Spices: Redrawing Flavor & Scent and Confounding the Mind

I have long communicated on these pages the idea that context makes for a powerful shift in our perception of fragrance and that is not only culturally, but quite literally true as well. A small inclusion of rum brings the catty whiff of blackcurrant buds in a herbal composition with mint. Violet and violet leaf takes on the nuance of pale tea incorporated into the structure of a citrusy floral. The sweet fruitiness of pink jasmine takes on bubble-gym hues paired with nectarous floral notes. The fine bubbles of champagne bring out the flavor of strawberries and adding ground cinnamon and cardamom to cooked grains imparts a sweet, earthy depth.

It's perhaps just as well that fine cuisine has long capitalized on this interplay between sensory stimuli in a single dish to render dishes worthy of a Michelin guide star. Spices in particular hold a complex fascination; a currency in ancient times, prized for their ability to preserve sensitive materials, like meat, fish and fruit, they have not lost their mystical rapport with our innermost illusionist, combining in novel ways that bring out hidden attributes.

Source: acoustic-garden.tumblr.com via JY on Pinterest

Below please find excerpted from  “The Transformational Power of the Right Spice” by Alex Halberstadt in the New York Times magazine, a profile of “spice therapist” Lior Lev Sercarz and his shop La Boîte at the far west side of Midtown Manhattan.

 "When I wondered out loud about how much spices could really matter — weren’t they a mere flourish after the difficult work of cooking was completed? — Lev Sercarz invited me for a demonstration in his home kitchen. There, he seared filet mignon coated with Pierre Poivre (La Boîte Blend No. 7, with eight varieties of pepper); imagine an IMAX version of steak au poivre, the meat tasting the way neon looks. Then he did the same with Kibbeh (Blend No. 15, mostly cumin, garlic and parsley), and I could have sworn I was eating lamb: the mild tenderloin had turned gamy. That’s cumin, Lev Sercarz explained, which the palate tends to associate with lamb. Next he cooked a cube of salmon in olive oil infused with Ararat (Blend No. 35, with smoked paprika, Urfa chilies and fenugreek leaves), transforming it into something I would have guessed, with eyes closed, to be pork belly. That, he said, was the smoke. Spices, I was learning, not only behave as intensifiers and complicators but also, in the right hands, can redraw the boundaries of flavor and confound the brain. For the finale, Lev Sercarz dropped a pinch of Mishmish (Blend No. 33, with crystallized honey, lemon zest and saffron) into the bottom of a glass and covered it with an inch of lager. The bitterness and hoppy flavors were gone — the beer smelled and tasted like a gingerbread milkshake."

Clearly La Boîte is an experience I'm noting down for when I visit New York City. Aren't you?

Scent Two: Laurel by Monocle x Comme des Garcons: fragrance review

~by Mike Perez

As a lover of spice prominent fragrances, I find it extremely easy to enjoy the newest Monocle x Comme des Garcons collaboration, Scent Two: Laurel. I remember focusing on the laurel (bay leaf) accord in two other fragrances and being slightly disappointed: Aqua Allegoria Laurier Reglisse by Guerlain and Acqua Della Macchia Mediterranea by Borsari – the former being almost all licorice and no spice; and the latter being a wonderful fougere in it’s own right (in the vein of the fantastic [but discontinued] Calvin by Calvin Klein) but a bit too simple.

With Scent Two: Laurel I have found what I always hoped for in a laurel prominent scent. Realism, pungency and complexity.

The laurel note smells sundried, almost roasted in texture - with a bit of that oregano and/or thyme tickle and then starts off immediately blending with a strong and persistent ground peppercorn accord – all swirling underneath a sharp cedar note. It is this definitive sharpness that lasts for the first hour – a trademark of the Monocle x CdG fragrances that that showed up in Scent One: Hinoki, as eucalyptus and fresh cut wood. But this new release is much more aromatic. Fans of Lorenzo Villoresi’s heavy-handed aromatic fragrances (Spezie, Uomo) know exactly what I mean, because many of the LV scents typically smell raw, almost shockingly intense, and it is a style of perfumery that polarizes colognoisseurs. You either enjoy it or you don’t.

Hidden among the intensity of the spices, is a fresh-turned-earth accord: dirt, moss, and branches of trees on the ground. Certain types of vetiver conjure up that feeling for me, and yet STL has no vetiver at all. It’s more a feeling of natural, rugged earth. The spices smell like they have a bit of dirt still left on them – they are not in the kitchen to be used for food…they’re still being harvested in their raw, dry state.

If I smell my skin up close during the final dry down, I can make out a quite wonderful patchouli note and a tiny hint of crisp, salty amber. Pulling my nose away, the scent shifts back to its spices. Later on, I’m able to smell the incense, hovering in the background. I think it’s what Antoine Maisondieu (the perfumer) added that gives it an aura of calmness & tranquility. Supposedly the scent is based upon the scent of a vacation to Lebanon and that regions handmade, laurel scented soaps. I have not smelled these soaps but I do know the feeling a hot, soapy bath give me…especially one that leaves traces of fragrance on skin: refreshment, relaxation and simplicity. The same feelings evoked by this wonderful scent.


Scent Two: Laurel comes in a 50 ml atomizer. It can be purchased online at Luckyscent, The Perfume Shoppe and at the magazine’s online shop ($135).

Hermes Eau d'Hermes: fragrance review

The official site introduces Eau d'Hermès as "For me. For you. His and hers" and if an androgynous sensibility is already simpatico to you, the special Eau has the potential to surprise in other ways. Notoriously refered to as "that stinky Hermès" among perfume aficionados, this cologne has had a somewhat dimmed profile for many years, ever since its introduction in 1951 by renowned perfumer Edmond Roudnitska and still to this day enjoys a rather underground cult status.



The ~originally proficient in saddlery and leather goods~ luxury house has some of the most interesting Eaux around anyway, with the latest Eau de Pamplemousse Rose and Eau de Gentiane Blanche having me rave recently for their unassuming spontaneity and unassuming intellectualism, with the ultra-popular Eau de Merveilles with its saline note of ambergris and the mouthwatering Eau d'Orange Verte rounding out the edges. But the original Eau from 1951 is still a small marvel because it manages to recalibrate the Eau formula (a traditional recipe of herbs and hesperidia) into a dazzling kaleidoscope combining frank animal notes, spices, and the illusion of tobacco, a mirage that’s at once textured, elegant and "skanky". In some ways there is a bond with the famous fougère by Guerlain, Jicky: The proper lavender touch, the unabashed sexiness of civet, the contrast of old money and an almost cubist outlook. Only the sequence in Eau d'Hermès is in reverse ~first the objectionable part, then the sumptuous, dignified drydown! There is also kinship with some of the older lovely masculines in the line-up: Équipage and Bel Ami, which I also like very much.

