Scents of Summer (Final Part, Istanbul)

Being deliriously in love with spices, smells, exotic flavors and the hustle-and-bustle of the market, it came as no surprise that I fell in love with Istanbul’s Spice Bazaar. Located in the central Eminonu district, it is known as Misir Carsisi (Egyptian Bazaar), due to the fact that most of the spices sold there in the past were imported from Egypt. The bazaar is housed in a beautiful domed building featuring three grand entranceways. Inside, a plethora of small, vaulted shops line both sides of each crowded walkway, their vibrantly colored, densely displayed wares creating a spectacular explosion of color for the eyes to feast upon. But it is not just the eyes that feast; truly, for a lover of scents the first step inside Misir Carsisi is like stepping into a heavenly world of aromas so pervasive in the air around you that it almost feels as though you’re bathed in them. So beautiful is the experience, that I returned there daily during my visit just to revel in the atmosphere. It became my happy place.

The only way to try and approximate a description of what this place smells like, is to give you an idea of what is sold there, and keep in mind that almost every shop (with only few exceptions) generally sells the same type of things. Spices are of course the most commonly sold good, and what immediately catches the eye. The variety is astounding: curries, colorful mounds of different peppercorns, star-anis, different sorts of sesame, saffron from all corners of the world (Spanish, Iranian, Indian, Turkish, Greek, Moroccan….), salep powder, chilies and cardamoms, cumin and mint, garam masala, oregano, basil, peppermint, cinnamon and clove and so, so much more than I could ever imagine or remember, including various fabulous mixes to perfectly spice any kind of dish. Shredded, sliced and diced vegetables are sold by the kilo from large sacks, a perfect solution as a base for soups and casseroles. Aphrodisiacs of questionable effect are sold everywhere, either alone with some sort of reference to Viagra (I can’t read Turkish, but I’d presume they’re being advertised as a natural Viagra) or in tea-blends meant to be used by couples, often cheekily labeled as Love Tea, an extremely pungent mixture whose scent will somehow penetrate through airtight containers and contaminate everything else you are carrying with you. Baskets are filled with all manner of dried fruit, from the more traditional figs, dates, bananas, apricots and carobs to the more exotic kiwis, mangos, pineapples and papayas. Berries are not missing from the mix of course, and since I find them a perfect snack when those sugar cravings hit, I left with bags of dried mulberries, cranberries, cherries and strawberries. Yum! The tea lover should feel right at home at Misir Carsisi as there are a myriad varieties and blends to explore. While you probably won’t find Pu-ehr or Baozhong tea here, forget about being a purist and delve in the magical world of fabulously flavored Turkish teas: Lemon, Orange, Jasmine, flower-bud, apple, berry, fruit and blossom mixes… the list goes on and on. My favorite (from the ones I tried) was the apple tea, a lovely, tangy, sweet-and-sour tea that is simply delightful. Are you getting a waft of the lovely bazaar aromas yet? But wait, there’s more! Spicy and fruity yes, but also candied and sugary, because the bazaar is also filled with traditional Turkish confections! There are rows upon rows and heaps upon heaps of all kinds of Turkish delight, big or tiny all dusted with the finest of powdered sugar and starch. And stranger sweets yet: rows of beautifully prepared rolls, made of something like melted marshmallow which is paper thin and then rolled around delights such as nuts, chocolate, coffee, coconut or mixes of the above. They produce a heavenly, sweet, roasted aroma and taste even better, soft, fluffy and slightly warm when fresh. Then there are these enormous, mound-shaped sweets made from any sort of sticky sweet (dried fruit syrup and pulp, nugat, honey etc) and filled with nuts. These are made in large buckets (from which they take their round, mound-like shape) and taste absolutely delicious! Nuts and seeds are also being sold everywhere, as are some slightly out-of-place delicacies such as caviar and pastirma (a very pungent, air-dried meat, mostly made of either camel meat or beef which is covered in an almost jelly-like film of cumin, garlic, fennel and hot red paprika). Try to imagine all of these smells combining together and there you’ll have it, the scent of Misir Carsisi, the pungent with the soft and fluffy smelling, the sweet with the sour, the spicy with the flowery, the candied with the fruity… Pure, absolute bliss. And if you, like me, love busy, colorful places where humanity congregates, haggles, shouts, negotiates, laughs, smiles and whistles, this will probably become your happy place too when you visit.


