Misia

Misia, the new bird in Chanel's flock of exclusive scents has pleasantly surprised me with its soft, down-like softness, warmth and retro sweetness. It immediately brings to mind candied violet petals, with its overdose of alpha ionones, which dominate the opening, giving it the characteristic cedar wood effect. This balances the sweetness of the composition, addinga woody, dry yet powdery and soft air to it. This is quickly taken over by juicy, fruity notes of a plush, dark-red rose. Raspberry and plum notes rule supreme with every stroke of this bold bluish-red lipstick. The iconic Lipstick Rose comes to mind, as well as the scent that pervades most of the current Guerlain cosmetics. But more on points of references later. While there is more than a gourmand hint to Misia, it does not in the least smell too obviously dessert-like, nor trashy. It does, however, give it a most addictive character. As the fruit and rose soften and become rounder, the sweet supporting base note begin to emerge, and they are the perfume-world equivalent of caramel: tonka bean, with its slightly bitter, powdery qualities of almond rocca; and benzoin, which is like liquified brown sugar, with a depth to its sweetness that stops it from being cloying. There is something about the dry down that is not how I'd expect this to end. It's thankfully not too powdery, nor too musky; and sweetness is played just right, balanced with an earthy nuttiness. If there is any leather in there I can't smell it, unfortunately.

If I didn't know the perfumer behind Misia is Olivier Pole (Jaqcues Polge's son and successor as Chanel's house perfumer) I would have guessed it's Sophia Grojsman (Lancome's Tresor and YSL's Paris smell like close relatives). But there is more violet than rose in Misia, which if I were to blind test this would make me think of it is a Guerlain. Not so much the old fashioned violet-laden Apres l'Ondee or l'Heure Bleue, but rather, Meteorites (a scent that was phased out and instead was used to scent their makeup line of the same name); or perhaps a more agreeable version of their recent violet-dominated La Petite Robe Noire (which although I like its idea, I find it to be more than a tad too brash to my taste). But again I will contradict that notion because Misia's character is a more nuanced and less invasive.

With all these references to existing non-Chanel fragrances, you can probably already guess that there is nothing particularly groundbreaking about it. However, in the context of it being part of the Chanel family, and comparing it to the rest of the collection, it is admittedly quite refreshing to be offered the choice of a perfume that it is not nearly as austere, angular or aloof as the temperament of this house tends to lean on. Misia seems even more "out of place" than Coromandel was at its time - a patchouli fragrance in a collection of iris and aldehydic florals. But even Coromandel has a coolness to it, a bit of a sharp edge that surrounds a very clean, albeit sweetened patchouli. Misha wants to crawl right next to my Bois des Iles bottle and cuddle, while still wearing its silk stockings and with a fully powdered and made-up face.

Top notes: Ionones alpha (Violet notes), Raspberry, Plum
Heart notes: Rose, Orris, Damascones
Base notes: Tonka bean, Benzoin

28 La Pausa

Behind the Curtain, a photo by judy stalus on Flickr.

Revisiting 28 La Pausa, and the Les Exclusifs that came out in 2007. What's been around before (Bois des Îles, Cuir de Russie) has been watered down so much they remind me of a lukewarm instant coffee made by a pinchy in-law compared to a proper espresso. And the remainder seems like an elaborate, cerebral exercise in restrained variations on the Chanel originals: No. 19 and Bois des Îles being the primary sources of inspiration, with various iterations (Bel Respiro and La Pausa in reference to the first; No. 18 and the later-arrival Sycomore stemming from the latter). Both share recurring themes in varying proportions - primarily iris, indole, ambrette seed and greens to varying proportions. 28 La Pausa seems to have some leanings towards No. 18, with hints of ambrettolide, but non of the intriguing wine-like qualities of true ambrette.