Frankly I don't get much of the "dirty" vibe for which Eau d'Hermès is referenced myself, meaning it doesn't smell either really sweaty (rich though it is in cumin, the usual culprit as per received wisdom) or diaper-like/fecal (copious amounts of civet tend to do that). I get a finely tuned citrus-leather violin and piano duet with some white flowers peeking underneath discreetly. This might have to do with either my skank-eating skin or my seriously wrapped-up perception of what "dirty" really is (Apparently my threshold is rather raised in comparison to the average WASP sensibility, I've been told.) My money is on the second hypothesis, at any rate, and most Roudnitska creations with their improper parts always peeking through the layers seem to perform well. But as usual, try before you buy, because perception is everything when it comes to perfume appreciation and what's fine with me might be unbearable bathroom ambience to you. And cumino-phobiacs*, please beware!

The first bottle of Eau d'Hermès in my life was a gift from an artist friend who has a high brow in art issues and a low brow in matters of everyday commodities; which even now befundles me as to which end of the intellectual and aesthetic spectrum predominated when the choice for this gift was made! Eau d'Hermès is perfectly legible as a composition that doesn't trumpet its credentials in your face (there are luxury ingredients in it, but they never show off the bill, if you know what I mean), it nevertheless has some unusual streak which reminds me of another friend, a writer who hails from an old family tracing roots in the Byzantine Empire, and who likes to wear little hats cocked off-kilter and combine odd socks with her evening outfits. Bottom line, it conjures images of non-prim respectability, like an old, faded aristocrat who has the pissoir jugs displayed alongside the family china.

Notes for Eau d'Hermes: citrus, cumin, birchwood, moss, cedar, sandalwood, vanilla

Please take care not to confuse Eau d'Hermès with the semi-oriental Parfum d'Hermès from 1984 (in the round disk bottle) which is a completely different fragrance. The newest version rerworked by in-house perfumer Jean Claude Ellena is a bit more refined, a little more brainy and airy than the vintage, but still fantastically marvellous and arresting in the most incospicuous way. It is sold in all Hermes boutiques at an Eau de Toilette concentration, just ask for it.

Three different commemorative limited editions of Eau d'Hermès have circulated over the years, highly collectible and beautiful to look at. One is from 1993, depicted above, showing a rider upon a horse. Another is from 1994 with an etched Pegasus on the bottle depicted on the left, the other depicting the sun-carriage of Phaethon also etched on the crystal from 2001 depicted on the right. They're both available on Ebay right now for ridiculous amounts of money (A lesson for us all to stock up on rare limited editions instead of bonds, I guess).




















*Some of the other cumin/sweat-infested fragrances include: Kingdom (McQueen), L'Autre (Diptyque), Santal Blanc , Fleurs d'Oranger, Muscs Kublai Khan (Lutens), Declaration (Cartier), Timbuktu (L'Artisan), Gucci Eau de Parfum, Black Tourmaline (Olivier Dubrano), Rochas Femme (1984 reissue).

Paintings by the Spanish artist Juan Gris with music by Barry Mitchell performed by the Locrian Ensemble

Balenciaga Michelle: fragrance review & history

It is always with some astonishment that I find myself in a Wells-like universe while critically appraising fragrances from decades ago: the Balenciaga classic perfumes opus in particular is supremely refined in the grand manner (Quadrille, Prelude, Cialenga, and the more famous Le Dix), yet surprises lay hidden in less far off decades ~as recently as 1979, if 30 years ago can be seen as "recent". Michelle, created that year, as a posthumous homage to the great couturier who had died in 1972 and named after his favourite model, is a classic from the house reflecting values of another time.

Intense in its message, floral and oriental at once with a wink of aldehydes on top like topz eyes behind dark sunglasses, and weird in a sublime way, thanks to a ginormous tuberose and earthy rose in its heart, Michelle by Balenciaga shares a common element with that other fangled, musky and bitter tuberose of the 80s, Dior's Poison by nose Edouard Fléchier (1985); and to a lesser degree with the more vulgar Giorgio by Giorgio Beverly Hills, a fragrance that sadly traumatised a whole generation of teenagers into succumbing to watery ozonics in the hopes of escaping the deadly, miasma-like fumes of their mothers' scent which wafted from every taxi and every elevator to the point of suffocation.
As someone wittingly quipped, the first Dior Poison is "like road testing an Abrams M1 tank in the evening rush hour". To further that image, I should add that Giorgio is all of the above, but done in picturesque Dubrovnik, pre- the Yugoslavian War ravages, when it was a perfect specimen of UNESCO's Cultural Heritage collection of cities, pristinely preserved in formaldehyde.

Cristóbal Balenciaga (1895-1972), a Basque-born Spanish couturier renowned for his impecable attention to detail, his contempt for bourgeoisie status of the Chambre and referred to as "the master of us all" by Christian Dior himself, became famous for his architectural eye and ultra-modernity. The latter was especially exhibited in his "bubble skirts" and odd shapes, the "square coat", the swanlike collars and the "bracelet sleeves" among them. His fragrances reflected his demanding and sophisticated nature: they had character!

The nose behind Balecianga's Michelle is Françoise Caron, best known for Eau d'Orange Verte for Hermès, Kenzo by Kenzo (the original with the blossom-shaped stopper) and the reconstruction of Ombre Rose L'Original for Brosseau, but also for Montana's oriental mohair blanket Just Me and the popular oriental/gourmand Escada Collection. Her Gió for Giorgio Armani (1992) continues with the tuberose treatment so prevalent in the 80s and in a way reflects some of the aspects of Michelle without following it closely. Whereas Gió is nectarous, fruity and honeyed, Michelle is rather sharper, mossier and with that weird perfume-y note de tête which is commonly referred to in perfumephiliac parlance as the "bug spray accord". Both Poison in its foreboding purplish bottle and Giorgio in its yellow-striped kitsch shared this bug spray note: an aroma which had become so popular through the extensive usage of the above perfumes back then that manufacturers of instecticides in a reverse compliment (cheapening the formula) replicated in their...yes, you guessed it, bug sprays! The mental pathway wasn't difficult to lay and forever since bug spray ~and the perfumes that echo it~ have that characteristic sharp, needles-up-the-nose, bitter and strangely floral-from-outer-space tonality which has its fans and its detractors. The mental association isn't a personal favourite for reasons of overdosing on insecticides one memorable tropically-latituded summer in Bali many years ago, so although I admire that kind of fragrances intellectually it isn't something I am comfortable with wearing too often. Still in Michelle that bug spray accord is tempered and tamer, making it friendlier.

If by mentioning tuberose you cast your mind to the timeless Fracas by Piguet with its beautiful yet at the same time coloratura expansive and creamy night blossom, Tubéreuse Criminelle by Lutens with its mentholated, polished soie sauvage or Carnal Flower by F.Malle with its coconut and eycalyptus-ladden tropical ambience, then think again: Balenciaga's forgotten vintage extrait Michelle is none of those things and is a throwback to another era. Surprisingly, Michelle is also sprinkled with a pinch of spice, not listed, a cinnamon-like effect which somehow provides a sweet facet along with the vanilla, yet reinforces the bloody, metallic facets of the tuberose and the wet earthiness of the rose in tandem with moss. It wears beautifully in the heat and eases itself into the cooler days of approaching autumn.

