The Italian Job: L'Erbolario Méharées review

Bologna ~ Source: Gaspa via Wikimedia Commons 

Right, so my last post was all about taking stock of my SABLE (Stash Above & Beyond Life Expectancy) and taking active hypothetical steps to cut it back to a more manageable / less haunting quorum of some 30 bottles.  That was on the Friday. On Sunday, I received this text message from my Lush Flower's Barrow-wearing friend Jane, who does the merchandise for my favourite band - who happened to be playing in Bologna last weekend:

"I remember you saying about buying you some perfume here.  We've just walked past an open perfumerie and I wondered what you wanted?"

Which prompted the following shaming exchange:

"Oh, I say.  It was a specific brand called L'Erbolario, and the scent is Méharées.  Will try to find more info - there is a dedicated L'Erbolario shop in the centre..."

"If you can find its address I'll look.  It isn't the one we just passed."

Source: Fragrantica

Thirteen texts later, I was trying to steer my GPS-less friends towards the L'Erbolario store like some kind of rudimentary air traffic controller:

"Okay, if you have a square, Piazza Roosevelt is the right hand side, Cesare Battisti is the left hand side and Via Ugo Bassi is the top side - does that help?  So if you are heading north on Cesare wotsit turn right when you hit Ugo Bassi and it is a couple of doors down.  Or ask someone? 'Dove Via Ugo Bassi per favore?'"

(Reader, don't try those directions - or that Italian - at home.  I mean abroad.  I sent my friend and her husband round what could euphemistically be termed 'the long way', however, they were very sporting about it, explaining much later in an email that if I hadn't made them go round the houses they would have missed some splendid architecture and that all-important tourist attraction of a public convenience.  So all's well that ends well.)

There was a disconcertingly long pause after the text with all the directions, but I knew there must have been an orienteering breakthrough when I received this tantalising query:

"Is it the 50ml perfume?"

Quickly followed by:

"Done.  21.5 euros and it was all so lovely I have bought a Patchouly for myself. : D"

Jane's husband in triumphant pose outside the store

Well, that was a turn up for the books, as my friend is vegan and a Lush / Gorilla loyalist.

Anyway....without further ado I will have to explain myself, won't I? - what on earth was I doing making a purchase of a full bottle - even by proxy - when just two days previously I had compiled a list of my desert island collection of perfumes...on which L'Erbolario Méharées was conspicuously absent.  In my defence, I did think of including it, but Annick Goutal's Musc Nomade pipped it to the one and only 'cosy or naughty musk' spot.

So the only way that I can square this latest full bottle acquisition with my conscience is that it was:

a) cheap
b) purchased in fulfilment of a prior request - you know, like a will you forgot to revoke.  Sure I could have said: 'No, thank you, I am really not bothered anymore' when Jane texted me in the first place, but that would have felt churlish somehow, as she was over there, in situ, and all primed to do this errand for me.
c) I did say I would reserve the right to change my mind, so I will hereby effect a straight swap with Musc Nomade, to keep the numbers square.
d) I am allowed to be a bit bonkers - on any front, really.

Reprising a) for a moment, 21.50 euros is ludicrously cheap for a scent that is in fact a very creditable dupe of Frédéric Malle's Musc Ravageur.  I was first introduced to Méharées by Odiferess when we met up in Manchester last November - she gave me a sample and some moisturiser infused with the scent that she had knocked up herself using a neutral base cream! Champney's eat your heart out. ;)  Odiferess positioned Méharées to me as a Musc Ravageur copy, and the likeness is telling - for a fraction of the price.  (About a fifth, based on a 50ml bottle.  Just checked Liberty's site and it is retailing for £105 there.) The resemblance also caused quite a stir on the Basenotes men's forum - and they don't take any prisoners as we know.

My Méharées starter kit from Odiferess

Here are the notes for Musc Ravageur:

Top notes: lavender, bergamot
Middle notes: clove, cinnamon
Base notes: gaiac wood, cedar, sandalwood, vanilla, tonka, musk

All we can glean about Méharées is that it features myrrh and sweet date.  It does have a fruity aspect, certainly, and a distinctly spicy kick to it, though I would be hard pushed to name names.

The best way I could describe the difference between the two is to say that Méharées is slightly lighter, cleaner and more vanillic, whereas Musc Ravageur has more oomph - more of an animalic undercurrent to it - but the resemblance is still very marked.  Méharées is at the cleaner end of what a friend of mine would perhaps term 'rude business' musks, but rude it remains.  This scenario is qualitatively comparable to Lidl's Suddenly Madame Glamour as a cheapo copy of Chanel Coco Mademoiselle.  The Lidl perfume doesn't have the same patchouli-centred depth and heft to it as Coco Mademoiselle, but the scent itself is eerily close.  Yes, for those of you familiar with the Lidl copies of mainstream fragrances, just imagine that if Lidl brought out a me-too of Musc Ravageur called 'Suddenly Seduction' (because the titles are never too obvious), it would be very much in Méharées vein.  They just couldn't afford as much of the raunch factor maybe, whatever musk molecule that might be.  And that may even suit some people.