28 La Pausa is very light, ethereal exercise in iris. Not the powdery, creamy orris butter that at the core of all the classic Geurlains; but rather a cool, airy rendition of this ethereal and obscure note, quite anemic if to be perfectly hones, and supported by ionone, irone and synthetic musks to extend its metallic presence without adding much longevity or blood. If the inspiration for it is the green-shuttered villa in southern France, then 28 La Pausa is the breeze blowing in the gauzy cotton curtains, bringing in the scent of a just-watered garden with iris and wet concrete pavement. There is a hint of indole in there, giving the ever so slightly warmth of jasmine petals. But it's not enough to bring in any of the relaxed, carefree Joie de Vivre spirit of southern France, nor its neighbouring Italian riviera the house is supposedly overlooking. If this is Chanel's mood on her vacations, then she's most likely sewing mosquito nets indoors, or else sketching patterns on a glass coffee table. She should be indulging in the fresh air, beaches and abundant Mediterranean scenery and loving sun. But she's not. She's cold inside her stone villa, letting only the cold sea breeze come in.


Although Gabrielle Chanel always followed her dreams and made them come true - always strikes me as a logical, down-to-earth person. She seemed quite restrained in her emotions, which in some way also comes across in her very put-together, tailored designs she's created; but that is not to say she had no emotions. Her passion was evident in the meticulous attention she's given to every stitch, in the bold audacity of her costume jewellery, and in her involvement in the artistic direction of the original perfumes. It is true that it took some time before No. 19 and Bois des Îles grew on me - but when they did, I could sense the vulnerable, playful, passionate personality behind them - even if she hasn't created the perfumes herself, she stood behind them completely and took Even after all these years, coming back to Les Exclusifs, I can't help but notice my feelings are completely untouched by each and every composition. There is no soul to them. Only cerebral reminiscing of Chanel's style, luxury and good taste. It's all about flaunting the several expensive ingredients at the core of the composition (iris, ambrette, jasmine from Grasse) but there is really no story behind it except for a brief that resembles an interior-decorator's outline for a very wealthy client.

Notes: Iris, Ionones, Jasmine, Indole, Ambrette, Musks.

Coromandel

Parlez-moi d'amour, a photo by Le Petit Musée de Columbus on Flickr.

Back when Chanel's Les Exclusifs came out, I wrote about Coromandel: "a modern oriental much in the vain of Prada and Allure Sensuelle, but one that I can stomach without gagging. If I happen to change my mind about it I will let you know. Promise".

Well, I haven't changed my mind. But since the patchouli series is still going, I thought I'll give it a more proper wearing and describe it in slightly more detail than before.

Coromandel has a funny name and is a thin, rather non inspiring oriental if there ever was one. Beginning with a floral-fruity mess that quickly leads to the patchouli premise everyone is hoping for, it does so with the assistance of agricultural-smelling molecules of upturned soil (geosmin?) that hints at less appetizing visions of sugar plums developing mold on the ground in late fall. Fruit and dirt might be a fertile combination, but not for the nose...

Once the chemicals quiet down, you can sense more of the patchouli, with what seems to have been its usual-accomplice (benzoin) and richer powdery vanillin that will pitch in only later.

I know Coromandel has its die-hard fans somewhere, but to me it was a very under-satisfying experience, even after the fruitsy notes left the stage. I would have expected something more polished, lacquered and poised with sophistication and depth - even if it has such a funny sounding name. In efforts to please the crowds, the result is less than pleasing and not quite befitting of the Chanel legacy. Pity, because I think it had a full potential of being one of those Chanel big-guns - Coco, for example; but instead tries to reach the younger audience of patchouli wannabes that can't tell musk from amber.

31 Rue Cambon

Me at AE, originally uploaded by sallyTV.

For some reason, I can never get overly excited about furniture. And when trying to think what is the best visual way to portray 31 Rue Cambon, I cannot stop thinking of neutral coloured furniture. I can admire the architecture of the bottle (magnetic cap maintains the alignment of the mirrored "cc" logo at all times). I can intellectualize about the validity of oakmoss-free chypre and analyze the construction of the fragrance. But as of yet, I remain unaffected, no matter how comfortable or elegant this fragrance may be.

