Jul Et Mad Aqua Sextius: fragrance review

The shady, cloistered Cour Mirabeau in Aix-en-Provence hides a treasure trove of small cafes to challenge even Athens. But it is the seemingly endless array of fountains that belies the connection with my city of dwelling. The palpable coolness and crispness of water spray in the air are solace in the hot summer months, the ivy clad building where Chez Feraud gets its business, the birthhouse of the painter Cezanne transformed into a small museum, the parade of students resting their bikes by the bottle green hitching posts on the street a buzzing beehive of life… A slice of that joyous life is caught in Aqua Sextius, launched by Jul et Mad last March during the Excence scent exhibition in Milan.

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Aqua Sextius is the latest opus by Cecile Zarokian, a perfumer that shapes up to become a force to be reckoned with in the niche perfume sector. I have enjoyed her Amouage Epic for the ladies, exhibiting a gift for plushness that doesn't drag by impenetrable density. Her portfolio includes fragrances for Jovoy, Laboratorio Olfactivo and MDCI Perfumes, and also other even more esoteric or fledging brands which I admit haven't really explored (but am open to all the same!). The latest composition she submitted to the real life binational couple of "Jul et Mad" (Julien Blanchard and Madalina Stoica-Blanchard) who have based their brand onto their real life romance, told chapter by chapter, fragrance by fragrance, is wildly different from the thing I expected before checking out the press description.
Although Aqua predisposes one for "water", my mind reeled more into the "Eau" French counterpart that usually denotes a light and limpid citrus & herbs composition inspired by the time-honored eau de cologne recipe bequest from the 18th century onwards. Boy, as I wrong in assuming.

Aqua Sextius by Jul et Mad comes across as indeed an "aquatic" and if there's one genre which the current perfumista micro- world hasn't quite forgiven the 1990s (the median perfumista's budding years, I suppose therefore dismissed for being naive?) it is "marine" fragrances.
This is mainly a fault of the relative blandness of the blends, the impression of chilling silence before a piercing battle cry (that'd be the 2000s uber-sweet gourmands that'd risk giving cavities even by osmosis) rather than the smell of water bodies and the sea that aquatic fragrances in vain tried to approximate. As a consequence of perfumers not being entirely able to catch the nuance seascape into a predetermined "chord" or "note", a couple of aces up their sleeves became olfactory code for "aquatic", realism be damned: Calone, the smell of cut melon, dewy and too sweet to stand for convincing water but wildly propaged such as in CK Escape; violet nitriles, giving the damp and juicy impression of sliced cucumbers and dewy violet leaves (a successful example in Eau de Cartier); dihydromyrcenol, a metallic citrus-lavender molecule with a side of dish wash cleaner, famously enshrined to public consciousness in Davidoff's Cool water and its prolific spawn. Unless you'd been told (or had been suggested to by images of sea & river spray via advertising and packaging) you'd hardly pick "water" or "sea" to describe those notes. No matter, they're part of semiotics.

The duo of Julien and Madalina (the Jul et Mad of the company's brand name) apparently asked Zarokian for a fragrance that'd replicate their meeting in Aix-en-Provence (the Latin name of consul Gaius Sextius reflected in the later Germanic-rooted Aix): the fountains, the buzz of warm weather insects, the countryside, the romance of Southern France. One tends to forget it, rapped up into the Parisian sophistication perpetuated for public consumption, but France is a Mediterranean country, a significant part of its shores bathed in the azure of Mare Nostrum. But as mentioned above, catching that elusive scent is supremely difficult. Aqua Sextius instead turns to mint and a hint of eucalyptus to give a fresh green piquancy reminiscent of the "city of 100 fountains" as Aix-en-Provence is famed as, a slice of cedar woodiness and musky amber diffusive elements, the "marine" part reminding me of dihydromyrcenol (thankfully sans Calone). "The market has homogenized tastes and the crisis hasn't really changed that; people turn to   what is already familiar", comments Vincent Gregoire, trend watcher and the Nelly Rodi lifestyle director. Maybe is this a reason behind using such a familiar "note" in a celestial fragrance that comes from a niche brand?  It could be. It could also be a personal bet that Cecile Zarokian put herself in for; it's not easy to divest a popular trope of its signs and view it anew. I don't know what to make of it, really but at least I can see where Zarokian is coming from.

The fragrance's shade, an inviting aqua (bit bluer than the green depicted above in real life) that I'd love to include in my summery chiffon blouses arsenal, is one of those cases that the coloring of the juice is supremely matched to the olfactory impression rendered.

High marks to Jul et Mad for offering several options of packaging in even really small sizes for perfumephiles to cut their teeth onto, such as the 20ml black glass Compagon atomiser and the 5ml Love Dose miniatures.

