Η ζωή ενός ταπεινού, αλλά ουχί ταπεινόφρονος, συλλέκτη

 

Η ζωή ενός ταπεινού, αλλά ουχί ταπεινόφρονος, συλλέκτη.

από την Έλενα Βοσνάκη

Μια φορά κι έναν καιρό ζούσε ένας άνθρωπας. Με τα καλά του και με τα κακά του, και με τις αδυναμίες και τα τρωτά που όλοι οι άνθρώπες έχουν από κτίσεως Εδέμ και δώθε. Εμείς.

Μία πρωία που τα πουλάκια κελαηδούσαν ιδιαίτερα εύηχα κι η πλάση υποσχόταν είτε την μαγική Εδέμ ξανά από την αρχή, ή την τέλεια καταιγίδα μετά από άμετρο πόνο, ο άνθρωπας τέντωσε την πιασμένη του ραχοκοκκαλιά και πιάστηκε από το πρώτο πράγμα που κύλισε σαν βάλσαμο στις πληγές του ή σαν λόγια ερωτευμένου στ'αυτιά του. Θες ήταν μια Ducati σε θεϊκά μπεζόχρυσα καμπύλα κυβικά που στραφτάλιζαν κάτω από τον ήλιο, θες ήταν ένα κόμικ με ένα τυπά που πυροβολούσε γρηγορότερα κι απ'την σκιά του που του'κλεισε το μάτι μαγκιόρικα, θες ήταν ένα ελιξίριο μέσα σε ένα μυστηριώδες μπουκάλι που ξεπρόβαλλε σαν το τζίνι, με κάθε εισπνοή υποσχόμενο όχι τρεις επιθυμίες, αλλά χίλιους και τρεις σεβντάδες με ένα φσσσσς!

Μικρή σημασία έχει τι έπιασε τον άνθρωπα από τα πέτα. Τον έπιασε πάντως κι εκείνος άκουσε. Αφουγκράστηκε τον παλμό και μέθυσε. Και είπε "εδώ είμαστε γιαβρί μου!". Έπαθε έναν έρωτα όλο τρέλλα. Νόμισε πως στο μάθεμα του έρωτα η επαναληπτικότητα θα τροφοδοτήσει την αγάπη του ως τα ουράνια. Να γίνει σκάλα να πιάσει τον θεό και να τον φέρει τούμπα και να του πει "δεν στά'πανε καλά κι έλα εδώ να δεις το μεγαλείο".

Ζούσε έτσι ηδονικά κι υπερβατικά για κάμποσο διάστημα. Ώσπου να στραγγίξει το ελιξίριο από ένα, δύο, τρία μεθυστικά μπουκάλια πανομοιότυπα αδερφάκια που στέκονταν σούζα στην εταζέρα ψιθυρίζοντας λόγια απορίας τα βράδια αναμεταξύ τους. "Τι είναι αυτό που το λένε αγάπη; Κανένα στόμα δεν το'βρε και δεν το'πε ακόμα". Όπως λέει και το παλιό το άσμα.

Ώσπου ένα απόγευμα ένα άλλο ελιξίριο βρέθηκε να τους συντροφεύει στην εταζέρα και η λαλιά τους τούς κόπηκε μαχαίρι.

Αυτό ήταν! Ένας παρείσακτος. Ένας σπιούνος. Ένας κουΐσλινγκ είχε παρεισφρύσει στις τάξεις τους. Έπρεπε να το περιμένουν... Τίποτα δεν διαρκεί για πάντα κι ο έρωτας γιατροπορεύεται με έρωτα.

Το νέο αρωματικό ελιξίριο δεν είχε τις χάρες του παλιού. Όχι. Είχε όμως έναν αέρα. Μια αύρα. Έναν κόμψο που διέφευγε του γνώριμου. Ήταν αυτό που άρπιζε στις μελωδίες των σειρήνων που έλεγαν "έεεεεελα, έεεεεελα μαζί μας άνθρωπα, ζεις για να δοκιμάζεις, πώς θα ξέρεις ποιά ξηρά είναι η πιο πράσινη αν δεν τις έχεις δοκιμάσει όλες; έεεεεεελα, έεεελα στον παφλασμό των κυμάτων κι αφέσου να σε νανουρίσουμε στην αρωματική μας αγκαλιά". Αυτά έλεγε το μπουκαλάκι το νέο λυγώντας τον μακρύ λαιμό του με νάζι και μ' αποθυμιά. Κι η μυρωδιά, το άρωμα, σαν σε αμπάρι σε παλιό σκαρί γεμάτο με όλα τα βάλσαμα της υδρογείου κι ακόμα παραπέρα...

