JoAnne Bassett Enchant Parfum: a Brave New Scent review

When autumn and winter weather takes its toll, there is a not so perverse pleasure into getting out the lush florals and the green scents from behind the screen and the books, and in pretending it's late spring all over again. In that frame of mind I spent this past weekend re-testing Enchant Parfum by all-naturals artisanal perfumer JoAnne Bassett.

Enchant was part of the Brave New Scents Project of the Natural Perfumers Guild, which we tackled here on Perfume Shrine a while ago. The perfumer claims to have composed this in a sort of epiphany, or rather "the poetry guided me into what to choose" (A.Huxley was the inspiration behind the project), but I think composing a fragrance with such contrasting notes takes more than just random luck. The happy scent of Enchant reminds me of JoAnne's favourite quote by Ralph Waldo Emerson: “ Happiness is a perfume you cannot pour on others without getting a few drops on yourself. ”. It's no wonder she's residing at Cardiff by the Sea in California. The sunny skies and the lush surroundings around her can't but inspire an embracement of nature, even as she focuses on French-inspired scents with accompanying names recently, like Versailles, Madame Pompadour, Petit Trianon, Marie Antoinette, Josephine, Napoleon and Malmaison...

Enchant is full of zesty aromas, natural lavender with its camphoraceous top note, very lush rose and jasmine on a bed of hypnotic florals. It oscillates between a sweetish, liqueur-like character (thanks to both rose and davana) and woody camphor, which makes it...well, interesting! It's difficult to classify conventionaly, as I smell both herbal/aromatic and floriental elements in it at the same time; it's quite complex, though it's clear we're talking about a unified composition, not a thing that breaks apart on the blotter within minutes (the bane of several artisanal perfumes). Like I said, I get mostly the camphoraceous-spicy scents (basil, lavender, patchouli), the woody murky (lots of vetiver to my nose) and the floral (lots of rose coupling with pink pepper that compliments it, champaca which is sweeter and jasmine which is extra sweet). This collage gives an uplifting effect, optimistic, and I admit that I didn't expect lavender to give me such apositive reaction: usually I find it either too fake (more vanilla than lavender, as in many functional products or "soothing" products) or straight-out medicinal out of the straight essential oils aromatherapy shelf. Here it's neither, hallelujah!
JoAnne talks a lot about how she gave a spiritual twist by choosing the oils and essences that go into it, but I find Enchant Parfum smells good no matter if you're into getting yourself in a pretzel-shape and humming Ommmm as your mantra or not; it just works!

Enchant is parfum concentration (36% compound) and it shows in its projection and tenacity. The photo on top depicts a limited edition crystal blown flacon for the parfum; I absolutely adore this photo taken by JoAnne Bassett herself and the presentation (notice those tiny bubbles)!

Notes for Enchant Parfum by JoAnne Bassett:
Rose de Mai absolute – the May Rose, expensive and rare oud or agarwood, sandalwood, exotic and costly osmanthus, sacred champaca and holy basil, yuzu, orange esences, butter co2, musky ambrette seed, davana, pink pepper tree, and high altitude lavender, the green note of galbanum, sensual jasmine auriculatum, copaiba balsam, vanilla tincture, and the dark and rich ruh khus vetiver, and dark patchouli in an organic jojoba oil base.

According to the perfumer, the oils that correspond to the Huxley quote are:

I want God: holy basil, oud, champaca,
I want poetry: osmanthus,
I want danger: vetiver, patchouli,
I want freedom: orange essences, yuzu,
I want goodness: rose, jasmine,
I want sin: ambrette seed
  
For more info, please visit the JoAnne Bassett site. 
You can also visit her blogs: Aromatic Journeys and JoAnne Bassett

Top photo by JoAnne Bassett, used with permission. Bottom photo by Margot Carrera

May 1st, Lily of the Valley day: DSH Muguet de Mai & Muguet Cologne & draw!

A lucky symbol ~it means “return of happiness” in the language of flowers~ the delicate beauty of lily of the valley is however poisonous (especially its reddish fruit) due to convallatoxine, convallamarine, and convallarine; a brave irony on the part of Creation! Lily of the valley or muguet in French (Convallaria majalis) is a herbaceous perennial plant prevalent in Asia, Europe and the Eastern USA, with characteristic bell-shaped little flowers, hence its other name May Bells. In France it is customary to give a posy of lilies of the valley on May 1st as a porte-bonheur. This is probably why French residing author Edith Wharton chose lily of the valley as the embodiment of her heroine May Welland in The Age of Innocence, as referenced in more detail in our article about perfume in novels.

