Odalisque

Thanks LadyKarl for suggesting this to me! One night a few weeks ago, all I wanted to do was stay in by myself, drink craft beers, and blare some old-school rock n' roll (Little Richard, the lesser known Bobby Mitchell, some early Art Neville). I dumped a bunch of Odalisque and Vie de Chateau over myself and sprawled out onto my comfy couch with my computer (no, I only wish I had vinyl) hooked up to my stereo speakers. Wait for it. Yes, I wore Odalisque and Vie de Chateau AT THE SAME TIME. And I drowned in them. Do you know what? For nearly 2 hours, I kept laughing aloud because of the sensory experience my poor nose was having. I think I might have gotten high off the fumes. Now you probably think I'm crazy, but I doubt I'll ever mix them again. ;) It was sort of the equivalent of a Parfums de Nicolai party gone rogue. So far, these are the only two PDN scents I've tried. Odalisque is the darkest floral chypre I've come across. Colour: a magenta so dark it's turning the brown of soil. Overall it's pretty and clearly meant for women, but the earthiness is of a masculine bent with its slightly smoky tang. I swear I smell hay in Odalisque, which is why I decided to layer it with the unisex Vie. I suppose the note I take for hay is what another might take for "pee" (it doesn't smell like pee, to me). Someone mentioned a "dusty" texture, but I don't find it dry enough to be dusty. The jasmine is downright oily to me, only kept in check by the moss and smoke. This oiliness is part of what makes Odalisque dreamy... it *feels* like ocean waves although it certainly doesn't smell like them. On me, the citrus lasts the whole way through, particularly in my hair. This is what I love best about Odalisque: Bergamot is one of my favourite notes and I've worn the essential oil for years. Bergamot is done differently, here. (LadyKarl, funny that I've always thought bergamot is the quintessential wedding scent!) A must-sniff for bergamot lovers? The first time I tried Odalisque (alone), I was disappointed that the drydown seemed so much more boring than the initial intoxicating and otherworldly burst of beauty. Like many of my favourite pieces of music, though, I needed to give it a few more chances to take it all in properly, to let myself delve deeper. Now, the drydown reminds me of to Mitsouko's. The oakmoss is somehow treated similarly (isn't Patricia de Nicolai a member of the Guerlain family, after all?). If Odalisque were airier and spicier, and more vintage-y, it could be close to la grande M. I can't wear Odalisque without listening to music, playing music, or wishing I was. It doesn't just go with Tutti Frutti and Lucille coming from the speakers, it goes wonderfully at the piano with some Czerny Etudes, Bach, and the Moonlight Sonata coming from my heart and fingers, or whatever little ditty I plink out of my guitar strings, any time of day or night. Update: I promptly finished my sample and purchase a bottle.

I was instantly hooked on Odalisque the first second I smelled it. I couldn’t tear my arms and wrists from my nose. Quick sniffs suggest a simple soliflore of lily-of-the-valley... but... there was... something. Something hard to put my finger on. Something in the depths, trying to hide, to stay concealed from eyes, fingers, and noses. Something... a bit psychologically complicated. Something... maybe even a bit raunchy. My French is rough at best, so I had to look up the origins of the name, which essentially means “chamber girl”. I read that, widely smiled, and immediately went in for another deep sniff. Yes. I found you. There you are. Hesperidics open the perfume, wonderfully chip-and-cheerful bergamots and oranges that almost come across like a happy neroli and orange blossom combination thanks to the white florals of the heart immediately starting to crowd-in. The citrus falls away to a heart that is as magnetic and coyly sultry as it is gorgeous: lily-of-the-valley, given adornments like little pieces of jewelry in the forms of jasmine, orris, and mosses. I wonder if Edmond Roudnitska, the King of Lily-of-the-Valley, ever smelled this. Surely he would’ve liked it (maybe even been a bit embarrassed by his own attempts to present it). The lily is unctuous, fleshy, wet, sweet, pollen nectar sliding down its petals in tiny prismatic gems. It wants to give this internalized scream of “take me now” but the indolic jasmine adds a slight levity that presents us with a smile rather than a seductive biting of the lip, and orris adds coolness and starchiness to help keep behavior more on the formal side. The jasmine aspects make themselves more apparent in the final dry down. Make no mistake though; that gleam in the eye is no lie. The musks lying underneath, sprawled across the silken sheets of the bed, tell you exactly what’s desired. And, just like being struck by love (or lust) at first sight, while wearing Odalisque for the first time my music app played Bewitched, Bothered, and Bewildered. Rather than saying “like a daisy I’m awake” Ms. Fitzgerald should have serenaded “lily”. “Horizontally speaking, he’s at his very best” indeed, madame Ella, very, very good indeed. Never mind the ending the to the song, we aren’t there yet - and I don’t think we will get there, not if we never get out of bed.

