Any door that closes leaves me with mixed feelings. If, like me, you are smitten with all things perfume-related, I hope it was a year full of intriguing scent discoveries, as well as a year of personal happiness. Looking forward, for anyone who follows the news, 2025 is likely to be quite an unpredictable  year. But let’s try to stay positive, cross our fingers and focus on what we can enjoy. If I have one resolution for 2025, apart from my usual promises to self to exercise more and adopt a series of healthier habits, it would be to enjoy each moment and live in the present.

All new beginnings start with an assessment of what has happened before.

In terms of perfume buying, 2024 was a pretty slow year for me. I can count on one hand the perfumes I have bought. Believe me, that’s unusual for me. I think it is the year when perfume price hikes finally caught up with me. Nowadays, any commercial perfume sold at Sephora is around the 130 eur mark for 100ml. They seem cheaper at first glance because there has been a multiplication of smaller “travel” formats (10 or 30 ml bottles)  that cost in the range of 30 to 60 eur. So you feel like you are buying a bottle of perfume at a reasonable price but it means that those formats cost, if you look at the price per ml ratio, 300 eur for 100ml. And this for commercial or designer brands like Kayali, YSL, Lancôme, etc.!

So, if this is the situation for designer brands, you can image what happens in the designer’s exclusive lines or niche brands. Exclusivity requires them to increase their prices to mark the difference between them and more “affordable” offerings. For instance, Dior’s “La Collection Privée” changed all of its bottle formats a few days ago and the smallest size is now 50 ml and costs 175 eur, (it was, until last month, 40 ml for 130 eur!), the 100 ml (instead of 125 ml) costs 265 eur and the biggest format is 200 ml (instead of 250 ml) and sets you back 400 eur. Chanel’s “Les Exclusifs” range is similarly priced and will (according to industry sources) also introduce shortly smaller 30 ml travel size bottles. So increased prices and smaller bottles which allows brands to still target  “middle class income” customers.

Another trend that I have seen, also linked to packaging, is the change to refillable bottles. Niche and “all natural” perfume brands such a “Voyages Imaginaires” and “Floratropia” have been offering refills since their inception a few years ago while the trailblazer Thierry Mugler has been for decades offering in-store perfume fountains to refill bottles at Sephora stores. But this was, until recently, still a marginal trend in the perfume world. Things are starting to change though. I was at the exclusive retail store “La Rinascente” in Rome two days ago and Hermes was having a sale of their Exclusive Line Hermenessence. Hermes is NEVER on sale! I asked why and the sales associate told me all their bottles from that line will be replaced by refillable formats. No doubt at a higher price point. So anyway, prices will increase again in 2025 and I may have stick to buying samples!

Let’s look at my perfume purchases in 2024. 

Towards the end of the year, I bought a sample set of the new brand “Bienaimé”, a historic brand that was recently revived and features exquisite packaging. I found their perfumes a bit underwhelming though. (by the way, as per the previous comment about trends, they also offer refill options). I think that for any historic brand, it’s a delicate balance between preserving their heritage and making perfumes people want to buy and wear. Unfortunately, Bienaimé’s entire line has an undercurrent of talcum powder and violet notes that feel, at least to my nose, cheap. The only perfume I liked was their masculine-marketed cologne, Monsieur Bienaimé. So not a brand for me.

In terms of new releases, let’s see first what I tried but did not buy:

I smelled the new Balmain perfume collection called “Les Éternels” inspired by the brand’s historic fragrances. To be fair, I only sampled them in passing but they did not impress me much (the new version of the iconic perfume Vent Vert was a bit disappointing in my humble opinion. Instead of the original bitter green scent it is now a pleasant crunchy fruity experience. Not bad but wholly unremarkable).  I also tried the new Hermes scent, Barenia. It was pleasant and had a distinct chypre feel which I am partial to. But it didn’t really make a strong impression I am afraid. I have to give it a proper try and report back with a more in-depth review. I obviously also tried the new Chanel scent, Comète, but let’s say I was not tempted to part with 230 eur for a small bottle. I tried the new Celine release, Zouzou, which was far too cotton candy-like and sweet for me..

In the Guerlain “l’Art et la Matière” Collection, I sampled the new Patchouli Paris. (What a daft name may I say?). I found it unexpectedly brutal. By the way, I think Patchouli is really having a bit of moment, which I am very happy about. So, well done for not going the obvious route, but it did not seduce me in the least. Again, to be fair, I should give it a proper testing. I did though add a Guerlain from that line to my collection: For my 50th birthday, I received as a present Guerlain’s Bois d’Armenie, a lovely benzoin, incense and iris scent, which has since then been discontinued. It’s beautiful but possibly not incredibly original.

So what did I buy? I guess FOMO (fear of missing out) is really what motivated my purchases in 2024:

At Esxence in March I bought Fath’s Iris de Fath (the eau de parfum version), as I managed to snap it at a reasonable price. It’s beautiful although not so easy to wear but if you are interested in iris scents you need to smell it, if only for its historic significance. A rich, rooty, woody iris wrapped in a cocoon of peach cream. In May I bought the “cheapy” mimosa scent Belle de Grasse by Fragonard. I think if you want a straight forward mimosa you could do far worse.

The brand “Edition de Parfum Frederic Malle” had quite a complicated year in 2024 with its founder leaving and I have to say I have my doubts as to where the brand is going. Anyway, given the sleuth of perfume name changes and reformulations, as well as threats of discontinuations, I insisted on being gifted Une Fleur de Cassie, which is brilliant but hard to wear.. I could not bear the idea of this scent just disappearing. I also got small travel size bottles of Synthetic Jungle and Rose et Cuir to scratch my itch for green/bitter scents.

Finally I bought Diptyque’s Eau Plurielle, a simple but lovely rose water scent which will be discontinued soon.

What perfume discoveries would I like to make in 2025? In terms of visits, I would like to go the Lorenzo Villoresi Perfume Museum in Florence, which includes what they call an Osmorama, a scent library with a large collection of modern and ancient perfume ingredients. I would also like to visit in Venice to explore the connection between the Serenissima and perfume, which, as a bridge between the Orient and the West seems like a fundamental place to explore. Finally, I would like to attend the Paris Perfume Week in March and possibly take the opportunity to visit the Osmothèque in Versailles, a very old dream of mine.

In terms of brands, I have my eyes on individual brands such as House of Puente, Astier de Vilatte’s historic perfumes, and the “recently revived brand “Maison Violet”. I would very much like to explore some of the Chinese perfume brands that you don’t get in Europe, but don’t really know how to get my hands on them.. Will report back when I can.

I might go to the UK in which case I would like to explore local artisanal brands such as Perfumer H and Jorum Studium. Again, will report back if this happens!

So lots to smell and explore in 2025. Can’t wait to hear what your planned scent discoveries are…

Happy 2025!

The post THE BEST PERFUMES OF 2024, TRENDS & WHAT TO TRY IN 2025 appeared first on Pixidis Perfumes.

But what is the “olfactive soundtrack” to all this jazz?  Many familiar scents have come to embody this time of year: cinnamon and ginger biscuits, mulled wine, burning logs on a fire, spiritual incense at Mass, etc. All these scents have their origin in time and have come to form the “sensory fingerprint” of the end of the year. As we have seen last year with the article dedicated to one of the season’s most distinctive spices, cinnamon, the reasons why we associate Yuletide with certain smells generally has a practical explanation.  In any case, we now think of Christmas smells as warm, ambery, woody and spicy, just take a look at the selection of candles that feature these notes around this time of year!

Instead of dissecting them one by one, I thought I would go back to the origins of Christmas. It is after all, if one sets aside all the modern trappings of Christmas, a tale of redemption and love. One that starts with a birth. So really, the main scent should be that of a baby and what it symbolises, love.  For any mother, it is an unforgettable memory,  the first time you cradle your child in your arms and softly smell his head. How to describe it though?

It is both subtle and soft, cozy and sweet, vaguely milky and delicate. The smell of pillowy clouds and heartbreaking love.  Not easy to translate in olfactive form.  I started wondering if there had been any perfumes that had tried to mimic the scent of a baby. As it is often the case,  it depends on one’s perspective. There certainly have been several perfumes as early as the 80s marketed towards new mothers and their babies. I remember, when I had my first baby, my mother-in-law gifting me a bottle of Bulgari’s “Petits et Mamans”, a fluffy powdery musky scent. But there are many other perfumes that are in a similar vein, such as “Le Ptisentbon” from the  brand Tartine et Chocolat or “Bonne Etoile” by Dior.

Generally they feature lots of white musks, some powdery notes reminiscent of iris (methylionone, etc.), some almond-adjacent accords (heliotrope/coumarine, etc.) and some fresh florals such as orange blossom water. At least in the French/European olfactive imagination, these are the notes that often feature in baby creams and baby products, so we instinctively associate them with a baby’s smell.

Interestingly,  I have noticed in recent years a series of perfumes that have not been marketed in that way but feature similar notes and translate, in my view, the sense of softness and comfort of cuddles. These are not your average luxury brands, these are the “creme de la creme” of brands that, in their most exclusive lines, have come out with what I consider to be “fancy baby scent”. Generally built around a powdery almond accord, these perfumes seem to be having a bit of a moment.  Sometimes the notes listed seem a bit fanciful (i. e. cherry blossom, laurel blossom, etc.)  but on the whole, I think their feel is that of baby’s skin to me.

So, if this Christmas what you crave most of all, and what you wish for most of all for the world, is love and a cuddle,  then here are a few suggestions for you.

-Comète, Chanel Les Exclusifs

Released in 2024 and created by Olivier Polge, it is the most recent scent on the  list and, like for most Chanel’s Les Exclusifs perfumes,  I was very very excited to try it. I have to admit it was a bit of let down. Of course, there is nothing wrong with it, but it didn’t move me nor did it manage, I think, to add anything new to the category of almondy/musky scents. The one thing I would praise it for, is for its decisively bitter almond opening. It is discernible, if fleeting, and seems, to my nose, not to be trying to please immediately. It then settles into a light floral powdery musky scent, very cosy, very plush, very cocooning. Lovely really if a bit on the boring side. I just wondered what made Chanel go in that direction. It’s a 180 turn from their last Les Exclusifs’ release, “Le Lion” in 2019. People who fail to love this will no doubt blame it on “the Asian market” saying that it was developed with that demographic  in mind, while “Le Lion” was clearly meant for a more Middle Eastern clientele. I don’t know. It took me awhile to appreciate “Le Lion”, now I love it, so I will circle back to this one and give it a chance.  The very name “Comète” also seems, incidentally, completely in line with my nativity theme.

