The Mirror Has Two Faces

Narciso Rodriguez has given his two fragrances, For Her and For Him, limited edition mirror-bottles to drive your inner obsessive-compulsive crazy taking care of the inevitable smudges. Come on, admit it, you always wanted to check your lipstick while spraying fragrance, didn't you? The two woody, orientally-inspired (?) fragrances are housed in distinctive, silver bottles designed to "play off one another, just like the opposite sexes," says Rodriguez. They have just launched.

Info and pic via Vogue.co.uk

It Smelled so Good and Now I Am Not Loving it as Much!

One of my readers, the lovely Sandra from Prague, sent me an intriguing mail the other day recounting a phenomenon not unheard of among perfume lovers ~no, not reformulation:

"Before taking off to Tunisia, I bought a fragrance pretty much unsniffed - OK sniffed briefly for top notes which is not much help. Estee Lauder Beyond Paradise Blue. In the hotel room it smelled ... well, sort of sea-like fresh and in any case noticeable in the oppressive heat, unlike Azuree Soleil, the epitomy of beach bliss, who could frankly not be detected at all. Now I know why Arabs wear such strong fragrances! Nothing else penetrates the solid wall of heat.

Back in Prague, what's left in the bottle of Beyond Paradise Blue smells ... well beyond paradise, not in hell exactly, but AWFUL, with a strong air-freshener synthetic note that makes me sneeze. And yet, when I spray it on - with a light hand this time - I hear the waves splashing the warm sand, feel the warm lapping of sea foam around my ankles, my toes sinking in the shore, the breeze singing in my hair, and the salty smell of the sea. I feel free-spirited and joyful and forgive Beyond Paradise all the pointy venomous critics I would otherwise no doubt utter."

This made me recall about when I tried an unidentified batch and concentration of L'Heure Bleue in a big department store on the Guerlain counter one fateful hot afternoon that I bought Vetiver instead (which I loved, by the way). Coming back home the heavens opened and magisterial orchards came into vision with all the grandeur of a royal pavillion. The experience was never replicated and L'Heure Bleue has not smelled so poignantly beautiful to me ever again. It will always trouble me, because I view the scent very differently now: what was that nectar and why it smelled so good on that particular day when I was so young and so carefree? Perhaps what that smell reminds me of is exactly the smell of my insouciance and the enthusiasm with which I viewed my budding occupation. Perhaps it irrigates my mind still for a reason which I have yet to find.

Have you had similar experiences?

Pic taken at Lagonissi, Greece

Guerlain Gourmand Coquin, Chypre Fatal, Oriental Brulant: fragrance reviews and musings

Like probably half the female population of the affluent West with about 40 minutes to kill on a winter's week evening ~nails filed at advertising breaks~ I used to watch the comedic escapades of four women on the verge of breakdown (which rarely resulted in stylistic mishaps) as they struted their proud frames along the avenues of Manhattan in Sex & the City.
In the last season's finale Carrie, the marginally emancipated singleton with a shoe fixation, abandonds her beloved New York for Paris to follow her Russian "lovah" who happens to be an artist. Eager to explore the mystique of Paris she dreams of drinking dark-roasts and smoking Gitanes where Sartre smoked, read under the trees in Boulevard Saint-Germain and live the life of a woman in love in the city of romanticism. In view of all that, she mysteriously doesn't go after perfumes (what??) or Lucien Pellat Finet but rather chooses to slip and fall on her face in the Dior boutique instead, which begs the question: do the French wax their marbles to a slippery shine? Ruining her shoes stepping into poo and having a young kid stick her tongue out at her are the reality checks of the god of small things. Suffice to say Paris doesn't really prove like she hoped it would be and in a Dorothy-out-of-Oz conclusion she retraces her path back to Mr.Big who "rescues" her and to the Big Apple.

Guerlain is like the emblematic Paris in the mind of a fragrance fanatic: if it's not good there, it can't be good anywhere. Or so we're led to think. And what do they do about that, you ask? Lately they often present us with the glowing facade of shinning marble to let us fall flat on our face on the disillusionment of shattered expectations with no poo note in there to soften the blow.

