editions de parfums frederic malle – This Side of Perfume

Carnal Flower by Dominique Ropion for Frédéric Malle

August 21, 2019

Notes: eucalyptus, tuberose, orange blossom, melon, coconut, jasmine, ylang-ylang, bergamot, and musk.

I ordered a decant of Carnal Flower this past January. I had come to terms with Portrait of a Lady, and I decided it was time to get acquainted with the other grand dame floral of Monsieur Malle’s collection. I don’t know what possessed me to try and wear a huge white floral during one of our coldest winters ever, but that’s what I did. Reader, it did not go well. I found Carnal Flower strange. Unappealing, even. The eucalyptus was sharp and unpleasant. The composition never seemed to settle into my skin in the cold weather. I couldn’t understand the popularity of this fragrance at all. I just didn’t get it.

In terms of tuberose scents, I’ve been wearing Diptyque’s Do Son EDT. It’s light, ethereal and very pretty. It gets along with my skin chemistry in both cold and warm weather. A little voice in the back of my mind told me to save the rest of my Carnal Flower decant for the summer. Lately, when I have the urge to wear Do Son, I instead spritz on some Carnal Flower and it’s working much, much better. The eucalyptus and bergamot are present, but are not so unpleasantly sharp. In the humidity, both notes bring a welcome green presence.

Carnal Flower is not a huge white floral on me at first spritz. The tuberose takes its time to develop. It comes into full bloom about an hour into wear time, which is when it really seems to settle and meld with my skin. It’s not as lovely or ethereal as Do Son. The tuberose of Carnal Flower has more of a texture to it, more substance. Dominique Ropion apparently added a huge dose of tuberose absolute to the composition, which doesn’t surprise me. The white floral here isn’t dirty to my nose. The sensual or carnal aspect here comes from the tuberose melding with the skin. It’s a wholly sensory experience. The tuberose texture smells and feels so substantial, it’s as though you could reach out and touch the flower petals.

I was a bit wary of the coconut in this composition. Coconut is a trendy ingredient and note these days. (Although it wasn’t when Carnal Flower was first launched in 2005.) It feels like coconut is in every new fragrance release and it’s just too sunscreen-y for me. However, I think it’s a nice supporting player here. It works well in the transition from full bloom heart notes to the dry down. The ylang-ylang also becomes noticeable, bringing a creamy yellow custard vibe, which blends well with the milky coconut.

I was also wary of the white musk base, which is a favorite of Ropion’s. It just doesn’t always play nicely with my skin, and I suspect it’s a big reason Carnal Flower didn’t work for me in cold weather. My skin chemistry and my nose are much more receptive to this dry down in warm, humid weather. I personally prefer a dry, cedar-like base, but I understand that that type of base wouldn’t suit this composition. The creamy, delicious tuberose heart note is my favorite part of this composition, but I recognize that the musk base works in harmony with the rest of Carnal Flower’s structure.

I have yet to add a bottle from Frédéric Malle’s oeuvre to my collection. I’m glad that he has added travel sprays. If I were to add a Malle, it would be either Superstitious or the lovely Eau de Magnolia, which I feel is underrated. I don’t feel the need to splurge for Carnal Flower. Perhaps I would if I lived in Miami or a climate where it would suit the mood year round, but it doesn’t make sense for me currently. The good thing is that I feel I understand Carnal Flower better now. I’m glad that I ordered a decant of this so that I could save it and give it some serious summer wear testing.

Has a similar thing ever happened to any of you? Do you tend to change your opinion as you test a fragrance, or does your first impression usually remain unchanged?

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I ordered my decant from The Perfumed Court. Nothing in this post is gifted or sponsored.

The list of notes is via Fragrantica.

The image is one of Monet’s Nymphéas. This particular work belongs to LACMA Collections. Apparently, it’s not currently on public view, but the image has been made available to the public via LACMA’s website.

