The winner of the draw...

...for the Colonia Assoluta is CarrieBanana. Congratulations and please email me using Contact with your shipping data so that your prize gets in the mail for you soon.

Thanks everyone for the enthusiastic participation and till the next one!

Chasing the Demons of Perfume Marketing: a Case for the Humble Marketeer

Marketing has gained a bad rep among perfume aficionados: "It's all marketing" you hear them say with a dismissive pfft over their shoulder as they consider the tsunami of launches in just the previous year, rhapsodising all the while about the glorious past, about eras when perfumes were supposedly both classier and cheaper to purchase. The truth however is never as simplistic as all that and the demons are less malignant than thought of.

"Now it appears perfume once again stands alone again, not tied to fashion nor an entry point to a new undiscovered world. It simply is" said veteran marketeer Jeffrey Dame the other day, while discussing the rise of prices on perfume brands. He explained how price is a pillar to the marketing of a fragrance and how perfume stands as a luxury, but also aspirational good: "Price is a marketing concept, one of those four key elements drilled into us when I went to university for a marketing degree in the 1970's. "Marketing" a product was a new idea in 1977 and the field of marketing and an actual marketing degree were part of a brave new world which has not quite resulted in a better new world 35 years later. Price is key, high or low, pick your passion. Before the 1970's perfume stood by itself, a creation of the perfume house. The big change in the 1970's with designer fragrances was that perfume provided you with lower-cost access to the world of Calvin Klein, Ralph Lauren and YSL. If you couldn't afford an Oscar de la Renta dress, you could certainly stretch to purchase a piece of Oscar through his pretty perfume. The fashion was magic, and purchasing a piece of the magic through fragrance a thrill."

via coloribus.com

The status symbol of luxury brands is uncontenstably part and parcel of the high prices. "When we want to denote luxury, we increase the size or we increase the price" perfumer Jean Claude Ellena had told me on a one-to-one, explaining at the time the rationale behind the ginormous bottles introduced for some of the Hermes fragrances, but at the same time clarifying the thinking behind some of the perfume marketing going on across the board.

Some of the prices have become ridiculous, that's true. Even though there are perfumes that are decent enough to ask for very high prices, the rate of price raise is relative to the antagonism between niche key players; everyone is pricing in comparison to others' in the field. As Dame succinctly notes: "18-24 months ago the general price for high end niche was in the $150.00-$190.00 range for a 100 ml [bottle]. Nowdays, heading into holiday 2013 niche prices have risen greatly and a standard going rate is in the $225.00 - $285.00 range. Prices haven't quite doubled in the past two years, but close. This is a general guesstimate, and certainly there are many niche scents still below $200.00, but $250.00 seems to be where the heart of the niche business is". Furthermore, perfumer and niche brand owner Patricia de Nicolaï admits in a Fragrantica interview "...I have to say that some brands really exaggerate with their prices. I don’t want to denounce anyone, but offering a very expensive perfume with a lovely packaging does not always mean that this perfume will be nice." Further amunition in the dissenters' quiver? Not really.

Personally, I value marketing. Maybe it has to do with getting to know a bit of the stuff through, shall we say, personal interactions. Maybe it has to do with me being highly interested in the goings of perfume advertising from a historical point of view. Or maybe it's just that I like to be inquisitive and the devil's advocate. So let me plead a case for marketing.

Marketing doesn't have to be a brain-washing dystopian Big Brother device to work its magic. It's marketing which puts wings on perfume, providing the story which connects with the wearer and consolidates the brand. The smell alone can't really create that bond, not only because it can't be translated the same way for everyone, but also because smell is mute. As perfume maker Serge Lutens once said, "It is potentially a carrier for the imagination". Just think about it: all those romantic stories you've heard about Guerlain or Chanel or Caron etc, the twilight dusk of the "blue hour", l'heure bleue, inspiring Jacques Guerlain to create an enduring classic, Jicky being the nickname of a lover Aimé loved and lost, Mitsouko meaning "mystery" in Japanese (not so!), the Cuir de Russie perfume being inspired by Cossack boots smeared with birch, Tabac Blond an homage to flappers... all fabrications, all marketing. Their creation was much more pedestrian, if we take things factually. But they created a mythical beast which is with us still. Like in Herodotus, even if these things never happened, someone had the wisdom and the cunning to narrate them anyway....

