Pneumatos

Hermann Hesse's wonderful "Steps" poem just came to mind, perhaps in keeping with today's Easter celebrations. Perfume pope and Chanel expert "Dacob" already pointed out on his YouTube channel almost two weeks ago - and a corresponding entry can also be found on basenotes.com - that Chanel will now withdraw all Les Exclusifs Extraits in the 15 milliliter size from the market or has already done so! So let's sincerely hope that this is only a temporary decision and that there will be a new start at some point!

In February, there was initially a hefty price increase for the extraits from - already crazy - 240 to now 280 euros, but without any availability on the homepage. Somewhat panicked, I went on the hunt for the last remaining bottles, but found hardly any offers, neither here nor in the "bay", and the few that I did find were often at horrendous prices. When I came across a good offer for "N°19" last week, I snapped it up and remembered that a few years ago I got hold of an ancient remaining bottle from the 1970s for very little money from an estate, which has been lying dormant in my cupboard ever since.

In the spirit of today's Easter with thoughts of passing and resurrection, it seemed to me that now was a good time to test it: The fairly new bottle (8601 batch) with its pale green contents, compared to the orangey-brownish reduced rest from times past.

*New*: Fresh citrus fruits, similar to those in "Cristalle, EdT" are immediately accompanied by a distinct hyacinth, the fragrance definitely takes over the room at this stage. After a few minutes, a high-quality iris gains the upper hand, jasmine and rose remain in the background, but are easily recognizable and masterfully integrated. At this stage, I recognize a great similarity to the current "Après l'Ondée" in its powderiness and delicacy. The base can only be heard close to the skin later on, the oakmoss - although listed in the ingredients - is dimmed. Overall, the fragrance is rather short-lived, at least on my skin. Noble, powdery, slightly leathery-tart and delicate, successful and beautiful, I would summarize.

*Vintage*: With such an old fragrance, the assessment is of course only possible to a limited extent. Here, the opening is much harsher, the galbanum is thick and heavy, the citrus fruits have already withered due to their age, the hyacinth is wilting. The tart and earthy notes immediately dominate, the fragrance glows in the darkest shades of green. Gradually, I can recognize a very earthy, leathery iris, the oak moss lends great depth. Figuratively speaking, I see before me a garden in spring: the ice has melted, brown and leathery leaves from the previous year lie under the bushes and trees, the ground breathes an earthy astringency. Above it, the first daffodils and lilies of the valley are bursting forth, exuding the delicate scent of flowers. The tart soil notes still dominate, but the first flowers and fresh greenery are already in the air. This old version offers more "head cinema", has more development, more poetry, while the new one is more beautiful, rounder, but also more harmless and ultimately more airy.

In the spirit of Hesse, I now think to myself with regard to Chanel's marketing policy: "We should cheerfully walk through room after room, not clinging to any of them like a home". So sometimes I allow myself a nostalgic, bitter-sweet look back, but try to live in the present and be hopeful about the future. Perhaps there will one day be a reunion with the Chanel extraits I love so much, and if not: "Life's call to us will never end... So long, heart, take your leave and be well!"

I don't know much about "Mademoiselle" Coco Chanel, there are better informed experts here on this site. For me, the few highlights paint a picture of a woman who lived intensely and not only in a good way: a precarious background, orphanage, hard years of proving herself, successes, setbacks and, of course, numerous affairs and relationships and here, too, some tragedy.

I associate the great and early milestones of the house (No.5, 22, Cuir de Russie, etc.) less with her as a person, although they may reflect facets of her personality at certain times and in connection with certain life events.

In "Cristalle", on the other hand, I see Mademoiselle in the fading late fall of her life. The pungent spirit has remained and is evident in the effervescence of the citrus fruits, which can also easily tip over into the pointed, sharp-tongued. For me, the hyacinth expresses power and also pride - a look at the successes and the empire that has been created. Penhaligon's "Bluebell" also focuses on this note and was probably also preferred by a power-consciously dominant former British Prime Minister for this reason. There is hardly any warmth in this fragrance, even if traces of rosewood do provide some. Instead, the cool base note is complemented by an accord that makes me think a little of a full ashtray. A vice that Mademoiselle must have indulged in extensively throughout her life. What remains at the end of such a life?

You can certainly see "Cristalle" as an excellent realization of a fragrance that exudes freshness and coolness. It was certainly well suited to its time of origin and has rightly acquired a fan base ever since. For me personally, however, it is also a tribute by the former head perfumer at Chanel, Henri Robert, to his master. For me, the personality facets hinted at and assumed above also resonate in "No.19", which was created three years earlier. In my opinion, both fragrances suit people who have lived intensely, who are proud of what they have achieved, but who have also been dealt many a blow by life that has left emotional scars and lent them a certain bitterness without diminishing their dignity. But as the poem by Roland Breitenbach so beautifully puts it: "Nothing was in vain!"