The vintage extrait de parfum which is the concentration in my possession (in the design on the right) is extremely long-lasting and smooth, while the Eau de Toilette (circulating in the classic design of Balenciaga fragrances depicted here) smells about the same, but with a radiance and expansion which could become too much too soon in my opinion.

Notes for Balenciaga Michelle:
Top: Aldehydes, gardenia, green notes, coconut, peach
Heart: Carnation, tuberose, iris, orchid, jasmine, yalng ylang, rose
Base: Sandalwood, oakmoss, musk, benzoin, vanilla, vetiver

Michelle is discontinued, but makes sporadic appearences on Ebay and etailers. The Balenciaga house is currently part of the Gucci Group (part of Pineault Printemps Redoute). Popular again thanks to the success of the "Motorcycle bag" and Nicolas Ghesquiere design and is set to produce a new fragrance under the aegis of Coty fronted by Charlotte Gainsbourg, which questions the possibility of ever resurrecting Michelle.

Related reading on Perfume Shrine: Vintage perfumes, Fragrance history

Pic of vintage coat design by Cristobal Balenciaga via pairofchairs.wordpress.com and of Michelle flacon via ecrater.com

Amouage Epic for Women & Epic for Men: exclusive fragrance preview & review

It's no secret that Amouage, the Omani fim with a cult following, has impressed us with their dense, proudly classical compositions which hark back to an era of intense glamour and calculated style which by now seemed long-forgotten if not for them. As if one entered the Atlantis in Dubai and found out all the water faucets were of solid gold but made to look matte from a distance. After all, we have already lovingly reviewed the utterly gorgeous Jubilation 25 and the appealingly unusual baroque Ubar on these links, so there's no denying it.



The concept of the new Epic duo (in contrast to Ubar it is presented in both declinations, for men and women), explained when we scooped the news, is a fusion coming directly out of the Silk Route, the fabled course from China to the West through the hard desert soils of Arabia. The two new fragrances incorporate traditional Middle-Eastern notes of oud and frankincense, as well as tea and Chinese flowers representative of the Far East, like heroes crossing the steppes in their own personal quest for inward glory. Of the two I was much more swayed into contemplating a big bottle purchase by the magnificence of the feminine and let me explain why.

Amouage Epic for Men recalls an old-fashioned leathery (due to castoreum) fougère, a little reminiscent of Bel Ami or even Jules, with spicy accents and a light oud note throughout which is pleasing to me as the dense mustiness of oud usually leaves me with sensory overload unable to smell anything else. The spices, of the cool type, such as prominent cardamom, mace and nutmeg, along with the tea note, could have escaped from Cartier's Déclaration. But careful: in order to envision those notes in Epic one should picture the former's perfumer, Jean Claude Ellena, having gained a few pounds, accordingly acquiring a taste for heavier molecules and jotting down notes at a smoky oriental den where assistants bring in mysterious batches of eastern ingredients instead of the luminous and diaphanous atmosphere of Cambrais. The musky drydown phase of Epic for Men is sprinkled with incense, but the interplay of animalic with more austere elements stop it short of it being an erotic sense in the Kama Sutra sense of the word, although it possesses sensuality of its own. My man pronounced it "trying a bit too hard perhaps" despite its ~on the whole~ rather light and somber (rather than flamboyant) nature; which I deduce is his equating such scents with overt manifestations of masculinity when there is no need to. Although it is an easy entry into real oud and should have people approach it without fear, I think I prefer the more distinctive Jubilation XXV myself.

Amouage Epic for Women stands a magnificent specimen of artistic triumph for the house, its distinctive marriage of oud and rose perhaps the loveliest espousal of those precious ingredients on the market today.
The sophisticated, otherwordly character of this scent is immediately apparent, with the dark, velvety petals (underscored by complimentary geranium) unfurling into infinity under the gaze of medicinal and shadowy oud/oudh; the latter lending a strangely cool & warm aspect to the composition along with a nutty aftertaste. Greenish and fresher tonalities peek beneath the gauzy gowns like a gust of wind that surprises. This interplay of temperature has been a favoured game since at least the gothic Tubéreuse Criminelle, but it has come out to the fore again with another Lutensian composition we reviewed recently, the just launched Fille en Aiguilles. In Epic for Women the rounder ambery and floral elements underscored by a discreet sweetness conspire to produce an achingly beautiful synergy of brainy and sensuous elements fit for a princess. But its Parthian shot is there are no seductive stakes in the cards and this is a young, pensive woman (or man, who could wear this equally well) with an introspective, contemplative look who can fall hard for legends; "a faithfull heart who makes wishes come true".



Notes for Amouage Epic for Women: Cumin, pink bay, Damascena rose, cinnamon, geranium, jasmine, tea, amber, musk, incense, sandalwood, patchouli, vanilla, guiacwood, orris, aloeswood/oud.
Notes for Amouage Epic for Men:Pink pepper, cumin, cardamom, saffron, mace, nutmeg, myrtle, geranium, myrrh, aloeswood/oud, sandalwood, leather, incense, cedarwood, musk, castoreum.

The two flacons for Amouage Epic reflect the well-known design of the brand now interpreted in a luminous imperial green, the colour which is thought to protect from evil in the East, decorated with a Swarovski crystal. The Eau de Parfum is presented in 50ml/1.7oz and 100ml/3.4oz bottles. Soon at select boutiques and now online at the official Amouage site. If nothing else, click to watch the oneiric video of a woman dressed in flowing black gowns (with Japonesque makeup) accompanied by the grand 2nd movement of Beethoven's 7th Symphony.
The talented creative director of Amouage, mr.Christopher Chong informed us that he will be at the Pitti exhibition in Italy in September to answer the queries of perfume enthusiasts and present the new fragrances.

Related reading on Perfume Shrine: Amouage scents and news
Pic of Peter O'Toole and Omar Sharrif in Lawrence of Arabia via thecia.com.au

Divine Eau Divine: exclusive fragrance preview & review

Smelling the newest Divine creation on my wrists, the unisex Murano-like in its translucence Eau Divine, puts me in the mood for the upcoming vacations which can't come soon enough as far as I am concerned. The niche house of Divine was founded in the elegant Edwardian resort of Dinard, on the north coast of Brittany, France, by perfumer Yvon Mouchel: imagine a brand that issues whatever they want, whenever they want, without following a marketing plan nor frantically paced releases one after the other, all sold in a tiny shop off the beaten track! The essence of niche. Slowly but surely word of mouth made his first creation, Divine by Divine, a mini-cult that had discerning women worldwide searching for it and ordering directly from them. But what made parfums Divine so sought after, aside from the ~well...~divine name? It's hard to put into words: There is an old Hollywood glamour, entrancing and at the same time a little decadent, emanating from them ~ these are potent, old-school perfume-y fragrances with often a characteristic aldehydic thread spun through them which would have both Norma Desmond pleased and Daisy from The Great Gatsby feel at ease. This dichotomy is at the heart of Divine creations: dark yet piquant, airy or deep, sexy and contemporaneously refined, they fuse contrasting elements into a delicate pirouette that no matter how hard to perform, it appears seamless.

