Fragrance Bouquet’s Patchouli Top 10 & Sample Raffle

The patchouli reviews behind us, what better way to round off the series with a top 10 of the Fragrance Bouquet favorites! There are still several patchouli scents I haven’t gotten to smell, such as Keiko Mecheri’s Patchoulissime, Villoresi’s Patchouli and Bois 1920’s Real Patchouli just to name a few, but my extensive explorations in the world of patchouli have managed to show me that it can be any number of things: soft, harsh, herbal, leafy, woody, hippie, sensual... Without further ado, here are my own personal patchouli heroes, my favorite 10.

1. L’Inspiratrice by Divine: The one that started it all still retains its place as number one in my heart, even after so many others tried to dethrone it. This is the most voluptuous, round rendition of patchouli I’ve ever encountered. Ultra-feminine, its raison d'être is to seduce and to make the wearer feel beautiful. Marvelous and absolutely recommended.

2. Intrigant Patchouli by Parfumerie Generale: Patchouli Masterpiece. This ultra-animalic potion is sexy, savage and utterly devastating. This is patchouli like you’ve never smelled before: it simply has no twin. Dare to brave its pungency at least once.

3. Harem by LR: This copycat managed to creep up to third place on my list, due its marvelous sex-appeal and its beautiful development which takes it from poisonously sweet gourmand to purring powdery comfort.

4. Lolita Lempicka by Lolita Lempicka: Another gourmand orchestration around the perfect patchouli note, this Angel inspired gem smells like heaven. A compliment magnet if there ever was one!

5. A Taste of Heaven by By Killian: A beautiful combination of lavender, vanilla sweetness and patchouli with an almost barbaric, animalic twist. Its second-skin drydown is to die for.

6. 1826 by Histoires de Parfums: One of the quietest patchouli scents I’ve ever had the pleasure to smell, 1826 stays close to the skin throughout, but gets progressively warmer to reveal a gently animalic, human scent. Its sweet elements give it a delicious undertone which has me compulsively sniffing my wrist whenever I wear it.

7. Fumerie Turque: Dates and sundried plums, leather, the most glorious sweet tobacco note and slightly urinous honey, all enhanced and infused by gorgeous, gorgeous patchouli. Far more intimidating than its better loved cousin Borneo. I didn’t manage to buy this when it was exported and now I’ll have to trek to Paris for it. Full Bottle Worthy for patch and tobacco lovers. (If you test this, give it a fair chance.. the urinous note can be scary, but it smoothes out down the line.)

8. Patchouly by Etro: A lighter interpretation of true patchouli with a marvelous dusty/powdery aspect. Smells best sprayed on fabric and I especially love it on scarves. Unlike many patch-heavy scents, this will actually perform well in warmer weather.

9. Borneo 1834 by Serge Lutens: Probably the most talked-about patchouli scent among fragrance lovers, Borneo 1834 demonstrates the beauty of the patchouli/cacao combination. It is laced with the same sweet tobacco notes that Fumerie Turque uses in abundance.

10. Neonatura Cocoon by Yves Rocher: This recession-friendly gem is utterly comforting and delicious. It combines patchouli with pure chocolate and infuses both with the dark scent of coffee. Yummy!

Which are your own patchouli heroes? Or is patchouli still a villain for you? When commenting you will be automatically entered in a raffle to win a little patchouli sample-pack from me, containing Borneo, Neonatura Cocoon, A Taste of Heaven & Harem.

Images: Superman & Superwoman Flickr by Boss Tweed

Borneo 1834 by Serge Lutens : Perfume Review

There are many perfumes which put the focus on patchouli currently on the market, but few have inspired as much devotion or as many ravings among perfume aficionados as Serge Lutens’ Borneo 1834. While it might not be my favorite rendition of patchouli within the Lutens Line – Fumerie Turque has that honor, actually a far more complex scent than Borneo, but still centering around a most gorgeous patchouli scent and adorning it with leather, prominent, fabulous tobacco and accents of fruit and honey, for that extra pissy hiss that drives me absolutely mad- a patchouli series on any self-respecting perfume blog would be incomplete without a review of Serge’s patch hero. As Marina of Perfume-Smellin’ Things mentions, Borneo 1834 gets its name from the year patchouli was introduced to Europe wrapped in the luxurious imported silks in order to act as an insect repellant. The fabrics retained the beautiful aroma and the European high society is said to have subsequently developed a taste for the scent which was associated with luxury.

Borneo 1834 begins with a tantalizing, subtle gourmand opening, presenting accents of anise, licorice and beautiful, sweet and herbal tarragon to the nose. This beautiful lightly sweet trio renders the top notes clearly aniseedic and very reminiscent of Histoires de Parfums’ 1826. But while 1826 continues to focus on the aniseedic elements and to supplement the beauty of patchouli with the sweetness of oriental notes such as vanilla and sweet ambers, Borneo 1834 slowly lets go of the aniseedic elements completely and gets darker and dryer with time. The aroma of roasted coffee that has been shyly wafting in and out since the opening now manages to find a secure foothold and blooms on the skin deliciously, spreading its inky darkness over an extremely delicate undercurrent of golden, caramelized floralcy. The scent of patchouli itself, so far seemingly sleepy and subdued seems to suddenly surge forward, its dominant nature finally revealed for all to see. Its rendering is so grand it wouldn’t be an exaggeration to claim that it inspires awe, almost demanding a moment of silence from the wearer. The famous Borneo 1834 chocolate aspect enters fashionably late, just when the ballroom is coming to life. Swathed in a cloak of shimmering bronze, it is actually cacao, not chocolate, and an excellent pure, dark Dutch cacao at that. There are intimations of the same smoky, deep and round tobacco found in Fumerie Turque accenting the luscious blend as well, lending a purely exotic richness to the fragrance. In the drydown the dryness further relents to reveal resins both smoky and round, balsam to the woody, leafy character of the beautiful patchouli.

Testing Borneo 1834 in the past few months has been rather revelatory, for the notes listed were few and as such I was expecting a rather linear, even monotonous scent. What I found however, was far from it: this beautiful woody oriental has a gorgeous structure and is anything but linear. Its changes are both fascinating and enticing and each stage is well worth individual attention. One thing that surprised me, is that I did not get a camphorous note from this at all (something that most online reviewers report). As such I find myself wondering whether different batches of Borneo 1834 have different qualities, or whether the export Borneo differs from the juice offered at the Salons du Palais Royal (I have been testing the export version for the year 2008). If you have any information on this, please do share.

Harem by LR : Perfume Review

It feels a bit like skating on thin ice, choosing this perfume for review: in some ways it can be seen as a (*gasp*!) dupe, it is neither mainstream nor niche, it has limited distribution and it is offered by a brand most people likely have never heard of. I’ve never been one to conform however, and I truly love this perfume, so here we go!

