Frédéric Malle Portrait of a Lady

Had Shakespeare’s Juliet been pondering Frédéric Malle’s Portrait of a Lady and not the Capulet-Montague blood feud when she asked, “What’s in a name?”, I suspect her conclusion couldn’t possibly have been “That which we call a rose by any other name would smell as sweet.” Not when Malle is responsible for the rose and name in question. No. There is meaning in the name here, though if you expect it to be something demur, poised and ultra-feminine, you would be wrong.

Taking inspiration from Henry James’ 1881 novel of the same name, Monsieur Malle and perfumer Dominique Ropion crafted in Portrait of a Lady an evocation of James’ most enchanting and maddening femme fatale, Isabel Archer. Forgoing any preconceived notion of the prudish femininity and romantic Shakespearean-esque renaissance revivalism of James’ Victorian era, Portrait of a Lady retraces Isabel Archer’s own path in affronting our expectations. Adopted by Malle and Ropion, this Archerian approach to expectation sees Portrait of a Lady dosed with modern perfumery’s highest concentration of rose absolute, then to counter any notion of potpourri, Valentine bouquets or girlish corsages, cuts it with equally heavy-handed patchouli and oriental accords. The result, an astonishing gamine rose fragrance more dramatic than anything before or since – a wonder of modern perfumery.

For all its masterfully tamed rosiness, it is comical to think then that Portrait of a Lady was not conceived as a rose perfume; the initial concept was for a feminine oriental composition built upon the structure of the resolutely masculine Geranium Pour Monsieur. What resulted was an iterative creation process between Malle and Ropion, that rumour has it resulted in hundreds of iterations – unheard of in today’s perfume laboratories – with the rose only being added, in increasingly potent dosages, in late iterations. And aren’t we lucky it did! Today, Portrait of a Lady contains the absolute of 400 Turkish roses per 100ml bottle, which goes part of the way in explaining the intrinsic fullness of the composition, but also its high cost. Materials of this kind and quality cost their weight in gold, and oftentimes more.

By way of an official notes list, Editions de Parfums Frédéric Malle offers:

Turkish rose, benzoin, cinnamon, sandalwood, patchouli, musk, frankincense

I certainly don’t detect benzoin on skin, though in a composition of materials in such largess proportions as this, it is quite possible the benzoin is just well hidden. In my experience, Portrait of a Lady wears closer to this:

Turkish rose, cassis, raspberry, cinnamon, clove, sandalwood, patchouli, frankincense, ambroxan, musk

There is no escaping the darkness of Portrait of a Lady. Its three pillar accords – rose, patchouli, and incense – are studies in the hypnotic, sensual characteristics of each, and each lend to the composition’s overall sense of drama. The rose, omnipresent as it is from top to base, opens Portrait of Lady in a thick haze of Shiraz-purple plushness intensified by the heavy jamminess of raspberry and ammoniac tart green pungency of cassis. On the surface, Portrait of Lady seems a barrage of rose and little else, though interestingly, Turkish (Damask) roses are pink, not wine red. This impression of darkness is an orchestration by Ropion of cinnamon and cloves’ smouldering presence in the opening, underscored by the increasing prominence of patchouli, though seemingly invisible behind the overall rosiness – a brilliant olfactory sleight of hand.

Into the heart, the richness of the rose is magnified further by the now equal prominence of patchouli. Characteristically dry and dusty with an earthiness that reigns in some of the opening’s overt qualities, namely those fruity facets, the patchouli acts as a dimly lit stage atop which the rose continues to take centre stage. Here, ecclesiastical frankincense and sandalwood sublimate the rose-patchouli pairing, but neither present with any real presence. Rather, the incense and sandalwood impart an oud-like character to the patchouli. It is at this stage that one might be excused for thinking of Portrait of a Lady as riff on the Middle Eastern rose-oud theme – and it often is – but it isn’t; there is no actual oud deployed in the composition. Here too, Portrait of a Lady is at its most masculine.

Only in the late drydown does Portrait of a Lady become less a rose, and more an oriental perfume in the classical sense. The rose is still there, as is the patchouli, but their presence is shadowed by the hefty ambroxan-forward third pillar accord of sweetly cinnamon-spiced sandalwood, white musk and smoky frankincense. That said, Portrait of a Lady is Malle/Ropion fragrance, and this lineage carries certain traits, namely supreme artistry, expansive sillage and tenacious longevity, the latter of which means the oriental drydown is a very long time coming.

For all its velvety rosiness, equally heavy-handed use of patchouli, incense and spiced woods mean Portrait of a Lady never steers overtly feminine; Frédéric Malle and Dominique Ropion have painted no virginal Victorian maiden here. Instead, Portrait of a Lady’s eponymous character is a modern-day Isabel Archer – a cosmopolitan gamine of the sort once written by James, photographed on the arm of Yves Saint Laurent or walking the Alber Elbaz-era runways of Lavin, who today sips Turkish coffee at Hôtel Costes with her bevvy of impeccably dressed friends.

As an aside: the name apart, Portrait of a Lady is equally fit for masculine wear as it is feminine. Innumerable are the occasions I have been asked by Uber drivers, stopped by passers-by, or chased out of restaurants by husbands sent to ask the name of my fragrance.

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Year of Release: 2010

Creative Direction: Frédéric Malle

Perfumer: Dominique Ropion

Alternatives: Juliette Has A Gun Lady Vengeance, Tom Ford Noir de Noir

Available: MECCA Cosmetica and www.fredericmalle.com from $341, 50ml