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Opium

When Yves Saint Laurent released Opium in 1977, he didn’t really invent anything new. By that time, women and men have both been exposed to the concept of a dry, spicy oriental that captures the senses to the point of tingling numbness. Tabu in 1932 unleashed the concept of a forbidden concoction of spices over a dry animalic base of patchouli and civet. And 20 years later an innocent bath oil called Youth Dew created a dangerous stir of feminine independence with its deadly dose of both eugenol and indole.

What YSL did do was take the concept of the dry oriental and re-package and re-brand it as a drug. Although there is the element of seduction of the other sex in most of the ads I’ve seen, for the most part Opium ads played on the seduction of oneself, by the perfume itself. The bottle was designed as a vessel for potent drug (taking it’s inspiration from both Chinese opium snuff bottles and Samurai Inro), and I can’t think of any other instances when I actually identified with the look on the actress’s face after anointing her skin with this liquid: her eyes closed as she is transported by heavy sedation I can already sense her heartbeats slowing down and the dulled pain of lost love replaced by hallucinations:



I suppose there was no better time for Opium than the end of the 70’s, by than substance abuse has become pretty much socially acceptable by a large part of the Western culture (at least when it came to cannabis) But all the same managed to create quite a controversy, and have continued to do so even recently (2000), with the ad starring Sophie Dahl in a very revealing attire (she’s wearing nothing but gold stilettos) posing in a manner that probably made those who opposed it to think she’s been just drugged and can be taken advantage of by whomever happen to pass by. By the way, am I the only one who sees the similarity to the poster of the movie "Perfume"?



Opium as a perfume created a doorway between the past and into the (than) future of loud powerhouse perfumes of the 80’s (Poison included); and to prove my point here is Linda Evangelista armed with shoulder pads while shopping for Opium in a Chinese market:



And as a scent it is indeed seductive to the point of being sedative. That can be related to the overdose of eugenol, a molecule that is present in clove and is in part responsible for the anesthetic properties of this spice. The spices used are ancient and their concentration is so high that it could come across as medicinal. In fact, I have heard someone was using Opium body lotion to relieve arthritis pain (do consult your doctor first if you intend to rely on Opium to cure your ailments!).

I have to admit that my Opium substance abuse is pretty limited to the “Opium Lite” of the summer versions, Fleur de Shanghai being one of my all-time favourite perfumes.
Opium in its parfum form (which is what I am reviewing here) can be likened to a smoldering smoke of incense and spices and a thick chai tea. It opens with clove buds stuck in the peel of dried orange, familiar like a pomander and intensely so. Pimento berries also add a more complex aspect to the mostly-eugenolic character of the opening; pepper suggests dryness and cinnamon adds sweetness.

The heart notes are floral, most notably orange blossom and carnation. But to say the heart feels floral would be an exaggeration. Although jasmine, rose and ylang ylang are present, they are hidden behind plenty of carnation and more cloves; the floral notes in this oriental in particular have the role of smoothing things out without sticking out or showing their true colours.

The underlying resins are what make Opium stand apart from Tabu and Youth Dew though; if Tabu concentrated on the patchouli and vetiver and Youth Dew is all about indole and eugenol (even more civet than in Tabu) – Opium returns to the cradle of perfume civilization by using a large proportion of opoponax with its powdery, animalic and resinous-sweet qualities, backed up by the dry and sweet bitterness of myrrh and the woody-dry qualities of patchouli. There is a touch of sweetness that is never overly done originated in vanilla and benzoin resin. Both notes serve to accentuate the hint of sweetness present in opoponaz and myrrh. There is no animalic element here that I’m aware of. The pairing of eugenol and resins creates a deep reaction, perhaps connected to the history of incense and Chinese herbal medicine which is quite appropriate with the name borrowing from one of the most ancient and potent drugs used in human history (it was used as far back as in the Sumerian civilization, which is also the oldest civilization to have used incense).

And what’s more interesting - Opium could have easily been an all-natural perfume. Despite the fact that it does include synthetics, it is entirely the natural notes that create the “Opium” character – neither the aldehydes nor the coumarin are responsible for that unique effect.




