Showing posts with label scent education. Show all posts
Showing posts with label scent education. Show all posts

Thursday, October 13, 2011

Guerlain Exclusive Fragrance Experience with Marie Line Patry

Guerlain is introducing a new in-store event that aims to give customers an
unexpected way of interacting with fragrance. 

Guerlain Exclusive Fragrance Experience with Marie Line Patry




Guerlain’s history as a perfumer is legendary, having created exquisite fragrances without interruption for more than 180 years. With nearly 800 compositions to its name, Guerlain is justly proud of its unsurpassed olfactory heritage, a rare collection representing the epitome of excellence, luxury and sophistication.
Beginning this fall, Guerlain will offer customers a brand new way to experience this unique heritage and fragrance expertise. National Fragrance and Beauty Director, Marie Line Patry, will host exclusive Fragrance Experience events in stores, debuting a luxurious, bespoke Guerlain trunk that houses a complete fragrance experience within its walls.  
The fragrance trunk is a multi-sensorial tool that will help bring to life each of the main pillars within Guerlain’s Exclusive Fragrance Collection. Marie Line can now take every customer on a journey to La Maison Guerlain at 68 Champs Elysées, through the brand’s history and deep into the legacy of craftsmanship and know-how that sets Guerlain apart from all other fragrance houses. The experience includes videos, music and elements that illustrate the perfumer’s inspiration for each of the creations. As each drawer is opened the customer is able to uncover an exceptional 360° view of the fragrance collection inside. At over five feet tall, it is a theatrical experience designed to heighten the senses and enhance the emotions we feel when we encounter a new fragrance. 
Marie Line Patry has an unparalleled ability to guide customers toward finding their perfect scent by using a thorough approach that involves learning about specific aspects of a person’s life in order to make this connection. Her approach matches a customer with a scent that both reflects and enhances their personality.
Guerlain’s fragrance history includes many pioneering firsts: the first modern fragrance with Jicky, the first oriental fragrance with Shalimar and now this unprecedented in-store experience with the Exclusive Fragrance Experience.

Tuesday, August 16, 2011

TopNotes: Scent Education at the Click of a Mouse by The Fragrance Foundation

A core mission of The Fragrance Foundation is its commitment to educate both the industry and the consumer about fragrance. Therefore, the Foundation is very pleased to announce the launch of TopNotes, an exciting new online educational course and resource developed specifically for those who want to keep on top of the most current information and trends in the ever-changing fragrance industry.


Mary Ellen Lapsansky, Vice President of The Fragrance Foundation and the guiding force behind the continuing education program notes that “both industry insiders and consumers who have a passion for fragrance will be able to able to keep their fingers on the pulse, tap into trends, scent styles, new notes and track top sellers with the TopNotes course. We have collaborated with the best minds in the business to deliver up to the minute and comprehensive insights.”

TopNotes was conceived to build on knowledge gained through the Certification Program for Fragrance Sales Specialists - justifiably considered the industry gold standard for fragrance education. Registration for TopNotes is $50.00 per person, open to all and all are welcome. The program cycle begins live online today with TopNotes Course #1: Olfactive Trends 2011 – 2012 and covers the following topics:

➢ Current Consumer Insights.
➢ Historical Reference & Current State of the Fragrance Industry.
➢ Why do olfactive preferences change among consumers?
➢ Historical references & key fragrance launches of the past.
➢ Women’s and Men’s Olfactive Preferences.
➢ Top 20 Fragrances, USA and Global, as reported by Givaudan iPerfumer.
➢ Future Olfactive Forecasts.
➢ Olfactively-significant recent fragrance launches.
➢ Women’s and Men’s olfactive forecasts.

At the end of the course, participants can further assess their understanding of what they have just learned by answering the “Key Learnings” questions. No scores are given, questions are either correct or incorrect with a correct answer provided if that is the case. Once the “Key Learnings” have been completed, a Certificate/Proof of Participation will be generated, available to save or print.
The content for each course will be updated every 12 to 18 months as new trends emerge.

Future TopNotes courses will cover: consumer buying habits, global fragrance preferences, new ingredients and new technologies in fine fragrance creation. TopNotes is a valuable new fragrance resource just a few quick clicks away at www.fragrance.org educational programs.
You can register at this link.

info via beautypress

Sunday, March 20, 2011

Perfumery Material: Osmanthus


Osmanthus fragrans (Sweet Osmanthus) or 桂花/ guìhuā in Chinese and金木犀/ Kinmokusei in Japanese is another member of the Oleaceae family (like olive or lilac) and its fresh and highly fragrant aroma is a natural wonder professing a nuanced texture. Also known as "Tea Olive" (because olive is the pre-eminent member of the Oleaceae family) it is the emblem flower of Hangzhou, China. It is especially valued as an additive for tea and other beverages in the Far East where usually the aromatic extract comes from the golden yellow flowers variety. This is because the variant Osmanthus fragrans Lour. var thunbergii has more carotenoids in its chemical make-up which contribute both to the sunnier colouring as well as the enhanced aroma.
The flowers are also used to produce osmanthus-scented jam (called guì huā jiàng)

Osmanthus absolute is an expensive raw material for the perfumer, but worth investing in due to its unique olfactory profile: Highly fragrant and succulent in its peachy-apricoty top note it is nothing short of mouthwatering. The effect of the natural flower is undoubtedly enhanced with a synthesized apricoty creamy note (benzylaldehyde, aldehyde C16, amyl butyrate), giving an almost velours effect. The essence of osmanthus naturally contains cis-jasmone (a white floral note), gamma-decalactone and various delta-lactones (peachy-milky notes) as well as several ionones derivates, which accounts for its violet-like sweetness.

