Annick Goutal Le Mimosa

It’s no secret that I’m a huge Annick Goutal fangirl. Early last year I wrote a week-long tribute about several of their most amazing fragrances. Annick Goutal, for me, is the epitome of quality, class, sophistication and beauty. Every single fragrance from Annick Goutal is exceptional quality and I can even appreciate the few I don’t like, which for the record are Mandragore, Petite Cherie and Ninfeo Mio. To not like a mere three out of a very long line-up is pretty amazing. And it’s not that I don’t think these fragrances aren't good, it’s simply that they aren’t my style.

It’s probably also not a secret that I adore mimosa. Parfums de Nicolaï Mimosaique and L’Artisan Mimosa pour Moi are two of my favorites for spring and summer. Ironically, I don’t think I’ve ever smelled mimosa flowers in real life so when I smell mimosa prominent fragrances I can only assume that Mimosaique and Mimosa pour Moi smell somewhat like the real thing. The idea that Annick Goutal created a mimosa fragrance to add to their Les Soliflores collection was like a dream come true and I’ve been waiting with baited breath for its arrival. I love every single other soliflore in Goutal’s collection; especially Le Chevrefeuille which is like honeysuckle iced tea to me. Oh, and AG’s Neroli is fabulous. But I could go on and on and on about all their fragrances which are absolutely fantastic (Songes, Heure Exquise, Rose Splendide, Eau de Ciel, Ambre Fetiche, Encens Flamboyant, Sables, Un Matin d’Orage...seriously...I may as well list the entire line).

Sadly, I’m pretty bummed out about this, but Le Mimosa didn’t live up to my expectations. Sure, it comes in an adorable polka-dotted box with polka-dotted ribbon and as a little girl I had a fascination with polka-dots from about age 3-9 (I still remember the pink & purple polka-dot curtains in my bedroom with matching bedspread and sheets). So, as you can imagine, Le Mimosa comes housed in all sorts of cuteness and this level of adorable girlishness does give one a preview of how the fragrance smells. It’s a very young, girlish, cute and innocent fragrance. You might say all mimosa scents are like this and I wouldn’t disagree with you. But Le Mimosa turns out to be much more about peach, pear and a slight juicy greenness and very little to do with actual mimosa. Le Mimosa, like all scents from Annick Goutal is quite lovely, especially if you think you would enjoy a sweet little peachy-pear-floral, but if you’re expecting a true mimosa solifore I think you’ll be disappointed.

To me, Keiko Mecheri Peau de Peche is the best peach fragrance ever created with its oh-so-delicate fuzzy peach skin quality. It’s probably two or three times per year when I yearn to smell a bit peachy, and the Keiko Mecheri is what I’d reach for. Annick Goutal’s Le Mimosa has both peach and pear notes along with what I’ve previously described as “plant juice” essence (I think it was Hermessence Iris Ukiyoe the last time I described this “plant juice” quality). I actually like the overall scent of Le Mimosa, but can’t get past the fact that it doesn’t smell enough like mimosa nor is it truly my style. It reminds me of AG’s Petite Cherie, which, as stated above, is one of the few Goutal’s I don’t wear. Although for the record, I like Le Mimosa much more than Petite Cherie and would gladly wear it over Petite Cherie.

I didn’t need or want another mimosa scent that smelled especially similar to L’Artisan Mimosa Pour Moi or Parfums de Nicolaï Mimosaique so I’m glad the AG Mimosa isn’t in the same vein. One of the biggest differences is that the L’Artisan and PdN both use heavy doses of what I’d describe as heliotrope, giving both fragrances almost a fluffy, powdery quality. There is nothing in the way of heliotrope or a powdery sensation in the Goutal Mimosa – so perhaps for some this will be exactly what they are looking for. I was so curious to smell AG’s version of a mimosa soliflore and I’m left wishing they had amped up the mimosa note about a million times over. If the mimosa note was more prominent it probably would better compliment the peachy-pear-greenness a good deal; similar to the way apricot compliments osmanthus so divinely. Or maybe it’s my chemistry, perhaps the mimosa note just doesn’t show up on me.

As with all perfumes, your experience may vary, so even though I’m disappointed with Le Mimosa, you might still give this one a shot if you’re a Goutal fan or a lover of fresh, fruity florals. Even though I’m not head over heels for Le Mimosa its still one of the best fruity florals launched in the past year.

