Showing posts with label absinthe series. Show all posts
Showing posts with label absinthe series. Show all posts

Friday, April 11, 2008

Break This Bittersweet Spell on Me ~Douce Amere by Lutens: fragrance review

Douce Amère's sonorous name, meaning "bittersweet" in French, brings back memories of childhood with a Prustian rush: the precarious balance of bitter and sweet like a poisonous plant, like bitter sightshade; the smell of danger and dare of a bitters sip coupled with the comfort of a vanillic dessert consumed long after playing truant and getting grounded for it. Or even the strange macaroon-style cookies my mother baked comprising of coconut, dusting sugar and strong ouzo: a recipe concocted in hell, I'm sure, but tasting like a fresh slice of heaven. Bitter food and drink have the perverse tendency to make you yearn for them several years later and this is no exception.

Yet Douce Amère remains one of the most underappreciated fragrances in the Lutens oeuvre for some reason, even though it came out in 2000; 8 years ago, enough time to make its mark and lure in accolytes.

Jean Poiret, a French actor and playwright who wrote and starred in the original 1973 Paris production of La Cage aux folles, is the author of Douce Amère , a comedy written in 1970.
However upon looking around a bit, I also found another synonymous theatrical happening:
"[...]Madame Douce-Amere (Mrs. Bitter-Sweet) is a female Marcel Marceau, whose curious antics and invisible dog take her beyond the walls of her home and into the laps of the audience. Madame invites you to help yourself to her hot chocolate and cookies and then sit back to watch the fun".
~through Theatrehorizon.org

I am not sure if Serge Lutens was inspired by either (or even by the Solanum Dulcamara "nightshade" plant) nudging "nose" Chris Sheldrake into embottling the satyrical and funny along with the poignant. But it would have been interesting to contemplate that he would. His fragrances often evoke heavy costumed dramas to me, with secondary actors in the wings, getting a quick turn on the stage for some precious moments before they disappear like in a Euripedean episode.

Cinnamon fondles the herbal constituents of Douce Amere into submission while the naughtier peppermint-like accents along with what seems like citrusy oils raise their naughty head from time to time in wistful yet tantalizing temptation. The medicinal opening of aromatic wormwood -the plant that gives absinthe drink its green pungency- belies the hedonistic, Epicurian progression into a velvety gourmand meant for gustatory appraisal. Soft, woody accords finish it off in a kiss of sweet departure.

In a way, Keiko Mecheri's Paname is a poor man's substitute for Douce Amère (and the line has been criticized for drawing heavily on the Lutens line for inspiration). They have a very similar start, but ultimately the Lutens fragrance remains more compelling. Paname has a sharper, more astringent tone with heavier sweetness in the coda, unlike the infinite tenderness of the Lutens's base.
The liquorice feel of Douce Amère also recalls a grown up, tipsy Lolita Lempicka after a round of absinthe cocktails; while its sweetness is vaguely reminiscent of the pudding notes of Casmir by Chopard, although much more airier, less clotted.
Unlike many in the Lutens canon, Douce Amère never veers into the amber highway to the orientalised Silk Road and remains an enigma, perched like a Prodikean Hercules on the brink of two roads. Or one party of unrequited love with equal parts happiness and despair.



Notes (provided by Serge Lutens.blogspot): artemisia absinthium, anise, cinnamon, marigold, foamflower*, jasmine, lily, tagetes, vanilla, musk, cedar.

*Foamflower is scientifically called Tiarella cordifolia or Tiarella trifoliata (two separate species within the same genus).


Douce Amère comes in a 50ml/1.7oz bottle of Eau de Parfum and is available through Aedes, Luckyscent, the Perfume Shoppe, Escentual.co.uk and select department stores around the world.




The title of the post comes from the song "Bittersweet" on the clip above.

Clip: Apocalyptica featuring Ville Vallo (from HIM) and Lauri Ylönen (from The Rasmus) "Bittersweet" , originally uploaded by xxtasteofinkxx on Youtube.
Pic Scent of Green by Bolandrotor/Flickr.

Tuesday, April 8, 2008

Absinthe Series 4: Fragrances of Anisic Goodness

Today we continue our project of organising fragrances with anise inspired by one of the herbs that aromatize absinthe and offer a distinction between those who draw upon aniseed and those who explore facets of the chinese spice star anise. The two are not interchangeable:
"Aniseed is a member of the parsley family and native to the Eastern Mediterranean. Nowadays it grows in all warm climates. Anethole is the oil that accounts for the distinctive sweet-licorice taste. Both the leaves and the seeds have this flavoring, which is used in breads, cakes, and confections in parts of Europe and the Middle East, in curry and seafood dishes in India and neighboring countries, in various dishes in Southeast Asia, and as the flavoring of such alcoholic drinks as the French pastis and Greek ouzo.[...]Star anise is the fruit of a small evergreen tree native to southwest China, and now also grown in Japan and Southeast Asia. The plant puts out a small star-shaped fruit with (generally) eight points, and a seed is contained in each of the points. Star anise can be used whole as a flavoring, its seeds can be used as a flavoring, and both can be ground. It is the dominant flavor in Chinese five-spice powder. It has been used in Asia to flavor pork and chicken, in teas, and as a seasoning.[...]Like aniseed, its flavor comes primarily from the anethole oil, but it is considered more bitter than aniseed".
~Through Ochef.com

Scents with Anise and/or Licorice:

*Aimez-moi by Caron: A violet fragrance on a powdery vanillic backdrop, it profits from the slightest touch of anisic piquancy to lift it from the usual.

*Alpine Lily by Crown: Anise leaves over a floral composition, resulting in a fresh and young interpretation. Very "clean".

