Sonoma Scent Studio: Incense Pure

I hate the smell of incense burning. I've been over that new age scene since 1994. In perfumery, however, incense is an entirely different experience. The incense fragrances I own and love are YSL Nu (edp only, never, ever (ever!) bother with the edt), Parfum d'Empire Wazamba, Bond No. 9's Silver Factory and Etro Shaal Nur. I also have the Comme des Garcon's incense series but over time have grown bored with them. The CdG incense scents seem too realistic, too austere and too 'religious ceremony' for my own personal use.

If you've been reading me, you know that I'm a huge Sonoma Scent Studio fan-girl. I think everything Ms. Erickson creates is exceptional. I don't mean "exceptional for a small independent perfumer," I mean exceptional in the grand scheme of all perfume houses. I often think that if one were to slap some Serge Lutens labels on Ms. Erickson's work the entire perfume-fanatic world would be aflutter and her bottles would sell so fast, far and wide she'd never be able to keep up with production needs. Oh, and include some of that vaguely mysterious, must-try-to-decipher the hidden meaning Lutens pre-release marketing copy and Erickson would have to hire throngs of help otherwise her business would implode from success.

Incense Pure is another one of Erickson's brilliant creations. In fact, I think it's within my top 3 favorites from Sonoma Scent Studio (please don't ask me to list my top 3 favorites because this list of 3 is surely 6 in reality). OK, but now it feels like a dare so let me try:
1. Tabac Aurea
2. Vintage Rose
3. Winter Woods
4. Voile de Violette
5. Ambre Noir
6. Champagne de Bois (speaking of which reminds me of Chanel Bois de Iles but better. There's more sandalwood in CdB and zero turpentine. Apologies to BdI fans, and I do love BdI myself, it's just that Champagne de Bois is beautiful from the start while BdI takes at least an hour to warm up from turpentine to nice sandalwood on me).

And now I must insert Incense Pure into this list - I guess I'd wedge it between Winter Woods and Vintage Rose so it's within the top 3 as I suggested.

Anyway, I have the pleasure of occasionally sniffing Erickson's work while it's still in progress. With Incense Pure, I found the final perfume to be strikingly and beautifully different from the last in-progress vial I sniffed. Sometimes I'm not so sure Erickson is able to incorporate the various comments she receives from her in-progress sniff team. What does one do when the comments are all over the place? For the same perfume, she surely receives this set of feedback: "too sweet," "not sweet enough," "too dry," "too peppery," "not spicy enough..." and so on. Somehow Erickson manages to take all of these oftentimes opposing points of view and craft a final fragrance that knocks everyone off their feet. Maybe she casts a spell over us, I dunno.

Incense Pure is a clean, dry, refreshing, relaxing and natural world fragrance. It is all about incense yet it is not musty, smoky, dusty or dirty at all. Incense Pure (IP) makes me feel refreshed, as if I'm hiking in a nearby state park smelling fresh air, coniferous trees, bark, and the fresh smells of nature. Like I wrote about Wazamba, there is an inherently peaceful, meditative and self renewing feeling from smelling IP. While IP seems chock-full of dry, resinous incense and woods, I need to impress upon you how utterly airy and wearable it is. Somehow IP does not form a scent "wall" but an impression of airy permanence. Erickson definitely included dashes of vanilla and labdanum for a teensy amount of sweetness which gives IP a comforting and approachability factor. But if I didn't know vanilla was there, I can't say I smell it. I mostly smell frankincense, myrrh, sandalwood (and other woods) and a fresh coniferous quality. There are elements of IP that remind me of two of my favorite fragrances; the myrrh is reminiscent of the gorgeously dry yet sweet myrrh in Diptyque L'eau Trois and the frankincense reminds me of the drop dead gorgeous Amouage Lyric.

The notes for Incense Pure include frankincense, myrrh, cistus oil, labdanum absolute, sandalwood, natural oakmoss absolute, aged Indian patchouli, cedar, ambergris, orris, angelica root absolute, elemi oil, and vanilla absolute.

