Showing posts with label vetiver series. Show all posts
Showing posts with label vetiver series. Show all posts

Monday, January 19, 2009

Turtle Vetiver Exercise 1 by Les Nez: fragrance review

the Navagio beach on Zakynthos/Zante island in Greece
"In Lebanon, at the border with Israel, there is a turtle sanctuary. It is the result of being a protected area during the civil war. The almost extinct Mediterranean sea turtle was allowed to flourish. This is something good that came out of the war. This is poetry. I have gone through my own corporeal civil war and TURTLE is my sanctuary and celebration".

~Michael H Shamberg

"Outlaw Perfume in Progress" sounds like contraband that is waiting to change hands in some faraway country full of sailors with dirty pea-coats. But in reality it is Turtle Vetiver by Les Nez, perfumer Isabelle Doyen's contribution to the creative network Turtle salon, "an anarchic salon", masterminded by Michael H.Shamberg. The quirky, poetic and catchy name brought me memories of the endangered caretta caretta turtles (the loggerhead turtles) ~one of the oldest species in the world, alive when dinosaurs roamed the planet~ I had seen protected in the sanctuary of Zakynthos (Zante) island in Greece. Something so durable through the fabric of time itself, yet so fragile: The hatchlings have to complete an arduous journey to the sea once they've come out of their sand-buried eggs. Heading towards the brightest light, hopefully what is the moon's reflection on the horizon over the sea, before the hot sun comes up and fries them alive and before sea birds have them for prey. Only few survive, but those few are resilient, proud, swimming tall. But the affairs of man, never too far off the affairs of nature, lie close by on the ShipWreck or Navagio beach, one of the most photographed beaches of Greece, its name coming from the ship which was wrecked in 1983 while carrying smuggled cigarettes.
Turtle Vetiver seems to be a parallel story of surviving hardship, small or bigger personal tragedies and smuggling hope; and on its cragged planes one can feel the emotion of having come up victorious.

Turtle Vetiver Exercise 1 is a hard-core vetiver for true-blue fans of the earthy deliciousness that responds to the name of that miraculously tenacious root and I feel like it became a symbol for the project same as turtles. The rough opening of "dirty and gritty vetiver roots before the soil and sand grains have been rinsed off" as Ayala described it is a prelude to a leitmotif of dark, edgy, earthy treatment of the note; remakably close to the pure essential oil, yet more palatable with a spicy edge and an almost salty undernote. It feathers out slowly, becoming clearer and clearer all the while like mud water shifted through a sieve.
In a way I am envisioning a cross between the nautical, iodine-rich Vetyver of Annick Goutal and the craggy, wet cobblestones of Vetiver Extraordinaire.
If you are wondering whether it might be too hard for you, you might reconsider because it certainly would. But if you want to be surprised by just how many interpretations are possible in this fascinating material, Turtle Vetiver is an intriguing addition.

Isabelle Doyen makes small erratic batches of Turtle Vetiver and plans on changing the formula constantly. Therefore Exercise 1 is simply the version currently in stock at Les Nez, it might change later on. Samples can be ordered from the LesNez website.

Related reading on Perfume Shrine: Vetiver Series, Les Nez fragrances.



Song Ερωτικο/"Erotic", sung by Haris Alexiou, lyrics by Alkis Alkaios, music by Thanos Mikroutsikos. Written in memory of Marxist philosopher Nikos Poulantzas who commited suicide in Paris.

Lyrics translation by helg:

In a pirogue you set off and wander
when the rain gets stronger
In the land of Visigoths you wander
and Hanging Gardens seduce you
but you're sawing your own wings slowly.

Saltiness covered your naked body,
I brought you fresh water from Delphi
You said that your life would be cut in two pieces
and before I had the chance to deny you three times
the key of heavens had got rusty.

The caravan is rushing through the dust
chasing your shadow along
How could a sheet calm the mind,
how could the Mediterranean be tied with rope,
my love, whose name was Antigone.

Which melody of the night has tempted you
and in which galaxy could I find you?
Here is Attica, a grey pit
and I am but a shooting ground
where foreign soldiers train cursing.



Pic of Navagio Beach (the Shipwreck) on Zakynthos/Zante island in Greece by jjbach/flickr. (Beach accesible only by boat, leaving daily from Porto Bromi.) Song originally uploaded by kostasdiefhon on Youtube

Tuesday, November 25, 2008

Ormonde Jayne Zizan for men: fragrance review

Zizan by Ormonde Jayne comes as a prolepsis of sorts after a variegation of scents that want to appeal to men's feminine side, getting them in touch with flowers or traditionally girlier concepts such as Dior Homme, Kenzo Power and Prada Infusion d'Homme. Not jarringly different than announced, Zizan is hairy-chested in a supreme Sean Connery Scottish-accent-in-place way when he's stoically sighing "Oh, the things I do for England" as he undresses yet another of his female conquests atop a helicopter no less, getting us right back to 1967. A fragrance of the good-old times when men were men (and the sheep were very nervous!); when they opened the door for you and never offered to split the check. I could live without some of the other addendum to that era, but one can't deny a certain sweet nostalgia for things ironically one hasn't lived through.

Although to the world traveller the name recalls the Zizan people of Myanmar, in fact it simply derives from vetiver zizanoides, the Latin taxonomy for vetiver species (and if you're missing out on what this mysterious grass is and the magical things it does to fragrances read our Vetiver Series). Funnily enough, the name "zizan" is given in Greek to any stubborn weed that emphatically refuses to be eradicated and metonymically to personalities in a similar vein. Perhaps this is exactly the description of the sort of man (or emancipated woman) that would fit Ormonde Jayne Zizan perfectly: stubborn, sturdy yet gentlemanly solid.

The crescent of the duration of the fragrance on skin resembles the course of dawn to dusk with the brighter citrusy elements gaining momentum to then slowly pave the way to autumnal shades of lightly smokier mists. Three varieties of vetiver and hesperides' essences combine to produce a lasting and refined old-style cologne that outlasts Isfarkand (with its bracing opening that soon pales). With elements of the refreshing, refined and care-free style of classic Roudnitska creation Eau Sauvage (citrus, hedione, vetiver) along with the aromatic accents (laurel, clary sage) of Paco Rabanne pour homme, Zizan includes a discreetly sweet little note that surfaces much later along with the woody, dry elements coalescing on the skin and lending it the mantle of humaness. I think Ormonde Man is more unusual and perhaps therefore more intriguing, but I cannot deny the charm that such an elegant allusion to a bygone retro handsomeness produces.

Women could partake of this essentially burly, macho fragrance as a memento of a close encounter that retains the dejection of parting or as an exploration of how liberating it feels to wear something so wonderfully masculine. King Leonidas is guarding his own Thermopylae as always, he's smelling fabulous and I don't think he's set to lose this time!

Notes for Zizan:
Top: Sicilian lime, lemon, bergamot,clary sage, pink pepper, juniperberry.
Heart: Bay, violet and jasmine.
Base: Vetiver, cedar, musk and amber.

Ormonde Jayne Zizan for Men comes in Eau de Parfum ceoncentration in 50ml/1.7oz bottles for 64£ in the classic Ormonde Jayne presentation. Available directly from the Ormonde Jayne boutique in London and Dubai and from her site.

One sample will be given to a lucky reader! (Enter your name in the comments)

Further related reading on Perfume Shrine: an interview with perfumer & founder Linda Pilkington here and a review of Tolu.



Pic of Gerlad Butler via gerald-butler.net. Pic of Zizan bottle via Ormonde Jayne.

