Just the other day I was saying how my rumours of more than two years ago were slowly materialising one by one. No need to gloat or repeat myself, just a confirmation that reportage goes a long way and things take an extremely slow route when getting changed: Santal Blanc, a former Lutens export fragrance is becoming a Parisian exclusive in the bell jars. (there's still some stock on the oblong export bottles, so grab those if your life depends on it). It's official folks, stop denying it. And yes, I know one needs a compass and a guide to make way out of the changing policies of the Lutens line. *sigh*
You know what follows right? (Don't say I didn't give you ample warning)
The info originated from a newsletter email from a personal shopper on Ebay, who assures that availability of the scent is sustainable in France (and the rest of Europe I surmiss, wherever the Hermessences perfumes are available of course). This does taint the news a bit beyond the 100% certified, but phonecalls to the NYC Hermès boutique seem to confirm there are no bottles left right now. A quick check on the US Hermes site also indicates there's no Ambre Narguilé to be sold, though there is some on other international official pages. This latter evidence isn't conclusive nevertheless, as in the past whenever there was some shortage of supply, there was an occasional dissapearence of something from the pages. But all combined, they do pose a weird situation.
Given that Ambre Narguilé has been a steady best-seller in the Hermessences (especially in America) from day one and that the cut-off of distribution seems regional rather than pandemic for the moment, it does present its own little puzzle: It can't be IFRA ingredients restrictions, as that would mean a global cease on production, not just a localised one (plus it would make sense there would be first a European shortage and only later a US one, not the reverse). It can't be a distribution problem, as Hermès is itself responsible for that and what goes for one would go for all. It can't be low sales, because....well, you know that ain't it.
Plus, a tantalising detail for those who are meticulous: If you go to the US Hermes site and try to fill a gift box with all four travel bottles of Ambre Narguilé, then lo and behold, it lets you do it and the item goes into your shopping basket, no questions asked.
Bottom line: Something smells fishy; I smell a false rumour.
This is howthe delicious Ambre Narguilé fragrance is officially described:
"Amber honey with swirls of smoke from the East. Savory, sensual, enveloping.
"Amber, the Western expression of Eastern fragrances, has a warm, enveloping, almost carnal smell. I wanted to imbue this idea of amber with the memory of the East I love where tobacco - blended with the smells of fruit, honey and spices - is smoked in narguilés, or water pipes, and where swirls of smoke diffuse a sweet sense of intoxication.
Be sure to click on the little icon under the JCE quote on the UK official page to hear the perfumer talk about it and to hear it pronounced properly in French.
For those in the US who are desperate to get their Ambre Narguilé fix, in the meantime, you can appease yourselves with -if not an exact dupe, then a close alternative- Spicebomb by Viktor & Rolf.
The ink has barely dried on the reviews on Madonna's first celebrity fragrance, Truth or Dare, and the famous singer is taunting us with hints of an upcoming release that will involve the gentlemen this time around. Will this new venture involve raiding the liquor cabinet? You'll be the judge after reading some of her comments on the issue and about her daughter Lourdes's preferences in fragrances.
“I think it would be good to do a men’s fragrance, as well,” the pop star revealed to WWD, clarifying it took her 15 years to reach a point where she felt what she wanted could be met for her first eponymous scent. “My daughter thinks so. She wants to wear it. She likes to wear men’s cologne —don’t ask me why.
"I love musk and amber and woody kind of fragrances on men. I love the smell of whiskey —we should make a men’s cologne that smells like whiskey. I can’t drink it, it’s too strong, but it smells amazing —a really good old whiskey.”
James Ivory has long been considered the most "British" of American directors, at least going by his Ismail Merchant collaboration (usually with Ruth Prawer Jhabvala in screenwriting/adaptation), which has produced such delicate cinematic gems as Room with a View, The Remains of the Day and Howard's End. In 2003's Le Divorce, however, he tries his hand on the old cultural war between Les Americains et les Français, instead, based on a novel by Diane Johnson. A weak link in Ivory's formidable record, mainly due to an indecision as to what his main focus will be, the film nevertheless produces interesting and subtle little snippets of the cultural and ideological chasm between the two nations in high style and an all-star cast.
