Aqua di Parma La Nobilita del Fare (The Nobility of Making)

In my -and many others'- mind, Italy has always stood as the archetypal bed for the blossoming of the arts: the country not only is a living and breathing museum, but also the fertile soil on which artisans and artists from the fields of painting, pottery, glassmaking, leather goods, music and perfumery, to this day produce objects and artifacts of high quality and that easy elegance which comes naturally to the South. Among them Acqua di Parma, revived thanks to the high profile business model opted for which helped consolidate it as a cult brand for perfume lovers everywhere.

 Acqua di Parma La Nobilita del Fare book cover © Giovanni Gastel

Now Acqua di Parma are launching not a new fragrance but a fragrance-related book for collectors: "La nobiltà del Fare” (The Nobility of Making) [editions Electra]. This prestigious volume features images from the great Italian photographer Giovanni Gastel, who tells a series of exceptional stories demonstrating the noble skills which Italy has mastered since the Renaissance. The book, with texts by Andrea Kerbaker and an introduction by Enrico Colle, will launch in New York on September 17th on the occasion of the American premiere of the “Roberto Bolle and Friends Gala”, produced by Artedanzsrl and sponsored exclusively by Acqua di Parma.

The book contains twenty-three stories selected from the most significant examples of Italian creativity, recounted through photographs specially taken by Giovanni Gastel, which express the essence and flavor of creativity, in the lightness of dance as well as the materiality of stone; images that explore intense faces, that reveal the secrets of ancient techniques, and tell of astounding artifacts. Artistic institutions of great international renown, academies and music conservatories, consortia and foundations, but also small workshops where master craftsmen create unique products that the world desires, fashioned in keeping with ancient methods of work: an exceptional variety of magnificent creative skills, whose common denominator is the noble tradition, the outstanding vocation, the age-old craftsmanship and passion for keeping alive the cultural and artistic traditions of the country.

Roberto Bolle photo © Giovanni Gastel

“A tradition of craftsmanship,” writes Enrico Colle in his introduction to the volume, “with a very high level of quality of execution coupled with an inspired use of widely available raw materials transformed by art. ... Italian craft production in all fields ... has been distinguished by ... the ability to create magnificent works in which the materials, subdued by art, are capable of arousing the admiration of both critics and patrons of the arts.”
Together with the photographs, the texts by Andrea Kerbaker lend a voice to the protagonists, who include Pinin Brambilla Barcilon, Renzo Piano, Marco Magnifico, Mimmo Paladino, Uto Ughi, as well as Maurizio Baglini, Daniele Gatti, Stefano Conia, the Marinelli brothers, Luca Litrico and many others.

Editions Electra, 332 pages with 280 illustrations, hardcover lined with jacquard silk & linen fabric by Rubelli. Available in Italian and English, retailing at 200 euros.

The Scent of 1400 Perfumes...Combined!

If you -like me- have ever played at your mother's or grandmother's vanity mixing the liquid of all the little perfume bottles together and ruining the precious juice in the process you know just what a musty, muddled stench such a combination can give and have moved on.  Apparently not every visitor at the French concept store Colette has though, which is why they're displaying that momentous thing in the first place: a giant vial filled with 1400 perfumes samples. Talk about giga-pong!

Actually that's the combined total of ALL the 2012 perfume releases (Remember the times when the most launches a single year saw was only one tenth of that number?)
Dutch duo Lernert and Sander decided to experiment regardless, amassing all the perfumes of 2012, mixing them together and displaying the mix at Colette under the "art project" name Everything; a monster perfume. After Surplus and La Petite Morte and now this, it seems like scent is the playground of artists who want to carve out a novel way to have people intrigued about their ways. Who knows what's coming up next!

pic via jezebel.com

Jean Claude Ellena: Some of my creations, having undergone as many as 20 market tests, were completely distorted!"

"I really want the client to interpret my fragrances on a personal level. I anticipate ‘weaker’ moments in my perfumes, so that clients can take the time to get used to them and make them their own. This is very important to me, but it is totally out of synch with the current market." - Jean Claude Ellena

The master perfumer at Hermès and legendary nose among this eclectic set of artists, Jean Claude Ellena, has been generous to us with both his time and his mind yet again into sharing his views on what constitutes art in perfumery on independent platform Perfumism.com, the venue where industry insiders and perfume aficionados meet.

You can follow this link to read his fascinating and very honest views on perfumery and how he chooses to work. And leave a comment there (click "comments" under the article to do so), if you'd like to ignite discussion with like-minded people and get heard by Jean Claude himself!

Photo via Ray32.kazeo.com

PERFUMism: What Will be the Talk of Town Soon

Today is a very special day! Contrary to many others, I don't usually broadcast what I'm doing outside the scope of Perfume Shrine on these pages. But today is an exception because it is beyond the merely personal and it embraces the community. I have been working alongside two dedicated people on a common cause which is groundbreaking, innovative and will hopefully rekindle the discourse on the genuine love of perfumery and help the industry take notice.

PERFUMism.com is a new platform, totally uncommercial, completely independent, and utterly respectful to those who will partake of its content. It is unlike anything else that exists in the perfume community today in that it aims to communicate serious thoughts on scents and the people involved with them (we have invited acclaimed perfumers, industry insiders, distributors and exhibitors) beyond the overused concept of niche and "art" which is brandished like the latest It-bag in the blogosphere and the discussion fora. Art will feature naturally too, but will it be a pretentious facade to make money or stroke fragile egoes? No, most assuredly not! We're totally against vanity projects!

PERFUMism is a kick in the groin in that it will tell truths! It will not fear, it will not hold back, it will not mollify or caress ears and will question everything! Along with mme Rebecca Veuillet-Gallot, the renowned author of Le Guide du Parfum and the Patricia de Nicolai Parisian boutique-keeper, and Andy Tauer, the well-loved artisan perfumer who financed this new platform, we have been brainstorming on making a difference in the industry. With our passion and with the fertile discourse which you are invited to provide, we hope to effectuate the changes which we have been all praying for for a long while now...
So, without further ado, you're invited to check out the PERFUMism site, to leave a message at the ShoutBox (on the right hand corner, please leave a comment if you feel like it), take a tour and see if something catches your eye, and to subscribe ~entirely for FREE~ to our quarterly newsletter for news and press. Just click the link! There is also a Facebook page and a Twitter page, from where you can follow us.

My personal aim in participating on PERFUMism is to get a powerful message across that perfumery shouldn't be exploited as the new "It" money-maker, but as the only refuge of sensualists in an increasingly sensory-deprived and sterilised world! I am leaving you with a couple of words by Andy which resonate his thought-process behind this innovative concept championing true art in perfumery: "I am finally here, at the starting point, of something new and exciting, collaborative and driven by the quest to move. I am finally here, and I can make a statement. I am not niche! And now, we will start inviting others to join us. We are not many, but we are the few who will make a difference. That's what PERFUMism is about: Making a difference in the world of perfumes".

Perfume Appreciation & the Quest for Objective Beauty

It is all too often that I come across pronouncements having to do with differing perceptions on fragrances that end with "Everyone is different and perfume is so subjective" or "One woman's poison is another woman's meat" (no reference to any specific Dior fragrance infered!). I fully realise that it is a polite way to agree to disagree. Nevertheless it accounts for a severe skewing of perception of art forms and muddling of "beauty"(i.e. harmony) vs. "attractiveness" (i.e. personal associations and quirks). The two are not interchangeable, nor mutually exclusive or inclusive.

