Puredistance, the sketchbook

It's not often that I focus on an entire collection for my coloured reviews. The last time I did, the range - Oriza LeGrand- was nicely "ueberschaubar" as we say in German. So many perfume houses launch new bottles at frightening speed these days, making it difficult to keep track, and impossible to find the brand's fragrant identity. 4, 5, 6 - these are good numbers for a small niche brand, at least  in my view.

Another reason for my reluctance to do combined posts is that the designer pedant in me doesn't feel comfortable with creating a blog post with 4 or 5 images without a common theme or feel to them. That would just look higgledy-piggledy. Thankfully some brands do believe in less is more, and when I received a lovely and generous sample set from Puredistance last Christmas I knew I wanted to find a way to cover the entire range in one post. 

There are currently 6 fragrances in the range, all in high pure perfume concentration, a luxurious  indulgence with the price point to match. Created by different perfumers, they nonetheless share a radiant elegance. I'm not attempting to write in depth reviews for all of the scents, but to give a sketchbook-like impression. Stepping away from my usual digital approach and playing around with watercolours seemed like the right way to achieve that.

Once I was satisfied that I had found the right colours for each perfume I used the cropping tool of the past - 2 L-shaped pieces of cardboard- to find the best possible details before finalising the images with the help of various digital filters. 

 

My impressions of the perfumes in order of their release dates:

I

Puredistance I

A green and fresh floral with a backbone. There is lot going on here: citrus, mimosa, rose, magnolia, but  blended to abstraction. An idealised bouquet, created to enhance whoever is wearing it. A very elegant, slightly aloof scent, that's never overpowering but strong in attitude. It's advertised as for women, but I think its a great floral for a man. The right type of men. As for myself : yes, I would happily wear it, although it's a bit out of my comfort zone.

M

Puredistance M

Hmm...this is spicy, warm and edible. Opens classically with a splash of citrus, but a hint of spice and touch of rose are coming along already. Cinnamon, coriander and cumin (not too sweaty, no fear) give way to patchouli and turn into a warm worn out leather. Unsurprisingly, I like this a lot. For a spicy oriental leather it also stays remarkably cool. I wouldn't say understated - it's pretty rich - but its opulence comes without a hint of bling and is not overpowering or cloying. Lovely.

Antonia

Puredistance Antonia

A lot of green. This, in combination with white flowers and rose, makes it a very difficult experience for me. I don't mind indolic scents, but need them to be on the warm, animalic side. Combined here with a metallic freshness from the greens it gives me an immediate headache. Sorry, Antonia, you are not made for me and I can't do you any justice, so let's move on to...

Opardu

Puredistance Opardu

Powder floral with a punch. Now that I can understand better. Lilac or hyacinth paired with white flowers. While the jasmine and tuberose are not exactly dirty here (far from it), it's nonetheless a sensual fragrance, if you give it the time to get there. Opardu has undeniably a strong old fashioned vibe in a No sex before marriage sort of way and while I admire the quality of the perfume, I'm not loving it. I'm ultimately not prim and proper enough to wear it and would feel like a fraud if I did. 

Black

Puredistance Black

I had covered Black in more depth here, but of course it will also play it's part in these colour sketches. An astonishing number of perfumes are called Black, or Black this-and-that, and more often then not they contain not even a whiff of darkness. Black by Puredistance definitely deserves its name, and like I described in my original post, the black serves as a layer of mystery to hide what's really underneath and within. I detect sour cherries and booze with a hint of bitter chocolate. A whiskey based cocktail of very adult fruitiness- indulgent and intoxicating. Love it.

White

Puredistance White

I remember when I got a sample of this about a year ago and thought:"Oh, no, a white. That's going to be either an ultra clean musk thing, or a tuberose bomb." Fortunately it is neither. What it is instead should still be, in theory, totally not up my street, and yet... it is. It seems I have found a clean rose floral that I can enjoy, certainly helped by accompanying notes of tonka bean, orris and sandalwood. Very radiant and sparkling, super feminine, white, red, gold and purple. If it was an outfit, it would be a casual silk blouse in creamy white over a pair of white Marlene Dietrich trousers. A timeless classic, whether you're barefoot, in trainers, or sporting your 10 inch stilettos. Beautiful.

