Nathan Branch

Frederic Malle Vetiver Extraordinaire

2008-11-19T20:33:02Z

My sample vial was labeled "Vetiver Extraordinaire Dominique Ropion" -- so at first I didn't realize that I was spraying on a sample of a Frederic Malle fragrance until I remembered that Frederic Malle is the only fragrance line that features the names of the actual perfumers on the label. But when you come right down to it, why don't all the fragrance lines do that? The way that designer labels sell perfumes now is like Sony or Warner Brothers trying to sell a pop album with only their corporate logos emblazoned across the cover: "WARNER BROS RECORDS -- 4 Minutes (to Save the World)" really doesn't offer much insight into what the music might actually sound like, and I wonder if this is why consumers are so confused when it comes to the modern marketplace. Very few fragrance lines employ just one head perfumer, so we have a revolving door of perfumers with their own styles behind a flood of new releases under every major fashion label in the world, and it becomes impossible to know whether we'll actually like the new Dior, Armani, YSL, or Gucci fragrance when the actual talent behind its creation is hidden behind what equates to a corporate curtain. I mean, how much nicer would it be if, as a consumer, the name of the perfumer was featured on every perfume bottle? That would change the way we shop for fragrances entirely. Stores could cross reference the names with what's currently in production from that particular perfumer, and sales representatives would say: "Oh, you like Dior J'Adore? That's one of Calice Becker's pieces, so you might like to take a sniff at Cuir de Lancome, Secret Obsession and Beyond Paradise, too!" At which point they'd start pulling items off of shelves neatly grouped according to perfumer instead of perfume house. My god, that would be so much easier for everyone involved . . . so of course it will never happen. Dominique Ropion, the name behind Vetiver Extraordinaire, is an extraordinarily prolific perfumer, responsible either singly or collaboratively for over 40 fragrances and counting, with numerous mainstream hits to his credit, such as Burberry The Beat, Thierry Mugler Alien, Givenchy Very Irresistible, Calvin Klein Euphoria and Vivienne Westwood Anglomania. He's also the perfumer for two other Frederic Malle releases, Une Fleur de Cassie and Carnal Flowers. Erin over at Now Smell This proclaims two of Ropion's fragrances, Wet and Une Fleur de Cassie, as strikingly original yet nearly unwearable in public due to their feral, bodily fluid qualities. Vetiver Extraordinaire is, thankfully, neither feral nor unwearable, though it does exhibit a dark, loamy earthiness that might be difficult to handle if you're in the mood for a mist of sweet, floral splendor to start your days. Vetiver Extraordinaire is said to contain one of the highest concentrations of vetiver essence on the market (25%), accessorized with musks, woods and moss, so you have to be a bit of a fanboy for the inky, damp smell of vetiver root if V.E. is going to get your groove on. Opening with citrus, ground peppercorns and an ozonic tone that evokes the cool bite of a deeply shadowed forest, once the lighter, spicier tones burn off, the fragrance reverts to form and wears like a slice of genuine earth, sprinkled with wood chips and served up on a bone china plate. While this isn't what I look for when I reach for my own fragrance bottle to kick off the day, it strikes me as an obviously heartfelt rendition of vetiver root on the part of Ropion, and I can admire the quality of the construction even as I'm taking a pass on including it on my shelf. ADDITION: I also tested a sample of Claus Porto Musgo Real Água-de-Colónia No. 2 Oak Moss, but it really didn't merit much more reaction than: "Hmmmm, fresh and . . . mossy."

Serge Lutens Un Bois Sepia and Sinfonia di Note Saveur D'Artichaut

2008-11-18T20:04:00Z

UN BOIS SEPIA: Begins with a cubist-like expression of candied citrus rinds, all angles and planes, made more so by that familiar sinus-clearing element I get at the opening of most every Lutens I've sprayed on my skin. With Un Bois Sepia, the culprit at the root of this sharpened intro is an exceptionally dry cedar wood, an ingredient I'm usually disinclined to gush over, yet while cedar isn't my favorite scent note to find featured in a fragrance, not all cedars are created equal; Un Bois Sepia distinguishes itself with a kinder, gentler version -- a cedar that cues the horns for the fanfare entrance, then wisely dials it back for the duration of its visit. In other words, it knows the difference between its outdoor voice and its indoor voice. A commenter on Base Notes states that "I consider Un Bois Sepia to be dried red fruits in a wooden dish", and this is a fair enough summation of how Un Bois Sepia presents itself, with the concentrated sugar of dried fruits wrapped in a cedar wood bow. I've read some commentary discussing how Un Bois Sepia is overly sugary and sweet, but I didn't find this to be true; in fact, my experience was that the candied citrus sheds the spotlight about two hours in and the fragrance was pretty much a softly glowing cedar wood scent for the rest of its duration. If you're a fan of Andy Tauer's L'Air du Desert Marocain, then you'll likely find Un Bois Sepia appealing, as well. While L'Air du Desert Marocain is a much drier, raw cedar fragrance, the layer of fruit in Un Bois Sepia adds a not unwelcome coat of polish to the olfactory furniture. Then again, I'm not the biggest of cedar boosters. SAVEUR D'ARTICHAUT: Saveur D'Artichaut bills itself as an artichoke fragrance, yet it rides out of the bottle on a plume of citrus notes that are even sweeter and stronger than the intro to Un Bois Sepia. Citrus and cedar? Okay, I can see a certain logic to it, but citrus and artichoke? I feel like I'm being played. Like Un Bois Sepia, Saveur D'Artichaut takes a few hours to shake off the more heady aspects to its bergamot nemesis, but once it does, it's an attractively salty, herbacious scent, leaning toward the vegetal side of life without totally falling overboard into the wide celery sea (and yes, there's a faint aqueous tint around the edges -- I have no idea where it comes from or why it's there). A vaguely floral sweetness creeps into view and becomes more and more persistent as the fragrance hits the drydown phase, which is a little disconcerting -- first the citrus opening, now the lightly sweetened homestretch. It seems that the pleasantly salty and warm scent of the artichoke plant at the heart of the perfume is transformed into a riff on the lighter aroma of the artichoke blossom. Pity. I would have liked a lot more of the former, as this left turn into blossom land only manages to turn what seemed like an unusual concept into yet another vegetal floral perfume, and it's not as if we aren't already up to our hip-boots in all that. So unless you're the owner of a perfume collection with an aching, artichoke-blossom shaped hole at the center of it, the mishmash that's Saveur D'Artichaut is at times creative and interesting, but it doesn't stand out enough from the pack of niche scents to warrant more than cursory attention. UPDATE: After posting this entry, I decided to do an experiment -- I suited up and went to go work out without having first scrubbed off the two fragrances I was testing. I've found that the heat of exercise jumpstarts a fragrance, even if it's the next morning and it was the fragrance I'd applied yesterday. Sure enough, halfway through my routine, Un Bois Sepia was all revved up and glowing on my skin while Saveur D'Artichaut intensified into an unpleasantly dank and brackish scent; whatever that aqueous note is that Sinfonia added to it -- it's a real deal killer for me.

