What is Parfum d’Hermès? A hybrid oriental chypre, the same family as Dioressence. This 1984 release, by Akiko Kamei, who never really had many perfumes credited to her, and Raymond Chaillan has more depth and more twists and turns than the notes might make you believe. Chamade comes to mind immediately after application. That rich hyacinthine powder with galbanum that translates as spicy and sweet at the same time is turned up to 11. It smells of proper perfume. What many describe as French. This ‘Frenchness’ is more apparent in the heart, where it follows a similar path as Calèche with strokes of rose, jasmine, ylang, iris…it is however far more intense, baroque and luxurious. As an 80’s release, it turns the volume up, adding also to the mix a clove-y spiced orange without falling into Xmas pomander territory. The longer drydown marries oakmoss with myrrh and resins, balsams and slivers of animal notes. Its cocooning as any oriental, with the stature and pose of a good chypre. It’s woody thanks to a fatty Mysore sandalwood. It’s richly hued, specks of leather and some herbs enriching the mossy base. It’s a forest floor where mushrooms grow. PdH is boudoir where Calèche is horse riding. It’s extravagant where Calèche is prim and proper. It’s very much unique, as this oriental chypre genre never evolved much beyond Dioressence, which was far more herbal. It has the glow of nitromusks of yore, though by the 80’s they were practically banned everywhere. That same feral growl of good ol Chanel N°5 cologne, where the animalic notes reign supreme. It’s got that same feel of smelling Miss Dior, Chamade, K de Krizia and, from modern creations, Mito and Dryad. It’s a powdery aldehyde, enveloping the green and purple to give us a new shade of green that is as plush as a shag carpet! I truly find it the best Hermès. I’m also happy that Hermès omitted mentioning it in the same sentence as Barénia in the marketing. The two could not be more different.