L'Être Aimé Homme Divine 2008

First of all: this is a difficult scent, not a 'crowd-pleaser' as one would say in English, so it is not a pleasing fragrance, but rather one that is only sensually appealing in moderation, an intellectual one.
The idea behind this fragrance, its 'raison d'être' so to speak, is the complex, on one hand floral, but also straw-like, aromatic, and herbal scent of straw flowers (also called immortelles), which, with its sour undertones, tends to be somewhat penetrating and divides opinions.
Some love it because it reminds them of their vacations by the sea (where the related macchia blooms), while others hate it because it reminds them of the dried flower bouquets that earlier generations liked to have at home, which gradually collected dust and faded, yet never wilted and emitted a peculiar, sour-spicy scent that reflexively made one rush to the window to air out the stuffy air.
I belong to both groups: I like it in nature and I like it on myself, but I do not like it in my apartment. I would have never suspected that I would enjoy this peculiar odor in a perfume until I smelled Annick Goutal's 'Sables' for the first time many years ago - a fragrance that still brings me to my knees: what courage to compose such an eccentric, unconventional scent that lies beyond all, but truly all common fashion trends, not just for the drawer, but also to bottle and offer for sale! Hats off for this audacity, Madame Goutal!
Not that the fragrance became a big hit, but it decisively shaped the image of the Goutal house, which apparently was also capable of producing bold, highly idiosyncratic creations, and not just pastel watercolors.

'Sables' remained for many years an extreme work on the fringes of the olfactory palette, a somewhat arrogant outsider. Approaching it required a certain obstinacy, which often failed at the refusal of saleswomen to take it off the shelf. How often did I hear: oh that one, well he is very special, do you really want to test it? Yes, I did. I even had to test it multiple times before I dared to buy it.
Later, I discovered that 'Sables', regarding the introduction of the immortelle note, had a predecessor: Annick Goutal's own 'Eau de Monsieur' (this fragrance soon became one of my favorites too...). Here she used the multifaceted straw flower accord rather reservedly, embedded in a fresh-aromatic chypre concept.
While 'Sables' remained an acknowledged but not imitation-inviting solitary, the path from 'Eau de Monsieur' directly led to Guerlain's 'Coriolan', created a few years later.
Again, a subtle straw flower note in an exquisitely woven chypre fabric. Once again, a few years later, even 'Sables' found a neighbor in its hermitage that was hardly less eccentric: Dior's 'Eau Noire'. Both fragrances, 'Sables' and 'Eau Noire', do not even attempt to hold back when it comes to immortelle, but rather display it confidently, contrasted with strong, syrupy sweetness (Sables), or with curry-like spiciness (Eau Noire).

Divine's 'l être aimé homme', as the most recent link in the chain of those dedicated to the scent of the straw flower, now connects again to 'Coriolan' and 'Eau de Monsieur' in terms of the not very offensive, but rather subtle display of the dried flower. Moreover, the fragrance also borrows some spice from 'Eau Noire', and even in its very last phase (the next day!) a bit of sweetness from 'Sables'. It is as if 'l être aimé homme' is a traveler in the realm of straw flowers: it combines the friendly naturalness of 'Eau de Monsieur' with the fine elegance of 'Coriolan', but also pays a visit to the eccentric outsiders 'Sables' and 'Eau Noire'.
In doing so, Divine's fragrance certainly takes a position of its own, which one might describe as confidently reserved, because although it clearly places immortelle at its center, it avoids the loud and eccentric appearance of the same.
Nevertheless, I would almost call it a straw flower soliflore, even if this categorization does not initially make sense. But the longer I engage with this fragrance (and I must say: it is enjoyable to engage with it), I realize how recognizable the references of the various notes to the central straw flower accord are. Each one supports a certain aspect of this multifaceted center. The distinctly perceptible celery note at the beginning, for example: it almost absorbs the sour tendencies and gives them support. Basil and lavender highlight the herbal nuances, while cardamom and ginger bring out the spicy and sharp ones. Woody aspects of the straw flower find their echo in the subtle patchouli and sandalwood notes of the base, which, slightly ambered and with a resinous component (labdanum), also reflects the little remaining sweetness of the flower.

Everything is so focused on the central straw flower accord, nothing is omitted or concealed - everything is there. Graciously, however, it is also quite subdued, because the bitter, sour, and straw-like can develop considerable penetration at higher volumes, which loses all grace and becomes unpleasant.
Thus, 'l être aimé homme' remains a skin-embracing herb-spicy fragrance that gradually gains a bit of sweetness. And even when one thinks that one can no longer perceive it, it envelops the wearer like a fine veil in the wind.

