Blomma Cult

Perfumers often have interesting biographies and it's not uncommon for them to arrive at their profession after long careers in other fields, be it science or art, architecture, music, or fashion. Former experiences in other creative corners of the world are incorporated into new brands and fragrance creations and make for a fascinating fusion of ideas.  Dr. Mike is a good example of this (relatively) new indie movement. A former pharmacist/musician, he founded his perfume brand Room 1015 in an attempt to "unite his two passions into one fashion." Inspired by music and with a decidedly rock and roll aesthetic, the house has 4 scents on offer so far. When you order the sample pack you get a little promo vinyl, something I certainly haven't seen for a while, and the website is quite a feast on the eyes as well. I really like the design of the brand -  it's fresh, modern, a bit grungy, colourful and different. The focus is on creating a multi sensual experience, incorporating smell, sound, video, photography and colour. No wonder I am intrigued.

Power Ballad, Electric Wood, Atramental and Blomma Cult. After a good trying session I  really liked Electric Wood and Atramental, really disliked Power Ballad, and loved Blomma Cult. I'm undoubtedly showing my age here by falling for a scent that was inspired by the 60's and 70's, rather then one that seems to be based on whatever young people regard as music these days .... 

My visualisation for Blomma Cult, by Room 1015

As you can see, the image is not quite as abstract as usual, but for Room 1015  I wanted to base my visuals on photographs rather than digital illustrations. A bunch of tulip petals served me just right. For the perfume's 60's vibe I opted for a few solarisation filters to bring out the pinks, purples and creamy/peachy tones I wanted to feature in the image.  

Blomma Cult is a wonderfully soft violet patchouli mix, creamy and fresh and sensual. Patchouli is of course an obvious choice for a flower power perfume, but here the note is used with balance and only hints at the hippy shops of good old times. What I enjoyed most about Blomma Cult was how it rendered the violet in a modern way without losing its delicacy. It's a sweet affair, especially at the beginning, but there is a lot of light to counter any heaviness, and in the end the patchouli dances with a vanilla musk until the party is over. 

Peace. 

How and where to wear:

Blissfully awaiting another Age of Aquarius

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.

Frau Tonis aus Berlin

The things we buy on holidays!!

Over the years I have collected a few weird and questionable items whilst being brainwashed by sun, beautiful beaches, vibrant colours looking good on other people and drinks that tasted really great at the time. I did read somewhere that after about 7 days of holiday your brain sort of goes into relax-mode and even the simplest task, like doing the maths and convert the currency correctly, can become too much of an effort. I am not overly guilty of buying anything really daft...

"Oh, look! A hand knitted Minion in pink!!!

Can I have it?!"

... but of course the perfume and beauty aisles and shops in far away places are difficult to resist. We are just back from a trip to Japan where I bought a few skin care products that I have still to figure out what they're for. As convenient it is to be able to buy (almost) everything online, nothing beats browsing around and finding something beautiful to take home. And if it's a bit tacky and touristy - so what? Which brings me to:

My visual for Frau Tonis Violet

Frau Tonis perfumes. Based in a shop conveniently close to the famous Checkpoint Charlie, it is mentioned in about any guide book that prises itself on being up to date with the local lifestyle. The range is pretty impressive, may be too impressive actually, and they offer mini sets with a bit of local folklore. There's an Eau de Berlin, a Linden based perfume and... the one that I ended up buying: a Violet that claims in a very wishy washy way to be Marlene Dietrich's favourite scent. 

Is it tourist tacky? Yes, it is a bit, but that doesn't prevent me from wearing it from time. It's a very sweet powdery violet with a lot of raspberry and a kick of a bit spice/pepper on a base of hairspray. It's not the world most refined scent, and very likely entirely synthetic, but it smells nice. Juicy pink, light purple and grey. Bright, but not without a hint of elegance. The violet feels, despite the sweetness, rather modern and urban. Uncomplicated, pretty, doesn't cost an arm an a leg. What's not to like? I bought it because I really wanted to bring back a bit of Berliner Luft with me, and I don't regret this souvenir purchase at all. I could have done much worse and end up with a Berlin bear in drag.

