on the term "functional" in clothing, perfumery and food

In Germany "Funktionskleidung," i.e. functional clothing is the uniform of the middle class, especially as regards jackets.Legions walk around in hiking or trecking gear by Jack wolfskin, or, if you wish to be more exclusive, The North Face, or, if you're a trendy pseudo-elitist, perhaps Moncler. The term functional as applied to these synthetic textiles is ambivalent. On the one hand it (rightly) suggests that they are purely functional, without any pretension to style or aesthetic expression. On the other, they (wrongly) seem to suggest, that a traditional Crombie, Chesterfield, Duffle or Caban made of wool  is somehow dysfunctional or at least a lot less functional. Which may be true in the antarctic or when climbing the Nanga Parbat, but certainly not in some Western European city center.
Likewise, functional food conveys the image that its "conventional" alternative somehow fails to  function in terms of  providing specific nutrients, which the latter, as a redesigned industrial product sold at a premium supposedly does perfectly. Of course, the primary function of functional food is to generate profits for the food industry and little else. Again, nobody in the prosperous parts of the world requires complements of this sort to a regular, intelligent diet.
In fragrance, the distinction between functional and "haute" perfumery is old and seems entirely sensible. The former employs perfumery a means towards modifying (theoretically: improving) a product, be it cosmetics or car seats; the latter constitutes perfumery as an aesthetic end in itself aimed only at titillating our noses. But there's the rub. I doubt this distinction is still capable of being maintained in view of the nature of the perfume industry today. For one there is not much "haute" in most "haute perfumery" these days. The great mass of releases are formulaic, redundant, assembly-line concoctions made from the cheapest available materials and the only way you can tell them apart is by the Potemkin image campaign they are dressed up with. In fact, it is often hard to tell a perfume from a cleaning product, because both use the very same materials. Thus, to me, Jean Claude Ellena's Jardin series for Hermès smells in no way like gardens, or like luxury, but like a series of airport toilets heavily deodorized with various fruit-and-floral scented sanitary products (Frankfurt "uses" Un Jardin sur le Nil"). And this is the work of one of the grand present-day perfumers, so it is said, who has more time and funds on his hands than most.
Besides industry policies dictating the cheapening of perfume, there is also a problem on the consumer end. A lot of people's noses have been entirely denatured. We all know of the tests with children who prefered artificial strawberry flavors in yoghurt to the real fruit, because they had been socialized into viewing the former as "strawberry" and could not handle the complexity, refinement and sensory challenge of the real thing. Well, most people are so overexposed to functional perfumery that apparently they no longer realize how strong and far from natural smells fabric softener, cleaning, and cosmetic products smell. When I sleep in so-treated bedsheets, I have to wash my pyjamas - sometimes twice - because from contact alone they reek to the heavens of "April-fresh" dihydromyrcenol infusions.Consumers seemingly don't mind or even demand of their personal fragrance to reproduce the virtual smells of their chemicalized environment - a vicious circle from an outside perspective, but a wet dream for Symrise or Givaudan. Ultimately, 99.9% of  perfumery today is functional - it's primary function is generating "haute profit." Like everything (and everybody) else in a neoliberal system, that is the criterion by which it will be judged. Happy 1984, err, 2012 y'all.

Smoke and Mirrors in perfumery and politics

Just read on basenotes about the apparent crisis of the house of Montale. It seems this perfume (and watch etc.) house is the brainchild of a Palestinian entrepeneur, Ammar Atmeh, based in the United Arab Emirates, who used Pierre Montale as a French "de luxe" front, the latter perhaps not even being involved with actual perfume creation and raising the question whether the stories about Montale's service to Arab royalty are true or just so much PR. As a house Montale's made a few nice fragrances (I personally enjoy Royal and Black Oud and would like to try Cuir d'Arabie), but their release policy bordered on the absurd in terms of quanitity, redundancy and confusing naming. They also seemed less than well-organized in terms of communications and PR (involuntary guerilla-marketing?).
While an end of Montale would not be a dramatic loss to pefumery at this point, it will be interesting to see whether further facts emerge from a possible mud slinging contest (apparently Messrs. Montale and Atmeh are doing battle over the trademark, which is why Montale perfumes have been recently appearing under the name "Tanelli" - so now it's an Italian front?). Also one can safely anticipate the appearance of lots of Montale perfumes on ebay and other grey market outlets, so fans will be able to stock up.

I gather that this is a sober lesson on never believing any of the marketing BS perfume houses invest so much energy in - except if you happen to enjoy the illusion - and simply to focus on the scent in front of you. Whether it's a fake M. Montale, a reengineered Count d'Orsay, Creed's phoney perfume history, or even Guerlain's real pre-LVMH history - it says nothing about the nature or quality of the product you are paying big $ for now. A few artisans aside, behind the dreamworld of perfume lie multinational cosmetics and chemical giants and slick business plans, big business and new economy and not all that much craft or art. You can smell the result in every department store. 

It's all the more vital that bloggers, since nobody else wants the job, apparently, do what they can to focus on what Andy Tauer christened "perfumism" - the sphere of quality-driven artisan perfumery, while contributing to as much transparency as is possible of the smokes and mirrors business of perfume. Certainly  pro fumum, burnt offering to the gods, has always also served the purpose of mystifying truths uncomfortable or not desired to be seen. Smoke gets in your eyes. Ask the Greeks and Italians, whose governments have just been taken over, without democratic legitimiation by the people at large, by so-called technocrats, which is just another name for the consultants and bankers who were responsible for the banking and Euro-crisis in the first place and are now supposed to solve it (hello to Mr. Geithner back in the US). Both Mario Monti of Italy (ex-EU commissar and Goldman Sachs advisor) and Lucas Papademos (former chief of Greece's  central bank and VP of the European central bank) are part of the "Frankfurt Group" a coterie of  functionaries who installed the dysfunctional EURO system fully aware of the potential consequences and beholden to the interests of big finance rather than ordinary Europeans (English readers check here for more) That's what their policies look like, too. The whole thing stinks. Like a cheap perfume.              

