Miriam: The Fragrant Story part3

“From the Desk of Miriam Masterson”, year 1969  

Father is a minor player in our home life. Mother always seems to me to be
the star. Father is a recurring character with an extended walk on role. He
seems to know what mother needs and makes sure that she has it. This all
takes almost no communication whatsoever, as if they can read each other’s
minds. Years later, it will occur to me that mother’s needs weren’t being
met at all, that she was possibly pretty unhappy, maybe even something like
miserable, certainly unfulfilled, and only seemed to be content because
she’d mastered the art of looking that way.

As a child, I think that my parents must do all their talking behind closed
doors. Their scenes together take place off stage: in the bedroom, or downstairs,
in the den, once I’ve gone to sleep. At dinner, mother tells me to sit
up straight, paying serious attention to the way I chew my food, the way I
look, the way I speak. She seems to know what I’m thinking, verbalizing
my insecurities.

Tension runs from her place at the table to mine. Father reads the paper,
or watches the TV. Something very important is always in the paper or on
the TV and one of the very first things I learn in life is that when father is
watching TV he must never under any circumstances be distracted or
interrupted in any way. I must be nine or ten, and we’re sitting there at the
table, and father is chewing as he watches something on TV - possibly the
news - and without taking his eyes off the screen he compliments mother on
her perfume. It’s as if he’s talking out loud to himself.
Sometimes, mother and I go to the department store together, which is like
a movie set, complete with backdrop displays, extras, and intersecting
intrigues. The smiling mannequins are dressed like mother and could be
her stand-ins. At the perfume counter, I search the bottles for anything
that looks like the one mother has at home, while she chats theatrically with
the sales associates. She acts as if she knows them, asking about their
families, complimenting them on their outfits. She knows everyone in their
families by name. She knows the ages of their children and remembers
their accomplishments and activities. She’s so friendly, so sociable, that I
barely recognize her.

In this alternate universe, she’s the picture of happiness. Her laughter
spreads around her infectiously, and I find myself laughing too, without
really knowing the script. The mall is full of women, and all of them smell
like perfume. The only man I see is the owner of the place, who emerges
from a doorway every so often, standing in the background, watching our
interaction. He acts as if he’s orchestrated the conversation, as if he’s the
director, but to me he seems peripheral, as if he’s been shut out of the scene.

If you missed part 1 and part 2, just click the links.  

photo via www.annmagnuson.com 

Miriam: The Fragrant Story Goes On & Interview with the Perfumer

“From the Desk of Miriam Masterson”, year 1968

"Three blocks away from our house on Evelyn Avenue, I take dance lessons,
at the Beauregard School of Ballet. Mother expects me to do my very best
and tells me so every Tuesday, Thursday, and Saturday on the way to the
studio. We’re often alone in the car, driving to some appointment or
engagement where something will be expected of me. I sit in the back seat,
staring at her hair. Not a strand out of place. The car smells of leather
upholstery, face powder, and the scent I think of as mother. I wonder
whether she feels insecure, being out in the world without her perfume
bottle. How can she make sure she applies enough to last her through the
day?
The bottle has no label. There might have been a ribbon--perhaps the
manufacturer tied something around the neck at one point. A box might
still exist, stored neatly on a shelf or in a drawer. When asked, mother says
she doesn’t know the name of the fragrance. It was a gift, she shrugs, as if
it fell out of the sky or simply appeared on her vanity one day.

It’s warm in the car and the heat has an interesting effect on the perfume. Maybe mother is perspiring, though that’s almost inconceivable.

Sometimes, when the car is parked in the garage, I go out and sit in it, and because of the smell mother is there with me, only I don’t feel I’ve done something wrong, or not well enough. Safe from her disappointment, I look out the window at the contents of the garage and I tell myself that at
some point I can get in a car like this and drive away if I’d like to. I can stop worrying about letting mother down, without having to feel that I’ve abandoned her. I won’t be abandoning mother because of the smell of her perfume inside the car. I’ll be leaving but taking her with me. I sit in the
front seat, imagining where I might drive. I look through the windshield as if entertaining an audience.


At the dance school, as Mr. Beauregard rehearses with us, I can feel mother
watching from the bench which lines one of the mirrored walls of the
studio. There are twenty girls in my class--all of us the same age--but
mother’s gaze singles me out and I feel diminished. I feel she would rather
have almost any other girl in the class as her daughter. I stare at my
classmates suspiciously, resentful of their unstudied perfection. By the
time we return to our driveway, mother’s perfume is somewhat stale, and
makes me a little queasy. She tells me I will have to do better in class; otherwise
I’ll continue to embarrass myself."

