Annick Goutal- Ninfeo Mio

When it comes to perfumes centered around a very specific note, one can sometimes wonder if it's possible (or necessary) to have a new or different interpretation. Of course, the obsessed among us would tell you there can never be too many leather perfumes. Or vetiver. Or tuberose.

Or fig.

Ninfeo Mio, the newest perfume from Annick Goutal (created by the house's perfumer Isabelle Doyen) is a fig scent, and even I was surprised at the originality of this beautiful composition. From the sharp mixed citrus notes of the opening to the green depths of the perfume (galbanum, and quite a bit of it, judging by the excellent staying power), there's so much to enjoy in Ninfeo Mio I'm in a fig-lover heaven.

The perfumer's inspiration, the Italian Giardino di Ninfa, is evident. Citron, lemon, bitter orange and fig trees growing on an ancient stream, shading and protecting the ancient grounds. There's something comforting and captivating in aromas that have been there since ancient times (though the garden as it is today is the result of restorative work from the 1920s). It's beautiful and almost wholesome, but just wild enough to make you think of frolicking fauns and maybe a bacchanalia (or two) going on among the trees and shrubs. Ninfeo Mio is really that much fun to wear.

Like last year's Goutal, Un Matin d'Orage, Ninfeo Mio is an eau de toilette. I can't help but wish for an extrait de parfum. Not because it lacks anything, it's just my own desire to indulge in this green fig to the max. As I've mentioned, it stays on my skin for many hours. The citrus notes are gone, of course, but the fig, galbanum and general greenery delight me for more than 12 hours. It can be sprayed with abandon without ever feeling too heavy, and the lack of any sweetness makes Ninfeo Mio and ideal summer scent. On a man's skin (the husband's) there's a lot more wood and herbs than I smell on myself, no matter how much or how little I apply. It's the most unisex fig scent I've come across, even more than the crystalline Figuier by Heeley.

Annick Goutal's Ninfeo Mio is available right now in few select locations such as Bergdorf Goodman and Henri Bendel in NYC (and Harrods in the UK). I bought my 100 ml bottle ($115, the ribbed feminine version. The juice inside is identical to the one in the rectangular one) at Henri Bendel. Neither store offers it online yet (Harrods does, but they do not ship overseas), but you can order by phone. I have to say that I'm deeply impressed with the change I see at Henri Bendel's perfume department. There's a serious effort there to become a major force in luxury and niche perfume. Now if they only discover the joy of e-commerce.

Photos of Giardini di Ninfa by Komakino1976 and Fabio C. Favaloro on Flickr.

Annick Goutal- Ninfeo Mio

When it comes to perfumes centered around a very specific note, one can sometimes wonder if it's possible (or necessary) to have a new or different interpretation. Of course, the obsessed among us would tell you there can never be too many leather perfumes. Or vetiver. Or tuberose.

Or fig.

Ninfeo Mio, the newest perfume from Annick Goutal (created by the house's perfumer Isabelle Doyen) is a fig scent, and even I was surprised at the originality of this beautiful composition. From the sharp mixed citrus notes of the opening to the green depths of the perfume (galbanum, and quite a bit of it, judging by the excellent staying power), there's so much to enjoy in Ninfeo Mio I'm in a fig-lover heaven.

The perfumer's inspiration, the Italian Giardino di Ninfa, is evident. Citron, lemon, bitter orange and fig trees growing on an ancient stream, shading and protecting the ancient grounds. There's something comforting and captivating in aromas that have been there since ancient times (though the garden as it is today is the result of restorative work from the 1920s). It's beautiful and almost wholesome, but just wild enough to make you think of frolicking fauns and maybe a bacchanalia (or two) going on among the trees and shrubs. Ninfeo Mio is really that much fun to wear.

Like last year's Goutal, Un Matin d'Orage, Ninfeo Mio is an eau de toilette. I can't help but wish for an extrait de parfum. Not because it lacks anything, it's just my own desire to indulge in this green fig to the max. As I've mentioned, it stays on my skin for many hours. The citrus notes are gone, of course, but the fig, galbanum and general greenery delight me for more than 12 hours. It can be sprayed with abandon without ever feeling too heavy, and the lack of any sweetness makes Ninfeo Mio and ideal summer scent. On a man's skin (the husband's) there's a lot more wood and herbs than I smell on myself, no matter how much or how little I apply. It's the most unisex fig scent I've come across, even more than the crystalline Figuier by Heeley.

Annick Goutal's Ninfeo Mio is available right now in few select locations such as Bergdorf Goodman and Henri Bendel in NYC (and Harrods in the UK). I bought my 100 ml bottle ($115, the ribbed feminine version. The juice inside is identical to the one in the rectangular one) at Henri Bendel. Neither store offers it online yet (Harrods does, but they do not ship overseas), but you can order by phone. I have to say that I'm deeply impressed with the change I see at Henri Bendel's perfume department. There's a serious effort there to become a major force in luxury and niche perfume. Now if they only discover the joy of e-commerce.

Photos of Giardini di Ninfa by Komakino1976 and Fabio C. Favaloro on Flickr.