As enticing as the atmosphere as well as the smells, sights and sounds themselves of the Misir Carsisi might be, it holds in fact, an even bigger lure to make it a definite must-see for the perfume lover. The heart of the Spice Bazaar holds a precious gem: the Arifoglu perfume shop and its perfumer, Orhan. Arifoglu sells an incredible variety of perfume oils, absolutes and tinctures as well as a number of raw materials, solid waxes and powders. Can I just say Perfume-Lover’s Heaven? There are two Arifoglu shops inside Misir Carsisi, but the one closest to the Golden Horn entrance, where Orhan works, is the one that you really should visit as it has the most variety and of course, because it has… Orhan! If you wish to see as many of the raw materials as possible and spend some time with the oils and perfumes as well, be prepared to spend several hours here and hope that it’s not a very busy day. This place is truly amazing. It is also good to know beforehand that Arifoglu sells both natural and synthetic products. And yes, this is a Turkish market, so be prepared for the fact that you cannot come right out and ask “Is this synthetic” much in the same way that you cannot ask “Is this bag a real YSL or a fake?” inside the Kapalicarsi (Not that there are any real YSL bags in Kapalicarsi, just to clear things up!). It is simply not done and all you’ll achieve is to get people mad at you. How to tread these waters? What is good Bazaar etiquette? First of all, be an expert. That is, know beforehand how something smells and looks like if you don’t want to get caught out. Believe me, there are no merchants in the world that are better than the Turks, and their expert eye will know whether you know. I know this is hard (or even impossible), especially when it comes to rare materials such as musks, ambergris etc. you might not have had the chance to smell, but really, it is the only good way. Second, spend time there and show that your interest is serious and that you respect the staff’s expertise. Third, well, be liked by the staff. If you manage to get them to know you and like you, you might gain access to things that otherwise remain hidden behind doors, drawers or cupboards. Again, do not ask for any hidden, better stuff, but gently, yet confidently hint at the fact that you are looking for that which is a little more special. I am sorry if all this sounds a little bit mystifying and/or irritating, but it is simply the way it works. Now on to the treasures!

Just about every single-note oil you might wish to possess either to wear on its own or to use in your personal blends and layering experiments can be found here: Vanilla, Melissa, Myrrh, Saffron, Hay, Olibanum, various musks and a rainbow of roses from Istanbuli to Damaskus, as well as various other flowers and woods, amber mixes and ready-made blends, and beautifully perfumed massage oils. I’ll stop here, because it would be impossible to list every beautiful, gorgeous-smelling product Arifoglu sells. All I’ll say is that the musks and musk blends that this shop sells are astoundingly beautiful. Take-my-breath-away kind of beautiful. There are also gorgeous ready-made blends, often given names that might lead you to think they are dupes, while they are actually beautiful, original perfumes in their own right. An example would be Pleasures, a dusky, husky, fruity-floral blend on a base of musk and powder, which aside from having the exact same name as Este Lauder’s best-seller, bears it no other resemblance at all. Aside from the obvious attraction of the perfumes, one should definitely visit Arifoglu in order to have a personal perfume made just for them by the talented Orhan, who mixes absolutely gorgeous, one of a kind blends. Orhan, sweet, gentle, intuitive, patient, talented, and full of love, respect and passion for perfume is by himself a good-enough reason to visit Istanbul. What perfume lover doesn’t dream to have a scent made just for them? Based on your likes and dislikes and through trial of various blends he creates, together you can slowly approximate the perfect personal blend - Parfum sur Mesure, for a price that won't break the bank. Just as pleasurable is of course giving Orhan full freedom to create for you what he thinks would suit your personality (if you’ve had the time to get better acquainted). He did this for me on my last day, and the result is a beautiful perfume I treasure. Orhan will also blend a perfume based on specification, that is, with ingredients chosen by you. I created such a perfume for a close friend, and it gave me the chance to not only ‘play perfumer’ for a day, but also to buy a gift that is not only truly unique, but also truly from me.


Images: The first image of one of the Spice Bazaar's shops was sourced from Wikipedia. The rest is from the author's own collection.

Scents of Summer (Part 2, Istanbul)

Views of lakes, rivers, glimpses of coast and endless fields of light-worshipping sunflowers helped pass the time pleasantly as we made our way with the car through Northern Greece all the way to the Turkish border, but as dusk fell, the only way to stave off boredom seemed to be sleep. A few hours later I woke up, slightly startled by the vague yet persistent noises all around me. A glance at my watch and then a glance around me: Istanbul. The city was teeming with life and the streets were a pandemonium of blearing horns and cars whose drivers seemed to be following a single rule: Follow no rule at all. Presiding majestically over this overruling ataxia and peering down at us just as we were peering up at them, the rightful proprietors of this city - its buildings. The new next to the old, the Byzantine next the Ottoman, the Muslim next to the Christian, the romantic next to the strikingly modern, the marvelously preserved next to the dilapidated, the colorful next to the ashen. Never have I seen such beautiful madness. I knew then already, from that first moment I opened my sleepy eyes, that if Istanbul is one of those cities that separate people between those that love it and those that hate it, I belonged firmly in the love it camp.

