Stars & Stripes: 10 Quintessentially American Fragrances

Reminiscing of my United States days now that Independence Day is around the corner, I cannot but admit my amazement instigated by the sheer size of the country and the numerous "pockets" of microvariables I witnessed throughout in all matters: nature, people and culture. Who could believe that the Latino-bursting humid Florida with its Art-Deco pastel houses and stretching highways has any relation to the glass skyscrapers, the bustling sidewalk and the loaded, steely sky of New York City? Or how can the jazzy Louisiana with its succulent Creole kitchen be compared to the barbeque pool parties in Los Angeles or the boxwood trees flanking the streets of San Francisco? In trying to assemble a list of quintessentially American fragrances, for men and women to share, I stumble across this very obstacle: One cannot generalise; especially concerning such a multi-nuanced nation as the US!

Still, there are olfactory elements which fuse together to create something that is perceived as American to my mind. The maritime pines, or the palm trees lining Miami beach which remind me of home; mixed with the bay leaves which lace not only Bay Rum the cologne, but also tangy Southern dishes. The lighter Virginia blond tobacco ~so different from the murkier, richer Balkan varieties which I have loved~ remininding me not of Istanbul-bound vagabondages but of a Marlboro rider, free to roam astride in the immense plains. The yellow trillium with its lemon scented flowers and mottled leaves; as well as the ironically named American Beauty Rose, brought from France in 1875 (where it was bred as "Madame Ferdinand Jamin") and commemorated in the Joseph Lamb ragtime "American Beauty Rag". Accessing the fragrances that represent to me the American classics however I recurr to some constants: The desire for a potent message, no matter if it is a "clean" or more herbal/woody one, the affinity for a certain latheriness in even the most dense oriental, the preponderance for traditional proper values.
All these and more comprise my reminiscences and associations with America the Great and I invite you to augment the list with your suggestions. Here are some of my own:

Florida Water Eau de Cologne
The sweet oranges bursting with sunny warmth and tanginess on the branches of Californian and Florida trees are the shift that took place when the traditional European recipe of Eau de Cologne, like the pilgrims, lay foot on the New World by the brand of Lanman & Kemp Barclay in 1808. The addition of clove and lavender imparts two elements of American significance which converge into one: hygiene!

Caswell-Massey's Number Six cologne
Supposedly worn by George Washington and part of the collection of the USA's oldest perfumery, what could be more American? Citrusy and rosemary-rich in a formal but also country-like way, its introduction in 1789 marked the raw, rugged manliness that was necessary for the times: noble ideals fought with decisive dynamism!

Blue Grass by Elizabeth Arden
The enterpreneur Florence Graham choose a name out of "Elizabeth and her German Garden", or altenatively from Tennyson's poem "Enoch Arden" and her former partner Elizabeth Hubbard, when she opened her first beauty salon in 1910 and became world famous as Elizabeth Arden. George Fuschs, a Fragonard perfumer, was commissioned to compose a scent that would honour the Kentucky Blue Grass horses of Arden's in 1934. The smell is one of the great outdoors: freshly dewy and herbal, old-fashionedly lavender-tinged pettering out to clean woods. Despite one of Arden's managers ominous forecasting ("it would remind people of manure and would be a flop"), it became her best-seller. Today it is forgotten, which is all the more reason to re-explore it as an American classic.

Old Spice by Shulton
There is no more poignant memory than dads and grandfathers smelling of this enduring classic of smooth spiciness and austere woods, with its traditional flowery accent of lavender and geranium. Intoduced in 1937 by William Lightfoot Schultz and composed by Albert Hauck, the cologne came in an identical men's and women's scent packaged differently, tagged"Early American Old Spice." It's now part of the Procter & Gamble brand. No matter how much it has become a cliché in perfumeland and how hard it is to shed the associations, the greatness of the scent cannot be denied. It was meant for the guys who would rather shed an arm than change grooming products (ie. typical male customers of half of the 20th century) and it has won several blind tests as "the most expensive, the sexiest, the most sophisticated" fragrance.

Youth Dew by Estee Lauder
Estee Lauder, a Hungarian-Jewish-hailing enterpreneur who flourished in the US, was responsible for the first American fragrance rivaling the French, putting American perfumery on the map and coming out victorious. Her classic spicy-balsam oriental of 1953 is a perennial: Introduced as a bath oil, it revolutionised the way women could now buy fragrance for themselves, rather than expect it as a gift. Perfumer Josephine Catapano (with Ernest Shiftan) married aldehydes with carnation, clove, cinnamon on a base of Tolu balsam, frankincense and rich amber to great aplomb. Despite being dense Youth Dew surprises me by its absence of animalistic dirtiness so beloved by the French. Headstrong, musty and not meant for wallflowers, Youth Dew is best ~discreetly~ enjoyed in the original bath oil form or the gorgeous body cream version.

Norell by Norell
''We all knew the formula was long,'' said Josephine Catapano, the perfumer of Norell (also of Youth Dew), ''like a treaty.'' It was her proudest creation (1968) with a pow of raspy galbanum and an intense trail of clove-y spice under the iron-starch aroma of aldehydes, which seems to date it; a fate fitting to someone like Norman Norell who nipped in waists before Dior and never paid attention to the vagaries of trends, choosing the timeless Babe Paley and Katherine Hepburn who both wore the scent. Forgotten, grabbed by Revlon in 1971 and later sold to Five Star Fragrances, Norell remains a harken-back to the glamour of cinemascope American images and wears like a rich mink on pampered skin.

Halston by Halston
The American designer Halston was born as Roy Halston Fronwick and in 1975 he embodied the scent of an era in his eponymous fragrance in a flacon famously designed by Elsa Perreti. Halston is that rare American chypre which forewent the classic Mediterrannean and foresty ambience for a minty and soapy warmth that lingered on skin seductively. In many ways it not only represented the disco epoch of Studio 54 but ironically enough also the "cleaner" values of the American ideal of sexiness.

Lauren by Ralph Lauren
Was there a college-dorm or high-school locker in America in the late 70s and early 80s that didn't smell of this 1978 creation? I've heard not! The terrific success of this part old-fashioned floral (violet, rose and carnation notes), part herbal-woody by Bernand Chant (Cabochard, Aramis, Aromatics Elixir) has pre-emptied the rage for designer scents in the following decades. Regretably has been reformulated to its detriment ruining the collective mementos of a whole generation.

