Notes on Shoes Cake & Perfume

My First Foray Into Abstract Perfume

I don't like contemporary abstract art -- the original stuff from the 50's was a legitimate response to age-old figurative art, and the romanticism of the Impressionists, as well as an authentic expression of the post war 50's zeitgeist.  Since then, it all seems to me like a rehash, coming from an acedamic place that uses the original stuff as the reference, or is so pared down as to become wallpaper, and boring wallpaper at that!  Now here's a wonderful piece by Maura Bendett, who says that when she went to Grad school it was unthinkable to go against the Abstract Expressionist Old Boys Network, and she didn't until she had enough courage at the end of school.  And Bill Brice's students at UCLA were lucky enough to be with an authentic abstract artist, who had been working since the 40's, and wasn't part of any movement. 

But enough about my unpopular ideas about Contemporary Art, I'm just using this as a lead-in to the connections to and differences between abstraction in art, and perfumery, which has fewer precedents, and is truly Contemporary, although it is  just as hard to pull off.  The trick, for me, is for an abstract scent to smell like Something, i.e. Itself, without smelling like anything in particular that you can identify.  Two of the legendary scents in this area are Eau D'Issey, and Dzing, neither of which have ever really spoken to me, although I find the latter quite fascinating.  The LA based Gendarme, which is supposed to be a men's scent that smells nothing but clean, is an Emperor's New Clothes scent to me. 

All of this leads me to the lovely hour I spent at Ormonde Jayne in London a couple of weeks ago.  As far as perfume reviews go, it doesn't get better than Octavian, so here his take on them.  For myself, I must say that the legendary Ta'if and Ormonde Jayne Woman are extraordinary, and I brought other samples with me on my trip to vet them.  The transparency and lack of literal perfume qualities have made these perfect travelling companions to stinky hysterical India, as foils to the daily bombardment of the senses here.  

I had thought that perhaps rich "natural" scents would be the ticket here, when I made the perfume bag for my trip, although I had imagined that some less rich scents might be refreshing, and brought Tea for Two, M & B Spiritus, and the strange vintage Jean LaPorte bitter mango scent L'Eau des Marveilleuses.  Although neither Jasmine & Tuberose, the original Indian florals, are my faves, Helg assures me that I would love them here in their natural habitats (I'm ashamed to say that I haven't pursued any perfume in India yet, must this week), the night blooming jasmine in Jodhpur was unlike anything I've ever smelled.  I find that my Norma Kamali Perfume containing a zillion florals in a rich intense blend just makes me dizzy here, while is conversely refreshing in arid LA. 

I had recently become a convert to O-J, and was delighted that I'd be able to get there in London and sniff everything in its natural habitat and buy whatever I wanted, as they are unavailable in the US, except by order from the O-J site.

The OJ scents are characterized by a kind of transparency and sparkling effect, especially remarkable in contrast with quite earthy woods and spices which make up the notes of at least half of her offerings.  By "her," I mean the lovely Linda Pilkington who we got to hang out with for half of our time at the shop.  There was a lot to talk about, between shoes and perfume and travel and families, and we barely scratched the surface, I'm looking forward to going back to grab my new faves, Champaca and Tolu, and test the Parfum version of Sampaquita, which I love, but seems to vaporize on me.  I was so covered in EDP when I was at the shop, I hadn't a chance to sample the Parfums, which I hear are wonderful, and quite changed by the intensity of 30% vs 20% of essential scent components (I hope I have the numbers right, it's something like that).   Next week I'll be back in London in Winter, quite a change from India AND Los Angeles, it will be interesting to sniff these scents in the cold! 

Narcotic Natural Perfume: My Absinthe Brute

I actually made my experiment with Calice Becker's Absinthe Verte formula (see my A Taste of Heaven) quite a while ago, but I set it aside, feeling rather ambivalent about it, and maybe it cured a bit, and I did get some distance on it.  Wormwood, as I mentioned, is so intense that while I was mixing up the darn brew, I kind of overdosed on it, and rather felt as if I couldn't do enough to mitigate its smell, or maybe neutralize it?  I couldn't decide which was better for my concoction, although my aim was, without a doubt, to feature the Wormwood in a totally different way from the other scents and drinks I had experienced, but it's so darned pungent!  I love bitter vegetables and herbs, more so as I get older, perhaps my system is too sweet and it balances me out somehow ; )  I should ask my herbalist, right?

