Film Noir and Midnight Violet (Ava Luxe)

About a year ago, I was sent a decant of Midnight Violet. I didn't know what to make of it then--I still don't--but it prompted further exploration of fragrances by Ava Luxe and has remained a go-to scent for me ever since. As with any other line, there are stand-outs, some I feel strongly about, some I could do without. Some last; others don't. Midnight Violet, at least, has exceptional longevity and projection. At one time, the notes were listed as follows: violet, blue iris, orris, earth, black hemlock, galbanum, pink pepper, cinnamon, cedar, sandalwood, incense, wood balsam, moss, civet, and cashmere musk.

I say at one time because Midnight Violet seems to have been taken out of production, either permanently or for the time being. Some of Ava Luxe's scents are still available on the line's etsy page, though only in perfume oil concentration. I know that The Posh Peasant still stocks Midnight Violet, but the thought that it might one day be a thing of the past has inspired me to reconsider it with renewed interest. I was shocked to find that I've never reviewed it, or really any Ava Luxe fragrance in depth, especially given I like them as much as I do.

Midnight Violet is really about the hemlock, cedar, violet, and galbanum for me, and while it's said to be, and seems to be, an earthy violet, its camphoraceous qualities imbue it with a sense of the otherworldly, the slightly transitional, which might be where the name comes in. Abigail characterized Midnight Violet as a nighttime walk in the woods. I get that. More specifically, there are shapes shifting around in the darkness--maybe hallucinations, maybe not--and the moon casts just enough illumination to make you wonder. Like Ormonde Jayne Woman and Man, Midnight Violet is ultimately something simultaneously unsettling and settled, with a strange, eerie calm that should be but isn't at odds with its vibrantly outdoorsy aroma. Midnight Violet is more robust by far than all things Ormonde, but it shares some of the heightened tranquility of Ormonde and its sense of the mystical .

I wasn't a huge fan of Biba, another Luxe fragrance I didn't understand but had no real drive to. Queen Bess is a more than decent spice rose. Madame X was a bit too something or other for me, resulting in a bothersome distraction on my skin. I do like Cafe Noir, very much, and have written about it briefly elsewhere. However much you like or dislike certain Ava Luxe fragrances, however, there's no denying that for such a small outfit, the line has managed to create a distinct sensibility for itself, not just through the fragrances and the names chosen for them but through the imagery and strategies employed by the brand.

The line is a sincere and persuasive expression of its creator's interests and influences in a way (and to an extent) which is unusual for an indie perfumer--let alone niche or mainstream. The art nouveau motifs, the Hollywood glamour photos, the Vargas-like illustrations: together these form a filigreed, retro presence which, while borrowing from the past, creates something singular and entirely new, walking you into a world the fragrances embody. That sensibility provides you with a framework with which to evaluate the line.

Film Noir is one of my favorite leathers and another Ava Luxe fragrance presently unavailable on the line's etsy page. While Film Noir doesn't have Midnight Violet's forcefulness and seems to last a fraction of the time, I'm not bothered. The frame of mind it puts me in is solid enough to carry its own weight once Film Noir leaves the building. Sadly, the little bottle I have could be my last; not even The Posh Peasant, which has a pretty extensive selection of Ava Luxe, stocks this one.

Film Noir is unique in the category of leathers, as far as I know. Unlike Lancome Cuir, Balmain Jolie Madame, and Chanel Cuir de Russie, there's no underlying presence of violet or iris. Which isn't to say Film Noir is heavy on the birch tar. What I'd put it closest to is Donna Karan Signature, another favorite of mine. Like Signature, Film Noir is a bright leather with a lot of levity to it, an unusually fresh astringency in the top notes and the heart. If the Chanel and Lancome leathers are seated on a worn saddle for a horse ride through a field of flowers, Film Noir is out amongst the pines; where they are languorous and mellow, Film Noir is the bright white of an old crime thriller, its heroine's (or femme fatale's) overexposed face, secrets lurking under a deceptively straightforward surface.

