Baruti Nooud: fragrance review

 Nooud started with the spermatic idea by Spyros Drosopoulos, creative force behind the Dutch-based Baruti niche brand, of getting inside the construction of oud bases, used widely in the perfume industry these days, and searching for his own formula, his own truth. In this journey he stumbled upon the notion of nude, of skin, of bareness; and so from oud and nude evolved...Nooud!

 via

If it also suggests there is no actual oud in it, it's because there isn't. Hence the magic of the illusion.

The Nooud fragrance remains the brand's best-seller, which is understandable, due to the wide demand for sensuous oriental scents for niche audiences all over the world nowadays. It feels like it's full of ambrette, or the musky odorants in its core at least, and it's truly compelling, poised between attractively bitterish botanical and skin-warm indulgent like the finest suede. 

Although aimed at those who would be welcoming the idea of an oudh, burning Bakhour, I can definitely recommend it to people who love unsweetened musks. I can very well see how it's the best-seller!

Vetiver Racinettes by Ayala Moriel: fragrance review

It's always wise when exploring a certain material to come to the source. In the case of vetiver, the natural essences themselves. And what better way of discovering the exciting facets of unadulterated vetiver than going the natural way? Natural perfumers have long been maligned because they have been erroneously mixed up with aromatherapists whose higher priority is rather to provide healing than sensory pleasure. Their compositions have been called "invertebrae" and accused of having "the bone structure of a sea cucumber". But natural perfumers are not interested in effect before beauty, any less than traditional perfumers are, nor do not they target the fadish hoi polloi, unlike some of the latter. Instead they produce small batches that aim at the discerning consumer who seeks an almost alchemical path to olfactory revelation and the intimate knowledge of raw materials. "This is how pepper really smells like", you exclaim as you sniff tentatively; "here is a twist of ambrette seeds and what are they anyway?" you progess with entusiasm. "Hey, is that how natural ambergris really smells like? Wow!".

In this path of discovery and thanks to the wonders of the Internet I came across Ayala Moriel who has been producing her small artisanal line of natural perfumes for some years now.
Gigi has been her latest gardenia soliflore which I reviewed some months ago, while Sahleb reminded me of the sweet milky drink of the streets of Istanbul. On another vein, Film Noir has been my idea of a perfect deep and dirty patchouli ever since I first tried it. Which brings us to today's fragrance: Vetiver Racinettes.

Vetiver came prominently to the fore a few years ago in a roundabout way: Perfume houses were starting to significantly lower oakmoss levels to conform with European restrictions, often replacing it with vetiver and patchouli as a base in the new "modern chypres."
Ayala Moriel has been an inquisive soul which takes her craft seriously and in tandem with her own personal needs she began a Sir Richard Burton exploration into the uncharted territories of vetiver creation .

As she confessed for us this was part a personal journey :

"Last year, I had a deep need for [vetiver's] therapeutic qualities and cooling effect and I have become aware of vetiver's many virtues and its particular connection to the well being of the people and the planet in present day. Vetiver is a purifying, sacred root with a woody aroma, and in many ways I feel that it takes on a similar role that was once reserved to sacred woods such as sandal and oud. One thing lead to another, and after 4 different vetiver versions, I have finally arrived at a destination that I have never quite planned to find - my very own signature vetiver scent: Vetiver
Racinettes".

Vetiver Racinettes thus fleshes out the rooty aroma of vetiver into a summation and recapitualtion of all the aspects which caught Ayala's interest in her route to vetiver exploration. After going through a spare mod (Vetiver Blanc), one with the baked earth note of Attar Mitti (Wylde Vetiver), and another with coffee (Vetiver Noir), she arrived at the spicy amalgam which is Vetiver Racinettes.
Racinette comes from the French, code name for root beer and it is indeed the reminiscence of it which Ayala utilized: the earthy feel of "thousand rootlets in deep dirt with the sweetness of refreshing root beer".