Polo by Ralph Lauren
Conteporary to the feminine Lauren, Polo is as densely woody green as its bottle-green flacon ~in the shape of a flask with a gold cap and the rider trademark of Lauren's sports line embossed~ would denote. Its rich bouquet of patchouli and oakmoss composed by Carlos Benaim is accented with bracing notes of juniper, artemisia and pine with a light whiff of tobacco, embodying the very essence of an American forest getting on its legs and glidying past you like creatures out of The Lord of The Rings.

Happy by Clinique
No matter how much part of the olfactory landscape this cheerful little potion has become, its huge commercial success was based on 2 factors: It smells optimistic, a trait very much ingrained in the core of a new nation like the US, and it is a "Get me everywhere" scent that would never offend, another desirable in the increasingly non-tolerant American urban environment. Perfumer Roy Matts employed emollient tonalities of mimosa, melon and "clean" musks to gloss over the zinginess of grapefruit, resulting in a best-seller that still endures, 12 years after its introduction.

Sarah Jessica Parker Lovely
Three years after the introduction ~and terrific success~ of the first contemporary celebrity scent by Jennifer Lopez, Glow (2002), another popular figure, actress Sarah Jessica Parker agreed to launch her own scent under the aegis of Coty. A dedicated perfume lover with a self-admitted predeliction for CDG Avignon, Bonne Bell Skin Musk and Paris by Yves Saint Laurent, SJP was the perfect person to compose a celebrity scent: she's genuinely interested! Her Lovely is nothing short of lovely indeed, a refined, girly musky trail with subtle floral accents of virtual magnolia that can be pictured on every cute lady reserving a table & couch at Hudson Terrace or Terminal 5 roof deck on a balmy summer evening.

Well, 11 rather than 10. But we might as well leave it be!

Please post your own all-American fragrances recommendations!

Pics: Collen Moore The Stars and the Stripes, wikimedia commons, parfums de pub, cinematic passions.wordpress.com

Aquarelle Scents: When Perfume Behaves as Art

If perusing the shelves of perfume collections is akin to galivanting nonchalantly through the portico of a gallery then one would attribute characteristics of the painting media to perfumery without hesitation.

Some fragrances are vividly opaque like Baroque masters' thinned on turpentine; some have the eerily matte luminosity and luxurious old-world austerity that comes from gold leaf and egg tempera on Byzantine basilicas and Fayum mummy portraits. Others seem primed with Gesso primer, an indeterminate ambience that alludes to an undercoat for the development of other ideas on top; while some are thick pastels, waxy and brightly-coloured like Edgar Degas dancers. Some have modernist touches of rough, prickly spots (sand, clay and paper scraps), others still explore the darker side in genuine Soulages manner. But a few of the most enjoyable ones evoke the beguiling transparency and ethereal silkiness of watercolours. The following selection consists of my personal picks of fragrances ~regadless of gender~ which embody the spirit of clarity and light evidenced in an aquarelle, yet do not give in to being overtly delicate to the point of nothingness.

Eau d'Italie Magnolia Romana
If "clean" and crisp florals are a natural contestant amongst diaphanous studies of airy luminosity, then Magnolia Romana composed by Bertrand Duchaufour for niche line Eau d'Italie (of Hotel Le Sirenuse) is among the most pleasant. The scent is atypical of Duchaufour's heteroglossia of smoky woods (expressed in wistful Sienne L'Hiver for the same brand). The unisex and crisp blend of basil leaves, lotus blossom, and magnolia, with its lemony facet, is here especially well-matched to the delicately smoky nutmeg and the starchy linens feel of the hay and white musks drydown that wraps you like a high-thread cotton sheet during a languid summer siesta.

Annick Goutal Musc Nomade
Musk fragrances fall into two major categories: the laundry clean and the animalistically hippie, with all each entails. The extemes of the spectrum project interesting images which might be explored in detail at a later day, but it is intriguing to witness a musk fragrance that balances itself on such middle ground without seeming average. Musk Nomade, composed by resident nose for Goutal brand Isabelle Doyen is the latest addition to their Orientalistes line-up. The vegetal character of ambrette seeds and the salty skin tonality of muscone ally with more standard white musks to give a slightly "dirty" feel that is removed from the laundry or powdery musks of mainstream brands, yet doesn't growl animalistically to the direction of raunchier, warmer and more intimate candidates. Since musk anosmia is often at play with musk fragrances, one would be advised to test this one on their own. To me it seems quite lasting and plenty perceivable.

Rochas Eau de Rochas
The 1970 classic is a study in how to add panache into a classic unisex Eau de Cologne accord: just add a touch of subversive and warmly sweet patchouli! The scintillating verbena opening is akin to the bright tones of Evelyn Dunphy's "Reflections". The addition of sandalwood and oakmoss in the base extends the welcome of what is essentially a light composition by its very nature (an "eau") into something sophisticated that can stay put for a while.

Aqua di Parma Iris Nobile
Iris has a chalky undertone that often contibutes to its somber stiking one rooty note after another, making fragrances that highlight it seem more like gouache than watercolours. Yet it can be also coaxed into rendering a delicate violet-like gauze of softness, such as in Iris Nobile by perfumers Françoise Caron and Francis Kurkdjian. Here iris is married to piquant hesperidic notes that lift it into a study of light, rather than shadow. Sparkling and vivacious thanks to its uplifting anise and orange blossom accents, it's in marked contrast to my usual more brooding favourites of the genre, yet it never fails to capture my heart at the first warm rays of spring and the long hot days of summer when it sings most melodiously.

Antonia's Flowers Tiempe Passate
Orientals are not customarily associated with diaphanous attributes. Their heritage of the Middle East and the Indian sub-continent garlands their curves with an irrepresible voluptuousness. And yet there are a handfull which distance themselves in their windswept elegance. Polished, seamless and constructed on beautiful materials, Tiempe Passate (which means Time Passes, taken from an old Sicilian song that was sentimentally tied to Antonia Bellanca's family) has an individual slightly salty, slightly asteure character of Montauk rose, orris and cedar that belies the expected ornamentation and opulence of classic orientals, as well as the dowdy image of several rose scents, to emerge triumphant into a fluent interplay between the androgynous and the traditionally feminine.

