Perfume Review: Tsarina by Ormonde Jayne (Four Corners of the Earth Collection)

The icy steppes of Russia, the opulence of a Romanov Tsarina, a mix of hauteur and passion, brocades and fur, sweeping dresses and fabulous jewels….

Photo of Tsar Nicholas II accompanying Tsarina Alexandra and Dowager Empress Maria Feodorovn, at the Winter Palace Photograph circa 1901 by Burton Holmes. Source: Angelfire.com

Photo of Tsar Nicholas II accompanying Tsarina Alexandra and Dowager Empress Maria Feodorovna, at the Winter Palace. Photograph circa 1901 by Burton Holmes. Source: Angelfire.com

Those images are the source of inspiration for Tsarina, the new fragrance from the London luxury perfume house, Ormonde Jayne. It is one of four fragrances in the new Four Corners of the Earth collection which was released in late 2012 and which pays homage to the different parts of the world that have inspired Ormonde Jayne’s founder, Linda Pilkington. The collection is the result of collaboration between Ms. Pilkington and the perfumer, Geza Schoen, and consists of four fragrances: Tsarina, Qi, Montabaco and Nawab of Oudh. I have samples of all four fragrances, provided courtesy of Ormonde Jayne, and will review each one in turn, starting now with Tsarina.

OJ TsarinaOrmonde Jayne describes Tsarina as follows:

Tsarina captures opulence and passion. It demands fur, leather, brocade, heavy silks in sweeping dresses and fabulous jewels to go with her haughty heritage. To call it a floral oriental is to misunderstand its rich complexity, it is more baroque. The perfume is profound, blending leather notes, rich Madagascan vanilla, amber and orris butter.’ This is a powerhouse perfume, ravishing and regal, distinctive and synonymous with the glamorous world of luxe.

Tsarina’s notes include:

top: mandarine, bergamot, coriander, cassis.
heart: hedione, freesia, jasmine sambac, iris, suede. 
base: sandalwood, cedar, vanilla bean base, labdanum, musk.
Alix Romanov, last Tsarina

Empress Alexandra Romanov, née Alix of Hesse.

The description of Tsarina, along my past historical writings on both royalty and the Russian Imperial Family, led me to anticipate either Catherine the Great or Alexandra Romanov, last Tsarina of that ill-fated family. I expected images of snowy St. Petersburg, furs, jeweled chains of opulence, and a heady, baroque oriental that epitomized hedonistic splendour and excess.

Grace-Kelly-handbag

Princess Grace of Monaco.

Instead, I found an incredibly elegant, soft iris and suede scent that — to my mind — consistently evoked the cool, restrained, pale beauty (and occasional hauteur) of Princess Grace. Tsarina is, at times, as fizzily fresh and crisp as the best champagne (if there were ever a citrus, lemon champagne), at other times icily cool, but always romantic with a plushly soft heart like the finest suede coat matched with dove-grey gloves.

Tsarina opened on my skin with the freshest burst of citrus imaginable. It was so zesty, it felt as though you’d just cut into a lemon and been squirted by its juices. Light and bright, it mixes with the sweet, airy scent of freesia, some subtle musk, and an underlying note of soft, white woods. There was also a very faintly soapy element that creeps around the edges, mixing with the citrus accord, to add to the impression of a very fresh, Spring-like scent. The woody note is subtle, but even more subtle was the orange tonality which flickered for a brief moment before vanishing entirely. I tested out Tsarina three times, and mandarin never appeared for me at all during the other two tests.

Everything feels green, fizzy and bright, thanks, in part, to the hedione which seems to be a very significant molecule in 20th century perfumery. (You can read Bois de Jasmin‘s discussion of its uses in everything from highlighting jasmine to its role in Eau Sauvage, Diorella, and Van Cleef & Arpel’s First.) The Perfume Shrine explains that hedione is an aromachemical that is often used as a substitute for jasmine absolute, “but also for the sake of its own fresh-citrusy and green tonality.” It is said to “give fizz to citrus notes much ‘like champagne’.” Here, with Tsarina, it does just that, lending a sparkling quality to the bergamot lemon, while also adding its own green touch.

Prss Grace via TumblrLess than ten minutes into the opening of the Tsarina, the perfume’s strong backbone of suede raises its head. Soft, buttery, white-dove grey is the colour that comes to mind, tinged with delicate iris, and the whole thing set against a backdrop of lemon. As time passes, the citrus note fades and the iris suede takes over completely. It smells exactly like the soft, light interior to a very expensive purse. There are growing peppery smoke notes from the cedarwood, combined with the light musk and those airy, pastel freesia blossoms. The merest hint of soap weaves its way around all those notes, joining another subtle thread in Tsarina’s tapestry: powder. Iris often has a very powdery characteristic, but it’s very light here. Instead, the much plusher orris butter creates a velvety soft image, accentuating the grey suede note. It’s very cool in tone; never quite icy but never effusively warm, either. It has a regal hauteur and quiet aloofness, if you will.

The perfume is surprisingly soft and lightweight in texture, though strong in its initial moments. However, after less than forty minutes, the sillage drops dramatically. It’s as gauzy and light as the softest pashmina scarf, resting just lightly on your skin with a grey-pastel touch of iris, suede, heaps of freesia and a touch of vanilla.

The wood and smoke notes flicker here and there, popping around like ghosts. Often, in other treatments, cedarwood can seem excessively peppery and smoking, verging sometimes on the mentholated. Here, however, the impression is of soft cashmere woods with something a bit unexpected. On two of my three tests of Tsarina, I picked up something that definitely smelled of anise. It’s as though the often mentholated aspect of cedar has been tamed or quietened to such a degree that there is just the merest hint of its chilly, smoky, licorice-y character, now diluted down to a faint soupçon of mere anise. It’s in perfect keeping with the restrained, elegant aspect of the perfume.

Three hours in, the base notes of Tsarina start to emerge. There are quiet elements of sandalwood, vanilla, and sweet notes from the jasmine, but the real end of Tsarina is labdanum. It is a rich, nutty, slighty leathery, minutely dirty and animalic resin that is one of my absolute favorite notes. Here, it’s light and sheer, far from opaquely thick or molten. The labdanum is subtly tinged by the other notes at times but, for the most part, Tsarina’s dry-down consists primarily of the ambery resin, some powder, and little else. It’s pretty but, for my tastes, too light, sheer and simple.

