#Eau de Cologne Impériale de Guerlain

[parfumieren]

Three Eaux de Cologne (Guerlain)

Tomas -- the cheerful philanderer of Milan Kundera's novel The Unbearable Lightness of Being -- adheres to a self-written code of ethics when arranging his many liaisons. "The important thing," he claims, "is to abide by the rule of threes. Either you see a woman three times in quick succession and then never again, or you maintain relations over the years but make sure that the rendezvous are at least three weeks apart".

Tomas breaks his own rule by remaining with (and even marrying) the tormented Tereza-- but the woman who "understands him best" is Sabina, an artist with whom he shares a bond untrammeled by jealousy or possessiveness. While Tereza represents all that is heavy and serious, Sabina personifies the weightlessness of freedom from attachment. Over time, her ephemeral quality proves contradictory to both Tomas and Tereza, for while she slips in and out of their lives, they cannot forget her-- nor she them. There is something about Sabina which lingers in memory, if not in actuality.

If Sabina were a fragrance, could she be anything but eau de cologne?

When something lovely, brief, plentiful, and refreshing is called for, eau de cologne is the obvious answer. Other fragrance compositions are "heavy" -- complex, deliberate, meant to be taken (and worn) seriously. Cologne is "light" -- a fleeting pleasure intended for impromptu use.

Yet for all its transience, eau de cologne can make a deep impression on the psyche. Many perfume wearers I've met tell of the indelible mark made in their memories by a certain fragrance worn by an older relative. More than half the time, that fragrance is an EDC. The paradox inherent in eau de cologne is that one enjoys so brief a time with it-- but once the bond is established, loyalty lasts a lifetime.

The first eau de cologne released by Giovanni Maria Farina in 1709 set a new standard in fragrance composition and usage. The rules were simple: take a base of orange blossom, peel, and leaf essential oils. Combine them variously with other citrus oils (lemon, lime, mandarin, grapefruit, bergamot), herbs (rosemary, thyme, lavender, artemisia), and florals (usually indolic white flowers such as jasmine or narcissus). Dilute the result in a disproportionately large amount of alcohol (up to nine parts out of ten). Lose the inhibitions, and start splashing it on.

Guerlain's introduction to the eau de cologne playing field came fairly late in the game (1853), by which time the genre was well-established. Guerlain's contribution was the use of stronger aromatic fixatives such as musk and cedar, which preserved the airiness of the classic EDC format while extending its life by a crucial heartbeat. Aside from Farina 1709 Original, 4711 Kölnisch Wasser, and Lanman & Murray Florida Water, the Guerlain series of eaux offers about the best introduction to the eau de cologne aesthetic that I can think of.

Over the last two weeks -- during which the East Coast became a veritable EZ-Bake Oven and the B.O. factor among the public I serve reached an all-time ascendancy -- I've thoroughly enjoyed flitting back and forth between Impériale, Fleurs de Cédrat, and Eau de Guerlain. If breezy, fresh, and fruity is the antidote to summer doldrums, I never needed it more than now.

Created in 1853, Eau de Cologne Impériale is the oldest of Guerlain's colognes. It kicks off with an intense lemon-lime accord, vibrant and exuberant, before revealing its beautiful-but-brief verveine-and-orange-blossom heart. Of course it lasts no longer on skin than it has taken me to type these words, but it's not meant to. One only needs a momentary boost to avoid slipping into a hot-weather case of the vapours.

Eau de Fleurs de Cédrat requires a little more time to appreciate. This one's a sorbet, creamy in texture but not milky in the slightest, with the dryness of powdered sugar and a mild animalic element which keeps it on skin somewhat longer than its counterparts. Its name is a subtle play on words, touching on cèdrat (citron) and cèdre (cedar), both of which it contains. Whether one is more prominent than the other appears to be a matter for the weatherman to decide. On a cooler day -- if you want to call 90°F "cooler"! -- I found much more orange blossom filling the air around me. During a scorcher, the emphasis is on cedarwood. Either way, enchantée.

What can be said about Eau de Guerlain that could possibly further embellish its well-deserved reputation? In descriptive terms, one could call it a delicious lemon-creme and herbal eau de cologne, and stop right there. Who needs more?

Well, I do.

Having never really tried my hand at layering before, I enlisted the Guerlain eaux within the last week for a running experiment in this time-honored perfume practice. Impériale and Eau de Guerlain were close enough in temperament so as to seem destined to be together, while Fleurs de Cédrat -- while playing well with others -- did just as well on its own. I would like to say that nothing could beat the three eaux layered together, one on top of the other. But as it happened, a bottom layer of Tauer's Lonestar Memories propelled the trio into a new and unexpected paradise. (Who knew that Guerlain could benefit from a touch of the dude ranch?)

Sabina, maybe. At the close of The Unbearable Lightness of Being, she too has migrated toward the setting sun-- settling fitfully on the West Coast, where she continues to create despite the alien quality of life around her. Upon learning of Tomas' and Tereza's demise, she writes a will stipulating that her cremated ashes be dispersed to the four winds, so that she may "die under the sign of lightness".

As she has lived, so Sabina will live on-- faithless, free, and true to her inner nature. She would, says Kundera, be lighter than air.

Scent Elements: Hesperides and herbs

[perfettamentechic]

Outfit of the Day by Paola Moretti

Outfit by Paola Moretti #outfitoftheday #outfit #ootd #wwt #fashionstyle #falloutfit #fallfashion #emiliaclarke #saloni #puralopez #shein #mounser #edieparker #lelesadoughi #pupamilano #milanicosmetics #guerlain #paolamoretti #iho #perfettamentechic

Abito: Saloni Scarpe: Pura Lopez Borsa: SheIn Orecchini: Mounser Anello: Edie Parker Elastico: Lele Sadoughi Nail: Pupa Milano Lipstick: Milani Cosmetics Profumo: Eau de cologne impérial by Guerlain Fashion Blogger: Paola Moretti Instagram: paolamorettiiho

[empiredesimparte]

⚜ Le Cabinet Noir | Throne room at the Tuileries Palace, 22 Prairial An 230

Beginning ▬ Previous ▬ Next

The day after the wedding, Their Imperial Majesties received numerous ambassadors and representatives of Francesim. Among them, the luxury perfume house Guerlain was awarded the Légion d'Honneur. Véronique Guerlain, the current head of Guerlain, presents Her Majesty the Empress with a new imperial eau-de-cologne: le Flacon aux Abeilles. The Empress entrusts the House of Guerlain with the approval of the Crown, thus becoming the official Perfumer of the Imperial Family.

