Chypre Palatin

Chypre Palatin is one of those "perfect" perfumes. Yes, part of that is the way it smells and wears, which we'll get into in a second, but a "perfect" perfume must also clearly illustrate its time and place in this great continuum of modern perfumery. I laughed when Chypre Palatin was released, but I had been doing a lot of laughing in the decade around it. So many of us had hung our hopes on niche perfumery daring to be different, to introduce new structures and smells and ideas, and to subvert the derivation-driven commercialism that had become modern perfumery's skeletal structure. What did MDCI do? They gave us an old school chypre. Lol, indeed. We saw this coming, but what was funny was how long it took perfume enthusiasts and the maisons to even admit it was happening. Lutens became a legend for taking old staples and mind-warping them; Malle built a brand whose raison d'etre was to take old stuff and do it the way he wanted to do it; L'Artisan Parfumeur tried to be different, quickly started tripping, then quickly started down the modernization-of-old direction, and is now no different than any other Puig brand rehashing old and new trends; etc., and we didn't seem to care. Casual perfume wearers, and freaks like me, were (and still are) eating up these revisited classics by the bucket loads. Cue Chypre Palatin, a very old school chypre modernized by a niche house and a master modern perfumer who has given us more than a share of commercial juggernauts. Irony thick enough to be cut with a chainsaw, little alone a knife. But it's whatever, because Chypre Palatin is a masterpiece. CP opens with aldehydes, lavender, sage, galbanum, and oranges. Licorice. When I gave the opening quite a bit of attention, yes, all of those other accords were perceptible, but the initial reaction I had was a chokingly dry black licorice. The aldehydes do not shimmer or sparkle nor effervesce, they powder coat the nose and the back of the throat like black dust. The lavender, sage, and galbanum work together to present a dried herbal, green, woody, a touch oily, and rooty licorice-like accord that is just slightly sweetened by oranges. Helping this overall accord along are some powerhouse materials in the base stretching all the way to the top, namely the leather-evoking castoreum, and warm, woody, and animalic styrax and benzoin - the benzoin doing a little something extra, adding a fleck of vanilla into the mix, but it's far from having its final say in that regard. In newer formulations that vanilla is noticeably stronger at the top, but it doesn't distract from the whole of the top notes. As we slowly proceed to the heart, orris appears to carry the dry, starchy, woody, and rooty mantle, plum and gardenia connect with the orange from the top to give a fruit and whipped cream type accord - which is far from being as sweet as it sounds, mind you - and green jasmine and rose connect with the herbal, green, and oily top notes and textures. Meanwhile, the base notes continue to grow and bloom, and this is where long-time wearers of Chypre Palatin will start scratching their heads. The floral heart of newer formulations is noticeably quieter and shorter lived. The original floral heart always struck me as a bit Guerlain-esque, but I'm not getting that thought anymore. The swelling base is turning from a spicy, warm, woody direction to a spicy amber direction as the sweetness of the benzoin and styrax amp up and the vanilla gets stronger. In the older formulations the animalic and woody aspects of costus, and the musky animalic sides of benzoin and styrax were more prominent with their woody aspects instead of their sweet sides, and the castoreum had a bigger leather presence. One final thing is that the moss note of the base has definitely been tampered down - whether by force or by choice, it's no surprise - which certainly plays a big a role in knocking the dry down of Chypre Palatin a bit off balance towards amber. As I sit here smelling my old bottle and a new decant, the difference is apparent enough that I wonder if CP can be called a chypre anymore. I believe it can, but it's leaning well over the line. Now, before you go reading this thinking you should skip Chypre Palatin because it isn't like it once was, don't. There is still plenty of the original's intact DNA in the new formulation, and it's still a stunning piece of work - very nearly as good as it's ever been. The way Duchaufour stitches all of the materials and the notes together is masterful. The materials and notes do not pop-up and disappear, they shape-shift like a flowing mosaic. For the bores that care about this sort of thing, the performance is still very much there too; the longevity is solid, and, rather uniquely, Chypre Palatin has always had the ability to stay quite close to the skin (low projection) and never crowd you, despite the powerhouse chypre+amber combination, yet the sillage is quite strong - you will get noticed. Old idea, new spin. Spun like a top. I get mesmerized by this perfume every time I wear it. I firmly believe this is in contention for the best perfume Duchaufour has ever created.

