Jasmine series: part 4 ~mellow jasmine suggestions

The fact that jasmine may take on a more sinister turn accounting for fecal undertones that leave many people with apprehension and dismay does not mean that jasmine fragrances have to espouse that aspect. It is perfectly possible to evoke a balanced approach which could project a soft, mellow and elegant disposition and could be more easily wearable for even the non die-hard jasmine fans. To this end today we are examining some suggestions that might fall into that category of mellow jasmine compositions.
The archetypal example of a smooth, beautiful jasmine that could be worn sufficiently well without evoking particularly dark tendencies is the perennial Joy by Jean Patou. It remains something of an icon in the status of luxe perfumery, partly due to its initial advertising campaign in the economically hard year of 1930, coined by Elsa Maxwell (“the costliest perfume in the world”) and partly due to its unparalleled standards of raw materials. Patou went to great lengths to assure us that 1 ounce of Joy demands 10600 jasmine blooms and 28 dozen roses to be produced. This would be not as impressive hadn’t those flowers been the venerable jasminum grandiflorum of Grasse in the south of France and the two crown glories of Damascene rose from Bulgaria and Rose de Mai (rosa centifolia) again from Grasse. The current nose for Patou since 1997, Jean Michel Duriez, is monitoring the fields and crops to ascertain that the end result rendered out of those two varieties meets the quality control criteria demanded by the house of Patou.

Whether the quality has gone downhill as with most commercial perfumes of today in comparison to the vintage is a matter of dire attention and discussion on several fora.
Some people have expressed a concern that the richness of the floral ingredients has been a tad jeopardized, however for what is worth Luca Turin insists that the quality of the end perfume remains unchanged and his info and sample batch comes staight from Patou headquarters. Since I do not have different batches of Joy to compare and contrast, because my bottles come from the mid-90s, I cannot speak with authority on the matter. The testing I have contacted in stores in different concentrations and places did not leave me with serious doubt as to the up keeping of the formula, however I repeat that I could not possibly ascertain this beyond any doubt since I do not have comparable material at hand from different eras; on top of that ascertaining when a particular bottle was actually produced is so very hard, since perfumers -unlike wine producers- do not label the production year on the bottle (which would make our life so much easier, had it been the case!).

In any case, Joy unfolds majestic proportions of floral grandeur with a nobility and restraint of hand that points to a very skilled perfumer indeed: Henri Alméras. Keeping the noble nature of the two focal points of the suite intact he garlanded them with the merest touch of honeysuckle, ylang ylang and tuberose, anchored by a very light sandalwood base which manages to smell opulent yet beautifully balanced.
It is my impression that there is a difference of emphasis on the two different concentrations of eau de toilette and eau de parfum. The former is characterized by a more pronounced jasmine intonation like a solo aria in the midst of a lively Mozart opera, while the latter is a bit more powdery with accents of rosiness that permeate the whole with a softness that resembles a Schumman lullaby. In fact the Eau de Parfum is repackaged Eau de Joy, which was a different perfume than Joy in parfum, per Luca Turin. Given my proclivities for jasmine and because this is an article devoted to jasmine, I opt for the eau de toilette, however both concentrations are sure to please the lovers of fine perfumes.
The parfum is assuredly more animalic in the civet direction (a wonderful characteristic and thus the one which I always prefer over other concentrations) and stays close to the body with an elegance that speaks highly of its aristocratic pedigree.

Next on the mellow balanced list is First by Van Cleef and Arpels. It has been adequately discussed on Perfume Shrine in Jasmine Series Part 2, so suffice to say that it is a very elegant and classy success. If you haven’t tried it, please do so and preferably in the eau de parfum concentration which highlights its attributes well.

