Oh Cinnabar! You gorgeous gorgeous one! You somehow arrived with the wrong foot, even though your timing was perfect! Forever eclipsed by Opium, my favorite oriental, Cinnabar comes first as well, showcasing different notes and moods, but still belonging to that pantheon of spices that Tabu and Youth Dew helped build. Review of late 70’s splash edp and 2010 edp. They say imitation is the sincerest form of flattery, but if Cinnabar imitates anything, is simply the lineage that came before her. Tabu paved the way for animalic spices, Youth Dew followed in her Americana country style, and by the late 70’s, Opium was born, stealing all the flashes and staying in the spotlight for a whole decade. How could Cinnabar compete? Some time ago, I read in The Black Narcissus that most -if not all- vintage Lauders have a ‘rich divorcée accord’ that permeates, creating a somewhat stuffy style. In a way it’s true, but this rich divorcée gets down to business, gets her hands dirty, and when she throws a party, she spends the day in the kitchen making sure everything is perfect, before getting glammed up for her guests (and herself) and welcoming them with a warm smile. She wasn’t born rich and she knows her way around work. Maybe that’s Estēe all along. And like a true artist, that’s the part of her that lives in her perfumes! Cinnabar is a supercharged floral oriental, more floral than Opium and Youth Dew. It’s the spices from before but accesorized with the finest floral essences and the juiciest citrus notes to enliven them. Cinnabar throws the spice rack at you, but it doesn’t let it take over. Instead, the flowers soften the bang and the smoothness of the amber and sandalwood hover like a silk drape. And there’s everything but the kitchen sink in here! But it doesn’t overwhelm; bright aldehydes remove the opaqueness and make it feel like it was originally called, Soft Youth Dew! Estēe went that path before and for the big and shiny 80’s she wanted something a bit different. So, you get the cloves and the carnation and the spices, all dressed up in buttery ylang, dark roses, narcotic jasmine and tuberose, with bright flashes of light; aldehydes, lilly of the valley, mandarin, without smelling like a pomander. Neon lights at the discotheque. Peach and vanilla add some smooth creaminess, while sandalwood and incense bring it back to its oriental self before landing on a bed of oakmoss, musks and civet. The starchy feeling, like a hot iron and most likely from the aldehydes, is what separates it from the rest and to some makes it stuffy. I don’t feel that way. If Opium wears a bright kaftan, has a tanned glow and dances all night long in Les Bains Douches or Le Privilège, Cinnabar has dinner at a classy restaurant and then goes to Studio 54 to dance and have fun, sans drugs. She’s wearing a metallic bodice, silk pants and has her hair slicked back. Vintage Cinnabar is all this! 2011 Cinnabar has more of the starchy aldehydes, less florals and less spices, but still smells like Cinnabar, and seen from a 30+ year perspective, she’s finally eclipsed Opium (the modern); where current Opium smells cheap, plasticky and screechy, with a lot of hot iron starch, Cinnabar smells mostly like it used to, rich divorcée accord included. The difference is that in Cinnabar that comes natural! If you find vintage please dive in! But if you have the current formulas available to choose, forget Opium and go with Cinnabar. Time has been kinder with her, and today she eclipses momma Youth, Opium, Coco and everything in between that once upon a time stole her show.