Their new trio Elixirs Charnels (Carnal Elixirs) in marshmallow shades have appeared on the horizon of exclusive ~aka expensive~ launches that have otherwise sane people salivating with the anticipation of exquisite rare pearls of non pareil spherical shape to realise that for all their pretty veneer they hide a somewhat lackluster core, chipped by nails that will handle them repeatedly. The idea of perfumer Christine Nagel and artistic director Sylvaine Delacourte of women choosing roles according to moods helps intrigue the consumer, subliminally hinting that they might serve variable purposes; which is exactly the good ole' concept of a "fragrance wardrobe". Nevertheless, although they pose as contrasting personae (the playful woman-child, the icy femme fatale of a Hitchcokian thriller or the hyper-hormoned bombshell that bursts at the seams) they more or less offer a similarly tame exposition of feminine pleasantry. Well-made technically and very approachable, they part ways with Guerlain's older classics being resolutely modern and instantly appealing. Are they sexy? Let's not forget Chris Sheldrake's quote: "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." Let's repeat: not too violet or too rose or...etc.

Gourmand Coquin reprises the caramellic tonalities of Spiritueuse Double Vanille with less depth, possibly with a burnt cotton-candy note more than anything else bringing it close to Aquolina's Pink Sugar and L'artisan's Vanilia. Sweet is as sweet does and I predict this fluffy confectionary pastry that has no bitterness of Valhrona chunks, but only milky lappings of ganache (but less than Iris Ganache) will become very popular.

Chypre Fatal is poised in the venerable cloak of chypre bearing the burden of fatality when the most it could do would be to slap you with the peeled skin of a peach. Not exactly in the mould of modern chypres à la Narciso Rodriguez (which Nagel co-authored) ~those are rather woodies with sanitized patcouli notes~ but not a classic chypre either, Chypre Fatal takes fruitiness into the realm of a clean, if unexciting, musky scent that can be effortlessly worn by even the most meak. This kitten purrs rather than hisses.

Oriental Brûlant is the one closer to the orientalia tradition of Guerlain, if only because it contains that ambery powdery Woofer surround that is the trademark of a recognisably erotic fragrance, in which the French house has excelled for so long. It also manages to smell at once comforting and confident with its hazy almondy tonalities and a silken thread of cool that ties it to Ambra del Nepal by I Profumi di Firenze and Ambre Fétiche by Goutal, as well as the attractive interplay between cool and warm facets of Sonia Rykiel Women- not for men! Oriental Brûlant might not be terribly innovative, but it's quite fetching! Try to forget the advertising scenario and picture it as a personal amulet on days of torpor.

Ultimately, Guerlain's Carnal Elixirs, much like that season finale showed, prove that not everything is as you expect it. And in the end, that's "Abso-fuckin'-lutely" OK.

Official notes:
Gourmand Coquin notes: black pepper, rose, rum, chocolate.
Chypre Fatal notes: white peach, rose, patchouli, vanilla.
Oriental Brûlant notes: clementine, almond, tonka beans, vanilla.

Guerlain Carnal Elixirs are currently available in Eau de Parfum oblong bottles of 75 ml at 165 € via La Maison Guerlain, 68 Avenue des Champs-Elysées, Paris or Begdrof Goodman in New York.

Pic of Sarah Jessica Parker courtesy of HBO. Bottle pics via Le critique du parfum.

Vetiver Series 5: the Straight, the Strange & the Sweet

There is just something about empyreal vetiver that makes it the perfect transitional olfactory module between an Indian summer of bright blouses and the more serious tweeds of truly autumnal weather. Vetiver's shades of green oscillate between the pale jade of cooler citrusy or milky-soapy variations of the note to the subterranean raw umber of earthy persuasions, through warm hazel with the golden flecks of sweet renditions. Sometimes this improvised colour schema is dictated by inherent personalities that emerge like leprechauns out of the flacon. Othertimes it has to do with my own sensibility when I am matching a fragrance to a current mood and letting it take me over the edge of perception.

The cooler end of the spectrum has the zestiness of hesperidic touches that end Cologne-like pick-me-up mode for days when the daze of summer holidays hasn't fully escaped my mind and the rush of the academic beginnings hasn't set in properly yet. The classic Vétiver by Guerlain is such an example, while I Profumi di Firenze Fresco di Vetiver with its bright yellow Sicilian lemons pushes the boundaries of freshness even more ~hard to picture it in cooler weather~ while still having vetiver sing its persistent basso continuo. On the other hand Vetiver by Floris although pleasantly grassy and citrusy lacks the distinction of more bracing compositions.