Fragrances featuring a prominent osmanthus note:

Aubusson Desiderade
Aubusson Histoire d'Amour
Ayala Moriel Kinmokusei
Badgley Mischka by Badley Mischka
Bidjan DNA
Calvin Klein Escape
Davidoff Echo for women
Elizabeth Arden Sunflowers
Estee Lauder Beautiful Love
Escada Sunny Frutti
Fendi Theorema
Gap Dream
Givenchy L'Interdit (2003 re-issue)
Gucci Flora
Hermes Osmanthe Yunnan
Hove Tea Olive
Jean Patou 1000
Keiko Mecheri Osmanthus
Kenzo Jungle Le Tigre
Lancome Benghal (travel exclusive)
Marcela Borghese Il Bacio
Michael Kors by Micheal Kors
Narciso Rodriguez Narciso for Her (recreated note)
Nina Ricci Deci Dela
Oleg Cassini Cassini
Ormonde Jayne Osmanthus
Oscar de la Renta Volupte
Parfums d'Empire Osmanthus interdite
Providence Perfumes Osmanthus Oolong
Roger & Gallet Fleurs d'Osmanthus
Serge Lutens Datura Noir
The Different Company Osmanthus
Tous Touch

Ref: Sisido, K.; S. Ktirozumi, K. Utimoto and T. Isida, Fragrant Flower Constituents of Osmanthus fragrans

Photo of Osmanthus fragrans via jam343/flickr (some rights reserved)

Tuesday, March 1, 2011

Frequent Questions: Differences between Plumeria, Frangipani, Jasmine, Sampaguita & Pikake

In Oscar Wilde's The Picture of Dorian Gray, Lord Henry's wife's perfume leaves the scent of frangipani to linger in the room; the exact scent which troubled Jean des Esseintes, Huysmans's hero in À Rebours. "I guess he's just not the type that goes for jasmine perfume, but maybe he's what we need to mix with our blood now that we've lost Belle Reve", says Blanche Dubois to Stella about Stanley in A Streetcar Named Desire.
Frangipani, plumeria, jasmine, sampaguita, pikake...Although the above terms belong to roughly the same family of fragrant flowers, the olfactory profile of these delicious blossoms can be rather different, which necessitates a small guide into tracing their commonalities and differences.


Plumeria is the genus name for the more commonly used frangipani flower. While the botanist name comes ~as is usual in science~ from the 17th century French botanist Charles Plumier who studied the plant (indeed it's also spelled Plumiera), the common name is due to the Frangipani, a patrician Italian family of the 12th century famous for clashing with the papacy. The habit of scented leather gloves with jasmine, musk and civet became all the rage in the 16th century when Marie de Medici brought it into fashion in the French Court. Gilles Ménage quotes the trend in 1650 in his Les Origines de la Langue Françoise.
Allegedly it was the Marquis de Frangipani who invented the secret formula used to scent leather so as to divest it of the off smells of production; and when the flower was discovered later on, people recalled how the Frangipani Gloves smelled and attached the name to the plant in a reverse way of homage.
Frangipani literally means "breadbreakers" from the Italian phrase frangere il pane as the Middle Ages Italian family were known to distribute bread to the poor during a great famine; their crest is testament to that fact.

If you want to capture a snapshot of that wonderful tradition of scented gloves, indie perfumer Ayala Moriel has a fragrance called Frangipani Gloves, inspired by that very custom. Ormonde Jayne also makes a Frangipani Absolute fragrance with peachy sunny notes that know how to charm till the cedar-rich drydown. In fragrances the peachy note of gamma decalactone can boost the fleshy scent of varieties such as those of plumeria. Chantecaille's Frangipane on the other hand is a woodier, lighter scent which relies more on orange blossom than the intoxicating and rather "heavy" note of plumeria. Other plumeria fragrances include Plumeria by Terra Nova, En Fleur by Dawn Spencer Hurwitz, Vanile Frangipanier by Laurence Dumont and Frangipani delle Indie by Tesori d'Oriente.

Other cultures and religions, such as Hindu and Buddhist, associate frangipani with temples, thus giving rise to its christening of "the Temple Tree" in the English speaking part of Sri Lanka. Its potential for perfume inspiration due to the sweet, narcotic scent even permeated incense: tropical incense blends with plumeria inclusion have "champa" in their name, such as Nag Champa. In modern Polynesian culture, the frangipani can be worn by women to indicate their relationship status; over the right ear if seeking a relationship, and over the left if taken. The scent of plumeria can be said to be a cross between citrusy and buttery, the sweet nuance appearing almost culinary with a hint of cinnamon and a worthy addition to any garden thanks to its colourful bouquet and fragrant emissions.



Pikake belongs to the wide family of jasmines (Jasminum): It is a specific species of jasmine, jasminum sambac or Nyctanthes sambac (nyctanthes literally means night-blooming) used in Hawaii for lei's where the name is uniformely applied instead of jasmine. It had made a vivid impression on me, upon opening botany books as a student, to find out that pikake is an homage to the half-Scottish, half-Hawaiian Princess Victoria Ka’iulani, famous for her attachement to both peacocks (the Hawanized name for which is "pikake") and jasmine flowers. Writes Mindi Reid [1]
"In Hawai'i, the small, pale and fragile jasmine blossom is called by the same name as a vivid and grandiose bird: "pikake"- the peacock. The duality of this "Hawaiianized" English word is thought-provoking; in English, it is the bird - a visual image of color, shape, and texture that is evoked, while in 'Olelo Hawai'i (the Kanaka Maoli - indigenous native - language) it is the flower those syllables bring to mind - a matter of intense, emotion-kindling fragrance".
In Philipinnes where jasmine sambac is the national flower ~imported as far back as the 17th century from India~ it's called sampaguita. The Spanish sounding name derives from the Philipinno sumpa kita, meaning "I promise you"; it's easy to see how this highly fragrant flower stood for devotion and erotic loyalty! I remember from my travels how Thailand and Singapore, alongside their famous orchids, prize this green vine that emits such a strangely narcotic, almost fleshy smell...
Specificaly it is "Maid of Orleans" , a variety possessing flowers with a single layer of five oval shaped petals, which is commonly referred to as "Sampaguita" (or Philippine Jasmine). The same type with the difference that flowers have doubled petals (resembling mini roses) is also referenced by the names Grand Duke of Tuscan and Kampupot, a variety common in India. Jasmine sambac blossom is characteristically the one which is used in China to aromatize tea, resulting in a delicate and revered blend called simply "jasmine tea".

If you want to identify a fragrance with the intoxicating, sweet scent of pikake, you can try Child perfume oil; it's almost solely comprised of pikake, reprising the heady aroma of the white blossoms as they open in the warmth of the summer evening. Ormonde Jayne has a fragrance called Sampaquita [sic], which weaves a lightly aqueous balance between freesia & water lily and a citrusy fruity top via magnolia & lychee; the effect is one of soapy jasmine blossoms.
Annick Goutal Songes is one fragrance which combines both frangipani and jasmine sambac (sampaguita) alongside a big helping of ylang ylang, resulting in an orgy of white flowers on a vanillic base.

