Parfums MDCI; Invasion Barbare

Notes: Grapefruit, bergamot, violet leaves, white thyme, cardamom, lavender, ginger, cedarwood, vanilla and musk

When I saw reviewers at Luckyscent and Basenotes comparing Invasion Barbare to Jicky, I marked it immediately as something to try. And it’s true, the sharp citrus opening here definitely recalls the famous Guerlain fragrance. I actually wish the spicy/astringent opening notes lasted longer. It’s an intoxicating blend of citrus notes with ginger and cardamom. But within a few minutes, Invasion Barbare transforms into a smooth blend of lavender, cedar and vanilla. Seriously, I cannot emphasize enough how smooth this composition is. I would drink it if I could.

But the really striking thing about this scent for me is the texture. If a perfume can feel like something, this one is like crushed velvet. This is a soft, somewhat sheer fragrance that wears close to the skin. But don’t worry, it’s definitely persistent. The lavender note lingers long into wear time, adding a little kick to the cedar & vanilla.  Invasion Barbare has a confidence about it, a quiet resolve. The Napoleonic bust on the bottle is no accident. This is the fragrance to wear while sitting on a velvet throne, surveying your empire.

Parfums MDCI pushes Invasion Barbare as a masculine scent and, while I can see why they would (that dry lavender and cedar), I love wearing it for myself. Gendered fragrance is kind of a silly idea to me anyway. It really comes down to skin chemistry and personal taste, not marketing, right? Regardless, I see Invasion Barbare as perfectly wearable for a woman.

Parfums MDCI is a pricey brand, there’s no getting around it. The bottles with the resin busts go as high as $600. Clearly these perfumes are not something you would impulse-buy. Knowing this, Parfums MDCI offers a sampling program on their website. It’s noteworthy that their sample bottles are 12 ml, allowing for plenty of opportunities to test each fragrance. Luckyscent also offers a sample package of eight of Parfums MDCI’s offerings.

Invasion Barbare is a gorgeous, regal scent. It’s something that’s definitely worth experiencing. I can’t say I’m ready to shell out for the big fancy bottle myself just yet, but I’ll definitely be ordering another sample to keep on hand. You know, just in case I need to smell nice while sitting on my throne.

Invasion Barbare: $250 for 60 ml //$375 for the resin bust edition

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Let’s Talk Chanel!

This won’t come across as at all original or unique, but it’s the truth: I have an obsession with all things Chanel. From the glamorous Grande Dame herself, to the storied history of the house, to the quilted leather handbags, to Karl Lagerfeld’s eccentricities, I just can’t get enough. With one exception: Chanel’s fragrances.

Possibly the most famous fragrance of all time, Chanel No. 5, just does not work for me. And I feel strangely guilty about it! Every time I’m out shopping at Sephora or Nordstrom, I feel compelled to try a spritz. It will be different this time! I convince myself. But I only ever end up with the same result: the scent of stale baby powder. I have no problem with powdery scents, and I don’t mind smelling a little ‘old lady’ either (I know some cool older ladies). The fact is, No. 5 just doesn’t smell *right* on me.

I’ve gotten similar results from Coco Mademoiselle  and No. 19. The only mainstream Chanel fragrance that semi-works for me is Allure and even that isn’t a *love it* experience for me.

Enter: Les Exclusifs de Chanel. It took me an embarrassingly long time to discover Chanel’s Exclusifs line and I’ve only begun exploring it in earnest in the past several months. Based on my own scent preferences, I singled out Sycomore as my first Exclusifs sample.

Notes: vetiver, sandalwood, cypress, juniper, pink pepper.

Considering the name, it’s no surprise that Sycomore is all about doing an elegant woody fragrance. Vetiver is definitely the star of the show, evoking roots and forest undergrowth. There’s a considerable amount of dry smokiness here too.  The entire effect is delicate, not dirty. It reminds me of a piece of bark peeling off a tree trunk.

It also has fabulous staying power on me. I recently wore it to my favorite French restaurant, which is a small affair with an open kitchen. I fully expected Sycomore to be obliterated by the cooking smells, but I was happy to note that it was still going strong on my wrist at the end of the night.

So, Sycomore is the first Chanel I’ve really fallen for. I’m currently experimenting with Cuir de Russie, and I have Coromandel and Bois des Iles on my to-try list. I’m hoping that Chanel fragrances & I can finally start getting along.

What are your experiences with Chanel? I’d love to hear from people who really enjoy No. 5, how does it work for you?

Sycomore: $110 for 2.5 fl. oz. // $210 for 6.8 fl. oz. available online from Chanel. I ordered my sample from The Perfumed Court.

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Miller Harris; L’Air de Rien

Notes: French oak moss, Tunisian neroli, sweet musk, amber and vanilla

I initially approached L’Air de Rien with some trepidation. Lyn Harris created this fragrance specifically for Jane Birkin, and I feared I could never live up to Birkin’s inherent, effortless cool. And then there’s the fact that Luca Turin has referred to L’Air as ‘one of the filthiest fragrances of all time’  in Perfumes: the A-Z Guide. Well. After reading that, how could I not try it? If only to see what all the fuss is about.

Imagine my surprise then, when I first sampled L’Air de Rien and discovered that it goes on as smooth as ever. I was reminded of Parfumerie Generale’s Cadjmere, in that the texture here is soft and enveloping. In the beginning, I get sweet hay and powdered sugar. It’s pleasant and extremely wearable. Confused, I double checked my sample. Surely I had dabbed on something else by mistake! This lovely creation couldn’t possibly be the famous skank-monster, could it?

Ah, but the beginning is not everything! L’Air de Rien works sort of in reverse on my skin, in that it begins in a muted fashion, but warms up after a couple hours of wear. This is when the oakmoss and musk really blend together to work their magic. The mustiness of an old library peeks through, along with something a little bit sweaty. I was expecting something animalic, like the civet in Jicky, but that’s not what’s happens here. No, this fragrance isn’t animalic to me, it’s human. L’Air gives me the sensation of smelling perfume on someone else’s skin. It’s positively unnerving, yet I can’t stop sniffing my wrist.

L’Air de Rien never reaches ‘filthiest fragrance ever’ heights on me, but it does feel somehow indecent. It exudes such a strong sense of intimacy. I feel like I’m peering into someone else’s life: wandering through their slightly decayed house, wiping the dust off of bookshelves, opening long-since locked doors, trying on a favorite perfume. If it’s possible to have a voyeuristic perfume, this is it.

And then there’s the name to consider: L’Air de Rien or the air of nothing. Surely un petit jeu by Lyn Harris, since this scent conjures up a flood of images. However, it is true that most of the associations L’Air evokes are more to do with memories or abstractions than any concrete object. But really, the sense of old memories only makes this fragrance more compelling. L’Air is utterly unmissable, just for the experience of it. The question is: is this really something I want to smell like everyday? No. But I’ll be saving my L’Air de Rien sample for those moments when I’m feeling pensive, and am ready once again to explore the story told by this strange perfume.

And if you’d like to read more about L’Air de Rien, Gaia of The Non-Blonde has an excellent write-up here.

L’Air de Rien: $160 for 100 ml; samples and full bottles are available from Luckyscent. If you live in the UK you’ll probably have an easier time hunting down a bottle in person than those of us in the US.

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