Forumowa prasówka

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Wątek dla artykułów prasowych na temat perfum:-)

'J' My Name Is Jicky

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'J' My Name Is Jicky

NY Times
www.nytimes.com/2005/10/16/style/tmagazine/t_b_2103_endpage_.html

Men go wild for Jicky. French women shunned it when it made its debut in 1889,
preferring cloying florals to its hot-blooded musk of vanilla and rose. But
their husbands adored it, even wore it themselves; then their wives came
around, and Jicky became the world's first truly androgynous scent. The
photographer Craig McDean liked to wear it, he told the model Jicky Schnee,
when they shot the Calvin Klein jeans campaign in 1997. Schnee thinks she got
the job, one of her first big campaigns, partly because of her name: a bit of
romantic whimsy by Schnee's parents. Jicky was the name of the long-lost love
of Aimé Guerlain, the perfume's creator, and the diminutive of Jacques, his
nephew. When Schnee was a child, her parents steeped her in Jicky lore and
every year gave her one of its distinctive bottles, including the one with a
frosted glass dropper and old-fashioned lettering. Though she wears Jicky only
occasionally, Schnee is keenly aware of how being tethered to an icon can
affect one's life. "Everyone else in my family is a doctor, so it's kind of
weird that I ended up working in fashion," she says. She's also now part of a
fashion clan: her husband is the photographer Matt Jones, and her father-in-law
is Terry Jones, the founding editor of i-D magazine, just the type of men who
would have blazed a trail in 1889.

Zdjęcie:
graphics8.nytimes.com/images/2005/10/16/style/tmagazine/end.184.jpg

The moment I wake up (Rochas Femme)

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The moment I wake up
Hannah Betts
Times Online

women.timesonline.co.uk/article/0,,17909-1825969,00.html
It is a marketeer’s rather than a sensualist’s notion that a perfume might be
in vogue (witness the tawdry hype over Giorgio or cK one), but there are times
when there is a sense of there being something in the air. And, as fashion
lingers once again on the undulation of breast and hip, that something smells
like Rochas’ Femme, the scent of a world gone curved (from £21).

Roland Mouret may be the architect of today’s hourglass, but for the early 20th
century Marcel Rochas was clincher-in-chief. Long before Dior’s "New Look",
Rochas took up arms against the Twenties garçonne style, combating straight up
and down flapper simplicity with lavish feminine contours, be it his sirène
evening gowns, bustiers, or guêpière wasp-waisted underwear. In 1943 he
encountered the personification of his ideal in Hélène, an 18-year-old model.
He married her a year later, presenting her with Femme as a wedding gift. The
association did not prevent Rochas from designing its flacon along the
proportions of his erstwhile fascination, Mae West, its ample curves swathed in
straining black lace.



Like Hélène, Femme was aptly named – a rich, rounded, candied fruit chypre,
magnificently voluptuous. From its very first referent it is suggestive of
feminine fecundity, a ripe peach note created by the aldehyde C-14 found in
that other great fruit chypre, Guerlain’s Mitsouko (1919). Like a peach, Femme
smells tactile, possessor of a velvet plushness like the down on skin or fruit;
one wants to press one’s cheek against it. Its creator, the legendary
Roudnitska, eventually turned his back on his "gourmandise" phase in favour of
the magisterial clarity of his symphony of fragrances for Dior. But this was
wartime and needs must, and Roudnitska had been experimenting with butter
substitutes. The pâtisserie-feel to the scent chimed with Rochas’ conviction
that a woman should be good enough to eat. Yet, the genius of the fragrance is
that the mossy chypre notes at its foundation prevent the effect from becoming
cloying; its amberous and disarming muskiness, not least.

Ten years later, Marcel was no more, his widow, as a consequence, the youngest
CEO in France. In 1960 she announced herself in this new incarnation, again in
olfactory form, in the guise of Madame Rochas: a bouquet of white flowers set
amid the powdered-nose elegance of orris, on a woody base (from £21). Her
chosen perfumer was Guy Robert, who composed Hermès’ Calèche at around the same
time. Both fragrances are the epitome of decorum, ladylike where Femme had been
all woman. Indeed, Madame Rochas can be interpreted as Hélène’s riposte to
those who had sought to capture her a decade earlier, and a gesture of self-
assertion. It is brisk where Femme is languorous, chic where it is sensual,
linear of flacon where its predecessor is curved, nestling in tapestry rather
than lace. Prim, no, but proper, certainly.