How and where to wear:

Channel your inner Barbie

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

Liquid Night

I love it when a fragrance house offers the choice of small bottles. My last purchase was a 10 ml travel spray of Musc Ravageur, bought on the spot after wearing it for only a few minutes. I dismiss the pea counters (German for nit pickers)  who keep on telling me that the price per ml is such a bad bargain. I'm not buying a sack of potatoes to feed an army here, I just want to own a piece of something beautiful, and if it's a small piece, so be it. If I love it enough to empty the travel sized one I'm very probably going to buy a bigger amount as a result, and I wish more companies would see the benefit of  'small is beautiful'. Another one that does, albeit  with a very limited distribution, is US based A Lab on Fire, which also adopted a similar editorial style concept to FM. (But who doesn't, these days?)

Liquid Night wasn't an instant love; I had come to the achingly hip Paris department store 

Colette to try A Lab on Fire's "What we do in Paris is secret", but that was sadly out of stock. I liked LN though, and 20 something Euros for a 15 ml bottle was a good enough offer to buy it. I thought. And then it sat on the shelf for months, unloved and collecting dust. I still liked it, in theory, but never got round to wear it. And then suddenly a few weeks ago, I just didn't know what to try...and gave it a go.

Liquid Night, my visualisation

Surprise, surprise: this time I love it. It immediately grabs me with an effortlessly chic aesthetic that is totally wearable but unique enough not to be boring. A creamy saffron note binds dry hinoki woods to aromatics and abstract floral accords and everything dries down to a subtle vanilla. Despite the name, it's actually a rather clear cut fragrance, not sharp, but not floating either. When I created its image I started with very fluid and organic shapes, but after hours working on it and not getting it right I realised what it needed was a very simple geometric structure to emphasise on the contemporary elegance. I took inspiration from neon lights glistening and sparkling on wet asphalt. My colours are very muted, but in principal it's a cold green/warm pink perfume. I find it incredibly suited for this in-between-two-seasons-weather we're having, where spring is on the cards and a few daffs are out, but the wind is still icy and biting enough to wear a big comfy scarf. 

Some reviews complain about the synthetic nature of Liquid Night. I personally couldn't care less. As long as they don't charge me Roja Dove prices for a bottle of ISOE super, I can live with a bit of chemical wizardry in my fragrances. 

How and where to wear:

Not so much a how or where, but with what this time.... my newest fashion find and love is German brand Oska and Liquid Night is a perfect match. A bit of a Japanese influence, urban and edgy, but incredibly comfortable.

Seven Veils by Byredo

Byredo, the Swedish perfume house was one of the first niche brands I encountered and sampled in full, thanks to the generosity of the Byredo staff at Liberty. I already wrote about M/Mink, which is one of the most daring scents I've ever smelled. Today's candidate is a much more wearable choice. Seven Veils. It bursts open with an abundance of colour and spice - a marvellous ouverture - and then leaves me alone with a rosy heart that's neither here nor there, and falls exhausted onto the cushions as a creamy vanilla.  The sillage is stronger and darker than the smell on skin, a dance of seven veils, indeed. But you won't lose you head over this. A floriental that pretends to be far more dangerous than it actually is. Pretty though...

Seven Veils by Byredo, the picture

How and where to wear:

Belly dance class in North London

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. 

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...

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

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

Histoires de Parfums Tuberose 1, the Capricieuse

Sometimes I think it would be great if our political leaders would have the bynames of old. While they are all undoubtedly hoping for being labelled the newest reincarnation of  "The Great", or "The Magnificent", it's far more likely that history and the Internet will judge them as "The Incompetent" or "The Fence sitter". Mocking people for their physical features is not very P.C., but names like "The Bald" or "The Hunchback" always striked me as rather flattering in their unimaginative directness. If you did nothing noteworthy you probably did well, because there is an abundance of kings and emperors whose actions deserved them labels such as "The Bloodthirsty" and "The Impaler", or simply "The Mad". 

