Karenin

I typically approach perfumes with a reputation with some trepidation as I'm not certain to what extent their reputation is deserved. “Amber Sultan” from Serge Lutens is a perfect example to illustrate this point. I adore amber-centred scents, which, of course, does not mean I love a fragrance only because it contains this note. However pleasant amber may be to my nose, I only take to an amber fragrance if it manages to grab my attention or intrigues me somehow.

The head of “Ambre Sultan” plays an intensively herbal and aromatic overture, thanks to the presence of bay leaf, oregano and coriander. Nevertheless, there's no trace of freshness; on the contrary, the herbal trio produces a dense aroma, indicating which path the fragrance is going to take next. After the herbal introduction, the resinous stage begins. The resins enrich the perfume with thickness as well as sweetness. Without further ado, the resinous curtain slowly rises to reveal the focal note of the composition. The amber in “Ambre Sultan” rests on a silky, vanillic cushion and is of a truly superior quality. It enwraps its wearer in the most exquisite olfactory veil of sensuality.

What makes “Ambre Sultan” so fascinating to me is that every time I spray it on, it feels like I'm embarking on an adventurous treasure hunt. First, there's a quick flight over a herbal garden, then a plunge into a thick, resinous syrup before finally reaching the gold in the form of the purest amber. Together with “Ambre Russe” by Parfum d'Empire, “Ambre Sultan” is an undisputed masterpiece among amber-centred fragrances. Absolutely divine!

The source of inspiration for the fragrances composed by the Swiss perfumer Vero Kern becomes obvious to even a mildly experienced perfumista: it's the golden years of perfumery, when creativity, innovation and willingness to undertake risks were not odd concepts but standards by which a perfumer's erudition and craftsmanship could be judged. Having said that, Ms Kern's perfumes are no mere blasts from the past. She sprinkles each fragrance with an air of modernity, making them accessible to today's perfume enthusiasts. Nonetheless, at the same time, she makes sure they do not become objects of mass adoration.

The skilful mix of “Mito”'s notes (predominantly citruses and flowers) creates one of the most pleasant effects I've experienced in a fragrance. This is what a sun-drenched spring day should smell like: zesty-sweet, invigorating, enveloping; in a word joyous. Like that morning in the middle of June many years ago when Mrs Dalloway decided to buy the flowers herself. “Mito” is an olfactory walk through a well-kept, lush garden whose flowers, bushes and trees invite you to linger in their shade, breathe in their intoxicating aroma and daydream. Since “Mito” is a nod to classic chypres, oakmoss is another essential note present. In spite of their reputation for not being the most approachable sorts of fragrance, the haters of classic (or any) chypres shouldn't be put off by “Mito”. On the contrary, in my opinion, thanks to Vero Kern's ability to add a “modern twist” to her perfumes, “Mito” is anything but scary or standoffish.

To this reviewer, “Mito” is joie de vivre bottled. I can't get enough of this lively blend of top-quality materials and the positive effect this composition has on all my senses whenever I spray it on. I've put “Mito” on my wish list, where, unfortunately, it will probably remain for a while as it's rather pricey. But being aware of its existence is pretty comforting, too. Bravissimo, Vero!

I got my hands on a sample of “Maai” by Bogue Profumo in the middle of last summer’s heatwave, so although I felt the urge to satisfy my curiosity right away, I concluded I needed to wait for the colder months in order to do this perfume justice.

“Maai” is a thoroughbred animalic chypre, no doubt about that. It begins with an aldehydic blast of massive proportions. I can well imagine some people wrinkling their noses or gasping for a lungful of fresh air following the perfume’s rough opening. Fear not, my dear perfumistas, for this pungent aldehydic overture only lasts for a tick and soon a tuberose note emerges. Now I’ve tested several tuberose-centred fragrances (e.g. Histoires de Parfums’ “Tuberose 3: Animale“, Masque Milano’s “Luci ed Ombre” or Anatole Lebreton’s “L’Eau Scandaleuse”), but Antonio Gardoni’s rendition of the flower resembles nothing I’ve experienced before. Forget your typical seductive, playfully naughty, creamy tuberose; what you get in “Maai” is an odour of a green and white, freshly crushed tuberose flower. The two notes complement each other perfectly and create a lovely blend of the synthetic and the natural. Finally, the animalic notes of musk and civet enter the scene. There is no need to panic, however, as they are treated light-handedly, with the effect of enveloping the wearer in the most sensual aroma.

A few reviewers have already noted that “Maai” can hardly be described as earthshattering. Perhaps that was not the purpose of its creation. Perhaps the perfumer’s intention was to demonstrate that today’s perfumery is far from dead, and that beautiful fragrances, be it those resolutely modern ones or those paying tribute to the classics, are still produced. From this point of view, I consider “Maai” to be quite an achievement.

Composing an original AND top-notch citrus-centred fragrance is a tough nut to crack. There are two major problems with this category of scents: first of all, many of them have very little or nothing new to add to the genre idea-wise (the infamous “been there/done that” effect). Secondly, even if they present a novel idea, the initial excitement is often swiftly subdued by their miserable longevity. “O/E”, Antonio Gardoni's follow-up fragrance after the highly-praised “Maai” is a take on the citrus theme. Even though I suspected (or wished?) his treatment of the genre would successfully avoid the typical pitfalls, I approached his perfume with a fair amount of trepidation.

In no way does “O/E” hide the fact that it's a thoroughbred citrus fragrance. The initial blast of a plethora of citric notes (according to Pierre de Nishapur's blog there´s bergamot, lemon, lime, lemongrass, neroli – you name it!) is both powerful and complex. They are so well-blended that although the head is unmistakeably citrus-based, it´s quite hard to dissect it into individual notes. The magic, fortunately, does not stop at this point. After the citric extravaganza settles down, spices (cloves, eucalyptus and pine in particular) and woods (cedar) come to the forefront. Coupled with oakmoss, they give “O/E” a very classical feel, not too dissimilar from 70s/80s masculine colognes, such as Saint Laurent's “Pour Homme”. This is not to say that I see “O/E” as a masculine fragrance; it just possesses this funky retro air. Reportedly, Gardoni also added Iso E Super to his composition in order to contrast natural and artificial ingredients. I must admit my nose does pick up a slight (artificial?) haze in the heart which, during some wearings, turned a little harsh, but it´s not something that would disrupt the overall structure of the composition. When you think you've reached the end of the road, “O/E” pulls one last rabbit out of its hat: an animalic note (it smells like civet to me). Since it pops up in the extreme drydown, instead of roaring it purrs. Nevertheless, it provides the fragrance with a pleasantly tongue-in-cheek signoff.

I'm not sure “O/E” will be embraced as warmly as its elder sibling “Maai” by the perfume community, but in my opinion, despite not being perfect, “O/E” is an impressive attempt at creating a solid and versatile citrus fragrance. It's an effective fusion of the modern and the classical, using high-quality raw materials. Finally, its longevity and projection are way above average for this sort of scent, which must cheer the heart of every citrus perfume lover.