Paris Is For Perfume Lovers: Part 3 - Meeting Denyse Beaulieu And The Undinas

Day 3 was dry (hurrah!), and I decided to wear my T K Maxx Toast dress or bust (I am of that age - I shall wear purple!), teamed with a pair of unsensible shoes.  I had arranged to hook up with Denyse Beaulieu (of Grain de Musc and The Perfume Lover fame) for coffee that morning in the 17e district - this was technically not a blind date, as I had briefly talked to her at the launch of Séville à L'aube in London last year.  Greetings over, I lost no time in apologising for the fact that I was wearing the same outfit as the last time she had met me.  'I do have other clothes.' I piped up staunchly.

The three most memorable aspects of my meeting with Denyse were firstly her silver sunglasses, a perfect match for her now luxuriantly long ('fifty shades of grey') hair.  Then there was the surprise fact that she is acquainted with the widow of Alain Robbe-Grillet, an avant-garde French author I studied at university, and thirdly - and most tantalisingly - she had just come back from a press junket the day before, held in a marquee on a rocky promontory in the wilds of Brittany.  The company's in-house perfumer had regaled them with nuggets about his portfolio of materials, while the assembled guests enjoyed a delicious lunch against an idyllic backdrop of waves lapping the shore and glinting in the sunlight.  Her evocative description of the scene made me want to visit the area again, and retest all those Breton coast-inspired scents such as Miller Harris Fleurs de Sel and the Lostmarc'h range.  It also brought back happy memories of childhood bucket and spade holidays in other parts of The Celtic Fringe such as Cornwall and SW Ireland...

After our chat, Denyse was off to visit the Guerlain factory on one of their rare opening days, while I dived on the Metro and made my way to the apartment Undina (of Undina's Looking Glass) and her vSO had booked for their stay, which had been cut short by a day owing to the air traffic controllers' strike.  We had agreed that I would meet them there, to help out with any translation issues during the handover with their landlady.

A near-miss transaction with a possible impostor

Unfortunately, Undina and her vSO were held up in traffic on the way down from the airport in a taxi - I say unfortunately, not because I was in any hurry myself, but because it was clear that the landlady was keen to get the payment for the apartment and shoot off.  Reading between the lines and observing the elaborate care with which she made up her face right there in front of me, I think she had a hot date to go to, which could explain some of her agitation.  I figured that realistically The Undinas could be another half an hour or so, so I tried to stall the landlady by asking her to show me where everything was kept and how every last appliance worked in great detail - TV, washing machine, dishwasher, several coffee machines of varying degrees of sophistication.  'Be most particular about pre-piercing the little plastic container of coffee before insertion.'

Bears a passing resemblance to the designated piercing utensil for the coffee dose thingy 

We also discussed bin and cleaning routines and the fact that the enticing terrace was sadly not weight-bearing; we pored over maps of the local area, and the landlady indicated the best restaurants, the nearest pharmacy, bank and the best bus stops for the most scenic rides.  A good five minutes were killed leafing through the visitors' book together and reading past guest comments.  I volunteered to translate a few of the English ones to gain a bit more time.  Ever the market researcher, I quizzed the lady about the relative breakdown of her client base, the average numbers of guests per rental and seasonal patterns.  She told me about one single woman who came for a month at a time, and a party of five Italians for whom she rustled up an additional roll-out bed.  Then I told her about my hotel, and we discussed the prevailing room rates in that part of Paris versus the rental sector.

Source: Wikimedia Commons via Jebulon

Readers, I did my level best to stall this lady, but it looked like it wasn't going to be for long enough, for after about twenty minutes or so she abruptly interjected: 'Look, I really must be away by 2pm latest, and I need my money.  Have you got the money, or can you go to a cash point and give it me if they don't show up in time, and have them pay you back later?'  So I thought for a moment: 'Was I be prepared to hand over a substantial sum of money in cash to a lady I don't know on behalf of two friends I have never met?'  And the answer was: 'Of course I would!', but as things worked out, the Undinas' taxi drew up just in the nick of time, the lady got paid, scarpered, and all was well.

Well, we assumed all was well, though Undina's vSO sowed a seed of doubt after the landlady's departure.  'Hold on, didn't she tell you on the phone that she was about 60?  That woman was never 60!  She looked a lot younger.'  'Do you suppose she might have had work done?' I inquired helpfully.  Undina's vSO puzzled over this for a moment and replied, with a wry grin: 'I am still not convinced she is the right woman.  D'you realise we may just have gone and paid a big wedge of money to an impostor?'