Eau Divine is the 9th instalment in this tale but it effortlessly breaks loose into more casual arpeggios, without betraying the tune. "Crystalline, the first notes emerge : from the top, Eau Divine combines the green coolness of Italian citrus with the sparkle of spices: star anise, rose hip, ginger and nutmeg. The heart of the pyramid is more tender. Orange flower and sweet violet prolong the pure energy of the first moments for a while but then delicately induce the subtle opening of deep notes. White amber, hot musk and labdanum only then reveal their lingering and generous sensuality".
I always felt that the word of Jean Claude Ellena, "generous" while describing the cologne style prevalent in the Mediterranean countries, is superbly fitting to evoke the giving, pleasurable nature of this genre: There is a feeling of sentir bien dans sa peau (feeling good in one's skin) which such compositions instantly bring out, making me envision holidays at some seaside resort at Saint-Jean-Cap-Ferrat, white terry robes and turban-style towel on hair, diva sunglasses on minus the "bling", while eating a hearty breakfast with freshly squeezed citrus juice and grated ginger served on lots of ice, lounging by the pool where fetching cabana boys are furtively assisting in their tight Speedos. Yet there is a cerebral element about it all too (a little incensy depth and the coolness of violet leaves plus an aldehydic overlay), like London-based detective-fiction writer Samantha Morton (played by the divine Charlotte Rampling in Ozon's Swimming Pool) overcoming her writer's block at her editor's retreat at Southern France; or people-watching gorgeous triad Alain Delon, Romy Schneider and Jane Birkin torn between love and crime in La Piscine (1969).
Surprisingly for this kind of fragrance the lasting power of Eau Divine is excellent: put on in the evening after my bath, there were still remnants on my skin by the next morning!

Prices start at 50 euros for 30ml up to 145 euros for 200ml in various styles: splash, spray or refillable spray. There is also a different presentation for men or women despite the unisex character of the juice itself.
The Divine line includes 4 fragrances for women: the original Divine by Divine (floral animalic with a peachy heart and vintage feel), L'être Aimé Femme (aldehydic floral with a core of immortelle), L'inspiratrice (dark rose with patchouli), L'infante (green sweet white floral), L'âme soeur (aldehydic floral, powdery); and 3 fragrances for men: L'Homme de Coeur (aromatic woody with iris), L'être Aimé Homme (an ode to immortelle, aromatic herbs and exotic woods) and L'Homme Sage (spicy woody with saffron). Eau Divine is their first offering intended for both men and women.

Apart from their Dinard original boutique (and another two in Saint Malo and Caen, France) there is also one in Paris: DIVINE 3 rue Scribe 75009 Paris+33 1 40 06 03 14. Parfums Divine are now sold in London, Berlin, Hamburg, Munich, Roma, Warsaw, New York, Los Angeles and Vancouver. You can see details at their official site or order directly (they ship worldwide)
For our readers I have 5 Eau Divine samples to give away to try it out. Leave a comment stating your interest.



In the interests of full disclosure, I was sent the samples by parfums Divine
Charlotte Rampling pic via us.movies1.yumg.com. Clip of La Pascine (1969)originally uploaded by 1985nicole on Youtube.

Let me Play the Lion by Les Nez: fragrance review

"Scents of dusty trails, of lightly sweetened ochre, of sun-weathered wood. Of silence swept by mild breezes, of skies open like an endless azure cut oozing signs of the coming storm". Thus is how Isabelle Doyen, perfumer for Les Nez (parfums d'auteurs), a niche brand from Klingnau, Switzerland founded by perfume lover René Schifferle, presents Let me Play the Lion (introduced in 2006).

The playful name is inspired by a phrase appearing in Shakespeare's A Midsummer Night's Dream: "Let me play the lion too: I will roar, that I will do any man's heart good to hear me; I will roar, that I will make the duke say 'Let him roar again, let him roar again" (Act I, Scene 2). And playful indeed is the treatment that Isabelle Doyen, famous for her delicate, graceful watercolours for Annick Goutal, is saving for the composition in question.

Let me play the Lion starts on a spicy, peppery orange warmth, a subdued pomander note pettering out to scents of pure frankincense smoke curling lazily upwards towards a serene sky and of seared woods. If you are familiar with Poivre Piquant or Poivre Samarkande, the spiciness is on the same wavelength. Cedar is prominent among the woods, a touch which should appeal to lovers of Gucci Pour Homme, while the incense is its own recommendation for those belonging to the incense-loving sect. However by no means is this a gothic, dark incense; the note reminds me more of the French curiosity Papier d'Armenie ~little aroma-infused booklets redolent of benzoin which are burnt to make their scent waft~ than the mould-infested crypt. It's sunny and fuzzy. There is also a mossy, dry, almost dusty feeling upon finish, while the overall tone is warm and with an ever so delicate touch of sweetness that makes the composition fit for both sexes. Let me Play the Lion lasted exceedingly well on both my skin and on the blotter with the volume turned down: this lion's roar is vibrating on the lower frequencies!

Let me Play the Lion is available as a 50ml/1.7oz Eau de Toilette, directly from the Les Nez website, through Aus Liebe zum Duft or Luckyscent.

Related reading on Perfume Shrine: Les Nez fragrances, Incense series.

In the interests of disclosure I got sent a carded sample of each fragrance from Les Nez as part of their sample giveaway upon launching Manoumalia.

Art photography Nick Brandt Lion before Storm, via young gallery photo.
Cat photograph © by Helg

Cimabue by Dawn Spencer Hurwitz (Parfums des Beaux Arts): fragrance review

From the effulgent Byzantine mosaics of Ravenna as seen in the warm light of noon to the incadescent Scrovegni Chapel frescoes by Giotto in Padua during the cool silence of a winter afternoon, Italian art is infused with the resplendent light of the South which never fails to draw a beatific expression out of me. That golden light has been captured in a fragrance called Cimabue by independent niche perfumer Dawn Spencer Hurwitz. Cenni di Pepo (Giovanni) Cimabue (c. 1240 — c. 1302) was the artist to bridge the opulence of Byzantium with the insight, knowledge and brilliance of the Renaissance and counted Giotto among his students. Cimabue, the fragrance, is characterised by Dawn as "my Saffron note étude" but it provides a porthole into her greater agilité in various techniques. It's no coincidence that Dawn began her career as a painter progressing to work at Boston's famed ESSENSE Perfumery and imbuing her perfumes with fine art principles (texture, color, line, light, shape, and expression) in her own line, Parfums des Beaux Arts, LLC.

Cimabue (pronounced chim-a-boo-way, according to Dawn) had first come to my attention through a perfume enthusiast and online friend who sent me a sample some time ago. I recall I was favourably impressed and left it at that. But now that the Saffron Series has caught up with me, what better time to revisit and explore the intricasies that weave throughout its composition?
Cimabue materialized out of love: the love of a perfumer to her clients. When a lover of Safran Troublant sent a request to Dawn to make something comparable, Dawn set out to create Cimabue. Yet Cimabue is not a rip off Safran Troublant, but rather a spicier, richer, enigmatic interpretation that spans the spectrum from honeyed floral to bittersweet spicy to luscious oriental much like the colours of those frescoes take on different shades depending on the light cast.