If we are to consider perfumery as an art form (a concept that was pioneered by Edmond Roudnitska and increasingly popular in our days of niche brands plethora) such pronouncements present something of an oxymoron. Something can be beautiful and nevertheless not attract you personally, just as much as something can be ~by virtue of the common denominator~ termed ugly and yet you find yourself madly enamored with it! This is because beauty and attraction are two completely different qualities and to muddle between the two amounts to a confusion of aesthetic principles. So without escalating this into a manifesto, let's disentangle the matter as pertains to perfumery and its aesthetics.

If perfumery is to be held as an art form, then it should capitulate to the rules of other art forms: It should be judged on aesthetic grounds and present measurable qualitative and quantitative criteria. Aesthetics is generally viewed as the "critical reflection on art, culture and nature." and as such it is subordinate to axiology (a branch of philosophy). The very word has an interesting etymology that brings us closer to its true core: αξία in Greek means value, as in monetary value, but more importantly in this case as moral value, i.e. as an ideal to be reached. Therefore aesthetics and art philosophy in general aim at establishing and questioning the moral values shaping any specific art form (NB. By "moral" I do not refer to Judeo-Christian nuances of the term).

The experience of "beauty" often involves interpreting an entity (a human being, a painting, a perfume...) as being in balance with nature or presenting a view of harmony; in essence this is the classical ideal, a concept that considers the context as important, thus rendering a replica of Capella Sixtina's dome in the lounge of a Las Vegas casino ultimately kitch, same as wearing an extrait de parfum by Chanel in order to denote one's superior taste or social status [But more on that on our article on kitch here].
This harmonious coexistence might in turn produce feelings of attraction and emotional well-being. Because this is a subjective experience, the pronouncement that "beauty is in the eye of the beholder" is often referenced. Defenders of this view consider beauty to engender a salient experience, reflecting on the meaning of their own existence, therefore imbuing beauty with personal resonance. However as with everything a little more in depth exploring is warranted.

The classical Greek adjective for "beautiful" is καλός (ka-LOS), as in καλός καγαθός in Homer (It denotes excellence in character, social status and physical attributes, all at once). The Koine Greek word for beautiful in contrast was ὡραῖος (hō-RE-os) which derives from ὥρα (hōra), meaning "hour." Therefore being of "one's hour", in context with time and place was considered the mark of true beauty. Our society that produces fruit outside their normal time-frame in greenhouses and puts women under the knife for them to appear younger (or encourages teenagers to abandon their fresh looks in favour of an oversexualised, mature image) is clearly out of synch with this concept. Consider how when judging a perfume we are ascertaining its place within its historical context, like we did with Chanel No.46 or Patou's Ma Collection fragrances, but also how it should present a quality of timelessness, like for instance the classical vetiver colognes that shaped the genre. Certainly there are fragrances 'of their time' and 'for all time' and sometimes the two wonderfully interlap (Eau Sauvage, Coty Chypre, Guerlain Shalimar to name but a few).

But agreeing on specific terms doesn't always come naturally. Immanuel Kant brings the example of a man: "If he says that Canary wine is agreeable he is quite content if someone else corrects his terms and reminds him to say instead: It is agreeable to me," because "Everyone has his own (sense of) taste" (1790). The case of "beauty" differs from mere "agreeableness" nevertheless because, "If he proclaims something to be beautiful, then he requires the same liking from others; he then judges not just for himself but for everyone, and speaks of beauty as if it were a property of things."
This truth may appear almost fascist to today's political correct sensibilities of tolerance and acceptance of difference, but like with accessing Leni Rifensthal's Triumph of the Will, there might be moral reasons to feel horror because of it, but aesthetic reasons to feel awe all the same. The axiom that emerged in the 19th century romanticism milieu became "Beauty is in the eye of the beholder" evoking a perception of ugliness as potentially mistaken or short-sighted. Popular fairy tales taught from the cradle onwards, such as The Ugly Duckling by Hans Christian Andersen, helped cement this idea.

Yet the saying is a perverted twist on the most unexpected source: Plato! Plato argued powerfully in favour of the objectivity of certain values, such as good, beauty and truth, mapping them outside an individual's sphere of perception or belief. Talk about irony! In his philosophical system ~as displayed most famously in the Allegory of the Cave~ there are two worlds, the physical one in which we live and another, abstract world of unchanging truth; the physical world seen as a mere reflection of the more perfect abstract world (A modern twist of which is found in The Matrix of all things). In Symposium, the Greek idealist philosopher advises: "Remember how in that communion only, beholding beauty with the eye of the mind, he will be enabled to bring forth, not images of beauty, but realities (for he has hold not of an image but of a reality), and bringing forth and nourishing true virtue to become the friend of God and be immortal, if mortal man may." A mental judgement of beauty does not exclude that there is a specific idea of beauty, in fact αξία, a moral value! (On that note Drew A. Hyland wrote an interesting book named Plato and the Question of Beauty)

The ambiguity of the Sophists movement in 5th century BC Athens ("everything is relevant, everything is subjective") culminated (via the Neoplatonics) into the romantic notion of subjective beauty, which coincided with the "widening" of the world into empires that spun two hemispheres: The shift from Victorian to Edwardian ideals as pertains to beauty and art are a mere example. Judgments of aesthetic value were also linked to judgments of economic or political value, focusing on what a thing symbolises and thus judging the thing through its symbolic value. The emergence of luxury perfume houses and purveyors of fine cosmetics (Guerlain, Houbigant, L.T. Piver, Lancome) bore a role of ascertaining a social position that was marked by acknowledging beauty and reaping its benefits.

Aesthetic judgment usually goes beyond sensory discrimination. David Hume proclaims delicasy of taste as "the ability to detect all the ingredients in a composition" (discerning all notes in a perfume?), but supplements it with the sensitivity "to pains as well as pleasures, which escape the rest of mankind", indavertedly jump-starting the whole modernist theory of art that is conceived to shock or repel (compare this with the desire of perfumephiliacs to explore the arcane and the initially "weird"). Sensory discrimination is therefore linked to a capacity for "pleasure" and when pleasure arises from sensation then we have "enjoyment" (as per Kant) But this sensation as explained in The Critique of Judgment correlates the "beautiful" with engaging reflective contemplation, rendering any pronouncement on beauty a sensory, emotional and intellectual endeavour all at once.

Therefore in order to ascertain the beauty of a perfume, one should employ beyong the gut feeling of like/dislike some other criteria:

• How well does the fragrance converse what it has to say? (And does it have something to say in the first place?) 
• How well does it intergate into its genre and into its time-frame? 
• How well does it balance the facets and create its message? 
• How well does it stay on skin? 
• Is the perfumer or art director in possession of a distinct style uniquely his/her own? (For instance Jean Claude Ellena, Isabelle Doyenne, Serge Lutens, Michel Roudnitska and some others clearly are) 

One can absolutely dislike something that they respect as a work of art and vice versa.  Not everyone likes the Taxi Driver, but it's a great movie for several reasons. Many people love the Beach Boys but they're not on an artistic par with the Beatles, say, again for several reasons.
There needs to be an end to the political correctness of "everyone smells differently/ perhaps it's my chemistry" in order for the perfume community to accept fragrance not merely as a sent bon (nothing wrong with that, per se) but as an art form.
Perhaps the wittiest epilogue is decidely low-brow but, ah, so apt: "Beauty is in the eye of the beholder and it may be necessary from time to time to give a stupid or misinformed beholder a black eye."

