Perfume and the Perfumed: When Icon & Fragrance Delightfully Clash

Imagine the jaws dropped when Christina Hendricks, the one of voluptuous bosom, retro colouring and glamorous role in Mad Men, the cult TV-series, revealed some of her favourite things on People magazine, naming a fragrance among them: The fragrance was Premier Figuier by L'Artisan Parfumeur, a fig fragrance. It's quite usual to think of perfume in the way of a glamour accessory meant to evoke a specific image, but how can this astound us when a perceived connotation of a specific fragrance is shattered by its actual use; especially when it is by someone famous which we envisioned a specific way. For many seasons fans of the series imagined Hendricks oozing sex-appeal in something that was come-hither and ripe of the seductress, in the context of a 1960s classy one, not withstanding.

It's an automatic reflex to think of fragrance as a very specific symbol of self, the most pliable perhaps of all, since it does not evolve neither a sanctimonious financial overlay (like a condo would), nor an extreme make-over. Spray and you're good to go; or so the thinking goes. After all, we have been told that a fragrance wardrobe should be our goal, fitting scent to time & place and to outfit, not to mention our mood.

What happened with the above scenario is that we had pegged Christina a certain way: the curvaceous glamour puss and we -more or less- refuse to believe that she is a living, breathing woman with tastes of her own who chooses an outdoorsy, intelligent scent that is reproducing something that is not meant specifically for seduction, but for one's self. It might have helped that we saw a shot of Christina as Joan Holloway (office manager of the advertising agency Sterling Cooper) in front of a mirror preening, applying lipstick, with an array of glamorous bottles in front of her, one of which was the seductive Shalimar by Guerlain in one of the stills from the TV-program. Premier Figuier has its own special sex appeal, but it lacks the edge that a certain mythos over the decades has given to Shalimar. We have come to associate the actress with the role of the sassy femme fatale, as if she is incarcerated in her DD-cup and her cinched waists, smart reply hanging on rouged lips. And yet, her style is not without substance. On the contrary. But like in many cases of projecting a certain image in olfactory terms, it's another example where the mold is broken and we raise an eyebrow in surprise.



I hear similar pronouncements all the time perusing some of my favourite perfume-discussing boards: "Jackie Kennedy Onassis was the epitome of elegance, it all fits she wore Joy and Jicky". (But not only!) "Maria Callas was so loyal to Chanel, she must have worn No.5, her style was so timeless." (We'll never know for sure though the hypothesis holds water) "I can picture a chypre perfume on Katharine Hepburn". (and yes, she scored one or two, but not only!).

In our above exercise, Peggy Olson would wear the cool, brainy chypre fragrance. "Keira Knightley must have an endless crate of Coco Mademoiselle, oh look here, she says she only wore men's scents before!" (absolutely not true). Madame Sarkozy, previously known as Carla Bruni, is an Italian aristocrat who modelled for a hobby, so it fits she would wear something with a pedigree of taste and quality. (voila, indeed!).

I had the easiest time while composing my Vetiver Series picturing each and every one of the vetiver fragrances featured on the visage of some male actor (even though they did not necessarily wear said fragrance in real life): smart and facially rugged Hugh Laurie, alluring and insinuating Jeremy Irons, straightfoward old-school Gerald Butler, virile and seemingly cocksure Russell Crowe, suave but enigmatic Ralph Fiennes. Was I guilty of free-associating thanks to no more than the persona they project? Most certainly.


To cut a long story short, celebrities choose what they choose for various reasons, one of the lesser or grudgingly admitted ones being that they are people like us with their own set of criteria, tastes, memories and dislikes. But try to take that out of our heads? Not so easy...

And on to YOU: Are you guilty of associating specific fragrances to specific people and why? Share your thoughts in the comments!

*Note on picture of Christina Hendricks as Joan in Mad Men bathroom scene in front of perfume display: The AMC photo is from Season 3, Episode 3: “Guy Walks Into an Advertising Agency”. The fragrances tray includes for sure Houbigant's Demi Jour, a Lauder bottle (same shape as the later Estee but it's probably Youth Dew) and Intimate by Revlon.

Christina Hendricks photos via wikimedia commons, Huffington Post and Haircutting in High Heels

Snapshots of Phantasmagoria

Sights and sounds of an impending Christmas, ghost-like and semi-transparent in the most bitter cold, still flicker before my eyes as I write these lines; the sweet nostalgia of meeting with gregarious people with a wicked sense of (dark) humour mingling with the sense of bygones and the desire for new beginnings the New Year brings upon us.

The stall market alongside the big arch at Champs, a couple of blocks before Place de la Concorde, filled with kiosks yielding under the weight of small gifts and unexpected delicacies. The lights on the trees directed upwards, forming what looks like giant chalices. Children's eyes (lots of them) filled with awe and anticipation at the sight of the big carousel and the Wheel at the square. The delectable and oh-so-sinful chocolates by Patrick Roger at Bld St.Germain in the shape of bumblebees as well as the crunchier nougatine; everything the child in all of us marvels at with unbridled glee! (If you can't get the chocolate, at least get the books). A quiet morning at Société de Géographie, its doors flanked by classical caryatids, peering over shadowy maps which delineated in their own way ~and my own interest~ the decline of the Ottomans; chased by a demi-tasse lounging and studying on the red sofas of Café Mezzanine for hours on end. The phantasmagorical shop windows on Haussman Avenue and in full contrast the sketches of a couple of clochards looking for a haven from the bitter cold under the bridges.


And what perfumes do the French wear, you might ask? The top sellers according to the info I gleaned at Sephora, Marionnaud and Galeries Lafayette (the latter comprising a lot of tourists sales as well) are Chanel No.5, J'Adore, Angel, Coco Mlle, Kenzo Flower for women and 1 Million, Eau Sauvage, Le Mâle, Boss and Terre d'Hermès for men. I suppose some of it falls under the "if it smells good and enough people buy it all the time" adage...My own nose accounted quite a bit of Lolita Lempicka, Hypnotic Poison and Guerlain's Vétiver.
Interesting all the same, all these best-selling lists, no?

