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

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...

Rozy.

I started to write this post on a Eurostar train when I was not in the mood to read and M, my travelling companion, kept himself busy with a comedy show on the ipad. I was wearing Rozy which I had been introduced to just two days earlier at an evening at Bloom perfumery in East London. For a full report on the evening and the wonderful and inspirational Vero Kern please read the post by Tara on Olfactoria's travels.

Vero Kern at Bloom perfumery

Being immediately drawn to this mysterious scent I decided to spend the train journey to Paris wearing it. The fragrance was so present that it felt like carrying another soul with me, an invisible traveller, if you like. I began writing random words and associations, trying to unfold and dissect the perfume's soul possessing nature when I realised that a lot of the vocabulary in my notes stemmed from the magical and the drug related. Intoxicating, mind altering, possessive, psychedelic, bewitching... 
No coincidence, given how closely connected these two worlds are. It's a very small step from the love potions and ointments of medieval witches to Timothy Learie's LSD experiments. And if we still lived in the Middle Ages, I am sure that our modern perfumers would be accused of witchcraft. The women amongst them foremost and anyway. Not much danger to end up on the pyres when you produce a fragrance that just smells a bit nice, but if your creation is as potent and beautiful as rozy in its voile d'extrait form, you might be in trouble. Of course I'm not suggesting here that Vero Kern is a modern witch, I merely want to give an idea of the power her scents possess. So, back to the rozy, which at that stage (about 2 hours in) had developed to its full potential, and I had been thoroughly hexed by scent. 

My visual interpretation of rozy. in voile d'extrait by vero.profumo

At the event Vero told us that her inspiration for rozy had been the magnificent Anna Magnani in the film Rose Tattoo. And of course, having just reviewed another perfume dedicated to her, Nobile 1942's Chypre, I am now most intrigued about comparing  them. There are undoubtly  hues to both scents that show them to be in a colour family of golden yellows, burnt oranges, rosy reds and some brown, but the overall effect is very different. Chypre is less vibrant and multifaceted but gentler, more a hearty home cooked dish compared to rozy's finesse. By this I don't want to diminish the Nobile scent, it's just a different approach to a similar theme but there is no denying that vero.profumo's creations are in a league on their own. 

When M saw me working on the visual for rozy he said:" Oh, that looks like a maelstrom of roses." and he was right, I wanted to capture the perfume's amazing ability to take you and your soul on a mind altering ride where it's not you, the wearer, who is in control. An oriental rose glazed in aromatic honey. Tuberose, but thankfully not too much of it, balsamic labdanum, vanilla, cassis and sandalwood. The mere notes never explain the effect of the whole melange coming together. In this case, it's a mixture that is both unsettling and comforting. How that is achieved with such quality and opulence I have absolutely no idea, but given that Vero Kern is also a trained aromatherapist, it's safe to say she knows her stuff.  It is not an easy scent for me though. For all its beauty, I simply have to be in the mood to be that much entranced. When I was wearing it in the relative closed environment of the train I got almost a bit scared by it. Rozy doesn't just sit on my skin and dries away, it dances. It has an excellent sillage but manages not to overpower an entire train carriage (just me) and stays forever on my perfume eating skin. I found a trace of it the next morning. If you like the general description of the notes, (don't be scare off if any of them is usually not to your liking, it's all in the mix) and want to have a perfume like no other, rozy in the Voile d'Extrait concentration is a must try. I find it truly magical. 

How and where to wear:

If you're not afraid to wear something that goes on and under your skin then rozy will make excellent company.

An explanatory note: This review is based on 

a.) rozy in voile d'extrait concentration, there is also an EdP version which is a bit greener and has peach and mint instead of the cassis, as far as I remember.

b.) a sample given to me by Bloom perfumery at the end of an event for which I paid.

The Gentleman and the Lady

When I sit in my little office I look at a wall of souvenirs. Postcards, labels, business cards, little notes, photos of cats and people, tickets and other oddities which I find interesting. One of the items is a postcard from an art exhibition I visited in Paris last October, showing "Box seats at the theatre, The Gentleman and the Lady", by Swiss painter and print maker Felix Vallotton. 

Although not really his most famous work, it was the image the curators of the Paris exhibition had chosen to advertise the exhibition all over Paris, and it attracted me to go and see it. I had no real idea what to expect other than seeing the work of a late 19th, early 20th century's painter of mediocre fame. The exhibition held a vast amount of artworks, varying from slightly surreal and beautifully stylised landscapes to portraits, nudes of debatable quality, fantastic black and white wood prints, horrendous illustrations of classical and biblical themes and a few absolutely astonishing paintings of genre scenes, often showing couples. I walked around being surprised that one man had managed to create art with such difference in quality and craftsmanship. His wood prints in particular were outstanding, and he has obviously been very influential for Aubrey Beardsley. And on the other hand he produced some truly awful female nudes that make you wonder if some adolescent wannabe painter had been temporarily given the reign over the canvas. But whenever the women in his art have their clothes on they are interesting and as a spectator I want to know more about them and their story. 

