Acqua di Scandola
A master of epic, saturated scents in the manner of
Delacroix, Marc-Antoine Corticchiato delivered a delicate, quivering pastel
with Le Cri de la Lumière. Acqua di Scandola sees him turn to
watercolor, or rather, to an intensely personal, original take on marine notes.
This tribute to a secluded UNESCO-heritage site in his native Corsica smells
like the taste of sea-spray on your lips, with an underlying ochre animalic
thrum that feels like sun-heated skin. Limpid and masterful.
Naja, Vero Profumo
There’s always been something archaic about Vero Kern’s style – a hint of the witch’s brew, or of
ancient times when spices were macerated in wine and honey to make scent, in
Egypt or Imperial Rome... But if anything, though it is based on tobacco, Naja reminds me of Moroccan maâjoune, hashish candy made of honey,
dried fruit, almonds and spices. But the vision revealed well into the sticky
gingerbread drydown is a twisted skein of vetiver, radiant in its flint and
citrus glow against the earth and smoke.
Pourpre d’automne, Violet
Launched by the young-old Maison Violet (founded in
1827, revived by a trio of enterprising perfumery school graduates), Pourpre d’Automne has the bone structure
of a proper fruity chypre, cross-pollinated with Coty’s Rose Jacqueminot. Nathalie Lorson keeps it streamlined, breathable,
stopping it short enough of pretty to make it moving and wistful, rather than
lipstick-like. Can’t keep my nose off my arm, as one says.
Electric Purple, Lalique
Nathalie Lorson has a singular talent for composing
berry and musk fragrances – descendants of L’Artisan’s Mûre et Musc – that turn the cheerful genre into an elegant
statement. With Electric Purple, in
Lalique’s exclusive Les Compositions Parfumées collection, she matches a
mouthwatering Boysenberry accord with the deeper, bitter green of Artemisia against
a light chypre background. This is a delight, and never fails to make me smile.
Monstera, Xinu
Between Ella (Arquiste)
and L’Ame Perdue (Le Galion), Rodrigo
Flores Roux’s scents are in heavy rotation on my skin: I find his intensely
emotional, baroque style moves me, and always keeps me interested. With Monstera, for the new Mexican brand
Xinu, he grows a rainforest on my skin, from the humus-rich ground to the dayglow
sap-oozing leaves of the canopy. This is green, raspy and wild: an olfactory
fugue from Northern latitudes.
Fleurs et flammes, Antonio
Alessandria
How can I have left out Il Bel’Antonio’s Fleurs et
Flammes from these seasonal round-ups? I am remiss. I will atone. Because
lilies. Carnations. My two favorite, flamboyant floral notes. And galbanum –
there can never be enough. If you’ve ever missed Floris Malmaison, give it a try.
Carat, Cartier
Among the tumbrels of florals that have been tumbling
since last year – a trend that shows no sign of abating, Carat is that rare jewel: a bouquet not planted in a pot of sweet
vanilla and tonka. In interpreting the spectrum of light as diamonds diffract it, Mathilde
Laurent raises the specter of aldehydic florals. Not so much the smell as the effect;
the glimmer and glamour, in the original meaning of the Scots term –
enchantment, spell. A swirl of delicately detailed flowers (violet, iris,
hyacinth, tulip, honeysuckle, daffodil, ylang), Carat is very lovely fairy dance of gossamer-light, frost-edged
pastel petals.
Rose Rouge N°19058NH, Van Cleef & Arpels
What gal doesn’t love roses and chocolates? And, if you’re anything like
me, a good rose vetiver chypre. In Julien Rasquinet’s first fragrance for the
always impeccable Collection extraordinaire, he matches petal and bean – the
former an arrestingly natural fruity rose, the latter a slightly animalic cocoa
extract – for a mouthwatering, yet amazingly light-textured effect. Exquisite work by the young perfumer-poet who signed Naomi Goodsir's wistful Iris Cendré.
Club Design, The Zoo
A winner of the 2018 Art & Olfaction Awards in the
Artisan category – which I had the pleasure of handing to Christophe Laudamiel
in London – Club Design offers a
laser-sharp take on leather. Smoky saffron-dusted lily; burnt styrax; a
yielding almond facet adds a touch of stretch to the kinky catsuit. The Zoo’s
website recommends wearing this on clothes rather than skin, since it’s not
quite IFRA-compliant for leave-on fragrance. But we’re all adults here. Do with
Club Design as you damn well please –
I have.
Orage, Louis Vuitton
Crackling citrus followed by a flint and petrichor
accord… Orage could be a less
alien(ating) version of Annick Menardo’s mesmerizing Peau d’Ailleurs for Philippe Starck. Simple, but it works.
Dark Lord, By Kilian
During my ISIPCA Summer School session this summer, I
asked students to blind-smell three of Alberto Morillas’ fragrances and define
his style. “This must be a very happy person”, they all agreed, and anyone
who’s met the ever-smiling, genial Morillas would concur. So it’s kind of
hilarious to see him do a fragrance called Dark
Lord, in a Damien-Hirst-y, Goth box with a skull – it’s like casting Tom
Hanks as Alistair Crowley. That said, Dark
Lord brings his trademark fuzzy style to bear on everything that’s
(deliciously) unholy in the perfumer’s palette. A delicately smoky vetiver,
edging on the burnt, skewering booze-splashed leather, hides an unexpected puff
of jasmine… The Devil is a smooth operator.
Illustration: Burning Flowers by Matt Collishaw
For more seasonal round-ups, please visit Bois de Jasmin, Now Smell This and The Non-Blonde.
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