At this age of technology and the internet leaking inside information about perfumes well before anyone could sniff them, it’s hard to keep an open mind and untainted or opinionated approach when smelling perfume for the first time.

I’m trying to remember what was I expecting from 31, Rue de Cambon before getting directly acquainted with it. I wasn’t expecting a particular kind of scent or mood or notes. No, the emotions were a mix between high-hopes and advance disappointment, combined together to create an accord of mixed feelings and suspicion. Keep in mind that 2007 was marked by serial niche releases – i.e. launching a collection of even as many as 12 perfumes instead of focusing on just one. Tom Ford Private Blends and Le Coffret from Thiery Mugler (to coincide with the movie release of Perfume: The Story of a Murderer) are just two prime examples of what is perhaps a new strategy to avoid bad reviews: overwhelm perfume bloggers and critiques with so much information that they simply don’t bother testing, thus avoiding possible negative criticism. The rationale, of course, is to get the consumer to such a heightened sense of confusion that will prompt him/her to purchase the entire collection instead of just one perfume.

So here I am, 2 years after 31 Rue Cambon saw the light of day, finally trying to pay more attention to it as a single fragrance. In the context of the entire collection released back in 2007, 31 Rue Cambon stood out right next to the quirky, nutty unpolished ambrette seeds of No. 18. Back than it reminded me of the understated woody and aldehydic-floral juxtaposition of Bois des Îles. Two years later, I’m still impressed with the first few moments of intrigue, where 31 Rue Cambon smells like how you’d expect a luxury good boutique to smell like (reference: Hermès Poivre Samarkand). For a few moments, the juxtaposition of orris, pepper and vetiver seems equally classy and fresh (in the sense of “new”). But is that really how “the best chypre of thirty years” that would “permanently change the landscape of perfumery” suppose to smell like?

31 Rue Cambon, originally uploaded by PallasAthena1081.

Or is it even a Chypre? Taking a closer sniff of it in recent weeks I’m even less convinced than I was ever before. Despite the fact that 31 Rue Cambon has the Chypric characteristic of creating a general homogenous impression at first, refusing to unveil what it’s made of right away, the threads that connect the elements are not as tightly woven as in a classic Chypre. And even though it does provide the sudden emergence of voluptuous flowers (jasmine and narcissus) it is not enough to get one’s heart racing as florals soar into the atmosphere – as one would experience in great Chypres such as Mitsouko, Femme or Miss Dior. And finally, lest me remind you that there is no oakmoss here so even when you get to the base of things I never got the satisfaction of dusting my feet in crushed dead autumn leaves or dampening my leather sandals in mossy forest floor. Instead, all I got was a thin layer of a vague woody-synthetic mixture of vetiver and patchouli that have been stripped down to their minimum representation – thus lacking any of the earthy foundation that makes a Chypre perfume so alluring and timeless. Chypre, after all, the epitome of urban chic born of the chaos of nature. It is complexity that made Chypres so near and dear to the perfumer and have in many ways, defined what was to become of modern perfumery.

I’ve been wearing 31 Rue Cambon for a few weeks now before bedtime and almost every single time I do I wake up 20 minutes later with an overwhelming olfactory sensation of heat and dryness. Testing it again yesterday morning, I was not surprised to find out that 20 minutes in this is the point where the synthetically-amplified patchouli kicks in. More than the lack of oakmoss, it’s the synthetic patchouli part that disturbs me in 31 Rue Cambon. Just as it does in Coromandel, Allure Sensuelle and earlier on – Coco Mademoiselle (and maybe also Chance, which I never was able to watch through the end because of its sharp edges and aggressive sillage). While the last two I’ve mentioned are far less hostile and have that sense of refinement – achieved by using the “precious woods” aspects of vetiver and patchouli.