All in all, Tsarina lasted just under 6 hours during my first test and a bit under 5 hours on the subsequent tests when I applied a lesser quantity. I have perfume-consuming skin, but I was nonetheless surprised at the moderate-to-short longevity for an eau de parfum concentration. (My beloved Tolu which is also an Ormonde Jayne eau de parfum lasted 7 hours when I reviewed it and just over 8 hours on a recent wearing.) The softness of Tsarina and its delicate notes are, perhaps, one explanation. The sillage began by being relatively good for the first 20 minutes, then dropped down to moderate-to-low thereafter. It became extremely close to the skin by the second hour; by the fourth, I thought the scent had vanished completely but faint traces lingered on, here or there, for another one to two hours (depending on test run).

There aren’t a ton of reviews on Tsarina out there. One of the few is from the Candy Perfume Boy who seems to have a very different experience than I did:

Everything about it is evocative of the opulent jewellery, furs and textiles that the description mentions and the Russians are famous for. It opens diffusive and bitter, hinting at the animalics to come but what’s really noticeable is a warm plushness, tinged by a darkness that comes from a combination of the powder of iris and indole of jasmine.

The whole thing is, dare I say, rather Guerlainesque with its bergamot, sweet floral powder and balsamic funk. Tsarina is like Shalimar Parfum Initial but on a bigger budget (we’re talking a Tsars budget here people), cutting straight through the fruit and heading straight for the rooty iris and gorgeous, filthy base of proper Shalimar. It doesn’t mess around, to put it frankly.

Tsarina is an incredibly feline fragrance, like a beautifully sleek black cat come in from the cold, slinking and weaving itself between your legs. Like a cat it is incredibly precious but not afraid to use its claws to assert it’s authority. There’s glamour here of course, but there’s also a steely strength just beneath the surface that says; “I may be incredibly beautiful but I’m even more dangerous”.

I didn’t get any of that, I’m afraid. My experience evoked not just Grace Kelly, but the softness of an Impressionist painting of winter. Something by Claude Monet, in fact.

Claude Monet. "Winter on the Seine, Lavacourt."

Claude Monet. “Winter on the Seine, Lavacourt.”

All in all, I thought Tsarina was pretty and I liked it, though I expected to truly love it. Had I smelled the mandarin orange and leather — and had the labdanum been heavily resinous and opaque, thereby evoking furs, leather and baroque richness — I probably would have. Instead, Tsarina was predominantly velvety soft iris and suede on my skin. All three times I tried it! I should note that iris is not one of the notes which drives me wild with passion. In fact, it can be a note I struggle with, depending on what accompanies it. That said, I think this is one of the best treatments of iris that I have encountered in a while. In addition to my iris issues, however, Tsarina was also far too soft, gauzy and sheer for my personal tastes — both in terms of weight and in sillage. The longevity was also a problem, though the speed with which my skin can consume perfume is not the norm.

I’m afraid my heart still belongs to Tolu, though I have to admit that there is something about Tsarina’s plush, velvety softness that is quite alluring. Its cool elegance is comfortable and easy, like the best pashmina cashmere scarf or the richest suede caressing your skin. I know a number of my regular readers are complete fiends for soft, harmonious iris scents and, to them, I say, I think this will knock your socks off!

Unfortunately, Tsarina is not the easiest thing to get your hands on right now. It is not even listed yet on the company’s website (though it probably will be soon), and doesn’t seem available at other European retailers. As always, Ormonde Jayne fragrances are not sold in the U.S. At the moment, Tsarina is available at Ormonde Jayne’s two boutiques in London and is also available online at Harrods. That seems to be about it. Even worse, none of the perfume sample sites in the US currently offer any of the Four Corners of the Earth collection. So, you can’t even get the chance to sniff it! (When places like Surrender to Chance start selling samples of the collection, I will update this post accordingly.) Given the price, this is not something I would recommend buying blindly and unsniffed unless you know you love soft iris scents. The perfume comes only in one size — a large 100 ml/ 3.4 oz bottle — and costs £280.00. At the current exchange rate, that comes to approximately $422!

I think cost is all relative and subjective. It depends on the person and how much they adore something. So, for those who love harmonious, elegant. quietly restrained scents, especially of iris and suede, Tsarina is definitely one to try out.

Disclosure: My sample of Tsarina was provided courtesy of Ormonde Jayne. However, that did not impact this review. My primary commitment is, and always will be, to be as honest as possible for my readers.
DETAILS:
Price & Availability: As noted, above, Tsarina is an Eau de Parfum which comes only in a large 100 ml/3.4 oz size and which costs £280.00. Although Tsarina and the Four Corner Collection are not presently up on the Ormonde Jayne website, you can find the entire line at Harrods which ships out internationally. Ormonde Jayne’s two London boutiques are at Old Bond Street and Sloane Square with the precise addresses listed on the website here. When US perfume sample sites, like Surrender to Chance, start to offer Tsarina, I will update this post with the appropriate link.

New Perfume Releases: Ormonde Jayne “The Four Corners of The Earth”

Ormonde Jayne has a new collection of fragrances out on the market. I thought I’d share the press release as they sound fascinating. They are not yet listed on the company’s website, though I believe they will be soon. (By the way, all funky errors in formatting and in transferring the format of the original document are my own.)

OJ Four Corners

‘THE FOUR CORNERS OF THE EARTH’




 

 

Linda Pilkington, founder and creative director of Ormonde Jayne, has relentlessly scoured the globe, obsessed with her quest to source the world’s most rarest and exotic oils to complete her exquisite perfume library.

The Four Corners of the Earth is a collection of four perfumes which pays homage to the different parts of the world that have inspired her and acknowledge the rich diversity of her hometown, London.

This extraordinary, cosmopolitan and ever-changing city is her epicentre – a crossroads from where she views the world and a unique location where diversity can be experienced on every corner. From this global village, Ormonde Jayne celebrates ‘The Four Corners of the Earth’.

‘At last I have fulfilled my lifetime’s dream – I have brought together some of the world’s rarest and most elusive scents:  from the deserts of The East, the jungles of Latin America, the ancient walled cities of China and from Russia of the Romanov Tsars’.