-Dans Paris, Celine

I mean, it’s really a vanilla scent. But one that manages to seduce even someone as adverse to sweetness as me. I think it’s the aromatic opening (coriander seeds?) that keeps the sweetness in check. In Guerlain’s l’Art et la Matière collection, there is another vanilla scent, “Angelique Noire” (AN), that uses the same trick of adding an aromatic top note (Angelica seeds in that case, that has the added benefit of also acting as a “vegetal musk” and bridging the sweetness of the composition with the musky elements) to balance out the sweetness. But unlike AN, “Dans Paris” (DP) is in my view more restrained in its sweetness, more subtle. More refined. It’s the perfect balance of musky and sweet. So in my unconscious, the perfect evocation of a cuddly baby’s skin. As a side note, Celine doesn’t reveal the name of its perfumer(s). I always find that rather anachronistic. I have no insider knowledge of course but my money is actually on Olivier Polge, Chanel‘s perfumer and the creator of the previous scent discussed here and the following one from Guerlain, “Cuir Beluga”, before he became Chanel‘s exclusive perfumer. You see how there is a thread there.

In any case, coming back to “Dans Paris”, I just know I feel slightly out of character when I wear this, but it comforts and soothes me.

-Cuir Beluga, Guerlain L’Art et la Mature

Created by Olivier Polge in 2005, it is, according to the sales representative at the Guerlain counter here in Rome, their best seller. The name is rather misleading though. Beluga leather? What do they mean by “Cuir Beluga”? Beluga as in caviar? Fishy leather? A truly odd choice in my view, so forget the name.

If you go on the Fragrantica website, most users will say that there are strong similarities between “Dans Paris” and “Cuir Beluga”. They are right. I would say it’s 85% similar. “Cuir Beluga” is not really a leather scent at all, maybe a soft suede but even that is hardly discernible. The suede is just a suggestion, providing a slight backbone to the scent to avoid it being flat. What is very discernible is the powdery almond facet, which constitutes, with the vanilla, the defining character of the composition.

On the whole, I slightly prefer “Cuir Beluga” to “Dans Paris”, because the sweetness is tamed by a more pronounced bitter almond note. But the Guerlain is 325 eur for 100 ml (I mean, completely mad really) while the Celine is a “bargain” at 250 eur for 100 ml. Crazy I know, this is why I only have samples for both.

So there you go. I am not saying you should buy any of these scents, I am just mentioning that they remind me in a way of the cuddly softness of a newborn and that they somehow manage to evoke the tenderness of maternal love. Really what the world is in need of now is not more unbridled consumerism but for people of goodwill to stand up for peace. So, if you find yourself praying during this season, let it be for peace.

Happy holidays to everyone and my heartfelt wishes for happiness to all!

The post CHRISTMAS CUDDLES: COMÈTE, CUIR BELUGA, DANS PARIS. appeared first on Pixidis Perfumes.

Amber perfumes can also include incense notes such as frankincense, myrrh or olibanum, sometimes some musks, both animalic (i.e. ambergris) or non-animalic, depending on when they were created or the desired effect,  as well as woody materials such as patchouli. Those are the basic notes that characterise amber scents, which can then be enriched by a myriad of other notes, be it woody, floral, aromatic or spicy.

But instead of providing you here with a long list of amber scents that ought to begin with the famous Ambre Antique by Coty, which dates back to 1905, I wanted to focus on scents that feel particularly comforting when the weather turns cold, without being so heavy as to require frigid temperatures to be worn. A delicate balance to strike. Warm but not too rich. So perfumes that act as the olfactive equivalent of a cup of cocoa or a cashmere sweater. As always, these perceptions are personal and debatable, but if I were to draw a conclusion from the selection I’ve made, is that most contain benzoin, as well as some herbal or spicy notes to balance the sweeter elements of the composition and prevent it from becoming too “flat”, some woody materials to give body and anchor the composition and a moderate use of gourmand raw materials such as vanilla, vanillin or ethyl vanillin.

-31 rue Cambon, Les Exclusifs by Chanel, created by Jacques Polge

Classified as a woody chypre, I start this selection with an exception to the amber list I have just made. No benzoin is listed but there is clearly labdanum, also a resin, and some woody notes such as patchouli, as well as quite strong floral notes and a burst of citruses and aldehydes in the opening. What does it smell like? Like an impossibly chic lady in the 1930s, dressed in a long maroon dress, with a fur stole, leather gloves and carmine lipstick. I’m not that woman and never manage to get out of the house looking immaculate (too much work) but when I’m wearing 31 rue Cambon, I feel enveloped in an aura of luxury and quiet comfort. An olfactive cocoon.

We move now to the benzoin trifecta, all classified as amber scents, all containing heavy doses of benzoin as well as incense-related notes.

–Benjoin Boheme by Diptyque (not sure about the perfumer, maybe the late Olivier Pescheux?)

The easiest to wear, I think, is Benjoin Boheme, unsurprisingly. It is the fresher of the three and the one where the benzoin is balanced with herbal and green notes such as angelica. It’s a joy to wear, won’t smother you in sweetness and will just say, when you smell your wrists: welcome to autumn! (P.S: haven’t tried the new formulation)

-Bois d’Armenie, by Guerlain, created by Annick Menardo

I mean, there are most definitely strong similarities between the Diptyque scent and this one. BA is quieter, less sparkly, has less of a projection but a stronger iris note, to sum it up in one sentence. So a more stately and introverted perfume with, and this may be due to the suggestive power of its name, a feeling of ancient paper (referencing the famous Papier d’Armenie, the little benzoin-soaked paper people in France, and not Armenia actually, burn to perfume their homes). The angelica of the Diptyque’s creation is replaced here by coriander in its role of the spicy element that lifts the composition. Very gentle and ideal to ease you into cool weather.It has just been discontinued, which is quite sad, but I was told it might come back as a limited edition, no doubt at (even) greater cost. But don’t despair, if you have only the Diptyque scent you are 80 % there.

– Akkad by Lubin, created by Delphine Thierry

Akkad is a much more incense-forward fragrance from the get-go, more “exotic” if you will. Olibanum, elemi and styrax all meld together to create this rich intoxicating mixture of smoke and incense, evocative of ancient temples and religious ceremonies held in city states long since forgotten by history. Not in the mystical vein of Avignon by CDG but more of an incense and amber scent built around not only resins but also cold spicy notes such as cardamom and elemi, with a touch of an animalic growl through styrax. Very evocative but maybe best for late autumn.

-Mortel by Trudon, created by Yann Vanier

This one is quite a departure from the previous three benzoin-heavy fragrances we have just discussed, but similarities include the creative decision to include fresh spices to liven  up the composition, in this case, nutmeg and pimento as well as black pepper. Myrrh, olibanum and labdanum provide the smokey incense base and heart, while sweet benzoin wraps everything up in its cuddly embrace. Out of the six scents, this is the smokiest and most “glossy”, not a million miles in terms of feeling from Chanel’s Le Lion.

-Finally to buck the trend, an outlier, the strange Nightclubbing by Celine (they never reveal their perfumer, which is a bit odd).

Nightclubbing is not immediately evocative of a cosy atmosphere you might say, but to this I reply that I don’t really think of partying when I wear this scent. I guess the reference is due to the cigarette smoke/ashtray note that is present through the use of galbanum and other notes. But to me, that’s not really off putting or particularly noticeable, it’s just a new iteration of the iris and smoke theme explored before by Iris Nazarena by Aedes de Venustas (ok, in another league I admit) or Iris Cendre by Naomi Goodsir. It’s just a very “buttoned up” autumn. Ok, it’s not really cosy but it’s a great autumn scent. No real sweetness but the powdery notes that are hard for me to pull off in real heat become manageable with cooling temperatures. See, I knew I’d mange to slip a non sweet offering in an amber selection. Actually, I’m not the most ardent proponent of layering, but this could work very well layered with Bois D’Armenie. They are linked by iris and a smokey aspect but take a different route.

What are your favourite scents for early autumn? Are they also amber scents? After all, we all picture comfort and cosiness differently. Let me know…

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 It seems like every year is the warmest ever, setting a new depressing record. Europe, according to meteorologist, is experiencing more severe temperature increases than the rest of the world, and all I can say is that, as someone living in Southern Europe, it is clearly noticeable. Only a lunatic would say at this stage that climate change is not real or that it is not adversely affecting our planet. What to do about it is a discussion for another forum but we are left to deal with how to cope with months of extreme heat.

I appreciate that discussing perfume seems bit pointless given what is at stake but focusing on small things is, at times, the only way to feel better. One option in such heat would be to forgo perfume altogether, as many scents can feel cloying. But to be honest, if you start sweating right after having had your shower, a little help from something that cuts through this feeling of having a constant coat of sweat helps.

So popular wisdom would recommend opting for a citrus cologne. And there is never anything wrong with that but I find bitterness is the better antidote to a muggy day. And although cologne are astringent due to the various citrus fruits they contain, they are not always very bitter. To be more precise, bitter is an adjective linked to taste rather than smell, making it generally unsuitable as a descriptor from an olfactive point of view. It is more of a “smell by thought association”. You eat or drink something bitter, remember its smell and associate it with the taste of bitterness..

So what are the most common bitter tastes/smells?

Some citrus fruits, like grapefruit especially, and some plants and trees are naturally bitter. Quinine for instance, an alkaloid derived from the bark of the cinchona tree and mostly used as an antimalaria drug, is very bitter, though you may be more familiar with it from soft drinks like Tonic Water and Italian Chinotto.

Some vegetables, such as artichokes and kale, as well as most other cruciferous greens, are bitter, as are herbs frequently used in “digestive” alcoholic drinks (that are called “bitters” (amari) in Italian, such as Amaro Montenegro, Fernet Branca, Cynar, etc). Staying in the drinks department, coffee, as well as green tea, are bitter, before you add sugar and/or milk..

