Tuberose Gardenia by Estée Lauder Private collection: fragrance review

Coming across the new Tuberose Gardenia by Estée Lauder was not an accident. It was thanks to a very thoughtful person who was able to obtain a precious sample for me and sent it against all odds for my tentative sampling. Gratitude is in order.

No hesitation was necessary on my part, though, regarding testing the elusive jus that is featuring as the first stepping stone on the new Private Collection by Estée Lauder, a line that will be positioned between niche and mainstream: limited distribution on the one hand (Neiman Marcus, Saks, Bergdorf Goodman, Holt Renfrew), but relatively sane prices on the other. The concept was masterminded by Aérin Lauder, the granddaughter of ingenious Estée, who is working as Creative Director of the huge brand. The name Private Collection recalls the cool upscale scent of tennis lawns and cool drinks sipped at a Hamptons party that Estee herself called her own and which Grace Kelly admired and asked to partake in, to great aplomb. That scent featured all the aloofness of an east coast heiress and a sophistication that befitted the empress of a multimillion company such as Lauder. Tuberose Gardenia is a different animal, nevertheless.

As I opened the carded sample, spraying with eager, childish anticipation the pale yellow liquid, with its shimmering gold cap, I was immediately reminded of a favourite literary accompaniment to my teenager escapades pertaining to summer. It is a book involved in a strange ritualistic process which I am not ashamed to share with you. With each passing summer in the course of my life so far, this book has been my introduction to the joys and anticipations of a summer spent in the sensuous atmosphere of southern Europe. A book that keeps me young at heart. Every June it gets pulled off the shelf to rapidly leaf through it and remind myself of the hopes and longings of its precious characters of three teenager girls, who search for their inner core through the little adventures of first loves and self-discovery in the milieu of then rural, now uptown suburb of Kiffisia, where they are vacationing with their divorced mother, their artistic and pretentious aunt and their dotting but love-hurt grandfather through three consecutive summers.
The book is called "Three Summers"/"The straw hats" (the latter is the literal translation from Greek) by Margarita Lymperaki, a Francophile Greek writer.
Please read a bit about it courtesy of boutique.info-grece.com:

"That summer we bought big straw hats. Maria's had cherries around the rim, Infanta's had forget-me-nots, and mine had poppies as as fire. When we lay in the hayfield wearing them, the sky, the wildflowers, and the three of us all melted into one..."
"Three Summers" is the story of three sisters growing up in Greece: their first loves, lies, and secrets, their shared childhood experiences and their gradual growing apart. Maria, the oldest, is strong, sensual, keenly aware of society's expectations. Infanta is beautiful, fiercely proud, aloof. Katerina is spirited, independent, off in a dream world of her own. There is also the mysterious Polish grandmother, the wily Captain Andreas, the self-involved Laura Parigori... Katerina tells the story of these intertwined lives with imagination, humour, deep tenderness, and a certain nostalgia. "Three Summers" is a romance with nature, with our planet. It is the declaration of a young girl in love with life itself.

The book is available here.

Tuberose Gardenia reminded me of exactly that book. There is an innocence and a wiling beauty in it simultaneously. It encompasses elements of all three girls, as it smells fresh, creamy, soft and inviting, yet also assured and independent.

White florals are an agony, an ache, an olfactory rape almost. They tend to grab you and place their hooks on you or else repel you and make you coil in desperation.
As Colette famously wrote:

"She, the tuberose. She would set off on the sirocco wind, cross the road, force open my door with all her flowerly might and softly climb the stairs...a cloud of dreams burst forth and grows from a single, blossoming stem, an unthreatened peace"

And gardenia, with its elusive white creamed clotted density amidst green buds rotting ever so sweetly on the jacket lapel of a dark handsome stranger who is meant to sweep you off your feet, is the flower of spiritual surrender.
Those two voluptuous blossoms dominate the heart and soul of Lauder's new fragrance, never betraying their nature, yet remaining ever soft and very wearable, unlike the olfactory typhoon of assertive Fracas. An initial fresh opening that is reminiscent of lemon groves overlooking countryhouses where potted tuberoses are kept takes you on a journey to an inner closed court with a fountain, Moor-style, where gardenias are kept in big pots. Their aroma mingling night and languor, beckoning you, beguiling you. The gardenia accord smells surprisingly true in this. There is no tropical ambience a la Carnal Flower by F.Malle, a tuberose with which I am nevertheless flirting shamelessly, nor is there the airiness of the lighter Do Son by Diptyque which is more suited to the intense heat of late summer.
Tuberose Gardenia combines freshness and ever so slight spicy richness in linear laps of sillage-worthy swims into a vat of smooth vanillic cream.

