Jean Carles, the Beethoven of modern perfumery, created many unforgettable classics that have changed the world of perfumery forever. Tabu and Canoe (Dana), Shocking (Schiparelli) as well as several scents for Lucien Lelong. And like Beethoven, he lost his sense of smell towards the end of his career. But that did not stop him from creating great fragrances. Ma Griffe being one of them. And like Tabu and Schiaparelli, whatever it lacks in nuance and refinement, it makes up for in a bold and innovative advertising campaign.

I've always had a fondness to Ma Griffe (1946), be it the original (and more demure ad) portraying the literal meaning of the scent "My Signature" with a lady's hand signing her name with perfume instead of ink. But also always ignored it because of my much greater love and loyalty to Miss Dior, the epitome of animalic-floral chypres tinged with green. When smelled separately, the two bring each other to mind. But Ma Griffe has a certain crudeness to it that has softened and rounder by the time 1947 rolled around with Miss Dior (also created by Jean Carles, this time in collaboration with Paul Vacher. The extrait for Miss Dior, by the way, was reworked by Edmond Roudnitska). By then he must have perfected the concept, resulting in a seamless Chypre that is like no other.


Ma Griffe opens with a burst of juicy lemony notes and bergamot, as well as citronella, which I feel is the culprit of the opening notes, and probably what made it not nearly as popular as Miss Dior that followed it - the citronella gives a sharp impression that takes away from the refinement of the rest of the composition. There is a hint of galbanum, but not enough to leave trails on your man's back!
As the perfume evolves, it becomes more bitter, tart and woody, and less feminine and sultry.
 Aside from galbanum, two other contributors to the bitterness is methyl ionone and coumarin - notes that bring to mind the metallic-floral prowl of Je Reviens and Rive Gauche. This phase, admittedly, is not my favourite part of Ma Griffe, which also has a hint of oily aldehydes (C-11, C-13) - giving it a very lady-like personality. It's charming in low doses, but is very particular to the era and not necessarily appeal to today's fast-paced, simplicity-seeking lifestyle. I imagine the same "type" of women who enjoyed it in the 50's would now appreciate the reformulated Sisley's Eau de Champagne - which is a lot more simpler, brisk and still has that bitter charm of a glass of very dry martini.

Once the aldehydes quiet down a bit, the warmth of cinnamon begins to come through, as well as a hint of incense from the styrax (AKA liquidambar - one of the main components for creating amber accords). The florals are not particularly strong in any phase, but if anything comes through, it's the spiciness (hint of eugenol) and fruity-banana-like nuance from the ylang ylang. This underappreciated floral is a wonderful, smoothing counterpart to green notes, who in return cif ut through its intense, heady sweetness. Both together eliminate their potential for nauseating headiness, and create something new and exciting. If you've smelled Chamade, with its prominent galbanum-ylang ylang contrast, you may know what I am referring to.

As Ma Griffe dries down, it's becoming even more appealing, especially for the connoisseurs of unsweet perfumes. Strong presence of vetiverol - the vetiver alcohol - gives it a very clean, tart, precioius-wood finish that men could sport with just as much confidence as ladies.

This review is for a pre-IFRA regulated version (from days of yore, when there was no requirements of listing any allergens on the ingredients list) and in the EDT formulation. It's very vintage-y, and if comparing to Miss Dior - it has more of a white floral and musky nuances to it, which remind me a bit of Chant d'Aromes. It also has more of a citrusy burst and it's more aldehydic and powdery than Miss Dior. I should get around to write a full review of it next week. One of these days I'll do a side-by-side of these three beauties, and give you a more elaborate comparison.

Top notes: Lemon, Begramot, Citronella, Galbanum, Aldehydes
Heart notes: Ylang Ylang, Jasmine, Rose, Gardenia, Clary Sage, Cinnamon, Styrax
Base notes: Vetiver, Coumarin, Oakmoss

Victoria Jent of EauMG reviews Treazon a.k.a. my killer tuberose:
"It’s this perfect balance between a “green” tuberose and a milky tuberose (...) Treazon dries down a warm, creamy tuberose with lactonic, coconut-like woods and a smoky tobacco. It becomes a “darker” tuberose that melds perfectly to the skin".

Created in 1996, Hanae Mori's eponymus scent* is as young as my daughter (which is a perenial if not a "classic" in current perfume lifespan terms) and is about as girly as could be. It is probably the fragrance that  have set the trend for the myriads of sugary fruity-florals that dominate the celebrity scent world. While Angel and Lolita Lempicka had sweet notes that sugar-coated a very bold base dominated by patchouli and vetiver respectively - Hanae Mori's goes straight to the candy.

The beginning is somewhat fresh, with hints of crisp apples, and light citrusy rose and strawberry. But cotton candy is the true star of the show for the next few minutes. Creamy heliotropin creates an almondy nuance, and alongside strawberry-flavoured saltwater taffy, it is hard to imagine a little girl who won't like it. It envelopes with a smooth, sweet (and not sickening, yet) aura of fun-loving innocence. It took the gourmand sweetness of classics such as Eau de Charlotte (based on chocolate and cassis) to a new level of exaggerated sweetness. After a few good minutes, the rose peeks out of its hiding place. Rose that is slightly green, yet also sweet and juicy-citrusy. It reminds me of the insane Japanese bubble gum I had long time ago, the one that turns your skin into a rose-smelling bed of red hives. Another interesting element that comes out is sandalwood. So perhaps this is not entirely sugar and fluff. More vanilla and sweetness will come along further as it develops on the skin. It's a little too sticky-sweet to my taste, and without enough darkness to sustain my interest (I like sweet, but I also like a bit more of an edge to a scent - which is why I so enjoy L by Lolita Lempicka - the warmth of the cinnamon and the hint of immortelle really balance all the vanilla and musk overload).

In hindsight, this perfume is quite fun and original for its time. But after coming across so many celebrity scents with the same formula (nondescript flower + random choice of fruit + vague musk + arbitrary piece of wood) and the same premise - it did lose a fair amount of its lustre. Add to this the fact that most similar scents can be found for ridiculous sums, while this remains a bit of a high-end fragrance, I imagine is a bit disillusioning for Hanae Mori fans.

But of course, there is more than something to be said about the marketing and cultural aspects of a fragrance, and Hanae Mori has and will remain a cult fragrance. Not only because it was one of the first of the gourmand fruity-florals genre; but also because of its packaging, and because a rectangural bottle with a chunky, asymmetric top and what looks like a butterfly sticker slapped on it by a little child is I suppose irresistibly cute. Or shall I say Kawaii?

Top Notes: Wild strawberries, sweet blackberries, blackcurrants, bilberries**
Middle Notes: Bulgarian rose, ylang-ylang, jasmine, French peony 
Base Notes: Rosewood, almondwood, sandalwood and cedar
 
* Usually referred to as "Hanae Mori Butterfly" because of the butterfly print on the bottles and/or boxes. There are pink, blue and red butterflies - each colour corresponding to the concentration level: Eau de toilette (pink), which is what this review is based on; Eau de parfum (blue); and parfum extrait (red).
** Bilberry is really the European version of blueberry.