Optical Scentsibilities: the Hug

What better way to show affection, protectiveness and love than a hug? In that spirit, the pose of a woman hugging a perfume bottle has been used a lot in advertising and it is our study subject for today.

A hug can be maternal and protective of a precious entity, signifying tenderness. As in Fidji by Guy Laroche.


And the Mother and Child by G.Klimt.



A hug can also signify daydreaming, and in it the freedom to be what one trully is. As in Caron's tender and contemplative Fleur de Rocaille.



Or in this art print in 60s style.



A hug can also be slightly provocative, sensually tantalising and promising escapades of an amorous sort. As in this ad of Senso by Ungaro featuring Nastassja Kinski from the 1980s.

Or in this famous illustration by Mel Ramos Hunts for the Best (1981), where the model suggestivelly embraces the topmost of the ketchup bottle.

Additionaly there is the semi-hug, a way of displaying the fragrance bottle than actually bringing it close to one's bosom, which can mean that it is prized loot; like in this ad for Covet by Sarah Jessica Parker. If you had followed Perfume Shrine, you will remember the wonderfully witty commercial for the scent, directed by J.P Goude.

It can also signify contemplation of the value of what its true essence means to you, like once again in the exotic shores of Fidji. The perfume becomes you, as the tagline said: "Every woman is an isle. Fidji is her perfume".

It can be your true essence itself, the magical elixir that transforms the woman into a plummed bird such as the Coco ads with Vanessa Paradis as a paradise bird (ingenious). Thus hugging the bottle is embracing the last frontier of imagination...



And finally, when something is as iconic and a mythos of its own, like Chanel No.5 is, it simply demands to be carried on the bosom as the insignia of excellence and the true arbiter of taste. Gigantic in its message as well as its physical size, it becomes bigger than life, fit to be hugged by only another living myth: Catherine Deneuve.

Which one is your favourite hug?

Pics from okadi, parfumdepub, ebay, allposters.com and art.com

Romancing the Scent 2

Is jasmine and powder seductive? In continuation of our previous post concerning itself with how a perfumer defines a romantic scent fit for seduction, Perfume Shrine today focuses on how Chris Sheldrake envisions such a fragrance. His comment appeared in the February 08 edition of Allure magazine.

Christopher Sheldrake, the nose rensponsible for almost the entire Serge Lutens line (with the exception of Iris Silver Mist by Maurice Roucel) and currently head of Research and Development at parfums Chanel, mentions that:

"in our industry, "bedroom smell" means the sensuality of jasmine, a powdery, musky soft entity - something that makes the wearer comfortable - and with a comfortable smell that pleases. It means not too violet or too rose or too animalic or too mossy."

He then goes on to suggest a romantic fragrance, naming Beautiful by Estée Lauder

"It has a powdery note and a fruitiness: a slightly jammy strawberry scent that as a perfumer I can appreciate."

Contrary to the infamous Alan Hirsch MD (of Smell and Taste Treatment and Research center in Chicago) study which states that men are aroused by the combined aroma of lavender with pumkin pie which facilitates penile blood flow, Sheldrake proposes a different combo: jasmine with a powdered musk.
For the record, the other arousing smells in the Hirsch study were doughnuts and black liquorice; or doughnuts and cola. (see more on the Hirsch study here).This had me rolling with laughter picturing cops in American movies eating doughnuts by the trackload. But I digress...

So, jasmine. A favourite flower for me, personally, and inexitricably linked to my childhood and growing up memories. The fascinating, presque suprenant facet of natural jasmine lies in its potent aroma of indole, a compound that is inherent in white florals and which we discussed on our orange blossom sexy scents post. Obviously, the familiarity of a smell so integrated to human existence as the fecal one breeds some form of recognition, if only very distant and not clearly perceived as such. The humanity beneath a fleshy smelling flower is therefore one of the aspects that account for jasmine's reputation as an erotogenic scent.

