Manoumalia by Les Nez: fragrance review

Kia ora tātou!, which means "greetings" in New Caledonian, should be the line that introduces the first fragrance of 2009. As reported earlier, Manoumalia is the newest fragrance from small niche brand Les Nez (Parfums d'auteurs) from Klingnau, Switzerland, officially out in January, of which I was fortunate to get a pre-sniff.

Sandrine Videault, the perfumer of Manoumalia, herself a New Caledonian, was inspired by Wallis [1] in November 2007 in almost an ethnographical exploration to appreciate the essences that would comprise the theme based on the olfactory culture of this exotic locale. Following a documentary of RFO televized in New Caledonia, Malia, a native woman, offered to show Sandrine her savoir-faire of perfumes, in which Tuitui [2] , the par-excellence-Wallesian essence is the protagonist. Her name, Malia, became part of the fragrance's name.
Manou on the other hand is a tad more complicated: When visiting Ouvéa, an island of the Kanak tribe, it is expected to present a traditional gift on visiting a local family or when meeting the tribe leader: the "manou" (pronounced man-oo) and some tobacco. "Manou" is a piece of material used as a wrap around the hips, evoking other exotic uses of woven cloth in different cultures around the world: the colourful gold-threaded saris of India, the alluring sarongs of Java, or the pin-up immortalised pāreu (or pareos) of Tahiti.
What's intriguing me greatly however is a fleeting memory of the "Code of Manou" from my early university days while assisting a Sanskrit professor write up a treatise on etymological parallels to ancient Greek. Part of the earliest Vedic writing (12th century BC), the "Code of Manou" is according to Alexander del Mar ~a 19th century coin historian, all but forgotten by historians, if not by history itself~ who, intent on claiming that ancient Indian scriptures reference coinage in the Indus valley before anyplace else, etymologically tied Manou with lawgivers Mene of Egypt and Minos of Crete. Although the claim is weakened by lack of concrete archeological evidence, the mention of Dharana, a coinage, coming from the verb Dhri (=to hold) instigated inadverted fascination in me: The ancient Greek coin of δραχμή/drachma would therefore be coming from the Indian root Drax (=handful)!

Should we then approach Manoumalia as the gift to Malia or the gift by Malia? Or perhaps the wrap of Malia, in which the sum of her aromatic journeys has been contained? Or yet still a handful of Malia's spiritual substance in the form of a fragrance to be used on one's person? It is always enjoyable to ponder on the onomastics of a perfume, allowing me to effortlessly slip into reverie.

The tradition of the Wallisians is richly steeped into the preparation of fragrant potions. Bracelets and necklaces (such as leis) are made through weaving intoxicating blossoms; spices such as the dusty yellow of curcuma is used to paint the body; sandalwood dust is made into a thick paste for treating and colouring the hair. Tutui [2] is comparable to importance to what tiare is to Tahitians. To Wallisians being illeterate in the language of scent is akin to being unknowledgable in the wiles of attraction and almost close to being a social pariah! Intepreting this culture into a single fragrance seems impossible and in fact would not be wise. Therefore Manoumalia focused in bringing some aspects of it into a modernised, westernised fragrance that can be appreciated by perfume lovers of a certain niche.

The Manoumalia heart is sketched around Fragrea Berteriana [3], a bushy shrub growing to tree-like proportions with intoxicatingly scented flowers which are traditionally strung into leis. The Polynesians are long known to make a perfume by macerating the flowers into coconut oil. The Hawaiian name for fragrea, pua kenikeni, translates roughly to "ten cents flower" or "coin flower", thus named because of the cost per flower at one time. (You can even buy your own seeds and grow it from scratch!)


One of the last students of Edmond Roudnitska, Sandrine Videault is best known for her historical fragrances (such as her Kyphi recreation for the Cairo museum in 2002) and olfactive shows. Previous fragrances composed by her include Ambre Indien by Esteban and La Rose de Carole Bouquet for Truffault, Paris.

