We have a winner!!

Like I had announced on the Perfume Quizz ~before the crash down that cost me so much time in restoring things~ there was to be the recipient of a bottle of italian perfume by a niche brand as a prize.
The winner is Lea, who contacted me by email in the meantime, hitting the right spot by guessing none other than The Body Shop White Musk.
Yup! That was the one! Softly sensual, ever so lightly floral, reformulated at some point, non expensive, widely popular and related to the late Dama Annita Roddick (rest in peace)...
And the prize is musky too. Congratulations Lea!

Thanks for the participationg and stay tuned for more contests on Perfume Shrine. Many things have haunted by cupboards that seek people to love them.

Perfume in public places?

Perfume Shrine receives lots of mail by fans, lots of it with questions to pose.
One of them recently rehashed that perennial subject of what personal fragrance is suitable for public occassions in closed spaces.

Dear Helg,

I have been reading your wonderful blog for a long time and want to congratulate you on your excellent work.
I have taken the initiative to delurk and mail you with a question pertaining to something that happened to me at the movies the other day.
I went to see Zodiac with my boyfriend and as we were sitting there in the dark, munching on our popcron, the smell of something at once earthy and flowery was coming my way. You know how terrible it is when someone who wears a completely wrong scent goes at the movies and stinks up the whole place. Well, this wasn't the case. Quite the opposite!
At first I thought it was a woman and tried to locate the wearer, but soon I realised it was the man sitting on the front row at my far left who was an "arts and crafts type", probably in his 30s, accompanying a similar type of girl. I couldn't discern more in the dark.
The scent was delicious, not in the sense that you wanted to go and nibble on the person wearing it, but in that it embraced his personality. It had some element of dirt to it, although I am terrible at describing these things.
I didn't have the nerve to ask him...but it has haunted me ever since. I tried to find out what it was to no avail.

Do you have any ideas what it might have been?
I'd be ever so grateful...

Best,
Aline

To answer this type of question would leave a lot to the imagination, as the clues I have to go on are not that many. However, I could hazard the guess that we are talking about a vetiver or patchouli infused floral, from the looks of it. Even a little musk could have been involved.
Therefore I would nominate Voleur des Roses by L'artisan Parfumeur, patchouli under a rose effluvium or maybe Rose d'homme by Rosine, a rich, round rose with earth still attached on the stems.
Since he is a young man I might also mention Black XS by Paco Rabanne, although it features a sweet fruity note in there as well. This has a good chance of being the culprit though as it is more commercially available. Diesel Green might also be the one.
Another more obscure probability might be Gregory by Fresh scents by Terry that combines patchouli with ylang ylang and leather. I hope the reader does find the answer after sampling those, although I am sorry I can't be of any more assistance.
If you, dear readers, have any more ideas, please let us know in the comments.


However this issue has a flip-side as well. How utterly disgusting it is to enter a cinema theater and be bombasted by the smelly fumes of someone who has overdosed on something inappropriate...something with a monstruous sillage or something too invasive in its volume. Like -say- Angel or Giorgio (remember that one?).
Why would anyone stink up such a confined place? Or a restaurant or an elevator or any of those public places that demand a degree of restraint and noblesse. I am sure you all have horror stories of being cooped up in a car with someone who did this...

It seems to me that people who are guilty as charged do not always realise the power of their olfactory fingerprint. They aim here and there regardless of the consequences, simply repeating an atavistic process of habitual spritzing of something that has taken their aura for granted. Something that might have been quite good in moderation, something that might have even elicited compliments, had they been more discerning in application or suitability to the circumstances. The familiarity that breeds itself upon years or months of continued use might be the cause of that. In that regard there is a strong case to be made out of switching perfumes now and then, to make your nose more sensitive to nuances and volume of the notes.

Other times it is just the issue of something being too weird for public use in the first place. I can personally cite my own case with Etro's Messe de Minuit. It is a slice of apocrypha, a little sage-ladden incensy thing that trasnports me, but would I venture out with it on my person? No, I wouldn't. I wouldn't want to get people into thinking that the old manuscripts I may handle in the library have found a way into my pockets! I am not the nipping kind. And why would I want to project such an image?
On the other hand, this borders on a limitation of the defensive shoulder-pads that a personal scent might warrant to the wearer. Acting as the personal space around one that needs to be breached by those special ones that the wearer allows to.

