Jo's Scent Notes: Hermès Barénia

So, here’s a weird one. I’m wearing a fragrance on which I get complimented, repeatedly, every time I wear it out. ‘Oooh, you smell great!’ ‘What perfume are you wearing?’ ‘Wow, what an amazing smell!’

And yet, I can barely smell it on my own skin. I love Hermès Barénia at first spritz, enjoying its cool, mossy, almost a metallic, cold edge. I like it as it warms up, too, becoming soft, buttery, supple and suede-like, with just a hint of fruitiness – boozy fruits, like raisins soaking in alcohol, waiting to be churned into the most delicious ice cream.

As it unfolds, there’s a definite touch of the ‘Mummy’s handbag’ about this fairly recent launch – a genre of fragrance I adore. When I was working on a feature which was actually titled ‘The Scent of Mummy’s Handbag’, last autumn, Sali Hughes – who’s part of a ‘Perfume Pals’ WhatsApp group I belong to – commented: ‘I basically want to smell like the suede interior of a Park Avenue widow’s suede handbag.’ Well, me, too. (The fragrance’s name actually comes from a signature type of Hermès leather, originally used in their saddlery, now in handbags. So there you go.)

For whatever reason, though, I have to nuzzle myself very closely to enjoy Barénia, while others seem able to make it out from yards away.

Barénia is the first Chypre fragrance from this fabled luxury brand. Chypres are probably my favourite fragrance family of all, insanely unpronounceable (say it ‘sheep-rah’), and barely on anyone’s radar outside perfume’s inner circle. I suppose if I was to rename the family, it’s would simply be: ‘Mossy’.

Because that’s a signature of most Chypre fragrances – oakmoss. An ingredient – actually derived from a lichen – which has a glorious history, both in perfumery and in ritual; it was apparently used in earth-honouring ceremonies, in days of yore. (I’d have been right there, gathered round the fire, banging my drum, enjoying oakmoss in whatever form it was offered up.)

However, due to its potential for causing skin irritation – note, in some people – its use became restricted by perfume’s governing body, IFRA. Until, that is, clever boffins in perfume ingredient labs came up with a way of ‘fractionating’ oakmoss, taking out the allergenic bit. By mixing with other ingredients to fill the ‘hole’ left by taking out that element of oakmoss, it’s possible to recreate the hole. (Carrot oil and a resin called lentisque, for instance, are both used to do the job. And sorry to be nerdy here, but this side of fragrance fascinates me.)

Or – as with Barénia – a clever perfumer can use another note, to give the oakmoss signature. Apparently, Hermès’s resident perfumer Christine Nagel used roasted oakwood for the woody sensuality that oakmoss offers – and it works. Barénia has all the inherent sophistication that I love Chypres for. (Other examples range from Guerlain Mitsouko to Éditions de Parfums Frédéric Malle Portrait of a Lady via Sisley Eau du Soir and the Bottega Veneta original scent, whose disappearance I mourn deeply.)

If it wasn’t for the endless compliments (and who doesn’t love those?), I’d probably have shuffled this to the back of the dressing table. But they keep on coming.

And happily I’ve discovered a way that I can enjoy it, as the day wears on – which is to spritz my clothes. Fabric is the most brilliant ‘carrier’ of fragrance. I often wear scarves, and pulling them out of the drawer, I get a sort of miasma, a combination of everything I love to wear. Today, reaching for Barénia for a couple of work meetings in London for which I need to feel pulled-together and grown-up, I’ve sprayed it all over the front of my dress. (The one caveat with this is that you have to do a colour-test beforehand, if you’re wearing a pale fabric. Spritz a tissue, and if there’s no visible staining, it should be fine to spritz on pretty much anything but fine silk. This has a very pale yellow tint in the bottle, so I’d definitely do the colour-test before performing this trick on a white shirt.)

Anyway, I am smelling GORGEOUS. So I reckon that zooshing it generously on my clothes (and come to think of it, the interior of my actual handbag) is definitely the way forward, with this scent.

While waiting for the next compliment, from a perfect stranger.

From £59.50 for 30ml eau de parfum – buy here