Notes on Jacques Cavallier

After smelling all manner of wonderful, exotic things in Italy, I returned home to find my bottle of Calvin Klein Man. It was sitting there on my desk, where I'd left it. The smell transported me back, twenty days ago, to the frantic state of mind I was in as I struggled to tie up last minute loose ends in preparation for such a lengthy time away. I bought CK Man several days before my departure. It's only now, coming back to it, that I realize how far it went toward calming me, however crazed I felt at the time. What is it about the work of Jacques Cavallier, the nose behind CK Man and so many other fragrances I love, that appeals to me?

Chandler Burr on Cavallier: "...a prolific perfumer so successful these days that he often seems to generate a quarter of each year’s worldwide fragrance product." Interestingly, in a recent review of Cavallier's latest Stella flanker, Sheer Stella, Burr accused its creative team of crass commercialism and lowest common denominator aromachemicals. Cavallier responded in print, correcting Burr's facts if not his opinion. The ingredients of Sheer are the same as those in the original; simply modified into different proportions. This bit of careless inaccuracy must have irked Cavallier to no end, given how often his perfumes have been judged more emotionally (i.e. irrationally) than factually.

Cavallier, self admittedly strong-willed, has built a reputation, in part, on a small body of cult favorites, fragrances difficult to classify, sometimes impossible to market. Some have been discontinued. All are interesting, whether success or failure by commercial standards. That isn't to say Cavallier doesn't create marketable fragrances. Some of his creations, like Issey Miyake L’Eau d’Issey, have been genre-defining hits. But for every hit there are one or two "misses". The interesting thing about those so-called misses is how influential they are in their own way. Far from missing their targeted audiences, these ricochet off into different precincts of the industry, creating new trends, planting the seeds for new audiences through alternate combinations, forging innovative paths which other perfumers then follow. It's a different kind of success.

M7, for Yves Saint Laurent, is no longer available in the U.S., but it presages the craze for all things aoud in masculines and feminines alike. M7 probably helped make the Montale line possible. It certainly influenced the recent reinterpretation of Habit Rouge, the edp concentration of which replaced powdery carnation and amber with agarwood. The inclusion of rosemary in the M7 mix typically goes unremarked, yet it adds a trademark touch of the herbal dissonance to the composition in a way which relates M7 to everything from Ultraviolet for Paco Rabanne to the above mentioned CK Man in Cavallier's oeuvre.

The herbal bent of Cavallier's compositions often has, as with CK Man, a lactonic quality, giving it a richness and an opacity unique to perfumery. Le Feu D'Issey (discontinued and difficult to find) and L'eau Bleu D'Issey both explore this territory, resembling the milky viscosity you get when you break open certain twigs and plants. Feu is less openly herbal, applying the effect to citrus notes. Bleu is unabashedly green and aromatic, and in addition to the herbal tones it features another Cavallier trademark, an odd little bread note. That bread note reappears in different combinations throughout his output, creating alternate takes on what is already a unique accord.

The apotheosis of this bread note appears in YSL Elle, which Cavallier recently co-created with frequent collaborator Olivier Cresp. The two have also worked together on Midnight Poison, Cacharel Amor Pour Homme Tentation, Diesel Fuel for Life Unlimited, Lancome Magnifique, Nina Ricci "Nina", and Paco Rabanne Pour Elle. Aside from Cresp, Cavallier's most frequent collaborator has been Alberto Morillas. His creations with Cresp have been less overtly odd. His work with Morillas, his "brother in creation", seems to have trickled off around 2003. A more recent collaboration with Annick Menardo proved one of the more interesting fusions of technique in contemporary perfumery. Who knew that the sensibilities of the two would compliment each other so well? For Diesel Fuel for Life Women, he matched her creamy vanillic-floral contribution with herbs and that signature bread note, creating a unique take on the trend for fruity florals. Fuel for Life Men presented a modern fougere, part fruity, part fern.