The Editions:
Montabaco: Latin America
Tsarina: Russia
Nawab of Oudh: India and the Gulf
Qi: China

 MONTABACO

OJ Montabaco

‘Montabaco is a perfume to capture the essence of Latin America: leather, suede, wood and tobacco leaf repeated over and over again creating a suggestive sensuality and Latino temperament. It sits above the rich floral presence of magnolia, jasmine and rose. It is all unashamedly seductive yet profoundly simpatico. 

top: air note, orange absolute, bergamot, juniper, clary sage, cardamom.
heart: magnolia, hedione, rose, violet, tea notes.
base: tobacco leaf, iso e, suede, sandalwood, moss, tonka, ambergris.
MONTABACO
Size      100ml eau de parfum
Price    £260.00

NAWAB OF OUDH

OJ Nawab

‘Nawab (Ruler) of Oudh is a province of central India. The perfume is inspired by the Nawabs who once ruled over it.  It is a potent blend of amber and rose with a soft oudh edge. Yet surprisingly not one ingredient stands out from the others. It achieves a perfume synergy that defies traditional analysis, releasing a pulsating pungency, brooding and hauntingly beautiful, a rich tapestry of fascinating depths, a jewelled veil to conceal its emotional complexity and extravagance. 

top : green notes, bergamot, orange abs, cardamom, aldehyde. 
heart : rose, magnolia, orchid, pimento, bay, cinnamon, hedione. 
base : ambergris, musk, vetiver, labdanum, oudh.
NAWAB OF OUDH
Size   100ml eau de parfum
Price    £332.00

TSARINA

OJ Tsarina

‘Tsarina captures opulence and passion. It demands fur, leather, brocade, heavy silks in sweeping dresses and fabulous jewels to go with her haughty heritage. To call it a floral oriental is to misunderstand its rich complexity, it is more baroque. The perfume is profound, blending leather notes, rich Madagascan vanilla, amber and orris butter.’ This is a powerhouse perfume, ravishing and regal, distinctive and synonymous with the glamorous world of luxe.

top: mandarine, bergamot, coriander, cassis.
heart: hedione, freesia, jasmine, sambac, iris, suede. 
base: sandalwood, cedar, vanilla bean base, labdanum, musk.
TSARINA
Size      100ml eau de parfum
Price    £280.00

QI

 OJ Qi‘Qi (pronounced “key” or “chi”) means Breath of Life. It’s an ancient word that permeates the Chinese language and everyday life. This perfume is inspired by the Chinese people’s love for the lightest and most delicate scents. Qi is constructed to make no great statement thus offending no-one, it does not tear down any great walls but is rather something more spectacular, like an amazing dawn, a softly-scented fragile breeze, Qi is an honest, open and natural perfume, it makes its mark for those who don’t want to be too obvious but may feel unfinished without it.

top: green lemon blossom, neroli, freesia.
heart: tea notes, osmanthus, violet, hedione, rose.
base: mate, benzoin, musk, moss, myrrh.
QI
Size      100ml eau de parfum
Price    £260.00

 

ORMONDE JAYNE

‘THE FOUR CORNERS OF THE EARTH’ COLLECTION AVAILABLE FROM 

Ormonde Jayne Perfumery        Ormonde Jayne Perfumery        Ormonde Jayne Counter
12 The Royal Arcade                192 Pavilion Road                     Harrods, Black Hall

28 Old Bond St. London            Sloane Square, London              Knightsbridge, London
W1S 4SL                                  SW3 2BF                                 SW1X 7XL

T. 0207 499 1100                      T. 0207 730 1381                      T. 0207 730 1234

www.ormondejayne.com

Perfume Review – Ormonde Woman by Ormonde Jayne: The Dream Landscape

Thomas Gainsborough. "Open Landscape with Shepherd, Sheep and Pool." The Victoria and Albert Museum

Thomas Gainsborough. “Open Landscape with Shepherd, Sheep and Pool.” The Victoria and Albert Museum

If a perfume were a painting, I think Ormonde Woman would be one of Thomas Gainsborough’s famous landscapes. The perfume by the niche luxury house of Ormonde Jayne is reminiscent of the famed 18th century painter’s portrayal of nature, all bright light contrasted by dark intensity, hidden mystery, and hints of rich warmth. Gainsborough created a dream-like, hazy impression through soft brush strokes and, yet, there is the dark verisimilitude of the Dutch painters, like Rubens, who inspired him. Light and dark, depth and surfaces, reality and a dream — it is all simultaneously evoked by the brilliance that is Ormonde Woman.

The unisex perfume was the very first fragrance put out by Ormonde Jayne upon its debut in 2002, and it is the luxury perfume house’s signature scent. It is a scent of some renown, has received a five-star rating and was named as one of the 100 great classics by the perfume expert, Luca Turin, in The Little Black Book of Perfume: 100 Great Classics.

I’d heard vague, breathy mentions from people of this “amazing” scent, but never really paid much heed until some months ago when one of my oldest friends — who knows almost nothing about perfume — asked me about it. I was so taken aback by her interest (and in a niche perfume, no less!) that I ordered a sample. In all honesty, it took me months to get around to testing Ormonde Woman because I tend to be put off by things with a lot of hype. (I still haven’t seen the movie, Titantic. And I never will.) So my first foray into the Ormonde Jayne brand was with Tolu. It captivated me and rendered me weak with joyous admiration. It also made me determined to explore the brand’s signature perfume. And, you know what? The hype over Ormonde Jayne is fully warranted! Ormonde Woman

Ormonde Jayne is described on Fragrantica as a chypre, but I think Tania Sanchez has a better description in her book with Luca Turin entitled Perfumes: the A-Z Guide. There, she categorizes it as a “forest chypre.” (In a nutshell, a chypre perfume is a scent that begins with citrus notes and ends with either oakmoss, patchouli, musk, or some combination thereof. You can read a more detailed explanation of the important chypre category of fragrances in the Glossary.) Ms. Sanchez’ five-star review of Ormonde Woman helps explain, in part, why the perfume is so special:

Of the many feminine perfumes since [Chanel’s] Bois des Iles that have been composed around woody notes, the others that I can recall have been cozy, powdery-rosy, touched with mulling spices, with the warm furred feeling of a napping cat by the fire, or, more recently, hippie-inspired simple concoctions meant to evoke mostly the gorgeous smell of hard-to-get sandalwood oil. Ormonde Woman is the only abstract woody perfume I know that triggers the basic involuntary reflex, of stepping into a forest, to fill one’s lungs to bursting with the air. This is a full-fledged perfume with all of the sophistication of Bois des Iles and its ilk, but none of the sleepy comfort. Instead, it has the haunting, outdoors witchiness of tall pines leaning into the night — a bitter oakmoss inkiness, a dry cedar crackle, and a low, delicious, pleading sweet amber, like the call of a faraway candy house. Lulling and unsettling in equal measure, and truly great.

