What a fascinating find — according to Town and Country Magazine, Betony now has a Coco Chanel cocktail on the menu, with Lillet, bergamot, and Champagne, with a Chanel No. 5-infused spearmint garnish.
I will generally fall for anything related to Chanel no. 5 (except maybe for its not-particularly-interesting-to-me flanker, Eau Première, but you never know for sure). So if I manage to make it to New York this year and it’s still on the menu, I promise to try it and report back. Any takers in NYC? Please let us know how it tastes!
Los Angeles is in the middle of a withering heat wave — the kind that makes me only want to come out at night — and all I can think about is cable knits and trench coats, hot mulled apple cider, crisp breezes, and all things autumnal. Lucky people live in places where the weather is just starting to cool, and the stores are already breaking out the ubiquitous plasticky pumpkin flavored everything, but here the sun beats down relentlessly and the temperatures are steady at 100° F with no end in sight.
So what do you do when you’re ready to bring out the deep, dark, mysterious Oriental perfumes and settle into your cashmere cowl neck, but the heat won’t break? Sometimes perfume is too much altogether, and you’re just in no mood for citrus, or tropical florals, or anything else in the world but autumn spice.
L’Occitane’s Vanille & Narcisse Body Milk has been getting me through the days. It’s the equivalent of silk stockings – the vanilla is cool and smooth, much like the airy Vanille Insensee by Atelier Cologne, but with a subtle, pervasive wood lurking underneath. Maybe cedar, or a touch of sandalwood – I can’t put my finger on it, but it’s a powdery wood with a cinnamon-like heat to it. This body milk is so potently scented that a little smoothed on the legs in the morning will give a light scent to last the day. I would even wear a dab on each wrist in lieu of perfume. It’s cooling in the heat, like a luxurious dusting powder, but spicy and warm as well.
The nights bring out my craving for something seriously vampy, and the night I went to see the fantastic Sin City: A Dame to Kill For, I discovered that one of my favorite heavy hitters not only matched the dark, gritty glamour of the movie, but also didn’t kill us all in the outrageous heat of the night.
L’Agent by Agent Provocateur is a seriously dark and feminine oriental that reminds me in character of older Orientals like Mustde Cartier and Paloma Picasso, and the sleaker, more citified Donna Karan New York in the black and gold swan bottle from the early 90s – all complex rosewood and pie spices with hints of leather and a streak of green. But the old familiar Orientals like these and the more traditional Shalimar, Opium, and Obsession, are relentless and sickly sweet in any kind of heat because they rest on a traditional base of amber and vanilla.
Instead, l’Agent relies on a pervasive, smoky incense that characterizes the entire composition, beginning to end. It’s not one of the ubiquitous genderless incenses that are popular right now. This incense, while smoky, is kid-glove soft and struts in on stilettos, and if you’re close enough, you can smell her expensive lipstick and face powder, a hint of fabric softener, and hints of her boyfriend’s vetiver cologne. L’Agent is all woman. And it works in the heat because, as they say, it’s not the heat, it’s the humidity. Where other Orientals can suffocate with their swampy sweetness in warm temperatures, l’Agent is a dry heat. L’Agent in the heat of September in Los Angeles is like the forboding relief that comes with the Santa Anas.
I have been living in sunny Los Angeles for a couple of years now, and this city never ceases to surprise me with its hidden charms. There’s a curious building next door to Scent Bar that I’ve noticed every time I’ve been, and I’ve only just discovered its story today.
Hollywood is full of adorable character houses that make it seem as though a tornado scattered miniature castles, ranches, and even whole Dutch villas intact across the area, like Dorothy’s house into the crazy Oz that is Los Angeles. Apparently, according to Claire Pettibone, the bridal designer whose flagship storefront now inhabits the space, this tiny little castle was built in 1928 in the Late Gothic Revival and Romanesque style for the muralist Anthony Heinsbergen. The interior is really something! It’s worth checking out the gallery on their website. Her bridal designs are an absolute treasure as well.
Upon further inspection, I discovered a surprise inside the fountain pictured in the front.
Scent Bar
A quick note of praise for Scent Bar, where I spent a delightful Sunday afternoon today. If you didn’t know, Scent Bar is the storefront for Lucky Scent, a remarkable resource for imported and niche line perfumes that you simply can’t find most places. They also sell samples on the online store. I always stop and smell the roses along the sidewalk before going in.
Every one of the staff is respectful of your solitude if you want to peruse the choices for an eon on your own, and just as happy to chat about fragrance for a half hour and show you everything in the shop. I always do both. Steve even sent me home today with a list of the stations they played on Pandora.
I could write a novel about each visit, but today I wanted to showcase one of the new lines they have in.