So here is what I did -- Becker's formula is for 1000 g of essences, which I divided by 5 to get the ingredients down to amounts I could imagine, and I used DROPS instead of GRAMS of course , which is how I saw Mandy Aftel mix her Maroc in a a demo once.  I started with one drop (ONE!) of Wormwood CO2 Extract in 10 ml of denatured alcohol so I could experience it on it's own, yikes!  Then I mitigated it with whatever I had on hand from Calice's (I feel I know her now) formula:  my own Amber mixture from the time I read Aftel's Essence and Alchemy (CB used Ambrarome), Vanilla, Oak Moss, Patchouli, Lavender, Orange Flower, Rose, Geranium, and oodles of Bergamot (her formula contains a full third of it!).  What I got was still so sharp I decided to soften it with a little Clove, Benzoin, and Labdanum, and still it smelled a bit rough.  What to do?  I was missing a major aromatic component of her formula -- four different types of Lavender!  I had added whatever I had, a paltry 10 drops  whereas hers had a whopping 50% of the stuff, but this was a riff on hers after all,  made at home!

Luckily I remembered that I had some Ambergris tincture from the era when wonderful Luca Turin had his blog, and a few of us went in on some of the pure Amber Gris after he extolled its virtues, divided it up and tinctured it, and it sits in my cabinet to this day.  LT had done an experiment where he sprayed something nice and normal, perhaps Guerlain Vetiver on each hand, and on one he added a drop of Ambergris and the effect was utterly transformative.  So I added 4 drops (in what turned out to be a 70 drop formula) and hoped for the best.  By this time I had completely overdosed on the Wormwood and my nose had shut down completely,  so I put it aside for further study.   

Every once in a while, during the last month, I've spied the cobalt bottle containing my potion on the table, and I've dabbed it around a bit . It's bitter, not sweet like CB's, and it's undeniable herbal, is it an egregious hippie aroma?  No, it's so darned heady, rather  more Goth, not fuzzy and friendly, yet not nasty either.  As it develops, and it actually does develop, its warmth surfaces, but it never loses that Wormwood Wallop, and yes, I do find it strangely addictive, even in this makeshift form, thanks to Ms Becker, or to this mysterious herb, or both.

So the Victorians had something there, perhaps Absinthe wasn't in and of itself downright dangerous, but had a narcotic quality to those who were oddly susceptible to it, and that would have been, and is, me.  I've always had a weakness for sensibilities of the past tempered by the present, and my homemade juice is very evocative, probably just to me -- luckily I work at home!

Flash from the Past: The Charm of Natural Perfumery

I must begin with my apology for dropping the ball on my chronicle of our visit to Strange Invisible Perfumes!  Had I not been alerted to Tom's review of Botanique Musc by Roxana, I probabaly would have lagged even more -- there are those bloggers who cannot stop themselves from posting every little thing they do, and there are those, like me (and Cait ; ) who are mired in their every day experiences (I speak for myself) and simply forget to blog!  I even forget to check my beloved perfume blog Grain de Musc and can miss tons of interesting posts and comments in only a week!  But enough about me and my slothful ways.

As at least 106 (my traffic that day, whoops!) of you read in Tom's review of Musc Botaniqe last week, we had a lovely visit to Strange Invisible Perfumes in Venice (California ; ) a couple of weeks ago.  All of the women who work for this place are delightful and happy to share their beloved naturally based scents, which is the best advertisement I can think of for this jewel box of a shop.  I grew up in the late 60's and early 70's, and I must admit that the lure of the hippie perfume oils was lost on me at the time.  I was already a bit of a snob and also a vintage-clothing-wearer (although I did wear leotards and jeans on occasion) and I was more interested in smelling like Rita Hayworth in Gilda than the girl who sang I Met a Boy Called Frank Mills in HAIR (which I LOVED, check out this video, but it wasn't my aesthetic).  I could be wrong, but I think that this was also the period during which loads of synthetic Musk was hitting the streets in hipppy oils, Patchouli and Rain aside.  I just remember that some of the scents labeled Musk smelled very interesting to me, although I didn't "get" them, and others just smelled wierd, as did lots of the blends one tried in head shops or small boutiques.  This must have been the beginning of my sensitivity, or asnomia, to many synthetics used in perfumery.  

