Sally sells sea "sel" at the sea shore

It's not unusual that my mind reels into well known quotes/parables/phrases that get twisted to serve my purposes. I'm weird like that I guess and words have always being a playground. However the assonance of "s" in the above paradigm is testament to the powers of suggestion as it combines two languages, english and french, both foreign to me. "Sel" means of course "salt" in english and it rhymes quite nice with the original "shell" of the english exercise phrase.
So what does salt have to do with a perfume article, you might ask. As promised, this is part of a new trend in perfumery that is making waves as we speak (it seems that I am very bent on wordplay and puns today).

For the past year there have been many new releases that capitalize on a new aspect, an aroma that would be better appreciated with our taste buds rather than our olfactory skills. I am talking about the salty aspect that several new perfumes have veered into. Taste really encompasses very few variations: there is sweet (primeval like breast milk and thus a little juvenile), sour (for those who prefer a little animation to their palate), salty (a memory of the ocean and minerals, a grounding experience and a health concern for most), bitter (a taste for the adventurous and oh, how appreciated it is in combination with other tastes!) and finally umami (rich, fatty, meaty, the effect of many foods that transpire as full).
And that's it! All tastes are basically a combination of those basic categories. The rest is flavour ~the mystical tryst of taste and olfaction that gives us real pleasure in savouring petit fours and enjoying tiramisu. And of course other factors such as the food's smell, detected by the olfactory epithelium of the nose, its texture, detected by mechanoreceptors, and its temperature, detected by thermoreceptors, come into play.
So it comes as no surprise that experiments conducted with willing volunteers eating potatoes and apples with their nose closed revealed a complete confusion as to what they were consuming, resulting in hysterical results.

So how can a taste experience such as salty be translated into the olfactory realm of perfume? This is where art and innovation come to the fore. And it is very appropriate that we discuss this now that summer is well upon us.

It all began by Eau des Merveilles (=water of wonders), an Hermès fragrance developed a few years past that took the last available batches of real ambergris (suppossedly; there is no way to confirm that) and made them into a limpid, salty, woody alloy fit for women who were not into florals or citrus for summer, yet who wanted a light and refreshing scent nonetheless. A unisex triumph had just erupted.

And then came The Different Company with its Sel de Vetiver in spring 2006: the olfactory rendition of dirty vetiver roots into a glass of marine water. Many proclaimed that it smells like an unwashed sailor, and for that reason it made an impression. Composed by Celine Ellena, Jean Claude's daughter following the illustrious dad's footsteps, it encompasses notes of grapefruit, cardamom, Bourbon geranium, lovage, Haitian vetiver, patchouli, iris and ylang ylang.
Apparently the inspiration was the "scent of salt drying on the skin after bathing in the sea", which is an image I can very well associate with.

Then came in summer 2006 (for Europe at least) the completely mesmerising and delectable L de Lolita Lempicka(for a full review click here). A fragrance that combined the salty aspect of a mermaid with the opulence of vanilla, tonka and musks for an effect that is like skin baked under the sun on a hot secluded beach on a mediterranean isle.
By then the ground was ripe for more launches that viewed the salty note as an intergral part of their formula.

This past winter saw the launch of one of the best salty-sweet compositions for those who appreciate a few M&Ms scattered into their pop-corn like Sarah Jessica Parker apparently does or for those who like to combine fresh watermelon with greek feta cheese for dessert, like it's customary here. I am talking about Elixir des Merveilles, a take on the original that takes the salty element and incorporates it into an orientalised composition that could be worn in any season. It includes notes of orange Peel, , caramel, biscuit accord (vanilla, tonka bean, milk), sandalwood, incense, resins: Peru balsam and balsam of Siam, oak, patchouli, cedar and ambergris, echoing the original Eau des Merveilles.
For a full review, click here.

Terre d'Hermès , the latest men's fragrance by the luxury house, could also be classified under the salty, although it's more mineral than sea-like and has an earthy quality to it that denotes the light touch of the masterful hand of Jean Claude Ellena, a self-proclaimed lover of the salty and bitter.

And soon everyone seemed to be doing salty fragrances: Jo Malone announced the launch of Blue agave and Cacao (news reported here) with notes of cardamom, agave cactus, sea salt and chocolate. Miller Harris came up this May with the new Fleurs de Sel, part of her New Edition collection, inspired by the childhood home of its creator Lyn Harris in Batz sur Mer, which is a village in Brittany located between beaches and salt marshes. Based on the salty facets of vetiver, with mossy and leathery chypre accords it features notes of red thyme oil, rosemary, clary sage, iris nobilis, narcissus, rose, ambrette seed, woods, vetiver, moss, and leather.
And of course Bond no.9 wouldn't be left out of the game, giving us on June 1st their newest and very refreshing scent Coney Island, the equivalent of a salt-rimmed glass of frozen margarita for when languorously lounging by the pool with notes of margarita mix (tequila included), melon, guava, cinnamon, chocolate, caramel, musk, vanilla, cedar and sandalwood. For a full review click here.

All in all, this is a promising market and a new trend that is set to get us out of the well-established sweet tooth of the fruity florals and into the more aspiring compositions of slightly weird yet savoury compositions that call upon our summery disposition and our memory of the ocean from which we came. I don't call this a bad sign. Do you?



