Season Specific Fragrance Wardrobe & "Rotate Your Scent so You Don't Stop Smelling it": Fiction or Fact?

Surely all of you have heard/read these lines time and again: "You must change your fragrances from season to season to get a better effect". And: "You want to avoid wearing the same fragrance all the time, because after awhile you literally won't be able to smell it - that's just the way the sense of smell works. If you have several fragrances, you can alternate between them and avoid "getting used to" the way they smell. Add fragrances to your collection periodically so you have a nice selection that you can choose from". Great! It's not enough to just find something that suits you; perfume selling stuff, fragrance companies and glossies have persuaded you that it's a most difficult task and you need expert advice ~their advice~ to get the ball rolling. "Feel fresh and relaxed with moisturising body soap and men's perfume",  magazines say."You need to rotate your scents".

Now you need to find several of those, to comply with changes in season, weather conditions, occasions, mood, hormone imbalances and match it to your nail polish shade and your earrings. I'm of course kidding. All this received advice, which has been reiterated for decades to the point we've all believed it, is pure and utter bullshit; a myth, if you will. And I will prove to you why.

The main argument in favour of changing your perfumes from day to day is so your nose doesn't become too accustomed to it and you risk not smelling it on yourself any more". True, it's a scientific proven fact that our nose becomes acclimatised to existing odours after a few minutes so that it's ready to pick up alerting odours. It's the hunter-gatherer's gene: big predator is approaching; that bog is poisoned, better not drink water off it; something is badly burning, could it be the thatched roof on my hut? That said, the artificial corrolation of that fact with perfume use bears little logic. Fragrance wearing is not an opaque layer of odour that stays the same throughout the day, thus inflicting odour perception blockage like it would be if you were sitting in a chemical factory working every day to the same effluvium. Apart from the natural evaporation that would naturally occur, fragrances are constructed in a purposeful way so that different elements come to the fore with warmth, friction or simply rate of evaporation of the molecules in question. Usually we refer to this as the classic "fragrance pyramid" of top notes, middle notes and base notes. Although not all fragrances are built that way (indeed most are not nowadays), there is still a structure even in linear scents that creates a less or more intense scent that you catch whiffs of throughout the day. Think about it: How many times have you surprised yourself by smelling your fragrance amidst a daily chore and thinking "this smells good"? Clearly, your nose blunts a bit after the initial swoosh, intense enough hence the occasional sneeze when first putting it on, but the peaks of scent are there to remind you of its presence: now you catch it, now you don't; but you're not totally oblivious unless you're performing brain surgery, in which case what the hell are you distracting yourself with sensory stimuli for?


I have tried the practice of wearing the same scent for weeks on end myself as an experiment to see whether I would stop smelling it on myself several times (usually involving either Opium, Bandit, or Diorling) and the amount used and enjoyment derived never fluctuated; instead the continuous use allowed me intimate knowledge of the fragrance in question, something which could not be done if I was being fickle continuously. Not all days were the same while going the course, but at the end of each session I was not more oblivious to my scent than when I started. Perhaps getting people to change fragrance all the time avoids exactly this pitfall: they might realise just what utter dreck some of the products on the market are and never return to buy them! But wait, the fragrance industry has cornered that as well: "By the time you get bored with this one, we will have a new collection in the store", a line which makeup sale assistants have been using for ages. It seems like perfumes have become seasonal makeup items as well. Witness the hundreds of flanker fragrances (scents of the same brand coat-tailing on a bestseller's success with minimal change in name and packaging). And the tsunami of fragrance launches in the last 10 years: In the worlds of Oscar Wilde "Fashion is a form of ugliness so intolerable that we have to alter it every six months."

But even if that weren't enough, maketing lore has cleverly played upon our most subconsious fears pertaining to smell. The implied innuendo of "after awhile you literally won't be able to smell it" is "think how horrible that will be on those around you!" Notice how sly they are into leaving it be hinted, without actually blurting it out: Because if you won't be able to smell it, why buy their product again anyway? They could have said, "you're not going to enjoy the scent as much after you put it on day in day out", but they don't, they say "you won't be able to smell it on yourself". Smell, not enjoy. As in "you smell!", aka a negative connotation. Because the perception of our human smell is such an intimate, personal thing, there is the fear that the way we project our homo sapiens projectiles might be repulsive to those around us. It just wouln't be the same with a visual example and they know it. Visual clues are unquestionable unless you're blind: either something is blue or it's not. But what is "good" and what is "bad" in olfactory terms? The confines are broader. And thus the perfume sale is sealed!

One of the easiest ways of cementing the need for a fragrance wardrobe is the concept of "a seasonal fragrance wardrobe". This is mainly because if you notice the bulk of the sales of perfume products happens in the temperate zone and not some sub-Saharan savvanah. The change in seasons in such places is dramatic enough that this seems like it makes sense. And yet we know that sometimes ambers bloom in the summer and florals can be icy and full of luster in the dead of winter. "Heat enhances the perception of fragrance," says Karyn Khoury, senior vice president for fragrance development for Estée Lauder Cos., who wears fragrance every day. "It warms up the skin and intensifies the diffusion of fragrance so you smell it more." (as reported by Beatrice de Gea in The Wall Street Journal) "When spring arrives, women may want to tone down perfumes so they aren't overwhelming. Ms. Khoury often leaves behind the deeper, richer scents of the winter months, such as patchouli and cedar wood, and instead seeks out fragrances with lighter touches—'citrus notes like mandarin, lemon and grapefruit, dewy green notes, things that smell like leaves or fresh-cut grass, lighter tropical florals like gardenia petals' she says." Khoury is responsible for mega sales of fragrance for decades, so she is a decathlon champion talking about running; you know there's a reason.

