Ormonde Jayne Perfumery opens at Fortnum & Mason

We're delighted to be the ones introducing the good news:

Ormonde Jayne Perfumery is delighted to launch its fourth point of sale in London at Fortnum & Mason in Piccadilly from this Monday 12 September. Fortnum & Mason will stock Ormonde Jayne’s Bathing range (including Osmanthus Soap Bar & Dish), Scented Candles and a new exclusive Trilogy of Extrait de Parfum (pure parfum) (the set includes Tiare, Tolu & Ta’if) on the second floor.
Fans of the Ormond Jayne perfumes include perfumistas from all over the world and celebrities such as Elton John, Bryan Ferry, Emma Thompson, Sophie Dahl and Yasmin le Bon.
There are already two Ormonde Jayne boutiques in London in Mayfair and Sloane Square and points of sale at Harrods in Knightsbridge and Osswald in Zurich and Senteurs d’Ailleurs in Brussels.

Down in the Bowels of London

One of my favourite readers, Minette of Scent Signals, sent me the following link which guides us down to the London...sewers! The Guardian video follows Rob Smith, head flusher at Thames Water, who explains how 'fat bergs' (amalgamations of illegally dumped cooking oil and wet wipes) are the culprits for frequent blockage and even flooding. But some more pleasant emanations are still possible, as he attests!

Not a pleasant subject on the whole you might say, even though those sewers have inspired writers Robotham, Gaiman and Updale (Lost, Neverwhere and Montmorency series respectively) as well as video games, with their dark and sinister atmosphere. But the interesting thing is that the London sewer system goes back to the Victorian Age. In the 1850s over 400000 tonnes of sewage were flushed into the River Thames each day, thus rendering the river biologically dead. The ...stinky culmination came in the summer of 1858, during which the smell of untreated human waste was extraordinarily potent in central London, forever giving the time frame the nickname "the Great Stink" and reinforcing the theory of "miasmatic air" as a cause for cholera to last well until at least the 1880s, when Koch re-discovered the bacterium responsible for the disease. (The predominance of the theory of the air carrying miasmata through odours is well documented in Alain Corbin's book The Fragrant and the Foul). Soon Joseph Bazalgette was commissioned chief engineer to oversee the construction of the new London sewage system in 1859.

The London sewers are stratographed in regions of class demarcations, nevertheless; certainly a distinction obvious in British society in general in the past, less so now, except for the respective...effluvium, so to speak. The fearless in the eye of dirt Rob Smith describes the emanations that bypass methane for a more pleasant odour as those coming from the "affluent effluent" ~the stuck remnants of perfumed body oils and bath washes which are used by the richer folks; certain areas smell of expensive oils that carry their aromatic heritage down the drain...
The London sewage system holds a special fascination apparently, a mix of the Gothic tradition with the metamodern V for Vendetta flair for underground scheming: With such names of "hot spots" as Devil's Gate, Itself, Labyrinth, and Rubix, is it any wonder perfume managed to sneak in there too?


Next post will be a review & lucky draw for a new niche perfume. Stay tuned!

sketch of Faraday and Father Thames via wikimedia commons

Le Labo Poivre 23 (London Exclusive): fragrance review

The 16th century dock workers required by law to wear a no-pockets-and-no-cuffs uniform are but a small testament to the power of pepper: they often risked their lives trying to sneak peppercorns by stuffing their clothing! As pepper was worth its weight in gold ~by representing a steadier currency (coins were often counterfeited with other alloys) and one of the ways to keep foodstuff for long in a time before refrigerators~ the necessity of perilous, long voyages to exotic lands of the East had seamen reach India to break through the Venice and Genoa monopoly of the Spice Route during the Middle Ages and rulers intent on keeping the spice road clear for caravans to safely bring pepper westwards.
Hippocrates recommended pepper in medicine while the Romans used it so much that the road of spice trading was called Via Piperatica (Pepper Street). It’s no coincidence that both Attila the Hun and Alaric I the Visigoth demanded part of Rome’s ransom in pepper (recalling the comparable custom of paying Roman legionnaires part of their wages in salt). In a time when bribes of prospective voters were circulating in the form of the spice, dowries included pepper, and suitors who tried to marry upwards were literally forced by aristocrats to gurgle on pepper; there were men who were the salt of the earth but who were not worth their pepper, alas! The latest Le Labo, Poivre 23, is redolent of the demonic yet much desired aura of pepper, the King of Spices: after all Bourbon pepper is named after the Bourbon dynasty of French kings (Which makes one wonder why this is the London and not the Paris exclusive!)