Cimabue begins on complex citrus , immediately flanked by unctuous saffron with the feel of aromatized olive oil for a creamy, starchy Carnaroli risotto. Although there are flowers' essences in the composition, none emerges prominently, instead undulating into layers that are folded in the spice mix. The smell of clove, cardamom and nutmeg slither when Cimabue takes on the skin, then the sandalwood, vanilla and sweet powder combine in a classic milky gourmand drydown that accounts for a very warm and pleasantly sweet ambience with average lasting power.
Cimabue should please spice lovers as well as gourmand lovers and will bring a little warmth in the depths of winter.

Dawn Spencer Hurwitz Cimabue notes:
Top: Bergamot, bitter orange, cardamom, clementine, Italian neroli, lemon, nutmeg
Middle: carnation absolute, cinnamon bark, clove bud, Egyptian Rose geranium, Grandiflorum jasmine, honey beeswax, Moroccan rose absolute, Mysore sandalwood, Saffron absolute, Tuberose absolute
Bottom: Ciste absolute, East Indian sandalwood, labdanum, oppopanax, Siam benzoin, Tahitian vanilla, Tamil Nadu sandalwood, vanilla absolute.

Cimabue is part of the more upscale collection Parfums des Beaux Arts (limited editions) and is available in various sizes: 0 .25 oz Eau de Parfum travel spray will set you back $27 while a limited edition flacon of extrait de parfum runs for $135 while a body butter and a foaming creame compliment the experience. Samples and sampler packs are also available on the DSH website.

Related reading on Perfume Shrine: the Saffron Series

Painting of Madonna enthroned with the child, St Francis, St.Domenico and two Angels by Cimabue displayed in Galleria Uffici Florence courtesy of Christus Rex

The Golden Sunshine of Saffron 4: Saffron Fragrances (reviews)

Of all the spice notes, saffron with its bittersweet flavor is the one most opulently and oneirically represented in compositions that are highlighting its antithetical facets: sweet and leathery, acrid and rich. The impact is based on its inherent strong contrasts and juxtapositions, yet the aroma itself possesses a polished delicacy that distinguishs it amidst the concucopia of other gourmand or spicy scents. Here are some of the fragrances best highlighting saffron and its golden glory.

Safran Troublant by L'Artisan Parfumeur
In India it is customary to aromatize rice pudding with saffron stamens soaked in the milk used to make it. This composition by Olivia Giacobetti goes for the warm, pleasantly sweet facet of saffron imbued with the softness of vanilla and milky sandalwood. The simple and cozy aromatic mélange is brought to the boil by the addition of a slightly cumin-like note (although none is listed), raisin and rosewater. The Indian feast is closing with a decadent, sensuous dessert (with ambery undertones, slightly powdery accents) that doesn't stick around for long yet makes you appreciate the fact that here is where Kama (the art of love) was born.


Agent Provocateur by Agent ProvocateurWhen this fragrance first launched in 2000 in its ostrich-egg-sized pink bottle, little did one expect that the scent within would be atavitistic to the lineage of impressionable floral chypres of yore. The big Moroccan rose in its heart, much like in classic Jean Couturier's Coriandre from the 1970s, is complimented by a paper-y woody note of amber and vetiver combined with warm musks, but it is the saffron along with the upbeat coriander that bring a rather animalic and weirdly "dirty" quality to the fragrance making it the olfactory equivalent of an aged Hollywood star the morning after she has had a rampant night in bed with a nostalgizing fan half her years.

Al Nabha by Haramain
If Thaif rose mixed with Dehnal Oudh is your dream come true, then you will be well catered for with this exotic, musty mix of both these ancient aromas of the East recommended for men. Dehnal Oudh supposedly aids motivation and meditation as it brings communication with the transcendent and invokes a sense of strength and peace; but I find that it is the saffron accent that touches the earth with its juxtaposition of earthy delights to the spiritual ones of oudh. I feel that it is the perfect companion to studious winter solitude.
(if you want to find a dehnal oudh distributor in the West, try this link)

Black Tie by Washington Tremlett
The bold saffron note is brought into culmination through the combination with other spices and herbs (cardamom, sage and galbanum). The rose-geranium heart is effortlesly elegant, backed up by a woody vetiver-rich undercurrent that likens it to the husky-voiced Czech & Speake's No.88; yet the former's aura is quiter, more refined and the spice accents make it intriguing enough to render it unique in the current masculine selection; and very fitting to be worn by women as well!

Cuir de Lancome (re-issue)
The at once dense and soft aroma of quality suede is complimented admirably by the inherently leathery aspects of saffron, yet the whole is immersed in the translucence that precious labradorite possesses thanks to hesperidic touches of sweet mandarin and elegantly acrid bergamot. Perfumers Calice Becker and Pauline Zanoni have managed to make a reformulation that defies the disdain usually reserved for the former in that it succeeds to smell enticing and worthy of acquisition even if you are a fan of the vintage version.

Evening Edged in Gold by Ineke
Independent perfumer Ineke Ruhland has been creating a line of fragrances that follow the alphabet, as we mentioned while starting the ABCs with After my Own Heart. Evening Edged in Gold is the fifth in the series and although it has been praised for its rendering of exotic sweet and narcotic blossoms ~like Angel's Trumpet and suede-apricoty osmanthus~ via a stop at a perverse candy-story out of Alice in Wonderland, it is perhaps the bittersweet tang of saffron that holds it from becoming intoxicating to the point of no return, reminding me of the Maldon sea salt chocolate from the Paul A. Young chocolaterie in London.

Idole de Lubin
A pirate idea of boozy rum in a walnut-shell deep within a big leather sac, like a hidden treasure in the depths of some uncharted sea. Olivia Giacobetti had a streak of uncharacteristic epiphany: density in the playground of Safran Troublant, her other saffron scent. More masculine, less vanillic and cozy, Idole has sparkling facets of sweet spirits along with the lusciously dark, dry leathery and animalic background. If I truly loved amber fragrances some more, this could have been my companion on the snowy mountaintops of Kaimaktsalan while sipping saffron-infused black tea.

Opôné by Diptyque
Although I have never personally managed to wear this successfully and my decant has been relegated to the swap list, I find that the saffron and rose accord is potently showcased here for those who do not have access to the spice itself for educational purposes. Pot-pouri like, with rich damascones and damascenones ingredients, and rather dusty, Opôné was named after an ancient trade center in Somalia on the east coast of Africa, but this is a travel I would personally rather take on another medium.

Comme des Garçons 2 Man by Comme des Garçons
Composed by Marc Buxton in 2004 for Rei Kawakubo's brand of avant-garde tailoring, the fragrance has such radiance and clarity that the warm, smoky ambience never becomes the low-life den it could have been and even the incense does not veer it into the mystical; instead it remains suave and polished. The cumin, wood and vetiver elements compliment saffron in a masculine clarion to battle for the urbanized battlefield rather than muddy Bannockburn and I personally find that the modern warrior who would wear this one would definitely manage to steal a gaze of contemplation and interest from me.

