<
s
c

s
Home / SmellyBlog / Tagged: Vetiver

SmellyBlog

Sel de Vetiver

The concept of using minerals as a theme in perfume is relatively new. Although there are distinct mineral notes in perfumes such as Aqua Allegoria Pampeloune (Sulfur) and l’Eau d’Issey (Chlorine), the mineral presence in these fragrances was kept hush-hush only to be noticed by the keen noses; Yet the Elena family seems to be taking this concept into a whole different direction, spearheading the elemental or mineral movement in perfumery, with Sel de Vetiver by Celine Elena (Salt) and Terre d’Hermes by Jean-Claude Elena (Flint) and in general by their minimalist approach that is more mineral than organic.

Sel de Vetiver (Vetiver Salt) from The Different Company meant to evoke the barely-there scent of ocean salt on a sun warmed skin. Although I can understand the salty reference and association with vetiver, warm it is not. Rather, it’s a cool, dusty vetiver with a clean earthy presence. It may recall the gritty, ground-sea-shells sand, salt sticking to driftwood and the rough dryness of skin that was soaked and masked with mud, salt and sulfur for too long. But it does not quite smell like salt or skin.


Sel de Vetiver opens with an astringent, clean accord of grapefruit, ginger and a hint of cardamom that reminds me roasted dark coffee more than the spice itself. I can smell hints of ylang ylang, but they are not obvious at all, being rather heady and fleeting. Other notes that are mentioned are orris and geranium, but I can’t say I was aware of their presence at any given point. Vetiver and refined patchouli (smells more like a patchouli isolate rather than the full-bodied oil) step in pretty fast and dominate Sel de Vetiver for most of its life on the skin – the sweet, clean scent of these two earthy essences combined.

Top notes: Grapefruit, Ginger, Cardamom
Heart notes: Ylang Ylang, Geranium Bourbon, Orris
Base notes: Vetiver, Patchouli

Vetiver Noir


Cuppa Coffee and Jack, originally uploaded by CaymanGirl.

One of the most original vetiver accords I’ve smelled is Black Vetyver Café by Jo Malone. I was so impressed with this imaginative combination, yet hoped the coffee note will linger longer. Given that coffee note is a heart note and not a base note dictates that it cannot last for too long on the skin. But in Black Vetyver Café it is more of a top note than a heart note and disappears really fast, leaving behind mostly woody vetyver. Therefore, I simply could not resist the temptation to try my hand at combining these two essences in their natural form – black coloured just like the dark-roasted coffee beans and vetiver oils from around the world in different proportions.

I decided to go wild with earthy vetiver varieties from India, including the co-distillation with Mitti Attar. The pungency and the earthiness and a hint of brash greenness seems to provide an interesting counter point to the coffee. And also by staying away from the “woody” I was hoping to create something different, albeit not original (Jo Malone deserves all the credit for thinking of this combination!). Indonesian vetiver adds a rough smoky touch, and the wild Indian vetiver oil (Ruh Khus) adds a sweetness that is well rounded and complex. To this I added nutmeg absolute. There is something about nutmeg absolute that just works so well with vetiver. It’s so sweet and rich (not like the oil, which is quite sharp and peppery!). It adds warmth to the sweet yet cool earthiness of vetiver. I could barely resist the temptation to sneak in a few drops of cardamom CO2, which goes so fantastically with coffee. But I don’t like to repeat myself.

I am really enjoying this vetiver mod. Perhaps it is not my favourite so far of all the three, but I feel I am getting somewhere in exploring the possibilities that vetiver has to offer. Hopefully by the end of this journey I will come up with something that I can truly call my own vetiver.

I like the complexity in this scent, even though it only has three elements: vetiver, coffee and nutmeg. It is earthy-sweet and warm, and feels rooty and almost edible without being obviously spicy or sweet. I am wondering what would happen if I chose a more mellow vetiver as a pivotal point, maybe the Sri-Lankan oil. Or add another woody element such as patchouli, or sandalwood or agarwood. Yet I think I should be trying a new mod before drawing any conclusions. In fact, I much rather keep blending vetiver-dominated scents and discovering the interaction between vetiver and other notes. It’s a fascinating study and it really should never end.

Samples of Vetiver Noir, Vetiver Blanc and Wilde Vetyver (Khus Khus) are available for you to try, you can get all three samples for $15 including shipping world wide. Just email me and let me know, or simply PayPal me and I will ship it to you immediately.

