Baptiste

After testing the new "Shalimar Cologne," looking distressed and trying to put this into words, I unfortunately couldn't quite decide on a title. The options were:

"Shalimar, where art thou?"
"What ever happened to Baby Shalimar?"
"It's Shalimar, Bitch!"
"Come on, no way"
"The Rise and Fall of Shalimar Stardust"
"Hello, my name is Nett. I'm the little sister"
"A new Shalimar flanker? My God, we're all going to die!"
"From now on, it went downhill!"
"I spray it on every wall: new Shalimars are what the country needs!"
"Everything was better back then"

Especially with the last title option, I was deeply shocked by my own thoughts. Am I really that old to resort to such clichés? When I took a scrutinizing look in the mirror, I associated again with "My God, we're all going to die!" but decided that in this context, that's a different story...

The last 2 years at Guerlain have brought many changes. Several beloved fragrances have been discontinued, and many new scents have seen the white light of the sales tables where they are presented in stores. We have discussed this development extensively on Parfumo, and I can't shake the feeling that our faces are actually getting longer. Is Shalimar Cologne also such a disappointment? At least Shalimar Cologne is the successor to Eau de Shalimar, which represented a wonderful alternative to the original Shalimar for many.

The opening is beautifully citrusy fresh. Bergamot and lemon are very prominent. I like this a lot because it is light and very suitable for warmer temperatures. The Shalimar base structure is, as with Eau de Shalimar, quickly present in a subdued form. For a brief moment, one perceives the oriental smokiness, which is vanilla-like and even slightly amber-like to my nose. I also like this.
After this very short, still promising intro, however, it becomes modern. This means in this case for the house of Guerlain: it becomes sweet. Even sugary sweet. So sweet that the old unisex character of Eau de Shalimar has definitely disappeared. To what extent freesia and white musk as new components are involved, I cannot say. This sweetness remains very linear and has hardly any depth or base. The initially stronger sillage quickly diminishes and settles into a light, modern, quite sticky sweetness for about 4-5 hours. That's it.

Shalimar Cologne is a fundamentally well-made, but indeed modern perfume. Where Shalimar was still considered the Dietrich or Joan Crawford of perfumes, Shalimar Cologne is more like the skinny jeans girl or the Britney Bitch among the flankers. That's not enough for me. This also applies to Shalimar Souffle de Parfum, L'Homme Ideal, and L'Homme Ideal Cologne.
And since I no longer see myself represented as a target group, I'm out of Guerlain's modernity for the time being.

...like this probably difficult long-distance relationship between Aimé in France and a woman named Jicky in England, this fragrance leaves me.

At the turn of the century, a perfume is created that is entirely new, that smells different from previous colognes, that polarizes, that revolutionizes, that heralds modernity. A perfume is created that has been produced for over 100 years, serving as a base for other classics. Here exists an epochal scent that gives us insight into the spirit of the previous centuries, that tells stories, that helps people to be "themselves," that means something.

And me? What do I do with it now?

My first encounter with Jicky was a long time ago. Of course, I bought the fragrance. It's a Guerlain! You have to have something like that! I tested it again and again. The EdT, the EdP, and of course the Extrait. This beautiful bottle. This art. I was fascinated by the story surrounding it. The myth of Jicky. Wow!

And then this smell! The scent! Ahhh... how? Is this a perfume? Epochal? Olympic? Hall of fame? "Well, I don't know, mate," kept running through my mind.

I smell almost nothing in this fragrance that makes me think of a perfume. The scent is oddly artificial, quite synthetic and scratchy, somewhat sweet, maybe vanilla, bergamot? Spices? Patchouli? Amber? Leather? I can't make it out. Lavender? More likely. It has a somewhat musty-sweet-sour-sweaty quality. Somehow. On my skin, it’s almost like a bit of vomit. I can't describe it any other way, and I assume that I am probably dealing with the dreaded civet here. The higher the fragrance concentration, the more intense the "I felt better afterwards!"

I can't say that Jicky smells good. Nor can I say it smells really bad. I don't find it particularly repulsive either. It just doesn't say anything to me.
I would like to claim that I understand Shalimar. So not only do I recognize the scent as a perfume in itself, but it reveals itself to me in all its fascination, beauty, and art. I also think I understand the other Guerlain classics, to smell what their scent character reveals, what their statements mean, the roles they play as perfumes. Here I can actually distinguish between like and dislike.
But Jicky? People at the time of the legendary World Exhibition in Paris with the construction of the Eiffel Tower, at the end of the Victorian era, at the beginning of the industrial revolution, perfumed themselves with this? Unimaginable. Sure, Jicky smells like something. But it doesn't open any of my senses that would recognize it as a "perfume."

I simply do not understand Jicky!

And that indeed makes me sad. Because I want to believe the world that honors this perfume so much that it must be a truly great scent.

Puzzled...

What was one of my first maxi singles Holiday for?
What did we break our arms flailing to Vogue on the dance floors in 1990?
Why did I hop around my apartment in my underwear to Madonna's music for decades?
Why did I spend a fortune on concert tickets to cheer for Madonna's gap-toothed smile from the front row?
What for this perfume, Madonna? What for?

