Cologne Du 68 from Guerlain (Sophie Labbé; 2006)

The soundbites
If Cologne Du 68 were a song, it would be Generator (1st Floor) by Freelance Whales.
If it were an item of clothing, it would be your favourite smart-casual, white summer shirt.
If it were a painting, it would be Renoir's Bal Du Moulin De La Galette.

The review
After well over a year of threatening discontinuation, it looks as though the string-pullers at Guerlain have finally decided to cut their ties with an underestimated member of their troupe: Cologne Du 68, composed by Sophie Labbé. So before every single bottle disappears from the shelves, here's a quick shout out in its defence. Principally a juxtaposition of solar citruses with more decadent, sugary, ambery notes, it achieves that beaming, toss-of-the-hair, happy-chic nonchalance which so many scents with similar aspirations fail to deliver. Or, to put it in Guerlain-history terms, it bridges the gap between the lip-licking sensibilities of, say, L'Heure Bleue and the more effervescent, more daylight-focussed aesthetics of Eau De Guerlain or the Aqua Allegoria scents. With its feast of notes (68, to be precise), it creates a symphonic - and yet never overwrought - olfactory expression of a contented sigh, an exhalation of breath that marks the mental shift from the demands of the morning to the more relaxed mode of the evening. I've been fond of it since it was released and I shall be sorry to see its unforced charm leave the Guerlain line-up. Do try to find it while you still you can.

[Review based on a sample of eau de toilette obtained by the author in 2016]

Persolaise

Super Scent - The Very Best Of Chanel

Well, we couldn't put it off much longer. After having grappled with the sizeable portfolios of Dior and Lauder, Grant Osborne, the Candy Perfume Boy and I decided that there was no escape: we had to get to grips withChanel. As you can imagine, this wasn't exactly what you'd call an easy task. The brand which, by most accounts, pioneered the concept of linking couture with fragrance has been at the forefront of mainstream scent creation for almost a century and its current line-up boasts some undisputed classics of olafctory art. So yes, we had our work cut out for us.

As ever, a few treasured gems couldn't make it onto the top 5. I agonised for hours over whether to include Cristalle (still such a wonderfully verdant chypre) or Bel Respiro (which never fails to transport me to an endless Mediterranean vista) or Bois De Iles (that sandalwood! that rose! that elegance!) or No. 22 (the scent of the clouds against which angels brush their wings). And Madame Persolaise will probably never forgive me for not finding a space for one of her personal, all-time favourites, Coco. But rules are rules, and sacrifices had to be made.

Although, like all other companies, Chanel has no choice but to pay heed to commercial concerns, it has had more than its fair share of times when beauty and popularity have come together. On those occasions, it has managed to combine its couture ethos - the artistry, the forward-thinking, the attention to detail - with the skills of some inspired scent creators (always in-house!) to create a coherent, consistent olfactory vision, which, over the years, has come to represent the essence of 'Frenchness' in perfumery. And that, dear readers, is no mean feat. 

Don't forget to visit the Candy Perfume Boy and Basenotes for their Best Of Chanel lists. And, as per usual, please let me know what you think of my selection. Have I made any scandalous omissions?

Enjoy the list.

5. Coromandel (Jacques Polge & Christopher Sheldrake; 2007)

We tend not to associate Chanel with plush, gourmand sensibilities, but when they decide to do sweetness, they do it with heart-stopping, couture-like precision. Cue: Coromandel. Vivid, mouth-watering white chocolate. Sprinkles of snow-like, sugary benzoin. And a jump-into-bed-right-now dose of one of the most elegant patchoulis committed to a bottle. Prepare to be seduced.

4. Cuir De Russie (Ernest Beaux; 1924)

At this point in time, almost two decades into the 21st century, the assertive, predatory growl of birch tar continues to be invaluable to perfumers wishing to create leather scents. But one of the first attempts to showcase the ingredient remains one of the best: Beaux's masterful Cuir De Russie, as form-fitting, intimate and irreplaceable as a pair of tailor-made gloves. 

3. No. 19 (Henri Robert; 1971)
It says a great deal about Chanel's commitment to their fragrance portfolio that even though they don't sell many bottles of No. 19 any more, they continue to produce it and to ensure that its quality doesn't deteriorate. An arresting statement on crisp formality, it is still one of the finest green scents we have, mixing the unmistakable grass-and-bell-pepper convexity of galbanum with iris, musks and leather. A true original.

2. Antaeus (Jacques Polge; 1981)
Without any question one of the greatest men's scents of the last 50 years - if not of all time - Antaeus deserves praise because it features pec-pumping, masculine staples - patchouli, woods, leather - but it presents them with a softness and a sweetness in keeping with the guy-dentity changes which took place from the 80s onwards. What's even more remarkable is that, despite shifting tastes and fashions, it has managed to remain bold, distinctive and wholly wearable.