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Perfume is Dead. Long Live Perfume

Classical Perfumery is dead. You hear this a lot these days, and contrary to Mark Twain, who could reply to his premature obituary that "the reports of my death have been greatly exaggerated,"this artform most likely is indeed as deceased as the famous Monty Python parrot .
The simple course of time with its inevitable transformations of tastes, the hegemony of accountants at the corporations who control 95% of the market, the interests of the aromachemical giants, and the regulatory policies of IFRA reflecting those interests have combined to make so many nails in that coffin over the last decades (honorable mention goes to the wreckless non-sustianable exploitation of natural resources like Mysore sandalwood, rosewood etc. pp.).  Anyhow, when the epitome of perfumist integrity Andy Tauer is creating Pentachords rather than a second L'Air du Désért Marocain one could cynically assume he is not just playing with concepts, but perhaps preparing for the future status quo of scent creation.
But... I do not want to play the cry-baby here insisting on being pacified with Vintage Sous-le-Vent and this won't be a reactionary rant (although I love a good reactionary rant if it's in the name of endangered cultural heritage rather than endangered privileges). I just think that the situation raises the question of where the art, rather than the business, shall go from here, other than down the drain. And I certainly hope that what is currently widely offered as "niche" is not the conclusive answer, because that is too frequently striclty business involving very little in terms of art. While most niche start-ups just seem to be hollow business plans serving as storefronts for generic products from Symrise, Givaudan or IFF, many of the great niche names seem to have entered a phase of stagnation. Lastly, little is to be expected of the grand old houses in terms of creative boldness, even less as they become firmly controlled LVMH subsidiaries. The vanguard will be found among small operators with a vision, be it one-person natural perfume houses or other kinds of rugged creatives who rise to the highest standards from a belief in what they are doing. And perhaps the good news is that these kinds of folks can more easily find audiences these days through web-networks, and that they have new exciting materials at hand to complement and enrich what is left of the traditional palette. CO2 extraction and the fractioning of naturals have yielded some fascinating results and while technology per se may not produce aesthetic advances, we all know the beginning of classical perfumery lay in the chemical revolution and the new methods of extraction and synthesis it yielded.
This brings me to Undergreen perfumes, a project launched by two French fellows, Patrice Cardenoso und Jérôme Bonnet, who hired Fabrice Olivieri of Trends Lab to create their two perfumes, White and Black. Since I translated their PR material from English into German, you may consider me biased, as well as competent to judge its quality, which I found problematic linguistically and in style. I wish even smaller houses would realize the necessity of investing effort and money into well-made, culturally sensitive translations of their ad copy - it represents them and falls back on them when producing undesired chuckles rather than an atmosphere of luxury and desirability. Undergreen does not hold back with bathos when celebrating its unique selling point: embodying a new style of natural perfumery rejecting "aromatherapeutic" "new-age" aesthetics for a contemporary, trendy niche-style while scrupulously emphasizing natural origins and sustainable practices. It reminds me a bit of Ernest Callenbach's "Ecotopia," a very American ecological novel from the 70s which fuses faith in technology and Yankee ingenuity with Hippie eco-counterculture. Or of Steve Jobs. Yes, fans of Apple aesthetics will love these perfumes, too. Now this sounds like and could verily be just another marketing angle in an increasingly crowded market of high-end perfumery, but to my nose, the concept actually works and is genuinely reflected in the perfumes. I do not know to what extent the naturals employed here are manipulated in spinning cone columns or the like, but the fact ist: Black and White smell like throroughly trendy niches, without sporting what I find obnoxious about thoroughly trendy niches. Black is certainly not nearly as saturnine as the ad copy may suggest. As someone reared on truly dark vintage scents I would class this as easy-to-wear and downright pleasant. It's a bit like a de luxe version of mat; very male with its black licorice notes - but in high resolution 3-D quality. Plus there's a nice phenolic "Islay Malt" birch (and Oud?) note. In sum Black is a moderate-to-light and very pleasant modern gourmand fragrance, which excels by taking a trendy melange of notes (coffee, incense, oud, guajac) to a higher level by avoiding the usual synthetic suspects.  As a classicist I could use more murkiness, skankiness etc. here, but that's not the point - it's that this is a well-made, beautifully smelling scent in a contemporary style. I'm impressed. The same logic applies to White. It's a white (surprise!) floral (jasmine, ylang, tuberose, orange blossom, iris are all there) of great transparency, spiced up with minty zest and coconut. Touches all the bases of hipness but goes on to score a home-run quality-wise. I think it beats nasomatto's Narcotic Venus to a pulp (although it's much less muscular).
In sum, I believe Undergreen are making a meaningful addition to the perfume market and one of the most interesting launches this year (note: I was only paid for translating, not for writing this - but in any event, smell for yourself). Next, the queen of transparency, Mme. Giacobetti should work for these guys (not to diminish the accomplishment of Fabrice Olivieri in the least). I'd love to see her rendition of a green fougère in this line.

The Fall of Creed

One of the interesting aspects about the house of Creed is its unusually large portfolio of gentlemen's scents. Creed is, in fact, a house men are a good deal more enthusiastic (and quarrelsome) about than women and much of its image seems targeted at aspirational males. While I will happily acknowledge the quality of Jasmine Impératrice Eugénie, Fleurs de Thé Bulgarie, Ambre Cannelle, Angélique Encense (all of which can easily be worn by men, of course) Creed's reputation to me rests primarily on a series of very classicist masculine/unisex scents, most of which were conceived between 1975 and 1985, when Cool Water's pre-incarnation Green Irish Tweed announced a shift towards a modern citrus-aquatic and a more noticeably mainstream synthetic style embodied by Millésime Impériale, Royal Water, Silver Mountain Water, Himalaya, Original Vetiver and Santal and others (Bois du Portugal of 1987, as well as Neroli Sauvage and Royal Delight of 1994, were beautiful throwbacks to the older trad style). It is among the old school Creeds that I have found many of my most beloved autumnal scents, which rate 5 stars in my book and to which I always return. There's the soft smoky wood and sharp lavender of Bois du Portugal, the clovey-spicy herbacity of Royal Scottish Lavender; the warm sweet luxuriantly fruity Royal English Leather and its florally augmented cousin Royal Delight; the blend of outdoorsy naturalness and high end barbershop sophistication of Baie de Genièvre Feuilles de Canneliers (juniper and cinnamon); the pomander-potpourri glory of Orange Spice, the green and creamy Mysore beauty of Bois de Santal and the stunning complexity of the sweet, harsh, floral, spicy, warm, manly and formal Vintage Tabarôme. Perfect companions for thick cashmere sweaters, rough vintage Tweeds and elegant tuxedos I could do with no more than these thoughout the dark, but festive season and feel both perfectly well-groomed, elegant and comfortably insulated from the elements a well as being aesthetically attuned to them. These essences, brimming with fine naturals and eloquently quoting the traditions of 19th and early 20th century craft, truly light up autumn, like an olfactory painting of a richly colored New England forest. It is thus a shame that so many of them are no longer available, or at best as limited exclusives not affordable for middle class mortals. The fact is, when I got to know Creed, the house had already long turned towards a style which I personally don't care for and the vestiges of its former philosophy are disappearing for good. I understand that a firm has to go where the money is, to an extent, and it's not with vintage fogeys. But recent company policy seems to reflect the all-to-prevalent "keeping up with the Niche-Jones" mentality of jacking up prices while moving towards a blander "John Doe niche" style that bears the marks of Givaudan or Symrise molecules rather than a master perfumer. Autumn, for all its harvest riches, can be a melancholy season. But I find some consolation that when spring comes around, there will be some other Creed classics in my collection for now: Cypres Musc, Sélection Verte, Neroli Sauvage and Bois de Cedrat are waiting in the wings. And when these are gone for good, a handful of perfumers around the world will still be there, crafting new delights, faithful to the true artisan creed. You'll read about them here.

jekyll & hyde

More news from the Eau de Cologne front. Askett & English is a recently launched firm from Marlow in bucolic Buckinghamshire. Askett is the name of a nearby hamlet, not one of the owners, The double name  is supposed to suggest English (fragrance) tradition (think Turnbull & Asser in shirts, Dege & Skinner in suits and of course the high end Czech & Speake, the mid-range Truefitt & Hill, or the TK Maxx bargain bin favorite Asquith & Somerset), as do the restrained packaging (slightly reminiscent of the old Crabtree & Evelyn) and the copy on the website. The Cologne duo of "Essential" and "Absolute" is currently available in Britain at Les Senteurs, outfitters Harvie & Hudson and a number of other reputable addresses. A&E dons the mantles of "artisan perfumery," the "tradition of classic cologne,"and "rare quality and taste." A tall order for a fragrance start-up, but we saw Grossmith pull it off (admittedly, with a long, rich history to draw upon).