And one last observation about the Les Exclusifs collection – I now realize that the six scents have more in common than I even thought before: An iris thread goes through the green and fresh Bel Respiro and 28 La Pausa (both contemporary reflections on No. 19), through the sparseness of No. 18 and on to the more complex 31 Rue Cambon* which in addition to iris also has the same patchouli theme as Coromandel. And the vetiver finally leads us Sycomore, the redeeming point in the collection.

Top notes: Pepper, Bergamot
Heart notes: Orris, Narcissus, Jasmine
Base notes: Patchouli, Ambrette, Vetiver, Labdanum

* Both No. 18 and 31 Rue Cambon being reflections of Bois des Iles

Sycomore

As you may remember, Les Exclusifs left my nose generally unimpressed and my wallet completely unaffected (except that, of course, I immediately bough the last parfum extrait of Bois des Îles upon learning this was the sacrifice for the new line). Even though all the 6 new scents were very well made from quality materials and nevertheless elegant – they left me cold and, well, disappointed. Mostly because most of the collection seemed to be elaborating on already-familiar-Chanel themes: the cool green iris scent (28 La Pausa, Bel Respiro – both reflecion of No. 19); the over-the-top oriental (Coromandel, a modern oriental with an obvious wink towards Coco from the 80’s); and finally - the sophisticated abstract woody: No. 18 and 31 Rue Cambon, both paying an homage to Bois des Îles but barely scrape the bottom of its feet in my opinion, but nevertheless are the only two that I found interesting so far. Until Sycomore came around.


Sycomore was love at first sniff. It encompasses everything that I wish was in a vetiver perfume but haven’t really smelled yet. I have to admit: for a moment I felt so comfortable I even thought I am smelling my own familiar and odd Vetiver Racinettes. . It is the first vetiver that I encounter that is nearly as complex and full bodied, dark and spicy, earthy and sweet as how I like this root to be. It has many of the lements I liked in Vetiver Tonka. It even has a nutty coffee note (which I really enoyed in Jo Malon’s Black Vetiver Café); and it has a lot of Haitian vetiver from what I can tell – which is my all-time favourite vetiver oil. I've been reaching for the Sycomore mini for a week now and enjoy it's versatility, easy-going nature and find that it is distinctive and perhaps even timeless. But perhaps more than anything else I'm surprised that is so unpretentious.

Sycomore is nutty, woody, earthy, sweet, clean, tart and complex like vetiver should be. It has whiffs of odd and familiar notes weaving in and out – mint, pepper, mastic, cypress, juniper and coffee. And the woodiness of vetiver is accentuated by other woody notes such as sandalwood. It truly captures the vastness of earth, nature, trees and woods.

More on Jacques Polge and Chanel

I recently came about a short interview with Jacques Polge on Icon magazine (fortunately it was short enough for me to read it in the store – the magazine costs 5 times the price of a “normal” magazine, looks like a paperback cover book, and contains mostly artistic-version photographs of products that look quite mundane on the shelf but very interesting in those photographs).

Though the interview was short, it was effective enough to intrigue me and make me try to look differently at the Les Exclusifs collection. Reading what the perfumer had to say made it all seem a little less pretentious. And why? Because his passion comes through. And being known to be a quiet person who prefers not to speak, I could see that the words, chosen carefully, were in fact meaningful.

Below are a few interesting points, which I don’t believe would have been found on any other cheaper magazine raving about Les Exclusifs and go on and on with the scripts about the utter class and luxury that the collection is trying to “sell” to us (AKA simple people who can only dream about a wardrobe comprised entirely of Chanel suits and little black dresses, but can only afford some of her creative juices). I’ll make it look like little trivia items that might shed a new light for you (as they did for me) on the perfumer that has been known lately more for trend-following creations such as Chance and Allure Sensuelle than for setting trends or maintaining traditions:

- Jacques Polge was the one who resurrected the Chanel classics from the oblivion of a lab formula book, and re-issued them in the late 70’s, as the “Rue Cambon” collection.
- Jacques Polge’s Egoiste was inspired by Bois des Îles, and was a male counterpoint to a scent that originally was an unusual feminine creation (a woody women’s perfume)
- The inspiration for No. 18 was not the giant pearls and gold jewelry in the Chanel jewelry boutique, but rather – the discovery of the ambrette seed note in Bois des Îles. Jacques Polge was so intrigued by this note he decided to dedicate an entire perfume to that precious note, and rightly so.

