Armani Privé Oud Royal & Cuir Noir (2013) (Mille et Une Nuits)

Armani is re-releasing some of its limited-issue Privé line, and I obtained samples of three of the fragrances from La Collection des Mille et Une Nuits. This review is for Oud Royal and Cuir Noir, neither of which is complicated enough or compelling enough to warrant an individual review. In fact, I’m starting to wonder if Armani could ever make a fragrance that would move me. His style is simply too bloodlessly refined for my tastes. Plus, for the cost, I keep thinking that one could do better. That is especially true for one of the Privé fragrances which seems to have been reworked into something completely different and rather terrible.


Refinery29 has the details on which Armani Privé fragrances are being returned to the market:

The brand has been releasing its ultra-exclusive Privé scents in limited-editions since 2004, usually debuting just one at a time in small batches. Once they sold out, they were gone for good. Well, someone over there was feeling generous, because this summer sees the launch of four brand-new scents and the re-issue of all 10 of the previously launched scents. […]

The four “new” scents — Oud Royal, Cuir Noir, Ambre Orient, and Rose d’Arabie — were originally launched overseas back in 2011, but never made it to the U.S. They are part of the La Collection des Mille et une Nuits that was inspired by the classic Arabian tale, One Thousand and One Nights. They showcase notes of oud, leather, amber, and rose, respectively.

There is no word on whether these 2013 fragrances have been re-worked and re-formulated, but I think at least one of those fragrances must have been, as you will soon see.


Armani Oud RoyalAccording to Fragrantica, Oud Royal was created by Alberto Morillas, while Bois de Jasmin says it is Symrise perfumer Evelyne Boulanger. Some people give the original release date as 2010, others say 2011. Regardless of whoever made Royal Oud or when, the fragrance is certainly described with opulence. In the original press release description of the fragrance, as quoted by Now Smell This, Oud Royal and its notes are described as follows:

“When Giorgio Armani turned his attention to oud, he decided to work it the way he would a heavy brocade lined with gold and silver, leaving its weight, its noble intensity and majestic sedateness. Respectful of its personality, Giorgio Armani set about highlighting each facet of character in its composition: depth is amplified by an amber harmony, the reddish glow is fanned with spices, the dark earth reflections are smoked with a veil of myrrh and incense.” Additional notes include black earth note, animalic notes.

The current description of the fragrance on Armani’s website is largely the same, though much less detailed and focusing more on the mystical nature of oud wood. Thus far, that much is the same. Armani, however, doesn’t list any notes for the fragrance. So, if we take the Now Smell This press release report, and combine it with the notes listed on Fragrantica, the list of ingredients in Oud Royal would be:

Oud from Laos, saffron, amber, rose, sandalwood, myrrh, incense, black earth and animalic notes.

Oud Royal opens on my skin with a very leathery facade, so much so that I actually had to double-check my sample to make sure I hadn’t accidentally put on Cuir Noir. The fragrance is dry, earthy, very dusty, only slightly sweetened by saffron, and reminds me strongly of Dior‘s Leather Oud. There is a subtle undertone of smokiness, but it’s extremely muted. After about five minutes, the saffron becomes a little more noticeable, taking on an almost meaty quality, but, like almost everything else in the fragrance, it’s restrained, refined, and very polite. The rose also makes an appearance at this time, but it’s bloodless, and remains a muted, virtually hidden presence in the perfume’s life.

It takes a mere 30 minutes for Oud Royal to turn into a highly refined, elegant, very pleasant blur. It hovers discretely above the skin as a pleasant haze of soft leather and oud, with saffron and a touch of incense. The rose is barely perceptible, the saffron loses its meaty touch, and the fragrance eventually turns slightly sweeter at the end of 90-minutes. A pretty little pop of sandalwood appears around the end of the fifth hour, but it is very subtle and is largely overpowered by the oud. Those are all minor changes, however, and the core essence remains the same: an extremely pleasant, almost pretty, soft, gauzy leather-oud fragrance that sticks close to the skin. All in all, Oud Royal lasted just short of 7.75 hours on my skin, with weak sillage throughout.