Gainsborough. "Moonlight Landscape with Pool."

Gainsborough. “Moonlight Landscape with Pool.”

I agree in large part with Ms. Sanchez’s review. I certainly agree that Ormonde Woman can be lulling and unsettling in equal measure, but I would also add some other adjectives to the mix: “mesmerizing,” “hypnotic,” and “unisex” for starters. However, I think it’s almost regrettable that she used the word “witchiness” in her paean to the perfume. It has led to a plethora of reviews talking about Ormonde Woman’s witchy aspect with a few unsettled posters even writing that they feel it is a scent best suited for Halloween. I think the adjective minimizes the perfume to something that is only a tiny part of its essence, and hardly the sum total.

The Tsuga tree or, "Black Hemlock."

The Tsuga tree or, “Black Hemlock.”

The source of all this magical business stems from one simple cause: Black Hemlock. It is the key to the Ormonde Woman and, though it may conjure up images of warlocks and witches, it is actually just a type of spruce tree. To be more specific, it is the name for a pine tree of the Tsuga genus. Ormonde Jayne was the very first perfume house to use the ingredient — a sign of its innovative, creative approach to perfumery — and, according to Wikipedia, others have followed suit.

Linda Pilkington, the founder, nose and soul behind the Ormonde Jayne brand, talked about the Black Hemlock note and the persona of the Ormonde Woman with the blog Riktig Parfym (formerly Fragrant Fanatic). I highly recommend reading the interview; there, as in all the other interviews that I’ve read with Ms. Pilkington, she comes across as charming, down-to-earth, self-deprecating, open, direct, and full of warmth. (I realise that I’m starting to sound like a crazed “fan girl,” as Americans put it, about Ms. Pilkington. I plead guilty.)  Her explanation of the ingredient is as follows:

Ormonde Woman is based on hemlock and there are 3 types of hemlock. There is the tree, the bush and the plant. The plant (which is not the hemlock used in OW) is poisonous and if you boil it and then drink the water you’ll first get a sensation that you’re feet are numbing and as the poison spreads through your body, you get paralyzed and die. This was used in 15th-16th centuries as a womans way to murder a man. As a woman usually is physically weaker she cannot strangle a man, but to boil a plant and put into his food isn’t usually a problem. And it’s still done today. So, the persona of Ormonde Woman is a woman who knows what she wants. She has long raven colored hair, wears a long black cape and rides through the woods at night, maybe to meet a lover?

Ormonde Woman and its notes are described on the company’s website as follows:

Beginning and ending with the unique scent of Black Hemlock absolute – rarely used in such luscious quality and quantity – this utterly hypnotic, unconventional and mysterious woody essence is combined with jasmine and violet absolute to create a dusky, seductive perfume.

Top NotesCardamom, coriander and grass oil
Heart Notes: Black hemlock, violet and jasmine absolute
Base Notes: Vetiver, cedar wood, amber and sandalwood.

Source: Miriadna.com.

Source: Miriadna.com.

Ormonde Woman opens on me with fresh, zesty citrus, bitter resin, a massive dollop of spice, and bright greens. At first, I thought it was like spicy grass but, after some contemplation, I think it’s more like fresh moss. Not oakmoss, per se, or, at least, not the usual oakmoss. There is none of the pungent, almost dusty, grey-mineralised aspects of the note. Instead, this is like the brightest moss were it jade green, wet from

Image: Moody. Source: Canadian Govt. Website.

Image: Moody. Source: Canadian Govt. Website.

dew, and covered with amberous spices. People are right when they say that it evokes the green, mossy floor of a forest. It is almost tinged with dark shadows; there is none of the sweet mildness of freshly cut grass on a summer’s day. That comes later. For now, the moss is wet and tinged by the cedar and sandalwood trees around it.

Yet, the real focus in the opening hour is the Black Hemlock. It is fascinating. Resinous evergreen with burnt notes and black licorice. The strength and prominence of the note seems to vary widely with the amount of the perfume used. In fact, I think the quantity you use may dramatically change your impression of the opening. The first time I tested Ormonde Jayne, I didn’t dab on a lot; only 2-3 tiny blots from the vial on each arm. With that amount, the Black Hemlock note was prominent, but not the sole focus. The second time, I dabbed on quite a bit (4-5 smears, approximating 2 big sprays per arm). The Black Licorice Wheelsresult was as if a black cloud had suddenly descended upon the forest. There was a massive, monumental dose of black licorice, much more of a burnt aroma, and a contrasting cool, chilled, mentholated impression. For some reason, it calls to mind the image of something like tar. Not the tar that they use to pave roads but, rather, the treacly, thick, blackish paste found in Marmite. Actually, there is more than just a visual similarity to Marmite. There is a quiet saltiness underpinning the sweet spice. It’s faint, flickering in the background like a ghost, but it’s there.

Antique Spice Drawer on Etsy. Source: Prairie Antiques.

Antique Spice Drawer on Etsy. Source: Prairie Antiques.

In greater doses, the spice accords in the perfume also gain heft, and my impression of bright green grass or dewy moss become much less. The faintly lemony note of coriander and the lightly spice earthy-sweet notes of the cardamom were much more noticeable. But something else was apparent. Star anise. I could swear that I smelled the Chinese Five Spice mix, dominated by its star anise element. There was also a strong impression of spiced wood, almost like a faintly dusty spice drawer in an old cabinet where the wood has absorbed decades of strong spices.

