Today I wore Rive Gauche for the first time. Despite the many good things I’ve heard about it I was never drawn to it. Perhaps it was the plain, matter-of-factly canister in which it is stored; or it may be the fact that adehydic florals, even the most iconic ones, are not exactly my style. I’m ashamed to admit that it has never managed to cross the scent-strip barrier and concur my wrist until YSL’s death and this humble tribute I’m paying him on SmellyBlog.

Rive Gauche is the name of the Left Bank of the Sienne river which divides the city of Paris to the northern “right bank” and the southern “left bank”. This area is considered one of the most romantic and artistic areas of Paris, which was home to artists such as Picasso and Matisse, writers Hemingway and Fiztgerald and of course the infamous existentialists – Sartre and my favourite of them all, the writer, composer, lyricist, engineer, jazz musician and existentialist Boris Vian.

The perfume by this name was created in 1970, 4 years after YSL has invented the “ready-to-wear” concept with his “Rive Gauche” line, which was first sold in his Rive Gauche boutique. By creating this line YSL has made fashion available to everyone and many will argue that this has changed the world in more ways than there is space here right now.

The perfume is a chic and classy aldehydic floral with a cool woody base surrounding mostly Haitian vetiver. Aside from vetiver, I can’t descern any particular note a they are all very well blended in a way that characterizes many French perfumes from the 1940’s and 1950’s. It starts with a hint of green and gives off an aldehydic floral roundness. I can’t say any of the florals stands out in particular, except perhaps for the rose. And it is still a rather cool rose. The base is where the theme of the perfume resides – mostly with Haitian vetiver as I mentioned earlier, with its cool and tart presence that feels clean and cozy, furnished and outdoorsy all at once. Sandalwood is another note that is quite dominant (perhaps this is the reason why Rive Gauche to resembles Bois des Iles, even if just a tad) and later on the bitterness of tonka bean creeps in, almost convincing me that I’m actually smelling a Guerlinade.

While I appreciate the fact that Rive Gauche is well made and like the fact that the emphasis is on the jus rather than the packaging (that being said, the thought that went into the packaging is significant and makes a fashion statement in its utilitarian approach – it was designed to be easy to pack into a suitcase; a real advantage for the adventurous, traveling career woman – the perfect fashion accessory to go with Le Smoking). Perhaps if it was a tad more dry I would have liked it more; but than again, the scent I’m reviewing is most likely the reformulated version. If you know anything about how what was more original about the original Rive Gauche, please do leave a comment.

The notes according to the Perfume Addict database:

Top notes: Aldehydes, Bergamot, Greens, Peach
Heart notes: Magnolia, Jasmine, Gardenia, Geranium, Iris, Ylang-ylang, Rose, Lily of the Valley
Base notes: Mysore Sandalwood, Haitian Vetiver, Tonka Bean, Musk, Moss, Amber

Happy Sahvuot/Bikurim/Hag Matan Torah!

The day was mostly spent baking while the evening was spent celebrating with friends and eating the fruit of my labour - blinztes, cheescake and cheese and wine of course. It's a cheesy holiday ;)

For those not in the know, Shavuot occurs 7 weeks after Passover, which is when Moses got down from Mount Sinai with the Torah and gave it to the people of Israel. It also coincides with the beginning of the wheat harvest season and celebrates the first crops of summer - hence the first fruit, vegetables, wheat and the infant stock animals would be brought as offering to the temple when it was still standing. Nowadays, what we just stay up late for Tikkun Leil Shavuot and/or eat cheese...

As far as fragrance goes - since the weather was so un-summery and inappropriate for the holiday (at this time of the year in Israel it's unbearably hot and the air is full of little black flies that were disturbed from their home inside the wheat straw stems) I wore my interpretation of In A Station of the Metro which reminded me of the beginning of spring when the weather is mostly gloomy and is only cheered up by the presence of myriads of pink cherry blossoms.

Kouros is one of those powerhouse perfumes of the 80’s that seem to divide people and rarely gets a lukewarm reaction. The only exception is my brother: all he’s got to say about it was “it’s nice”. Perhaps the fact that he likes dosing in limitless amounts of Old Spice on a daily basis might explain a thing or two.

Kouros is unmistakably sexual and it’s impossible for me to see it in any other way. Without smelling literally of sex (as in “Magnificent Secretions”), it is dead-on rough, raw, dirty outdoor sex smell.

I first tried Kouros over a year ago and found it too potent for the time so I stayed away from it for a while. Today, coming back to it to continue my tribute week to YSL I immediately remembered what Katie of Scentzilla said about Poison and the word “humping” kept popping into my mind uncontrollably. Another thing that I couldn’t help thinking about was the orgy scene of Pan in Jitterbug Perfume. Kouros doesn’t just dry-hump your leg, it goes all the way even if uninvited, half animal and half human, it gets all messy and is not in the least apologetic about it either.

The notes are not easy to isolate in my mind and there is not much literature about it on the internet either. The most comprehensive list of notes can be found on Bois de Jasmin (and I don’t know what’s the source for it, neither can I pin point all of these notes either). So I’ll offer you as usual my attempt at describing the evolution of the fragrance as objectively as possible (if it ever is).

Kouros opens with an expansive array of notes that are at once herbaceous, spicy and sharp (and might be perceived as “fresh” by some). There is a sense of familiarity at first, resemblence to perhaps another masculine perfume (it could be either English Leather or Tabac Original – I could not find my references as some of my perfumes had to be temporarily stored away, so will have to check later) but at the same time it is nearly unbearably potent as well as awkward. Something about it makes me think of the original Chypre compositions, those made in the island of Cyprus from a mix of dried herbs and a paste of oakmoss and labdanum and resins. The notes are all very well blended as they have coupled with each other and have lost their distinct identities. I can sense the presence of familiar Mediterranean mountain herbs such as sage and perhaps bay leaf or rosemary, lavender and wormwood. The spices I cannot make out but one note is distinctively present – the intensely animalic fragrance of honey combs of dark, rich honey from wild thorny flowers with the scent of propolis still lingering in. It is almost sickeningly sweet and medicinal at the same time. Another note that stands out is that of labdanum, a resinous, ambery oleoresin from the rockrose bushes (also grown on the Mediterranean mountains and hillsides) and a pulsating undercurrent of costus, with its musky goat-like horns that is perhaps the reason why Pan jumps into the picture. As the perfume settles on the skin, the honey and labdanum get rounder and warmer, and the spices and herbs calm down and let go of their sharpness. Indolic notes take the stage with jasmine and civet being the most prominent and only hingts or rose-geranium that give it a more complex, perfumey bouquet. There is also a hint of dryness at the base, though still animalic, from what I believe to be a tobacco note. The drydown is mostly honeyed-ambery yet with the animalic aspect still in place and some dryness of oakmoss and tobacco. Overall, Kouros is sunny, heavy, spicy Chypre reminiscent of blood and sweat.

Top notes: Sage, Bay Leaf, Wormwood, Lavender
Heart notes: Honey, Jasmine, Rose Geranium
Base notes: Labdanum, Costus, Musk, Civet, Tobacco, Patchouli