Guerlain Sous le Vent
Like orientals are not considered watercolour material, neither are chypres traditionally ~their powdery or perfumey ambiance denoting sophistication and manière is a notion antithetical to the quick setting of watercolours which makes them such a difficult medium in the first place. In the re-edition of the 1930s classic by Guerlain the air space between each note is ample into letting us differentiate among the scents of bitter green galbanum, sensual oakmoss, exotic ylang ylang and dry woods, resulting in a chypre that can be "read" like the gouaches découpées Blue Nudes by Henri Matisse.

L'Artisan Parfumeur Passage d'Enfer
Frankincense naturally possesses an ornate quality of sonorous incantation, which usually shifts fragrances prominently featuring it into the realm of somber, age-darkened woods, peeling resinous varnish and smoke rings ascending like supplications to the skies. But its grey voice can add just the right background to the lighter notes of white lily and soapy white musk accords, like grainy paper showing through at spots when watercolours run over it, as showcased in the quiet, serene Passage d'Enfer by Olivia Giacobetti.

Hermessence Vanille Galante
One would be hard pressed to attribute the qualities of gauzy clarity to the calorific load of vanilla with its allusions to thick orientals and mouthwatering gourmands, yet the feat has been accomplished most admirably in Vanille Galante by Jean Claude Ellena for Hermès. The use of natural vanilla essence instead of the vastly more common extract vanillin renders this essentially aqueous floral with lily a specimen of true luxury.

Editions des Parfums Frédéric Malle Angeliques sous la Pluie
If the most transparent of bracing liquors embody the emotive effect watercolours have on the psyche (ie. the sudden lucidity of the inerbiated), then a good, dry gin and tonic echoes the aromatic components of this Jean Claude Ellena fragrance. Inspired by the fleeting whiff of an Angelica bouquet gathered just after a shower, the scent tranverses cool, spicy and tonic notes that cede to violet leaf, musks and cedar. From the exhilarating juniper berries aroma of the drink it retains the briskness and the delicate brackishness which conspire into making it the perfect brainy equivalent of a cocktail order with no ornamental umbrellas in sight whatsoever.

The Different Company Sel de Vetiver
When vetiver is attenuated to its core characteristics of hickory smoke and damp swamp then we enter the realm of the Vetiver Series. If it is treated with clear thinner like pigments are, then it takes on a fresh and radiant vivacity like that explored in the classic Guerlain masculine Vétiver and Vétiver pour Elle. Sel de Vetiver by Céline Ellena (Jean Claude's daughter) resembles the coase salt sprinkled into moist paint, producing small imperfections or a bunch of dried roots submerged into a tall, refreshing glass of water as seen from the outside: the refraction of light making it seem fascinatingly disproportionate, like the coloured straws we stared at as kids while drinking our sour cherry drinks.

Paintings: View to Acropolis, Propylaia and Herodion in Athens (painted between 1817-1820),by achitect W.Purserin(via neo-classicism blog), Pont des Arts, Paris by deneux_jacques/flickr (Some Rights Reserved)

Sitting quietly, doing nothing, spring comes, and the grass grows by itself

Such a Zen feeling as that of today's title engulfs my psyche as I let myself bask in the sunny goodness, lazy like a spoiled cat that has seen some winters and some springs come and go but never lost her sense of contenment, sighing at the first warm days she's finally free to chase fat pigeons on the terracotta-laid rooftops.
Spring is univocally here as you can see and my mind wanders on avenues of floral and green fragrances that like a breath of optimism promise some fresh air blown over the ashes of burnt winter thoughts; that like a re-invigorated kittie is eager for some mental stretch.

"Every spring is the only spring - a perpetual astonishment", said Ellis Peters, and I couldn't express the feeling in a more awe-struck way at the eternal Dionysus's return.
The following fragrances, some of which might get a full review later on, if the mood strikes, are listed in no particular order but that of making me yearn for every dawn like it's the first one.


Tocadilly by Rochas
If a spring fragrance can combine warmth and coolness like the mark of one's breath on the window-pane on an ambiguous chilly morning that will later thaw, then the armload of lilacs hiding in this fragrance's heart are just what is needed. Christopher Sheldrake worked with a delicate palette that weaves jade-greens and wisteria-mauves into mixes that blur and leave you wondering at its ethereal beauty, much like watching a dance perfomance that defies gravity. Most unfairly overlooked and making me appreciate its rarity value even more!

Snob by Le Galion
The unusual green, licorice-bittersweet aspect of estragon, among the so-called "simples", one-remedy herbs, used by Hippocrates and possibly (?) named after a corruption of the middle-French esdragon (derived from the plant's Latin specific name artemisia dracunculus, "little dragon") is reputed to help in treating bites of insects and snakes. I wouldn't dream of wishing you any occurrence in which you should need its medicinal properties, but if you are simpatico to its charms, the combination with the classical floral bouquet of rose and jasmine is producing something very close to Patou's Joy and yet a little different in a cocky way in this -by now obscure- French firm's of the 1930s offering.

Cristalle by Chanel
If a cartload of juicy lemons is smiling my way on its embarkment spot in Sicily via an architectural austere flacon then I know I am in the presence of Cristalle in Eau de Toilette. If by some fateful chance I am garlanding my hair with yellow bits of honeysuckle blossoms while drinking said lemonade at an outdoor cinema just opening its gavel-strewn lawns in May after months of inertia, then Cristalle in Eau de Parfum is winking its seductive, youthful wiles at me. The night is nostalgic and promising and I am smitten by its pedigree and effortless elegance.

Lentisque by 06310
The at once fluffy and oleaginous flavour of mastic or lentisque, a resin from a variety of the pistachio tree growing on the island of Chios in the Eastern Aegean sea is hard to convincingly capture. In this Grasse family-owned company's fragrance, the beloved culinary lentisque is blended with essences of amber seed, iris, jasmin, Turkish rose, musk, amber and vetiver to render an amalgamation of aromata that seem to hazily blur like watercolours running into each other on thick drawning paper, mixed during a nonchalant Sunday afternoon.

Flora Nerolia by Guerlain
There is nothing more March-like than the smell of bitter orange trees blossoming, their waxy white petals infiltrating the glossy green of the leaves and some fruit still hanging from the branches, like a reminder of what has been already accomplished. Guerlain captured the ethereal vapors of steam of these delicate, ravishing blossoms and married them to a pre-emptying summery jasmine and the faint whiff of cool frankincense burning inside a Greek Orthodox church preparing for the country's most devout celebration: Easter. Flora Nerolia is like a snapshot of late Lent in Greece and for that reason is absolutely precious to me.