⚜ Traduction française

Le lendemain des noces, Leurs Majestés Impériales reçoivent de nombreux ambassadeurs et représentants de la Francesim. Parmi eux, la Maison de parfumerie de luxe Guerlain reçoit la Légion d'Honneur. Véronique Guerlain, l'actuelle dirigeante de la Maison Guerlain, offre à Sa Majesté l'Impératrice une nouvelle eau-de-cologne impériale : le Flacon aux Abeilles. L'Impératrice confie à la Maison Guerlain l'approbation de la Couronne, et devient ainsi le Parfumeur officiel de la famille impériale.

[lyrasky]

【GUERLAIN/ LA PETITE ROBE NOIR EDP INTENSE】ラ・プティット・ローブ・ノワール レビュー 世界旅するモンロー・ドレスの女　For Sexy Traveler

【GUERLAIN/LA PETITE ROBE NOIR EDP INTENSE】レビュー「世界旅するモンロー・ドレスの女」ラプティットローブノワールFor Sexy Traveler #guerlian #lapetiterobenoir #intense #edp #perfume #ゲラン #香水 #ラプティット #ロープ #ノワール #インテンス #vanilla #musk #cottoncandy #floral #Guerlinade #GourmandFloral #可愛い #香り

  大好きなブランドの1つ。

コスメ・ブランドだとLyraは、このGuerlainが一番好き。

特に拘りはないから、100均でも良ければ使うし、大体アイライナー とか、グロス、パウダー等はiHerbのオーガニック系プチプラ・コスメをガンガン使う。

敏感肌だからあまり冒険はしちゃいけないのですが、色々試した結果、ファンデと香水は、Guerlainが良いのです。

Vanilla好きになってからは、メイン使いはしなくなったGuerlain。

今回、昔使っていたGuerlainの香水のラインから、Vanilla の香りがする物が数年前に新発売されたのをゲットしてみました。

旅の記録のように何となくVanilla の香水探しの記録をし始めたら、なんと、今回で７回目になっちゃった！

今日は、この大好きな老舗ブランドGuerlainの可愛らしい香水を試したので、早速、レビューしちゃいましょう。

(…

[parfumery-wiki]

Mandarine Basilic (eau de toilette) Aqua Allegoria Guerlain

Citrus

Mandarine Basilic belongs to the Aqua Allegoria collection, the first collection of intensely fresh fragrances in perfumery created in 1999.

On the strength of the Guerlain Perfumer’s expertise dating back to the legendary Eau de Cologne Impériale in 1853, the Guerlain Perfumer creates each of the Aqua Allegoria with the freshness of a Cologne and the hold of a Guerlain perfume. The guiding thread of the collection is bergamot, a precious citrus fruit, “Calabrian green gold”, a key ingredient in the Guerlinade.

Mandarine Basilic is a sparkling and cheerful Eau de Toilette, a singular duo steeped in grace and lightness.

Top notes: Mandarin, Basil, Aniseed Heart notes: Green tea, Orange blossom Base notes: Woody notes

[helshades]

Hola Hel! Je t'avais il y a longtemps demandé ton avis pour un parfum "hors niche", après que mes proches m'eurent offert une carte cadeau Sephora; tes excellents conseils m'avaient conduit à découvrir L'air de temps de Nina Ricci, dont je ne me passe plus. Eh bien je me trouve dans la même situation aujourd'hui et je voulais savoir si tu avais d'autres recommandations inspirées! J'avais envisager de tester Jardins de Bagatelle, mais la politique de Guerlain me déplaît et les flacons sont laids.

Je ne me fais pas entièrement l’avocate du Diable en faisant charitablement remarquer que Guerlain n’est pas, au fond, responsable de son propre sort, dans la mesure où c’est l’acquisition de la maison par LVMH en 1994 qui a signé la déchéance artistique d’un monument patrimonial. Je partage le rêve de bien des parfumeurs de voir au moins les parfums historiques inscrits au patrimoine français – ce qui permettrait par exemple de sauvegarder des recettes et des matières premières, face au rouleau-compresseur européen.

Pierre-François-Pascal Guerlain, 1853 : l’Eau de Cologne impériale. Aimé, son fils : Cuir de Russie (1872), Jicky (1889), Eau de Cologne du Coq (1892), Jacques, petit-neveu d’Aimé :  Après l’Ondée (1906), L'Heure Bleue (1912), Mitsouko (1919), Shalimar (1925), Vol de nuit (1933). Jean-Paul, petit-fils de Jacques : Habit Rouge (1965), Chamade (1969), Eau de Guerlain (1974), Nahéma (1979), Jardin de Bagatelle (1983), Samsara (1989). Et encore, j’ai opéré des coupes franches.

Thierry Wasser & Delphine Jelk : La Petite Robe noire (2012, puis environ un million de flankers), dans le flacon historique de L’Heure bleue (!!!), horreur bonbonnesque fétichisée par toutes les jeunes filles en fleur qui aiment tant se sentir unique en portant le même parfum que 73% de leurs copines (les autres porteront un machin à la vanille et au caramel).

Bon, bref, les parfums chez Sephora. Avec une carte cadeau. Euh... elle est généreuse, cette carde cadeau ? Pas au point, j’imagine, de pouvoir te conseiller la collection « Hermessences » de chez, et oui, Hermès, c’est-à-dire le « laboratoire d’idées » de Jean-Claude Ellena qui s’était fait drôlement plaisir avant la retraite, et qui m’oblige à arpenter EBay et Vinted comme une âme en peine pour dénicher des flacons de la collecque à moitié prix, au moins (235€ les 100ml, 359€ les 200ml, je vendrais mon âme pour Cèdre Sambac, j’irais même jusqu’à faire le repassage). Quoique je viens de vérifier : aucune n’est vendue chez Sephora. J’imagine qu’ils connaissent leur public, qui doit être moins désaxé que celui du Printemps – et arrête de me regarder comme ça, je n’achète rien au Printemps, je vais juste sentir, en espérant qu’une vendeuse me prendra en pitié et me glissera une pièce et des échantillons.

