Tag Archives: Diptyque

Mon serpent, mon cygne…………… D’HUMEUR JALOUSE by L’ARTISAN PARFUMEUR (1994) + L’OMBRE DANS L’EAU by DIPTYQUE (1983) + EAU DE CAMPAGNE by SISLEY (1974)










I find myself in green temperament;  in a mood, aggressive almost, for fresh, sharp, verdant scents that match the shooting growth outside; that push away the coddling winter, the comforting sloth of my recent smothering orientals and let me feel like a snake shedding its skins on brand new blades of long, budding grass.

And D’Humeur Jalouse is the snake: possibly the greenest scent ever made, almost painfully so at first – the serpent in the grass, the vivid eyes of jealousy; strident tones of stinging nettles and grasses, softened, only barely, with a sinuous touch of almond milk to temper an olfactory sketch that is bitter, unusual, and solitary: green to the point of catharsis.








L’Ombre Dans L’Eau

A movement from the river bank under the shades of weeping willows; a swan glides slowly by…..

Evoking a green riverside garden, the shadows of plants rippling the waters, L’Ombre Dans L’Eau is at first intensely green  – a sharp, rush of galbanum entwined with the lush tartness of blackcurrant leaves.  From this compacted flourish then emerges, unhurriedly, the quiet dignity of the Bulgarian rose: calm, romantic, yet austere,  rather supercilious and snobbish even, and the main theme of L’Ombre Dans L’Eau (‘the shadow in the water’) is thus set. As light fades and the murmurs of evening approach, a soft base note of pot pourri-like rose, with the slightest hint of something like peachstone, finishes off a singular, enduring composition that breathes a certain air of timelessness.





Eau De Campagne



The perfect green? This scent is summer; the exhilaration of meadows; of stalks crushed underfoot, swords of sunlight infiltrating blades of grass. Chlorophyll at dusk; ladybirds….







Wild grass oils, vetiver, bergamot, hyacinth, and a beautifully verdant, piercingly green basil/tomato leaf introductory accord begin a fragrance (Jean Claude Ellena’s first, from the time when he still went for the orchestral) that is exhilarating and refreshing, uncompromisingly strident, yet balanced and wearable at the same time, with a gentle, elegant, almost savon-like finish.







Filed under Basil, Blackcurrant leaf, Green, Perfume Reviews, Stinging Nettles, Tomato Leaf



Ivy has magical connotations for me. Walks in the woods, the songs of Kate Bush; walled, secret gardens. There is something primordially English about the sight of harsh, winter rain drops smacking this resilient evergreen’s heart-shaped leaves, as it clings, steadfast, to an old rectory wall; glassy beads of water hanging on the cold edge of a leaf. Also my grandmother, Ivy – bless her – prone to jealousy and vitriole, was sometimes called ( by members of the family ) Poisoned Ivy. I therefore loved the idea of a bitter-green fragrance in honour of her.

I was to be disappointed. I love the first stage of this scent – icy, rain-drenched ivy leaves ripped from trees : vivid dark-green and fresh. But this accord unfortunately then fades to a rather typical, contemporary-metallic, non-descript ending that doesn’t quite rise to the verdant challenge of the opening. What begins with a hint of poetry ends simply as a clear, fresh sports fragrance. Despite my misgivings, though, I do think that there is is room for this kind of scent, particularly when you are feeling head-stuffed and oversweetened. For those who favour the verdurous and the aerated, Eau de Lierre (‘Ivy Water’) for a short while at least, is quite effectively mind-bracing.



Filed under Green, Ivy, Perfume Reviews