The Seduction of Scent: The Myth of The Scented Panther & Iunx

The ancient Greeks knew how to sprinkle fantasy and poetry into their fragrant tales: The poplars wept amber tears for the fall of the sun; Tantalus is bereft of tantalising fruits of exquisite scent forever out of his reach; and upon every tale of hero or heroine transformed into some fragrant plant or material (like Daphne, Narcissus or Myrrha), trying to escape the ever amorous advances of some god or lesser deity, reigns the fascinating myth of the scented panther.

“The panther exudes an odour that is pleasing to all other animals, which is why it hunts by staying hidden and attracting them with its scent.”

According to the myth, of all the animals, the panther was the only one that smelled naturally good. This Greek myth teaches us a thing or two about the seduction of scent, if only in how it has captured the imagination of people for milennia. The classical writers write that the panther calls on its prey. Rather different than the hidden in ambush, squating its back down onto the long grass feline, keeping an eye on its prey unwatched. The mythical panther just exudes its scent and “the fawns, gazelles and wild goats are attracted 
to this fragrance by a sort of iunx.”

This elusive word, a strange transliteration that even inpired a fragrance house by the same name conceived by perfumer Olivia Giacobetti (Iunx), is actually derived from the Greek for "to call, to cry out" and it makes sense in the sense of it working like a calling card for the panther ~or anyone using a means to an end; for our purposes that would be scent. Latin transformed it to "iynx" from which "lynx" isn't too far away (and neither is "jinx" which is also derived from it, the calling of bad luck).
Panther on the other hand literally means "all beast", from the Greek παν (pan, i.e. all) and θηρίο (thereeo, i.e. beast). The panther is a symbol, a mythical creature with the looks of an αίλουρος/ailuros, a feline and a power multiplied tenfold, only belied by its suave movement.

As he paces in cramped circles, over and over,
the movement of his powerful soft strides
is like a ritual dance around a center
in which a mighty will stands paralyzed.

 ~from R.M.Rilke's The Panther(1902)

For the Greeks, the leopard, λεοπάρδαλη or πάρδαλη (pardalis), symbolizes the beautiful courtesan. But the latter is also designated by the same term, even as late as the 20th century; I well recall women referring to other women with a shady reputation in their erotic ethos describing them by this term (παρδαλή), which also denotes eccentricity and being sui generis in Greek! Βoth creatures make use of scented wiles therefore, of mysterious spells and the advantage of ambush, basing their power on things you can't really control. The smell of the cat has tcome to symbolise seduction, capitulation to an erotic pull, love conquest and the mystery of femininity. Let's not forget how the Greeks changed the Sphinx, a creature with a woman's head, a feline's body and a serpent's tail (her name coming from the Greek "to pull, to strangle"), from a solar deity in ancient Egypt to a lunar deity, thus tieing the feminity of the symbol with the regular tide that also rules a woman's cycle. (The Greeks viewed Bast as the lunar deity Artemis, who is also accompanied by ailuri, ie. big cats)

The "iunx", although a term transfigured by metaptosis in other languages, still stood for something tangible all the same; a love charm. In erotic magic, the seductress made use of a small wheel attached to a piece of string. This little instrument produced a whirring sound which caught the ear as much as the motion caught the eye: the pull was almost mysterious.
Iunx came to transpose the object on the subject who yielded it; it came to refer to the love potion maker, intextricably linking perfume with magic and eros. Indeed in classical iconography Eros is shown as holding an iunx. In the image off a red-painted vase by the Meidias painter (410 B.C.) Adonis and Himeros (the winged god of sexual desire) are playing with an iunx.


The god Dionysos, the god of transformative mirth, of wine and of abandon to sensuous desires, is often seen riding on a panther while his priests wore panthers' skins. Athenaeus in Deipnosophistae 2. 38e writes:

"From the condition produced by wine they liken Dionysos to a bull of panther, because they who have indulged too freely are prone to violence . . . There are some drinkers who become full of rage like a bull . . . Some, also, become like wild beasts in their desire to fight, whence the likeness to a panther."

Doesn't the panther also hide in itself the power of man-eater? The violent connotation of the dangers of getting too close to a vicious force of nature? Like love can be? In the 1942 film Cat People by Jacques Tourner, a Serbian immigrant fears that she will turn into the cat person of her homeland's fables if she is intimate with her American spouse.

