Neela Vermeire Creations Mohur Extrait: fragrance review & draw

Mohur Eau de Parfum by Neela Vermeire Creations preceded the Extrait de Parfum version of this India-inspired rose fragrance for men and women; in fact the extract only launched last spring. But the perfume extract (extract de parfum) brings into highlight the richest in noble essences arranged in a manner that highlights their pedigree; comparing the two is like juxtaposing the silky hair of a Persian domestic cat compared to the majestic plush of the strapping Shere Khan. Mohur extrait is something of a diva! As if Mohur eau de parfum wasn't already queenly enough….but you can imagine the added magisterial effect, right?  {And now that your appetite is whetted there is a lucky draw for great Neela Vermeire Creations prizes at the end of the post, so be sure to read to the bottom!}

Rose is a fascinating, as much as a polarizing, perfume raw material due to two main reasons. For one, the natural extract can vary wildly according to the variety of rose variant used (the tea rose for instance possesses a completely different scent than that of the fruity, berry-plummy Munstead Wood), the cultivar and region (Rosa Damascena, traditionally coming from Bulgaria, is heavier and deeper than May Rose, traditionally coming from Grasse, though there are also Turkish, Moroccan and roses hailing from other regions) and the details of the method of extraction (different metals contribute their own little nuances in the end product etc). For another, rose by itself is an interesting, multi-layered oil, exhibiting facets of liqueur, wine, even pear or artichoke! Composing a fragrance based on the "Queen of flowers", as rose is affectionately named (jasmine is the King), isn't easy. This is also why most of the time there is very little, if any, natural rose essence, in perfumes. Constructing a rose bouquet with synthetics is far more elegant, in the mathematical sense of the world, allowing a precise calibration of the effect minus any distraction of off notes.

Rose is also a fragrance note that needs getting some conditioning to. At least for me it did and I know I'm not alone. Rose scents can appear too old-fashioned for their own good sometimes (not old fashioned in the glamorous vintage sense of out-of-the-mold perfumes which dare to walk on stilts, towering over everyone else, but "grannyish" sorry to say). Nevertheless everything old is new again and rose is making a comeback in perfumery as a focal note (it never went away from the secret core of most feminine fragrances anyway). Luckily for me, Neela Vermeire Creations scored Bingo with their Mohur Eau de Parfum, which manages to smell at once contemporary and nostalgic, rich in second-hand reminiscences scaterred atop its jammy, lightly powdery rose dessert from Rajastan.

It's a perfume which accompanies my softest thoughts. Now the Mohur Extrait de Parfum, rich in rose absolute, comes as the culmination of the succulence, tempting and caressing with the intensity of its purple color of the flacon; at once cool and warm, like the color purple unites the fieriness of red with the calm of blue, regal, ceremonial and mystical with its association to the Crown Chakra. Honeyed facets of the rose are folded into a batter of powdery materials (the vegetal, subdued muskiness of ambrette seeds and the iris effect of carrot seed essence) while the sandalwood note takes on creamy qualities, deftly incorporated into this rosewater-flavored barfi by Neela Vermeire Creations perfumer in charge Bertrand Duchaufour (who also gave us another rose-dusted Ottoman-palatial-leaning phantasmagoria in Traversee du Bosphore for L'Artisan Parfumeur). Although the formula for the two is the same, the Mohur extrait is overall sweeter and rather more gourmand-smelling, with less of the aldehydic top notes of the Eau de Parfum, and while I think that the eau de parfum is personally speaking a very wearable incarnation thanks to its very drape-y softness which floats around me like a golden sari, I can't deny the exquisiteness of Mohur in pure perfume. If you can afford bringing so much beauty into your everyday life without keeling over, by all means, there's no point in searching beyond this masterpiece.

Mohur (in eau de parfum and extract de parfum versions) is part of the niche fragrances issued by Neela Vermeire Créations which also includes Trayee, Bombay Bling and Ashoka. These Indian inspired perfumes, like Chants of India, draw upon the tradition, history and cultural milieu of that vast Eastern sub-continent in which Neela herself has roots. These are truly "transparent orientals", modern and wearable, and therefore it comes as no surprise that Neela commissioned Bertrand Duchaufour to compose them for her niche line. Her e-boutique can be accessed on this link.