Official notes:
neroli, lilac, rosewood, tuberose, gardenia, orange flower, jasmine, white lily, carnation and vanilla bourbon.

Tuberose Gardenia launches in August and will be available in bottles of Eau de Parfum in 30/1oz or 75ml/2.4oz and Parfum extrait of 30ml/1oz in a beautiful bottle of gold bearing gems encrusted to it, which has been inspired by a Josef Hoffmann jewel brooch.
The line is to be completed by a Body cream and a solid perfume.
Click here to see the beautiful packaging.


Pic originally uploaded on MUA by lipslikesugar, pic of gardenia originally uploaded by Indie perfumes blog

The experiment that puts an itchy rash on the buttocks of science

Reading through other people's thoughts and experiences sometimes reverts you to your own. I was browsing though Andy Tauer's blog, reading about how he was subjected to a series of theater commercials prior to watching "The Manchurian Candidate" and how "Axe reduces women to helpless perfume victims".

With his usual candour and grace he commented:

In a sense, Axe (=Lynx) is very honest about things. Some of us dream this dream of fragrances as a pheromone bomb. Well,…forget it. I would rather recommend (if at all) looking at fragrances as aphrodisiac. But wait, maybe I am wrong and my skin is just too cheesy to lead to an Axe effect. hmmm…I never was a perfume victim so far.

Which brought me to my own thoughts on this. I was watching the completely bonkers and terrifically entertaining British TV show "Brainiac" the other day and ~lo and behold!~ there they were trying to examine just what power olfaction has in sexual attraction. For those unfamilliar with the show (self-consiously tagged "science abuse") I have to say that they take science (proper, good old-fashioned science if you can believe it) and mix it up really well in a blender of dry wit, British sarcasm and crazy ideas that involve blowing up sausages to make a quick breakfast with pyrotechnics, using rollers and wheel armchairs equipped with carbon dioxide propellants to examine which one is faster, pub experiments that would probably earn you banishment from all pubs in the future and other similar assorted brilliant ideas. Ah...the British wit!

To revert to this particular experiment, however, it entailed this concept: one pretty girl was blindfolded and told to pick between three unknown to her candidates (specimen was more likely, but more on that later) for a date, based only on their smell. Sounds "scientific" enough (enter sarcasm), even though we're just dealing with one girl, let's not forget...
As we, the passive audience, browsed through the candidates we witnessed an ugly chap with very bad teeth (is this still prevalent in Britain, I wonder? I though it was an Austin Powers 60s touch...) drenched in synthetic pheromone (androstenone to be exact). Places to be sprayed: armpits, neck, chest and...crotch.
The second one was an otherwise likable midget who had to be placed on a stool as to not betray his being vertically challenged. He was wearing a commonly used unspecified aftershave, per the commentator.
The third one was the complete antithesis of the other two physically, as he looked as if he had stepped out of a Men's Health editorial: all bulging biceps and pecs, clean cut and shaved torso, nice looking mug, if not great. This one was directed to indulge into assorted gymnastics so he could build a good sweat (clean sweat of a recently bathed body, we presume...but no guarantees).

After this short demonstration the pretty blonde entered the scene and proceeded to sniff (but not sratch!) all of them one by one.
I know most of you are waiting wondering whom she did pick in the end.
Well, it ain't what you think it was......
The first one she proclaimed to be smelling of stale beer and quite drunk! (save those bucks, guys, on getting that miraculous pheromone!) The second one she said smelled nice. About the third one (which for some perverse reason I thought stood the most chances) she turned her nose up and proclaimed he smelled dirty. (maybe that lack of recent bath, there???)
So, imagine her surprise when they took off the blindfold to see that the exquisitely scented specimen was the midget with the common aftershave.

Axe/Lynx (the latter is the british brand name under which this circulates) must be on to something...To witness watch their hilarious sexist clips of their brilliantly conceived campaigns.
Click the screen

or go here.



or go here.


Personally I think Axe/Lynx is the stuff of the devil, olfactory speaking, but who said the Dark Prince doesn't have his own cheesy appeal?



Pic courtesy of Sakopetra.com
Clips courtesy of Youtube.

Vero profumo line ~Onda: fragrance review

As we discussed the other day, Vero Kern is a very talented perfumer in the horizon of niche perfumery. She interweaves elements of surprise in her creations that astonish and make you immediately see that here lies a complex naturalistic composition that is meant for your intricate exploration.
And her talent shows through in her rich scent Onda.
Onda means wave in Spanish and Italian, while in the phrase “Que onda?” it means “what’s up”? In summary, don’t get swayed by the name, because it’s meant to signify that you should close your eyes and inhale deeply the kaleidoscopic journey that Onda is bringing on.

