The trials and tribulations of how many LVEB flankers are truly worthy! The original, the 2015 hazelnut whipped cream Intense, last years Iris Absolu (and to a lesser extent, the gold L’Extrait also from last year) and this one, which takes some cues (again) from Guerlain. In my humble opinion. This one really has nothing in common with LVEB. It doesn’t belong there. Can it really be considered a flanker if there are 0 similarities? The raspberry is tart, sweet and juicy but at the same time it’s not childish and synthetic. The violet feels extremely well crafted; purple, anisic, sweet…just like violet candies! The classic ones you buy in little old shops in major European cities. The first few hours I’m smelling a combination of LPRN Intense, some Insolence and (could it be?) traces of the anise spiciness of L’Heure Bleue! All with the violet richness of Lush’s Daddy O’! But the violet is so intense that it kicks the LHB association away early on. I don’t get any sugar, the praline sweetness of the original or any notion of modern gourmands. Thank God! If anything, it’s more early 00’s than the artificial and coma inducing rotten sweetness that passes for perfume today. It smells cold rather than hot if that makes sense. There are faint echoes of Lancôme’s Miracle and Flower by Kenzo; a whisper of ozonic freshness far away from Cool Water. Faint echoes that simply pass and go. It’s not niche, but it’s a well made mainstream release. The fragrance unfolds lightly without a heavy feel even though it’s strong and extremely long lasting. It’s airy, it lets you breathe, and ends in a bed of soft and fluffy raspberry macarons with violet clotted cream. No patchouli, no vanilla, no ambroxan. Just soft woods and a tiny suede scent to anchor it with a background of The Body Shop’s long gone cocoa body butter; creamy and nutty, not overpowering. A very nice release indeed. But a new name would have been better. Also, the bottle looks and feels nice (better than pictures) and the purple tint of the juice is enticing. A not so guilty pleasure. Bottom line: must love violets! Edit: a week later and I’m finding myself drawn to it just like with Poison Girl 8 years ago. Something that shouldn’t work for me and something I shouldn’t like and yet I’m loving it. My 100ml bottle should last a few decades! Definitely worth checking out.

Distant Shalimar family member. While the Shalimar DNA is there, it is hidden under the tonka sweetness. I don’t really enjoy tonka, but the smart play with almond here gives it a mysterious and seductive aura akin to smelling vintage Hypnotic Poison after many hours on skin. I love the original Shalimar and I really like this flanker because it has the depth -albeit different- of the original. There have been better flankers but this one is done nicely and respectfully and for that I’m happy to own it. I see it as a sweeter Shalimar for those who aren’t really ready for the OG. But still, very nice and very warm.

Top notes: peach, prune, cumin, bay oil, honeysuckle, aldehydes. Middle notes: jasmine, jonquil, rose, tuberose, lilac, narcissus, carnation, lily of the valley. Base notes: oakmoss, sandalwood, amber, leather, civet. Taken from Cleopatra’s Boudoir, this is the most accurate and complete set of notes there is for Dior Dior. In a nutshell, this lost and forgotten Roudnitska complex perfume, misunderstood back then and even now, is an amalgam of previous Dior’s, rolled into one; you have the LOTV from Diorissimo, the melon/jasmine fresh funk of Diorella, the animalic leather of Miss Dior, the peachy milkiness of Diorama, all dazzled in 70’s disco funk. Prim and proper like any classy Dior but also more bohemian, more aloof and infinitely more modern, just like the times. I believe the reason it flopped was because customers weren’t accustomed to such modernity from a house like Christian Dior and the ones who wanted the ‘theme du jour’ in perfume would turn to other hippier brands. In a way, this ties perfectly with something like Vu. Dioressence, which got a small face lift in 1979, would revisit this funky new style with different ingredients to slightly better success. Double Dior is a lost gem that culminates Edmond’s genius! A masterpiece!