LR is a direct marketing company – meaning you cannot buy their products from brick-and-mortar stores but only from registered LR “consultants” (the LR equivalent I guess of the better known Avon Lady) as well as the internet as of late. The company started up in 1885 in Germany, but quickly started expanding all over the world. Currently their products are available in 30 countries world-wide, including Australia, New Zealand and The Philippines. I first discovered their perfumes at a beautician’s office, where a black box of samples was displayed. Naturally, if a little sheepishly, I started opening each tiny phial for a quick sniff and even though I was doing so rather hurriedly (I felt rather guilty going through them without supervision, but was completely unable to resist the siren-call of unknown perfume) I still managed to register that within the sea of ho-hum, so-so and downright-awful scents, there had been a little gem, completely different than the rest. I was soon ushered in for my appointment and promptly forgot all about the little gem and its uglier siblings. But it does seem like some things are meant to be. More than a year later, I smelled a fantastically erotic, patchouli laden perfume on my best friend, after she returned from a trip to England. When I asked her for more details begging her to get me a bottle next time she went to London, she told me that it was given to her by a friend and that the friend had gotten it from a direct seller. Even worse, the friend had not bought it in England, but in Cyprus. And then one of those strange things happened: the puzzle pieces came together out of nowhere, and quite unexpectedly the penny dropped. Bizarrely, my mind made the connection with extreme certainty and no proof whatsoever: What I was smelling on my friend was the very same little gem I’d found at the beautician’s office… My beautician must have been an LR consultant. Even more surprisingly perhaps, I was right. On a bright Saturday morning this past Christmas I bought a bottle and since then, I’ve managed to drench half of its contents. Quite a feat, considering how many bottles of perfume I own.

The little gem is called Harem and it is a copycat, clone, wannabe, dupe or whatever you wanna call it of the ever influential, already widely-copied Angel. Yes, yes, I can’t believe I fell for that either. But I did. Hard. Released in 1994, two years after Angel had turned all the tables, dethroned all the perfume beauty queens of old and secured its success on the market, Harem snaked itself into the newly-opened niche and has faithfully remained a best-seller for the company that cleverly capitalized on the Mugler money-train. Not sufficiently different from the original monster to be accredited the same respect as a unique scent (see for example Lolita Lempicka), Harem still deserves attention. Why? Because it is Angel for the ones who cannot wear Angel itself! If you like/admire Angel in theory, but can’t wear it due to its obnoxious, in-your-face character, you’re going to love this. If you wish you could wear Angel, but get a splitting headache from it, you’re going to love this. If you find yourself distracted by the always attention seeking Angel every time you wear it and need something that is just that little bit quieter, kinder to your psyche, you will be able to wear this. If you are looking for something that is just as erotic but rather less vulgar, this is it. (As a side note, I used to loathe Angel, but I actually love it ever since I’ve had my little patchouli revelation moment. Still, I do prefer Harem.)

Harem opens with juicy, sweet mandarin orange notes tampered with the bitterness of bergamot and will continue to hover above the border separating decadent sweetness and adult bitterness for most of its development. Its bittersweet character is incredibly seducing, bringing to mind all manner of delights meant to be enjoyed by adults, rather than children: pure bitter chocolate, amaretto liqueur, bittersweet almond paste and marzipan… In fact it is not hard at all to conjure these images, since they all manifest as aspects of the perfume itself as it evolves. The juiciness of the sweet citrus fruit runs dry as the top notes fly off, and we are left with the sparkling oils of the rind, smothered in bitter pure chocolate and its toothsome milk counterpart, wickedly flavored with caramel accents. The patchouli, already present and prevalent from the very moment Harem is applied, becomes absolutely central in the heart notes and is incredibly gifted to boot: never dirty, never mildew-y, never earthy, this is a gorgeous rendition of the note. The best way to describe Harem’s patchouli would be to liken it to a sensual embrace, so round, sweet and warm it is. Yes, it is still as loud as its roots predispose it to be, but somehow it holds back, as though having perfectly learned the game of first grabbing one’s attention and then playfully falling quiet until the victim is reeled in closer. Wonderfully, the scent becomes ever nuttier as time goes by: specifically its already sensual combination of flagrant eroticism and gourmand comfort is underscored by the many faces of almond that start caressing the skin. Bittersweet almond essence, raw almond, soft almond paste and a few sinful drops of amaretto all combine with the extravagance of vanilla-patchouli and chocolate, making the skin positively edible. Here and there, I get wafts of cherry as well, the perfect complement to the creamy, nutty almond. Hours later, Harem becomes magnificently powdery, a beautiful angel-dust whisper on the skin. In fact, the powdery drydown is so gorgeous, I wish it was a scent of its own just so I could enjoy it at will.
Despite its low price-point (23 euro for the EdP), Harem most definitely does not smell cheap. Too, I have to add that despite my own extensive comparison of it to Angel, I should not omit the ways it is different: Harem is all about the gourmand patchouli as is Angel, but its patchouli is far less aggressive and far more round and smooth. Another major plus point, is that it has a far more perceptible development, with clear stages that keep the interest alive. Lastly, even though the two fragrances run parallel at first, from the point the almond blend makes its appearance Harem begins to diverge and differentiate itself. The greatest difference is of course the beautiful powdery drydown, a direct consequence of which is that spraying on the clothes will lead to a much more subtle fragrance (instead of a hostile takeover) when the garments are returned to the closet.

Harem can be bought online from the LR webshop or directly from LR Consultants in your area (you can request for a representative close to you by visiting your country’s page from the official website, provided of course that LR is doing business where you live…)



UPDATE:

:::IMPORTANT NOTICE:::

LR, the company that makes Harem has changed this perfume beyond recognition. Please do not rush to order it based on this review which was written about the original version of this once beautiful perfume. You can find out more about this by clicking here.



Images: Harem ad and bottle, www.lrworld.com/, gold panning, www.whoisdimak.com, diamond in kimberlite, www.scienceclarified.com and dew on clover, titled “diamond in the rough”, flickr by diongillard

Ashram & Ancient Air by Dawn Spencer Hurwitz (DSH Perfumes) : Perfume Reviews

Another week into the patchouli series here on Fragrance Bouquet and it is now time to look at some oil based perfumes. Perfume oils often get bad rep due to the fact that they do not ‘project’ as much as alcohol based perfumes, meaning they do not have adequate or comparable sillage. I cannot speak for all of Dawn’s fragrances since her library of scents is extensive to say the least, but I can tell you that when it comes to the ones I’ve personally tried, sillage has never been a problem. It is true, I tend to go for the heavy-weights in her collection: the incenses, the animalics, and her lovely (oh, SO lovely) gourmands. Leaving a fragrant trail has never been a problem!

