Scentzilla!

Amarige arguably consititutes a modern classic. She is a big-boned mama: redolent of body, and full grown in spirit. She is not discreet, yet she is not brash. She walks into a room, and announces her entry by virtue of her presence alone. This sort of character can instantly earn either enmity or admiration without intending to do so.

The scent of Amarige whomps you over the head with a frying pan of gardenia. To put it less colorfully, it is heady and rich. Plonked down with the gardenia are notes of creamy, rubbery tuberose, sweet fruits and sweet woods. The wee-est touch of spiciness rises up on me through midwear, but it lasts only briefly. (The spiciness smells a little like this braided bread plyed with generous cardamom that my mother-in-law loves to bake at Christmas time.) I often feel overshadowed by this fragrance when I try to wear it. Consequently, I now keep a mini of it on hand, but never a full sized bottle. I appreciate it without being able to use it, I guess.

At the tail end of 2005, Givenchy released Amarige Harvest Collection, a limited edition vintage fragrance focused on a specific mimosa harvest from Grasse. If you haven’t yet had a go at Chandler Burr’s NY Times article about the trend of vintages in perfumes, here ya go. Or you can simply read the September 16th release from Women’s Wear Daily about Givenchy’s Harvest Collection as transcribed by a member of the Basenotes community.

As stated in the Times article and WWD, mimosa is indeed pumped up in the Harvest version. However, what I find most notable is Amarige Harvest’s steady heartbeat of neroli, giving a fresh burst of life into a perfume that is 25 years old. The mimosa floats into the air like gossamer caught in a delicate jasmine breeze. The sillage is unbelievably lovely.

However, at no time is the essential character of Amarige lost in the Harvest, and it could not ever be mistaken for anything but Amarige, even with the alterations. The subject is the same, though the portrait differs. But in Harvest the gardenia seems more tamed, pushed back a bit, allowing for more light to shine on the other notes. Funnily enough, taming gardenia seems to do wonders for the tuberose. Especially on the dry down. It’s rendered more palpable and less tangental than in regular Amarige.

The skinny here is, if you already know and love Amarige, and have been pondering whether to get a bottle, I would choose the Harvest Collection. The price difference is all of ten dollars, and worth it. If you already know and despise Amarige, the Harvest Collection version has nil to offer you: you’ll continue to despise it.

I don’t think this newish trend of releasing “vintage” blends is an inherently bad idea. What I fear will happen, though, is that it’ll become a sales crutch. Despite the proclamation this effort is to steer away from the cosmetic industry’s use of “stories” to sell its wares, the flat fact is that limited edition vintages employ every bit of gimmickry the stupid stories do. In Givenchy’s case, this will at least spare me (albeit briefly) from being sold first on Liv Tyler’s face, and then on the perfume. That? Is good by me. Most regrettable about this gimmick mimicking wine/champagne makers is the fact that many times the NV (Non-Vintage) selections from wineries can be happier finds than those with a distinct year of vintage broadly listed across the label.

Images: First is L’Arlésienne by Van Gogh. He actually completed two of this woman, this one from 1888, and a later one done appoximately in 1889 before he left Arles, which bears the same title and is the third image. Second is Night Café by Gauguin. All are paintings based on studies sketched at roughly the same point in time of Madame Ginoux, a widow who ran a small cafe that the two would frequent while they were still friends. The subject is the same, though the portraits differ. EDIT: For visual insight into their friendship, please delve into a tidy little slideshow of pieces from the Art Institute of Chicago.

P.S. Skip the Amarige Silk Veil lotion - it kind of sucks. It starts out okay, but within minutes it goes straight to a watery gardenia that drowns the other notes. I don’t know about the cream lotion though: the Givenchy creams are a little too rich for me, so I’ve never tried it.