So, on to you: what do you think?


Light bulbs with flame via cache.wists.com. Painting of fat nude by Jenny Saville via blog.robbiecooper.org. Parisian illustration from 1922 via lovesponge03/photobucket.

Inspired by 1000frsgrances

Art Revered for the Sake of Reverence?

In the film “How to steal a million” (William Wyler,1966) the plot revolves around a prized Cellini Venus lent by the heroine’s father to a respected Paris museum; the minor detail is the Venus statuette was not sculpted by Cellini but by Nicole's grandfather, who is a forger! (Art frauds are nothing new) The audience is kept at such a distance thanks to technological systems guarding the art piece that no one can discern the truth.
Yet audiences and critics don’t want to see the sculpture itself, they insist in admiring its value. It’s a monetary value, to be sure, but, more than that, a value of prestige. The work of art is exalted not merely because it is beautiful, but because it has been globally tagged as beautiful. [Of course, if you missed that day at school, art history courses are available online to discuss this in more detail.]

On another real-life occasion a lady reading a newspaper exclaims “By Jove, a Guido Reni painting has sold for X million dollars! Who is this Reni, anyway?!” Another customer at the same café informs her he’s a famous painter. “But how did he manage to become so famous? Those painters have it good! Ah, he’s a 17th century painter, I see…”. And with that decisive tidbit read in the length of the article she returns to her coffee appeased.
What do these incidents teach us and how are they related to art and subsequently perfumery (a form of art for some)?


First of all any piece put on a pedestal is there to be worshipped, it isn’t asking or giving anything really. This is true with paintings and sculptures at the Louvre (your arms would fall off if you attempted to touch the Venus de Milo, such is the guarding!) but also of anything that has attained the status of “masterpiece” such as legendary perfumes (Shalimar, Chanel No.5, Mitsouko, Miss Dior, Cabochard…) Worshipping an art piece ~especially if we are not certain of its authenticity or its well-preserved state or if we do not instinctively like it~ transforms it into a fetish: we do not derive pleasure from it in real time but from the pleasure it had induced in the past! Perhaps to people whom we did not even know! Since the current Shalimar in production is but a pale spectre of itself, how much of this reverence is genuinely heart-felt and how much is cultural upbringing? And how poignant the line in another film is, "The Object of Beauty" (Michael Lindsay-Hogg, 1991) in which the rich couple debate whether to sell the wife’s Henry Moore sculpture, right until it gets stolen, whereas the deaf-mute maid admires it for its beauty rather than the value it represents voicing this immortal line: “It spoke to me; and I heard”.
In artistic terms, the phenomenon of feeling a pre-digested and codified emotion is called Kitsch.

Usually “Kitsch [is] defined as an aesthetically impoverished object of shoddy production, meant more to identify the consumer with a newly acquired class status than to invoke a genuine aesthetic response”. [1]

But in the words of Hermann Broch [2], Kitsch is not only a replica or a vulgar upstart but the entire Modern Art genre from Romanticism onwards ~the latter emphasized the need for expressive and evocative art work, you see~, since art is being made unto a purpose in itself and to be consumed as beauty. In other words, it’s being produced as a museum piece on a pedestal! Broch also accuses kitsch of not participating in the development of art, having its focus directed at the past.

Secondly, we note the graceful, forgiving halo of time. In our example of Guido Reni, if the painter lived, the lady would be livid on how he attained such selling prices. Now that he’s dead, somehow it is considered proper and justified to be famous and valued expensively. Reverting to perfumes, an old perfume is certainly viewed as better than a new release. Or isn’t it? This is especially significant if we notice that in the discussion there was no mention whatsoever of the beauty of Reni’s paintings, only the time-frame in which they were created and the fact that they still circulate. And there is also a kind of appeased class envy: if Reni was alive, there would be some, whereas now there is none. Additionally a crucial aspect isn’t pointed: someone sold the painting for X millions and therefore profited that amount. However that monetary aspect ~which is rampant in the perfumes auctioning as well~ justified via the values of perceived beauty and time elapsed is eluding the aspiring middle-class audience who is brought up to believe in humanistic values instead. According to that Kant dictum, values are intrinsic (thus beauty is a thing of its own and not “in the eye of the beholder”, otherwise there can not be universal masterpieces and the Mona Lisa could be equated with Lucy in the Field with Flowers at MOBA); or alternatively they are born out of a plane of existence more elevated than the audience’s own. Enter the sanctioned plane of the perfume critic who surely “knows”, therefore his/her opinion is more valid than one’s own experience. But that is also another manifestation of kitsch in the sense explained above!
This is why we read such statements as:

“I tried it [Douce Amère by Serge Lutens] for the first time last night and it did not work for me, sadly. Am I just not far enough along in this hobby to appreciate frags like this? Will I like it later? I can tell that it's well composed and appreciate it-- but I don't like the way that it smells”. [3]

And why blind tests between a cheaply produced perfume sur-mesure and a real expensive one do not always play out as one would have expected!

Virginia Woolf captured these problematics in her famous "middlebrow" discussion. [4]Whereas low-brows like that they like, crude as it might be or not (Emannuel Kant describes the direct appeal to the senses as "barbaric" which might be a wonderful reference when experiencing Dioressence, formally introduced as “le parfum barbare”! Think about it!), high-brows like what their elitist stance manifests into creating. Which leaves middle-brows: On the whole they are educated people who aspire into bettering themselves through the appreciation of art.
This indadvertedly reminded me of Philipe Martinet’s scorn on Ingmar Bergman[5]:

“He is the hero of that peculiar creature of our times -the wannabe, the pseudo, the pretend-intellectual who finds the incomprehensible to be profound, the obscure to be enlightening and the disgusting to be ennobling”.

Yet, editor Russell Lynes satirized Virginia Woolf’s concept in the article "Highbrow, Lowbrow, Middlebrow" [6], attributing the distinctions to a means of upholding cultural superiority and subtly lauded middlebrows in their zeal. His parodying of the highbrow claim that the products a person uses distinguishes his/her level of cultural worth, by satirically identifying the products tied to a middlebrow person, has a real and tangible significance in the world of perfume use. Are we better, more educated, more discerning, and more “in the know” because we appreciate an obscure niche scent such as By Kilian Liaisons Dangereuses? Is the effect even more pronounced and pointed as an external attribute because it costs a lot of money too? Does the trend of high-end exclusive lines within mainstream brands (Prada and Armani boutique exclusives, Guerlain Les Parisiennes, Chanel Les Exclusifs etc.), constitute an aesthetic middlebrow manifestation apart from a marketing technique?

Let’s also examine the instance in which an artist (a perfumer?) is invited to spend the day amidst bourgeois society, where he/she is bombarded with questions pertaining to inner meanings of art and philosophy, resulting in equating the artist with how once upon a time the court jester was regarded: someone to provide pleasure and some degree of the inner workings of life and art (Compare with the Shakespearean fool in "King Lear")

I do not purport to have all the answers, but the discussion is open to all and I welcome your input. Milan Kundera said it best in "The Unbearable Lightness of Being":

“Kitsch causes two tears to flow in quick succession. The first tear says: How nice to see children running on the grass! The second tear says: How nice to be moved, together with all mankind, by children running on the grass! It is the second tear that makes kitsch kitsch”

May we all remember that when faced with a revered perfume!