Had this been a travel-blog, my weeklong stay in Istanbul would have provided material for several entries, so rich an experience this strikingly beautiful, indefinitely interesting city offers to travelers. However, this being a perfume blog I find myself struggling to parse everything that makes Istanbul what it is into an entry about the city’s scents, of which believe me, it has plentiful. I might as well start with the most obvious: The city smells like corn. That’s right, corn! Every single corner has a vendor offering both grilled and boiled corn-on-the-cob, ready to feed the city’s inexplicable, insatiable hunger for the cereal grain. Everyone seems to be constantly eating it while walking around and by the end of the day trashcans are overflowing with the gnawed-clean leftovers. Every few steps one is inexorably greeted with the sweet smell of corn. Munching on one while on the go makes one practically a native, no matter how blonde or blue-eyed: I was constantly greeted by ushers in Turkish the one time I decided to try one for myself.

This corn obsession might be the most bizarre and by far the most ubiquitous (I am really not exaggerating!) but there are other food-and-drink smells aplenty to tempt the nose of the hungry Istanbul explorer. The best place to find them all in one place is Istiklal Avenue, a wide, long pedestrian avenue that sums up the beautiful chaos that exists in this grand city in the best possible manner. Always busy (literally millions of people walk its length every single day), filled with street performers, vendors, boutiques, restaurants and all manner of shops, Istiklal Avenue offers the possibility to taste and smell countless unique Turkish flavors. It might not all be pleasant - we found ourselves almost heaving when we approached a popular rotisserie that specializes in goat and lamb dishes, but it is certainly interesting. A sweet, milky, vanillic smell surrounds Dondurma (chewy, goat milk ice-cream) vendors as they entertain passersby with acrobatics involving large springy masses of ice-cream flying in the air before returning to the frozen vats for some more churning. That very smell mingles with the heavy smell of spit-roasted meat a few steps down the road and that in turn with the smell of mussels drenched in fresh lemon juice further ahead.

By far the most wonderful, exotic smell you’ll encounter here comes from the wandering salep vendors. I was already familiar with salep since it is a beverage you can easily find in Thessaloniki as well during the winter, but since it is a very typically Turkish drink, I find it deserves mention in this entry. Salep is a thick, fortifying beverage which is served hot and is made of powdered orchid bulbs of certain species, milk, rose water, crushed walnuts and various spices, most notably cinnamon. I personally do not enjoy actually drinking it since the texture is most definitely an acquired taste (it is rather mucous), but whenever I happen upon a salep vendor I stop and linger nearby to revel in its marvelous, spicy scent. Do try this at least once if you travel to Turkey as it is a very unique experience. I mean, how often do you get to drink something made of orchid powder?!

Sometimes particularly delicious smells might prove to be something you’d rather not actually eat. Case in point: while walking down Istiklal Avenue one night, we decided to turn into a particularly busy side street, lured in by the sights and sounds of plentiful eating, drinking, laughing, haggling and general merrymaking. The air was filled with this incredibly delicious, spiced, strong smell of something vaguely meaty-smelling. When we had pushed through the crowd enough to get a glimpse of the lined vendors, we saw that they were preparing sandwiches made of tiny pieces of what looked like soft meat as fast as they could, in order to feed the ravenous throng which was gobbling it all up as if there was no tomorrow. “Alright” I thought, “I’ll try one”. Thankfully, as I was about to order, some instinct prompted me to ask what kind of meat my delicious-looking sandwich was being filled with. The vendor looked at me in surprise: “Intestines!” I took another look at the heap of tiny, soft pieces which only a moment ago had looked (and smelled) so appetizing and of course, saw it too. Intestines. Diced intestines. I retreated as fast as I could, which was not all that hard since the next customer in line was already eagerly ordering. Intestines. My boyfriend laughed and laughed, especially when I told him that my nose was not entirely dissuaded by the knowledge but instead kept finding the scent delicious. Who knew my nose could have such strange tastes?

Join me again on Wednesday for the final part of Scents of Summer when we will visit Istanbul’s spice market, talk about fabulous perfume oils and visit with a perfume artisan who creates gorgeous, unique personal blends.

Images: Istanbul through the window by Sakis Alexiou, Corn vendor via Flickr by Wrote, Dondurma vendor via Wikipedia, Salep fountain via www.atamanhotel.com

Scents of Summer (Part 1, Mykonos)

Sometimes it’s not just scents that create powerful feelings of longing, but sounds as well. The closer the day of my vacation came, the more I missed the sound of cicadas, cicadas singing in the noonday fever of the Greek summer with nary another sound around, for everyone takes refuge from the heat either at seaside or inside when the sun burns brightest, hottest. By the time I was ready to leave Holland, memories of the deafening, blissful song were interwoven with everything Greece is and my craving had become almost unbearable. But there are no cicadas in Mykonos, just the sound of wind and happiness, composed by the collective sounds of the sea, the cheerful voices, the music.

