Outlaw Perfume: Daphne by Lord's Jester

*If you're new to the Outlaw Perfume Project, please read this first*

The first time I've smelled Daphne, the Outlaw creation of natural perfumer Adam Gottschalk of Lord's Jester, the lights dimmed and the room darkened. The intensity of this scent stunned me and for a brief second I wasn't sure if it was a good thing or not. But it is good. Most definitely.

Daphne, the perfume, was inspired by the story of Apollo and the nymph Daphne, but the first image my mind conjured was an old illustration  for Brothers Grimm fairy tales. Here was the Black Forest of centuries ago, looming and menacing, full of unspeakable evil and nameless creatures. Winnie the Pooh doesn't live here, for sure.

But this fairy tale by Lord's Jester has a happy ending. As the scent develops on skin it softens, opens up and sweetens considerably. The heavy branches move let some light in and you can see the velvet mossy forest floor under your feet. Soon enough Prince Charming will see the walls of the castle's gardens and smell the roses that grew wild and entangled for 100 years. And there inside there is a beautiful princess waiting, asleep, in all her sweetness. Daphne becomes honeyed and smooth, a rich oriental chypre that is a joy to wear.

Daphne by Lord's Jester Perfumes ($65, 10ml EDT) is available from lordjesters.com. The sample for this review was provided by the perfumer.

Art: Illustration for The Sleeping Beauty by Gustave Dore, 1867

Parfum d'Empire- Wazamba

Saying "Wazamba" is almost as fun as wearing this 2009 Parfum d'Empire creation. Almost. It was a love at first sniff for both the husband and me, probably because as The Blond has put it: "Wazamba is as good as something Uncle Serge could make, but he would have killed it with cumin". It's true, really. Thankfully, Parfum d'Empire already  got the cumin out of their system in Aziyade (I sort of like it in theory, just don't want to wear it. Never ever, not in a million years).

One could sum up Wazamba as a dark fruity incense, but then one would be oversimplifying a complex and very interesting perfume.Wazamba takes you on a journey to a faraway place, be it West Africa as Parfum d'Empire states as the inspiration for this scent or anywhere else where your mind wanders when wearing a woody sweet incense and myrrh. For me, Wazamba moves in circles- the warm and cool notes morph into one another, fade and reappear throughout the day (and night. The lasting power of this one is "until you shower or beyond). The sweetness comes from several sources- the incense itself smells resinous and dripping with honey at times, but there's also a dried fruit compote (probably why we're reminded of a Lutens/Sheldrake composition. Think Arabie without the dirty souk or Bois et Fruits with far less"bois" and a healthy shot of incense).

The complexity is achieved by an almost green fir balsam note that interjects itself just when you think the incense is about to burn itself into ashy embers. It's sweet(ish) and cool, a little piny with a young conifer or two thrown in for good measure. The result is delightful and perfect for this weather. Highly recommended for incense fans.

 Wazamba (had to say the name one more time) and the rest of Parfum d'Empire line can be found at MiN New York, BeautyHabit and LuckyScent.

Photo: Urban West-African fashion by John Atherton, Dakar, Senegal, 1967

Parfum d'Empire- Osmanthus Interdite

I recently realized how much I love osmanthus as a summer perfume note. I adore it in Uncle Serge's Nuit de Cellophane, I skip the stairs two at a time wearing Ormonde Jayne Osmanthus and it looks like I might need a full bottle of Osmanthus Interdite by Parfum d'Empire because it has everything I love- from the tactile velvet of the honeyed apricot note to a very leathery musk dry-down.

An osmanthus flower doesn't look all that impressive. It grows in clusters of tiny white or yellow florets- cute but nothing more. I don't think I've come across a live osmanthus, so I can't comment on the way it smells other than in tea and in perfume. Harney & Sons (harney.com) have a wonderful Osmanthus Oolong tea that has a round and satisfying fruity aroma while still retaining the strength and richness of oolong. It's as far from a wimpy fruity non-tea as Osmanthus Interdite is from an apricot body spray.

Parfum d'Empire's collection was inspired by the empires of yore, some more questionable than others. While this is not my favorite theme (emperors are usually more Palpatine than the Childlike Empress), at least in the case of Osmanthus Interdite the Chinese connection is clear, even if it's China from a romantic westernized fantasy. A secret garden inside an imperial palace, flowers and fruit artfully engraved on vases and ornaments. It's very very pretty. I especially love how despite the very low sillage the perfume is warm and enveloping; the leather note is smooth and soft.

This Parfum d'Empire creation is very low-key compared to the more famous apricot and suede perfume Daim Blond (Lutens). The latter gets in your face and waves its iris note, making sure your nearest and dearest are aware of your superb taste in fragrance. Osmanthus Interdite is a lot more reserved which makes it easier to wear in summer. My only complaint is the lasting time- less than four hours is not my idea of perfection and the only reason I'm still living on samples and haven't succumbed to the allure of a full bottle (yet).

Osmanthus Interdite ($75, 50ml) is available from BeautyHabit.com. Luckyscent carries the 100ml bottles ($110) as does Aedes, though the price is inexplicably higher there ($130). Someone should clue the Aedes guys of this little issue.

