Because I danced to the Nutcracker and used to perform an imaginary role of Schéharazade in my room (I secretly really loved the ballet: not something you admitted to at the school I went to), when I was nine, my mother took me to see Coppélia. What was to have been a magical night at the theatre though, was me, mortified; slumped in my seat at the sissifying shame of being a boy – a ‘ponce’ - at the ballet. Deep down I was thrilled, but watched the stage in mortified paralysis, slumped in my seat with embarrassed, feverish cheeks.
But the excitement of the big night out is something that stays with you; when you close the front door behind you and go out, dressed up, to the theatre: the darkness; that red-ruched, velvet claustrophobia. This perfume by Hermès reminds me of that sense of occasion, the emotion beneath it; your mother cleaning your face with powdered lipstick-spit as you climb the carpeted staircase and hear the first animated murmurings from arriving crowds. A ravishing, stupendously romantic perfume (Rouge is very much a perfume, not a ‘fragrance’) that deserves far wider recognition. In the extrait especially, Rouge dazzles in its compact, tiered complexity: impossible glamour from the first spray, but with that Hermès impeccable taste: a shimmering rush of powdery myrrh-fused roses, lit with bright ylang, cedar, and a light veil of spice. Pulsating beneath this delicious cloud is a costly seduction of resins, vanilla, costus, and musk. It is this troubling finish, the Oedipal animality at the heart of this fragrance, contrasted brilliantly with the beautiful first notes, that makes Rouge so exciting as a contemporary perfume.
Superficially similar to Guerlain’s Chamade, Rouge has far more self-composure. Where the former has an almost embarrassing sincerity (the most ‘in love’ of all perfumes), Rouge is the same woman twenty years later: richer, harder, yet still incredibly beautiful.
Love your Hermes Rouge review. Once took Dante to the ballet to see Matthew Bourne’s Swan Lake, and this pompous woman next to him berated him loudly for rustling his sweet papers. She started expounding on how children shouldn’t be allowed in to watch ballet! It was dreadful because he was already on that 11-year old cusp of nonchalently pretending he didn’t care whether he watched it but secretly really excited, and he was mortified for the remainder of it. He gave up salsa dancing soon after and insisted on doing football. But something good of it must stay with you. Your review is divine.
I hate such things happening. For me my love of ballet made me feel nothing but shame. And I don’t know if I am just projecting something onto this scent, but it does somehow convey those feelings to me. Very dressed up and perfumey. You must try it when you come!
I love the notion of a Chamade that has regained its composure. Replaced that heady sparkle with impeccable gloss perhaps.
What a gorgeous way of putting it!
Chamade sometimes strikes me as wearing its heart shockingly, on her sleeve. It is Duncan’s vote for best perfume of all time, by the way.
I can see why, dizzyingly lovely.
Lord…I knew we were kindred spirits! Started ballet classes at the age of three and made it to a professional level but stopped at age 23 due to an injury. It is a very difficult profession and not as glamourous as one may think.
Neil, despite your reported clumsiness I think you would have made a great ballet dancer for your personality is so artistic !
great post!
Thanks a lot….I don’t know if I could have, but I know that I just have to hear Tchaikovsky to tear up…and Black Swan KILLED and KILLS mex
I know EXACTLY what you mean ….it took me many,many years before I could see a ballet, let alone listen to music that one associates with it (such was the profound psychological effect and believe it or not I still have dreams about being in ballet classes and wake up in a cold sweat). I never allowed my children to even entertain the idea of ballet classes for I knew that as an art form it was extremely hard on one both physically and mentally.
I know what you mean alabaster wrists! I’m sorry to hear about your injury. My mum was a ballet dancer and dislocated her knee in her early twenties so was forced to give it up. It’s very difficult because the way ballet dancers used to be trained made it an all or nothing activity and also the emotional development of ballet (and its themes) has a relationship to tragedy and ephemerance, so it is very hard on young ballerinas when something happens to interrupt the development. Have you ever done any Five Rhythms by Gabrielle Roth? It’s great for dancers. Her book ‘Sweat Your Prayers’ talks about how she developed the dance techniques when her own ballet career was interrupted by injury. I think ballet is taught in different ways these days with more emphasis on holism and balance and mixing it with other dance forms to relieve the pressure on the body. even so I remain a little wary of it too.
Aaaah, Hermes Rouge. It’s on my want list, then off again, then on again. Some days I love the powdery dry woody fragrance with ylang ylang, other days all I smell is roses, ugh. The only way I like roses are as fresh flowers. In perfumes roses always turn green/sour/dusty on me, depending on the rose used. I might have to buy the smallest bottle available just to get it over with, and cross it off my to buy list. But I’m afraid that next time I step into the Hermes store and start testing, I might end up leaving the store with something else, or be indecisive and buy several perfumes. The Kelly Caleches are also on my wish list you see. Aaaah, Hermes what have you done to me?