Ashram:
Given a wonderfully exotic name referring to peace, tranquility and enlightenment, as well as the comforting protection and safety offered within a spiritual group, Ashram draws its inspiration from Hindu traditions and manages to translate its intended message with clarity. The intense, dark amber color of the juice might serve as a warning that what is to follow is far too intense to serve its intended purpose as a meditation aid, but in reality Ashram is not only surprisingly soft, but also calming and soothing in character. Its power is subtle: despite its mellow aroma, Ashram manages to shoot an arrow straight to the heart and soul of the wearer, constantly engaging the spirit with a low, rhythmic hum instead of a loud, attention seeking song. According to the official notes, what I should be smelling first is the nag champa incense, but instead, the opening is all about the precious champaca absolute for me. The gorgeously sweet bloom awakens my senses with its beautiful floral eroticism and I would be lying if I said I haven’t wished its scent didn’t linger there alone a while longer each and every time I’ve worn my sample. Soon, it is joined by soft, round amber notes that enfold it, blending with it to create an impression that is most saliently balsamic. The champaca now wafts in and out, a higher pitched note that comes and goes, leaving an ephemeral floral message with every passing. Adding texture and character to the light, dreamy sweetness of this scent is a powdery overtone. While powder might be interpreted in many different ways in different perfumes, in this instance it adds an element of intimacy to the blend, like catching sight of a patch of naked skin. Our star note in this series, the patchouli, might not be the star of this perfume (the wondrous blend of ambers is), however, it is what gives Ashram substance. Beautifully earthy, blurring the borders between coolness and warmth, the patchouli used here is moist and sweet. It centers the composition with its gravitational pull and shines through with a wink and a smile. As time goes by, it comes more into focus, becoming ever earthier and if possible, more charming.

Who should definitely try this: Lovers of Nanadebary Pink and Fifi Chachnil wishing for that extra kick that only patchouli can offer.

Ancient Air:
I am not certain whether Dawn intended this to be worn as a perfume by itself, since the official website lists it as an “accord”, even though it does have its own name. Whatever the intention, I have to say that this would be a very difficult scent to wear on its own. I’ve had a warning given to me by the boutique owner that gave me the Inoubliable Elixir Patchouli that it was for “serious patchouli lovers only”, now it is time for me to issue the same ridiculous warning myself to you dear readers! If there is anything meant to be for serious patchouli lovers only, this is it. That is, if you are planning to wear this as is and not use it for blending purposes. Ancient Air is in a word, pungent. It is easy to think that this is a straight up patchouli scent upon first application, because initially there is such an extreme blast of patch, smelling like pure, heavy essential oil. Give it a few minutes on the skin however and you will start detecting all its complicated nuances. Ancient Air quickly becomes intensely animalic with pronounced accents of civet and ambergris. There are overtones of rose geranium as well as something sappy and green hidden in its core. Now and then it manifests a happier, exotic side, as if it has a hint of coconut hiding in its depth, but for the most part it remains dark and restless. If you hate the headshop smell, steer clear from this one! Pleasantly, I have to report that if you have the patience for it, the drydown reveals a beautiful blend of licorice and aniseed. Personally I can’t wear this on its own at all, but I do love to keep a small decant and use in my own blends, where it is not only excellent, but also economical, since just a tiny amount will definitely suffice. I love to combine it with Egyptian Musk, sandalwood and minute amounts of civet. The blend I make is absolutely animalic and yummy. Going back to the subject of sillage, a drop or two of this as is on my wrist will take over the whole house. You have been warned!

Who should try this: Hardcore patch lovers and those who are looking for an animalic patchouli cord to use in their own blends.

Images: www.sxc.hu, Flickr by Scott Robinson

Patchouli & Inoubliable Elixir Patchouli by Reminiscence : Perfume Reviews

Patchouli:
Affectionately known as the “soul of Reminiscence”, Patchouli is the brand’s “flagship fragrance”. As I have mentioned in a previous review, to me, the particular brand has a lovely neo-hippie essence, and this feeling is both confirmed and underscored by their choice to place Patchouli as their central perfume. Offered in a clear bottle adorned with a girly smattering of stars, the cinnamon-colored juice too is closer to the hippie potions of the ‘70s than most modern interpretations of the note. Itself created in the ‘70s, Reminiscence’s Patchouli still manages to smell rather airy and playfully French, despite its retro feel. According to the official website, it completely lacks top-notes, but I find this rather hard to believe: spray Patchouli on your skin and you will find a boozy top accord of beautifully fermented grapes (akin to the scent of grappa) and light citrus notes that lend the fragrance a lovely vintage feel. As the top notes flutter away, the patchouli note takes over, but not once does it come on too strong. Its presentation throughout the development is always in tandem with the supporting notes, creating a soothingly soft blend. Cinnamon has the honor of the first dance, and together with the camphorous character of the patch, their twirling motions become slightly dizzying. This is not a metaphor! Two analgesic-related scents at once and I can’t help but get the impression I am being under the influence of something. Soon, the spiciness is toned down in favor of sweetness: the ambery base notes start showing through beautifully, lending the fragrance a soft yet very clearly discernible balsamic profile. Most salient is the sweet, round scent of tolu, only marginally tamed by the bitter resinous character of labdanum. In the drydown, the patchouli turns into a hushed whisper, leaving the very addictive sandalwood-vanilla blend to take over. The drydown is probably my favorite stage of Reminiscence’s Patchouli, due to the creamy, musky sweetness it imparts on the skin. What I absolutely need to mention before moving on to the Elixir, is that if you hate patchouli because of its headshop/indian-jewelry-cum-bead & fabric-store associations, this is probably not the right patch scent for you. It might be a soft scent, especially if you apply with a light hand, but it smells exactly like the sweet blend of amber-patchouli incense burnt in headshops. The sharpness is missing, but you can liken its scent to what you’d find if you buried your nose in one of the colorful fabrics sold there, just to find layers and layers of burnt incense smoke which has drenched the fibers. Although I can appreciate the particular scent for its playfulness, its balance and the way it showcases each note, I have to say that it is definitely not for me.