A particularly weird nude from Vallotton

Example of Vallotton's wood cuts

Box Seats at the theatre, the Gentleman and the Lady by Felix Vallotton, 1909

The decision to chose The Gentleman and the Lady as the icon of the exhibition was clearly an inspired one, and having since spent 4 months with the image in front of me, it hasn't lost any of its enigmatic power, despite it's somewhat shoddy technical finesse.  What is the story behind this couple surrounded by darkness, he in hiding, almost trying not to be seen and she looking forlorn and lonely, overshadowed by her enormous hat. The balcony belongs to the theatre or the opera, but wherever they are, he seems to be watching her, not anything on stage. They are very much in a public space, yet obscured by darkness. However glamourous and joyous the perfomance might be, it doesn't reach up to the Box seats. There is a lot of sadness in this painting and a weird dangerous undertone is humming in the background. Is she a "kept" woman and he married to another? What is she thinking? What perfume might she wear? Something he bought for her? To answer that last question in a lazy sort of way I could just go back in perfume history and chose one of the early Guerlains, or a Penhaligon,  but I'm not really familiar with vintage scents, and I'm sure there will be a contemporary fragrance out there that feels right for her. 

I think it should be something with a hint of powdery, old fashioned toiletries. But as she is the dominant figure in the painting, her scent will also have a strong attitude. Something that announces its presence, but not giving away all its secrets all at once, and then only to the person coming close enough to smell it on skin. Hm...
Lipstick Rose from Frederic Malle comes to mind. As does Moulin Rouge from Histoires de Parfums. It's been a while since I had last smelled Lipstick Rose, so today I made a detour to Liberty to get - not a sample - but a sealed piece of paper. ( I know they have samples, they know they have samples, but we sort of both pretend they don't exist. Does my head in, but is another story...) So back home with LR both on paper and on skin I have to say that although it fits the criteria of "old fashioned make up" it is far to bright and happy go lucky in colour. The memories condensed in this fragrance are happy ones and  the painting is gloomy, its hues subdued and earthy.  My other idea fairs much better. From the start Moulin Rouge is actually a bit "muffig". This neat German word describes a variety of slightly unpleasant smells, ranging from damp to stale. Moulin Rouge is a bit rank, but not too much, just on the right side of  "times gone by". It feels alltogether like a scent that has captured something that has disappeared. If you think of the Nicole Kidman Moulin Rouge of the musical/movie with its plush colours and overbearing decor you are in the right place but wrong time for this perfume. This Moulin Rouge is a bit haunted, the carpets and velvet curtains are fading and the music has long long gone. But the Histoires de Parfums creation is much better than I make it sound. After about an hour I do get powdery sweetness, and warmth, a bit waxy, with some dryness that, for me, speaks of the empty stage and a dusty red curtain that will never be lifted again. It's a lovely scent that stays close to skin, with hints of red roses and pale iris, but ultimately this theatre backstage smell is not mine. It is, however, a fantastic time machine sort of fragrance, and from now on the perfume I imagine the sad Lady in Vallotton's painting to be wearing whenever I look at her.

This is in a way, the second artwork meets perfume post on this blog, and I am planning to make that an irregular feature. Because I don't really think of these posts as proper reviews, more like inspiried musings, I will not do  a Where and How to wear for those. Just doesn't feel right. But if the artwork speaks to you, you might also like my chosen perfume.  

And now: Off  to Thailand.

 

Testa Maura, Carticasi the Green

Buying perfume samples online makes me feel like a child in a sweet shop. Whenever I'm on a website offering me x amount of samples for a small sum I go a bit nuts. And if they have testing friendly prices, like Bloom, Les Senteurs and Roullierwhite, I'm very happy to indulge in my hobby and include some never heard of scents just for the fun of it.

Testa Maura is a Corsican perfume house and Carticasi is described as: Mastic, galbanum, rose. That's it. Take it or leave it. Completely fulfilling any clichéd image I ever had about Corsica. If you don't like it, f... off. We don't need you or any of your Parisian friends. Don't buy our houses, don't eat our food, stay away from our women (this knowledge is entirely based on Astérix en Corse...)

Unfortunately, I've never been to Corsica. M. has been, and he says it's the most beautiful place in Europe. I'm not disputing that, but I really want to see for myself. A lot of travelling descriptions seem to agree on the particular aroma of the island. Chestnuts, for sure. And this alluring mastic. The resin of the mastic shrub, often used as a spice to flavour Mediterranean sweets, can also be chewed as a gum, the word "masticate" actually derives from the very plant. 

Testa Maura perfumes are labelled as being made of 100% natural ingredients so I assume that the scent is quite a true rendition of the original plant and its resin, but I wouldn't be able to tell for sure before I have been to Corsica and smelled it myself (hint, hint, hint.)