Friday, October 24, 2008

Vetiver Tonka by Hermes: fragrance review and lucky draw

To bean or not to bean? The answer at Hermès is there is no bean counting in their pursuit for true luxury, but when it comes to perfumery, they go tonka bean all the way! What's the point of my word-play? That the delectable raw material of tonka beans has been utilised in the most delicious way paired with earthy vetiver in their mouthwatering fragrance Vétiver Tonka. Composed by in-house perfumer Jean Claude Ellena in 2004 as part of the original quartet for Hermès's exclusive collection for their boutiques, the Hermessences, Vétiver Tonka was meant to interpret the sensation of wool. (the other Hermessences also capture the drape of various fabrics). "Comfortable, fresh, affirmed" is how they chose to describe it themselves and I couldn't agree more.

Subtly edible notes with cigar-flavoured accents are folded into a classy amalgam by the genius light hand of a conjurer: Jean Claude Ellena's strongest suit. The warm smokiness that alludes to pouches of rich tobacco is an element that I am sorely missing in the current batches of the classic Vétiver by Guerlain where it was providing an inviting hug after the grassy delights, but happily the coumarin-rich smell of tonka beans remains intact. Guerlain's version is of course overall much more citrusy, vetiver in itself possessing an hesperidic facet that is often used as a springboard in composing masculine colognes around it. Jean Claude merely hints at that aspect of the exotic grass seguing on to "cleaner" notes that almost instantenously get the smothering treatment of an artistic flou via hazy notes, much like the flour part of his Bois Farine for L'artisan parfumeur.

Vétiver Tonka encompasses the tempered note of vetiver that re-appeared in Terre d'Hermès two years later ~also by Ellena. He seems to love the material, using the Haitian vetiver essential oil, vetiverol as well as vetyveryl acetate. Ever since Déclaration, a spicy masterpiece in my opinion, he has been using all those beloved materials in various incarnations, all the way to the specifically ordered vetiver extraction he procured for the intriguing and perplexing Un Jardin après la Mousson. That said, lovers of strong, dank, almost musty vetiver should rather look for it in Route de Vetiver by Maitre Parfumer et Gantier or Vétiver Extraordinaire by F.Malle.

The violet-like note of alpha isomethyl-ionone (which is sniffable in another Hermessence too, Paprika Brasil, where it takes almost an iris nuance) is the humorous touch that Jean Claude tricks us with: he did the same thing pairing beta ionone (also reminiscent of violets) with hedione to come up with the scent of tea in Bulgari's Eau parfumée au Thé Vert.
The dominant force however is tonka bean , which has a hay/caramel vanilla-ish scent, very soothing, very creamy. Smelling it from the bottle or on a blotter at first it seems a bit clashing ~to be excpected since the two elements are so antithetical on first reading, but on skin it is predominantly sweetish, velvety soft and nutty-oily, which I find sublimely comforting. The naturally dry and woody smell of vetiver as well as a slight bitterness inherent in tonka beans provide a counterpoint to the sweet float of the vanillic base, so the whole is perfectly balanced between dryness and comfort; which sets it one step ahead of the equally mouthwatering but much more gourmand Ambre Narguilé from the same line and for me personally makes it more wearable in warmer weather than the denser Vétiver Oriental by Serge Lutens. This charming duet dances in situ for hours with little change, but boredom never enters the equation as the combined efforts sing at an unheard of before frequency. Additionally there is an interplay of cool and warm facets which makes for stimulating results making Vétiver Tonka suitable for every climate and every season. It lasts very well for an eau de toilette, perhaps more than any other in the collection, is perfectly unisex and has moderate, elegant sillage.

So to answer my introductory word-play, I have been for the bean in a most decisive way ever since I first tried it: Reader, I have spent most of last summer in it!

For one lucky reader interested in a sample triad of the last three niche vetivers reviewed (Malle, Lutens, Hermes), plase state your interest in the comments.
Draw will run throughout the weekend.
Notes for Vétiver Tonka : bergamot, neroli, lily of the valley, cereal notes, dried fruit, tonka bean, vetiver, tobacco, sandalwood.

Vétiver Tonka by Hermès (2004) forms part of the Hermessences exclusive collection, sold at their boutiques in spartan bottle with leather-covered caps. It comes in either 100ml/2.4oz or a set of 4x15ml/0.5oz travel set sprayers. (There is also the option of getting it in a set of pre-selected 15ml travel sprayers along with 3 other Hermessences for the uniform price of 150 euros).

For a comprehensive analysis of vetiver fragrances click Vetiver Series.


Pic of Ralph Fiennes courtesy of Evy Nef at photobucket. Bottle pic through Fragrantica.

Thursday, October 23, 2008

Vetiver Oriental by Serge Lutens: fragrance review

Sporadically one comes across a perfume composition that is perplexing yet enthralling like a chameleon actor who manages to marry opposites, hiding a little cruelty under a suave façade.
Serge Lutens has made history in producing influencial "chef d'oeuvres". His Vétiver Oriental, although not extrapolating the oriental zenith that other fragrances in his line accomplish in a more assured way, such as El Attarine , Arabie or Douce Amère, is stunning nevertheless. The reason is as much aesthetic as it is intellectual: I cannot shake the impression that the task of scaling down, of attenuating the formula to the richness and sumptuousness of the material's roots is an algebric challenge, a piano étude aimed at perfecting a specific agilité that is not in tune with the Lutensian way of usual opulence.
And yet...and yet the result speaks in hushed, nocturnal voices of a decadent drawl; a few chiseled citrusy consonants, a little rubbery-smoky with the rosiness of gaiac wood, surprisingly sweet-spoken licorice-like (deriving from lots of anisaldehyde) with the earthy bitter edge of dry cocoa and loads and loads of polished woods, almost laminated. The natural earthiness of vetiver is heavily flanked by this strange bittersweet idea which was accordingly used in tandem with patchouli in Bornéo 1834 to magnificent results. The quiet plush of balsams and resins (perhaps Peru balsam?) and animalic-like ladbanum elements bring the recollection of warm skin not stripped of its natural oils through the use of perfumes and deodorants, a tad salty. There are some common elements with Le Baiser du Dragon by Cartier which uses vetiver in an orientalised composition of amaretto hints and a tropical white flower in order to cut through the sweetness.

However if the onomatopœia is anything to go by, Serge Lutens and his trusty cohort Christopher Sheldrake, fooled us into believing this is a vetiver-sounding fragrance: it is not and therein lies its strength or weakness. Contrary to the painful pureness of Vétiver Extraordinaire by Frédéric Malle, Vétiver Oriental goes for the trajectory of the root, inviting a Guess Who? game like the late Theresa Duncan used to say; veering into the quasi-gourmand makes it a fabulous amuse-guele but somehow too much as a main course. Nevertheless, this is the time of year when it naturally shines its golden viscosity: the crisp weather brings out all its velvety attributes while its exceptional lasting power and moderate sillage are welcome comforts.

My friend Gaia wrote:"What I'm getting is a feeling of a dark jungle, exotic and wild. As it unfolds its beauty, you also sense the danger that lurks just behind, tempting you to go in deeper". If Vetiver Oriental is indeed a lion in the jungle, then it is the emaciated Scar with his almond shaped green eyes lowly roaring in silvery tones "a shining new era is tiptoeing nearer; just listen to teacher".

Notes for Vetiver Oriental: sap, musk, sandalwood, Iris Pallida, undergrowth notes, amber, chocolate, rockrose labdanum, vetiver, gaiac wood, mosses.

Vetiver Oriental is a Palais Royal Paris exclusive created in 2002 contained in the characteristic bell-shaped jars. It was released for export for a limited time only for winter 2004 in the refined, sparse rectangular bottle. It has now reverted back to exclusive status.

For a comprehensive analysis of vetiver fragrances click Vetiver Series.


