On the ground floor of Selfridges, participants enter a futuristic laboratory-like space peopled by scientific-looking assistants in white lab coats. Guests are given an iPad and asked to take a personality test that consists of multiple-choice questions and pictures.
After filling that out, visitors don a pair of white headphones and make their way through an audio-guided tour of spaces filled with various objects and scents. They might, for example, open a mystery drawer, selecting an object that speaks to them in some way and identifying the smells that rouse them most.
These choices help determine their personal fragrance, concocted by perfumer Givaudan and presented to them at the end of the tour in a private, silver-colored room. Along with the bottle, they get an "about you" description
"Up until the late 1960s, I had no interest in perfume whatsoever. It was during a trip to Morocco in 1968 that it took hold of my senses and reawakened my past.
Over there, I saw women armed with long poles, hitting the orange trees to bring down the blossoms, which they collected in large white sheets laid out on the ground like a blanket of snow.
"Marrakesh Pink" - Royal Theatre in The Rose City/The Pink City/The Red City;
Names for the Jewel of Morocco ~ Photography by Edwin de Johgh via pinterest
My walks through the medina of Marrakech completed this rediscovery of the fifth sense. There I felt the voluptuousness and sweetness of different woods – a mingling of air, sun, dust and the scent of animals, diffused by that confection of woods: cedar being carved in the tiny carpenters’ workshops I passed.
These impressions became so firmly implanted in my mind that, in the early 1990s, I set about creating Féminité du Bois, which made its mark in the perfumery world. A few years later, I reaffirmed my interest in perfume by creating Ambre Sultan, which began as a small piece of amber, which I also found in the souks and had kept in a small thuja wood box. The scent that was released when I opened it was exactly as I remembered it."
Jovan van Drielle has sent me the announcement of the winners for her grand prize for Tijon Mother's Day Contest and it's my pleasure and honor to share the names of the 3 winners (yes, Jovan is that generous she decided to hand out 3 prizes) as well as the winning story for you to enjoy.
1st prize - $1000. value package - Cynthia Nielsen
2nd prize will receive a $700.00 value package - Hollan McBride
3rd prize - $500.00 value package - Cindie Roeder Leonard
And below, please read the winning story. What is YOUR mother's day story/reminiscence/etc?
Dior's La Collection Privée (formerly La Collection Couturier Parfumeur) is supplemented for 2014 with a new addition called Cuir Cannage. The "leather fragrance" in question is inspired by the scent of the insides of a leather handbag and reflects that beautiful combination of flowers and leather "notes" which is the mettle of many gorgeous classics in perfumery.
The name is inspired by the beautiful "woven" treatment of the Dior "cannage" handbags, which reprise a popular technique of weaving calamus and daemonorops for furniture use and basketry (producing a beautiful effect that reminds of lacework). By reference the name then predisposes for a dry, rasping fragrance.
The new Dior exclusive perfume, Dior Cuir Cannage, will be available in the usual 125ml and 250ml sizes of La Collection Privée as well as the giga 450ml size at the specialized Dior boutiques catering to the exclusive collection buyers. Available in June 2014.
One could be excused for getting all dreamy eyed and nostalgic à la Nuovo Cinema Paradiso upon watching the latest commercial by Dolce & Gabbana for their feminine fragrance launch, Dolce eau de parfum. They could be excused for erupting in twirly pirouettes filled with longing at the sight of the super pretty bottle, its flower cap, its grosgrain bow, its retro typeface. But what one can't possibly excuse is getting worked up over the fragrance of Dolce by Dolce & Gabbana itself, because, frankly, it's so programmatically "not"-so-many-things that it gets very hard to describe it.
It's not really floral, despite the ad copy and the images of orange groves in full bloom. Not indolic-smelling, which comes hand in hand with white flower fragrances. Not woody either. Nor citrusy. Not particularly feminine if your notion of femininity is not terribly challenged by a particular philosophic system of which I am not accountable for. Not anything special in the fresh fragrance slot. Not distinctive, not unique by any stretch of the imagination. Not offensive either, but that's damning it with faint praise.
"Neroli leaves" (come again?), papaya flower, white amaryllis, narcissus, white water lily, sandalwood. Where are all these things?
A clean, lightly aqueous neroli scent with a faint musky underpinning that won't get you noticed even if your life depended on it, Dolce eau de parfum projects "meh-shampoo" in a me-too-pool of similar scents for women afraid to use fragrance with any conviction. It could just be the perfect culmination of a product that looks like a perfume but doesn't perform like one for our crazy times. Even if destined to the very young or the very inexperienced, there is nothing in Dolce eau de parfum of the flush of daring and defiance that a truant teenager might indulge into, swiftly exchanging her smart pants and sweater for a cut off blouse and heels in secret at the ante-room of her house to go out with the hip crowd of her school. It's also so faint for an eau de parfum to make one seriously doubt their nose. If this gets released in eau de toilette there will be someone doing a cartoonish, evil laugh all the way to the bank, because they might as well be selling plain water for all the dilution.
So why am I even bothering to review it, you ask?
Simple. It's the first original release by the Italian brand that is not a flanker or re-issue in what feels like eons. I'm susceptible. I love Italian style.
Additionally, I can be excused for feeling a pang of what Swedes call 'smultronställe' , literally a wild strawberry patch, but figuratively a sentimentally laden spot returned to for solace, an escape from sadness. Sicily is Dolce & Gabbana's spot. My own smultronställe has been orange groves in full bloom from my childhood like the ones shown in the romantic commercial for Dolce eau de parfum. I might be excused for seeking them into a bottle of fragrance advertised with exactly those images in neorealist style and nostalgic color saturation…
A really wasted chance, if you ask me. Bring back Sicily.
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