My visual interpretation of Testa Maura, Carticasi

There is a German rhyming song about colours and this line:" Gruen, gruen, gruen sind alle meine Kleider, gruen, gruen, gruen ist alles was ich mag..." sums up this perfume quite nicely. Even if you don't speak any German, I think you get the gist of it. This is a green scent, make no mistake. But what a green! All the greens! From the citrussy yellow to the mossiest dark, and lots and lots in between. A fresh scent with tons of warmth. Does that make any sense? I hope it does. The freshness here is not the Northern European pine tree sort, it evokes the Mediterranean, sun burnt soil and dry, resinous shrubs. There is something raw and untamed about it but it's never harsh. For the rose note you have to wait a while and when it arrives it's faint and a mere hint. Carticasi is a beautiful fragrance but it needs some sun on the skin, so I will come back to it in summer. Or even better, take it with me on a journey to Corsica (hint, hint, hint.) 

How and where to wear:

On a ferry to Corsica, sprayed on hair that gets swept in the warm wind

La Corse image copyright Astérix en Corse by Hachette Livre, Paris

Perfumes in the friend zone: Liz Earle Botanical Essence No.15

Do you have a beauty regime? Quite a silly expression, I know. But since I have one, I actually feel better in and with my skin and it shows too. I think. Before I came across Liz Earle's skin care products and her hot cloth cleansing method in particular, I was a complete slattern in terms of make up removal. Not that I used much anyway, but the little I did put on stayed on, over night, clogging up pores, giving me panda eyes and blotchy cheeks. Very bad habit. I have actually forgotten how I came across LE, I guess it must have been Sali Hughes writing about it in the Guardian, but since then I have not not washed off my make up in the evening once. Even when drunk. With one of my online orders I got a sample of her fragrances, Liz Earle Botanical Essence No.15. I sort of dismissed it, thinking that if I had never heard of any of the 14 others before, it was probably OK to give this one a miss too. Fast forward a few months and now seriously back into perfume after a long pause, I one day emptied the washing machine and found the very same little perfume sample vial stuck in the rubber sealant around the door. No idea how it had ended up there, but it must have been through at least one circle in the machine, if not more. 

And this time I did try it. 

My visual interpretation of Liz Earle Botanical Essence No.15

It would be in accordance with my little entry story for the perfume to smell soapy and clean, but that's actually not the case. And of course, the No. 15 in the name doesn't stand for the 15th effort in fragrance making either, but describes its 15 main botanical ingredients.

It's a spicy and fresh start, middle and finish. It stays exactly like is is from the very first sniff. Cinnamon, pink pepper, a bit rose, a bit wood, nicely combined and with some good staying power. I am a big fan of spicy roses so I definitely like this one a lot and it ticks all my boxes but it doesn't manage to wow me. May be it's the linear structure, the complete lack of surprise due its unchanging nature,  but the tiny little bit that makes us falling in love with a perfume is missing. It will stay firmly in the friend zone. Sorry, Liz.

How and where to wear:

A good companion for a great night out, which may or may not include some snogging, just don't forget to take off your make up afterwards!

Portrait of a Lady, best in Bloom

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

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

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

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

How and where to wear:

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

Rose image via flickr by aling_, some rights reserved

L'Ombre dans L'Eau, substantial south facing garden with mature shrubs

If you ask people who neither know nor care much about perfume to describe a scent you will undoubtedly hear " like flowers...like a garden." a lot, so I am very reluctant to use this image myself. 

But I will have to, because this is exactly what Dyptique's L'Ombre dans L'Eau reminds me of. Launched in 1983 by the brand that can be described as one of the first niche perfume houses, it's probably their second best known fragrance after the fig based Philosykos. I first came across it during a stroll in the aisles of Space NK and was instantly smitten. It had been in the early days of spring and the weather so abysmal that I had given up on the idea of buying and potting tomato and flower seeds for the garden and wasn't really caring much how the garden would look like in the coming summer. And suddenly I was transported to a garden which I had visited the year before and loved : The garden at the Red House in Bexleyheath, created and owned by William Morris. 

My visual interpretation of L'Ombre dans L'Eau by Dyptique

The L'Ombre dans L'Eau garden is not the exotic type. There are no orchids, no shangri las, no enchantment, no fairies, no tropical birds. It's a garden where you dig the soil, bury the tulip bulbs, water the tomatoes, prune the hedges, harvest the veggies, dead head the petunias and sit under the apple trees with a book and a glass of wine.

If this doesn't sound appealing then you probably don't have a garden. I do most of these things in my little London back garden, and I love that this fragrance reminds me of them.   

It has leafy, green notes aplenty and there is a good splash of earth as well. And of course it has the roses. What would a garden be without a rose? It's the most intimate and secret of all my perfumes, I love to wear it when no one is around. This is helped by the fact that I own the little roll on perfume oil, there is no spraying and no wafting. I obviously lose the top notes but I don't mind. 

A garden can be home to an astonishing array of colours, but for the postcard of this scent I stick to the greens and some red/pink tones, and the pattern is inspired by William Morris textiles, albeit in a very abstract way. Go visit the Red House in Bexleyheath in late summer, buy a book and sit under the apple trees.

How and where to wear:
First date, the Arts and Craft section in the Victoria and Albert museum, 
Liberty print scarf