The 'Careful Whispers' series: No 3 - Tauer Perfumes Cologne du Maghreb review

Source: tauerperfumes.com

Before anyone mentions it, I am as surprised as the next person to be featuring a Tauer perfume in my 'Careful Whispers' series. As with 'first generation' Mona di Orios, I didn't really get on with the early releases from the line - or maybe, at that neophyte stage of my perfume j*****y, my nose was too easily overwhelmed by the robust style of scent Andy Tauer tended to favour then.  The stellar exception to that being L'Air du Désert Marocain, a haunting dusty-spicy-woody rose number I love so much I am prepared to go through the faff of giving it its proper accent.  And though LADDM is also potent, it is utterly mesmeric once it has worn on the skin for a while. But otherwise, back in those early days I continued to have issues with the bristly 'Tauerade' base, metallic notes generally (Zeta and the galvanised lily that is Carillon pour un Ange, which I do still like), and latterly also soap (Orange Star).

The release of Tableau de Parfums Miriam and Noontide Petals marked a definite turning point in my appreciation of Andy Tauer's work, most probably because these scents are in a quieter register.  The aldehydic notes in both were playful and ticklish, while the soapy aspect of Noontide Petals was eclipsed ultimately by the tang of ylang-ylang and the radiant glow of other white florals.  Now I know I haven't mentioned PHI Une Rose de Kandahar on Bonkers yet, but I made its acquaintance earlier this year thanks to a sample from Val the Cookie Queen, and was instantly smitten.  In PHI Une Rose de Kandahar the nuzzling fizz of the aldehydes is accompanied by a photorealistic rose note of such rarity that fans of the scent will have to wait till the autumn for production to be resumed when that particular material is available again. PHI might well be my first full bottle purchase of a Tauer Perfume, which is testament to how far my taste has come - or to how far Andy Tauer's work happens to have veered up my congenially wispy alley!

PHI Une Rose de Kandahar ~ Source: fragrantica.com

And so to Cologne du Maghreb.  An email from Jeffrey Dame, CEO of Hypoluxe, who distributes Tauer Perfumes in the USA, landed in my inbox the other day.  He inquired whether I wished to sample Cologne du Maghreb, which - as I have just learnt - is a relaunch of a limited edition scent from 2011.  If so, he would arrange for Andy to mail it out directly.  Well, given the intensity of my attachment to PHI, I was indeed curious to try this unisex summer scent, and within what felt like a blink of an eye the package was here, accompanied by a handwritten card - thanks, both!

Well, off the bat I would like to say is how impressed I was with the thin flat box the sample came in - a perfect example of 'packaging commensurate to the size of its contents', which is what I like to see.  A complete absence of ostentatious boxes, plinths, huge slabs of foam or extravagantly padded envelopes.

Next up, I thought to google Maghreb, as I felt I should clarify the geographical frame of reference for this latest addition to the Tauer stable.  Well, it appears to be a region of North West Africa comprising Libya, Morocco, Algeria, Tunisia and Mauritania.  Mauritania?  Why, I thought that was a ship!  

So the first thing I should say about Cologne du Maghreb - or rather, I will let Andy Tauer say it - is that it is an 'all-natural, all-botanical fragrance, a traditional cologne, light and not made to last'.

A fulfilment operative at Tauer Towers

I completely concur with that - and it is such a startling aspect of a Tauer scent - yet it is a fact that Cologne du Maghreb is noticeably fleeting on me.  Or to be exact, after the stunningly bright, herbaceous opening - which reminds me very much of Guerlain Sous le Vent and also a little bit of the top notes of Mito EDP - Cologne du Maghreb quickly subsides into a very soft, ambery-vetivery hum covered in a light dusting of sherbet. There is rose in there I see, but I can't say I can pick it out, not that that means anything, for my nose is a blunt instrument at the best of times. Texturally, I'd describe the opening as granular - not in the bullshit bingo sense of 'granular', meaning 'detailed' or 'drilled down' (eep!) - but  in the sense of actual granules pinging off your nasal receptors, like finely crushed ice.

