Papier Carbone

Those of a certain age will remember mimeograph paper, straight from the press and warm to the touch, with that unmistakable aroma from the duplicating fluid. It was sort of like the smell of rubbing alcohol without the harshness combined with an aromatic sweetness, a sensation like heliotrope without benzaldehyde-cherry-almond. The color of the ink: a violet blue, almost glowing on the paper. I looked at some images of old mimeo pages (or "ditto," as it was also often called) and was immediately transported to sitting at one of those desks made of heavy-duty plastic in pastel color, with the chrome legs. Papier Carbone reminds me of mimeograph paper, and of sharing Good n' Plenty candy with friends or plucking all the Brach's black gum drops out of the bag. I loved pens as a precocious child, and while I was still not yet allowed to use them in grade (primary) school, I was given Bic ballpoint pens at home—ahhh, that new pen smell, blue ink please. I'd scribble and draw and write to my heart's content into a fresh Mead paper pad, making schedules for an imaginary TV channel that I ran, or I would create road maps for imaginary towns. There was also my previous Mortimer Ichabod marker that I would use religiously whenever Picture Pages would air on Nickelodeon—I was the only kid in my neighborhood to actually own one, and yes, it did make fun electronic sounds! This fragrance takes me back to all of this and more. In the muted milkiness of its heart, its clary sage comfort and ambrette seed warmth, there is this poignant reminder of the purest form of human curiosity and receptiveness, something we lose sight of in our hard-worn adulthood. Herein lies the power of scent: it can be so very personal, opening the vaults of our memory in such a profound way. Perhaps many of us who seek out fragrance so voraciously, with such abandon, are seeking keys to these vaults, knowing that we are often made to feel whole once we reconnect to our past—we can return to the very core, the essence of who we are.

I bought Ormaie samples a few years ago and while I enjoyed all of them, I found myself wanting to purchase one of either Toï Toï Toï or Papier Carbone. They have rather similar spicy/gourmandish profiles and at the time I didn't know anything about perfumes so I ended up liking and later purchasing Toï Toï Toï. Not to say it was a mistake, but it's definitely the more tame and banal choice of the two. The star anise was the most prominent note upon spraying Papier Carbone, and it was quickly followed by the fresh and ticklish spiciness of the bergamot and cardamom. This acord is most obvious during the first 15-20min. After that point the fragrance mellows out into a more calming lavender. Nonetheless Papier Carbone retains a spicy profile, making it a much more compelling perfume overall. Both the fresh spice and the woodiness ground the scent perfectly, otherwise it would have a been a bit too out-there. I don't get any coffee at any point during the presentation, at least on my skin. It has decent projection but rather mediocre longevity (as do all of the Ormaie fragrances). All in all I really enjoy this fragrance, and find it to be a very appropriate autumnal scent - it's both playful and cozy. I can imagine myself all bundled up out on a nice breezy and cool walk outside wearing this. I will consider buying a full bottle once I'm done with Toï Toï Toï.

As below defiantly getting Sanuf, the mix of wood nutmeg and star anise give it that but with a spicy black pepper dry down I think this scent is fantastically unique its creative and professional, I'd remember someone wearing this

A true gem! Memorable, unique, and effortlessly cool. It stands out with its artistic vibe and leaves a subtle, lasting impression. Love, love, love it!

I definitely understand why some might dislike Papier Carbone but to me it recalls rising from my desk in my Catholic grade school and walking to the corner of the classroom to use the wall-mounted pencil sharpener to avoid being called on, and I’m really a sucker for that sort of specific association. The chalk accumulating on the blackboard ledge, the jar of old candies on the teacher’s desk. It was an unusually hot spring that year and one girl fainted during Mass because the church had no AC; the onion-skin-thin paper of the missalettes warped in the oppressive humidity. I’m not sure I would wear this since I don’t necessarily ever want to think about Catholic school again but I can’t stop smelling the sample I bought, even though I’d agree it’s sort of musty, muddied, etc. tl;dr: baked bible pages ground to dust w/ an anise pod

Looks like proper everyday skin scent, non-offensive, gender-neutral and modern. Well blended, muted effect. Quite interesting.

sweet, little bit freshness/lemony scent, reminds me of some strange sweet candy.