"A majestic Old-World European palace, secluded from the world and almost forgotten in time." Chypre Palatin is a 2012 fragrance from MDCI Parfums, a French niche perfume house by Claude Marchal. The house is conceived with a specific philosophy in mind: create great perfumes hiring the world's best perfumers without any cost restraint. Among the perfumers on board is Bertrand Duchaufour, one of the most foremost noses in the perfume industry, and he introduced to the world a fragrance that smells of the Old World from a modernist's approach. Like its name, Chypre Palatin is a classic chypre perfume and pays tribute to the family made by François Coty. A chypre perfume usually have citrus top notes, followed floral heart notes and base notes that typically include oakmoss and some animalics. On my skin, it opens with blasts of citrus and light floral notes such as clementine and water hyacinth. Clementine and water hyacinth each has unique scent: the former smells similar to most citrus notes but without the tangy undertone, while the latter invokes a light, cool "watery" property. After some time, notes of green galbanum and balsamic tolu balsam began to reveal themselves. These are two key notes that render Chypre Palatin a perfume that belongs to the Old World. Galbanum is what renders Chypre Palatin's scent one that is reminiscent of perfumes from yesteryear, and is present in many legendary fragrances such as Guerlain's L'Heure Bleue and Vol de Nuit, and Dior's vintage Miss Dior. Tolu balsam is a velvety, balsamic note that can be found in legendary perfumes such as Yves Saint Laurent's vintage Opium, Jean Desprez's Bal a Versailles, and Guerlain's Vol de Nuit. After an hour or two, the heart notes reveal themselves as a lush bouquet of flowers. There is also a tinge of plum in there, which is another note prominent in vintage perfumes. But the true beauty of Chypre Palatin, in my opinion, is the drydown: on top of tolu balsam are smooth and creamy vanilla, leathery castoreum and oakmoss. Oakmoss is particularly special because its use is heavily controlled by tight IFRA regulations and is one of the key notes in the chypre family and vintage perfumes. Oakmoss is terribly difficult to process, yet Chypre Palatin is utterly rich with this realistically wet, damp-earthy note (whether or not real oakmoss is present is very debatable). I vividly remember buying a decant of Chypre Palatin with very little amounts left from a friend. Upon first sniff, the scent struck with me and many of those around me. I emptied the decant for a single use while in New York City last December and it was MAGICAL! This perfume is born to be used in cold climates, where its full magic works wonders for the wearer and everyone around him. Many have claimed that it smells like "a (rich) old lady", and I don't disagree. Indeed, it smells like a vintage perfume and understandably it appeals even to older females. Yet, its leathery-animalic tones render this practically unisex. The only thing I would say is that the wearer must be mature enough to pull this fragrance off. I cannot ever imagine it being used and appreciated by adolescents; at least the average adolescent would find the smell of this perfume "old". But in this age where perfumes smells cheap, skews acutely to smelling fresh and clean, Chypre Palatin is a respectable tribute to perfumes of days gone by. The scent is complex and kaleidoscopic, where each use reveals different facets that first-time users wouldn't realise at first. Although pricey, it's one of those fragrances that is fundamentally love at first sight, and the price is worth every cent. Moreover, it is a testament to Duchaufour's mastery in perfume and how he is simply one of my favourite perfumers. A big merci beaucoup to Monsieur Duchaufour and MDCI Parfums; Chypre Palatin is simply glorious.