“Superstitious” Alber Elbaz par Frederic Malle

July 14, 2017

superstitious

Notes: jasmine, rose, peach, amber, incense, vetiver, patchouli, and aldehydes.

I was very excited for this newest edition curated by Monsieur Frederic Malle. It seems that this one is a similar idea to the Dries Van Noten collaboration from 2014. I loved Alber Elbaz’s work for Lanvin (and I would love for him to take over at Chanel but Uncle Karl seemingly will never leave us). However, I was wary when I read about the aldehydes in the fragrance. Make no mistake, Fragrantica might list aldehydes last in the notes for Superstitious, but this fragrance is all about the aldehydes. They are present from start to finish. And, dare I say it? This might be the scent that finally inspires me to love aldehydes and the way they show up on my skin.

I’ve noticed quite a few commenters on Fragrantica mentioning that the aldehydes in Superstitious have a clean laundry feel. This is not quite the case for me. The aldehydes definitely have a clean feel, but it’s more crisp and cool, not laundry soft. I find that there’s a biting edge to the opening here. It’s not a sharp citrus note, nor is it refreshing. It’s metallic without coming across as too harsh or chemical. This gives Superstitious a modern feel right away. It’s almost as if the fragrance is winking at you (like that eye on the bottle) saying this could be a vintage fragrance in the style of a classic Lanvin, but those modern aldehydes jump out at you, saying otherwise. I notice the jasmine appearing in the opening as well, white and luminous, to soften the aldehydes just a touch. This is possibly one of the most difficult openings I’ve ever tried to describe, as it’s very abstract. And I get the feeling that the abstraction was done very much on purpose.

Something else I’ve noticed from the comments on Fragrantica is the endless comparisons to the Grande Dame of the Frederic Malle collection, Portrait of a Lady. It’s inevitable, given the fact that Dominique Ropion composed both scents, and the similar rose and patchouli notes. (Although I have to be honest, the rose is undetectable to me here). Some people don’t feel Superstitious is really different enough to stand apart from Portrait of a Lady, and the rich patchouli in the heart admittedly is extremely similar. If Portrait of a Lady is your all-time signature scent, I understand that you might not get much out of Superstitious. Portrait of a Lady is an ode to a classic novel and is a beautiful expression of perfumery. Superstitious, on the other hand, is kind of an oddity. It’s like an ode to classic perfumery with a pastiche of modern elements mixed in.

If the opening was difficult to describe, the base is where things really get mixed up. The patchouli of the heart notes makes Superstitious a gorgeous warm and rich fragrance and, again, it’s almost in the vein of a delicious vintage Lanvin scent. The incense note starts to come in towards the base. It blends with the patchouli and weaves in and out, disappearing and reappearing again. It’s very seductive. There is something else noticeable too, and here is where I will link kafkaesque’s write-up of Superstitious because it’s a great piece of writing and because reading this helped me figure out the base notes here. When first testing Superstitious, I detected something screechy and chemical in the dry down. I wondered if it was the aldehydes turning on me, but this note is not the dry, crisp metallic edge of the opening. As kafka explains, it’s Ropion’s white musk making an appearance in the base. I’ve had similar experiences with white musk in other compositions, hence its status as one of my least favorite base materials. Fortunately, there is so much going on in this composition that the white musk doesn’t derail the whole fragrance for me.

Overall, Superstitious is a gorgeous, inventive, and sometimes puzzling perfume. It’s absolutely worth testing. Whether it’s worth purchasing is another question. The 100 ml bottle of Superstitious is up to $370. I would love to own this bottle with the chic design by Alber Elbaz, but it would be pretty hard for me to justify at this price point. There is always the travel spray, but even that is expensive for a small amount. Undina and I have talked about this in the comments on other posts, but it really is such a shame that niche price points keep rising higher and higher with no end in sight. Putting aside the idea of “exclusivity,” I’m afraid some of these brands will price themselves out of being relevant. I love Superstitious in all its abstract strangeness. But when you think about the price point, it’s very difficult.

