White Noise Fragrances: More than Random Frequencies to Adapt to All Acoustics Conditions

Obviously the term "White Noise Fragrances" doesn't really exist; I just coined it, same as I had coined "parfums lingerie" in the past, in the hopes it catches on. The nomenclature of perfumery and -what's more, perfume use- is still in its embryo state compared to other fields of science and art, which have centuries of literature behind them, so I feel relatively safe and reckless enough (the scientific principle is proven anyway) to propose new terminology for effects we're all familiar with. Or aren't we?

via _esire @deviantart

Contrary to "skin scents", a term loosely used by numerous perfume aficionados to denote either a subtle scent that hover over the skin or mimics the latter's living, heaving aura, White Noise Fragrances do not attempt to appear any more "naturally occurring" than static. You can perceive them all right, they expand and detract minimally, just like an equal power signal with fixed width, always at the realm between comfort and annoyance. But contrary to the visual spectrum reference, they're not "white" as is the blaring light of some aldehydic florals, such as Chanel No.22, Lauder White Linen or the modern interpretation Tauer's Noontide Petals. Those are rays of sun eclipsing everything in their wake. These They are a constant buzz like the sound of a bubble-bee on a summer's morning; at the realm between comfort and annoyance, once again. But what we haven't quite admitted is that this can be a good thing, as it offers the experience of wearing perfume and at the same time accommodating the surrounding scenery; in a small way the definition of ωραίος in Greek, something which is in accordance (rather than discordance) to the time and place it applies, at once a broader and narrower, certainly more intelligent definition than "beautiful".

White Noise Fragrances can be exemplified by such cute little things like Cacharel's Noa and indeed it was a reader's query to fragrances similar to Noa, which put me into this thinking track and made me question just what makes such stuff oddly appealing despite their seeming lack of "character". If by character we mean an Al Pacino role where he claims the character through a spontaneous bout of angry shouting (increasignly trademarked by said actor), we're missing the mark. Fragrances such as these tend to be performing in varied degrees of histrionics, such as diva-esque tuberoses or shrill florals announcing their message from the rooftops. They do not possess the sophisticated quirk of an Elena Anaya either, the way a green chypre or a woody oriental would. Additionally, if you have always longed for your fragrance to make a statement, to be smelled as if embodying a hybrid between an object and a person, White Noise Fragrances won't appeal; they're too abstract and indeterminate. Yet they're one of the surest compliment getters; people just register them as "pleasant".
White Noise Fragrances aren't too imperceptible either, contrary to say some of the skin scents which recede and only surface when the skin is heated, such as the infamous Molecule 01 (Escentric Molecules), Narciso Rodriguez Musk for Her or Eau de Merveilles by Hermès. They're light, but they're not transparent.

No, White Noise Fragrances project at a steady, perceptible, above the skin volume which you can almost taste, but their buzz is sotto voce, unwavering, yet forceful like an inner bleeding that is pouring with no apparent source and no outlet. I just love them and frequently use them and it hadn't occurred to me till now what was the appeal besides their typical inclusiveness of various musks (smells which I adore). Now I have put my thoughts into a pattern I can see how it all makes sense. And I can propose a list of fragrances sharing those enviable qualities of Noa with all the necessary nuance to please different tastes within the genre.  White Noise Fragrances are not necessarily feminine-smelling in the traditional sense, though they're usually marketed to women, for some inexorable reason, and anyone could borrow them effortlessly. They're great for first dates, for office wearing (assuming your office doesn't have an outright ban on perfumes) or casual weekends, because even though they are detectably  fragrant they do not imprint themselves the same way as more traditional fragrant approaches do.
Though they include musk molecules in their composition (and Iso-E Super and Ambroxan most of the time), they're not tautologous with the "drugstore musk" fragrance type most are familiar with; indeed they can take a few elements of assorted accords. They also come in various price points, though they mostly abound in the mainstream market, since niche usually exalts the statement-making or the really transparent (in which case we're reverting to "skin scents").

Here you will find my suggestions. Feel free to augment the list with your own in the comments.

Mainstream Buzz 

Estee Lauder Pure White Linen

Donna Karan Cashmere Mist

See by Chloe

Bvlgari Eau Parfumee au thé blanc

Bvlgari Omnia Crystalline

Cacharel Noa

Gucci Eau de Parfum II

Estee Lauder Pleasures in the Garden (a limited edition trio)

Terre d'Hermès

Prada Infusion d'Homme

Dior Homme

CK Be

A bit harder to find but worth it

Voyage d'Hermès

Rochas Tocadilly (discontinued)

Chanel Les Exclusifs Beige

Serge Lutens L'Eau Froide

Chanel No.5 Sensual Elixir


Posh Indulgences

Guerlain Cruel Gardénia

Frederick Malle Angeliques sous la pluie

Alternative circuit

Oriflame Elvie

Zara White Jasmine

Perfume Term Definition: Aromatic & Herbaceous

Among perfume terms which are used to describe fragrances some are more confusing than others: what defines a dry scent, what is a balsamic smell and, come to think of it, is aromatic what immediately leaps to mind? One might be inclined to think the descriptor denotes something "having an aroma" or something to do with scent in general, as in "aromatherapy". Yet, in perfumery jargon the term "aromatic" means something more precisely defined.