I have 2 great prizes for 2 winners (shipping to US, EU and Canada):
Prize 1 is a 8ml spray bottle of Mohur extrait with ceramic logo disk (depicted)
Prize 2 is a Sampler coffret (2ml x 4 scents) of the 4 eaux de parfum Trayee, Mohur, Bombay Bling and Ashoka (depicted) plus Mohur extrait sample with ceramic logo disk

What you need to do:
1. Leave a comment below in this review (about the NVC scents, the review itself, roses & scents etc...)
2. Please like Neela Vermeire Creations FB page or follow her NVC Twitter handle (whichever you have is fine). 

Draw is open till Friday midnight and winners will be announced sometime during the weekend.

NB disclosure: The review/draw requirements/links are non affiliated. I was sent a sample vial by the company for reviewing purposes.


Related reading on Perfume Shrine: 
A Dozen Roses: Top Selection of Rose Fragrances & Rose-Smelling Products
Fragrance Reviews of Perfumes with Rose notes 
Neela Vermeire Creations Perfume Reviews 

Penhaligon's Vaara: fragrance review & free perfume atomiser giveaway

Had I been blindfolded while testing the latest Penhaligon's fragrance, Vaara, I would have immediately proclaimed "Bertrand Duchaufour" upon released and that wouldn't be in some erotic rapture 50 Shades of Grey perfume style, but in familiar recognition of the perfumer's patte all over the perfume. Is this a bad thing? Read on please, dear reader.

Duchaufour, like Jean Claude Ellena, moves his accords and ideas around, exploring them, revisiting, pushing them to their natural and unnatural limits all the time; on one level, the hallmark of a true artist. Whereas Ellena has the luxury of doing it within the context of one company, since his in-house tenure at Hermès, Duchaufour seems at the flummox of some orgasmic productivity; to map out the sheer volume of the man's creations in the last 5 years alone would take a considerable effort worthy of an ultra-conscientious librarian. And whereas some of them are questionable in their repercussions, the end result is usually what we perfume aficionados refer to -favorably- as a "transparent oriental perfume", namely a composition that can't be faulted for being too thick or dense to be wearable under the most casual of moods, nor the most refined of occasions.

Vaara by Penhaligon's is one such thing, a very deftly aerated meringue of a scent, uniting a lightly gourmand scent impression with rose, like a loukoum nugget. A moutwatering effect which has prompted originaldeftdom on Fragrantica to liken Duchaufour to Heston Blumenthal. Of course Duchaufour is no stranger to this alliance of true minds: rose and saffron is a classic Middle-Eastern and Indian combination (rose is making a comeback as a perfume note of late anyway) and the well-known perfumer has explored the lightly suede/leather-smelling facets of the precious stamens when used with rose in both Traversée du Bosphore for L'Artisan Parfumeur as well as in Mohur by Neela Vermeire Creations previously. (It is important to note that this is an interpretation far removed from the mossy-chypre and more aggressive Agent Provocateur eau de parfum which also explores the accord of saffron & rose).
Indeed many of the official notes are, if not the same, then quite close in all three compositions by the sleight-handed Bertrand (for instance the carrot seed note, referenced in Mohur too reflects the iris, ambrette is a kind of musk, the edible, lightly fruity çay note from Traversée gets a quince jelly treatment here, quince being close to apple and so on...). At least the geographical direction points the compass consistently to the East; near or far, it doesn't matter much to the Parisian and the Londoner who flock to buy Duchaufour's creations. Of course the press release goes on and on about the travels that Duchaufour has gone to, to get inspired by India in all its glory. (At this rate, he must know the area like the palm of his hand by now!)

the quirky Bertrand and the suave Maharaja (don't you just love the turquoise jacket)

The name Vaara means both "blessing" and "breeze" and stands for the granddaughter of His Highness Maharaja Gaj Singh II; the perfume was commissioned to celebrate her birth and the family’s love for the city of Jodhpur and was inspired by the Royal House of Marwar-Jodhpur in Rajasthan, India. For the launch, earlier in July, the Penhaligon's boutique in London was filled with images of Jodpur to mirror the chronology of the journey, the fragrance profiling room turned into a Rajasthani spice market with drawings from perfumer Bertrand Duchaufour’s notebook, photos taken at the market and the raw ingredients of Vaara.