Oriza L. Legrand
Today I had the pleasure of checking out the Oriza L. Legrand line, new to Scent Bar this spring. According to the Lucky Scent website, this line has been around since 1720. I’ve never heard of it, and I’ve been a fragrance nerd for about fifteen years. At the risk of putting my foot in my mouth, I wonder if this is yet another line that erroneously claims an historic legacy that’s iffy at best. The fragrances are incredible and the bottles are exquisite, so I will forgive them if in fact their claim to legacy is embellished.
The olfactory commonality the perfumes in this line share is an impression of loads of real, natural raw materials and a bright quality that’s not muddled like most newer fragrance lines. These smell complex. If most modern fragrances are different smells blended into a smooth mousse, this line leaves its components intact with their raw, natural textures.
One of the things I enjoy about going to Scent Bar is trying fragrances without preconceived notions of their notes. That way my nose can work without competing with my imagination.
All of these reviews were written blind, before I read the official copy, with no idea of the prices or materials used.
Relique d’Amour
100 ml ($165)
Blind Sniff:
Relique d’Amour smells to me like fresh pond water. I smell absolutely none of the notes described in perfumery as “aquatic” or “ozonic,” which refer to synthetic materials responsible for “fresh” scents like Acqua Di Gio, Cool Water, and L’eau d’Issey, which smell nothing like water to me anyhow. No, this is the smell of ponds and slow streams in a lush, green wooded area, with subtle wafts of algae, wildflowers, and damp earth. This is a scent for a water nymph.
Frankincense often smells like fresh ginger to me, and I imagine that’s what gives this exhaltant fragrance a bright, spicy, hot-cold ginger kick. Not candied or medicinal, this reminds me of the warm scent that fills my home when I toss a big hunk of fresh ginger in a pan of boiling water (a great cold remedy), only more sparkling and alive. With its heat and its coolness, I think this would suit the dead heat of summer as well as chilly fall and winter nights. Less subtle and candied than Serge Lutens 5 O’Clock Gingembre, and far spicier than the cool Origins Ginger Essence, I think Reve d’Ossian would be my first choice for a ginger fragrance.
I honestly didn’t know what to make of this oeillet, and if it didn’t have the French for carnation in its name I’m not sure I would have known that this was a carnation fragrance. Other carnations smell like a dark spicy rose with touches of cinnamon and greenish geranium and a slightly oily quality. This one is far lighter and more sparkling than that. I’m sure this has a very high concentration of natural materials. Most floral compounds take on a much more rooty, earthy quality than their cleaner, smoother synthetic counterparts, and this one is no exception, but its earthiness lifts, rather than grounds it. This smells natural enough to be something Louis XV might conceivably have worn, but not something I recognize as well with a nose acclimated to more synthetic perfumery.
Listed Notes:
Pink pepper, mandarin, white carnation, carnation absolute, white orchid, iris, rose, spicy clove, rice powder, white musk, white honey, woody notes.
Chypre Mousse
100 ml ($165)
Blind Sniff:
Heavy on the sandalwood! At first sniff, I could tell this has real, high quality sandalwood. My nose picks up on a very oily, nutty quality from sandalwood that’s very similar to freshly ground roasted peanuts, and I can tell immediately when a fragrance has it. After that, I get a bit of something like smooth hay and flour – maybe acacia, and then fennel, and then a rich smell of ink, which is a bit salty and deep, and otherwise very hard to describe if you’ve never filled a fountain pen or replaced a typewriter ribbon. But it’s an inky smell in keeping with the traditional mousse de saxe accords popular in the early half of the 20th century, and which is still present to a somewhat corrupted degree in Caron’s classic Nuit de Noël.
Listed Notes:
Wild mint, clary sage, wild fennel, green shoots, oakmoss, galbanum, angelica, fern, wild clover, violet leaves, vetiver, pine needles, oak moss, mushroom, humus, roasted chestnut leather, labdanum.
**After reading the notes, I wonder if what I thought was sandalwood is the roasted chestnut.
Deja le Printemps
100 ml ($165)
Blind Sniff:
Sigh. Late Spring in New England. I’m sure that much of France has the same flora as New England, because the French seem to be nostalgic about the same flowers as North Eastern Americans are. Lilac for one, is a May tradition in both regions, with lilac festivals celebrating hundreds of heirloom varieties cultivated over the centuries. But I digress. Deja Printemps has the same pond water smell as Relique d’Amour, but also an orchestra of spring blossoms that smell not like a bouquet of flowers, but like the lush air on a warm spring day in full bloom, carrying the pollen of thousands of flowers along with fresh water and new leaf buds. This really smells like the real thing, not like an artist’s interpretation of it. I was so carried away, I felt disoriented. Nothing in this desert climate smells like that, and it really took me back to my hometown in Massachusetts.
Listed Notes:
Mint, orange blossom, daisy, fig leaves, clover, grass cutting, lily of the valley, galbanum, musk, vetiver, cedar, moss.
