Review: Álvarez Gómez Agua de Colonia Concentrada — 4.0 points

The weather here has been unkind as of late, with frequent rains and chilly draughts, but I am determined to douse myself in my favourite eaux de cologne. After all, it is still summer, and the cheerful tone of citrus never fails to brighten the greyest of days. This time I pick a Spanish wardrobe staple, so to speak.

Agua de Colonia Concentrada, literally ‘concentrated eau de cologne’, was first produced by Álvarez Gómez in 1912, and it has since been a household name in Spain. It comes in a vintage-looking flacon with an easily recognisable yellow plastic cap and label. This iconic canary is perhaps a clue to the exuberance of the juice.

parcoparfumerias.png

And rightly so. Its debut is a huge burst of lemon, and this is exactly the sunny disposition I look for. Still, it can also be a little sharp, and if you have used lemon-scented household products, you might not appreciate that. As the effervescence of lemon subsides, agrestic herbs continue to underpin its bright character. There is a camphoraceous side that recalls lavander and rosemary as well as an anisic accent throughout that reminds me of basil. The impression is simply zesty and aromatic. Agua de Colonia Concentrada is all about scintillating lemons and bright herbs.

Of course, there are many more elaborate or novel eaux de cologne, from the baroque Eau de Cologne Impériale (Guerlain, 1853) to the modern bitterness of Eau de Gentiane Blanche (Hermès, 2009), but I sometimes crave for something as simple as vats of lemons and herbs. The lack of sweet florals and opaque musks in Agua de Colonia Concentrada also means that it is never cloying. The brew is one of bright rustic charm, and such simplicity is its winning quality.

And, the carrot of such an affordably priced concoction — at 9.00€ for 80 ml – will surely give you the perfect juice with which to douse yourself. It lasts reasonably well enough as an eau de cologne intended to refresh. Simply put, it is one of those old-school classics. It suits just about any occasion, season, and time of day. Just spritz away!

source: parcoparfumerias.com

Advertisements

Review: Jacques Fath Green Water — 4.0 points

Eau de cologne is a family of fragrances which are very widespread and well-known so much so that we know this summer staple by heart. From cool citrus and herbs to warm woody, ambery note — you know how it unfolds and what to expect. Its seems that nothing more could be done to improve upon this universally beloved harmony.

But when that happens, it offers a pleasant surprise. Such is the case with Green Water (2015), which was re-launched along with the revival of Jacques Fath brand. Reportedly, perfumer Cécile Zarokian set about bringing back the spirit of Green Water by frequently visiting the perfume archive Osmothèque to smell the original 1946 formula of perfumer Vincent Roubert. As she could not bring back a sample for analysis, she worked closely with perfumer and founder of Osmothèque, Jean Kerléo, who also happened to be privy to the formula. Whether the result is close to the original, I cannot say simply because I have not smelled the original. But, I can surely say that the re-launched composition makes me re-think the possibilities eaux de cologne have to offer.

green water.jpg

That Green Water is an eau de cologne is no doubt, but it is in the special accent and restraint that set this eau de cologne apart from its brethren. The first spritz is of fresh citrus and neroli, and these hesperidic notes are accompanied by a lot of sweet mint and its coolness. This gives Green Water a unique refreshing effect. Next is a subdued orange blossom that lends a subtle but persistent floral touch. And, typical of classical eaux de cologne, a sprinkle of herbs and spices, such as basil, tarragon, and a cuminic note, imparts an agrestic accent. Everything is rendered with such softness and balance it feels elegant.

The cool citrus and herbs are classically paired with the warm rough-hewn notes. A grapefruit-like vetiver note reciprocates the citrusy idea of Green Water and remains until the dry down. It is complimented by mossy and ambery notes that gives a nostalgic vibe of an old-school eau de cologne.

All of this elegant transformation happens subtly and close to skin. That being said, the only complaint I have against Green Water is its extremely fleeting and quiet nature. I have at most an hour of wear before the show is over. But while it lasts, I revel in its layered complexity and subtleties, from the refined citrus, mint, neroli, and herbs to the warm mossy vetiver. I imagine old-fashioned glamour rendered with a soft touch. Now, a copious splash from the 200-millilitre flacon might just be the volume one needs.