Diptyque’s Jardin Clos is a jasmine buried in the plush of lilacs and the freshness of greenery of a churchyard full of hyacinths. There is an element of bulb wetness as if the grounds have just been rained upon in the early spring morning and some stale stems that go hand in hand with all cathedrals with cobblestone roads leading up to them; a distant whiff of a little spice like cloves on some parishioner’s breath. But oh wait! There I see some tourists coming up the tracks as well. They are dressed in jeans and crisp minimalist shirts, their hair in a modern simple cut, dancing round their faces; they are probably wearing L’eau d’Issey in discernible amounts.
Sadly the oakmoss does not temper the aqueous quality as much as needed.
I appreciate Yves Coueslant and Christiane Gautrot’s vision of naturalistic fragrances that evoke paysages and memories. It’s just that this one is not as distinctive as the rest of them in the niche category. On the other hand, if you want a fragrance that will not raise eyebrows from the non niche lovers in the general public out there I can’t see this one doing that. Unless we’re talking about people who hated L’eau d’Issey the first time around!
The official notes for it:
Watermelon, White Lilac, Mimosa, Hyacinth, Seringa, Hollyhocks,
Wisteria, Mignonette, Wallflowers, Daffodils, Virginia Cedar,
Oakmoss, Tolu Balsam
Official site here.

Ayala Moriel’s Yasmin is completely different: to mellow the animalic character of Yasmin she uses the even more daring cassie/acacia note that is dense and opulent! The combination is successful, paradoxically, because there is a firmly measured amount of it and the base notes of amber and sandalwood are never too loud, allowing the slightly greener ribbons of the opening enfold the little blossoms in a cheerful embrace. Out of all the notes there is the predominance of a realistic gardenia note emerging, which veers the perfume in alleys of nightfall lushness. But the mastery in Yasmin lies in coaxing this into submission so as to be the single blossom corsage on one’s wrist, not a big bright crown of blossoms on one’s hair.
The overall character is sweet and uplifting, bright and romantic like a summer’s sojourn on a Mediterranean cottage overlooking the sea, friendly laughs by noon, erotic strolls by night.
You can see her description and sample on her site here.

Linda Pilkington, the perfumer for Ormonde Jayne’s Sampaquita (based on jasmine sambac) turned her attention to more tropical surrounding. Although the greeting note of bergamot and grass might evoke the Sicilian landscape of comparably familiar Mediterranean memories, it soon mixes lychee fruity tones with an acqueous feel of water lily that manage to mix with other floral notes such as the waxy slightly lemony magnolia petals, the green of lily of the valley, the sharp and pepper of freesia and the softness of rose to become an exotic sweet mélange that is balanced and surprisingly subtle. The jasmine note is not particularly evident, which is a shame for jasmine lovers like me, but could make this an easy choice for those who prefer their jasmine more subdued in a supporting role.
The OJ site says the following:

"National Flower of the Philippines, literally translated as 'I Promise You', Sampaquita flower is a symbol of purity and fragility, coupled with fidelity and resolve. The scent opens with an unmistakable summer bouquet, bursting forth with sun-kissed lychee set on a canvas of bergamot, grass oil and magnolia flowers in full seductive bloom. The marriage of these elements, together with a dusky floral heart of sampaquita absolute, freesia and muguet, combine to form a fusillade of fabulous intensity. An inspired quartet of base notes, musk, vetiver, moss and ambrette seed, unify and harmonise this sensational summer scent".

Official notes:
Top notes: Lychee, grass oil, bergamot and magnolia
Heart notes: Sampaquita absolute, freesia, muguet, rose and water lilies
Base notes: Musk, vetivert, moss and ambrette seed
In fact it reminds me quite a bit of Patricia de Nicolai’s Juste une rêve, which is another tropical floral of the same proclivities or even of Chance by Chanel with the balancing vetiver base under the florals and the fruits over it.

In contrast Ormonde Jayne’s Frangipani Absolute, which is much more assertive and bold, with brighter accents, proclaims its presence for all to see. The start is all lemony and lime rind that is quite loud, while it progresses to buttery warmth like tuberose crossed with a lush juicy fruit and dying hyacinths in a vase; which is also a tad traitorous to the spirit of real jasmine, like previously, but oh well...
However there is no dark animalic tonality, neither is it light nor “fresh”, so it fits in the middle category designated for our mellow jasmine florals. The musky base with cedar accents is balanced and supporting, accounting for a tropical scent that will not induce nausea from too much synthetic sweetness which is a high compliment for this category of scents. If you ever venture in the jungle of a southeastern country, all humid atmosphere and animal noises heard in the background, don’t forget to pack a little bit of this too. I think it fits perfectly.
Official notes:
Top notes: Linden Blossom, Magnolia Flower, Lime Peel
Heart notes: White Frangipani Absolute, Jasmine, Rose absolute, Tuberose absolute,
Water Lily, Plum, Green Orchid oil
Base notes: Camber, Musk, Cedar, French Vanilla absolute
View the Ormonde Jayne fragrances at her official site