Annick Goutal- Ninfeo Mio

When it comes to perfumes centered around a very specific note, one can sometimes wonder if it's possible (or necessary) to have a new or different interpretation. Of course, the obsessed among us would tell you there can never be too many leather perfumes. Or vetiver. Or tuberose.

Or fig.

Ninfeo Mio, the newest perfume from Annick Goutal (created by the house's perfumer Isabelle Doyen) is a fig scent, and even I was surprised at the originality of this beautiful composition. From the sharp mixed citrus notes of the opening to the green depths of the perfume (galbanum, and quite a bit of it, judging by the excellent staying power), there's so much to enjoy in Ninfeo Mio I'm in a fig-lover heaven.

The perfumer's inspiration, the Italian Giardino di Ninfa, is evident. Citron, lemon, bitter orange and fig trees growing on an ancient stream, shading and protecting the ancient grounds. There's something comforting and captivating in aromas that have been there since ancient times (though the garden as it is today is the result of restorative work from the 1920s). It's beautiful and almost wholesome, but just wild enough to make you think of frolicking fauns and maybe a bacchanalia (or two) going on among the trees and shrubs. Ninfeo Mio is really that much fun to wear.

Like last year's Goutal, Un Matin d'Orage, Ninfeo Mio is an eau de toilette. I can't help but wish for an extrait de parfum. Not because it lacks anything, it's just my own desire to indulge in this green fig to the max. As I've mentioned, it stays on my skin for many hours. The citrus notes are gone, of course, but the fig, galbanum and general greenery delight me for more than 12 hours. It can be sprayed with abandon without ever feeling too heavy, and the lack of any sweetness makes Ninfeo Mio and ideal summer scent. On a man's skin (the husband's) there's a lot more wood and herbs than I smell on myself, no matter how much or how little I apply. It's the most unisex fig scent I've come across, even more than the crystalline Figuier by Heeley.

Annick Goutal's Ninfeo Mio is available right now in few select locations such as Bergdorf Goodman and Henri Bendel in NYC (and Harrods in the UK). I bought my 100 ml bottle ($115, the ribbed feminine version. The juice inside is identical to the one in the rectangular one) at Henri Bendel. Neither store offers it online yet (Harrods does, but they do not ship overseas), but you can order by phone. I have to say that I'm deeply impressed with the change I see at Henri Bendel's perfume department. There's a serious effort there to become a major force in luxury and niche perfume. Now if they only discover the joy of e-commerce.

Photos of Giardini di Ninfa by Komakino1976 and Fabio C. Favaloro on Flickr.

Annick Goutal Eau du Fier

Eau du Fier is one of those perfumes that make me wonder if I actually enjoy the way they smell or the fact they're so unusual and unconventional. It's probably a mix of both, since this Annick Goutal creation (by house perfumer Isabelle Doyen) is not the only tarry perfume I like. But there's something to be said for the uniqueness and element of surprise whenever I spray myself with it.

Eau du Fier smells mostly like a cocktail of Lapsang Souchong with a splash of non-sweet orange juice. The opening is extremely smoky, medicinal and would challenge many people's idea of perfume, unless they're familiar with CDG Tar, Tauer's Lonestar Memories or at least Bulgari Black and Tea For Two by L'Artisan. Still the last two have a nice dose of vanilla that makes them go down easily enough, while the Goutal has little to none sweetness. My skin tends to neutralize heavy smoky notes and reduces them to their woody or shrubbery origin. Eau du Fier becomes very much a tea scent with an almost sheer quality. It's a lot less heavy than one would assume after the birch tar assault of the top notes and settles very close to the skin, feeling more exotic than avant-garde.

I enjoy the entire journey and find it very wearable on days I don't have to mix with the general public which might raise an eyebrow at a woman who smells of a burnt substance. It's not a perfume I'd recommend to wear for a romantic date for either men or women, unless the object of your desire is a tea connoisseur who would appreciate the nuances. Still, the bottom line is that Eau du Fier smells good in an off-the-beaten-path way and is worth becoming part of one's perfume journey. If you can find some, that is.

Eau du Fier was released in 2000 and vanished from our shelves around 2005. A few European Annick Goutal boutiques had it until a couple of years ago and while the official Goutal website doesn't even mention its existence, a handful of bottles still make an appearance overseas, which is how I found and purchased mine.

Photo: theteacentre.com.au

Annick Goutal Eau du Fier

Eau du Fier is one of those perfumes that make me wonder if I actually enjoy the way they smell or the fact they're so unusual and unconventional. It's probably a mix of both, since this Annick Goutal creation (by house perfumer Isabelle Doyen) is not the only tarry perfume I like. But there's something to be said for the uniqueness and element of surprise whenever I spray myself with it.

Eau du Fier smells mostly like a cocktail of Lapsang Souchong with a splash of non-sweet orange juice. The opening is extremely smoky, medicinal and would challenge many people's idea of perfume, unless they're familiar with CDG Tar, Tauer's Lonestar Memories or at least Bulgari Black and Tea For Two by L'Artisan. Still the last two have a nice dose of vanilla that makes them go down easily enough, while the Goutal has little to none sweetness. My skin tends to neutralize heavy smoky notes and reduces them to their woody or shrubbery origin. Eau du Fier becomes very much a tea scent with an almost sheer quality. It's a lot less heavy than one would assume after the birch tar assault of the top notes and settles very close to the skin, feeling more exotic than avant-garde.

