What We Really Wore This Summer – 2014

I was rather surprised by the frequency with which I reached for Christopher Sheldrake‘s Laine De Verre (Serge Lutens). I say ‘surprised’, because the scent also featured on my Winter 2014 list and I wasn’t sure if its sci-fi crispness would translate well to higher temperatures. But the sun drew out the coolness of the incense, thereby softening the scent’s more garish angles and lending it an air of contemplative equilibrium. Madame Persolaise was particularly pleased to smell this one on me, repeatedly saying that she found it “comforting”. Unexpected softness aside, it’s still a commendably weird piece of work, which may explain why I found myself thinking about it whilst listening to We Were Evergreen’s equally kooky Towards album. Perhaps the band ought to scent their gigs with this stuff: both the perfume and their music possess a futuristic quirkiness which comes across as unmistakably ’21st century Gaul’.

Music came up again whilst I was spraying myself with Michel Roudnitska‘s Noir Epices (Frederic Malle), a bottle of which I picked up at the charming Mûre Favorite in Lyon. For this scent, the musical link I made was with Roberta Flack’s greatest hits: her seemingly effortless handling of smooth low notes was not unlike Roudnitska’s treatment of heavy spices and woods, especially in that gorgeous drydown, where the cinnamon and patchouli feel as though they’re thinner and lighter than a peacock feather.

Several days saw me indulging in liberal spritzes of Carlos Benaïm‘s Eau De Magnolia (Malle again). Inevitably, the intense heat had a detrimental effect on the juice’s longevity, but never mind. Whilst it lasted, the watery luminosity of the expertly-constructed magnolia was a joy.

As in previous years, I couldn’t leave home without Francis Kurkdjian‘s Oud, which never fails to impress me with its balance of a convincing agar wood note against tons of pepper and a large helping of modern musks.

Francois Demachy‘s Cuir Cannage (Christian Dior) turned out to be a winner too: its diffusive, retro leather – inflected with a pronounced ylang ylang note – conjured nostalgic visions of hat-wearing gents and parasol-carrying ladies strolling along a shaded promenade.

And then, of course, there was Monsieur Jean-Claude Ellena, whose work seems to breathe the very essence of the sun-caressed Provencal landscapes he inhabits. As ever, I packed my trusty bottle of his Un Jardin Sur Le Nil (Hermès), but this year, I also persuaded myself to make friends with Un Jardin En Méditerranée (Hermès) once again. Most of you will be aware that the scent revolves around fig trees, but in the same way that Nil‘s much-vaunted green mango facet is bolstered by an incense note, Méditerranée‘s star ingredient is made more striking with the inclusion of Ellena’s speciality: tea. Both were wonderful to wear. And I must also mention his Terre D’Hermès Eau Très Fraîche: its lip-smacking grapefruit + bitter orange opening was a delightful complement to the sight of sunshine reflected in pristine waters.

Madame Persolaise couldn’t allow many days to pass without reaching for her Portrait Of A Lady, but I suspect regular readers are well aware of her (entirely justified!) adoration of the scent, so I won’t bore you with repetition. Suffice it to say that her loyalty shows no sign of diminishing.

When she was feeling more adventurous – and I use the word loosely – she sought out two other roses: Jean-Paul Guerlain‘s Nahema extrait (whose opening is pretty much guaranteed to transport me into another dimension each time I smell it) and Francois Demachy’s new Rosa Nobile for Acqua Di Parma. The latter – a commendable soliflore with a prominent green facet – turned out to be far more likeable than I thought it would. And Madame P insisted that I let you all know how much she enjoyed its body cream version, the bottle of which seemed to be by her hands almost all the time.

My better half has long been a fan of Chanel‘s scented output (Coco is one of her all-time favourites) so it’s no surprise that two bottles bearing the double-C logo made it into her suitcase. The first was one which she’s been using fairly regularly since last winter: Jacques Polge and Christopher Sheldrake’s Coromandel. The summer heat seemed to strip the top notes off this stuff almost instantly, leaving a forceful, surprisingly physicalised patchouli: an earthy beast only just concealed beneath a veneer of elegance.

The other was 31 Rue Cambon (also by Polge and Sheldrake). I’m always surprised that Madame P doesn’t wear this one more often. For years, the original Femme was her signature, and she always enjoys smelling the likes of Mitsouko, so she’s certainly fond of classically-structured chypres. But somehow, this particular one has never managed to work its way into her soul. Then again, she did spray it quite a few times this summer – treating everyone around her to that stunning combo of only-just-overripe plums, velvety mosses and Nina-Simone-soulfulness – so maybe it’ll soon find a permanent spot on her dressing table. If it does, I’ll be very pleased indeed.

Over to you. Which scents did you reach for this summer? Which ones did you enjoy… and which ones turned out to be a disappointment?

Persolaise