Some fragrances that bear the grassy root name on their fancy bottles bear little relation to the smell of either the dried roots or the potent essential oil rendered from them. You would expect from Le Labo, makers of Patcouli 24 that smells perversely of tarry leather, to compose a scent that bears no accuracy between label and juice: their Vetiver 46 is cool incense smoke with no root in sight! Patricia de Nicolai's Vetyver buttresses the root with jolting spice (black pepper, clove, coriander and cumin) and lemon tartness to assuage the earthiness in an scent that seems misleadingly labelled, interesting nonetheless. Creed's Original Vetiver opts for a lathery approach which comes and goes like whiffs of a foamy bubble-bath escaping through a closed bathroom door. Although the root is present, the alkaline smell of soap and the crispness of citrus that wafts nicely make this more office-appropriate than rolling on the forest floor after an improptu picnic a deux. When Lanvin decided to ressurect Vetyver L'Homme from oblivion (originally it launched in 1964) they engaged Francois Robert from Synarome who used 10 all-natural ingredients out of the alleged 14 to render an understated, slightly fruity variation that makes me wonder how the original might have smelled. As it is it's not corresponding to the expectations I formed reading the detailed descriptions of the Lanvin site. But if Lanvin's is meak and sterile, Annick Goutal's Vetiver is the other face of Ianus, the non-smiling one. Its iodine ambience with salty overtones puts it firmly into the territory of atypical and thus stimulating.

Direct vetiver fragrances emphasize the character of the root in a straight-arrow way, hitting bull's eye every singe time. The prototype Vétiver Extraordinaire by Frédéric Malle (composed by Dominique Ropion) contains possibly the highest levels of vetiver essences on the market today: it resembles verdant wet patches amidst cobblestones in a Medieval Italian town where students of medicine sharpened their pencils with knives. Route du Vétiver from Maître Parfumeur et Gantier bursts forth with the buoyancy of a surgical scalpel: it almost cauterizes the olfactory nerve with the raw sharpness of its Bourbon vetiver, upholded with a little blackcurrant, lots of patchouli and woody accents. The dark liquid that nests inside L'artisan Parfumeur Vetiver is pure; strong and earthy Bourbon vetiver joined by oakmoss and patchouli in an engaging conversation of earthy personae with the merest hint of hesperides. In the dimuniation of the citrus effect, Santa Maria Novella went one better with their own Vetiver: earthy, strong, especially for an Eau de Cologne concentration, with not a lemon rind in sight.

Smoke often compliments the green side of vetiver with an ineffable elegance. The classic Vetyver by Givenchy murmurs the way a well-bred gentleman of another era might. Sycomore by Chanel Les Exclusifs has a celestial beauty beneath its auspicious smoke rings. Etro Vetiver opens with a strong, earthy, true vetiver note that is dry and straight with a resemblance to the one by L'artisan minus the citrusy top and little clouds of smoke in the background. The very dark-coloured Vetiver from Lorenzo Villoresi bursts forth with less grace, unapologetically and emasculatedly strong, buoyed by bergamot while sandalwood and pepper lend an appealing backdrop that peters out in smoke.

Perhaps the most interesting addition to vetiver for me is spice with its hot-cold interplay which keeps me alert and bypasses the risks of being maudlin. Andy Tauer used both clean notes (such as a composite of lily of the valley aromatics and clary sage) and strong spices sashaying around his vetiver in Vetiver Dance, a composition that is destined to become beloved.

Sweet cadenzas with hints of gourmand delights flank some of the vetiver fragrances that can be shared by both sexes: From the slight sweetness of old-fashioned feminine Kus Kus by Bourbon French of New Orleans, which recalls the aldehydic powdery facet of Ma Griffe to the roasted French blend served with caramellised sticks of Black Vetyver Café by Jo Malone. Carlo Corinto Vetyver is darkish in hue, earthy and aromatic, but with the intrigue of licorice upon twisting the cap which makes it peculiar. Although it might seem like it has some of the sharpness of Route de Vetiver initially, it softens considerably thanks to sandalwood. My personal default gourmand vetiver is none other than the nutty, almost boozy Vetiver Tonka from the Hermessences composed by Jean Claude Ellena: its coumarinic sweetness well tempered by the grassy aroma, it's easy to wear in any weather, thus panseasonal and wafting a tasteful sillage as my arms brush against my clothes. And then there is the majestic anise and sweetly-buttery amber delicacy of Vetiver Oriental by Serge Lutens, an oriental at the edge of foresty that leaps into winter effortlessly.