Black & White photo Les Amoureux de la Bastille by Willy Ronis, painting L'Arc de Triomphe, Paris, Winter by Edouard Léon Cortès.

Etat Libre d'Orange Like This Tilda Swinton: Musing on a Muse

Etat Libre d’Orange, the brand of interesting scents and provocative names, takes on another unusual muse; after Rossy de Palma, the cubist-looking Spanish actress renowned for her work in Almodovar films, the visually striking and fiercely talented Tilda Swinton is their next "muse". The enigmatic, ambiguous, eternally pale and socially provocative actress (living a polyamorous existence in Scotland) broke into the scene with Virgina Woolf's Orlando film adaptation in 1992 never to divert far from our attention span ever again. Even though Tilda is not exactly beautiful (or pretty, in the conventional sense of big eyes, round contours, flowing mane) she is arresting and compelling to watch, making the camera love her. Etat Libre d’Orange dedicates their latest fragrance, inspired by the verse of the Persian poet of the 13th century Rumi and named Like This to Tilda Swinton, rendering the most unexpected "celebrity scent" in a long while. Perhaps the choice wasn't really that unexpected: Several perfume enthusiasts in the online community when asked which celebrity should have their own fragrance mention her name, adding that Etat Libre would do her justice (that remains to be seen, but I am willing to test the theory out!)

So what is it with unusual, non silicone-friendly beauties that could be termed jolie-laide lately? We had noticed the phenomenon when Balenciaga had chosen Charlotte Gainsbourg a while ago for their new violet-laced steely scent Balenciaga Paris. Even though Charlotte, Gainsbourg's daughter by Jane Birkin, has known controversy since infancy (Lemon Incest is a hard act to follow!), somehow her contemporary profile minus Antichrist is rather tame. Her family life, married to director Yvon Attal, is steady, even bourgeois. Tilda on the other hand enjoys a much more controversial profile, a patrician background and her Celtic features and high colouring are unpredictable and more distinctive than Charlotte's. The White Witch part in The Chronicles of Narnia: The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe (2005) was plenty memorable.

What is more interesting is that there seems to exist a brave new frontier in fronting fragrances through faces that communicate a certain intelligence (Tilda has been involved in installation art and cutting-edge fashion, notably for Victor & Rolf) and visual bravado. The audience has been tired of mainstream predictability and needs new "flesh". Is it also an indication of feministic streak that re-awakens through a bras-de-fer with the cemented ideals of Hollywood-esque attractiveness? Tilda is a creature of subtle and underground sexuality, which highlights the mystique that fragrance can inspire admirably. And perhaps the female buyers of fragrance long for it to be again -after decades when it was forgotten- a discreet game of mapping their own identity, intelligently and cohesively. In the words of Tilda herself: "I'm basically interested in identity, and I still find fascinating the question, 'How do we identify ourselves, and how do we settle into other people's expectations for our identity?' "

Like This was composed by perfumer Mathilde Bijaoui, including notes of yellow mandarin, ginger, helicrysum (everlasting flower/immortelle), neroli, Grasse rose de Mai, heliotrope, musk and vetiver, as well as the new synthetic Potiron Jungle Essence (Mane laboratories) reinforcing the smell of pumpkin. The word pumkin ~alongside its echolalia and the findings of Dr.Hirsch about its scent augmenting penile blood flow~ makes me giggle a bit when contemplating the polyamorous environment of Tilda. Is this intentional? It would be fun to think that it were!

Like This by Etat Libre d’Orange will be available in Eau de Parfum 50ml and is launching on 13th March 2010.
Photo of Tilda Swinton via papercastlepress.com/blog

Sign of the Times (and a Little Rant)

When reading upon perfume boards one comes across an involved discussion by numerous perfume lovers about fragrances that could be aptly described by the rather ghastly term "fruitchouli", you realise that something is quite rotten in the kingdom of Perfumistadom! You might expect Tina Turner to get out the saxophones and break into "We don't need another hero fruitchouli" (beyond Thunderdom) and if you feel that way I can't blame you; who can? Three quarters of the market (at least the mainstream sector, but not exclusively) are inundated by the plague of fruitchoulis that walked the path that Angel paved and later Narciso Rodriguez diverted a bit. Talk about a snowball. But let's start at the top!

The very term "fruitchouli" was coined by an undentified perfume lover Mbanderson61, exasperated by the abysmall unoriginality that the fragrance market displays for some years now, churning out a flood of releases that mimic each other in a frenzied pace. The two main elements seem to be sweet fruity notes (a sad remnant of the anemic 90s where pastel fruits were left to substantiate "airy" or "watery" notes) and the newly refound note of patchouli, buffed and sanitized out of its hippy references and ready for its close-up, mr. De Mille. Hence the brilliance of the coinage of "fruitchouli"! It's surpemely evocative of the current trend.

Personally I would differentiate between the archetypal Angel and its clones/upstarts/homages (Angel Innocent, CK Euphoria, Coco Mademoiselle, Lolita Lempicka, Flowerbomb, Prada, Cacharel Liberté, Miracle Forever, Hypnôse and Hypnôse Senses, Nuits de Noho, Coromandel, New Haarlem...) and some other popular fragrances with patchouli, a family inaugurated by Narciso For Her (namely Lovely, Midnight Poison, YSL Elle, Gucci by Gucci, Chypre Fatal, Citizen Queen, Lady Vengeance, Perles de Lalique, Agent Provocateur...).
I would classify the former into gourmand orientals ~they're generally quite sweet and the fruitiness is more distinct, often underlined with vanilla/caramel/marshmallow/foody notes etc. The latter I would classify into floral woodies/"nouveau chypres" (technically the "new pink chypre" genre IS a floral woody; patchouli & vetiver base is considered a woody base). Michael Edwards classifies them in a seperate family within chypres (mossy woods) as well.