So these were my sketch like impressions of the perfumes Puredistance currently has in its range. All the scents - even my dislike Antonia - are very sophisticated and of high end quality. Not necessarily pushing the boat out in terms of innovation, but if you make things that well, you can afford not to care much for the new and the trendy. My personal favourites are Black and M, with White on a surprise 3rd rank. The idea to use watercolour to illustrate the fragrances was initially based on my wish to create sketch-like first impressions, but the longer I worked on this post the more I realised that the art of watercolour and Puredistance's approach to perfumery have a few things in common: 

Lightness of touch and clarity 

Whiter than white: Pure eVe by The Different Company

This Pure eVe (pretentious spelling alert!) by The Different Company was originally released as Pure Virgin, a name that probably only Etat libre d'Orange would be able to get away with. They'd make it smell anything but virginal, of course. The Different Company on the other hand, created an extraordinary washing detergent. And I mean that in the nicest possible way. 

Baby powder, whitest musk, a hint of something floral and an almondy aftertaste. This perfume won't allow dirty thoughts, never mind acts but it is certainly very suitable as a cover up. The perfect olfactory camouflage for the urban sinner. Innocence in a bottle. Like most things innocent, it's pretty, but also pretty boring and linear. Purity is an unforgiving concept that doesn't really allow for change and ambiguity. Pure eVe has excellent staying power but whether that's a good or a bad thing is debatable. It is not something I'd like to wear, not even occasionally, but if you like to smell squeaky clean and soft, then this is the scent for you. 

Pure Eve

Going back to the name change I mentioned, I would love to hear the reason. I assume it's something copyright related, but the switch from Virgin to Eve is an interesting one. Isn't Eve the ultimate sinner? The seductress responsible for our rather abrupt dismissal from paradise? May be she should have worn this fragrance...

How and where to wear:

Might come in handy when you're anything But innocent...

A strange Virgin and her signature perfume

I cannot remember where and when I first met her, this strange Virgin with child surrounded by angels, but I do come across her in different scenarios, often entirely unexpected. The last time I saw her, as part of an installation on screen and not in person as she had been on loan to Madrid, was at the Dries van Noten Inspirations exhibition in Paris (which I hereby also highly recommend). She has always been a muse to artists and designers  and the late Alexander McQueen used her as an inspiration for his last, unfinished, collection.  It's not surprising, just look at her:

Jean Fouquet, Virgin and child surrounded by angels, around 1452, image via wikipedia

Painted by the French artist Jean Fouquet in the 1450's, it is a piece of art that most people describe as surprisingly modern and of disturbing beauty. Her alien paleness, emphasized by the high hairline, is part of the beauty ideal of the time and even the unnatural breasts, poking out under her armpits like perfectly shaped marble balls, can be seen in many virgin and child paintings. It's the colour and texture composition that I find so striking, and if you will, modern about this Madonna. Her white figure is set against a group of angels in red and blue, arranged in a strange Tessellation style pattern reminding of H.W.Escher. Mastering the art of perspective was still a bit hit and miss in the early Renaissance, but this doesn't look like it was done due to lack of skill, it's a very deliberate effect. Despite them forming a background pattern, the chubby little angels are very three dimensional, especially the red ones.  And, ever so slightly disturbing: they are covered in a glossy texture that is not dissimilar to latex. In contrast to the naughty cherubim the virgin has almost no real texture, Fouquet didn't render her skin very differently from the folds of her cape, making her appear like an alabaster statue in her own painting, highlighting her otherworldly-ness. A lot of the paintings startling allure is probably due to the mixture of realistic (baby Jesus and the virgin's face) and iconic (her figure and costume) elements and it's certainly a great example of a dualism in style in early Northern Renaissance art. Also not untypical for the time, she is depicted as a Queen more than a  mother and art historians are now pretty certain that Fouquet used Agnes Sorel, favourite mistress of King Charles VII of France as his inspiration and model. Being regarded as the most beautiful woman of her time, he certainly did her honour. 

And because I love the painting and the myth that surrounds her I now try to find a perfume that best captures this 15th century virginal pop art queen. My first idea is Alexander McQueen's violet number MyQueen,  for the connection mentioned above. It has the edge I'm looking for and a sharp hairspray weirdness at some point during the wear, but it's altogether a bit too one dimensional. I went back to the Relique d'Amour from Oriza and a few other incense-strong perfumes  to see if that would work for her, but they either lacked the modern/alien aspect I was looking for or were too   masculine. Serge Lutens' La Vierge en Fer, an interesting Lily, is, while certainly more modern, too sweet and innocent. It's interesting how, when searching for a specific scent, the name, the packaging, the whole brand identity suddenly becomes such an integral part of it. This virgin's perfume has to be daring, a bit alien, cold but sensual and definitely modern, futuristic even.  A little bit sweetness is fine and incense and lilies would be perfect. And the brand has to be daring too. Bold. And preferably French. Don't ask me why, it just has. 