Is all this backed up by the fragrances? I believe not. Essential and Absolute (strange names for Eau de Colognes, is this a borrowing from Atelier's "Cologne's Absolue" concept?) are actually a bit Jekyll & Hyde for me. The former is a decent aromatic citrus, the official notes being lemon, bergamot, aromatic herbs, lavender, jasmine, tonka, cedar, vetiver. There's nothing English about it in style, the most obvious reference to me being Goutal's Eau du Sud (A & E do in fact refer to their scents "recalling summers spent in Italy and France."). Essential pales in direct comparison, both in construction, which shows synthetic tailends compared to the flawless natural impression of Eau du Sud, and oil quality. It's a crowded genre to begin and Essential lacks both the ambition to compete with the very best in the field and a new twist which would set it apart from many similar fragrances. I'd roughly class it with Taylor of Old Bond Street quality-wise, who sell at a third of the price of A&E. 

Absolute is a 90s aquatic citrus, pure international style with nothing Britsh or traditional about it. The light bergamot note is overpowered by a generic synthetic cocktail to produce the typical fabric softener effect known from Gendarme and a gazillion other fragrances and "fresh-fragranced" products. If you're a fan of Truefitt & Hill scents, i.e. like the whole Victorian packaging bit but actually prefer a modern aquatic vibe in your fragrance, then this might be for you. As everyone who knows my tastes is aware of, I cannot stand aquatics and this one is no exception. At least it comes cheaper than Serge Lutens' cruel joke, the ridiculously redundant L'Eau. 

A & E has chosen a currently very tight market for itself, with every fragrance house and their grandmother having  issued an Eau de Cologne in recent years. All I can say is good luck.

Meanwhile, my off-the-cuff recommendations for "fortified" Colognes remain:

Monsier Balmain (lemon/bergamot)

Guerlain AA Pamplelune (Grapefruit)

MPG pour le jeune homme (neroli)

MPG Fraiche Baidane (lime, mandarin)

Annick Goutal Eau du Sud or Detaille Aeroplane (aromatic citrus)

Eau Sauvage (bergamot)

Eau de Guerlain (simply brilliant) 

     

jitterbug perfume from a garden of delights

Natural perfumer Anya McCoy is a witch, which obviously should be understood as a compliment. It doesn't require mentioning that her creations do not smell like typical synthetic-plus-natural products, but they also transcend the aromatherapy clichés of many natural fragrances. In fact, they speak of a deep wisdom about all manner of plants, as the herb women of yore passed it on from generation to generation. Thus witch (did you know the Royal Mail even features a lovely witch on a stamp? It's Nanny Ogg from Sir Terry Pratchett's Discworld, a character worthy of emulation by all of us).
I like to believe that I would smell this wisdom in Anya's perfumes even without knowing about her magic garden in Florida, her ethnobotanical studies and long involvement in organic gardening. They have a certain "je ne sais quoi" that comes about when people genuinely and deeply live what they do ( I'm not being paid for writing this, though please note the samples were provided free of charge :-) ).

I'll be posting about several fragrances from "Anya's Garden" in weeks to come, but Pan deserves an article of its own. It brought a smile to my face the first time I smelled it and still does. Why? Well, for starters, it's a very nice, classic ambery Fougère made from superb materials. That's a good and rare thing and I'm giving bonus points to every perfume these days that will not clobber my nose with cheapo synthetic redundancies because the perfumer had no budget, no time or no more ideas (oh yes, I'm talking $$$$ niche here, not drugstore stuff).

But there's more, beyond the dusty green opening (cedar, hay, lavender), a strong, but really good, non-headshop patchouli that picks up on the dryness and builds a bridge to the gently sweetened beeswaxy drydown (but nothing here is sticky in the least). That "more" is the (billy) goat's hair tincture amply discussed by all reviewers of this scent, which makes the whole thing "Pan out" (cough!). It's not skanky - you have to deduct the droppings, pee and other barnyard details from the animal. This may be a rutty goat, but it is proudly-standing-on-top-of-Olympus-Mons-clean. It's not even erotically animalic (at least in an obvious way), as the homage to Tom Robbins' ribald novel Jitterbug Perfume would suggest, but really quite well-behaved  - definitely there, though, and certainly recognizable if you've spent time around hairy animals. It also seems to modulate the other notes and works nicely to harmonize them in Pan, as it perfectly connects with the coumarinic aspect of the lavender and the leafy-earthy patchouli. Pan can be applied generously, as sillage is rather moderate and it isn't too lasting either (the presence after an hour is very subtle). Great fun while it lasts though, just as those encounters with the horned God, and a beautiful perfume for men and venturous women which one should have around if only to sniff the bottle. My only suggestion would be to release a flanker (Pan-Demonium?) which would sufficiently dirty the original up in the direction of Jicky to create a flat-out erotic variant - a challenge when avoiding civet, but I really think Billy the goat is full of potential. 

Image courtesy of Wikimedia Commons (http://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/commons/a/aa/PanandDaphnis.jpg)