Making a conscious effort to sample and think about several new releases lately, I found myself bored beyond belief at the sameness encountered and my reluctancy to even bother putting a few words together for the benefit of the casual reader searching for opinions on the latest; such was the disappointment and ennui. From the uniform look, uniform style of the new Anthology line by Dolce & Gabbana to the inoffesive lappings of sweet nothings of Ricci Ricci (pity, the bottle is fabulous!) to the vinyl and "flat" rosechouli of the new Parisienne, all the way through the generic Idole d'Armani, I didn't feel myself moved beyond a cursory spray or two. When you have dedicated a personal site to fragrances and are writing on them professionally as well, this does forebode very gravely...
It's not the lack of artistry or technique in the execution of an idea, as some releases are competent. It's the idea itself that has become mundane, tired, overdone, vulgar; even though it seemed like a nice concept all those years ago! Like waking up in some Heaven where all the girls and boys look like Grace Kelly and David Beckham with a perpetual smile on their faces and delicious macrobiotic 4-course food is served at 12 sharp by white-gloved valets. After a while you just long to bring a scruffy Johny Depp and his Nabisco saltine crackers in bed, don't you!

Perhaps the most brilliant suggestion and new term/classification proposed comes from Perfume of Life's long-time member Mando who exclaims humorously (and expectantly): "I think the next wave should be "bootichouli" - chypres heavy with civet accents". If Beyoncé and Jennifer Lopez have bootylicious down pat and Kim Kardashian is famous for her derrière as well, then let's all pray that "bootichouli" can be the new trend in fragrances. Why not? It does present some technical problems, as civet is not exactly the most easy or ethical essence to harvest, but in an age where everything can be replicated in the lab using nano-technology-this and infra-technology-that, the illusion becomes much more of a reality (And there is already synthetic civetone). But that's besides the point really: The point is enough is enough! There is a ripe audience for a skanky new genre and we're cornering an increasing share of the market. Please hear us roar!

Art: Baloon Dog by Jeff Koons via flavorpill and
photo by Jemima Stelhi via files.list.co.uk

Falling in Love~Scents and Treats for Fall

T.S Eliot in The Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock came up with the immortal line of having "measured out his life with coffee spoons".
Somewhat less arrestingly I have been counting the (academic) years by the new leather-bound notebooks I buy every September, a perpetual student even while lecturing others.

The mixed feelings of new beginnings and the wistfulness of the rainy season produce a compelling crash in me: Perhaps it's merely that I was born in autumn that it holds a special place in my heart. Perhaps it's that autumn is a special season any way, reminding us of our own mortality.



Whatever it is,
"La Petite Fille de la Mer" (Girl of the Sea) by Greek composer Vangelis, captured in this visually beautiful clip titled "Autumn" below, is following me these days.
I accordingly got myself a new bottle of Eau de Monsieur by Annick Goutal to replenish my finished one. It's a criminally underrated fragrance from 1980 which pioneered the use of immortelle back when no one would think of having that fenugreek-like aroma about them. Its sexy, maple & moss over warmed sand dunes, tawny atmosphere reminds me of the passage of summer into winter.
My evening-unwinding scent for when I'm in? Douce Amère by Serge Lutens (click for review), a mix of sweet and bitter like absinth liquor.


And then there are things that easily lend themselves to autumnal thoughts by their very nature. Whenever I catch a glimpse of Andrei Tarkovsky's Zerkalo (The Mirror) I find myself listening to the hush of nature going to sleep. Christopher Brosius' Burning Leaves comes to mind...With a touch of the gently decaying red apples and myrrh incense of Wazamba (review here).



During the day I am fantasizing of striding moors à la Catherine Earnshaw in sturdy and mean boots. I have zeroed on these ones by La Redoute. My black riding boots scent? Chanel Cuir de Russie in extrait de parfum or Doblis by Hermès, baby! (click for reviews)
And of course this calls for a nice cashmere little sweater that can be worn any day and not be cumbersome (we don't get the Yorkshire weather, after all!). This Isle of Skye little number looks perfectly cozy and flattering. I'd like it in charcoal grey and would pair it with just about anything: colourful shirts, print scarfs, jeans, my A-line skirt in pitch black...
My cashmere sweater scent? Barbara Bui Le Parfum and Sonia Rykiel Woman, not for Men! in Eau de Parfum strictly. (Interchangeably, they're quite similar, as you can read here)

In the evenings, as the weather cools progressively, I have been reverting to my comforting Crème Spendide Nuit by Annick Goutal, whose rose essence is perfectly calming while the texture is a dream: Its instant moisturising claim is not misleading. And spraying my surroundings with my latest obsession, Opopanax by Diptyque: If you even remotely like the classic Shalimar by Guerlain, give the Diptyque a whirl. The resinous powdery touch is perfect for centering and I love the elegant bottle.

I was watching Strange Days by Kathryn Bigelow (Cameron's wife for those who don't know her) on TV the other day. 14 years yesterday since its release and it struck me how modern it still looks, how original. (And I still absolutely adore the above song by PJ Harvey.)
In a way we're living snippets of the lives of others through the Internet these days: Their experiences become our collective "Squids" and you're in one of them. So I hope you enjoy the ride and are left with a desire to Playback!

Please visit the following blogs for more thoughts on favorite Fall scents & associations:

The Non Blonde, Under the Cupola, Ayala's Smelly Blog, Savvy Thinker, Olfactarama, Notes from the Ledge, Ars Aromatica, Mossy Loomings, I Smell Therefore I Am, Tea Sympathy and Perfume.


Sepia Tree photo credit: Autumn in Sepia by Rick Lundh (via gallery.photo.net) manipulated by me.

All other photos by Elena Vosnaki (click to enlarge)


Clip October Dream originally uploaded by Shastasheene, Clip from Mirror originally uploaded by unkindrublicrpp, clip of Juliette Louis singing in Strange Days by SanJayaPrimeon Youtube.

