The Oriental fragrance category is one of the primary categories in perfumery, much like red, yellow and blue are the basic building blocks for all other colors. For perfumery, the four basic categories (according to the Michael Edwards fragrance wheel) are: Fresh, Floral, Woody and Oriental.
I asked several of my best perfume pals how they might define the Oriental fragrance category if questioned, and this is how Denyse at Grain de Musc responded: “Oriental perfumes are characterized by the use of balsamic materials (e.g. vanilla, benzoin, tonka), resins (e.g. tolu, peru, myrrh) and, usually, spices. They’re called Orientals because they continue the tradition of ancient, resin and balsam-based perfumery, but probably also because the first orientals, like Shalimar, were linked to Oriental back-stories during one of the many Oriental fashion crazes of the West (Paul Poiret and the Ballets Russes in the 10s, lots of exotic/colonial themes in the 20s).”
There’s also the scholarly tradition of Orientalism which began in the 19th century as Eastern writings were translated in an attempt to understand and hopefully define the respective cultures. Famed critic Edward Said positions Orientalism as a negative, belittling force, but not everyone agrees with that assessment, and in the case of perfumery, the near instant, massive popularity of the Oriental in the late 1800′s as a fragrance category can arguably be the result of an eager embrace of new materials and techniques rather than an attempt to wear the scents of a foreign culture like a warrior might display a physical trophy ripped from the enemy he conquered.
Wikipedia defines Orientalism as “a term used for the imitation or depiction of aspects of Eastern cultures in the West by writers, designers and artists”, and if we’re willing to include perfumery in the art category, then dramatic resin, spice and patchouli laden fragrances are certainly a part of the Orientalist tradition, a radical departure from the green, fresh floral countryside of England and the fields of lavender and roses in France.
It’s this contemporary homage to, and embrace of, Eastern materials that infuses The Different Company’s Oriental Lounge:
Katie Puckrik at Katie Puckrik Smells describes the Oriental as “typically a blend of warm resin (amber, labdanum), animalic (musk, civet) and vanilla notes. Resins (including Biblical faves like frankincense, myrrh and opoponax) hail from the East: near, far and all points in between. Perfumes containing them were therefore designated ‘Oriental’.”
For Oriental Lounge, perfumer Celine Ellena (daughter of Hermes in-house perfumer Jean-Claude Ellena) stated that she deliberately attempted to subvert these assumed rules of the Oriental fragrance category while still remaining true to the spirit of the genre: “I tackled an academic form composed of vanillin, labdanum, patchouli … and all the more or less useful details corresponding to the commonly accepted idea of oriental perfume, and I tried to find a new angle. I tried to make my materials ‘speak’ in a different yet familiar tone.”
Hence, a dusty-herbal curry leaf (from the caloupilé tree) as a dominant tone, introducing a “fetid and spicy” note to the mix that plays counterpoint to the usual suspects of labdanum, tonka, sandalwood and rose (Ms. Ellena purposely avoided the use of vanilla as she felt that tonka and labdanum possessed enough vanillic qualities of their own to suffice).
The use of caloupilé is a successful method of confounding expectations while still playing by the rules. The sweeter tendencies of Oriental Lounge are initially bucked by the dark herbal tone, but the passing of time sees the crushed herbal quality gradually evaporate, eventually placing the fragrance firmly in the woody-vanillic camp, which is how Ms. Ellena keeps the critics from crying foul ball (and keeps the average fragrance customer happy, too — there is such a thing as too much subversion for one’s own good).
While I can certainly spot the difference between Oriental Lounge and Guerlain’s Jicky (an Oriental-genre classic) in an instant, the BF was helping me with a computer issue the other night and remarked that I smelled “like doughnuts” — I was about four to five hours into wearing Oriental Lounge, so the composition obviously doesn’t run itself off the Oriental rails in any kind of TCFS pose.
*Note: Funny thing was, I did smell like doughnuts — warm, cream dipped, vanilla-sweetened fried cakes. I’m not complaining (the scent of doughnuts is a glorious smell!), but the curry leaf bit obviously fades.
Abigail at I Smell Therefore I Am wrote that “Orientals are my favorite fragrance category. Typically the base notes are semi-sweet heavy hitters such as: vanilla, labdanum, benzoin, patchouli, amber, sandalwood, styrax, balsam, Tolu, opopanax, frankincense and myrrh. Most of these notes are woods and spices associated with the middle or far east, hence the generalized name of Oriental. There are several subcategories of orientals in my mind: there’s the floriental with emphasis on spicy florals (Amarige); the woody oriental with emphasis on woods (Bois des Iles); and the spice-incense orientals with emphasis on resins (Opium, Black Cashmere).”
Despite the presence of rose in Oriental Lounge, I’d place OL in Abigail’s spice-incense subcategory with its dominant curry-leaf intro and luscious vanilla-cak
e finish.
The packaging for the piece is detailed and elaborate without being fussy or frilly. While the BF stated that the box reminded him of the packaging for a gourmet tea brand (and he has a point — there’s something very high-end tea about the shape, size and outer sleeve). It’s colorful and inventive, with layers to be unwrapped and stylized text printed on the interior box to look like a poem (it doesn’t read like a poem, but the visual effect is what counts).
A recent study at the University of Rochester concluded that the color red, a predominant color for the outer sleeve of Oriental Lounge, enhance’s men’s physical attraction to women; subconsciously, women are aware of red’s effects on the opposite sex, so beauty products packaged in red can very well cue into those signals: “Under all of the conditions, the women shown framed by or wearing red were rated significantly more attractive and sexually desirable by men than the exact same women shown with other colors. When wearing red, the woman was also more likely to score an invitation to the prom and to be treated to a more expensive outing.”
Logically following, packaging a perfume product in red might very well guarantee that a man will choose it as a gift option over other products on the shelf come crunch time (anniversary, birthday, holiday events). It’s instinctive — men can’t help themselves when it comes to the color red.
The glass bottle is substantial in the hand and catches the light beautifully, while the three tiered cap is weighted, gleaming and embossed with the company’s intitials (DC = Different Company). My only complaint is that the atomizer leaks, and for such a high-end packaging job (much like with the Prada L’Eau Ambrée), that’s really a shame as it serves to undermine all the intelligent packaging decisions that preceeded it.
And since we’re on the topic of Prada’s L’Eau Ambrée, I at first thought that Oriental Lounge might prove to be a type of sheer amber in the same mold as the Prada, but a couple of weeks worth of daily use proved this assumption incorrect. Oriental Lounge wears with a distinct and evident presence (medium bodied — not overly heavy, but not sheer, either), and it lasts nearly all day. Ten to twelve hours after application (and I apply at the most about four to five sprays of Oriental Lounge instead of my sometimes eight to ten for other fragrances), it’s still chugging along.
