Maai by bogue, pregnant with meaning

I hadn't planned to write about Maai. Highly praised, this recreation of a classical chypre by Italian artisan house bogue appeared in many of the Best of 2014 reviews I had read. From the descriptions and the notes it looked like a winner, and I was fairly disappointed that it didn't work for me. But as I rarely write negative reviews, I simply made a few remarks to perfume friends and moved on to sampling something else. And then a few days ago, while dusting the bookshelf in the bedroom my eyes fell on the Anselm Kiefer catalogue of last year's grandious exhibition at the Royal Academy.

And I then remembered that I had initially intended to use one of his paintings as a starting point for a review about Chypre Palatin by MDCI perfumes. These days I have the memory of a small sized rodent/goldfish/fly so that post never happened, but then a train of associations started and it lead me back to Maai.

But first, let me be a bit tedious and express my thought about Anselm Kiefer: Considered as one of the most important living artists, his ouevre is steeped deeply in German culture/history. His use of Nazi iconography and his, let's say, tendency for the bombast makes him a difficult choice. There are references to the war, mythicism, blood and soil, Wagner, death and decay, and a dark forest or a bleak field are never far away. Many of his paintings have taglines and scribbled notes on them, leaving you under no doubt that here is an artist who has something to say! Bedeutungsschwanger - we call that in German  - pregnant with meaning.

I realise that it seems that I'm not exactly selling him here, but I do actually adore his work. His canvasses are gigantic in size, and often oddly decorative in a graphic/reduced palette sort of way. I feel a resonance and strong sense of connection when I see them in real life. I also feel incredibly German, and I'm unsure what to make of that. The exhibition at London's Royal Academy was eerily beautiful and evocative. But would I want to live with one of his works? Never mind the questions of affordability, practicality and insurance - the answer is: No. His art radiates a heaviness and intensity that I would find troubling and irritating around my personal space.

I would very much prefer to be surrounded by the works of other, less angst ridden Germans, Gerhard Richter and especially Sigmar Polke spring to mind. The latter was given a massive retrospective at Tate Modern at the same time than the Kiefer was on. Polke made fun of the world and himself ( yes, Germans do have a sense of humour...) via his art and although he didn't shy away from difficult subjects, he handled them in a way I find much more palatable.

So all this to tell you why I didn't like a perfume? Well, sort of. When I tried Maai again I   knew it would make an even better match for Kiefer's forests and fields. Composed like a back to front version of Chypre Palatin, this one offers no comfort. The forest it evokes is not a place I'd like to be any time soon. It might lure me in with all this cold freshness but I'm  aware that there is something hidden. A troll, using this particular aftershave to cover his scent before he has me for breakfast. The oakmoss/musc phase lasts forever on my skin and when the perfume eventually develops into something a bit more floral and soft I am almost exhausted. This is intense, retro and BIG perfumery. And like Kiefer's paintings, I very much admire the way it's done. My skin feels just too small to wear it.

For more perfume focused reviews of Maai I point you towards:

http://www.cafleurebon.com/new-perfume-review-bogue-profumo-maai-by-antonio-gardoni-sexy-beast-chypre-fragrance-draw/

http://bonkersaboutperfume.blogspot.co.uk/2015/02/turning-japanese-and-fithy-anomaly.html

http://yeoldecivetcat.blogspot.co.uk/2014/10/bogue-profumo.html

And if you want to read up on Anslem Kiefer I recommend this article from the Guardian:

http://www.theguardian.com/artanddesign/2014/sep/12/anselm-kiefer-royal-academy-retrospective-german-painter-sculptor



Images in order of appearance: 
Aschenblume, 2004 
Böhmen liegt am Meer, 1995
Parsifal III, 1973
Winterland, 2010

Gothic Bluebell, come celebrate Spring!

We didn't have much of a winter here in the UK, it basically rained, and then it rained a bit more, followed by some rain...But that doesn't mean that we're not super excited about the first signs of spring.