[1]Reid, M. (2003). An Icon of Two Selves: Remembering Hawai'i's Crown Princess, Victoria Ka'iulani

Frangipani blossoms and jasmine sambac photo via wikimedia commons

Three Cheers for Perfume Chemistry

Much as perfumery has often been the marketing story of virgins amassing jasmine petals at the crack of dawn in endless emerald fields on exotic lands (and it is a lovely image), some synthetic molecules created in the lab have irrevocably revolutionized the fragrance industry as we know it: Hedione, Galaxolide and Calone for instance have left a footprint as big as the Yeti’s in modern perfumery, accounting in some cases for a big percentage within a formula in and of themselves (see Trésor and Cool Water or the odd case of Dune for instance ~also the iconic fragrances touched by hedione).


Sometimes these molecules were arrived at years before they were popularised in mainstream compositions the consumer buys off the counter today: Calone for instance, which catapulted the "marine scents" trend in the 1990s, was patended as "Calone 1951" in as early as 1966 by the pharmaceuticals collusus Pfizer. Sometimes, on the other hand, new molecules are the very reason why specific styles of fragrances multiply like Gremlins: see the recent cases of Ambrox and synthetic oud.

Damascones and ionones have brought their own particular challenges and risk-taking through the course of the 20th century, ending in beautiful specimens (examples include Nahéma, Féminité du Bois, Nombre Noir). I have always had a soft spot for nitromusks myself, which I absolutely love in vintage creations due to their intimate and warm character, but of course science and the industry go on and we must adapt with the times...

I like to think that we’re upon a Brave New World in which the not-forgotten old artistry of naturals alongside the sleight of hand, that relies in the proper dosage of synthetics, will produce astounding and unprecedented results: Safraleine is a beautiful example, exactly because it brings on both spicy and subtly leathery facets to the fore with a restrained hand. We’re seeing a new sophisticated generation of aqueous and “ozonic” molecules too, away from the obvious “watermelon slap” of Calone: Scentenal (Firmenich), Cyclemone A and Floralozone (both IFF); for instance the latteris featured in otherwise earthy Vétiver Extraordinaire in Editions des Parfums Frederic Malle, where it juxtaposes freshness to the mustiness of the grass.

Alternatively, in some cases, modern technology aims to replicate retro effects which we used to miss due to depletion of the original and shortage of technical solutions. Let me mention some examples:
White Moss is an IFF patent to create a green-mossy accord at the base of some nouveau chypres such as Lauder’s Private Collection Jasmine White Moss. I think it’s an excellent addition to IFF's already impressive stable as it manages to bypass the “problem” of oakmoss restrictions (as inflicted by the industry-self-regulating body IFRA) while at the same time smelling as a proper green chypre base-accord should (comparable to the original Cristalle for instance).
Jovanol by Givaudan is creating the creaminess and intense lasting power which we had come to associate with the “creaminess” of sandalwood, its lactonic facet ~perfume speak for that warm, milky cozy, cuddly effect that older Orientals and woody fragrances with a preponderance on Mysore sandalwood used to have. The anisic note which we have come to associate with anisaldehyde and retro effects such as those in L'Heure Bleue is given new lease by Givaudan's captive Toscanol (which is in its turn substitutes the similar chavanol), used to mollify lavender compositions. And who can disregard Cashmeran, that tactile "cashmere woods" note embraced so lovingly by both mainstream fragrances (DK Cashmere Mist, Alien by Mugler, CKin2u, Fleur de Cristal by Lalique) as well as niche (The Beautiful Mind series Intelligence & Fantasy)? Its encompassing woody-musky-soft and sensual profile makes it a passe-partout ingredient.

I like one small detail about musks in particular, how the newest mascrocyclic Cosmone by Givaudan (a warm musk with a nuance of ambergris, smell in DelRae's Panache for instance) is taking on the expanse and beauty of the Cosmos to graft it unto its name. One better from the previous Galaxolide which was also astro-inspired in regards to nomenclature! And the ironic touch that it’s used in a fragrance bearing such a cunning name as Pi Neo, which means "new" in Greek. Isn’t perfumery dreamy?

picture of perfumer at Lever Laboratories in New Jersey, c.1950 via howstuffworks.com

Thursday, February 24, 2011

Perfumery Material: Hedione (Luminous/Transparent Jasmine)

 Smelling hedione, I'm struck by its beautiful, limpid and luminous character which resembles the beautiful citrusy floral note of a magnolia blossom blossoming under sunny skies.
Hedione or methyl dihydrojasmonate is an aromachemical (patented as Hedione by aroma-producing company Firmenich) that is often used in composition in substitution for jasmine absolute, but also for the sake of its own fresh-citrusy and green tonality.

Hedione lacks the clotted cream density of natural jasmine, recalling much more the living vine in the warmth of summer mornings and for that reason it is considered a beautiful material that offers quite a bit in the production of fine perfumes.

Perfumer Lyn Harris, nose of the brand Miller Harris and also the independent nose behind many well-known creations not credited to her name, calls it “transparent jasmine” and attributes to it the capacity to give fizz to citrus notes much “like champagne”. (See? it’s not only aldehydes which do that!)

According to Christian Chapuis of Firmenich SA, Edouard Demole discovered methyl jasmonate in 1957, accomplished a synthesis of Hedione (from the Greek word ηδονή/hedone, meaning agreeable and pleasant) in 1958, synthesized methyl jasmonate in 1959, placed both materials under intellectual protection in 1960, and published these discoveries in 1962. "This simple timeline belies a more complex history of chemistry and creation".
First used in the classic men’s cologne Eau Sauvage, composed by Edmond Roudnitska in 1966, hedione had been isolated from jasmine absolute and went on to revolutionize men’s scents with the inclusion of a green floral note. Eau Sauvage was so successful that many women went on to adopt it as their own personal fragrance leading the house of Dior to the subsequent introduction of Diorella in 1972, composed by the same legendary nose, blending the green floral with hints of peach, honeysuckle, rose and cyclamen in addition to the herbal citrusy notes of the masculine counterpart, all anchored by a base of cool vetiver, patchouli and oakmoss, lending a mysterious, aloof and twilit air to women who went for it.