Vanille Galante by Hermès
One of my latest infatuations, this water-ballet of lily and vanilla pod is uttely charming on skin that is coming out of hibernation like migratory habits of exotic birds which come back to nest on one's roof, their happy melodious sounds signalling the final coming of warmth. If Vanille Galante were a bird it would be a Kookaburra.

Fiori di Capri by Carthusia
If wood is the Chinese symbol of elementals for spring, then Fiori di Capri is not out of place, thanks to its distinctive oak-y vibrance beneath an intensely indolic peppery carnation and some innocently coy lily of the valley. Allegedly based on an original fragrance by Father Prior of the San Giacomo Monastry on Capri, made in 1380, the scent is just this side short of being a ticket to either the verdant Capri itself or the vertiginous heights of the Balcon de Europa in Nerja, Malaga.

Une Fleur de Cassie by Frédéric Malle
The catty-animalic pong of cassie hiding in this gem floral in the Editions de Parfums line-up is an emblem of a formidable perfumer, Dominique Ropion. Cassie flower is succulently and troublingly feminine with its intimate aura of consumed bodies and here it reveals its facets unapologetically, with a little carnation as a counterpoint sumptuously combined with vanilla and sandlwood. Wearing it makes me feel like La Veuve Aphrodissia in Marguerite Yourcenar's Nouvelles Orientales collection of short stories: the impossible alliance between passion and social conventions.

Tubéreuse Criminelle by Serge Lutens
If Carnal Flower is my default tuberose for summer thanks to its green humid airness and slight coconutty deliciousness that makes it tropical and modern to the 9th degree, Tubereuse Criminelle is just the right rite of passage worthy of a Stravinsky suite to prepare the grounds for summer and thus perfect for this transitional period. Its camphoric opening is akin to spectacular and beautiful weirdness.

Amoureuse by Parfums DelRae Roth
Pry under a delicate constellation of petals and you come face to face with something more naughty than you would ever imagine at first: the genitals of a living organism; on this occasion a flower's! The spicy, heady, at once green and floral coalescence of Amoureuse, seguing to musky perfection is unashamedly sexy and reminiscent of what spring is all about: nature's season for mating!


If you have a moment to spare the following little online test might tell you which flowers' scented style might suit you best.

What are you wearing or planning to wear this sping?


All photos copyright Helg/Perfumeshrine

Perfumes and Fur part 2

Relating fragrances to the warm, cozy but also intimately erotic connotations of furs is a task almost too enjoyable to be entirely legal. Some of those fragrances had even originally been thought of in relation to fur wearing which puts them all the more so in the vintage zone of a modern consumer’s consciousness, accompanied by a pang of nostalgia for things one has not even lived through.
The aristocratic aura they exuded makes them the decadent assortiment that a modern woman can reappreciate with eyes anew, cut off from their luxuriant aspirations and focusing on the richness and muskiness of their juice. But the creation process hasn’t been easy. Drom fragrances perfumer Pierre-Constantin Gueros is the son of a Parisian furrier, struggling to come to terms with how to translate his memories into scent: “The smell of the factory and smell of the different leathers and fur—that’s really something I think I will remember all my life,” he says. “And when I say leather, I mean there are so many different leathers. Sometimes I’m frustrated because we don’t have the raw materials to translate this leathery aspect. It’s sensual, but not really animalic. It’s textural—like silk, like wool. It’s very difficult to translate that into perfumes. You have the smell in your head, but translating it is very complicated.” [1] Fur in itself is a material which holds fragrance extremely well (although it’s strongly discouraged by the best furriers in the field to protect the pelts), often for generations which manage to make a simple hand-me-down the object of adoration and an infinite memory capsule.

Some of the old creators had no special qualms and went along on instinct. Jeanne Lanvin, the classic milliner most famous for her enduring Arpège, was responsible for commitioning in 1924 a rare marvel that was alas discontinued in 1988; a perfume eminently suitable to and evocative of vintage fur wearing. My Sin (Mon Péché in French), a sensuous, unapologetic beauty was created by André Fraysse of Firmenich in collaboration with the mysterious Madame Zed, an obscure personage of Russian extraction that remains a mystery in the history of perfumery. Supposedly resulting after no less than 17 unsuccessful perfumes [2] from her laboratory in Nanterre, My Sin proved that a sinful name and a classy, yet daring smell, was all it was required in the roaring Twenties.Its synergy of heliotrope and aldehydes gives a powderiness that is simpatico to both the romantic floral heart and the animalic musky-woody base of musk, civet and sandalwood, conspiring in giving an aura of silent but powerful distinction.

However Parfums Weil is the most characteristic example of fur perfumes, being the perfumery offshoot of Parisien furrier, Les Fourrures Weil (Weil Furs), established in 1927. Furriers since 1912, well before they became purveyors of fine fragrance, the venture of the founder Alfred and his brothers Marcel and Jacques into perfume resulted from the direct request of a client for a fragrance suitable to fur wearing. Weil obligingly capitulated to the request and produced scents that would guarantee not to harm the fur itself, yet mask the unwelcome musty tonality that fur coats can accumulate after a while. The names are quite literal: Zibeline (sable), Ermine (hermine), Chinchila, Une Fleur pour Fourrure (A Flower for Furs)...
The very first of those was an expansive floral chypre, conveived as an evocation of the oak forests and steppes of imperial Russia and appropriately named after the animal there captured: Zibeline, the highest quality in furs for its legendary silky touch, its scarcity value and light weight. Zibeline belonged to the original fragrant trio line-up that launched the business of Perfumes Weil. Introduced in 1928, Zibeline was comissioned by Marcel Weil and composed by Claude Fraysee assisted by his perfumer daughter, Jacqueline. (The Fraysee clan is famous for working in perfumery: His two sons, André and Hybert were to work with Lanvin and Synarome respectively and the son of André, Richard, is today head perfumer at parfums Caron)
Zibeline was released in Eau de Toilette in 1930 but the formulations came and went with subtle differences and their history is quite interesting. First there was Zibeline, then the company issued Secret de Venus bath and body oils product line which incorporated Zibeline among their other fragrances (a line most popular in the US) while later they reverted to plain Zibeline again. The Eau versions of Secret de Venus Zibeline are lighter, with less density while the bath/body oil form approximates the spicy-musky tonalities of the Zibeline extrait de parfum, with the latter being more animalistic. The older versions of parfum were indeed buttery and very skanky, deliciously civet-laden with the fruit and floral elements more of an afterthought and around the 1950s the batches gained an incredible spicy touch to exalt that quality. Later versions of Zibeline from the 70s and 80s attained a more powdery orange blossom honeyness backed up by fruit coupled with the kiss of tonka and sandalwood, only hinting at the muskiness that was so prevalent in previous incarnations, thus resulting in a nostalgic memento of a bygone epoch that seems tamer than it had actually been.
Marcel Weil's death in 1933 did not stop expanding their perfumery endeavours; they added several other perfumes: Bambou, Cassandra and Noir.The Weil family was forced out of France by Hitler, so they re-established themselves in New York from where one of the first perfumes released was Zibeline with the quite different in character chypré Antilope being issued in 1945, upon return to Paris in 1946 when they also introduced Padisha. Sadly the multiple changing of hands resulted in the languishing of the firm by the 1980s and although the brand Weil has been in ownership of Interparfums (Aroli Aromes Ligeriens) since 2002 Parfums Weil is largely unsung and long due for a resurgence.

