Valentine's Day Special: The Scent of Unrequited or Impossible Love (Valentine's Countdown part 5)

"And the stars, and the cars, and the bars, and the barmen" [1]

"Love never dies a natural death. It dies because we don't know how to replenish its source. It dies of blindness and errors and betrayals. It dies of illness and wounds; it dies of weariness, of wirtherings, of tarnishings."[2]

via etsy

So often we focus on Valentine's Day as the occasion when one MUST be coupled to participate in the holiday or when one should at the very least have a romantic interest at the ready if they're single. Obviously some are happily married (such as The Non Blonde) or happily single (such as Chemist in a Bottle) with whom I organized a small joint project; they have their own anecdotes to share.
Poor me I reverted this year to that pool of endless discoveries: literature and specifically two cases of unrequited or impossible love.

One of them revolves around the impossibility of the love of the nymphet, of a "Lolita", in Vladimir Nabovok's famous and stylistically memorable novel of the same name. Indeed one can hardly call it a love story, tragic or otherwise. Although possibly everything must have been written around this lyrical tome and its "poetics of betrayal" ~and the issue of pedophilia is arising again in public consciousness due to the recent allegations (re)thrown at Woody Allen's face decades later~ one of the aspects that hasn't been quite explored yet is the insistence of the emigre writer on the scented aspect of Humbert's unrequited, obsessive (and yes, ultimately sickly) love. It is a sort of love, no doubt, because he expresses all the symptoms of eros. His male gaze is held by the thread of fascination: on the one hand of the unknowing pull that the nymphet, Dolores Haze, has upon him,;on the other hand his sophisticated European professorial veneer recognizes that the stuff arousing the little one's admiration is uniformly "trash" ~she lacks the necessary critical distance to judge it. (This includes celebrity and film magazines,  shops with knick knack souvenirs, comics etc.)

via pinterest

Humbert's own inherited profession is a perfume company, to which he pays little business attention throughout the novel, but which seems to have an indirect yet potent pull in the machinations of his love patterns. There is a specific reference to the unidentified "musky and powdery" scent of his formative love interest, the child Annabel, when he was of comparable age at the French Riviera, which he traces to her borrowing it from the Spanish maid (a reference that might indicate Maja by Myrurgia or even Habanita by Molinard, promoted with a Latin-sounding name and popular in France). But Humbert also references another unidentified perfume in the memorable poem he dedicates to his lost love towards the close of the novel.

"My Dolly, my folly! Her eyes were vair,
And never closed when I kissed her.
Know an old perfume called Soleil Vert?
Are you from Paris, mister?"

Soleil Vert literally translates as "green sun" and isn't among the many historical fragrances which I am aware of. Supposedly this secret smell, this surreal sun which evokes the variations of light shone upon the two unlikely lovers constantly mentioned in the novel, is the one which has bonded the memory of her to him, a gift from him; one which he chose for her. Much like he chose one for her mother's sake, the landlady he had betrothed a little while before her tragic death in the hopes of keeping at the nymphet's side. But it is still interesting to contrast how mother Haze tricks Humbert into thinking he is going to be picking up perfume for a friend of hers, as an intended gift, when in fact the perfume is then held hostage to be used by the flirtatious woman herself in an equally sorrowful love tension tormenting the love-struck Charlotte in the hopes of catching her tenant's (unrequited) amorous interest.

via VioletHour/pinterest

Another memorable incident of scent marking the impossibility of love shared in literature comes from a part of the life-long diaries of Anais Nin, amassed in the tome titled Henry & June in which she recounts her rising desire for sexual and erotic exploration despite her genuine love for her banker husband, Hugo. Her adventuring desire positively detonates upon meeting the writer Henry Miller (famous for his own unabashed depictions of sexual exploration and erotic experiences in his work) and his beautiful, destitute, but "destructive"wife June Mansfield. The two women indulge in a bit of Sapphic intimacy marking the impossibility of a fully fledged relationship in the context of the mores of the times, or more importantly as the writer continually stresses her feelings of love and friendship for her husband whom she won't quit and June's detached state in life. But it is again perfume, this time in the form of Guerlain's Mitsouko, which creates the tension of memory for the star-crossed lovers.

June asks for Anais to gift her with her perfume as a memento. The perfume is again mentioned as being the thing she notices and keeps as a memory from Anais' house. It's referenced by monetary value too (it's expensive for poor Miller and his wife). It's implied as a mysterious veil that captures the essence of Anais too. In a way, the Guerlain perfume loses some of the respectability and bourgeois factor it enjoys as the scent of choice of a banker's wife and earns through this impossible love, this fated affair, the reputation of a scent that signals a capitulation to some erotic journey of the mind and of the soul.