Typically, I enjoy femininity as set off by a "male" scent: donning something
homme to reveal oneself as femme. But this winter, I find myself ready to
surrender to pure, untrammelled femininity. The moment I douse myself in Femme
I am transported down to the pungent promise in its base notes, an alchemy that
takes place only when that is the element one desires.

One Nosy Dame (Sarah Jessica Parker)

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One Nosy Dame
By CHANDLER BURR
NY Times

www.nytimes.com/2005/10/16/style/tmagazine/t_b_2091_2092_talk_sarah_.html

Sarah Jessica Parker and I are sitting on the steps of her West Village
brownstone. She's telling me how she created Lovely, her first scent. "The idea
that you like something," she says, "can lead you to the idea that you know
something about it." She raises her eyebrows, looking very pretty and a bit
alarmed. "Which is, of course, not necessarily the case."

Here's how it happened. "I've always, always, always thought about creating my
own scent," she says. "After 20 years, I got brave enough to talk to my agent,
Peter Hess, at C.A.A., about it. Peter said, 'Great, good to know.' And I
thought, O.K. And then suddenly he called, and the instant I met Catherine" -
Catherine Walsh, the senior vice president of Lancaster Group - "I mean, we'd
barely exchanged pleasantries, and it felt so right with her."

Lancaster is one of the leading creative perfume houses that guide mostly
designers and famous people through the complex, daunting, often scary process
of building, bottling, introducing and retailing their scents. Walsh has an
excellent reputation in the industry, and as we walk toward Bleecker Street -
"Are you hungry? Gosh, I have got to get a slice of pizza" - Parker talks
about her with awe. "When Catherine and I started, I gave her my idea."

So you already had a specific scent in mind, I say.

"Oh, yeah. Very specific - and this sounds strange perhaps - but I had already
created a fragrance, something I wore for years. Three scents I mixed on my
skin, and honestly, it was terrific. The grips would say, 'Wow, what are you
wearing?"'

What were the scents?

She hesitates. "Do you think it's bad to say?"

No. Why?

She considers. "Well, first, I'd buy a drugstore musk, $6.99 a bottle at
Thrifty." What was it called? "Uhhh." She touches my arm. "I think I better not
say." I pretend to look hurt. She laughs. O.K., and the second? "An Egyptian
oil from an African-American gentleman who used to sell them on lower Broadway.
Third was a fairly costly male scent." Off the record, she tells me what it is.
I'm surprised - it's edgy, with a dark, forbidding aesthetic. That's not, I
say, a combination I'd see you creating. "Oh, it's me," she says
instantly. "Love it. Really dirty. Really sexy."

We turn left down Bleecker.

Parker gave her really dirty, really sexy idea to Walsh, and Walsh chose
Parker's perfumers, Clement Gavarry and Laurent le Guernec, two young Frenchmen
based in New York at the giant scent maker International Flavors and
Fragrances. Gavarry and le Guernec built the first draft of Lovely. "And guess
what," Parker says grimly. "The oiliness bothered me. And also I'd wanted my
scent to be genderless, but they noted that my first time out, a feminine is so
much more classic. And my dirtiness instinct gave Catherine pause. She
said: 'Listen, you need to think about whether you can sell this to women. The
market very well might not follow you there. Yet.' And I thought, My God, so
what do I do now?"

I take her into Ovando, the flower store at 337 Bleecker. "That smell," she
says. "That green." She buries her nose in sumptuous tea roses. "God, roses
that smell of rose. They're all deli roses now." She looks daintily
severe. "Deli roses just don't cut it." She picks up thistles, inhales, shoves
them over. "Chandler, you've gotta smell this!" The thistles smell beautifully
of dust and hay. "We're around hay a lot in Ireland," Parker says. "We help
them unload it, and my husband smells of it."

