The winner of the draw...

...for that cute dress I posted about the other day is Manon729. Congratulations! Please email me with your full shipping data and I will have it delivered to your door.

Thanks everyone for playing along and till the next one! (soon)

Herbal & Tangy, Aromatic & Green: Unusual Scents from the Bountiful Garden

Have you ever wanted to bottle the sweet smell of an herb garden or the tangy scent of a tomato? Such a mental image is enough to send your mind spinning into fantasies of having your own little patch of greenery or the memory of cutting the stems of fresh, organic vegetables grown in your childhood's garden. I suppose these are daydreams we all have but have yet to find the perfect scented memento to make them come alive again. Well, now you can, apparently.



 Great American Scents, a New Albany, Ohio based company that creates unique fragrances and candles, recently launched a new line of scented candles and perfumes called Bountiful Garden. These artisanal scents were created for a woman (or a man!) who loves the natural smell of the earth’s bounty; they signal freshness and impart the free-feeling spirit of the outdoors.

The 2013 Spring and Summer Collection features these enticing fragrances:

Tomato Leaf
Nothing signals a garden in full bloom more than sweet and luscious red tomatoes on the vine. And to their succulent charm Great American Scents added the oh-so slightly tart scents of verbena and rhubarb. Plus the beguiling earthiness of oak and moss. This is summer heaven. Top Notes: verbena, rhubarb, tomato stem; Mid-Notes: Olive flower, crushed green leaves; Dry Notes: oak moss, guaiac wood

Flowering Herbs
Nothing complements a garden and kitchen like a delightfully fragrant herb garden. Bright grapefruit and crisp apple scents, followed by fresh hyacinth and luscious peonies with pretty patchouli notes underneath will greet anyone who walks through a room. Top Notes: Grapefruit, green herbs, apple; Mid-Notes: Hyacinth, lotus flower, peony; Dry Notes: sycamore, patchouli, blonde woods

Sweet Magnolia
Conjure up the romantic South more with the honeyed goodness of magnolia blossoms. With a touch of lemon and hyacinth for brightness, and that most charming of scents – gardenia. Beneath it all Great American Scents has stirred in the timeless intrigue of iris and sandalwood. Top Notes: Lemon, gardenia leaves, hyacinth; Mid-Notes: gardenia blossom, lotus flower, magnolia; Dry Notes: skin musk, sandalwood, iris.

Beet Root
Delight in the earthy and spicy scents of bergamot, cedarwood and musk, wrapped with a hint of green leaves, orange blossoms and sea lily. Then sweet and fruity notes of fig, oleander and orange blossom join in this fragrant melody. Top Notes: Bergamot, green leaf, fig; Mid-Notes: sea lily, oleander, orange blossom; Dry Notes: cedarwood, warm wood, musk

Victory Garden
During World War II, Victory Gardens sprung up all across America with their crisp aromas of basil and sage. Walk a little further and a touch of citrus, violets and lavender appeared on the nose. And for good measure the warmth of cedar and mahogany added depth and dimension. Top Notes: Bergamot, petitgrain, basil; Mid-Notes: lavender, violet, crisp sage; Dry Notes: warm woods, cedarwood, mahogany

Orchard Blossom
When the orchard begins to blossom the delicious scents of fresh fruit can’t be far behind. Here Great American Scents starts with sweet apply, lush apricots and morning dew. Then delicate tiare flower joins in. And the warmth of orris and musk add a comforting finish. Top Notes: Apricot, apple, dew fruits; Mid-Notes: Apple blossom, tiare flower, stardust peony; Dry Notes: blonde woods, orris, musk.

Sunshine Grove
Come to the Grove and pick the sparkling fresh scents of citrus fruit with Great American Scents. And take joy in the uplifting fragrances of lemongrass blossom, sage and iris. Plus Great American Scents has added a whiff of intoxicating vanilla and musk. Top Notes: Orange, sage, clementine; Mid-Notes: lemongrass blossom, neroli, lily; Dry Notes: vanilla, iris, musk


For more information about Bountiful Garden, visit http://www.greatamericanscents.com, http://www.facebook.com/GreatAmericanScents or http://www.twitter.com/AmericanScents.