Anais and another Guerlain perfume, L'Heure Bleue, are wonderfully, poignantly tied in a love poem which I had read a while ago and I hereby quote for you.

"The blue hour perfume hesitates
like a turquoise tear, before falling
cerulean through her hourglass night;
a mauve nocturne of
low saxophone notes
and amaretto sorrows,
echoing footfalls of younger years
departing her dark almond-forest hair;
so as not to awaken from a dream
about to come true, blossoming
within herself; an indigo rose,
unfolding lavender lovers
pressed violet against her lips."


found on Underground voices, Don Pesavento

[1] Vladimir Nabokov
[2] Anais Nin

Don't forget to check out the links for the posts of my friends:

Gaia on The Non Blonde
and Lucas on Chemist in a Bottle.

Love is in the Air: Regency Perfume Rings ~Valentine's Day Countdown part 4

Perfumes serve many admirable purposes, but their reputation for catching (and holding) a love interest's attention has forever been the most popular one, for better or for worse. I elaborated previously on the Victorian perfume buttons and today I'm going to present you with more historical curios. In the meantime contemporary makers of scent objects haven't been idle either and in fact we have a delightful giveaway for real Swarowski pens which serve also as atomizers for perfume (so you can spray perfume with your pen!), so if you missed that post check it out and enter a comment for a chance to win one for yourself!
And now, on to the world of Jane Austen and those Regency styled images…

via 

During the Georgian era the popularization of Eau de Cologne meant no more oily residue for perfumes, so the process of wearing scented accessories was rather easy compared to the thick unguents of prior times. The 19th century gentleman specifically was catered by the likes of Juan Famenias Floris and his lightweight and elegant scented toiletries (Floris notoriously provided the emblematic Regency dandy, Beau Brummel), a tradition that would make novelist Jane Austen have her heroine Emma judge Frank Churchill's desire to travel "sixteen miles twice over" to just  have his hair cut and groomed in London as "foppery and nonsense".
What is less know is that in Regency times the tradition of perfumed rings came into being, no doubt a distant cousin of the poison rings that pervaded the European courts during the 15th and 16th century (and which allowed for the swift disposal of enemies by the careful administering of various poisons ~always at the reach of a hand!~ into the drinks and food of those partaking in a feast). But perfume rings were decidedly benevolent.

It would be no exaggeration to claim that perfume rings at the time are solely handled by the ladies. For the gentlemen the rings of the Elizabethan portraits, which almost click and clank due to their sheer profusion, are a thing of the past; the signet ring (a single ring which serves essentially as a beautifully mounted seal, distinctive enough for signing one's correspondence, as well as an anti-counterfeit measure) rules the day. Women on the other hand had the benefit of using the ring in more cunning ways. As the tradition of gentlemen bowing to lightly kiss the ladies' hands was rampant, the design of the perfume ring allowed for liquid and fragrant pomade to seep through tiny cuts and holes into the material, therefore aromatizing not only the lady in question, but also the giver of the kiss on the hand.

For lovers the motif of the heart reigned even back then, dating back to the fide rings of the Middle Ages (fide from Latin for faith). Its natural progression was the Claddagh ring, which has the heart surmounted by a crown held by a pair of hands, and which by the way that is worn denotes whether the person wearing it is single or bespoken. The rings took on other popular early 19th century love themes: Cupid and Psyche (a tale taken from Greek mythology); turtle-doves, usually in pairs, sacred to the goddess Venus; clinging evergreen ivy, forget-me-nots or pansies (oddly enough a non fragrant flower but very popular during the 19th century); or the bezel-set rings with a clock dial whereupon the gem is mounted on the number 12 and the inscription temps nous joindra (time will bring us together again) in the hoop, popular for lovers kept apart for any length of time.
Obviously the rings did not contain all those symbols and uses together!

The use of perfume lockets/padlocks, where curls of silky hair were included for safekeeping between lovers, was also in use, but the repercussions were less flirty than the ring, which by the sheer movement of the hand meant a detonation of its perfumed message….

Love is in the Air: Victorian Perfume Buttons ~ Valentine's Day Countdown Part 3.

Our love-hued feature on Perfume Shrine takes on the historical approach today exploring the delightful  tradition of the Victorians who were known for many elaborate rituals when it came to flirting, from the secret language of flowers to the flirtation routine which involved the cunning use of gloves, handkerchieves or a fan.

pic from etsy/thelostrooms via Pinterest

Although perfume lockets and scent-filled jewelry is making a resurgence among collectors and craftsmen and craftswomen who are very active online with dedicated eshops or boutiques on sites such as Etsy or Ebay, the lesser known tradition of perfumed buttons is one that has been passed by. It's also something which can be fairly easily replicated by anyone as a flirting trick, as it requires simply a few easily found buttons and some perfume at hand (and I'm sure that readers of this site are amply decked with the latter!).