Deep within the Java jungle a great big tiger awaits: the rumour is that she is a man-eater, the fear and tremor of the country folk. It’s been some years that she roams the countryside assaulting her innocent victims; she’s a seasoned one, that one.
It’s very rare that you see her, hidden as she is through dark foliage, stepping on wet ground that doesn’t leave footprints behind. Yet, there she is…
It is with awe and amazement that you come to set eyes upon her when walking; her thick warm fur, her contrasting colours , her magnetic eyes that lure you and make you stare like an hypnotised novice in front of a cobra. The air is filled with the aromas of grass and roots: pungent vetiver that is uprooted, bundled and tied with ribbons, emitting a scent of earthiness and primeval dirt, like the soil on which no man has set foot on before. Mace pods have been crushed into your pocket as you stand there in your hardy leather chaps and as you put your hands out of it you suddenly realise that you are sniffable from the distance. Is your fate sealed? Will the man-eater attack? It all depends on your attitude. The bitter and carnal smell of what seems to be ambrette seeds interwoven with honeyed notes makes the approaching achingly desirable, even though you know of the grave danger you risk. The tiger approaches, sees you and appraises you. Stares you deep in the eyes with her own the colour of gems. You’d doomed. She’s one beautiful creature. And as she sits there you realise that today is your lucky day. You will be saved after all. Your amulet of Onda is safe-keeping you with its deep, erotic animalic smell. The musk that lies in its heart and makes you revert to a time of pre-lapsarian carnality with no shame.
You’re one of them! And out in the urban jungle to hunt for prey alongside her.

Onda manages to convert vetiver into a leathery animal that will make you forget all the citrusy, green interpretations you have already experienced by other perfumers (Guerlain Vetiver, Carven Vetiver) and stop you in your tracks as you come back to the original meaning of it: deep earthy roots, animalic undertones, rich pungency.
It will be difficult to pull for many as it requires a very self-assured woman to wear it and one with an attitude that is as far away from prudent as possible. However it is so unique that it merits to be tested even by those who say they cannot do these formulas. Less sweet that the admirable middle-eastern version of Vetiver Oriental by Serge Lutens or the very interesting, smoothed out Vetiver Tonka by Hermes; and very potent~ it can transport you to other places and images and make a statement for which you need never be apologetic about. And it lasts and lasts. If you have “it”, set out and charge.


Vero Profumo fragrances can be sampled/bought in Switzerland and neighbouring countries through the site. You can also contact Vero at profumo@veroprofumo.com.
Plans to bring the line to the US are scheduled for mid 2008.
Prices for Onda extrait de parfum are 105 euros for 7.5ml and 165 euros for 15ml.


Next post will tackle another Vero Kern perfume.

Top pic photography by Art Wolfe courtesy of allposters.com
Bottom pic by Helmut Newton collection Sex and Landscapes courtesy of temple.edu

Vero profumo line ~Kiki: fragrance review

The new niche line I have promised you is none other than Vero Profumo, the spiritual child of Vero Kern, a Switzerland based aromatologist and Paris trained perfumer under the mentoring of none other than famous legend Guy Robert.
I was immensely flattered to find that Vero had been browsing my blog from time to time and as conversation about perfume has a way of broadening horizons and make leaps into the territory of the unknown, I came to virtually meet this kind, eloquent, thoughtful person and try out the precious perfumes.

The introduction that is offered on the impressive and quite artistic site (click here to take a look) is very telling of the motivation that exists behind any intelligent, artful creation. Because perfumery is commerce, but in this day and age we so often forget that it is also an art form: something that does not take account so much the name, the image, the advertising budget and subsequent campaign as the topmost qualities to determine the impact of a scent in the market, but also a product that can bring elation and beauty in one's life at the spritz of an atomiser. As Vero so rightfully says:

"Fragrances and aromas are with us all the time, wherever we go. They can touch us emotionally, even seduce us, and they influence our wellbeing.
Perfume is more than a temporary accessory. It is an unseen "calling card" representing your personality. An imaginary embrace, a "folie a deux" or maybe even a liaison dangereuse. A "je ne sais quoi" that follows like the tail follows a comet".

Indeed unravelling the ties that make up a beautiful composition is like opening up an oyster to find a luminous pearl hidden inside; hidden from the world for the delectation it seems of an inward need. Vero uses precious essences and natural compounds as much as possible realising that the quinta essentia that those materials harbour in their core is accounting for a richer, more multi-nuanced experience than the one rendered by only aromachemicals as is the case with most mainstream perfumery. Of course the synthetic molecules out of a lab can also be used to great aplomb and in this line they are not excluded, but they do not take center stage; rather aid the main act like a chorus in ancient drama ~echoing the main theme, commenting subtly on the protagonists, offering some coaxing when needed.
Her line of perfumes includes three loveable creations in extrait de parfum concentration that captured me in varying degrees: Kiki, Onda and Rubj. Each individual and unique, yet all bonded by an artistic signature that accounts for a certain style through the line. And that is usually the mark of someone who knows what they're doing.
There is a desire to revert to the classicism of yore that provided masterpieces that endure, yet seen through a modern look that makes them awaken the emotions of a contemporary sensibility.