Ta'if by Ormonde Jayne
Dates and pink pepper combine with golden saffron to evoke a stop on the way on the Silk Route with the slight green tinge of dampness of fallen leaves in a desert oasis. The unusual note of broom reminds me of the comparable treatment in Dior's forgotten marine-oriental Dune. More spicy than fruity, but with a clearly detectable honey rose heart that blooms lusciously in the warm air of a summery evening, Ta'if is one of the Ormonde Jayne fragrances that although I don't often wear I admire a lot and prefer to the rather lesser Orris Noir which also includes saffron.

Related reading on Perfume Shrine: the Saffron Series

Photograph Afrique du Sud (1981 World Cultures) by Chris Perkins. Agent Provocateur advertisement via Parfum de Pub.

Le Labo Poivre 23 (London Exclusive): fragrance review

The 16th century dock workers required by law to wear a no-pockets-and-no-cuffs uniform are but a small testament to the power of pepper: they often risked their lives trying to sneak peppercorns by stuffing their clothing! As pepper was worth its weight in gold ~by representing a steadier currency (coins were often counterfeited with other alloys) and one of the ways to keep foodstuff for long in a time before refrigerators~ the necessity of perilous, long voyages to exotic lands of the East had seamen reach India to break through the Venice and Genoa monopoly of the Spice Route during the Middle Ages and rulers intent on keeping the spice road clear for caravans to safely bring pepper westwards.
Hippocrates recommended pepper in medicine while the Romans used it so much that the road of spice trading was called Via Piperatica (Pepper Street). It’s no coincidence that both Attila the Hun and Alaric I the Visigoth demanded part of Rome’s ransom in pepper (recalling the comparable custom of paying Roman legionnaires part of their wages in salt). In a time when bribes of prospective voters were circulating in the form of the spice, dowries included pepper, and suitors who tried to marry upwards were literally forced by aristocrats to gurgle on pepper; there were men who were the salt of the earth but who were not worth their pepper, alas! The latest Le Labo, Poivre 23, is redolent of the demonic yet much desired aura of pepper, the King of Spices: after all Bourbon pepper is named after the Bourbon dynasty of French kings (Which makes one wonder why this is the London and not the Paris exclusive!)

Le Labo being loyal to the self-pronounced name on the bottle? If you’re still questioning your nose while smelling the tarry, smoky facets of birch tar rendering oily, leather-like notes in Patchouli 24 (and less so in Ciste 18), you know what I am talking about. And yet, contrary to the criticism received, the name is only meant to apply to the top note (the initial impression, might we say more accurately) and the number of ingredients.

My own criticism of the brand lies elsewhere and I have resisted voicing it for long. Since they believe“Writing about perfume is like dancing about architecture” there isn’t much of a chance they’re checking online publications anyway, so I might as well get it off my chest.
Fabrice and Eddie, the owners of the “perfumery lab” at 233 Elizabeth Street in New York are two fragrance industry veterans who aimed to apply their noses in an unconventional project. The concept of lab-robbed technicians pouring the juice that very minute into your own name-tagged bottle, bearing the date of mixing and an “expiry” date in typewriter font (clinic chic!) is repelling to me in anastrophe, making me view the contents as pasteurized milk rather than a great vintage of dry red wine. Le Labo says a propos: “The last-minute formulation allows the composition to stay “fresh” and retain the fullness of its fragrance, in particular its delicate top notes, and to preserve the intensity required to shock. Made-to-order means that the essential oil concentrates in the perfume remain separate from the alcohol right up to the moment of purchase. Only then do our lab technicians proceed to the final formulation of the perfume, then bottle and label it with your name and the date of fabrication”. Actually the maturation of the jus is an integral part of the creation process and not necessarily the first step into decay. The personalized touch was originally meant to denote a custom-made feel but I sense that it is more of a marketing drivel for the “aware” customer. The reluctance of handing out physical samples because "All natural fragrances are not meant to be sampled; if you try them from a sample they aren't as good» (the frag “was better in the original bottle”)left me doubting my ears.
Secondly, and adjacent to the erroneous “all natural” lapse above, their claim of ingredients coming from Grasse is somehow making perfumephiles think they are of some superior quality to others. People who have been in Grasse can attest that ingredients manipulated there are sourced all over the place, so it is not like this element alone provides credentials of excellence. I am willing to accept that it is all a matter of confusion and misquoting nevertheless (in which case, dear Le Labo, please mail me for discussion) These points aside Poivre 23 is good. Let me elaborate.

Poivre 23 London follows City Scents previously created by Le Labo for New York (Tubereuse 40), Los Angeles (Musc 25), Dallas (Aldehyde 44) , Paris (Vanille 44) and Tokyo (Gaiac 10) in what is no doubt an exasperating, old but brilliant move towards providing a coveted luxury item: that which cannot be had easily! Poivre (pepper) refers to the Piper genus in the Piperacae family and not the Capsicum one of the Solanaceae family (which includes green, red, chili and generally an assortment of edible peppers).

The nose behind Le Labo Poivre 23 is Nathalie Lorson, a perfumer currently at Firmenich, Paris (formely at IFF), who was raised in Grasse, the traditional perfume capital of France. She is responsible for a diverse portfolio that encompasses the almost universally pleasing Bulgari pour Femme, the modern classic aldehydic floriental Dolce & Gabbana Femme, the recent re-issues of Lancôme Peut- Être and Aqua di Parma Profumo, as well as several Adidas fragrances and the one for Kate Moss. She has also signed the three latest fragrances by Lalique: the pre-empting Perles with its peppery musky background, the disturbingly appealing earthy vetiver of Encre Noire and the blackberry muskiness of Amethyst. As she confided: “I try first and foremost to serve the project, which can lead me to explore unfamiliar territory… and to rein in my ego!” Yet the familiar suppleness of her compositions is definitely there.

Nathalie’s spicy-woody personal totem is Déclaration for Cartier, so it’s no wonder she harnessed the untamed demon into supplication so suavely. I am a self-admitted spice lover and pepper is one of my favourite notes, heavily used in perfumery to elevate compositions into something simultaneously hot and cold (Opium by Yves Saint Laurent), or to bestow its brilliance, such as in Piper Negrum by Lorenzo Villoresi. Poivre 23 goes for an orientalized take on the prized material fusing subtle citrus elements with exotic woody notes such as a whiff of patchouli, some gaiac and Australian sandalwood (different than the Indian variety). The whole is suffused into a warm, radiating, rather sweet (I am tempted to say liqueur-tinged) aura with inviting tobacco undertones; smoke rising in slow rings over the canopy of an opium den.
The pepper note vanishes soon; essentially true to its “short” nature (“short” spices give an intial jolting impression but do not last, as opposed to “long” ones which are retained into the aftertaste). In that regard Poivre Piquant by L’artisan is more of a true pepper, with the longevity issues of what that entails as well. What are left from Poivre 23 are sweet nothings spoken in a contralto sostenuto for hours. That would have amber and darkish vanilla lovers, as well as fans of the perversely un-foodie vanilla of Shalimar, enraptured. Compared to their Paris exclusive Vanille 44, Poivre 23 is spicier, a tad less ambery and woodier with echoes of the less complex Gaiac 10 (the Tokyo Exclusive); something that leads me to believe it would be a good hit with men perfume lovers compared to that one, without alienating women fans.

