ScentFan

Sorceress's great review prompted me to hunt down a bottle and, sure enough, this belongs in the category of the fabulous orientals from the 80's. Instantly recognizable is the core citrus, Jasmine, Rose, Musk Sandalwood and Vanilla. Vetiver tempers the sweetness and I love the smoky tobacco note. This is Panthère's younger cousin, too poor for a string of pearls (Panthère's many florals, its civet and chypre notes). Yet, she haunts the second hand shops and comes out looking and smelling like a million bucks, a glittering cigarette holder in hand. To compare them, I put one on each wrist. Uninhibited evokes Cher's sexy, deep voice, while Cartier's Panthère, when it isn't growling, purrs. If you're an oriental fan, both are to-die-for must haves.

Technically, it qualifies as both a Chypre (citrus, labdanum, oak moss, musks) and an Oriental. This is no doubt why, when I discovered Panthère during a sniff-fest of incense perfumes, my character, Yasmin, and I practically passed out. Think wearing Mitsuoko and Shalimar together and it works. Exotic, opulent, unbridled beauty, this! Ultimately I eliminated it from the incense fest since the Frankincense here is far from dominant. This is a lush and fabulous fragrance, the kind that makes me wish I'd become a perfumista a lot sooner. Cartier designed it for the women who wear their sinfully extravagant panther emblem, often of diamond, emerald, gold and onyx. One such ring's on sale right now on ebay at the bargain price of $47,500. The panther emblem was introduced in 1914. In the decadent 1980’s, Cartier designed a perfume to match the ring. IMO, they succeeded in this proudly rich oriental. Per Michael Edwards’ Fragrance Wheel, it has everything an oriental should: opulent flowers (ten, including one I hadn’t encountered before, Karo-Karounde, said to be exotic and peppery animalic), vanilla (check, and Tonka bean), green or fruity top notes (grapefruit, mandarin), blends of oriental resins (amber, frankincense, labdanum) and musks (musk, civet). Conceivably, it could move into the woody oriental category because of patchouli and sandalwood (also cedar), but they don’t overpower the florals, so oriental this properly stays. It also has spice (ginger, pepper, nutmeg). It’s as if Cartier browsed the genres, picked what’s great in each one, and mixed it into Panthère in proportions that make the whole exceed its components. If I try to wear jeans with this scent, it doesn’t work because instead of relaxing I’m distracted by an urge to put on high heels, find a long, slinky dress, put my hair up, put lipstick on my lips, get jewelry on my fingers and gold dangling from my ears, then go somewhere and vamp.

Years ago, in search of a new signature scent, I stopped at a Neiman's counter and found myself in front of the Creeds, not knowing Creed but guessing it was probably okay, since it was in the store. Spraying and sniffing began, but nothing strongly appealed. I was about to give up when the manager came and asked if I had a favorite floral. That was easy. Jasmine. He disappeared and returned with a bottle of this, originally formulated for Napoleon's empress. A few sniffs and I plunked down my credit card to pay the hefty price, understanding why Eugenie urged the House of Creed to move from London (where for 100 years it had been serving the English Crown), to Paris so it could scent her 24-7. Since that counter visit, I've lived in fear of running out of Jasmin Imperatrice Eugenie. It isn't the best Jasmine I've ever smelled. For me, that honor goes to Montale's Jasmin Full. However it's definitely one of the best fragrances I've ever smelled. Eventually I learned it’s classified as an oriental and that these are big, sensual creations. Last year when I bought a perfumery kit and first smelled galaxolide, I recognized it as an underpinning of this scent and others. Experimenting, I combined it with indolic Jasmine Grandiflora and Bergamot and voila! Love. Whatever this perfume contained in Eugenie’s day, it has galaxolide now. Otherwise, I’m inclined to believe it is as noncomplex as the notes listed. Bergamot, Bulgarian Rose, Jasmine, Ambergis, Sandalwood, Vanilla are quite a narcotic enough mix to account for this empress’ beautiful airs. I wore it today to my nail salon and was swiftly complimented. Longevity and sillage have always been top notch, but recently when I bought a backup bottle, the empress didn’t seem the same. Reformulation? Lack of quality control? I’m nursing every drop of my old bottle, because the new one, though also lovely, doesn’t seem quite as grand.

If there’s anything I love more than a great oriental, it’s a wonderful Jasmine perfume, this one especially. In my Jasmine Sniff Fest (see my blog), Montale’s Jasmin Full won against enthralling finalists: Serge Lutens A La Nuit, Creed’s Jasmin Imperatrice Eugenie, Demeter’s Jasmine, Diptyque’s Olene, Odalisque by Nicolai, La Route d’Emeraude, Magnetic Scent Untitled # 1 and Enlevement au Serail by MDCI — each so glorious I bought them all. Yet even among these beauties, Jasmin Full stands out. It is a true Jasmin Soliflore, brightened by honeysuckle, sweetened by orange blossom. Somehow these two make the Jasmin more itself. I’m sure it’s Jasmine Sambac, rather than the Grandiflora, because I don’t smell the Grandiflora's treasured animalic stank. When to wear it? When life lets you down, or up. In the summer, in the spring. While drinking champagne. To this Jasmine-lover, Montale Jasmin Full is the next best thing to being in a Sambac Jasmine field at dawn.

When I first sniffed my sample of L'Heure Bleue I was so startled I closed the vial and lay it by the edge of my keyboard where I could peep at it now and then, much as one would hide behind a tree and peep if suddenly come upon a unicorn. I simply couldn't believe it. Many days later, I tried it again and, once more, couldn't believe it. None of the listed notes can account for this extravagant smell, much like the words horse, white and horn can't create a mythic animal. Bergamot is just bergamot and violet violet, after all. L'Heure Bleue, for me, is actual magic. And I'm talking the current version. I wore it when I remarried my guy. When it's time to die, I hope I'll be wearing either Bal à Versailles, Vikt, Jeke or this. Very hard to be analytical about this fragrance, but I'll try. The intense heart of carnation and neroli blasts up into the top note next to bergamot as if a sudden, opulent masquerade ball broke out in your living room. Vanilla is strong from the start, but there's simply got to be more to this fragrance than this. There must be a little musk from Sita's deer in the Ramayana, or perhaps amber from the golden tears of the daughters of the sun, crying over their brother Phaethon's grave. Sigh. (So much for analytical.) I tried to purchase a vintage version but ended up with a used bottle of what smelled like cherry syrup. Will try again at some point because I hear the original is even better than this, if that's possible. In short, I wasn't sure if I'd love or hate L'Heure Bleue on first sniff. I just kept peeping at it now and then until I realized this unicorn is real.