Le Labo being loyal to the self-pronounced name on the bottle? If you’re still questioning your nose while smelling the tarry, smoky facets of birch tar rendering oily, leather-like notes in Patchouli 24 (and less so in Ciste 18), you know what I am talking about. And yet, contrary to the criticism received, the name is only meant to apply to the top note (the initial impression, might we say more accurately) and the number of ingredients.

My own criticism of the brand lies elsewhere and I have resisted voicing it for long. Since they believe“Writing about perfume is like dancing about architecture” there isn’t much of a chance they’re checking online publications anyway, so I might as well get it off my chest.
Fabrice and Eddie, the owners of the “perfumery lab” at 233 Elizabeth Street in New York are two fragrance industry veterans who aimed to apply their noses in an unconventional project. The concept of lab-robbed technicians pouring the juice that very minute into your own name-tagged bottle, bearing the date of mixing and an “expiry” date in typewriter font (clinic chic!) is repelling to me in anastrophe, making me view the contents as pasteurized milk rather than a great vintage of dry red wine. Le Labo says a propos: “The last-minute formulation allows the composition to stay “fresh” and retain the fullness of its fragrance, in particular its delicate top notes, and to preserve the intensity required to shock. Made-to-order means that the essential oil concentrates in the perfume remain separate from the alcohol right up to the moment of purchase. Only then do our lab technicians proceed to the final formulation of the perfume, then bottle and label it with your name and the date of fabrication”. Actually the maturation of the jus is an integral part of the creation process and not necessarily the first step into decay. The personalized touch was originally meant to denote a custom-made feel but I sense that it is more of a marketing drivel for the “aware” customer. The reluctance of handing out physical samples because "All natural fragrances are not meant to be sampled; if you try them from a sample they aren't as good» (the frag “was better in the original bottle”)left me doubting my ears.
Secondly, and adjacent to the erroneous “all natural” lapse above, their claim of ingredients coming from Grasse is somehow making perfumephiles think they are of some superior quality to others. People who have been in Grasse can attest that ingredients manipulated there are sourced all over the place, so it is not like this element alone provides credentials of excellence. I am willing to accept that it is all a matter of confusion and misquoting nevertheless (in which case, dear Le Labo, please mail me for discussion) These points aside Poivre 23 is good. Let me elaborate.

Poivre 23 London follows City Scents previously created by Le Labo for New York (Tubereuse 40), Los Angeles (Musc 25), Dallas (Aldehyde 44) , Paris (Vanille 44) and Tokyo (Gaiac 10) in what is no doubt an exasperating, old but brilliant move towards providing a coveted luxury item: that which cannot be had easily! Poivre (pepper) refers to the Piper genus in the Piperacae family and not the Capsicum one of the Solanaceae family (which includes green, red, chili and generally an assortment of edible peppers).

The nose behind Le Labo Poivre 23 is Nathalie Lorson, a perfumer currently at Firmenich, Paris (formely at IFF), who was raised in Grasse, the traditional perfume capital of France. She is responsible for a diverse portfolio that encompasses the almost universally pleasing Bulgari pour Femme, the modern classic aldehydic floriental Dolce & Gabbana Femme, the recent re-issues of Lancôme Peut- Être and Aqua di Parma Profumo, as well as several Adidas fragrances and the one for Kate Moss. She has also signed the three latest fragrances by Lalique: the pre-empting Perles with its peppery musky background, the disturbingly appealing earthy vetiver of Encre Noire and the blackberry muskiness of Amethyst. As she confided: “I try first and foremost to serve the project, which can lead me to explore unfamiliar territory… and to rein in my ego!” Yet the familiar suppleness of her compositions is definitely there.

