Improving our Sense of Smell: a Little Wiring

"A new study reveals for the first time that activating the brain's visual cortex with a small amount of electrical stimulation actually improves our sense of smell. The finding published in the Journal of Neuroscience by researchers at the Montreal Neurological Institute and Hospital -- The Neuro, McGill University and the Monell Chemical Senses Center, Philadelphia, revises our understanding of the complex biology of the senses in the brain."

From the full article Open your eyes and smell the roses: Activating the visual cortex improves our sense of smell

Annick Goutal Nuit Etoilee: new fragrance

When I was pairing Van Gogh's famous painting Nuit Etoilée with my review of Annick Goutal's idiosyncratic Eau du Fier the other day, I must have been in daydreamig mode. The mind does tend to work this way*. But it was possibly more than just subliminal.

I had received information that the next fragrance by the French brand (seeking wider distribution currently at the Middle East as per Brigitte Taitinger, after succesfully solving problems with the American distribution) is also called Nuit Etoilée, you see.

Nuit Étoilée is a new unisex scent offered by the Annick Goutal fragrance line; a fresh, aromatic spicy-woody scent in blue-tinged bottles for him and for her (the scent is abslutely the same in both declinations, much like with all the rest of the line). The perfume was inspired by the wildness of nature and the coolness of dusk.  This nightfall, this starry night began out of an image Camille had stored at the little laboratory the French brand has in Paris: "La nuit étoilée" de JF. Millet (1855) on a postcard that had been lurking under the papers for two or three years, hence the bluish tint of the flacon. Isabelle Doyen, the perfumer, believes this is how things work: You're inquisitive, you see things, you absorb them and then they come out in your work, almost by chance. Nuit Étoilée by parfums Annick Goutal is fresh with hints of sweetness as well as peppermint accents on the top while unfolding woodier aspects upon drying down.

The upcoming Nuit Étoilée by parfums Annick Goutal will launch in April 2012

*The name also immediately reminds me of Baccarat's one-time fragrance edition Une Nuit Étoilée au Bengal.

Amouage Library Collection Opus VI: new fragrance

Another Amouage opus to follow Opus I, Opus II, Opus III, Opus IV and Opus V. Yes, you guessed it, the 6th is called Opus VI. 
The composition is an ambery woody oriental, but with a totally modern twist on the amber base that only retains the cistus labdanum from the traditional, times & again honoured amber accord to expand it on aroma synthetics with an ambery profile, such as Ambranum and Z11.

The notes for Amouage Library Collection Opus VI include:
top: Sichuan pepper, incense, pimenta racemosa (bay rum/bois d'Inde)
heart: Periploca graeca, patchouli, cypriol (nagarmotha or Cyperus scariosus)
base: Ambre accord made of ambranum, Z11 & cistus labdanum, as well as sandalwood.

The new Amouage is set to launch in March 2012.

pic via nisha.pl

Viktor & Rolf Spicebomb: fragrance review

I sometimes wonder what would happen if the art of fragrance naming is asked to be, as the French would put it, en clair―to speak in plain language.

     ~by guest writer AlbertCAN

I am by no means chiding the mass launches, for niche brands wax lyrical, too. (Case in point: Serge Lutens Daim Blond ought to be Daim Abricot.) Viktor & Rolf’s latest masculine introduction, Spicebomb, could benefit from en clair. To spell out its proper name would probably look a great deal like this:

Une ‘grenade’ ambrée à la manière de Tom Ford Tobacco Vanille avec un peu de L’Artisan Parfumeur Tea for Two

(An amber ‘grenade’ in the style of Tom Ford Tobacco Vanille with a little bit of L’Artisan Parfumeur Tea for Two)

Of course, the ironic thing with the truthful title above is that a copyright infringement lawsuit would probably ensue, followed by the requisite injunctions and appeals. And how to fit the sentence above onto the bottle is beyond mysterious to me. So, no in a million years. Yet it is probably the most apt description of the scent one could find, for the similarities between the scents in question are uncanny.

Now one might notice that that I’ve put quotation marks on the word ‘grenade’, for although the campaign promises something explosive and daring Spicebomb is hardly so. In fact the bomb motif is really a hand-me-down from V&R popular franchise Flowerbomb (2005), more of tie-in for marketing integration purposes. It’s a handsome tobacco-infused amber dandy with a fair hint of spice, but hardly a bomb threat as suggested by model Sean O’Pry’s tease with the grenade safety pin.

