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. 

Angelique

Tomorrow is the night of the Fragrance Foundation Awards, and what better opportunity to post about one of this years' finalists: Angelique, by Papillon Artisan Perfumes. Liz Moores is not only a great perfumer, but also a really wonderful woman and I'll keep all my fingers crossed for her tomorrow. Given that she managed to get all her three creations in the final round, it would be a small miracle not to see her on the stage. Go, Liz!

My visualisation for Angelique, by Papillon Artisan Perfumes

Angelique is a sparkling, melancholic and luxurious iris. It is both elegant and modern, timeless would be the best description. What I enjoy most is the really sheer beginning, where everything is in place but waiting to play its part. It never overpowers, and more importantly, never overpowders neither, as it can happen with irises sometimes. Incredibly feminine, this is a satiny glowing ripple on slightly powdered skin. 

Absolutely beautiful and a must have if you love your iris. 

How and where to wear:

Iris and early evenings belong together. 

A cocktail dress and a cocktail glass will do nicely

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)

The Odd Fellow's Bouquet, much better than it sounds

I used to be a smoker and I am sure the habit has done unspeakable things to my sense of smell; just how much it improved after quitting was astonishing. It came therefore as a bit of a surprise when I learnt that many a famous perfumer is happily puffing  away the cigarettes. Very few people in my vicinity still smoke, and those who do have taken to sucking on funky looking plastic sticks that glow in the dark, aka vaping. Before those e-fags, the weaning off method of choice often was pipe smoking. It looked ultimately better than lightening up a rollie, gave you instantaneously an air of sophistication and smelled good. Men who smoked pipes (it was pretty much a male domain) were often in their 40's, with grey strands of hair in their beards, a tumbler of whiskey or brandy in one hand, pipe in the other. Wealthy, classy, cultured...that was more or less the image, the Marlboro man with a university degree, after his mid life crisis and just before the younger, second wife (who will, sooner or later, make him give up the nicotine in any form). I was always quite fond of the typical pipe smoker, not least because I really liked the smell of good, slightly sweet tobacco. Still do, but these days I prefer it to be a perfume note and it's been ages since I last saw someone smoking a pipe.

A few weeks ago I met up with Vanessa of bonkersaboutperfume and after lunch we paid a short visit to Roullier White, which happens to be in my neighbourhood. We sniffed here and  sniffed there, and then Vanessa pointed me towards the Atkinsons line, an old school English brand with an impressive 1799 under their name, reworked&rejuvenated like so many other traditional houses. She had heard good things of the brand and was particularly keen on trying The Odd Fellow's Bouquet, a soft oriental tobacco.

My visual interpretation of The Odd Fellow's Bouquet

A sample went home with me, and I have developed a real liking for the scent. My skin often brings out the sweetness in perfumes, and it does so here as well. The first spritz is a gingery cologne type blast with a woody undertone. Nice, classy and promising. Dressy, M. finds and he is right, this is not a jeans and T-shirt scent. Or, it is, if being under dressed is just right. From then on the smokyness takes over and centre stage. This is the softest, most precious tobacco, the dangerous sort that makes you forget health warnings and doesn't stain your teeth. And it brings with it all the benzoin and the amber, creamy, soft and golden. This scent has absolutely no sharp edge, everything melts and flows and wafts in the most gentle way, like exquisite cognac swirling in a glass, leaving honey coloured tears on the surface. After a few hours the flow and the pulse of the fragrance gets a bit slower, but puffs of sweet benzoin are still coming strong, and even after 6 hours I still get the occasional vanilla tinted incense whiff as a reminder. For an Eau de Toilette this is truly remarkable. But I keep wondering whether it is a men's scent; something that usually doesn't bother me at all. I guess it's the strong image of the pipe smoking gentleman that keeps interfering here, because the perfume itself is perfectly unisex. The name doesn't help though. That's probably my only criticism: The Odd Fellow's Bouquet... Seriously?

How and where to wear:

Nice to play with expectations and miss match this gentle sophistication with whatever feels inappropriate. 

Friends reunited, The Perfume

Our 20's should, in theory, be years of youthful joy, optimism, and independence. Mystified as a glorious time for trying out everything before finding yourself, for many of us they turn out to be the most miserable years we are going to have this side of 50. Quarter life crisis is a relatively new concept and it sounds ridiculously silly and self indulgent. Even though the idea was virtually unheard of during the 80's, I suffered badly from it. With extra hairspray and bells on. 