Some people have seen a discrepancy between the perfume's title and its smell. It isn't that there's no darkness in Film Noir, no shadowed areas. It's more that the mysteries hide themselves in broad daylight, where they're least expected. Film Noir smells of new leather gloves and a purse into which have been thrown keys to hidden rooms, phone numbers scrawled on matchbooks, revealing photos and companion demands for money, a smart little handgun perfect for fitting under one's sleeve, and an embroidered handkerchief smelling as much of the man whose company it just left as the woman who carried it away. Were I to compare it favorably to another contemporary leather, it would be Rien by Etat Libre D'Orange. The two aren't similar at first glance (Rien is notably more pungent, with incense in the mix) but they're exploring similar territory, a region where leather is as apt to come into contact with concrete and metal as flowers and fields.

I hope that the removal of Midnight Violet and Film Noir from rotation is temporary, for your sake as much as mine. In a sea of uninspired dross, they're worth owning. These two alone show both the range and the consistency of the line. At first glance, they might seem world's apart. It helps to picture Midnight Violet as the forest Film Noir's femme fatale leads a detective into, where he tries and probably fails to read her face in moonlight thatched by overhead branches.

On Coffee and Booze: A*Men, Pure Malt (Cafe Noir, Michael for Men, and 1740)

I've never been much of a whiskey fan. Actually, I can't stand the stuff. I'm just not the patched elbow sort, nor do my fantasies revolve around leather armchairs, dark paneled libraries, chauffeured limos, smoking jackets, or prince nez, so I was a little disappointed when I heard that the latest seasonal flanker to Thierry Mugler's A*Men would venture into this infinitely stuffy territory, especially after the letdown, this time last year, of Pure Coffee.

Pure Malt, according to the company's ad copy, is "an innovation in perfumery," honoring "the tradition of Scotland's peaty whiskeys with its smoky and sensual woody accents. The result is a surprising fragrance of elegance and sophistication in which several malts collide." There's also talk of truly noble and refined masculinity, whatever that means. None of it sounded very thrilling to me, and yet, I kept returning to the Macy's counter over the last several weeks to see if the shipment had arrived.

I'd adjusted my expectations to "diminished", but was excited despite myself, and when I finally smelled Pure Malt I was a little...bored by it. I suppose I wanted it to upset my cynicism with some shocking quality I couldn't have expected to expect. Turns out, Pure Malt is just a great men's fragrance, but it took me a week of wearing it to remind me that in a world of marine scents and faux woody yawn-prompts, decent is hardly chopped liver. Spending time with Pure Malt, I remembered my first reactions to the original A*Men and, after it, B*Men. Both failed to thrill me upon initial application. Now I love them, and wouldn't want to be out of stock.

People's reactions to A*Men still surprise me. This tends to happen a lot with perfumes I love. They seem so unquestionably fantastic to me that the idea anyone might be less than floored by them seems inconceivable. The most frequent complaint against A*Men is its patchouli/chocolate/coffee cocktail. For those who hate this trifecta, the addition of caramel can't help. Me, I adore the combination. Something about the addition of lavender takes the fragrance to unexpected places, away from food into fresh, adding depth and tension. A*Men has great (correction: killer) longevity, which might be part of the problem. Patchouli haters aren't typically excited about a patchouli note which sticks it out to the bitter end, straight into the morning after.

Interestingly, Pure Coffee had many fans. The perception seems to be that it improved upon the overzealous mistakes of A*Men original, as if the people who had suffered through A*Men deserved an apology, but I found it to be a pale variation, too similar by far to merit a purchase. It smelled like coffee for all of four minutes, after which it smelled like A*Men lite. I much prefer the infinitely more tenacious Cafe Noir by Ava Luxe, which is a more streamlined, bare boned impression of coffee and lavender making nice, more long-lasting than Pure Coffee, drier and brisker than A*Men original, making them both bottle-worthy, rather than interchangeable.

Pure Malt is smooth, and long-lasting--and who knew malt would be such a nice compliment to the caramel undertones of A*Men? As for the woods, not so much, unless I'm just immune to what people consider woodsy at this point, having been pummeled over the head with it so often. Pure Malt reminds me a lot of Michael by Michael Kors. Michael is a cruder iteration of Pure Malt's agenda, but I'm a sucker for what Tania Sanchez calls a cheap and cheerful fragrance, and Michael has always fit the bill. Malt isn't listed in the notes but Michael gives off a rich, boozy vibe, mixing tobacco, patchouli, incense, and dried fruits with the herbal inluence of coriander, cardamom, tarragon, and thyme. Like A*Men original, Michael lasts for days, drying down into a deep, complex patchouli-dominated accord, but it has its own distinct character, much of which I suspect is due to the weird combination of shriveled prune and frankincense.

