Fragrance & Heat: Allies or Foes?

"Heat enhances the perception of fragrance," says Karyn Khoury, senior vice president for fragrance development for Estée Lauder Cos., who wears fragrance every day. Empirical data confirms this. Heated skin is skin which aids diffusion of smelly components and that includes both those which come naturally to us (apocrine gland products) and those which we put on ourselves on purpose. That might create a conundrum; does our body become "smelly" as in repulsive, or "fragrant" as in attractive? This double-edged sword needs some careful sharpening in order to cut to the chase in the best possible manner.

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Marketing lore has cleverly played upon our most subconscious fears pertaining to smell. The implied innuendo of the much mentioned argument against a signature scent ("after a while you literally won't be able to smell it") is "think how horrible that will be on those around you!" A notion which isn't totally undramatic or unrealistic for the hotter months of the year. Notice too how sly they are into leaving it be hinted, without actually blurting it out: Because if you won't be able to smell it, why buy their product again anyway? It is exactly the perception of our human smell as such an intimate, personal thing, that the fear that the way we project our Homo sapiens projectiles might be repulsive to those around us is founded. It just wouldn't be the same with a visual example, something that can be tested with our eyes (this is why, for instance, recommendations for heatproof makeup products do not fall on deaf ears, like with the excellent one by The Non Blonde); and the fragrance industry knows it. After all, visual clues, illusionists' ones excluded, are unquestionable: either something is blue or it's not. But what is "good" and what is "bad" in olfactory terms? The confines are broader. And thus the perfume sale is sealed, transforming a possible "want" into a definite "need"!

Fragrance wearing is not an opaque layer of smell that stays the same throughout the day, thus inflicting odor perception blockage like it would if you were sitting in a chemical factory working every day to the same effluvium. Apart from the natural evaporation that would naturally occur, heat notwithstanding, fragrances are constructed in a purposeful way so that different elements come to the fore with warmth, friction or simply rate of evaporation of the molecules in question. Usually we refer to this as the classic "fragrance pyramid" of top notes, middle notes and base notes. Although not all fragrances are built that way (indeed, most are not nowadays), there is still a structure even in linear scents that creates a less or more intense scent that you catch whiffs of throughout the day.

Think about it: How many times have you surprised yourself by smelling your fragrance amidst a daily chore and thinking "this smells good"? Clearly, your nose blunts a bit after the initial swoosh, intense enough hence the occasional sneeze when first putting it on, but the peaks of scent are there to remind you of its presence and this nicely varieties with the weather conditions: now you catch it, now you don't; but you're not totally oblivious unless you're performing brain surgery, in which case what the hell are you distracting yourself with sensory stimuli for?

Citruses in particular share olfactory molecules with sweat thus rendering the scents complimentary to a heated body; we just hope it's clean sweat we're talking about! Some of the traditional Eaux de Cologne fragrances have become a classic exactly for that reason.

Guerlain has this down pat with their many excellent colognes such as Eau de Fleurs de Cedrat, Eau Imperiale and Eau de Guerlain, as do Roger & Gallet (their classic Farina-recipe cologne as well as the modern variations on the theme) and 4711 with their uber-classic formula. Goutal's classic Eau d'Hadrien is another hesperidic case in point, as ell as their slightly "darker" (but still quite sunny) Eau de Sud.  If you want to go upscale, look no further than Tom Ford's Neroli Portofino or Chanel's Eau de Cologne. Eau de Rochas used to be a beautiful composition with a twist thanks to a smidgen of patchouli under the freshness. The Roudnitska-authored Eau Fraiche for Dior (from the mid-1950s) was a spectacular case of a fresh scent which stood on an otherwise rich base of moss and warmer notes.

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There are other elements however which can match our heated bodies and cancel out the dreaded "argh" factor of the clammy feeling. Lactones, molecules with a "milky" scent produced naturally in our bodies too as a result of protein decomposition, are also present in our apocrine products and in perfumery these ingredients are reflected in scents reminiscent of peach, apricot or coconut. Some fruity floral fragrances can be nice in the summer, as long as you don't carry it too far, becoming the Pina Colada yourself, instead of drinking it.
Things like monoi de Tahiti, tuberose, frangipani and ylang-ylang might be a siren song from creamy scents loving people. There's the traditional approach of scents mixing lush flowers and suntan lotion (Monyette, Bronze Goddess by Lauder, Guerlain Terracotta le Parfum, Kai etc.) and there's the quirky road-cut, like in Manoumalia by Les Nez or Amaranthine by Penhaligon's; these are both fragrances which literally "bloom" in the heat.

 Or there is the contrary approach; instead of complementing by mimicking, go for the opposite, cancel out by opposing. Powder-dry pitted against the muggy, sharp green instead of overripe apricot-yellow.

Chypre fragrances in general (a family built on the triptych of bergamot-labdanum-oakmoss) is a category which needn't be avoided in the summer. Their place of origin, reflected in their name (Chypre is French for Cyprus, the Mediterranean island) indicates that they were inspired by warm conditions and sunny skies. Thousands of women in Greece wear Aromatics Elixir by Clinique and the trail they leave behind is nothing short of beautiful and weather appropriate. I told you elsewhere that I personally go for Bandit EDP and Chanel No.19 EDT, so I shan't repeat myself.

Obviously you'd need to carefully monitor dosage and way of application, if you're to produce a similar effect, but, what I'm saying is, it can be done. Similarly you can pick chypre fragrances which focus on the drier, powdery smelling and more volatile elements instead of the heavier or animal-derived ones. Beautiful examples include the enigmatic Diorella, the ever crisp Cristalle by Chanel, the sylvan Coriandre by Jean Couturier, the dry as a bone Ma Griffe (Carven), the aristocratic Caleche by Hermes, the bitterish Eau de Campagne by Sisley which ushers the wind from the meadows …


Gentlemen who wear Chanel pour Monsieur, Neroli Sauvage by Creed and Guerlain's Vetiver do so for a similar reason to us ladies who don our more angular fragrances in the heat. The greener and cooly resinous scents (from vetiver, from galbanum, from angelica … ) naturally produce a refreshing feeling without resorting to the cliche of Calone (a synthetically produced note that smells of melon and defined the 1990s thanks to its use in "marine" scents).  Sometimes there's even an electric fizz and iodine rash into them; to wit, Goutal's Vetiver.

Some crisp leather perfumes can also be a great weapon in the arsenal of a discerning gentleman (ex. Gomma by Etro) as can be some airy incense fragrances (Kyoto by Comme des Garcons, Passage d'Enfer by L'Artisan Parfumeur, L'Eau Froide by Lutens). But perhaps the most dramatic shift in an incense scent happens to Etro's Messe de Minuit, an eau de cologne that really assumes its true character in the context of southerner, balmy nights, as it sheds its creepy, cool stony cathedral aspect to speak of hot tiles roasted in the sun and of resinous myrrh.

The game has plenty of choices: Eau de Monsieur by Annick Goutal, Encre Noire by Lalique, Malle's Angeliques sous la Pluie and Vetiver Extraordinaire. Several "fig" scents such as Philosykos, Premier Figuier (L'Artisan Parfumeur) or Figue Amere (Miller Harris) can be just as cooling as "sea notes" but with more intriguing points, revealed only on a hot day (like savory and fruity facets) keeping you glued to the plot even more than the average Agatha Christie paperback ever could.

The heat is on!


Please share your transformative heat-induced scent-shifting tales in the comments.

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 …