Jo Malone in her fragrance combining bag of goods has Honeysuckle & Jasmine. Completely true to spirit and name, this smells like those two summery blossoms combined at different intervals: honeysuckle opening, which is more pronounced, jasmine subtle heart and exit. Light and sweet, like a walk through summer gardens with those two vines climbing up the fence, sitting under the shade sipping freshly squeezed sweet lemonade. There is a woody note in the background too with the merest whiff of clean powdery musk for the finale.
It pairs really well with her Orange Blossom or French Lime Blossom for even more transparency; or if you want to be daring pair with her warm 154 woody scent.

See more details here


Next post in the Jasmine Series will tackle fresh and translucent interpretations of jasmine.

Painting "La Naissance de Venus" by Eugène Emmanuel Amaury-Duval. Poster from the film The Painted Veil courtesy of cineparmenos.gr

Orange blossom week: part 3 - rich nuances

"A disturbing wind blows from the east, saturating the city of Seville with the scent of orange. Juan Antonios dark hair flies off his shoulder and whips against his face. The seductive aroma of the orange blossom surrounds him and the perfumed wind wafts past his ears, whispering secrets only he can hear.

Can you smell the orange blossom? murmurs the wind. I love that scent. Do you remember? The wind blows stronger over the Guadalquivir River, lifting with it the raw reminder of a time when spring smelled sweet.
Juan Antonio looks up sharply and stares out over the river, his hand tensing around the fret board of his flamenco guitar. He feels the wind crawling around his neck, blowing past his face. He brushes a strand of hair from his eyes, but the fragrant wind only blows it back.
I can still feel you, whispers the wind. Smell you . . . taste you. The wind tosses a burst of citrus his way. Your hands smell of horses and leather, your lips of chocolate. I will never forget your delicious scent. But, I fear you have forgotten mine.

An angry cloud of orange swirls over Juan Antonio, threatening to engulf him. He yanks a scrap of cloth from his pocket and ties his hair back with the tattered fabric. Then he shouts to the perfumed wind. Dejame! Leave me alone! Frantically, he clamps the back of his hand against his nose to block out the opressive sweetness, but it is impossible to block the scent that the wind lifts. The seductive aroma of the azahar, the orange blossom, lives inside of him . . . tormenting him . . . robbing him of the peace he longs to find."

The above is an excerpt from the novel in progress Azahar by Susan Nadathur.
It captures well the ambience that a rich orange blossom perfume evokes in me: the south, its passions, its over the top sensualism, bravado, cheesiness even, yet also familiarity, tenderness, childhood memories of car hops across country, blossoms that die slowly in my lap under the heavy sun, cut too soon from the tree.
The intense sweetness of a lush orange blossom that has peaked, in its prime, with honeyied tones and is ready to yield fruit is trully unforgettable.

If we try to deconstruct the etymology and nuanced meanings of the word "richness" we come up against:

1.Possessing great material wealth
2.Having great worth or value: a rich harvest of grain.
3.Magnificent; sumptuous: a rich brocade.
4. a. Having an abundant supply: rich in ideas.
b. Abounding, especially in natural resources: rich land.
5. Meaningful and significant
6. Very productive and therefore financially profitable
7. a. Containing a large amount of choice ingredients, such as butter,sugar, or eggs, and therefore unusually heavy or sweet.
b. Having or exuding a strong or pungent aroma.
8. a. Pleasantly full and mellow.
b. Warm and strong in color.
9. Containing a large proportion of fuel to air: a rich gas mixture.
and 10. Informal, highly amusing.

All this according to The Free Dictonary by Farlex.

I think for our purposes, all of those terms and definitions apply.
A "rich" orange blossom perfume can be wealthy in that it exudes luxury, costly, sumptuous because of its magnificent aroma, mellow and full, strong and abundant, suggesting lushness and opulence, sweet yet also amusing, playful and warm. It can be all these things. And it performs these tasks admirably.
This is why my heart aches a bit whenever I catch a whiff of the abundance of orange blossom in strangers' passing-by-scent. The trail of opulence...

