Montale Luban -incense with guts: fragrance review

 There is a serenity but also a dark horror surrounding incense. The zen and the apocryphal. Which is which, each time? While Kilian's Incense Oud composition is overwhelmingly frankincense dominant rather than aloeswood (oudh), which is exactly why I like it so much, in Montale's Louban, the dominance of frankincense betrays the given pyramid and audience's impressions: there is no distinct oudh with its usual bitter, medicinal and smoky nuance, but neither is it associated with the Middle East, being more reminiscent of Ethiopian dry landscapes with their resinous bushes and trees. 

Nummen by Husvik, via Pinterest

 

Mysterious citrusy-pine effects zing at the top of Montale Louban, as sour and crystal clear white frankincense does (after all, this is what luban means according to our Arab speaking readers) and this overwhelms the nostrils initially. A phase that may be considered sharp by non-mystics, but necessary for the spiritual uplifting and purification that frankincense brings - literally and figuratively.

And because the heat is rising as we speak, coupled with Saharan sand winds that travel over the Mediterranean, this dry incense has been keeping me company for the gloomiest days when the sky is cast with this alien shade of orange-grey that denotes a Saharan gust of sand storm...It's priceless.

Comme des Garçons Incense Series Avignon: fragrance review

Using as fine fragrance the equivalent of ecclesiastic incense of the Catholic variety, marvelously assimilated in Avignon by Comme de Garçons (2002), is an acquired taste for many and probably a bit of a sacrilege for some. But for perfumer Bertrand Duchaufour it must have felt relieving to drive out the ghosts of the past by appropriating them a dissimilar role.

via

Comme des Garçons Avignon fragrance, named after the French seat of the Papal court during the conflict with Rome in the 14th century, evokes grim cathedrals and catacombs with centuries of humidity and tangy frankincense smoke attached to their stony walls. To give the background of the name a short historical perspective, it all arose from a conflict of power.

Following the strife between Philip IV of France and Pope Boniface VIII, and the death of his successor Benedict XI after eight months in office, a rupture was evident between the French crown and the Pope seat in Rome. The conclave elected Clement V, in 1305. Clement, who was a Frenchman, declined to move to Rome, and in 1309, he moved his court to the papal enclave at Avignon, where it remained for the next 67 years enjoying a succession of no less than 7 French popes.

via wikimedia commons

Incense reigns in Bertrand's work,  accounted for in reverse psychology by his strict Catholic upbringing. When church duties collide with corporal punishment, guilt and internal suffering, it might become rather discomfitting. The realm of the senses, smell in particular, retains nevertheless a visceral appeal, enhanced via the perverted pleasure nascent from that which is denied of: ambrette and labdanum in the scent of CDG Avignon recall the sinful body...

For someone like me, raised in the Christian Orthodox faith, I find that the fragrance of Avignon, due to its smoky and denser background with patchouli and moss, bears kinship with my Mediterranean memories of church incense wafting off Byzantine abodes. I may have been spared the rod, but I can identify with the odd sensuality of an austere type of scent which I shouldn't really like, yet which I end up loving all the same.

Related reading on PerfumeShrine: 

The Incense Series: a Holy Week through Incense Scents
Incense fragrance reviews 

Procuring Ancient Arabian Essences

One of the delights of being a historian and a perfume writer is coming across excerpts which combine these two subjects. The Histories by Herodotus, the Greek "father of history", had been among my most beloved childhood readings; the wrapping of detailed cultural observations and travelogues (Herodotus was a great traveller) into the grander scheme of the clash of two civilizations and the ideals they represented had been especially exciting to my impressionable mind. Releafing through them for another project I again come across the passage about Arabia and the ancient aromatic essences produced in this most fragrant of lands.

Source: Uploaded by user via Nia on Pinterest

Let's hear it from the man himself:

"Again, the most southerly country is Arabia; and Arabia is the only place that produces frankincense, myrrh, cassia, cinnamon and the gum called ledanon. All these, except myrrh, cause the Arabians a lot of trouble to collect. When they gather frankincense, they burn styrax (the gum which is brought into Greece by the Phoenicians) in order to raise a smoke to drive off the flying snakes; these snakes, the same which attempt to invade Egypt, are small in size and of various colors, and great umbers of them keep guard over the trees which bear the frankincense, and the only way to get rid of them is by smoking them out with storax. [...]
When the Arabians go out to collect cassia*, they cover their bodies and faces, all but their eyes, with ox-hides and other skins. The plant grows in a shallow lake, which together with the ground about it, is infested by winged creatures very like bats, which screech alarmingly and are very pugnacious. They have to be kept from attacking the men's eyes while they are cutting the cassia. [...]
The process of collecting cinnamon* is still more remarkable. Where it comes from, and what country produces it, they do not know; the best some of them can do is to make a fair guess that it grows somewhere in the region that Dionysus was brought ip.What they say is that the dry sticks, which we have learned from the Phoenicians to call cinnamon, are brought by large birds, which carry them to their nests, made of mud, on mountain precipices, which no man can climb, and that the method the Arabians have invented for getting hold of them is to cut up the bodies of dead oxen or donkeys, or dead animals into large joints,  which they carry to the spot in question and leave on the ground near the nests. Then they retire to a safe distance and the birds fly down and carry off the joints of meat to their nests, which not bring strong enough to bear the weight, break and fall to the ground. Then the men come along and pick up the cinnamon, which is subsequently exported to other countries. [...]
Still more surprising is the way to get ledanon -or ladanum, as the Arabians call it. Sweet-smelling substance thought it is, it is found in a most malodorous place; sticking, namely, like glue in the beards of he-goats who have been browsing in the bushes. It is used as an ingredient in many kinds of perfume, and is what the Arabians chiefly burn as incense. So much for perfumes; let me only add that the whole country exhales an odor marvelously sweet. "
  ~Herodotus, The Histories, book III. (Translation in English by Aubrey de Selincourt)

*Cassia and cinnamon come from the same tree, the only difference being that cinnamon is properly the branch with the bark on, whereas cassia is the bark without the branch. Ever since the former ceased to be traded, the latter has usurped the name, therefore "our" cinnamon is the cassia of the ancients. Pliny's description of the cassia agrees with the real cinnamon. (Therefore the "cinnamon" mentioned by Herodotys if not altogether a fable should be the calamus, or aromatic reed, mentioned by Diodorus and in Exodus.) The Phoenician word was probably identical with the Hebrew, cinamom, hence the Greek κινάμμωμον,  and the Latin 'cinnamum'.
Samuel Bochart [Geographia Sacra seu Phaleg et Canaan (Caen 1646) II.iii] observes that all Greek names of spices are of Semitic origin. As the Phoenicians imported all those spices into Greece they would naturally be known to the Greeks by their Phoenician names.

