We all know the drill, as perpetuated on the perfume counter: After a series of enthusiastic spritzing of every conceivable fragrance on the shelf our nose registers .....nothing. (This can also be an effect of too much of a specific class of aromachemicals in fine fragrance, for which you can refer to the linked article). So what have the shops come up with to counteract that nasal tiredness? They devised a technique of fighting boredom of the nasal passages with an aroma so strong and different that the jolting sensation would recalibrate our ability to smell: coffee beans. Freshly roasted, dark and aromatically pungent. Does the trick work? Usually not so well, in our experience. But now scientific research backs this claim up.
Do without the perfume-counter coffee beans, say Beloit College researchers
Beloit, Wis. – In an effort to offer shoppers a nasal palate cleanser (and presumably, to sell more fragrances), department store perfume counters have long been topped with small jars of coffee beans. As it turns out, they shouldn’t be. New research published by a Beloit College* professor and two of her students suggests that the beans are no more useful than sniffing the air when it comes to clearing the nose.
In a recently published report titled “An Exploratory Investigation of Coffee and Lemon Scents and Odor Identification,” psychology professor Alexis Grosofsky and two Beloit students, Margaret L. Haupert (class of 2011) and Schyler W. Versteeg (’12), put this common practice to the test using four widely available fragrances (Babe, Confess, Prettiest and Tempt Me). After several months of work they found that, “Coffee beans and lemon seem to have no special refreshing properties.”
“Fragrance sellers,” they suggest, “may wish to reconsider the practice of providing coffee beans to their customers.”
The research is outlined in the latest edition of Perceptual and Motor Skills, a peer-reviewed bimonthly research journal. Read the full article online.
*Beloit College, founded in 1846, is Wisconsin’s oldest college. Hailed as one of a handful of “Colleges That Change Lives” by former New York Times education editor Loren Pope, Beloit draws students from 48 U.S. states and 40 countries to its residential campus along the Rock River in downtown Beloit, Wis. Learn more at www.beloit.edu.
Beware of the celebrity endorsement; it might get you in trouble hunting for rare, long lost treasures to the detriment of your wallet: The first time I became seriously intriguied by Inouï was upon reading an interview of Greek singer Anna Vissi, more than a dozen years ago, declaring her longing for a bottle of this discontinued Shiseido scent: "If anyone still got a bottle, I'm paying double for it". Makes a girl move earth and sky to find some, doesn't it! Inoui, or rather Inouï with the requisite umlaut, launched by Shiseido in 1976 and quickly vanished from the market in the late 1980s, its quirky name meaning unprecedented in the sense of stunningly gorgeous.
Stunningly gorgeous it might not be exactly, as I reserve this characterisation for truly seminal fragrances or those which exhibit a daring concordance of vision and orchestration, but the drops resting on my collarbone speak of its beauty in no uncertain terms: Inouï prettifies everything it touches, even though it belongs to the old-school austere, cool greens of the ilk of Chanel No.19, Alliage, Diorella, Calèche and Shiseido's own Koto which are crepuscularly silver, rarely breaking a smile, surely alien ~ in the letter of the law~ to my own warm-blooded, passionate Mediterranean nature.
There is nothing really warm or conventionally seductive about Inouï , the bitter galbanum resin and chilled alοof florals giving a Brechtian detachment, a sort of stoic Britannic phlegm even on the face of the gravest tragedy; or maybe -more plausibly- it's just the Japanese aesthetic of keeping one's cool and always appearing composed. At the time Shiseido was not yet in collaboration with Serge Lutens, the maestro who would bring Gallic passion to the Eastern refinement with Nombre Noir and all the rest of their collaborative opus, and suppposedly the company was meaning to break up with their oriental tradition at the same time, hence the name of the fragrance one would assume:
'An international product developed by the joint efforts of Shiseido staff in Japan, the U.S. and Italy, Inoui was introduced in 1976. Under the sales theme of the “New Working Woman,” the image was of a new woman with a cosmopolitan mind. She lived a beautiful lifestyle of jazz dance, yoga, jogging and other new activities of the time, while easily handling her work as well. “It's not her beauty. It's her lifestyle.” clearly expresses the concept behind the product.'
