This post is for D. an Aussie lass with bite,
wit & a passion for scent & jewellery. She bought me Diorling as a
gift; the kindness of the gesture overwhelmed me.
I am dank
with Diorling this evening. It is
spiky, vintage and weird, aristocratic and leathered. It smells ancient and
cosmic, of powdered aircraft fuel and Miss Haversham’s bridal bouquet. I can
never remember if I love it or loathe it; all I know is that it smells damn
sexy on me and I am fast becoming besotted with its wanton Belle de Jour atmospherics.
The original
tweed and riding boots feel has been unstitched and restructured by Dior’s in-house
perfumer François Demachy. He has avoided facsimile and pastiche, instead producing
a scent of vintage reference and enormous modern wearability. I imagine him cracking
the notes apart with an old, heirloom crop and then carefully reassembling the
pieces, layering and varnishing, burnishing the notes with the olfactory
equivalent of worn chamois cloths. Every time I wear it I feel the air around
me thick with sepia desire. One of the reasons I am rather partial to this new Diorling is Demachy’s perverse and reverential translation of the
sixties clash of tradition and modernity into a modern perfume idiom. I would
rather this than the continued and blatant (&
often denied) reformulation of beloved classics until barely a shadow of the
original remains.
Controversy
swirls in the air when it comes to the reformulation of classic perfumes. Bloggers,
reviewers and critics bemoan the death of olfactory creation, the demise of
beauty. I am not sure it is quite so cut and dried. Extinction is part of the
way we live. Time moves on. I personally like the idea of imagining how
beautiful things once were, it allows me the chance to dream, to speculate
scent into a historical context with fashion, manners and language. All of
these are constantly reinterpreted, reinvented and thrown out into the world.
Fragrance
is no different, themes come and go, dipping in and out of lifetimes. I know
purists will always argue the case for retaining original formulae or leaving
well alone. I can understand this, perfume is deeply personal but re-interpretation,
done with reverence and intelligence by talented perfumers can yield
interesting and illuminating results.
There is
so much wailing and beating of the perfumed breast when houses decide to re-launch
(and subsequently re-orchestrate their fragrances). But the truth of the matter
is that all houses are constantly reformulating. IFRA, the regulatory body that
issues strict guidelines on fragrance ingredients, is constantly updating and
tweaking its rules and regulations. Each year sees new additions to the lists
of prohibited and restricted materials. This endless shift in the use of
naturals and synthetics, levels and percentages has left a trail of diminished
scented havoc throughout the world of fine fragrance. Arguably the restrictions
have provoked and challenged perfumers into becoming more inventive in their
pursuit of perfumed effect and skin love. Others might argue the restrictions
are slowly killing the art and beauty of haute
parfumerie.
Caron, Guerlain
and Cartier have been amongst the worst offenders for me. It was so obvious
that classic Guerlain scents like Mitsouko
were shape-shifting. Cartier’s Must de Cartier and Santos were eviscerated by ingredient changes. Caron’s Tabac Blond, Royal Bain de Champagne, Narcisse
Noire were all weakened by a lowering of standards in raw materials and a loosening
of formulae. But at counters, this was constantly denied. I remember being
informed at one counter that perhaps I no longer understood Guerlain fragrances
and the glazed geisha behind the counter suggested I try Chanel.
On the
other hand it is well nigh on impossible to recreate some the great fragrances
of the past, so Houses and their perfumers have attempted to bridge the gap in
time with fragrances that evoke a spirit and essence of the original. The
re-working of Arpège in 1993 by
Hubert Fraysse is a dramatic, full-bodied fragrance that has paid very careful
attention to the 1927 original by André Fraysse and Paul Vacher. It is not the
same Arpège made for Jeanne Lanvin’s
daughter’s 30th birthday, but somehow it manages to convince you how women might
have felt smelling the original. This is a very clever trick and incredibly
hard to pull off.
All these
attempts at reformulation have their points of interest. It can be fascinating
to see how other perfumers have interpreted the work of their predecessors. Some
argue it is merely copying, passing something off as an old classic, in the
manner of art forgers churning out Picassos, Rembrandts or Lowrys. Some see it
as an act of love, revisiting beloved themes and allowing us a glimpse of bygone
perfumed tastes. Others look at it as homage, revisiting the work of master
perfumers, trying to understand the mysteries of some of the world’s most
complex and fascinating fragrances. The approach is varied, some perfumers
strive to honour the formulae, the essence of the juice, others try and
encapsulate the spirit of the original, the olfactory environment surrounding
the initial release. Sometimes it works, sometimes not.
Recent
Dior releases including Diorama and Diorling have been done rather well I
think, re-orchestrated with discretion and integrity. A lot has been written about
their authenticity and relationship to the originals, but I feel that is
somehow missing the point. An element of homage is at play here, an attempt to show
respect to the groundbreaking and pioneering beauty of the original work while
interpreting them for a modern audience and working within IFRA guidelines.
