09/24/2013
jtd
484 Reviews
jtd
Top Review
10
orange amber
I've written about a couple of orange perfumes recently. (Bond no 9 Little Italy and Atelier Cologne Orange Sanguine) Neither one of them was satisfying, and both did orange an injustice. Come to think of it, I do know another solution to the orange problem perfumery. Robert Piguet Baghari seems to keep a shadowy, candied orange alive forever but this kind of magic seems to have a Faustian quality to it, so I'll leave it be.
I think Andy Tauer has found a solution to the orange dilemma.
The two perfumes that failed the orange tried to treat it like a lemon and make Eau de Cologne out of it. Citrus is bright, and citrus olfactory notes are volatile. Focusing on the lightness but trying to make it last feels a bit desperate, like the search for an eternal appearance of youth. I call this the red shoes approach. Keep dancing and maybe you'll convince yourself of eternal youth.
Tauer’s solution seems more realistic but no more prosaic, and likely more repeatable to anybody who would care to investigate (ie. imitate). He neither candies the orange, nor tries to make a cologne out of it. He preserves it. In stretching out the life of the orange, Orange Star trades some of the fruit’s tartness for a luscious hint of salt, but in finding endurance it also appears to have concentrated the flavor. Playing with depth and thickness instead of sweetness, Tauer fastens citrus to amber, and finds a middle ground that is both refined and lasting. With amber’s inherent lushness Orange Star glows more than it shines. Perhaps it has less wattage than a short-lived cologne, but it also has a lithe, like sun-kissed-skin quality that makes it both playful and kinda' hot. I’d love to smell this on someone else.
I think Andy Tauer has found a solution to the orange dilemma.
The two perfumes that failed the orange tried to treat it like a lemon and make Eau de Cologne out of it. Citrus is bright, and citrus olfactory notes are volatile. Focusing on the lightness but trying to make it last feels a bit desperate, like the search for an eternal appearance of youth. I call this the red shoes approach. Keep dancing and maybe you'll convince yourself of eternal youth.
Tauer’s solution seems more realistic but no more prosaic, and likely more repeatable to anybody who would care to investigate (ie. imitate). He neither candies the orange, nor tries to make a cologne out of it. He preserves it. In stretching out the life of the orange, Orange Star trades some of the fruit’s tartness for a luscious hint of salt, but in finding endurance it also appears to have concentrated the flavor. Playing with depth and thickness instead of sweetness, Tauer fastens citrus to amber, and finds a middle ground that is both refined and lasting. With amber’s inherent lushness Orange Star glows more than it shines. Perhaps it has less wattage than a short-lived cologne, but it also has a lithe, like sun-kissed-skin quality that makes it both playful and kinda' hot. I’d love to smell this on someone else.