Jeremy Irons pic via Getty images, bottle pic via Les Salons du Palais Royal

Wednesday, October 22, 2008

Vetiver Extraordinaire by Frederic Malle: fragrance review

If in vetiver veritas you pledge your allegiance, look no further. The whooping percentage of pure unadulterated vetiver essence in Vétiver Extraordinaire for Editions des Parfums Frédéric Malle goes for indubitably maximum overload for hardcore vetiver fans: you'd be hard-pressed to find one that contains more Haïtain vetiver out there (an alleged 25%) or is less devoid of the oily decorations of other contenstants.
Luca Turin praised perfumer Dominique Ropion's work here by saying that "lead-pencil cedar notes and a touch of lemon [...] act as makeup to hollow the cheeks of perfumery vetiver and give it back some of the striking bone structure of the starting material". I will go further and say that Vétiver Extraordinaire with its raw, wet cobblestones intensity recalls craggy faces of gaunt figures in chain-mail armor, shaded and revealed alternatively by a bright white light before they suddenly strike with a gigantic sword out of a dense dank forest.

The background story on its 2002 creation is caprivating: Frédéric Malle and Dominique Ropion had collaborated at Roure Bertrand Dupont in the past where Ropion had created an unusual exotic woody accord that Malle remembered fondly. When Ropion received a new extraction of vetiver that highlighted the qualitative nuances of the material in an unprecedented way, Malle had the idea to combine it with the old unfinished woody base and thus after extensive twinkering, the finished modern classic emerged. Ropion is well known for his style of overornate, dense, baroque signature, as evidenced in Ysatis or Amarige by Givenchy but also the intriguing Une Fleur de Cassie also for Frédéric Malle and it seems fitting that he achieved the painful intensity of extreme accuracy by addition instead of substraction using "a new essence of Vetiver, stripped of its bitter edge, which he matches with five woody notes to play up the scent's various facets".

Compared with soapy or citrusy vetivers like Vétiver by Guerlain or sweet, licorice-like vetivers such as Vétiver Oriental by Lutens, Vétiver Extraordinaire seems like a challenge: It lacks the light smoky refinement of Chanel's Sycomore, the nutty flou of Vetiver Tonka by Hermès or the spicy sexiness of Tauer's Vetiver Dance, elements which all contribute to easier acceptance. It should therefore be approached only when searching for something bitterly wet yet with a peppery, fresh herbaceous and earthy scent that will draw out a little savagery misleadingly dressed in bohemian clothing. The rooty, cardboard opening emphasizes the more difficult aspects of the genre but the overall character makes it delightfully panseasonal. The lasting power is excellent and the sillage moderate. Perhaps the closest to it is Encre Noire by Lalique which utilizes the same concept minus the foresty mossy tones, so those who have no access to the former, might find a pleasing alternative in the latter suggestion.


Notes for Vetiver Extraordinaire:Bergamot, Bigarade Orange, Pink pepper, Nutmeg, Floralozone*, Haïtain vetyver, Sandalwood, cedarwood, Oak moss, Myrrh, Cashmeran, Musketone**, Tonalide**.

Available in 10ml, 50ml and 100ml spray bottles and as shower gel at Barneys, Les Senteurs, and directly from Frédéric Malle boutiques and their site.

For a comprehensive analysis of vetiver fragrances click Vetiver Series.

*Florazone is a synthetic ozone muguet note patented by IFF with a fresh aldehydic floral profile reminiscent of ocean breezes.
**Musketone and Tonalide are synthesized musk variants.



Photograph of Hugh Laurie by Justin Stephens(Corbis). Bottle pic through F.Malle

Tuesday, September 30, 2008

Vetiver Series 5: the Straight, the Strange & the Sweet

There is just something about empyreal vetiver that makes it the perfect transitional olfactory module between an Indian summer of bright blouses and the more serious tweeds of truly autumnal weather. Vetiver's shades of green oscillate between the pale jade of cooler citrusy or milky-soapy variations of the note to the subterranean raw umber of earthy persuasions, through warm hazel with the golden flecks of sweet renditions. Sometimes this improvised colour schema is dictated by inherent personalities that emerge like leprechauns out of the flacon. Othertimes it has to do with my own sensibility when I am matching a fragrance to a current mood and letting it take me over the edge of perception.

The cooler end of the spectrum has the zestiness of hesperidic touches that end Cologne-like pick-me-up mode for days when the daze of summer holidays hasn't fully escaped my mind and the rush of the academic beginnings hasn't set in properly yet. The classic Vétiver by Guerlain is such an example, while I Profumi di Firenze Fresco di Vetiver with its bright yellow Sicilian lemons pushes the boundaries of freshness even more ~hard to picture it in cooler weather~ while still having vetiver sing its persistent basso continuo. On the other hand Vetiver by Floris although pleasantly grassy and citrusy lacks the distinction of more bracing compositions.

Some fragrances that bear the grassy root name on their fancy bottles bear little relation to the smell of either the dried roots or the potent essential oil rendered from them. You would expect from Le Labo, makers of Patcouli 24 that smells perversely of tarry leather, to compose a scent that bears no accuracy between label and juice: their Vetiver 46 is cool incense smoke with no root in sight! Patricia de Nicolai's Vetyver buttresses the root with jolting spice (black pepper, clove, coriander and cumin) and lemon tartness to assuage the earthiness in an scent that seems misleadingly labelled, interesting nonetheless. Creed's Original Vetiver opts for a lathery approach which comes and goes like whiffs of a foamy bubble-bath escaping through a closed bathroom door. Although the root is present, the alkaline smell of soap and the crispness of citrus that wafts nicely make this more office-appropriate than rolling on the forest floor after an improptu picnic a deux. When Lanvin decided to ressurect Vetyver L'Homme from oblivion (originally it launched in 1964) they engaged Francois Robert from Synarome who used 10 all-natural ingredients out of the alleged 14 to render an understated, slightly fruity variation that makes me wonder how the original might have smelled. As it is it's not corresponding to the expectations I formed reading the detailed descriptions of the Lanvin site. But if Lanvin's is meak and sterile, Annick Goutal's Vetiver is the other face of Ianus, the non-smiling one. Its iodine ambience with salty overtones puts it firmly into the territory of atypical and thus stimulating.

Direct vetiver fragrances emphasize the character of the root in a straight-arrow way, hitting bull's eye every singe time. The prototype Vétiver Extraordinaire by Frédéric Malle (composed by Dominique Ropion) contains possibly the highest levels of vetiver essences on the market today: it resembles verdant wet patches amidst cobblestones in a Medieval Italian town where students of medicine sharpened their pencils with knives. Route du Vétiver from Maître Parfumeur et Gantier bursts forth with the buoyancy of a surgical scalpel: it almost cauterizes the olfactory nerve with the raw sharpness of its Bourbon vetiver, upholded with a little blackcurrant, lots of patchouli and woody accents. The dark liquid that nests inside L'artisan Parfumeur Vetiver is pure; strong and earthy Bourbon vetiver joined by oakmoss and patchouli in an engaging conversation of earthy personae with the merest hint of hesperides. In the dimuniation of the citrus effect, Santa Maria Novella went one better with their own Vetiver: earthy, strong, especially for an Eau de Cologne concentration, with not a lemon rind in sight.

Smoke often compliments the green side of vetiver with an ineffable elegance. The classic Vetyver by Givenchy murmurs the way a well-bred gentleman of another era might. Sycomore by Chanel Les Exclusifs has a celestial beauty beneath its auspicious smoke rings. Etro Vetiver opens with a strong, earthy, true vetiver note that is dry and straight with a resemblance to the one by L'artisan minus the citrusy top and little clouds of smoke in the background. The very dark-coloured Vetiver from Lorenzo Villoresi bursts forth with less grace, unapologetically and emasculatedly strong, buoyed by bergamot while sandalwood and pepper lend an appealing backdrop that peters out in smoke.

Perhaps the most interesting addition to vetiver for me is spice with its hot-cold interplay which keeps me alert and bypasses the risks of being maudlin. Andy Tauer used both clean notes (such as a composite of lily of the valley aromatics and clary sage) and strong spices sashaying around his vetiver in Vetiver Dance, a composition that is destined to become beloved.

