Histoires de Parfums 1969 and 1740

I've had samples of the Histoires de Parfums line for years now. Since my acquisition, a number of newer perfumes have been released, but every now and then I revisit my samples and today I wore 1969 and 1740. 

The strange thing is, to my mind, the associations with these two are slightly wrong. 1969 is meant to evoke the spirit of the end of the sixties, free love, and all that. Now, clearly I wasn't there (who was?), but based purely on my own associations of what I would have thought of the summer of love (albeit that was 1967 no?), I would have thought 1969 would be laden with patchouli, sandalwood perhaps, smokiness, a bit of unwashed skank and perhaps a hint of herby ganja. In fact, 1969 smells quite spicy, but mostly of cardamom and nutmeg, a whiff of citrus and some light woods. It is totally the opposite to what I would have expected (or liked).

1740 is inspired by the Maquis de Sade, and in a sense, this perfume does indeed have elements of what one might think of when conjuring up sadism, kinky sex, bondage, etc. It is laden with patchouli, and certainly has a heavy immortelle note too, to my nose. There is a hint of leather, but again, images of whips and sex paraphernalia might have inspired more of a raunchy leather note. To be honest, if my sample of 1740 had been mis-labelled 1969, I would have immediately thought that this was inspired by the free love of the sixties.

Ultimately, both fragrances are decent, but 1740 definitely appeals to me more.

Perfume for a long day and journey?

Today is a very early start as I am up at 5am to drive to Bournemouth for work. For those of you who aren't familiar with the UK, Bournemouth is a large university and resort town on England's south coast, in Dorset, situated to the west of Southampton.

It takes about 2.5-3 hours to drive to Bournemouth from Tunbridge Wells, depending on traffic and my colleague and I are going only for the day. This means leaving at 6am and getting back at 9pm, with a day's work sandwiched in between. I feel tired already!

So I was wondering what to wear for the journey and for some reason I am in the mood for patchouli. I'm not sure why - perhaps I feel the need for inward contemplation and patchouli sometimes assists me in that respect.

So I'm wearing Noir Patchouli by Histoires de Parfums on one arm and Intrigant Patchouli by Parfumerie Generale on the other.

What perfume do you like to wear on a long (ish) journey? Would travelling by aeroplane change your mind?

Histoires de Parfums - Patchouli Noir

Ah, Patchouli. Divider of opinion. You tend either to love it, or hate it, depending usually on your associations with the leaf and whether you lived through the hippie era. But that's a bit cliched. In any event, I wasn't truly a child of the seventies and didn't know any hippies. Nor did I visit any headshops I was aware of. So while I recognise how patchouli can smell a bit of the unwashed and of other more illicit herbs, I actually like the smell. Having said that, I can't wear a patchouli fragrance every day. It's a very strong and distinctive smell that I like only in moderation. Although patchouli is used in many perfumes (more than you would realise, probably), there aren't that many perfumes, certainly in mainstream, that focus more or less exclusively on the note. These days, patchouli tends to have been 'cleansed' of any odd whiffs or hint of body, fur, mothballs, you name it, to the extent that smelling a true patchouli fragrance can initially be a bit of a shock if you aren't that familiar with the note.

I've written about a few patchouli perfumes before, including three of my favourites, Mazzolari Lui, Serge Lutens Borneo 1834 and Chanel's Coromandel. Lui is a beast of a patchouli fragrance, bearing its fangs right from the start, in a sort of blood, fur and beastly breath fashion, before settling down into a very rich and strong patchouli accord that lasts for hours. If you don't like patchouli, then watch out if you try Lui. Borneo 1834 focuses initially on the mothball-like facets of the leaf, then moves into a rich, oriental take on patchouli with cocoa. It's a beautiful perfume. To my nose, Coromandel bears more of a resemblance to Borneo 1834 in that it also marries a slight chocolate note to a smooth and honeyed patchouli, but is much more reserved.