Dukes of Pall Mall - Greetings from the Victorian 1980s

Some people would say I have a Dukes of Pall Mall fetish. I can only reply that these perfumes justify it.
Dukes of Pall Mall comes across as a venerable gentlemen's establishment in the style of Trumper's, and as much is suggested by the little accompanying leaflet, which states, in carefully chosen words, that "Dukes of Pall Mall continue to compound toiletry preparations for private warrant...based upon these original formulae" of the Regency period. In fact it would seem the enterprise was launched in the 1980s with a faux patina. The company was incorporated on July 21, 1982 and in 1983 Country Life magazine announced the launch of the only two known product ranges by the firm, Cotswold and Belgravia, a town and country pair of scents clearly evoking the traditional style of English perfumery by name as well as by their composition. I am aware of cologne, after shave and after shave balms under these names and from what one occasionally reads on shaving fora they aqcuired a good reputation amongst the small circle of Anglophile traditional shaving aficionados, though the firm did not hold out very long. By 1989 the company was held by one Terence Revill who operated from his home. I acquired versions of both colognes from this era through ebay (recognizable by the Harrow address, rather than the 46-47 Pall Mall of the old flacons) and the quality was noticeably inferior. My first encounter with Dukes had consisted in the blind purchase of a number of bottles of Cotswold aftershave through online beauty discounter direct cosmetics (from whence harked my first Crown perfumery scents, as well). I was stunned from the moment I smelled this beautiful juice, a quintessential old-fashioned citrus-floral that blows most of the other "traditional English" survivors out of the water due to the incredible quality of its ingredients. That, for some time, has been a problematic issue with houses such as Floris, Penhaligon's or Taylors of Old Bond Street (of which only the latter commensurately offer their products at a bargain price), who frequently sell fragrances related to their original formulations only by name and are of vastly inferior quality. Dukes, however went all-out on top-notch ingredients, something that admittedly was a lot easier to do in 1983 than 25 years later. A lovely citrus top (bergamot, lime, verbena?) is followed up by an utterly beautiful accord of jasmine and ylang that never fails to entirely captivate my senses - particularly, for some reason, in the Aftershave version. It is so stunning that the light woody-musky base remains a mere afterthought. Cotswold is a sublime perfume which could not possibly be bested as the fragrant complement to a fine country suit, or even a blue chalk-stripe city outfit, but in today's perfume context it would equally well adorn a dandy. 
Belgravia is supposedly based on a formula from the 1860s, but it is in fact a classic and beautiful fougère with a 1980s vibe. I cannot get over how close it comes to Penhaligon's recent Sartorial - if you subtract the modern ozonic elements from the latter and imagine it done with really good raw materials. Both are orientalized fougères, featuring lavender, floral notes, patchouli, spice, moss, coumarin and most characteristically a wonderful warm spicy-sweet heart (of beeswax in Sartorial and oppoponax in Belgravia). I do not actually find it particularly urban(e), but nearly romantic, though it is unquestionably sophisticated, elegant and never gets loud. In the context of 1980s powerhouse extremes it would perhaps seem lean and clean. The quality, if perhaps not the complexity of the composition, I find to be on par with the famed Patou pour homme - whoever created these beauties was a master of the art who knew his or her stuff. In fact it appears that none other than John Stephen of Czech & Speake fame authored Cotswold and that certainly makes sense. 
It is a shame that more perfume lovers with a taste for vintage styles cannot smell and wear these lost Victorian treasures of the 1980s. I will let slip here, though, that I have lately smelled a new version of Belgravia, but that's all I can say for now. As for the unknown entrepeneur who launched Dukes of Pall Mall with a sense of history and quality, if not enough good fortune (hello, Gobin-Daudé), here's three cheers and a royal salute for creating two gems of English perfumery.     

almost summer: atelier cologne

I have always been fascinated by Eau de Cologne, which in its apparent simplicity is a great challenge to any perfumer. As his correspondence and notes show, the inventor of Eau de Cologne, Johann Maria Farina, was obsessed with the quality of raw materials and oils, their distillation, blending and maturation and I believe it still holds today that in no fragrance genre is quality, and a reliance on the best naturals in particular, more important. I was quite excited to read about Atelier Cologne, which appeared on the scene in 2009/10 in the wake of the Eau de Cologne renaissance which has seen houses great and small coming forth with classic or modern waters (many of which I found to dismally fail the "Farina test"). The concept behind Atelier is to build on classic Eau de Cologne types, but increase the perfume concentration, so as to provide the desired freshness and lightness without compromising on longevity (thus avoiding Napoeleon syndrome, .i.e. dousing yourself with 20 bottles of EdC daily). This is a wonderful and challenging idea which has a few predecessors, such as Eau Sauvage (classic EdC plus Hedione), Eau de Guerlain, and a number of very accomplished scents by Maitre Parfumeur et Gantier's scents (e.g. Pour le Jeune Homme is a classic neroli cologne amped up to EdT status). But Sylvie Ganter and Christopher Cervasel are the first to build an entire house around high powered Eau de Cologne and it seems they are doing well. The fact that they are cooperating with quality suppliers Mane and Robertet, known for first rate naturals, increased my excitement. 

The free samples I graciously received were beautifully packed with postcard still lifes visualizing each scent and a brief prose fragment adding words. A great idea, the photography is well done, while the prose (in the English version) could use a little improvement in my opinion (but those are fine points).

The fragrances themselves,I feel, promise more than they deliver - but I must add that what I seek in an EdC, contrary to other perfumes, is not so much art, but a perfect referencing of nature. That's one reason why I feel the EdCs by Chanel and Lutens are monumental failures, apart from the fact that they smell like cheap bathroom products. But on to Atelier Cologne's foursome:

After a hesitant start, perfumer Ralf Schwieger's Orange Sanguine blossoms into a zesty, mouth-watering, true-to-life blood orange, but a pasteurized-juice feel soon catches up on this beautiful moment and when the florals set in, it becomes pure hotel soap, slightly reminiscent of Roger & Gallet's Extra-Vieille, in fact. That's nice, if you like it, but not what I seek in an Eau de Cologne and also not good enough for the money charged.

Top notes:	Blood orange, bitter orange
Heart notes:	Jasmine, geranium from South Africa
Base notes:	Amber woods, tonka beans, sandalwood

Trèfle Pur: A limey-citrus green with dusky notes. It lacks the purity of something like the body-splash like Extract of Limes by Geo. F. Trumper and will inevitably remind some folks of washing up liquid.  It quickly veers into shampoo or beauty-product terrain. I simply expect more from niche, though I know I rarely get it. 

Top notes:	Bitter orange, cardamon, basilic
Heart notes:	Clover absolute, violet leaves, Tunisian neroli
Base notes:	Patchouli, moss, musk

Grand Néroli is nice, as most nerolis are, but a bit too musky for my taste. The drydown has some smokey-amber which works well, but the scent is not convincing, becoming too intrusively synthetic as it progresses. Doesn't hold a stick to Xerjoff's Kobe quality-wise, but then virtually nothing else does in my book. Of the four sampled Ateliers, it is nonetheless my favorite.