For a product as mystifying, as undecipherable, as steeped in half-truths as perfume, selling it without the story would be akin to trying to sell hot air. The most exquisite smell in the world rests without aim if there isn't a stiring hand to propel it into the finishing line. The most divine creation needs to be communicated and communicated in the right way for the right audience at that. Good marketing works stealthily, convincing us that what we choose is "quality" or at least "a good fit", "value for money", "what we need right now". We consequently feel validated by our choice: smart, in the know, pampered, exhilarated, good about ourselves, happy. It also affords us the luxury of thinking we have free choice: this chesee instead of that cheese, this car instead of that car. But it's already cheese and car, this doesn't change. Does Coca Cola or Apple have good marketing? You bet. So does Chanel, selling not only nice perfume (well, most of the time) but also the unbridled assurance of "good taste".

Furthermore, perfume is an acquired taste. Babies don't grow being appreciative of it. It needs a certain conditioning to learn to appreciate man-made smells as "pleasant", "delicious", "enjoyable", even "life changing". Marketing helps us connect the dots, brings out specific points, making us think about something in the way that best translates the brand. This is especially crucial for artisanal brands, smaller players who have the need for a more truthful, but also highly clever marketing plot to make their presence known to those they'd best connect with and to consolidate that bond. Arguably, this force harnessing might also maim the more creative, more imaginative thinking of the individual. But to quote something I first heard on the 1st season of "Mad Men", itself a study in advertising and early marketing,"People want to be told what to do so badly, they'll listen to anyone". Cynical, but true.
So let's at least validate the marketeers who operate on a scale of imaginative honesty and creative truthfulness. All hail. They deserve as much, high prices be damned.

For those with not as long memories, I had said something along those lines back in 2007 in Lies and Misdemeanors. I had also talked about Perfume Prices back in 2007 too, in Gimmick or Innovation.

Acqua di Parma Colonia Assoluta 10th anniversary Editione Speciale 2013: fragrance review & free perfume bottle givaway

Husks of cardamom, crashed and fragrant, in my pocket. A window opening up to a vista of green pines overlooking the Mediterranean azure blue under the crisp but smiling sun of noon. The scent of clean linen dried in the fresh air in the breeze and the human warmth of a worn wool sweater approaching. Zesty citrus as when you scrap a bitter orange with your nails. Scattered writings on the desk, unfinished phrases, small notes of random thoughts. Pencil shavings in an ashtray, abandonded and lonely. A beautiful stem of jasmine cut and browning by the hour. Safety. Serenity. Solace.

When in 2003 the formidable collaboration of perfumers Jean Claude Ellena and Bertrand Duchaufour came up with the original Colonia Assoluta for Acqua di Parma the feat wasn't announced with fanfare. But now that the classical Cologne has re-emerged from the attic as the eternal sine qua non of Southern European elegance and proper grooming, when totally modern spins on this time-honored genre, such as GS03 (Biehl Parfumkunstwerke), as well as more traditional ones, like Chanel Eau de Cologne, draw our attention, rediscovering this refined gem in a gorgeous presentation for its 10th anniversary is occasion for rejoicing.

Acqua di Parma assures us that more than ten ingredients are of a natural origin in their Colonia Assoluta: Calabrian bergamot, red orange, orange blossom, jasmine, lavender, rosemary, Virginia cedar and sandalwood. Less citrusy than the original Colonia, more emphatically aromatic and mossier, the way Cartier Declaration is mossy under the cardamom cool spiciness, Colonia Assoluta is everything I picture a graceful man (or a woman who loves using shared fragrances) of my culture wearing.