Top notes: Clove, Pepper, Pimento, Orange

Heart notes: Carnation, Orange Blossom, Jasmine, Rose, Ylang Ylang

Base notes: Opoponax, Myrrh, Patchouli, Benzoin, Vanilla








And last but not least is this irresistible spoof ad. It is only now after Yves Saint Laurent's death I understand that perhaps the choice for the name of this perfume is a little more personal than I thought before. It is more than just probable that he has chosen to draw from his own life experience and give it a different interpretation, through fragrance (And Kate Moss is notorious for several other things besides being the queen of perfume ads over the past 2 decades... I simply couldn't resist posting this!). In the context of addiction and drug abuse, perfume has a very harmless role, even if easily suggestive of both seduction and addiction by the mere fact that is usually applied to the pulse points and ultimately inhaled afterwards.

Of Silage, Space and Earth

If Kelly Caleche is the more available counterpoint of Rose Ikebana, Terre d'Hermès mirrors Hermessence’s Vetiver Tonka – albeit far less nutty and sweet. This of course could be a good thing if you dislike the gourmand references of Vetiver Tonka (roasted hazelnuts, dried fruit and cereal notes) I have to say it’s interesting to see the increased usage of this note in perfumery, both niche and mass-marketed. Surely there are some economical factors involved: vetiver is a cheap and renewable resource, providing a precious wood aroma that is dirt-cheap in comparison to notes from the same category. Yet to me it seems like a trend that reflects in part the movement towards healing of the earth as well as its earth dwellers, vetiver being a scent that evokes tranquility and a sense of well-being. Vetiver also helps the environment – not only by protecting lands from erosion (especially in areas prone to floods); the plant has a way of sucking toxins from the earth and purifying or filtering them, resulting in a cleaner environment.

That being said, the name of the fragrance at hand is quite appropriate: it has enough vetiver in it to deep it earthy. Terre d'Hermès has the very Elena-esque way of excuding sophistication by way of having a lot of space within it. Almost as if fearing that adding too much décor to the space will result in a lesser impression of how expensive that mansion was. Better leave it empty and maintain the wow factor… It’s hard to “read” any of Jean-Claude Elena’s recent scents without noticing the element of status flying off their “pages”. Aside from the great breath of air that each provides, status is perhaps the most dominant “note” in the composition. It’s a quality that is hard to put the finger on its exact source but you just feel is there.

Terre d'Hermès opens both citrusy and peppery; peppery perhaps in a similar way to Poivre Samarkand. The enormous amount of space between the notes makes it difficult to discern and at certain point even notice. Although it does morph slightly, it does not change its mood from one phase to the others and doesn’t really hold big surprises in the end. Vetiver emerges pretty early, once the citrus and pepper calm down a bit. It starts cool and only would warm up very little by the end there is even a glimpse of moss. But more importantly than any particular note, it can be described as being at once dry, fresh, cool and salty, which is what gives it its edge and ultimate appeal.

It feels invisible or sheer when smelled close to the skin, barely detectable. Yet the fragrance certainly creates a noticeable silage that can be detected from afar (by others, not the wearers); which is something I find strange. Perhaps I’m prejudiced, but there is something about it that, just like other scents by Elena, leaves me cold. Perhaps I am too stuck on the classical perfume structures, where the intertwining notes lead us from one chapter to the next (intriguing opening and than gradual unraveling of the components, revealing the core and than the base). While this does happen in Elena’s scents, it happens at a different pace than that which I’m familiar or feel at home in. The changes are subtle and vastly spaced, a phenomenon that I have first observed and was able to appreciate in non other than Roudnistaks’ Le Parfum de Therese

As a perfumer I may not feel at ease with Elena’s cerebral approach; and from the personal-taste aspect I may feel foreign to his uber-elegant, minimalist, abstract style (Vetiver Tonka is perhaps the only fragrance he created that I wear). However, I have to say to his credit that he does make one think. Maybe perfumes don’t need to conjure any strong emotions. Maybe they don’t need to always be directly connected to exotic locales. Maybe a perfume can just be a perfume and be nearly entirely foreign and detached from the collective consciousness, thus creating something new and enter it from a different angle.

Top notes: Grapefruit, Orange, Pepper, Pink Pepper
Heart notes: Flint, Mineral notes, Cedarwood
Base notes: Vetiver, Patchouli, Benzoin, Oakmoss

You may be interested to read other reviews of Terre d’Hermès, which were of course written when the scent was new and fresh, when I was busy ignoring it and the hype around it. I found it interesting to read the reviews now in comparison to my impressions and see how each reviewer had at least one thing in common and one thing different to say about this fragrance:
Bois de Jasmin
Now Smell This
Scentzilla

Image credits: Both are screenshots that I took from Hermes' commercial video for Terre d'Hermes. It's one of those rare instances where the commercial actually does fit the feel of the fragrance.