I enjoy the entire journey and find it very wearable on days I don't have to mix with the general public which might raise an eyebrow at a woman who smells of a burnt substance. It's not a perfume I'd recommend to wear for a romantic date for either men or women, unless the object of your desire is a tea connoisseur who would appreciate the nuances. Still, the bottom line is that Eau du Fier smells good in an off-the-beaten-path way and is worth becoming part of one's perfume journey. If you can find some, that is.

Eau du Fier was released in 2000 and vanished from our shelves around 2005. A few European Annick Goutal boutiques had it until a couple of years ago and while the official Goutal website doesn't even mention its existence, a handful of bottles still make an appearance overseas, which is how I found and purchased mine.

Photo: theteacentre.com.au

Annick Goutal Eau du Fier

Eau du Fier is one of those perfumes that make me wonder if I actually enjoy the way they smell or the fact they're so unusual and unconventional. It's probably a mix of both, since this Annick Goutal creation (by house perfumer Isabelle Doyen) is not the only tarry perfume I like. But there's something to be said for the uniqueness and element of surprise whenever I spray myself with it.

Eau du Fier smells mostly like a cocktail of Lapsang Souchong with a splash of non-sweet orange juice. The opening is extremely smoky, medicinal and would challenge many people's idea of perfume, unless they're familiar with CDG Tar, Tauer's Lonestar Memories or at least Bulgari Black and Tea For Two by L'Artisan. Still the last two have a nice dose of vanilla that makes them go down easily enough, while the Goutal has little to none sweetness. My skin tends to neutralize heavy smoky notes and reduces them to their woody or shrubbery origin. Eau du Fier becomes very much a tea scent with an almost sheer quality. It's a lot less heavy than one would assume after the birch tar assault of the top notes and settles very close to the skin, feeling more exotic than avant-garde.

I enjoy the entire journey and find it very wearable on days I don't have to mix with the general public which might raise an eyebrow at a woman who smells of a burnt substance. It's not a perfume I'd recommend to wear for a romantic date for either men or women, unless the object of your desire is a tea connoisseur who would appreciate the nuances. Still, the bottom line is that Eau du Fier smells good in an off-the-beaten-path way and is worth becoming part of one's perfume journey. If you can find some, that is.

Eau du Fier was released in 2000 and vanished from our shelves around 2005. A few European Annick Goutal boutiques had it until a couple of years ago and while the official Goutal website doesn't even mention its existence, a handful of bottles still make an appearance overseas, which is how I found and purchased mine.

Photo: theteacentre.com.au

Annick Goutal Musc Nomade (Les Orientalistes)

The first couple of times I tested Musc Nomade from a sample vial I thought I was anosmic to something in its opening. All I got for the first 30 seconds was a sinus burning alcoholic smell before it turned to an actual perfume. Later wearings- both by dabbing or spraying- were much more pleasurable. I don't have any explanation to this, other than telling you that I had a very similar experience with Le Labo's Los Angeles Exclusive, Musc 25, so it's definitely something about one of the musks used in these perfumes.

Musc Nomade is the fourth perfume in Annick Goutal's Les Orientalistes series. It was released after the original trio (Ambre Fetiche, Myrrhe Ardente and Encens Flamboyant) but feels like an integral part of the collection. It's a definite departure from what we used to think of as a "typical Goutal" and seems to have been inspired and influenced by the Lutens/Sheldrake school of perfumery. Actually, when Les Orientalistes were first released in 2007 I wasn't completely convinced that anyone who owns and wears the likes of Ambre Sultan, Chergui or Fumerie Turque would really need the gentler, kinder Goutals. I was wrong, of course.

Musc Nomade might be somewhat related to Lutens' MKK. It shares that warm, smooth skin quality that feels to me soft, fuzzy and slightly fruity, but others find it dirty, beasty and armpity. It's definitely not a clean laundry musk and doesn't smell like all those faceless mainstream perfumes that mention "white musk" in their base notes. Musc Nomade might be more understated and easy on the uninitiated nose than the Mongolian warrior by Uncle Serge, but it's not any less sensual.

Spraying Musc Nomade doesn't produce a scary, horse galloping sillage. It keeps to itself in my personal space and stays there for very long hours. I sometimes forget I'm wearing it until I get that familiar whiff of something pleasant from my cleavage area, and it's part perfume and part skin. I guess it's the greatest compliment one can give a scent- when it becomes so much a part of you.

Just like my scent twin predicted many moons ago, I had to have it. I started with a couple of mini splash bottles purchased online and decanted some into a spray atomizer which seems like the better method of application in this case. I ended up buying a full size bottle because I can't have too many musks.

Musc Nomade and the rest of the Les Orientalistes ($175, 100 ml) seem to have vanished from the shelves of many department stores, including my local Saks and Bloomingdale's, but are still available from them as well as from Barneys online (including in the 50 ml bottles, $115). However, a couple of online retailers such as Rei Rien sell them at a (very) deep discount.

