The Power of Perfume: Jail-time & Shalimar

Although many stars have worn [Guerlain] Shalimar, none of them are famous for pouring it down a prison drain, which is what Maharani Gayatri Devi, the princess of Jaipur, reportedly did during her stay in a Delhi penitentiary in 1975. Jailed for violating tax laws, the Maharani doused the pipes to relieve the jail of bad odors.

 via glo.msn.com

Guerlain "Nous N'Avons Pas de Prenom" vs.Marcel Guerlain & Hughes Guerlain: Perfume History

It's not uncommon that perfume newbies sometimes come across fragrances with the name "Guerlain" in their presentation and get confused as to whether it pertains to the classic, revered family house (now under LVMH ownership) or it involves a fake. (Sad as it might be, the latter is not unheard of, with dubious specimens cropping up like "vintage" Louis Vuitton fragrances beyond the known etc.) The answer to this is neither.

via tumblr.com

Two other Parisian perfume companies, Marcel Guerlain & Hughes Guerlain, are in fact totally legit and have been producing beautiful perfumes for years. Although Marcel Guerlain, who has been producing fragrances and cosmetics from his beautiful 86 rue du Faubourg-Saint-Honore in Paris boutique since 1923, shares a surname to one of the heirs of the Guerlain family, these names are not affiliated with the Pierre-Francois Guerlain family.

The confusion was no less annoying in the years preceding WWII than it is today: Marcel was legally forced to eventually change his company's name to Societe des Parfumeurs Francais. USA advertisements bear the inscription "no connection with any firm of similar name" before it. The Guerlains also took their own measures, giving rise to the "nous n'avons pas de prenom" campaign (i.e. we have no first name).
The often impressive Marcel Guerlain bottles were developed with the help of Andre Jollivet and other designers of the time.

via old-paper.delcampe.net

Marcel Guerlain Caravelle via worthpoint.com

Marcel Guerlain perfumes include:

1923 Kadour
1923 Le Roy le Veult
1924 Caravelle
1924 Pavillon Royal

Marcel Guerlain Royal Pavillon via worthpoint.com

1924 Pate D'Or
1925 Masque Rouge
1925 Ki-Loc
1925 Mai Wang
1927 Le Roi Le Veult
1927 Tabac Fleuri 8
1927 Tabac Fleuri 9
1927 Masque Rouge
1927 Contes Choisis
1928 Chypre
1929 Redoute Masque/ Rouge Redoute

Marcel Guerlain Rolls Royce via liveauctioneers.com

1929 Rolls Royce
1930 Aimee-Aime
1930 Le Cadre Noir
1930 Les Fleurs
1930 Mol
1930 Pois Senteur
1930 Cyclone
1930 Special 5

Aimee byHughes Guerlain via 1000fragrances.blogspot.com

It's interesting to note that the other company named in the title of this article, Hughes Guerlain, was founded also by Marcel Guerlain himself, alongside several other companies involved in the production and distribution of cosmetics and perfumes.

via catalogue.drouot.com

Hughes Guerlain perfumes comprise:

Extrait 9 (1920s)
Extrait 14 (1920s)
Chypre de Hughes Guerlain (1930s)
Bolide
Molny
Aimee (1930s)
Toutes Fleurs (1940s)

In conclusion, though less celebrated than the famous Guerlain classics, the products by Marcel Guerlain and Hughes Guerlain are not to be scoffed at, being beautiful and worthwhile in their own right.

Certain chronologies via Museu del Perfum

Fragrance in the Workplace: New Developments

"New ADA regulations make it easier for employees to file disability claims for allergies and other scent-related conditions. While there are not many cases, some case law already exists that is shaping how employers must react to remain compliant. In a recent BLR webinar, Marc Jacuzzi outlined for us some of the cases that have shaped how employers should react when an employee has fragrance sensitivity."

via planetthrive.com

Thus begins an article on fragrance sensitivity now falling under disabilities guidelines. Read it here.

Twin Peaks: Balecianga Florabotanica & Hermes Kelly Caleche (comparison & review)

I had always maintained that Hermès's Kelly Calèche perfume from 2007 was a sleeper classic: it has the ethereal, aristocratic quality of Grace Kelly with an atonal modernity built in to it, a herbal rose abstraction, the perfect introductory fragrance for young women ~brought up in Bath & Body Works body sprays~ into "proper" perfume. It didn't intimidate, it didn't cajole with false pretenses of sweetness, it didn't turn too masculine or too soapy, all thanks to its refinement and slightly disjoint character of herbs plus flowers. Strangely enough, it's no shame to admit Kelly Calèche commercially languishes. With no celebrity face endorsing it, no big advertising, a reference to an iconic bag ("the Kelly") that only the really really wealthy (and well connected) can acquire and a smell that doesn't propose seduction, it was meant to be.

via pinterest

Still the artistic idea by perfumer Jean Claude Ellena was a good one and several upstarts tried to re-do it with a different concept presentation to appeal to the exact same demographic. Gucci Flora for one. Balenciaga, a hipper brand than both, in Nicolas Ghesquière's tenure, tries once more and now employs the rock chic ~and cheat~ of Twilight saga star Kristen Stewart to promote it, wrapped in packaging of pure 1970s psychedelia and with a name to finally mean what it says: Florabotanica.Apparently the official ad speak talks about evoking "the 18th century botanical gardens in which the most exotic and rarest plant species were displayed". Yeah, all rightie.