Un Jardin Après la Mousson


A new kid arrived to the designer block in Vancouver (Burrard @ Alberni): Un Jardin Après la Mousson, turning the recurring Hermes garden theme into a trilogy. Three reasons lead me to try it out today:
Knowing that it’s not widely available makes me feel obligated to try it for all of those who can’t; The division in opinions as per the reviews on MUA (although there are only 4 for now) peaked my curiousity – making it look like a love-or-hate scent; And finally, the very hot weather in the last couple of days, which made it an ideal condition for a Jean-Claude Ellena scent that is said to include some “cool spices”.

I visited the Hermes boutique this afternoon, right after getting out of the swimming pool into the very hot and humid Vancouver air (a rare phenomenon, if I may add). Perfect time to try one of Ellena’s scents, which are known for their subtle silage.

Un Jardin Après la Mousson stroke me at first as yet another peppery-dry Elena scent (similar to recent creations, such as Osmanthe Yunnan, Paprika Brazil and Kelly Caleche). It seemed indistinct in that context for the first 2 seconds. And than came a surprise (well, not quite surprising because earlier reviews of the scent suggested note in that direction; yet still the effect was quite strange): this is neither watermelon nor melon, but rather – a ripe, juicy cantaloupe. Think of what it would smell like if you were just popping a fresh slice of Trident’s Watermelon Twist sugarfree gum into your mouth while spraying Omsanthe Yunnan all over yourself and you’ll understand just exactly what I’m talking about (Alternatively, try Bvlgari’s Eau Parfumee Au The Vert, if you can’t get a hold of Osmanthe Yunnan for this curious experiment).

I have to admit I'm a bit puzzled by the commitment to fruity notes throughout the "Jardin Trio" (green fig in Un Jardin de Mediterrane; green mango in un Jardin Sur le Nil; and now the ripe cantaloupe in Un Jardin Après la Mousson). Oddly enough, I found myself enjoying this cantaloupe note today, in this context. It was out of place but somehow, but it worked. Perhaps it is just the sun stroke talking, and tomorrow I will sober up (I don’t remember myself ever going gaga over any other melony scent besides Le Parfum de Therese, and the cantaloupe here is an olfactory caricature of the fruit).

The cantaloupe note does not linger for very much longer, and we move back into a vague floral and spicy territory. I’ve never smelled ginger flower before so the fact I didn’t recognize it at the heart means nothing. I can’t even say I smell any floral note at the heart. The abstract veil of cool spices is what predominates, fresh ginger and dusty pepper in particular; and whatever it is in the base that maintains it on the skin shares a something with vetiver as it is indeed cooling.

Like so many of Elena’s creations, Un Jardin Après la Mousson can be described as sparse, sheer, thin, gauze or veil-like and abstract. If you are not a fan of this style or approach you probably will not enjoy it very much. As much as I try to appreciate scents like that (and grew to be able to enjoy them for my personal use on several occasions), I find it very foreign to me and my flamboyant and dramatic Mediterranean upbringing. Something in me always searches for something deeper at the root of the scent; and in Elena’s perfumes I can’t find that, which results in me feeling like I’m hanging in mid-air like a big question mark awaiting and answer that will never come.

Top notes: Pepper, Ginger, Coriander, Cantaloupe
Heart notes: Ginger Flower
Base notes: Vetiver

The scent is available in a variety of forms (including a limited edition dry oil), in Hermes boutiques around the world.

Want to read what others think of this fragrance? Visit:
Now Smell This
Perfume Shrine
Bois de Jasmin
Scent Signals
The Scented Salamander

Natural Joy, Organic Bliss


Bliss, originally uploaded by Dave Ward Photography.

