Goodbye, Elizabeth...

:'(

Oranges, dirty and otherwise...

Orange squash, orange Wine Gums, the orange-filled Fry's Chocolate Cremes and Quality Street sweets from the enorous tin at Christmastime...  As a child, orange was definitely my favourite flavour. My predilection stopped short of the fruit itself, leading my mother to genuine concerns about scurvy and rickets, but an orange sweet or treat whilst grubbing around in the garden is an enduringly wonderful childhood memory.

It's no wonder then that orange and all things citrus are notes that I have long-enjoyed in my fragrance choices.  Orange is such a happy scent.  Indeed, Clinique created a scent bursting with oranges, in a bright orange flacon with their 1999 Happy For Men.  But I'm afraid this is one of the few orange fragrances that doesn't work for me.  Like seemingly every other men's release from the nineties, Happy For Men is swathed in that calone-freshness that makes it far too dull and conformist.

No, it's big, unashamed oranges that I like in my scent, like Jean Claude Ellena's Cologne Bigarade for Editions Frederic Malle (and the slightly better Bigarade Concentrée).  This was a must-buy as soon as I smelled it.  It's full-on, bitter, zesty orange, propped up with a bit of light wood.  Wonderful.

Orange also seems to work for me when its bright cleanliness is put against the foil of something more dirty or sinister.  The 1951 classic Eau d'Hermès with its fetid orangey-leather and cumin-sweatiness is amazingly schizophrenic.  It was created by Edmond Roudnitska whilst Ellena was working as his apprentice and JCE's Déclaration for Cartier from 1998 is definitely his modernist take on that 'dirty orange' theme.  Déclaration isn't obviously an orange scent and its skank is quite subtle too but it's that understated, cryptic interplay alongside the cardamom and woods that makes it so uniquely interesting.  Arguably, Terre d'Hermès is another development in this vein too.

Orange remains a staple note in perfumery and Andy Tauer's Orange Star is a wonderful reworking of its capabilities, packing more of a punch than you'd imagine.  Orange is one of those smells that always seems to 'reach' you - when somebody's tackling a satsuma in the office or on a train carriage, chances are you'll smell it sooner or later.  Orange Star seems to be one of the few scents that really draws upon that power.

Last summer, Cartier released a flanker for their wonderful Eau de Cartier which replaced the fizzy Parma Violets of the original with a smooth, clean orange scent - Eau de Cartier Essence d'Orange. It's very good, if resolutely 'fake' in its oranginess.  However, this year's big mainstream newbie Boss Orange is, like every other Boss fragrance, a cynical "don't scare the straight boys" shower gel concoction that flirts with a bit of nondescript fruit.  It's just dull.

No, I like my oranges with at least a nod to reality but preferably with a bit of dirtiness as well.  I wonder why...

          [by ANDREW]

"Please Sir, can I have some more?"

When Hermès announced that it was extending the Jardins Collection with the imminent release of Un Jardin sur le Toît, I immediately hoped that Sir Jean Claude Ellena had a new cologne composition up his sleeve too.

The Jardins are OK - the fig-fest of Un Jardin en Méditerranée is of its time, Un Jardin sur le Nile made for a good book but I have an aversion to watery scents so Un Jardin après la Moussin is a bit of a scrubber for me. But with their smart orange boxes and green glass bottles, it's the Colognes collection that I love...

I discovered Eau d'Orange Verte in an airport Duty Free shop some time in the early 90s and had gone through a couple of bottles within a year. Has JCE tweaked it? Probably, but it's still wonderful. Eau de Pamplemousse Rose is utterly joyful with its fleeting stab of real grapefruit that settles into the sedate, assured smell of wealth.  But it's Eau de Gentiane Blanche that I love the most, Ellena's leftfield contribution to the "neglected" genre of eaux de cologne. It's all mulchy and vegetal, fresh and outdoorsy yet metropolitan and strangely sophisticated.

So, what could he add to the line-up? A revolutionary treatment of lemons? A lavender to end all lavenders? Lime? Yuzu? Geranium? Any or all of those would be most welcome from the schnozzle of Mr Ellena. But I wish he'd just get on with it.

          [By ANDREW]

Moiya is Not a Perfume Tart

But I am.  An unashamed perfume tart...

Moiya is an old friend of mine who's very successful in the Beauty Industry.  In fact, her Little Black Book could make a fortune on eBay.  And she has been loyal to just one fragrance since its launch nearly two decades ago - Dolce and Gabanna Pour Femme.