Foin Fraichment Coupe
100 ml ($125)
Blind Sniff:
Wow. This is a pressed half lemon, rind and all, muddled with wintergreen leaves, freshly picked. If there was ever a natural, refreshing summer fragrance, this is it.
Listed Notes:
Angelique, star anise & wild mint, clover, sainfoin, new-mown-hay & clary sage, dry hay, white musk, cockle & ivy.
Horizon:
100 ml ($165)
Blind Sniff:
At first sniff, Horizon was very hard for me to comprehend. It’s a huge red bouquet, and I couldn’t tease the notes out. But as it settled, it became a warm, somewhat sweet cinnamon and clove oil scent that reminded me of old fashioned potpourri and the clove oil you would rub on your gums to numb a toothache. Of course it’s much more refined than that, but with my associations, I’m not sure this is one I could appreciate.
I’ve smelled quite a few lily-of-the-valley scents in my day, as it was my mother’s favorite when I was a little girl. Especially with the new restrictions in place, most lily of the valley scents come off with bitter, sharp, or ozonic qualities that make these scents really unpleasant to me. Muguet Fleuri’s interpretation is quite true to the flower, and has none of the offending qualities that turn me off to the note. This is actually quite charming, and if you love lily-of-the-valley and are unsatisfied with reformulations of fragrances that showcase the note, this is definitely one to try.
Listed Notes:
Green leaves, wild grass, wild muguet, galbanum, angelica, violet leaves, muguet des bois, lily of the valley, oakmoss.
Jardins d’Armide
100 ml ($165)
Blind Sniff:
This one is another bouquet that’s hard to tease apart, and that just has a character all its own. The most distinctive notes that I pick up in it are something like anise seed and maybe acacia, which gives it a slight floury almond scent. It’s a complex scent that I don’t think I could do justice to on first sniff, so this is just an impression. Like everything else in the line, the quality of materials makes this far more than the sum of its parts.
Listed Notes:
Rose, orange blossom, iris powder, florentine Iris, wild violet, wisteria, carnation from India, honey, almond, tonka bean, musk.
Well, I’ve managed to neglect my brand new blog, but I have returned! Life had a couple of changes in store for me and getting acclimated to a new job took over my life for the past couple of months.
I’m back, though, and I have a few fun things to post about. I will finish my Twin Peaks series as well in due course. Happy Sunday!
Netflix added Twin Peaks to their online streaming menu this winter, and I, along with thousands of other viewers, consumed the entire two-year series once again, in one gluttonous month. The dream logic and subconscious imagery of Twin Peaks inhabits the same moody shadow world of imagination layered over reality that also influences my personal love of fragrance. I was inspired by all the rich imagery and compelling characters to write a series of perfume reviews based on the most memorable characters in the series.
If you haven’t seen it, Twin Peaks is a brilliant gem of surrealist television that aired for two seasons on ABC in 1990 and ’91. The story surrounds the murder of teenaged Laura Palmer in a remote northern Washington state mill town. Twin Peaks brought David Lynch to the mainstream public audience, and has continued to haunt the imagination of cult audiences ever since. Visually, the series is a work of art, and the metaphysical murder mystery showcases Lynch’s bizarre, surrealist vision, derivative of film noir detective stories and 1950s film and television tropes layered with quirky humor, Eastern philosophy, and clues in the form of nightmarish apparitions.
Audrey Horne
Played by the delightful Sherilyn Fenn, Audrey Horne is quite the enterprising ingénue. Daughter of business magnate and owner of the Great Northern Hotel, Audrey, just 18, is poised on the edge between mischievous youth, and strong, business-minded adulthood. Her intellectual and creative resourcefulness makes her a strong match for her particular crush, Special Agent Dale Cooper, who just arrived in town to solve the death of her own classmate Laura Palmer. Audrey displays a naïve fearlessness in her brazen pursuit of Agent Cooper that makes her all the more charming.
An exciting moment for any perfumista occurs in the third episode, when Agent Cooper says “Audrey, that perfume you’re wearing is incredible.” What perfume did Audrey Horne wear to inspire such a compliment?
Lou Lou by Cacharel (1987)
I can easily see Audrey in this delightfully quirky vanilla chypre that was quite popular at the time. They still manufacture the scent, though from what I hear it’s hardly recognizable anymore. I recently had the opportunity to wear the original Lou Lou again, and it has much of Audrey’s charming quirkiness.
Lou Lou gives off a strong impression of vanilla with a floury heliotrope accord. In other fragrances, heliotrope can lean toward smelling like Play-Doh®, or paste, but in Lou Lou, it’s a rich, flour-like floral that gives off a vaguely vanillic aura. But it’s not just vanilla – Lou Lou is deepened with hints of leather and woods, cedar, a touch of animalic amber, and languid florals. This is definitely one of those perfumes that is its own scent, rather than being a blend of other, discernable notes. It all comes together in the deep, but innocently hypnotic aura of Lou Lou that compliments Audrey’s passionate and charming side.
