Cyprès-Musc by Creed

I was at first uneasy about this scent. It struck me as odd for the Creed lineup, but it has grown on me recently for a number of reasons. CM is a fairly straightforward scent that is the same from when you spray all the way through the drydown. It is an intense, dusky cypress with a little citrus, musk, and light amber. It is soapy and mossy at the same time. This reminds me of country part of town and country fragrance pairs popular in the 19th Century. Mossy, dewy country roads in the heart of Arles or even Normandy with Van Gogh's cypresses blowing in the wind beneath the starlight.

Creed Epicea

A grand fragrance indeed! Epicea reminds me of something the 17th Century Russian aristocracy would have worn (along with their fur kaftans and leather boots before Peter the Great forced them to adopt silk shoes, bows, knickers, silk stockings, and powdered wigs) around a fire in an ancient pine forest perhaps roasting a wild boar. The pine, smoke, and birch tar are founded in powdery, slightly sour ambergris and slightly sweet, but still robust musk.

Helmut Lang Eau de Cologne

Helmut Lang Eau de Cologne has somewhat of a misleading name—one would think it is a light, airy citrus fragrance—but in fact, the cologne demarcation refers to the concentration rather than style. The opening is a bit fuzzy with lavender, dark citrus, and rosemary. This soon gives way to the soft, floral heart of jasmine, lily, heliotrope and rose. The powdery, musky base is comprised of sandalwood, cedar, orris, and musk.

Helmut Lang EdC is where Victorian barbershop meets powdered wig and 1950s machismo though it is nowhere near as brusque or imposing as any of them. This fragrance has a certain “volume” to it though it is light and never cloying—perhaps from the buttery and “fatty” quality of the base.Be forewarned that Helmut Lang EdC has a modern, laundry detergent edge briefly that may offend some classicists.  I think it is a better approximation of the tailoring industry on Saville Row than a recent "sartorial" release by a well-known English firm. 

Lorenzo Villoresi Musk

While Villoresi's Musk is far from what most would consider a musky fragrance, one must examine the sheer artistry and quality of ingredients. The opening and considerable parts of the heart are a soft yet persistent natural (and very expensive) Bulgarian rose absolute sharpened by galbanum and a slight spicy/earthy/fougere accord from the geranium. After about a half of an hour, the marvelous musk/oakmoss/sandalwood base emerges and lingers for some time. The base is not "musky," but rather powdery with wisps of tonquin musk.

Musk is a soft, yet substantial fragrance. Another reviewer compares it to the rich velvety fragrances of the 18th Century, but I think it is more in line with the rich, unctuous scents of Arabie popular in Victorian Europe at the end of the 19th Century like Hammam Bouquet. The strong rose accord could make this scent verge on the feminine, but it is not overly so. I do not smell the harsh synthetic accords of which other reviewers speak. The luxurious quality is beyond reproach. Bulgarian Rose Absolute tends to have a metallic property, which is what other may be detecting.

All in all, a dash of good taste in an otherwise tasteless world.

The Rose of Arabie: Hammam Bouquet

Having been in the midst of moving and law school exams, I have not had much time to post, but I hope to get started again soon. I recently moved into a quaint Victorian boardinghouse in the historic downtown of Redlands, California and it really reminds me of the quality building modern society has all but forgotten: oak crown molding, door frames, gallery balconies, attics, cellars, leaded-crystal door knobs, lath and plaster walls, etc. Despite it being a terrible time in the year to wear heavy Victorian fragrances, I feel inspired to mention Hammam Bouquet by Penhaligons—vintage of course. How vintage? Perhaps 5-10 years old—and believe me, it makes a big difference. HB was reformulated within the last couple of years and is no longer a powdery, animalic rose; now it is just powdery.

Hammam Bouquet, in its proper form (vintage extract would be even better) is basically a seminar in Victorian tastes and all things that were admired, at least in fragrance, during this era in history. Tastes changed slowly before the commercialization of society starting in the 1920s. In fact, it took almost half a century for the older, lighter eau de cologne styles famed by Napoleon took lose footing to the newer, heavier, musky fragrances inspired by the Orient (not Orient as in Japan and China as we would think today, but as in Arabia, Turkey, Morocco, Persia, etc.—the common meaning of the term at the time). Turkish, Moroccan, and the awe-inspiring Bulgarian Rose Otto, Grasse Jasmine, civet, musk, oppoponax, myrrh, incense gums, rich balsams, Venetian Orris, French lavender, and Mysore Sandalwood would have been just a few of the rich ingredients available to the perfumerer.

Alas, Penhaligons is now going the way of all the other traditional English houses—into the trash bin of history that is.

The Cologne to End All Colognes

Today I will be discussing the unbeatable (at least by modern standards) Acqua di Colonia by the renowned perfume house of Lorenzo Villoresi. While not a “classic” in the sense of age as it was released around 1996, it does it better than any classical citrus eau de cologne available on the market today. If we were travel back to the 18th Century with a bottle, I have no doubt it would be instantly recognizable to the ruling classes for its brilliance, simplicity, and superb ingredients. Remember, a good cologne lives and dies by the quality of its citrus oils.

I am aware that traditional eaus do not excite the modern palette, but once must make a concerted effort to at least experience and enjoy Acqua di Colonia for what it is—a light, refreshing citrus cologne with herbal and light musky aspects with the hauntingly and too often poorly portrayed neroli flower. Surprisingly, Villoresi uses a bit of vegetal ambrette seed musk to add depth and extend the fragrance a couple of hours since the original deer musk is no longer available.

The only cologne I have ever found to be comparable is vintage Farina Gegenuber (about which I will post in the future and naturally own a couple of flacons), which unfortunately, has not be produced since the 1960s, which undoubtedly fell out of style in the age of Eau Sauvage and Paco Rabanne.

Acqua di Colonia is certainly worth at least a sampling and I think you will be pleasantly surprised. I would buy now since this is a title that is not likely to endure and will likely face a monstrous price increase given the higher than gold prices of many of the ingredients used.

King Iris

Iris Silver Mist by Serge Lutens (I house I generally despise) is one of the few modern fragrances I would dare to discuss on this blog. It takes its place beside the queen of irises, the regal and long lost Iris Gris. ISM is cold, powdery, spicy, rooty, peppery, and above all else, irisy. In no other extant fragrance is there such a high concentration of orris compounds.

The opening is pungent like slicing open a beat and inhaling deeply. There is pepper, root, earth, and a bit of doughy carrot. This phase quickly gives way to the cold, icy orris heart of the fragrance. The orris is of top quality in conjunction with the rare and expensive Robertet iris base.

To my knowledge, Silver Iris Mist is the only fragrance on the market that contains large quantities of natural orris butter and other natural orris compounds. Is it as good as Iris Gris? Probably not, but you could do much worse. In the heart, the icy orris root comes to the fore. The base contains a little sandalwood and a slightly soapy musk reminiscent of the long lost Gris (do not be fooled by MPG Iris Bleu Gris as it has nothing to do with Iris Gris).

I would suggest buying ISM while it is still available if you are interested in the best available iris fragrance. Is it cheap? Certainly not, but the quality of the iris compounds justifies the price and may, of course, only be available in the States for a short period of time—ISM was once a Paris exclusive.