Source: qype.fr

Lunch - tasty, if somewhat lost in translation

Ever the optimists, we dismissed this thought from our minds and Undina and her vSO set about freshening themselves up and Undina also did a spot of ironing, which in hindsight was another topic I could have used to delay the landlady's departure.  'Where is the ironing board kept?  Is it a steam iron?  Any special water you have to use with that?  Would you mind talking me through the settings?  Is there an instruction book with it perhaps?  And do you have a little tea cloth type-thing for delicate garments?'

Undina and her vSO were understandably hungry from their journey, so our first port of call was a bistro on the nearby square.  Here, on my advice, Undina's vSO ordered 'cassolette', which I had momentarily confused with 'cassoulet', a hearty stew featuring meat and haricot beans.  Undina's vSO quickly detected the complete absence of either, but got sportingly stuck into what turned out to be a mega-cheesy potato gratin dish.

One day, two closed perfume shops and three pairs of shoes

Fortified by our meal, the three of us spent the next few hours walking around the city, loosely following an itinerary I had devised earlier.  The first stop was L'Arc de Triomphe, cunningly chosen for its iconic tourist value and proximity to the Guerlain HQ at No 68, Champs Elysées.   Imagine our dismay to find that Guerlain happened to be closed that day, a Friday!  Perhaps all the staff had gone to the factory with Denyse?  Seems as plausible a theory as any, but what utter and undivided cheek!  Our disappointment was only slightly assuaged by the sight of a spectacular bee bottle hoarding just to the left of the main entrance.

Pictures of bottles are no substitute for the real thing

By the time we had legged it to the Place de la Concorde my feet were killing me, and I gladly succumbed to my second pair of shoes, carried with me for just such an emergency.  These flat leather pumps were a little tight to be honest, but they pinched in different places at least compared to the high heels they had replaced.  And in footwear as in life, a change is as good as a rest.

The joy of Jovoy

We strolled along the linden-lined  rue de Rivoli, talking about the lindens in Undina's native Ukraine, dived up to the Place de Vendôme and then back down to the niche mecca that is Jovoy in the rue de Castiglione, mindful that they shut at 7pm.  I guess we must have had about half an hour browsing in there - by a happy chance there was a selection of seating for non-perfumista spouses, but Undina's vSO ended up engaging in a bit of sampling himself, all-round good egg that he was.  Undina and I worked our way round most of the store in a systematic fashion, with my comrade-at-nose occasionally having to bring me to heel as my natural instinct was to drift off and start exploring things that caught my eye anywhere in the store, much like an overexcited magpie.

I can't tell you exactly what we sniffed but I did retain some favourite blotters, chief amongst which were Ramon Monegal's Ambra di Luna (the highlight of the whole trip, no less - review by The Non-Blonde here), along with two to which Undina drew my attention, namely Xerjoff Fatal Charme and Kind of Blue from their 'Join The Club' range.  There are no available notes for either of those, but they are powdery orientals at a guess?  Undina may be able to help us out here.  Then I do remember being pleasantly surprised by The Vagabond Prince's Enchanted Forest, despite my difficult relationship with blackcurrant.  Aedes de Venustas on the other hand proved to be too tart, despite my easy relationship with rhubarb.

At chucking out time, we mosied along the rue du Faubourg Saint-Honoré towards the Palais-Royal gardens.  Pausing outside the now shut Serge Lutens / Shisheido store (try saying that quickly after one too many Pernods!), we peered into the sepulchral and purplish gloom of its baroque interior.  I must say that the Undinas were jolly good sports about this steady procession of closed perfume stores I brought them to - well, two out of three so far.

So we hopped on a tube to St Paul, and I showed my companions the Marais district they nearly stayed in, including the elegant colonnades of the Place des Vosges.  We shared a bottle of wine at a pavement cafe by the statue of the Bastille (thanks, guys!), before heading back to our respective bases for the briefest of pitstops before dinner (and in my case, a change into pair of shoes No 3).

It was late by this time, but the restaurant I had lined up didn't bat an eyelid when I made a booking for 10.15pm.  We rolled out of there at about midnight, armed with a dessert doggy bag, which we shared over a cup of tea at the Undinas' apartment.  Finally, it was time to say our goodbyes, which speaking for myself was quite a wrench.  For despite only having known Undina and her vSO in person for about 12 hours give or take, I had already developed a fierce affection for the pair of them, and very much hope our paths will cross again.  I'll have the cash ready this time, just in case...;-)

And what of Rusty?  Well, apparently he had a live-in carer while his owners were away, as befits a puss with America's Top Feline Model status.  I imagine he might have enjoyed Paris too - there are a lot of sewer rats and any amount of cafes for practising his poses.