Dionysos  was keen on transformation, often completing the task with a smattering of perfume. Witness Nonnus, Dionysiaca 14. 143 ff (trans. Rouse) (Greek epic C5th A.D.) :

"[The infant] Dionysos was hidden from every eye . . . a clever babe. He would mimic a newborn kid; hiding in the fold . . . Or he would show himself like a young girl in saffron robes and take on the feigned shape of a woman; to mislead the mind of spiteful Hera, he moulded his lips to speak in a girlish voice, tied a scented veil on his hair. He put on all a woman's manycoloured garments: fastened a maiden’s vest about his chest and the firm circle of his bosom, and fitted a purple girdle over his hips like a band of maidenhood."

Western European tradition reinforced the magical aspect of the panther in the medieval Bestialities: After feasting, the panther will sleep in a cave, its rest lasting 3 long days & nights. After this period ends, the panther roars, in the process emiting a sweet smelling odour. This odour draws in any creature who will smell it (the dragon being the only creature immune), upon which it feeds; and the cycle begins again.
It was the advent and domination of Christianity that finally turned the "man-eater" beast or seductive woman into the fragrantly sweet word of the redeemer: the magic allure of the scented panther who lies in the den for 3 days serves as parallelism with the stay of the Messiah in the grave for 3 days before his ressurection. The scent of sanctity henceforth became the alluring pull that draws men into a different kind of seduction: That of the spirit.

Painting of the Meidias vase via http://lib.haifa.ac.il, photo by Lydia Richter via gardenofeyecandy.com

thanks to Annick Le Guérer for her help

Improving our Sense of Smell: a Little Wiring

"A new study reveals for the first time that activating the brain's visual cortex with a small amount of electrical stimulation actually improves our sense of smell. The finding published in the Journal of Neuroscience by researchers at the Montreal Neurological Institute and Hospital -- The Neuro, McGill University and the Monell Chemical Senses Center, Philadelphia, revises our understanding of the complex biology of the senses in the brain."

From the full article Open your eyes and smell the roses: Activating the visual cortex improves our sense of smell

Annick Goutal Nuit Etoilee: new fragrance

When I was pairing Van Gogh's famous painting Nuit Etoilée with my review of Annick Goutal's idiosyncratic Eau du Fier the other day, I must have been in daydreamig mode. The mind does tend to work this way*. But it was possibly more than just subliminal.

I had received information that the next fragrance by the French brand (seeking wider distribution currently at the Middle East as per Brigitte Taitinger, after succesfully solving problems with the American distribution) is also called Nuit Etoilée, you see.

Nuit Étoilée is a new unisex scent offered by the Annick Goutal fragrance line; a fresh, aromatic spicy-woody scent in blue-tinged bottles for him and for her (the scent is abslutely the same in both declinations, much like with all the rest of the line). The perfume was inspired by the wildness of nature and the coolness of dusk.  This nightfall, this starry night began out of an image Camille had stored at the little laboratory the French brand has in Paris: "La nuit étoilée" de JF. Millet (1855) on a postcard that had been lurking under the papers for two or three years, hence the bluish tint of the flacon. Isabelle Doyen, the perfumer, believes this is how things work: You're inquisitive, you see things, you absorb them and then they come out in your work, almost by chance. Nuit Étoilée by parfums Annick Goutal is fresh with hints of sweetness as well as peppermint accents on the top while unfolding woodier aspects upon drying down.

The upcoming Nuit Étoilée by parfums Annick Goutal will launch in April 2012

*The name also immediately reminds me of Baccarat's one-time fragrance edition Une Nuit Étoilée au Bengal.

Amouage Library Collection Opus VI: new fragrance

Another Amouage opus to follow Opus I, Opus II, Opus III, Opus IV and Opus V. Yes, you guessed it, the 6th is called Opus VI. 
The composition is an ambery woody oriental, but with a totally modern twist on the amber base that only retains the cistus labdanum from the traditional, times & again honoured amber accord to expand it on aroma synthetics with an ambery profile, such as Ambranum and Z11.

The notes for Amouage Library Collection Opus VI include:
top: Sichuan pepper, incense, pimenta racemosa (bay rum/bois d'Inde)
heart: Periploca graeca, patchouli, cypriol (nagarmotha or Cyperus scariosus)
base: Ambre accord made of ambranum, Z11 & cistus labdanum, as well as sandalwood.