Our Royal is exquisitely blended, very refined, and highly conservative in every way imaginable. I can see its high quality, and even its prettiness, but something ultimately leaves me unmoved. On some levels, it seems like the perfect oud fragrance for those who: 1) dislike true agarwood scents; 2) are looking for a refined fragrance that is highly unobtrusive, in addition to being somewhat blandly safe; and 3) have a lot of money to spend on a prestige name in luxury goods. I think all three factors must apply for Oud Royal to really be worth your while.

The general reaction to Oud Royal is mixed. Bois de Jasmin seems to have been singularly unimpressed, giving the fragrance a 3-star (“adequate”) rating and finding its price (even back in 2010) to be too high for the scent in question:

the fragrances from this collection are in fact quite opulent, well-crafted, made with high-quality materials. Yet, as I am trying to get over the sticker shock of £170 per bottle (according to Harrod’s pricing,) I have to ask myself whether this price is warranted. I really enjoy the decadent sensuality that Oud Royal conveys as well as its prêt-a-porter interpretation of the leather-oud notes that sometimes are quite difficult to wear (such as by Kilian Pure Oud, beautiful though it is.) Yet, it does not strike me as particularly new or original. Or perhaps, something of this Arabian Tale was lost in translation.

On Basenotes, there are mixed reviews in one thread, while a Basenotes poll about the best oud fragrances for men that gives 11 different options has Oud Royal coming in seventh place with 4% of the votes. Are those voting numbers representative or comprehensive? No, and I’m not claiming that they are. Nonetheless, the poll shows that Oud Royal — while being perfectly pleasant and beautifully refined — isn’t necessarily a fragrance that sweeps people away. At the end of the day, the bottom line is that there really isn’t much to say about Oud Royal, and I think it has been intentionally made that way.




I find Cuir Noir to be singularly misnamed, and rather irritating to describe. The fragrance sample I obtained from Neiman Marcus would be more aptly called Saffron Rose, because a leather fragrance it is not. You wouldn’t know that from the Fragrantica description, however, which seems to quote the original Armani press release from 2011:

Cuir Noir was inspired by the art of Arabian tanners. “Leather is an art. From Cordoba, Spain to the borders of the Atlas Mountains. With a wine patina, it takes the name of “cordovan”. Tattooed with gold, it is called “maroquin”.” The perfume composition consists of Australian Sandalwood, Rose essence, Coriander, Nutmeg (in the top); Leather, Smoky Guaiac and Oud (in the heart); Tahitian Vanilla absolute and Benzoin balm (in the base).

I read that description, started testing the fragrance, then immediately stopped in my tracks. Leather? Sandalwood? Nutmeg? Not on my skin, it wasn’t. I double-checked the name printed on the manufacturer’s vial, I re-read Fragrantica, and then I went online to see what some reviews might say, because what was appearing on my skin was gooey, rose syrup with walloping, hefty amounts of saffron, and nary a whiff of leather in sight! I read with confusion Bois de Jasmin‘s bored, negative review of the scent and paid close heed to the statement: “Cuir Noir was created by perfumer Nathalie Lorson and includes notes of Bulgarian rose, nutmeg, coriander, guaiac wood, leather, oud, Australian sandalwood, ambergris accord, benzoin.”

