You’re thinking, “What’s with all the Hermès scents lately? First it’s that Bel Ami swill, then the newer/nicer Hermessence ones. What gives?”

What gives is I got a free sample of Kelly Calèche, which I’ve been jonesing to try due to the breathless anticipation in the blogosphere about it. How did I get it? I had the opportunity to buy my Hermessence fave, Ambre Narguile, in a quantity larger than 1.5 ml. (Specifically, 3.3 oz. @ $195. Ouch! I better have gotten a free sample with that!) I also bought it while wearing shorts and flip-flops.

WTF?! Isn’t the Hermessence collection only in certain exclusive Hermès boutiques? Aren’t these boutiques in very very fancy boulevards and shopping gallerias (not malls!) that have actual fashion police to keep out the riff-raff earning less than seven figures annually, minimum? Why yes, they do, MOST of them. I was fortunate to be on my honeymoon in Hawai’i (that’s MRS. Heretic to you!) Yes! The Waikiki Hermès boutique is one of the few that carries the Hermessence collection, but in full-size bottles, not the small 4-bottle sets (the Hermès outpost at nearby Ala Moana Mall does NOT carry Hermessence!)

Any readers that’ve been to Waikiki know it’s heavily geared towards rich Japanese tourists, yet still manages to be full of beach bums and West Coast college kids, plus any of the above regularly go to a fancy dinner right from the beach, still sandy and in their flip-flops. This equals the only Hermès boutique in the world where I could walk in (after some prodding from my husband) dressed like this without getting dirty looks, actually get attended to by a very nice Japanese sales girl, and actually be allowed to purchase anything… AND get a free sample!

OK, so… Score! So what does the stuff smell like already? It smells exactly as the advertising says (now you know why I went on about its acquisition). It smells like the accessories section of every fancy department store you’ve ever visited. It’s softly flowery, softly woodsy, and gently leathery, like very soft suede gloves, not something harder and nastier like a saddle or a motorcycle jacket. Other bloggers have already said much the same thing about Kelly Calèche, there is no new news to report. The advertising images of a model in leather pants with a bottle of the stuff caught in a carriage whip is inaccurate, there isn’t even that much leatheriness in this, it’s much more civilized. The scent doesn’t change as it wears, it’s “linear” with no noticeably different top note or undernotes that appear later in the day as it wears out. This is a soft, tasteful scent you can wear everyday, to the office, going out, etc. It succeeds in communicating wealth and taste subtly (unlike anything by Jean Patou). Many might adopt it as their signature scent. It provides an aura of classiness, but isn’t obtrusive. Obviously it’s designed to appeal to everyone. I find it boring …but not tedious, which is further evidence of its excellent design. For everyday wear, I’m still in love with Ambre Narguile, a much more complex, intriguing scent that I can sniff all day and find a different facet. Kelly Calèche, much like the actress Grace Kelly after whom it was named, is a more aloof scent. Nice and classy …and so what?

Ambre Narguile, 2004

I detect: Amber, a powdery note, almond (marzipan?), mimosa, musk. The amber isn’t annoying and obvious, but is used as rounding, as it should be, instead of as a head-splitting club. The mimosa is probably giving it the almond/marzipan scent I detect. I always smell marzipan in mimosa scents…

Nice.

It makes me reminisce about a dog grooming salon, specifically the
almondy-powdery notes smell just like the powder they put in my dog’s
fur after they shaved him for the summer, with the slight musk note it
actually smells a little like my dog, too. This isn’t a bad connotation,
clean doggie is a very nice, friendly smell, and I miss my doggie!

This one lasts and lasts on the skin, getting foodier and almondy-er as
it wears, but never tips over the edge into making you hungry or
smelling like a cookie.

Osmanthe Yunnan, 2005

Like Sweet Honesty by Avon, freesia and a powder note, lily of the
valley, and the slightest of musk. Very sweet. Smells just like some
Holly Hobbie bubble bath beads I had as a child. Absolutely NO lasting
power, sweet top note dissipates in a few minutes, soft powdery note
lingers slightly longer but fades sharply very quickly, there’s nothing
left in an hour. Would be an excellent choice for the tween girl in your
life, if you’re the sort of cool aunt who’d give her an expensive “grown
up” perfume. It’s much more sophisticated than the usual choice of
9-year-olds -Love’s Baby Soft, or any of the wretched fruity-floral
Hilary Duff fragrances that are so popular lately. Much less cotton-candy sweet than anything by Aquolina, either. I wish I had more to say about it other than “sweet & lovely & GONE in 60 minutes!”

Bel Ami by Hermès is a black hole cologne, you try to escape from its pull, but ultimately succumb to the stygian Pine-Sol Musk depths, its bug spray-like sillage is the electromagnetic transmission signalling a fresh victim.

This is from the ’80s, but smells as harsh as a cheap cologne from the ’70s (an old, very cheap one called Archie, whose bottle was a miniature plastic hard hat, comes to mind). When I tried it on my fiancé it reacted as the creators probably intended, his skin swallowed up the scent almost immediately, and curiously, released the faintest whiff of clove. In an hour the piney-bug spray scent appeared, but much weaker and less noxious, it was almost nonexistant in a few hours and disappeared before the end of the day.

Earlier “cologne” was a unisex scent, usually heavy on the citrus, maybe a little something piney but not much. No. 4711 being one of the originals and still a perennial (if not ubiquitous) favorite in Europe. Only much later, in the mid- 20th century, did cologne become a “man’s” scent, though a scent aimed at men in the ’20s, Jicky, became more popular with women than men. All further men’s cologne after WWII retains the formula Bel Ami follows with a vengeance: The obvious conifer note, the musk note, and the citrus note, in various strengths and balances, and this one didn’t escape (though Bel Ami’s official notes do not contain any conifer!) Even something very modern and as far away as you can get from stinky-strong Bel Ami, Air by Kenzo, retains this basic formula. Other attempts to re-jigger men’s cologne usually only succeed insofar as they dress up this basic triad, making it less identifiable immediately.

Newer fragrances for men, which do not aspire to really be “cologne”, are much more successful. Drakkar Noir and Polo being the early harbingers of this new wave, which ironically also were from the ’80s just like Bel Ami. These two were wildly successful amongst women, who often wore them and/or bought them for their men (a throwback to Jicky?). Mixing the piney note with something watery/fresh, and an almost complete lack of the musky notes make these much more similar to women’s fragrances. A more recent trend of adding fig notes to men’s fragrances also enlivens the generic formula, but is now so ubiquitous (see my comments on amber notes in the Chanel #5 entry) the formula might now officially be Fig-Musk-Fresh instead of Pine-Musk-Citrus. (Yes, I know I’m not including the ’90s Thierry Mugler musk-chocolate-vetiver concoctions, which are such a sudden turn into left field I’m not touching them –yet).

Two steps forward, one step back for men’s fragrance. Lather, rinse,
repeat -at the very least to get Bel Ami off my skin!