Cicadas need groves, woods to thrive and there aren’t any of those on the dry, magical landscapes of this little Cycladian island. The only plant that seems to grow in almost incontrollable abundance is the Prickly Pear cactus, otherwise known as the Indian Fig, whole fields of which paint a beautiful picture as their prickly paddles are heavily covered with fruit which blushes first bright orange, then red as it’s caressed by the sun’s golden, fiery fingers. Oh, how aromatic Mykonos would be were these fruiting cacti to smell as good as they look! But of course, they don’t. In fact, they smell like nothing at all.

Of course, that doesn’t mean there aren’t any opportunities to be led by the nose. Far from it in fact: Prickly pears are not the only fruiting plants on the island. There are the glorious fig trees! Take a walk and soon one will call out to you with its unmistakable scented invitation. Before the tree is even in sight, you’ll smell it: unbelievably green, earthy, lactonic, it’s somewhere near! The smell never fails to light up an exclamation mark in my mind: “Fig Tree!” and like a treasure hunter, off I go, literally led by the nose. Find it, pick it, don’t even bother to wash it, just blissfully devour. Get punished with ridiculously sticky fingers if you’re too greedy and pick any that are yet unripe. Laugh about it. And stay a while under its shade, marveling in this God-sent scent. For surely, the smell of the fig tree has to be the work of some divine being? No, no other explanation for such glory. Was it really a humble apple that caused the original sin? Are we sure it wasn’t the fig?

Forget about the airco and crack the window open in the car; On this dry, arid island, the smell of the sea creeps up the hills just as you are climbing down, putting a smile on your face before she even shows her crystal clear smile. First comes her scent, delicious and salty, humid, like a wet kiss in the midst of the dry air. Then comes her sound, the softly lapping waves, and maybe - depending on if it’s a popular beach you’ve chosen - the sound of laughter, people and beachy music. When finally there, ask yourself: Is there any scent on earth that smells as exuberant and at the same time as devoid of any trace of melancholy than the combination of sea water, salty skin, burning sand and sunscreen? Even if there is… I couldn’t possibly come up with it now, when I’m missing it so much. It might not make my heart sing, but it definitely makes me dream.

Sitting down to eat too, offers plenty opportunities to experience beautiful olfactory delights, different depending on the time of day. Eating breakfast at one of the dozens of cafes found at Gialos (the beachside of the main town) will fill your nose with the scent of roasting Greek coffee. If you can stand the novelty of its gritty texture, do like the Greeks and order one for yourself. At lunchtime, the air will be filled with the scent of ouzo; marvel at how beautifully its strong aniseed scent marries with the scent of the sea - it’s like they were meant for each other. The evening air might be most strongly scented with people and their perfume, but sitting down to eat will for sure treat you not only to the scent of beautifully prepared food, but also to the scent of Mastiha (Chios Mastic, aka Chios Tears) for every restaurant in town seems to have taken up the habit of offering a glass of Mastiha Liquer to all diners for free at the end of every meal. This most beautiful of resins is aromatic, resinous, delightfully sweet in a subtle way and most importantly, truly unique. There simply is no other scent that is comparable to it. If you’re lucky, you might even be treated to Mastiha ice-cream, a real delight, especially when eaten together with kantaifi, an oriental delicacy made of clove and cinnamon spiced walnuts wrapped in angel hair and covered in thin, delicate syrup. Even though mastic trees are native to the whole of Mediterranean and grow in many different places, bizarrely, only those on the Greek island of Chios actually produce the resin, which is consequently rare and valuable. Tasting and smelling this beautiful product is truly a unique Greek experience.

But what if you’re after actual perfume? Mykonos will not disappoint there either. It might be daunting to visit all of the countless clothes and accessories boutiques, but if you’re determined to find niche perfumes, it is definitely the way to go since there simply isn’t a place where you can find many niche brands assembled together. Instead, it is the clothes and accessories boutiques that have adopted a brand or two of choice. Eccentric Molecules, Anick Goutal (yes, including the full range of Les Orientalistes), Comme des Garçons and many others are hidden, waiting to be discovered. A visit to the pharmacies will pay off as well, since that’s where you’ll come across hard-to-find Greek perfumes, such as the full range of Apivita (definitely do try Spice and Earth, they are both lovely) and Korres (love the bath & body products, not so hot about the perfumes in this case). A great discovery I made in one of the town’s three pharmacies was the Corine de Farme line of fragrances (Jasmine, The Vert, Vanille and Amande) which is inexpensive but very pretty-smelling and long-lasting. I sprung for the Amande at 12 euros, a beautiful, incredibly realistic bitter almond scent with a milky undertone that very slowly dries down to a cuddly almond-vanilla veil with a musky finish. A bargain! The entire Satellite range can be bought at the Satellite boutique (I refreshed my bottle of 40º à l'Ombre - it’s what I’ve been wearing all summer) and couldn’t resist buying some of the beautiful jewelry as well. Lastly, the determined perfume-lover should definitely venture out of the main town to visit Psarou beach, possibly the most star-studded (and expensive) beach of the island. There you will find not only a magical location but also the beautiful Luisa boutique which sells Dyptique, L’Artisan and Lea St. Barth perfumes. I do love the Lea St. Barth range and since I can’t find them here, a visit there is always a treat. Furthermore at Luisa you can pick up 15ml size bottles of several of L’Artisan Parfumeur’s gems, a great way to finally owning some great perfumes you love but couldn’t bring yourself to committing to a larger bottle.

