Azzaro by Loris Azzaro, the first release of the house and Loris’s signature, is (was) a gorgeously sensual floral chypre that defined the 70’s. It had the beauty that Loris’s fashion creations had, the tenderness of his eyes and the sensuality that his clothes gave a woman. The only drawback I would say it has, is its lightness. I used to own a large splash bottle and while gorgeous, it was fleeting if I didn’t douse myself. The extrait is somewhat richer but still doesn’t shout. Top: tuberose, gardenia, rose, narcissus Heart: jasmine, ylang-ylang, iris, peach, coriander Base: vetiver, sandalwood, grey amber, musk, civet (Courtesy of kl99 bellow) Main notes among many others, created by a relatively unknown Maurice Thibond or Jean Martel depending on the source. Pucci Zadig and Mila Schon (first fragrance, from 1981) which I own, are the closest in character and scent profile; both are bold chypres with carnality, a fruity wink of mischief, bold languid florals, and rich animalic notes. Arquiste Ella, which I also own, is also a very very well executed idea that inevitably took Azzaro as inspiration. Think late 70’s, disco music, flowing dresses, nighttime pool parties, Donna Summer, smoke filled discotheques, soapy aldehydics, what a Calandre wearer changes to at night and you get an idea of what Azzaro smells like. A stunner that is also somehow melancholic, reminding us of what used to be and is no more. Azzaro had emotion, it was alive! It’s hard to say that about any perfume, but here I felt it breathe! I absolutely love it, and I’m happy to see an old friend in the sillage of the above mentioned beauties. Either of them is a mirror reflection of one another, complete with differences and similarities. But if I find another bottle of it, I’ll most definitely buy it again; the liveliness of it is incomparable! Man! The decade from 1970 to 1979 did really spawn some of the most beautiful perfumes ever created! If you find any of them, don’t hesitate. They are treasures!

Indeed, Guirlandes is very similar to Anaïs Anaïs like many people say. But I’d say it’s a mix of Anaïs + Balenciaga Michelle. Maybe a touch of Ysatis as well. Just a drop. This fresh and invigorating, lesser known Carven, takes the green floral aspect of ‘premier parfum’ but amplifies big time the heady white florals. Tuberose and a ghost lily reign supreme here, with a touch of creaminess, the kind that graced everything from Chloé to Michelle, all the way to Ysatis and Jil Sander N°4. It smells and feels more 70’s hazy home catalogue than early 80’s pop block color IKEA furniture. These garlands of flowers mix with hyacinth and specks of galbanum for the green effect, evolving to a heady melange of tuberose primordially and lily secondly. A garden in the city. I see Rome. Maybe because a film that comes to mind seamlessly is Dario Argento’s Tenebrae! Why couldn’t it be displayed among the Hermès and Chloés that grace the opening scene?! And so Guirlandes becomes the peach fuzz sensuality of Anaïs, evolved! Some years older but still a play on innocence/desire. And since I have a very soft spot for Anaïs Anaïs and its close relative Arrogance Femme, I love Guirlandes! Also, for a 90% vol edt, this packs some very serious punches; both in its heady sillage and mesmerizing longevity!

Cristalle - Edt - Henri Robert & Edmond Roudnitska Vintage early 80’s or possibly late 70’s bottle. Bergamot, Petigrain, Galbanum, Lemon, Cumin, Basil, Hyacinth, Honeysuckle, Peach Jasmine, Lily of the Valley, Narcissus, Cyclamen Oakmoss, Vetiver, Sandalwood, Musk, Patchouli, Civet, Ambergris Official notes for the original vintage edt. Taken from syllektikaaromata.gr, a veritable encyclopedia for anyone who speaks Greek. A crystal echo… Cristalle is (or was?) the bitchy ice queen Chanel, a title usually given to N°19 unjustly. But underneath the cold façade, there are hints of darkness and grit which may be undetectable most times, but give the fragrance its beauty. They anchor it -vintage Cristalle has a good tenacity- and at the same time they serve as a backbone and counterweight for the rest of the notes to shine. Not every animalic note has to be front and center all the time! I love them and can’t get enough of them, but let’s remember that half a century ago, they were also fixatives. And any proper perfume that was proud of its worth had them. Cristalle is a member of the fresh Eaux family that reigned supreme in the late 60’s to late 70’s. Every house had them, all displaying various commonalities and more differences. I don’t find Cristalle icy cold, but cool. Grey with specks of emerald green. There’s raspiness but also gentility. The greenness is offset by a gentle floral embrace to soften the edges. The freshness of the citrus is not tart or bright, but slightly fermented. Every fresh Eau of the time made allusion to freshness, drops of carefree youth…a burst of invigorating vitality that none the less was a prelude to a perfume underneath it. It’s not about a light and ephemeral sensation. It’s about a fragrance that sparkles because of its jovial opening. The icy bitch side, for me, it’s the reveal of its tease. Under the green canopy of galbanum and moss and vetiver, under the gentle nectar of honeysuckle and the raspy woody base…that’s were you find a spicy cumin tease not too dissimilar to the heftier Eau d’Hermès and a gentle salty naughtiness that like a good salad dressing, enhances the explosion of flavor. This young Mademoiselle Chanel has the naïveté and the fresh sparkle of an endless spring day, the grey of an early sky before the sun comes out, the bloom of a Parisian garden…but she also has a reservedness, a distance. A slightly dark mind perhaps, when said distance becomes close distance. A Chanel rigidness that never becomes frailty, but familiarity. She’s not the carefree laughter of Diorella, Eau Folle, Y, Eau Vivre..she’s not the Ô de Lancôme or Eau de Roche (and Rochas) tomboy. She’s the serious and intelectual one, the one that makes you wonder what happens when the glasses go and the jacket falls…what’s underneath??