So we are used to bitter tastes. They cleanse the palate, help digestion and I believe are the best defence to ward off the feeling of sticky heat that clings to one like a second skin in summer.“Gourmand” scents (so sweet dessert-like smelling perfumes) may still be all the rage but the tide might just be turning on that front. In a recent article in the “Zoe Report” by Megan McIntyre entitled “When it comes to perfume, it is ok to be bitter”, master perfumer Fabrice Pellegrin mentions: “The enthusiasm for bitter scents can be explained by the fact that they offer a new form of addiction, a real alternative to gourmand, sweet fragrances,” he says. “Bitter notes add a sophisticated, unique touch to compositions. It’s this elegant, original touch that appeals to consumers who want to assert their personality.”

From the perspective of someone who loathes sickly sweet perfumes, I find that encouraging. So there you go, here are my suggestions for the best bitter scents taken from a variety of olfactive families. But any scent in these categories has the potential for being refreshing, so enjoy exploring alternatives and please report back..

1. Citrus scent:

Naturally bitter and astringent there are many great citrus cologne you could turn to combat heat. I’m not going to go through an extensive list of all the colognes that could be refreshing, as most of them are, although grapefruit deserves a special mention, as it is particularly well suited to cut through mugginess because of its uniquely bitter, nearly sulfuric, character. In terms of grapefruit scents, there is no contest:  Guerlain’s Pamplelune reigns supreme. As a valid alternative, Pomelo Paradis from Atelier Cologne is lovely, although I am not entirely sure what is going on with the Atelier Cologne brand since it has been purchased by L’Oreal a few years ago.

2. Bitter Herbs:

Bitter herbs, such as dandelion, gentian root, wormwood or chamomile, all of whom often grow wild, are generally used for medicinal purposes and have this natural bitter therapeutic scent that helps cut through the feeling of stickiness and humidity.

Eau de Gentiane Blanche by Hermes is a very refined bitter scent, tempered by a cloud of musks and a plush iris, if you want a very sophisticated take on a bitter cologne.

Mal-Aimé by Parfum d’Empire, created by Marc Antoine Corticchiato is an ode to bitter greenness. Built around the Inula plant (a sort of nettle) from his native Corsica, it shares some aspects with galbanum, a more recognizable scent to most people (think Chanel N. 19), Intensely green, earthy, smoky almost (vetiver?) resting on a bed of musks (it is, after all, a 21st century creation), it is definitely one of the greenest scents I know, and one that does not kowtow  to market trends by rounding  off any bitter green edges with sweet or fruity notes.

3. Green Tea :

All teas have a bitter, tannic aspect, but green tea is especially bitter. Bulgari Eau Parfumée au Thé Vert is the original scent in that category. An oldie but a goodie. I remember discovering it for the first time in a chic hotel in Switzerland in the early 2000s: I was smitten. Smelling it now, its structure is quite simple relying on lots of hedione, bergamot, ionones and musks, so not a bitter bomb, but it has the slight ghost like memory of the bitterness of green tea, or at least Earl Grey, that is ideal in the heat. So an easy option for those wanting to add some easy, transparent, (slight) bitterness to their day. There is of course a whole line of Bulgari teas (white, back etc..), so explore and find the one you like most.

Others have followed suit, from the mass market Elizabeth Arden’s Green Tea line to the Japanese original take on tea with Roasted Green Tea from J-Scent via the more commercial Jo Malone’s Earl Grey and Cucumber (i.e. similar to the Bulgari with a side dish of aquatic notes).

To recap, if you want something uncomplicated and refreshing, tea fragrances are a good option that manage to provide some bitterness without rocking the boat.

4. Metallic Floral

So florals can be very cloying in summer, especially fruity florals, “florientals” and heady white florals. One way around this is to choose a bitter, slightly metallic floral composition. I find geranium rather than rose notes particularly well-suited to this genre, such as the wonderful Rose et Cuir by EdPFM (my summer scent this year) or the beautiful Eau de Protection by Etat Libre d‘Orange. Alternatively, if rose/geranium is not your jam, a narcissus-based perfume, a rather rare occurrence really, will also tend towards the bitter, such as the Eau de Narcisse Bleu by Hemes or the beautiful Eau de Rochas by Rochas, a cologne that incorporates masterfully the narcissus character  to the classic cologne structure (really one of my favourites in summer).

5. Resinous incense

Finally, incense perfumes. So incense, and myrrh in particular, has a naturally bitter facet and when used to create a cold incense composition (with, for instance, some pink pepper, elemi, citruses and blond woods) it can be very refreshing. The word myrrh itself derives from an Arabic word meaning bitter and is therfore sometimes called bitter myrrh.

In the hands of a skillful perfumer, cooling myrrh and frankincense perfumes can provide the feeling of entering a Medieval Monastery, full of moss-covered stones, murmuring fountains, melted wax candles, wooden pews and silence.

Some of my favourites include: Cardinal by Heeley, Avignon by Comme des Garçons and Reliques d’Amour by Oriza L. Legrand. Different scents that all evoke a spiritual retreat and an escape from the hustle and bustle of the world.

Waiting for the temperature to drop, I hope these ideas will help you pick your next refreshing scent!

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In Italy, summer is definitely already here with scorching temperatures making venturing outside from mid-morning to late afternoon quite a sweaty affair.

But summer also has its upside and for me, one of the best things that come with mad heat is most certainly the promise of a cooling splash in the sea. After a hot and sweaty day, plugging in clear, cool water is heaven. We each have our own stored memories of summer holidays spent by the sea and so, for a lot people, the scent of sand, sea, sun screen and seaweeds is intrinsically linked to experiences centred around relaxation, playfulness and joy.

No wonder perfumers have tried to capture that moment in scent since the discovery of synthetic molecules such as: Calone (created in 1966 and reminiscent of marine air with aniseed as well as watermelon undertones), Helional, another more toned-down marine synthetic molecule or Melonal (another synthetic molecule that can also be isolated from natural raw materials such as Litsea Cubeba and used, among other things, in the reproduction fruits such melon and watermelon),  etc.

Many factors need to coincide to create the “smell and feel” of a decade and they are hard to predict in advance. Of course, the obvious one is chemistry and the discovery of new molecules that enable perfumers to recreate smells that were previously impossible to translate in olfactive form. But that is only one of the many reasons why a decade ends up smelling the way it does. For marine and ozonic scents, I think one decade is particularly representative: the 1990s.

Cool Water (Davidoff created by Pierre Bourdon) and Aqua di Gio (Armani, created by Alberto Morillas) are the first masterpieces in that category that come to mind and although over 30 years old, they are still scents that are sold and relevant today. Not to mention L’Eau d’Issey, (Issey Miyake, created by Jacques Cavallier) with its oblong frosted bottle and futuristic design that exemplified this androgynous pure, “clean”, 90s trend.

I always find it interesting to think of where the world was at then, or at least the Western world (I am conscious of our bias to think of our immediate reality as universal, which, often, it is not). We were in the aftermath of the AIDS epidemic. The Berlin Wall had fallen and Fukuyama wrote its famous, now famously ill-judged book, “the end of history”. Models were super skinny and Kate Moss ruled the catwalks and advertising campaigns with her boyish figure. Make-up was minimal, hair straight and simple. Perfumes were, for the first time, actively marketed as unisex. In a way, it was the “anti-sex decade”.

It was, knowingly or not, the answer to the excesses of the 1980s, with its strong neon colours, permed hair, materialism, rock music and heavy and heady perfumes such as Opium by YSL, Poison by Dior or Giorgio Beverly Hills. Subtle was not the operative word and if the 8os needed a soundtrack, it would have been Madonna’s Material Girl. Of course all this excess led the pendulum to swing the opposite direction and minimal fabrics, looks and colours were the flavour “du jour” in the 90s. Even lipstick was brown then. Not nude, brown!

So perfume, as always, reflected this shift in atmosphere. Clean, transparent and non-obtrusive perfumes were what people were looking for. So no heady perfumes, no scent to seduce and inebriate the senses. Still, clean and minimal could have, and did, go in different directions. The scent of water was certainly one of the driving creative inspirations for perfumers, because what more elusive aim than to create the smell of nothing, the smell of a sensation most of all?

First of all, what defines marine and ozonic scents? If you think of natural raw materials, apart from seaweed extract that frankly smells like rotting pond water, not much is available. Recent progress in extraction methods open the possibility for an increased use of naturals to recreate marine scents but, so far, they have mainly been composed with synthetic molecules. Having said that, the sea isn’t the only organic element on the beach, as rocks, mosses and the small molluscs that grow on them as they are battered by the waves, are all equally important facets of the ozonic vibe.. how to translate this in scent?

The mineral aspect of rocks could maybe be reproduced with some dry woody materials, as well as the synthetic derivatives of ambergris such as Ambroxan. The lichen and mosses could be recreated with a mix of mosses (tree moss, oak moss or more probably synthetic molecules like Evernyl/Veramoss) and seaweed extract, although personally, I have not managed to tame this last material and find it near unusable. And then, there are the growing number of  natural isolates (such as Melonal)  that are used for the reproduction of high water-content fruits such as melon and watermelon that are also present by association with ozonic notes.

If we delve a little deeper into marine fragrances, apart from the scent of salt water (so basically salt, which is more related to taste than smell, and seaweed),  what we associate with “beach scents”is very much linked to he flora and fauna that surrounds the sea in question. Being by the sea in Portofino, Italy or Cefalonia, Greece is not the same as being on a beach on the Andaman Islands in India or the Maldives. The climate, what people eat, the products they use as sunscreen, the trees or flowers surrounding the beach will all contribute to create  a specific scent cocktail.

Which is why we suggest breaking down the smell of the sea in two geographic locations, Mediterranean and Tropical (which is insufficient I know, but I didn’t want this article to turn into a university thesis on the sea)  and in two of the main elements that are intrinsic to marine smells: sand and sunscreen.

For this edition of summer splash, I propose to focus on Mediterranean beach scents and keep the Tropical scents for a future edition of beach-theme perfumes.

MEDITERRENEAN BEACH

Well, living in Southern Europe, the most familiar smells to me are: pine trees, “Macchia Mediterranea” (Mediterranean vegetation or “Maquis” as the French call it), citrus trees, fig trees, wild caper plants, etc… Bitter drinks such as Campari or Quinotto are also part of the Summer experience, as are granitas (citrus, coffee or almond flavoured crushed iced). And who can forget ouzo or pastis with its cooling anisic notes.