Thus ran the official blurb on the fragrance on the US site.Somehow it doesn't sound very fetching to me. I can think of better things. But times have changed; back then "modern" woman apparently dreamed about the "beautiful lifestyle of jazz dance, yoga, jogging and other new activities, while easily handling her work as well".
Yet history disproves this assertion of breaking with tradition: Saso and Myth of Saso, other Shiseido rarities, are unusual and unpliable with no "lifestyle" concept behind them, yet roughly contemporaries. But for every Saso there's a Koto; easy, breezy, refreshingly cool for active lives, so Shiseido is obviously consciously catering to a multitude of women and respective markets. Later on, the Japanese company launched a make-up line by the same name (and the follow-up, Inoui ID) which was put into stunning visuals by Lutens himself, the choreographing of the models an exercise in cobra mesmerising human eyes.
Inouï is a fragrance which, underneath the crashed stems and sap, lives and breathes in human form and yes, warms up somewhat with an exquisite jasmine heart, halfway between birth and rot, flanked by the pungent accent of herbal thyme, like a seasoned woman who knows what she wants and what she's capable of. This is why it feels at a crossroads between floral chypre and green floral; but Inoui is friendlier than angular No.19 by Chanel, soapier and sweeter than Alliage by Lauder and less BCBG than HermèsCalèche. It's so pretty, deep and undemanding that it poses a mystery on why it got axed so soon! Then again, might we recall the dire straits of Paco Rabanne's Calandre; who knew such an easy, loveable fragrance would become hard to get!
The opening accord in Shiseido Inouï is sap-like, crushed greens with a hint of soapy aldehydes and at the same time reminiscent of the lemon-peach top chord of classic Diorella: fresh, but registered an octave below, mossier. Soon the warmth of ripe jasmine anchors the peachy lactonic notes and gives oomph, fleshing the sketch of the greens and deepening the feminine impression. The impression of green floral sustains itself cuddled by a lightly mysterious base, like that in Y by Yves Saint Laurent, deepening as time passes, mingled perfectly in one unified chord, while its murmur is only audible to those who come close by.
Vintage batches (the only kind, really, since Inoui is long discontinued) crop up sometimes online, for really huge prices somewhat unjustifiably. Those which retain a fresh, green floral and a tad soapy note have kept well. If your catch smells sour, you've been out of luck: the perfume deteriorated through the years. There is an eau de parfum version and an extrait de parfum in sparse, architectural bottles, both worthy additions to a distinguished perfume collection.
Notes for Shiseido Inoui :
Top: Galbanum, Peach, Juniper, Lemon, Green Accord
Heart: Pine Needles, Freesia, Thyme, Jasmin
Base: Cedarwood, Myrrh, Musk, Civet, Oakmoss
Since it's such a rarity, one sample out of my own personal stash goes out to one lucky reader. Please comment on what appeals to this genre to qualify.
"Kalokairi...The blue peer will bring you...Kalokairi [...]Wet mouth, lean loins, kalokairi. With a slice of watermelon on one hand, with half-melted kisses, with some slices stuck on the kitchen knife...Kalokairi[...] An odour of the death chamber...Kalokairi...With Hades's burn on the hand, its longing wandering in the world...".
What's your most vivid summery memory having to do with the senses? I will check back when I return from my (alas short) trip.