All of this is to say that the charms of Natural Perfumery is not lost on my, I do smile when the scent of Patchouli oil wafts past me at our local Farmer's Market as it did a numbe of times this morning, because I understand and appreciate the signification, and I do like the smell.  But I generally like my scents more expertly blended and mysterious.  The scents at Strange Invisible Perfumes, while harking back to a more innocent time, are, in fact, expertly blended, and in some cases are quite a bit more than a sum of their parts.  Overall, the sensibility is a bit sweet for me, as I like my perfume a bit darker, more bitter, and even trickier it seems, but there are certainly a number of crossover scents at SIP which might even please a diehard vintagelover.  Lyric Rain, for instance, has a full-on vintage quality (thank Tom's nose for this, and only my corroboration), and if I didn't have a dozen of them already, or if I were a diehard Organic fan, I would be very happy with it.  Galatea is also one of the oddest scents there, and I need to go back to try it again.  Black Rosette, as Scentself mentions, is a rather gothic twist on rose, and bears further exploration, as does Magazine Street (with proceeds going to aid Hurrican Kristina victims in New Orleans), and L'Invisible.   The interesting surprise for me was indeed Musc Botanique, which starts out smelling freshly and greenly nothing at all like Musk, but dries down to a lovely "skin scent" that I swear is what other people are loving when they smell Musk -- like in Musc Ravageur, but not as sweet.  Now this scent alone doesn't rock my world, but I am looking forward to trying it as a layering element to help other beloved scents stick to me, as I could detect it's presence on my upper arm a full 12 hours after I had applied it! 
   
Stay tuned for my Chemistry Set Experiment with the formula of A Taste of Heaven, which has actually been enacted -- thank Heaven for long weekends! 

A Worthy Addiction: By Kilian A Taste of Heaven / Absinthe Verte

On my recent trip to Paris, I happened to sniff the By Kilian scents in a small shop in St Germain.  At first whiff, none of them overtly appealed to me except for A Taste of Heaven (idiosyncratically subtitled Absinthe Verte).    I applied it to my skin and went on my way, only to find myself going back to the spot where I had applied it over and over throughout the day, mesmerized by it's aromatic bittersweetness, completely devoid of the traditional anise or licorice, which has, in this case, been replaced by Lavender.  Now I am addicted, like the bohemian Victorians and Parisians were to Absinthe, and I am happy to report that I have not suffered any undue effects.
This might be the only scent I love in which I can actually sense the underlying structure, and experience the layered elements working sequentially and in harmony, to become a scintillating entity.

Absinthe is one of the most overhyped libations in the uber- hip world of California cocktail culture.  While the idea of Absinthe has always appealed to me, because I adore the creative period in England and France that seems to have been drenched in this notorious substance, the drink itself has disappointed me.  I am not a licorice fan, and I always feel that in its presence,
I cannot sense the proper bitterness of the Artemesia Absinthum, or Wormwood itself, to drink the bittersweet elixir I have imagined.

When I became aware of Absinthe used in perfumery several years ago, I was intrigued, then disappointed by the syrupy nature of the Grandiflorum scent, and Luten's Douce Amere is similarly more Douce than Amere.  I have tried Absoluement Absinthe and L'Artisan's Fou D'Absinthe, both rather fresh and light, when I wanted something darker and more pungent.  After I read Mandy Aftel's Essense and Alchemy, I ordered a collection of natural essences from her supplier in Portland before going there.  I picked up a small carton containing my essences, and the largest bottle, also the cheapest, the Wormwood extract, had oozed the tiniest bit and completely pervaded the box with it's intensely acrid odor.  I was terrified, and have not ventured near it since.

What is it exactly, I wondered, what are the components of the perfume epiphany I have experienced in A Taste of Heaven?   One visit to the By Kilian website offers us the precise formulas for all of their fragrances!  I know it's goofy, but I want to make a stab at it at home (after all, I have the Wormwood!).  I will use the formula the way I use recipes in my kitchen, replacing intuitively the things I don't have with things at hand, and seeing if I can come anywhere near the aromatic bittersweet nectar I seem to need. 

I used to love my chemistry set as a kid, and one of my nicknames in Art School was "class chemist," so this is a great chance for me to revisit my youth.  I was far more gifted in the ceramics glaze room than I ever was with my chemistry set, although I deeply enjoyed both pursuits, and I doubt I will come anywhere near Calice Becker's vision with the meager assortment natural essences in my  cupboard.  If only we had rainy days here it would be the perfect project, but I'll have to settle for an overcast one instead.   