The quince and coriander are the dominant allies to the rose-saffron accord in Penhaligion's Vaara scent and enhance it without drowning it. The lightly sweetish message after the top note has dissipated, warm and skin-scent-like is quite delicious with no screech from the flower notes (peony and freesia, two synthetically recreated "notes" are often a culprit).

Vaara despite the repetition of themes and the cliché exotic promo isn't just bon pour l'Orient. It's bon, period.

Notes for Vaara by Penhaligon's:
Top: quince, rose water, carrot seeds, coriander seed and saffron.
Heart: Moroccan rose absolute, Bulgarian rose oil, freesia, Indian magnolia, iris and peony
Base: honey, white musk, cedarwood, sandalwood, benzoin resin and tonka bean.

Available at Penhaligon's boutiques and online at 85 GBP for 50ml/1.7oz of Eau de Parfum, 120 GBP for 100ml/3.4oz.

  For our readers, I have a generous and sleek travel atomiser of Penhaligon's Vaara for one lucky winner. Draw is open internationally till Friday 27th midnight. Winner to be announced in the weekend. Enter a comment to be eligible.

Related reading on Perfume Shrine: Leather scents, Best Rose fragrances & scented delights, Bertrand Duchaufour perfumes.

In the interests of disclosure, I was sent the sample for reviewing purposes by the company.

Vetiver Series: 2.the Fascinating Material

Vetiver is one of those materials of perfumery that has a particularly interesting background, not least because of its exotic lineage from the Indian peninsula and the fact that the aromatic substance is derived from its rhizomes, making fragrances focused on it a sort of soliradix (in accordance to the term soliflore for fragrances focusing on one flower). Its stems are tall and the leaves are long, thin and rather rigid, while the flowers are brownish purple, but the aroma comes from the roots much like another fascinating material: iris!
Perhaps the most charming, intelligent and arresting characteristic of vetiver though is its ability to thus absorb the very essence of the soil it's been growing into, giving a vetiver adventurer a tour of exotic locales at the sniff of its deep, inviting breath.

Vetiver (Chrysopogon zizanioides) is technically a perennial grass of the Poaceae family native to India. The name vetiver/vettiveru comes from Tamil, in which vetti means cut and veru means root. In western and Northern India, it is more commonly known as khus, which resulted in the English names cuscus, cuss cuss, kuss-kuss grass, etc. In perfumery we often see the older French spelling vetyver used.

Often vetiver grass is referred to as an engineer's or architect's wet dream because of its ability grow up to 1.5 meters high and form clumps as wide, but unlike most grasses (which form horizontally spreading mat-like root systems), vetiver's roots grow downward up to 2-4 meters in depth making it an excellent tool in controling erosion; useful in both agriculture (rice paddies) and terrestrial management (stream banks), especially in tropical climates suffering from monsoons.

Vetiver is closely related to other fragrant grasses such as Lemon Grass (Cymbopogon citratus), citronella (Cymbopogon nardus, C. winterianus) and Palmarosa (Cymbopogon martinii), which is in some respect the reason why it is sometimes considered a leafy/green or woody note, despite it being an earthy/rooty substance.
The world's major producers include Haiti, India, Java, and Réunion. However each soil plays a subtle part in influencing the smell of the oil yielded, so it is an interesting exercise to get hold of different batches and comparing. Some varieties are earthy or smokey, such as the Indian or Javenese batches. These can have a slightly yeasty touch that might take some getting used to. Others are more traditionally woody, with none of the earthy smell we usually associate with vetiver (especially the Sri Lankan variety). And a couple are even considered "green", such as the Haitian Vetiver which has a cleaner, grassier (pine needles) to the edge of citrusy and lightly floral (rosy geranium); same with the oil from Réunion. Both of these are considered of superior quality to the Javanese. China, Brazil and Japan also produce vetiver aromatic products, but I haven't been able to sample those, nevertheless I am determined to do so in the future.
There is also a special variety produced in the north of India which is termed khus/ruh khus or khas and is distilled from wild-growing vetiver. It is untypically blueish green in shade due to its being distilled in copper cauldrons, the traditional way. The oxidation lends a metallic aroma besides the colour, making it unique. Considered superior to the oil obtained from the cultivated variety, it is unfortunately seldom found outside of India, because most of it is consumed within the country.