Notes: bergamot, anise, mimosa, iris, sandalwood, musk, peach

Molinard Les Fleurs de Provence Mimosa

In addition to linden, I’m always on the hunt for mimosa scents. So far, my hands-down favorite mimosa fragrances are Parfums de Nicolaï Mimosaique, L’Artisan Mimosa Pour Moi and Caron Farnesiana. For a person who has never smelled mimosa in real life I’m awfully obsessed with this note. I wonder if I’ll feel the same way, once I smell the actual flower, or if living with this imaginary notion of mimosa makes it ever better.

If you’re familiar with my top there favorite mimosa scents, I would compare Molinard’s mimosa with Caron Farnesiana with which it shares the most similarity. The PdN and L’Artisan Mimosas are very true to the flower, exhibiting a natural and slightly green take. Caron Farnesiana blends mimosa with heliotrope and creates a marzipan-gourmand impression. Molinard’s Mimosa is also a creamy almondy scent that is surprisingly delightful. I bought Molindard’s Mimosa from BeautyEncounter for about $25 bucks, expecting that I’d use it to spritz my sheets if it sucked. It doesn’t suck, it’s pretty good, though I must confess to basing my review a bit upon the price tag.

Molinard’s Mimosa reminds me of the one and only time I made pie crust from scratch. The smell of dough and sensation of flour on my hands is this fragrance. There’s an element of L’Artisan’s Bois Farine here, a doughy quality which I want to knead between my fingers. Because of this association there’s a dometic diva idea running through my head – I imagine a country cottage with those adorable lace curtains, shifting quietly as a mimosa tinged breeze billows through them as I place the pie in the preheated oven. There’s a 1950s retro association about Molinard’s Mimosa – it’s cuddly soft, slightly doughy, dreamy and delicate. Unlike the PdN and L’Artisan there is no cucumber or green here – this is all creamy, dreamy deliciousness.

For $25 bucks Molinard Mimosa is wonderful. It’s not long-lived, lasting maybe 2 hours, and I do spray it on my sheets.

Above photo by Tearoom on Flickr

Lettuce Love the Vegetable Scents of Summer

Apparently I love the smell of vegetables. Two of my all-time favorite scent notes, especially during the hot & steamy months, are mimosa and tilleul (aka linden or French lime blossom). In case you’re looking for recommendations for amazing mimosa soliflores they are Parfums de Nicolaï Mimosaique and L’Artisan Mimosa Pour Moi. The best tilleul fragrance I’ve ever comes across is Parfums D’Orsay Tilleul which I literally bathe in on hot days; Jo Malone’s French Lime Blossom is also nice but you can also get by with a cheapie from Provence Sante called Tilleul (of all things). I’ve read reviews about my favorite mimosa and tilleul soliflores on other blogs and found that many folks notice a decidedly vegetal quality to them. I wouldn’t have noticed this cucumber association had it not been mentioned, but, as it goes with the power of suggestion, now I do. Cucumbers don’t really smell like this – it is the fragrance industry’s translation of cucumber that people are smelling. Nevertheless, I think most of us can identify the scent of cucumber, tomato or other vegetal aromas in our fragrances.

It’s July, therefore it’s steamy hot in Jersey, so I’m loving Roger & Gallet’s Lettuce soap, as well as their Tilleul shower cream and body lotion. I adore Miller Harris Geranium Bourbon and Annick Goutal’s Folavril which both smell like the most refreshingly joyous tomato plants and geranium leaves. If you had a vegetable garden growing up or have one now and love the scent of tomato plants, you really must try both of these fragrances. I also have a gigantic vat of Marc Jacobs Cucumber body splash, which is a nice scent, but needs to be applied about six times per day, which isn’t something I usually get around to doing.

I think most hardcore perfume aficionados might balk at these vegetal scents and not consider them “real” perfume. In a way, I understand that, because I wear these scents during the hottest days when I can’t bear to wear a true perfume. Nevertheless, I love me some lettuce…and tomato….and cucumber…when the thermostat
rises.

Oh, and don't even get me started on this brand I just found at Williams Sonoma called Cucina. They have a hand wash and lotion that smells like zucchini flower...

Three Mimosa Scents: Givenchy Harvest 2007 Amarige Mimosa, L’Artisan Mimosa Pour Moi & Parfums de Nicolaï Mimosaique

There are three floral notes that, when done well, make me swoon like crazy – orange blossom, linden and mimosa. I’ve smelled orange blossom and linden in nature and they’re two of the most mesmerizing fragrances on the planet. I haven’t yet come across mimosa in nature so I can only imagine what it must smell like. When I think about these three scents, I realize there’s a similarity – they’re all are rather light, airy, sweet yet green.

