When the well-trodden becomes anew there is reason for joy. If certain white flowers have always seem unatainable to you, if you found yourself avoiding tuberose for reasons too complicated to unfold, all naturals indie brand Anya's Garden has two aces up her sleeves:
Moondance and
Starflower, two unconventional new fragrances that ~in typical Anya style~ will surprise you!
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In the words of Anya McCoy in
Moondance "water mint is underfoot as you dance among the violets and tuberose, as apple herb and roses sing softly".
The ethereal touch of violets opens with a
trompe l'oeil touch of the mint: is it there or isn't it? "This is not the direction toothpaste is going", I said to myself, when testing, as the familiar cold-on-a-hot-tongue feeling of industrial-strength fake mint didn't register. Yet, prompted by my desire to locate it, after reading the notes, I paid more attention and it is there if very subtly: But how strange! It only maxes out the dryad feeling of the woody-orris violets into cool green pistas! Herbal scents are difficult to harness, because they seem to project at a frequency that registers them either in the culinary (lamb chops roast) or the marginally aromatherapeutic: think tisanes and hot compresses. Yet, in
Moondance the chamomille reminds one of nothing of the sort. Instead it fuses with the Rose de Mai absolute and the natural alpha ionone isolates (i.e.violet) into a synergistic ritual dance in the forest under, you guessed it, a full moon. Tuberose only hints at its presence, if you're not specifically searching for it, you might not realise that it is delicately weaved in here: its bombastic nature is well-behaved for once, like a loud, overactive child who is mesmerised briefly by the shooting stars into silence, as furry animals watch from a distance (Anya used hyrax tincture and hyrax absolute to render this fuzzy animalic comfort blanket). The general ambience is not unlike Isabel Doyen's creation for Les Nez
The Unicorn Spell (which is similarly unisex) and lovers of the latter should definitely give a try to
Moondance! My only gripe would be its relatively short lasting power, which means that you could use it on a scarf or ~even better~ a leather band on your wrist (How utterly charming! Why should Kurkdjian have all the fun?)
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If your tastes do not run into the timid, but you're set for no-limits throttle, full-on speed, then
Starflower is more your thing, and by Jove, ain't it mine! Anya McCoy presents floral gourmand
Starflower as "candy flower, dreamy and steamy, almond cherry, chocolate and tuberose bring Mexico to you". A Mexican delicasy doesn't even begin to describe it, as luscious chocolate, allied to beautiful, slightly camphoraceous but oh-so-good-it-hurts patchouli (and possibly a maple touch) tempt the taste buds before the nostrils claim all the pleasure. There is nothing of the sanitised patchouli that mainstream brands churn out by the bucketload aiming at the fatigued nose-velcro of urbanites burned out on the
Angel-doused armpits of commuters. This is the spirited love affair of rich essences which do not succumb but to the skillful hands of a certain Miami shores artisanal perfumer. The result in
Starflower is oddly animalic, deep, incredibly lasting for an all-naturals perfume, and somewhat buttyric: Indeed a CO2 butter essence is hiding under the narcotically-scented tuberose (rendered into her edible vestige, posing for a screen-test with
Marcolini and melting into a pool of cream). Anya reveals: "I first became aware of its use in ice cream from an 18th Century book
Encarnación's Kitchen: Mexican Recipes from Nineteenth-Century California, and further research showed its use in other sweet desserts. My perfume musings got me to thinking, well, let's see how it would pair with vanilla and chocolate, two other tasty and fragrant offerings from Mexico." I can only say that
Starflower should come with a cautionary label attached: "Restrain application or you're seriously risking at having your arms (or other body parts) nibbled on!"
A small precaution if I may would be to sample Moondance before indulging in Starflower, so as not to suffocate the more ethereal into the more full-bodied, much as one would do when tasting wines of different attributes, and cork-off them for a couple of minutes before sniffing (as all-naturals are famous for being too intense to fully grasp at first).
Moondance and Starflower are available from Anya's Garden, in parfum extrait ($75 and $60) and an Eau de Parfum ($125 and $100) or $5 per sample.
Anya had the generosity of sending me
two ample samples of the expensive scents for a lucky reader, along with those I sampled for reviewing. Enter a comment if you want to be in the drawing!
Related reading on Perfume Shrine: Natural scents and perfumers, Tuberose scentsPainting The Fairy Lovers by Theodore von Holst via touch of vaudeville. Women of Mexico Girclee print via fashionfling.blogspot.com.
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Hermes presents it as "A voyage in a bottle. Perfume and wind know no barriers: they travel freely through air and over sea. In Calèche Fleurs de Méditerranée, a warm breeze glides over the Mediterranean basin, delicately grazing the fragile white stars of Egyptian jasmine, rustling the skirts of the Turkish damascena rose, stroking the sunbathed blooms of Moroccan mimosa. Calèche, so characteristically elegant, so undeniably classic, reaffirms its femininity with Egyptian jasmine and Turkish rose. The Soie de Parfum of Calèche Fleurs de Méditerranée plays with a daring hint of violet leaf, giving an invigorating tartness to its initially light, fruity scent. Joyously enlivened by a fresh breath of mimosa, it incarnates a youthful fragility, a distinctly contemporary clarity rounded to perfection by a gentle touch of heliotrope and beeswax – an echo of the powdery, honey-sweet note of mimosa absolute'.
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