May 1st: A Lily of the Valley Tradition

The charming custom of offering lily of the valley on May 1st in France dates further back than one might think: it was Charles IX who first offered these tiny bell-shaped and deliciously fragrant flowers to his mother, Catherine de Medici, as a good luck charm. The custom stuck ever since.
Happy May 1st!

For those of you so inclined, you can read about Lily of the Valley (or Muguet in French) in detail, its history, role in perfumery as a raw material, ways to render a synthetic LOTV note as well as a list of fragrances celebrating this green floral note consulting my older article: Lily of the Valley as Perfumery Material and Fragrances with this Note on this link.

 photo via hannasform.blogspot.com

Aftelier Sepia: fragrance review

There is an eerie feeling upon coming across a ghost town, the very cinematic experience of bypassing a highway into a smaller, abandonded scenic route into the vast countryside; all silence in the distance and blue skies passing you by above. In America ghost towns are something of a fixture in the collective unconscious, a remnant of the wild west past, the advent of industrialism and the building of autoroutes erasing bustling cities from the map.
The desolate beauty of the ruins, standing abandonded as if replete with tales of lives spent heard in whispers on the wind that blows amongst the delapidated buildings, inspired indie perfume Mandy Aftel (Aftelier perfumes) into creating an all-naturals perfume that would put decay into an elegant context, into a wearable form translating the ravages of time.

via lonewolfphotos.com

Sepia by Aftelier, the resulting perfume, utilizes the most refined and dignified of materials of sweet decay: oud wood mulling over floating ambergris; blanched, matured, patina-bearing, ghost-like...
The musty feel of both oud and cepes (the latter being the raw and damp smelling, peculiar essence of mushrooms, exalted in Mandy's Cepes and Tuberose) come out in the composition as seen through a sieve; their chunkier elements surfacing, while the rest is retreating into the distance like the vision of a ghost town while traversing through those abandonded roads of the west. Even though intense -typically gourmand, but not here!- notes such as cocoa, coffee and the multi-nuanced white tobacco are also featured in the formula, the weaving is tight, none of them peaking above the others. You'd be hard-pressed to distinguish one from the other. This dry woods perfume doesn't make any compromise.

Instead the floralcy of yellow mandarin along austere cedarwood and the musty notes open Sepia, predesposing someone for something strong which soon belies that impression: the fragrance becomes earthier, darker and more mysterious while continuously subtle. Aftel used other intriguing essences, such as pink lotus for a lighter feel, a hint of wine facet from berry notes, full bodied indolic jasmine and labdanum, usually the recipe for an animalic floral.

Sepia however defies such predictable seduction tricks. It is above all a play on atmosphere, an inwards  journey into what is left in our soul upon encountering a mirage, an illusion, a decaying thing of beauty. Is it there or is it not? And as such it is best savoured intellectually and with all our senses on the alert.

Notes for Aftelier Sepia:

Top: blood cedarwood, yellow mandarin, pink grapefruit

Middle: pink lotus, strawberry, jasmine grandiflorum, cocoa, coffee

Base: flowering tobacco, oud, indole, ambergris, cepes, labdanum


Sepia is available in liquid parfum (1.4oz), EDP spray and sample spray atomizer, mini bottle and liquid sample vial directly through the Aftelier site. 

A Pleasant Surprise

Ever have done something which was still in a liquid state, so to speak, walked away from it and then forgot all about it? This happened to me yesterday.

The FiFi Awaards Finalists Breakfast was held on April 27th at the Mandarin Oriental in NYC and long-distance I suddenly learn I made it to the 2012 Finalists for Editorial Excellence on my article published last December! My editor at The Perfume Magazine, Raphaella Barkley thus garnered two noms, the other being by her contributor Neil Stenberg. Congrats go to Victoria from Bois de Jasmin for her winning article. All the finalists of the editorial categories and perfume categories can be found on the Fifi Awards blog with links.

If you're interested to read my article on "On Making Sense out of Scents" (concerning the structure of perfume and why notes don't always correspond to what you smell), please refer to this link.

To friends who asked me in email why articles on here weren't in the run (never have been, actually), this is because although invited to, the blog isn't based in the US (even if it appears to sometimes thanks to readability across the pond), which is a basic requirement for entering. I have to thank Raphaella for both times picking my articles on her webzines, trusting in me and submitting them herself to such happy results. All accolades to her!