Nathalie’s spicy-woody personal totem is Déclaration for Cartier, so it’s no wonder she harnessed the untamed demon into supplication so suavely. I am a self-admitted spice lover and pepper is one of my favourite notes, heavily used in perfumery to elevate compositions into something simultaneously hot and cold (Opium by Yves Saint Laurent), or to bestow its brilliance, such as in Piper Negrum by Lorenzo Villoresi. Poivre 23 goes for an orientalized take on the prized material fusing subtle citrus elements with exotic woody notes such as a whiff of patchouli, some gaiac and Australian sandalwood (different than the Indian variety). The whole is suffused into a warm, radiating, rather sweet (I am tempted to say liqueur-tinged) aura with inviting tobacco undertones; smoke rising in slow rings over the canopy of an opium den.
The pepper note vanishes soon; essentially true to its “short” nature (“short” spices give an intial jolting impression but do not last, as opposed to “long” ones which are retained into the aftertaste). In that regard Poivre Piquant by L’artisan is more of a true pepper, with the longevity issues of what that entails as well. What are left from Poivre 23 are sweet nothings spoken in a contralto sostenuto for hours. That would have amber and darkish vanilla lovers, as well as fans of the perversely un-foodie vanilla of Shalimar, enraptured. Compared to their Paris exclusive Vanille 44, Poivre 23 is spicier, a tad less ambery and woodier with echoes of the less complex Gaiac 10 (the Tokyo Exclusive); something that leads me to believe it would be a good hit with men perfume lovers compared to that one, without alienating women fans.

I don’t especially condone the practice of super-exclusive perfumes for the heck of it through my retail shopping, nor do I think that the price asked for such a huge amount of extrait de parfum (the only concentration available) is completely justified. Therefore I left empty-handed. However I asked if there is the option available to some of their other scents in other cities of creating a silicone-based roll-on product fit for the purse. The kind sales assistant informed me that she would ask and a relative is instructed to go back and pick it up if it materializes. I will keep you posted if so!

Notes for Le Labo Poivre 23 (London exclusive):
Bourbon pepper, citrus, incense, cistus labdanum, Australian sandalwood, patchouli, vanilla, gaiacwood, styrax.

Le Labo Poivre 23 is exclusive to Liberty, London, available in Extrait de Parfum (pure parfum) in sizes of 50ml, 100ml and 500ml. (£120 for 50ml, 240.00 for 100ml; I didn’t dare find out the price for 500ml of pure parfum).
The official site (http://www.lelabofragrances.com/) is seriously appealing from an artistic point of view.

Pic of peppercorns via greekfood.about.com. Asian woman smoking originally uploaded on MUA

London Calling...part 4: at Roja Dove's place

When one is faced with greatness it manifests itself in no uncertain terms. Awe, amazement and a feeling of having tingles down the spine greet you upon entering one of the sacred altars of perfume, Roja Dove’s Haute Parfumerie on the 5th floor of Harrod’s, the Titanic of all stores: impressive, astounding in fact and certain to lead you to your doom. Financially speaking, that is.

Roja Dove is no stranger to perfume and his very special place in that Mecca of shoppers is magnificent. Formerly professeur de parfums at Guerlain (a title he gave himself, when they were at a loss on how to call him, as he is not a “nose” ~meaning a practicing perfumer) he is in reality a Roger who spelled his name the way it is pronounced in a heavy-set aristocratic English accent.
Haute Parfumerie was a concept near and dear to his heart, as it is meant to work like a museum and a shop combined: among the myriads of vintage bottles in opulent Bacarrat crystals there are many recreations and infinitesimal versions of favourite smells for customers to pick and choose, so that they are guaranteed to find their perfect holy grail scent or just the latest fling with which to dance the night away. All subject to their taste.

The grand staircase that recalls an Egyptian tomb fit for a Pharaoh in a modern version of Liz Taylor’s "Cleopatra"is nowhere near possible to describe without being unjust and the evocative lighting of the space is akin to entering a shrine to the high priest of perfume indeed. Rows and rows of vintage bottles with impressive names stand in aloof poise, among them the Bacarrat rarity Les Larmes Sacrees de Thebes (=sacred tears of Thebes ~fit for the Egyptian theme!), Nina Ricci’s discontinued classic Coeur Joie (=heart of joy), Ombre Rose by Jean Charles Brosseau with its rich powdery hay and oppoponax base or the individual Caron masterpiece of Ernest Daltroff En Avion, dedicated to aviation and its brave first steps. Indeed they do have many of the Caron urn perfumes: those are the pure parfum/extrait perfumes that the venerable French house only sells from big crystal “vats” at their boutiques by request.
They also have the rare gems of Christian Dior from the days of their illustrious past: Diorama and Diorling. They are too beautiful to dismiss in a single expletive, so they deserve their own space and time in the near future to which you will be treated shortly.