Sunscreens are also fundamental part of the beach experience, but as mentioned, they demand a special write-up as they have become a popular sub-genre…

In any case, there is an endless list of perfumes that try to taken you on a Mediterranean get-away beach,  I will highlight a few.

–Acqua di Scandola (Parfum Empire)

An original re-imagining of the marine scent. Based on the beautiful island of Scandola in Corsica, the perfumer Marc-Antoine Corticchiato tried to reclaim the seaweed extract by having the extract re-worked to exclude some of the more problematic aspects of the material. I find it’s a modern interpretation of something like Cool Water. More naturalistic but maybe a little less impactful.On the whole, a pleasant ozonic smell, a bit masculine leaning. Not one of my favourite from the brand but well done none-the-less.

The one for those wanting to try what a “cleaned up”  seaweed extract can create.

–Aqua di Sale  (Perfumum Roma). Has many fans and goes into the dry woody and salty aspect of a Mediterranean beach. It list notes of cedar wood, myrtle, and seaweed. I would say this is a relatively easy reach and completely unisex.

The one for those wanting their “salty beach air” kick without much else to distract you.

–Un Jardin en Mediterranée (Hermes)

A Jean-Claude Ellena composition. Not strictly a marine scent but I think it captures beautifully all that is happening around the beach: citruses, the green lentiscus, fresh spices, dry woods and figs. A classic and masterful perfume.

The one for those wanting more the “Mediterranean experience” scent than a straight-up  beach.

-Eden Roc (Dior)

I believe this is the last scent created by Francois Demachy at Dior. A chic rendition of a mineral ambergris-type fragrance placed in a middle of an orange tree garden. A modern marine interpretation of a chic cologne. Meant as an ode to one of the most exclusive hotels on the French Riviera, I would not pay the retail price they ask for this, but to each their own.

The one for those wanting to smell marine but at the same time exude an aura of expensive sophistication.

–Watermelon (Shay and Blu): not strictly speaking a beach scent but one by association: watermelon is linked to marine smells as mentioned previously and is exactly what one longs to eat on the beach. So this is a really uncomplicated (slightly unsophisticated maybe and possibly for a younger crowd) guilty pleasure. Top tip, if put in the fridge before spraying, it is even nicer..

The one for those wanting a playful take on ozonic scents, definitely fruity but with enough “water” to quench your thirst on the beach.

–White Whale (Masque Milano)

So not a Mediterranean marine scent as such  but I had to include this dark horse in this selection. A Christian Alori composition, winner of the 2023 Aromata Prize for perfumes that translate literary works into scent, this is the creative olfactive proposal of Herman Melville masterpiece, Moby Dick. (For more info, see my recent article on this new competition: https://www.pixidisperfumes.com/aromata-where-literature-and-perfume-meet or the Aromata/LiberoStyle website: https://liberostile.org/en/aromata/). Claiming to contain real ambergris, it is not what you would expect. No seaweed in sight, but a rather surprising fruity laconic peach undertone to this marine scent. The animalic kinkiness of ambergris is there (that’s the whale), the fruitiness is unexpected. So Mitsouko meets Capitan Ahab. Why not.

The one for those who avoid obvious choices and want a bit more backstory to their marine scent.

Now that we have covered Mediterranean-focused scents and let’s be honest, I could have mentioned another 80 scents and still not have a  comprehensive list, but as their say in French: “le mieux est l’ennemi du bien”,  let’s move on to perfumes that focus on recreating the smell of sand and sunscreen..

SCORCHING SAND 

Sand per see doesn’t mell like much, so we are really trying to translate a sensation rather than a smell. I wanted to highlight two perfumes that have focused on such a challenge: Sables by Annick Goutal and L’Eau des Immortels by Voyages Imaginaires. Both created by Isabelle Doyen.

-Sables  (Anick Goutal) focuses on the immortelle flower or helichrysum italicum (the everlasting flower that grows in southern France and Corsica). Created in 1980s, it gives an impressionistic feeling of sun-bathing on a hot sandy beach with whiffs of the surrounding dry Mediterranean vegetation tickling your nostrils while you sleep.  It is sweet, salty and aromatic all at once and has this incredible ability to translate heat into scent.

-L’eau des Immortels (Voyages Imaginaires) is the natural perfume equivalent of Sables. Created 40 years after Sables by the same perfumer, Isabel Doyen,  the concept is similar. An ambery/woody scent also focused on immortelle, it is possibly not the easiest perfume to pull off when the weather is too hot. There is a definite boozy quality to the perfume, as a well as leathery and honey undertones. Make sure you love it before you commit and spray this, as it lasts forever even though it is a natural scent. Also shout out the Voyages Immaginaires’ brand presentation. The box with a beautiful drawing, the bottle, the brass metal cap, it’s all incredibly beautiful.

This is the scent of a very refined aesthete sipping cognac after dinner when everyone else is drinking beer.

Now moving on to the most light-hearted category: sunscreen scents!

SUNSCREEN IN A BOTTLE 

What is more quintessentially linked to the beach than sunscreen?

As with all cheaper beauty and household goods, the smells of these products are very much dependant on geographical location, as a sunscreen used in South America will not necessarily smells like the ones used in Asia or Europe. Nez Magazine made an interesting point about this, which I confess as a European I had overlooked. I will quote an article on sunscreen published by Nez in 2022 about these distinctions: https://mag.bynez.com/en/olfactory-culture/smells-of-the-beach/)

In Europe at least, I associate sunscreen with benzyl salicylate, which makes sense as it is also an UV protector filter in addition to being a component of tropical flowers such ylang, so it is automatically used in most sunscreens.  It has a very distinctive solar spicy flower vibe and one that is intrinsically linked to sunscreen in most people’s subconscious. Ambre Solaire, Nivea Cream, Avène, etc.  all have different nuances, but benzyl salicylate runs through all of them. As a rule of thumb, more upmarket pharmacy brand, like Vichy, Rilastil and La Roche Posay are more delicately and discreetly fragranced, their consistency is also generally less goopy and thick.  Drugstore brands such as Nivea and Ambre Solaire are strongly scented are have generally an oily tropical flower, nearly coconut, undertone.

Then there are the Hawaiian Tropic oils and lotions, a US brand that was present in Italy when I was a child and whose more popular products barely featured any sun protection! My mother would never allow us to use these as their low sun protection (4, 8, 15 at the time) made them unsuitable for kids (or anyone really) but I remember that I found their strong coconut scent irresistible. My skin is grateful but it’s funny to how that scent still carries the allure of something forbidden to me.

Of course, brands jumped on the band wagon on this one, so this is just a small selection of what exists. I would say, as a small side note, that this is one category of perfumes where you really don’t need to spend a fortune…

–Le Prodigeux Parfum (Nuxe):  The famous body oil sold in pharmacies in France and through-out Europe now, the perfume is subtle and easy to wear, and somewhat more refreshing than the other suntan lotion scents and features orange flower, almond trees and coconut.

–Terracotta  (Guerlain): A Thierry Wasseur creation, a sunny fragrance that is inspired by the famous terracotta powder and focuses on solar flowers (ylang) and vanilla. Comforting and discreet.

–Nivea Sun (Nivea): A cheapy, inspired by the suncream, this could be everyone’s childhood memory of being lathered in sunscreen by your parents..

-Sun (Jill Sander): Created by none less than Pierre Bourdon, it’s again a spicy, tropical flower, ambery perfume that perfectly mimics the suntan lotion feel. For those who can’ get enough of 8 hours on the beach. Another for the price conscious among us.

So beach, sand and sunscreen, we’ve covered it all.

Now all that is left to say, is to wish you a happy and perfumed summer holidays by the sea!

Enjoy!

The post SUMMER SPLASH appeared first on Pixidis Perfumes.

Who am I to argue, as they say in French, “les goûts et les couleurs ne se discutent pas”, tastes and preferences are a matter of personal opinion. But, as someone who loves green scents, this state of affairs has always left me slightly baffled. What’s so challenging about them? Is it the common absence of sweetness? Are they too “natural” smelling, too bitter? First of all, what do people mean when they talk about green scents? Do they mean refreshing aromatic perfumes full of herbs such as mint and basil? Do they think of spring-evoking green florals such as hyacinth and lily-of-the valley? Dark mossy chypres or do they just refer to “freshly mown grass ” type of odor?

My understanding from perfume school is that “green” is not an actual perfume “family” (i.e. category) in and of itself but rather a facet (i.e. a subcategory if you will), and that it is generally accepted (although all is up for debate in perfumery) that there are only seven fragrance families: citrus, fruity, floral, fougère, chypre, woody and ambery (ex “oriental”) – a much debated term but we will save that discussion for another day.

Although the green facet can apply to numerous families, for instance, you could have a floral scent with a green facet (think of most lily-of-the-valley scents such as Diorissimo, etc.) or indeed an aromatic scent with a green bent, (think of Herba Fresca by Guerlain), I think what I have in mind in terms of “green perfumes” are those that best translate the outdoorsy, “meadow in a storm” feel of nature in spring. So yes, there is a certain bitterness that is intrinsic to green smells, although arguably grass has also a sweet facet.

What’s the appeal? Green scents, for me, often provide a cooling and a calming sensation, a sort of “olfactive meditation” like going for a solitary long walk outside to clear’s one head, surrounded by the smell of grass, leaves, shrubs, wet earth, moss and soil. Where is the challenge in that?

Well, let’s look at how they are composed first to try to understand green scents.

Paradoxically, if I put my apprentice perfumer’s hat on, not a lot of natural raw materials can be used to create green accords, so the perfumer often has so rely on synthetic molecules to create a green effect. Among the few natural raw materials in the perfumer’s palette, the most notable one is Galbanum, a gum resin traditionally cultivated in Iran and that has a fresh green bean/green pea smell and is intensely bitter and green. It is a common trope that although this note is popular with perfumers it is often very unpopular with the general public, limiting its use in commercial perfumery. Lentiscus Absolute (also called mastic) is another adjacent natural green raw material that can be used in combination with galbanum or as a replacement to give the perfume a more modern twist.

Violet leaf absolute is another natural raw material that is available to the perfumer but although it is classified as green, and, unlike the name suggests, bears little resemblance in terms of scent profile to the flower, for me, with its strong cucumber note, it is mainly watery rather than green.