I did a bit of research about mimosa since I’m unfamiliar with the plant. I found that the mimosa used in perfumery (usually listed as acacia or acacia farnesiana) grows in southern France and Italy with bright yellow blooms. There is a related plant that’s oftentimes called mimosa which grows in the southern U.S. and Hawaii. The blooms of this plant are purplish pink and the scent is similar but this is actually the silk tree, not true European mimosa, and not the same species used in perfumery for centuries.

I have three fragrances which showcase mimosa most beautifully; Givenchy Harvest 2007 Amarige Mimosa, L’Artisan Mimosa Pour Moi and Parfums de Nicolaï Mimosaique.

Givenchy’s Harvest edition is similar to the original Amarige but it is so much better. It’s as if Givenchy highlighted only the best parts and minimized all negative bits of Amarige creating the most gorgeous, mimosa-orange blossom-oriental scent in this galaxy. Mimosa takes the spotlight in this scent and the overall effect is much more delicate and airy and gentle. The original Amarige is known to be a loud scent and while the 2007 Harvest edition does have nice longevity it is a good deal softer and does not pack a wallop like the original. This is a softly spicy and well-blended mimosa scent which is vivacious and flirty instead of girly and innocent like most mimosa scents.

L’Artisan’s Mimosa Pour Moi was a pleasant surprise for me. The surprise being the longevity, which is decent for L’Artisan, and on top of that I would never have expected a mimosa scent to be one of their more tenacious fragrances. Mimosa is generally a light, soft and fleeting aroma but somehow L’Artisan managed to create a scent that is heavenly and even sticks around long enough for me to enjoy it for about 3+ hours.

Parfums de Nicolaï Mimosaique is actually my favorite mimosa scent. Mimosaique is nothing short of nose nirvana. I wish I could bathe in this stuff, wash my sheets in it, use Mimosaique soap, shampoo, hand cream and burn candles made from it. Maybe it’s just me, but I’m nuts about Mimosaique. Here’s the problem – it’s the most fleeting of these three scents. Yesterday I sprayed Mimosaique on one arm and Mimosa Pour Moi on the other and I could smell the L’Artisan for at least 2 more hours. Patricia de Nicolaï, if you happen to read this, would you please do something about the longevity? I beg thee! Mimosaique is a stunning masterpiece of fresh, sweet, green, airy, delight and happiness. For me, it’s an anti-depressant in a bottle. Utterly beautiful.

CARON Farnesiana: A Review

Mimosa is among my top five favorite notes. Mimosa is in my beloved Amarige by Givenchy (and FYI the mimosa is much more apparent and breathtaking in the 2007 Harvest Edition of Amarige). One of my favorite L’Artisan perfumes is Mimosa Pour Moi. Unbelievably Mimosa Pour Moi lasts for a few hours on my skin (yay, for L’Artisan!) and it’s a wonderfully rendered greenish mimosa soliflore. Jean-Paul Guerlain's Champs-Elysees is also meant to be based on a mimosa accord. Caron’s Farnesiana is nothing like Amarige, Mimosa Pour Moi or Champs-Elysees but I mention them so you can make comparisons amongst mimosa-focused fragrances.

Farnesiana was recreated by Michel Morsetti from Ernest Daltroff’s notes after his death in 1941 and released in 1947. The name is taken from the Latin name for cassie, Acacia Farnesiana, as well as the garden in the Roman palace of Farnese which is the inspiration for Farnesiana.

Farnesiana’s initial burst is mimosa, cassie and heliotrope. Heliotrope usually smells like play-doh to me and it also does in Farnesiana but it’s a lighter, fluffier and gorgeously gourmand heliotrope which causes me to envision marzipan and almond milk. I’m in awe of how groundbreaking Farnesiana must have been in 1947. To me, it’s a floral gourmand, wayyyy ahead of it’s time, and simply heavenly. If you sniff really hard, with the intent of detecting the other notes, you can smell a powdery violet and perhaps other florals. Overall Farnesiana is a sweet (but not overly sweet in the least), floral, powdery gourmand masterpiece. When I use the term gourmand please don’t think of sickly sweet dessert fragrances from Comptoir Sud. In my mind, the gourmand category has sadly been “dumbed down” to the point of only being associated with sweet cupcakes, chocolate, frosting, and bakery confections. The gourmand category has unfortunately received a bad rap lately but if there were more gourmands created like Farnesiana, well, I think this reputation could easily reverse.