Top notes: Moroccan neroli, chilled lemon, Sicilian bergamot, petitgrain Heart notes: Persian galbanum, moss, birch leaves Base notes: Clean musk, white amber, vanilla from Madagascar

Bois Blond is so extremely faint I suspect I am anosmic to some key ingredient. I smell pure spirit at the outset, and then a weak synthetic dark wood note. It just doesn't happen.
Official pyramid:

Top notes:	Tunisian neroli, pink pepper
Heart notes:	Moroccan orange flower, incense
Base notes:	Blond woods, musks, vetiver from Haiti

The Atelier colognes include some nice notes, but it is not one note that bryngeth summer - or maketh good cologne. The feeling of a really high-end, refreshing, natural Eau de Cologne isn't there, while the intensity and duration is not all that great in turn. The idea is great, the esthetic is accomplished, but I feel these scents will only satisfy, if you're looking for rather conventional fragrances on the light, fresh side. Personally, for the genuine Eau de Cologne experience, I'll stick with the classics and a few all-natural scents.

confessions of an anglophile

This was going to be a jovial little piece of perfume writing on the defunct house of Dukes of Pall Mall, the origin of my blog moniker and a bit of a fetish of mine - not just because their two perfumes, Cotswold and Belgravia, were indeed amazingly well-made, high-quality fragrances, but because I harbor an irrational fondness for the faded culture of the English gentleman and chap. A figure which could still instill hatred and mockery in the 70s as a principal symbol of British classism (Monty Python's upper class twit sketch would be a classic example)  but has meanwhile become so marginal it can actually now serve as a position from which to satirically and self-ironically observe the new inanities of  cool Britannia - witness chap hop. As London is once again burning, and a whole lot of other places, I started to wonder to what extent the inflexibility of the class system, in which the insignias of gentility from Savile Row suits to a shave at Trumper's were vital cultural capital, has contributed to the current malaise - Britain taking last place among all developed nations in terms of social mobility is a telling fact. What I didn't wonder about for a moment, was the extent to which 30 years of unbridled neoliberalism, whether of the Tory or New Labour variety, have turned much of the sceptere'd isle into a social wasteland of consumerist zombies (a fact the brilliant Shaun of the Dead made abundantly clear in the most hilarious way possible). In fact, these emotionally numbed mobs destroying their very own communities, armed with blackberries, apolitical, antisocial, narcissistic to the core, with nothing on their mind but loot, since their value system exclusively revolves around generating self-worth through sporting vaunted consumer goods (cultural capital!) are simply the underclass version of city bankers, brokers and hedgefund managers who have torched thousands of communities and wrecked innumerable businesses while piling up bonuses. These rioters are not rising up against the system, they are emulating it with the available means at hand. City bankers and Croydon wankers, tearing apart society from both ends.
Back to perfume (sort of): I say this not in self-defense of a personal favorite: but the old-fashioned classism embodied by Dukes of Pall Mall looks almost quaint beside the shallow and vain "American Psycho" consumerism of "luxe pour luxe" vanity, represented, for one, by the inanely priced Clive Christian fragrances, and the niche perfumery business as a whole, which, let's face it, has fed heavily upon the massive redistribution of wealth from the many to the few which has been going on in the US and UK for decades under the guise of free markets, deregulation, tax cuts for those who don't need them and other Chicago School oddities. Those with less and less money keep up the facade of middle-class affluence by piling up debt and the ones with nothing will evidently smash windows.   Economically, socially and psychologically, the hyper-consumerism of postmodern capitalism has become a dead end. Replacing communities (public space) with shopping malls (consumer space), self-improvement with self-gratification and emotions with commodities is turning people (and then their neighborhoods) into burned-out wrecks, self- and world-loathing sociopaths or, at best, alienated shopping junkies.
Is a new asceticism the answer? Hardly. There's plenty of drabness in Tottenham already. Apart from the political necessity of restoring true social democracy, i.e. a society sincerely aiming to include, to meet out social justice and ensure true equality of opportunity through education and public services, we need to turn to enlightened hedonism, to indulge in pleasures that put us in touch with ourselves rather than providing surrogates for real life. I'm not saying that Utopia will be achieved by way of Guerlain. But if you can learn to see the beauty of a perfume, rather than its worth as cultural capital, perhaps you can also learn to see the beauty in yourself, rather than accepting the S&P rating you're stamped with by society. And people who can accept themselves as they are have no need to vent an inner rage on others, or establish their worth through symbolic consumption, whether as shopaholics or looters. Stop burning down houses, start burning credit cards, then go smell some roses.        

Sharif Giveaway - and the winner is...

Thanks for all your comments on  the ideal contemporary oriental and for participating in the first state of the [car]nation prize draw. From the 17 comments (not counting mine) one was drawn by using the services of random.org. And the happy winner is Mikael, the last commentator. Congratulations on winning a truly fabulous fragrance - you have been contacted on basenotes :).
To everyone who played: the best of luck for the next giveaway! I hope you'll be dropping in now and then, there will be more reviews, reflections and draws coming! 

Fragrare aude! (Dare to smell good)
The Duke of Pall Mall

Sharif - a new fragrance by la via del profumo and a bottle giveaway!

Anyone with an interest in natural perfume will be acquainted with Dominique Dubrana aka AbdesSalaam Attar and his perfume house La Via del Profumo located in Rimini, Italy, but known to most of us through the Internet. Apparently it was a Dubrana's perfumes that converted Luca Turin from thorough skepticism about natural perfumery to appreciating its possibilities - no mean feat. Since synthetics are what provides bone structure in modern (i.e. post 1880) perfumery to the natural oils' "flesh," natural perfumes often come across as spineless hodgepodges failing to bring any kind of artful arrangement to notes, that would transform them from at best smelling "pleasant" into works of true beauty and refinement. Dubrana's creations, however, are characterized by a crystalline clarity that reveals a meaningful order among the blended essences and generates images and ideas in the mind, as a great perfume should. At the same time they benefit from the aesthetic advantage of natural perfumes - the avoidance of the shrill redundancy which now characterizes far too many perfumes which wear their synthetic nature on their sleeve, all bones, like anorexic fashion models.  His last fragrance, Mecca Balsam already showed how well suited this approach is to the oriental genre, which can so easily decline into a brash affair of sticky florals, screaming amber and wood synthetics and nose-numbing Yankee-candle vanillin. The new release, Sharif, which initiates a series of oriental-themed fragrances aimed at Middle-Eastern tastes, confirms it.
"Sharif is the scent of a noble Arab Sheik who chose the supreme elegance instead of the show of wealth, kindness and seduction instead of arrogance. In the pure tradition of the Middle East, Sharif consists of intense notes of leather and aromatic woods with the delicious aroma of amber scents of the East, and sweet almond," the perfumer tells us. It is, first of all, a wonderfully pleasant perfume and an ideal entry into the world of natural perfumery, as it is much more accessible than the starkly meditative, distantly elegant Mecca Balsam. The latter requires study before you can deeply appreciate it, while Sharif provides pure pleasure even before you begin investigating its complexity. There is a perfect harmony of spice and sweetness, dryness and deftness, of clarity and density, the slender elegance of a minarett and the opulence of a plate of Arabian sweets. The dry craggy resins of Mecca Balsam's pilgrimage are here enveloped in smooth delicious amber. Imagine yourself being entertained in the golden tent of an Arab nobleman, the scent of fine resins rising from incense burners, eating honey and almond cakes while a pipe rests by your side and a distant smell of leather saddle and noble horses wafts over from the stables. You are at peace, but you feel energy brimming inside you. New deeds of your own choosing await, but for now, you enjoy the tranquil flow of life and its pleasures.

