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09/16/2023
Yatagan
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Yatagan
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How many Penhaligon's does the world need?
Unannotated fragrances No. 176
Let's face it: some of us, whose first fragrance experiences date back to the 70s, 80s or early 90s, are the ghost drivers of the modern fragrance industry (and I use this phrase deliberately), whose lurching attempts to avoid the oncoming traffic of various designer and niche novelties seem as helpless as wearing antiquated, beautiful Harris Tweed jackets. To avoid any misunderstandings: I count myself among those anachronistic dinosaurs who have a fondness for old so-called men's fragrances (and really nice old so-called women's fragrances), even though a well-made fragrance can and should be worn by all genders.
Penhaligon's used to be one of those quasi-unknown, somewhat whimsical English brands in Germany that nobody knew - except for those who had a catalog from Lothar Ruff from Berlin in the days before the Internet, who enthusiastically praised such fragrances, introduced them to Germany in a complicated way, was ridiculed by the masses, but adored by fans. I was able to get to know him personally, which I am seriously proud of. Back then, Penhaligon's offered a few fragrances in these strangely nostalgic bottles emblazoned with the warrant of Prince Charles (the former name of the English king), some of which have been produced almost unchanged since 1872, e.g. the fantastically beautiful Hammam Bouquet Eau de Toilette. Then there was the bitter green-citric Blenheim Bouquet Eau de Toilette (often compared to rubbing alcohol, if anyone still knows it) and a few others that hardly anyone except Charles had ever smelled - and that was it. But they were all good and actually blueprints for fragrance families that still play a role today, such as "Fougère" (English Fern Eau de Toilette).
Then came the niche market and someone at Penhaligon's must have realized that they had actually always been niche and therefore far ahead instead of behind. In ever shorter succession, they brought out flacons with funny animal heads, with something in them that smells good and that you can occasionally like if you want to - and after all the animals you know from English zoos had been used up, they had to think of something new: In addition to various other lines such as Trade Routes, now "Potions & Remedies".
My expectations have now sunk so low that I almost assume that the quality of the contents is in inverse proportion to the aesthetics of the bottles and so I was afraid that the new series in beautiful bottles in the old Penhaligon's design would be very banal again. To make a long story short: I don't actually know because I won't be testing them again unless they happen to cross my olfactory path via various swap chains.
I only wanted to test Potions & Remedies - Eau the Audacity because orange blossom, rose, elemi and incense appeal to me as much as ambergris, leather and vanilla put me off (because I think of ambroxan, synthetic postmodern leather notes and penetrating sweetness) and the result is indeed sobering: the latter accents assert themselves and drown in a powdery sweetness, which is perhaps intensified by the incense. Whatever other part the saffron blossom plays here. The floral notes basically disappear and what this has to do with boldness (audacity) remains a mystery that I no longer want to solve: "We stand disappointed ourselves and see affected / The curtain closed and all questions open" (Bertolt Brecht).
Let's face it: some of us, whose first fragrance experiences date back to the 70s, 80s or early 90s, are the ghost drivers of the modern fragrance industry (and I use this phrase deliberately), whose lurching attempts to avoid the oncoming traffic of various designer and niche novelties seem as helpless as wearing antiquated, beautiful Harris Tweed jackets. To avoid any misunderstandings: I count myself among those anachronistic dinosaurs who have a fondness for old so-called men's fragrances (and really nice old so-called women's fragrances), even though a well-made fragrance can and should be worn by all genders.
Penhaligon's used to be one of those quasi-unknown, somewhat whimsical English brands in Germany that nobody knew - except for those who had a catalog from Lothar Ruff from Berlin in the days before the Internet, who enthusiastically praised such fragrances, introduced them to Germany in a complicated way, was ridiculed by the masses, but adored by fans. I was able to get to know him personally, which I am seriously proud of. Back then, Penhaligon's offered a few fragrances in these strangely nostalgic bottles emblazoned with the warrant of Prince Charles (the former name of the English king), some of which have been produced almost unchanged since 1872, e.g. the fantastically beautiful Hammam Bouquet Eau de Toilette. Then there was the bitter green-citric Blenheim Bouquet Eau de Toilette (often compared to rubbing alcohol, if anyone still knows it) and a few others that hardly anyone except Charles had ever smelled - and that was it. But they were all good and actually blueprints for fragrance families that still play a role today, such as "Fougère" (English Fern Eau de Toilette).
Then came the niche market and someone at Penhaligon's must have realized that they had actually always been niche and therefore far ahead instead of behind. In ever shorter succession, they brought out flacons with funny animal heads, with something in them that smells good and that you can occasionally like if you want to - and after all the animals you know from English zoos had been used up, they had to think of something new: In addition to various other lines such as Trade Routes, now "Potions & Remedies".
My expectations have now sunk so low that I almost assume that the quality of the contents is in inverse proportion to the aesthetics of the bottles and so I was afraid that the new series in beautiful bottles in the old Penhaligon's design would be very banal again. To make a long story short: I don't actually know because I won't be testing them again unless they happen to cross my olfactory path via various swap chains.
I only wanted to test Potions & Remedies - Eau the Audacity because orange blossom, rose, elemi and incense appeal to me as much as ambergris, leather and vanilla put me off (because I think of ambroxan, synthetic postmodern leather notes and penetrating sweetness) and the result is indeed sobering: the latter accents assert themselves and drown in a powdery sweetness, which is perhaps intensified by the incense. Whatever other part the saffron blossom plays here. The floral notes basically disappear and what this has to do with boldness (audacity) remains a mystery that I no longer want to solve: "We stand disappointed ourselves and see affected / The curtain closed and all questions open" (Bertolt Brecht).
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