Inoubliable Elixir Patchouli:

“…and this one is for serious patchouli lovers only” the owner of the little jewelry boutique informed me as she handed me a sample of the Elixir, looking at me critically, no doubt trying to size up my patch love meter. I remained unblinking, open smile frozen in the grinning grimace of a terrified chimp. Regaining my composure, I decided to distract her equally unblinking avian stare by pointing to the bottle. “It is a beautiful bottle!” “Yes it is, it is a bit more expensive than the original, but well worth it to serious patchouli lovers.” …Seriously, the woman will NOT let go, she knows all about me, she knows I only recently started liking patchouli, she knows I am still exploring, she is soon going to kill me! (pause) …How will I come back here? I love her shop! I love the jewelry. (pause) Run now, consider later, I thought to myself as I made my exit as graciously as possible under the circumstances. Back in the comfort of my home, I eagerly ripped the gold-foil packet to reach the promised contents within. Surprisingly, the juice of the elixir is lighter colored than the original, the hue of light flower honey. Originally launched in 1970, the same year as its sibling, Inoubliable Elixir Patchouli was reissued in 2007. My first instinct upon spraying it is to go “Mmmmmmmm”: A full on pure, high quality dark chocolate cloud rises from the skin upon first contact. This stuff is rich and magnificent! Soon, the sumptuous oriental opening reveals glimmering facets as its soft core is cut through by a bright metallic tinge which lends it an air of luxury. The patchouli core at the center of this perfume is earthy and moist, while at the same time prickly, teasing the senses like long, playful fingers. In many ways, it feels like this is a heavily amped version of the original: I smell the very same notes that I did before – cinnamon, sandalwood, the beautiful amber blend of tolu and labdanum… Yet still, despite the obvious recognition, despite having found the match in the patterns, my senses still insist this is a very different perfume. Where Patchouli wore sandals and a colorful woven vest, Inoubliable Elixir wears YSL flats and a crisp tailored jacket. Where the original wore a playful smile, the elixir wears a naughty grin. Absolutely yummy and potent, this deep smelling, slightly medicinal dark blend keeps inviting me to re-sniff my wrist every few minutes. While it isn’t my favorite patchouli by far, this luxurious composition has something mysterious that keeps attracting me back for a little more. Until my sample finishes at least! Definitely sniff worthy - this will probably hit all the right spots for certain patch lovers.

Both perfumes come with their own ancillary products. Patchouli has its own deodorant, shower gel, body lotion, candle and “satinee” body oil, while Inoubliable Elixir Patchouli has a matching, ultra-luxurious body cream, dressed in the same gold-foil outfit of the bottle.

Patchouly by Etro : Perfume Review

Perfumes revolving around the note of patchouli are rightly reserved for the colder months of the year, considering their compelling potency can quickly become too much in warm weather. But if you had to choose one patchouli perfume that would possibly be wearable in the warmer months, which one would it be? For me, it would definitely have to be Etro’s Patchouly, a fragrance that takes nothing away from the glory of the dynamic patchouli, yet presents it in a way that is diaphanous and soft, lending it improbable fragility and grace.

Glowing, warm and alluring, this has all the goodness and flavor of a good patch scent, but only half of the calories. The opening fizzles with bergamot and playful orange-rind-oil sparkles, both acting as a filter, allowing only hints of the dark patchouli to seep through. But this gem won’t be testing the patience of patchouli lovers for too long: Gratification might be suspended for the first few minutes, but suddenly the dams break and a glorious, dark patchouli rushes in like a wave, frothing with shining rose geranium up top. Eagerly, the great patchouli chalice is filled with lashings of pure, dark chocolate and smoky tobacco leaf accents that offer themselves to the skin with impatient, heated urgency. The blend is so magically decadent at this point, and yet so easy on the senses, that it is unbelievably easy to get lost in its depth, forgetting all that’s taking place outside the space of the olfactory world. But is this really the same perfume that I suggested would be a perfect patchouli option for summer? Indeed. Fifteen to twenty minutes after application the (still relatively gentle) beast subsides, rests its head on its front paws and quite unexpectedly rolls over for a belly tickle. From roar to whisper, Patchouly now hugs the skin like the softest of silk Etro Shawls, with powdery accents so gorgeous they might as well have been pearly fairy-dust from the feathers of the brand’s signature Pegasus. Soon, the whole experience becomes a diaphanous veil: The patchouli becomes ever more addictive as it becomes sheer, calling the wearer to nuzzle the skin in order to get closer to its heart. As contradicting as it might sound, the nose will find accents of leather, as light as chiffon. The softest pellucid amber blends together with the most comforting, clean, pearlescent powder notes to create a protective aura around the milky sandalwood that has joined the chorus to round everything off in the most beautiful manner. The effect is gauzy, incredibly dry and gentle, without a hint of a sharp edge in sight. Beautiful!

Images: Patchouly bottle & box via www.shopstyle.com, Etro logo, www.etro.it

Neonatura Cocoon by Yves Rocher : Perfume Review

The first days of March seem to be harsher, darker and colder than the last half of February, which hardly comes as a surprise, because as we all know, March has a reputation to uphold... So what better scent to kick off the patchouli themed series of reviews, than Yves Rocher’s Neonatura Cocoon? In case the name wasn’t suggestive enough already, this is a supremely comforting perfume. Cleverly, the comfort experienced by using this scent already begins at the bottle: smooth and pebble shaped, it fits perfectly into one hand. It is even rather fun to use – its spray mechanism neatly hidden under a soft silicone cover that feels soft to the touch. (Side Note: Leaving it on your desk might lead to confusion… I keep mistaking it for my ergonomic cordless mouse while writing this!!)

First brought to my attention by readers of Fragrance Bouquet, I sought this out at the Yves Rocher boutique and fell in love. That is, I fell in love when I actually managed to identify it! It is rather problematic, but Neonatura Cocoon comes in exactly the same bottle as Neonatura Souffle, with only color differences to set them apart! Both bottles have the name Neonatura clearly marked, but neither is marked as “Cocoon” or “Souffle”! Taking a look at the website, one can eventually find that the lighter colored bottled (sand-beige tones) is Souffle and the dark, coffee-bean brown bottle is Cocoon. Phew!

Now, on to the scent itself: Like most delicious comforts in life, simplicity does it. Yes, Neonatura Cocoon is rather simple. Not only is it rather linear with little to no development over time, it is also a scent which focuses on few notes only, as though entirely made of warm, enveloping base notes. Extremely yummy, it gently hugs the skin with the scent of vanilla, cacao, patchouli and coffee. The central aspect is of course patchouli, which is in this case extremely earthy, moist and slightly chocolate-nuanced, mirroring the scent of my preferred patchouli essential oil that I use for perfuming my nourishing home-made body oils. As time goes by, I find that the patchouli becomes stronger and attains a slightly dirty character which I enjoy. The vanilla is sweet and delicious, adding definite sensuality and “glossiness” to the scent, if that makes any sense. Even though the vanilla itself is sweet and rather edible, it is used so considerately among the other notes, its sweetness only serves to give the fragrance roundness and voluptuousness, rather than rendering it a sweet gourmand. The cacao note in turn, is minutely powdery and beautifully dark, pure and round, perfectly complementing as well as intensifying the chocolaty nuances of the patchouli. As for the coffee, well, the official website doesn’t officially list it, but it is definitely there to my nose. Exuding the tantalizing fragrance of a mild, slightly caramel nuanced roast, the scent of coffee underscores the rising dirtiness of the patchouli and adds a masculine edge to Neonatura Cocoon. In fact, I think that this comforting and sensual warm fragrance will suit both men and women equally beautifully.

