Puredistance, the sketchbook

It's not often that I focus on an entire collection for my coloured reviews. The last time I did, the range - Oriza LeGrand- was nicely "ueberschaubar" as we say in German. So many perfume houses launch new bottles at frightening speed these days, making it difficult to keep track, and impossible to find the brand's fragrant identity. 4, 5, 6 - these are good numbers for a small niche brand, at least  in my view.

Another reason for my reluctance to do combined posts is that the designer pedant in me doesn't feel comfortable with creating a blog post with 4 or 5 images without a common theme or feel to them. That would just look higgledy-piggledy. Thankfully some brands do believe in less is more, and when I received a lovely and generous sample set from Puredistance last Christmas I knew I wanted to find a way to cover the entire range in one post. 

There are currently 6 fragrances in the range, all in high pure perfume concentration, a luxurious  indulgence with the price point to match. Created by different perfumers, they nonetheless share a radiant elegance. I'm not attempting to write in depth reviews for all of the scents, but to give a sketchbook-like impression. Stepping away from my usual digital approach and playing around with watercolours seemed like the right way to achieve that.

Once I was satisfied that I had found the right colours for each perfume I used the cropping tool of the past - 2 L-shaped pieces of cardboard- to find the best possible details before finalising the images with the help of various digital filters. 

 

My impressions of the perfumes in order of their release dates:

I

Puredistance I

A green and fresh floral with a backbone. There is lot going on here: citrus, mimosa, rose, magnolia, but  blended to abstraction. An idealised bouquet, created to enhance whoever is wearing it. A very elegant, slightly aloof scent, that's never overpowering but strong in attitude. It's advertised as for women, but I think its a great floral for a man. The right type of men. As for myself : yes, I would happily wear it, although it's a bit out of my comfort zone.

M

Puredistance M

Hmm...this is spicy, warm and edible. Opens classically with a splash of citrus, but a hint of spice and touch of rose are coming along already. Cinnamon, coriander and cumin (not too sweaty, no fear) give way to patchouli and turn into a warm worn out leather. Unsurprisingly, I like this a lot. For a spicy oriental leather it also stays remarkably cool. I wouldn't say understated - it's pretty rich - but its opulence comes without a hint of bling and is not overpowering or cloying. Lovely.

Antonia

Puredistance Antonia

A lot of green. This, in combination with white flowers and rose, makes it a very difficult experience for me. I don't mind indolic scents, but need them to be on the warm, animalic side. Combined here with a metallic freshness from the greens it gives me an immediate headache. Sorry, Antonia, you are not made for me and I can't do you any justice, so let's move on to...

Opardu

Puredistance Opardu

Powder floral with a punch. Now that I can understand better. Lilac or hyacinth paired with white flowers. While the jasmine and tuberose are not exactly dirty here (far from it), it's nonetheless a sensual fragrance, if you give it the time to get there. Opardu has undeniably a strong old fashioned vibe in a No sex before marriage sort of way and while I admire the quality of the perfume, I'm not loving it. I'm ultimately not prim and proper enough to wear it and would feel like a fraud if I did. 

Black

Puredistance Black

I had covered Black in more depth here, but of course it will also play it's part in these colour sketches. An astonishing number of perfumes are called Black, or Black this-and-that, and more often then not they contain not even a whiff of darkness. Black by Puredistance definitely deserves its name, and like I described in my original post, the black serves as a layer of mystery to hide what's really underneath and within. I detect sour cherries and booze with a hint of bitter chocolate. A whiskey based cocktail of very adult fruitiness- indulgent and intoxicating. Love it.

White

Puredistance White

I remember when I got a sample of this about a year ago and thought:"Oh, no, a white. That's going to be either an ultra clean musk thing, or a tuberose bomb." Fortunately it is neither. What it is instead should still be, in theory, totally not up my street, and yet... it is. It seems I have found a clean rose floral that I can enjoy, certainly helped by accompanying notes of tonka bean, orris and sandalwood. Very radiant and sparkling, super feminine, white, red, gold and purple. If it was an outfit, it would be a casual silk blouse in creamy white over a pair of white Marlene Dietrich trousers. A timeless classic, whether you're barefoot, in trainers, or sporting your 10 inch stilettos. Beautiful.