The smooth dark fur of a living animal –for a change- was the inspiration behind one of the most elusive vintage fragrances: Mouche by Rochas from 1947, created by none other than Edmond Roudnitska who worked for several of the Rochas thoroughbreds (Femme, Moustache, Rose, Mouselline). Marcel Rochas had a cat, named Mouche, which means “fly” in French and the idea to name a fragrance after his cat was both fun and original.
The scent came in the same amphora bottle shape as Rochas’ first creation, Femme, designed by Marc Lalique, but with the outer box with the lacy interlay shaded in turquoise rather than grey. Unfortunately Mouche was all too briefly on the scene: It got discontinued in 1962 and remains a rare collectible.

Lots of other perfumes have been linked to the opulence of fur from lynx, ermine and chinchilla to otter, shearling and karakul. Some of the most characteristic is the demi-chypre/demi-floral 1000 by Patou whose refinement, disconcerting and mysterious complexity render it a difficult but intriguing proposition; or the old version of Piguet’s Baghari, which was quite different and more daring than the more demure aldehydic re-issued. Or think of the words of actress and model Camilla Rutherford reminiscing of her mother: “My mother used to wear fur. Her scent was Cabotine by Gres, and sometimes First by Van Cleef & Arpels, and it would cling to her coat. I remember when she was going out, my sister and I would be pawing her because of the softness of her mink and the scents that came from it.” [3]
But even the most unlikely fragrances can have the most surrealistic connotations implicating fur and its mystique. In one such case of free association, Diorella has been linked to “a new fur coat that has been rubbed with a very creamy mint toothpaste. Not gel. Paste.” [4] Nor are modern fragrances excluded from this wonderful game of synesthesia between touch and smell, between silkiness and swooning. Dzing! composed by Olivia Giacobetti for L’artisan Parfumeur, encapsulates the circus in a bottle with its odours of the great cats, the sawdust in the ring, the leather whip and the cardboard partitions; a wonder which would evoke soft fur even in the absence of it and the perfect accompaniment of a man or a woman on a crisp morning. Muscs Koublaï Khän by Serge Lutens has a silky radiance, warm with the intensity of living beings effortlessly appointed the quintessential parfum fourrure for modern explorers into the terrain of carnal pleasures. And Miller Harris composed L’air de Rien for Jane Birkin (and all of us eventually, as attested by our opinions) to evoke her brother’s hair and her father's pipe, resulting in an animalistic, fantastically ripe and alluring oakmoss and musks blend that would have Guerlain wishing they had come up with such an avant-garde yet also strangely retro composition.
Fur perfumes will continue to hold their fascination for every perfume lover who has been leafing through sepia-tinged old photos with a sigh of unuttered contemplation.

Related reading on Perfume Shrine: Perfume and Furs part 1

[1]Perfumer & Flavorist March 2007
[2]Between 1924-1925, the house of Lanvin House launched NIV NAL, IRISE, KARA - DJENOUN (commemorating an Egyptian journey ), LE SILLON, Apres Sport (all of those were discontinued in 1926), CHYPRE, COMME-CI COMME-CA, LAJEA, J'EN RAFFOLE, LA DOGARESSE, OU FLEURIT L’ORANGER (discontinued in 1940), GERANIUM D’ESPAGNE (discontinued in 1962), friction JEANNE LANVIN, CROSS-COUNTRY, and MON PECHE/MY SIN (discontinued in 1988). (source: Tout en Parfum)
[3]Interview in the Dailymail.co.uk
[4]The Face Aug.2005

Vincent Price and Coral Browne photo by Helmut Newton. My Sin and Mouche ads through Ebay. Mouche bottle via Musee de Grasse. Zibeline bottle pic via cyberattic.com

Frequent Questions: The Difference between the various Christian Dior "Poison" fragrances

Christian Dior has a stable of fragrances all tagged Poison, encased in similarly designed packaging and bottles (but in different colors), often creating confusion to the buyer who wants to know how the various fragrances compare. This article aims to explain the differences and similarities between Poison, Tendre Poison, Hypnotic Poison, Pure Poison and Midnight Poison and their Elixir versions henceforth. Short descriptions of how they smell, perfumers, fragrance notes, color schemes on bottle and box packaging as well as comments on concentration & body products available, longevity and sillage are included.

The Poison series:

To begin in chronological order, first came Poison, the original, in 1985. It wouldn't be an overstatement to say that the original Poison was instrumental in the "loud" reputation that 1980s fragrances acquired. It is a powerhouse tuberose oriental with a berry-spicy-musky interlay, very characteristic of the time, quite excellently-made by Edouard Flechier and smelling great if used in moderation. Purple bottle in dark green box.
Notes for Poison original:
Top: orange blossom, honey, berries, pimento
Heart: cinnamon, coriander, tuberose, pepper, mace, plum, anise, ylang-ylang
Bottom: ambergris, labdanum, opoponax

Available in Eau de Toilette 30/50ml, Esprit de Parfum refillable flacon, deodorant spray, body lotion and shower gel. Some of the body products seem to be discontinued in certain markets.