Tsuga Needles

Western Hemlock. Source: Puget Sound University.

The licorice was not only more prominent in greater doses the second time round, but so too were the mentholated, chilled camphor notes and the evergreen. Having never smelled Black Hemlock prior to now, I have no idea if the minty-mentholated notes come from the cedar or from the spruce/pine tree. Regardless, they become stronger and stronger until — 30 minutes in — the predominant note emanating from my arm is pine needles. They’re so fresh and concentrated, it’s as though you scraped them right off the tree and crushed them between your fingers.

An hour in, the pine needles fade and have their place taken by sandalwood. Ormonde Woman is actually the first time in a long time that I’ve smelled real, actual, genuine sandalwood in a truly prominent way. A large portion of the perfumes which claim to have that rare, exorbitantly expensive ingredient and which I’ve tested lately seem, to me, to have absolutely no visible, noticeable traces of it at all. In truth, after the recent test of one perfume which claimed to have sandalwood in its notes, I was starting to wonder if I even knew what it smelled like anymore.

Well, it’s here. And, it’s not synthetic! It is sweet, lightly smoky, like creamed honey and molten resin mixed with wood. I’m rather awed by its strength and character, given the scarcity of true sandalwood and its cost. In fact, the strength of the note here makes Ormonde Woman a modern call-back to  those rich sandalwood orientals of the 1970s and 1980s, before the Mysore wood was over-harvested and had to be placed under government protection. The sandalwood mixes with a faintly aromatic, woody, cedar-y scent; with the slightly green-sweet-earthy aspect of cardamom; with the bright, dewy, wet moss; and with a vague breath of something floral. It is a play on bitter and sweet, woody and green, wet and dry.

That vague floral note soon turns into pure, sweet jasmine. Ms. Pilkington has said she likes to work with hedione, a compound often used in conjunction with Jasmine Absolute (which is a part of Ormonde Woman). Hedione lends a vaguely green, fresh tone to the jasmine here. When combined with the lemony fresh notes of the coriander, they cut through any possible indolic heaviness that the flower may have, leaving only sweetness and brightness. I’m afraid that jasmine is the only real floral note that I can smell; in neither of my two tests could I really smell the violets that others have noted. Frankly, violet seems like such a dainty flower that I don’t know how it could possibly compete with the heavy woods, the faintly smoke elements, the resins and the spices.

In the middle stage and the final dry-down, those latter accords still remain. On me, it’s all creamy, delicious, intoxicating sandalwood, resinous amber, and faintly lemony wood. There is still a faintly tarry, smoky note, though the mentholated, almost camphorous notes of the cedar (and Black Hemlock?) have mostly dissipated. There is also the mild sweetness of summer’s grass and the earthy greenness of vetiver dancing in the shadows, faint but there nonetheless.

I have the oddest visual image in my mind: a large, chewy, sort of brownie square. It’s tarry, black, smoky, and moist with bits of light-brown cedar chips sticking out of it and chunks of chilly black licorice. It’s speckled with little glowing orbs of sweet, honeyed amber that dot its surface and the whole thing is wrapped in a box filled with jade-green, dewy moss, sweet emerald-green grass, and delicate white jasmine.

Gainsborough. "Landscape with Cows and Human Figure."

Gainsborough. “Landscape with Cows and Human Figure.”

But, most of all, I feel as though I have entered a Gainsborough landscape through a dream. To me, Ormonde Woman is a perfume of great contrasts where the woods are dark and mysterious, drawn in realistic detail, but there are contrasts of shining bright light and parts where everything is soft, hazed, romantic and dreamy. One is jolted at first, then enveloped in softness. Based on my experience with Tolu, I think such contrasts are something that Ms. Pilkington does very well. They are also one reason why there is such depth and complexity to her scents.

It is utterly mesmerizing, and most definitely unisex. Not feminine, but unisex! I’ve read that the men’s counterpart, Ormonde Man, has oudh and pink peppers in it, and that it’s supposed to be much less sweet. I haven’t tried it to know but, frankly, I think a man would smell divine in Ormonde Woman. In fact, it seems to be a big hit with men due to the strongly woody notes and the Black Hemlock.

That said, I don’t think Ormonde Woman is for everyone. It will be too masculine for women who prefer lighter, sweeter or floral scents. My friend who initially asked me about it months ago enjoys light, airy, fresh green scents; for someone like her, Ormonde Woman would be far too much: too tarry, too spicy, too woody. In addition, the bitter aspect of Black Hemlock seems to have been a problem for a number of people, leading them to react quite strongly. Interestingly, a few perfume bloggers who recoiled upon first essay ended up falling in love with the fragrance some time later after trying it again. So much so that they bought a full bottle!

On Fragrantica, one male poster, “smcandsmc,” wrote something that I think sums up the fragrance perfectly:

Stunning. Wow. Grassy top lifted me off the ground, gorgeous rich middle keeps me suspended in mid air. […]  Seriously having an out of body experience over this. Plotzing. When I read rhapsodic descriptions of the vintage classics in their vintage formulations that I will never experience, this is the depth, richness and quality I imagine.

The superb richness and quality that “smcandsmc” noted is a key characteristic of Ormonde Jayne scents. The perfumes consistently scream high-quality luxury in a way that has utterly transfixed me. I’m sure there will be some in the line that won’t suit my personal style, but the quality of those I’ve tried thus far cannot be denied. They have been outstanding across the board. You can tell that the highest quality ingredients were used in order to create the most luxurious, wonderfully indulgent, seductive experience possible. And the fragrances repeatedly meet the brand’s overall philosophy:

quality and true luxury, the pursuit of beauty and elegance. […]

[The return] to the golden age of perfumery, an elegant era when fragrance creation was a fine art.

Perhaps more importantly, Ormonde Jayne fragrances are approachable and wearable. They are not edgy, sometimes discordant, intellectual art that you would admire but rarely (or, in some cases, never) wear. I can see women and men alike wearing Ormonde Woman frequently, whether on special occasions, for a casual dinner, or just simply to the office (though I would advise caution with regard to the quantity used if you plan on wearing it there). Ormonde Woman has a high degree of concentration: 25% in its most basic form (which seems more akin to extrait de parfum for some other lines), so the sillage can be very strong depending on the amount sprayed. On me, Ormonde Woman wasn’t as strong or potent as Tolu, but it had good sillage for the first two hours, becoming close to the skin around 3 to 3.5 hours in. As a whole, it lasted around 6.5 hours on my perfume-consuming skin. On others, it generally seems to last a long time (8-10), though I’ve read some conflicting reports of its tenacity.

