Apple Orchard is yet another moody masterpiece by Russian natural perfumer Anna Zworykina. Like the few others I've reviewed before, it has a very Antique-Asian feel to it, while still being true to its title. In fact, I find all of the perfumes I've tried so far to beautifully deliver what they are meant to portray. Some perfumers are just talented that way, which adds another special dimension to the composition, in my opinion. No matter how sophisticated the audience might think they are, they always will respond more emotionally to a poetic name rather than just a number title, for instance.

Apple Orchard is not so much about apples as it is about the orchard. And I  envision an abandoned orchard, at the end of fall. Some of the apples are still dangling from the naked boughs, but most of them are already rotting on the ground...

Despite the fact that the perfumes are using similar materials to my palette (Like yours truly, Anna Zworykina uses only natural oils, absolutes, tinctures and CO2 extractions, and no isolates), it is not easy to dissect them from one another. The perfumer has masterfully succeeded in creating something new and enticing from rather familiar notes. There is a certain medicinal quality that seems to be the perfumer's trademark, and which gives it that feel of an old Chinese apothecary, with chest full of drawers mysteriously labeled, the wood thoroughly soaked in the aromas of the magical herbs contained within it for decades. All of the perfumes I've tried have a very unique "fingerprint" in that sense, and I suppose you can either find it charming, of completely off-putting. But to me this is a reminiscence of another era, where herbs, medicine, magic and perfume were all intertwined, when incense was burnt to ward off evil spirits, and sweet floral waters were sprinkled to attract good ones...

Back to Apple Orchard: At first, there is an apple-y accord, but with a significant amount of mustiness, which makes you immediately think of the abandoned orchard I describer earlier... Then you are reminded of the fertile soil underneath, forgiving the inattentive farmers and receiving these rejected fruit with open arms. This gradually evolves into the spiciness of oak barrels, with hints of musky opoponax, allspice and cloves.

The perfume is so subtly blended that I could not really discern the notes too well. Also, I could not find the notes anywhere online. But the perfumer herself provided me later with this information as to the perfumes' composition:

Top notes: Galbanum, Blackcurrant Buds, Oregano, Kashmir Lavender, Ginger Lily 
Heart notes: Mango Leaf Absolute, Jasmin Sambac, Champaca, Roses
Base notes: Angelica, Agarwood, Cedarwood, Labdanum, Vetiver, Patchouli, Oakmoss

Anna Zworkyina's Without Words leaves me speechless. But I'll attempt to describe its beauty without relying on other art forms.

Apple-like notes tease at first, but also bring the melancholy feel of fall: it's harvest time. Gather your apples, or you'll risk losing them to mother earth, to whom they will return in rot. The illusion of apples comes from the juxtaposition of bitter almonds, agrestic wormwood and hops - that green, skunky oil that's used to preserve beer and give it the distinctive bitter taste and citrusy-fresh aroma. Cardamom lends a medicinal, camphoreous note that brings to mind a white-washed, silk-wrapped geisha in a dim-lit wooden pagoda, and that dusky feel of Japanese body incense powder remains for a while, until it is quietly succeeded by the undertones of dark amber notes of vanilla and labdanum absolutes.

Top notes: Bitter Almond, Wormwood, Black Pepper, Green Pepper, Cardamom
Heart notes: Rose Attar, Ambrette Seed
Base notes: Vanilla, Patchouli, Vetiver, Labdanum

Chez Noir stands out in Coeur d'Esprit perfumes that I've smelled, with it's very retro, animalic-floral smooth bouquet. What makes this perfume particularly unique is the aging process, something that you don't get to smell much in the fast-paced world. Thanks to several years of maturation (I believe this was created in 2007 and left to mature ever since), and the usage of ambergris, the perfume became very smooth, like a homogenous being with a life of its own. There is a seamless transition from one phase to another, which is the mark of a well-aged perfume. This goes to show you that time is everything in the world of perfume. And that's also the magic of animalic notes, in particular ambergris. You may not smell it in the composition, but it has a unique effect of connecting all the elements together beautifully.

Chez Noir (which I suppose means "Among Black" in French) begins with intriguing licorice accord - the traditional anise is paired with green and sweet tarragon, and piquant cardamom, leading into a smooth floral bouquet of rose, jasmine and ylang ylang in which no particular note stands out, but rather all three flowers give the perfume a put-together, cohesive feel. There is something fruity about it, but not as a syrupy fruit salad, but rather reminiscent of the dried fruit (peach, plum, apricot) you'd find when they just discovered the fruity aldehydes (vintage Femme comes to mind). Following the faux-dried-fruit-phase, a nutty, warm phrase emerges from underneath, hinting at the dry-woody base notes, which converses delicately with the licorice and jasmine.

Licorice is the heart and soul of Chez Noir, with sandalwood in an important supporting role. The sandalwood is rich, warm and spicy. Woody with only a slight hint at lumbar dust. The other striking element is patchouli: a beautifully aged one at that, smooth and musky, without the sharp musty edge that traditionally appeals to those who are trying to mask their pot-smoking habits.

Top notes: Anise, Tarragon, Cardamom
Heart notes: Rose, Jasmine, Ylang Ylang
Base notes: Sandalwood, Patchouli, Labdanum, Ambergris