After long procrastination, I have finally got my hands on some samples of Rich Hippie’s perfumes, thanks to a kind swapper via MUA. While Utopia left me only slightly uplifted from my current state (yuzu has the ability to do that to you) ; and Nirvana left me numbly bored – Wild Thing was the one to grab my attention, instantly (and no, it was not because of its steep price point). Wild Thing is as close as a natural perfume ever got to Patou’s infamous “Joy” (at its time bearing the slogan of being "the most expensive perfume in the world”). But the two have more in common than their high price. They both celebrate the luscious beauty of jasmine and rose. In Wild Thing, there is hardly anything else (a little bit of citrus at the opening, and a very subtle orris note). The rose almost gets lost in the bush of sultry, penetrating jasmine. The indole is intoxicating and beautiful. Almost outrageously so. Wild thing is a rich (pun intended) but not overpowering kind of floral and while very animalistic it is never repulsively so. Despite the fact that there is no civet at the base to my knowledge (which is what makes Joy parfum slightly “dirty”) – you get a similar vibe from the dry down of Wild Thing – it’s always jasminey and quite long lasting; though I can’t really tell what is it in the base that make it linger so long (no particular note stands out enough to be noticed, aside from the rose and the jasmine; and whatever iris there is there – it is very subtle, which makes me wonder if it is not used merely as a fixative). To the flower girl within me, Wild Thing is pure bliss and thankfully it is not in the least “hippie”.

On a completely other note, being a by-product of the hippie era myself, I can’t say I am particularly thrilled by the names or the concept of the Rich Hippie line. There are plenty of things that deeply irritate me when I read the website that have nothing to do with my personal taste (or with my lack of fondness of the brand’s paradoxical name): the perfume-history inaccuracies, the scare tactics, and last but not least – the inconsistency in regards to the quality or grade of the materials used (i.e. what is organic). The bottles are all labeled as “Organic Perfume”, yet in the list of notes, sometimes the same notes are listed as organic and sometimes they aren’t. My conclusion is that the alcohol is most likely organic, while maybe some of the essences could be organically grown (especially when listed that way) but many I suspect aren’t. Of course, the overall mystery around the subject contributes to the justification of the higher price point This brings a whole new issue which was brought up to me today: the definitions of “natural” and “organic” product, when referring to perfumes.

Recently, several new health-food-store distributed lines of fragrances were launched , branching out from aromatherapy into the real of “natural” or “organic” fragrances. Theoretically, it’s nice to see this happening – natural fragrances becoming more popular and being semi-mass-marketed. However, we are back to square one in terms of truth in labeling and advertising. Why? Because what makes these products “organic” is not necessarily the fragrance they are made of but the carrier. In order for a product to be certified organic, it needs to be made 95% certified organic components; and it can be labeled as “made with organic ingredients” if it uses at least 70% organic ingredients. The remaining 30% is easily open to interpretations, and could, for example – in the case of perfume – mean that the alcohol base is organic alcohol (usually grain or grape alcohol); but the remaining 30%, where the scent actually comes from, could easily be not organically grown, not to mention – it could even include synthetic molecules. Keeping in mind that the alcohol stays on the skin only for a few second, I am afraid I’m not particularly impressed! In other words – read the label and ingredient list very carefully before you fool yourself to thinking you are using an organic product.

As a flower-child’s daughter, I was brought up in an organic village, and I can tell you quite a bit about what organic farming is, and what is required for any crop to be considered organic. To put it simply, the crops must be:
Not genetically modified or engineered (aka non GMO)
Grown with no pesticides or herbicides
Grown with no chemical fertilizers
Grown within a reasonable distance from pollution sources (i.e.: other farms that use pesticides and herbicides)

In other words, the crops should be grown as pure as possible from any chemical or biological human interventions. To ensure that, most countries have their own body that certifies organic farms and companiess adhering to these standards. To be certified organic the farm must be assessed by a third party that will look at those factors and certify the produce or the products of that farm with the organization’s seal. The seal of approval can be also found on other products, such as prepared foods, cosmetics, cleaning products and body products.

On another note, I am yet to find a jasmine absolute that is certified organic. In fact, the mere act of extracting absolute from a plant is non-organic as it requires the use of synthetic solvents (only traces of which will be found in the absolute). Some even argue that absolutes are not natural (and I will discuss more of that in a future post, tomorrow). The groves of jasmine are sparse in the world and I haven’t heard of an organic one as of yet. Citrus and herbs are more easy to find organically, but the flower essences for the most part are very challenging. If you know of a source I would be happy to get that information from you …

I would be very curious to hear from anyone here who owns an original bottle from this line if there is any seal to attest to its certified organicness.

As you can see, the definition of “organic” is quite ambiguous, perhaps even more so than the definition of “natural”. If you want to further investigate here are two interesting links on the topic:

SkinCare @ Lovetoknow.com
PioneerThinking.com
HallGold.com


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