Paloma Picasso Mon Parfum (1984)
Before the reformulations turned the floral component of this beautiful fragrance into a bitter, screechy mess, Paloma Picasso was a rich spicy herbal chypre fragrance with brains and tenderness. Its coriander, oakmoss, and spicy herbal verdancy compliments the bold clarity of Audrey’s resourcefulness, precocious businesslike nature, and curiosity, while the nutmeg and rose blended with honey and a gentle patchouli match her warm femininity. Subtle mimosa and bright citrus highlight her youthfulness. Paloma Picasso also had a rich, loamy quality to it that echoes the pine forest setting of Twin Peaks.
Dior Addict (2002)
I am cheating here, as Addict obviously wasn’t around in 1990 when Twin Peaks aired. However, every time I wear it I can’t help but to think that if it were around back then, Addict might have been Audrey’s idea of a romantic and distinctive fragrance. The ad campaign for Addict is outrageously sexed up, and the fragrance hardly warrants the pornish images. Addict is sensual nonetheless, and unusual, though still easy to wear.
Actually, the Addict that I’m thinking of is the 2011 reformulation. If you smelled it before then, you’re probably familiar with the piercing, watery white floral vanilla with sugary, fruity overtones. Buried underneath that was a woody incense base. I know I’m not the only one who suffered blinding headaches from that opening aquatic white floral accord, although there are people who still love and search for the old formulation. For reference, the bottle on the left is the older one, and the one on the right is the reformulated version.
The 2011 reformulation lopped off most of the white florals and the sugary Fruit Loops accord. Reminiscent of Lou Lou, Addict has a heliotrope boosted vanilla that also borrows the heavy-lidded tonka, heliotrope, and vanilla aura of Shalimar. Perfumes are a lot sweeter now than they were back in the Twin Peaks days, but Addict isn’t as sweet as the majority of the vanillas out there now, and the only fruitiness you’ll find is in a mere hint of the Sugarplum Fairy variety, tempered by a pinch of peppery basil and something that smells a little like raw silk. Addict is a smooth, glowing vanilla that reminds me of a halo of blue-violet light.
But the magic of Addict is in its rapid morph, about a half hour after application, into an abstract smooth woody base with aloeswood incense – the nice, clean-burning Japanese variety. The base of Addict still retains a lot of its vanilla top notes, making it an easy-to-wear charmer, but with the quirkiness of a weird and wonderfully unique dark, woody incense. For a mass-market fragrance, Addict is rather distinctive, with dark elements and dreamy, David Lynch style, subconscious overtones.
Although not very sweet by today’s standards, Addict is certainly a sweet vanilla fragrance as compared with what was around in 1990. I think that vanilla would appeal to the kid in Audrey. Dior Addict and Audrey both exist in that liminal space between mischievous teenaged sweater girl, and the headstrong and clever femme fatale she aspires to become.
Okay, I’ve got a thing about a lot of things. But even as a kid, scented soap seemed like the most romantic and timeless of basic necessities. Evidence of soap goes back to Babylon in 2,800 BCE, and it remains a worldwide staple.
As a child, I was too young for blush, mascara and nail polish, but of course, I could use soap with abandon. Even as I grew into high heels and makeup, I continued to collect bars of every kind. They filled up decorative dishes and I stuffed them into bureau drawers to scent my clothes. To this day, my mother has a crystal vase in what is now her guest bathroom, filled with soap I collected from beauty boutiques, long-closed natural food stores, hotels, nursery garden stores, and museum gift shops. There’s something satisfying about the textures, the scents, and the many shapes and types of soap, from natural rough-cut chunks, to fancy, molded bars.
Here are a few of my fanciest favorites:
Mistral
Although Mistral as a company is only 20 years old this year, they take advantage of centuries-old French soap-making techniques from Provence, as well as the famous perfume traditions of Grasse.
Mistral soaps last for a long time. All of them have exquisite fragrances that last to the very last sliver, with an enormous number of fragrance choices.
My favorites are the Pure Iris, Milk, and Wild Blackberry for ladies ($8 for 200g/7oz), and the Teak Wood ($10.50 – 250g/8.8oz) for gentlemen. Their men’s fragrances are really unparalleled. TheTeak Wood scent makes me swoon. It’s not too hard to find Mistral soaps at beauty boutiques in California, and they’re also available online at Mistral’s website.
Blanc Lila
I can’t help it. I grew up in New England. I adore the sweet, nostalgic scent of lilac. Many lilac fragrances verge on cloying, but Blanc Lila soaps are just right. They’re creamy and emollient, charmingly pretty, and well-scented, and available in pretty little boxed sets.