Twin Peaks: L'Eau Froide by Lutens and Passage d'Enfer by L'Artisan Parfumeur

Monastic, cool, ethereal? In many ways L'Eau Froide is anti-Lutens, whereas Passage d'Enfer is L'Artisan Parfumeur down to the most minuscule detail. Though both brands are pioneers of niche, as Now Smell This notes they're a "study in contrasts". The Byzantine plot of a typical Serge Lutens is bringing the exotica of the Moroccan souk into a 19th century aesthete's dream sequence and from there into an urbanite's esoteric scent collection. L'Artisan on the other hand approaches perfumery via a luminous, refined, transparent approach as championed by founder Jean Laporte and perfumers Jean Claude Ellena, Olivia Giacobetti, Anne Flipo and Betrand Duchaufour. Even the ambers in the L'Artisan line are diaphanous instead of thick whereas their woody and "green" fragrances smell the way psithurism sounds.

via birdytg.blogspot.com

And yet...Inhale the icy ringing air coming from the thundra filling your lungs. Feel the chill of cold water in a silver-tiled pool where you anticipated warmth. Remember the surprising burning sensation on your tongue upon munching an ice cube against the hardness of adamantine. Feel the wet, clean feel of stones in a brook. And imagine a kiss from dead lips... If De Profundis aimed to capture the scent of death, the cold tentacles of a serene end to all can be felt in L'Eau Froide, from the pristine white-lined coffin to earth's cool embrace. I personally find this philosophical attitude to mortality very peaceful and cleasing to the mind. And not totally antithetical to the ethos of Lutens, come to think of it.

The terpenic, bright side of Somalian frankincense (reminiscent of crushed pine needles) is given prominence in Passage d'Enfer, much like in the Lutens 'eau' which unfolds the terpenes after a fresh mint start; this exhibits a hint of pepperiness (could it be elemi, another resin?) giving a trigeminal nerve twist. The effect is dry and very clean indeed (but unlike the screechy aldehydic soapiness & ironing starch of the first L'Eau), with a lemony, bitter orange rind note that projects as resinous rather than fruity and a projection and sillage that are surprising for something so ghostly, so ethereal, so evanescent. It's the scrubbing mitt of a monastery in the southern coastline, rather than the standard aquatic full of synthetic molecules dihydromyrcenol and Calone coming out of the cubicle in an urban farm. 

Still this aesthetic is something with which the average perfumista hasn't come to terms with yet; it will probably take a whole generation to reconcile perfumephiles with "clean" after the horros that have befallen them in the vogue for non-perfume-perfumes in the last 20 years. I'm hopeful. After all being a perfumista means challenging your horizons, right?

Notes for L'Eau Froide (2012): olibanum, sea water, musk, vetiver, mint, incense, pepper and ginger
Notes for Passage d'Enfer (1999): lily, incense, woodsy notes and musk.

Both are available through niche distributors at more or less comparative price-points.

Maria Candida Gentile Exultat: fragrance review

Exultat by Italian perfumer Maria Candida Gentile is touching on both the contrast and the accomodating orifices between citrus and sacerdotal frankincense. The latter naturally possesses citrusy facets on top, making the combination register as an increase in tonality for a few minutes, an effect also explored in Etro's Shaal Nur. The ecclesiastical connotation of resinous frankincense (olibanum) couldn't go amiss: The story goes that signora Gentile was inspired by a visit to the church of Saint Lorence in Lucina during the hour of Vespers.

But in Exultat the hesperidic top note soon dissipates to give way to a very detectable and unusual in such a context violet leaf note; silvery, quiet and crepuscular, like linen purified in a wash of ashes and countryside lavender. This technique mollifies the natural smokiness of frankincense, rendering it purer, subtler and very wearable with the soft feel of Grey Flannel. We might have been conditioned to regard frankincense fragrances as reclusive, monastic and intellectualized, but here is proof they can be wordly, human and smiling as well, which is a feat in itself.


Notes for Maria Candida Gentile Exultat:
top: lime, bitter orange, orange and olibanum;
middle: powdery violet and fresh violet leaf;
base: woodsy notes, vetiver and virginia cedar.

photo by Sarah Rose Smiley

Serge Lutens L'Eau Froide: fragrance review & draw

Inhale the icy ringing air coming from the thundra filling your lungs. Feel the chill of cold water in a silver-tiled pool where you anticipated warmth. Remember the surprising burning sensation on your tongue upon munching an ice cube against the hardness of adamantine. Feel the wet, clean feel of stones in a brook. And imagine a kiss from dead lips...
If De Profundis aimed to capture the scent of death, the cold tentacles of a serene end to all can be felt in L'Eau Froide, from the pristine white-lined coffin to earth's cool embrace. I personally find this philosophical attitude to mortality very peaceful and cleasing to the mind.

Icy, you say? 
The bottle and the box of L'eau Froide are inscribed with iterations of coldness...cold, icy cold, frosted, transparent, crystalline, calm, ice salt, large glass of water...

Cold? Yes, it is. But very pleasantly so.

I'm a firm believer in the cooling properties of unadulterated frankincense, the kind at the heart of L'Eau Froide, which I burn regularly: After all, the raw material shares terpenic, citrusy top notes in itself, which dissipate and volatilise quickly rendering that cool smoky ambience we associate with stone temples of old. But amongst fumeheads of northern latitudes, removed from the warmth & sun of the Mediterranean where frankincense use flourished, ‘frosty’ and ‘glacial’ are not adjectives we tend to associate with incense (rather pyrocaustic is, although on Perfume Shrine we have devoted a whole series to different   varieties and  nuances of incense fragrances). Nor is the association of niche orientals ~where incense notes are the bread & butter of perfumers fast becoming rock stars. But frankincense/olibanum, the par excellence incense note, is indeed cool: it can become very smoky and dense when in high concentration, but the more you dilute it the more it gains lemony, fresh facets that inspire deep breathing, the cleansing kind.

Serge’s press upon this newest fragrance is probably what matters anyway: ‘People only notice the pyrogen facet in smoky incense burners… but not the coolness, except for the church’s."

Inspirations
Before we jump into conclusions in how the maestro is doing atypical work, fandom-alienating possibly as in his first L'Eau,  let's remember, Serge Lutens is no stranger to cool incense in his impressive line already: Encens & Lavande takes on the ashen facets of lavender-nuanced smoke, while Serge Noire is the spicy, warm & cool contrast of meditation. Nor is he a stranger to gothic coldness itself: from the "Girl with the Dragon Tattoo" hard-as-nails menthol blast opening in Tubereuse Criminelle, to the perverse aloofness of Bas de Soie and the lavender-tinged greyness of Gris Clair, all the way to the bluish, dead lips of Iris Silver Mist... L'Eau Froide comes as the natural evolution of spermatic ideas in all these fragrances: the herbaceous top note that cools the sinuses, the chilling dampness, the resinous incense, the clean underbelly...