Eau Dynamisante is one of the finest examples of lemony fresh Eaux, that dries down to a gorgeous chypre finish. I’ve gone through bottles of it for years, the shower gel and mousse, the body lotion and the dry oil. It’s invigorstingly fresh, sharp and simply feel good. I haven’t sensed its aromatherapy benefits (my favorite aromatherapy line will always be Lancôme’s magnificent AromaCalm and AromaFit, and Helena Rubinstein’s Art of Spa), but on a hot day, this is like an endless glass of cool water with a lemon wedge. Sadly, and it’s always been the case, it has a very poor lasting power even when layered copiously with the rest of the products. A 200ml bottle can last me a month with daily use. I sometimes splurge on the shower gel, but even though I love its rosemary and geranium piquancy with its spicy carnation and coriander facet, I can’t justify a bottle each month. Nonetheless for anyone who enjoys fresh scents with a classic elegance, Ô de Lancôme, Eau de Rochas, Diorella, Alvarez Gomez, 4711, Cristalle…this is a more herbal/more dry/more chypre no brainer. 5/5 either way!

I’m a self confessed vintage lover. Anything from the 80’s and before usually has my full attention. Having been around in the 90’s and early 00’s as a teen gives me the memories and the fun I had. But in retrospect, today, I much prefer the eras before the Calone wave that inundated the world, circa the first half of 1990 boogie. Joop, which is officially from 1987, feels decidedly 1997! But I mean that in a good way! Heavy, padded and coiffed to the 9s it should feel 80’s. But instead, it takes me back to the 90’s, and perfumes like this, Boucheron, D&G Red cap, Sicily, Addict, Nu, Dolce Vita, Rush, Hypnotic Poison, Jungle, Dune…these are some major loves that remind me of my carefree teen years and the fun of the past. Joop is a heavily heavy ambery orange blossom, studded with vanilla and tonka shades amidst warm spicy tones. Its shades of orange/red/brown warm me up like mulled wine. Some perfumes work like specific time machines; I’ve always felt Poeme (it shares a similar albeit gentler olfactive resonance) and Tresor are 8 year old me standing in front of the Lancôme counter. Joop transports me to Christmas shopping. It was so different! It actually felt special! A warm ambiance, Xmas music playing, warming smells anywhere you went, be it chestnuts in street carts, cinnamon potpouri in stores… Joop is a winter scent for me. Underneath the heavy velvet drapes that hide a very vanillic ambery coziness, where orange blossom is so heavy and heady that sometimes feels artificial, where carnation, coriander, sandalwood give it character, all the while gentle aldehydes lift it up…it becomes a comfort scent. One that feels like home and at the same time it cuts through the cold like a hot knife through butter. A sweet oriental or a spicy floriental? It’s perfume with a big fat P. Perfume with presence. Perfume with power. And in the vintage Lancaster bottles, of which I own two, there’s a big fat Sillage and a big fat Longevity. This is the middle finger to Calone; from Germany with love!

THIS REVIEW IS FOR DANA SYMBOLE, WHICH IS NOT IN THE DATABASE. Symbole has two different versions; a 1940’s and a 1960’s version. I have the 60’s although I believe it could very well fit in the 40’s. I also believe firmly that the nose is either Jean Carles or Paul Vacher. There is an uncanny similarity to Miss Dior and Ma Griffe. Symbole, the perfume that stays even if you have a hectic lifestyle. Light but tenacious. That’s what the ads say, and I believe it was part of a larger collection encompassing the same theme as Patou did with his Amour Amour, Adieu Sagesse and Que sais Je, but I can’t be sure as there is practically 0 information available. Symbole greets me with a very prim and proper Miss Dior feel. Aldehydes, a floral core rich in ylang, rose and jasmine. Powdery but at the same time serious. Fatty even. And from the get go, green and spicy! But Symbole smells like a green fiery chypre. Not far behind are rich oakmoss, leather, slight animal notes… it becomes leather prominent in the mid drydown akin to Bandit and Cabochard. Smoky, spicy, leathery but also cosmetic powder. It feels as if the flowers become richer with some gardenia nuances… Long lasting, good sillage, and in its day a more affordable perfume like Dana was back then. Serious quality without the hefty price tag. While Tabu never really clicked, Symbole and the 50’s to 70’s releases always felt more me. An excellent green and spicy chypre!

