Angeliki, Bernie, and the Return of the Retro Chypre

Sometimes your favorite perfumes come into your life by complete chance and not by a methodical chosen sample set, a subtle or not so subtle nudge by an Instagramer, or as often the case for me, a rabid note or material hunt (see narcissus, mimosa, and more recently, blue lotus).

Angelos Creations Olfactives’s Angeliki came to me in a little velvet bag of premium artisanal perfume samples that a friend didn't like and graciously passed on. I had only seen the brand previously from their Lucky Scent profile. The bottles were chic and small (30 ml). The style was refined and not a gilded package monster. They appeared simple and elegant, bearing the cursive logo stretched across the front.

I came to learn that the Greek owner and perfumer, Angelos Balamis, was previously a YouTube perfume reviewer. This always sends up instant red flags, which is a bit unfair as there are some good examples of reviewer turned brand owner/perfumer (Les Abstraits to name just one). He started perfuming in 2014, says his website and it looks like he launched his first perfume in 2018, so I felt relieved that it probably wasn’t a venture capitalist cash grab brand of the post pandemic perfume era (P.P.P.E). Another reassuring indicator is that he identifies as indie and not “luxury niche.”

His perfume, Angeliki, is a tribute to his grandmother, Angeliki or Αγγελική in Greek, which is one of the sweetest things a perfumer can do and an opportunity normally afforded only to indie perfumers. See James from Filigree and Shadow's lineup for other equally meaningful and beautiful dedication perfumes. Angeliki, the woman, lived to 104 years of age and each May 21 (her birthday), Balamis releases 104 bottles in her honor. I was lucky enough to snag #18 of 104 this year.

Here are the notes for Angeliki from the website:

Tête: Apricot, Pomelo (Corse), Bergamote (Calabria), Black Pepper (Madagascar), Aldehydes.

Cœur: Wisteria, Freesia, Lilac, Jasminum Grandiflorum Absolute (Egypt), Rose Damascena Absolute (Turkey), Muguet, Rosewood (Brasil), Oakwood, Carnation.

Fond: Oakmoss Absolute, Musk, Castoreum (Reco.), Civet (Synthetic), Buddha Wood (Australia), Black Sacra (Oman), Agarwood (Malaysia), Beeswax Absolute (Laos), Ambrette Seed Oil (Peru), Tonka Beans Tincture, Benzoin (Siam), Tolu Balsam, Opoponax Oil (Ethiopia), Patchouli EO & Absolute, Labdanum Absolute (Spain), Santalum Spicatum (Australia), Santalum Album (East India).

From this extensive shopping list, it’s clear that he prizes premium materials and provides provenance information, either for transparency or a low key boast or maybe both. It’s also clear from the freesia, wisteria, muguet, and lilac that he uses mixed media, as those plants do not lend themselves to extraction or at least easily and economically.

Angeliki could go in any number of different directions based on these notes alone. If I could only choose four words to describe this perfume, it would be: Big Floral Retro Chypre.

This perfume took me to not a grandmother, but to a great aunt. My Aunt Bernie (I never used "great") was my grandmother's sister and someone who I didn't know all that well. Perhaps this makes it easier to essentialize and easily pair with a perfume. My maternal grandmother died when I was young so Bernie and one other aunt stood in for her at least in my little mind. This perfume encompasses everything about her. As a smoker, Aunt Bernie smelled of cigarettes and perfume, two potent ingredients of a deep long-term scent memory. Similarly, Angeliki is smoky, but not in that modern phenolic forest fire or hickory smoked bacon way. It's also not ashy in that vintage Cabochard way either. That is, I don't sense the isobutyl quinoline that the perfumer Bernard Chant loved so much. Instead, Angeliki has a stuffiness that I associate with someone who wears perfume to cover up smoking. The cigarettes and smoke are backgrounded, perhaps the 1:00 pm smell of a 10:00 am cigarette break. Like Bernie, Angeliki has a jovial husky smoker's voice. There's no daintiness to this fragrance. The lily of the valley and other spring florals that I get are not a forest nymph romp in the dew-dropped grass; it's more like a quick nod to Miss Dior before moving on to thicker things. Yet the florals do not feel hastily thrown together or needlessly dense, like something an amatuer would make (ahem like me). Most are indistinguishable if taken separately, but all together also add a touch of freshness to this primarily stuffy-in-a-good way perfume. The rose, while listed, seems lost, but I often find that when using natural rose materials it simply adds a touch of fruitiness and less of a "hey, it's a sharp rose" in a floral mix. Along with the apricot and touch of freesia, the fruit-laced rose helps to balance the white florals. To me, the muguet and jasmine fight for prominence depending on the day. When I first smelled it months ago, I was convinced that it contained jasmine sambac due to the indolic buzz it creates. Now, all I smell is a muguet tinged heart with a round lilac. Lilac always takes the sharp astringency and blunts it in the nicest of ways. If this is any indication, I suspect all the florals will make an appearance as I get to know this better.