The resemblance between Spicebomb and Tobacco Vanille is truly remarkable, although I wouldn’t call them Siamese twins. V&R Spicebomb opens with candied citruses—or so I call them since synthetic bergamot and grapefruit are tempered further with fruity pink peppers, giving the scent a suave, silken sheen. It’s on the sweet side, though short of the full-on dried-fruit effect found in Tom Ford’s opus. The bouquet is really ho-hum and plays second fiddle to the tobacco accord, which really asserts its dominance after a short introduction. The press-release lists the tobacco as the base note but it really acts front and centre like a heart note since the scent is so character driven, forming a very obvious alliance with vetiver and amber. Knowing Spicebomb’s creator, Olivier Polge, I would bet my money on the liberal use of ambroxan (and even some tonka bean) when forming the amber—and indeed that amber motif is evident in Dior Homme, another creation by O. Polge. The leather and elemi are there, too, although really upholsterings to create subtle dried fruit facets. On the other hand I would say Tobacco Vanille lacks the spicy edge, though it’s hardly a surprise when the name is Spicebomb—what comes with the subtle spice is the real surprise.

Tea is nowhere to be found in Spicebomb’s press release, but the smokiness found in L’Artisan Parfumeur Tea for Two (2000) is fairly evident in the drydown of Spicebomb. It’s by no mean literal, for there’s nothing transparent or soft about V&R, but the spiciness is there—a touch, really—once its presence is felt. To me it isn’t the main attraction, just there to keep things in good social order.

Thus given all the information above Spicebomb is an interesting breed: Considering V&R license is owned by L'Oréal, one of the more conservative cosmetic conglomerates out there, having a mass-market launch based on two niche offerings—with Tea for Tea being discontinued to boot—Spicebomb is a slick take on past creations, almost like a ready-to-wear referencing a Tom Ford couture. Yet does it really take a perfumer of Olivier Polge’s calibre to do such faithful reference? I honestly don’t have an answer to that, and I might have gotten a bottle if: 1) I didn’t have a small bottle of Tom Ford Tobacco Vanille, which I have, and 2) If the bottle for Spicebomb were more sleek, as the tinted bottle looks a bit clumsy in person. Mind you, if I were given a small bottle I wouldn’t mind wearing it from time to time.* But I’m probably not detonating Spicebomb anytime soon.

Viktor & Rolf Spicebomb is created by perfumer Olivier Polge and contain notes of bergamot, grapefruit, elemi, pink pepper, cinnamon, saffron, chilli, leather, tobacco and vetiver. The bottle is designed by Fabien Baron. My review is based on a free sample I received from a sales associate at The Bay, who was horrified by me using Dior Eau Sauvage and promptly quipped, “It’s really for old men, no?” (Thank goodness I’m not buying anything from her.)

*Read: This is not a hint. Do not consider buying me this as a present: and I’m not being ironic.

Serge Lutens L'Eau Froide: fragrance review & draw

Inhale the icy ringing air coming from the thundra filling your lungs. Feel the chill of cold water in a silver-tiled pool where you anticipated warmth. Remember the surprising burning sensation on your tongue upon munching an ice cube against the hardness of adamantine. Feel the wet, clean feel of stones in a brook. And imagine a kiss from dead lips...
If De Profundis aimed to capture the scent of death, the cold tentacles of a serene end to all can be felt in L'Eau Froide, from the pristine white-lined coffin to earth's cool embrace. I personally find this philosophical attitude to mortality very peaceful and cleasing to the mind.

Icy, you say? 
The bottle and the box of L'eau Froide are inscribed with iterations of coldness...cold, icy cold, frosted, transparent, crystalline, calm, ice salt, large glass of water...

Cold? Yes, it is. But very pleasantly so.

I'm a firm believer in the cooling properties of unadulterated frankincense, the kind at the heart of L'Eau Froide, which I burn regularly: After all, the raw material shares terpenic, citrusy top notes in itself, which dissipate and volatilise quickly rendering that cool smoky ambience we associate with stone temples of old. But amongst fumeheads of northern latitudes, removed from the warmth & sun of the Mediterranean where frankincense use flourished, ‘frosty’ and ‘glacial’ are not adjectives we tend to associate with incense (rather pyrocaustic is, although on Perfume Shrine we have devoted a whole series to different   varieties and  nuances of incense fragrances). Nor is the association of niche orientals ~where incense notes are the bread & butter of perfumers fast becoming rock stars. But frankincense/olibanum, the par excellence incense note, is indeed cool: it can become very smoky and dense when in high concentration, but the more you dilute it the more it gains lemony, fresh facets that inspire deep breathing, the cleansing kind.

Serge’s press upon this newest fragrance is probably what matters anyway: ‘People only notice the pyrogen facet in smoky incense burners… but not the coolness, except for the church’s."