I’ve concluded that Armani must have changed his mind about Cuir Noir, and that it must now be a very different thing from what it was back when it was originally released for the Middle Eastern market. You see, in his current description for the scent on his website, Armani barely bothers to talk about leather at all. Instead, the purportedly black leather fragrance is actually a tribute to saffron, and with rather a different focus from what Fragrantica originally quoted back in 2011:

Cuir Noir showcases the raw material Saffron, a spice with leather accents. The roundness and sensuality of its notes bring suppleness and warmth, reflecting the enveloping sensuality of skin-on-skin contact.  Derived from the crimson stigmas of Crocus sativus, saffron is the world’s most expensive apice [sic]. Its ochre colour symbolises inner happiness, which is why saffron-hued clothing is often mentioned in ancient mythology, tragedies and poetry. In perfumery, saffron lends a full, leathery and sensual note to fragrance compositions.  With Cuir Noir, Giorgio Armani journeys into the heart of an Arabian night. He revisits  the saffron accord to create a captivating Oriental. Golden and voluptuous, saffron infuses a profoundly sensual experience  that recalls the redolence of tanned hides with the wild scent of tallow and  e [sic] smouldering, tarry aroma of black birch.

Well, I don’t smell any tarry black birch at all, but the description does explain why my skin is reeking almost solely of saffron mixed with a syrupy, gooey, jammy rose. It’s revolting, cloyingly sweet, and backed by a sort of chewy darkness that feels like purple patchouli. Cuir Noir is also wholly unoriginal in bent, a retread of very tired old ground walked by so many other fragrances. In fact, the scent reminds me strongly of Tom Ford‘s Café Rose which was the same sort of jammy rose, saffron bomb on my skin.

From beginning to linear end, the same two notes dominate Armani’s Cuir Noir. For the first five minutes, there were flickers of something smoky (though it never felt like guaiac wood), but leather? Bah! BAH, I tell you! My notes are littered with comments about saccharine sweetness, and the complete absence of any mythical tanners from Cordoba. Even the oud is pretty much of a lost cause; it disappears within thirty minutes. Oddly, around the 10 minute mark, there was a momentary pop of a powdered lipstick tonality with a slightly violet aspect, but it vanished within minutes.

Cuir Noir becomes soft and sheer very fast. It takes less than 30 minutes for the moderate sillage to begin its sharp decline and drop; by the 90-minutes mark, the fragrance is a complete skin scent. Yet, Cuir Noir is oddly potent when sniffed up close, and I had almost a burning sensation when I sniffed the saffron, patchouli, rose combination during the second hour. It makes me wonder just how synthetic the fragrance is, and how much fruit-chouli is lurking underneath.

Cuir Noir doesn’t drastically change from its main, boring, sickly-sweet combination until the very end, so I should be thankful that it died so soon. In its final drydown, a rich, faintly custardy vanilla note shows up, along with some abstract, generic smoky woodiness that might be guaiac or ersatz, fake, Australian “sandalwood,” but both notes are as muted and sweetened as everything else in the fragrance. All in all, the fragrance lasted exactly 4.75 hours, ending as a whimper of vanilla sweetness. I know my skin eats fragrances quickly, but come on! For a $275 eau de parfum that is ostensibly made from the richest and best ingredients, that seems rather pathetic. As for the mythical tanners from Cordoba, all I can do is mutter about misleading names, and analogize to that old 1980s commercial for Wendy’s: “Where’s the beef?!”

As you can tell, I’m hugely unimpressed by Cuir Noir, especially in light of its $275 price tag. I never tested the original version released in the Middle East, but I find it hard to believe that the 2011 fragrance whose descriptions and reviews I read is the same one I tested now. The difference between the press release quoted by Fragrantica and what is now on the Armani website seems too vast. I even contemplated the possibility that Fragrantica was incorrect in its description of the scent’s leather, seeming press release quotes notwithstanding. So, I checked the Cuir Noir entry on Osmoz. Nope, Fragrantica wasn’t mistaken. Osmoz usually relies on press release descriptions, too, and its entry for Cuir Noir reads:

The Italian designer was inspired by the refined, ancient art of making leather. He wanted to “recreate the fascinating atmosphere of tanneries, which blend the pungent odor of tallow with the burnt and tarry aromas of black birch.’