*Ambre Sultan by Serge Lutens (nose Chris Shledrake): This back to the roots of oriental perfumery legend has the interlay of various herbs, such as bay, oregano and anise which give it a dusty, kitchen cupboard smell that deviates from the crowd-pleaser little ambers out there. Individual and unsurpassed it has been likened to a woman's sexual juices. You have been warned!

*Anice by Etro (nose Jacques Flori): The success of Anice is that it maintains its headstrong persistence in smelling anisic till the very end. According to Luca Turin the heart uses cis-jasmone (which has a smell of fennel and contributes to natural jasmine aroma) along with fennel seed and a macrocyclic musk that also has an anisic ambrette character. Whatever! It's a lovely fragrance if you yearn for that liquor-like note.

*Anisia Bella in Aqua Allegoria line by Guerlain: Another single-minded fragrance that focuses on smelling mostly like anise and a rather pleasant example of the Aqua Allegoria line before all the flavours of chewing gum took over.

*Après l'ondée by Guerlain (nose Jacques Guerlain): What is it that makes this so nostalgic, trembling with delight after the shower which its name hints at? Is it its heliotropin soft powderiness married to melancholic iris like a smooth-faced Ophelia contemplating the joys of the river? No, it's probably what is more culinary and which confirms that reputation of Guerlain as a grand chef of French perfumery: provencal herbs and spices of which anise is more pronounced give a glimpse of the sun forming a rainbow over dewy petals. A 1906 classic.

*Acqua e Zucchero by Profumum: A scent that one would be hard pressed to detect anise, it combines orange blossom to berries and vanilla to render a sweet fragrance. The slight hint of anise/licorice is a welcome inclusion, but the whole is too close to Pink Sugar to justify the price.

*Black Annis by BPAL: In the familiar tone of Black Phoenix Alchemy Lab scents, this is seriously strong and pungent with the eponymous aroma and what seems like catty civet. Part of the Diabolus series with notes of "damp cave lichen and oak leaf with a hint of vetiver, civet and anise".

*Confetto by Profumum: Very sweet almond fragrance with a touch of anise. I am amazed though that it demands such high prices for something that Hypnotic Poison or even Jour de Fete does better.

*Duel by Annick Goutal (nose Annick Goutal, Isabel Doyen): One of the more individual fragrances in a line of limpid and lucid watercolours, it is a masculine with an original touch.

*Etra by Etro: A soft, aromatic composition of woods and florals, very ethereal and rather soapy on top, more shady later on with spice and cedar. The whole reminds me of eating fruity pie while sipping ouzo, which is as strange a gastronomic combination as any, but somehow works: I have seriously mellowed on the fruity note of it, I was much more dismissive before. All those horrible fruity florals out to compare must have helped.

*Hypnôse by Lancôme (noses Thierry Wasser and Annick Menardo): For something that is so obviously inspired by the recent gourmand crop following into the footsteps of Angel a touch of anise is unexpected but not enough to redeem it in my eyes. Too derivative.

*Hypnotic poison by Dior (nose Annick Menanrdo): I recall the first time I smelled it with dread: a spectator in front of me had ruined an exceptional Genet performance in an art-house theatre one evening a long time ago with the cough suryp fumes emanating from her heavy sweater. I had thus shunned it for years. Finally, a litle while ago I tested the eau de toilette in a store prepared to hate it and finally it dawned on me. It's trippy, yes, but oh so good! The anisic touch with the bitter powder of coumarin makes it soar.

*Insolence by Guerlain (nose Maurice Roucel): The old-fashioned take of L'Heure Bleue, merely dressed as lamb with a strobo light on top. Everything exterior belies its contents and I for one liked it from the very first.

*Iris Pallida 2007 by L’artisan (nose Anne Flipo): A woody iris for a very demanding price, encased like a precious vintage wine, it uses anise to highlight the dry softness of the rest of the composition.

*Jasmine de Nuit by The Different Company (nose Céline Ellena): A dirty, spicy jasmine fragrance which mesmerises by its feral power and animalic prowl. It begs to be taken on a date with naughty intentions. All this and a touch of anisic goodness too!

*Jil Sander No.4 by Jil Sander: I always liked this deep oriental from almost 2 decades ago. I don't know why I relied on decants and minis all this time. It projects, it envelops, it brings about questions as to what I am wearing.

*Krizia by Krizia: A great chyprish fragrance that is seriously underrated. A touch of anise with all that cool moss makes it supremely elegant and confident.

*L'heure bleue by Guerlain (nose Jacques Guerlain): The archetypal anisic floral, it poses an enigma for serious perfume lovers: to wear or not to wear? It's an undisputed work of art, very characteristic of both its times and the artistry of Guerlain. However I could never since find the exact formulation that made me appreciate it about 15 years ago. Which is a pity: nothing comes close to what I had smelled that glorious afternoon strolling around the perfume boutiques of my city, with all the elation of my own hard-earned money in my pocket.

*Lolita Au masculin by Lolita Lempicka: The masculine interpretation of the feminine Lolita Lempicka fragrance with a touch of violets and for me even better. It is succulent but restrained in its sugared stakes and it proves to be extremely wearable through its licorice kept in blood-sugar check.

*Lolita Lempicka and Lolita Midnight (nose Annick Menardo): One of the few fragrances in the wake of Angel to leave their own mark. Intensely liquorice-like, herbal in its pungency and with a gorgeous bottle the shape of an enchanted poisoned apple it has become a little cult of its own with a fairy tale advertising campaign. The limited edition Midnight bottle is in darker bluish hues and completely covetable. They also do some of the most darling limited editions sets every once in a while.

*LouLou by Cacharel (nose Jean Guichard): A great underrated overly sweet fragrance hailing from the 80s, heavy on cassis (a synthetic so characteristic of that decade) over plums and heliotrope, it has an aniseed top note which gives it a piquant salty-sweet air there for a second (like those bands of licorice that refuse to budge), tantalising you to smell it again and again. It helps that it evokes so influential feminine icons.