Among functional little objects, such as the humble button, the Victorian and Edwardian women and craftsmen knew no boundaries in their imaginative prowess into creating patterns and styles that would both visually please (such as the portrait buttons, jet with lustre or the ones featuring French enamel on the high end or the calico ones on the lower end) or occasionally serve other, less obvious purposes. Victorian "perfume buttons" specifically involved fabric-covered buttons which were including pieces of velvet in their sewing pattern which were then dabbed with a woman's favorite perfume. This way the thickish fabric retained the scent, subtle but lingering and creating a hint of a fragrant wake.
The tradition took an especially poignant and romantic purpose when these perfume buttons were sewn under the lapel of a beau's jacket going off to fight on some far away land in dangerous trenches or in the American Civil War, or -less riskily- when he was traveling, so that the fragrance wafting from the chest upwards would remind him of the woman he had left behind. Since both women and men shared their fragrant innocuous blends that invariably revolved around violets, rose, lavender and such ~if we refer to polite society and not the demi-monde who favored heavier and more animalic-smelling scents ~ there was no social faux pas in having a man waft a woman's scent.

pic from etsy/alliesadornments via Pinterest

Another reason for the popularity of Victorian perfume buttons had a twofold explanation. The Victorians had a romanticized and slightly puritanical vision of the body, as an abode and sanctum, where no scent should actually touch the skin, therefore favoring the scenting of accessories such as handkerchieves, fans and the good ol' gloves (for more on that see PerfumeShrine's article on Scented Gloves and their History). Since some of the scented essences involved oily carriers, preceding as they did the modern era of ethanol dilution of powerful synthetics that bypass the problem of staining, the medium of carrying the perfume was important to be stain-proof. Dark velvet wasn't exactly immune to oily stains, but they didn't show as they would on the satiny silk and wool fabrics of dresses. Therefore a sort of decorative brass buttons with velvet fabric inside were created to accommodate and a vogue for long "necklaces" or decorative "edges" of buttons emerged. There were even sometimes crafted into pieces of jewelry, such as bracelets, necklaces or earrings, some of which survive in modern re-interpretations for the antique and vintage lover.

A tradition that should see a rebirth, if you ask me!

pic from etsy/alliesadornments via Pinterest

Love is in the Air part 2: A Very Special Valentine's Day Giveaway

You all love gifts, and why not? I have a special one for you today, thanks to the kind generosity of Jovan Van Drielle of Tijon Fragrance Lab & Boutique.

The prize? A Swarovski crystal pen/atomizer (depicted) which sprays perfume (!!) in black velvet gift box with genuine black velvet pen purse pouch, to write scented billets d'amour with!

The contest:
Please share with us your most romantic story.  It could be an actual date, or just a romantic gesture that you were fortunate enough to experience. Draw is open till February 12th midnight and winner will be announced on February 14th.

Jovan's take to get you started? "My romantic story happened in 2013. I was meeting someone for lunch, it was a first date. As I approached the restaurant someone called out my name, I turned around and my date was standing face to face with me, and before I knew what was happening, my date kissed me! (I'm not talking a peck on the cheek) This was a full blown, take your breath away, "Paris" kiss. LOL.... We've been inseparable ever since. "

Your most romantic story wins a prize...and if there are several good ones, then I will pick MORE than one winner! This is a worldwide contest with no geographical barriers!

Thanks Jovan and good luck to everyone!

Love is in the Air: Valentine's Day countdown Part 1

Rejoice for love is to be celebrated every day, not just on February 14th. However since the blogging world operates by the regularity of Hallmark (and counting on its steady sales no doubt), a countdown to Valentine's Day didn't seem too bad of an idea; there are certainly worse things to countdown to.
For this project there will be tips and nuggets of love lore throughout the first half of February on these pages, starting with today, and there will be a super-dedicated post (a joint project no less) next Friday (so stay tuned).

So, for today, a small announcement:

Jovan van Drielle, owner of Tijon La Jolla perfumerie and kindly sponsoring our site (though this particular post is unaffiliated), is hosting a Week of Love, from February 9th to February the 16th in which couples are encouraged to drop by and play with aphrodisiac essences to make their own 'magik' elixir! More info by clicking on the link.

Stay tuned for Part 2 and love away!