Travel Memoirs: Florida the wondrous

It would not be an overstatement to claim that some of the most stupefying things in my galivanting around the globe were witnessed while in Florida, US. There was perhaps none of the weirdly exotic folklore of other cultures such as that rampant on the Indian peninsula or the Far East, yet some of them have vividly stood out in my mind nuanced with the colours, the sounds and smells of that particular corner of the world.
In my subconscious, aided by the romantic mythology of beatniks and the silver screen, as well as a perpetual On the Road modus vivendi (despite Jack Kerouac never having accomplished the long-route journey of his hero in reality), America was the land of constant shifting; wide, pastel Cadillacs rolling lazily and tall palms delineating the horizon in Technicolor. In many ways these images took shape and form in Florida. No matter pink flamingoes can be found as close as in Cyprus, the sight of them taking flight en masse can only be fittingly placed in pastel-tinted Florida.

Miami in particular seemed like a creature sprawled over on the sea waiting for the ripples to awaken it, its entwined avenues creating a Deadalic complex where mere pedestrians are persona non grata. The shock of exiting the airport doors, from an atmosphere dry as a bone to humid like an Ottoman hammam, wasn't greater than that greeting us in Singapore. There, as in the whole South-East Asia, the ambience is additionally saturated with the yeasty smell of the air and the exotic spices of the Thai cuisine. Florida is without that peculiar sourbread-like note, but its humid kiss promises to stain your starched straw-hued linens very soon! Packing hydrosols and lighter colognes was a smart choice, from the cleaner Tendre Poison to the ever appropriate masculine Rochas Moustache, but I recall how the original Carolina Herrera for Women, its jasmine-tuberose embrace engulfing, was the choice which stood out most for me; its tropical whispering was seductive in the evening breeze which blew over pastel-shaded art deco buildings right out of a 50s film, while passerbys were consuming café cubano at the seaside cafés. The Cuban expatriates are shaking their bon-bon at the beach and on the sidewalk with gusto, upping the beauty quota of the pensioners' population residing in the quitetude of this long-acred shore, and infusing the humid air with their fragrances of coconut-laced suntan oil and white musk body sprays. The air carries the promise of an hedonic evening.

Our field trip took us from watching a cyclone forming in the distance, swiftly approaching our car to our panic contrasted to the relative sang froid of our driver (they're quite used to them, he intimated), to discerning a space-shuttle launch visible all the way from Cape Canaveral in the distance, through the one of the most cataclysmic rains I have ever witnessed in my life and chasing sharks in every seaquarium within driving distance! Nevertheless, rolling on the highway to Orlando, funfair and theme-park capital of the universe most probably, one can't but notice a more commercial aspect: the staggering multitude of outlets for clothes, gadgets and...perfumes. Not merely one, but three major discount perfumeries dot the International Dr (at #1, H and 3A) and several others I bet were hiding behind the gigantic eateries with "Coke size small" served bucket-size. (America the Plenty, we thought and marvelled). It was here that the sales lady assisted our tourist queries with her recommendation to me of Hermès Calèche: "very classy, very old-world" were her words, as she was exclaiming how she always got Italian tourists at her store. If only she knew just how old our weary steps all the way from the Grecian dusty soil had been in this shinning new, almost teflon environment and how much the vast variety and deeply discounted prices had bedazzled us...We left with several gifts, one for every single family member we had seen since our baptismal at the very least.
Visiting the Universal Studios is a natural pilgrimage for anyone who has ever mimicked the Bride of Frankestein's hairdo with shampoo-foam in the shower or noted down Marxist references (or male thighs, I'll give you that) in Spartacus. And amidst the languid atmosphere and the scent of excitement that jeopardising-your safety-at-the-games-but-not-really (like in the Earthquake or Jaws shows) ignites in the human soul, I couldn't help but think how much Hollywood and the big studios have contributed to the lore of perfume wearing: Don't we still marvel at The Women and the racks of perfume flacons lined in the back of the store? Don't we tick off fragrance references in Pacino's recital in Scent of a Woman? (ie. Floris cologne, the fictional Ogilvy Siters soap, Misuki, Bay Rum and Fleurs de Rocaille). Don't we secretly envision ourselves as another Myrna Loy sitting in front of a heaving with expensive crystalware vanity?

But none of the fictional scentathlon can rival the rich, mossy, pungent and all around compelling atmosphere of the swamps; the greatest natural park of them all, the Everglades! Risk-seeking thrill must have been running through our veins at the time: We had not only rented a mini motor-boat cruising through the immense dirty-green and full of scattered leaves & water-lillies bodies of water that hide alligators and venomous turtles, but actually held the former in our hands when visiting the nearby breeding farm. I will never forget the feel of reptilian in my palm; surprisingly soft, oscillating from buttery soft to thick-skinned along the body, yet creepily cool to my mammal touch, like dead tissue. An alien feeling exacerbated by the nearby smell of hatched crocodilian eggs and fresh prey for the mothers.
The ambience of The Everglades is majestic and awe-inspiring, like entering an enchanted forest where everything takes on a twisted and dangerous nuance, only it's all played out in the eternal South, cast under the bright sunlight, as opposed to the more dimly-lighted spells of Ormonde Woman. Godzilla-sized mosquitos fester the area, which accordingly necessitates industrial-strength insect-repellant: Luckily, the little handy store outside the official entrace sells that by the trackload and despite its hair-nose singeing eucalyptus and terpene notes which had me reluctant to put it on myself, it seemed to work like a charm and keep the evil pests at bay for the whole day.