*Mandragore by Annick Goutal (nose Annick Goutal, Isabel Doyen): To me it's not particularly evocative of dark medieval practices of uprooting a magical root under the feet of hanged men. It is mostly bergamot to my nose, although a good rendition, no doubt. A slight anisic touch is very welcome and I can see this being a great choice for warm weather for both sexes.

*Perfect Twilight by Creative Scentualisation (nose Sarah Horwitz) : Violets sprinkled with aniseed. No doubt inspired by L'Heure Bleue and Apres l'ondee, but simpler, more streamlined and ergo less of an art work.

*Pink Sugar by Aquolina: The brilliance of such a juvenile concoction lies in the details. A strong liquorice-like accent on what is basically ripe strawberries buried into the plush of burnt cotton candy reverts one to a mental state of My Little Pony, but if you're above average IQ anyway it will be seen as a terribly clever turn!

*Piper Negrum by Lorenzo Villoresi (nose Lorenzo Villoresi): Mostly strong pepper to my nose with a touch of anise for good measure. It has its fans and I like Villoresi's use of pepper in his other fragrances, but this is too thick for me.

*Poison by Dior (nose Edouard Flechier): A classic oriental encased in a poisonous apple of Cinderella tale bottle, it is greatly responsible along with other usual suspects of so many people's distrust of perfume. And yet it is a grand fruity oriental which uses anise to reinforce the spicy accord which juxtaposes the rich plum, tuberose and the berries and make it an grenade for olfactory amunition.

*Pomegranate Anise Fresh Index: Like its name suggests, two notes, one fragrance. An aquatic fruity with a liquorice touch due to aniseed and weirdly enough a grapefruit top. Index describes this fragrance as 'a crisp winter kiss'. I think not.

*Quand vient la pluie by Guerlain (nose Jean Paul Guerlain): Tied to the tradition of L'Heure Bleue, more than the similarly named After the Shower (QVLP means "when rain comes") it draws upon the anisic floral composition of the former in an effort to remodernize it with a fresh lime top-note on a bed of heliotrope, iris and licorice. Lovely, if a little too sweet for me to become a signature.

*Raving by Etro: Spicy (with nutmeg) and sweet (a touch of coconut) with a salty and iodine aroma which makes it completely offbeat and unisex. It might also make a good substitute for the intense spicy oriental Kenzo Jungle L'elephant.

*Rose d'argent by Rosine: An unconventional rose fragrance with a cool anisic touch and spicy geranium notes over warmer amber. It takes some getting used to, much like Caron's Or et Noir. The antithesis of cool and warm is magnificent to experience, like drinking a glass of water after chewing a cinnamon-mint gum.

*Shiso in Leaves Series by Comme Des Garçons: A trully bizarre, therefore typical CDG scent that recalls mint leaves on which animals have smeared their furry behinds. Cumin and anise dominate after the mint.

*Simply by Clinique: Roasted cereals without being too sweet with a touch of anise-bread just like local bakeries like to make. It was destined not to be a success.

*Tarot the Chariot by BPAL: Inspired by the deck of Tarot Cards, this represents the Chariot, which I am told represents the recognition of Karmic issues. I don't know if I have some of those, but sniffing fruity florals like this makes me think maybe I do. A touch of anise might save my unredeemed soul.

*Timbuktu by L’artisan (nose Bertrand Duchaufour): A wonderfully individual unisex woody with spices and incense, utilising the rare Indian essential oil Cypriol. I like how it interplays anisic tonalities in there and remains tremendously fresh while definitely redolent of human warmth.

*Yvresse by YSL (nose Sophia Grosjman): It's hard to imagine that formerly named Champagne came out in the aqueous 1990s: it's so loud! However among Grosjman's oeuvre, it's one of those who take a classic form (fruity chypre) and give it a modern twist that somehow smells contemporary. If only it came in a more diluted form, it would have been fab! As it is, it needs good spritz control.


Scents with star anise:

*Casanova 1725 by Histoire des parfums: Naming perfumes after historical personages, especially those who have a naughty reputation is a sure instigator of interest for Perfume Shrine. We succumbed and promptly ordered a sample of Casanova, after loving Marquis de Sade 1740 when exploring Leather scents. Casanova is surprisingly airy and delicate with "head notes of Italian bergamot and lemon, grapefruit, French armoise, lavender, tarragon, and rosemary; the heart notes of star anise, lavender, and geranium, and base notes of vanilla, sweet almond, sandalwood, cedar, and amber". Nice...

*Donna by Lorenzo Villoresi (nose Lorenzo Villoresi): A musky rose with a nail products top note, it is strangely pleasant, although a little sour perhaps at times. The musky background is very fetching to me, if a little standard.

*Energising Fragrance by Shiseido (nose Claudette Bernavis): A fresh spice accord that manages to be uplifting and -yes- energising. It's quite nice!

*Fire Opal by DSH (nose Dawn Spencer Hurwitz): One is at a loss regarding the sheer choice of DSH oils and fragrances. Someone sent me this sample and it registered as a gently spicy affair worth of inclusion in this line-up.

*Fraîche Badiane by Maître Parfumer et Gantier: If you want a cool, bright summery scent to wear under azure skies, this is very pleasant. Like drinking cool lemonade while snacking on star anise-flavored cookies after a hot day in the countryside.

*Iris Nobile By Aqua di Parma: This citrusy iris is one of the most elegant around and if you're bored with irises smelling like carrots, you should try this one. The star anise gives just a hint of warmth. I love it!

*Jean Paul Gaultier Classique (nose Jacques Cavallier): Drenched in orange blossom of the synthetic variety that can become cloying, it is backed by copious vanilla and musks and it makes me wonder why it has been such a best seller all these years. It does have a great advertising campaign though, which is so witty as to render the contents of lesser importance to the eyes of the public.