But we could be short-sighted if we didn't consider fragrances with a semblance outside the Lutens seraglio too: What L'Eau Froide reminds me most of is one of my favourite summer incense waters: Passage d'Enfer, composed by Olivia Giacobetti for L'Artisan Parfumeur. I must have gone through crates of it...
The terpenic, bright side of Somalian frankincense (reminiscent of crushed pine needles) is given prominence in Passage d'Enfer, much like in the Lutens 'eau' which unfolds the terpenes after a fresh mint start; this exhibits a hint of pepperiness (could it be elemi, another resin?) giving a trigeminal nerve twist. The effect is dry and very clean indeed (but unlike the screechy aldehydic soapiness & ironing starch of the first L'Eau), with a lemony, bitter orange rind note that projects as resinous rather than fruity and a projection and sillage that are surprising for something so ghostly, so ethereal, so evanescent.

It's the scrubbing mitt of a monastery in the southern coastline, rather than the standard aquatic full of dihydromyrcenol and Calone coming out of the cubicle in an urban farm. Still this aesthetic is something with which the average perfumista hasn't come to terms with yet; it will probably take a whole generation to reconcile perfumephiles with "clean" after the horros that have befallen them in the vogue for non-perfume-perfumes in the last 20 years. I'm hopeful. After all being a perfumista means challenging your horizons, right?
The little human warmth in the deep drydown of the new Lutens comes from the refined, vegetal musks that hide in Voyage d'Hermès or Goutal's Musk Nomade (ambrette seed); eschewing too sweet and powdery for a slightly bitter, metallic edge reminiscent of the iron in blood. The whole projects with a mineral quality, like cool peebles at the foot of a lemon tree.

Who will like L'Eau Froide and who will not

Incense accolytes who appreciate the monastic qualities of Tauer's Incense Extrême, the coolness & pine of Zagorsk and the white lily whiteness of Passage d'Enfer are the prime target of L'Eau Froide.
So are those who like Eau de Gentiane Blanche and Voyage d'Hermès. I think L'Eau Froide will be more popular with men than with women who view this dry mineral facet as emasculating.
The cool customers of Chanel No.19 (especially the eau de toilette which is rich in vetiver) and Paco Rabanne's Calandre, as well as YSL Rive Gauche for women, might also be satisfied with the silvery sheen of this Lutens fragrance. If on the other hand you prefer for your incense fix the densely oriental mixes like Caron's Parfum Sacré, the rich balsamic formulae like Ormonde Jayne Tolu, and the sophisticated smoky warmth of Hotel Costes, you would be totally disappointed. Then  again you might be an omnivore, like me.
It's of note that no comparison can be effectively made with Etro's Messe de Minuit: Whereas the Etro is a chameleon, smelling in varying degrees of warm or cool according to your GPS positioning when wearing it, the Lutens is a la la la constant tune that doesn't waver much. 

Will I wear it? 
I was somewhat confused with last year's Lutens De Profundis and Vitriol d'Oeillet. Though arguably not the height of originality, I see myself dousing myself with L'Eau Froide each time I want to feel that chill on the small of my back that denotes either solace from a heatwave Med-style, or the exciting but safe thrill of peeking within the crypt when demons are hiding low on a snowy winter's day.

L’Eau Froide, a clear eau de parfum concentration of fragrance sees his previous L'Eau Serge Lutens joined by a similar-looking bottle. (1.7oz/50ml and 3.4 oz./100ml, 69 and 100 euros respectively at select doors stocking Lutens fragrances from March 2012).

For our readers an advance sample sprayer is offered. Please tell us your incense memories, if you have any. 
Draw is open till Sunday 26th midnight.

pic of the Dead Sea via english.al-akhbar.com 

Definition: Resinous & Balsamic Fragrances

One of the most elusive terms in fragrance terminology appears to be -according to readers' comments- "resinous" and "balsamic", as relating to perfumes. The raw materials falling under the umbrella of resins and balsams are among the most ancient components of perfumes, often the basis of the Oriental family of scents and lending their soothing opulence and depth to other families, such as the Chypres. They make their appearence known in any category though: florals, fougères, hesperidics also benefit from a touch here and there.

The distinction between resin and balsam is one of form, on a fundamental level: Simply put and generalising, resinous materials come in the form of solidified, gum-like "tears" seeping from the elixir vitae circulating into the bark of big trees, such as the Boswellia Carteri (which produces frankincense). Balsams on the other hand are trickly materials, not necessarily tree secretions, often coming as they do from flower pods or bushy twigs (such as vanilla orchids or the Mediterranean rockrose). But there are exceptions to every rule: Opopanax, though resinous smelling itself, actually comes from a herb, opopanax chironium.
So the real focus when referencing balsamic and resinous terminology is how the materials actually smell and how they're different or common in scent, rather than what their origin is. 
Therefore, for ease, resinous & balsamic materials are classified into 3 distinct olfactory profiles according to their aromatic properties first and foremost.

Soft balsamic smelling ingredients include:

• vanilla (from the vanilla orchid, the rich pod having a more complex rum-like note than the popular synthetic ethyl vanillin)

• benzoin gum (from Styrax Tonkiniensis with a sweetish, caramel and vanillic facet; benzoin Siam or benzoin Sumatra are used in perfumery)

• Peru balsam (coming from the Myroxylon, ~literally "fragrant wood" in Greek~ or Quina/Balsamo, a different species of which also produces Tolu balsam)

• Tolu balsam (close to Peru balsam, but a little sweeter and fresher)

• cistus labdanum (leathery, ambery, deep, coming from the rockrose bush and traditionally harvested from the hairs of goats who had grazed on the rockrose).

These materials have a gentle tone, while at the same time they're softly enveloping and have a pronounced character. They fix flowers into lasting longer and thanks to their properties when used in large quantities produce the semi-Orientals or the florientals (in conjunction with rich floral essences). 
A great example of a fragrance featuring copious amounts of Tolu balsam is Tolu perfume by Ormonde Jayne. The opulence of the balsamic note mollifies the rest of the composition, giving the golden sheen of a multi-faceted citrine. Tolu also makes floral notes more candied: in Fracas by Piguet it acts on the tuberose, on Gold by Donna Karan it enhances the ambery lily.
Compare and contrast with the balsamic base of Guerlain's Vol de Nuit which features a generous helping of Peru balsam; the oriental accord gives it its opulence under the green top note. In Ambre Sultan by Lutens, Peru balsam pairs with its traditional counterpart, an oriental amber accord. Elixir des Merveilles is another one which features balsam of Peru for its sweetly grounding qualities.

For labdanum, grab Donna Karan Labdanum, L'Air du desert Marocain by Andy Tauer, La Labo Labdanum 18 or Madame X by Ava Luxe: they're full of it.
The purest incarnation of benzoin in non gum form is Papier d'Armenie, the traditional scented little papers in a cute notebook, which burnt produce a clearing, anti-microbial atmosphere to one's home. Short of that, if you don't travel to Europe often, you can get a sample of Bois d'Armenie by Guerlain, or Prada Candy. Benzoin is very versatile spanning the fragrance families from citrus to woods and florals and its heft is therefore used frequently as it complements the other notes beautifully. Chanel's Coromandel fuses the vanilla-cinnamon notes of benzoin with a white chocolate note to render a delicious and sophisticated gourmand fragrance. Both benzoin and Tolu balsam make up the surprisingly monastic backdrop of Bal a Versailles by Jean Desprez, allied to the austerity of cedar.