Photo of Jean Harlow: thedirtythirties.tumblr.com

Annick Goutal Musc Nomade (Les Orientalistes)

The first couple of times I tested Musc Nomade from a sample vial I thought I was anosmic to something in its opening. All I got for the first 30 seconds was a sinus burning alcoholic smell before it turned to an actual perfume. Later wearings- both by dabbing or spraying- were much more pleasurable. I don't have any explanation to this, other than telling you that I had a very similar experience with Le Labo's Los Angeles Exclusive, Musc 25, so it's definitely something about one of the musks used in these perfumes.

Musc Nomade is the fourth perfume in Annick Goutal's Les Orientalistes series. It was released after the original trio (Ambre Fetiche, Myrrhe Ardente and Encens Flamboyant) but feels like an integral part of the collection. It's a definite departure from what we used to think of as a "typical Goutal" and seems to have been inspired and influenced by the Lutens/Sheldrake school of perfumery. Actually, when Les Orientalistes were first released in 2007 I wasn't completely convinced that anyone who owns and wears the likes of Ambre Sultan, Chergui or Fumerie Turque would really need the gentler, kinder Goutals. I was wrong, of course.

Musc Nomade might be somewhat related to Lutens' MKK. It shares that warm, smooth skin quality that feels to me soft, fuzzy and slightly fruity, but others find it dirty, beasty and armpity. It's definitely not a clean laundry musk and doesn't smell like all those faceless mainstream perfumes that mention "white musk" in their base notes. Musc Nomade might be more understated and easy on the uninitiated nose than the Mongolian warrior by Uncle Serge, but it's not any less sensual.

Spraying Musc Nomade doesn't produce a scary, horse galloping sillage. It keeps to itself in my personal space and stays there for very long hours. I sometimes forget I'm wearing it until I get that familiar whiff of something pleasant from my cleavage area, and it's part perfume and part skin. I guess it's the greatest compliment one can give a scent- when it becomes so much a part of you.

Just like my scent twin predicted many moons ago, I had to have it. I started with a couple of mini splash bottles purchased online and decanted some into a spray atomizer which seems like the better method of application in this case. I ended up buying a full size bottle because I can't have too many musks.

Musc Nomade and the rest of the Les Orientalistes ($175, 100 ml) seem to have vanished from the shelves of many department stores, including my local Saks and Bloomingdale's, but are still available from them as well as from Barneys online (including in the 50 ml bottles, $115). However, a couple of online retailers such as Rei Rien sell them at a (very) deep discount.

Photo of Jean Harlow: thedirtythirties.tumblr.com

Annick Goutal Musc Nomade (Les Orientalistes)

The first couple of times I tested Musc Nomade from a sample vial I thought I was anosmic to something in its opening. All I got for the first 30 seconds was a sinus burning alcoholic smell before it turned to an actual perfume. Later wearings- both by dabbing or spraying- were much more pleasurable. I don't have any explanation to this, other than telling you that I had a very similar experience with Le Labo's Los Angeles Exclusive, Musc 25, so it's definitely something about one of the musks used in these perfumes.

Musc Nomade is the fourth perfume in Annick Goutal's Les Orientalistes series. It was released after the original trio (Ambre Fetiche, Myrrhe Ardente and Encens Flamboyant) but feels like an integral part of the collection. It's a definite departure from what we used to think of as a "typical Goutal" and seems to have been inspired and influenced by the Lutens/Sheldrake school of perfumery. Actually, when Les Orientalistes were first released in 2007 I wasn't completely convinced that anyone who owns and wears the likes of Ambre Sultan, Chergui or Fumerie Turque would really need the gentler, kinder Goutals. I was wrong, of course.

Musc Nomade might be somewhat related to Lutens' MKK. It shares that warm, smooth skin quality that feels to me soft, fuzzy and slightly fruity, but others find it dirty, beasty and armpity. It's definitely not a clean laundry musk and doesn't smell like all those faceless mainstream perfumes that mention "white musk" in their base notes. Musc Nomade might be more understated and easy on the uninitiated nose than the Mongolian warrior by Uncle Serge, but it's not any less sensual.

Spraying Musc Nomade doesn't produce a scary, horse galloping sillage. It keeps to itself in my personal space and stays there for very long hours. I sometimes forget I'm wearing it until I get that familiar whiff of something pleasant from my cleavage area, and it's part perfume and part skin. I guess it's the greatest compliment one can give a scent- when it becomes so much a part of you.

Just like my scent twin predicted many moons ago, I had to have it. I started with a couple of mini splash bottles purchased online and decanted some into a spray atomizer which seems like the better method of application in this case. I ended up buying a full size bottle because I can't have too many musks.

Musc Nomade and the rest of the Les Orientalistes ($175, 100 ml) seem to have vanished from the shelves of many department stores, including my local Saks and Bloomingdale's, but are still available from them as well as from Barneys online (including in the 50 ml bottles, $115). However, a couple of online retailers such as Rei Rien sell them at a (very) deep discount.