Pure Malt is subtle and smooth, and primarily a skin scent. Typically, skin scents are a pass for me. But I'm reaching for Pure Malt a lot, and I think this has to do with the fact that, though subtle, it projects in a curious way, wafting up as a glass of whiskey might from the tabletop. You can't beat the price. 70 bucks for 3.4 ounces is some kind of miracle for a new fragrance these days, even at Victoria's Secret. I'm not sure I would have spent more on Pure Malt, but I'm happy with it. The smell puts a smile on my face. It smells like a classic men's cologne but, like Histoires de Parfums' sublime 1740, it manages to transcend the category without trashing it. Far removed from the library, Pure Malt calls to mind a good pint of lager, fireside at the pub, the very faint smell of cigar in the background, a smoked aroma coming off the nearby grill, and not altogether unpleasant trace odors of the dog someone left tied to the tree outside. That's a fantasy I can wrap my mind around.

Bring on the Earthy Scents

My partner-in-crime, Brian, who co-writes I Smell Therefore I Am with me, is the best because he puts up with my incessant emails about perfume. I’ve noticed, from reading the email threads back and forth between the two of us that my taste in perfume has begun to change. I wonder if this happens to other perfume-addicts? Eight years ago I would never have longed to wear Tabac Blond, Bandit, Frederic Malle Musc Ravageur or Serge Lutens Iris Silver Mist. Heck, even three years ago I probably would have considered Caron’s Narcisse Noir slightly unusual, whereas I now think of it as a pretty little number. I emailed Brian recently to tell him that lately all I want are deep, dark, earthy perfumes with loads of vetiver, balsam, sandalwood, tobacco, leather, ambergris and patchouli. Underworld by Soivohle’ is a current holy grail. The Different Company’s Sel de Vetiver has been making me swoon all summer long. Hermes’ Eau des Merveilles, has been a favorite for a few years now and I love the ambergris note. Avignon, Kyoto and actually all five from the Comme des Garcons incense series are the sort of scents I crave now. Perhaps this is a normal reaction from becoming bored with all my citrusy, clean, light florals for the summer. Or maybe it’s a contrariness I've developed because perfume offerings have been dominated by fruity-floral-cocktails for so long. Oh, and how could I forget Mousse de Chine by Ava Luxe (previously known as Moss) and Madame X. It surprises me that I love Montale’s Black Aoud, but I do, and lately all I want to smell is the earthy stuff.

The indies saved violet for me: three reviews

In one of my first blog entries, I made a list of the notes that I like and dislike. Among my dislikes was violet. My co-writer, Brian, happens to be a lover of anything violet, and mostly due to his enthusiasm for the note, I’ve tested several violet perfumes over the past few months.

For me, the indie perfumers make the most beautiful violet fragrances. I completely understand Brian's adoration of violet when I smell Ava Luxe Midnight Violet, Neil Morris’ Spectral Violet and Liz Zorn’s Domino Viole’. To a lesser extent, Serge Lutens has created a more-interesting-than-mainstream violet, Bois de Violette, but Lutens’ violet doesn’t thrill me, it’s all cedar with one tiny violet plopped in.

I’ll describe these gorgeous indie violets in alphabetical order – no favorite amongst them – they’re all beautiful and different:

Ava Luxe Midnight Violet – Midnight Violet was my first violet love. Serena Franco has created an amazing juxtaposition of light and dark, yin and yang, masculine and feminine in this fragrance. Ms. Franco takes violet, which is normally an uber feminine, sweet and powdery note and envelopes it in a forest of deep intense green with hemlocks, cedar, sandalwood and moonlight dancing upon mossy knolls. Midnight Violet is not cold, dirty or heavy on the skin; it’s just deep with emotion and imagination.