Donc, pas d’Hermessence. En revanche, je te somme d’aller respirer Rouge Hermès, l’extravagant floriental d’Akiko Kamei (autrefois Parfum d’Hermès, 1983, jusqu’à sa refondation en 2000, le cas excessivement rare d’un parfum amélioré par une reformulation !) qui est... Et bien, c’est un Jardin de Bagatelle sous stéroïdes, tiens, où le côté « tralala promenons-nous dans des champs totalement réalistes mais zéro bouse de vache » tout en exubérance juvénile s’est changé en sensualité tapageuse façon grande bourgeoise croqueuse d’amants mais grande classe jusqu’au bout de ses longs ongles laqués de rouge. Rouge, c’est la rencontre explosive, exponentiellement florale, de la rose (Damas, pas turque, jamais rose mais rouge, rouge), du santal (laiteux à souhait, épicé, hypnotique), de l’ylang (moins été-à-la-plage, ici, que nuit torride en forêt tropicale avec risques de venin) et de l’iris, qui apporte la poudre, une poudre de riz Art Nouveau qui aurait donné des vapeurs à Zola. Le tout souligné par des épices, du cèdre, et surtout – donnant un aspect fabuleusement ténébreux au fond – de la myrte (arbuste cousin du giroflier et de l’eucalyptus).

Comme tu as parfaitement le droit d’être terrifiée par la perspective, je m’en vais également te conseiller le grand classique 24, Faubourg (créé par le grand Maurice Roucel en 1995, complètement à contre-courant de la mode gel douche & crustacés de l’époque), qui finalement est aussi un concurrent de Jardins de Bagatelle en plus classieux : naturaliste, lumineux, floral blanc et jaune, dans l’esprit il me fait beaucoup penser à L’Air du temps, justement, à la fois délicat, sensuel, joyeux, intemporel et plein de caractère. Fleur d’oranger, jasmin, iris, ylang, gardénia, jacinthe, orange et pêche, sur un lit très doux d’ambre, c’est un parfum tout en retenue mais plein de sensibilité, élégant sans affection ni hauteur, naturel sans être simpliste, un vrai bouquet savamment composé, beau et agréable. Quant à la tenue : remarquable ! Rouge Hermès est un monstre, bien entendu, mais 24, Faubourg est suffisamment opulent pour se défendre, et son évolution est passionnante. Côté popularité, il est très célèbre mais le Jeune® ne porte pas souvent Hermès. C’est dommage, parce qu’en termes de rapport qualité-prix, on reste ici dans l’abordable.

Je ne te recommanderai les Serge Lutens qu’à sentir chez Sephora : on trouve à acheter facilement d’occasion au moins à moitié prix, alors que les tarifs en boutique grimpent pathologiquement. Tom Ford et Armani sont hors de prix, et pas nécessairement supérieurs au reste. Jo Malone aussi c’est un peu cher pour ce que c’est, l’étage en-dessous : très à la mode, un peu cheap dans la confection, personnellement je ne suis pas convaincue mais c’est à voir (à sniffer) par soi-même. J’ai vu aussi que Sephora vend maintenant des Goutal (ses titres les plus populaires en tout cas, comme L’Eau d’Hadrien, très joli mais célèbre pour son évanescence, Petite Chérie le fruité dans l’air du temps, et le magnifique L’Heure Exquise, lequel fait en revanche très mature) et des Comme Des Garçons, qui sont très intéressants dans le genre conceptuel, ce qui peut être assez rebutant suivant les sensibilités, tout le monde n’aimant pas les notes d’encre ou de bitume – personnellement je crains l’aspect parfois un peu industriel de leurs compositions mais je conseille volontiers d’aller s’y pencher dessus pour s’en faire une idée, c’est probablement plus « niche » que ce qu’on sent en grande surface parfumistique d’habitude. À découvrir.

Moins générique comme recommandation, un Chanel, ou plutôt deux Chanel, mais deux facettes d’un même parfum : N°19 et N°19 Poudré. Ce dernier étant l’un de mes jus les plus chéris, tant il est vrai que dès que l’on m’ajoute de la poudre à quelque chose, je ne réponds plus de rien. N°19, c’est un peu le parfum de la résurrection pour la maison Chanel, « Coco » s’étant retirée des affaires quelque temps, puis étant revenue accompagnée de ce concurrent à l’historique N°5, portant cette fois le nombre de sa date d’anniversaire, le 19 août. Gabrielle Chanel mourut quelques semaines après le lancement de ce parfum, ce qui lui confère un rien de nostalgie vintage encore accentué par ses célèbres notes poudrées, très vertes, en fait une alliance de galbanum (le vert) et d’iris (la poudre) extrêmement élégante et sophistiquée. Le vert absolu, bien sûr, c’est l’ancien Vent Vert de Balmain (Germaine Cellier, 1947), et N°19 en est un successeur transparent, mais plus sage. Malgré tout, sa tête où les belles fleurs blanches sont précédées par la férule gommeuse (le galbanum est une gomme-résine longtemps utilisée dans des thériaques pour ses propriétés médicinales, adorée en parfumerie pour ses notes puissantes, balsamiques et herbacées) caractéristique et un peu dérangeante, et les fleurs sont posées sur un fond cuiré, boisé de cèdre, lié de vétiver et de mousse de chêne qui leur confère une espèce de fraîcheur ténébreuse envoûtante. La version véritable est bien l’eau de toilette et non l’eau de parfum, mais la déclinaison N°19 Poudré est une eau de parfum arrondie de muscs blancs, plus douce sans doute, peut-être plus sensuelle encore.