Historically speaking, the idea of changing your fragrance all the time, the concept of a fragrance wardrobe, didn't appear but very recently, in the middle of the 20th century actually. Perfume lost its prophylactic function in Western society when Pasteur made his discoveries, while it had almost entirely lost its sacred function way before that, so it became a middle-ground between craft, art and product. In Tilar Mazzeo's book The Secret of Chanel No.5, the cultural researcher notes that it was in the 1950s that consumer goods advertising firms started applying the expertise of psychologists, who realised that "any product [...]must appeal to our feelings". The idea that what mattered to consumers were images, especially images of self, was exploited to good effect: Perfume by its very nature explores an idea of self and to instigate that idea into its marketing is genius because it's something that can be used both for the championing of a signature scent ("this is me at its purest form") and for the necessity of a fragrance wardrobe ("these are my different facets, I'm not that simple")! Really brilliant, isn't it? It can also consolidate brand loyalty. Don't believe me or think it's counterintuitive? Just Google Images for "fragrance wardrobe". Oodles of pics of Chanel coffrets with a predetermined selection of mini parfums of their portfolio comes up. Several other houses issue their own "collection" so as to instill a sense of finding the scents you need for different moods and needs within the same brand.

Men who are ~bless their hearts~ such a saner creature in what concerns shopping practices ~apart from cars and electronics of course, but that's another fodder for another day~ consider the concept of having to change your fragrance all the time an exercise in consumerism and a sure indication that women are victims of wallet manipulation. The Western world female of 20-40 years of age is the most ferocious consumer of them all and thus the prime target of advertisers. As displayed on Beaut.ie blog, men just don't "get it". But the women commenting provide all manner of justification! One reason might be that it's so totally fun to play with several fragrances, an epiphany that came to me when I had abandonded my idea that I should only have about twenty full bottles in rotation in case they spoil; why not bring them all out? A signature scent might be a most romantic, evocative idea, but in the end playing with a variety of fragrances allows a certain -otherwise denied- playfulness to surface, a playfulness that is sometimes a springboard of sanity in this tough world we're living in. Other people just have the collector gene in them. I know I'm one. It doesn't matter if it's paper-clips, stationery or perfume bottles of rare compositions, it brings on the completist in you.

But that is one thing and being told that we NEED to do it, otherwise the repurcussions will be unpleasant, are two very different things! I hereby proclaim my right to change my fragrance ~when and how and if I want to~ because it's fun and exciting to me and not because they tell me I have to. What about you?

Related reading on Perfume Shrine: On the flip side of the coin; the indefinable allure of a signature scent

Photo of Faye Dunaway from the set of Bonnie & Clyde. Perfume collection pic via fracasnoir.com. Nude in black & white photo by Willy Ronis.

The Indefinable Allure of a Signature Scent

“One of the most wonderful things for a man is to walk in a room and know that that woman was here because of that lingering smell.” Isn't that a most romantic thought?Who in their right mind wouldn't want to be thus ingrained into the mind of another? Thus, dreamingly, muses designer to the stars Oscar de la Renta. According to him perfume is integral to an overall look and a woman should be known for her signature scent, as he told StyleList apropos his upcoming fragrance launch, a feminine floral-oriental perfume for the "chic and sophisticated women of a new era" inspired by his own daughter Eliza Bolen. [source] .


In the 19th and early 20th century the mission of finding an appropriate signature scent was built into the minds of coquettes and ladies of the house alike, becoming a laborious occupation and a rite of passage. Women chose at an early age among tiny nuances within set parameters. Ladies of virtue went for violets or roses, but done in a variety of styles and with small details differentiating from maker to maker. The promiscuous or demi-mondaines went for jasmine and tuberose in unapologetic mixes, still treated to the slight variation of technique that produced an array of interpretations. But once they chose, they stayed the course, being identified by their choice. Sometimes they were more faithful to their perfumes than their husbands, preferring identification by intellectual and emotional choice than societal mores.

Finding one's signature scent is an all consuming occupation today as well, in those in whom it is an ardent desire and in those in whom the pang of the new or the newly-found drums its drum with the fervor of the newly converted. Lexa Doig, the Canadian actress best known for her role in the Tv series Andromeda, admits she can't curtail temptation when she says "I'm totally on a mission to find my signature scent, but I'm too mercurial". Fashion model and TV-presenter Lisa Snowdon finds the variety hard to resist: "I enjoy popping in to World Duty Free at the airport and trying out perfumes - I can never resist a new scent". So, I bet is the case with most perfume enthusiasts or fragrance writers such as myself. Even if we know our true tastes very well indeed, the lure of missing out on something unanticipated keeps us on our toes. After all the concept of changing fragrances according to mood and fashion trends is a clever device of marketing to get us to consume, otherwise where would the market be? On the antithetical pole, we have Oscar de la Renta's thoughts (who perhaps ironically enough has his own share of eponymous scents beneath his belt): “I say a fragrance should become part of your identity. [...] When I want to smell that fragrance, I want to recognise you by it”. He's not alone.

Perfume writer Susan Irvine, who tests fragrances for a living, recounted a story in which a young mother was telling her how a particular fragrance was encapsulating a particularly happy era in her life, getting her first job in New York City in her early 20s; but also how she purposefully extended its aura into how she wanted the rest of her life and her personality to project: crisp, energetic, with the dynamism of a young woman who is gripping metropolis by the horns and makes things go her own way. The definition of a signature scent, this magical amulet never missed to put a spring into her step. But it also stood for something more: "I like to think that when I die, this is what my children will remember me by" she finished. The fragrance of pure rapture and dedicated passion in question? It was none other than Aromatics Elixir, the Clinique classic which still goes strong since its introduction in the early 1970s. Irvine was inwardly ~and outwardly too, come to think of it, since she divulged the story, didn't she?~ questioning her own choices, her fickleness and pondering on the existence or not of children as historians of the scent trail that is left lingering in ether and memory long after someone passes. The fragrances we choose become our own memorable chronology, marking important events: our first job, a fling that slowly becomes something serious, the birth of children, a promotion, the passing of someone we cherish.