Kate Hudson as Isabel Walker is an American film school dropout who jets off to Paris when her pregnant step-sister Roxy (played by Naomi Watts) is abandoned by her French husband. Soon, Isabel has a scandal of her own when she falls for an older French man, Edgar Cosset, who's related to Roxy's cheating husband and is a far-right politician. Totally out of her waters, the nubile, originally hippyish Isabel lets herself be metamorphosized into a chic butterfly, through the sophistication-adding tricks of a bob cut, soigné makeup, co-ordinated wardrobe, an Hermès red Kelly 28 bag given to her as a gift (really, a stand-alone character in the film, a status symbol prop made into powerful allusion), intimate trysts following elaborate four-course meals, and racy lingerie brought for the sheer pleasure of getting out of it.
There all sorts of clichés too, accounting to French character assasination, mainly involving cheating Frenchmen, conservative French women, manners & propriety above essence and a contrasting augmented sense of sincerity on the part of Americans as opposed to the Europeans, which involve a pleiad of secondary characters (but true stars, such as Glen Close, Stockard Channing, French legend Leslie Caron, Jean Marc Barr, Matthew Modine etc). If you have been to Paris, it's also a trip down memory lane, as besides the Louvre and the final, downspiral kerfuffle at the Eiffel Tower, you will recognize beautiful Parisian locales such as Cafe de Flore and Le Georges.
But the most characteristic scene in Le Divorce~well, for us fumenerds noticing such details anyway~ takes place when Isabel's older French lover hands her down a secret erotic recipe in bed, telling her to drink it before lovemaking to make the love juices smell fragrant: "That's something you would never have found out in Santa Barbara!" he tells her naughtily (You just want to bitch slap him, that's how smugly he delivers the line!).
A stereotype though it might sound, as liberated and sexually free the American woman is, catering for her lover's pleasure in such a subtle way is not considered the norm. This special tisane symbolizes a favour to the male, a preparation in anticipation of erotic ecstacy, a foregone conclusion, a subjugation of the feminist to the concubine, recalling how Chinese concubines were feddeer musk so as to make their bodies exude fragrant fumes from every pore when stroked by their lovers...
Of course there are hundreds of erotic recipes for potions, ointments, unguents and powders to enhance the sexual act. The recipe in Le Divorce involves a special tisane, brewed of mint leaves in orange and rosewater, sipped before the sexual act. The herbs and essences chosen are not random: Apart from their health benefits and aromatic properties, imparting a delicious fragrant steam when sipping, they balance the hormones and open the mind for the pleasure of the senses. Mint is easy on the stomach and excellent for steadying the nerves and for nausea. Rose hips are the seed pods left behind when the rose blossoms fade in autumn. Their sweet and sour tonality is very enjoyable in tisanes, giving a refined, feminine taste. Coupled with orange, coming from the peeled rind of the orange fruit itself, the taste is sweet and bracing, balancing the other ingredients and providing a sensual rounding.
This is an easy recipe to make by yourself, adjusting the ratio of plants to suit your own taste. Just peel a ripe orange, boil the rind with some mint leaves (or a mint teabag) and a rosehips tea bag and you're good to go! After all, in the movie the exact measurements are pointedly never given and there is a sense of received irony when Isabel asks for exact directions as to when to drink and how much. Like French seduction, spontaneity goes further than a pre-planned go-by-the-book approach...
Among the arcane fragrant mixes in existence, be it from antiquity or from more recent years, Olea Sancta (holy oil) is perhaps the most wide-spread and yet most elusive. This is the name given to what is commonly refered to among Orthodox Christians as "holy myhro" (though it's intricately more complex than simple myrrh, as you will see below); the scented oil used for the consecration of the Holy Chrism*, an annointing ritual of particular importance in the Orthodox Church as it is believed that the fragrant oil imparts the gifts of the Holy Spirit upon the converts, following baptism. As the Orthodox Easter is drawing closer and the heavy-toll, mourning sounds of the church bells outside my windows is resounding on Good Friday, I am reminded of the ritual of the manufacturing of Olea Sancta which takes place during the Holy Week at the Ecumenical Patriarchate in Istanbul, roughly every ten years. But Olea Sancta has ancient uses beyond catechism: it was used for the coronation of Orthodox kings and emperors and during establishing new churches, sprinkled on the Holy Abode. And it's also used (in heavy dilution alas, as I can attest) on Holy Wednesday, when people gather at the church to hear the liturgy and partake in the "ιερό ευχέλαιο" and be reminded of the unknown woman who bathed Jesus's feet and scented him with spikenard from an alabaster...The mystagogy during this ritual, with the lamenting sounds of the Byzantine tradition sung in the distance, is hair-raising.