The new Amouage is set to launch in March 2012.

pic via nisha.pl

Viktor & Rolf Spicebomb: fragrance review

I sometimes wonder what would happen if the art of fragrance naming is asked to be, as the French would put it, en clair―to speak in plain language.

     ~by guest writer AlbertCAN

I am by no means chiding the mass launches, for niche brands wax lyrical, too. (Case in point: Serge Lutens Daim Blond ought to be Daim Abricot.) Viktor & Rolf’s latest masculine introduction, Spicebomb, could benefit from en clair. To spell out its proper name would probably look a great deal like this:

Une ‘grenade’ ambrée à la manière de Tom Ford Tobacco Vanille avec un peu de L’Artisan Parfumeur Tea for Two

(An amber ‘grenade’ in the style of Tom Ford Tobacco Vanille with a little bit of L’Artisan Parfumeur Tea for Two)

Of course, the ironic thing with the truthful title above is that a copyright infringement lawsuit would probably ensue, followed by the requisite injunctions and appeals. And how to fit the sentence above onto the bottle is beyond mysterious to me. So, no in a million years. Yet it is probably the most apt description of the scent one could find, for the similarities between the scents in question are uncanny.

Now one might notice that that I’ve put quotation marks on the word ‘grenade’, for although the campaign promises something explosive and daring Spicebomb is hardly so. In fact the bomb motif is really a hand-me-down from V&R popular franchise Flowerbomb (2005), more of tie-in for marketing integration purposes. It’s a handsome tobacco-infused amber dandy with a fair hint of spice, but hardly a bomb threat as suggested by model Sean O’Pry’s tease with the grenade safety pin.

The resemblance between Spicebomb and Tobacco Vanille is truly remarkable, although I wouldn’t call them Siamese twins. V&R Spicebomb opens with candied citruses—or so I call them since synthetic bergamot and grapefruit are tempered further with fruity pink peppers, giving the scent a suave, silken sheen. It’s on the sweet side, though short of the full-on dried-fruit effect found in Tom Ford’s opus. The bouquet is really ho-hum and plays second fiddle to the tobacco accord, which really asserts its dominance after a short introduction. The press-release lists the tobacco as the base note but it really acts front and centre like a heart note since the scent is so character driven, forming a very obvious alliance with vetiver and amber. Knowing Spicebomb’s creator, Olivier Polge, I would bet my money on the liberal use of ambroxan (and even some tonka bean) when forming the amber—and indeed that amber motif is evident in Dior Homme, another creation by O. Polge. The leather and elemi are there, too, although really upholsterings to create subtle dried fruit facets. On the other hand I would say Tobacco Vanille lacks the spicy edge, though it’s hardly a surprise when the name is Spicebomb—what comes with the subtle spice is the real surprise.

Tea is nowhere to be found in Spicebomb’s press release, but the smokiness found in L’Artisan Parfumeur Tea for Two (2000) is fairly evident in the drydown of Spicebomb. It’s by no mean literal, for there’s nothing transparent or soft about V&R, but the spiciness is there—a touch, really—once its presence is felt. To me it isn’t the main attraction, just there to keep things in good social order.

Thus given all the information above Spicebomb is an interesting breed: Considering V&R license is owned by L'Oréal, one of the more conservative cosmetic conglomerates out there, having a mass-market launch based on two niche offerings—with Tea for Tea being discontinued to boot—Spicebomb is a slick take on past creations, almost like a ready-to-wear referencing a Tom Ford couture. Yet does it really take a perfumer of Olivier Polge’s calibre to do such faithful reference? I honestly don’t have an answer to that, and I might have gotten a bottle if: 1) I didn’t have a small bottle of Tom Ford Tobacco Vanille, which I have, and 2) If the bottle for Spicebomb were more sleek, as the tinted bottle looks a bit clumsy in person. Mind you, if I were given a small bottle I wouldn’t mind wearing it from time to time.* But I’m probably not detonating Spicebomb anytime soon.

Viktor & Rolf Spicebomb is created by perfumer Olivier Polge and contain notes of bergamot, grapefruit, elemi, pink pepper, cinnamon, saffron, chilli, leather, tobacco and vetiver. The bottle is designed by Fabien Baron. My review is based on a free sample I received from a sales associate at The Bay, who was horrified by me using Dior Eau Sauvage and promptly quipped, “It’s really for old men, no?” (Thank goodness I’m not buying anything from her.)

*Read: This is not a hint. Do not consider buying me this as a present: and I’m not being ironic.