Thus continues the quest of Miriam, the character in Women's Picture, which became Miriam Eau de Parfum, the fragrance by Tauer Perfumes. 
For the occasion, Tauer replied to PerfumeShrine's questions below. Enjoy!

• When I showed the fragrance(s) to my Italian importer, his first reaction was: “But Andy, this is again different to what you have done so far. It is different. So different!”

Elena Vosnaki: How did the idea to combine film and perfume launches come about?
Andy Tauer: Actually, it is all Brian’s initial idea. And, in a sense, it came at a very difficult moment for myself. It is actually more than just launching a film and a perfume together. Brian was looking for a partner, who would be interested to get inspired by women’s portraits that he captures on celluloid. These are women portraits like we know them from the forties and fifties, transported into our time. He contacted me one day out of the blue, asking me whether I would be interested to come up with perfumes that mirror his portraits. I came out of negotiations with an investment banker on building a brand and a perfume together and to be frank: I was so NOT interested in another project with another guy. But I tried to be nice, and wanted to read the script of the movie(s) and took it with me on my biking holiday. There, on my way with the bike from lake Geneva to the Mediterranean,  in the evenings, I read the script, again and again. After having seen the movie,  in a first version, I knew: I want to do these fragrant portraits for Brian. I knew by then, somehow, that I can blindly trust him. I proposed to him, however, that we should not fill the fragrances into Tauer flacons. It would not do justice to his brilliant idea and to the portraits. This is why we came up with Tableau de Parfums as brand: To make sure that it is not “just another tauer fragrance” but something different. And to make sure,  that perfume lovers see the connection. When I showed the fragrance(s) to my Italian importer, his first reaction was, without knowing the background: “but Andy, this is again different to what you have done so far. It is different. So different!”    

• Bitter sweet memories are part of Miriam.

EV: I read how the memory of your own mother come into the picture upon seeing Brian's vision. Is there a connection with Miriam EDP?

AT: Yes and no.

No in the sense that the fragrance Miriam is made for Miriam, the figure in the movie Miriam, played by Ann Magnuson, who is, by the way, absolutely wonderful. This scene where she sits in the meeting room ,with the toast in her hand. Oh my…! When I saw it the first time, I was sitting in there with her!

Thus, I created the fragrance, with Miriam in mind, with Ann Magnuson being Miriam, and with my memories in my mind. And there, there is the Yes. Yes, of course: Miriam’s mother is old and suffers from dementia. Miriam cares for her, and her mother’s perfume is a link into a past that is gone and far away. My mother passed from us three years ago. Too early. But it is not us deciding when we need to part. My mother and me were very close, connected by a bond that is still very strong, a friendship, love, and the routines of telephone calls, regular dinners together at our and her place. In the end, with her disease entering the final phase, my partner and myself cared as best as we could and invited her to our house for a few weeks, after her last treatment, knowing that we are counting weeks now. We talked a lot. About a almost everything.

To be frank: I cannot handle death properly. I do not find consolation outside the fact that we are all star dust and will return to the universe and become a star one day. When I watched Woman’s Picture, it triggered a lot of memories of my family and my mother and her role as fighter, trying to let us grow up and give us all we need without a father; trying to cope with a life that was not easy. Being a mother is not easy. I feel men cannot fully grasp the love a mother has to her child. It is the memory of this love that made me smile and sad at the same time when I watched Woman’s Picture. Miriam, Loretta and also, especially, Ingrid. So touching.

• Anything else would not be honest.

EV: Do you think there is a buying audience for an aldehydic floral beyond a dedicated fan base these days? (When was the last time you heard of an aldehydic promoted as such?)

AT: Ah, Elena! Of course there  is! Miriam is a wonderful floral, aldehydic, green, deep, rich, vintage, wonderful oldfashioned, chic, grand perfume. A true classic. And it is much more. It is a link into a world of other women, of portraits, of a story of our mothers and grandmothers. And then, even if is not attracting a large buying audience: I do not think in market share and bottle turn over when creating a fragrance. The fragrance must be the way it is. Anything else would not be honest!

• Miriam is definitely vintage, or rather vintage-like

EV: What was the challenge in Miriam EDP? Perched between modern and vintage? Technical stuff? Seeing the film character changing course slowly possibly? Something else?
AT: My challenge was to come up with a fragrance that is born in the forties of the last century, but created today: How to find an aesthetic language that bridges this gap! How to create a fragrance that conserves this vintage spirit but fits with Miriam who lives today. I hope I managed. Miriam is definitely vintage, or rather vintage-like.