Well, I may not like the Les Exclusifs any more than I did before after reading the article, but I appreciate much more the inspiration and thought that went into them and they seem just a tad less pretentious now. Even if these are again neither "groundbreakers" nor “trendsetters”, they are in a sense “curators” of the glamour and artistry that was the domain of perfume and fashion back in the days when Chanel has initiated this successful reunion.

I searched in vein for a website for that magazine, to be able to prove to you it even exists, but I did come across this short film, also interviewing the in-house Chanel perfumer for the past 30 years or so, and I couldn’t’ agree more with what he said, as artsy as it may sound.

Bois des Îles

Bois des Isles, originally uploaded by Ayala Moriel.

She sits at the café. She just arrived from another era. She is not quite sure where she is, but she can recognize an urban heaven when she sees it. In her lacy gloved hand, she slowly lifts a lided paper coffee cup, and indulgently sips the warm elixir inside. Peacefully watching passers by as if completely unaware that she is the one who’s being watched. With her striking European chic outfits, complete with brimmed hat, carefully made-up brows and powdered face and dark lipstick her presence is enigmatic and foreign not only to her Asian features but also to the laid-back Pacific Northwest’ small-town mentality.

And just as her entrance into our lives was mysterious, so was her sudden disappearance one summer day. All I could gather was that I was not the only one sneaking curious gazes at her lacy brimmed hat and gloves, wondering if they might be covering some dreadful secret rather than evidence that she was indeed a time traveler… All I know is that she was not a hallucination of my dreams. Besides my success at capturing her image with my digital camera, I also found out that she disappeared on August 6th, 2007, and left behind a trail of mystery, including puzzled baristas who remembered her favourite drink was French Vanilla coffee – nothing fancy, just straight from the tap.

Perfume transcends the intangible mystery of time. And just like the presence of the mysterious time traveler, it enters our life suddenly and disappears without warning. Perhaps this was why when I saw her I smelled a phantom breath of Bois des Îles: a perfume that silently entered my consciousness and whose beauty I was unable to appreciate years ago because of its antiquated aldehydic moments and the vagueness of its intentions.

Years later, my reflections on Bois des Îles have been refined and clarity is starting to bring me more pleasure from this jus treasured within the crystal cut flacon. Without taking away from its mystery I can enjoy it and indulge in discerning the notes as they lazily dance on my skin. First come bergamot and aldehydes, which take some time to fade away. They are oily and bring to mind the somewhat uric aspect of sandalwood, and the somewhat sharp (at first) nuances of heady ylang ylang. As the aldehydic cloud settles, Bois des Îles becomes deliciously warm, with the spiciness of dry ginger and nutmeg. Sandalwood embraces the perfume throughout its evolution. Although there are floral notes in the heart (namely jasmine and rose), ylang ylang is the only one that truly stands out. The others are blended to complement the sandalwood and ylang ylang (smoothing and rounding its sharpness) and bridge from top to base and the crisp-woody notes of vetiver. And in the final movement choreographed on my skin, the sweetness of vanilla absolute, tonka and benzoin feels like a silky caress of soft lips and warm sand.

Top notes: Aldehydes, Bergamot, Ylang Ylang
Heart notes: Jasmine, Rose, Nutmeg, Ginger
Base notes: Sandalwood, Vetiver, Tonka, Vanilla, Benzoin

P.s. This review is for the pure parfum, which unfortunately is no longer available in the Chanel boutiques as the beautiful and elegant crystal flacon of this jus had to make room for the ridiculously gigantic Eaux of the Les Exclusifs. Let’s hope the executives at Chanel smarten up and bring it back. After all, the extraits are the best way to wear the Chanel classics.
P.s.s. Coffret of vintag Chanel flacons was taken from this auction.