A Very Special Giveaway for Our Readers

There are several giveaways on Perfume Shrine, because hey, who doesn't want to win something, and it's a good way to connect with my shyer readers as well. I don't usually post all the giveaway opportunities that come into my inbox from companies and PR agents because so many of them have no relevance or are boring and staid. But I was sent a courteous email by Shabby Apple, a vintage clothing line, and there was a variety of dresses to choose for my readers.

So, this is what I did. I made it a giveaway of one gorgeous, easy, stylish dress of my choosing for you to wear & enjoy and think a little of Perfume Shrine every time that you do.  :-)

I chose this model above, called Jacob's Pillow (click on the link to see details and alternative views). Not only is it something I'd wear myself in a heartbeat (in fact I do own similar things), but I thought it was both cute and streamlined enough, with its French-style polka dots and its trendy peplum detail; plus I should image it would hug curves and bring out the best of them. It's also available in a variety of sizes, is cotton stretch and would look good any time, dressed up or down (and would go perfectly with a classy vintage fragrance too!).

Careful: there's one caveat; the giveaway is open (due to specifications of the company) only to US readers. (And sorry guys this is a feminine thing, and you're not catered this time, but perhaps you could grab it for the woman in your life if you have one?) So if you have an address in the United States, please write a comment as to whether you enjoy vintage-looking clothing and why and you're eligible for winning this lovely dress. Draw is open till Thursday 8am and I will announce the winner later that day. Good luck!

King Kong out of the Jungle: Fragrance Sleuthing

A bottle of this surfaced on Ebay again recently. It was funny to see it amidst a sea of genuine articles by the same seller. Despite everything, you see, I honestly think King Kong de Kenzo is a knock off produced to ride on the coat-tails of the infamous Jungle fragrance (and Kenzo's Jungle Jap fashions) and not a genuine article. If you notice, the brand is "Parfum de Kenzo" (singular), not "Parfums Kenzo" (as in every other authentic perfume by the designer Kenzo and on the official site). Besides Parfums Kenzo division was founded in 1987. The databases online seem confused as to King Kong's date of release: Basenotes gives it as 1980, Fragrantica as 1978. Michael Edwards, the definitive perfume encyclopedia, with access to discontinued perfumes, doesn't list it at all. That should give us pause.

Additionally, the typeface, general aesthetic, generic spray bottle and typical red box might suggest something that didn't come out straight off the factory. The argument that the Right Bank resto on top of the Kenzo offices is called Kong is neither here nor there; it only opened in 2005...

Furthermore, the original fragrance Jungle (L'Elephant) by Kenzo was introduced in 1996, composed by Jean Louis Sieuzac and Dominique Ropion (with the "flanker" Jungle Le Trigre introduced one year later). The scent of King Kong further cements the tie with the 1990s (and particularly with Jungle of course which it copies closely), when intensely fruity notes first came to the market in various contexts (Yvresse, Deci Dela, Yohji, Poeme, Eden), with its mix of wild green banana, whiskey notes, intense ginger spice and what looks like a classic sandalwood-vanilla-amber base.

True enough, the people mentioning that it actually smells good and "like perfumes used to be" in so many words (such as the Perfume Posse and The Non Blonde) aren't delusional, all the same; after all they're experienced sniffers. Posse goes as far as saying that according to the procurer of her sample the fragrance was made by someone who loved the King Kong movie with Jessica Lange and Jeff Bridges (*editor gives slow wolfish whistle*) back in 1976.  I'd be willing to believe that, only thinking that if a Japanese designer would be intimately enamored with a beast out of the post-nuke era, that would have been Godzilla, wouldn't it? Anyway...What's the truth? It's just that dupes of old times smell better than the genuine article circulating on counters today. It's sad, I know.