There are other natural raw materials that have a green facet although they are not strictly speaking classified as green material such as blackcurrant bud absolute (a fruity note with an astringent green twist) or Angelica roots essential oil which is classifies as a herbal note but has a green medicinal facet.

Then there are of course a lot synthetic molecules that are used to create green accords, first and foremost, styrallyl acetate (which most people associate with the smell of rhurbarb, and has been used for instance in Synthetic Jungle by EdPFM) and Triplal or Cis 3 Hexenol (both with an intense green grass smell, the first being more “metallic”  than the second).

 These are just some of the main materials that are used to create a green accord but they then need to be associated with other notes to create a perfume.. Before giving you a count-down of some of my favorite green scent and a sort of break-down of the various “directions” green can take, I just wanted to say a few words about my quest for green.

Reading reviews or listen to online critics claim this or that scent as “super green” always makes my heart skip a beat: yes, finally a green scent that could satisfy my quest for the vibrant bitter smell of spring.

And then, invariably, they fail to live up to my expectation, probably because the perfumers composing the scents generally try to balance the composition and curb the bitter greenness with other “softer” notes (Green Spell by Eris, I’m looking at you!).

For me, green scents are also somewhat symbolic of feminism, or rather female empowerment, as well as hope and optimism. This could be due to the fact that one of the ultimate green scents, the discontinued Vent Vert by Balmain, was created in 1947 by genius perfumer Germaine Cellier, who was one of the first women perfumers in an industry targeting mainly women but managed almost exclusively by men!

It could also be due to the easy association of green scents with the 70s, “the” green chypre decade, a time when women’s access to the job market became easier, in part due to the availability of the contraceptive pill, creating a wind of change which translated, at least that’s my interpretation, into a wave of green scents. By the way, also interesting to note that the green chypre decade was launched in 1966 by another women’s composition, Josephine Catapano’s Fidji by Guy Laroche.

Aside from its symbolism and the linage of the first green scent being “birthed”  by a woman, for me green perfumes are mainly an olfactive mediation, a solitary retreat, a “me time” scent. How can this not be popular?

Recently, courtesy of my kids, I watched an episode or two of “Hot Ones”, the TV contest where hapless celebrity participants are asked to eat gradually hotter and hotter pimento-soaked chicken wings while answering the host’s questions… (I know, I know, what can I say?). I’m ashamed to confess, it’s strangely addictive.

So what I suggest here, is a similar concept: a selection of daredevil green scents presented on an ascending scale of greeness, offering a gradual easing into verdant territory…

1. Let’s start with some easy-going greens: “spring aromatic greens”.

 Not much of challenge I should think, the mild entry level options for those not accustomed to green scents.

Herba Fresca by Guerlain and l’Eau de Campagne, by Sisley. The oldest is “Eau de Campagne,” (JC Ellena, again) from the 70s and the one that I reach for the least. Although based around the inviting concept of a herb and vegetable summer garden (think sweet basil and tomato-leaf), I find it a bit too powdery and elderly gentleman’s cologne-like, but a classic none-the-less. By comparison, Herba Fresca, created by Mathilde Laurent, is neon green with a pronounced zingy mint note like a florescent mojito, refreshing and cooling without ever veering into toothpaste territory.

2. Then, moving from herbal cologne style to green floral (chypre) scents, we are now firmly in springtime territory.

Think gardens in April, white (non-narcotic) flowers (lilly of the valley and Hyacinth come to mind), accompanied by verdant notes such as Galbanum and grass notes.

The king of them all is the now discontinued Vent Vert by Balmain. I think the main distinctive feature being the enormous dose of galbanum it contained (allegedly 8%!). Vent vert really created the green facet and was the inspiration for many scents that followed, from Fidji by Guy Laroche, to Chanel’s N. 19, etc.

So let’s look at a few of them:

– Fidji, Guy Laroche, by Josephine Catapano. Created in 1966, it was a personal favorite of mine when I was a teenager and is often overlooked by those examining vintage creations. Still in production today (although I must confess I don’t know what shape it is in now…), it offers the typical blend of while florals on a woody-mossy base. It is an important scent, influenced also by Nina Ricci L’Air du Temps’ floral bouquet but modernized for the 70s and made greener.

-Diorissimo, Dior, by Edmond Roudniska. Needs no introduction. An ode to the muguet flower, the lucky charm of Mr. Dior and the symbol of spring par excellence.

– Week end a Deauville (now renamed, “Weekend in Normandy”, could it be that Chanel made de Nicolai change the name because of its own perfume called Paris-Deauville? Mystery…) by Patricia de Nicolaï. It’s a kissing cousin to Chanel’s Cristalle but I have to admit I find it oddly dated. In general, I find that de Nicolaï delivers beautiful scents but done in a very traditional composition style.

-N.19. 19 EDT, Chanel, by Henri Robert (Galbanum, Hyacinth, Rose, lilly-of-the-valley, jasmin, ylang, iris and vetiver). N. 19 also shares this mix of floral notes but is more iris and galbanum focused compared to the others, resulting in a powderier and somewhat more strident scent.

They all have this bracing green floral effect that immediately makes you think of spring, green stems and fresh air, and a strong galbanum note.

      3.  Moving on to fruity greens, the summery take on this facet if you will.

I feel this is the category that still manages to garner some support with modern customers, as green notes are tempered with crunchy fruit accords (apple and pear) and water-based fruits such as melon or lichee, or tropical fruit like guava and finally “sticky” sweet fruits such as figs. They generally still contain some of the same floral elements of the previous category (hyacinth, muguet and rose) but with an added fruity note. I think nowadays, Antoine Lie and Anne Flipo are the king and queen of this category, with respectively, to name a few, Synthetic Jungle by EdPFM (Anne Flipo), Green Spell by Eris Parfum (Antoine Lie), Aphelie by Trudon (Antoine Lie).

Sometimes fruity greens take a rather odd bent, like with Panorama by Olfactive Studio created by Clement Gavarry. I mean, it’s a strange scent, flirting with aquatic notes and emanating an odd fluorescent aura of overripe melon. It’s like a green scent developed by HAL; the computer from Kubrick’s “2001 Space Odyssey”. Quite menacing really, at least to me. I think, objectively, all these scents feel more modern than the straight out-and-out green floral scents mentioned previously and more wearable.

4. Finally, to close the year’s selection, for colder months there are the oriental /ambery green perfumes, as well as leathery greens, certainly the most challenging scents. 

These contain some similar elements to the previous categories (galbanum, spring florals, woods and moss)  but I separate them due to their ambery (or leathery) component. I mean, green and amber are an odd mix in a way, because green notes are generally the polar opposite of ambery ones.

Oriental green scents:

Vol de nuit, Guerlain by Jacques Guerlain

Black Narcissus, aka famous blogger and author Neil Chapman,  has written the most beautiful piece about Vol de Nuit on his blog, which I urge you to read, so there is not much left to say. Suffice to mention that the scent perfectly translates in olfactive form the novel (Vol de Nuit by Antoine de Saint Exupery) that inspired its creation and manages the no small feat of being both cold and green yet warm and ambery at the same time. A completely abstract composition yet entirely evocative of the world it conjures. Hard to wear if one is being honest but just beautiful in a way any real piece of art is.

Dryad, Papillon Perfumery, Liz Moores

The worthy successor of Vol de Nuit, Dryad leans into jonquille and moss territory and feels slightly less abstract than his predecessor. It’s as if Fabien, the pilot from the novel, finally managed to land his plane and is now stuck in a deep forest in spring, filled with yellow and indigo-tinged flowers on a bed of moss. A happier ending altogether!

Leather green scents:

Bel Respiro, Chanel

Finally, I have to close this selection with another green scent that is possibly hard to wear, the beautiful Bel Respiro from Chanel. Created in 2007 by Jacques Polge, it’s a wind-swept meadow on top of a cliff on chilly spring day in Normandy (the perfume is not inspired by that place, but I see the cliffs of Etretat when I wear it). You can almost smell the green grass undulating under a saline breeze that is both invigorating and slightly scary. An underlining leather note further emphasizes the outdoorsy feel of the perfume, as if the person in this imaginary landscape had been horse-back riding to get to the cliff’s edge. There is a clear element of danger and unpredictability. So the opposite of a friendly perfume. Moody and beautiful but strictly for the green afficionado.

I hope this article inspires you to give green scents a try, I wager there is one that could catch your heart!

The post SPRING GREENS: THE LEAST POPULAR FRAGRANCES? appeared first on Pixidis Perfumes.

Of course to some, mimosa may first bring to mind the refreshing champagne and orange drink by the same name, or, in Italy at least, the eponymous cake generally prepared on the 8th March, as the flower has been since the end of WWII, the symbol of Women’s Day.

Speaking for myself, this fluffy yellow flower holds special significance, as nearly two decades ago, we planted in our garden a Mimosa tree in memory of my father. Overlooking sharp cliffs and the Mediterranean sea, and despite an increasingly dry climate with few downpours,  it blooms every year around the anniversary of his passing. Each time I see it in full bloom, it makes me smile, as though a little sun and joy from the universe was sent especially for us, which prompted me to write this article.

Visually speaking, a mimosa tree in bloom is truly like a golden rainbow,  a pollen-filled fan made of tiny yellow pearls . But before delving into the olfactive profile of the flower and its use in perfumery, it might be worth clarifying which variety is used in the perfume industry.

There are many different mimosa variety and most are not used in fine fragrances, such as Acacia pycnantha in Australia or Mimosa Pudica in India (what a great name by the way). The one most often found in Europe and used in perfumery, is Acacia Dealbata, not to be confused with a similar looking tree from the same family, also used in perfumery, called Acacia Farnesiana (or the cassie flower).

Botanically speaking, the mimosa we see in our gardens in Europe belongs to the acacia family, an indigenous tree from Australia and which was only introduced to Europe and the Mediterranean region in the 19^thCentury, becoming since then synonymous with the South of France and the mountaneous area overlooking the Côte d’Azur called the “Massif du Tanneron”. In the context of fine perfumery, it is the mimosa absolute from the mimosa dealbata variety that is used, which is produced by a two-step extraction process. First, a “concrete” is produced from the fresh flowers of the plant by means of a solvent volatile extraction process using hexane. Then the concrete, which is a waxy paste, is “washed” with ethanol to remove all wax molecules, and produces an absolute (i.e. a thick liquid) which is used in perfumery.