The essential oil of vetiver produced is darkish brown and rather thick, viscuous. Smelling vetiver oil you are faced with a deep, earthy, herbaceous and balsamic odour which has smokey and sweet nuances with a dark chocolatey edge to it.
Vetiver can be used to render a woody, earthy tone to flowers providing depth, tenacity and "opening" of their bouquet but it can also be used to admirable results in chypres for its herbaceous/earthy vibe (especially now that oakmoss use has been lowered), in orientals for its interesting balsamic-chocolatey nuances and in incenses or citrus colognes to provide a counterpoint of woodiness.
It's so intense on its own that vetiver compositions are usually solo arrangements, rather than full symphonies, which explains why so often Vetiver fragrances are called with one part of their name just that. Like Luca Turin pointed out, comparing it to the treatment of cacao in culinary explorations:

"The perfumer has two options: retreat and declare victory, i.e. add a touch of lavender and call the result Vetiver (black chocolate); Or earn his keep and compose full-score for bass clarinet and orchestra (Milka with nuts and raisins)".

Vetiver oil or khus oil is a complex natural amalgam that contains over 100 identified components. Typical make up includes:
benzoic acid
furfurol
vetivene
vetivenyl vetivenate
terpinen-4-ol
5-epiprezizane
Khusimene
α-muurolene
Khusimone
Calacorene
β-humulene
α-longipinene
γ-selinene
δ-selinene
δ-cadinene
valencene
Calarene,-gurjunene
α-amorphene
Epizizanal
3-epizizanol
Khusimol
Iso-khusimol
Valerenol
β-vetivone
α-vetivone

For ease of reference though, the main constituents are: Benzoic acid, vetiverol, furfurol, a-vetivone, B-vetivone, vetivene, vetivenyl vetivenate.
[Source: E. Guenther, The Essential Oils Vol. 4 (New York: Van Nostrand Company INC, 1990), 178-181, cited in Salvatore Battaglia, The Complete Guide to Aromatherapy (Australia: The Perfect Potion, 1997), 205.]

The production of the vetiver oil goes like this:
The best quality oil is obtained from roots that are 18 to 24 months old. The rhizomes are dug up and cleaned, then dried. Before the distillation, the roots are chopped and soaked in water awaiting for the distillation, a procedure that takes 18 to 24 hours. Afterwards the distillate separates into the essential oil and hydrosol, the oil is skimmed off and allowed to age for a few months to allow some undesirable notes which form during the distillation to dissipate. The yield is high making vetiver an economic building block, which explains its popularity in fragrance making. Additionally, the fact that nothing smells like the real thing yet, assures us of its continued popularity versus aromachemical alternatives for the time being; no mean feat in our times. Like patchouli and sandalwood essential oils, vetiver greatly matures with aging, becoming less yeasty-musty and more pleasantly balsamic, becoming a fascinating note.

Vetiver's exciting history and representation in perfumery will be the subject of the third part in our Vetiver Series.

References:
Julie Lawless, The Encyclopedia of Essential Oils
Mandy Aftel Essence and Alchemy
Christopher McMahon from White Lotus Aromatics, Ruh Khus (Wild Vetiver Oil)/Oil of Tranquility
Vetiver.org
Germplasm Resources

Pic of vetiver grass courtesy of vetiver.org

Un Jardin Apres la Mousson by Hermes: fragrance review

Visiting the Hermès boutique, at which an appointment was made for olfactory appreciation purposes, is a reward in itself. The new summer collection has arrived, in maroquinerie and silk accessories as well as clothes, all in vivid, shocking pinks of India, warm apricots and light greens with themes of elephants and mangoes. And among those the newest fragrance, Un Jardin Après La Mousson (a garden after the monsoon).