Κι ο άνθρωπας υπέκυψε γιατί τι άνθρωπας θα ήταν αν δεν υπέκυπτε άλλωστε.

Κι ο κήπος των πρωτόπλαστων απομακρυνόταν σαν τα δέντρα του Ταντάλου. Κι η υπόσχεση για πλήρωση και για κορεσμό απομακρυνόταν με κάθε νέο μπουκαλάκι άρωμα. Κάθε νέο απόκτημα είχε την ηδονική γητειά στα χείλη του υπεσχημένη για ευμορφιά, για χάρη, για την μοναδική την ατελεύτητη την αγάπη την θεία που ξεχειλίζει από τους ουρανούς και φέρνει πίσω τα μικράτα, τις αναμνήσεις μας: τους αγαπημένους, τις πρώτες μας μελαγχολίες και τα πρώτα μας φιλιά, τον φίλο μας τον Σοφοκλή που έφυγε Αυστραλία και μήτε που τον ξανάδαμε, τα εφηβικά τα πάρτυ στην παραλιακή, τα άγρια ροκ και τους μπαξέδες που μοσχοβολούσαν γιασεμί, την καθηγήτρια με το μωβ μαλλί και το νύχι το μακρύ που μύριζε φαρμακίλα, τα πρώτα λεφτά που τά'στρωσε ψυγείο ν'αγοράσει, τα λάστιχα που λιώνανε στην εθνική τα χιλιόμετρα να καταπίνουν προς έναν προορισμό καινούργιο...

Κάθε μπουκαλάκι μια υπόσχεση. Κάθε μπουκαλάκι και μια διάψευση. Κάθε μπουκαλάκι ένας έρωτας και μια εφήμερη πατρίδα που όλο ξεμακραίνει.

Γιατί φεύγει όσο το κυνηγάω;

Και στο κυνήγι αυτό ήρθε μια μέρα του άνθρωπα ο κορεσμός και η θλίψη. Ακόμα και τα ζώα θλίβονται μετά την συνουσία. Κι άφησε τα μπουκαλάκια που ως τότε τα ξεσκόνιζε και τα περιποιούνταν να πιάσουν σκόνη και να μείνουν αγιάτρευτα σε ένα ανήλιαγο μπουντρούμι. "Μην μου μιλάτε για καλοκαίρια και χειμώνες. Μην φέρνετε άλλο στο νου μου όσα χαθήκαν πια για πάντα.", σκέφτηκε κι ίσως ψιθύρισε κάποια στιγμή σηκώνοντας τα κουτιά στο πατάρι.

Και έθαψε την εφηβεία του και την νεότητά του, και την πένθησε όπως αρμόζει σε τέτοια πράγματα να πενθούνται.

Κι έπειτα μια άλλη πρωία, πολύ καιρό μετά, αλλά πολύ, που ήταν δροσερή κι είχαν όλα λουστεί στο καθάριο νερό της βραδινής μπόρας, κι όλα στραφτάλιζαν με κείνη την πράσινη αιχμηρή διαύγεια που έχουν τα εγγλέζικα καλοκαίρια, ξύπνησε ο άνθρωπας και του έλειψε εκείνο το κελαρυστό το γέλιο που έκανε όταν ο ήχος του φφφφφςςςς χτυπούσε στο λαιμό και στο στέρνο. Του έλειψε, όπως του χαροκαμένου που έχει πια πάρει απόφαση πως άλλη ζωή δεν έχει. Και παίρνει απόφαση να ζήσει.

Και σηκώθηκε κριτς κρατς σκουριασμένος ο άνθρωπας και θυμήθηκε τ'αρώματα στο πατάρι. Και τις γητειές τους. Και νοστάλγησε και την πρώτη του την αγάπη που δεν ξεχνιέται ποτέ. Και την αναζήτησε σε άλλα χέρια. Σε άλλες αγκαλιές. Και ερωτεύτηκε και πάλι από την αρχή. Και αυτή την φορά το πήρε αλλιώς κι αλλιώτικα και πασαλιμανιώτικα για να γλυτώσει την λογική του την μισή. Κι είπε: "Ως εδώ και θα πορευθώ σε τούτη την ζωή με λίγα αλλά αληθινά. Μακριά από μένα οι σειρήνες και οι Λαιστρυγόνες και η Κίρκη με τα φαρμάκια της. Καπνό θα δω από της καλύβης μου την τίμια καμινάδα". Και επέστρεψε.