So what about the smell of the mimosa absolute? It’s quite different from the fresh flower fragrance you might have smelled when walking next to a tree in full bloom. It is much heavier, cucumber/violet leaf like, green and powdery, animalic and honeyed, and it is classified as a powdery note in perfumery not a floral one. I think it would be fair to say that because of its costs (depending on where it is produced, the cost per kilo can vary between 1,000 EUR when produced in India to 3,600 EUR for French mimosa absolute) and also its olfactive profile, it is not a common fragrance ingredient, nor a particularly popular one.

If I try to think off the top of my head of a major perfume by a commercial brand centered around mimosa, and I exclude vintage perfumes,  I struggle to find one. If we go to the niche perfumery sector, the ones that come to mind fall into one of five categories:

First, perfumes that are cologne-like, and have mimosa as sort of “anchor” and are often paired with white florals such as neroli and orange blossom (ex. Belle de Grasse by Fragonard) or take a slight marine bend to mimic some of the olfactive component of the flower (mimosas contains a molecule called  “nonandienal” which resembles the smell of cucumber). These are the lighter options for mimosa compositions, a good entry point if you will.

Second are symphonic floral perfumes that have mimosa as only one part of the floral theme, bringing a powdery-animal facet that adds a natural touch to the composition. This would be the more “old fashioned” (what ever the term may mean) or at least traditional use of mimosa.

Thirdly, you have perfumes that attempt to faithfully replicate the smell of mimosa flowers. I find some mesmerising and the best at bringing me back to being in my garden in January.

Then there are the mimosa and spice compositions, which I personally find the most interesting, as mimosa’s powdery nature is balanced with zingy spicy notes.

The final category is the “retro” mimosa, which represent a mix of symphonic floral scents with vintage ingredients or structure  (such as aldehydes and animal musks). In my mind, those compositions also tend to lean into the animal facet of mimosa that is often paired with a leather accord.

In any case, regardless of their category, I don’t think mimosa scents have been particularly successful in the 21st century..

Let’s have a look at a few.

Starting by a commercial designer brand, Prada, who, on the back of the enormous success of its Infusion D’Iris perfume, developed a whole range of scents as variation of the original “juice” and included one around mimosa called Infusion de Mimosa.  If memory serves, it veered more towards a cologne structure and was not a million miles from Fragonard’s “Belle de Grasse” (incidentally created by the same perfumer, Daniela Andrier), but as of February 2024, I believe it has been discontinued.

Then there are also commercial “niche” brands that have released a few mimosa scents, like Jo Malone’s Mimosa Cardamom, which successfully managed to bring mimosa into the 21^st century by adding “zing” and freshness to the note with the combination of cardamom, as well as sweeter and complimentary notes such as tonka and creamy sandalwood. It’s quite lovely and the “fluffiness” of mimosa, which can be a bit cloying and vintage smelling, is beautifully off-set by cardamom, a scent I always associate with Indian Chai tea, producing a sweet, milky (sandalwood) and spicy effect. I would definitely wear that in spring if a bottle fell into my lap..

Mimosa is, of course, not always the star of a perfume, as it can enter a floral bouquet to give depth to the composition such as in the famous 90s perfumes like Kenzo’s “Parfum d’été”, with the famous bottle shaped as a leaf, or Lancôme’s Poême, a symphony of yellow flowers. Again, I don’t know how well these scents have transitioned into the 21st century.

There are also many others that have been discontinued such as gems like L’Artisan Parfumeur’s Mimosa Pour Moi by Anne Flipo which took the leather aspect of mimosa and paired with its ozonic cumber-like green facet, or Indigo Mimosa from Atelier Cologne, which also choose the leather accord route but gave it a more soft suede-like texture with the addition of saffron as a spicy twist.

I think I would be remiss if I didn’t mention in this list , the original mimosa-centric fragrance, i.e. Caron’s Farnesiana from the 194os, now discontinued. I have to confess not remembering smelling that perfume, but from memory, having tried in passing a few of the Caron’s modern interpretation of their historic scents, Caron’s legacy perfumes often feel a bit dated, unlike the Chanel ones for instance (I think this whole concept of “modern and dated” in terms of perfume composition merits its own in-depth analysis but we won’t get into this here). However, if you are studying mimosa in perfumery, it’s worth hunting this one down and there are, no doubt, a few available bottles on e-bay and such sites.

I wanted to highlight two scents that in my view capture the spirit of mimosa, one that leans into a hyper realistic rendition of the flower in bloom, Mimosa Tanneron, by Perris Montecarlo, created by Jean-Claude Ellena, and one that is definitely a more allegorical take on mimosa (it’s actually an ode to the cassie flower, a botanical sister to mimosa, but contains also mimosa dealbata in its composition), une Fleur de Cassie by Edition de Parfum Frederic Malle, created by Dominique Ropion.

I think both manage to be contemporary in very different ways: the Ellena’s creation, by leaning into the “olfactive-snap-shot-of-the-flower” vibe in a way that gives me goosebumps. It’s literally like being next to the tree in bloom, its honeyed powdery scent weaving a sun kissed blanket around you, comforting and delicate but never boring. It’s a scent that has stayed with me and that is defiantly on my “to buy” list when finances will allow it…

While the Ropion composition is just odd and singular, I once heard it described as a “jolie laide” scent, not in the literal translation of “pretty ugly” but in its French meaning of a girl that is pretty in an unconventional way, a sort of Carrie Bradshow in Sex in the City, full of personality and panache. It leans into the vintage atmosphere in a way that makes it modern, like a teenager wearing proudly her great-grand mother’s vintage coat, chic precisely because of the contrast of young and old, full of the certainty that everything in fashion comes and goes again.

Honestly, I don’t think either of these scents are big commercial hits, which is a real shame. Looking at the EdPFM website, it seems like they are only offering now the 100 ml bottle of Une Fleur de Cassie, so it’s possible that they are looking at discontinuing the scent, or limiting its release to the big format and making it boutique exclusive for instance.  And while Mimosa Tanneron is definitely more wearable and less enigmatic, I doubt it is among the commercial hits of the collection.

So there you go: mimosa, a scent for those who value independence of judgement and a life lived on their own terms.

So how would you envisage mimosa in a scent? What would be your dream pairing, if we come to the conclusion that mimosa scents have not yet won public favour? Personally, as I am always looking at materials through the prism of possible creative avenues for new scents, I would champion the creation of a “gourmand” mimosa, but a mature and sofisticated one. So taking the honeyed, fluffy texture of mimosa, pairing it with spices (cardamom has been done, let’s think of something else) and developing something along those lines, with the operative word being  “lightness of composition”, so nothing thick or gloopy.

Anyway, watch this space.

I think if you want to dip your toes in the mimosa experience, it might be easier to start with the Jo Malone’s mimosa (Mimosa and Cardamom) or the Fragonard one (Belle de Grasse), which is, as usual for the brand, very reasonably priced.

March the 8th is just around the corner and what better way to celebrate all the women in our life than to give them a bit of mimosa’s sunshine in a bottle..

Happy Mimosa season!

The post MIMOSA: WINTER’S SUN appeared first on Pixidis Perfumes.

How many times a new reign started with promises of change only to end up repeating the same mistakes and cruelties as the old one? At the same time, it is that very belief that helps people overcome adversity and often makes the difference between success and failure in trying times. It is probably what lies at the heart of every generous impulse, what fuels the creative mind and what makes the brave risk everything for a promise of a better tomorrow.

So what better way to start a new year than to celebrate fragrances that represent optimism and hope. Of course, I acknowledge this is a particularly arbitrary category, how can a scent represent hope and optimism, as these are personal feelings that cannot be “bottled”?  So while it is already a well-established fact that scents are indeed linked it to memory formation (the famous “madeleine de Proust effect” related to an episode recounted in the French writer’s masterpiece: “A la recherche du temps perdu”) these are generally specific to each individual, making it hard to extrapolate universal scent associations.

SCENTS AND EMOTIONS

But imagine, from the fragrance industry perspective, what this would represent, to know that, for instance, the smell of orange is a universal trigger for joy and optimism? Some scientists are indeed investigating whether some odorant molecules are universal triggers for specific emotions, and many experiments have been carried out with that objective in mind. (see for instance the following research paper from the university of Lorraine in France : http://ensaia.univ-lorraine.fr/telechargements/rapport_projet_pro_odeurs_et_emotions.pdf)

Of course, one main stumbling block to identifying universal scent triggers is how culturally and geographically linked smells and emotions are, so what is pleasant in one region and culture might be repulsive in another. According to Ilaria Resta, President, Global Perfumery at Firmenich, one of the leading fragrance manufacturer: “to drive emotion through scent, one solution does not fit all. For example, the smell of durian fruit recalls energy and wellbeing in China, but triggers dislike in the US” (some have compared the fruit’s smell to that of dirty socks!).

I see how this complicates things for companies trying to make a buck, but for me, that’s where the magic happens. In any case, big companies and scientists are hard at work trying to develop models that will somehow work alongside AI to predict and develop scents meant to elicit specific emotions and responses. Of course, we are miles away from the artistic approach to scent creation of the late 19th and 20^th century and this research of scents that are universally pleasing or that elicit a specific response shared by the greatest number of people is, in my view, in part responsible for the supremacy of gourmand notes we have nowadays.

It’s not so much the case of “a rose, is a rose, is a rose” but more of “a cake, is a cake, is a cake”, as sweet notes seem to be a universal signifier for pleasure. Take for instance vanillin (which incidentally is also present in milk, after all, everyone’s first olfactive and “tasting” experience) to name just one of these synthetic molecules used to replicate the smell of baked goods, nearly everyone agrees that it is a pleasant smell, as nature, as well as modern life, have programmed us to identify it as something good. It is therefore easy to see how sweet notes provide a somewhat “lazy” consensus across all geographic and age demographics, in a way that say bitter notes or even floral notes do not.

OPTIMISTIC SCENTS

In any case, back to optimism. As detailed above, the link between emotions and scents is being studied by corporations and people with large pockets and big interests at stake and I am afraid I don’t have any scientific data to back any of my selection today, but I wanted to offer a few suggestions for scents that bring a smile on my face and never fail to make me feel energized.