Sweet cadenzas with hints of gourmand delights flank some of the vetiver fragrances that can be shared by both sexes: From the slight sweetness of old-fashioned feminine Kus Kus by Bourbon French of New Orleans, which recalls the aldehydic powdery facet of Ma Griffe to the roasted French blend served with caramellised sticks of Black Vetyver Café by Jo Malone. Carlo Corinto Vetyver is darkish in hue, earthy and aromatic, but with the intrigue of licorice upon twisting the cap which makes it peculiar. Although it might seem like it has some of the sharpness of Route de Vetiver initially, it softens considerably thanks to sandalwood. My personal default gourmand vetiver is none other than the nutty, almost boozy Vetiver Tonka from the Hermessences composed by Jean Claude Ellena: its coumarinic sweetness well tempered by the grassy aroma, it's easy to wear in any weather, thus panseasonal and wafting a tasteful sillage as my arms brush against my clothes. And then there is the majestic anise and sweetly-buttery amber delicacy of Vetiver Oriental by Serge Lutens, an oriental at the edge of foresty that leaps into winter effortlessly.

Last but not least there are scents including a hefty dose of vetiver so magnificently evocative of places and situations that they defy a simple pigeon-holing; you're at a loss on how to begin to describe their arresting strangeness. Onda by Vero Profumo is such a fragrance that has the power to obliterate seasons and moods.


Pic of Alain Delon courtesy of Lilydebretagne/flickr. Pic of Asian forest courtesy of Trekearth.

Friday, September 5, 2008

Sycomore by Chanel: fragrance review


"Do you come from Heaven or rise from the abyss, Beauty?
Your gaze, divine and infernal,
Pours out confusedly benevolence and crime,
And one may for that, compare you to wine ...
From God or Satan, who cares? Angel or Siren,
Who cares, if you make— fay with the velvet eyes,

Rhythm, perfume, glimmer; my one and only queen!
The world less hideous, the minutes less leaden?"
~Hymn to Beauty, Charles Baudelaire

In 1930, Coco Chanel had a dream: she envisioned the perfect, most beautiful woody perfume that was baroque in feeling, yet bore no frills. The result, Sycomore, a 'woody scent with balsamic notes' composed by her Russian perfumer Ernest Beaux, was not appreciated in its time and soon disappeared. Just shy of 80 years in the making, Jacques Polge and Christopher Sheldrake, resident noses at Chanel, recomposed the woody vision of mademoiselle Coco and the finished fragrance forms part of Les Exclusifs ~Chanel's prestige line. The two however do not bear any similarity: The vintage Sycomore had "a distinct tobacco-violet note and all the other elements (few) built to enhance this idea" according to Octavian Coifan while in comparison the new version is very much centered around true vetiver; and a smokey one at that.
In many ways it is a departure from the other iris-ladden Les Exclusifs which affirm their Chanel pedigree by use of costly raw materials evoking segments of previous successes of the brand. Sycomore does not.

Sycomore instead emphasizes its aristocratic dryness of humble origin with a tangy grapefruit opening and subtly cooling, clean muguet notes that complement the Haitian vetiver variety, also used in Guerlain Vétiver, so well. Almost simultaneously it allows soft impressions of a warm incense cloud slowly setting upon evergreen needles and rooty dirt (a la Route de Vétiver by Maître Parfumeur et Gantier) to uplift you into a wistful and introspective contemplation of life and mortality. And if you lower your head and pay attention to its murmur, a resinous, only marginally sweet touch of the licorice note that naturally arises in several distillations of the material itself, slightly reminiscent of Dior's Eau Noire drydown, vibrates at a low frequency, along with woodfire smoke.

Officially marketed as feminine for women who do not like flowery compositions, yet cunningly poised between the two sexes, it has an hermaphrodite side that whispers of something mysteriously chic, chastetly beautiful and utterly unattainable; like Björn Andrésen, the youth Tadzio in Luchino Visconti's 1971 "Death in Venice" (the film adaptation of Thomas Mann's masterful novel).
His remarkable androgynous beauty prompted feminist Germaine Greer to use a photograph of Andrésen on the cover of her book "The Beautiful Boy" (2003). She would have approved of a scent strip of Sycomore tucked in there too.



The musical score is Gustav Mahler's "Adagietto" from his 5th Symphony.

Notes for Sycomore (2008) by Chanel: Vetiver, cypress, juniper, pink pepper, smoke, burning woods.

Sycomore is available at $190 for 200ml Eau de Toilette exclusively at Chanel boutiques. Considering it uncharacteristically lasts quite well, it is an investement.






Andrésen pic via moviemail-online.co.uk Bottle pic via Vogue.com.tw
Clip originally uploaded by AssimQuePuderes on Youtube.

Friday, August 29, 2008

Vetiver Dance by Tauer: Fragrance Review and Draw


“She is the embodiment of grace. She flows like water, she glows like fire and has the earthiness of a mortal goddess. She has flowers in her hair, jewelled hands and kohl-dark eyes. Her eyes speak a language that her hands will translate, her feet move in tandem to make the story complete. She is a danseuse, she is a performer, she is almost ethereal.”
~Photosindia-com

Vetiver Dance, the newest Andy Tauer fragrance dances around vetiver the way an Indian dancer dances like water, like fire. It is completely fabulous and if you're even in the least intrigued, there is strong motive for you to read through so as not to miss a spectacular surprise. I got a preview previously and after focusing on vetiver these past few days, it was a natural progression to come back and give a full review.

One of the traits which I appreciate most in niche Swiss perfumer Andy Tauer's oeuvre, apart from his excellent customer service of course, is that he doesn't resort to syncatabasis. His creations do not condensent to soothe the audience into the false sense of security of presenting them with artisanal pretentions yet producing eerily derivative works. Every one of his scents can stand alone, even though the common thread between them is unmistakeably his signature. Although I do not wear all his fragrances due to personal quirks and preferences, some of them have caught my attention and became friends immediately and forcibly: L'air du desert marocain was my first apodrasis into the desert, Rêverie au Jardin promenaded me into a soothing afternoon vignette through a Provencial field, while the duo of Incense took me from the austere bedrock of a hermite of Incense Extrême to the bright lux in tenebris filtered through the colourful vitraux of a spacious church on a festive morning of Incense Rosé.

According to the Tauer press release:
"Vetiver oil is one of the most fascinating natural fragrances to work with.Exploring the dark, raw and almost damp earthiness of vetiver oil you may discover hidden gems. Delicate lines of green leaves, clear spices, and soft flower petals. Trying to expose these treasures, I was working for more than a year on the fragrance that was later baptized “Vetiver dance” thanks to a creative online community. It is a fragrance where the dense and rich notes of vetiver oil balance the lightness of citrus, where wet dark earth nourishes white flowers, and where green spices extend vibrant woody chords".

An enumeratio of the creation was slowly unfolding on Tauer's blog, for months on end, leading us through the steps. In it all, there comes the contraption that needs to be patented: Vetiverometer ~a term coined by Andy Tauer, a "machine" measuring the “vetiverness”, the proximity to the real thing and reading the results, on an open logarithmic vetiver scale, so you get an idea where your scent is. Of course this didn't aim at a quality reading but instead the proximity to the material itself which varies a lot according to the soil vetiver has rooted on and drank upon, as we explained before.
Tauer finally managed to come to his desired effect: vetiver is clearly visible within Vetiver Dance, yet the pepper, clary sage and the cleaner aspect of lily of the valley garland it into a playful hide-and-seek.

