In his day, Paco Rabanne was the Clockwork Orange of fashion: an iconoclast smashing the past; futuristic, sci-fi; metal-fixated. The brief given to perfumer Michael Hy, therefore, for the edgy, yet ironically soon-to-be-classic perfume Calandre, was to capture the feeling of a couple making love on a car: elegant, undressed bodies caressing and thrashing on metal (the name refers to the metal grille on the front), he picking her up chez elle; white gloves; leather seat; the streets passing by, leisurely, but with purpose, to the pre-designated forest clearing.
Despite the shimmery and musky, low and erotic undertones in the base of this scent, though, there is nothing explicit or vulgar about Calandre: quite the opposite (which I suppose sums up the genius of French perfume). The man involved in this vernal escapade must have been really quite the seducer, and quite the dresser, too, I imagine, as the woman…
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My mother wore Calandre wonderfully well. It was lovely on her. I tried it myself and it felt alien and synthetic on my skin. That was many years ago. I’m due for a retry. Things change. 😉
But I can imagine the alien and synthetic thing somehow (after all it was supposed to conjure the idea of metal). It is certainly not a warm perfume but as you know it has a beautiful tenderness to it under its surfaces.
I love Métal.
Me too. Totally. And though I say so myself i love my review of that one!
Evocative and accurate. Thank you, N.
Are you a fan? I love this kind of scent when I am in the right mood. That silvery soap dreamsy clean thing.
Perfectly described. More than perfectly. Yes, that silvery soap dreamsy clean thing. With metal.