I was a couple of years late into the game trying Santal Massoïa Jean-Claude Ellena (created for the Hermèssence collection). Perhaps it was after the Iris Ukioye that I felt a little disappointed in the line. I feel that the majority of the new creations are becoming victim of their own style. As if the creator's commitment to stick to a certain genre of aesthetic statement. I feel that no matter what theme would be picked for this line, and no matter how outrageously intriguing the combination of notes may be, the result would be the same ethereal, non-descript quality of non perfume. Something quite pleasant, utterly wearable and easily so.

Like many of the scents in the collection, in the several times I wear it and try to find words to describe it - I stick my nose really close to my wrist and shake my head from side to side in search for something more. And before it has any chance to appear, the scent disappears altogether. Which is truly unfortunate in the case of Santal Massoïa. I was truly excited to discover what Jean-Claude Ellena would do with such an intriguing raw material as massoia bark: a rarity in the world of naturals, offering an extremely milky, lactonic odour reminiscent of toasted coconut and melted butter. It would have been the perfect accompaniment to sandalwood - highlighting its milky, creamy qualities, especially the Mysore kind which is practically non existent. This would have helped, I thought, to create a similar quality even in lesser varieties from, say, Australia or New Caledonia.

Instead, I get a watered-down, vaguely woody rendition with hints of peppery spice - sort of a cross between Iris Ukioye, somewhat violetty tea-like hints like Osmnathe Yunnan, and a very subtle wink towards Poivre Samarcande (but with non of the piquant originality of the latter). The sandalwoodiness of it is practically a reflection of a reflection of a clear water pool in a mirror; and the milkiness is more reminiscent of cold milk that one would gulp to wash down a very dry and neutral flavoured shortbread. Maybe if this appeared before any of the above scents did, it would seem original. But being the tenth fragrance in the collection, I desire for something more, something original and surprising. Which haven't happened since the launch of Vanille Galante, and only happened again with Épice Marine (the 11th in the series). This is very thin and linear, which is unfortunate, because neither sandalwood nor massoia are. It left me lukewarm and wanting much more.

Épice Marine arrived after much anticipation (it's about 4 months late) to the Hermès boutique on Burrard & Alberni in Vancouver. The name alone, suggesting a study in contrasts, promised intrigue; and ocean being one of the greatest sources of inspiration for me, I was very much looking forward to experience Jean-Claude Ellena's take on it.

The first imagery that the fragrance conjures for me is that of a spice pirate ship with an unusually scrubbed-clean deck. The distinctive character of calone gives a metallic backdrop to warm, diffusive spicy notes of cumin and cinnamon. It's as unexpected as the lime and cloves combination in coke; but unlike the beverage - there is no sugar to mediate between the two edges; and the feeling is of two separate entities - rolling in heaps of warm, powdered spice against the a sharp and cold stainless steel blade. Lemony notes of bergamot combined with Szechuan pepper come to the fore and give temporary relief from the fishy odour of calone, but not for long. Spacious hedione combined with slightly indolic jasmine notes, and accentuated by a distant breeze of seashore at low tide contribute another point of intrigue. But only long enough for me to figure out what it reminds me of...

The piracy goes deeper than that briney scene at the deck: the composition is a mirror image of Edmond Roudnitska’s first perfume for the company (and now sadly discontinued) - Eau d’Hermès. It is no secret that Jean-Claude Ellena is infatuated with this Roudnitska creation, and in Terre d’Hermès it was explicitly stated. Of course influences are fine - especially when the nose in question was the student of the great master. Besides, being an Eau d’Hermès lover, why should I care if there is a similar perfume offered by the same house?

The reason is, that there is something a bit off about this scent. It does not feel balanced, the use of calone make it smell generic and lackluster. And to me this feels almost like a mockery of the original, rather than an homage. 

Once the confusing impressions of this perfume's opening lines fade away, I'm left with a very generic marine scent that sort of has a presence just enough to distract me occasionally, but never to delight or intrigue any further. And by the time we get to the dryout, it is very faint already. The notes chosen are not the issue. It's the composition and the harmony - if only there was more room for the seaweed absolute and oakmoss to speak up, the saltiness of the dryout would have been more prominent, evocative and memorable. Seaweed absolute is an extremely difficult note to work with, but I still wish it had more presence. It would have made this truly a piece of art, rather than a conceptual, light and crowd pleasing fragrance. 

I realize this is not the style that Ellena is after with the Hermessences,  but in this particular case it feels like a missed opportunity. Épice Marine is perhaps the only perfume that's truly intriguing in this collection, telling a story that can be relatable to others besides the creator and with fascinating raw materials to paint that picture. It has all the making of an interesting perfume, except that it doesn’t work. 




Top notes: Cinnamon, Cumin, Calone, Bergamot, Szechuan Pepper
Heart notes: Hedione, Jasmine
Base notes: Seaweed Absolute, Oakmoss

Madonna Lily, originally uploaded by sugarflower.

Easter came early to Hermès this year with the heady Madonna Lilies that bloom from a bottle titled “Vanille Galante”.

Unlike most of the other Hermessences, which quite clearly answer to their title (except, perhaps, Osmanthe Yunnan) - the vanilla here will not fulfill the craving of the vanillophiles who patiently awaited their dessert after clearing their plate from fresh peppers and a side of lavender.

Vanille Galante burst into the air like a flower rushing to display its colours from fear of loosing the attention of butterflies. Heady ylang ylang only but supports the main theme here - the infamous Madonna Lily, a symbol of purity and the Virgin Mary. Sliced cantaloupe sprinkled with salt brings to mind a giant Easter egg decorated by calone. Whether or not there is calone in Vanille Galante I cannot tell, but I’d like to think that this molecule found its way to the perfume to complete the picture of an Easter picnic under the sky. It’s the same cantaloupe from Un Jardin Apres la Mousson, just in a lesser dosage.
And when the vanilla finally makes an appearance it is more woody than dessert like, and perhaps will bring to mind a flavoured liquor rather than vanilla-dotted crème brûlée.
There is vanilla absolute in the base alright, but overall I would not describe Vanille Galante as a vanilla scent, but as a floral or a floriental at best. The dry down reminds me of Chanel’s Allured - a contrast of computer generated florals against a backdrop of woody vanilla. But Vanille Galante does not feel as artificial, and as with most Jean-Claude Ellena’s scents, this gown has such lightness and airiness about it that it’s easy to wear if it is not exactly your style or preferred colour.