So, to evoke those memories and associations I chose the following perfumes that smell as rich and sweet as orange blossom in Andalucia does in spring:
Zohar by Ayala Moriel, 24 Faubourg by Hermes, Poeme by Lancome and Boucheron Femme by Boucheron.

Ayala's Moriel Zohar uses the hebrew word for enlightment and brilliance to render a very fine, luxurious soliflore that sprakles like a fine jewel under a hot glaring sun. Centered around Orange blossom absolute garlanded with tuberose and jasmine that add to its white floral theme without veering it into the excessive headache producing effect that some other heavy "whities" produce, it is a true gem. The top notes of fresh citrus essences like the japanese fruit yuzu and the divine cleaner neroli note pierce your nostrils playfully giving way to the abundant heart of the nucleus that intermingles warm amber and honey in an arabesque worthy of Alcazar. The slight rubberiness of true, natural tuberose plays hide and seek all along with alluring results, much lighter than that featured in Fleurs d'Oranger by Lutens, like a princess hidden under a veil in one of the corridors of the palace.

You can sample or order clicking here.

24 Faubourg by Hermès , named after the eponymous address of the House, reminds me of a wealthy protagonist in a classic old Hollywood movie: dressed in a light beige belted trenchcoat, impecably coiffed hair under a heavy silk scarf bearing a prestigious signature, wrapped on her precious little head, lipstic in deep coral, complexion of peaches and cream, out in a sports convertible driving on the slopes of Monaco without a care in the world but always in control of herself. The brilliance of the sun and the warmth of late spring in the air, cinemascope colours melting in amber as the afternoon approaches. If ever there was a trace of the essence of wealth and opulence rolled into one this would be it.
Do not opt for the version Eau Délicate though: the above effect can only be achieved by the Eau de parfum or better yet pure parfum/extrait.

Poême by Lancôme was launched with the darling sensitive face of Juilette Binoche and with verse by Baudelaire which would make it endearing despite its smell to my artistic heart. However an overindulegence by women in their 30s all along the 90s along with the bestseller Trésor by the same house left me with apprehension and tentative in ever owning a full bottle. Touted to be centered on datura flower (a flower of the desert) and Tibetan blue poppy (a very rare blossom), it smells of neither particularly; instead it launches on wild, unmistakable orange blossom arpeggios that are supported by potent cassis and amber notes, further sweetened by the -needless in my opinion- addition of vanilla and tonka bean. This is certainly a rich smell; not however in the manner in which Lancôme intended it to be. Too sweet, maybe too strong, Poême appears to be a little heavy handed and suffers as a result from it, despite its lushful heart. Is it any wonder that Juliette Binoche is in reality a Cristalle fan?

Boucheron Femme by the jeweler Boucheron is last but not least on our list of rich orange blossom scents. Althouth this one is much more of a floriental with all that entails, it has such a sublime, sunny and warm presence that it yelled in french (these were no crude yells, tu comprends) to be included in this line up, like the usual suspect of wealth purveyor that it is. Balanced and poised on the beauty of benzoin and olibanum on a powdery base rich in sandalwood it infuses its rich aroma from afar and entices its victims to fall prey to your guiles, tasting apricots and mandarins and lapping their greedy fingers in delicately hushed licks. In a gold bottle topped with a sapphire top like the gems Boucheron is famous for, it evokes luxury the Parisian way: old style, top clarity, lots of carats, but never ostentatious.

Next post will be in yet a different vein.

Pic of Baños de Doña María de Padilla in Alcazar, Seville, Spain courtesy of quovadimus.org.

