SOTD: Balmain Vent Vert (Modern)

This time, I tried two sprays of Vent Vert. It started out a little too strong, and disappeared within an hour. I am befuddled.

Image: Wikimedia Commons.

SOTD: Several

Today started with modern Balmain Vent Vert. This is a scent that I tend to unfairly ignore, because it doesn't approach the glory of vintage Vent Vert. But it's lovely all the same, so why don't I wear it more?

Then I went to Alchemy Botanicals, again, to play with the Dawn Spencer Hurwitz perfumes, again. I re-sprayed Bancha, and while I still love the drydown, I found out that I'm not as big a fan of the first couple of hours. What to do? 

I re-sprayed Tubereuse, and it was, again, gorgeous. It starts out with a fog of tuberose candy mixed with gasoline, and, yes, that is a lovely thing, no matter how it might sound. The gasoline fades over time, leaving the tuberose candy, which is much nicer than other perfume candy.

I already have Parfumerie Generale Tubereuse Couture. I intend to buy Serge Lutens Tubereuse Criminelle. I think that there's at least one other tuberose perfume that I own or intended to own. Just how wrong would it be to buy this?

I also tried Prana. It's interesting. It's puzzling. I got a strongly animalic feel from it, even though it doesn't contain even one animalic note. I suspect that I'm smelling a combination of the cardamom and oud.  Sadly, over time the oud started to dominate, and I really don't like oud. But this perfume comes closer to making me like it than any so far, so I may give it another try.

So, Vent Vert sort of lost the spotlight today. Maybe I'll try it again Sunday.

Image: By Father.Jack. Wikimedia Commons.

SOTD: Balmain Vent Vert, or, Is it possible to have too many greens?

I was debating what to wear for my Scent Of The Day, when the doorbell rang and a package addressed to me landed on the porch.

That usually means perfume, and it did: Balmain Vent Vert. So that answered that question. After the Cellophane Opening Ceremony, I applied four spritzes which, judging from Himself's reaction, was about three too much. But I'm enjoying it. I'm finding that the drydown, which was nice enough with the sample, is much nicer when you're wearing plenty of the stuff.

But looking at The Collection, I became uneasy. Why did I buy Vent Vert? Well, it's the matriarch of classic green florals, as I discussed in a previous post. It's a galbanum perfume, and if you've been reading along you know that I'm a galbanum freak. And it was, frankly, cheap. And I can give away decants!

And I'm sounding like a hoarder. This isn't good.

Because there are reasons against it. This isn't the classic version of the classic - it's the second reformulation. There would be ample reason for buying the original, dark green, slightly ominous version of Vent Vert. Is there any reason besides history (sentiment - the hoarder's excuse) for buying this one?

Yes, it's a pretty green floral. And so is Chanel Cristalle, which is a better green. And Chanel No. 19, which is a much better green. And so are Issey Miyake A Scent and Estee Lauder Jasmine White Moss, both of which I, um, well, already own.

And so are Le Labo Jasmin 17 and Hermes Vetiver Tonka and Miller et Bertaux Green, Green, Green, and Green and Balmain Ivoire, all of which I want to own. (OK, those aren't all green florals, but they're all green.)

I'm sure that there's such a thing as too many greens. I'm just not sure if I'm approaching that line, or if I passed it long ago. It may be time to get a grip.

Photo: Michele Ahin at Wikimedia Commons. Click for details.

SOTD: Balmain Ivoire

Today's sample is Balmain Ivoire, another green, this one a descendent of yesterday's Vent Vert.

It's not at all as I remember it from my last sampling - then, I thought of it as a shy, ladylike, powdery little fragrance, careful to avoid offense. Frankly, I thought it was boring. I was wrong.

It starts with a fair blast of aldehydes. This is normally one of my least favorite notes, but here they're coupled with a flat-out claws-extended green, and the trumpets seem appropriate.

That all settles within minutes, perhaps even seconds, and then I smell a soft, creamy soap and gentler green - the vetiver has receded and the other greens are using company manners. And I think that I'm getting just a hint of the sandalwood. I don't like soapy scents any more than I like aldehydes but, again, I like the soap here. No doubt the green helps, and perhaps the appropriateness of sandalwood with soap is contributing.

As time goes on, the soap fades away. The scent is dominated at this stage by sweeter florals, bitter moss, and now-creamy sandalwood, with the green notes waxing and waning. I'm getting none of the clove scent of carnation, but I think that without making itself recognizable, it's contributing the sparkle that I detect in the sweet-and-bitter mixture.

So Ivoire is quiet and civilized after the initial triumphant entrance, but it's not sweet, simple, or shy, and it's emphatically not boring. The soap, the green chorus, the sandalwood, and the moss all show their bitter side, only lightly sweetened by the florals, and that works very well. It's an old-fashioned fragrance, but not in the "old lady" sense. Instead, it gives me a glimpse into a time when perfume wasn't all about sweet florals, or even all about undilutedly pleasing scents.

Review Roundup: Fragrance Bouquet and Basenotes and 1000 Fragrances and Yesterday's Perfume and ScentLessSensibilities.

Photo: Wikimedia Commons

SOTD: Balmain Vent Vert (Modern)

 

Today I dug into the Classics Ziploc and pulled out a sample of Balmain Vent Vert - the modern version.

Technically, I'm not sure if the modern Vent Vert qualifies as a classic. The fond descriptions are always about the vintage, which is one of the galbanum classics, and I am without a doubt a galbanum freak. But it's also a struggle to obtain, so I'm trying to evaluate the modern Vent Vert without reference to the old, to see if I like it as a separate perfume.

And I think I do, but perhaps not even enough to buy one of the heavily-discounted bottles widely available.

It starts out powdery, a girly-powdery, but that settles down to a reasonable level almost immediately. And there's galbanum, of course, severely tamed. It shows its bitterness and intense green for a few minutes, but then it's muffled with soft florals. And then I think it's done - a slightly powdery, not-too-sweet floral veiling a declawed galbanum. Compared to Issey Miyake's A Scent and Estee Lauder's Jasmine White Moss, it's less sweet and less cluttered. Compared to Cristalle, it's less sharp. Compared to Chanel No. 19, it's less wholeheartedly, aggressively, bitterly green.

The vintage Vent Vert is a critical ancestor of all of these green fragrances. Even the modern version seems somewhat true to this history, in that it makes galbanum the center and purpose of the composition - it may be afraid to let the green loose, but it also makes no attempt to pacify with other notes, disdains to offer sweet floral candy like the Miyake scent. (And, yes, I love the Miyake scent, but it is a scent that's eager to please, unlike many of the classic greens.)

But in the end, it fears its central player and works too hard to protect us from its sharp edges. It ends up just Nice, and a classic deserves better than that.

Review Roundup: Bois de Jasmin and Now Smell This and Basenotes (modern) and Basenotes (original) and Legerdenez and Yesterday's Perfume (original) and The Scentimentalist (original) and hortus conclusus and Perfume Posse.

(Edited to add to the Review Roundup.)


Photo:  Christian Staebler, Wikimedia Commons. Click for details