Since lilac blooms in May, they make a fantastic Mother’s Day gift. Personally, I love them any time I pine for springtime.
A quick Google search reveals how widely these soaps are carried by sellers including C.O.Bigelow, The Soap Bar and from a number of sellers on Amazon. A set of four 50g bars generally goes for about $11, or six for around $25.
Claus Porto
These soaps reached cult status when Oprah mentioned them on her “Favorite Things” show in 2007, but Claus Porto had already reached legendary status as one of the oldest and best soap companies in the world. A Portuguese institution founded in 1887, Claus Porto makes some of the creamiest and most luxuriously fragranced soaps. I don’t love all of the fragrances, but they do have a wide variety, and their retro, art deco-inspired packaging is beautiful enough to frame. My favorite is their enormous 12.3oz bar of Tobacco bath soap ($16), with its warm, sweet, almost carob-like tobacco fragrance. Different stores seem to have different stock available, but Claus Porto soaps can be found at Small Flower, Sesto Senso, and Beauty Habit among others.
Rancé
I think Rancé deserves mention since there aren’t a lot of reviews available online. Rancé is a French family soap company out of Milan, Italy. Contrary to what their ad copy suggests, they have not been in continuous operation since 1795, and the products and fragrances are certainly not the same as the ones Rancé proudly reports “were favored by Napolean as well as most of the aristocracy over the last 200 years.”
However, Rancé soaps are luxuriously soft and milky, and their fragrances are lovely, contemporary perfumes. The presentation boxes are just plain exquisite. I will say, though, they’re outrageously priced, the fragrances aren’t as strong as other high-end soaps, and being luxuriously soft, they also melt pretty quickly. I enjoyed the bars I tried, but for the money, there are others I prefer.
Sets are easier to come by online, but single bars and sets can be ordered from Rancé US and A Secret Admirer. The bars are generally 2.3 oz, and single bars range from $10-15, while boxed sets of six go for approximately $50-80. The only place I’ve found Rancé soaps in person is at the fabulous Apthorp Pharmacy at 78th and Broadway, NYC.
Fine Fragrance Perfumed Soaps
Sometimes you can find fine fragrance soaps pretty heavily discounted at some of the perfume discount sites like beautyencounter.com and fragrancenet.com, and it’s fun to try out different ones. Others are high-end perfume counter treats worth checking out despite the high price tags. Here are a few that I adore:
Agent Provocateur original and Maitresse soaps are exquisite, creamy, highly fragranced and ultra feminine. The original fragrance is a classic rosy chypre with a bit of cardamom and patchouli, while Maitresse is an abundantly creamy white floral. I find them on discount sites all the time.
Nothing beats the classic Chanel no. 5 in my book. These are nearly impossible to find discounted, so why not buy it at the Chanel counter for instant gratification and lavish packaging, and the little miniature Chanel mascara they usually throw in as a gift with purchase?
Floris fragrances have been good enough for the British Royals since 1730, and they’re good enough for me. These come in a wide range for men and women, and sometimes you can find them for a discount online.
Jo Malone is another British favorite that received a lot of attention after Kate Middleton (or more accurately Catherine, Duchess of Cambridge) was reported to love the line. Bloomingdales carries the soaps for $18 for 100g, and while pricy for a soap, it’s a more conservative way to enjoy their gorgeous fragrances that go for more than $100 a bottle. I adore their Red Rose scent.
Alright, there are more affordable soaps. But what’s more fun than treating yourself or someone you love to a nice hot sudsy bath with an outrageously nice bar of soap and some good company?
After more than ninety years on the market, Chanel no. 5 remains among the top selling perfumes in the world, and has made a traditional Christmas gift for just about as long. Department stores across the States are already decked out in mistletoe and holly wreaths, and perfume gift sets are piled high by the perfume counters. Just in time for the holiday fragrance sales, Chanel’s new ad reflects the world’s love affair with no. 5 and Marilyn Monroe with a new advertisement that’s equally nostalgic and touching:
This year, in addition to the long list of products in the line, Chanel has launched a new limited edition Chanel no. 5 Intense Bath Oil, and in the US, limited edition holiday gift sets. The Duo Set includes a 3.4 oz. Eau de Parfum Spray and 6.8 oz. Body Lotion ($180), and the Trio Set contains a 1.7 oz. Eau de Parfum Spray, 3.4 oz. Body Lotion and 3.4 oz. Bath Gel ($148).
I have designed this article to serve as a comprehensive buyer’s guide to the different products in the line. This year, however, the fragrance itself has undergone such a transformation that I felt I had to address the changes in this iconic perfume before I could even begin to describe the products.