A few doors down, at Goodfellas, she orders us pepperoni slices. "Hey!" one of
the pizza guys says to her, "you got a perfume now, right?"

"I do," she says. He narrows his eyes.

"Yeah? So whaddya put in that stuff?"

"It has a tiny, teeny little bit of orange blossom," she says, "and we cut in a
little lavender and patchouli." Light, floral, polite scents. The guy looks
impressed.

We walk up Greenwich Avenue. The sky has become menacing. "If we took truth
pills," she says, "us Americans, with our antibacterial soap and deodorants -
we love B.O.! We love the smell of us. Our bodies."

And that's what you wanted in your perfume? "That's what I wanted.

We worked on it and worked on it and worked on it and worked on it.

Toward the end, Catherine said our fine-tuning was like splitting atoms."

Celebrities and fashion designers often never lay eyes on the perfumers who
build their scents (this is not necessarily caprice; between the ethyl maltol
and the trans-2-hexanal, it is amazingly easy for nonprofessionals to lose
their way). But during the final stages, Walsh, quite unusually, put Parker
together with Gavarry and le Guernec. "You have the images in your head," Walsh
said to her, "and the words you need to express them."

We talk about the smells of the Village: the chalky scent of hot brick; New
York's perfume of warm asphalt; the hot, dry cement. Huge raindrops start a
slow barrage, and we run, she in heels, laughing, for home. She pushes open the
door. Her son, James, in pajamas, is surprised, and then delighted, to see her.

We take James up to the living room, large and clean and cool, and she sort of
bites her lip and gives me a look. "Wait." Disappears. Comes back. She's
holding three bottles.

Her scents. "O.K.," she says with a smile. "The first is Bonne Bell Skin Musk."
American drugstore perfume, its cheap kitsch wonderful. (She looks over at
James, realizing what he is softly singing. "In our yellow," she sings, filling
in the next words. "Submarine," he sings back to her, completing the line.)
Next, she hands me a vial of the Egyptian oil. I apply it on top of the Bonne
Bell. The third is Comme des Garçons Incense Avignon: smoky, heavy, dark,
perverse, slightly brutal. The three together are powerful and strange. She
inhales the crepuscular musk mix on my arm. "Lovely is, precisely, what I hoped
for," she says calmly. "If I get the opportunity, my next scent will be
genderless. Fuller. Riskier."

Which is exactly what's interesting about the structure of Lovely: it is, in
fact, a risk, successfully negotiated to a degree I suspect even Parker doesn't
totally realize. Lovely is a piece of extremely interesting technical work. In
its most immediate incarnation, it is an instantly legible, placeable perfume -
"perfume," in the classic French tradition of Hermès's Calèche, about which
you say, "That perfume she's wearing smells amazing," rather than, say, the
modernist scents done so well by Fresh and Jo Malone, in which a material - a
pear, a cup of sake, a peel of tree bark - is transformed into a fragrance, and
you say, "She smells amazing," as if the thing emanated from her. One
doesn't "smell of" Lovely. One wears it. One puts it on. Lovely is a light
party dress of powder and sweet, the scent equivalent of a terrific wrap of
soft, floating fabric that I saw enveloping the shoulders of a young woman
strolling the streets

of the East Village last summer. One notices that lovely wrap.

This is why it takes a bit of time to notice that Parker has, in fact, gotten
what she wanted, though in a very astute way. By the next time I meet her, I've
been wearing Lovely for a week. If you pay attention, the scent reveals its
structure, a sheath of light built around a core of dark, the scent of the skin
of the shoulders of a clean, warm human body. And, I now realize, the core
emanates from you.

I doubt that Parker knew the perfumery term "animalic" - I forgot to ask her
about it - but she had the concept, and she found a way to express it. Taking
Lancaster's (probably wise) market

[sorbet]

I doubt that Parker knew the perfumery term "animalic" - I forgot to ask her
about it - but she had the concept, and she found a way to express it. Taking
Lancaster's (probably wise) marketing advice, she created a lilting perfume
welded to an invisible platform, as masculine as it is feminine, animalic, hard-
core, ever so sweaty. The woman we see and the woman we don't. At first.

