Maison Rebatchi, Celine and vintage Guerlain Habit Rouge – Skin Time March 2022

Celine

As I type this post, there’s a great deal of talk in the movie world about certain films suffering from an excess of hype. The Power Of The Dog (recent winner of the top BAFTA) is now reportedly seen as being too successful for its own good, which is why many seem to think that Coda will nab the Best Picture Oscar this weekend. All this speculation made me wonder if overhyping can be a problem in the perfume universe too. A few years ago, when the Hedi Slimane-directed scent range was launched at Celine, there was an almost orgiastic outpouring of enthusiasm. The best things we’ve had for years, people said. Right up there with the stuff Slimane managed to release under the Dior label years ago. Absolute must-trys, etc etc. Thanks mainly to Covid, it took a while for my nose to find them. But I confess that, when the encounter finally occurred, I wasn’t nearly as bowled over as everyone else seems to be.

Several people have asked me to share my views on them – more than on any other new-ish releases, I think – so I’m happy to offer a brief rundown here**. But please do note that many of these observations are based on initial sniffs. There are a few in the range to which I’d like to return. And when I do, I shall post some updated thoughts.

The one that appears to have elicited the most frenziedly excited response is Nightclubbing (2019), a musky iris-vanilla with, according to some, a touch of dance-induced sweatiness. I certainly found it pleasant – there’s an appealing powderiness running through the entire structure – but perhaps too quiet to be truly memorable. Surely, it should strive to remain in the mind like those rare nights you never want to forget, as opposed to the ones that blur into an indistinct haze.

Almost equally acclaimed is Black Tie (2019). Perhaps this isn’t surprising, given that its base is also heavily vanillic. But I detected something rather pseudy and unconvincing in the quality of the drydown: polyester trying to pass itself off as wool. The retro chic of La Peau Nue (2019; a silky iris, very much in the manner of Frederic Malle Iris Poudre) is well executed, as are the lipstick florals of Dans Paris (2019) and the freesia-lilac blossoms of Saint-Germain-Des-Pres (2019). All solid pieces of work, to be sure, but not, I think, the sort of thing that I’ll be clamouring to add to my collection any time soon.

The latest entry, Rimbaud (2022), is amusing for the unashamed manner in which it embraces its lavender heart. This one is certainly worth another sniff, mainly for its attempt to follow a different path from that taken by Caron Pour Un Homme and to avoid overt sweetness.

The two I found most intriguing were Cologne Francaise (2019) and, as you’ll know if you watched my video about it, Reptile (2019). The former is a curious, none-too-clean, mossy-musky-green cologne, with more than a hint of Etat Libre D’Orange Rien. And the latter is an even-harder-to-define, dry, powdery leather, that does genuinely evoke scaly skin enjoying the scalding heat of a Texan desert. What’s most fascinating is that it manages to do all this whilst remaining quiet throughout its development, as though surreptitiously scuttling across a sandy landscape, determined to remain undercover. 

Maison Rebatchi

If I sound a touch harsh about the Celines, then it’s only because I wish to counterbalance the hyperbole surrounding them. To be clear, as a whole, I consider them to be solid pieces of work, without being especially exemplary. It’s for the same reason that I’m being reserved about Maison Rebatchi*. Two of their fragrances were featured in a recent episode of Love At First Scent. Of the remainder, Bois D’Enfants (Karine Chevallier; 2019) features a charming, abstract interplay between rose and raspberry, not unlike Tauer Une Rose Vermeille. Musc Panache (Maurice Roucel; 2019) presents a fairly convincing white-on-white-on-white vista, punctuated with cardamom, iris and honeysuckle. Jasmin Satin (Karine Dubreuil; 2021) is reminiscent of Dior Grand Bal, with a suitably opulent, Blue-Danube-humming take on white florals. And Cuir Tassili (2019) showcases Alienor Massenet’s unique skill for creating accords that are both perplexing and attention-sparking. In this case, she’s fashioned a leather that calls to mind a satchel trapped for years in a cage of seaweed and salt water. Her work here is shrill and could be accused of lacking body, but it’s certainly the most original member of this particular line-up.

Vintage Guerlain Habit Rouge

Finally, some of you may be interested to learn that I recently managed to get my hands on a well-looked-after bottle of vintage Guerlain Habit Rouge edt**; an edition from the 1990s, if the web’s batch code guides are to be believed. I adore the current eau de toilette of Habit Rouge. And, incidentally, I wait with dread to discover what effect the Lilial ban will have on the scent. Perhaps I’m lucky and the formula doesn’t contain a single drop of this most ubiquitous of materials. For the moment, the incarnation we have is glorious. So it was with some trepidation that I sprayed my newly-acquired bottle, wondering if it might completely alter my assessment of one of my favourite compositions of all time. I needn’t have worried. To be sure, the vintage is notably different (there’s a mossier feel in the base, and less luminosity in the top notes) but that may simply be a consequence of this particular juice being a few decades old. Other than that, it’s unquestionably my dear HR: a heart-breaking essay on all the most sensitive, idealistic and courageous facets of masculinity. For once, all the hype remains well-deserved.

Persolaise

For more thoughts on Habit Rouge, please click here.

* sample provided by the brand
** sample obtained by me

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