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.

Elegant hippy: Patchouli 24 by Le Labo

Once a hippy, always a hippy? I do have pictures of me wearing purple, hand died dungarees, a Palestine scarf and about 2 dozen badges showing all my caring for the world's problems. I used to burn a lot of incense, drank gallons of vanilla flavoured tea and liked patchouli. Still do. These days my patchouli just has to be a bit more sophisticated. And Le Labo's creation certainly delivers on the sophistication front. 

My visualisation of Patchouli 24 by Le Labo

What I mostly get from this fragrance is a smokiness that manages to be both wet and dry, stays away from the churches AND the BBQs, and is harsh and soft in pretty equal measures. My friend Nick described it once as sexy bacon, and while I agree that there is an edible element to this, for me it's not bacon. I hate the smell of fried bacon! This perfume far more evokes the image of smoked chestnuts. And because there is a strong leather element coming through it feels like holding a bag of hot chestnuts in a leather gloved hand. Not that the perfume actually smells of chestnuts. That's confusing, I know, sorry for free associations running wild. Patchouli 24 pops up on my skin with a surprisingly herbal patchouli note. A very short Bang! From then on the note stays very silently in the back. Leather, resin and burned woods take over. Wet leaves in autumn fires is another image that comes to mind, and right now, with autumn finally in full swing, is a great time to wear this perfume. It has earthiness and elegance in perfect balance, and that is what autumn very much means to me. A time for long walks in the countryside but also the best season for indulging in fashion. I have worn P24 during a 4 hour walk in a damp forest in Kent and it did work splendidly on slightly sweaty skin.  The perfume finally settles in a vanilla, which is a tiny bit too sweet for the entire composition, I find. For once, I had wished for the woods to continue. It has remarkable staying power, over 10 hours on me, which doesn't happen all that often. This will probably smell quite different, but nonetheless most delicious on a man.  

How and where to wear:

Guy Fawkes night, here we come!

P.S. I had my finger on the purchase button for a 15ml bottle of this from the Le Labo website. £37.50 isn't cheap for such a small amount, but at least they do offer bottles under a 100ml..... But, dear LeLabo people, do you think it's clever to add the VAT sneakily at the very end, when all the form filling and credit card numbering is done? It's not. 

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)

Imaginary Authors, Chapter 1

Backstories for perfumes are sometimes interesting, often ostentatious and nearly always written by some more or less clever PR company. Having worked in advertising myself I usually waver between cynical disbelieve and appreciation when it's really well done. Imaginary Authors is an American perfume house which have apparently found someone to do that job very nicely, and even better, with a fun twist. Not only have they invented a backstory for their scents, they invented the authors as well, complete with his or her biography and a blurb of the novel which inspired the perfume. Pretty meta. On top of the written stories the line has quirky aesthetics, complete with washed out photography and cute illustrations. Despite all the lovingly done visual identity and the well written copy they have not forgotten the most important thing: The fragrances. There are 8 scents available in the UK, I have so far tested 5 and today I want to write about the two I liked the most, The Cobra and the Canary and The Soft Lawn.

The Cobra and the Canary is an orris/leather melange which starts with a citrus note that never entirely leaves the scene, just invites the other components to have a go when it's their time. The leather is somewhere between suede and butch, on my skin that depended on the outside temperature (it's been pretty warm this week in the UK). The usual softness of the orris is flanked with tobacco and dried grass which gives a nice smoky/dry texture. The whole feel of the scent is very summerly, a bit like an On the Road Again version of Cuir Ottoman, and it's pretty damn sexy. Projection was good enough to earn compliments from random people, something that doesn't happen all that often. As I said at the beginning, the freshness stays on until the dry down and TCATC is quite a linear affair, but not by any means simple. Lovely scent, makes me want to meet the young man who will wear this and break my heart. (Entirely imaginary) 

The second fragrance did come as a bit of a surprise: Green perfumes and me, we have a problem. I often find them too harsh, too bitter, too medicinal, and even the harmless refreshing ones or the great classics of the genre do not work for me; and I have really tried. Consequently I am very reluctant to test a perfume called: The Soft Lawn, with the given notes of Linden blossom, Ivy, vetiver, oakmoss, tennis ball and clay court. Hm. Not sure. The tennis ball and the clay are probably just some gimmick, and the rest is green.