*Méchant Loup by L'artisan (nose Bertraand Duchaufour): A woody oriental for men with the unusual heart of hazelnut, only it doesn't marry it to chocolate to get the perfect Nutella. Which is a shame, if you ask me...A spicy touch comes from star anise.

*Navegar by L'artisan (nose Olivia Giacobetti): A watery interpretation that doesn't go for the usual marine notes. Fresh and reminiscent of the high seas, I could wear this in summer. Notes: red pepper, ginger, lime, absolute rum, black pepper, incense, star anise, juniper, cedar wood, guaiac wood.

*Rive Gauche pour homme by YSL (nose Jacques Cavallier): Purpotedly "a warm blend of bergamot, star anise and rosemary, centered around a masculine heart of soothing lavender, geranium leaves, and clove bud, spiked with modern essences of vetiver, patchouli and Gaiac wood." Now that the feminine is not as I remember, I could make friends with this one, despite its whiff of cigarette smoke. Or is it because of it?

*Un parfum d'ailleurs et fleurs by The Different Company (nose Céline Ellena): I had reviewed it among its sister scents ending on the note that "the whole is inspired by a French style garden which if you know anything about gardening you will know is about submitting nature to man's will; although the moniker of the company is talking about an ode to the virginal purity and the tentative voluptuousness of nature". It's a pleasant citrusy floral with a subtle touch.

*Very Irresistible and Very Irresistible Sensual by Givenchy: For some reason I remain sorely unimpressed with the synthetic rosiness of both fragrances. It's good that the spiciness of star anise makes a brief appearence but does it suffice to save to day? The Sensual version adds strawberry with what seems like patchouli. I didn't need this and neither do you.




Painting Old Absinthe House (1933) by Guy Pène du Bois and Paris Rainy Days by Gustave Caillebotte, both courtesy of wikimedia commons. Pic of L'heure bleue ad through parfum de pub and of Mandragore bottle through Annick Goutal site.

Monday, April 7, 2008

Absinthe Series 3: fragrances of intoxication

In our investigation of how absinthe has inspired artists, writers, as well as filmmakers, we must return to the art of perfumery with its vast ability to evoke reminiscences. Many fragrances have drawn upon la fée verte in recent years and its herbal constituents: wormwood or artemisia and aniseed, as well as its perceived aromas like liquorice and angelica.
Perfume Shrine has tried to organise the chaos and provide a list of scents with the corresponding notes.

Scents with Wormwood/Artemisia:

*Absinthe by Grandiflorum Fragrances: Largely redolent of offbeat anise, with orangey-boozy and woody notes accented with vanilla later on to soothe and appease, it's as if you're reading Poe by a woodfire cuddled up with a loved on to chase away the nightmares afterwards. Certainly not the most authentic absinthe fragrance around, but very wearable.

*Absolument Absinthe by Parfums d'Interdit: Absolument Absinthe has not one but two ingredients with mysterious and whispered about reputations. Cannabis is the second...Together with inky black tea, tangy bergamot, and the bracing note of Iranian galbanum, various white florals and spices such as nutmeg and cardamom, it deepens on sandalwood and musks sustaining its soft message on the skin for a long time. It's claimed that it conforms according to individual personal chemistry, but since I haven't found a willing speciment to try this theory out I can't proclaim its truth or fallacy. Tripy, if only because you want it to.

Here is Pascal Rolland courtesy of dabbler.ca talking about it:



*Absinthe by BPAL (Black Phoenix Alchemy Lab) : In this cult brand's inventory every little dark and gothic tale finds its narrator through the acocmpanying "imp" (short for sample in BPAL lingo). With such great names as Thanatopsis (the look of death in Greek), Golden Priapus, Enraged Urangutang Musk (!), The Pit and the Pendulum, Nosferatu or Saturnalia (after the Roman celebration) and the corresponding Bacchanalia, they have created a very weird and compelling niche; no less accountable for which is their site with a very active forum.
Absinthe is intensely liquorice-like, with a metallic minty top and a soapy drydown that fades fast. Notes: wormwood essence, light mints, cardamom, anise, hyssop, and the barest hint of lemon.

*Absinth by Nasomatto : like I had said when the line launched, this is a wonderful fragrance full of bittersweet notes of herbs, earthy pungent vetiver, possibly angelica or wormwood and some sweet element of vanillic florancy in there that accounts for the most delectable semi-gourmand effect possible. If this is how a modern aromatic gourmand should be made, then I'm all for it.

*Azurée by Estée Lauder : With its rather masculine edge despite its feminine gardenia aspirations, submerged into deceptive aldehydes or cyclamen and jasmine aromas, it opens on dark, musty oakmoss that grabs you and makes you pay attention. In a way though its leatheriness does not possess the striking green slap-across-the-cheek of Bandit or the smooth caress of a gloved hand that is Diorling; resulting in diminished revenue in today’s currency.

*Black Fig and Absinthe by Slatkin (nose Christophe Laudamier) : The treatment of figs is dark, gloomy and surupy like dried fruits smoked over for preservation during the winter months and surely an anomaly amidst usually green fig scents. Quite loud in its fruitiness but underscored by elegant, cool incense and dark wormwood to compliment the intese liquorice effect that first surfaced in Lolita Lempicka. Never too sweet and incidentally Harry Slatkin's preference from the whole line.

*Absinthe by Ava Luxe (nose Serena Ava Franco): a viciously green liquid that might stain your clothes, smelling remarkably close to the alcoholic spirit with a deep, dry anise drydown.

*Absinth by Nasomatto : like I had said when the line launched, this is a wonderful fragrance full of bittersweet notes of herbs, earthy pungent vetiver, possibly angelica or wormwood and some sweet element of vanillic florancy in there that accounts for the most delectable semi-gourmand effect possible. If this is how a modern aromatic gourmand should be made, then I'm all for it.