Thanks to Angela of NST for inspiring this stream of thoughts in the first place.

Refs:
[1]Kitsch definition
[2] Hermann Broch overview
[3] MUA fragrance board quote
[4]Woolf, Virginia. "Middlebrow." The Death of the Moth, and Other Essays. London, Hogarth P., 1942.
[5]What the heck is art.blogspot.com
[6]Lynes, Russell. The Tastemakers. New York, Harper, 1954.
Pics of How to Steal a Million with Audrey Hepburna & Peter O'Toole via doctormacro1.info and Absolut ad via gone4sure.files.wordpress

Absinthe Series 2: the Green Fairy Muse

Absinthe and its hallucinogenic reputation have contributed to the mythos of it being the drink of artists and poets who harnessed its "lucid intoxication" to produce works of inimitable fantasy. Through these works of visual and written art, the audience can almost taste and smell the bittersweet licorice flavour of la fée verte responsible; the imagery presents itself so vividly as if we are imbuing the green liquid ourselves.
People like Paul Verlaine, Arthur Rimbaud, Toulouse-Lautrec, Vincent Van Gogh, Pablo Picasso, Oscar Wilde, Aleister Crowley and Ernest Hemingway weren't just casual drinkers; they grabbed their paintbrushes and pens in an effort to manifest how the green fairy affected and presumambly wrecked them. Whether the wormwood-based spirit is accountable is besides the point: the tale is a charming one and thus worth recounting, which we will proceed to do.

Among the many paintings focused on absinthe, there are those which place the emphasis on the ethereal fantasy of the muse and her influence on the psyche and those which depict the sad end of the drinkers coming about via regular consumption of the addictive potion.
In the former category, one such masterpiece is Albert Maignan's Green Muse (1865): It shows a brazen spirit, running her fingers through the poet's hair with a naughty look in her eyes, up to mischief. It seems that she materialises through the fragrant vapours of the alcoholic drink, in a haze of anise and licorice, to make the poet eventually succumb to her charms.
Czech painter Viktor Oliva also focused on the fantasy, painting an almost translucent green fairy perched on the table, invisible to the besotted man sitting there but visible to the viewer who perceives that the vacant look of the drinker is an internal eye to the marvels opened up to him through the magic of the fairy.

On the other hand, Edgar Degas chose to focus on the darker side, using a muddy palette with melancholic overtones in his famous sullen woman who drinks an absinthe cocktail in L'absinthe (1876). Interestingly Degas never named the painting thus and the title must have originated through the dealer or the collector. Edouart Manet, himslef an absinthe consumer, went the same route with his The Absinthe Drinker (1858), showing a standing man, top-hatted, in the shadows, with a bottle of absinthe that has been dregged of its contents lying at his feet.
Vincent Van Gogh and Pablo Picasso also devoted copious paintbrushes to the jade liquid. Van Gogh along with Paul Gaugin indulged in heavy absinthe drinking while in Arles, which only augmented the epileptic crises of the former forcing him to retreat to a sanatorium in his twilight years and finally taking his own life. Of course absinthe is not solely to blame: he had been known to ingest turpentine in numerous occasions as well!



But the written word is no poorer when it comes to the green fairy, as we already hinted. The roots go far back:

For the lips of an adulteress drip honey,
And smoother than oil is her speech;
But in the end she is bitter as wormwood,
Sharp as a two-edged sword.
Her feet go down to death,
Her steps lay hold of Sheol.

~Proverbs 5:4

French poet Arthur Rimbaud, rebel child-prodigy and nicknamed first "punk poet" knew the feel of the fairy's touch intimately. In the following verse perhaps an allusion to a secret marriage is infered through the use of the word "chalice".

"When the poet's pain is soothed by a liquid jewel held in the sacred chalice, upon which rests the pierced spoon, the crystal sweetness, icy streams trickle down. The darkest forest melts into an open meadow. Waves of green seduce. Sanity surrendered, the soul spirals toward the murky depths, wherein lies the beautiful madness - absinthe." ~Peggy Amond, American poet

This intense, sensual description of the enrapture that absinthe evokes in the poet's soul reminds us of the olfactory journey which we undertake when exploring the unusual aromas of its herbal character.
His poet lover, Paul Verlaine, already an alcoholic before trying absinthe, died in 1896, drinking to the end. He had obviously repented of his absinthe addiction as revealed in his Confessions, published one year before:

"...later on I shall have to relate many [...]absurdities which I owe to my abuse of this horrible drink: this drink, this abuse itself, the source of folly and crime, of idiocy and shame, which governments should tax heavily if they do not suppress it altogether: Absinthe!"

In one of those fits he had destroyed the foetuses of aborted pregnancies that his -no doubt unconventional!- mother kept in the cellar.

Others were more sympathetic. Whether Charles Baudelaire, this magician of smells, speaks of absinthe in his poetry is not conclusive. He certainly insists on wine and opiates, which he mysteriously compares to something merely named "poison" in his famous poem "Le Poison":

"Yet all this pales next to the poison that flows from your eyes, like a green caress, from those lakes where I see my soul in reverse, where my dreams come in throngs to quench their thirst in chasms of bitterness"

~Charles Baudelaire, Le Poison (abridged)

The rumours that American gothic poet Edgar Allan Poe, whom Baudelaire heavily used as an inspiration, along with his drunkeness was also inebriated by absinthe have not been substanciated yet.
"A Queer Night in Paris" by Guy de Maupassant describes the smells and sensations of absinthe in the streets of Paris and makes an overt reference: "M. Saval sat down at some distance from them and waited, for the hour for taking absinthe was at hand” (commonly named "the green hour").

Oscar Wilde, famous for his sensual side as well as his wit, referenced many fragrant materials in The Portrait of Dorian Gray and wore a carnation on his lapel every day. He spoke of the green fairy thus:

“Absinthe has a wonderful colour, green. A glass of absinthe is as poetical as anything in the world. What difference is there between a glass of absinthe and a sunset?”

and

“The first stage is like ordinary drinking, the second when you begin to see monstrous and cruel things, but if you can persevere you will enter in upon the third stage where you see things that you want to see, wonderful curious things.

Another Brit shared his passion:

"What is there in absinthe that makes it a separate cult? ... Even in ruin and in degradation it remains a thing apart: its victims wear a ghastly aureole all their own, and in their peculiar hell yet gloat with a sinister perversion of pride that they are not as other men."

~Aleister Crowley, through Oxygenee.com

It was 1918, when Aleister Crowley, famous British occultist who earned the sobriquet "wickedest man in the world", composed a lyrical essay on the aesthetics of absinthe. Named "Absinthe - The Green Goddess" it was allegedly written while waiting for a woman in the Old Absinthe House in New Orleans. A lyrical poem, "The Legend of Absinthe", inspired by Greek mythology and devoted to the drink, was found among his manuscripts bearing a phallic symbol at the capital A for Apollo, claiming that absinthe "exalts his soul in ecstasy". {click to read and see the manuscripts}

“Then in 1900 everybody got down off his stilts; henceforth nobody drank absinthe with his black coffee; nobody went mad; nobody committed suicide; nobody joined the Catholic church; or if they did I have forgotten . . . Victorianism had been defeated”

~George Watson Yeats, Victorianism, and the 1890s

Ernest Hemingway, arguably a latecomer to the cult after its 1915 ban who must have procured his through Cuba and Spain, wrote of an evening heavy on absinthe in a 1931 letter:

“Got tight last night on absinthe and did knife tricks. Great success shooting the knife underhand into the piano. The woodworms are so bad and eat hell out of all the furniture that you can always claim the woodworms did it.”