It is in this context that I came upon Kiki, a precious gem of a perfume that has me hooked and hankering for a note that I am usually averse to: namely, lavender. As readers of PerfumeShrine may recall, Andy Tauer's Rêverie au Jardin is one of the few lavender scents that have managed to capture my heart exactly because he managed to render a soft embrace out of it, caressed in a warm scarf worn around the neck on a cool evening strolling along a peaceful garden with a loved one.

If Andy's lavender is a casual, feel good scent that is to be shared with your long-time lover while holding hands and breathing the evening provencial air, making dreams about the eminent future, envisioning a cozy existence of loving sharing, Kiki is more extroverted and naughty signifying the attitude of an illicit couple out for a good time in the city of Light, Paris.
Although lavender is herbaceous and somewhat medicinal by nature (albeit the user of most commercial mass-market products would be hard pressed to realise that, as it is usually swamped by synthetic vanillin to make it cuddly), in Kiki it is clear and distinct for a long while but never becomes bitter nor unpleasant. The undercurrent of a bodily warmth hides in there and some muskiness that retains the sweet smell of sheets in which you have rolled over with your lover and later eaten on while on a Paris tantalizing naughty trip. It is redolent of sexy but classy lacy underwear in ivory that has been kept in those powdered-scented big cardboard boxes with tissue paper, to be used with the sole intent of getting out of it real soon. And if there is some caramel suryp in the room, it will see good use as well.

As the scent progresses interweaving elements of slightly sweet fruity notes that do not overwhelm it becomes intoxicating, like a promenade along the Rive Gauche and the Monmarte, trying to visualise the infamous Kiki de Montparnasse (real name Alice Prin) and her crazy 1920s days: a model, a lover, a nightime queen.
The lasting power and sillage are amazing, as this wafts caramely whiffs with powdery opoponax-patchouli accords throughout the day and into the night, whispering sweet nothings into the ear of the object of a dangerous and irresistible affair. As it can be shared by both sexes, it becomes a memento of a time spent in pure sensualism and pleasure in the big city. Who would have thought that when saying "lavender"? I knew you wouldn't be able to come up with an answer to that one...



Vero Profumo fragrances can be sampled/bought in Switzerland and neighbouring countries through the site. You can also contact Vero at profumo@veroprofumo.com.
Plans to bring the line to the US are scheduled for mid 2008.
Prices for Kiki extrait de parfum are 105 euros for 7.5ml and 165 euros for 15ml.


Next post will tackle another Vero Kern perfume.



Top pic from film Hors de Prix, courtesy of athinorama.gr
Pic of Kiki courtesy of kaismart.com/journal

Orange Blossom week: part 2 - sexy aromas

What is it that links orange blossom to sexy aromas? Many of the interpretations of this note in perfumery take advantage of the naturally lush and sexual aroma of the blossoms and in our investigation of this subject we have come up against many interesting tidbits of information that might help elucidate why and how.

The use of perfume as an enhancement and not concealement of genitalia and hormone odours has been in practice till ancient times. It was the knowledgable ancient Egyptian women who used Kyphi rolled in miniscule balls, placed in the vulva. They also used amber mixes and civet. The Hindus also used the smell of female genitalia as a classification point for women, in which no one is left unappareciated. In Shakespeare's times it was common for men and women to offer apples to the object of their affection that had been saturated in the sweat of the armpit. That was meant to be a signification of desire and perhaps an early attempt at judging whether the prospective lover's pheromones would intermingle well with their sensibilities.
In the Memoirs of Casanova, we come across an observation that there is a hidden something in the air of a lover's bedroom that would make it very easy to choose between it and Heaven itself. So much is the infatuation that a beloved's body produces in the soul. And on that note who can forget the infamous epistle of Napoléon to Joséphine when he passionately wrote to her: "Je réviens en trois jours; ne te lave pas!" (I return in three days, don't wash yourself)
Anais Nin and Henry Miller were no strangers to the alchemical nature of the odorata sexualis of a lover that can be enhanced by perfume and Nin's personal choice of Caron's Narcisse Noir (a fragrance rich in orange blossom)and Guerlain's Mitsouko shows an appreciation for blends that enhance a person's natural sexual aroma. Beaudelaire, Flaubert (who kept the mittens of his mistress on a drawer for sniffing purposes), Goethe and Reiner Maria Rilke are also literature figures that occupied themselves with the fragrant nature of seduction.
Even in our more pedestrian times the allure of the erotic has been used to great effect in advertising. From Schocking by Schiaparelli to Ambre Sultan by Lutens to Boudoir by Westwood, many perfumes have claimed to capture in fragrant droplets the odorata sexualis of a woman for seduction purposes. Last olfactory example of this being Tom Ford' attempt at it when he proclaimed that his last fragrance Black Orchid was supposed to smell of a man's crotch. I think not, but hey, you have been warned!