Ten years after its introduction to perfumery, in 1976, it was the turn of Jean Claude Ellena to coax hedione in a composition that exploited its fresh and lively character to great aplomb in the production of First by jewelry house Van Cleef & Arpels (the name derived from the fact that it was their first fragrant offering, but also the first scent to come out of a jeweler too ~subsequently many followed in its tracks with notable success). In it, Ellena used 10 times the concentration of hedione used in Eau Sauvage, married to natural jasmine as well as rose de mai (rosa centifollia, which is also a "crystalline" variety), narcissus, orris, ylang ylang and a hint of carnation with the flying trapeze of aldehydes on top and the plush of vetiver, amber and vanilla at the bottom which accounted for a luminous and luxurious floral.

Hedione also makes a memorable appearance in many other perfumes, such as the classic Chamade by Guerlain (introduced in 1969), Chanel no.19 (1970) and Must by Cartier (1981) and in many of the modern airy fragrances such as CKone, Blush by Marc Jacobs, the shared scent Paco by Paco Rabanne or ~surprisingly~ in the bombastic Angel by Thierry Mugler, in which it is used as a fresh top note along with helional! Perhaps if you want to feel it used in spades smell L'Eau d'Issey by Issey Miyake: the aquatic/ozonic notes cannot hide its radiance.
Its uses are legion, especially since it acts as a supreme smoothener of the rest of the ingredients. In Terre d'Hermes, perfumer Jean Claude Ellena uses lots of it to bring out the softer side of hesperidic bergamot and to fan out the woodier aspects.

High-cis Hedione is an isomer which gives a jasmine tea profile (not surprisingly, as the component naturally occurs in tea), more diffusive and less floral and thus useful in masculine blends, but it costs more than regular hedione and poses problems of stability in acidic environments. Some of the Bulgari "tea" scents, such as Bulgari Eau au Thé Rouge and Bulgari Eau au Thé Blanc are good reference points if you want to smell this in action.
Despite hedione's unlikeness to natural jasmine absolute and essential oil (which are much lusher, narcotic and indolic), perfumers have used it to supreme results in the history of fine fragrance of the last 40 years, occassionaly using it up to 35% concentrations, although it's more usual to be featured in ratios of 2-15%.

Related reading on Perfume Shrine: Perfumery Materials, The Jasmine Series

pic of jasmine via Gracemagazine. Bottle of First via zensoaps.com

Wednesday, February 23, 2011

Perfumery Material: Coumarin, Tonka Bean & the Fougere accord

Open any perfume guide with fragrance "notes" or any online discussion or blog post on perfume description and you're bound to stumble on coumarin; one of the most common materials in many fine fragrances but also several body products, cosmetics and functional products. Its rich history goes back to the beginnings of modern perfumery in the late 19th century, bringing us right at the moment of the nascent concept of perfumery as a mix of organic chemistry and nature's exploitation. Coumarin as such is a synthesized material in most perfumes, but it's also found in abundance in natural products, such as tonka beans (Dipteryx odorata) where it is the principle aromatic constituent (1-3%). In fact the name derives from "cumaru", an Amazonian dialect name for the Tonka bean tree.


  • Origin & function of coumarin
Chemically, coumarin is a benzopyrone (1-benzopyran-2-one) which, apart from tonka beans, also occurs naturally in vanilla grass (Anthoxanthum odoratum), sweet woodruff (Galium odoratum), sweet clover (Meliotus L.), sweet grass (Hierochloe odorata) and cassia cinnamon (Cinnamomum aromaticum) among other species. In short, it's rather sweet, as you might have surmissed by now, and evokes cut grasses. You'd be correct to assume both facts, but that's not all: Although coumarin in perfumery does add a certain sweet note of mown hay or freshly cut grass with vanilla overtones, it's really bitterish in flavour in high concentrations (its -now banned- inclusion in food would attest that). Therefore theorizing its plant origin one would assume it's produced by plants in order to defend themselves from predation. After all it's also present in cherries, strawberries, and apricots, prime targets for birds. You might have even seen it featured in your rodent pesticide: don't be alarmed (coumarin is included in miniscule quantities in foodstuff anyway), but now you know why!
  • History of coumarin discovery & synthesis
Natural perfumers used and continue to use tonka bean absolute and tonka in powder form, as well as deer's tongue, a herb with brittle leaves to render a coumarin note. But the story of coumarin is largely one of organic chemistry. The component was isolated by A.Vogel in 1820, but the laboratory synthesis of coumarin first happened in 1868 from coal tar by W.H.Perkin (who gave his name to "the Perkin reaction" used to produce it). It took another year to produce it in an industrial scale at Haarmann & Reimer. The consequent memorable inclusion of synthesized coumarin in Jicky (Guerlain 1889) and earlier in Fougère Royale (Houbigant 1882) was the kickstart of a whole new fragrance family: the fougère, thanks to Paul Parquet's composition for Houbigant. Fougère Royale contained a staggering 10% coumarin of the finished formula! How one can dream a bit while reading Guy de Maupassant describing this fragrance as "prodigious evocation of forests, of lands, not via their flora but via their greenery"...
  • The Fougere fragrance family
Fougère fragrances evoke the smell of ferns at least as we imagine them to be, as by themselves they don't have a particularly noticeable odour (Paul Parquet said that if they could, they'd smell of Fougere Royale). But the concept of a scent that is herbaceous, infused with aromatic lavender ~a popular material for both sexes at the end of the 19th century thanks to its propriety in the "clean" sense of the world~ and which leaves a malleable, soft, enveloping, yet discreet aura on the wearer was lacking: The era was still using the Victorian soliflores. Funnily enough, even those had their own categorisation; violets or roses for the respectable lady, jasmine and tuberose for the courtesan. Fougère scents were on the cusp between approved and revolutionary, creating a very desirable pull.
The other principle constituents in the accord are lavender and oakmoss: It was only natural; lavender by itself contains coumarin in its aromatic makeup. Thus the triad comprising the main accord of the rising fougère (i.e.lavender-oakmoss-coumarin, played together like a musical chord) made coumarin itself quite popular: many classic or influential masculine colognes owe their character to it, starting of course with Jicky and continuing with Azzaro pour Homme (1978), Fahrenheit by Dior (1988), Dolce & Gabanna pour homme (1994), and Gucci pour Homme (2003).
From there coumarin infiltrated its way into many modern fragrances belonging in other families. But it was its pliability and usefulness, like a trusty Swiss knife, which made it the perfumers' darling: Are there more contrasting fragrances than the icy aldehydic Rive Gauche (YSL 1970) and the intense floral Amarige (Givenchy 1991)? Perfumers tell me that coumarin ends up in some degree in 90% of all fragrances; and in concentrations exceeding 1% it accounts for over half of the fragrances in the market!!
  • The odour profile of coumarin
Coumarin is a water-insoluble crystallized powder which has an odour that is pleasant, soft and warm, evoking cut grass or new mown hay, but it's more complex than that; it sometimes even veers into a smell of fresh paint! This is what gives Jicky its bracing almost "petrol" opening which alienates some people. Originally biosynthesized via hydroxylation, glycolisis and cinnamic acid cyclization, nowadays coumarin is produced via more sophisticated techniques.
Coumarin conjures warm notes of tobacco (useful in masculine formulae) and because it also has caramel overtones, alternatively it can be married to vanillic components (such as vanilla, benzoin or some of the other oriental balsams, such as Tolu balsam or Peru balsam, as well as ethylvanillin) in order to play down and sophisticate their foody aspects: see it in action in orientals such as the discontinued Venezia by Laura Biagotti, Lolita au Masculin(Lempicka) or Casmir by Chopard.
In dilution coumarin projects with soft hazelnut or almond facets underneath the hay, even licorice; smell Lolita Lempicka (1997). But in higher concentration it also has spicy fresh and herbaceous facets, no doubt reminiscent of its primary role in different grasses. In combination with vanillin and bergamot, we're veering into chypre territory: Elixir des Merveilles is a no man's land with its chypre tonalities and gourmand facets.
Its versatility and its ability to "fix" smell and make it last longer allows coumarin to enter amber or woody blends (witness Samsara or Vetiver by Guerlain) as well and even heighten the appeal of spicy materials: in fact it marries very well with cinnamon or clove. Pi by Givenchy is a sweet spicy woody with lots of tonka bean, or smell L de Lolita Lempicka by Maurice Roucel. Usually, indeed coumarin is mentioned in the form of tonka beans in the traditional lists of "notes"/pyramids for fragrances (see this Index for more ingredients contributing to which "note") but it can also hide underneath grassy notes, clover, lavender, or tobacco. Modern perfumers pair it with synthetic woody-amber notes such as Kephalis and Iso-E Super to surprising results. A wonderful material indeed!
  • Fragrances featuring discernible amounts of coumarin
Addict (Dior)
A*men (Thierry Mugler)
Amarige (Gievnchy)
Angel ~all concentrations, esp. extrait de parfum(Thierry Mugler)
Angel Sunessence (T.Mugler)
Angel La Rose (T.Mugler)
Antidote (Victor & Rolf)
Azzaro pour Homme (Loris Azzaro)
Azzaro Elixir Bois Precieux (L.Azzaro)
Blue Jeans (Versace)
Bois des Iles (Chanel)
Brit (Burberry)
Chic for Men (Carolina Herrera)
Coco (Chanel)
Coco Mademoiselle (Chanel)
Contradiction (Calvin Klein)
Etoile de Rem (Reminiscence)
Fahrenheit (Dior)
Fieno (Santa Maria Novela)
Fougere Royal (Houbigant)
Florissa (Floris)
Gloria (Cacharel)
Jasmin Noir (Bulgari)
Jicky (Guerlain)
Joop! Homme (Joop)
Kouros (Yves Saint Laurent)
Lavande (Molinard)
L de Lolita Lempicka
Lolita Lempicka (L.Lempicka)
Le Male (Jean Paul Gaultier)
Musc (Molinard)
Navy (Lily Bermuda)
Pi (Givenchy)
Rive Gauche (YSL)
Samsara (Guerlain)
Tonka Imperiale (Guerlain)
Venezia (Laura Biagotti)
Versace pour Homme (Versace)