Check out Undina's account of her Paris stopover, including a cute shot of Rusty inspecting her holiday perfume bottle!

PS The results of the 'Bonkers at 3.6' prize draw will be coming up next!

Smelly Cakey Drinky Things On Toasty Meet: Lion Cupboard Love & The Fellowship Of Fumeheads

Angela Flanders store

The Smelly Cakey Drinky Meet - I added the bit about the Things on Toast - was the brainchild of "professional Moomin" and trainee perfumer Pia Long, known to many as Nukapai on Basenotes.   She thought it would be fun to recreate the Basenotes outings of yore, whereby a gaggle of perfumistas would go on a crawl of perfume emporia and high end tea rooms in central London, for as long as nose and stomach could stand the pace.

The chosen day for the meet-up dawned dry and preternaturally early.  My alarm roused me at my friend's house in Teddington at 7.30am.  I must say that 8am is a foreign country to me at the best of times, but there was nothing for it but to leap into action.  I arrived at the chosen rendez-vous point, Patisserie Valerie in Spitalfields, at bang on 10.30 am for a 10.30 - 11 am start.  I was delighted to spot Tara - in the dark coat whose precise colour was a memorable object of confusion on our first meeting - loitering outside, just slightly more unfashionably early than me.  Little did we know that three others had already preceded us and were installed at a large table indoors, while Pia herself stood sentry at a door round the other side to intercept stragglers.

People continued to dribble in over the next half an hour or so, but we got stuck into breakfast without ado.  My conventional-looking scone paled into insignificance beside Tara's humungous chocolate croissant, while Nick's millefeuille was so substantial that he had to abandon it somewhere around the "cinq cents" mark.

Tara, looking unfazed by her enormous croissant

Replete from our cafe stop, we ambled a few streets to our first perfume shop, Angela Flanders, a line with which I was unfamiliar.  Our party more or less filled the store, and we quickly descended on the testers and smelling strips.  A speed sniffing marathon ensued, as we attempted to winkle out our personal favourites, of which the friendly assistants made us samples to take home.

Nick and Pia at Angela Flanders

I sniffed ten scents on card and a further umpteen from the nozzle, which - although not a recognised sampling technique - pretty much does the job on the whole.  I am careful not to touch the nozzle with my nose, however, lest a Health & Safety-conscious SA should ask me to desist on hygiene grounds.

The strips I have retained were mostly drawn from three of the four ranges, the fourth (The Artillery Range) being more geared to men, as a cursory dabble confirmed:

Signature Fragrances: Bois de Seville, Melissa, Ottoman

Collection Florale: Mimosa, Bouquet d'Amour

Collection Noir (sic): Figue Noire, Oudh Noir

Sarah McCartney at Angela Flanders

I additionally tried Precious One on card - an elegant and understated floral chypre, which won a FiFi in 2012 in the Best New Independent Fragrance category - and Aqua Alba, which has not yet been assigned to a category by the looks of it.  It features an intriguing whisky note and was a popular choice with quite a few of us.  I requested samples of these two, plus Bois de Seville (a spicy woody, orange scent) and Oudh Noir (for an oud-loving friend).

One perfume which I sniffed and admired on Lisa (aka Wordbird) was Parchment, another Signature Fragrance with spices, citrus, vanilla and amber.  If my memory serves me, this is the one which Lisa initially thought smelt of fish, but the impression was happily fleeting, and Parchment quickly morphed into a yo-ho-ho-Long John Silver-type scent of the most evocative kind.

Somewhat creepy candles by Cire Trudon

Our next stop - again, within easy walking distance, even for someone as encumbered with luggage as me - was Bloom Perfume in Spitalfields, which carries an eclectic range of candles and fragrance, Parfumerie Générale and Nasomatto being two examples of relatively well known brands I spotted there.  Others included Jovoy Paris, Jardins d'Ecrivains, Phaedon Paris, Ann Gérard, Vero Profumo, Nez à Nez, Grossmith, Nasomatto, Blood Concept (which I had tested and rejected in Zurich), Magnetic Scent, Testa Maura, Undergreen and Six Scents.  I didn't clock several of these houses at the time, but have since looked them up on the store's website!

It was a squeeze in Bloom, and testing a bit of a genial bunfight.  Accordingly, I curtailed my explorations to the Jovoy range (where my sniffing was exclusively nozzle-based), Ann Gérard (I sprayed Perle de Mousse and Ciele d'Opale on strips), and Vero Profumo's Mito (which was awarded precious skin space on account of its iconic status on the blogs!).

Of the Jovoy range, I was drawn to a fig one - L'Arbre de Connaissance - and duly bought a sample.