Charmingly punny that he used "woodworm" along with the inferred "wormwood" which forms the basic accord of the green drink!
And again and again he references it: For Whom the Bell Tolls, Death in the Afternoon and in Hills like White Elephants with its controversial, although never bluntly spoken theme of abortion. Jig asks "That's all we do, isn't it? Look at things and try new drinks?" to which the heroine replies that even exciting new things held in waiting for a long time, like absinthe, merely end up "tasting like liquorice". Perhaps absinthe's taste stands as a metaphor for her need for more stability in lieu of their hedonistic lifestyle so far.

"It was a milky yellow now with the water and he hoped the gypsy would not take more than a swallow. One cap of it took the place of the evening papers, of all the old evenings in cafes, of all chestnut trees that would be in bloom now in this month, of the great slow horses of the outer boulevards, of book shops, of kiosks, and of galleries, of the Parc Montsouris, of the Stade Buffalo, and of the Butte Chaumont, of the Guaranty Trust Company and the Ille de la Cite, of Foyot’s old hotel, and of being able to read and relax in the evening; of all the things he had enjoyed and forgotten and that came back to him when he tasted that opaque, bitter, tongue-numbing, brain-warming, stomach-warming, idea changing liquid alchemy.”

~Ernest Hemingway, For Whom the Bell Tolls, ch.4


To be continued with a breakdown of wormwood and anise perfumes

Paintings by Maignan, Oliva and Degas courtesy of wikimedia commons.
Clip of Van Gohg and Absinthe originally uploaded by Vanroe44 and of Green Fairy , based on Léon Spilliaert's painting "The Absinth Drinker" by Adrammalek on Youtube.

Optical scentsibilities: the allure of the sofa

Many times a simple object holds a fascination beyond its functionality. Like sofas... They are lovely to cushion our derriere, but have we paused to think how they also suggest an atmosphere of nonchalance that is eminently befitting perfume images?
Not surprisingly the thought has crossed the minds of perfume photographers and illustrators for a long time. For Coco, the baroque oriental by Chanel an equally decorative sofa from the appartment of Coco Chanel on Rue Cambon has been selected to hold the porcelain curves of model Shalom Harlow.



While for Christian Dior it was Dioressence and illustrator Rene Gruau that took the sofa into the realm of the decadent and sybaritic. One can almost feel the feline look in the eye of the woman in the ad, as her face is partially masked by the big, colourful cushions resting atop a schematic sofa.

But there also less classical examples of perfumes that use the reclining on a sofa pose to very good effect....
Isabella by Isabella Rossellini, a warm powdery floriental


Still by Jennifer Lopez, a limpid floral


Byzance by Rochas, a warm and deep oriental

Perhaps one could trace this tendency way back to venues other than perfume. To art and its effect on the collective subconsious that tends to find similarities and recall familiar images, even if not consiously perceptive.
After the ball by Margaret Dyer uses an impressionistic palette and brushstroke to show the contemplation of the heroine, hand under chin, reminiscing about the highlights of the event; such a formal occassion should have demanded her best perfume, surely.


Natasha Gellman by Diego Rivera was painted in 1943 and is full of the usual clear, bright palette of Rivera in almost an illustration which depicts a glamorous lady of the times reclining on a sofa amidst white blossoms which seem to emit their own rich aroma.



But of course the archetype is probably Madame de Pompadour by Francois Bouchet, painted in 1757 and rounding off the theme of contemplation, elegance and languor, as expressed in the trails of beautiful essences that must have adorned her lavish clothes.





Pics of ads from parfumdepub and okadi. Paintings: After the ball by Margaret Dyer, Natasha Gellman by Diego Rivera and Madame de Pompadour by Francois Bouchet. Courtesy of art.com, allposters.com and madamedepompadour.com

Dior sketch ads: how lovely!

How can an obituary be glamorous? Or related to scent barring the mental connection with funeral flowers? Well, it can, if it involves René Gruau, chief visualiser and illustrator for parfums Christian Dior.
Here is his obuitary from the Guardian:

"René Gruau (Count Renato Zavagli Ricciardelli delle Camminate), graphic artist, born February 4 1909; died March 31 2004" (from the Guardian 15 April 2004)

Guardian obituaries

It says so little...In fact it was exactly Gruau that persuaded Dior to accept the offer of textile magnate Marcel Boussac to help establish a fashion house. After all not many know that Christian Dior began as an illustrator himself. The rest is of course history.

Born in Rimini, Italy, in 1910 as Renato Conte de Savagli-Ricardelli, he had a French mother, Marie Gruau, who was known as a great beauty and must surely be held responsible for providing the son with his first glimpse of beauty that culminated in his vision and aesthetic explorations.

Interestingly he borrowed his mother's name, of which he used "G" for a signature, visible on his sketches for Dior, surmounted by what seems to be a star based on an ink-splash (later he put this symbol on his Rolls-Royce, of all things!)
Using a heavier charcoal outline or thick paint brush was his signature look at an era that preferred watercolours and delicate delineations. It was his modernity that differentiated him and which was a companion till the very end, making his work seem current even today in a world that has practically seen everything.
Apart from Dior he also did illustrations for Balmain, Lanvin, Schiaparelli and his favourite, Balenciaga. He was also instrumental in trying to give a younger image to Givenchy couture. Not to forget his work for films (who can forget his "La Dolce Vita" or "French CanCan" art posters?)and for "glossies": Flair, Vogue and Harper's Bazaar. His provision for Moulin Rouge and Lido remind us of another famous artist of posters with arguably low subjects turned into high art: Toulouse-Lautrec.
But his work for Dior parfums is crystallised someplace in the best part of perfume lovers' mind.

We can see in this not often referenced pic of the first three Dior fragrances that the three perfumes look to be embodients of three "sisters", dressed in comparable fashions: the outlines of the bodies hidden beneath meters of cloth, their heads clothed in loose hoods. The choice of rose, black and white seems to be characteristic of Gruau's palette, even to the modern day. Here they represent different olfactory profiles. It would be interesting to guess which is which! Of course the easiest one would be to attribute white to Diorissimo, it being a more virginal lily of the valley scent (although, not quite!). But which is Miss Dior and which Diorama? Therein lies the charm.

"Some of his artworks were what we now call "brand images" - the pearl-necklaced swan he dreamed up for Miss Dior perfume after Dior gave him a whiff and a briefing" (quote from the Guardian article above). Here it is from 1950. A true classic, just like a string of lustruous pearls on a delicate lily throat.

However apart from vulnerability, there is also the hint of the animalistic in Miss Dior that is so evocatively suggested in this 1949 advertisement: a woman's hand resting on a leopard's paw. The long fingers of a pale feminine hand resting on the spotted fur. Elegance and ferociousness rolled into one burst of olfactory mirth; like the glorious parfum itself!

In 1950 he draw an image of a woman almost melting into a what seems like a giant white lotus flower in a pool of black ink. It also vaguely reminds us of the pon-pon of dusting powder; which is not averse to the dry feel of chypré perfumes, of which Diorama {click here for review} and Miss Dior are great examples, for which the ad was conceived (it run for both).
Gloriously simple, gloriously evocative.