Bruno Acampora Iranzol and Seplasia

2008-11-17T23:13:00Z

I picked up the Bruno Acampora sampler pack from Lucky Scent, and while it's not nearly so nicely packaged as the Ineke sample box, the pack does include a small booklet listing the scents, accompanied by brief descriptions. The booklet is really more about pictures and poetic prose than helpful information, but what redeems the lack of info in the booklet is a carboard sleeve that encases each sample vial, listing the actual, honest to god ingredients rather than some whimsical collection of made-up scent notes. For example, the list of ingredients for IRANZOL is listed as: alpha-isomethyl ionone, cinnamyl alcohol, citral, citronellol, coumarin, eugenol, geraniol, hexyl cinnamal, hydroxycitronellal, isoeugenol and linalool. I have no idea what most of these ingredients actually are, but now that I'm armed with the information, I can search the net for my own answers, which is what most of us really want -- I mean, if I were to pick up a package of food from a grocery store shelf and the ingredients list consisted of bulls**t like spirit of life and sea breeze accord, I'd be less informed than when I started, not to mention completely annoyed. So I absolutely applaud this move toward transparency, and hope to see more of it in the future. IRANZOL: Bruno Acampora perfumes are produced in a concentrated oil format, resulting in a very soft, yet long-lasting fragrance experience. Every scent to the pieces smells rounded, smoothed out, buffed down, without a sharp edge for miles. Described in the PR prose as a full-bodied, resin fragrance, "soft, damp green grass and fresh buds in flower in stark contrast to seasoned sandalwood," it's important to note that Iranzol doesn't contain any actual sandalwood or natural floral essences, but is, instead, a nicely blended chemistry project that comes out smelling woodsy and sweetly floral with a damp hay aroma floating through its center. While many of the smell molecules contained in Iranzol are derived from plants and flowers, they are not actual plant or flower essences, which makes this softly floral, damp woods perfume a rather remarkable product of the modern laboratory. Up against a truly natural fragrance, such as a perfume from Ayala Moriel, Mandy Aftel or Dominique Dubrana, it's easy to tell that Iranzol is nowhere near to smelling like real roses, genuine jasmine or smooth sandalwood, though it does reference such essences with a decent amount of humility. And it just gets prettier as the day passes . . . SEPLASIA: Described as "a sensual embrace from an island called desire," there actually is a faint scent of a salty Mediterranean breeze lurking in the background of Seplasia, a hint of seawater and seashells without going unpleasantly aquatic about it. Actual ingredients listed are: alpha-isomethyl ionone, benzyl salicylate, cinnamyl alcohol, citronellol, coumarin, eugenol, geraniol, hexyl cinnamal, hydroxycitronellal, hydroxyisohexyl 3-cyclohexene carboxaldehyde, isoeugenol and linalool. As you can see, the ingredient list of Seplasia, though arranged a bit differently, is quite similar to Iranzol, but with the addition of hydroxyisohexyl 3-cyclohexene carboxaldehyde (a soft, floral aldehydic utilized as a blending agent to achieve richness and tenacity) and benzyl salicylate (a balsamic floral molecule that often serves as a foundation for heavier floral elements in the mix). This results in Seplasia as a richer, warmer perfume in contrast to Iranzol's straight-forwardly pretty nature, though both are merely variations on the artificial floral theme. If you're into light, sweet florals with a bit of damp grass and smooth sandalwood rolled underneath, then Iranzol is your bag of tricks, but if you prefer a warmer, thicker type of floral with a bit of sand and ocean breeze, Seplasia is for you. So if you have your heart set on a Bruno Acampora fragrance, I'll stand on the sidelines and cheer for the decidedly more woods and rose drydown of Iranzol -- in my opinion, it's lovelier and more satisfying than the somewhat olive-oil drydown of Seplasia. UPDATE: I was contacted by Laurie Erickson, the perfumer for Sonoma Scent Studio, who informed me that the lists of ingredients that I saw for the Bruno Acampora perfumes were only partial lists. Here's a quote from her email: "the ingredients lists you see are usually just partial lists that include the potential allergens required to be disclosed by EU regulations. The list usually also includes the word "fragrance" or "parfum" and that is the all-inclusive term for everything not considered allergenic and thus part of the trade secret for the scent. The US doesn't yet require that allergens be listed so you'll just see the ingredients list as something like water, SD-39C alcohol, and 'fragrance.' ... See if you can find the word "fragrance" or "parfum" in the list and that's your clue that there's lots more unlisted stuff." And indeed, the word "parfum" preceded the list of allergens that I had mistaken for the entire list of ingredients, so some of the statements regarding ingredient lists in the reviews will be incorrect, but you still get the general gist. Suffice it to say that there is undoubtedly a lot more to the ingredient lists than I had assumed, and there may very well be natural essences included, they just aren't listed (and this might just be where the missing sandalwood is hiding). Gosh darn it! And I was all happy with Bruno Acampora for what I had assumed was a refreshing transparency. I should have known better . . .