Since words will never do such a beautiful fragrance justice, here is your opportunity to smell Sharif for yourself. Courtesy of AbdesSalaam Attar, state of the [car]nation is giving away a 32ml bottle of Sharif which is not only worth over €100 but might also seriously transform your perceptions of the oriental genre of perfumes. All you have to do to enter this contest, is to write a commentary below this article in which you outline your vision of "your perfect 21st century oriental fragrance." The winner will be drawn at random from all such entries. Please make sure you leave a contact in your comment that will enable me to e-mail you in case of winning. The contest will close a week from now on Tuesday at 16.00 CET and the winner will be announced and notified a day or two later. Have fun!

Eau de Beeb, the trilogy's conclusion

Somewhat belated due to a vacation break, here are my thoughts on the final episode of BBC 4's documentary Perfume. In juxtaposing a relaunched, ancient ultra-niche "family" perfumery with the market research done in Brazil for a new Axe (Lynx for Britons) product this episode picked up where episode one's Guerlain/Hilfiger contrast left off, though with higher stakes and less cliché. Though some perfumistas apparently thought of the Axe segments as a waste of time, viewers learned the significant lesson, that low-end perfumery and functional fragrance are actually the big money makers for scent and flavor producers such as Givaudan. Moreover, as exemplified by a lower middle-class Brazilian product tester, it is floor cleaners and washing-up liquid that contribute immensely to our scent socialization, not necessarily fine fragrance, and even they have an aspirational function, as in putting distance between yourself and the stench of the favelas. Finally, who would have guessed that Brazil is one of the largest and the fastest growing markets for scent in the world, and thus, like other economically fast-paced threshhold nations a key market for Western conglomerates, who will happily adapt to local fragrance culture if it only moves product. This time around, the marketing people, i.e. Ann Gottlieb, came across as a lot more competent, as well and I assume the two "young male" focus groups portrayed in the film were only representative of many more interviewed in reality. As Axe was peddled to Brazilians, so the Grossmiths were taking their wares to the Middle East, a culturally ironic offering of Victorian orientalism to actual Sheiks which gives postcolonial notions of the "Empire writing back" another turn of the screw. It was a charming and a well-engineered contrast to the ace New York PR folks in Brazil, to see Mr. Grossmith, new to perfumery and selling (but apparently guided by the marketing-savvy Roja Dove) pedaling his high quality 1001 night fantasies of yore to wealthy Bahrainis and the personal luxury assistant of the head honcho himself. Certainly this episode provided some insight into the wide economic and cultural spectrum involded when it comes to matters fragrant and while many more issues could have been addressed (especially of the kind obsessed over in perfume forums, such as IFRA, reformulation, obscene profit margins - OK the last one's just me), Ian Denyer's trilogy was a pleasure to watch and surely an eye- , or rather nose-opener, to the previously uninitiated average scent-consumer. More of this would be most welcome  

Morroco's Scented Treasures - Ecologically Certified

Prof. Dr. Jalil Belkamel talking Morrocan essential oil

There's a wonderful exhibit right now at Frankfurt's Palmengarten, a beautiful botanical garden in the heart of the city with numerous stunning tropical and other climate-zone hothouses, rose gardens and many other attractions. It is my favorite spot in the city and offers something for everybody in the family, children included. The current exhibit, called 1001 oils deals with the history, extraction and uses of plant oils, waxes and fats in medicine, craft and industry, and of course cosmetics and perfumery. As part of the exhibit there was a Moroccan week in July featuring food & drink,  music and dance, craft and touristic PR, and of course Moroccan oil prodcuts. The delicious and healthy Argan oil, the best of which is hand-produced by Berber women in the country's south, where the world's last significant population of trees exists, comes at a high price but its unique nutty flavor (from roasted nuts) is exquisite, as are its properties as a (neutral, unroasted) carrier oil for aromatherapeutic blends or massage oils. Of course Morocco is also a significant producer of neroli, as well as Mediterranean oils such as lavender, rosemary, thyme and many others. All this was explained in detail by Prof. Dr. Jalil Belkamel, one of the heads of Nectarôme, an organic producer of essential oils and cosmetics from the village of Tnine Ourika near Marrakech. Combining old herbal knowledge and traditions, contemporary aromatherapy and wellness approaches targeting Western markets, while practicing sustainable and socially responsible agriculture, this looks like the kind of model operation required to bring vital economic impulses to North Africa with its persistent poverty and lack of perspective for young people, both at the heart of much of the political unrest and massive migration to Europe, and to which simplistic modernization schemes provide no answers. For example, the mechanization and industrialization of Argan oil production proved nearly fatal to the business and to the people who had been living off of this trade for centuries, as quality deteriorated and factory owners siphoned off the profits. The Moroccan government thankfully realized this and together with a Federal German development agency managed to create an effective network of women's cooperatives that now produce the only traditional high-end Argan oil and sustain the craft of its production and the families engaged in this traditional labor.

a wild, fragrant meadow at Palmengarten

Besides enjoying the Nectarôme talk in the beautiful Berber tent pictured above, I tried some of the products and found the neroli, lavender and rose to be of excellent quality. They do not sell to the perfume industry, but I suggested they should - or develop their own natural perfume line. Well, it was a great afternoon trip to Morocco and its wonderful fragrances, flavors, sights and sounds. Now I want to go there for real.

Eau de Beeb - BBC 4's perfume documentary Part Two

Entitled "Bottling the Memory", part 2 of Ian Denyer's documentary trilogy "Perfume," continued with a transatlantic perspective, but managed to leave the clichés of the first installment behind. Focusing on several levels - two maverick perfumers, a teacher and his apprentices, a bespoke client and simple users reveling in perfumed memory, the hour was well used to convey insights into the technical, philosophical and artistic-aesthetic principles of perfume making. We saw Hermès in-house perfumer Jean-Claude Ellena pondering over a new creation for the Jardin series, inspired by the beautiful rooftop garden of the Paris boutique, working away in his Gropius-style house/lab in Southern France. We got to now Christopher "I Hate Perfume" Brosius in his Brooklyn studio and in London, researching a bespoke scent for an anglophile client (tie designer Sean Crowley) seeking the smell of "Old England." And we met Jean Guichard of the Givaudan Perfumery School (Givaudan is one of the big four scent and flavor producers) and his small band of apprentices, who dreamt romantically of creating beautiful scents, but were busy in the school of hard knocks identifying various molecules (but also strolling through lavender fields to get close to "the real"). What came across beautifully was how scent is so intimately linked to both place (Brosius talking of the specific smell of English books due to the humidity) and time (how the smell of London has changed, as leather taxi seats, smoking in pubs and phone booths with paper phone books have disappeared) - and how therefore smell and memory are often one as an encapsulation of a specific place and time. This was nicely conveyed by snippets of two women talking about their scented memories, the younger of her mom dressing up for a night out (glamor, romance), the elder about precisely such nights on the town after WWII, wearing a signature scent. Brosius and Ellena also shared fascinating memories and philosophies of scent and with such a cast of interesting characters (I think Quentin the sensitive-romantic apprentice will become a great philosopher-nose one day) the episode flew by and became a rich memory itself.