Source: osmoz.com

I also tested Méharées against Les Parfums du Soleil's Soir de Marrakech.  My own mini-reviews of the latter (here and here) - some four years ago when I had a limited frame of reference - liken this one to PG L'Ombre Fauve and Tauer's LADDM. To me now, Soir de Marrakech is more vanillic and gourmand, with a dark fruity twist that could also be from dates, though I see none listed.  I now actually feel it is firmly in our Musc Ravageur territory, but with an amber/patch/vanilla undercurrent that does still evoke for me a more delicate interpretation of the barnyard earthiness of L'Ombre Fauve..

Source: darmima.be

For Odiferess's (considerably more deconstructed!) take on Méharées, hop over to her review.  She is also reminded of Chopard Casmir, which I can definitely relate to 'atmospherically', though I find Casmir too plasticky for my taste.  Méharées is in another quality league, I'd say, which is all the more remarkable at this price point. Unfortunately the shipping, even within the EU, adds about 50% to the bottle price, so the best way to bag this bargain scent is clearly to take advantage of a friend passing through Italy...;)

Oh, and you can tell how much I like this perfume, because I could be bothered to put both its acute accents in. And lately I have found accent insertion far too tedious, and have been gradually phasing them out and hoping nobody would notice.


PS I should also mention that I am off tomorrow for a week, attending some gigs in Germany, and hopefully doing some high end sniffing in Berlin, where I will have the most free time.  I am not selling the merchandise on the tour this year - my friends have assumed that role on a more or less permanent basis - but the job of part-time BlueTack removal operative (from the sample posters) is always open to me, plus I may be called upon to do a bit of ad hoc interpreting and translation. ;)

Talk By Pierre Guillaume At Les Senteurs: Learning The Specifics Of Parfumerie Générale - Part 1

Pierre Guillaume and I have the same iPhone. No really, we do - we both have the white one - I mean, what are the chances of that? : - ) The other impressive thing about Pierre Guillaume's iPhone is that it doesn't have a cover! Yes, his phone goes "commando" and lives tucked in the inside pocket of his jacket. I find that remarkable - I wouldn't liken it exactly to jumping out of a plane without a parachute, which would suggest a reckless disregard for safety - rather, I think his coverless phone simply tells us that he takes great care of it, and I for one was impressed.

The talk at Les Senteurs' new store in Seymour Place was scheduled for 6.30pm last Thursday. I had arranged to meet Katie Puckrik earlier that afternoon, an unseasonably warm one that she had clearly brought over from LA with her, one-woman-catalyst for climate change that she is. I almost regretted wearing my "good coat", but figured it might get chilly later, and that I might need recourse to its sample-scoring powers at the Burberry Beauty counter in Harrods the following day (I never made it).

LISSON GROVE

I caught up with Katie in her former stomping ground in north London, where she lived for 16 years till the late 90s. We poked around some vintage clothes and antique shops and ambled through a street market, when our noses simultaneously detected the unmistakable scent of oud - burning oud, we reckoned. Try as we might, we couldn't locate the origin of this beguiling incense smell. The finger of suspicion was briefly pointed at the gaping mouth of a stuffed toy donkey and the golden cupola of a pink mosque-shaped clock, but neither of these items turned out to be the covert incense burner of my imaginings.

The next port of call was a large antiques market, where Katie's eye was drawn to vintage jewellery and lampshades, while I "fondled and replaced" some 30s gin glasses and cast longing looks at any artefact shaped like a pineapple (of which there were a surprising number - none of them portable or in my price range).

Before heading to the talk we had a sit down supper of fish and chips in a nearby diner, that had been considerably gentrified since Katie's last visit. The designer vinegar bottle had an Alessi look about it, the ketchup came in a white ramekin with a spoon, and the mushy peas had clearly never seen the inside of a can. Even Katie's cod had a jaunty flicky up tail to it, but it may just have been of athletic build.

LISSOM NOSE

At Les Senteurs, after drinks and general milling around ("circulation générale"?), we were ushered downstairs to a white basement area with seating for about 20-30. I had no idea there was a downstairs to Les Senteurs! Pierre Guillaume was already standing in position by a table on which was displayed the Huitième Art range, the opaque white ceramic bottles perfectly coordinating with the décor.

So how good looking is he in person, then?

Answer - very. However, his striking good looks are actually more approachable than I expected from the posed studio portraits you see of him on blogs. He looks like the most handsome boy in your class at school rather than Gillette Man or that supermodel in the boat in the D & G Light Blue ad.

And how charming is he on the charming-o-meter?

Comfortably off the scale, I would say. His strong French accent and occasional quaint turns of phrase or pronunciation (for example, "cooker" for "chef", "peer" for "pear", and "hurt" for "heart") only served to endear him further to his audience.