Of course like a plethora of things in life much of the effect of something relies on context. Meaning that leaving youself unwashed would not shill your charms to potential lovers necessarily if some particular smell is not pleasant to them or the sweat is rank. It all has to do with delicate proportion and adjustment. In a fascinating experiment by Paul Jellineck, recounted in Essence and Alchemy, people had been asked to smell versions of well-known frags such as Quelques Fleurs by Houbigant and a traditional eau de Cologne with and without the addition of neroli. In the former case the neroli just mingled with the other floral substances adding a fresh note and balancing them, whereas in the latter it seemed sultry and rich and therefore erotically nuanced. This goes to show that although there is a clear cut path to lust and sexuality, eroticism in perfume as in any other area is complex and subtle, dependent on context and associations that need a delicate hand in placing them there.

So how orange blossom is linked to all these exciting observations? Let me shock you a bit in case you were unaware of the fact. Orange Blossom (as well as jasmine) is filled with the fascinating indole.
According to Encyclopedia Brittanica:

Indole, also called Benzopyrrole, is a heterocyclic organic compound occurring in some flower oils, such as jasmine and orange blossom, in coal tar, and in fecal matter. It is used in perfumery and in making tryptophan, an essential amino acid, and indoleacetic acid (heteroauxin), a hormone that promotes the development of roots in plant cuttings. First isolated in 1866, it has the molecular formula C8H7N.

It is this base ingredient that is so abundant in white florals -among them orange blossom to a moderate degree- that apparently gives a nod to the human aspect of our existence and reminds us of our primeval objects in life: to have sex and procreate. In this context it is no accident that orange blossom is traditionally used in wedding wreaths, as discussed yesterday.
Therefore if a catcall to carnality is your objective, yet you want to go about it more discreetly than resorting to civet (the pungent extract of the anal glands of a species of the Viverridae shaped like a small fox and native to Abysinnia, Java, Borneo, Sumatra and Bengal and farmed in Ethiopia for perfume purposes), orange blossom can be a Heaven sent destined to confine you in the abyss of Hell.

For this purpose there is no better choice than the rich, sultry, lush and totally feminine with a capital F Fleurs d'oranger by Serge Lutens. Luckily a part of the export line, but also available in a beautiful bell jar in the exclusive Palais Royal for Shiseido line of scents, it is the essence of classy sexiness captured in a bottle. Like a woman of mature wiles sitting under an orange grove contemplating serious romance and seduction it is multi-nuanced with precious essences of white jasmine and indian tuberose that enhance the indolic aspect to magnificent proportions, laced with the sprinkle of fiery spice like cumin and nutmeg rolled in tangy citrus peel, all the while exuding aromas of muskiness and floralncy in alrernative overlappings like the tongue of a skillful lover. The inclusion of rose and hibiscus seeds consolidates the velours aspect of a base that never really leaves the skin, reminding you of happy romance even after it is just a distant memory in the farthest corners of your mind.


Next post will tackle another aspect of orange blossom.

Art photography by Spyros Panayiotopoulos, courtesy of eikastikon.gr

Reverie au Jardin by Tauer: fragrance review

This must be the first review of Andy Tauer’s newest perfume in the line-up of his marvellous creations as I was honoured to receive samples of it ahead of time and I must admit that with each and every one of them Andy manages to evoke a different landscape and a distinct mood.
Andy worked on Rêverie au Jardin for quite a while, informing us through his blog about the process of creation which I find fascinating and a first batch that was kindly sent to me affirmed that he was working on something different than his previous offerings which were exploring the ambery musty rose (Le Maroc pour elle), the beloved dry and yet ever changing mysterious depth of L’air du desert marocain, the multi-facetious image of tarry leather (Lonestar memories) and the earthy delights of Orris.
This was an exploration into the depths of lavender, that classic note between herb and flower that is so often used in men’s colognes, yet it remains a conundrum as to how to interpret it in a fresh and modern way.
The name of the perfume which translates as Daydream in the Garden gives half the game away as the green promise is there, yet there are hidden pleasures to await in that secret garden still.