What is Ylang 49?! It’s definitely not a soliflore and it’s definitely not tropical. It’s meaty though. It’s got that quality of dark floral chypres that weigh on the drama. Peaty. Not leather, but a carnivore quality. Ylang 49, while not smelling like them, reminds me of the bitter ointment and medicine aspect that is hidden in Aromatics, and also that rich and heady, dimly lit ambiance of Knowing, where a very brooding rose and some very heavy white florals play hide and seek with a sinister civet and angry oakmoss. But Ylang also has a compelling banana peel aspect, as if to honor the name. It’s Ylang to the fullest via two of the best chypres ever made. I really think this is the best Le Labo there is!

Le Labo fragrances are known for naming a fragrance one way and having it smell like another. Lys 41; a richly custard creamed vanilla with heady tuberose that doesn’t smell like lily most days. On hot ones though, it brings forth a hazy dreamscape of alien lilies that smell richly saturated and narcotic. On very hot days, I can smell a Polaroid Anaïs Anaïs as if she’s carried in the arms of The Terminator towards salvation. Today is a very hot day. It all feels right again!

Cannibal patchouli, brimming with honey and bravado strutting its attitude for hours on end; hello there handsome! Lapidus pour Homme serves as one of the last macho powerhouses of the 80’s. Furyo followed a year later and closed the circle of the mighty sillage for men. But Lapidus bridges 3 worlds; the cocky arrogance of Antaeus, the suave brutality of the soon to come Ténéré and the animalic patchouli of Furyo. It lacks the locker room p*rn factor of Kouros, who I easily see as a young Falcon Studios blond hunk, instead showing off a more mature roughed sensuality. Lapidus is as brutal as they come but doesn’t need to flash it like my beloved bulging Kouros does. Review of 1987/1989 formula, various bottles with no barcode, no modern symbols. Lapidus pour Homme opens strongly. The patch is heavy from the onset but the star for now is a wonderful pineapple heavy lavender. You smell it if you know it’s there. Lapidus soon follows a familiar territory; the patch starts taking center stage, the honey shows its full on glorious pissiness and the floral notes in the heart create a smooth canvas for the rest of the notes to shine. There are animalic notes even if not listed; as the drydown approaches, they are easily discernible, most notably civet. The basil in the opening brings it close to Furyo’s bay leaf in that herbal spiciness. The smoothness of sandalwood and woody notes make it more grounded than others in the genre and eventually, despite its animalic character, it shows a smoothness that is very Italian in style. It’s a well bred and suit wearing animal. Some, like Furyo and Kouros emit debauchery and excess while others like Antaeus and Ténéré emit a more balanced naughtiness. Lapidus takes queue from the latter genre and eventually shows a certain arrogance that comes with age and knowledge. He is their daddy! Kouros and Furyo could easily be Savage Streets and The Warriors, as well as any actor in Falcon’s Out of Athens (😈). Antaeus, Cruising and Ténéré, American Gigolo (even though Richard would absolutely rock Antaeus too, this suave hustler!). Lapidus pour Homme is harder to fit a profile but today I’m going with Rocky in Rocky IV; more mature than 1976, more adorable with his puppy eyes, still a total hunk. I love and wear all 5, having a soft spot for Kouros and Furyo but needing all of them. Truly, one of the last greats. Sillage and longevity is atomic with just a couple + 1 sprays in the neck and chest. A total 10/10!

Languid. Tropical. Humidity and high heat. My skin makes it come real close to Songes, so I don’t get the Fracas/Jicky association unfortunately. But it’s a rough Songes. There’s a prominence of camphor in the first hour or so, something that Songes lacks. It doesn’t veer in the direction of the menthol queen Tubereuse Criminelle, but the feel here is camphor with something else. The gardenia is quite pronounced and smells very authentic and saturated, the kind which we haven’t smelt since Boutonnière from Arquiste. But here, it has a halo of freshness curtesy of the magnolia, so it’s a humid tropical smell. The mushroom aspect is subdued but present enough to provide authenticity. From the second hour onward, it becomes less humid and more dry, kinda like the 2 o’ clock sun at the beach. The gardenia transforms to a more spicy melange and a very nice sandalwood with just a hint of vanilla and body warmth emerges. Blending is superb, like most PdE creations you can’t grasp the full effect from the start; it comes with wear. But these first weeks of wearing it in extremely high heat, I’m getting the promised heady gardenia, accurate and authentic, saturated with magnolia and slightly funky base notes that show a 90/10 ratio of sandalwood vs vanilla. It can be familiar to some, easy to love by many but never an easy cash grab or functional mainstream turd; I think I’m on the start of my Bel Amour, the infatuation. Give us a couple weeks and we’ll make it a very naughty Bel Amour d’Été! Sillage and longevity on par with the house; generous but never crass! From 2024, my favorite release so far (not yet gotten my hands on Epona and Venice Rococo to complete the perfect 2024 threesome). Edit: blooms in autumn in a glorious way! Somehow it becomes extremely gardenia forward 😍