Outlaw Perfume: Gypsy by Providence Perfume Co.

I remember now.

Perfume is an art. It creates pictures. It tells stories and stirs memories and emotions. Or, at least, it should.

Big corporations, focus groups, politics, marketing and mass marketing and most of all IFRA regulations have almost  taken it away from us and made us forget what it feels like to wear real perfume. But now, wearing Gypsy by perfumer Charna Ethier, I remember. And I don't want to let go.

Technically speaking, Gypsy is a dark amber with a touch of green fougere. If I were an abstract painter trying to capture Gypsy I'd paint my canvas black-based brown, maroon and brick red, let the colors bleed into each other and then incorporate some forest green veins. But Gypsy is only abstract if I let it be. It's a warm, breathing thing, human and personal and makes me think of the way other countries seemed to me as a child.

I go back to times before I had a clear map of the world in my head and was only discovering the wonder of foreign languages- people speaking in magical tones. My parents had guests from different corners of the world- long lost relatives and old friends coming from as far as South Africa and East Europe. They stayed up  late, drank mysterious and strong smelling liqueurs that had beautiful labels on their dark  bottles, wore strong perfumes and brought gifts that smelled of mystery.

Gypsy has all that and more. I consider it wearable by both men and women, though my husband's chemistry brings out something a little too sharp, while on me it's as soft and luxurious as I could have ever hoped. According to Charna Ethier "Most of the botanicals used in comprising Gypsy Eau de Parfum are posted on IFRA's list of banned/restricted ingredients".  The main notes are-

Top: galangal, lavender, lemon, petitgrain, and cardamom.

Heart: pink lotus absolute, Bulgarian lavender and green violet leaf.

Base: tonka, oakmoss, vetiver, patchouli, costus, and vanilla

But it's all about the blend- spicy, sensual, dark and sweet. It feels romantic and mysterious. It's incredibly long-lasting (easily more than 12 hours). A full bottle is now on my ever-growing wish list, a sentiment that seems to be shared by Ida from Ca Fleur Bon.

Parfum d'Empire- Ambre Russe

Ambre Russe by Parfum d'Empire is the kind of fragrance that can distract me form my perpetual angst over perfumes of yore, their reformulations and the raising price of vintage bottles. It has everything I love and nothing I don't, it's rich and strong in a way rarely smelled these days and is all about spice, leather and ambery goodness.

I'd suggest one avoids spraying Ambre Russe in the car, because there can be breathalyzer issues if stopped by police. But once the very boozy top notes run their course, this perfume actually smells imperial and I can see the Russian connection. From the slightly smoky black tea* to the touch of leather, churchy incense and lots and lots of sweet and spicy amber, as dark as old palace rooms.

Ambre Russe is sweet and has a nice dose of non-foody vanilla, but it never becomes cloying. It is perfectly unisex as long as one enjoys wearing other solemn and non-girly ambers (Josef Statkus, Ambre Sultan, Ambre Fetiche, Ambre Precieux or Ambre 114). This is a warm scent, almost smoldering, perfect for fall and winter (though I like it all year round). The fragrance has excellent sillage and tenacity, it draws people, husbands and pets to come closer and sniff. Most of them respond favorably.

Ambre Russe by Parfum d'Empire ($75, 50ml EDP) is available from luckyscent.

Art: Maria Feodorovona, Empress of Russia

*Still in this Russian tea mood, the lovely Jane of Daly Beauty just reviewed another favorite, Russian Caravan Tea by CB I Hate Perfume.

Frederic Malle- Le Parfum de Thérèse

Yes, I know everyone is waiting for reviews of the new Frederic Malle, Portrait Of A Lady, but until I get my hands and nose on that one let's talk about one of the greatest beauties of all times, a perfume that in many ways shaped the Frederic Malle Editions de Parfums line.

While Le Parfum de Thérèse was launched by Malle in 2000 it was conceived decades before as one of the most romantic perfumes of all times. Master perfumer Edmond Roudnitska created Therese for his wife- how awesome is that? (I'm still fantasizing about Le Parfum de Gaia, the most perfect amber to ever be created)  It's wonderfully clear Roudnitska has put all of his creativity and love into this one. He composed a perfume that feels as though it could have been the crown jewel of his classic Dior perfumes- the haute couture version, perhaps.

On paper or in theory, I never expected to love Le Parfum de Thérèse- fruit notes (plum and the dreaded melon), an aquatic accord, assorted flowers- mostly jasmine and rose and a wood/leather base underneath it all. It sounds like a recipe for a spectacular hot mess, but then again, so does Roudnitska's Diorella, which I love (in its original pre-reformulation form). In reality, the beauty of the composition reaches me from the very beginning. The fruit is a lot more plum than anything else and the melon is not really melony- it's about the impression of sweet ripeness along with every sexual connotation of which you may think. The fruit alone could have made the perfume heavy and cloying, and combining it with big flower notes is one risky move. But the rose is quiet and thin and the jasmine is among the most gorgeous of its kind. Indolic? Not on my skin, but it is fleshy and sensual. Now, what is referred as the aquatic accord is woven carefully into the silky fabric of Therese. I don't get any of the stomach turning notes that usually accompany such a thing (hello, Un Jardin Apres la Mousson). It's light and cool air more than water- there's movement somewhere in there, which balances the other notes and opens them up.