Signature scents can become our own geography as well; precious places that come back, without beckoning, upon uncorking a rich bouquet of complicated molecules. In the words of Diane Ackerman: "Nothing is more memorable than a smell. One scent can be unexpected, momentary and fleeting, yet conjure up a childhood summer beside a lake in the mountains". How many among us think lovingly of holidays spent on some beloved locale, peppered with precious memories and beauty that sustaining us in the months of daily commute?



But more deeply than either personal history or individual geography, signature scents can be signposts of the self: I remember my own mother, her bosom and her endless scarves aromatized by the mysterious vapors of her beloved fragrance, rising as if from within her very self: Was Cabochard by Madame Grès such a womanly mantle in its vintage form or was my association of it with her that tinged it with the exasperation of an unfulfilled longing? The thing which made it so magical in my heart? Continuous wear seemed to have effectuated not only a change of the person thanks to the perfume, but, mysteriously enough, a change of the perfume thanks to the person, even in its bottled form! Cabochard thus lost some of its aloofness, gaining instead a sui generis enigma that was beyond anything else a daydream; like she was.
She didn't always wear Cabochard, having the occasional fling with other fragrances that tickled her fancy, like women who are faithful in other ways, and she seemed to instinctually instill some of her primary goodness, her unbridled kindness and openness to the world in each and every one of them. I smell those fragrances now on my own skin and I find them lacking compared to how she manipulated them into something ghostly that evoked no other but her.

That signature scent remains poised on a scarf locked in a drawer. Whenever the mood strikes me, I gingerly open a tiny crack when nobody watches and, scared I'm letting out a little bit of a finite amount of an eidolon each time, I'm inhaling a miniscule whiff while my eyes get misty.

And you? Do you embrace the idea of a signature scent or not? And why?


pics via pinterest.com and sparkles & crumbs

How Far Can One's Allegiance to a Brand Go? (vis a vis the Galliano Incident)

Last week's fashion news involved drunken stupor, brawl fights and a surprising revival of what we had deemed long forgotten past in the form of a "I Love Hitler" video captured on cell phone. The protagonist of all was fashion designer and formerly head designer for Dior, John Galliano who hurled anti-Semitic slurs on a Parisian outing, obviously under the influence of heavy liquor. The news traveled with the speed of lightning, Dior (LVMH actually) fired him and Galliano issued a non-apology apology.


Like reported on RealBeauty.com "Newsworthy events like these can, for better or worse, impact the way people view brands and celebrities. Many were impressed with the haste with which these songbirds and Galliano’s business partners distanced themselves from their entangled alliances". (Interesting correlation made, go read it)

Sidney Toledano, himself Jewish, opened the anticipated Dior Fall 2011 show with the following statement:

“Since its founding by Monsieur Dior, the House of Christian Dior has lived an extraordinary and wonderful story and has had the honor of embodying France’s image, and its values, all around the world. What has happened over the last week has been a terrible and wrenching ordeal to us all. It has been deeply painful to see the Dior name associated with the disgraceful statements attributed to its designer, however brilliant he may be. Such statements are intolerable because of our collective duty to never forget the Holocaust and its victims, and because of the respect for human dignity that is owed to each person and to all peoples. These statements have deeply shocked and saddened all at Dior who give body and soul to their work, and it is particularly painful that they came from someone so admired for his remarkable creative talent.”

I hate to break this to them, but there is some sketchy past in the house of Dior...

The crux of the matter remains: Where does that thin line between artist and public figure begin and end? When Woody Allen rocked the celebrity circuit and raised outcry with his admitting of being in love with Soon Yi Previn, things were different: Not only was Soon Yi not his adopted daughter (the adoption papers were in Mia Farrow's name), what most people missed was the fact that the two didn't even live in the same house! Woody and Mia never really shared apartments, instead choosing to each having their own. Plus the motive was love.
Art redeems, or rather, the artist can be brilliant in his art, although flawed in his human being comportment: When homosexuality was considered a "flaw" how many nowadays revered artists (from the Great Masters of painting down to classical music) would be outcasts in their societies?
Racial slur and hate however is something completely different. Different because it perpetuates that which art is supposed to suppress and man-handle: the beast in us.

Even Jean Paul Guerlain, an old guard veteran, rocked waters a little while ago, when his quote on working on the Guerlain classic Samsara, apparently hinted at his not believing in blacks slavery being that harsh. (catch that discussion on this link). His quote was qualitatively different because the offensive part in the press relied on a fundamental mistranslation: the N word was never actually uttered. LVMH summarily severed all ties from Jean Paul (we're not supposed to ever hear again his name in mystical relation to the creation of another new Guerlain launch...) and he publicly apologized. The incident was considered comparatively mild and put behind for digestion.

With Galliano, things are on a distinctly different path. Not only is he much younger than grandpa Jean Paul Guerlain, thus not able to claim age-related haziness, he's also in the midst of the cultural milieu that involves all races and religions of the world, all erotic persuasions and all possible human variables: fashion! If Jean Paul Gaultier, an equally formidable designer in his own right, says that Galliano's work never exhibited racism, then why is Galliano showing such an attitude in his words? And where do words end and opus begins? Where does the "do I as I say and not as I do" get in the way and mix up things? How can anyone endorse his fashions or eponymous beauty products and fragrances now without a twitch of guilt and self-loathing?
What is especially vexing is that Galliano used those epithets alongside a tirade against "ugliness" and (allegedly) bad taste in a manner that shows that the worst enemy of equality and dignity is one who has been raised on the wrong side of opportunity and who got a break thanks to his many talents. A serious pity...

What's your take?

The Politics of Perfumery: Jean Paul Guerlain Makes a Faux-Pas?

