Perfumes and Fur part 2

Relating fragrances to the warm, cozy but also intimately erotic connotations of furs is a task almost too enjoyable to be entirely legal. Some of those fragrances had even originally been thought of in relation to fur wearing which puts them all the more so in the vintage zone of a modern consumer’s consciousness, accompanied by a pang of nostalgia for things one has not even lived through.
The aristocratic aura they exuded makes them the decadent assortiment that a modern woman can reappreciate with eyes anew, cut off from their luxuriant aspirations and focusing on the richness and muskiness of their juice. But the creation process hasn’t been easy. Drom fragrances perfumer Pierre-Constantin Gueros is the son of a Parisian furrier, struggling to come to terms with how to translate his memories into scent: “The smell of the factory and smell of the different leathers and fur—that’s really something I think I will remember all my life,” he says. “And when I say leather, I mean there are so many different leathers. Sometimes I’m frustrated because we don’t have the raw materials to translate this leathery aspect. It’s sensual, but not really animalic. It’s textural—like silk, like wool. It’s very difficult to translate that into perfumes. You have the smell in your head, but translating it is very complicated.” [1] Fur in itself is a material which holds fragrance extremely well (although it’s strongly discouraged by the best furriers in the field to protect the pelts), often for generations which manage to make a simple hand-me-down the object of adoration and an infinite memory capsule.

Some of the old creators had no special qualms and went along on instinct. Jeanne Lanvin, the classic milliner most famous for her enduring Arpège, was responsible for commitioning in 1924 a rare marvel that was alas discontinued in 1988; a perfume eminently suitable to and evocative of vintage fur wearing. My Sin (Mon Péché in French), a sensuous, unapologetic beauty was created by André Fraysse of Firmenich in collaboration with the mysterious Madame Zed, an obscure personage of Russian extraction that remains a mystery in the history of perfumery. Supposedly resulting after no less than 17 unsuccessful perfumes [2] from her laboratory in Nanterre, My Sin proved that a sinful name and a classy, yet daring smell, was all it was required in the roaring Twenties.Its synergy of heliotrope and aldehydes gives a powderiness that is simpatico to both the romantic floral heart and the animalic musky-woody base of musk, civet and sandalwood, conspiring in giving an aura of silent but powerful distinction.

However Parfums Weil is the most characteristic example of fur perfumes, being the perfumery offshoot of Parisien furrier, Les Fourrures Weil (Weil Furs), established in 1927. Furriers since 1912, well before they became purveyors of fine fragrance, the venture of the founder Alfred and his brothers Marcel and Jacques into perfume resulted from the direct request of a client for a fragrance suitable to fur wearing. Weil obligingly capitulated to the request and produced scents that would guarantee not to harm the fur itself, yet mask the unwelcome musty tonality that fur coats can accumulate after a while. The names are quite literal: Zibeline (sable), Ermine (hermine), Chinchila, Une Fleur pour Fourrure (A Flower for Furs)...
The very first of those was an expansive floral chypre, conveived as an evocation of the oak forests and steppes of imperial Russia and appropriately named after the animal there captured: Zibeline, the highest quality in furs for its legendary silky touch, its scarcity value and light weight. Zibeline belonged to the original fragrant trio line-up that launched the business of Perfumes Weil. Introduced in 1928, Zibeline was comissioned by Marcel Weil and composed by Claude Fraysee assisted by his perfumer daughter, Jacqueline. (The Fraysee clan is famous for working in perfumery: His two sons, André and Hybert were to work with Lanvin and Synarome respectively and the son of André, Richard, is today head perfumer at parfums Caron)
Zibeline was released in Eau de Toilette in 1930 but the formulations came and went with subtle differences and their history is quite interesting. First there was Zibeline, then the company issued Secret de Venus bath and body oils product line which incorporated Zibeline among their other fragrances (a line most popular in the US) while later they reverted to plain Zibeline again. The Eau versions of Secret de Venus Zibeline are lighter, with less density while the bath/body oil form approximates the spicy-musky tonalities of the Zibeline extrait de parfum, with the latter being more animalistic. The older versions of parfum were indeed buttery and very skanky, deliciously civet-laden with the fruit and floral elements more of an afterthought and around the 1950s the batches gained an incredible spicy touch to exalt that quality. Later versions of Zibeline from the 70s and 80s attained a more powdery orange blossom honeyness backed up by fruit coupled with the kiss of tonka and sandalwood, only hinting at the muskiness that was so prevalent in previous incarnations, thus resulting in a nostalgic memento of a bygone epoch that seems tamer than it had actually been.
Marcel Weil's death in 1933 did not stop expanding their perfumery endeavours; they added several other perfumes: Bambou, Cassandra and Noir.The Weil family was forced out of France by Hitler, so they re-established themselves in New York from where one of the first perfumes released was Zibeline with the quite different in character chypré Antilope being issued in 1945, upon return to Paris in 1946 when they also introduced Padisha. Sadly the multiple changing of hands resulted in the languishing of the firm by the 1980s and although the brand Weil has been in ownership of Interparfums (Aroli Aromes Ligeriens) since 2002 Parfums Weil is largely unsung and long due for a resurgence.