Angeliki has a distinct retro feel, as did Bernie and my entire crumbling extractive resource-based hometown. She seemed like she was permanently stuck in the early to mid-1970s. Even if you don't find your own 1960s or 1970s reference with this perfume, you can admit that it doesn't belong to this day and age. The fillers and stretchers that create a nearly transparent feel are nowhere to be found here. The modern notion that one needs to smell every note listed (and clearly) dies a quick death in Angeliki. This ties it even closer to the vintages of the past where it was less about "here's jasmine, here's rose" and more about the overall effect.

Sometimes cultural revivalists create art that is in direct conversation/confrontation with the past. These artists seem to build vividly retro reflections, as if to distill the past down to its essence and in turn flatten the anachronistic rough spots. Angeliki does that, but it doesn't feel like it's trying to outdo the big chypres of the 1960s and 1970s. One the contrary, Balamis seems to tap into a generalized vintage perfume current while avoiding any specific location or time. Whereas Papillon's Dryad seems to outdo Vol de Nuit (in my opinion), Angeliki doesn't have a ready point of challenge. It's vaguely and gauzily 1960s and 1970s, as if the techs at the Sears Portrait studio blurred the edges of this perfume as it looks over its shoulder into the distant future. It almost feels like Angeliki rushed headlong through time grabbing parts of classic perfumery: oak moss and subtle diffusive fruit from the Rochas Femme and Mitsouko, suffocating amber and semi-skank from Tabu and Youth Dew, lily of the valley from the 1960s Diors, before stopping at the ingredient-obsessed artisans of today to grab a handful of oud and expensive base materials.

The rest of the similarities between person and perfume fade into vague associations and impressions. From her burnt umber-hued clothing to the piled up dyed bouffant black hair that showed its true color at the roots, Bernie and Angeliki, the perfume, both seem to have an autumnal color palette. Bernie didn't have much money, but was always put together and respectable. It was clear that she put thought into her appearance and there was a certain downhome glamour about her. Angeliki, on the other hand, has this in spades. Angeliki exudes a classiness or maybe cosmopolitanism that didn't really exist in my hometown. Unfortunately, I don't think that I can associate Bernie with one certain vintage perfume, that is, I couldn't pick it out of a perfumed police line up, as Jaimie Q did with Youth Dew (see the first issue of the Scent Strip), but it’s more of an overall vintage feel that I remember.

What strikes me most about Angeliki is its invitation for closeness. It brings you in. That’s not to say that it’s a snuggly musk skin scent. At 25% concentration and an even more potent "feel," it’s one of the biggest fragrances I own. I often complain about the tightness of higher concentration perfumes and advocate for space or just a hint of transparency. For Angeliki, though, this tightness works in its favor to create a warmth, made more for furs and nights in the city and less for turning up to steno pool day job with a Champagne hangover. While I usually avoid gendered language and impressions, these images are hard to separate from the perfumer’s intention. This perfume is the literal epitome of a "grandma scent." More than a few fragrance enthusiasts (not just men) will turn up their noses at this one for its dense florals or classic chypre structure. It will be too classically French for the exotic material folks, oud heads, and eastern perfume lovers. It will be too old school for the new vanilla gourmand gang. It will be too tame for the modern experimental creatives and probably too new for the vintage folks. I don't quite fit into any of these categories or at least neatly.

Papillon and Rogue have mastered this revisionist style of perfume, creating carefully layered and beautiful perfumes while avoiding cheap gimmicks and trends. Angelos Creative Olfactives is right at home in this world. Balamis is committed to reimagining classic perfumery just as much as I am committed to seeking it out. Angeliki will not move everyone like it did me, but I think people will still be able to appreciate this well constructed perfume that skillfully looks to the past not to copy a specific perfume, but to inhabit a composition approach or philosophy of a bygone era.

NB: for those who saw the beautiful first issue of the Scent Strip, this is anonymous perfume listed in the missed connections section.