Osmoz does reference that “This oriental-leather scent opens with spicy notes of coriander and nutmeg, with a sort of saffron effect.” However, that mere “effect” still differs from the way saffron is highlighted front and center in Armani’s description which, again, states flat-out “Cuir Noir showcases the raw material Saffron.” That seems to be a far cry from Armani’s prior focal point in 2011.

My conclusion about a difference in versions is further underscored by reading the reviews on Fragrantica where very little matches with either Armani’s current description or the manufacturer’s fragrance sample that I obtained from Neiman Marcus. References to leather (subtle as it was even then and lasting a mere 30 minutes) are joined by comments about the vanilla custard drydown, and quite a bit of talk of the amber. One person writes of a sort of industrial machine scent in the fragrance:

My father used melted stannary and resin to glue together small metal parts of broken machines. I used to love to see how the metal melts and the resin melts and evaporates into a wonderful perfume. The melted resin is what this perfume reminds me of.

There is not a single word about saffron. Not one. Not even indirectly. And there is nothing about how Cuir Noir is equally dominated by the rose note, either. The only things that seem to be exactly the same are the vanilla custard drydown, and the fact that the old version barely lasted on people either. There are complaints about its short longevity, with one person saying that it didn’t last above 4 hours.

Bois de Jasmin also seems to be describing a different scent. Her review is brief, so brief as to feel like she just wants to get the whole thing over with. Giving it 3 stars for “adequate,” her entire description of the way Cuir Noir actually smells is limited to four sentences:

Cuir Noir starts out as a big sweet amber and leather in the style of Tom Ford Amber Absolute or Annick Goutal Ambre Fétiche. There is a distinctive rose note that lingers from top to drydown. The medicinal, smoky oud is such a rich accent that it makes the leather play a second fiddle. Fans of oriental blends will enjoy Cuir Noir, but if you are looking for a smoky rich leather, it will not satisfy the craving.

Well, I certainly agree with her last statement, but I am more convinced than ever that the 2013 version of Cuir Noir is a wholly different fragrance. My skin might be even more insane than I had previously thought, but that doesn’t change the fact that saffron is the focus of Cuir Noir’s entry on the Armani website. No, this has to be a new version, it simply has to be.


I was unimpressed with both fragrances given their high price, but if one looks at Oud Royal in a complete vacuum, it isn’t a bad fragrance by any means. It’s actually quite pretty! Oud Royal has the trademark Armani signature stamped all over it: luxury ingredients incorporated seamlessly into a well-blended blur that is hyper-refined and proper to the point of being too elegant and bloodless. It’s just like Armani’s clothes: superbly crafted and reflecting a refinement that is minimalistic, aloof, and understated. Unlike his Privé line of clothing, however, Oud Royal lacks the style to make it really stand out. It’s also linear, uncomplicated, and so refined as to feel rather dull on occasion.

When I tested Nuances, Armani’s limited-edition, ridiculously priced ($500+) iris haute Couture line fragrance earlier this year, I thought part of my discomfort stemmed from the fact that I wasn’t an iris lover. Now, however, I think that the Armani signature simply doesn’t move me. I truly think that, if Armani could sanitize the slightly dirty, earthy qualities of oud to render it as suffocatingly prim as he did to the iris in Nuances, then he absolutely would. Oud Royal lacks the claustrophobic qualities of Nuances, a fragrance so elegant that its refinement gasps for life, but that’s not saying much. After all, there’s only so much one can do to suck all character out of oud combined with leather. That said, I still find Oud Royal to be largely unremarkable, in my opinion, and I much prefer the more nuanced, richer, longer-lasting Dior version (Leather Oud) with its significantly more palatable price tag.

As for Cuir Noir, I’m not sure the 2011 version was much to write home about, but the 2013 absolutely is not! In short, the less said about Cuir Noir, the better. Bah!