This is the latest to join the Jardin trio in the house's more approachable series, which finds itself one regular step behind the grand feminines and masculines and a full rumba step behind the Hermessences. After Un Jardin en Mediteranée, inspired by the Mediterranean and focusing on bittersweet figs and Un Jardin sur le Nil, which focused on green mango (and coming off as grapefruit on a bed of wood shaves), Un Jardin Après La Mousson takes the surprising fruity note of cantaloupe as the thesis for a little summery dance around it, with a sideways wink to Le Parfum de Thérèse in the F.Malle lineup.

Calone, the uber-marine synthetic, is often anathema for myriads of perfume lovers who have declared war on it. Ellena wanted to create a water accord, farther from the usual marine note: I admit I am among the legion who hate Calone and am wondering why it seems like it sneaked its way into a composition that is proclaiming itself a vegetal-spicy. Regarding the latter part, pepper is the protagonist among the spices with its short-wave of coolness, reminiscent of the accord created for Poivre Samarkand. Vetiver in turn disrobes of its earthy, pungent character in a molecular reconstruction by Ellena which sheds the layers of dirty to leave behind a proper and "clean" note that is more like a fabric softener or a good after-shave cream than the viscous essential oil. There is the vegetal theme explored in Kelly Calèche and the mineral aspect of Terre d'Hermès, which combined might appear as laziness, but I suspect is Ellena's way of showing conviction and homogeneity in what he does for the brand.

In the article titled Liquid Assets by Phoebe Eaton for The New York Times, choke full of beautiful pictures, the journey of Jean Claude Ellena to Kerala, India (the cornerstone in the spice market) in a quest for inspiration is recounted for our benefit. Staying at the Kumarakom Lake Resort on the shores of Vembanad Lake in February, Ellena profited from a sojourn in the tropics. And it would be wicked to suggest he goes for such ideas for the chance to do so.

Observation: Jean Claude, despite his identity card and citizenship, doesn't look French. He doesn't dress French. More importantly he doesn't compose perfumes in the French tradition. Instead, he looks Italian (which he is in part) or Greek (which I'd like to think he is judging by his name) and his whole outlook on life and art seems focused in the sparsity and translucence of style that is embedded in the classical tradition of those two cultures. He accepts ornamentation when it serves functionality or innovation, but not otherwise. Like an architect who shuns Caryatids when they don't actually support something or a couturier who abhors brooches which don't hold a dress in place.

He also seems to compose for the particular micro-climate of those two countries, as the rising temperatures of late spring and summer are especially simpatico to the cooling feel of his Jardins, but also Hermessences series. Those scents act as portable air-conditioning around a person, giving an effect of dry cool without the fizzy banalité of sodas perpetuated by the pink fruity florals on the market. I predict his latest offering will sell well in warmer countries which are however removed from the tradition of opulence.

To judge his latest offering we should question ourselves:
Is he loyal to his vision? He assuredly is. He is honing his style, stretching it to its maximum extremities, trying to ascertain that upon sniffing people will exclaim "Mais, c'est un Ellena!" the way they would do it for a Picasso or a Pollock. And incidentally always subtracting, just as they did. He goes for abstraction, not realism.
Is he faithful to Kerala, India? Not particularly, and maybe the fact that the fragrance got promoted in that way leaves something to be desired in the perfume-lover's stakes, much like the leather tag did for Kelly Caleche. It's usually unthinkable to do India without copious amounts of spice and orientalised compositions, although Patou with his Sira des Indes went for the novel approach succesfully with his banana-laced fruity a while ago.
Is he loyal to the Hermès style? This is the trickiest question of the three. Hermès has gone through a dramatic shift in image by hiring Ellena. The older fragrances exuded a luxurious feel of an upscale, very expensive boutique for the elite with the inclusion of precious materials and the honeyed scents of perceived affluence. That image was luxe but also a tad stuffy, prim, too bon chic bon genre and thus ultimately a cliché. The new direction of luxury demands airier scents, ingredients that look humble but perform on a higher level than their constituents (a reconstructed "clean" vetiver for Mousson, a mineral accord for brilliant Terre d'Hermès, a floral-smelling suede note for Kelly Calèche) which, like the recent trend in gastronomy that put back humble rocket on our tables after what seemed like decades, dubs you as not trying too hard. And proper chic, the chic that Hermès is obviously aiming at, is never trying too hard.

