ingredients that exhibit vanillic tendencies (i.e. labdanum, benzoin, tonka, etc.) and said, "Voila! C'est vanille!" And since imitation vanilla is manufactured from clove oil (eugenol) or as a breakdown product of lignin from conifer trees, I have to wonder if that faint, spruce-goose and spice choir singing in the background is a vague nod to the origins of contemporary vanillin production.

The actual scent notes to Poivre 23 list bourbon pepper as an ingredient. In gourmand terms, Bourbon Pepper is "a mix of cracked black and green peppercorns laced with bourbon", but I get a floraled fire-pepper vibe out of it . . . of course, Bourbon Pepper most likely refers to the famous pink peppercorns (poivre rose -- a berry from the cashew family rather than a spice from the piperacea vine) from the Island of Reunion which was once ruled by the Bourbon Kings of France, and is still a French outlay; coincidentally, the Reunion Island is near the Island of Madagascar (another French outlay) which is known for its vanilla, which leads me to believe that Poivre 23 was crafted from spices and materials found solely in France and/or French territories.

Makes a lot of sense for a fragrance created by a small, contemporary French company proud of their country's perfumery heritage.

Poivre 23 was conceived by Nathalie Lorson, who also created Lalique Encre Noir, another fragrance I'm a total fanboy over.

I'd trade the Dallas exclusive Aldehyde 44 in a heartbeat for the opportunity to walk into my local Barney's and purchase Poivre 23. While Aldehyde 44 is undeniably lovely, it's so sparkling and irrepressible that it makes me feel like I'm being waterboarded by Strawberry Shortcake. I'll take the spicy vanilla, please!

Full scent note list: cistus, patchouli, bourbon pepper, sandalwood, gaiac wood, incense, vanilla, styrax. Now I just have to figure out how to get my hands on a bottle of this brew . . .

***Note: Did I mention that I hate it when over-priced, exclusive perfume boutiques won't just take an internet order and ship the dratted product to my doorstep . . . this is the 21st century, right?

***Note 2: Review has been revised twice -- first to reflect the correct exclusive city of offer, and second to reflect updated perfumer info posted on the Le Labo website. Despite how much info I originally got wrong, the fragrance itself is pretty darn great.

FYI:

I started out today with the intention of reviewing Comme des Garcons Bijou alongside the Poivre 23, but Bijou turned out to be one of those awful vegetable aisle fragrances that I can't stand, so there's no point in my going into any further detail about it.

My friend Jessica sent me an article about perfumes that she tore out of a fashion magazine (I know! How old school is that?), and in the article there was a mention of the perfume house Ajne -- an all-natural fragrance and skin care company based out of Carmel, California (with an additional location in Maui, Hawaii). I'd never heard of Ajne, so of course I zipped right on over to their website and ordered some samples of their work: three each of their self-described masculine and feminine scents.

I'm testing the three masculines today, and I'll probably get to the three feminine scents in, like, the next six months -- though they do sound perfectly nice and I know I need to throw in some more sampling of the overt feminines just to keep from going overboard on ambers, patchoulis and the occasional floral leather: "Throw him a lifeline -- he's drowning in patchouli!"

The sample packages are well presented, and I greatly appreciated that they included a small spray vial for each sample, since it allows for a more complete diffusion instead of just dumping the liquid on the skin and hoping that it opens up properly.

Here's a photo of the sample presentation below:

ADLER: Adler is their "woody" masculine. There's a bunch of new-age folderol in the PR material about chakras and allegedly powerful aphrodisiacs, and they oddly blather on about how they're using "plant mimics" of ambergris, musk, civit and castoreum "reproduced with natures very own plant pheromones" -- I mean, don't waste my time with nonsense. Just tell me what the plants are that were actually used and be done with it. In this case, ambrette seed, labdanum and oakmoss, a twist on the chypre formula.

There's an easy-going character to the fragrance that's balanced out by the bitter oakmoss in the base, eventually giving way to a smooth, woods-like (though not really woodsy) quality that's lightly sweetened and a little green around the edges. I kept waiting for some real wood notes to make an appearance, but I only got the semblance of wood rather than anything I could seriously chop down and throw on a fire.

On a side note: me + an axe = disaster. I won't horrify you all with the story of how I nearly beheaded my sister the first time I attempted to cut down a Christmas tree. Suffice it to say that I vividly recall the look of abject terror on her face as the axe swung as if in slow motion within a centimeter of her very (and thankfully still) pretty nose.

HUSTEN/HOUSTON: Labeled a masculine floral, Husten (the label on the vial said Houston while the info card read Husten) is a pipe-tobacco fragrance laced with bright citrus oils. The citrus fades like all good natural citrus is wont to do, and what we have left is a mellow pipe-tobacco scent that reminds me of Social Creatures Rebel Ambush, including how quickly it vanishes from view.

