Penhaligon's Vaara (B. Duchaufour 2013)

Think of a tale set in Rajasthan, at the indian frontier with Pakistan. I've never been to Rajasthan but from the pictures I've seen I imagine it as a breathless beauty, a land with such intense perfumes filling the air that's impossible to wash them off of your clothes as well as of your memory.

Vaara is a baby girl born in Jodhpur, in a dreamlike palace and she's the joy of her grandfather, His Highness the Maharadja Gaj Singh II who wanted to celebrate her birth with a perfume, an essence capturing the soul of the exotic gardens, the colorful spices and fabrics markets and his family's deep love and connection with his land. The wise Maharadja appointed the english renowned fragrance house Penhaligon's to make it, so they sent the master perfumer Sir Duchaufour to recreate this magic. Considering the extraordinary background, you can guess how much I was bursting with the curiosity to smell the result of four years of work.

Vaara opens with the fruity crispness of quince, lifted by a whiff of coriander. The pyramid lists also carrot and iris but I almost didn't get them on my skin that instead goes all the way to the heart floral simphony. The first movement is a delicate petals blooming, dewy peonies with their medicinal saffron inner and magnolias in the shade releasing their zesty freshness and their langurous, apricot-dashed milk. The second movement is a largo showing the solo instrument, rose singing here with the freshness of bulgarian rose and the sweetness of moroccan rose. The honeyed aura is comforting, empowered by the green accent of sandalwood as soft as a baby's skin.

Vaara is painted in watercolors and lovers of soft florals will like it for sure, nevertheless rose bushes and peonies didn't manage to evoke palaces and exotic gardens. Spices and gaudy silks vanished blown by the axe of olfactory correctness that bleached the perfumers palette to please a wider audience. So who was expecting a magnificent oriental will be disappointed by the third movement ending in a cloud of white musks with the helvetolide clean timber resounding with a pear-like fruity echo. Pity not having dared with a more evocatory base, maybe tinged by the urinous piquancy of honey or by a buttery iris. Instead Vaara is rendered as a beautiful floral, gentle and tidy like a french formal garden where even the birds sing quietly for fear of disturbing.