This gives a good paper effect. Chaotic citrus, lactonic and spicy opening with cardamom and anise above all, then vanilla, ambrette, pencils, patchouli, languid smoky guajac, vetiver... When it settles it is pleasantly warm ,nuanced,subtle . Interesting, it gives a good idea, it's finely crafted, but on my skin it comes out very sweet. I get more paper and less... "coal". More of a vintage Christmas card than a traced sheet... I'll try spraying it with bitter ink, layering it perhaps with a bitter vetiver attar... Stimulating.

Second rendezvous with Ormaie and... well. If Le Passant was a pencil stew, Papier Carbone is the inkwell it drowned in.This opens like you just nosedived into a soot-flecked satchel. The type that’s been buried in a peat bog since 1973, full of melted crayons, antique papers, fennel candies gone soft, a scratched cassette labelled “coffee shop ambiance (side B).” Oh! But this is all in a bad way, if I forgot to mention. Yes, there’s coffee, technically. But it’s SO muddy. Not roasted but composted, earthy in the absolute wrong direction. I imagine they were going for the richness of a Turkish brew, that alluring density, but instead it feels like the grounds after the third pour. Overextracted. Tired. Watery-bitter. Watery vetiver. Patchouli dominates after half minute: chunky, soil-caked, not the green sparkling kind or even the psychedelic-sweet kind. This is rooty and musty. A dissonant, almost swamp-mulch-like patchouli that clings. My parents actually recoiled when they smelled it off my wrist (honestly, I did too). There's that star anise, even a bit of clove jabbing its elbows in, yet the whole blend feels fogged instead of spicy. Resinous, maybe a hint of opoponax, sweet but not sweet enough to sing—stick though? Definitely. Later it gets less offensive, I’ll give it that. As it dries down, that something floral-syrupy and inky, like dried violets pressed in a shadowy library book, almost resembles harmony. But it never quite escapes feeling like a feeble attempt at self-correcting. This scent is dying to be complex, but it ends up more like a smudged carbon copy of something written in better print. A beautiful concept lost to silt and static, Papier Carbone feels like the olfactive equivalent of licking a damp postcard from someone you once loved and no longer recognise. Beautiful fonts, unreadable message.

Another disappointment for me from this brand. On my skin I detected neither coffee nor anise, no spices at all in fact, just some faint, vaguely honey-like and floral syrupy sweetness that I was almost glad to feel gone within two hours. On the blotter it was initially more interesting, with a whiff of that resinous, inky, dried-fruit scent of what the title and marketing promised, the 'carbon paper' I remember from my childhood and which was what got me all excited about trying this in the first place. But no... let's just say, if Proust had dipped his madeleine in tea and got this as a result, the best associative outcome would be a few lines long, not the 6 volumes of his masterpiece. And whoever thought this anaemic concoction was anything like Sorcinelli's Ennui Noir must be on a different olfactory plane from the rest of us...

I was interested to see two huge game changer notes listed--coffee and anise. Now that it's settled for a while and I smell it again, I, of course, pick out those notes. That said, they don't beat the wearer over the head at the outset. This feels all seamlessly blended and harmonized with dry, slightly smoky woods and spices. Maybe it's the name, but it reminds me a bit of those papier d'Armenie incense leaves. The abstract and expressionistic interpretation of paper is well done!

Fizzy anise-lavender candy, that is not too sweet, just a tiny bit of underlying almost vanilla sweetness in it. It's very refreshing and certainly citrus plays a role in this but at the same time it's not your usual citrus, spices and ambrette are nicely blended and it's somehow both fresh and warm-oreintal at the same time. I would absolutely enjoy wearing this in the summer heats, although it doesn't boast a strong sillage. Cute fragrance!

Wow, the scent of sharpening a pencil, fresh sheets of paper, a whiff of salted black licorice. This is a specific memory of childhood the perfumer is sharing with us and I'm immediately transported. This is a very wearable anis scent, creamy and papery. Like the feeling of the first day of school, or maybe working on homework during Christmas break while eating pizzelles.

It really is pretty much as it’s meant to be! It smells like paper bag of liquorice torpedoes and a leaky fountain pen in your pocket. I normally hate liquorice in perfume but I like this.

I was surprised at how milky this is, gourmand without being too sweet, just that touch herbal with anise but mostly musk mallow and feels really milky. Really like it!

Love....that’s it. That’s the post. Somehow this was on Saks for $93 instead of $360 and I took a chance on the blind buy. It’s beautiful. Lucky me.

oddly specific but this smells just like saunf (indian candied fennel seeds)