Source: spirale-rp.fr

 

Review: Hermès Un Jardin sur le Toit — 3.5 points

The way I see it, perfumer Jean-Claude Ellena is a master illusionist. He knows full well how to weave two ingredients together and seemingly conjure a third. For example, he would weave orange oil and the zesty, fruity, green Rhubofix to create the illusion of a grapefruit; or, he would combine the exotic fruits of Fructone and the caramel of ethyl maltol to create a strawberry. That way, he could render the theme of interest in a manner that seems to morph and change constantly much like the Impressionistic works of Pierre-Auguste Renoir or Claude Monet.

walcoo

Monet Painting in His Garden at Argenteuil by Pierre-Auguste Renoir

Such signature applies to Un Jardin sur le Toit (Hermès, 2011). Here, Ellena paints the rooftop garden of Hermès. Beginning with the aromatic and almost minty green of basil, it gives the impression that one has just stepped outside into the garden and caught a whiff of the aromatic bushes. The fruity, caramelic suggestion woven into the green note conjures, then, apples or pears that provide much of the canopy. Soon, there is also the floral touch done in light shades of magnolias and tea roses.

hermes.jpg

The depiction of its changing qualities is rendered by means of morphing accents of green herbs to fruits and light flowers. Yet, the essence of the garden, the large fruit trees of green apples and pears, remains. It lasts around four hours on me, which is reasonably long enough for its wispy nature. And it sits quietly.

For sure, Un Jardin sur le Toit is a well-executed composition. It is composed, and its aromatic accent tames the sweetness — that is a nice change. But if you are easily jaded by apples and pears, you might want to look in other pastures for something more daring. Otherwise, it is an easily likeable composition with understated and jovial quality. I see nothing wrong with its lovely apples and pears. After all, in the words of Renoir, ‘Why should art not be pretty? There are enough unpleasant things in the world’.

Sources: hermes.com, walcoo.net

Review: Grès Cabochard — 5.0 points

Inspired by the ferocious whip of Bandit (Robert Piguet, 1944), perfumer Bernard Chant took to the leathery character and created Cabochard (Grès, 1959). The leather accord was softened and balanced with verdancy and florals. Cabochard itself would become a legacy amongst the family of leather chypres and inspire a number of perfumery’s classics such as Aramis (1965) and Chanel N°19 (1970).

fragrantica

From the start, the green combination of galbanum, armoise, and basil contrasts nicely with the earthy character. Styrallyl acetate in combination with aldehyde C-11 (undecylenic aldehyde) contribute to the green floral aspect. To complement the green, there is the freshness of mandarin and bergamot with linalool and linalyl acetate. The opening is certainly reminiscent of another era: bitter green with sharp freshness. It is bright and sparkling.

The composition reveals the floral heart as expected of a classical chypre. It is dominated by a bright jasmine accord different from those of Ma Griffe (Carven, 1946) or Miss Dior (1947), a fresh rose note, and hyacinth. Its radiance is imparted by a muguet note. Also, the relatively high content of sandalwood compared to other chypres provides the apparent softness to Cabochard. Such pairing of the jasmine accord and sandalwood would later be found in the masculine leather chypre territory of Aramis.

Then, glimpses of leather appear. Along with isobutyl quinoline, balsamic benzoin, a castoreum note, and a costus note give Cabochard its leather character. Interestingly, there is a similarity between Cabochard and Aramis in their use of isobutyl quinoline with the floral-powdery musk ambrette, which is now banned due to safety concerns.

The warmth of its chypre accord is built around patchouli, oakmoss, animalic notes, woody notes of vetiveryl acetate and cedryl acetate, and the amber note of Dynamone, which is a base derived from cistus. The accord is sweetened by methyl ionone. The use of aldehyde C-18 (γ-nonalactone) to lend a soft creamy touch emulates the use of peachy aldehyde C-14 (γ-undecalactone) in earlier chypres like that of Mitsouko (Guerlain, 1919). Spicy notes of cinnamon, clove, and a carnation accord provide a bright contrast to the dusky leathery character. The vegetal musk character of ambrettolide finally echoes the verdant top.

Cabochard is one of the few surviving leather chypre amongst feminine fragrances. Thanks to the brilliance of perfumer Bernard Chant, he extrapolated the iconic leather of Bandit. He softened the leather and gave it verdant florals. The interesting use of materials also gave Cabochard its creative twist and character. It stands on its own as another classic in the family. Although the reformulations may have rendered Cabochard more docile now, but one can still see a glimpse of its complex transformation.

Sources: fragrancex.com, Perfumery Practices and Principles