(p.s.: My review refers to an older edition. I understand that the new reformulation aims for more warmth and fewer "edges". What are your experiences?)

This line of text came to mind when I tested this now hard-to-find fragrance. Isolde, struck by fate, on board a ship that takes her from Ireland to Cornwall [sic!] as spoils of war, where she is to be forcibly married to its ageing king. A sailor sings about her fate and she senses the future she is heading for.

"Sous le Vent" starts like a fresh sea breeze with a slightly aldehydic float, accompanied by a brisk and at the same time bitter bergamot note like whipping spray. Galbanum and a clear trace of anise reinforce the bitter and also slightly austere, fateful note.

The shore slowly comes into view: the green coastline exudes a distinctive scent of tarragon and a large amount of verbena. In the distant gardens of the royal castle, lavender and roses bloom. On high rocks, damp from the drizzle, moss grows luxuriantly. How fortunate that in all this wildness, Isolde's servant has taken a small bottle of balm with her on her journey, which she can now give to her mistress. But Isolde has another potion in mind, with which she now wants to take her fate into her own hands...

for me, "Sous le Vent" is an absolutely great and unfortunately almost forgotten masterpiece from the early 1930s. As is typical of many Guerlain works, you can sense the poetry that resides within it. With a tart, subtle spiciness and a soft finish, it takes you on a stormy journey that ends in great calm and peace. What happens to the protagonists in Wagner's opera "Tristan and Isolde" is, as I understand it, beyond our human comprehension and remains mysterious. Here, too, I see another parallel to this deep and impressive fragrance. The hope remains that it will return one day!

Having just tested Caron's "Parfum Sacré, Extrait" on a whim, an old bottle of "Coco, Extrait" immediately caught my eye in my collection. The connection was clear to me: both fragrances have something about them that I associate with the Baroque - opulence, great beauty, splendor and thus also a great fall into the abyss, which was always part of this era. Light-shadow, earthly life-eternity, splendor-decay.

While "Parfum Sacré" quickly takes on a glowing and heavy radiance, Chanel's aldehydes in "Coco" shine like sunlight reflected by mirrors and precious metals. Slowly the blossoms appear, for me above all ylang-ylang, orange blossom and iris. The depths begin to vibrate with warm civet and the finest wisps of benzoin and incense spread out. The sweetness of the honey is dosed just enough to give the fragrance roundness without taking away its enormous, almost regal solemnity.

Admittedly: strong words for a strong fragrance. It gives its wearer this strength and demands it of him at the same time - a tension between two opposites. What a milestone the House has created under the aegis of "Karl selig". I bow my head.

... and yet still a great one! On Sunday afternoons, I feel like testing a Chanel classic in men's perfumery: Antaeus, alluding to the giant in Greek mythology who challenged anyone who crossed his path to a fight and always won. Only Heracles' cunning to lift him up into the air away from the power-giving ground made him conquerable in the end.

I have two versions: an almost used 0201 batch (presumably from 2016, or even from 2006, i.e. an eight-year Chanel cycle before) and a brand new 8801 from 2023. Which one smells rounder and ultimately more convincing? No, I don't want to go into the eternal comparisons of different batches and the reformulations in between - although I would like to ;). As a nice Parfumo colleague recently told me, some fragrances develop after opening or breaking and gain fullness and depth. I have actually observed this with many Chanels and then I am patient.

Quite close to the mythological model, Mr. Polge Senior and Mr. Demachy did not compose the conquered Antaeus, but the untamed giant standing in his full strength, whose mother Gaea always supplied him with new energy as long as he was in contact with the ground. For me, groundedness and earthiness are the characteristics of this composition, which are ultimately also reflected in the design of the deep black bottle and the oxblood-colored packaging.

These earthy, leathery notes pulsate very darkly around patchouli, labdanum and oakmoss, with castoreum adding dark, glowing warmth. Herbs cavort above it near the base, which for me are dominated above all by the beloved clary sage (the also formerly beautiful "Zino" sends its regards). The fragrance does not rise much: above all, there is a hint of citrus fruit from the surrounding trees, which soon fades away. A lone rose nevertheless gives the whole thing a subtle twist, making the fragrance noble and less aggressive. The fragrance is therefore not quite as unattached, offensive and anti-social as its role model and is probably not intended to come across as such.

Is it still wearable, does it still fit in with our times, is it unisex? I would say yes to everything! Many a less well-made men's fragrance from the past is known to have disappeared. Antaeus has remained and will remain, as long as it is not killed off in Herculean fashion by austerity, regulation and the associated reformulations. Due to its very dark and highly spicy character, it is naturally in the tradition of classic men's fragrances, but can of course also smell good on a woman. Looking forward to your comments, I'm not going to treat myself to a whole lybian lion - a sausage sandwich will do for me, even if the scent of the giant is still clinging to me ;).