As Andy himself describes it in the accompanying flyer: “Rêverie au Jardin, a classical fragrance. Twinkling like a star. Caresses your journey though green lands”.
His vision was to create something that interpolates other interesting notes into the context of lavender from the high French Alps in order to show the bloom “in all its facets ranging from herbaceous, spicy green notes to sweet, clean flowers and woody, vibrant chords. I wanted to create a fragrance that captures this complexity and transform it into a perfume. A perfume that melts into the skin, and makes me dream of green lands and twinkling stars.”

It is perhaps time to admit that lavender is a note that rarely if ever catches my interest. Its medicinal character in the raw as well as that of clary sage as well is something that reminds me of mentholated back rubs for alleviating a cold and humidifiers brought in to calm affected sinuses and moody dispositions. It’s no secret I have long been tonsillitis-challenged ever since my childhood and thoughts of that ambience bring me back to unpleasant gulping with difficulty.
However lavender doesn’t have to breach into the medicinal and it can be warm and fresh as well with many admirable qualities; I believe Andy has captured most of them in this new offering.

The first batch I had received months ago was quite incensy and deep and it did not feature too much of the lavender-galbanum opening that the finished product does, which is certainly greener and crisper.
As the final product Rêverie au Jardin is first spritzed on skin a very fresh note of true essential oil of lavender hits the nostrils with the promise of green open lands and clear air like that on the Alps. The inclusion of galbanum, that bracing note of “tossed green salad” according to perfume guru Arctander that is makes a tour de force in Germaine Cellier’s classic Vent Vert is adding to the greenness and there is also a slight citrusy and spicy quality in there which is very welcome.
Yet soon the stroll along the green reveals hidden assets of a warmer nature, like clasping hands of a loved one and inhaling a little human warmth amidst the roses, the iris and the blooms. It is too often that a perfumer is at fault of opting for over-attending either to the top notes in order to catch an audience’s attention or alternatively the base notes in order to make the scent memorable and lingering. In Reverie au Jardin the progression is smooth and justified culminating in heart notes that feature the original incense mood of the first batch, without turning the perfume to a different olfactory family as it happens with Encens et Lavande by Lutens, a perfume that starts as a classic medicinal manly lavender to turn abruptly into an oriental mystic crypt.
In Tauer’s case there is less a desire to shock and more a desire to evoke a uniform vision. The progression into the base notes is seamless from the warm musky heart that is due to the rare and costly hibiscus abelmoschus seed (ambrette seeds, which were explored recently in Chanel’s no.18 from Les Exclusifs with more alarming results) culminating into woodier and balsamic accords of which rich sandalwood is more distinct to my nose married to a sweetish and cosy element which I find out derives from the lovely tonka bean, rich in vanillic undertones with a slight almondy touch, like a cosy cashmere scarf wrapped around the neck as the cool breeze is blowing upon dusk .
Andy also includes oakmoss absolute (to his credit!), vetiver, ambergris and cedar which undoubtedly contribute to the complexity and anchoring of the scent, yet they do not make their presence known per se which is testament to a good blend and a smooth development on skin.

The lasting power of the Eau de Parfum is quite good, with the warmer elements remaining poised for long, while the lavender never ceases to sing atop of them in varying degrees of pitch and it stays within a comfortable radius of the wearer meaning you won’t offend with the sillage but you will also definitely be able to smell yourself without gluing your wrists to your nose all the time.
Andy Tauer uses mostly natural ingredients, natural CO2 extracts, high quality essential oils, absolutes and resinoids. The result is evident in the luxury of the finished product that is as distanced from bourgeois as possibly but never veering into the faux-artistic that so many niche lines pass for novelty and innovation.
His Reverie au Jardin is truly beautiful and I can see myself, a self-proclaimed lavender foe getting a bottle of the cleverly, hip packaged scent for the summer season and revelling into green thoughts of faraway emerald lands.

Rêverie au Jardin officially launches April 21st 2007 and will be available from:

Luckyscents, Los Angeles, USA, click here

Luilei, New York, USA, click here

Eie Flud, Uppingham, UK, click here

Aus Liebe zum Duft, Bruchsal, Germany, click here

Tauer perfumes, Zurich, Switzerland, click here

Medieval art & vie, Zurich, Switzerland, click here

You can also visit this page to download the flyer, the bottle and the packaging of the new Tauer perfume.


Pic is of Holy Maze at Governor's Palace sent to me via email.

Glorious stink

The ebb and flow of human taste and its modus operandi is an undecipherable commodity. What is considered appealing and desirable and what is not doesn’t obey any quantitative measure. Which of course accounts for trends, market research and lost fortunes in wrong assumptions side by side with the successful lucky guesses.
The same applies to smell and fragrance. More pointedly so when the aromas emanating from someone are of a more intimate nature.