Για να βρει την Πηνελόπη αλλαγμένη. Μαδημένη. Με χέρια πόδια να της λείπουν από τις αλλαγές. Τις αναμνήσεις να μην μπορούν να βρουν το πρώτερο το σχήμα και να πασχίζει να τους δώσει μορφή σαν άλλοτε...

Όμως άλλοτε δεν έχει πια. Και ο Οδυσσέας αναγκαστικά παίρνει το κουπί* και ψάχνει την γη που δεν θα το αναγνωρίσουν ως κουπί και θα το πούνε λυχνιστήρι. Κι εκεί θα ζήσει το υπόλοιπο της ζωής του ξανά σαν άλλος, σε ένα ατέλειωτο ταξίδι στις αισθήσεις και στις εμπειρίες. Στα αρώματα της ψυχής του.

___________________________________________________________

*Από την γνωστή ιστορία του Οδυσσέα που μετά την μνηστηροφονία ξεκινάει για νέες περιπέτειες με τον κουπί στον ώμο όπως του παρήγγειλαν οι θεοί.

Και με προσωπικό θαυμασμό στο ποίημα:

Ποιος είδε ψάρι στο βουνό και θάλασσα σπαρμένη ;
Ένα κουπί ποιος φύτεψε σε θερισμένο κάμπο ;
Πουλιά το βλέπουν στεριανά και το περνούν για σκιάχτρο.
Πάνε δειλά ’πο πιο κοντά, το λένε λιχνιστήρι.
Κι ένας αετός που πέρναγε τον πιάσανε τα γέλια.
Καλά το είπατε πουλιά πως είναι λυχνιστήρι.
Λιχνίζει κύματ’ αρμυρά στ’ αλώνια του πελάγου.
Πίσω να πάει τ’ άχερο μπροστά ο καρπός να πέσει,
Πίσω να παν μέρες πικρές, μπροστά να δεις πατρίδα.
Τ’ ονοματίζουνε κι αλλιώς : του καραβιού φτερούγα.
Κι όσοι θαλασσοδέρνονται το λεν δεξί τους χέρι.
Μ’ αυτός που τό ’φερ’ ώς εδώ στον ώμο κουβαλώντας,
Όσο μπορούσε πιο μακριά ’π’ τη θάλασσα τη χέρσα,
Και τό ’μπηξε βαθιά σε γης π’ αδιάκοπα γεννάει,
Το λέει σταυρό στο μνήμα του : εκεί να τόνε θάψουν.

Ο νερόμυλος, 1998

{Διονύσης Μενίδης "Σπουδή Θανάτου"}

 

The madness of good ol' times...

Back when I bought almost each and every one Serge Lutens fragrance launch.
I also have a few bell jars (subsequent post about those) and 2 spare bottles of Fleurs d'Οranger in the bathroom for sustenance in times of need. :)

Now let me see: What shall I wear?

photograph copyright by Elena Vosnaki, from my own fragrance collection

On Vintage Stuff and the Polemics of Truth

It came to my attention that my article on Vintages on the mega perfume site has created much controversy. That's a good thing! It was written with a view of being controversial in the first place. I outright stated it from the get go that that was expected and in fact desirable. Still, there is some misunderstanding of the aim and the construction behind it and I feel like a couple of things need clarifying.

The core confusion seems to be that I have had a change of heart. That I loved vintages, reviewed them lovingly and somehow that's kaput. One commentator went as far as saying "The Perfume Shrine is bar-none the best resource for information on vintage perfumes available on the internet. Her vintage reviews are favorable and spot-on" continuing by saying that therefore the contrarian view therein is confusing. Well, thank you very much, and maybe there is a reason behind this accolade. Maybe it's because I double, triple, quadruple-check things. And people who do that often come across -shall we say- interesting discrepancies; I'm not alone.

Still, the question remains: have I lost my love of historical fragrances? No, actually that's not the case at all. In fact I intend to continue to review and smell vintage perfumes, just not pay crazy prices on them.

Indeed because I have been a huge collector (of vintage perfumes and otherwise) I have had a sort of epiphany lately. Lots of things I have amassed have ceased to be as they were the moment I had first bought them; not necessarily going bad always, but not what I had loved at that moment in time. This isn't going by memory alone, as many perfume lovers staked memory as the main argument into collecting vintages: "because they continue to smell as we remember them". No, I'm not going just on memory. I was actually keeping notes on them, very studiously too, with very specific attributes, marking this or that component and this or that twist; comparing and contrasting the notes with what I smell now I find that some of the attributes have changed. Some of these perfumes have been tossed because of this. Especially whatever was bought in decant form or air-seeping containers. (The suggestion on buying "nips" by one collector is -I concur- a good one). This is a valuable lesson to wear and enjoy what you have, for seasoned as much as for new collectors. Especially coming on the heels of the unfortunate demise of a huge and much loved in the perfume community collector, dear Linda. I didn't want to mention this in the article, it felt too personal for such a huge site, but this unfortunate event was a wake up call. The fact that her massive, beloved collection is being sold by relatives in an attempt to collect money for her children leaves me with mixed feelings. No matter how lovingly one keeps their collection, when one dies it's especially sad to see that a life's accumulation can't always be appreciated for what it was intended to be. That's point number 1.