Cost & Availability: Both Oud Royal and Cuir Noir are eau de parfums that come in a 100 ml/3.4 oz bottle and which cost $275, or £190. The Euro price in 2012 was €205, but I don’t know if it has been increased for the re-launch. Armani: You can purchase Oud Royal or Cuir Noir directly from the US Armani website, where the fragrances are listed under the Mille et Un Nuit section. However, I couldn’t see either perfume listed on the Armani International Privé section, and I’ve somehow never been able to select a Privé fragrance to put into a shopping cart on that particular site. Maybe you can figure out how it works. Finally, the UK Armani site does not carry Oud Royal, but does list Cuir Noir. In the U.S.: All four of the new Armani re-releases are sold exclusively at Neiman Marcus, which is where I obtained my samples. Outside the U.S.: In the UK, Harvey Nichols carries Oud Royal and Cuir Noir. The Heathrow Duty-Free boutique carries Oud Royal, but not Cuir Noir. In France, the fragrances are listed on the French Armani site, but no prices are given, and it doesn’t seem as though you can actually purchase fragrances directly from the website. In South Africa, I found Armani Privé at a store called Luminance. For all other locations, you can rely on the Index of different geographical Armani websites, or use their store locator within the site applicable to your area. Samples: I’m afraid you have to rely on an Armani store near you for Oud Royal, or the sales counter of one of the handful of boutiques that carries the Privé line. However, Surrender to Chance does offer samples of Cuir Noir starting at $4.99 for a 1/2 ml vial. Given the newness of the relaunched fragrances, I’m assuming they carry the original 2011 fragrance and not what I am testing now.

Perfume Review: Armani Privé Les Éditions Couture Nuances (Limited Edition)

There is a great irony in calling a perfume “Nuances” when, for the vast majority of its life, it has none. Such is the case with the new, limited-edition, super expensive, ultra exclusive, iris fragrance from Giorgio Armani called Nuances. It is part of the prestige Privé line, and the even more exclusive sub-collection called Les Éditions Couture.

Armani Nuances 2

Nuances is an eau de parfum for men and women which was released in May 2013,  and which takes refined elegance to such stratospheric heights that it’s practically bloodless and gasping for oxygen. It made me think of a perfectly coiffed, elegant, eighty-year old dowager doddering away in seclusion on her aristocratic British estate; or of a very pale, elderly gigolo immaculately garbed in Armani who tries to fade as unobtrusively as possible into the background at a cocktail party while his current patron makes the rounds. Nuances is bloodless, simply bloodless. It’s just there — except when it’s not, because it’s decided to take off for a jaunt for and act like a ghost until it decides to grace you with its presence again.

But let’s start at the beginning. In typical Armani understatement, his website barely bothers to discuss the perfume in any detail other than a brief, completely unhelpful paragraph that bleats on about nuances, prisms, and the “juxtapositions of light and colour.” Thankfully, other sources don’t believe in his obsession with minimalism. For example, The Moodie Report says that the inspiration for the perfume was a piece of fabric, and explains how iris is the olfactory thread that needles its way through all three of the Armani Privé Couture fragrances:

Armani NuancesThe scent was inspired by an Armani fabric print, which featured in the designer’s latest fashion collection. The origin of the print was a photograph, taken using optical prisms and mirrors.

Each of the 1,000 signature bottles is dressed in the organza print; every pouch is unique, and adorned with leather ties. The lacquered green bottle is topped with a marble-like cap, in different shades of black, turquoise and anthracite. 

Iris is the key ingredient that connects all three Armani Privé Éditions Couture fragrances (Armani Privé La Femme Bleue features black iris; Armani Privé Nacre musky iris). 

The press release quoted by Harrods adds even further information and detail:

Inspired by this season’s fashion collection, Armani Prive Nuances is a brilliant reflection of the multi-faceted world of Giorgio Armani. Each of the 1,000 signature bottles comes dressed in the organza print, specially selected from Mr. Armani’s workshops in Milan. Within the pouch, the bottle itself is a work of art. Its cap, reminiscent of smooth marble, is crafted in three colours of resin making each one of them unique.