The smooth dark fur of a living animal –for a change- was the inspiration behind one of the most elusive vintage fragrances: Mouche by Rochas from 1947, created by none other than Edmond Roudnitska who worked for several of the Rochas thoroughbreds (Femme, Moustache, Rose, Mouselline). Marcel Rochas had a cat, named Mouche, which means “fly” in French and the idea to name a fragrance after his cat was both fun and original.
The scent came in the same amphora bottle shape as Rochas’ first creation, Femme, designed by Marc Lalique, but with the outer box with the lacy interlay shaded in turquoise rather than grey. Unfortunately Mouche was all too briefly on the scene: It got discontinued in 1962 and remains a rare collectible.

Lots of other perfumes have been linked to the opulence of fur from lynx, ermine and chinchilla to otter, shearling and karakul. Some of the most characteristic is the demi-chypre/demi-floral 1000 by Patou whose refinement, disconcerting and mysterious complexity render it a difficult but intriguing proposition; or the old version of Piguet’s Baghari, which was quite different and more daring than the more demure aldehydic re-issued. Or think of the words of actress and model Camilla Rutherford reminiscing of her mother: “My mother used to wear fur. Her scent was Cabotine by Gres, and sometimes First by Van Cleef & Arpels, and it would cling to her coat. I remember when she was going out, my sister and I would be pawing her because of the softness of her mink and the scents that came from it.” [3]
But even the most unlikely fragrances can have the most surrealistic connotations implicating fur and its mystique. In one such case of free association, Diorella has been linked to “a new fur coat that has been rubbed with a very creamy mint toothpaste. Not gel. Paste.” [4] Nor are modern fragrances excluded from this wonderful game of synesthesia between touch and smell, between silkiness and swooning. Dzing! composed by Olivia Giacobetti for L’artisan Parfumeur, encapsulates the circus in a bottle with its odours of the great cats, the sawdust in the ring, the leather whip and the cardboard partitions; a wonder which would evoke soft fur even in the absence of it and the perfect accompaniment of a man or a woman on a crisp morning. Muscs Koublaï Khän by Serge Lutens has a silky radiance, warm with the intensity of living beings effortlessly appointed the quintessential parfum fourrure for modern explorers into the terrain of carnal pleasures. And Miller Harris composed L’air de Rien for Jane Birkin (and all of us eventually, as attested by our opinions) to evoke her brother’s hair and her father's pipe, resulting in an animalistic, fantastically ripe and alluring oakmoss and musks blend that would have Guerlain wishing they had come up with such an avant-garde yet also strangely retro composition.
Fur perfumes will continue to hold their fascination for every perfume lover who has been leafing through sepia-tinged old photos with a sigh of unuttered contemplation.

Related reading on Perfume Shrine: Perfume and Furs part 1

[1]Perfumer & Flavorist March 2007
[2]Between 1924-1925, the house of Lanvin House launched NIV NAL, IRISE, KARA - DJENOUN (commemorating an Egyptian journey ), LE SILLON, Apres Sport (all of those were discontinued in 1926), CHYPRE, COMME-CI COMME-CA, LAJEA, J'EN RAFFOLE, LA DOGARESSE, OU FLEURIT L’ORANGER (discontinued in 1940), GERANIUM D’ESPAGNE (discontinued in 1962), friction JEANNE LANVIN, CROSS-COUNTRY, and MON PECHE/MY SIN (discontinued in 1988). (source: Tout en Parfum)
[3]Interview in the Dailymail.co.uk
[4]The Face Aug.2005

Vincent Price and Coral Browne photo by Helmut Newton. My Sin and Mouche ads through Ebay. Mouche bottle via Musee de Grasse. Zibeline bottle pic via cyberattic.com