Additionally Roja has created some individual scents for selling there, as I found out for about £2000 a bottle. The price being prohibitive I was reluctant to even try them out for fear I might have to break down and put a little mortgage to acquire one of them. On the other hand he is also launching three more moderately priced yet quality superior feminine scents for the upcoming season (October to be precise). They are based around one fragrance family each and they are named Scandal (a rich white floral), Enslaved(an oriental) and Unspoken (a chypre).

Roja’s theory of why smell is so important to us is interesting though and worth recounting. He maintains that the part of the brain that deals with odour is empty when we are born and we spend the first years of our lives (well into our puberty and beyond, I get to understand) forming preferences and distastes. This might be the reason why babies and small children often do not have a notion of “bad” smells and they venture into skatole-filled adventures that would make us shudder. It might also explain why there are definite preferences in certain aromas when we grow up that we can’t seem to shake off: they just move us on a deeper level, reminiscing of our childhood experiences and memories.

Roja elaborates that this is what is called an “odour profile”, sounding very much like a special FBI agent intent on capturing a serial killer, and in a way, you might want to think that smell is a serial killer, the way it strikes again and again and again with shocking results every single time. This odour profile constitutes what we find appealing and what not and also pinpoints which fragrance families tend to attract us more, giving a glimpse into our personalities in the process. This also coincides with what Mandy Aftel has to say when creating a bespoke fragrance for a client, by the way. She maintains that you can judge somewhat the tendencies of a personality according to the basenotes they choose for their tailor-made fragrance: shy or conventional types go for vanilla; hell-cats go for hay or blond tobacco and so on.
It’s an interesting thought, to be sure.

To revert to the subject at hand though, Roja continues by elaborating on how to choose an appropriate scent for oneself, using the odour profile. First there is some testing to determine which fragrance family is most appealing in general. For general purposes this is three-fold, encompassing floral, chypre and oriental. It is essential to clarify at this point that this is not meant to exclude one from the other or indeed disregard the nuances of cross-pollination that very often happen across families. It is simply a matter of simplifying a basic tendency that might produce more recommendations that would be most suitable. It doesn’t mean that a person can’t very well enjoy certain fragrances from all those families above.
Indeed after establishing a preference, one then goes through a process of elimination and specification that involves smelling separate notes. This is done through the use of scented candles, Diptyque it was from what I recall, and they let you smell the glasses they came in and share your impressions, as those particular candles are single-note based. My own preference for Oak, Oeillet, Jasmine and Pomander resulted in recommendations of Bellodgia, Mitsouko, Bal a Versailles and Coup de Fouet. Oh, dear, I already knew that…, I inwardly think.
Still, the process is fascinating, especially as there is no divulging of what you are smelling till after you have proffered an opinion. Which maintains the quintessential factors of a good test: objectivity and no influence by advertising or packaging.
I highly recommend the trip!

Pic "Favourably inclined" originally uploaded by cishikilauren /flickr

London Calling...part 2

There is no greater endearment than the nostalgia of bygones. Sommerset Maugham would have plenty to say about this, I’m sure, in his usual fabulous style and poignant mood which would account for a frame of mind not unlike the one I had upon visiting the renovated Penhaligon’s store in London’s Wellington Street. There is also a Penhaligon's store in Oxford street, but Oxford street being quite unlike Oxford the town itself (if you have been to either, you do know what I mean), I never ventured inside.

There is an element of kitsch Sarah Key childish reminiscence in tiny pastel bows on ribbons and deep claret red hues that adorned the shop in days of yore when eager and just-out-of-bloomers so to speak (at least financially) I pressed my nose on the window pane to stare at the dark wooden luxurious displays and the bottles of perfumes and lotions stacked up in rows.

The whole setting was like that of a fairy tale set in the Victorian era, the scent of Violetta in the air like a powdery sweet candy that was sucked by Miss Havisham in an alternative universe where she does get her man after all and the spider webs on the tables and corners remain but a mere figment of an author’s imagination. It just exuded the kind of posh ambience of cognac sipped in the evening in front of a blazing fire.
Later this image was replicated (or so I thought at the time) by Browns of Melbourne which I scoured for lovingly back at home, at times when Penhaligon’s was unavailable for purchase so saccharine might as well stand for sugar. Alas the cutesy factor sometimes ruined it for me. The look of weirdly wonderful spicy Malabah was what I was searching for, you see.