Neonatura Cocoon comes with a host of ancillary products, including a cute, rose colored solid, marketed as “Neonatura Cocoon Cream Perfume”. I would most definitely hesitate to try the deodorant (that’s a little friendly hint for the readers who do not have Yves Rocher boutiques nearby and are ordering from catalogues!) since I can’t quite imagine the slightly dirty aspects of patchouli and coffee being ideal for the armpit area…. However, I have tried the bath/shower gel, and it is definitely worth looking into if you love the fragrance. While its scent is neither as long-lasting nor strong enough to perfume my clothes (as do other ancillary products I have tried from brands such as Prada, Mugler and YSL), it is simply a pleasure to shower with it in winter time. It really feels luxurious to have the bathroom filled with this warm, sensuous fragrance. It does leave a lovely whisper of the signature scent on the skin and I find that immediately applying the perfume afterwards creates stronger sillage and improves the longevity.

Images: www.yves-rocher.com and Flickr by Dave_Boyer

A Change of Heart

How have your tastes in perfume changed over the years? I promised a couple of weeks ago that there was a series coming up here on Fragrance Bouquet, focusing on a particular note. The series is starting this Wednesday and is to comprise of a number of reviews focusing on patchouli-themed perfumes and is to culminate to a list of favorites. As many of you long-time readers already know, patchouli has been a defining, revelatory note for me. Making a 180 degree turn from hatred to love after a lifetime of avoiding patchouli frags like witches would a roaring pyre, I’ve gone through feelings of surprise, dissonance and acceptance for what still seems like a newly-found love. The time has come to celebrate this multi-facetted, full of nuances plant so important to perfumery.

But this post is not only about introducing the patchouli series. It is about change of heart in our perfume choices in general. I opened this post by asking you, how your tastes in perfume have changed over the years. I want to expand on this question and further ask: How do you feel about these changes? For me, accepting certain changes has not been easy. I grew up with a very clear instinct to passionately love green perfumes. Chypres, whether warm and animalic or strict, cold and austere were my primary love at an age when I could never have been able to say what a chypre was. Paloma Picasso’s Mon Parfum, Jean-Louis Scherrer 1, the original Nina, Rose Cardin de Pierre Cardin, Clinique’s Aromatics Elixir might have been completely age inappropriate, but I didn’t know and didn’t care. Chypres were my primary love. Related to the family in more ways than one, I also adored green, bitter and herbal perfumes: Clinique’s Wrappings with its sour herbal character held inexplicable, instinctive attraction, Cerutti 1881 with its chokingly bitter taste made me feel poisonously adult and Estee’s Private Collection was to me the brightest, most shining example of what a good perfume should be like: worth its money to the last penny, even though I could only afford the smallest size with my pocket money.

And through it all, I realize now, that I felt a certain kind of superiority, a certain snobbery towards those that in my eyes didn’t know any better. Not only could I not understand why people would choose anything remotely sweet smelling, but to my shame, I also felt a kind of pity. Furthermore, anything heavy on vanilla or even worse, a vanilla-patchouli combo was instantly translated as trashy in my mind. The women and girls that wore these perfumes instantly earned a desperate label in my mind. Do I forgive myself for the snobbery? Well, yes in a way… I was a teenager and youth comes brandished with such entitled superiority, such sheer conviction that one knows all and what’s more, one knows best. There is a certain hilarity in that. That doesn’t mean I am not ashamed of the way I thought then. Unfortunately however, there’s more to this… I have changed a great deal in the last five to six or so years when it comes to perfume choices. Suddenly I started appraising perfumes not in terms of whether I like them or not for personal use, but in terms of whether the scent in question was a well constructed, good perfume. Was it perhaps a fantastic perfume, even though I wouldn’t consider wearing it? The journey can be described as a great hobby that started off as completely egocentric (please my senses, my instincts), to something far more academic: perfume for itself. Then came this blog. And as I started wearing a different perfume almost every day, so I slowly found myself actually buying things I never expected I would buy. Suddenly I found that there no longer was a difference between what I appreciated and what I would actually crave to wear. For the past few years I find myself craving different things depending on my mood, the weather, my style of dress, the season, you name it. Choice seems completely arbitrary, no longer connected to a favorite family. The only limiting factor now, is whether I love something, and to my surprise still, even after so many years, I can love things from every fragrance family. And yes, it still surprises me. There is still a cognitive dissonance sometimes when I crave vanilla, patchouli, sugar, comfort, softness. My erstwhile self comes back to mock me sometimes. “You used to be chicer. You used to be sophisticated!” she says with her stupidly superior 15 year old voice as I pick up a comforting gourmand. I’ve yet to find a good answer to retort to her, even though I know that truthfully, I am far more sophisticated now than I was at 15. I can’t completely dissociate the label chic from the term Chypre or the characterization “green”. I can however feel secure in my judgment on what is good and tasteful and liberate myself from any worry with the confidence that my choice does the image I want to project justice.

Images: Heart via www.sxc.hu, grass and dewdrop via Flickr (originally uploaded by Scott Robinson). Last is the artwork depicting a girl trying to resist Eros. Unfortunately I no longer remember the artist or the title of the painting. If you know, then please drop me a line in the comments so I can attribute it.

Impromptu Trip

Hi guys! I feel totally guilty for the lack of posts the last few days but I went for a quick trip to Greece again. Six days only this time, but enough to tie some loose ends I needed to. I'll be returning home tomorrow and there will be a new post on Wednesday.

Kiss you!

Mi Fa by Reminiscence : Perfume Review

Brand identity is a valued concept in today’s market, however sometimes with our in-built motif seeking and pattern recognition capacity we manage to classify and even pigeonhole brands in ways they doubtlessly never intended to be defined. I’ve hardly ever been exposed to any marketing efforts by Reminiscence, but even so, the brand has been irreversibly connected in my mind with a number of images, ideas and concepts. For first, it is a line that is truly niche, continuing to fly under the radar even while it is being offered through big stores such as Douglas. Secondly, it is a line that seems to keep doing its own thing, with utter disregard for what is currently on trend, rendering it slightly bohemian. Further, it is a line that is very clearly youth orientated: the bottles leave no doubt in one’s mind on the issue of the target audience, but a visit to any one of their psychedelically cute boutiques can speedily close the case with overwhelming evidence. Finally, and perhaps most characteristically, Reminiscence is a line charmingly catering to the neo-hippie: the gorgeous, modern, flighty and unconventional hippie muse, folksy and favoring flats over heels, she is a novel translation of the 60’s-70’s model updated for our age.