lavender field in Luberon, South of France

 Strictly speaking, the chemical definition relates aromatic to materials rich in benzene, a conjugated cyclic carbon compound found in organic matter (also known as arene). Penhaligon's Douro is an example, if you need to put a smell to a name. Aromatic in layman speak refers to smells that have a rustic scent, with a certain freshness, often in relation to herbal notes; some sources correlate it even to some balsams and resins. "Aren't balsams and resins generally sweetish, though?", you ask.
You see, the term 'aromatic' was originally assigned before the physical mechanism determining aromaticity was discovered, and was derived from the fact that many of the benzene hydrocarbon compounds have a sweet scent in themselves. It's safe to say that in perfumery parlance aromatic has gradually gained a specific nuance, that of agrestic, green-herbal and with a camphorous hint, like that in pure lavender essence. The character is vivid, assertive, lively and fresh, one of mental clarity, invigoration and awareness; associations prominently exploited by functional perfumery (i.e. the industry catering for scented functional products instead of fine fragrances for oneself).
In fine fragrance this lively, refreshing ambience is wonderfully caught in Baime by Maitre Parfumeur et Gantier. Aromatic notes are therefore not bitter like oakmoss, but not typically syrupy sweet either! Smell the petrol-like opening of Guerlain's Jicky, rich in lavender buttressed by fresh bergamot and you're there (the fragrance soon acquires warmer, naughtier characteristics nevertheless which go beyond the aromatic).

 The herbaceous term -in differentiation of "woody" as in botany- is more of a descriptor than a proper classification: it encompasses such frequent perfumery materials as chamomile, lavender, rosemary, thyme, mint, spearmint, sage, clary sage and even celery, as well as marjoram, oregano and basil. Obviously the materials themselves derive from a herbal plant source, so the term isn't as confusing.
Most people familiar with dabbling in food-making like me, especially ethnic cuisines, know them from their kitchen cabinet. Whenever I cook with these herbs (and it is often, accounted by my Mediterranean origins) I find myself engrossed and enraptured by this humble and humbling splendor of nature; these small stems and leaves are so rich in nuance, so colorful in painting a verdant countryside basking under a benevolent sun, so childlike and at the same time old-wise that I can't but feel overwhelmed by the majestic force of the natural world all over again, like when I was but a mere toddler.

These herbaceous materials couple very well with citruses and spices, lending themselves to both unisex and masculine perfumery, without nevertheless eschewing feminine fragrances ~though the "pure" specimens are rare there, such as Granville by Dior's more upscale private line La Collection Couturier Parfumeur or Donna Karan's Essence Lavender.

Lavender, a par excellence aromatic substance, is a very common ingredient in perfumery, thanks to its linalool freshness and its pleasant association with the outdoors and cleanliness; it's no accident that lavender forms one of the three pillars of the "fougère"/fern family (term explained here). It's therefore natural that ferny smells should be coupled with lavender and other aromatic materials: the two have overlapping facets. This is why you will often see the term "aromatic fougère" brandished in masculine fragrances: this sub-classification within the fougère group indicates a heavier use of refreshing herbal notes in the formula providing a sense of chillness, of immediate freshness, especially since most herbal, aromatic notes are effervescent, i.e. "top notes" in terms of the scent's evaporation arc. Yves Saint Laurent Rive Gauche pour Homme is a perfect example of the genre .

The aromatic descriptor can feature as a supporting player to other stories: In Clinique's Wrappings for instance the aromatic top beautifully highlights the juniper wood of the base. Herbaceous accents can put a classic, cologne-like, aromatic character to a composition, due to association with the traditional Eau de Cologne which fuses herbal notes with hesperidia to render a sharp, tonic scent. The 4711 brand has even created modern variations on the theme in recent years: 4711 Acqua Colonia Lavender & Thyme, 4711 Acqua Colonia Juniper Berry & Marjoram, 4711 Acqua Colonia Melissa & Verbena.
They can also contrast beautifully with a resinous note, like in Encens et Lavande by Serge Lutens where the herbaceous brightness of lavender provides the light in the dusk of the incense. Eau de Jatamansi by L'Artisan Parfumeur is a more straight-forward specimen, where the resinous spikenard gains freshness through the reinforcement of herbaceous accents. The herbaceous facet of rose oxides is played to great effect in Calandre by Paco Rabanne, where the freshness of the composition is thus enhanced effectively.