Perfume and Fur part 1

Upon relating perfume-wearing to winter it’s natural to think of fragrances as warm and enveloping as a fur coat of the softest mink or the whitest sable. Sultry, luxurious and rich in slowly-evolving notes, those fragrances are rivaling the opulence of furs and their superior warming properties.
There is a fascinating term for down-and-dirty in French: "parfum de fourrure" (par-fehm –de-fou-reeh-rr or click here to hear how "fourrure" is pronounced), which means “fur perfume”, to denote not a fragrance meant to be literally used on fur coats (as fur gets dried by alcohol and is sensitive to several materials anyway), but rather a perfume to be worn when donning a luxurious fur coat, usually in the evening amidst smart company. Natural fur has a catty odour, which can become rather musty when turned into a coat that’s stored in the closet, and this necessitated the use of scents that would help “mask” this problem. In fact Claude Fraysee, the creator of fragrances for parfums Weil, celebrated furriers to begin with, was said to have created “parfums furrure” specifically at the request of a client. But we will revert to that later.

The sociological implications of furs are not to be sidetracked when considering this particular olfactory vogue which flourished in the beginnings of the 20th century, well before PETA and animal-rights-movement. In regions where extreme temperatures necessitated fur-wearing for months on end, such as Canada and Russia, fur-producing countries, that aspect was minimal. In Russia specifically fur does not hold a great implication of luxury, as even the poor wear it –albeit in poorer quality incarnations-to escape the cold. This is perhaps the sanest use of fur devoid of any aspirational nuances. In other parts of the Northern hemisphere however furs emerged as an emblem of luxury, ever since antiquity. They became especially prized since the Romanov dynasty’s decline and the subsequent stories of princess Anastasia escaping in the West (finally put to rest after the DNA examination that proved she was part of the Bolsheviks’ shootings) which fueled the imagination of millions. Numerous are the literature texts in which a mysterious lady with a Russian accent, decked in furs and art-deco jewels, is referenced. The baroque style of the Russian court who was in close diplomatic contact with the French gave rise to a vogue for fur coats and stoles; particularly welcome covering the by now naked shoulders of women in 20s filmsy charleston-dresses or 30s evening gowns that left them all too cold for comfort.
But fur was also heavily eroticized starting with Leopold von Sacher Masoch’s “Venus in Furs”, in which fur performs the role of exalting his heroine’s, Wanda von Dunajew, almost supernatural façade and is then copiously referenced in the Berlin cabaret scene and classic film noirs.

And who can forget Charles Baudelaire when in Un Fantôme II Le Parfum (from "Les Fleurs du Mal") he rhapsodised another kind of fur, much more intimate and impolite, almost untranslateable ~the odor di femina, the musky smell of a woman's sex:

Reader, have you at times inhaled
With rapture and slow greediness
That grain of incense which pervades a church,
Or the inveterate musk of a sachet?
Profound, magical charm, with which the past,
Restored to life, makes us inebriate!
Thus the lover from an adored body
Plucks memory's exquisite flower.
From her tresses, heavy and elastic,
Living sachet, censer for the bedroom,
A wild and savage odor rose,
And from her clothes, of muslin or velvet,
All redolent of her youth's purity,
There emanated the odor of fur.

~translation fleursdumal.org

In the 1970s, silver fox was de rigeur in advertisements and VIP pics accompanying the Glamazons of the era. Fur coats ~stoles especially, as they are so much easier to wear and more dramatic to use~ became standard luxury evening-wear to the point that designer Ciara Bonni declared them in the early 90s a cliché ~the most expected garment to wear over an evening gown and therefore not chic.The animal rights movement in subsequent years has attached a stigma to fur-wearing, an act of vanity ~which it so often is. Although “ecological” man-made fur is proposed as an alternative, the truth is they do not feel in the least as soft and on top of that their fibres are made from materials that do not disintegrate fast enough, rendering them ~ironically enough~ quite unecological. Still, fur-wearing is laden with some well-deserved guilt nowadays for ethical reasons, even if it involves vintage pieces which are the only ones I would use myself. Nevertheless it has been making a quiet come-back in fashion for quite some time. But the above small history of fur proves it wasn’t so when perfumes were specifically built to compliment it!

The naturally catty odour of fur lent itself effortlessly to perfumes which are rich in animal ingredients such as castoreum (often used to render leather hide notes), musk and especially civet. Natural civet comes through the impolite secretions of a small animal’s perineal glands, produced spontaneously and amassed in a process not harmful to the animal, although surely quite irritating! The advent of animalic notes after years of demure Victorian floral waters was coinciding with the vogue of the roaring Twenties for everything forbidden, dangerous and dark. It wasn’t since before L’ Empire (the years of Napoleonic reign) that musk had been popular and after more than a century past, it was the perfect occasion for its return. The success of opulent, somnobulent Orientals such as Tabu and Shalimar paved the way for braver and “dirtier” escapes in fragrances. Fur perfumes had been born!

