Dreaming of Teenage Suicides & Blue Valentines: The Advertising of Marc Jacobs Perfumes

I have been watching Marc Jacobs perfume commercials for the last five years or so (latest has been for Daisy Dream, a flanker of the original Daisy by Marc Jacobs, after Daisy Eau so Fresh) and I am constantly questioning myself about who they're aimed at really and who can identify with the nubile, hazy, virginal waifs he's depicting at an alarming rate; surely the teenagers are far too street smart to be that innocent, right? And they're young enough not to need to recapture their youth via image associations? Far from a feminist issue (others have tackled this more effectively already), I'm calling the bluff out on an aesthetic issue. The tone is set on a dreamlike sequence, grunge fashion style, with flou ~natch, strike that out~ bad lighting (and small lights creeping up from one focal point on the screen, so 70s) and certain cinematic techniques (gros plan, travelling etc.).

Basically they all look like they're shot by the same director (Are they? If anyone knows, please chime in).

Yes, really, they do.

They invariably remind me of the stylistic approach of two movies: The Virgin Suicides (with its nubile girls aplenty) and Blue Valentine (true life dystopia condensed in two hours or less). The trouble is those are sad movies, I mean really sad. Did I mention they're sad? (And they're absolutely great, go watch them! Like right now).

I can see nothing of the thought provocation that Eugenides's book (on which the movie was made) sparks or Cianfrance's darkish realism in the actual Marc Jacobs fragrances, you know?

Obviously lots of other fragrances have used visual and artistic references which do not correspond 100% to their actual scent (you can find several in our articles under Advertising) but at least they hinted at something a bit less uniform, less mass generated, less dull than the Jacobs brand is churning out. I don't know, maybe I'm grumpy today, what do you all think?

Hermes Hermessence Cuir d'Ange: new fragrance

In Jean le Bleu, Jean Giono, perfumer Jean Claude Ellena's favorite author, describes the father of the narrator as "a cobbler who makes soles in angel leather". Angel leather, cuir d'ange…how's that for poetic? It's my privilege to break the good news to you then. The newest in the Hermessences, (those are boutique exclusive fragrances by Hermès) is recalling the passage which served for the inspiration for another perfume by Hermes back in 2007, Kelly Calèche.

Indeed "cuir d'ange" was the VERY expression Ellena used when promoting Kelly Calèche. And Giono had a prominent position anyway in the presentation of Cuir d'Ange to our world of journalism as pretty young men and women actors read passages from his opus in le jardin de Paraïs at Giono's house at Manosque…

But to revert to Kelly Calèche. This sleeper classic seemed to me at the time (and continues to do so) as the perfect gateway into "proper fragrance" for young ladies who were hesitant to borrοw their mothers "big" florientals and fruity chypres (like the brand's own 24 Faubourg) and their grand-mothers' prim aldehydics (like the original Calèche).

The idea of a floral leather perfume in non sweet tonalities was brought out in a chic and reserved way in 2007, maybe too reserved for its own sales, but it was such a good idea that the newly changed guard at Balenciaga copied the concept for their very own Florabotanica fragrance recently, this time fronted by trashy-chic Kristen Stewart to ensure 20-something commercial appeal. But no matter. It seems like Hermès is revisiting the idea and introducing a "material-focused" version ~as Ellena puts it when describing the process of creating the line~ (and if the previous installments are enough indication a trompe l'oeil on said materials!) Treating the idea anew is also a good transitioning for the succeeding perfumer at the helm, Christine Nagel, Ellena's protégée, who will be asked to continue and advance an impressive body of olfactory opus in a little while.

So, after the unusual Epice Marine, an angelic leather, a take without regard of intended sex this time, (as the Hermessences are created unisex) but which brings forth images of softness, vegetal and airy qualities and the familiar touch of this master perfumer. And never before has the soft leather "fold" in which the Hermessences bottles are put into seemed more appropriate: a buttery cream as smooth and inviting to the touch as feathers off the back of an angel…
Bring it forth; Hermessence Cuir d'Ange gets officially launched in September 2014!