I will subdivide them in a few categories, as “hopeful” can take various guises:

Citrus scents:

Always sure to boost my energy levels and make me consider the day under a better light. There are many, many citrus scents out there, so I won’t list them all but I decided to highlight the two that mean something special to me: one that stole my younger son’s heart, he refers to it has “his” perfume (now 7, he was only 5 when he first smelled it and fell in love) Mandarino by Laboratorio Olfattivo, and one that represents my youth and that I associate with my time spent in China: Mathilde Laurent’s gem for Guerlain in the Aqua Allegoria line: Pamplune.

-Mandarino by Laboratorio Olfattivo. A creation by Jean-Claude Ellena

Jean-Claude, I like calling him like that…In my head it makes him like my imaginary friend. And to think I was once, in 2022, at the opening of a fragrance exhibit at the MIP (Musée International de la Parfumerie), a meter or so away from him! I was at the time studying perfumery at 5eme Sens and a friend pestered me to go over and talk to him but I assumed he was probably just fed up with people accosting him and I just couldn’t muster the courage, stupid me!

In any case, as I was saying, Mr Ellena described in an interview the key to the scent as being an accord between mandarin and passion fruit. All citrus scents rely on a blend of several citruses, so it’s never a question of just taking mandarin essential oil and diluting in alcohol, and voilà.. In any case, this perfume is quite sweet, hopeful, full of sun and smiles, indeed slightly tropical, and you cannot feel depressed when smelling this. What better praise? I love it. It’s certainly on the sweeter side for a citrus scent and so for me, more of a spring than summer reach.

–Pamplune by Guerlain in the Aqua Allegoria Line. A creation by Mathilde Laurent (now Cartier’s in house perfumer)

I had this fragrance in the late 90s/early 2000s and then I must have finished my bottle and never repurchased it. After being out of my fragrance collection for over 20 years,  I bought it again two years ago at a duty-free and whoosh ..all of a sudden I was back in Beijing’s sweltering heat, in my twenties, listening to music, probably Sheryl Crowe or Cat Stevens or something like that, on what must of have still been a “disk man” (remember those, anyone over 45? After the walkman and before the ipod, what a trip! Totally impractical, as the disk kept on skipping…).

Fantastic. Fantastic in the heat too. It captures the bitter, sulfuric aspect of grapefruit, without trying to hide the spikier aspect of the smell. It’s pungent enough to cut through humidity and heat, and zesty enough to make it refreshing, unlike citrus scents that choose a sweeter route like Mandarino. It’s like a Campari orange if you like. Bitter and fresh, with personality and decent longevity. At perfumery school, when discovering raw materials in Grasse I came across a specialty base material called: “Citroasis 184040,” manufactured by Firmenich. It was literally like smelling Pamplune and smelling it convinced me to go looking for the scent again…

Floral Scents

–La Chasse aux papillons, by l’Artisan Parfumeur. A creation by Anne Flipo

I love the name. Ok, it’s a bit fey and corny but what of it? And the scent is just so pretty. So in theory, not really my kind of scent, I like scents with more of an edge now, but who can resist such guileless charm? If it were an advert, it would be one of the 1980s Timothei Shampoo commercials, with a very blond lady dressed in a white summer dress walking through fields of flowers. That’s the vibe. No dark forest in the background, just joyful flowery sunshine.

Not really a flower-shop style fragrance either, like for instance Pleasures by Estee Lauder, but more of an ultra-feminine white floral (orange flower without the indols, linden blossom, banana-like jasmine and creamy tuberose) and musk perfume. Like a colourful Faliero Sarti shawl for spring nights, enveloping and delicate.I make it sound boring but really it is gorgeous. When I feel upset with the world, I just smell it and think: after all, tomorrow is another day! (PS: not so keen on the intense version l’artisans has come up with, a bit brasher, it has lost some of its delicate aura)

–N°5 L’Eau by Chanel. A creation by Olivier Polge

So there is no need to present Chanel N.5. I won’t bore you with who and when and how, etc.

L’Eau is really the 2nd of the N.5 flankers (if you don’t count the differences that exist between EDT, EDP and extrait) made in an attempt to keep this venerable scent relevant to modern consumers. L’Eau Première, the first one, has, as far as I know, been discontinued. As is often the case, perfumistas and the wider consumer market had a different reaction to the scent. The first gave it a lukewarm reception, finding it too far from the original scent, while people a little less invested in the perfume world seem to embrace it, seemingly thinking: “finally I can wear a piece of history while not smelling dated”. I think it’s fair to say that this version is farthest from the original perfume.

It’s like the ghost of Chanel N. 5 and I don’t mean this in a bad way. It’s full of citrus, has lighter florals, less aldehydes and amber notes, no woods and moss but lots of musks, so it is no longer an aldehydic floral chypre and is closer to a floral cologne really. Let’s face it, it’s N. 5 on a quite strict diet and without its shoulder pads.. But something in its bright, citrusy, musky freshness that signals clean laundry, new beginnings and whiteness, appeals to me and gives me hope.

Green Scents

-Le Jardin du Poète, by Eau d’Italie. A creation by Bernard Duchaufour

The green entry of the list, and one that I have a lot of time for. It’s green without being harsh or bitter, which a lot of people associate with this category of scents, specially from the 70s. It’s more of an aromatic herb-and-citrus garden really, with sweet basil notes that resemble Chanel’s Paris-Deauville’s scent and a blast of mandarin and grapefruit, followed by a crisp pear note that is not listed, slight aquatic notes, (so there is a pond in the garden), fresh grass and a slight breezy attitude.

Nothing like the uncompromisingly bitter Vent Vert by Germaine Cellier or even Jacques Polge’s Bel Respiro by Chanel (EDT), both of them quite heavy on the galbanum. If you want to compare it to something, I guess it would be closer in spirit to Antoine Lie’s Green Spell by Eris and some other scents he made for Trudon (Aphelie etc.) or some of the Aqua Allegoria line by Guerlain. It’s lovely, easy to like, makes me think of a spring garden and sunny days to come. After all, spring is the universal symbol of hope

Let me know what scent makes you feel hopeful…

Talking about hope, I will leave you with the iconic poem by Maya Angelou, which was adapted into a beautiful song by Ben Harper in the late 90s.

Still I Rise (Maya Angelou)

You may write me down in history

With your bitter, twisted lies,

You may trod me in the very dirt

But still, like dust, I’ll rise.

Does my sassiness upset you?

Why are you beset with gloom?

’Cause I walk like I’ve got oil wells

Pumping in my living room.

Just like moons and like suns,

With the certainty of tides,

Just like hopes springing high,

Still I’ll rise.

Did you want to see me broken?

Bowed head and lowered eyes?

Shoulders falling down like teardrops,

Weakened by my soulful cries?

Does my haughtiness offend you?

Don’t you take it awful hard

Cause I laugh like I’ve got gold mines

Diggin’ in my own backyard.

You may shoot me with your words,

You may cut me with your eyes,

You may kill me with your hatefulness,

But still, like air, I’ll rise.

Does my sexiness upset you?

Does it come as a surprise

That I dance like I’ve got diamonds

At the meeting of my thighs?

Out of the huts of history’s shame

I rise

Up from a past that’s rooted in pain

I rise

I’m a black ocean, leaping and wide,

Welling and swelling I bear in the tide.

Leaving behind nights of terror and fear

I rise

Into a daybreak that’s wondrously clear

I rise

Bringing the gifts that my ancestors gave,

I am the dream and the hope of the slave.

I rise, I rise, I rise.

The post JANUARY-FEBRUARY: NEW YEAR, NEW HOPE appeared first on Pixidis Perfumes.

In a way, those holidays distract us from the fact that days are getting shorter and the weather increasingly inclement. As summer seem to extend further and further into autumn though, when the weather does finally turn cold, it is often a welcomed opportunity to wear a soft cardigan, drink some hot cocoa and put a blanket on at night. A chill in the air is generally what is required to wear heavier scents that act as an olfactive comforter and conjure up cups of spiced mulled wine, sweet indulgences and an idealized cosy night by the fireplace.

These olfactive and culinary associations are based on scent memories that influence our selection of perfumes, whether consciously or not. My personal history brings me back to my time in Belgium as a teenager when in November, boy scouts used to knock on doors selling marzipan sweets, with their distinctive sweet almond paste flavour, to collect funds for their summer camps. Or to my afterschool snack of speculoos cookies dipped in milk, with their mix of warm spices, such as cinnamon and cloves, and candied brown sugar. They were close in flavour to gingerbread cookies, but with a much stronger cinnamon than ginger taste and a distinctive caramel note, offering a more soothing than zingy experience. The emotions associated with those memories translate into how I feel when wearing scents that feature predominantly those notes, how comforting they feel, how they immediately take me back to a moment of pleasure and joy. Such is the magic of perfume.

In this edition, I decided to focus on cinnamon predominant fragrances but I recognize that this is as arbitrary a selection as any: others may have a completely different scent association with this season or alternative scent memories associated with cinnamon and ambery spicy notes.

CINNAMON (Cinnamomum verum)

Originally from Ceylon (nowadays Sri Lanka) and indigenous to both that island and India, cinnamon is still currently cultivated there as well as in the Seychelles and Madagascar, and has been widely used for millennia in food preparation as well as perfumery. The bark of the cinnamon is harvested, and once cut into “chips” that are ground and can be used as a spice or distilled into an essential oil. Interestingly, it is not just the flavour of cinnamon that explains its use in food preparation but also its antifungal properties that inhibit the growth of bacteria on meat, thus serving as a preservative since ancient times.

Warm, spicy, gourmand, powdery, sweet, it immediately calls to mind the atmosphere of Christmas with its spicy baked goods, mulled wine and all its warmth and familiarity. How did it come be representative, along with nutmeg, cloves and ginger, of the festive season in Europe and much of the West?

Although already known in Ancient Rome (as well as Egypt) and used burnt like incense along with other spices and resins on festive occasions or in the private houses of wealthy Romans, it is during the late middle-ages and Renaissance period that these spices really penetrated the European market via the opening of the spice route. From the 16th century onwards, with the “discovery” of Ceylon by the Portuguese, first, then the Dutch, English and French, who exported the spice to Europe via the various merchant companies.

Because of the high cost of the spice and its rarity, cinnamon as well as other spices, were reserved mostly for the wealthy and royalty. Since Christmas was a time of great feasting, many spices including cinnamon became synonymous with that time of year with traditional seasonal dishes and drinks being centered around their aroma.