On another occassion, many years ago, I was myself seating at the theatre, waiting to watch a play by Racine when the toxic fumes of something quite sharp, intensely medicinal and simultaneously sweet in the background reached my nostrils which quivered with apprehension. It was so potent, so pervasive that it etched itself to my memory making me hating the almondy trip of Hypnotic Poison for the longest time. It took me several samplings to discern the differences between the eau de toilette and the eau de parfum. It dawned on me that I had smelled the one, while I could like the other, after all. Hypnotic Poison was re-instated in its gourmand pantheon that merits its numerous fans. I even contemplated getting a bottle at some point; an idea that never came into fruition, although I am not rejecting the possibility in the future.

And sitting down at a restaurant about to have escargots in wine and tomato sauce, I was fumigated by Angel's wake, worn by a young woman dressed to over-kill with big hoop earrings in silver, really heavy black khol and jeans down to there. Maybe there is too much attached in the visual when judging something on its olfactory attribues; maybe the two are not easy to separate and it's an anthropological thing. I don't know, it has taken me years of observation and I still haven't come with a conclusive answer.

What I do know is that when you go in a restaurant or at the movies, please be kind and consider wearing something that won't make other people wish they never ever ventured there. Maybe go for Voleur de Roses or Black XS. Used in polite moderation. And leave people having a longing to smell you again and again...


I would be interested in your comments as to what would and wouldn't be appropriate for use in confined public spaces.

Pic sent to me by mail unaccredited.

Tale of two irises (Prada Infusion d'iris and Guerlain Iris Ganache)

Like Charles Dickens knew so well, there is some charm in correlating different things and finding respective affinities. After all one would devoutly wish for an interaction between entities in the universe; a sense of belonging, of not being cut out. Dissimilar things can resemble each other in some ways while their contrast is piquant and intriguing. Such is the case with two iris perfumes that came out recently: Iris Ganache by Guerlain, their 5th scent in the exclusive L’Art et la Matière exclsuive boutique line and Prada Infusion d'iris, a new feminine scent from the italian leather and fashion company.

Guerlain tells us that this new scent is

"Un beurre d’iris travaillé comme une ganache en pâtisserie"

which roughly translates as "iris butter worked like patissery ganache".
Ganache is a sort of chocolate cream that is thick and smooth, more solid than liquid. One would assume that we are dealing with a gourmand iris and that one would not be far off.

Iris/Orris is the rhizome of a beautiful flower, mystical, subtle and discreetly melancholic, encompassing dusty, powdery and mineral qualities. The essence of a fairy that is about to die in a puff of her delicate wings. In Iris Ganache that delicate fairy is munching meringues and feeling quite well, thank you very much. Perfumer Thierry Wasser (aided by artistic director Sylvaine Delacourte) managed to marry opposites creating something that is decidedly not as audacious as it first sounds, but rather a fluffy concoction that has a tinge of violets, quite like those sweet ones surfacing in Guerlain's more commercial scent Insolence. The feel of the violet is delectable, with a tinge of milky kid's chocolate drink, a direction that was explored in one of the limited edition versions of Oscar de la Renta's, namely Oscar Violet. There, again, the unmistakable dusting of sweetened Nesquik is painting the picture in foody terms. One might even think of the light orientalised theme of last year's Ange ou Démon by Givenchy. Suffice to say that this reminiscence does not great originality make for Iris Ganache...

The opening on bergamot and cinnamon is abstract and not as spicy as that in Musc Ravageur by F.Malle, although I am sure they were aiming for something sexy in that direction.
However, this is what makes it approachable despite the "difficult" for many note of iris. If we are to take Dickens's approach to the fore, Iris Ganache is decidedly French, representing Paris, all cafés and bistros; not Café Flore with its existential milieu of Sartre and Beauvoir, animately drawing puffs from their dark cigarettes that the French love so much. This is rather a bourgeois salon de thé, where the guests are sporting pouffy chiffon blouses that caress bodies prone to sensuality thanks to the ambery fond and the musk that embrace the white chocolate. This is the less cerebral and intellectual side of Paris as befits a house that was infamously producing scents for cocottes.