Fashion Industry News Roundup: 11/16/08

2008-11-17T01:31:57Z

Barbie Turns 50 -- Designers Cash In: "Teaming up with fashion designers Jeremy Scott and Vera Wang, as well as The Council of Fashion Designers of America (headed by Diane Von Furstenberg), Barbie is to be transformed into a bona fide fashion brand complete with cosmetics collection and runway show . . . A full list of designers has not been revealed yet, but headed by the CFDA they will create life sized outfits that reflect the world of Barbie, for a spectacular catwalk show at February's new York fashion week." Uh . . . I had no idea the world was clamoring for a Mattel Barbie Doll fashion and cosmetics line, but I can't say I'm surprised. I'm sure it won't be long before a Barbie fragrance hits the shelves, too. Mmmm, the smell of pink plastic! Video clip below of Barbie in all her commercial glory: Luxury Brands Cut Prices in the Face of Global Recession: "For the first time in recent memory, luxury-goods makers are cutting prices on designer apparel, shoes and handbags in the U.S. market ... luxury companies from Chanel to Versace, Christian Louboutin and Chloé are reversing the industry's maxim that luxury prices only move up. The cuts range from 8% to 10% on most products sold in the U.S. . . . 'Never before have we done this,' says Ralph Toledano, chief executive of Chloé ... 'This is an unusual time. You have to be creative at this moment.'" There was just a report last month that Chanel was going to up the prices on their classic handbags by 20%. The United States and Western Europe are 80% of the luxury brands' market, so with sales deteriorating in the U.S., the bottom line must be looking fairly grim at the moment. In similar news, retailers are also talking about an increase in returns of merchandise: "The percentage of sales that are returned are expected to rise in 2008 to 8.7 percent, or $219.1 billion, from 7.3 percent a year earlier, said the National Retail Federation, which polled 82 retailers for its return fraud survey." Get Your Hands Off My Comme Des Garcons H&M: "After the frenzied debut last weekend in Tokyo of its Comme des Garçons guest designer collection, H&M on Thursday gave the rest of the world a chance to see what all the fuss was about. Large crowds queued up for the launch in Paris, London, Milan, Hong Kong, Shanghai and Manhattan. Shoppers stampeded into stores . . . The Comme des Garçons collection bowed on Thursday in 200 stores worldwide, including eight overall in the U.S. and three units alone in Manhattan . . . An H&M spokeswoman estimated that about 200 consumers were lined up outside the Fifth Avenue flagship at 9 a.m., when the doors flung open. Some had been waiting since 11:30 p.m. Wednesday. " Store reps noted that the crowd, while excited, was much better behaved than the rowdy mob turnout for the Roberto Cavalli collaboration. Video clip of the collection: Making a Buck Off the Back of Obama: "When he launches a new men's fragrance next month, Sean "Diddy" Combs, the hip hop impresario turned marketing mogul, hopes his sales pitch will resonate with the same consumers who voted for Barack Obama. Mr. Combs said the campaign for the $57 fragrance called "I am King," which is licensed by his Sean John fashion label to Estee Lauder Cos., will telegraph black success. 'When you see Barack Obama, you see a strong, elegant black man and when people see my ad, it's almost like that's the trend,' he said in an interview." So this is what the results of the last two bruising years of an election campaign translate into -- a marketing opportunity for P. Diddy's new cologne? You stay classy, Mr. Combs. Limited Edition Dior Fragrances Arrive at Saks: "To celebrate its 60th anniversary, the House of Christian Dior released La Collection Particuliere last year, a trio of limited-edition perfumes . . . The three fragrances--Passage No. 4, a rose scent; Passage No. 8, with hints of violet and iris; and Passage No. 9, which is billed as a "dazzling tuberose"--were launched exclusively at the Dior Couture ready-to-wear boutique, and have remained somewhat elusive, until now. Starting (November 13th), the line will be available at Saks Fifth Avenue in New York." Unfortunately, they don't seem to be available (yet?) for online purchase from the Saks website. And just in case you haven't yet seen the video clip of Luca Turin's talk at TED regarding the science behind the sense of smell:

Guerlain Bois d'Arménie and Basma Jasmin

2008-11-15T22:15:16Z

GUERLAIN BOIS D'ARMENIE: When I first sprayed Bois d'Arménie on my skin and took a deep inhale, I thought: "Oh my god. This is, like, smoky, forested genius!" I just wish it stayed that way. Created in 2006 by Annick Ménardo, the perfumer behind Dior Hypnotic Poison and Lolita Lempicka, Bois d'Arménie is said to mimic the scent of Papier d'Arménie -- paper coated with benzoin and burned as an ancient room and air freshener. While it leaps out of the gate as a bang-up wood and smoke fragrance, the benzoin-vanilla creeps in gradually until the entire fragrance is saturated with a soft, cupcake sweetness. The good news is that Guerlain had the sense not to completely over-do the sugar content, so I can happily type these words that next appear on your screen: "The included vanilla content is restrained enough to allow the "bois" of Bois d'Arménie some space to breathe." The bad news is that it's the 21st century, we're still making fragrances based on the smell of ancient room-fresheners and I had to type those words at all. I give it a silver medal in the fragrance sweepstakes, but I'd of easily flung the gold around its neck if Guerlain hadn't resorted to the obvious market-appeasing vanillafication of the incense genre. Not that I blame them; I mean, they are in the business of selling their fragrances -- no matter how beautiful the bottles look all perfectly lined-up on a store shelf -- and vanilla is a very popular essence. Just ask Shalimar. Mark at Peredepierre writes: "The depth and beauty of it is apparent from the first spray . . . (but) BdA is one of those fragrances whose main fault may be that it is too beautiful; too soft and sweet." I concur. BASMA JASMIN: Basma Jasmin is a big dose of pure jasmine, and seemingly little else. After I applied a few sprays of the Basma Jasmin juice to my wrist, I dragged out my Le Labo Olfactionary and unscrewed the cap on the small vial of jasmine absolute -- yep, just like I thought. A dead ringer. I can understand the desire of a perfumer to go all unfussy and back to basics, like maybe creating the boot-camp equivalent of a soliflore (a fragrance dominated by the scent of one particular flower), but I'm not so certain that Basma Jasmin is my type of boot-camp soliflore. When jasmine essence is mixed and matched, or combined and enfolded, into a broader formula, it can be striking if not downright breathtaking; but featured as a solo act, with the volume cranked way up as it is here, it comes across as monotonous and overbearing. It's a quality jasmine, to be sure, but it lacks a good Greek Chorus to soften the blow or comment on its more charming characteristics. That said, Basma Jasmin would be a perfect fragrance to use as a base if you're into layering your perfumes on your skin ("Hey, you got your Chanel on my Basma!" or something like that). Spray a lightly floral or sweetly fruity perfume over a layer of this potent jasmine brew and you'll likely experience the joy of jasmine in a whole new way. Note: Just as a test of my own theory, I sprayed a layer of the Guerlain Bois d'Arménie over the Basma Jasmin I was already wearing. Bingo! The two fragrances brought out the best in each other -- the vanilla sweetness of Bois d'Arménie lent a soft femininity to the jasmine soliflore while the spicy Basma punched up the smoky forest tones in the Guerlain. Nice.