 For all it's worth, perhaps showcased by the meaning of context above, not all herbs provide purely herbaceous/aromatic notes in perfumery: for example oregano, tarragon (to a lesser degree), basil and marjoram can be described as quasi-spicy, thanks to their rich ratio in piquant molecules which tingle the nostrils, much like the exotic dried spices in the kitchen cabinet do, albeit with a slightly different nuance. Even sage has a slightly peppery flavor. Conversely, although Chinese star anise is routinely considered a spice, its high ratio in anethole (the molecule also present in anise and dill) gives it a herbaceous edge.
Pronouncing a judgment on a fragrance that relies heavily upon those elements one might be technically describing a "herbaceous", but the perceived effect could be spicy. Manifesto by Isabella Rosellini for instance relies on the tingling note of basil, a material rich in eugenol (much like cloves), which immediately translates as "spicy" to one's mind. Pronouncing Manifesto therefore as a spicy scent isn't far from the truth, no matter the source of the effect lies in the garden rather than the Indian market. As in everything when attempting to communicate thoughts, it's important to distinguish whether one speaks from a scholarly or a purely personal perception point of view.

pics via nicenfunny.com and aromablog.ru

Perfume Term: Linear Scents ~Deceptive Simplicity

One of the most common criticisms of a boring, unexciting fragrance among people who actually enjoy perfumes in general is that it is "linear", a scent that starts smelling one way and continues smelling that way till you can't smell it any longer. This description approximates to many people's minds a transliteration of the visual "dead line" on a hospital heart monitor; no highs or lows, just a uniform trajectory to nothingness... But is it always such a bad thing?
Occasionally you love a specific phase of your perfume (increasingly this is the top layer upon spraying, since contemporary fragrances try to capture the short-term, antagonism-driven attention span of the mall buying consumer). Don't you sometimes wish it would last throughout the entire duration of the scent's lifetime on your skin? Why are linear scents so scorned?

Perhaps because historically the first ~and most successful commercially speaking~ linear scents were of American origin (composed by European noses, such as Sophia Grojsman, Josephine Catapano or Ernest Shiftan, in US-labs for US companies catering to an international market). This is a kind of reverse snobbism on the part of perfume aficionados who favor French-ness over apple-pie & Coke homely runs. I hypothesize this is to blame for the en masse disregard of linear scents as a sign of crudeness, non sophistication, of "easy cuts". Classic French perfumes (for instance Bal a Versailles by Jean Desprez) usually follow the classic pyramidal structure of a fragrance which starts one way, progresses another to end on a quite different route than anticipated.

But having a dependable scent effect from start to finish is not to be dismissed so lightly; sometimes one needs to rely on a constant, as "what you smell is what you get"; the equivalent of the jeans & T-shirt girl with no makeup on, who men know will look exactly the same the morning after as when you bedded her. This applies just as much as other times we're seduced by the evolutionary arc of a complex perfume (the scents I call "morphers"), one which changes moods and messages as the hours go by; the romantic equivalent of a mr.Grey, if you will.
Constant olfactory emission of a specific impression is also an important -and technically necessary- aspect for other scented products besides fine fragrance; imagine if your air freshener, your depilatory or your hair dye had an undulating scent profile that would smell like one thing on minute #1 and another thing on minute #12. With these products stability of olfactory effect is crucial. This is where linear scents come in!

The basic principle
The nuts & bolts of linear scents creation generally relies on composing using similar volatility materials: i.e. either all high volatility ones (which results in a very fleeting effect, comparable to old, traditional cologne, that is not usual in modern perfumery) or all low volatility ones (resulting in a very dense, thick effect; this is often the case with resinous and balsamic formulae). The idea of volatility as a compass into composition comes from perfumer Jean Carles who in "A Method of Creation in Perfumery" put volatility of materials as the key quality on how to evaluate an aromatic material. Hence his introduction of the "fragrance pyramid" as a tool into educating the public into how perfume composition works in the classic manner, thus popularly diving the notes (a "note" is the characteristic odor of a single material) into "top notes", "heart notes" and "base notes".  As we have already showcased, the fragrance pyramid, much as it is touted as the be all and end all of perfume construction in pop culture filling beauty mags & generic online sites for the uninitiated, is not the only way of composing a fragrance.

The diverse character and origin of linear scents
Linear scents don't necessarily comprise solely eaux de Cologne or thick, primeval orientals, as mentioned above, depending on volatility of materials alone. For instance APOM Pour Homme by Maison Francis Kurkdjian has a tenacity and scope beyond a classic Eau de Cologne, but the effect is the same from start to finish: a clear orange blossom freshness put on speakers. White Linen  by Lauder is another; the projection of soapy, waxy aldehydes is piercingly sweet, retaining the character throughout the duration of the scent's life on skin or cloth, even though the fragrance consists of several elements that are interwoven masterly. Eternity by Calvin Klein is another one, as is Alien by Thierry Mugler or Montaigne by Caron.  Some fragrances created by true perfumery masters such as Jean Claude Ellena are technically linear: Poivre Samarkande, Ambre Narguilé, Vetiver Tonka and Rose Ikebana, all Hermessences exclusive boutique scents and haute in both concept & marketing project linearly. So does the stellar Terre d'Hermes. More esoteric fragrances, boutique-circuit or niche, also exploit this technique: The delicious Tonka Impériale by Guerlain is another linear perfume, as is Philosykos by Diptyque. Even older fragrances composed with none of the modern linear aesthetic end up smelling almost the same from start to finish: Bandit by Robert Piguet, thanks to the utilization of "bases" by its perfumer Germaine Cellier, ends up on a rather uniform trajectory from the stupendous beginning to the impressive end.
Perhaps an important differentiation would be not to confuse "linear" with "flat"; linear scents can project volumetrically instead of multi-dimensionally, but they possess the technical skill to retain interest by their abstract main accord that elevates them from mere "imitation" of a smell into an arresting sensory assault.