Oh ! ça me fait penser: Mémoire d’une odeur, chez Gucci. Étonnant objet d’Alberto Morillas, à la fois léger et complexe, c’est une étrangeté fascinante dont l’amertume herbeuse surprend beaucoup. En gros, c’est une camomille, très réaliste d’ailleurs, mais c’est bien plus que cela, Morillas s’étant complu à mettre avant des notes habituellement réservées au bruit de fond en parfumerie, comme l’hédione et le salicylate, de sorte que la composition est incroyablement aérienne, moelleuse comme un nuage, impressionniste. Un parti pris vraiment différent des fragrances ci-dessus évoquées, à sentir pour se faire une autre idée du parfum.

[angelitam]

L'Amour selon Guerlain

L’Amour selon Guerlain

Quand un Parfumeur déclare son amour avec des fragrances. La Petite Robe Noire Guerlain

C’était la Saint-Valentin, il y a peu. L’occasion d’offrir une fragrance. Mais souvent, derrière un parfum, se cache une belle histoire d’amour. Le Parfumeur est donc là pour créer selon la personnalité, pour rendre cet amour éternel. Les parfums chez Guerlain racontent ces histoires d’amour.

Le…

[jaimeariansencespedes]

003 – HISTORIA DEL PERFUME – FICHAS (041-060) -

041 – En todas las culturas siempre ha existido - a través del tiempo - una preocupación por la estética y uno de los componentes más importantes son los aromas. Conocerlos, clasificarlos, usarlos, disfrutarlos ha sido una tarea de los hombres en todo tiempo y lugar.

042 – El nombre de perfume o perfumes proviene del latín "per", por y "fumare", a través del humo, haciendo - referencia a la sustancia aromática que desprendía un humo fragante al ser quemado, usado para sahumar.

043 – Inciensar es una costumbre y rito que se puede encontrar referencias desde el antiguo Egipto.

044 – Se hace en honor a los dioses, así como por ello nos dan sus favores en reciprocidad. Siempre se ha creído en dioses, santos, ángeles, seres de luz ó la energía cósmica universal.

045 – Siempre se han ofrecido perfumes en diversos rituales. En la Biblia se encuentran diversas referencias al incienso de la reina de Saba y ritos con incienso.

046 – Sahumadoras - En las diversas religiones del mundo existen muchas formas de su utilización, tanto para consagraciones como celebraciones y procesiones.

047 – El fin de alejar los malos espíritus o demonios. Tienen una gran importancia en toda la historia de la humanidad.

048 – Los romanos no utilizaron la palabra perfume y según demuestra el filólogo Joan Corominas esta aparece por primera vez en lengua catalana en la obra “Lo Somni” de Bernat Metge y a partir de 1528 en la literatura francesa.

049 – En la actualidad, la palabra «perfume» se refiere al líquido aromático que usa una mujer o un hombre, para desprender olores agradables.

050 – El término perfumería tiene cuatro acepciones, pudiendo referirse a un establecimiento comercial donde venden perfumes, al arte de fabricar perfumes, al conjunto de productos y materias de la industria del perfume, o al lugar donde se preparan los perfumes o se perfuman ropas o pieles.

051 – Los griegos lo consideraban de origen divino, los franceses lo usaban para ocultar su falta de higiene, y hoy lo elegimos casi como un accesorio de culto para enaltecer nuestra belleza y sensualidad. Incluso, tenemos nuestros favoritos para el día o la noche, invierno o verano.

052 – En la Antigua Mesopotamia, los sumerios parecen ser los primeros en la historia en crear un perfume. De hecho, en su literatura se encuentran muchas referencias a la perfumería.

053 – Sin embargo, fueron los egipcios quienes, en el Antiguo Egipto, fomentaron esta industria, así como la cosmética. Los sacerdotes eran los encargados de su elaboración, en los laboratorios que tenían para crear también los diferentes ungüentos que utilizaban en sus ceremonias: cada día ungían la estatuilla de Dios con estas elaboraciones, así como al mismo Faraón cuando acudía a las procesiones.

054 – Hacia el 539 aC., los persas dieron un paso más y maceraron flores en aceite, que luego exprimían. Incluso, cuentan que fueron llevadas diferentes flores exóticas provenientes de India y Arabia, para poder crear perfumes en Babilonia.

055 – Cerca del 334 aC., los perfumes llegan a Grecia, tras la conquista de Alejandro Magno, donde los consideraban de origen divino y hasta creían que las mujeres que los elaboraban tenían poderes. Con los griegos aparecen los frascos de cerámica para guardar las fragancias. Y de aquí, a través del Mediterráneo, llegan hasta otras latitudes como el Cercano Oriente, España y Roma, donde se instalaron los primeros perfumistas.

056 – Gracias a que el erudito árabe Avicena descubrió la destilación de aceites de plantas, el comercio y transporte de sustancias aromáticas fue mucho más fácil. Así, alrededor del año 1000, el perfume comienza a convertirse en símbolo de status y opulencia.

057 – Más allá de las distintas connotaciones, la realidad es que hasta inicios del siglo XIX el perfume era utilizado para ocultar la falta de higiene. ¿Cómo? Las personas más elegantes solían llevar un pañuelo perfumado que acercaban a su nariz.

058 – Los comienzos de su popularidad y masificación se los debemos a la emperatriz Eugenia, quien en 1853 le encarga al médico y químico Pierre François Pascal Guerlain la creación de una colonia: Eau de Cologne Impériale.

059 – En 1886, David McDonnell, un vendedor de libros puerta a puerta con visión empresarial, notó que las mujeres disfrutaban más del pequeño perfume floral que les regalaba con la compra de un libro, que de la lectura.

060 – La fragancia, creada en base a heliotropo, brezo y Jacinto, entre otras notas, era elaborada por él mismo. Así, creó la California Perfume Company, compañía que años más tarde pasaría a llamarse Avon Products Inc., y que desde un inicio basó su negocio en la comercialización en forma directa. Revista Estética y Cosmética - jaimeariansen@outlook.com

[fragrancedqueen]

eau de cologne impériale, guerlain

[obscurus-et-violette]

Fantastic Beasts - Perfumes I associate with the characters (part 2)

Credence Barebone

I didn’t really go with Credence’s visual aesthetic. I mean, it basically translates his abuse and all the things he will revolt against so what’s the point? Instead, I chose aromatic and citrus scents that felt more “liberating”, and the complete opposite of the smoky dark environment he’s been raised in.