Thankfully, the long route that diverts from the national park to the Southern-most tip of the Florida Peninsula, the Florida Keys, took our mind off the "Off "and into fun escapades à la True Lies. If only we had the endless lean thighs of Jamie Lee Curtis to show, we would have fancied similar acrobatics with the open-top car, but we kept our modesty intact and the air-conditionning on full speed. Key West is a truly tropical paradise with the heat to match it, even in the early throes of autumn, and I can see why Ernest Hemingway chose to live some of his adventurous and short life here writing about mako sharks.
Us, etternally drawn like Ulysses to their kin, magnetically recalibrated found the best Greek-owned restaurant where we died from gustatory hedonic rapture which included the most amazing and iodine-scented seafood, ending our meal with one of the most fragrant of all Americal dishes: the Key West Key Lime Pie. Thanks to the tangier and more aromatic fruit of the Florida limes as opposed to Persian limes, the dish presents itself like a true fragrance, with citrusy and aromatic top notes titillating the palate, progressing into the buttery, egg-yolk smooth sarisfying heart and the condensed milk creaminess of its basenotes. The perfect closing of an unforgettable adventure.


Related reading on Perfume Shrine: Travel Memoirs, Stars & Stripes: 10 Quintessentially American Fragrances


Pics via msnbcmedia4.msn.com, blacktomatoonline.co.uk, cache.virtualtourist.com, media.cdn.tripadvisor.com, tropical-impressions.net, mrmoms.org, gottaeatsweets.com

I Know What You Did Last Summer ~the Perfume Edition

In a feverish summer stroke of genius Ayala of Smelly blog aided by the ever resourceful Gaia of The Non Blonde came up with a project more substiantial than simply a list of summer favourites: here you will find assorted creative minds proposing scents for almost every summer eventuality, in essence the ultimate summer scent wardrobe! Perfumes which you can take or leave, arguably, yet these lists are by no means exhaustive and are intended to give a little nudge into finding your own special fragrances for this summer. So, have fun and tell us what your preferences are for your own summery occasions!
I have been hearing how this summer has been rather cool for most of Western Europe and North America so far, but let me tell you in the Hellenic land of the Gods, it's never a summer without a mean case of the heat (and inevitably the hots!). We have been having cloudless skies ever since May and temperatures above 32C for 2.5 months now and you can see lightly bronzed, slick bodies aplenty on the beach and in the streets, so I have pretty much adjusted myself in the fragrance department pretty well by now. Here are my preferences! (click the links for reviews)

Hitting the beach is but a stone's throw away and even if not dipping in the cool Aegean waters, just inhaling the iodine-rich smell of the sea-spray is invigorating. We used to count our summers by how many swims we had taken when we were children (much like others did by counting how many ice-cream sticks they consumed), but nowadays I find that even a leisurely walk on the sugar-spun sands adds a special something to my day. When I go for a swim I prefer to pack Dior Bronze Monoi Gelée in my little nécessaire, a perfect monoi smell (tiaré and amyl salicilate) which I put on both body as a moisturizer and on hair. It wafts deliciously, isn’t photosensitive and never clashes with my trusty La Prairie sunblock.

Sailing is another typically Greek expedition for summer and apart from afternoon lazy fishing we also discover many unchartered, unreachable from tourism beaches that way! (I call this heaven, don't you?) For lounging on the deck you can't beat the light and refreshing vetiver and light smoke of Chanel’s beautiful Sycomore; it even takes a subtle chocolate nuance when in the sun! The iodine aroma of Goutal's Vetiver is more hard-core, reminding me of days seeing workers doing metal-working on large boats, the fiery metal-induced sparks bursting all around mingling with the scents of tar and salt.

Al fresco eating in summery tavernas ~often right after that sea dip, hair up with a silk scarf and body wrapped in a Pucci-printed sarong~ demands something uncomplicated. If I had opted for only the monoi gel I follow with a spritz of my purse-sprayer of Malle's Carnal Flower. Its green tuberose along with the subtle coconut touch is the epitome of summers outdoors (and would also be fabulous for a summer wedding, but more of that on a seperate article). For a warmer feel I have been also using Tauer’s Une Rose Chyprée and Chanel’s Bois des Iles parfum a lot.

If it’s a Bar-B-Q I am attending (Greeks are infamous carnivores, but we also roast our seafood to great aplomb) I can get away with a smoky little something: lately that’s Encens Flamboyant from Goutal’s "Les Orientalistes" collection.



Jet Setting is another option. I try to travel light and bring few key pieces that match each other in multiple combinations, usually in the palette of white-red-blue. My suitcase has room for vintage souvenirs, foreign editions of books I've meaning to hunt down and of course new local fragrances! Two scents which are comforting and non obtrusive on airplanes and trains are Vanille Galante by Hermès and Bois d’Iris by The Different Company. I am also flirting with the limpid, coolly spicy Un Jardin après La Mousson.

Walking around town visiting open-air book fairs is one of my favourite past-times: The view of all the titles stacked neatly beside each other, the exhibition cubicles all identical creating a long uniform line of knowledge and the smell of new paper and freshly printed ink is intoxicating. I don’t want to compete with them, so I choose the complementing Messe de Minuit by Etro which really comes alive only in the heat of summer.
Sometimes there's even a school band performing! If I am only out shopping and walking I pick Guerlain’s Vétiver pour Elle or Diorella: elegant and exuberant! And if there’s a heatwave, nothing but the most bitter green chypres will do: vintage Shiseido Zen, Silences by Jacomo and Piguet’s Bandit.

Siesta napping in a cool room while the heat blazes outside is one of the great comforts after a hot morning. The lazy, languid feelings evoked are perfectly encapsulated by L’Artisan’s Extrait de Songe (re-issued as L’été en Douce), a scent of dry white cotton, smooth sheets and the hay nuance of coumarin. (come to think of it, if you can locate a bit of the African Dreams home oil of The Body Shop to put on a burner it’s just as clean-cool). For an upscale indulgence I bring out the cool Iris Pallida by L’Artisan.

The fun fair is brash and weird and I love the illusions in the mirrors chambers or the terror train: Dzing! by L’Artisan with its cardboard and zoo animals' aroma captures the warm, yet strange atmosphere perfectly.