Miriam Eau de Parfum will launch in October at ScentBar in Los Angeles.

photo via romantichome blog

Tableau de Parfums Miriam: fragrance review & Giveaway

The dream of a hug, the vivid bitter sweet memory of her perfume,
her hair shining golden in the morning sun, so fine,
the violets from the garden in her hand,
freshly picked with the dew pearls dropping one after the other,
the green May roses on the table, lasting forever.
It is a dream of days long gone, with a smile on my lips.

Miriam Eau de Parfum is the first fragrance on the Tableau de Parfums line (you have a chance of getting to know it before anyone else, read on!), referencing the heady, diffusive fragrances of the 1940s and 1950s.

Some people who admired Tauer perfumes had asked on these very pages some time ago that he composes an aldehydic floral. Apparently he listens! Miriam is an old-school rosy-green aldehydic floral, like they don't make them any more; perfumey, rosy, with piquant notes that register between soapiness and fizziness, an armour of glamorous "clean". You imagine a highly strung classy woman that hides her woes behind an immaculate veneer; perfectly coifed & manicured, wearing delightfully constructed, tailored clothes and maybe a string of pearls. Male filmmakers of the 1940s tended to show this powerwoman stereotype having a meltdown at some point in the plot, perhaps a subtle nod to "punishment" for undertaking more than they should. Pamela Robertson explains that Mildred Pierce exposes this contradiction of female success and societal expectations, "because Mildred's success conflicts with the postwar ideology that demands that women give up their careers" [1]. There are even modern specimens like Amy Archer in "The Hudsucker Proxy". But not in Pera's universe. Miriam can be complex, alternating between regret, love, compassion, duty, longing...she's very human.  In the words of Ann Magnuson, who plays Miriam in the film: "The character of Miriam is kind of riffing not only on the forties women’s picture characters but also some of the characters that I’ve played."

Who is Miriam? The host of a long running home shopping network program (“The Miriam Masterson Show”), Miriam (played by well-known actress Ann  Magnuson) is the on air confidante to millions of women across the country, But behind the scenes, Miriam is at odds with the men who run the studio, a motley crew of suits who don’t understand her touchy feely appeal. At home, she struggles with a layabout boyfriend. Her mother has just been put in a nursing home suffering from dementia. What Miriam would like more than anything is the one thing she can’t have: the name of her mother’s signature perfume. What’s left of the fragrance sits in an unlabeled Baccarat decant on the edge of Miriam’s vanity. When it’s gone, it will take a world of memories with it. Does it remind you of something? I thought so. That perfume therefore represents the memory of her mother, the fragrance her mother actually wore, but also the images and thoughts that Miriam projects into her perception of her mother as a younger woman. Makes for contemplating sniffing.

Miriam the fragrance is vintage in spirit but with a contemporary character. “There is something slightly provocative in this perfume,” says Andy Tauer, its creator. “It isn’t naughty, but bold. It makes a statement, and its wearer needs a little bit of daring. A grand perfume constructed in the tradition of French perfumery, Miriam is the kind of fragrance they don’t make much anymore.” Indeed! When was the last time you actually heard of a major company launching an aldehydic floral? This is one of the beauties of discovering artisanal perfumers: They eschew trends into producing what they like.
The scent of Miriam Eau de Parfum is immediately expansive, filling the room with its citrusy aldehydes burst and violet leaf natural essence (coming from Biolandes), making an instant euphoric impression. Unmistakeably this is an old school rosy floral, fanning the tea rose variety into a soft woody base rich in irones. The woodiness is half and half Australian and Mysore sandalwood, giving a smooth underlay. I hear there's also ambergris/Ambrox, one of the notes that Tauer likes and uses as insignia. It's subtle here and very low-hum (resulting in less than plutonium-like lasting power in this case), while there is a hint of animalic warmth deep down (civet?), taking a sensuous path for a brief while. But never fear; like the corresponding character Miriam EDP knows how to behave, even if her heart takes her elsewhere from time to time.

Miriam Eau de Parfum was inspired by the character played by Ann Magnuson in Woman's Picture series by director Brian Pera. (It even has its own Facebook page! Check it out!)

Notes for Tableau de Parfums Miriam:
bergamot, sweet orange, geranium, violet blossom, rose, jasmine, ylang, violet leaf, lavender, vanilla, orris root, sandalwood.

We are hosting a giveaway! One purse sized atomiser (7ml) to a lucky winner and 5 deluxe samples (1 ml each), with a DVD included, shipped directly by Tauer Perfumes into the entire world. Draw is open till September 7th and winner announced at the end of next week. Just leave a comment re: this post.

Miriam EDP will launch in early October in Los Angels at Scentbar and Luckyscent. Tauer will not make it available on the Tauer website, but rather on Evelyn Avenue.