Strangely, the formula for A Taste of Heaven contains only 5 grams, or 5/1000 Absinthe / Artemesia/ Wormwood (which echoes my experience of it in my cardboard box -- this stuff is strong), while it contains fully 50% or 500 grams total of four different types of Lavender!   

I'll report my findings in this very space.  In the meantime, A Taste of Heaven is available at Luckyscent. 

A rose is not just a rose...............Rose Kashmirie hits home!

I wonder if I'm the first person in the perfume-lovers community to review the newly released Rose Kashmirie from Les Parfums de Rosine?  You should know that I'm a bit of a recent convert to this line, after having become drawn to unusual combinations with rose at their core just over a year ago while decanting a bit of Guerlain's Rose Barbare from a bottle I bought for someone in Paris.  I followed it up with Serge Luten's Rose de Nuit, aptly described by someone else as a winey rose, and got properly hooked on rich rose scents, until summer hit (May in LA) and lighter roses began to appeal.  I continued my ambivalent relationship with Ormonde-Jayne's Ta'if, which finally ended with us parting ways, and I happily rediscovered the Rosine scents with a sample of Rose D'Argent from a great perfume friend. I was immediately captivated by its interesting blend of Anise, Geranium and Rose, which morphs into something else altogether, a "happy" scent that never fails to lift my spirits.  Hardly any of the rose scents I like really smell very much like a rose, but they wouldn't exist without it.  This is all part of the magic of perfumery, which is why we are all here!

When announcements appeared in June about the release of Rose Kashmirie with the following detailed and romantic notes worthy of California Cuisine in the 80's, I knew I had to try it....

Top Notes: Red strands of saffron from Kashmiria, Essence of Bulgarian Rose, Spicy seeds of coriander, Green peel of Sicilian bergamot
Heart notes: Red peonies from China, Damascene Rose absolute, Resin from myrrh or Bdellium (?!) from India
Base notes: Woodsy oil from Nagar Motha, Black vanilla pods, Roots of Indian vetiver or Khus, Sacred sandalwood, Benzoin tears, Ambrette seeds that smell of musk, Ambergris

I'm realizing that there are certain notes used in scent that will always get my attention, and they are not just the usual suspects.  Saffron, clove (and most aromatic spices), geranium, honey, most woods (except for cedar and oud), frankincense and myrrh.  Not only do I adore these scents on their own, but they often seem to be used in interesting ways.  I find that what I am most often after in a scent are the simultaneous sensations of effortlessness and stimulation.  The ones I respond to most are usually masterfully blended but with a surprising twist, and this finally brings me to Rose Kashmirie!

When my bottle arrived in the hands of a friend a couple of weeks ago I ripped off the cellophane there and then to get to the bottle and spritz, and I was sort of thrilled and a bit disappointed.  The light and breezy aspect of the Rosine scents are not my usual style, as I tend to like more richness and gravitas, but it did have the uplifting quality that I can't help but respond to.  As I drove home I kept sniffing, and I got to a sort of murky green moment that made me think that alas I wasn't going to be able to love this one................at least I had my scent pals waiting with bated breath to get their hands on some and they could make up their own minds.  Now the day I got my hands on this scent was one of our silly 90 degree Ocotober days, and I noticed about an hour later that there was a wonderful scent in the air, and realized that it had to be coming from me!  The RK had bloomed surprisingly beautifully -- I had to revisit it right away, and re-experience the top/middle/bottom affect.  This time I didn't much mind that murky middle as I could sense the transmutation of the scent, the perfumer's art resulting in the alchemy that is perfume. 

• So this is what happens when I spritz Rose Kashmirie - the first burst of the sweet/tart blend of spice, citrus and rose is quite delightful, a kind of honeyed spiced citrusy rose.  At the end of this phase, it reminds me a bit of Creed's Fleur de The Rose Bulgare because of that rose Sicilian Bergamot effect, but it is also rather sweet and feminine, which must come from the saffron rose combo.  ( I often forget that I like sweetness in spicy scents).  I think that funny middle period comes when the "Ambrette seeds that smell of musk" joins in, and for some reason it surfaces for a few minutes almost as if it is on it's own before the scent it becomes its true self, a lovely sum of it's parts, at once  warm, bittersweet, spiced and earthy. Rose Kashmirie really makes me wonder about the magic of scent development, how the labels of top, middle, and bottom notes don't really address the mysterious ways scents combine their different volatilities which ebb and flow at different stages to make the perfumes we love or hate.  Bravo François Robert and Rosine!