Unsurprisingly, you can also find dozens of "The Good", "The Wise" and several "Holy" ones, demonstrating quite nicely that spin doctoring wasn't invented by the Labour Party in the 90's. By now you probably wonder why I am bothering you with all this history stuff. It will lead to the perfume eventually, promised. My top three royal nicknames are:

"With the Good Memory"

"The Unready"

"The Cabbage"

Unfortunately I couldn't find a "The Capricious". That would have been really handy. I'm sure there have been plenty of men and women of influence whose unpredictability and impulsive nature qualified them for such a by-name. It's a description mostly reserved for women, in that slightly patronising :"What goes on in her little head ..." way, but it works formidably for Histoires de Parfums Tuberose No.1 "The Capricieuse".

Histoires de Parfum, a French niche house, have created a fragrance library based on historical events and characters, with perfumes like 1804, George Sand, 1725, Casanova and their newest, 1899, Ernest Hemingway. They have, however, derived from the year/person pattern a few times and in 2010 they've created a trilogy of tuberose scents, named No.1 Capricieuse, No.2 Virginal and No.3 Animale. Tuberose is not very high on  the list of notes I  like and therefore I would normally not pick a scent that is especially dedicated to it, but I am a big fan of Iris.  So when I read on various blogs that this perfume is more of an Iris with a mere hint of tuberose, I ordered a sample. 

My interpretation of Tuberse No 1, The Capricieuse

One could argue that the nickname is already justified by the fact that what's written on the bottle is mischievously misleading, and if you are a fan of tuberose that might very well be the case. For me it is capricious in more than one way. It hits me with that iris note, quite powdery and rooty, a bit sweet, a bit dry. And then it makes a jump, or the olfactory equivalent of one, and it's suddenly stripped of all its melancholy elegance and smiles at me like a tooth gapped, x-legged 13 year old girl wearing a polka dot dress. I have no idea why, or how, but that is what it does to me. It then changes quickly back to the violet powdered lady in the purple velvet gown. And this little magical trick continues as long as the scent lasts. Back and forth, back and forth. In terms of colour it has to be a red bordering on purple against bright pink, and those colours come with their own special textures. The suede/velvet for the purply red and a shiny plastic for the pink. When I wear it I feel slightly giddy, in a good way. It does something to my mind, pokes me when I had just forgotten that I wear it. This is the essence of capriciousness, with a capital C. And that doesn't make it an everyday perfume, but it's a delicious and strong minded little thing, this "Non Tuberose" and a fantastic addition to my perfume collection. I also have to applaud HdP here for their 50 ml bottle and moderate price policy. Not universally done in the niche world. 

How and where to wear:  

For the days when your outfit doesn't "match" and the colours are "clashing". The only pair of tights you have found in the morning has a ladder (female version) or your tie has a big marmite stain (male version) and your hair could do with a hat. 

Do you care? Not a lot. 

Hasu-no-Hana, They do make them like that again!

Various articles, reviews and books in the perfume world are beginning to suggest that old fashioned, classical scents are making a slow comeback. I think it's only natural for trends to turn upside down after a few years and if the prediction is going to be true it wouldn't surprise me. In fact, I'd be delighted. There is also a trend in re-branding and relaunching old perfume houses up to the point when there was never an original in the first place, but a depuis/since 18XX looked temptingly good on the bottle. Grossmith is  a good old fashioned British name for a perfume house and it comes with a remarkable history. It makes me think of manly Eau de Cologne, moustache wax, shaving foam and brilliantine, all administered to the real gentlemen by his personal valet. And I wouldn't be totally wrong, but not quite right either. Wrong gender, for starters. I managed to get the three "classical" scents as samples from Bloom, and I highly recommend to try them all. My favourite is Hasu-no-Hana, described on the company's website as a Japanese lotus lily with chypre and oriental facets.