Vetiver Racinettes combines both peppery and sweet spices, of which I perceive cardamom more prominently, allied to the musty, pungent aroma of the roots. The cardamom touch recalls a similar treatment in Déclaration for Cartier, in which the spice is evoking a refreshing drink with a tangy citrusy bite above the vetiver. Here the citrus tang comes from Kaffir Lime leaf, a succulent note which is especially perceptible in the heat of summer after the first few minutes on the skin as well as the fresher feel of Haitian vetiver which is the prominent note in Guerlain's classic Vétiver.
The opening of the fragrance is quite intense with the mustiness of vetiver roots in primo piano singing both overture and aria while a metal gong is echoing, while as it melds on the skin slowly, the lime leaf, cardamom and a sweet vibe like licorice are appearing like supporting actors from the wings rounding it out and providing comfort.
Vetiver Racinettes smells at once woody and orientalised: the cooling feel of water drunk from a clay pot, its muddy bitterness still perceptible, the secret fire of spice and the intimate touch of sweet and mushroomy-earthy notes which last very well.

Notes:
Top: Black Pepper, Fresh Ginger, Cardamom, Kaffir Lime Leaf
Heart: Haitian Vetiver, Nutmeg Asbolute, Coffee, Spikenard
Base: Ruh Khus*, Indonesian Vetiver, Vetiver Bourbon, Attar Mitti (baked earth), Tarragon Absolute, Cepes.

Vetiver Racinettes is a limited edition fragrance that will be available throughout Summer 2008. Advance orders are available through the website and will be shipped on a first-come first-serve basis.
The fragrance is available in 9ml parfum extrait(alcohol based)flacon ($110), Perfumed Pendant($125)with an option of refill, 10ml perfume-oil(jojoba based)in roll-on bottle($130) and 5ml perfume-oil roll-on bottle($65).

Ayala was gracious enough to offer 10 free samples for Perfume Shrine readers (normally these retail at 8$ each!): contact Ayala with codename "Perfume Shrine Vetiver Racinettes" to get your sample now!

Pic of Vetiver Racinettes, vetiver roots, nutmeg and cardamom pods by Ayala Moriel used with permission.

*Rhus Khus is produced in the north of India, distilled from wild-growing vetiver. Untypically blueish green in shade due to its being distilled in copper cauldrons, the traditional way. For more on vetiver varieties, read here.

Jasmine Series: part 2 ~the role of jasmine in perfumery

As we examined previously, jasmine is an integral part of most fine perfumes’ bouquet and the varieties used render their own specific variables to the end result. 
But why is jasmine so prized over other natural or synthetic essences? And why is it a staple of perfumery as contrasted with what the great perfumer Jean Carles termed “accessory notes”? Finally: can it be replicated?

To quote master Edmond Roudnitska in his essay The Art of Perfumery: “It is the natural product par excellence”.
There isn’t a composition that does not benefit from its inclusion as it marries well with all the other essences: it blends with everything and lends a heart-achingly beautiful tinge to everything it touches. 


Jasmine as a note and component in fragrance composition
Jasmine is a middle note in perfume composition, meaning it evolves in the heart stages of development on the skin which makes it tenacious enough to anchor top notes and swift them to its own trail, yet fresh enough to not outstay its welcome leaving behind its fragrant remnants subtly. Middle notes impart warmth and fullness to blends and they embody passion. It is no coincidence that they are called “heart notes”. They bridge the distance between deep, somber base notes and sharper, fleeting top notes.
To make this more scientifically correct we revert to Septimus Piesse’s system of olfactory octaves, on which W.A. Poucher elaborated in 1923, giving each note a specific “pitch” on the olfactory scale from 1 to 100. In this system 1-15 are top notes, while 16-69 are middle notes and 70 to 100 are bottom notes. Of course several ingredients share perhaps the same number in the scale. It so happens that jasmine absolute is marked as 43 in this system, along with tuberose and rose.
In evaluating the various unusual combinations between notes, jasmine has a particularly successful effect to the following notes: roman chamomile, coriander, geranium (which has a rosy dry out to it), spearmint, and of course rose and bergamot with latter which it forms the most classic accord of most grand feminine perfumes of history.