Vetiver and grapefruit notes were allies for a long time, as even the natural oil depending on the source might have this kind of nuance to it. Natural grapefruit essence as well as tangy lemongrass oppose and enhance the rooty aroma in Vetiver Dance. The vetiver derivative Vetiverol extends the earthy Javanese note, upping the vetiver ambience to high volume, dry and tonic. Vetiver Dance is not as single-minded rooty as Vétiver Extraordinaire by F.Malle with its unexpected wet touch, but it is far removed from the starchy cotton-shirts of the bankers of classic Guerlain Vétiver. Its fierce peppery note, very distinct and a source of great hedonism to this spice lover, is supported by natural coriander, clary sage leaves' essence and a slight touch of cardamom oil. To me, the protagonist in the initial stages is the pepper along with the vetiver-grapefruit accord, fiery, dry; cold and hot at the same time.
Although Tauer lists lily of the valley (a recreated note which has been here centered around the soapy Lilial) as well as Bulgarian rose, the fragrance isn't floral or "clean" in the way of several more conservative vetivers in the market, like the two by Creed.
But the surprise comes when the fragrance dries down, revealing a delicious ambrein background which hovers on like a skin-scent, warm, pulsating and sexily tantalising, making this a vetiver fit to be worn on intimate rendez-vous and shared between lovers.

Notes: vetiver oil from Java, grapefruit peel oil, black pepper seed, clary sage, Rose absolute from Bulgaria, lily of the valley, ambergris, cedar wood, Tonka bean and cistus extracts.

Vetiver Dance by Tauer will be available in 50ml/1.7oz of Eau de Toilette starting October. His fragrances are available online from First in Fragrance, Luckyscent and Aedes. Click over to Tauer Perfumes to learn more details. Andy Tauer will be at Scentbar in Los Angeles on October 4 & 17 to introduce Vetiver Dance.
Andy also has a secret in the works which I am not allowed to divulge just yet, but rest assured it will make many fans smile. If only he releases Hyacinth and a Mechanic as well!

For Perfume Shrine readers Andy Tauer suggested a spectacular draw: THREE NEW FULL BOTTLES of the yet unreleased Vetiver Dance. I will randomly pick the winners through random.org and direct them over to Andy who will send them their prizes!
But as a consolation prize, he also sent me a few samples for some more winners*, so state your interest and if you're lucky you will get a chance to get a preview for yourself!

*NB: In the interests of full disclosure, I decided to keep a couple of samples for myself and my S.O., to enjoy this wonderful vetiver till the time comes when I buy my own bottle in October.

Pic of actors rolling in Aristophanes' performance from Epidaurus, via athinorama.gr. Bottle pic via Tauer press release.

Wednesday, August 27, 2008

Vetiver Series 4: the Secret of Gender in Vetiver

Have you ever watched a conjurer put a volunteer from the audience into one of those contraptions that open and close via those ornamented Chinese doors? He enters as a man, next thing you see is the magician's attractive female assistant emerge from the same little door all decked out in sequins and feathers. What happened to the man? Who knows. He doesn't disappear, unless we're into a Woody Allen film, but the change is dramatic and surprising. The same thing that sometimes happens upon setting eyes on a beautiful woman who has a little too wide shoulders, a little too large hands and you catch yourself trying to discern if she's hiding an Adam's apple under that dainty diamanté necklace and the shimmer of a thousand crushed pearls in her Nars eyeshadow.

Olfactory perceptions can be like that. First you think you have a good, solid, traditional feminine or masculine "note". Then the artist takes the material and spins it on its axon rendering it the bearer of news in the drama that unfolds in the stage of your olfactory adventure.
Vetiver is just one of those materials. Although traditionally thought of as masculine, as far back as in the 1910s-1920s, vetiver, without its masculine accoutrement, was starring in very feminine fragrances playing the liberated card of the garçonne, just hinting at a subversive undercurrent. Some of the unabashedly feminine fragrances featuring vetiver do so with the gusto of a painter who puts a touch of black on the milkiest white to create the enigmatic imperceptibly greyish pallor of a romantic heroine.

Besides, vetiver along with orris contributed to the famous powdery base Vetyrisia, featured in many classic products that evoke seemingly long-forgotten times.

Ernest Beaux with Chanel No.5 (1921) put the defining touch in the aldehydic, abstract creations that defined the new femininity: foregoing the usual flower bouquets, he infused the composition with a woody note of vetiver that creates disturbing arpegios under the super feminine ylang-ylang and the catty musk of a fur coat. The result très célèbre remains a perfect evocation of sohpsticated feminity that changed the world of fragrance for ever: "a woman should not smell like a flower patch", Coco Chanel quipped.
Jeanne Lanvin went one better in this particular field by having André Fraysse make vetiver an even more pronounced note in Arpège, a dark green glove that engulfs the flowers in forest tranquility. Crepe de Chine by Millot and Djedi by Guerlain were other fragrances featuring its chic aura.
Perfumer Maurice Blanchet worked with Charles Frederick Worth's son, Jean Charles, to create Parfums Worth in an era when couturiers came up with fragrances inspired by the paradigms of Chanel and Jean Patou. In 1932 he introduced Je Reviens to the world ~a fragrance masterminded around narcissus and anchored by the serene touch of vetiver. Completely changed now to the point of non recognition, Je Reviens serves as a landmark of Art-Deco style and the romantic inclinations of the times.
Indiscret by Lucien Lelong was created in 1935 (revamped and completely changed in 1997 by Mane) in a Surrealist-inspired bottle reminiscent of half-drawn curtains. Reportedly one of the staples of Marlen Dietrich, it evoked the ambience of a cabaret with its daring use of decadent flowers of corruption and woody notes in which vetiver played a significant part.
Its polar opposite could be Blue Grass by Elizabeth Arden came in 1936 by perfumer George Fuchs, from old Grasseois house of Fragonard. Unapologetically sporty and carefree, not cosmopolitan in the least, it was named for the Kentucky "blue grass" in honour of Arden's horses. "You'll never sell it with that name, it will remind people of manure" one of Arden's managers complained, but history proved him wrong as it became one of Arden's bestsellers.
In the 30s unisex was quite popular in a light hesperidic and vetiver-woody composition bearing the name Aqua di Parma. Their classic Colonia was reportedly favoured by both men and women, some of them famous like Ava Gardner and Cary Grant, as a valued pick-me-up.



The classic emancipated chypres around and after WWII found their predictable ally in the aloof stance of vetiver. The dangerous Bandit (1944) for Piguet, created by Germaine Cellier for dykes, managed to combine the tweed feel of vetiver with bitter green quinolines evoking leather in what was an outlaw's uniform. Ma Griffe used to be assertively powdery and frosty with the spicy touch of styrax and vetiver that providing the cooling background of a confident and world-savvy woman singing an emerald song atop a Parisian terrace. And of course the ultra-green, ultra classy dry Y by Yves Saint Laurent (1964) which should be sampled if only to see what a true classy chypre smells like.

But its most surprising use came into the aldehydics of the 60s and 70s. The Yves Saint Laurent iconic creation, Rive Gauche (1971), utilised vetiver to provide the cool background on which frosty, sparkling flowers rest silently, as did Calandre by Paco Rabanne, two years its senior and arguably the prototype of a metallic rose smothered in frost. The impeccable taste of Calèche was furthered through not only aldehydes, but also the quietly woody tonality of vetiver, which is the dominand impression of its base notes.
Clinique's Aromatics Elixir (1969), by nose Bernand Chant, took that gigantic rose and buried it under a whole forest floor of patchouli and vetiver to render it the most memorable sillage one can encounter on a stranger. It's interesting to note that Chant worked on both Cabochard with the drydown of which there is kinship as well as the classic masculine Aramis by Lauder.

Chanel No.19 is perhaps the best example of vetiver shinning through a starched cotton shirt that is meant to clad a woman of pedigree. Unassuming, prim, beautiful in its orris richness, it looks upon you with the severe eye of a lady to the manor born who never dons pearls but opts for cool silver bangles.
The echoes can be heard both in Chanel's other cool composition, Cristalle (Eau de toilette 1974 by Henri Robert; Eau de parfum 1992 by Jacques Polge), as well as the enigmatic green fruity chypre of Diorella by Edmond Roudnitska.
White Linen (1978) by Estee Lauder and Ivoire (1979) by Balmain both play upon the clean, soapy facets of feminine traditionality with a distinct touch of serene vetiver that is treated in a cool and soothing, powdery way.