Les Exclusifs de Chanel

Chanel Logo, originally uploaded by Ayala Moriel.

March 1st was a strange day. The city awoke to a thin veil of snow that gently melted in the sunrise. A few hours later, as I was walking to the Chanel boutique (this time before I went to the gym), the sky was sprinkling some indecisive flakes of snow that glittered in the vague sunlight.

The night before, I got invited to the boutique by Cathy Davis, the Beaute Analyste of the Chanel boutique in downtown Vancouver to come to the boutique and get a personal tour of Les Exclusifs before most Vancouverites (or perhaps tourists?) discover them.

While the rest of the world seemed to have been awaiting the arrival of Les Exclusifs with breathless anticipation, I maintained my cool. While most perfume bloggers managed to get samples or decants quite early and the so-called “olfactory grey market” of samples of decants was taking pre-orders months in advance, I found it quite easy to just wait till they fall in my lap. Was it the exaggerated buzz that turned me off? Perhaps that helped. But what really did the trick was the

A couple of weeks ago, I casually stopped at the Chanel boutique after one of my sessions at the YWCA gym (two blocks away on the same street), and asked when they are going to be in. They weren’t sure, so I left my card and forgot about it until I got the call last night. I asked Cathy if I could discreetly make modest samples of the fragrances when I arrive, so that I can properly review them on my blog, and she kindly agreed. And so the big day was today, and this time, to avoid feeling intimidated by the boutique’s formal and demanding atmosphere (a feeling that only a girl who grew up in a little village in the middle of nowhere can truly understand), I actually put a little more effort in my dress (which basically means that I covered my leggings and vintage-inspired tunic, which I was planning to use in the gym right after, with super-high leather boots, my usual-chic, all-purpose coat (you don't want to know where I got it...), and a matching handbag of contrasting black and white; Don’t you just love accessories? If it wasn’t for them I would be lost fashion wise...

While most of the cosmetics and fragrances are usually in the front of the boutique, right at the entrance, Les Exclusifs require you to go all the way in and be fully committed to the process. So I was glad I dressed up (a bit...). I remember a few years back, when I came in to inquire about Cuir de Russie, Gardenia and Bois des Isles that they were also stored in the back, almost as a piece that the shop was embarrassed to admit they carry, or perhaps something that requires some repair work before being presented to the public - in a dark storage cabinet. You had to know about them, ask for them and get helped in every step of the way of sampling and purchasing. Les Exclusifs now have a completely different presentation, the entire ten laid out as the Corinthian pillars in a Pantheon that will scare of the laymen, even the ones who shop Chanel - but delight and lure the perfumista at heart.

I tested all 10 scents (including the former Rue de Cambon ones int he Eaux de Toilette) on the little pre-named blotter cards (later to be inserted by Cathy into little matching envelopes), and received a miniature anthology of ad-copies for all the ten fragrances. The bottles, by the way, are all 200ml and are sold for the modest sum of $200.00 CAD (which is very close to the same amount in USD, because the Canadian dollar is mighty strong these days, yet imported products seem to disregard that obvious fact, and ask for a higher price here than in the United States). The bottles have an interesting magnet mechanism that makes the cap always close in a neat way, presenting the logo lined-up properly at all times, to avoid an untidy, sloppy impression no matter how clumsy the owner is. If it came with a Ginny who cleans your house for you and replaces you once the unavoidable request for a daily massage from the SO comes in - I wouldn't be surprised either...

This size is way to big for me for any fragrance really. 100ml is more than enough even for my most favourite scent in the world. When it comes to perfume, I like the philosophy of less is more. I adore the concept of flacons. In my opinion, these create a feeling of preciousness and appreciation for the juice, as if it is liquid gold or a rare piece of jewelry.