Serge Lutens L'Orpheline: fragrance review & sample draw

Much like the mysterious (and incestuous) half-sister in Leos Carax's  radical adaptation of Melville's Pierre: or, the Ambiguities (1852) in "Pola X", the specter of the missing family member being visited while in almost somnambulist state, L'orpheline (the orphan girl), the latest Serge Lutens fragrance, becomes "un visage….sans age…une souffle, une presence" (a face…ageless…a breath, a presence) which disrupts the flow of a seemingly smooth, luxurious life with its secret of a tormented and deprived past. And again much like the play of light & darkness throughout the film by Leos, L'orpheline presents a play between the cool and warm register, between madness creeping underneath love, and between comfort emerging where you least expect it. Like Pierre, Lutens, you see, views himself as an artist in love with reckless gestures, only thankfully his charm lies not in any thorough immaturity. On the contrary, he has revealed intimate, personal stuff to us with the maturity that comes from acceptance.

Serge presents the new perfume in these words written in a vertical sequence: " Friable mais entière.À demi-mot, son nom se fêle. Avant la brisure, les deux premières syllabes portent le nom du poète qui même pouvait charmer les pierres. " Lutens of course winks at Orpheus, the legendary Greek poet and prophet who charmed every being with his music and tried to retrieve his wife, Eurydice, from the dead by way of his skills, only to meet with his own death from those who could not hear his divine music…which ties with the cryptic text he has written on L'Incendiaire, his other fragrant release, in a new "golden line", announced here a while ago. How's that for two shots with one stone?

Does Serge try to bring back his repressed beloved, his mother, a small bit at a time, with each of his fragrances? Possibly. Lutens is a grown Remi (after Malot's "Sans famille"), on a journey of the roads of France, on a journey of the roads of perfume. And like Carax or Rivette or any master of that school, he certainly takes his time into letting us share his journey.
The poetic concept of the "orphan", "fragile but whole" (this is a French expression that really loses in the translation), is inspired by Lutens's own childhood, "of ashes" and rage, his painful memories of being raised without a mother and abandoned by his father, though the change of sex in the fragrance name suggests a Freudian transposition regarding the significance of the Father (as suggested by Lutens himself). He conflates the male with pain ("le Mâle : le mal"), an Oedipal symbolism that doesn't go amiss. Nor is it intended to.

For this coolish and quiet fragrance (sequentially warmish, like Gris Clair) named  L'Orpheline, Lutens and his sidekick perfumer Chris Sheldrake focus on incense notes, not as cold and soapy as in L'Eau Froide, neither as spicy warm and shady as in Serge Noire, but somewhere in between; entre chien et loup, between daylight and darkness. Frankincense, the impression of bittersweet myrrh and peppery-acrid (elemi? cumin? ginger?) rather than clove-y carnation notes seem to rise, a cross between spirituality and carnality? Lutens knows how to marry contradictions and swath the opulence of orientalia into Parisian refinement. The spicy note in the heart reminds me of a mix between mace and cumin, reminiscent of both Secret Obsession (the now discontinued Calvin Klein fragrance) and a lighter Serge Noire by Lutens.

Yet the end result in L'Orpheline is apart; neither a true Moroccan oriental like hardcore Serge fans have built an online cult out of, nor a classically French perfume for the salon, but a mysterious, vaporous emanation "between the storm and clear skies", between the ashes of the past and the uncertainty of the future, a Delacroix painting, a dwindling match leaving embers behind. The peppery accent on the incense reminds me of the treatment of carnations in Oeillet Bengale (one of the best releases of the year so far) while the musky underlay is soft, subtle, meditative and not entirely without a certain poignancy.

L'Orpheline would suit anyone who like Pierre "had been waiting for something", regardless of their sex. Haven't we all?

L'Orpheline is an haute concentration fragrance, meaning more concentrated than the beige label ones, belonging in the "black line" of the so called "export range" by Serge Lutens. It will retail at 99 euros for 50ml, is already at the Palais Royal and eboutique and will be widely launched internationally on September 1st.

One sample out of my own decant to a lucky reader commenting below. Draw is open till Sunday midnight.