Notes: citruses, green leaves, fig, sandalwood, patchouli, fig tree wood

The Ann Gérard trio piqued my interest, on account of Bertrand Duchaufour being the nose - I liked Perle de Mousse best (notes are listed below).  The third, Cuir de Nacre, was a leather scent not to my taste.

Notes: aldehydes, ambergris, bergamot, Bulgarian rose, cloves, galbanum, gardenia, green mandarin, hawthorn, ivy, jasmine, lily-of-the-valley, mastic, musk, pink pepper, vanilla

From L to R: Perle de Mousse, Ciel d'Opale, Cuir de Nacre

My first impressions of the hugely feted Mito were not favourable, as it opens with a really tart, almost sherbety and granular burst of citrus, very reminiscent of Guerlain Sous le Vent.  However, I continued to sniff my hand over the course of the day and into the evening, and - as with Puredistance Antonia, with which I struggled initially - the later stages repay one's patience.  The central phase was green and spikily springlike, owing to the galbanum, I imagine, with shades of Miller Harris Fleurs de Bois; the drydown, meanwhile, had a more luminous green facet blended with the sweeter florals, as the magnolia and jasmine kicked in.  I love magnolia as a note, and it lent a tender quality to the final stages of the scent's development, in stark contrast to the acerbic opening.  I think I may have to buy a sample by mail order at this rate.

Notes: bergamot, magnolia, jasmine, galbanum, hyacinth, cypress and moss

After Bloom, we took a bus to Piccadilly and were strolling along Jermyn Street when we spied a branch of Geo F Trumper.  A shade too early for our tea at Fortnum & Mason's, we happily killed the requisite time in this store, a temple to gentlemen's grooming, though its perfume range is aimed at both sexes.  I was especially drawn to the ample selection of dainty nail brushes and shaving soaps in wooden boxes - the sandalwood one in particular.  But that belongs more properly to another post...

3pm saw us settled at our table in the upstairs - and as Pia was at pains to point out, comparatively less expensive! - tea room in Fortnum's.  Tea was £6 a pot, but what a pot!  Scones were £6 the pair, but came with a perfectly spherical "boule" of clotted cream.  I opted for one slice of Welsh Rarebit (at £9.50 each, there was no way I could run to two), but as it turned out, one was perfectly filling, deliciously savoury and fluffy, and topped with two rashers of good back bacon.  

The nonpareil of Welsh Rarebits

The other important aspect of the day to mention was the systematic sampling we undertook - at Patisserie Valerie, on the bus, and at any point in our wanderings where it was practical, basically - of British perfumer Sarah McCartney's range, 4160 Tuesdays.  Sarah joined us for the whole day - in person she was delightfully down to earth, quirky and flamboyant, and these qualities are reflected in her offbeat and unusual scents.  She generously offered us each a large sample of our choice, and after wavering between What Katie Did At The Weekend - a "fruity floral with a twist" - and "The Lion Cupboard", I was swayed in the end by the woody mystique of the latter.  The Lion Cupboard was created by Sarah for her sister, and takes its name from an ornate Victorian cabinet decorated with lion's heads, in which their late father used to store his hats, gloves and scarves.  This comforting fragrance comprises a mix of notes Sarah associated with her father's hug.  

Here is the description on the Les Senteurs website, which stocks several of the scents in the range: 

"A medley of masculine scents including juniper (think well-iced gin and tonic), mint and aniseed (tooth powder) meld with lavender, patchouli and golden helichrysum. Dark, deep, woody and reassuring. Spicy, warm and resolutely masculine."

NB Any knitters out there may also be interested to learn about Sarah's 5 Degree Woolly eco-knitting movement!

As well as sampling Sarah's fragrance range, we smelt one of Pia's creations on blotters - an aldehydic peach scent.  There was also a fair amount of informal swapping of our unwanted niche stash, while Lisa delighted the group by handing out packets of Welsh cakes to anyone keen to try them.

Special mention should be made of the "Ladies' Powder Room", with its gilded baroque mirrors and supplies of individual hand towels.  No broken hand dryers or futile shreds of paper towel for such an august establishment.

Sadly, I had to cut and run at that point, as I had a particular train to catch home, but the others repaired to the perfume department of Fortnum's for a final sniffing foray.

And then, in what seemed like no time at all, I was home, blissed out on scents and good company.  The Lion, The Cupboard And The Welsh Rarebit from Central Casting.  The fellowship of fumeheads is indeed a wonderful thing, and many thanks are due to Pia for her hard work in organising this most enjoyable and memorable day.

Tara, Lisa and Sarah at Patisserie Valerie