I like Rebel Ambush better for its dusty, spicy nature, but Husten is casual and easy to wear, nonetheless. The lack of synthetics and fixatives is distinctly noticeable when you compare Husten to, say, Tom Ford Tobacco Vanille, with Husten's light, all-natural composition at a disadvantage when compared to the depth and longevity that's an attractive quality of Ford's work.

All in all, a pleasant pipe-tobacco fragrance, but if you're really on the bandwagon for a synthetic-free tobacco, I'd recommend both Social Creatures Rebel Ambush and Dominique Dubrana's Tabac, instead. They're not as sweet as Husten, but I consider that a feature, not a bug.

LAGO: The one I thought had the most "oomph" of the three, though I'm not particularly wild about what I'm experiencing from the line as a whole (but I try to give the all-naturals a chance; really, I do!).

Anyway, back to Lago. Rich and strangely bittersweet, Lago has designs on the classic chypre trio of oakmoss, bergamot and labdanum. Kind of syrupy and mossy at the same time, though it eventually errs on the side of syrup, thus depriving the nose of anything more interesting than a kind of burned sugar that's been spilled on a pile of dirt effect.

Now that I think about it some more, it has an almost molasses-like quality to it. Dark, earthy and sweet, but a foody kind of sweet that works against, rather than with, the earthy darkness. Lago also got sweeter and sweeter as it sat on the skin, until it tilted a bit off-balance. It's one of the few instances where I liked how a fragrance started more than how it finished up.

All three of the above fragrances have similar qualities, each opening with a strong citrus essence, then mellowing into either a sweet plant amber (Adler, Lago) or the sweet pipe-tobacco of Husten. The longevity is decent (Lago especially), but not as good as a juice that incorporates synthetic fixatives into its base.

I wanted to like them more than I did, but the three I tested today rely too heavily on sugars for their charm. I have to say that out of the natural perfumers I've tried, Ayala Moriel offers a much more varied, creative and complex line-up, and without all the added syrups and new-age crown chakra bull***t mucking up the works.

Ayala Moriel and Dominique Dubrana are probably two of the best natural perfumers working today (well, Mandy Aftel is pretty darn great, too). Moriel's Épice Sauvage and Film Noir are especially fine pieces of work.

But if you're casting about for a new synthetic-free fragrance line to try, Ajne is at least making a genuine effort at producing an appealing, wearable product, even if they fall short of producing work that can stand up to the perfumers mentioned above. Maybe their feminine fragrances are better . . . ?

After the unexpectedly crazy cool seduction of Ormonde Jayne Seraphim yesterday, I figured it might be a good time to catch my breath by focusing on some scents and accords from Christopher Brosius' CB I Hate Perfume line.

Brosius is a near note-perfect embodiment of what I would consider a contemporary American perfumer -- if he didn't already exist, then I would have had to invent him just to illustrate the point. He's a bit of an iconoclast ("fragrance takes itself far too seriously too much of the time"), kinda cranky ("The aldehydes in Chanel No. 5 make me puke") and unflinchingly direct ("I rarely smell new perfumes these days - there are just too many of them and too few that I find at all interesting"), character traits reflected in his vast fragrance line that consists of single scents, accords and a smattering of more complex perfumes.

When I first encountered the CB I Hate Perfume line, I didn't get it. It seemed the antithesis to what I understood perfume to be (and to be about), but as I've spent time slogging through more and more uninspiring and often derivative excuses for perfumery, I've come to appreciate Brosius' work for its deceptive simplicity.

I mean, have you ever been in a crowded elevator that slowly filled with the scent of a leafy, green forest while the other passengers look around themselves, kind of dazed and wondering if they're just imagining things? It's an experience to remember. So I've included some brief reviews of several of the CB items below, most of which are worth exploring.

GREENBRIAR 1968: Starts life as a poisonous mossy brew, but all's well that end's well and Greenbriar ends very well indeed with an earthy forest and sweet tobacco blend that replicates the memory-scent of your pipe smoking granddad and the old leather boots he used to leave in the front entrance after tromping around through the backwoods on a crisp, clear morning.

BURNING LEAVES: I grew up in a rural town in Michigan back when people still burned leaves in the fall. There were a lot of maple trees in Michigan, and this is pretty much an exact recreation of the smell from my childhood as I would walk home in the chill October evenings against a backdrop of bonfire smoke throughout the city. Brosius' Burning Leaves is not what I would consider a traditional perfume, but it's a beautiful charred scent that I love to wear.

SWEET SMOKE: A lighter, blonder rendition of Burning Leaves. More akin to woodsmoke mixed with incense. Good for layering with other fragrances that could stand a little smoky "oomph" in their base.