If you are seeking a lush balsamic composition with multi-nuanced orientalia, seek no further than Mecca Balsam by La via del Profumo; it features labdanum, real oud and franckincense as well, so it's a composite that allows one to see how categories can be combined.

Vanillic fragrances are of course widely understood by everyone, so another article of a different scope, focusing on their merits and faults, is in order.

Resinous balsamic smelling ingredients include:

• opoponax/opopanax (also called "sweet myrrh" ~though no relation~ from the Opopanax chironium herb, scented between lavender & amber)

• frankincense/olibanum (the lemony-top, smoky smelling "tears" of the Boswellia carteri tree, called lubbān in Arabic)

• myrrh gum (a waxy oleoresin with a bitterish profile from the Commiphora myrrha)

• birch tar (from "cooked" birch wood, tar-smelling)

• elemi (a peppery, lemony, pine-like yellow oil coming from the steam-distilled or treated with volatile solvents resin of the Canarium Lizonicum)

• styrax (resin from the Liquidambar Orientalis tree, with a scent reminiscent of glue and cinnamon)

Valued since antiquity, resins have been widely used in incense and perfumery. Highly fragrant and antiseptic resins and resin-containing perfumes have been used by many cultures as medicines for a large variety of ailments. It's no coincidence that the three Magi gave baby Jesus the gifts of Frankincense, Myrrh and Gold. Traditionally used to make incense (King Solomon regarded opoponax as the noblest incense gum), even nowadays in the Middle East and the Mediterranean basin frankincense and myrrh "tears" are the incense par excellence still. These materials are deeper, with a lingering trail which adds originality and projection to a composition. Since they themselves typically come from the bark of trees in the form of crystalised resin "tears", they pair very well with woody scents.

If you want to get a taste of how some of the more "esoteric" of these smell, , say opoponax grab yourself the Diptyque Opopanax scent in either room spray or candle, as well as their Myrrh candle. They provide the scent in isolation. The iconic Shalimar as well as the masculine counterpart Habit Rouge owe their "flou" hazy effect in opoponax allied to orange blossom. For myrrh, Myrrhe Ardente in Les Orientalistes line by Annick Goutal and La Myrrhe by Serge Lutens provide two nuanced and quite different "readings" of the myrrh gum in complex compositions.
Athonite frankincense in the black variety is pure frankincense/olibanum gum (it's pliable when you rub it, like chewing gum), rising in clean, citrusy-smoky ringlets on the air; I burn it on small coal tablets regularly. There are many frankincense fragrances in the niche market, the truer perhaps being Avignon by Comme des Garcons, but the whole Incense Series is to be explored for the truly interested perfume lover.
Tauer's Incense Extrême is a good starting place for frankincense variants, based as it is on the Boswellia serrata (Indian incense) at a 25% concentration.

Birch tar is easily detected in compositions of the Cuir de Russie type (from Chanel Cuir de Russie to Piver's and Guerlain Cuir de Russie). This is also a material that can be classified in the sub-group of phenolic smells. It is pungent and dark.
Elemi is often used in masculine blends to give at the same time cooling piquancy and warmth thanks to its peppery top note: try Gucci by Gucci, notice the top note of L'Instant pour Homme (Guerlain) and the unique Eau de Naphe by Comptoir Sud Pacifique. For styrax, remember that the resin has a leathery facet with incense tonalities (and has been an important supporting player in "Cuir de Russie" compositions, such as Chanel's). Notice it in the drydown of Carven's Ma Griffe, in Poivre 23 by Le Labo and in No.11 Cuir Styrax by Prada. Lutens uses it beautifully in several of his scents, notably in the base note of Tubereuse Criminelle and Cuir Mauresque.

Nota bene that even though fir, pine and copal essences come from coniferous trees themselves,  I am not including them in the resinous and balsamic classification as they're really terpenic-smelling (a perfume definition to be elaborated on in a subsequent article).

There is also a sub-set of powdery balsamic smelling ingredients which do not come in resin or balsam form, therefore they are not classified into this category via origin at all, but rather via their scent profile alone. This includes: orris root (the Iris Pallida rhizome and also the synthetic irones-rich reproductions), several musks of synthetic origin, and carrot seed oil (which can give an orris scent in itself).
Amber mixes (refer to what amber is and its difference from ambergris on this link) can also be powdery balsamic smelling: the inclusion of benzoin (which gives a sweetish, baby talc note) and vanilla in the mix of ingredients in amber is the culprit. In French terminology/classification of orientalised perfumes they're refered to as "parfums ambrés" (even when not entirely focused on amber). For instance Obsession, the original Magie Noire (not the reformulated which is greener, more chypre) or Moschino by Moschino (again the original from 1987) are examples of perfumes "ambrés". It is important NOT to confuse between a balsamic/ambery powdery ambience (which is typically sweeter) and one which is powdery/dry (such as in Aromatics Elixir, Ma Griffe, Flower by Kenzo, DK Cashmere Mist): the two terms though very close are not interchangeable.

In concluding, the necessity of establishing a common language for scent among people who talk about the same perfumes increasingly arises. Even though we commonly use subjective terms to denote our feelings, the proper terminology, in accordance to how perfumers talk among themselves, aids a thorough understanding  and enhances our communicating our impressions on an immediately graspable context. It is this need which we try to address with our articles on Perfume Vocabulary and Definition on PerfumeShrine. If you haven't caught up with our relevant articles, here's what you might have missed:

• Definition: Indolic vs. Non Indolic
• Definition: Lactonic, Creamy, Milky, Butyric
• Definition: Powdery & Dry in Fragrances
• Definition: Soapy in Fragrances
• Definition: Phenolic, Terpenic, Camphoraceous scents
• Definition: Which Material Produces Which Note/Effect?

Photo of resin drops, some rights reserved by flod/flickr, censer pic via St.Dunstan's Priory

Serge Lutens L'Eau Froide: new fragrance

When Lutens launched L’Eau Serge Lutens, in 2010, he didn't mince his words: ‘When I presented L’Eau to my team, I felt like Saint Just informing the nobles they were going to lose their privileges.’ The concept behind L'Eau by Lutenswas interesting to analyse, even if the reality of the fragrance was lukewarm to hard-core Lutens fans such as myself. Now, he's following up with a second "Eau". Who, the magus of orientalia? Apparently yes.

True to his signature blend of humor and provocation, next March the divine Serge will be presenting the follow-up: L’Eau Froide, a clear eau de parfum concentration of fragrance that will see his previous Eau joined by a similar-looking bottle. (1.7oz/50ml and 3.4 oz./100ml, 69 and 100 euros respectively at select doors stocking Lutens fragrances in March 2012).
What will Serge Lutens's upcoming fragrance L'Eau Froide smell like, though?