The fragrance uncovers a woody-iris accord, build around Italian orris absolute. A juxtaposition of different notes reveal an enveloping fragrance, sophisticated yet radiant, with a light note of androgyny in its woody base.

Armani doesn’t bother to list the notes for Nuances, but the sum total — as compiled from the Moodie report and Fragrantica — seems to be:

Italian orris absolute, bergamot, cinnamon, heliotrope, vetiver, vanilla, cocoa, benzoin and sandalwood.



Nuances opens on my skin with a brief flash of bergamot, followed by iris. The latter is floral, rooty, earthy, and lightly powdered all at once. Within minutes, the iris is warmed by vanilla, but it is the louder, more dominant influence of vetiver which initially has the greatest impact. When combined with the iris, it creates an earthiness that feels almost like that of damp soil.

Heliotrope. Source:

Heliotrope. Source:

The iris keeps flickering and changing in these early moments. One minute, it is infused by fresh bergamot, the next by a light, musky vanilla, then by earthy notes. Once in a while, it feels infused by an amorphous woodiness. Generally, however, Nuances is merely different degrees of floral rootiness backed by vanilla.

The vanilla is interesting because it’s a very light, sheer, dry note, but whiffs of other elements lurk underneath. Something warmer, richer, softer and creamier. It’s not custard, cinnamon, or cocoa, but some indecipherable combination of all of them. A few minutes later, the vanilla is joined by heliotrope which adds a strong element of sweet almonds that almost borders on pate d’amande or marzipan.

At the thirty minute mark, Nuances starts to shift a little. Now, it is primarily a woody, musky, iris fragrance with lightly powdered, almond-y heliotrope and vanilla. The rooty, earthy undertones have become much less dominant, as has the vetiver. Taking their place instead is a light sprinkling of white cocoa powder with the faintest dash of cinnamon. Nuances remains this way for the next hour without any significant change — except in the base. It is always an amorphous, abstract, woody muskiness infused by vanilla, but there is something increasingly unpleasant about it. There is a subtle nuance that, in some indescribable manner, feels a little cheap and almost synthetic, but not quite. Perhaps, it is the musk which reminds me of the white version in a lot of inexpensive, mass-market fragrances. Or, perhaps, it is the vanilla which feels surprisingly low quality for such an expensive fragrance. Adding to the subtle flickers of something unpleasant lurking down below is a humming in the base. Luca Turin once described ISO E Super as a “low woody hum,” and that is precisely how it is here. Later, alas, my synthetic nemesis makes a far greater appearance, resulting in a charming 2 hour headache.

Right around the 90-minute mark, Nuances becomes a skin scent and, by the two-hour one, it is nothing more than a faded, muted, almost abstract, woody muskiness with a soft, lightly powdered, floral veil that just barely — barely — translates to iris. There are no concrete, distinct, individual traces of sandalwood, vetiver, cocoa, cinnamon, or anything else for that matter.

Then, three hours in, Nuances vanishes. I put my arm right to my nostrils, and sniffed like a man dying for oxygen. I sniffed like the very best German Shepherd K9 in a drug squad. Nope, caput, finito, basta. I thought to myself, “okay, so much for longevity,” and shrugged. Then, lo’ and behold, an hour later, Nuances decides to suddenly come back. I have no idea where it decided to go, or why it decided to flounce off, but it apparently decided to revisit my arm. A few of the Chanel Exclusifs like to play “ghost,” as I call it (31 Rue Cambon, I’m looking at you in particular!), and clearly, Nuances is the same sort of animal. But, once Nuances decided to stay, it bloody well wouldn’t give up! All in all, it remained — in a nebulous, abstract, musky, woody, slightly powdered, monotonous, faintly iris-y hum — for another 11.5 hours. Granted, I had to practically inhale at my arm like a rabid, frothing, deranged animal to detect it a lot of the time, but it was absolutely there, no question about it.

