Few taboos are more persistent in commercial perfumery than the admission that a fine fragrance is composed solely from materials of a synthetic source, i.e., man-made, instead of weaned from nature. The opposite direction is increasingly hailed as a Renaissance of perfumery, but as I have often voiced myself, it's sometimes given a holier-than-thou spin in the media that does the creators of all-natural perfumes a disservice.
Perfume, and the aesthetic pleasure derived from it, should not be based on the supposed aversion of risk or harm, much like a sensual escapade should probably not begin with the claim that it will produce hygienic benefits. Rather indulging in the pure pleasure should come with the promise of appreciating things for what they are, taking hedonism into fold and savoring it. All-natural perfumers have long held that their choice is an aesthetic choice and I respect them for it. In the same regard I have respect for the projects and perfumers which admit that exploiting solely synthesized molecules can present its own beautiful change, a bet on aesthetic terms.
The fact that the latter is less well received, in theory at least, if Molecule 01's tremendous cult status is any indication, is purely testament to our apprehension of the shattering of perfumery's one century's schtick; namely, that perfume is so powerful because it artfully taps on the magical qualities of nature.
Mathilde Laurent, the ISIPCA trained perfumer responsible for some of the most respected modern Guerlain perfumes (even when non officially credited) when she was training under Jean-Paul Guerlain and before the advent of Thierry Wasser, is a creative talent that has shone in her own right. She has never been shy about marking her creations with her unique flair, her patte as the French say. From the inspired patchoulisation of grapefruit in Pamplelune to Shalimar Legere, all the way to the elusive but gorgeous brandy stewy prunes and violets of Attrape Coeur (formerly Guet Apens). Her delegation to Cartier has been successful: witness Baiser Volé (2011), her two flankers for Declaration, and La Panthère (2014) the latter which I had glowingly reviewed, as it was such a hard task making it on a par with the vintage while at the same time offering a new, modern take.
Les Heures de Cartier, a "boutique exclusive " line, prestigiously presented at 5 Rue de la Paix, in Paris, has explored unexplored avenues such as the horsey-smelling, challenging La Treizième Heure and L'Heure Mystérieuse, ever since its conception in 2005 when Laurent joined Cartier. The latest addition, L'Heure Perdue (really La Onzième Heure, i.e. the Eleventh Hour although the chronological sequence in the launches marks it as the 14th release) comes as a perfumephile cipher.
Although careful readers will be doubting by now the claim of non-gourmand notes since they see vanillin in the molecules used, suffice it to say that it takes an aldehydic touch reminiscent not of baked cookies and homely pleasures of kitchen and bath, but of white bubbles of refractive light that smell oddly familiar despite their un-contextualized look.
The newest L'Heure de Cartier, L'Heure Perdue XI, is available at the official Cartier boutiques in the familiar architectural column bottles with the latin numbers typeface, encased in the deep red boxes we all know.
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