Jasmine absolute is rendered through this process nowadays:

“Flowers are placed on racks in a hermetically sealed container. A liquid solvent, usually hexane, is circulated over the flowers to dissolve the essential oils. This produces a solid waxy paste called a “concrete”. The concrete is then repeatedly treated with pure alcohol (ethanol) which dissolves the wax and yields the highly aromatic liquid known as an absolute. This method is also used for extracting resins and balsams and for rendering the animal essences, such as civet, musk ambergris and castoreum”

(source: Mandy Aftel, Essence and Alchemy)

Absolutes are more lasting and concentrated than simple essential oils and have a highly intense and fine odour profile. Therefore they are the most expensive perfumery ingredients.
In jasmine the concrete is also very useful, a solid reddish-orange wax, mellow in tone that can be used for adding smoothness and florancy to many blends.

As an aside, for those bent on acquiring some of the best jasmine absolutes and concretes, the following address is recommended:

Coimbatore Flavors and Fragrances
5/82 Palanigoundenpudur
K.Vadamadurai Post
Coimatore 641017
India

You can also contact aqua-oleum which is an aromatherapy site for essential oils, available in small quantities, run by a renowned aromatherapist.

Headiness, Indoles, Living Matter and other stuff on Jasmine
Jasmine’s inclusion in the white floral category of fragrances especially is almost self-evident. Tuberose, ylang-ylang, gardenia (synthetic, because the flower does not yield a satisfactory oil for perfumery) and orange blossom marry with jasmine to produce intensely narcotic and exotic perfumes that capitalize on the sultry image of those blossoms and make our head spin.
The magic of this headiness is indol/indole, referenced also in our Orange Blossom Series, a matter that is also found in human feces and which according to Paul Jellineck “reminiscent of decay and feces, lends orange blossom, jasmine, tuberose, lilac and other blossoms that putrid-sweet, sultry intoxicating nuance that has led to the sum of these flowers and of their extracts as delicate aphrodisiacs, today as in the past”. This is the reason why many people find jasmine animalic and difficult to stomach in large quantities in their perfumes, as they perceive a dirty note to it that repels them. In isolation, indole smells moth-ball-ish, camphor-like rather than poopy. 
A notable example is the majestic A la nuit by Serge Lutens for Palais Royal de Shiseido, in which all the aspects of natural jasmine from bud to rot are displayed like the faceted profile of a precious gem. A jasmine for die-hard jasminophiles. The use of many different kinds of jasmine from Egypt, Morocco, and India are all contributing to giving it richness beyond that of a simple soliflore, intensified by clove, honey and benzoin.
It is interesting to note that indole cannot be synthesized successfully, as the synergistic effect of different constituents is lost. In similar attempts at the lab an unpleasant dominant fecal tone surfaces which makes it very hard to manipulate in an artistic composition. In nature there are minute amounts of materials that despite their exceedingly low percentage in the total of an essence they play a decisive role in the character of the entire complex.

In this regard we may also turn our attention to the most intriguing fact that natural essences, among them jasmine absolute, do photograph in Kirlian Photography, denoting possession of life essence or life force. Semyon Kirlian was a Russian electrical technician who in 1939 discovered a technique of taking pictures by means of electricity. His technique has been widely known as the photography of auras: the life energy that surrounds all living matter. The method uses a photographic paper or film atop a metal plate whereupon the object is placed. A high voltage current is then applied which records the energy field appearing as a bright halo around the object. Living flowers have brighter auras while as they deteriorate and rot the halo diminishes. It is intriguing to note that essential oils do photograph using the Kirlian method with different results according to the description of the olfactory profile of each: sharp, bright, heavy or soft and so on. So the claim of Roudnitska that jasmine is a natural per excellence which we quoted at the beginning of this article makes great sense. And it also bodes with Robert Tisserand’s dictum that natural essences “have a life force, an additional impulse which can only be found in living things”.
Jean Garnero, a Grasse chemist has this to add:

“Despite all the crises, all the economic challenges, all the competition from synthetic products, the perfume of jasmine flower remains one of the essential elements and sometimes the main pillar in the structure of the greatest perfumes”.

