Ancient Fragrant Lore (part 3): Classicism

Classical civilization thrives on this dichotomy of "the Dionysian and the Apollonian," of Bacchanal chaos and Sun God rational forms, as Nietzsche would have said. Indeed the German philosopher, originally a philologist and only 28 at the time he penned the superb The Birth of Tragedy; Or: Hellenism and Pessimism, explains that it is these two clashing forces that merge to give birth to the classic world, but also those that eternally battle for control over the existence of humanity. And thus this dichotomy, as expressed by fragrant essences used, manifests itself clearly throughout Hellenic thought. […]

The Latin origin of the word perfume, fumare, i.e., to smoke, brings us to rituals involving fumigation and votive offerings. Hesiod in his Theogony stresses "May the purest incense burn on the altars, so as to obtain the favors of our gods."

Alfonso Savini, the incense burner

Indeed the very word incense in Greek (θυμίαμα) comes from the verb thuo (θύω), meaning to sacrifice, originally denoting both the fragrant smoke of the roast of sacrificed animals on the pyre rising to please the gods (the flesh was served to the congregation) and the ritual burning of precious locally harvested—such as cistus labdanum—or imported resins like myrrh and frankincense, their smoke also rising to the enjoyment of the Eternal ones. But scents had a markedly prophylactic use beside their Olympians' appeasing one. […]

In Euripides's famous Helen play, the prophylactic use of fragrant smoke is stressed. The heroine is assumed to have never sailed to Troy but to have been whisked away by the goddess Aphrodite to Egypt and to its ruler Theoclymenus, sworn to her safekeeping. News from the exiled Greek soldier Teucer, washed upon the shores of Egypt, that Menelaus never returned to Greece from Troy and is presumed dead, puts Helen in the perilous position of being available for Theoclymenus to marry. She consults the prophetess Theonoe, sister to Theoclymenus, to find out Menelaus' fate. Theonoe purifies the air of the altar by having the servants burn sulfur and resins, conjuring shadows and images to tell her of her husband's impending return.

On the other hand the philosophical treatment of olfactory excess as a sign of decadence and deviation from the path of a free civilian is palpable through the texts of the classical authors. The Athenian statesman Solon, adored by his fellow citizens for alleviating the accumulated debts of formerly free land owners that had lost their land and freedom to the greedy lending gentry (the famous seisachtheia regulation) tried to ban perfume use altogether. He considered it represented the corrupt—and ethnically dangerous—lifestyle of Persia, Greece's (and for that matter Europe's, since Greece was the critical gateway to gain passage to the continent) prominent enemy.

The article in its entirety can be read on Fragrantica.

Summer Love Potions

Imagine sipping on a cocktail that tastes just as sexy as your favorite perfume smells. Combine your scent with your drink as an unforgettable aphrodisiac pair. The scent: Safran Troublant, by L'Artisan Parfumeur THE DRINK: 1 ½ oz Dry Gin, ¾ oz saffron and vanilla bean syrup, ½ oz fresh lemon juice, Rosé champagne, White rose petal.

Read on this link to see how Mindy Yang of MiN New York’s apothecary and cocktail architect, Yusef Austin, created delicious, drinkable counterparts to five seductive perfumes.

Vintage Advertising Champions: Let Them Talk (Coty Sophia)

The first "real" celebrity perfume is probably Sophia by Coty, issued in 1981 after the persona of Sophia Loren, Italian superstar and Hollywood legend to give many a run for their money. No Liz Taylor, you ask? Elizabeth Taylor's white Diamonds and Catherine Deneuve's erstwhile Deneuve perfume deal with Avon (1986) historically follow Sophia. I'm not counting the (semi-promotional) claims by Creed or the historical figures like Empress Josephine (for Guerlain's Eau Imperiale) or Sarah Bernard who had a penchant for cosmetics anyway; their commissions didn't come across as "product" till very recently,  in essence ~pun notwithstanding~ negating the very concept of "celebrity scent" (aka, jus and packaging produced to harness the power of a fan club into strengthening a person's "brand").

If you're curious about these little fragrance trivia you can check out an interesting timeline for the Celebrity Fragrances Craziness History on this link.  And if you're not, it's still sort of fascinating to find out that Loren apparently had such a big following in America that the giant Coty was interested in promoting a fragrance after her!

But my focus today is the print ad. I mean, wow! Doesn't it give you that nudge, nudge,wink wink to go out and try out Sophia because it's everything that prim little "old ladies" with sour lips (yeah, I know!) wouldn't approve of? Please note that by 1981 Loren was no spring chicken herself, proudly displaying her 47 years of age (All the more so since back then 40s was most definitely not the "new 30s", we've come a long way baby…). Far from the feminist issue it appears on first glance, this little fact gives nuance.

A mature woman that probably sports some serious eyeliner,   a good smattering of blush, some flesh-toned lipstick not to divert from her gorgeous almond eyes and a good ol' hair spray cloud (before "product" became standard code for hair gels & mousses). And one who pretty much has caught her man and kept him too; not for lack of admirers, it is most convincingly hinted at. That sex appeal of Sophia is always on the surface but done in a classy manner (ms.Loren never gave cause for press scandals). The wording of the ad text lets us feel that sex appeal is OK (transcribed in its humanity rather than its outré reputation, as further consolidated by the crying & laughing bit) and that it's maybe only small minds of a dowdy, spinsterly nature that condemn it as such. Therefore, non sensical, negligible… The grace of the cultural divide is there too. Exotic, European actresses (and ladies from abroad in general) have always had a greater leeway with American audiences. Maybe partaking in their fragrance could impart a bit of this non mi interessa to their suburbia existence.