For me personally, there is one last defining characteristic, harder to pin down and this time pertaining to smell: Reminiscence perfumes all feature a disturbance, a dissonant note or accord that manages to perturb me while at the same time keeps me with my nose glued to my wrist, my interest piqued beyond logic, even while I am bothered. Mi Fa is no exception to this rule. Belonging to a series of perfumes all named after musical notes (the rest of the perfumes in the series are named Do Re, Sol La, Si Do, while the series itself is collectively called “Les Notes Gourmands”) with all of them exploring the gourmand theme, Mi Fa delights even as it disturbs in equal measure. The opening is full of neroli and mandarin zest, with the former being very realistic and the latter juicy sweet and lacking in freshness. Quite heavy, the neroli note does not fly away, but instead remains, as the main theme of the fragrance –namely a delicious, soft, puffy note of marshmallow develops. Candied and sweet, the marshmallow heart smells exactly like the moment you open a bag full of the soft treats and find yourself surrounded by the sugary cloud. Belatedly, fresh notes kick in the background, tampering the sweetness and adding the slightest touch of masculinity: rosemary and lavender, with the merest undercurrent of something marine. Further down the road the gourmand character of Mi Fa intensifies as the aroma of nuts becomes ever more prevalent. I smell the officially listed almond (very marzipan like), but also roasted pistachio. Creamy sweet vanilla joins in the chorus loudly and proudly, underscored by heliotrope with cerise aspects and warm musk. Mi Fa lasts simply forever and remains rather unchanging after having reached this stage until the drydown, many, many hours later (in fact you will probably wake up with it the next day). The drydown is a faint gourmand shadow of cherries and vanilla.

So what is the odd note out? In this case I am sure it will come as a surprise, but it is in fact the neroli, strong and distracting from the fluffy character the rest of the notes present. It does however add something valuable to this gourmand/oriental: It makes it highly appropriate for summer, with its cheerful sunny disposition. Mi Fa is described as childish and mischievous on the official website and I can’t overstate how true this description is. In fact, before ever taking a peak at the website, my very first thought upon smelling the perfume was how childish it was. I find this absolutely delightful: This is definitely a feel-good perfume, with the power to lift mood and spirits. It does bring a smile to my face every time I wear it, and it makes life’s troubles seem not quite so heavy after all. Even though this is a sweet gourmand, it is not heavy or cloying. It has this amazing ‘whipped’ character, this frothy, soft as clouds lightness that rests on the skin like sparkling dusting sugar. Gourmand lovers will rejoice in being able to wear this beautiful fragrance in any weather, hot or cold.

Images: Joss Stone, the neo-hippie poster child. Les Notes Gourmands collection and the Mi Fa bottle, both sourced from www.reminiscence.fr

Forget me Not: Scherrer 1 and Scherrer 2 by Jean-Louis Scherrer (Part 2)

In this extra large, double Forget me Not feature, we travelled back in time to see the rise and fall of a largely forgotten fashion name, and my own personal history with the house’s signature scent. The house of Scherrer has managed to produce a perfume in every single decade since the launch of its signature scent. Today, in Part 2, we explore Scherrer’s first two perfumes, Scherrer 1 and 2 – the former, a bold chypre, the latter a cuddly oriental.

Scherrer 1: Instantly recognizable from its opening notes as a grand perfume with unmistakable Parisian flair, Jean-Louis Scherrer is, in my opinion, one of the best chypres ever made. Drenched in bergamot up top, Scherrer starts its journey sunny and bright but quickly starts singing a slightly melancholy romantic tune when the gorgeous hyacinth note is revealed. Bittersweet, delicate and hardy at once, the wonderfully erotic floral note is the perfect introduction to all that is to follow: immense attraction with that “Dare you come closer?” attitude all great chypres share. Scherrer is not shy or timid, and its intentions are clear from the very beginning. Expertly crafted to continuously underscore its animalic appeal from top to bottom, it features ‘stinky’ notes in every single stage: Cassis, with its distinctive, catty, urinous character up top, indolic jasmine and gardenia in the heart, and a glorious civet and musk combo in the base. We have a beautiful continuity thus, spelling brazen sex-appeal from the first moment of the application to the very last faded shadow in the drydown. But if the core, the skeleton of this perfume is wanton, sexy and desperate to relinquish heart, soul and trembling body to the hands of the object of its affection, so is its frame made of harder stuff, fleshed out by a holy, strict constitution of austere, disciplined greens, that look down at anyone who might make a wrong move with an exacting stare that’ll spare no one but the very best. We have unity then, but we also have contradiction: Warm gorgeous carnation and spicy rose for experience and sex appeal; lush gardenia, for the lover who discounts all cautionary tales. But then the classic chypre structure, with powerful oakmoss and green labdanum dominantly keeping everything in check. Scherrer is a beast in a forest, ravaged by passion yet always restrained by the rules, the smells of its home: Lichen, moss, earth, greens, wood. Like Paloma Picasso and the grand lady Cabochard, Jean-Louis Scherrer leaves victims in its wake, having the power to choose the most powerful gladiator. It can be worn as armor, it can be worn for warmth, like a fur coat whose scent it mimics to an extent, it can be worn as a weapon of seduction. Its beauty is the power and the unforgettable, intriguing confidence and animal magnetism it lends to the wearer.

Scherrer 2: Some beasts roar and some purr. This is definitely one of the latter variety. Created in 1986 and meant to capture the spirit of the Scherrer haute couture, Scherrer 2 has the marvelous ability to smell like a true child of its time and unbelievably contemporary at once. There are a few factors that stop this sweet oriental from smelling dated. For first, it is not a sillage monster like so many of its contemporaries. While it indeed has powerful projection and wearers are bound to leave a trail, unlike many of its contemporaries it will do so with enough modesty to not overwhelm everyone that comes in its path. In short, it ain’t vulgar. Secondly, it presents itself with fair, childlike candor and such girly innocence that it manages to completely remove itself from the powersuit associations of its decade. The opening features very fleeting bergamot notes and a touch of green over sweet, boozy aniseed. Very briefly, the scent turns fruity – plumy in fact, with a beautiful wine aspect and then it’s all about the honey. I am used to honey notes smelling sharp and acidic in modern perfumes, something I do not enjoy at all in fact, but if these same reasons have kept you away from honey scents, don’t let them stop you from sniffing this one. The honey note here is smooth and innocent, with beautiful floral hints wafting in and out. As has already been alluded, this might be a scent that makes honey its true focus, but it’s certainly a complex, multifaceted honey. There are hints of flowers: a very innocent jasmine and lily, most recognizable to my nose. There is soft, warm beeswax to be found in its depth, when sniffed closely. Most salient however, is the fact that this is not honey alone, but milk and honey together. Those of you that like me have had the comforting treat made for you while growing up will readily recognize the warm and peculiar, sweet combination. Once it reaches this stage, Scherrer 2 remains like this for hours, generously perfuming the body with the scent of honey and undergoing only minimal changes. With time it does become rather less innocent as the musk starts revealing itself and its sensual ambery base becomes stronger. At the end of the day the skin will smell of soft, powdery heliotrope, sandalwood and warm, soft amber.