French & specifically Grasse Jasmine: Which Perfumes Contain it?
You will often hear brandished the term "French jasmine" as a denoting of superior quality. Grasse after all has been made famous thanks to its natural products, jasmine out of which is most notorious. The cultivation of the jasminum grandiflorum variety came from the Arab trade route. The Grasse jasmine is sweeter than most and more refined than the bulk of commercial jasmine essence that comes from Egypt (more than 3/4 of the total production comes from this area), India, Morocco and India (where jasminum sambac is the traditional product).
Due to extreme costs to obtain this precious extract only a few companies have been able to use Grasse jasmine in their perfumes. This traditionally included Chanel (who use Grasse jasmine in their extrait de parfum of No.5 and the rest of their jasmine-listing extrait de parfum fragrances) and who have bought their own fields of jasmine and tuberose in the region of Grasse, Jean Patou (who includes Grasse jasmine in Joy and 1000) and till a decade ago approximately this was also the case for Guerlain as well (who used Grasse jasmine in their classics, such as Mitsouko, L'Heure Bleue, Apres l'Ondee, and Shalimar extraits de parfum), but not anymore.

Replicating jasmine in perfumes

Ylang ylang, whose name means Flower of flowers, is generally termed “poor man’s jasmine” because its odour profile is not distanced from that of jasmine and indeed it has been used in many perfumes to back up the tonalities of jasmine, as it is so much less expensive yet still very beautiful: suave, sweet, persistent, creamy.
It makes a very pronounced appearance in such perfumes as the rich ambery orientals Obsession and Moschino original, Samsara ~ backing up the big beat of the jasmine-sandalwood accord, Tabu, Loulou, Organza, surprisingly Aromatics Elixir beneath all the mossy earthy elements, Kenzo Jungle, Escada by Margaretha Ley, Amarige, Giorgio, Quelques Fleurs by Houbigant, 24 Faubourg (in conjunction with jasmine sambac), and of course Chanel no.5 and Bois des Iles.
Ylang Ylang also has several grades of quality, first, second and third renderings of the oil, much like the production of jasmine tea that we described on our previous article.

Hedione or dihydrojasmonate, as previously mentioned, is an aromachemical that is often used in composition in substitution for jasmine absolute, but also for the sake of its own fresh and green tonality.
It lacks the clotted cream density of natural jasmine, recalling much more the living vine and for that reason it is considered a beautiful material that offers quite a bit in the production of fine perfumes. Perfumer Lyn Harris, of the brand Miller Harris and also the independent nose behind many well-known creations not credited to her name calls it “transparent jasmine” and attributes to it the capacity to give fizz to citrus notes much “like champagne”. (see? it’s not only aldehydes which do that!)

First used in the classic men’s cologne Eau Sauvage, composed by Edmond Roudnitska in 1966, it had been isolated from jasmine absolute and went on to revolutionize men’s scents with the inclusion of a green floral note. It was so successful that many women went on to adopt it as their own personal fragrance leading the house of Dior to the subsequent introduction of Diorella in 1972, composed by the same legendary nose, blending the green floral with hints of peach, honeysuckle, rose and cyclamen in addition to the herbal citrusy notes of the masculine counterpart, all anchored by a base of cool vetiver, patchouli and oakmoss, lending a mysterious, aloof and twilit air to women who went for it.
Ten years after its introduction to perfumery, in 1976, it was the turn of Jean Claude Ellena to coax hedione in a composition that exploited its fresh and lively character to great aplomb in the production of First by jewelry house Van Cleef & Arpels (the name derived from the fact that it was their first fragrant offering, but also the first scent to come out of a jeweler too ~subsequently many followed in its tracks with notable success). In it, Ellena used 10 times the concentration of hedione used in Eau Sauvage, married to natural jasmine as well as rose de mai (rosa centifollia, which is also a crystalline variety), narcissus, orris, ylang ylang and a hint of carnation with the flying trapeze of aldehydes on top and the plush of vetiver, amber and vanilla at the bottom which accounted for a luminous and luxurious floral.