It’s truly unique. At the initial spray the bergamot and oakmoss are very dominant, giving it an air of old school, and it leans masculine. This is also what I get from the package the sample arrived in, which made me hesitate trying it out (I am in the search for a floral summer scent), it felt too potent. But today I’m just sitting around at home so I gave it a shot, and as I said, initially it is a very obvious chypre. Sniffing more closely, the bouquet of white flowers appears more dominant. These are fresh white flowers, not heavy and creamy, but quite ”straight”. If La Chasse aux Papillon is a broderie anglais-collar on a dreamy dress, the white flowers in Odalisque are a sharp cotton shirt-collar. Lily of the valley adds to the sharpness, but sweet jasmine is definitely detectable. I also get some neroli. Maybe its the combination of citrus topnotes and white floral heart. When settling down the initial sharp chypre notes calm down and turn into a softer, earthy greenness. Like walking through a sun drenched forest. It is definitely a summer scent - if you, like me, associate summer with a wild garden in a northern european climate and not tropical beaches - but if you live in a warmer climate I think it is closer to a spring scent. It is all in all very beautiful and, as chypres often does, reminds me of my grandparents summer house. So maybe it is childhood nostalgia but I think I need a full bottle.

Odalisque begins with a cool radiance like a day where the sun is beaming, but a cold front sends a chill that cuts into warm air. The bergamot and sweet orange peels seem crystalline and jasmine pierces like heartache. There are pittosporum hedges in bloom, at first fooling me into thinking there are orange blossoms, but there is a whetted blade of greenness that exhilarates me. The lily of the valley flower-bells ring and sing their haunting tenor. Then it feels like basins of nectar in oversized flowers suspended in the air, pouring their contents all over me. Vapors of mouthwatering juices render me nearly delirious. Over time, white flowers weep, with petals falling, deteriorating as the unforgiving summer closes in, and the trees are covered in peculiar mosses, the mushrooms burst through the earth, and the weeds grow unruly and restless. A dry dust descends. The reeds reach to the heavens by the beach, while I lay in the sand, listening to a small transistor radio, and Bob Lind's "Elusive Butterfly" plays. I recall the hauntingly beautiful spring that has now faded, clinging on to their memories. "... Don't be concerned, it will not harm you It's only me pursuing somethin' I'm not sure of Across my dreams with nets of wonder I chase the bright elusive butterfly of love..."

I have been looking for a lily of the valley fragrance that really spoke to me and I think I finally found it. I knew I could count on Patricia to make such a beautiful fragrance. Her fragrances always have such french class and style that it's impossible for me to find a fragrance of hers I dislike and even less likely with her more classic scents like this one. Odalisque feels like a soft hug from a really calm and caring person, so gentle and soothing... The lily of the valley smells perfectly recreated which is impressive knowing how many perfumers sadly fail at that task, getting more and more difficult with time due to restrictions. The opening mixes some citruses with the white florals which then naturally take a dominant position, but the lily is always a step above, a bit louder. I also detect a really soft musk, on the cleaner side which makes this scent even more approachable If you are looking for a lily of the valley fragrance you can count on Patricia to deliver on that task!