However there are many people who have trouble with jasmine: they find it too clotted, too dense, too sweet, too feral. Would its magic work on them as well? I do wonder. Perfumers use a wide variety of molecules in perfumes, natural or synthesized: jasmine absolute, jasmone, dihydrojasmone (less expensive than the former), methyl jasmonate, hedione, 2-heptylcyclopentanone... Sometimes the deciding factor on which to choose in a composition is the correlation betweem price and tonnage. Subtle differences account for a different perception among individuals who might respond with more pleasure to one than to another.
Musk is too complicated a matter to tackle in this short post, but it will be discussed shortly. Suffice to say that it is the par excellence essence prized since ancient times for its almost aphoridisiac abilities. The myriads of nuances in synthesized musks in the fragrance industry only attest to that effect: if there weren't a big demand, there wouldn't be as much industriousness in producing them. And some of them do smell kind of powdery: white musks, egyptian and "clean" musks especially.
Notice the reccurence of the powder element that was -arguably- so controversial in Sophia Grojsman's quote? Interestingly, baby powder does feature in the Hirsch study as arousing women! (men, please don't take this too seriously)

It is perhaps even more intriguing to note what Sheldrake denounces as appealing: an abundance of violet (green or candied? he doesn't specify), of rose (too old fashioned or pot-pouri-ish?), of animalic notes (too much stable-and-farm associations instead of basic instinct?) and of moss (too dirty/earthy or too musty-smelling? Again a definition would come handy).

And then what does dear Christopher do? He goes on to nominate Beautiful as a suggested romantic fragrance. A fragrance that has a tale made up about its name (per Lauder friends proclaimed it was "beautiful" upon smelling the mods when she was "creating" it) as it has had no less than five(!) perfumers working on it at International Flavors and Fragrances, as Chandler Burr reveals in his latest book.
A fragrance that supposedly has been composed of more than 200 ingredients, which to me doesn't smell of jasmine and powdery musks. A scent that has been reformulated to ill effect and which according to Susan Irvine is

"Extravagant, creamy, romantic and sweet. Ideal on a country and wester singer".

Is this your ideal of romantically appealing? I am really looking forward to your comments.


Top pic from eu zeen mag. Pic courtesy of Société Française des Parfumeurs, C.Sheldrake on the far left

Romancing the Scent

Love is in the air and the perennial question on what constitutes a romantically attractive fragrance and just how scents are perceived by the opposite sex.
The February 08 issue of Allure comes to the rescue, centering on fragrance and romance, as is usual in publications when St.Valentine's is around the corner. An article by Judy Bachrach, titled "Romance in a bottle", draws interesting opinions on the subject from famous people; two of which happen to be perfumers themselves: Sophia Grojsman and Chris Sheldrake. Their replies were so...what is the word I am searching for...that they merited their own commentary. Today we focus on the former.

I have never put great faith in the method via which Sophia Grojsman approaches femininity in perfume. I admit it in all honesty. Her creations from the bombastically pervading Tresor and the equally potent Eternity, to the luminous Paris, on to the oriental jam of Jaipur are so intense and extroverted sides of femininity that they register as caricatures in my mind: accentuating the characteristic traits that differentiate male from female in our perceived consious: The lush rose, the velvety peach, the intense floral sweetness...

Therefore when she suggests using baby-powder-smelling fragrances before jumping into bed (assuming it is with someone other than just your humble self!)as a nod to our subconsious limbic memory of getting our bottoms puffed with the stuff as babies and presumably associating the feeling of being loved and cared for with the aroma of baby powder, I am going a little "huh?"
First of all, because although this exact association is indeed tender but potentially anti-climatic in an amorous occassion (unless...let's not go there!). And secondly, because it has me wondering about how powder, and specifically baby powder registers in the mind of people in general and whether Grojsman is aware of this.

One of the most common complaints in the perfume arena of online discussion and reviewing boards, such as the hugely popular one in MakeupAlley, is that something smells of baby powder ~or baby wipes and similar products in general; clean ones it is assumed, mind you. The perceived image is uniformely unsexy. Still, there is a sinister trail of thought that goes into work here.

There is concern among some women who do have babies that it connotates tasks that remind them of burdening responsibilities and a period in their life when they felt unattractive. Therefore they would not associate those moments with a sexy afterthought. Understandable.