Years go by and I'm here still waiting, withering where some snowman was

Today is cold and gloomy. And despite all odds, I feel elated, "a little warm in my heart when I think of winter". The meteorologists have predicted the first snow around the area I live in. Although I know I probably won't see any, as I'd have to drive quite a bit to escape the smog that prevents snow to fall, just the thought of the silent, white blanket craddling our hopes and yearnings is enough to make me dream.
Winter has always been a favourite time for me for reasons beyond logic. It's an instinctive preference, formed at a very early age. As my mother, firm in her belief that children should brace the cold so as to become sturdy (and I did), took me for a stroll as a toddler in bitter cold along the pier, seeing the angry stormy petrol-green sea splash furiously, the wind on my flushed little face, steel skies towering over me, my hands in woolen mittens, candied apples consumed, I felt happy and strangely at home. That was who I am. The joy of returning to a warm house augmented the pleasure already experienced, to be greeted by an adoring father.
Although I am not the person who becomes overjoyed in Christmas for reasons already discussed (much more prefer the Orthodox Easter which is a vastly more mystical and sensual -tied to pagan- celebration in my mind) , winter never fails to make me feel like I was when my feet couldn't touch the ground when I sat on the very armchair I am now sitting cuddling with a good book.
And so perfume should follow. Hence a little list of things that bring to my mind all the joys of winter, of love, of "white horses gone ahead".

Quotes and the title come from the lyrics of the trully great, moving song "Winter" by Tori Amos which you can listen to by clicking on the window above (courtesy of Rasberryswirl on Youtube). You can read the lyrics here

Un Bois Vanille by Serge Lutens
Who else but Serge and Shledrake could come up with a vanilla that is comforting, rich, smooth, deeply woody and never tacky? Vanilla is such an ubiquitous smell, really, which makes it hard to do properly. This is grown up, but with a wink to our childish aspirations.

L by Lolita Lempicka
I had bought a bottle in summer and reviewed it , when it first launched here, but didn't open it for months, relying on samples. Now is the proper time to take the plunge and crack my beautiful bottle open. To me, this is the perfect dark vanilla, with the inclusion of immortelle that adds a salty kiss on warmed skin. Created by Maurice Roucel, responsible for Poison, Musc Ravageur, Farenheit, L'instant and Insolence .

Must by Cartier
Best in pure parfum, Must smoulders and entices, unfolding siren notes of civet and amber anchoring narcissus and mandarin. The unexpected green note of the start has a loose-mouthed effect on the rest of the formula. It highlights it, the way the best conversationalists inspire interest by an unwonted beginning.

Fifi by Fifi Chachnil
From a french lingerie company, this is lacy knickers in dusty antique rose to wear between fluffy blankets, your hair in loose curls. Sweet blond tobacco and citrus notes clash and couple adoringly, a little soapy element with a swoosh of powder, much like Boudoir by Vivien Westwood is constructed, with copious references to the milkiness of Luten's Fumerie Turque. It has a complex character, lighter than Anne Pliska, that was surprising to me and it is definitely complimended by cold weather, as it smells nothing like it should in the heat (hence my delayed appreciation for it).
Thankfully that's one perfume that smells actually better in eau de parfum than parfum/extrait. So, it's also economical!

Muschio e Ambra by L'erbolario
This little italian company makes great products of skincare and perfume and has the most nostalgic labels imaginable; they all seem like they have come out of a paintings index. Muschio e ambra tranlsates as musk and amber and has the delightful smell of aged patchouli and slightly bitter fir resin that stays on your skin for hours on end in the eau de parfum.

24 Faubourg by Hermès
Because after all the orientals one associates with winter, one would want a rich floral to lift the spirits and immerse oneself in their delicacy. This is like the queen of elegance and it veers on floriental. Rich orange blossom on a smooth amber base, sweet but not sacharine. Imagine yourself draped in thick silk and powdered to perfection, your lips painted in a becoming auburn shade to compliment the dark colouring of the juice. Another Maurice Roucel creation. This is the very elegant, classy projection of a lady. Go for the eau de parfum in winter.

Gucci EDP I by Gucci
A nostalgia for great perfumes of the past makes for this thyme, cumin, orange blossom and heliotrope-laced composition that is anchored by vanilla and orris. It smells the way grand dames smelled, but has some air of modernity in there as well, making it a very urban offering for a lady with a hidden side. It proved not to be a big seller for the house, which could be good news (you'll be more unique wearing it) or bad (it will at some point get discontinued), depending on your outlook in life; as with everything else.