The technical twist
By focusing on the evaporation process rather than the odor character, it becomes possible to create a fragrance that can essentially maintain a uniform composition as it evaporates. Where it becomes really interesting is that the evaporative weight losses of these aroma materials are proportional to their vapor pressures (the vapor pressure calculated by Raoult's law which states that the vapor pressure of true solutions is dependent on the proportion of each component in the blend). Therefore it is easier to achieve linearity if the materials used have similar vapor pressure. Of course this means that some odor types are more suitable for this exercise, thus rendering linearity often a compromise on olfactory quality for technical performance. You see, sometimes the complaints of fragonerds are not entirely out of place!

But how can the vapor pressure of materials be manipulated into behaving as desired? Simple, though not as easy as one might think: by changing the solvents. Carrageenan and chlorophyllin gel bases were previously used in scented products where linearity was crucial (such as home fragrances), creating a sort of gelatinous non evaporating surface upon application decreasing the fragrance release with time, though the addition of nonionic surfactants was necessary for the aromatics to become soluble in the gelatinous base itself. This is also one of the reasons why all natural perfumes are so rarely constructed linearly: the restrictions in use of materials and solvents makes for a tougher process into linearity; the raw materials themselves are full of nuance and they are often crystalline or viscous presenting solubility issues.

A variation on the linear scent is the "prism"/prismatic fragrance, whereupon you smell a humongous consistent effect all right, but when you squint this or that way, throughout the long duration, you seem to pick up some random note coming to the fore or regressing, then repeating again and again; a sort of "lather, rinse, repeat" to infinity. A good example of this sort of meticulously engineered effect is Chanel's Allure Eau de Toilette (and not the thicker and less nuanced Eau de Parfum) where the evolution of fragrance notes defies any classical pyramidal structure scheme. There are six facets shimmering and overlapping with no one note predominating.

In short, the engineering of a perfume is sometimes much more technically and intelligently labored than appears at first sniff. Linear scents are never "simple", so to speak. Preferring a perfume that takes you into a wave of highs peaks & low valleys of differing "notes" is not in itself the mark of connoisseurship that it is touted to be. Let's give the best of the linear scents out there their due and let's respect their stubbornness of character for what it is, rather than merely lack of merit or of complexity.

Which are your own favorite linear scents? 


pics via yoshagraphics.com, basenotes.net (posted by hedonist222)

Perfumer's Base: Animalis by Synarome

Largely unknown and thought of as coinnoisseur stuff, perfumers bases are simply ready-made "chords" of complimentary ingredients which create a unison effect for use when composing perfumes. It both aids with time constraints and it saves the trouble of having to reinvent a desired but tried& tested effect all over again, so the perfumer can concentrate on achieving something beyond the been there, done that. Legendary female perfumer Germaine Cellier, for reasons pertaining to both syllogisms, opted to compose with lots of perfumers' bases, resulting in a contemporary difficulty to replicate her formulae, as many of the ingredients for those bases or the bases themselves are now defunct or substituted. Nevertheless, some bases, such as the famous Mousse de Saxe base for Caron, the succulent peach base Persicol and the naughty Animalis by Synarome, have created their own history and have survived.

Perfume molecule producing company Synarome was founded in 1926 by Hubert Fraysse (of the prolific and renowned Fraysse clan) who created the famous speciality Ambrarome Absolu (a densely animalic chord reminiscent of natural ambergris). Nactis acquired Synarome in 2006, creating Nactis Synarome, who continue to provide fragrance compound specialties.

Synarome's most infamous classic "perfumer's base" though is Animalis, from which the term "animalic fragrances" has sprung; a feral, thick ambery yellow liquid, mostly insoluble in water but easily soluble in alcohol, with prominent civet and castoreum (both traditionally animal-derived products),  a cluster of musks and with costus root, a plant essence that has an uncanny resemblence to a mix of unwashed human hair, goat smell and dirty socks. The presence of phenolic-smelling, para cresol molecules also indicates a tannery tar & barnyard "stink". And yet he effect of the finished accord is envelopingly fur-like, powdery musky, warm, powerful, rich, decadent and yes, very animalic-smelling.

To get a feel for the classic accord, Animalis is featured in vintage Piguet's Visa, in all its "dirty" glory, created by Jean Carles (the man responsible for the skank-fest that is the classic Tabu, "un parfum de puta", a whore's brew). I also believe that Weil's Zibeline (a characteristic "parfum fourrure") features some of it in its core. Other vintages featuring lots of it is the rare Soft Youth Dew, one of two declinations of the classic Lauder Youth Dew in the 1970s (the other declination, the Intense Youth Dew was actually marketed later as... Cinnabar!, as per Octavian) and the less rare Mais Oui by Bourjois. It's also part of the mysterious urinous & musky allure of Kouros by Yves Saint Laurent (which indeed features a healthy dose of costus under phenyl acetate paracresol). But as much as it was favored during the classic era of perfumery, the traditional Animalis base fell out of favor in the middle of the 1980s.