He only reveals frankincense aong the fragrance notes, the classic Catholic and Orthodox ecclesiastical incense note. ‘Frosty’ and ‘glacial’ are enot adjectives we tend to associate with incense (rather pyrocaustic is, although on Perfume Shrine we have devoted a whole series to different  varieties and  nuances of incense fragrances). But Serge’s response is probably what matters anyway: ‘People only notice the pyrogen facet in smoky incense burners… but not the coolness, except for the church’s.’Incidentally, Lutens is no stranger to incense in his impressive line already: Encens & Lavande takes on the ashen facets of lavender-nuanced smoke, while Serge Noire is the spicy, warm & cool contrast of serene meditation.
Back to the newest Lutens L'Eau Froide: "To begin with, it is cold, but in a nice way. Smells like rosemary, pepper… a slightly spicy-aldehyde-y effect, like bay leaves. A minty sensation too, plus a woody pinch of eucalyptus. Who knows, maybe it’s meant as a wink and a nod to Morocco’s “hammams”, or Turkish baths?" writes Nicolas Olczyk trying. it.

The bottle and the box are inscribed with iterations of coldness...cold, icy cold, frosted, transparent, crystalline, calm, ice salt, large glass of water...
I'm a firm believer in the cooling properties of unadulterated frankincense which I burn regularly: After all, the raw material shares citrusy top notes in itself, which dissipate and volatilise quickly rendering that cool smoky ambience we associate with stone temples of old.
One is quick to suppose that this "second act" might actually be an abandonded mod in the creative process of either of Serge's previous incense fragrances (or even of his L'Eau), but I can't wait to smell this aromatic interpetation of one of my favourite notes all the same. Expect a full review soon!

Photo by Fred Boisssonnas, Old Metsovo 1913, Greece, To the springs.

Le Labo Gaiac 10: fragrance review

Perfumer Annick Ménardo does a Marc Buxton on us with Le Labo Gaiac 10; a sensual, diaphanous and creamy season-less woody fragrance with just the barest hint of soft, sweet musks and comforting, meditative incense in the drydown. Why so? Because Annick shares the beloved mixture of Ambroxan and Iso-E Super of Buxton's famous woody incenses and fluffies his somber yet clean style with the infusion of a hint of sweetness that lends come hither charm to the proceedings.: a delicate balance fit for an experienced trapeze artist.

Gaïac is a very hard greenish wood that isn’t as dry as cedar and that is subtle, profound, and stable. Le Labo’s GAIAC 10, a perfume extract that has been developed in partnership with cult perfumer Annick Ménardo (Bulgari Black, Lolita Lempicka, Patchouli 24) in 2008, is a tense formula built on gaïac wood and surrounded by muscs (4 different synthetic musk types in all), with hints of cedar and olibanum (incense). If you like the meditative, cool Eastern incense vibe of Kyoto by Comme de Garçons, you have good chances to appreciate that element in the Le Labo offering. The musks are the "clean" variety, lightly sweet with a faintly fruity tonality, with no funk or sweat involved. The woody background with a light peppery nuance is reminiscent of the base notes treatment in Poivre Samarkande for Hermessences and Bang by Marc Jacobs. (So we know it's Iso E Super that's doing the trick). And of course there's incense. Subtle, coolish, lightly smoky incense, contemplative and serene.

Essentially monochromatic, entirely linear but pleasurably so, I find that Gaiac 10 projects as a secret aura more than a fragrance: It's the type of scent to wear when you desire people to spontaneously exclaim "you smell good" instead of "your fragrance smells good".

The lasting power of Le Labo Gaiac 10 is amazingly good, about 12 hours and going on my skin, while the perfume wears close to the body, yet still enough to be noticeable at all times during a hug or a kiss. Marketed as a masculine, I believe it is in reality a shared fragrance and it would be ultra neat for lovers to share; just imagine the possibilities, assuming that the steep price point is not a deterrent! It is available in the standard basic apothecary style bottle and label of Le Labo, customized per customer and only available in Tokyo; unless you get the opportunity to catch this in the course of Japan Relief while supplies last online for a limited time only (find out more on the link).

Still from the film Der Himmel über Berlin (Wings of Desire) by Wim Wenders (1987).

Guerlain Aqua Allegoria Flora Nerolia: fragrance review

There is nothing more early April-like than the smell of bitter orange trees blossoming, their waxy white petals infiltrating the glossy green of the leaves and some fruit still hanging from the branches, like a reminder of what has been already accomplished.


Guerlain captured the ethereal vapors of steam off these delicate, ravishing blossoms and married them to a pre-emptying summer jasmine (middle-ground indolic) and the faint whiff of cool frankincense burning inside a Greek Orthodox church preparing for the country's most devout celebration: Easter. The citrusy aspects of frankincense compliment the fruitier aspects of neroli. Musk in the form of synthetic Cashmeran is anchoring the effect on skin. Guerlain's Flora Nerolia (a part of the original line up in the Aqua Allegoria line in 2000 composed by perfumer Mathilde Laurent) is like a snapshot of late Lent in Greece and for that reason is absolutely precious to me.

Notes for Guerlain Aqua Allegoria Flora Nerolia:
neroli and petitgrain (citrus leaves & twigs) in the top, and jasmine and orange blossom in the heart. Frankincense for the base.

Lamentably discontinued (much like the rest of the original line-up composed by Mathilde Laurent) with the exception of Herba Fresca and Pamplune, Flora Nerolia can be sometimes found on Ebay.
The history, notes and short reviews of all the Guerlain Aqua Allegoria scents can be found on this link. 

Background on the Photo (by anomieus/flickr):
As far back as the time of the dowager empress Wilhelmine Amalie an orangery garden was laid out at Schönbrunn which included a hothouse for overwintering bitter orange trees. In 1754 Franz I Stephan instigated the building of the Orangery by Nicola Pacassi, probably to designs by Nicolas Jadot. One hundred and eighty-nine metres long and ten metres wide, the Schönbrunn Orangery is one of the two largest Baroque orangeries in the world, the other being at Versailles. The south façade is articulated by an alternating series of large and smaller apertures with rusticated pilasters decorated with masks. The interior has a rhythmic sequence of shallow vaults and is heated by a hypocaust system. The Orangery served not only as the winter quarters for citrus trees and other potted plants but was also a winter garden used for imperial court festivities. Joseph II was especially fond of holding celebrations in the Orangery with festively-decorated banqueting tables, ranks of flowering plants and illuminations in the citrus trees. During a winter festivity in 1786 Mozart conducted his Singspiel "The Impresario" here.
The rear part of the Orangery is still used in its original function, while the front section, which has been renovated, is used for events such as the Schönbrunn Palace Concert series.

By Kilian Incense Oud: fragrance review

Nothing is more alluring than the forbidden and at a time when the Muslim world appears as West's "enemy" in the zeitgeist, the surge for Arabian-inspired perfumes is gaining momentum thanks to that very axiom. Incense Oud by Kilian is one member of the cast in this multi-character play where prestige and polish are given to niche lines through the claim on age-old materials, such as oud/agarwood and incense; but it's not just a supporting player.