Schizm by Ayala Moriel Perfumes
You have probably guessed by now that Ayala's natural perfumes have made an impression on me. Besides her very wintery Fκte d'Hiver her more complex, chypré Schizm is exactly what its name alludes to; the duality of woman: it starts peppery and sharp to segue onto floral notes of which the narcottic tuberose prevails, all bedded down in a country road near a forest, leaves trampled underfoot a campfire smelled at the distance. The official notes are: Black pepper, Cedarwood, Mandarin, Tuberose, Orange Blossom, Jasmine, Oakmoss, Musk notes, Incense

Angel by Thierry Mugler
I am talking about the body cream and not the eau de parfum here. Big vats of nasty chemicals are what many people perceive and yes, I can see why. I am doubtful it contains even one natural ingredient in there. And I know, most of you have either a love-it or hate-it relationship with it, because of its mothballs rolled in toxic caspirene-coumarin aroma of choco-caramel and patchouli. Just try a smidgeon of the body cream. It's all one needs...

Douce Amère by Serge Lutens
Bittersweet, more bitter at first, less so after a while, weird like glue, it transports the soul. A mix of cool and warm, it interpolates various moods, that crystallise in one absinthe-liquor prepared the original way, with vanillic sugar on the spoon and everything.
If one is melancholic but not really sad, this compliments the mood admirably in the colder season.

Pink Sugar by Aquolina
What a glorious candy fair smell that reverts us to childhood all over again? The mega-blast of intense tooth cavity giving sweetness is very intense, so what better time to use just a small bit in the dead of winter? Not to be taken seriously. Caress the inner child!

Essence of John Galliano by Diptyque
The complete antithesis of the above mentioned Pink Sugar, for good measure and to prove the schizophrenic tendencies of Perfume Shrine. Not a proper perfume but a room spray that also comes in a candle. Upon spraying the association with tar and birch is overwhelming, so I suggest decanting in a dab bottle to use on one's hands. (it needs a little distance from your face) Dark, deep smokey incense paired with guaiacwood, evoking mustiness and darkness, serenity and centering all in one, rich like Avignon by Comme des Garcons, but with less of a warm feeling, much in the manner of Etro's Messe de Minuit, albeit more wearable.

Painting by Greek painter Nicolaos Gyzis courtesy of eikastikon

Winter is here, let's celebrate!

The official start of winter in the calendar always brings a rush of joy and anxiousness as well in my psyche. The stress of the looming holidays in the end of December is enough to send my heart in palpitations wondering if I will have the time to meet my deadlines, to buy gifts for everyone, to prepare the home for the festivities and everything. In this context I need something soothing and reminiscent of the better aspect of December: nights by a log-fire, walks in the cool air, sipping mulled wine and lighting incense sticks and spice-laced candles. To that effect Fête d'Hiver by Ayala Moriel perfumes comes to the rescue.

As Ayala herself describes this at her site, Fête d'Hiver, which means Winter Festival, "is a heart-warming mélange of incense, amber and resins, along with tropical white flowers, warmed up by spices. The result is as soft as powdery snow and as warm as cuddling by the fire place on a furry rug. Fête d'Hiver is extremely beautiful, sensual and festive yet wonderful to wear year around." Ayala is a natural perfumer who uses only ingredients harvested from nature and not from a lab. This is a new direction in perfumery that is witnessing a rennaissence. Her admirable craft has been tackled before with her creation Film Noir.

On this one the official olfactory pyramid goes something like this:

Top notes: Bitter Orange, Nutmeg, Bois de Rose
Heart notes: Rose, Gardenia, Allspice Berry
Base notes: Incense, Amber, Sandalwood

To me the orientalised spicy scent of Fête d'Hiver begins on the traditional spicy-orangey accord that one is greeted with upon entering any discerning woman's home during the festive season. This kind of smell always brings a smile to my lips and a wink in my eye, as being a die-hard winter person I feel happy smelling what is intextricably tied to wintertime and the traditional aspects of it. Throws in soft chenille, peels of orange burning in the fireplace, crackling sounds of great logs of pine wood, nutmeg laced pies being baked in the oven, family around the hearth.
Some might term this pot-pourri, and I could see the influence, but myself I admit I have always liked spicy pot-pourri and am not ashamed to say so.
The development of the emphatically warm scent is not dramatic, as the spices echo on every nuance of the perfume, with the addition of an ambery and incensy touch at drydown that consolidate my impression that this resinous fragrance for women (and men, why not?) has something very cuddly in its core, but also confident. The incense is particularly evident and it is the warm kind of a church in the south, redolent with the light entering through the luminous panes in byzantine rotondas.
The fact that the perfume comes in a parfum extrait concentration is a guarantee that the lovely ambery resinous spice is staying with you the length of the evening. And when you wake up, may you witness the first snow of the season having fallen in the stillness of the early morning.

