Aqua Allegoria Flora Nymphea by Thierry Wasser for Guerlain: Sudsy Fairy

A decade after being launched, the Aqua Allegoria collection – conceived as simple two-accord eaux to bridge the gap between the grown-up compositions of the house and its classic citrus colognes – has just taken a new turn. The bottle’s been tweaked, the ad campaign shows a face for the first time, and the name gives no indication of the main accords. Though in French, nymphea is the name of the water-lily there is, mercifully, not a molecule of the dreaded aquatic note in Thierry Wasser’s blend. Flora Nymphea’s name is meant to evoke the nymph in the ad (coincidentally, it was launched at the same time as Annick Goutal’s Ninfeo Mio); it also conjures Claude Monet’s famous water-lilies series painted at Giverny and thus, Jacques Guerlain’s taste for the Impressionists.

The scent itself also veers off the path of fresh, playful eaux: Flora Nymphea is much fuller-bodied than its predecessors, and definitely a white Guerlain in the manner of Idylle, Les Secrets de Sophie or Cruel Gardénia. If it does obliquely bring water to mind, it is that its creamy, inedible texture somehow conjures soap of the chicest, most expensive kind – an effect often produced by orange blossom. The main accord here is seringa (Philadelphus coronarius), known as mock-orange in English and as “poet’s jasmine” in France, where the intensely fragrant bush is a common sight in suburban hedges. The scent of mock-orange, as re-created by Thierry Wasser (you can’t extract its essence) does take after both orange blossom and jasmine sambac. It seems pretty close to my memory of the real thing, though it’s much too early in the season to compare.

Flora Nymphea’s mock-orange/orange blossom/jasmine bouquet is embellished on top with a tiny green-pepper effect from petitgrain and the merest touch of an intensely sour, almost metallic lemon in the top notes which briefly conjures magnolia. Honey starts seeping up several hours into the development – Guerlain bees homing in on the hive – and adds a linden blossom effect to Flora Nymphea’s white floral bouquet. While the honey warms the blend and tilts it towards a touch of woodiness, the scent stays well away from animal notes: this is white floral sent to scrub up its indoles. This nymph isn’t frolicking with satyrs any time soon.

In accordance to the Aqua Allegoria’s keep-it-simple concept, Flora Nymphea isn’t going to send you nose-to-wrist for hours trying to plumb its psychological depths. But despite Octavian’s comment on 1000 fragrances on its lack of tenacity and Robin’s from NST on its fresh, dewy character, I find it’s still welded to my skin twelve hours after spraying: at this stage it’s showing signs of settling down for the night. I may just be waking up tomorrow with a cute white-wigged fairy next to me hogging the duvet. At that stage I may have to get rough.

To watch the Flora Nymphea animated film conceived by Oscar B Studio with a voice-over by French singer-songwriter Olivia Ruiz, click here.

Flora Nymphéa de Thierry Wasser pour Guerlain: Grande fée toute simple

Dix ans après son lancement, la collection des Aqua Allegoria de Guerlain – des eaux de toilettes toutes simples fondées sur deux accords, conçues pour combler l’écart entre les grandes dames de la maison et ses colognes classiques – vient de prendre un virage. Le packaging est revu, la campagne affiche pour la première fois un visage et le nom n’évoque plus l’accord principal. Dieu merci, malgré ce que pouvait laisser redouter un parfum au nom de nénuphar, la composition de Thierry Wasser est dépourvue du moindre relent aquatique. La Flora Nymphea en question évoque plutôt la nymphe de la pub (coïncidence, elle sort en même temps que le Ninfeo Mio d’Annick Goutal, comme quoi il y a de la dryade dans les jardins cette année) ; elle rappelle aussi ces Impressionnistes qu’affectionnait Jacques Guerlain par sa référence aux tableaux de Monet.

Le parfum en lui-même se détourne également du concept des eaux fraîches et enjouées développées jusqu’ici : Flora Nymphea a beaucoup plus de corps que ses prédécesseurs, et se rattache nettement à la famille des nouveaux Guerlains « blancs » à la manière d’Idylle, Les Secrets de Sophie ou Cruel Gardénia. S’il évoque l’eau en biais, c’est par sa texture crémeuse et résolument non-comestible de savonnette de grand luxe – effet souvent produit par la fleur d’oranger. L’accord principal est cependant le seringa, ou jasmin du poète, que les Anglophones appellent le « faux oranger » : recréé par Thierry Wasser (on ne peut en extraire l’essence) il tient en effet à la fois du jasmin sambac et de la fleur d’oranger, et me semble assez proche de son modèle, bien qu’il soit trop tôt dans la saison pour le vérifier.