Win Aftelier perfumes: Giveaway of Sepia and Secret Garden

Here at the Shrine I have long tried to provide readers with the chance to try out expensive or rare samples on the cheap (actually for free! I pay for shipping, you don't pay for anything), knowing just how difficult it is to come across a precious vintage or how costly it is to obtain a precious, all naturals perfume. Sharing this passion for trying new things is perhaps the best satisfaction of them all. In that regard, I hope that several people have derived pleasure from the draws & giveaways hosted here and today is just another chance for one!

Up for grabs for one lucky winner are two small but substantial atomisers of Aftelier's latest Sepia perfume (review coming up shortly!) and Aftelier Secret Garden perfume. These all naturals perfumes are highly regarded and the sampling provides a chance of trying out before investing.
Enter a comment to be eligible for the draw. Draw is open internationally and expires on May 1st midnight.
And I'm leaving you with some soothing Renaissance music to savour on a Saturday morning.

My Troubles with Rose (and Overcoming Them One Step at a Time)

I admit it: It took hard work on my part to appreciate rose for what it is and to familiarize myself with the better grades of rose absolutes and fragrances that highlight this noble material. But let's take things at the top: Why did I have any trouble with rose in the first place? Bad associations is one thing: toilet freshners and dusty pot-pouri left standing for ages have not done much to make rose an appreciated note. But it went deeper than that. 

 
I had always pictured rose lovers as romantic creatures (but a specific type of it that differs from what I embrace) who love interiors dressed in ice-cream pastels, dresses with lots of chiffon and lace in pretty, feminine shades of pinks and salmons, hair up in disheveled buns, leafing through retrospectives of the New York City Ballet. They adore being offered flowers on a first date, get treated to a dinner at a posh restaurant and can watch a rom-com anytime. Their china is patterned with tiny flowers edged in gold, their jewlery is dainty, pretty and vintage girly. They cherish Jane Austin and find the money-related matrimonial wannabe woes of the heroines utterly charming. Perhaps they have been dreaming and planning their wedding ever since they knew how to talk. It recalled instant Victoriana to my mind, even if Austin's more Empire really if we're to be period-appropriate. (Call it typecasting. Call it prejudice, if you prefer, you're probably right anyway).

I am none of those above things, for better or worse: I always prefered the Bronte sisters' dark and gloom, I dress in dramatic black and white (or red!) with bold accents of jewels when the mood strikes, firmly prefer wood & baroque interiors to "pretty" things and detest frou frou in almost everything. My china bears simple platinum meanders on the edge and nothing else and I didn't have a wedding plan in my head until I actually really, really had to. I equate romanticism with gothic literature, strong passions damaging everything in sight and Chopin préludes, preferably visualising the composer coughing up a bloody storm under that damp roof in the Majorca. Not a pretty picture, eh?

So I considered it natural that roses -and rose fragrances that replicate the scent of the flower- didn't hold much appeal on me. And yet, there was definitely rose in several perfumes which I found irresistible from a young age on: Paris by Yves Saint Laurent for one, with its violet-laced delectability, making the rose powdery, soft and tender as a feather or a sweet young mother's embrace. Or et Noir by Caron is full of it. Chanel No.5 also has lots. I had been presented with rose otto from the Bulgarian valley of the roses when in elementary school (gift from a relative who visited) and was hypnotized by the lushness.
I later read all about damascones and damascenones, ingredients which give fruity nuances of apple and plum to roses and a fluorescent glow. I had smelled roses deeply and compared with the differing essence rendered which resembles liqueur or powder or sometimes wine and marvelled on the facets of artichoke peaking! Somerset Maugham had likened rose's splendor to such a poetic concept: "Beauty is an ecstasy; it is as simple as hunger. There is really nothing to be said about it. It is like the perfume of a rose: you can smell it and that is all." I had to explore more...

Of course Sommerset Maugham was English. Does this bear any relation to my quest? Plenty, as you will see.

I also always pegged rose lovers as decidedly Anglo-Saxon, you see (that Liberty style print had no doubt influenced me profoundly, as well as the expression "English rose" for pretty UK ladies), with the corresponding flaxen, auburn or chestnut hair and peaches n'cream complexion under northern lights. What could this "clean", pretty look have to do with my striking black on fair contrast under the blinding Med sun? I admired Guerlain Nahéma, which was more my speed by all accounts, but somehow it seemed too intrusive for what I considered the last bastion of mystery, perfume... I had never actually met a grown woman in my culture who was crazy for roses anyway, nor did I meet anyone else for that matter outside that group who did.

