Earlier this week I heard that MakeupAlley.com, the message board and online community founded in 1999, is shutting down at the end of September. This news brings out some really deep feelings in me. I created a MakeupAlley.com account in June 2003 hoping to learn more about a newly launched fragrance, and I ended up making so many long-lasting friendships — and, in 2006, finding out about an opening for a writer at this very blog — along the way.
Even if I hadn’t met so many special people through that site, I still would have learned more about perfume than I ever could have expected — new fragrances, vintage perfumes, everything from drugstore cheapies to cult classics to hard-to-obtain “niche” lines. I certainly learned about Ormonde Jayne on MakeupAlley, because the brand wasn’t available in the United States in those days. I’m not even sure how I did my initial sampling of the “OJ” (as we abbreviated it) fragrances I still know and love, like Ta’if and Champaca. Did another MUA member send me some hand-decanted sample vials in a swap? Or did someone circulate a sample set acquired on a London shopping spree?
In any case, I’ve kept up with the brand’s doings ever since, and made my own visit to the Ormonde Jayne boutique in London’s Royal Arcade about a year and a half ago. Tanger, which I’d describe as a neroli cologne with a candied ylang ylang note, is a new hot-weather favorite of mine. Yet there are still so many “OJ” fragrances I haven’t really experienced, so I’m currently filling in the gaps. Here are a few, launched over the past five years, that I’ve been appreciating lately.
I went through a short period of mourning for Ormonde Jayne’s now-discontinued Vanille d’Iris, so I was looking forward to trying Vanille des Afriques Intensivo, “the very definition of pedigree and heritage with its precious contents of Orris butter and an abundance of the aphrodisiac Madagascan vanilla absolute.” This is a fairly recent (2024) addition to Ormonde Jayne’s Four Corners of the Earth collection. Other notes include jasmine, magnolia and osmanthus; coriander, bergamot, carrot seed and pink pepper; cedar, vetiver, amber and musk.
Vanille des Afriques is a silky and refined interpretation of vanilla, with an opening of green-ish bergamot and accents of delicately musky carrot seed and piquant cardamom overlaying its creamy heart of vanilla and greenish-white floral notes. (If you like OJ’s Osmanthus, you should give this one a try, too.) I was able to wear Vanille des Afriques out in public on a warm day without feeling like I was overwhelming my fellow transit-riders; even my husband, a longtime loather of cloying gourmand fragrances, didn’t register that I was wearing a vanilla scent. Stealthy sweetness feels very satisfying! This isn’t a twin to Vanille d’Iris — the iris is pretty subdued here, possibly for reasons of cost or compliance? — but it’s a grown-up gourmand that otherwise does what it promises.
Intrigued by its description “the ultimate in soft powdery perfume,” I’ve also tried Babylonia (from 2022) for the first time. The ancient metropolis of Babylon was famed for, among other things, its wondrous (and possibly mythical) Hanging Gardens, so the name led me to expect something lush and green. Instead, this fragrance is more of an exuberant “fleurmand,” with notes including bergamot, davana, pink pepper and blackcurrant; iris, violets, bluebell and orange blossom; white musk, benzoin, vanilla and praline.
The idea of a sugary praline accord initially made fear something along the lines of Lancôme La Vie Est Belle (launched in 2012, so it’s something of a contemporary classic now?!), but fortunately, that’s not Babylonia’s story. Here, citrus and blackcurrant add an unexpected tanginess, and some springtime petals of orange blossom float past on the breeze. Davana, with its fruity-herbal, chameleon-like personality, bridges the scent’s development from these bright notes to a base of chewy-sweet resins and dusty vanilla. Babylonia takes some interesting twists and turns. I wouldn’t describe it as a predominantly powdery scent, I’m still not sure about the connection to the ancient world, but I’m enjoying it’s perfume-y journey.
Lastly, I’ve been wearing Xi’an (not shown; from 2020), an “amberesque” composition of notes including black pepper, nutmeg, cedar, rhubarb, musk and sandalwood. Xi’an is an airy spice scent, feather-light on the skin but still textured enough to keep me engaged. Despite its sprinkling of black pepper and nutmeg, this isn’t a heated kind of spice fragrance. There’s some kind of soft, earthy accord like damp soil underlying the cedar and sandalwood, and its rhubarb note plays a very quiet “green” role among the aromatic and woody notes. To my pleasant surprise, Xi’an feeels like walking into a deep forest just after rainfall and being able to inhale the surrounding scents of living wood. Just to be clear, this isn’t some attempt at a “photorealistic” bottling of a smell — Xi’an is definitely composed as a fragrance, but its craft is certainly inspired by nature.
I’ve worn each of these three fragrances multiple times over the past week or so and I’m looking forward to trying more. Xi’an, in particular, reminds me of the appeal that the new world of “niche perfumery” held for certain scent-lovers twenty years ago. At its best, Ormonde Jayne still offers fragrances of understated luxury, made with high-quality materials and touches of subtle creativity. That’s something worth seeking out.