Classified in perfumery as a warm spice (“persistent in the mouth” as described by legendary perfumer Jean Caude Ellena, commenting on the perception of warm spices versus cold ones), the components that have the greatest impact on its olfactive profile are cinnamic aldehyde and eugenol (a molecule it shares with cloves, which is actually frequently used in conjunction with cinnamon in perfume creations).

Its long use in perfumery is attested, if nothing else, by being a key component of Kyphi, the perfume of Ancient Egypt, which is currently the oldest perfume formula still in our possession, (and that one can still discover and smell, if one cares to visit the perfume conservatory in Versailles, the Osmothèque…).

Given our cultural association, at least in the West, of cinnamon with Christmas, I wanted to highlight a few very different takes on the use of the spice which, although versatile, is rarely the star element of a scent. The broad categories under which I have classified the perfumes are: spicy (meaning the spice note dominate), woody, ambery.

The one for those who need a fresh take

– Spicy: Eau d’Hermès

Created in 1951, by genius perfumer Edmond Roudnitska, this perfectly balanced creation is a monument to elegance. Personally I find a cologne with a warm spice aspect rather unusual due to the juxtaposition of both fresh and warm notes (looking back in time though, this wasn’t an entirely novel idea, as spice-scented eau de toilette such as l’eau d’ange featuring benzoin, coriander, clove, styrax, calamus and lemon were apparently quite in vogue during the Renaissance, so there you go: “plus ça change…” ).

Cinnamon tends to lend heft and sensuality to a scent, but in this case, the cologne-citrus structure of the perfume manages to keep the composition airy. The spices unfold after the first blast of citrus and aromatic notes have made their sparkling entrance. Immediately, the powdery cinnamon provides warmth and sensuality to the scent while coriander and cardamom, its “cooler” sisters, continue to act as a vertical lift to the composition. An addition of cumin, often perceived as body odor at first, is here perfectly judged and lends a slightly dirty lived-in aspect to the scent, which then transitions into an unexpected leather accord. In a nutshell, starting as a cologne, this ends up being a sexy, spicy, well-loved luxurious leather bag fragrance. There are obviously other colognes, there are many leather fragrances, as well as spice forward scents, but it’s the seamless melding of styles in this unique composition that is so unusual and beautiful.

Some might call this an old-fashioned fragrance (old-lady-like or, rather, old-gentleman-like , as this clearly leans more towards a masculine scent in my mind) and it is certainly miles away from any modern trend. But in my books, this is such a classically beautiful scent that to change an iota to this composition would be sacrilege. (Needless to say, L’eau d’Hermès has been reformulated many times since its creation, if only for regulatory reasons).

The one for those who need a cuddle

– Woody: Bois des isles (Chanel)

The woody direction is an obvious route to take for a cinnamon scent, as this spice’s essential oil is extracted from the ground bark of the cinnamon tree, so a woody element is part and parcel of this spice’s olfactive profile. As a prime example of this category, and possibly the oldest scent still in production featuring cinnamon, is the beautiful Bois des Isles by Chanel, two years shy of its centenary. It’s the “peanut butter and jelly” of combos, mixing warm spicy cinnamon and milky sandalwood, a pairing made in heaven.

To my nose, it is predominantly a sandalwood scent although according to industry lore there is not a single drop of Mysore sandalwood in the formula (even in older formulations, although Mysore sandalwood at this stage and for conservation reasons, is in any case not used in commercial perfumery). Be that as it may, and we will never know for sure, it still ranks as one of the finest renditions of the creamy sandalwood note, made sweeter and powderier by both the inclusion of cinnamon and an iris accord.

It of course bears a resemblance to another Chanel scent, Egoist, also a cinnamon/sandalwood combo, and, in a minor way, to Samsara by Guerlain (although the latter does not contain cinnamon). As Bois des Isles predates both scents, it would be fairer to say that they bear a resemblance to it, with Egoiste borrowing from its predecessor the cinnamon and sandalwood accord combined with the fruity peach note, and modernizing it.

It is a supremely comforting scent. A warm plush pashmina shawl that provides protection from the winter chill, a woody sweet lactonic hug mixed with the delicate fuzziness of a peach’s skin, the comforting creaminess of tropical flowers like Ylang whispering of distant and lush landscapes. In a nutshell, an elegant expensive scent that one imagines moneyed people would have worn in 1920/30s. This is also probably perceived by modern audiences as a bit of a vintage scent but it remains in my view the original sandalwood and cinnamon scent. For a “relatively” more modern take, as it was created more than 40 years ago, try Egoist.

The one for the gourmand lovers

– Ambery (with a musky and fruity facet): Ambre Narguilé by Hermès

Another Hermès scent, this one firmly a 21th century creation, that is as fruity as it is ambery in my view, (although no fruit notes are listed), and immediately evokes the sweet smell of a spicy apple pie and notes that are clearly in line with the seasonal scents we associated Christmas. Meant to be the evocation of scented tobacco used when smoking hookah (i.e. water pipes meant for vaporizing and then smoking flavored tobacco) to my nose, the first impression is unmistakably that of baked apples sprinkled with brown sugar and cinnamon.

This apple impression, initially juicy and yellow, slowly, to my nose, lets a curious “overly ripe” note emerge which might be amplified by the cinnamon, which lends warmth and sweetness to the composition and is supported by the balsamic and powdery notes of labdanum and tonka. The scent is fairly linear and has relatively low projection, and its ambery sweetness continues throughout its development. The elegant honey tobacco aspect, not immediately apparent, truly blooms in the mid development stages of the fragrance and manages to keep the scent from being a purely savoury experience, bringing back the fragrance to the concept behind its name.

My personal problem, and this is where the subjective part of scent experience and association is so hard, is that it also reminds me to some extent of cheap candles, Christmas flavoured teas and other such products that have hijacked the apple/cinnamon concept and used it in a myriad of ways in products around the festive season (pot pourri, diffusers, you name it ). It’s a personal association and in no way a critique of the brilliance of the composition but I’ve smelled it before, albeit less beautifully done. It has nothing to do with Ellena’s skill but more to do with how some accords and raw materials have been sort of “hijacked” by negative associations such as for example lavender with cleaning products, lemon with dish washer liquid, lilac with air freshners, etc..

In any case, it’s beautifully “of the season” so try it for yourself if sweet apple and cinnamon on a honeyed tobacco base appeals to you. This could be Christmas in a bottle.

The one for those who like fig scents…

– Spicy Fruity: Féminité du Bois by Serge Lutens

Ok, first of all, it smells nothing like a fig scent but I say that because there is something in the cedary dryness of this fragrance, associated with fruity plum notes, that bring back the milky wood/fruit accord of a lot of fig fragrances.

Built around Atlas cedar, spices and fruity notes and meant as an ode to Lutens’ love of Morocco, home to said tree and to colourful spice markets, Feminité du Bois (FDB) was ground breaking at the time of its release when woody perfumes were not generally marketed towards women. But if you recall, Bois de Isles (BDI) also had woods, fruit and spices in its composition, although producing an entirely different scent. I would say FDB is much fruiter, with the inclusion of a prune note alongside the peach, and also much spicier and drier than BDI.

No one talks about it and I’m not sure how successful the scent was but I still find it a completely modern scent, easy to wear, sweet without being overly so, sufficiently woody to appeal to men (if you care about those kinds of distinctions), invitingly fruity and jammy without falling into the fruit salad trap, musky and comforting when you need a refuge from the world. And who doesn’t nowadays.

The one for the independently minded

– Spicy Resinous: Eau Lente by Diptyque

Created in 1986 by Serge Kalouguine, a perfumer who is rarely mentioned and is responsible, along with one of the brand’s founders, Desmond Knox-Leet, for the older, more unusual and out-there scents of Diptyque, such as this one and l’Eau Trois (the odd and majestic terpenic myrrh bomb), as well as the commercially very successful l’Ombre dans l’eau.

L’Eau Lente claims to draw its inspiration from the lands of Alexander the Great ( I assume they mean ancient Greece, so let’s avoid an online debate about Macedonia here…) Personally, being generally a proponent of bitter scents and adverse to anything too sweet (you can imagine how a trip to Sephora or the Duty free perfume aisle makes me feel), I can’t help being intrigued by l’Eau Lente. I think the idea is to transport you to a time when, as mentioned earlier, cinnamon, spices and other resins were burnt as both religious rituals and a way for the ultra privileged to show off wealth and status. Personally, the evocative element of a perfume is very important and there is no denying that this scent does not entirely feel of this world.

I can image it both as perfume burnt in marble halls on the eve of battles, as the brand indicates, as well as a pomader (i.e. perforated ball-shaped container of aromatic substances, placed on a chain and worn as a scented jewel) worn during medieval times to ward off evil and disease. Unapologetically potent, resinous and spicy. Mystical holder of secrets, it whispers of realities beyond the realm of men. This is the scent of shape shifters and philosophers.

The opening is clearly a clove/eugenol bomb (as mentioned, eugenol is the main component of clove and also an important crucial element in cinnamon’s scent profile) that leans into the eucalyptus slightly mint-like aspect of clove. Following this first opening salvo, the bitterness is tempered by the powdery sweetness of cinnamon boosted by an amber accord of, I would guess, labdanum, Peru balsam and vanillin. The Oppoponax in the base brings the smoky vibe of the scent into focus. On the whole, although there are sweet resinous elements, I think this perfume showcases a different aspect of warm spices, less obviously foody and comforting and more mystical and powerful.

It’s not for everyone and certainly not a blind buy, but if you curious about another take on this spice far from cinnamon buns and do not insist on smelling like dessert, it’s worth a try..

Conclusion

There are clearly many more scent categories that have a spicy facet and have used cinnamon (in the amber family there is obviously Opium by YSL and in the floral/amber category Dior’s Poison comes to mind for instance…) I can’t list them all. I just wanted to offer a selection of very different perfumes that showcase cinnamon in an original way.

For further reading on the matter, I recommend the excellent magazine supplement done by NEZ Magazine and LMR on Cinnamon.

Finally I will leave you with a poem, which I will include at the end of each of my seasonal selection. Written during the American Civil war, it is as relevant as ever.

Happy holidays everyone, please feel free to send me the names of some of your own favourite cinnamon fragrances, I’m always excited to get good recommendations.

Christmas Bells (Henry Wadsworth Longfellow)

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