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Lys Méditerranée


Lys Méditerranée creates the illusion of inhaling a lush Easter lily (AKA Madonna lily), resulting in a pollen-dusted nose. Top notes of lily are followed by the drip of citrus-honey, light and juicy, and a warm, full bodied orange blossom and rose for a touch of pure elegance. The orange blossom makes this particularly cheerful and happy. The dry down is warm, rich and ambery yet somewhat dry with the prominent note being Peru Balsam oil (which is woodier and less sweet than the balsam itself).

The sweetness is intoxicating but never heady, as it releases itself in small spurts of nectar. Lys Méditerranée may start off as innocent as a Madonna Lily but continues on to an almost pornographic nectar-dripping seduction.

Lys Méditerranée was designed by Edouard Fléchier for Frederic Malle Editions de Parfums. Other perfumes by Fléchier: Une Rose for Frederic Malle, Dior's Poison and Tendre Poison, Christian Lacroix C'est La Vie, Montana Parfum de Homme and the reformulation of Montana Parfum de Peau.

Photo: The Secret Life of an Easter Lily courtesy of Steve Kirby.

Mimosaique


Pompones rosa, Fairy duster, originally uploaded by fvaldes.

First of all, the name for this mimosa perfume is genius in my opinion. It is indeed mimosaique rather than pure mimosa. From all the mimosa perfumes I’ve sampled it is the most perfumey. While Mimosa pour Moi is a sheer, leafy twiggy mimosa soliflore, Mimosaique is floral and powdery through and through. More floral than the flowering mimosa is in my opinion. This is in large due to the aldehydes present in this perfume, as well as other floral notes such as jasmine, paired with the powderiness of orris root. The initial aldehydic-perfumey impression wares off after the perfume is worn for a while and the mysterious mimosa note becomes more pronounced, as well as what I suspect to be a sheer yet still powdery musk base.

While I found the perfumey character of Sacrebleu intriguing (as it unfolds into many facets as it develops on the skin) I found Mimosaique to be far less interesting. However, I can see its appeal as a perfume that is equally simple (a soliflore) and sophisticated (the ladylike aldehydic impression).

Mimosaique is said to also include anise note, a note I did not detect in the few times I’ve worn Mimosaique. But alas, my little vial of Mimosaique sprang out of the ziplock envelope I had while traveling and collapsed to the tiled floor where it emptied its content and broke with no repair. I will have to get back to this one for re-sniffing and evaluating. Anise and orris is a combination familiar from the Guerlain heritage, a dynasty Patricia de Nicolai belongs to.

Mimosaique can be purchased directly from the perfumer's website as well as other specialty retailers such as Luckyscent and Beauty Habit.

To read another opinions of Mimosaique, visit Cognoscented.


Mimosa pour Moi

Mimosa pour Moi by l’Artisan Parfumeur is a light yet persistent and long lasting mimosa soliflore. It has the typical cucumber-like mimosa absolute top notes, along with a woody sensation of crushed leaves and branches, and a slightly violet and milky fig-leaf like sting to it that is achieved in part by a subtle use of Cassie absolute (the more wet, woody and deeply penetrating variety of mimosa I’ve mentioned in my recent post). The base is sweet with a sheer vanilla accord. Overall, Mimosa pour Moi is characterized by a watery-woody floralcy and subtle powdery and milky-green woodiness. It reminds me quite a bit of a few Olivia Giacobetti's creations - Philosykos, Premier Figuier, and Ofresia. Yet, the nose behind Mimosa pour Mois is Anne Flipo, who is also the nose behind Verte Violette and Ananas Fizz.

It is not, by any means a “pure” mimosa, but rather an abstract rendition of the idea of this fuzzy flower. Just like the illustration on the l’Artisan labels.

Kyoto, Pagoto Kaimaki and Mastic


Mastic Pudding, originally uploaded by binnur.

In a deserted boulevard at night time in an Arab city, lit by neon street lights, a peculiar company of adults and children were lining up in search for a lost treasure: Gleeda Mastic. The chill of the dessert rolling on the tongue released a strange flavour, familir to the adults who longed for it for years on end; and a new, unforgettable experience to their youngsters who they dragged in their azure-blue Jeep in those streets one summer night in search for a childhood dream from an era long gone.