If money wasn't an issue, in what sort of hotel would you stay for a weekend? The latest boutique affair with all the modern features and some quirky design and contemporary art in the middle of a cool city, or an old fashioned 5 star luxury manor house full of grandeur and excellence surrounded by spectacular countryside? Usually I'd go for the former. Aesthetically I will be more at home there and I suspect the old palace to be a bit stuffy and full of retired rich people who demand a personal butler to care for their every whim. But sometimes.........for just a few days....I think it would be great to pretend and go for the whole Gosford Park thing. And if I do, I will take a bottle of Hasu-no-Hana.

My lotus pattern inspired by Hasu-no-Hana

I usually don't want to go the illustrative route with my perfume visuals, but in this case I feel like doing something different. Deepest purple and orange silk with golden embroideries. Iridescent and fluid like a chypre, but in the boldest colours, with wooden strength and incredible, dusty and dry oriental staying power. After a spectacular bitter orange opening it develops deeper and stronger than any modern designer fragrances ever dared and it keeps a grandeur that most niche houses would equally shy away from. It's not that it uses notes that have gone out of fashion, on the contrary, the list reads like so many other from quality fragrances today: Iris, tonka beans, ylang ylang, sandalwood, bergamot, oakmoss. But is that really a perfume that a Victorian woman would have worn? I have to confess my ignorance here and will need to catch up on my perfume history knowledge. Another reason to get Barbara Herman's new book "Scent and Subversion", I suppose.

Another lotus pattern inspired by Hasu-no-Hana

Hasu-no-Hana is so rich that I feel a bit like an impostor wearing it. My middle class, middle age, middle everything status is slightly at odds with the glory that evaporates from this fragrance. It's marvellous. It's wonderful. It's delicious. It's pure luxury. I want a bottle. I can't afford a bottle. I will spray the last drags of my sample on my loveliest silk scarf and sigh melodramatically.

How and where to wear:
There isn't much need for anything else. A silk wrap or an open kimono will do. Spread yourself lasciviously over a chaiselongue, sip on  some tea from a delicate porcelain cup and make a witty comment about the weather


Product picture via grossmith.com website

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. 

Parfums de Nicolaï, New York

Cities and perfumes have one thing in common: They sell dreams.

Whether they are mythical or real, cities inspire us, bring out the best and the worst in us, make and break us, and have promised glory  and delivered doom. They evoke strong opinion and fight hard for a place in our hearts. So naming a perfume after a city can be tricky, because so many imaginations are already out there and in general no one will agree with your olfactory version of Paris, Bombay or New York.

And, of course cities change incredibly fast, one just has to look at the rapid transformation of places like Shanghai. When Patricia Nicolaï created New York in 1989 her idea of the city must have been different from the one we have now. Back in the late 80’s New York was still regarded as the true and only melting pot and whether you believed that to be a good or a bad thing depended on your political couleur.

My visual interpretation of New York, Parfums de Nicolaï

The first time I was wearing it it created a veritable rainbow in my mind, and this will be forever the image I'll have when I think of the scent.  PdN N.Y. is indeed a celebration of the melting pot New York, and all the colours of the rainbow come and say Hello while it dries down after a strong citrus beginning. There is orange spice and red flower, green and blue freshness, and most surprisingly, this rather old fashioned poudre, like a Guerlain compact, for which I have chosen the purple. To manage this kaleidoscope without  making a mess is no small feast. It is classified as a masculine scent but I think nowadays it would suit both genders. I’d happily wear it. It doesn’t set my world on fire, but it’s beautifully made, slightly formal and it makes me a bit sentimental. I would certainly like that on a man and so my How and where is more for the boys this time.

How and where to wear:

First date, while the conversation will flow from A to Z and back, so will your perfume

Massimo Vignelli's 1972 New York City Subway Map (image: nycsubway.org)