Incense Oud managed to make me notice ~my nose has become seriously jaded with oud-claiming notes in just about every price-point in the market!~ and that's no small feat. Is it because oud has become a play on perception since the perfume doesn't -apparently- contain any? Smoother than the Montale aoud scents, which possess that "Band-Aid note" so distinctly and which announce their presence from five blocks away, the Kilian fragrance feels very wearable and with its elegant eloqution of Eastern materials manages to smell at once mysterious and meditative. It's an "oud fragrance" for non-oud-lovers, but it doesn't betray the promise of Middle Eastern atmosphere.

To an audience of men and women tired of the pop celebritoids popping up through reality TV and one-hit wonders, a media plate brimming with upstarts ready to forsake their panties at the drop of a nickel and eager to leak their own sex video tapes online, a veiled lady or a tanned Arabian prince half hidden under a djelaba look not only exotic, but infinitely classy. When on the other hand you have a Colossus such as LVMH, the Group behind the By Kilian brand (indeed Kilian Hennesy is the heir to the throne of the cognac empire) supporting and pushing the Arabian Scent Concept to anyone willing to look beyond Walmart, you can bet you have a sizzling hot trend on your hands!

As announced, By Kilian Incense Oud is the newest installation to the "Arabian Nights" collection. It is a dark and well balanced blend of frankincense & woods (cedar, patchouli and sandalwood get amped by the naturally leathery accents of cistus labdanum and the murkiness of a little oakmoss) evoking the "impression" of oud. The patchouli gets a boozy, almost licoriced facet, it's soft and quite delicious.
The first impression you get from Incense Oud is terpenes-rich frankincense, the kind you smell in Catholic churches (the Roman Catholic Church sources its supplies from Somalia); in fact the brand claims it makes a quart of the total formula! It doesn't present itself as a hard-core incense fragrance nevertheless and there is no smoky trail, but rather a resinous quality about it. The naturally citric facets of this ancient gum are reinforced by complimentary notes (methyl pamplemouse for one, which is grapefruit-like). The natural pairing of oud on the other hand is traditionally rose, but you can't quite pinpoint this is as rosy. Rose is smoothly blended with the patchouli and therefore nothing like you'd meet at the florist's or ~heaven forbid!~ in a toilet freshener. Think of the treatment of rose in Voleur de Roses in L'Artisan for that segment in the fragrance, a dark rose unfurling its petals under a moonless sky.
The lasting impression is patchouli with a hint of myrrh to reinforce the sweetness in Incense Oud: the longer the perfume stays on skin, the more pronounced the sweet leaves become. Of course, patchouli is to the 2000s what hair mousse was to the 1980s: there's simply no escaping it. Not that I particularly mind.

Sidonie Lancesseur had composed the oud-themed Cruel Intentions, as well as Straight to Heaven, for the brand’s introductory "L’Oeuvre Noire" series. The rest were composed by Calice Becker. Although the info on shopping sites presents Lancesseur as the creator of this scent as well, the Kilian press says that Becker is the real creator. Here she was presented ~oddly~ with the challenge of composing an oud-themed fragrance without including the essence or the synth. I seem to think there's a smidge of it there, but I could just be showing my contrarian colours!

The whys of such a decision not to advertise as it containing oud, when the name alludes otherwise, could be seen in diverging interpretations: It could be that the challenge is a plea to people's intelligence and consequently perfume aficionados' increasing cynicism: "You distrust oud as a mentioned ingredient, so here, we're offering you one which doesn't lie in its notes about what it contains or not". Or it could be interpreted differently, along the lines that since oud is the material du jour, it doesn't matter whether or not there is any included; "as long as it's mentioned in the name, people will try it and buy it". Of course I am not professing any of the two versions as truer than the other; I'm just noticing things!
Kilian offers cardamom as a featured note too (probably because the inclusion of cardamom pods are a time-honoured tradition in the preparation of delicious Arabian coffee and is too good a reference to eschew), but it's not as discernible as in Cartier's Déclaration for instance; it doesn't form a major part of the experience.
Simply put, if you like frankincense and patchouli-rose accords, you stand good chances to like Incense Oud, because it lives up to the former (being the first half of its name) and offers a polished interpretation of the later. The sillage is medium and tenacity is very good. It's a sneaky scent I found, growing on you upon consequent wearings.

Notes for Incense Oud By Kilian:
Guatemala cardamom, pink pepper, Turkish rose, Egyptian geranium, methyl pamplemousse, Virginia cedarwood, Indonesian patchouli, Indian papyrus, Somalia incense (oil and absolute), sandalwood, Macedonian oakmoss, Spanish cistus labdanum, musks.

Available in 50ml bottles for $395 (ouch!!) at Luckyscent et al. Smart tip: go for the refills for same quantity for 175$ (i.e. perfect for splitting).

Disclosure: I was sent a sample vial for reviewing purposes. Pic was sent to me by email unaccredited.

Amouage "Library Collection" Opus I, II, III: exclusive fragrance previews

Few niche fragrance lines today are as devoted to opulence as the Omani firm of Amouage founded in 1983. Rich, multi-nuanced baroque tapestries of scent, so textured you feel like you can touch them, Amouage perfumes remind us of how perfumery used to be before restrictions and leaning-tricks gave perfumery its contemporary meagre look. The three upcoming additions Opus I, Opus II and Opus III in the "Library Collection" (which we announced the other day) do not disappoint.


It is with great pleasure that I introduce them to you, writing down my impressions as I test them again and again on my skin these past few days. A few of you might get to try them out in the special preview scheduled in a couple of days (details at the bottom), the rest are urged to seek them out later on when the launch officially. They're true to form and one among them is truly surprising.


Artistic direction is everything when it comes to positioning a perfume brand: Remember Christian Astuguevieille for Comme des Garçons, Lutens for Shiseido and his own eponymous line etc. Likewise, the multi-faceted ~opera, fashion and semiotics among his studies~creative director Christopher Chong has helped Amouage gain the credibility which niche lines are (sometimes only) dreaming of: unflagging consistency, luxury, specific vision, collaboration with top perfumers. His musical background I guess is the reason why the three new Opera (or musically referenced, Opi) were thus baptized. The library standing as the capsule for keeping the creative process contained in tangible, approachable form.

Initially I was a bit sceptical when I heard of a new Collection, especially with arithmetical numbering: These days niche frag "collections" are a dime a dozen and for some weird reason everyone wants to bring out one, semi-establishing themselves as authors of a body of work at the drop of a hat. But in the case of Amouage there is already a line-up of impressive creations, thus crossing effectively that motive off the list. Still, three fragrances in one go seem like one or two would overshadow the rest. But if the Arabian-inspired house has proven anything to us, it's that more is sometimes more, after all! There is nothing minimalistic about Amouage and the new triptych will find its dedicated fans as well, walking the fine line between wearability and artistry successfully.

