(Brigitte Bardot, a star, in orange)
Perfumer Andy Tauer
I’ve tried a couple of orange perfumes lately. (Bond no 9 Little Italy and Atelier Cologne Orange Sanguine) Both point out how difficult it is to build and maintain a predictable orange note. I can’t think of anyone who has cracked the orange riddle. *
Until now, that is. Andy Tauer has found a solution to the orange dilemma.
The two perfumes noted above tried to treat it like a lemon and make Eau de Cologne out of it. Citrus is bright, and citrus olfactory notes are volatile. Focusing on the lightness but trying to make it last feels a bit desperate, like the search for an eternal appearance of youth. It’s the Red Shoes approach. Keep dancing and maybe you’ll convince yourself of everlasting youth.
Tauer’s solution seems more realistic but no more prosaic, and likely more repeatable to anybody who would care to investigate (ie. imitate). He neither candies the orange, nor tries to make a cologne out of it. He preserves it. In stretching out the life of the orange, Orange Star trades some of the fruit’s brightness for a luscious hint of salt, but in finding endurance it also appears to have concentrated the flavor. Playing with depth and thickness instead of sweetness, Tauer fastens citrus to amber, and finds a middle ground that is both refined and lasting. With amber’s inherent lushness Orange Star glows more than it shines. Perhaps it has less wattage than a short-lived cologne, but it also has a lithe, like sun-kissed-skin quality that makes it lavish.
* (Come to think of it, I do know another solution to the orange problem perfumery. Robert Piguet Baghari seems to keep a shadowy, candied orange alive forever but this kind of magic seems to have a Faustian quality to it, so I’ll leave it be.)