Cinema in Sicily, Naples and Greece is often an open-air affair during summer evenings, big yards with fine peeble, rows of seats across the silver screen and gigantic vines of honeysuckle, ivy and jasmine garlanding the perimeter. There’s a nostalgic air about it, either watching Stromboli with Ingrid Bergman or Nuovo Cinema Paradiso and I like to bring out my most romantic scents: Grand Amour by Goutal exploring lilies, honeysuckle and hyacinth, Molinard by Molinard, a cherished gift of that special someone with jasmine under green and fruity accents or Chamade by Guerlain with its blackcurrant buds and hyacinth heart.

A big night out in the big city demands a different, sexier approach and I have curiously gravitated towards ambers and spices lately: Perfumerie Generale liquorish Cozé, a tiny dab of Ambre Sultan on pulse points or Opium Eau de Toilette over my navel so it wafts upwards. I also love the honeyed sensual smell of Une Fleur de Cassie by F.Malle and the silken polish of Tubéreuse Criminelle by Lutens .

I am leaving you with Loukianos Kelaidoni's nostalgic song Summer Cinemas about the passing of youth:


Please check the following participating blogs for more ideas:

Smelly Blog, Legerdenez, The Non Blonde, I smell therefore I am, Scent Hive, Savvy Thinker, Moving & Shaking, Bittergrace Notes

Vintage pic found thanks to The Non Blonde, Santa Monica Pier 1920 from Dr. X's Free Associations. Pics via culture.ana-mpa.gr, athens-gree.com, montesorri.gr, photonet.com, and Life mag (Greek billionnaire Stavros Niarchos on his sailing boat)

Fille en Aiguilles & Fourreau Noir: First Images & Associations of the upcoming Lutens fragrances

The new fragrances of Serge Lutens, which we had announced on this article a while ago, will soon debut (Fille en Aiguilles comes out on July 1st!) and the speculation on what they entail is high: The Lutensian cosmos always produces something of an enigma, a riddle that necessitates multiple solutions like a geometry problem that can be approached in different ways, still all of them resulting in the concentrated essence of a new look to our world.


For Fourreau Noir Lutens takes a sartotial point of departure to narrate a tale of mystery.
"Two white hands emerge against the light, moving so slowly that they redefine the shadows, making them look darker. The contours of the body, illuminated by a gleam of light seeping through an open door, offer contrast. She moves forward, trampling the stairs beneath her feet, her smile broadens. With all the virtue of vice, this tight black dress had such a fluid shape that I could revel in its language..." Serge's fascination with the juxtaposition between black and white is infamous. Serge Noire was also alluding to it with its smoky trail and controversial press-release and the Japonesque fascination with the painted white skin is something which haunts the creative imagination of Lutens for long.

The limited edition bell jar (a special presentation of the Paris exclusive regular bell jars for collectors) is positively kittenish; perhaps the most playful flacon to ever come out of Les Salons du Palais Royal with its cat sketch seen from the back, gazing at the stars suspended in the lightly rosey-purplish juice.
The mysterious juice takes another incensy trail, the one left over by the more ecclesiastical and spicier Serge Noire, which took the hardened path to cloth, the one of utilitarian dress, while Forreau Noir denotes more luxury with its silky body-conscious aura. The lavender is diminuated, in order to let hay/tonka bean and incense do their thing, so we should expect a more feminine and less traditional composition than the typical masculine fougère.

For Fille en Aiguilles, Serge is playing with us: "Under a sunshade, the reckless cicada begins to sing. What a silly thing. A truly fatal hymn! Tick tick tick tick tick tick tick tick tick tick tick tick.
Telling us what makes Paris tick..."
I do notice however that the French text utilises the phrase Une fille à aiguilles en quelque sorte (a girl on needles of some kind) which could imply either simply stiletto points, or her disquetitude of being "on needles". Of course the pine resin which is the obvious association of the pine resin in the notes is not to be missed. While at the same time the press release ends with "Le dernier cri de Paris", which translates as "the latest vogue". Is it because it picks up a trend that hasn't been noticed up till now or does it hope to introduce a trend in itself? Deciphering the riddle posed is never conclusive. After the conventionally pretty Nuit de Cellophane, shall we expect a flamboyant firerwork like the sublime El Attarine? I fervently hope for the latter result, at any rate!

You can read notes and preliminary assumptions based on them on this article.
For the time being, the only full reviews online are those by Elisabeth de Feydeau in French on this link.
We will return soon with our own, starting with Fille en Aiguilles!


Click on pics to enlarge!

Related reading on Perfume Shrine: Serge Lutens scents & news, Upcoming releases

Olivier Durbano Turquoise: new fragrance & musings on gems

I gaze upon my small collection of turquoise jewels as soon as the weather warms up with the contemplation of someone who has been wearing the gemstone fully aware of its superstitious nature. In my culture turquoise is said to protect against the evil eye. But its vividness of hue, which is so well brought out in the warmth of the summer, is also thought to be indicative of the wearer's health: losing its luster in illness and in death, yet regaining its original richness in the hands of a new, healthy owner!
In the 3rd century, it was believed to protect against falling off a horse, to attract poisons, heal the eyes and aid against bites from snakes and scorpions. Changes in its shade indicated the infidelity of a wife. Arabian writings claimed "The turquoise shines when the air is pure and becomes pale when it is dim." (12th century AD) A gemstone truly immersed in legend!

Olivier Durbano, architect and jewellery designer, has created the line Parfums de Pierres Poèmes, liquid poems that interpret the magic of gemstones into fizzying emitions on the skin. After Tourmaline Noire, Amethyste, Cristal Rock, Jade, which took olfactory life thanks to tea, incense, jasmine and amber, now Turquoise joins the small and elegant line with a fragrance in the corresponding pastel greenish-blue hue of the semi-precious gemstone.

