Review: Jacques Fath Bel Ambre — 4.0 points

Bel Ambre (Jacques Fath, 2015) is literally ‘beautiful amber’. As the name might already suggest, the bulk of the composition rests on a classical blend of vanilla and labdanum, which is called ‘amber’ for its rich, golden brown hue resembling the precious tree resin. One could be forgiven, therefore, for thinking that the name betrays yet another classical sweet amber perfume, but this is not case. This is because Bel Ambre certainly has a few beautiful surprises up its sleeves.

belambre

Of course, the main impression is traditional. The beloved warmth of this perfumery accord indeed already makes itself evident in the top notes. Juniper berry, which is often used to flavour liquor, imparts a boozy note to the bright citrus and savoury herbs. Cumin lends its complementary spicy note. The sum is like the warmth of a strong liquor coursing through your veins.

But the surprise that soon sets in comes as a chill. Buttery iris note creates an interesting cool contrast to the warm amber composition, and along with an animalic overtone of castoreum and smoky leather, they meld into a soft leathery note. It develops in the dry, smoky side, which will suit those who prefer their amber a little less opulent.

The pleasing amber accord reveals itself fully towards the dry down. The powdery sweetness of vanilla, tonka bean, and musk creates a cosy, ever-so comforting cushion. The balsamic note of labdanum imbues the composition with much warmth here. And in the background, a vetiver note offsets the sweetness nicely with a bit of a woody touch.

Bel Ambre is a gentle take on classical amber with a twist. For me, the overall warmth recalls that of Ambre Sultan (Serge Lutens, 2000), but it is quieter in terms of volume and slightly sweeter. Of course, there is also the soft leathery and animalic tinge. Its lasting power is great enough to be enjoyed throughout the day. If you are looking for a taste of classical amber but with a chic twist, this is it. And, I am sure that fans of classical amber will hardly find fault with such a beautiful amber, and that applies to me as well. Even when I constantly look for novelty in compositions, a familiar accord that is well-executed such as this one has already won half of the battle for my affection.

Source: spirale-rp.fr

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Review: Tom Ford Vert d’Encens — 5.0 points

I admit that I am rather jaded of exclusive lines. Nowadays, every brand seems to have this so-called ‘special offerings’. They come in similarly packaged flacons and tend to arrive in sets of a few fragrances, much like variations on a theme. There are simply too many of them to catch up, and too often, they are outrageously priced. A prime example would be the Private Blend of Tom Ford, whose entire range I tend to simply skip  altogether.

But with Vert d’Encens (Tom Ford, 2016), it was such a momentous discovery. Truth be told, I had imagined it to be yet another banal interpretation of the Corsican coast, as the accompanying description would have me believe. Little did I know when picking up Vert d’Encens for a quick sniff that I would end up discovering a hidden gem in the sea of launches.

tom ford

What makes Vert d’Encens memorable is its fierce duel of green and incense. However, to describe it as such would be simplistic. The notes that revolve around this juxtaposition of cool green and warm incense are orchestrated in layers, creating a complex and almost baroque sensation. Take a look at the first stage: it is never plain green, but it morphs instead from bright chartreuse to deep green at heart. Citrusy shades of lemon and bergamot segue into cool Provençal herbs of lavender and sage before arriving at the intense bitterness of galbanum. And, only then does the glorious battle commence.

Swirls of resinous incense begin to exude and pulsate throughout the development. So, the next stage, as you might have guessed, is a warm oriental bed of sweet vanilla, benzoin, and heliotrope. It is a familiar chord, but when accented with cardamom and pine needles that echo the green stage, the result is surprisingly original. The dry down is also smouldering, with sober incense slicing through cosy vanilla and heliotrope. In the end, the oriental sweetness is offset nicely by the dry woody notes of vetiver.

The idea of green versus oriental in Vert d’Encens alone is sufficient to grab attention, but it is in the elaborate arrangement of its components that it truly spurs my passion. It makes me want to discover the filigree and ornate columns of its green and incense cores. That being said, it will appeal to those who like strong contrasts and ornate arrangements. If you, for instance, like the galbanum and animalic-leathery oriental of Must de Cartier (1981), chances are you might adore Vert d’Encens. It defers to some of the by-gone notes of perfumery — the galbanum, the dark oriental — and does so without being contrived. You can enjoy the fiercely green galbanum and sober incense easily for a whole day and without having to smother passers-by. You can appreciate the dramatic interplay and discover also how beautifully the battle unfolds.

Source: tomford.com

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.

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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: Liquides Imaginaires Succus — 4.0 points

Despite what its Latin name might imply, Succus (Liquides Imaginaires, 2015) by perfumer Shyamala Maisondieu does not readily recall any kind of sap. The eclectic layers of fruity, herbal, and woody notes are far removed from the bitter green note typical of tree saps. Rather, they lend themselves to an arboreal fantasy, and I find myself wishing if only such a tree existed…

moodscentbar

What first strikes me is its fruity grapefruit note. It does recall grapefruit, but is not so much as citrusy, and has the sweet accent of pineapple. Its fruity top has a distinctive tone that intrigues me and that continues towards the dry down. And even if you, like me, are not so enthusiastic about fruity notes, you should still give Succus a try simply to see its interesting direction.

But unlike other perfumes that resort to hard sell with their top-note whirlwinds and end up being anti-climactic, the excitement of Succus continues. The next layer is a blend of rustic herb notes: rosemary, juniper berry, cedar leaf, and bay leaf. These are also interspersed with incense. The bright, camphoraceous character recalls that of Saltus (Liquides Imaginaries, 2015), another in the Eaux Arborantes series, but is not nearly as glaring. This layer of herbs creates a curious twist to the fruity grapefruit, and the pairing between these notes gives Succus a unique and enjoyable character that I cannot quite find a comparison.