The new façade is lovingly worked on, with pastels, pale colours that give a new lift, more airy, brighter certainly; but somehow lacking the deeper ends of the Victorian fairy tale, poignant Dickensian vagabonds with gratitude towards small children missing. Still, the boutique is magical and very worth a visit.

I reacquainted myself with their cherubic Lily of the Valley which rings wreath-like spring chimes in my ears and with daredevil Malmaison, a scent of carnation that is piquant yet restrained enough to make me crave it and finally put it on my to-buy list for next season. I refrained as the shop was rather expensive and the pound is still strong. However the obliging staff was making this very hard to do and I was enslaved by their lovely chat and their pleasing demeanor and had I purchased something I would have certainly opted for the promising hand and arm massage that involved the brand’s lotions and powders (that was also an option at Jo Malone, of which later on).

As it is, my hands and arms are left unPenhaligon-ed and I feel the poorer for it.
As Miss Havisham surely must have known, opportunities come once in a blue moon.

Artwork "A rubber at miss Havisham's": wood engraving by Marcus Stone, courtesy of victorianweb.org. Pic of Penhaligon's products courtesy of their site.

London Calling...part 1

The way of the pilgrim is long and arduous like that in a Chaucer tale, the sound of the Clash, echoing memories flowing in furrows inside my mind. London was calling. And with the low brow of a pilgrim I followed the call.

The UK has been in the whirlwind of unforeseeable events: what with the floods, the temperamental climate that exceeded all previous recollections of caprice I had, the bovine disease resurgence... And yet, the Albion is still there, still making me reminiscence of youth days spent in alternative laziness and studious frenzy.
Not to mention the shopping opportunities. Of which you are about to share a slice.

The inside of Les Senteurs (020 7730 2322, Les scenteurs link) is no stranger to its posh Belgravia residence in the centre of London, as row upon row of glass bottles in various sizes and colours shine like jewels under a magician’s hand or the rose panes of an old cathedral lit under a northern sky .
A kid in a candystore, Alice in Wonderland and let’s see how deep the rabbit hole gets. Men with suave manners and heavy- set rings are there to help you along in choosing the mystical passage to your inner core, the fragrant touch that will put the z to your pizzazz, the (French pronounced) h to your panache.

There lay some rare Caron treasures to try: Narcisse Noir, which has proven to be so temperamental like a shrewd that never quite became tame despite the undoubted charm she possesses that makes me try again and again and again; or N’aimez que moi(=love only me), the sine qua non of old-fashioned femininity, even in eau de parfum concentration which is no small feat.

I want brightness, light, exhilaration in liquid form. To these demands Neroli sauvage (=wild neroli) by Creed and Virgin Island Water are presented. Although the former is intended for the stronger (or is it?) sex I find that its zestful combination of bergamot, petitgrain, hesperides, neroli and verbena on a base of sandalwood and ambergris give a metallic tonality that is both clean, slightly floral and subtly sensual. Lovers would love to partake of a shared ritual. I am torn. I like this.
Virgin Island Water on the other hand is much more a beach scent in a city with no beaches, unlike my own. A beach scent with jasmine laced with white bergamot and a pinch of coconut for the tropical feel that makes it somehow more mainstream than it would like to be for its own good.

And then comes Tubereuse Indiana which is curiously a revelation: smooth and intense, very floral, yet truly different than most tuberoses I have tried. Created in 1980, it is non indicative of the decade of excess, certainly not of said flower’s intense profile and it does not scream its lovers over the rooftops in hysterical fashion in the manner of –say- Fracas. The curious juxtaposition of rose with a little unidentified fruit enhances the smoothness without adding powderiness and the typical musk and ambergris background of most Creed fragrances lies there like the remnants of long forgotten sins. A slight whiff of amber rounds it off warmly and invitingly. Maybe the climate in London is very much agreeable to it…

Whatever you do, if in London, Les Scenteurs is a must. Not just the Cartier perfume, but truly: so much more.


Next installement with more perfume discoveries to follow shortly...

Pic of Creed display courtesy of their official site