I find the idea of complete loyalty to a signature scent both bewildering and astonishing. Or deep down, am I just jealous of such fidelity?  With me it's Mitsouko one day, Quorum the next; a dash of Derby, a dousing of M7...  I can't imagine removing that daily choice from my life.

On a recent day out with Moiya, we combined a trip to Titanic - The Artefacts Exhibition at the O2 with an impromptu interview.  I wanted to press her on her decision to remain with just one scent for so long, especially when she works around so many fragrance options every day.

The Titanic exhibition is breathtaking.  So many direct links to that most famous of tragedies.  I could almost hear Celine Dion warbling in the background.  When I asked Moiya to delve into her perfume past, she revealed that, like many, many women, her first scent experience was with Charlie:  "I loved it.  I must have been about thirteen, and could afford to buy it with my pocket money. I loved the advert, and the jingle. I wore it for years."

She couldn't recall the name of her next, 'transitional' scent, just that it came in a grey, ribbed bottle, but her first big designer fragrance was the original Armani Pour Femme. "I wore it for about six years. It was elegant, and sophisticated. Shame they discontinued it."

At the exhibition, you get the chance to smell samples of fragrance that were being taken to New York on that fated voyage. Perfumes that have spent nearly a century under the ocean.  How amazing and moving is that?  Actually consuming something that went down with the Titanic...

I continued to coax the Beauty Industry Insider for her own perfume heritage.  "I discovered D&G Pour Femme in 1994 and it's been my fragrance ever since," she happily explained, peering at the Titanic's steering wheel.  (Are they called steering wheels on ships?  I should have read the board next to it but I was conjuring the smell of D&G Pour Femme in my mind.)

"I love the bottle - its classical simplicity appeals to me.  I hate bells and whistles and things hanging off bottles. They put me off.  I want something timeless and elegant.  But I'm afraid I hate the velveteen box. It gets really dusty."

And how does she find the strength; the lasting power of her signature scent?  "I do two squirts, no more. Even in the evening. Less is more.  I've tried all the body preps but I don't really like them. I find that it makes the overall effect too strong and I hate strong fragrances - Giorgio makes me sneeze!"

But why does she love it so much?  Why has she stayed so loyal for so long?  "It's elegant, subtle and soft... And one of the main reasons that I love it is that every time I wear it, somebody notices. Kate Beckinsale only commented last week how lovely it smelt!"  She dropped the name in a totally unassuming fashion.  Naturally, I wished it had been Kate Winslet who had complimented her.  That would have been far more fitting.

I came away with many a spine-tingling insight into the sad fate of the Titanic and a much greater understanding of why some people remain loyal to their chosen signature scents.  If you find something that is so magical and perfect for you, why not stick with it?

No, loyal Moiya is most definitely not a perfume tart.  But I'll always be one.  Now, where did I leave that Bang sample...?

          [By PETER]

The Rochas 'Globe' Mystery

Discontinued?  Officially, it seems.  But Rochas' 1990 or possibly 1991 men's scent Globe is one of those fragrances that crops up on eBay or in online discount stores every once in a while.  Either there's a lot of stock still out there somewhere or it's being produced secretly - how exciting.

Like many discontinued scents, it appears to be achieving some kind of near-mythical status as a lost, beloved, trailblazing men's fragrance - a dangerous floral leather that was way ahead of its time.  Negative reviews on Basenotes are scarce and the forums urge you to snap it up if you spot some.

Which I did.

It's currently available at one of my favourite online discounters, Cheapsmells and in a 'one weekend only' sale just a couple of weeks ago, it was going for a ridiculously low price.  Unfortunately, the bottle delivered was not the Limited Edition metal flacon that they pictured but, hey, they've since rectified that and I was just glad to own this 'lost classic'.  And I like it.  It's not a Holy Grail scent - it's not even a five star composition - but it's very good, original, well-made and it develops handsomely over time as a fine scent should.

But the mystery is further compounded by the perfumer to whom the fragrance is attributed.  Variously, sources assign it to Nicolas Mamounas and the real emperor of scent, Jean Claude Ellena himself.  In fact, JCE bashers use it as a prime example of how the revered minimalist used to be capable of more complex and successful compositions.  Chandler Burr says it's Ellena's work in 'The Perfect Scent' but Basenotes says it's Mamounas'.

