‘Masculine exhalations are, as a rule,
stronger, more vivid, more widely differentiated than those of women. In the
odour of young men there is something elemental, as of fire, storm, and salt
sea.’
Helen Keller
This is the second
time in recent years I have been surprised by a Floris perfume. I’m not saying
there is anything mediocre about the collection but the perfumes and colognes
and Foxy have never quite clicked. Perhaps I have just spent enough time with
them to see or sniff beyond a perceived mantle of traditional respectability
and just a little too vintage heritage that is both its raison d’être and
perhaps too it’s weak point. Interestingly though things are carefully shifting
and altering at Floris, renovations, brave launches, subtle brand and store
edits, tweaks to the PR atmosphere and promotion of the house.
All this is
happening slowly. Slow is good, it allows for adaptation, appreciation and
reconciliation. It also demonstrates an awareness on behalf of Floris that
certain things needs to change but only permissible in a discreet honest way,
nothing outré or misleading.
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| Foxy's Floris... (Image ©TSF) |
It is a relief to
see Floris elegantly alive, the other main English perfume house Penhaligon’s
sold its independence a couple of years ago to Puig along with sister-house
L’Artisan Parfumeur and both have been fundamentally altered in the process.
Time is in many ways
fortuitous for another genuinely British perfume house with royal warrant approval
to self-reflect and assiduously, stylishly reasserts itself. It was Floris’
seriously amazing Honey Oud and Leather Oud perfumes from the Private
Collection in 2014 that originally alerted to Floris again.
They stopped me in my foxy tracks. Originally Harrods and online exclusives I was hugely impressed and more than a little surprised by the duo; I had been a Malmaison lover but otherwise I had forgotten most of my experiences chez Floris. I was impressed by both the oud offerings but fell hard for the Honey Oud, obsessed as I am by all things apian, buzzed, waxen and honeyed. I reviewed both ouds for Cafleurebon and before I did, wondering if was worth doing so, I asked myself if Floris was just another house allowing itself to get caught up in the ever burgeoning oud mood. Houses and brands everywhere are creating oud-themed perfumes as seemingly now must-have additions to the heavier end of the oriental canon in order to entice and please the Middle Eastern and Russian clientele.
They stopped me in my foxy tracks. Originally Harrods and online exclusives I was hugely impressed and more than a little surprised by the duo; I had been a Malmaison lover but otherwise I had forgotten most of my experiences chez Floris. I was impressed by both the oud offerings but fell hard for the Honey Oud, obsessed as I am by all things apian, buzzed, waxen and honeyed. I reviewed both ouds for Cafleurebon and before I did, wondering if was worth doing so, I asked myself if Floris was just another house allowing itself to get caught up in the ever burgeoning oud mood. Houses and brands everywhere are creating oud-themed perfumes as seemingly now must-have additions to the heavier end of the oriental canon in order to entice and please the Middle Eastern and Russian clientele.
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| Foxy's Honey Oud sample |
While the demand for
oud fragrances and being a London brand, Floris took their time joining the
agarwood parade. The undeniably rich smooth finish of both compositions indicated
meticulous application of formulation and a definite avoidance of generic
synth-oud crowd-friendly scent. Honey Oud
and Leather Oud smelled like
shards of heritage Floris, wood, leather, old shops, saddles, riding boots,
beehives, honey; but also sharply modern, fumed and metallic with the oud
suggesting something ancient and unsettling, something very un-Floris, sensual
and smeared.
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| Foxy's Leather Oud sample |
By concentrating on
pronounced mead-like honey and fresh tack leather notes infused with a
naturally suggestive and sweetish oud note that has none of the aggressive
edges or throat scratching facets of some cheaper shock tactic agarwood, Floris
has succeeded in maintaining an eccentrically British essence alongside what is
essentially an profoundly oriental character. In essays since Honey Oud I always cite it as one of the
finest examples of golden animalic honey and humming waxy bees. It is an
exceptional scent.
 |
| ©Floris |
Now, there is 71/72 a new and very moreish aromatic
cologne style scent, a unique collaboration between Floris and Turnbull &
Asser, the Saville Row bespoke tailors and shirt makers. Interestingly, years ago,
Turnbull & Asser had a house fragrance made for them by Penhaligon’s,
resembling a none-too subtle mix of Blenheim
Bouquet and the bitter lime-slashed Douro
Eau de Portugal.