Mentioning Roudnitska in the same breath as a floral fragrance, one would expect an affinity for green touches allied to subtle chypré qualities. And yet I only have to smell the drydown of Manoumalia to draw different conclusions. The sparseness of formula seems to be there because byzantine plots have been eschewed in favour of a streamlined approach. But the radiance of its huge floral heart along with a butyric touch (that recalls chamomille to me) conspire to evoke some aspects of Fracas. The strange mixture of powder, burnt wood and rubber which seems to be at the core of the latter reverberates through this floral as well. I am hypothesizing that there might be inclusion of aldehyde C18 (technically gamma-nonalactone) for its unctuous, coconutty, milky, soft tropical quality too. The Fauvist approach of Cellier, who also favoured streamlined compositions, is not as jarringly evident in Sandrine's work here, nevertheless. The composition is softer, warmer, making it less monumental but more approachable by many.
Although tiare has been a darling among teen celebritoids in such permutations as Monyette, Paris and Coquette Tropique (by the same brand), Manoumalia rises above them to the level of Intense Tiare by Montale, a fragrance richly redolent of monoï (tiare petals macerating in coconut oil) ~although I am not suggesting they smell the same. The almost fruity jasmine-y intensity of ylang-ylang never fails to make my mind fly to warm tropical paradises in the midst of winter cold, but it is the earthy unrooted vetiver that provides a grounding touch like immersing my hands into a bag of uprooted bulbs. (Vetiver is much more apparent when the fragrance is sprayed on skin than on a mouillette, please note).
A subtle vanillic-woody underpinning undulates out of the richness of the floral-woody chord of Manoumalia remaining for a while on the skin as a discreet memento of a journey to the South Pacific.

Notes for Les Nez Manoumalia :
Fagrea[3], vetiver, tiare, sandalwood dust, ylang ylang, amber accord.

Manoumalia will be available in a 50ml bottle directly through the Les Nez site starting sometime in January, as well as at Luckyscent, Aus Liebe Zum Duft, and Cale.it

[1]Wallis and Futuna is a Polynesian French island territory (but not belonging to, or even contiguous with, French Polynesia) in the South Pacific between Fiji and Samoa.
[2]Tuitui is a plant of the family Euphorbiaceae, commonly known as Candlenut/Varnish Tree (Lichtnussbaum in German) with white flowers in a shape like a cross between orange blossom and jasmine which is used mainly for the nuts and the oil distilled from them.
[3]Fagraea is a plant endimic to the South Seas islands, belonging to the family Loganiaceae, one species of which is the famous fagraea berteriana (pua kenikeni/Perfume Flower Tree) abundant in Maui.

In the interests of disclosure, I got sent a free sample of Manoumalia through the Les Nez give-away of samples during the last forthnight of December.
Pics copyrighted by Les Nez, used by permission

A 2008 Retrospective

The end of the year is always a time of contemplation: summing up what happened, what left its indelible mark and what could have gone better. This is true in all things and more so when one is compiling a list for publishing purposes such as happens here. Theoretically, this recap should serve as a history lesson in not repeating the same mistakes and helping map out a better and more fruitful new year. Arguably, as per Hegel, "we have never learned anything from history, or acted on principles deducted from it " [1] however, which is so painfully true for the fragrance world and the luxury section in general. But let's not dampen our spirits just yet! Perhaps as evidenced before someone is paying attention, so here's to a better 2009.
The Perfume Shrine, along with a group of esteemed independent perfume bloggers participating, decided to publish some musings on 2008 and its fragrant twists and turns. So here are mine.

Something is rotten at the kingdom of Fragland?
To take things at the top, the main problem is there are too many fragrance launches. I mean, they're like rice grains as a reward on a chess board in some ancient tale or microbes on a petri-dish: one is not having an embarassement of riches anymore, but an embrassement full-stop. I know I am not the only one who has become jaded after all this time watching one after another announce the new miraculous composition that will incidentally both cure AIDS and end world hunger while making us smell fabulous. It's hard to get surprised any more, I guess. Still, the latest Serge Lutens ~which my friend Denyse was first to spread the news of~, the upcoming Hermessence and the newest Annick Goutal have managed to create some palpitations to my -otherwise- lukewarm heart. I'd hate to be disappointed and it's rather late to plead with the companies and the perfumers to please not mess with my heartstrings (they're all coming out in January, so we'll find out soon enough), so I am merely extending my wishes for something if not magnificent and earth-shattering, at least interesting enough.
It's worthwhile to note that amidst what is generally referenced as the worst recession since 1989, the hyper-luxe companies, such as By Killian, state that they have not noticed a decline in their turnover. Sibyllic...

