Givenchy Amarige and Amarige Harvest Collection (Millesime 2005)
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.
January 16th, 2006 at 6:05 am
“The scent of Amarige whomps you over the head with a frying pan of gardenia. ” Bwah ha ha!!!
And thank you for pointing out the fact that “vintage, harvest, blah blah blah” is (potentially or - in my humble grumbly opinion- already) the same old marketing “story” and “gimmick”.
January 16th, 2006 at 6:14 am
Ditto Marina’s first sentence in her commentary ;-) The florals are my favorites, and I have never sniffed Amariage, so that is on my list. Your description of the Harvest edition has me drooling.
That said, here’s my two cents on it all: we’ve been discussing the mainstream houses’ bit of panic over the intrusion of natural perfumery into their profit margin on my group for some time. A French member feels they are going to, in larger numbers, try to push their perfumes as natural, and, at the very least, increase the amount of naturals in the blends.
Perfumistsas may see it as a gimmick, those of the bit more skeptical amongst us natural perfumers see it as a desperate ploy.
Some (myself included on this) feel that they have been monitoring the chatter among us in our groups and have taken to the whole idea of ’special edition’ tied to a particular harvest, etc. We often state (I’ve seen this on numerous NP websites) that due to variations in soil, climate, extraction techniques, etc., our naturals vary from year to year. We’ve often made the wine analogy, also.
So amazing that the mainstreams are now parrotting this! LOL.
Still, it’s good, IMO, since it shines the light on naturals and their ability to capture the senses with their inherent beauty.
January 16th, 2006 at 6:14 am
Marina, what I think is even funnier is that the whole “lack of a story” angle is a story, too. Heh. How meta of LVMH.
Anya, I’m not sure it’s panic, but if everyone and their dog leaps into the fray with their own LE vintages, then it may be more at a sweaty palmed desperation as time goes on. The use of specific harvests really doesn’t seem a bad idea to me, but the inevitable hype that’s going to go along with all of them bugs, as well as the risk that vintages will become serial behavior like the current craze of sequel-izing fragrances.
January 16th, 2006 at 6:47 am
Understood, K. It’s just I (and others I speak with) find it ironic that for *decades* the big houses, and certain perfume critics and commentators insisted that the only way to create fine perfumes was to use synths (ignoring that there were a lot of naturals in the parfums, too) because it was necessary to have a homogenized, replicable scent year after year.
Less than five years after natural perfumery comes on the scene, they’re now into the “fine cru” PR. It’s different from the sequel-izing you mention, it’s a definite step into our natural terroir. I already smell the desperation, from this step and the reports of the slim profits in their industry.
That said, Amariage redux sounds lovely!
January 16th, 2006 at 8:36 am
Katie, I have been awaiting your review of Amarige Harvest eagerly. I think that you are spot on in your observations. I love the increased quantity of mimosa and accent on neroli in the top notes. It is beautiful, if one already loves the original.
Like you, I think that this is just another way for the perfume industry to gain back its image of luxury. The torrent of releases is right! Why not focus on the flowers and essences, especially since lately the interest in aromatherapy, all-natural everything is so high (just look at Donna Karan Essence line). I am just skeptical that the LE of Amarige actually contains more natural essence of mimosa than the original one.
January 16th, 2006 at 10:09 am
Very impressed, K, that the price difference is only $10. That is the big difference between the Givenchy & L’Artisan approaches to this concept. The person who typically buys Amarige can splurge a bit for a special new version, the L’Artisan customer will have to reach awfully deep into their wallet to have the Fleur d’Oranger.
January 16th, 2006 at 1:22 pm
I’m going on record right here as someone who loves being whomped by the Amarige frying pan. I don’t wear it often, although I’m wearing it right now — I used it to “bury” an unpleasant spritz of something at Sephora… you can bury almost anything with Amarige, can’t you?
I think the LEs are just another way to sell more perfume to people who may already own the “regular version” — plus there’s the snob factor of buying something that’s not theoretically unlimited in supply. Having said that, it sounds like l’Artisan and Givenchy LEs smell great.
January 16th, 2006 at 5:51 pm
Victoria, I’m not necessarily too skeptical, but the selling point of mimosa seems awfully misleading to me - it’s not the only shift of notes at all, and I think were it not for the more prominent neroli I’d hardly take notice of this LE.
Robin, yeah, in the case of this one ten dollars makes the concept more feasible for the average consumer - and this one, too. The L’Artisan line presents itself as a luxury and a niche house, so I suppose they’re in a better position to attract the consumers who are willing to pay for such a price jump. Givenchy’s cosmetic/perfume line positions itself more as a luxury line specifically for middle class folks, so I doubt they’d be able to swing that.
March - hee! Yeah, I think you could use Amarige to shut any other scent up if you wanted to. It is so potent. I have to apply lightly, or else I am opressed by it. It is beautiful, although I can’t carry off that big fruity gardenia very well at all. I do hope that these LEs don’t become the giant new trend, through, with LEs turning into a rule rather than offered as occasional exceptions.
January 16th, 2006 at 9:06 pm
I have the same feeling about Amarige as you do - I admire it but I cannot wear it myself - it is too “big” in a way, like Paloma Picasso was when it came out; it was made for someone I wish I could be sometimes but not for who I actually am. That being said, I enjoy smelling it whenever I get the chance, and the Harvest version sounds delicious.
However, when you love fragrance, there is always the risk that your favorite one will disappear - why should I buy one that I know for certain will go away? What if it’s the one I love the most that’s a limited edition? Seems a little masochistic (or sadistic on the part of the perfumers!) to knowingly fall in love with a millessime fragrance that you know will last only as long as the one precious bottle in your possession. I was quite peeved when the House of Amouage dropped Ubar, and I was delighted when I found it somewhere & ordered a bottle. But it just prolongs the agony of knowing that one day my source will dry up, irrevocably.
Perfumes will always come and go, but fortunately I like the classics best, and I know that there will always be something I love that is available. Perhaps I will take a risk someday and fall for a “harvest” fragrance. If it breaks my heart, there is always Lady Caron waiting for me to come back.
January 17th, 2006 at 2:30 pm
I do have to say the nice bit about this one is that it’s still unquestionably Amarige, so when push comes to shove I can always turn to just regular Amarige. But I know just what you mean - it’s terrible to become enamored of a perfume only to be unable to find it ever again. Honestly, I think were it more than that ten bucks extra per bottle I might not be so easily intrigued. There’s going to be Harvest releases of Organza and Very Irresisitble as well, and while I admit to some curiosity, and I can’t say I’ll be very interested since I’ve no particular love for either of those in their usual formulations. “But it just prolongs the agony of knowing that one day my source will dry up, irrevocably” - I feel the same way about Theorema, it’s just a sinking feeling I have when I look at the bottle, because it’s not going to be found here in the US much longer. Sigh.