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· May 17, 2008 3:08 PM by
Colleen Shirazi
· May 17, 2008 4:49 PM by
Dain
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Posted by Dain, Saturday, May 17, 2008 12:14 AM (Eastern)
I am sometimes taken aback by the exquisite cruelty of No. 19.
Perfumes are like people, or, to be more specific, like potential mates: the majority are blandly nice, some are charming teases (popular but without depth), and a few are downright repellent. As in life, truly exceptional perfumes are rare; who can explain why we love? You'll have to forgive the revisitation, but, along with Tabac Blond from the house of Caron and Mitsouko from the house of Guerlain, No. 19 is one of those rare individuals. If pressed, I'd wager that each is the very best offering from these revered houses, though not necessarily the most iconic or wearable iterations. The basis of my reasoning is rather obscure, as they smell rather unlike (in spite of the chypre connection): I find them utterly dignified. They may not allure from the first—indeed, most people find them somewhat difficult "to get to know", and it must be admitted I cannot pull off Tabac Blond—but it takes depth and complexity in a character to hold you fast in fascination for all life. It is rather like when you meet someone who is supremely confident. They don't need to impress, you'll come back, and if you are too insipid to realize what you have seen, it is you who are the poorer.
No. 19 makes me feel slightly gauche and uncertain; I never feel like I completely understand what she means. Like any exceptional perfume, you'll not perceive all its facets from a haphazard dab on the wrist. Like Henri Robert's other great contribution to Chanel (Cristalle), it has a sort of brittle reserve that distinguishes it from many a lushly self-indulgent banality. By 1970, aldehydic florals were surely par for the course, thanks to No. 19's more glamorous cousin No. 5, but here Robert takes the house signature and spins it into hyperbole. Aldehydes are more textural abstraction than naturalistic aromatic, so the effect, with chlorine galbanum as reinforcement, feels rather like wandering a subterranean garden cut from crystal (do you hope to pluck this dusky jewel?). For me, the drama tends to vacillate between salty-soprano white rose and peppery-earthy iris, while lily of the valley runs through the composition like a river of mercury, before pooling into the subtly leathery vetiver base. If you're looking for rooty, metallic iris par excellence, the EDT is an excellent place to start, but I personally prefer the parfum, in which the delicacy and the crucial structural elements (iris, galbanum, aldehydes) are maintained, but the floral bouquet is richer and more pronounced—I still think of it as a rose perfume.
Death by poison. To wear No. 19 is to sally forth to battle. And to take no prisoners.
Labels: beauty notes, chanel, perfume reviews
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May 17, 2008 3:08 PM,
He wrote that song for a black woman...the "dusky jewel."
Chanel is pretty good, I wish I could wear their stuff without developing a rash. mumbles...
May 17, 2008 4:49 PM,
I do tend to think of Hitchcock blondes when it comes to No. 19, but someone like Naomi Campbell would definitely give them all a run for their money, so it probably still works. : )
Aww... I forgot about your Chanel allergy! I thought you might enjoy this one, especially since you like No. 5 and the AG Heure Exquise.
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