Hedione also makes a memorable appearance in many other perfumes, such as the classic Chamade by Guerlain (introduced in 1969), Chanel no.19 (1970) and Must by Cartier (1981) and in many of the modern airy fragrances such as CKone, Blush by Marc Jacobs, the shared scent Paco by Paco Rabanne or the bombastic Angel by Thierry Mugler, in which it is used as a fresh top note along with helional.


Next part will focus on other aspects of the jasmine quest.

Artwork by Godward "The new perfume" courtesy of allposters.com
Perfume ad for Eau Sauvage from 2001 courtesy of psine.net

No.18 from Chanel Les Exclusifs: fragrance review

When I fist heard about the new line by Chanel, officially termed Les Exclusifs, or affectionately termed Les Prétentieux, the one which I was most in anticipation of was no.18. Named after the number of the Chanel fine jewelry boutique at Place Vendôme it is a scent based on ambrette seed , a vegetal and very costly ingredient that natural perfumers use for substituting real and synthetic musk in their perfumes.
I had envisioned a whole scenario of soft smooth aromas in my mind, lured by the promise of musk that is one of my top favourite notes in creation in most of its nuances and incarnations. Not even the prophet Muhhamad has been so entranced by the promise of musk as I have!

However my impression of ambrette seed largely derives from the oil distilled and the absolute used in perfumes which I have had the rare pleasure of smelling and not the unshelled variety of the seed which I later found out goes into the production of no.18.
Hibiscus Abelmuschus, aka ambrette seed, is a plant of the hibiscus family whose names derives from the Greek ibis (a kind of bird that supposedly eats it) and the Arabic Kabbel-Misk (which means grain of musk). Usually the seeds of the plant when they “hatch” are pressed for their precious oil which takes on a soft, sweetish, skin-like aroma. According to Mandy Aftel the smell is sweet, rich, floral and musky all at once.

Imagine my surprise and dare I say a little disillusionment when I actually got my decant and sprayed the precious juice on my skin. An acrid, pungent smell first hit me that was not the richness and powderiness I anticipated so eagerly.
In fact it reminded me of an anecdotal story I want to share with you. While still little I had a penchant for mixing brews and potions and generally messing with spices, aromas, pomades and yes, perfumes. I found the whole concept of it fascinating and wanted to see how different smells could be combined and nuanced. Spices and cooking are a logical introduction and having been blessed with a mother who cooked well and kept a lot of interesting stuff in the kitchen cupboards I took them out one by one and started experimenting. Once it was the cloves: crushing them, then burning them (they do produce a different, very smoky aromatic sweet smell when burned). Then the pimento and saffron: experimenting with boiling them or immersing them in oil like I had seen women do with basil, rosemary and thyme for aromatizing olive oil (and yes, this is a valid practice that produces mouthwatering results). The stage that really did me in was mace. It was a spice I loved sprinkled on creams and cookies and in meat dishes. It gave a rich oriental, middle-eastern flavour to everything and I loved its ambience. Little did I know that upon burning the unshelled nut in the fireplace (which is quite a hard light brown one) the pungent smell would pervade the house to a point of suffocation and produce fumes that would take eons to clear out rendering my parents furious at me and me nauseous of that smell for life.

Sadly, it was that bitter childhood memory that the initial impression of burned pickles emanating from my no.18 sprayer produced in me. Of course I might be exaggerating because the effect is not nearly as strong as all that, although the whole scent is obviously orchestrated around the solo violin player of ambrette seed, there is no doubt about that.
The effect is certainly not ordinary at all and it only bears a slight resemblance to some oudh fragrances I have smelled and the likeable weirdness of Timbuktu by L’artisan Parfumeur.
Maybe this is an omphaloscopic post and I am analyzing this too much. The point is this medicinal, strange element deterred me from appreciating the full spectrum and possible beauty of no.18. I braced myself for the development, which soon came in the form of sweetish woody and fruity notes of a non-descript nature that in my humble opinion deter from the more daring opening that although repulsive to me personally due to the associations might be a strong pull to people who are interested in the adventurous, distinctive and different. The base is also a little synthetic smelling as if the natural aspect of ambrette seed is anchored with materials invented wearing a white robe, which is a bit antithetical to the promise of a rich vegetal smell.
The modernization of the concept so that it would not recall a natural artisanal perfume, but one issued by a pedigree great house does not work to its favour I think.