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Les Editions de Parfums Frederic Malle are available in the US from Barneys and Nordstrom. You can also purchase directly from Frederic Malle. I purchased a sample of Superstitious from Surrender to Chance. I plan to finish up my sample and purchase a decant. I won’t have the chic bottle design, but it’s the more reasonable option.

Both the image and info on notes are from Fragrantica.

Editions de Parfums Frederic Malle: Portrait of a Lady

November 1, 2016

Notes: clove, cinnamon, rose, blackcurrant, raspberry, sandalwood, patchouli, incense, musk, amber, and benzoin.

Is it possible to be intimidated by a perfume? Or, should I say, is it silly to be intimidated by a perfume? Because Portrait of a Lady is one of those iconic fragrances that I’ve seen people mentioning even from the very beginning of my perfume journey. Everyone seems to have their own experience with it. Then, too, I have my own feelings about this perfume’s namesake, the novel by Henry James. I love Isabel Archer but find the novel’s last third and the ending so emotional (don’t marry Gilbert, Isabel!) that I have never re-read it. What experiences and associations could I bring to this classic scent? And what would Portrait of a Lady make of me?

Created by Dominique Ropion, Portrait of a Lady is a spicy rose patchouli scent. I swear there is a bit of pepper in the opening here even though it’s not listed. I get the spices right away with the cloves being the most dominant. The rose is there from the beginning of course, but this fragrance doesn’t hit you over the head with the rose note. It doesn’t need to. It’s as though the rose and the spices are tightly entwined and are slowly unspooling. The clove gradually gives way to a sweeter cinnamon spice, while the rose blends with the fruit, becoming jammy and full-bodied.

Patchouli is listed in the heart notes for this composition, and for good reason. It’s definitely a central focus so that’s something to be aware of if you’re not a patchouli fan. I detect a touch of oud as well, but it’s not listed in the notes. The patchouli is earthy but elegant. It’s not camphorous to my nose. It’s rich but dry. The patchouli here is actually what makes me think of Isabel Archer. The dry element that peeks out from time to time underneath the rich earthiness is elegant and enigmatic at the same time. It’s like a woman holding her head high and walking through a crowded party as everyone pretends not to stare after her.

The rose reappears alongside the patchouli and this time it’s a little bit more sweet, and a little bit more dry as well. The rose even turns a little powdery on me as the composition heads into the dry down, but not unpleasantly so. In fact, there is no stage or moment where Portrait of a Lady is unappealing at all. I haven’t been the biggest rose or patchouli fan, but Dominique Ropion pitches this composition just right in that it’s always balanced and it’s always interesting. Not easy to do.

Unfortunately, the one con has to be mentioned and that is that Monsieur Malle’s Editions do not come cheaply. The quality is there with Portrait of a Lady. The projection and the staying power are top-notch. I happened to be wearing this one night while watching Netflix on the couch and now my couch cushions seem to permanently smell like Portrait of a Lady – I’m not complaining! This scent really stays on both skin and on fabric. It’s a beautiful fragrance, and capturing both beauty and that frisson of something interesting isn’t always an easy thing to do. Still, at Frederic Malle price points, much like Isabel Archer, you need to be certain before making a commitment.

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In the US, the Editions de Frederic Malle are available from Barney’s. Samples and decants are available from The Perfumed Court and from Surrender to Chance, which is where I got my sample.

Both the image and the info on notes are from Fragrantica.

Editions de Parfums Frederic Malle: En Passant

June 25, 2014

Notes: lilac, cucumber, wheat, watery notes, and petitgrain.

In continuing my exploration of florals for this spring and summer, I had a hunch that En Passant would be a perfect kind of gentle (but still interesting) floral for me to try. I was a little bit surprised when I first sampled En Passant because the opening is gorgeous, but not exactly gentle. Rather, it is a headlong plunge into a garden right in the midst of blooming lilac bushes. Olivia Giacobetti’s creation for Frederic Malle’s curated line is the most startlingly realistic floral that I’ve come across.