My visual interpretation of The Soft Lawn by Imaginary Authors

But, but... what a nice one! It really is super soft this lawn. One on which you can rest your head and aching body and it will give you comfort and peace. The opening is full of Linden blossom, a fresh and yet calming note, and ivy and vetiver following suit to add some weight to all the fluffyness. It stays pretty linear from there on until it disappears on me after about 4 hours. I can't detect any tennis balls, but it's been a while since I smelled one that wasn't drenched in dog drool. The tennis inspiration for this fragrance isn't so much Wimbledon with hints of sweat and glory, but playing a relaxed double with your friends at the end of a glorious British summer day. In your own court, at the back of the garden. If Brideshead Revisited ever needed a perfume, it would be this one. Understated, sophisticated and terribly lovely it soothes and wraps you in soft green blankets. There is a mild melancholy hidden there somewhere (all that ivy gives more shade than light) and may be that is what attracts me to it. I rarely seek refreshment from a perfume, that's what shower gels are for. An all green scent that manages to be soothing rather than refreshing is a rare find and this one goes straight on the full bottle wish list, despite the fact that I do not own a tennis court, a well trimmed hedge and a worn out teddy bear. 

How and where to wear:

Grab a copy of Brideshead, in paper form, not as an e-book, and find yourself a nice spot in a park.

Aleksandr

When I reviewed Jardins d'Armide from Oriza L.Legrand the other week I mentioned that I really would like to see the house move from the recreation of historic fragrances to telling "old"  stories with a contemporary twist. And then chance will have it and I find someone else who is doing exactly that. Three weeks ago I attended a perfume event at Bloom perfumery in Spitalfields, where Carlos Huber, the founder of Arquiste perfumes presented and explained his fragrance line. Unfortunately I managed to arrive a whopping 30 minutes late (thank you number 78 bus, thank you apple maps, thank you stupid no sense of orientation brain) which was a real shame because not only did Carlos explain  a lot  about the  inspirations behind scents but  he also gave us the opportunity to have a sniff at the single ingredients he used. I entered the shop just in time to hear him talking about Aleksandr, the perfume inspired by the rather tragic story of Russian poet Aleksandr Pushkin. It is told in notes of:

Violet leaves

Vodka

Leather

Fir balm

Smelling the violet leaves was a bit of a revelation - no sweetness, no pastell colour, but a strong earthy green with quite some punch. Not unpleasant, but a bit in your face. Carlos explained that he used that particular note for the earthyness but also because it does have that old fashioned powdery perfume element. Perfumes did smell of violets at that time. The next note, vodka, or alcohol in general makes a lot of sense in terms of telling the story of a Russian poet of the 19th century, but this particular poison is famed for its non-smelling properties. On my little paper strip I detected just a hint of fizzy freshness, more like a vodka/champagne cocktail than the pure thing. 

And then the dominant note, the leather. The essence we smelled was of the finest quality boot leather. Not a feminine suede glove, but polished black riding boots. I am a bit of a sucker for 19th century men's costumes. High boots over tight trousers, what's not to like?

The final note, the fir balm, hinting at a forest touched by a misty morning fog, (the perfect time for a duel?) was again a bit of a surprise. Strong enough to put me off if the final creation would have too much of it.  

After the presentation, when we all mingled and tested the perfumes in detail, I tried Aleksandr on skin. To my great surprise it didn't turn out to be testosterone driven at all.  The violet leaves that were so completely green on paper suddenly smelled more like the petals; sweet and fragile. If you have ever been to a perfumista gathering, you will know that even the most reserved people suddenly feel compelled to smell the lower arms and wrists of someone who just happens to stand next to them and in this case my fellow perfume lovers all expressed a certain surprise at how Aleksandr had developed on my skin.

My drawing for Aleksandr by Arquiste

For me and on me it's a melancholic, leather based fragrance with a very, very soft heart. It's one of those leathers that can go both ways (in terms of gender) and 360 degrees in terms of aspect. And I love it for that. What I like about all the Arquiste fragrances I have tested is that you can detect a unique quirkyness. It's nice to read up on the stories but the perfumes do work entirely on their own merits. Whether you involve yourself in the history or not is up to you and this, for me, marks the difference to some of the perfumes of  the house of Oriza. 

It always helps if the creator/editor of a perfume house is enthusiastic about his/her work, charming and handsome. Carlos Huber is all of that and I wish him and his line all sorts of good luck. Well deserved.

How and where to wear:

St.Petersburg, National library of Russia, with gay pride

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. 

Nirmal

The holidays over, the tree out for recycling, the first Pilates session after 4 weeks of slouching done with, it's pretty much time for a new blog post. But my problem is: I got a wonderful perfume for Christmas and I want to tell you about it, but the visual I've created for it doesn't look like I think it should and whatever I try with it makes it worse. OTOH there is another perfume for which the visual is bang on, but I am uninspired to write about it, and it feels wrong to start the year with a perfume that I don't like. I have now pondered about what to do for a few days and decided to write a rather personal post about the Christmas we've had.