A Desert Rose Lost in Time - Paco Rabanne's Ténéré

Ténéré, a 1988 scent marketed to men composed by perfumer Pierre Wargnye, who more recently created YSL homme and Viktor & Rolf Antidote, is a beautiful failure, a risky venture undertaken at the wrong time. Naming it after a desert could not conceal the fact that this is a distinctly floral-green fragrance, something male consumers in the West tend to keep away from. Despite the strong tradition of floral aspects in gentlemanly scents to this day (sartorial scents such as Green Irish Tweed, Grey Flannel, Kiton Men still feature violet notes), the problem of male heterosexual insecurity regarding scent was still an issue in the 1980s. Moreover the metrosexual trend that would thereafter evolve sailed on acquatic unisexism rather than explicit florality. Still, Ténéré might have been seen as a bold avant-garde statement, if it weren't for the fact that it's forward-looking florality was tied to a retro-masculine vibe in the form of a notably Paco Rabanneish fougère aspect: a soapy green mediterranean masculine "trad" feel based on lavender, artemisia, tarragon, perhaps galbanum, which clearly pulls the fragrance in the direction of the Seventies. Add the animalic-indolic component in the form of honey and jasmine and this challenging fragrance, launched of all times at the dawning of the age of Cool Water's aquatic hegemony, was bound to fail.
The intact vintage bottle I own, contrary to a previous flawed miniature, is not excessively urinous, as has been said of Ténéré, but in fact balances all components quite well. From a 21st century perspective there is nothing even remotely girlish about this scent, despite the notable presence of rose and muguet. It smells debonair, distinguished, romantic - and decidedly unmodern due to its green-herbal complex. The base is high quality, a powdery melange of masculine wood and spice with soapy florals. Ténéré never was and never will be a popular fragrance , but I believe it could be the signature scent of the most interesting man in the world.

Notes:
top: bergamot, cassia, green notes, grapefruit, lavender, rosemary, lemon
heart: anise, artemisia, tarragon, honey, orris, jasmine, muguet, carnation, rose, cinnamon
base: amber, leather, musk, patchouli, vetiver, cedar

Eau de Beeb - BBC 4's perfume documentary

This documentary by Ian Denyer, a rare occasion of perfume being featured in the mainstream media in a non-PR function, was eagerly anticipated by the perfumista community. Part 1, "Something Old, Something New" ran on the 28th of June and is available online (see link - if you are not in the UK, a software named Expat Shield may be of service).

So, how was it? Entertaining yes, challenging, no.  Perhaps the dramatizing reality-TV inspired "docu-soap" format is the most one can hope for these days from TV. The style was very much akin to the BBC Savile Row documentary, which juxtaposed traditional Savile Row bespoke tailors with textile giant Abercrombie & Fitch (and omitted some fine detail in the process). Here the old-world de luxe house of Guerlain, stuck in the early 20th century, is compared with hypermarketing US giant Estée Lauder creating a new perfume for the Tommy Hilfiger brand.

It's infotainment rather than a "serious" documentary, which would have dwelt on Guerlain's transformation from independent perfume house to LVMH subsidiary and the consequences for its perfume policy. These things are only gently hinted at in the form of a new Shalimar flanker aimed at "opening the door" to a classic for younger women. Dramatizing the story as a contest between a genteel French perfume culture, embodied by the withering gentleman Jean Paul Guerlain doting about in his chateau, and American big business represented by shallow marketing execs mouthing platitude after platitude is playing on popular clichés, while ignoring the global nature of mass market capitalism as it defines the perfume (and every other big) business everywhere. This is a a distortion I'm not happy about (though well acquainted with) as a scholar of transatlantic perceptions.

That said, chief perfumer Thierry Wasser's attachment to Guerlain (the person and the company tradition) came across as very deep and sincere and his consternation in the wake of Guerlain's racist gaffe was painful to watch (and a golden moment for filmmakers seeking to capture big emotions - blech). It was also interesting to observe the Hilfiger campaign people scrambling about - quite amateurishly - in view of the heap of redundant nothingness that Loud (for him, at least) turned out to be. Why somebody as talented as Aurelien Guichard has to be hired to produce a 100% generic formula, exept for PR purposes perhaps, is beyond me.

The really fun part was Chandler Burr, who was fresh, intelligent and honest. In a less respectful documentary they would have let Burr judge "Loud" in the end to give an idea of how a modern-day marketing machine is basically about noisily selling hot air (or worse).

All in all, part 1 clearly falls short of truly informed and critically informative documentary work, which a multi-billion dollar industry should certainly be worthy of. Still non-perfumistas will have learned one or two new things. I enjoyed the program, but one day I'd like to see a hard-nosed documentary on the perfume business.

wodka oud

Wodka sales have exploded in recent years, while the market for other spirits, such as Scotch, is stagnant. "Vodka is odorless, colorless, tasteless, and highly mixable. You need a strong image because it's fairly commoditized." says a beverage exec in a Business Week piece on the trend. Oud seems to be fast becoming perfumery's wodka, or shall we say, the development this Asian elixir long prized in the Arab world is taking under the hands of Western commodifiers resembles the slippery slope from a complex Scottish single malt bursting with character towards a neutral spirit which only differs from water in being alcoholic. It's the Wodkafication of Aloeswood, Aoudh, Eaglewood and what else it is called. When Montale started to make this potion accessible to Westerners (after a bold early exploration in YSL's M7) it provided a respectful rendition of the real thing, particularly in the flagship Black Oud. Strong, not quite as wild or good as high end natural ouds, but beautifully blended with rose, rather static, yet highly intriguing and pleasing. When the big players (Givaudan, Firmenich et al) started offering "instant oud" bases, the usual trend cycle kicked into gear, everyone and their grandma suddenly issuing Ouds. But just how oud are they? Bond's signature anniversary fragrance was unfortunately not odorless, but certainly oudless, smelling more like a cheap drugstore perfume than bottled luxury (white musk from hell). By Kilian's Pure Oud is neither pure nor oud, but the umpteenth rehash of Comme des Garcons' once avantgarde incense series, a papery-grey-velvety iso-e-super soup so utterly banal that Calice Becker must have put it together during a five minute coffee break. While sipping really bad coffee. In a sour mood. With a hangover (you get the point... and please note that experts disagree). Wodka popularity and oud corruption, as well as the fact  that my bill at the grocer's today ran € 6.66 are clear indications the end of the world is near (or was that last Saturday?) or at least that culture as such is still continually in decline - but being an open midend skeptic rahter than a cynic, I hope Mona di Orio's new Oud will live up to intimations that it's a really heavy hitter and thus prove Spengler wrong once again.

Above picture showes Vodka Extreme EdP for Men by Paris Elysées, which may or may not smell cheap, but at least is so.