Indie perfumer Dawn Spencer Hurwitz has launched two lily of the valley fragrances to celebrate May 1st, Muguet de Mai for women and Muguet Cologne for men; or, as the mood strikes you, interchangeably. They're both light enough and delicious enough to be enjoyed by both sexes. The idea began by Trish who was curious about a botanical lily of the valley note and Dawn was set to task for this diffucult project: You see, lily of the valley does not yield its precious essence satisfactorily enough for perfumery! The problem has perplexed perfumers for long, ending up in LOTV recompositions, the most renowned being Diorissimo by Edmond Roudnitska for Christian Dior. Roudnitska even went so far as to grow his own lily of the valley in his garden and stooping to smell attentively the tiny blossoms at bloom and the soil underneath so as to capture the true essence of the elusive flower. I also love the real-life yet delicate feel of Del Rae Debut, incidentally composed by Michel Roudnitska, Edmond's son.

Dawn began by imagining how she would come up with a viable solution and tested several mods, out of which two pleased her most, enough to launch them as separate fragrances.

Muguet de Mai is a complex composition which goes beyond a simple soliflore, as I sense the perfumer was not trying to simply capture just lily of the valley, and which brings back a forgotten ingredient that constitutes the crowning grace of many classics: resinous galbanum with its bitter green note. Lovers of the classic vintage version of Vent Vert by Balmain know full well what I'm talking about: the bracing feel of galbanum, technically a bottom note of slow evaporation, but surfacing at the very top of a fragrance composition can be the thing that makes or breaks a formula thanks to its sheer power. At the same time, it aids structuring the scent, giving a skeleton on which to work: Preening the harsh edges, without totally annihilating them, mellowing the base, giving a citric jolt that compliments it and fanning it on precious flower essences. That is what Germain Cellier did for the Balmain.
Dawn injected her perfume with galbanum to give it the ambience of a truly botanical atmosphere, the grass and earth still clinging to the flower. She also looked into vintages, specifically Muguet Composé (c.1930′s) and Muguet des Bois (c.1940′s) by Francois Coty, Illusion oil, Lily of the Valley (c.1940′s) by Draille and of course Diorissimo by Edmond Roudnitska for Dior (c.1970′s), taking cues from the editions chronologically referenced. From those she's closer to the woodier Muguet de Bois, but she also went beyond that: You can instantly feel this is an all naturals scent, due to the very botanical profile of the flower essences, in which cassis buds gives off a slightly sour tinge, then mollified by the balsamic elements ~rather animalistic, like honeyed thighs~ that sweeten that effect alongside the (perceptible) linden blossom essence. A unique take on May's 1st traditional good-luck-charm!

Extrait de parfum version was chosen (I believe) to bypass the problem of the fleeting nature of several natural essences: The result is a tempered, tenacious but low-pitched scent.

Notes for DSH Muguet de Mai extrait de parfum:

Top: Bergamot, lemon, Tunisian neroli
Heart: linden, hay accord, violet leaf, cyclamen accord, hyacinth accord, orris rhizome, broom, jasmine sambac, rose, ylang ylang, jonquil, lilac accord

Base: galbanum, cassis buds, East Indian sandalwood, Virginian cedar, Tolu balsam, olibanum (frankincense), honey beeswax, styrax.

Muguet Cologne is a different animal, lighter in tonality but at the same time with a deeper, more spiritual feel thanks to the mossy-grassy elements. The two predominant elements for me were the bitter citrusy tang (which I imagined as a neroli-galbanum duet in my mind, a bit Eau de Cologne meets Vent Vert) and the vetiver grassiness undernearth. I almost imagined a faint frankincense in the base, influenced as I am by the effluvium that comes out of churches mingling as it does with the scents of spring. Green is its mantle and green are the dreams it inspires, a wonderful tribute to men's skin.
Muguet Cologne has great tenacity (it's technically an Eau de Toilette concentration) and projects at just the right pitch to be enjoyed by everyone around. I know I sure did on my very own skin!

Notes for DSH Muguet Cologne:
Top: white grapefruit, chamomile, coriander
Heart: galbanum
Base: Australian sandalwood, patchouli, oakmoss, vetiver

Below is pricing information for the two DSH fragrances, both very limited edition.