The 80s saw a return to chypres, this time more professional and cerebral, less animalic than before, fit for the office heroines of a brave shoulder-pad era. A plethora of them use vetiver: the emphatically powdery with a pittosporum heart Knowing (1988) by Lauder and the exhuberant and projective rose of Diva by Ungaro. Interspersed there came the naughty, assertive dissenters who had other plans after the boardroom meetings and always kept a pair of spare lingerie in their crocodile clutches: Paloma Picasso and Parfum de Peau by Montana.

Even in the loud florals of the 80s, such as Giorgio Beverly Hills (1981), vetiver is the one saving grace that might have kept the strident, overachievers from becoming the gripe of death. A case in point was evident in the older version of Beautiful (1986) by Estee Lauder that kept the extravagance of intense white florals under check by copious amounts of the earthy grass root. Possibly it was a knowing nod to the successful turn that Sophia Grojsman had interjected in the brand's White Linen almost a decade before and in the fruity "grapefruit impression" of Calyx for Prescriptives in 1986.
The trick of containing white florals with vetiver was repeated two years later in Carolina Herrera's eponymous fragrance for women: a scent full of the indolic smell of jasmine and tuberose that would risk being caricatures of womanhood had it not been the discreet underscore of vetiver.
The experienced Jean Kérleo was aware of this true marriage by utilizing it in both his shadowy chyprish floral 1000 (1972) and the sunny, hearty smile of Sublime (1992), both for Jean Patou.
Could it then be that ommiting vetiver is the fault of loud white floral fragrances that bombard our nostrils with all the force of a WWII London air-raid? We can but assume.


As years and trends progressed vetiver along with patchouli became de rigeur: restrictions on the amount of oakmoss used in fragrances necessitated a turn into its earthy and re-assuring timbre.
Some surprising examples show just how magical its effect can be in the most unexpected ways. Le Baiser du Dragon by Cartier is full of vetiver in the base beneath the amaretto notes of its heart. Agent Provocateur uses it to render that troubling, earthy chyprish nuance to rose and saffron. Even Lush, a brand famous for their "homemade" looking skincare came up with a solid perfume inspired by the soothing attributes of vetiver, combined with the ultra-feminine jasmine for good measure: Silky Underwear, first released as a powder.

And then again the opening of the "niche" sector saw the tremendous potential for fragrances aimed at both sexes which made use of the note in unique ways, away from the establishment classic, rendering it very popular with women of unconventional tastes: from the fresh, young and chic hermaphrodite of Chanel Sycomore and the nutty, bittersweet delicacy of Vetiver Tonka in the Hermessences to the licorice-laced Vétiver Oriental by Lutens and the sexy darkness of an unusual brunette beauty of Vetiver Bourbon by Miller Harris.

But we will return with seperate reviews later on.
To be continued!


Autoportrait by Tamara de Lempicka (1925) via art.com. Bandit ad originally uploaded at MUA. Knowing ad via Parfum de Pub. Pic of Elena Bonham Carter smoking from "Fight Club"

Tuesday, August 19, 2008

Vetiver and Vetiver pour Elle by Guerlain: fragrance review

I guess I have to thank Elle McPherson: Australian 6-feet "the Body" supermodel of the 80s, whose signature fragrance has loyally been the masculine Vétiver by Guerlain. It makes sense: anything more traditionally feminine on that gorgeous specimen of Amazonesque womanhood and she'd burst!
Prompted by this unrealistic image, beknownst to me via religious leafing through British Vogue and French Elle editions, my teenager feet brought me before a Guerlain counter where I was spoilt for choice ~and in retrospect treated like a mature woman instead of a girl: Shalimar ("soft powder" the matronly but kindly sales assistant purred), L'Heure Bleue ("wistful flowers" she daydreamed), Mitsouko (I didn't need any coaxing on that one; I knew it well from my mother's dresser) and...off my hand went and grabbed the Vétiver tester. "That's for men, honey!" she gently admonished. And yet, why shouldn't I make it my own, like Elle had? The day was hot, school was out and I was determined to treat myself. Thus Vétiver and I became friends. For life.

Historically Vétiver was first created for the Mexico market, one of the biggest consumers of Guerlain's "Vetiver extrait". However Carven's strikingly fresh Vetiver (1957), already a huge success and the inspiration of the green packaging behind subsequent vetiver scents, prompted director Jean-Pierre Guerlain to modernize their own formula for larger distribution; especially since the house hadn't produced a true masculine since the days of their Eaux de Cologne, Jicky and Mouchoir de Monsieur. The commission was undertaken by his then 22-year-old nephew Jean-Paul. He focused on "the smell of the gardener" as a source of inspiration: outdoorsmen, their presence evoking the warmth of the earth with the freshness and vitality of nature, marrying tobacco to vetiver root.
If Givenchy's Vétyver is one of serene and self-assured patrician crepuscular composure, Guerlain's Vétiver is a bright day's morning optimism when anything seems achievable. Its vibrant, upbeat character with a citrusy edge helped made it a huge success, while Givenchy's languished, thus earning Guerlain yet another slot in the Pantheon of Greats.

Vétiver by Guerlain starts with a crisp citrusy accord that sustains itself for about 15 minutes, like ice crushed between jaws feels tingling the back of one's neck in the heat of August; or an hesperidic cologne with soft musks, fresh out from the fridge, sprayed on hot skin, creating goosepumps. Haitian vetiver is very complimentary to the lemony notes, rendering them ever so slightly soapy.
Technically classified in the Woods family by Michael Edwards, it soon proves why. The cascade of spicy, slightly bitter notes dominating is delightfully refreshing and addictive. As it puffs on a Romeo y Julietta, a bittersweet tobacco note emerges,rounding out the edges and providing the assurance of one's beloved dad in the days when he was a dynamic and suave young man, taking you in his arms for a goodnight kiss. Or another of its famous fans: Andy Garcia in his heyday, Cuban tobacco trailing off.
Vétiver is a comparatively light scent, compared to mustier, earthier renditions of the material, which however lasts well.

Despite Guerlain's claim to keeping the composition of Vétiver unaltered, my vintage from the 80s, in its squat square bottle similar to Habit Rouge, but with a deep forest green label (the label became more bottle-green in the 90s), points to a smokier and sweeter ambience with a rounder feel to it. It's thus more comforting and more insinuating, like what one imagines Lady Chatterley's Lover to be smelling of after working on a warm day, although the current version is also excellent, if rather drier and crisper.
Vetiver relaunched in 2000 with a new packaging and half clear/half frosted glass bottle (designed by Robert Granai) and more acid green juice rather than straw-coloured, which might indicate a slight tampering with the formula.
In 2000 a special edition was incorporated in Les Parisiennes lineup in a 500ml bee bottle for Boutique Guerlain, 68 Champs Elysées, Paris.

Notes for Vétiver Guerlain: orange, bergamot, lemon, neroli, pepper, nutmeg, coriander, capsicum, vetiver, cedar, tobacco, tonka bean.

Modern masculine spins (flankers) on the classic masterpiece proved somewhat lacking: Vétiver Eau Glacée ("Frozen Vetiver") has minty and nutty tonalities, but it lacks the richness of the original. Vétiver Extrême starts with a lathery sportly cleanless, adding a tarragon accent veering into the too herbaceous, while the development is quite oily and sweet due to a licorice background (a trait of many vetiver extracts) or according to Luca Turin "cheap English Leather drydown that would be ideal in furniture polish". (ouch!)