Related reading on Perfume Shrine: Perfumery Materials one by one

source of coumarin pic via The Health Nut Corner, ad for Houbigant via Punmiris and Jicky collage via Perfumesbighouse

Monday, February 7, 2011

Mapping the Vocabulary of Scent: What Smells like Nail Polish/ Metal/ Sweat/ Horses/ Hairspray/ Burnt Toast/ Baby Powder/Dirty Socks etc?

When testing fragrances, the average consumer is stumped when faced with the ubiquitous list of "fragrance notes" given out by the company. That they do not accurately reflect actual essences or oils entering the composition is a given: Safraleine does not mean anything to the casual buyer, whereas they're familiar with the smell of saffron possibly or the nuance of leather goods, so the "fantasy" copywriting is preferred for all the obvious reasons. But how can in turn the consumer decipher which "notes" appeal or displease in any given perfume thus? "This smells weird and dry, must be the mastic note" comments one, while another says "I sense it as fluffy, could it be the heliotrope?" When in front of an aromatic stanza, one is often at a loss to describe in words the feelings evoked. But the feelings and associations are undeniably there, so an articulate, knowledgeable vocabulary is sorely missing, in part due to the secrecy of the industry and in another due to the limited scope that smell has on our language. Even perfumers themselves could benefit from translating the impressions of people into a concrete transliteration in perfumery terms. In short, which perfumery ingredients give which effect in any given formula? Let's see the most popular queries in alphabetical order and their explanation in a short guide on Perfume Shrine.


Baby powder/talc smell: Usually based on white musks (see this article on classification/perception of musks and that one on synthetic musks) or orange blossom. The latter due to its ubiquitous use in baby products, imparting a feeling of both freshness and tenderness. For reference the actual Johnson's Baby Powder has traditionally relied on the combination of citrus-vanilla-lavender.

Banana note: A natural facet of some white flowers (particularly jasmine sambac or ylang-ylang), when the effect is an unripe, green banana, unpeeled. It's also common when there is a lot of benzyl acetate in the formula, which is in turn naturally found in jasmine, ylang ylang and tobira blossoms.

Band-Aid note: Usually a synthetic "oud/aoudh" base is responsible for this weird, medicinal effect. 

Blood/metallic note: Due to 1-octen-3-one. Has an odour that is a cross between metallic blood and mushroom (see "cepes" notes in perfumery). Blood can be evoked via two aldehydes as well: decanal and nonenal.

Body Odour: see Sweat below

Caramel note: Usually a combination of vanillic notes (real vanilla pod orchid essence or vanillin).

Bad breath note: Usually caused by trimethylamine, fishy in low concentration, ammoniac in higher. (see also Fish note). Sulfurous notes from grapefruit in scent might also "read" as a bad breath note or body odour. Methanethiol (methyl mercaptan) is a constituent of bad breath and has a fecal scent (it is indeed found in flatus and in "asparagus urine", i.e. urine after eating asparagus).