I tested Cologne du Maghreb before learning about its all-botanical composition, but I can well believe that now.   It was hyper-zesty, pleasantly tart without being acerbic.  The herbal facet was nicely under control, and didn't tip the composition into more fougere-y or other astringent male territory.  The citrus bouquet was sooo realistic that it was like sniffing a brace of neat aromatherapy oils simultaneously from the bottle. Or crushing the rinds of oranges and lemons in a pestle and releasing the sticky oil from the peel. (I used to work in the juice industry, would you believe, though even in 1985 we were a mite more automated in our juice extraction processes - on the one product not wholly made from concentrate, that is. ; -) ) Then conversely to the rose, I thought I picked up on petitgrain, but I see none listed.  No matter - it was a bracing, refreshing hit like nothing else I have tried in the cologne genre, quite possibly because of its all-natural provenance.

Source: guerlain.com

In terms of the rationale / inspiration for Cologne du Maghreb - I refuse to say backstory, not even as two words - Andy Tauer wished to combine traditional cologne-making techniques with an oriental twist. Though, as he is careful to point out on his blog, not the sort of twist that involves 'synthetic oudh and cheap metallic damascenone'.  No, we are talking lemon groves in Marrakech, cedar trees in Algeria's Atlas mountains, and rock roses in scrubby terrain pretty much anywhere in the region.

Notes: citrus accord, cistus, ambreine, cedarwood, Java vetiver oil, bergamot, lemon, neroli, orange blossom, lavender, rosemary, rose absolute, rose essential oil, clary sage

I really like Cologne due Maghreb, and the fact that you would have to reapply it quite often - not least to enjoy the revivifying rush of the opening again and again - would not bother me.  Hey, I am always looking for ways to use up more perfume, and extreme tenacity is not necessarily a virtue in my book.  Given how I struggled with the likes of Lonestar Memories, I feared it might be too butch, notwithstanding the unisex billing, but it really does sit smack in the middle of the gender divide (for anyone who believes there is such a thing, as I guess I still do).  And readers mourning the recently discontinued Sous le Vent might be reassured to know that there is a worthy - if whisper quiet - substitute on offer.

And and in case you are curious, and not already familiar with its topography, here is a photo of Mauritania!

Source: wikipedia.org

And here is the ship in question, which has a slightly different spelling after all, as Wikipedia put me straight: 'The ship's name was taken from Mauretania, an ancient Roman province on the northwest African coast, not the Modern Mauritania which is now to the south.'

But best of all, this very ship was renamed HMS Tuberose for a year...  I don't make this stuff up, you know...!

RMS Mauretania ~ Source: wikipedia.org

Penhaligon's Juniper Sling: Thirst Aid For The Roaring Twenties - Or Hotter!

I like a drop of gin. Several drops indeed. Okay, one of those little 40ml metal measuring cup things is my usual portion. Yes, it is mother's milk to me since you are asking, though to my knowledge I have never been known to reek of the stuff. I take gin with lime for preference, though limes shrivel sooner than lemons, I find. Whatever citrus fruit I go for, I always wipe a few cells around the rim of the glass as a finishing touch. "Cells" being a technical term (that doesn't get out nearly enough) for the actual little fibrous globules of fruit.

I also drink Pimm's (another gin-based drink) very happily, though it is more labour-intensive with all that fruit chopping and dashing out to the garden to see if you have any mint, and the only other hard liquor I like is vodka. Well, "like" is overstating it, for what's to like in this most self-effacing and chameleon-like of spirits? No, gin is best, because it has a definite flinty taste of its own. Not unlike the measuring receptacle indeed.

If you are in any doubt about my penchant for gin, here is a statement of personal interests I posted in an Internet forum:

"Messing about on computers (obviously), trashy TV, improving fiction, gym, swimming, writing postcards, drinking gin."

The only thing that has changed there is the sports bit, which I have let lapse, plus I don't really read much improving fiction these days. But to my credit I have conscientiously kept up the gin drinking!

So when the nice people at Penhaligon's announced the launch of Juniper Sling:

"a playful, chilled and mysterious homage to the Bright Young Things of London’s roaring twenties..."

...I was very excited. I think Rose Beyond The Thames's review was the first one I read, right after she attended the launch back in July. Then in August Penhaligon's sent me a decant in a cute little Travalo (of which more later) just as I was leaving for my third trip of the summer to Central Europe; I wore it often over several weeks in the sweltering 35 C heatwave.

In finally getting down to reviewing Juniper Sling I am so late to the party (or "shindig", rather), that not only has everybody gone home, but someone has already painstakingly picked up the discarded cocktail parasols and hoovered up the canapé crumbs. I have to question whether the blogosphere really needs another review, as I did with Nuit de Tubéreuse that time. However, I will stick by my rule, which is that if I love a fragrance, no matter how many other reviews may have gone before me, I will add my own two pennyworth.