Cartier Panthere and Cartier La Panthere: fragrance review & comparison of vintage vs. modern edition

Reading there are two editions, one old, one new, by Cartier with the emblematic panther in the name, one is faced with an embarrassment of riches. The good news is that perfumer Mathilde Laurent' style is vibrant, luminous, recognizable in the newer incarnation, La Panthère. The bad news (if that is considered bad in itself) is that it bears no copy-paste relation to the previous fragrance,  Cartier  Panthère, launched in 1986 and circulating well into the 1990s to be discontinued later on.

While the older Panthère is a ripe and fruity-saturated perfume which is recalling a trend of the 1980s and mid-90s (and bears a knowing kinship to the later Champagne/Yvresse by Sophia Grojsman with its fruit-liquor density, I always thought, as well as winking to Dior Poison), the newer La Panthère is a musky floral with a healthy dose of oakmoss felt in the base, which gains life on the skin, rather than on the paper blotter on which it is presented in perfumeries. Indeed to judge it by merely its effect on paper would be to misunderstand it.

I like what I smell on a batch of the older, Alberto Morillas composed Panthère which I received through a split from a bona fide collector. My own small bottle from 1991 was in a ramschackle state, due to it being kept on a dresser for the better part of that decade. The little remaining inside had become a thickish goo which muddled all notes together. So jogging my memory was necessary. The rather significant amount I ordered proves that my former instincts are correct.

The floral notes (tuberose amongst them) are so honeyed and dense (and warmed up by civet notes) that they gain an overripe fruitiness, reminiscent of grappa spirits. The resinous qualities have an aldehydic brilliance to them and a tenacity which has both influential wake (you sniff this from time to time on yourself) and good lasting power, either on skin or on clothes. It's a perfume that seems out of joint with the modern sensibilities in a way, yet like 24 Faubourg it doesn't smell really retro, just mature and "full." Contrary to 24 Faubourg, nevertheless, the older Panthère's aura is less formal and a little more playful, at least to me.

In contrast the newer 2014 La Panthère (differentiated both by bottle and by the article "La" [sic], i.e. "the" before the animal-emblem) spells modern sensibilities galore, yet done in a very tasteful way. Much like Baiser Vole (which let it be noted I liked a lot) was Laurent's take on one of the mega-trends of recent perfumery, that is, the gently powdery floral, here in La Panthère takes some of the tricks of the illusionist, making you see fruit (fresh, tart, like pear liqueur, greenish too, a touch of budding gardenias) while the floral bouquet develops beyond any doubt and gains radiance by the hour. The underscoring by musks fortunately doesn't tilt the perfume into laundry detergent territory, as many fear due to the abundance of musk molecules in functional products used for cleaning and drying our clothes due to their hydrophobic properties (which ensure a lasting impression).

Specifically Musk ketone in the base, which smells warm, inviting, pulsating from the skin, forms an aura that warms up with the heat of the body. Although previously restricted and disappearing from perfumes, it is re-introduced and utilized by some (but not all!) perfume companies and perfume labs. It is exactly its thermoregulating properties which are lost on the blotter, so I advice giving it some time to evolve on the warmth of someone living. The mossy notes brings the composition closer to something which indeed has a 1980s kin than anything. Yet it still remains contemporary, youthful, sparkling with life, a modern chypre. One of the better releases so far.

I really like the concave bottle which is carved from the inside to hold the juice into the cavity formed by the panther's head. In all sincerity I found the commercial (and the overly "meaningful" gaze of the model) yawn-inducing. But your mileage may vary.

Available at major department stores internationally.

Vintage Advertising Champions: Cacharel

This specimen of vintage advertising from the 1980s by the French brand Cacharel comes as the imaginative apex of an aesthetic we don't come across anymore. The white knickerbockers-style outfit with the straw hat and the knee high socks in Mary Janes has a vaguely early 20th century feel to it. The lion is imposing and has a questioning look in its eye, it is hoever reflected ~please note~ alone and on a checkered floor on the opposite page of the advertisement.

They just don't make them like this anymore…