Inspirations
Before we jump into conclusions in how the maestro is doing atypical work, fandom-alienating possibly as in his first L'Eau,  let's remember, Serge Lutens is no stranger to cool incense in his impressive line already: Encens & Lavande takes on the ashen facets of lavender-nuanced smoke, while Serge Noire is the spicy, warm & cool contrast of meditation. Nor is he a stranger to gothic coldness itself: from the "Girl with the Dragon Tattoo" hard-as-nails menthol blast opening in Tubereuse Criminelle, to the perverse aloofness of Bas de Soie and the lavender-tinged greyness of Gris Clair, all the way to the bluish, dead lips of Iris Silver Mist... L'Eau Froide comes as the natural evolution of spermatic ideas in all these fragrances: the herbaceous top note that cools the sinuses, the chilling dampness, the resinous incense, the clean underbelly...

But we could be short-sighted if we didn't consider fragrances with a semblance outside the Lutens seraglio too: What L'Eau Froide reminds me most of is one of my favourite summer incense waters: Passage d'Enfer, composed by Olivia Giacobetti for L'Artisan Parfumeur. I must have gone through crates of it...
The terpenic, bright side of Somalian frankincense (reminiscent of crushed pine needles) is given prominence in Passage d'Enfer, much like in the Lutens 'eau' which unfolds the terpenes after a fresh mint start; this exhibits a hint of pepperiness (could it be elemi, another resin?) giving a trigeminal nerve twist. The effect is dry and very clean indeed (but unlike the screechy aldehydic soapiness & ironing starch of the first L'Eau), with a lemony, bitter orange rind note that projects as resinous rather than fruity and a projection and sillage that are surprising for something so ghostly, so ethereal, so evanescent.

It's the scrubbing mitt of a monastery in the southern coastline, rather than the standard aquatic full of dihydromyrcenol and Calone coming out of the cubicle in an urban farm. Still this aesthetic is something with which the average perfumista hasn't come to terms with yet; it will probably take a whole generation to reconcile perfumephiles with "clean" after the horros that have befallen them in the vogue for non-perfume-perfumes in the last 20 years. I'm hopeful. After all being a perfumista means challenging your horizons, right?
The little human warmth in the deep drydown of the new Lutens comes from the refined, vegetal musks that hide in Voyage d'Hermès or Goutal's Musk Nomade (ambrette seed); eschewing too sweet and powdery for a slightly bitter, metallic edge reminiscent of the iron in blood. The whole projects with a mineral quality, like cool peebles at the foot of a lemon tree.

Who will like L'Eau Froide and who will not

Incense accolytes who appreciate the monastic qualities of Tauer's Incense Extrême, the coolness & pine of Zagorsk and the white lily whiteness of Passage d'Enfer are the prime target of L'Eau Froide.
So are those who like Eau de Gentiane Blanche and Voyage d'Hermès. I think L'Eau Froide will be more popular with men than with women who view this dry mineral facet as emasculating.
The cool customers of Chanel No.19 (especially the eau de toilette which is rich in vetiver) and Paco Rabanne's Calandre, as well as YSL Rive Gauche for women, might also be satisfied with the silvery sheen of this Lutens fragrance. If on the other hand you prefer for your incense fix the densely oriental mixes like Caron's Parfum Sacré, the rich balsamic formulae like Ormonde Jayne Tolu, and the sophisticated smoky warmth of Hotel Costes, you would be totally disappointed. Then  again you might be an omnivore, like me.
It's of note that no comparison can be effectively made with Etro's Messe de Minuit: Whereas the Etro is a chameleon, smelling in varying degrees of warm or cool according to your GPS positioning when wearing it, the Lutens is a la la la constant tune that doesn't waver much. 

Will I wear it? 
I was somewhat confused with last year's Lutens De Profundis and Vitriol d'Oeillet. Though arguably not the height of originality, I see myself dousing myself with L'Eau Froide each time I want to feel that chill on the small of my back that denotes either solace from a heatwave Med-style, or the exciting but safe thrill of peeking within the crypt when demons are hiding low on a snowy winter's day.

L’Eau Froide, a clear eau de parfum concentration of fragrance sees his previous L'Eau Serge Lutens joined by a similar-looking bottle. (1.7oz/50ml and 3.4 oz./100ml, 69 and 100 euros respectively at select doors stocking Lutens fragrances from March 2012).

For our readers an advance sample sprayer is offered. Please tell us your incense memories, if you have any. 
Draw is open till Sunday 26th midnight.

pic of the Dead Sea via english.al-akhbar.com