The following are my very preliminary impressions of the collection, and if you find my remarks to be too sarcastic or cynical, I will not be surprised, but I also hope that you won't be offended either. In another article my attitude to the subject matter will be explained and hopefully clarified. However, please keep in mind that my complaints are not necessarily directed at the house of Chanel or its house perfumers; it is really the current trend in perfumery that I am frustrated with. I can reassure you that I will expand and elaborate on this later, in a separate article.

No.18 was the one I was most curious to try. Like its premise, it is mostly ambrette seed, surprisingly very true to the real seed – not the absolute or the essential oil as we usually find them (which have a very subtle, musky-powdery skin-like odour), but rather, the un-crushed, unshelled seeds with an intense, penetrating musky aroma. This phase lasts only two hours, and than comes a very subtle skin-scent, slightly sweeter, almost berry-like actually, along the same lines as Mure et Musk and M7. This is the only scent that I am in the risk of spending money on in this collection. But sure enough, I’d rather spend the cash on buying two kilos of the seeds and tincture them myself, for the same price and I quite adore my own ambrette-seed infused perfumes, so I don’t anticipate the urge will be uncontrollable.

28 La Pausa, the orris scent, is quite lovely, but honestly – do we always have to have an iris scent in every exclusive/niche collection? Apparently, the answer is yes.

Eau de Cologne, a citrus cologne, obviously, which is said to be inspired by a discontinued Chanel cologne from 1929; As much as I like it, I think there are enough citrus colognes as there is, and for that price I could get a lifetime supply of 4711 which I admire but never wear anyways.

31 rue Cambon is suppose to be the revolutionary new chypre with no oakmoss. The result? A hybrid between Bois de Isles in the opening (sounds promising, right? wait and see!), but leading to a x3 the price but very similar scent variation on Opium Fleur de Shanghai. At least I found a substitute for that when I finish my 150ml remaning of this affordable gem, so if this scent (and me) will still be around by than, I might add it to my collection.

Coromandel, a modern oriental much in the vain of Prada and Allure Sensuelle, but one that I can stomach without gagging. If I happen to change my mind about it I will let you know. Promise.

Bel Respiro, a green floral in the same vein as No. 19 and Ivoire – only lighter. One may ask – why making something so similar to a scent already existing in the collection? My only guess: No. 19 is either going to be changed to the point we wont recognize it due to reformulation (it does have oakmoss, you know…), or it could be completely phased out. Another possibility is the simple lack of either confidence or imagination of the perfumers involved, making sure they have something similar to what they already have and is popular rather than taking risks.
Let me just remind you how No. 22 was available everywhere until the release of the somewhat similar Allure (white floral, anyone?). All of a sudden, you can only get No. 22 at the Chanel boutiques. I won't be surprised if No. 19 will receive a similar status of endangered species.

As if to make matter worse, I have to give you some bad news: Bois des Isles and Cuir de Russie will no longer be available in their Parfum Extrait (the 15ml that used to be available in the Chanel boutiques is now replaced by the gigantic eaux de toilettes dilutions of the re-launched bottles). Not in Canada anyways. Do you want to hear even worse news? The last bottle of Bois des Isles parfum is GONE. I snatched it before you would. Sorry...

These are very preliminary impressions – I have only skin-tested two of these today (No. 18 and 31 rue Cambon). The ones that deserve more attention in my opinion will be posted later as separate, stand-on-their-own reviews.

If you'd like to get a different angle on Les Exlusifs, I recommend you read the following reviews of the line in general (as opposed to specific, elaborate reviews you will find in some of the blogs). I took the liberty to divide them into "Yay" and "Nay" response (the "nayers" not necessarily thinking that they are awful, but expressing some kind of disappointment, criticism or under-impression from the line:

Yay:
Aromascope
Perfume Posse (Patty's favourite three)
Perfume Posse (March's reviews)
Perfume Posse (part 2)
Luca Turin in NZZ Folio
Perfume Smellin' Things

Nay:
Perfume Shrine
Victoria's Own
The Scented Salamander
Perfume Posse (Patty's not-so-favourite three)