The beauty of the top and heart notes is built on an exquisite base- it feels like a chypre but a modern one in the sense it doesn't poke you in the ribs with an oakmoss-patchouli stick. Don't get me wrong: I love the grand chypres of yore and few things irk me as labeling anything with patchouli as a modern chypre. But here in Therese, a 1950s composition, I've found the true meaning of that term. It's smooth, rich and obviously leans heavily on classic perfumery traditions, but the way the fragrance moves, breaths and develops doesn't suggest "vintage" at all.

Le Parfum de Thérèse is a glorious summer day but also wears amazingly well with tailored coats and knee-high stiletto boots. This Malle/Roudnitska marvel is always right. It's a celebration of optimism and love, and in my mind would make a wonderful wedding perfume for any gender.

Le Parfum de Thérèse ($95 3x10ml travel refills) is available at Barneys and Frederic Malle Editions de Parfums boutiques around the world.

Parfum d'Empire- Fougère Bengal

Fougère Bengal should probably come with a warning label for people who hate immortelle. The opening is very thick and sweet. It packs some heat and spice that can take away all the air in the room if not applied judiciously, and the entire first encounter is dense, exotic and very very lush. This 2007 Parfum d'Empire creation can feel like two big perfumes mixed together: a herbal fougere and a spicy oriental battling each other for attention. And, boy, do they give a good fight!

Fougères are traditionally masculine compositions. Green leaves and lavender that can be quite astringent and cool and give that vibe many women would describe as "men's cologne". Fougère Bengal is far from being the first to pair these notes with a sweet tonka bean-vanilla base- Jicky is the most classic example, of course. Parfum d'empire took this a lot farther, though, and created something that might not always be the easiest thing to wear, but is absolutely worth trying.

Once the scary sillage dies down I can relax and enjoy the ride. I always say that a good perfume is one that takes you places, and this is one great journey. Parfum d'Empire is good at this- they took the fictional romantic version of Colonial India- think A Passage to India or Far Pavillions- and forge them into a perfume. Greenery, tobacco, hey and the endless sweetness that promises all the temptations of the East. It's a beautiful fantasy that lingers on the skin for long hours, no matter how political incorrect the story behind this empire might be.

Histoires de Parfums- Noir Patchouli

Noir Patchouli from Histoires de Parfums is somewhat of an enigma. Sometimes it feels like a femme fatale of a perfume, all black velvet, dimmed lights and a skirt with a slit up to there. However, at times the very dry base gets the upper hand with its gender ambiguity and a brisk attitude. And that's perfectly fine, too.

Noir Patchouli is a dark scent from its spicy opening to the very complex base. It's a little loud at first but then develops a quiet assertiveness- it will be noticed without poking anyone in the eye. The initial sillage calms down very quickly and one is left with a very personal and sensual veil of smoky wood. The use of patchouli in every stage feels very modern. It showcases the note among almost-sweet spices, dry woody notes and blended with musk, vetiver and leather in a more traditional setting (I cannot smell the promised oakmoss to save my life, but considering the restriction on the use of this ingredient it's not really surprising). The end results settles beautifully on skin without a hint of neither cheap headshops nor the often-found dirt and chocolate.

It took me a few wearings to realize how easy it would actually be for a man to wear this Histoires de Parfums creation. At first I was too focused on Noir Patchouli's tactile qualities- the softness and the way it smells when I stick my nose inside my own sweater. Of course it's feminine- it smells like me. But the dry and woody aspect, not to mention the smoky vetiver with a hint of leather would appeal to most men. They just have to love patchouli.

Outlaw Perfume- Mata Hari by Dawn Spencer Hurwitz

**For more about the Outlaw Perfume Project, please read this**

When you search the Life.com website for Mata Hari photos you will find them with the tagline "Dancer, Stripper, Spy". Historical evidence shows she wasn't much of a spy, at least not a real double agent, but Mata Hari still paid with her life. Her notoriety had probably had something to do with that. She was a legend in her life and became an even bigger one when Greta Garbo put on the exotic headdress and took on the famous role.

This was the inspiration for the Outlaw Perfume Mata Hari by Dawn Spencer Hurwitz. The perfume does justice not only to the complex and mysterious women- both the spy and the actress who immortalized her, but also to the time period (the turn of the 20th century) and to the genre. Mata Hari is a fruity animalic chypre, and it doesn't get any better than that. Like many of us, I'm somewhat familiar with vintage classics. I own a few, but most of my bottles are from the early days. I have often wondered what the very first bottles of Mitsouko (1919) and other perfumes from that time were like. It seems like Dawn Spencer Hurwitz has given us a very good idea.