Last but not least there are scents including a hefty dose of vetiver so magnificently evocative of places and situations that they defy a simple pigeon-holing; you're at a loss on how to begin to describe their arresting strangeness. Onda by Vero Profumo is such a fragrance that has the power to obliterate seasons and moods.

Pic of Alain Delon courtesy of Lilydebretagne/flickr. Pic of Asian forest courtesy of Trekearth.

Roxana Villa of Roxana Illuminated Perfume: Musings on Natural Perfumery, Reviews and Perfume Notes

"Kennst du das Land wo die Zitronen blühen? Im dunklen Laub die Gold-Orangen glühen, ein sanfter Wind vom Blauen Himmel weht,die Myrte still und hoch der Lorbeer steht, Kennst du es wohl?" (=Do you know the land where the lemon trees blossom? Among dark leaves the golden oranges glow. A gentle breeze from blue skies drifts. The myrtle is still, and the laurel stands high. Do you know it well?)

It's this famous description of Italy in Goethe's song from Wilhelm Meister "Kennst du das Land" (set to music as opus D.321 by Franz Schubert) that opens the description of Roxana Illuminated Perfume by natural perfumer Roxana Villa. Roxana is of the South (not Italy though) and it shows.
I don't consider it embarassing to admit that I discovered Roxana and her company while searching for paintings and "stumbled" on her blog. What made me pause and pay attention was the original artwork I saw there, which I soon found out was created by Roxana herself, a competent artist in both the aromatic and visual arena, and the illustrator Gregory Scott Spalenka. The illustrations on her site bring to mind the alchemical tradition of the Middle Ages as does the flou artistique imagery by Spalenka evocative of the realms that the fragrances come to evoke. Her method of working was referenced as "creating a painting of a perfume": And then the olfactory promise laid out its trap.

Natural perfumery has known a gigantic resurgence in later years, filling an existing lacuna and answering to two main needs: wanting to go back to the roots of alchemical perfumery after what seemed like a highly technology-driven and marketability-focused long phase, as well as the desire for individual, more esoteric perfumes that will act as a connection with Earth. Of course the latter might bring to mind cliché images of Earth Mother types chanting Om as they chime little bells doing their yoga routine and growing roses that like to be read Milton by the light of the moon, resulting in pot-pouri alloys fit for the headshop. This brings its own fatootsed discourse, but nothing could be further from the truth: many of those people interested in the field are not pursuing it from the aromatherapy or arcane angle at all but from the artistic viewpoint and they are genuinely vuying for beauty, often casting their eyes back to primitivism the way Gaugin did. There is also the further complication of what exactly defines "natural", what methods of extraction are allowed (are isolates and C02 extractions OK? Yes, apparently) and the ad hoc limitations of a natural palette. Not to mention that how to make a natural-based fragrance suitable for all is often a challenge because of the sheer complexity of natural essences, like oakmoss. Yet natural perfumers do try and they enrich the field with their efforts.
Roxana describes her own particular division of natural perfumery as "botanical". As she explained to Sniffapalooza: "Botanical is the term that resonates with what I choose to create, both visually and aromatically. At times I include essences that come from the sea or apis realm, which technically are not botanical in nature, however my palette is comprised of ninety nine percent botanical ingredients. I choose to work with essences that are whole, organic and of vital origin whenever possible. The animal ingredients like civet, ambergris and castoreum, contained in many natural perfumes are not in the fragrances I formulate."

Born in Buenos Aires, Argentina, Roxana grew up in Los Angeles, California. Upon receiving a BFA in Communication Design from Otis Parsons in downtown Los Angeles, Roxana moved to New York and began work as a freelance illustrator in the world of publishing. After the birth of her daughter, she studied Aromatherapy formerly learning the miraculous powers inherent in the plant kingdom. Blending the knowledge of nature with a loving art spirit, Roxana now creates perfumes that reflect a healing modality whilst celebrating the individual. In June of 2007 Roxana was the keynote speaker at the Ojai Lavender Festival and she continues to speak and teach regularly.

Two lines comprise her fragrant bodywork: the Californica series which celebrates the aromatic landscape of the state of California (Q, Vera, Sierra, Chaparral) and the Literarium series, inspired by literary and musical exempla, honoring the fine art of story-telling (Vespertina, Lyra). There is also Aurora, one of her first florals.