1. No. 5 (Ernest Beaux; 1921)
As time passes, it becomes increasingly difficult to say anything new about Le Monstre. Lizzie Ostrom cast a commendably fresh light on this most famous of creations in her Century Of Scents, but generally, the prose devoted to Chanel's flagship fragrance focuses on the aldehydes, the bottle, the name, the adverts, Marilyn etc etc. However, whilst preparing this list, I was struck by how many people told me that they don't like No. 5. Personally, I still cannot stop my knees from turning to jelly each time I smell it - even after all these years - but so many discerning scentusiasts have told me that it gives them a headache or they find it too powdery or they think it's terribly cliched. So maybe, one of the reasons No. 5 has retained its classic, must-try status for almost a hundred years - apart from the fact that many of us consider it to be olfactory perfection - is that, like so many uber-successful perfumes, it is actually quite polarising. I happen to adore everything about it - the velvety sparkle, the well-cut sophistication, the ability to drown out the distractions of the world - and I suspect that, for me, it will always remain the absolute essence of the very best of Chanel.

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Note: As per our Super Scent rules, the above list was chosen from Chanel's current line-up and current formulations; discontinued scents weren't considered; it was left to each other author to decide about making distinctions between eau de toilette, eau de parfum, extrait etc. Here's the current portfolio, according to our reckoning: 1932; 28 La Pausa; 31 Rue Cambon; Allure; Allure Homme; Allure Homme Edition Blanche; Allure Homme Sport; Allure Homme Sport Eau Extreme; Allure Sensuelle; Antaeus; Beige; Bel Respiro; Bleu; Bois Des Iles; Chance; Chance Eau Fraiche; Chance Eau Tendre; Chance Eau Vive; Coco; Coco Mademoiselle; Coco Noir; Coromandel; Cristalle; Cristalle Eau Verte; Cuir De Russie; Eau De Cologne; Egoiste; Gardenia; Jersey; Misia; No. 18; No. 19; No. 19 Poudré; No. 22; No. 5; No. 5 Eau Premiere; Platinum Egoiste; Pour Monsieur; Sycomore. At the time of writing, the new Boy has not been released in the UK.

Persolaise

Persolaise Review: Bottega Veneta Pour Homme Essence Aromatique (Amandine Marie; 2016)

Where's the line between old-school masculines which are too... well... old-school and those which don't feel out of place in a contemporary setting? Is it somewhere near notions of transparency: do we now read 'opaque' as 'dated'? Or is it connected with legibility: do we require modern creations to present their constituents in lucid, easily-comprehensible layers? Wherever the boundary lies, I'd say Amandine Marie has found it in this latest addition to the solid Bottega Veneta range. A flanker of sorts to 2013's Pour Homme, this Essence Aromatique takes a simple accord - patchouli and pine - bolsters it with a thigh-slapping, vetivert-heavy leather, and then lightens it with a dew-laden, woodland breeze to create an endearing 'nouveau cologne'. It's diffusive and long-lasting, but it's also as weightless as a sliver of lemon zest floating on the surface of Lake Como. By the way, in case you didn't know, 2 years ago, BV also gave us an Essence Aromatique rendition of their signature women's perfume. A subtle 'skin scent', it places citrus and floral notes beneath a layer of gauze through which you can just discern the shape of full lips and alabaster cheekbones. Well worth checking out.

[Review based on a sample of eau de cologne provided by Bottega Veneta in 2016.]

Persolaise

Persolaise Review: Peau De Bête from Liquides Imaginaires (Karine Bouin; 2015)

When Karine Bouin's Peau De Bête pounced on us last year, it elicited a fair number of gasps, with several writers stating they were overwhelmed by its scandalous dosage of animalic notes. As is often the way, the hype led to disappointment in some quarters, because leather-lovers hoping for the ne plus ultra of barnyard orgies - in other words, scentusiasts with considerable experience of the sweatier end of the olfactory spectrum - soon realised that this isn't the hoof-stomping, nostril-flaring Minotaur some would have us believe. But that shouldn't be held against the creative forces at Liquides Imaginaires. After all, with the name they've chosen, they've given us a clear indication of how this scent ought to be read: it's not just about the beast, but about skin as well. So yes, there's no denying that bodily, near-scatological odours form the sinuous backbone of this fragrance's composition: you can't use substantial quantities of cumin, cloves and leather materials - made transparent through the use of cedar and citrus notes - without evoking steaming flesh. But it's the nature of the fabric covering the backbone - the texture of the perfume - that's far more compelling. Situated somewhere between velvet, suede and angora, it envelops the wearer like a hybrid epidermis, sleek and inscrutable, yet concealing a deep-rooted core of heat. Last year's Alaïa scent played the skin-hugging card, but it lacked sufficient personality to be distinctive. Papillon's Salomé dished up some gorgeous dirt, but didn't know when to pull back. And Frederic Malle's new Monsieur. opted for riot-causing levels of testosterone, but then forgot about the need to be beautiful. Somehow,Peau De Bête succeeds where all three of those scents fall short, and it does so without ever raising the volume of its growl. 

[Review based on a sample of 'eau de peau' provided by Liquides Imaginaires in 2015.]

Persolaise