CREED Jasmin Imperatrice Eugenie

The original formula for Jasmin Imperatrice Eugenie (JIE) was created in 1862 for Empress Eugenie of France. I find this fascinating. When I’m wearing JIE I smell similar to Empress Eugenie over 147 years ago. What an odd feeling this is – to smell like, well, history. You might wonder if JIE smells dated and old fashioned, considering it’s age. Maybe a little, but all things considered, there’s a reason why it’s a classic and still around today, it’s quite excellent.

The monarchy dissolved after the reign of Napoleon III so Eugenie was the last empress of France. She is noted for her beauty and elegance and was quite a fashion icon during her time. This seems so trivial to me, that Empress Eugenie was a fashion icon. Surely she could have accomplished something more noble, but alas, perhaps it was not permissible for a woman to do much more than be a beautifully dressed thing in the 19th century.

Jasmin Imperatrice Eugenie is a decadent sillage monster with potency to spare. I love that about it. I’m not particularly fond of jasmine so it took me many years to get around to trying JIE. Once I did I found that the fragrance is not so much about jasmine at all, but instead a classic oriental with a divine ambergris and sandalwood base. JIE begins with the a powerful triumvirate of bergamot, jasmine and rose. The first 15 minutes or so might seem suffocating, like you’ve entered a dark wood paneled room from the 19th century whose windows and doors have been shut for years and the air is thick with the aroma of heavy dusty drapery.

After the initial overwhelming entrance, JIE becomes much more accomodating to the modern nose, albeit taking it’s time in doing so. You must remember that JIE was created in a time before the automobile, when plumbing was a luxury for only the wealthy and electricity was a figment of the imagination. So please bear with JIE, she’s from a different time and place, she’s ostentatious and regal and she’s and well worth your time.

The most pleasant surprise for me is that JIE is actually a sublime sandalwood and ambergris fragrance with jasmine used only as a garnish. This is the most beautiful rendition of creamy sandalwood and ambergris that I’ve ever smelled. There is also a hefty dollop of vanilla in the base – giving JIE an almost gourmand quality. For comparison sake, there’s some similarity between JIE and Chanel’s Bois de Iles, however, BdI is stark, minimalist and barebones compared with the opulence of JIE.

At a time when Guerlain’s upcoming launch includes the note “marshmallow harmony” and every tacky celebrity is slapping her name on a perfume bottle, Creed’s Jasmin Imperatrice Eugenie seems most welcome. Just don’t overdo it, JIE is beautiful when applied with a light hand, suffocating when overapplied. I can’t underscore how important it is not to overapply JIE. Two discrete sprays are plenty.

L'Heure Attendue

During a recent visit to The Perfume House in Portland, I surveyed what was left of their vintage stock of Jean Patou, five or six bottles of varying sizes and concentrations. The instant favorite was Divine Folie, a carnation- and clove-laden attention grabber. Adieu Sagesse was, for me, a pretty variation on L'Heure Bleu. L'Heure Attendue was a nice, slightly aldehydic melange of florals complicated by woods, faint spices and patchouli. Testers for all three, along with Amour Amour and Chaldee, sat out on the counter as I browsed the store's inventory, and when I came back to them, the distorted top notes had tapered off, and I was surprised to find how much I liked L'Heure Attendue.

I didn't smell it again until this Monday, a week later, when it arrived in the mail. The bottle is gorgeous, with a blue glass berry-cluster stopper. It comes wrapped in a geometrically patterned silk scarf, and once I got the stubborn stopper out (without breaking it, whew), some of the juice spilled on the fabric, more of which later. I dabbed some on my arm--along with about four or five other things which had been shipped with it--and went about my business, and an hour later, something kept catching my attention. It took me a while to figure out that this wondrous thing on my skin was in fact L'Heure Attendue, which had smelled nice enough earlier but now seemed to have morphed into something beyond words. You hear a lot of talk about development in perfume, but I rarely see anything that strays so very far from where it starts. That's not to say L'Heure Attendue goes off on improbable tangents. It's just that I didn't pay so much attention to it until it settled into what is clearly its general state of affairs, a langorously spiced floral with enough wood tone to it that it seems a little more modern than you're at first apt to assume.

There's lily-of-the valley in this 1946 Henri Almeiras fragrance, created to commemorate the liberation of France. I don't know that I detect it exactly. I can't actually discern any of Attendue's individual notes: geranium, lilac, ylang ylang, jasmine, rose, opoponax. I do smell some of the mysore sandalwood, and in some weird way Attendue reminds me a bit of Chanel's Bois des Iles. It also reminds me of another beautiful aldehyde, Ferre de Ferre, the incensed violets of which conjure the image of a chic headshop, where fur-draped, perfumed society women slum among glass pipes and velvet, black light posters. Attendue has that curious incense quality to it, though the floral accords are not as specific. Lush Karma shares this head shop quality; a more contemporary composition, it replaces the florals with a citrus influence. Nothing really prepared me for how lovely L'Heure Attendue is, but I'm glad I grabbed a bottle; judging by its scarcity, I seem to be one of the few who didn't seem to know the fragrance was worth having. About that scarf: Its aroma has persisted all week, and the scent on fabric is even more divine, where it plays out in stop motion.

