Josefka

With her seventh fragrance, released on 7/7 of this year, Liz Moores of Papillon Parfums has clearly come full circle. Because undoubtedly Spell 125 takes reference to one of the first fragrances of this house: Anubis.

The name Spell 125 refers to the longest passage in the Egyptian Book of the Dead. In the presence of the god Osiris, the soul of man is weighed there, and only if it weighs lighter than a feather can man's journey towards paradise continue. But before that, he has to appease 42 (divisible by 7!) other gods. No wonder that the spell No. 125 is the longest of the Book of the Dead.

But back to the scent. Right off the bat, a wonderful blend of pine needles and incense floats around the wearer. But I'll say it right now, this is not just any incense. This is some of the best frankincense (green frankinscense or in this case, Ottoman green frankincense) I've smelled to date. It has all the nuances, from citrusy tones at the beginning to light smoke in the middle to darker tones at the end.

The forest notes have already been rightly compared to a spruce needle bath here in the statements. Together with the incense, they form a never cheap-looking, very valuable fragrance. Swiss stone pine is also known to promote falling asleep - so that also fits the theme. I haven't come across hemlock as a scent before, here it's quite beguiling and I like to let it take me to North American forests. There is also some citrus involved at the beginning, as I said, which I attribute largely to the high quality incense. The myrrh also contributes some sweetness, but the fragrance never becomes too sweet.

I've always had my problems with Anubis, and especially with its afternoon marmaladey note. I like dark scents, but this was too humorless even for me. Spell 125 now is Anubis in something lighter for me. Spell 125 is also dust-dry, where Anubis tends to greasiness.
Only from the afternoon, it also becomes a little greasier, ambery and even a little dirty, which I find very successful (but I'm also into dirty scents). By the evening, this rather wicked undertone has evolved into the actual theme - very well done. Nose sticks enthusiastically to the wrist, so it should be.

For a long time I've been looking for that one scent that smells like sun baked dry woods, the kind you get from the west coast of the US. I'll keep looking, but this one is close again.

Verdict: A very big scent from Liz Moores, perhaps her best yet

Germaine Cellier created a chypre classic with Bandit in 1944. In 2012, the fragrance was brought onto the market in a reformulated version. Now, the Robert Piguet brand and its in-house perfumer Aurelien Guichard are trying to recreate the magic of the original with Bandit Suprême. I haven't been able to test Cellier's work or the 2012 yet, but Bandit Suprême totally grabbed me. I think it's terrific.
Immediately after the first spray I stand naked in the forest. Wood, moss-covered ground, fresh, bitter primordial green in its wildest form surrounds me. And when I say bitter, I mean bitter. The galbanum used here takes no prisoners, but holds the gun right to your chest. The neroli mentioned in the ingredients list, on the other hand, I can't make out on my skin.
In the now following phase of the fragrance, it becomes clearly more animalistic, and suddenly I'm standing in the middle of a tiger cage. Holla, here is but someone on riot brushed! It smells like crusty fur and not-quite-fresh straw. When first worn, I imagined a similarity with YSL's Kouros in this phase, but had to revise immediately in the direct comparison: the Kouros is sweeter and tends with its funk more in the direction of "public baths".
The phase that now sets in between the middle and the base is one of the things I like best, because now the leather comes out. It's an animalistic, used-up leather, like an old, worn-out leather chair (more brown than black) that's been sitting in a corner of the room for years and has been lived on a lot. Sweat and who knows other liquids have been soaked up by the leather, it's cracked and stained. Great Orange blossom and jasmine, as indicated in the fragrance pyramid, elude me, but perhaps the indolic nature of the jasmine adds to the wickedness of the scent.
Towards the base, the fragrance then settles a bit, becomes smoother, patchouli, ambroxan, musk and oakmoss take over and make Bandit Suprême significantly softer, rounder and more pleasing.
The durability of BS is out of this world. Sprayed on in the morning, I can smell the fragrance the next morning in the shower still clearly on the arm.