I recently sampled Patchouli Noir again, by Histoires de Parfums. I've had this one for ages and recall first wearing it last summer. I liked it, but wasn't blown away. This time round was a totally different story. To my mind, Patchouli Noir is unique and smells like no other patchouli fragrance I've encountered. I would describe it as a patchouli chypre. The opening is quite aldehydic, with some citrus notes, which fade very quickly to reveal a spicy pepperiness that immediately reminds me of Noir Epicee by Frederic Malle. The patchouli on this occasion is not evident on my skin at first, but after a few minutes I can sense it lurking beneath the pepper. It's an interesting take on patchouli, with the mossy and pepper notes quite strong, complementing the patchouli. Patchouli can dominate a perfume, but in this case it rounds out the 'harsher' pepper, creating a lovely dry accord that in feel is a bit like the sort of chypre style embodied by Mitsouko for example, although it is nowhere near it in actual smell. I don't generally like pepper in a perfume, but here it creates more of an incense feel than out-and-out pepper-grinder territory. As I said earlier, the first few times I wore Patchouli Noir the patchouli was far more evident and forceful, but in cooler weather it sits back a bit and allows the other ingredients to have a say. It smells wonderfully sophisticated and is entirely unisex in my opinion.

I can easily recommend Patchouli Noir for anyone who wants to try a different angle on the patchouli note or perhaps is not a fan of out-and-out patchouli.

Image credit - http://www.ausliebezumduft.de

Histoires de Parfums - 1828 (Jules Verne) and 1725 (Casanova)

I obtained the full sample set of Histoires de Parfumes perfumes about eighteen months ago. This was before the more recent Tuberose additions to their line. The samples are beautifully packaged and labelled and come with a lovely pamphlet explaining all the perfumes, with full lists of the notes. However, for some reason this line has never fully grabbed my attention. For the most part it languishes in the back of my sample drawer. And I don't quite know why, because in truth the line is varied, interesting and different. I think some of it may be my confusion with all the named years and trying to associate them with the famous people, like Jules Verne, Marquis de Sade, Casanova, etc. Two in the line are stunning - Patchouli Noir and Ambre 114. I don't think it is just me though; I seldom come across a review of this overlooked perfume house.

Anyway, I thought I would right matters by reviewing 1828 (Jules Verne) and 1725 (Casanova), two of the masculines in the line.

1828 contains notes of grapefruit, madarin, citrus, eucalyptus, nutmeg, pepper, cedar, vetiver, incense and pine. I must admit that the opening is quite shrill and piercing, but isn't as citrusy as I would have thought. If anything it is the ecualyptus note that dominates, with its slightly campherous and piney note. The top fades quite quickly to be joined by warm and sweet spices. The pepper is mellow, but the nutmeg is very distinctive. I woudl wager a bet that there is a hefty dose of cardamom in here too. There's something about this phase that reminds me very much of Caravelle Epicee by Frapin. It's got that same lovely spicy warmth, almost boozy in a way, that is delicious and compelling. Just cutting this melange of spice is a cedar note and an almost refreshing zing, which I take is the combination of vetiver, pine and incense. The base smells like walking through a cool forest close to the ocean, the canopy heated from above by a seering mediterranean sun. At least, that's how it feels to me! 

1725 is "named after the man whose name would symbolise seduction" and contains bergamot, grapefruit, licorice, lavender, star anise, vanilla, almond, sandalwood, cedar and amber. Right from the outset it is a sweeter, less spicy affair than 1828, but is by no means cloying. The licorice and star anise are clever connected accords through the top and heart, but again, are not cloying, as some people might fear they could be. The lavender is a nice addition here, and is the sort that to my nose highlights its more aromatic and smoky facets, rather than granny's underwear drawer, thankfully. It cuts through the vanilla and almond notes, which I feared would be yuck, quite frankly. However, again they do not overpower or become cloying, and are instead, balanced by the earthier base notes of cedar, amber and sandalwood. The amber and sandalwood are of the drier variety, which work very well with the sweeter gourmand notes of vanilla and almond, meaning that the fragrance never veers into pastry territory. Like 1828, the longer the fragrance wears, the drier it becomes and for some reason smells 'of the earth' to me, very much like nature.

What I really like about Histoires de Parfums is that they cleverly balance opposite notes, a bit like Serge Lutens does in my opinion. I'm not saying their styles are the same; far from it in fact, but they both take quite sweet or strong notes and balance them with herbs or resins.