Edit: It just struck me just now that Scherrer 2 is really going to appeal to Boudoir lovers. The two don't smell alike -aside from sharing in a prominent honeyed character- but something tells me this is going to be a winner for those who adore Westwood's love it or hate it gem.

Images: The images in this post belong to www.okadi.com and the originals can be bought directly from the OKADI website.

Forget me Not: Scherrer 1 and Scherrer 2 by Jean-Louis Scherrer (Part 1)

The story of Scherrer is bittersweet and slightly flat: There are no moving meridians, no climax to the private drama of the once well-known couturier and no catharsis at the end of the story. Born in the 1930s, Jean-Louis Scherrer studied ballet and fashion in Paris and later went on to train under Christian Dior at the house of Dior, as well as Yves Saint Laurent when Dior died and the former was appointed director. In the beginning of the ‘60s, Scherrer founded his own label, originally located at the rue du Faubourg Saint-Honoré, and later at avenue Montaigne, where it can still be found today. One of the beauties of writing the Forget me Not feature pieces is remembering the signature creations and innovations that made the couturiers behind the perfumes famous. Scherrer himself however, has left no such legacies. Indeed, he was better known for reinterpreting trends, reforming them with a more conservative touch that would still allow for femininity and a certain sex-appeal. It was this skill that made Scherrer once rich and famous, as first ladies, queens and the crème de la crème of high society would flock to the house to be dressed in the latest fashions while still avoiding the vulgarity of any eyebrow-raising. Modesty, thus, as well as on-trend status brandishing that would never fail to remind admirers that the wearer was in possession of serious money, were the hallmarks of this brand. The late ‘80s and early ‘90s found the house in economic decline and tragically, Scherrer was fired from the house he had once founded. The troubled designer fought back in court, but only managed to receive a settlement, but no further use of his name. Two decades later, the house seems to have bounced back, with Haute Couture growing and reporting a great percentage of young clientele.

In 1979, Jean-Louis Scherrer launched his first, signature fragrance. According to the official website, Scherrer “hoped that it would be a perfume of quality and tradition” and he is cited describing it as “The passion of the moment. The eternal feminine.” To me, this perfume certainly has something of the eternal. It was the first chypre I loved, at an age when I didn’t know what a chypre was. Formative then, for it started a long love-affair with everything green, austere, feminine but at once forceful. A love affair that started at an age before I even started attending school and is still going strong. Forever connected to a particular person, Scherrer 1 will be my first perfume love, whose name I only learned years later, while never having forgotten its smell.

I was a little girl, and Scherrer was the signature perfume of my dear aunt. Always spending weekends at her house so I’d be playing with my cousin, I’d find myself quietly marveling at the ultra-sophisticated scent following the footsteps of the petite woman with the sparkling blue eyes and the bobbed hair, falling around her face in soft curls. She seemed so exotic to me; having grown up in Austria her perfect Greek had (and still does have) the most beautiful singing lilt and cheerful intonation of a running stream. Unlike most of the women I knew, she had the power to be both loving, nurturing and strict at once. You could not mess with her! And when she laughed, the clouds would part from the sun, a beautiful laugh so infectious and gorgeous it would lend sparkle and light to everything it reverberated from. And isn’t that just the most perfect description of a chypre? Something that is strict and forceful, as well as loving and warm? Something that has the power to lift your spirits to a heavenly place? Something whose hug means so much more, because it is never thoughtless but always meaningful?

I never learned the name of the beautiful perfume, up until two years ago. While out perfume sniffing with my mom, I handed her another chypre in surprise: “Oh my God… This takes me back… It smells exactly like Soula used to when I was little. I love it!” After sniffing the blotter, she looked at me stunned. “You’re right. How can you remember that? She wore it forever… but doesn’t any more. I’ll have to remember what it was called. She probably still has a bottle, you know. She keeps everything.” My mom did remember - it was Scherrer, a name I’d never heard of before. And aunt Soula did indeed have a bottle still. In fact, she had two, smelling as fresh as day, even though they were both half-empty. Determined, I decided to seek it out on my trip to Paris.

We already knew what was happening with oakmoss in 2007, so walking into the Scherrer boutique I felt apprehension, a terrible fear that my original chypre love would have been changed beyond recognition. The boutique was quiet and dark and rather sombre with its black granite and mirrored walls, a stark difference after the buzzing, bright, cheerful house of Dior on the other side of the street. I bypassed a lady fitting a dress and joined a member of the staff by an oval table. On it, all the Scherrer perfumes, together with a fresh bottle of the signature. A sigh of relief - it was still the same. Sweet perfume cloud, full of memories of a creature that wore it well. Better than anyone else could.
(To be continued…)

Images: Early days of the fashion house: Scherrer with his models – www.jeanlouisscherrer.fr
Claudia Schiffer from a Scherrer fashion show - www.anitahopkinsla.com
A picture of Scherrer at one of his shows, the year he was fired – www.grioo.com
The Scherrer boutique on avenue Montaigne

We Will Be Right Back...

Hi guys! I have a deadline for a rather huge paper which I've been slowly slaving over since the beginning of January, so I will be out for a week from today, returning with new posts on Wednesday the 11th. Look forward to a big double Forget Me Not Feature, as well as a series on perfumes that share a particular note as their dominant characteristic, including a giveaway for a delicious sample that's kind of hard to come across. Yup, all sorts of goodies coming up, so check back in a week's time. And wish me luck! This is the most hideous paper I've had to write... ever.

Blue Agava & Cacao by Jo Malone : Perfume Review

The Jo Malone boutique in Thessaloniki adorns Tsimiski street like a brilliant diamond would the ring finger. It might be the parallel to Tsimiski, Mitropoleos street that has become the hub of the most luxurious shops in the city, but Jo Malone has probably made the better choice by placing the boutique in one of the busiest junctions of the shopping center. Exuding undeniable luxury with its chic signature black and cream colors (possibly the chicest color combination known to mankind), gleaming yet warm lights, marble surfaces and wooden floors, the flagship store impresses its Western European élan effortlessly upon passers-by and lends an upscale note to its surroundings. The staff is professional and warm, as helpful, charming and as knowledgeable as any perfumista would desire, and most importantly, as I am pleased to report, never pushy. I can’t resist mentioning that my favorite sales associate working there also happens to be a perfume collector and lover herself, and is an absolute pleasure to converse with. Her favorites in the Jo Malone line closely mirror my own, with Pomegranate Noir coming first and Wild Fig & Cassis (most excellent in soap!) coming in as a close second. There is however, one we disagree on, and that happens to be their best-seller: Blue Agava & Cacao.