[1] Robertson, Pamela. Guilty Pleasures. Durham & London: Duke University Press. 1996.

A Fragrant Novelette & Film: Evelyn's Avenue & Tableau de Parfums Miriam

“All of us grow up in particular realities — a home, family, a clan, a small town, a neighborhood. Depending upon how we’re brought up, we are either deeply aware of the particular reading of reality into which we are born, or we are peripherally aware of it.”

Thus says Chaim Potok and today I am honoured to having been picked to introduce you an ultra cool project cinematographer (& man about the arts) Brian Pera and perfumer Andy Tauer will unfold in the coming weeks (We will have giveaways of samples and downloads and interviews, so stick around!).

Brian Pera introduced me to Evelyn Avenue, "a street in Memphis, Tennessee, located in the “midtown” area. There are tons of trees, old houses, people walking dogs or riding their bikes. [...]There are no garages, so you’re encouraged to say hello to your neighbors when you get in and out of your car, or to avoid them more creatively.". This neighborhood from real and lived in suddenly became an Internet small corner where the comings and goings of several creative minds are documented. They're also perfume related in a more tangible way, with a ten-year-long collaboration, with Andy Tauer's project Tableau de Parfums, portraits inspired by the shorts of Pera’s ongoing film series, Woman’s Picture; Woman's Picture is a series of short films involving childhood memories of the perfumes their mothers and grandmothers wore and what they represent to them. These shorts will be available for download on Evelyn Avenue and on DVD through the store at the time of each fragrance’s release, along with a novelette related to the character.

It is Perfume Shrine's honour to introduce you to Miriam's story today, through a perfume novelette:

"The sixties are saying bold patterns, geometric prints--and short, shorter, shortest--
but mother sticks to what she knows. Her nightgown is simple: a
pale floral design on a turquoise background, floor length, probably satin.

It has a mauve colored sash. She sits at the vanity, brushing her hair. At fifty, I’ll remember the feel of the fabric of this nightgown against my face, like the pillow on my bed, the feel of going to sleep, and how infrequently my mother let me near enough to touch it. The vanity is dark wood, possibly
mahogany. Mother got it from her grandmother, who got it from no one knows exactly where. It’s really just a table but mother has made it something more. Three generations of women have set themselves down before it, preparing, refining, thinking, rethinking.

The perfume mother wears, her signature scent, is its own little island, located at the farthest right end of the vanity. The crystal bottle reminds me of a tear drop. The stopper is long and sharp like a glistening dagger.
I’m seven years old. Mother is the world to me. Every morning, after I wake, I walk the hallway separating our rooms. I’m quiet so mother won’t hear me. I stop at her room and stand there in the doorway, watching her from behind. She finishes her hair and applies her make-up. She regards
herself for a moment in the mirror, pivoting to find the right angle.

I can’t read her face. It’s some kind of performance, it seems to me. It’s as
if she’s rehearsing. I pretend I know what she’s thinking, putting thoughts
into her head. I pretend I’m her audience and that in some way we’re
communicating through this performance. It’s the closest I come to under
standing her but I have no words for what I’m seeing and feeling.

She reaches for the bottle at the edge of the vanity, drawing it closer. She
lifts the stopper and dabs once on each side of her neck, observing her
reflection. Before she replaces the bottle she holds the stopper under her
nose and she closes her eyes, drifting off somewhere on the smell. She looks
like pictures I’ve seen, women lost in private moments, enacting some kind
of ritual no one else is meant to see. The pictures make the moments
public. Staring at them is like watching my mother from her doorway. You
feel you know these women. You might be them - if not now, then one day."

The Series launches its first episode of the portrait series, MIRIAM, on Evelyn Avenue, coinciding with the launch of the MIRIAM perfume, the first release by Tableau de Parfums. MIRIAM features Ann Magnuson as a home shopping network hostess whose life has reached crisis point. MIRIAM will be available for download in the third week of October, when there will also be a prequel of the companion ROSE. Miriam Eau de Parfum by Tauer Perfumes launches on October 7th at Scentbar (the brick & mortar store of Luckyscent) in Los Angeles, while the day before several of the Woman's Picture shorts will screen at the Royal T Gallery in Los Angeles.

There is a host of people participating as well so check them out for more news:
September 7: Persolaise September 14: Olfactorama September 21: Perfume Smellin’ Things September 28: The Non-Blonde October 5: Perfume Posse

Tomorrow on Perfume Shrine, a preview of Miriam EDP, a surprise and a giveaway!! Don't miss. 



Woman's Picture Trailer from brian pera on Vimeo.