Printer Friendly

These perfumes are anything but demure.

NYT Syndicate This fall, the new class of perfumes are mostly floral, mostly strong and not at all dainty. Tuberose, an intoxicating white flower that had its heyday in the 1940s in Robert Piguet's Fracas, is back in a big way. Boozy and giddy, it smells like being drunk underneath a disco ball. While some perfumers chose a more delicate sensuality, lustiness is all over the season's new bottles. These scents are baroque and voluptuous. Perfume as ornament has returned. Gucci Bloom Gucci's runway collections under the creative director Alessandro Michele have been maximalist explosions: satin everywhere, giant logos, bearlike fur coats, eight prints tossed together like Funfetti sprinkles. Bloom, the first perfume released under Michele's hand, is an unapologetic tuberose and honeysuckle bomb that smells like being trapped inside a hothouse. This is a hypnotic floral that whispers of a headier time, of light-up floors and velvet jumpsuits, sateen glamour and 1980s power shoulders. It is a mishmash of perfumes past, smelling at once like the superflorals of the 1920s and the drunken heavies of the 1970s. It is a remix and a party, and it feels exactly like Michele's new reign, which is to say: perfume as playground, perfume as high meeting low, perfume as stomping in sequins. Twilly d'Herm'e8s Twilly d'Herm'e8s is the first scent from the venerable fashion house to fling itself directly at the heart of the millennial market, and without apology. It made the juice dusty pink (Gen Z's beige), tied a teeny tiny Herm'e8s scarf around its neck, and topped it with a lacquered miniature bowler hat. The squat, square bottle is a homage to early Parisian carriage house lanterns, because if young people love one thing more than a blush colour, it is French equestrian history! This twee presentation is destined for Instagram, the idea of perfume as a behatted little friend with a jaunty name that might wink at you from your vanity while you sleep. The fragrance was designed as millennial catnip, using just three notes " sandalwood, ginger and tuberose " to represent the tightknit packs of 20 somethings who cavort around Paris. The three notes huddle together thick as thieves in the bottle, following a linear progression: First comes a swoon of flowers, followed by a ginger snap, and then it all dries down to creamy comfort. The result is a spicy artisanal cocktail, a dark and stormy with a rose petal float. It's a very pretty scent, and it is memorable, but it also smells a bit like millennial pink tossed into a blender " universally flattering but also ubiquitous, a pop of daring colour that is deceptively safe. Tiffany & Co Tiffany In 1889, a jeweller named Paulding Farnham, who had come to Tiffany & Co as a wunderkind at 16, won the grand prize at the Exposition Universelle in Paris for his collection of pearl-encrusted orchid brooches. His victory put Tiffany on the international jewellery map, but it also raised the stakes: He had to come back swinging in 1900 to prove that Tiffany wasn't a one-hit American wonder. So he did what any jeweller looking to make a splash at a world's fair in the Gilded Age might: He made a bedazzled iris corsage the size of an actual iris, with a golden stem and dozens of Montana sapphires and demantoid garnets for the bud. It not only won, it also became an artefact and now sits in the Walters Art Museum in Baltimore. For its new signature scent, Tiffany dipped back into its history of winning with irises. There is orris butter laced throughout the juice (which, being a Tiffany item, is a faint shade of robin's egg blue), as well as a gleaming mandarin frosting and a quiet base of minty patchouli. Iris can smell like old lipstick in perfumery, with a hint of Miss Havisham atrophy. But here, it presents as powdery, expensive and yielding. There is a bit of that oversize iris brooch left in its DNA; it is intended to impress, to enchant, to leave one feeling gilded. Chanel Gabriell Gabrielle is Chanel's first original new scent in 15 years. It is also a debut of sorts for the perfumery scion Olivier Polge, who took over for his father, Jacques, as the house's resident nose in 2013. The younger Polge, who was raised in Grasse, France, with enfleurage in his veins, swanned into the Chanel fold having already formulated several blockbusters. He was responsible for Paco Rabanne Invictus, Viktor & Rolf Flowerbomb and the Lanc'f4me cotton-candy megahit, La Vie et Belle. Last year, Polge tweaked Chanel No 5 to create No 5 L'Eau, a spin on the classic formula that replaced some of the dank musk with a bright shellac of citrus. This fall, he officially signed his name to an original Chanel concoction, Gabrielle, which is named for the matriarch tailor of the brand and is what the house deems a"solar" fragrance, intended for all-day wear. A collage of white florals including ylang-ylang, tuberose, jasmine and orange blossom, it is designed to diffuse on the skin, shimmering away from the wrist like heat on a pavement. There is an undeniable elegance to it, but it is so delicate that after a few hours the scent is no more than a whisper, a gossamer reminder of a more glamorous morning. Byredo Velvet Haze The company that became Avon began in 1892 as the California Perfume Co (headquarters in New York City), with the idea that invoking the Western frontier and its fields of wildflowers might help push creams and powders. Now, the Byredo founder Ben Gorham, who grew up in Sweden, Toronto and New York, has become the latest entrepreneur to find inspiration along the Pacific. His Velvet Haze is meant to channel the countercultural music moment of the 1960s as well as the more contemporary dewy dancing youths camped out at Coachella. It contains coconut water and hibiscus, making it smell not unlike a Los Angeles smoothie bar, and it closes with a lactic murmur of cacao, which leaves the collarbone smelling like a berry dipped in chocolate. This is the sort of scent that works best after dark, perhaps as one walks along a California beach, with the heartbeat sound of bass thumping somewhere in the distance. Jason Wu Clean, clean, clean. Whereas many of the fall perfumes smell like tipsy opulence " or vulgarity, depending on your take " Jason Wu swerved in a different direction for his first scent. Though the main note is an essence of jasmine sambac that Wu remembers from his childhood in Taiwan, the scent is as cool as slices of cucumber laid on the eyelids. There is a lightness to the perfume, but also a sense of humour. At times, it smells like Dr Brown's Cel-Ray soda; at others, it gives off sweet puffs of peony. This is perfume as understatement, everything tailored just so, but never fussy or high maintenance. It's a slouchy sweater that always fits, though its casual, perfect drape is more complex than meets the eye.

[c] Copyright Qatar Tribune. All Rights Reserved. Provided by SyndiGate Media Inc. ( ).
COPYRIGHT 2017 SyndiGate Media Inc.
No portion of this article can be reproduced without the express written permission from the copyright holder.
Copyright 2017 Gale, Cengage Learning. All rights reserved.

Article Details
Printer friendly Cite/link Email Feedback
Publication:Qatar Tribune (Doha, Qatar)
Date:Oct 9, 2017
Previous Article:Indonesian envoy hosts Asian Ambassadors' Dinner.
Next Article:Chris Hemsworth incredible to work with: Cate Blanchett.

Terms of use | Privacy policy | Copyright © 2018 Farlex, Inc. | Feedback | For webmasters