Neither Shoes nor Cake nor Perfume but Epidermis

I must take a moment to shamelessly publicize my new line of skincare, Arcona, as a mere consumer, not manufacturer or spokesmodel, just delighted customer.  I have not been happy with my skincare since I've been back in arid Los Angeles this year, away from wonderfully moist Europe last year.  My skin is much happier in more humid environments, sadly I do not live in one, and must pay the price.  Finally I have found that the the price can be paid dollars and cents instead of skin quality!  Perhaps Los Angles, land of sun, smog, chlorinated water galore and desert climate, necessitated the creation of this line, not surprisingly, based here.

I know little of it's origins, but from the website it looks like one person pioneered the "natural" formulas, as well as the rather revolutionary idea that creams and lotions don't really add much to your skin.  The idea behind the line, made of rather simple and easy to understand ingredients, is that balance can be restored to all skin types by regular (and rather mild) exfoliation supplemented by potions that draw moisture to the skin and help to keep it there.   Arcona purports that everything they tell you to apply to your skin is actively DOING something for the whole time it is there,  and I am here to tell the tale.

I was very wary of committing to a 5 piece regime, and was eased into it by a nice sampler bag containing all of the pieces for me to get hooked!  Within 2 days my skin was actually dewy in the morning, the time when I had most felt dehydrated.  I figured that the Honeymoon might be over soon, and cynically waited for a couple of weeks to be disappointed.  Instead I refined my regime to work for my very particular skin, with the help of a nice Customer Service gal, and I couldn't be happier.  My skin is wonderfully smooth, and everything I put on it is completely compatible with the various makeups I wear, while conventional moisturizers have frequently been incompatible.  Even my beloved Aesop Rosa Damascena Oil never really seemed to DO much for my skin from day to day although it provided a lovely base for my foundation and my skin felt hydrated while it was on, it didn't feel hydrated when it wasn't on..............dommage.

It really makes sense to go for "natural" skincare in these times, there are strange chemicals in enough of what surrounds us, and everything we put on our skin seems to actually permeate it!  I hereby encourage anyone reading this to explore more natural skincare options, wheter it is Zia from the health food store which many people seem to love, or Alba Botanica, Aesop, Stella McC, Nuxe from France, there are more options than ever before.  I particularly recommend Arcona if you are willing to do a complete skincare turn- around, and take the risk to have lovely skin in your second half century! 

PS:  I promise new shoe and perfume posts in the near future, cake too!

 

My Ten Favorite Scents for a Modern Summer

I've loved reading the summer fave scents by the real scent bloggers, like Marina and Tom, Ina, and Victoria, so I had to join the fun.  Actually noticing and narrowing down my choices to the nearest and dearest made me think about what I really look for and find in my scent choices, and they naturally broke down into five catagories which made it quite neat.  The great thing is that all of our choices are pretty darned different, which is why we are all here, isn't it?

I find that there are several qualities in a scent that I crave during the summer, the first is the quite literally a bracing scent, fresh and invigorating, simply the opposite of the way that I wilt in the heat.  These quaranteed antidotes to the heat for me this summer are both by Miller et Bertaux, go figure!  That is what got me to musing on my comparative modernity this year, as I am not craving any classic perfumery at all -- unless you think my final entries are Classic, I just think they're Magic.

My first Bracing scent is Miller et Bertaux's earthy Spiritus (#2) , and my second is their self explanatory Green Green Green & Green (#3).  Though my immediate sensation of #2 is always "peppery," I'm never tempted to sneeze, it's cool pepper like szechuan peppercorns.  The stated notes of #2 are “Mystic incense, sandalwood, tobacco and spices are infused with ginger and rose,” now that doesn’t sound bracing does it?  But the effect of the scent is cool spice, perhaps due to the cooling effect of incense and tobacco on ginger?   It's completely addictive, like spicy food is sometimes.  I am notoriously bad at picking out notes and I’ve turned that weakness into a strength by lauding the fragrances I love that are blended so seamlessly as to blur the edges of all of their notes.  Now #3 is crisp and bittersweet, a git like green pepper blended with herbs to soften it's bitter edges.  It’s stemmy and fresh, reminding me of that Gobin Daudé scent that was so green and alive smelling, while Vent Vert, which is also very green, has that classic perfumey quality that I am eschewing.