His most iconic fragrances, aside from L'eau d'Issey, have been Acqu di Gio for men, Jean Paul Gaultier Classique, Bulgari Eau Parfumee au The Blanc, Essenza di Zegna, Armani Mania, Stella McCartney, and Lancome Poeme. My own personal favorites have typically been YSL fragrances created under partnership with Tom Ford: Cinema, M7, the fantastic Nu (again, slightly ahead of the craze for incense fragrances), and Rive Gauche Pour Homme. His work with Ford continued after Ford's tenure at YSL ended. Since then he has done two Private Blends under the Tom Ford brand name: Tuscan Leather and the sublime Noir de Noir, both with Harry Fremont, who was also his collaborator on CK Man. I appreciate Calvin Klein Truth and Boucheron Initial (a wonderful use of immortelle) without feeling too passionately about either.

Weirdly, my favorites aren't necessarily those I wear most often. I can't remember the last time I sprayed on Nu, let alone M7. So it's no surprise that the first Cavallier fragrance I bought and loved is the one I wear the least frequently. Kingdom is unusual even for Cavallier, in that I find it difficult to relate to the rest of his work, apart from its general audacity. No other Cavallier fragrance divides as neatly down the line between love and hate. Some smell body odor. I smell jasmine, rose, and cumin. The first proposal for Alexander McQueen's first fragrance was what eventually became Secretions Magnifiques for Etat Libre D'Orange. Comparing Secretions to Kingdom shows how tame Kingdom really is. Whereas Secretions is assaultive and difficult to impossible (I like it, mind you), Kingdom integrates its oddness in a way which makes that dividing line not only possible but emphatic. Secretions is alarming and off-putting, no matter how much you appreciate it. Kingdom carries the big stick but walks softly with it.

Cavallier was born in 1962. His birthplace, big surprise, was Grasse. His family has been there since the 15th Century. Both his father and grandfather were perfumers. As a child, he studied raw materials with his father from 5 to 7 a.m. He joined several companies before Firmenich, with whom he's now employed.

Lancome Poeme

I don't know what it is lately but during the last several months I've been determined to give every fragrance I'm cautioned to avoid a bit more than a fighting chance. Maybe it's a rebellion thing. At school you were told to stay away from bad influences--not just things but people. Didn't it just make you want to follow them like a stray dog?

When I was a kid, I was told that my babysitter's boyfriend was no good, so of course I was all about the guy. I studied the sound of his voice, his expressions, his gestures, watched how the world composed itself around him, went wherever he went, looked forward to his visits while my parents were away. Ultimately, my mom forbid me from even talking to him (though, in retrospect, this might have had more to do with my unhealthy "attachment" than his alleged influence), and oh you should have seen the crying fit I pitched.

I've only recently started to realize how many perfumes I haven't even ventured to sniff simply because someone whose opinion I value (or am at least entertained by) discouraged me from bothering. Chalk this up to being a relative newbie. I had a lot of catching up to do. Naturally, happening onto this little sub-cultural pocket of bliss, one checks out all the consensus "classics" and the cult faves first. That takes a while, and I'm still at it--but, on the hunt for all these sometimes difficult to track down greats, I pass fragrances like Poeme again and again right there at the mall make-up counter. It's only a matter of time before I pick up the bottle.

Actually, judging by the perfume boards, Poeme has its fans. On the other hand, I admit it isn't the most groundbreaking scent I've ever laid nostrils on. However, the truth of its appeal and quality lies somewhere in the middle; meaning it's hardly the monstrosity I've heard it called, and doesn't deserve the kind of derision it sometimes gets. What interests me, more than Poeme's particular merits or demerits, is the phenomenon to which it falls prey, a death by obscurity that many perfectly decent fragrances suffer.

Poeme was made by Jacques Cavallier in 1995, five years after Lancome's bestselling Tresor. That was steep competition, and really, a rich floriental following a radiant rose is always going to have something of an uphill battle, lumbering under the weight of an already stuffed category. Even the company itself can't be counted on to help the thing out. The other day, smelling Poeme for the first time, I was actually directed away from it by the Lancome SA, who suggested Tresor instead. It's better, she exlained, without saying how. I sprayed some of the Poeme on a card before she got to me and walked around with it, surprised at how subtle it was compared to the way I'd heard it described. I liked it better and better, incensed at her hasty dismissal.