But English and American (and a few Australian) women I got to know were really bent on roses and this made me think. Long and hard. Why is it that such a difference exists? And why are several young women so averse to roses? It is indeed a prefered scent of grannies, who do have a penchant for Victoriana, one assumes because it reminds them of a glamourised time when they saw their own parents as demi-gods. How come Stella by Stella McCartney is such a popular fragrance in the 20-30 age group nevertheless? (This is the same mystery as young women theoretically not liking "powdery scents" and yet going ga-ga for Kenzo Flower or DK Cashmere Mist!) And why is D&G Rose The One targeted to young ones? Francis Kurkdjian has practically built a career upon selling roses to the young, given them his gleaming sheen trademark. Surely they should be enough interest from a significant sector in the market to guarantee houses as the Parfums de Rosine -with its illustrious historical name and its pleiad of variations on the rose- to flourish.

 Alberto Morillas gave me a partial answer to that question when he presented Valentina de Valentino, explaining why the fragrance didn't contain rose even though Valentino himself uses it as a motif a lot: "Honestly, it's not easy to make roses 'young'," he shrugged. "It's a scent often associated with older ladies and jasmine is far younger. And although you do have roses in Italy, it's not really the essence of the country."

So, two factors then: Geographical location (my juvenile hypothesis had some substance after all) and age grouping. I don't know if it's a sign of maturing on my part, as the passage of time has made my stance towards roses more elastic, or really my persistence on overcoming this hesitation; but it could be both. More than a mere matter of chronological age, it might have to do with the maturing process of realizing what one categorically rejected during their teen "angst" years and the "mapping identity" early 20s, one is more lenient on accepting later on.

Therefore apart from the "bastard" roses which I always found intriguing and beguiling despite myself, such as Voleur de Roses by L'Artisan Parfumeur, Rose d'Homme by Parfums de Rosine, Rose Poivrée by The Different Company,  Une Rose Chypree by Tauer perfumes and Epic for Women by Amouage, I began to find myself attracted to sheerer, more tender, less artsy, well, rosier(!) fragrances. After all rose can take on myriad of nuances: from soft and powdery, to childlike and tender, to green with a hint of the dew on the leaves, to nectarous and honeyed and fruity, passionate and full, all the way to dark, angular and gothic.

I discovered the Annick Goutal rose fragrances Rose Absolue, Rose Splendide and Quel Amour, the whimsical little sister to the violet-rose combo of Paris in the charming Drôle de Rose by L'Artisan Parfumeur, the stupendous Lyric by Amouage, the greener and softer nuances in Rose Barbare by Guerlain. Briar Rose by Ineke. F.Malle animalic and "femme" Une Rose. The lovely and very true to a budding rose smell Rose 4 Reines by L'Occitane. The green & citrusy grapefruit tinge of Rose Ikebana in the Hermessences.
It seems have managed to overcome my fear and trepidation (hurray!), studying and playing with this regal blossom that yields such extraordinary results.
And then I come across such a different, iconoclastic take on rose such as the spicy, intense Cinabre by Maria Candida Gentile and I realize nothing's changed really: you can't get the poésie romanesque out of the girl, even if you add some mainstream, expected romance to it.

 And what about you? Is there a perfume note or material which you have been battling with for some time? I'd love to hear your stories!

pics via sansmith/pinterest , linda edmonson/pinterest,sheisfilledwithsecrets.tumblr.com

The winner of the draw...

....for the Swarovski bottle of perfume is Katrina and the waves. Congratulations and please email me with your shipping data so I can have this out in the mail for you soon!

Thanks everyone for the enthusiastic participation and till the next (very interesting!) one.

S-Perfumes S-Perfume Classic: fragrance review

The blinding white of Oia on Santorini island, Greece, against the pale blue of the natural pools contained within some of its cave-houses is not totally alien to the idea behind S-Perfume Classic by super-niche brand S-Perfumes.The same feeling of freshness and serenity -and perversly enough energy as well- reigns in both.

Source: bluepueblo.tumblr.com via Perfume on Pinterest

The S-Perfume "house" began in 2000, the first all-original perfumery to come out of Brooklyn, New York, though not the first one to be founded by a completely unrelated to perfumery individual. Nobi Shioya is a sculptor with an interest in scent who used various fragrances to scent his “Olfactory Art” installations. Nobi ~under the nom de plume Sacré Nobi~ brought on board perfume veterans such as Carlos Benaim and Sophia Grojsman. As Chandler Burr said: “Shioya shares with the scent-architect Frédéric Malle a Woody Allen-ish knack for convincing stars to work for him.” They began to create a series of scents as an art project with very fancy ad copy and very limited distribution  (Which sorta begs the question how the hell did certain non-professional people get on his wares so very, very early on, but I'll leave this to the more sleuthing among you). Word of mouth made the brand something of a mini-cult, not always deservedly (From the newly relaunched and pared down to three range S-ex is by far the most interesting and 100%Love the most wearable).