She Said, He Said: behind the scenes memos between your I Smell Therefore I Am editorial staff

Hey Brian,

...disappointing perfume day. I bought a bunch of perfumes from parfum1.com - they have amazingly good deals. I bought everything unsniffed, but for the price, no biggie.

1. Habanita - gagging from the powder - I thought I would love this - but the baby powder is too much - I can't get through it to the tobacco or leather.

2. Casmir by Chopard - Josh said it smelled like a street hooker (i seriously hope he doesn't know this from first hand experience). It is wayyyy too sweet.

3. Balmain Ambre Gris - very sweet - I might end up liking it - smells so differently on Rob. Maybe the chemistry thing is true after all, I always thought it was a farce. I like the bottle.

I also got Madness by Chopard - haven't tried it yet.

I was so excited about Habanita. The reviews were glowing. Sometimes I wonder if perfume-addicts smell the perfume too closely. If I didn't know what Habanita was 'supposed' to smell like - I wouldn't get it at all. It's only because I read the reviews and know the list of notes that I didn't scrub it off after 5 minutes. The bloody stuff doesn't scrub off either - I can still smell it!!! I'll happily wear Bandit and Tabac Blond and skip Habanita if I want to smell leather/tobacco.

I have no tolerance for sweet 'fumes lately. I wonder if I'm changing? I'm obsessed with vetiver, balsam, sandalwood and patchouli.

Purchased Chanel No 19 from ebay today. Anxiously awaiting Chanel Bois de Iles - should arrive tomorrow or next day.

I really like the Balmain Ambre Gris bottle. I'm looking at it right now. The top is making me think of a microphone. I love the cube-shaped bottle and label. I really like simple bottles - like FM, SL, Jo Malone, Teo Cabanel, Miller Harris, Hermes, and Chanel.

x
A


Hey Abigail,

I just decanted Habanita for you yesterday, and doing so I thought, I wonder if I should even do this, I bet she won't like the powder. Still, it was on your list. I'm holding off on the Cuir de Russie since you don't know if you ordered it or not, but I'd love to smell the bois when you get it.

The Balmain sounds right up my alley. I typically love their stuff, bar none.

Casmir I have too. I bought it as a gift and re-acquired it several years on. I don't wear it and rarely sniff it. It smells like suntan oil to me, which can be nice, when you're sunning, and your sunblock is scentless.

Turin wrote an article recently which commented on how many perfumers are heavy smokers. Lots, he concluded.

Cuir de Russie came from Chanel today and arrived in pristine condition. They wrapped the shit out of that thing. No samples, disappointingly. I had visions of them trying to make it up to me. I'm interested now in Coromandel and Respire.

X
Brian


Hi Brian,

You know, I actually thought the whole "it doesn't work with MY chemistry" thing was just a way for people to say they didn't like it, politely. The difference between Balmain Ambre Gris on Rob's arm vs. mine was astounding. The woods and ambergris/salt was apparent on him and not at all on me. If it smells on you like it does on Rob I'm sure you'll like it (and it's $24.95 for 100 ML!!)

So I'm working from home today and as yet unshowered. I still reek of Habanita and Casmir!! Both of these deserve recognition for their lasting power - Mon Dieux!

Parfum1 sent a free bottle of Worth by Je Reviens. I've never heard of it but am scared to try it. The juice is NEON BLUE.

I'm oddly obsessed with the Balmain Ambre Gris bottle. I want to keep it in front of me and use it as a paperweight.

I also ordered Ivoire for next to nothing. It hasn't arrived yet.

x
A


Oh Abigail,

It saddens me that you aren't enthused with Habanita, but I'm holding out hope that it'll grow on you, like Bandit. I took the Habanita decant out of the package I sent you and sprayed it on myself in the early morning. It lasted all day. I'd forgotten how persistent it is.

Here's the thing: Yes, there's something very powdery about it, but I think that's just the edt, and it eventually goes away. Recently I smelled the EDP and it doesn't have that powdery density--at all. When I first sprayed the EDP I thought they'd completely reformulated the fragrance. I'm sure they tweaked something (they always do) but many edp's are slightly different, and Habanita's ends up in roughly the same place as its edt concentration.

When Turin called Habanita "vetiver vanilla" I couldn't understand what he was getting at--until I smelled the EDP, where the vetiver is pronounced from the beginning. The EDP has that lemongrass tang to it, and feels much lighter going on, almost transparent, and yet into the heart and the dry down it has reached the same points as the edt. After discerning the vetiver in the EDP I can now smell it in the edt, and I enjoy it much better. I'm sickened though. I looked on perfume1 and see that it sells at half what I paid for it elsewhere.