There's a lengthy list of notes on DSH website and on her blog, but deconstructing Mata Hari wouldn't be doing it justice, because this perfume is all skin, emotion and sensuality. There's a bitter bergamot opening, an exotic full heart of spice and pulpy fruit and a dry-down that is all leather, oakmoss and a gorgeous musk. The fact this is 100% botanical perfume is a(nother) wonderful testimony to the perfumer's talent and skill. It also proves a certain point regarding natural perfumery. The sillage is modest but the staying power quite phenomenal. I can still smell it on my skin 10-12 hours after application, and believe me- I've been using it sparingly.

The bottom line is that Mata Hari is a rich, dark and sensual perfume. When you wear it, the last thing on your mind is eco-whatever and the crunchy granola image of natural products. This is a real perfume, evocative and sexy. It lingers on skin, warms up and envelopes you discreetly (trust me- you wouldn't want Mata Hari to announce your and her presence to the entire boardroom or teacher lounge), draws in the few deserving ones and leaves a delicious leather and peach aroma on your sweater and (his) pillow. It's eye-rolling/toe curling good. Between this lively creature and DSH's other recent brilliant creation, Cuir et Champignon (review coming very soon), I'm in very deep trouble.

Mata Hari is a (very) limited edition (which makes me want to cry). You can read more about Dawn's inspiration for the perfume and the creative process on her blog.  A 5ml flask bottle is $85 while the beautiful antique bottle presentation (15 ml) will set you back $225 (dshperfumes.com). A sample for this review was provided by the perfumer.

Outlaw Perfume- Belle Starr by Artemisia Perfumes

"Shed not for her the bitter tear
Nor give the heart to vain regret
'Tis but the casket that lies here
The gem that filled it sparkles yet"

Carved into the headstone of Belle Starr

The true story of Belle Starr, the Bandit Queen, has been mostly lost to time and creative interpretations. Relationships with every wrong man she has ever met, violence and a tragic end (Belle Starr was rumored to have been murdered by her own son)- not the stuff of which perfume legends are usually made. But we're talking Outlaw Perfumes here, so just like the other muses for this project, a strong and fearless woman who took lovers, toted guns and ran a crime organization (maybe) is strangely appropriate.

The story of Belle Starr by natural perfumer Lisa Fong of Artemisia Perfumes is centered around jasmine. Jasmine, as we all know, can stink to high heavens if it's too indolic, or go the other way and turn into a bathroom product if it's too synthetic and cleaned up. The success of this Artemisia creation is in the way Belle Starr retains the fleshy dirty aspects but turns them into a smooth honeyed liquid that melds into the wearer's skin the way only a herbal perfume can do.

When I first tested Belle Starr without looking at the notes I could have sworn it was all about honey- a more floral relative of Miel de Bois with a dirty earthy side. Sniffing my neck a few hours later, the husband also said "honey", though he found it a little too sweet for his taste. It's interesting how the complex and mulit-layered jasmine note goes in and out, mixes with the mushroomy earth, dances with flowers and wood and smells new and unexpected because of the thick roobios absolute used to ground it.

 I wish the longevity was better than the 6 hours I'm getting, then again it doesn't exactly go away. It leaves a trace on the body that is not really a perfume, just an elevated level of skin scent. That's a quality I often find in natural perfumes and makes me appreciate them even more.

Belle Starr is not your typical jasmine. It's not your typical anything, really, and it's not trying to be. It doesn't try too hard to be easy or pretty, but it's still very wearable and sensual- as long as one can take the heat.

This review of  Belle Starr EDP from Artemisia Perfumes is based on a sample that was sent by the perfumer.

Art: a mixed media collage of a Belle Starr scrapbook by Tristan Robin Blakeman (tristanrobinblakeman.com)

Perfume and State Of Our Union

I planned to post a review of Centaure, one of my favorite MPG masculines, but this post by Denyse on Grain de Musc resonated with me so much I had to add my own point of view. After all, I've been blogging for over four years, so the ennui and disenchantment with large parts of the beauty, fashion and perfume industries feels very familiar. I've said in the past that these are strange times for perfumery- the industry and the art itself. To paraphrase Tolkien, the world is changing and we can smell it in our eau and in our oakmoss.

Denyse is asking some important questions:

When was the last time you were enchanted by a perfume, and which one(s)?

Are you starting to suffer from launch fatigue?

And are you restricting the number of houses/perfumers you follow as a result?

Do you feel moved to seek out new voices online? Or is it all just too much to keep up with?

As a blogger, these issues  take up a somewhat different direction. If I'm going to keep doing this, I have to go out there and smell the drek. I don't have to write about all of it, so I usually don't, but I need to know what's out there for the purpose of semi-intelligent reviews. I don't bother with everything and I definitely don't go out of my way to smell it all. I'm lucky to live where I do and have access to just about anything I could ask for- niche, luxury and mainstream. But there's only this much time and skin to spare, so I can be selective. Actually, I have to be selective for the sake of my sanity.

It's not much different when it comes to my other blogging interests. I do not cover every brand of makeup and skin care on the market. I can't try every lipstick, mascara or face wash, and I don't want to do that. I'm often asked why I don't write about certain popular companies. The answer is that I don't want to. I have a certain point of view and I want my blog to be a reflection of me and my tastes, not of every marketing pitch and press release in the universe.