At first, I thought this fragrance had far too little presence, was quite thin, almost ethereal. But no: its presence is extremely persistent, just very subtle. For example, if one moves quickly and then suddenly stops, one suddenly perceives the quiet clouds of this reserved companion again - a beautiful experience that one usually does not have when the cloud rushes ahead. 'L être aimé homme' is encountered in this way throughout the day, reminding one - shyly but still determined - of what a good perfume one is wearing.

Of course, this fragrance also has connections to other creations from the house of Divine, aside from 'l’être aimé femme', which is its twin brother (fraternal twins, mind you, because his sister does not emphasize the spicy, but rather the floral component of the straw flower), but also to its older brothers 'l’homme de coeur' and 'l’homme sage'. At the very beginning, when one has sprayed 'l’être aimé homme', one thinks one recognizes a distant echo of the fruity saffron bliss of 'l’homme sage', just as one suddenly discovers the brittle dryness of a graphite pencil lead during the further development of the fragrance, which directly leads to 'l’homme de coeur'.
In contrast to its older brothers, however, the youngest is neither a wise man nor a heartthrob, but rather a shy, not necessarily pleasing young man, whose primarily intellectual charm one only succumbs to at the second encounter.

The brand Divine [diˈvĩːne], founded in 1986 by Yvon Mouchel, could at first glance be seen as another veteran of French niche perfumery - alongside Goutal, l'Artisan, or Maître Parfumeur et Gantier - and although Divine even operates more of its own stores in France than some of these houses, the portfolio for a company that has been around for over 30 years is quite manageable. Years often pass between releases, and the team of contributing perfumers is ultra-compact. To this day, Richard Ibanez and Yann Vasnier, as here with l’être aimé au masculin. All things I find appealing; the releases I know are all top-notch, above-average good - it almost seems worth the wait, but perhaps even more so, that, as here, Mouchel and Vasnier simply work well together; that the perfumer stays engaged with other jobs in the meantime and knows what is happening in the industry, and the brand founder can patiently weave a coherent narrative.

Divine's exotic, finely structured, and perfectly blended (men's) perfume is (so far) perhaps l’homme sage (2005), which was to be followed by l’être aimé in 2008. However, my favorite is the latter. L’être aimé appears next to l’homme sage's smoother surface and profound volume like a handwoven linen textile or an Indian Khadi loom, the threads are rough, the weave has play and is breathable, the feel, slightly scratchy, functional, robust, reliable - but not of lesser quality than the velvety silky predecessor. According to Divine, l’être aimé is all about Immortelle (which also had a quiet say in l’homme sage), yes, I see it exactly that way. The thought of Goutal's milestone Sables (1985) comes to mind, yet l’être aimé is, herbaceous, bitter, aromatic, and perhaps more Breton (like Divine's origin), washed by all weathers rather than Corsican and sun-dried.

If this sounds too much like a herbal tincture, which might rather belong in the current dark web of fictional home perfumers from Vermont or Oregon - Yann Vasnier is a thoroughly professional, industrial perfumer, an excellent one at that, who has also done precision work here with l’être aimé. Exotic spices, ginger, and cardamom are used just like in l’homme sage, in l’être aimé in the micro-dosing range, with all its bitter directness, l’être aimé starts with a light basil pepper note, rounded, sharpened, and refreshed by these very spices. Celery, for me, sits more at the intersection of fenugreek/lovage, perhaps garnished with a pinch of cumin. This note is not due to a celery absolute or something similar, rather it could stem from Sotolon, or a facet of Immortelle that repeatedly appears in the associated descriptors language - thus already on board and emphasized, tuned. Anyone who has ever had high-quality Immortelle absolute in front of their nose knows how multifaceted it is and that there are bitter, coffee-like as well as vegetable-like facets - and not just exclusively sweet and spicy.

