Azemour les Orangers is the newest release by Parfum d’Empire. I’ve been eagerly waiting to try it and dear Tara came through and sent me her sample. Purportedly a real chypre, Azemour is called after a region in Morocco, where the perfumer spent part of his childhood.
Azemour les Orangers was created by Marc-Antoine Corticchiato in 2011 and includes notes of orange, grapefruit, mandarin, citron, coriander, cumin, black pepper, pink pepper, cassis, galbanum, neroli, geranium, orange blossom, rose, hay, moss, henna and iodine.
Azemour les Orangers includes all aspects of an orange tree, the fresh fruit, pulp and peel, the leaves, the blossoms, the bark, the earth the tree stands in, it is all there.
Starting fresh and like biting into a ripe orange, Azemour becomes very green, very quickly. Galbanum is there and an interesting spicy facet with not too much cumin. I am not a cumin fan, but I don’t find it very prominent here so it doesn’t bother me. (It bothered Tara, I believe.) The green darkens and deepens and the oakmoss becomes prominent, evoking damp soil and dark shadows.
Azemour les Orangers lasts for at least eight hours on me and has average sillage.
Now, in the deepest cold of winter it brings a ray of sunlight into my days, but it is by no means an easy to wear, happy-go-lucky perfume (there are other oranges for that for example Atelier Cologne Orange Sanguine or Malle Bigarade Concentrée), but a very grown-up, somber and dark chypre that means business.
I am glad a perfume like Azemour was created, and even if I am not in the mood for it every day, it is something I thoroughly enjoy wearing from time to time.
It lends the wearer an air of sophistication and maturity, an earnestness, a sense of purpose. For me Azemour is a perfume that helps me concentrate, and reminds me to keep my back straight and my ducks in a row. It is a bit like a strict teacher, who doesn’t make it easy for you but whose lectures you still remember years later and value for life.
The entire tree I can smell in Azemour les Orangers not only gives me the delicious fruit that conjures a smile on my face, but it is a strong tree, one I can lean on and that provides shade and shelter, should I need it.
It may seem severe and stern at times, hard and unyielding, but in the end you realize that this inability to bend and give way is for your own good. Sometimes you need something that endures without bowing, that holds without letting go.