Finally, this wouldn’t truly be a piece about Mykonos if I didn’t mention this island’s most wonderful quality, its energy. Reading about Mykonos, or hearing about it from those that love it you will undoubtedly come across mention of this mysterious ‘energy’ that is said to affect all those that visit it. Is it the ancient island of Delos nearby? Is it the crazed Meltemia (strong, northern dry winds) that ravage the rocks and rush whistling through its daedal alleys? Is it the beautiful sun that constantly loves the island, bathing it in light? Is it the supposed ‘energy triangle’ formed by Mykonos and nearby Delos and Tinos? Or even its supposed… magnetic field…? Oh what nonsense, I’ve thought countless times with a derogatory smirk. And yet, and yet… I keep going back. I’ve broken my ‘see a different island every summer’ tradition and just keep heading its Siren song. I go back. No more cicadas for me. I’m sure there’s no magnetic field. I’m sure the ‘energy triangle’ of the pagan traditions is just that, a pagan story. But truly, this island has this terrible charm you can’t escape from, this magical, elusive, completely indefinable and intangible quality. You set foot there and suddenly your heart is full. Food for the soul, yes. And there is an energy there. Something you cannot possibly put your finger on. It’s in the way the sun laughs when he sees her, Mykonos. He bathes her in this unbelievable light that reverberates from the streets. You just want to eat it up. And I swear you can smell it.

Images: prickly figs via www.gatewaytosedona.com, figs & the view from our hotel room and myself taking a picture, own collection.

Sniffapalooza in London : Visiting Al Qurashi

Still buzzing from the lovely presentation at Roja Dove’s Haute Parfumerie and the thrill of our exclusive purchases, we moved across the street on Brompton Road and entered a very different world of perfumes indeed. Al Qurashi was founded by Abdul Samad Al Qurashi, perfumer to Saudi kings and queens. Today the company is still family-owned and the tradition set by Abdul Samad Al Qurashi is continued by specially chosen blenders who continue his vision. Considering my recent experience at the Arabian Oud Shop in Paris was a minefield of both sensory and social insults, I’ll admit to entering Al Qurashi with some trepidation, my spirits only buoyed by Roja Dove’s earlier promise that we were going to love it. In fact, my reservations dropped the moment we stepped in the shop, seeing as unlike the Arabian Oud Shop, my nose-hairs were not singed upon entrance and the staff was delightfully welcoming and warm.
 
Gathered round a glass top table, we followed presentations on aoudh oils and got to experience the different grades of maturity as we appreciatively explored 1 year old, 3 year old, 8 year old, 15 year old, 30, 80 year old and finally, the majestic 100 year old aoudh oil. During the presentation, Roja Dove popped in from across the street, and once we had finished smelling the oils, he proceeded to give us yet another beautiful presentation on aoudh itself as well as Arabian perfume customs. I already knew a good bit about Aoudh and how it is produced from fungus-infected wood, but was mesmerized to find out exactly how labor intensive the process is, fully explaining the cost of this marvelous ingredient. From a large deep bowl on the table filled with aoudh wood, Roja produced a sufficiently large chip and showed us little holes and abrasions on it, ranging from the minute to the slightly larger, some of them deep and incredibly narrow. He then explained that every chip is worked by hand with extreme precision, for every little bit of healthy wood has to be removed so as to not compromise the quality of the prospective aoudh oil. The narrow little holes and small abrasions are the marks left on the wood after the healthy bits have been removed. My mind struggled excitedly with the realization that each and every bit of that wood was handled by someone whose eyes are so expertly accustomed to not only spot the tiny healthy bits and how deep they vein into the wood, but also someone who is both patient and skilled enough to be able to remove them! It seemed impossible, but there it was… Mr. Dove then went on to explain how when the oil is extracted, it is not poured in containers by machinery, but by hand. And by that I do not mean hand-poured. No, the artisan will gently place his palm on the surface of the oil and will then gently rub off the oil that was picked up on the mouth of the container, letting it drip in. Again and again and again. Hundreds, thousands of times, until the container is filled. My mind was once again filled with wonderment for this age old traditional process, the patience of all the artisans involved and a silly little voice which wondered whether the oil was not contaminated by flakes of skin from the hand. A question I decided to ignore, because frankly, I do not care. Mr. Dove then proceeded to demonstrate how one can be perfumed with the smoke of aoudh, using a tall silver pot-like instrument with burning aoudh chips in its core. He explained that this is placed under the clothing and that the perfuming is completed once the smoke starts coming out of the collar. Finally, we discussed the differences between western and Arabian perfumery and how western (mostly French) perfumery actually ended up influencing Arabian perfumery. Roja explained to us that Arabian men and women used to (and still in fact prefer) to create their own perfumes by way of layering different oils on skin to create their own unique sillage. The concept of a ready-made blend was foreign to them up until the latter half of the 20th century when they were exposed to French perfumery. At that point, Arabian perfumers began experimenting more with complex blends in order to create perfumes that smelled similar to popular western classics, yet were closer to the Arabian sensibilities. Before leaving, Roja was kind enough to demonstrate how Arabian men and women layer oils on their skin, by tapping an oil on their skin, blotting and blending with the fabric of their flowing garments and then continuing with the next oil and then the next, until the desired effect is achieved. Beautiful and extremely exciting, to learn about a culture in which perfume is so interweaved in daily life that everyone dares to blend their own perfume!