So, is it really discontinued?  Is it being produced in tantalisingly small quantities by international fragrance counterfeiters who then sell it on the cheap?  And who created it in the first place, Mamounas or Ellena?

With a little more poking about I'm sure I could find some concrete answers.  But it's a niggling rather than a genuinely worrying mystery so I'll just remain relatively pleased that I now own a bottle, even if it's not the metal edition, and one day I'll probably stumble across the truth.

          [By ANDREW]

What Befits a Legend?

It's not every day that you get to have lunch and a good gossip with a living legend. Yesterday, I had a delightful five hours with Miss Martha Reeves.  Younger readers may be thinking "Who?"  I advise them to YouTube "Dancin' in the Streets", "Jimmy Mack", "Heatwave",  all staggering examples of the joyous Motown sound that delighted the world nearly five decades ago.  What's amazing about that music is how fresh and exciting it still sounds today. These are tracks that work on every level, and I always think that Motown is the one style of music you can put on at a party without a single objection.

As an unashamed fan, I wanted to give the delightfully naughty Miss Reeves a fragrance worthy of her, and it was agonising.  What perfume encapsulates glamour, longevity and style, with a bright commercial appeal?  It had to be Youth Dew, albeit the slightly-tweaked Tom Ford remix, Amber Nude.  Swathed in fox fur, the irrepresible Martha's eyes twinkled as she opened the packaging...  "My, what a pretty bottle!" was her first response, then a quick spray on her still-fabulous cleavage led to that famous grin. "Just the one spray, honey?" she asked.

The truth is that one spray, at lunch, will suffice. We are educated into not smelling too heavliy, not smelling too strongly, and this is totally appropriate around other people, particularly over food. Youth Dew has a regality about it, perfect for one of the Queens of Motown.  In small doses it beguiles, intrigues.  In large doses, this behemoth is like a Siren, luring men to ontold carnal pleasures.  I love its very heavy-handedness, its inability to slink in the background like a Vera Wang perfume.  It's made to last, looks amazing after all these years, and sings a beautiful melody. Wear it, and smell rum and Coca-Cola (from a cold glass bottle, naturally). Wear it, and take a little journey back to when women smelt unashamedly divine, and strong, and passionate.  If you find yourself dancing in the streets with joy, don't blame me.

          [By PETER]

REVIEW: Body Shop 'White Musk for Men'

A little light snobbery can be fun and self-affirming as long as you don't take it too seriously.  Yes, I'm allowed to criticise one fragrance because there's another in my cupboard that cost an obscene amount of money.  Ultimately that's just silly and meaningless, isn't it?

I don't hold with guilty pleasures and I'm patently not a music snob - you should see some of the monstrosities in my iTunes library.  And I like to think I'm not a perfume snob either.

May I present some concrete evidence for that...?  Alongside my bottles of (excellent) Old Spice and my (cheap and amusing) Denim shower gel, I'm really rather fond of Body Shop's White Musk for Men.  At £16 for 100ml, you know you're not getting high art or gold standard quality but what you do get is very, very good and has become one of my 'spray with abandon' staples.

The bottle is a handsome block of glass, bleeding from clear to a deep purple and the scent itself is a bright, cheerful blast of cleanliness.  Of course, it's not the rich, animalic, spicy musk of Frederic Malle Editions de Parfums 'Musc Ravageur' or Calvin Klein's 'Obsession', the kind that sends captive big cats crazy in experiments; rather it's the soapy, nitro-musk of fresh laundry, a skin-friendly, freshly-scrubbed, undersexed musk.  Lasting power's minimal but it's so inexpensive that you can just reapply freely.

If some of your scent choices are big, baroque, bombastic tunes then White Musk for Men plays a bit of undemanding pop music that can provide some welcome light relief.

          [By ANDREW]

Give it Some Wood: The 'Tam Dao' Layering Experiment

It's a drizzly evening in London.  The schnauzer's curled up next to me on the sofa, the TV's on without sound, wasting electricity and the new Lucinda Williams album is growling and twanging in the background.

A rummage around my samples box doesn't show up anything that I don't feel fully familiar with so I decide to have a bit of an experiment; do a bit of mixing or layering and see if I can come up with a new smell sensation.  Or at least something to stave off the boredom.  I scour my cupboard of scents for some ideas...

Diptyque's Tam Dao is an excellent fragrance but ultimately it's just wood.  Very woody wood, like I imagine a walk through a sawmill would smell.  It's very nice wood indeed.  But just wood.  So I select a few scents that I think may benefit from a good, strong wood at their base, apply them to my arms and smell the results over the course of the next couple of hours...