Top pic is of Faneromeni Beach at Lesvos, Greece, courtesy of Lesvos.gr
Bottom pic is painting Waves by Katsushika Hokusai (1831) courtesy of allposters.com

Orange Blossom week: part 2 - sexy aromas

What is it that links orange blossom to sexy aromas? Many of the interpretations of this note in perfumery take advantage of the naturally lush and sexual aroma of the blossoms and in our investigation of this subject we have come up against many interesting tidbits of information that might help elucidate why and how.

The use of perfume as an enhancement and not concealement of genitalia and hormone odours has been in practice till ancient times. It was the knowledgable ancient Egyptian women who used Kyphi rolled in miniscule balls, placed in the vulva. They also used amber mixes and civet. The Hindus also used the smell of female genitalia as a classification point for women, in which no one is left unappareciated. In Shakespeare's times it was common for men and women to offer apples to the object of their affection that had been saturated in the sweat of the armpit. That was meant to be a signification of desire and perhaps an early attempt at judging whether the prospective lover's pheromones would intermingle well with their sensibilities.
In the Memoirs of Casanova, we come across an observation that there is a hidden something in the air of a lover's bedroom that would make it very easy to choose between it and Heaven itself. So much is the infatuation that a beloved's body produces in the soul. And on that note who can forget the infamous epistle of Napoléon to Joséphine when he passionately wrote to her: "Je réviens en trois jours; ne te lave pas!" (I return in three days, don't wash yourself)
Anais Nin and Henry Miller were no strangers to the alchemical nature of the odorata sexualis of a lover that can be enhanced by perfume and Nin's personal choice of Caron's Narcisse Noir (a fragrance rich in orange blossom)and Guerlain's Mitsouko shows an appreciation for blends that enhance a person's natural sexual aroma. Beaudelaire, Flaubert (who kept the mittens of his mistress on a drawer for sniffing purposes), Goethe and Reiner Maria Rilke are also literature figures that occupied themselves with the fragrant nature of seduction.
Even in our more pedestrian times the allure of the erotic has been used to great effect in advertising. From Schocking by Schiaparelli to Ambre Sultan by Lutens to Boudoir by Westwood, many perfumes have claimed to capture in fragrant droplets the odorata sexualis of a woman for seduction purposes. Last olfactory example of this being Tom Ford' attempt at it when he proclaimed that his last fragrance Black Orchid was supposed to smell of a man's crotch. I think not, but hey, you have been warned!

Of course like a plethora of things in life much of the effect of something relies on context. Meaning that leaving youself unwashed would not shill your charms to potential lovers necessarily if some particular smell is not pleasant to them or the sweat is rank. It all has to do with delicate proportion and adjustment. In a fascinating experiment by Paul Jellineck, recounted in Essence and Alchemy, people had been asked to smell versions of well-known frags such as Quelques Fleurs by Houbigant and a traditional eau de Cologne with and without the addition of neroli. In the former case the neroli just mingled with the other floral substances adding a fresh note and balancing them, whereas in the latter it seemed sultry and rich and therefore erotically nuanced. This goes to show that although there is a clear cut path to lust and sexuality, eroticism in perfume as in any other area is complex and subtle, dependent on context and associations that need a delicate hand in placing them there.

So how orange blossom is linked to all these exciting observations? Let me shock you a bit in case you were unaware of the fact. Orange Blossom (as well as jasmine) is filled with the fascinating indole.
According to Encyclopedia Brittanica:

Indole, also called Benzopyrrole, is a heterocyclic organic compound occurring in some flower oils, such as jasmine and orange blossom, in coal tar, and in fecal matter. It is used in perfumery and in making tryptophan, an essential amino acid, and indoleacetic acid (heteroauxin), a hormone that promotes the development of roots in plant cuttings. First isolated in 1866, it has the molecular formula C8H7N.

It is this base ingredient that is so abundant in white florals -among them orange blossom to a moderate degree- that apparently gives a nod to the human aspect of our existence and reminds us of our primeval objects in life: to have sex and procreate. In this context it is no accident that orange blossom is traditionally used in wedding wreaths, as discussed yesterday.
Therefore if a catcall to carnality is your objective, yet you want to go about it more discreetly than resorting to civet (the pungent extract of the anal glands of a species of the Viverridae shaped like a small fox and native to Abysinnia, Java, Borneo, Sumatra and Bengal and farmed in Ethiopia for perfume purposes), orange blossom can be a Heaven sent destined to confine you in the abyss of Hell.

For this purpose there is no better choice than the rich, sultry, lush and totally feminine with a capital F Fleurs d'oranger by Serge Lutens. Luckily a part of the export line, but also available in a beautiful bell jar in the exclusive Palais Royal for Shiseido line of scents, it is the essence of classy sexiness captured in a bottle. Like a woman of mature wiles sitting under an orange grove contemplating serious romance and seduction it is multi-nuanced with precious essences of white jasmine and indian tuberose that enhance the indolic aspect to magnificent proportions, laced with the sprinkle of fiery spice like cumin and nutmeg rolled in tangy citrus peel, all the while exuding aromas of muskiness and floralncy in alrernative overlappings like the tongue of a skillful lover. The inclusion of rose and hibiscus seeds consolidates the velours aspect of a base that never really leaves the skin, reminding you of happy romance even after it is just a distant memory in the farthest corners of your mind.


Next post will tackle another aspect of orange blossom.

Art photography by Spyros Panayiotopoulos, courtesy of eikastikon.gr