2013 Marks a New Era for Chanel no. 5
Not Your Grandma’s Perfume
I am deeply saddened to report that 2013 marks the end of an era for Chanel no. 5. There have been numerous warnings on dedicated perfume blogs across the Internet that due to International Fragrance Association (IFRA) and Scientific Committee on Consumer Safety (SCCS) restrictions of various ingredients, Chanel no. 5 and some other iconic fragrances would be rendered unrecognizable or discontinued altogether in 2013. (See one such article here from the esteemed Bois de Jasmin perfume blog). As a devotee of the fragrance for more than fifteen years, I tended to cling naively to the hope that such reports somewhat hysterical and reactionary. I was dead wrong.
When I first sprayed the new eau de toilette generously onto my right arm, my heart began to sink. As I sprayed my left arm with the eau de parfum, my heart sunk even deeper. While both concentrations had always been marked with their famously strong waxy aldehydic sparkle that made Chanel no. 5 distinctive, both are now weak, thin, and utterly flat on application. No aldehydes. Just a watery transparent jasmine. This was particularly startling with the EDP, which used to be a real heavy hitter. The EDP has hardly any throw at all, and was all but gone within two hours. Now Chanel has some of the most talented perfumers in the industry, and they have weathered the changing restrictions remarkably well over the years. And after all, Chanel has exclusive ownership of the best rose and jasmine available. As the heart notes of the new EDT developed on my skin, I felt some of the blood return to my face. The new Chanel no. 5 EDT skips all of the top notes that you’re familiar with, and goes straight for the heart.
If you are buying this for a Chanel no. 5 diehard, you can probably get your hands on older stock from a reputable source (please be very careful, and with Ebay in particular – Chanel fragrances are very often faked). For those new to the fragrance, or who were ambivalent about the aldehydic opening, you may be glad to know that although the EDT’s top notes are gone, the heart of the fragrance remains close to the previous versions and still exquisite.
This is no longer the no. 5 that I know and love, but it is still develops into possibly the most gorgeous jasmine-rose floral fragrance on the market. I imagine that I now feel how legions of older dames must have felt when they first tried on the version that I fell in love with in the 1990s. After all, back before earlier restrictions took place in the 1970s and 80s, Chanel no. 5 was made with real ambergris, civet musk, nitro musks, and whopping doses of bergamot and oakmoss, all severely restricted or outlawed by the time I bought my first bottle. I have bottles of Chanel no. 5 that date back to the 1950s, and they’re exquisite masterpieces of fragrance, but bear only a family resemblance to the no. 5 that I grew up with.
The Perfume
CHANEL N° 5 PARFUM
0.25 OZ. ($120)
0.5 OZ. ($200)
1 OZ. ($325)
7.5 OZ. ($2,100) . . . yes, really.
30 OZ. ($4,200) . . . just in case you need to scent your swimming pool!
The parfum concentration is no. 5 in its original form. Launched in 1921 by Coco at her atelier in Paris, it’s still considered an icon of luxury and indulgence, as it was then. First-time parfum buyers might be shocked by the tiny size of the bottle compared to the high price tag, but it’s a highly concentrated fragrance. It’s dabbed, not sprayed, and a small dab of the fragrance should wear for a good dozen hours, though won’t have as much throw as lighter concentrations. The parfum that I have from 2012 is hardly changed from how I remember it from the 1990s, though sadly, weaker. The newest 2013 version that I’ve been testing is weaker still in the top notes, but still true to the unparalleled ylang ylang jasmine and rose composition that signifies its heart.
The pre-2013 parfum is distinctive in its strength and opulence. It is sparkling with glacial, snowy aldehydes, and an enormously smooth and beautiful ylang ylang, a tropical flower that can smell in turns like jasmine, vanilla flower, and a smooth banana just before it’s ripe. Then comes the magical heart of jasmine and rose that give way to a base of soft vanilla and gentle, sweet musk with hints of a dirty sandalwood and a synthetic civet musk that smells for all the world like the real thing, and gives it a very distinctive, warm and primal base that reminds me of the animalic smell of a real fur coat.
The new 2013 parfum has lost its cool aldehydic sparkle, and the opening is now far quieter and showcases the languid, tropical ylang ylang. The rest of the fragrance is still intact, all the way down to the base.
Worn conservatively, the parfum is a very subtle luxury. Worn liberally, the parfum is the most extravagant concentration of all the no. 5 line, and goes well with a night at the opera, or a Michelin starred restaurant with pearls and a gown. This has “classic” written all over it, and is probably suited to a lady who would feel perfectly comfortable having tea at the Ritz, or going to a red carpet event in Cannes.
The parfum now also comes in a purse spray, making it far simpler to transport than the classic glass stopper bottle.