Farnesiana is drop-dead gorgeous. It’s so soothing and comforting I wish I could spray my bed linens with it. Almond is not listed in Farnesiana’s notes but it seems like everyone (myself included) find it to be an almondy-floral-mimosa-powdery nirvana.

Lasting power: Average ~ 3-4 hours
Sillage: soft
This review is based on the eau de parfum, not the extrait.

Givenchy Amarige Harvest Edition 2007: A Review

Today I went to the Short Hills mall in New Jersey. The fictional family from the Sopranos lived right around the corner in Caldwell. Carmella and Meadow must have loved shopping here. This mall is a dream for perfume fanatics. Stores of note: Saks, Neiman Marcus, Nordstrom, Sephora, L’Occitane, Molton Brown, Bloomingdales and Macy’s.

I went in search of two new fragrances: Lolita Lempicka Forbidden Flower and Hermes Un Jardins Apres la Mousson.
I purchased the following: Amarige 2007 Limited Harvest Edition, Prada Infusion d'Iris, Missoni Aqua, Annick Goutal Petit Cherie, Comptur Sud Amour Cacao, Lolita Lempicka Forbidden Flower, Kenzo Amour Indian Holi. Unfortunately, Hermes Un Jardins Apres la Mousson was out of stock everywhere.

I’ll discuss all the others later, tonight I’m swooning all over myself because of the Amarige 2007 Limited Harvest Edition. I adore the regular Amarige. But this stuff is stunning. It’s like regular Amarige minus anything noticeably synthetic and with greater mimosa clarity. Givenchy says the main note of Amarige is mimosa. The Limited Harvest Edition contains Mimosa exclusively from Tamil, Nadu, India. Apparently 2007 was an exceptional year for mimosa from Tamil, Nadu, India. I guess perfume is similar to wine in this regard. Like grapes, floral harvests vary from year to year. I might have though this was a marketing gimmick until I smelt the juice and my knees buckled.

Amarige 2007 Limited Harvest Edition doesn’t conjure up any childhood associations or memories for me like most other perfumes do. If I had to (upon the threat of death or something) choose a perfume that I consider to be my signature scent it would be Amarige. Givenchy launched Amarige in 1992 and I began wearing it in 1994 or so. I was in college. I wore Amarige exclusively for the next 4 years. Being just out of college and broke had something to do with wearing it for 4 years straight, but I do love it just the same. As much as it’s considered a very popular fragrance I never come across anyone wearing it. Not being from India or wherever else mimosa grows naturally I’m not familiar with the scent of mimosa. I’ve smelt Mimosa Pour Moi by L’Artisan but this is so light and subtle and smells nothing like Amarige. The image that comes to mind when I wear and smell Amarige is orange molten lava. In fact, the color association is most definitely orange, an orangey-yellowish-brown crusted lava. It’s lava because the fragrance is thick, warm and enveloping. It’s thick and heavy but also airy all at the same time. One does need to be careful with light application because too much and it could easily walk in the room a few feet before you and stay 10 minutes after you leave.

Technically it’s a floral oriental with a woody base. Among the listed top notes for Amarige are neroli, mandarin leaf and coumarin. This makes sense, because I love neroli and I also love Lou Lou by Cacharel which is said to be based upon coumarin. Coumarin is an old fashioned perfume note, and when it’s done well I think it lends a sophistication and timelessness to modern perfumes.

I looked up Coumarin and found this from Wikipedia: Coumarin is a chemical compound (benzopyrone): a toxin found in many plants, notably in high concentration in the tonka bean, woodruff, mullein and bison grass. It has a sweet scent, readily recognized as the scent of newly-mown hay, and has been used in perfumes since 1882. The name comes from a French word, coumarou, for the tonka bean.

The newly mown hay note must be what gives Amarige it’s greenish airy quality.

Oh, Amarige, you are such a complex and gorgeous fragrance, you’re citrusy & green (neroli, coumarin & mandarin leaf), yet you’re heavy and airy, while also earthy and woody, and after a few hours you become orange molten lava all set upon an airy woody base. Amarige is complex, unusual, feisty and unabashedly sexy. If Amarige were a person, she’d be one very complicated dame. She’d be sometimes unbearable, but mostly a magnetically charming knockout. But she doesn’t stop there, I told you she was complicated, she’s much more than just a sexy vixen, because she also has a heart and softness and a worldly sophistication that is certainly classy and timeless. She is so utterly enigmatic and impossible to describe that when you wear her she simply becomes you.