Opium
Yves Saint Laurent (1977)

Vintage EdT c. 1986

Opium caused quite a stir when it was released. On the U.S. side of the pond Estee Lauder was pissed off. Ms. Lauder and Co. thought Opium was a blatant copy of Youth Dew, and true they do have a lot in common. Upset enough that the following year they released Cinnabar for the one-up. On the Euro side of the pond, Opium’s strength and durability was unheard of, concentrated to what, today, would be considered an EdP (or even, dubiously, parfum) level. Couple that with its controversial name, grand and operatic nature yet massive diffusiveness, and it put the Eastern side of the Atlantic into a frenzy. I side more with the Euro proponents on this one. Opium is glorious. It’s not glorious anymore, but that is a different post. However, I do see why Lauder bemoaned and hissed at its creation. It is very much like Youth Dew, which I also love, but it is sufficiently different - mainly that it has a French chic and silken texture that isn’t present in the more rough-and-ready-Wild-West and even stronger Youth Dew.

Aldehydes abound throughout the perfume’s life, creating a soft and powdery texture that presents everything through a haze. Enter into the den, if you dare. The fruit, spice, and herb opening is luscious. The bitter orange zest, the hesperidics, the bay leaf and clove - they create this beautifully fragrant cloud that smells of the most exotic of North African or West Arabian dishes. Positively mouthwatering. You want it, you’re jonesing, badly. Then, rising up like an opium cloud to whisk you into inebriated ecstasy is a carnation forward heart, creamy and peppery and superbly musky, accented with smooth, round, aromatic cinnamon, a big slug of elegant and fruity roses, and myrrh smoke. Heady. Man, is this perfume heady. Be ready. We’ve been transported from earthly deliciousness to the mind-warping divine. We’ve OD’d though. We’ve done too much. We’re not just high, we’re slipping into an afterlife under a warm and massaging blanket as one of the best amber bases in the last fifty years takes us on a magical transport into eternity. This base is everything: sandalwood, cedar, labdanum, civet and musks, vanilla and tonka, patchouli, incense, vetiver, leather - everything that has ever been in an amber base is here but instead of a morass it’s a beautiful mosaic where you can’t tell where one tile/note ends and another begins, but they’re all there in perfectly rich, elegant, airy, celestial harmony.

I’ll forgo any drug or addiction references beyond this point; I can’t reduce this perfume to such depravity. But there is something about it, something that is “difficult”. Anyone who has owned this perfume in a real-deal vintage version will tell you that it is absolutely unconditional love, but sometimes it’s a bit much. It’s enormous, distracting in the best ways, grabbing hold of you with a death grip and not letting go, and there are moments when you say “I love you, but I can’t”. Living with Opium is a lot like having a toddler: there will be many times you “just can’t” with your toddler but even in those moments if anyone tried to take it from you, you’d kill them.

I recently purchased a 1.7 oz bottle of the reformulated Opium EdP. When I was a young professional and just out of Graduate School, I had an intern who habitually DOUSED herself in this stuff, the original formula. This was back in the early 1980s. I remember marveling at her confidence because while not quite my style, she smelled beguiling. But back then I remember ALSO receiving complaints about "how J**L smelled."

"Please speak with her about toning down her fragrance...it's just too much for this professional setting." And it was. But with this gal's long black hair, wispy bangs, heavy black eyeshadow and edgy attire, I remember feeling it somehow all fit. Asking her to stop the fragrance was like suggesting a full make-over and doing so seemed insulting.

This new formulation smells nothing like the original, at least as I recall the original's fragrance. I applied the new formulation a few hours back and I am still reeling from the overpowering spicy-citrus-floral opening. Clove, cinnamon, coriander...just SPICES everywhere. The opening smells like spices were dumped over orange peels and everything was left out in the sun to fester.

Then shortly, let's say 20-30 minutes in, it's "Hello FLORALS," also not in a good way. Overwhelmingly powerful, extremely strong WHITE FLORALS that (for me) border on becoming unbearable. CLOYING FLORALS, like loads of YLANG YLANG, lots of CARNATION and a whole lot of LILY OF THE VALLEY. I'm talking funeral-worthy florals. And spice. Lots 'n lots 'n lots of SPICE.

Needless to say, I am disappointed because I actually enjoyed the original, old formula. It's odd that I might be craving opoponax, amber, vanilla and patchouli but... Maybe these landing notes will emerge over time.

New formulation is strangely disappointing, to say the least.

Do you want to have an idea of how trends in the perfumery field have changed? well, compare the original Opium from 1977 with the male counterpart released in 1992 (if I remember correctly) and, between the two, tell me which one seems more feminine to you... the feminine is definitely more masculine than the masculine, yes! absurd huh? true opium is a perfume that today could easily be sold and worn for men, it is dense, resinous and spicy to die for, balsamic but NOT sweet. The resins used, of unquestionable quality, are not the modern chemical ones with a permeating and omnipresent sweetish scent. The scent always remains very warm and enveloping but at the same time very dry and sharp. Beautiful trail and persistence, never cloying, never sweet, but truly narcotic and opulent. It's a resinous spicy woody that's in a league of its own compared to modern filth. The perfume I would like my partner to have.

Courtesy of the good folks at Raiders of the Lost Scent, I determined that the EDT bottle in my possession is from 1992, a year after the conversion into this particular bottle with the removable gold-trimmed cap, and this is staggeringly beautiful. This is the culmination of the style of fragrance we once called "oriental": a heady, narcotic, spicy, resinous, incensed potion. Its release in 1977 set the world ablaze with its controversial name and evocative advertising campaign. I seldom make such statements for fear of "gatekeeping" but I do suggest that anyone who truly wants to be "studied" in the art and history of perfumery should sample the juggernaut that is YSL Opium, preferably those iterations produced before 2003.

Opium is hypnosis, it has you in a trance for the first twenty minutes, especially if you choose six sprays as I did. Elements weave in and out, mandarin peels, clove conflagrations and cinnamon spells, incantations stirring the air around you. There are chewy gums and unctuous tree exudates, a pronounced tolu balsam, floral-spicy, cinnamic, vanillic, deep dark woods accents. Olibanum teardrops and myrrh pebbles, see-sawing censors straddling between the sacred and profane, whispers of the profane alternating with rapturous wails of ecstasy. Its opulence will have you easily fully realizing the inspidity of today's Kayali who and Electimuss what. A punch that feels like a caress sure beats a shrill slap across the face. Opium is a KNOCKOUT.

This fragrance exudes strength, power, and confidence. The prominent notes of cloves, cinnamon, incense, and sandalwood blend together perfectly. Surrounding the scent are plum, patchouli, and amber, which add a touch of sweetness. A deeper breath reveals a slightly animalic vibe, although it's not immediately noticeable in the air.

When I first tried it, I was put off by the initial spray, but after returning to it 5 years later, I've grown to appreciate it. Overall, I detect a slightly burnt resin with amber and powdery florals, with a few different transitions as it progresses. While I consider it unisex, it may lean towards the feminine side in modern culture. Some may see it as dated, but I would place it in a similar category as Comme Des Garcons by CDG (1994). Compared to modern releases, Opium may be considered avant-garde.

I love this perfume it takes you on a journey it's very similar to cinnabar which I also love genderless in my opinion