Lauren Bacall: 1924-2014

"And death shall have no dominion.
No more may gulls cry at their ears
Or waves break loud on the seashores;
Where blew a flower may a flower no more
Lift its head to the blows of the rain;
Though they be mad and dead as nails,
Heads of the characters hammer through daisies;
Break in the sun till the sun breaks down,
And death shall have no dominion. "

~Dylan Thomas

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The classy, beautiful Lauren Bacall has joined the ranks of the Pantheon. Her impeccable style and acting, her husky voice, her arched brows, her inspiring and defining romance with Bogie ( her less celebrated marriage to Jason Robarts Jr. isn't less fruitful) have etched themselves in our minds.
Her favorite fragrances, L'Ombre Dans L'Eau and Opôné  (Diptyque) and Paco Rabanne's Calandre shall remind Slim to us. She had great taste. A life lived to the fullest.

Robin Williams: 1951-2014

The first movie of Robin Williams I ever watched was Popeye the Sailor Man. I remember I went with my elementary school English teacher, alongside two boys. And to this day I remember the occasion poignantly, because, first, I absolutely loved the movie (the transliteration of the cartoon into living, breathing beings, that wonderful Robin logo-diarrhea catching me like fly paper does to flies) and, secondly, it was the first time ever I got teased on my growing breasts. Yup, I as growing breasts early on, don't ask.

In 1989 Dead Poets Society (another formative moment in my timeline) was everything I aspired to be: inspirational, caring, eros-focused, unconventional for my students to be. The film remained with me for a long, long time and shaped me, I think, into part of what I am today.

From then on I never really lost sight of mr.Williams until today.

Robin Williams is my significant other's favorite actor. I recall watching a documentary together on the mating habits of dolphins (don't ask). Williams described how dolphins mated in nanoseconds, yet enthusiastically, like we do pecking the cheek, and I distinctly recall how effing tender and playful and child-like his face and eyes looked as he was describing this mating ritual. As if there couldn't be any shadow hanging down because, hey, dolphins are so lovable in just about everything they do and life is sweet, right?

For me, Williams ~like Dustin Hoffman~ will forever remain poised in my mind in that incredibly tender, (deceptively as it turns out) smiling face that resembles a naughty child one can't resist to.
O captain, my captain…

Solar Notes in your Perfume: Luminous, warm and dazzling

"And God said, 'Let there be lights in the expanse of the sky to separate the day from the night...' "
 ~Genesis 1:14

There's no denying that solar power, apart from a theological and cosmic issue, is a potent anti-depressant. But apart from the feeling the rays impart on our Vitamin D-deprived skin sucking them up hungrily and our soul reaching up to feed upon its welcoming embrace, is there anything being triggered in the olfactory nerve of our brains, making us euphoric by the smells recalling summer?

The Doric Temple of Athena Lindia, dating from about 300 BC in Lindos, 

Island of Rhodes, Greece. Photo by Kenny Barker via pinterest

Solar notes are a perfumery trope which has been going for a long time, historically speaking, if we track perfumery's record, but which has been slow to be acknowledged in common fragrance marketing parlance. It probably took Narciso for Her to first admit that the term "solar notes" ("solar musk" specifically in NR) seemed incomprehensible to the average perfume lover, yet it managed to display the feeling of brightness experienced rather well. The name Sunessence, attached to the products by Thierry Mugler, such as in Alien Sunessence, is brilliant in capturing all the desirability of the constantly evolving battery of our small astro-system. Fahrenheit 32 and Escale aux Marquises, both by Dior, even predispose us for the sunny disposition by their very presentation.

In truth, the reconstitution of floral notes which are hard or impossible to extract, such as gardenia, or which have been long associated with the balmy ambience of the tropical climates such as tiare and frangipani, no less so the lush ylang-ylang famously grown in the Comores islands, are full of molecules called salicylates which produce—exactly—this heated, sun-lit atmosphere which can warm the cockles of the harshest heart. The harvest/recolt edition of Amarige Ylang de Comores is but one of them, Mayotte (or Mahora in its previous incarnation by Guerlain) is another one. L de Lolita Lempicka, which proudly wears its solar notes on its sleeve, marries the warm notes of flowers, among them immortelle with its sunny ambience of the garrigue, with a salty sea-kissed skin hint, deepening the impression of a scorching sun where people drink out of ceramics and cut nets with daggers kept in their pockets.

La Plage de Calvi by Roger Broders (1930) via Vintage ad browser 

But the connection between the very real and realistic appreciation of the fragrant molecules in the actual flowers (sometimes unknown in their real form to natives and dwellers of northern climes) often perishes in effect compared to the omnipotent mental association between the scent of sun products and our evocation of summery pleasures. Many Europeans equate Ambre Solaire (and not the more American standard Coppertone with its coconut aroma) with summer vacations by the sea.

The secret lies in the use of benzyl salicylate, a blender with supremely floralizing capabilities which was initially used in sun products as a radiation-blocking substance, a now obsolete sunscreen. But the brand connection between product and scent necessitated that the ingredient be kept even after chem laboratories came up with much more effective sunscreens, a phenomenon of scent and product bond that is quiet, frequent and powerful. The effect of the floral note of Ambre Solaire was beloved for the added reason that benzyl salicylate was also favored throughout the best part of the early 20th century perfumery, giving its decisive tone in such classics as L'Air du Temps, Fidji, Norell or Je Reviens, adding a silky powdery sheen that could be felt more than smelled. The pairing with spicy particles also contributed in the creation of carnation accords, so beloved in the first couple of decades of the 20th century.