There is also the more sinister syllogism that babies and infants are off limits sexually (not that I disagree, of course), therefore finding an aroma associated with babies sexy is reminiscent of perverted pedophiles. Now being seen as a perverted pedophile -even in the context of merely favourite smells- is a stigma. You want to avoid that by all means.
This train of thought however takes one thing as a foregone conclusion: that perfume is first and foremost supposed to be sexually attractive and thus seen only in a sexually mature context (which is why lots of people object to kids donning fragrance). Ergo, if perfume is to be taken seriously, it must not smell of babies, or it is "sick".

To that opinion one might radically disagree, especially if one has a keen interest in olfaction in general.
And this is also one of the great divides between American and European sensibilities, as European advertisements do not hesitate to present talcum-scented products in appealing ways that suggest some tinge of sensuous allure. Whether that has to do with widespread pedophile circuits and infantilism, well...let's not go there. A can of worms that can't be opened with impunity.
Suffice to say that for Americans the baby powder connotation is smelling of Johnson & Johnson's citrusy, lightly floral vanilla, while for Europeans it is the orage blossom-and-light-musk of Mustela and Nenuco, as evidenced by the experience of Jean Claude Ellena.

However in typical paranoia and irony some baby powdery scents have proven to be huge bestsellers, eclipsing other scents that launched tagged as sexy. Examples of talcum-laced scents are Flower by Kenzo or Cashmere Mist by Donna Karan. Others have proclaimed their baby pedigree unashamedly, like Petits et Mamans by Bvlgari. And still some have become cult classics with their vat-of-talc odour, like Teint de Neige and Keiko Mecheri's Loukhoum. The choice is yours...



What is your opinion on this subject? I would be interested in reading your comments on this.



To be continued.....


Pic via Flickr

Juicy commentary to follow...

Recently I had had the rare pleasure and honour of being invited to the presentation of Chandler Burr's book The Perfect Scent in New York on January 7, among other fellow bloggers, such as the esteemed girls of Perfume Posse. Incapacitated to physically attend, I was solaced by satiating my curiosity reading the book ~which incidentally is launching officially today~ and by interviewing mr. Chandler Burr himself; the fruits of which conversation I am sure you have followed here on the blog {click for part 1 and part 2}.

In the interests of objectivity and giving a personal opinion on several points on the published oeuvre of this fragrance-creation trailing, I am planning on commenting on certain juicy parts very shortly, while other surprises are also looming up. Stay tuned!



Pic sent to me by email unaccredited (isn't it fab?)

Outlaws and Brigands: Bandit by Piguet (fragrance review)

It was 1944, when WWII was at its most crucial stages with the battle of Monte Cassino, the fall of Rome to the Allies, the maiden flight of the Bristol Brigand and subsequently D-day that Robert Piguet had sent his models down the runway brandishing knives, toy revolvers and masks like highwaymen, like outlaws. And it was this occasion that prompted Germaine Cellier to grab the models’ knickers after they had walked the catwalk, reputedly studying their scent in an effort to “capture the best of their femininity” for the couturier’s first foray into fragrance. Whether she did and how one defines femininity in the first place is food for thought.

Cellier herself was outwardly conforming to all the perceived ideas of it: beautiful, slim, blond and tall, she exuded an air of elegance. Yet her reputation was tinged with shades of unconventionality and homosexuality and her creations were aiming to reflect different perceptions of Yin and Yang. Fracas was made for the femmes, Bandit was for the dykes.

In those times of closeted sexuality, these were hints that never left the inner sanctum and remained under wraps. Today it is a matter of playful reversal of roles, when women are freer with their sexual identity and image and are conscious of how they can juggle both sides. In saying that however I realize that both of those sides are dark and dangerous and not to be trifled with: both Fracas and Bandit pack a punch and are smirking with the knowledge of their own sinister powers. To Fracas’s torrid tuberose that makes you either fall madly in love with or shun forever, Bandit juxtaposes daring, bitter green leather which, according to a male admirer smelling it, exudes aloofness, rebellious intellectuality and absolutely requires an expanse of skin to show for its sensuality to bloom.