Tendre Poison was the first "flanker" that came out 9 years later (1994), again composed by Edouard Flechier. It is a light green floral with freesia, a bit sharp and soapy in character. The base is pale woods, with a lightly powdery undertone that backons you closer. Although often referenced as a lighter version of the original Poison there is no comparison really. Tendre Poison is well-behaved, quite pretty and prim outwardly, a little unsmiling and cruel up close. Wears well and easily all year round and has good sillage and longevity. Light green bottle in green box.
Notes for Tendre Poison
Top: mandarin, galbanum
Heart: freesia, orange blossom, heliotrope
Bottom: sandalwood, vanilla

Available in Eau de Toilette 30/50ml, deodorant spray, body lotion and shower gel. Some of the body products seem to be discontinued in certan markets.

Hypnotic Poison came out in 1998, composed by Annick Menardo. The packaging reverted to something more daring, in crimson and a rubbery feel for the Eau de Parfum, so Hypnotic Poison is an almond gourmand oriental with a bitter edge at the start and a smooth vanilla base that contributes to a bewitching scent. Extremely popular (reports say it's a perennial bestseller in south Mediterranean countries, but also the US). Red bottle in dark red box.
Notes for Hypnotic Poison:
Top: bitter almond, caraway
Heart: jasmine sambac, jacaranda wood
Bottom: tree moss, vanilla, musk

Available in Eau de Toilette 30/50ml, deodorant spray, body lotion and shower gel.
There was an Eau de Parfum version previously available which seems to have been discontinued in favour of the Hypnotic Poison Elixir Eau de Parfum Intense.

Pure Poison coming out in 2004 was composed by Carlos Benaim, Olivier Polge and Dominique Ropion. Pure Poison is a radiant, expansive sharp floral with lots of white flowers (yet non indolic, meaning it's not in the least "dirty"), citrus essences and white musks/woods. The overall character is one of a clean, opalescent scent that is quite feminine in contemporary way. Pure Poison has an amazing sillage and is quite wearable year round. Pearl/opal white bottle in deep purple box.
Notes for Pure Poison:
Top: jasmine, sweet orange, Calabrian bergamot and Sicilian mandarin
Heart: orange blossom, gardenia
Bottom: sandalwood, ambergris

Available in Eau de Parfum 30/50ml, deodorant spray 100ml, body lotion and shower gel.

Midnight Poison is a modern "chypre" (in the vein of Narciso, Gucci by Gucci etc.) with subdued roses over a clean patchouli base, producing an abstract cool effect that is very modern. Composed by Olivier Cresp, Jacques Cavallier and Francois Demarchy, it is quite pleasant, if not very remarkable, with a dark green background that has a mysterious vibe aimed at the modern seductress.
Midnight-blue bottle in dark blue box.
Notes for Midnight Poison:
Top: mandarin orange, bergamot
Heart: rose
Bottom: patchouli, vanilla, amber

Available in Eau de Parfum 30/50ml, Extrait de Parfum, deodorant spray, body cream, body lotion and shower gel.

The Poison series Elixirs:

The various Dior Elixirs composed by Francois Demarchy came out with the aim to offer a more intense sensation blending the opulent base notes of the original Poison, along with individually selected flavours. The packaging is adorned with bulb atomisers on the bottle, boudoir-style. Each bottle replicates the colour scheme of the original fragrances they're named after. The formula is not silicone-based, but alcoholic, meaning it is sprayed like a regular Eau de Parfum.

Pure Poison Elixir was the first Elixir version for Poison and came out in 2006. Although the notes denote a quite different scent, the truth is there is no major difference with the previous Pure Poison, except for a sweeter, a tad powdery and warmer base that stays on the skin for an extremely long period of time.
Notes for Pure Poison Elixir:
Top: petitgrain, orange, green mandarin
Heart: orange blossom, jasmine sambac
Bottom: sandalwood, amber, almond, vanilla, cocoa absolute

Available in Eau de Parfum intense 30/50ml, body cream.

Hypnotic Poison Elixir came out in 2008. Based on the original Hypnotic Poison fragrance it includes a licorice-star anise combination. However it smells quite similar to the regular Hypnotic Poison, although the tenacity is even more phenomenal.

Available in Eau de Parfum intense 30/50ml, body cream.

Midnight Poison Elixir (2008) is based on the original Midnight Poison, enhanced with "intense, voluptuous, flavorful notes of caramel -fruity and toothsome, with an appetizing "toasted" fragrance - and the mellow, enveloping aromas of vanilla". It quite similar to the regular Midnight Poison apart from the sweeter caramel base which seems to kilter it off balance. Extremely tenacious as well.

Available in Eau de Parfum intense 30/50ml.

Special Valentine's Editions (2008) exist for Hypnotic Poison, Pure Poison and Midnight Poison in Eau de Toilette concentration in specially designed 40ml (1.38 fl.oz.) bottles.

Pics courtesy of Fragrantica.com

When a Perfectly Good Scent is Ruined by Association

I remember Amarige like I remember physical catastrophes I have lived through or heard through the retelling of elders, almost since the dawn of time. I remember Amarige with the abject horror we reserve in the farthest pockets of terror we keep in our innermost chthonian thoughts, ripe for sowning on a hot summer's day when the pending coming of the Antichrist doesn't seem too far away. I remember Amarige like the miasma of a horde of Attila the Hun sweeping through Asia and Europe till he is abruptly stopped by his own debauchery bedding a 16-year-old.
What prompted this tirade of evil reminiscences? Simply put, a timely comment by one of our readers, Sarah G, who asked if I had any recollection of having a scent completely "ruined" by associating with someone. Do I have one!

Amarige by Givenchy is a typhoon, no doubt about it, and it has earned its fair share of detractors through the years, as much as admirers. What however irrevocably sealed its fate for me was having to smell it spritzed five times under each armpit on the otherwise pristine shirts of someone close to me. The strange ritual was founded in the received knowledge that antiperspirants based on aluminum block sweat glands and therefore discouraged by doctors, who prompted to offer an alternative suggested a mist of cologne on clothes for a refreshing feeling. Little did they know they had opened the sacks of Aeolus! Amarige must have some redeeeming quality, yet refreshing cologne it isn't, by any stretch of the most perverse imagination. But to someone who is enjoying the suffocating chemical tuberose emanations, it must have smelled like the first day of summer. Alas it was my destiny to be around and it was its destiny to lose what advantage it might have had over my epithelium. Thus Amarige has been for ever associated with doom for me...Not that I consider it a good scent. But you get my point (it could happen to anything, even my beloved Lutens or vintage Guerlains!)