This year is one when the "holy myro" was prepared once again and indeed the Olea Sancta εψήθη/ was "cooked" in the Fanari neighbourhood, in the courtyard of the Patriarchate under a specially designed canopy, which prompted this posting of mine. The preparation of the Chrism in the Patriarchate is carried out by the college of the Kosmētores Myrepsoí (Κοσμήτορες Μυρεψοί, "Deans Perfumers"), presided by the Árchōn Myrepsós, the "Lord Perfumer". The incumbent Archon Myrepsos is biochemist Prodromos Thanasoglou.
The materials going into the manufacture of the Holy Chrism comprise ancient herbs, exotic peels and essential oils, of which the most important is Bulgarian rose absolute provided by the Orthodox Church of Bulgaria.The components of Olea Sancta with different variations and additions appear in catalogs from as far back as the 8th century AD until the late 19th century. The inspiration comes from the description by Moses in the book of Exodus and the holy anointment oil began being manufactured crudely in the 2nd century AD. Initially the ingredients were 13, as named in a Berber Code from the 8th century. In 1951, during the tenure of Athinagoras Ecumenical Patriarch, the recipe was established as including 57 ingredients, each with its own mystical, symbolic use.
The full recipe of Olea Sancta reads like a journey into the fragrant products of the Mediterranean and the Indian peninsula: extra virgin olive oil, wine, orange blossom water, cinnamon, iris rhizome, Chios mastic resin, bay leaves, Bulgarian rose absolute, angelica, marjoram (σάψιχο), lavender, nutmeg, citrus peel, cloves, rosemary, myrrh resin, elemi, labdanum, cassia, turpentine, styrax, oud (ξυλοβάλσαμο), cyperus, μυροβάλανος (a dried drupe fruit from India which exudes a myrrh-like aroma), black pepper, ginger, myrtle, spikenard (i.e. Nardostachys jatamansi), and valerian root (also called Indian leaves). Also used is natural deer musk, the animal secretion from the gland of the male deer, procured many decades ago, and natural ambergris.
The "epsisis"(maceration) is just as intricate: it begins on Good Monday morning after Mass, when the basic ingredients of Chrism are sanctified during a special sequence, headed by the Ecumenical Patriarch. The sprinkling with holy water boilers, utensils and materials are sprinkled with holy water. Double and triple candlesticks are lit, illuminating each of the five boilers. The fire is fanned on wood coming from disfigured old icons only. Reading continues from bishops and priests who alternate at regular intervals.
The procedure follows the same standard layout on Holy Tuesday and Holy Wednesday, when the Oil now clear, is poured into a large silver urns, silver in small containers, as well as alabaster, then transferred to the Patriarchal Chapel of St. Andrew . From there on the morning of Holy Thursday the procession moves to the Patriarchal Church where 24 priests hold the 12 jars and 35 bishops hold silver and alabaster vessels while the patriarch who holds a silver bowl. During the liturgy the Chrism is consecrated. From then on, the Olea Sancta is ready to be safekept in the Myrofylakio, the "myro safe keeping" special reserve at the Patriarchate.
This fragrant tradition bears the mystery of old with every drop deposited on the forehead and the palms of the hands, remininding us that scent and man have travelled together through the eons.
*It is similar to one of the three oils used in the Catholic tradition, but there it is prepared with just balsam instead [the Catholic holy oils include Oil of the Sick ("Oleum Infirmorum") Oil of Chrism ("Sanctum Chrisma"), and Oil of Catechumens( "Oleum Catechumenorum"), of which only Chrism is scented, the rest being simply sanctioned olive oil]
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