Amouage - Interlude Man and Interlude Woman

Amouage is pretty great, I think we can all agree on that, and if we don't agree then I am very sorry but you are mistaken; and as proof I submit Interlude Man and Interlude Woman, two more in a long string of Amouage successes.

Let's start with the not-totally-batshit-insane one. Interlude Man is perhaps the best smoke fragrance I've ever smelled. By Amouage standards this is somewhat linear: there's a mild sweetness in the top, like sweet tobacco smoke, and then it's on to the very long-lasting and exceptionally realistic smoky drydown. If I find it a tad shy of true greatness that may be because it's not as odd or striking as the best Amouages, but this is very good and very well done.

Okay then so let's talk about Interlude Woman next, and holy fuck what is this? All of the weirdness that is missing from Interlude Man is here in spades, in double spades. Amouage claims this is the smell of chaos and boy howdy they are correct. The first time I smelled it I hated it. But then it kept creeping into my mind and I kept putting it on over and over again, trying to figure out how it works, this ungainly angular contraption made of fruit and coffee and incense and something sharp that I can't decipher. Now I own a full bottle of it and I still can't figure it out. There's an almost Lutensian sweetness in the top notes which can be very bad if done wrong (I am not a fan of Lutens in general) but here it stays just on the right side of grotesquery. Actually, the entire fragrance is a perfume game of chicken: just when you think the fruits and coffee are getting too out there, or that weird bitter note roars up out of nowhere and surprises you, Interlude Woman takes a sharp right-hand turn in the nick of time. Even by Amouage's high standards this is a complex, nigh-unparsable fragrance. Oh, and if you put it on, you'd better like it a lot because it is also one of the longest-lasting fragrances I've ever worn. Seriously, this shit is nuclear grade. Thankfully I love it.

Amouage - Opus VII

Do you like Frederic Malle's Bois d'Orage but wish that it had more leather? Well, today is your lucky day because Amouage has anticipated your request. Also you are weird because that is a weird request but whatever, Amouage is here for you. You weirdo. Lest I seem glib, this is unquestionably a good fragrance made in the classic Amouage house style: durable, well-blended, with high-quality materials, based around a strong slug of galbanum backed by woods, incense, pepper, and leather. The galbanum in the top notes is handled better than in Bd'O, which I find shrieky; and the drydown of Opus VII is better too, replacing the cigarettes of Bd'O with smooth leather. So although this seems a weird case of Amouage biting someone else's style -- usually they strike out boldly on their own, which is why they're my favorite house at the moment -- this isn't necessarily a bad thing. Still, I like it more when they make up weird shit from scratch.

n.b. I don't usually complain about price when considering the quality of a fragrance, but the aspirational price level ($325/100ml) for Amouage's Opus line perplexes me. Especially in this case, $325 seems a steep price to pay for what is essentially a nice galbanum/woods/leather accord.

Serge Lutens - Bas de Soie

Bas de Soie finds Lutens back in straight, uncomplicated mode (see also: Fleurs de Citronnier, Clair de Musc): iris + green. As with a lot of iris fragrances, the iris part is great fun, but is over too fast, and then it's on to the drydown, which is a massive punch of galbanum. Such high levels of galbanum make Bas de Soie surprisingly cold; I would even use the word "angry" to describe this fragrance. It's an interesting switch for the line, which has many warm, sweet fragrances; this is the antithesis of warm and sweet.

As much as I like green notes, this might be too angular and haughty for my tastes. This is well-made, but I prefer Lutens in complex, weird mode. However, if you are the sort of person who daydreams about punching kittens in the face, this is the ice queen fragrance for you.

Amouage - Memoir

Apparently these two new fragrances from Amouage were concieved in a somewhat different way than usual: first Memoir Man was created, and then Memoir Women was built from the masculine version. They are both quite unisex, just as the two Jubliations are unisex (and in fact I find Jubilation Woman to be drier and more masculine than the opulent Jubilation Man). This method of construction explains why the two Memoirs are so strikingly similar.

Both Memoirs seem like a continuation of the two Jubilations, which were somewhat of a break from previous Amouage scents. This is a good thing. Memoir Man is deep, rich, and chocolaty; although Amouage claims it is based on the idea of leather, it is a leather in the Amouage school, which is to say that this signature note is framed by the opulent and familiar Amouage base. [EDIT: Coming back to this years later, I have to say that I don't really care much for Memoir Man, perhaps because of the mint note. I do not like mint. Fuck you, mint vitamins I ate as a child. I still love the hell out of Memoir Woman though.]