Point number 2 is that apparently vintage collectors felt offended as if I had implied -through industry professionals' quotes- that they are not savvy. No, actually that's not true. I specifically mentioned that "people aren't that stupid" and that they can discern whether something has turned and has become dreck. It's the other nuances which are harder to pinpoint (authenticity to original formula, nuances between years and batches) and that goes for me too and any expert on the planet. A perfume, even from the same bottle, even from the same batch, is never the same twice. Octavian Coiffan had said it in his own erudite style too before closing his blog. Like Heraclitus said "you can't cross the same river twice". It's the transience of perfume that is accountable for that.

Besides, what constitutes "vintage", a term taken from wine? Vintage refers to specific year and perfumes do not have a date stamped on them, so what one refers to as vintage Miss Dior might be 1950s stuff and another's vintage might be 1970s stuff; two very different things! Unless we're 100% specific and unless we know EXACTLY when our bottle was produced we can't really talk about the same thing (and going by the packaging is not enough, because the professional I quote has seen with his very eyes that brands take left-over caps or boxes from one batch and use them for a later perfume batch as if nothing intervened.)

To revert to the feelings of collectors which have been ruffled: Even though once one has spent thousands of dollars on what they initially considered an investment or an art lesson it's hard to admit some error, the risk is totally legit. And should continue to be legit, something which the ridiculous hike on vintage perfume prices has rendered semi-impossible at the moment. (Not that I don't chastise the niche industry for their equally ridiculous prices as well from time to time and if you've been reading here you know it). Not a day passes by when I don't receive in my inbox some inquiry or other that goes along the lines "I have found X perfume at the back of my grandma's/aunt's/deceased relative's closet, how much is it worth?" It's a question that is impossible to answer straight for various reasons. Therefore my reply (after trying to offer some practical tips) invariably boils down to "as much as the market will bear". Because, I don't really know. People buy things that are claimed to be great and they buy them in whatever condition because they're a "MUST TRY" right and left. Whether they're then disappointed is a moot point, as the discussion following the purchase, much like a refutation in a tabloid paper, is written in small print. There is a public service hiding someplace rather than condescension when one says "hey, maybe it's not worth taking the risk unless the price is quite low, you know". This isn't such a bad reminder for very experienced players either, come to think of it. The other day someone had on offer an original Guerlain Parure "wave" design extrait bottle asking for thousands of dollars. Yes, Parure is fabulous and it keeps rather well too, oddly enough, but the price is more than ridiculous; it's scourging. We need to say it. I consider it a duty as a writer whose work is read by people budding into the hobby; not everyone is an old timer and "newbies" shouldn't be shunned in this vintage snobbery.

Some people felt offended all the same. What is easily forgotten is it is impossible to know exactly how something originally intended to smell, unless you have been to the Osmotheque, have compared the freshly made reconstitutions of vintage formulae with the vintage juice you have purchased from someone and ~assuming that this is even possible, since even the Osmotheque doesn't reconstitute everything under the sun~ you can speak with some certainty. Most of the time you can only get an idea. An idea is good enough compared to nothing and I know that very well. But it's just that: an idea and it's important to stress this when talking about something, even in the more formal context of a review. Much like classical antiquity isn't all white like we're accustomed to see in museums and idealized through the eyes of the 19th century ~I bet most of us we'd get a heart attack to see the vibrancy of color actually painted on classical statues (yes, painted on, you read this right)~ it's a similar case with perfume. We see the past through the eyes of the present and with a hope and longing for the future. It's an Utopia. And like all Utopias, an ideal one. I sympathize. I'm with you. But I prefer to admit it is and don't think I should be penalized for saying so.

One point which was resounding and which the industry would better heed to is the following, voiced by many: "I buy vintage because I don't like modern perfumes, niche or mainstream". Yup, I can see some of the veracity of that pronouncement. Maybe if mediocre stuff wasn't pushed as unicorn's tears, maybe I would be less harsh myself.