Jacques Polge has revealed in an interview that this is his favourite of the line-up and I can see how a person who doesn’t like oakmoss (as discussed before) and is an oriental lover would prefer this. It is certainly the most innovative of the lot and I dearly wish I had the virginal mental and olfactory make-up to really appreciate no.18. As it is, I am unfortunately unable to. It would be like uprooting a mighty tree out of my brain.




Art photography by Chris Borgman courtesy of his site.

Glorious stink

The ebb and flow of human taste and its modus operandi is an undecipherable commodity. What is considered appealing and desirable and what is not doesn’t obey any quantitative measure. Which of course accounts for trends, market research and lost fortunes in wrong assumptions side by side with the successful lucky guesses.
The same applies to smell and fragrance. More pointedly so when the aromas emanating from someone are of a more intimate nature.

Ever since the dawn of humanity homo sapiens has shared the biological fate of his ancestors in the olfactory field. His sense of smell has primarily directed him to opt for the healthy game and fresh produce and avoid the stale and rotten. It is also possible that it has directed him via odorata sexualis to suitable mates through which procreation might be consummated with the imperceptible help of pheromones, aroma materials that are emanated by individuals to attract. For millennia man has been content to do just that.

And then civilization came into the picture. In the great civilizations of antiquity such as Egypt, Greece and Rome, the desire to distance oneself from the animal nature and embrace the humane, as manifested in science, philosophy and the arts, has made man take measures as to maintain a level of cleanliness that is beyond the mere necessity of survival. All those civilizations have been very hygienic indeed, if we take into mind that there was no running hot water and no bubble baths in a million permutations.
Yet Herodotus talks about how the ancient Egyptians of his time bathed regularly shaving their body hair and even their scalps as to not let perspiration nestle in intimate parts of the body and fester bacteria (OK, he did not use the word bacteria precisely). How they had inward lavatories for their needs and how they took pains to maintain hygiene there. How they used sweet scented oils and incense to accompany the dead to their last dwelling place on earth.
The Greeks were by no means less clean. They too -living in a warm climate- had been taking regular baths using silver and golden basins followed by massage with aromatic oils of thyme and basil at every possible occasion, cleaning their clothes in the rivers with ash and aromatic herbs as described in the Odyssey and equating hygiene with sanity and longevity. Numerous are the mythological tales of gods and goddesses taking baths while mortals gazed hidden. It was Galenos who invented the first bar of soap mixing crushed flower petals, olive oil and ash from burnt logwood.
Ancient Rome was the apex of public baths, in which people of all ages intermingled and talked about state matters in elaborate buildings divided in unctuarium (where they chose the unguents with which they would groom themselves), the frigidarium (cold bath) and the caldarium (hot bath) and then on to the labrum for the final cold shower.
Even lavender that clean smelling herb is named after the roman word for bathing, because of its ubiquitous use.
The tradition of the bath as a civilization index is no more apparent that in Tacitus’ opus Germania where he mentions with some disdain that Germanians, considered barbarians at the time, bathed in rivers. At least they did bathe! Which is more than can be said for the squalor and filth in which Medieval Europe lived for centuries after the fall of Rome.

While Islam reveled in the luxuries of bathing (aided by the religious prerequisite to clean one’s head, hands and feet before every prayer, a phenomenon that occurs with frequent regularity throughout the day), western Europe inaugurated a practice of not washing up one’s body at all, for which the church can be found to be a great culprit.
Maintaining that mixed baths (as were previously tentatively explored) were corrupting the soul and that tending to one’s genitals might lead to impure thoughts, they condoned the absence of bath as a means of chastity while at the same time they traditionally equated holiness with the sweet smell of myrrh and incense. How those two could co-exist is beyond me, but this is not the only paradox one comes up against if one explores the matter further.

