Fittingly, his fragrance, I discovered, contained one of my most favorite notes: Tiaré flower; the Tahitian gardenia which, when infused in coconut oil, is known as Monoï in French Polynesia. If you buy the real-deal monoï (easy to find in Hawai'i, Guam, or on the West coast, as well as Polynesia), there is a single tiare flower floating at the bottom.
This brings me back to my first-favorite scent as an "adult" (say, 20) and the thing that got me obsessed with perfumes and future travel to Tahiti: The original version of Tiare by Comptoir Sud Pacifique (now reformulated, sadly), that came in a beautiful deep turquoise frosted glass bottle.
Tiare flower has a rich, buttery, volupt personality with a somewhat dry and powdery aspect. It is often described as sultry and intoxicating. Mixing with coconut oil both smooths and slightly deepens its scent. Comptoir Sud's discontinued eau de toilette is still the ultimate tiare fragrance, to my nose. It seems pure, without other flowers like jasmine or ylang-ylang to obscure the gardenia. The addition of Tahitian vanilla in it makes the effect all the more languorous. This past summer I simply slathered myself (and my hair) in the traditional Monoï oil from Tahiti, whose sent is long-lasting and softly radiates. Monoï, in Polynesia is typically used for everything: hair, skin, body, face. You could bathe in the stuff. And so you should, since coconut oil is one of the best oils for your skin.
Compared side-by-side to the original Tahitian-made Monoï, Andre Gas' eau de toilette is quite similar in its beautiful starchy-floral qualities. Aside from the monoï accord, in Ensoleille moi I detect slight marine notes and hints of jasmine, added, I presume, to fully complete the picture conjured by the title of the perfume, meaning, "shine upon me," or "shine light on me." It is also, I'll bet, a bit of an homage to the French Riviera, which makes up a lot of the Gas Bijoux clientele, and where monoï is readily available and often used by its denizens. It is not as deep or lasting as that of the Comptoir version or the original Tahitian oil, which is a much simpler formula and not necessarily a "perfume" at all, though perfume's a happy side effect (ingredients being only coconut oil, tiare flower, fragrance and vitamin E). Ensoleille moi is brighter, lighter, conveying breeziness and water. Its lasting power is minimal, and for upwards of $80 for a 1.7 ounce (very pretty) bottle, I would stick with the original oil which cost me only $10 in San Francisco this past summer.
Monoï is traditionally an incorporation of tiare flower with coconut oil and has been for likely over a thousand years. Its name means "scented oil" in the archaic Tahitian language reo-maohi. It has been part of Ra'au Tahiti, traditional Tahitian medicine, since ancient times. It's used on babies, and on embalmed corpses; in rituals and in every day life; to protect one from the sun and to keep one warm on cool nights; to relieve migraines and to treat wounds.
The French government assigned its Appellation d’origine contrôlée to the production of monoï, making it the first "cosmetic" product to have that label (typically reserved for wines, cheeses, and the like). Manufacturers must adhere to rigid standards of production. These include the type of soil the coconut trees and tiare bushes must be grown in, when the buds and fruits are harvested, how many flowers go into a litre of oil, and how long they infuse.
The only caveat is not being in Polynesia right now, but being in miserable New York winter and getting the now-solid oil out of the narrow-necked bottle it comes in. In summer, monoï is a beautiful pale golden liquid. Below 68 degrees F, it hardens like most coconut oil. In these winter months, one must warm their monoï prior to application.
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