Memoir Woman is even more impressive: it is Memoir Man, plus more. (Indeed, the drydowns of the two are very similar, to the point where one might confuse the two). To the rich, dry base of Memoir Man has been added a smooth collection of floral notes, but these notes don't create a feminine fragrance; instead, they sweeten the slightly overly-dry impression of the masculine version. It's described as a chypre, and certainly its drydown has the same oakmossy goodness one finds in Jubilation Woman; but it is also quite unisex, and is definitely the superior of the two. It is massively complex: spicy, sweet, boozy, incense-y, woody, sometimes dry. It is so well-blended that I can't discern individual notes until that familiar Amouage drydown. It may, in fact, be my favorite fragrance from Amouage, which is saying something.

I'll also add that the ad copy for Memoir is hilariously, pretentiously overwrought (see here), and on the Amouage website you can find an especially gut-busting promotional video filled with angsty models, swooning close-ups, and feathers (??): " In this emporium of vice and damnation, the anguish, the unwanted, the dark, the haunting and the unmentionable are all beauty of the truth . . . She is him and he is her. They come together as one representing each other’s past, present and future in which they mimic each other’s sorrow and pain." (What the fuck?). Thankfully, I have not become "her" when I've worn Memoir Woman; arbitrary gender reassignment shouldn't be the goal of a fragrance. I do think, though, that I'm going to start telling people that the haunting and the unmentionable are all beauty of the truth. IT IS SO TRUE.

Histoires de Parfums - Défilé New York

Défilé New York, by Histoires de Parfums, is, in short, one of the most impressive fragrances I have smelled in a long time. It also has a highly unique form of distribution: it was only sold last night, September 10th, 2010, at Henri Bendel's, as part of Fashion's Night Out, and only 150 bottles were made.

I was lucky enough to get a bottle, and I also got to meet Gérald Ghislain, the man behind Histoires de Parfums; he signed my bottle, which was very nice. This is actually the first fragrance from the house that I've smelled (I also picked up 14ml bottles of a bunch of other scents from the line as well), and it is astonishingly good. I'm shocked that a fragrance this interesting and masterfully made was created with such limited distribution in mind.

The notes are as follows:
Top notes: fresh mint, bergamot and cut grass
Middle notes: water flowers, pineapple, rhubarb, clove, cinnamon and star anise
Base notes: coffee, chocolate, licorice, vanilla, Gaïac wood, patchouli

As befits a fragrance with such a unique collection of notes, this is a highly nonlinear fragrance. It starts with crisp green, and right out of the bottle feels like a sparkling green fragrance with a touch of warmth given by the base notes. Quickly, though, the fragrance settles into a dance between the green notes (grass, etc), the mint, and the ambery/gourmandy base notes. I was surprised by how well these seemingly disparate notes work together, but then I realized that the genius of this fragrance is that the mint acts as a sort of bridge between the green notes and the warm notes.

This is not a mint-heavy fragrance (which is good, because I don't like mint), but the mint is the key to the whole structure. As Défilé dries down, it becomes variously: gourmandy, green, minty-green, ambery. The balance between green and amber shifts and sometimes becomes almost bizarre, but in a good, novel way. At the extreme dry-down it reminds me of a warmer version of Geranium Pour Monsieur, and the coffee/chocolate/vanilla come out to give a hint of sweet mixed drinks or a warm dessert. But again, the green notes keep this from becoming too sweet: it never becomes cloying or overly edible. This is not a sweet, thick fragrance, but rather smooth and streamlined.

Anyhow, I am blown away. This is a brilliant fragrance and it must have been a huge amount of work to balance these notes, which represent a combination I've never seen before. I'm torn between hoping such a groundbreaking fragrance gets a wider release, versus wanting my bottle to be a sought-after holy-grail scent.