Furthermore, someone created this obviously, lovingly  du fond du coeur and didn't anticipate it to become the object of so much dissecting. But for history's and posterity's sake, we might as well set the record straight.

Le Labo Limette 37 City-Exclusive: new fragrance

Don't expect Le Labo's San Francisco exclusive to be a chilly summer fog essence or the Golden Gate in a bottle. Le Labo is hot on the heels of the launch of two new fragrances, Lys 41 and Ylang 49, part of the classic le Labo collection, with another city-exclusive to substitute for the loss of Aldehyde 44 for Dallas, due to discontinuation, (see a review of Aldehyde 44 here), after the closing down of the Barneys boutique distribution there.

Source: Uploaded by user via PerfumeShrine on Pinterest

 [Photo by Kathrin Thelen via fotocommunity.de]

According to the official blurb by the company: "Limette 37's reference to San Francisco is abstract and delves into its olfactive construction that mimics the hilly ride from Le Labo's Fillmore street store to the bay. You start off with a view, with bergamote's freshness and light, before plunging into the warm and welcoming effects of jasmine, petit grain and clove that roll into luscious softness with vetiver, tonka beans and musks... Limette 37 is an olfactive roller coaster, mingling an impression of cleanliness, freshness and well-being with that definite feeling that you are smelling special. In a good way of course."

We'll see, I suppose. Given that many of the city exclusives are true gems (Gaiac 10, Poivre 23, Baie Rose 26 or Vanille 40), perhaps the predictable ring of the given notes will amount to more than the sum of the parts.

*This is a repost from the post of 14th May, removed since, at the request of the company.

Perceptions of Freshness in Perfumes

No term is more brandished in perfume ad copy than "fresh", with the possible exception of "sexy". Quite often the two are intertwined in such memorable pop culture images as the "just out of the shower sexiness" in the advertorials for JLo's Glow. But fresh can mean a lot of things, when talking about fragrances, and not everyone agrees on quite what makes something smell "fresh". What IS fresh anyway?

via reinkingprojekte

One could argue that like other, more objective and qualitative perfumery terms, such as agrestic, aromatic, resinous or powdery, fresh denotes specific qualities, immediately recognizable, effortlessly translated into multiple cultures. Take dry citrus or mint, with its mental association of toothpaste and chewing gum. A fragrance like Eau d'Hadrien with its lemony tang or the minty coolness of Herba Fresca by Guerlain are undeniable "fresh" as opposed to "ripe", an adjective we'd reserve for things like Femme or Feminite du Bois with their prune and plum notes that evoke harvest, autumnal maturity, a delicious decline. But from then on freshness as related to smell descriptors takes on odd, unforeseen nuances.

Fresh is sometimes confused with "light", as in lacking heft, since freshness is so often related to the uplifting feeling of a spring renewal, when green and tangy scents fill the air with the promise of resurgence. Fresh can also sometimes mean "contemporary" and "modern", the opposite of old-fashioned, therefore gaining a cultural and time-sensitive connotation which is more complex than anticipated at first; this is where it gets really interesting. Cast your mind back to Chanel No.5. Coco Chanel -and perfumer Ernest Beaux for her- created it as a "fresh" scent, something totally modern, to break with the tradition of the Belle Epoque and its contemplative, demure and prim fragrances.

via theowlsare.fr

The link with modernity also hides another thought: apart from "fresh new", it can also mean "fresh" as opposed to "stale" or "musty". Since many of the classic chypres and grand florals are worn by older women because of the fond association they have with them from the time of their prime, the perception of staleness in regards to perfume gains a perverse but powerful mental image, that of the decay of old age associated with the decay of flowers, of leaves, of animal matter. No, eschew these depressing connotations in favor of an eternal spring, of budding rather than maturing, of awakening rather than somnambulant, bring on the "freshness", is what the industry is telling us to. And we heed to it, because we're defenseless before its guiles, as they're never consciously registered.