Ever since the dawn of humanity homo sapiens has shared the biological fate of his ancestors in the olfactory field. His sense of smell has primarily directed him to opt for the healthy game and fresh produce and avoid the stale and rotten. It is also possible that it has directed him via odorata sexualis to suitable mates through which procreation might be consummated with the imperceptible help of pheromones, aroma materials that are emanated by individuals to attract. For millennia man has been content to do just that.

And then civilization came into the picture. In the great civilizations of antiquity such as Egypt, Greece and Rome, the desire to distance oneself from the animal nature and embrace the humane, as manifested in science, philosophy and the arts, has made man take measures as to maintain a level of cleanliness that is beyond the mere necessity of survival. All those civilizations have been very hygienic indeed, if we take into mind that there was no running hot water and no bubble baths in a million permutations.
Yet Herodotus talks about how the ancient Egyptians of his time bathed regularly shaving their body hair and even their scalps as to not let perspiration nestle in intimate parts of the body and fester bacteria (OK, he did not use the word bacteria precisely). How they had inward lavatories for their needs and how they took pains to maintain hygiene there. How they used sweet scented oils and incense to accompany the dead to their last dwelling place on earth.
The Greeks were by no means less clean. They too -living in a warm climate- had been taking regular baths using silver and golden basins followed by massage with aromatic oils of thyme and basil at every possible occasion, cleaning their clothes in the rivers with ash and aromatic herbs as described in the Odyssey and equating hygiene with sanity and longevity. Numerous are the mythological tales of gods and goddesses taking baths while mortals gazed hidden. It was Galenos who invented the first bar of soap mixing crushed flower petals, olive oil and ash from burnt logwood.
Ancient Rome was the apex of public baths, in which people of all ages intermingled and talked about state matters in elaborate buildings divided in unctuarium (where they chose the unguents with which they would groom themselves), the frigidarium (cold bath) and the caldarium (hot bath) and then on to the labrum for the final cold shower.
Even lavender that clean smelling herb is named after the roman word for bathing, because of its ubiquitous use.
The tradition of the bath as a civilization index is no more apparent that in Tacitus’ opus Germania where he mentions with some disdain that Germanians, considered barbarians at the time, bathed in rivers. At least they did bathe! Which is more than can be said for the squalor and filth in which Medieval Europe lived for centuries after the fall of Rome.

While Islam reveled in the luxuries of bathing (aided by the religious prerequisite to clean one’s head, hands and feet before every prayer, a phenomenon that occurs with frequent regularity throughout the day), western Europe inaugurated a practice of not washing up one’s body at all, for which the church can be found to be a great culprit.
Maintaining that mixed baths (as were previously tentatively explored) were corrupting the soul and that tending to one’s genitals might lead to impure thoughts, they condoned the absence of bath as a means of chastity while at the same time they traditionally equated holiness with the sweet smell of myrrh and incense. How those two could co-exist is beyond me, but this is not the only paradox one comes up against if one explores the matter further.

It was as late as 1750 according to Alain Corbin and his book “Le Miasme and la Jonquile”, which explores the adventure of sanitation and the desodorisation of society, that the élite chose to distance itself from the foul stench of the gutters and disease that were abundant in the crowded -by then- cities of France. A taste for the aroma of deer musk or of catty civet and of pure country air mingled in what was to become the height of French perfumery. The impression of cleanliness underscored by the reminder that we are all human, full of smells that could be perceived as disgusting in their pure state.
However perfumes seemed to be necessary still to repel the germs and bacteria through their cleansing properties as the tradition of filth continued, albeit a bit subdued: at least the clothes were as freshly clean as possible.
Louis XIV was said to have only bathed two times in his whole long life despite asking his guests and courtesans to wear a different perfume every day and the mere thought disgusts us today, earning a reputation of filth for Frenchmen which sadly has not been totally shifted if I judge by the miniscule pieces of sanitary paper that come out - one at a time!!- through the automatic devices at French toilets today.
On the other hand there was also an allure of the animalic and forbidden in similar practices when Napoleon infamously wrote to Josephine: “Je reviens en trois jours; ne te laves pas!” (I return in three days; don’t wash yourself).
The pair of them began a vogue for heavier smells as Josephine was madly in love with the smell of musk, to the point that her boudoir at Malmaison still has an aura of the aromatic essence present. Napoleon on the other hand preferred her in violets.