One small thing I’d like to clarify first. Just like Calandre before it, Metal, launched in 1979 or even sooner, came as pure perfume and edt from the start; Eau de Metal just like Eau de Calandre were the original edt versions. Metal edt and Calandre edt are later reformulations from the 90’s that skipped the Eau. Also, if you want the real note list for EdM, check the Metal page for the perfume. 1970’s 200ml splash reviewed, rectangular bottle with black plastic/metal cap. Silver/red box with vintage silver PR logo. The opening of EdM feels and smells way ahead of its time. Calandre ushered space age futurism in perfume but Metal cemented it. And EdM smells like hot metal way before it became modern. Aldehydes, cool greens that lack the bite of galbanum and a super potent lilly of the valley that reminds me of Diorissimo but 3D. You don’t get a dark mossy feel, instead it feels like stems, forest floor after a shower. The heart shows us more of the flowers, but they feel aloof and cold. Like a florists but without the artificialness that permeates more modern fragrances. There’s no cellophane or stale vase water; instead, they’re just cooling in the fridge. But at the same time they’re heady if that makes sense. Rose, powdery iris along cooler hyacinths, glimpses of white flowers in all their heaviness playing in tune. Muguet steals the show, but you can sense the rest having a minor spotlight. The base, which btw does an amazing job of anchoring everything on skin for hours, shows us what perfumes were made of; oakmoss galore starts showing up along with creamy sandalwood and a variety of musks, dare I say a smidgeon of civet to bring life to the entire composition? Classic meets modern, hefty base notes allow the cooler and futuristic style to shine, and what now feels avant garde (the hot metal accord in H24 anyone?) here, it shines. Innovative for its time, the metal aspect of Metal and to a lesser degree Calandre, is a play with musks that lacks the exaggeration of newer stuff, has none of the synthetic smell and overall lends a hot iron feel, similar to what aldehydes can do. The whole evolution is covered in this sensual and silky, natural smelling hot metal accord but it never steals the show. In H24, the most recent example I can think of, this feel pierces and takes over, smelling way too dependent on synthetics. In EdM it’s used in moderation, just like salt in food, and manages to convey a hot encounter that started on a Calandre and keeps going forever. It’s Barbarella, getting to know Earth, men, and having fun, never taking of her Paco Rabanne metal incrusted dress! Paco Rabanne was a true visionary, modernist, and his early creations follow a pattern without being redundant. One continues where the other ends, and while Calandre, as the first, took a more classic approach heading towards Calèche territory, Metal, younger and fiercer, follows that path but makes it her/his own. Metal, glass, plexi, you name it. Aldehydes to lift it off, a neon muguet as the star, and clouds of hot steam to take of to a dystopian garden. It couldn’t be more wonderful! Highly unisex, classic and modern, if you guys enjoy Futur (another marvel of the 70’s), Calandre, Fidji, Rive Gauche, Calèche, Y…this is a gem to be discovered! Gorgeous sillage and longevity!

A few days ago got me thinking about Arrogance pour Homme, the first version. A timely article made me want to revisit it. I’ve had about 4-5 bottles of it; the edt, the edp, and there’s little difference in terms of performance; unlike the brochure inside the box, the edp isn’t that much more powerful. My last bottle, just over half way through, from 1986, starts with a powerfully bitter punch. The first thing that comes to mind every time I spray is Bandit. That worn leather smell, slightly bitter, green, smoky. That’s the opening of Arrogance, a typical 80’s leather fougère. Soon after what I mostly get is the dirty florals I’m used to smelling in Kouros, Furyo, and to some extent Ténéré. A sweaty melange of white florals, honey in its animalic facet and spices or spicy florals like carnation, all still covered in the bitter green opening salvo. So many flowers smoked and spiced so that it doesn’t feel or smell like Fracas. It still amazes me how skill and talent can show us so many facets of the same thing. Arrogance isn’t a fragrance that screams. Yes, it’s an 80’s babe; it has sillage, it projects and it lasts well. It’s powerful compared to todays standards. But I find Furyo for instance much much louder. And Kouros it’s a league on its own! Slowly the drydown starts showing. The floral notes start to recede and the leathery castoreum makes itself known. Now, there’s a wonderful talcum halo that softens the leather, calms down the artemisia and the spices, and what you’re left with is a light green smell, slightly sweet and spicy that makes the whole thing smell lived in. The drydown becomes suave, elegant, and here I always catch glimpses of Antaeus; the part where Al Pacino (Cruising, 1981) comes home from the meatpacking district after getting off. This is his alter ego, his loving husband facade. So yeah, for lovers of the above fragrances I’d say Arrogance is a must have. It’s still found cheaply and there are still bottles of the original Pikenz and Dennis formulation available. And for those who don’t really feel this genre or 70’s/80’s powerhouses I’d still say it’s worth trying if you don’t feel like spending the rising bucks for the last remaining bottles of Kouros, Antaeus, Furyo, Paco Rabanne pour Homme etc just to get what they’re about! It might not have the prestige or fame of the others but it has nothing to envy. And Italian perfumery of the past century was magnificent and on par with any French designer. Just don’t expect the monster it’s made to be, it’s strong but easily tamed!