Voyage d'Hermès and Jean-Claude Ellena

Jean-Claude Ellena is, without question, one of the best and most innovative noses working today, and his work for Hermès represents some of the best work he's done. One of the striking aspects of his fragrances is that he is unafraid to return to various themes and permute them in various directions. The peppery top-notes of Cartier Declaration occur, in purified form, as the central element of Poivre Samarcande; the cumin in Declaration makes a strong appearance in Cologne Bigarade, one of three fragrances Ellena created for Frederic Malle; the light vegetal elements found in Kelly Caleche also recur in the Jardin trio; the sparkling grapefruit in Eau de Pamplemousse Rose pops up again in Rose Ikebana, and the rose in those two fragrances grounds Cologne Bigarade; the savory bergamote of Divine Bergamote provides a citric top-note for Eau d'Hiver.

Because of this, Ellena is sometimes (unfairly) accused of plagiarizing himself. These recurrent themes don't represent laziness, but rather a return to the same ideas, a technique followed by many artists with a mature style. Having said this, there are times when certain themes give diminishing returns, and unfortunately this is the case with Voyage d'Hermès. Here, Ellena marries the gin-soaked vegetation of Angeliques Sous la Pluie (another of his fragrances for Frederic Malle) with the sweet ginger base of Declaration. Unfortunately, Angeliques Sous la Pluie wasn't very good the first time around (it smells powerfully of gin, and I don't know why I'd want to smell like that), and although marrying it to a woods-and-ginger accord is an improvement, the result is still a disappointment. This is a perfectly okay fragrance, but I've come to expect more from Ellena.

EDIT: Upon reflection some years later, Angeliques Sous la Pluie is awesome. I was insane when I wrote this.

Iä! Iä! Killian Fthagn!

Here's a fun game. Can you guess which of the following quotations come from actual By Killian press releases?

"I conceived L’Oeuvre Noire with a quasi-Faustian ambience in mind. I wanted to cast a spell, like those that darkened Rimbaud's spirit or conjured the witches in Macbeth. But it also recalls contemporary R&B lyrics like those of 50 Cent, Snoop Dogg or Pharell Williams, all about temptation in the face of urban violence, like Baudelaire before them, as expressed in his prose poetry."

"The black tassel imparts mystery to the fragrance, mystery warding off all sorts of black magic . . . . It's as if the protective shield engraved on the side places the wearer under the protection of a fallen angel. This object is a talisman."

"I am the absolute worst. Please put me down before I write more of this shit."

"The perfume asks the flower:
'who can tell me why I exist?'
Do non loose your heart, dear friend,
in a perfect dawn
you will blend your life
with all the life and at the end
you will know, why you exist."

Hahahahaha! Are they fucking kidding? These are all real quotes, except for the one which obviously isn't a real quote, although it should be. Actually, the last quote isn't from By Killian; it can be found on the equally pretentious Profumum website (note the oddly repetitive name of the linked url -- if it's luxury, you gotta say it twice!). Oh wait, my mistake -- that's "Profvmvm;" I shovld have known to vse the correct vowel that signifies skull-crvshing pretentiousness.

Anyhow, this certainly is some overwrought, hilarious garbage. Truly I do feel as though I'm under the protection of a fallen angel (huh??). Please excuse me for a moment while I use a belt sander to remove my face so that I never again have to experience such sweet, sweet, Faustian/Snoop-Doggian brilliance.

So what does this stuff smell like? Let's check out Back to Black. The press notes say: "A tobacco aroma with sweet undertones of honey. A pure aphrodisiac." I must respectfully disagree. This stuff smells like Baudelaire shitting his pants. It is horrifically sickly-sweet, the cloyingly organic smell of outhouses in the hot sun. A dollop of honey can be great -- see, eg, Chanel's fantastic Beige -- but in this nauseating quantity it evokes sickness and the smell of a mortally ill person rotting from the inside out. This is what you smell when you die.

Luckily for you, a 50ml bottle of this will only set you back $225! That's more than a bottle of Carnal Flower or Vetiver Extraordinaire! This stuff costs twice as much as the Hermessences! Since Back to Black seems to be selling, I've begun bottling my vomit; it can be yours for only $310 per 10ml. What a steal!

On the other hand, Prelude to Love is rather good; it's a cologne with a pleasingly dark note, the top-note sparkle of lemon balanced by solemn iris, a combination I haven't seen before. It's actually quite weighty, more like Prelude to Serious Pondering than to Love, which sets it apart from the effervescent sparkle of most other colognes. Should you pay $225 for 50ml of it? God, no. But if you find a bottle for less, you could definitely do worse. After all, 50 Cent and the witches in Macbeth have already written odes to the temptation in the face of urban violence evoked by this fragrance.