Perfumery is a minefield. It's not only perilous to make an olfactory mistake and distance your core audience, a communication faux pas might even trigger a campaign of boycotting your product. That faux pas can take many guises, but none is more "sensitive" than a random comment which can hint of racism. Jean Paul Guerlain, apparently unintentionally, just committed just that cardinal sin.
The whole incident took place in an interview to Elise Lucet concerning his work at maison Guerlain, where he created many masterpieces, Samsara among them. Concerning the latter, Jean Paul commented: "For once, I worked like a negro. I don't know if negroes have worked that much, but anyway..."

The word used in French was negro, but the translation is edgily close to the subversive nigger word (of which there is no French comparable).

The quote also inelegantly suggests that there might be laziness involved too. SOS Racisme and Cran have complained about this statement on France 2 this past Friday 15th October. (You can read the news and the original quote on this link) The reasons given for the outcry are mostly pedagogical, as they renounce the colonial cliches which are thus being perpetuated through such statements. Of course it's argued that these statements go against the values of LVMH and Guerlain in general, and action of distancing was demanded from LVMH, to which the behemoth company replied with a direct apology by Jean Paul himself on AFP via mail. In it Jean Paul Guerlain clarified that he is sorry for the statement and that it does not reflect his deeper thoughts. He also mentioned that he is not a representative of the company since 1996 and is not salaried since 2002, "taking full responsibility [for the faux pas], not wanting to hurt the company and its employees". His current position is of advisory to the head perfumer Thierry Wasser.

That was of course in response to the wildfire criticism which erupted on Twitter and blogs as well as perfume community fora (such as this one or that one) with proposals of boycotting the brand. It even reached CNN!.

As usual on Perfume Shrine, we dissect things to get to the bottom of it.

First of all, the first part of Jean Paul's statement is simple enough: "Work like a negro" is -unfortunately, but there you have it- a common idiom in many European languages (French being one of them, Greek also among them) in which it simply means "work very, very hard". Undoubtedly the French have it one better than us, having intimate knowledge of just how hard negroes might have worked because they have been colonialists for centuries, but I digress. The thing is very often the phrase springs up with no intent of offense; it's just an ingrained "memory" or "hearsay" (for those of us who never had any blacks in a colonial past working for our wealth). And anything can be interpreted the way one wants it to. The Holy Bible is filled with racism if you're willing to seek it from an objective point of view.

Blacks/Negroes have worked in plantations for many years as slaves, as recently as the previous century. This is deeply shameful, there is no other way around it. But certainly not to black people! Rather the ones who owned them and perpetuated this practice at a time in history when such a practice was not necessitated by ANY means (It's an agreed fact that slavery in antiquity falls under completely different parameters and not within our scope here). There even exist wonderful French patisserie creations that reference negroes, certainly through no desire to offend them.

The unfortunate correlation is that the word negro can be twisted into translation into the offending "nigger" word, which is undoubtedly derogatory. Which is exactly what happened on American media. This reminds me of the instance when Gérard Depardieu was a nominee for an Academy Award for Cyrano in 1990 which he eventually lost through a mass campaign smearing his name as "juvenille rapist". What had happened? He was giving an interview in French, recounting his troubled formative years in which he was seeing things on the streets. He mentioned, in way of example, witnessing a rape. His misfortune was the French verb "assister" which he had used was mistranslated out of context as "assisted" in the US press. From witness, he became accessory to the crime! Outcry ensued and Academy Award voters took the matter to heart...and decided to give a pedagogical lesson by denying him the votes. The trajectory followed was down-spiral...and the award went to Jeremy Irons for Reversal of Fortune (In no way am I intending to diminish his exceptional performance which I love myself). Thankfully Depardieu has remained unscathed since and the gossiping tongues claim the campaign was not so innocent to begin with, aiming to deny a non-English speaker an Academy Award for Leading role in a non-English speaking film. This is of course merely conjecture.

So far so good and this should be a lesson to us all on how to pick our words in a multi-cultural society such as the global one we're living in. And I wouldn't be giving any extended commentary, should the second part of the Jean Paul Guerlain quote not exist.

But the second part does exist, alas. Weirdly too, because Jean Paul is well-known for his good rapport and friendship with the inhabitants of the island of Mayotte, where Guerlain keeps ylang ylang plantations. Maybe his progressing age doesn't help too much in general?

That second part of the quote inelegantly attaches the stigma of laziness where none exists (and by association the "plight" some of the countries inhabited mainly by negroes is attributed to a fault of their own). Speaking with personal national experience, where critical geopolitical and precarious financial games are played on our backs by the superpowers, I can assure M.Guerlain (and everyone) that very seldom in politics anything is "through one's own fault". It's not school exams, you know. There's got to be someone assisting someone else's plight; someone else who is actually gaining something out of it. In this instance, it is colonialism and the wealth it accumulated for colonials. Too bad that France is still struggling to come to terms with accepting that heritage. Whatever... nevertheless a little more compassion to people who are not wholly responsible for what happened to them goes a long way.

And, before I forget, oh, I wish I could have forgotten about another unfortunate quote concerning other less privileged groups which I had critiqued on these pages back in 2008.

Because, come to think of it, what purpose is perfume accomplishing -refining us, giving us a veneer of sophistication and allure- if we forget to show basic human understanding for the misfortune of others? Let's refresh our Aimé Césaire readings.

For purposes of injecting a semi-relevant & controversial viewpoint on racial matters, France and the US, please read this blog post. Food for thought, and why not, comment!

NB: The pics are (clearly I hope?) ironic. The hypocrisy of white colonialism at its very highest.