Le bouquet seringa/fleur d’oranger/jasmin est animé en notes de têtes d’un petit effet légèrement poivron vert de petitgrain et d’un trait citronné intensément amer, voire métallique, qui évoque brièvement le magnolia. Le miel commence à sourdre dans les notes de cœur – les abeilles de Guerlain rentrent à la ruche – pour ajouter un léger effet fleur de tilleul. Ce miel réchauffe le bouquet et le fait pencher vers un fond boisé, mais le parfum se tient résolument à l’écart des effluves animales : cette nymphe-là s’est fait renvoyer à la maison pour débarbouiller ses indoles, des fois qu’elle attirerait des satyres…

Fidèle au concept grandes-filles-toutes-simples des Aqua Allegoria, Flora Nymphea ne vous laissera pas nez plaqué au poignet pendant des heures à tenter d’élucider ses profondeurs psychologiques. Cependant, contrairement à Octavian, je ne trouve pas qu’elle manque de rémanence. Au contraire, douze heures après un pschitt, un seul, elle s’accroche toujours à ma peau : elle parle même de s’installer pour la nuit, à tel point que je crains de me réveiller demain matin couchée à côté d’une fée emperruquée de blanc qui m’aura volé ma couette. À ce stade, elle risque de se faire voler dans les plumes…

Pour voir le film d’animation Flora Nymphea réalisé par Oscar B Studio et mis en voix par Olivia Ruiz, on clique ici.

Tuberose Tsunami

My tuberose addiction sometimes has me wondering whether part of me isn’t still stuck in the tuberose-heavy 80s (though at the time I wore only Habanita). Either that, or I picked up the habit in childhood when my mom rubbed me with the quintessentially Canadian analgesic cream Antiphlogistin, which contains a whopping 18% of methyl salicylate, that minty-camphoraceous top note that comes off in tuberose absolute, the one showcased in Tubéreuse Criminelle…

Whatever the reason – and my money is on a bid to entice the American market, which has always historically adore the note – it seems that tuberose is the thing this spring. After Histoires de Parfums’ Trilogy, and Prada’s Infusion de Tubéreuse (which I haven’t yet smelled – I intend to do so shortly), Honoré des Prés is about to launch Vamp à NY in late April: a tuberose, rhum and balsam potion composed by Olivia Giacobetti. Honoré des Prés’ all-organic premise is neither here nor there for me, but I’ll throw myself on anything Giacobetti puts out, which hasn’t been that much recently. A sample is coming my way as we speak.

And then, of course, there is L’Artisan Parfumeur’s Nuit de Tubéreuse, a scent I’ve been wearing since last December (I was given a decant of the test batch) and was asked not to speak of until we got closer to launch time, now slated for May 15, which happens to be the feast of saint Denise though I swear I had nothing to do with that. Now that L’Artisan have outed the scent on their blog and presented it at the Exsence fair in Milan, I’ll be posting my review soon, along with a Grain de Musc exclusive.

So watch this space for tuberose heaven…

Tsunami Tubéreuse

Au vu de mon addiction à la tubéreuse, je me demande parfois si je ne suis pas toujours scotchée aux années 80 (bien que j’aie porté Habanita durant toute la décennie). Ou alors si le goût ne m’en est pas venu de l’enfance, quand ma mère me frottait d’Antiphlogistine, pommade analgésique typique canadienne qui recèle 18% de salicylate de méthyle, ce composant de la tubéreuse aux notes menthées-camphrées mises en valeur dans Tubéreuse Criminelle…

Quelle qu’en soit la raison – et je parierais assez sur une tentative de séduction du marché américain traditionnellement friand de cette note – on assiste ce printemps à un déferlement de tubéreuse. Après la trilogie d’Histoires de Parfums et l’Infusion de Tubéreuse de Prada (que je n’ai pas encore sentie, mais c’est pour bientôt), Honoré des Prés s’apprête à lancer Vamp à NY, le 28 avril au Bon Marché et chez Colette et le 17 mai ailleurs en France : une potion tubéreuse-rhum baumée signée Olivia Giacobetti. Le principe tout-bio d’Honoré des Prés ne me fait ni chaud ni froid, mais je suis prête à me jeter sur un nouveau Giacobetti, d’autant que cette dernière se fait rare. Un échantillon s’achemine vers moi en ce moment même.