In that way, my vintage picks were Eau de Cologne Impériale by Guerlain, and 4711 Original Eau de Cologne by Maurer and Wirtz, both summery unisex and citrusy.

I kept the same vibe for my modern picks. Neroli Portofino by Tom Ford feels very similar, with some white floral accord to it. Les Nuits d’Hadrien by Annick Goutal feels a lot like a Mediterranean holiday with its orange and cypress notes. But then so does Neroli Portofino... Maybe I just want Credence to take a holiday on the Mediterranean coast, what do you want, he deserves it at this point...

I also felt the need to add a duo by Penhaligon’s that happens to be very convenient, both because of their actual scent and because they’re named after lunar entities (Obscurus Books’ symbol being the moon) Luna has the same Mediterranean feel than my previous picks, and Endymion Concentré feels like a “in progress” version of Credence. It has the same aromatic notes I chose for Grindlewald and Percival, and incense and leather notes reminiscent of his time living with Mary Lou, but still feels relatively fresh.

Seraphina Picquery

Seraphina definitely needs something memorable that fits her regal looks, something that makes heads turn and exudes confidence. Rose, amber, musk and exotic woods work very well for her. It has to be warm and wintry.

First, for the vintage picks, if there is one character among all listed here that can rock an old-school iconic fragrance, it is Seraphina. Chanel N°5 by Chanel was an obvious choice. The rose note, and the contradiction of the very clean effect of the aldehydes with the warm amber and sandalwood notes make it perfect for her. My other choice is Shalimar by Guerlain. Just like Chanel N°5, it’s the kind of fragrance that doesn’t work well on everyone, but when it does, it DOES. Shalimar is just the kind of warm and luxurious scent that would fit Seraphina.

More recent fragrances that I think would fit her are Oud Fleur by Tom Ford - the rose, oud wood and resins notes of it are just what I imagined for her -, and Santal Royal by Guerlain, more spicy, with some great sandalwood and oud wood notes.

Queenie Goldstein

When I think of Queenie I think of sweet spices like vanilla and cinnamon, powdery makeup and peaches. 

So for my vintage pick I thought of Mitsouko by Guerlain, which has exactly the peach and cinnamon notes I was looking for. It’s a bit more woody than I wanted but it works great for the time period.

And then I got L’Instant Magic by Guerlain, which actually does not have a peach note, but the powdery iris, almond and vanilla notes still fit. And the lovely note of anise at the opening sold me. Dolce Vita by Dior really correspond to want I wanted for Queenie, with notes of cinnamon, peach, vanilla, apricot and sandalwood with a nice powdery feel to it. I actually found the last one on this list by @headsindreams : Petite Chérie by Annick Goutal. It is more fresh and fruity than my other choices and doesn’t have the same powdery effect but it would work great as a spring fragrance for Queenie!

Jacob Kowalski

I didn’t want something too fancy for Jacob but I still needed to find something that reflects his optimism. I also remember him mentioning his grandmother’s orange zest paczkis so I wanted to include some orange or mandarin notes.

So for the vintage fragrances, I choose Chevalier d’Orsay by D’Orsay, a nice blend of citruses, herbs and spices like nutmeg and cinnamon, which I found interesting for a baker like him; and Bois de Cédrat by Creed, a simple clean blend of lemon, mandarin, cedarwood and ambergris.

 For the modern ones, I picked Bois d’Orange by Roger & Gallet, which is a pretty realistic rendition of orange trees, and Hadrien Absolu by Annick Goutal, a nice fresh fragrance with lovely notes of citron, bergamot and cypress

I already planned a follow up to this post. I have a few ideas for upcoming characters but I’m waiting for the next movie to be out first. So “part 3″ is likely to include the Maledictus witch, Leta Lestrange, Theseus and Dumbledore.

(part 1)

[activecarestore]

Passiflora is an Eau de Toilette which brings a sparkling hint of freshness to the everyday. Sunny and invigorating, Passiflora blends the flavour of a sun-soaked passion fruit with the smoothness of ylang-ylang flowers, in an aquatic freshness reminiscent of the crystalline waters of a lagoon.

Passiflora belongs to the Aqua Allegoria collection, the first collection of intensely fresh fragrances in perfumery created in 1999. On the strength of the Guerlain Perfumer's expertise dating back to the legendary Eau de Cologne Impériale in 1853, the Guerlain Perfumer creates each of the Aqua Allegoria with the freshness of a Cologne and the hold of a Guerlain perfume. The guiding thread of the collection is bergamot, a precious citrus fruit, “Calabrian green gold”, the key ingredient in the Guerlinade.

[magmaprofumi]

Ginger Piccante fa parte della famiglia Aqua Allegoria di Guerlain, la prima collezione di eau intensamente fraîche della profumeria creata nel 1999. Forte del savoir-faire Guerlain Parfumeur che risale alla leggendaria Eau de Cologne Impériale del 1853, il Parfumeur Guerlain crea ogni Aqua Allegoria con la freschezza di un’eau de cologne e la tenuta di un profumo Guerlain. Acquistalo comodamente a rate! #guerlain #gingerpiccante #aquaallegoria https://instagr.am/p/CKJFc0pApCZ/

[parfumery-wiki]

Pamplelune (eau de toilette) Aqua Allegoria Guerlain

Citrus

Pamplelune belongs to the Aqua Allegoria collection, the first collection of intensely fresh fragrances in perfumery created in 1999.

On the strength of the Guerlain Perfumer’s expertise dating back to the legendary Eau de Cologne Impériale in 1853, the Guerlain Perfumer creates each of the Aqua Allegoria with the freshness of a Cologne and the hold of a Guerlain perfume. The guiding thread of the collection is bergamot, a precious citrus fruit, “Calabrian green gold”, a key ingredient in the Guerlinade.

