Yesterday's Perfume

Quiproquo by Grès (1976)

Quiproquo by Grès is one of the sharpest, greenest floral chypres I've ever had the pleasure of smelling.

It opens like Estee Lauder Aliage (1972), with what smells like a huge dose of galbanum and peach;  blooms like Diorella (1971), with fresh florals, aromatic herbs, and a bit of funk; and it dries down a bit like Grès’s Cabochard (1959), with a subtle leather accord that pulls the fragrance together like a tough leather belt around a diaphanous summer dress.

The writer for perfume blog Black Narcissus calls Quiproquo "Cabochard’s little sister," and a Fragrantica commenter agrees, derisively describing Quiquopro as “1/4 Cabochard, 1/4 lemon cologne.” It’s true, lemon slices through Quiproquo like a golden ray of sunshine, but once its puckering intensity dies down, the floralcy and woodys/chypre/leather base take over. Raiders of the Lost Scent blogger Andre says of Quiproquo, "Sweet, gentle, almost ethereal, it seems to ask permission before appearing."

Huff this stuff long enough, and you can sniff out the isobutyl quinoline that made Bandit and Cabochard great, giving Quiproquo a dry mossy leather finish so characteristic of 70s perfumes of either persuasion.

Gianni Versace by Versace (1982)

Gianni Versace's eponymous first fragrance is a densely-woven animalic floral chypre sweetened with dried fruits, studded with spices, drunk on boozy notes and smoky with resins. On the color wheel, it would be represented by velvety russets, silky saffrons, and inky blacks.

It starts off with an intense, autumnal fruit accord, quickly transitioning to sultry, narcotic flowers. Carnation is prominent, adding a warm, clovey spice that emboldens the patchouli in the base to join its chorus. The base's smoky leather rises like a plume cloud of cigarette smoke, temporarily obscuring the beautiful face of a classic film noir femme fatale.

Woman Pure by Jil Sander (1980)

I love the idea of a "cusp." In astrology, this means the date when two signs converge, or when one sign transitions to another, sharing the attributes of both.

Cusps in perfume and Zodiac signs toggle between the signature characteristics of the era/sign they're leaving and the ones they're moving toward. For example, I'm a Leo/Virgo, which means, on the one hand, that I am extroverted, need attention, and have energy to burn; and on the other, that I need time away from the madding crowd, that I don't need others' opinions, and that I occasionally need to tunnel under the bedcovers.

Eau Fraiche by Christian Dior (1953)

I was recently gifted a full, properly stored bottle of Eau Fraiche eau de cologne by Christian Dior, probably from the decade it was created. The box has a textured, black and white rattan weave design, and the bottle sports the signature black bow.

Eau Fraiche, or fresh water, starts with a sparkling, sharp, gleaming citrus accord, heavy on the lemon. This naturalistic citrus is soon surrounded by a hazy cloud of herbs and oakmoss with a subtle powdery drydown. The effect is: nature tamed, or elegance letting her hair down. Eau Fraiche features a kaleidescope of fresh facets, combining the sheerness and intensity of real citrus with the floralcy and drydown of a perfume perfume. 

Nature tamed: I once described Jean Naté as smelling like a lemon that's gone to finishing school. Dior's Eau Fraiche is much more polished and complex, but the effect is still the same — a burst of nature reined in, its herbs (basil? rosemary? anise?) joined with oakmoss, patchouli and maybe vetiver arranged into a camera-ready pose.

Elegance letting her hair down: Eau Fraiche makes me think of Grace Kelly at the beach. In her bathing suit, she still managed to look more polished and chic than most women in evening gowns. Eau Fraiche is like that — a scent that was probably meant to be thrown on before heading out the door on a summer day, and splashed on throughout the day for refreshment, but it's still tailored and slightly formal. It still smells "perfumey." It's a perfume that has kicked off its shoes and wiggled its toes in the sand...

It Happened to Me: My Real-life, True Adventures in Berlin Smelling Perfume While Being Driven Around in an S-Class Mercedes

I was recently invited to Berlin, along with fellow perfume bloggers, to attend a Mercedes-Benz fragrance event connected to Berlin Fashion Week. Being a non-insane person, I said, "Yes" to the invite.

We met Mercedes-Benz big-wigs, including Senior Design Manager of Color and Trim, Martin Bremer; Director of Body Interior, Dr. Stefan Geyer; and Daimler AG "futurologist" Sabine Engelhardt, who created the first "automotive room scent,” the Air Balance, for the Mercedes S-Class car.

I also saw Tilda Swinton. But I digress.

The most visible part of the Air Balance scent diffuser, its “flacon,” looks like a jar of very expensive night cream. After you put the fragrance inside, you place the flacon into a device that looks like a high-end, compact espresso machine that resides in the glove compartment. It can be be remotely controlled to dispense your own favorite fragrance or customized fragrances (there were four in all), composed by Symrise perfumer Marc vom Ende exclusively for Mercedes-Benz. Using controls that are on the dashboard, you can decide just how much of the fragrance comes out, on a scale of 1 – 3. The Air Balance also filters and ionizes (purifies) the air in the car.