CHANEL N° 5 EAU DE PARFUM
1.2 OZ. ($74)
1.7 OZ. ($98)
3.4 OZ. ($130)
The pre-2013 formulation of the EDP was the least popular concentration among true no. 5 devotees. It was launched in 1986, and included a pretty heavy dose of a synthetic sandalwood that was used in a lot of perfumes of the 80s, giving it a somewhat dated feel. I loved it for its massive blizzard of bright white aldehydes and jasmine that wore like fresh snow on fur lined mittens. I hated it for its oily synthetic sandalwood and its tendency to go sour and metallic, like tarnished brass.
The new 2013 EDP remains, once again, the least attractive pick in the lineup. It went on with a thin and airy jasmine. While it eventually develops into a very subtle, sweet and powdery-cool jasmine in the style of Chanel no. 5 as I know it, the fragrance had very little throw, and after the second hour, I could only detect it very lightly on my skin with my nose glued to my wrist. I’ve tried it a few times, on different days from different tester bottles, incredulous to the idea that Chanel could put out a product this weak and call it an EDP. This concentration is supposed to be fairly strong, somewhere between the lighter EDT and the mother of all, parfum. I regretfully have to declare this product was a complete dud for me, and I’m very curious to find out if others will have the same experience with it. This jus would have been better marketed as a light eau de cologne or body mist.
CHANEL N° 5 EAU DE TOILETTE
1.2 OZ. ($65)
1.7 OZ. ($78)
3.4 Oz. ($105)
The pre-2013 EDT formulation is my favorite concentration, close in spirit to the parfum, but much more wearable. Its aldehydes are gentle, and feel fluffy and effervescent, rather than cold. It gives an impression of the spray that comes off a pink grapefruit as you peal the rind, and has a languid, fleshy, nearly tropical ylang ylang, and unparalleled jasmine and rose.
Chanel has cultivated possibly the most delectable jasmine and rose to ever grace perfumery in its own fields in Grasse, for exclusive use in Chanel perfumes. Their rose de mai has a jammy and sweet profile, and their jasmine is perfectly clear, with none of the bitterness or heady “indoles” that make jasmine heavy compositions difficult for some people to wear. A hint of oakmoss gives the EDT a powdery green feel reminiscent of old-school Barbasol shaving cream, and sets off the florals like a contrasting background color of cool jade.
The new 2013 version out goes on insipid and flat, with a sorry, watery jasmine, but then redeems itself as it blooms into a floral heart nearly identical to the one I love so dearly. The heart is now a bit heavier on the rose than jasmine, and smells like a very luxurious lipstick scent. The oddity of this new version is that in most aldehydic fragrances, the aldehydes are the first part of the fragrance to fade. In this one, the aldehydes are non-existent in the topnotes, but they do lend a light fluffiness to the heart of the fragrance.
There are people out there who associate the opening aldehydic jasmine notes of Chanel no. 5 with older ladies who have been wearing the scent since its popularity in Marilyn’s era and long before. I imagine those who feel uncomfortable wearing no. 5 for that reason might find the newer version more to their taste. Personally, I couldn’t give a damn who else wore it, the aldehydic top notes were exquisite, and I will mourn their loss. The new formulation is beautiful, thought, and although much lighter, it’s still an exquisite powdery rose that epitomizes elegance and old Hollywood boudoir glamour.
CHANEL N° 5 EAU PREMIÈRE
1.35 OZ. ($64)
2.5 OZ. ($88)
5 OZ. ($125
No. 5 Eau Première came on the market in 2007 as the “updated” version of no. 5 for those who didn’t like the aldehydic, “old-fashioned” aspects of the original fragrance. I never considered it to really be a part of the no. 5 lineup at all because its notes are pretty drastically different from “real” no. 5. It’s a lovely fragrance in its own right, but to call it no. 5 is like calling a nice pink cotton bra and kickers a “version” of a La Perla eyelash lace basque and garter set. Now that the top has been lopped off of the eau de toilette, and eau première has been adjusted a bit as well, they have a lot more in common with each other.
The pre-2013 version isn’t all that different from the 2013 version out right now, though it is now weaker and less sparkling at the top. They both open with a nice, refreshing and pithy lemon that reminds me of Sanpellegrino Limonata, and settle in to a lemony, light jasmine with hints of rose on a fuzzy, sweet musk base.
The musk in both eau première and in the sensual elixir is remarkable in that it reminds me very much of the old delicious, but neurotoxic nitro musks that were in the original Chanel no. 5 and have been banned since the early nineties. Unlike all the other contemporary musks I’ve smelled, this one is sweet but not cloying, and has neither the clean, soapy quality nor the usual milky smell that makes my stomach turn. It also lacks the laundry-sheet musk smell that’s ubiquitous in everything from perfume to household cleaners these days. It’s a warm, sweet, kittenish musk that reminds me of rubbing soft fur against my cheek. Eau Première is like a fluffy lemon meringue musk with hints of no. 5 throughout.