Pamplelune is a sparkling and sensual Eau de Toilette, a cheerful breeze over a radiant and tangy grapefruit.

Key notes: Bergamot, Grapefruit

[helshades]

Tip of the Nose : You Be For Men, My Scent

Does perfume really have a gender? Not remotely likely, says the purist, and don’t come telling me that virility smells like those pine-shaped car deodorant thingies. Everybody knows that real men smell of lavender.

This article is actually a rewrite of my response to this post, which my dying aging computer ate right before I thought about saving three hours worth of work. I’m not entirely sure what burning frustration and bitter regret are supposed to smell like, but if someone wishes to bottle it, they may as well name it Parfum de Hel.

On a side note, one of the participants to the earlier conversation had me blocked for some previous reason—probably unrelated to perfume discourse—so I could not reblog the initial post; nor am I willing, out of politeness, to simply caption the discussion. Therefore, here is the original post, and following is the segment I will more precisely address:

@thatiswhy:

Also, maybe I hate the mainstream cotton candy uwu line for women but don’t want to smell like a fucking frat house trying to deo away the smell of vomit on the carpet. You know what I want to smell like? White musk, and leather, and cedar, and sandalwood, and old parchment, and vetiver, and various teas, and juniper, and citrus, and cypress, and cashmere wood, and maybe in the summer like orange blossom and jasmine or fresia. These notes, while mostly present in women’s perfumes, usually are combined with overbearing fruity or flowery tones that make it smell like an aging late 17th century courtesan’s drawers, or “oriental” scents that make the whole thing reek like a 1920’s opium den. (Seriously, I have walked into a perfume shop, asked to be shown something fresh, woodsy and clean, and had Gabrielle shoved under my nose, which smells like rosewater-flavoured Turkish delight.)

Let women smell of non-jellybean scents, you cowards.

That being said, I have found all but two scents for men (to date) that don’t smell absolutely abrasive. (I’m suspecting the cheap synthetic ambergris.) 99.9% of the stuff directed at men smell as if I had one of those scrubbing metal wire thingies shoved up my throat. So no, I don’t want to shop at the men’s section, I want to be given the opportunity to find a scent that doesn’t say 80’s cartoon for girls and/or I read palms for a living.

There are many things to address in this fertile, if angry, intervention, and like often I’m starting by the end and by making a remark that has little to do with the subject at hand: I don’t think, my darling Tatty, that the ‘abrasive’ harbinger of olfactory doom you perceive in most ‘masculine’ fragrances would be synthetic ambergris, cheap or other. All ambergris today is synthetic, to begin with—well, not all, but natural ambergris is so terrifyingly expensive that we’ve got to forgive perfumers for furnishing us with only an approximation. Ambergris is extremely rare a substance; think around €10,000 per kilogram, in the lower estimation. Back in 2016, a nearly two-kilo block found by a man who was walking his dog on a Lancashire beach sold for £50,000… People have become millionaires over ambergris, although most of the time one only finds small quantities of it at once.

   Now this ambergris is a very curious substance, and so important as an article of commerce, that in 1791 a certain Nantucket-born Captain Coffin was examined at the bar of the English House of Commons on that subject. For at that time, and indeed until a comparatively late day, the precise origin of ambergris remained, like amber itself, a problem to the learned. Though the word ambergris is but the French compound for gray amber, yet the two substances are quite distinct. For amber, though at times found on the sea-coast, is also dug up in some far inland soils, whereas ambergris is never found except upon the sea. Besides, amber is a hard, transparent, brittle, odourless substance, used for mouth-pieces to pipes, for beads and ornaments; but ambergris is soft, waxy, and so highly fragrant and spicy, that it is largely used in perfumery, in pastiles, precious candles, hair-powders, and pomatum. The Turks use it in cooking, and also carry it to Mecca, for the same purpose that frankincense is carried to St. Peter’s in Rome. Some wine-merchants drop a few grains into claret, to flavour it.

  Who would think, then, that such fine ladies and gentlemen should regale themselves with an essence found in the inglorious bowels of a sick whale! Yet so it is.

— Herman Melville, Moby Dick (1922), chapter XCII, ‘Ambergris’.

In perfumery, ambergris is distilled into an alcohol-based solution known as ‘pure amber’ which, when exposed to air and sunlight, can be separated into several derivatives, notably terpenes and steroids. In fact, ambergris is mainly constituted from ambrein (25–45%) and epicoprosterol (30–40%). Ambrein is progressively degraded by sea water, sunlight and air into several compounds which are chiefly responsible for its smell, notably ambroxide and ambrinol. Modern perfumery uses ambroxide as a substitute for natural ambergris, which is easily synthesised from… a type of sage plant! To be exact, from sclareol, a fragrant chemical compound found in clary sage (Salvia sclarea). Sclareol kills cancer (yes.), and also it smells really good, with a sweet, balsamic scent very reminiscent indeed of the most important notes of natural ambergris.

Ambergris is essentially mucus naturally produced by certain sperm whales (it is believed that less than 5% of the species produces ambergris, possibly the largest of them, which prey on bigger animals) to protect their intestinal tract from lesions caused by the passing of sharp objects, chiefly undigested squid beaks: eventually, the whale excretes this soft, blackish, pungent concretion which is going to drift for a long while before landing on the shore, where it’ll spend maybe years drying out and hardening under the sun and the air. The colour lightens to a golden grey, and the smell gradually sweetens to a salty musk with whiffs of honey, tobacco and leather—depending on the block, the notes will vary in proportions and in potency.

Almost needless to say, then, that the number of perfumes using authentic ambergris isn’t especially high. Conversely, synthetic ambroxide is a beloved template of the modern perfumer’s palette, one of the reasons being that it helps stabilise scents very well. So popular, in fact, that specialists speak of 40% of the perfumes created in the last thirty years using it! Ambroxide was first synthesised in 1950, by Max Stoll for Geneva-based Firmenich SA. That means that Aimé Guerlain had to use natural ambergris when he created the masterpiece Jicky in 1889 (the oldest perfume in the world to be sold without interruption since its creation), even though Jicky was amongst the very first perfumes to use synthetic ingredients! Most notably, Jicky pioneered a great use of several synthetic molecules, chief of which vanillin, the synthetic vanilla which had been discovered in 1874 by German chemist Ferdinand Tiemann. (The first perfume using synthetic ingredient was Houbigant’s Fougère Royale in 1882, using coumarin, one of the key molecules of tonka beans.)