Everyone is an Expert
When "Perfumes the Guide" erupted at the end of last March like a Godzilla-sized "menace" (?) on the front of thirsty lands (the perfume-discussing ones, I mean), suddenly a whole stampede of people nodding their heads energetically started quoting bits and pieces in order to justify their personal preferences; while another group of people were actively voicing their opposition questioning the validity of those opinions in that book in not so polite terms. The phenomenon left us with something of the weird mix of mirth, sarcasm and pained empathy. (Surely the authors were entitled to their opinions, weren't they? I thought they were).
Never before has such a small world taken itself at such breadth of importance! It was like watching Tim Burton's "Mars Attacks" with lots of popcorn. It was almost certain the authors would intellectually appreciate the crassness of Gaultier's Ma Dame. So what? You don't have to wear it! I doubt they're advocating that you should! They're simply evaluating its lack of pretence (good thing).
Yet suddenly the ratio of traditional press articles quadrupled with some quite original and serious and some hilarious results! Suddenly fragrance writing became big business. And although one could trace this last bit all the way back to The New York Times appointing Chandler Burr a scent critic a couple of years ago, this year's evolution has shown that starting one's own site or writing a piece for a newspaper leaves all the holes of one's semi-knowledge free for filling with fresh air. I am personally enjoying the wide selection ~when before did news circulate so quickly, as to make the new exclusive, moderately-priced Comme des Garcons sell out of stores carrying it in one day?~ that this development has given us, but I am urging you to judge with your best analytical and rational criterion while reading. (Obviously everyone has their own opinion, but not every journalist knows some facts).

Intriguing Trends I Noticed
Speaking of wishful thinking for 2009, I noticed that already 2008 brought a handful of things that raised my antennae to the direction of Interestville. Namely, the new direction for woody fragrances for women, the widening of selection of florals for men, and the ressurgence of melon notes through non-Calone [2]-using ways. A handful of genuinely intriguing trends emerged.

Woody fragrances are nothing new, but it seems that they have caught the eye of the makers of feminine fragrances: Sensuous by Estée Lauder, Magnifique for Lancome and Secret Obsession by Calvin Klein. From the predictability of the first to the hypersweet distortion-of-facts of the second and to the spicy austerity of the third (which I prefer out of the three, if pressed), I was pleased to witness a new trend coming, after what seemed like a tsunami of fruity florals and an oversimplification of modern chypres. May they continue (but with better compositions please)!

Floral touches for men took over where the pioneer marketing of Dior Homme had left: the metrosexual of 2008 is not afraid to wear his heart flower at his sleeve and go for Kenzo Power or Prada Infusion d'Homme. Then again, he can always fall back on Polo Modern Reserve by Ralph Lauren and its butch retro-machismo!

Melon and aquatic notes have been anathema for a whole (young) generation who grew up lisping "niche" and shopping at Aedes and Luckyscent with all the gusto of a card-holding dot.com progeny. Well, there's nothing like an old trend coming over for revenge and it seems like three 2008 releases are having a laugh at ou expense, admonishing us to shed our preconceptions and stop being annoyingly snobbish: Jean Claude Ellena did it first with Un Jardin Après la Mousson for Hermès and his daughter Céline followed with Sublime Balkiss for The Different Company, while Bertrand Duchaufour is continuing the laughter behind our backs with the river-like Fleur de Liane for L'artisan Parfumeur.

And then, there was Dans Tes Bras for F.Malle. Interesting to be sure.

My Coups de Foudre!
Then again there were some straight-arrow shoots who came up with things I loved immediately: a couple have even won pride of place in my ever-overspilling bottle collection! I feel for the honeyed apricots soaked in spices of El Attarine as soon as I smelled a sample. I came to love the somber, cool and warm antithesis of Serge Noire. Serge Lutens has largely redeemed himself in my eyes for the rather unoriginal latest releases of previous years. He has earned a grace period.
Chanel has also come up with a true rose-cut-like gem (Sycomore in Les Exclusifs line), a graceful if a little too pretty for its own good twin-set of a scent (Beige in Les Exclusifs) and a genuinely modern interpretation of an iconic milestone (No.5 Eau Premiere). Well done!
Suprisingly, Guerlain has produced only one modern fragrance this year that I liked in a year that was scattered with vintage acquisitions for me: Cruel Gardenia. But don't be fooled by the name, because it smells neither cruel nor gardenia-like (and I doubt they intended it to be either!). Still, this soapy prettiness has crept up on me. Don't get me started on Les Elixirs Charnels/ Carnal Elixirs though. Just don't!