MUSK REINVENTION: In a 2005 interview, Brosius claimed that he loathed "the majority of synthetic musks" but that he had a number of accords he used in place of the foul smelling commercial variants: "Old Leather, Cistus, certain Ambers, White Truffle and Oakmoss can all be combined to give that beautiful deep rich sexy skin note that "musk" is supposed to evoke." I assume this is what constitutes Musk Reinvention, a dark and bordering on unpleasant scent if you only sniff it from the bottle; apply it to the skin, however, and it melts into the scent of your body, radiating a weirdly attractive odor of earth and animal pelts. Musk Reinvention is also terrific as a layering scent for other perfumes in your collection -- add a drop to your skin and it enriches and deepens whatever you pair it with, including those awful commercial synthetic musks.

IN THE LIBRARY: Never has a stack of books smelled so good. Rich vanilla (or is that vanillan?) that's as comfy as a high-backed leather chair in the library . . . until the butler walks in with a pot of very strong black tea. I don't drink tea -- the main reason being that I can't stand the way tea smells. Pity. I was really enjoying the fragrance up until the tea leaves entered the picture.

CB93: Oddly enough, all the woods and resins combine to create a spicy clove and cinnamon effect on my skin. With a scent note list that consists of Galbanum, Bourbon Geranium, Holy Basil, Siberian Fir, Scotch Pine, Moroccan Cedar, Candlewood, Frankincense and Sandalwood, a dive into the spice cabinet is the last thing I was expecting; unfortunately, that's all I got.

WILD HUNT: Hits its target dead on. Starts off all cool shadows and fresh leafy greens, then tracks the quarry to its warm, musky lair. A surprising cured tobacco quality (or is it spicy amber?) brings up the rear and makes for a precious few hours of love among the drydowns. Wild Hunt is the kind of fragrance that Brosius does best -- will freeze urban dwellers in their tracks as they wonder where in the hell that sweet, loamy, forest smell is coming from.

PATCHOULI EMPIRE: I've mentioned this fragrance before, but it bears revisiting. Five different patchouli essences blended to result in one supra-patchouli hero. Sinus clearing at the start, with smoky woods and black pepper down the homestretch. No sugar added. If you like the patch, you'll beg, borrow and steal for Patchouli Empire. Yes, I'm being hyperbolic, but not by much.

CB I Hate Perfume isn't for everyone -- the packaging is minimalist, the bottles are spare in their design (no swarovski crystals or ground glass stoppers) and Brosius doesn't futz around with the latest greatest trends (fruity florals? syrupy orientals? nuh-uh and no how!), but what he does offer is quality, creativity and transparency about the process and his craft.

Brosius also offers 2ml travel vials of a good portion of his scents and perfumes on his website. You might want to check him out if you haven't already.

***Note: the fragrances reviewed were all absolutes, except for Wild Hunt, which was the water version.

We now return to our regularly scheduled dissection of overblown fragrances. Hey, speaking of which, where did I put that other Roja Dove sample . . . ?

Seraphim is a specially commissioned, limited-edition fragrance created exclusively by Linda Pilkington (of Ormonde Jayne) for the website 20ltd out of London. When it was first released, there was a howl of protest from perfume fanatics who were genuinely bent out of shape that a well-respected perfumer might accept a commission to create a high-priced, limited edition fragrance. From Now Smell This:

1.) "This is pretty disappointing from Ormonde Jayne - Linda's prices are already high (although the fragrances are completely worth it, in my opinion) and this just sounds like more "I'm so special, you're so special" pretentiousness." 2.) "(Pilkington) should sell some stickers too, so you can stick it on your neck together with the price and everybody can read it. This is disapppointing and probably created for the clients who like to point out what an expensive thing it is." 3.) "I do not see how this sort of project highlights the art and artist-status of perfumers. There is no special artistic merit in contrived scarcity/exclusivity. Nor does it warm my heart to think that the execution of a perfume that more people could afford and enjoy would be delayed to amuse 50 ultra-wealthy buyers" . . . and so on.

I can appreciate the desire of a fragrance fanatic to try everything he/she can get his/her hands on, but rather than lob charges of elitism and snobbery over a bottle of perfume, why not accept that just maybe Ms. Pilkington was excited by the opportunity to create a fragrance that, while not bespoke, also wasn't limited by the harsh realities of the mass marketplace. Like it or not, Seraphim is a rock-solid piece of work that might never have seen the light of day if Pilkington had to worry about whether she could sell enough units in her boutique to justify the cost of its production.