I don’t especially condone the practice of super-exclusive perfumes for the heck of it through my retail shopping, nor do I think that the price asked for such a huge amount of extrait de parfum (the only concentration available) is completely justified. Therefore I left empty-handed. However I asked if there is the option available to some of their other scents in other cities of creating a silicone-based roll-on product fit for the purse. The kind sales assistant informed me that she would ask and a relative is instructed to go back and pick it up if it materializes. I will keep you posted if so!

Notes for Le Labo Poivre 23 (London exclusive):
Bourbon pepper, citrus, incense, cistus labdanum, Australian sandalwood, patchouli, vanilla, gaiacwood, styrax.

Le Labo Poivre 23 is exclusive to Liberty, London, available in Extrait de Parfum (pure parfum) in sizes of 50ml, 100ml and 500ml. (£120 for 50ml, 240.00 for 100ml; I didn’t dare find out the price for 500ml of pure parfum).
The official site (http://www.lelabofragrances.com/) is seriously appealing from an artistic point of view.

Pic of peppercorns via greekfood.about.com. Asian woman smoking originally uploaded on MUA

The Golden Sunshine of Saffron 3: from India to Paris and in your Plate

~reproduced* from "Le Monde d'Hermès: Spring-Summer 2008", compiled by guest writer AlbertCan

A Thread of Myth
The saffron road, with its trail of red gold, runs from India all the way to Faubourg Saint-Honoré. When Alexander the Great reached Kashmir, he pitched his camp on a grassy plain. In the morning, he beheld his army afloat upon an ocean of mauve flowers that had opened overnight and reached all the way to his tent and under the hooves of his horses. Suspecting some sorcery, he turned back, avoiding battle. So says the legend. In fact, the Supreme Commander of the Superstitious had simply spend the night in a field of crosues, in a crop of wild saffron that may well have been used to make Mongra and Lacha, the finest qualities of this spice anywhere in the world. Just a pinch--no more, for saffron is potent and costly--infuses a flavour of far horizons: Persia, the Atlas, Crete, the monks of Tibet, fabrics snapping in the wind of Calcutta and feasts fit for a king. Added to rice, immersed in stocks and sauces or soaked in milk, it has a complex taste--bitter, metallic, salty, with notes of hay and bark--and a fine yellow colour. "When choosing saffron, one should select broad, red, new-grown threads that are supple and fleshy to the touch, and yet dry, with a very aromatic odour." So wrote the expert for Diderot and d'Alemberts' Encyclopédie [1] and it was sage advice. For the world of saffron is full of powdered impostors, while genuine growths such as Zafferano dell'Aquila and Pennsylvania Dutch Saffron are rare. Its purple strands are the dried stigmas of the Crocus sativus, a member of the Iris family (Iridaceae) which flowers fashionably late, in October. It must be harvested by hand at dawn-and mibly too, so as not to damage the pistil. Shy and delicate it may be, but this confounded crocus has nevertheless made a place for itself in myth. The tale related the joint metamorphosis of two lovers--a handsome Arcadian youth, Krokos, or Crocus, and a nymph, Smilax--who were "changed into tiny flowers" [2]. A more tragic version tells of the accidental death of the said Crocus, when a discus thrown by a fond friend hit him on the head. Three drops of blood fell from the wound and fertilised the earth, brining forth a mauve flower with three red stigmas. The fond friend was Hermès.

--Text by Yves Nespoulous, Le Monde d'Hermès: Spring-Summer 2008, p.116.

[1]. Diderot and d'Alembert's Encyclopédie (1751-1772).
[2]. Ovid, Metamorphoses, book IV.

Saffron Ice Cream Recipe

For 1 litre of ice cream:

8 egg yolks
100 g of granulated sugar
750 ml of fresh full cream milk (or semi-skimmed for a lighter ice cream)
250 ml of creme fraiche
a few pistils of very good saffron

You will need a kitchen themometer marked in centigrade and an ice cream maker.

1.Bring the milk to the boil in a pan, then remove from the heat and allow the saffron to infuse for half an hour.
2.In the meantime, whisk together the egg yolks and sugar until the mixture turns white. Slowly pour in the warm milk, stirring all the while with a wooden spoon.
3.Wash the pan then pour in the mixture and heat it, stirring all the time, until the temperature reachers 87 degrees Celsius, then remove from the flame.
4.Add the cream, stir and pour the mixture through a fine strainer into a salad bowl. Leave to cool and then refrigerate overnight so that the flavours can blend properly.
5.The next day, freeze the mixture in the ice cream maker to give it a smooth, creamy texture. 6.Serve with a fruit salad and orange tuille biscuits (an important cooking rule: to keep the palate interested, it is always a good idea to combine crisp, soft and creamy ingredients).

*The "saddler's touch": using the same thin custard base (creme anglaise), you can make all kinds of unusual ice creams to serve with the first fruits of summer or the last ones of winter: saffron ice cream with orange salad, funnel ice cream with roasted figs, verbena ice cream with raspberries, etc. All you need to do is infuse the herb or spice or your choice in hot milk, and give your imagination free rein.

--Recipe by Élisabeth Larquetoux-Thiry, Le Monde d'Hermès: Spring-Summer 2008, p.116. Pic via DKI images.

For more saffron recipes: Mutton Buryani, Bouillabaise, Paella Valenciana, Mussels in a saffron white wine sauce
Visit the Glass Petal Smoke blog for another take on saffron.

Related reading on Perfume Shrine: the Saffron Series

*Article reproduced with every reservation on matters of copyright infringement (none intended), while every possible credit is being given. Should you feel it should not be online, nevertheless, please email us for removal.

The Golden Red Sunshine of Saffron 2: Chemistry and Production

The sophisticated, bitter, almost iodine taste of saffron is a constant source of fascination to me. Crocus sativus, a member of the iris family and a similar-looking flower to the latter, contains the deep red style (the female sexual organ and the central part of the blossom) and the yellow stamina (the male sexual organ which doesn't possess a taste of its own). How can this complex, somewhat hay-like odour be possible through such an unlikely material? The answer lies in the chemicals picrocrocin and safranal.
The bitter glucoside picrocrocin (deriving from the Greek word πικρός/picros and approximately 4% in dried saffron) is responsible for saffron's flavour and is a precursor of safranal. Essentially it's the marriage of the terpene aldehyde safranal (systematic name: 2,6,6-trimethylcyclohexa-1,3-diene-1- carboxaldehyde) and a carbohydrate which accounts for its formation. Saffron contains several carotenoids in fact: α- and β-carotene, lycopin and zeaxanthin. Safranal is a volatile oil, less bitter than picrocrocin and often comprises up to 70% of dry saffron's volatile fraction. It's hereby interesting to note that the related safraleine has been used by perfumers to render the hint of a leather note in some fragrances, accounting for a note of mixed shoe polish/black cherry/air conditioning refrigerating fluid (as referenced in our Production of Leather Notes article in our Leather Series).
But the most intense chemical in saffron's odour profile is 2-hydroxy-4,4,6-trimethyl-2,5-cyclohexadien-1-one, which although is less quantitatively represented, contributes more intensely than saffranol in saffron's aroma. Saffron's rich golden-yellow hue on the other hand is due to the carotenoid α-crocin. You can see this in action if you take a couple of stigmata and infuse them in a cup of hot water: you will have a richly yellow-golden liquid in your hands with a very pleasing aroma.