We all know there are too many products and too many new releases. It's true for lipstick and it's true for perfume. Like most of us, news about a new exclusive niche houses no longer thrill me and send me rushing to  order samples and question the guys at Aedes, Begdorf and the rest of the usual suspects for all the details.  I wonder if there's really an artistic vision behind the new perfume entrepreneur whose PR team is emailing me enthusiastically or if it's just another cynical jump on the very tired bandwagon to make a few bucks (because we all know that perfume-making is the way to untold riches. Right). So, yes, it's easier to stick with what I know. I will never skip a new Tauer (a review of Orange Star is coming this week or next), the work of Vero Kern (ditto, regarding the new EDPs that are about to launch) and I'm always excited about a new creation from one of the Christophers (Sheldrake and Brosius). I might not feel the rush to be the first to report on anything (though it's nice when that happens), but I'm excited to be out there, smell and experience.

Compared to early 2006, when I started blogging, there really is an extraordinary number of beauty, fashion and perfume blogs. Personally, I can't keep up with everyone everyday. I don't even try. But I like that the community is expanding. After all, one of our goals is to reach a wider audience, to make more people realize that there is so much more to perfume than the people who spray them in the face at Macy's. A few of the veteran blogs are no longer being updated. Some bloggers drifted away, got involved in other projects or simply lost their mojo. New blogs come and go. Hopefully, the best ones will find their niche and readership and we all will benefit from that.

Guerlain Shalimar Ode à la Vanille

Opinions on the new Guerlain Shalimar Ode à la Vanille vary greatly. Some say it's a return to Shalimar of yore, or at least to some past version. Other say it's closer to the dearly departed Shalimar Light/Eau Legere or its recent incarnation as the somewhat wimpy Eau de Shalimar. Then there are those who claim it's more powdery/less powdery or whatever. But I doubt anyone would dispute the fact Ode à la Vanille is a legitimate member of the Guerlain family. It is definitely a Shalimar.

I usually prefer to spend more than two days and one night with a perfume before attempting to review it, but considering Guerlain released Shalimar Ode à la Vanille as a limited edition I figured it would be a good idea to hurry up a little. I did test it outside in the crisp(ish) fall air and indoors, slept in it and indulged as much as I could. So, yes, I really really like it.

The name Ode à la Vanille is misleading. It is definitely a vanilla scent, but what Shalimar isn't? Thierry Wasser, Guerlain's in-house perfumer, didn't turn Shalimar into a scary gourmand version of itself and I don't find the famous patisserie accord to be amplified in Ode à la Vanille. I also don't find it especially related to the boozy syrup of Spiritueuse Double Vanille other than in that general Guerlain family resemblance. Now that we established what this new perfume is not, let's see what I can actually make of it.

The biggest difference I find between Ode à la Vanille and several of the Shalimar versions I own is in its relative dryness. Despite the variety of citrus fruit (bergamot, lemon, mandarin orange) used in the opening of Shalimar it is anything but light or sporty. Shalimar is all drama and feels perfectly at home in a red carpet gown and other formal attire. While the vanilla note of Ode à la Vanille is deeper and more complex than what we've gotten from past versions (according to Guerlain it was achieved by using different types of vanilla from various sources), there is a mellowness here that starts at the top notes and makes Ode à la Vanille more laid back scent.

The late dry-down seems to share some of the complexity I find in Bois Torride. They don't smell anything alike, but there's an impression of a dusty bitter dark chocolate in both, and I love it. It's just interesting and quirky enough without compromising wearability or beauty. I find Ode à la Vanille less baroque but very elegant. It holds back a lot more than the original but it's still quite plush- not like the aforementioned evening gown, more like a finely-cut blazer that is made of the best possible materials and you can wear it with just about anything and go stroll the Upper East Side and feel like you belong there.

Is Ode à la Vanille to Shalimar the same as Eau Premier is to Chanel No. 5?

Not really, if you ask me. Eau Premier has done away with the more questionable part of No. 5, the perfumy aldehyde opening, that tends to bother many a modern nose. While the relationship between the two Chanels is obvious, one can easily dislike one and adore the other. It's not that simple in the case of this Guerlain. Ode à la Vanille might be easier to wear for some (men, especially), but it's still very much a Shalimar and those who smell it and run for their life or just object to this style of oriental perfumes would not change their minds all of a sudden. I doubt I'd be able to convince even my own mother to wear Ode à la Vanille for a full hour, but then again she has never met a semi-gourmand perfume she liked.

Guerlain Shalimar Ode à la Vanille ($110,50ml EDP) was released in the new Shalimar EDP bottle (the Jade Jagger design). It's a limited edition and bottles seem to be selling quickly but still available from most Guerlain boutiques around the world (Bergdorf might have run out at this point, but the Vegas boutique should still have it). I don't recommend buying unsniffed, especially if one is a bit iffy about Shalimar. It's a great perfume but hardly likely to rock your socks off if you're not already a fan of Guerlain in general and Shalimar in particular.