The elegant sweep of his intense brushstrokes can be seen in this Dior Dior advertisement from 1978. The black "ribbon" both delineates the dress (witness the sleeve and the drape of the cloth sketched in a sweep) and his signature. I call this an apotheosis of design calligraphy. Don't you?

Diorella always had the air of independence and élan that is so characteristic to the French parfum du jour. We might as well mention here that although France is considered to be the olfactory capital of the world, this by no means equals heavy bombastic perfumes being considered bon chic bon genre for the day. It is much more elegant to save the romantic and seductive potions for the night, the opera and the ballet or the club than for the errands of the day. For those instances classy BCBG Parisians opt for something light and zingy, like Diorella. {click here for review} And which image denotes an active woman off to town better than this one, pants and boots encasing dynamic gams, sketched by Gruau?

"He limned sexy gentlemen's limbs for the men's range Eau Sauvage far into the 1980s" (quote from the Guardian article above). And what an intriguing idea this is! It hints at both mystery (the hidden torso and face) as well as virility (the hairy legs). This came out in 1966. They just don't make them like this anymore... On a subsequent image from 1970 (interesting to note that by then the sexual revolution was in full swing), the white bathrobe is substituted by a piece of furry hide that plays upon the "sauvage" (=wild) connotation.
Less intriguing than the previous incarnation, but just as playful.

"Perhaps this latter image would befit the 1980s flanker Eau Sauvage Extreme to a T, in its black opaque bottle and ferocious name. The white bathrobe however wasn't abandonded, resurfacing again in 1971, 1977 and 1978. Some things are just too good to let go!

A great artist and a witty man, to be sure.



If I have persuaded you to take an interest in this artist's work, take a moment to revel in these glorious fashion sketches....

We will continue with the Dior chypres shortly. Stay tuned!

Pics from artnet, operagloves and okadi

The Dior Chypres series ~1.the hidden force: Edmond Roudnitska

Edmond Roudnitska

Perfume Shrine embarked on a mission: to disect and discuss one of the bastions of chypre: la maison Dior in its former glory, when under the baguette of Edmond Roudnitska and Paul Vacher it produced classics that remain up there in the pantheon for all of us to worship.

Edmond Roudnitska is probably the one name you simply need to drop if you want to appear as if you have at least a passing knowledge of scent. Of course name dropping is completely ridiculous, especially when used to prove that someone knows anything about anything, but the practice does not diminish the value of this Ukranian émigré who started as an assistant to Ernest Beaux; the Russian perfumer to the czars who made the legend of Chanel parfums almost single-handedly. Did his apprenticeship serve him well? More than that.

Roudnitska became much more than an artist of high calibre in the fragrant galaxy or a point of reference. He also pondered theoretically on the subject of perfume through his prolific writing and his polemic to establish perfume creation as an art form, especially in his book “Le parfum” in the “Que sais-je?” series (now out of print), “L’ésthetique en question” and “L’intimité du parfum”. But the dialectic he inaugurated has survived in his dictum (from a speech given on 20 November 1952 in Paris):

“For it to be considered Art, smell ceases to be a sense to be satisfied to rather become a medium. Thus perfumes will be spiritual compositions and the public will be able to initiate themselves into olfactive forms”.

For him it is not the sense of smell or the materials that are important, but rather the spirit which, playing with forms, will coax the latter with the aid of the former. This point of view had been forgotten for decades when perfumes came out with the eye more on the commercial than the artistic, only to be revived when certain niche companies came into the fore dynamically. Roudnitska bases his axiom in the comparison to other art forms (as mapped out by Etienne Souriau).

“A beautiful perfume is the one which gives us a shock: a sensory one followed by a psychological one. A beautiful perfume is one with happy proportions and an original form”.

One criterion is the pre-thought-out process that precedes composition, contrasting popular myths about “happy accidents” (too much aldehydes in Chanel No.5, vanillin in Jicky producing the basic accord for Shalimar) and certainly the rumour that Jean Carles composed by instinct rather than plan. Therefore artistic perfume composition should focus in evoking odours in an abstract manner. In this he found an eminable successor in Jean Claude Ellena who composes with pen and paper at hand and not concocting alloys at some secret lab. Emphasis on the interaction of materials with one another is also highly regarded.
Additionally, perfume composition should be unique, much like a musical piece, and protected against “plagiarism”. To this he was adamant. He would be sadly disillusioned to find out that nowadays there are hundreds of fragrances that are composed with gas chromatograph and mass spectometer at the side of the unlucky recipient of a perfume brief from a big company: that is, to replicate a best-selling fragrance adding a minimal twist. This is where the education of the public comes into the fore, as well as the possibility of expression both personal and national or era-related through perfume.

Perhaps one of Roudnitska’s best known triumphs -alongside Diorissimo, the iconic lily of the valley fragrance- is the classic Rochas chypre Femme {click here for review}. In this he explored the concept of the fruity chypre with touches of aldehyde and powder rendering a fragrance at once opulent, alluring and elegant. Himself he renounced the moniker of “chypre” for it. In an article appearing in Perfumer and Flavorist magazine in December 1987, he describes Femme as

“floral, aldehydic and very fruity, with the double characteristic of woodiness and sweetness”.

This was due to the antithesis to Coty’s prototype but probably also due to a desire to differentiate from previous fruity exempla, such as Mitsouko. Roudnitska continued to produce scents for Rochas: Mouselline (formely Chiffon), Mouche, Moustache and La Rose.

But it was his meeting with Serge Heftler-Louiche, director of parfums Christian Dior that cemented his style and directed him into a lucrative business and artistic collaboration that lasted for decades and it is interesting to juxtapose the chypres he produced for them with Femme. Christian Dior opened shop in 1945 under the insistence of the businessman Marcel Boussac. A new perspective to fashion was brought with his New Look, which took women back to the era of crinolines, in a way, counter-revolutionising what Cadolle and Chanel had accomplished through the use of pliable materials that helped women become the men in their lives in all areas besides the boudoir. Dior envisioned women in more traditional roles, wasp-waisted like some Minoan goddess and with meters of skirt lengths that challenged the rationed days of the war:

"We were emerging from a period of war, uniforms, female soldiers built like boxers. I was drawing female flowers with soft shoulders, full busts, waists as slim as liana and corolla skirts".

Carmel Snow, editor-in-chief of Harper’s Bazaar remarked:

“It's quite a revolution, dear Christian. Your dresses have such a new look”.

The year was 1947 and Dior came out with his first scent, Miss Dior, as homage to his sister. Credited to Paul Vacher, based on a formula suggested by Jean Carles and reorchastrated by Roudnitska in 1992 in extrait de parfum, it is nothing short of a classic and the introduction of a big trend in the coming years: the floral chypre; but with an animalic twist down the line, of which more later on.
But it was in 1949 that Diorama, a fruity chypre perfume, was created by Roudnitska. With it he found a balance between complexity and clear vision that captures several olfactory nuances: spicy, floral, fruity, animalic and all enrobed in a sensual feminine dress. By this time he began simplifying his palette, making stricter formulae, with a mathematical precision that abandonded notes that served merely for the pleasantry of the senses, like heavy sugary ones, to focus on more spiritual endeavours using purer, strictly “olfactory” notes that aimed at the cerebral rather than the carnal; aiming at elevating scent from the instinct of the reptile cortex into the fully developed Homo sapiens membranes. Eau d’Hermès followed in 1951, all spices galore, and Eau Fraîche for Dior in 1953, comissioned and modeled around Coty’s Cordon Vert eau de cologne (in its turn by Chypre) and by Roudnitska’s own words the only true chypre version in the market (this was in 1993).
In 1963 Paul Vacher produced another chypre in the Dior stable: this time a leathery fragrance, Diorling. With it all elements fall into place into a supreme elegance that is as buttery smooth as the fur of an alpaca coat.