Turnbull & Asser
date back to 1885, founded by Reginald Turnbull and Ernest Asser. The flagship
store is in Jermyn Street, Piccadilly and they have a long and distinguished
history as tailors and dressers to men of discerning style and of course
discreet purse. London tailoring is a quiet yet deeply competitive world and
Turnbull & Asser have a much-coveted Royal Warrant as a shirtmaker to HRH
The Prince of Wales. The brand started outfitting Sean Connery’s sensually
cruel Bond with dress shirts with what became known as cocktail or Portofino
cuffs where the cuffs were turned and buttoned back as opposed to using
cufflinks.
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| Turnbull & Asser Head of Design Dean Gomilsek-Cole Image©TheRake (apologies for darkening your background...) |
Ali Al-Fayed bought
the house in 1980 and his son James Fayed is the current owner; he broke with
tradition and brought in a Head of Design, a role that had never existed before
at Turnbull & Asser; this is currently held by the roguishly handsome and scrupulously
attired Dean Gomilsek-Cole. Along with Menswear Designer, the über-suave tie-making Shaun Gordon, this duo have to all intents and purposes infiltrated and very carefully altered and repositioned the brand to reflect not just
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| Shaun Gordon, Menswear Designer Turnbull & Asser |
Floris is a much
older proposition, dating back to 1730, founded by a Menorcan in London called
Juan Famenias Floris and his wife Elisabeth at 89 Jermyn Street. The house has
traded continually in this location and a second store in Ebury Street in Belgravia
only opened in 2012. Juan, like many purveyors of scent of the time started out
as a barber to the gents and dandies of Piccadilly, but Floris legend has it
that he pined desperately in cold, wet London for the sun-drenched citrus
aromas of his birthplace, orange blossom, lemons, limes and bergamot. And so
the House of Floris was born of one man’s yearning for the scents of home that
he recreated, bottled and sold to London’s discerning elite.
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| Floris at 89 Jermyn Street London (image©Floris) |
The continual
longevity of Floris (The eighth and ninth generation of family are involved in
the business) I think can be attributed to a deep sense of loyalty some clients
have with the discretion and solidity of the house along with the recognisable
quality and personality of the Floris colognes and perfumes themselves. In a
Q&A on the Floris blog, Edward Bodenham, a direct descendent of Juan Floris
and current Director of Perfumery says:
‘We are always evolving, so you have to be
experimental and explorative when working on new fragrances in just the same
way that my forefathers were in their day. That said, I do feel that somehow
there is a certain Floris thread, whatever it may be, that runs through our
entire collection.’
For the most part,
Floris is gently resistant to trends, devotedly composing atmospherically
precise floral and aromatic scents such as the lovely Stephanotis from 1786, Limes
from 1832, the reconstructed Malmaison
in 2000, Sirena in 2011 and Seringa from 1992. I really liked
Shelagh Foyle’s Madonna of the Almonds
that launched in 2009, a limited edition perfume inspired by Marina Fiorato’s
book of the same name. Delicious bitter almond note bedded into almond blossom,
succulent jasmine, fruited smoke and wood.
 |
| Archival Floris bottles & ledgers in the museum section of 89 Jermyn Street (image©Floris) |
Floris is considered
by a lot of people to be a little old fashioned but I am beginning to realise
in this current olfactive climate of schizophrenic niche and the rallying force
of mainstream perfumery that traditional and steadfast is perhaps more radical
and intriguing than most of the twisted, flashy nonsense passing itself off as
niche perfumery, desperate to seduce, shock and assault our senses. It is not
all like this of course, but it is becoming increasingly hard to remain happy
and motivated by the cynical surge of contradictory movements within the niche
world.
Both Floris and
Turnbull & Asser are intriguing blends of tradition, sensibility and studied
resistance. Both are positioned on Jermyn Street and pride themselves on proud
heritage, continuity and discretion. The client is at the very heart of what
they do; this may so obvious but you would be surprised by little concern is
actually paid to customer in modern retail. I saw this happen first hand in a
brand that very firmly obsessed over the needs of clients and went out of its
way to delight them then after its buy out changed tack and went purely for the
money instead and the customer experience was eroded to the point of offensive.
A lot of British brands in particular have gone this way despite claiming the
opposite. You only have to visit the so-called high luxury perfume stores in
London’s Burlington Arcade to quickly realise how unimportant the everyday client
is. They are dismissive and make huge assumptions based on visual impressions.
It is not pleasant but hardly atypical; shopping in Harrods and Harvey Nichols
is no different.
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| Turnbull & Asser white shirts |
There is an innate
understanding and pleasure taken in the product at these two heritage
establishments, pride that manifests itself in the elegant and careful finish
applied to brand oeuvre, be it rose mouth wash and vintage scent at Floris or
bespoke suiting and paisley silk dressing gowns at Turnbull & Asser.