Ineke Deluxe Sample Collection

2008-11-14T20:59:48Z

I first read about the Ineke fragrance line on the Smell-O-Vision website, and due to Smell-O's enthusiastic description of their products, I cruised on over to the Ineke website and ordered their sampler box, the Ineke Deluxe Sample Collection. The sample box is decidedly modern and upscale in its presentation, exhibiting a minimalist flair, and it won an Editors' Choice Award from CPC Packaging magazine. The cool, sophisticated look also impressed the editors at Vanity Fair magazine and they ran a puff piece on the Ineke line for their Vanity Mirror section: "Ineke Ruhland's Ineke perfumes are best seen as parts of a whole, like the stanzas of a poem or the chapters of a book. Each fragrance in the five-piece collection has a lyrical name inspired by a different letter of the alphabet, and the scents evoke the stories displayed on the boxes through original photos, artwork, and snippets of verse. Ruhland will add a new fragrance every year until she arrives at the letter Z." I (of course) dove straight for the deepest, richest of the scents -- Evening Edged in Gold. It's a great big leathery floral with life flowing through its veins, probably along the lines of what Hermes Caleche might have been before it was reformulated into the thin, wan ghost of a leather it is today: honied, spicy, huge (though it hits its drydown with a much lighter touch). It's the kind of fragrance my floriental-loving sister would adore, and while it's likely too bold and aggressive for her to wear to work, she'd definitely take a nose-dive into the stuff on her weekends off. Below are photos of the Deluxe Sample Collection -- as always, click on the photos to see larger versions hosted at Flickr: Re: new camera -- I upgraded from a Canon PowerShot SD1100 IS to a Canon Powershot G10. I think the color and clarity of the photos show a significant improvement, not to mention that the digital files require far less tweaking in Photoshop to compensate for distortions. It's amazing what you can get out of a lightweight, compact camera these days.

Quick Sniffs: Hermes Caleche; Ormonde Jayne Tolu; Susanne Lang Tamboti Wood; Farmacia SS. Annunziata dal 1561 Ambra Nera

2008-11-13T23:55:04Z

HERMES CALECHE: Since Hermes has just recently released a concentrated version of their Kelly Caleche (which many consumers and reviewers considered a whispery, mild-mannered disappointment to the leather fragrance genre -- Grain de Musc goes so far as to call it "one of Jean Claude Ellena's many variations on the smell of water"), I thought it might be nice to take a virtual time-travel jaunt and visit the original Caleche, first released in 1961 and spawning numerous flanker fragrances since then: Caleche Soie de Parfum, Caleche Eau Delicate, Kelly Caleche and the previously mentioned Kelly Caleche Parfum. Caleche was one of Hermes' best selling fragrances for several years after its release -- bold and classically structured, it dispenses with any sweet, flowerpot pleasantries and aims its arrow straight for the warm, musky bullseye. There's a small floral bouquet that sneaks in about halfway and chats up the amber in the base, but then both of them exit the party and pile into the back seat of a waiting taxi, leaving us to the one-two cha-cha-cha of skin musk until it fades away altogether. I expected Caleche to exhibit a good to excellent lifespan on my skin, but it turns the volume way down not three hours into it; meanwhile, Tolu and Ambra Nera are still chugging from the keg and scoping the joint for lampshades. Okay, Caleche doesn't disappear entirely, but it turns into a far more muted affair than I really want out of something that calls itself a leather fragrance. So, great, it suffers from the Hermes curse: "Help! I'm so classy, mannered and calm that no one can even tell I exist!" This lack of vitality (or is it a lack of passion?) is a common complaint I have with Hermes fragrances, especially when they're of the Jean Claude Ellena variety, though I don't know what excuse Caleche can offer since it pre-dates by several decades Ellena's arrival as head perfumer for Hermes. Short and pithy version: nice first impression, too bad it wimps out half-way through. The plus side to the equation is that you can wear it in close quarters without asphyxiating anyone, which, now that I think about it, is actually a pretty big plus. UPDATE: A commenter chimes in below with the notion that Caleche is not stated as including musk in its ingredients, but while the jumble of "notes" for Caleche appear to vary wildly from site to site, I found a listing on Amazon that states: "Caleche has a floral heart composed of jasmine, rose, iris, gardenia, ylang-ylang, and bergamot. Lingering notes include: sandalwood, oakmoss, cedarwood, vetiver, amber and musk." There's even a listing for Caleche at Costco (Hermes at Costco -- I love it!) that says: "A refined and classic floral fragrance. Hermes Caleche offers a subtle blend of gardenia, bergamot, and iris with natural undertones of oak, amber, and musk." I guess I'm not the only one with a nose for the musk in Caleche. ORMONDE JAYNE TOLU: Based on the scent of Tolu Balsam (the resin from a tree in Peru), Ormonde Jayne's Tolu opens big and orange-rind sweet, then settles into a much more sophisticated and balanced groove, with wafts of green herbs and a light medicinal touch weaving in and out of the tonka and amber sweetened mix. Robin at Now Smell This gives Tolu a reluctant thumbs-down, claiming "Tolu is the only fragrance from the (Ormonde Jayne) line that I simply can't wear. It starts with a lovely, spicy-aromatic orange blossom, then quickly turns into a heady mixture of sweet resinous notes." Which is true enough, but what Robin doesn't note is that Tolu evolves -- it isn't heady and sweet for its entire lifespan, though, to be fair, it might be heady and sweet for, like, an hour or two longer than she could really bear. I blame the tonka. But the redeeming factor about Tolu is that it gets lighter and brighter as time passes, so if you can hang on through the initial heavy, oriental sweetness, you'll emerge on the other side in a shimmer of almost cool, herbal freshness; still sweet, but no longer huge and overpowering about it. SUSANNE LANG TAMBOTI WOOD: I don't have a lot to say about Tamboti Wood, except that it's probably unfortunate that it finds itself in the company of Caleche, Tolu and Ambra Nera. While on another day I might have admired its simple, direct character, next to these other three powerhouses, it merely comes across as overly linear. This isn't necessarily a fault in and of itself, but Tamboti Wood's lack of development is not scoring any points today. Don't get me wrong -- Tamboti Wood is well-enough a decent, woodsy perfume, and it is terrifically dry (not a dollop of sugar or a bouquet of flowers for miles, with plenty of crisp, crackling logs to throw on the fire), but Tom Ford's Italian Cypress beats the stuffing out of it for sheer, wearable, wood-fragrance pleasure. Le Labo Rose 31 would also be a much more interesting choice, imo, though Tamboti Wood's price point is a hell of a lot more affordable than either of those. Tamboti Wood does score points, however, for lasting on the skin longer and stronger than Hermes Caleche, and its earthy, salty drydown, a combo of grass roots and what I could swear is a dusting of cinnamon (is that the sandalwood?), ranks as a positive on the overall scale. FARMACIA SS. ANNUNZIATA DAL 1561 AMBRA NERA: Just like Farmacia SS Annunziata's Patchouly Indonesiano was a no-holds barred, take no prisoners version of patchouli, so Ambra Nera is a rich, potent brew of an amber, enfolding the bright knife-edge of eucalyptus and the inky green stain of vetiver root into a thick, resinous, vanilla-sugar base. Imagine stumbling across a huge sugar-cookie house at the center of an old growth forest, and that pretty much sums up Ambra Nera: dark, woodsy, grassy and impossibly delicious, with an aroma so bewitching you'll find yourself shoved face-first into some old crone's pizza oven before you can rouse yourself from your amber-induced stupor long enough to object. The amber at the perfume's core does tone itself down little by little as the fragrance develops, making space for drier, more forested elements to stretch out and breathe. The result is a drydown that's not nearly so viscous as its sticky-bun introduction, but there's still the persistent stamp of powdery sweet vanilla to the end . . . and it lasts for a really long time.