Chanel No.5 is also fresh in another sense: it smells of cleanliness, as Chanel wanted it to, appalled as she was of the ladies of high society who "smelled" of impropriety; well, at least it smells of cleanliness on the marquee, as the sexy with its musky and civet-rich backstage is another matter...And here to come to that other tangent on which freshness in fragrances works: the "clean", just out the shower, attribute.

After Chanel No.5 many aldehydic florals gained a fresh connotation, aided by the wide use of the main components in soap formulae, a connotation however that was sure to lose ground with younger generations as perfume fashion changed and aldehydics became the scent of a past generation. As one of my readers, Noetic Owl, put it in regards to Calandre by Paco Rabanne: "I kept sniffing my wrist all day-loving it, but also acknowledging that were my teenage daughters to sniff it on me they would probably say I smell like an 'old lady'. Funny how certain scents become dated -yet in my mother's mind (and mine as well) Calandre was a fresh and green scent."

Even incense can be related to freshness if you think about it. Frankincense in particular, a resin used for its meditative and cleansing properties since antiquity, has a dry, citric, refreshing smoky quality about it, which transports the spirit and creates the feeling of renewal, spiritual this time around.

During the decade of scent absolution, of olfactory catharsis from the heavy load of the carnality of the 1980s and its bombastic perfume powerhouses such as Giogio, Obsession and Opium, the 1990s saw fresh fragrances come to mean laundry detergent reminiscent scents, heavy on clean musks, and/or ozonic fragrances (with their Calone molecule, reminiscent of melon), often screechy and sharp. We're talking about fragrances such as L'Eau d'Issey, Light Blue, Aqua di Gio, Kenzo pour Homme...
Such is the cultural integration of the idea that if you ask people in their 40s today they still equate these scents with freshness; it's simply how they were brought up! You see, our olfactory imprint may be created during our childhood when our perception and emotional state is still virgin territory (and this is why the smells we came to love or despise at that period will remain with us), but it is our formative teenager and early 20s which cement our conscious associations with perfumes. This impressionable period accounts for a memorable data bank onto which we form ties and associations that will forever have a strong pull on us. Even if later on, with the vagaries of life and the wisdom of maturity we come to designate them to what is essentially true, peer pressure, the desire to fit in (or conversely for the rebels to stand out), the need to map out our olfactory identity. The 1990s perfumes were fresh all right; they turned a new page in perfumery's book, as the broke new ground and presented something -at the time- innovative and revolutionary

Similarly the strong pull of the fougere genre in regards to masculine fragrances, thanks to its inedible association with soap and grooming (think of Green Irish Tweed, Cool Water, Azarro Man, Paco Rabanne pour Homme or Drakkar Noir), has come to stand as fresh, further enhanced by its advertising. One look at the Cool Water glossy with the guy washed over by the splash of the ocean and you're sold.

Yet today freshness took a new spin, a yarn previously unthreaded. Nowadays "fresh" is often uttered in the same breath as fruity & sweet, often reminiscent of an odd combination between shampoo and candy. This is how ad copy has presented their case: Miss Dior (the revamped, contemporary version) is touted as the debutante scent that smells like a young girl discovering love and the pleasures of the flesh. Daisy Eau so Fresh (Marc Jacobs) even says so in the title!
It is funny indeed to contemplate how sweet by its very nature predisposes for an artificiality that requires some elaboration. After all we need to break some eggs, dust some sugar and whisk them together to come up with a dessert, needn't we? But the arbitrary, yet deliberate on the part of the industry, connection between contemporaneity and freshness means that fashion and vogues will dictate our perception of the latter in the passage of time.

Which are YOUR "fresh fragrances"? What do you consider "fresh"?

other pics buttercom.com, metrolic.com