Zapach sukcesu:-)

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perfumeriaquality.pl/popup_img.php?im=462

Luca Turin o "cudach" naturalnych perfum:-)

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lucaturin.typepad.com/perfume_notes/2005/09/tripledistilled.html

Nowy adres forum Perfume of Life:

[forevermore79]

perfumeoflife.org/index.php?showforum=6
Faktycznie latwiejszy do przegladania, czyli "dodac do ulubionych" :-)

Nowy adres strony o nutach zapachowych

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www.bojensen.net/EssentialOilsEng/EssentialOils.htm
Miłej lektury:-)

Uncommon scent, Wallpaper (ang.)

[sorbet]

www.wallpaper.com/beauty/1031
This year, close to 400 new perfumes will be launched. A substantial number
will smell the same – that is, something similar to the bestsellers (currently
Chanel No 5 for women and Jean Paul Gaultier's Le Mâle for men). Many of them,
though representing quite disparate brands, will be created by the same
perfumers, selected from the relatively small pool of internationally acclaimed
noses. Very few of the scents might be described as truly innovative or
individual.

The purity of the perfumer's art is becoming lost in the clunking machinery of
today's fragrance industry. So vast are the distribution goals, so powerful the
marketing mavens, that character and individuality are invariably ironed out in
the lab-to-bag process in order to minimise the risk of commercial failure.

The industry's plummet towards mass-market mediocrity explains the growing
trend for 'curated' scents, in which the middle men are cut out. Retailers and
insiders with clout are commissioning the scents, and developing direct links
with the perfumers that are more akin to the painter-curator relationship.

The latest to contribute to the movement is NellyRodi, a trends-prediction
agency based in Paris. With Scent Factory – a line of eight scents that is
appearing in niche stores such as Milan's 10 Corso Como and New York's Aedes De
Venustas – the agency took its nous directly to the noses of three of the
largest fragrance manufacturers (Mane, Robertet and Symrise) and asked for a
scent from each. The brief was broad – an exploration of 'the oriental
olfactory family' – and the budget unrestricted.

Scent Factory closely follows a new line of scents, Curated by Colette, from
the Paris fashion mecca credited with being the first concept store. The
collaboration brought together Colette's creatives, three of their favourite
designers (Hussein Chalayan, As Four and Bless), and fragrance manufacturers
Symrise.

Unfettered by endless rounds of testings and modifications, these lines allow a
bit of adventure, personal taste and experience to show through. They resemble
nothing their creators have contributed to the mass market. And they are
retailed in limited numbers, in the knowledge that they will appeal to a small
market of open-minded consumers.

Frédéric Malle, the Paris-based fragrance entrepreneur, is undoubtedly the
originator of this phenomenon. An industry insider who had worked in perfume
labs and as a consultant to Christian Lacroix, among others, he recognised that
the perfumers' art was frequently lost to the demands of mass distribution. But
he also realised that noses, however talented, often need a certain amount of
steering. So in 2000 he opened shop himself and invited a few of the most
reputable noses to create a juice with no limitations. He would be there to
discuss and guide their creations as much as they wanted and needed
him. 'Perfumers need partnership. I call myself éditeur de parfums, or
publisher,' he says. 'The perfumer is the most important person in the
fragrance-making link, but is often modest, and – with one or two exceptions –
no perfumer has ever done a great perfume entirely alone. Some publishers
rewrite, some publish as is. You have to adapt to who you are working with.'


The value of creative freedom, with the attentions of a small but influential
market as the return, has not passed by the larger fragrance companies, who are
themselves finding ways to dabble. Guerlain has done it with a new line called
L'Art et la Matičre. Sylvaine Delacourte, Guerlain's director of fragrance
development, is the curator; she picked ingredients historically favoured by
the fragrance house – rose, angelica and leather – and invited three
contemporary noses, Francis Kurkdjian, Daničle Andrier and Olivier Polge, to
give their take. Hermčs and Armani have also made niche-appeal perfumes
(Hermessence and Armani Privé) that go some way towards returning to the
intimate relationship between couturier and perfumer.