Why French (and European) people grow up to love scents while Americans don't

One of the most frequent and controversial divides among Europeans and Americans has to do with the scope of this venue: smell! The things we like to smell, the way we smell, the cultural milieu in which this function happens, our perception on it and the reaction to the olfactory environment. Why are the French (and most Europeans grosso modo) so much more attuned to smells and more receptive of them, even when they tether on the edge of the unpleasant, than North Americans? Before anyone says that this is not true, let me state: There are of course exceptions, on both sides. And I bet our American readers are here exactly because they belong to that percentage of exception; even though they are numerous, let's admit it, on the grander scale of things, perfume is only a small niche. But incidents like trying to ban scented products from public spaces in a whole city or refusing to carry a passenger in public transport in Calgary, Canada, because her perfume is disagreeable, not to mention the augmenting complaints of real and imaginary "allergies" to perfume which we discussed recently, tend to happen across the pond mostly. Why is that?

Certainly one cannot in any sanity of mind even entertain the thought that there is some inherent, chromosome-induced difference in olfactory perception or reception, because a)that would sound completely Nazi-like and b)both North America and Europe consist of largely mixed populations which have effaced lots of their indigenous DNA makeup through centuries of intermingling. We all, more or less, start from the same standpoint, but we tend to diverge early on. So, if it's not nature, it's got to be nurture. Education, to be exact. It's not just a 9-letter word, you know.

This train of thought lagging at the back of my brain was sent to the forefront again when I came across a post on Sylvaine Delacourte's blog, the artistic directress of parfums Guerlain, who elaborated on how they actually organise special "workshops" led by Marie Birin (in two levels, mind you!) for children starting from the age of seven (!) so they can learn how to organise smells in their mind, see the perfume creation logic at work and therefore appreciate scents better. One might cynically exclaim that this is a tool to convert children into little consumers. And in some part it does create an affinity for the brand, I suppose, when they grow up. Wouldn't you have fond memories of a brand who allowed you to get your hands dirty with all kinds of smell stuff and got you out in the garden to sniff flowers and wet earth? Yet I wouldn't wager this is intended with that objective to begin with (they also host workshops for adults anyway). No other society on the entire planet is more consumer-and-business driven than the American one and I have yet to hear of children's perfume appreciation workshops there. The powers that by do try to make them little consumers, all right, what with the Disney cartoon characters embossed on innocuous "waters" for playing dress up and what not, but is this really on a par with sitting down and educating them about smells and raw materials? I don't think so.

Ask what perfume signifies across different cultures and you will hear interesting differences of perception, converging on its overall goodness: To some it's a pick-me-up, a moment of freshness and joyful, frank pleasure, a smile at both yourself and the world, if you will. Think of the Spanish, the Greeks and the Italians who use literally liters of eaux fraiches and Eaux de Cologne throughout hot summers both on themselves and on children. To others, it's part of a glamorous living in which they can indulge into after decades of being deprived of these luxuries. Think of the Russians and the formely communist Eastern Europeans who had no varied access to perfume for decades, because it was seen as a decadent representation of capitalism. To others, still, it's a nostalgic representation of nature scenes for when the sky is all gloomy and overcast making them dream (think of the Victoriana English perfume scene before the advent of niche in the last decade) or an accessory which is providing a tie with both long tradition and latest fashion (think of the numerous German and Dutch apothecaries, or the au courant designers' scene hailing from North Italy, Austria or the Netherlands). And of course there is that special intimate rapport between a person and their chosen perfume; the latter standing as an extendable, inviting aura for the revelation of the former, which is so well met au valeur (put to its besty advantage) in France...

These are so much ingrained to children from an early age that they grow up to view them as perfectly natural, expected, par for the course: An experienced pedagogist was telling me the other day regarding potty training that she recommends when a toddler is successful to congratulate them with "well done" and a drop of their parent's cologne or perfume on their hands. An Austrian acquintance of elementary school age came back from a trip grabbing not only chocolates, but also minis of 4711 Eau de Cologne. For herself and for her friends I might add. Relatives give small sips of red wine to their little kids so they develop the palate to appreciate them at a later age. French friends routinely give camembert (a non pasteurised cheese) to their small children without as much as raising an eyebrow as to any microbe scare. Heidi, in the famous Yohana Spiri novel, a Swiss child, was accustomed to drink goat's milk (a quite smelly kind of milk in its raw form) straight after the milking off the animal. The antithesis in the form of revolted apostasis to that was Miss Rottenmeier, the austere, dried-up sprinster who was responsible for the kids at her German friend's home in Frankfurt. European children in short are taught from the craddle onwards that smells are not a bad thing on the whole. Sure, some are more likeable than others and everyone has personal preferences, but they form part of the sensual world. And the sensual world is something to embrace and indulge in, rather than reject and demonise.

Contrast with the American reality and lore, where smelly stuff is (seemingly inherently) bad and many things having to do with the body are demonized by the status quo. Even the phrase "it smells" usually has a negative connotation: Putting perfume on small children is generally seen as sexualising the child, even by people who themselves are responsive to perfumes. The value of keeping childhood innocence for as long as possible in nowhere more pronounced than in American culture, as attested by children's fairy tales of local origin, films and prototypes which, enthused as they are into passing the best possibly intented pedagogical messages, sometimes tend to overexaggerate in their zest. If Snow White was an American tale, she would never have eaten the poisoned apple but instead would have responded to the wiles of the evil stepmother with a "This isn't washed nor peeled, talk to the hand!".
Flowers are increasingly grown devoid of any particular smell, as if they are meant to look nice and just play the virgin. Come to think of it: Why was it such a big deal that Brooke Shields and Britney Spears were presented as virgins at the time of their prime? I have never heard such claims by any aspiring or established star in Europe (and if they did dare bring this up, it would be confusing and ridiculed, like "what the hell does this has to do with what your job is"?)
Urban kids eat chicken drumsticks coming out of a pack of 6, almost never having the experience of seeing someone defeather a real chicken (never mind a rooster) and seeing the guts discarded in a plate, unless they live on a farm of course. If you showed them or if you mention that process in a classroom full of kids, they would sooner respond "eww, don't gross us out" than make appreciative noises at the inherent violence (yes, children do embrace violence in healthy, necessary ways too) and curiously "dirty" satisfaction that such an act produces (Have you ever cooked a mean coq au vin having just received a rooster from a small supplier at the village? Do try it and then tell me!).