So these were my sketch like impressions of the perfumes Puredistance currently has in its range. All the scents - even my dislike Antonia - are very sophisticated and of high end quality. Not necessarily pushing the boat out in terms of innovation, but if you make things that well, you can afford not to care much for the new and the trendy. My personal favourites are Black and M, with White on a surprise 3rd rank. The idea to use watercolour to illustrate the fragrances was initially based on my wish to create sketch-like first impressions, but the longer I worked on this post the more I realised that the art of watercolour and Puredistance's approach to perfumery have a few things in common: 

Lightness of touch and clarity 

Ragu

If you google the words "Ragu recipe" and read everything that comes up at least 4 pages in, you will find yourself puzzled and probably slightly frustrated. While for many of us a ragu, or Italian meat sauce, is the ultimate comfort food, the steps leading to this simple pleasure are slippery, because EVERYONE has an opinion and they all differ. What type of meat, wine, or no wine, red or white, stock or no stock, milk???, passata or puree, how much celery, and how many bloody hours does it need to simmer? 

People swear that theirs is the one and only, handed down from a long line of ancestors since the beginning of the Italian Renaissance, found in barely legible recipe books hidden away from Barbaric hordes during the siege of Rome.... you get the gist. And then there are the modern preachers of innovative cooking, like Heston Blumenthal and his molecular disciples. They ask you to use sous-vides here, and dried ice over there, to pulverise your meat and to explode your toms, just for the fun of it.

Needless to say that in this household we have our own, ultimate version. Developed over a few years, tweaked to perfection. Our perfection, that is. Because the beauty of a ragu is that it makes you feel at home, save and at ease with the world. Whatever is needed to achieve your personal meat sauce heaven is allowed. (Having said that, the idea of putting milk in it is  of course just plain weird!)

Interestingly, not many perfumes actively seek out to smell of savoury dishes. All the gourmand scents I know cater to the sweet toothed amongst us and there is a fair amount of fragrant love for alcoholic beverages, but a scent that smells of cooking is a rare thing, indeed. It therefore takes some guts to call your creation "Italian meat sauce" and Ragu by Gabriella Chieffo, certainly is an unusual scent, not just for the name.

My visual interpretation of Ragu, by Gabriella Chieffo

Ragu opens with a burst of orange and pink pepper. And quite some burst it is. Fresh, tingly and aromatic. And then the perfume seductively asks you if you want some more pepper with it, grinding the mill before you even had a chance to answer. Now it's the black variety - strong, direct, and not taking any prisoners. At this stage the fragrance feels dry, sharp and even a  bit grainy, be aware that if you don't like pepper you will not enjoy this ride. After an hour or so on my skin, other spices come to play, mainly nutmeg and cloves, and their deeper, sweeter aromas give the perfume now a gentler and more feminine touch. It mellows, presenting itself in a different texture now, far creamier, and rounder. I cannot really detect any tomato notes in the perfume, but there is  a fleshier, juicier aspect to this stage of the scent and it more and more feels like a good ragu sauce has just come together. The final phase of the perfume involves leather and woody notes and a slowly simmering solidity takes over the earlier bursts and bubbles. In terms of colour it wasn't easy to pin down, Ragu delights more in its textural aspects, but I've decided to stay with mostly red and earthy hues to emphasise the warmth the fragrance offered me. Nice. Very nice, and more than a bit more-ish. 

How and where to wear:

In the privacy and comfort of your own space.

 

Puredistance Black, and other colours

     First things first: Happy New Year. 

I haven't posted anything for a while, a fact for which I can partly blame an over indulgence in all things Christmas and Kuscheligkeit. But my absence from perfume and the blog was also for another, rather different and  unpleasant reason. After trying out a new scent I had developed a severe skin rash. Both arms and hands were covered in itchy little bumps. My skin is always super sensitive in winter, but this was something new and unexpected. And also worrying. Not wanting to risk a full blown perfume allergy, I decided not to try any new fragrances for a while, sprayed any old favourites only sparingly on scarves and clothes, and kept the cortisone creme nearby. I'm glad that it went away and everything seems to be fine now, but I will probably be a bit weary about new perfumes and use less delicate areas of my skin for testing. The last scent I did test (not the one which gave me the rash) and wanted to write about was Puredistance Black, of which I had won a sample from the lovely Vanessa of bonkers about perfume. 