Barnyard note: Usually there is a strong animalic note such as civet/civetone as well as indolic notes via jasmine or other white flowers. The horse note can be produced by presence of p-Cresol (a phenol) as well. A little hay (as in Chergui by Serge Lutens, the closest to natural hay absolute on the market) adds to the impression of a proper barnyard. L'Air de Rien for Miller Harris is a good example of "barnyard" scent via "dirty musks" and animalic notes.

Bread note: Due to 2-Acetyl-1-pyrroline (this is present in pandanus) and to lesser degree 6-Acetyl-2,3,4,5-tetrahydropyridine.

Cabbage note: Due to Methanethiol (also known as methyl mercaptan). Naturally occuring in nuts and cheese.

Cardboard/Old Books note: Due to salycilates (see more info)/"solar notes" and vanilla (the decomposition of wood pupl's lignin ~ a close relative to vanillin~ over time produces that effect natually in old books). Smell Dzing! by L'Artisan Parfumeur.

Cat Pee note: That intense ammoniac spray is due to blackcurrant buds, which have both butyric and sulfuric facets.

Celery note: Due to vertofix, a IFF molecule (methyl cedryl ketone) which smells like vetiver/leathery. It can therefore hide as "vetiver" and musky notes in a fragrance notes pyramid.

Cheese note: Butyric notes, like rancid butter (from βούτυρον/butyron, ie. butter in Greek), coupled with animalic notes such as civet/civetone. Frequent in some intense white florals.

Cotton-Candy (US)/Candyfloss (UK) note: Due to ethylmaltol, as famously used in Angel and Pink Sugar.

Cut grass: A sweet and green scent, usually due to triplal/ligustral (smelling like ligustra leaves) and coumarin (a material naturally found in tonka beans, as well as woodruff, sweet clover and cassia cinnamon). Also cis 3 hexenol smells like grass and is very common.

Curry note: Usually a combination of spices, one of which has to be cumin. It also includes coriander and sometimes "dirty" musks. See L'Autre by Diptyque.

Dentist's office: Cloves, cloves and cloves again! Dentists use clove for its naturally antiseptic properties. Several older Caron fragrances have a clove-y base and most carnation scents are traditionally built on a pepper and clove accord.

Detergent/Fabric Softener note: A great quantity of synthetic musks, especially "white musks" (see index) due to their ubiquitousness in detergents & fabric softeners thanks to their hydrophobicity (i.e. they rinse poorly and thus stay on clothes for long, which is the desired effect by the functional products industry). Cheap ambers such as Cetalox are also used in functional fragrances (i.e detergents), so presence in a fragrance can also give the association of laundry day. If the effect is acrid, it could be also due to dihydromercenol (the ingredient in many fresh aquatic men's colognes, see Davidof's Cool Water for instance) or lily of the valley. Lily of the valley (in the form of synthetics) is commonly used in detergents for the home as well as toilet cleaners thanks to its fresh, clean, green-floral aroma: witness Ajax White Flowers floor cleaner, which replicates the effect to a T.

Doll's Head: A combination of vanillin alongside heliotropin in smaller dose.

Earth (wet) note: This can be due to patchouli being dominant. Also patchouli coupled with oakmoss, but then the note is dryer and more bitter.

Feces/Fecal note: Usually due to indole (a constituent of white flowers, especially jasmine).

Felt-tip pens/markers: This is an effect of p-Cresol. Usually it's done in a "dry" context.

Fish note: There must be a trimethylamine note in there somewhere. At high concentrations, it can be ammoniac-smelling.

Fruity hard candy: Veltol gives a note of berries and caramel-like nuance(it increases the caramel effect and reduces the off cooked butter notes). It increases "creaminess" in both flavours (in lite products especially) and fragrances. You might also find Veltol in chocolate fragrances due to its creaminess.

Fuel oil/diesel: Cis 3 hexenol gives such an effect sometimes, although usually it's producing a green-grassy effect. Consider methyl benzoate as well, as evidenced in the opening of Jicky and Tubéreuse Criminelle.

Garbage note: The sickly sweet smell of rotting flesh/foodstuff is evoked by methyl anthranilate. Naturally found in bergamot, black locust, champaca, gardenia, jasmine, lemon, mandarin, neroli, orange, strawberry, tuberose, wisteria, galangal and ylang ylang. Of course the real corpse smell is due to two other compounds, not used in fragrances, cadaverine and putrescine.

Gas (natural) note: Although gas is primarily constisting of methane, it is the added compound tetrahydrothiophene which gives it its characteristic unpleasant rotten eggs odour.

Glue: This smell is a combination of heliotropin (synthetic heliotrope note with a marzipan facet), coumarin or anisic aldehyde. Styrax also has a faint glue aroma that reads as cinnamon-spicy.

Grape/Kool Aid note: Grape-fruity (concord grapes) is evoked thanks to methyl anthranilate. Dimethyl anthranilate is used to flavour Kool Aid. You might see this masked as a fruity note (berry) in perfumes. Sometimes has musty facets.

Greens bitter: Some pyrazines are responsible: 2-methoxy-3-isobutyl-pyrazine is the main flavour constituent of green bell peppers. Methoxy-methyl-, -ethyl- or-isopropyl-pyrazine increases the potato flavour of a potato salad while 2-methoxy-3-sec.butyl-, 2-methoxy-3-isobutyl- and 2-methoxy-3-isopropyl pyrazine appear in peas.
On the other hand, 2-methoxy-3-sec.butylpyrazine has been isolated from galbanum oil and has its characteristic bitter green odour profile.

Hair (dity) note: The culprit is costus root (do not confuse with cistus labdanum which has a leathery-ambery smell). Now restricted from perfumery, it is quite common in vintage perfumes (see Fille d'Eve by Germaine Cellier for Nina Ricci)

Hairspray note: Usually due to benzyl acetate. Among hairspray brands, some further aromatize their product with other aromata: L'Oreal Elnette hairspray for instance is particularly musky (in a pleasant ~to me at least~way)

Honey note: Either due to natural beeswax absolute in natural perfumery or -more commonly- due to mimosa & cassie absolute as well as cinnamic acid (used in the manufacturing of the methyl, ethyl, and benzyl esters for the perfume industry), which has a floral nuance to its honeyed note. Smell L'Instant by Guerlain in Eau de Parfum.

Horses note: see Barnyard note above

Leeks note: See Cabbage.

