Guerlain: l'Heure Bleue

L’Heure Bleue and I have had a troubled history. The first time I tried it, it was unconditional love –or so I thought. It had the almond veil of Mitsouko, with something really interesting happening underneath. I bought a bottle of EdP, and not realising how strong it is compared to the EdT I had tested, I used so much I nearly suffocated myself. I smelled a really distorted version of the fragrance that was almost painful. After that it just wasn’t the same. I tried and tried, but I seemed to perceive it differently. It was like diesel and coaltar mixed with iris.

Then I tried an experiment. I thought if I put some on a blotter and kept it several feet away from me, I would catch the odd delicate whiff and we could get reacquainted. Well it worked. At first I smelled the old wooden medicine chest in the bathroom at home that hasn’t been used in years –which is not entirely different from what others describe. Then the magic happened. The fragrance opened up, with the notes gleaming like jewels, as the neroli in the centre as a dry and sumptuous counterpoint to the cool anise and iris. I was finally smelling the fragrance that had captivated me when I first tried it, so we’re in love.

I’m wearing it again today…

Chanel: Pour Monsieur

Chanel Pour Monsieur is a fragrance that it would be easy to pass by, as it might seem like a rather generic mens cologne. However I think that would be a mistake. Pour Monsieur is very refined and elegant, and as such it doesn't announce its presence too loudly. There aren't any exotic notes, and it is very unlikely that you will notice anything you haven't already come across, however what does distinguish this fragrance is how beautifully it is composed.

The top notes of lemon and petitgrain are set against the bitter-sweet base of oakmoss and woods. A lightly spiced castoreum note appears in the middle-ground, which is a nod to the traditional masculine fragrance, but unlike many power-scents from the '70s and '80s, it just adds a touch of colour to the fragrance, which is otherwise a very pure chypre. The blending is and ingredients are exquisite, making this a good enough fragrance for any occasion, while still being understated and elegant enough for everyday wear. If I had a signature fragrance this could be it, as I can put it on and forget about it, yet still have little reminders throughout the day of how good it is. Unfortunately my wandering nose has not allowed me to stay faithful to any scent, but I will never be without Pour Monsieur. Incidentally, there is another scent that goes by the same name but Chanel call it an EdT Concentree. It is not the same scent.

Guerlain: Djedi

I met a traveller from an antique land
Who said: Two vast and trunkless legs of stone
Stand in the desert. Near them, on the sand,
Half sunk, a shattered visage lies, whose frown
And wrinkled lip, and sneer of cold command
Tell that its sculptor well those passions read
Which yet survive, stamped on these lifeless things,
The hand that mocked them and the heart that fed.
And on the pedestal these words appear:
"My name is Ozymandias, king of kings:
Look on my works, ye Mighty, and despair!"
Nothing beside remains. Round the decay
Of that colossal wreck, boundless and bare
The lone and level sands stretch far away..

OZYMANDIAS Percy Bysshe Shelley

There is something dark and strange about Djedi. It has an almost solemn quality, like something being burnt in a temple. It's smokey incense rises over a rich leathery base, which has all of the "thickness" associated with old Guerlains. However, the customary vanilla is nowhere to be found, but given the dry nature of the composition, the almost sweet facet of the civet is as close as this perfume gets to the vanillic quality of the Guerlinade. While the civet gives the perfume an animalic depth, it is far from a conventional raunchy base. Here it is like the spirit of some real living animal haunts the perfume.

The floral aspect of the fragrance adds a sensual touch, but never takes away from the uncompromising dry and dark nature of the composition -it merely expands it sensuality. The one note that dominates above all is vetiver, which emerges from the dark smouldering resin, while the sharpness of the grass is a green counterpoint to the dark and dense base. This dark and resinous quality, combined with the burning spices, is what gives Djedi it exotic nature. In spite of the powerfully evocative ingredients, there is nothing loud about this perfume. It has a sense of stillness about it, like a statue that is indifferent to whether we actually discover it or not.

A lot has been made of the similarity between Djedi and Vero Kern's Onda, and it is easy to see why. Both perfumes are dark, leathery, animalic, and dry vetivers, and both are also extraordinarily vivid, but for me Onda depicts a certain wild ferocity whereas Djedi has a quiet and eerie solemnity -like glimpsing some arcane ritual of a long lost civilisation. 

If I had a time machine I would dearly love to go back to Ancient Egypt, but on the way I think I'd have to make a stop in Paris in 1926 to meet the person who this fascinating perfume was made for.