Spectral Violet by Neil Morris – Spectral Violet is, to my nose, the closest to a traditional violet fragrance. Mr. Morris, however, has removed everything I previously disliked about violet fragrances, and added a lovely complexity and dryness to the violet note. What I didn’t like about violet perfumes in the past, is that they were usually too sweet & cloying to the point of syrupy and always very powdery. Spectral violet is a sweet little candied violet that is balanced by being rested upon a bed of sandalwood, musk and vetiver. I love being able to enjoy an obviously violet perfume without all the powder puff sweetness. Spectral Violet has nice lasting power and just enough sillage for those close to you to smell it. Spectral Violet is just beautiful.

Soivohle’ Domino Viole’ – Domino Viole’, like Midnight Violet, is another deep and mysterious violet. Liz Zorn is the perfumer behind Soivohle’ and she has encased violet inside a gauzy cloud of incensey balsamic notes. Domino Viole’ is, if possible, both sharp and smooth as butter. The balsamic note is stunning and works magic when combined with the violet and green notes. Domino Viole’ is the least “violet-y” to my nose, but it’s still there, and it’s most likely what gives the balsamic, incense and green notes a lovely sweet pillow to perch upon.

Very soon I’ll be sampling two violet fragrances from Sonoma Scent Studio....can't wait.

Tribute to the Indies

I'd like to express my gratitude for the indie perfumers. I’m focusing on the indies, not the niche perfumers, who seem to be an entirely separate category. Niche perfumers are usually well-funded and spend much of their production budget on sexy packaging, designs and bottle labels. The true indies, are usually one-woman/one-man acts, who are seriously passionate about fragrance. Most indie perfumers, to me, seem more adventurous than any large perfume house. They might have little financial backing but they are willing to take risks, because the juxtaposition of scents intrigues them. I love that indie perfumers aren’t necessarily concerned with what’s trendy, what the “it” note is that year (pink pepper!). I imagine indie perfumers to create what they think will be interesting.

To illustrate this point, an article in the New York Times from a few years back quotes Beth Terry responding to a question about the livelihood of an indie perfumer:

“….it’s not an empress's ransom, exactly, but enough to fuel a perfumer's creative vision.
I don't want to rule the world; I just want to keep experimenting.'' Recently, balmy spring days made her think of sangría. ''Don't you love that smell? Wouldn't you like to bottle it?'' Ms. Terry asked. '' I think I will,'' she said.

Being able to create and bottle up whatever they please, is what allows many indie perfumers to make some unusual and stunning fragrances. Take, for example, Midnight Violet by Ava Luxe. Until I smelled Midnight Violet, I didn’t like violet scents. Ava Luxe (Ms. Serena Franco) took violets, and removed all the syrupy sweet powdery-ness and placed those delicate blue & purple flowers in a dense forest of damp earth, balsam, hemlocks, cedar and the dark of night. It’s as if she combined yin and yang, masculine and feminine, day and night into one fragrance. Violet is almost exclusively associated with uber-feminine girly perfumes. And earthy, balsam, cedar scents are most often associated with traditionally masculine fragrances. Ava Luxe has married the two and it works like a Shakespearian sonnet. I don’t mean to focus solely on Ava Luxe, I have a whole slew of indie perfumers that I’d to honor by listing them here but Midnight Violet sticks out for me because this is the perfume that allowed me to finally appreciate violet.

Here are the indie perfumes that I’m familiar with, I’m sure there are others, but let’s give a big round of applause for:

Aftelier
Aroma M
Ava Luxe
Black Phoenix Alchemy Lab (memorable website)
Creative Universe by Beth Terry
Dawn Spencer Hurwitz
Keiko Mecheri
Mandrake Apothecary
Michael Storer
Neil Morris (just discovered this week, where have I been?)
Possets Perfume
Sonoma Scent Studio
Soivohle' by Liz Zorn (adding on 7/15/08, Gail pointed this out to me in her comment and I knew I had forgotten someone!)
Strange Invisible Perfumes (SIP is now being carried at Barneys, is SIP still indie?)
Tauer Perfumes (Andy Tauer has hit it big time, Aedes de Venustas is now carrying his line, so can we still consider him an indie?!)

I’d love to know of more indies, I know this is a short list. I have questions next to some because they’re now being carried at exclusive shops and I wonder if this will take away their indie status and potentially impact their creativity?