Patchouli Wednesday: Farmacia SS. Annunziata dal 1561 Patchouly Indonesiano and Parfumerie Generale Intrigant Patchouli

2008-11-12T22:40:36Z

FARMACIA SS. ANNUNZIATA DAL 1561 PATCHOULY INDONESIANO: Holy Moly, Mama Mia and Mother F***ing Bejeebus! It's clobberin' time! Die-hard patchouli purists are going to feel like they've keeled over and landed in heaven once they get a whiff of Patchouly Indonesiano -- but If you're not a die-hard patchouli purist? Then I'd suggest you stand back, or maybe even clear out, cuz you'll just be a mildly annoying human speed-bump in this thing's way and there's simply no dignity in a fate comprised of scraping yourself off the linoleum. Lucky Scent lists the ingredients of Patchouly Indonesiano as Indonesian patchouli. Period. No sweeteners, no flowers, no spices, no extra nuthin' -- it opens like a camphorlicious stink-bomb and rides that blast all the way to its god given, pure patchouli conclusion of stark, nuclear glory. For serious patchouli fanatics only. Proceed with caution and wear at your own risk. Really. I'm not kidding around here. PARFUMERIE GENERALE INTRIGANT PATCHOULI: After the knock-out blow of Patchouly Indonesiano, Parfumerie Generale's Intrigant Patchouli seems like nothing so much as a sweet, powdery imposter to the patchouli throne -- which isn't necessarily a bad thing, depending upon your point of view. While Patchouly Indonesiano introduces itself with a power-punch to the olfactory-plexus, Intrigant Patchouli initially comes across as a sweet, feminine dear of a thing, inviting you over for tea and serving the crumbliest of vanilla scones, the flakiest of chocolate croissants and the butteriest of toast squares as you sip your piping hot almond tea from the family china that she inherited from her grandmother who just recently passed away (god rest her soul). Intrigant Patchouli does eventually shed some of the sweet layers to allow its patchouli heart to shine through, and in any other context I might remark that it deepens into an attractive woods and musk fragrance laced with traces of chocolate and honey, but honestly? Next to the iron fist of Patchouly Indonesiano, PG Intrigant Patchouli is as soft and elegant as an elbow length velvet glove. Now, if I could just figure out how to put the two of them together into one bottle, they'd make the perfect camphorish woodsy chocolate patchouli perfume. Oh, wait -- someone already beat me to it.

Eau d'Italie Baume du Doge and Tom Ford Italian Cypress

2008-11-11T20:54:55Z

I would love to smell this as a retail fragrance: Space 'smells like steak and metal' "Outer space smells like hot metal, fried steak and the welding of a motorbike, scientists suggest. A chemist is recreating the smell to help Nasa to train its astronauts. Nasa asked Steven Pearce, the managing director of Omega Ingredients, which makes fragrances, to recreate the scent after hearing of his work creating smells for an art exhibition in July . . . Mr Pearce is interviewing astronauts to help him with his task. 'We have already produced the smell of fried steak, but hot metal is proving more difficult,' he said. 'We think it's a high-energy vibration in the molecule.'" Can you imagine? Walking around smelling like outer-space? The idea is highly appealing. But in the absence of new, true, space-age perfumery, I'm reviewing a couple of fragrances that have recently hit the market: Eau d'Italie Baume du Doge and Tom Ford Italian Cypress. While neither are the least bit futuristic, they both represent steps into new frontiers for their respective houses. TOM FORD ITALIAN CYPRESS: This is the kind of Tom Ford fragrance I've been waiting for -- creative, interesting, slightly off the beaten path. While I've appreciated some of the other fragrances in his Private Collection line, I always got the nagging impression that they were test marketed to near death and so gelded of anything that might have truly set them apart from mainstream sensibilities. Not that Italian Cypress breaks new ground, but it does push its woodsy envelope in a direction that's surprisingly left-of-center for Mr. Ford, which might explain why it's first being test marketed as an "exclusive" -- for sale only in the Tom Ford boutique in Milan, Italy at this point, with a potential worldwide launch rumored for later this year (though I fear the fragrance might get slightly tweaked by the time it hits the shores of North America, and that would be a shame). I often get an over-the-top sense from Ford's fragrances -- they're generally uber-potent, high-flying, "Look ma, no hands!" type of fragrances, yet Italian Cypress deliberately bucks this trend, delivering a subtle, woodsy scent that smells like the real deal, dry to the point of being austere, and tinged with smoke and a pleasantly salty musk. And that's pretty much it. Italian Cypress isn't about stages of development or its many changing moods; it's about the sensation of crackling, dry wood from start to finish. There's already talk of Italian Cypress being the most masculine of the Private Blend offerings to date, but I have a hunch there's a horde of female wood-scent fanatics who will tear the internet apart to get their hands on this one. I have yet to purchase a single bottle of Ford's Private Blend series, but I'm impressed with Italian Cypress, and am likely to claim a bottle for my own the moment it hits stateside. EAU D'ITALIE BAUME DU DOGE: Obviously, Eau d'Italie got the memo about rich oriental fragrances being the new in-thing, because Baume du Doge is sweeter than a wagon load of pre-schoolers on a field trip to the lollipop factory. Said to be inspired by the spice trade that flourished in medieval Venice, Italy, Baume du Doge is a thick, resinous brew of various incense essences, sweet orange peels and culinary spices such as clove, cardamom and vanilla. There's a gingery spiciness infusing the powdery sweet vanilla, with frankincense, myrrhe, cloves, fennel and orange essence weaving in and out of the mix. Saffron even applies for a more notable role later in the game. I could easily see Serge Lutens fans going giddy for this new offering from Eau d'Italie, as it serves up all the sweet and spicy goodness of a usual Lutens without any of the tricky intro notes. Personally, I find Baume du Doge oversaturated with its bright vanilla sweetness, but I'm more the dark amber and dry woods type, so take that for what it's worth. If you like sweet vanilla and incense fragrances, then you'll find gallons of love in a bottle of Baume du Doge. Baume du Doge was crafted by perfumer Bertrand Duchaufour, who's pretty much a living legend at this point in the world of perfumery. His past credits include the previous four Eau d'Italie fragrances, plus Comme des Garcons Avignon and Kyoto; L'Artisan Parfumeur Timbuktu and Dzongkha; Amouage Jubilation XXV; Lalique Flora Bella, and more

