Diptyque Florabellio & L’Artisan Parfumeur Rose Privee

I generally think that it’s a good idea for a perfume lover to go outside their comfort zone from time to time, and to stretch themselves by trying a different sort of olfactory style than what they are usually drawn to, so long as the scent in question has a few notes which they really love. Yet, even with that last part as a solid and absolute requirement, I usually end up wondering why I bothered, because the end result is almost invariably, inevitably, a failure. “Stretching oneself” seems to be great in theory, but actual perfume experimentation outside of my olfactory comfort zone — and, most particularly, amongst brands whose aesthetic I don’t enjoy — rarely results in a happy surprise or a miraculous find. More often than not, I’m left feeling greatly irritated.

That was the case with two new releases that I tried recently: Diptyque‘s Florabellio and L’Artisan Parfumeur‘s Rose Privée. Diptyque is not a brand whose aesthetic I enjoy, because I find their scents to be excessively synthetic, fresh, clean, and sheer, but Florabellio tempted me with claims of coffee, saltiness, and toasted sesame seeds. Hmmph. L’Artisan is another brand that rarely works for me, primarily due to synthetics, sheerness, and longevity issues, though I did really love the great, once discontinued Safran Troublant (which, alas, was also badly flawed by unusually brief longevity on my skin). Nevertheless, the new Rose Privée beckoned to me, not only because it was created by Bertrand Duchaufour, but also because it contains lilac, carnation, basil, patchouli, hay, and amber. What an intriguing set of elements to go with rose, I thought. It can’t be too bad. Well, it wasn’t the worst thing that I’ve ever tried; it had a few bits that were quite interesting or intriguing in the first hour; it was far from the rose soliflore that I was dreading; and it was an A/P scent that actually lasted on my skin for a change. Unfortunately, I also found it to be schizophrenic in its changes, and unappealing as a whole. I’ll cover each fragrance in turn.

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Profumi del Forte – Versilia Vintage Ambra Mediterranea

Versilia Vintage Ambra Mediterranea is a study of ambergris or grey amber by Bertrand Duchaufour, and a scent that is meant to have a luminosity evocative of the “calm deep Mediterranean.” Not for me. It is also a scent that some people think is one of the best ambers around. Again, not for me. Not by any means.

Source: Profumi del Forte

Source: Profumi del Forte

Profumi Del Forte was founded in 2007 by Enzo Torre. According to the company’s website, he was “inspired by the timeless style of the Versilia seaside resort,” which explains the “Versilia” in the title of some of the fragrances. In 2009, the company released Versilia Vintage Ambra Mediterranea (hereinafter just “Ambra Mediterranea”), which Profumi Del Forte describes as follows:

The elegance of grey amber and the serenity of orange. The sweetness of ylang-ylang, the warmth of cedar wood. Gentle luminous notes, which evoke atmospheres of a calm deep Mediterranean.

[Notes:] Orange, coriander, ylang-ylang, jasmine, grey amber, benzoin from Siam, tolu balsam, incense, cedar wood, patchouli, vanilla, white musk

Source: fovipa.com

Source: fovipa.com

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Neela Vermeire Creations Pichola

"Cleopatra," by  John William Waterhouse via Wikipedia.

“Cleopatra,” by John William Waterhouse via Wikipedia.

One fateful morning, Cleopatra sailed up the Nile to meet Antony on a barge whose billowing sails were made from gossamer-light orange blossom petals. Her white silk robe bore a long train made from even more orange blossoms, carried by her handmaidens, Neroli and Mandarin, who wear garlands of jasmine in their hair. The trio danced joyously and exuberantly, sending out a bouquet far and wide like a royal proclamation, one whose sweet floralcy was redolent with tart tanginess from green fruits and the zesty oils of the rind. The fruits’ sun-ripened juices poured off their bodies to drip below decks on sailors hewing oars of buttercream sandalwood and green vetiver. It was as though the Queen had captured every part of an orange tree —  from the bright floralcy of the fresh flowers to the multi-faceted fragrance of its fruit, the green leaves which surround them, and the wood which bears them on the tree — and made them all genuflect in worship before enveloping her like a protective shield.

Artist unknown. Source: ldmark.com

Artist unknown. Source: ldmark.com

As the barge moved up the Nile, the scenery changed and the mood softened. The white-blossomed sails now merely fluttered in a soft breeze; the pulvarizingly energetic, zesty, brightness of the wild Bollywood music became a slow dance; and the Queen of the Orange Blossoms lay languidly in sensuous repose on a pile of greenness as a golden haze of velvety ylang-ylang and sweet jasmine hung heavy in the air. The barge itself almost seems to melt into creaminess, and the water glistened with a shimmering of benzoin powder. They occasionally passed bits of driftwood, overly desiccated and oddly out-of-place, but they were small pieces that soon passed out of sight. When they arrived at the meeting place, the barge docked and you could see its name: Pichola.

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Aedes de Venustas Copal Azur

A beach on the Yucatan Peninsula. Source: wexas.com

A beach on the Yucatan Peninsula. Source: wexas.com

Copal Azur comes with the promise of all the colours of the Mayan Riviera, captured in one bottle: from the turquoise of its foaming seas to the green of its jungles, the white of its beaches and the plumes of Copal incense smoke, and the gold of fire-burning amber laid at the altars of the Jaguar God. Inspired by a Mayan citadel on Mexico’s Yucatan Peninsula, it is a fragrance whose aroma is painted in the most beautiful strokes, conjuring up a truly vivid image that transports you visually and mentally. Yet, words can differ from actual reality, and what sounds so good as a verbal picture may not translate to the same thing in terms of scent. There are parts of Copal Azur that I found quite enjoyable, but other parts got lost in translation. Or, to be more precise, it may have been better had they not been translated at all.

Source: Now Smell This.

Source: Now Smell This.

Copal Azur is an eau de parfum that was created by Bertrand Duchaufour, and released on November 15th. Whomever wrote the Aedes de Venustas’ press release did a magnificent job, if only in describing the beauty of the Yucatan Peninsula and its feel. You can read the full details on the Aedes website, but I’ll cover a few of the points here. First, the company explains that Copal Azur tries to capture the scent of a Mayan incense called Copal, but that the resin “cannot be used as a perfume ingredient.” As a result, “three different extractions of frankincense are used to conjure it from top to base notes, making up an extravagant 30% of the formula.” Continue reading