Puredistance, a Dutch fragrance house, had released the scent in 2013 with some rather unusual marketing. "Do not try to pick out notes and dissect, just emerge and enjoy." Not their exact words, but in essence that was what they wanted us to do. Needless to say, it annoyed a few people. Nobody likes to be told how to enjoy a perfume, me included, but for two reasons this didn't bother me all that much. 1.) It was a gift, 2.) Sometimes I like to create an image for a perfume but can't find an interesting angle for writing about it. Black is one of those perfumes. The idea for the image was there right from the beginning, but I failed when I tried to put it into words. And since it's the New Year, and all things New are allowed: I have decided that image only post are fine from now on. You might see quite a few of those in the future. I also want to introduce something like the Colour of the Day, which might not actually be linked to any perfume but just an image to illustrate my mood and thoughts. This is, after all, a blog about perfume AND colour. 

Today this colour happens to be Black:

My visualisation of Black by Puredistance

The inspiration for the image came from something I learned in primary school many, many years ago: Use waxy crayons and randomly fill your entire page. Then paint a thick layer of black ink top top. Once the ink has dried, use a sharp, pointy tool to draw and scratch away the black layer. The lines will make the underlaying colours appear. Good fun. This simply technique feels like a suitable way to visualise this perfume, which is a bit mysterious, warm and deep. It stays very close to skin and lasts forever. When I scratched at the layer of Black I got sour cherry and whiskey, with a hint of chocolate. (Cheating now, I know...) What you will get might be, no, will be totally different. 

How and where to wear:

Skin scents don't get much deeper than this, surprise those who will get close enough to smell you.

Absolue Pour le Soir

Sometimes you don't need many words to describe a perfume. The kinkiest scent around is probably all you need to know about Absolue Pour le Soir by Francis Kurkdijan. Amazing.

My visual interpretation of Absolue Pour le Soir

How and where to wear:

You will be under no doubt once you've tried it.

El Born, it takes all sorts...

Spanish perfume house Carner have dedicated their 5th scent, El Born, to the ueber trendy local borough in Barcelona of the same name. My personal memory of Barcelona is a bit hazy but I certainly wouldn't mind a refresher any time soon, not least because the city has become a bit of a perfume destination. I have tried the whole Carner range before and while I certainly liked them, I found longevity to be a bit of an issue. Considering they are all created around woody notes, I thought they should last longer. But there is a certain aesthetic about their fragrances, a moody, warm and somehow languished sensuality, that appeals to me and I was happy to try their latest creation.

El Born has 2 distinctive phases for me. The first, which I call the wet one, is a strong honey and angelica mix with some added citrus notes. This honey has been made by bees who get stupidly drunk on strong cocktails on a daily basis. Well, the bee equivalent of a cocktail obviously. The sweet/sour/booze mix is interesting, but quite 'in your face' and I sit through this first half hour a bit impatiently because I want the second, dry phase to begin. The one that screams:

My visual interpretation of El Born, by Carner

LIQUORICE ALLSORTS! Because that is what is, in all its delicious glory. The list of notes is long and let's say, colourful, and congratulations to anyone who is able to sniff out half of them, but for me it's all a blend to conjure up the liquorice. If you like your allsorts and your black wheels, this scent will make you very, very happy. Otherwise you might want to stay away. It covers the whole spectrum of the legendary candy, the woody bits, the strange salty sourness you get when you munch on the all black stuff and your teeth get funny, the fruitiness from all pastel coloured ones, and the creamy sweetness from the yellow/brownish bits.  When I was a child, I hated liquorice, but these days it's a flavour I like to find in whiskeys, wines, gins and... perfumes. Alcohol makes a lot of things better.

It has excellent staying power and good projection. Once the dry phase has started it gets gently softer and softer until vanilla replaces the fruity sourness. All in all, a wonderful and sweet-wood fragrance for those who like their Haribo with a shot of spirits. Of course, there was no way I could resist using the marvellous colours of the Liquorice allsorts world for my visual. It might not be exactly what Carner had in mind, but for me it totally works. Also: sorry for headline pun but again, irresistible.

How and where to wear:

A perfect choice for a long night out. I bet it will smell lovely on a hot summers evening in Barcelona, while you desperately wait for the restaurants to open and serve you some food. 

At 10 p.m. 

Oriza L.LeGrand Part Two

The second part of my review of the delightful perfumes of French house Oriza L.LeGrand will start with one of the scents I was most looking forward to:

Horizon

Just have a look at the bottle design. Isn't it pretty? I love the pattern on the label, but by now you probably know that I love patterns. The typeface makes all the right noises towards the roaring twenties and the description from the website is mouthwatering:

The materials, colors, shapes symbolize a new freedom and portend, at the dawn of the Roaring Twenties, the hope of a new HORIZON.