Photo of Jean Harlow: thedirtythirties.tumblr.com

Annick Goutal Myrrhe Ardente (Les Orientalistes)

It seems that Myrrhe Ardente is the least popular scent in Annick Goutal's Les Orientalistes series, which is too bad because this is a beautiful and complex composition that deserves more than the label of a "root bear float". But I understand where it came from and why. There is something very earthy and root-like in the heart. Myrrhe Ardent is also a little different than the other Les Orientalistes. Somehow, it smells less personal, more like a "thing", which makes me a bit self-conscious when I'm wearing it in public.

I'm not really sure why it feels this way. After all, this is a much softer myrrh than the Mediterranean shrubbery of Diptyque L’Eau Trois, a scent I love and wear, and is the myrrhiest one I can think of. Myrrhe Ardent is sweet, resinous and has enough vanilla in the drydown to take the edge off the classic combination of myrrh and frankincense. It shouldn't remind anyone of religious rituals. Actually, It's so unique it doesn't remind me of anything in particular- I just enjoy the ride.

As others (like Kevin on Now Smell This) have observed, Myrrhe Ardente and the rest of the Les Orientalistes play well with each other and layer beautifully with other scents. I'll have to try his suggestion for layering it with Uncle Serge's Miel de Bois, and would also experiment with Un Bois Vanille (basically, almost anything layers well with UBV, and it wouldn't be the first Goutal do so- try it with Eau d'Hadrien). I like trying different ratios of Myrrhe Ardente and Ambre Fetiche. I tend to go overboard with the amber, but that's just how I roll. If you have more layering ideas, please share them.

Annick Goutal Myrrhe Ardente (Les Orientalistes)

It seems that Myrrhe Ardente is the least popular scent in Annick Goutal's Les Orientalistes series, which is too bad because this is a beautiful and complex composition that deserves more than the label of a "root bear float". But I understand where it came from and why. There is something very earthy and root-like in the heart. Myrrhe Ardent is also a little different than the other Les Orientalistes. Somehow, it smells less personal, more like a "thing", which makes me a bit self-conscious when I'm wearing it in public.

I'm not really sure why it feels this way. After all, this is a much softer myrrh than the Mediterranean shrubbery of Diptyque L’Eau Trois, a scent I love and wear, and is the myrrhiest one I can think of. Myrrhe Ardent is sweet, resinous and has enough vanilla in the drydown to take the edge off the classic combination of myrrh and frankincense. It shouldn't remind anyone of religious rituals. Actually, It's so unique it doesn't remind me of anything in particular- I just enjoy the ride.

As others (like Kevin on Now Smell This) have observed, Myrrhe Ardente and the rest of the Les Orientalistes play well with each other and layer beautifully with other scents. I'll have to try his suggestion for layering it with Uncle Serge's Miel de Bois, and would also experiment with Un Bois Vanille (basically, almost anything layers well with UBV, and it wouldn't be the first Goutal do so- try it with Eau d'Hadrien). I like trying different ratios of Myrrhe Ardente and Ambre Fetiche. I tend to go overboard with the amber, but that's just how I roll. If you have more layering ideas, please share them.

Annick Goutal Myrrhe Ardente (Les Orientalistes)

It seems that Myrrhe Ardente is the least popular scent in Annick Goutal's Les Orientalistes series, which is too bad because this is a beautiful and complex composition that deserves more than the label of a "root bear float". But I understand where it came from and why. There is something very earthy and root-like in the heart. Myrrhe Ardent is also a little different than the other Les Orientalistes. Somehow, it smells less personal, more like a "thing", which makes me a bit self-conscious when I'm wearing it in public.

I'm not really sure why it feels this way. After all, this is a much softer myrrh than the Mediterranean shrubbery of Diptyque L’Eau Trois, a scent I love and wear, and is the myrrhiest one I can think of. Myrrhe Ardent is sweet, resinous and has enough vanilla in the drydown to take the edge off the classic combination of myrrh and frankincense. It shouldn't remind anyone of religious rituals. Actually, It's so unique it doesn't remind me of anything in particular- I just enjoy the ride.

As others (like Kevin on Now Smell This) have observed, Myrrhe Ardente and the rest of the Les Orientalistes play well with each other and layer beautifully with other scents. I'll have to try his suggestion for layering it with Uncle Serge's Miel de Bois, and would also experiment with Un Bois Vanille (basically, almost anything layers well with UBV, and it wouldn't be the first Goutal do so- try it with Eau d'Hadrien). I like trying different ratios of Myrrhe Ardente and Ambre Fetiche. I tend to go overboard with the amber, but that's just how I roll. If you have more layering ideas, please share them.

Annick Goutal Encens Flamboyant (Les Orientalistes)

Annick Goutal's Les Orientalistes series is generally regarded as not very Goutal-like, which is mostly true, considering the house's dainty reputation (obviously, this is only true if one has never encountered Goutal's Eau du Fier). Out of the four Les Orientalistes scents, Encens Flamboyant seems the most surprising. It's a study of frankincense in three forms (sap, slightly processed resinoid and burnt incense), enriched with various spices- black and pink pepper, cardamom and nutmeg, and grounded with fir balsam. Nothing frilly here, for sure.