Luca Turin lists Poeme alongside Amarige and Spellbound as one of those fragrances that can clear a bus terminal at peak hours, so I expected something magnificently offensive. I'm wearing it today and while it's true that Poeme wafts up from your skin throughout the day, exceeding the lifespan of many a modern perfume, I would say it's tenacious but not offensively strong, unless you're just easily offended and need something to vent your frustration toward. I should also point out that Spellbound is one of my favorites. Silly me. You might expect to me to wear roach spray if it came in a fancy perfume bottle.

I immediately recognized Cavallier's hand in Poeme once I learned he'd created it. I can see suggestions of Shiseido Vocalize in it, as well as Rive Gauche Homme and YSL Cinema, and it is very clearly related to Jean Paul Gaultier Classique for women. Like JPG it smells of cosmetics--eye shadow and pancake foundation--and creates the impression of a woman preparing her face at a vanity, moving hands and hair in a cloud of fragrant powder. What it subtracts is the chemical hiss of fingernail polish. I can't say I miss it, though for me it has its charms in JPG. Interestingly, Perfume: The Guide also dislikes JPG Classique and puts it in the same camp as the above mentioned olfactory "atrocities." I imagine the pressure perfumers are under with a company like Lancome and wonder at how they're able to come up with anything at all, let alone something as nice as Poeme.

Jacques Cavallier doesn't seem to produce many fragrances about which people keep on the fence. M7: discontinued but legendary. Issey Miyake le Feu D'Issey: also discontinued, also legendarily love or hate. YSL Nu is one of the most fantastic peppery floral incense fragrances ever, if you're not one of the people who find it unutterably vile. Then there's Kingdom, which either smells like genital sweat or curried rose and jasmine with a deliciously salty edge. Recently, I tried Armani's Onde Vertige, one of a trio just released by the company. I'd read that Cavallier was responsible for one of them but when I got to the store I couldn't remember which. Guess which one I picked--and to think Maurice Roucel was among the competition. It reminded me how much I love Cavallier without always or even usually knowing why. Poeme has that curious appeal too, and as the day wears on and Poeme sticks with me, why and how matters less and less.

Keiko Mecheri Oliban

Keiko Mecheri Oliban is named for its most prominent scent note, olibanum. Olibanum is the proper name for frankincense which is a fragrant gum resin from Boswellia trees mostly commonly identified as the scent of incense.

Very often I review fragrances that are considered the Greats, such as Guerlain, Chanel, Serge Lutens, Comme des Garcons etc. But just as often I find myself writing about perfumes that are equally as great, but not as often discussed or perhaps disparaged on the perfume forums – the underdogs if you will. Perfumes like Ivoire, Safari, Un Jardin Apres La Mousson, Alien, Lalique Le Parfum (which Turin calls ‘rock bottom’ for Ropion), Angel, Angel Innocent, Youth Dew, Trouble, LouLou and Amarige are all perfumes I love and have written about. The reason I write about these underdogs is threefold, (1) to balance a fragrances’ reputation, particularly if I read mostly negative reviews about a scent that I happen to think is wonderful (*clears throat* Amarige and Angel are definitely on my mind for this point); (2) to point out that there are so many fragrances available at drugstores and department stores that are fabulous – one does not need to shop at Luckyscent to find good perfume or spend over $200 per bottle; and (3) to shed light on an excellent perfume that seems hardly discussed/undiscovered.

I believe Oliban falls into category #3. It’s a fabulously well crafted incense fragrance with gorgeous whiffs of blond tobacco, woods, rose and honey. The initial burst of incense and cedar are refreshingly spiritual (don’t most incense frags seem rather churchy to you?). Oliban, especially at the start, seems soothing, calming, centering and cleansing. When I feel harried, rattled or just tired, Oliban serves as a meditative pick me up. Most frankincense type frags seem decidedly unisex to me (well, all frags, in essence, are unisex but you understand I’m referencing cultural norms here) but Oliban introduces a soft rose note that causes it to lean towards the feminine, just slightly. The middle phase of Oliban is a delicate incense, tobacco and rose aroma – very subtle, a little mysterious, and with just a teaspoon of sweet honey. Oliban is not strictly an incense fragrance like anything from the Comme des Garcons Incense Series – I love Avignon and Zagorsk – but, for me, these are not for wearing to the office – these are ultra dry, seriously hardcore, virtually unadorned by anything but incense and woods fragrances. Oliban, on the other hand, is a perfume that I can wear to the office. Once dried down, some vanilla appears in the base, so for the longest duration Oliban smells like a softly spiced rose draped over a bed of woods and frankincense. Others have mentioned leather – I just don’t smell the leather myself.