All the Roxana Illuminated Perfume scents I sampled share the natural perfumes aesthetic in that they wear close to the skin and have a herbal, non-perfume-y quality about them which is surprisingly comforting sometimes in contrast to the scintilatting but -alas- also often screechy projection of mainstream perfumery. The initial jolt shouldn't fool you into dismissing the accords, because a few minutes later the projection becomes friendly. The two that captured my interest most were Q and Lyra.
It would be natural you might say, if you have followed Perfume Shrine, to see that the earthy woody Q made an impression as it is richly infused with the tannic smell of oak, peppery accents and an ambery-like base reminiscent (to me) of labdanum and patchouli, which is restrained on the sweetness aspect. Q (for Quercus agrifolia) began as a tribute to Beltane (one of the four "fire" festivals in Celt tradition) which auspiciously led to the mighty oak. The feeling is poised between seasons, very fit for spring or autumn, making me want to sit under the deep foliage and let the wind breathe tales of yore into my ear.
Lyra on the other hand is a more vivacious, euphoric affair with the immediacy of flowers, especially the fresh, almost fruity piquancy of what seems like orange blossom, jasmine and tropical ylang ylang singing out of the bottle like alto voices in melodious thirds. Inspired by the brightness of the night-sky asteroid near Vega but also the heroine of the book "The Golden Compass" by Philip Pullman, the floriental Lyra is shining with its own bright veneer. This white floral composition is especially appreciated in a natural blend as there is none of the florist shop headspace of department store fragrances: rather the blossoms exude a deeper, more solid, hefty presence in the accompaniment of a classic warm base of ambery resins and hesperidic overtures. Perhaps the only drawback is the rather limited lasting power, but this is something that can be easily amended by re-application.

The Illuminated Perfume scents are:
AURORA
Notes include: Mandarin, Spice, Egyptian Jasmine, Rose, Amber. (In its 2nd edition)

CHAPARRAL
Comprising essences, accords and tinctures are of plants found in the Chaparral Biome of California.
Notes include: Citrus, Mimosa, Iris Root, Sage, Rhodendron, Pine, Cypress. The 2nd edition is available this Autumn. Portion of the proceeds from each 1/4 oz perfume sale supports The Chaparral Institute.

VERA
Many of the essences are grown and distilled in Ojai, with regional plants utilized in our specially prepared tinctures.
Notes include: Lemon, Lavender, Orange Blossom, Hay, Coastal Sage, Seaweed, Labdanum. (Currently in its 2nd edition).

Q (known as Quercus in a previous incarnation)
Tinctured Oak leaves combine with accords of Citrus, Wood and Resin. (Currently in its 2nd edition) Portion of the proceeds from each 1/4 oz perfume supports The California Oak Foundation.

SIERRA
The most complex of our perfumes, combining chords within accords of Conifer, Wood and Resin. Portion of the proceeds from each 1/4 oz perfume supports TreePeople.

VESPERTINA
Notes include: Orange, Spice, Rose, Jasmine, Patchouli, Distilled Earth, Oud. (Currently in its 1st edition).

LYRA
Notes include: Pink Grapefruit, Egyptian Jasmine, Ylang Ylang, Complex Amber Accord. (The 3rd edition available soon).
The inspiration for Lyra began with a custom perfume created for Roxana's daughter Eve (Evangeline).


To find out more visit the Illuminated Perfume site. You can obtain the same samples I got: sample vial gift pack (set of three 1 gram bottles) $25 or sample vial gift pack (six of three 1 gram bottles) $50. They will come in a little box with the cutest wax seal embossed with a bee, beautifully wrapped.

What is most intriguing for the numerous women in search of their very own individual perfume is the Custom Perfume Portraits service, of which there are two options: Bronze package: $5oo and Platinum package: $1000.

Roxana will be attending the October Snifapalooza Fall Ball in New Yok City, headlining the October 11th luncheon (presenting a fifth Californica surprise scent, the 2nd edition of Chaparal and solid versions of her scents): to participate, contact Karen Adams at kadams@sniffapalooza.com.
For those in California, there will be an Aromatherapy 101 Seminar by Roxana on November 12th in the Santa Monica Massage School. Call 818.763.4912 to register.

Pics of artwork by Greg Spalenka and Roxana Villa provided by Roxana Illuminated Perfume, not to be reprinted wihout permission.