Prada Infusion d'iris on the other hand is more London-like, less indulgent, much less gourmet: all wet pavement and airy notes of a steely sky that sustain themselves on a very slight vanillic base that comes from benzoin. Poised between the crystalline opening of Iris Nobile by Aqua di Parma, a fresh breath of citrusy sensuality, and the earthy yet light depths of Olivia Giacobetti's Hiris for Hermes, Infusion d'iris is the equivalent of a metallic-hued slip of a dress over a young body that radiates intelligence and discreet sensuousness. A woman that enters an indian temple, inquisitive and with a mystical yearning. There is a smooth feel to it that caresses the soul, a nod to a thinking woman's scent, with a touch of childlike softness that reminds me of an infant's s hair washed in Johnson's Baby Shampoo. The liaison is weird no doubt and the breakdown of notes does not do it justice.

The mention of lentisque made me see that it is mastic, the very Greek resin from the island of Chios that is used for the world's only natural chewing gum, skincare products, liquors and products for medicinal use. I can't say that the aroma of mastic is instantly recognisable as such, despite my familiarity with it. However there is a greeness and woodiness that makes for a very endearing emotion; that of familiarity, of belonging, of touching the earth.

Prada claimed they got inspired by an old technique of haute parfumerie (infusion) that allowed the roots of iris to "marinate" for 6 months so as to render the true soft, fresh and powdery aroma of iris and Daniela Andrier for Givaudan succeeded in producing one of the loveliest scents of the season, even if I suspect there are synthetic aromachemicals at play. It comes in minimal light pistachio-green-labeled bottle of Eau de Parfum and it is wonderfully tenacious without ever becoming suffocating.

While Iris Ganache will appeal to those who do not go for intense, carroty irises like Iris silver Mist by Lutens, Infusion d'iris might fill the void when the mood calls for something airier than the former.

Official notes:

Iris Ganache: bergamot, cinnamon, iris butter, white chocolate, patchouli, cedar, amber, vanilla, musk, powdery notes.

Infusions d'iris: galbanum, tunisian neroli, italian mandarin, lentisque (mastic), iris, cedar, vetiver, benzoin from Laos, somalian incense


For inquiries and orders on Iris Ganache call + 33 (0)1 45 62 52 57.
Prada Infusion d'iris is available in major department stores.


Pic originally uploaded at cofe.ru

Perfume Shrine is back again!

After what seemed like an eternity and in the middle of a perfume quizz that promised a niche italian bottle prize, some malicious action was taken against the Shrine. But we, perfume shriners fear not. After consulting the oracle we came up with a solution that will allow the cult to grow.
So shortly there will be more entries and the older ones will be uploaded again for your reference.

Thank you all for your ardent emailing with concerns about the fate of the Shrine.

Last but not least, for the people who commented on the Perfume Quiz, I will post the Quizz again as the contest stands. Promises are promises after all!

Perfume Quizz: win a Perfume Shrine prize!

Perfume Quizzes are usually fun. When they present the chance to win a bottle of an italian niche perfume that none of your friends will be sporting, they are even more fun! Because not only Givenchy and Coty for Covet have the right to initiate contests, right? So in the spirit of fragrance athletics, I came up with a fun little contest of my own today inspired by something that I sniffed up on a stranger in one of my walks along the beautiful, sunset-lit pier of expensive yachts I usually frequent for my afternoon stroll. This is the first in a series of little contests that Perfume Shrine will feature for our devoted readers.
So what is the contest about? You have to guess the perfume I smelled on the stranger. I will give you clues and you have three guesses each, posted in the comments section, if you want to participate.
Here we go:It was a youngish brunette woman in her late 30s, stylishly casual in her attire, with sterling silver dainty chains on her wrists and neck, who emitted the most glorious sillage of something that appeared at once subtly floral, seductive and intimate. It smelled sexy in a subdued way, yet also fresh and lively. The fragrance itself is non expensive and widely popular, recognised by many and reportedly reformulated at some point, although on her it smelled like its glorious former self and really made an impression on me. To be extra, extra devious I will venture the hint that it also marginally has to do with something pertaining to current events.

So guess away! Solution to be posted shortly.