Melon/Watermelon note: Usually rendered by the immensely popular in the 1990s Calone aromachemical. (technically: methylbenzodioxepinone) . Unmistakeable, you know it well from Eau d'Issey and Aqua di Gio.

Metal/Cold Air note: Often due to helional, giving an impression of ringing cold air in some Northern steppe. Luca Turin describes it as "sucked silver spoon".

Mold/musty note: Dominant "dusty" variations of patchouli, sometimes coupled with carrot seed (which has a turnip-iris effect by nature). It can also surface in some incense variations with patchouli, such as in Messe de Minuit by Etro. Methyl anthranilate also might play a role, in the context of grape-fruity.

Mushroom note: See also Blood (1-octen-3-one) and look out for it in some gardenia compositions.

Nail polish note: Usually due to benzyl acetate, naturally found in white flowers.

Nail polish remover note: Due to methyl acetate.

"Old-lady" note: Due to powdery notes alongside woody ones or aldehydes (see more on types of aldehydes on this link). Too much iris can also give that effect in certain contexts due to its dryness. This is purely a cultural effect, because these happened to be popular smells in decades past, whose wearers are now "older ladies"! (For this controversial can of worms, read this essay).

Peach: Often due to gamma-Decalactone (referenced as C14 aldehyde, famously featured in Mitsouko). Peachy-apricoty scents can be rendered through jasmolactones too, and are actually preferred due to their fatty-creamy aspect.

Pear drops note (UK boiled sweet): A similar smell is found in ethyl acetate, a very evnescent, low-cost liquid used in perfumes as diluent and a common solvent in nail polish removers and decaffeinated coffee beans & tea leaves. It's worthy of note that it's the most common ester in wine, so the mental pear-wine link aromatically is not without cause.

Play-Doh note: Common lore wants it to be similar to heliotropin/heliotrope notes (affectionately referenced in iconic L'Heure Bleue by Guerlain). Etro's Heliotrope is a good example of this in action. I suggest that the modeling clay note is more wheat-almondy in nuance, a bit like marzipan but saltier, not classic Guerlain. Compare with Hypnotic Poison by Dior or Jaipur by Boucheron. Such a beloved, nostalgic note that it has entered a seperate creation by Demeter, simply called...Play Doh!

Pop-corn note: Due to 6-Acetyl-2,3,4,5-tetrahydropyridine, a common flavour used in pop-corn and tortillas.

Rice steam/basmati rice/jasmine rice note: Rendered through 2-Acetyl-1-pyrroline, a common flavouring in said products.

Rice powder/facial powder note: Often due to iris (either due to natural orris butter or violet-like ionones) as well as mimosa.

Rosy apple note: Due to damascones, materials analogous to ionones (which smell of violet/iris). Smell Knowing by Lauder or Coriandre by Jean Couturier to see them in action.

Tar: Due to phenols. Phenolic smells simply refer to tarry ones! Please note that "birch tar" is the pungent, leathery scent associated with Cuir de Russie type of scents (explanation on what Russian Leather scents are here).

Toast/Burnt note: This is due to pyrazines, compounds present in foodstuffs (see Greens Bitter above). Alkoxy- and/or alkylpyrazines can be added to coffee to increase the roast aroma, as well as other roasted foods (even meat).

Tomato note: Due to triplal (green leafy aroma) being overdosed, also green notes/cis 3 hexenal (similar with grassy greens).

Salty skin: Beautifully rendered through natural ambergris. Nowadays often replaced by synthetics.

Socks (dirty) note: Usually due to the presence of costus. Costus being restricted in current perfumery, this will be less and less a concern. The effect is apparent however in several vintage perfumes.

Suntan oil/tanning lotion/warm sand: If the fragrance or cosmetic has a floral-warm odour like the classic Ambre Solaire, sthis is due to salicylates (see this article for info on salicylates). Ylang ylang naturally contains them. You might also find this effect under "solar notes" in a traditional list of accords. If smelling of coconut, the classic Coppertone smell, it's due to gamma-Nonalactone (aldehyde C18) which is traditionally used in suntan lotions.

Sweat note: Common lore wants cumin to smell like sweat, but this is debateable as attested through research (Sweat has naturally sulphurous compounds, such as garlic, grapefruit and onion). Refer to Barnyard and Socks notes as well.

Urinal cake: Due to dihydromercenol (see also Detergent note).

Urine note: Phenylacetic acid is infamous for smelling like honey in large concentrations and urine in dilution. Miel de Bois by Serge Lutens is derisive for a reason...

Warm milk/warm pudding notes: A combination of vanillic notes, possibly with veltol or ethylmaltol if it reminds one of puddings or desserts off the oven. Saffron and mimosa also have some facets which are reminiscent of these, perhaps due to associations with edible notes.

Wine notes: Since ethyl acetate is the most common ester in wine, its presence in a perfume formula (which is common) evokes a wine-like effect (also see Pear drops). Some rose essences also have wine-y facets; witness Ce Soir ou Jamais by Annick Goutal.


There are also some more abstract effects which are caused by specific ingredients
:
The "nose-hairs burning" effect is often due to synthetic woody-ambers, such as Ambroxan or Karanal, which smell like strong rubbing alcohol when in isolation. The "needles up the nose" effect (very sharp feel) can be due to lots of aldehydes in a very alkaline/soapy context: see White Linen by Lauder for that sharply fresh, sudsy effect. A seeming anaesthetizing of the nose can be due to a preponderance of ionones (violet notes). The too sour, too acid impression can be due to a very citric touch of hesperidic essences (from citrus fruits).
Usually the designation of something as "fresh" is considered a positive one, even though it might not relate to a specifically "fresh" family (such as aqueous/light floral/light fougere/citrus); analogously, "heavy" usually is used to describe a negative effect, again not relative to specific fragrance families but rather to "volume" of perfume, intense projection and radius of evaporation, especially when combined with more potent notes such as lush florals, intense mosses/woods or oriental/resinous notes.

In the end, getting to know the vocabulary of scent not only facilitates a common language reference among fellow fragrance enthusiastcs, but also enriches the experience itself, much like getting to know the parameters of art critique enhances the appreciation of art itself.