The next quality that I crave in summer is piquancy, a kind of stimulating pungence, which I associate with spices, and again I have a double header by Divine Parfums, L’Homme Sage, one of my favorite spice scents of all time, and my new discovery L’Homme de Coeur.  Coeur seems to be made of rather pungent green herbs and spices, Sage is all brown and gold spice, simultaneously warm and and comforting and, and sharp and stimulating. 

    
When I read the notes of  L’Homme Sage and I think HELLO it’s made from mostly things I really love – even Lychee! (and what are “everlasting flowers?”), which combine to make a scent I really love, which seems intuitive but doesn't really happen all that often to me.  With saffron, mandarin, cardamom, lychee; balm, aromatic woods, everlasting flowers; patchouli, oak moss, amber and incense, it’s a never miss scent for me. 

In contrast, L’Homme de Coeur is green and gray composition does a completely different thing with an herbaceous combination of angelica, juniper berries, cypress, iris, vetiver, ambergris, and wild vanilla (which seems to be some kind herb, not the vanilla pod we expect).  Actually I would have named them in reverse, as this scent seems a bit more monastic (sage is wise in French, like wiseman, but also sort of quiet and good), and the Sage seems more warm hearted, but what’s in a name?

Believe it or not my next two scents are ALSO by the same house, Les Parfums de Rosine, and I am after their simultaneously fresh and stimulating aspects, which isn't what one would necessarily look for in a Rose scent.   Roseberry and Diabolo Rose have both surprised me as potions concocted from curiously refreshing components combined with rich rose to make scents that really last on me, for one thing, delivering downright amusing whiffs at every turn!  

Here are the interesing notes of these scents – Roseberry has almost a fizzy fresh aspect with “aldehydic, green and rosy notes, blackcurrant bud, blue camomile; lees of wine notes, wild rose, Turkish rose, raspberry leaves, blackberry; sandalwood, vetyver & iris.”  I swear that the red wine comes across, and as my foodie friend Richard always says about balance in food, it, along with all of those berries, brings “good acid” to the composition, hence it's refreshment.

Diabolo Rose hits with a whoosh of mint, like a breath of fresh air, that combines Sicilian bergamot, peppered mint, rose essence, lily of the valley, rose absolue, tomato leaves, peony, maté leaves, sandalwood, amber & musk.  The citrus and mint combined with those refreshing leaves and florals really makes this a special scent, so much more than the mere combination of it's parts.

My Happy Summer Florals this year are Creed’s legendary Fleur de Thé Rose Bulgare, and Le Labo Neroli 36, both of which always make me smile, which must be aromatherapy doing it’s work.  Again, their notes don’t tell the story very well, as both scents are so evocative of times and places and feelings I may have never experienced, but these scents teach them to me with every sniff.   I experience a kind of ecstatic happiness from the wonderous Creed scent, which is like a magnificent fictitious tea rose.  If the amazonian genetic mutations of roses that are at florists for Valentine's Day -- one can’t help trying to smell them, only to be disappointed again and again -- had a scent, this would be it!  The notes are Bulgarian roses, green tea, Sicilian mandarin, Sicilian bergamot, Italian lemon, all of which can definitely be sniffed out in this transporting scent, but it that's not the whole story and the radically simplified almost generic notes of the uplifting Neroli 36 (for 36 ingredients) tell us very little about it “neroli, rose, musk, mandarin orange, jasmine and vanilla” (duh, whatever, how about Neroli Neroli Neroli?)  All I can tell you is that it works on me like Prozac this summer!

My last cagegory is Fabulous and Mysterious, a special feeling that both Balenciaga's Vintage Le Dix and Guerlain's Vol de Nuit always give me, and there is no way to imagine how either of them smell by reading their notes.

The Third Thing

Water is H2O, hydrogen two parts, oxygen one,
but there is also a third thing, that makes it water
and nobody knows what that is.