*Aromatics Elixir by Clinique (nose Bernand Chant): a mossy intense rosy composition that has a bitter beginning redolent of the wormwood plant. I dearly love to basque in its sillage when smelling it on passerbys.

*Azurée by Estée Lauder : With its rather masculine edge despite its feminine gardenia aspirations, submerged into deceptive aldehydes or cyclamen and jasmine aromas, it opens on dark, musty oakmoss that grabs you and makes you pay attention. In a way though its leatheriness does not possess the striking green slap-across-the-cheek of Bandit or the smooth caress of a gloved hand that is Diorling; resulting in diminished revenue in today’s currency.

*Bandit by Piguet (nose Germain Cellier): an archetypal leathery chypre, with the stunning start of emerald artemisia with equally pungently green isobutyl quinoline, a scent to cut your way through a crowd.

*Biche dans L'Absinthe by Gobin Daudé (nose Gobin Daudé) : part of the discontinued natural line by the homonymous perfumer, it is considered the uber-marvel of green scents. It's such a pity that such wonderful creations succumb to the crass marketing laws of commerce. Rarely seen on Ebay and fetching a pretty penny when it does. Don't miss it if you do find it.

*Déclaration by Cartier (nose Jean Claude Ellena): more of a spicy cardamom and cumin affair of refined refereshement than a jade-shaded liquid to make you feel anything but jaded, it nevertheless vibrates in the frequency of a slightly bitter wormwood accord. Delicious and probably one of my highest recommended masculines (or rather unisex) fragrances of modern perfumery. It has been singled out by Ellena himself as the creation he's most proud of , along with First (although this has been a few years ago, on Scented Pages, so we couldn't possibly exclude that a more recent specimen hasn't usurped that position)

*Douce Amère by Serge Lutens (nose Chris Sheldrake): a bittersweet harmony etched in opaline, singing in a warm contralto, curiously not as popular as others in the export line. It merits its own review shortly, so stay tuned.

*Fou d'Absinthe by L'artisan : a masculine fougère vaguely reminiscent of Paco Rabanne pour Homme with a resinous touch allied to woods. Not remarakably absinth-y and although I am a L'artisan fan I'd rather settle for Timbuktu if I wanted a unisex woody mix with resin and spice.

*Geisha Green by Aroma M: According to the creator of the line Maria McElroy who had the subtle sensibility of Japanese incense in her mind, this is an oil with a key aroma of absinthe, the tart, licorice-flavored liqueur. Here the composition os gently sweetened with black currant, mandarin, and violet, and softened with amber and tonka bean.

*Ivoire by Balmain: classic soapy aldehydic of relatively recent crop (1980) with so much primness that it passes for elegance. Its loveliest trait for me is the mossiness at the base which elevates from a mere soapy floral of chamomile, violet, rose and liluy of the valley. Very subtle wormwood touch, but worth including for a glimpse into the Id.

*JF by Floris: Another aromatic fougere for men. Supposedly named after the founder Juan amenias Floris, who was a Spaniard setting up shop in London , although the brand brandishes its British tradition like a coat of arms. Armoise (which is another name for wormwood shrub) is mixed with cypress. Overall light and fresh, with a mixed citrus top note, but rather simplistic.

*Panamé by Keiko Mecheri: No relation to Patou's Pan Ame, which sounds like an airline company. Reminiscent of pastis, an anisic based liqueur, with a soothing undertone of powdery musks, which isn't particulalrly distinctive. Similar to Douce Amere, but not as successfully executed.

*Soothing Aromaparfum in Aroma Allegoria line by Guerlain: A lesser known little line within the brand is Aroma Allegoria, three fragrances in an effort to combine aromatherapy with the heritage of a perfumery that went after the lush and luscious regardless of botanical properties. So it has been understandably circulating under the radar and eventually discontinued. Some might have considered it hubris to aim in that direction. They might have been right all along.
Soothing Aromaparfum has a predominent linden accord backed with vanillic musk and a touch of wormwood to keep things interesting and despite its inclusion in this offbeat list, it does smell quite tender and cuddly.

*Wormwood by BPAL : From the company who loves to lay their hands on everything forbidden, here comes the bitter heart of absinthe as an almost single note. It will provide interesting fodder for conversation if anyone asks, that's certain.

Scents with pronounced angelica:

*Angéliques sous la pluie by Frederic Malle (nose Jean Claude Ellena): rained upon angelicas is the name and the feeling is that of a gin and tonic on the rocks ~deliciously cool and bitter with a refreshing edge just like a cocktail after a hard day

*Angélique Encens by Creed: perhaps the best offering by Creed. Built around the dark green of the strange angelica plant, the harsh green of it tied to Chartreuse it blends the mysterious tonality of incense to the herbal managing to smell like neither ~rather a vanillic wonder of subtle shades like a devoré velvet cloak on naked feminine shoulders.

*Angélique Lilas in Aqua Allegoria line by Guerlain: A true lilac note in fragrance is one of the most elusive things for an avid perfume lover. Here there is a smidgeon of a good approximation sometime into the development of a slightly bitter opening that adds interest, with the shrill addition of the dreaded Calone (synthetic acqueous melon note). If only I could isolate the really good part!

*Angélique Noire by Guerlain (nose Danièle Andrier): As I had previously noted, not particularly "noire", nor particularly angelica-rich, "we are dealing with a pre-Raphaelite Madonna with curly hair and silky robes that is lost in mystical reverie over the impending Nativity or a post-romantic painting by Waterhouse". Angélique Noire fuses the backdrop of a sweetish, oily accord of citrus and vanilla with a rather bitter beginning; the whole is quite pleasant if not the zenith point of the boutique Guerlain perfumes.

To be continued with fragrances focusing on anise and the often mixed-up star anise.