In my opinion, this is one of the best perfumes of this century yet. As a whole, it is difficult to find any flaws in it. A titanic work from one of the best noses in the industry, Bertrand Duchaufour. Now, the perfume did change, as far as the smell goes, although the quality stayed the same. I like to see these two as different takes on the same theme. I know Claude Marchal stated many times that the perfume has not been reformulated. Having communicated with him via e-mail on multiple occasions, I feel he is one of the nicest, most passionate, and honest people in this industry. Therefore, if he claims that, I believe him. Maybe the change in smell is due to the way these naturals are sourced, different crops, all playing a pivotal role in the end product. This is something that I have experienced already first-hand with BOGUE's MAAI, where different iterations smell completely different from each other, though no reformulation took place. Perhaps that was the case here as well. I find the two versions quite different, except for the late dry down, after five hours or so, when they become very close to each other, with the vintage keeping more of an earthy feel overall. Both play on this Baroque, Grand, Larger-Than-Life Oriental-Chypre theme, with the vintage feeling more of an actual Chypre, whereas the modern version feels more like an Oriental. There are more classical elements in the original version. The aldehydes in the opening, the bitter green galbanum, the watery hyacinth, the leathery-castoreum, the earthy mossiness, and only in the later stages do the resins start to unveil their golden warmth. In the modern version, these classical, or as some would call them nowadays, "dated" elements are no longer detectable. It starts as an Oriental, with plenty of warm resins (lots of tolu balm), sweet florals, and juicy, overripe fruits. No greens or bitters, no fleeting aldehydes, and no castoreum or leather. The inky moss and the earthiness are also missing. It is now an exotic perfume warmed by resins with only a suggestion of a Chypre-like structure. Much like MAAI changed over time. From a green chypre to a smoky-resinous Oriental. However, the change is not as significant here. I love and enjoy both equally. When I'm in the mood for something with more of a vintage flair, I reach for the older version, and when I crave something warmer and sweeter, for the modern one. As amazing as ever, just adapted to the shifts of time, people, places, and nature. IG:@memory.of.scents

*Sigh*.... Why did I have to fall in love with something this expensive? "Chypre Palatin" is a superbly blended fragrance that exudes warm, subtle elegance from beginning to end. Lush, hazy, soft, sweet, smoky, waxy, inky. It conjures up an image of a lacquered Chinese powder box sitting in a warm, lamp-lit room draped with heavy velvet curtains. You can smell the craftsmanship here. When you inhale deeply, it doesn't hit you with everything at once like most transparent designer scents, but rather it keeps going, revealing layer after layer: First the powdery meld of iris and leather, which for me creates the illusion of velvet, softening the dry soap-like tang of the castorem and aldehydes. Then the romantic rose, plum and barbershop lavender. Finally, the balmy, chewy sweetness of the tolu balsam, vanilla and benzoin -which has an almost chocolaty nuance at times- all wrapped in a soft haze of smoky earthiness. Perhaps not the most typically masculine of scents, but I see this befitting an artistic young man who's not afraid to show his romantic, softer side. A bit like me! :D Someday I may be rich enough to by thee, Palatin. Until then... *UPDATE* I finally succumbed to fate and purchased a bottle of this beautiful creation. I cannot disagree with Colin Malliard's review enough. This scent is absolutely worth the money. If you want over-priced pretentiousness, go smell Creed 'Aventus' - practically the same price as MDCI, nowhere near as complex or interesting. MDCI's ethos is to give the perfumer free reign over the design and create what they truly want to make without restrictions, using the best possible ingredients. It shows in Chypre Palatin. The textures are so rich and the persistence is fantastic; It lasts up to 8 hours on my skin, and several days on clothes. Don't let your opinion of the price inform your opinion of the quality.

And just like that, you find yourself transported into a marble palace where Baroque grandeur blends with Neoclassical elegance. Draperies, rich fabrics, and oriental carpets tell the story of distant journeys, while the air is filled with the lingering smoke of burners diffusing warm, sweet resins. The atmosphere is undeniably aristocratic, yet it evokes less the image of a nineteenth-century nobleman than that of a Roman emperor returning from the East, somehow transported into the Winter Palace of St. Petersburg, where the opulence of its earliest Baroque architecture gradually gives way to the more restrained Neoclassicism favored by Catherine the Great. I genuinely can’t think of a better way to describe the olfactory landscape imagined by Duchaufour. The opening is slightly sparkling, almost cola-like, yet simultaneously green and soapy. The plum quickly emerges and, to my nose, creates a subtle impression of licorice, paving the way for a creamy floral heart that feels powdery, yet gently earthy at the same time. Then comes the base, and the fragrance begins speaking an entirely different language: slightly animalic, musky, woody, and even faintly herbal. Throughout the entire journey, an ambered, resinous aura remains ever-present, both sweet and piercing at once. From a technical standpoint, calling it a masterpiece almost feels unnecessary. The only thing that continues to fascinate me is its very soul. It possesses an unmistakable identity, yet it never fully reveals itself. You can never quite tell whether it wants to seduce you with its warm, ambered, oriental embrace or keep you at arm’s length with an almost aloof, aristocratic elegance. I believe this ambiguity is precisely what makes it so remarkable. Both personalities coexist within it, and depending on who wears it, and when, one inevitably takes precedence over the other.