Vétiver Pour Elle by Jean Paul Guerlain, on the other hand, a feminine twist on the classic formula, was issued initially as a limited travel exclusive for people taking flight off Paris airports or railway stations, as a memento of their stay in the City of Light. It was encased in a bottle reminiscent of Mitsouko and L'Heure Bleue (with the cap an upside down heart).
The story behind Vétiver pour Elle is that women had been usurping the masculine fragrance from their men and were always nagging Jean Paul to create something comparable for them, so he finally did! Whether that is the truth or whether Guerlain saw the untapped pool of exclusivity afficionados who have become more vocal and more visible due to the Internet is food for thought. In any case the fragrance is lovely and perhaps this proves their marketing radar is razor sharp: the furore around it resulted in its joining Les Parisiennes at the Guerlain Boutique, in the particular bee bottles of the line, as a permanent fixture.

Drawing upon the quiet tenderness of his superb Chant d'Arômes, Jean Paul Guerlain added a soft garland of fresh, green jasmine along with subtler, clean notes of lily of the valley and orange blossom and musks, to circumvent the tobacco backdrop of Vétiver for an added feminine touch, while the skeleton of bergamot, nutmeg and vetiver roots is kept intact in its classical, almost chyprish beauty. The result seems unisex like the enigmatic smile of a Mona Lisa: is it a woman model than we're seeing or the artist merely masqueraded by feminine wiles?

Notes for Vétiver pour Elle: bergamot, lily of the valley, honeysuckle, jasmine, nutmeg, orange blossom, vetiver, tonka bean

Vétiver pour Elle is currently available in the 125ml bee bottle of Les Parisiennes line and can be bought at the 68 Champs Elysées boutique Guerlain, Paris. Use this conctact for inquiries.



Pic of masculine Vetiver (pour lui) ad with the vintage bottle depicted and of the travel edition bottle of Vetiver pour Elle, courtesy of Parfum de Pub.
Pic of Elle McPherson via Cinema-stars.com. Pic of Andy Garcia from the film "The Untouchables", via Geocities.

Monday, August 18, 2008

Vetiver Series: 3.the Historical References ~Carven, Givenchy, Guerlain

Vetiver seriously entered the consciousness of the West at some point in the 19th century, along with its brotherly Indian counterpart patchouli (brought to England in 1850), as exotic plants that smell good and keep precious silk cloths free of insects (nevertheless, vetiver iteself is not immune to the occasional beetle and to termites, in arid regions). Their noli me tangere soft message to moths and other pests made them valuable and prized and their exotic ancenstry the topic of romantic daydreaming about the edges of the Empire on Which the Sun Never Sets.
More importantly, vetiver was purposefully collected and transplanted as a potential agricultural commodity. Like so many other species, vetiver probably formed part of the colonial economic plant exchanges and, somewhere, the records probably still exist. Though these plant exchanges began in earnest around 1500, and continued an ancient tradition, two "hard" dates stand out: 1809 and 1843. In 1809, the first chemical analysis of vetiver oil was done in France on extracts from roots imported from the Indian Ocean island of Réunion, where vetiver is not native. Second, since 1843 a vetiver perfume called Kus Kus has been produced continuously in New Orleans, Louisiana, which in 1803 was purchased from the perfume-loving French by the recently independent United States, where perfumery was then considered elitist and undemocratic. Vetiver occurs in all the old French colonies, and it most likely arrived in Louisiana when it too was French ... vetiver is still most-popular there among people of French descent. The important point is that by 1843, at the very latest, vetiver was in Louisiana at the extreme terminus of global trade routes, up a river as far from home as on earth vetiver could be.
Unlike sugarcane and citrus and other Asiatic plants, Spanish scholars of the Islamic Moors have found no evidence of vetiver arriving in Europe from the Moghul Empire or earlier via greater Arabia and North Africa (and thence to the New World following the Conquistadors and their multitude of plant introductions). In fact, the one place on earth in which vetiver seems historically scarce to non-existent is the fragrance-loving Middle East and North Africa. By one hundred years ago, vetiver seems to have been fairly uniformly distributed, although perhaps thinly, across the tropics, occurring in most if not all countries. It is possible that the ‘Sunshine’ genotype was then reselected in the World War II period as a "strategic material" for perfumes, which is why we now find it almost everywhere[1]

However the story of vetiver-focused fragrances coincides with the modernisation of fragrance wearing and the artificial segregation of feminine and masculine fragrances after WWI. With its fresh, earthy and sometimes woody aroma, vetiver soon became a signal of masculinity. Although the 20s and 30s were les années folles when any bender of societal mores was seen as adventurous, daring and to be tentatively embraced if one could (enter the androgynes), the more conservative times that followed WWII and the advent of the New Look prescribed clear-cut roles: women impecably turned out, talons painted and not a hair out of place, but with a roast ready in the oven and smiling, well-behaved kids in the nursery; men suave in their conservative suits and modest ties, men about business with attache at hand, clean-shaven and well-trimmed on the nape of their fedora-adorned head, a Technicolor vision in 3D.
Those were the 50s!
It might very well be that those women were secretly lamenting their crushed dreams and the hole of fulfilment in their personal lives like a vignette from Pleasantville or a Douglas Sherk melodrama; those men might just be travelling salesmen or con-men, even Cold War agents, clad in their anonymous dark suits, in the pursuit of atomic-bomb data gathering. Never mind; their perceived image will be forever be impecably put-together, down to the last detail, combed and buffed and shining like a new Cadillac in pastel colours smirking at you from across the street.

It was at that precise moment in time when classic vetiver fragrances encapsulated all the desirable qualities of this solid, dependable manhood, minus any really sinister touch but not without their own shade of doubt like one encounters upon viewing something that is suspect of being too good to be true. In a way vetiver-focusing fragrances were a natural progression from classic Eaux de Cologne in that they smelled good, made you feel fresh and were a seal of respectability in most millieux, but not without their own little twist deep down.
Vétiver by Creed was a pre-cursor, coming out in 1948. The three most classical and stellar however had always been the ones under the names of Carven, Givenchy and Guerlain.

One of the first soliradix vetivers was Vetiver by Carven, issued in 1957. Its fresh character bode well with a generation that was optimistic after the vagaries of war, especially in view of the scandalous technological advances and eager to present a fresh outlook on life.
I didn't have the good fortune to smell the original, as it was so far back before my time and although I had a grandmother who wore Carven's Ma Griffe faithfully, my grandfather was loyal to fine fragrances by other houses (notably Givenchy's Gentleman in later years). Therefore it would be difficult to imagine the depth and clarity of the vintage composition going by only the rather pale and limp-wristed version that is circulating now -although pleasantly fresh, it doesn't ring a bell as one of the three greatest classic Vetivers.

Notes for Carven Vetiver:
lemon, lavender, jasmine, vetiver.

Hubert de Givenchy issued his own take on the refreshing earthiness of vetiver two years later, in 1959. A masculine so chic and so straight-foward to the nature of the material itself that it became his own personal favourite and a beacon in the world of perfumery. Luca Turin in his NZZ Folio column ("Grass Roots") had stated a propos:
"Experts agree that the best classical vetiver of all time was Givenchy’s, which never sold well but was kept in production because Hubert de Givenchy wore it. When he passed away, so did the fragrance. Next best was a tie between the strikingly fresh and carefree Carven and the excellent, darker and richer Guerlain. Then came the Lanvin, a bit more cologne-like, and all sorts of no-holds-barred vetivers from niche firms".
He swiftly corrected the mistake in his Perfumes, the Guide, though, while talking about the re-issued fragrance: Hubert de Givenchy hasn't passed away just yet, thank heavens, but he retired from his house in 1995, sadly marking Vétyver's discontinuation. According to Hubert's nephew, although the fragrance was greatly respected among connoiseurs, it was a slow seller and was only kept in production for the sake of his uncle.
Luckily, after 12 years, the re-issue of Givenchy Vétyver in the line Les Parfums Mythiques (relaunched classics in new uniform packaging) is reputedly excellent as it always has been; cause for rejoice among the many perfumephiles who cherish the precious tradition as well as the seal of approval communicated by Turin!
The classic, an understated, well-blended, both classic and classy fragrance starts with citrusy, cooling vetiver quickly segueing to a dusty, smokey rooty aroma, due to its use of three different varieties of the roots. It remains soft, discreet, understatedly luxurious and patrician always, mirroring its patron Hubert de Givenchy ~a man who when interviewed by Harper's Bazzar upon his retirement had exorcised vulgar modern practices with this sad -and very truthful- eulogy:
"Sure, it is head-turning,but one could not step out of the house like that. It's a false image. Balenciaga always told me, 'Hubert, the most important thing when dressing your clients is to be honest.' He was a man with total integrity. We made dresses that women could wear. Today we make dresses to sell handbags, shoes, accessories. When you go down the Rue du Faubourg Saint-Honoré, you see only store windows filled with sacks and shoes. What does that mean? I'll tell you what it means: There is no fashion."
.
Notes for Givenchy Vétyver:
Top: bergamot and vetiver
Middle: coriander and vetiver
Base: sandalwood and vetiver.
Givenchy Vétyver retails at $65 for a 100ml/2.4oz bottle.
You can read a detailed review of the re-issue on Pere de Pierre.