Vetiver Fans for Vetiver Fans


Vetiver Fan, originally uploaded by Ayala Moriel.


Marcia Elston from Samara Botane kindly sent me a lovely Vetiver Fan. This is going to be a must have for all vetiver fans, pun intended!
The fan is weaved from vetiver rootlets and surrounded by an outline of firmer branches to hold up its shape. It is recommended to use during the hot summer days after sprinkling it with water or better yet - vetiver hydrosol.

I will be taking this with me on my travel to warmer parts of the world so I can report on the effectiveness of combating heat. A real challenge.

To order your own vetiver fan, contact Marcia.

Vétiver Oriental



桃...だと思う:peach...may be, originally uploaded by lenny_kox.

Perhaps the title of this post should be “expectations” rather than the name of the perfume I am abouit to review. From a consumer’s point of view, expectations are perhaps one of the most dangerous things that can happen in the perfume world. Be it the posters, commercials, ad copy, reviews by fellow perfume addicts, or a simply stunning bottle – the final decision is in the juice, or as they say it “the proof is in the pudding”. However, this decision is often so wildly affected by the previous mentioned marketing maneuvers and peer pressure, that proportions are all lost once the moment of truth (i.e.: sniffing) arrives.

In my Vetiver Marathon, I was hoping to find interesting treatments of this unusual yet humble note. I started with what I thought was one of the classics – Guerlain’s Vetiver. Yes, it is citrusy. But it definitely smells like vetiver. I was hoping to find other perfumes that take vetiver to the forefront yet shed a new light, provide a refreshing angle. It seems that the more “adventurous” and “avant-garde” the vetiver I try – the further it is from the “truth” of vetiver. To my nose, anyways; so do feel free to disagree.

Vétiver Oriental starts up woody and peachy, with notes of Virginian cedarwood, Sandalwood, Atlas cedarwood and a hint of peach. This last note make it smell very much like a wooden-version of the plump, juicy oriental Asja by Fendi.

The heart develops a more powdery, dusted-sweet presence with orris and cocoa, which is quite similar to Dior Homme. But while Dior Homme offered a surprising, almost cutting-edge presence in a (recently) predictable and mostly uninspiring mainstream line, Vetiver Oriental pales like a shy speechless odour in comparison to the richness and bold statements of its peers (i.e.: Arabie, Fumerie Turque and Muscs Kublai Khan).

It is only in the late heart-notes phase that the aroma of vetiver emerges, still very subtly – it is nutty, roasted and sweet. It emerges for a very brief time, and is not particularly pronounced either, reminding me for a glimpse of grace f the roasted-sesame notes in Vetiver Tonka. I even thought for a second that I got a hint of roasted coffee (another hint for a vetiver I am biased towards, this time Jo Malone's Black Vetyver Cafe), but it puffed away and kept mumbling the same lame fake sandalwood tune, dusted with pleasant and agreeable woody sweetness like a rice-powder makeup in peach hues worn on cheeks suspended in an artificial smile.

I am sorry to say that as much as this scent is wearable and pleasant, it fails to excite me at all. I find myself disappointed over and over again by scents that have more vetiver in the name than in the formula. Whatever vetiver is left in Vétiver Oriental is so prettified and peached that it looses most of its appeal for me by the time the vetiver finally makes an appearance. It does so in the end, accentuating the sweetness of vetiver rather than its earthiness or the green freshness that the roots so brilliantly offer all at once in a harmonious contradiction that is reserved to Nature alone. In the dry down it is so similar to Dior Homme that I feel tempted to nickname it Dior Femme: a lacy garment weaved of bleached and peach-hued vetiver rootlets dusted with powdered sugar and makeup...

Top notes: Virginian Cedarwood, Peach
Heart notes: Atlas Cedarwood, Sandalwood, Orris, Cocoa
Base notes: Vetiver, Oakmoss

I’ve been longing to try Vétiver Oriental for a long time. From all I’ve read about it, it sounded like a scent that I had to try. Thanks to Lee who sent me a generous sample, I was able to taste this pudding; a peach pudding if to be precise. I hope the above review does not sound ungrateful, which I truly am. I could have never known it unless I tried it thanks to your generousity. May it serve as a reminder to us all to us all to always test before we buy, instead of relying on perfume reviews in SmellyBlog or otherwise!

If you want to read the complete opposite of my views of this fragrance, you can read this review.

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.

Back to the top