I could go on and on about both Ormonde Woman and the Ormonde Jayne line itself. Truth be told, my initial draft was well over 4,000 words! I have struggled to give you the essence without sounding like a crazed loon but, if space and my readers’ valuable time (not to mention patience) were not an issue, I would wax rhapsodic for several more hours about the astounding quality of the brand. The depth, the richness, the luxuriousness, the ease with which the perfumes transport you elsewhere upon first whiff, their almost lyrical nature….. it is a return to the “golden age of perfumery” indeed.

DETAILS:
Cost & AvailabilityOrmonde Woman is available in perfume extract (30%) and eau de parfum (25%) in 50 ml bottle, as well as in accompanying bath, lotion, cream and candle forms. It is available at the Ormonde Jayne boutique in London or on the company’s website. It is not sold in any department stores in the U.S. The website offers purchases in USD currency and, there, the cost of Ormonde Woman is as follows: a 1.7 oz/50 ml bottle of eau de parfum costs $126 (£80), while the pure parfum comes in a 1.7 oz/50 ml “premium French flacon with a gold OJ motif stopper and Japanese ribbons” and costs $300. There is a set of travel sized purse sprays (4 x 10ml) that costs $100 and a Discovery set of all 12 fragrances in 2 ml mini-sprays for $75. The perfume is also available at Harrods in London and, I’ve read, at Fortum & Mason. Please note that Harrods only sells Ormonde Woman in the expensive bottle for £184.00, not in the £80 bottle available on the brand’s own website. Ormonde Jayne fragrances are also sold in Brussels, Belgium at Senteurs d’Ailleurs (whose website is under construction, so I can’t link you to anything) and at Osswald in Zurich, Switzerland.
OJ Discovery SetI highly recommend the Discovery Set which the Ormonde Jayne website describes as follows: “Ormonde Jayne’s Discovery Set is comprised of 12 x 2ml mini sprays of eau de parfum, together with a brochure explaining each perfume, all housed in a black and gold box… and whats more, the shipping is complimentary worldwide.”
Samples: You can also order samples of Ormonde Woman from various sample sites. I obtained my sample from Surrender to Chance which sells samples starting at $3.99 for half of the standard 1 ml vial. It is also offers Ormonde Woman in parfum concentration for the same starting price. Surrender to Chance ships worldwide for about $5.95 (though it’s a little bit more for larger orders over $75), and for $2.95 for all orders within the U.S., regardless of the size of the order.

Perfume Review – Ormonde Jayne Tolu: A Perfect, Lovely Paradox

Paradox: (noun) A seemingly absurb or self-contradictory statement that, when investigated, may well prove to be true. Tolu, from the luxe niche London house of OJ ToluOrmonde Jayne, is a paradox in the most mesmerizing way possible. It is an airy, breezy, narcotically heady, heavy, dewy green, freshly orange floral… no, I mean, lushly spicy amberous oriental, no, I mean, a woody, balsam and pine smoky floriental…  It is a contradiction that delights, that keeps your nose plastered to your arm, that awes you with its heady, airy opulence, and that recalls the happiest moments of carefree youth while making you feel every inch a sophisticated adult. It is intoxicating. And I cannot recommend it enough.

Linda Pilkington, founder of Ormande Jayne.

Linda Pilkington, founder of Ormonde Jayne.

Ormonde Jayne is a high-end, niche London perfume house founded by Linda Pilkington in 2002. She sounds like a fascinating woman. According to her biography on the website, her passion for perfumery began early, as a teenager, and this “led Linda to her first career, growing and selling flowers by the roadside outside her Cheshire family home. She also learnt to make scented candles and bathing oils from craft sets and courses, and created beautiful scented cushions for birthday and Christmas presents.” After years spent travelling and exploring the world, working in places from South America, Africa and the Far East, soy bean farms to ice cream parlours, she returned to London where she began making her own perfumes. She showed her creations at a London trade show where she won repeatedly. And then she was asked to make “the perfect, scented candle” for Chanel itself. After that, in 2002, she opened her own boutique and her perfumes have received praise ever since, including a number of 5- and 4-star reviews from Luca Turin.

Ormonde Jayne’s philosophy is simple:

one of quality and true luxury, the pursuit of beauty and elegance. Our perfume library reposes on an exquisitely simple principle – extraordinarily beautiful scents using speciality oils not widely used in the perfume industry today.

Her goal is to return

to the golden age of perfumery, an elegant era when fragrance creation was a fine art, when essential oils and absolutes were allowed to infuse for a period of months before filtration and then allowed to mature again before bottling, resulting in a deeper, more complex perfume.

Honestly, I cannot recall the last time I was so impressed with a niche house upon my very first sniff, and I plan to investigate her whole line, sample by sample. My first exposure to Frederic Malle, Serge Lutens, Amouage, L’Artisan, Tom Ford, By Kilian, Caron, Montale, and a whole host of other lines never resulted in anything like this. My reactions to those houses varied from indifference to ambivalence, from liking to loving (but not feeling utterly compelled to buy), to truly not understanding what all the fuss was about. Ormonde Jayne is different. It’s not simply that Tolu was bewitching, but that the perfume smells unbelievably luxurious and rich in that genuinely old-school, classique manner of the haute French perfume houses of yesteryear. THIS is what perfumes used to be, almost across the board, and what they are so rarely today.

This is class. It is class, purity, and luxury made simple but, yet, also made fresh and modern at the same time. It’s like smelling the vintage version of some great classic, but made even better. No wonder Luca Turin seems to think that Ormonde Jayne is beating Caron and Guerlain at their own game. I hadn’t believed him when I read that statement a while back and, in truth, I don’t always agree with Mr. Turin, but dammit, he’s absolutely correct in this instance. “Tolu is the kind of fragrance Guerlain or Caron would be turning out regularly if all was right in the world[.]”