Comme des Garcons' Series 3: Incense is perhaps one of the most haunting of their entire collection. Amongst the heavily fumed smokes of Avignon and Zagorsk hides a little treasure of sheer light and icy pleasures – Kyoto.

Although it is said to be inspired by Japanese incense ceremonies (Kodo), and named after Japan’s ancient city that cultivates the Japanese traditions of ceremonial arts, Kyoto to me means one thing: “Gleeda Mastic”, meaning Mastic Ice Cream. In Greece this is called Pagoto Kaimaki. The same bush that I have raved about in my last post produces a fragrant gum, transparent pale yellow, brittle and fragile that can be readily powdered to flavour ice cream, puddings and sometimes accompany Sahleb.

Kyoto by Commes de Garcon in a delightful incense scent, that smells more like a steam bath with green leaves than burning and smoke. Although has no mastic listed as a note (according to LuckyScent, it contains notes of incense, cypress oil, coffee, teak wood, vetiver, patchouli, amber, everlasting flower, Virginian cedar), it smells exactly like the resin: sweet-balsamic, fresh, woody-resinous and almost pine-like but less sharp, with hints reminiscent of frankincense yet far less heavy, and a hint of greenness as well. And of course there is the unmistakable “Mastic” odour that has to be experienced on its own, either in the delicious Meditterranean desserts, or simply from the resin itself, which can be easily obtained in most Greek grocery stores. My nose detects also underlining notes of cedar and white musk, but Mastic is definitely the star of the show.

Grand Amour


Pistacia lentiscus_redimensionar, originally uploaded by PacoBellido.

From the first second I smelled Grand Amour, I knew I could not remain indifferent to this perfume. It reminded me instantly of the bushes of mastic where I used to hide as a little girl: either from friends and siblings while playing hide and seek; or from greater horrors imposed on little children by the adults of the world. The scent of the mastic bushes is unique and unmistakable. And although mastic is not mentioned as a note in this perfume from Annick Goutal – the precise makeup of this particular perfume creates the impression of the scent released from the crushed crisp leaves between little fingers of a child hiding in the dense evergreen bushes.

The gum or resin from this bush is the same “mastic” which is used to flavour baked sweets and ice creams in the Middle East and Greece (more about this later). The Latin name of this bush is Pistacia Lentiscus, and it is from the pisttachio family. In ancient times it was used to create a chewing substance (mastic is chewing gum in Arabic and Hebrew), and it is also used as a medicine and a spice. A synthetic substance with similar chemical makeup is created especially for the chewing gum industry.

For those who are unfamiliar with the aroma of mastic, and particularly that of the raw leaves, I would try to describe it as it is in Grand Amour: it is green yet not like grass or leaves, sappy, but not resinous, and with an undercurrent of powdery warmth, while releasing a gently and evenly floral aroma in such manner that no particular flower stands out. It also resembles Chamade in some ways, though I detect none of the galbanum, oakmoss or vanilla notes that are so prominent in Chamade. Perhaps it is the hyacinth, a note that appears in both perfumes.

When I discovered Grand Amour some two or three years ago at The Bay in Vancouver, I immediately lavished myself in it carelessly in excess that can be only explained by my excitement. I was not able to enjoy it very much, the memory of those evergreen childhood hideaways brought a throat-clenching sensation, like the one that visits us just before bursting into inexplicable, shameful tears. I neglected the fantasy of wearing Grand Amour, but haven’t completely given up. I took a vial with me on my trip to Israel this spring, and decided to wear it in the natural environment and compare it to the live bush. I was right about their similarity. But imagine my surprise when I managed to enjoy the juice for three days straight while staying at my Mom’s place, surrounded by the bushes and the spring blooming greenery. In Hebrew we say “Meshane makom, meshane mazal” which means, that when you change location or place, your luck might change too. So true for perfume.

This review is for the Eau de Toilette, which is lovely in my opinion except for the fact that it is not extremely long lasting when dabbed. When sprayed the performance is excellent. The official notes (per the Annick Goutal website) are lily, hyacinth, honeysuckle, Turkish rose, amber, musk and myrtle.



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