I must say that I rather like 1828 and 1725. I frankly don't get the whole association with Jules Verne or Casanova, but then, I'm not particularly clever that way and don't care much for all that malarkey in perfume. Although I wouldn't necessarily say either of these is groundbreaking, they are both interesting, very well made perfumes with quality ingredients. Although I'm sure there are plenty of synthetics in here, the accords all smell realistic and organic in a way, which is how I like my perfumes. I don't expect them to be certifiably organic and all natural, blah blah blah, but I like them to smell like they came from nature to an extent, and these very definitely do. Although slightly over the unisex line into masculine, I still highly recommend anyone giving both of these, and indeed the entire line, a try.

Image credit: stylelist.com

Let's try some Histoires de Parfums - Ambre 114 and 1740 Marquis de Sade

I've had a little box of samples from Histoires de Parfums for over a year now. This is a funny line - they all sound really great on paper, yet when I tested them, most didn't translate onto skin. This line flies a little beneath the radar I think. I know they've recently released their tuberose trilogy, and Marquis de Sade seems to garner some praise, but overall they seem to languish a bit in the perfume twilight zone, no?

Ambre 114 has the following notes (spelling from package insert): Thym, Noix de Muscale, Rose, Geranium, Patchouli, Santal, Cedre, Vetiver, Ambre, Vanille, Feves Tonka, Benzoin, Musc. Wow, that took me about two minutes just to type out. Must be a scent bomb. If you're wondering (or your French is crap like mine is), Noix de Muscale is nutmeg. This fragrance opens spicy and slightly herbal. Thyme and nutmeg seem like a slightly unusual pairing for top notes to me. The opening reminds me a little of Serge Luten's Ambre Sultan, which I think contains quite a lot of thyme too, but Ambre 114 is not quite as powerfully intense and herby. The rose and geranium temper the spices and I can detect quite early the patchouli and sandalwood, which add a slightly creamy accord. Amber comes to the fore quite quickly, but it is not a sickly sweet amber; rather it is quite dry and mild. I can pick out a bit of vetiver that grounds the fragrance. Ambre 114 softens considerably thereafter. The amber is definitely the focus, sweetened a little by the sandalwood and vanilla. I like this fragrance, I really do, but I can't help feeling slightly underwhelmed, especially after reading this list of notes longer than my arm; I thought it would translate into something a bit more complex and with oomph. I think it's worth sampling, but hey, I'll stick to my gold standard of ambers thank you very much, so its still Ambre Sultan all the way for me.

So on to probably the most talked-about fragrance in the line, 1740 Marquis de Sade. Notes are: Bergamot, Davan Sensualis, Patchouli, Coriander, Cardamom, Cedre, Cistus, Bouleau, Cuir, Vanilla, Immortelle. Oh heck, I've just read immortelle; we don't get along very well. This opens with a brief bergamot blast and then turns spicy and thick. I don't know exactly what Davana smells like, but I can detect a spicy piquancy which I think is the coriander and cardamom and the patchouli is very much there, but luckily not too overpowering. There's something about this at this point that reminds me a little of Arabie by Serge Lutens, but sans the stewed fruit accord. I can already detect the dreaded immortelle. This scent never develops into a full-on leather fragrance to me. I find that it is increasingly all about immortelle, sadly. I do get a bit of vanilla and cistus in the mix and what smells like birch tar, which may be the cuir, but this is all drowned out by immortelle. Have I mentioned that word yet? Ok, this isn't Sables, in case you're wondering, but I do find this note quite heavy here. I do sort of like it, but I wish they had amped up the leather and spices and chucked the immortelle. In case you're wondering, I don't really find this a leathery, kinky or outrageous scent, as might befit some nut-job like the Marquis, so I wonder just how much of a marketing ploy this was. Then again, this house flies under the radar, so I am not sure how much of a role marketing plays.

In summary, neither of these is a poor fragrance, and like I often say, try them yourself; they're at least worth sampling. Incidentally, (or at least this time last year, when I made a purchase) this sample set is very reasonably priced and they all come in a nice plastic case with a leaflet that lists all the notes. 

Image from mitoloji.info: Juliette by the Marquis de Sade