To be continued..... Perfume and Fur part 2

Pics: "Pola woman" and Charlotte Rampling photography by Helmut Newton. Carolina Herrera in furs by her mother, designer Carolina Herrera. Theda Bara the Vamp via seraphicpress.com

Silences by Jacomo: fragrance review

If one could liquidify a handful of Pre-Columbian emeralds of crystal-clear luster into a brewing potion of intense aloofness and exceptional grace, Silences by Jacomo would undoubtedly result. Or imagine catching the cool, bracing moments of air just after a torrent thunderstorm in a tangled green garden when the earth is still humid and electrified. In music scores those "rests" denoting periods of silence account for building tension, the tension felt before a flamboyant burst of the whole orchestra. The overall musical effect of Silences is comparatively akin to getting a pre-emptive glimpse of the slow, indeed silent passage of winter into a blossoming, riotous spring.

Launched in 1978 Silences was created for "the refined woman who knows how to combine fragrance and elegance, and for the mature woman wishing to add a great perfume to her social evenings and superbe attire". The noble lineage can be traced to the archetypal intense green, Balmain's Vent Vert by Germain Cellier, but also the intense dark green that makes the formula of Bandit eau de parfum so uncharacteristically verdant. The galbanum central accord that makes the vintage Vent Vert so achingly fresh is the razor-sharp cut that appears as a vibrant influence in such great green classics as Chanel No.19 , Givenchy III and Alliage by Lauder, with a passing wink to Sisley's Eau de Campagne and Lauder's more chypré progeny, Private Collection, as well. The early and mid-70s was historically a time of intense turmoil in the women's movement which brought about emancipated chypres and intense greens that were eschewing typical polite, ladylike aldehydic florals or the long forgotten seductive wiles of sultry orientals; those latter ones would come back with a vengeance however just about when Silences was introduced and would manage to knock it off its pedestral thanks to groundbreaking commercial success of Opium. Thus Silences was left in oblivion and remains a well-kept secret that deserves to be discovered anew.

Jacomo's Silences begins its intensly green, bitter adventure via the magic of galbanum and hyacinth, and progresses to fresh-cut floral mid-notes with touches of metallic: green jasmine (hedione), rose and lily of the valley (muguet), which hint at the delights of the coming of spring amidst the coolness of wintertime. Silences dries down to a mild, powdery base full of the synergy of warm woods and mossy lichens. Whereas Chanel No.19 counterpoints the richly iris-laden heart with a leathery accent and prominent vetiver in the base, Silences is warmed through the fanning of precious woods and is even drier. The powdery, arid sensation that is left on drydown lasts on the skin for hours and can become quite seductive by itself; if not to others around you, certainly to yourself!

A perfume friend, Maria of Bittergrace Notes, parallels it to "A romantic tryst in an untended garden, as imagined by a nun" in her notorious one-sentence reviews. "Still dewdrop in blend, she cascades without being too shrill" is how fragrance expert Marian Bendeth describes it. Luca Turin had described it in his defunct French 1994 guide as an unpretencious tapering silhouette of cut flower stems, even urging men to try a smidge of it in the morning if they're daring enough.
It is rather unfortunate that those bitter green fragrances with a mossy face powder effect have gone out of fashion for quite some time, thus making a sophisticated marvel like Silences seem out of synch with our current culture worshiping at the altar of hypersweet, nevertheless for those who want to give it a go I find that it has its own share of perverse sexiness.

Although the original comes in a black smooth, crescent bottle in a dark box with iridescence, there has been a new addition, the newer Silences Purple which is more of a sunny white floral in an identical bottle in purple with a matching box in purple iridiscence. The packaging for the classic however appears in two versions as well: the older, un-reformulated one is greyer with the name appearing once, while the newer packaging has the name appearing repeteadly over the box.

Notes for Jacomo Silences:
One set of notes states:
Top: Galbanum, Green Note, Bergamot, Lemon, Orange Blossom .
Middle: Orris, Rose, Muguet, Hyacinth, Jasmin.
Bottom: Moss, Cedarwood, Sandal, Musk .

The current set of notes on the Jacomo site states:
Top: Narcissus absolute, Iris from Florence, Rose, Blackcurrant absolute, Galbanum
Heart: Calendula, Bulgarian rose, Lily of the valley
Bottom: Oak moss, Ambrette, Sandalwood, Vetyver

Jacomo Silences comes in Eau de Parfum concentration and is available on Jacomo's official site and some online stores for very modest prices.