Outlaw Perfume- Rose Of Cimarron by Bellyflowers

*If you're new to the Outlaw Perfume Project, please read this first*

Long before Bonnie Parker fell in love with Clyde Barrow and joined his outlaw life, there was Rose Dunn in the Wild West. Fifteen year old Rose met professional outlaw George "Bittercreek" Newcomb and fell in love. Rose already knew how to ride, rope and shoot, but was more famous around those parts for her beauty and gentleness and was nicknamed "Rose of Cimarron". Her lover and his gang were busy robbing banks and stagecoaches and Rose got them supplies and tended their frequent gun wounds. Rose of Cimarron fared much better than Bonnie. Two years late, her older brothers had enough of their own outlawish ways, became bounty hunters and turned George & co. in when they stopped by to visit Rose. Lawmen killed the gang and Rose was an honest woman again and lived to old age as a politician's wife.

Perfumer Elise Pearlstine of Bellyflowers Perfumes created Rose of Cimarron as an homage to the woman who put her love before danger. The perfume starts sharp, peppery and a little menacing before the heart unfolds and it's all rose and jasmine, a little green and crisp but also as round and floral as they come. Wearing Rose of Cimarron for a couple of days made me realize that I've nearly forgotten what a true rose and jasmine perfume smells like. We've become too used to those synthetic department store variations, either a laundered rose in a dryer sheet musk or sticky rose over a too sweet plastic amber. The real thing is raw and foreign at first, before smells and mementos from long gone days start flooding one's memories. A precious vial of rose oil hidden in a drawer, sachets of rose petals, crisp white sheets with handmade embroidery and lace laundered and starched in the closet.

Isn't it astonishing that these very ingredients- rose absolute, jasmine absolute and ylang-ylang, materials that once perfumed just about everything, are now heavily restricted and regulated by IFRA, to the point that a scent such as this is an "outlaw"?

Rose of Cimarron's full and complex base (labdanum, patchouli, angelica root, ambrette seed, blond tobacco and amyris) is spicy and has a chypre air. I was actually surprised not to see oakmoss listed as a note because it seems like it's there, especially with the hint of soapiness I get here and there. In any case, once the abundance of pepper dries down, this Bellyflower creation becomes almost familiar and quite  easy to wear. Longevity is excellent and there's quite a lot of sillage for the first three or four hours.

Rose Of Cimarron by Bellyflowers ($40, 10ml) is available from the perfumer's website, tambela.com.

Photos of Rose Dunn from legendsofamerica.com

Caron Alpona

A sharp and edgy citrus chypre, Alpona, a 1939 Caron urn fragrance had no chance in today's IFRA-regulated world and was discontinued a few years ago. Until the first time I smelled Alpona my reference perfume in this category was O de Lancome, which I've always found screechy and unrefined until late into its dry-down when oakmoss takes over. But this is a Caron, so you know you will not find Lemon Pledge here.

The pedigree of Alpona is evident from the very first notes, where the characteristic Caron rose is woven into the citrus opening. It's elegant and very perfumy, for better and for worse; definitely not what young Sephora shoppers would recognize as a fresh citrus fragrance. And that's a very good thing. Wearing Alpona is instantly transforming- clothes are more elegant, there's no reality TV and you're never stuck in traffic on the Turnpike (actually, the NJ Turnpike doesn't exist in Caron's universe).

Looking at the list of notes (via the Perfumed Court): lemon, grapefruit, bergamot, rose, orange, jasmine, orchid, thyme, patchouli, myrrh, cedar, sandalwood, musk and oakmoss, this is full of what the bureaucrats consider skin allergen and perfume lovers see and smell as beauty. The combination of rose and oakmoss adds a lot of complexity to a blend that could have been nothing more than L'Eau d'Issey. Instead, Alpona dries down into a soft mossy musk, a bit furry and animalic (my husband insists he smells honey on my skin) and just a little leathery- think a kinder, gentler vintage Cabochard.  IFRA really owes us for making Caron discontinue this gem.

Both images appeared originally at Harper's Bazaar. The first is the 1939 ad for Alpona prior to its debut  in the French Pavillion at the NY World Fair (vintageadbrowser.com). The second is a fashion photograph by Louise Dahl-Wolfe featuring model Mary Jane Russel, 1952 (myvintagevogue.com).

Paco Rabanne Lady Million

As someone who loves many of the classic Paco Rabanne perfumes, I was cautiously optimistic about Lady Million, the new release under Rabanne's name. According to press releases, several serious perfumers were involved in Lady Million's creation- from legendary Dominque Ropion to Anne Flipo and Beatrice Piquet. Smelling the fruits of their labor reminds me of the old adage that a donkey (or a camel, according to some sources) is a horse designed by a committee. I like donkeys and camels well enough, and this new Paco Rabanne perfume is as pleasant as a synthetic fruitchouli can get, but this is no horse.