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

Thursday, August 26, 2010

Why French (and European) people grow up to love scents while Americans don't

One of the most frequent and controversial divides among Europeans and Americans has to do with the scope of this venue: smell! The things we like to smell, the way we smell, the cultural milieu in which this function happens, our perception on it and the reaction to the olfactory environment. Why are the French (and most Europeans grosso modo) so much more attuned to smells and more receptive of them, even when they tether on the edge of the unpleasant, than North Americans? Before anyone says that this is not true, let me state: There are of course exceptions, on both sides. And I bet our American readers are here exactly because they belong to that percentage of exception; even though they are numerous, let's admit it, on the grander scale of things, perfume is only a small niche. But incidents like trying to ban scented products from public spaces in a whole city or refusing to carry a passenger in public transport in Calgary, Canada, because her perfume is disagreeable, not to mention the augmenting complaints of real and imaginary "allergies" to perfume which we discussed recently, tend to happen across the pond mostly. Why is that?

Certainly one cannot in any sanity of mind even entertain the thought that there is some inherent, chromosome-induced difference in olfactory perception or reception, because a)that would sound completely Nazi-like and b)both North America and Europe consist of largely mixed populations which have effaced lots of their indigenous DNA makeup through centuries of intermingling. We all, more or less, start from the same standpoint, but we tend to diverge early on. So, if it's not nature, it's got to be nurture. Education, to be exact. It's not just a 9-letter word, you know.

This train of thought lagging at the back of my brain was sent to the forefront again when I came across a post on Sylvaine Delacourte's blog, the artistic directress of parfums Guerlain, who elaborated on how they actually organise special "workshops" led by Marie Birin (in two levels, mind you!) for children starting from the age of seven (!) so they can learn how to organise smells in their mind, see the perfume creation logic at work and therefore appreciate scents better. One might cynically exclaim that this is a tool to convert children into little consumers. And in some part it does create an affinity for the brand, I suppose, when they grow up. Wouldn't you have fond memories of a brand who allowed you to get your hands dirty with all kinds of smell stuff and got you out in the garden to sniff flowers and wet earth? Yet I wouldn't wager this is intended with that objective to begin with (they also host workshops for adults anyway). No other society on the entire planet is more consumer-and-business driven than the American one and I have yet to hear of children's perfume appreciation workshops there. The powers that by do try to make them little consumers, all right, what with the Disney cartoon characters embossed on innocuous "waters" for playing dress up and what not, but is this really on a par with sitting down and educating them about smells and raw materials? I don't think so.

Ask what perfume signifies across different cultures and you will hear interesting differences of perception, converging on its overall goodness: To some it's a pick-me-up, a moment of freshness and joyful, frank pleasure, a smile at both yourself and the world, if you will. Think of the Spanish, the Greeks and the Italians who use literally liters of eaux fraiches and Eaux de Cologne throughout hot summers both on themselves and on children. To others, it's part of a glamorous living in which they can indulge into after decades of being deprived of these luxuries. Think of the Russians and the formely communist Eastern Europeans who had no varied access to perfume for decades, because it was seen as a decadent representation of capitalism. To others, still, it's a nostalgic representation of nature scenes for when the sky is all gloomy and overcast making them dream (think of the Victoriana English perfume scene before the advent of niche in the last decade) or an accessory which is providing a tie with both long tradition and latest fashion (think of the numerous German and Dutch apothecaries, or the au courant designers' scene hailing from North Italy, Austria or the Netherlands). And of course there is that special intimate rapport between a person and their chosen perfume; the latter standing as an extendable, inviting aura for the revelation of the former, which is so well met au valeur (put to its besty advantage) in France...

These are so much ingrained to children from an early age that they grow up to view them as perfectly natural, expected, par for the course: An experienced pedagogist was telling me the other day regarding potty training that she recommends when a toddler is successful to congratulate them with "well done" and a drop of their parent's cologne or perfume on their hands. An Austrian acquintance of elementary school age came back from a trip grabbing not only chocolates, but also minis of 4711 Eau de Cologne. For herself and for her friends I might add. Relatives give small sips of red wine to their little kids so they develop the palate to appreciate them at a later age. French friends routinely give camembert (a non pasteurised cheese) to their small children without as much as raising an eyebrow as to any microbe scare. Heidi, in the famous Yohana Spiri novel, a Swiss child, was accustomed to drink goat's milk (a quite smelly kind of milk in its raw form) straight after the milking off the animal. The antithesis in the form of revolted apostasis to that was Miss Rottenmeier, the austere, dried-up sprinster who was responsible for the kids at her German friend's home in Frankfurt. European children in short are taught from the craddle onwards that smells are not a bad thing on the whole. Sure, some are more likeable than others and everyone has personal preferences, but they form part of the sensual world. And the sensual world is something to embrace and indulge in, rather than reject and demonise.

Contrast with the American reality and lore, where smelly stuff is (seemingly inherently) bad and many things having to do with the body are demonized by the status quo. Even the phrase "it smells" usually has a negative connotation: Putting perfume on small children is generally seen as sexualising the child, even by people who themselves are responsive to perfumes. The value of keeping childhood innocence for as long as possible in nowhere more pronounced than in American culture, as attested by children's fairy tales of local origin, films and prototypes which, enthused as they are into passing the best possibly intented pedagogical messages, sometimes tend to overexaggerate in their zest. If Snow White was an American tale, she would never have eaten the poisoned apple but instead would have responded to the wiles of the evil stepmother with a "This isn't washed nor peeled, talk to the hand!".
Flowers are increasingly grown devoid of any particular smell, as if they are meant to look nice and just play the virgin. Come to think of it: Why was it such a big deal that Brooke Shields and Britney Spears were presented as virgins at the time of their prime? I have never heard such claims by any aspiring or established star in Europe (and if they did dare bring this up, it would be confusing and ridiculed, like "what the hell does this has to do with what your job is"?)
Urban kids eat chicken drumsticks coming out of a pack of 6, almost never having the experience of seeing someone defeather a real chicken (never mind a rooster) and seeing the guts discarded in a plate, unless they live on a farm of course. If you showed them or if you mention that process in a classroom full of kids, they would sooner respond "eww, don't gross us out" than make appreciative noises at the inherent violence (yes, children do embrace violence in healthy, necessary ways too) and curiously "dirty" satisfaction that such an act produces (Have you ever cooked a mean coq au vin having just received a rooster from a small supplier at the village? Do try it and then tell me!).

Therefore, if this talk among perfume enthusiasts about "stopping the madness of banning perfume and scented products" is to be taken seriously, then people, please try starting at the source: at the hand that rocks the craddle. It is the hand that rules the world. In the foreseeable future, at the very least.

Photo Erich Comeriner Petit Mannequin, Anonymous Weight Problems.

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