Perfumery restrictions, which have axed the use of costus and eradicated the use of real animal ingredients, required a recalibration of the actual formula of Animalis, now allowed to be featured in up to 4% of the compound for perfume making. The base's stability has allowed it to not only be used in fine fragrance but also can be featured in shampoo, deodorant and creams. Modern Animalis perfume base includes 10-undecanal, linalool, alpha-pinene, β-Caryophyllene, limonene, heaps of cedrol and cedrene alpha. Mysteriously enough the final result ends up smelling animalic (smelling the fragrances containing it confirms this). The modern Animalis, animalic-smelling but without animal-derived ingredients, is featured in Vierge et Toreros by Etat Libre d'Orange and possibly the masculine Twill Rose by Parfums de Rosine.

For accuracy's sake, Synarome currently has not one but two distinct Animalis bases in their arsenal (the breakdown of ingredients above pertains to the first one): Animalis 1745-03 (which is Tonkin musk smelling, which is to say very warm, musky with a leathery nuance) and Animalis 5853 with woody & sensuous notes. The latest version of the former is Animalis 1745-03 TEC.
International Flavors & Fragrances (IFF) offers a similar competitive product, called Cherval, but that one is less cedary and even more powerful. 

It's interesting to note that Animalis has not only been used in oriental perfumes, as would be expected them being the quintessential sensuous, langoruous fragrances evoking sexy thoughts, but also in citrus fragrances to exalt their fresh notes by way of contrast.

photo by Willy Ronis 1970 Nu au tricot raye

Definition: Terpenic, Phenolic & Camphoraceous in Fragrances

Perfume vocabulary is diverse and often confusing. Therefore we have compiled an extensive reference on Perfume Shrine, analysing the various perfume terms applied by perfumers with examples of actual perfumes. Today's terms comprise some of the more "acquired taste" definitions on fragrant materials &finished compositions. More perfume jargon than marketing copy, the sheer force and almost visceral effect they have leaves no one indifferent.

copal with trapped insects (wikimedia commons)

If you haven't caught on the Perfumery Definitions series till now, please visit:

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

Terpenic, Phenolic and Camphorous are not terms you'd see brandished in a general discussion about fragrance or in the promotional material handed out by perfume companies. More smell-specific and objective definitions than subjective terms ~relating to appreciation rather than factual knowledge, such as sharp, soft, ambrosial, tart, pungent or zesty~ they form a cluster of nuances within a more general smell group, namely citrus, leather and green respectively. Let's see them one by one.

Terpenic: Perversely Fresh, Rosy Citrus with Hints of Turpentine
Terpenic comes from terpenes, a large and diverse class of organic compounds (ten carbon alcohols), produced by conifers (and a few insects) for protective reasons, as they are strong-smelling, reminiscent of turpentine. You're more familiar with terpenes than you think: The aroma and flavor of hops, a prime constituent in select beers, comes from terpenes. Vitamin A and squalene are also terpenes and so are their derivative.
In fragrances, however, the term is associated with conifer-deriving essences, particularly pine (which contains a-pinene and b-pinene alonside the combined molecule terpineol) and fir. Copal, a tree resin that is particularly identified with the aromatic resins used by the cultures of pre-Columbian Mesoamerica as ceremonially burned incense and other purposes, is also rather more acrid than most other resins (though resins can have terpenic facets, especially frankincense/olibanum) and therefore requires its own little footnote.

Various terpenes are present in a variety of plants emitting fresh scent: farnesol is present in many essential oils such as citronella, neroli, lemon grass, tuberose, rose, and tolu balsam; geraniol (which smells rosy in isolation) is the primary part of rose oil, palmarosa oil, and Javanese citronella oil; limonene is the dominant terpene in lemon peel. Citing these examples it's easy to see how terpenic stands for fresh & dry, bitter citrusy with a background of a petrol and winery note. Serge Lutens Fille en Aiguilles is a beautiful exaple that combines the terpenic facets of pine into a smooth base with sweeter elements. Caron's Alpona is a "dry as a bone", clean, refreshing and bitter rendition of the citrus peel note.

pine resin (wikimedia commons)

Phenolic: Tar-Like and Acrid
Phenolic comes from phenol (carbolic acid and phenic acid), an organic compound in white crystal form which possesses a very pungent, acrid, smoky scent that is very dry and can veer into tarry-smelling, even like bitumen and hot tarmac. Fitting considering that -like many perfumery ingredients- phenol was first isolated from coal tar. Tar came from the pyrolysation of pine trees and from peat. The latter is often used as a term to describe certain whiskeys (peaty tasting) and it's incomphrehensible to most who wouldn't dream how peat tastes like. But think of it as tarry and you're there!
Natural sources include tea, coffee and chocolate and yerba maté, but even fruits such as pomegranates and blackcurrant can be refered to as having phenolic facets (in the case of the fruits behind the tangy top notes); phenol is leaning into acidic rather than alcaline. In perfumery castoreum, birch tar and narcissus all exhibit their barnyard and smoky black tea tar-like facets in various fragrances.

