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Male Perspective on l'Instant de Guerlain


Archaeological cocktail, originally uploaded by Ignissa.

I spent the better part of the morning with my friend Elliot* browsing the Guerlain counter in downtown Vancouver in search for nothing more than the fabulous Guerlain “fan” – that beautiful display article that shows the different notes, inspiration and bottle designs etc. for a wide array of the (used to be widely distributed) Guerlain scents. I promised Elliot that I will come with him to find the legendary fan (last time he came searching for it they pulled out a fan sprayed lavishly with “Insolence” and waved it at his nose). On that I got a report that immediately cracked me up: “Insolence is sold with the requisite images of pouting, pulsing hot-eyed young damsels, but the scent reminds me of my Great-Aunt Doris - sweet, powdery and cloying”.

The aforementioned fan (i.e. the one we were looking for), normally displayed openly, is now kept behind locked cabinets and hidden so well that it was nowhere to be found at Sears, and only to be found by a twist of faith at The Bay (the Guerlain rep accidentally came through the counter on her 10 o’clock lunch break).

As we were waiting around I couldn’t help but conduct a little private market research on my friend. For background – Elliot is a born Maritimer, Caucasian male in his early 40’s, creative, witty and intelligent and while not quite your typical male fragrance user, I noticed that he quite keen on carrying intelligent conversations and arguments with me on the topic of olfactory experiences and his own memories through the sense of smell.

I started my little survey with l’Instant de Guerlain (pour homme of course), which oblivious to the paper-stripe rituals, he decided to spritz straight on his wrist – Elliot had produced such a boldly remark that I couldn’t help but curiously insert various masculine Guerlain scents under his nose and try to memorize his reaction immediately so I can report back here. So here goes – in a very manly style, just few words and at the very most a sentence or two to describe some of the leading masculine scents from the esteemed house of Guerlain, described by a complete fragrance novice:

Vetiver – Incense, church; smells like an altar boy.

Eau de Cologne Imperiale – wow! For something that dated I would have not expected it to smell so fruity and edible. It really makes me think of food like no other scent.

Heritage – unoriginal, makes you crave a melon fruit-salad.

L’Instant de Guerlain pour Homme – let me remind you that this was the scent that originally started this tirade of masculine perfume commentary. Let me just say that the first remark has established in my mind that men may very likely have a completely different evaluation systems that other organisms. In this case, Elliot seemed to have quite spontaneously develop a scent rating system that is based on how low it makes his testicles hang (sorry ladies, I am trying to bring some of the original wording used in the scene of the crime – so there you have it now… (Habit Rouge, strangely enough, has only got a halfway-down-testicle rating on Elliot’s system). For those who can't get the idea and need it spelled out to them (like me), this means how masculine the scent is perceived by the male evaluator. Hopefully it will provide some useful insights into the male brain (or not).

When repatedly smelling l’Instant pour Homme, visions of growing sideburns have recurred and intensified every time he got back to either the scent stripes or his wrist… and to use some of the terms he used to describe l’Instant I’ll just quote him now with no commentary of my own: “charge of the light brigade” and “military, soldiers of the 19th century” (which he later illustrated to me in his little orange pocket sketchbook – a stiff little soldier a-la Carmen’s Don Jose encased in his 19th century uniform with sideburns growing with every inhale of l’Instant’s march tune.

I will never be able to look at the Guerlain counter the same way ever again, and for a change, l'Instant pour Homme will not be ignored by me next time but rather inhaled or applied before I go to the next mask ball dressed as a man to complete the illusion.

* The name is completely fictional, to ensure my friend fears no criticism when coming up with more witty remarks about perfumes in the future. That was the only way I could have gotten permission to publish these here today…

Oud Omani



man with falcon, originally uploaded by dirkcush.

Strongly medicinal and camphoreous at first, so much that I fondly recall pharmacies and clinics from my childhood where I often visited as little bug-bitten girl to be treated with a cooling calamine lotion, ahhh.... Yet, what is at first an animalic-medicinal agarwood evolves into an elusive musk with raspberry undertones that are (not surprisingly) far more interesting and tasteful than Western mass produced oud interpretation, M7. It than develops some green undertones, reminiscent of spikenard and vetiver, but not quite. Smooth notes of rose appear, very subtle. Although it is not as agarwoody as I’d like it to be (being familiar with the raw materials), it surely radiates the exquisite natural luxury of agarwood, even though with the help of a few synthetics. The dry down of the oud from Oman is incensey, woody, musky, clean and masculine, very much like the smoke of a high quality sandalwood incense sticks.


, originally uploaded by ***•***•***.

Le Labo's Vetiver 46


smoke, originally uploaded by Silent Image.

Le Labo is a relatively new (2006) independent perfume house that commissions different perfumers to design their fragrances. I am not familiar with other scents from this line, nor do I know who is the nose behind this particular scent - but what I do know about about Le Labo’s perfumes is that they all bear names of building blocks followed by a number to indicate how many other building blocks went into the formula.