"Talkative" vs "stable & linear" scents

Pierre Guillaume (whose name - along with that of his company - I will henceforth shorten to PG except for specific punning references that may follow) started off by explaining the difference in conception behind the main PG range and the newer Huitième Art scents. He described the former as "talkative", because they tell a story, they evoke particular scent associations and memories in people's minds (with a picture, a face, a work of art etc); he drew an analogy with Proust's Madeleine episode in the novel "A La Recherche du Temps Perdu". In other words everyone's associations will be different.

By contrast, the Huitième Art range is more "stable" and "regular" - these are scents that can be enjoyed because they smell nice, basically. They are linear, but in a good way ie they do not have a shorter formulation just because their appeal is more straightforward. PG also likened the Huitième Art range to "classical plates of the menu" like Boeuf Bourgignon, as opposed to more avant-garde concoctions such as - he plucked a random example out of the air - "Fish & Licorice". Just as a good chef is judged by how well they can make these classic dishes, so PG invites scrutiny of his artistry in these less complicated compositions.

Capturing the "non-talkative" notes

But while the Huitième range may not be "talkative" in its conception ie linked to memory as such, it does have the special characteristic of exceptionally realistic notes: for example the pear note in Ciel d'Airain, the dewy blackcurrant note in Aube Pashmina, or the immortelle note in Fareb. (Scent strips were passed around to illustrate all the perfumes discussed.)

To take the case of Ciel d'Airain, its pear note was created by a combination of conventional aromachemicals and a very natural realistic extraction (created using phyto-perfumery technology) which casts a "natural shadow" over the chemicals. It was supplied by a company called Greentech, and rejoices in the jolly name of a "Fruitogreen".

(NB I couldn't help thinking that Pierre Guillaume's own name is pearilously close to "Poire Guillaume" or Williams Pear).

Whimsical titles

FAREB: we learnt that the name Fareb is in fact an acronym (in French at least): F for "fresh", A for "aromatic", R for "resinous", E for "spicy" and B for "woody". We all had a chuckle at this.

NAIVIRIS: "You are naive to think it is just about iris." For the iris used in this scent is in fact African red orris from the fruit of the kigelia africans tree: "it is an olfactory molecule from the skin of the fruit - like orris, but with spicy as a bonus". This offbeat iris note is combined with zebra wood, which has woody and animalic facets.

Whimsical images and chimeras

Moving on to the latest release, Myrrhiad, PG likened its heart accord to two lovers: a relatively new ingredient from Robertet - a complex "discoloured tea note absolute" - and myrrh. Together they are entwined on a bed of two vanillas, surrounded by a mist - or perhaps a canopy - of licorice. Interestingly, the licorice note is not actually in the composition, but is an olfactory impression or chimera that arises naturally during the scent's development. Another example PG gave us was the illusory note of "banana wood" in Felanilla, due to the fruity aspect of one of the saffron ingredients, Ethyl Safranate.

A "Polywood blockbuster": the new Huitième Art release

We were also given an advance preview - or presniff - of "Polywood", the code name for the upcoming addition to the Huitième Art line. It showcases no fewer than EIGHT different woody notes: four regular ones and four new ones. I asked PG if any perfumer had ever put more woody notes in a scent than this latest launch, and he said he couldn't say for sure, but thought he might be the first to use poplar wood absolute at least. The full cast list of this "Polywood blockbuster" is as follows:

cedar
vetiver
patchouli
sandalwood
poplar absolute
papyrus wood (aka nagamota oil)
incense wood (cedar wood oil + olibanum = "bois d'incens")
oakmoss absolute

Pierre Guillaume's favourite musk

Mangue Métisse, which includes notes of frangipani, tea and the white part of the bark of a mango tree, and which PG likened to an "exotic flower with exotic sugar inside", also contains a macrocyclic musk similar to the one used to great effect in Narciso Rodriguez for Her. Egyptian in origin, PG described it as "velvety smooth, linear and powerful", and declared it to be his favourite musk. (It also features in Sucre d'Ebène.) While we are on this subject, my favourite quote of the night, although I cannot remember the exact context (who needs context?) is: "I had not any more musks in my organ."

The incredible Coze licking demonstration

I was so stunned at the sight of PG spraying Coze on his wrist and licking it off again, that as with the musk quote, I have completely forgotten what that was all about. I jotted down his instructions: "Do it quickly, with a dry tongue", and the fact that it tasted a bit like wine (I think), but the original objective behind the demonstration - other than to raise the blood pressure of 110% of the audience at a conservative guess - escapes me. So if Bee or Katie or anyone else who attended the talk could explain the scientific principle behind this supremely sensual stunt, that would be great!

To be continued in Part 2...



Photos of a kigelia africana fruit tree and a chimera via Wikimedia Commons, photo of clock from simplyislam.com, photo of Alfie's market from anothermag.com, other photos my own