Caron Infini parfum and By Killian Cruel Intentions

2008-11-10T23:24:53Z

I'm presently reading Celia Lyttelton's The Scent Trail, a book that details the author's commission of a custom perfume from London perfumer Anastasia Brozler (the former head of perfume marketing in Europe for L'Oreál and Estée Lauder), and the subsequent globe-trotting exploration of each of the individual essences that went into that perfume -- what they are, where they came from and how they're harvested, produced or manufactured. Early on in the book, Ms. Lyttelton notes that Caron's Infini perfume (first crafted in 1912 by Ernest Daltroff and then reformulated in 1970 by Gerard Lefort) took fifteen years to originally complete, and I thought to myself, "Wow! Fifteen years? That must be some perfume." My second thought was, "I have a sample of Infini in my sample box, waiting to be tested!" I also wanted to test out something from By Killian, as I've heard much about the line, but have not yet experienced one of their perfumes. So off we go. CARON INFINI PARFUM: Apparently, the parfum and EDT versions of Infini are radically different from each other, so for clarity's sake, I'm reviewing the parfum version. When I first read that Infini was classified as a floral aldehyde, I was all set to don the gas mask and employ the industrial strength solvent to remove all traces from my skin after I took my first whiff, but what I initially experienced is more like the kissing cousin to a classic chypre than any sparkling floral fragrance. The tuberose comes out of the gate with a bang, and welded to the vetiver root in the base, creates a kind of bitter oakmoss effect, but an oakmoss wrapped in soft, powdered flowers and cushioned by a sweet layer of amber. The oakmoss illusion diminishes after an hour or two, clearing space for the powdered florals to turn it up a notch or two and house party across the forest green floor so that the whole concoction tilts toward the more feminine side of the chart. This is where I finally understand the floral aldehyde classification. Yet despite the dance of the sparkling florals, Infini manages to keeps its grip on that green element throughout its mid-phase, even introducing a white musk in its base that offers up a faint bit of soapy freshness, but when the polished sandalwood hijacks the DJ booth, that fresh soap scent returns meekly to its wallflower designation. From there on out, it's mostly an arid sandalwood number: woodsy, unobtrusively musky and not at all sweet or floral -- a homestretch I can live with (and very easily). Pink Manahattan writes that, "Overall, I find it has a pure, crystalline beauty characterized by a clean (somewhat soapy), green opening and a bold, dry woods finish . . . the heart sings its sweet song without going overboard ... adding a natural sensuality to an otherwise austere classical form. Infini comes across as a cool and sophisticated, elegant scent more than a warm and sensual one." From what I've gathered elsewhere on the Net, Infini appears to be very much a Love It or Hate It fragrance, yet dismissing it entirely without first appreciating the very distinct stages of development that took allegedly fifteen years to accomplish would be a disservice to both Infini and the art of perfumery. Worth testing out for its technical wizardry alone. BY KILLIAN CRUEL INTENTIONS: Cruel Intentions is a unisex fragrance built upon a synthetic mimicry of the scent of oudh, the earthy, uber-potent resin harvested from the heart of the Aquilaria tree. Like any typical oudh based fragrance, Cruel Intentions is somewhat sweet in its own woodsy way. It opens with a burst of sharp camphor tempered by a spoonful of cocoa before picking up speed and racing through a barrage of aromatic experiences, as if the perfumer had smoked a bowl of crack and thought what a clever joke it would be to hurtle a string of individual notes past the wearer, like separate cars on a bullet train. Dark roses, powdered ambers, toasted vanilla, inky vetiver root, a spritz of fruit rind, tarry birch, dusty patchouli, soft incense, skin musk . . . these all flash past so quickly that I barely have time to register their existence; yet just when I think I might be getting to the point of the thing, Cruel Intentions abandons its mad juggling act altogether and collapses in a muted heap. It's like a perfume version of The Hare and the Tortoise, with Cruel Intentions zipping and zagging in so many different directions, and so quickly, that it exhausts itself before it can reach a proper conclusion. By Killian's packaging and bottles are extraordinarily beautiful, yet Cruel Intentions doesn't quite measure up to its dramatic presentation or its suggestive name. It's not a bad fragrance; rather, it's a story that's told too quickly, with characters and events not nearly striking enough to make me wish they lasted any longer than the few brief moments in which sprint across my skin. Both fragrances display medium hang-time, and their drydowns cling tightly to the body (with Cruel Intentions more clingy than Infini), but I prefer Infini for the sheer razzle-dazzle of its many-faceted evolution, even though I ordinarily prefer the wood and smoke scents in Cruel Intentions. OFF TOPIC: WWD has a sobering article regarding the effect of the economic slowdown on the European fashion industry: The Price of Luxury: Debt Burden Strains More European Firms "Industry experts believe there's a risk of bankruptcy for some firms as heavy leverage cripples their operations . . . "The majority of luxury groups have solid balance sheets, with cash on their books and limited debt. However, those who have to refinance significant debt...or who do not have sufficient working capital to continue operating, could be in trouble," said a luxury goods analyst for a leading European investment bank, who requested anonymity." The article notes that luxury houses with good cash holdings, such as Hermes, Armani and Dolce and Gabbana, are in a good position to profit from the pain of over-extended peers. Smaller design firms that face bankruptcy may well be snapped up by houses that are cash rich, leaving firms like Giorgio Armani in a position to become the next Gucci Group.