I wasn’t sure whether to get a second bottle of Infini after half using another one. My first one was a pressurized atomizer, early 70’s PdT that, while green and wonderful at first, became sour, stale and ugly after a few minutes. I’m guessing poor storage and expired propellant had the upper hand upon that gorgeous tobacco green haze that couldn’t survive more than a couple of minutes. Some weeks ago I came upon a pristine and boxed infinity bottle of the PdT as well, in the gray geometric box. 1974 batchcode and a bargain price. And here goes. This version of Infini is vastly different from my previous one, although both are roughly the same year. Infini, as many Caron’s, is known to be notoriously batch sensitive; the same concentration can vary significantly from one bottle to another. One greener, the other heavier on tobacco, ones with a prominence of narcissus while others offer a nondescript floral melange. My bottle goes from a Calèche/Madame Rochas prim aldehydic-ness to a greener, irisy N°19. My first Infini opened with a bitter herbal green; grassy, wheaty, smoky. Soon after, it died. This Infini opens with sparkling aldehydes. Soapy, a little bit astringent even. What follows is a tender floral medley that doesn’t show a prominence of narcissus. Hence the comparison to the above two same period classics. At this point, even though stronger than Calèche and Madame Rochas, I don’t find it particularly different or memorable. Had it been a narcissus heavy variant, I would’ve felt different. And honestly, it doesn’t start to impress me until the heart notes start showing. A smoky vetiver, rich foliage and spicy coriander take center stage, along a very Chanelesque iris, touch of galbanum and what I believe is a dollop of Mousse de Saxe. Among the golden tobacco tendrils, the abundance of green and the lick of civet, a leathery narcissus creeps timidly, but the floral star becomes the iris and the lilac. I can smell the cool beauty of vintage N°19 edp, but, with the leathery undertones of a 1940’s perfume. At this point it has nothing to do with futurism but more with the past. It lingers like this for hours, projecting vividly, before the base engulfs me in sandalwood with slight coumarinic sweetness. The greenness never really subsides but the leathery darkness slowly takes over before fading away almost a full day later. The 60’s and 70’s were all about space age, pixie do’s and mini skirts among spider lashes and plexi chairs. Shag carpets, orange and maroon furniture amidst avocado green bathrooms, all the while Paco gave us Mētal and Calandre, Yves gave us Rive Gauche and Robert Piguet was taking us into the Futur while Courrèges was Empreinte(ing) us its signature! Infini tries to tap into the future, but after the sparkle of the opening starts to fade, it really just goes to the past. The classic and solid bases of the house are still here, even if less noticeable. Is it possible it harks to the original 1912 Infini? I couldn’t say. Infini was marketed to the young and free woman of the time. Modern, vivid, full of life. But underneath it all, it can’t hide the good upbringing of the house, its masterpieces that came before, and offered another excellent perfume with quality and class. Subtle differences and a different approach to the green and floral aldehydic, make Infini one to try. It didn’t win me over easily, but it has become a favorite in no time. Stunning!