Dolce Vita! The mother of Jaipur Homme, a sibling of Feminite du Bois, a different side of the same coin. But one I love even more than the rest! If FdB takes cedar and stewed fruits as it’s damascone rich centerpiece, and Jaipur offers the powdery version of it, laced with cinnamon instead of woods, then Dolce Vita takes the best of both worlds. Rich flowers laced with a wonderfully potent cinnamon that recalls facets of Jungle l’Elephant, decadent woods that have seen ripe fruit rotten, a powder veil that recalls older eastern powder compacts and a musky drydown that shows signs of leather. It might be a family member of the above dressed in a leather jacket. Or it might be a leather corset. Even though it never had a major spotlight and it somehow wanted to be seen as a beautiful, jolie, laid back woman living la Dolce Vita, it was far more than that. There was always a darker side to that famous smile in the ads and the mystic musk that envelops the entire composition let’s you take a peek inside. Vintage Dolce Vita (1995 edt bottle reviewed) was a gorgeous powerhouse, although never at Poison decibels that came at a time when spicy fragrances wanted to shed that over the top Opiumness and wanted instead to give a warmer skin aura. Colder spices, creamy trails, all laced with classic floral notes and bursts of freshness up top. Dolce Vita scored all those boxes, and after making us fall in love, she winked and left her animalic breath on skin for hours. What a tease! And what a beauty!! Small note: the coconut that appears as a basenote is in fact castoreum. Or was. I have no idea how watered down the modern versions are.

Man! Obsession (vintage) comes heavily loaded with insinuation. Sexually supercharged and almost going into overdrive, but at the same time not overtly obvious. The bitter green opening might seem deceiving, the slight plumpness might make you think there’s a fruity sweetness there. And there is, for a few seconds, before a heavily ambered velvet curtain falls. Forget amber as warm, cozy, chewy. It’s dark, smoldering and slightly acrid, heavily charged by resins and spices and slightly sweetened like sweat drops sliding down your skin. The bitter green opening I’m sure hides some galbanum, the fruitiness is simply a glass of water for the rest of the notes to bloom. Coriander lends a slight lemony touch before a floral heart reveals it’s dark beauty. It’s not pink roses and immaculate jasmine petals; it’s a dark almost black boozy rose. It’s a highly indolic and ripe jasmine that sometimes goes to banana territory. Orange blossom feels like the most innocent note here, with its honeyed sweetness. But everything is covered in a veil of spices, mostly nutmeg and allspice without the glow of cinnamon present, and then some more amber powder, which feels as if it’s been ground with genuine civet paste. And this civet here is the real deal; rancid, pissy, shocking, smooth, erotic and enveloping. It lends its power to the entire composition making every second of it appear as if covered in this divine and unctuous balsam. What surprises me here is that I don’t find the civet I’m used to in stuff like La Nuit or Kouros or Ysatis; in all cases it’s the real glandular secretion but here the civet feels and smells as if dried by the sun, to evolve into fairy dust (and what a kinky fairy we have here!!) and smell purposely more acrid than the warm and sensual civet of other fragrances. It could be the effect of spices, but for all its worth Obsession smells on me like dirty amber powder with slight touches of everything else. I love it! Most perfumes with rich animalic notes showcase a crescendo of dirtiness that slowly rises to a climax. It can be more or less intense and always present, but it builds up. Obsession feeds you an orgasm at the very start and slowly starts again as if to get you to a second co(u)ming at the end of its 24h lifespan on skin! The end result is a smell that now I know and recognize from the past, no wonder still clinging on the skin of someone that sprayed it in 1985! Vintage built in sprayer bottle reviewed, edp.