Diorling has always held a special place in the heart
of leather lovers and those that had swathed themselves in the legendary
original formula had never really forgotten its strange and ruthlessly structured
brilliance. Even before its actual release a lot of perfume lovers got very hot
and bothered about how poor the re-launch would be and how sacrilegious it was
to be toying with one of the greatest leather scents of all time.
I have
learned to wait and see with Dior, François Demachy has produced some
delightfully respectful re-orchestrations and his newer creations pay homage to
a carefully preserved image of pretty vintage Dior. The new re-orchestration of
Diorling is part of the Les Créations de Monsieur Dior
collection, Demachy’s thoughtful and reverential wanderings through Dior’s
extensive archives. Originally created by Paul Vacher in 1963, Diorling ( supposedly a play on the
English word Darling…)was the first
posthumous scent to be released after the lamented death of Monsieur Dior. It
was a homage to the Le Style Anglais,
the discreet charms of tweed, leather and pearls, worn at balls, in vast empty
country piles or slumming it in the unsettled vibrancy of 60’s London. This was
a time when the capital was the epicentre of style, where trends collided with
explosive thought-provoking force. Barriers eroded and the sexes played with
the ambiguity of expression. Dior had already scandalised with his New Look across the Channel, provoking
outrage and shock with controversial hemlines and silhouettes.
For the
gentry, sartorial life seemed undisturbed but for minor upsets in hemlines and
collar lengths. Their refined style rarely changed, the staple wardrobe of
knocked back cloth decay, heirloom parures, brogues, tweed skirts, leather
gloves, hats, riding boots and millinery still reigned. The original 1963 Diorling was a tribute to this pretty unshakable
refinement, an innate sense of inbred, shrugged-on chic that stood unflinching
in the face of tumult and contemporary assault. The leather was much more forceful
in the Vacher version, striding upfront, a whiff of muck and smoke on the
riding boot. The all important Dior triumvirate of rose, jasmine and lily of
the valley was brutally aristocratic and aloof, shot through with the
countryside verdancy of mulchy, down to earth hyacinth with its reek of wet
bluebell woods, damp oakmoss and bark. A delicious sensual chypré – dry and
erotically charged as only things lost forever in time can be.
I had a
lover for a while whose mother gave him a beautiful limited edition
metal-encased vintage Diorling for
his 21st birthday. He was an old (and fabulously camp) soul in a lithe and
bitter body. Above all I remember the shock of green leather on his dancer’s
skin, almost repellent initially, lying under the canopy of mesmerising floral
notes. I was way too young to really appreciate the complexities of such a
classic scent but I was surprised by how my memory of it surfaced again when I
started wearing Demachy’s elegant echo.
This time
around Diorling’s leather is more
underplayed, a softer tonal effect, appearing after the floral notes. The
bergamot in the head gives the opening of the scent a shivering lift and
sparkle, a genuine burst of joy, followed by Demachy’s modern addition of
jasmine to swell the heart. This has added a huge sense of beauty and softness
to the new version of Diorling,
really rounding off any rough edges and I’m smelling galbanum and some soft
spice, cinnamon perhaps. The patchouli in the base anchors the new formula in
the modern day, lending the structure dirt and roots while the more subdued
leather facet takes time to warm up and rise through the preceding materials.
New Diorling is wonderfully desiccated, with
the most dusky and capacious drydown. The initial rather feminine decorum soon
gives way to a much more ambiguous persona – one of grace, pulchritude and
whipcracking bitchery. I like the mix of Jane Birkin, Lady Diana Cooper, Tom of
Finland and Christine Keeler all rolled into one gorgeous leather chypré with a
hint of fetishism and tweed thrown in for good measure. Honourably re-fashioned by François Demachy Diorling smells bloody amazing. It’s been a while since I wore it
properly and for the life of me I can’t imagine why I have been away from it
for so long. I had forgotten how beautifully old and sexy it smells. So many
vintage style chyprés smell really porny on guys, the butch tailoring and oaky
ambiguity now seem so much more suited to the boys rather than any of the piss
poor attempts at modern fougères, once the classic guy standard, now so
emasculated and oddly feminized with sugars, fruits and candied sweat.
I know the
new Diorling is different from the
vintage Paul Vacher scent, but that has gone forever. There is sensual meat
on the resurrected bones. The juice feels substantial and realistic, a genuine
attempt to honour a classic perfume. There is love and reverence in the mix,
but also a sense of innovation, an understanding that times change and perfume
must adapt and reflect the complex mores and attitudes surrounding them. Demachy’s
Diorling is a subtle, dirty lover
with secrets and leathered subterfuge. I am more than happy to spend hours lost
in the reverie of whipcracks, floral fade and glamour.
For more information on Les Créations de Monsieur Dior, please click below:
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