Therefore, if this talk among perfume enthusiasts about "stopping the madness of banning perfume and scented products" is to be taken seriously, then people, please try starting at the source: at the hand that rocks the craddle. It is the hand that rules the world. In the foreseeable future, at the very least.

Photo Erich Comeriner Petit Mannequin, Anonymous Weight Problems.

The Givaudan iPerfumer Application: Cutting-Edge or Demystifying?

Technology would get to perfume; it was only a matter of time! Studies had suggested that "particularly among young people, there is no propensity to buy perfume, but on the contrary, they are enthusiastic about technology" (according to Maurizio Volpi). So in order to boost perfume sales, what better than to engage them through technology? This after all is the method employed by several companies of other products as well: entice with something irrelevant so as to stir into the wanted direction. We "consume" loads of digital media every day (blogging, Facebook, LinkedIn, Twitter, etc.) so is this the new direction, especially for luxury brands to communicate their message? And is this message a frank one? Vivien Westwood had said during a speech at Unesco: "We can lie to one person once, two persons twice.... but never to everyone everytime".

According to the press release by Givaudan who introduced the iPerfumer application (for iPhone) in mid-June, shortly after beauty giant Estée Lauder announced its Ascent iPhone application to facilitate in-store perfume shopping: "Givaudan, the industry-leading perfumery house has created a unique tool to help individuals select their perfect fragrance. Now available for free download from the Apple App Store, iPerfumer offers individuals tailored advice on which perfumes to try, removing the confusion that often surrounds choosing perfume. Revolutionary in its approach, iPerfumer is a personal fragrance consultant in your pocket. It provides fragrance recommendations to help make informed choices, either for yourself, or when buying gifts for others". The technique is a rather standard one, pioneered by Michael Edwards who also has his own "recommendations" method on his Fragrances of the World site and has Sephora utilize his system (by fragrance sub-families and common notes).
On iPerfumer, after identifying yourself by sex, age and country, you're asked to take note of the six olfactory families proposed (Citrus / Chypre / Floral / Fougere / Oriental / Woody) ~famous examples for each provided to make it easy for novices. Then you can enter some of the perfumes which you like. And after processing those results, the application recommends several fragrances for you personally.
But is the new iPerfumer application as plain sailing as all that? We decided to investigate.


Michel Gutsatz, a brand strategy expert at The Scriptorium Company and the head of Le Jardin Retrouve, takes a critical look at the iPerfumer application by Givaudan at LuxurySociety.com. His doubts corner three drawbacks which also seem crucial to me: no motivation to try out the recommended fragrances (no info, no story, nothing), lack of ergonomy in acessing previous part of the profile created, "sterile" treatment of perfumery (the application doesn't create any of the inherent magic of perfume).
The matter of Augmented Reality (a hot topic that garnered a lot of momentum after the success of James Cameron's Avatar) surfaces when talking about how the iPhone rates compared to other methods. iPhone applications are entertaining, but the technology within the iPhone (and soon the iPad) is not yet able to unlock the true potential of Augmented Reality to the same extent that different media (a web-cam enabled shop display, a home computer or laptop) can. In the luxury industry (and perfumes do belong there for better or worse) where gimmicks are usually not taken very seriously will the iPhone and its applications find the fertile ground they need to catch the eye of the consumer and would they need to make the leap from "techie geek" to "lifestyle" to do so?

My additional qualm is that the results garnered on the iPerfumer often bear little relation to what a seasoned perfume enthusiast would expect out of the submitted information to begin with. But bearing in mind how in order to get recommendations in the first place, you're asked to "rate" (enough) fragrances according to preference, I would think that the ulterior purpose of the application is to provide Givaudan with an extraordinary cheap market research tool via which to monitor the scented tastes of iPhone users worldwide! And it does look like it's going to be updated at intervals, with a version 2.0 to roll around when there is need for yet more monitoring and see how tastes have evolved.

What do you think?

"Your perfume is giving me the hives/ a headache/ asthma!"

How many times have you heard that line in one variation or another? Or are you one of the sufferers who feels like you're going to erupt any minute now from the fumes that are coming your way from down the hall? There are two sides to every argument and the modern (mostly Americanised) phenomenon of complaining about perfume-wearing in the workplace and public spaces is interesting to dissect, if hysterically overacted in some cases. Like the one involving Susan McBride, a Detroit city employee who claimed a co-worker’s perfume and room deodorizer caused her to suffer from migraines and nausea and in turn sued the city, claiming the scented workplace hindered her from working properly.

Most impressively, nevertheless, McBride actually won a $100,000 settlement and Detroit city employees in the three buildings where McBride works are now being warned not to wear scented products, including colognes, aftershave, perfumes and deodorants, or even use candles and air fresheners! Incidents like this and reportage from common folks who comment on MSN articles citing the incident as an example of a greater issue make me think. And the majority of interesting questions in this world begin with one simple word: "why". WHY has scent been given so much importance in today's society? Why is this annoyance greater now rather than decades before? And why is perfume and scented goods demonized in such a way? Is perfume wearing the new taboo? Or the new smoking?

Let's start by a typical example, taken from actual comments by readers. One woman complains about her co-worker constantly brewing fresh chai tea five times a day on her desk (Talk about a lot of constipation, but let's not tackle this right now). The smell of tea being brewed bothers her. She complains she's getting a headache. The other woman quips by saying she got a headache by the smell of the noodles that the other woman brought at the office the other day! The situation escalates to the point that the incident is reported to Human Resources and the floor manager. Chair brewing is brought to a halt. You see...nothing is as uncomplicated as a simple repulsion to the smell of something. Imagine how this can take on other shades of meaning when the offending item in question is a scented gift from a beloved one or even if it takes on the "enlightened" appeal of aromatherapeutic products. Or...the horrors, a humble deodorant (banning it risking a major case of the BOs) or the cleaning fluid for the floors!