Finally, point number 3, it was rather disconcerting to see to have the authority of the people I quoted attempted to be undermined as non relatable, as "weirdos" (verbatim on another site) or with some invested interest into pushing new niche juice or into selling their own "versions" of vintage juice. The quotes are taken from the public forum and are just a choice picking because they are fascinating, coming from people who have spent their lives into the actual business and had access to the original formulae. As an example Musc Ravageur was recently reformulated, as officially admitted, yet no one raised an eyebrow; if Malle hadn't leaked this, no one wouldn't have been the wiser, because there is attention given to the work, it's not some hatched up job as widely imagined to be. Pity poor Thierry Wasser for all the shit he had thrown his way because he came on board at Guerlain at that particular moment in time: remember the vilifying, criminally rude implication that he should somehow forsake his position to allow Patricia de Nicolai gain access to the Guerlain canon? I consider this just one of the despicable milestones of the perfume world timeline.

Obviously people at large will continue to buy new niche juice because the concept of niche perfumes as connoisseur or exclusive stuff is too successful from a marketing point of view to stop anytime soon; market research shows it's the only rapidly growing segment of the perfume industry and everyone is jumping on board to grab a bite off the pie. And obviously the market for reconstituted vintage juices wasn't big to begin with, never was the prime objective or job of one of the people quoted and shouldn't be held as an ad hominem attack. It's highly ironic, let it be said in passing, that someone with a self-promoted controversial profile in our secluded circle, who has never been in any capacity involved into the creation of fine fragrance at any given moment, was deemed a quotable source than professionals who have spent their whole lives immersed into actual perfume making (let me here repeat that Malle's kin was fragrance head at Dior "back in the good old days" and that Dame has worked at Caron, Lauder, you-name-it etc). It proves something that is all too well known to politicians: that self-promo works and the more you say what people want to hear the more you're "liked" by them.

An Exceptional Perfume Bottle from Serge Lutens

The Christmas limited editions by Serge Lutens are always gorgeous and precious in every sense of the word: hand engraved on glass, beautiful and evocative designs and truly expensive (logical, if you think there are only a handful of bottles produced in the first place).
This year Serge Lutens presents La Fille de Berlin, a composition based on rose, which takes on dark, disturbing tonalities, a rose with thorns that recalls gothic tales. The bottle as you can see is one of a kind. Numbered editions from 1 to 30, dated and monogrammed. A unique bottle, engraved by hand, with platinum enameling. Just beautiful...

Which Type of Perfume Collector Are You?

Among the perfume aficionados set you will find several types: The "I follow only fragrances costing upper of 300$ a pop or hard-to-get niches launched only in Rovianemi"; the "I worship at the shrine of Trish-au-four and everything else is just dog crap stuck on his sole"; the "Give me a good thick unwearable woody emblazoned with oud on the label and I'm set"; the "I chuckle through my fine mustaches as I drive thousands of people to sample expensive things which I semi-loathe, but they're the newest thing and I have to try it out first, don't I".

There are other less aggressive or opinionated ~take your pick~ types as well; from the well meaning housewife who is now living vicariously through her perfume cabinet (brandishing Bandit here and unleashing Fracas there), hidden underneath the mementos of her children who flew the nest for worthwhile pursues of their own (who knows, they might in turn hide a perfume cabinet underneath their university dorm sink!) or the businessman who is hearing tirades on software all day long and relaxes at home with a good old glass of whiskey and a dab of vintage Vetiver on his dressing gown. There is the fashionista type who collects all the latest designer fragrances building a collection, which hard-edge members of specialized fora might sneer at, but who knows her Dolce The One from her Chanel Coco Mademoiselle down pat and can give you a mean advice or two on how to pick stuff for gifts. A subset of that one displays her wares proudly on her dresser, to the amazement of all her friends who ask "do you use all that stuff?" like a clueless person would ask a wine collector whether they drink all that stuff.

There is also the seasoned kind of perfume collector who has become a bit bored with one's self over the years, constantly weeding stuff from the fragrance wardrobe, but at the same time continuously lured in by novelties that promise to be the revolution of the industry in a bottle or by unmissable bargains on an old standby which -guess what- won't be available that much longer.

There is the eager novice who desires to partake of the holy sacraments with an urgency approaching that of hysteria, yet feels unworthy deep down, trying to manipulate himself into liking a revered fragrant beast like Mitsouko instead of vice versa.
There is even the mock perfumista who posts on discussion boards about acquisitions but in reality hasn't even opened one bottle of perfume, setting them on the side for profitable meta-selling when the drive for the elusive has reached improportionate heights. And surely, there are uncharted waters which I might have missed.

Which is YOUR type?


mini perfumes tray collection via 1950s Atomic Ranch House and of bottles collection via Through my Eyes Beauty