According to the legend of Jicky, it was composed by Aimé Guerlain (one of founder Pierre Guerlain’s two sons, and the second generation’s in-house perfumer, whilst Gabriel was the manager; then came Gabriel’s own sons, master perfumer Jacques and manager Pierre. The last family perfumer was Jacques’ grandson Jean-Paul, who retired heirless in 1994, after which the company was sold to soulless, tentacular multinational LVMH, much to the dismay of Guerlain aficionados all over the world) ... in memory of a broken heart he suffered in his youth as he came back to France after studying in England without his lady love, the lovely ‘Jicky’. Though mostly advertised to a female clientèle, Jicky shocked many a respectable woman of the time by its daring use of sensual animal musks (ambergris, musk, castoreum, and the devilishly sexual civet) at the heart of its balms, spices and aromatic flowers, most especially lavender, luxurious iris, sultry sandalwood and hot leather... Until the 1910s, when women’s press began recommending it, Jicky was quite the sensation amongst... English dandies... and Marcel Proust, of course. (In 1925, for the International Exhibition of Decorative Arts, Jacques Guerlain presented a twist on Jicky, in which he had removed lavender and woods but added bergamot and, especially, a massive dose of ethylvanillin [three times more potent than vanillin!]: Shalimar was born.)

Men and women used to wear the very same perfumes. Until the 19th century, really, the market wasn’t segmented and there was no such thing as a masculine scent. When the European courts started bathing again and heady perfumes fell out of fashion to the benefit of lighter, tarter, fresher fragrances modelled after the famous Eau de Cologne (1708), women wore them too. The French Jean-Marie Farina who became with his own Eau de Cologne (1809) the official perfumer of the imperial court furnished Empress Joséphine as well. It was for Empress Eugénie, wife of Napoleon III, that Pierre Guerlain created his 1853 Eau de Cologne impériale in the famous ‘bee bottle’ (with his 69 bees symbolising the Empire), which earned Guerlain the envied title of ‘Patented Perfumer of Her Majesty’.

The real difference in perfume usage that occurred during the 19th century was actually a matter of social marking via the use of perfumes of varied qualities, complexities and prestige: if perfume remained an element of luxury, now the aristocracy wasn’t alone in this privilege; moreover, clothes weren’t so elaborate and expensive anymore, and social differences were expressed in subtler ways than before the Revolution. In Paris, House Guerlain furnished a more aristocratic clientèle, whereas the upper-middle class went to Roger & Gallet (successors to Jean-Marie Farina), Lubin or L.T. Piver; meanwhile, middle-middle and lower-middle classes patroned Bourjois and Gellé Frères. The lower-middle class also went to ‘perfume bazaars’ that proposed the same products on sale, plus low-quality products.

The first respectable (only) concurrent to French perfumery was actually England, thanks to the well-earned reputation of its barbers, who created their own fragrances, at once discreet, elegant yet tenacious. Those were scents designed to be applied on the skin as tonics in the first place, after an expert shave, and as such they were based on aromatics, chiefly lavender, made from the essence of the delicate English variety: in the beginning 20th century, Frenchmen often wore Yardley’s 1873 English Lavender, precisely, and it was something of an ubiquitous odour in cosmetic products more specifically destined to men, such as soaps and creams.

It is no wonder, then, that when Ernest Daltroff created the first ever perfume only for men, judiciously titled Pour un homme, in 1934, for House Caron which he co-founded with his brother Raoul in 1904, the fragrance was based on lavender, tenderly joined in matrimony with sweet vanilla and lying on a respectable, tranquil base of an ambre accord (vanilla, benzoin, labdanum, the ‘oriental’ assembly created by genius François Coty in 1908 Ambre antique, the family namer of ambrés perfumes) sandalwood and musk. Legend has it that Ernest, who loved lavender, added the vanilla to please Ms. Félicie Wanpouille, Caron’s artistic counsellor, whom Ernest might have loved even more than lavender. She had joined Caron in 1906 and their collaboration produced some of the most beautiful perfumes of the time, and most original: in 1919, they created the first ever leather-scented perfume, Tabac Blond, in 1927, Ernest made En avion as a gift to Félicie’s friend the star aviatrix Hélène Boucher... They also invented the ‘loose powder’ technique in make-up.

Félicie never left, but Ernest did, along with Raoul, when the Nazis invaded France: the Daltroff brothers were the sons of Jewish Russian immigrants, after all. Since Caron exported a lot of products and had opened a shop on New York’s 5th Avenue, Ernest emigrated to the United States in 1939. He never came back, and died in Canada in 1941. But Félicie Wanpouille stayed, in spite of the Occupation, keeping Caron afloat; 1941 was also the year she got the genius idea, since she couldn’t pay the heavy taxes the Nazis imposed on Jewish-made goods, to rename Pour un homme into Pour une femme, a name which it kept until the war ended. To this day, Caron remains one of the very houses to be devoted entirely to perfume—and free of any multinational’s influence, for that matter. (They’ve not, alas! remained free from the clutch of Reformulation, but that is a story for another day.)

There are two very good reasons why Tabac Blond bears this name. The first was purely commercial: in 1919, women were beginning to smoke, but they smoked almost exclusively blond tobacco from Virginia, which was considered too feminine for men. The second was that blond tobacco exhales honeyed mossy notes which the perfume evoked tantalisingly alongside the darker leather, the cooler iris and the warmer amber, meaning that it was the perfect perfume to cover the smell of tobacco smoke. Two years later, Molinard released the wonderful Habanita, in a small bottle shaped like a cigarette lighter, as an oil to dab the tip of your cigarette so as to make women’s clouds suaver (it was released as a proper perfume in 1924, and long advertised as ‘the most tenacious perfume in the world!’, not without reason).