It was as late as 1750 according to Alain Corbin and his book “Le Miasme and la Jonquile”, which explores the adventure of sanitation and the desodorisation of society, that the élite chose to distance itself from the foul stench of the gutters and disease that were abundant in the crowded -by then- cities of France. A taste for the aroma of deer musk or of catty civet and of pure country air mingled in what was to become the height of French perfumery. The impression of cleanliness underscored by the reminder that we are all human, full of smells that could be perceived as disgusting in their pure state.
However perfumes seemed to be necessary still to repel the germs and bacteria through their cleansing properties as the tradition of filth continued, albeit a bit subdued: at least the clothes were as freshly clean as possible.
Louis XIV was said to have only bathed two times in his whole long life despite asking his guests and courtesans to wear a different perfume every day and the mere thought disgusts us today, earning a reputation of filth for Frenchmen which sadly has not been totally shifted if I judge by the miniscule pieces of sanitary paper that come out - one at a time!!- through the automatic devices at French toilets today.
On the other hand there was also an allure of the animalic and forbidden in similar practices when Napoleon infamously wrote to Josephine: “Je reviens en trois jours; ne te laves pas!” (I return in three days; don’t wash yourself).
The pair of them began a vogue for heavier smells as Josephine was madly in love with the smell of musk, to the point that her boudoir at Malmaison still has an aura of the aromatic essence present. Napoleon on the other hand preferred her in violets.

The Victorian age reveled in pure and simple smells as a contrast to the more decadent Empire style, using single floral waters (soliflores) for men and women alike. But it was the Puritans more than anyone else that began the hysteria for cleanliness with their desire to eliminate all traces of animalic tendencies from man. Sadly this is an insurmountable task, as the human body has to produce bile and bacteria to break down food which accounts for a smell that cannot be completely eradicated however hard one tries.
Indoor plumbing and hot water at the click of a button made taking baths an easy and swift procedure that is as an automatic reflex for today’s men and women as brushing one’s teeth. Technological progressions made the manufacture of industrial strength deodorants to put under one’s armpits as a necessity of every day life that is a god sent if you’re ever stuck up in a crowded underground wagon on a hot day of August. Perfumed products in an array of mind arresting variety are manufactured to lure as in and buy more, more, more…

And yet in all that progress we seem to have lost what has once been ours in ancient years: the conjugation of mind and body, the clean with the human.
The examples of complete perfume bans in offices in latter days, the denial of the sensual and natural in favour of the sanitized and deodorized has permeated every single aspect of today’s life. Everything around us is artificially scented with a chemical aroma that defies every law of nature. We scrub fanatically to remove any trace of human smell from our bodies and then we apply perfumed products that would supposedly give us back what nature intended to give us in order to attract a mate. We seek to find “clean” but at the same time “sexy” smells. Above all we do not want to offend. Being accused of smelling of body odour is the height of mortification for anyone beyond infancy. (since kids do not really “smell”; there have to be sexual hormones at play to do that…)
In an overcrowded planet that has no room for any more bodies, this was to be expected.
And this is what accounts for the recent resurgence of perfumes that aim to regress in the stink and funk of our human condition: from the goat-y magnificence of Muscs Kublai Khan by enfant gaté Serge Lutens to the dirty smell of Kiehl’s Musk eau de toilette and from the soft caress of a slightly sweaty body that has been active in human activities of L’air de rien by Miller Harris (with the collaboration of Jane Birkin) to the gimmicky Sécretions magnifiques by état libre d’Orange which recalls semen and blood (sounds the recipe for some tabloid article)…

It is clear that one yearns for what one is denied of. And the reason why isn’t very hard to see.


Artwork by Patric Boivine for CGnetworks.com

Fragrance review: Avicenna by Annette Neuffer

Annette Neuffer is a multi-talented lady you have not come across associated with fragrance yet. But you sure will. Not only is she an accomplished jazz musician with a quintet after her own name, performing all around the world, she has also stepped into the perilous world of perfumery using all natural essences to render her wild imaginings palpable and tangible for us.
Her generosity in sending me her labour of love was astounding and I am honoured to have been at the receiving end. To tell you the truth, I begin all those samplings with no expectations at all (since I don’t want to be prejudiced one way or another), but usually they prove very pleasant and sometimes even gripping to my surprise.