“Flowers can be cruel, carnivorous or poisonous,"Ghesquière said upon Florabotanica's launch. "What would a perfume that contained this mystery be like?” I'll tell you what, it smells like Kelly Calèche, a perfume that is neuther cruel, nor carnivorous, least of all poisonous. Not too obviously floral either. We're not dealing with juggernaut. But the element of danger and the forbidden has to be brought into ad speak, axiomatically it seems, because perfume apparently cannot (or will not) extricate itself from the game of seduction, no matter how much fragrance yearns to be perceived as art! Therefore IFF perfumers Olivier Polge and Jean-Christophe Herault were brought to the task to reprise the green rosy aspect, the top note that recalls bittersweet tomato leaves, the cooling effect of green shoots, the lightly sensuous, close to the skin lingering human-like trace, and the linear perfume structure that smells the same from top to bottom. Florabotanica is suitable for the girl at college as it is for the professional working at an office, from morning to casual evenings, and might even have young girls' mothers (or brothers) borrowing it on occasion, it's that pliable and wearable, with a moderate projection and trail despite the initial faux "loudness".  Does it create ripples in the pond, though? Nah...

Those who give credence to perfume notes and what they mean won't believe just how different these two appear to be on paper. But hey, don't take my word for it, go smell them side by side! (And while you're at it, give a whirl to Eau de Pamplemousse Rose and Rose Ikebana, both Hermès, if you happen to be close to one of their boutiques, to see the same idea fleshed in small variations by the original artist).

Florabotanica notes: mint, carnation, hybrid rose, caladium leaves, amber and vetiver.
Kelly Calèche notes: jasmine, mimosa, narcissus, tuberose, iris, lily of the valley, benzoin and leather.

Florabotanica by Balenciaga is available at major department stores for $95 for 1.7 ounces/50ml of Eau de Parfum.
Kelly Calèche is still available on Hermès' counters and boutiques last I checked.

Hermes Ambre des Merveilles: fragrance review

Much like the brownie points of "casual chic" of the original Eau des Merveilles (2004) by perfumers Ralf Schwieger and Nathalie Feisthauer, L'Ambre des Merveilles never intends to intrude a space, but rather infiltrate like a secret agent. To pursue a musical analogy, whereas amber (ambre) is usually solid Buxtehude, L 'Ambre it's a lacework melody by Gabriel Fauré; two cyclical piano phrases, like the four-beat gait of a horse, having a conversation with an echoing cello.

An Adirondack Lake by Winslow Homer via hudillo

The newest Hermes in the Merveilles fragrance line (again) showcases perfumer Jean-Claude Ellena's mastery of his materials: there's nary a heavy or syrupy off note as trap-like as this perfume trope can get; the equivalent of a warm hug rather than a baked goods pastry or a head shop rife with patchouli and amber aphrodisiacs. We're long off that vulgarized route and yet L'Ambre never misses a beat on smelling alluring and sexually appealing all the same—or rather, in spite of it.

L'Ambre des Merveilles unites some aspects of both Elixir des Merveilles and Eau Claire des Merveilles (previous flankers from 2006 and 2010 respectively) into its DNA, the comforting gingerbread cookie nuance gaining the nuzzling sweetness of the hug of a close friend who's wearing cosmetic powder and sweet amber perfume oil. Because, you see, there's both warmth and austerity in L'Ambre, interpreting the amber "fragrance note" (really a mix of ingredients) into a perfume that explores all facets of this most traditional aperture of Orientalia: the initial piquancy, the resinous depth and heft, the powdery trail lingering on skin and clothes, the vanilla dryness...The bitterness of labdanum, a touch of soil, of earth smelled in the air, the saturation of crocus yellow trailing off the horizon ~and what I sense as powdery benzoin~ mingle with the bittersweet citrusy top note and a hint of blond tobacco into an amalgam that is brighter than the sum of its parts, yet is still oddly founded on the minerals and salty skin idea of the original Eau.

L'Ambre des Merveilles feels light and buoyed and collapsingly soft, like being surrounded by a sunny cloud, and invokes thoughts of nostalgia, quiet contentment and being at peace with the world.




Music: Gabriel Fauré - Sicilienne, for cello & piano, Op. 78 dedicated to William Henry Squire

Perfume Quote: My Entire Childhood Smelled of Cassie

"The hours I spent with my mother were full of mystery; we sat opposite each other, she on a chair beside the window, me on a stool, and in the silence I felt my chest to fill to satiation, as if the wind around us were milk and I was suckling it. Over our heads stood the acacia tree and when it was in bloom the courtyard was gloriously scented. I loved how my mother put the fragrant yellow flowers in all our chests and linens; my entire childhood smelled of cassie.

We were talking, a lot of quiet conversations, when my mother recounted about her father and the village she was born in, and then I told her about the lives of the saints I had read and tried to unravel their life using my imagination; as if what they had suffered already weren't enough, I added more of it on my own, until my mother started weeping.
Then I felt regret, sat on her knees, caressed her hair and consoled her: -"They went to heaven, mother, don't worry, they're strolling under blooming trees, chatting with the angels and have forgotten their sufferings. And every Sunday they put their gold clothing, caps with red tassels and go to pay a visit to God".

Mother then wiped her tears, looked at me as if saying "Really, do you think so?" and she smiled. And the canary, in its cage, listened to us, lifted its throat and sang drunkenly, happy, as if it had left the saints for a moment and came down to earth to spread goodwill among the people.

My mother, the cassie and the canary are inseparably mingled, immortal in my mind; I can no longer smell acacia or hear a canary without having my mother rise from the tomb ~from my gut!~ and to mingle with this scent and the singing canary".

~Nikos Kazantzakis, from "Report to Greco" (translation from the Greek by E.Vosnaki)