Just for this winter Ayala has also brought out Bois d'hiver, which is a limited edition play on the masculine counterpart to Fête d’Hiver. "It is a very similar formula to what is known from previous years as “Fête d’Hiver pour Homme”, only now with the addition of the mouthwatering candied Christmas tree note of Fir Absolute, and fabulous, sparkling Orange Flower Water Absolute to chase away winter gloom and bring joy to your heart!" Sounds delish!

You can get samples and order your perfume at Ayala Moriel perfumes site. Please take a peek at her specials and take advantage of her miniature collections for the holiday season.


Painting is The meal by Nicolaos Gyzis (courtesy of Wikipedia)

Film noir: a perfume to be wary of

What perfume does a film noir heroine wear? More importantly: what perfume does a film noir cinephile wear? If the twists of plot found in a good noir are you cup of tea (or, in this case, coffee), then Film Noir by Ayala Moriel perfumes might be your hot ticket to a ride of pleasure for the evening. And many more evenings to come, if you are lucky and smart. But let's concentrate on your smarts, pal.

Ayala Moriel is dedicated to the art of natural perfumery, a niche that is witnessing a renaissance lately. Perfume Designer Ayala Moriel creates handcrafted perfumes from 100% precious botanical essences. On her site, she describes Film Noir thus:

"This perfume is as dark as a Film Noir plot; as dark as a dim-lit alley in Chinatown and musty as the sewer in The Third Man where the
ambivalent heroes and heroines find their inevitable death, over and over again.
Film Noir is as dark as the soul of the genre's script writers, directors,
actors and viewers. In fact, it is so dark that it includes only the darkest
base notes: cruelly luscious dark cacao absolute, musty-sweet patchouli and the
mysterious bitterness of myrrh. "

Built around the noble essences of dark-roast coffee and the bitterest Valhrona chocolate they combine with patchouli to render a surprising gourmand that catches the darkest images. If you have sampled the wonder that is Serge Luten's Borneo 1834, then you are already familiar with the weird attraction that such scents produce in the limbic system of the person smelling them. Although the depth is somehow bitter and musty, as if glimpsing the jaws of hell, it manages to also recall memories of cosiness and comfort in woolly seperates on a very cold day. Film Noir might have been inspired by such an olfactory memory and created to pay homage to all those inwardly dark heroines (even if they are blondes) that fester the imagination of screenplayers from the dawn of cinema but only culminated in the 40s and early 50s . The breathy voice of Lauren Bacall in "To have and have not" and her gaze as she takes the matches from Bogart. The intricate plot of "The Maltese Flacon" and the wit of "The Third man". And the great "Chinatown", the noir that summarises all the great traits of the classics without copying any of them. And then the recent greats, even if they break some cardinal rules to accomplish it: "LA Confidential" and "Sin City".
Venomous and razor sharp, the heroines emit a female mystique that leaves you shivering from the iciness and hot and bothered by the promise of fiery sex. But you'd have to sleep with a revolver under your pillow, you never know...

The dark ambery liquid reveals its assets early on, as a drop on the skin is more than enough. It then unfolds the notes with the gusto of a cutthroat assasin draped in a killer tweed suit. They did it oh so glamourously back then! Patchouli lingers in the base making it very lasting. The veil of Faye Dunaway is not raised, not will it be raised ever, the dark glasses remain firmly in place, hiding her gaze. Is it happy, is it sad? is she shedding a tear? We will never know. The mysterious aroma will linger in your memory for ever, like the infamous lines in Roman Polanski's film Chinatown when the secret is revealed between heavy slaps: "She's my daughter. She's my sister".Film Noir is our dark sister. And the daughter we should be quite worried to have.

You can read about natural perfumery and her creations and get Film Noir by visiting Ayala Moriel perfumes clicking here

Top pic is from Black Dahlia, the movie based on James Ellroy book. Pic of Faye Dunaway by Helmut Newton courtesy of temple.edu