Roudnitska’s most successful –commercially certainly! - scent entered the scene in 1966: Eau Sauvage. A chyprish citrus for men with the daring floral note of jasmine through the use of hedione. In this Roudnitska culminated his aesthetic odyssey of the sparseness of composition with an artistic merit that defies criticism. Diorella (1972), with its foot in the fruity tradition of Diorama, was the feminine chypre counterpart to Eau Sauvage, enigmatically relying on very few materials to give a very fresh, very young fragrance and which Roudnitska himself considered one of the best in his career. Dior Dior, a woody floral perfume, issued in 1976, never took off commercially and was destined to be discontinued till now.

Luckily Diorama and Diorling, two of the pre-eminent chypres in the Dior constellation have been re-issued and will be reviewed shortly along with the other Dior chypres.

Related reading on PerfumeShrine: 
The Dior series, fragrance reviews of classic perfumes




Pic of E.Roudnitska courtesy of artetparfum, Dior ad from parfumsdepub. Translations of quotes from the French by Elena Vosnaki

Art in perfumery part deux: post-modernism?

In my previous post I elaborated on what constitutes art in perfumery and what criteria must apply for it to be defined as such. Some perfume lines were scrutinised in order to decide whether they deserve the term or not. Considering that some perfumes are in some degree artistically conceived and not merely as a means of generating income for the conglomerates that so often produce the majority of perfume today, the next question would be what style and period of art do they belong to and if post-modernism features in there.

Takashi Murakami Super Dob

According to certain theorists all art can roughly be divided into two extremes: classicism and baroque, styles antithetical to one another and with the consistent habit of succeeding one another through the passing of time.
Nota bene that it is of paramount importance for our purposes further on, though, to differentiate those terms clearly. I do not refer only to their standard definitions regularly used. I use them in a broader artistic sense. Thus by classicism we can not only define the ancient greek and roman art, nor the 18th century genre that mimicked some of those attributes, nor still the things that are generally viewed as “classics” by the layman.
Even within ancient greek art (which one would label classic, without thinking twice about it) the two extremes are inherent; the golden century of Pericles that provided such masterpieces as Diadoumenos was swiftly followed just another century after that by the equally exquisite Hellenistic baroque with Laokoon and the Snakes. Surely these two examples cannot be lumped into the same stylistic technique or aim of the artist. One is calm and sure of itself, relying on perfect harmony and rules. The other is full of expressive agony, imbalance and agitation.


In J.K.Huysman’s English translation of his famous book A rebours/Against the grain (Albert & Charles Boni), Havelock Ellis notes in the introduction that classicism is the subjection of detail to the form, the parts subordinated to the whole; while baroque/decadence is the antithesis of that; the glory of the detail above the whole, the homogenous in Spencerian phraseology becoming heterogeneous. Therefore classicism precedes baroque and can also be considered more “correct” as it has its roots into functionality. (the aim is served by the technique and not the other way around). He goes on to give examples from architecture and literature ( early Gothic is classic, late Gothic is decadent, Hume and Gibbon are classic, Emerson and Carlyle decadent)

I couldn’t agree more, even though I am personally drawn to baroque.
Baroque exalts segmentation over the whole, striving for the virtues of individuality. It tries to make beauty out of imbalance and feeling out of clash. Romanticism is baroque. German expressionism is baroque.

In that respect perfumery can also be seen through this lens; series of classical perfumes in contrast to baroque ones.
Classical perfumes are those that have a smooth balance of notes to serve an idea behind them that unifies the whole into one precise image, one specific aim. In my mind such perfumes are Allure by Chanel or Femme by Rochas. They give out a very balanced precise message. Every chord is serving that message: “like me” for Allure; “ravage me” for Femme. The nuances are there to serve the general purpose, no matter what that latter is.

In contrast there are other perfumes that follow a baroque sensibility, focusing on detail: Bal a Versailles, Angelique Encens, Tubereuse Criminelle are orchestrated in segmented glory in order to make us appreciate every evolving stage and hint at various different messages along the way. Although two of those are considered “classics”, this does not by any means refer to the term already discussed, but rather to their endurance to the passing of trends.

To make this issue contemporary and relevant and not an art history lesson, I have pondered on the art movements of the 20th century from post-impressionism to fauves to cubism to Dada, from modern and post-modern to pop art to Damien Hirst. Again the succession of classical style to baroque continues. Perfumery did not have so many phases as the visual arts, but it did have its fluctuations in style which does not mean they are clearly divided always into “pockets” of style. From the revolutionary modern phase of the late 19th century that produced Jicky and on to the roaring 20’s with their Guerlain Shalimar and Caron Tabac Blond to the 50’s with their lighter aldehydics and feminine chypres, to the 70’s with their emancipated scents or hippy-ish oils, to the opulence of the 80’s and on to the sparseness of the 90’s and full circle to the baroque gourmands of recent years.

However it was a comment by a poster on MUA, named Rhian, who got me into thinking that if the great perfume classics are those created before the 1930’s (the period of modernism in art and also the basis of most revolutionary setting of rules for modern perfumery) what exactly personifies the olfactory post-modernism?
Rhian reminded me of Louis Sass, who in his book Madness and Modernism elaborated on the shared disjunctive narratives, surreal images, and incoherence of both post-modern art and schizophrenia, which is intriguing to say the least.
I personally disagree with John Cage's maxim:

"Emotions do not interest me. Emotions have long been known to be dangerous.
You must free yourself of your likes and dislikes."

In my opinion perfumery is deeply rooted to the physical, being a transportation of the senses, so any cerebral interpretation has to go through this aspect still; we react very viscerally to smell, even though we may *think* about the specific stimulus in a certain way. So yes, in that regard perfumery as a whole could be viewed as an antidote to the mind frame of post-modernism.

"Postmodernist fiction is defined by its temporal disorder, its disregard of
linear narrative, its mingling of fictional forms and its experiments with
language."

according to Barry Lewis referring to Kazuo Ishiguro.

The notion that in order to create a post modern perfume one would have to break down the traditional techniques and shatter every well-received knowledge of the masters of the field in order to create something truly baroque to its core is so difficult to come by, though; since modernism is a classical stylistic means, like we agreed, it would follow that post-modernism should embrace the extreme baroque. Thus I cannot for the life of me get beyond two -or three, at gun point- lines that truly produce such a post-modern product. One of them is Serge Lutens for Les Salons du Palais Royal, who is deeply baroque in the most contemporary way in my mind. The mentholated opening that segues into creamy floral is a very post-modern idea. Ditto the warm ashes in conjunction with cool lavender.
The other line is pushing the envelope even more. It’s Comme des Garcons. If there is truly a post-modernist perfume they (and I refer to Rei Kawakubo by “they”) have certainly been the ones producing it.
From the cloning of dust on a lit lamp to burnt rubber to wash drying in the wind and from the Synthetic series to the Incense series to the Guerilla scents they have succeeded to churn out so many innovative and anti-perfume scents that they have earned the laurels of the rather unwearable but oh-so-revered post-modern perfume. Brava! The case for schizophrenia is not far behind.