A case study for sociology and for perfume advertising.

Granizado de Limon: Andalusia in a Glass

Throughout Granada and Seville in arid southern Spain there are tiny shops and street sellers peddling their icy cold wares to thirsty travelers. Among them the crisp granizado de limon is probably the most refreshing, the tart and juicy flavor trickling down the throat with the deep "aaaaah" of genuine relief. If you have a drop of vodka added the "aaah" factor increases (I'll save the limoncello recipe for another day to share with you). 

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These past few days have been so hot that the granizados de limon have been numerous around here, though not all alcoholic of course. In a moment of sharing I unearthed this home recipe for granizado: you'll need 1 kilo of fresh, heavy for their size lemons, 1 kilo of water, 1/2 kilo of sugar and some caramel color. You can see the rest on the video. The drink also goes great with ginger or mint leaves. 

Maison Francis Kurkdjian Les Pluriels Masculin and Feminin: fragrance reviews

This coming September star perfumer Francis Kurkdjian is launching a duet of scents, Feminin and Masculin in Les Pluriels, for his eponymous brand. I have sampled both and have lived to tell the tale, which is a good one, if not highly original (even within his private niche line). The story is just published on Fragrantica, more of which below, and you're welcome to comment either there or here.

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Basically Kurkdjian isn't traitorous to what he sets out to do, he considers perfumery more of an artistic craft than high art and believes in the concept of the fragrance wardrobe; his brand is meant to have something for every occasion (for the light "cologne" type for morning to the lush out animalics for intimate soirees) , so the newest diptych fits there comfortable. The bit that is perhaps more difficult to catch is the "eternal feminine" and "eternal masculine" he sets out to accomplish; tall order, especially because no one seems to agree on set parameters on those. After all, it's all a matter of semiotics, external signs for easy communication of a desired message and men and women are just themselves ~men and women. They're not defined by the jodhpurs they choose, the T-shirt and its bow neck or V-neck skimming breasts or not. They're not defined by the cut of their jeans (see "boyfriend's jeans"). They're not even defined by their added fragrance (read our Gender Bending Fragrances article if in doubt).

Feminin Pluriel has a very distinct progression like the passage of colors in the arc. The carrot impression of the iris hits you first, welcome solace from the overdone pink grapefruit /pink pepper or so much modern juice out there, setting the motion for the violet which follows on the skin very very soon. This note, a ubiquitous and perfect complement to both the rooty iris and the woody notes to follow, seems to meld into jasmine and a honeyed abstract orange blossom (reminiscent of its fore-bearers), comprising the main dish. This is further floralized by benzyl salicylate, a very popular ingredient boosting the "solar," luminous aspects of a scent. The cascading of the notes is so noticeable and so distinct that it's as if one ticks off the notes off a list or is watching a race course with the runners passing the baton to one another. Kurkdjian is no stranger to iris-violety things, given a sheer and non-powdery spin, lifting them from their traditional greyish mauve plumage befitting a solemn occasion via cheerful accents; witness his Iris Nobile for Acqua di Parma, surely the most optimistic and light-hearted iris floral out there.

The woody musky backdrop in Feminin Pluriel is engulfing a rose-citrus molecule (indeed, geraniol which has facets hinting at bergamot, rose, other citruses and carrot —the analogue of iris—so it all fits together, hand in glove) and feels as smooth and indefinable as the base in his rose-centered "nouveau chypres" (modern Rumeur, Guerlain Rose Barbare, Rose de Siwa and less so in the less rosy ones such as Narciso for Her and Elie Saab Le parfum). It fits his canon! Picture perfect pretty, in a (public side) Grace Kelly sort of style, maybe too pretty for its own good.

You can read my full review on this link.

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Regarding Masculin Pluriel, I feel a clear progression from smoky, lightly citrusy vetiver to lavender fougère and on to leathery-smelling patchouli. It's as if the man you wake up to (after a romp in the sheets) jumps up to wash and groom to go to the office and have his "power meetings" before heading out to a private club in the evenings to indulge in a little light S&M, yourself included or not. Schizophrenic? No, just multi-layered, shadow and light, like people are, in fact. Ironic too, because the cleanness of Masculin Pluriel is overreaching like a giant fig leaf hiding the family jewels. The coolness of lavender in Masculin clutches itself to the cooler aspects of patchouli (both sharing a minty facet) echoing one another. It's also a balanced bittersweet fragrance (not sweet like Le Male); one would be fooled to think it's only plush and lush and shaven to a glistening six-pack fit for a glossy magazine…

Although not a chest-thumping kind of a scent (nor an animalic-smelling Jicky full to the brim with civet), the spicy-metallic roughness of a more traditionally rugged mien in Masculin hints at a guy who doesn't shave said pectorals and dons the occasional leather trousers that have seen some wear and tear.

You can read my full review on this link.