In those terms, Un Jardin Après la Mousson is succesful for what it set out to do. Whether it would be my first choice for personal fragrance is seriously debatable. Un Jardin sur le Nil proved to be so lovable and so suited to my summer sensibilities that I am not considering to replace it with the new one. I don't see a void in my collection, to be honest. But I wouldn't resort to aphorisms either!

The fragrance is completely unisex and marketed as such. It performs much better on skin than on the mouillette (blotter) where it loses much of its piquancy. It is rather fleeting however, in comparison to the other Jardins who hold their own well, and might stay put longer if you spray fabric, on which it also performs well.
The complimentary body products (body mist without alcohol: 42euros for 100ml, body lotion: 39euros for 200ml, shower gel: 33euros for 200ml ~and the two limited edition products dry oil: 40euros for 100ml and body mist without alcohol: 42euros for 100ml) are luxurious, though less scented than the Eau de toilette. The latter is presented in a gorgeous bottle which has a degradé of shades from the cap down, from light green to vivid blue and the box illustrations are simply adorable.

Notes: cardamom, coriander, pepper, ginger, Kahili ginger flower (not related to ginger root), vetiver.

Available at the Hermès Boutique US and France, the physical Hermès boutiques, at Saks and soon in department stores worldwide.
Eau de toilette: 83 euros for 100ml

And if you have a few minutes to spare in fun, click here.

Pic via Hermes, boxes courtesy of the Purseblog.com

Jasmine Series: part 1~ genus, varieties and production

In the universe of flowers used for their fine precious scent used in luxe perfume, no other blossom stands alone as ubiquitous as jasmine, with the possible exception of rose. Indeed those two grace most perfumes’ heart bouquet as the classic marriage of true minds. And although they are distinctly different in character they sing to each other in mellifluous tunes that enrapture and entice.
Yet which jasmine blooms are harvested, how and what do they offer to the final result?
The Perfume Shrine Jasmine Series attempts to shed some light on these aspects.

First of all, jasmine (latin: Jasminum), native to warm and tropical parts of the world, is a genus of shrubs and vines that belong in the family Oleceae (olive) and it comprises about 200 species. As a plant that has so many varieties some misunderstanding around its names and properties is evident. Although all plants named jasmine, (wrongly or truthfully) bear white little blossom of a fragrant nature, numerous among them are not jasmine but closely resemble the classic flower appearance and fragrance.
According to mgonline.com/jasmine, these are the varieties that are commonly called "jasmine":

Jasmine Asiatic - Trachelospermum asiaticum
Jasmine Carolina - Gelsemium sempervirens
Jasmine Chalcas - Murraya paniculata
Jasmine Confederate - Trachelospermum jasminoides
Jasmine Crape - Trachelospermum divaricata
Jasmine Downy - Jasminum multiflorum
Jasmine Gracillimum
Jasmine Lakeview - Murraya paniculata 'Lakeview'
Jasmine Minima - Trachelospermum asiaticum 'Minima'
Jasmine Night Blooming - Murraya paniculata
Jasmine Pink - Jasminum polyanthum
Jasmine Pinwheel - Tabernaemontana
Jasmine Primrose - Jasminium mesnyl
Jasmine Rex - Royal Jasmine
Jasmine Shining - Jasminium nitidum
Jasmine Star - Trachelospermum jasminoides 'Star'
Jasmine Wax - Jasminum volubile
Jasmine Winter - Jasminum nudiforum
Jasminum floridum
Jasminum illicifolium
Jasminum pubescens
Jasminum sambac - Arabian Jasmine
Jasminum sambac - 'Grand Duke of Tuscany'
Jasminum sambac - 'Maid of Orleans'
Jasmin sambac 'Triple' (bloom)
Jasminum simplicifolium - Jasminum volubile
Jasminum x stephanense
Jasminum undalatum

Edited to add: It has been brought to my attention by the perfumer Anya McCoy that the above link might be a bit off. Cestrum nocturnum is the latin name of night blooming jasmine and Murraya panicaulata is also called Orange jasmine (because the blossoms resemble those of bitter orange tree ones). In addition Belle of India is another important variety which they omitted.
Many thanks A!