We then followed a presentation on rose perfumes. We were first presented First Grade and Second Grade Rose. The first grade is the premium, the one from the first processing of the fresh petals, while the second one is derived from the already used petals, processed for a second time. You can guess which one is more precious and expensive! They were both beautiful, but the difference was stunning. We were then passed several different varieties: Swiss Rose, Taif Rose, Instanbuli rose, May Rose, Bulgarian, as well as several different blends of rose with oudh and other, non-disclosed ingredients, referred to secretively as 'exotic flowers', a term even the lady giving the presentation had to giggle about. I am not a pure rose kind of girl at all, but to my surprise, I found one that mystified and excited me. Eastern Rose (a variety which I unfortunately cannot recal which city it stems from), was a marvel that managed to seduce even me. This is a pure rose oil that actually smells fruity and sublimely feminine. I would be happy to wear this on its own, as it simply needs no further ornamentation.

As the official presentations ended and most of our group started to wander in the shop, sniffing the various blends and deciding what to buy to bring back home, I requested that Diane give one last presentation to us, a presentation of musks, for those that were interested. She happily complied, and brought another group of large beautiful jars to the table for those of us remaining, still transfixed by all the beauty we had encountered. Beautiful natural vegetable musks were presented to us, others pungent while others soft and innocent. They were all vegetable musks, some pure, while others blended with oudh and/or flowers. There's still a story lurking in here, but well, that's a story for another day. I promised you an article on natural musks soon. I haven't forgotten. It will be coming after my vacation, along with stories of many more perfumes, the promise of which always lingers in my mind...

With kind thanks to Karim, who gave his permission to include the images used in this article. (www.asqgrp.com)

Sniffapalooza in London : Visiting Roja Dove

Ask any Sniffapalooza London traveler what their highlight of the trip was and chances are the answer you’re going to get is Roja Dove’s Haute Parfumerie in Harrods. I lost count of the times I heard a fellow traveler wistfully saying “I could spend days there!”. If you are a perfume lover, Roja Dove’s Haute Parfumerie can be likened to Mecca: It has to be visited at least once in your lifetime!

After a delightful presentation and hand & arm massages at Jo Malone’s, we walked the short distance to Harrods and took the elevator all the way to the top. Labyrinthine as Harrods might be, I’ll give credit to our collective perfume antennae and say we found Dove’s treasure trove instantly. Once inside, it was hard not to get giddy: the small space positively glistens with the most magnificent extrait de parfum presentations - little extraordinary works of art both in terms of content and appearance that shine like precious diamonds under the light of the chandeliers. Dark lacquered walls, mirrors, a niche with colorful pillows and a most sumptuously plum-colored carpet make one feel as though they are in the privacy of a boudoir with the extravagance of a harem. Familiar shapes, like Caron’s glorious fountains, Nina Ricci’s complete collection of extraits and MDCI’S precious bust stoppers share the space equally with never-seen-before wonders, exotic flacons often bearing no name, exciting the fantasy with their shape and waiting, waiting to be discovered and loved. The abundance of scents that are there to freely play with and explore could keep one busy for days, however most of the Haute Parfumerie’s treasures are behind lock and key, some tantalizingly behind glass, while others securely hidden away.