Perfume brands don't get much bolder than Etat libre d'Orange, and even their logo goes terribly well with my chosen artwork. But I'm not all that familiar with their scents apart from a few exceptions, and was also in need of some more ideas. It was my perfume friend Nick who helped me out here. I gave him a few hints about the nature of the fragrance I was looking for and he made two suggestions: Comme des Garcons 2011 EdP, to which I will come back later,  and for the land of Orange he named Charogne. 

Charogne had featured in a "skanky scents" Perfume Lovers London event held by the very same Nick not too long ago, and I remember liking it a lot. On the right side of wearable, with some weird sensual undertones, a bit rubbery. When I test it now in connection with the artwork seeks perfume quest it behaves even better than expected. A strong lily, jasmine accord is combined with a leather/rubber note, incense and a lot of creamy and not overly sweet vanilla. I can for the life of me not see why anyone would find this offensive. It's daring, I admit, but a lot of the provocation comes from the name. And even that doesn't hold when you look into the inspiration for it:

 Beaudelaire's poem Une Charogne 

The perfume evokes the beauty of decay. And when you see flowers in their very last stages before they wilt and wither away completely, you understand the intent. However, as much as I love the perfume - particularly how  the lily is partnered with the rubber  - it's not quite right for the virgin. It embraces and celebrates the cycle of life and death, and in doing so it's all too human and grounded to our bodily ways. 

So I go back to Nick's first choice, the Comme des Garcons 2011. The one in the wonky, melted pear shaped bottle that won't stand up. And at first sniff I know that this is it. This is the scent that the painting should give off, the virgin's signature perfume.
Ingredient lists can be very boring reads, but this one certainly isn't: Industrial glue and brown scotch tape, aldehydes, saffron, styrax, lilac and rubber? I assume there is also a long list of fluffy and nice smelling things which didn't make it into the press material because they are just...well, boring, but there has to be a reason why this actually smells so great. I get a lot of aldehydes and yes, they are paired with an industrial note I can't really identify, but then comes a spicy freshness and the soft lilac. It has all the elements that I wanted for the Virgin, it's sharp, cold, sweet, alien, futuristic, plasticky, intriguing and intoxicating. And, most importantly, it defines beauty  in an unfashionable and unconventional way. 

Where to see:

You can visit The Virgin surrounded by angels at the Koninklijk Museum voor Schone Kunsten in Antwerp

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

Perfume for an exhibition

Perfume is obviously something that is on my mind quite often and even more so since I have started the blog. There are moments when I find a connection to perfume, either a specific one or fragrances in general and I always cherish those findings because they help me understand perfumes better and in a new way. It's particularly enjoyable if I can connect things I really love and make them more "mine".

The last time this happened was a real special moment and that's why I want to share it here. 

I went to see an exhibition at Tate Modern and fell in love with the work on display, the woman behind it and that moment of connection I described earlier. Mira Schendel was a Swiss born jewish refugee who settled in Brazil after the Second World War. She had studied art and philosophy in her youth but was forced to leave Milan university after Mussolini stripped Jews of their Italian citizenship. 

Being too poor to afford "proper" art materials she sketched on cardboard, used crayons and in her own words:"painted like crazy." The early paintings are soft and remarkably calming abstracts and still lifes in muted colours, influenced by Klee, Murandi and other European painters. In the 60's her art career takes off with a solo exhibitions in London and Brazil and she starts drawing on rice paper which will become her medium of choice. She is inspired by philosophy, language and religion and often uses words, typography and fragments of texts in a variety of languages. The rice paper, so fragile and fleeting, is not just a medium but also the message. "The back of transparency lies in front of you," the artist wrote, "and the 'other world' turns out to be this one." 

Her work is pure and playful, with a very Zen like quality and when I was walking around the exhibition I was completely mesmerised. I sometimes regret that I'm not as enthusiastic about art as I used to be, too often I find myself thinking: "Yeah, great, but seen it before..." May be that comes with age, but this time I really was thrilled and felt this connection that makes suddenly everything right and glowing and a bit magical. I'm not an art theorist, I can't really describe an ism and the whys and why nots, but I do know when I see something truly special. 