The bottle design for the Colonia Assoluta 10th anniversary isn't just random: This special edition decorated with graphic signs is inspired by the moving spokes of a bicycle. The original pattern was designed by Acqua di Parma to convey the contemporary feel of this particular Eau de Cologne and its users, modern men around town, atop their bicycle. The original motif is reproduced in the bottle and case with the spokes stretching across the surface in silver hues, the distinctive colour of Colonia Assoluta. It is through a special craft that the spokes are engraved on the glass surface in order to create light and dark contrasts serving as an elegant expression of the sophisticated scent itself. Light contrasts keep changing with every motion of the large sized 180ml bottle, offered in the refillable version to last in time. 

Notes for Acqua di Parma Colonia Assoluta:
Top: bergamot, bitter orange, sweet orange and lemon verbena
Heart: jasmine, vetiver, ylang-ylang, cedar, cardamom, pink pepper and paprika
Base: patchouli, oakmoss, white musk, sandalwood and resins

Please note this isn't the first special edition for Colonia Assoluta: there is also Editione Riviera (2007), Editione Speciale 2011 and Colonia Assoluta in Villa (2009). This 10th anniversary edition is code-named Colonia Assoluta Editione Speciale 2013.

To make this 180ml/6oz bottle you see in the picture yours, please post a comment saying whether you bicycle or not (and why) and if you have any favorite associations with bicycles. Mine will forever be Ladri di Biciclette by Vittorio de Sica.
Draw is open internationally till Sunday 10th October midnight and the winner will be announced on Monday.

Puredistance Black: fragrance review

Fermented prunes, cognac in oak barrels and handfuls of woolen knits folded into camphoraceous tissue paper that emits that borderline vibe between poison and medicine. Shadows growing longer and longer as the passage of the sun on the horizon wanes; lacquered furniture glowing in the flick of tallow candlelight; crayon designs fatty and saturated hanging off the walls depicting strange faces of old Asian men. There's a certain oiliness and smokiness about Puredistance Black, the upcoming perfume launch by the niche company founded in Vienna, Austria,, adorning it with the striking bone structure of a silent film icon, when shadow and light played the game of drawing the eye across a never ending vista of possibilities; even the slightest tremor of facial muscles gained reinforced nuance in this medium. Or to quote Lydia in Beetlejuice: "Well, I've read through that handbook for the recently deceased. It says: 'live people ignore the strange and unusual'. I, myself, am strange and unusual."

via latino-review.com

Puredistance has wisely limited its aromatic outpour to one fragrance per year (or even less frequently) choosing to differentiate itself from the many niche brands who dilute their essence in too many simultaneous launches. It has also set the bar pretty high with their stupendous masculine M fragrance and their graceful I and Opardu perfume for women, so expectations are understandably high for their newest release. Black doesn't disappoint, especially since it fills a void in the line that we hadn't realized was there. It's different enough from the leathery and attention-grabbing M fragrance with its elegant 1960s character, and projects as something darker, untamed by the ways of the civilized world. The concentration of 25% essence in Black certainly guarantees a rich experience, however the concept of a whispering scent is adhered to most faithfully; the secrets of Puredistance Black are revealed very slowly, discreetly, from mouth to ear rather than on speakers, a feat by perfumer Antoine Lie (famous for the infamous Secretions Magnifiques and many Etat Libre d'Orange fragrances, among others), given the intensity of the raw materials.

The company doesn't give away any of those raw materials. I absolutely love this; it will make reading and hearing impressions by those who will subsequently test Puredistance Black a real treat, as the mind often interferes with what the nose perceives. Mine is attacked by a quasi-brutal opening with a tangy citric fruitiness allied to the darkest, earthiest patchouli possible, like snails coming out of the bush in the dusk, but the cloak of the night soon mollifies it with a woody cluster of honeyed plummy-cedar notes reminiscent of the Lutens canon and a "suede" orientalism. The sweet melange is also reminiscent of pipe tobacco, laced with a boozy aftertaste that lingers. (I hypothesize smoky cypriol/cyperus and vetiver should be featured too). Chewy, a meat course for non vegetarians.