'The industry is becoming a two-speed business,' explains Malle, 'producing
personal perfumes for those with time and the inclination to look for them, and
then mass-appeal perfumes, import and duty-free-driven, for the less curious.'
Over to us to choose whether we'd rather scent ourselves with a rare exhibit,
or a production-line perfume.

O "nowym" butiku Guerlain przy Champs-Elysées

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www.wallpaper.com/beauty/859
French polish

Zdjęcie:
www.wallpaper.com/uimages/lg/001654.jpg

It takes guts to embark on a modernising makeover of a fragrance institution
whose trump cards are its 180-year history of fine fragrance making and its
sumptuous seat in a belle époque edifice on the Champs-Elysées. But Guerlain
has bitten the bullet. 'It was time to build a bridge between tradition and
modernity,' says Renato Semerari, the company's CEO. Answerable to parent
company, LVMH, he has steered clear of the short-term marketing strategies of
its couture confrčres and focused funds and creative attention on regaining the
boutique's status as a global magnet for scent-loving sybarites.

The Guerlain boutique has been located at 68 Champs-Elysées since 1914. In 1939
came the first makeover and early recognition that the design and beauty worlds
can make a happy marriage. Authors of the then fashionable 'austere luxury'
aesthetic, Jean-Michel Frank and Adolphe Chanaux, were charged with turning the
first floor into the 'Institute', which is often credited as being the first
modern-day spa. Diego Giacometti created conch-shaped light fittings and
Christian Bérard designed a velvet hanging.

So it seems appropriate that the person chosen to carve out the new interior
should be France's doyenne of design, Andrée Putman. As a teenager, Putman was
always sneaking away from her Guerlain-groomed family in the 6th arrondissement
to hang out with the likes of Giacometti, Picasso and Sartre. A designer with a
better understanding of the brand's heritage would be hard to find. She teamed
up with architect Maxime d'Angeac to sensitively rework the design.

'There was a sentimental pull to this project. My clearest memories of my
mother are of her drifting out of the house in a cloud of Shalimar,' says
Putman. 'Guerlain was modern then and has to be modern now, but without
forgetting its past.'

Translucent beaded curtains partially screen the first floor emporium from the
bustle of the not-so-Elysian boulevard outside. But the real focal point is the
vast gold-beaded chandelier that drops from the ceiling through the centre of
the circular display that holds all the fragrances.

Not wanting to rely too heavily on the draw of the new deco, the company has
added new enticements: a bespoke perfumery service, limited re-editions of
classics, a commemorative perfume called Plus Que Jamais Guerlain, a home
fragrance line, and bottle customisation and refills from a 'perfume fountain'.

The Champs-Elysées might not be living up to its name any more, but number 68
is doing its best to preserve its reputation as a preening paradise.

Wallpaper :-)

[forevermore79]

O, widze, ze odkryles netowa strone wallpapera- ja ja sobie czasem przegladam,
jako, ze lubie wydanie drukowane- piekna estetyka!
O perfumach jest tam jeszcze troche:
Lynx bespoke dla japonskiego Oki-ni (fajny concept):
www.wallpaper.com/beauty/1021
Lubie tez sama stronke oki-ni- te krotkie designerskie serie:
www.oki-ni.com/okini.storefront/EN/catalog/1203
O niszowych:
www.wallpaper.com/beauty/1031
:-)

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No:-) wreszcie zrobili porządna stronę, a nie tylko "piękny filmik w flashu":-)
który był chyba przez długi czas.

Ale ubolewam, że w czasopiśmie jest za mało mody, hihi.

A4 o LArtisan

[sorbet]

Wasz sorbet pisze o perfumach w A4 :-P

O L'Artisan
perfumeriaquality.pl/index.php?nr=305
i o znanych perfumeriach
perfumeriaquality.pl/index.php?nr=290
Życzę miłego czytania, hihi.