Usually phenolic is a term we use to describe leathery fragrances, such as Chanel Cuir de Russie, Etro Gomma, Knize Ten, Bvlgari Black. The Chanel fragrance is an interesting example as it combines a de iuro resinous note (birch tar) with phenolic facets. Birch tar is poised to me between resinous and phenolic: rather think of phenolic as a sub-dividion of a more generalised resin group, much like terpenic is a more nuanced division under the citrus & resin groups.
A beautiful, truly "phenolic fragrance" that sets the example for this kind of thing is the scarce & super exclusive Eau de Fier by Annick Goutal. Another interpretation comes in leathery fragrances, especially hard-core ones, such as Lonestar Memories by Tauer Perfumes. Gaucho by Ayala Moriel takes the more yerba maté like note as its departure point in a fougère fragrance composition full of coumarin.
L'Artisan Parfumeur explores the leathery, phenolic facets of narcissus in their harvest fragrance Fleur de Narcisse. 

Vapor Rub via pos-ftiaxnetai.blogspot.com

Camphorous/Camphoraceous: Cool, Sharp Green
Seen with both spellings, the scent of camphor is familiar to us from common "moth balls" which utilize the white crystalls for moth repelling. However the cooling, sharp and pungent scent of camphor which triggers the trigeminal nerve in the nose (hence the intense repulsion it can produce to sensitive individuals) is also a constituent, small but very significant of certain fragrant plants: Eycalyptus and the camphor laurel (from which camphor is often derived, though not exclusively as it can be made synthetically as well) are the obvious suspects, but camphoraceous smells also include one end of the lavender essence spectrum (that medicinal top note, the other end is caramelic), patchouli and the top note of tuberose and gardenia.

This is why often such perfumes are curedly described as "smelling like moth-balls". They can also have positive connotations, memory associations with the smell of Vicks vaporub (or not, depending on how often and how much your parents used to use on you as a kid!).

The beautiful vibrancy that camphor brings to a composition can be seen in intense patchouli fragrances, as Clinique Aromatics Elixir or Voleur de Roses by L'Artisan Parfumeur, as well as some "modern classic" tuberose fragrances, such as Frederic Malle Carnal Flower and Gardenia Passion by Annick Goutal. Ylang ylang flower (cananga odorata) apart from the salicylates facet it has can also take camphorous nuances, as evidenced by another Goutal fragrance, Passion.

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

Definition: Creamy, Milky, Lactonic, Butyric in Fragrances

What does "creamy" mean to you in relation to fragrance? Is it the rich, sundae vanilla feeling you get while licking a cone, the thick yet refined taste of a bavaroise or is it the beachy tropical scent you get from a lush floral perfume? And what about lactonic? You hear this term brandished a lot, especially in relation to vintage fragrances, but where does it lead you? What does lactonic mean and how do you differentiate between it and "milky"? And, oh gods, where does "butyric scent" come into all of this? Let's try to define some confusing perfume terms on Perfume Shrine once again.

Creamy fragrances are more in reality more straight-forward than you'd expect: The term "creaminess" usually denotes a rich feeling, infused with silky, sensuous and lightly or more heavily sweet notes which may derive from soft vanilla, sandalwood, or coconut and sometimes from rich, lush florals that naturally have nectarous qualities, such as jasmine or honeysuckle. Vanilla in itself is usually described as creamy: Indeed Vanilla tahitensis pods have a complex odour profile, with notes of raisin, musk, cherry, lactones and anisic aldehydes.
Often tropical florals combine with coconut and coconut milk to produce that suntan lotion feel that we describe as "creamy". These would also fall under the umbrella of "exotic", as many people's vision of exotica is tan skin, dark almond shaped eyes and the scents that are exuded in meridians where leis are worn around the neck at all occasions. Delta jasmolactone exhibiting a coconut facet (and a creamy tuberose basenote as well) makes it a natural match for this sort of thing.
Fragrances of this type include Juste un Rêve by Patricia de Nicolai, Datura Noir by Serge Lutens, Champaca Absolute by Tom Ford Private Line, Gai Mattiolo Exotic Paradise LEI (coconut, vanilla and exotic flowers) and Jil Sander Sun Delight (with frangipani and vanilla). Ylang & Vanille in the Guerlain Aqua Allegoria line is a small gem of creamy floralcy: the naturally piercingly sweet scent of ylang is given a meringue treatment via fluffy vanilla and the eau de toilette concentration never allows it to become cloying or suffocating. Even the dicontinued Sensi by Armani was great in this game of uniting flowers with soft, tactile woods.