Photo of Jacomo Silences bottle © by Helg/Perfumeshrine.
"The Spanish Inquisition" emerald necklace pictured, is now in the Smithsonian in Washington, DC, and was once owned by Harry Winston. (Photo: Dane Penland/Smithsonian via palagems.com)

Diptyque expands with L'art du Soin into Sensuous Voyages

One of the first "niche" houses, Diptyque was founded in 1961 by three friends into design who opened their first boutique in boulevard Saint Germain in Paris. Thanks to their candles (available since 1963) and their fragrances (available since 1968), Diptyque has known a growth that seemed unprecedented for such a small project and they have created a dedicated following for those who are in the know. It was indicated to me when I first began being interested in alternative lines that there was this "secret" little brand that had been issuing cult scents in Paris and that everyone who was anyone would travel to get some of them. This was before the niche "craziness" that erupted in the late 90s and the 2000s. Another source had intimated that Lauren Bacall was making an annual pilgrimage every December to buy her Christmas candles from them. Marisa Berenson, the 70s style icon finds there the "haute couture in candles" while Philip Stark "the most Proustian fragrances". It was enough to convince me and Philosykos, a fragrance that captures perfectly the smell of a Greek, hot, dusty fig-tree in late August, sealed the deal for good and opened the door for many other things to follow.
Now, after a business takeover in 2005 by private equity fund, Manzanita Capital who nevertheless kept Yves Coueslant and Christiane Gautrot, the two remaining living founders, involved, Diptyque has seriously spread its wings into a new realm: Cutting back some of their stock, adding other products and now expanding with their L'art du Soin into the aromatic body skincare, a segment that was missing.
The new line is the equivalent of a scented voyage to the Mediterranean and each of the five products corresponds to a different entourage around the old, beloved mare nostrum.
The creamy gel for bath and shower is inspired by Alep, the city of authentic, old-fashioned soap, and is redolent of the olive oil and laurel smells that so often form the aromatic basis of good, handmade soaps.
The body milk is refreshing, perfumed by the joyful orange blossom which takes us to Alexandria, an oasis ante portas of the scorching desert.
The rich body cream is an illusionary trip to Byzantium, voluptuous, decadent and oriental and ready to spoil us with the luxurious (and expensive) argan oil, honey and rosewater.
The hand balm is a virtual trip to Cordoba where the apricot trees are laden with blossoms and it utilises the rich oil of apricot, karite butter and argan oil to nourish, repair and soften hands that take care of everything.
Last, but not least, the bath and body oil is an homage to the parfumers et gantiers of Florence, where the gloves of the aristocracy were fragranced with iris essence. The delicate and elegant scent has been added to a mixture of nourishing macademia nut oil, argan oil and sweet almond oil.
All the scents co-ordinate with each other and can be layered at will.

But perhaps the most interesting part is that they are devoid of aluminum, synthetic colourants and sulphates derived from petrochemicals, making the green movement we had discussed when talking about the Honoré des Prés fragrances a while ago all the more Parisian and fashion-savvy.
With Mediterranean inspiration behind them, I can't wait to try them out!

Available from March '09.

Pic via Jalougallery

Insolence Eau Glacee: another new flanker by Guerlain

Guerlain is certainly busy this spring! After La Petite Robe Noire, launching this February, two limited edition bottles for Shalimar, Shalimar Flower/Fleurs de Shalimar for March and an aqueous interpretation for the classic peachy chypre Mitsouko in the upcoming Mitsouko Fleur de Lotus coming this April, another flanker joins the line: Insolence Eau Glacée. The name is echoing another version of the well-known and beloved classic Vétiver by Guerlain, Vétiver Eau Glacée.

The new version Insolence Eau Glacée promises: "Tasty and fresh aromas of green apple sorbet and luminous citruses which give a feeling of ultimate refreshment. Joyful and encouraging accords of red berries tingle your imagination with luxurious and elegant iris flowers, resting on velvety and gentle violet petals. Accentuated freshness in this composition arouses all senses and affects your emotions and good mood directly". Available from March 2009 in 50ml bottles in the same design as the original Insolence. (via press release)

The Insolence brand is comprised of 5 editions so far, including the upcoming one. In chronological order they are: Insolence eau de toilette (2006), My Insolence eau de toilette (2007), Insolence Shimmering edition (2007), Insolence Eau de Parfum (2008) and the new Insolence Eau Glacée (March 2009).

*Sigh* We'll see...