NYTimes o tym o czym wiemy od dawna:-P

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www.nytimes.com/2006/03/23/fashion/thursdaystyles/23UNISEX.html
Scent of a Person

By RUTH LA FERLA
WHEN it comes to fragrance, Trevor Mitchell is an equal opportunity sampler.
Mr. Mitchell, a professional tenor, is not averse to a spritz of citrus or musk
now and then. But neither is he shy or furtive about misting himself with
essence of jasmine or tuberose.

Not everyone shares his evenhanded approach. Mr. Mitchell is an ardent fan of
an effusive rose scent by Creed called Fleurs de Bulgarie. The first time he
bought it, he recalled, "the people at the fragrance counter just assumed I was
buying it for someone else."

He chafes at such typecasting. "I decided a long time ago I would buy and wear
what I like to smell," he said. "It has nothing to do with gender, sexuality or
any of that."

Mr. Mitchell is a member of a small but influential (and sometimes persnickety)
clan, fragrance lovers — youthful, sophisticated, affluent and, increasingly,
male — who thumb a nose at artificial gender distinctions. They are men bored
by the industry's conventional interpretation of manhood as a blast of lime,
leather or musk. They are women who prowl men's fragrance counters when
shopping for a scent, heading without bias where their noses lead them.
Increasingly they gravitate to scents and brands that are blended, positioned
and marketed without regard to sex.

"We're finding that when it comes to fragrance, old sensibilities and tastes
are breaking down," said Lucy Perdomo-Ruehlemann, the vice president for global
marketing for Jo Malone, the British fragrance house. Today industry insiders
recognize that to more and more customers, buying fragrance by gender is a
notion as quaint as gaiters.

To embrace those consumers, Jo Malone, and houses like Fresh, Creed and Bond
No. 9, are simply sidestepping the issue of sex altogether, letting the
customer decide what is appropriate. A few of these brands are claiming their
own store real estate, a neutral environment set apart from the men's or
women's fragrance counters.

They also avoid being typecast by offering neutral packaging: bottles and
labels that look as though they might contain premium vodkas. Neither
stereotypically masculine nor feminine, their notes are unexpected, often sharp
or crisp and darkly sensuous at the same time, as in a blend of mandarin spiked
with nutmeg and softened with vanilla or musk.

Gender-neutral fragrances appeal to Austin Cohen, a real estate investor in his
20's who likes to douse himself with Bleecker Street from Bond No.
9. "Basically my rule is don't wear something you'll smell on a lot of people,"
Mr. Cohen said.

Bleecker Street may have a conventionally feminine aura, redolent of violet
leaf, jasmine and vanilla, but it passes his sniff test as a preferable
alternative to sprays mass-marketed to young men. "I don't want to show up at
the party in Drakkar or Obsession, something that I wore in puberty," he said.

For similar reasons Elizabeth Lawton has backed away from pronouncedly feminine
scents, heady floral or powdery notes, which she regards as dated.

"I love to wear something quite natural with a citrus base," said Ms. Lawton,
27, a writer. "Men love it. It's not cloying, and it doesn't remind them of
their Great Aunt Lily or marzipan."

Perfumers are betting that even the most tradition minded shoppers will not be
put off by scents with neutral-sounding names like Jo Malone Lime Basil
Mandarin or Pomegranate Noir, the fragrance world equivalent of Chris or
Leslie. They appeal pretty much to both sexes, Ms. Perdomo-Ruehlemann said. So
do L'Eau d'Hiver, Musc Ravageur and Bigarade (made by Éditions Frédéric Malle);
Silver Mountain Water and Impériale Millésime (Creed); Premier Figuier and Thé
Pour un Été (L'Artisan Parfumeur); and L'Eau d'Orange Verte (Hermès).

Bleecker Street, Wall Street and Little Italy, gender-free offerings from Bond
No. 9, also appeal to all, said Laurice Rahmé, the impresario behind them, and
account for about 50 percent of its sales. Ms. Rahmé argues that to her
customers, separating perfumes by sex makes no more sense than doing so with
food or wine. "Those pleasures, too, are genderless," she said.

The most daring consumers are dabbling in scents that appear to be aimed at the
opposite sex. Pink Jasmine by Fresh, for instance, has as many male as female
devotees, said Lev Glazman, a founder of the house, as does its Cannabis
Santal, never mind its faint whiff of men's sweat.