It wouldn’t be illogical to consider that if there are masculine scent in the first place, it’s probably because femininity went through some drastic changes from the late 19th century onwards, especially as a consequence of the two World Wars. The daring, tobacco-covering orientals which the flappers favoured were a direct reaction to the dreamy flower ideal of the previous decades, notably the artificial immobility of the Victorian woman and her continental equivalents, which the Roaring Twenties more or less exorcised with a call to adventure and independence. Women wore more perfume and more daring perfumes; it was only expected that men would start wearing perfume, real perfume again.

Something really odd happened in the 1980s, but maybe that, too, was to be expected: a kind of paradigm shift occurred in perfumery, as the laundry detergent companies which had become extremely rich and powerful thanks to the combined power of advertisement and mass consumption bought most of the perfume houses, perfume started imitating cosmetics more than the reverse. Once upon a time, the cosmetics industry would copy, or try to, the scents most popular in perfumery, like L’Oréal’s Elnett hairspray famously reprised Chanel’s  Nᵒ 5’ aldehyde overdose. Now, trendy perfume smells like shampoo or body spray.

It seems, nonetheless, like the ancestor of all terrible men’s perfumes that smell like body spray—the men’s version, the kind that makes you want to claw your own nose off—was the otherwise respectable Drakkar Noir by Guy Laroche (1982). So beloved by the public that every hygiene or cosmetic product targeted towards suddenly attempted to smell like it. Drakkar, however, was a good perfume, even if by today’s standards it would be perfectly unwearable for one’s entourage (in a vicinity of approximately 30 metres). ‘Powerhouse’ doesn’t begin to describe the type of scent that was popular in the late 80s and early 90s. And then they started using Calone™. Like, a lot of it. Have you ever smelled calone? Wait, you have. You’ve hated it. Calone in itself was a great chemical revolution: finally, the possibility for perfumers to imitate the very odour of water! Bring in the marine-like scents! Bring in the marine-like scents... I kinda want to throttle Calvin Klein for Escape (1991). Whatever you do, do not, I repeat, do not approach anything subtitled ‘Sport’. It’s worse. It’s way worse. (These days, calone is used to give a ‘watermelon’ aspect to everything, but chiefly summer flankers of denatured classic feminine perfumes. A hint: it smells like shampoo. Everything does.)

You can blame advertisement for convincing men to wear perfume on top of extremely pungent deodorant, too, but me personally, I strongly resent women who think classics are ‘too feminine’ and want to shop at the men’s section of their local perfume supermarket because it’s supposed to be ‘gender-defying’. It really isn’t. That’s not what equality is about, getting to smelling just as bad as the dudes, it isn’t. Even more importantly, perfume is not gendered; marketing is. Skin chemistry varies noticeably from person to person and our hormones do play some role in what we smell like, and therefore in what one perfume will smell like on different people, but apart from that, any sex-based olfactory discrimination is but a marketing ploy to exploit a segmented market so that the members of one household purchase and consume as many differentiated items as possible. Mainstream perfumery these days is mostly hopeless: the Thinking (wo)Man would be well inspired to turn to ‘niche’ perfumery, which isn’t always that confidential but presents the great advantage of being generally more creative and personal. Websites exist where people exchange ideas and samples and there is a whole alternative market for scents that allow people not to ruin themselves buying a full bottle of certain great fragrances. Overall, it is a nice way to get to wear something that feels like a personal choice.

[jeromemilet]

La beauté de Guerlain

 La beauté du flacon Guerlain

Le parfum n’est pas qu’une odeur. Le contenu, comme le contenant sont tout aussi important pour véhiculer le parfum, mais surtout, le ressenti du parfum. Marqueur de séduction, le parfum a besoin d’avoir un contenant qui soit autant valorisé que le contenu lui-même. Et le packaging est primordial, vous diront tous les spécialistes du marketing. Véritable objet d’art, le flacon de parfum était considéré autrefois comme un objet de luxe sans pareil qui témoignait de la qualité et du prestige d’un parfum. Bon nombre de fragrances en sont le témoin comme la mythique bouteille de Chanel n° 5 qui s’est vue consacrée une exposition à Paris en mai 2013. Pourtant Chanel n’est pas la seule maison dont les parfums sont des emblèmes de chic et de charme. On pense bien évidemment à Guerlain qui reste, encore aujourd’hui, un parfumeur mythique dont les fragrancess et flacons sont des must. On revient donc sur l’histoire du plus célèbre des flacons Guerlain : le flacon abeilles. Objet d’orfèvrerie et symbole de prestance, le flacon abeilles de Guerlain fait partie des de la noblesse de la maison de parfumerie pour son design étudié et sa minutie de premier ordre. Pierre-François-Pascal Guerlain a ouvert sa première boutique en 1828 Rue de Rivoli à Paris, dans laquelle il réalisait des parfums personnalisés pour chacune de ses clientes de marque avant de devenir une véritable référence quelques années plus tard. En 1840, c’est Rue de la Paix que le grand parfumeur réalise ses plus belles compositions, allant jusqu’à devenir le fournisseur officiel de la reine de Belgique. Il nous faudra cependant attendre 1853, pour voir naître sa plus belle consécration avec la mythique Eau de Cologne Impériale destinée à l’épouse de Napoléon III, l’Impératrice Eugénie. Cependant, le parfumeur souhaitait que sa création impériale soit à la hauteur de sa destinataire c’est la raison pour laquelle son flacon devait correspondre à la noblesse de l’Impératrice. Le flacon abeilles naît donc de cette recherche graphique via les ateliers Pochet de Courval, parfum Grasse maîtres en verrerie. Cette bouteille demeure aujourd’hui la marque du parfumeur.

[jokotten]

Guerlain Les Eaux Impériale Eau de Cologne 100 ml Preis : 74.96 € jetzt kaufen Artikelmerkmale Artikelzustand: Neu: Neuer, unbenutzter und unbeschädigter Artikel in nicht geöffneter Originalverpackung (soweit eine …