So even though I don't know the predecessors: this reformulation is going on my wish list real quick. Luca Turin writes of the 2012 version, saying it's certainly not the original, but still several unlit streets ahead of all the other leather chypres. I would say the exact same thing about Bandit Suprême. To all who love chypres, leather and animalism, a test is highly recommended.

I feel an urgent need today to do some justice to this fragrance, which has been much disrupted here, and put it somewhat in context. My impression is that its name is responsible for many misunderstandings. Because Vanille Galante (or VG) is many things, but certainly not a vanilla fragrance.

Immediately after spraying on, VG is first of all green, greener, greenest. I admit, my Vorredner*innen are right when they sniff a tick plastic, but more about that later. Between the green, the flowers immediately appear, first and foremost the lily. You have to like the scent of the lily to like VG, because it's really dominant, accompanied here by something salty and watery that some might perceive as brackish floral water. I feel more reminded of a pond on a hot day. There is something fruity about it, I would guess banana. Yes, there is a banana peel next to the pond. It's rather not green anymore, but has been there for a while. More blossoms are appearing, including ylang ylang, which I cherish.

After a few more minutes, the aforementioned plastic note melts into the banana, kind of like scorching a cup of banana fruit gnomes (I know, please don't replicate this at home). It occurs to me then, maybe that plastic note comes from the sandalwood, because it has such a subtle furniture polish note to it.

It's joined by an aquatic note of salty water. This stays quite long and is, if you like it, very sexy.

At the end, the fragrance then sounds in a sunscreen-like sweetness, but not pappig sweet, but cuddly.

The durability is, as with many of the Hermessencen, really very good. I can't relate to the frequent complaints about the oh-so-light and transparent Ellena. Yes, the fragrance floats over the skin, sometimes goes and then comes back, but is never completely gone and yet leaves you alone - that is quite great perfumery art, if you ask me. Sure, you can't expect a huge projection here, but if PERFORMANCE is the goal, there are millions of other alternatives for that. VG easily holds out a whole day.

If I now, after about three to four days, smell again at the test strip, then the airy light, dusted with flowers sunscreen is still there.

Conclusion: if you like floral scents with especially lily and ylang ylang, then give Vanilla Galante still a chance. Just do not expect a vanilla fragrance, but ellenasche haute couture

I'm nowhere near the end of my journey with Francesca Bianchi fragrances, but let me start at the beginning. In the beginning was Under My Skin, which I was immediately blown away by (review then elsewhere, but in short I thought - wow, this is already right off the bat the drydown of Chypre Palatin!), and after hearing that the FBs all have a similar backbone, I was pretty sure, ok, that's all I'll need then. Even when someone on a forum told me, watch out! - you order a sample set and poof you have several bottles of FBs standing at home! Nah, I felt relatively safe there and so (haha!) ordered several samples. Which have stuck with me ever since. (As I write this, there are two more bottles on their way to me from Italy right now. Q.E.D.)

But why is now my first comment of a FB fragrance the one about Etruscan Water? In short, because I fell in love with it very briskly. But not at first sight, not in the morning right after spraying it on, but in the afternoon, after I had already spent a whole day with it and suddenly perceived completely different facets. Also, it seems to me that this fragrance is getting a bit lost in the public perception next to the other FBs, and it doesn't deserve that.

To say it up front: for me, Etruscan Water is a masterpiece. A great chypre with a Bianchi touch, a finely honed David among all the rough-hewn fougères.

Because it starts as a chypre and then becomes a fougère, yes. Would I have thought a few years ago that I would ever wear a fougère let alone love one? No. But first came "Sartorial" by Penhaligons, and then this.

The opening already is a dream. I perceive citric notes and feel reminded of "New York Intense" by Parfums de Nicolai, but as if NYI had once been pulled through a fat liquid. And soon the so Bianchi-typical waxiness appears, what many here call their deoxyribonucleic acid. There's some sweetness (immortelle?) added to the lemony, but at no point does the scent get sticky. It's just sexy, smooth, and sexy again.