The atom locks up two energies
but it is a third thing present which makes it an atom.                  D.H. Lawrence

Le Dix completely  took me by surprise.  I had gotten a HUGE bottle on ebay for a violet loving friend, and of course had to decant a bit for myself to experiment with, and I was very intrigued.  I have NEVER liked violet anything, except for the color!  The scent was violety, woodsy and captivating, and I have returned to it over time especially during warm weather, which is a double surprise, since woody violet with a hint of leather doesn’t sound too appealing for the summer, but that’s just one of the mysteries of which I speak!  Here are the notes, of the vintage, not the reformulation, strangely missing a violet note altogether: bergamot, lemon; ylang ylang, rose, lily of the valley, iris; civet, musk, vanilla, sandalwood, & vetiver.    
Vol de Nuit (1933) has something in common with Le Dix (1947) which can pretty much be discerned by reading the notes,  both have a violet aspect which is not listed (Le Dix is MUCH more violet, and Vol de Nuit is always depicted in a sort of violet mist, perhaps to evoke The Night) but I suppose it’s the citrus topnotes, rich floral middle notes, and woody musk base notes create a genetic relationship for sure.  But none of them describe it's aura properly, and there is no way I can tell you what Vol de Nuit smells like.  Others have made a better stab at it, but no one has been able to describe what it really is.  I love that!  Supposedly it is made from orange, mandarin, lemon, bergamot, orange blossom; jonquil, aldehydes, galbanum; vanilla, spices, oakmoss, sandalwood, orris, musk.

. 

Eau My Sin Redux

Oh my, Eau My Sin is as wonderful as I had imagined it would be. Everyone who has sniffed it on me has said “Ooooh that smells wonderful on you,” although each of them has declined to try it, which makes me think that it is another one of my particular fancies that that no one else can really imagine joining me in, which means all the more for me!  I prefer the Eau to the Extrait, perhaps because the parfum sample I used had a bit more of an aged quality, maybe due to some spoiled top notes, or to funky basenotes?  I’ve just sniffed a bit of extrait from one of my ebay coups which is lighter in color than the first sample I had, and it is a bit fresher smelling but the drydown seems to be mostly ylang ylang/musk/civet and the heavier floral aspect of this scent is not my favorite facet. 

Here are the notes:  Top Notes of aldehydes, bergamot, lemon, clary sage, neroli; Heart Notes of ylang-ylang, jasmine, rose, clove, orris, lily of the valley, jonquil, lilac; Base Notes of vanilla, vetiver, musk, woods, tolu, styrax, civet

Madame Zed, who created My Sin (Mon Peché) in 1925 or 1926 for Jeanne Lanvin, seems to be one of the glamourous White Russian exiles populating Paris since the Russian Revolution, many of whom were involved in fashion and other arts of luxury.  Some of these women were titled aristocrats who had probably escaped with jewelry and cash and needed to make a living, doing for others what they had done for themselves all their lives, creating personas through clothing, accessories and personal care.  This partucular Russian sensibility, arriving in Paris on the heels of the first sightings of Diaghalev’s Ballet Russe and the heroic exoticism of Paul Poiret’s design empire, transormed high syle in the Paris of this period.  Mme Zed created this scent (the final scent of 15 she did for Jeanne Lanvin before 1925!!!!) at what seems to have been the end of her perfume career, as there are no scents credited to her after it.

You know, I’m not good at picking out notes, and frankly don’t aspire to it, as my definition of a fabulous scent is one in which each individual note is sublimated to the whole and none asserts itself too strongly, except for maybe a few moments on it’s way to morphing into something else.  But now that I sniff and read the notes listed, I can imagine that the topnotes smell like that strange herbal citrus floral quartet, and the middle mixture of heady florals, fresh spring flowers and murky iris has a complete yet somehow Unfloral effect, all held by an astonishing 7 basenotes ranging from the frankly benign vanilla through to the earthy vetiver and woods, to the mystical styrax and tolu, climaxing with notorious civet (it’s an antique, so we might as well enjoy it!).  My Sin is a kind of everything but the kitchen sink all perfumes rolled into one, which makes it feel like one of the truly iconic perfumes of the first half of the 20th century.  My Vintage Perfume Enabler, Denyse Beaulieu (also known as carmencanada) said of it in her email encouraging my ebay odyssey “My Sin is pretty much my definition of perfume. Fabulously blended, refined and animalic, totally undefinable.” Now if SHE can’t define it, what am I to do?.  Just reading the the notes is fascinating, like reading a great recipe, one feels that the cook is definitely functioning on a special level, and that s/he knows something I definitely don’t and can learn a ton from.  Thank you, Madame Zed.

Vintage Mania: Oh My Sin!