You can already see some weirdos in flip flops and shorts, the magnolias show the first blooms and the shops are in full Easter decoration frenzy with their happy go lucky depiction of spring in sugary pastels, bright yellows and fresh greens, sometimes verging on the psychedelic. Yes, those are the colours that come out in spring, but the season is so much more powerful and dramatic then fluffy bunnies and eiderdown chicks in teletubby land. It's about the reviving, mating, growing and reproduction, isn't it? 

Although I'm not all that seasonal in my perfume wearing, the beginning of spring and autumn are both times when I am excited about change and this will manifest itself in my wardrobe and perfume choices. Right now I want something more green and floral, but I'm not yet ready for the full flower bouquet. And while I'm always happy to try out new fragrances, my main choices for this spring have been made. It's going to be Aedes de Venusta's signature scent of which I have a 10ml that will last me for a while and then I  simply have to buy a bottle of Gothic Bluebell by Union fragrances.

Why? Well, the Aedes has this delightful fresh sparkle of rhubarb that feels just right for the moment and the Bluebell is a veritable feast of hyacinth, violets and damp moss.

My colour interpretation of Gothic Bluebell by Union

When you go walking in a British forest during the bluebell season you might stumble upon one of those incredible carpets of purple and blue, kissed by sunlight and flanked by the darkness of still bare trees. It's a truly memorable sight and so surreal in its unexpected beauty that you can imagine elves and fairies passing by at any moment. These little wild flowers produce an abundance of colour and scent and half of the world's bluebells can be found in the UK, so they're pretty much a national treasure. (Sadly under threat from the scentless but more robust Spanish bluebell plants). 

Union fragrances is obviously a very patriotic British perfume house, celebrating the aromas of the British Isles in all their glory. Just look at their bottles:

The idea behind Union is to use as many homegrown ingredients as possible and recreate different aspects of the unique British flora. Their fragrances carry names like Holy Thistle, Celtic Fire and... Gothic Bluebell. A rather fitting name I find. I fell hard for its mysterious and sweet beauty, but I guess it's actually not that easy a perfume to love or like. Hyacinths and violets, used here to enhance the bluebell effect, are both notes that can be an required taste, suffering from being labelled old fashioned and granny-ish. This fragrance is certainly not very urban or contemporary, but I would call it ancient and Pagan rather than old. The innocent powdery notes associated with pastel colours are combined with a woody and animalistic accord that gives this sweet scent its darker woody aspect. Instead of taking the delicate floral notes on a road trip to modernity it decides not to bother with being cool and follows hidden and ancient paths where the trees are casting long and twisted shadows and the light is eerieand ethereal. I used this image as the inspiration for my colour interpretation which had to feature lots of purple, some white, a hint of green and a dark shadowy hue in the background. When I first wore Gothic Bluebell it immediately reminded me of Pre Raphaelite paintings - another very British affair - where danger always seems just a second away from all the twee-ness, the whimsy and the Kitsch. Beautiful women in medieval costumes brush their long hair whilst humming a simple melody and suddenly some brute jumps out at them and slits their throats....or something along these lines.

Ophelia by John William Waterhouse, 1889

Gothic Bluebell has a powerful sillage and stays with me all day, although it doesn't change much, keeps its main notes until the end and fades out very gently. It's incredibly intoxicating and sexy in a refreshingly unsophisticated "Come and Shag me" sort of way. Sometimes beauty doesn't need much finesse but presence, and Gothic Bluebells certainly has that in abundance. 

How and where to wear:

As Beltane has gone out of fashion a dozen centuries ago I suggest its modern day equivalent, the Internet dating. Wear it while composing your profile and feel irresistible.


Images via Union Fragrances website 
and wikipedia

Andrea Maack, Craft

So here I am with my first blog related dilemma. While the discussion is still out whether perfume is an art form on it's own, artists have becoming increasingly interested in using scent as part of their work and vice versa, perfume houses are collaborating with artists from all disciplines to create inspired fragrances. Andrea Maack is an Icelandic artist who started to use perfume in her installations which then became a product in their own right and she launched a niche perfume house "by accident". I like her idea of taking a piece of the artwork from the wall and use it as blotting paper for the fragrance. 