If I ever met Ms. Pilkington, I would hug her for returning some of my wide-eyed innocence and belief, after feeling far too long jaded, cynical and oh so depressed at the current state of perfumes in this IFRA-infected world. I would also hug her for her blunt statement in a 2010 interview with the Perfume Shrine that she will never reformulate her perfumes, allergies be damned! “No, we haven’t reformulated anything. I never will. Nor discontinue any in our fragrance rotation. We have 12 fragrances now and I absolutely love each and every one of them. I don’t want to make any changes!” When asked what she would say to a customer asking about allergic reactions, her response was:

I say “If you think madame that it might be give you any risk of an allergic reaction, it would be best if you didn’t buy this perfume”. We talk over some of the ingredients (if the customer knows about any specific trigger or if we think there might be some) and I say “just don’t buy it”. In the end, I don’t give a f*ck if they buy or not, as long as we’re stand our ground and do not mislead. *laughing*

Fascinating as Ms. Pilkington is, nothing is more so than Tolu. I’m hard-pressed not to summarize my entire review in one word: heaven! But, in an attempt to make you understand why I am so thrilled (and why I had to keep stopping writing to sniff my arms), let me tell you more about the scent itself. According to Fragrantica (where it has nary a single bad review), Tolu is classified as a Woody Oriental. (I think there should be a new category entitled “Perfect Paradox.”) It is technically a woman’s eau de parfum, though I think a man could pull this off, especially during the dry-down.

Ormonde Jayne’s website states:

Perfume treasure, this opulent velvety formulation with pure Tolu resin [a Peruvian tree resin] takes you on a sensual Oriental journey. Laced with golden frankincense and amber, the scent’s core is enveloped with a heady mix of orange blossom and clary sage, while intense citrus notes consolidate the harmony.

Top Notes: Juniper berry, orange blossom and clary sage
Heart Notes: Orchid, Moroccan rose and muguet [lily-of-the-valley]
Base Notes: Tolu, tonka bean, golden frankincense and amber.

You know those word association games? I put on Tolu and the very first word that shoots across my brain is “Enchanting!” In fact, that is the first thing I jotted down. There is warm, billowing blanket of orange blossom which immediately rolls onto thenerolifruitandflowersb skin. It’s not screechy, sharp and overpoweringly cloying like Tom Ford‘s Neroli Portofino, nor is it overly sweet like many synthetic orange scents. It’s also not light and imperceptible like the orange in a few niche perfumes. It’s heady in a soft way, and is one of the brightest, freshest orange blossom scents I’ve smelled in a long time. The sillage is also powerful, which makes me ecstatic as, far too often for my liking, orange blossom is merely a faint hint amongst many supporting notes. Not here. It is the star, stage center, with the brightest lights shining on it.

mimosa-flower-200x300

Mimosa in the South of France.

I must confess at the outset that I have a monumental weakness for orange blossom that supercedes many other ingredients or notes that I love. And the orange blossom here reminds me strongly of the oils or essences used in my favorite body cream, Couvent de Minimes Orange Blossom. Here, as there, there is a purity to the scent that makes it clear that real oils were used in the product. It calls to mind my childhood in Cannes with visits to Provence; I am immediately transported back to my old home at the end of Spring. Summer is around the corner, and there is a vast sea of orange trees in bloom along side golden mimosas bushes swaying in the wind under blue skies that are neither hazy with heat nor pale eggshell blue from the winter. The orange is intoxicating, narcotic and, yet, so airy at the same time that it feels like fizzy champagne in an odd way. It’s been only 15 minutes and, yet, I ponder currency exchanges in my head and whether my bank account can afford an immediate purchase, while the sane part of my brain pleads to wait out the full development of the perfume before acting rashly.

ijunipe001p4

Juniper berries.

Thirty minutes in, a faintly smoky warmth starts to creep in. Amber that is rich, almost nutty, and with a faint hint of smoke from incense. Oddly, the scent on one arm is very different from that on the other where I smell no amber at all but, rather, crisp pine needles and balsam. It must come from the juniper berries listed in the top notes, and it is fresh, bright and rich — as if plucked just moments before from living trees growing on the high reaches of the snowy Alps. Clearly, some extremely expensive oils must have been used because at no time does it smell sharp, synthetic, or like the common air-freshener sort of pine in some perfumes. On both arms, the orange blossoms seem to have receded momentarily, as if to make way for the fresh, woody pines and amber, but it is just for a moment. The orange blossom is not only the quietly solid foundation upon which other notes rest, but a permanent part of this opening stage.

Soon, the juniper recedes and the flowers return. As always, there is the rich top head of orange blossom but there are other accompanying notes, too, even if they are but supporting players on the stage. There is also orchid and lily-of-the-valley. Orchid is a hard scent to describe, or even to classify, as it can smell of a variety of different things, depending on type. To me, white orchids can sometimes evoke the light purple impression of lilac and hyacinth, but in an oddly earthy way. That is the way the orchid seems to smell here. Lily-of-the-valley (or muguet) smells somewhat similar to my nose, bouquet-de-muguetwithout the earthy richness. The Perfume Shrine describes lily-of-the-valley as follows:

Lily of the valley is technically a green floral with rosy-lemony nuance [which] … has been adequately used in classical fragrances as a catalyst to “open up” and freshen the bouquet of the other floral essences in the heart, much like we allow fresh air to come in contact with an uncorked red wine to let it “breathe” and bring out its best.

To me, however, lily-of-the-valley is a light, fresh floral note that smells almost like a green, lilac-hyacinth hybrid. Here, it counters the headiness of the orange blossom with freshness that is dewy and ethereally light. It is almost sheer, and yet, it has depth and richness. The note makes Tolu, in these very early stages, call to mind the delicacy of Dior‘s Diorissimo, a very lily-of-the-valley scent.

Thus far, Tolu has leaned far more towards a floral scent than an oriental, let alone a spicy woody one. There are amber notes which flicker back and forth, but, for the first two hours, I have the reverse experience of what some people report. I don’t get spice right off the bat at all. There is the Diorissimo resemblance from the lily-of-the-valley, along with some rose and the hyacinth-like notes of orchid. And all of this is within the warm haze of orange blossom. The latter is something which projects outwards, while the other scents are closer to the skin, almost as if they were inside a big, airy, orange coccoon.