Because I do really love Juniper Sling. So much so that I tried to get my brother to let me buy him a bottle for his birthday at the weekend, with the aim of blagging a 5ml decant when I have finished my own samples, but sadly he didn't care for it. It is possibly too light for a man, granted. Partly in staying power (in the conditions in which I wore it, certainly), but also in style. If Chanel's classic cologne were a soprano, Juniper Sling would be a falsetto. Not an ear-piercing one (thought I think the opening of Voyage d'Hermès is that), but Charlotte Church singing Pie Jesu, say.

Juniper Sling belongs to my category of "prickly citrus fragrances" - "pétillant", as the French say - initially at least. Just like tonic water, frankly. It is also very, very cold, again like tonic water - assuming you remembered to put a few tins of Schweppes in the fridge first and also to freeze the ice cubes. So it has a foot in the "cryogenic perfume" camp too, along with other physically cooling scents like Chanel's La Pausa, Ava Luxe No 23 and L'Artisan's Timbuktu.

I was going to call this post: "My Go-To 'Oh My Gosh It Is So Incredibly Hot' Scent", but it seemed like even more of a mouthful than my usual titles, so I thought better of it. And there is also a parallel with Wimbledon I'd like to mention, namely with the incomparable thirst quencher that is Robinson's Barley Water. And just as tennis players need to repeatedly knock back pints of this iconic lemon squash, so I found myself frequently reapplying Juniper Sling in August. Every time the juice hit my skin, it was instantly and wonderfully cooling. As I said in a tweet somewhere from my travels, this stuff should be available on prescription - for headaches and general heat-induced malaise! It is the scent equivalent of 4Head, which is my constant companion and deserves a post in its own right sometime.

Without further ado, here are the notes:

Head Notes: Cinnamon, Orange Brandy, Angelica, Juniper Berry

Heart Notes: Cardamom, Leather, Black Pepper, Orris Wood

Base Notes: Brown Sugar, Black Cherry, Vetiver, Ambrox

I should explain that the icy opening is not really created by classic citrus notes as such, but more a mix of angelica, juniper and shedloads of pepper, which is fine by me. I also love the powdery iris heart and the gourmand notes in the drydown (Olivier Cresp was the nose behind Angel, so you would expect nothing less).

It was inspired of Cresp to team up this cooling tingling cologne with a warmer base, for it could have ended up a bit thin and one-dimensional, which is the beef I have with Voyage d'Hermès, sadly. The lime note there is also too sharp, but I do see similarities in "vibe" with Juniper Sling, not least the cool metallic bottle. Which neatly takes us back to our gin measuring cup - or jigger, as I believe it is properly known.

Now here's a funny thing...I have just reapplied Juniper Sling today, and the weather is downright wintry outside, some 20 degrees cooler than when I last wore it. I still get that cold gin-like blast in the opening, but it warms up much quicker and I am already at the muzzy iris and leather stage after a minute or two. Which is perfect for the prevailing conditions.

So is Juniper Sling also an "intelligent" perfume, like those windscreen wipers that come on automatically or washing machines that instinctively detect a small load? Does this perfume sense the ambient temperature and bypass the chilly stage to suit our suddenly dreary British weather?

In the time it has taken me to type the paragraph above, I have moved on to a phase that is boozy and liqueur-like. Not too sickly, mind, possibly thanks to the vetiver or the cool woody undertow of the ambroxan. All the facets of this scent are enjoyable in fact, and it is squarely in my "understated" camp, which is why I love it so much.

I shall be wearing Juniper Sling tonight and enjoying my usual G & T. I might just push the boat out with a small bowl of Twiglets and watch a bit of the Jackson trial on Sky News. Why, that almost qualifies as a little shindig of my own!



Below is Rose Beyond The Thames's review (complete with luscious photos), and some other reviews I have enjoyed over the summer.

Rose Beyond The Thames

Perfume Shrine

Nick's review - my evil gin twin!

G & T and That

The Candy Perfume Boy

Finally, though I am not very good at embedding things, here is a link to the Penhaligon's site and its whimsical promotional "mockumentary" for the scent:

Penhaligon's video


Photo of gin jigger from bargizmos.co.uk, roaring twenties poster from awesomedna.com, photo of G & T from cocktailtimes.com, photo of Robinson's Barley Water from google images, pack shot from Penhaligon's, photo of Hendrick's gin from theprodigalguide.com, other photos my own.