Turquoise, a hydrous phosphate of copper and aluminium, has been prized for its beautiful intensity of shade and rich, opaque feel since antiquity. It has adorned rulers of Ancient Egypt, the Aztecs, Persian and Mesopotamian priests and kings, and to some extent it has been also used in ancient China since at least the Shang Dynasty. In Egypt the first proof of use dates to the First Dynasty (3100-2890 BC), culminating into the iconic Tutankhamun's burial mask, but allegedly even prior to that turquoise was prized by the Egyptians and therefore mined in the Sinai Peninsula, called "Country of Turquoise" by the native Monitu. Etymologically the word derives from the 16th century French, either denoting Turkish origin (turquois) or evoking dark-blue stone (pierre turquin). However the best and highest-grade turquoise (a uniform robin egg's blue) always came from Persia/Iran, brought to Europe via the Silk Route and the writings of Marco Polo. But the beauty of the stone, heavily traded in Turkish bazaars and lovingly capturing the wonderful colour of the Mediterranean Sea of the Turkish coasts ~which inspired the Seljuks to adorn their abodes and homes with decorative tiles in these sunny shades~ might have accounted for the misattribution. In the words of Gubelin: " "This misnomer is readily explained by the fact that the first stones did not reach Europe directly from Persia [i.e., Iran], but rather through the intercession of seafaring Venetians who purchased them at Turkish bazaars." [1]
The deposits of California and New Mexico were mined by pre-Columbian Native Americans using stone tools and the stone is ingrained into their cultural and philosophical beliefs resulting in ceremonial jewellery and masks of astonishing ~and sometimes disturbing~ designs. The Apache Indians believed turquoise to combine the spirits of both sea and the sky, while the Navajo attributed to it qualities of an ex caelis fallen stone (a gem fallen from heavens). The Zunis of North America thought the blue of the sky represents light from their "spirit bird" reflected from the top of a mountain of turquoise. However, in an opposite sense other Native Americans of the southwestern United States region are said to have thought turquoise so-to-speak stole its color from the sky.

All these thoughts come to me as I contemplate how Olivier Durbano will interpret turquoise into what seems like a woody-ozonic fragrance with accents of incense like the rest of his line. The "mineral" quality of fragrances usually relies on synthesized materials, such as quinolines, aldehydes, and certain synthetic musks. [2] But in Olivier Durbano's Turquoise, the notes indicate a fragrance which evokes the milieu in which turquoise shines best, the cool azure of the sea and the warm tint of a clear summery sky. So the experiment is exciting to anticipate.
Gemstones and jewels have been nothing new to perfumery as a baptism concept, from the groundbreaking Emeraude by Coty and little-known vintage Blue Sapphire by Lynette New York, through the Elizabth Taylor commemorative collection and Paco Rabanne's aptly named Liquid Crystal, right up to Gem and Birmane (evoking rubies)by Van Cleef & Arpels (jewellers themselves). Lately many fragrances re-immersed themselves into the luxurious aspect that gems give: The Durbano line of course, some from Avon, Lalique Amethyst, Jette Joop Dark Sapphire, the Bulgari Omnia line (Améthyste, Green Jade, Crystalline), Versace Bright Crystal, the Sage Machado line, the Armani Privé line (with Pierre de Lune, Cuir Améthyste, Eau de Jade), Patricia de Nicolai Eau Turquoise, all the way to Lauder's Emerald Dream and the completely unknown (and dubious?) to me Aqua Sapphire by Guerlain.
No one can resist a little glimpse of bling-bling it seems!


Turquoise by Olivier Durbano features the following notes:
Head notes: Maritime pine resin, roseberry, elemi, Somalian incense, coriander, juniper
Heart notes: Alga fucus (seaweed), lily, fragrant reed, lotus blossom
Base notes: Everlasting Flower/Immortelle/Helycrisum, honey, myrrh wood, ambergris

[1]Link

[2]Jean Claude Ellena classification

A 2008 Retrospective

The end of the year is always a time of contemplation: summing up what happened, what left its indelible mark and what could have gone better. This is true in all things and more so when one is compiling a list for publishing purposes such as happens here. Theoretically, this recap should serve as a history lesson in not repeating the same mistakes and helping map out a better and more fruitful new year. Arguably, as per Hegel, "we have never learned anything from history, or acted on principles deducted from it " [1] however, which is so painfully true for the fragrance world and the luxury section in general. But let's not dampen our spirits just yet! Perhaps as evidenced before someone is paying attention, so here's to a better 2009.
The Perfume Shrine, along with a group of esteemed independent perfume bloggers participating, decided to publish some musings on 2008 and its fragrant twists and turns. So here are mine.

Something is rotten at the kingdom of Fragland?
To take things at the top, the main problem is there are too many fragrance launches. I mean, they're like rice grains as a reward on a chess board in some ancient tale or microbes on a petri-dish: one is not having an embarassement of riches anymore, but an embrassement full-stop. I know I am not the only one who has become jaded after all this time watching one after another announce the new miraculous composition that will incidentally both cure AIDS and end world hunger while making us smell fabulous. It's hard to get surprised any more, I guess. Still, the latest Serge Lutens ~which my friend Denyse was first to spread the news of~, the upcoming Hermessence and the newest Annick Goutal have managed to create some palpitations to my -otherwise- lukewarm heart. I'd hate to be disappointed and it's rather late to plead with the companies and the perfumers to please not mess with my heartstrings (they're all coming out in January, so we'll find out soon enough), so I am merely extending my wishes for something if not magnificent and earth-shattering, at least interesting enough.
It's worthwhile to note that amidst what is generally referenced as the worst recession since 1989, the hyper-luxe companies, such as By Killian, state that they have not noticed a decline in their turnover. Sibyllic...