In the course, fine leather blows over every now and then when you move, but it's far from leather bangers like FB's The Black Knight (more on that in another place), but it's more like you're walking past a tannery, but it's been closed for a while for operational reasons. Plus oakmoss, which smells as if oakmoss had never been removed from the list of ingredients by the IFRA, flanked by spices and flowers, perfectly orchestrated.

From early afternoon onwards, the oakmoss and vetiver clearly emerge. And yes, I'm not hiding it, from this point on, Etruscan Water is a derringer. I even get a hairspray vibe every now and then. But, and this is the great thing: there's nothing artificial about it. Yes, it britzelt now and then in the nose, so sprays the, but that's just how it is when you press your trunk into the forest floor.

Etruscan Water is very good to wear in winter, even in very cold temperatures, as I have found in recent weeks. This surprised me at first, because I had imagined something cool, refreshing with the fragrance name. Etruscan water, however, is more like one that flows over an ancient stone (e.g. the David in Florence), already slightly mossy, while the salty air of the sea from the Maremma wafts in from afar. Of course, I'm also looking forward to wearing it in high summer, because I'm willing to bet that it will then reveal completely new facets.

My goodness, it's nice when a fragrance really grabs you! One of the two YouTubers from Wafts From the Loft (Joe?) once said - and he's damn right - Francesca Bianchi's fragrances are united by the fact that they don't act like perfumes. When you meet someone wearing FB, you don't say, "Oh, what are you wearing?" you say approvingly, "Wow, you smell good!" That's it. These fragrances become one with their wearer.

"Wow, you smell good!" At least, that's what I always tell myself when I meet myself while wearing Francesca Bianchi.

Actually, as a chypre lover, it should have been clear to me that I would like Sublime. Nevertheless, I had at first no clue what I was doing when I sprayed me from the sample added to a purchase something on the wrist. Wow!

I smell a bitter opening in the top notes, energetic, fresh, with lots of bergamot and plenty of citrus. Lots of green notes in there, it's the much talked about green grass that keeps coming through here. I don't detect the tangerine that strongly, and if I do, it's a still very green, unripe tangerine. Rather, I manage to detect a hint of mint, almost like an herbal tea where you smell into the bag. Yes, herbaceous, aldehydic it is, and cagey. A cool freshness that clears the nose, almost reminiscent of light patchouli.

But right from the start, the heart and base notes are also palpable. A bit it is like an orchestra that plays together at the beginning, before the theme is then carried out further in the winds, the violins, etc.

The heart note is a bouquet of flowers, but for me they behave more as a bouquet than as individual leaves - right at the front is the garden carnation, which is most likely to develop a life of its own.
But already you can feel, at the very bottom so to speak, the moss holding the lemon trees and flower stalks in the ground. Traces of verbeine (does the vetiver give that impression?) can also be detected.

After about an hour, the fragrance becomes soapier, woodier too, ambery notes come in, which are the foreground at noon, after about four hours. At this point I would describe Sublime as soapy sweetness or rather sweet soapiness, very interesting. Very grown up too, I feel my backbone strengthened. The term "Mother Nature" comes to mind - the grassy notes plus the embrace of a caring soul who's been known to put a pudding on the stove give that impression, I guess. Security, self-confidence.

After about three hours, a little civet joins in, very subtle but, you have to go very close to the skin to smell that, but there it is evident. Sublime is not a stinker, but pleasing? Nah, just not either. Bit predatory must be.

At the very end, when the vanilla comes in on quiet paws and the fragrance slowly fades out, this mixture reminds me of Vétiver Tonka by Hermès - also such a fragrance, which develops its tension from opposites.

It may be that, as Luca Turin writes in "Perfumes", the sublime of these days has nothing in common with the sublime of yesteryear, that what was previously a revelation has now degenerated into a disjointed mishmash - I only know the new formulation and find it sophisticated, tart and yet embracing.

Actually, as a chypre lover, it should have been clear to me that a small bottle of this had to be purchased immediately. And so it was, of course.