Et puis, bien sûr, il y a cette Nuit de Tubéreuse de L’Artisan Parfumeur, que je porte depuis décembre dernier (j’ai reçu un décant du premier lot) et dont on m’avait fait jurer de ne pas souffler mot avant qu’on se rapproche de la date de lancement. Il est prévu pour le 15 mai, jour de la sainte Denise, bien que je n’y aie rien fait, juré. Maintenant que L’Artisan a vendu la mèche sur son blog, je pourrai bientôt vous faire part de mon avis sur la question, ainsi que d’une exclusivité Grain de Musc.

Le printemps promet d’être narcotique. On ne va pas se plaindre.

Jury duty for the "Specialists' Award" of the Fragrance Foundation France

Today I am sitting on a jury for the Fragrance Foundation France’s “Prix des Spécialistes”, which will be awarded to a 2009 fragrance available in less than 100 points of sale in France (in other words: for niche or exclusives lines).

Seven awards (best fragrance, best bottle, best campaign, etc…) are given out by the French public, who could vote via Osmoz and Marie-Claire on the FFF's website; there are also two “Prix des Parfumeurs” for the best feminine and masculine fragrances, as well as a “Prix Coup de Coeur” given out by the editors of Marie-Claire France, for a grand total of 11 awards, which should cover the playing field nicely.

My fellow jurors are five journalists, evaluators from eight composition houses and three other French bloggers: Juliette from Poivre Bleu, Sixtine from Ambre Gris and Méchant Loup from Olfactorum, the lone male amongst 16 women, since, for reasons unknown, my friend Octavian Coifan from 1000 fragrances was not invited though he is surely the best specialist amongst the French-based bloggers.

The 50 pre-selected fragrances are either from niche houses or exclusive lines. We were asked to each give out a short list of five nominees. Out of the 50, my choice was fairly easy to make:

Frédéric Malle Géranium pour Monsieur by Dominique Ropion because of its innovative take on the fougère family and fascinating, vortex-like, precision-engineered structure;

Annick Goutal Un Matin d’orage by Isabelle Doyen and Camille Goutal, again because it renovates the ozonic floral genre with astonishingly natural, dewy effects, and because it seems to me to represent a new, edgier phase in Isabelle’s work for Goutal;

L’Artisan Parfumeur Havana Vanille by Bertrand Duchaufour because of its impeccably intelligent structure, its new take on a clichéd note and because it is exemplary of its author’s new manner (Penhaligon’s Amaranthine, which I believe may be a better scent, was not in the pre-selection);

Cartier “Les Heures de Parfum” XII – L’Heure Mystérieuse and XIII – La Treizième Heure by Mathilde Laurent, because it seems to me that Mathilde is exploring a new grammar of perfume composition; the scents are different enough in their structure to warrant being both nominated and achieve very distinctive textural effects.

Out of my short list, I wear neither Géranium pour Monsieur (that minty coolness is definitely not me) nor Un Matin d’Orage (I am hyperosmic to one of the materials and can only appreciate it when I mentally correct that sensitivity); there are four scents in the pre-selected 50 that I own, wear, but didn’t pick. There are certainly scents I’ve left out because I haven’t experienced/analyzed them sufficiently. And there is one, Céline Ellena’s Oriental Lounge for The Different Company, which I would’ve dearly loved to include: I pondered at length about taking out one of the Cartiers, but I couldn’t decide which one (they are both remarkable), and felt I couldn’t possibly leave out Ropion, Doyen or Duchaufour, all three of whom I consider major authors.

At the time of writing, I don’t know if any of these will have made it on the final list of nominees, but reflecting on my selections, I can see common points: I picked fragrances that had an interesting, innovative structure, that were significant within the context of their authors’ corpus and for the house that released them, and that weren’t classically “pretty”. Perfumes that spoke of creative freedom rather than a bid to draw in customers, get in on the niche/exclusives market, or come off as expressions of what the perfumer/brand owner/artistic director knows how to do best: fine achievements, but not groundbreaking.

I am very curious to know how today’s discussions will unfold. I will probably not be at liberty to disclose their contents or result, but I will try to post an update to let you know the finalists, and when the winner of the award, which will be given out on April 8^th, will be officially announced. Watch this space.

Winners will be announced on April 9th. Until then, my lips are sealed.

Illustration: still from George Cukor's The Women (1939).