S-Perfume Classic was originally composed by Alberto Morillas under the project name Jet-Set 1.0 (all the S-Perfumes had conceptual names back then, taking inspiration from the seven deadly sins originally and later taking abstract names such as 100% Love). Christophe Laudamiel re-orchestrated it somewhat to its current formula, sold now as S-Perfume "classic". The label also changed, this time bearing a sort of sketching protozoon (or spermatozoon, if you prefer).

The ambience of the S-Perfume Classic is that of contemporary non-scents: Like Molecule 01 from Escentric Molecules, this is something that doesn't quite register on the cortex but moves like an abstract clean-musky aura around, coming in and out of focus. The ozonic, oxygen touch coupled with the "clean" factor of lavender, aromatic somewhat masculine-smelling herbs and sanitized musk -consisting of the familiar to all via functional products Galaxolide musk type- soon eschews all images of sensuality (The official notes mention creamy, cozy ingredients such as sandalwood and vanilla substituted by Laudamiel for the benzoin which Morillas had used, which nevertheless should not at any rate lead you to believe that we're dealing with a predominantly sensual affair of a skin-scent; the most you get is a hint, a tiny hint of suntan oil at a distance).
On the contrary, S-Perfume Classic has the salty zingy skin-like smelling effect of L'Eau Ambrée by Prada, airated by the coolness encountered in Serge Lutens's L'Eau Froide (but arrived to through totally different means) and is not a classic warm "beachy" fragrance.

Morillas had utilized the "clean" and "energetic" idea to impressive effect already in CK One (collaborating with Harry Fremont) and Mugler's Cologne, balanced with subtler salty-skin and herbs accents in the discontinued CK Truth (with Jacques Cavallier and Thierry Wasser)and adding a touch of cool spice in Bulgari's BLV. Laudamiel emphasized the somewhat rubbery facets recalling neoprene with a subtle woody-powdery finish that is sometimes perceptible and sometimes is not. But it's the shiny, almost hurting the eyes oxygen blast, as squeeky clean as the eyesore one gets upon opening their windows to a blinding white winter day decked in a yard of snow, or the whiteness of the water inside a surf wave, which stay in one's memory.

Notes for S-Perfume Classic: ozonic note, muguet mist, thyme, lavender, musks, sandalwood, vanilla bourbon

Tryvge Harris: "None of the ouds in any of those commercial perfumes are real. None."

In an interesting interview of Trygve Harris on FragranceScout, the owner of Enfleurage NYC (dedicated to natural essences of the highest grade, including the very rare gardenia essence) who lives in Oman reveals some (not so astounding surely if you have been following our pages here for some time) facts about oud/aoudh and its commercial inclusion in perfumes, mainstream and niche alike. If you don't know the first thing about oud (rather unlikely unless you had been living under a rock for the past 3-4 years) you can consult our Perfume Raw Material: Oud/Aoudh/Agarwood article; it should get you started and correct some misconceptions.

via anyasgarden.blogspot.com

Asked if one can find a good quality oud, Harris answers that there is no chance any more; "high quality Lao (and Vietnamese, Cambodian, & Thai) [oud] is finished." Of course this is where the synthetic bases popularised these past few years which have given rise to the abundance of "oud" perfumes in the market: almost one release in every eight is about oud at this pace. She also explains that even "real aoudh" used is usually just the dried chips, bearing no resin left, treated so they give off some scent, but not the authentic oud smell. "A great deal of oud is just chemical, or reconstituted. Almost all. I would say you have .01% chance of finding a real pure one. And none of the ouds in any of those commercial perfumes are real. None. It would be madness to create something for the mass market, or even a “niche market” using raw materials whose availability, origin and price are so random."
As to whether this trend for oud will stay with us, she's pretty categorical: "There is just no way that so many Westerners are connect with oud."

All in all a very interesting and frank interview to Giovanni.

Swarovski Aura: Bottle Giveaway

I have a brand new bottle of Swarovski's Aura fragrance from which only 5ml have been decanted for reviewing purposes. It is eligible for readers of this site. Just put a comment in saying what would be your ideal interpretation of crystal into perfume form and you're in the draw.