Muguet de Mai perfume extrait concentration
5 ml antique presentation: $125
1 ml vials: $22

Muguet Cologne
1 oz muguet cologne: $98
10 ml muguet cologne $45
1 ml vials: $5.25

For our readers, I have 2 samples of Muguet de Mai extrait and 3 samples of Muguet Cologne I'm giving away. Please let me know what lily of the valley does to you in the comments and I will pick the winners.

Please visit the other participating blogs for more impressions on DSH's Muguet editions:

IndiePerfumes (Lucy)

The Non Blonde (Gaia)

CaFleureBon (Ida)

Scent Hive (Trish)

DSH Notebook (Dawn)

Artwork by Dawn Spencer Hurwitz, used with permission.

Disclosure: Samples sent directly by the perfumer.

Laboratorio Olfattivo Esvedra: new fragrance by Pierre Guillaume

News fresh from Esxence, Italy, where the artistic exhibition for niche perfumery is taking place as we speak: Talented perfumer Pierre Gauillaume, well known for his "numerical" personal line Parfumerie Générale (established in 2002), and author of the Huitième Art project, created a new opus, called Esvedra, under the Laboratorio Olfattivo aegis.(An Italian niche line, promisingly established in 2009 with the motto “emotional experiences that come to life through our sense of smell").

The name Esvedra derives from within the geographical confines of the Mediterranean sea: Es Vedrà is a Balearic island a mere 2 km off the western coast of the cosmopolitan isle of Ibiza, in the area of Cala d'Hort. The island is a nature reserve, comprised almost solely of limestone, yet considered of a significant magnetic energy in folk lore. Let's not forget that for centuries the western edge of the Mediterranean was considered the end of the world and that sea tales concerning its many maritime wonders captured the imaginations of poets (producing the Odyssey, the Aeneid) and common folk alike.

The olfactory focus is vetiver, but Pierre proposes a new take, as he says: "It's an irregular vetiver, fractalized which expresses a magnetic green facet, sensual and luminous with accents of lemon petit-grain and coriander leaves". He envisioned it as a perfume that proposes a different structure than the classical top-middle-base notes pyramid, as all of the ingredients are truly contained within the centre of the composition. You could call it linear I guess or core-focused.

Notes for Laborattorio Olfattivo Esvedra: Nevenolide, vetiver, petit-grain from lemon trees, coriander leaves, musk.

Esvedra will be available in Eau de Parfum concentration (12%) in 100ml bottles soon. To buy when available watch this space.

Es Vedra picture at sunset via wikimedia commons

thanks to extrait.it for the in situ reportage

Vetiver Series 5: the Straight, the Strange & the Sweet

There is just something about empyreal vetiver that makes it the perfect transitional olfactory module between an Indian summer of bright blouses and the more serious tweeds of truly autumnal weather. Vetiver's shades of green oscillate between the pale jade of cooler citrusy or milky-soapy variations of the note to the subterranean raw umber of earthy persuasions, through warm hazel with the golden flecks of sweet renditions. Sometimes this improvised colour schema is dictated by inherent personalities that emerge like leprechauns out of the flacon. Othertimes it has to do with my own sensibility when I am matching a fragrance to a current mood and letting it take me over the edge of perception.

The cooler end of the spectrum has the zestiness of hesperidic touches that end Cologne-like pick-me-up mode for days when the daze of summer holidays hasn't fully escaped my mind and the rush of the academic beginnings hasn't set in properly yet. The classic Vétiver by Guerlain is such an example, while I Profumi di Firenze Fresco di Vetiver with its bright yellow Sicilian lemons pushes the boundaries of freshness even more ~hard to picture it in cooler weather~ while still having vetiver sing its persistent basso continuo. On the other hand Vetiver by Floris although pleasantly grassy and citrusy lacks the distinction of more bracing compositions.