But as the bright note of herbs dims, the composition reveals a luminous base of dry woods and radiant musk. Its vetiver harmonises with the accent of grapefruit and the cedarwood lends its distinctive note of wood shavings. The musk note here is rich, but also remains in keeping with the pleasant dryness. This dry woody and musky layer persists well on skin.

The idea of Succus revolves around a pleasant duel between grapefruit and herbs, but the composition also seemingly peels away from fruity and aromatic to woody layers. It certainly gives an interesting arboreal portrait, but more importantly this peculiar character is what keeps me coming back to it. A perfume that keeps one pondering is, I feel, a perfume worthy of exploration. Succus is one such composition that arouses curiosity; it leaves me wondering what that mythical tree would be. We surely need more compositions like this.

Source: moodscentbar.com

Review: By Kilian Moonlight in Heaven — 4.0 points

Now is the hottest time of year in Thailand, but I am still forgiving of its scorching 38°C because this is the time when mangoes become ripe and I can enjoy the fine treat of mango sticky rice or Khao Niao Mamuang. The comforting dessert pairs juicy mango with creamy glutinous rice and coconut milk, and Moonlight in Heaven (By Kilian, 2016) evidently takes up this vibrant contrast.

terence ong

‘Khao Niao Mamuang’ — mango sticky rice

The tropical air of mango is suggested by a tart note of blackcurrant. Peppery and lemony notes lend their bright clarity to it, whilst a creamy nuance of fig softens its tang. A vivid green contrast recalling the green ivy of J’adore (Dior, 1999) tames the fruity sweetness. Perfumer Calice Becker is the creator behind both J’adore and Moonlight in Heaven, and her finesse is reflected in their fruity accords, which seem to possess the supernatural perfection of a Dutch still life.

Soon, the powdery sweet accord of glutinous rice dominates, rounded by floral hints of jasmine and orange blossom. A creamy note suggests the rich flavour of coconut milk, much like the sensuality of a moon-lit woman in the photograph by Patrick Demarchelier that also inspired the composition. The floral and milky rice powder juxtaposed with a tart mango is the lively tropical idea of the composition until the dry down, in which the sweet tonka bean of coumarin and the woody nuts of vetiver complement the idea.

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The contrast between sour fruit and powdery sweetness gives it a vibrant character. The mastery with which its radiant fruity accord is woven alone is worth exploring, and its toasty sweetness is just as refined. I especially like the way its tart cassis courses through to the dry down of sweet powder. And unlike most sweet fruity bombs, Moonlight in Heaven is composed. Yet, it is tenacious enough for the hottest days of Bangkok, during which I have been wearing it. Moonlight in Heaven proves that a dessert-inspired, fruity perfume does not have to be another boring tutti-frutti: it can be just as evocative.

Sources: bykilian.com, wikimedia commons by Terence Ong

Review: Hermès Épice Marine — 3.5 points

Épice Marine (Hermès, 2013) was conceived as a result of the dialogue between perfumer Jean-Claude Ellena and chef Olivier Roellinger. They first met in 2011 in Cancale, the hometown of the Breton chef, and collaborated for eight months. Ellena took inspirations from the spices that arrived in Cancale, and he was also particularly enamoured of the roasted cumin. Meanwhile, Roellinger insisted on l’odeur du brouillard — odour of the mist — in the composition. These would come to shape the character of Èpice Marine.

epice

The fresh misty ocean comes through in the form of bergamot, bitter orange, and a marine accord. Then, the spices arrive with the punch of sweaty cumin, the sweet accent of cinnamon, and the characteristic cardamom. That the cumin is roasted is conveyed by a touch of sesame. There is also a hint of aged whiskey, as if to suggest the long sea-bound journey. The theme of mild spices and marine notes form the character of Épice Marine, and it remains until the dry down, which is accented with a touch of vetiver.

The juxtaposition of aquatic notes and spices is executed with polish, but the idea itself feels a little too familiar. It is not that far from his earlier brainchilds like Déclaration (Cartier, 1998) or Un Jardin après la Mousson (Hermès, 2003). And, however much I enjoy Épice Marine, I cannot help but think that I could simply layer Déclaration, Un Jardin après la Mousson, and perhaps Cologne Bigarade (Frédéric Malle, 2001) for the same effect, or rather better with more projection and tenacity.

Therefore, one should not expect to find the unexpected in Épice Marine. But if one is in search of a well-executed composition with curious accents, this will not disappoint. It is a nicely done variation on the theme of soft spices.

Sources: hermes.fr

Review: Chanel Sycomore — 5.0 points

I have few vetiver perfumes that I love and admire. These are Vétiver (Guerlain, 1959), which is an all-time classic, and Encre Noire (Lalique, 2006), which I have come to think of as a modern classic. But, they are not the vetiver that I mostly reach for. That honour goes to Sycomore (Chanel, 2007).

chanel

Sycomore is likely named after Sycamore (Chanel, 1930), an aldehydic floral created by perfumer Ernest Beaux. However, Sycomore was composed by perfumers Jacques Polge and Christopher Sheldrake, and it features vetiver as the main woody note.

But, just as important are the layers of accents that shape the vetiver. From the bright green pines in the opening to the smoky and roasted notes, the vetiver is so skilfully embellished that the composition feels like an abstraction that blooms and glows on skin. I find its subtle character of green pines, smoky notes, and soft woods sublime. And it stays smoky and roasted for a long time

Sycomore is just as elegant as it is versatile. The vetiver is carefully chiselled, and nothing is overdone that would compromise its subtleties. Wearing it, I feel as though I dressed myself up, but remain comfortable. For this reason, it acquires a special place even amongst my favourite vetivers and wins hands down when it comes to the frequency of use.

Source: chanel.fr