As I mentioned
earlier 71/72 is the street number of the Turnbull & Asser flagship store on
Jermyn Street and serves as the direct inspiration for a truly elegant and
beautifully wearable interpretation of classic masculine perfumery tropes.
Touches of Casino Royale Bond Craig
channel Goldfinger Connery mingled
with a reserved, confident and ruthlessly tailored set of materials.
Creating a scent
that harmonises and captures the essence of both collaborates, allowing both
players to express some part of themselves is actually incredibly hard.
Obviously the main focus of 71/72 is
Turnbull and Asser but as the perfumers, Floris need to sign the work in a
subtle, yet distinctive way. It has been designated as part of Floris’ Private Collection
that includes the Leather Oud and Honey Oud, Cherry Blossom, Bergamotto di Poisitano, Sirena, 1976, 1962, 1988
and Jermyn Street. 71/72 started life
as a very private small batch hand-poured perfume in 2015 commissioned by the
owner of Turnbull & Asser and available exclusively to only a select few
insiders, VIPs and friends of the brand. Increasing clamour for the scent led
to the formulation and official launch/re-launch of this current manifestation
of 71/72.
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| Foxy's Floris (Image©TSF) |
The scent is
ostensibly the capture of the Turnbull & Asser boutique filtered through
the Floris style. In 2010 Sarah Rotheram, the then CEO at Penhaligon’s took a
bold and fortuitous decision to have French master perfumer Bertrand Duchaufour
create Sartorial, inspired explicitly
by the cutting rooms, paper patterns, smoke-impregnated woodwork, scissors,
machine oil, tweed and beeswax blocks for thread-coating of Patrick Grant’s
Norton & Sons on Saville Row. It was pretty shocking and weird at the time,
Bertrand essentially exploding and then re-stitching non-too reverential pieces
of the classic fougère structure. Unsettling amounts of metal-stained aldehydes
blast through the top, suggesting steam pressed cloth. Arguably it is the last
decent scent the brand made. Bertrand’s beautiful molten yellow Ostara, an ode to narcissus and earthen
spring might count if it hadn’t been axed.
71/71 is a subtler proposition; more fitted and thoughtful, perhaps a
bespoke suit that one has had for a while and now feels perfectly lived in,
shaped to the body. The structure of the scent is textbook classicism but in
this day and age of perfumed excess, show-off molecular aromatic, oriental room
clearance and unsubtle corporate copying this is a huge relief actually; 71/72 is a welcome composition, a quiet
beautifully balanced thing.
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| Foxy's Floris & tweed... (Image©TSF) |
The top notes are
citrus, a sharp sunny bergamot with the sweet hello of juicy mandarin. I like
the absence of lemon; for me it bears a stigma of cleaning and bathrooms and
unless handled with extreme caution, wit and talent it sets a somewhat generic
tone. Leave it to Aqua di Parma, it’s their bag and to be honest, no one will
ever do as well. Tom Ford and Estée Lauder can throw all they all they like at
Aqua di Parma with the brittle and vacant Neroli
Portofino family and its fellow faux Italian blue-toned citric entries in
the Private Blend Collection, but they smell empty, with desperate yearnings of
gaudy super yachts and year round tanning.
The addition of
juniper is important; a suggestion of gin botanicals but also a piquant crushed
stalkiness that marries well with the citrus notes and then forms a bridge with
the dove-grey lavender notes in the heart. Despite how we stigmatise lavender
today, it was traditionally always a men’s note in perfumery, vital in the
preparation of aromatic and fougère formulations. Sadly its once elegant mauve
dandy reputation has been besmirched by association with moth repellents, sleep
aids, old ladies, vintage calendars and air fresheners. Ridiculous really;
fresh sharp green lavender smells so shockingly beautiful and boldly amethyst.
Antonio Gardoni’s recent MEM used
five different varieties of lavender to complex, vitrine effect, creating a
scent of graphic shimmering purple articulation.
I have always found
thought that lavender lays down such beautiful texture in perfume, veins of
rubbed mauve haze. In 71/72, perfumer
Penny Williams has blended this in the heart with a sensitive and glowing duo
of jasmine and orris, both of which inject a sense of soft sunlight and dust
notes falling on polished wooden furniture. Orris is a naturally powdery facet
in perfumery with subtle violet vibes. It is achingly expensive due to the long
processes involved in the iris rhizome to butter/concrète stage but always always worth it.