Some fragrances that bear the grassy root name on their fancy bottles bear little relation to the smell of either the dried roots or the potent essential oil rendered from them. You would expect from Le Labo, makers of Patcouli 24 that smells perversely of tarry leather, to compose a scent that bears no accuracy between label and juice: their Vetiver 46 is cool incense smoke with no root in sight! Patricia de Nicolai's Vetyver buttresses the root with jolting spice (black pepper, clove, coriander and cumin) and lemon tartness to assuage the earthiness in an scent that seems misleadingly labelled, interesting nonetheless. Creed's Original Vetiver opts for a lathery approach which comes and goes like whiffs of a foamy bubble-bath escaping through a closed bathroom door. Although the root is present, the alkaline smell of soap and the crispness of citrus that wafts nicely make this more office-appropriate than rolling on the forest floor after an improptu picnic a deux. When Lanvin decided to ressurect Vetyver L'Homme from oblivion (originally it launched in 1964) they engaged Francois Robert from Synarome who used 10 all-natural ingredients out of the alleged 14 to render an understated, slightly fruity variation that makes me wonder how the original might have smelled. As it is it's not corresponding to the expectations I formed reading the detailed descriptions of the Lanvin site. But if Lanvin's is meak and sterile, Annick Goutal's Vetiver is the other face of Ianus, the non-smiling one. Its iodine ambience with salty overtones puts it firmly into the territory of atypical and thus stimulating.

Direct vetiver fragrances emphasize the character of the root in a straight-arrow way, hitting bull's eye every singe time. The prototype Vétiver Extraordinaire by Frédéric Malle (composed by Dominique Ropion) contains possibly the highest levels of vetiver essences on the market today: it resembles verdant wet patches amidst cobblestones in a Medieval Italian town where students of medicine sharpened their pencils with knives. Route du Vétiver from Maître Parfumeur et Gantier bursts forth with the buoyancy of a surgical scalpel: it almost cauterizes the olfactory nerve with the raw sharpness of its Bourbon vetiver, upholded with a little blackcurrant, lots of patchouli and woody accents. The dark liquid that nests inside L'artisan Parfumeur Vetiver is pure; strong and earthy Bourbon vetiver joined by oakmoss and patchouli in an engaging conversation of earthy personae with the merest hint of hesperides. In the dimuniation of the citrus effect, Santa Maria Novella went one better with their own Vetiver: earthy, strong, especially for an Eau de Cologne concentration, with not a lemon rind in sight.

Smoke often compliments the green side of vetiver with an ineffable elegance. The classic Vetyver by Givenchy murmurs the way a well-bred gentleman of another era might. Sycomore by Chanel Les Exclusifs has a celestial beauty beneath its auspicious smoke rings. Etro Vetiver opens with a strong, earthy, true vetiver note that is dry and straight with a resemblance to the one by L'artisan minus the citrusy top and little clouds of smoke in the background. The very dark-coloured Vetiver from Lorenzo Villoresi bursts forth with less grace, unapologetically and emasculatedly strong, buoyed by bergamot while sandalwood and pepper lend an appealing backdrop that peters out in smoke.

Perhaps the most interesting addition to vetiver for me is spice with its hot-cold interplay which keeps me alert and bypasses the risks of being maudlin. Andy Tauer used both clean notes (such as a composite of lily of the valley aromatics and clary sage) and strong spices sashaying around his vetiver in Vetiver Dance, a composition that is destined to become beloved.

Sweet cadenzas with hints of gourmand delights flank some of the vetiver fragrances that can be shared by both sexes: From the slight sweetness of old-fashioned feminine Kus Kus by Bourbon French of New Orleans, which recalls the aldehydic powdery facet of Ma Griffe to the roasted French blend served with caramellised sticks of Black Vetyver Café by Jo Malone. Carlo Corinto Vetyver is darkish in hue, earthy and aromatic, but with the intrigue of licorice upon twisting the cap which makes it peculiar. Although it might seem like it has some of the sharpness of Route de Vetiver initially, it softens considerably thanks to sandalwood. My personal default gourmand vetiver is none other than the nutty, almost boozy Vetiver Tonka from the Hermessences composed by Jean Claude Ellena: its coumarinic sweetness well tempered by the grassy aroma, it's easy to wear in any weather, thus panseasonal and wafting a tasteful sillage as my arms brush against my clothes. And then there is the majestic anise and sweetly-buttery amber delicacy of Vetiver Oriental by Serge Lutens, an oriental at the edge of foresty that leaps into winter effortlessly.

Last but not least there are scents including a hefty dose of vetiver so magnificently evocative of places and situations that they defy a simple pigeon-holing; you're at a loss on how to begin to describe their arresting strangeness. Onda by Vero Profumo is such a fragrance that has the power to obliterate seasons and moods.

Pic of Alain Delon courtesy of Lilydebretagne/flickr. Pic of Asian forest courtesy of Trekearth.