The raspberry note in the opening is what kills Lady Million for me. It drowns everything else- citrus and flowers- that might be there in its sticky sweetness. When eventually things calm down a little I recognize a rather generic honey-patchouli dry-down. This perfume could have easily be the latest Juicy Couture, DKNY's Delicious-whatever or a Calvin Klein Euphoria flanker. I guess some consider this style to be sexy and alluring, but to me this is something to pour over my pancakes only if for some reason I'm desperate and out of real Canadian maple syrup.

There's something quite vulgar in both the name, the bottle and the ad campaign. It makes me wonder who exactly is the target consumer of Lady Million. Obviously, not those of us who hoard vintage bottles of Calandre, La Nuit and Metal.

What Would June Cleaver Wear?

When I write (and think) about vintage perfume, especially bottles from the 1950s and early 60s (some released during those years, other older but still popular), I usually turn to the super-sexy ones. Leather chypres, smoky dry-downs, civet, real musk and other dirty animalics. Of course, there are just as many the lady-like perfumes from that era. After all, Audrey Hepburn didn't wear Bandit and neither did Grace Kelly. We usually think of icons like Jacqueline Kennedy, Marilyn Monroe, Sophia Loren and Elizabeth Taylor who represented the glamor of those days, and perfumes such as Miss Dior, Le De, Chanel No. 5 and various Guerlains. I also remember that moment in the first season finale of Mad Men when Joan prepares for her date by dabbing Shalimar.

I was reading the news today about the death of actress Barbara Billingsley, who will forever be June Cleaver to most of us. She wore pearls, an apron and a wholesome smile, got a peck on the cheek from Mr. Cleaver every morning and night and dreamed about... what?

June Cleaver probably had a couple of perfume bottles on her dresser. What did she wear with her pearls every day? Did the Avon Lady come a calling for her? Did she wear L'Interdit for special occasions, or maybe Le Dix? Do you think she had a bar of No. 5 soap tucked away for use when she and Ward went away on vacation without the boys? Did he buy her a bottle of Fleurs de Rocaille for her birthday? Or maybe L'Air du Temps?

For some reason I can't imagine June Cleaver in Arpege or My Sin any more than in Tabac Blond or Mitsouko. But then again she might have had a secret life we know nothing about. I actually like this thought.

Donna Karan Cashmere Mist Luxe Edition

Some longtime readers might remember that I used to count Donna Karan's Cashmere Mist among my mortal enemies. It's not that I didn't get why so many people love it: I have a friend who smells absolutely exquisite in it. It's just that on my skin Cashmere Mist turned into a very synthetic musky powder mess. But something has changed some time during the last year. It's not that I started to like this Donna Karan perfume, but I've either softened with age or simply smelled so much real dreck, that a mediocre powdery crowd pleaser no longer annoys me.

This should tell you that I had no expectations, good or bad, from the samples of last year's release, Donna Karan Cashmere Mist Luxe Edition EDP. I was so indifferent I put the samples away and promptly forgot about them. They languished in a drawer until a quick rummage revealed I had enough of them for a thorough testing. That was about three or four weeks ago. I'm down to my last sample and there's very little holding me back from heading straight to Ulta for a small bottle.

Seriously.

First, the main difference between the Luxe Edition and Cashmere Mist (EDT. I don't have a sample of the regular EDP) is that it smells more skin-like and less chemical. It seems like to celebrate the 15 years anniversary of CM, Donna Karan (Lauder, actually, who is the owner of Donna Karan Beauty) upgraded and improved the formula. It certainly feels more luxurious- softer and richer. It's closer to the skin and actually more cashmere like, though I've had no problem wearing it on some hot and humid August days.

More than anything, Cashmere Mist Luxe Edition feels fluffy. It has soft wood and barely sweet vanilla that reminds me of the Whole Foods brand marshmallows- they are soft, pillowy and not too loaded with sugar, making them an ideal adult guilty pleasure. The musk is of the deceivingly elusive kind. You think it's gone but all of a sudden you catch a whiff of a delicate and pleasing skin scent that comes from your neck and/or clothes. There's something sensual about it, I guess, but the perfume is still daytime and office appropriate. The sillage is low but the subtle dry-down survives for at least 8 hours, even if by the end of the day I need to stick my face in my shirt to smell it.

Jean Paul Gaultier- Le Mâle

Earlier tonight my husband caught a whiff of Le Mâle- I was wearing it once again just before typing this review (I always do this. Somehow I can't write about Dreck du Jour while marinating in MKK or Shalimar. The adjective don't flow right). All he said was: "What's that? It's very familiar". Of course it is. Just about everyone and their brother-in-law have had a bottle of Jean Paul Gaultier's first masculine perfume, Le Mâle, at some point in the last 15 years, and most of them still do. You smell it everywhere- stores, subway cars, clubs. And why not? Le Male is such a friendly and easy to wear scent.

One of the secrets to the popularity of this Jean Paul Gaultier and Francis Kurkdjian creation is that it smells so clean while being one of those loud high voltage masculines you just can't ignore. It has a strong lavender-herbal-neroli opening that takes you right back to traditional barbershops and to well-groomed men of yore who had Yardley products and Brilliantine in their bathroom cabinets. On his Le Male review for NST, Kevin suggest the origin and true nature of Gaultier's fantasy sailors. He's probably right, considering the designer's aesthetics and other work. But my personal association with the image has always been the singing and dancing sailors from the 1949 Gene Kelly and Frank Sinatra movie On The Town.