In the case of Vetiver 46, I can smell the other 45 ingredients far more than building block that gave its name. To be more precise, I smell labdanum and incense. The Le Labo website describes Vetiver 46 as the most masculine of the line, and themed around Haitian vetiver. I find this quite surprising, given the woody, incensey, at times almost smoky quality of the perfume that pervades most of its life on the skin.

Opening with labdanum, cistus oil, olibanum (AKA frankincense) and smoky notes of guiacwood and burning cedarwood, the scent gradually softens but remains rather linear and unchanging. Its aroma is rich, nevertheless; yet while I find the combination of notes appealing on its own, I find the persistence of the labdanum and oakmoss here to be leaving more to be desired.

However, I am quite certain that if the name hinted the promise of incense I would have not been disappointed, even if I found out at the end that there is an underlining mossy, musky quality to the perfume (which gives it its “masculine” nuance). Given that it is called Vetiver 46, I find it difficult to assess the scent based on its performance in an objective manner. If you are looking for a vetiver scent, you won't find it here. If incense is what your heart desires, look no further, it's here in a juice form. Not a joss stick as pictured, but the resins thrown on a hot charcoal in a censer.

While Villoresi’s Vetiver was quite far from being a single-note vetiver, and also, like Le Labo's, plays up the cistus notes - it still was able to derive certain qualities from vetiver (i.e.: the dryness, the astringent freshness) and come back to it in the end. This perfume from Le Labo is the most remotely related to the building block that is its namesake that I’ve smelled of the genre. If it was called Cistus 45 I couldn’t have found this more fitting as a name. The 46th ingredient, Vetiver, got lost in the smoke and was left behind.

Villoresi's Vetiver


" Dernier feux ... ", originally uploaded by dmviews.

Interesting opening, with a pronounced note of herbaceous lavender, lavandin and lavender concrete - painting a rather masculine atmosphere. Galbanum is also a apparent, though more coumarin-like than the sharp green I am accustomed to find in this interesting resinoid. The unusual, green-herbaceous-leathery notes of osmanthus absolute peek through from the heart and create a mysterious warmth, leading us to a cistus essential oil (it’s different than labdanum, a lot more pine-like). Neroli barely manage to surface in this environment of resinous thickness, but it does if you pay close attention. Notes of oakmoss emerge later with much warmth and sophistication. But for the most part what I smell all along is labdanum, lavender concrete (a lavender absolute pre-stage which creates a base note of lavender), and only the bearest hint of vetiver earthiness. My skin tends to feel at home around labdanum and amplify it, so you are more than welcome to take my assessment of the vetiver presence here with a grain of salt. On a second thought, usually my skin also amplifies vetiver, but it does not happen here. I can barely smell the vetiver and probably would have dismissed it completely if the scent had a different name!

Vetiver by Villoresi, much like his Patchouli (which smells like spikenard on me), does not smell too much like the note from which it borrowed its name. It is worth mentioning in this vetiver marathon for its originality and unique combination of notes. Yet if you are looking for a vetiver scent that will showcase the typical characteristics of vetiver, this will not be among the ones I’d recommend. As an interesting exercise in an ambery fougere this is a superb offering with impressive amounts of natural essences, more than the other scents from this house that I’ve tried.

Top notes: Lavender, Galbanum, Cumin,
Heart notes: Osmanthus, Cistus oil, Neroli
Base notes: Labdanum, Vetiver, Oakmoss, Lavender Concrete

For an entirely different fragrance pyramid and to read more reviews of this fragrance, visit Basenotes.

Amber & Lavender

When I lived on the ground level of an old Victorian-style building just a few blocks away, with a hardwood floor and a (non-operaive) fireplace, one of the sample vials of Amber & Lavender fell on the floor and crashed one day without me noticing. I remember laying at bed at night and wondering how come I can smel the cologne of a guy passing by on the street. Living on the ground level that was actually possible just as much as being affected by skunks passing by!
When I woke up the next day to find out that this men’s cologne is still around I was a bit worried… It wasn’t until days later that I found the crashed vial of Amber & Lavender on the floor and had to have a good lough and called my boyfriend to let him know I am no longer worried about the stocker with the sexy cologne…

Amber & Lavender is not so much about amber or lavender as it is about Fougere, and not the most ambery Fougere at that. It’s herbal and clean, with a bold presence and a classical masculine appearance. The base is a tad animalic, even indolic, and a tad spicy. Apparently, this was Jo Malone’s creation for her husband, and I am not surprised. A good Fougere scent is the epitome of masculine scents, and what I associate most with my man.
If you follow some of Jo Malone suggestions for layering with Amber & Lavener, you’d be surprised how versatile this scent is. It is equally warm and fresh, and adds an interesting twist to some of her other scents. The notes that stand out most for me are lavender, sage, cloves, amber and oakmoss.
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