Incense scents tend to walk the line between cold and warm. From church walls and pine needles (CDG Avignon, Heeley Cardinal) to smoke and burnt embers (CDG Zagorsk, L'Artisan Passage d'Enfer). Of course, there's also the alien terrain of Andy Tauer's Incense Extreme, which can be both, depending on your mood, the weather and the magic of skin chemistry. Encense Flamboyant is definitely not the cold kind, despite the fir balsam which can sometimes give that dark pine forest feel. Here it is soft and almost comforting. It whispers more than cracks under your feet, if that makes any sense.

The first time I tried Encense Flamboyant I thought it would be more my husband's type of scent than mine (the bottle is still officially his, but you know how these things work). It took me a while to fully get this beauty. Beyond the spice, beyond the smoke- there's a wonderful softness to this scent. Incense perfumes are often regarded as meditative. This might be the first one I truly feel has that effect on my mind- it's very calming and centering. Compared to other incense fragrances I own, this might be the most tender, which is not what I expected after all the pepper and spice. It has an understated presence. Sometimes I forget I'm wearing it and then it catches me by surprise.

Encense Flamboyant layers beautifully with the other Les Orientalistes, and especially with Ambre Fetiche. Wearing them together can feel like a Middle Eastern party, complete with belly dancers. It's a lot of fun.

Photo: Incense, Buddhist temple by Per-Andre Hoffman

Annick Goutal Encens Flamboyant (Les Orientalistes)

Annick Goutal's Les Orientalistes series is generally regarded as not very Goutal-like, which is mostly true, considering the house's dainty reputation (obviously, this is only true if one has never encountered Goutal's Eau du Fier). Out of the four Les Orientalistes scents, Encens Flamboyant seems the most surprising. It's a study of frankincense in three forms (sap, slightly processed resinoid and burnt incense), enriched with various spices- black and pink pepper, cardamom and nutmeg, and grounded with fir balsam. Nothing frilly here, for sure.

Incense scents tend to walk the line between cold and warm. From church walls and pine needles (CDG Avignon, Heeley Cardinal) to smoke and burnt embers (CDG Zagorsk, L'Artisan Passage d'Enfer). Of course, there's also the alien terrain of Andy Tauer's Incense Extreme, which can be both, depending on your mood, the weather and the magic of skin chemistry. Encense Flamboyant is definitely not the cold kind, despite the fir balsam which can sometimes give that dark pine forest feel. Here it is soft and almost comforting. It whispers more than cracks under your feet, if that makes any sense.

The first time I tried Encense Flamboyant I thought it would be more my husband's type of scent than mine (the bottle is still officially his, but you know how these things work). It took me a while to fully get this beauty. Beyond the spice, beyond the smoke- there's a wonderful softness to this scent. Incense perfumes are often regarded as meditative. This might be the first one I truly feel has that effect on my mind- it's very calming and centering. Compared to other incense fragrances I own, this might be the most tender, which is not what I expected after all the pepper and spice. It has an understated presence. Sometimes I forget I'm wearing it and then it catches me by surprise.

Encense Flamboyant layers beautifully with the other Les Orientalistes, and especially with Ambre Fetiche. Wearing them together can feel like a Middle Eastern party, complete with belly dancers. It's a lot of fun.

Photo: Incense, Buddhist temple by Per-Andre Hoffman

Annick Goutal Encens Flamboyant (Les Orientalistes)

Annick Goutal's Les Orientalistes series is generally regarded as not very Goutal-like, which is mostly true, considering the house's dainty reputation (obviously, this is only true if one has never encountered Goutal's Eau du Fier). Out of the four Les Orientalistes scents, Encens Flamboyant seems the most surprising. It's a study of frankincense in three forms (sap, slightly processed resinoid and burnt incense), enriched with various spices- black and pink pepper, cardamom and nutmeg, and grounded with fir balsam. Nothing frilly here, for sure.

Incense scents tend to walk the line between cold and warm. From church walls and pine needles (CDG Avignon, Heeley Cardinal) to smoke and burnt embers (CDG Zagorsk, L'Artisan Passage d'Enfer). Of course, there's also the alien terrain of Andy Tauer's Incense Extreme, which can be both, depending on your mood, the weather and the magic of skin chemistry. Encense Flamboyant is definitely not the cold kind, despite the fir balsam which can sometimes give that dark pine forest feel. Here it is soft and almost comforting. It whispers more than cracks under your feet, if that makes any sense.

The first time I tried Encense Flamboyant I thought it would be more my husband's type of scent than mine (the bottle is still officially his, but you know how these things work). It took me a while to fully get this beauty. Beyond the spice, beyond the smoke- there's a wonderful softness to this scent. Incense perfumes are often regarded as meditative. This might be the first one I truly feel has that effect on my mind- it's very calming and centering. Compared to other incense fragrances I own, this might be the most tender, which is not what I expected after all the pepper and spice. It has an understated presence. Sometimes I forget I'm wearing it and then it catches me by surprise.

Encense Flamboyant layers beautifully with the other Les Orientalistes, and especially with Ambre Fetiche. Wearing them together can feel like a Middle Eastern party, complete with belly dancers. It's a lot of fun.