In a passage written for The Perfect Scent that Chandler Burr's editor nixed from inclusion in the final published edition, Burr describes his rather visceral reactions to the scents of particular raw perfumery materials, and one of those materials was ylang ylang: "Ylang ylang smells like lighter fluid. A flower of vaporous petroleum that jets into the air like a sheet of flame waiting to ignite."

And wouldn't you know it, but ylang ylang is the wind in Seraphim's wings -- a jet propulsion of fire from heaven that's brightened by bergamot ("a glistening liquid lacquered cool luminescence") and polished with rosewood. There's also the bright, sparkling pitch of violets, iris ("the smell of very dry hay in a wood barn") and roses to add shine to the heart of the juice while infusing all that wide open space with an All Grown-Up Now! confidence.

Once Seraphim rounds the bend, the musks and ambers begin to assert themselves and it turns into one hell of a sophisticate, its tank full of jet fuel now softened, tamed, warmed and lightly sugared. There were moments when I took a deep inhale and got goose-bumps from how effortless Seraphim makes good perfumery seem: "Oh, this stunningly beautiful stuff? Ah, I picked it up online -- no big deal!" as every other perfume in the room begs for scraps from its sillage.

It approaches its drydown on a soft vanilla cloud, wrapped in a musky cashmere blanket and dreaming of hills dusted with coumarin. It's been over seven hours since application and this stuff is still ticking . . . and ticking . . . and ticking. Pure wearable genius.

Photos of the packaging and bottle below:

***Note: additional raw scent note descriptions for bergamot, iris and rose were quoted from the same Basenotes article where Chandler Burr described the jet-fuel quality of ylang ylang.

GUERLAIN SPIRITUEUSE DOUBLE VANILLE: Yes, I know, what was I thinking? But it's always good to push one's boundaries just so you know those boundaries are there for a darn good reason.

I mean, I'm just getting back into the swing of an ordinary day after the gluttony of the holiday weekend, but gluttony is what Spiritueuse Double Vanille is all about and I feel like I'm right back at the dessert menu debating between pie or cake, pie or cake, pie or cake or . . . French Vanilla torte?

If vanilla is your thing, then it's unlikely you'll find much to resist in Double Vanille -- there's a baked, sugary yumminess folded into a mix of almost ridiculously pretty florals (Bulgarian rose and ylang ylang) followed up by some frosted incense smoke with an undertone of cinnamon and cloves.

Indult Tihota is a more pure vanilla scent, while Frapin 1270 and Abinoam Beleza are richer, thicker, "sink your teeth into it" gourmands, but Spiritueuse Double Vanille is comfortable, easy to wear and unlikely to cause even the mildest of ripples in the space/time continuum . . . or even any upcoming holiday parties!

It is a Guerlain, however, so it unwinds on the skin in a classic fashion -- no surprises, no tricks up its sleeve, no third act deux ex machina, just a steady as she goes vanilla floral with a soft, smoke and spice finish.

FYI: the cinnamon and clove more than pull their weight through to the drydown before handing the baton off to Mr. Vanilla.

***Note: as stated in the comments section, as well as on other perfume blogs, a lot of wearers get a distinctly boozy note from Double Vanille in its first 20 to 30 minutes. I didn't experience that myself, but it seems to be a common enough occurrence to make it worth mentioning.

ODORI IRIS: a modern iris floral that reads like a classic blend, only trimmer through the body, tighter at the tummy and vaguely masculine in the way it carries itself.

A green leafy shimmer envelops the fragrance from the beginning, enhancing the already cool iris root quality, rounded out with some mellow floral notes to give the impression of the full iris flower. There's also a suggestion of earth at the base, along with a slice of dry 2x4 sprinkled in sawdust. I think somebody's rolling a cigarette in the background, too, but I can't be certain. Not smoking it, just rolling it.

The result is the illusion of a batch of actual iris flowers in a wooded grove bending in a dry, hot breeze. A dusty vanilla (softer and quieter than what's in the Guerlain) makes an appearance near the end, lightening and brightening the earth and wood notes.

I'm kind of a sucker for the Odori line -- I can't stop babbling about Cuoio whenever a leather fragrance is interjected into the conversation, and their Tobacco scent does the pipe tobacco + vanilla tap-dance as well as Tom Ford's Tobacco Vanille (Tara will disagree!) -- so it's not a surprise that their interpretation of iris is a hit in the world of Nathan. Whether it's a hit in the world of anyone else remains to be seen, but I definitely recommend it as a must-sample if not an outright purchase.

Supposedly, there's a distinctive star anise note to the proceedings, but bugger me if I can smell it.

Wrap it up: if faced with a "Choose One or Die!" scenario, Odori Iris would be in my hot big hands in a hot little second, but I wouldn't begrudge the fool who reached for the Guerlain, instead. I might arch a metrosexual brow, but begrudge? Nevah!