Allergies and headaches triggered by scented products are a serious issue. I don't deny that for a minute! Let me repeat: I don't deny it. People battle with symptoms that can be debilitating. Some are even seizure-like, recalling epilepsy ("sensitivity to strong smells, flashing lights and certain noises"). For all that there is proper medical care, while common sense dictates to respect people and tone down whatever is making them ill, assuming the pinpointing has been successful. But how much of that is real and how much is simulated for various reasons? Even scientists are sometimes baffled. Where does one draw the line between having something hurt them ("I'm getting nauseated") and having something just annoy their aesthetic principles ("I hate that scent")? Reportedly the percentage of genuine medical conditions is very low. "Hey man, you stink!" is politically incorrect, whether the stink comes from body odour or perfume or smoke...Has this political correctness which has pervaded the American society prevented men and women from giving voice to what displeases them in a rational and level-mannered way, thus provoking secondary reflexes that lead to overacting and passive aggressiveness? I think it has.

Scent mapping is starting to become the equivalent of turf wars and a victim attitude that would "pay" for other things, some of which are tangible in the form of monetary recompensation. People have got ideas, after that $100,000 settlement. But it is the power trip which gives the thrill. Scent has always biologically been a way to mark one's territory and man (and woman), a grown-up animal out of the jungle, is refining the process by donning olfactory shoulder pads, marking one's personal space. Refuting someone's right to gnaw on your own personal space -within the public one- seems like resistance to usurped authority, claiming part of the common territory back, setting the line on someone's power. Doubly so, as perfume choice and individual odour is such an intimate, personal matter. It reads as rejection of someone on a deep, core level. How many times have you rejected a potential lover because you didn't like the way they smelled? And how many times have you felt flattered because someone praised your scent?

"A person doesn't necessarily have a right to wear perfume, but the person does have a right to be able to breathe in the workplace" is cited as reason for the indignation. Clearly perfume wearing is considered frivolous. The floodgates on entitlement to rights and the cult of "me" opened up at some point during the last 20 years, after which a major step back in basic manners and common sense ensued. Which brings me to another point: It's noted that the majority of complaints and the escalation of such cases is witnessed in the US (and to a lesser degree Canada). Other countries do not have such a problem (yet, at least). Why is that? I believe it has to do with a couple of reasons.

First of all, the frivolity of perfume seems ingrained in a WASP mentality, the glorification of soap and water of almost religious significance. "Cleanliness is next to godliness", right? Interestingly, the aphorism is similarly coined in other languages to extol the value of cleaning up; but the connection is not made to the divine, but rather with other values, such as social status. To further this syllogism, one might argue that by eschewing the god-prefered clean smell of soap and water, covering it up with perfume is "reeking" of suspicious motives. What are you trying to cover up, dude? Perfume wearing has for long being tied to members of the fair sex of low reputation in particular (parfum de puta), trying to cover up the smell of other men on them, or a witch-hunt mentality in which scent was used to ensnare men and control them through the subliminal medium of olfaction.

Another reason might be that the cubicle farm culture is most prevalent in the US rather than other countries. The tight-knit space does induce discomfort, conflict and ennui! Someone has to be blamed and perfume is so easy to target. Especially so since smells invade our space and trigger emotional responses. Which makes me further the thought: Has no one considered Sick Building Syndrome? Several of the symptoms described for perfume intolerance happen to be identical with those for the above condition.

What is perhaps even more intriguing is that I distinctly recall a perfumer saying that American perfumes are made with a higher concentration within the established Eau de Toilette and Eau de Parfum concentrations so as to satisfy the taste to have your perfume announcing you, a form of "olfactory shoulder pads" which used to be very demanded by the market focus groups on US soil. Historical fact confirms that some of the most potent, powerful fragrances first met with success in the US, such as Narcisse Noir by Caron, due to this preference. In a globalised market perhaps this isn't always the case, although several popular fragrances do get produced at different factories for different countries ("made in US" vs "made in France" etc., plus the difference in the alcohol used as a carrier vehicle for the essences) Several of the modern "clean" scents bearing American brand names (the Clean brand for instance) are so harsh and synthetic that they do pierce sinuses. In view of the above is it any wonder that lots of Americans are complaining? I don't think it's entirely their fault! But it does make for a new arena for the claim of personal space in an increasingly tight, overpopulated world.

On to you: Is perfume the latest taboo? Is it the new weapon to battle one's battles in the workplace? Do you have any problems from someone else's scent?

pics via legalblogwatch.typepad.com and dentalcollectibles.com

The Power of "Noir" in Perfumes

Nowhere is the power of "noir" (aka black) more intense than in the sublime and surreal cosmos of perfumes: From modern creations such as Bulgari's Jasmin Noir and Black or Tom Ford's Black Orchid and even Black Violet to Ormonde Jayne's Orris Noir and Yves Rocher's Iris Noir, all the way through to vintage gems such as the murky Narcisse Noir by Caron, or the kaleidoscopic Or Noir by Pascal Morabito, with a detour at niche "founder" Serge Lutens via his Datura Noir, everything is painted in black a la Rolling Stones. And who can forget the enigmatically legendary Nombre Noir by Shiseido and its white heat?