It was actually
valued more for it excellent fixative qualities over its aroma at first and
indeed this singular aspect of orris still makes it very valuable to perfumers,
exalting other materials around it, thus providing stability and exquisite
nuanced tensions within compositions. A very careful dose has been calibrated
for the heart; I imagine resonating with the same intensity of purpose applied
to hand-stitched collars, vents, buttonholes, lapels, sizing and cuffs creating
a discreetly personal bespoke look.
The oud has been
used to add incense warmth, suggesting comfort and ease to help you realise you
are in expert tailoring hands. The often now familiar mainstream duty free reek
of metallic locker room oud is thankfully absent here; as it warms up, you
realise how woody 71/72 is, with
sandalwood in the base and Boisamber, a glossy synth-wood amber material with
beautiful floralizing qualities. All this infused with a surprising
frankincense note that raises gentle ghosts of worn wooden pews in smitten
redolent churches.
The overall ambience
of 71/72 is one of innate style, a
sense of hushed luxury, appreciated by those who like honest, well-made things.
This is not about having millions in the bank, the glare of oligarch dosh or
the bloated excess of Philip Green and his plastic, yacht-lounging ilk. This is
more concerned with a private knowledge of elegant things and continuance of quite
traditions. Both parties involved in 71/72
have elements of this, that word of mouth awareness rather than the vulgarity
of glossed-up advertising and editorial.
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| Robert Clark, Head Cutter at Turnbull & Asser Photographed in 1955 by Slim Aarons |
Turnbull & Asser
do have the slightly garish modern Bond affiliation, which I find a little
jarring as the Craig movies are brutal and lacking in any true sense of style.
We won’t look back on Craig’s Bond as any genuine fashion innovator, more as
someone who can straighten a cuff after pulverising someone. Casino Royale had its moments and they
really belonged to the ravishing Eva Greene and cruelly sensual Mads Mikkelson.
But it’s a collaboration that works I guess, providing a welcome edge of taut
masculine modernity to the brand.
I have always
admired the resolutely old-fashioned collection quality of Floris, but
perfumery is a fickle business and while trends and moods undoubtedly do play a
small role in the movement of perfume sales, overall it is essentially a smoke
and mirrors exercise orchestrated cynically and biasedly by PR companies,
bloggers and the fashion press. A certain strata and style of perfumery just
sells despite anyone opinion, immune to criticism because they smell good and
people are fiercely loyal to them. I’ve come across quite a few since I’ve been
writing and they bring me huge pleasure.
These brands just
have to hold their course and if possible, wisely adapt to change and react
intelligently and gracefully to competitors. True elegance rarely goes out of
style; I know sometimes amid the relentless crass blare of so-called street
culture and the never-ending cycle of repetitive and increasingly irrelevant
couture shows it might seem like identity has become merely a commodity to be
hustled and pitied. There will always be people desire something that little
bit more rarefied, understated, outwith the flow of trend and prediction,
redolent of hushed and defended heritage.
True heritage in
retail is so precious; some brands spend a fortune creating an image of
faux-lineage. Aspinal of London, Jack Wills and even Ralph Lauren to a certain
degree co-opt shields, crests and mottos to suggest a heritage they don’t own.
Floris and Turnbull & Asser have no need of this affectation and pretention
to grandeur. They are the real heritage deal, accumulating a potent yet quiet
history of archives, warrants, prestige and memories rolling back centuries.
71/72 marries the
collective nostalgia and weight of carefully controlled luxury to be an eau de
parfum of restful seductive strength. I surprised myself by loving the aromatic
waltz around lavender and jasmine and the subsequent fall into handsome woods and
gentle burnished oud. Ladies or gentlemen? I would honestly say gentlemen, it
has that delicious mellow, weary crumpled aroma mi associate with suited men on
trains and planes as their the remnants of cologne and deodorant fade into
exertion, sweat and cloth. But…I think some ladies will just love it, perhaps
recognising in the fougère style an echo of the chypré, the most ruthlessly
tailored perfume structure of all. Perhaps the basenotes are a little heavy for
the ladies but who am I to say, after all gender definitions have been
crumbling for years now as we all search for a place in the world and that
place can be scented however we want it to be.
I’m glad to have the
chance to revisit and explore Floris again, I will pay much more attention now,
treat myself to that bottle of Honey Oud
I’ve always promised myself. It is a smart and stylish house, talking quietly
and successfully about refined olfaction to a new generation of intrigued clients,
weary of bright and fleeting mainstream excess. Turnbull & Asser have
chosen wisely and I wish this wonderful collaboration all the best in the
world.
TheSilverFox 8
October 2017
*This essay was based on a sample of 71/72 kindly supplied by The Known Company, all Foxy words and opinions are of course my own.
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