Nevertheless, the lineage goes even further back with the use of amyl salicylate as a fixative and a modifier in late 19th century mythical compositions, such as Piver's Le Trefle Incarnat (1898). The clover note (trefle is French for "clover") is related to coumarin (indeed coumarin is often referenced as the at once warm, sweetish and fresh note of "new mown hay") and was routinely used to render orchid notes; interestingly it's naturally found in black tea and rum, which smell nothing like orchids! Today isoamyl salicylate is used as a food additive giving a strawberry-like aroma, which convinces me, as if I needed further prompt, that smells are related in patterns that do not necessarily leap to the eye.

This sweetish note was used in one of the pioneering "sun fragrances" of the 1990s, Dior Bronze, ushering a genre of fresh, smooth, warmish and decidedly hedonistic scents to be used both as a sunbathing accompaniment (containing no photosensitizes in the formula) as well as an evocation of the joys of the beach when not worn at the beach, but extending its welcome. The rest was history and a modern best-selling trend. What is also most interesting is that salicylates play a big part in your favorite deodorant, fabric softener, shampoo or hair spray! Like the hen and the egg question, which came first, i.e. the love for solar notes in perfumes which helped the beachy and warm sunny fragrances kick in or the familiarization through the use of those core molecules in functional products, is a hard nut to crack.

Lily perfumes, so Easter-like in their white splendor with their red stamens, have benefited by a splattering of solar notes, too, to render their bright, waxy smell through, while giving the impression that they're being warmed by the sun and splattered by sea spray in some garden where the nights are clear and you can count the stars with ease. Lys Soleia by Guerlain or Vanille Galante by Hermes are two examples of lilies which take on powerfully vanillic and ylang facets which however manage not to evoke the pleasures of the mouth, but of the sensual abandon of one's whole body. Donna Karan Gold adds an ambery slice, much like the musky L de Lempicka does, to round things and broadcast its message even further, just like good ol' god Helios would have, melting poor Icarus's waxen-glued wings …

Summer 2014: The perfumes I wore the most

I was questioning myself what I have worn most during this crazy summer and why. The tallying up was funny, in an anal retentive way, since making a list before a certain arbitrarily set period of time has come to a close can only be explained by the need to put method to one's madness. But if you're following these pages, you might be just as mad yourself (mad about sensual pleasures, about analyzing patterns and Lacanian subtexts and about lists too), so it might not be too boring to share I hope.

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Please share what you have worn yourselves so far this summer in the comments, as it makes for very interesting reading during my weekend when I'll be by the seashore at a small fishing village no busier than applying Bain de Soleil sunscreens, Mayday by Dior on my lips and Phytoplage conditioner on my hair.

So here you are, my most worn scents summer 2014:

YSL Opium EDT vintage ~because old loves die hard.

Hermes Un Jardin sur le Nil ~ because choosing a fragrance when it's 38C outside is a tall order, one needs something that works for sure.

Neela Vermeira Mohur EDP~there is something about this rosy gourmand musky marvel which keeps me hooked. There is both an eau de parfum (delicious and very wearable) and a diva-like Mohur extrait de parfum version. If you've been scared of roses due to ebullient ones like Paris by YSL or by old-fashioned ones like Tea Rose (Perfumer's Workshop), give Mohur a must try!

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Caron Alpona ~the citrus element keeps it from becoming too dense, the inherent Caron "weirdness" (said in the best possible way) is perfect  when everyone else is in Light Blue by D&G or Aqua di Gioia by Armani.

Shiseido Koto EDC ~one needs something green and mossy without going too green and mossy.

Piguet Bandit EDP ~nothing speaks of too green and mossy like this one. Right when it's sweltering hot and sweaty it performs the best! Very sexy too in a totally unconventional way.

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Tom Ford Neroli Portofino ~latest craze for days when I want to emulate the Ligurian lifestyle, this captures it perfectly. Perfect with a navy striped matellot blouse, drawstring flowing pants and a traditional men's straw hat!

Chanel Antaeus EDT ~ever since receiving a lavish compliment from my man (and a wink in his eye) on this masculine cologne, I have come to rely on it for adventurous nights and promising getaways. Should be keeping company to Yatagan (Caron) and Kouros (YSL) on the shelf for the sexiest androgynous perfume options.

I realize these are mostly "oldies", which isn't meant to imply I didn't discover new things which took my fancy (I did, just look for my Aedes Oeillet Bengale and Serge Lutens L'Orpheline reviews in the posts). But, you see, I haven't yet bought anything more than a decant of the newer stuff, so they should probably be in the autumn list, as soon as the time rolls; à tout à l'heure!

Come on, tell me the things that made you click this summer!