The problem I have is that I would be doing a colour interpretation of a perfume that was created as an olfactory interpretation of an illustration. Having seen the pieces she apparently created for "Craft", I am faced with the fact that my view on this perfume couldn't be more different. I'm not an artist and this is not an art project, but I do feel a bit uneasy about it. In the end I have decided not to show some of her drawings here, but leave the link to the promotion video for reference. Please have a look at her work online. I like her intricate patterns and think they will work well on fabrics which is apparently her next line of work.

But,  as soon as you take them out of their artistic context, these art perfumes are indistinguishable from any other on the market. You can buy them, they get promoted and shown at trade shows, they get reviewed. Andrea Maack wants us to believe that they have "stripped perfume off it's nostalgic feel" and the aim was to have a "futuristic, clean approach"; a simple scent that "does convey a strong message". I know this is just PR, but somehow it grates on me. Many potential customers will try the perfume without having seen any of the art or even heard of the artist and it's the quality of the fragrance that counts then, not a artistic concept which has long become obsolete. If the scent was fantastic I would forgive all that brouhaha, but unfortunately I really don't like it. 

My visual interpretation of Andrea Maack, Craft

It has an interesting start, suggesting a deep dark forest of doom. Grimm's fairy tales in their original, rather adult versions before they got smoothed and made suitable for bedtime stories. The German in me likes that. The smell gradually gets a bit lighter, but the opening in the forest is never full of sun light or pretty ditsy flowers. The lightest colour comes from the fog hovering above the ground. Or is that the steam from the sauna? Because that is really what Craft smells on me after half an hour. And that is not a good association. The original idea was for the perfumes never to be worn, and as part of an installation that's a valid concept. But as soon as you step into the world of commerce that just doesn't work anymore. In the video Andrea Maack says that she just took whatever fragrance was created without any discussion or further participation. So why on Earth should I give this perfume any more thought than she did ? I find it a bit of a shame, to be honest, and a missed opportunity. But may be I'm just a grumpy old cow and not futuristic enough.  

Andrea Maack parfums vimeo video

How and where to wear:

On wool scarf when you have a cold


Forest ground image "Sleeping beauty" via flickr, by Frau Boeb, some rights reserved

Portrait of a Lady, best in Bloom

In my childhood photo album there is a picture showing me all dolled up in a red velvet dress, white knee socks and black patent leather shoes. I have long forgotten who got married that day and made me a flower girl, but the dress and the shoes I remember. Or better, I remember how proud and pretty I felt wearing them. To this day velvet holds an irresistible magical fascination and when I see a velvety item in a shop I will need to touch it. Sometimes also buy it. There are a few velvet things in my wardrobe, but they don't get out much. The little bolero found in a second hand shop in N.Y. 15 years ago is now worn permanently by the vintage mannequin, the Ibiza style dress for which I'm now 20 years too old, the black graduation dress hand made by my Godmother and a few other oddities. They all mean something to me and made me very happy at some time.

So as the soft and shiny texture of velvet, its opulence and figure hugging properties will always seduce me, a perfume that can translate this into scent will have no problem to entrance me. Meet the "Portrait of a Lady" by Edition de Parfums Frederic Malle.

My visual interpretation of Portrait of a Lady by Edition de Parfums Frederic Malle

She is a rose, of course, this Lady. No surprise here. Velvety petals of the darkest red rose, soft, seductive, rich and and proud. But be aware that his is no innocent rose, probably not even a lady.... She has smoke and spice in her, and sparkling wit. I don't know what parfumeur Dominique Ropion's inspiration was, may be the Henry James novel, but I like to think that it was a very special woman and that he wanted to make any woman wearing his perfume feeling beautiful, seductive and ever so slightly dangerous. For the colour interpretation I wanted to show the shiny wafting ripples of the scent and its amazing sillage accompanied by the black resin that gives it its darker side. It doesn't change all that much on me during the dry down, it just gets a bit softer and lasts amazingly long. I think someone should name a rose after it.

How and where to wear:

The Chelsea flower show, grubby Jeans and T-shirt, killer heels, red lipstick

Rose image via flickr by aling_, some rights reserved