The essence of the concept for Black by Puredistance was to create a perfume that is close to the wearer and releases sensual and elegant scent layers in a whispering way—without shouting. A mysterious fragrance that stays in the shadow, giving away —only every now and then—part of its nature. Perfumer Antoine Lie loved the concept presented by founder Jan Ewoud Vos and created a sophisticated perfume full of charm with the same elegant personality as the timeless classic Puredistance I, but then more masculine and oriental.

via shootxmylife

If I were to offer a comparative assessment, even though the press material does coach me not to analyze too much, I'd say Puredistance Black reminds me of the darkness and weirdness factor of Goutal's Un Parfum Cheri, par Camille, fueled by an intense Indonesian patchouli grade replete with all its earthy chocolate and darkness "dirty" facets. But whereas this shadowy woody chypre flopped for Goutal, alienating the regular customer who hankered after delicate florals resting atop angels' wings, Puredistance has the cojones to follow through on the sheer sparsity and clarity of their line: there is no "definitive" demographic for Puredistance (yet) and this plays to the company's advantage.  Black would be also liked by those who appreciate Borneo 1834 and Bois de Violette or by oudh and tobacco fragrances fans, as the bittersweet oriental feel would appeal. Although marketed as a masculine, in many ways it's what Coco Noir might have been (a scent marketed to modern women who shun florals and sweet gourmands). Minor gripe about the name (thingamagick) as we have discussed before, but one can't deny its evocative powers.

According to Puredistance, Black is created in Paris by the famous French perfumer Antoine Lie and it will be available from December 2013 in 17.5, 60 and 100 ml flacons.

In the interests of disclosure I was sent a sample vial by the company pre-release.

Weather-Beaten Awakenings: Let it Go

"You must have brought the bad weather with you,
the sky’s the colour of lead,
all you’ve left me was a feather
on an unmade bed”
~It’s Over, Tom Waits

The thunder came crushing down like release from heavens last night. The humidity and the city's torpor of the last few days came to an abrupt end. The foliage, dripping wet and cleansed, as if a giant rubber had erased all dust off it, shone with a newly found brilliance this morning. Mitsouko eau de toilette (with one drop of parfum extrait on the hollow of my neck) wafted off my cleavage in spicy puffs of selfish enjoyment.

How neatly arranged that the demarcation falls on the first calendar day of the month of October; almost as if the skies were conspiring or rather scheduling things with the precision of a conscientious housekeeper. It's official; autumn has started and with it the glorious melancholy that the promise of decline is giving us each year at this time. The moment when nature is rubbing its weary eyes a bit, starts yawning soon to plunge into a short nap. Hypnos (sleep) was the mythological brother of Thanatos and I'm reminded of this little fact as I see the fallen blossoms, yesterday still so orange red, today trampled underfoot in the muddy pools on the ivory pavement, a dark rotting mulch.

Mitsouko by Guerlain, my default rainy-weather-perfume, has often been linked to a certain wistfulness, seeing as it's inspired by a novel concerning cross-starred lovers. But I'm convinced there's something more to it than just mental associations, especially since raindrops make me exceedingly happy, as they're not incessant on these latitudes. As I savor the mowed grass freshly fragrant in the air by the scent of geosmin mixed with chlorophylle rising up, I sense anew that certain aspects of the fragrance are enhanced; its mossiness, its cinnamon-clove kick, its citric tang, its fiery heart torn by unspeakable passions...Although Mitsouko is also customarily linked to glamor, to me it will always remain an introspective affair, something to keep like a secret that puts a smile on your face no one knows anything about.

I'm reprising a ritual and this small tradition aids me more effortlessly slide into the slots of this giant machine of which we're all bolts and wheels in the end. Vaille que vaille...

And how about you? Do you have specific fragrances you wear in rainy weather?