Draw remains open till Thursday 26th April midnight.

Profumum Roma Soavissima: fragrance review

Her presence still lingered.
Her petticoat had left unequivocal traces.
Trails of intense scent that lit boundless fires.

This is how Profumum Roma presents Soavissima. Profumum is a niche Italian brand founded in Rome in 1996 and Soavissima was launched in 2006. The official accords talk about amber, white flowers, animalic and powdery notes, but of this only the powder and ambery stuff comes through distintcly. And that, not quite, as one would be accustomed through various incarnations of resinous, sacerdotal ambers circulating in niche perfumery for years: The powderiness in Soavissima comes through heaps of heliotrope, a soft iris accord and that rosy nuance of goose-down puffs heavy with powder in which a bit of amber is felt, like the whisper that is left on the skin when you apply an ambery perfume several hours before. It's a sweet ambience, perhaps a tad intense for some. It can also veer into "baby powder" territory, that vat of Johnson's talc, aromatized with vanilla, hints of lavender and orange blossoms. Its feminine, motherly embrace is its predominant trait, a quality that can be polarising. More than a slipper-footed dame in her boudoir powdering her face, it recalls gusts of powder going on 18th century wigs; an element of excess and theatricality is built within the scent.

Soavissima firmly belongs to the sweet powdery realm where Teint de Neige by Lorenzo Villoresi and Keiko Mecheri's Loukhoum rule. On the other hand it has some of the inedible sweetness of the aldehydic soapiness that Chanel No.22 and White Linen by Lauder possess. It also approaches Profumum's own Confetto with its similar base of fuzzy heliotrope-ambery powderiness. The sillage/projection of Soavissima is tremendous so go easy on the application and the lasting power quite satisfying for the price.

The Soavissima line is complimented by a body lotion, a shower product and a room fragrance. Sold at boutique sites, such as Luckyscent. (and in brick and mortar in various countries, even in Thessaloniki in Xeen Ltd)

photo of Lord Mortimer/Bedlam v ia sparksinelectricaljelly.blogspot.com and of makeup brush via clothingbrands24.com

Which Chanel Perfume is for You?

"For me this is Chanel," says [Marian] Bendeth. "Austere, analytical, powerful, yet highly feminine and devastatingly sensual. The woman who wears this has exquisite taste."

Marian Bendeth of Sixth Scents is an industry fixture, a renowned specialist and a powerful interviewer; it's been an honour to have her contribute on Perfume Shrine in the past. Marian specializes in creating fragrance wardrobes for her clients based on personality, body chemistry and lifestyle and a propos this task she offered a most insightful little guide on the CanadianLiving site on which personality is expressed through your choice of Chanel Les Exclusifs perfume. Do you go for the classic elegance of Chanel No.22 or the unconventional femininity of Cuir de Russie? The pastoral prettiness of Bel Respiro or the austere yet sensuous ambience of 31 Rue Cambon fragrance?

Read the whole article here. (NB. Some of the newer inclusions, namely Chanel Beige, Sycomore and Jersey are lacking)

Let's expand this: Which is the perfume that best describes your personality?  

Related reading on Perfume Shrine: Chanel Les Exclusifs perfume reviews


pic of Chanel's bathroom via bleauog.blogspot.com

Fragrance Trends: Mandarin, Note du Jour

Apart from the re-edition of L'Artisan Parfumeur Mandarine (previously Mandarine tout Simplement) we had reported a while ago, there are a few more mandarin-inspired fragrances circulating or launching for 2012, enough to note a trend. Not coincidentally, mandarin orange is THE hot colour of the moment in fashion as well, if Pantone's seasonal predictions are anything to go by (Their Tangerine Tango is a hue of orange-y coral that approximates a great ripe mandarin fruit). My favourite mandarin-inspired perfume remains Serge Lutens's Mandarine Mandarin  for its complexity and rich nuances which run the gamut from tangy green to nectarous ripe to almost mouldy.

via vendernaranjas.com

Now here's a short list of new releases featuring the note du jour, mandarin orange:

4711 Acqua  Colonia Mandarine & Cardamome (by Muelhens)
Aftelier Sepia
Chanel Allure Homme Sport Eau Fraiche (two trends in one, the "eau fraiche" has returned with a vengeance)
Coach Signature summer 2012 limited edition
Donna Karan Essence Mandarin
L'Artisan Parfumeur Mandarine

Do you have a favorite mandarin orange themed fragrance to recommend?

another take on the hipness of mandarin can be found on fragrantica