Penhaligon's Shenanigans

I'd love to own a suit by Norton & Sons. That's the Savile Row bespoke tailoring establishment featured in Penhaligon's campaign for their most recent release Sartorial. The choice makes sense as Norton's current owner Patrick Grant is trying to straddle the low-key conservatism and discretion that defines Savile Row houses and the contemporary branding necessary to keep an operation in the black these days. Penhaligon's, while no longer British-owned, plays on its Victorian heritage, while its fragrances have meanwhile become quite contemporary and certainly lack the exclusivity - and sadly too often the quality - of a £ 5000 suit. If I were managing this house, I'd release a nearly-all-natural, über-quality line of historical scents at £ 1000 a pop to show Creed and Clive Christian what luxury REALLY means and build some neo-Victorian upstairs-only cachet - but that's a different story. Quite. For as Octavian Coifan has argued, convincingly, I believe, Sartorial is really Marks & Sparks in bespoke drag, i.e. a very nice, middle-brow 1970s fougère with a Duchaufour update and a touch of luxury. When I "haze" Sartorial on, I can look past the modernist metallic ozonism which is supposed to represent the shears and steam of a tailor's workshop. Applied directly last week, though, this Eau de Toilette went through an uncanny evolution on my skin. It started off smelling like some cheap toilet cleaner, the likes of which is encountered in public buildings, schools etc. Just nasty no-budget functional perfumery stuff - forget all the fancy bespoke imagery. It next progressed to a poor-man's Burt Reynolds retro-macho-cheapo-deodorant product. Slowly it approached the level of haute - well, sort of - parfumerie (cheap Rive Gauche knock off?). At last (all this was taking much too long considering the price tag) the high quality beeswax note started to take over and things fell into their proper place to make a nice, allround masculine with a touch of elegance. And curiously reminiscent of Dukes of Pall Mall's Belgravia, a forgotten EdT from 1983 which is also a beeswaxy fougère, but made from far better materials. What I learned from this is firstly, that Sartorial is the kind of fragrance for me, where mode of application is a vital factor and secondly, that I will wear Belgravia with my Savile Row suit. Which is not from Norton & Sons, but a vintage (of course) piece by James&James.

How to wear chocolate in January

Get yourself a package of Michel Cluizel's Noir Infini, 99% cocoa, chocolate pastilles (they call them minigrammes). The 1-kilogram bag is a mere 20 Euros at my store - affordable luxury. Dissolve them in milk (I use 3 teaspoons for 200ml, adding about a teaspoon of raw cane sugar. I do this in a teflon-coated pan to avoid excessive burnt-milk-pot-cleaning procedures). Stir with a whisk and bring to a very brief boil. Pour into cup. If you like, use a milk frother to whip it up further. You'll notice, though, that this chocolate has a voluptuous texture all by itself, usually achieved in such products by emulsifiers and thickeners. Cluizel does not use soy lecithin or anything else. The flavor is rich, full-bodied, intense, complex and immensely satisfying - and the 99% cocoa means you can individually temper the sweetness.
Now, put on a spitz of Lutens Borneo 1834 or Coromandel (my choices), Il Profumo Chocolat Amer or Amen/Angel, relax in your favorite compfy chair and revel in sensuous delight. If you really want to intellectually distract yourself from this sensory reverie, you can pick up Maricel Presilla's wonderful book on chocolate.

Essentially Me - Sensuous Innocence, Rigorous Classicism and Hot Stuff

For today's look at essential oil merchant and craft perfumer Alec Lawless' creative work, here are three decidedly feminine scents by Essentially Me that really won me over. What unites all of them is that the predominance of naturals de-caricaturizes fragrance styles which have become utter freaks by the use of cheap and frequently loud substitute synthetics in mainstream perfumery, often ending as drugstore shadows of what they used to be. Here they are restored to classic beauty.

Classique:

Is it ever. So much so you really need to be somewhat mature, favour a conservative wardrobe and think of the Beatles as new-fangled. That soapy clove embedding florals will always remind me of the distinguished, friendly elderly ladies that doted about our neighbourhood when I was a child. A pleasing memory, but not one for me to wear.

Heart: floral rose

Nuance: citrus

Intrigue: fresh herb and spice.

Notes:
Rose otto, rose de mai, orange blossom, neroli, ylang, geranium Bourbon, jasmine
Bergamot, green mandarin, petitgrain
Coriander, bay, clove bud, vetivert Bourbon.

White Blooms:

This is innocent and sexy in an intelligent manner Audrey Hepburn would have loved. Such a pleasure, also, to be smelling white blossoms rather than screechy-blaring-in-your-face “WHITE BLOSSOMS.” Like the milky bosom of a Courbet canvas compared to Hollywood’s contemporary silicon balloons, sensuous, yet tasteful.

Heart: delicate white floral

Nuance: soft green balsam

Intrigue: warm woody.

Notes:
White Champac, orange blossoms, pink lotus, jasmine.
Absolutes of hay and beeswax
Sandalwood, frankincense, benzoin resin

La Joupe (dedicated to our British fragrance friends)

I’m afraid that under the new UK austerity policy this fragrance will soon be outlawed, as it is simply too buxom and voluptuous a floriental to be tolerated. The neroli-tuberose-jasmine-ylang axis is incredibly sexy, warm and opulent, but the naturals play out their strength here, in that the composition never descends into gaudiness. It’s Liz Taylor before the Seventies. It’s also just the right scent to seduce men, politicians included, so maybe we could reconsider that austerity bit, eh, darlings David & Nick?

Heart: heady floral

Nuance: Oriental

Intrigue: musky.

Notes
Tuberose, orange blossoms, jasmine, patchouli, ylang
Vetivert bourbon, frankincense, guaiacwood, labdanum, tonka, oakmoss, vanilla

Essentially Me - Hi, I'm Amber

In the perfume neighbourhood, Amber is the girl next door who could be so much fun if only she wasn’t so bland, so vanilla, so boooring. And yet she insistently hangs around your house and seems impossible to ignore. Thankfully there are some people who remember it’s about sugar AND spice. Serge Lutens’ Ambre Sultan is my favorite amber because that girl got' herb. Happily, Essentially Me’s Amber is her own spice girl, too. It’s the mint and thyme in particular that raised my eyebrows and spirits. Plus an amber not totally overdosed on Ambroxan and related drugs is always a genuine relief. The end result is an interesting, masculine-tilted, but entirely unisex potion recommended to all who wish to escape the drudgery of mainstream amberdom.

The notes as given by Essentially Me:

Heart: masculine floral
Nuance: balsamic incense
Intrigue: herbs and spice

Mint, caraway, thyme
Jasmine, lavender, rose, clary sage
Labdanum, frankincense, sandalwood, myrrh, vanilla, patchouli.

Happy New Year

To those still reading - know ye, that I fave found blogging in the traditional style incompatible with a life of overwork, child-rearing, and hassling winter bugs. I guess I'll just settle for for the occasional perfume-historical or cultural essay, though I will try to regularly discuss interesting vintage and lesser-discussed contemporary scents. On that note, a happy new year, live long and prosper and may you always smell good! I'll be posting more "Essentially Me" review this week and we shall see where things move from there.

Sincerely and olfactorily yours
The Duke of Pall Mall