• Opus I is the most surprising new Amouage in the Library Collection, not from a structural point of view but one of juxtaposing two antithetical elements which miraculously fuse into one another in a case of reverse engineering. Although officially classed as a chypre, Opus I feels like a lush floral with a jarring, really great bitter bigarade top note (like traditional bitter citrus rind confit, almost Roudnitska drool-worthy) which contrasts with tuberose and dominant ylang ylang; both flowers treated into a mentholated ribbon flowing in the wind underneath a plummy accord which is round, fleshy, pudding-rich. The bitterness of bigarade and the tarry notes offsets the salicylates of the flowers, while the sweet elements (tonka, plum accord) brings out the nectarous qualities. The most pyramidal of the three, where there is a clear and distinct progression from top to heart and then slowly segueing into base.

• Opus II promised to be evocative of "old books, dark wooden shelves and antique leather armchairs" and only because I already knew that from the announcement of the new line, I purposely jumpled the samples around, as if.... Proclivities are almost hard-wired and both nature & nurture seems to conspire making me always gravitate towards such compositions. If I were to sum it up I would proclaim Opus II a spicy incense fragrance and in that field it plays seamlessly. The core of frankincense reveals a zesty freshness the way the natural resin tears have a lemony, orange-y freshness as they smoke serenely on the censer. Contrary to Opus I, which starts refreshingly bitter and turns sweeter and lush, Opus II goes for the reverse: A warm, soothing opening of rosy spice and absinth liquer (see our Series) becomes cooler and more celebral as the time passes; while the final warm sweetish remnants on skin project at a low hum like bass heard from a distance. Unquestionably my favourite, it reflects what Christopher had said: "The Amouage customer is an international traveler who has picked up antiques and items of furniture while travelling around the world and has built a home reflecting a global approach to design, but housed within an Omani-inspired space."

• Opus III is built around violets, clearly detectable from the very start, taking on nuances of both candied petals and greener, leafier verdancy with a sage-like tone. The aromatic top has a quirky nuance, with pungent, bracken and honeyed tonalities, turbidity set against a woody base. Even though violets are usually thought of as feminine and retro-glamorous, reminiscent of makeup paraphernalia, here they're treated in both directions of sweet and mainly green, rendering the finished scent suitable for both sexes. Opus III feels linear, united into one ultra-complex chord which projects with unwavering assurance.

All three fragrances in the Library Collection bear the sign of Frankincense, the emblem of the luxurious fragrance line, sensed in various degrees and they all smell full and rich, the way we're used to from the Sultanate of Oman.

The three scents in the Amouage Library Collection are extremely lasting on skin (a full 12 hours and they were still going strong!) and leaving a delicious trail behind without becoming intruding or cloying. Please refer to this post for the exact notes of each.

A sneak preview of the "Library Collection" Opus I, Opus II and Opus III will be taking place at Aedes de Venustas, 9 Christopher Street, New York on Thursday, July 1st, 2010 from 5-8pm and cocktails will be served. It's worth the trip if you're near. The sampler set is endearing, small sprayers encased in pearl white silk-lined matchboxes.

All photos by Elena Vosnaki. Click to enlarge.
Painting of The Queen's Library at St.James's Palace, from The History of the Royal Residences, engraved by Richard Reeve, by William Henry Pyne.
In the interests of full disclosure I was sent 3 preview samples by the company.

La Via del Profumo Mecca Balsam: fragrance review & bottle giveaway

O Marvel! a garden amidst the flames.
My heart has become capable of every form:
it is a pasture for gazelles and a convent for Christian monks,
and a temple for idols and the pilgrim's Kaa'ba,
and the tables of the Torah and the book of the Quran.
I follow the religion of Love: whatever way Love's camels take,
that is my religion and my faith.

~Ibn al-`Arabi, Tarjuman al-Ashwaq, in The Mystics of Islam, translated by Reynold A Nicholson


Balsamo della Mecca, or Mecca Balsam in English, is the latest all-naturals fragrance developed by perfumer Dominique Dubrana, whose nom de guerre is Abdes Salaam. It was inspired by a trip the perfumer took to Mecca during Hajj. Salaam parallels the aromata invading the streets of Mecca with a river carrying labdanum, franincense,benzoin and agarwood, and which pours to the street 5 times a day along with the pilgrims who walk up to the great mosque. Accordingly Balsamo della Mecca/Mecca Balsam contains autocthone notes of: cistus labdanum, frankincense, benzoin, agarwood, tonka bean, tobacco, Indian tuberose and Damask rose.


The olfactory landscape of Arabia and Mecca in particular is unusual for a westerner, the proflugation of scents unforgettable, the catchartic ritual requiring the lavish use of perfumes up till taking the simple white dress of Ihram... This aromatic ambience was recreated through the artistry of one of the best all-naturals illusioninsts of this world, Dominique Dubrana of La Via del Profumo, an Italian niche line which includes the esoterically-named "Scents of the Soul". Regular readers will recall how the vetiver-infused Samurai as well as the euphorically tangy neroli marvel Morning Blossom have occupied these pages in the past. This time Salaam was most generous in offering one full-size bottle of the latest fragrance to one of our readers, which I took some liberties in photographing for your enjoyement (So if you want to win, you know what to do, leave a comment!)



Comparing Mecca Balsam to other scents, one would be inclined to classify it alongside the rich ambience of Amouage oriental attars (Amouage attar Tribute isn't at all foreign to this idea) with their majestic sweep and incredible lasting power. Even though most all-naturals have a more fleeting appearence, some of these base-heavy Arabian inspired compositions, such as Mecca Balsam, anchor themselves with conviction through the marriage of resinous and balsamic touches.

Indeed Mecca Balsam feels like it is all base, all depth, all the time! Its wonderful, smoky-ambery leather core is comprised mainly of labdanum and incense (both benzoin and frankincense for the latter; interpolating warm and cool, sweet and sour respectively) and these two notes reverberate throughout the duration of the fragrance on the skin almost audibly, such is their bass & drum dynamics! Lovers of the shredded tobacco and "cola" effect (due to the synergy of tonka bean and the balsams) that hides in the heart of classic orientals such as Youth Dew, Tabu and the percursor Coty's L'Origan, or more modern interpretations such as YSL's Opium, Escada Collection and even Eau d'Italie's Paestum Rose (with its root beer vibe), will be delighted to find a replicable effect in Mecca Balsam. These would also provide great layering partners in lotion form, to traject the tracks into the night. Aficionados of the mini-cult that is Madame X by Ava Luxe will find in Mecca Balsam a luxurious upgrade using only the finest ingredients.
Even though agarwood (oud) is mentioned within the notes, its inclusion is not the -be-all-end-all of the presentation like it is with several Montale oud fragrances or indeed some of the other "ouds", such as By Kilian or Tom Ford's. Instead working its magic in the wings, it only hints at its presence, as do the precious flowers (rose and tuberose). Mecca Balsam could be worn by both sexes with ease and is sure to create both a warming, reassuring ambience around you as well as a pulling, sexy effect that won't go unnoticed.