The Victorian age reveled in pure and simple smells as a contrast to the more decadent Empire style, using single floral waters (soliflores) for men and women alike. But it was the Puritans more than anyone else that began the hysteria for cleanliness with their desire to eliminate all traces of animalic tendencies from man. Sadly this is an insurmountable task, as the human body has to produce bile and bacteria to break down food which accounts for a smell that cannot be completely eradicated however hard one tries.
Indoor plumbing and hot water at the click of a button made taking baths an easy and swift procedure that is as an automatic reflex for today’s men and women as brushing one’s teeth. Technological progressions made the manufacture of industrial strength deodorants to put under one’s armpits as a necessity of every day life that is a god sent if you’re ever stuck up in a crowded underground wagon on a hot day of August. Perfumed products in an array of mind arresting variety are manufactured to lure as in and buy more, more, more…

And yet in all that progress we seem to have lost what has once been ours in ancient years: the conjugation of mind and body, the clean with the human.
The examples of complete perfume bans in offices in latter days, the denial of the sensual and natural in favour of the sanitized and deodorized has permeated every single aspect of today’s life. Everything around us is artificially scented with a chemical aroma that defies every law of nature. We scrub fanatically to remove any trace of human smell from our bodies and then we apply perfumed products that would supposedly give us back what nature intended to give us in order to attract a mate. We seek to find “clean” but at the same time “sexy” smells. Above all we do not want to offend. Being accused of smelling of body odour is the height of mortification for anyone beyond infancy. (since kids do not really “smell”; there have to be sexual hormones at play to do that…)
In an overcrowded planet that has no room for any more bodies, this was to be expected.
And this is what accounts for the recent resurgence of perfumes that aim to regress in the stink and funk of our human condition: from the goat-y magnificence of Muscs Kublai Khan by enfant gaté Serge Lutens to the dirty smell of Kiehl’s Musk eau de toilette and from the soft caress of a slightly sweaty body that has been active in human activities of L’air de rien by Miller Harris (with the collaboration of Jane Birkin) to the gimmicky Sécretions magnifiques by état libre d’Orange which recalls semen and blood (sounds the recipe for some tabloid article)…

It is clear that one yearns for what one is denied of. And the reason why isn’t very hard to see.


Artwork by Patric Boivine for CGnetworks.com

Ava Luxe Madame X: a fragrance review

There are some perfumes that sing of female emancipation, of confidence, cool and the power of the go-getter. They are high brow at all circumstances, they are professional yet elegant, the mark of a successful woman in all areas. They have class, sophistication, refinement and a je ne sais quoi that sets them apart and makes them the object of admiration.
Madame X by Ava Luxe is not one of them.

Instead it recalls all the carnal knowledge that has a primitive root in out psyche, the call of the wild, the chase, female surrender, complete abandonment in the open arms of hell. Like an erotic adventure in a distant bruised past it has the rare ability to entice with the memory of the basest and lowest one has ever been to and actually had fun out of it. To call something sexy is a cliché and we do not condone clichés at Perfume Shrine, at least to the measure that is within our abilities. Madame X has none of the mysterious aura of a femme fatale nor the coolness of her calculating demeanour. She is no Bridget Gregory /Wendy Kroy from "The Last Seduction", as played by Linda Fiorentino, cool as a cucumber and only acting vulnerable in order to get her case made, improvising with the same black goal all along.
Madame X is a vulnerable woman, all open for the plucking, a little mature, a little pained and you have to approach her with the fervour and candour of a considerate lover, that for reasons of his own would be willing to explore the possibilities of reaching God.




Her trail of soft, deep, sensual labdanum in all its erotic permutations blooms on the skin, coupled with the slight fresh pepperiness of coriander. The initial impression it made mingled the spicy jolt and sweet richness of Cinnabar combined with the depth and raunch of amber, vanilla, sandalwood and the civet accord of Obsession. I do love both of those perfumes so the association was not simply interesting but positively mesmerising. The leather is so soft it almost makes one shed a tear of longing, while the lasting power is good although the volume at which this gem projects is low and discreet.
The viscous consistency of a drop of parfum upon my skin held the fascination of the imaginary prototype virgin in Grenouille’s pursuit for perfection. I can be brazen and say that it has captured my heart and draws its strings as we speak. Were I a man I would fall deeply in love with the mature person that would only spontaneously raise her legs for a reason only she herself knows, allowing me to harvest her most precious essence: Madame X.

Madame X is described as a "sheer ambery veil of labdanum and leather that wears close to the skin but lingers through the night" by its creator and comes in Parfum and Eau de Parfum concentrations.

Official Notes: Coriander, Acacia Farnesiana, Freshly cut hay, Jasmine, Rose, Labdanum, Leather, Incense, Patchouli, Oakmoss, Civet, Ambergris, Castoreum, Sandalwood Mysore, Precious Musks, Vanilla

You can purchase samples or order directly from the Ava Luxe site here:
Ava Luxe index page

I know I for one am eager to explore more of her creations.


Pic of Charlotte Rambling originally upoaded on POL. "Last tango in Paris" comes from Brando fan-site.