Photo: Incense, Buddhist temple by Per-Andre Hoffman

Annick Goutal Les Orientalistes- Ambre Fetiche

Perfume lovers who own a substantial number of bottles tend to reach a point in their collecting habit where considering a purchase becomes about deciding if this new (or old) perfume is worth the shelf space and its place in their rotation, since acquiring and wearing a new scent means less skin time for the other loves. In other words, we become so particular that a perfume needs to wow us if it is to join the other treasures in our cabinets. Ambre Fetiche from Annick Goutal didn't require any inner debate. It was a case of Sniff. Love. Need. Get.

For once, the list of notes (amber, frankincense, labdanum, stirax, benzoin, iris absolute, vanilla and Russian leather) actually tells the full story of the fragrance. It's a very dark amber-incense, where the expected sweetness is wonderfully balanced by a tarry, dirty black leather. Yes, it's an oriental, therefore forever doomed to be compared to various Guerlain perfumes, from the classic Shalimar to the modern Cuir Beluga and Oriental Brulant. But while I doubt someone who hates the Guerlains would find Ambre Fetiche wearable, it's different enough thanks to the impressive amounts of smoky incense and stands out among the above and other famous big ambers (Serge Lutens and Tom Ford's, for example).


Ambre Fetiche is not for the demure. Anyone expecting the typical floral Goutal would be surprised and not necessarily in a good way. It's strong and thick, uncompromising in its sexuality and would make one think of ancient perfumery traditions from the days it was all about frankincense, myrrh and lebonah than anything dainty and/or French. It easily stays on for 24 hours or more (after only two sprays) and you'll catch a whiff of yourself at every turn. In the late drydown, when most of what's left is a smoky vanilla, you might feel the urge to try licking yourself. Try to resist.

The four Les Orientalistes perfumes (Ambre Fetiche, Encens Flamboyant,Myrrhe Ardente and Musc Nomade) are available in 50 ml, 100 ml and also in the rectangular masculine bottles at the usual department stores, from Bloomingdale's and up, but also for a considerably better price from several online retailers. I'm starting to realize that Ambre Fetiche is one of those very rare perfumes I actually should have bought in the bigger bottle.

The bottle in the Goutal ad at the top is the limited edition butterfly bottle.

Photo: Black Corset by Horst P. Horst, 1948

Annick Goutal Les Orientalistes- Ambre Fetiche

Perfume lovers who own a substantial number of bottles tend to reach a point in their collecting habit where considering a purchase becomes about deciding if this new (or old) perfume is worth the shelf space and its place in their rotation, since acquiring and wearing a new scent means less skin time for the other loves. In other words, we become so particular that a perfume needs to wow us if it is to join the other treasures in our cabinets. Ambre Fetiche from Annick Goutal didn't require any inner debate. It was a case of Sniff. Love. Need. Get.

For once, the list of notes (amber, frankincense, labdanum, stirax, benzoin, iris absolute, vanilla and Russian leather) actually tells the full story of the fragrance. It's a very dark amber-incense, where the expected sweetness is wonderfully balanced by a tarry, dirty black leather. Yes, it's an oriental, therefore forever doomed to be compared to various Guerlain perfumes, from the classic Shalimar to the modern Cuir Beluga and Oriental Brulant. But while I doubt someone who hates the Guerlains would find Ambre Fetiche wearable, it's different enough thanks to the impressive amounts of smoky incense and stands out among the above and other famous big ambers (Serge Lutens and Tom Ford's, for example).


Ambre Fetiche is not for the demure. Anyone expecting the typical floral Goutal would be surprised and not necessarily in a good way. It's strong and thick, uncompromising in its sexuality and would make one think of ancient perfumery traditions from the days it was all about frankincense, myrrh and lebonah than anything dainty and/or French. It easily stays on for 24 hours or more (after only two sprays) and you'll catch a whiff of yourself at every turn. In the late drydown, when most of what's left is a smoky vanilla, you might feel the urge to try licking yourself. Try to resist.

The four Les Orientalistes perfumes (Ambre Fetiche, Encens Flamboyant,Myrrhe Ardente and Musc Nomade) are available in 50 ml, 100 ml and also in the rectangular masculine bottles at the usual department stores, from Bloomingdale's and up, but also for a considerably better price from several online retailers. I'm starting to realize that Ambre Fetiche is one of those very rare perfumes I actually should have bought in the bigger bottle.

The bottle in the Goutal ad at the top is the limited edition butterfly bottle.

Photo: Black Corset by Horst P. Horst, 1948

Annick Goutal Les Orientalistes- Ambre Fetiche

Perfume lovers who own a substantial number of bottles tend to reach a point in their collecting habit where considering a purchase becomes about deciding if this new (or old) perfume is worth the shelf space and its place in their rotation, since acquiring and wearing a new scent means less skin time for the other loves. In other words, we become so particular that a perfume needs to wow us if it is to join the other treasures in our cabinets. Ambre Fetiche from Annick Goutal didn't require any inner debate. It was a case of Sniff. Love. Need. Get.

