The Party in Manhattan Perfume Review

The Party In Manhattan Ida’s bottle

See Manhattan I cried New York!

even at sunset it doesn’t shine

but stands in fire charcoal to the waist ~ excerpt from Mother’s Day by Grace Paley

NYC at night Pixabay

The Party’s The Party in Manhattan launched in 2008, I remembered that I had a pristine, rarely-sprayed flacon in the back of my grandfather’s highboy dresser. It’s been over a decade since I paid it any attention: that wasn’t’ for lack of love, so much as the reality of having difficulty locating a particular perfume when so many are crammed into insufficient storage space. I’ve been amassing fragrances for years, and some of them are now rare and/or extremely expensive and/or irreplaceable, which is why I tend to wear them sparingly. We all know how that is. I share with my friends, but there’s still a ridiculous amount scattered in the places where normal people store their clothes and other belongings. Who needs clothing anyway, when you have perfume???

Kateryna Hliznitsovavia Pixabay

The Party in Manhattan is a fascinating fragrance to ponder, and like all extraordinary perfumes, it tends to be controversial. Perfume aficionados find it polarizing, and a love-or-hate reaction is de rigueur. You will read wildly differing opinions: it’s too powerful; it’s too weak; it possesses no longevity; it lasts an eternity on the flesh; it’s too animalic vs. it’s only mildly animalic – and so on. I was greatly amused as I read the commentary because I was wearing it at the same time, and I find it difficult to comprehend how many individuals arrived at their conclusions. Several perfume lovers feel compelled to be reductive in their assessment of The Party in Manhattan because it shares DNA with other beloved fruit-abundant chypres (we’ll address that in a bit). Let’s explore this fragrance in the spirit of non-competitiveness: it’s possible to love many fruity chypres at once. It’s not a zero-sum game.

The Party in Manhattan arose from a Bologna-based niche house headed by creative director and credited nose Paolo Borgomanero. He was said to be one of three friends who bought and revivified the Acqua di Profumo brand (which was so successful that LVMH purchased it in 2007). While The Party in Manhattan (The Party’s inaugural fragrance) was launched in Italy in 2006, it eventually made its way to Harrod’s (London) and later appeared in the U.S. at select points of sale. It has been widely advertised as being 100% natural, which I question simply because it isn’t clear which variety of musks are included. The Party in Manhattan sought to capture the vivacious spirit of the ‘30s and ‘20s via an exquisite neo-vintage chypre, and to my mind, it was most successful.

Karolina Grabowska Unsplash

We can’t begin any discussion about The Party in Manhattan without addressing the elephants in the room: Acqua di Parma Profumo (1930), Amouage Jubilation XXV Woman (2007), and Guerlain’s Mitsouko (1919). Fruity chypre advocates are always citing these three as the points of reference – and it’s easy to see why. They share many notes in common, but they are distinctly different. Many perfume fanciers believe that if you own one of these fragrances, you don’t need the others. In order to compare them side by side, I trotted out my oldest Mitsouko, Jubilation XXV Woman from its first release, and the original Profumo. Fair is fair if we’re talking vintage; it made sense to contrast the older flacons.

What do these four fragrances include that causes them to be perceived as similar? Why the confusion? Three out of four contain bergamot, patchouli, oakmoss, jasmine, rose, and musk – and 3 out of the four have other citrus notes (lemon, tangerine, unspecified citrus). All of them incorporate ylang-ylang, some form of ambery material (which would encompass labdanum and ambergris) and vetiver. That’s a good deal of commonality.

Elena de Soto Unsplash

Among these, the original formula of Acqua di Parma Profumo is the gentlest: it commences with bergamot, followed by a classic chypre base consisting of labdanum, amber, oakmoss, patchouli, vetiver and sandalwood. Floral, dry, powdery in the drydown, it’s extremely well-balanced and full-bodied while retaining a deeply mossy, slightly smoky trail. Amouage Jubilation XXV Woman feels a touch more herbal and anisic, due to the presence of tarragon, while davana imparts a fruity booziness; ylang-ylang sings out more prominently, quietly accompanied by rose. It is the myrrh in its base which makes the biggest difference, steering a resinous drydown into more exotic, arid territory. By this juncture, Jubilation XXV Woman bears little resemblance of them all to The Party in Manhattan – and there is nothing truly animalic about it.

Lastly, there is Mitsouko. In vintage, it smells smokier, fruitier (peach) and substantially darker in tone than either of the above: it’s also spicier, more floral, mossier, and intricate. If one indulges in a cursory sampling, there’s a passing kinship.

The Party In Manhattan Ida’s bottle

Manhattan crowds, with their turbulent musical chorus—with varied
chorus, and light of the sparkling eyes;
Manhattan faces and eyes forever for me. ~excerpt from Give Me The Splendid, Silent Sun by Walt Whitman

Unsplash

Ahhhh. But when we approach The Party in Manhattan, we enter a entirely different world, which we might impolitely refer to as Skank. It might also be regarded as The Land of Take No Prisoners; this is where the road really diverges. The Party in Manhattan bursts upon the scene with raucous, flamboyant animal intent. Oh, it’s plenty sophisticated; its élan quota is never in question – but you’d be sorely mistaken if you expected it to behave with propriety. The Party is méchant with a capital M, and is genderless. I adore the insolence with which it opens: vibrant bergamot and tangerine move swiftly into the herbal sphere, heralded by rooty carrot and iris and a bristling sage. The hot spice of carnation flirts with fragrant divas – rose de mai, ylang-ylang, and an indolic jasmine. Its awaited chypre base possesses unanticipated twists: the bawdy bourbon whiskey confronts a surfeit of inky oakmoss, the saline animal nature of ambergris, and a more substantial musky presence than any of the perfumes discussed. I perceive a cumin facet as well, although it isn’t listed. I wouldn’t categorize The Party in Manhattan as raw sex per se – but it does approach the threshold. You will always feel well-groomed while wearing it, but its saucy edge is undeniable – like that extra button left unbuttoned, the wisp of black lace too close to the breast, an intentional dishabille of the slightly debauched.

Notes: bergamot, tangerine, carrot, sage, carnation, ylang-ylang, jasmine, rose de mai, iris, bourbon whiskey, oakmoss, ambergris, vetiver, patchouli, musk (perceived note: cumin)