The harvest of the purple-hued flowers of crocus sativus is a long and arduous process that involves picking the stigmata by hand. Seeing the purple carpets of blossoms with my own eyes I couldn't help myself from sighing from the sheer beauty of it: The flowers range from incandescent to dusky as the sun changes angles on the horizon and the wind blows among the petals. Old women with 'babushka'-style foulards to protect themselves from the rays pick them slowly one by one, filling basket after basket. Dried, the stigmata are gently heated and along with enzymatic action, picrocrocin yields D-glucose and the above mentioned safranal. The aromatic potential is just one glimpse away.

The history of saffron is no doubt fascinating and to this day saffron remains an expensive commodity, cultivated from the Western Mediterranean (Spain) to India (Kashmir). More than 80% of the global production (approximately reduced from 300 to 140 tons a year although according to same sources exportation is on the rise) is accountable to Spain (La Mancha region) and Iran. Saffron is not antithetical to cooler climates nevertheless. As we had referenced in the previous installment of the Saffron Series, the English town of Saffron Walden in Essex got its very name from local production in the 16th century ~yet the former saffron cultivation sites were eventually abandoned and the only remaining saffron producer north of the Mediterranean today is the 1200m-high Mund, a small Swiss village in the Wallis canton, which produces a few kilograms per year.
Outside Europe, Iran is most productive, especially lately, finally overcoming the Spanish yield. Smaller amounts are harvested in Turkey and India with Kashmiri saffron possessing a very high reputation, yet hardly available outside India.
In Greece, saffron is a product of Protected Designation Of Origin and of Protected Geographical Indication. The Greek Red Saffron is classified as the highest quality saffron worldwide, as it lacks the bitter edge of the Iranian variety. The Co-Operative of the Kozani region in Northern Greece is selling their own organic version, hand-picked in whole stigmata, while the well-known Greek brand Korres (who joined the above co-operative with a 42.8% share) is also issuing their own packaging of organic saffron stigmata for the Greek and European market. Indeed the increasing scope of saffron as exploited by Korres can be seen in their newest Eau de Toilette for men, tagged Saffrom Amber/Agarwood/Cardamom. The illustruous heritage of saffron has reverted to its place of origin through the medium of today's technology!

Related reading on Perfume Shrine: the Saffron Series

Pic of crocus sativus via irana.ir, pic of crocus harvesting via Kozani Co-operative.

Christmas '08 Gifts Ideas part 2

We're just one week away from Christmas (how time flies!), so this is your last-minute guide to shop for gifts at the nick of time for those loved ones we want to see have a smile on their faces as they unwrap their packages or look into their stockings on the fireplace or even ourselves. (USPS guarantees that orders submitted today will make it on Christmas' Eve).
Since we have already posted ideas on perfumed gifts as well as a guide to help you through wading the shelves in stores in search of a fragrance gift. I thought today I might include some alterative ideas that do not focus on specific fragrances but do relate to olfaction and the pleasures of the nose.

Perfume books should be high on any perfumista's wishlist, so here are my two best recs: The Essence of Perfume by fragrance connoisseur Roja Dove; a coffee-table-sized book with lots of basic and not so basic info and luscious photographs to make you swoon. And Avery Gilbert's What the Nose Knows: The Science of Scent in Everyday Life; A scientific and fun exploration on how our sense of smell works, how we're being fooled and the unknown facts around olfaction you wished you knew when you started this hobby! You can read my review of Roja Dove's book and Avery Gilbert's book clicking the links.

Pampering for the body never hurt anyone and the holiday season presents its own stresses anyway. So this is the perfect time for a little mssage oil applied with long strokes (preferably by someone special): Weleda is an excellent German brand of high quality skincare products that are distributed through pharmacies. Their Wild Rose Body Oil is especially fragrant and luxurious, using the aromatheurapeutical properties of wild rose, the scent is fit for both sexes and the price is right. The ritual of powdering is a forgotten practice, but it's worth resurecting to embrace your inner Hollywood diva during the holiday season. It's also more economical than splurging for a new bottle of fragrance. Ladies, this classic Maja dusting powder by Spanish brand Mururgia is calling your name, while Coty Wild Musk powder is such a wonderful, inviting smell I wonder why it sits at the lower end of the market! Gentlemen will feel like their feet are featherlight by putting a little powder in Taylor of Old Bond Street Sandalwood before slipping on their socks.

What about a little flavourful something to help make something wonderful in the kitchen these holiday season or to offer when invited to a guest house? This Taste of Italy gift basket by Wine Country Gift Baskets won't break the bank and looks luscious: "Bring the tastes of Italy to any home or office with this hearty basket; contains everything needed for a great Italian meal. Start off with extra virgin gourmet olive oil, bread dipping herbs, roasted garlic bread mix, mozzarella crackers, mixed green and black olives, twice-baked roasted garlic crackers, cheese knife set and a bread dipping bowl. Rigatoni pasta and garlic pasta seasoning make up the main course while Lanzetti fruit candy and vanilla biscotti complete this authentic basket". I can't help thinking that the comparable Breakfast in Bed basket is especially indulgent for this holiday season when my weary self will need a little pampering...
If the History of Saffron article has raised your curiosity on this golden spice, might I suggest you get some for your cooking! Princesa de Minaya Saffron (Azafran) by LaTienda is whole stigmata of pure saffron to add to your rice pilaf or fish or to infuse as an aromatic beverage by itself or mixed with tea. Touch of India Saffron Spices mixes paprika, turmeric, coriander, red pepper, black pepper, cardamom, and saffron for dishes that promise to being an exotic flavour to your table this Christmas. There is a price level for every budget.
If cost is generally your concern (and whose isn't these days), yet you want the elusive luxury that truffles, those odorous mushrooms bring to your dishes, yet can't fork out the cash for it, do try a little truffle-aromatized oil instead: This Italian Extra Virgin Olive Oil is infused with white truffle to be used as a finishing touch on delicate dishes that demand an earthy touch and is just 12$! Take it as a gift to a host who loves to cook and you will have their heart (and invitations to subsequent dinners) for ever after.
And because culinary escapades on Perfume Shrine couldn't finish without quality chocolate and a touch of Greece, please take a look at this glorious Greek-founded chocolaterie, Leonidas, who produces Belgian-style chocolates in various flavours and shapes, filled with whatever your fancy desires. 1lb will set you back 34$ and several thousand calories behind your scheduled ratio, but it's sooooo worth it!

Have fun choosing your gifts!

Pics via Amazon.