It’s hard to imagine today Alliage as a sport fragrance. For starters, are there even sport fragrances marketed to women today? And what is marketed for men is a synth wood/watery/metallic mess. That or a sweet, Axe/body spray dud. Well, back in the good ol 70’s, Lauder envisioned Alliage. A sport fragrance for the dynamic woman that loved the outdoors, exercised, and even in a sweaty environment, acknowledged the need to smell good. On a man? Simply dashing! Alliage works wonders for me. At first I thought that my bottle might have been changed by the passing of time (I have a 70’s bottle of Eau d’Alliage) but with subsequent wears, I realize that this is the smell of it and what Lauder envisioned. Alliage smelled today, is far more butch and masculine smelling than 99,99% of men oriented releases. It’s green, piney and leathery. It’s full of the herbal bitterness of wildlife, forests, countryside and even the coast. Pine, conifers and resins atop flashes of lemon and bergamot. Galbanum is BIG here. It’s the main star, with heavy and hefty doses of moss, musk and lavender. It is utterly refreshing and revitalizing, and I can’t help but wonder that Jean Martel drew inspiration for his seminal Paco Rabanne Pour Homme a year later. Alliage isn’t floral. It feels more like a cousin to Bandit and Cabochard in a more thumping American way. I can totally see a woman wearing it to a tennis match, a polo match or horseriding. There’s leather lurking underneath, with some heavy nitromusks, a very pronounced vetiver, and a gentle shaving cream accord that many I’m sure, appreciated well outside the sporting field. It’s dynamic, vivid, calming and luxurious all at once. The simple angular bottle with its ribbed silver cap fits it perfectly. Even as an edt, it boasts, like all Lauders, impressive tenacity and sillage. It definitely holds to a full day of activity, with a freshly bottled freshness I’ve come to discover hidden under its deep green and brown facade! Today, it works as a perfect masculine fragrance as well. It always did, but fragrance gender is more blurred today than it was 4 decades ago; today, the genderless quality of perfume is more celebrated. The sad thing is that 99,99% of younger (and not so) people today, would probably frown their nose at it and dismiss it as an ‘old lady’ and ‘old man’ smell. Bad for them, better for anyone of us who can appreciate it. 9.5/10!

I think I must be the only one not getting the leather overdose in Rien. I find it a cold fragrance. Metallic. If someone told me that this is called Secretions Magnifiques, I would probably believe them.

Incense as in Orthodox Church in winter, after a night of heavy rain. Metallic spoons serving communion wine, iron candle holders. A snuffed candle by the breeze of opening doors. In front of me, an older Eastern European woman, wearing a Chanel N°5 imitation. It makes my nose itch but I come closer because I want to get another whiff of it. Lights out. The heavy rain must have affected the power supply. In the darkness, light from outside. And in the corner of the door, this young guy wearing a leather jacket is smoking, peeking through the glass paneled door. I close my eyes and I smell the flowers sold by the cemetery entrance.

This is Rien. To me. What I don’t experience in my dream church but can smell in real life and somehow anchors me to my dream (was it a dream?) is an animalic background. I close my eyes again. I walk to the half open door, and that young man is wearing Kouros. I open them and I can sense its last remains of sillage in my room.

9/10. Sillage and longevity from here to eternity.

I think I must be the only one not getting the leather overdose in Rien. I find it a cold fragrance. Metallic. If someone told me that this is called Secretions Magnifiques, I would probably believe them. Incense as in Orthodox Church in winter, after a night of heavy rain. Metallic spoons serving communion wine, iron candle holders. A snuffed candle by the breeze of opening doors. In front of me, an older Eastern European woman, wearing a Chanel N°5 imitation. It makes my nose itch but I come closer because I want to get another whiff of it. Lights out. The heavy rain must have affected the power supply. In the darkness, light from outside. And in the corner of the door, this young guy wearing a leather jacket is smoking, peeking through the glass paneled door. I close my eyes and I smell the flowers sold by the cemetery entrance. This is Rien. To me. What I don’t experience in my dream church but can smell in real life and somehow anchors me to my dream (was it a dream?) is an animalic background. I close my eyes again. I walk to the half open door, and that young man is wearing Kouros. I open them and I can sense its last remains of sillage in my room. 9/10. Sillage and longevity from here to eternity.

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.