I had left home for art school at 19 with a wardrobe full of hand-knitted jumpers, floating dresses, a ton of books and all the enthusiasm in the world, and within a year I had bottle bleached hair, mostly black clothes and a big identity crisis. Although I was living in a sleepy and rather beautiful small German spa town I wanted to to be part of the 80's unprecedented urge for the ultimate Cool with a capital C. Like many others before and after me, I spent my student years trying too hard to fit in with the New and was shamefully fast with getting rid of the Old. Ultimately, it didn't make me a happy young woman. Living on my own was an exciting and new experience, but it was also far more stressful than I dared to admit and pretending to be cool with everything and making decisions that would have great impact on the rest of my life was a little bit more than I had bargained for. At a time when even banal wardrobe decisions could make or break your peer group status it was good to have a few corners of your life that were uncontroversially simple. In one of those corners were my books, and in another was perfume. I had a little treasured collection of smelly things, mostly hippy-shop essential oils and lots of incense sticks, but also perfume bottles gifted to me by my mum or my granny. Often these "young women scents", like Charlie and Anais Anais  were overly floral and/or too clean for my tastes, but then came the 80's Big Perfume Bang. Everyone was wearing something, and lots of it! And because my mum had a good idea of what I liked she usually gifted me a bottle for Christmas. Karl Lagerfeld, Salvador Dali and Montana Parfum de Peau were amongst my precious possessions, but my signature scent in the late 80's was Jean Louis Scherrer No. 2. I loved the Art Deco inspired bottle and its slightly understated content. For the time JLS2  was probably a bit too subtle, nothing in this perfume shouted "Wham!", but it suited me, or better said, it suited the image I had of myself. 

I wore it for a decade and it was only when a man complained about my "old fashioned" perfume choices that I gradually gave it up. I know, should have given up the man instead, and not just for olfactorial disagreements. The late 90's and early 00's didn't do it for me perfume wise, and I felt that I was out of touch with what was considered a modern scent. Giving it up all together was a safer and easier option. 

Ever since my love for perfume has returned I wanted to go back to the Scherrer and see what it would evoke after all these years, but it had never been popular here in the UK and wasn't easy to find in the shops. Last autumn when I visited the little Jean Patou boutique in Paris I eventually had a chance. (Patou and Scherrer are now owned by the same British company based in glamourous Watford). I cannot say it instantly gave me imaginary shoulder pads, but it was a pleasant reunion with an old acquaintance. Pleasant enough to start looking for it on amazon and ebay. 

Last week I got lucky and for a little over a tenner it became part of my collection. I only ever owned the EdT and this is an EdP version of unknown age, but it feels sufficiently like the scent I remember. I know it has been reformulated to fit in with EU regulations and it's certainly cleaner than it used to be, but quite frankly, it's been 20 years and I've changed more than a bit as well, so I will not go into a hissy fit about it. Life goes on, we change, we get old if we're lucky, and discontinued if we're not.   

The opening is an aldehydic equivalent of big, backcombed hair, followed by tons of honey, some rose, some orris and a few drops of fruit juice and amber. This is what I can actually smell. When I looked it up online a dozen notes that I didn't notice showed up. Some of them are real pet hates of mine, like the evil peach, and in this case I'm grateful that my nose isn't detecting them. Analysing this perfume with its connection to my younger self is difficult at any rate, I simply cannot detach myself enough and whenever I try to, it muddles my brain and plays tricks with me. It has excellent sillage and I feel properly dressed when wearing it. Despite the ingredients it's never been a sweet scent for me. Warm, yes, but not sweet. Stays on for at least 6 hours and turns its golden hues into a dark orange towards the end. It comforted and hugged me then and is still lovely to me now, like a friend who has forgiven me for losing touch and happy to catch up again whenever we feel like it. I've tried hard to do a visual, but in the end I went for a picture of me trying hard to be cool in the 80's. I might have worn the scent on the day the photo was taken. 

How and where to wear:

I would like to wear this in 30 years time when they play KISS  for afternoon tea entertainment at retirement home. Hope my joints will still allow for some moves on the dance floor then.