Annette’s most accomplished foray into the art of composing perfume so far is Avicenna, a sumptuous oriental of a deep ambery golden colour like a monastic liqueur. A complex and dark mix of several expensive rose essences of various origin (Bulgarian, Turkish, Russian, Moroccan), jasmine, broom, pepper, honey, sandalwood, amber, vanilla and musks.
The name alone enticed me as soon as I heard about it: Avicenna or more accurately Abu Ali al-Husain ibn Abdallah ibn Sina (born in Isfahan, the legendary city in 980AD), was the famous researcher, scientist and philosopher of Islam who was responsible for cracking the secret of rose distillation in the 10th century. Islam is a culture stepped deep into the cult of the rose. For them rose is the essence of beauty, holiness and spirituality. It appears in many facets of everyday life and plays an important part in religious ceremonies. The thick plush petals that resemble velvet hold a fascination for the denizens of the anhydrous regions of the Middle East and its heavy narcotic feel lulls the mind into a reverie.
Annette Neuffer was inspired by these historical details and strove to create something with an ancient feel to it, something that would lend some small magical touch in our everyday preparation to face the perilous world out there, a fragrant talisman for our protection.

The spicy cascade Avicenna opens with takes you by the throat and forces you to pay attention as caustic pepper singes and swirls around floral essences, perhaps a tad too stringently. Ginger and cardamom are also apprarent, while cinnamon does not make a too noticeable appearence, certainly not what you're accustomed to from its ubiquitous use in pot-pourri. The garland of rose unfolds on the skin majestically, like a thousand petals crushed underfoot in a medieval palace in Tehran. Myriads of nuances of rose take on mellow hues lent by smooth saffron and the bracken and honey feel of broom as the progression of the maturing of the precious and quite potent essence is continuing. It is very apparent that those sensations have their feet firmly in the sensual world of the material world of Nature rather than the white-coat lab of an urban conglomerate technician. There is no sharp note or that high pitched aluminium and glass feel of modern perfumes that one can smell at a department store. It’s cobbled alleys and dirt instead.
The underlying mustiness has reminded me of the famous Caron accord that is so evident in most of the venerable firm’s offerings. Their Poivre, Parfum Sacre and Rose parfums all contribute elements that can be traced later on in Avicenna.
As I inhale deeply I am transported to Top Kapi, the Constantinople palace where draperies of heavy damask hide Byzantine secrets and languorous kohl-eyed sultanas take a break from their more carnal occupations to revel in the romanticized florancy of rose and the piercing sweetness of natural jasmine in the lazy hours of a never ending afternoon.
Aromatic resins such as erotic labdanum and mellow benzoin anchor the composition with restraint so that it never becomes too sweet, as one might fear judging by the notes; although they do lend tremendous fixation and staying power to it. The final phase recalls the deep and dull colour of large amber beads threaded together in a komboloi (playing beads), one ticking the other incessantly, as time elapses lazily until all aromas on skin very, very slowly exit with a sigh.

The official notes are as follows:

Head

Black Pepper, Cinnamon Bark, Cardamom, Ginger, Macis, Mandarin, Bergamot, Tunisian Neroli

Heart
Saffron Absolute, Tunisian Orange Blossom absolute, Turkish and Bulgarian Rose Otto and absolute, Moroccan Rose Absolute, Russian Rose Absolute, Jasminum Grandiflorum Egypt, Acacia Farnesiana, Indian Tuberose, Broom Absolute

Base
Beeswax Absolute Supιrieur, Oppoponax, Elemi, Labdanum, Benzoin, Vanilla Absolute, Mysore Sandalwood, Copaiva Balsam, Hibiscus Abelmoschus


Annette Neuffer might not be as experienced as some other established perfumers, but her passion and interest in the world of natural essences is at least engaging and worth exploring for yourself.
I highly recommend you visit her Perfume Page here, where you can get info, request samples and possibly order.
You can also contact her directly at: info@naturparfum.net



Pic is of Blue Mosque in Constantinople/Istanbul courtesy of pbase.com