The matter of association is of the utmost importance when it comes to scents: we associate our mother's smell with comfort, our dad's with security, our loved ones' with feeling appealing and alive, our enemies' with displeasure; of warm bread out of the oven with satiety and of cold steel with fear entering a doctor's office for a much dreaded medical exam; of cut hay with the promise of summer vacations and of putrid water with disgust and anihillation. Scent poses its own universe of subconscious reality from each we often cannot escape. With every breath, with every quivering of the nostrils, we catch subtle or not so subtle wafts of essences which volatilize into holograms of all too real fantasy.
And it is most disappointing when those negative associations have to do with fine fragrance, fragrance which we might have chosen for ourselves or simply enjoyed smelling in the air, if only it weren't for that tangible web of memory which ruins it for us.

So, do you have similar cases of having a fragrance ruined for you through association? Let me hear those horror stories for twisted Little Red Riding Hoods now...

Photography by Jean Baptiste Mondino, courtesy of mondino-update

Leather Series 12: the Modern Leathers

After the Big Bruisers of the 80s, so ingrained into the decade of decadence and carnality, leather scents took a back seat until the modern fragrance niche phenomenon erupted like a well-oiled explosive mechanism, issuing forgotten ripples into the stagnant pond of ozonic-marines of the early 90s. Suddenly those “weird” smells were cool again!

Modern leather scents are divided in so many categories it was a Herculean feat trying to sort them out. There is a leather fragrance for every mood these days.
So this little list is meant to help you navigate your way through the plethora on offer, but it's by no means a definitive guide: that would implicate your own nose.



*The Orientalised Leathers
When leathers take a turn for the Middle East or the exotic spices and dried fruits caravan.

Cuir Mauresque by Serge Lutens: a Moorish scent (therefore of Spanish Leather tradition), it infuses cuir with clove, mandarin rind and aloeswood to turn the smoky heart of Tabac Blond into a modern, sweeter alternative with a little funk.
Cuir Ottoman by Parfums d’Empire: described by a dear friend as “feeling like actually wearing a leather couch” it is uber-luxe, very warm and opulent.
Ambre Russe by Parfums d’Empire: the hangover-ed sister of Cuir Ottoman who drinks dark Russian tea to perk her up.
Cuir Ambré No.3 by Prada: unisex leather with an orientalised twist.
Montale Oud Cuir D'Arabie: intensely leathery with the characteristic mustiness of aromatic oud. For those who go for the potently woody.
Fleur de Peau by Keiko Mecheri: heavy heliotrope over smooth nubbuck, bittersweet, a little soapy, for those who like Daim Blond and can abide sweet leathers.
Parfum d’Habit by Maître Parfumeur et Gantier: lush, with a delectable fruity top married with the rosiness of geranium and patcouli.

*The Quirky Leathers
Some leather fragrances do not want to conform, like spoiled brats who want to do their own thing. Sometimes this is a good thing!

Dzing! by L’artisan: the hide of a living animal, completely weird and therefore compelling. Warm and nuzzling, to some it might even smell like zoo dung, but it might bring out your inner "Cat People".
Black by Bvlgari: rubbery, fetishist and urban. Close to Dzing!, with a more vanillic underlay.
Baladin by De Nicolai: vetiver-smeared leather and you know there is something sophisticated hidding here.
Jean-Luc Amsler Prive Homme: leather nappa stretched on a rock (a mineral touch)
Marquis de Sade by Histoire des Parfums: stewed prunes kept in a leather pouch for consuming au lit, après.
Rose d’Homme by Rosine: or how a rose can smell as sweet by no other name. A bastard who makes you look twice and wins you in the end. For rose-haters.
Idole by Lubin: boozy like a drunken pirate in the Caribbean
Nuit Noire by Mona di Orio: citrus and floral avalanche (orange blossom and tuberose) over an animalic musky and civet-catty note that recalls visions of Lutens at his best.
Corps et Ames by Parfumerie Generale: with a fierce chyprish quality about it, wonderfully unique

*The Butch Leathers
Because some days you want to get out into cow country and never look back.

Lonestar Memories by Andy Tauer: an outdoor smell of leather chaps on someone who has been cooking over a woodfire on a campsite for hours on end. It grabs you and never lets go.
Cuiron by Helmut Lang: an intense slap of leather from an austere designer glove and an invitation to a modern duel
Patchouli 24 by Le Labo: full of birch tar, no patchouli, what a misleading name!

*The Subtle Whisper Leathers
Sometimes there only needs to be a passing whiff...

No.19 by Chanel: the toughness under the white shirt and the powdery iris is the winning combination of elegance.
Kelly Calèche by Hermès: “soles of angel leather” indeed! The prettiest introduction to proper perfumes for a young woman. Quality all the way. A sleeper classic!
Fleur de Narcisse by L’artisan: unattainably heavenly like the rotting corpse of a soldier on a spring field through the eyes of Rimbaud in "Le dormeur de Val" {click Fleur de Narcisse to read the poem and review}.
Dzongkha by L’artisan: the temple smells of wood, but the shoes of the pilgrims left outside have their own tale to recount
Tuscan Leather by Tom Ford Private Blend: opulent aroma of burnt wood and cigar smoke of a poser; rather soft for something named Leather
Vie de Chateau by De Nicolai: starts as traditional cologne, graduates to so much more. Aristocratic.
John Varvatos pour Homme: Varvatos (pronounced Var-VA-tos) is a designer whose name in Greek refers to a man who smells of pungent and quite intense sex juices ~his own! Unfortunately the onomatopoieia has not been entirely successful: it doesn’t smell as such. What a pity: It would have been the perfect ice-breaker!
VIP room: a very interesting, limited edition by the infamous Parisian club house. Suede-like, less sweet than Daim Blond and ultimately a favourite. Too bad it’s getting hard to find!
Etienne Aigner Suede Edition: light, smooth, soft, with a salty undertone of real suede.
Daim Blond by Serge Lutens: suede with sweet apricots and an almondy powdery note, too sweet sometimes.
Cuir Beluga by Guerlain: the merest hint of leather for budding leatheristas, rather sweet.
Habit Rouge by Guerlain: leather hidding under powder; a well-bred gentleman is having a relaxing day at his club.
Cacharel pour Homme: fine suede, rather too traditionally masculine to make a striking impression any more
Kitsune by Armando Martinez: smooth, musky, suede-like and soft like his other nuzzling scents, with a fabulous name.
Histoire d’Eau by Mauboussin: light summery leather that can be worn anywhere really.
Trussardi Donna: why did they reformulate this one? In its white mock croc bottle it was the loveliest torrid affair of feminine flowers and costly nubbuck. I miss it…
Rykiel Woman-not for men! by Sonia Rykiel: a sexy wink of the eye that comes from musk and leather speaks in silence under the mask of powder and amber. Too well blended for anything to pop out.
Vol de Nuit by Guerlain: an exceptional creation that even features a slight hint of leather if you close your eyes and picture Saint-Exupery in his bomber jacket flying over the Sahara.
Shalimar by Guerlain: the bronze deitythat wears this has her eyes kholed and her neck collared with bands of vanillic, powdery leather.
Murasaki by Shiseido: named after the heroine and author of Genji Monogatari (The Tale of Genji),it vibrates into the frequency of purple, soft and fresh like a cosmetic product that stays on you for the day, a sensual reminder.