Almond fragrances when air-spun and given the dessert, gourmand treatment with lots of heliotropin, instead of the more medicinal bitter almond iterations (as in Hypnotic Poison by Dior), can fall under the "creamy, soft" spectrum as well: Try Heliotrope by Etro or the very friendly Cinema by Yves Saint Laurent. A popular choice in the genre is Comptoir Sud Pacifique's Vanille Amande. Their silky veil is soft, enveloping, tactile. When coupled with a lot of vanilla and some musk they can become almost a visible cloud around you, such as in Ava Luxe Love's True Bluish Light. On the same page, Lea by Calypso St.Barth is a cult choice and Sweet Oriental Dream by Montale (with its shades of loukhoum) is among the best in the niche line. Tilt the axis into woody-creamy and you get Sensuous by Lauder; a literal name for once.
An elegant version of this genre, holding the sugar at an optimum medium, is Eau Claire de Merveilles by Hermes; a more mainstream one Omnia by Bulgari. Men are not forgotten in this field: Pi by Givenchy and Rochas Man in the phallically siggestive rocket-bottle are great examples of creamy fragrances for men.

Among modern molecules, Methyl Laitone (patented by Givaudan, from "lait", French for milk) is a powerful aroma-material with a diffusive, milky, coconut-like coumarinic odour character. Its use as a milk note in soap formulae is now a given, but it also aids in providing a creamy scent to perfumes too.

It's detabateable whether creamy and milky are the same, though: The difference isn't just a game for scholars. The condensed milk sweetness and "fattiness" of certain gourmand fragrances, such as the latest caramelic benjoin-rich Candy by Prada, can evoke visions of both clotted cream and milk desserts and rice-puddings, melding the two notions into one. Jo Malone utilizes the cozy, familiar note of condensed milk in black tea in her Tea Collection Sweet Milk. Kenzo Amour goes the way of a rice pudding: it's lighter than a pannacota, and has a steamy rice note in there too. Organza Indencence by Givenchy has a custard-like base, sprinkled with cinnamon, while Saffran Troublant by L'Artisan Parfumeur is like a milk dessert hued a vivid crocus-yellow by saffron served in bowls dressed in sturdy suede. Flora Bella by Lalique hides a milky facet under the soft, clean, fabric-softener violet core, while Etro's Etra is a milky floral as pretty and polite as this genre gets.
Sandalwood from the Mysore region in India in particular is famous for having a rich, satisfying milky scent. But smell a pure sandalwood-focused fragrance, such as Santal Blanc by Serge Lutens and see how a "milky scent" can be subtler, drier, less sugary than "creamy"; more opalescent than fatty glistening. Contrast now with a heavy bad-ass sandalwood perfume (boosted by powerful synthetic Polysantol), such as Samsara by Guerlain, and you are at a crossroads: that one's creamy rather than milky, va va voom sexy and enhanced by the richness of jasmine. Smell a virile, masculine sandalwood, ie. Santal 33 by Le Labo and you're back at square one; not a hint of cream in sight. No single ingredient can sattisfyingly give the full effect, obviously.

Take things too far on the dairy scales and you end up with "butyric". The word comes from the Greek for butter: βούτυρον/butyron. Usually butyric smells are due to either a single molecule (butyric acid) or, in the case of butyric esters, to part of a molecule. Butyric refers to a sharp cheesy scent, reminiscent of parmesan cheese (or even vomit and really stale, stinky socks; take your pick!), but some butyric esters, such as ethyl 2 methyl butyrate which has a fruity facet like pear or apples, are used in perfumery (and in the flavouring industry as well). And yet, and yet... irony has a place in perfumery; it's the buttery taste of tuberose-drama-queen Fracas by Piguet that makes it the unforgettable classic that it is! 

"Lactonic" however is specific perfumery jargon. It's not just a descriptor, hence I differentiate. (Though the feeling can read as "milky" or "creamy" too, as you can see further on!) Picture  lactonic as a subgroup of the greater milky/creamy continent, reached through specific vessels (called lactones).
Lactonic fragrances derive their name from Latin for milk (lac, hence lacto- etc.), and lactones are cyclic esters, a very specific chemical compound group, uniting an alcohol group and a carboxylic acid group in the same molecule. Therefore describing a fragrance as "lactonic" transcedes mere smell evocation and enters the spectre of analytic chemistry.

Why the confusing name, then?

Because they're produced via the dehydration of lactic acid, which occurs in...sour milk (and is found also in some dairy products such as yoghurt and kefir etc). You could begin to see the connection if you get the brilliantly synthetic Rush by Gucci, a lactonic modern chypre rich in a patchouli-vetiver-vanilla base and squint just so; a hint of sourness is its crowning glory. This is also the weird baby-vomit "note" in the iconoclastic Le Feu d'Issey (possibly accounting for the fragrance's commercial flop!).
Far from smelling sour, however, lactonic fragrances fall under 2 main schools, according to which of the most popular lactones they're using: milk lactone/cocolactone (i.e. 5,6-decenoic acid) or peach lactone.