But Le Male is not just a clean herbal cologne. It dries down to a sweet wood and amber snuggly base. That's probably the part that prompts men and women to get closer, sniff and linger there, right at neck level. It's sexy, but despite the tattooed sailors, it's more of an All-American wholesome kind of sexy. Or maybe I just got confused by the dancing sailors.

Jean Paul Gaultier Le Mâle ($42, 1.3oz EDT) is available from many department stores as well as from Sephora.

Outlaw Perfume - The Revolution Has Started

I first became aware of IFRA and the restriction of certain perfume ingredients sometime around the end of 2005 or the beginning of 2006. I was already an avid reader of perfume and beauty blogs but had yet to start my own. I've read that some classic formula had to be changed because IFRA, a weird organization of which I've never heard before was trying to eliminate raw materials that could cause skin allergies. But none of this made much sense. Skin allergies? I was certainly familiar with those being very sensitive to a bunch of soaps, detergents, hair and body products and very common household products. They give me a rash so I do my best to prevent skin contact. All these items were clearly labeled with "if a rash develops discontinue use". So I discontinue use just as I read the labels on food, medication and cat treats. This perfume issue could not be true, right?

Only it was. And soon it became clear this wasn't just about oakmoss. There (among many others) went lavender, certain rose absolutes, pure jasmine, lemon verbena and citrus oil. Yes, the stuff you get on your hands, raw and undiluted, every time you peel an orange or zest a lemon. And why was IFRA insisting on restricting to the point of neutering or outright banning ingredients in perfume while everything else from bleach to peanuts only gets a warning label? Because according to the EU, people who use perfumes cannot be trusted to read labels. Seriously.

One by one beloved perfumes were changed to the point they became unrecognizable and the industry kept quiet. Guerlain changed some formulas and discontinued others, Chanel (still!) kept denying anything was going on, pretending loyal customers were either dumb, anosmic or both and everyone else followed suit. It's their livelihood, after all.

It became clear that if anything was going to change, if anyone was going to say "enough!" it was not going to be the big corporations. They'd just keep on churning bottle after bottle of bland synthetic dreck, put all their money into marketing and shiny ad campaigns and pray we wouldn't notice. But we did and we still do. The answer seems to be coming from the indie perfumers, especially those dedicated to cultivating and using the best natural ingredient the world has to offer.

The Outlaw Perfume project is one such effort. The Natural Perfume Guild headed by Anya McCoy is embarking on creating a series of perfumes that would make IFRA itch. Made from the good stuff and smelling like perfume should smell, every Outlaw perfume will have a clear warning label. It's up to us to use them right. This project is backed by several bloggers and websites and will include reviews and exciting giveaways.

The Mystery Of Musk 3- DSH Perfumes- Musk Eau Natural

The third Mystery Of Musk day brings us a stunner. Dawn Spencer Hurwitz of DSH Perfumes created Musk  Eau Natural using nothing that was not on the list of musk-like materials suggested by the Natural Perfumers Guild (containing 21 ingredients, 17 of them botanical, the others are the non-cruelty animal based). Limiting the pallet like this could have ended in a crude half-baked product. Instead, she created a polished, well-balanced gem.

DSH was inspired by the era of the most daring and innovative perfumes, the Art Deco period, that gave us some of the Chanel, Coty and Guerlain classics in their original no holds barred incarnation, real animalic materials and strong sensual sillage. Recreating such an atmosphere within the Guild's guideline is one part of the triumph. The other part is how marvelous it smells.

Musk Eau Natural smells like the fuzzy lovechild of Mecca Balsam (an all natural perfume) and Tauer's L'Air du Deset Marocain (a blend of naturals and synthetics). It's the costus and labdanum, smoky resins and oriental touch that creates this impression right from the top notes. The opening is strong and animalic but it  treads on soft paws and has no abrasive edges. It feels like you could wear it at the Algonquin round table and it would instantly contribute to your wit and allow you to mingle.

Somwehere along the scent's long wear (it's a parfum concentration and a couple of drops last for the better part of the day) the base gets sweeter and softer. The ambery nectar of patchouli, vanilla, woods and resins creates that warm feeling of a musky skin. The fragrance is incredibly intimate at this stage, inviting and irresistibly sexy.

Dawn Spencer Hurwitz offers Musk Eau Natural as part of her Parfums des Beaux Arts series together with three other new all-natural musks, including a chypre-musk (called ESME or Mystery of Musk Version 4). There's currently a special summer 20% off offer with code July10 (valid until July 21st). I have every intention to make a good use of it.

Elena of Perfume Shrine has reviewed Musk Eau Natural here. I think her giveaway of a full bottle might still be open, so sign up for it if you haven't already. The full list of participants in the project can be found in yesterday's post. Don't forget: Tomorrow night I'm going to post my review and giveaway of Kewdra by Anya's Garden.