CHANEL N° 5 SENSUAL ELIXIR
1.7 Oz. ($68)
The sensual elixir was introducedin 2004, and was clearly the olfactory predecessor of eau première. Sensual Elixir was introduced as a new way to wear Chanel no. 5. It’s perfume in a silky silicone base, and feels something like a hair serum. Somewhat of an unusual way to wear perfume for sure, but it’s really lovely nonetheless. I always get lots of compliments on it, which proves its projection as well as its popular appeal, but at the same time, it’s never loud the way that alcohol based perfumes can be. Sensual elixir smells just like eau première, but with only a touch of the citrus top notes that lend it a lifted sparkle. It’s all sexy, fuzzy, kitten musk with rose and jasmine, from top to bottom.
The Bath Products
In addition to the products described in detail below, Chanel currently offers:
CHANEL N° 5 THE CLEANSING CREAM ($50 6.8 oz)
CHANEL N° 5 VELVET BODY CREAM ($80 150 g)
CHANEL N° 5 AFTER BATH POWDER ($65 5 oz)
And outside of the US (Europe, Mexico, and Canada):
CHANEL N° 5 THE HAIR MIST
CHANEL N° 5 THE SPRAY DEODORANT
CHANEL N° 5 INTENSE BATH OIL (limited edition)
8.4 OZ. ($100)
Believe it or not, at $100 for a gigantic 8.5 ounces, this stuff is a steal. It wears like a perfume, and smells very much like the sexy, musky sensual elixir, but with a richer, rosier heart, and no noticeable citrus at all.
Chanel no. 5 bath oil has come and gone and come again many times over many decades, and it still comes back every once in a while as a limited edition for the holiday season. I once read that after a childhood of poverty and displacement, Marilyn Monroe finally felt successful when she could afford to use real Chanel no. 5 in her bath. After having my heart broken by the changes to the actual no. 5 perfumes this year, this limited edition bath oil is my one consolation. You could add it to bath water for a luxurious treat, but why waste it that way when you could dab it on as a fragrance? Plenty of people do just that, and this year’s formulation is plenty strong enough for it.
As a gift, this oil is a real, luxurious treat, and limited edition products do make great gifts. Although, if the recipient isn’t particularly a perfume or Chanel fanatic, she might be confused as to how to use it, particularly if she doesn’t have a bathtub. So know her well – if she’s a Chanel girl at heart, or knows her way around old-fashioned bath products, this is probably a good bet.
CHANEL N° 5 THE BODY LOTION
6.8 OZ. ($50)
The body lotion has undergone changes as well. The older version had a very bright opening that reminded me very much of vitamin C tablets I took every morning before school as a kid. It was heavy on the jasmine, and had a sparkling, vivid quality.
The new body lotion goes on with a strange, sharp note, but that fades almost immediately into a gentle and extremely elegant rose and jasmine fragrance. It isn’t nearly as heavily scented as the older version, but I actually find it more refined and luxurious. The roses really shine in this lotion, and the fragrance isn’t overpowering.
CHANEL N° 5 THE FOAMING BATH
6.8 OZ. ($65)
I can’t comment on the performance of this in the bathtub, but if it’s anything like the older foaming bath, it will give you exquisite, soft foamy suds that last for quite a while as bubble baths go. I only smelled this from the bottle at the Chanel counter (repeatedly, deeply, and on multiple occasions), but the newer fragrance is an exquisite, refined blast of the highest quality jasmine and rosy musk.
This is probably the most luxurious of all of the products if only because it’s the least useful. I can’t imagine the fragrance will last on skin for very long after the bath. This would make a great gift for any floral fragrance lover with a bathtub who would never think to buy something so exceedingly indulgent for herself. This has all the makings of a real Marilyn moment.
For those who don’t have a tub, there is a cleansing cream as well, which produces a creamy lather for the shower.
CHANEL N° 5 BATH SOAP
150 G ($25)
200 G + soap dish ($75)
I don’t know if the fragrance in the bath soap has changed, but the last bar I bought in 2009 was highly fragranced and highlighted the gorgeous Chanel no. 5 jasmine. It was so heavily fragranced that it filled the bathroom with its perfume for hours.
Without knowing if the fragrance has changed, I can at least say that the texture of a Chanel soap is a luxury unto itself, with a milky pink and creamy soft lather that just melts onto the skin. It melts a little faster than other, harder soaps, but if you love no. 5, it’s one of those things you’ve got to try once in your life. It’s another luxury item that would make a very nice gift for those who would never treat themselves so indulgently.
urce for imported and niche line perfumes that you simply can’t find most places. They also sell samples on the online store. I always stop and smell the roses along the sidewalk before going in.
Erica Bloom's Vanity Project 