A classic example of the latter is Caron's Fleurs de Rocaille or Mitsouko by Guerlain; Mitsouko's infamous peach-skin heart note in particular is due to undecalactone (referred colloquially as "aldehyde C14"). Peach lactone can sometimes veer into coconut territory smell-wise, thus giving rise to "creamy" descriptors! Indeed gamma-nonalactone is the popular coconut additive in suntan lotion.
On the other hand, demethylmarmelo lactone has a milky, butter cake scent, as does delta decalactone which has facets of coconut.
Milk lactone or cocolactone has a silky, balsamic almost burnt butter odour which pairs exceedingly well with white flowers (jasmine, gardenia), as it is reminiscent of naturally occuring jasmolactones, hence its use in white floral blends. Dis-moi Mirroir, in the more esoteric Mirroir line by Thierry Mugler, is a characteristic example showcasing a white flower top (orange blossom) and a white floral heart (lily) plus peachy lactones (smelling of apricot and peach) flying over a milk lactone base, producing a milky-fruity floral.
Massoia lactone is an individual case, as it produces a note that is poised between woody and coconut; it is what will be featured in the upcoming Santal Massoia by Hermès in the more upmarket Hermessence line.

But not all lactones are created equal: the whole group of octathionolactones has a fungi smell, reminiscent of the refrigerated mushrooms aroma of some white flowers, such as gardenia and tuberose.These flowers also exhibit creamy facets side by side, so the whole issue of describing a fragrance is far more complex than expected; as with most things in life, it all depends on context and proportions!

Related reading on PerfumeShrine:  

If you haven't caught on the Perfumery Definitions series till now, please visit:

• Definition: Indolic vs. Non Indolic
• Definition: Phenolic, Terpenic, Camphorous
• Definition: Powdery & Dry in Fragrances
• Definition: Resinous & Balsamic
• Definition: Soapy in Fragrances
• Definition: Which Material Produces Which Note/Effect?

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Skin Scent: What is it, What's the Appeal and Top Skin Scents

"Skin scent" is a much brandished term among perfume cognoscenti, but what does it mean exactly? Usually its use revolves around two possible meanings: 1) A fragrance resembling the natural scent of one's skin, i.e. "my skin but better" (as in the ever popular "le no makeup look" or "your lips but better" shade in cosmetic parlance) It amplifies your own skin odour and reflects it back as the smell of soft, clean skin. Or 2) A fragrance that projects at such a low pitch that it melds with your natural smell and stays very close, so that only someone hugging you would be able to detect it.
Perhaps it's a bit of both, sometimes.




But why would this idea be so appealing? First of all, there would be the intimacy factor: There is something alluring and inwardly exciting about something theoretically public, which is there in the open, yet somehow delivered only to those who lean closer to discover it. Like the bearer of happy news who smiles a bit inside at the revelation that's about to happen. Secondly, it's often a mark of elegance and timely discretion: A skin scent does not affect co-workers that work a few cubicles away, or people in the subway, it keeps its manners at all times and yet ~if it's a good one lasting the whole day~ it whispers seductively to your lover when you get back home. There's something deeply satisfying about that.

Skin scents usually run the gamut of fragrance families and categories: There's nothing that prevents them from being florals or orientals "in the letter of the law", so to speak. The sun tan lotion note for instance is technically a tropical reference, usually married to wild white flowers, yet, fragrances sporting it aim to smell like your skin while sunbathing, therefore, like skin...Yet usually they veer into either soft woodies or humming muskies. Musk scents are naturally conceived to be smelling of warm human skin, so the association is self-evident. Another quirky category with lots of potential would be "mineral", abstract fragrances with a nuance of warm stones, sand, salt notes or ambergris.

Below, please find a selection of some of the best skin scents out there. Something out of those would satisfy the desire for such an animal. Highlighted links point to full fragrance reviews.

Woody skin scents:

Gaiac 10 by Le Labo

Wonderwood by Comme des Garcons

Poivre Samarkande by Hermès

In the library by CB I Hate Perfume


Musky skin scents:

Muscs Kublaï Khan by Serge Lutens

Clair de Musc by Serge Lutens

Narciso Rodriguez Musk for Her (oil parfum)

Nude Musk by Ava Luxe

No.18 by Chanel Les Exclusifs

Perfect Veil by Creative Scentualisation

Sienna Musk by Sonoma Scent Studio

Voyage d'Hermès by Hermès

L'Eté en Douce by L'Artisan Parfumeur


Mineral skin scents:

L'Eau Ambrée by Prada

Eau de Merveilles by Hermès

Eau de Gentiane Blanche by Hermès

L'antimatière by Les Nez

31 Rue Cambon by Chanel Les Exclusifs


Wild card skin scents (off category players):

Let me Play the Lion by Les Nez

Arsène Lupin Dandy by Guerlain Les Exclusives

Le Parfum de Thérèse by F.Malle

Sonia Rykiel Woman -not for men! Eau de Parfum by Sonia Rykiel

Vanille Insensée by Atelier Cologne

Nude by Bills Blass

Bronze Goddess/Azurée Soleil by Estee Lauder
These are the older sun tan lotion skin note "editions" in contrast to the new Bronze Goddess Soleil which is a tropical citrus.



Which is YOUR favourite skin scent?

Photo by Horst P.Horst "Odalisque" 1943. Stills from the film Last Tango in Paris and Satyricon.