Even more vague and promising in intonation than the above (which mostly recall shady, unusual hybrids of flowers with few exceptions) are those which are sartorially-inspired (Lutens has Fourreau Noir but also Serge Noire, both evoking fabrics and items of clothing; Guerlain La Petite Robe Noire, while Avon has Little Black Dress, where black is synonymous to pared elegance regardless of the discombobulating scent: the mere mention of the name promises Hepburn-like pizazz!). The darkening of ingredients is also popular: The slightly scorched effect of Noir Epices by Michel Rounditska for the F.Malle line, the indie Ambre Noir by Sonoma Scent Studio... Black Sun by Salvador Dali sounds even more surreal than intended, the world of alchemy eclipsed into Schwarze Sonne/Sonnenrad neopaganism purpoting radical change: apparently not so, in perfume terms! Crystal Noir by Versace is reminiscent of jet-bead jewellery, the par excellence mourning jewellery in the Victorian Era, a direction that the designer house considers too far back to be referenced by the youthful audience to which they aspire. Sometimes "noir" can even stand alone, stolid, full of fortitude and mystery, like a promised (but rarely delivered) olfactory Healthcliff: Lacroix Noir for men, Avon's Noir for men...Othertimes, it paints a heroic symbol with the wide brush of machismo: Drakkar Noir, how can we forget you? Perhaps the more literal interpretation of Lalique's Encre Noire (black ink) is more elegant onomastically. And the trend gets carried in excess as in ~fittingly named~ Black XS by Paco Rabanne, The Wrong Man obviously for dark regressions out of the past.

The recent trend of naming perfumes "Black this" and "Noir that" (or as Tania Sanchez wittingly calls Black Thingamajig) has really gained momentum with hundreds of fragrances containing one or the other denominator in their very name. After testing the majority of them with apprehension as to their perceived fangliness, I have come to believe it's pure marketese to denote something that is the antithesis of "fresh", "light", "inoffensive", "cookie-cutter". Admittedly, people have always wanted to be the opposite of the last two adjectives, even if they don't have one iota of dangerousness, sensuousness or mystery in their bones. Call it the call of the wild, the desire to be what they cannot be in their ordinary lives, call it escapism: Which I realise all perfume really boils down to! It's simply irresistible, it's like watching an old film-noir and fantasizing about being the wicked femme fatale (Who is usually coincidentally dressed in black, have you seen any in pink polkadots and yellow ribbons in her hair?). "The femme fatale provokes a kind of temporary insanity in the protagonist, which partially absolves him from responsibility for his actions. It is as though she happens to him, like a natural force". [quote]
Ayala Moriel, an indie perfumer from Canada, has created a glorious (and mysterious-smelling) patchouli confection in her suitably named Film Noir. The crossfire of "good girl vs. bad girl" is a dichotomy prevalent in many cultures, none more pointedly so than the American one, with a plethora of "rules" to adhere to in order to belong to one and not the other, personal fragrance being the outward manifestation of an inward inclination. Nuit Noire by Mona di Orio assumes a very intimate aura (of yes, rather forbidden bodily zones) to talk about the dangers of a black night ~what its name means~ when you'd be more simpatico to some experimenting in Bitter Moon/Lunes de Fiel , Pascal-Bruckner-style. The decade of "clean" (the 90s) with its AIDS hysteria ~when perfumes seemed to serve as a virtual chastity-belt~ is over and thankfully most of the ozonics and aqueous scents are left in a lonely place.

Somehow I think the reference was cinematic to begin with, including the very first scents onomatized with this dark epithet. Marcel L'Herbier's Le Parfum de la Dame en Noir from 1931 based on Gaston Leroux's older novel of the same name conveniently tied the two in an inextricable knot. Narcisse Noir by Caron, apart from Sunset Boulevard and its dramatic sensuality, makes me think of vampy Theda Bara, arguably not the person you'd imagine baking you an apple-pie and preparing the kids for school in the morning; assuming she were actually awake in the morning! Which nicely brings me to the current pop mania for vampires and creatures of the night, via Stephanie Meyer's Twilight and its tremendous marketability: Are dark-named fragrances another manifestation of a youth's desire for safe "danger" and repressed sexuality, as explored via boyish vampire teens who have sharper teeth than other body parts? It's murder, my sweet, not sex!

Arguably black has always been laced with magical qualities too, the sense of inherent danger, the cabbalistic and alchemical symbols tied to its shaded enigma: enter the most representative olfactory case of them all, Magie Noire by Lancome. Apparently in an era where witches are fortunately not burned to the stick with gusto until they're well-done, perfumers show a hankering for well-done renditions instead of dark, earthy and twilight-shaded compositions that lurk within shaded forests, the dark corner and the nighmare alley.

But the obsession with darkness also has to do with fashion and visual cues: Black is not a colour, optically-speaking: It's the absence of colour! This gives it a sort of power that all other colours lack (a comparable case with white but different connotations). Mediterranean cultures who have embraced it because it makes such a strartling constrast with the bright sun knew a thing or two: Picture the lace-headscarf of the Spanish consorts over red blooms, the black cloth of Sicilian and Greek widows against the white-painted little houses. It's not an accident that nidjas are dressed in black, that we have the little black dress (the little red one is a whole different matter), that goths like black, that black has an aura of the occult and the forbidden, even the subversive or the fatal (black death, black metal, black sabbath, black widow...).

I have a personal theory to offer on that matter as well: black is the colour of anonimity! Put someone in black and they mingle right in. "Men in black", remember? The ones supposed to come out of nowehere and zap your memories of close encounters of the third kind out of your system. You can't do that in -say- jade or canary yellow! Therefore black in a genius transition from the visual to the olfactory & the mnemonic allows both the concept of a perfume to be easier to graft on one's self and for one's personality (assuming they have one to begin with) to shine through; allowing the better elements to slowly unveil themselves.

Whether I associate the word "noir" with specific perfumery notes? Not really! Several recent, modern "noir" and "black" fragrances ironically smell exactly "light, fresh, inoffensive, cookie-cutter", so....no. Other people however mention oud, patchouli, resin, smoke, tobacco, incense. It's a your mileage may vary, in any case, not one of "all cats are black in the night".

So what does "noir" signify for you in terms of smell?

And a Game: He or She who recognises all the titles of film-noirs hidden in the text will win a decant off my vintage collection! (hint: they're 10 in total and they're all Google-able)




pics of The Killers and The Narrow Margin via sbccfilmreviews.com, kitsune.noir.blogimages, dvdbeaver.com

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