And at some point I realised that the fragile otherworldlyness of her rice paper works reminded me of perfume. First, of perfume as a medium, fleeting but yet evocative, not really there but present...invisible but sensual. And then I entered the room of her installation called "Still Waves of Probability" and it hit me that Lumiere Blanche, by Olfactive Studio was the perfume I was thinking of while spending time with Mira Schendel's art. It's not just the name which makes this a suitable olfactory connection, but the transparency and the pureness. LB is an homage to light with a strength that makes you squint for a second and although it's a warming and comforting fragrance it's primary aspect is cool. Does that make sense? Probably not, but for me it really does oscillate between warm and cool in an astonishing way. It's also manages to be ethereal without any faux  pretension. I wish I had worn it that day.

 

Mira Schendel Still Waves of Probability

Images via TateModern and wikipaintings. 

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

4711, the gift that kept on giving

The run up to Christmas: the busiest time of the year for the fragrance industry. What exactly is it that makes us reaching for nice smelling things as presents for loved ones and not so loved ones in equal and enormous quantities? Is it the lack of fragrant flowers and plants during the winter? (works only in the Northern hemisphere...) Are perfumes and soaps just conveniently universal and independent of tricky matters like clothes sizes? Is it the way the bottles and boxes look luxurious and presentable? Can it be that many perfume get bought simply because they are usually located at the ground floor of massive department stores, close to the entrance, making it easy to get in, buy and get out in less than 5 minutes? Perfumes certainly make very good last minute presents, and I did read in an article not long ago that it's not uncommon for panic stricken husbands to buy entire perfume ranges because they have forgotten the name of their wives' favourite perfume. In these cases I wish that the wive wears a Roja Dove or Bond No.9 to make that lack of attention and respect at least painfully expensive. I wonder what the women who get gifted in that way do with the unwanted scents. Ebay? The Tory party's xmas raffle?

I certainly know what happened to Undesirables in our family. They went into the Christmas tombola held by my parent's local choir. Every year at the beginning of December choir members and local shopkeepers would drop packages and gift vouchers at our house. My mum would then pack them up nicely and sometimes make gift bundles if the objects in question were just too embarrassingly cheap. For that reason we had a very good idea of what horrors were lurking behind the shimmery paper and lovely ribbons when all the boxes were laid out at the table reading for the new owners with the lucky numbers. It was a 4711 gift set that we aptly named the Wanderpokal, because it got donated again and again and again, over years and years without exception. We knew it was the always the same one because of a characteristic scratch mark on the box. 

In my youth 4711 Eau de Cologne was a regarded as a traditional cheap smelling scent that could be found in every German household, collecting dust on the bathroom shelf. For me it never registered as a fragrance that should and could be worn, more like a medicinal all round "thing" that grandmothers would spray on a handkerchief and dab on their temples when they felt a bit faint and nauseous. Why that vile smelling stuff would be any good in these instances I never understood. But some things , like spinach, just need time to get appreciated.

My interpretation of 4711 Eau de Cologne

Fast forward some 20 odd years, the house of 4711 had undergone a miraculous transformation. Like other weird and old fashioned icons of Germanity, the herb liqueur Jaegermeister for example, the brand had started to regain a certain cult status and sales had started to rise accordingly. It was then that I took my first unbiased sniff. And surprise, surprise, I actually liked it. The freshness was not as medicinal as I remembered and all in all it was nicely balanced and totally wearable. An orange, bergamot and lemon layer over a floral, and slightly woody base. It's not only not offensive, it actually does give you a wake me up moment, so my grandmothers had a point with their fragrant handkerchiefs. It's also a good dupe for Tom Ford's Neroli Portofino. 

I smell clean and proper when I wear it and that's usually not something I aim for when reaching for a perfume, but there are moments when this scent is just right. It's a bit like a watercolour, sparkly and transparent, but with a solid geometrical structure. I haven't tried to layer it with something else and have the feeling that might go horribly wrong, but if any of you have done so with success, let me know. These days a 4711 gift set would not get re-wrapped and thrown into the next tombola. I'd rather keep it for myself.

How and where to wear:

Walk the walk of shame with an air of innocence (but still have that shower...)