I hadn't been feeling myself for a few weeks, and my sense of smell and taste were strongly affected, to the point where I wasn't particularly interested in perfume, and it made me very sad!  I was going for stronger tastes in food, eating Thai and Szechuan and Lebanese and Korean food, all very easy to come by here in LA, which cheered me up a bit, but I missed my auto perfume responses terribly.  

Finally, after almost three weeks I started craving vintage scents most of all, that kind of strange dark almost bitter tinge of Jolie Madame, Miss Balmain, Vent Vert, and Cabochard, all of which I have in my arsenal turned out to fit the bill, but then my little sample of My Sin Parfum twinkled beguilingly, quite different in character from the others.  I had falled in love with it a month or two ago and had bid on several bottles on Ebay rather timidly and lost them, and I attacked the auctions with renewed vigor, and I'm almost ashamed to admit that I won several in one day, like a gambler on a roll, I felt invincible, and that this chance might not repeat itself, compulsively bidding on each My Sin auction in a 24 hour period, winning each one!  Ah, the old days, I've always been nostalgic for the times I've never seen, and my interest in vintage scent really makes me feel as if I can actually smell another time, so I don't feel guilty about craving it, as the payoff is so great.

But later, with pangs of remorse (I've never been interested in proper gambling, as the stakes weren't at all interesting to me) I was concerned that I might have made a big mistake, blowing my was on one scent, while I had just had a renewed sense of scent, might I have changed a bit?  I'm so promiscuous with scent anyway!  And what of the difference between the parfum and the EDT (called simply Eau de Lanvin or Eau My Sin (get it?  Oh My Sin?).   I'd just have to wait until the bottles rolled in.

The first came in today!  I tore open the package, and got to the small bottle (thank heaven more was coming!)  I splashed it on, immediately and breathed in sharply, ahhhhhhhhh, that's it, My Sin, just as strange and interesting as I had imagined from my parfum sample.  And now I can live out my fantasy of drenching myself in it (cough splutter) but there is that adage about too much of a good thing, easy girl!  I could smell it all through dinner and wondered again if I was going overboard.  Ask me tomorrow what I think of it.  And about the two bottles that will come in next week, will they be any different, different years of production, different formulas, who knows?

Tune in later for my further adventures with My Sin, Mme Zed and Jeanne Lanvin..........

Lychee Litchi Who's Got the Lychee

Growing up in NY, Chinese restaurants had those interesting fruits for dessert sometimes, kind of weird looking, perfumey tasting, denigrated by my bohemian parents for being Canned Fruit.  When I started to go to art school, I discovered fresh litchi in the Asian markets to paint with watercolors, because their exterior texture and interior shell colors were so beautiful, with the luminous flesh inside, oozing perfumey juice.  I don’t think I ate them, because they weren’t chocolate, I just painted and sniffed at them.  Years later, in Los Angeles, someone (maybe that cool Lebanese guy who lived on my street in Beverly Hills?) introduced me to the sheer delight of eating fresh litchi cold from the fridge, icy perfumed amazingly textured fruit exploding in your mouth!  I’ve been introducing other people to the Wonders of Litchi ever since. 

In a previous blog, I waxed poetic about an amazing dessert concoction by my favorite maitre, Pierre Herme, the Isphahan (named for the rose), that consists of cream studded with litchi sandwiched between rose macarons and studded with fresh raspberries.  Imagine, munching on slippery litchi perfumed cream, preceded by the rose perfumed pink macaron crunch, framed by the gritty acidic raspberry texture & flavor happening at once in your mouth – it’s absoletly volcanic!

Last night I did my first perfume/dessert pairing – ice cold litchi accompanied by sniffs of Indult Manakara on our wrists, yum!  I had chanced upon my samples of Manakara and Isvaraya earlier in the afternoon and decided to try them, along with about 8 others I hadn’t yet dipped into!  I relegated Manakara into the swap pile, after the first Banana, ewwwww, hit.  And as I was making dinner preparations, it persistently wafted up sweetly from my right wrist, and smelled so not like anything I’d like yet it was quite intoxicating – why I wondered?   It’s a Litchi floral!  Coincidentally I had just bought a can (they’re good, Mom!) of Litchi for dessert, thus my dessert/perfume scheme was hatched, with great success!  If you’ve got an Indult Manakara sample, I urge you to try it too, and if you don’t have one, I’ll share my source!