L.T. Piver Heliotrope Blanc

A few weeks ago I was googling around for a good heliotrope perfume and came across a thread on Perfume of Life about L.T. Piver Heliotrope Blanc. I had never heard of L.T. Piver. It turns out, Piver has been around since 1774, and is a well regarded perfume company in Europe, but isn’t well known in the U.S. I found it Heliotrope Blanc at Escentual.com, in the UK. I’ve always enjoyed fragrances with a heliotrope note but never tried a heliotrope soliflore. I ordered Etro Heliotrope from Aedes last month but it’s on backorder and I haven’t received it yet.

I’ve been curious about heliotrope for several years now. Usually there’s a quality about heliotrope-heavy fragrances that I adore. For instance, I love People of the Labyrinths Luctor et Emergo but this is a cherry gourmand rendition of heliotrope. Barbara Bui, a recent love of mine, also has a strong heliotrope quality. The classic Guerlain Apres L’Ondee is prominently heliotrope as well as some mimosa fragrances like Parfum de Nicolai Mimosaique and Caron Farnesiana.

This heliotrope curiosity led me to plant it in my garden a few years back. Heliotrope flowers are either white or purple so I planted both. The actual flowers are intoxicating. Heliotrope is one of those unmistakeably sweet aromas, similar in it’s striking uniqueness, but not in smell to honeysuckle, lily of the valley and lilacs. White heliotrope is the more floral of the two heliotrope flowers. The white flowers are baby powder soft and sweet but not almondy or cherry-like. Finding a perfume that resembled the white heliotrope has been on my to-do list for some time.

L.T. Piver Heliotrope Blanc is exactly what I’ve been looking for. I’m head over heels smitten with this stuff. Heliotrope Blanc is delicate, powdery and cozy, but it also has a sexy sweet side that seems much more wearable than the cherry almond variety. Heliotrope Blanc initially makes me think of marshmallows dusted with talcum powder served next to a vase of white heliotrope flowers. It is sheer and transparent so I simply bathe in it. If you apply a lot, it lasts close to the skin for quite some time.

For anyone out there salivating at the idea of Heliotrope Blanc, please leave a comment, and I will draw one lucky person who will win a 5 ml decant of it. The drawing will close on Sunday, September 6th and I’ll announce the winner on Monday, September 7th.

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

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.