Painting Jeune Fille Verte by Tamara de Lempicka courtesy of eu.art.com and Biche by Greek painter Parthenis courtesy of eikastikon.gr. Clip originally uploaded by dabblerDOTca on Youtube.

Friday, April 4, 2008

Absinthe Series 2: the Green Fairy Muse

Absinthe and its hallucinogenic reputation have contributed to the mythos of it being the drink of artists and poets who harnessed its "lucid intoxication" to produce works of inimitable fantasy. Through these works of visual and written art, the audience can almost taste and smell the bittersweet licorice flavour of la fée verte responsible; the imagery presents itself so vividly as if we are imbuing the green liquid ourselves.
People like Paul Verlaine, Arthur Rimbaud, Toulouse-Lautrec, Vincent Van Gogh, Pablo Picasso, Oscar Wilde, Aleister Crowley and Ernest Hemingway weren't just casual drinkers; they grabbed their paintbrushes and pens in an effort to manifest how the green fairy affected and presumambly wrecked them. Whether the wormwood-based spirit is accountable is besides the point: the tale is a charming one and thus worth recounting, which we will proceed to do.

Among the many paintings focused on absinthe, there are those which place the emphasis on the ethereal fantasy of the muse and her influence on the psyche and those which depict the sad end of the drinkers coming about via regular consumption of the addictive potion.
In the former category, one such masterpiece is Albert Maignan's Green Muse (1865): It shows a brazen spirit, running her fingers through the poet's hair with a naughty look in her eyes, up to mischief. It seems that she materialises through the fragrant vapours of the alcoholic drink, in a haze of anise and licorice, to make the poet eventually succumb to her charms.
Czech painter Viktor Oliva also focused on the fantasy, painting an almost translucent green fairy perched on the table, invisible to the besotted man sitting there but visible to the viewer who perceives that the vacant look of the drinker is an internal eye to the marvels opened up to him through the magic of the fairy.

On the other hand, Edgar Degas chose to focus on the darker side, using a muddy palette with melancholic overtones in his famous sullen woman who drinks an absinthe cocktail in L'absinthe (1876). Interestingly Degas never named the painting thus and the title must have originated through the dealer or the collector. Edouart Manet, himslef an absinthe consumer, went the same route with his The Absinthe Drinker (1858), showing a standing man, top-hatted, in the shadows, with a bottle of absinthe that has been dregged of its contents lying at his feet.
Vincent Van Gogh and Pablo Picasso also devoted copious paintbrushes to the jade liquid. Van Gogh along with Paul Gaugin indulged in heavy absinthe drinking while in Arles, which only augmented the epileptic crises of the former forcing him to retreat to a sanatorium in his twilight years and finally taking his own life. Of course absinthe is not solely to blame: he had been known to ingest turpentine in numerous occasions as well!



But the written word is no poorer when it comes to the green fairy, as we already hinted. The roots go far back:
For the lips of an adulteress drip honey,
And smoother than oil is her speech;
But in the end she is bitter as wormwood,
Sharp as a two-edged sword.
Her feet go down to death,
Her steps lay hold of Sheol.
~Proverbs 5:4

French poet Arthur Rimbaud, rebel child-prodigy and nicknamed first "punk poet" knew the feel of the fairy's touch intimately. In the following verse perhaps an allusion to a secret marriage is infered through the use of the word "chalice".
"When the poet's pain is soothed by a liquid jewel held in the sacred chalice, upon which rests the pierced spoon, the crystal sweetness, icy streams trickle down. The darkest forest melts into an open meadow. Waves of green seduce. Sanity surrendered, the soul spirals toward the murky depths, wherein lies the beautiful madness - absinthe." ~Peggy Amond, American poet
This intense, sensual description of the enrapture that absinthe evokes in the poet's soul reminds us of the olfactory journey which we undertake when exploring the unusual aromas of its herbal character.
His poet lover, Paul Verlaine, already an alcoholic before trying absinthe, died in 1896, drinking to the end. He had obviously repented of his absinthe addiction as revealed in his Confessions, published one year before:
"...later on I shall have to relate many [...]absurdities which I owe to my abuse of this horrible drink: this drink, this abuse itself, the source of folly and crime, of idiocy and shame, which governments should tax heavily if they do not suppress it altogether: Absinthe!"
In one of those fits he had destroyed the foetuses of aborted pregnancies that his -no doubt unconventional!- mother kept in the cellar.

Others were more sympathetic. Whether Charles Baudelaire, this magician of smells, speaks of absinthe in his poetry is not conclusive. He certainly insists on wine and opiates, which he mysteriously compares to something merely named "poison" in his famous poem "Le Poison":
"Yet all this pales next to the poison that flows from your eyes, like a green caress, from those lakes where I see my soul in reverse, where my dreams come in throngs to quench their thirst in chasms of bitterness"
~Charles Baudelaire, Le Poison (abridged)

The rumours that American gothic poet Edgar Allan Poe, whom Baudelaire heavily used as an inspiration, along with his drunkeness was also inebriated by absinthe have not been substanciated yet.
"A Queer Night in Paris" by Guy de Maupassant describes the smells and sensations of absinthe in the streets of Paris and makes an overt reference: "M. Saval sat down at some distance from them and waited, for the hour for taking absinthe was at hand” (commonly named "the green hour").

Oscar Wilde, famous for his sensual side as well as his wit, referenced many fragrant materials in The Portrait of Dorian Gray and wore a carnation on his lapel every day. He spoke of the green fairy thus:
“Absinthe has a wonderful colour, green. A glass of absinthe is as poetical as anything in the world. What difference is there between a glass of absinthe and a sunset?”
and
“The first stage is like ordinary drinking, the second when you begin to see monstrous and cruel things, but if you can persevere you will enter in upon the third stage where you see things that you want to see, wonderful curious things.