Normally, I would test a fragrance with these sorts of odd characteristics at least twice — but I really couldn’t muster up the energy for Nuances. It’s not just that the perfume gave me a headache at one point from the subtle flickers of ISO E Super in the base; it’s mostly because Nuances was driving me a little mad with its linear refinement. It is so well-coiffed, so perfectly smooth, immaculate, conservative, sophisticatedly dull and unobtrusive, it verges on the mundane. I kept thinking of George Hamilton or Giorgio Armani having all the blood sucked out and replaced by embalming fluids, until they lost their perfect tans and their lifeless corpses were propped up on a chair somewhere. In fairness, I think a hardcore iris addict would probably love Nuances. Of course, that assumes that they could easily and consistently detect it on their skin — something about which I’m highly dubious. Yet, I think even they would admit that there are, in fact, few nuances to the fragrance, and that it is rather limited in both depth and range.

All of this makes Nuances shockingly over-priced. Yes, I understand it’s not only Armani Privé, but also limited-edition with only 1000 bottles made. But it’s £500.00! Nuances is not listed at all on the U.S. Armani website, so if we’re to go by the current exchange rate, that’s $760! If you want to pay a small fortune for an iris fragrance with actual nuances, and which is just slightly less difficult to obtain, then may I point you in the direction of Ormonde Jayne‘s Tsarina from the new Four Corners of The Earth Collection? It’s a lovely, incredibly elegant, sophisticated iris scent with layers, and without the many, varied problems of the Armani one. Plus, Tsarina is cheaper, too. (Well, purely on a relative scale of things….)

As you can tell, I was not a fan of Nuances. If it were a $100 (or even $150) bottle of perfume, and you were a hardcore iris addict who didn’t mind a really conservative, boring, but elegant, iris soliflore, then I’d definitely recommend giving Nuances a try to see if the nonexistent sillage and peculiar longevity issues work out for you. As it is, however, then no. Simply no.

Cost & Availability: Nuances is a limited-edition Eau de Parfum that only comes in a 100 ml/3.4 oz bottle. I can’t find pricing in U.S. dollars, but it costs £500.00 or Swiss CHF 690. Nuances is shown on the International Armani Beauty website and on its UK Beauty site (where it is currently sold out). However, neither Nuances nor the rest of the Privé Couture line is shown on Armani’s U.S. website somehow. Plus, I can’t seem to figure out if you can purchase the perfume from the non-UK, international website directly, as I don’t see a button to click and put the fragrance into a cart. Armani has an Index Website listing with versions for Asia, Italy, Germany, Spain and elsewhere that you may want to use to see if Nuances is listed for your location. In the U.S.: Nuances will undoubtedly be sold at any Armani boutique that carries the Privé Collection line of fragrances. Outside the U.S.: Nuances is currently available at Harrods. I know it is available in the Middle East. Normally, I try to provide as many online retail links as possible, but in the case of Nuances, it proved to be a little hard. And, to be honest, I wasn’t very motivated.

Modern Trends in Perfume – Part III: Fresh & Natural, or Soapy Detergent?

With Sugar, Dessert, and Eccentric Extremes under our belt, the one of the two categories of modern perfumes is what I call (when feeling polite) the Clean category. (The final one, the Wood or Oud group, will be discussed in Part IV.) but is useful to touch upon briefly here as it’s a sharp counterbalance to fragrances that seek to evoke perhaps no actual perfume but rather, the soapy, water smell of freshness.