I can now smell the clary sage, but never think that it is the same sort of sage that you use in cooking. According to a helpful discussion on Basenotes, clary sage is nothing like regular (Dalmatian) sage that you have in your herb rack. It is sweeter, fresher and with a hint of peppermint, while Dalmatian sage is more bitter, biting and aromatic. Clary sage is also said to have elements of lavender in its odor profile and, sometimes, even of green tea. Here, it adds to the impression of freshness and lightness in Tolu, while also adding a faintly minty, sweet note that cuts through some of the richness of the orange blossom. It’s almost as if a faintly minty lavender note has joined those orange blossoms and dewy, green flowers, but it’s so light that I wonder if I imagine it at times.

That lightness, along with much of the airiness in Tolu, brings me to one of the perfume’s several lovely contradictions. It is airy and light, while narcotically heady and heavy. I realise that I’m not making much sense. It is the ultimate example of a paradox and really requires that you test out this scent yourself to understand it. The best way I can explain it is that there are two polar opposite groups of scents here. The first is the dewy, fresh, green, spring-like notes: lily-of-the-valley; white orchid; lavender-y and minty clary sage; and then, lilac and hyacinth (though they are not listed as ingredients, their smell is there to me). It flashes colours of white, lavender, soft lilac and bright green, all in a soft, airy light of the dawn’s first dew. The second competing group is the scent of just one thing: orange blossoms. Narcotically heavy, almost inducing an obsessive inability to resist sniffing my arm, triggering an utter delirium of joy amidst the flashing colours of bright orange at the heart of noon. It is a paradox, yes, but it is also a sign of a masterful hand. I contemplate why I only smelled Tolu after Christmas, and not before when it would have been at the very top of my wish list.

An hour in, rich vanilla starts to appear. It’s creamy, not powdery, and smells faintly like a rich, banana custard. It almost makes me think of ylang-ylang but there is no such ingredient in Tolu. Some people on Fragrantica have referenced an oriental milky rice note, but I think the accord is far richer and heavier than the light sort of milky rice note I associate with scents like Kenzo‘s Amour line. I think the issue here is the combination of tonka bean and tolu balsam. Tonka bean smells of vanilla, while tolu balsam is a tree resin. Unlike benzoin, another resin, tolu balsam has a nutty, sometimes almond-like accord to accompany its vanilla and cinnamon heart. (You can read more about tolu balsam and other resins in the Glossary.) It has a greater richness and depth than the often powdery benzoin accord.

Soon, tolu balsam’s soft, lush, warm vanilla notes are joined by spice and smoke. I smell rich frankincense, but it is not peppery or dirty. The vanilla from the tonka bean and its accompanying powder notes soften the blunt edges of the frankincense, turning the latter into a light swirl of black smoke, rather than a heavy darkness. The rich resins and the myrrh create an impression of caramel and amber, but touched with a woody pine accord.

Three hours in, and all the way to the end of its dry-down at hour seven, Tolu is all incense, vanilla, honeyed amber and caramel, with a hint of pine. The subtle smoke and incense are gorgeous, as is the surprising earthiness that contradicts the velvety softness underlying the sweet scent. That said, for me, the dry-down never really progresses much beyond the panoply of resinous notes. It’s lovely, rich and soft, but I preferred those hypnotic opening and middle notes. (It’s hardly surprising given my passion for orange blossom.)

All in all, this is an utterly luxurious, captivating scent. It doesn’t perform twists of complexity, doesn’t have suddenly crazy notes popping in at a random stage, doesn’t try to shock you with something edgily disturbing, and doesn’t do anything other than the promise Ormonde Jayne made at the outset: “one of quality and true luxury, the pursuit of beauty and elegance.” It is a perfume that I have to have. It is a scent that will make me join the legion of admirers on Fragrantica who repeat “gorgeous,” “sophisticated,” and “classy” like a broken record. It smells of wealth and luxury; the sunny South of France interposed with the pine-covered snowy Alps of Gstaad, and the smoke of the Orient. It is a paradox wrapped in opulence, but it enchants you from the very first whiff. And it is utterly perfect.

DETAILS:
Sillage & Longevity: Enormous sillage for the first three hours, then closer to the skin. However, on others, the projection is reported to last even longer. As for longevity, it was quite good, though as always you have to keep in mind that my body consumes perfume. On me, I could smell traces of it on my arm seven hours after putting it on. It was soft, but it was there. On others, the longevity is reported to be enormous.
Cost & Availability: The fragrance is available in perfume extract (30%) and eau de parfum (25%) in 50 ml flacon. Tolu is available at the Ormonde Jayne store in London, at Harrods in London, Fortum & Mason, or on Ormonde Jayne’s website. It is not sold in any department stores in the U.S. The website offers purchases in USD currency and, until January 14th, 2013, all shipping is complimentary with a hand-poured candle is offered as a free gift. The website’s page for purchases in US dollar lists the costs of Tolu as follows: a 1.7 oz/50 ml bottle of eau de parfum costs $126, while the pure parfum comes in a 1.7 oz/50 ml “premium French flacon with a gold OJ motif stopper and Japanese ribbons” and costs $300. There is a set of travel sized purse sprays (4 x 10ml) that costs $100 and a Discovery set of all 12 fragrances in 2 ml mini-sprays for $75. The latter is described as follows: “Ormonde Jayne’s Discovery Set is comprised of 12 x 2ml mini sprays of eau de parfum, together with a brochure explaining each perfume, all housed in a black and gold box… and whats more, the shipping is complimentary worldwide.” Tolu is also available in different bath, lotion, cream and candle forms. Harrods sells a 50 ml/1.7 oz bottle of Tolu for £80.00. Ormonde Jayne fragrances are also sold in Brussels, Belgium at Senteurs d’Ailleurs and at Osswald in Zurich, Switzerland.
Samples: You can also order samples of Tolu from various sample sites. The one I use, Surrender to Chance, sells samples starting at $3.99 for half of the standard 1 ml vial. Surrender to Chance ships worldwide for about $5.95 (though it’s a little bit more for larger orders over $75), and for $2.95 for all orders within the U.S., regardless of the size of the order.