Monsieur Balmain
It's an inexpensive reformulation of the Germaine Cellier original (that I'd love to locate and sample) but Monsieur Balmain isn't half bad - if you like lemons that is.  With pancake day approaching, I slaver some over a Tam Dao base and see what happens to the super-bright, creamy confection of very lemony lemon when it meets very woody wood.  And it's good.  It all feels deeper and more complex with a bit more zestiness up top.

Hermes 'Hiris'
Hiris is a strangely sour, hissy kind of iris rather than a sweet, earthy, rounded one and she doesn't seem to like a big old block of wood invading her space.  She turns her back and stands firm and Tam Dao just paces around her.  The combination doesn't work at all and I can smell the two scents quite separately.

Matthew Williamson 'Incense'
Wood and incense is a natural combo and whilst I certainly wasn't expecting anything like the stature of Armani Privé's 'Bois d'Encens', I thought this pairing might work out.  And it did.  The Williamson scent is just sheer enough to allow Tam Dao to shine through and they rest atop one another very pleasantly.  The biggest success of the three, definitely.

And the point of all this?  Well, none really.  I may bolster up my Matthew Williamson with a bit of woody Tam Dao the next time I wear it.  I may not.  Boredom, eh...?

          [By ANDREW]

REVIEW: 'Yatagan' by Caron

Celery is my bete noir.  Along with cucumber.  I'm not a fussy eater and I'll give anything a chance, but celery and cucumber are those foodstuffs about which people ask incredulously: "But why can't you eat them - they're 95 per cent water?!"  Yeah, and five per cent pure evil.  I'll grudgingly stir a Bloody Mary with a celery stick but our relationship ends there.  Or at least it did until I discovered Caron's Yatagan.

When it comes to scents, the more interesting or challenging the better as far as I'm concerned.  I love the dirty nappy and lavender accord in Jicky and the ageing French libertine with poor personal hygiene that is Kouros.  And I thoroughly enjoy the rasping,  threatening, celery-spiked evil of Yatagan.

Caron's 1976 classic manages to be sharp and high-pitched yet blocky and butch at the same time, like the Child Catcher from Chitty Chitty Bang Bang combined with Popeye's arch-enemy Bluto.  It's another of those fragrances that could never be launched into today's market - and we're richer for its continued existence.

          [By ANDREW]

REVIEW: 'L'Air de Rien' by Miller Harris

Jane Birkin means very little to me.  A few breathy vocals on what amounts to a porn soundtrack and suddenly she's an icon.  I suppose the legendary Hermes Birkin Bag helped but now she complains that its use over the years has caused her Repetitive Strain Injury.

The blurb that accompanies this rather wonderful scent created for her by Miller Harris, the deliciously skanky musk of L'Air de Rien, explains that Mrs Gainsbourg could never, ever find a fragrance that she liked.  Of all the beautiful, artful perfumes created through the years, not one worked for her.  Poor Jane.

But she lucked out with this one.  It's supposed to evoke the smells of Jane's childhood - her father's pipe tobacco, floor polish and old, wooden furniture - and there's definitely a unique, other-worldly air to it.  But it's also sweet and fecal, louche yet rather refined, like a wet dog bounding into a trustafarian's 1960s party, all viewed through the haze of a Camberwell carrot and an extra large whisky.

It's also available in a lighter, toned down version, the slightly more approachable Un Petit de Rien.  That might be a good starting point if the thought of a dirty, old afghan coat in a stale, wood-panelled room doesn't sound too appealing to you.  If you enjoy that then step up to the original.

          [By ANDREW]

REVIEW: 'Nostalgia' by Santa Maria Novella

This is amazing stuff. Like a rough kiss from a sweaty, unshaven mechanic whilst being pushed up against a pile of old tyres... *sigh*

The petrol spill, 'pit-stop' opening dissipates rather speedily and you're left with a dry, subtle, synthetic leather and wood drydown that's eminently wearable.

The name Nostalgia refers to classic cars and the fragrance commemorates some famous race or other. I'm afraid I was a little distracted by the scent itself and scrabbling for my credit card as the lovely lady at the Santa Maria Novella Pharmacy in Florence told me the story.

The wooden bottle cap is totally hideous but this is a beautiful, clever fragrance. Challenging, unabashed postmodernism from an old, refined, established fragrance house.  Excellent.

           [By ANDREW]