Fresh and Clean. One of the most popular of the current trends in perfume are scents that are light, crisp, clean and fresh. I credit the Japanese designer, Issey Miyake, with spearheading this trend in 1992 when he launched L’Eau d’Issey, an old favorite of mine. Categorized as a floral aquatic, Fragrantica states that its main accords are: floral, aquatic, ozonic, fresh, white floral and rose. L’Eau d’Issey reflects the designer’s ethos of clean, minimalistic lines from the sleekly triangular frosted glass bottle with its silver point to the intentional evocation of water and transparency. As Fragrantica notes:

Issey Miyaké thought about creating a perfume that was “as clear as spring water”, combining the spray of a waterfall, the fragrance of flowers, and the scent of springtime forest. L’Eau d’Issey achieved an enormous popularity, especially in the United States in the 1990s. L’Eau d’Issey is an aquatic floral scent with transparent notes of lotus, freesia and cyclamen and juicy melon. The middle note of peony, lily and carnation reveals the perfume’s character. The end note is a refined woody scent with the notes of cedar, sandal, musk and amber. It was created in 1992 by Jacques Cavallier.


Personally, I’m not sure I fully agree with “refined woody scent” and the warm base-notes that are listed. I smell a crisp, watery floral that is incredibly elegant and yet, clean and fresh even in its final dry-down. True, that finish is a lot warmer than its beginning, but it’s more like the subtle whisper of thin silk, not the warm, thicker, more enveloping cashmere that I personally and mentally attribute to notes like “sandal, musk and amber.”

The incredible popularity of L’Eau d’Issey and of many of the similarly understated, fresh, crisp scents which Miyake subsequently put out. undoubtedly influenced Giorgio Armani. Like Miyake, Armani is a designer whose aesthetic leans towards the understated, clean, minimalistic and elegant. In 1995, he launched Acqua di Gio with aquatic, floral, “fresh” accords.

Now, I need to state at the onset that I loathe Acqua di Gio. Yes, loathe. To me, you’re paying a lot of money to smell like laundry detergent. I am not a fan. That cannot be said enough times. I don’t care what its notes are supposed to be; for me, it’s verboten.  Adding insult to injury for me is the fact that it’s damn hard to escape the pervasive influence of that bloody perfume! Whatever the popularity of L’Eau d’Issey, Acqua di Gio has surpassed it many thousands of times over. Everyone seems to wear it. Rollerballs of the damn thing are routinely tossed into shopping bags at Neiman Marcus as a Gift with Purchase. Other brands have attempted (alas, successfully) to replicate it constantly in some way or another. Giorgio Armani essentially threw wide open the flood gates to what I personally consider as “The Age of Laundry Detergent and Fabric Softener” fragrances.

Some of Acqua di Gio’s (many unfortunate) offspring are similarly aquatic, fresh, clean, crisp and/or soapy. For example: Kenzo’s L’Eau, Bath and Body Works’ Fresh Cucumber, Bobbi Brown’s Bath, the clean, unimposing and not particularly long-lasting Omnia Crystalline by Bvlgari, Calvin Klein’s Eternity Aqua, Comptoir Sud Pacifique’s Eau de Lagons, Davidoff’s Cool Water, Gucci’s Flora Eau Fraiche, and Hermès’ Jardins en Méditerranée by the famous perfume nose Jean-Claude Ellena. But perhaps few things underscore my point more than the brand that is actually entitled “Clean“! With perfumes named Warm Cotton, Fresh Laundry, Shower Fresh and Lather Clean, they are the ultimate embodiment of the trend away from perfume and towards the …. er… all natural? I don’t know about you, but I don’t want to spend $69 for a 2.14 oz bottle merely to smell like a Fresh Shower. I will just take that bloody shower for the few cents that each soapy outing towards cleanliness may cost me.

As I have said repeatedly, perfume is subjective and personal. One person’s poison is another person’s Holy Grail. And that is completely normal. But since this is my blog, we shall speak no more of these vile things and move the discussion to the most recent (and perhaps most upcoming and popular) new trend: Oud or Aoud fragrances. You can read all about that in Part IV.  Until next time!

For Part I: “Sugar, Spice & Even More Sugar,” go here.
For Part II, “Sweat, Genitalia, Dirty Sex & Decay,” go here.
For Part IV, “Oud/Aoud – Elegant Wood or Medicinal Sexiness?,” go here.