Lionel Paillès on the air: cult fragrances

The pitch sounds like an impressionist painting by Gustave Courbet: "the scent of a green garden by the water". The first impression is very green (tomato leaves, blackcurrant buds, galbanum - a herb from Iran). It heralds the arrival of a fresh, petal-like rose, growing on a woody-chypre background that is reminiscent of the smell of undergrowth in the summer sun. There is no melancholy in this harmonious composition bathed in a halo of gaiety and joie de vivre. At a time when we only talk about naturalness without really knowing what it means, here is a concentrate of naturalness and vegetal humidity that gives the impression of opening the windows wide. This great classic from Diptyque is a snapshot of "real" nature to be worn on the skin to feel even more alive.

Austere as a beautiful, classic Cologne (Sir Winston Churchill adopted it and kept it until the end of his life), this century-old fragrance opens with an exhilarating, uplifting whiff of citrus (bergamot, lemon, bitter orange) immediately tenderised by a beautiful orange blossom. Then comes what finally makes its mark: the camphorated and resinous notes of pine married to cedar, thyme and vetiver. This purely addictive combination is fresh, warm and persistent, halfway between the worlds of perfumery and aromatherapy. This discreet luxury fragrance, without extravagance, with that little touch of tempered arrogance, is the signature of an English perfumery that has unfortunately lost its codes in globalisation.

Green in every way, that's the seductive and cheeky promise of this very first perfume imagined by Belgium's most mysterious designer with the help of "nose" Daniela Andrier. If there is a little 70's revival (resurrecting forgotten green notes is always at least as retro as it is adventurous), in this successful union of fashion and scent, this galbanum is surprisingly enveloped in resinous, warm, balsam notes, which bring a lot of comfort on the skin. This green-smoky accord (the little grilled note upsets the "clean" effect) with a crazy allure renews the genre of the exactly seductive perfume that doesn't necessarily need to make a big deal of it. Untitled also shows that you can wear green...even in winter.

Some perfumes push the envelope so much that they seem hard to take on, intimidating as they are, "too much" something. This hypnotic creation by Dominique Ropion, overflowing with assumed femininity, is one of those. Everything is opulent, excessive, plethoric, starting with the enormous quantity of Turkish rose oil (2% in the formula). Whether one qualifies it as a modern oriental or a "French oriental" is of little importance, as this perfume knows how to go beyond these olfactory codes. What counts, what remains is the radical force of the major accord marrying for the best damascena rose and patchouli "heart" big, large, generous cleaned of its most unpleasant facets. The trail is irresistible and one of the most memorable on the market. This monument is one of those brazenly feminine fragrances that men wear beautifully.

Dissonant is the word that spontaneously comes to mind when you first try this fragrance, which is not quite a fragrance. When icy metallic notes (aldehydes) and burning spices (cumin, saffron, nutmeg) collide, the effect on the skin is intriguing, and let's face it, quite indescribable. It's as if perfumer Mark Buxton's ambition was to compose an atmosphere, a physical experience, rather than a skin scent in the classical sense. Recognisable scents include plastic, old leather, wood fire, tar and icy metal. It's sexy. It's weird. It's intriguing. It's abstract. It's no gender before its time. It's perfectly in the spirit of the avant-garde perfumery that Japanese Rei Kawakubo, founder of the Comme des Garçons label, has been promoting for 25 years.

Those who only know him by his reputation, readily believe that Jean-Claude Ellena (ex-perfumer of Hermès) composes "minimalist and evanescent" perfumes. The man from Grasse, apostle of olfactory illusion, demonstrates the opposite with this creation which is, in the end, anything but a solinote (Bergamote, the pretty name, also minimalist, is one of those false leads he likes). From a raw material that belongs to the mythology of eau de Cologne, the perfumer has succeeded in creating a trail of luminous warmth structured around orange blossom and rhubarb, chaperoned by a generous dose of cottony musk. On the skin, Bergamot reveals itself to be a "winter water" radiating warmth and sensuality, the memory of which lasts long enough on the skin. Everything we didn't expect in the end.

This composition is preceded by its sulphurous reputation. Marijuana extract is said to be hidden somewhere in the formula. This is obviously not true! Not for reasons of propriety or morality (the olfactory police, thank God, do not exist). The truth is that such an extraction simply does not exist. What creates the illusion of these interloped places where one loses oneself in clandestine vapours are all these balsamic notes associated with tobacco and herbaceous effluvia. If it is not a forbidden perfume that falls under the law, Black Afgano reveals itself to be a beautiful "matièré" oriental that exhales more of the incense burned by cannabis users to disguise the suspicious odour, a marvellous illustration of a return to the instinctive sources of perfumery.

The gentlemanly flask bottle suggests a perfumery that is well-scrubbed behind the ears and has only clean freshness as its horizon. But behind an easy going preface (pineapple-apple-bergamot), explosive woody-spicy notes and a suave base (ambergris, oakmoss and vanilla) of great refinement are gradually revealed. The man used to "daddy's" perfumes will find in Aventus a way to renew his olfactory wardrobe by breaking the codes without blowing up all the seams, the travel freak will smell the scents of eternal India and the lover of old Cognac will find some well-felt references to the old woods of the barrels.