Showing posts with label L'Artisan Parfumeur. Show all posts
Showing posts with label L'Artisan Parfumeur. Show all posts

10/21/23

Mûre et Musc (L'Artisan Parfumeur)


L'Artisan Parfumeur is one of those early niche lines from the seventies that reached peak popularity in the 2000s, and has since seen its cache descend under the tide of overpriced crap that has arisen since. I remember the rampant enthusiasm for L'Artisan fragrances on Basenotes between 2008 and 2013, right when the oud craze fully took hold, and I thought it was an esoteric brand that was only interesting to me because I had no interest in it. Maybe it was all the fawning praise for stuff like Méchant Loup and Dzing!, which were fun to read about, but failed to inspire me. Or perhaps it was that L'Artisan was "niche," but not really that expensive, and I was snobbily rejecting anything priced at less than a hundred dollars an ounce. I found it strange that Jean Laporte had created a brand, only to leave it four years later, and create Maître Parfumeur et Gantier to compete with it. Seems like something a CEO of an automaker in Detroit would do.

He released Mûre et Musc eau de toilette in 1978, and it is one of several L'Artisan works that has survived the decades relatively intact. Touted as a novel accord of blackberry and clean musk, the composition is every bit like a seventies drugstore musk, and is evocative of Jōvan Musk, smelling sharp, soapy, and acrid, which you'd expect from something much cheaper. This pungent bell-bottoms-in-a-bottle is rapidly ensconced in a tart blackberry note, which only smells like actual fruit for fifteen or twenty seconds before devolving into a basic sweetness that hums alongside the sweet muskiness. There's a serious Saturday morning cartoons vibe here. The competing polarities of sweetness form a sort of soft, fuzzy-purple shampoo effect, a touch cozy and kitschy, and easy to like. It's cool, a tad raunchy, and not as transparent as I thought it would be. 

I think I could get into Mûre et Musc if it weren't for things like Jōvan Musk and Monsieur Musk, which are infinitely cheaper and more durable. L'Artisan's longevity is middling in the EDT concentration, and I get about four to five hours before it turns into a barely-there whisper. During that mediocre duration, it's already pretty weak and unimposing, and smells like it would be hard to apply too much. More importantly, it smells like something I can get for far less money, which is annoying at these price points: $145 for 100 ml, which isn't exactly mind-blowing money, but enough to want more. Weirdly, Afnan's Supremacy in Heaven smells more complex and expensive, and costs $115 less. I guess you could argue that Mûre et Musc preceded many of the designer musks of the eighties, and thus its pedestrian quality is a feature and not a bug, but I still want my moolah back. 

4/5/12

Drole de Rose (L'Artisan Parfumeur)



Olivia Giocobetti's 1996 fruity floral fragrance for women, poetically named Drole de Rose, is also Ms. Giocobetti's only bald-faced fruity floral creation. Oh, I suppose one could point a finger at D'Orsay's Tilleul and its melon note, but Tilleul isn't very floral, it's more of a green, spring-fling sorta thing. Malle's En Passant is quite a bit more floral than anything else, although one might argue it has little to no sweetness beyond soft, rounded lilac. Giocobetti has a simple soliflore in that scent. The same holds true for Hiris by Hermes, this time with the focus on iris and a few other flowers, but not a drop of fructose to be found. Honore des Pres' Bonte's Bloom is a straightforward floral.

L'Artisan's own Mandarine Tout Simplement is really just a mandarin scent, spruced up with some woods and perhaps the ghost of frangipani. Doesn't seem to have its heart in it. Maybe Le B by Agnis B comes close, although far more aquatic/musky than fruity floral. Remarkable how someone so talented and respected could successfully skirt all the current feminine department store trends and offer but one lone cliche. Sadly, this is what Drole de Rose is - a cliche, bottled at a premium. 

I'm an open-minded man who enjoys experimenting with gender norms in fragrance, and it's not beneath me to throw on a sweet floral with hints of fruit. But Drole de Rose is simply a sugary, lipsticky, neon-pink, abstract berry-infused rose and violet affair. It's not something I can connect with on any level. Which is frustrating, because it resembles a fragrance I can connect with: Paris by Yves Saint Laurent. The sharp sweetness of the violet is similar in both. 

Drole de Rose isn't a true rose soliflore, and this detracts from it. I don't know if the violet and sweet notes are meant to make the composition feel younger, or just "deeper," but whatever the desired effect is, it doesn't work. The fragrance just feels saccharine and unoriginal. A truly disappointing offering from this firm, particularly for lovers of rose soliflores. Stick with Paris if you want this sort of powdery sweetness. It's more classically composed, and not nearly as gauche.