Barynia! Lost in time like so many others, hardly ever mentioned when 80’s perfumes come to mind and as of now fairly cheap to find. But it’s not something I would go out of my way to repurchase. Edp review, 200ml splash from first release. Barynia reminds me of many other fragrances, it doesn’t stand out, and while nice it doesn’t seem to offer something different. It’s under the radar and I can understand why. The opening is a bright beam of aldehydes, piercing in their blinding sparkle. Along them shines a beautiful jasmine that recalls First, and for the first half hour it almost smells like a brighter version of it. The similarity is uncanny. Soon after the rose appears, and along the carnation, it adds some spiciness to the retreating aldehydes. What’s left is a spicy and piquant veil that reminds me of the sudsy smell of the original Maja soap. The heart is a white floral bouquet. Tuberose along gardenia take prominence and the scent that emanates reminds me of another white floral, Michelle, albeit the latter has more personality (for me). Barynia doesn’t have much development after that. The drydown, with all its heavy notes feels smooth and lingering but nothing stands out. Oakmoss, sandalwood, civet (at times very noticeable in the opening, at times sadly absent), musk…they all appear kind of muted, like the last remnants of yesterdays perfume. I wish they had more presence to anchor it on skin. And I don’t think it’s a matter of degradation; my box was still cello sealed and the brightness and freshness of the scent is a testimony to its preservation and how well it was made. Back when quality mattered and existed. But as the “first fine fragrance from Helena Rubinstein” I expected more. Not everything can be an Opium, or a Poison, or an Ysatis, but honestly in all its beauty (it’s a gorgeous spring and summer fragrance) there’s little personality. It’s that beautiful stranger that doesn’t stand out of the crowd, no matter how hard she/he tries. I don’t regret owning it, the sillage is quite potent at first but slowly calms down to a very decent longevity, but once my humongous bottle runs out that’s it. My Michelle and company will suffice. Still, I do recommend it for lovers of vintage fragrances, and particularly those who feel a special attachment for late 60’s up to the late 70’s scents; Barynia would have shined back then!

Class! It’s the word that best fits Eau du Soir, along with elegance. Moss bomb, at least in older formulations, EdS has retained most of its beauty but the golden thread of age erasing shows. In a nutshell, I would go with any bottle prior to 2012. Comparison between various vintages. 1990 black atomizer, the original black bottle. This is the most glorious version of it! Obviously, and just newly launched, this is oakmoss galore. Rich rose and jasmine heart, a beguiling verdancy with probably more than a little galbanum, the honeyed warmth of syringa (just like in Knowing with pitosporum), and the razor sharp bitterness of juniper. Shaving foam associations welcome. The drydown is dark moss, vetiver and sandalwood that give the ‘Soir’ its meaning! Sillage and longevity is astounding here. 2002 round purse spray, refillable. This was, supposedly, the first limited edition (2001) before the colored bottles but I’ve no proof of that. The smell is practically the same but there is diminished potency. It behaves like an edt version. Notes seem sharper but overall I still very much like it. The brightness and regal elegance that screams when it hits your skin is unmistakable. I’d love it more had it the potency of prior versions. 2004/2006 limited edition colored bottles. Here is where Sisley started tweaking almost yearly with the formula, as if to find a way to fit into IFRA and the scent. Various bottles, some with oakmoss, some with treemoss, some with both or without any, feel and smell dissonant. EdS is there but it smells like a non finished version. It’s shrill, sharp, the floral heart smells poor and it’s only saved by its characteristic juniper tang. Oakmoss varies from year to year. 2008/2011 limited edition colored bottles. Here, Sisley seems to have found a balance. It overall smells better than years before and the sillage and potency have returned. There’s more honeyed floral-ness than before, the galbanum seems absent, but the drydown brings back the signature darkness from early bottles. It’s dry but creamy, warm but still reeking of that signature opening that channels through the entire fragrance evolution. It smells complete and it’s my favorite formula after the black atomizers. 2012 onwards. And here, it’s downhill until today. With stricter restrictions in place, Eau du Soir still retains its character but it feels alien. Sharper than ever, there’s no emotion. The flowers smell wilted, the base feels like a simple white wash of musk and there’s nothing to anchor it on skin. Just like post 2016 Aromatics, both of which are highly recognizable, individual and stern, the warmth and heart are gone. Both, easily converted into signature perfumes for dynamic personalities and never forgotten, with a loyal following, remain so because of the loyalty of their followers. Smell it today and it’s a million times better than the rest of the perfume counter. Smell it for the first time and they’re stunning powerhouses among a sea of nothingness. But smell them after years of knowing them and you’ll sense the change. I’m not gonna lie, I have a 2009 turquoise/coral bottle and two 1990 black ones and I’m perfectly happy. Had I not had the opportunity to get them I would still buy the current, because even if it’s tummy tucked and lifted, it still has class, elegance, and smells infinitely better than the rest of the perfumes in a department store. And whatever reformulations, I’m positive they were made the best they could. It’s a shame that the norm is to disfigure a perfume to its very bones.. Long live Eau du Soir.