C14 aldehydes for the peach effect, bergamot, green notes, neroli, hyacinth. Iris, LOTV, jasmine, carnation, ylang ylang, tuberose. Musk, oakmoss, amber, sandalwood, vanilla, cedar wood, ambergris and civet. This is (vintage) Arrogance pour Femme. By Raymond Chaillan, one of the 4 noses behind Anaïs Anaïs, Arrogance is the grown up, 80’s animalic version. 100ml splash bottle from 1982. EDT. Anaïs came in the late 70’s, and it always felt like peachy teenager skin. Gossamer, hazy, but while innocent it always carried a heavy carnal load. Sometimes I think of it as a perverted nun. Hiding the dirty thoughts behind a veil. Arrogance becomes a fulfilled woman, no longer needing to hide. More indolic, more animalic, she lives her life without giving a fuck. While Anaïs feels like a study on Madonna Lily, Arrogance borrows the intense green/herbal opening of Scherrer, plays with the same floral notes found in Anaïs, but here the Lily (even if not mentioned) plays with the hyacinth for a brief moment as to convey a false innocence. Playful. The tuberose and jasmine change that when they start to show up. The heart feels decidedly creamy and tender at the same time. Think white lace underwear instead of raunchy black. Dim lights instead of neon signs. Emmanuelle instead of Tracy Lords. It feels decidedly erotic, just like a 70’s Italian film you’re watching scared of being caught. The civet and amber/ambergris add that lick of naughtiness that make it what it is; a filthy chypre, Italian caliber! On my skin, the similarity to Anaïs is inevitable. Like a flanker. Chaillan played with balance, shadow and light and gave us (willingly, persuaded or not) a forgotten but excellent fragrance. Arrogance doesn’t elicit the same reaction, awe or status symbol power like many others, but viewed on its own merits, this is just as stunning as most chypres from the era, especially those erotically charged Italian ones. If anyone has watched ‘The Killing of a Chinese Bookie’, I can picture Sherry smelling of Arrogance in the limo scene, having Dom Perignon as they head to gamble. Just like its (vintage) male counterpart, Arrogance is one of the finest duos made by Pikenz back in the glory days of perfumery. Excellent sillage and longevity on both, easily worn by anyone today!

Charlie! So misunderstood for so long and by so many! Many many moons ago, when Charlie came to be, it was frowned upon by many. Understandably. Especially in Europe. With an array of Fidji’s, Miss Dior’s, Madame Rochas, Ô de Lancôme, Rive Gauche’s, Diorella’s and Cristalle’s, there was no need for a ‘cheap’ drugstore perfume like Charlie. I came to know it by a small silver apple pendant with a creamy formula that my mother had and never used. It wasn’t her style but I immediately loved its bitterness. I came to find a while ago a cologne from the 70’s in its baby blue box. Pristine. A time capsule of all sorts. And Charlie has won me over again! Upon first sniff, I can see where Charlie took its inspiration; Estēe and Fidji, its European equivalent. While Fidji was always a bit softer, Estēe, like a good American fragrance, was louder. And Charlie too. But instead of the polished sofistication of the Lauder, Revlon gave us a more approachable version. A rougher around the edges perfume, that just like its ads, didn’t need anything else to feel complete. Charlie greets me with a hyacintine floral beauty, with soft echoes of tropical white flowers. Some jasmine, some tuberose/gardenia but without a heavy feel. Flowers drenched in sparkling aldehydes and soft citrus notes that elevate this fresh cologne to last and last. Just like the box states. But the green heart soon comes along. Charlie has spades of oakmoss and galbanum, what mostly shows on my skin, with a touch of spicy coriander. Vetiver and sandalwood, which I’m smelling as proper Mysore, add a deeper woody background but never shadowing the green verdancy. Charlie keeps its slight floral character throughout, but as a background voice. The theme here is green. Green meadows, a freshly mowed lawn, your back garden. Things that would appeal to the newly independent American woman who was starting to take the workplace by storm, was sufficiently self-sustained without a man and could juggle her career and personal life. Things were changing, and Charlie came to be an affordable high quality fragrance for the modern woman. It was fresh, it was new, but most importantly, it was within everyone’s reach and it lasted the entire day. I love it. I’ve always had a soft spot for it, and now that I can wear the cologne freely, I feel in heaven with every breath. Carefree and wild spirited while retaining a certain elegance that within today’s market, increases drastically, Charlie is as unisex as they come. Its marketing and launch captured a moment in time that marked a change, but today, Charlie shines on its own merits. Sillage and longevity outstanding! Mid 70’s, 235cc Eau de Cologne reviewed.