I think Oliban would be a nice surprise for those who like incense, but not austere Catholic mass incense. Oliban is similar in style to YSL Nu edp (not edt), sans the pepper.

Longevity: Soft but excellent 5+ hours
Sillage: Soft but present
Rating: 4.5

Listed notes: atlas cedar wood, olibanum, blonde tobacco, damascene rose and honey

Pick a Pepper

I’ve always been fond of pepper. I pepper nearly everything I eat and the same goes for fragrance; a whiff of pepper makes a scent all the more intriguing for me. Supposedly, according to my horoscope, Aries people like pepper, along with the other fire signs (Leo and Sagittarius). I’ve been meaning to do a fluffy fun piece about the possible link between one’s zodiac sign and their choice of perfume but that’s still percolating in my mind for now. Peppery fragrances are wonderful for dreary days and cold weather so here are a few of my favorites peppers.

Diptyque Ofresia.
I reviewed Ofresia recently so I won’t bore you again, but this is a beautiful blend of freesia blooms and pepper. A sweet floral and pepper seems to me an unusual combination and the pepper stands out just as much as the freesia. I think it’s stunning and while I might tire of a fragrance that is singularly about freesia the addition of pepper keeps me sniffing myself all day ;-)

L’Artisan Poivre Piquant
I love the story of Poivre Piquant. The main notes of this fragrance are white pepper and milk. Poivre Piquant is based upon a tradition from Indian wedding ceremonies. In India pepper and sugar are placed on the bride’s veil to symbolize the hope of sweetness and spice in her upcoming marriage. The aroma of Poivre Piquant very much captures this idea of sweetness and spice – there’s an equal pairing of milk and honey with a soft whiff of pepper. Overall the fragrance is quite tender and comforting.

L’Artisan Piment Brulant
Piment Brulent reminds me so much of the book Chocolat by Joanne Harris. If you’ve read it you’ll remember the descriptions of “real hot chocolate” which were topped off with a dusting of cayenne pepper and other spicy ingredients. Piment Brulant contains notes of red pepper, chocolate, vanilla, musk, amber and cloves. It’s simply gorgeous, but not for the faint of heart – this stuff is as fiery as it is creamy.

Yves Saint Laurent Nu (the EdP, -not- the EdT which is quite different and not peppery at all). Brian introduced me to YSL Nu just a few months ago and it’s become one of my absolute favorites. Nu is a combination of incense and pepper. Nu is cooling, not fiery, but the whiffs of pepper are very much present.

And, no, I don’t usually sneeze while wearing my favorite peppery perfumes!

YSL and the Nu Wave: A Review

Much has been made of Nu’s unisex appeal. There’s no mistaking the floral accord, but the alleged white orchid here is no more prevalent than the iris in Dior Homme, and tempered similarly by contrasting influences (in Dior’s case, leather; in Nu’s, pepper and incense). Both have a heavy waft of powder about them. Is powder feminine? Someone tell Habit Rouge. This is a tiresome line of argument, as which scent should and should not be worn by one sex or the other is a now nearly cro-magnum hang-up. Fragrance augments persona, and personality transforms perfume, creating context and reference point: thus, a man in Nu is a unique assertion of masculinity, and a woman wearing it has the forceful charisma of a truck driver (and yes, some men like that kind of thing. Give them the chance to discover it). A sexier masculine than its wan aquatic contemporaries, smokier than most feminine fragrances dare, Nu is quintessentially bisexual. Ford thrives on such complex cross-references and gender conflations. To wear Nu, Black Orchid, or M7 is to dispense with broad generalization, engaging the intellect of wearer and witness in an unspoken dialog about the myths of he and she. Nu harkens back to Habanita and Bandit in its heightened ambiguity, looking forward to a time when the male and female sections at Sephora will collapse into one and the same thing.

For the rest of this review and others, visit perfumecritic.com.