Diptyque's has already won my heart if not at least gained my deepest respect time and again with their classics - Philosykos, Oyedo, l'Ombre Dans l'Eau, Ofresia and Tam Dao. But I kinda stopped following their latest releases as I found them all to be pleasant enough; yet non has stirred anything in me. I probably would have dismissed Volutes completely if it wasn't for Trish's enthusiastic recommendation - she literally left a sample for me on the kitchen table to take home with me - which she didn't need anymore, because she already got her own bottle. Imagine that! If you're a perfumista, you know how rare a "full bottle" is...

Smelling it from the vial (or bottle) did not do it justice, and in my haste to catch the plane to San Francisco, they were left on the kitchen table... And caught up to me a little later, when Trish sent me a care package of a few perfume samples she thought I ought to try.

When I finally made the skinspace for Volutes, I understood what the enthusiasm was all about. It's very different from the other Diptyques in that it's a lot more substantial and full bodied; and dances on the edge of ethereal, smoky, oriental, and maybe even a little gourmand. If anything, it reminds me more of some of the more forthcoming scents they've created for their candle line (i.e.: Feu de Bois, Essence of John Galliano come to mind, in terms of their bold, outspoken complexity).

Volutes plays on the contrast between two themes - the smoothness, warmth and strength of polished woods against the airy, untouchable movement and swirling of incense. It spills out on the skin like warm melted beeswax and honey, creating a feeling that is not quite gourmand, but more so a sensory memory of gliding honeyed wax on smoothly-plucked skin. And maybe licking a polished wooden staircase (I might have done that at some point between the ages of 2-4...).

And then comes a waft of swirling incense mingled with pink pepper, roses, saffron and dates. Sounds familiar? Yes, it does bring to mind another favourite of mine - Ormonde Jayne's Ta'if. Only here the dates are more pronounced, and the musk is less powdery, and more sweet and addictive. The dry down reminds me of the (also addictive) Chai incense sticks (in Shoyeido Gourmet Incense Series).  Burnished pipe also comes to mind, which echoes the tobacco notes beautifully... And the tobacco with an accent of dried hay and immortelle are the last to remain while everything else is has jumped ship.

Top notes: Pink Pepper, Dates
Heart notes: Honey, Beeswax, Roses, Saffron, Incense
Base notes: Tobacco, Vanilla, Musk, Immortelle, Hay

Global warming makes Vancouver's summer feel real. And with it comes a craving for figs. I miss their tangy, fizzy sharpness. I miss their oddly refreshing green sap-milky attitude. I even miss the burning in the tongue as soon as you betray their fabulousness and decide to move on to the next victim in your daily diet.

I would spend many hours of my summer wrapping the fruit in brown paper bags, to protect it from the coveting eyes and beaks of birds. I would spend my mornings around the tree picking the first fruit that might have ripened in the heat remaining over night. I would go back there late afternoon for a snack, checking on the more fruit that ripened in the scorching sun, while frying my bare feet on the sun baked earth.

Figs are one of those fruit that if you don’t eat them fresh, you better not eat them at all. Fresh in this case means that you’ve just picked them from the tree less than an hour ago and preferably haven’t washed them either. It’s better to eat them dusty than washed. Trust me. Once you wash them, they lose both their flavour and their texture: their skin softenes and they become this characterless green sack of seeds…

Black (or “red”) figs keep better and are more marketable. Yet their flavour is often less intense or interesting in my opinion. It is the green figs that I am truly passionate about. And I’ve never seen them sold anywhere… Last summer I’ve had them after about 8 years of green fig withdrawal…

Olivia Giacobetti’s Philosykos for Diptyque is by far the most satisfying fig scent I’ve ever encountered. It reminds me of the whole fig picking experience, tongue burning, milky sap and all. I’m sure by now you are well aware of my partial opinion about it. This summer I am enjoying both the scent as well as the “Figuer” from Diptyque. I got it at Lola, and the first time was very unfortunate: the candle has no scent at all, unless you happened to stick your nose to the flame. Not even than, really. Christina was kind enough to take it back (this is her personal favourite too, and after (not) smelling for herself the poor performance of that particular specimen, has given me a replacement candle, which I am enjoying tremendously.

But for those of you unmoved by Philosykos or simply looking for other fig scents to indulge in this summer instead of the real thing, there are quite a few to choose from, as a quick search on Make Up Alley may turn out.

While I can’t claim to have tried them all (well, I haven’t!), I can definitely bring a few to consider and which I would like to re-visit this summer:


Aftelier's Fig re-creates the experience of overripe black figs, the kind that is actually worth trying even when not freshly picked. An accord of resinous yet sweet fir absolute along with jasmine sambac and yuzu creates this pleasant illusion for a moment in the opening. In my experience, the FIR is the star of FIG, and the jasmine creates a perfumey impression, which dries down to a powdery sweetness.

Jo Malone’s Wild Fig & Cassis: As the name suggest, you get two fruit here: green fig and black currants. I found it to be a little to fruity to my liking, yet I think it makes an interesting layering companion to Black Vetyver Café.

Fresh Index Fig Apricot: Like most of the Fresh line, I find this one to be yet another artificially delicious fruity aroma with too little substance to back it up and account for its perfumeness. The base is musky and head achingly artificial. Still, it’s one of my more favourite combinations in the line (the other being Pomegranate Anise and Redcurrant Basil).

Figue Amere by Miller Harris: If you’re looking for a more sophisticated fig, this might be an intriguing challenge for the fig lover: it is one of the most perfumey of all the fig scents I’ve tried, besides Aftelier’s FIG. Bittersweet and salty at once, it feels dusky rather than summery and reminds me of salt-dipped green almonds, myrrh and heliotrope more than figs...

Io Capri, on the other hand, is an uncomplicated summer pleasure of wild fig and tea leaves. To me this smells mostly of green tea, and while being not in the least sophisticated it makes perfect sense for summertime, when we tend to be a little more extrovert and don’t need the additional distraction of a contemplative fragrance. Io stays the same on my skin, light and fresh and delightful, both unchanged and extremely long lasting yet at the same time never overpowering.

Another fig and tea combination, but more perfumey than Io is Fig-Tea by Parfums de Nicolaï
As a whole, I find Patricia de Nicolaï's fragrances to be quite perfumey.

Feel free to share your favourite fig scents with me here. I would love to hear your opinions and recommendations for any fig scents I haven't smelled or heard of but should!

And last but not least is the first fig perfume to be released, also by Olivia Giacobetti – this time for l’Artisan Parfumeur, which reportedly proceeded all the other scents I’ve mentioned. While it is indeed a very fine fragrance, I believe that Ms. Giacobetti got it perfect the second time around with Philosykos. To me, Premier Figuier is a tad too melancholy, and too green with its mastic leaf top notes, and it is a tad too fleeting as well. Nevertheless, the coconut milk base makes it my second choice after Philosykos when a green fig fix is required.

Figs are irresistible. Considered the fruit of Venus and Aphrodite in the Roman and Greek traditions, figs are believed to awaken a healthy passion and bring fertility. The sensuality of figs combines some ambivalence, just as sexuality can sometimes be both disturbing and pleasurable. And while the fruit is utterly seductive, lest we forget the leaves, who are responsible for the development of fashion for generations to come. And