An essay on art in perfumery

The issue of what constitutes art and what does not has been on my mind for years. Being an historian and having a degree in History of Art as well is no help though, because one would be amazed at the diversity of opinion in such circles as to what exactly would be the deciding factor. As perfumery might be considered an art form by us perfume fanatics, I wanted to discuss what exactly would define it as such and pose some questions.
I was reading an interview of painter and sculptor Fernando Botero -probably South America's greatest living artist today- given to Thanasis Lalas on Vima magazine the other day, which inspired this post.

Botero went on to give 9 suggestions to young artists which pretty much define the meaning of art to me. I roughly translate the suggestions and put my personal comment/explanation in parenthesis. Here they are:

1. Choose the right influence (meaning: the best ones! Get to know that
great masters and get influenced in a constructive way)
2. Art should
give some pleasure (he elaborates by saying he is old school in those
matters and doesn't think that you need a PhD to appreciate art, it just
"clicks" and makes you feel)
3. Develop your own sensibilities (ergo
develop a theoretical thesis about art and its meaning)
4. Abide by your
convictions (develop a personal style)
5. Be a rebel
(innovation, what else?)
6. Look upon your work as if it is someone
else's (objectivity is of paramount importance)
7. We all make
mistakes (he goes on to elaborate that an artwork's main mistake is to have
nothing to say in the first place, which is indeed much to the chagrin of a
modern art appreciator)
8. Success is never complete (personal
growth is tantamount to evolving in one’s style)
9. Art can be greater
than life (What a great line!!)

In that maxim I see a very nice summing up of what art is really all about (to me at least). It should make a point, it should have something to convey, it should innovate and not rely in its self-importance, it should be evolving and growing, making the artist as well as the audience grow with it.
I think it applies not only to sculpture and painting, but to music, literature, theater, you name it! Hence I thought about perfumery, which although does have a commercial aim (since the product of the creation is to be commercialized through marketing, advertising and sales) it does retain an artistic vision, much in the same way that a designer kitchen appliance designed by Phillip Stark can stand on its own as a modern day art piece (an “artefact” of a certain lifestyle, I’m afraid)
So a thing can have an aesthetic value as well as a commercial one, in that it can provide pleasure and to the degree that it does not break any other rule, it can be sold and bought.

JaeLynn (alias), a prolific writer and a poster on some of the fora I frequent said to me this great line and I quote:

“But then you start getting into the Frankfurt Schoolers versus
Jenkins/Hills/et al, which is a darned fine row if I do say so myself. What
constitutes "art" and are there divisions of high/middle/low? To put it
fragrantly, is there (Frankfurt) or is there not (Jenkins gang) a quantitative
and qualitative difference between a Lutens or Malle perfume and a Comptoir Sud
or Britney Spears perfume? “

What could we say to that? What exactly differentiates a Serge Lutens and a Frederic Malle from a Comptoir Sud Pacifique or Britney Spears perfume, if there is indeed a differentiation?

Surely when one approaches the different lines there is some snobbism inherent, especially among those who are just budding into perfume niches, because, let’s face it, the persona of the celebrity promoting the perfume with his/her name on has an uncanny way of entering our subconscious in more ways than one, alternatively influencing us into giving the perfume bonus points or inherent flaws, depending on our perception of Ms. Spears or any other eponymous celebrity or designer for that matter. Because many designers are capitalising on their name too in order to sustain their couture houses which would only crumble to the ground if left to the moguls clients only (after all how many are those and how many gowns could they wear in a given season?).

Lump in that category too overpriced exercises in trends, like sickly foody smells in a hundred different variations imaginable or oils that purportedly have a secret recipe and are all the rage among the famous. They are nothing special appearing as something that could be. Perhaps their art lies in clever marketing, but maybe that is a science after all?
Only blind testing would provide objective data in that stratum and we know this is a utopia for most of us when testing those particular scents.
Nevertheless, the one salient characteristic of most commercial perfumes is their ability to appeal and be pleasant across the boards for initiated and uninitiated alike. By that I do not mean that they are great, fabulous, wonderful or anything along those lines, because despite their pleasantness they often fail to make one genuinely interested and involved, leading to the launch of another new one that will in its turn become obsolete after the 5-year-time frame that modern day perfumes work within. They are perhaps too boring and forgettable to compel us to renew our purchase, so we become serial monogamists: using the new scent until the juice finishes and then on to another. They do smell inoffensive and “nice” though and sometimes being composed by the same noses who make other niche compositions with often comparable ingredients might beg the question why they aren’t considered art as well, per dictum number 2 discussed already.

The Frederic Malle line, on the other hand, started with an artistic reference point from the start as perpetuated by their motto perfumes without compromise: Malle gave the chance to top perfumers to create something they really wanted with the best materials available given no commercial restraints and he, like an editor, would promote it and distribute it for them. Hence the peculiar and sometimes bold nature of such animals as the lush, bombastic baroque Fleur de Cassie by Dominique Ropion or the pungent, bitter minimalism of Bigarade Concentreé by Jean Claude Ellena. In correlating this to the criteria we talked about in the beginning, the Malle line displays no specific homogenous “style” but rather the individual style of his artists who may indeed “abide by their convictions”. However among perfume loving circles I have come across many people who although they like and condone the concept have not found themselves in love with a single one in the line, at least not enough to buy a full bottle of it (what is affectionately termed as being “full bottle worthy” ).

Serge Lutens didn’t begin with such a concept, however there is a definite vision behind his creations with sidekick nose Chris Sheldrake: evoking the rich tradition of the Arabian world, however interpreted in a completely modern way with modern materials and procedures. The results are not erratic as with the Malle line because the collaboration of those two individuals in the line (with the exception of Maurice Roucel on Iris Silver Mist and Pierre Bourdon on Feminité du bois) has ensured coherence of style which however has the disadvantage of not always hitting the right spot. Hence the passionate feelings most Lutens scents arouse in perfume appreciation fans, whether their remarks are mostly positive (Chergui, Fleurs d’oranger) or mostly negative (Miel de bois, Gris Clair). The amount of pleasure one derives is subject to one’s personal associations and memories, as is with the majority of scents, however there is no denying that these are perfumes constructed as an exercise in pleasure recalling an opulence and sultriness of a modern odalisque that is active in an urban territory.

In their elitist mentality though (which in my humble opinion hides a snickering marketing angle too) they go on and produce such shocking segments such as the mentholated top note of Tubereuse Criminelle and the urine-like sweetness of Miel du bois that greet you when you open the vial. That would divert from the pleasure aspect if only there weren’t segments that transport the senses and validate the best wet dreams of an incurable perfumeholic (the creaminess of Un Lys, the deep plush of chocolate-patchouli in Borneo, the sweaty rot of the candied fruits in Arabie).

And then one stumbles on contradictory quotes such as this one:

"We don't care about celebrities at Hermès, it's the artists who drive us,"

Mr Ellena said.

"I do this for me. If it sells, it's a bonus."

The quote comes from TheAustralian.news.com on July 27th from an article about Ellena being in Sydney for the launch of Terre d’Hermès. Which left me wondering the obvious: if perfume is just art and not business, why travel to promote it?

OK, Mr Ellena, I forgive you the lapse this one time.