And then, just when the 50s were slowly exhaling and with Jean Paul Guerlain freshly on the reins of the historical house, Guerlain came up with their own version, Vétiver, which was to become the classic of the classics. It sold so forcibly well, that women everywhere were usurping it from the husbands' and boyfriends' dressers to don it on their own soft curves. But more on that shortly on a seperate review!


Pic of Russell Crowe in film Rough Magic. Pic of Givenchy Vetyver bottle and box courtesy of Fragrantica.
[1]source: the Vetiver Network

Friday, August 15, 2008

Vetiver Series: 2.the Fascinating Material

Vetiver is one of those materials of perfumery that has a particularly interesting background, not least because of its exotic lineage from the Indian peninsula and the fact that the aromatic substance is derived from its rhizomes, making fragrances focused on it a sort of soliradix (in accordance to the term soliflore for fragrances focusing on one flower). Its stems are tall and the leaves are long, thin and rather rigid, while the flowers are brownish purple, but the aroma comes from the roots much like another fascinating material: iris!
Perhaps the most charming, intelligent and arresting characteristic of vetiver though is its ability to thus absorb the very essence of the soil it's been growing into, giving a vetiver adventurer a tour of exotic locales at the sniff of its deep, inviting breath.

Vetiver (Chrysopogon zizanioides) is technically a perennial grass of the Poaceae family native to India. The name vetiver/vettiveru comes from Tamil, in which vetti means cut and veru means root. In western and Northern India, it is more commonly known as khus, which resulted in the English names cuscus, cuss cuss, kuss-kuss grass, etc. In perfumery we often see the older French spelling vetyver used.

Often vetiver grass is referred to as an engineer's or architect's wet dream because of its ability grow up to 1.5 meters high and form clumps as wide, but unlike most grasses (which form horizontally spreading mat-like root systems), vetiver's roots grow downward up to 2-4 meters in depth making it an excellent tool in controling erosion; useful in both agriculture (rice paddies) and terrestrial management (stream banks), especially in tropical climates suffering from monsoons.

Vetiver is closely related to other fragrant grasses such as Lemon Grass (Cymbopogon citratus), citronella (Cymbopogon nardus, C. winterianus) and Palmarosa (Cymbopogon martinii), which is in some respect the reason why it is sometimes considered a leafy/green or woody note, despite it being an earthy/rooty substance.
The world's major producers include Haiti, India, Java, and Réunion. However each soil plays a subtle part in influencing the smell of the oil yielded, so it is an interesting exercise to get hold of different batches and comparing. Some varieties are earthy or smokey, such as the Indian or Javenese batches. These can have a slightly yeasty touch that might take some getting used to. Others are more traditionally woody, with none of the earthy smell we usually associate with vetiver (especially the Sri Lankan variety). And a couple are even considered "green", such as the Haitian Vetiver which has a cleaner, grassier (pine needles) to the edge of citrusy and lightly floral (rosy geranium); same with the oil from Réunion. Both of these are considered of superior quality to the Javanese. China, Brazil and Japan also produce vetiver aromatic products, but I haven't been able to sample those, nevertheless I am determined to do so in the future.
There is also a special variety produced in the north of India which is termed khus/ruh khus or khas and is distilled from wild-growing vetiver. It is untypically blueish green in shade due to its being distilled in copper cauldrons, the traditional way. The oxidation lends a metallic aroma besides the colour, making it unique. Considered superior to the oil obtained from the cultivated variety, it is unfortunately seldom found outside of India, because most of it is consumed within the country.

The essential oil of vetiver produced is darkish brown and rather thick, viscuous. Smelling vetiver oil you are faced with a deep, earthy, herbaceous and balsamic odour which has smokey and sweet nuances with a dark chocolatey edge to it.
Vetiver can be used to render a woody, earthy tone to flowers providing depth, tenacity and "opening" of their bouquet but it can also be used to admirable results in chypres for its herbaceous/earthy vibe (especially now that oakmoss use has been lowered), in orientals for its interesting balsamic-chocolatey nuances and in incenses or citrus colognes to provide a counterpoint of woodiness.
It's so intense on its own that vetiver compositions are usually solo arrangements, rather than full symphonies, which explains why so often Vetiver fragrances are called with one part of their name just that. Like Luca Turin pointed out, comparing it to the treatment of cacao in culinary explorations:
"The perfumer has two options: retreat and declare victory, i.e. add a touch of lavender and call the result Vetiver (black chocolate); Or earn his keep and compose full-score for bass clarinet and orchestra (Milka with nuts and raisins)".

Vetiver oil or khus oil is a complex natural amalgam that contains over 100 identified components. Typical make up includes:
benzoic acid
furfurol
vetivene
vetivenyl vetivenate
terpinen-4-ol
5-epiprezizane
Khusimene
α-muurolene
Khusimone
Calacorene
β-humulene
α-longipinene
γ-selinene
δ-selinene
δ-cadinene
valencene
Calarene,-gurjunene
α-amorphene
Epizizanal
3-epizizanol
Khusimol
Iso-khusimol
Valerenol
β-vetivone
α-vetivone

For ease of reference though, the main constituents are: Benzoic acid, vetiverol, furfurol, a-vetivone, B-vetivone, vetivene, vetivenyl vetivenate.
[Source: E. Guenther, The Essential Oils Vol. 4 (New York: Van Nostrand Company INC, 1990), 178-181, cited in Salvatore Battaglia, The Complete Guide to Aromatherapy (Australia: The Perfect Potion, 1997), 205.]

The production of the vetiver oil goes like this:
The best quality oil is obtained from roots that are 18 to 24 months old. The rhizomes are dug up and cleaned, then dried. Before the distillation, the roots are chopped and soaked in water awaiting for the distillation, a procedure that takes 18 to 24 hours. Afterwards the distillate separates into the essential oil and hydrosol, the oil is skimmed off and allowed to age for a few months to allow some undesirable notes which form during the distillation to dissipate. The yield is high making vetiver an economic building block, which explains its popularity in fragrance making. Additionally, the fact that nothing smells like the real thing yet, assures us of its continued popularity versus aromachemical alternatives for the time being; no mean feat in our times. Like patchouli and sandalwood essential oils, vetiver greatly matures with aging, becoming less yeasty-musty and more pleasantly balsamic, becoming a fascinating note.

Vetiver's exciting history and representation in perfumery will be the subject of the third part in our Vetiver Series.

References:
Julie Lawless, The Encyclopedia of Essential Oils
Mandy Aftel Essence and Alchemy
Christopher McMahon from
White Lotus Aromatics, Ruh Khus (Wild Vetiver Oil)/Oil of Tranquility
Vetiver.org
Germplasm Resources



Pic of vetiver grass courtesy of vetiver.org

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