At the height of its history and in its own way to celebrate the Roaring Twenties and the International Exhibition of Decorative Arts in 1925, the House Oriza L. Legrand created HORIZON, Oriental fragrance for boys and tomboys, fragrance of Precious Woods and Ambergris agreements Tabac Blond and Soft Leather.

And whether your time travel destination to celebrate all this decadence is Paris, Berlin or Chicago.....it's most definitely  a big city. Urban. The 20's in deep rural countryside? That's  depression and hunger. No one wants to smell like that. So why oh why to I get this whiff of barnyard?  But one step after the other. I should get: Bitter Orange, confit tangerine and dried rose.  I do get orangey leather and and a hint of barnyard. Next should be amber cognac, oak, patchouli and tobacco leaves and almonds. And I do get patchouli, tobacco and something that could be almonds, with a hint of barnyard. I usually don't do this note comparison thing, but Horizon is leaving me not much of a choice, because it smells so different from what I expected. If I compare it to the other 20's retro scent I have recently tested, Speakeasy by Frapin, it feels about 100 years older. 
Don't get me wrong, that can be a good thing, but apart from a hint of booze and fags there isn't much that suits the Tanz auf dem Vulkan that I was looking for. I had to wear it 3 times before I understood something quite fundamental: This perfume REALLY tries to capture Paris in the 20's. Not Chicago and Berlin . This perfume isn't hinting at extremism, hunger of life and sexual liberation bordering on perversion fighting against a Prussian sense of Ordnung. It has an altogether gentler, happier and warmer approach. And if that includes a bit of barnyard, so be it. When I think of the 20's, I think of the the paintings of  Georg Grosz, but Horizon is less Expressionism, more Surrealism and Dada. Its structure is soft and warm, more Josephine Baker than Sally Bowles. And suddenly, with that in mind, I begin to like it. And the longer I wear it, the better it gets and it does have good staying power,  but there is  a lack of...Want. I like it, admire it, but I don't I want it. 2 out of three ain't bad, but not enough to justify a FB. 

How and where to wear:

Not an easy perfume to pull off to full effect, I suggest you wear it to a party and dance your heart out. I have the feeling that it will work incredibly well with a bit of fresh sweat.

And now to something entirely different:

Relique d'Amour

We all have perfumes and scents that transport us to places, remind us of people, bring up images. These olfactory connections can vary in strength and detail and are usually most significant when they involve people we loved (or hated), situations that had great impact on our lives and places we have experienced strong emotions.  But sometimes a smell hits us like with a déjà vu moment, that nagging feeling of having been there before... playing tricks with our minds and questioning our sanity. What happened to me with Relique d'Amour is a combination of both. It brought me back to a place where I've had a déjà vu many years ago.

I am not at all a religious person, but I do love visiting churches and do so whenever there is an opportunity. I've seen many many beautiful ones (Romanesque cathedrals being a favourite) and quite a few really ugly ones (usually poor old medieval structures blinged up to suit 18th century tastes and pseudo Gothic Victorian absurdities).  Sometimes feel a bit like an intruder, knowing full well that I am not believing in anything that is prayed for and preached in there but simply enjoying the architecture and art without any of the religious baggage. When I was travelling through Italy I obviously had ample opportunity for church tourism and it was in Pisa that I happened upon one of those unremarkable, late Baroque, not mentioned in any guide books churches which provide a welcome cool relief from the heat outside. Damp, cold stone, windows black from 200 years of pollution, pigeons in the roof. If you wanted to see more of the paintings that hang in various chapels you had to insert a coin (still Lira at that time) and a stream of light would barely manage to illuminate the minor work of a long forgotten pupil of some famous school. This was a place of worship with a dusty and gloomy atmosphere, only ever visited by the priests and old women wearing black and I wanted to leave again quickly, but there was a smell wafting intriguingly from one of the side chapels and I stepped inside. Here it was even darker and I could swear also colder then in the rest of the building. And all over the tiny place, the altar, the steps, the walls, the entry gates were draped lilies. In vases, wrapped into bundles, single flower stems, dried, freshly cut, rotten, decaying. Giving off a smell so intoxicating, so intense that I nearly stumbled backwards. I felt like someone had been walking over my grave. The hairs on my skin stood up and my heart skipped a beat. I had seen all this before. I was sure and it didn't feel right. I had to get out of the chapel, out of the church and into the next bar for a coffee. I can't tell you why, but that little chapel had scared me. Not to death, obviously, but really badly. It hadn't been my first encounter with the smell of lilies and  not my first gloomy church, but something in there had given me the creepiest déjà vu I have ever had. To this day. 