Everyone is an Expert
When "Perfumes the Guide" erupted at the end of last March like a Godzilla-sized "menace" (?) on the front of thirsty lands (the perfume-discussing ones, I mean), suddenly a whole stampede of people nodding their heads energetically started quoting bits and pieces in order to justify their personal preferences; while another group of people were actively voicing their opposition questioning the validity of those opinions in that book in not so polite terms. The phenomenon left us with something of the weird mix of mirth, sarcasm and pained empathy. (Surely the authors were entitled to their opinions, weren't they? I thought they were).
Never before has such a small world taken itself at such breadth of importance! It was like watching Tim Burton's "Mars Attacks" with lots of popcorn. It was almost certain the authors would intellectually appreciate the crassness of Gaultier's Ma Dame. So what? You don't have to wear it! I doubt they're advocating that you should! They're simply evaluating its lack of pretence (good thing).
Yet suddenly the ratio of traditional press articles quadrupled with some quite original and serious and some hilarious results! Suddenly fragrance writing became big business. And although one could trace this last bit all the way back to The New York Times appointing Chandler Burr a scent critic a couple of years ago, this year's evolution has shown that starting one's own site or writing a piece for a newspaper leaves all the holes of one's semi-knowledge free for filling with fresh air. I am personally enjoying the wide selection ~when before did news circulate so quickly, as to make the new exclusive, moderately-priced Comme des Garcons sell out of stores carrying it in one day?~ that this development has given us, but I am urging you to judge with your best analytical and rational criterion while reading. (Obviously everyone has their own opinion, but not every journalist knows some facts).

Intriguing Trends I Noticed
Speaking of wishful thinking for 2009, I noticed that already 2008 brought a handful of things that raised my antennae to the direction of Interestville. Namely, the new direction for woody fragrances for women, the widening of selection of florals for men, and the ressurgence of melon notes through non-Calone [2]-using ways. A handful of genuinely intriguing trends emerged.

Woody fragrances are nothing new, but it seems that they have caught the eye of the makers of feminine fragrances: Sensuous by Estée Lauder, Magnifique for Lancome and Secret Obsession by Calvin Klein. From the predictability of the first to the hypersweet distortion-of-facts of the second and to the spicy austerity of the third (which I prefer out of the three, if pressed), I was pleased to witness a new trend coming, after what seemed like a tsunami of fruity florals and an oversimplification of modern chypres. May they continue (but with better compositions please)!

Floral touches for men took over where the pioneer marketing of Dior Homme had left: the metrosexual of 2008 is not afraid to wear his heart flower at his sleeve and go for Kenzo Power or Prada Infusion d'Homme. Then again, he can always fall back on Polo Modern Reserve by Ralph Lauren and its butch retro-machismo!

Melon and aquatic notes have been anathema for a whole (young) generation who grew up lisping "niche" and shopping at Aedes and Luckyscent with all the gusto of a card-holding dot.com progeny. Well, there's nothing like an old trend coming over for revenge and it seems like three 2008 releases are having a laugh at ou expense, admonishing us to shed our preconceptions and stop being annoyingly snobbish: Jean Claude Ellena did it first with Un Jardin Après la Mousson for Hermès and his daughter Céline followed with Sublime Balkiss for The Different Company, while Bertrand Duchaufour is continuing the laughter behind our backs with the river-like Fleur de Liane for L'artisan Parfumeur.

And then, there was Dans Tes Bras for F.Malle. Interesting to be sure.

My Coups de Foudre!
Then again there were some straight-arrow shoots who came up with things I loved immediately: a couple have even won pride of place in my ever-overspilling bottle collection! I feel for the honeyed apricots soaked in spices of El Attarine as soon as I smelled a sample. I came to love the somber, cool and warm antithesis of Serge Noire. Serge Lutens has largely redeemed himself in my eyes for the rather unoriginal latest releases of previous years. He has earned a grace period.
Chanel has also come up with a true rose-cut-like gem (Sycomore in Les Exclusifs line), a graceful if a little too pretty for its own good twin-set of a scent (Beige in Les Exclusifs) and a genuinely modern interpretation of an iconic milestone (No.5 Eau Premiere). Well done!
Suprisingly, Guerlain has produced only one modern fragrance this year that I liked in a year that was scattered with vintage acquisitions for me: Cruel Gardenia. But don't be fooled by the name, because it smells neither cruel nor gardenia-like (and I doubt they intended it to be either!). Still, this soapy prettiness has crept up on me. Don't get me started on Les Elixirs Charnels/ Carnal Elixirs though. Just don't!

Personal Growth
This year has been fulfilling on a personal level as related to my work here on Perfume Shrine and to my capacities as a fragrance writer and consultant. I have learned a lot of new things (for a constant student like myself, I have still lots of ground to cover though!), have expanded my horizons conversing with professionals who have taken an active interest in Perfume Shrine and am ready to relay my adventures with people who have a genuine passion for the art of perfumery. On top of that, in what started as a panicked attempt to salvage whatever I could out of a fragrance world that is constantly changing and rationing perfumery ingredients, thus creating a shortage in beauty, I finally managed to obtain some rare vintage collectibles which have graced my collection and have touched my historian's soul: Pour Troubler, Djedi, Fleur de Feu, Atuana, Ode, Liu (all by Guerlain, click to read reviews), Dior-Dior, Shiseido Nombre Noir, Lanvin Scandal...I am deeply thankful for the journey they have taken me on.
Last but not least, I have cemented a true rapport with my loyal readers, my guest writers and my perfume community friends and for that I am truly honoured.


Don't forget to check out what other bloggers have to say when recapping 2008 in their own words:

1000 fragrances
Ars Aromatica,
A Rose Beyond the Thames
Bittergrace Notes,
Grain de Musc,
I Smell therefore I Am,
Legerdenez,
Notes from the Ledge,
Olfactarama,
Savvy Thinker,
Smelly Blog (and her "best of" list)
The Non Blonde
and Tuilleries.

[1]approximate quote, Hegel referred to goverments.
[2]Calone is the sregistered name of a ynthetic aroma-material that dominated the 90s fragrances with its aquatic green melon note.