A strange Virgin and her signature perfume

I cannot remember where and when I first met her, this strange Virgin with child surrounded by angels, but I do come across her in different scenarios, often entirely unexpected. The last time I saw her, as part of an installation on screen and not in person as she had been on loan to Madrid, was at the Dries van Noten Inspirations exhibition in Paris (which I hereby also highly recommend). She has always been a muse to artists and designers  and the late Alexander McQueen used her as an inspiration for his last, unfinished, collection.  It's not surprising, just look at her:

Jean Fouquet, Virgin and child surrounded by angels, around 1452, image via wikipedia

Painted by the French artist Jean Fouquet in the 1450's, it is a piece of art that most people describe as surprisingly modern and of disturbing beauty. Her alien paleness, emphasized by the high hairline, is part of the beauty ideal of the time and even the unnatural breasts, poking out under her armpits like perfectly shaped marble balls, can be seen in many virgin and child paintings. It's the colour and texture composition that I find so striking, and if you will, modern about this Madonna. Her white figure is set against a group of angels in red and blue, arranged in a strange Tessellation style pattern reminding of H.W.Escher. Mastering the art of perspective was still a bit hit and miss in the early Renaissance, but this doesn't look like it was done due to lack of skill, it's a very deliberate effect. Despite them forming a background pattern, the chubby little angels are very three dimensional, especially the red ones.  And, ever so slightly disturbing: they are covered in a glossy texture that is not dissimilar to latex. In contrast to the naughty cherubim the virgin has almost no real texture, Fouquet didn't render her skin very differently from the folds of her cape, making her appear like an alabaster statue in her own painting, highlighting her otherworldly-ness. A lot of the paintings startling allure is probably due to the mixture of realistic (baby Jesus and the virgin's face) and iconic (her figure and costume) elements and it's certainly a great example of a dualism in style in early Northern Renaissance art. Also not untypical for the time, she is depicted as a Queen more than a  mother and art historians are now pretty certain that Fouquet used Agnes Sorel, favourite mistress of King Charles VII of France as his inspiration and model. Being regarded as the most beautiful woman of her time, he certainly did her honour. 

And because I love the painting and the myth that surrounds her I now try to find a perfume that best captures this 15th century virginal pop art queen. My first idea is Alexander McQueen's violet number MyQueen,  for the connection mentioned above. It has the edge I'm looking for and a sharp hairspray weirdness at some point during the wear, but it's altogether a bit too one dimensional. I went back to the Relique d'Amour from Oriza and a few other incense-strong perfumes  to see if that would work for her, but they either lacked the modern/alien aspect I was looking for or were too   masculine. Serge Lutens' La Vierge en Fer, an interesting Lily, is, while certainly more modern, too sweet and innocent. It's interesting how, when searching for a specific scent, the name, the packaging, the whole brand identity suddenly becomes such an integral part of it. This virgin's perfume has to be daring, a bit alien, cold but sensual and definitely modern, futuristic even.  A little bit sweetness is fine and incense and lilies would be perfect. And the brand has to be daring too. Bold. And preferably French. Don't ask me why, it just has. 

Perfume brands don't get much bolder than Etat libre d'Orange, and even their logo goes terribly well with my chosen artwork. But I'm not all that familiar with their scents apart from a few exceptions, and was also in need of some more ideas. It was my perfume friend Nick who helped me out here. I gave him a few hints about the nature of the fragrance I was looking for and he made two suggestions: Comme des Garcons 2011 EdP, to which I will come back later,  and for the land of Orange he named Charogne. 

Charogne had featured in a "skanky scents" Perfume Lovers London event held by the very same Nick not too long ago, and I remember liking it a lot. On the right side of wearable, with some weird sensual undertones, a bit rubbery. When I test it now in connection with the artwork seeks perfume quest it behaves even better than expected. A strong lily, jasmine accord is combined with a leather/rubber note, incense and a lot of creamy and not overly sweet vanilla. I can for the life of me not see why anyone would find this offensive. It's daring, I admit, but a lot of the provocation comes from the name. And even that doesn't hold when you look into the inspiration for it:

 Beaudelaire's poem Une Charogne 

The perfume evokes the beauty of decay. And when you see flowers in their very last stages before they wilt and wither away completely, you understand the intent. However, as much as I love the perfume - particularly how  the lily is partnered with the rubber  - it's not quite right for the virgin. It embraces and celebrates the cycle of life and death, and in doing so it's all too human and grounded to our bodily ways. 

So I go back to Nick's first choice, the Comme des Garcons 2011. The one in the wonky, melted pear shaped bottle that won't stand up. And at first sniff I know that this is it. This is the scent that the painting should give off, the virgin's signature perfume.
Ingredient lists can be very boring reads, but this one certainly isn't: Industrial glue and brown scotch tape, aldehydes, saffron, styrax, lilac and rubber? I assume there is also a long list of fluffy and nice smelling things which didn't make it into the press material because they are just...well, boring, but there has to be a reason why this actually smells so great. I get a lot of aldehydes and yes, they are paired with an industrial note I can't really identify, but then comes a spicy freshness and the soft lilac. It has all the elements that I wanted for the Virgin, it's sharp, cold, sweet, alien, futuristic, plasticky, intriguing and intoxicating. And, most importantly, it defines beauty  in an unfashionable and unconventional way. 

Where to see:

You can visit The Virgin surrounded by angels at the Koninklijk Museum voor Schone Kunsten in Antwerp

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.