Well, Madonna has simply reached the point where she can do whatever she wants. Even if she can't. After all, she managed to rise to the Queen of Pop despite mediocre singing. Her acting is also more desired than accomplished, the directing is so-so, and if you look at her Instagram account, you realize she urgently needs to take a photography course at night school. Unfortunately, the situation with the perfumes is no different...

The first perfume "Truth or Dare" was overwhelmingly sweet, the second perfume "Truth or Dare Naked" is, surprise surprise, overwhelmingly sweet. Peach, cocoa, vanilla, orchid, sandalwood, oud are mixed here into a chemically oriental mush that is sweet for hours on end. Even unpleasantly sweet. Essentially cheap sweet. And for a multi-millionaire style icon who once coined the phrase: "It's a waste of time to create something mediocre," it's just overloaded, unpleasant, cheap, sweet.

The urge of an aging pop icon to appeal to the young, affluent audience was already more than embarrassing in her collaborations with Britney, then with Christina Aguilera, and most recently with Lady Gaga.
And this perfume is embarrassing too.

" Ladies with an attitude,
Fellows that were in the mood
Don't just stand there, let's get to it
Strike a pose, there's nothing to it
Gag!"

At the end of the 60s of the last century, the revolution of love began.
Post-war conventions were finally thrown overboard, the mod style could no longer be called fashion, music, drugs, and festivals became the main pursuits of youth, communes were founded, everyone slept with everyone, LSD-fueled dancing as an expression of the sexual act was essential, the first rock idols established a myth because they all died at 27, Make Love Not War, the peace sign conquered the world just like untrimmed secondary sexual characteristics, women finally began to stomp free from oppression, everyone and their brother pilgrimaged to India to experience spiritual revelation (mostly it resulted in unwanted weight loss due to a nasty gastrointestinal infection), one of the best anti-war musicals took Broadway by storm: Hair. In short, the hippies rolled over the globe.

Over the years, the hippies evolved into eco-activists, part of the left, and esotericists, who then mixed all Asian, Hawaiian, and other un-Christian spiritual rites into a lump of dubious self-liberation. In the meantime, this has become a lucrative market with spiritual shops, tantra stuff, yoga spirit, and overpriced seminars where one could experience something metaphysical.

Yet the approach was so good...

So let's return to the origins and to the musical Hair and the film that came out a few years later, which perfectly implements everything I have listed so far.

Of course, the question remains: what did the hippies smell like?
To simply cater to the cliché: they smelled like Black Amber.

There is not much more to say about this fragrance, except:

"Harmony and understanding
Sympathy and trust abounding
No more falsehoods or derisions
Golden living dreams of visions
Mystic crystal revelation
And the mind

Spring is already treating us to sunny freshness and floral scents by the wayside, a song lies on our lips, summer is approaching, and, as every year, the Eurovision Song Contest is just around the corner.

However, one can hardly speak of a European singing competition anymore due to the many participating non-European countries. Whether most of the songs can be considered actual "singing" is also up for debate. After all, over the years we have heard many songs that truly had the potential to become "evergreens" and came very close to the idea of a chanson that characterized the original Grand Prix Eurovision de la Chanson Européenne.

If we take a look at the Grand Prix de la Parfum for comparison, we find in Chant d'Aromes a perfect example of a successful chanson. Composed in Chypre major, presented with a fresh, slightly soapy head voice, supported by a clear, floral orchestra, and at the end, a warm, spicy applause follows. Everything is so finely woven and stylishly presented that it is no surprise that Chant d'Aromes could have received a smooth douze points in 1962.

Now, the time of the classic chanson is more or less over, but in the 60s, when Chant d'Aromes was also composed, it had its heyday, and just like Chant d'Aromes, we still occasionally hear a classic that touches us, invigorates us, refreshes us, reminds us, and allows us to indulge. Therefore, Chant d'Aromes is not a "modern" perfume, but a classic that has managed to survive the last 50 years.
Since the early 2000s, however, the perfume chanson is only available in a reformulated remix version. The old version was more floral, brighter, and had a significantly longer breath in its presentation. The new remix version does follow the old elegant score, remains fresh, brings good cheer, is somewhat less "tante," has a dreamy base, but it is just the remix. This has made Chant d'Aromes a song that can be sung very well by both genders, especially in today's time, primarily in spring and summer, and it is also excellent for layering. Combined, for example, with Cuir Beluga, you get a full orchestra!

If the participating countries of the Eurovision Song Contest took a cue from the talent and musicality of Chant d'Aromes, the spirit of the old Grand Prix de la Chanson would live on, and perhaps we would more often enjoy listening to real "music" or smelling good perfumes.

1962. The year when only 13 perfumes hit the market and Chant d'Aromes sang its way into the hearts of the perfume world. The year when only 16 countries participated in the Grand Prix de la Chanson and Isabel Aubret won for France with her wonderful chanson "Un Premier Amour" (unfortunately, I can't post the YouTube link here, but search for it yourself and indulge in the kitsch :))