En Passant could work beautifully as just a linear soliflore, but Ms. Giacobetti has added in a few other notes to spark some interest. I was a little wary of possible weird ozonic notes from the watery accord, but fortunately that isn’t the case. The cucumber helps to keep the composition cool and lush, so that the watery notes here give off a herbaceous feel, conjuring up the image of fresh rain drops sitting on green leaves.

A piercing hint of mint also develops on my skin even though I don’t see it listed in the notes. It could just be my skin chemistry, perhaps the cucumber playing tricks on me. Whatever it is, it’s entirely welcome, as it keeps the composition fresh and makes En Passant excellent to wear during hot and humid summer days.

Despite the watery influence, I don’t think of En Passant as a sheer fragrance. The realism of the lilac note lends a tangibility to the composition. There is also the wheat note, which becomes apparent a couple of hours into wear time, and is the reason why I wouldn’t say this is a completely linear affair. The wheat gives off a sort of doughy, baking bread effect.

The dry down here with the fading floral and herbaceous notes, plus the light baking bread influence, reminds me of a boulangerie/patisserie in Paris that I used to pass by (and often stopped in!) on my way to the Luxembourg gardens. I suppose that’s the whole point of this fragrance and its title, it is truly en passant.

En Passant and other Editions de Parfums Frederic Malle can be found at Barney’s. I got my sample from The Perfumed Court.

image and info about fragrance notes are from fragrantica.

Editions de Parfums Frederic Malle; Noir Epices

April 22, 2012

Notes: orange, rose, geranium, nutmeg, cinnamon, clove, sandalwood, patchouli, pepper

Given my penchant for spicy fragrances, I couldn’t avoid sampling one with the name Noir Epices. But Michel Roudnitska’s composition for Frederic Malle is a tricky one for me personally to parse. While it’s true that I do love spice, Noir Epices is not a boldly spicy Serge Lutens-style creation. Rather, Noir Epices is subtle, dry, and takes its own time to reveal its layers. The really tricky aspect of Noir Epices for me is the rose. Quite frankly, rose usually smells strange on my skin. I enjoy when other people wear rose-centered fragrances but, for some reason, it just doesn’t speak to me. However, the soft dryness of Noir Epices really pays off, and the rose and geranium notes work for me in this case. Perhaps the orange in the opening helps, adding a spritz of zest to the floral accord.

As I wear this, the rose dies down and gives me the impression of dried crushed rose petals, rather than a living blooming flower. This is where the spice really starts to come into play. I detect clove and some light playful pepper, but I don’t get a sense of the cinnamon or nutmeg. There’s nothing to tip Noir Epices into gourmand territory, and no base of vanilla. In fact, there’s nothing remotely sweet about this fragrance, which is fairly atypical for spicy scents.

I almost hesitate to say this, but I can’t think to describe it any other way: Noir Epices smells soapy to me. I mean that in a good way. This would be the best possible soap. It’s odd, but there’s something about the dry florals and subtle spice here that reads as ‘clean’ to me. This is an intimate scent to be sure, but it’s not dirty or skanky. Maybe I get the soapy sensation simply because the overall effect of Noir Epices is pleasant, without ever becoming overwhelming or overbearing.

Noir Epices is lovely, and it has certainly challenged me. And yet, I don’t feel compelled to get a full bottle of this one. My sample isn’t quite empty, so I’m going to save it and check back in with it in a couple of months. Let’s be honest, this is a Frederic Malle, there is nothing to criticize here. I suppose I’m still uncertain if Noir Epices is really for me.

Editions de Parfums Frederic Malle; Noir Epices: $175 for 50 ml // $255 for 100 ml. Full bottles available from Barney’s. I got my sample from The Perfumed Court.

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