My visualisation of Relique d'Amour

And then comes Relique d'Amour and transports me right back there. After more than 20 years. You can guess now that it's a lily perfume. It starts with a very cold, almost icy accord and it takes some time for all the lilies to come into the open, but when they arrive they do so to an extent that is frightening. Well, to me it is. There is moss growing on cold stones, wax on well worn wood, a ton of  incense and other balmy things being thrown at me, but it will always and foremost be a lily. Magnificent and  beautiful. Melancholic and cold, pure and toxic, mysterious. In terms of colour it's a white, of course, but with lots of cold grey and black. Completely feminine but totally unsexy in my view, although M. seems to differ on the latter. By now I have worn it  3 times and the effect it had on me the first time doesn't repeat itself quite so vividly anymore. It will always remind me of that church and that moment, but it has become a fragrance that I can wear and appreciat  for its own sake. It is a very special creation and I'm glad to have been introduced to it. If I had the funds to buy a FB right now I probably would, because it's a stunning example of its genre from a collectors point of view. I know this is not a very neutral and informative review, but it is as it is...

How and where to wear:

You are dating an Italian man and are going to meet his mama? This will be perfect.


Given that these two reviews are much longer than I anticipated, I will stop here and cover the remaining fragrances in another, 3rd post. 

Oriza, L.LeGrand perfume reviews, Part One

A few months ago fellow perfume blogger Kafkaesque mentioned the French perfume house Oriza L.LeGrand and their good value sample sets on twitter. A quick look at their website showed some rather beautifully designed labels and retro bottles, and as I'm easily persuaded by nice looking things, I ordered it. The set has been sitting in my drawer for quite some time, but now that I have sampled them all I want to write down my combined impression of all the scents in two posts. First of all, I'm never quite sure what to make of these reenacted perfume houses, and in all honesty I don't really care whether they have been powdering wigs since the 18th century or produced soap for the Pope when he took refuge in Avignon, but I'll give you the back story in short:

Oriza L.LeGrand was founded in 1720, the company claim to have invented the solid perfume in 1887,  won prices at a number of World Trade fairs and then went off the radar until 2013.  It has now been revived with a collection of, so far, 7 perfumes and various candles, soaps and skin care products. The samples I ordered came in a little envelope with a leaflet proudly stating:"Aux Armes de France & de Russie" which I thought was a bit trying too hard. I have tried all 7 fragrances , 6 of them in depths. Overall I have to say that the scents are very, very interesting and intriguing. They are aiming to be true to historic recipes and the description and the typographical design of the labels give a good idea of what the perfumers intended to create. Not one of them is in any way trying to be modern, subtle or "ironic".  

To have that out of the way first: I can't review Oeillet Louis XV. It's a carnation so true to it's name that it makes me gag. Sorry for that, but I have a real problem with carnations. If anyone wants the sample, please drop me a note, I'm happy to give it to a carnation loving home.

Reve d'Ossian

Is inspired by 18th century cycle of The Celtic poems by James Macpherson of which I know very little (Mendelssohns Fingal's cave ouverture doesn't really count, I assume). This is a dry woody incense perfume, reminding me not so much of a full on Roman Catholic church incense (more of that later) but of the little cone things you can put inside wooden figurines to make them "smoke". Raeuchermaennchen. Very popular in Germany, those.

And may be because it reminds me of childhood, I like the fragrance. It has a pine wood, fir needles and christmas quality to it, the incense typical melancholy and it just smells good. There is also, but that is probably down to my memories playing havoc, a savoury, dried and cured meat element hidden somewhere. The note description lists Tonka Bean and cinnamon, and I can detect those sweeter notes, but I wouldn't call RO a sweet incense. This is a perfume for winter. Proper winter. Not that sludge and rain we have had since November. It has quite a low sillage on me, stays linear during the dry down and lasts about 6 hours on my skin. It's a very nice alternative to some of the stronger, more acrid scents of the genre, and I will wear my sample when I need some real winter comfort. I've chosen mostly muted colours and lots of black for the image, but it's a warming scent, and I've tried to find an abstract way of representing the element of flames and smoke. It would actually make a nice pattern for a rug,  placed in front of the fireplace of a mid century decorated home.  

My visual interpretation of Reve d'Ossian

How and where to wear:

You come in from the cold and the heating hasn't kicked in yet. A wood burning stove or open fire would be great, but your fireplace has been ripped out when they converted the Victorian terrace house into flats sometime in the 80's. Put the kettle on and take a good sniff.

Deja le Printemps

Spring has sprung. Green things are forcing themselves through the ground. Hello grass, hello birds, hello flowers. Deja le Printemps is a very very green fragrance with some sprinkles of colour, but the spring it represents is in its early days, so not all that much is out in the open yet. Some herbs, a bit moss, and a lot of:

My visual/typographical interpretation of Deja le Printemps

A fresh, herby grassy scent, quite strong in the opening, that, given it's green notes, lasts remarkably long (6 hours) on me. I can sense camomile, mint, and all sorts of other plants you would find on a meadow in spring but nothing is sticking out too much for attention, at least not in the beginning. Later in the dry down the lily of the valley makes a more distinguished appearance, and behind all the freshness lurks a sinister element, some sort of fairy living in dark and dangerous woods, preying on foolish humans. As much as I admire the structure and the execution: this perfume is quite extraordinary, but not for me. I'm too much of an urban creature. I will, however, give this scent to M. and see what he makes of it. I have a feeling that it will work better on a man, urban or not. 

How and where to wear:

Be a (naughty) Faun for a day

This is the end of part One of my Oriza LeGrand post, I will cover the remaining fragrances Chypre Mousse, Horizon, Relique d"Amour and Jardin d'Armide
in the next days

Happy Hour Special: Speakeasy by Frapin

A few months ago M. and I went to Berlin for a long weekend. Together with friends we had  rented a flat in the fashionable Prenzlauer Berg district and life was good. One evening on the way back to the apartment, our bellies full of Schnitzels and potato dumplings, we recognised a brightly lit corner shop. It wasn't just your average open till late serving for the night owls type of corner shop. It was a proper specialist liqueur and wine store, with shelves after shelves of interesting bottles containing precious juices. The owner was a young Turk and a real spirits aficionado. Not only did he know his stuff, he had a lot of it as well. A fantastic selection of Whiskeys, Malts and Blends, Brandys, Cognacs, Rums and Gins. This quintessentially British tipple seems to enjoy a great new following on the continent and of course, they try to do their own now. 

The bottle we ended up buying was a limited edition Berlin distilled Gin, named Berliner Brandstifter*, which smells and tastes of woodruff and elderflowers. It's dangerously delicious.  *Berliner arsonists, but it's also a pun on "gifting" a "liqueur"

The whole process of admiring the bottles, talking to an enthusiastic sales person, being able to sniff and even taste some of the open bottles reminded me a lot of perfume buying and M. and I started thinking that opening a combined perfume and liqueur boutique is a fantastic idea. If we did that we would be travelling all over Europe and beyond in search of the loveliest of smells and tastes and aromas. From the best Mirabelle Austria can offer to the foulest smelling Italian Grappa, from independent perfume houses in Barcelona's medieval back streets to candle factories on the coast of Ireland. We liked the idea. A lot. We imagined having a theme of the month, comparing the use of, let's say peach or rhubarb   

                                                               notes in both categories and...........................

Yes, we did get a bit carried away. The gin was, as I said, delicious. But since then I have become more interested in perfumes with a boozy note.  A perfume named Speakeasy has had therefore not much trouble to get my attention. Even better when this perfume is a collaboration between the house of Frapin and Marc-Antoine Cortacchiato, the perfumer and owner of Parfum d'Empire. Not paying homage to one particular alcoholic beverage but the concept of prohibition and how to cheat it in style, it was bound to be an interesting mix.

My interpretation of Speakeasy by Frapin

It starts with a shot of lime with a sugar crust. Have you ever had a T-Punch? It's a popular aperitif/cocktail in France, made of Rum, cordial, lime juice and, in my case, some brown sugar for extra crunch. Very squaffable, and nice in summer and winter. Speakeasy's opening is like an olfactory version of it. Lime green with some sugar freckles. This aromatic splash is then followed by a hint of mint and some immortelle, which now turns the colours of this fragrance into a bright yellow. And it gets brighter and brighter as the sweetness of it takes over and just when I think:"That's too much now", a smoky note starts to develop and the balance is shifting. The slightly tarty sweetness  is now accompanied by a tobacco/leather mix and becomes much more bearable. This transition is my favourite. Fortunately it's also is the most long lasting. In general, Speakeasy is quite a stayer, and not exactly a whisperer either. The last accords before it vanishes are soft, dry smoke with just a hint of fruityness.

It has a jazzy vibe to it and I tried to capture that in my image. A lovely boozy perfume, unusual and fun. I am more than happy to take it out for a night in town. Or three.

How and where to wear:

For one of those nights when you're either not drinking at all (perfume works as a substitute), or drinking a lot (you will at least remember that you did smell very nice throughout)

Determined women image via flickr from foxtongue, some rights reserved

It's not just black and white...

...at least not in equal amounts.

It's probably not very difficult to guess who would win in a battle of black vs. white in fragrance names. If you go on basenotes and search for black (in English and French) you get 1054 hits in the product category, whereas white only brings up a meagre 296. 

I just have to look at my admittedly not very big perfume collection (getting there...) to confirm this. Apart from a sample of Lalique's White, I don't own any other scent with this colour in its name, and the only other one I ever tried was White Linen, by Estee Lauder. It smelled exactly like I imagined, of white, innocent bedsheets. Terribly uninteresting but reassuring. Blacks on the other hand I have quite a few as I'm sure so have most perfumistas and my findings (you can probably tell I was a bit bored this afternoon) are not at all unexpected.

But, what about the ever entertaining competition game between the Anglo Saxons and the French?

                       

Black 921 versus Noir 133. That did come as a surprise, at least to me. 

Sorry, the French. 

                                                 

Man in black beret image via flickr from Bob Jagendorf, some rights reserved

Am I being reasonable?

Beatnik

Winter is coming. Not my favourite time of year, with some exceptions: Ginger bread, stews, soups and other heavy food, Christmas trees and hot baths. I assume I'll find the ginger bread when I go to Lidl this week and the hot baths season has already started. I like all kinds of fragrant oils and bubbly soaps in the bath and Lush does some fun things that are sometimes just the ticket. Many people hate Lush for what they describe as olfactory noise, stinking up shopping malls and high streets. I was always fairly tolerant to the nasal onslaught, but still, the idea of going perfume shopping at Lush never occurred to me. Just too much goes on on there, screaming at your nostrils. Well, you read this book and that blog and live to learn that Lush has a decent perfume range. Opinions about quality differ, but it certainly got me intrigued. The first thing I tried in the shop was called The Voice of Reason. Cool name.

 "It's dedicated to the written word, like, you know, ideas... and that time in Paris when people were sitting in bars and smoking cigarettes." O-tone from the very, very enthusiastic and very, very young shop assistant. I felt positively ancient because I can remember people smoking in bars and used to do that myself, sometimes even in Paris. Philosophy and smoking go well together, visually. And olfactory? An ashtray smell is not everyones cup of tea, but if well done even that can be a vital ingredient to a wonderful perfume. Balance is everything. So, is this Voice of Reason reasonable?

My visual interpretation of The Voice of Reason, Lush

Of course it isn't. Where would be the fun in that. This perfume smells of all things unhealthy. Smoke, cold ashtrays, hot ashtrays, booze in various forms and colours, strong coffee, liquorice, sweat, flesh. Not one for delicate natures. When I open the little bottle (they do a 5 ml version) it actually reeks. But it's totally bewitching at the same time and I want to smell more of it to see what happens. On skin it develops slowly, the smokiness gets softer and drier, and sweeter and gentler notes make themselves heard, but it's still quite a beast of a perfume. I'll use that one sparingly, but it stays close to the skin. Many people will hate it, I think it's great. It's the fragrance version of all things that your parents ever warned you about. I'm soon hitting menopause and still find that cool, so make of that what you will.


Edit: A few days after I wrote this review I got felled by a really bad cold. Not being able to smell anything is quite annoying (and I am bored) so I tried a few perfumes by sniffing at their bottles. VoR is incredible. Not only can I actually smell it through my blocked nose, it feels like it crept out of the bottle like some living creature, a djinny, and it still stays with me after half an hour although I didn't put it anywhere on my skin or clothes. (And no, I don't have a fever.)

How and where to wear:

Well, what can I say? A bar? In Paris? Wearing a black turtleneck? 

Who am I to tell you how to wear your perfume anyway? 

  Beatnik image via flickr from Dunechaser, some rights reserved