Despite their growing popularity, few gender-neutral fragrances are poised to
compete with olfactory blockbusters like Chanel No. 5 or Pleasures by Estée
Lauder. Most are classed in the niche category, sold in only a few hundred
stores, compared with thousands of stores for mainstream brands.

Specific sales figures are not available, but niche cosmetics and fragrances,
including nongender brands, account for more than 20 percent of the department
store beauty business, said Karen Grant, the senior beauty analyst for NPD
Beauty, which tracks fragrance and cosmetics sales.

These fragrances are distinct, in marketing terms if not necessarily in
composition, from "unisex" scents, which last made a splash in the late 90's.
The difference is chiefly one of classification: unisex scents are specifically
promoted as such.

"We haven't seen any major launches calling themselves unisex fragrances," Ms.
Grant said. "But we have seen niche trends lead to innovations." Gender-free
niche fragrances "are definitely climbing in the rankings," she said.

The problem with scents classed as unisex, Ms. Grant said, is that stores are
not sure where to place them. Only the more progressive merchants are willing
to "double expose" fragrances: that is, sell them at women's fragrance counters
and on the men's floor as well.

"We don't focus on shared fragrances," said Bettina O'Neill, the manager of
cosmetics for Barneys New York. "But we know from what people are wearing that
they don't care, 'Is this a man's scent or a woman's scent?' It's more
about, 'Is this unique?' " At Barneys, scents like Musc Ravageur or Route du
Thé, a private label, are hits with both women and men, she said.

A few adventurous fragrance houses have reintroduced the concept of "unisex," a
word last bandied about in 1994 with the introduction of CK One, the wildly
successful blend of bergamot, papaya, rose, nutmeg and musk from Calvin Klein.
These include Gaultier Puissance Deux (Gaultier to the Power of Two) and
Creed's Santal, both of which owe a debt to CK One.

CK One, which faded in popularity for several years, is being rediscovered by
younger people who like its subtlety.

"The younger generation uses fragrance in a different way," said Jenny B. Fine,
the editor of the trade publication Beauty Biz. "They like scents that aren't
obtrusive, that give off an aura more than an odor."

Unisex or "shared" or "universal" scents, as some companies now prefer to call
them, predate CK One, going back at least to the 1960's, when dandelion-
garlanded hippies began dousing themselves with patchouli and musk oils
redolent of gypsies in the woods, or unwashed socks, depending on who was doing
the sniffing.

The new Gaultier fragrance, a blend of amber, musk and vanilla, is intended to
complement the unisex fashions Mr. Gaultier introduced on his runway for fall.
Packaged in twin flasks joined by magnets, it will be sold at Bloomingdale's
and Sephora stores this spring.

"Beyond gender distinction, beyond masculine or feminine ... simply human," as
it is described in the press release, the Gaultier "will appeal to the young
and hip," predicted Louis Desazars, the presiden

[sorbet]

"Beyond gender distinction, beyond masculine or feminine ... simply human," as
it is described in the press release, the Gaultier "will appeal to the young
and hip," predicted Louis Desazars, the president of Beauté Prestige
International, its maker.

It is as likely to be seductive to others who have simply grown bored with
conventional fragrance marketing, said Emmanuel Saujet, the chief executive of
Creed North America, which has consistently declined to designate a gender for
its scents.

Today the company plays it both ways, advertising Santal, the latest
introduction, with the image of a circle of bottles and a text that reads, "For
men and women." The fragrance is aimed not at a man or a woman, but at a
shopper eager to stand out from the herd, Mr. Saujet said.

"People want to be more individual, they want to have their own signature,"
chimed in Mr. Glazman of Fresh. "That's a very big part of this trend."

Fresh made its name with scents not clearly positioned for either sex, steering
clear of traditional men's scents, which with their ubiquitous citrus and green
notes, all smell alike, he maintained. "They are clean and soapy," he
said, "because that's that how society still thinks men should smell."