Personal Growth
This year has been fulfilling on a personal level as related to my work here on Perfume Shrine and to my capacities as a fragrance writer and consultant. I have learned a lot of new things (for a constant student like myself, I have still lots of ground to cover though!), have expanded my horizons conversing with professionals who have taken an active interest in Perfume Shrine and am ready to relay my adventures with people who have a genuine passion for the art of perfumery. On top of that, in what started as a panicked attempt to salvage whatever I could out of a fragrance world that is constantly changing and rationing perfumery ingredients, thus creating a shortage in beauty, I finally managed to obtain some rare vintage collectibles which have graced my collection and have touched my historian's soul: Pour Troubler, Djedi, Fleur de Feu, Atuana, Ode, Liu (all by Guerlain, click to read reviews), Dior-Dior, Shiseido Nombre Noir, Lanvin Scandal...I am deeply thankful for the journey they have taken me on.
Last but not least, I have cemented a true rapport with my loyal readers, my guest writers and my perfume community friends and for that I am truly honoured.


Don't forget to check out what other bloggers have to say when recapping 2008 in their own words:

1000 fragrances
Ars Aromatica,
A Rose Beyond the Thames
Bittergrace Notes,
Grain de Musc,
I Smell therefore I Am,
Legerdenez,
Notes from the Ledge,
Olfactarama,
Savvy Thinker,
Smelly Blog (and her "best of" list)
The Non Blonde
and Tuilleries.

[1]approximate quote, Hegel referred to goverments.
[2]Calone is the sregistered name of a ynthetic aroma-material that dominated the 90s fragrances with its aquatic green melon note.

Public Service Announcement: Serge Lutens exclusive Santal de Mysore now in the US

Bergdorf Goodman, as well as Aedes, are now stocking the Paris exclusive Santal de Mysore by Serge Lutens and Christopher Seldrake for $200.00 a pop: the fragrance comes in the oblong 50ml/1.7oz bottles that normally carry the export line (and not the Parisian "bell" jars as depicted here) and it is the season's "gift" of an exclusive having a limited distribution on US soil
Of course dollar for dollar, the price is much more advantageous if you get it in Paris (110 euros for 75ml) and you get to sip a demi-tasse at Café Flore in the process, but I thought reporting it would send a certain frisson of excitement through Lutens' fan base anyway!
Notes for Santal de Mysore include: cumin, hot spices, styrax, balsam, Siam benzoin and sandalwood.

Personally I rather think that the meeker, creamier Santal Blanc is the better sandalwood in the Lutens line and sandalwood as a note is problematic right now anyway, because of the infamous shortage due to it being an endangered species and the subsequent restriction on harvesting.
And it would have been assuredly more interesting if they released the painfully beautiful Tubéreuse Criminelle, the naughtily spicy, densely golden fruity El Attarine or the gloriously animalistic Musc Kublai Khan that evokes intimate pleasures. But there's always next time...

Related reading on Perfume Shrine: news on the latest Serge Lutens: Nuit de Cellophane and Lutens scents reviews.

Pic through Les Salons du Palais Royal Shiseido.
Thanks to Polk/POL for the heads up!

Morning Blossom and Samurai from Profumo.it: fragrance reviews

Abdes Salaam is the Sufi name of Dominique Dubrana, a Frenchman living and working in Italy and creating all-natural perfumes that shatter every preconception you might have of what those entail. Even Luca Turin had to munch his hat his words upon the issue when he commissioned a bespoke fragrance simply tagged "Luca" (choosing rose, chamomile, carrot seed, sandalwood, tonka, benzoin and castoreum in a cunning, secret experiment to resurrect Elle, Elle by Lucien Lelong; which we surmiss was proven successful). Not to mention his being enthusiastic about others in the line in his Guide and in general ("His compositions just happen to be really good").

Two of Salaam's latest fragrances I sampled are like a breath of fresh, moist air amidst the cold, sleet and snow of winter: Morning Blossom and Samurai.