Classified as a leather chypré, Bandit manages to pose a glorious riddle that has a resonance even to today’s sensibilities, staying resolutely, brilliantly modern and quite young in spirit, contrary to many chypres and leather scents. There is simply nothing like it on the market, although many have drawn inspiration from its complex leather and greens accord.

“Beautiful but brutal” is how the perfumer Guy Robert described it and he couldn’t be more accurate about a scent that opens on the intense slap of galbanum greeted by hazy blossoms on a bed of raw hide, rendered by 1% of isobutyl quinoline!
A woman has seized her boyfriend’s bomber jacket, which has rolled into mud and grass and bitter Artemisia and still holds the remnants of that contraband cigarette he smoked (or some weed, according to some!) when he was waiting for the call for action. Her own female scent has permeated the lining with warmth, her floral-laced soap and powder, her brunette feral muskiness and the mossy feel of wet earth underneath. There is an androgynous energy travelling throughout the scent with a hint of S/M which addresses our need to reassess how we view women and their role. Bandit’s copious sillage and intense bitterness will surely make eyebrows rise and mother-in-laws shake with trepidation upon meeting you; unless they’re elegant and mischievous themselves, in which case they will reply with a wink.


It is of interest to note that men could carry off Bandit admirably and in fact lots of older gentlemen apparently do, according to French sales assistants working for the brand! Also interesting is that there an eau de toilette of Bandit is/was aimed at men, sold at Fragancenet.com: the main difference being it is very rough, with a distinct lineage to Aramis and a golden cap instead of the usual black one for the ladies.

Bandit had stayed in the shadows for long, before the fashion hysteria for Fracas in the 1990s brought deserved attention to the forgotten house of Piguet again. Indeed it was upon re-seizure of the Piguet house by Fashion Fragrances and Cosmetics that it got re-issued by Givaudan’s nose Delphine Lebeau.

The matter of its various concentrations and shades of difference betweeen different batches within the same concentration merrited its own research.
Therefore, for clarity we state the following: The original vintage composition came in parfum, eau de toilette and eau de cologne. The eau de toilette is the sharper of the lot, while the eau de parfum is greener. Parfum is sublime and smooth, but I am perfectly happy with my eau de parfum. This was a later, indeterminate addition, resulting in two versions of Bandit eau de parfum circulating in the market: one is the certified "new" version (which I have) which is close to the original, vintage formula that bears a certification on the box; and the other is the "reformulated" version that got issued before 1996 under Andrian Arpel. That intermediary version manufactured by Adrian Arpel is the one that was sold until 1996/1997 and older stock on etailers might be it. The bottles do not present visual differences in their opaque black with yellow edge around the label, apart from the box.

The certification on the box reads:

"Certification
This is the original formula for Bandit
created by this company with Robert Piguet
for the introduction of the perfume in 1944
Errol G.W.Stafford
President
Givaudan perfume corporation"

To help matters more, the “original” version also states “made in France”, while the other does not.
The eau de toilette that circulated under Andrian Arpel (Alfin inc. being his previous company name) bears this label:

“Parfums ROBERT PIGUET
Made in France
For Alfin.inc
New York NY
10019”

The official Piguet site does not mention eau de toilette at all. However they do mention a body lotion available.
Bandit is available online at Barneys, Bergdorf Goodman, Nordstrom, First in Fragrance and various online stores (just keep an eye for all the different batches!)

Notes for Robert Piguet Bandit: galbanum, artemisia, neroli, orange, ylang ylang, jasmine, rose, tuberose, carnation, leather, vetiver, oakmoss, musk, patchouli.

And a lucky draw for our readers: if you want to be elligible for a sample of the Eau de Parfum, to see what all the fuss is about, please state so in the comments!

EDIT TO ADD: As of late 2012, a new reformulation of Bandit is under way by perfumer Aurelien Guichard to comply with latest IFRA allergens restrictions in fragranced products. Please note that the review refers to previous to that reformulation batches. We will update with a comparison as soon as a sample of the reformulated lands on our lap.

Pic of Bandit ad by okadi. Painting of Sappho by Mengin courtesy of perso.orange.fr. Pic of Bandit Eau de toilette from Fragrancenet.com