Not Chris Fenske. A research analyst in a financial company, Mr. Fenske is
partial to Creed Impériale Millésime. "My girlfriend used to use it," he
said, "but I have no problems with that."

Similarly Mr. Cohen, the real estate investor, finds scents that aggressively
trumpet their manliness as stale as a day-old croissant. Those that
convey "that old sense of being very dominant, men's locker room old clubhouse
kind of thing," he said, "they have kind of passed us by."

O tym jak J-C Ellena tworzyl Un Jardin sur le Nil

[gracef1]

www.chandlerburr.com/articles/chandlerdetail.htm

Twój Styl

[olesiam]

na szczescie zmienia sie na lepsze:)
W numerze lipcowym (minimalistycznie, ale zawsze:)-o najnowszym zapachu
LLempickiej, "ubieraniu flakonów w piękne szaty"-M.Micallef, Stella,Fleur
Imperiale,tez o Miller Harris, Agent Provocateur,Grey Flannel-z Londynskich
butików,Angelique Noire Guerlain ,Rahat Loukoum i Ambre Sultan z Palais Royal
orazbutikowy zapach Castelbajac ze stolicy Francji,Annie Sui from NY.Także o
nowościach Missoni.
Tak trzymać, ale wciąż mało...

Onet - zapachy wakacji

[vanilia72]

uroda.onet.pl/1328206,,,,,zapachy_wakacji,dzial.html

A4

[olesiam]

W najnowszym numerze wywiad z Sissel Tolaas,troszke o wodach kolońskich CdG i
M.Jacobsa (z opisem metody Forevera do pewnej metody aplikacji zapachów:), tez
ciekawe zdjecia w rubryce towarzyskiej:)
www.scent-systems.com/sissel-tolaas.htm

Twój Styl

[vanilia72]

Hilary dla zuchwałych - jak pachnie najnowszy Guerlain?
Relacja z premiery Insolence.

Miss Malwina w Grasse

[perfumiarz]

wiadomosci.gazeta.pl/wiadomosci/1,60153,3542249.html

Twoj Styl

[olesiam]

Maria Szczepanska-artykul o projektantach flakonow i nie tylko.Plus za pomysl
(moj ulubiony temat:), minus za koszmarne wrecz zdjecia:(

[wild_daffodil]

Marysia jeszcze w liceum mocno interesowala sie perfumami. Z tego co pamietam w
jej domu zawsze bylo mnostwo flakonow. Pewnie sama podsunela taki temat.

Sygnowane zapachy (Rzeczpospolita)

[rene.p]

Piąta aleja - dodatek do dzisiejszej Rzeczpospolitej :)
Troszkę o twórcach perfum. Na warsztat wzięto: Allure Sensuelle, Bulgari pour
Femme, L de Lolita Lempicka, Kenzo Amour. Szkoda, że to tylko jedna mała
stroniczka :(
Mam jeszcze pytanie: czy w tej chwili ukazuje się w Polsce jakieś czasopismo o
perfumach? Według mnie nie, ale proszę o potwierdzenie.
Kiedyś były takie gazetki, do których dołączano nawet miniaturki perfum, ale to
zdaje się zamierzchłe czasy.

[mogra1]

kobieta.wp.pl/kat,26373,wid,8601896,wiadomosc.html?P%5Bpage%5D=1&rfbawp=1163879409.076&ticaid=12b4d

Twój Styl

[olesiam]

nadal ostroznie o niszowcach, ale zdjęc masa:)

[elve]

aha
jak również rewelacje, że Touch of Pink to zapach damski chętnie noszony przez
facetów :D

[olesiam]

Mnie zastanawia, co robi w pachnidlach Marii Antoniny Twill Rose
Rosine...zobaczyli rozowy sznureczek, a juz powachac zapomnieli;)

I o poszukiwaniu zapachu doskonalego...

[gracef1]

www.nytimes.com/2006/12/03/style/tmagazine/03teau.html?pagewanted=1&ei=5070&en=8bff6f83bd510ee5&ex=1168923600

O "doswiadczaniu" perfum JAR

[gracef1]

www.basenotes.net/columnists/addicted-jan07.html