Spending Valentine's Day 2017 with a new love... Le Beau Parfum Maison Francis Kurkdjian

Desirability: Full bottle

Source: Fragrantica.com

Valentine's Day 2017, which lucky scent is sharing today with you? I recently caved in and ordered Baccarat Rouge 540 off the Francis Kurkdjian website, together with a bottle of Lumiere Noire Pour Femme body lotion as a gift to myself. I received as samples, the new Aqua Celestia in a travel size (which I haven't tried yet), Le Beau Parfum and Lumiere Noire Pour Homme (tinkling with the idea of gifting this in the future).

Back to Le Beau Parfum. Must, MUST love big fat white florals to enjoy this. It's not a diva like Fracas but it's definitely not a shrinking violet (although I love my violets and I don't think it's quite fair to the flower, but origins of the quote here). As Savage Garden cheesily crooned " I knew I loved you before I met you", I guessed correctly that I would love Le Beau Parfum once I read the notes and I mean it is a Kurkdjian creation...digressing a little here but there is a fellow perfumehead who wrote in a forum that she wants to have his babies...I totally understand that sentiment. 

With tuberose, orange blossom, ylang ylang and jasmine arranged according to the intensity that I perceive of each note, Le Beau Parfum is a classy floral that is seamless and uncomplicated. Candid as well as rather candied (not toothachingly sweet but it is sweet), it stays constant from start to finish, starting strong and remaining clearly noticeable even after the end of a work day and a vigorous gym session on top of that. Terms that come to mind when describing Le Beau Parfum would include: decidedly feminine, elegant, sweetly innocent, lush, exotic...oh just think Audrey Hepburn in Roman Holiday and you'll get my drift! 

Le Beau Parfum is the answer to my recent craving for new undiscovered white florals. I tried Creed's Love In White which is a lovely mix of zesty and creamy, less sweet than Le Beau Parfum but similarly innocent and unaffected. I also tried Les Exclusifs de Chanel Beige...I had hoped to enjoy this but it's so....prosaic? Like a person whom one can have neither good nor bad things to describe. Kudos to those who love Beige and can relate to its beauty but it's just not for me. Taste and colours as they say...Anyway I know exactly what I'm ordering next from the MFK website. What about you? What lovely florals have you been craving recently?

Happy Valentine's Day to one and all! I leave you with a perennial favourite poem...

I do not love you as if you were salt-rose, or topaz,

or the arrow of carnations the fire shoots off.

I love you as certain dark things are to be loved,

in secret, between the shadow and the soul.

I love you as the plant that never blooms

but carries in itself the light of hidden flowers;

thanks to your love a certain solid fragrance,

risen from the earth, lives darkly in my body.

I love you without knowing how, or when, or from where.

I love you straightforwardly, without complexities or pride;

so I love you because I know no other way

than this: where I does not exist, nor you,

so close that your hand on my chest is my hand,

so close that your eyes close as I fall asleep. 

Pablo Neruda

Tango Masque

Desirability: Decant

Source: luckyscent

Phwoar...talk about heady and intoxicating, Tango just blazed its way onto my want list and I want this in a seriously bad way. Fragrantica lists this as an oriental floral but it wears like a spicy oriental on me, where have all the flowers gone? 

Cumin. Cumin. Cumin. Cloves. Cinnamon. Cardamom. Cumin. CUMIN. Cumin in all its wanton sweaty glory, attractive or repulsive depending on whether you like it. Boozy, bold, exotic and rich, Tango has me in a cinch, make that a steaming hot passionate cinch. It continues to smoulder all the way to its drydown, a warm, dense and sweet amber base with resins and dry wood heaped on the molten fire. Monstrous projection and longevity. Sexy beast. 

Ambre Sultan, Serge Lutens

Feeling nostalgic tonight and decided to hang out with the one that started it all. Or the last few millilitres of my first bottle of niche perfume, my first Serge Lutens, my first Amber. Quite a few firsts. 

Up till now, Ambre Sultan is still the watermark when it comes to amber scents. It's like Goldilocks would say, it's just right. Some ambers tend to turn powdery like Calypso's Ambre, although that is a very good amber patchouli for its inexpensive price-tag. Some are too sweet and sedate for my taste like L'Artisan's Ambre Extreme which is anything but extreme, it's soft, polite and a tad boring. 

Ambre Sultan smells like ages past in a land that no longer exists or all that remains is a decrepit pile of rubble of past grandeur and a civilised life...its dryness makes me think of hostile, arid deserts that stretch as far as the eye can see, its spices transport me to multiple places at once, following my mother when I was about the height of her knees, to the market and watching the seller selecting various spices of burnished ambers, a myriad of reds and mounds of yellows, pouring the eye-watering blend into a cone fashioned out of old newspaper.

Or travelling in the Middle East and North Africa, experiencing multitudes of foreign smells and flavours that I never came across before and falling in love with newfound exoticism. The balmy coziness of Ambre Sultan that calms and reassures...it takes me back to around the time we first met, using the scent on rare, precious free evenings spent with friends or just chilling alone by a water's edge, watching the sun in it's last dazzling performance before it goes to say hello to another part of the world. 

This is the potent power that Lutens' have on me, that trigger a slew of memories and create dreams where I surf the olfactory waves to different lands. There's something pleasurable yet poignant about each Lutens' scent that I meet and Ambre Sultan is no different. Yes it is a French interpretation of the Orient but by someone who is not just familiar with it but understands it as well. 

“Some of my old memories feel trapped in amber in my brain, lucid and burning, while others are like the wing beat of a hummingbird, an intangible, ephemeral blur.” 

― Mira Bartok