Aftelier Cognac and Shalini Parfum

2008-11-09T00:02:05Z

AFTELIER COGNAC: In a 2005 interview with the San Francisco Chronicle, natural perfumer Mandy Aftel let it slip that the jasmine/licorice combo is a particular favorite of hers for the unexpected ways in which the two essences combine with, contrast against, and support one another. From what I can tell, this combo is at the heart of her hedonistically rich Cognac fragrance. Add some blood orange essence (which she used wonderfully in her dark chocolate Cacao fragrance), a bit of ginger for that sharp spiky scent you get when you bury your nose in a snifter full of Remy Martin Louis XIII, an olive absolute that imbues the fragrance with the toasted aroma of French oak casks, and voila! The full-on Cognac experience is complete -- warm, smoothly biting and brimming with natural sugars. Aftelier Cognac can easily be worn by both men and women, and it has that mellow, relaxing feel of drinking a glass of high-quality, caramelized brew while siting in a huge, overstuffed leather chair by a fire. The most overt of the sugars burn off after an hour or so and you're then left with the skin-musk of an indolic jasmine laced with anise and ginger. A pleasure to wear, and it has a decent lifespan for an all-natural fragrance. SHALINI PARFUM: Shalini (created for designer Shalini Kumar by master perfumer Maurice Roucel) got a bad rap when it was first released, as it was available only in a decidedly striking, yet ridiculously expensive, Lalique crystal bottle that rocketed the price of the perfume into the stratosphere and resulted in far too many reviews ending with the phrase, "not worth the price." Ms. Kumar seems to have learned from this mistake, and now has a much more plain, albeit still crystal, bottle on offer for a fraction of the price of the original Lalique version. Yes, it's still expensive, but you're paying for the juice instead of the bottle this time, and the juice is definitely worth it. First applied to the skin, Shalini's sharp tuberose cuts through the air like a knife, but it's quickly captured and subdued by a white floral and neroli oil mix (neroli is the essence from the blossoms of the bitter orange tree) that softens the tuberose edge, resulting in a delicate, buttery scent that hovers close to the skin. As time passes, the white floral creaminess literally melts into a cashmere-soft tango of musk and sandalwood that I had not at all expected, and found thoroughly enjoyable. If I were asked to recommend just one perfume for a woman to purchase, it would be this one. Frankly, it's so beautiful with its rich, rounded tuberose and warm, golden base, I'm half-tempted to recommend it for men, as well -- the florals are skillfully blended to create a presence that's compelling rather than overpowering, and there's a terrific shadowy quality at the base that counterbalances any overt sparkle at the top. Indulging in more masculine imagery, I'd say the piece as a whole glides down the road like a Bentley, crammed under the hood with power and precision but way past any need to prove it. If your idea of a good time is hanging out in a parking lot and revving your engines all night, then Giorgio has a bottle with your name written all over it. Shalini, however, is all about the grown-ups. In fact, the one thing that might be at all disconcerting about a man wearing Shalini is the crowd of women that would form around him, demanding to know what the h**l it is he's wearing that smells so f***ing fantastic. ***Note: skip the nine hundred dollar Lalique crystal bottle (unless you really have your heart set on it) and go for the 10ml size, instead. Two hundred dollars is still an awful lot to pay for less than half an ounce of perfume, but a little bit of Shalini is all you need. OFF TOPIC: I just finished watching Get Smart (the new one, with Steve Carell . . . god, I love my Apple TV), and it's so dumb, yet I couldn't stop laughing through almost the entire thing. Is that so wrong?

Fashion Industry News Roundup: 11/07/08

2008-11-08T01:09:57Z

Brace yourselves, it's a bumpy economic ride out there. The Luxury Design House Without a Santa Claus: "Marc Jacobs' annual holiday fancy dress parties are legendary on the New York fashion scene . . . His staff and friends were eagerly awaiting his costume this year at what promised to be one of his most extravagant parties yet - a Rock and Roll circus at Manhattan's Rainbow Room, but the lavish party has been cancelled by Jacobs and his business partner Robert Duffy, because of the credit crunch." Wow. Marc Jacobs has thrown a holiday party for the last 18 years, rain or shine, so you know that the economic s**t has got to be hitting the designer fan. For an extra kick of sober, take a look at this article about vacant storefronts on New York's Madison Avenue: Madison Avenue Takes Hit From Economic Troubles. Video clip below from the Marc Jacobs holiday party in '07 (obviously, happier times): Jewelers are also seeing their sales numbers drop: Sales of high-end jewelry lose their luster: "In Manhattan's famed Diamond District, Wall Street bankers have been known to splurge their bonus money on flashy jewels at Ultimate Jewelry Designs. But Gem Sezgin, one of the store's longtime employees, says big-ticket items have lost their allure among New York's high-rollers . . . Even the smaller, independent jewelers are having a hard time ringing up pricey items, especially after the meltdown on Wall Street left thousands without jobs. Between March and August, 19,000 jobs were lost in New York's securities and financial activities sectors, according to the New York Federal Reserve." Even Patrick Thomas, chief executive of the allegedly recession-proof House of Hermès, said that sales growth this year would be lower than expected: "We see a general sales slowdown in all countries. The toughest period will be between now and Christmas." Analysts said that the warning by Hermès was likely to send shockwaves through the luxury goods sector, because if the Hermes customer isn't continuing to spend, then that means no one is spending. Video clip below of the Hermes Spring/Summer 2009 collection: Can you hear the sound of a fashion collection screaming if there's no one there to buy it?