Balsamo della Mecca/Mecca Balsam is available directly from La Via del Profumo in 16ml bottles (for €34,17) or 55ml (for €91,67) of Eau de Parfum.

This is the actual bottle that will be given to one lucky reader, courtesy of Profumo.it. State your interest in the comments! (Draw is now closed, thanks for participating).

Related reading on Perfume Shrine: Labdanum, an important material, Abdes Salaam/Profumo.it scents, Scents with leather notes, Labdanum scents and info

All photographs © by Elena Vosnaki/Perfume Shrine.

Parfum 137 Nara 1869 Bigarade, Osmanthus, Olibanum: new fragrances reviews

"Princess Asagao had sent perfumes kneaded into rather large balls in two jars, indigo and white, the former decorated with a pine branch and the latter a branch of plum. Though the cords and knots were conventional, one immediately detected the hand of a lady of taste. Inspecting the gifts and finding them admirable, the prince came upon a poem in faint ink which he softly read over to himself. 'Its blossoms fallen, the plum is of no further use. Let its fragrance sink into the sleeves of another.' " ~"The Tale of the Genji"

Parfums 137 is a fledging French niche brand which decided to base their concept on the escapism that perfume so accomodatingly offers: olfactory memory and travel so often powerfully combine, as we have many times personally attested in our "Travel Memoirs" here on Perfume Shrine. Parfums 137 decided to combine that given with the nifty ~but tentative~ alchemist that so many of us hide inside and propose a story layered in 3 different scents which could be mixed and matched, ending up in up to 7 different combinations, so as to produce a unique result each time, however the mood strikes. Hence the subtitle Jeux de Parfums (Perfumes Game). The even niftier touch however is that you could probably use each one of them to layer under other fragrances which you already own, but I will leave this further experimentation to your fertile imagination!

According to the press release with Nara 1869 we're taken on a fictional journey whereupon, a perfumer named Akimoff, was sent by the house of Violet to scout raw materials in mystical Japan on the year 1869. He met a Venitian photographer, Felice Beato, who introduced him to the traditional ceremony Kôdô/Kou-dou, in which participants are asked to recognize essences. The Umegae Chapter (A Branch of Plum) in "The Tale of the Genji" speaks of Incense Making contests, and incense kneaded with honey which form integral part in Kou-dou. It therefore comes as little surprise that it was banned during the later Meiji period because it had become a popular gambling pastime! Still the ceremony is mystifying: The players start with rice chaff ash (kouro-bai), stirred so as to allow for air circulation and placing the hot charcoal on a hole in the center of the censer cup, over which an ash pattern is created (Shin-kouro, Gyou-kouro and Sou-kouro). A vent is pierced and over it a mica plate (Gin-you) is placed where the incense (Kou boku) is finally placed to burn.

Here is a delightful passage from The Tale of the Genji:

"The time had come to review the perfumes. "It should be on a rainy evening," said Genji. "And you shall judge them. Who if not you?" He had censers brought in. A most marvelous display was ranged before the prince, for the ladies were determined that their manufactures be presented to the very best advantage. "I am hardly the one who knows," said the prince. He went over them very carefully, finding this and that delicate flaw, for the finest perfumes are sometimes just a shade too insistent or too bland. Genji sent for the two perfumes of his own compounding. It being in the old court tradition to bury perfumes beside the guardsmen's stream, he had buried them near the stream that flowed between the main hall and the west wing. He dispatched Koremitsu's son, now a councillor, to dig them up. Yu~giri brought them in. "You have assigned me a most difficult task," said the prince. "I fear that my judgment may be a bit smoky." The same tradition had in several fashions made its way down to the several contestants. Each had added ingeniously original touches. The prince was faced with many interesting and delicate problems. Despite Asagao's self-deprecatory poem, her "dark" winter incense was judged the best, somehow gentler and yet deeper than the others. The prince decided that among the autumn scents, the "chamberlain's per- fumes," as they are called, Genji's had an intimacy which however did not insist upon itself. Of Murasaki's three, the plum or spring perfume was especially bright and original, with a tartness that was rather daring. "Nothing goes better with a spring breeze than a plum blossom," said the prince.
Observing the competition from her summer quarter, the lady of the orange blossoms was characteristically reticent, as inconspicuous as a wisp of smoke from a censer. She finally submitted a single perfume, a summer lotus-leaf blend with a pungency that was gentle but firm. In the winter quarter the Akashi lady had as little confidence that she could hold her own in such competition. She finally submitted a "hundred pace" sachet from an adaptation of Minamoto Kintada's formula by the earlier Suzaku emperor, of very great delicacy and refinement. The prince announced that each of the perfumes was obviously the result of careful thought and that each had much to recommend it".

Parfums 137 place Akimoff under the charm of a young geisha on Dec 7th 1869 & subsequently want him to create 3 perfumes based on his experiences of Kodo. Alexandre Bigle, the founder of Parfums 137 came up with the idea of creating a coffret that would incorporate interpretations of these scents and commissioned the trio to nose Isabelle Maillebiau (of Drom Fragrances).

Out of the Nara 1869 triumvirate, Olibanum easily won me over with its nuanced ambience of warmth and cool that raises up into the air in serene tulips of smoke, more Far Eastern Boudhist temples than Orthodox or Catholic crypts.
In Osmanthus the characteristic apricote-suede facets of the natural flower are subtler than in other renditions, with the "sanitised" patchouli of neo-chypres emerging as an underpinning that gives it a disctinctly modern edge. I am reminded of floral woodies such as Coco Mademoiselle or Midnight Poison and their ilk which tells me it will be tremendously popular.
Bigarade is dominated by the heavenly smell of citrus aurantia, or bigaradier; the Seville bitter orange tree that flanks the streets of the Spanish city, and which produces neroli via steam distillation of its leaves and twigs. Here, neroli is fused with the lightly warm, sweetish effluvium of smooth, clean musk, offering another interpretation of the formula that accounts for the tangier and cooler Eau d'Orange Verte.
Personally I thought that the combination of Bigarade and Olibanum complimented one another best, the citrusy facets of one echoeing the tangier facets of the other, but numerous combinations can be tried.

Notes for Parfums 137 Nara 1869:
Bigarade: notes of citruses, white tea blossoms, musk, woods.
Osmanthus: notes of peaches and abricot together with florals and patchouli.
Olibanum: fresh, spicy, an ode to incense with notes of myrrh and patchouli.

Nara 1869 comes in three 15ml/0.5oz sprayers in an illustrated coffret with booklet for 60 Euros and although unavailable in the US, it can be purchased on the official site.

Parfums 137 has also introduced a coffret named Stromboli 1950, comprised of the scents of Spearmint, Myrte and Immortelle (very Med, all of them!) which personally reminds me of the fiesty Roberto Rosellini and Ingrid Bergman affair on that fateful Italian volcanic landscape, but I guess you will have to find out more for yourselves on the official site for Parfums 137 where they also offer samples.

Pics via taiko.be and nipponkodo.com