Just as we were warming up exploring, Roja Dove appeared: Tanned, deliciously dressed in a swirl of brightly colored silk and studded with shining jewels, he looked like he’d just returned from a month’s luxuriant yachting in Greece or alternatively (and anachronistically) partying it up in Miami at the Versace villa with Gianni. A minute in his speech however, it was obvious that the impressive looking man is quintessentially British and proud of it too. I was unglamorously tired (fourth day in London after an exhausting week in Paris) and felt like I was about to collapse, yet it was impossible to think about pain and tiredness as Roja regaled us with extraordinary tales from his life in the perfume business, the house of Guerlain and how it used to operate, Caron and its mistress and the magic of scent. Although I wouldn’t dare to attempt repeat his beautiful stories for they would no doubt lose their charm without the man’s humor and personal memory as their driving force, I would like to share a few interesting facts here. Mr. Dove’s first love in perfumery was Guerlain – an infatuation which turned into a decades-long love affair when he was hired by the venerable house. He shared with us a feeling we all agree upon: that Guerlain has changed radically ever since it left the hands of the family. This is not news. What however did move me, as I am sure will move you, is the fact that Guerlain barely made money when it was still family owned. The concern for quality, the sourcing for only the very best of ingredients and the extraordinarily beautiful, unique presentations, meant that Guerlain was a labor of love – a family affair that continued operating without really making profits in order to honor its tradition and the name. (I could not help but draw a parallel between this story and the words of Linda Pilkington the previous day, who also admitted to pressing on, doing what she loves for the love of it, despite little or no profits) Secondly, I would like to share that the Haute Parfumerie’s policy of keeping most of their stock locked behind glass is not done in a pretentious, elitist fashion, but stems from Roja’s own memory of what love for perfume once was. Roja effortlessly transported us to the past with eloquent tales of his youth, when to love perfume meant braving the threshold of an ultra-chic perfumery and asking to be presented with that which you craved. Being granted the precious flacon by an immaculate sales associate was part of the experience and finally holding it in your hands sent an extra shiver of appreciation through your body. The perfume ‘wall’ of most modern perfumeries makes perfume itself lose all its charm in his eyes. Although I’ll have to admit to much preferring being able to explore and play at will when in a perfume store (preferably without someone hovering over me!) I do understand what he means about the charm of living out the whole experience when out to buy a luxury good like perfume. And even though I’ll always enjoy exploring by myself when buying perfume, I do admire the fact that he dared re-created the perfume experience as it had been in his formative years.

The presentation continued with rounds of appreciative sniffing, as we were passed various different perfumes to smell on blotters, always accompanied with a delightful story. A highlight, surely, was Baccarat’s Les Larmes Sacrées de Thebes (The Sacred Tears of Thebes), a marvelous balsamic, woody, incense laden perfume in one of the most extraordinary Baccarat presentations. Having bought all (or nearly all) of the stock, this jewel of a perfume is now only available at the Haute Parfumerie. It is a must-sniff for all serious resin & incense lovers, however the price is rather prohibitive so be prepared to have your heart broken. We proceeded to smell Dove’s Trilogy of scents (Enslaved, Unspoken & Scandal) which were absolutely beautiful. Just as I was thinking ‘this is it, it cannot possibly get any better than this’ we were presented Dove’s semibespoke line of fragrances. Semibespoke is a term Roja and his team use for a line of very special fragrances that are available in very limited quantities – 50 bottles of each to be precise. The high price and exclusivity of the scents means that it is unlikely you shall ever come across someone wearing your scent, hence the term semibespoke. These fragrances bear no name but are simply identified by numbers. They are masterpieces. How can that be you ask, is there no dud in between? No, no dud, no mediocrity, not even one that’s simply just ‘good’ instead of perfection personified. They are truly amazing. A lover of musks, my heart was captured by three: Number Seven, Number Nine and Number Eleven. Of the three, Number Nine was my favorite – the most divine nectar of soft flowers and Tonkin musk, very much in the spirit of vintage Le Dix. The other two focused on two different animalic notes, one being unabashedly loaded with civet and smelling sinfully dangerous, while the other on castoreum, which forms the anchoring base of the leathery chypre structure, bringing to mind the great lady Cabochard. It was a day of rapture.

Images: Harrods department store, Roja Dove via rojadove.com and Baccarat’s Les Larmes Sacrées de Thebes

A Visit with Linda Pilkington (Ormonde Jayne Perfumery)

After a weeklong heat wave, London weather invariably regressed to its charmingly unpredictable nature by the time of our visit. Early Tuesday morning treated us to glorious skies of blue and happy sunshine. By lunchtime, the heavy clouds told us the rain was not just a passing summery drizzle, but it was too late: The Sniffapalooza program was already in full swing and we were running on a tight schedule. No way to rectify the early morning mistake of open shoes and airy clothes. We moved from Miller Harris’ flagship store in Mayfair towards Old Bond street through the ever worsening weather with our small group, huddled under our umbrellas to protect hair and clothes, but with absolutely no way to protect our soaking wet, besandalled feet. Succumbing to laughter with every wrong turn we took through the blanket of rain and alternating between grumbles, quiet ‘eewws’ and giddy giggles as though we were on a school trip, we reached the protection of our next destination: Ormonde Jayne Perfumery.