Hermes Brin de Reglisse and Hermessence Ambre Narguile

2008-11-06T23:28:21Z

HERMES BRIN de REGLISSE: I like Hermes as a brand. Like, but not necessarily love. I admire the craftsmanship, the attention to detail, the quality of the materials used. The designs are classic almost to a fault -- when you buy something Hermes, there's little chance that it will ever go out of style . . . but this might also be my biggest issue with the Hermes line. I've read blog readers cheer each other on to buy yet one more Birkin bag, as if ten weren't enough -- "but there's a new one in pink ostrich! yellow crocodile! purple suede!" and so on. Last week, I came across a blog post on BagSnob that spotlighted some poor obsessive-compulsive's collection of 74 Hermes bags -- and you know what? They looked almost exactly the same, all lined up next to each other like little shoulder soldiers. The only noticeable differences were the sizing, textures and colors. I have no issue with the money spent -- it's the woman's money and she's free to spend it on therapy and the appropriate prescription medication for what seems like a serious mental affliction, or, in the absence of both of those, more Birkin bags; but I do take issue with the absolute lack of any creativity involved. I mean, if you're going to exhibit about as much impulse control as a starving wolf at a petting zoo, then a little experimentation wouldn't hurt; after all, there's more to the smörgåsbord of lifestyle indulgence than just fluffy Hermes bunnies on a cracker. Branch out, try something new. It's good for the soul. And this is what I feel like saying to the corporate heads at Hermes when I sniff at most of their fragrances: "Okay, I get it, you're about understated Q-U-A-L-I-T-Y. Now can you bottle me something that doesn't send my nose into a narcoleptic coma?" Brin Reglisse is a lavender fragrance that's . . . nice. There's absolutely nothing wrong with it, and it's just about as perfectly balanced as anything you'd expect from Jean Claude Ellena. Dry. Suitable for any occasion. Subtle. Classy. Transparent. Sheer. Unobtrusive. Zzzzzzzzzzzz. Oh, and it lasts about a nanosecond, too, which I would say is a blessing in disguise as it's likely to bore you near to paralysis anyway. I barely escaped with my life. HERMESSENCE AMBRE NARGUILE: much like the above, only substitute "amber" for "lavender." To be fair, Ambre Narguile does exhibit much more wattage and lasting power than Brin de Reglisse (though that's hardly much of an accomplishment), and it's an amber that restrains itself from tripping the sugar fantastic -- a point in its favor. In fact, Ambre Narguile is actually a very pleasant, woodsy-amber fragrance graced with a bit of incense smoke and mellow spices. It's dry. Subtle. Subdued. Classy. Unobtrusive. Zzzzzzzzzzzz. Note: There's always an exception to the rule, and Un Jardin Apres la Mousson is an exception to the Hermes snooze rule. Doblis would be an exception, too, if they still produced it. OFF-TOPIC (and strictly for entertainment purposes): It's funny how all it takes is a Star Wars parody and suddenly you're a YouTube sensation; of course, it also helps when you can sing like gangbusters: Thank to the BF for alerting me to the clip.

Lorenzo Villoresi Sandalo and Regina Harris Amber Vanilla

2008-11-06T04:39:05Z

LORENZO VILLORESI SANDALO: Italian perfumer Lorenzo Villoresi claims to use "only the finest natural ingredients collected from every part of the globe," with all aspects of perfume production carried out manually. His Sandalo is based on the essence of Mysore Sandalwood, harvested from the Mysore region of Karnataka, Southern India and considered one of the best sandalwood essences on the market. It opens with a burst of rubbing-alcohol (lavender) and citrus, then quickly settles into a heavier, woodsy routine flanked by some medium-bodied florals (allegedly rose and neroli, but they're so well blended that it's difficult to really pinpoint where they sit in the mix) and underscored with loamy grasses. Since Sandalo is predominantly (if not 100%) natural, it wears softly (too softly for my taste) and the overall effect is one of a rounded, deep forest scent, replete with a Bambi or two . . . yet for a fragrance titled Sandalo, I'm surprised at how much more I smell the musk and vetiver than the sandalwood; but not to worry, the whole thing pulls a Houdini-worthy vanishing act in well under three hours, so the sandalwood point is moot, anyway. REGINA HARRIS AMBER VANILLA: Like her Frankincense Myrrhe Rose Maroc Oil, Regina Harris' Amber Vanilla is also a concentrated perfume oil, with a little going a rather long way. Amber Vanilla is, at first glance, exactly what it's name would lead you to believe -- a resinous fragrance slathered in sweetness, but while the vanilla is definitely recognizable and persistent, it's not a spotlight hog. A smattering of spices play along: cinnamon, maybe clove, and I'm throwing in some coriander just because I wasted time digging into the spice drawer and sniffing at the shaker of ground coriander for comparison's sake -- hey, there are worse ways to spend an afternoon! And as long as we're playing guessing games, I think there might even be some teakwood, strewn with patchouli leaves and rose petals. Oh, crazy mad scientist, thy name is Regina Harris. Where was I? Oh, right -- while Amber Vanilla unabashedly tips its hand as it emerges from the bottle in a wave of slightly medicinal iris-root and raw honey, the slow, unassuming evolution on the skin from iris-benzoin-sticky to spicy-woods-and-vanilla-bean-dry is easier said than done, and I'm sure most of us have horror stories we can share of sinking into thick pools of hyper-sugared syrups passing for amber. Thankfully, this isn't the case with Amber Vanilla. Perfume Smellin' Things goes on some Harlequin Romance Novel worthy tear about it being all Pre-Raphaelite sensuous and St. Theresa of Avila divine, but that just means she likes it, y'all! The Non-Blonde notes that it wasn't until the second date that she fell in love. Again, I wish this were a spray parfum or EDP rather than a concentrated oil, but that's a minor quibble in the face of quality. Worth checking out if you're on the lookout for an amber fragrance that keeps its feet dry and its hand out of the cookie jar. The bottle is nice, too. UPDATE: Amber Vanilla has a serious lifespan -- it's the next morning and I can still smell it on my skin, and not just barely, either. It must be the type of vanilla utilized, as the scent is pretty much strictly vanilla at this late stage in the game.

Annick Goutal Ambre Fetiche Photos

2008-11-04T23:06:00Z

I don't spend much time scouring ebay for deals as I'm pretty leery of the scamming and counterfeiting that often tries to pass for legitimate transactions, but for some reason I found myself on ebay last week (I think Ann Demeulemeester is to blame), and I fortuitously stumbled across a listing of items from the Annick Goutal Les Orientalistes series -- and at crazy low prices! I mean, how am I supposed to say no to a 100ml (3.4 ounce) bottle of Ambre Fetiche for only $100.00 when it regularly sells for $175.00? And there were half-price creams and shower gels, to boot! Can anyone say, "Early shopping for Christmas presents?" Right, I thought you could. Well, I had no problem saying it either, so I closed my eyes, mouthed a prayer and pressed the "buy" button. Not three days later, I had a box of brand new, genuine Annick Goutal products at my doorstep, and in perfect condition. Prayers answered, my atheism was free to resume. How convenient. I'm now sitting here in a cloud of Ambre Fetiche as I type this, and dear lord, but I forgot how much I like this deeply smoky, golden juice! I can safely say that I was not a fan of the Goutal line until she introduced the Les Orientalistes series, so I'd say it was a smart move on the company's part as they've most likely managed to rope in a whole new set of eyeballs that ordinarily would have marched right past the Goutal counter on their way to smokier terrain. The tubes of shower gels and scented creams are tucked away for future use as cheerful holiday stocking stuffers. The BF isn't the slightest bit interested, natch, but the sister? Well, I think she'll be one very happy, richly scented camper. And yes, of course, there are photos: