The Patchouli Pigment

I have neglected the blog for a long time... and I don' even know why. Yes, there are other things on my mind, and may be I just needed a break, but more importantly, I didn't find the inspiration to write. After a while this inspiration hurdle becomes higher and higher and somewhat impossible to overcome. A bit like having missed going to the gym for months and finding it harder and harder to overcome the guilty laziness. I'm therefore quite relieved to have discovered something exciting that sparked that all important interest again. And true to the blog, but with a reversed direction, it's all about colour. 

Patchouli is one of my favourite perfume ingredients. The hippy association doesn't bother me in the slightest, and is anyway not really justified. The unassuming bushy plant is not as precious as, let's say, jasmine or roses, but equally potent. Rich, deep, earthy, fresh, herbal, mossy, damp, smoky, rank, green, soft, balmy, medicinal, dirty, woody, glowy. The attributes for patchouli span over a wide range. Like so many natural ingredients, the actual quality of the scent varies, depending on batch, origin, cultivation and age. So how to describe all this in just one single colour, or pigment? I don't even try. Or, I normally wouldn't, and approach the note via a perfume composition, making it easier to be specific. In one fragrance the patchouli is a mossy green, or a woody brown, and in the next one it  pops up as a minty nile green. As I said, I normally wouldn't...

But then, suddenly, a new colour appears in my watercolour palette, and I realise: 

I have found the Patchouli Pigment! 

 Colour swatch of Daniel Smith "Rich Green Gold" watercolour on paper

Pigment PY 129. Even its name points towards the patchouly (the PY actually stands for Pigment Yellow). According to the Art Pigment Database  it's a copper derived, metallic complex. A rich deep greenish gold, equally dark and bright, it blends wonderfully with either earthy and bright tones. In this case the pigment comes in a tube of Daniel Smith watercolours, an American fine art paints brand, and my newest art supply obsession. Just squeezing the paint out of the tube is a delight. Like most watercolour paints, it's transparent, allowing for a multiple of layers. If applied thinly in a wet wash, it is beautifully translucent gold while thicker application produces a very muddy, yellowish green. For me it's a perfect visual representation of patchouli's qualities.

While writing this blog I'm wearing the truest patchouli in my collection: Les Nereides, Patchouli Antiques. A retro style perfume, in which the patchouli has centre stage and is rendered in a balmy, and ever so slightly dirty way. I thought about creating a separate image for it, but decided against. Let the patchouli note and colour speak for itself this time. 

Liquid wood - Odin New York's Lacha

When I started working on this blog, I initially thought about creating very simple and plain visuals. Just a few colour blocks or stripes in a Pantone colour swatch sort of way, filtering everything down to one or two colours per scent. I liked the simplicity and felt that there was conceptual strength in keeping everything clear and uncluttered. The very first blog posts still show images that had been designed with that idea in mind. But a very strong concept can have the down side of being restricting (for the creator) and ultra boring (for the reader). Limiting myself to a couple of coloured squares to describe complex olfactory creations just didn't work in the long(er) run. Yes, this blog is about colour and perfume, and I always start working with a palette, but creating the visual means thinking about shapes, composition, light and depth, structure, and, of course: texture.

I am glad that I gave up on all that probably very German desire for conceptual purity, because from time to me I discover a scent that just screams AMAZING TEXTURE, and how frustrating would it be not to use that as a base for the design. Let's have a look at Odin New York's 2015 creation Lacha:

Odin 12 Lacha

Wood notes always add some solidity to a scent, a wonderful illusion of substance, either polished or raw. In this fragrance though, the wood is anything but solid. This wood is actually liquid. When I first smelled it I had two immediate associations: wood grain and the soft ripples of silk draped languidly over it. No surprise then that I tried to merge them into my visualisation. Lacha also carries a lot of spices, namely saffron, nutmeg and pepper and on different wearings their prominence varied quite a lot, but the mix always seemed very well balanced. According to the note list it has a strong suede leather base, but for me silk and wood describe it much better. A well rounded, softly spicy perfume that nonetheless packs a bit of a punch and comforts with a twist and a wonderful example of interesting texture in a scent. 

How and where to wear:

Fallen in love with a clarinet player? Here's the scent for you.

Love Exposure

It's difficult to judge a perfume that's based on a movie you haven't seen. It's also difficult to ignore that backstory if the movie is labelled "notorious". A four hour tour de farce of religion, lust, teenage angst and pop culture isn't exactly Cinderella and while my knowledge just stems from a few youtube trailers, it's probably fair to say that a perfume based on that comes with a few expectations. Mark Buxton isn't the Disney type of perfumers either, so that only adds to it.

So when I did start smelling Love Exposure, I was slightly surprised. What a delicate Magnolia! Light, a bit bitter-creamy, and very, very wet. 

My visual interpretation of Love Exposure by Mark Buxton

I am pretty sure that without knowing anything about the film, my perception and the visual for the scent would be somewhat different - brighter, lighter and more innocent- but it's impossible to revert myself back to not-knowing. Yes, there is certainly an edge to the fragrance, it has an urban feel and there is this spicy incense and amber base, but how much of that impression really comes from the scent...? Having said that, I really, really like it. To the extend that I would consider a bottle. (All the fragrances in Mark Buxton's new cinema inspired La Folie a Plusiers range come in 12ml quantities) I am also very intrigued to watch the movie now, and will go and hunt for it on amazon. I had great pleasure creating the image, and wanted to capture the delicacy, wetness and urban style of the perfume in colours that evoke the wet petals of magnolia trees in dirty rain.

How and where to wear:

Rainy Sunday afternoon, watching the teardrops on the window

A comparison of colours - Shalimar, Musc Ravageur and Meharees

I have recently discovered that I do have a desert island perfume, one that I could probably wear forever if I had to make that choice. And despite the fact that this revelation is a relatively recent one I don't think it's going to be short-lived. A bit like finding the person you want to spend the rest of your life with. OK, not that life changing, I admit, but exciting and quite a surprise. The perfume in question is Musc Ravageur, by Edition Fredric Malle, and I hope that I never fall out of love with it. Bought on the spot after sniffing it for the first time, it gives me everything I want in perfume. It makes me feel all comforted and warm, illuminates me, gives me a posture and makes me smile. It's luxury, filth and self confidence in a bottle.

It been said, that when Maurice Roucel created it he wanted to pay homage to Guerlain's grand old dame Shalimar, and I can absolutely see that. Musc plays on the same themes without ever trying to copy. Needless to say that I love Shalimar as well and the idea to compare those two visually was very tempting. But there is another fragrance out there that will make an excellent comparison companion - L'Erbolario's Meharees. At a fraction of the price of Musc Ravageur, this offering from the Italian natural beauty company is considered as an extraordinary dupe. But is it really? I will try to compare these three by using my visual imagination. Let's start with the predominant colours. For me these are warm, golden yellow, rose, orange and earthy ochre. 

Another aspect that all three fragrances share is their softness. Don't get me wrong, they are powerful perfumes and make the statements they want to make, but they do so without too many sharp angles and coarse textures. To make it easier to compare them I chose a similar way of 'painting' for all three, with lots of layering and over lapping gradients.

They seem pretty similar so close together, don't they? But even in the scaled down versions you can see that the openings and dry downs are decidedly different. Shalimar is the only one which bursts in citruses, and it also has a stronger floral heart. Musc Ravageur is edgier, dirtier than the other two, here represented by the ochre at the top and bottom of the image. and Meharees is the most linear of the three. Let's look at them in detail:

My visualisation of Shalimar

The initial citrus already sets the tone. Fresh, but never clean, Shalimar from then on makes one of those long journeys we often associate with old school  perfumes. It goes and flows from yellow to orange to amber to pink to purple to brown. A powdery floral heart is kept from being overly pretty by strong bodied animalic side kicks and in the last stages it develops the wonderful Guerlinade mix of vanilla, resins and incense. Shalimar is a beautiful lady and I couldn't care less about her age. 

My visualisation of Musc Ravageur

Musc Ravager doesn't really bother with much of a top note. It is, basically from the start, a dirty little number. The animalic aspect is stronger than in Shalimar, and there is a slight edge to it. Instead of florals it has a handful of spice, but how they toned down by musk is similar to the effect Guerlain used on Shalimar's floral notes. It is dirtier and obviously a modern creation. Urban, if you like. To illustrate that I have used a few sharp lines and 'furry' brush strokes. I've already mentioned that I love it and I find it has just the right level of silage. Won't get unnoticed, but doesn't harm the sensitive types. 

My visualisation of Meharees

Now Meharees did really surprise me. It is, to a certain degree, a perfect dupe of Musc Ravageur. The opening is softer and much sweeter, but after half an hour it stays were it is and it stays there long. I find Meharees a bit  grating in the end. It simply doesn't do much. What is does is nice enough, don't get me wrong, but it doesn't excite me. Some reviewers find it more palatable than MR, and that is certainly the case, but it is a bit flat. If you're looking for a sweet and spicy amber that doesn't break the bank it's an excellent choice. It has far less in common with Shalimar and it wouldn't have occurred to me to put the two together in one post, but Musc Ravageur adds as the missing link here. All three are lovely orientals, I just happen to love the dirtiest of the trio. 

I hope you did enjoy this little comparison post, it was an interesting experiment for me, not least because I created the images with a new application. Anyone who needs or likes to use Photoshop and Illustrator but is frustrated by Adobe's subscription only policy, have a look at Affinity Design and Affinity Photo (currently in beta). I am well impressed by them. 

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.

 

Felanilla, languid and luxurious

Adding a new perfume bottle to your collection is always exciting, but sometimes there is a level of anxiety involved. Will I still like it? What if it smells suddenly different from the sample (has happended!) Was it really worth the money? 

My Full Bottle wish list is usually quite short and also short lived; scents appear on it for a few weeks or months and then get chucked out and replaced by something else. Apart from the odd "bargain" buy, I can wait pretty long before I make a commitment. Last week, the list had Hasu no Hana (longest ever contender, on there for a year, which is no surprise, given the price tag), Atkinson's Odd Fellow and/or Fashion Decree and Parfumerie Generale's Felanilla on it. Thanks to London's Bloom perfumery and their lovely little Halloween game, Felanilla is off the list and on my shelf now. A 28% discount is not to be sniffed at. But as I said at the beginning, receiving a new bottle can be a bit stressful. It has been a few months since I last smelled it. Will I still love it?

My visual interpretation of Felanilla

Thankfully, I do, although it does smell ever so slightly different from how I remembered it. The animalic aspect is not as pronounced as I had previously thought. Not that it ever was a civet feast, but it had an element of strokeable furryness that I can't find for now. It's still there, I'm sure, I just have to wait. What is unmissable in this creation is a wonderfully softened wood base over which a purple iris and a powdery vanilla hover in a gentle embrace. All the warmth comes from the spicy saffron and the wood (banana, according to the note list). Both the iris and the vanilla feel cool and, at least for the first few hours, "refreshing" on top of it. The iris is the first to exit the party, leaving all the fun to a gloriously dry vanilla that makes me want to bite, not lick my wrists. Because despite me not really spotting the animal, it is most definitely hiding there somewhere. Felanilla is a proper grown up vanilla, not one for the kids. Its uncomplicated and simple structure gives it a natural, barefoot luxury feel that I often associate with easy going tropical holidays. Languid, subtle but deeply erotic.

How and where to wear:

A  daybed on a veranda overlooking the jungle. A knackered old fan is doing its best to cool down the hot and humid air. 

Cuir Cannage

I am just back from a holiday in France where the temperamental weather meant that we spent most of our time with eating, drinking and visiting neolithic monuments. Nothing wrong with any of these, of course, but it wasn't quite the summer holiday we had hoped for. Autumn was in the air and that air was strong, as we realised when we attempted to put up a newly bought (and never before tested) sun tent thingy in situ, giving the entire beach a perfect show and testing the strength of our 10 years marriage. But I disgress. 

The lack of hot and sunny weather allowed for more perfume testing than I had originally planned. I am not a fan of wearing perfume on the beach and did therefore bring only a few decants and samples, some of which I then didn't like all that much. This basically left me with a decant of the latest of Dior's  Exclusive Line: Cuir Cannage and I wore it on most days and evenings, until Mael clearly had enough and stated that he was bored by it!

And that came a s a surprise, because Cuir Cannage is not only a very, very pretty perfume, it turned out to be a bit of a shape shifter on me as well. The opening  smelled slightly different on most days, and I can't blame hormones or my nose, Mael recognised that too. Most of the time Cuir Cannage opens with a blast of soft leather, followed by the floral aspect of mostly iris and white flowers. But on other days the floral took over the leather and gave it a run for its money. And on certain mornings I perceived a strange medicinal campherous note. But after these different beginnings, the development of the scent stayed constant. Cuir Cannage is one of those leathers which are so beautiful that you want to stroke them. Figuratively speaking, obviously. But it represents the finest, the shiniest and surprisingly hard wearing leather reserved for the most exquisite gloves. Women's gloves. The floral notes are mostly of the powdery sort, rosy, elegant and quite subtle. The wood comes in form of birch and gives the perfume a strong backbone and acts as the frame to the interwoven accords. Cuir Cannage is a very apt name for this fragrance. The weaving pattern of rattan chairs, named Cannage in French, has become a household design of Dior, used on iconic handbags, jewelry and cosmetic lines. I like to think that it was the pattern itself that inspired the perfumer here. Hard materials made pliable and soft, but hold in a simple structure that gives it strength and beauty. Both ethereal and durable.

My visual for Cuir Cannage by Dior

I used the rattan weave as a starting point for my visual, in combination with a layered purple that can be both feminine and masculine, just like the perfume. Before this holiday I had Cuir Cannage on my ever changing  wish list and I can't really say what has changed, but now I don't feel so sure anymore. It is a lovely perfume, no doubt, but like Mael, I got a bit bored by it. Too pretty for its own good, or too predictable? I don't know. I will give it some time before I empty the last bit of the decant and see what happens then. 

How and where to wear:

I'm not overly seasonal with my perfume wearing, but this is autumn material. Wear it when the coat has to come out for the first time and the gloves go in the handbag, just in case...

The Architects Club

Different cultures have different rules as to what is considered an unsuitable topic for polite conversation around the dinner table. In Germany it's certainly politics, religion and money, in the UK it might be business and sex, I'm really not sure. But I would suggest to add architecture to the list. All art forms can be fascinating and/or devastating discussion topics, but it's architecture that brings out the strongest and often unexpected opinions. Most of my friends are fairly open minded when it comes to modern art or theatre, but throw the Shard or the Walkie Talkie (two new additions to the London skyline) at them and nothing is certain any more. Avid steel and glass defenders sulk stubbornly next to Traditionalists and Brutalism victims will shout down Bauhaus aficionados. People in the UK who yearn for the Good Old Times when buildings were pretty and tasteful, have not only the Prince of Wales, but most of the press on their side. I wonder how it really was in those Good Old Times...? Did Georgian house fronts with their lack of ornamental chichi win public opinion by storm or were they considered plain ugly? And what about Art Deco, the ever popular backdrop to thousands of Hercule Poirot film sets...love at first sight?

Carlos Huber, the creator of Arquiste perfumes and an architect himself, used the Art Deco interior of a hotel bar as starting point for his inspiration and brief to his perfumer. As always with his perfumes he tries to capture a very specific moment:

Fumoir at Claridges

"A group of architects gather for cocktails at Mayfair's smartest Art Deco smoking room. As they settle in the warm interior of dark woods, leather and velvet, London's bright young things burst in, frosted martinis in hand, surrounded by a cloud of laughter, white smoke and fine vanilla." 

The first time I smelled The Architects Club, I was in the company of Carlos at Bloom perfumery in London. Things bursting in with frosted Martinis is a pretty accurate description of what hit me: One of the best Gin notes that I've encountered in a perfume. Frozen glass and a bittersweet metallic freshness. Delicious and promising. On my skin the transformation from cold to cosy happens very fast though, almost immediately after the gin comes the smoke, polished wood and the leather. These elements throw a lively party for quite some time, and on different wearing days different notes became more or less dominant while the juniper notes wafted in and out for balance.  I liked it when the tobacco was stronger than the woods, because the latter isn't a favourite of mine and I don't wear those notes well. But overall I am impressed with the development of the scent. It doesn't just represent a bunch of  intense looking men discussing the finer points of modern architecture; enough frivolity and sensuality is thrown in to keep that party interesting. It doesn't really get raunchy or misbehaved...it's a rather British affair, I find. Dinner jackets will end up with lipstick on the collar, but it doesn't go any further... 

Every party has to end at some time, and this one does with a sexy, sweaty vanilla note after a few hours. It then also becomes a skin scent, rather fittingly. I enjoyed the ride and the party, The Architects Club is an unusual one, and were it not for that woody middle section I would love it that much more. As it is, I find it more on the masculine side.  Like with all Arquiste fragrances you can let your imagination follow the initial idea but if you're not bothered, the perfume speaks for itself and stays  modern  throughout. 

My visual interpretation of The Architects Club by Arquiste

An opportunity to use an Art Deco theme for the visual was too tempting to let pass, so this one is more on the graphic side and the colour palette follows the muted tones of interiors of the period. 

How and where to wear:

Spray it on your nicest silk scarf and book yourself a table at the Air Street branch of Hawksmoore restaurants in London. Best steaks in town in beautiful Art Deco surroundings. Good martinis and if you must, lobster. 

And just because I can: Here a photo of a vanity table in colonial Art Deco style that would make the most perfect backdrop for a perfume collection and that I dream of ever since I saw it displayed in the luggage arrival hall of Chiang Mai airport. (Yes, weird place, I know)

Cafe Chantant, black forest gateau in a bottle

Italian perfume house nobile 1942 is on it's way to becoming a new favourite of mine. I have already written about the Chypre and since then I have sampled a few more scents and they all had something about them. There is the elegant Pontevecchio, the alluring Casta Diva, the totally bonkers but beautiful Danza delle Libellule (have a look at the fab review from the Black Narcissus blog) and my latest find: The delicious Cafe Chantant. 

My visual interpretation of Cafe Chantant by nobile 1942

It opens with a boozy cherry note that reminds me of good, home made, black forest gateau. Chocolate sponge drenched in Kirsch, sour cherries and a ton of cream. Yum! I'd have that any day of the week if you'd let me, but even double hour Pilates and kettlebells sessions wouldn't prevent those cakes from going straight to the hips. So, thank you nobile for creating a perfume that I can have instead. The initial booze note disappears, as you'd expect, quite quickly and the cherries dry down to a wonderful creamy vanilla patchouli. Surprisingly, it's a skin scent on me, which adds to the overall guilty pleasures feel. It's a scent I love to have around me for emergency sniffs that instantly help me feel better about the world and it also makes for an excellent night fragrance. This is not for everyone, but it makes me insanely happy. 

How and where to wear:

For one of those days...

What's in a name? Chypre by Nobile 1942

There are probably 12345 perfumes out there which I could potentially fall in love with, but time, availability, Royal Mail postal restriction nonsense and money are issues that regulate the amount of scents I can possibly try. Never mind review. But it's difficult to resist ordering this set and those samples,  and in the end it's inevitable that I sometimes  lose track of what's hiding in my little Poundshop drawers. My organising system is simple enough though: 

 A  to  Z

Some letters seem to attract far more little vials than others, F and G for example, are not very popular, but exploring the Hows and Whys of that is something that I leave for another post. A to Z is easy but not very helpful if you just want to try something floral/woody or hesperidy/green and have forgotten the main notes for the better half of your sample collection. So it's really handy when a perfume house is helpful and names things in a simple, matter of factly way. Like  C is for Chypre. In the second drawer from the top, labelled B and C with these slightly tacky, red glitter letter stickers from yet another Poundshop. I was in the mood for a chypre and it couldn't have been easier. Chypre by Nobile 1942 it was...

My visual interpretation of Chypre by nobile 1942

As far as I know the Italian perfume house Nobile 1942 isn't in the business of giving deliberately misleading names to their creations in the way that LeLabo do, but is this really a chypre?

Yes, it has a fresh bergamot and mandarin/orange opening, but on my skin there is very early on a pinkish bright bubblegum note that makes me smile and reminds me of the effect that Tuberose No.1 had on me. Just the right amount of that difficult note, not too overpowering, just coming to say Hello a few times during the earlier dry down. Love it! I know my skin has the tendency to wolf down the citrussy notes and whatever sweetness a perfume might possess often becomes weirdly exaggerated, but this perfume is still a bit of a surprise. A very nice one though. It's classy, just a tiny bit old school, but incredibly wearable. After about 2 hours it does get a bit closer to a traditional  chypre with the neat hovering between a fresh green and a bed of flowers, mostly roses with a patchouly hint. I would call this phase floral chypre.  It transcends into a comforting vanilla wood after a long day of wearing and I still got a whiff from time to time when I was laying in bed. Projection is not all that great, considering. M. declared it a skin scent verging on the masculine, but I strongly disagree. Yes, it does stay close to skin, but there is no doubt about it's gender. For me Chypre is a very feminine perfume. It covers the sensual and the imaginary in equal terms, but it always stays on the double x- chromosone side of things. For my visual interpretation I wanted to capture it's radiating warmth and "earthyness", no hard lines but not too ethereal. The right balance of colours  was the easy bit but to find the overall texture of the visual turned out to be really difficult. I struggled all day with it, trying out lots of things and I was close to leave it, at least for a while, when I found a solution that is close enough to my idea of the scent to publish it, but may be I will change it again in future.

And in the end I don't care what the name of this beautiful scent suggests, but I do want to know a bit more about it's story. It's dedicated to iconic Italian actress Anna Magnani. Award winning figure head of Italian Neo-Realism, unusual beauty, strong minded she was a woman of considerable strength and charisma, never mind talent. I can't possibly  know if the perfume would have suited her, but the image I have of her totally suits the perfume. She is a wonderful example of a passionate and confident woman who doesn't give a damn, whose laughter is smokey and a bit dirty and who does what she wants without any false pretence. Inspirations for perfumes don't come much better than that and while I thought for a while that calling it after her would have been a good idea, I'm not so sure anymore now, because after all: What's in a name anyway?

Have a look at this video showing Anna Magnani in Pier Paolo Pasolini's film 

Mamma Roma from 1962. 

http://youtu.be/dddeaNtxQuw

How and where to wear it:

Inspired by the video, no doubt, I'd say: Late summer evening with friends and family, lots of wine, lots of laughter, lots of home made hearty food, at ease with yourself and the world

Fuoco Infernale, a Potion master's fragrance

Back from Paris, I can feel it coming: The nasty post trip cold. Normally it's the combination of the dry air in a plane occupied by 200 people of which at least 2 are bound to have a nasty virus lurking around. This time I took the train, but why would the Eurostar be any better...So while I'm trying to fight off the worst with paracetamol and some throat spray I am also looking for a perfume to warm me up. I have accumulated quite a stack of untested samples by now but this utterly beautiful set certainly deserves my attention:

I know, I know, I know. But isn't it beautiful? I am a sucker for nice packaging, I'm afraid. It comes with being a graphic designer. Linari is a German based perfume house, trying to combine the usual niche concept with some very stylish design. This sample pack can be ordered from their website. So, I am looking for a warm me up scent, and something named Fuoco Infernale, created by Egon Oelkers,  should be just what the doctor ordered. Will it warm my senses, kill the germs and protect me from further evil?

My visual interpretation of Fuoco Infernale by Linari

It certainly has a medicinal, healthy glow to it. Herbal, but not in a fresh green way , more like bundles of herbs that have been hanged to dry out over a giant stove, giving off some gentle, fragrant smoke. The very beginning was a bit too aftershavy for me, but that settles down quickly and the herbs get company from orange and sepia tones in the form of spices woods, a bit iris and then they all huddle together in a worn out pouch made out of the softest leather. In an urban and cool sophisticated sort of way this would have made a great Halloween perfume; to be worn by a woman in a non-tacky witch costume, or even better, by sexy Potion Master Professor Snape alias Alan Rickman. May be I already have a fever... never mind me. (In case you are wondering, my nose is not yet affected by any fluey symptoms, so far it's only the throat). 

Fuoco Infernale is not really a feminine scent, but that wouldn't deter me. Despite my Harry Potter reference, this is actually a very modern take on a classical, masculine herbal leather fragrance and I think it's perfect for November. Real winter hasn't settled in yet, but leaves get burned and fireworks are getting off. It's a scent that carries the transition well, I find, but while it certainly has a good portion of warmth, glow and smoke, I wouldn't call its fire infernal. Has it worked its magic to cure me? Time will tell.

How and where to wear:

The modern wizard can't go wrong with this on the collar of his cloak

Parfumerie Générale, Cuir d'Iris

I am on a quest for an Iris based scent. I can't properly explain why, it just felt like the right thing for autumn, although I'm usually not overly fussed by seasonality. In my head I have this idea of a cold and elegant yet powdery scent that encapsulates  the sensual and even more so: sexual beauty of the flowers. I also wanted a perfume that isn't cosy, but makes you feel like you could kiss ass in a boardroom full of self importance and testosterone (not that I have much opportunity to do that, but that's not the point). I'm not sure if I can find what I'm looking for; it might not even exist. And may be when I do find it it will not contain even a hint of iris. But I know that there is good fun to be had in the process and I will have found some interesting fragrances along the way. 

One of the perfumes I've discovered is Cuir d'Iris from niche perfume house Parfumerie Générale. So, Iris covered in leather, how do you smell?

My visual interpretation of Cuir d'Iris, Parfumerie Générale

Rather beautiful. It starts with a  bit of a fanfare, like an overture, setting the musical theme for the rest of the symphony: Iris! Leather! Chocolate! Then comes a very leathery first movement, so leathery in fact that I asked M. if I smell a bit of cow, which he dismissed as a silly idea. And while the leather softens, the iris hovers over it and gets more attention. And with the animal in the background the perfume gets sweeter and melts on my skin like  the most delicious praline. And this, in combination with my earlier cow suggestion brings this association.....

Please don't think I'm making fun of the hard labour of a perfumer. Nothing can be further from the truth,  but once you have an image in your head it's difficult to get rid off.  Fortunately I really love cows.  And chocolate. And this perfume. It's not the type of Iris I was looking for, but it's unusual, it smells delicious, lasts forever and doesn't cost an obscene amount of money. It's a full bottle candidate. Parfumerie Générale have another iris based scent, Iris Oriental  which is also gorgeous, but even further from my very personal Iris fantasy. So I will keep on sniffing and also looking out for the candyperfumeboy's  Iris note special which he has promised to write soon. 

How and where to wear:

If you happen to be on a diet and feel a bit low, this scent will make you feel a lot better, sexy and seductively sweet. 

I'm hoping that the people at Nestle won't sue the live out of me for using the Lila Kuh image, which belongs to them entirely. 

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

L'Air du Désert Marocain, a contemplation

L'Air du Désert Marocain. Even if you've never been to the Moroccan desert, it's difficult not to have an image of sand and rocks, camels and endless blue sky when you hear the name. I'm not sure I'd like the desert, the emptiness would probably freak me out, and where are the trees?! But even if we don't want to go to places in person we can still dream about them. Perfumes are wonderful flying carpets in that regard. They can take you everywhere, even back in time. And Tauer Perfume's Moroccan air is a potent and wonderful example. Released in 2005, it already is regarded as a  modern classic and I hope my interpretation can do it justice.

My visual interpretation of L'Air du Désert  Marocain

It opens with a bang. There is no slow transition, allowing you to adept to it. No, this is here and it wants to be noticed. It's smooth and dry, devoid of vegetation but full of life. When I was at school they showed as an educational movie called:" Die Wueste lebt." (the desert is alive) May be Andy Tauer, the creator of the perfume had to sit through it as well, but I assume he went to see the real thing, and not just once. This fragrance is beautifully  balanced between the harsh and the soft, it's lifting me up to an endless open sky and covers me in a blanket at the same time. Stunning. May be the desert isn't such a bad place after all.  

I cannot stop sniffing my wrists. The postcard for it has quite a bit of blue in it, and I like to think that was not just inspired by Tauer Perfumes very bright blue bottle design (of which I'm not overly keen I have to say), but sometimes these influences happen. I absolutely love this perfume (you can tell?) and will oversee the bottle issue. Or order a sample set from their website

Cheaper than a trip to the desert for sure, especially because a little will go a long way. One spritz is perfectly enough for hours. Totally  suitable for men and women.

How and where to wear:

That will very much depend on how the balance of the fragrance works for you. I would happily wear it for meditation and a drop on the pillow at night is wonderful too.

Desert image via flickr from olivernaumann, some rights reserved