Song Kalokairi (Summer) by Greek songwriter Dionysis Savvopoulos
Καλοκαίρι η γαλάζια προκυμαία θα σε φέρει καλοκαίρι καρεκλάκια, πετονιές μέσ' το πανέρι μες τη βόλτα αυτού του κόσμου που μας ξέρει καλοκαίρι πλάι στα μέγαρα, στις τέντες με τ' αγέρι καλοκαίρι με χρυσούς ανεμιστήρες μεταφέρει την βανίλια με το δίσκο του στο χέρι την κοψιά μιας προτομής μέσ' το παρτέρι καλοκαίρι μ' ανοιχτό πουκαμισάκι στα ίδια μέρη
Καλοκαίρι με μισόκλειστες τις γρίλιες μεσημέρι καλοκαίρι καθρεφτάκια και μια θάλασσα που τρέμει στο ταβάνι και τους γύψους μεσημέρι καλοκαίρι με τον κούκο μέσ' τα πεύκα και στ' αμπέλι καλοκαίρι στόμα υγρό, μικροί λαγώνες, καλοκαίρι με τη φέτα το καρπούζι στο ‘να χέρι με φιλιά μισολιωμένα, καλοκαίρι καλοκαίρι λίγες φλούδες στης κουζίνας το μαχαίρι
Καλοκαίρι του σκυμμένου θεριστή του τυφλοχέρη καλοκαίρι με βαριά μοτοσικλέτα μες τα σκέλη τους φακούς του ανάβει μέρα μεσημέρι καλοκαίρι όλο πίσσα και κατράμι καλοκαίρι καλοκαίρι με τον ρόγχο του air condition μεσημέρι φαλακροί μέσ' τις σακούλες μας σαν γέροι εκεινού με τ' άσπρο κράνος που μας ξέρει καλοκαίρι μια οσμή νεκροθαλάμου, καλοκαίρι
Καλοκαίρι στην αρχή σαν έγχρωμο έργο στην Ταγγέρη αλλά εν τέλει με του κάτω κόσμου το έγκαυμα στο χέρι την λαχτάρα του στον κόσμο περιφέρει καλοκαίρι στον χαμό του οδηγημένο και το ξέρει καλοκαίρι τόσο ώριμο που πέφτοντας προσφέρει μια πλημμύρα των καρπών, στάρι και μέλι στον σπασμό του το απόλυτο το αστέρι καλοκαίρι μες τα κόκκινα της δύσης του ανατέλλει
The name would bring to mind a safari in the African savannah, even though not spelled "antelope", but that is decidely not my image of Antilope by Parfums Weil, a fine fragrance by the well-known fourrier company. Still, even though launched by a fur house, Antilope is not a parfum fourrure, at least in the fetishistic sense of the term.
Let’s see: Antilopein its vintage version (the fragrance launched in 1946) is a floral aldehyde chypre that begins old-fashioned , dry and powdery , with a top note of pure flowers smelt at a mountain top like Ma Griffe. But hey, this is a chalet in the French Alps we are talking about and the effect is decidedly elegant and sophisticated , not natural. The house of Weil has an illustrious history of bringing out fragrances which speak of luxury, exotic hides, glorious landscapes of fantasy and glamour.
Think Capucine or Claudia Cardinale decked in Yves Saint Laurent on the slopes and at the chalets of Cortina (hey! Italian mountain , a technicality….) in "The Pink Panther", the first movie in the series in 1963. Picture Claudia sprawled on a tiger fur rug batting her lashes seductively and a little drunkendly at David Niven telling him about the “frasari…safrari…wild animal hunt” her father took her to. Then a fruity/herby note appears , like humble chamomiles. Sweet and innocent for a moment. Claudia will pass out from champagne before any carnal promiscuity. The fragrance ends with moss and wood, not distant, but elegant like in a reverie.
Very dry. Chic. French. Or not-so French. But of that attitude…….Maybe it's just the clothes and the setting, maybe it's Antilope.
Notes for Weil Antilope:
Top: neroli, bergamot and aldehydes
Heart: clary sage, rose, lily of the valley, jasmine, carnation, iris and violet
Base: sandalwood, vetiver, patchouli, tonka, amber, oakmoss and musk.
The vintage Antilope is assuredly richer and more nuanced than the reissued, sharper and more sanitized floral version. Excellent in Eau de Cologne and Parfum de Toilette (depicted).
If you like Madame Rochas or Caleche and wished they had a rougher texture than ever prim gentleness; or love the bitterness and swag of Cabochard and the "fresh" clarity of Ma Griffe, but find them too harsh to wear; Antilope is a great middle-ground.
A documentary series by the BBC Two called "Filthy Cities" tackles two of the most infamously "stinky" of European cities from the past (today they're not so fragrant either): Paris and London. A history lesson and some olfactory adventurous research as well, guided by historian Dan Snow with some impressive CGI scenes. The London episode is presented in its entirety below.
And if you think you could brave it, watch a poor human specimen test on camera the scratch & sniff cards for the show, available in any library in the UK courtesy of the BBC.
In many ways reminiscent of the atmosphere of "Perfume, Story of a Murderer", only this is no fiction....
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