I am not used to liking the same of anything as everybody else but it really came as no surprise when upon paying for the Blue Agava & Cacao at the register I got to hear that it is the scent everyone –men and women alike in fact- goes wild about. What’s not to like? Blue Agava & Cacao is as cuddly and comforting as a soft fleece throw under which to snuggle on the couch with a good book and chocolates in the middle of winter. (In fact I could just stop here, and it would be a perfect review, but let’s go on nevertheless.) I wouldn’t have expected intense citrus notes would suit a spicy gourmand so well, but the opening proves me wrong: An incredible hit of salty lime, vaguely reminiscent of the complete tequila works and a shot of bitter orange and grapefruit invigorate the senses and grab the interest. The scent so far is very natural as well as bright, like a ray of sunshine. The lime scent is dispelled within a minute, giving way to a gorgeous, smooth and sweet cardamom with a beautiful, transparent undercurrent of spiced grapefruit. Even though it slowly becomes progressively fainter with time, cardamom lovers should definitely check this one out, since the beautiful spice is a dominant (almost till the end), as well as very well rendered note in this scent. For a while the scent assumes a completely gourmand identity, smelling very much like good quality white chocolate, until suddenly it blooms, flowering in the most attractive manner. I won’t pretend I know what the flower of the agave smells like, but I do get lilies, rose geranium and (officially unlisted but oh-so definitely there) frankincense. This is definitely a deep, sensual symphony that can come across as overwhelming when simply read about, but I will ease your fears by saying that the sweetness is cut and tempered by a dry, peppery note which puts everything into proportion. Further down the line, the much awaited cacao finally makes its appearance and proves to be worth the wait: bittersweet and playful, deep and yummy it makes the skin nuzzle-worthy and addictive. The blend is perfect (yes, really!) with no notes jumping out jarringly screaming for attention. The vanilla used here is absolutely smooth, deep and erotic (and once again very natural smelling) and together with warm musk, complements the cacao to perfection. I only get traces of vetiver and cinnamon in the background; they do not really enter the game as major players, but definitely complete the picture, if this makes sense. The overall impression as I have already mentioned above, is one of luxurious comfort and innocent sensuality; the comfort of soft, good quality fleece, combined with the luxury of cashmere and velvet. Edible yet never overwhelming, this scent is at once soft and noticeable, with a medium projection that invites others to come ever closer to the addictive epicenter. A definite winter scent, if not a winter must for gourmand/oriental lovers.

The Jo Malone line has not been very warmly received by the perfume community, oftentimes receiving flack for its “simplicity”. While I myself am not enamored with the whole line (I actively dislike almost all of the white florals in the line, for example), I do think that this reputation is undeserved to a point and suspect a great deal of the negativity stems not from the quality of the perfumes but rather from the admittedly unimaginative/uninspiring names, which are rather reminiscent of Body Shop creations. It is however a shame to let a whole line pass you by just because the names are not as romantic or complex as we are used to. I have no problem putting my head on the line and say that despite what you might have heard or might be led to think due to the simplistic names, the fragrances themselves are not simplistic. Almost none of them are linear – in fact most of them have a gradual and very perceptible development. Just because something is called “Blue Agava & Cacao” does not mean it only features agave flower and cacao as notes! Furthermore, I sometimes fail to understand why other perfumes that could be blamed for exactly the same things are received with joy and exuberance, anticipation even. A good example would be the Marc Jacobs line of colognes, with names such as “Cucumber”, “Violet” and “Orange” which are, believe me, much more insipid and simplistic than anything ever turned out of the Jo Malone brand. It makes one think…

Images: www.jomalone.co.uk, painting of blue agave via www.roypurcellgalleries.com, agave and cactuses via http://planetapeninsula.org by photographer Miguel Angel

Perfume Identity

One of my best and oldest friends here -let’s call him T., has a long distance relationship with a beautiful, smart and funny girl from another country. Even though I know this friend for many, many years and he knows very well my passion for perfume, we hardly ever talk about it together. As a matter of fact, I’d never even asked him what perfume he is wearing, which is not very strange considering this is the sort of hobby that bores or bemuses many of my male friends. Most of the time, I just don’t bring it up, unless prompted. T. is a sharp dresser with a great sense of style, is always well groomed and has always smelled nice, warm and clean. His scent of choice (something by D&G as it turned out) was innocuous and pleasant, sexy but not in the least attention grabbing, so much so in fact, that I never even consciously realized that he’s been faithful to the same perfume for years. This week, S., the girlfriend from abroad came to stay for a few weeks and all of us having missed her, we decided to do something together this Saturday. A short round of hugs and kisses all around in front of the bar and there’s me, turning to T. trying hard to inject a cheerful, curious note in my voice that would hopefully mask the disappointment: “You’ve changed your perfume!”. Laughter on his side, and a sharpish look from S. “Uh, hah, yes, I did, how did you know?” I ignore this: of course I know, I mean, really. S. turns to me. “I can’t get used to it.” She says, and I can’t tell if she’s disappointed or just making a statement. Politely I change the subject and we go inside for drinks. Sitting down however, the subject comes up again unexpectedly half an hour later. They are both excited, smiling, completing each other’s sentences as lovers tend to do, while they describe meeting at the airport again after such a long time. “We speak every day, but it’s still strange to meet face to face after not having seen each other for two months! Then we spend an hour together and it’s as though we’ve never been apart.” Then suddenly S. becomes more animated, raising her voice slightly: “Yes, but he came there and I hugged him and he smelled different. I was like…. IS THIS MY BOYFRIEND???” and once more: “I can’t get used to it…”

This little snippet of the evening has remained vivid in my memory and has been popping in and out of my mind, raising the same questions every time. What does our perfume of choice mean to our loved ones? And what about those of us who change our perfume daily? Are we missing out on a secret signal, a secret form of recognition, a bond which we would otherwise enjoy? It is easier for me to accept that S. would be perturbed by T.’s change, for when living so far away from each other, every bit of familiarity becomes magnified in importance and of course, there’s no question that the sense of smell would play a leading role in that sense of familiarity. The change can be rather devastating, for in truth, the scent of a lover is something we take with us, like a memento, signifying some unspoken truth that will light up like a magic compass upon the next meeting of the bodies. Sometimes, it is the only important (or even meaningful) thing you can take with you when parting. But what about my reaction then? How disturbing and inexplicable that I would react with disappointment to the change. After all, I see T. every week without fail. And what is the message that friends subconsciously receive about those of us who change our perfume constantly? Perhaps we’re better off, never actually giving our friends the chance to associate us so deeply with a scent that it’d create dissonance the moment we decided to change it.

Have you ever had a signature scent? And if so, did you experience similar reactions from your friends when you made a change? As for me, I have in fact gone through stages of using a particular perfume almost exclusively or with such noticeable frequency that it becomes associated with me in the past. I’ve never really had a strange reaction from friends or loved ones, however, my boyfriend does always comment when I wear the perfume I used to wear when we first started dating. He gets this blissful look in his eyes and always exclaims I smell great. It makes me grin every time, because he never actually makes the connection fully enough to mention it by name.

Images: Flickr by bri v and Stefano Mortellaro