Morning Blossom is built around the noble essence rendered through steam distillation of the flowers of the Citrus aurantium tree (Seville orange or bitter orange tree) which is blossoming under the Mediterranean sun in spring: Neroli. This is the heavenly aroma that greets farmers as they begin another spring cycle and the one which puts me in a joyful, optimistic mood in the final long days of March when I gather the small white flowers to put in little glasses to aromatize the house with an uplifting dose of the coming spring. Discovered in the late 17th century and named after the princess of Nerola, in Italy, the relaxing pale yellow essence 'whose perfume, sedative and relaxing, keeps off from us all material concerns' [1] is weaving its own magic with every intake of breath.
The Morning Blossom fragrance by Profumo.it was initially developped for another line, but the deal wasn't sealed and the scent remained in the vaults of Dubrana who decided to go ahead and launch it himself. The inclusion of 25% neroli in it renders it exceptionally true to the essence with its tangier, slightly more bittersweet and thus "fresher" ambience as compared to the fruitier, smoother and overall sweeter note of orange blossom absolute. Morning Blossom develops in a sheer, gauzy way with a brightness that highlights a child-like joy at the world, yet without frivolity; instead with the slightly nostalgic wisdom of an older person in retrospect. There seems to be a garland of other floral notes of a white and non-white nature (some rose?) shooting through the greeness, a hint of the slight bitterness of petit-grain. The whole is resting atop a lightly woody base (with what I perceive as creamy sandalwood inclusion) kissed off with a discreet warmth that progresses into sweetness the more the fragrance develops on the skin.

Kare eda ni
Karasu no tomarikeri
Aki no kure.

(On a bare branch
A rook roosts:
Autumn dusk.)

~haiku by Matsuo Basho (1644-1694)

The above haiku perfectly captures the mood which Samurai produces in me.
The composition is a more "civilized" version of Salaam's Oak Moss of the "Scents of the Soul" line, a collection of fragrances he has been composing in the last 20 years, presented in chronological order. Contrary to what you might imagine it of being a Japonesque Heike Monogatari fit for a modern noble warrior, Samurai was originally conceived for the "senatori" of the Italian Parliament in Rome. I guess that could stand for "noble warriors" in the service of the noblest body of all, the people, if only politicians were noble in the ancient Greek άριστος sense of the word or they really fought for ideals and making the world a better place; but I am probably digressing. Salaam kept the formula for his private business and it is now available to anyone who has a hankering for an excellent, refined and unisex cologne that features a healthy smathering of earthy vetiver and mossy notes with a whiff of sturdy woodiness. The classical composition reminds me of the elegance of Guerlain's Vétiver with its restrained sobriety but with a thicker base. The treatment of vetiver in its modern rendition of vetiver acetate is helping fragrances smell truly "modern". One would be hard-pressed to distinguish between a high-quality niche composition and this all-natural perfume if blindfolded, exactly because there is a very contemporary sensibility about it, opening vistas of a true mergence between the two divisions within the art which I personally applaud.
Men would be a natural contender for the charms of Samurai but women who do not feel the barrier of perceived expectancies of what they should wear are welcome to its beguiling and lasting allure. Samurai is versatile much like this eulogy: "Tadanori was a great general, pre-eminent in the arts of both sword and poetry."

Very generous "samples" can be ordered in mini flacons on the Profumo.it site. The mignon bottles of 5.5ml are practical as well as cute, as they allow several wearings for anyone to fully appreciate the composition before proceeding into investing in a bigger bottle, usually available in either 16ml (about half oz), 30ml/1oz or 50ml/1.7oz. There are also ready-made packages of 8 mignons, each allowing for a diversified experience, but you can pick your own selection of 6 in a wooden box.

I will leave you with a quote of Salaam himself that I find genuinely dreamy: "A natural perfumer leaves behind himself a “sillage” like a river, he is in love with perfumes. They are a joy to his heart and sanity to his mind." [2]

Related reading on Perfume Shrine: Scents of the soul, Orange Blossom Series, Vetiver Series.

[1]P.Davis, Subtle Aromatherapy
[2]quote via Sniffapalooza magazine)

Pic of bitter orange blossom via Profumo.it. Painting of Minamoto Yoritomo from the 19th century, courtesy of geocities.com/azuchiwind

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.