Another Brit shared his passion:
"What is there in absinthe that makes it a separate cult? ... Even in ruin and in degradation it remains a thing apart: its victims wear a ghastly aureole all their own, and in their peculiar hell yet gloat with a sinister perversion of pride that they are not as other men."
~Aleister Crowley, through Oxygenee.com

It was 1918, when Aleister Crowley, famous British occultist who earned the sobriquet "wickedest man in the world", composed a lyrical essay on the aesthetics of absinthe. Named "Absinthe - The Green Goddess" it was allegedly written while waiting for a woman in the Old Absinthe House in New Orleans. A lyrical poem, "The Legend of Absinthe", inspired by Greek mythology and devoted to the drink, was found among his manuscripts bearing a phallic symbol at the capital A for Apollo, claiming that absinthe "exalts his soul in ecstasy". {click to read and see the manuscripts}
“Then in 1900 everybody got down off his stilts; henceforth nobody drank absinthe with his black coffee; nobody went mad; nobody committed suicide; nobody joined the Catholic church; or if they did I have forgotten . . . Victorianism had been defeated”
~George Watson Yeats, Victorianism, and the 1890s

Ernest Hemingway, arguably a latecomer to the cult after its 1915 ban who must have procured his through Cuba and Spain, wrote of an evening heavy on absinthe in a 1931 letter:
“Got tight last night on absinthe and did knife tricks. Great success shooting the knife underhand into the piano. The woodworms are so bad and eat hell out of all the furniture that you can always claim the woodworms did it.”
Charmingly punny that he used "woodworm" along with the inferred "wormwood" which forms the basic accord of the green drink!
And again and again he references it: For Whom the Bell Tolls, Death in the Afternoon and in Hills like White Elephants with its controversial, although never bluntly spoken theme of abortion. Jig asks "That's all we do, isn't it? Look at things and try new drinks?" to which the heroine replies that even exciting new things held in waiting for a long time, like absinthe, merely end up "tasting like liquorice". Perhaps absinthe's taste stands as a metaphor for her need for more stability in lieu of their hedonistic lifestyle so far.
"It was a milky yellow now with the water and he hoped the gypsy would not take more than a swallow. One cap of it took the place of the evening papers, of all the old evenings in cafes, of all chestnut trees that would be in bloom now in this month, of the great slow horses of the outer boulevards, of book shops, of kiosks, and of galleries, of the Parc Montsouris, of the Stade Buffalo, and of the Butte Chaumont, of the Guaranty Trust Company and the Ille de la Cite, of Foyot’s old hotel, and of being able to read and relax in the evening; of all the things he had enjoyed and forgotten and that came back to him when he tasted that opaque, bitter, tongue-numbing, brain-warming, stomach-warming, idea changing liquid alchemy.”
~Ernest Hemingway, For Whom the Bell Tolls, ch.4


To be continued with a breakdown of wormwood and anise perfumes


Paintings by Maignan, Oliva and Degas courtesy of wikimedia commons.
Clip of Van Gohg and Absinthe originally uploaded by Vanroe44 and of Green Fairy , based on Léon Spilliaert's painting "The Absinth Drinker" by Adrammalek on Youtube.

Thursday, April 3, 2008

New Series: Absinthe, Anise and Wormwood

Our new Series takes you into the realm of the forbidden and the bohemian, the realm of the "green fairy that lives in the absinthe" and all the terrors and fascinations she produces in art and perfumery. Perfume Shrine has already tentatively shown a glimpse of its bittersweet, mind-altering magic through a music video by Nine Inch Nails a few days ago, which consolidated the idea of devoting a series to Absinthe and the herbs that aromatize it.
To do that, as usual, we take the long road to explore matters in depth.

Absinthe or "devil in a bottle" is a distilled, anise-flavored, high-proof spirit produced by distilling anise, wormwood (Artemisia absinthium) and various herbs (mainly florence fennel, as well as melissa, hyssop, petite wormwood or artemisia pontica, and angelica root). Its name derives from the Greek αψίνθιον, which is the name of wormwood, but is also interestingly tied etymologically to the Greek goddess of the hunt and the forests, Artemis.
In tracing the historical roots, one comes upon the medical use of wormwood in ancient Egypt (mentioned in the Ebers Papyrus, circa 1550 BC).
Hyssop, a usual ingredient in absinthe, is also referenced in the Bible: "Purge me with hyssop, and I shall be clean: wash me, and I shall be whiter than snow". (Psalms 51:7) There is however the hypothesis that the hyssop mentioned, used in bunches for purificatory rites and ritual cleansing of lepers by the ancient Hebrews, is probably not hyssopus officinalis used in the spirit, but a similar plant, capparis spirosa.
There are references to wormwood/la'anah as well: Deuteronomy 29:18; Proverbs 5:4; Jeremiah 9:15; Jeremiah 23:15; Lamentations 3:15, Lamentations 3:19; Amos 5:7; Amos 6:12 as well as the mention of "apsinthos" in Revelation 8:11.


What the Hebrew la'anah may have been is obscure; it is clear it was a bitter substance and it is usually associated with "gall"; in the Septuagint it is variously translated, but never by apsinthos, "wormwood." Nevertheless all ancient tradition supports the English Versions of the Bible translation. The genus Artemisia (Natural Order Compositae), "wormwood," has five species of shrubs or herbs found in Palestine (Post), any one of which may furnish a bitter taste. The name is derived from the property of many species acting as anthelmintics, while other varieties are used in the manufacture of absinthe.
~E. W. G. Masterman, International Stnadard Bible Encyclopedia (Bibletools.org)

Wormwood extracts were definitely employed by the ancient Greeks, who also consumed a wormwood-flavored wine, called absinthites oinos. The latter can be tied to Dionysus, for whom people masqueraded in an ecstatic frenzy during the god's celebrations in early spring. Anise plays an important role in Greek culture even to this day, through the similar preparation for ouzo: an anisic spirit into which water or ice is added producing a cloudy effect and "opening up" the bouquet of herbs.