In perfumery, however, there are two main varieties used: Jasminum grandiflorum and Jasminum sambac.

The name jasmine itself derives from the arab yâsamîn, which is in turn taken from the Persian. It is also the origin of the feminine Arabian name Yasmine/Yasmina. It seems that this is a very ancient shrub that was highly prized since antiquity. In Indian texts occupying themselves with Kâma (=love; from the eponymous deity that symbolizes carnal love) jasmine is considered the flower of love and it is also said that Cleopatra came to meet Marc Antony on a barge whose sails were anointed with jasmine. Even today in French culture the 66 years of marriage are symbolized by jasmine flowers. So romantic….The French have even baptized an underground station (metro) with this name, those rascals!

The main locations where jasmine is grown today are India -especially around Ghazimpur-, southern Europe and China. The origin of all jasmine is said to be Kashmir, a disputed area between Iran and India.

Jasminum sambac (or Arabian Jasmine) flowers belong to a night-blooming breed and are also used -in the Maid of Orleans variety only (edit: this tidbit was mentioned to me by Anya McCoy)- to make chinese tea, which typically has a base of green tea, although an Oolong base is also known to be used. The delicate Jasmine flowers, grown widely in southern China, open only at night and they have to be plucked in the morning when the tiny petals are tightly closed. They are then stored in a cool place until the following night. As the temperature cools, the petals begin to open. They are left in trays where they emit their scent. Flowers and tea are "mated" in machines that control temperature and humidity. It takes four hours or so for the tea to absorb the fragrance and flavour of the Jasmine blossoms. And for the highest grades of tea, this process may be repeated up to seven times! Real jasmine tea should have all of the fragrance of the flower, but no trace of the flower itself.
Sambac is also the National Flower of Indonesia, where it grows in abundance going by the name of "Melati", and also of the Philippines, known as "Sambaquita". In Indonesia (especially Java), it is the traditional flower in wedding ceremonies for natives.
To add to the confusion in Hawaiian it is also common to refer to this variety as "Pikake", especially so for the more bulby blossoms that are used in leis.
Jasminum officinale (white jasmine or ye-hsi-ming in China) is the national flower of Pakistan, locally called "Chameli" or "Yasmine". In Sanskrit it is called Mallika. It is cultivated at Pangala, in Karnataka, India, and exported to Middle East countries.

Jasminum Grandiflorum, also known as “Royal” or “Spanish jasmine” , although it grows all over warmer regions of Europe as a perennial fragrant vine of intoxicating blooms, has its origin most probably in India from where it came into Europe. The Indian name for it is Jati from Sanskrit; which is a bit confusing as it also refers to the Sambac variety; so for our purposes we are going to use the latin terms for ease of reference. It is worthy of note that no less than 42 varieties of jasmine are cultivated in India!
It is admittedly the most widely used in perfumery.
Grandiflorum became the predominant culture of jasmine in Grasse, French capital of perfumery, even as far back as the 18th century. The crops is gathered in the month of August, before the break of dawn almost, so as to retain the most of the dewy petals and their fragrant emissions, while the whole process has to be performed delicately and quickly, before the little blossoms wield to the heat. It is so precious and expensive because in order to produce 1 kilo of essence 7 million flowers are estimated to be needed.

It is said that 10 600 flowers go into the production of 1oz of Patou’s Joy perfume, by perfumer Henri Almeras, so its tagline of “costliest perfume in the world”, introduced in the 30’s is not as much a myth as might have been surmised. Unfortunately today the Grasse jasmine is rarely used, although Patou still maintains that they employ it in the classic formulation for Joy and 1000. For Chanel perfumes, athough the company still maintains their own fields of jasmine (as well as tuberose) in Grasse, the precious essence only lurks in the parfum /extrait concentration, leaving the eau de toilette and eau de parfum ones a bit lacking. Guerlain used Grasse jasmine in their classics L’Heure Bleue, Mitsouko, Après l'Ondée, and Shalimar parfum, but it doesn’t seem to be the case anymore. Autres temps, autres moeurs!
Now about 4/5 of the fragrance production utilizes jasmine crops from India, Morocco, Egypt and Italy.