I think part of the problem with fragrances like Habanita whose reputations precede them is the fact that by the time you get hold of them you've built up an unconsciously specific idea of what they must smell like, and you're inevitably disappointed. Usually, some sort of adjustment period follows, where you grow to appreciate the scent on its own terms or--not.

I purchased Ambre Gris online yesterday. What does gris mean, anyway? It's like Bois and Tabac and Cuir: all over the place in perfume nomenclature. I suppose I could look it up, but you can only open so many windows on the computer screen, and mine are all occupied with perfume blogs and discount vendors.

On the way to work this morning I thought, I don't even LIKE Amber. Then I started to think how a bad review can make you just as interested in a perfume as one which praises it. Somehow, the things you said about Ambre Gris made it sound super appealing to me. Elsewhere I saw burnt sugar and caramel, some earthiness, etc. I hope I like it. The bottle alone seems have-worthy.

I'll expect to know what you think of Ivoire, naturally.


Brian


Hey Brian,

Balmain Ivoire arrived today. My first reaction was: Dial & Dove soap! Now it's settled in and it's really nice. It IS mostly soapy but when I smell closely there's a lot more going on - sort of a spicy green with a hint of soap. I like it. There's something comforting and parental about it. The smell makes me feel like I'm being taken care of and everything is going to be all right... ;-) what is that sortof dark, medicinal, metallic smell? And I'm not being negative, I like this smell...(oh, but this bottle, so ugly! looks like it came off a drugstore counter from 1976!)

re: Gris ~ I assumed Ambre Gris was just the French word for ambergris. You know what ambergris is...that's why I was expecting Ambre Gris to smell salty - which it DID on Rob's arm and not mine.

I totally agree about fragrances whose reputations precede them. Unfortunately there are so many of these. I could make a really long list of perfumes that are classics and receive rave reviews that I'm smelled and wondered "what's the big deal?" I definitely think I oversprayed Habanita the other night. I tend to spray quite a bit when I'm smelling a scent for the first time. With Habanita, this really wasn't a good thing to do.

Bois = Wood
Tabac = Tobacco
Cuir = Leather

'Bois' seems everywhere. Now that I'm thinking about SL Bois de Violette - the name accurately describes the fragrance. I expected more violet - but the name roughly translates to 'wood violet' - so that's why it smells to me of a pile of cedarwood with one tiny violet plunked in the middle.

On my left arm is Ivoire and on my right arm is Caron Parfum Sacre. The jury is still out on Parfum Sacre, I don't know what to make of it yet. One thing I really like to do is AVOID reading reviews and the list of notes as much as possible. This way, when I smell something, it isn't influenced by whatever has already been said. I like to lessen the power of suggestion as much as possible.

Did you see the comment I received a few days ago about Immortal Flower on the Balmain Ambre Gris review? I thought that was an interesting and helpful note. I didn't know the story of Annick Goutal Sables nor the story of Immortelle. You know, of course, Annick Goutal Sables is on the list now...

I love amber. Teo Cabanel Alahine is very ambery to me and it's one of my favorites. Amber needs to be relatively dry, not sweet, and then I love it. I've been waiting for Serge Lutens to make a nice dry amber for years.... Serge? Are you reading?! Because his last few launches...mostly cinnamon and veering toward gourmand....haven't impressed me....

- A xo


Dear Abigail,

Yeah, I figured out the bois and tabac and the cuir (though it took a while to bring myself to pronounce it correctly out loud), but gris seemed contradictory. How can ambre be gris then Iris too? It seems to mean gray, from what I can find online, which makes perfect sense for the latter, which is totally gray to the point of glittery. But it makes little sense when tagged onto amber. So go figure. I'm sure some kind benevolent soul out there will write to let us know.

There is something medicinal about Ivoire, now that you mention it. I bet it's the galbanum, which probably gives it that weird, menthol glow. I really love Ivoire. It does smell parental, too. I kind of like the bottle. Compared to the new Van Cleef bottle it's downright high class. The bottle seems like a drugstore version of Chanel's packaging but I love it. It's down to earth.

I love immortelle. I didn't realize you'd never smelled Sables. Something else I'll have to send you. I wonder if you'd care for it. The overall effect is burnt sugar sweet. Immortelle is to Sables what aldehydes are to No. 5, like someone had a little left in the bottle and thought, well, I might as well put it in, otherwise it'll go to waste. Immortelle is in Coriolan by Guerlain and in Diesel Fuel for Life, though to me it's more difficult to detect in both of those. Boucheron's Initial uses it too.

I've seen that Ayala Moriel has a perfume based around immortelle, called Immortelle l'Amour. The notes are: Vanilla, Rooibos tea, Wheat absolute, Broom, Sweet orange, and Cinnamon. What the hell is broom? Basenotes lists four or five fragrances using it as a note. Perhaps there is a broom absolute? To my uninformed mind, it's like saying "hair from the seat cushion my dog Alfie sat on yesterday." But who am I?

x
Brian