Absinthe spirit originated in Switzerland, by Dr. Pierre Ordinaire, a French doctor living in Couvet in the 1790s, but it mostly became popular in France. Major Dubied acquired the formula from the Henriot sisters and in 1797, with son Marcellin and son-in-law Henry-Louis Pernod, opened the first absinthe distillery, Dubied Père et Fils. In 1805 a second distillery was built outside Switzerland, in Pontarlier, France, named Maison Pernod Fils. Absinthe's popularity largely ended with a ban in France in 1915, due to its neurotoxic properties that earned it the reputation of a psychoactive drug due to the chemical thujone, a strong heart stimulant present in small quantities in commercial absinthe. However no evidence exists that it is more harmful than ordinary liquer. Absinthe has known a resurgence in the 1990s, when countries in the European Union began to reauthorize its manufacture and sale resulting in over 200 brands circulating, although it is still controversial in the USA.

Although the absinthe distillate can be bottled clear, to produce a Blanche or la Bleue absinthe, the traditional colour has always been green, due to the chlorophyll in the herbal constituents in secondary maceration. Bohemian-style (alternatively known as Czech-style or anise-free absinthe), or just absinth (with no final e) is really wormwood bitters, produced mainly in the Czech Republic and is artificially enriched with absinthin.

Absinthe's notable role in the fine art movements of Impressionism, Post-impressionism, Surrealism, Modernism, Cubism and in the corresponding literary movements has been an inspiration for perfumers, helping them shape their creations and giving breath to la fée verte producing the 'lucid drunkenness' so coveted by artists. It is no accident that it had been the drink of choice for the "damned poets" and bohemians of the 19th century.
As a first tentative taste of the wormwood liquor attests, there is a journey to be had there!
But it is also intriguing to think that the name Chernobyl, the nuclear factory reactor which was responsible for the biggest nuclear accident in history, also means "wormwood", rounding out the biblical prophecy!



"And the third angel sounded, and there fell a great star from heaven, burning as it were a lamp, and it fell upon the third part of the rivers, and upon the fountains of waters; And the name of the star is called Wormwood: and the third part of the waters became wormwood; and many men died of the waters, because they were made bitter."
~Revelation 8:10-11

Ernest Dowson, the English poet famous for coining the phrase 'Absinthe makes the tart grow fonder' wrote his Absinthia Taetra on a trip to Paris. Here it is from La Fée absinthe site:

Absinthia Taetra


Green changed to white, emerald to opal; nothing was changed.
The man let the water trickle gently into his glass, and as the green clouded, a mist fell from his mind.
Then he drank opaline.

Memories and terrors beset him. The past tore after him like a panther and through the blackness of the present he saw the luminous tiger eyes of the things to be.
But he drank opaline.

And that obscure night of the soul, and the valley of humiliation, through which he stumbled, were forgotten. He saw blue vistas of undiscovered countries, high prospects and a quiet, caressing sea. The past shed its perfume over him, to-day held his hand as if it were a little child, and to-morrow shone like a white star: nothing was changed.
He drank opaline.

The man had known the obscure night of the soul, and lay even now in the valley of humiliation; and the tiger menace of the things to be was red in the skies. But for a little while he had forgotten.
Green changed to white, emerald to opal; nothing was changed.

In Francis Ford Coppola's Bram Stoker's Draculathe hypnotic effect of absinthe preparation leading to seduction is set to a mesmerising score by Polish composer Wojciech Kilar. (you can get it here)


The ritual of serving the bitter green liquid is clearly half its charm. The spirit is poured into a glass over which a specially designed slotted spoon is placed. A sugar cube is then deposited on the spoon and ice-cold water is poured or dripped over the sugar, diluting it to preference. Adding sugar is essential as absinthe is extremely bitter and the essential oils so prized can't come out of suspension by themselves. The non-soluble in water components, mainly those from anise, fennel, and star anise, come out of solution with the water addition resulting in a milky opalescence called the louche (French for “shady”), common in other anisic drinks as well, such as ouzo.

Other films focus on the green spirit as well: Moulin Rouge's absinthe scene is inspired by painter and patron Toulouse Lautrec's own habit of absinthe drinking in the historical music-hall of Paris housed in an old windmill.La fée verte takes the shape of Kylie Minogue, talking with the voice of Ozzy Osbourne.
In From Hell Johnny Depp as Frederick Abberline in pursuit of Jack the Ripper succumbs to the charms of absinthe and laudanum (tinctura opii). But its reputation for being an aphrodisiac is what influenced the scriptwriter for Alfie to include it in a scene in which a sexually voracious older woman (Susan Sarandon) introduces the womaniser into both absinthe and a taste of his own drug.
Lust for Life,a film with Kirk Douglas, also features lots of absinthe consuming scenes, as allegedly the drink was at the root of the painter Van Gogh's madness. In Manon of the Spring glimpses of the practice set in the French countryside can also be seen.

But possibly the film which most accurately references absinthe and wormwood in relation to those who actually made it a trademark, the 19th century "damned poets", is Total Eclipse, the story of the torrid, tempestuous relationship between Paul Verlaine and Arthur Rimbaud. Perhaps an unsuccessful film, it holds its special interest for those who are interested in the minutiae of 19th century style and mores.

Adding:An interesting article on modern day absinthe in the US can be found via The New York Times.


To be continued on that note with an exploration of such themes in art and literature and the olfactory pictures they conjure.







Pic of Johnny Depp from film From Hell , as well as label of Dubied Père et Fils courtesy of the wormwoodsociety. Dracula clip uploaded by Richardcontact1962

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