That all these other components have important supporting functions here is not necessarily due to a low dosage, rather Yann Vasnier, as a master of dosage, has created an Immortelle-centered fragrance that does not come in the three-component scheme, rather: much is micro-modulated, everything shimmers. Sometimes a nuance of vetiver flashes, sometimes it has a sandalwood quality, sometimes it greens slightly patchouli-like. Did Mouchel and Vasnier write a new chapter in Immortelle-centered perfumes? Yes and No. There are only a handful of perfumes that tackle Immortelle so unprejudiced. Profumo's subsequent comment on l’être aimé follows these tracks in the most beautiful way. In many cases, the ingredient is properly neutralized, de-bittered, de-spiced, de-sweetened, so that it only comes across as a warming, effective filler material. L'Artisan's now discontinued Mont de Narcisse (2018) or the also discontinued Voyage en Méditerranée - Immortelle de Corse (2011) are prime examples of de-characterized Immortelle. Therefore, hats off to Divine for l’être aimé.

Almost: for there is a catch, which ultimately is no longer a catch: the enchantingly original Immortelle-celery-fenugreek etc. note surprisingly resembles the Series Luxe: Patchouli (2007) released the year before. L’être aimé is brighter, more open, and Series Luxe: Patchouli in overall impression a good kilohertz deeper - but the overlap is astonishing: the latter has been discontinued for years and l’être aimé fortunately has not, done, pleasing.

Apart from that, it might be l’être aimé's spatial construction that impresses. Vasnier and Mouchel have succeeded in developing an airy coordinate system in which the often perceived dense Immortelle note floats with much 'space' in between, almost like a Japanese Ikebana, where the space between the branches, this negative space between volumes is as important as the branches, leaves, and plants themselves - this elegance characterizes l’être aimé and I think yes, a wonderful and far too rarely read chapter.

A strange perfume, this L‘ Être Aimé Homme. I can't think of another scent with a similar concept. LEAH found its way into my collection after repeated testing. As Apicius already pointed out with his comment, it is a perfume that does not reveal itself immediately and that one must work to understand. Admittedly, sometimes I find quirky creations more fascinating than I could actually wear them later. I have already added several scents to my collection that I initially found exciting and rich in associations. But later also found them exhausting. Since then, I have been trying to avoid such purchases. So why did LEAH still make it into my cabinet? Well, a scent proves itself only when I don’t have to think in the morning about what I’m going to spray on. A scent proves itself (at least for me) when I can wear it at any time without major irritations and feel comfortable with it. I need to be ideally dressed for it. Of course, depending on the situation: in jeans and a shirt, something uncomplicated is more appropriate, while with a shirt and jacket, it can also be something more opulent. In the former case, that would be the citrus-wood-chypre-barbershop corner. In the latter case, perhaps complemented by some leather, amber, floral notes... However, I don’t like it when individual components constantly stand out too much in a scent and become noticeable or even irritating over hours. Therefore, I prefer not to have overly opulent perfumes with too much sweetness (with punchy amber, vanilla, tonka, labdanum, honey, caramel, etc.) or with too many “sharp” spicy notes (cinnamon, cumin, coriander, as well as spicy elements from woods or resins). All of these are components, like too much incense or patchouli (fragrance notes that I actually like as individual scents), that I find exhausting over time unless they harmoniously blend into the overall composition.

I must repeat, LEAH is a strange perfume. A look at the fragrance notes seems to confirm this: spices, vegetable notes, woodiness, and a base that, in contrast, appears very ambered and sweet. However, the notes do not contribute much to the fragrance experience. Sometimes it is better not to let oneself be too much guided by them. Otherwise, I would have missed out on a truly great scent.
LEAH starts relatively dark-spicy with restrained freshness. With a bit of lemony ginger sharpness on a slightly herbal green base tone (basil?). Noticeably present is an original hint of celery. The celery noticeably contributes to steering the scent in an almost unfun and serious, vegetable direction. I imagine that this is what prevents many from wanting to seriously engage with this creation. Personally, I really like celery, a rather rarely used note, as it may create the impression of a soup kitchen. I have no trouble with such images, or rather: I don’t see why a beautiful scent of fresh, crisp vegetables shouldn’t have its place. If the whole world already smells of coconut, pineapple, and melon, why not fresh vegetables too? Once you get used to it, LEAH feels more familiar. Essentially, it is a skin-close scent without huge projection. Nevertheless, it is well perceived; the straw flower with its slightly creaky background noise is certainly no wallflower, rather a radiant little sun, in whose corona the spices and woods bloom even more. This softly glowing straw flower fits wonderfully with the spices and gives the entire scent a very dry appearance. The labdanum in the base also has a rather dry sweetness; fortunately, Yann Vasnier has avoided anything balsamic, which would have absurdly undermined the vegetable concept. Thus, it remains a not fresh, but refreshing, delicately resinous vegetable bouquet with woody and slightly bitter undertones. I have thought long about what to associate the scent with, and ultimately I believe that a dry vermouth comes quite close to the overall picture. There, too, you find vegetable (from artichoke) and spicy elements. The comparison to dry aperitif definitely fits. It can be worn all year round, even in warm weather, and I really enjoy occasionally sprucing up various perfumes in my collection with a spritz of LEAH in a celery-like manner.