White Linen is the epitome of clean, fresh, cool, invigorating. Sparkling. It may not be my favorite aldehyde (Rive Gauche and Calandre hold that spot, along vintage N°5) but it’s my benchmark as an aldehyde with the above statements. Vintage has a dark animal vein running thru, and modern feels the same minus the potency and the dark underbelly. I’m starting with the modern version, of which I usually go through a bottle a year. The diminished power requires copious spraying, but with that it ensures it lasts all day on skin and clothes. And there’s no other fragrance that conveys such a sparkle. It’s at once complex and simple, layered but understandable. If I close my eyes I can see and smell pure fresh mountain air. That clean breath, that coolness that permeates your nostrils and opens up your nose. Everything else smells magnified. I sometimes struggle to use it in winter as it feels like an ice pick piercing thru my veins. But I still do. And in summer, it’s the best tonic, for skin and soul. Aldehydes rule here, the flowers and green notes get lost in translation. What’s left it’s a veil of colors that dances on skin. Green, yellow, pink, purple, white. Shades of aldehyde that smell like everything at once, at moments green and herbal, at times rosy, sometimes even white floralish. Always I sense an undercurrent of moss and when it reaches its long drydown, a warm ambery goodness that slightly warms the soul. I wouldn’t say it reminds me of white linen hanging in the sun as that would imply a warmer fragrance. It reminds me of that feel, stepping out of the beach with a wet swimsuit and lying under the sun. The contrast of the heat hitting your cold skin and droplets evaporating. It’s a scent of emotions. The vintage; the first version feels decidedly creamier and more powdery. The aldehydes are as potent as ever but they stay as a background note given a couple of hours. The flowers bloom and the mossy side covers the entire landscape. The civet and honey cast a slightly bruised patina of warmth and sensuality and the amber drydown feels somewhat spicy and sexy. It goes from cool to hot and from effervescent to sizzling. Dirtier but still clean! Sillage and longevity. 6/8 modern and 9/9 for the vintage. Tip: a spray of a musk heavy fragrance and then modern White Linen on top adds some lost dimension and brings it closer to the original while still respecting its marble coolness.

It’s kinda ironic that a 200ml body spray from Lush, that costs around 35€, outperforms a 50€ small size designer perfume (edp). What’s even worse is that brands laugh at our face with their watered sugar syrups all the while Rose Jam body spray outperforms them in quality, smell, performance and value. Here you have a wonderful lemon rose, with hints of green geranium that smells like a honeyed loukhoum but sans the powder sugar dusting on top. Instead, it’s filled with a lemon jelly center that counterbalances the sweetness. You know the smell if you’ve tried Rose Jam shower gel, Ro’s Argan conditioner or any other rose themed Lush product. You also know the smell if you’ve tried Rose Explosion from V&R, the black Extase from Nina Ricci or any other ‘Middle East inspired rose’. It smells heavily floral, sweet and earthy, and while it’s potency can make it somewhat heavy at times (just use one spray of it) it doesn’t disappoint. Smells nicer than the edp version and closer to the shower gel, and if you like heavy roses without excess sugar, this is a wonderful and economical one disguised as a body spray. Don’t be fooled, it’s anything but that. And it doesn’t pretend to be what it’s not!

Green urban jungle. Or a garden in the middle of a crowded city. Someone walks by wearing L’Ombre dans L’Eau and the sillage fills the air. There’s a pond in the middle, right next to a deli serving a homemade guacamole adorned with basil. That’s Synthetic Jungle. Nice, but for me redundant. I own the vintages of which this is supposed to be inspired, and I can sense a passing resemblance to Private Collection in the opening stage, so it’s there, the inspiration and the style. N°19 is nowhere to be found. As a beginners green, this is nice. But for hardcore green and chypre fans like myself and others, this is pointless. L’Ombre dans L’Eau is the closest resemblance I’ve found, and I’ve never particularly enjoyed that one, but I find SJ more appealing. For me it’s a no, I’ve enjoyed my sample but I’ve no need to go after it. There are far better green fragrances on the market, both vintage (eBay) and new (the stunning Dryad is an exercise in all shades of green). Oh Malle! You had me hoping for more…