The Ormonde Jayne boutique is located in one of the most favorable locations in London: Not only is it right off Bond Street – one of the most prestigious shopping streets one can find in the bustling metropolis, with boutiques like Hermès and Chanel gracefully lining its length- it is also housed in the gorgeous Royal Arcade, which is small yet packed with exclusive shops. Its offerings range from the most fabulous chocolatier (Charbonnel et Walker), to high quality antiques, silverware and bespoke shoes. The Ormonde Jayne boutique itself can be found on number 12 of the Royal Arcade. Sleek, modern and sophisticated, the interior somehow manages to be cozy too – possibly due to its mignon size. Inside, Linda Pilkington was waiting for us, the huge smile on her face as inviting as though we were old friends. How can one not feel comfortable? We were served champagne and truffles from the aforementioned Charbonnel et Walker (let me tell you, I’ve never had a better truffle in my whole life, this was deliciousness itself) as introductions were made and our group settled in.

Linda Pilkington is an exuberant, petite, youthful blonde with excitingly intelligent eyes. She can be likened to a flame: she’s tiny, but boy can she start a blazing fire! Her excitement about perfumery is incredibly contagious – just a few minutes into our conversation we had forgotten all about the beastly weather and we were all gaily spraying perfume while she passionately talked to us about each of them. Movingly (very much so might I add) her demeanor created an extraordinarily comfortable environment: it was obvious that this wonder woman derived pleasure from our excited play. There was no uncomfortable feeling of having to be extra careful with the hefty bottles – they were being passed around excitedly and sprayed with abandon, all the while encouraged by Linda herself. The term ‘wonder woman’ is not just thrown out there thoughtlessly either. Listening to her impassioned presentation, it was easy to understand that this now world-known luxury perfume brand is not actually a machine that rakes in the cash. Quite the opposite in fact: it is a labor of love, riddled with difficulties and struggle. But the woman behind it does it all with a smile, because she loves it and is devoted to it.



Time seemed to fly as Linda spoke to us about her inspirations, greatly influenced by her travels which she touched upon with great passion: exotic locales like Morocco, Laos, Thailand and Japan all serve as inspiration behind her marvelous creations. The basmati rice accent in her Champaca (my favorite of the line) is her comfort note, the smell she wants to return to after a long, hard day. The beautiful (handmade) packaging of all her products in turn, is directly inspired by the Japanese Bento box (a lunch box which can range from those that are very simple to the extremely intricate, elevating it to a status symbol). I’d always loved the line’s packaging, but never made the connection. Suddenly, the moment it was explained, I saw it, clear as day. When the time came to smell Iris Noir, she went on to explain that most iris perfumes smell powdery because orris is purchased as powder and has to be made into butter by the perfumer with the result that it very much retains its powdery scent. However, Linda herself does not like powdery scents (!) so Iris Noir had to be an iris scent like no other. To this end she employed a lot of musk, vanilla and patchouli to ‘mask’ the powdery nature of iris. The result is a glorious, feminine oriental which (I got the impression) is one of her favorites. We were introduced to the line’s newest perfume - Zizan- last and I have to tell you that it made a huge impression on our group, creating much excitement all around. Employing three types of vetiver, Zizan smells sharp and bracing on the blotter but smells entirely different on skin. To this extent, it can most certainly serve as an extremely convincing argument against those who believe that the relation between skin chemistry and perfume is a myth! Five people in our group tried it on their skin and I can attest to the fact that it smelled extremely different on each and every one of them!

Finally as our visit was coming to an end, I took the chance to ask Linda a question to present here on Fragrance Bouquet. The burning question in my mind was how a professional nose deals with the current environment in perfumery, difficult and restrictive as it has come to be:

Fragrance Bouquet: “What is your stand on the current situation with the restrictions in perfumery?”

The answer came swift and as always with this amazing woman, incredibly passionate:

Linda Pilkington: “Oh I don’t CARE!!! I do what I want with my perfumes. If you don’t like it, or if it makes you sneeze, don’t buy it!”

To which Fragrance Bouquet can only add: “YOU GO GIRL!”

I’m sure you’ll join me in my wish that more professional noses would take a similar stand and join arms in an effort to prevent the loss of gorgeous ingredients that enrich our perfumes. What we consumers can do it turn, is support brands like Ormonde Jayne, who keep using what they (and we!) please. I already loved this amazing line of perfumes before my trip to London – but now I am an even bigger fan, having met the amazing woman behind it. Leaving her shop I felt compelled to give her a hug for being who she is and doing what she does. She graciously returned it – hopefully without thinking I was mad! I hope you too feel a little bit like having come to know her after this piece.

Images: Figures huddled under the umbrella – Flickr by PetitPoulailler, The Royal Arcade London – www.londontown.com, images of Ormonde Jayne packaging and Linda Pilkington via the Ormonde Jayne website.