L’Etre Aimé Homme is an exceptionally interesting perfume that only reveals itself hesitantly.

It starts with a very spicy-herbaceous impression. Immediately, the celery mentioned in the pyramid is present, but not intrusive. It is so indistinct that one could confuse it with anise or juniper. Additionally, I immediately get a very woody impression, specifically very dark wood. The wood notes are not specified further, but it could be cypress. Possibly also the artificial note "cashmere wood," which I actually do not like. If that was used, then it is extremely sparingly applied, making it bearable.

I cannot identify the straw flower (immortelle), which Divine makes quite a fuss about, but I also do not know exactly how this flower is supposed to smell. It does have a somewhat straw-like scent, though. At times, I had the impression that there is musk in the base, but that was probably an illusion. I did not notice anything distinct from the bergamot and lavender in the top notes, but I believe the lavender is there and contributes a very restrained ethereal note.

So what kind of scent is it? To sum it up: wood and celery. But it is crafted so skillfully that this fragrance becomes truly interesting. The very dark wood notes, accompanied by a hint of patchouli, provide considerable depth. At the same time, alongside the appetizing spiciness, there are unidentifiable ethereal notes that appear very bright. They also remind one of light musk, although it is clearly not that. Thus, the scent has both heavy and light aspects.

I have already encountered this duality in the wonderful L’Homme Sage. It may be a characteristic of Divine's men's fragrances. If I were to assign a color to this scent, it would again be black-and-white checked. In other words, the perfect fragrance for a suit with a herringbone pattern or a pepper-and-salt jacket. This scent suits such clothing better than jeans and a T-shirt.

The celery note recedes somewhat after half an hour, but the black-and-white base pattern remains. It is a very good perfume. Unlike many other fragrances, the dark woodiness is not exaggerated, even though it is the theme. Even if one does not have a pronounced preference for cypress, sandalwood, and the like, this scent is pleasant. Etre Aimé is a rather subtle fragrance, though without the homeopathic dilution of a Kenzopower.

After about an hour, Etre Aimé approaches the scent of L’Homme Sage - so, corporate identity!

Like everything from Divine, Etre Aimé is a high-quality and original perfume. Although it largely remains within the spectrum of known ingredients, this fragrance has no predecessor or imitator that I am aware of. The excellent quality of this scent does not reveal itself immediately. Loud pop music is foreign to it; it is more esoteric jazz, whose quality only becomes apparent upon careful listening.

L’Etre Aimé Homme will surely appeal to only a small, manageable circle of connoisseurs.

Not really, but for the first 10 seconds, it almost felt that way. Because what was happening on my skin was just as spicy and full-bodied as I remembered from Habit Rouge EdT.

But that was really just a fleeting impression. Then the scent turns green, very green, and indeed dark green. I can definitely perceive vetiver, in a decent dosage, and I would almost claim that it is not celery and cardamom here, but rather sage, with its strongly ethereal, spicy-green scent. I can also catch a hint of ginger.

The scent remains so green on me, and I must admit, the vetiver note is too extreme for my taste. Even though after a while, the immortelle, a warm, floral, and spicy-scented plant, commonly known as everlasting or Italian strawflower, joins in, it cannot stand up to the vetiver; it is simply too strong. I find it very unfortunate that immortelle is always translated and equated with strawflower here. It looks different, smells different, and has a different effect than the strawflower known here, which our grandmothers kept in a vase in the living room all year round. In my comment on "Immortelle Marylin," I shared quite a bit about this strawflower.

The, yes, almost toxic green, dark note does diminish a bit in the base, where amber, exotic woods, very aromatic, as well as sandalwood and patchouli take over. However, the base remains quite scratchy and angular, lacking softness, and rather presents the hard version of woods and patchouli, etc.

L'être aimé is for me an absolutely 100% men's fragrance, far too masculine to be worn by a woman. But Divine also offers L'être aimé in a feminine version. I am very much looking forward to that.