For once, the list of notes (amber, frankincense, labdanum, stirax, benzoin, iris absolute, vanilla and Russian leather) actually tells the full story of the fragrance. It's a very dark amber-incense, where the expected sweetness is wonderfully balanced by a tarry, dirty black leather. Yes, it's an oriental, therefore forever doomed to be compared to various Guerlain perfumes, from the classic Shalimar to the modern Cuir Beluga and Oriental Brulant. But while I doubt someone who hates the Guerlains would find Ambre Fetiche wearable, it's different enough thanks to the impressive amounts of smoky incense and stands out among the above and other famous big ambers (Serge Lutens and Tom Ford's, for example).


Ambre Fetiche is not for the demure. Anyone expecting the typical floral Goutal would be surprised and not necessarily in a good way. It's strong and thick, uncompromising in its sexuality and would make one think of ancient perfumery traditions from the days it was all about frankincense, myrrh and lebonah than anything dainty and/or French. It easily stays on for 24 hours or more (after only two sprays) and you'll catch a whiff of yourself at every turn. In the late drydown, when most of what's left is a smoky vanilla, you might feel the urge to try licking yourself. Try to resist.

The four Les Orientalistes perfumes (Ambre Fetiche, Encens Flamboyant,Myrrhe Ardente and Musc Nomade) are available in 50 ml, 100 ml and also in the rectangular masculine bottles at the usual department stores, from Bloomingdale's and up, but also for a considerably better price from several online retailers. I'm starting to realize that Ambre Fetiche is one of those very rare perfumes I actually should have bought in the bigger bottle.

The bottle in the Goutal ad at the top is the limited edition butterfly bottle.

Photo: Black Corset by Horst P. Horst, 1948

Top Ten Summer Perfumes

Can there be a list of summer perfume recommendation without boring myself silly and/or mentioning Eau d'Hadrien? I'm going to try. Some of these are new(ish), others are perennial favorites. In no particular order:

1. Reverie au Jardin- Tauer
Midsummer afternoon dream. Will transport you to a magical alpine garden.

2. Amethyst- Olivier Durbano
Slightly sweetened pencil shavings, clean incense and a touch of vanilla. Surprisingly refreshing in the heat.

3. Un Matin d'Orage- Annick Goutal
Green gardenias drenched in rain without an ounce of sweetness until the musky drydown.

4. Monyette Paris *
The other side of gardenia. Tropical, sweet with a touch of nag champa incense. Put a flower in your hair and go dancing on the beach.
*I think it's the first fragrance review I've written here. It's magnificently bad, but kind of nostalgic in a campy way.

5. Nuit de Cellophane- Serge Lutens
Osmanthus flowers with a hint of apricot. Like drinking iced peach tea on a beautiful Cape May porch.

6. Italian Cypress- Tom Ford
Is it an homage to Eau d'Hadrien (so I lied. It had to be mentioned)? Maybe. But the cypress is a darker green and the feeling is more pulled together.

7. Encre Noire- Lalique
Or any other vetiver, really. I've chosen this one because it's a bit softer while still dry and grassy.

8. (Vintage) Vivara-Pucci
I'm talking about the original 60s formula. A salty chypre that belongs with the jet set in San Tropez. White pants, a Pucci scarf and oversized sunglasses are essential.

9. Bois Blond- Parfumerie Generale
A roll in dry hay on a lazy Sunday afternoon. You can smell the earth and trees baking in the sun.

10. Figuier- Heeley
Like lying in the shade of a huge, old fig tree next to a running stream.

What are your summer favorites this year?

art: Embarkation by Dan Dahlke

Top Ten Summer Perfumes

Can there be a list of summer perfume recommendation without boring myself silly and/or mentioning Eau d'Hadrien? I'm going to try. Some of these are new(ish), others are perennial favorites. In no particular order:

1. Reverie au Jardin- Tauer
Midsummer afternoon dream. Will transport you to a magical alpine garden.

2. Amethyst- Olivier Durbano
Slightly sweetened pencil shavings, clean incense and a touch of vanilla. Surprisingly refreshing in the heat.

3. Un Matin d'Orage- Annick Goutal
Green gardenias drenched in rain without an ounce of sweetness until the musky drydown.

4. Monyette Paris *
The other side of gardenia. Tropical, sweet with a touch of nag champa incense. Put a flower in your hair and go dancing on the beach.
*I think it's the first fragrance review I've written here. It's magnificently bad, but kind of nostalgic in a campy way.

5. Nuit de Cellophane- Serge Lutens
Osmanthus flowers with a hint of apricot. Like drinking iced peach tea on a beautiful Cape May porch.

6. Italian Cypress- Tom Ford
Is it an homage to Eau d'Hadrien (so I lied. It had to be mentioned)? Maybe. But the cypress is a darker green and the feeling is more pulled together.

7. Encre Noire- Lalique
Or any other vetiver, really. I've chosen this one because it's a bit softer while still dry and grassy.

8. (Vintage) Vivara-Pucci
I'm talking about the original 60s formula. A salty chypre that belongs with the jet set in San Tropez. White pants, a Pucci scarf and oversized sunglasses are essential.

9. Bois Blond- Parfumerie Generale
A roll in dry hay on a lazy Sunday afternoon. You can smell the earth and trees baking in the sun.

10. Figuier- Heeley
Like lying in the shade of a huge, old fig tree next to a running stream.

What are your summer favorites this year?

art: Embarkation by Dan Dahlke