Comparing the two varieties, we see that the flowers of Jasminum Grandiflorum have larger and wider petals with a slight tint of red “veins” on the outside compared to those of Sambac, which are more bulb-like with more pointy ends.
Photo of Jasminum Grandiflorum can be seen clicking here.
Photos of Jasminum Sambac can be seen clicking here.

The fragrance is also a little different: Sambac is a little sharper, while Grandiflorum has a more full-bodied tonality, opulent and richer, yet with a fruity freshness accounting for differences in the end result in fragrances. Sambac on the other hand is higher in indoles, which is essential for it to be pollinated in the night and thus the fragrances that contain it may appear more animalic or heady.

Jasmine, the king of flowers, is considered by aroma therapists to be a herbal remedy, used as a sedative, antidepressant or an emollient. It is also considered a powerful aphrodisiac. The flowers and the essential oil are used in herbal preparations, but they are not to be ingested.
The main consitutent of jasmine are benzyl acetate and linalool, which are considered possibly allergenic in internal consumption, that’s why.
To obtain jasmine essence from the little blossoms, the enfleurage method is necessary. Distillation is not delicate enough for the sensitive little flowers.

According to essential oils.co.za:

"It requires flowers to be hand picked and layered over a glass frame coated with a mixture of animal fats. Glass plates in a frame (called a chassis) are covered with highly purified and odorless vegetable or animal fat and the petals of the botanical matter that are being extracted are spread across it and pressed in. The flowers are normally freshly picked before so encased in their fatty bed.
The petals remain in this greasy compound for a few days to allow the essence to disperse into the compound, where the then depleted petals are removed and replaced with a fresh harvest of petals.
This process is repeated until the greasy mix is saturated with the essence, and needs to be repeated a couple of times until saturation is achieved.
When the mix has reached saturation point the flowers are removed and the enfleurage pomade - the fat and fragrant oil - then washed with alcohol to separate the extract from the remaining fat, which is then used to make soap.
As soon as the alcohol evaporates from the mixture you are left with the essential oil. This is a very labor-intensive way of extraction, and needless to say a very costly way to obtain essential oil and is nowadays only sometimes used to extract essential oil from tuberoses and jasmine. The essential oils is separated from the fat through a process not unlike a solvent extraction, using ethyl alcohol."

According to Wikipedia, there are actually two seprate methods of enfelurage ~cold and hot:

“In cold enfleurage, a large framed plate of glass, called a chassis, is smeared with a layer of animal fat, usually from pork or beef, and allowed to set. Botanical matter, usually petals or whole flowers, are then placed on the fat and their scent is allowed to diffuse into the fat over the course of 1-3 days. The process is then repeated by replacing the spent botanicals with fresh ones until the fat has reached a desired degree of fragrance saturation. In hot enfleurage, solid fats are heated and botanical matter is stirred into the fat. Spent botanicals are repeatedly strained from the fat and replaced with fresh material until the fat is saturated with fragrance.

In both instances, the fragrance-saturated fat is now called the "enfleurage pomade". The enfleurage pomade is washed or soaked in ethyl alcohol to draw the fragrant molecules into the alcohol. The alcohol is then separated from the fat and allowed to evaporate, leaving behind the essential oil of the botanical matter. The spent fat is usually used to make soaps since it is still relatively fragrant.”

Today synthetic jasmine is easily produced and preferred due to the extreme cost of enfleurage and hedione is one of the most usual ingredients in substitution of real jasmine essence, a synthetic that smells of the greener, fresher part of jasmine; however in quality perfumes some real jasmine absolute is added to remove the harshness.
As a final note, although jasmine notes and perfumes are usually considered heady and animalic in the universe of perfumery, actual perfumes that are considered thus are a tad further from the flower. Someone saying that a "clean" jasmine scent does not posess a "true" jasmine quality sometimes denotes that one is not acquainted with the flower itself. A "true" jasmine scent would be cleaner, lighter or fresher than most of them. It is the enfleurage method that produces headier scents and it has to do with the inevitable decay that happens during the process, that allows much more of the indolic character of the flower to surface, a fact that is not as predominant when the flower is on the vine.

Next part coming soon.....

Pic of jasmine courtesy of mgonline.com
Pic of Joy bottle from Patou site.