This year, for the first time in 9 years, I was actually staying at home in London. None of the usual travelling to respective parents in either Germany or France, no beach holiday in the tropics. We were looking forward to some quiet and peaceful days with good food and lots of booze in front of the fireplace. And because it felt special we broke with the rule of not giving each other Christmas presents. I know lots of people find it totally weird, but that was the way we did it. Not this time though. 

This time I got, surprise, surprise.....a perfume. And not just one that I had mentioned on the blog or to him in person, that would have been too easy, I guess. M. has a good nose and a clear idea of what he wanted, and he got me the most beautiful, soft and elegant iris I've tried so far. Nirmal, by Laboratorio Olfattivo. It opens with a carrot note that is not vegetably, but I assume it helps if you actually like carrots. After a short moment the iris and violet come to play and they are combined to show off all the powdery dryness they have to its maximum effect. With the powder comes the sweetness, but it's not sugary, not heady, but ethereal and transparent. This particular note combination can easily be too fleeting, like the beautiful  Cuir de Nacre by Ann Gerard, but this doesn't happen with Nirmal. It has excellent staying power this perfume, and lasts a good 8 hours on me. During its development the cedar wood and suede notes become more and more prominent, and when the leathery softness is at its strongest it reminds me of Cuir d'Iris, but the Parfumerie Générale scent is a brown to Nirmal's white, a skin warmth compared to a paper thin softness. But as I said, it's not just a fluffy violet/iris. The name Nirmal,  indicating pureness, gives a hint of the general idea and inspiration behind it but nothing is, or should ever be just pure, and this perfume has quite a lot of backbone and a strong personality. Thankfully it also avoids the wet earth root vegetable direction of some iris perfumes. It's probably not the most original creation, but if you like your iris with a hint of suede there is a good chance you will love this perfume. I know I do, and I'm well impressed with my husband's sniffing skills.

Here then ends my description and had it been the Christmas we had hoped for, I would have nothing more to tell about it and all would be good in our life. Unfortunately, it wasn't going to be.

Just after Christmas, on the night from Friday to Saturday, our beloved cat Basil was killed by dogs. We had been in bed waiting for the cat flap to announce him, unable to sleep and sick with worry. In the first morning light M. went out and found his body in a back garden. I can't describe the pain I felt when I looked into his eyes to see the pain and grief that confirmed my greatest fears. Basil was dead. 

Pet owners are able to understand the strong force of emotions that come with the death of a beloved animal, so very different and yet, sometimes just as ferocious, than the loss we feel for the death of humans. Basil was the cat part of our little family, we certainly had a bit of a child substitute thing going on there... and the flat feels very empty without him.

So instead of posting a visual of the perfume that I will forever associate with last year's Christmas  I will show you a picture of Basil. Our wonderful, soft, grumpy and beautiful cat who is no longer here. 

Basil having a nap on the sofa

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

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

Cuir de Nacre, Verweile doch...

...Du bist so schoen. 

It's usually not my style to get overly poetic when describing perfumes; I leave the elegies and opulent odes to those better equipped for that sort of thing, but in this case I have to make an exception and use a quote from Goethe's Faust.

"Verweile doch, du bist so schoen.."  (Stay a while, you are so beautiful) is probably the most quoted quote from the most quoted play from the most quoted author in the German language.

Often tragically misquoted, these few words do not describe a romantic encounter with a woman, but Faust's wish to capture the impossible: the fleeting moment. Bliss, we would probably say these days. I don't want to get too literature lectures here, but it is a defining moment in the play and I have spent many an hour in school debating it. What I find interesting is the connection with perfume and when I tested Cuir de Nacre from Ann Gerard it was the thing that immediately came to my mind, and with some regret. 

My visual interpretation of Cuir de Nacre by Ann Gerard

How can something so beautiful be so eager to disappear? It is the most elegant and soft leathered Iris, much softer than the Cuir d'Iris from PG, and I want to bury my nose in it and cry out:" Verweile doch...!" But no, it won't. Not only does it not stay forever, it doesn't even keep long enough for polite company. The moment of bliss, when you fall in love with a scent is very bittersweet here, because it makes puff and it's gone. I actually thought that something was probably wrong with the sample, or my skin or both, but it seems its fleeting temperament has been noted by other perfume bloggers as well. I'm a tiny bit heartbroken. 

How and where to wear:

High speed dating

Verweile doch image via flickr by silviaN, some rights reserved

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.