Read the rest of the Leather Series following these links:
Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4,
Part 5, Part 6, Part 7, Part 8,
Part 9, Part 10, Part 11

Pic of The Avengers and Quills courtesy of Allposters, pic of Marc Jacobs shoes originally uploaded on BlogdorfGoodman

Orange Blossom week: part 2 - sexy aromas

What is it that links orange blossom to sexy aromas? Many of the interpretations of this note in perfumery take advantage of the naturally lush and sexual aroma of the blossoms and in our investigation of this subject we have come up against many interesting tidbits of information that might help elucidate why and how.

The use of perfume as an enhancement and not concealement of genitalia and hormone odours has been in practice till ancient times. It was the knowledgable ancient Egyptian women who used Kyphi rolled in miniscule balls, placed in the vulva. They also used amber mixes and civet. The Hindus also used the smell of female genitalia as a classification point for women, in which no one is left unappareciated. In Shakespeare's times it was common for men and women to offer apples to the object of their affection that had been saturated in the sweat of the armpit. That was meant to be a signification of desire and perhaps an early attempt at judging whether the prospective lover's pheromones would intermingle well with their sensibilities.
In the Memoirs of Casanova, we come across an observation that there is a hidden something in the air of a lover's bedroom that would make it very easy to choose between it and Heaven itself. So much is the infatuation that a beloved's body produces in the soul. And on that note who can forget the infamous epistle of Napoléon to Joséphine when he passionately wrote to her: "Je réviens en trois jours; ne te lave pas!" (I return in three days, don't wash yourself)
Anais Nin and Henry Miller were no strangers to the alchemical nature of the odorata sexualis of a lover that can be enhanced by perfume and Nin's personal choice of Caron's Narcisse Noir (a fragrance rich in orange blossom)and Guerlain's Mitsouko shows an appreciation for blends that enhance a person's natural sexual aroma. Beaudelaire, Flaubert (who kept the mittens of his mistress on a drawer for sniffing purposes), Goethe and Reiner Maria Rilke are also literature figures that occupied themselves with the fragrant nature of seduction.
Even in our more pedestrian times the allure of the erotic has been used to great effect in advertising. From Schocking by Schiaparelli to Ambre Sultan by Lutens to Boudoir by Westwood, many perfumes have claimed to capture in fragrant droplets the odorata sexualis of a woman for seduction purposes. Last olfactory example of this being Tom Ford' attempt at it when he proclaimed that his last fragrance Black Orchid was supposed to smell of a man's crotch. I think not, but hey, you have been warned!

Of course like a plethora of things in life much of the effect of something relies on context. Meaning that leaving youself unwashed would not shill your charms to potential lovers necessarily if some particular smell is not pleasant to them or the sweat is rank. It all has to do with delicate proportion and adjustment. In a fascinating experiment by Paul Jellineck, recounted in Essence and Alchemy, people had been asked to smell versions of well-known frags such as Quelques Fleurs by Houbigant and a traditional eau de Cologne with and without the addition of neroli. In the former case the neroli just mingled with the other floral substances adding a fresh note and balancing them, whereas in the latter it seemed sultry and rich and therefore erotically nuanced. This goes to show that although there is a clear cut path to lust and sexuality, eroticism in perfume as in any other area is complex and subtle, dependent on context and associations that need a delicate hand in placing them there.

So how orange blossom is linked to all these exciting observations? Let me shock you a bit in case you were unaware of the fact. Orange Blossom (as well as jasmine) is filled with the fascinating indole.
According to Encyclopedia Brittanica:

Indole, also called Benzopyrrole, is a heterocyclic organic compound occurring in some flower oils, such as jasmine and orange blossom, in coal tar, and in fecal matter. It is used in perfumery and in making tryptophan, an essential amino acid, and indoleacetic acid (heteroauxin), a hormone that promotes the development of roots in plant cuttings. First isolated in 1866, it has the molecular formula C8H7N.

It is this base ingredient that is so abundant in white florals -among them orange blossom to a moderate degree- that apparently gives a nod to the human aspect of our existence and reminds us of our primeval objects in life: to have sex and procreate. In this context it is no accident that orange blossom is traditionally used in wedding wreaths, as discussed yesterday.
Therefore if a catcall to carnality is your objective, yet you want to go about it more discreetly than resorting to civet (the pungent extract of the anal glands of a species of the Viverridae shaped like a small fox and native to Abysinnia, Java, Borneo, Sumatra and Bengal and farmed in Ethiopia for perfume purposes), orange blossom can be a Heaven sent destined to confine you in the abyss of Hell.

For this purpose there is no better choice than the rich, sultry, lush and totally feminine with a capital F Fleurs d'oranger by Serge Lutens. Luckily a part of the export line, but also available in a beautiful bell jar in the exclusive Palais Royal for Shiseido line of scents, it is the essence of classy sexiness captured in a bottle. Like a woman of mature wiles sitting under an orange grove contemplating serious romance and seduction it is multi-nuanced with precious essences of white jasmine and indian tuberose that enhance the indolic aspect to magnificent proportions, laced with the sprinkle of fiery spice like cumin and nutmeg rolled in tangy citrus peel, all the while exuding aromas of muskiness and floralncy in alrernative overlappings like the tongue of a skillful lover. The inclusion of rose and hibiscus seeds consolidates the velours aspect of a base that never really leaves the skin, reminding you of happy romance even after it is just a distant memory in the farthest corners of your mind.


Next post will tackle another aspect of orange blossom.

Art photography by Spyros Panayiotopoulos, courtesy of eikastikon.gr